Just finished reading “We” this morning. It was an odd read, translated from 1921 Russian, so some of the phrasing is awkward, but overall quite good. Retro poeticism intermingled with the struggle of the individual vs society in the name of rationality, it isn’t something most modern people haven’t read before in Brave New World, Clockwork Orange or 1984, but “We” was one of the first, if not the very first novels to tackle the subject. That it was written by a man in the aftermath of the Russian revolution which formed the Soviet Union gives the novel an unexpected weight and a wide-eyed (but not starry), glimpse of one of the major themes of the 20th century.

It was a fun read, with a good amount of weighty material to geek out over. Thanks to Robin for the unexpected gift.

First reaction: that should have been better.

Battlestar Galatica was a good show. It was not a perfect show, but at times it was extraordinarily great. The final hour of it was an exercise in navelgazing fanboy wankery that not only jumped the shark, but turned around and ran the boat over it. That last hour it stopped being a show and became a long rambling love letter by that ex you really, really wanted to stay in a relationship with, but they were just too crazy and you got tired of the rollercoaster. The show stopped being a show and tried to be something more, Something Deep and Meaningful and it failed, while turning into a joke. Then you found out that the past 5 years was just angels mucking around in celestial version of Trading Places and you realize how terrible the joke is.

I had thought that 2 hours wasn’t enough time to wrap everything up. It was actually too much, giving the writers time to pad things out and seeing how much they could screw with the audience.

Second reaction, after sleeping on it: That was really terrible, see previous paragraph.

These are from Russian photographer Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii.

Rare color photos from Farm Security Administration, taken in the ’30s and ’40s.

I had brought my camera and tried a few few shots from my seat in the audience, but my heart wasn’t in it and my hand knew it. It shook badly and the few shoots I took were blurry and out of focus. The sound was too magnificent to concentrate on the visuals.

The Cowboy Junkies were here and doing what they do best, playing music.

It was fantastic. The band is good. Margo, the lead singer has an amazing voice and the Michael, the guitar player is a phenomenal player. They are also the most unpretentious band I’ve ever seen. Margo introduced everyone and thanked their crew and thanked everyone for showing up and as she said that the rest of the band clapped. They literally just walked out on stage (just 10 minutes after they were supposed to start), waved, picked up their instruments and started playing. Margo walked out a minute later, holding a cup of tea and sank into her vocals, getting warmed up, before ripping loose with a fantastic set of pipes for the next hours.

Afterwards, Margo came out into the lobby to make and take with fans, take pictures, etc. Lisa and I got to met her, and I babbled like an insane fan, I just couldn’t believe I was talking to the lead singer in my favorite band, you know? She laughed and we went on our merry way. That was a week ago and I’m still high from that show, it was so fantastically amazing.

Delicious slices of visual magic, served warm, by artist Dmitry Maximov

We went to see Coraline this afternoon, on a whim, because hey, it’s stop motion animation and by Tim Burton, so what’s not to love?

Well, it was stop motion, but it wasn’t by Tim Burton and man it showed. Visually stunning (and in 3D), the first few minutes were wonderful, as we settled in to something that we just knew was going to be amazing as fantastic graphics flew out from the screen, in beautiful color and gorgeous motion.

But someone forget to get the story, characters, character design, and pacing right. The movie quickly took on a too dark tone, shepherded forwarded by an unlikable lead character and her unlikable parents in a plot that plodded along like a solar powered wheelchair going uphill on a cloud filled day. It had all the elements of a good story, but ultimately it fell down like a tired drunk person: you were glad when they finally shut up and passed out.

The worst part was the 3D glasses. When I was kid, they were cool to keep, they’d turn the world red in one eye, blue in the other. The ones we got were just cheap nerd like frames that made the regular world appear dimmer when you looked through them, which after seeing the movie, makes sense.

In seven days, I will be in the midst of acoustic bliss, otherwise known as the Cowboy Junkies. They’ve usually only appeared in Atlanta, but I always missed them for one reason or another. I was determined to see them on their next tour through, so it was great to learn that they were going to playing in Savannah. Talk about perfect timing.

Still can’t wait.

There are definitely reasons why I don’t write here more often. Part of it is that it seems silly, part of it I’m off elsewhere writing and part of it is that I can’t stick to any one subject when blogging, if past experience is any guide, and it usually is.

At the moment, I’m laying in bed while the wife is sitting next to me, making a grocery list and and children, excuse me, teenagers, are upstairs doing whatever the teenagers do and I’m not going to think about that too much ‘cause if I do I’ll run upstairs and demand that they stop doing it, whatever it is, even if I don’t know what it is. Such are teenagers.

General thoughts:
It’s cold out, but not as cold as the north east, so I can bear it. How do you know you’re in the South? When the afternoon temperature is around 50 degrees, yet people are “trying to keep warm.” That’s not cold people.

Obama is doing swell things. Yeah, I said swell, so what?

Pigs can fly.

Tacos are tasty.

Superbowl food is aweeome.

Pigs, tacos, food. I should get up and have breakfast.

As you get older, getting by on 5 hours of sleep doesn’t happen.