Today's Muse: Woo Fooking Hell 'n All That Tosh. Tits.

Ahhahahahahaha. Ha. Hahaha.

So, I managed to keep away from the teasers for the first two Spiderman movies, and yes, I thoroughly enjoyed them.

So, I clicked on the link to the teaser for the third installment, because I figured: Hey, the first two weren't bad, so what's the harm?

So, even though I know that a lot of work has gone into it, and the people behind it love the comic mythos as much as I do (Though I reserve my comments on the clone saga) and so on and so forth...

The Black Spidey outfit looks shot to shit.

It's just that, that teeny, weeny little detail that rankles me. Otherwise everything looks fantastic (Even forgiving the very un-Eddie-Brock-like Topher Grace, who might have made a snark-tas-tic Spidey, if you think about it).


And while I'm geeking out here, I'm not too fond of where the Chamber story is going. There's a pic floating around showing him as a younger version of... uh, ol' blue lips. I'm really sorry if I spoilt it for you. Unless you have no idea who blue lips is, anyway. In which case you are stupid and I hate you.

What is up with the Chamber's char designs anyway? Every appearance he has he seems to get more and more ripped. Okay, so I subscribe to the "his body is dead and being used as fuel by the psionic bikinetic whole long list of made-up sciency words thing in him. But it makes sense, dinnit? If he doesn't eat, there is no raw material with which to build up body mass. Unless the psionic energy sun contained within him was converting the by-psonic-energy that he was absorbing from other people. Which, is possible, if we go with the converting his dead body into fuel. Who's to say it isn't a two-way reaction?

But if we are to see Chamber's psionic sun reacting as fire would... Both give off heat and light energy - and the heat energy can be translated into kinetic energy (when he 'splodes). Both need fuel (Fire - wood, oil, babies. Psionic sun - Jono's dead body mass). Fire consumes oxygen, psionic sun consumes inhearent psionic energy from other living organisms.

In conclusion, Jono cannot put on body mass, and is more likely to have it steadily declining. His hair will not grow. His nails will fall off. His body will decay.

He is a mutant zombie - with mind intact.

Which brings us to another interesting point: Many believe that Jono will eventually shed his body - the "chamber" which encases the psionic sun - or at least have his body consumed entirely by the psionic sun. What then, of his consciousness? Will it escape along with the energy? How does it even function now, with his body and thus his brain clearing decaying? Is it even confined to his brain?

If the existence of "psionic" energy is to be believed in Jono's universe, then it is simple: His consciousness, like everyone else, is simply psionic energy. But how does it keep separate from the rest of the psionic energy in the convoluted mess that is his mutation? Why does it not dissipate?

Naturally Jono has telepathic potential. Is that why? Why am I talking about this? What am I doing? I'm supposed to be doing something useful. Oh, there goes the yelling. Have I been on that long?

Oh comic science, you.


I just read JJJ's reaction to Spidey's unmasking in Civil War. What, no aneurysm?

Today's Muse: German playing over and over and over and gaaah

You ever have one of those moments when you finish reading the internet cover to cover and then you go to your own little borrowed slice of the the inter-web and suddenly have the urge to type at the online world, "You're stupid"?

Well. Yeah.


On Monday I had to make a trip to LASALLE to drop off a couple of things and get my student card done. I have change buses at the convulated Bugis Street to get there, plus I'm still not quite sure when to get off. Once I got off too early, mistaking the Association for the Deaf for it.

But! I needn't have worried. Once the buzzer went off all these fashionably dressed youths stood up, with their totes and their psychedelic necklaces and skull-printed shoes and ties and converse sneakers and army caps... Nnngh.

I supposed they were all freshmen, like myself (in a modest shirt devoid of any embellishments). I met Natalie there, and we were talking about it - Is LASALLE really divided like that? Those whom dress the part, and those who don't?

I have a headache. Later

Kind of sums up Beijing for me.

Think I'll open a Flickr account or something, don't fancy writing loads here. Yet.

Today's Muse: Something Gassy

So, this isn't exactly after rehearsal. But the performance is over and done with, and I'm writing this from the airport. I've had three hours of sleep, I think.

So, I'll see you lot in about a week.

The airport has really greasy keyboards.

Today's Muse: Because Yelling Isn't Always A Valid Option

Those bastards. Those utter bastards.

More after rehearsal tonight.

I just spent the last two hours looking at baby stuff.

I don't know if this can be blamed on hormones. But, damn! That's a really cool stroller. It looks like a pink space-thing.

Does any one have a photoshop cd they're willing to share?


EDIT: The world should have more fat floating BABIES around.

Today's Muse: More Physic Fat

Well, that was painfully obvious.

In fact, the whole Results show was painful. The hosts unsure of where to go, Gurmit seemingly unused to reading live feed, the producers sorry attempts at prolonging the show...

Teething pains, I hope. With practise, with practise. I saw first-hand how difficult it is to read the moving text AND have someone yelling in your ear while the cameras are rolling. And the people I watched were newscasters with reams of experiance.

I am so very glad I didn't stay on to watch them do Idol, so very glad.


What am I doing? I'm supposed to be a counter-culture clone! Arrrghfwoomp. Whoo. Guitars.

I believe I am going out tomorrow. Two hunned appeared magically in my bank statement, and I shall use it to get walking shoes. And comics.

Do any of you have any idea how difficult it is to get a meat-grinder in Singapore?


Post Script: Oh my. The rabid fan-feeding frenzy begins. Twohill, you are a braver soul than I.