Grief management

[wiseheart]

I felt a bit down due to yesterday's news, plus I had two hours between the end of work and the teachers' conference that ruined my otherwise half-free afternoon (and I only have two of those in the entire week!), so I decided to spend some money. It always helps.

So I treated myself to a decent meal in a nearby self-selving restaurant (the_wild_iris and rcfinch could give testimony that it's a good place indeed), and then I hit the bookshop next to it.

I had the good luck to find a beautiful edition of Brandbury's Martian Chronicles, a collection I've wished to read in original for ages. It wasn't exactly cheap, but then English books never are over here. I'm going to savour it, one tale a time, whenever I'll have the leisure to read undisturbed.

For that, I got to buy bad fanfic fairly cheap: the latest Star Trek movie was on sale. The two-disk edition with all the special features and extras cost me barely more than a movie ticket would have. So I bought it and watched it right away.

I might write a longer review eventually, so I'll say only this much: I hated it a lot less than I'd expected to hate it. Well, I still hate the new Uhura and how insignificant she was in the movie, I hated the really lame plot, the bad Tattooine-remake and the police motorcycles borrowed from the ill-remembered Galactica 1980, but the rest of it wasn't actually that bad.

Zachary Quinto was quite good as Spock, the Romulans were intriguing (liked Eric Bana), and Leonard Nimoy was simply awesome. I most likely won't become a fan of the new set of movies, but it was definitely better than any TNG-movie they forced down our throats.


Our choir is also starting to rise from the ashes. We've got quite a few new pieces this year, some of them very loverly.

Comments

[wiseheart.livejournal.com]

It's strange, though. I took a glimpse into that book, and while it's very good indeed, quite poetic in some places, I find I can't rediscover the absolute awe I felt when I first read the Martian Chronicles in summer camp at the age of 13. Granted, it was in Hungarian translation, so it must have been a vastly different experience, but still...

And I've realized that Bradbury can be pretty depressing, too. Okay, I already knew that. But now I discovered that he's sometimes not that easy to follow, either.