The Long Dance Good-night

the better to bore you with, my dear


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I'm dreaming of a white desert
uberbutters
starplucker
Soderbergh's Solaris while doing my laundry tonight, which I thoroughly enjoyed regardless of it being a protracted episode of any number of Star Trek iterations. Good science fiction can accomplish a number of things, not the least of which being a way to ask existential questions not as easily framed in our current reality. But you knew that already.

I've been working, and coming home from work, and playing instruments and watching things and reading and spending way too long each night trying to get to sleep. Snow to the point of inhibiting activity is bad enough, but it's coming at the worst time of year for me. The time when my general distaste for winter blossoms into a petulant, impatient loathing. Everything is buried under a whitewash and it's getting difficult to remember what it's like to drive barefoot and sleep with a window open. Just fucking be over already.

But there's a light, as there always is. Over the past week or two I've been watching as potential activity slowly begins to fill my spring and early summer, with little of my own prompting or control. If it's to the point that it exceeds what I can hold in my random access memory and I have to start keeping a calendar to avoid double-booking, that counts as notable. In the short term there's Bella Morte things happening these next two weekends: The Southern on Saturday, and then we're leaving for Con Nooga late next Thursday. And more other-things after that, which I'll undoubtedly bring up as they get closer.

For now it's a matter of keeping my sanity until there is green and sun and sweat again. I wonder if this room just needs a plant.

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I prefer Tarkovsky's Solaris, have you seen that one? I might have it on VHS--I can dig around. You might find it interminably long and very slow paced. I probably have a copy of Lem's book.

What's funny, in and actually quite embarrassing: that's the one I accidentally got Netflix to send me at first, and when it showed up last week I just couldn't bring myself to commit to the extra hour. That and I was simultaneously doing some netbooky-things and couldn't be bothered with subtitles at the time...

Lord, now I'm making excuses. Time to go queue it up again before I lose any more face.

Hey, it's long and subtle and many would probably find it boring. No shame there. The score (Edward Artemiev) is phenomenal if you like minimalist early experimental electronic ambient stuff, though. And since you don't speak Russian (do you?), you'd have to actually pay attention to the subtitles. It might not be up your alley.

We have the score/soundtrack on CD. Happy to loan it.

That's the thing, it totally is up my alley (I like good movies! I swearses!) and subtitles normally don't bother me at all. Just wasn't what I expected when I popped it in that day and I hadn't really prepped myself for that long haul.

I found Soderbergh's to have its subtleties as well, just in a more modern short-attention-span style. But the story as told in this movie really did have me wondering if I hadn't seen this happen to Riker at some point.

Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes has to be one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard.


P.S: Snow fucking sucks.

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