From This Moment Into Infinity...

I get this feeling whenever I read science-fiction, or watch a science-fiction film, that I am looking into the inner workings of my own humanity. This feeling much resembles looking at one's toes and raising one's gaze till it meets the horizon. There's this intense draw when you see the beyond, especially when your aware of your own position in relation.

My imaginings in this genre have always taken me to the edges of known perception and driven questions out of me that aren't easily, or usually, driven. It's as if I can zoom from views of nuclear particles out to the greatest distances of the edges of the known universe and back again. In this journey of realization not only am I able to see the shapes, forms, and substances for what they truly are, I am also capable of greater imagining with questions that look for what is not seen between the layers of existence. Raised in a world of darkness would we think to question the absence of light?

Such a speculative and often dismissed genre, science-fiction provides a vehicle like no other which deepens the potential and possibility for present and future discovery. If we do not ask of the absence how shall we react when we are made aware of the presence?

I have always been a fan of this section of fiction and, for as far distant as I can figure, I will always be. Looking beyond the simplistic, silliness of certain lighter levels of the genre, into the heart of the questions its greatest writers and works ask, I can see the whole of our potential. That is a truly splendid thing indeed.

Moon

Tonight I watched a film I've had my eye on since long before its official release. "Moon," directed by Duncan Jones and starring Sam Rockwell, is one of the best, most human science-fiction films I've seen.

For those who have seen Douglas Trumbull's "Silent Running," and those who have read Isaac Asimov's "I, Robot," there is much in this film to draw comparisons with. I won't go into enough detail to spoil the plot but I will say that the questions of ethics that arise and the feeling one get's for the society the character exists apart from really pull at one's interest and challenge personal philosophies.

It's a fantastic drama about personal revelation, existence, and what's make a human a human. I would highly recommend this film to any who are interested in a great story that deals with the previously mentioned themes and who enjoy such in a wonderful science-fiction setting.

Humanity, Oh, Humanity...

I felt a genuine disgust this weekend while experiencing something for the first time. After attending a send off for one of the few tolerable co-workers I know, and drinking copious amounts of bitter, my wife, myself, and my friend with his wife all decided to go inspect the local exotic night club.

I have not, in my entire life, been to a strip club, and after having been subjected to one I can honestly say that I will not, for any reason, enter one again. It's a pit of repulsive humanity where the breathing's hard, the feigned sexuality is desperate, and there's a general confusion as to the setting of any known social boundaries. Despicable can't even begin to compound effectively enough with the adjectives of dislike I have in mind for such a place.

The girls, for though they appear women most are in fact girls, are sad. It's a sadness that makes you want to give them money, whether or not you are in fact enticed, if possible, by their meek attempts to wobble around like "Sex-clowns" on a gaudy, festively lit stage.

I love women and can not see myself finding anything more attractive about humanity than the natural personalities and physical forms of women. My wife is an icon of lust for me, to be less than private about such powerfully primal emotions, but I can't see anything possibly attractive in women who behave with a foul, vaudevillian manner that mocks their inherent sexiness.

The point is that no matter how demanding the base crowd of hard panting monkeys in over-sized polyester sports clothing are, women shouldn't lower themselves in such a way, and any who respect the attractiveness of the female should avoid such places, no matter how intoxicated one becomes or how daring their sense of humor convinces them it can be.

Some uncommon thoughts over an artistic ale, at the computer of Sunday night's closing. Adieu.

At home in death...

The shadow of life, a parallel, a mere world, forever untouchable.

We but slip between realities, perceptions. I am not as stable as I seem.

Tomorrow not coming is an event for which we must always prepare, however consciously we do. A misstep or a sudden seizing up of once functioning organs could bring a close of the grand curtain.

I intend on lingering long after the physical form is dust. Let my shade hang about, a loiterer in forbidden lands. I'd be the cold in the dim room, the smell of old life that wanders past for a moment, or the blur in the occasional photo.

Die? Not soon I hope, though I've got my plans.

Ponds and their mystery...

A curious thing, a pond. The most curious are those which seem to come from nowhere but are there all the same. They can lead to enchantment, or they can lead to doom. Are they doors, or are they windows?

I'm writing a story now based on tales told to me by my grandparents about ponds. One pond in particular that does not actually exist except for within my imagining mind. It's horrific what happens in regard to this pond, but I'm not certain if it's a horror of lurking bestial ferocity or a horror of dreadful bewitchment. In deciding this I am able to dispense with boundaries and have some real fun. Where will that pond lead?

