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[Nov. 20th, 2008|02:11 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  cold | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Dar Williams - Buzzer | ] |
I have insomnia again. I also have 'Wtf is wrong with you?' regarding the entire American species, again, or at least all the ones hereabouts; they cannot bear a little autumn nip, they are entirely ill-equipped to snug it out, and their houses are so shoddy and draughty that they actually have to worry about burst pipes indoors, something that rarely occurs in colder places I've lived in. They don't have draught excluders (I've laid folded towels down) or woolly socks.
I've been walking, reading, running, dithering, dreaming - still all in circles. We went to see Quantum of Solace last week, and watched Casino Royale at home last night; the latter is, still, as dramatic and thoughtful and almost as strong in culture as the book it was named after. I adore that film. QoS was great fun, but compares poorly in the intelligence stakes, and has far less emotional depth. And still, I walked out of it telling anyone who'd listen how much I love Europe. Europe which can survive a little unexpected cold, for the same bloody reason - we didn't, because we couldn't, do this foul thing America has done to itself, of taking the beautiful land we walk on and treating it slobbishly, of laying down as much as they could afford with no regard for anything but size and money. And then Americans go to their giant multiplexes and look at things from Europe, and by absorbing that morsel of culture and reality, they are able to survive in their dead state of numbers and nothing - like vampires.
This is, of course, just my bitchy, homesick opinion of the situation. (Europe has, of course, done the opposite: taken down all the trees, tamed the hills level. But I would rather be there right now; however, I am not, and there is yet more I want to learn about this place).
I'm still trying to work out what was being said, in an emotional sense; the original Quantum of Solace was a Fleming short story which barely involved JB himself; he was merely listening to someone else's story (the same's also true of Octopussy - which, in the canon, was the name of someone's pet octopus, you fucking pervs), one I barely remember now other than that it was about cruelty. About people who do not even have that much, not the slightest bit of solace in their hearts. So I felt like it was being turned on JB and the story was going 'No. Yes. Maybe. Yes. But no!' at its own title. I wish this arc was gearing up to a remake of From Russia With Love, but I bet it's not. Rights issues, I can smell it.
Also, Camille was hot, but she looks a bit like Wren sometimes, and that's scary. Craig was hotter in the last film than this one. Not enough naked, and worse, some of it involved socks.
...
Total Thought Control: 618 energy credits
2 decent infantry units, 1 transport foil, 9 plasma garrisons and a sea former: 12 minerals/turn.
Planetary Transit System: 300 minerals.
A petulant phone call from Miriam demanding I now give her Superconductor or, or, or else: priceless.
(For everything else, there's the Merchant Exchange).
And, I love this song. It is my favourite thing on the new Dar album. It may be the best song about a single scientific experiment that has ever been written. Ever. Album is mostly underwhelming, but also has a nice - though strangely unconvincing - cover of Midnight Radio, plus I really like the last track, Summerday.
You all need to read this, btw. |
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pumped.
bored
tired
refreshed
contemplative
happy
*raising the eyebrows of Doom*