The thing about Shin Godzilla is that everything about the design fucks so hard and it’s a fascinatingly political movie as well, with Godzilla barely even on screen. It’s simultaneously a radical departure and perfect redesign that feels true to the heart of Godzilla as a concept and a design. The thing is there’s no reason why the USA Godzilla couldn’t have gotten just as weird with it, but no one in that project was willing to push past the lowest common denominator and maximum profitability. So we never got to see the absolute fucking nightmare fuel sequel but we got three passionaless and lackluster USA movies. I need another real freak to get into the kaiju genre. Don’t say Pacific Rim either, you know darn well that’s not what I mean. Shin Godzilla is the fuckin Cronenberg of the kaiju monsters, I need a freak like that.
if your vacation destination is not some dark and gloomy castle that inhabits a sexy looking vampire and which I can wear a long white gown where I search the halls than is it even worth using pto
funniest thing about the thing (1982) is that the titular thing is both a master manipulator who can perfectly replicate anyone but also a big bundle of nerves who flips out and starts screaming and turning into 5000 meat parts at once the INSTANT it’s found out
like at one point the thing replicates a guy who has a heart condition, promptly has a heart attack, and then gets so freaked out by the defibrillator it starts biting people
the thing is a master actor who is absolutely awful at improv and the show keeps going wrong
learning about the humanities and sciences side by side will do crazy things to your brain thats why they want you to pay all your money to get a shitty business degree . t.o limit your power. so instead it is your duty to read as many wikipedia pages as you can
and when julia de burgos said “the sea, the true sea, almost mine now” and when saadi youssef said “but to the sea, to this sea, i return” and derek walcott said “you want to know my history? ask the sea.”
and when hermann broch said “those who live by the sea can hardly form a single thought of which the sea would not be part,” and when keri hulme said “I know about me. I am the moons sister, a tidal child stranded on land. the sea always in my ear, a surf of eternal discontent in my blood,” and iain pears said “being by the sea is like a permanent baptism; the light and air hypnotizes, and your soul is washed by vastness.”
and when marguerite duras said “there is one thing i am good at, and that’s looking at the sea” and when agnès varda said “it’s important to always be by the sea. the sea is the element of love”
when albert camus said “the sea; i didnt lose myself in it. i found myself in it” and when sylvia plath said “if i lived by the sea i would never be really sad” and when hozier said “love, when the sea rises to meet us” and when an anonymous writer said “and yet my heart wanders away, my soul roams with the sea” and when homer said “I’d rather die at sea”
and when e e cummings said “for whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it’s always ourselves we find in the sea” and when john masefield said “i must go down to the seas again for the call of the running tide is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied”
and when albert camus said “I will have always loved the sea. it will have always made everything peaceful inside me” and when chelsea wolfe said “I never was a child I was pulled right out of the sea and the salt, it never left my body” and when virginia woolf said “I live; I die; the sea comes over me; the blue that lasts” and when emily dickinson said “say, sea, take me!”
and when Isak Dinesen said “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.”
Years ago back when I worked in cubicle land, we were hiring junior software developers. They didn’t have to have a ton of experience, just a willingness to learn, and some demonstration of their software skills. Like: show me a program you wrote (any language) or a web site you designed. Anything.
And there was this one guy I talked with who seemed super sharp, but had virtually zero experience writing software. When it came time to do the show-n-tell part of the interview he whips out his laptop, brings up a website, and spins it around to show me what he made.
A website of tiny ceramic frogs.
Not for sale. Just… all these ceramic frogs, organized into categories. Frogs on bicycles, frogs with hats, frogs sitting on lily pads. It was a virtual museum of ceramic frogs in web form.
I scrolled through his online collection of frogs, slightly baffled.
“This is your website?” I asked finally.
“Yep!”
“You coded this yourself?” I popped into view-source mode and poked around some incredibly well-formatted, well-commented html. I nodded slowly. This guy was meticulous.
“Yep!”
“So… where’d all the frogs come from?”
“I made those too,” he says, beaming.
And while I’m processing this he rummages in his bag and pulls out a little ceramic frog working at a computer terminal. He places it on the table before us, next to the laptop.
“And THIS one,” he says, “I made for you! As a thank you for the interview.”
It was adorable. I hired him on the spot. I mean, why not? Worst case he’d wash out in 90 days and we’d hire somebody else. He turned out to be one of the best developers on our team.
And yes, his cubicle was loaded with ceramic frogs.
