Toy drive 2013

I've managed to add shifts to my work schedule. I did this of my own free will, but man do I hate it. I figured, well, I can't have all my eggs in one half-basket*, hoping to stumble upon a fun job that I won't mind doing full time that will pay well enough that I can pay off my debts and move myself forward.

*I know half-basket isn't the phrasing.. I'm suggesting my strategy was even less viable than keeping all your eggs in one basket. Imagine a basket that has been literally chopped in half, and the eggs are always threatening to roll out.

Maybe five or six months will be enough to climb out of this hole?

Six months? Sheesh.

This Christmas I donated much earlier than my usual last minute contribution, I think I picked it up at the Indigo Chapters toy area at the Eaton Center, having been reminded about the whole thing the weekend before by some toy drive people accosting me for a donation at my gym. Though I'd promised to donate after my workout, by the time I finished they were gone, never to be seen again.

Well, wherever I picked it up, I had good options this year. I think I could have gone with either Leonardo, Michelangelo, or Donatello (I'm pretty sure I didn't see Raphael). And the winner was:

Now, my favourite turtle has historically been Donatello, for reasons that I probably don't need to go into yet again. However, this latest incarnation has a slight inferiority complex (from what I've seen) and, more troubling, is his obsessing over this version of April. (I'm not saying it isn't funny or not a good fit for the show, but it takes away from my high personal vision for him)

Contrary to that, they've upped their game with this version of Leo. Gone is the boring brown noser who only had the swords as a redeeming factor- this version is a bit of a daydreamer, borrowing something from Mikey's personality, idolizing the Kirk of the cheesy Star Trek show he watches. He wants to be a hero in the same way we all do- by mimicking our own heroes and trying to grow into something like them.

And that's exactly the kind of thing I'd want the kid who gets this toy to do- daydream a bit, and emulate a heroic attitude.

Oneironautics

It's due back at the library today, so I should mention having read "A Field Guide to Lucid Dreaming: Mastering the Art of Oneironautics".

The title rather says it all, at least about the books purpose. The actual execution seemed more in line with a pop-self help book. Not a whole lot of useful content.

Though I have become lucid in a dream before- it's pretty rare, but it has happened- I can report I managed to become lucid since reading the book. So whatever other faults I have with it, I have to give it props if, for no other reason, it kept the idea of trying to become lucid in my mind so that it would eventually happen.

But come on, guys, it's a small enough book as is, with some pretty large print. The dream flying tutorial was hardly any use. Wait, let me rephrase that. I wasn't any use.

*Silver the Hedgehog's voice* "It's no use!"

While I'm on the subject of dreams, this morning I dreamed something particularly upsetting, but for once it isn't immediately clear what the whole thing was about. I wasn't me, but some little boy who felt really guilty about taking some money from his job to buy a handful of junky looking garage sale type trinkets.

It was pretty strange. I woke up with tears in my eyes, with no clear understanding of why.

Well, here's to happy dreams in the future.

Today's agenda

You'll be happy to know that I have been, true to my word, much more creatively active as of late. That that hasn't translated into blogposts is a shame, but hardly the end of the world.

I ate an entire large bag of harvest cheddar sun chips things last night. And now, awake earlier than usual, my stomach hurts. There may be a correlation.

I aggressively eavesdropped on a conversation to people were having about me. This was more okay than normal, seeing as I was dreaming this- but anyway this dream person described me as "jolly, but unhappy". Again, as this was a dream, the person who ACTUALLY said this is much smarter and more actively involved in my life than the person who appeared to say it.

I've added a number of people to my the facebook friend list. More importantly, last night I was added by someone else, a friend from way back in kindergarten through to grade 5. Crazy right?

I wish my stomach didn't hurt right now. I know, I know. My own fault.

On my agenda for today: watch the Doctor Who serial 'The Caves of Androzani' in preparation for the Doctor's 50th anniversary celebration. I read a list the ranked all the television stories, and this ranked number 1 and it's classic Who (versus NewWho) so I've never seen it before. Also, the google page today has a Doctor related thing-y. Doctor Who really has gotten mainstream. Unless the people working at google are a bunch of nerds. (NERDS!!)

Also, picking up comics.
Also, going to the gym.
Also, showing my 4 page screenplay to the other contestants on the nycmidnight forums and doing some criticing of my competitors work. Whatever you think of my personal story construction skills, I stand by my ability to tear a work to pieces. I'm helpful like that.

Noughts and Crosses by Malorie Blackman

I need to zip off and go to work, but I realized if I didn't post something RIGHT NOW then I'd be empty a spot for October. UNACCEPTABLE!

(I've got to start watching Adventure Time.)

I ended up reading Noughts and Crosses by Malorie Blackman at the recommendation of a girl at work. She was talking about writing her own novel with flipped perspectives every chapter, and cited this book, the first of a trilogy, as a huge inspiration.

The premise is of a world where white people were slaves and black people in charge, hanging on the Romeo and Juliet relationship between (what's their names... it's been a couple of weeks since I read it... no real time to scour my brain or the book that's right beside me...)

Long story short (sorry) it was atrocious. The story undercuts its own dramatic potential at every turn, raises plot points that are never addressed later- when asked what I thought of the book I said "It depends. Does X,Y, and Z get addressed ever again in the later books?" Her reply was no. Well, why not?! It was juicy stuff! This character had an affair with someone, this one had a secret child 20 years ago, the main white characters have some african blood in them- huge things that could effect the story, but are never brought up again.

The argument was that, well, that's how life is, man. But this isn't life, it's a story being written by someone, who is in control over how this plays out, and the whole endeavor could have been much more rewarding.

Alright, I've gotta head off, but you should be hearing from me much more in November.

Some thoughts on Kick-Ass 2

I sent this to a friend as an e-mail, but I may as well use it here as well.

I've been wanting to drop you a line for a while now, chiefly because of a thought I'd had in regards to Kick-Ass 2. Now, I'm not sure if I've read the comic version of Kick-Ass, though I feel like I have if for no other reason than my familiarity with the art style, and any of your articles on the subject- and while I definitely haven't read Kick-Ass 2, that same feeling of having read it exists, given your articles on it, the movie, etc etc.

NOW, I'm a big fan of the first Kick-Ass movie, I thought it was essentially two very fun, though differently toned, movies mashed together- the movie about a young man that wants to do something positive for his community, and goes out as Kick-Ass, followed by the movie about a world that progressively warps into a cartoonish reality of super heroes, jet packs and bazookas. I had a blast with it! But it's also worth noting that there are at least two key changes in the movie that were overall of a cheerier aspect: first that Katie does end up going out with Kick-Ass, something I find more realistic, a girl, at the very least, being enamoured with a media darling super hero, makes more sense to me than the over the top cruelty of her cutting Dave down in the comic. He's the world's first super hero and everyone loves him- it makes complete sense that she'd be interested in that, in being let in on that world/secret.

And second, the movie keeps the backstory of Big Daddy's wife getting killed, and making it the actual story, as opposed to just the fiction of a delusional comic book fan. While the comic version is darkly funny in a sort of existentialist way, the movie is, crazy as it sounds, the happier version. In this go around, his origin was true, and everything he did made sense. A twisted sense, but more sense than the comic version.

