Endgame of Thrones

Given the wordplay possible with Endgame and Game of Thrones, and the cultural event that is this weekend in both regards, my overactive imagination can’t help going all Number of the Beast via the quantum realm.

An expansive take on quantum many worlds theory is that anything that can happen as a branch of reality creating a parallel universe not only does happen, but also any fictional reality exists as an actual reality in its own universe (or presumably its own infinitely branching multiverse). Heinlein’s Number of the Beast, not IMHO his best work ever, yet intriguing enough that I read it twice, long ago, delves into that, notably by visiting Oz.

So I find myself picturing the Avengers gang going astray and landing in Westeros in the midst of the… endgame… of the Game of Thrones universe as, up to that point of departure, depicted in the TV series. Puny Mountain! Hulk smash. But perhaps I’m just easily amused.

Awstats Not the Most Useful Thing

I’ve grumbled about this before, including in the recent post about a hit for Tracy Hyde pics that, when I search it, brings up no actual result pointing here. Now I also see one for Tracy Hyde photo, same deal. Most of the “search phrases” reported by Awstats are things like attacku3k, pressdjv, changing1gx, holdk6w, etc. Completely strange and bogus. Then again, the referrers are almost completely fake, too: Referrer spam, in hopes you might click them when you look at your stats, or something. Some of them are topical, at least, like one that points to something on how to be assertive.

Why purport to show search strings in the stats when obviously you can’t or won’t? So far this month, through about 90 minutes ago, I have about 437 hits from Google. The rest are trivial. By comparison to supposed hits from other sources like “direct address,” “bookmark,” or “link in e-mail,” search hits are trivial. However, that is based on “pages,” which is a number inflated by spammers or other malicious sources hitting things on the site that might not even be visible to people. It’s what happens when you get a relative monoculture of one convenient CMS such as WordPress. Or even an oligarchical culture of a few such things, rather than a wild west of people writing their own HTML. Then again, the nature of the web is relatively transparent regardless. Back in the day, PCs using a Microsoft OS got viruses or malware, and, as people would say, “Apple doesn’t get viruses.” Aim at the big target.

So really those Google hits are probably actual people less a portion of malicious sources arriving via search, and are some fair portion of the 2317 “unique visitors” so far this month. Yet the stats can’t see what the search strings were and report them? I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some obfuscation from Google going on, since they are in the business of reporting their own results if you sign your site up with them. Google Analytics, in my experience, is a bit like hitting a gnat with a sledgehammer. Also I haven’t seen actual search strings there, on sites where I have used it, though it’s possible they must be if you look hard enough through the mess that is the interface.

The most useful thing I can discern currently is that an overwhelming amount of my traffic is now from Great Britain, with the next two being a race back and forth between Japan and United States. That’s how it settled out since blocking enough malicious IP addresses to reduce the numbers from the usual suspect countries. What do I post about a lot? Melody, the 1971 movie. Where was it filmed and where did it eventually if not instantly become popular? Great Britain. The actors tend to be from England or elsewhere in the UK. Some of them are actually part of the movie’s fandom. Where was it a runaway hit? Japan. However they’re finding it, that’s gotta be the source of a lot of traffic.

For some reason, this post is particularly popular as a landing page, and has been almost since I posted it, but after that is the category for Melody. Above both of those are the main page, naturally, and the feed. How are that many people reading via RSS? This is not my blogging heyday. Heck, in my blogging heyday, I’d have considered these great stats. I’ve had individual posts avalanched with tens of thousands of hits in years past, but not in a long time. Anyway, after that some of the results include popular ancient posts on an archived site at this domain that was created in Expression Engine and never ported to WordPress. Brave souls, going there when the pages consist of long lists of PHP errors before and after the actual post. The version of PHP on the server outstripped the version supported by EE.

So I can discern a few things mainly by looking at the stats. Melody posts generate some interest. So do some of the music posts. Google sends me a lot of mystery traffic from searches. For all I know, a lot of that goes to the archived site. A weird number of people use the feed. Most of the traffic is nefarious. All I get for comments are spam ones, which I believe these days are generally automated. The mix of pages people visit via HTTPS is substantially different, with the residual politics category and history category being far above Melody, but the total coming that way is dwarfed by plain HTTP.

It’d be fun to see a better report of the search results, but oh well.

How It Should Have Ended

I still haven’t done the Melody blurb rewrite, but thinking about that has left me amused to imagine Melody getting the Honest Trailers treatment, or the How It Should Have Ended (HISHE) treatment. Obviously I can’t readily create videos that would emulate those, even if I came up with content that would make them work, but I can imagine Epic Voice Guy talking about coming for the short skirts on pubescent girls and staying for the story of love, friendship, and childhood anarchy in a world of clueless adults.

As for how it should have ended, that’s a darn good question! It’s possible that the ending is perfect for what the movie strives to do, and it’s just the questions of what happens after that make it feel incomplete. Moonrise Kingdom doesn’t leave us hanging in the same way. But then, Moonrise Kingdom also deals more seriously with the marriage thing, and leaves the kids knowing they can’t really get married, but a ritual won’t hurt. You can see Sam and Suzy ending up together forever. But Sam is more Ornshaw than Daniel. Heck, Suzy is perhaps more Daniel than Melody.

Melody could have ended with each of the lovebirds having it explained to them what marriage is about, even without the sex talk and detail of that part, and about the legalities. They could have been allowed to have a ceremony that would mean something to them and then carry on without there being trauma. If they drifted apart, well, that happens, but they could simply have been particularly young boyfriend and girlfriend until they grew up enough to have it not be unusually young and still loved each other, or grew up enough to grow apart and move on. Perhaps if the adults have sense, when they are rounded up and returned home after the ending, or when they return home themselves upon realizing they’ve nowhere else to go, that might be how it goes. That’s about the happiest after-ending you could have without invoking pure fantasy.

Not what I set out to cover in this post, which is already much longer than I’d expected, but I had further thoughts on the class and family aspects. You have Ornshaw, essentially an orphan, low class but super smart, if sassy. You have Daniel upper/middle class but may as well be an orphan, with a horrible family situation and a mom who is simultaneous neglectful and an overbearing helicopter mom before the term was invented.  Then you have Melody, working class but with a more normal, which is not to say imperfect, family situation. We watch Daniel fall in love with her family and perhaps that makes him love her even more. Arguably the scenes with her father are meant to contrast with Daniel’s father, absent even when present, entirely disengaged. For all Melody finds her dad buffoonish at tea, for Daniel it’s a pleasant switch.

Anyway, How It Should Have Ended: Melody. That would be fun. An honest trailer would be easier, since you could use actual footage and create a voiceover. I wouldn’t begin to be able to animate any HISHE type of video.

