윤

[Title and meme from this new track for old people like us.] Actually, I’m quite enjoying my daily visits to the am/pm down the street, where I would stop on my way to work 9-10 years ago for that refill of crunch ice and Mountain Dew on dispenser lines that must be corroded with just the right chemical buildup it’s borderline toxic and intoxicating. The rewards app helps, and I can’t help be amused that I’m charged 3¢ for tax on my free drink.

I don’t think the folks at Arrow really did much to improve the picture quality over the early 2000’s Celestial remaster of the abominable HK cut, whose nonsensical editing (like that whole minute of Taiwanese schoolkids to close out the movie) makes me glad that at least with respect to co-existing versions of Chinatown Kid, we grew up in the right timeline. Dedicated commentary, too, but I’m still baffled where the 13 Gigs went… I suppose that’s me being cheap with storage, hung up on an age when you had only 90 minutes for the good recording speed on L-750 tapes. No explanation for that “Yeah, great kungfu” delivery, either, even after reviewing the dubbing in Mandarin. And I wasn’t sure if I had called this out in the past, but the Porsche badges on those San Francisco cops who scare off one of Fu Sheng’s fights ominously foreshadow his own death.

A mainstay in my 5-disc changer, the one into which I painstakingly keyed so many titles for it to display throughout the early 90’s. Talk about life’s labor lost, I wonder if its onboard memory preserved them, or like my 100% Super Metroid save, they’re all but digital ghosts in broken-down machines, the precarious memories of yet another who is himself fast approaching the same state.

Miserable start to this anniversary of that heinous revolt: I dreamed Six o’ One Patrick McGoohan and I were on the run and had only a small guardhouse to pass, so I let the champ sneak in and do his thing—only to find that he failed and was being held by a group of ruffians; it was Wild Wild James West who never lost a fight, after all. Their leader approached me with all the swagger his entourage afforded him and effortlessly caught my fist, mocking me. If only I could muster the strength to challenge his grip, but it would take longer than I had left, more confidence in myself to reign in my insecurities. Incompetent leadership at work got to me and my run didn’t make up for it, but by the end of the day I was chuckling at the sodium warning on Taco Bell’s new limited-time Crispy Chicken Wings (seasoned with “Mexican Queso”, for future reference).Napped during lunch and saw a passenger jet whose pilot the news said had successfully regained control of it to land intact; was more of a vertical drop out of the sky onto the runway in the near distance, but it didn’t go perfectly: as I looked closer, the plane’s body began twitching, as if it were going to explode. There were two young girls beside me and I pushed them to take cover from the blast behind a parked American sedan while the building wall kept me safe.

It was time for a spin-off as Grady accepted a job at Rolls-Royce in England and was splitting up the gang or introducing new cast members who would join him. My blonde fiancée Laura and I were among them, but one of the remaining team, an otherwise awkward White fellow who looked like the bumbling police officer on Monk, took me to the side and professed his love, reaching his hand under my shirt and around my waist. I backed off and reminded him of my impending marital status, then began packing my things, which consisted only of two pairs of pants and a Black short-sleeved shirt. He didn’t give up, however, kneeling to my side and producing a ring. The episode ended with a joke about policemen being there for us, then a few of them sitting down to eat in a dining room that was completely empty; the audience applauded, I grabbed my things and hurried off the set to meet with the others at the airport.

I couldn’t remember how substantive a role Mie Hama had in the spy flick Woody Allen dubbed, so I unearthed the DVD—the problem with P2P is that you rely on someone else out there catering to your nostalgia, and mine is ever-so extemporaneous. The 鍵の鍵 original may require patronizing a shady bootlegger, it’s even harder to come by, but honestly, apart from the two Bond girls and a guest appearance by Dr. Who himself as a snake handling henchman, the other entries in the series looked more exciting from the introduction.