So what's great about Kick-Ass 2, first, is how it sets up the movie to get more in line with how the first comic series ended, allowing them to run the movie based of the second series comic. So, Katie and Dave break up near the beginning, and there was a great line where Hit-Girl is thinking about her father and Kick-Ass just says "you know he was insane, right?" I'd be willing to bet anything that line comes directly from the Kick-Ass 2 comic.

It also follows the first movie's pattern of changing the source material to lighter effect- the two notable examples being how (and you'll, of course, forgive the apparent crudity on my part. The names are what they are.) Motherfucker does NOT kill Colonel Stars and Stripes's dog (with the funny lampshading line "I'm not THAT evil!"), nor does he rape Night Bitch. I'm glad they made these changes, and referring to the latter one, it has been noted that the actor was also glad about the changes.

Anyways, none of this was actually what I wanted to mention to you (whoops..), I had actually been thinking about how the movie didn't focus much on the eponymous Kick-Ass, it was mostly a Hit-Girl/Mean Girls crossover, but one thing we had been given was the scenes with Dave's father, and how he was always working out, and then Dave has that outburst about how it's pointless, no one cares, and that he's going to die un-noticed. A pretty harsh thing to say to ones father, but what eventually hit me was that everything he yelled at his father was far more applicable to himself- most of the movie for Dave is him working out, so he can go out in a secret identity that leaves him an unknown in perilous situations. When I made this connection the outburst was far more forgivable, Dave was, on a certain level, scared about the life he was living, and lashing out at his father.

Although I wish they had spent more time elaborating on this, well, as is the film was being... subtle! That's right- subtlety in a Kick-Ass movie!!

Okay, THAT'S what I wanted to share. Sorry to be long winded!

I hope everything is going well on your end, and enjoy the day!

Most of fan expo 2013

Here's some general fan expo stuff:

I got up much later than I planned to, but I needed the rest after my work days (believe it or not). I stopped by McDonald's on the way down with my brother so I could download these new games for my 3DS (handheld gameboy type deal) so I could collect other peoples 3DS info wirelessly while at the convention... it sounds lame, and it kinda is, but I actually spent most of my time loading these different strangers onto my 3DS. Thankfully I did eventually run out of battery power!

While my favourite part of a comic convention is the panels, I only went to two this year. One on comics for kids, but there were a bunch of little kids in the audience (why was I surprised?) so it was difficult to get much useful info out of it- though the presenters were really cool to the kids.

The second had to do with a sort of new system of pitching an idea to this particular site, where it'd be voted on by the community at large, and the winner gets a dream ticket to develop their idea. Very cool stuff. Naturally I asked a question that weirded the presenters out-- it was slightly off topic, asking about getting psyched for a project that you didn't develop, but I think they thought I was talking about approaching the whole thing without passion for MY OWN ideas. Whoops. Phrasing.


There was another panel, I think it was a drawing panel (something I could always use some help on) but the thing was cancelled! I could have also aimed for the big DC comics "great news about stuff you should soon buy" panels, but I've gotten a bit disillusioned with those guys.


But whilst searching for the Pete Winning table (which was't easy) I passed this one artist alley dude who started off his conversation with "hey, soft sale, no pressure, let me tell you about my book..." and he was nice, so after I found Mike's table (I left a bunch of my stuff with him) I returned, bought his issue #1 and said how much I appreciate the soft sell. (I think that's the phrase, it sounds weird in my head right now, but you know what I mean)


Oh, I forgot to mention how, when I got there so late, I was't exactly relishing standing in line for a ticket (I brought an umbrella for shade- thinking ahead), but before I even got to the lineup a dude yelled that he had a ticket for sale and I was all "SOLD!" Skipped the line! Nice!


The only other newsworthy thing is when I headed over to the lionforge booth. I had no idea what their deal was, but the dude I talked to said it was a platform for online comic sales, so that's pretty pertinent to my interests as well. I was given a coin that could be used as a game token thing, but I even said the that I'd probably hold onto it for the reminder/website to check out later. And it's right beside me right now- it's got a cool stylized lion head design, I like it.

Whale Rider

I dreamed that I was riding a whale, and that I could feel its trust in me, and consequently I needed to be extra careful to not betray that trust. My youngest brother was up there with me- the whale was more what's-his-name from Pinocchio than Free Willy, so there was a fair amount of room, so long as you didn't cover up the tiny blowhole.

It was getting dark, so I asked to spend the night at this seaside hotel, where a big party was taking place. I confused one woman for someone I actually knew, felt super awkward, and then saw my actual friend behind her. She told me it was getting stormy outside, lightning all around, crashing waves- and my whale was being attacked by a giant version of one of those horrible anglerfish things, but it also had sort of crab arms, so even more horrible than it coulda been.

Guilty for leaving, worried for my brother and the whale, I ran back outside. Turning the corner, my brother was running towards me- he had already made for shore, he was safe! Relieved on that end, I turned back to the water, running and jumping in. In an unusual turn, this isn't where I had any kind of drowning nightmare- I could breathe under water! And, almost as useful, could form some grappling/tearing water weapons (Young Justice Aqualad powers... this is indeed a first). I tore off the crab arms from the anglerfish until it sunk away, saving the whale.

Returning to land, I was commended for my efforts, but told it wouldn't do for people to know about it, that it took one person to do this, that the group efforts of the local, what, marine unit? didn't get the job done. So time was turned back such that the special unit could take a crack at it, which left me concerned that they wouldn't be able to do the job, and that the anglerfish would be back.

***

"If you're a writer, then you have to write something."

That was the challenge I spitefully rose against, lo those many years ago. It's what got me doing my comic reviews, and part of what motivated my blog entries. I haven't been doing much writing at all lately, and that quotation above has begun to eat away at me again. It thinks it's SOOO smart.

I'LL SHOW IT! I'LL SHOW ALL THE QUOTATIONS OUT THERE!!

On academic footnotes

Reading up on some language stuff, thanks to hearing about Rachel Jeantel and the controversy about whether or not she's using "correct english". I've got the latter half of her testimony up on youtube right now (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xLN1zEbUOQ) but I should probably check out the first half to really see what the deal is- probably she'd get more than yes or no questions, and I wouldn't be surprised if she was advised to change how she spoke during the break between testimonies.

But what I've heard so far, she has a problem enunciating, and that's it.

As an aside- how much does it suck to have to give testimony about the day a friend of yours died, when that friend is, according to the Zimmerman defence, accused of, what, attacking Zimmerman? She's being asked questions, by the defence, specifically to attempt to discredit her friend, Treyvon Martin. Again, that really sucks.

Presumably that first half of the interview was the prosecution interviewing her.