Tracy Hyde Pics

I was amused to see that a search for “tracy hyde pics” registered in my stats, which normally don’t show traffic that resulted from searches. At least, not legitimate ones. I’m impressed, since when I searched that on Google, this site didn’t come up in any of the 12 screens of results. It did get kind of interesting though, with things purporting to have Tracy Hyde nude, topless or whatnot. Many years ago I used to have fun with Google by creating posts with bunches of names of current celebrity young women and the words nude, naked, etc. This would generate a bunch of traffic, and probably a bit of disappointment or chagrin. Erica Durance was the favorite for searches at the time, though I was partial to Allison Mack. That turned out a bit unexpected, celebrity-wise.

Anyway, I haven’t actually posted any Tracy Hyde or Melody-related pictures. There are tons of them out there, and I have downloaded a few. I created one from a screenshot as an aid in learning the name of the actress who played the unnamed character played by Karen Williams. A more obscure one I found is a collage of modeling images of Tracy Hyde when she was even younger. You can totally see the star quality that made them want her for the film. You can also see the ways in which modeling is a form of acting.

So I’m sorry to say that there are no Tracy Hyde or other Melody pics here. Maybe someday. I don’t like to upload pics via WordPress, so when I have done pictures in the past, I have sized them as needed, uploaded them with FTP, then embedded them in posts, sometimes with the embedded picture linking to a larger copy. I’d probably do this with textual context, like illustrating something I am discussing. Or discussing the illustration, as the case may be.

I don’t watch much TV these days. Not that I ever did. So I’m not sure what names I’d even use in a tease post with nude, naked, etc. Maisie Williams, perhaps? Bella Ramsey is a bit on the young side. Halston Sage? Eh, whatever. That was kind of a past amusement. Now, who cares?

What If

It’s not just a genre for alternate history SF any more. It’s a 2014 2013 (the latter per IMDB, the former per Amazon, which owns IMDB) romantic comedy, starring Daniel Radcliffe, Zoe Kazan, and Adam Driver. Fantastic! Zoe was just gorgeous, and amazing. Daniel makes you completely forget he was ever Harry Potter. Adam is tall. Very tall compared to Radcliffe. I don’t think I had noticed his height as the rogue Skywalker. He made a great Ornshaw-like friend, whose cousin is actually the girl in question.

Weird! I just discovered that the original title was “The F Word.” I had heard of that one. Just never saw it, though the trailer looks familiar.

Megan Park was Zoe’s sister and was also great. I would be attracted to the looks plus quirkiness of Chantry (Zoe), but would be attracted probably more at sight to Dalia (Megan), if I knew nothing but how they each looked.

The film was delightful, funny, quirky and different. It was somewhat a modernized variant of When Harry Met Sally, which to its credit is something I didn’t catch until well into the movie. On the negative side, it’s about being soundly friend zoned, and could bring out bad memories of Daphne. On the positive side, it’s a look at how important being that close as friends can be to a relationship.

Daphne didn’t ruin things by wanting to be just friends after cuddling with me and being my first kiss. She didn’t really even ruin things by dating my best friend and ultimately having casual sex with my other best friend. She ruined things by coming along later and teasing me with the possibility of something that was never going to happen and spending some nights platonically in the same bed as me. At that point, much later in our lives than our high school and immediate post high school years, she lectured me about the evils of casually having sex, rather than “making love.” Yet that was just what she’d done with one of my friends who had zero interest in her but was having a dry spell just then. He thought of it as lowering himself shamefully. But this is supposed to be about a movie I just watched and loved.

I still find it funny to watch these things and see people in, say, their twenties or so being so free, enthusiastic and open about sex. That’s not the world I grew up in, or at least not a part of the world I ever saw personally. It’s how it ought to be, but it still boggles me. I probably would have been better off to have been the guy in Hello I Love You, working and working and working, never making the slightest attempt to be social, and being 29 with no dating experience or friends but 200k in the bank. No way I’d have stayed “living at home” as he did to help save money. I moved out about as soon as possible, never went back to my mother’s, and still feel somewhat shamed I moved to my father’s to make it possible, or at least easier, to go to college. One of these days I might remember to write a post about how I’ve always identified with my work to an irrational degree.

Maybe that’s why I like romantic comedies. They connect with something I wanted and never had. Which reminds me how great it was that The Princess Bride had a cameo in What If. One of the best movies ever.

Hello, One Small Hitch

After watching Moonrise Kingdom and already being up past my bedtime, I watched One Small Hitch free on Amazon Prime. It may be a “by the numbers romantic comedy,” but I was entranced. I thought Aubrey Dollar (sounds like a stage name if I ever heard one) as Molly was wonderfully acted and stunningly beautiful. Like Melody, Molly would have been a fantastic name for my second daughter, had we thought of it. Even though I have seen it and know how it ends, I might even consider watching it again after a while. I knew roughly how it would end before it started, after all, because of what it was.

I liked the rest of the cast as well. Josh seemed more generic than Molly, to me. Giselle was well cast and in the end a very wise character. I just loved Max and was sure he must be one of those old guys I’d seen in other things before. Yet the only thing I might have remembered him from was Hill Street Blues. I wasn’t a regular viewer of that, but would have caught enough to have seen him in action when he was much younger.

If you like romantic comedies and don’t mind that they are all relatively predictable variants of the same basic idea, I would recommend it.

After this, late as it was, I started to watch Hello I Love You, which I remember seeing promoted last year. I love the idea of it. I love Emma, played by Kabrina Miller, and to a lesser degree her friend Mandy, played by Elizabeth Monte. It’s a great setup, that the two of them play elaborate practical jokes on each other and this Emma believes Andy is part of the next one of those. That figures into her accepting ten dates with him after he comes up to her, a stranger, and asks her to marry him. At the end of the ten dates, he will ask again. Andy’s character is in some ways relatable to me – 29 and no dating experience, plus career frustration for all he’s been a workaholic. His is the weaker character or casting, in my initial impression of having watched until partway through their first date.

The premise is good. The villainy of the people at the production company is predictable. I found myself wondering if that wouldn’t turn out as you might expect. He works in a lowly job at the production company and pitched this as a reality show idea. The girl has no idea she is being filmed.

I turned it off before the first date was over. I had finally gotten quite sleepy, and I was cringing. Sometimes I empathize too much with people on the screen and, in a home environment where I have a choice, will stop watching because I find it too hard to take. It’ not Andy on that date, in that messy, awkward situation. It’s me. I internalize things that much when they are happening to other people, even fictional other people. Arguably an autistic tendency, if you subscribe to the theory that autism involves feeling and empathizing to excess, rather than not feeling or relating. That makes it hard to people if you have those tendencies, even if you’re nowhere close to something that’d ever be diagnosed. So I was ready to skip ahead or go to bed, and being sleepy made it go to bed. I may pick it up where I left off, or may fast forward and watch enough bits to follow what happens. One awkward thing made me think of Melody. On the first date, he tries to order for her because he has seen that on TV or whatever. It doesn’t go well. That reminds me of Daniel trying to carry Melody’s bag because he “knows” that’s what you do when you’re walking with the girl. Except they’re 11 years old. Melody bemusedly takes it back with a silent I can do that myself kind of reaction.

