Stayin' home watchin' Seven and smokin' pot a bit, hoping to cheer myself up after a long day. So fun to THINK about the relationship between the pieces of that film, to regard Mills and Somerset and Doe as archetypal figures and to play with the opposites the tale constructs itself around, setting cold, firm self-control against vice and corruption; and the desire to engage with the world, to try to make a difference, to FEEL about it against the desire to retreat, surrender, observe without passion or concern. Four poles on which my soul is sometimes stretched, and hey, it all coheres so nicely, too -- a finely crafted machine, perfectly in line with its themes (how can my friend Liz hold narrative-driven stuff in such disregard?). Kevin Spacey -- more of a figure of the director-within-the-film than Somerset, despire the closing aphorism -- even explicitly invites people to think about the "meaning" of what he is doing, to read into it. It's bravura cleverness, to be sure, and it does pat itself on the back a bit, but it's still a rich little text. Helluva term paper to be written about it, at least; if anyone out there (all three of you who might read this) actually knows if anyone has done it, pass it on to me.
Uh... what else? All the big ocean fish are almost dead. I guess I ought to give up cod -- I'll be muttering to myself as an old man about how ashamed I am to have eaten the stuff, knowing they're extinct, which is lookin' like it might be comin' up unless fishing is pretty much stopped in much of the world. I dunno -- don't tell my vegetarian friends who eat fish, tho', okay?
Some entertaining science stories to cheer you up after that here. Scroll down til you learn about herring farts. Intrusive (but I guess cute) polar bear ad may pop up, look for the X to close it.