The Mimosa Effect 2

I think I might have to start posting weekly Magnetic Fields videos.  Some of the best marriages of indie pop music with weird and wonderful video footage from the days of yore (in this case, Star Trek’s infamous gladitorial scene).  Stephen Merritt himself is the one putting the videos up on YouTube, so there shouldn’t be any issue with them mysteriously disappearing in the night.

I’ve always liked the Magnetic Fields, but it was a posting of one of the videos on Neil’s site that led me to find these.  Stephen Merritt is doing the music and lyrics for the new theatrical adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s children’s book ”Coraline.” The production will have its world premiere at New York’s Lucille Lortel Theatre Theater from May 6 to June 20, 2009.

Warning: Spoiler Alert (Don’t read this if you haven’t seen Act III yet)

This is where the story ends, not at the beginning
This is where the whole thing falls apart
This is where you tell me that you’ve found a happy ending
Even as I’m picking up the pieces of my shattered broken heart

– The Sand Crickets, “Appealing to Your Sensitive Side”

Billy’s Lament

I was once a man of feelings
 all the things that life reveals in
  twenty seven years took that away
I was once a man of conscience
 but all I ever had is gone since
  she became the liability
Thought she’d save the world some day
 thought she’d bring me to my senses
Who would ever think that we’d be standing on the brink
 Just when I thought she’d broken down all my defences
Why’d it have to be this way?
 All the world is crashing down
Why couldn’t you please just stay
 by my side up to the final minute
  the world’s so cold without you in it
   maybe I should just stop
    feeling
    thinking
    hoping
    breathing
    living….
No, there’s only one way this can end
 I’ve got this far in life without a friend
  I can go much farther if I only carve my heart out
   leave it lying in the gutter for the rain to come and cover
    it and never look behind that way again
Why’d it have to be this way?
 All the world is cold and dark
Why couldn’t you please just stay
 here inside me, here beside me, here…
  … can anybody hear me?
   … can anybody?
    …anybody?
No one in this world can help me now
 I’ve lost everything there is to lose
I’ll keep going on somehow
 Now that there is nothing left to choose
There’s only one way for me to live
  and that’s by killing everything that ever loved
   that ever felt that ever cared that ever wanted
    more from life than it could give
Why’d it have to be this way?
 I think I know what she would say
  If only she were hear to say it…
   but I’ll never hear that voice again
This is where the story
  ends.

(Of course, it works a lot better if you can hear the melody… but they haven’t invented telepathic blogging yet - at least not that I know of. Written at 2 a.m. after watching the third and final instalment of Joss Whedon’s short film, “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog.” Typical bloody evil genius that he is, he sucks us in by making us laugh our asses off, and then breaks our heart at the end. Bastard.)

-T.H.

(for Saturday Scribes)

Sal squinted into the darkness of the old stone corridor. She was quite seriously considering fratricide. Walking the length of an underground maze with only a ball of string, a piece of chalk and a candle to guide her was not, as it turned out, nearly as exciting as it had seemed in the stories she had read as a child. It wasn’t that she was expecting to run into a Minotaur around the next corner - these cramped corridors were rather too small for that - but the prospect of being lost without food or water, alone in the Byzantine twists and turns of a seemingly endless, dank-smelling labyrinth was not an appealing thought. It wasn’t so much the spectre of death by thirst or starvation that bothered her, as much as the idea of being rescued by her brother Jack. He’d be mocking her for it until their hair turned grey and their teeth fell out, if she didn’t kill him first.

>> MORE….

Thanks to Grondzilla for giving us the heads up on this, or we might have missed it, and that would have been an utter tragedy:

The free version is only going to be up on the website until July 20th.  Act I & II are already up, Act III to premiere on July 19th.  Help support the Joss Whedon internet revolution!  Peace out… (er, but… not literally.. peace I mean…)

 Miss Kitty Fantastico!
 Newest member of the Haney-Harrison household.

We were keeping it quiet for the first couple of days until we were sure everything was going to work out.  The other 2 cats, 4 fish and 1 turtle are all fine, excepting Freddie (fish #5), the 8-yr-old blind albino goldfish, who is still M.I.A. While our two big guys were initially less than pleased with the introduction of MKF (aka “Miss Stinky”), Jake (the tabby) is caving fast, and is quickly becoming MKF’s newest bestest playmate. Dude (the other, he says “original”, black cat) is still Mr. Grumpy but is gradually easing into a grudging (and occasionally interested) semi-acceptance.  Miss Kitty was adopted through the Animal Rescue Krew (ARK) and the good folks at our local Pet Valu store.

More M. pics of Miss Kitty can be found here.

Where the Hell is Matt? 2008 video (If this one doesn’t work, you can find a working one on Matt’s website: http://www.wherethehellismatt.com )

That is just so totally full of awesome.  (Even if it was funded by a gum company.)

For some reason, when I first attempted to write something with this week’s Saturday Scribes prompts in mind, I came up with this poem here, which ended up having nothing to do with any of them.  So I tried again, on the theme of “communication”, which led to “media”, which led to this (the process of which is as much of a mystery to me as it likely is to you).