Regardless, I wanted to post this paragraph that contains some footnote info that I'd never learned before, from this site: http://itre.cis.upenn.edu/~myl/languagelog/archives/003588.html

"There are some things that look superficially like prescriptivism but aren't. One of these is lamenting the loss of a useful distinction. For example, a pet peeve of mine is the incorrect use of abbreviations in footnotes in scholarly writing. All too often nowadays I see v., cf., and viz used as if they all meant "see". Traditionally, these have three distinct meanings. The only one that means "see" is v., an abbreviation for vide. cf. stands for confer "compare". It is appropriately used when you want to point the reader to a contrasting view or approach.viz is properly used to indicate that the following items constitute an exhaustive list. People seem either to think that it is an alternative way of saying "see" or that it is an alternative to e.g.. (Note, by the way, that there is no period after viz. That is because it stands for videlicet and the z itself is taken to show that it is an abbreviation.)"

Cool Geoff's contribution

I was always pretty aware that ever since I'd imposed that quota on myself that if I ever failed to meet it one month then the whole thing would fall to pieces.

No, to shreds! (To shreds, you say- Professor Farnsworth)

Frantically doing whatever to match an arbitrary deadline wasn't particularly helpful, but having the out to not sit and write anything isn't exactly constructive either.

It's the end of the month, and I certainly didn't want to leave an entire month fallow of entries- especially not when I've been given a lovely post from Cool Geoff that all I have to do is copy and paste. It's a sequel of sorts to my post here: http://stonetextures.blogspot.ca/2012/10/court-date-no-names-of-course.html

Read, enjoy, and I'll see you next month.

"
So, I was asked by Isaac to write a sequel to this entry, based on my experiences. See, that "May 22, 2013 court date, in room E-2 at 10:30am" came, and I was the one who had to attend it this time. Now mind you, being the person who originally was given the tickets, this makes a whole lot of sense.

I was nervous, scared, all those normal but uncomfortable things. See, money is something I am okay with losing due to my own ignorance, combined with my own desire to not cause a fuss just for the sake of said money. If I was a lawyer, or wanted to hire one, I was sure my transgression on the road could have been argued in a way that meant a lesser charge. However, I have this weird sense of belief in the Police force, and laws in general, and basically figure that these people generally keep us safe, so I am willing to give them the benefit of the doubt even if it means some inconvenience. So, a few days before my court date, I had this sort of calm acceptance to my fate, however deserved as it may have been.

But then I found out the demerit points stay on for longer than a year. See, with going off to another country, I figured, hey I basically don't drive here for a year, points go away, everything's fine. But nope, they stay on three years. That's not fun, and insurance is expensive enough, so this made me nervous again.

After talking it over with my current homestead's maternal unit, she gave me some comforting advice about pleading guilty with an explanation. Sounded fishy to me to be honest, but it was reassuring in a "I am paranoid that this will get me into more trouble" sort of way.

I end up heading out there super early. I am stopped by a well dressed woman handing out cards, one of those "We win or it's free" deals. More on that in a little while. I take it and smile, and she apparently realizes it's too late for me, as she just says "good luck" as I walk away into the building of my fate.

After standing around for a while, I start getting nervous I am being looked at for being suspicious, so I head into the court rooms area despite still being 10-15 minutes early. I am forced to remove everything from my pockets (including that business card from earlier, it mocked me from the airport-style tray) and walked through the scanner

beepbeepbeep

The officer said it was probably just my belt. And it was. If only airports were this kind.

I walk in, and see a few officers sitting on benches up at the front of the Court Room Zone. I sort of have my incident running through my mind. Were one of these men my officer?

So I walk down the hall-ish place, and look for the sign confirming my appointment. And surely enough, courtroom E2 is the only one without a paper indication. So, I trust in Isaac, and wait. Eventually we are all led in, and I am eventually standing in a lineup to see the prosecutor, much like the original story of which this is the sequel.

Here's where the first major difference comes in. See, the man is a super friendly looking guy. Casual, but professional. Kind of like a pre-owned car salesman who personally inspects and nurses cars back to fighting form while getting to know their families. Maybe that's a comparison that makes no sense. Either way, he was a super endearing fellow with just the right amount of intimidation/lawyer-ness to keep me from completely lowering my guard. I eventually get up and he asks, similarly to the first movie, "What do you want to do?"

I nervously start muttering about how the officer told me if I brought examples of this thing I could- "Don't worry about that, it's this other one which is the problem. Do you want me to lower the charge, save some points?"

Inner me: "Yes, this would be fantastic, all my fears and anxiety is now gone, this is truly a good option for the system, myself, and the progression of today's events."

Outer me: "Yes."

Prosecutor: "Okay I'll see what I can do, have a seat"

So, really, that was it. I sat down, and waited an agonizing amount of time. Or at least it seemed like it. All the formalities happened, the clerk walked in, then the Justice, standing was had, names were read, admissions of guilt were had, a suspicious guy kept coming and leaving the court room which freaked me out.

And then it got to a woman. There was an error, so one ticket was dropped. And for the other one, no officer. She was confused, but after it was made clear she could go home, the whole court room laughed slightly and she was gone.

Then it came to me. The prosecutor pronounced my name wrong (with some hesitation), but when it came time for me to say my name, he corrected himself and said something like "Yeah I thought that might be it."

Then he says my officer isn't there and he's writing the reason in his notes. Thusly, I don't have to worry about anything.

The Justice says I am free to go.

And I go; feeling like a boulders had been separated from my shoulder blades.

And so ends the story of how Isaac's helping me out (or, noble sacrifice if you prefer) saved me hundreds of dollars.

In the end, I look at that card, and all these places with "We win or it's free" and all the deals/agreements made and I think...

Traffic Justice is weird. Really, I think the incentive to drive safe (aside from the obvious) is to not have to wait in lines. And really, I think that does a whole lot more than fines or points."

Pain & Gain

Pain & Gain, the latest film from Michael Bay (and yes, I could have easily skipped this one based on the director involved), is, according to rottentomatoes.com, an action-comedy. Well, I'm glad SOMEONE knows what this movie is supposed to be.

Based off the bizzare true story about a group of body builders back in 1994-1995 that engage in fraud, extortion, torture, and ultimately murder, in the pursuit of the American Dream... at least, that's how the movie decides to frame it. And that specific motivation is just about the only story-telling choice the creators make- that and starting the film with a scene that takes place near the end of the story, spoiling a fair bit of dramatic tension for those of us that were ten when the real life events were going on and therefore didn't know how things would play out. No spoilers for real life I guess. Also, I just have a bone to pick with the amount of anachronic order that shows up in various media with no real reason.

For all it's cartoonish excess, we can't blame Michael Bay. For once. Not counting the introduction to the Mark Whalberg character that takes longer than it needs to, the film actually moves at a pretty brisk pace, hitting beat after beat of detail that would have come up as evidence against the trio in the real life trial. Throughout the movie are captions that tell us the date, but also give use other useful information. One of the first captions says the film is based off a true story, and later, during an especially unbelievable and seemingly gratuitous part where one guy is grilling severed hands outside their base of operations so as to burn off fingerprints, the caption reads "Yes, this is STILL based on a true story."

And if that part wasn't made up, then that's it, you officially can't blame Bay for any of the craziness on screen.

