Archives: Netflix

No Time to Binge, Doctor Jones

I’ll be driving MBW and the HA to a restaurant later this afternoon to watch the Superbowl with friends. In part this is to see friends. Also in part because I wouldn’t be able to watch the game at home. See, Meduseld gets crap TV reception. I purchased a 40-mile antenna. Installed downstairs it does nothing for the big screen. Upstairs, connected to the petite bedroom TV, it receives a few channels, one of which occasionally shows something worth viewing. But none of those channels is Fox (which is carrying the game this year.)

What we watch primarily comes courtesy of Netflix or Amazon Prime. I also have a Roku hooked up downstairs, providing numerous other options, when the wifi consents to filter down from the rarefied upstairs atmosphere. If the weather is bad (and this is the Pacific Northwest) Roku provides a pixilated picture, brief ten-second sections of video between two minute blocks of nothing, or simply nothing at all. So, the best bet is usually Netflix or Amazon Prime upstairs on the small screen or a computer screen.

What sci-fi/fantasy genre options do I watch, then? Well, MBW caught the Game of Thrones bug, so we’ll be picking up HBO again this summer to catch up on the nefarious exploits of Tyrion, et al. And while we’re paying the premium, we’ll check out Westworld, see if it holds up to the good reviews, despite the absence of Yul Brynner.

Forced Hiatus from Popular Culture

I understand it’s been a good year for movies. I read glowing reviews and happy Facebook chatter about the recent crop of comic book films and the return of everyone’s favorite city-stomping behemoth.

I certainly hope they hold up on the small screen because that’s the only way I’m going to see them – months or perhaps years after their release. And when I say small screen I mean one of two screens: either my big screen television or the much more modest dimensions of my Acer Chromebook.

It isn’t that I do not want to see any of these movies in the theater. But my priority is my 6-month old daughter. Going to the theater is simply not an option. I can wait for the Blu-ray to reach the Red Box and rent the film for the night. That seldom works as well as one might hope. A two hour block of time, uninterrupted by an infant’s needs, is difficult to achieve. And if she is sleeping the volume must, of course, be minimized. The usual result of a rental is that my lovely wife and I watch twenty, perhaps thirty minutes of the movie, then turn it off for the night. We may – or may not – be able to finish it the next day before I need to return it.

So most of last year’s fare that is on my to-see list remains on the list.

My other source for film is Neflix. I am up late every night, writing and attending to Victoria’s last feeding and changing of the day. After getting in my word count I usually have time to watch a third or even half of a movie. Now, Neflix tends to provide streaming movies later than they are available for rental. And the selection is curtailed. But patience eventually brings many films I’ve hoped to watch to the small screen – to the very small screen. Hence my hope that the current crop of effects-driven spectaculars hold up on my – compact – viewing area.

And now Comcast has ceased providing free streaming of HBO shows. So no more “Game of Thrones” until the library gets in this season’s DVD set.

First World problems, right? I’ve plenty of books and a near endless supply of older films or television series at my beck. I’m hardly hurting for entertainment. Just don’t expect me to contribute to any conversations about the latest and greatest. I haven’t seen it.

Writer and Child

 

Snapshot of the part-time writer with a newborn: Wife, exhausted, hits the sheets shortly after eight. The time varies dependent upon the baby’s needs/whims, of course. The almost equally exhausted part-time writer feeds the baby. Then begins the drama – suspense builds as the part-time writer watches anxiously to see if the baby will drift off to sleep. Or will she instead remain stubbornly alert until the wee hours? If the latter, the writer will consider himself lucky to get in a hundred words, pecking one-handed at the keyboard while supporting the baby in his other arm.