윤

Abed Nadir was behind the wheel of a 90’s ricer, which he drove us (myself and at least two others—I’d like to think Annie Edison was in the back seat with me) wildly through town, not sure any landmarks were there to recognize but I’m remembering Long Beach, because, he explained, he could only go for as long as he kept it “cool.” The word on an LED where the radio would be confirmed his status, but it disappeared when his breakneck charge relented, and walls of multi-colored spikes rose up before us to hinder any progress, following his desperate right turns. Eventually he realized the game was over and stopped the car, and we stepped out onto the broken pavement in the low light before dawn.

Thursday night we “took advantage” of Disneyland’s failure to scan our third and last ticket use, so we went in for another miserable wonderful few hours, most of them spent in line for annual passes for the family fan and her companion; it was finally our turn for the next window, and a Black fellow about a foot taller than me whose name tag read ERIN, Grand Marshall, demonstrated a glaring breach of queue etiquette by pulling us to continue waiting at newly-opened kiosks on the other side, behind at least four more groups of people. I held myself back from going Larry David on him for fear of getting us banned from the park for life, at least until our transaction was settled, but by then they stopped accepting customers, and I just wanted out of there.

The next night when the boy got the first of what’s sure to be a lifetime of stitches, his ER doctor was the almost too-good-to-be-true-sounding Erin Prince, M.D. And so conscious was I of this coincidence going into my slumber Sunday, I dreamed of being reunited with old 大姐 Ellen (close enough) Liao.

My sad long weekend came to a close with Yahoo! Screen’s Other Space, which I can’t tell is meant to be centered around the MST3K reunion or Milana Vayntrub’s tight uniform, but either way isn’t sustaining the programming once Community’s done, not with jokes like this, where the robot doesn’t get Karen’s name right:

My last weekend with YouTube on the AppleTV (fuck Google for ending support over ads; the Yahoo! Screen app still airs Community without them) I spent browsing some montages of battle sequences from 宇宙戦艦ヤマト and Battlestar Galactica, and I realized it was from the latter that Man of Steel borrowed its cinematography. Later that night I sat through one of the bad alien episodes of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea and noticed on a commercial for Gilligan’s Island that Dawn Wells looked quite a bit like Jenna-Louise Coleman:

Three dreams last night: the first I had a clear memory of when I woke at 3am, having resumed my slumber after getting off X’s floor, but lost since; the second took place in first-person MMO (perhaps in anticipation of GW2’s imminent perspective changes), where a sizeable group of my fellow players were exploring a new area and had come upon a map under a covered open structure, like a bus stop. I was impressed that approaching it, the details became more visible. An event alert appeared above us indicating the direction to a boss named DIM, and we followed it to a catapult. The idea was to use it on ourselves (or respective avatars) to traverse some distance gap, but I was more interested by its design: little more than a black version of the Lego prop that came in X’s Batman set, with a single additional crank, which when turned once would generate enough force to launch its basket. Maybe influenced by this:

The latest chapter of my past-blasting, courtesy of 남재’s Demonoid booty. All the Tom Baker Doctor Who’s are almost done (although I’d rather someone upload the Peter Davison era, so I can save myself from one day having to reunite with my beloved Tegan on VHS), Community recently reminded me of missed opportunities on the 90’s dance floor, and surely holding this in my hands again will force me back through time. Or into an institution.