...against all the fates conspiring against me, for I have successfully watched, after all these months of waiting...
1. Lost 2x00[Special Recap]- Destination Lost
2. Lost 2x01- Man of Science, Man of Faith
3. Lost 2x02- Adrift
4. Lost 2x03- Orientation
5. Lost 2x04- Everybody Hates Hugo
6. Lost 2x05- ...And Found
7. Lost 2x06- Abandoned
8. Lost 2x07- The other 48 days
9. Lost 2x08- Collision
10. Lost 2x09- What Kate Did
LOST Complete Season 2 HDTV rips finished downloading on office laptop. Used office laptop since presumed that personal laptop required converter to plug into Finnish power supply.
Need codec installed before can start marathon episode viewing session, and conspicuous absence of administrator rights on office laptop prevent codec installation.
Found way to make do without Finnish power supply converter to run personal HP laptop, gross oversight prevented prior unplugging of existing office IBM laptop adapter and plugging in HP laptop adapter to finnish power cord, to make everything in the garden lovely.
Codec already installed on HP laptop, but as direct result of Highlight 1, all episodes of LOST stuck on office laptop. Unearthed laptop to laptop transfer cable, and discovered office IBM laptop keyboard still screwed with function key problem, as a result unable to unlock office computer at home, since password is spewed out as complete gibberish.
Plug in additional keyboard to IBM laptop at office, and keyboard issues resolved. ( Which happens to be extremely stupid, but have no patience to get IBM laptop fixed at service point, so on agenda for later) Discover life saver in the form of 2 GB pen drive stashed away carefully in purse, and…
Feel even more stupid copying episodes to the drive in office, to transport for evening viewing at home, since carrying two laptops to office is being labeled uniquely insane in public eye, as equally as is carrying extra keyboard with office laptop back home. Icing on the cake is that have to first delete stuff from the drive, cherry topping on the icing on the cake is that IBM laptop does not have an enhanced USB host controller to support Hi-speed USB 2.0 device. As a consequence, drive functions at 12Mbps instead of 480Mbps :( Enabling would obviously mean more clamouring for admin rights which, as previously mentioned, are absent. If fortune improves in future, must check out this
After-note: Ugh! Who said that crossovers were only a part of the The Mythology of Lost?
Bonus Track:Highlight and Outrage off the record and logical flow of things:
Unrelated Highlight Extra:
Clicking off pictures with reckless abandon as can be seen in previous post, courtesy new Sony Cybershot T5.
Unrelated Outrage Extra:
Mislaid neat camera case in the processes, most presumably, somewhere in Tampere lake.
Unrelated Highlight Extra + 1:
Managed to make it to office in well synchronized time ( for team coffee break, candy consumption on birthday occasion of team member, trip to stationary and scheduled meeting at 9 am.)
Unrelated Outrage Extra + 1:
Disembark from bus to find have left ID badge and access card ensconed safely at home closet. Decide to call cubie neigbour to beam me in into restricted area, only to discover cellphone is recipient of similar safekeeping measures as ID Badge and access card.
Only silver lining, but definitely not in this cloud: Finished downloading the Coen brother's “O Brother where are thou?” and “Barton Fink” on safe and reliable personal HP laptop.
Tangential rant: Dining out at Indian restaurant previous night left self in no mood to cook lunch, so presently starving, due to weird breakfast of scrambled eggs and yoghurt. Checking out communal table for left over birthday candy may be advisable.
On the walk home this time from office, took pictures of the city. My fingers were almost freezing, thanks to the slight rain this place is occasionally blessed with, and the 5 deg C temperature.
This is the Tampere lakeside, flanked by the paper factory beyond.
Opposite to the main city bus station of Keskustorin, the city centre. Different POVs of the same, this one is from across the road and near the bus station.
And this one is nearer the theatre, and closer to the heart of the centre.
The Keskustorin bus station, the heart of the city...( See more pictures of Tampere...Collapse )
Layer cherries and sugar one on the other in a wide-mouthed glass jar, covering each layer gradually with spirit - kircsh is the best, but you can use vodka or even armagnac - up to half the jar's capacity. Top it with spirit and wait. Every month, turn the jar carefully to release any accumulated sugar. In three year's time the spirit has bled the cherries white, staining itself deep red, penetrating even to the stone and the tiny almond inside it, becoming pungent, evocative, a sense of the autumn past. Serve in tiny liqueur glasses, with a spoon to scoop out the cherry, and leave it in the mouth until the macerated fruit dissolves under the tongue. Pierce the stone with the point of a tooth to release the liqueur trapped inside and leave it for a long time in the mouth, playing it with the tip of the tongue, rolling it under, over, like a single prayer bead. Try to remember the time of it's ripening, that summer, that hot autumn, the time the well ran dry, the time we had the wasp's nests, time past, lost, found again in the hard place at the heart of the fruit.
