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Archives for March 2009

not my last words

March 24, 2009 by krisis

I am not an especially sentimental person.

Maybe that isn’t a fair statement. I have sentiment. I care about relationships. I treasure memories. I cry during Julianne Moore movies.

More acurately, I don’t sentimentalize. This is a true fact. I no longer need to save every scrap of paper I’ve ever written on. I don’t treat every holiday and birthday as an extra-special event. Babies are not cute just because they are babies. &c.

One thing I’ve especially not sentimentalized is last words. While I don’t make it a point to walk away angry, I’m not of the mind that your last utterance to someone suddenly becomes the summation of your entire relationship.

I didn’t get a perfect goodbye with either of my grandmothers, but I think they knew all they needed to know about our connections. Would I have taken more time with them if it was given to me? Absolutely – if it was time in their prime, when our relationship was the most real and vivid. But, not just to change whatever silly thing came out of my mouth last. Not to say anything I had left unsaid.

Loss has been on my mind lately, as friends of mine have been experiencing it much too soon. A few minutes ago Elise informed me that last week also took with it the life of someone we are connected to, tangentially. And, while I am not in tears, I am desperately saddened by our loss.

It’s hard with tangents. They aren’t a part of your center, but they are part of your whole. You don’t always think to tell them how much you value and appreciate them, because they touch your life so glancingly.

The thing is, I do think of those things. I make a point of it. Yet, I am wracking my brain for the last time I expressed that to the person we’ve lost, and I cannot place if I ever opened my mouth.

Please open your mouth tomorrow. To the person that least expects it.

Filed Under: thoughts

Battlestar’s parting shot.

March 21, 2009 by krisis

Last night was the series finale of Battlestar Galactica.

Elise and I are hopelessly devoted to the show. After watching the miniseries from Netflix we went all-in, picking up the DVDs on our fifth anniversary before eating sushi in a snowstorm and ensconcing ourselves at home to devour the first two seasons.

We have been addicted ever since. Intriguingly, it’s the only piece of media we’ve ever both been equally obsessed by. I like Buffy more. She likes Alias more. I like Tori more. We hardly ever meet in the middle.

It’s been a wonderful thing to share over the past two years, so much so that it even unexpectedly snuck into our wedding vows. After a terrifyingly thrilling first half of a final season last year, the Sci-Fi network held over the final episodes to air in a single sprint from the night before our wedding through yesterday, Gina’s birthday.

Elise and I have watched each one, and with each our dread has mounted. After a strong kickoff of melancholy and mind-bending revelations, each further meandering turn of the plot seemed to steer us farther away from an exciting resolution to the series.

Having finally arrived at that resolution, I can say that it wasn’t worth the trouble. Any future fan of the show should just end things with the mid-season revelation that earth is a bombed-out husk. Or, for a happier version, proceed directly from Galactica’s jump to husk-earth to about forty minutes from the end of last night’s episode.

Whatever you do, just don’t watch the entirely of the ten pointless, miserable, badly executed hours of television that came between those two points.

(spoilery stuff starts here)

In that interstitial time the decline has been steady. Not only have entire episodes passed by sans plot, but even previously trustworthy elements like dialog and lighting have taken a nose dive.

There have been seeming hours of Edward Olmos crying, drunk, or drunkenly crying. Endless montages of damage to the interior of the ship. A mutiny whose sole point seemed to be to dispose of two primary characters who didn’t fit into the final chapter of the show.

That’s not to say there weren’t any good parts. The mutiny was terrifying and efficient. No Exit‘s theatrical staging and execution were a thrill. The revelation of a missing cylon model and Kara’s subsequent piano aptitude combined to form the best shocker the show has ever delivered … which was hilariously refuted by show-runner Ron Moore, who has repeatedly backtracked and said that the “Daniel” model wasn’t meant to be Kara’s father!

After all of that, as of two weeks ago the show did manage to paint itself into a somewhat interesting corner. Hera, the supposed future of humanity and cylonity, had been kidnapped (again) by a suddenly (again) rogue (again) Boomer. Meanwhile, the damage of their exodus rendered the Galactica nearly inoperable, and capable of precious few future jumps.

If at that point you had read me the following summary, I would have told you that Moore was a genius, that the slow setup was entirely worth it, and that Battlestar Galactica would end in an epic, operatic blaze of glory:

After nearly transferring his flag to the basestar, Adama has a change of heart about the fate of the Galactica. He decides its last mission should be to save Hera and possibly destroy The Colony. Most of the crew decides to join him, and through their conviction and the literal and figurative fires of their most intricate battle they forge a path to the destiny of the human race – a pristine, unmolested earth.