Anyway, there’s my romance binge for last night, when I didn’t feel like doing anything else. For all I wasn’t sleeping yet, I was way too tired to think much or do anything at all useful.

Update:
I couldn’t resist. I continued watching Hello I Love You. It was awesome. Didn’t go exactly as I’d expected, apart from Mike turning good, the boss getting what was coming to him, and Emma being angry when it turned out to be a reality show. I had also thought about permissions right at the beginning, and wondered how it would go if they couldn’t get the right to use her in the show. Despite that, I didn’t think it would be a big plot point.

All I Know

On a happier note, I happened to play this after playing my favorite Melody-based music video and thought I would share. It also happens to be way up there in the extensive list of songs I have trouble keeping myself from singing along with. Makes sense, considering that Bridge Over Troubled Water and Scarborough Fair have always been on that list. My daughters are singing Scarborough Fair in their spring chorus concert, so the older one developed enough of an interest in what would otherwise be outside her usual taste that she learned to play it on guitar and was serenading me the other day while talking music as I cooked. Astrophysicist? Rock star? No telling which she may be at this point!

For some reason, I tend to associate The Wedding Song with All I Know, even though it’s Paul Stookie. That is also on the sing along list. It’s notable for playing on the radio when people went to their cars after my friend Julie’s wedding back when we were barely out of high school. Apparently YouTube associates them, too, or knows I do, since that’s how it came to mind.

I’m late for bed now, so I’ll stop here and either carry on in another post or add some of it to this tomorrow. I’ll also double check the links I included later, since I didn’t actually play all of them just now as I was picking them.

ONLY a Year?

It amuses me to read something like this article about a sexual dry spell survey that found nearly 3 in 10 American adults are stuck in a dry spell for nearly a year. OMG!

Obviously my experience has been entirely abnormal and people just don’t wait until they’re 42, only to discover the libido of the partner who deigned to have them isn’t all that after all, and then get abandoned for the rest of their life five years later. Amateurs! Had I not met the wife, which might not have happened without it being online and her being sufficiently aggressive, I fully expected and had accepted that I would be alone and unencumbered by that allegedly normal experience for the rest of my life.

I could write at some length about all the messed up perceptions and feelings I developed from childhood on, and I have to some degree elsewhere here. It’s a horrible thing to do to a young person, convincing them that they are evil for being interested in sex, that having it is wrong, that they are ugly and unappealing, that nobody would ever find them attractive sexually or romantically, that the opposite sex is to be feared or is a source of intimidation, or anything like that. For that matter, it’s a horrible thing to convince a young person that they are hopelessly stupid, incompetent, or will never amount to anything more generally, and the one certainly can’t help the other.

Temptation Eyes

Or: One of My Stranger Misheard Lyrics.

When The Grass Roots came out with Temptation Eyes in 1970, I just loved it. It’s so catchy. It never gained any special association with an individual. It was too early for that. I know I heard it partly via my brother, but it didn’t really stick as a song associated with him. One of the guys in the band actually reminds me of him in appearance.

Later I associated I’d Wait a Million Years with Daphne, appropriately, since I’d have had to wait that long. Midnight Confessions came to be associated with the wife’s wandering back when it was at its height and I was at my most irritated and hurt about it. I had an entire playlist of songs for that. (Speaking of, I love when I’m banging away at the keyboard and she starts talking, so I keep pausing to try to remember what I was thinking and saying, then bang furiously some more before the thought can slip again, rinse and repeat, as during these two paragraphs up to about where I started this parenthetical. But if I can do that, it beats all the times I’ve been trying to type something and just had to stop, never again to remember my train of thought.)

So the funny lyric things? Remember I turned 9 in 1970. Then they sing “I want her all for myself” with the words somewhat slurred, I was hearing “I wanna roffle myself.” Roffle?! I had no idea what they were saying. Now we have ROFL, so if you hear roffle it might be ROFL. It didn’t take long for me to figure it out. Not years and years and needing the web to do so, at least. Too funny.

I’m surprised the song didn’t chart higher. At the time they were current, this and Sooner or Later were the songs I knew them for. Two Divided By Love, too! How could I forget that. It was another from my separation playlist.

 

Mick Jagger

Seeing the news – if it’s not an elaborate April Fool’s joke – that Mick Jagger needs heart valve surgery made me think that he needs Camille Davis (Muriel) to kiss him and make him all better.

Speaking of Muriel, I have only met one Muriel in my entire life, at my first job, in late 1979 or the beginning of 1980. I liked her a lot, and loved the name. She was, compared to me at the time, a much older woman.

I never thought of using the name for one of my kids. It’s not ideal with the actual surname, but wouldn’t be ridiculous. The wife vetoed Wendy. I didn’t come out and suggest Karen. Kaylee would have fit, but we weren’t sure we wanted to bandwagon onto a Firefly name. Melody would have been ideal, had the name come to mind at all. It would have flowed better with the same middle name and the surname. She has an angelic voice and writes her own songs, so the music association would fit. I didn’t realize how much I liked the name Molly until later. It would also have worked, if not fit as ideally. Middle name would have needed to be different. But I digress.

I tend to associate the names Muriel and Ariel with each other. There was an obscure song when I was near the end of high school that was named Ariel. It seems to be a more common name than Muriel, and of course it was Disneyed. I know one Arielle. Same name, variant spelling.

The M thing is something I noticed in passing recently. Melody. Muriel. Maureen. Peggy is usually short for Margaret. That just leaves Rhoda the odd one out. None of that was probably intentional, but certainly when writing a story you get lots of leeway in selecting names. It’s like having a bunch of babies!

Joking aside, I hope Mick has successful surgery and recovers well. He’s in good shape. He has to be to do the things he does on stage.

I’ll Have a Screenplay Yet!

I’m laughing at my title, but anything is possible.

Even as I was bemoaning the difficulty of forcing yourself to do work that requires creativity, while I was at it, I added major components to the idea that’s been percolating in my head for a story a bit like Melody or Moonrise Kingdom, featuring elements from my own youth. Not sure I have an ending exactly, but I have a crescendo brewing.

I just have to keep reminding myself that the setting can never exactly duplicate what I knew back then, even though I would set it then.

I am also toying with the idea of incorporating one or more kids having seen Melody into the plot. I had already thought of that for a book idea I’ve had percolating for much longer. Indeed, I thought of combining the two things. Melody meets SF/fantasy.