--Five Quarters of the Orange, Joanne Harris
Well, so my laptop is defunct until I find a converter so I can plug it into the Finnish power supply. Which, has been something I have been trying to find since Monday. The tourist information centre supplies me with umpteen maps and little else. So, I have found, instead, the Tampere City Library. Totally surrounded by berry bushes, its ash colored dome rises just around the corner of my apartment. My feet were killing me yesterday, as I tried to find the entrance. A lady emerged from a staff exit, wedging a block of wood at the door, but giving no indication of where the main entry might be. I seemed to have gone around the whole building and there was no sign of an entrance of any sort. Then, finally, a kid descending a ramp, leading to an entrance opening on to a totally new stretch of road. As I walk inside, among rows of Scandinavian literature, through the huge glass windows, I spot the very same berry bushes, swaying slightly in the mid afternoon breeze. I pick up “Five Quarters of the Orange” by Joanne Harris, Elmore Leonard´s “Get Shorty” and “The Hungry Tide” by Amitav Ghosh, walk to the seating area and watch dusk slowly creep up on the berry bushes. I had dissected a bright red berry the very day I had berry quark for dessert at lunch. It concealed small yellow velvety pods that split out into the road and blew away into the ubiquitous breeze before I could glean anything further.( See the Berry Trees and the LibraryCollapse )
Only the other day, managed to wedge heel of shoe in particularly nasty ditch while unsuccessfully trying to hail most obvious means of public transport. Flat mate dreads marriage, and keep mishearing everything said as having disturbed dreams at deep psychological level. Have hidden bushel of apples at foot of bed so very well, that discovery occurs only after having spent two painful nights yearning for bright red apples. Speakers catch dust and divert gaze sadly at them before dropping off to sleep, as gaze also envelops many other things to be left behind.
Heading to work, the phrase, “logical end” haunts waking working hours. Sometimes think have almost hit upon solution, and something comes up which makes end too illogical. Dream of enormous bucket of water slowly tipping until covered in glorious torrent. Aforementioned might have something to do with fact that was actually recipient of such a torrent not so very many days ago. Fantasize about triumphantly stamping out somber procession of red ants on floor. And of voicing contempt towards all brainless creatures, the cow, the suicidal moth, the red ant. Want to scream more at smug house-maid, who is queenly in own right, even has precise job description carefully chalked out with shocking business acumen.
Hate moving. Hate the smell of wet cardboard boxes and cobwebs and dust in the loft. Hate taking down neatly arranged books and piling them into unmentionable huge sized monstrosity. And DVD writer threatens to kick the bucket. Ah, but make wonderful coffee. This more than compensates for daily measly and routine breakfast.
Evacuation drill at office today in response to mock fire alarm. Stay persistently glued to seat until security personnel sprout up and turn gruff with people in yonder cubicle immersed in super-serious client call. Resign to fate and walk slowly and sulkily towards exit. Spot person in flaming red and yellow cap ushering crowd with mock urgent pitch in voice. Veer clear off him to sweet staircase of escape. Uh oh, his twin guards head of stairs. Rooted for split second as first flamer ominously heads in similar direction. Break into run to left, and right in front looms rest room. Make a dash for the same and remain locked inside for whole five minutes until hullabaloo seems to have momentarily subsided. Move like shadow hugging clammy wall, and promptly bump into flamer number 2, who sternly insists on acting as escort till main exit.
