Watchmen: Music From the Motion Picture
Watchmen: Original Motion Picture Score by Tyler Bates
As I said, full comments on every track from both CDs is available on my twitter -- you'll just have to dive into the archive to find them.
All the stuff I've watched, read, listened to, etc.
The smells of ordinariness
Were new on the night drive through France:
Rain and hay and woods on the air
Made warm draughts in the open car.
Signposts whitened relentlessly.
Montreuil, Abbéville, Beauvais
Were promised, promised, came and went,
Each place granting its name's fulfilment.
A combine groaning its way late
Bled seeds across its work-light.
A forest fire smouldered out.
One by one small cafés shut.
I thought of you continuously
A thousand miles south where Italy
Laid its loin to France on the darkened sphere.
Your ordinariness was renewed there.
'Nitgub,' said the typewriter,
and clenched the paper tight.
'Nitgub positively.
It is here in black and white.'
'Nonsense,' I said.
'I typed N-O-T-H-I-N-G;
the word of course was nothing,
simply nothing, don't you see?'
'Nothing may be what you meant,
but nitgub's what you wrote.
I like it,' said the typewriter.
'It strikes a happy note.
It has more style than nothing,
has a different sort of sound.
The colour is superior;
the flavour's nice and round.
Have you plumbed its deepest depths,
its mysteries explained?'
'All right,' I said, 'I'll take it.
Nitgub ventured, nitgub gained.'
If you're triskaidekaphobic, then this is your big day.
A day designed for triskaidekaphobics, (so they say)
Is BLACK FRIDAY. The thirteenth. So watch out what you do,
Or triskaidekaphobia could be the death of you.
Be very, very careful of what you undertake,
The consequences could be dire. The decision that you make
Should have no element of risk. For surely you're aware,
That this is Friday, the thirteenth. Take very special care.
Not that I'm susceptible to silly superstition,
But some folk are. So my advice: Consider your position.
It may be just some oldwives' tale, but you just watch your back.
Don't cross your knives upon your plate. Don't step upon a crack.
Don't go too close to mirrors. Those shiny sheets of glass
May crack, and cause misfortune. So shun them when you pass.
Of course, this means no mirror when you go to shave your chin,
So keep a basin near at hand to do your bleeding in.
Don't walk beneath a ladder, you may get splashed with paint.
For on Black Friday, the thirteenth, fortunate you ain't.
And be alert, and look around for black cats on this day.
For bad results are forecast, if one should cross your way.
If salt is spilled, then take a pinch, and toss it down your back,
Some say it will protect you from Black Friday type attack.
All your friends will laugh and jeer, but you'll say:"That's alright,
I only have to keep it up 'til twelve o'clock, to-night."
And just consider what you say. The person that you're rude to,
May be a special kind of witch. The kind that I allude to
Can turn you into cabbages, or make you very poor.
Remember. This is Friday, the thirteenth. I said before,
That triskaidekaphobia, (the terror of thirteen)
Is very rife, this day of days. A pretty dreadful scene.
So watch yourself in traffic, in the kitchen, everywhere.
For triskaidekaphobics, there is danger in the air.
Ah! Triskaidekaphobia. I just learned the word today.
And from here on in, I'll try to find excuses, just to say
Triskaidekaphobia. It just rolls off the tongue.
I'll say it daily, and enjoy the pleasure that it brung.
I'll buy a lottery ticket, and I'll call it: Triskaidek.
And when it wins, I'll take it all in cash, and not by cheque.
And really, I don't believe in luck, when all is done and said,
But just the same. Black Friday. I think I'll stay in bed.
"What the FUCK?!"
"I... I..."
"You fucking unprofessional Cyberman! What the FUCK do you think you're DOING?"
"I... I... well..."
"Fucking hell! Put the fucking helmet back ON!"
"But... but I'm really hot..."
"What?! What the FUCK? You don't fucking get it, do you? DO YOU?"
"But... I'm not in shot..."
"Oh! OHH! He's not in the fucking SHOT!"
"And I'm... I'm suffocating..."
"Oh, he's SUFFOCATING, and he's not in SHOT! Well GOOD for YOUUU!"
"I... but..."
"Shut up. Shut UP. Shut the FUCK UP. Just shut up. SHUT UP. I said SHUT THE FUCK UP. Shut up! FUCKING SHUT THE FUCK UP. OK?"
"O--"
"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP. Fucking unprofessional fuck. Get off the set. Get off the fucking set. I'm not coming on this fucking set with this fuck on it."
"But... I play all the Cybermen..."
"Well la-de-fucking-da! The Cybermen can FUCK OFF then. You and me, we're through. Professionally, we're fucking through."
To deftly do what many dimly think;
To fund a feeling for the world to borrow;
To turn a tear to printer's ink;
To make a sonnet of a sorrow.