I watched Wonder Boys on DVD last night. It was ex…
I watched Wonder Boys on DVD last night. It was excellent. A great cast, great acting, and a solid story. Quite impressive, especially if you’re into writing or are thinking about it.
Afterwards, as I was discovering that, not only had my bathroom light burnt out and that there was no hot water, I heard siren after siren wailing outside. I looked out my window to find that one of the buildings across the park from me was on fire, and several firetrucks lined Heping E. Road with their cranes aloft. I didn’t see any actual flames, mind you, but there was enough smoke to make me reasonably sure something was burning.
For some reason the lightbulbs in our bathroom at work are also prone to exploding, showering the area with grenade-like shards of blackened glass. I’ve pointed this out to some members of upper management, so you’d think they’d be interested in solving this problem, but I saw the aftermath of yet another such explosion on the shelf above the urinals today. Perhaps they’re just waiting for someone to witness one first hand. Someone reliable, that is. I don’t count, obviously. Seems I’m far too emotional about these things to properly describe the sensation of having a light bulb explode right above one’s head.
I’ve been thinking about getting a Powerbook instead of one laptop computer for writing away from home and one Mac just for editing. There’s no way I could afford both. There’s probably no way I could afford a Powerbook, but it’s a more realistic goal at least. I should be careful not to let the lack of these fancy toys become excuses not to work on projects I should be working on, however.
I was at an ATM the other day behind a primly dressed woman who was making a long series of complicated transactions. She was all set up for her banking day. Several stacks of documents were arranged on the shelf of the machine, each with its own card, and she had even bought a bottle of water, which she placed on the ledge next to the machine. Periodically she would take a sip, and then return to what seemed like the financial management of a major money-laundering organization for several triads spread throughout the Asia-pacific region.
Having nothing better to do and reluctant to miss the show, I found a table nearby and watched as she plowed through piles of documents, inputting scores of long serial numbers. If I had a notepad I could have caught them all and written them down. It took her about half an hour to finish. I’ve noticed that women seem to do a lot more of this kind of complicated ATM-based financial management, whereas men seem to just take out some cash. My management of finances is restricted to stuffing receipts into my pocket so that I can play the receipt lottery held here every two months.
And now, for no particular reason, here is a picture of gendoyun with its new coat of paint.
