#464

Oh no! I let October end without filling the seven-post imaginary quota I already absolved myself from when it comes to the chilling, frigid depths that Factually Macabre 2024 potentially represented. I did not properly discuss ghosts, some might say--some people who might try rereading the presented works with more circumspection. Or at the very least, with widened apertures. But at any rate, four is less than seven, and casting the shadow of ghosts is not the same as discussing ghosts forthrightly, and for all this, I don't apologize at all. This is my little censored and redzoned corner of what was once the vast and untamed Web, and if I want a stretch of silence to symbolize a post about ghosts and perhaps allow you to wonder if I have quit or, of course, expired, then I will, no bones about it. 

Or, some bones. Skeleton bones. 

Factually Macabre 2024

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With that out of the way, I'll tell ya: I have suffered severe spiritual, physical, and chronomatic disruptions since last I posted. So I'm just gonna say some stuff about video games, specifically me and video games, like writing about boys I like and why in my diary, because who gives any fuck about any of that shit, or the fact that it's November and here we go with the fucking politics to where like, by the end of the week, will I have to barricade my house against a pack of inbred lunatics whipped into a frenzy by the depradations of AR trolls, con artists, and race war agitators? Who fucking cares. Who gives a shit what plot point kills you in this batshit freaky narrative. As far as I'm concerned, and as far as I have always been concerned, uniformed strangers with submachine guns could murder or deport me at any time for completely fabricated, indeed, feverishly imagined trangressions or potential transgressions. This has been true since I grew pubic hair, basically. Who gives a fucking fuck--who fucking cares. 

If I get deported, I'm just going to walk to the nearest beach and bum there till I die. Full disclosure. I guess I'm assuming I'll get deported roughly in the direction of my geographic origin, though I guess they could as easily deport me to Greenland if they liked. Who would stop them?

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Closing in on the end of the main story of Unicorn Overlord, and while it seems to be promising a rich enough postgame experience and of course has assured me of its replayability every step of the way, I am lingering over the final bite and filling in many tasks, powering up weapons, filling my pockets, leveling stragglers, etc.--the kind of behavior symptomatic of one who is about to walk away from a finish. Or, as is also true of me, getting ready to absolutely subjugate the final hurdle.

It is my preference, and there is much debate in general around this issue, but it is my preference, if given any kind of chance, to go against the final boss or final enagement of an adventure or campaign with the benefits of the kind of maniacal preparation that allows me to take hold of that entity and snap its scrawny fucking little neckbones purely as a gesture of my dominance. It is how I have always chosen to destroy Sephiroth, for example--laughing at him, as I would laugh at a child whose forehead I was holding onto as they swung their clenched little fists madly at thin air.

So yes, I'm going to go into the eponymous final battle of Unicorn Overlord with my weakest characters leveled higher than the average enemy level by at least three and every person kitted in the absolute cream of the available equipment, their nested arrangements precision-tuned to devastate every mix of units that might be foolish enough to ensnare itself in any one of their ten arrangements, ten steel flowers in deadly bloom, ten buffeting gusts of a howling gale I have dubbed DECA-KAZESHINI.

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Unicorn Overlord consumed me entire, as a flame consumes and causes magnesium to flare like a young star, but here in this slowing period at the end I've had a chance to start up Octopath Traveler and New Pokémon Snap. Pleased to have the headpsace to return to playing Zelda, and being able to play Banjo-Tooie on my Switch is nothing but a joy. Looking forward to FFVII: Crisis Core Reunion when all that has been more worked through.

The new music app from Nintendo, distributed free with the online membership I already subscribe to, is an answered prayer. They have modeled their music player and its organizing principles on iMusic rather than something like spotify, cementing once again how perfect Nintendo and I are for each other and what a harmonious marriage we might enjoy. As a matter of shared preferences and shared values--speaking purely in terms of design and philosophy--no company on earth hews more closely to me, nor I to any other.

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As a parting idea, I'd like to discuss playing the Gunner in the warthog in Halo. I love doing that. It essentially consitutes its own game--mainting your targeting reticule and optimizing the lethality of your payloads during every millisecond of the endeavor is to me one of the highlights of the series.

That's all. I have no problem driving the car or flying the aircraft, and will if called upon--but it is the defense of these machines by way of the most withering possible offense that I truly adore.

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Fucking hell I want only to be alone why does anyone ever leave their little area for any reason? I have, despite my fundamental desire to not do so, done many things recently. Even been to the zoo. I must admit I do enjoy the zoo.

--JL

#431

Today is my first tiny shift at the movie theater! What a life. What a privilege. Easily the most bohemian employment I have ever managed to secure, except for I suppose being a folkpunk roadie, but as that was unpaid labor, it's a different tenor. Gonna work very hard to bring value to the place. 

