Chapter 13 - I caught “Priss” in a previous chapter but just realized that J.R. Isadore, the chickenhead is J.F. Sebastian. This is puzzling, but actually Isadore makes more sense than Sebastian. Sebastian is an odd mix of chess, genetic engineer, and chickenhead. That early SciFi is valuable on Mars, delivered to the black market by drone ships, is really pretty funny on Dick’s part. At least he hasn’t named himself as an author famous in the future. Would have been tempting to have mentioned some other author he didn’t like as being loathed.
Also, William Sanderson did a splendid job of playing JR/JF. While I think the lack of empathy is better and more consistent than the childishness as a trait for the replicants, I can see how this works better visually. Though could someone without empathy be a successful opera singer? I guess if you sing the right notes and copy what other performers have done you could manage, but could you excel?
Chapter 16 - P162 How could the authorities possibly have so much detailed inside info on the replicants? The movie made more sense in this regard. That Priss and Rachel should look the same is interesting. I wonder if they considered having one actor play both parts? Now that would have been interesting.
Also interesting that they changed the built-in defect from lack of empathy (inability to “fuse”) to short lifespan. The short lifespan doesn’t really make that much sense when you consider that they are supposed to be a capital investment. And that goes to the slavery aspect which I haven’t begun to think about. If they can’t breed you would want your replicant to at least have a long lifespan. Would people want a replicant slave that was more intelligent? Maybe. They would actually be more useful on Earth to help the ant and chickenheads.
The seduction is completely different -- and, surprisingly, less problematic (rapey). Though the logic of it from the perspective of the other bladerunner is a mystery to me and possibly more misogynistic. Especially since in the book there is the odd wife. Who now I think of it, reminds me just a bit of Joi. Though Joi is much more helpful and supportive. Are there any other human women in the book?
Chapter 17 - p174 - So I was wrong about the short lifespan being different, Rachel is only two years old and with an expected two more years. But she isn’t surprised at being a replicant the way she is in the movie. And she’s slept with other hunters including the only other one we know. That’s an interesting twist.
Also, Deckard saying, after sleeping with her once, that he would ditch his wife and marry her if he could, tells us something about the hot mess that was Philip K. Dick. What were his fourth and fifth wives thinking? Reading his bio in Wiki makes me reconsider what we are told here about Deckard's wife.
P190 Isn’t “JR’s” experience here a depiction of depression? And Mercer is the “higher power” needed to help lift you out. And Dick is getting to the core of religious belief here in that Mercerism being proved to be a hoax isn’t significant to the people who need/use it to survive.
Chapter 19 - Hadn’t expected Mercer to intervene. I think I need to re-read the Wiki bio. There’s more “faith” here than doubt about the nature of reality. I guess that paranormal stuff toward the end of his life was not completely new.
Also, the “climactic confrontation” was a bit of a let down. The replicants seemed helpless and Deckard was completely in control.
I have no idea what I’m going to find in the last chapter.
Chapters. They snuck in several small ones. Even stranger. Didn’t expect to go even deeper into the Mercer area.
I have to say the movie did a better job of telling a satisfying story. Obviously Dick doesn’t care much about that. How was Rachel so well informed about the other replicants? How could she have known what Deckard did? Would she have tried to kill him if she had gone along on the raid? What did Dick think of the screenplay? They borrowed a couple ideas and some dialog, but then went off and invented a largely unrelated story. Maybe it’s just as well he died before it came out.
The book replicants were cruel, though I guess that goes with the lack of empathy or only being a couple years old. The new Blade Runner film captured this aspect better. Iran is probably the least interesting character in the book, and the one I least understand.
Mercerism makes sense as a crafted religion to make people blend better socially. Similar to aspects of Brave New World. But Dick seems to want us to believe that Mercer is real or at least that he is real for Deckard. Is he also arguing that replicants are incapable of religious feeling? In the new film, there is a near religious aspect to the cult around the child. Is it ever said how long replicants are living now? And I wonder if they switched from Rosen to Tyrell so it would sound less Jewish?
I'm glad I read this but for me the movie will always be the real thing.
Jean Jaurès
Reflections on Violence by Georges Sorel
Due to a tragic beverage accident, there will be no more of Reflections on Violence until my copy of the book dries out and I can un-stick the pages. (This could well be the first time a copy of Reflections and an issue of Dwell magazine have been damaged in the same incident.) This delay doesn't especially bother me as I really wanted to talk about Jean Jaurès.
