Imaginary time capsule

Met the ghost of Stephen Foster at the Hotel Paradise
This is what I told him as I gazed into his eyes:
Ships were made for sinking
Whiskey made for drinking

I can't for the life of me understand why The Hound of The Baskervilles is the popular one. It's an okay story with a few exciting bits, but personally I think both The Sign of Four and The Valley of Fear are far better novels.

My pet theory is that it's connected to HOUN being the first story published after Conan Doyle killed Holmes off. Or it might have something to do with my odd tastes in stories again.

So yes, another long stroll today, walking by the wharf as darkness was falling - lovely atmosphere. When Holmes hoarsely cried out "Watson, if we can wound it WE CAN KILL IT!" I got goosebumps. No points guessing which story.

( Impromptu review and are you surprised )

There, that's the serious thoughts (are you kidding) out of the way, here's for the minor/silly observations, and even a little soundbite I uploaded:

( A reference from A Study in Scarlet? Am I dreaming? )

So that's that. I'm afraid I'll continue logging all my silly observations as I continue listening to these (frankly amazing) adaptions. At least I'll be keeping them behind cuts mostly.

Also rewatched Without A Clue, because it's a sweet parody, if a little crude at times. No one is as shocked as me at how I find Ben Kingsley viciously sexy as Watson. Is it the moustache? The frock coat? The comedy timing? I'VE NO IDEA.

Easy now no need fi go down
Just walk it gently and no break nah bone
Cool end-it-ly, you have a style of your own
Me never kno you saw ya master the saxaphone

Ah, what a brilliant day this turned out to be. Woke up in a good mood, long shower, ate breakfast watching clips of Daily Show tosses (I wasn't aware they were called tosses until last night. Already my mind has transformed the word into tossers, toss-ups, toss-offs and other puerile things. THE HEAT IS KILLING ME OKAY, I get the mind of a ten-year-old in this weather). You have no idea how funny I find corpsing. Which is why I'm watching the tosses, you see.

I then found a CD I had long thought lost, which meant I could rock to The Beatles' version of Money (that's what I want) on my way to work. I love that live rendition. I don't know when it was recorded, probably after their big break, but you can hear they've still got the attitude from their early days, when they played rock and wore leather at Der Kaiserkeller.

You know what? Here. Listen to those drums and that guitar, and the way John shouts out the lyrics. This was what the Beatles were like before the matching suits and Love me do.

It was my last day at work, somewhat melancholic. I hate saying goodbye to people. Awkward things, goodbyes. Everybody expects them to be so meaningful and worth remembering, when they're just a ritual you go through with who knows how many times in your life. Can't the time we spent together every day be the meaningful part?

Anyway, time to do some wrestling with Brownie. A trip to the vet revealed that he's got an infection in one paw - appearantly it's a common problem among rats, but it means I have to rub some antiobiotics on it twice a day. He's not too happy about the arrangement.

Oh please
Lend your little ear to my pleas
Lend a ray of cheer to my pleas
Tell me that you love me too

The weather was rubbish, so we didn't go to the Medieval Festival, instead we went to the cinema and saw the new Indiana Jones movie.

And it was a fun romp, like it should be. I can overlook a lot of blemishes watching Indiana Jones movies. All I ask for are some dusty ruins, a snake gag, Harrison Ford doing his half-grin, and some action scenes that makes you punch the air and go "hell yeah!". And it delivered, sure.

I would have liked it more if somebody had looked at the finished product and thought, "Wait - those bits doesn't make any logical sense, we need to fix that" (and I'm not talking about the scifi here). It would have been lovely if it had managed to stick to its own premises, but ah well, you can't have it all. The snake gag was pretty funny this time, that makes up for it in my eyes.

Talking about movies, I had a quick shufti through the DVD section at the library again today. There exists such a thing as an experimental low budget version of Macbeth from 1979 with Ian McKellen and Judi Dench in the cast - that's gotta be a bit brilliant, doesn't it? I didn't get that, though, I got Monkey business instead. There are days fit for a murderous dysfunctional married couple, and days where you'd rather have Groucho Marx delivering thinly veiled insults to pretty women. This day is one of the latter.

I also found a CD of some later Bing Crosby material, and it's the worst I might ever have heard of his stuff. Appearantly the songs weren't too bad (if a little bland) when they were recorded in the late fifties, but they were given the full orchestra treatment after his death and reissued, and it sounds so incredibly dull and formulaic and there's some horribly reverberation stuff going on. I can't bring myself to listen to it all.

I think I've decided when it comes to Bing, the earlier - the better. I'm still so in love with the music from when he was in The Rhythm Boys.

And just to prove it, I'll do something I never do - include a MP3-file of the greatest boyband in history (until the Beatles showed up, anyway):

The Rhythm Boys - Mississippi mud/I left my sugar standing in the rain (live)