It's too bad to be back to making kid cash, but it's what you'd expect at a nonprofit. And this limit on our shared material gain as household with the money and the hours is what I need in order to still be able to do art and wrap up school. It is a compromise in my favor that I will do my best to honor. 

Woof. It's heavy. But I'm ready. Ah, to be embarking on a new leg of the journey! Again, what a privilege.

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Do I have elaborations on yesterday's notions? I think not today, but sometime soon. I especially want to clarify what I mean about quitting our jobs and doing whatever we want, which is a phrasing I stand by but which may require significant teasing out in order to be fully coherent.

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More want to say that the music I have been listening to has stayed essentially on the soundtracks tip, but has also moved into various reorchestrastions in the case of the Pokémon games soundtracks, which aren't really available on the wretched phone services.

Something else I should really consider is getting back into owning the lion's share of my own digital music, even if I have to steal it. What a sham life it is, paying apple x amount over x time for an ephemeral and limited capacity to give me the infinite reach and unerring grasp I crave when it comes to condensing music from the aether. 

Look, I use the service constantly. It gives unto me. But the compomise galls. That's all I'm saying. I miss being able to play .midi files ripped from a ROM on my iPod because it was all so much looser and trickable back in the day when my skills were edgy and my hunger sharp. So what if it was illegal and is still illegal? We lead short lives. I pay many personal prices for modernity along with the many we all pay as a species and force every other organism and the very crust of this earth to pay; at the very least, I should get to play a lot of video games and listen to a lot of music. I'll give up a lot of my money for the privilege, but I will also get what I consider is fair for the asking, and I'm not gonna lie to you: it's always more than what a company is willing to offer. So be it. 

My relationship with Nintendo springs to mind. They get a lot of my money and give me to most value out of any company, in my estimation. Sue me if it's an exceptionally 1% of the planet relationship, these luxury entertainment stylz, fuck it. It's the 21st century. As I say, video games are my personal blood payment for the suff'rance I grant the durance vile of modernity. And still I want more. They should give me more. I should be granted shatterproof assurances that my digital ownerships are ironclad, the they will have my back as much as I have theirs, etc. I'm tired of talking about all of this.

Anyway 0.5: I want like a tricorder from Star Trek with all of human culture nestled safely in its databanks and room for the full cultures of a million more species plus all that other juicy dope shit a tricorder can do. Damn, that would be fucking rad. 

Anyway 1: these reorchestrations are very teh bombuh. Braxton Burks, Masters of Sound, Eric Buchholz, Skotein, to begin a long list I don't have time for. Wonderful stuff, at any rate. 

Anyway 2: electric boogaloo

Anyway 3: think this is it for me.

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Dang man here we go, gonna take a shower put on some pants a guy's gonna give me a shirt to wear and I'm gonna stand with a person and welcome human beings into a moviegoing experience from 2-5 after a couple of hours of paperwork and orientation stuff. Ok wow. Good to have all this visualized. It's all happening. It's all coming real. Time to remember how to be a human coworker. Whoo!

--JL

#256

Hm. So I got a bit tired of my own output, as I do, and have been working on slightly different breed of post. Not tossing it all off in one go, even though working long-term on a single post kinda messed me up a little last time I did it, which was already breaking the rules. Just, it was refreshing for awhile to return to the short, immediate blast. But, this is, in the end, an autobiographical blog, and though it does count--matter--qualify--earn points--whatever--to talk about what I have read since the last time I posted about what I read (which, yes, I will be doing in this post), I feel the endeavor also requires the occasional substantial longer-form tale about or around me. 

There'll be more explaining in the post itself. This isn't that post. Worked on that one for a bit but also want to do this. Don't even know what this is yet, though.

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Oh! Of course I have also been very busy, too busy, being the big department boss. Good experience so far. Learning loads.

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Anyway all I really have right now is the stuff I've been reading and watching, and perhaps the odd thought about that. My bandwidth is crunched, and that is simply that, as they say. Maybe I'll come up with something to finish strong on, who knows.

Since I last mentioned the topic--quite some silence ago now, it feels--these are the things I have read, played, and looked at. To unburden myself of any kind of strain at all beyond the minimum, I shall list them in no particular order.

A General History of Quadrupeds, by Thomas Bewick, figures engraved on wood by same, newly introduced by Yann Martel. A book of exquisite interest and beauty. I loved reading it and looking at it so much.

Billy Summers, by Stephen King. The dude still plays for fucking keeps. Amazing book. I'm not saying anything else about it except that perhaps the truth is stranger and more brutal than even the most brilliant and cutting fiction is allowed to or even could be.

