On Friday we went to see another concert at the Lyth Arts Centre, this time a duo of traditional Scottish musicians, Fiona Hunter and Mike Vass:
We’d been out a couple of times during the week, including a trip to Thurso to see The Great Gatsby:
My expectations were very low, because I’d read reviews that wrote the movie off as just an empty spectacle. They certainly had a point, but that judgment is based on begging the question that spectacle is a bad thing. For me, it was like getting to look through a stereoscope picture of 1922 for two-and-a-half hours — which was completely fun. So what if the characters were cardboard cut-outs? They are in the novel, too.
“¦Or so I’ve been told — I’m among the few who didn’t read the book in high school, and I’ve just never got around to it since, mainly because I had an instinct that it was a certain kind of book. Last week I read a beautifully written review that confirmed my suspicions: “Why I Hate The Great Gatsby“. The critic’s points can be fairly levelled at the movie, too — and yet it was wonderful to see someone have the budget and the vision to deliver such a visual treat. The characters were just an excuse to keep showing and watching, and in this case I was okay with that. It’s the first 3D movie I’ve seen that uses the technology throughout the film to an effect that’s not only good but adds to the overall value of the piece (perhaps even lending it value it wouldn’t otherwise have).
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I’ve been driving a lot lately. If we have to go somewhere, I drive. I knew from the beginning that this is how you’re supposed to get comfortable and familiar with the process, but driving jangled my nerves so much that I just couldn’t subject myself to it any more than once or twice a week. But a few weeks back Craig and I switched seats, and now it’s consistently fine and even fun. Regardless of what the examiner will have to say about it, I declare myself a driver. It’s just a matter of time until I get my licence, because the difficult part is over.
My mantra for driving is breathe, notice, enjoy. When I remember those three things, I’m fine.
Now I just wish the car ran on air or water or something other than carbon-emitting, war-provoking dinosaur juice.
As we drove back from the concert Friday night, along Wick’s main street, I was surrounded by the boy racers, who swung around the roundabout, heading back to do another circuit of the town and rev their motors.
I could get it, kind of: This picks up on my point about power in the last post, and a car definitely gives you a feeling of power. But all that gunshot muffler, deafening-growl engine noise”¦ it’s stupid. Thats not really power, and whatever substitute it is, a populated area is not the place to express it.