I need to work on something of an outline for the more basic version and see how many holes I still have at this point. Perhaps then i can flesh it out and actually write it. All this writing of essentially stream of consciousness blog posts has gotten me used to the idea of sitting down and writing something. If I can put that to more directed use and then edit appropriately, maybe magic will happen to an old guy. Okay, not really old, but getting there and needing life to change. It’s harder to let yourself be truly old when your oldest kid won’t even be 15 until later this year.

Sharing An Earworm

Ron Dante was the lead singer of both The Archies and The Cufflinks. I sometimes mix him up with Tony Burrows, who was a one hit wonder five times, with five different groups, including some of my all time favorite songs and one, Beach Baby, that I forgot to list as a Zack song.

The Cufflinks had a hit called Tracy, which can’t be blamed on Tracy Hyde fandom, since it predated Melody by a couple years. The same can’t be said of the song Tracy Hide by the Wondermints, which has good lyrics but to which I have yet to warm, as something I like to play, good as that band is.

Anyway, here is the current earworm. Or recent one, since playing the video and writing this post seems to have helped dispel it from my head. I’d been singing it while loading the dishwasher, before coming back to the computer.

 

 

Spam

I love getting a pile of spam comments every day. No real ones! Just spam. Not getting real ones might be a matter of “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it” or “silence is golden” and might be just as well, but hey. I get an awful lot of traffic for it to be nothing but spam.

Speaking of those old sayings, my late friend Frank, in 8th grade before I ever met him, had to give a speech in speech class. I didn’t have that class because I was in French instead. He got up, said “silence is golden.” That was it. When prompted, he added “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it.” The class loved it, of course, and I forget whether the teacher gave him an A or a B, but it was a decent grade that rewarded his cleverness.

Pretty Lady

I had left my playlist of MP3 songs playing while in the kitchen making supper, so I could kind of half hear it. Then I heard Pretty Lady, by Lighthouse, distinctly. It transported me back in time. I absolutely love the song. It fits a category of song where the angst-ridden guy wonders if and how he can ever get the girl to notice him, or if she could possibly be interested, or what to do about her appearing not to be. Related is the category where the guy pines for the girl he had and lost or wasn’t able to have even when she knew about it. I’m a hopeless romantic. Emphasis on hopeless, not hopeful like Kathleen Turner. Speaking of stones, I’m Stone in Love With You could be part of the aforementioned category, and is another song I love.

Pretty Lady is one of Frank’s songs. If I’d randomly written a post titled “Frank Songs” and tried to remember ones associated with him, I would probably have forgotten it completely, even though it’s one of the biggest. His high school Ella was a girl we’ll call Frannie. She really was gorgeous, though I’d have gone more for her friend we’ll call Angie, an adorable blond girl I noticed very much in jr high school, but didn’t quite count as a crush. They were both from his town, which separated from the school district at the high school level, except for vocational students, after the new high school for the purpose was completed in time for tenth grade. I never saw them after that, and really not after eighth. For him this was later in school, rather than ninth grade like my Ella was.

She really didn’t seem to notice he even existed, and he never seemed to get her attention. I think because he was more in love and less looking to get some, he was more timid than he might have been. She wasn’t his only major crush. An earlier one at least noticed him enough to tell him to drop dead. Pretty Lady was his wistful, hopeful/hopeless song for Frannie.

It’s really a great song, and you just don’t hear it. They were, to my knowledge, a two hit wonder. Their other song was One Fine Morning.

As for other Frank songs? I may have mentioned that he was enough of a fan of ABBA as I was discovering them that I associate him with the band overall. I associate him with Ballroom Blitz, by the Sweet. The fact that he blasted it out of large stereo speakers while leaning between them, pointing at each other with his head in between, leaves me associating him somewhat with Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf as well. “I like to dream. Yes, yes, right between the sound machine.” That matched what I was seeing. It turns out that the same thing was the inspiration for the lyric. I believe it was John Kay, between two speakers in Germany.

He introduced me to Kate Bush, specifically The Dreaming, so for me that, the only Kate Bush song I have ever actually liked, conjures him.

There have to be more.  A lot of our relationship had to do with music. Oddly enough, I can’t recall going with him to any concerts.

Okay, see? I wasn’t even done adding links to all the songs mentioned, clicking categories and publishing this when I thought of another. Probably because I have Pink Floyd as a category. My categories are a mess because I started adding subcategories willy-nilly and soon realized it was completely out of hand in part due to how they are presented on the blog. I should really have used tags. So I have categories for people or things I may never mention again, and have been using a master category (music, movies, actors…) for new ones that may be one-shots, but may be mentioned more often. Ugh.

Anyway, from The Wall, he was a massive fan of Run Like Hell. I can’t hear it without remembering Frank. Great song, of course. He enjoyed the lyrics or, more accurately, the imagery.  While it spoke the the kind of trouble he might get up to. Once he opened the flood gates, he completely made up for everything I missed out on. It was almost baffling when he couldn’t get some. Apparently it was impossible for me to learn anything by his example or encouragement.  But the real target of the song for him was the guy in college who ended up with Frank’s girlfriend who was probably, among those he was able to get and excluding someone like Frannie, the love of his life. Frank went on a vendetta, his entire personality changed, and he was never the same person, even many years after he got over it. I thought it was bizarre that he actually became relatively close to that guy near the end of his life, and that guy presented himself as a good friend of Franks afterward. Which I guess says as much about me, not forgetting a slight on my friend’s behalf, even if it was no skin off my rump and things turned out just as well for all involved. And that even though it arguably wasn’t a slight so much as the girl deciding to go be with someone else for a time. Well, my beef might also have been with the personality transformation. But I digress.

Granny

A character that adds a bit of nuance to Melody is “Granny Perkins,” Melody’s grandmother who lives with the family. The thing is, she can’t be Granny Perkins. Melody’s name from her father is Perkins, and it’s obvious that Granny is Melody’s maternal grandmother.

There’s the relationship between her and Mrs. Perkins, whose name is Flo, as we learn from Granny. The two of them look like they could be mother and daughter. Obviously that’s a matter of casting. In real life at the time, if I remember right, Granny was old enough to be Melody’s great grandmother.

The big clue is when Daniel is at tea. Granny is talking, mainly addressing Mr. Perkins, and she refers to “my Ernie,” obviously speaking of her husband. If she were addressing her son, she would say “your father” or such, more likely. I could be wrong, but it strikes me as how she’d talk to her son-in-law instead of her son.

My father’s parents didn’t live directly with us the way Granny does with the Perkins family. They lived in the same house, in a pseudo-apartment that took four of the six rooms in the house. The first floor had two large rooms, which were a kitchen/ dining room, and a living room. The full bath was on the second floor with the grandparents, and the first floor had a half bath.