What CAN be blamed on Bay and the script writers is the lack of a story that merits the making of this film into anything other than a documentary. True, making and selling a documentary isn't going to get the people in the seats like saying "new action movie from Michael Bay" (we live on a crazy planet) but the American Dream/Johnny Wu inspirational speaker (played by Ken Jeong of course) thread is just weak. It's just there. Never is it essential to the story told, which, as it is, is just a bunch of stuff that happens.

My suggestion, maybe just because it would appeal to me, is to see the crime, then follow the cool detective played by Ed Harris as he gather evidence and discovers this INSANE thing that had happened. Basically, a modern version/movie remake of Columbo.

Man, I need to watch me some Columbo.

Mark Millar's Nemesis and Jenny Sparks

Over at the bloghttp://toobusythinkingboutcomics.blogspot.ca/ they've been discussing Mark Millar as of late. The arguments have been more than convincing that the man is a decent topic for academic investigation, and so I hopped over to the library website to get some books to look at. Well, the first stuff in are the titular Nemesis and Jenny Sparks.

Jenny Sparks, the older book, serves as an after the fact introduction to the members of the Authority. So, it's a prequel episode about how everyone met. It's whatever. The British-y drunkard rebel character ala Constantine doesn't generally have any of my interest. Seeing as that's the protagonist in a nutshell, well there you go. As a personal bit of interest, the artist is John McCrea, and the book came out around 2000-2001, the same time McCrea was pencilling the last story arc of my beloved Superboy series. And I haven't seen him on anything else since. Though he may also have been the "Hitman" guy, so that's a feather in his cap. Not that I'm really a fan of the guys pencils, but where'd he go? Maybe I'm not the only one not a fan, ouch.

The second book is far more interesting, Nemesis. The premise is that of a mostly real world, but bored billionaires are paying for the excitement of being supervillains. Whether or not "Nemesis" is actually planning his own explosive capers or, and given the ending of the book, they're all planned out ahead of time by a shadowy... dude... is not explained. Probably the latter, and I'm just being thick in the head about it.

Tying in to the ideas over at toobusythinking about the thread of Millar's work, and learning about his book "Saviour", a what-if-Superman-was-the-antichrist story, I can't help but wonder about the significance of the shadowy dude at the end. Given the "realism" of the rest of the story, we could take it for granted that this is someone with ridiculous prediction skills, a Xanatos Gambit-er extraordinaire. However, in his final letter sent to the hero-antagonist of the book (as opposed to a villain protagonist, which this book also has) he makes an off the cuff comment about also being a religious man. As with everything in that letter, this line sounded both congenial and menacing. It's an odd thing to add... in fiction, rarely is it the case that someone will talk about being religious just because. I generally find such characters are in a setting where the divine is a central theme and an unquestioned truth, like say it was an angel in a story talking to someone who didn't know he was an angel. He'd give a little wink to the camera as he tells someone that he's "pretty religious".

It's for that reason that I wonder whether or not the shadowy dude is supposed to be a/the devil/antichrist. And then what is THAT trying to say?

Dunno. I'll have to send my queries over to toobusythinking.

"Artistic" Strengths

This morning I dreamed I was given a writing assignment. It's hard to remember all the different parts, but there were certain elements that, as per the assignment, had to be included in this work. Like, this one dwarfen race... that's all I can remember.

Rising to the dream challenge, I constructed a perfectly good story (emphasis on 'constructed'), and I was pleased with the result. Then, my brother old Jordan told his version. What appeared/was told was an elegent rhyming number, all the required elements beautifully incorporated, and I sat stunned. I looked around to see where his notes were, but there was nothing, no process involved, just a fully formed masterpiece.

Waking up I was glad to know it was all just a dream- however the lesson I choose to take from this is a reminder of my creative limitations. I tend to look at things as a problem to be taken down to its component parts, figured out piece by piece, then put together again. Let's say Jordan's approach is more holistic. Like say if I were tasked to draw a brick wall- I'd be forced to draw every single rectangle in there, whereas Jordan can get away with drawing a few bricks and evoking a fully bricked building... and there's no doubt that latter drawing would seem more real to you (and I mean that in addition to the natural end result of Jordan being a far better drawing-artist than myself).

A similar example of our differences- though with a much happier ending on my part- is that time back in grade 6 or 7 when our class was tasked with making some clay-to-be-fired-in-a-kiln fish. My fish, a cartoonish figure taking the barest elements of what could allowably be called "fish parts", gills, some scales, fins. Much like the example of Jordan drawing those few bricks to evoke a wall, I evoke a fish. Jordan, perhaps more ambitious, did... something. I don't even know. The result was an anchovy shaped monstrosity. Mine coulda been the fish on the Mr. Sparkle laundry box.

That example is rather confusing, as it attributes the skills of older Jordan to my younger self. Well let me make this clear. I made the job simple, broke it down, and created a fine bit of art. All that happened with Jordan's fish is, I suggest, that he tried to create Fish-Athena fully formed out of his brow... but it's a tricky thing to do, and it just won't work out every time.

I've still got MY fish thing in one piece somewheres. I really did do a good job on it.

Pitchcast

Style note: my writing has been rather coldly analytical to my ears lately. I blame my usual mimic habit, as I'm currently reading A Confederacy of Dunces and it sounds exactly the same to me. I can't wait until I read some 60's Spider-Man again so I can go back to sounding like a swinging hep cat. Or whatever.

Went to a show at the Comedy Bar tonight to watch a podcast recording. Energy levels were all around low- for me, the participants, everyone. I slumped down in a comfy leather couch near the back and stayed there. The premise of the show is that the two hosts and their three guests (who knows how many they ordinarily have, doesn't matter) get thrown a random title or actor or actress or genre or more than one of those options or all of those options, and then you get five minutes to pitch that movie.

The first pitch was about Vin Diesel, not sure what other specifics there were, but he was made President of the United States. Okay, fair enough. And he had to contend with werewolves. Again, fair enough. In addition, they were SECRET werewolves, government style, a program apparently started by John F. Kennedy.

AND THAT'S WHERE I DRAW THE LINE!!! No way, no WAY do you make a story about werewolves sponsored by the government, by the JFK presidency, and fail to mention THE SPACE RACE! I know it's a just for fun proposal made up on the spot... but come on! You were the guy the picked Kennedy! Work with your own material!

I'm blanking on what the other host pitched, which is fine, the hosts were the weakpoint here. Jimmy told the tale of John Goodman as a NASA scientist who has to fake a Mars landing to prove his job means something and therefore earning the respect of his family, who otherwise just believe he's avoiding them and wasting time. Featuring Benedict Cumberpatch as an under-utilized scientist character, and Tom Arnold as an OVER utilized friend along for the ride. The end result is the fake Mars landing gets walked in on, blowing the cover, and his family leaves him. But it turns out he's happier without them, going off fishing with Tom Arnold. Happy ending.

The second featured... forget the lead actress, but it also had Matt Damon. The project is called "Hottie on a Body" and revolves around a gypsy curse that ends up sticking Damon's disrespectful face on the stomach of the lead actress. Wackiness ensues, and eventually Damon learns just how hard it is for a woman to succeed in this workaday world.

