1. At long last, I have resurrected Cinecism. New layout, and as of now, new posts as well. I am very proud of my new theory.
2. Don't you hate cliche one-word reviews? They're the modern equivalent of Homeric epithets: Athena of the flashing eyes, wily Odysseus, pious Aeneas, thoughtful Telemachus. There's never been an L.A. Confidential review that hasn't referred to it as "labyrinthine", to the extent that I now do it all the time in conscious parody. People writing about Horace append "detatched" and "wry", while Propertius and Ovid share "ironic". I'm also rather sick of people referring to the final episode of Blake's 7 as "climactic" - not only is it overused, it's also damned obvious. "Climactic" being, like a climax. Frankly, I'd be shocked if it wasn't climactic, it being the climax and and all...TITANS WILL CLASH.
The point is, words like this become meaningless through overuse. If you always refer to Aeneas as "pius Aeneas" then his name effectively becomes Pius Aeneas, and you adopt the epithet as part of a whole - like when referring to Sherlock as "Holmes", you don't forget his first name is Sherlock. Either stop pointing out obvious things, or find an interesting way to do them.
3. Did I just have vegitarianism!fail? I found a great local coffee bar that does dirt-cheap porridge with fruit, and have eagerly planned to eat there every day for the rest of my life. But while chomping, it occured to me: doesn't porridge include whey powder, or ground-up pigs teeth, or rabbit intestine or something? It certainly looks like it might, with its zombie-flesh glumpiness.
4. Nutjob movie of the week: Poltergay.
6. Today I noticed that Fifi the rat has a question mark on her back. I'm thinking of taking a photo for Fortean Times - they've a section for people who've found Richard Nixon on toast and the rest.
7. Keyboard! Keyboard! Spirita has at long last brought her keyboard down for the house. I found a chest of drawers in the garage to prop it on, and behind it I've wedged the ironing board (which no one has ever used; Spirita assures me that, in an emergency, she is skilled at ironing on the bed!), for my laptop and sheet music. Voila! Music station. A moment of panic came when I plugged in my sustain pedal which I'd brought from home. When you press down on the pedal, the notes continue to play even if you take your fingers off the keys and play with sockpuppets, until you take your foot off the pedal. Or it's supposed to - what I found was it had reversed, and I had to do the opposite foot movements. Luckily, it's back to normal now.
Tis a fine, fine keyboard - it has a pitch bend; basically, a big prog-lever which makes notes go woooooeeer up and down in pitch, for instant 80s cred. Enough notes for me to play Firth of Fifth without cramping; big enough that I can play most of the Chopin without too much trouble. Of course, a keyboard is very different to a piano but I'll get used to it. Me and Calypso have been singing, and it's marvellous fun. We do a very good Broadway Hotel (Al Stewart), and also Where the Wild Roses Grow (Nick Cave).
In between, I'm trying to explain how to play - a nightmare, as my grasp of musical theory is dead shakey. How do you explain a key to someone anyway? I know how to watch television, how to make television and at a push know how to plug one in and identify a SCART cable - that doesn't mean I could build one from scratch, if you get my analogy, nor do I understand how or why it works.
8. I spent a marvellous afternoon with Rosencrantz, which resulted in a curious bet. I have given her my name and my oldest username - she gave me her name and an old email address. Our task: to make a "secret dossier" with everything we can discover on the web. She's at a natural advantage twice over - she's rather more experienced, and of course, she's always been extra-cagey about the sort of information on her on the internet. I kept bumping into dead ends, but have managed to turn the one email address into two old usernames, and a second email address - about six hours work. Part of the deal was that neither of us could do anything illegal, but I bet that two emails go a long way with nefarious means. I also have her GSCE results, her poetry, her fanfiction, everything I need to know about her reading habits and music taste, photos of her house, as well as a bit of information which could probably see her jailed. Definitely enough for blackmail, flirting or conning. Horrifies me what stuff of mine is still out there. As soon as she returns with my dossier, I am going to go and do a serious damn web-purge.
9. Fanmixes. Inherently nuts, and work because the human brain is so associative not because they make sense. I am increasingly convinced that all of Queen's "A Kind of Magic" fits Blake's 7 -admittedly, often in an ironic way - but that is almost certainly because I'm a case (having said that, I have nevertheless looked up the dates, and yes they do fit...) I'm usually too lazy to see them through, so I've got lots of odd songs lying around which would suit a mix, if only I could find another eight songs or so. I've even got a Spotify playlists for ones on their own. Which is great, but I've started forgetting what some of them are. In particular:
a-ha – Take On Me and Frank Sinatra – Good-Bye
Any ideas? Do they remind you of anything? Because goodness knows, they don't me!!
10. Removing myself from the internet is harder than I thought. Remember my distress over the Geocities information vanishing? I've become that person. Even with it backed up, it's still horrible to see it go.
