Wuthering, indeed!

The Castro Theater is showing Wuthering Heights (1939). The theater does employ an organist who plays before each show; I wonder if he could be convinced to accompany me if I were to provide an impromptu terpischorean prelude. My Associate and I can't decide if I should wear red or white. I'd better see about renting a fog machine / obtaining enough windowpane for the whole audience. ("Let me in to your window. . .")

This entry contains the word 'tits'

Once upon a time, My Associate and I were discussing the relative merits of various Sci-Fi television shows, specifically with regards to the rigorousness of their science fiction technobabble.
[We are a Stargate SG-1/Atlantis/Universe household.]
And I observed that SG-1 has much 'harder' science than, say, Star Trek.
But then I realized that 'hard' was too strong a statement and tried to amend it to 'firm.'
But then that kind of sounded like description of tofu (hard, firm, soft).
My Associate observed that it also could be taken to describe breasts.

Which led us to the (possibly infelicitous description of the) floppy science tits of Star Trek and the perky, sun-chasing science tits of Stargate SG-1.

When I posted about this on another forum, a few friends added:

- the Buffalo Bill tit-vest of Andromeda.
- leather cat suit tits of Farscape.

To which I'd now like to add:
- the jiggly hand-cam amateur porno tits of Battlestar Galactica

Tea, Hold the Sympathy

[...] About sympathy for example -- we can do without it. That illusion of a world so shaped that it echoes every groan, of human beings so tied together by common needs and fears that a twitch at one wrist jerks another, where however strange your experience other people have had it too, where however far you travel in your own mind someone has been there before you -- is all an illusion. We do not know our own souls, let alone the souls of others. Human beings do not go hand in hand the whole stretch of the way. There is a virgin forest in each; a snowfield where even the print of brids' feet is unknown.

Virginia Wolf, "On Being Ill", Selected Essays

These Dreams

2 nights ago:
Dreamed I was in a war zone somewhere in SE Asia; probably Vietnam and it had the feel of a LARP but with live weapons (and I swear I haven't watched the trailer for 'Gamer' more than once). I turned my compatriots over to the enemy in exchange for something.

last night:
had a long involved dream that started on a beach in Hawaii where my mother was getting married (to whom? no idea). The service was officiated by a co-worker but was repeatedly interrupted by a crazy homeless beach bum who I eventually confronted. Then I and My Associate were playing another video game that reminded me a lot of Fallout 3. We helped a derelict robot repair itself for which it was grateful, even though we were unable to get its incomplete companion working

It was a hamcan?

I received this postcard from a good friend long ago, I think I was living out in Northampton MA at the time. A woman holding a sewing notion box made from nothing other than a ham can. How clever! [click thumbnails for larger image]

I still have the original (somehwere. . .) but quickly scanned it in to share with others. I remember composing an exegesis about it: Is she receiving the ham can sewing box as a gift from friends (and saying thank you).... or, rather, did she make it herself and is showing it to her gal pals and they're telling her how clever she is to which she responds with a demure:



Anyway, it entered the lexicon (as these things do). One summer, after I'd just finished reading the entire Dune series (the original, thank you) resulted in:

Wire in the Tru (Blood) Calling from the Dollhouse (and Welcome to It)

Dream started out in an institutional building that resembled my elementary schools back home; some kind of science fair / LARP (again? really?) / art show was going on including one station where we dressed in bluescreen-material body suits and did interpretive dance while films were projected over us. And then the morris dancing (natch).

Cut to: I'm driving with someone to dispose of a body (watching too much Wire I guess) off of a bridge, but when we get there it's really a seaport. We get lost in the rabitty warrens of tunnels trying to find a pier to dump the body off. My partner* in crime (who's by this point confessed to me that he's high as a kite) decides we'll use this one -- but they're about to offload a boat full of goats. He manages to dupe the dockworkers into letting us in, we stow the body and he lets the truck roll away as a distraction. I book, run into a security guard who helps me (why? read on...) escape by showing me a trapdoor that leads to a tiny crawlspace where we recover syringes and a blood testing kit. Security Guard is revealed to be some kind of evil vampire who has Nefarious Designs. I book (again? really?) and run out the front door of my Grandmother's house into the street.