Lastly was "Peeping Tom" starring Halle Berry and Alec Baldwin (I wanted Halle peeping on Alec so as to subvert audience expectations, but sadly this was not the case). Baldwin lives across the alley from Berry with adjoining windows. So obviously he gets obsessed with her, buys all sorts of equipment for watching her (telescope and binoculars)- but she's a lesbian and a rascist, so she'll NEVER get together with him. Apparently she's involved with the NEW Black Panthers, so Baldwin sneaks in while disguised in obvious blackface. The deception is immediately seen through, leading to the hands down funniest line of the night:

Halle Berry: "You're in blackface!!!"

Alec Baldwin: "Yeah, well YOU'RE RASCIST!!"

Amazing. So the two have a fist fight, Baldwin gets his legs broken, and so guilts Berry into sleeping with him, which naturally ends with her getting pregnant, and so they end up sharing custody. This theoretical picture was likened to Oscar winning film "Crash". So take that Crash.

I... don't have any cool quotes ready for the occasion. I set the bar too high yesterday

We drove down the highway west, old son. I can't say I enjoyed how close we followed the various cars in front of us (not counting the hearse with the "MACABRE" licence plate) and in our haste we did almost swerve into a dude and to what would surely have been a fiery death. We got honked at. I feel it was fairly justified honking.

Despite all this, I tried to keep my shotgun-seat driving to a minimum. I suppose it's the result of the same philosophy that says to never criticize a barber while you're strapped to his chair with a bare throat and he has plenty of readily accesible blades at hand.

Arriving at our west end destination, and the apartments dog safely stowed away (a load off our minds), Simon and I got right to it. What's great about working with Simon is that, beyond just being excellently strong, is that he is more than ready to accept instruction (aka: the plan) for moving whatevers, has no compunction about asking for clarification or in sharing his concerns. True, these trates make for slow going when we have to pick what to have for dinner, but in the context of moving they maximize group safety and efficiency.

As a brief aside, a week or two ago (wait... three weeks?) Jordan and I agreed to help move some stuff down at the Salvation Army Scarborough Location. For the most part this was no great chore, and we were paid $50, so, score, but when it came time to move the podium back into place it was my father and I moving it along. When we had gotten to center of the stage and needed to get it back in place I wasn't a hundred percent sure how it slotted in, additionally I wanted to suggest switching places with my father so I could have the heavy portion going in (what with him not being a spring chicken anymore). I said "Let's think about this for a second.." and was about to voice my concerns, when the Corps officer said "you can think about it all you want, but that's not going to get it moved" or something to that effect, cutting me off and marginalizing my good faith effort to get this done and keep my dad from hurting himself. Not surprisingly, my dad laughed along with the officer and got to picking up his side of the podium. I was mad and didn't care anymore, so fine, I'll pick up this end and we'll toss it around until something works. As this scenario is a common one when I move things with dad you'll understand when I say it drives me crazy to move things with him.

Back to the work Simon and I were doing. The only obstacle we really encountered was fitting the mattress and the boxspring down the stairwell. I'm not even sure how we ultimately did it- the last floor seemed to have a lower ceiling that kept getting the top corner stuck- but it worked out. I was worried about how careful we'd be asked to be with keeping the mattress off the ground or whatever (it was covered in a plastic sheet) but we were assured that it didn't really matter how we did it, a definite load off my mind.

The truck we dropped this all off on was... and here my car language is failing me. It's not a truck in the sense that it was a moving truck with a big boxy back end, but a truck that has, uh, an open top, not as much space as a moving truck. More like something you'd expect someone on a farm to own, right? Except that also gives the wrong impression, saying that makes you think of some rusted red number, when this was actually really nice, black, modern, four doors. Oh, here's how I should have described it the whole time: think Marty's truck from Back to the Future, not Optimus Prime.

There we go, that was easy after all. Thanks pop culture.

We loaded everything in the Marty's truck, and I was actually shocked at myself after the fact with how injudicious I was with my leaping off of the truck. After safely landing on terra firma I realized how easily I could have been misbalanced and tripped out of the thing, and that would end your trip real fast, wouldn't it farmboy? I resolved to be more careful when stepping around up there, and specifically preparing before jumping down in the future... but even then, later on when I needed to step up on the side of the cargo hold, an even higher, far more precarious position, I once again leaped down to the ground without thinking, only after touching down realizing- "Yeesh, that could have easily gone bad!" I was, however, pleasantly surprised at how my feet didn't get all tingly hurt/shocked from such a drop. I guess my shoes are holding up all right after all.

Ah, I've just realized a good quote I could've used for the title: "Don't think. Feel." - Bruce Lee, Enter the Dragon

If a squirrel could second guess their leaps from tree branch to branch, there'd undoubtedly be a lot more squirrels dropping down to the ground. Guess I'm lucky I'm not a squirrel. That said, it was pretty fun to be jumping around.

We took Lakeshore Boulevard east to the Beaches, it must have been 3 something. Traffic was terrible at Lakeshore and Bathurst but once we passed by Spadina we did far better than I expected. Also, the truck with the mattress, box spring, and chair in the back cargo area didn't get stopped by the cops and get ticketed or anything. Whew.

We didn't need to move the bed stuff into the new apartment, that stuff was heading Kingston bound, so it was just a bookcase and the chair going in, with the bed stuff just needing a readjustment to lay flat in the truck with the new space afforded it.

Our hosts father, a genial man, was very nice to Mister Simon. Knowing Simon, that probably weirded him out. Good times.

With the last bit moved in we were offered payment. I considered turning it down, since I had previously said I just wanted to do a nice thing... but it's hard to get around the fact that I do need cash when I can get it. We were actually offered $100 to split between the two of us and I felt my eyes bulge a bit. Our "boss" looked at us a little funny, worried, I imagine, that she had offended us with a low amount. I quickly assured her that that amount was just very very great to us.

I gave Simon $60, I took $40, which slightly eased my conscience, and Simon did deserve it, not knowing this person, not wanting to go, being sick, and just helping me out.

AND we got a ride home afterwards, saving me the $3 I brought for Simon's bus ride back, and also saving Simon's tokens, which HE had brought for the bus ride back. At least we were prepared for the bus if needed!

"Be Strong To Be Useful" - Georges Hébert

On Wednesday I saw a facebook post from an acquaintance/new friend asking for someone to help them move stuff on Friday. The replies were generally "can't make it" or "too frail to help" (yup, they did actually say "frail"). Well, I didn't have work on Friday, nor did I have any other conflicting dealy scheduled. Why not help?

So I offered my assistance, an offer which was readily accepted. Preparatory texts were exchanged during the Thursday while I was at work (texts sent during my break of course). A new wrinkle was that it seemed no one else had really answered the call to lend a hand, and I was therefore doubtful about the feasability of just me and this woman moving a queen sized bed down three flights of stairs, despite her assurance that she was really quite strong. I said I'd try to get one of my brothers to help out.

