I got up early (3am) so I could grade. Instead of pulling an all-nighter I went to bed at midnight (early for me!) and decided to get a couple hours of rest and then work. I awoke, showered, checked email, and got distracted. I found KittyBot, for example, a harmless mecha-sci-fi web-comic in what one often calls “manga” style, though one should remember that “manga” is the medium, not the genre or style, but we still mean big eyes and the like. Little Japan-Fetish stuff. I found it via Questionable Content, one of my daily (but for the weekends!) strips. It won’t hold my attention for long but it did hold it long enough to keep me from my work. And then I graded and sorted and graded and packed things up and caught the 5:52 #38 to campus in the dark, chilly morn.
I taught and on my way back up I encountered Kjerstin and William and even though Kjerstin soon departed to places distant to finish an essay or report or some sort of text, and she looked exhausted (evidently William snored last night), William and chatted for several more hours — terrorism, fundamentalism, Christian radio, fundie-evangelical-jewish alliances, you name it — until we were both tired and dehydrated and we both needed to be downtown. We walked over the hill and down State Street until The Chocolate Shoppe, and we chatted some more about a paper he’s finishing and preparing to present on a dead Dane, Nielsen or such, a rare “conservative” member of the “intelligentsia” ca. 1900, who, once rejected from the club, started blaming the Jews for everything.
I went on to Fair Trade and listened to the Amelie soundtrack and other such things while writing other material and consuming my coffee an fritter. I bussed home, chatted with friends, and made a last-minute trip to the co-op for pita bread (dinner) and chocolate milk (dessert).
I have comics to read. Joss Whedon has finally taken over Runaways, one of the best Marvel monthly titles. “Alpha Flight” has been resurrected as “Omega Flight,” but the title has been reduced to a limited series and won’t last long. DC is approaching the end of 52; Week 48 has appeared on the stands. But I set aside comics this evening for TV, and not of the broadcast variety …
… when I went into Fair Trade during Spring Break the barista in charge, the shorter, chubby guy with the lively and friendly personality asked whether I’d see the new Doctor Who — he was responsible for bringing in and playing the show’s soundtrack — and I admitted that I hadn’t. This morning, however, I acquired episodes 1 and 2 and this evening I viewed them, and all I can say, folks, is wow.
I’ve grown to like David Tennant, though I know he rubs some folks the wrong way. There’s a goofiness to him and exaggeration that’s a bit clownish without the melancholy masquerade the real painted faces and red ball noses are supposed to give us. But I’ve grown to like him. He doesn’t mope and he doesn’t — yet — preach. And Martha Jones. Ah, Martha, the new companion. She rocks, to put it succinctly. She has as much or more curiosity than Rose, and while Rose eventually (2nd season) developed a childlike “folk wisdom” — she was at times the Doctor’s conscience — Martha is the curious type who asks smart questions. She’s a medical student, she’s at times out of her element, but she’s a self-conscious force of nature. And in the 2nd episode Shakespeare dedicates a sonnet to her.
Saturday night Wisconsin Public TV played the first two episodes of the Eccleston Doctor Who, so I rewatched those. Great stuff, really. — So that’s your “Doctor Who Confidential.”
Now: Stargate SG-1. Finishing (or continuing) “P” is an option, but I’m tired so I’ll leave that for later. I’m in the middle of PJ Harvey at this point.
