Or is it lairing in the Lounge? Lounging at the outpost? Castling from the Compound? (That almost sounds like a chess game or something.) Memoiring in the hideout? Oh, nevermind.

Having lived here for a month now, I can say one thing: I love my apartment. It has everything I need in a place to live. Just being in it is fun. The newish feel of the carpet (maybe even brand new). The kitchen from which I can clearly see the tv while cooking or loading the dishwasher. The way I can turn on the ceiling light in the living room without seeing a trace of glare on the tv or monitor. The acoustics when my speakers fill the room with music.

(I'm still not quite sure if it has ever bothered the neighbors. Nobody has ever complained, but that doesn't necessarily mean they don't hear it. I'm not really sure how soundproof things are. I occassionally hear knocks and thuds vibrating up through the floor, so I decided it would be advisable to set the subwoofer at a very low level, but I've never once heard the sound of somebody else's tv or music from inside my place. I take that to mean that either (1) my neighbors don't make much noise, or (2) the soundproofing is decently good. Since I occassionally hear other stereos at least as loud as mine through opened windows when I walk outside, I figure it's probably safe to crank it a bit every now and then.)

I love the subdued coziness of my bedroom, separated off from the larger living area. I like having the big walk-in closet, even though it's already starting to need cleaning. My own laundry room is definitly a Good Thing. It occurrs to me that if and when I do have to move out of here, I might find it difficult to match this combination of ease, convenience, aesthetic goodness, and reasonably low rent payment. So I would be well advised to enjoy it to its fullest as long as I am here.

This morning, I finally settled on a good position for Dagobah to be oriented. Initially, I had conceived Dagobah's standard location as being up against the wall / window at the edge of the room. During the fest, I turned Dagobah around so that I could face the other festers. (My motif for the U-shaped festing arrangement was based on the theory that it would be good for every fester to be able to see each other and converse without having to turn around to see other people's faces. Also, being able to see the tv for background content was considered a plus.)

The disadvantage to Dagobah's festing position was that, unless scooted back, Dagobah blocked the righthand portion of the couch from seeing the tv. Also, having the back of the monitor and case sticking out into the center of the room would be undesirable for everyday non-fest life.

After the fest, I turned Dagobah back against the wall, but found this position awkward during the X Files marathon. I wanted to do stuff at the computer while simultaniously watching tv, but I had to crank my head and body around to switch between them. (Yes, I'm picky, picky, picky.)

This morning (by that I mean Saturday), I figured out the optimal position. Dagobah's case parallel to the wall, a few centimeters away, with the desk directly to the left of that. Scooted forward enough to fit the chair snugly between Dagobah's desk, the little table behind, and the couch to the left. It's perfect! I can sit and type at Dagobah (as I am doing right now) and get a clear view of the tv screen (though it's not on at the moment) without having to move an inch. If I want to look out the window (as I did this morning), I can pull up the blinds and stare up at the clear blue sky to my right. (It would be even better if the the mountains were not obstructed by the other building, but nothing is that perfect.)

[Bitscape extinguishes all internal illumination, opens the blinds, looks out into the night, and attempts to use the force to short out the circut which powers the bright light above the walkway outside. The attempt is unsuccessful. All this while Sarah McLachlan plays in the background. Not the live DVD, but the original studio cd, Surfacing.]

My my my. How do I manage to chew up so many paragraphs while still conveying very little of any significant substance? Let's try a little more brief approach.

"On Saturday morning, I adjusted the arrangement of my computer desk in the living room."

There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?

"On Saturday afternoon, I took a walk."

Nope. Doesn't work. The editors will never buy it. Needs more filler.

Although I reveled in the feeling of being situated in my oh-so-perfectly-crafted home environment, laying about on the inferior-to-Mulder's-nail-board futon (See X Files, Season 2: Humbug), surrounded by a continuing stream of soft new age music piped through a digital broadband, commercial free, DJ-free, music channel with a playlist to make any ClearChannel program director cower fearfully in the corner.... Although I knew all this to be true, I also knew that if I kept myself cooped up inside it for too long, I would eventually come to hate it, no matter how perfect every detail.

(Here, I'll make it easy. grep futon.)

Eventually I decided it was time to transcend this state of pseudo-euphoric laziness. I arose, put on some semi-warm clothes, and got my shoes. It was time to explore the neighborhood. I would do it the old fashioned way. I would get back to my roots. I would commune with nature in the middle of the metropolis. I would soak in the winter sun. I would do it all on foot. I would walk!

I dug my trusty backpack out from under a pile of stuff, removed some stuff that should rightfully have gone out with the heaps of trash during the move, and armed myself with two items: A copy of JRR Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, and a mostly blank notebook. I thought that if I found a good place to stop, I might find these things handy.

I trekked out to the area behind the complex, and found a dirt road to walk on. There was also a bike trail which ran parallel to it for a little ways, but I took the road. My primary intent was simply to explore the area surrounding my place. When one journies on foot, it is easy to notice so many things that would be missed whizzing by in a car at 30mph. I ventured through a grassy area with a little foot trail, next to the railroad tracks, under the 92nd street bridge, and around.

One really nice thing about the Louisville Compound was that it was near an open space which featured bike trails where one could almost get a feeling of being out in nature, even if it was in the middle of the city. I doubted that my new place would have anything as good in that particular category as what had been left behind.

Off of 92nd, I found a nice little officially marked trail which made a twisting path through the nearby neighborhood. Part of it ran along a dry creek bed, with heavy tree cover surrounding the path. The ambience was similar to the Boulder Creek trail, and I found it quite peaceful. It criss-crossed with...