At home that night, I asked Simon if he could help. He hasn't been feeling particularly well (neither have I for that matter, as discussed in my previous post) but he said maybe, depending on whether the start time was late enough that he could get all his gunk out of his system, and if Jordan didn't agree to help.

Jordan clung to the fact that his back has been hurting, and that the doctor said to take it easy. That's fine- I love Jordan, but when it comes to moving things with me, Simon is my go-to, number one choice.

When Simon did agree to help, I said something (I forget what) that Simon misheard as me stating that "I KNEW he'd do it", which almost turned him against the whole outing. I quickly said I didn't mean that at all, and in fact thought it was a minor miracle he agreed to help. He didn't like my saying that either. Ah, what a unique guy!

I was asked by everyone how I knew this person I'd volunteered to help, and I said I didn't really know her all that well, having only met her the two or three times in person before. The resultant shock that registered on my family's face was gratifying, and indicative, I thought, of me actually doing something pretty nice and out of the ordinary.

When Simon and I walked out to her waiting car, a small white number with an embarrassing personalized licence plate, she thanked us repeatedly and explained why her 70+ year old father couldn't help... I guess not realizing that being 70+ is in itself a totally valid reason. I was plenty uncomfortable with the repeated thanks, not wanting either her or myself to get an inflated sense of the value of the service offered. It's no good for her to feel guilty about accepting help, nor in me becoming self righteous in helping. I could help, so I should. At any rate, the world would be a better place if we tried to live like that.

I'll continue this story tomorrow, at the moment I need to sleep.

Illness Chronicle- repeated mentioning of snot and mucus, you've been warned

I seem to be having a very rough time getting well, which is unusual for me. Old school style bouts of bronchitis notwithstanding, I tend to bounce back from illness rather fast. Last week I was mighty sick, but on the mend. I felt well enough to hit the gym on Monday. I hadn't even stayed an hour, trying to keep my expectations reasonable after being sick.

(Although, come to think of it, despite the condensed time frame, I had actually used heavy weights than normal... in retrospect, I guess that was stupid.)

As you no doubt suspect by now, I had myself a relapse after Monday. Nothing too serious, mostly just the annoying return of a running nose- preferrable to the chest congestion I had before- but it was a definite backslide. On a friend's advice I tried a nasal spray to clear things out, a strategy I've maybe tried once or twice before in my entire life.

It was most unpleasant. Not sure the most effective way to get the medicine where it needs to go, spray and simultaneously breathe vs. spray then breathe. I went with the former option and it felt pretty messed up. I could taste the medicine! Highly gross, and ruined my enjoyment of a glass of water. However, I did seem to breathe better... untill about 5am when I woke up with two green-white snot trails (too much information?) I tried the nasal spray again, this time going with the more comfortable spray then breathe. The result, when I tried to lay down and go back to sleep (in effect tilting my head back, which the spray bottle specifically tells you not to do- my bad) was a steadier flow than ever, and I couldn't really fall asleep again until about an hour before I had to get up for work on Thursday.

Simon gave me a couple of cold and flu tablet things yesterday which seemed to work wonderfully.

Despite the mucus I needed to dislodge upon waking up (blowing my nose, coughing for a slight congested chest again) I feel pretty good today. I will not be taking that as a personal go-ahead to hit the gym today, I have every intention of taking it supremely easy on myself and getting back to 100%.

Never really watched much of that midnight society, but I'll reference its show anyways

I'm not particularly in the mood to write at the moment (what, you thought I'd say "right now?"... yes, okay, that almost happened. "Write right". That's bad. Except for when I decide it sounds good. Which is invariably any moment now.)

But a quick post to get the months entries started is hardly horrible (there, I made with the alliteration).

I had wanted to make note of an interesting phenomenon where I dreamed that I was confronted by an old women who accused me of ignoring her, laying the guilt on thick with her mock surprise at the surely faulty postal service for never delivering the mail I had SURELY sent to her. While this was said she menacingly touched the back of my head. I awoke with a start, but feeling an odd, creepy sensation of a sort of tautness at the back of my skull.

No doubt had I been able to check the back of my head I'd have found goosebumps.

With "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" to come on soon afterwards. BOOM!

See what I did there... 'cause.. because Goosebumps is the name of a scary kids show (also line of horror books for the youth) so I just made it a reference...

But it seriously was super creepy.

Alphabot night!!

Whew, and even with a tvtropes binge, I have 18 minutes to finish this last post and make quota. Ha ha! Once again! And even though this was my absolute cheating-est showing ever (really, 9 posts in one day?) some of these entries are downright interesting.

So last Thursday was a performance at The Piston by a friend of mine who performs as Jake/Alphabot! But my journey to the place to a few detours.

My understanding was that the show started at 9pm, right when I got off work (okay I left at like 9:10). I stopped at the McDonald's at this here Eaton Centre, never tried the new one before, and got a dirty look from the cleaning staff when I sat in their precious closed area. I'm sorry!

(Uh, definitely need to skrimp on details)

On the subway, who should I run into but, someone I know! A friend of mine! So we had a grand old time chatting it up, and I passed my stop by two so we could continue to hang and I walked her home. Fun surprise! Then I hop back onto the subway, get off at Ossington, head out the back way (Dovercourt?) cross the street where the Comedy Bar is, and who should I spy but ANOTHER FRIEND!! OF MINE! Fantastic! So I chatted with him a bit about what have you... I slightly forget. Community vs. Modern Family definitely came up. By this time it was about 10:20pm and I hoped I hadn't missed the Piston show.

Walking over the two or three doors, heading to the back... almost totally empty. Wha-? Did I miss it?

I walked out, and who should come up on the street, but the man Jake himself. Apparently heavy delays happened for some reason, I don't know. But soon after the show started. The show started with this girl Gabby singing and guitaring it up, and I talked to her after the show. She went to York studying music, and seemed to intuit that I did comic stuff. It's highly HIGHLY possible that she'd seen me at York somewhere's about with my personal comic project. I don't know, maybe. Regardless, she was super nice, so that was cool.

The next performer was from  Norway... or someplace similar? I'm sorry Norway! And Mark! I think your name was Mark. He had a voice that you can tell will only get more awesome with age in that Johnny Cash way, and sung some darkly hilarious stuff (bit of a trend, with this guy and the last, Wax Mannequin... ah, no time to check spelling!!)

Alphabot was third, and had far and away the most audience participation. Lotta dance-thing happening. Not necesarily by me, unless you count extreme foot tapping and head nodding (I'm so cool, obviously) but yeah. Big success times for everyone!

Yeah, if you couldn't tell, my typing has become rather frantic. And I think I'm call it there.

In summation: a good time was had by all!

Kamen Rider Blade

Though I complained about it the whole way through, those complaints were accompanied by the idealistic/cynical (depending on your perspective) comments from my brother expecting me to eventually love it, like with what happened with Kamen Rider Ryuki. Well, I can now unequivocally state that I have a least favourite Rider series. Easily.

And it is Blade.