Featured in a magazine:
One dilapidated time-turner
Family heirloom, owner recently deceased
Well-used, some rust, a few scratches
Runs fine despite appearances
(battery must be kept charged at all times)

On the front page (Monday edition):
Unexpected demise of local dignitary has locals shocked and saddened
Baffled authorities are requesting that any witnesses please come forward immediately

Debunked on popular website:
Rumours of time running amok proven false
Regional gossip and sightings of recent eclipse appear to be to blame, although experts aren’t ruling out the usual suspects: Sightings of Venus, the moon, flocks of geese at twilight, and bugs on camera lenses

As seen on TV (evening news edition):
Temporal anomalies no longer considered just a “regional phenomenon”
Reports are still coming in from all around the country, although most of them seem to be centred on the West Coast and the Mid-Country
Authorities are pleading with the public to remain calm, and to call the emergency help line if they are in need of assistance
Dunbury residents in particular are asked to steer clear of the area between Fleet Street and Coddleberry Lane.

As reported on short-wave radio (anonymous survivor, call-sign “XX2342”):
Yeah, it’s just me and the wife out here, goin’ on three weeks; although it’s hard to tell time lately, if you know what I mean. I was told the army guys would be comin’ by but I ain’t seen ‘em yet. There’s been a couple supply drops, mostly I hear the planes at night, then I have to go lookin’ for the boxes in the morning. Been livin’ off MRE’s for a while now. Good thing they dropped water too, everything here’s contaminated – no, not poisoned, it ain’t like that… it’s just… you can’t eat or drink anything here, or start fires using local wood or nothin’. Everything’s all out of phase, kind of thing. Tell the truth, not really sure when the stuff was dropped, before or after it happened - but at least you can live off it. Not sure for how much longer, though. What? It’s been how long? Nearly a year? You gotta be shittin’ me… Aw, crap – not again…. Look, I gotta sign off, I’ll check back in later, the generator’s busted again. Damn pieces keep goin’ missing. Just tell ‘em not to give up on the rest of us, all right? Even if it has been twelve months for the rest of you – we’re still out here.

As featured in a magazine:
One novelty item, mysteriously labelled by owner as a “time turner”
Appears to be a combination of a pocket watch and an antique compass (see photo)
Some rust and scratches, needs polishing
Original use unclear – should make nice decorative accent once restored.

The sun has seven petals
One for tomorrow
 full of wishing and promise
  the day that never comes
   although we always know it will
   — Faith

One is for evening
 violet-blue of twilight
  grey shadows at dusk
   brilliant in serenity
   — Solitude

One for the dead of night
 fondness grown in absence
  delicate as razors
   the blissful oblivion of sleep
   — Mortality

One is for morning rising
 the first blush of false dawn
  mist off the lake
   golden in memory
   — Hope

One for the noonday sun
 baked earth, cracked clean
  sweat on the brow
   the sweetness of shade sought
   — Endurance

One is for stormy weather
 wave-tossed, wind-lashed
  dark clouds seething
   cold biting skin
   — Adversity

One is for today
 always with us
  never faltering
   limitless potential
   — Life

-T.H. (not entirely sure where that came from, since it bears no relation whatsoever to any of the Saturday Scribe prompts - hence the second try, in the form of the short prose bit that I’ll be posting next) 

John Scalzi (over at AMCTV), on why scifi movies are rarely truly funny (at least intentionally). As usual with Scalzi posts, the ensuing discussion in the comments section is worth reading, as people weigh in on the central question posed in the article.

Unfortunately, it only helps to make the inevitability of seeing Wall-E (which is already getting great buzz) something to look forward to even more. Unfortunately, because I much prefer to see a film with low expectations, and be pleasantly surprised, than to go to a film filled with child-like excitement, only to be let down (for which there are many opportunities with genre movies, these days). So I will just have to struggle a bit harder to maintain my facade of cool disinterest.

As so often is the way of things, Brick had been looking for something else when he found the shoe.

It was under a rock, in the desert. The cactuses were blooming. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen anywhere, hadn’t been for weeks now - not even when you needed one. Especially then. It was, Brick thought, an odd place for a shoe to be. He had seen single shoes before – lost, forgotten, abandoned – by the side of the road, mostly. They always made him feel oddly nostalgic, and slightly unsettled at the same time. He used to wonder, why just one shoe? Why didn’t people ever lose them in pairs? The only time you ever saw pairs of shoes, they were tied together and thrown over telephone wires.

Brick sat in the shade of the rock, holding the shoe in his sunburned hands, and wondered who had been the first person to do that. He used to think it was big kids being mean to smaller ones, stealing their shoes and throwing them where they couldn’t reach. But then it became a trend. He’d heard that kids even went so far as to buy old pairs of shoes at the thrift store, just so they could throw them over the wires. This one looked brand new. It was one of those state-of-the-art running shoes, with all the bells and whistles. A shoe looks like that, you should be able to log onto the internet with it, send photos to your friends, call your mom and order up groceries while you were at it. He half suspected the damned things came with their own ring-tones.

>>MORE….