Godzilla, by Stephen Molstad, a novelization of the critically shat-upon U.S. film Godzilla, directed by Roland Emmerich and co-written between him and Dean Devlin. I grabbed this at a thrift store in the northern part of the state along with many other books* and reread it eagerly. Or thought I did! The novelization of Godzilla that I read as a kid was actually Godzilla: A Novelization, by H.B Gilmour. Of these three pieces of media I will say that the superior iteration has to be the H.B. Gilmour mid-grade novel, but I very much like all three. Admittedly fraught, mismanaged, and bastardizing of itself, the '98 American foray into the mightiest of kaiju properties is comprised of underrated efforts nevertheless.

Jurassic Park and The Lost World, by Michael Crichton. I have lost track of how many times I have read these scientifically imprecise and technically outdated books, and still to this day I learn from them and am delighted by them on the reread, and am more amazed at their depth, prescience, truthfulness, and philosophical acumen. They are, for me, emblematic of what makes a classic. They are among my personally iconic duos.

Hound of the Far Side, The Far Side Observer, and The Far Side Gallery 2, by Gary Larson. Speaking of classics.

What Makes You Think You're Happy? a "Peanuts Parade Book" by Charles M. Schultz. A slim but lavishly tall and wide printing of a noble run of older Peanuts strips. The classicism appears to be relentless.

Only Yesterday, by Frederick Lewis Allen. An illuminating, incisive little history of the 1920's, written early in the thirties of that same momentously recent century, scoping the United States of America by the stats, the fads, the scandals and the dramas on the global and the individual level. Certainly a lot to think about from a timely little tome. It is the twenties, after all, and the parallels can really make one smirk and wince.  

Probably a few other comics and a book or two I'm missing. But you know, it's very difficult at the moment for me to try and grasp a reality in which that might matter.

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Notable recent watchings of photo film sequences include Lars Von Trier's The House That Jack Built, a work of art I do not feel called upon to comment on at the moment, and perhaps I never shall.

Also watched Pacific Rim. I guess I don't feel too compelled to blather about this movie either, but for very different reasons. It just sounds like a restaurant, you know? It's not a restaurant, though.

Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV was quite an achievement in many ways, though fails to grasp that magical touch Advent Children never lets go of. On its own, with no game under consideration, I feel this movie suffers badly from technology that overreaches slightly, taxes patience, and sometimes actively sucks, but ultimately rewards patience, triumphs emotionally, and excites cinematically. The hero's arc and what he has to say for himself are also interesting enough to think about closely, though I didn't believe so till very late in the game. Overall, worth required effort. 

The final installment, for the nonce, of Adventure Time: Distant Lands, Wizard City, was fabulous. 

Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, by the people who made the thing. Nick Park and the Aardman Animations. Steve Box or something. Peter Lord. The British. So good, so funny. Ralph Fiennes was in it. Ralph Fiennes is plus one thousand to everything he appears in.

More stuff, can't bear to think about it any more right now. While on the subject of the Queen's own England, though, might as well state that Ira and I have been absorbing the psyop that is The Great British Baking Show nightly. No defense.

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Played Skyrim a lot. As one does.

Also this new game Eastward I have been very much looking forward to has dropped and I got it and it is undiluted joy. Pure goodness. Ship of the fleet in the lush, surprising, gorgeous "2D" renaissance currently underway. Seriously it is so fucking goddamned orgasmically beautiful and fun. 

To cap it off, Katamari Damancy: Rerolled and Star Wars: Republic Commando and Mario Kart 8 and dipping into whatever random fancy my Switch hides within its depths. The Metroid: Dread drop approaches with extreme swiftness, and that game must be played and beaten. Soon, apparently, I shall be able to play a host of Nintendo 64 games on my machine, much as I already have access to many OG Nintendo and Super Nintendo titles as long as I'm connected to internet. The future past is constantly almost here, and I don't give a fuck if I have to pay for it the rest of my life. I grin and laugh and caper with glee as the Nintendo-logo train speeds me towards my personal oblivion. 

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This blog has been running for over three years now! This is the first post after the first collection cutoff**. The first post of the next three years. The first post of the rest of my life. G'bless, all. Happy to be typing.

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Do no harm, some say. Let me just...breathe.

--JL

*only now do I realize how many books I have acquired without ever writing them down. I suppose at some point it would be perhaps all right to post pictures of the books. Not quite yet. A vastly improved percentage of the books are shelved these days; few piles remain, but it's not quite photographable yet.

**this did not turn out to be applicable; the book became unwieldy well before this point.