The problems with Blade are twofold, though they relate to a single problem. The main Rider, Blade himself, is not just the least interesting of the characters, it's almost they worked at making him uninteresting. Part of the core concept was that this was a series where it was the characters job to be a Rider. We'd often hear the echo of, in regards to going off to be a hero, "it's your job, isn't it?", however when the power upgrade thing shows up by a new mentor that only really shows up for two or three episodes, he asks Blade to figure out his REAL motivation. "To protect people!" or something. Cut me some slack, that was a while ago.

The point is, there is no overarching theme to Blade the character. He isn't even a generic nice guy! One of the earliest episodes had him despondently decide not to do the Rider thing until he was talked back into it.

He apparently wants to save everyone because his parents died in a fire before his eyes, but this is never a major plot point, with the slight exception of when he has to prove that heroes exist to this one girl who similarly lost her family in a tragic accident.

In the first episode we're introduced to Blade as almost an apprentice Rider to Garren... but it's immediately established that Blade is totally stronger than Garren.

The second problem, which, as I said, ties into the first, is that the series can't decided on a storyline to pursue EITHER.

Fighting against a Rider turned rogue, Garren? Nope, he was good.
The Chief of the B.O.A.R.D.  that created the Riders is evil, and that's why Garren kidnapped him.
Nope, more of a misunderstanding on both parts.
The Chief is in a coma with necessary info- we need to find him, heal him, and get this info! They immediately find him, he isn't in a coma.
A Category King monster (the series is based off of a card deck, with the heroes seal and use the powers of the monsters, Aces to transform, King-Jack for power ups, 6 card is an elemental attacks, and I suppose the other cards get proportionately stronger the higher number they are...) with crazy telekinetic powers wants to create the ultimate rider by sealing another Ace monster and doing... something with it. He gets Garren to serve him in exchange for stopping Garren's psychosomatic power meltdown. Things are looking up! This guy will totally be the bad guy of this series!

...Nope. The monster kills Garrens girlfriend, which removes the psychosomatic problem (I'm not afraid of anything now..) and Garren seals the guy, though not before sealing that Category Ace Spider Undead (the monsters are called Undead) and having a new Rider belt made. An EVIL belt!

Okay, so this new evil belt Rider, Leangle, is TOTALLY the bad guy of the series, right? You get where I'm going with this.

We go from there, to various suped up Undead that end up getting sealed easily enough, a cool guy with a desire to kill criminals for the slightest of crimes and who has a sweet machine arm that electrifies people (he's a reference to Riderman!) to the guy that originally released the Undead, except he turns out to be, essentially, a monster clone of himself, and taking orders from the ORIGINAL guy in charge of B.O.A.R.D. that we'd never heard of before, and this guy is looking promising, but we're already like, seven episodes from the end of the series, and it's too little too late... but even HE doesn't make it to the end, getting killed off by the last King level monster, who takes this special card to power up enough to be a threat... and then THAT guy doesn't last. The final two episodes revolve around the Joker Undead being the last one standing, which, based off the rules of the "Battle Fight" (ha ha, that's a great translation) means everyone gets destroyed.

So I think I've made my point. What were they doing? What were they trying to say? I don't think they even knew.

Let's get into the Riders a bit:

Credit where it's due, the suits were actually pretty sweet this series, unlike the Ryuki suit which I didn't like. That's Blade second from the left, Leangle to his right, Garren on the far right, and last but not least, Chalice on the far left. I could have made that clearer.

In order from left to right: Chalice, Blade, Leangle, and Garren, who represent Heart, Spade, Club, and Diamonds respectively. I kind of think Leangle suit is doofy with his helmet, but his character spends most of the time as an antagonist, so who cares I guess.

The most interesting Rider is Chalice, or Hajime-san in his human form. Because the dude is actually an Undead that is at first simply curious about humanity, so assumes their form, but gradually grows to love them and wants to remain with them, even while keeping up his rather gruff exterior with everyone but little Amane-chan... and to some extent Amane's mother. Seriously, the degree to which Amane loved Hajime should have REALLY freaked the mother out, but they glossed over that. Yet another thing they could have explored in this series but NEVER did.

At first it was assumed that Hajime wass really the Ace of Hearts Undead, but nnnnnope. In truth, he's the Joker Undead, the one monster that, if it wins the "Battle Fight" will result in the end of anything. And as Joker, Hajime is a beastly omnicidal maniac, however when he seals the Ace of Hearts he gets some consciousness of his own, which is expanded on when he seals the 2 of Hearts Undead, the Human Undead. all of this happened before the series starts, so we had no clue about what being the Joker Undead meant until well into the series.

Okay, I need to explain the purpose of the Battle Fight so that a "Human Undead" makes sense. The idea is that 10, 000 years ago all the Undead fought in the Battle Fight, and each Undead monster represented a potential dominant species for the planet. The last Undead standing would determine the dominant species of the planet. So, impossible though it seems, in that big time fight 10, 000 years ago, the lowly 2 OF HEARTS won. How exactly the human Undead won is NEVER explained, even though that surely would have been an awesome story.

When Blade (real name Kazuma Kenzaki) achieves his ultimate powered form, the presence of this power overides Ace of Hearts and 2 of Hearts ability to suppress the Joker, so it runs rampant again. Not wanting to seal Hajime who is usually a friend despite his surliness, Kenzaki goes about finding all the Heart cards, assuming that having all of the cards would provide a power boost similar to Kenzaki having all his Spade cards gave him, thereby suppressing Joker again. To do this Kenzaki had to barter away first his super form enabler thingy, and then he had to give up his actual henshin device with a promise that he'd surrender himself to the evil clone monster dude (though he didn't know he was evil at the time), and THEN he had to get the cards themselves to the rampaging Joker, all now without the ability to transform to Blade. In my mind this was far and away the most interesting thing Kenzaki did.

And now that I think about it, he also was blackmailed into losing the henshin device when his little buddy Kotarou was kidnapped, and again when that one girl who needed to see heroes exist, he was forced to ditch the henshin device then too, and ended up getting shot a bunch of times by the monster in question. Finally, there's how Blade saves the planet at the end, where he sacrifices his own humanity, becoming an Undead, so that he and Joker both exist and the world won't end, and Joker can continue living as Hajime with Amane-chan and what's her name. The mother.

So there was a perfectly serviceable method of giving Kenzaki/Blade a unique way as a Rider, making his one of self sacrifice. I'd have totally gotten behind that! However, without it's use as a deliberate, or at any rate, overt, them I can't give them the credit.

Also, it's said that Kenzaki being able to absorb the power of his 13 cards to power up his King Form was an anomaly. This WAS foreshadowed early on, when the three available Riders at the time had their "fusion ratings" measured- Tachibana/Garren's fusion rate went down (curse you psychosomatic fear ailment!), whereas Chalice and Blade's went up.

