Fish-Slapping and Naval-Gazing Water Rabbits.

Do you know what happens when the Xbox red rings?

If, like me you own a houseful of adolescent males, initially you will be unaware that your worst fears are about to be realized. You might imagine mowed lawns, washed cars, movies rented, even in flights of pure fantasy, washing up done and folding put away.

Wrong.

When the Xbox red rings in a house full of adolescent males, the N64 comes out of retirement and those Mario Party songs you thought you would never have to listen to again, start repeating through the house. Did you think you’d never hear Snowboard Kids again? I did. Did you think if someone was twenty-five they were too old to laugh hysterically at Super Smash Brothers?

Wrong again.

When the homegrown spawn were small, one was an early riser. He was up with the sun every day. I could get up with him at 4am or 4.30am, or I could, as I did, teach him to make his breakfast cereal and come to my room where he could see a red and a green spot on the vcr buttons.

All he had to do was put in a video and press green.

Born into the techno generation, he’d learned the vcr manual by the time he was four and was rebuilding computers from the dump shop by ten, but in those early days he would put on his videos of Spot, Bananas in Pyjamas, Thomas the Tank Engine, or Wiggles. And he did. Over and over and over again.

To this day, if I hear the start music of any of those children’s shows, I develop a tremor and a facial tic.

There’s been talk this morning of reconnecting the SNES and Sega and if I hear Alex the Kid start I might jump off the roof.

So I watched some movies.

Michael Rennie was there The Day the Earth Stood Still, as we know, and not Keanu Reeves. Apart from grave concerns about a mother who leaves her first born in the care of a homeless stranger, I prefer it to the remake by millions. Except that there are few commonalities to compare, really. So I watched Michael Rennie save us all from ourselves, again.

Watched Berserk on and off; it can run for days and weeks without pause.

Watched Evil Dead, Dead by Dawn, and Army of Darkness. I love these three movies, as terrible as they are. They’re wonderful. [I loved Hercules, TLJ, too.]

Watched Dead Man. Just moving art, isn’t it? I love it. There are times I wish for colour, for the landscapes, but I’ll never get enough of this movie. It’s like a painting you hang on the wall for years and never tire of seeing.

Watched Reservoir Dogs, and Inglourious Basterds, and The Great Dictator.

Also watched All Quiet on the Western Front. I’ve never seen the 1930 original, I must. And a remake is in production for 2012. I wanted to move about after that, but ended up putting on Eric the Viking because AQotWF makes me so sad.

I will have to watch some more Python now and reaffirm the knowledge that no matter how bleak and hopeless the world looks, it is really just a big mass of total absurdity and nothing to be worried about. In any melting pot the dross floats to the top; the thick shit at the bottom gets burned; most people are blind men patting elephants and holding forth on the result; and interdependence is a dirty word when everyone is so damnably accomplished.

I have some kippers – it’s time to dance.

I read some reviews.

Reviewers need a big clap; it isn’t easy. It’s a role which will come to the fore more as the independence movement in digital fiction progresses. Those readers with real insight and the ability to summarize a book reliably for the wider audience will emerge with great power. All hail the powerful.

Meek, you will have to wait until you inherit the earth, I’m afraid.

I entered the giveaway at bibilotastic a while ago. That was exciting – I was trying to win an apple and some kindling. I posted my comment, noted my favourite Romanian poet and posted my entry off to the team. I’m still on tenterhooks. Who knows if I’ll win!

I doubt it. I never win anything.

In fact, centuries ago when I was born, the universe stamped me with the special mark it puts aside for those who are destined to sit, wizzened up in a cave with a hessian robe and hemorrhoids, contemplating navel fluff.

The universal powers said, “Don’t give that one nuthin! [Except in the 80s – it was a really great time to have been rich.] Wastes everything. Bastard!” Instead they made me a Scorpio water rabbit, and left me to think about humanity and its endlessly fascinating insanity.

Of course, the other navel gazers know my cave. It has the satellite dish, conservatory, and Gucci door mats. Have to look the part.

That’s all.  I need a Bex and a little lie down.

Then back to my dancing!

Lxx

About Letitia Coyne

Letitia Coyne is alive and well and living in Australia. She writes, paints, draws, sews, plays with old wooden furniture, revives jewellery and sings very loudly. When not doing any of the above, she watches endless movies, feeds multitudes of pets, wildlife freeloaders, and stray adolescents. Or sleeps.

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