As I seated myself on one of the new couches, beer and laptop in hand, the unfamiliarly slick surface and round arms led to a moment of discombobulation which resulted in a sploosh of beer over the keyboard and trackpad of the Powerbook.

At first, it appeared that all was well, but moments ago, the machine froze, and now it won’t boot.

Due to the move, I don’t know where all my diagnotic emergency CDs are. Bummer.

I finally completed the Vollmann. Poking about, I find I picked it up late last April and must have started it in May.

Until I unlimber the man’s McSweeney slipcase edition of the violence books, it’s library books for me for a good long while.

Last night at the Paramount’s silent movie, a 1915 adaptation of Carmen directed by Cecil B. DeMille, I was amused to note what appeared to me to be the profile of the cliff known as Dana Point prominently featured in the center of the screen during the opening sequence, a picturesque scene of smugglers landing goods in in a longboat.

Speaking of bedtime reading, I am relieved to – it seems nearly a year later – finally return to Vollmann’s now plaudited Europe Central.

I just completed a fugue-like pair of chapters relating the sorry histories of General Vlasov and Field Marshal Paulus, sympathetic yet ironically distanced recountings of war’s toll on (in these chapters) those who would be great men. Deliciously constructed and arch in tone Vollmann still manages to gain our sympathies for these characters, one a turncoat Russian, the other a German general who was promoted to the highest Wermacht rank by Hitler on the day before his capture by the Russians, who had encircled his unsupplied remnant of an army at Stalingrad.

Vollmann’s point seems to be something along the lines of ‘war is bad,’ but as ever, his apparent simplicity and insistent naivete are suspect: there’s more going on here than meets the eye. What it is, I’m not yet sure.

I am unaccountably pleased by the realization that I can get new reading material on to my otherwise unsynchable Palm V, currently functioning as my alarm clock.

Green on black with no blinding LEDs rules for bedtime reading.

As Spence and I listened to Dennis James introduce The Ten Commandments at The Paramount this afternoon, I was amused when Dennis quoted David Jeffers’ long and wonderful essay on the film that he published earlier this week on SIFFblog.

This bemusement turned to pleasure when Dennis in turn introduced David on stage to do the expert intro to the film.

Karel wanted me to email this to him. I came up with this instead.

It seems likely that someon somewhere has recognized that I’d enjoy Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, but I always avoided them, understanding the deistic reference of the title to cast them as marketing artifacts along the lines of Left Behind.

This week’s amusing New Yorker profile of the author makes it clear I’ve misminded the meme. Should I ever read another book, I’ll keep these in mind.

Viv and I are breakfasting at the W this morning, and the chatter at the next table appears to be about some sort of blogging start up.

I’d take a picture, but I won’t.

Success!