You may think I’ve been ignoring you, gentle reader, but the truth of the matter is that I have been ignoring you. I’m not sure why it’s so hard to stick to Highway Updated–the standard procedure is to update, to update half-heartedly, and then to stop for a good long while, effectively swerving off the Highway into a morass of neglect.
Fortunately for me, it’s a proven fact that everyone loves neglect. I originally wanted to reminisce about things that never actually happened, but I think your time would be better spent on something else. Paycheck time is fast approaching, so here are a few things that might help you fill your Poor01k.
Gabriel Márquez won the Nobel Prize in the 1980’s for his fiction. I’d like to quote a snippet from One Hundred Years of Solitude that proves why this book is so important. “It was around that time that Fernanda got the impression that the house was filling up with elves. It was as if things, especially those for everyday use, had developed a faculty for changing location on their own.” That’s from page 388 of the Perennial Classics edition. I bet Gabe wishes those italics were his. And I wish I had a Nobel Prize.
There’s something inexplicably charming and polished about Solitude, and I definitely had the same fuzzy feeling after finishing Beyond Good & Evil. There are a few trite moments, to be sure, but the yarn was spun well enough, the controls felt just right, the music fit the game, and it looked real purty as well. Unfortunately, this game garnered the dubious honor of being one of the fastest price drops in geek history. $49.99 to $19.99 in six weeks flat, or so I’ve heard, and to prevent the developers from going $19.99 to screwed I suggest you pick up a copy right now. Heck, pick up three copies for the fam.
If you’re feeling really dorky, you might want to check out Tron 2.0. This is another underappreciated title that clocks in at $19.99. You can also pick up the strategy guide for a mere penny at your local Best Buy, so the game and the guide will cost you what? Two weeks’ salary? I’m playing through the game for a second time now, partly because it’s fun and partly because it runs so smoothly on my crappy computer. My old hag is barely chugging along now, and I occasionally have to stick pieces of gum through the vents to make the thing run. If I want “mad” performance, all I have to do is insert a piece of beef in the DVD-ROM drive. Hurrah!
Tonight was one of most chillingly windy days in recent memory, gentle reader, and I just knew that the person who invented the word “blustery” probably did so on a similar night and promptly blew away. Neatfreak was born on this day twenty-three years ago, so four of us wheeled over to this hole in the wall for some fun anecdotes and tasty cuisine.
With every conceivable element of surprise ruined, this birthday outing could have ended in a spot of cynicism and bad luck. It’d be like following a rainbow in hopes of finding a pot o’ gold, only to discover a greedy leprechaun who had suff o’ cated in a vat of nacho cheese. And I think the Simile Factory just erupted in flames.
What’s important is that the dinner went well, and we stayed long after the restaurant shut its doors. Most of the patrons filed out, the food went back to the kitchen, and the waitresses sat down to a hearty meal of–guess what?–noodles and wine. It was a fine night, the kind that makes one want to list off significant states before devolving into a primal scream.
When I was a wee lad, gentle reader, I took it upon myself to share the joys of art. Fine literature and dance, sculpture and music–these are cornerstones of a life well rounded. My grassroots crusade began in the English moors on a misty morning much like this one.
I was in preschool, and snack time had ended in tears. Whose tears? My tears. The other children had gobbled up all the crumpets and then some, leaving me naught but a few drops of tea. With sad eyes and an empty tummy, I turned passionately to literature and found, much to my delight, a wonderful book of stories. The weighty tome promised a grand survey of powerful leaders, double dealings, starlit fields, magic, and the uncertainty of modern culture.
I held the book gently, savoring the smell of the genuine leather hardcover. And then I turned to the nearest snot-nosed kid and helped clean out his nose–with the book. Wham! Retribution and crumpet crumbs were mine in an instant, and I had yet to read the preface. I promptly moved on to bigger and better things, such as sharing my appreciation of literature with my other classmates.
To this day I support the arts, and Secondhand Rants makes sure that artists become poor, starving artists. We take and take and give nothing back to the community except for shameless advertisements. That’s right, dear readers! One-Woman Times is back, and she’s rubbing elbows with Buenos Aires’ finest. She’s also doing a little journalism on the side. I’m not really sure how to get to “Buenos Aires”–does the place even exist?–but I have it on good authority that walking north is the wisest thing to do. Whose authority? My authority.