By chance, I just ran into an article about Jean Jaurès and his assassination at the start of the Great War. I have to say I tend to prefer Jaurès to Sorel in what little I've read. And what does Sorel mean by,
"Jaurès, who was very much mixed up in all the ups and downs of Dreyfusim, had rapidly judged the mentality of the upper middle class, into which he had not yet penetrated"
Jaurès was clearly haute-bourgeois. He had admirals in the family, for God's sake. I'm tempted to switch to a book about Jaurès, if I can find a good one. His philosophical background and his pacifism appeal to me, but then I suppose that's because I'm a timid middle class boy.
I do wonder what Sorel said at the time of Jaurès' assassination. I'm sure he was in favor of war. And the claims that Russia assisted the election of Poincare sound awfully familiar. History is so interesting.
Blade Runner 2049
The original Blade Runner is one of my favorite films. It's the movie I probably know best, line for line and scene by scene, which is why I had reservations about seeing this sequel.
I finally saw it at the multiplex closest to me (the Metreon, which I've written about before). By chance, I picked the 6:30pm showing which was in theater 13, which happens to be the new Dolby Cinema. If I had known this was an option I would have actively selected it, but my online movie guide doesn't distinguish the Dolby Cinema the way it does IMAX. So there I was in a theater with the most comfortable seats, probably the best screen, and most amazing sound watching a film that was so much more polished and perfect than the original... and by the end I just wanted to see the original in that venue.
What does it mean that Ridley Scott has been involved in the recent sequels to what I believe are his two best films -- Alien and Blade Runner -- and yet neither film comes close to recreating the magic of the original. (And here I hear the words of Deckard's boss at the beginning of the film coaxing, and then compelling him to return to his Blade Runner job,
Deckard: I don't work here anymore. Give it to Holden, he's good.
Bryant: I did. He can breathe okay as long as nobody unplugs him. He's not good enough, not good as you. I need you, Deck. This is a bad one, the worst yet. I need the old Blade Runner, I need your magic.)
But I would love to hear that Vangelis soundtrack in this new theater.
I hate to say this, because Joss Whedon is enough of an ego maniac as it is, but he probably would have been a better choice to have taken on this project. Firefly had the same, gritty, dirty, believable look and feel at the original Blade Runner. He would have needed to work with an exceptional cinematographer, visual artist, and composer... He probably would have botched it, too.
The android/AI/slavery theme is probably the best thing in the new film, but since I haven't seen other recent films that deal with this subject, I don't know how original or profound this take is. It worked for me mostly because of my recent reading of Absalom! Absalom!
Blade Runner
I re-watched my VHS tape copy of Blade Runner. A friend -- we were planning on seeing the new film together -- had just watched one of the more recent edits and had complained about how dark it was. My tape version was low-res, dark, smokey, and, of course, very wet -- the essence of Ridley Scott's style at that time. It was so good.
Yes, there are sloppy details you just have to ignore, but the look and sound and feel of the original just works so much better for me than the recent film did. Also, I realized last night, the story is nice and simple. Deckard is tasked with hunting down four replicants and we follow his progress with that. At the same time we are following the replicant's efforts to get to their maker, Tyrell. These two simple stories cut back and forth. Rachel, the sixth replicant, becomes the wildcard and new focus of Deckard's life, and of the film, by the middle, and this is even more true at the end.
This was one of the first things Sean Young (Rachel) was in, and she instantly had a reputation for being "difficult" which works perfectly for this character. Was that just lucky casting or were they looking for someone who was a bit of a bitch?
I also like that the film sticks to central LA rather than roaming all over the west. I figure the flame belching towers of the opening are supposed to be Torrance, so I think that's as far south as the film goes and most of it is set downtown. And of course the film gets extra credit for using the Bradbury Building as a shooting location.
The heart of the film is the relationship between humans and replicants. (I don't think the film is as effective if Deckard is a replicant. Plus, that would make him a really shitty replicant, given how both Leon and Roy hand him his ass.) The crucial, semi-rape scene in the first film has an echo in the semi-three-way of the new film with replicants interacting with an AI (Joi). But this is, while interesting, a little confusing since aren't replicants really just "wet" AIs? The notion of a replicant "needing" the company of an AI is certainly interesting. And what happens with Deckard's dog in the new film? We have no idea.
"... I'll tell you about my weekend." (Extreme violence)
Another Blade Runner reference. Honestly it wasn't that bad. I'm not on a ventilator for example.