Exit from main exit, in turn guarded by two stalwarts who politely turn back any deadline freaks aspiring to make a beeline back to cubes. After stepping into mid-afternoon sun, approached by perky acquaintance in brown and yellow psychedelic T-shirt. Must have looked supremely sad and forlorn, for acquaintance looked over shoulder to see if had actually braved near-torching and flames. Took similar peek over own shoulder. Stalwarts seemed distracted. Good. Disappeared down winding path leading to basement car park only to find lift turned off. Spot mysterious staircase leading to familiar wing. Discovered access card defunct at hitherto undiscovered door leading to aforementioned familiar wing. Retrace steps to door with umpteen flamers having their backs to the same. Take deep breath. Execute to perfection thoroughly practiced stealthy step. Retreat to darkness of god-sent corner just as questionable individual makes obnoxious presence known. Sprint up discarded stairway and finally spot door to own cube. Static from walkie-talkie followed by blood curdling baritone wafts down sending chills down already strained spine. Leap across to door in split second and greeted by characteristic chill of wing air conditioner. Walk triumphantly back to desk and resume thoughtful meditation.
Things assume hazy proportions. Proportionately assuming Zen state. Finally rained, undoubtedly turning roads to muck.
Displaced - Hanne Hukkelberg : A fresh, fresh piece from a Nowegian artist whose music has described as "windswept eccentric pop meets dusty jazz."
The Fat Lady of Limbourg - Shivaree : This a band I have been stalking ever since I heard "Goodnight Moon" on the Kill Bill 2 OST. Ambrosia Parsley flourishes, as usual on this track.
Scream - Berlin : This, the very band of the "Take my breath away" fame with an the explicit version of the song from the album 4play.
Wordless May - Venus Hum : An interweaving of a wide range of interesting electronica speak the words of wordless may. For the record, the band happens to derive it's name from a rare heart condition of instrumentalist Tony Miracle, due to which he perpetually hears his own hearbeat in his ears.
Cloudbusting - Kate Bush : This song, by one of the Prog rock movement's most promising children, is one of her uniquely erudite and literary sourced songs, about the "cloudbuster" machine, developed to control the weather by Freudian psychoanalyst Wilhelm Reich.
Have you got it in you? - Imogen Heap : Again, a nice english lady heralded of the league of Kate Bush. This song has the vocals backed with a most curious interplay of ethereal voices, interspersed with soft chimes.
Sunrise - Petra Haden : From American violinist cum vocalist of an impressive heritage, sunrise has the soothing background of many layered voices, like many of her songs.
Playboy Mommy - Tori Amos : Tori Amos sticks in my mind since the days of religious channel [V] watching, from when I remember watching and rewatching the remarkable video of "I could never be your woman". This song, is about Amos dealing with an unfortunate miscarriage.
I Am Eating Your Deathly Dreams - Larkin Grimm : A tad eerie, a tad harmonious and lifting bit of rendition, a melancholy sadness prevails, sporadic riffs emerge, the lonely voice reiterates "Don't talk to me" in what I feel like best describing as the pathos I remember feeling for the Little Mermaid's tale.
Only you - Portishead : In this live version of the song, the Jazz influences of the British band and Beth Gibbons vocals come out nice and strong.
Having this major week, where lots of things are cracking me up bigtime :D...In fact, I can recall all of last week as bouts of loud hysterical laughter, sniggering fits, and major phases of ROTFLs. Some of many responsible revisitations included the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, mentioned in a parody of the King James Version of the Holy Bible:
"...And Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying, "O Lord, bless this, Thy hand grenade, that with it, Thou mayest blow Thine enemies to tiny bits... in Thy mercy." And the Lord did grin, and the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths and carp and anchovies and orangutans and breakfast cereals, and fruit bats and large chu... And the Lord spake, saying, "First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then, shalt thou count to three. No more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in My sight, shall snuff it." Amen."
--Book of Armaments (Chapter 2, verses 9-21)
Was going through some old stuff, and came across the Hanlon's Razor:
"Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity."
This never fails to crack me up.
Talking about more amusing stuff, was reading up today on the usages of MacGuffins in films, and the conclusion that that porn movie plots would probably be the ones using them in the most widespread manner is priceless, to say the least :)
The two blue streaks parted and joined in rhythmic fashion, and alternated with red and yellow streaks doing the same, all in perfect synchronization, and all these streaks towered all the way above him. A criss-cross of gloomy green rubber cords passed overhead, and feeling some wet mass congeal itself into a rigid monstrosity on his forehead within the span of mere seconds, he moved out of the warpath of whatever that stuff was and was meant to do. Stepping over freshly warm and delicate pink somethings that looked like the underside of a cow, gave him a start, and he sincerely wished he was not barefooted.
Then he spotted it. ( What happened next...Collapse )