So I’m back, listening to Sufjan Stevens and watching ASCII Starwars (telnet towel.blinkenlights.nl). Or being blasted by the syrupy cacophony of My Bloody Valentine. Needless to say, nine hundred thirty one megabytes of new music (courtesy of Pirate Extraordinaire Apu) makes this week in return new and fun.
Speaking of Star wars, here’s a brilliant writeup on the six films, in the high-brow terms of film criticism. It’s doubtful Lucas’s alleged genius was intentional, a more probable explanation (as iterated in said article) is the meritable mythos evolved in complex triangular relationship between fan dollars, special effects produced with said dollars, and some kitschy reinterpretation of Campbell’s mythology thesis. Lucas was a mere catalyst, no more brilliant than a lactase molecule.
And yes, my vitriol is lagerspired. New word, fifty points. It’s not a dubious hypothesis to purport the expiration date resides somewhere in the past. Who knows how long they leave the 40s on the Kwiki Mart shelves? Freshness is not their motto! This makes the 5.5% an estimate on the low side. My connoisseur tastebuds certainly verify the notion.
But I’m celebrating. I finished Chapter Four. It’s a few days late, but cut me a break, I was out of town, on vacation. There was much to see, much to eat and drink. It was a rousing good time, but I’m bloody back and ramming myself into the gears of routine. There’s meaning behind that madness, and the rationale reveals itself when I get good stuff done.