"Dear all and Sundry:
Ok, been a while since I updated The Lucas Letters. Seems to be one of those things I keep meaning to do.
Work has been busy as of late, with my team merging with another team to create a super-team (no Blind Faith or Plastic Ono Band jokes, please) so there's lots to be done.
The name for this post comes from my recent viewings of the Muppet Show Season 2. In the first episode (with special Guest Star Don Knotts, who looked like he wandered into the wrong studio) something happened which triggered a powerful memory. In the skit, Knotts is playing a scientist, studying a little baby Muppet puffball, which inexplicable starts trying to attack him. It's funny seeing a Muppet the size of a coffee cup trying to eat someone. Then he knocks it away into next week, and the thing's mother comes along. Which is one of the huge Sweetums-sized Muppets, all eyes and teeth. The mother eats Don Knotts, and the last we see of him is his feet disappearing down the creatures gullet.
This scene transported me back to Victoria street, when I must have been 5 or 6 (I recall it being a school night), watching a similar skit from a later season where, instead of a little monster, the scientist was trying to feed 5 or 6 giant monsters in cages, and it goes worse and worse, this one biting his fingers, another grabbing his leg, until one finally grabs and eats him.
This shocked the ever-loving crap out of my little 6-year-old brain.
I actually couldn't sleep that night. I was scared to close my eyes. I remember Dad coming in and talking to me about it, and (in a move I was told about years later in my psych classes) got me to draw a picture of the monster. He then held up the sheet and I punched straight through it.
End of scared. Slept just fine.
I've also been reading lots of the Ex Machina series by Brian K. Vaughan (writer of Y: The Last Man and some of the Buffy Season 8 comics) and I love it, but it tends to give me the feeling that certain later episodes of the Wire, The Sopranos, and the last half of certain Discworld books give me: it goes over my head.
It's kind of like I'm following the storyline like someone following a helium balloon. It's at waist-level, I can see it, and can reach it if I want, then it's at shoulder height, whoa little dicey now, can still reach it, then at head height, but I can still see what's going on and I'm still walking at the same pace as the balloon. Then it goes up and I can't see it anymore. I keep walking, though, as I know the balloon is travelling at the same pace, and hope that eventually, it'll come down low enough from me to see it, and maybe, if I'm lucky, grasp the string again before the end of the episode/trade paperback/book.
It tends to be when the plot (or more so, the ideas in the heads of the characters) gets so twisty that I can't follow, but I hope it'll come back and I'll get the gist before it's over. It's like a magic trick. You're following along, thinking "ooh, nice overhand shuffle, into a card force, well layed there, nice patter and how the hell did he do that, and where is that dove coming from!"
I don't know if that makes me shallow or stupid, but I'm still reading/watching, so I'm game to fine out.
Sincerely,
Lucas"
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