You say it’s whose birthday?
I had a Sixteen Candles moment this morning, staring at myself in the mirror and trying to figure out if I looked any different.
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I had a Sixteen Candles moment this morning, staring at myself in the mirror and trying to figure out if I looked any different.
The weird thing about watching feature films on the PSP is that you end up treating portable video like a portable game or portable text, as something to be picked up and put down at will.
I think I finally understand why people buy houses.
A minute ago, I was trying to figure out why my throat was sore. I think I’ve figured it out.
The book adroitly illustrates the extent to which thinking of video games and television as mindless entertainment is wrong, wrong, wrong.
Great stuff if drinking-hall operettas are your thing, but if they’re not, these songs can get kind of tedious as they wallow in their quaint mannerisms.
Some brief notes on Psychonauts. Psychonotes?
You don’t really need to pay attention to the saga of Caroline and John if you don’t feel like it, though; you can simply appreciate The Forgotten Arm as a really good album.
In a way, Alias just can’t win: its viewers have been trained to expect twists and betrayals at every turn, to the point where the only way to really surprise them would be to not do the shocking thing. (Spoilers within, but they’re pretty much exactly the spoilers you would expect.)
With Monade, Laetitia Sadier has room to do her own arrangements of her own songs, and the result is a much warmer, looser sound than the immaculately-produced soundscapes that Stereolab tends towards.
The Web is no longer this new and shiny thing that I’ve just discovered, but is now enough of an established institution that it can produce “where are they now?” stories.
I spent last night more or less comatose, and most of today lying around continuing the long, slow, process of digestion while I waited (I’m still waiting, really) for the blood to leave my stomach so that I can start using my brain again.
I am on the verge of declaring a total ban on news and politics in my apartment in anticipation of the piss and vinegar that’s going to start getting sprayed all over the place.