Little Fuzzy & Blade Runner

In the last two months, I’ve read two SF novels that have a character in it named “Little Fuzzy.”  What are the chances?

The first one has sequels, and the second one has a time machine.  I enjoyed both in their own ways.

My husband has opened up the world of SF to me since I met him…but I wanted to see the re-digitized director’s director cut of “Blade Runner.”  The only thing I remembered of it when I saw it back in the eighties (on VCR, natch) was that it had themes I’d never thought of before, and that I ultimately liked it.

So we went down to our local movie house with couches and pints of crisp pear cider, and settled in.  It was more like a period film from the eighties.  There were so many splashes from the eighties that I could only focus on that: the companies that no longer exist, but were displayed prominently in their LA version of Times Square (Pan Am, Atari, TDK), the sheer cheesy eighties-ness of the actors: Darryl Hannah, Sean Young, Rutger Hauer — did any of them work after the eighties?  It was as if they were given the decade of the eighties to make it big by some devil who could only guarantee a ten-year period.

And the giant shoulder pads on the women’s fashion….which was just a retread of the forties, of course.

And then I thought about poor Phil K. Dick, the troubled (schizophrenic) writer of the novel that the movie is based upon, and the many themes that he revisited many times in his work, about reality, memories, not feeling human.

I had all this time to reflect on these things because I was bored out of my mind, even with the pleasant cider buzz.

Things are good, I can’t complain, but I don’t want to type too much. Just got my wrist fixed!