Fortunately at this point the alarm went off and I woke up.

*note: partner was not My Associate

Hearts XOR Diamonds

I was mad for this film [The Fan (1981)]. And, as many of those commenting on the clip said, this song from the musical Sally Ross (LB's character) was starring in stuck with me for years. Imagine my delight at finding this clip so readily. If only this film would get a bold new imagining on the Broadway Stage followed by the inevitable re-re-imagining of the play as a film. (Circle of life...)

I Am SciFi -- no.... wait....

My Associate informs me the The SciFi Channel has completed their name change to Syfy. My response (after "WTF?") was: "...WTF?" According to the network "It's a brand that catches up with our programming." Mmkay. We figure this probably refers to the fact that rather than crappy yet expensive-to-produce though nominally science fiction 'original movies' ("Mansquito?" Really?) they can now do more equally crappy but much less expensive "reality programming" -- ("Ghost Hunters?" Oh no thank you, I simply couldn't). Next: "WWF:
Intergalactic Smackdown." See also the History Channel who's been dining out on 2012 nonsense for the past little while. Maybe they can change their name to "The Alternate History Channel".

Associate Mine further notes that this sort of naming thing is necessary so they have something trademark-able ("SciFi" on its own likely would not be, although "SciFi Channel" presumably was) and that this also clears the way for other ventures like "Syfy for Kids" and "Syfy for Pets". As to that last one, I should note that My Associate has scary lathe-of-heaven powers and often what he says in jest tends to come true (usually the more outlandish, the more likely). So, set phasers on 'Purr' I guess.

What Dreams May Come... or Whatever

I dreamed I attended a production of a Shakespeare play (I'm not sure which one) staged in a men's locker room shower. Used an elaborate system of mirrors, lighting and strategic steam to simulate nudity. I know this because the production included a behind-the-scenes talk after the play. I'm not sure why they didn't just stage the play with Actual Nudity, [or what, if anything, the significance is that I censored my dream that way]. My Waking Mind tells me this was probably the product of having heard a segment on Fresh Air yesterday where Lloyd Schwartz reviewed the DVD release of "Playing Shakespeare." Further, dream took place in a high-rise building that is a frequent recurring dream locale. I think Bill Mumy was in the cast (of my dream), along with Brian Cox.

He who controls the Spice controls SFMUNI

It was pointed out to me that the San Francisco Municipal Railway's logo looks pretty dated, like circa 1973 (which it may in fact be, I don't know):


( Huh. Sure enough...)
I actually kind of like it, retro chic or whatever and said as much: "I like the worm logo." My Associate asked if I was referring to the MUNI management as worms which led to:

"Yes, the giant Sandworms that run MUNI. If only they'd hire Guild Navigators maybe the trains would run on time."

"Yeah, after all they'd just fold space and you'd be there."

And as I'm writing this I remember a previous conversation about how there are no fewer than six independent non-inter-operating transit agencies in the Bay Area, and maybe someday there'll be a Kwisatz Transitaderach to come and unite them all.

But with our luck the Tleilaxu would take over running it and we'd be even more f'ed than we are now.

Have to Believe We Are Magic(k)

I dreamed I was head of a group of Mages being besieged by a rival group. I met the two leaders of the other group at the door for a Frank Exchange of Bon Mots.

"Michael, you're a dilettante, a poseur and a bully. You're only interested in a quick buck, an easy lay and a good meal. Not that there's anything wrong with any of those, it's just not what Magick is for."

Clearly too much LARPing in the past. Or too much "Supernatural". Or maybe I'm just excited that we've got "Into the Labrynth" waiting for us when we finish watching "Supernatural." I will not be denied the Nidus any longer.