thursday : 29 nov 2007

It's 10:06pm already, and there is a shitload to get through before the curtain falls at 11:00pm, my new self-imposed bedtime curfew. So far this week I've reached that goal precisely one times (hint: and on the 7th day He rested). Plan B is to cover all of the topics in successive posts, rather than rushing this one. The more I write, the longer it takes to: proofread, correct, improve, repeat cycle. This also jacks up my adrenaline, making sleep difficult. So...let's write a relaxed entry before turning in. All that's missing is the ticking of a grandfather clock, an old pipe, and Chippy the golden retriever spread out in front of the fireplace. Or maybe an enormous tabby cat. Very Authur Conan Doyle or H.G. Wells, one imagines.

Part of the reason for violating curfew is the science fiction novel I'm reading, Revelation Space. This was lent to me by the bibliographically well-nourished Code Monkey. The story started slowly, and I feared it was going to be a drag, especially since it was a loaner, meaning that some minor awkwardness may have ensued if I gave up or took six years to finish it. (In truth, I find it nearly impossible to fully give up on a book, unless the book is physically out of my possession. That happens rarely. Heathen, I never did read Herbert Selby, Jr's The Room. But it's still on the radar if that's any comfort, mainly because you recommended it, and everyone should read at least one Selby Jr. novel in their lifetime.) Now that I'm more than half way through Revelation Space, the bugger has become a little bit hard to put down. I could easily be reading it right now. However, a break only teases out the enjoyment for longer. When you finish a great book, you never want it to end. Re-reading it is an option, although Alastair Reynolds is not really that kind of writer. His prose, while polished and engaging, is not in the same league as say Dan Simmons of Hyperion fame. He writes the most lyrical science fiction I've ever read. He also strikes the right balance of plot, character, hard science, and imagination. Still, Reynolds could hold Simmons for at least seven rounds before things became ugly.

Speaking of writers, last night I received two audio recordings on CD of highlights from Harlan Ellison's public lecture tours. They are On the Road with Ellison: Volume II and On the Road with Ellison: Volume III from Deep Shag Records. I have read many books and stories and essays and rants and online posts by Harlan Ellison and about Ellison over the years, but being exiled in this wonderful Lost Continent, very few fans here have heard him speak unless you've bought some of his vinyl recordings. Volume II dates from 1983 and 1984, while Volume III (released this year) dates from 1991 and 1993. Volume I is sold out. Naturally I want it; E-Bay here I come. Anyway, clocking in at over 70 minutes each, and coming home from work at 9:00pm, and mucking around on the web, and snatching 12 pages of Revelation Space, I only managed to hit the sack at around 1:30am. Yes, I just had to hear both CDs in their entirety last night. Ellison live comes across as more of a showman than I had expected. This guy simply craves attention and needs to be heard. It just so happens that he's very good at this shtick and has a lot of sensible opinions (and facts) to share.

Right. It's now 10:53, which leaves seven minutes to rap about the election and state of the universe in this new Kevin Rudd epoch. Well, the universe is still open not closed, that hasn't changed – it will keep expanding and cooling until in a billion billion years, all the black holes have evaporated and all the stars have burnt out and turned to dust, resulting in a vast diffuse cloud of inert quantum spacetime. Right now, Kevin07 is like one of those nominated team captain at school on sports day, choosing kids to be on his side. I'm happy with the result of last Saturday's election. This is down to two basic factors: (a) John Howard just had to go. His head is too fucken old, his ideology is too fucken old, and his party members are too fucken lame. (b) Kevin Rudd actually wanted to win badly. Whether his policies pan out remains to be seen, but it will be an interesting three years. If he continues to show the same gumption and savvy hipness that he did during the election campaign, he could be the first real leader we've had for a long time. Not merely a project manager or embarrasing figure head, a leader. You know, someone you want to follow, not just pay tax to grudgingly, snigger at when she or he gives awkward speeches, or becomes an easy target for The Chaser's War on Everything. Rudd's acceptance speech on the night had none of the me-too gaffs that made me cringe during the lead-up.