The Art & Soul Festival in Oakland was a little smaller in area -- not a bad thing for us -- and the performance stages were shifted around this year. I didn't hear as much music as in the past. (Last year there was a great set by Sheila E and the entire Escovedo family including her dad, who was on stage celebrating his 80th birthday. I just happened to be sorting the back stage area when they were performing -- just as I just happened to be working the center of the audience area for Kelly Clarkson's set at Summerthing and for Emmylou Harris's set at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass. It could happen.)
But this year my focus is working the food vendors, and most of the food vendors were a street over on Sunday, so I didn't hear much, but I did pretty much stay on top of the vendors trash sorting needs.
Let's go back and start with Saturday. Who better to assign to sort the BBQ competition area than the vegetarian? Actually this was not an accident or mistake, a block lined with semi-professional BBQers was the obvious place for me, because they required the most help since -- compared with the usual vendors who don't understand and don't really care about sorting their waste -- these guys had no fucking clue.
We are supposed to do "education" as well as divert waste, but, having done this now for over eight years, I know educating vendors is like strangers trying to educate toddlers on good manners. "Don't throw the latex gloves in with the compost" is translated in their heads (I can see it happening) to "Don't let the people in green shirts see you throw gloves into the compost." They invariably save up the worst shit and either drop it off at one of our stations just as they are leaving or else leave it semi-hidden behind where they were set-up. It's like Easter in hell trying to finding where they are keeping the stuff we will eventually need to sort. That's the professional vendors, the people and organizations who enter festival BBQ competitions are worse.
For every BBQ vendor at an event there is a certain amount of wasted meat. Maybe it wasn't prepared correctly, maybe the health inspector called them on some violation, maybe they just over estimated demand -- whatever the reason, lots of cooked meat goes into the trash (almost never into the compost where it belongs) and we have to fish it out. In addition to the meat, there's also bones and a surprising abundance of viscera. Cooked meat is at least easy to handle, but viscera is a slimy mess and is inevitably at the bottom of any bag it's placed in -- so it's the first thing to fall out if the bag tears. (I'm not speculating about this.) So that's the norm with one or maybe two BBQ vendors at an event. On Saturday there was a block lined -- both sides of the street -- with BBQ vendors, each with their own contribution of viscera and bones and left over cooked meat. Damien Hirst could have built a whole heard of mutant cattle and pigs with the meat that passed through my hands.
On Sunday I was a block away working two clusters of regular food vendors separated by almost a block of the usual street fair non-food booths. This worked fine until the end when I had to choose the busier cluster to focus on and leave the other area to others. The area I chose also had the busiest trash stations for the public, so I kept them sorted and eventually closed them down (with everything sorted) while making forays behind the vendor booths to find and retrieve the black bags of everything-mixed-together they inevitably leave us.
About black bags. I was very wrong before when I compared vendors to toddlers, they are really more like under 12 month infants in that if they put something inside a black bag so you can't see it, they think it's now gone. If a vendor ever really did sort their trash properly into a black bag, we would still have to open up the bag because we can't see what's inside. So I grab the black bags and drag them to one of our compost/landfill/recycling stations and sort the bags into those bags. Usually I can dump the black bag into the landfill container and fish out what doesn't belong. The black bag itself is then added to the landfill. Everything ends up in the proper bag which, when full, I mark with my initial so that when it is hauled to the dumpsters our people know it can be tossed -- or emptied in the case of recycling -- into the proper dumpster with no further sorting.
More than you wanted to know about waste diversion.
"Home Again, Home Again Jiggity Jig"
After eight hours of this on Sunday (15 hours over the weekend), I arrived home around 9pm and had to take out the trash and recycling for my building. This shouldn't have been a problem except that someone moved out at the beginning of last week which means our toters were full to overflowing. The landfill toter was too heavy for me to pull up the steps -- I made it up two steps before realizing this wasn't going to work. So I took it back down and had to empty out a bag full of trash to get it light enough to pull up our stairs. I can't tell you how much I hate sorting through the trash of the residents of my building. Most of what is in the landfill shouldn't be there, but they are as bad as the food vendors as far as paying attention to instructions.
Here's the funny part: One of the things I pulled out of the landfill was a nice case full of a virtually new, and very elaborate, BBQ set -- all the tongs and knives and brushes and specially made thingys you can imagine. And heavy, too. I put a "Free" sign on it and left it where our contractors can see it. A waste diverter's work is never done.
You probably think that's it. That that is the reason I (as Leon) am primed for extreme violence. Not quite.
