Thursday, February 11 2010
I spent most of the day helping nursemaid a website migration onto its new host. What I'd done had essentially been a copy, which should have been as easy as getting some tunes onto an iPod. But because I was working with archaic Microsoft and ColdFusion technologies, it had ended up being a huge time swamp. Every now and then I'd go outside and shovel snow just to break the monotony of it all, even though there was hardly any snow to shovel. We'd only gotten about two inches yesterday, and much of that had already melted, sublimated, compacted, or blown away.
Speaking of time swamps, this evening Gretchen and I began watching the long single episode that began the reimagined Battlestar Galactica series (circa 2003). This was on the recommendation of our photogenic Buddhist vegan friends on Zena Road. My expectations were kind of low, and it took awhile for me to warm up to it, but gradually I found myself caring about what the characters were doing and admiring the refreshing take on space opera. Particularly impressive was the restraint in depicting battle scenes, which in most other forms of entertainment is presented as a kind of prolonged violent pornography. Other observations: there was a surprising amount of sexual content given the earthless context. And the use of handheld cameras (even in scenes supposedly shot from the vacuum of space) gave a welcomed visceral immediacy. Best of all, Battlestar Galactica was genuinely creepy and psychological, aspects I've come to demand of my drama. Nevertheless, we could only watch an hour and a half of it before we had to stop so we could go on with out lives. But we'll be coming back to watch more later.
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