Yes, this made the place kind of small, for a large looking house. It had belonged to my grandparents. My parents had planned to build a new house across the street. It was the only house on the street, though there were several other buildings. On the opposite side there was a tiny building that was an office; a maintenance building of sorts, the only one that exists to this day, and the closest one to being usable as a dwelling; a pump house for our well; a storage building clad in green metal; and a similar building, originally, that my father had bought with a small lot for his business. Something I am not supposed to mention happened that resulted in his having to build a replacement, only to have it happen again, this time to be replaced on the other side of town instead. On the same side as us there was an old sawmill, which I only saw used once in my childhood; there was a long, low storage building that housed things like bulldozers and bog equipment; there was an even bigger green metal clad building similarly used for storage; and then there was a row of small shed-like buildings, clad in green metal, ranging from several feet square down to shallow closet sized. In the middle of those, one was an outhouse, which gives an idea what I mean by the range of sizes. Those lined the road as it started down a hill from the uplands down to the level of the swamp. There was a twin of the outhouse down in the swamp, in a wooded area between two sections of cranberry bogs. In their early years, the sheds had been used for storing munitions, from what I understand. That was the primary business of the man my grandfather worked for, who had originally owned all the land around us and the bogs. In later years, the largest and smallest of the sheds got hauled to our yard. The largest my brother and I used as a chicken coop. The smallest we used as more or less a potting shed.

My grandfather couldn’t afford the mortgage. Their kids were grown and only the youngest still lived there. My father prevailed in the battle over whether we would take over that place, house the five of us in two rooms and the cellar and keep his parents housed, or build our own place. There were conditions, like what he would do to finish the cellar to make viable rooms out of it. It wasn’t the end of the world and I certainly never knew better as a kid, but it only got part of the way there. The marriage was probably doomed then and there, even if it hadn’t been already. It’s interesting having a clearer idea of the dynamics of a situation like that, now that I’m an “old misery” myself. I can understand how they irritated each other, and I always knew it wasn’t one-sided.

It was cool having the grandparents around. Handy, too. Between older siblings, my father working a stone’s throw up the street, and grandparents handy, there was never an issue with an adult being around if needed. Not that my grandmother babysat us, per se. My mother didn’t work, but we were babysat by my mother’s younger sister a couple times before I was school age. We also saw a lot of my mother’s parents, and stayed with them a lot. We didn’t get left in her care, but we also visited my great grandmother, my mother’s mother’s mother, regularly. My oldest got her name. Unfortunately, she hates the name. Oops.

So to me the Waltons weren’t strange, having the grandparents living in the same house, even though ours were semi-separate. It’s probably much more historically normal to have multiple generation households than not. Or three+ generation, really, since parents and kids are multiple generations. But, you know, multiple adult generations. The dynamics might be something to be worked out. Finances, too, since that might be part of the point. I can totally see having my kids live with me after they are adults, but not as people I’m supporting when they are in their thirties. I can see living in the same house with them and their kids. It’s a source of stability.

I still haven’t figured out where they fit Granny Perkins in that apartment. Near as I can tell so far, you go in and the kitchen/dining room is on the right. Adjoining it and next on the right is the living room. Melody’s room is directly at the end of the hall, and before that is the master bedroom. Before that must be the bathroom, though for some reason I thought that was on the right. But if the bathroom is on the right, it would be in the same spot as the living room. Since you can see the kitchen from the living room, well… I’d have to review and see if I am clear again. Maybe she’s in a closet on the right before Melody’s room? It’s all supposedly a set built in the main building they used for filming, which doesn’t explain the appropriate views out the windows. Maybe that’s CGI. Oh wait… 1970. LOL.

Darn, gotta go to the dentist and either publish this without reviewing it or save a draft. I think I said what I wanted, if not well, so I’ll go for it.

More Concerts

I mentioned previously my first and most recent concerts, and said I’d fill in more later. It’s later. I’m afraid I don’t remember the order of the concerts after the Bee Gees and before Styx with Pat Benatar. For what it’s worth, whoever opened for the Bee Gees was nobody you ever heard of and was pretty bad, but I still thought it was mean that people booed them so mercilessly. I rather like the more modern approach of pairing bands that are closer to peers than to have an unknown like Jimi Hendrix open for the Monkees. But to be fair that’s a nostalgia tour marketing concept.

It’s so weird trying to drink anything when you’re numb after getting a filling. Just a side note.

I am pretty sure my last concert before Styx was Pink Floyd, in my only trip ever to Foxboro Stadium. My youngest brother treated me. I wouldn’t have thought to go to Floyd, as much as I loved The Wall and wondered how Roger Waters had gotten into my head when I first heard it at Daphne’s house when it came out. And of course, I try to do a non-Melody post and what happens? There’s a direct connection between Melody and Pink Floyd! Sir Alan Parker went from ad copy writing (writing marketing material is fun! But it can be hard and takes a lot of creativity, from what exposure I’ve had to doing it) to writing a screenplay to directing. The screenplay was Melody. The directing bug bit him when he did some second unit stuff, not even credited, I believe, on Melody. Outdoor stuff with gangs of kids. The field day specifically, if I remember correctly what I read about it.

Parker went on to direct, among other things, Fame, which I saw with my friend Perry and possibly Joan in 1980. Love me some Irene Cara! Speaking of connections you can make, you go from Irene Cara to Electric Company to Joss Whedon;s father to Joss and, you name it: Avengers, Buffy, Dr. Horrible, but of course for me it’s Firefly. We considered naming our middle child Kaylee. Turned out it would have fit, but it had also become surprisingly common, in one spelling or another.

Digression. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.

Then Parker directed Pink Floyd: The Wall, which was released in 1982. I didn’t see it until 1985, at Layla’s house. It was pretty wild. Not what the album made me visualize. More fascinating than the fact that he connects to Pink Floyd and it’s fun to make these connections is that he directed a large gang of rebelling school kids in The Wall. It seems somehow… familiar. Gotta teach your children well, not employ darkly sarcastic thought control.

That Pink Floyd tour was the one where they had a huge pig suspended over the place. Not sure the whole thing worked as intended. The lasers in the foggy air were wicked cool, though.

I am 99% sure that the concert I went to before Pink Floyd was Foreigner, with Joe Walsh as the opener. I didn’t know from Joe Walsh at the time, apart from Life’s Been Good, which is actually a song I associate with my friend Frank. His show was awesome. I was in the men’s room when Rocky Mountain Way started. I remembered the song from my childhood, but couldn’t have told you who did it, and wouldn’t have remembered it if not prompted by hearing it. I wasn’t expecting Life in the Fast Lane, another song I associate with Frank. So there were three hits, and the stuff I didn’t know at all was good. The way music you hear in concert is usually better than you might perceive it to be if you tried listening in another setting and format. I’m not sure I would say he was worth the ticket all by himself, the way Benatar was, but he was damn good.

Foreigner, the original lineup, was just amazing. The connection to Floyd is that I took my youngest brother to Foreigner, his first concert ever. That was at the Worcester Centrum, my only trip to that venue. He was blown away. That was his response, some time later, treating me to Pink Floyd.

