That's what I wanted to be
But now that I am a spaceman
Nobody cares about me
Say, hey! You mother earth
You better bring me back down
I've taken just as much as I can
But around and around and around and around
Is the problem of a spaceman
--Harry Nilsson, "Spaceman"
If I were the sort of person who did vids, I would so do such a funny, funny Farscape vid to that song. And another one to Blondie's "One Way Or Another" (the first season Farscape theme music actually bears a striking resemblance to the guitar riff of this song). I can actually figure out what I'd use for clips, even--enough so that I'm almost tempted to try to learn, as part of my attempt to completely waste time away from writing for as long as my guilt gorilla, the suckmonkey, and the thought baboons at bay and let my brain drain out enough to actually be smart and happy and creative about writing the damned novel instead of doing it reflexively, compulsively, like a vampire counting grains of wheat scattered on the kitchen floor until the damned sun comes up and zorches me. (I also think Blondie's "Call Me" could make a pretty good Man from UNCLE vid--all those really amusing chatting-on-the-communicators sequences would be fun to intercut).
I have that problem where my brain is compulsively busy. It's not so much a short sttention span, because I can go into hack mode for hours on end, look up from writing, and realize it's tomorrow and the dogs are picketing for dinner, as the fact that I don't seem to have an option for "idle." My tolerance for passive/visual entertainment tops out at about four hours a week, and I have a hell of a time paying attention to most books for longer than an hour at a stretch. So when I'm not writing, I have to find other things to make, or I go nuts pacing the cage.
There's nobody here in Vegas that I can cook elaborate meals for, and I am *not* a visual artist... so I find myself playing around in Photoshop a hell of a lot. This, another shiny new icon....
Why, yes, I am compulsive.