Upon arrival, the Galactica crew dissipates to the proverbial wind, having each served their purpose in shepherding their civilization to a new home. Laura and Galactica both pass away as expected. In a shocking final revelation, Kara – as the personification of the ship and all her struggles – also disappears into thin air.

So, just reading that summary, I would say, “Wow.” And then I would blinkblinkblink for several minutes, because it is just too perfect. How could you possibly frak up such a succinct act-out for such a landmark show?

Well, Ron Moore and a room full of salaried staff writers apparently could.

Despite hewing exactly to the above summary, the entire finale was a ridiculously ornate cliche built upon a foundation of many smaller cliches.

Let me see if I can accurately sum it up for you. First, there was last week’s tepid offering

Daybreak, Pt 1: We found The Colony! Meanwhile, saving a little girl from the Cylons is totally worth the lives of the most qualified people in the fleet! Let’s draw a line down the middle of the hangar bay! No, Cottle, you can’t come, but Lee – the only person qualified to be Admiral OR President – climb aboard!

PS: We couldn’t think of anything bigger and scarier than The Hub, so we went and watched some other sci-fi shows, and decided that it’s a Vorlon Ship made of biological material! And, it’s on the verge of a black hole that isn’t a black hole, but a naked singularity, where almost anything can happen! Isn’t that cool! I bet all the B5 and DS9 fans in the audience will love it, just like they love peanut butter and jelly!

PPS: OMG, AND FLASHBACKS!!!SAFDASFASDF

Which lead to the following

Daybreak, Pt 2: Let’s make up an elaborate plan based on Ellen’s apparently photographic memory of the hallway layout of The Colony! The plan involves inserting our two teams at arbitrary points on the ship to look for Hera in an unknown location! Let’s insert a completely pointless B-plot about Laura working in sick bay, because teachers are just like nurses! Let’s do a roll call! Let’s have Baltar be a stock marine stand-in for the sake of convenience, since he clearly has no other use to us on our hardest mission of all time! Caprica too!

Let’s jump a bunch of raptors out of BSG with no apparent impact to the integrity of the ship! Let’s show five minutes worth of CGI shots of guns! Let’s have BSG breach the colony but not compromise air quality inside at all!

Let’s have Boomer have a last minute change of heart! Again! Let’s have all of the people meet up conveniently and escape without a problem! Oh boy, that makes this whole plan seem really elaborate and hard, especially compared to elaborate and hard plans in Hand of God, Resurrection Ship, Exodus, and The Hub!

Let’s totally forget about the part about the naked singularity, because we couldn’t think of any cool things to use it for! Then, let’s have twenty minutes of dramatic tension based on Hera being a dumbass and none of the marines she is running past noticing her! Then let’s have a dramatic showdown in the CIC where we offer the one thing to the Cylons that they really absolutely shouldn’t be let to have, again, to save a little girl! Then let’s have Tyrol dramatically strangle Tory, risking the fate of the entire human race just because she killed Cally, who would have surely had the final four executed if she had been let to open her giant bitch mouth after almost killing Galen with a wrench!

Let’s have Racetrack’s dead body launch her nukes by mistake! Then let’s have Cavil shoot himself, do a fourteen hour miniseries about Kara typing in the coordinates from Watchtower into FTL, and then mix in the best CG ever shot for television with this awesome stock footage we bought from the Discovery channel!

Let’s gloss over how BSG managed to contact the rest of the fleet while it was in fixed orbit over the moon! Let’s have the entire “human” population give up thousands of years of technology to plant crops and hunt gazelles with pointy sticks! Let’s have eighteen goodbye scenes like in RotK! Let’s have Bill inexplicably leave behind his son to talk to Laura’s grave for the rest of his life, leaving an entire raptor inexplicably remaining on Earth for people to discover in the future!

PS: ZOMGS, I have an idea how to get this puppy up to three hours!!!!111!!1!! Let’s do a C-plot all in flashbacks with Tigh in a titty bar and Laura sleeping with a former student! And, um, I guess you can do some meaningful stuff with Starbuck and Lee, too. You have have four minutes for that, but only if they have to act drunk the entire time.

