(Btw, those 3 will be singing the TV postcard Christmas Carol on SNL next season. Just you watch.)
This time I'm just sore as hell, walking hunched over like an old man. Very slowly and with pain. Like Han after Vader sizzle-tortured him in Cloud City and Leia had to help him get to the wallslab bunk. Vicodin is my new friend, and what a sweet, cozy warm, silly friend he is. When the high school drama teacher asks people to imagine they’re a rug, or a plant as an acting exercise...Vicodin allows me to win an Oscar for ‘Best ‘Coziest Flannel-Douvais’d Down Comforter.”
I wanna punch the surgeon who did my last hernia. I have NONE of the ‘c-clamp on a nut’ pain I did last time. Just the triple jalapeno Dorito-ian Xtreme raw soreness where the work was done. Makes me wonder what the hell that last guy did to give me quadruple the pain last time. I guess he just sucked.
There was two pains – the hernia pain, and the ‘pinched nut in a vice’ feeling. #2 is gone, the boys feel totally fine. Just feels like a wolverine bit a grapefruit-sized chunk out of me where your front hip bone protrudes.
So I'm spending the weekend with some new CD's and a Level 42 concert video I ordered. And the best surprise of all was that the lead singer/bassist Mark King actually signed my DVD! Like many formerly huge 80s bands, a few original members kept it going on a smaller scale - so the 'Band Machine' is more Mom&Pop. The lead member probably mails out the merch people order himself. Anyway, it was cool. And the dvd is fantastic.
The other CD I got was from Joy as a Valentine present. An out-of-print album that Curt Smith of Tears For Fears recorded in 1991 after leaving TFF. Its major league early 90s Euro-pop, quite the adult contemporary. Curt to this day bemoans he even made it, says he made it to end a contract with MCA. I don't care. It's sweet to me.
Anyway, thanks for letting me share. Blogging during recuperation time feels fun and relaxing. So let's blog:
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A little BeLosophy rant from the week:
This past week John Williams and George Lucas were scoring the final Star Wars film, Episode 3, and Wednesday they did alot of the big 12-minute Obi-Wan and Anakin duel scene.
Kinda cool to know that the movie is being scene by a big room of people
this week. Though I'm sure lots of the images are animatics still of
sequences.
I really hope Williams blew his nut on this score. (Nice Dave, more nut talk). Like when StarWars Mike and I watched the special edition Star Trek; the music of the prequels seems so undermixed and not as dominant as the classic trilogy and the Star Trek's of the 70s. If they did Jedi again now, Luke kicking Darth's ass after the sister comment would have been more lightsabre sizz;le, surround sound room sound of the generator, footsteps, the battle outside...and buried in it would have been that demonic descending choral music Williams wrote. I mean it was just damn obvious Luke was falling into the dark and going apeshit with rage with that music.
I watch the prequels with such an open mind and ear and sometimes I just
feel these holes where someone needed to crank the volume on the music. Or
action scenes where more THX surround effects seem crammed in and the music
is barely heard galloping along. I don't need to hear every shnukkle vendor
in the Pod Arena stands selling Corellian CornNuts, and people cheering, I want that
music jammin. I need some help rooting for the CGCartoons George.
Maybe its fine and I'm getting old. But when I watch Geonosis, the music
isn't penetrating me nearly as much as Hoth or Endor. It was
Music-Image-Sound effects. Now it seems Image-Sound effects-Music.
I think if that original recipe was used, the prequels would have "felt"
better to many who didn't like it. Cuz music is always there, you only
hear it a few times when someone's theme was supposed to be heard. The
rest of the time its background music. The classics the music was always
there. And it buffered some of the more sappy moments or lackluster
transitions. The score told you what you needed to feel when a landspeeder
sped along, or people walked down hallways. Kept you locked in the feel of
the universe. I don't get all the time with the prequels. The music for
the speeder chase on Coruscant is classic Williams and I was straining to hear
it on the film. But when I heard the soundtrack, I never knew there was a
tribal drum solo going on in there. Zam and Anakin's engine sounds were
more prevalent. There's Zappa-ian guitar solos in that scene! I swear, weird stuff.
Meh...
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Speaking of Star Wars, this SW novel is great. 'Shatterpoint'. Think Mace Windu starring in 'Apocalypse Now.' Heavier than the usual SW fare. Definitely a hard PG-13.
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Read on if you're one of those people who appreciates or digs on the thought of antiques, or things like inaminate objects that have been around a long time. Like furniture a family had for 150 years and the eras its existed through. Old trees that have been on your block for 80 years. Or Coney Island and all the stories and experiences, memories people had at that place over such a long time. The times these items have seen.
I read an article mentioning one of those Plane Graveyards in the Mojave desert. Where de-commisioned airline planes get stored when they're retired, 747's and the like. Just sitting out there to be used to parts, or to blow up in a movie.
Got me thinking how much thought and emotion would be burned in the upholstery of those planes. How many stories would be contained in the cabins. How many thousands of people over so many years sat in those planes, and thought long and hard about so many things. 200 people, 200 different stories x however many flights x the years the plane was in commission. How much mental energy imbued into those windows, from people looking out them thinking on who they're about see again. Or who they just left, on good or bad terms. Or the life they just left to start anew. Or how much Life Inventory they engaged in having that isolated, private, intense period to be alone with nothing but their thoughts. And being in a plane, you can't pull over. Can't take a detour. Can't move out. Can't stop at a gas station to break for a minute. Plus there's the chance of a crash in the back of your mind. Its a flying 'meditation-with-your-eyes-open' chamber. Its's different than a bus, there's stuff to look at from a bus or train, you can tell where you are. On a plane, you're up there. Just you and air.
People flying to meet someone they love, go home, leave home, leaving a lover, on their way to a funeral, from a funeral, a new job, a dream vacation 10 years in the making, goin to kill someone, comeing from having killed someone. The fear of flying, the anxiety, the glee of someone's first flight. If people can talk about someone 'lighting up a room'...(you don't have to see them come in but you can tell they showed up because the energy of the room changes.) THAT kind of energy is what I'm talkin' about. That energy emitting out the pores from all those plane passengers over the years.
I dunno know. If there was such thing as a 'Plane Whisperer', akin to one of those TV detective 'mediums' that can feel the crime psychic-ley, where it overwhelms them bordering on brain damage, all that power... make one of those mediums press their ear against a decommissioned plane's fuselage to tap into the history. It'd become a scene out of Scanners.
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'Meh!...whadda you know??!! Why don't you go name a monkey..."
Well, okay.
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Go buy and watch and love Firefly.
FOX deserves a molotov cocktail thru the programmer's doors for screwing up that one.
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New band name: Twinkie Barter Coalition.
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