2. Don't you hate cliche one-word reviews? They're the modern equivalent of Homeric epithets: Athena of the flashing eyes, wily Odysseus, pious Aeneas, thoughtful Telemachus. There's never been an L.A. Confidential review that hasn't referred to it as "labyrinthine", to the extent that I now do it all the time in conscious parody. People writing about Horace append "detatched" and "wry", while Propertius and Ovid share "ironic". I'm also rather sick of people referring to the final episode of Blake's 7 as "climactic" - not only is it overused, it's also damned obvious. "Climactic" being, like a climax. Frankly, I'd be shocked if it wasn't climactic, it being the climax and and all...TITANS WILL CLASH.
The point is, words like this become meaningless through overuse. If you always refer to Aeneas as "pius Aeneas" then his name effectively becomes Pius Aeneas, and you adopt the epithet as part of a whole - like when referring to Sherlock as "Holmes", you don't forget his first name is Sherlock. Either stop pointing out obvious things, or find an interesting way to do them.
3. Did I just have vegitarianism!fail? I found a great local coffee bar that does dirt-cheap porridge with fruit, and have eagerly planned to eat there every day for the rest of my life. But while chomping, it occured to me: doesn't porridge include whey powder, or ground-up pigs teeth, or rabbit intestine or something? It certainly looks like it might, with its zombie-flesh glumpiness.
4. Nutjob movie of the week: Poltergay.
5. Interesting combo of the week: Act One, a filmmaker college who "train writers of faith for careers in mainstream film and television. Act One equips writers with the professional and spiritual tools necessary to live a life of faith in Hollywood and sustain a career." I shouldn't scoff, as I study Classics and Film - at least Hollywood and Christianity have coexisted in the same century - and it makes sense too, but I feel it's still worth linking to.
"Emma and Marc move into a house which has been uninhabited for thirty years. What they don't know is that in 1979, in a cave under the house, there was a gay disco , which burned down.. Today, the house is haunted by five gay ghosts."
6. Today I noticed that Fifi the rat has a question mark on her back. I'm thinking of taking a photo for Fortean Times - they've a section for people who've found Richard Nixon on toast and the rest.
7. Keyboard! Keyboard! Spirita has at long last brought her keyboard down for the house. I found a chest of drawers in the garage to prop it on, and behind it I've wedged the ironing board (which no one has ever used; Spirita assures me that, in an emergency, she is skilled at ironing on the bed!), for my laptop and sheet music. Voila! Music station. A moment of panic came when I plugged in my sustain pedal which I'd brought from home. When you press down on the pedal, the notes continue to play even if you take your fingers off the keys and play with sockpuppets, until you take your foot off the pedal. Or it's supposed to - what I found was it had reversed, and I had to do the opposite foot movements. Luckily, it's back to normal now.
Tis a fine, fine keyboard - it has a pitch bend; basically, a big prog-lever which makes notes go woooooeeer up and down in pitch, for instant 80s cred. Enough notes for me to play Firth of Fifth without cramping; big enough that I can play most of the Chopin without too much trouble. Of course, a keyboard is very different to a piano but I'll get used to it. Me and Calypso have been singing, and it's marvellous fun. We do a very good Broadway Hotel (Al Stewart), and also Where the Wild Roses Grow (Nick Cave).
In between, I'm trying to explain how to play - a nightmare, as my grasp of musical theory is dead shakey. How do you explain a key to someone anyway? I know how to watch television, how to make television and at a push know how to plug one in and identify a SCART cable - that doesn't mean I could build one from scratch, if you get my analogy, nor do I understand how or why it works.
8. I spent a marvellous afternoon with Rosencrantz, which resulted in a curious bet. I have given her my name and my oldest username - she gave me her name and an old email address. Our task: to make a "secret dossier" with everything we can discover on the web. She's at a natural advantage twice over - she's rather more experienced, and of course, she's always been extra-cagey about the sort of information on her on the internet. I kept bumping into dead ends, but have managed to turn the one email address into two old usernames, and a second email address - about six hours work. Part of the deal was that neither of us could do anything illegal, but I bet that two emails go a long way with nefarious means. I also have her GSCE results, her poetry, her fanfiction, everything I need to know about her reading habits and music taste, photos of her house, as well as a bit of information which could probably see her jailed. Definitely enough for blackmail, flirting or conning. Horrifies me what stuff of mine is still out there. As soon as she returns with my dossier, I am going to go and do a serious damn web-purge.
9. Fanmixes. Inherently nuts, and work because the human brain is so associative not because they make sense. I am increasingly convinced that all of Queen's "A Kind of Magic" fits Blake's 7 -admittedly, often in an ironic way - but that is almost certainly because I'm a case (having said that, I have nevertheless looked up the dates, and yes they do fit...) I'm usually too lazy to see them through, so I've got lots of odd songs lying around which would suit a mix, if only I could find another eight songs or so. I've even got a Spotify playlists for ones on their own. Which is great, but I've started forgetting what some of them are. In particular:
a-ha – Take On Me and Frank Sinatra – Good-Bye
Any ideas? Do they remind you of anything? Because goodness knows, they don't me!!
10. Removing myself from the internet is harder than I thought. Remember my distress over the Geocities information vanishing? I've become that person. Even with it backed up, it's still horrible to see it go.
