Godzilla as it was meant to be: rubbery

Went to a movie tonight. Since I was already planning on heading to the theater I decided to make a night of it and treat myself. Eau Claire has a somewhat limited food court, but it does include a Taco Time. Every once in a while I get a craving for a good meat and bean burrito and Taco Time can satisfy. Besides, their Tater Tots are crack with hot sauce.

Sadly, even though I got there before six, Taco Time was already closed. I wound up settling for, and being immensely disappointed by, some Chinese food. It was barely sauced jerky with rice so old and dry it had returned to it’s original crunchy form. As I gagged my way through my meal I noted some others in the food court area.

It wasn’t hard to pick out the Godzilla crowd. Most of us don’t come out into the open air much. Luckily the film was timed such that the sun was already down. As I moved on to the theater the density of the geek intensified. It’s been a long time since I’d immersed myself that deep in the geek.

I got my ticket and popcorn and picked a seat somewhere near the middle towards the back. As I waited for others to arrive a couple of fellows sat down behind me, evidently winded from the long climb up the inactive escalator. Honestly, why have an escalator in a mall if you’re just going to shut it off?

It quickly became apparent as the fellows wheezed and bellowed behind me that at least one of them had some seriously horrible breath. I don’t know what he’s suffering from, whether it be half a mouthful of rotting teeth or a literal Hellmouth opening in his esophagus, but it put me off my popcorn for most of the evening.

Luckily for me when James arrived he picked his own seat and texted his location. I used that as a convenient excuse to retreat from the noxious green cloud.

The movie… the movie was, as James pointed out, about 90% bureaucracy and 10% rubber suit guy kicking chunks of a fairly decently modeled Tokyo around. Some of the light effects were impressive, but not much different from special effects of the seventies.

The movie was bad in a way that made me wish we were watching it in someone’s living room where sarcastic comments would have been welcome.

The particular quirk of this Godzilla movie was the discovery that it evolved and mutated on the spot. It went through four different iterations before settling on it’s final form.

It's first form doesn't have forelegs and it just shoves it's way around the floor.

It’s first form doesn’t have forelegs and it just shoves it’s way around the floor.

The first form reminded me of a cat caught in a sandal, but scales and an expressionless fish head.

Other noteworthy rules of the movie:
1) In Japan it’s important to weigh your future political aspirations while making decisions about a giant monster laying waste to your city. You don’t want to close off future avenues of advancement.
2) American daughters, particularly those born in Japan and raised in the US, have almost incomprehensible accents, bad enough that I was thankful for the subtitles during the English speaking parts as well.
3) If you REALLY want to blow something up, call an American. Then complain bitterly when those same Americans insist that the next stage from aerial bombardment is, clearly, the largest nuclear weapon they can get ready in 24 hours.

Leaving the theater I realized I had downed all my drink but ate less than a third of my popcorn. It’s official. I’m old. There was a time, not long ago, where I ran the risk of finishing my popcorn off before the opening credits were done.

3 hours of stalking while I can’t sleep

I find myself unable to sleep again tonight, consumed by fear and doubt, convinced of my imminent demise. Far too upset to sleep I got dressed (in yesterday’s clothes, no point in dirtying another set) and turned to the internet and Radio Paradise.

Radio Paradise is, more often than not, an excellent choice when I’m upset. It seems to know just exactly when I’m at my worst and hits me with a surprise favorite that perks me up. This morning it was Blue Man Group’s “I Feel Love” featuring Venus Hum. The song has many detractors in the Radio Paradise community. You can rate the tunes and comment on them, and they have a graph displaying the distribution of all the ratings from one to ten. “I Feel Love” (featuring Venus Hum) is rated at a 6.7 despite my sincere “9” rating. The distribution shows a lot of ones and twos and threes. There are people out there who clearly dislike the tune.

But I love it. Headphones are best, as with all my favorite tunes. And with all my favorite tunes the music takes me to a place of daydreams.

Tonight I had the urge to share the tune, even though I knew there’d be a lot of my own friends who simply wouldn’t “get it”. That’s the way it is with all my favorite tunes. They’re my favorites for reasons that don’t work for other people.

Digging through Youtube I found a recording of their live performance. I also found an official video, but for once the live version was better. I posted it and then proceeded to trip down the rabbit hole. I had no idea that “Venus Hum” was a band name, I’d always assumed it was the singer’s name. Youtube had a couple of suggestions for Venus Hum and I checked them out. Good music, and I wanted more.

