February 18th, 2006


I've Been Thinking Too Much Again


There was an article in the Globe & Mail today about "Silent Dating," the latest sensory-deprivation date fad, where you pass notes to one another instead of actually talking. The reporter complained because her hand cramped up. Pussy.

Anyway, she ends the article by saying, "I guess it's true: men fall in love through their eyes, and women fall in love through their ears." Which isn't entirely true, I mean I fell in love through my nose once. But at any rate, it got me thinking. The no-talking party discriminates against people who don't look good. Another senseless-style date, the "blackout date," involves shutting all the lights off so you can't see the person you're looking at, but that discriminates against people who aren't smart enough to carry on a halfway intelligent conversation - something the no-talky ought to help with, since you have time to think more about what you're writing. So maybe what we should do is combine the two events. Anyone who can talk the talk but isn't a looker gets a pair of night-vision goggles, and anyone who's hot to trot but can't string enough words together gets a writing pad (or a keyboard, possibly.) That way the talkers can check out the lookers and the lookers can swoon to the intellectual superiority of the talkers. Or something. It needs to be tweaked, I know.


I'm officially coining the phrase "Science Tragedy." It's sci-fi plus tragedy. Technically, the genre has existed for years, but this is the first time a key pundit (me) has put a decent name to it. Every time anyone uses it from now on, they owe me twenty bucks.

DCF is an example of Science Tragedy. So is my unfinished screenplay. However, LJ entries like this one will continue to be called "personal tragedy."