As is generally well known at this point, once my house was mine alone (and my kids), I started taking great strides – well, as many as I could afford on a tight budget – to make the place my own in a way it hadn’t been before. When I was married, there was a kind of clenched-teeth agreement (or at least it seemed that way to me) that, since I wasn’t going to suddenly become a different person and shed all of my interests and hobbies, those interests and hobbies were not to be visible beyond the confines of the room I was graciously granted as a sort of man cave. I never really worked out what was acceptable as decor in the rest of the house, because it quickly became a hoarder’s paradise. (And to be fair: we both contributed to that.) Once she was no longer in the house, I pretty much reversed that, not so much as an act of rebellion as an act of preserving my sanity in the early post-divorce days: once properly cleaned up, the house just seemed big and empty. A few lucky on-sale Hobby Lobby finds let me put my true colors on the walls.
When the Art Of Atari Poster Book came out, and I figured out Wal-Mart had frames all but ready-made for prints of that size for five bucks, well, things just kind of went from there.
Oh, and don’t forget the handful of arcade marquees that weren’t donated to Arkadia Retrocade.
How will all of this play out in Utah, where I’ll likely go from being a homeowner to a renter who’s forbidden to drive a nail into the wall? Believe it or not, there’s a solution in hand for this problem. I’ll cover that in a future post. Until then…all of my smaller wall hangings are ready to be hung on another wall.
Some further late-night packening ensued last night, and just as quickly abated because I was kidless and had an opportunity to actually sleep. But let’s look, won’t you?
Sci-Fi reference paperbacks (small): “If I see further,” Isaac Newton is often paraphrased as saying, “it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants.” What you see here is just a very small portion of a pretty healthy selection of non-fiction reference books concerning the making of fictional universes, along with critiques and so on. These have been, and continue to be, incredibly valuable resources that inform my own writings on these very shows and movies. And then there’s irascible-but-not-quite-lovable Harlan Ellison’s two groundbreaking volumes of television critique, both very well-worn. (In case you can’t tell, all of these books have been read and re-read to death.)
These are just the small-format paperbacks. There’s a lot more where these came from. A lot. A site like this doesn’t spring up, unbidden, out of nowhere – it has a heap of source material.
Hopefully you’re enjoying this trip through, if nothing else, my bookshelves.
Moving time. I hate it. I utterly hate it. I hate it with the white hot intensity of a collapsing supernova. It’s also an outstanding time to hit the pause button on your life and take stock of what you value, or have valued, or what you no longer value.
I’ll admit that I’ve been dragging my ass on this. I go to Utah in early-to-mid June to be with my kids and just kind of start over from scratch. I’m three days away from the end of March. I have April and May to get everything packed, sell the house, and get the hell out of dodge.
I wish I could be like Obi there. But I don’t have the luxury. Read More
Tonight was the first time in over two weeks that the kids weren’t over and I had the place to myself. I came home and promptly crashed on the couch after several days of only 1-3 hours of uninterrupted sleep per night.
Now here’s where it gets weird. Read More
I imagine you’re wondering why I’ve called all of you here. Read More
C: Daddy, get down!
C: GET DOWN!
ME: You mean get down from my chair, or get down and get funky?
[ thoughtful pause ]
C: Get down and get funky, daddy. Read More
So for Halloween this year, I gradually accumulated the pieces I’d need for a truly disturbing outfit. Not some horrific character you’ve seen in a movie or on TV, not someone from comics or literature, but…me. 180-proof, undistilled me.
E: Hey dad, you want to hear me recite the Preamble to the Constitution?
E: [recites the Preamble word-for-word, only a little bit haltingly]
E: Did I get it right?
ME: Yeah you did. I’m gonna cast a write-in vote for you to be president in a few years.
ME: I can already tell you’ve read more of the Constitution than the guy who’s there now.