Actually, maybe Jacob does a better job at summarizing, while reaching the same conclusion (as does the Tor roundtable):

The story itself was interesting, but the execution was simplistic, verging on nonsensical.

The elements I liked were the most insane and unexplained bits of business – the batshit crazy things that went so far past nonsensical that they came back around to being good television. Kara and Lee’s constant antagonism being connected to their first drunken encounter so many years ago. Romo being president. “Watchtower” being the map to awesome-Earth all along (which halfway implies that someone in the past knew about Earth and decided to encode it in the cylons in such a way that could only be decoded by hybrid offspring). Flying the entire fleet into the sun. Baltar returning to farming with Caprica at his side. Kara as a wacky rogue angel, and Head Six and Baltar tramping around in Times Square scaring tourists.

That’s a comprehensive summary of what I loved. Yes, there were some other interesting character beats, and some fine acting. I’m not calling either into question. Rather, I’m criticizing the same writers who inexplicably rushed through the fantastic plot of Revelations for learning nothing from their mistakes and doing the same thing in the actual finale of the show.

Why plot a show this well when you won’t take the time to execute it effectively? I just can’t understand. I’m convinced that if you handed my summary above to a hundred dedicated fans of the show (myself included), over half of us would have scripted a more satisfactory resolution to the show.

Everything else was a disappointment, and in being a disappointing end they recast the rest of this half-season in a harsh, unforgiving light. For all the slow development and missed opportunities leading up the finale, Ron promised the end would be worth it. Now we have him saying things like

The idea was that when Racetrack hits the nukes, they smack into the Colony and it takes it out of the stream swirling around the singularity, and it fell in (to the singularity) and was torn apart. But as we were cutting the show for time, and taking out frames, one of the things that became less apparent was that the Colony was doomed.

They didn’t have enough time to pay off the ridiculous black hole cliche they took such great pains to set up in the first place? Does that sound kind of lazy?

Good, because that’s what they were:

We spent a day just in the room just chewing over plot: “How does Lee land? How does Kara get in? Which corridor are they going down?” It was frustrating and just kind of a pain in the [butt].

I went home, and I wasn’t very happy. Took a shower and in the shower and in the shower I has this epiphany — it was never about the plot. The joy of the show has always been in the characters. The next day on the whiteboard in the writers’ room, I wrote, “It’s the characters, stupid.” I said, “We’ll figure out the plot. There will be a plot, it will be good, we always manage to pull that stuff out, let’s trust in that for now, and let’s figure out what we want to do with these people.”

I said, “I have some images, I don’t know what I want to do with them. I have an image of a man in a house trying to chase a bird out with a broom. I don’t know who it is, but I like it and it’s somehow meaningful so let’s put it up on the board.”

Seriously, I did not make that up. I found it after I wrote the entire rest of the post and it proves me to be 100% correct. They did have a good plot, and they did get lazy about its execution.

Nice to know that my hours and dollars of viewership and fandom got tossed out the window at a story meeting because plotting a sensible finale was too much of a pain in the ass.

Filed Under: thoughts

Polyhacking since a few days ago

March 13, 2009 by krisis

My esteemed friend Matt Lydon has left the confines of LJ for his own WordPress blog.

This is worthy of announcement because – not entirely to my surprise – Matt is a very compelling blogger. He swings from classic literature to pop culture to personal reflection with the ease of a natural writer with a limber pen. His blog is just that – the journal of a natural writer, who happens to post online.

It was my strong opinion that his talents and efforts were being wasted in the vacuum of LJ. Please pay him a visit and see if you agree.

Filed Under: linkylove

“I’m not old,” and other stories from my actual life.

March 12, 2009 by krisis

Before we head into a week of Kelly Clarkson coverage (just kidding!) (but not really!), here’s a brief interlude from real life.

.

(1) Today at work we had a meeting about social networking.

I make it a point not to talk about work so much, but this seems like a big milestone. After all of my years of harping about dragging ourselves into a new digital era I was in a meeting about figuring out how to drag ourselves into a new digital era. My work life has officially merged with my home life.

In said meeting was a hyper-intelligent new employee from elsewhere in the company who joined to chip in her expertise. I expect to be her employee by 2013.

At one point I was trying to articulate how some social networks make a certain amount of sense to me, while others do not. My overly long introduction to that thought was, “It’s not that I think I’m so old (maybe I am), but… [insert communications nonsense here].”

Meeting newbie came back with, “Oh, I don’t think you’re old.”

