Perhaps its the early sunshine, but I've been waking earlier and earlier, and even getting some things done before I go to work. Today I'm delaying the Monday start, after all, I'm doing a presentation on webby things at Dukinfield Town Hall later on, so may not make it back to South Manchester tonight (or at all.) I went to see "Sunshine" at the weekend, and enjoyed it. Everything's post-modern these days even when it doesn't want to be, so its easy to criticise its sci-fi by numbers. If you've ever seen "Alien", "Appollo 13" and "Silent Running" and that episode of Dr. Who called "The Satan Pit" you've probably got most of the numbers. Yet, it would be churlish to complain, since it looked beautiful, had a certain can't take the eyes from the screen quality, was undeniably cinematic (perhaps a first for a film supported by the UK Film Council), and did touch on a few larger issues. It was head and shoulders above Boyle and Garland's "The Beach" as well. Next time you look up at the sun, it might send a chill through you, seeing how much we depend on that distant orb. Film, in this sense, is a poor substitute for the other arts, when it comes to wondering about our existence and that sublime body. Worth thinking about next time you start to write a poem - that maybe you've all the budget you need! I was in Waterstones at the weekend and came out without buying a book. Everything was so much more expensive than the internet, unless it was in a 3-for-2. Yet again, I was struck by the poor quality of most mass-produced paperbacks. You might as well buy them as an e-Book if that's the way things are going. Though I did pick up a remaindered biography of Muhammad Ali, which I'm looking forward to.
An artist friend came round, as I said I'd help him with a website for a forthcoming exhibition of his. I was impressed by Wordpress - which I used properly for the first time - but can see that for someone who just wants to "blog", blogger remains the less confusing option.
Going back to the bookshelves at Waterstones, its interesting how many novellas seem around these days. They don't call them that of course, but Ian McEwan's "On Chesil Beach" and Philip Roth's "Everyman" are not the only short books out there. For such alpha male authors, size, it seems, doesn't really matter.
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