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The weather has been very extreme lately, hasn't it? By which I don't just mean the obvious cold, though that has at times been too much even for me, and that's rare in London. I mean how on Wednesday night the moisture in the air turned each streetlight into a little sun, so bright and burning I had to keep my eyes low. I mean how yesterday from the Crouch End rail bridge, the clouds in the sky over Archway looked like the work of one of the better 18th century landscape painters. I mean how yesterday was so Victorian-ly foggy that seeing Steve 586 with a copy of From Hell under his arm at the 18 Carat Love Affair gig gave me a brief flash of genuine fright before I started grinning.
Am three episodes into the third season of Battlestar Galactica (yes, late, I know), with the brave human insurgents finding they have no other option but to launch suicide bombing campaigns against the Cylon oppressors, and the Cylons finding their good intentions fraying as they realise the humans don't want the salvation they're offering, and I'm wondering why non-genre fiction and TV so seldom manages anything this relevant. Like, when I read this fairly nothing article about how more modern fiction should be engaged with debt, I knew the guy was missing things, but I've just read the most perfect example, and it's something he's never going to read - Brubaker's The Death Of Captain America, in which the USA's crippling level of debt is part of the Red Skull's plan as surely as the assassination of Steve Rogers. Then tie in to that the debt Cap's old partners feel to him, the debt of politicians to those who paid for their campaigns...it's wonderfully done, and I say that as not that big a Brubaker fan in general. But even the sort of literary bod who's just open-minded enough to read black and white autobiographical crap and maybe even Watchmen is never going to read a Cap comic, so they'll never know.
There's a new shop opened on Stroud Green Road, with a discordant flashing red light loudly proclaiming
Acupuncture
Herbmedic
Massage
This disruptive establishment's name is Pure Harmony.
Am three episodes into the third season of Battlestar Galactica (yes, late, I know), with the brave human insurgents finding they have no other option but to launch suicide bombing campaigns against the Cylon oppressors, and the Cylons finding their good intentions fraying as they realise the humans don't want the salvation they're offering, and I'm wondering why non-genre fiction and TV so seldom manages anything this relevant. Like, when I read this fairly nothing article about how more modern fiction should be engaged with debt, I knew the guy was missing things, but I've just read the most perfect example, and it's something he's never going to read - Brubaker's The Death Of Captain America, in which the USA's crippling level of debt is part of the Red Skull's plan as surely as the assassination of Steve Rogers. Then tie in to that the debt Cap's old partners feel to him, the debt of politicians to those who paid for their campaigns...it's wonderfully done, and I say that as not that big a Brubaker fan in general. But even the sort of literary bod who's just open-minded enough to read black and white autobiographical crap and maybe even Watchmen is never going to read a Cap comic, so they'll never know.
There's a new shop opened on Stroud Green Road, with a discordant flashing red light loudly proclaiming
Acupuncture
Herbmedic
Massage
This disruptive establishment's name is Pure Harmony.