I was cautious in my search, however. I know the “Feel Love” tune is old, I’ve had it for many years myself, and the video date was some time back in 2006. Doing a search on the band I found they’d formed in 1999. Typical. So much of my favorite stuff comes from the nineties and aughts. The wikipedia entry didn’t mention anything about the band, but it did say their last album release was in 2009. That depressed me a bit. Any band that hasn’t published something in over five years is generally defunct by default.

Then I let myself explore a bit of obsession with their singer, Anette Strean. In the BMG video she did not look anything like my imagination, but watching her on stage, and in Venus Hum’s other videos, I found her face incredibly familiar, and very appealing.

Something about the lips and the smile... and the glasses.

Something about the lips and the smile… and the glasses.

I cannot for the life of me figure out where I’ve seen her face before, but I swear I have. Not Anette Strean’s actual face, because I’ve never met her, but someone. My brain kept skipping on a loop of “she looks almost exactly like…” with that aching lack of conclusion. There was a strong connection somewhere up in my synapses but they refused to resolve in any one person.

Perhaps it’s connecting to some dream amalgam. My dreams, the good ones at least, present me with favorable people who, upon waking dissection, turn out to be an amalgam of multiple people. The women in my dreams especially, combining all the best qualities of my past friends, family, and lovers. Any adversaries in my dreams rarely need more than one person to create a suitable villain, but the nice ones are always very complex.

The face Annette presents has a feel like that, along with an old “high school crush” kind of attachment. So it’s quite possible the person she reminds me of is just someone I’ve forgotten, but it feels like it’s someone I would never forget.

With the obsession of a newborn stalker I did some searches on her. The Venus Hum website looks like it hasn’t updated since the release of their last album in 2009. I was briefly excited to discover she had a twitter account but was then crushed that she hadn’t posted since 2010. I regained the excitement when I found her facebook page. The latest update was from May but at least it was from this year. Reading her last post I find that she’s talking about how May is Mental Awareness Month and she talks a bit about her struggles with Bipolar disorder. She talks about how the diagnosis was both freeing and crushing. Crushing because it labeled her as broken (my paraphrasing) and freeing because at least she now had a point from which she could work and move forward.

I read of her struggles and looked at the photos she has of her family, her husband, and her daughter. I confess to feeling a bit uncomfortable seeing so much of her life without actually knowing her, but I reassured myself a bit with the knowledge that her facebook account was a personal one and what I was seeing was the few bits she made public. Which made me feel good because a surprisingly big part of me wanted to believe she was still posting tons of updates to her friends and family. I wanted to know she was still … existing.

And I’d really like to remember whom it is she reminds me so strongly of. Because it feels like that person might be important. Really important.

But that could just be my imagination building up a connection that isn’t even there. I’m feeling crazy enough as it is these days.

Be well, Annette Strean. I sincerely hope you’re going to make more music and I would love to hear it some day. Please continue to exist out there in the real world.

Catching up on TV

I wound down from work by catching up on a few episodes of Marvels Agents of Shield and an episode of Arrow as I cooked and ate dinner. I’m reminded why I don’t obsessively download each episode every week. They’re not written all that terribly well. I think the BBC in general has spoiled me for good story and intelligent dialog.
Arrow has introduced yet another archer, making… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8… 9 archers in their three seasons so far. If they didn’t also include Deadshot I’d swear the producers had never heard of the benefits of guns. This new addition is the worst, though. They’ve named her Cupid.
This latest episode of Arrow also introduces another DC character from the Justice League: Wild Cat. Unfortunately This is CW’s version of the DC universe, so of course Wild Cat is young and pretty. The original Wild Cat was one of the Golden Age heroes, a boxer who started the vigilante lifestyle before most of these other young ‘uns was ever born. He’s true old school, complete with lots of grey hair. This guy is so young and zen it’s hard to even imagine him fighting at all, let alone being a vigilante on his own. And the story-line has him trying out the vigilante lifestyle six years ago. By the look of him he’d be doing that on Friday nights and weekends to avoid having it interfere with his schoolwork.
Agents of Shield has introduced some more plot twists and gadgets and… that’s about it. The twists aren’t terribly inventive and the gadgets, while cool, can’t support the show. Colson gets his tie back from the cleaners, a villain finds the fountain of youth, and Sky’s father finds a reason for a long life of seeking revenge. All the while they’re looking for something that sounds very suspiciously like Shambala.
Not a terribly impressive night of TV, but it helped digest the meal and switch off the brain.