In writing this I'm having a bear of a time trying to stretch the variables of my current vocabulary. In my attempt to find synonyms for pond and water I've discovered quite a challenge. How to vary my words so as not to annoy the mindful reader with monotony and ghastly repetition. How, indeed.

I shall post what I can, when I can. As for the finished product, I am hoping to use this as one of my attempts at selling a finished writing piece. Here's hoping. Perhaps one day I'll be able to write full time and commit myself to your entertainment, dear reader. Perhaps.

Until I make it as a professional, if ever, I will gladly update you with my current progress.

Until next time, may the days be kind.

Doctor Who, from childhood to present...

My Uncle Adam has been an incredible influence on my life. Through him I've been introduced to masterful music from centuries past, brilliant, sophisticated British comedy, titanic films, enchanting novels, and the best of classic Science-Fiction.

The one item he injected into my life, from my very early childhood when my sister and I would spend our days at our grandparent's house, he a teenager, myself around three or four, and my sister a year or two younger, was the sensational series Doctor Who. I have so many fond memories of all those quirky, heroic British men running around in their unique garb, besting the terrors of the universe. The sound of the TARDIS materializing is almost as old for me as the sound of my mother's voice, no exaggeration there. Together we'd watch William Hartnell, the old gentleman renegade from Gallifrey, and granddaughter Susan, Patrick Troughton with his entertaining, slightly mad take on the great Timelord, John Pertwee with his action packed, mostly Earthbound, Doctor, the unforgettable Tom Baker with flowing scarf and beaming grin, Peter Davison with celery and cricket clothes, Colin Baker and his loud outfit, and even Sylvester McCoy with the adorable Ace, and their much too zany adventures. In the first few years of my life I was privileged enough to see what most British folk saw over the span of twenty odd years.

Then we come to the present. As soon as talk arose of the new series, in the early, early years of the 21st Century, I had found something related to Doctor Who to thrill over again, though with great caution until I could sample the first story and see what's become of the old man and his box. This was a natural hesitancy due to the bastard of a job Fox did with Paul McGann's unfortunate, though for the character himself, entertaining Doctor. When it finally did air I scrabbled to see it which I did after a few months, though not being in Britain this was a considerable feat. Christopher Eccleston wasn't bad, but the feel of the show was different. Here was a Doctor that had lost a bit of his early joy, being much more rough, after losing his people to an age old enemy, the Daleks. His look was strikingly different compared to the actors before him, and his behavior took a while to grow on me. I kept up with the series seeing what there was for the future, if the show had one. Eccleston bowed out early, taking with him another slot in the Doctor's thirteen regeneration cycles. This caused some panic because the show was just starting up again and here we've lost another Doctor. Then came David Tennant. In his tenure on the series David Tennant managed to not only capture the character, and pay fantastic homage to the previous actors, but to also take the universe of Doctor Who to new heights. I've not seen an actor pull in as much new interest in a series as Tennant did in his time. As amazing as his Doctor was to watch, with his wit, classy attire, and chemistry with the peoples he encountered, it was that hard to watch him go, but sadly he did.

Now we're in the midst of the Fifth Series, our Doctor now is the remarkable Matt Smith, decked in tweed coat and bow tie, and the series charges on. Smith's Doctor has not only made up for the mournful departure of David Tennant, but has taken the show in yet another incredible direction, making the role of spectator even more exciting. So now, every Saturday night, my wife and I gratefully continue to watch the ever magnificent adventures of the great Doctor Who.

The X-Files, a show close to heart...

Weird is a word I would use to describe a great many things which also happen to be things I hold great affinity towards. Any movies, shows, books, periodicals, etc. that cover the weird or utilize it for entertaining story telling, are the ones I enjoy the most. Nothing has been more a pleasure to follow, for me at least, as the X-Files.

The X-Files was (boy do I hate referring to it in the past tense) a show that inspired me, entertained me, and fueled my imagination like a fusion generator might a city. The creatures featured, the stories told, and the memorable characters drove this one home and kept it deliciously rich up till the end. With the exception of Doctor Who, this show has been the greatest science-fiction show in history.

Not only did I geek out on the show, I followed it into other media such as gaming, another close to heart pursuit. The X-Files Collectible Card Game, from the US Playing Card Company, was, next to Magic the Gathering, one of the card games I collected the most and played as much as possible. It was brilliant and short lived, unfortunately.

All in all, it's things like the X-Files that get me revved up for discussion and imagining. I could go on for hours about the show and all it meant to me, but I think that this little post will suffice. Although, if you're ever looking to discuss X-Files you now know who to find.