Last night Sarafina and I ordered a metric fuckload of sushi, and played Nintendo. Guess what? I actually still have some game on a classic Nintendo controller. This reverses last week's disappointment when I tried to play Super Mario 3 on the Wii and failed utterly. Turns out, the Wiimote is just a really, really shitty approximation of the classic controller. All the sense memory was gone. Back on the original system, my fingers knew what they were doing long before my brain even had to get involved. There's a metaphor in there somewhere, but I'm too tired and stinky to figure it out right now. I feel like Han Solo, what with the boots and sense of malcontent. I could do with a long, hot shower.

Three days after the Warner Brothers announcement, I have to work actively hard not to refer to the other side of the war as "chumps." That's the problem with this dog-ugly war: it has turned home theatre enthusiasts into a bunch of smug pricks on par with, or possibly even smugly prickier, than Mac addicts. I do not want this! The Digital Bits is largely unreadable now, what with Bill Hunt having turned into such a miserable, conceited fascist. I just want some nice programming and a hot cup of cocoa. I want Serenity and King Kong in Blu-Ray. I don't want a fucking subculture to grow out of this thing. If you're all into home theatre now, are you even a movie fan at all? Is it just technophilia in a demi-aesthetic cloak? If you had a really pretty Blu-Ray test pattern would you be just as happy as if you had Star Wars?

Two Star Wars refs in a single post. I'm backsliding. That's it: I'm going home and throwing out all my toys.

Incidentally, there is a small piece of my soul missing, and it is in a very good place. Otherwise, I am finding the season physically challenging as per the usual. My chest is tight. I haven't been to yoga in a damn long time. It's going to be fifteen degrees or thereabouts in Toronto tomorrow and if so, I am certainly going for a bike ride even if I have to do so after dark. In the meantime I've gotta do something to break out of the crusty shell of scar tissue and stale air that currently surrounds me. I could do with a nice breeze.

"It was the tension between these two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going." - The Rum Diary