It’s not been great walking weather, but I got too impatient to wait any longer. I walked to work yesterday and from work today. My ears were pretty cold by the end each time! But I’m glad I did it. The birds are already out there in force.
Earlier in the week, I watched the anthology series Love, Death & Robots. I’ll try to get some thoughts up this weekend (and at least draft a few other posts I’ve been meaning to get around to), but the short version is that, save for a few of the stories, I really didn’t like it at all.
I’ve also been rewatching early James Bond films with my wife. I don’t know what triggered this for me, but here I am. We’re watching George Lazenby On Her Majesty’s Secret Service tonight, and it’s one of my favorites, mostly because Lazenby is my favorite Bond (most days, anyway–and I haven’t seen every film).
For what its worth, I don’t think Bond’s a “cool” character. He’s an asshole, a killer, a high-dollar thug. Connery’s version is basically a rapist. But I’m very intrigued by this incredibly flawed, incredibly broken man, who has excelled in his chosen profession through sheer luck, nationalism, and martial skill all while spiraling deeper and deeper into vice and addiction. I haven’t read many of the books, but that interpretation of the character seems more explicit there than in the films, which seem eager to cast Bond as suave and desirable. Still, I do enjoy viewing the films with my particular framing in mind. They’re still silly spy thriller pulps, but added nuance is produced this way–perhaps out of nothing.