Further evidence that Mr. Jackson's losing his mind:
Peter Jackson On Doing Away With Miniature Photography For The Hobbit
Remember when Lucas did away with miniatures and conventional special effects in favor of computer animation? That turned out great! I call it "Skywalker Syndrome." So far it's produced the Prequel Trilogy and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull among others. Let's hope the Hobbit films aren't quite in that category, but it's looking worrisome.
"Baseball is a game of inches. And hours. And in those moments between release and resolution are contained particles of infinity—the space between a prayer of supplication and the surrender of 'Amen'; the whisper of intention that brings what is empty and void into fullness. The hope for redemption.
We can relate to that just as we can identify with pitcher and batter; the individual confronting a full team of resistance with the humblest of weapons—a ball, a stick—speaks to our daily grinds, the resistance, the persistence, the victory of getting through a day; of correcting a flawed stance; of breaking a bad habit before it owns you.
A man screaming 'for the love of God' in the stands of Fenway Park made perfect and sympathetic sense to my son and me, because baseball may be a mere game, but it is one that relates to the continual process of the life of faith—a life of swings and misses, stupid errors, the clutch of despair, the release, the trust, the clockless innings of new chances that stretch out before us, endlessly, and so full of promise.
It breaks your heart, but it leaves you wanting more; it roars into spring, slips us through summer and delivers us, tired but still game, into autumn, and then we lie fallow—waiting in joyful hope."
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| Wrigley Field lit by fans' flashlights |
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| Starry Night Over Mordor - Courtesy of The UniBlog. |
“I’m still hungry,” my youngest said roughly five minutes after he didn’t finish his breakfast. It was an issue. He had developed the bad habit of playing with his food rather than eating it, and it was something that needed to be addressed. Luckily, I had foreseen such a moment and took the proper steps needed to combat it. Basically, I set said breakfast aside and played Words With Friends on my iPhone while the world went spinning on.
“Then you,” I replied, “are in for a treat.” I slid his breakfast across the counter as he climbed onto the same stool that he had only recently vacated. The stool was still warm, his food was not.
“This is my breakfast,” he said. “Again.”
He’s pretty quick.
“It’s your second breakfast,” I explained. “Like a hobbit.”
“What’s a hobbit?”
“You, but hairier.”
“They eat two breakfasts?”
“That’s what I’ve read.”
“Do you know any hobbits?” he asked.
“I suspect a few,” I told him. “But I can’t prove anything.”
His breakfast was colder than he remembered it. I assured him that was the way it was supposed to be. The hobbit way. One hot, one cold. The ying and the yang of a balanced diet(s).
“Do hobbiths get beg and strawng from eating so munch?” he asked.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” I answered.
Time passed.
“Do hobbits get big and strong from eating two breakfasts?” he asked.
“I can see why one might think that,” I started, “but the fact-ish is they don’t. They don’t grow much at all.”
“Why not?” his concern was palatable and smeared with jelly.
“Well,” I took a breath and looked him squarely in the plate. “The popular theory is they might get bigger if they actually ate one healthy breakfast the first time it was served and didn’t waste food.” I let the time and money go — everybody wastes those.
“Healthy is good for you,” he said.
The light above his head glowed warm and knowingly.
“I only want one lunch,” he stated, “a good one.” I nodded accordingly.