Foreigner was one of those bands that seemed like they kept playing and playing and playing and it would go on endlessly, with every ounce of energy at the end that they gave away from the beginning. The live version of Hot Blooded is great live. It doesn’t belong on my greatest hits CD, thankyouverymuch. They have the distinction of being the only band ever to leave my ears hurting. It lasted a while, too. That’s not necessarily a good thing, but I guess it’s a risk you take.

One relatively early concert I went to was one of my all time favorite bands who are the Bee Gees, the Moody Blues. Not one of the amazing, fancy concerts where they have an orchestra to help them do justice to things like the tracks off Days of Future Passed. Passed, not past, people. There’s probably a linguistics lesson in there somewhere, but I’m no Mark David Ledbetter.

This was not one of my better concerts. It was cool. I got to see the Moody Blues! Their new music was also good, from Long Distance Voyager or whichever one they were promoting. The company was abysmal and made the evening miserable. If I were to talk about songs reminding me of Daphne, the girl who messed with my head so thoroughly that I arguably still haven’t recovered, I would have to include Moody Blues as an entire band. Luckily that doesn’t ruin them for me. We both already loved them. It was one of the things we had in common. That and space. I’m not sure I ever met anyone else who shared my dream at the time of starting a private space launch company. Obviously that didn’t happen, but it was at the heart of one of my earlier book (series) ideas after I realized if I couldn’t ever do it I at least could fictionalize it. I was floored when I read Heinlein’s The Man Who Sold the Moon a few years later and saw the commonalities and by how many years he’d beaten me to it, albeit in short form. I don’t know when I might have read it had I not signed up for a US literature class for which part of the reading came from Heinlein’s The Past Through Tomorrow. After having bought that for the class, and having been thrilled the professor was that cool, I had to drop the class before it even began. I made sure to sign up with the same guy a later semester, but then he had switched to Lovecraft. Just not the same! Though I don’t regret the exposure to it. It was something my late uncle loved.

Wow, that was a digression. I only remember who one of the other people with us was. She and he are both FB friends these days. I think another one of the people with us may have been a guy she pined for and had ground down into having sex with her, once, and ensuring I knew about it, while maintaining the bizarre… virginal?… act toward me. That aside, everyone seemed to be in a tempestuous mood. The drive there was unpleasant and argumentative. The mood in the group of us in the venue itself was, well, moody. It was a relief for it to be over, even though the concert proper did settle things down.

In terms of company and the moods people were in, that was the worst. It wasn’t as bad taking abuse from Zack’s sister over my accidental purchase of seats with an obstructed view for ELO. Which I know I mentioned somewhere, but should also go in a post specifically about concerts. Moody Blues were the third of my three concerts at Providence Civic Center. I can remember two at Boston Garden, but I may be forgetting one. I’ll get back to the rest of the concerts another day.

Clothes Shopping

I hate it. Generally. During part of the time I did Microsoft support, we were required to wear ties. Guys would cope by getting the catchiest or most outrageous ties they could find. It was fun finding cool ties. I still have a big collection hanging in the closet that’s mainly devoted to storing things that aren’t clothes, and is usually blocked with stuff that must be moved if I want to remind myself what’s in there. Like a few weeks ago when I pulled out the prints and painting I bought years ago at science fiction conventions, but never got framed and hung. Showed them to the kids and told them whatever there was to tell. The oldest is artistic, so it was mainly for her benefit. Also handed over my Michael Whelan art books for her to look through for a day or two. Speaking of art, as I recall, one of my ties is inspired by Starry Night. Love Van Gogh.

Winter is always lean at my job, so I’ve been limping along with an increasingly small number of jeans that both fit and don’t have holes too large for me to be willing to wear them. They tend to develop worn spots and then holes right around the bottom of where the pocket is inside the pants. That’s from leaning or rubbing against the metal bar that runs along the side of the conveyor belt. The extent of it depends on the exact nature of the work at the time. For a long time, I was working off of rollers, scanning and stacking packages onto pallets, wrapping them, and putting the pallets into a trailer to go on a ferry. Then for a while I was working mainly inside a trailer with rollers on the floor, floor loading packages as someone else took them off the conveyor and sent them down the rollers. We no longer do that particular location, and I subsequently spent a lot of time mostly standing against a conveyor and a slide going down either to rollers or another conveyor, splitting packages to the appropriate place. That started the wear pattern happening heavily. When I loaded the trailer, I sometimes had to be out at the conveyor to put in my own packages, then go up a couple steps into the trailer, stack before anything got by or rely on others to catch them, then pop back down the steps, rinse and repeat. Broke a rib and got whiplash falling down the stairs and against the conveyor structure a couple years back. Fun. It took six months for it to stop hurting completely. Never missed a day of work for it, and only knew I broke the rib because of an unrelated CAT scan a month afterward that happened to show the unhealed rib.

Now I still split from the middle of a conveyor down to the only remaining stretch of rollers in the place, where someone scans and puts packages onto pallets rather than loading them directly into delivery vans. However, I also scan and load packages into two or three vans at the same time. So it might be 300 packages I load, give or take, and 400-600 packages I send down to the rollers. I move around a lot and don’t lean against the metal support along the conveyor so much, but the damage was done.

I had been buying the cheapest Walmart jeans for many years. $9 and change a pair. If they wore out I bought more. I knew what size fit and could reliably walk in and buy them. Then they stopped carrying my style, so I had to order them. Good thing I knew exactly the size and style to order.

At the same time, the pants got super sensitive to abrading, and the newest pants ended up with the worst wear and the biggest holes. They also seemed to shrink more easily. I stopped ordering them and braced myself to find something else, but that had to wait for the tax refund or for an increase in income. It’s both that time, and getting critical in terms of what is available to wear. I was keeping enough pants to get me through variability in laundry processing.

The thing is, no matter what Walmart might say on the labels of the cheap jeans to flatter me, I am not a 38 waist. 30 inseam, sure, but an old pair of Dockers I wore recently for the first time in years is a 40 waist and would barely button. I will have to pick a likely brand or two and – ugh! – try them on in sizes ranging around where I expect them to fit. Then I will have to try a pair or two in each size and brand long enough to see how they shrink and such. Whatever passes, I can then buy more, maybe make a habit. If I find the size in better brands is a reliable indicator, I might even be able to risk ordering online in a brand I haven’t tried. We’ll see.

In the meantime, it’s the first day on which it would be viable and appropriate to shop. It’s about the last thing I want to do.

Sequel

I was thinking never mind a remake. A sequel could have been interesting. It could have answered some questions that will be left forever up in the air about what happened after, or it could have continued to leave ambiguity while still picking up later.

