Tuesday various

  • Reading this essay about writing retreats and Heather’s posts about her ongoing writing residency at the Banff Centre…I have to say, I’m more than a tiny bit jealous.
  • Man, I wish Steve Martin had helped pay for my high school’s plays!
  • Okay, that’s not entirely true. I never actually went to any of my high school’s plays. I did see some really decent productions of Grease and Damn Yankees when I was in junior high, though.
  • Seriously, the head of the (elected) Republican party doesn’t even know why Greenland is called Greenland. This goes beyond the global warming debate; this is fifth grade social studies he’s failing there.
  • Edgar Allen Poe to publishers: Sorry for being such a drunk. [via]

Friday Night Video

Melodies derived from stock charts:

Via Gerry Canavan.

I’m immediately reminded of these videos of classic hits as interpreted by Microsoft Songsmith — seriously, some of those are wonderfully awful — as well as by people who’ve taken Ze Frank’s already weird voice-based drawing toy and adapted it to interpret popular music.

In general, I’m interested in people who take tools and turn them towards completely unexpected purposes.

Random 10 3/13

Last week. This week:

  1. “Fight Test” by the Flaming Lips
    I don’t know where the sunbeams end and the starlight begins
  2. “Wake Up” by Alanis Morissette
    You like snow but only if it’s warm
  3. “Twenty One” by the Cranberries
    I don’t think it’s going to happen anymore
  4. “With a Little Help from My Friends” by the Beatles, guessed by Clayton
    Does it worry you to be alone?
  5. “I Hope that I Don’t Fall in Love With You” by Emiliana Torrini (orig. Tom Waits), guessed by Generik
    And I wonder, should I offer you a chair?
  6. “Stairway to Heaven” by Dolly Parton (orig. Led Zeppelin), guessed by Clayton
    With a word she can get what she came for
  7. “Cry Baby Cry” by the Beatles, guessed by Kim
    The duke was having problems with a message at the local bird and bee
  8. “Rad” by Smoosh
    Get on a soccer team, you can help them
  9. “Uncle John’s Band” by Jimmy Buffett (orig. the Grateful Dead), guessed by Clayton
    I got me a violin and I beg you call the tune
  10. “Ana Ng” by They Might Be Giants, guessed by Kim
    My apartment looks upside down from there

If you don’t know how this works by now, it’s simple: guess the lyrics, win no prize! Good luck!

Thursday various

  • Did you know this was Read an E-book week? Yeah, me neither, and here it is, almost over. I carry my e-book reader with me pretty much everywhere, but right now I’m most actively reading my dead-trees version of Gene Wolfe’s The Sword of the Lictor.
  • Maybe it’s a good thing I couldn’t find an e-book version of Roberto Bolaño’s novel 2666. Apparently, they’ve found another section.
  • I’ve long maintained that Vladimir Nabokov invented the emoticon, but now it looks like maybe Ambrose Bierce beat him to it by several decades.
  • The Saturn Awards have some funny ideas about what is and isn’t science fiction. Then again, I’m perfectly happy to entertain discussions of why shows like The Closer or Breaking Bad — whose terrific first season I’m finally watching — qualify. After all, you can re-interpret pretty much anything as science fiction if you want.
  • “It is entirely reasonable to expect we will find a shadow biosphere here on Earth.” Well there’s something you don’t read every day. [via]

“Masked musclemen and their melon-breasted mamas”?

I can usually accept Lucius T. Shepard’s opinions, because I think they’re often considered and well thought out, but I don’t think there’s any possibility that I could ever agree with him on anything. From his pretty negative take on Watchmen:

Despite the insistence made by some that pop culture be taken seriously as high art, =Watchmen= remains a superhero comic (if it were something else, it would not serve its author’s purpose), and as such its vision of history and its take on human relationships are adolescent and simplistic, and its profundities are merely quasi-profound; its themes, variously interpreted as everything from political satire to the death of the hero, are essentially a juvenile nihilism embroidered with masked musclemen and their melon-breasted mamas. It seems the work of an precocious sophomore whose reading of philosophy ended with Nietzsche and whose literary obsessions (Jack Kirby, Raymond Chandler, and so on) have produced an absurdly pretentious style of noir, a style that has since proliferated and that I’ve come to call the It’s-Always-Raining-Where-I’m-Drinking (high) school of creativity, usually defined by rundown urban settings rife with graffiti and rainy streets awash with obsessed loners and women in tight and/or revealing clothing. Labeling it one of the great novels of our era doesn’t change the fact that you could probably make a list of a hundred better novels written by authors whose surnames start with the letter Z. It’s a seminal work in the comic book field, a genre-expanding work, but the genre it expands, superhero comics, targets a demographic composed mainly of adolescents and adults clinging to their adolescence (I make no implicit judgment here—I’m clinging like all get-out to mine), a vast percentage of whom are prevented by an R rating from seeing the movie.

Which is just so arrogantly dismissive that it pisses me off. It doesn’t matter if you think Watchmen was a great or terrible movie; Shepard is saying that it can’t be great, because it’s based on a comic, and those things — as anybody with two brain cells to rub together could tell you — are by their nature shallow and immature.

It’s not that Shepard levels these charges against Zach Snyder’s movie, or against Alan Moore’s book. Nobody says that he, or anybody else, has to like either of them, or that they should escape all criticism. It’s that he comes in with all sorts of assumptions and prejudices and applies them across the board.

I’m reminded again why, although I can accept Shepard’s opinions, I tend to avoid reading them. And why, although I don’t always agree with her opinions, I think Abigail Nussbaum was completely right about the man.