FUBAR
Here's the way it's supposed to work: I drag the large toters of landfill and recycling up to the alley on Sunday night. On Monday morning, usually between 5 and 6am, guys from Recology race around our alley collecting our toters and similar toters from three other buildings. They then empty the toters into their giant truck out on the street (with the charming cable cars passing them up and down the hill) and return empty toters to more or less where they picked them up -- but not the same toters because they rotate them to save themselves a trip (think about it). This is what I was expecting to happen this morning and I set my alarm so that I could fetch the empty toters back down into the laundry room before the contractors started parking their cars and trucks in the alley. None of that happened this morning.
First I realized that it was 7am and I hadn't heard the Recology symphony in the alley. I went out to confirm I hadn't slept through it (as I often do, but usually not when the seismic contractors are part of the picture) -- the toters were still full. I went back to bed. Next I heard the distinctive beeping of the porta-potty pumper truck backing down the alley toward our building. This was an unexpected piece of bad news as I hadn't expected them until Wednesday.
This is why it's generally a bad idea to generalize from a single sample. For Phase 1 they serviced the porta-potty on Wednesday so I assumed that was the norm for this neighborhood. Instead (generalizing from a sample of two) I now think they make a first service call three days after installing the porta-potty so they can judge how much it's getting used.
In any case, I went out in the alley (again) to talk to the guy, first because I was concerned he would be blocking the alley when Recology finally showed up, but also because I assumed (correctly) that he would not have a power tool to undo the bolts our contractor is using (this time?) to secure the porta-potty over night. My plan had been to charge up my driver Tuesday night so I could remove the bolts if necessary. Even when you foresee a problem and devise a back-up plan, if your timing is off you're still screwed -- though not me personally in this case.
So I went back to bed, again, only to hear another vehicle in the alley. The electrician arrived early to beat the commute traffic. I explained the situation to him and staged him in one of the few street parking places out by the cable cars. Still not having noticed the pattern, I got into bed one final time before I had to get up again to deal with another contractor vehicle. This time two guys with very little English in a really nice car. The best I could come up with was to pull all four toters at my the end of the alley out to near the middle and then let him back in again to the end. (Neurosurgeons could learn a thing from the care this guy took backing his ride between the plants on either side of our narrow alley, with scaffolding on one side.)
When Recology finally did arrive, the guy with the nice ride had to pull forward again so I could drag in our toters and place our neighbor's toters next to the porta-potty where they had originally been. Then all I had to do was return the bag of trash to the landfill toter and open all the doors, turn on the lights, and turn off the alarm for the contractors.
The other owners in our HOA are always saying they don't know what they would do without me, but they really have no idea.
And yet, a very good day
Given how my day started you might think today was a bad day for me, but no. This is also the anniversary of my mother's death, so I went out to Lincoln Park and sat on the bench -- where my mother's ashes fell out of their container... whoops -- overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. Some foreign tourists arrived at almost the same time I did and were snapping photos. Since they hung around for longer than the usual quick snapshot, I volunteered the information that this was a good place to spot hawks. I even pointed out where they tended to hunt. Less than a minute after the tourists drove off two hawks appeared exactly where I had pointed. I would have been viewed as a sage of the natural world if only they had been more patient.
Fog
For years I've thought that San Francisco needed a special language for fog -- like the Eskimo language for snow. Today, for whatever reason, the terminology came to me.
In the spirit of the Emperor Norton (I may have to concoct a uniform) I HEREBY DECREE that fog passing entirely over the towers of the bridge will now be called SOPRANO fog; fog hiding the tops of the towers but not the deck, is ALTO fog; fog covering the deck but not the top of the towers, or approaching the water, is TENOR fog; and fog passing entirely under the deck is BARITONE fog. There will, obviously, also be medleys when these fog conditions overlap.
This decree will be enforced by the spirits of Bummer and Lazarus.
Another world
The essence of both In Search of Lost Time and Parade's End is that the world that was, was gone forever after the Great War, and it's hard to argue with that. A friend of mine recently posted an image from Czechoslovakia from 1927 that, along with that National Geographic with photos from 1937 or 1938 I've alluded to before, makes the same argument for the 2nd World War.
When we read these books (or A Nervous Splendor) we long for the imagined past just as National Socialists and Communists longed for an imagined future. But just as Michel Foucault was constrained in his Marxist enthusiasm by his forbidden homosexuality, I, being white and male and, at least nominally, protestant, when viewing the past reject it because, as a vegetarian, there would be almost nothing for me to eat.
