Star Trek: Generations

I wonder how those old shows that I grew up watching every day, for so many years of my life, are currently regarded by the viewing public.

No doubt the manifest enthusiasm ebbs and flows from realm to juridiction, and even within open-minded circles trends and novelties come and go.

Without conducting a Foucauldian investigation I imagine interest is still strong nevertheless, and I recall seeing The Original Series trending on Netflix less than 5 years ago.

It doesn't age, especially after you stop watching TV for years and then one day find yourself sitting down to watch an episode, the VHS copy you recently found at a thrift store in far reaching wholesome working condition.

It was a Next Generation cassette and humbly featured Jean-Luc Picard, whose leadership style wholeheartedly disseminates a virtuous contradiction to Trump.

He listens closely to what others are saying and sincerely values their opinions, and looks forward to fair negotiations that treat different parties with mutual respect.

He's as anti-Trump as they come and a solid example for leaders to follow, the show's called Star Trek: The Next Generation, and it presents administrators who aren't buffoons.

But back in the day, The Original Series generally ruled the cultural roost, and was usually regarded as the cherished frontrunner when it came to comparisons between the series.

People were therefore uncertain how The Next Generation films would do, having to follow the trusted footsteps of the original widespread broadcast sensation. 

In hindsight, The Original Series showcases potentially timeless episodes, that I still love to watch every 5 years or so, unlike so much old school television.

It was cancelled early though perhaps dues to the interracial kiss, and religious criticisms of a popular world so far beyond rigid biblical discipline.

The Next Generation had a longer run and was able to do a lot more consequently.

So many clever intricate storylines.

I can't believe they didn't make more films.

It's tempting to just watch the movies because watching movies is always tempting, but try to save Star Trek: Generations until you've watched The Original Series, the first six Star Trek films, and the entire Next Generation run.

You'll appreciate Kirk meeting Picard so much more if this is the course you follow.

It's not as bad as some critics claim.

There are some issues (how can you just leave the Nexus and physically go anywhere you want in time for instance?).

But it's still really cool year after year. 

Near Dark

The carefree mosey experimental random newfound chill relations, inspire paramount misfortune archaically clad nocturnal vision.

He (Adrian Pasdar as Caleb Colton) must admit he likes her (Jenny Wright as Mae) but is still critical of what he's become, after her loving playful bites lead to vampiric transformation.

The sudden shocking discovery of a mobile team menacingly manifested, leads to trepidatious tumult potential incompatibility. 

He needs to feed to gain their trust but humanistically can't take lives, resultant vehement disputes suggesting alternative pair bondings.

But she wants him to hang around and freely lets him gourmandize, until there's trouble at a round up and he lets a terrified victim flee.

Mistrust immoderately showcased his life in danger Caleb pleas, before a gallant move reinstates fidelity through hearty cursed chagrined hiatus.

Yet his family's on the move engaged in heartfelt search and rescue, they manage to kindly find him, and introduce novel transfusion. 

Back amongst the living regenerated soulful sessions.

The reunion somewhat brief.

Acerbic obfuscation. 

Kathryn Bigelow's chilling Near Dark keeps things focused on the present, haunting vampires there may be, but there's little discussion of origins or community.

It's a visceral macabre romance featuring moribund exclusivity, that keeps things raw refreshed immediate impassioned daring bold l'amour.

Endemic confidence upholds spirits as declarations intertwine, direct unflinching pains existence accredited frank anon disclosure. 

I'd never heard of Near Dark and was eager to watch Bigelow's take on vampires, co-starring so many Aliens alumni, that may be a cool double feature.

It doesn't create a world like Twilight or revel in myth and legend.

But its forlorn ritualistic candour.

Still facilitates crazed verisimilitude.

Bizarro romance.

Passion.

The Forbidden Room

The derivative extracted percolates like pirouetting chestnut, the motion of which extends imaginative license to respect exfoliating indulgences, transitioning from text to subtext to limbo as tasks require undertaking in unwound fecund interdimensional free verse.

Rapscallions.

Tin cups.

Motivated to achieve yet strangleheld by absent physical qualifications, footholds, dreamlike advice metaphorically displacing, insubstantial links riveting unconnected clues, a Kafkaesque hesitance, pursuing, deliberating.

Insecurely supernatural.

Rasputin.

It's possible that the act of distilling the metaphorical displacements through poetic conjecture could construct links in a theoretical chain attached to anatomical veins focused on discussing Lacan or conjuring the ingredients for a delicious microbrew.

Contentment forthcoming.

A stash.

Treasure.

The flames unextinguished as sparrows scatter to intermittently supplant discourses of the heroic.

Cloth delicately swathes young suckling.

Eternal springs of adolescent visions abscond with gruff jingling clairvoyance, you must do something, respond, jangle, consider, trek, quaff, imprisoned existential platinum withstanding phantasmagorical creosote, a glass of milk, chocolate, prime rib, crackerjacks, blankets in winter, firelight, white pine.

The master narrative's unacknowledged marrow.

O negative.

Superlative improvisational resin.

Whole grains.

The Forbidden Room.