Don't Panic

Occasionally I wish that I was someone who knitted. During particularly defiant detox attempts, for example, or during three-hour media lectures when you KNOW taking notes is useless because its all up on the net anyway.

Listening to the primary phase of the original BBC recording of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy was one of those times. While, unlike some media lectures I could mention, it was far from a complete waste, I can't help thinking that I'd feel far more productive if I also had a big, multi-coloured scarf to show for my time.

I can see why radio was THE friend of under-stimulated housewives everywhere, particularly those prone to knitting. After a solid quarter-decade of dedicated television viewing, trying to form your own visuals IN YOUR HEAD is actually harder than it sounds though. Granted, my mental pictures often drew from the movie--for example, despite Geoffrey McGivern's smooth British smoker's voice, my Ford Prefect looks far more like Mos Def with a bit of Taye Diggs thrown in for good measure. Of course, most of my mental pictures feature Mos Def with a bit of Taye Diggs thrown in for good measure, because it just makes the world that much prettier.

Still, I couldn't help wondering what listening to the series would have been like if I hadn't read the books about a decade ago (before the massive all-in-one tome mysteriously vanished from the school library) and watched the movie (which I loved the first time I watched it, and loathed the second time around). Turns out that like making up your own pictures in your head, imagining what your life would be like if you hadn't thoroughly integrated the phrase "triple-breasted whore of Eroticon Six" into your vocabulary--nay, the very fabric of your identity--is a real challenge.

I did, however, find that my brain had to work far harder when i got to the third CD, where they find themselves at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe and then steal the black spaceship. I also was overjoyed to be reunited with the hilarity of the Golgafrinchan Ark Fleet Ship B, and as always it seemed to explain some of the people one encounters on a daily basis just a leeeetle bit too well. So really, it is true--Hollywood rots your brain. Stay away from the talkies, people.

I'm now girding up my loins (and other relevant parts of my anatomy) for an assault on the Secondary Phase. I'm not sure if the Rain God features in the radio series or if that's just the book, but I live in hope. Meanwhile, I'm going to give my ears a rest from all the distortion and ponder this exchange between Slartybartfast and Arthur Dent:

SB: Science has achieved some wonderful things of course, but I'd far rather be happy than right any day.
AD: And are you?
SB: No. That's where it all falls down of course.
AD: Pity, it sounded like quite a good lifestyle otherwise.