I should mention that I shaved prodigiously this morning and look about 12.

Somewhere in NJ Kate is still laughing at me.

.

(2a) Is it just a given at this point that we’re all having nightmares about an imminent, complete, worldwide, economic collapse?

I mean, I am certainly not denying the existence of a recession, as the evidence is all around me in my group of close friends. Those nightmares were already existent, thank you very much.

No, this is more global, and more systemic. Like, I just had a dream that I was camping in a derelict, foreclosed row home (possibly just down the street from here), and that the banks were going house to house to take the squatters prisoner to work in their slave camps. They were executing the infirm and the socialists on sight.

Something like that, anyhow. Are you having those nightmares too?

(2b) I generally hate when people blog about dreams. Isn’t real life wonderful and terrifying enough? Dream posts are really the only things I ever redact – I write them all out and then think, Who in god’s name is going to stick around after hitting this tripe off of a Google search?

.

(3) As to my sudden subconscious fixation with us going the way of Mad Max (before subsequently going the way of Waterworld), maybe it’s just because I was reading about motel homeless earlier.

Okay, honestly? It’s more because of my trip to F.Y.E. to buy the Kelly Clarkson album, which is the only reason I would ever set foot into that abomination of a retail establishment.

I detest F.Y.E. on principal – that a chain with so little relevance or personality could supplant Tower Records as the sole national record-seller is inherently offensive to me. Seriously, they could be a chain specializing in argyle socks and turn-of-the-century coffee pots and I feel like the retail experience would be exactly the same.

Anyway.

This afternoon the sales floor was barren. A group of teenagers were lazily playing Rock Band off in one corner. There was a single cash register open, doing no business whatsoever.

I was accosted by five employees in quick succession within 90 seconds of entering the store. Each of them asked if they could help me find anything, with a certain lingering desperation in their eyes. Like, “for the love of god let me help you find something; if I don’t sell at least two CDs every hour they’ll fire me.”

I started assigning them trivial tasks, just to clear the cannon fodder. One lad I engaged with couldn’t find an explicit version of a Pink album and mumbled some mea culpa like, “You know I could just burn that for you or something did you want maybe a Pink Floyd album instead you know I went to college to get this job please just kill me.”

I did a lot of nodding and backing away, and found myself cornered by another sales associate in the classical section.

It took a while to escape with my Kelly, who always leaves me feeling obligated to stimulate the economy by purchasing music at irrelevant brick and mortar retailers.

.

(4a) The house at the end of our block burnt down last week. The debris is still on the sidewalk, giving off a certain hickory flavor.

Last week I wouldn’t leave the house for work until the firemen stopped looking concerned. In row homes that’s only eight doors from here.

(4b) I spend all this time (and money) acquiring Kelly Clarkson albums and guitars and French graphic novels, and all of that could burn away in a matter of minutes. Or the renegade banking enforcement brigade could kick down my door and take everything in the financial holocaust.

It makes me think about the intangible things in my life that have value. I guess in that way social networking is a beautiful matrix, containing all of the memories you might have lost in the flames.

My songs can never burn down. My blog can never burn down.

.

(fin) I’m just going to keep living my life, going to meetings, and creating things.

And listening to Kelly Clarkson albums.

Filed Under: corporate, thoughts, Year 09 Tagged With: kelly clarkson

Ani DiFranco, circa 1994.

March 10, 2009 by krisis

An amazing hour-long interview and concert with Ani DiFranco and Andy Stochansky from 1994 – fifteen years ago.

It’s a fantastic time capsule – bald Ani! bushy-haired Andy! enthusing over selling-out a 1200-seat show!

The concert portion is treasure trove of Out of Range songs. For the guitar freaks out there (hi!) it includes crystal clear video of her playing “4th of July,” “Hell Yeah,” “Letter to a John,” and the heretofore unseen “Face Up and Sing” and “How Have You Been.”

Then, later, a drums-only “Every State Line” and fucking “FALLING IS LIKE THIS.” Seriously. I kid you not. And, apparently I’ve been playing it mostly right for the past ten years. Oh, and “Pick Yer Nose,” “In Or Out,” “My IQ,” “Anticipate,” “Not So Soft,” an acappella Bruce Colburn song, and a nearly album-verbatim version of “Out of Range” (disappointingly shot tight from above her guitar).

If you had told me there was a DVD of this two hours ago I would have paid you $50 for it.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Ani DiFranco

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