David and I watch enough movies together that it makes sense to share a Netflix subscription. The nice thing about sharing a Netflix queue with someone with similar but not identical cinematic tastes is that it isn’t a burden to keep your queue full and you get to branch out a little bit. With the exception of Elfgate, I’d say it’s been a smashing success.
If you’re not a Netflix subscriber yourself, you should know that the general idea is that via an online interface, you maintain a queue of films you’d like to see. You can add and delete titles and rearrange the rest at any time. When it’s time for Netflix to mail you a film, they select whatever is the top entry at the time. Thus, having an empty queue is something you never want. This is my defense.
So I saw a particularly compelling trailer for a film you may have heard of called Touch the Sound, about a talented percussionist who is almost completely deaf. The music in the trailer is beautiful and enchanting. David and I had been racking our brains for movies to put in the queue, so it seemed like a good idea.
My blog entries have wound up in some crazy places on the internet and I feel too guilty about this post to not deliver it with a disclaimer: I’m sure this lady is very talented to have a documentary made about her and she’s probably a real inspiration. But despite my conviction that Malcolm Gladwell is a fascinating and flawless human being, if a full-length documentary came out about his life, chances are better than not that I’d skip it. In summary, this film was met with the caliber of enthusiasm my brother and I, as children, reserved for mush on a mountain.
I started this article with the hopes of working out a logical solution as, due to constraints on equipment and creativity, putting the film on in the background while doing something else was off the table. You can’t make two WoW addicts with two computers sacrifice one of them to watch something boring.
Luckily, my friends, this story has a happy ending. Yesterday I had the opportunity to put the film on for Sophie and Picasso while cleaning my apartment. After a half hour, my conscience was clear and I could get back to Azeroth. So the disaster is over, and now we await something better, namely….wait let me check the queue….oh crap. Time to sort.
In other news, I just got this one-egg-sized frying pan. I know my dad is going to make fun of me, but I hope the rest of you agree that it’s stupidly cute.
And that marks the end of this terribly restrained post. I’m not trying to take pot shots at disabled people who have had documentaries made about them, but trust me, it was an emotional rollercoaster David and I are glad to have behind us.
(i am so dramatic.)
I probably would have made fun of the frying pan but you disarmed me by stating that I would. Where’s the fun in that now?
— dad Feb 9, 11:19 PM [link]I find that frying pan absolutely hilarious (in a good way)!
— Dawn Feb 15, 08:21 PM [link]