It could have been a bit like having a sequel to The Cutting Edge, another favorite movie of mine. Figure skating meets romantic comedy! What could be better? Besides something that resonates with my own childhood as dramatically as Melody manages. You come along later in their lives and they’re married. Hijinks ensue with their own kid and/or themselves. Times change. Kids not entirely. That they married for real would be some vindication, without regard for how they arrived there after whatever hell there was to pay for the antics at the end of the original.

Of course, in fan fiction anything could happen. A while back I saw someone posit a scenario where they find themselves at Hogwarts via the trolley. Surreal. Or you could put them in a post-apocalyptic situation. TEOTWAWKI could hit while they are off on the trolley, and they are fending for themselves, trying to get by with the clothes on their backs. Pure fantasies of whatever variety.

Skipping ahead would certainly fit the storytelling pattern of the movie. Just as we never see what happens when Daniel collapses after winning the 220. His mother panics! Get the medic! Maybe we don’t need to do more than infer just how traumatic it was for everyone to get their lives and schooling back to something passing for normal. Maybe we don’t need to know how the kids became married old miseries. They just are, and we revisit old friends later in their lives. Ornshaw graduates Top Gun, becomes a hero and gets to return there as an instructor. Wait, wrong movie. Since he’s actually smarter than the teachers, he goes on to become one and show how it’s done. Daniel becomes famous for his art. or at least struggles to make a living at it other than by illustrating Melody’s stories she writes for children.

Or we could throw them together years later, after they’d been torn asunder. Their love will never die, but if they are separated for a while, it takes the right circumstances for a reunion and a more adult romantic comedy before they actually live happily ever after together.

None of which is exactly where I was going with this. The wife started talking and had trouble stopping, much as happens too often when I start typing.

If you go with the Heinleinesque scenario of all realities existing even if they are fiction in our own, then there’s a very real alternate reality, timeline, dimension – whatever you care to call it – in which the events of Melody happened. Number of the Beast, but we’re not in Oz anymore. We don’t know anything about the fine details of that reality in the parts we didn’t get to see, or that came after, but they are happening to those people in that world. Except in the many worlds theory, we have infinitely branching timelines in which any little variation that could happen does happen, each propagating a new universe. Some seem familiar, even indistinguishable. Some seem utterly alien. It takes so little to make a change. A movie that’s released in 1971 and flops in the United States instead does well and makes stars of the people involved, or bigger stars of the already famous ones. That’s a huge ripple through time. Tracy Hyde becomes a household name. She has more and bigger roles. She never becomes a legal secretary. A ten year old boy who’s not entirely different from Daniel Latimer sees it and his life is changed. A far cry from seeing it 47 years later than that and feeling zealously happy yet wistful. Might not be as big a change as we’d have if that movie George Lucas released in 1977, you know, the space one, hadn’t flopped, but… oh wait, that one didn’t flop.

If you put those two concepts together, then every fiction is its own timeline, and every one of those varies and branches infinitely. The one captured by the purveyor of a piece of fiction in our world is just the one we know, not all that could be. Imagine that Icy Hot Song if Ned never lost his head. Or if Avienda, I mean, Ygritte, survived. You know nothing, dear readers.

Seriously, though, a sequel could have been fun. It would have required greater success of the original. While there’s been a great deal of inspiration provided by Melody, despite its cult status, giving us things like Moonrise Kingdom, since most people never heard of Melody, most people wouldn’t care to follow the rest of the story. A shame, but there it is.

1971 Was so long ago, I had to check with my siblings to see if we maybe had seen Melody. As expected, it was no. Never heard of it. I figured that the possibility existed that I could have seen and forgotten it. I doubt it, though. Much as I love First of May and Melody Fair, neither of those came to my attention until later in the seventies. I’d have known them from the movie. The thing is, I know for a fact that we went to see Flight of the Doves in 1971. I remember it being a big deal to my sister. That was yet another Jack Wild film. Yet all I can remember is that I saw it. I remember nothing about it. I remembered parts of the Planet of the Apes movies vividly. My father took as to all four, regardless of whether they might have been age appropriate. I think of myself as having an excellent memory, but things do get spotty from my youth. That wasn’t the best year ever, either, since my father had left in early 1970 and the divorce would be final in the latter part of 1971. Ironically, 4th grade was an exceptional school year for me, and that was 1970-1971. I had both my first crush on a peer, Carol, resembling Melody, and a crush on my pretty blond math teacher. I crashed in 5th grade and had one of my worst school years.  I’ve mentioned it before, but seeing Melody right when I had that first crush in Daniel-but-shyer (and younger) fashion would have been fascinating.

I’m rambling. (I know: “No kidding! You just figured that out?” Heh.) I should be asleep and instead I’m going on and on without saying anything further that pertains to the post. So I’ll stop and survey the damage now.

Peggy Swailscroft

Kay Skinner, now Kay Worsfold (I really like that picture), played Peggy Swailscroft in Melody. It’s always interesting to see whether the kids had been in other things before, and how long they acted after. In her case, that was her first role, and her short acting career ended with a 1972 release. Melody filmed during May through August 1970, when Kay was 12, and came out at the end of March 1971.

I bring her up for a few reasons. She is one of Melody’s closest friends. Besides her, that seems to include Rhoda, played by Lesley Roach, and Muriel, played by Camille Davis. Peggy plays an especially pivotal role, being with Melody at the dance. That makes her the foil – is that the right word? – making it harder for Daniel simply to go up and ask Melody to dance with him, but providing Daniel the excuse to bring Tom Ornshaw for moral support (courage in numbers). My take is that Peggy doesn’t read the situation right and, distasteful as dancing with Ornshaw may be, bear with it for the sake of Melody completing that dance with Daniel. Can’t really blame her, since he’d obviously rather be anywhere else but dancing with her.

Kay did a wonderful job playing that role. She captures the personality of the kid who would be amused to clue Robert Sinclair in so he’s aware of Muriel, then run away before Muriel can get her for doing it, and would play a central role in grilling Muriel about her apparent boy crazy exploits.

I’ve noticed that Kay has noted the cult following of Melody and has popped up online to note what a blast she had being in the film. The kids who were the stars have said similar, that it was a lot of fun.

Even if it was also work, can you imagine growing up, growing older, and having not only the memory, but also the thing you were in to watch. Like home movies, but different. So cool. And hey, she got to work with Roy Kinnear in her last role! She didn’t share scenes with him in Melody, but it looks like he might have played her dad in Raising the Roof. If so, that gives her something in common with both Melody Perkins and Veruca Salt.

We either never learn or have to be paying really close attention to learn both first and last names for the supporting kids. Is it strange that the girls we tend to know by first names and the boys by surnames? We learn Peggy’s name, though, except it took a transcript for me to catch it.

At the dance, there is an exchange between Ornshaw and the gang of boys, one in particular, in which we learn two things:

Hey, look at Swailscroft.
She thinks she knows it all.

