It's late night (even with daylight savings time) and I'm up. I can't sleep because of a headache (again) so I'm sitting here, surfing the net and watching the idiot box.
Even with cable, there's not a lot to choose from this time of night, but I've lucked out. Galaxy Quest is on. In a time where most comedies seem to depend on unlikeable immature characters doing stupid things that stretch credulity, I find this movie to be funny and ultimately good-natured at its core. And this comes from a long time Star Trek fan.
My first foray into SF was when I picked up Robert A. Heinlein's The Rolling Stones, thinking it was about the band. Although I eventually parted company philosophically with RAH, I still remember the mind widening experience that reading his juvenile fiction provided. I went on to the "masters" - Clarke, Asimov, and so forth. I don't read a lot of current SF anymore.
It's not because it's poorly written. But it's not well written, either. It's bland, mediocre. And it seems to me that plots that are sufficient for one book are stretched out to three -- or ten.
I have not read any graphic novels, so I can't comment on their quality or lack thereof.
The one exception to the above is Terry Pratchett. His books are not considered SF; they are filed under fantasy.
Mr. Pratchett is, in my opinion (and that of a lot of reviewers), this era's Jonathan Swift. His satire is based on razor-sharp observations of the facts and foibles of our own society; he simply (I should say, he makes it look simple) stretches these to the absurd.
My favourite sub-set of the Discworld series are the Watch novels, followed closely by the 2 Moist von Lipwig novels.
Unfortunately, Mr. Pratchett has been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. So it is not clear if we will see any more of his novels forthcoming, after the latest, Snuff.
If you haven't read this wonderful series, do yourself a favour. Spend some time with the inhabitants of Discworld, as it rides through space, supported by 4 giant elephants who in turn stand on the back of a massive turtle.
It turns out that in some parts of the universe, the world is flat after all.
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Thursday, 3 November 2011
First TIme
Well, here I am, sitting on my couch, TV blaring in the background, cats prowling and complaining, and deciding to add my voice to the blog-sphere. Why? Why not?
I've been trying to get into the habit of writing. My noggin is filled to bursting with ideas for short stories and other ideas, all begging to be set free. So I figure, writing is writing is writing, right? Right? Or am I just fooling myself/
Sigh.
I know, I know.
Destination Truth is on right now. I have to admit, that and Ghost Hunters are silly pleasures of mine. As far as Destination Truth goes, I know that if they ever found anything of interest or discovered the Yeti for sure, it would be all over the mainstream news before showing up on a cable TV show.
As far as Ghost Hunters goes, well, I'm not a fervent believer, but I don't exactly disbelieve, either. To quote Old Bill, "There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy, Horatio". (And it was spooks the speaker was speaking of thusly.)
But at least the folks on these shows behave with a certain amount of decorum and dignity. (Sometimes not possible when dangling from a rope into the crater of a volcano, but that's okay; we'll overlook those lapses.) But what to make of shows like Repo and Monsters-in-Law or, God help us, the Kardashians?
I watched about 10 minutes of Jersey Shore once, and had to take a long, long shower to scrub the shame off. I don't know which was worse -- watching these horrible, horrible people, or the fact that these horrible, horrible people didn't realize how utterly dreadful they were and therefore allowed cameras to follow them around and record their dreadful antics.
I'm not even going to talk about The Hills.
Enough for one post. I will try to post again tomorrow, but no promises. (I'm sure the world is teetering on the edge, just waiting ...)
I've been trying to get into the habit of writing. My noggin is filled to bursting with ideas for short stories and other ideas, all begging to be set free. So I figure, writing is writing is writing, right? Right? Or am I just fooling myself/
Sigh.
I know, I know.
Destination Truth is on right now. I have to admit, that and Ghost Hunters are silly pleasures of mine. As far as Destination Truth goes, I know that if they ever found anything of interest or discovered the Yeti for sure, it would be all over the mainstream news before showing up on a cable TV show.
As far as Ghost Hunters goes, well, I'm not a fervent believer, but I don't exactly disbelieve, either. To quote Old Bill, "There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy, Horatio". (And it was spooks the speaker was speaking of thusly.)
But at least the folks on these shows behave with a certain amount of decorum and dignity. (Sometimes not possible when dangling from a rope into the crater of a volcano, but that's okay; we'll overlook those lapses.) But what to make of shows like Repo and Monsters-in-Law or, God help us, the Kardashians?
I watched about 10 minutes of Jersey Shore once, and had to take a long, long shower to scrub the shame off. I don't know which was worse -- watching these horrible, horrible people, or the fact that these horrible, horrible people didn't realize how utterly dreadful they were and therefore allowed cameras to follow them around and record their dreadful antics.
I'm not even going to talk about The Hills.
Enough for one post. I will try to post again tomorrow, but no promises. (I'm sure the world is teetering on the edge, just waiting ...)
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