A Journey Begun Anew
26 April 1999
9:41 PM: Hey.
Damn, brain says duh, tired now. Writing for any length of time always leaves me in a fog. Especially 'how-to' documentation, which is what I've been doing for the Evil Project here at work. I'm not sure my style is the most effective: "This code means exactly what anyone with half a brain would think it meant."
Saw Go this weekend. A very pleasant surprise. I fully expected it to be passable at best and Farrelyish at worst. Not a bit of it - it's completely enjoyable. Tarentinoish, yes, but not slavishly. And bits of it were very well written, I thought, particularly the whole drug deal scene. Information is conveyed without giant neon fingers pointing at it, so you can share the same realization that slowly dawns on the character. Nicely done.
I also thought this was one of the more effective uses of techno music by a film. Actually, now that I think about it, what others? Oh, right, Trainspotting. I was pontificating about this after we saw the film, that most movies that have techno in the soundtracks are just using it in a very blunt, unknowing fashion, the same way they would with rap or indie music. "Whatever, the kids like it, it'll sell soundtracks." Has nothing to do with the film itself - often, because the film barely has anything to do with itself. Contentless vacuum loops.
Speaking of which, we saw this procession of horror before the movie. An Adam Sandler movie, a wannabe Adam Sandler film if you can imagine that kind of patheticness, an idiotic horror movie, and maybe 1 or 10 more, they all blended together. So stupid I'm not even gonna make links for them, they don't deserve that much attention. I guess we saw all of these because the studios or the theater figured that Go would be attracting the "young crowd."
And here's what they think of you, Young Crowd: they think you are moronic to the point that dogs are embarrassed to be seen with you, they think you're simultaneously obsessed with sex and completely uninformed about it (let alone actually fucking, god forbid), they think you can be made to laugh like a lab rat junkie, and I guess they think you're all guys. Flattering, isn't it?
Now another week beckons with far too much thinking to be done, pennies are not adding up, aging continues to accelerate, and oh just all that crap. Sinking feeling that the Big Party for my 409th birthday is going to be a fiasco. Heh! Typo, that should be '40th'. Oh well, I guess if there's beer, how bad can it be?
Ha. Like I don't know the answer to that question.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff.
The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.