[At this moment, Dagobah locks up hard, as it has been doing every so often. Bitscape initiates the reboot cycle, moves over to Argo, and thanks his lucky stars for vim's robust recover feature.]

Wouldn't want to lose a single word of this precious work of postmodern literature, now would we? Now resuming...

The trail criss-crossed with bike paths in many places. I concluded that if my desire for physical fitness ever manages to cross the threshold at which I become motivated enough to do something about it on a regularly recurring basis, I will have no trouble finding good places to flex my aerobic muscles around here.

I emerged from the forested area, and came within visual range of one of the official Temptation Zones, which happened to be Best Buy. Of course, it was on the other side of a 6 line freeway, but it was there nonetheless. I came within stone throwing distance of I-36, and decided it was time to start heading back.

At this point, I sort of wished I had brought my almost-forgotten portable disc player along, but no great tragedy. I could survive for a few minutes without a constant barrage of music entering my ears. (Noooo, music must be available at ALL times. At home, with my stereo. In the car, with my radio. At work, with the jukebox. Never can there be a single moment when Bitscape is forced to endure life without having his tunes within arm's reach! Never.)

This thought triggered the recall of a few memories. I thought about them on the way home, and transcribed them into the collective when I arrived. (And no, they were not announced. Diligent content vultures must be.. well... diligent, if they wish to unlock the secrets hidden in Bitscape's brain. Really, though, this one isn't very well hidden at all.)

Just as I came back into the range of Castle Lair grounds, I noticed a nice little wooden swing bench hanging behind the garages of the apartment complex. It overlooked the open area and railroad tracks behind the buildings. I took a seat, which was really quite comfy.

I took out Lord of the Rings, and started from the beginning of the Prologue. After a few pages, I found myself thumbing forward to see how long it would be before the first real chapter. I would liken the prologue to almost the literary level of the Biblical "begats" (maybe not quite that bad, but close), and wondered if it would hurt my understanding and appreciation if I skipped ahead to the real meat.

It was getting cold outside, and the sun was going down, so I suspended my reading and returned up to the Castle Lair.

After content farming, I turned on the tv, and on a whim, switched to IFC. The Independent Film Channel. They were running an interview with Oliver Stone, who I consider to be one of the more intriguing film makers of our time. (The interviewer was the same guy who interviewed Christopher Nolan on the Memento disc. The same tv show.) Some people (such as everyone in my immediate family with the exception of myself) hate Stone's political biases and opportunistic-seeming vies for controversy, but he does know how to make a smartly done film. That cannot be denied.

After the interview show, they played Affliction, a movie about a small town sheriff haunted by memories of his father who abused him as a child, and with whom he still lives. After a hunting accident kills a local man, the sherrif (Nick Nolte) goes on a paranoid hunt for the conspiracators whom he blames for the "murder". Willem DaFoe, who was uber-cool in eXistenZ, played a small part as the disturbed sherrif's brother.

Before and after the movie, they flashed a few random facts about its production, cast, and crew. And I thought my parents had been strict when I was young. Due to his religious upbringing, Paul Shrader, the guy who directed the film, never saw a movie until after his 18th birthday! The pent up angst of those whose childhoods were overshadowed by extreme religous zealotry can sometimes be an amazing thing when it surfaces in the form of their artistic expression.

I decided that I would at least assume the role of a good poser fan of the IFC. Seriously, it's cool that there's at least one channel that really lives up to the original promise of broadband cable: Diversity of content. A place where you can go to watch non-mainstream films, unedited and uncensored, free from commercial interruptions. (At least a little of that $42/month must be paying for something other than conduits where advertisers spout their mindspam.)

My only complaint was that the image had been cropped to fill the screen. Hence, not qualified for a movielog entry.

Between films, they ran a promo for Mulholland Drive, which featured some soundbites from cast and director. I resisted the idiotic impulse to check theater listings to find out if I could catch yet another showing of this formidable brain teaser.

They were also running promos for an upcoming showing of Pi with "talking on film." (Based on the context, I took that to mean that they will run the director's commentary.) Mmmmm.... Pi. (Astute readers might note that I very recently logged an entry for a film from the same director.) If I'm bored Thursday evening, I might have to remember to tune in to that.

After checking imdb, I decided to stick around and watch Safe. I noted with some irrational degree of glee that this one was being run in its original widescreen aspect ratio. Since the previous film had been pan and scan, I wondered what mysterious criteria they use to determine which films to crop and which ones to leave in tact.

Well, Safe certainly made some very odd uses of the full width of the frame, but I already discussed that in my entry. After writing my entry, I read several more reviews by imdb readers who said that it might take several days after viewing for the film to truly sink in, and when it does, the effect on the subconscious will be lasting and noticable. We'll see.

I would say that now that I have actually "discovered" it (the guy who installed my cable strongly recommended it, since it's one of his personal favorites, but I didn't get around to seriously checking it out until this evening), the Independent Film Channel has the potential to be at least as addictive as anything else I've run across on cable tv so far. Especially if they broadcast a significant portion of their stuff in widescreen.

Alright, I see this has turned into yet another megarambling. To think that I had actually planned to get a little sleep on this night! Oh well, I suppose the process of getting my sleep patterns back to a schedule which accomodates an 8-5 job can be procrastinated a little longer. 3 more days before vacation ends, and I don't intend for them to be wasted.

I will now follow the directives of the blob behind my corneas, and let sleep transport me into the next phase of consciousness.