I was drinking alone last night, and as I am wont to do on such occasions, got to thinking about Why I Am the Way I Am. I ended up writing a 2000-ish word piece about seeing Close Encounters of the Third Kind when I was eight and connecting it to my discovery of François Truffaut and Jules and Jim and then to Alfred Hitchcock and over to Rod Serling and The Twilight Zone and then somehow back to Truffaut and sideways to Ray Bradbury and Douglas Adams and Neil Gaiman and David Fincher and JJ Abrams and the short sci-fi film (shot on a Betamax camera the size of a Prius) that I made for my gifted class project when I was ten.
It’s a good piece, but I’m not going to post it here. It needs some work.
Also, you people don’t come here for my reflective, thought-provoking stuff. So here is a cat gif for you. You internet dicklicks sure do love your cats.
It’s weird how my childhood inspirations are so similar, and yet I am much less talented.
“I sort of knew that he wouldn’t. I know Chris a bit. I did a couple of meetings, and there was a moment, I suppose, a giddy moment where [I thought] ‘Would he actually do it?’ This wasn’t the kind of decision he took in a funk or that he was cross. He was very measured, very kind, very gentlemanly about it. He’s a good bloke. If you look at Chris’s career, this is not what he does. The Ninth Doctor turns up for the battle and not the party.”—Why Christopher Eccleston wasn’t in the Doctor Who 50th | Anglophenia (via doctorwho)
In Jungle Bungles, Felix the Cat, first animated movie star, takes a newsreel camera to Africa to make a documentary, and ends up massacring most of the wildlife. In one memorable scene, he sucks an angry monkey into his camera, grinding him out the other end as a string of sausages,…