"The price of freedom is eternal vigilance." – Thomas Jefferson

friday : 23 nov 2007

8:06am. Friday again...that means there's only three days to go until Monday rolls around, and we all go back to work. Yipee, totally marvelous.

Now, don't forget to visit the polls tomorrow for the federal election. Heh heh, I've already voted, thanks to the presence of an absentee polling booth near my workplace. I'm planning to have a hangover on Saturday, you see. Same thing. I went for the predictable political party and choice of prime minister – no change from the last couple of elections. It amazes me that even now, I still speak to people who (a) don't know yet who they're voting for, or (b) refuse to vote because it goes against a bizarre personal principle of theirs.

I mean, ten minutes on the crapper should be enough time to ponder and decide, surely? You do wonder what on earth occupies most people's minds all day long. Is Life for them just a matter of reacting to sensory stimuli, like amoebas and parameciums do? Choose a fucking lane. This stuff is important.

thursday : 15 nov 2007

7:48am. I am doing somersaults. Because tonight I'm seeing my second favourite movie Blade Runner tonight in its fixed, expanded, tweaked, uncensored director's cut version. This exclusive 4K digital projector screening is happening at the Astor from now until Sunday, so don't miss it. The DVD streets on December 19th. By the way, this will be the third night out I've had this week, and I'll be stumbling around tomorrow night as well, receiving additional doses of alcotherapy.

thursday : 8 nov 2007

With two brutal days at work – finishing at 9:15pm two nights in a row – it was gratifying to return home this evening to a working television set and see vivid, gruesome brain surgery footage on Amazing Medical Stories.

It turned out that the same Loewe technician who delivered and installed my cherished Ergo widescreen seven years ago was the person I booked for this job through another company. For the record, the power transformer had snuffed it, which the things are apparently prone to do "after about seven years". Yeah, nice one. I'm just glad the main circuit board was undamaged. Now I can enjoy the marvel of cathode ray picture tube technology for another two years...until flatpanel displays reach my performance requirements, or a rich girlfriend springs for the gorgeous 65-inch 1080p Panasonic Vieta, priced at a cool $12,999 – discounted from $15,000. (Go drool over it at David Jones in Chadstone Shopping Mausoleum.)

So, with the telly doing a pretty reasonable impression of a ship anchor all this week, Yours Truly has been listening to a lot of music (and I do mean hours and hours of non-stop music), seeing two cinema flicks, and reading Revelation Space like a thing possessed. Chuck in mad working hours and Toxic updates have been scarce, apart from a small kick-start to clearing the backlog of censorship updates and investigations. At least I can now hire and watch Hostel II on DVD for the uncensored footage, although I somehow suspect that the extended assembly of Knocked Up will get pole position on the DVD spindle.

I'm out tomorrow night in the city as per usual, and organising to meet other local 9/11 activists on Sunday afternoon for a casual chin wag. Have a good weekend yourselves!

sunday : 4 nov 2007

My Loewe widescreen TV imploded on Saturday afternoon. I had just booted up Runaway Train in the DVD player. The amplifier volume was still on Damn Loud from my drunken Halloween night festivities, so when the MGM logo audio blasted through the speakers, I heard a fizzing noise from the TV, followed by the smell of gunpowder. That stupid MGM intro has always been mixed way too bloody loud, and now it's claimed a victim. I suspect that only the burnt-out fuse needs replacing, and not the whole TV motherboard. Fingers crossed. I've booked a Loewe technician to take a look on Thursday.

This does mean, of course, that I'm unable to watch DVDs or digital broadcast television. The spare 4:3 Loewe has been brought into service, but it's location makes it impossible to watch for long periods of time. At least I won't miss Californication tomorrow night. Speaking of which, I've learnt that the titles of Hank Moody's novels are actually the names of Slayer albums, God Hates Us All, etc. How amusing, in a pointless kind of way.

Lastly, I received another silent call from my nuisance phone stalker a few days ago. Everybody should have one. I've had mine for years and the routine is always the same. I'm not home, voice mail kicks in, faint background noise is recorded but no verbal message, then mystery caller hangs up after about five seconds. Or I do answer, but the caller says nothing, then hangs up. Of course there's no caller ID number to ring back. Vaguely annoying.