Last time my sister and brother-in-law were here (exactly a year ago) I played Bill and Ben, the Flowerpot Men on yootoob: yes, although the stretch of time has been great we are fond of them still, and in fact say, "weeeeeeeed," at the drop of a hat. My brother-in-law said, "ZOMG you must've been STARVED for entertainment," which earned him a stinky look from my sister, who promptly grilled him on HIS childhood memories and pulled up a hoary clip in illustration.
I made her watch the Little Big Planet trailer, as, to me, it seems like it's in a straight line from Bill and Ben (a very long line, true). I don't have a console, but nevertheless have poked LBP every so often to see what was going on. It seems to be out, just, which is nice.
Today, however, I've been pondering* World of Goo, which reminds me of the faulty workings of my brain these days, which organ I try to beat into submission by sheer force of will. Everything is always interesting, even borkified things (sometimes they are even more interesting when broken as the cracks give glimpses of otherwise hidden cogs and gears). It's like each unit of thought is a goo ball, and there are not many goo balls available, and goo balls must stay connected to be of any use. If I run out of goo balls I just have to reset.
*I'm such an observer that it amuses me to watch, and it isn't like it goes on without me being aware of it. I'd by far rather have my capabilities back, but this is an adventure just as much as climbing Mount Everest or exploring Antarctica without modcons (where someone might observe the effect of thin air or suffer snowblindness). That makes me think of "The Worst Journey in the World," especially the part, for some reason, where Cherry-Garrard relates in passing that the cold killed the nerves in his teeth. I don't know why that particular part sticks out to me; it is an internal effect, though, I suppose, so would interest me. Another piece of a different book (and I can't remember which book), which was, I think, a writer's time spent in the country, is an observation of a very still frog. That is, what was once a frog - the reptile having been killed by a water bug which attached itself to the frog then injected poisons into it which liquified the insides, enabling digestion. As the author watched, the skin collapsed like a deflated balloon. That reminded me of my childhood, when my cousin Christopher and I, being science mad, spent all our time together (not much) poking around in the world, and accidentally caught something we had no understanding of. It was like a glue ball - a formless but self-motivated and muscular... thing... which we found in Pickering Creek, and which must've been the very same "water bug" creature as was observed consuming the frog. I've avoided learning more about it as it horrifies me (as do the wasps which paralyse caterpillars and lay eggs in them). Is that, though, more the usual way things function than otherwise? For instance toy manufacturers lay eggs in children by creating seductive advertisements. Yes, the entire organism isn't killed, however SOMETHING is killed.
Labels: Cogitation, Disjointed Thoughtlets
posted by
- 8:59 AM
Comments:
Nurse. What is Ms Therian doing with the Draino again?
Actually Os, I just but I follow - sometimes just observing something can expand to fill your whole world.
Last year I recall accidentally killing a large spider (accidentally hitting it hard with a brick when it statled me). I then spent ages and ages the next day watching the ants slowly, methodically taking it apart - a leg snipped and carried off here, a lump of somthing else here. It was like a cross between a a car scraping yard and a scene of small, impersonal horror from a Mad Max style film.
Actually Os, I just but I follow - sometimes just observing something can expand to fill your whole world.
Last year I recall accidentally killing a large spider (accidentally hitting it hard with a brick when it statled me). I then spent ages and ages the next day watching the ants slowly, methodically taking it apart - a leg snipped and carried off here, a lump of somthing else here. It was like a cross between a a car scraping yard and a scene of small, impersonal horror from a Mad Max style film.
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