A few nights ago I was up late, oh about 1 AM or so, and I went into the bathroom. Now, the bathroom has a window facing out the front of our apartment, looking out on a tall tree and, to its right, a concrete brick enclosure housing two trash dumpsters. Wonderful view, I know. While in the bathroom brushing my teeth, I heard some footsteps and a rustling sound coming from outside the window. I figured it was some late-night reveler returning home after a night out on the town, or some such thing. I thought nothing of it, and put it out of mind.

The rustling and steps came again, more concerted and determined this time. I narrowed my eyes and looked out the window. I could not see much of anything, as it was very dark outside and quite bright in the bathroom. I turned off the bathroom light and peered out. I saw nothing; yet the sounds continued. Adding to the rustling was now a distinctively animal sound - a trilling kind of speech. It lilted up and down, filling the courtyard with the sounds of the rainforest.

Aha, I thought, it must be raccoons or opossums, or some other local wildlife that comes out at night and tries to get into the foul-smelling trash. The noise continued, and I began to get annoyed. Ah yes: annoyance - the plum of my misery. It demands my immediate attention; I must follow it through without any regard for outcome. Caught in its throes, I grabbed my heavy black aluminum Mag Lite flashlight, a device which provided me with both light and weaponry, and decided to venture out to deal with the noisemakers.

The dumpster area seemed empty when I approached. I shone the flashlight around the brick square and found nothing. Crouching downwards and looking under the dumpster, I swept the darkness with the flashlight, and found myself face to face with a furry heathen of questionable intentions. It stopped its deviant machinations and looked up at me as I directed the beam of light at it. The animal's lanky paws, which it was twiddling nervously like a villain in a top hat, ended in sharp and very mean looking claws.

At this moment in time, my motions began to slow down, and I knew what to do. I had to defend my mate and my hive. I stood up, closed my eyes, and began to perform...the Dance.  The Dance is a preternatural rhythmic beating and stomping of the feet and flailing about of the arms designed to startle and frighten away small children and animals. It has more success with the animals than the small children, though. I once attempted it on a child who was sitting outside on the sidewalk with a hatchet, striking the hatchet repeatedly on a section of steel pipe, making a most annoying loud clangy sound. It merely looked up me in a surprised manner and continued its hammering away. Never mind how a child got hold of a hatchet, but that is for another story. This raccoon responded to the Dance by immediately scampering out from beneath the dumpster and running into the bushes.

I was not content with this minor victory, though. Directing the flashlight into the underbrush, I saw the two bright beady reflections of its eyes looking out at me. I was not fooled this night - this animal most certainly had every intention of returning to the scene of the crime as soon as I left it alone. This in mind, I approached the bush in which it was hiding and stomped my feet again, this time adding to my dance the exclamation of "Get!" punctuated with each foot stomp. Above me, a light switched on in a window. Clearly my crusade was disturbing the evening peace. I stomped and "Get!"-ted one more time and finally caused the furry creature to dash out from leafy hiding place and tear away across the grass. Satisfied in my triumph, I walked back to my apartment.

While passing beneath the tree, I once more heard that animal trilling noise. A quick inspection of my surroundings revealed no sign of any wildlife. Then the trill, again. Hmm. Clearly I was being mocked. I went to my front door and turned around. The tree. Raccoons. In the tree. The one I was just standing under. I slowly craned my neck upwards to the night sky and saw them. One. Two. Three? Four? Five! Five raccoons were perched among the branches of this tree, trilling in unison, with their bright beady reflective eyes trained on me. It was like Planet of the Apes, only I was a man, and the raccoons the apes, and the tree, the Statue of Liberty, or something.

It is amazing how quickly the weather changes here, a scant quarter mile or so from the Pacific Ocean. I left to run a few errands yesterday, and returned home about an hour later only to find a huge, seething cloud hovering over Isla Vista when I exited the freeway at the top of the hill. My first thought was - fire! my apartment! until I rolled my car window down and peered out catiously, nose first, seeking out the harsh aroma of burning, destructive smoke, but finding only a delicate mist. The lingering smoky behemoth was nothing more than a super-fast marine layer that clearly took my jaunt into town as an opportunity to form and loom over my home, acting as a beacon of sorts for my return.

Netflix delivered Kingdom of Heaven yesterday, and we watched it last night. I had wanted to see it when it came out last year, but it somehow slipped out of the theaters before I had to opportunity to catch it. What a film. It is a beautiful, incredible, epic film. One of the best films I have seen in the last five years. There is a director's cut that came out not too long ago also. Neither Netflix nor Greencine had it available for rent, so I settled for the theatrical version, which was impressive in its own right, but from what I have read on the internets, the director's cut is even better.

I also found that the film fared very poorly in North America, but substantially better in Europe and the Middle East, with its best showing in, of all places, Egypt. It's not a film about adventure or love or anything like that at its core, but rather a study of a clash of religions in one of the most violent times in history. I think I'm going to purchase the extended DVD, which is a rare decision considering the paucity of available cash in my life right now.