Go on, Tom. Dance with her.

No, you won’t get me out there, mate.

I couldn’t hear all this clearly, watching even the best copy on YouTube. I thought Ornshaw was referring to Melody when he said something indistinguishable and that she thinks she knows it all. After all, there was no love lost between those two, and they had made faces at each other in the cafeteria scene. (Actually, Ornshaw does later say of Melody “She’s a bit stuck up, that one.” Forgot that when I first typed this.) But perhaps he’d know not to make fun of Melody in front of Daniel. If Melody was the last to know Daniel loved her, Ornshaw had to be the first. At that point, I had no reason to expect Ornshaw to dislike Peggy.

This is the one and only time in the entire film where Ornshaw is addressed as Tom, and the reason why the more perceptive or obsessed knew his full name. Then famous last words, not getting him out there. Between wanting to do most anything for Daniel and being susceptible to goading and the need to keep up his image with the guys, it was all over just after that.

As for the others, I think Lesley Roach as Rhoda is adorable in the film, and perfect in the key scenes she is in. Her last role was in 1976, but she was in a ton of stuff starting in 1966. She appears to have enough of a career that it’s odd that she stopped. But then, child actors often remain such and don’t make the leap to adult roles. Her name stands out because there was a Roach family locally that were family friends for a while when I was little. It appears that she and Kay have remained connected, or become reconnected. Here’s little clip of her playing a 9 year old when she was 16. I see that was 1971, which means she was closer to Jack Wild’s age than to the age of Tracy Hyde or Mark Lester. She tended to look as young or younger.

Of course, I’m going by IMDB, for film and TV roles. Any given actor could have gone on to do stage work. Camille Davis is listed with Melody as her first role, then with four more roles, all in 1982. She seemed older and more mature than some of the others, but she was “the big one” after all.

I took a big break with this unfinished, so I hope I didn’t lose the thread and end up sounding incoherent. The other kids, including Kay as Peggy, did a lot to help make the movie as great as it is. It’s just a shame it did so poorly in most markets.

I forgot to note that you hear Peggy’s last name not once, but twice in the movie. When Ornshaw is trying to get rid of Melody after the Latin punishment, before Daniel comes out, knowing full well why she is there, among other things he says: “Is old Swailscroft
waiting for you, is she?” That’s actually cleared than at the dance, but originally I had no clue who he meant.

Update:
The correct spelling may be Swailescroft. You never know what’s going to happen in something like a transcript. Both are out there, anyway. In either case, it doesn’t seem to be a real surname, so Google returns limited results. Kay seems to be involved in a Facebook group for Melody fans, which is cool.

Quaint Is The Word

When I wrote this post, I forgot that one of the thoughts I have now and then is how quaint things from now will seem to us in the future, just as things from just a couple years ago – you know, like 1980 or so – can seem quaint now.

So if it makes you feel better about how things are now, think about how quaint or dated things from now will seem in just a couple years, for instance, looking back from 2040, when I’ll be almost 60. Yeah, 60. If 80 is the new 60.

The Orville Episode 11

I was completely convinced through much of the episode that Gordon would find out that Laura was a distant ancestor of his. They’re much too subtle for that. Nicely done. I was super impressed with Leighton Meester.

I kept thinking “I’m from Iowa. I only work in space.”

Back to the Twilight Zone moment: If the photo with Gordon had somehow been on the phone.

The nicotine addiction subplot was a riot. Tobacco may make me deathly sick, and may be the reason I was sickly before they gave me gamma globulin before I reached elementary school age, and may be the reason my brain phased in and out during school, and may be the reason I got super deathly sick when I was 16 1/2 through the rest of school, and so forth, but I still appreciate the humor and sympathize with the cravings.

I was never clear on why we were transporting the contents of a 400 year old time capsule from Earth to another planet.

I believe I have touched upon the concept of entangled lives and the influence people have on each other here. It’s cool that the show demonstrated it so well. That’s also why there’d be so many ramifications of “going back and changing things based on what we know now.” It’s going to be a dramatically different timeline, even for a minor change, and you might have no conception what would be different. For instance: My parents stay together. That completely eliminates my youngest brother. It eliminates his three kids and leaves his cool wife and her son my brother adopted in other hands. It changes the lives of my stepmother and stepsisters, with us never even knowing them. It would change me completely. In my twenties, I had an odd sort of a delayed meltdown over my parents splitting up. My father left just before I turned 9 and the divorce was final well after I turned 10. It was arguably for the best, but obviously to have not happened, things would already have been different, so there you go.

It’s kind of a thought provoking episode, in terms of how we are remembered, or not, how we interact and affect each other, and how we change but stay the same over the years and centuries.

The Man of the Hills Waits Here

Another fun music topic is misheard lyrics, which was much more common for me when I was young. I still sometimes intentionally sing the wrong words to Bohemian Rhapsody. The algebra has the devil put aside for me. Yeah, that part. And as a side note, what a legacy that is. One song, bringing unbridled joy to generations. (The eldest stood in the door and listened/sang with me as I played it just now.)

A much more obscure song with an amusing, weird misheard line is Ma Belle Ami, by the Tee Set. (I forgot they were dutch, and for some reason had it in my head that they were Irish. More shocking green than Shocking Blue? But nope, I was wrong.) Great song, which for some reason I connect with my older brother, and with Smile a Little Smile for Me by The Flying Machine (also not Irish – thought I might have been confusing the two bands). Probably a matter of having heard them in his company when I was young, and them having been current in the same basic timeframe.

When I was young, initially and for some amount of time afterward, I heard “the man after him waits here” as “the man of the hills waits here.” In retrospect, that’s a riot. Even more so because I now associate the misheard line with Firefly. There’s an episode where River and Simon disappear, taken by hill people. To this day we joke “it was the best day ever, no hill people required.” Or hill folk, as Jayne says in the actual quote where he’s pretending to read Simon’s diary.

Beware the man of the hills! He waits here, ready to kidnap you! I really don’t know what my ears were thinking. But then, I was young enough that “the man after him…” would have made no more sense than “the man of the hills…”

Not Quite 11 Years Old In 1971 But…

Brits being unable to identify the vagina seems like it fits with the innocence depicted in Melody. Other details in there too, although Chef would be proud that they know where to find the clitoris.

Not that everyone in Melody is completely innocent, given the strong presence of girly magazines and nude pictures, even if Daniel having one was completely innocent of any sexual connotations. The boys, especially Ornshaw, weren’t entirely innocent when trying to sneak at least one of them into the girly show. It’s just that they are all still on the edge of childhood and being in love doesn’t make them think “hey, let’s get naked together.” Give them a couple years, if they’re still able to see each other and he still loves her for more than a couple weeks of sixth year.

Of course, given that these days everyone calls the vulva a vagina, maybe it’s not just the Brits who are confused.