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I didn’t think much of this new-Who spinoff when I first read about it, nor the lead after sidekicking for Christoper “Fantastic!” Eccleston (whom I always thought should’ve been cast in a better Prisoner remake), but after being impressed by some of the other new concepts on television from across the pond, e.g., the Weeping Angels, Sherlock, Karen Gillan… I ventured into the series on Netflix over the weekend, and it wasn’t until the “Children of Earth” serial-season that I was with the Internet when it went out at 3:30am. The music is loud and bombastic like a Taiwanese soap and only worsens any dramatic effect, and the ADHD-catering hour-long format makes me miss my glory days with Tom Baker’s Doctor—though to be honest, many of those stories only ran long because Sarah Jane/Leela was constantly splitting up with him and getting into some mess—but I like how they don’t pull any punches when it comes to mortality and gender relations. You’d expect some dying fighting aliens and shit, and for a guy from the 51st century to have a different attitude towards sex.

Wasn’t quite sure this one was worthy of a write-up, though the details are still quite fresh, until I saw this during my morning surf:
I was returning to my hotel room on the second floor, but for some reason the elevator required I first go to the party on the ninth, so I shared it with a young couple (much like Amy & Rory from the new Doctor Who I’ve been trying to see what the fuss is all about) on their way to the eighth. At their stop, they removed a bunch of their things from the closet behind a sliding door, and I was less startled seeing a closet behind a sliding door on an elevator than learning people actually trusted their personal belongings in it. Finally on my way back, there was a PA announcement that former governor Schwarzenegger was in the building, and as luck would have it, he and his entourage were approaching my car. He wore an oversized tan suit, with a red stain on his white shirt like movie-prop blood. They got in, and the star was huge, towering even over my 6-foot height; I shook his hand nervously and told him it was an honor, and he snickered to his bodyguard, another Teutonic giant. The “car” became a bus, and the lot of us were pressed against each other—me, in Arnold’s crotch—for the ride across the city, with armed escort readying their M-16’s at every stop. I soon decided I’d had enough of this, if not to be rid of the poor example of a family man, then to stop even him from making me feel so inadequate, and shut down the dream as I would my PC. Windows closed, applications were forced to exit and I awoke.

I’ve always been a sucker for the concept of time-traveling, more so now that I’m a dad, too, because waiting for things to change feels like watching the minute-hand of a clock. Tonight, however, I found myself focused less on the cautionary tale of 孝, however, and more on the mechanics of the “elastic band” (the analogy the product, it seems, of all those years of study) which conveniently bounces Sisko far back enough to allow the second chance. Never mind the profound effect upon father seeing his son’s life flash by like that, but why even bother with the groupie in the pointed bra? Granted three seasons later the result might be the same, but Jake had to know there’d be repercussions to their future. Couldn’t his writing have suffered? Is talent inevitable?

I close my eyes and listen and it’s 1982 again, my Aiwa cassette player accompanies my once and only future through Memorial City Mall.

The Sony’s wore like how I imagine clip-on piercings would, and crapped out like the other $20 disposables, and while I was comforted by the thicker gauge of the Apple in-ear buds, their pendulous weight is unavoidable. So if not for this nagging cough, I’d be reporting back on these Sennheisers, whose cost I justify with an unheard-of two-year manufacturer’s warranty. Cords still look flimsy, exposed as they are in a wraparound track that’s twice the size of the Nike design, but I like how its first “section” is just the right length to my upper arm, and I can do without the rest. The question remains: can I even run anymore?