Osvaldo Golijov

Maybe Alien 3 is an allegory concerning AIDS. The film does waste the chops of several thespians of rank. It isn't bad, though.

The Scar is rumbling to its conclusion. I think I will then read The Skating Rink by Bolano or some Iain Banks that I bought this week. It will likely then be a shift back to Mieville.

I would go out tonight. but I haven't got a stitch to wear

The week has unfolded  to witness my surviving an acute sinus meltdown and then proceed through the remainder of my holiday with nary a complaint. I read Personal days by Ed Park on Monday and it enjoyed it, which translates into I really liked the final third of the novel. the preceding elements struck me as a collection of workplace aphorisms, mourning the death of irony and grimly oblivious to what constitutes actual labor.
You know,I love Great McGinity. I know that Sturges made better films, Sullivan's Travels and The Lady Eve, but there is something visceral and eternal about that fable. I am looking forward to the new Regina Spektor album. If you haven't noticed, I am trying to distract myself from summer away from soccer.
The China Mieville revolution continues. I am nearly finished with my third novel of his this month and will likely read three more. That said, I find the speculative bend growing weedy. Joel has proffered hope on the samizdat front and lends purpose to things. For those interested in art films on horrible situations, we have seen a pair of French films detailing the troubles in Africa: White Material and Johnny Mad Dog are both incredible films but exact quite a price form the viewer. 

Here's To You, West Ham

It has proved to be an exciting weekend. Well, in my limited perspective anyway. The play-in game for the third and final promotion to the Premier League took place earlier at Wembley. It was a fine match and though I wanted Blackpool to advance, it wasn't to be. The biggest stage on the planet needs Ian Holloway.

I completed Perdido Street Station this week and have nearly completed Mieville's The City and the City. I truly loved the former but found second to be an uncomfortable inversion of the procedural novel. There aspects close to home which also render this problematic.

Bozhe Moi

We didn't win the title today. Suppositions flow untethered. I did complete Mogoliad.

New Crobuzon

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"Perhaps we think up our own destinies, and so in a sense deserve whatever happens to us, for not having had the wit to imagine something better.”
―
Iain Banks
　 Such as been the strange terrain of my latest endeavor: a mumbling meander through the obscure thickets of Banks and Mieville, with a little jolly time with Golden Horde on the side. A Song of Stone, Perdido Street Station and Neal Stephenson's ensemble writing project Mongoliad have been the order of rule over the last few weeks. China Mieville is for real