Mar. 21st, 2008

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Yay for finally getting out dancing again. Also, yay for Meat having a pretty steady crowd for lo' these many years so I didn't have to go through one of those unfortunate existential crises I get when I return to the club scene after a hiatus and it seems like the entirety of the people I recognize have stopped going out and been replaced by freshly minted 18 year old gothlings. This has happened something like five times, and I don't approve of it.

I had an optometrists appointment today. This was something like 14 years in the making. The end result is pretty much what I expected. My left eye is screwed, and my brain more or less just edits it out. Unsurprising considering that's the eye that went all crossy when I was young. He sort of half-heartedly asked if I'd want to wear a single contact lens for that eye, but I wasn't having it. I was tempted to ask if I could have a monocle, but decided against it, so instead I'm getting reading/computer glasses to help some with the strain of my right eye doing pretty much all of the distance work. They should arrive next week, at which point the law of archetypes will finally allow me to petition to be officially intelligent. Whew!

Also, having numb eyeballs feels very strange.

Here is an assortment of things that are awesome.
  • This game..
  • The word pessimal. For some reason it had never occurred to me despite being so obvious. optimism:pessimism::optimal:? and all that. Unfortunately I will probably almost never use it, because I tend to use optimal ironically by saying that things are suboptimal, and there's just not a good equivalent for pessimal. Superpessimal? Just doesn't work. And don't suggest that I use it without irony, because that's crazy talk
  • After tomorrow, I won't have to think about javascript for at least 48 hours

I saw Doomsday on Tuesday with a bunch of people. If you know anything about my taste in movies (and you probably do if you pay any attention to this), that might give you cause to wonder. This was mainly by way of Simon taking revenge for all of the spectacularly uplifting indie/foreign movies I drag him to (4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days is not exactly the feel good movie of the year). I can't actually decide what I thought about it. It was unquestioningly horrible. On at least one occasion, I caught myself staring at the back of Simon's head wondering if anyone would actually convict me if I murdered him by repeatedly braining him with the bag of snooty criterion collection DVDs I happened to have with me. At other points I actually just stopped looking at the screen at all and began to count the little light stars on the ceiling of the theater. But, along with all of the bad (and I could write so very, very, very much about the bad), you sort of have to appreciate it in the way that you appreciate it when small children ramble on excitedly about their fantasy worlds ("And then there were ninjas, but they couldn't kill the dinosaurs with their swords, so they got lasers from the robots, who came from the future!!"). It's just such a horrible mashup. It's like the writer took every random thing he liked and decided to make a movie involving them. "Ok, cyborgs, post apocalyptic primitives, knights, plague zombies, and car chases. I can work with this". I've decided that this is clearly an easy way to fame and fortune, so I'm going to write a script using the same methodology with things I like. Here's my initial treatment:

In the dark future, the scattered remnants of humanity roam the wastes on the backs of giant, city sized super-megatheria. When a mysterious cybernetic plague begins to devastate the sloth-cities (Did I mention that the sloths are cybernetic? Because they *totally* are!), one brave heroine must venture into the wastes (Yes, yes, I know I said that they were already in the wastes, but these are far wastier wastes I'm talking about now. Try to keep up) to bring back the cure. With a ragtag collection of mercenaries you completely fail to care about in the least (which is for the best considering they exist solely to raise the body count), she becomes embroiled in a war between the super-intelligent clockwork polar bears and their arch nemeses, the ur-hedgehogs, masters of cryptozoology. Also, there is an exciting chase on dragonback. Just because!!! The movie culminates in a final battle where the ultimate creation of the clock-bears, a gigantic steam driven replica of Philip K. Dick mounted on the back of a transforming robotic battle-panda (For reasons never explained, it transforms into a complete set of the works of Jonathan Lethem and a slightly battered first edition copy of Italo Calvino's "If On A Winter's Night, A Traveler") fires its doomsday weapon, the gnostic cannon, tearing gaping rifts in reality, through which emerge the entirety of the greek, norse and egyptian pantheons, and a gigantic tentacle of presumably cthulhoid origin. Then there's a dance number. And then the credits roll, leaving room for a sequel.

Man, I'm going to be so freaking rich.


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