So Chalice's went up because he was an Undead/Joker. WHY did it happen to Kenzaki? This was ALSO NEVER EXPLORED. It was said that Kenzaki was recruited to be a Rider by B.O.A.R.D. because of his desire to save people after being unable to save his parents in that fire. To have this all tie in together, they should have said that that trauma specifically somehow made this turn-into-an-Undead thing possible, and that he was recruited specifically because of the power being an actual Undead would yield, or for some sinister purpose by the leader of B.O.A.R.D. that we'd never met before... or something. And that girl that similarly lost her family could have also shown some turn into an Undead fusion power thing (not that she ever transformed... though it'd have been easy enough to grab Kenzaki's device in the fight when he had specifically dropped it..).

To sum it all up and move on, even as I thought Ryuki wasted it's premise, Blade didn't even fully develop a premise to waste. And is therefore an exponentially bigger waste of potential.

A Fistful of Dollars

Whoa there tvtropes, stop distracting me, I'm trying to catch up on blog posts!

I've wanted to watch this Man With No Name Trilogy for a while, and have finally seen the first installment. And it's mega cool.

Eastwood as the eponymous man, though he does get called Joe by the undertaker (or possibly the bartender). It's my understanding that he's called something else random in the other films... also, these movies weren't necessarily about the same person. But come on. All star Eastwood, and they all wear the same outfit.... it's the same guy.

So Eastwood drifts into a junky town inhabited by two rival gangs. He proceeds to take out three gang members ("my mistake... four"), then go to the other gang for a job based on his killing credentials. He secretly goes back and forth between the gangs, essentially getting both groups to pay HIM to take them apart. It's awesome.

He eventually decides to help this one terrorized family out, sneaking them away from the gangs and giving them a huge chunk of his money (if not all he had at the time) so they could escape. This act ended up getting him caught, and he gets beat near to death by the gang. Until they leave him alone for a SECOND and he sets up a trap for them and crawls away from the compound (literally crawls).

He gets the coffin-maker to sneak him out of town in a coffin (of course), where he holes up in an abandoned cave to heal up before he heads back in to town to finish cleaning the place out.

... but not before fashioning a bit of protection. "A bullet proof vest! Great flic! Great flic!"

I had to watch this one! Big time referenced in Back to the Future III

Looking forward to the other two.

Overnight with Romanians

In preparation for some big howdy-do even at the Yorkdale mall (I assume) the Michael Kors was doing some construction at the place overnight. For whatever reason, the regular guy was sick or couldn't make it, or whatever, so I got the call at 2 in the afternoon to go do this.

In theory I could have said no, but I could really use the dough. So.

I packed up some essentials, a big bag of jelly beans for one (just thinking about them makes me want more... which is funny, because I was plenty sick of them by the end of the night.) and headed over. For my reports sake I asked the name of the Guard who was there beforehand.

"You don't remember my name? Aww.."

Ah, I see what's going on here. You think I'm my brother Jordan (who works at this store, and I USED to work at this store). No, we've never met.

"Oh, well, good to meet you man. I'm Darryl."

"Oh, you're working overnight now?" One of the Michael Kors girls... thinks I'm Jordan too.

No, I'm not my brother.

So, not entirely surprising, everyone seems to have assumed a continuity of guards. I was naturally offended by the lack of interest in whether or not they know who it is standing in front of their store all day.

When the girls were leaving I told one of them to be nice to my brother. She said "we'll treat him as if he was you!"

I replied "treat him better than that." Hopefully my disapproval was registered.

Of the four construction guys that showed up, one was this affable, slightly chunky guy (he really wasn't that bad, but he self described himself as a 'fat kid', so I'll.. give it to him?), an older, almost surfer, dude, and the two eponymous romanian guys.

The first two did next to nothing that night, partially fair enough as they couldn't do their thing while the romanian dudes worked on cleaning the tiles on the floor. The first two left for several hours, this night was St. Patricks Eve, or Eve's Eve. Regardless, when the two returned the surfer guy was... he seemed drunk. In a related story, I have a souvenir of that night, a Steam Whistle brewery glass (pint glass?) shaped like a boot. I didn't necessarily want it, but it's something for the trophy room commemorating my adventure of the night spent at Michael Kors!

Anyways, I felt embarrassed to not only be standing around with the insulting job of making sure these guys don't steal anything, but to be in anyway culturally affiliated with the first two construction guys. The Romanian duo put in their time and effort, they worked hard all night.

The younger of the two, Danny, was 21 and engaged to be married. I correctly assumed his fiancee wasn't from Canada. No, she was from Romania as well. I pointed out that girls here are different from Europe (seemed a pretty fair assumption as well) and they agreed. They counseled my to head over to Europe for a wife. I'll, uh, take it under advisement.

The second one, I forget his name, but he was slightly older and already married. He's got a kid, coincidentally named 'Isaac', which I think was a good call on his part, with another on the way.

Actually, this guy was pretty ripped bicep-wise, which made it (sorry) kind of funny when he had trouble lifting this one thing that should have been a cakewalk. Seems clear to me that the guy was at the gym earlier that day, hence the especially bulging aspect of his bicep and relative weakness. I didn't ask him to confirm my guess, but I'm pretty confident.

They asked me if I'd ever get into contruction, and I replied that though I have a ton of respect for the act of concretely (heh pun) contributing to society, a) it's not really my skill set, and b) how do you even get in to construction? It seems to be the case that everyone in construction knows somebody in the business, and that's how you get in.

So, how did you guys get in construction?

"Everybody's in contruction in Romania."

Ah, well in that case, you definitely did know somebody. Like, anybody.

As we were talking about travel, and with my experiences limited to Canada and the U.S., I naturally expressed my opinion of "boo America" (it's a technical term). The married guy, his wife I guess has dual citizenship with the U.S. and Romania, so he has closer ties with the country, and it was funny to watch the younger guy, Danny, needle the elder with the slightly accented cry of "Yeah, America SUCKS" a good humoured smile spread across his face.

It's funny. In many ways, these two have lived a life far beyond my purview, with an enviable certainty of "the next step". Get married. Have a big mess o' kids. Keep at the construction thing. They're part of a tradition stretching back generations. The absurdities of life, to them, are just "the way it is". They are cogs in the machine, and I mean that with absolutely no disrespect. To contrast, I'm more like a cog laying outside the machine. A hunk of metal, but not really doing much.

At least I'm a hunk *wink*

The two were done their stuff by 4:30am, but I was stuck there until 9am or the management showed up and let me loose, whichever came first. After an interminable period of head buzzing, teeth rotting (jelly beans) every-10-minutes-phone-alarm-sounding time the management arrived around 8:30am. They were shocked to find all the furniture still shoved together, and I explained that, ah, Shawn was his name, the older surfer drunk guy, had said "aw, you guys can leave everything as is, they've got morning guys that can take care of this."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

"Really?!?"

"Yes."

So there really is no one to blame other than that Shawn guy. He was in charge and the others asked him several times for clarification, but there it is.

I agreed to help the two girls move everything into place, and they said they didn't know what they'd do without me. Other than call the mall security guys to help. So there's that.

But still, it was pretty gratifying to see how much stronger I was than they were. Not that I had to do anything particularly special to achieve that other than have a male physiology and be a foot taller (square/cube law has been my catch phrase lately). But MAYBE my years of exercise helped? Maybe?

Come on. Let me have this one.

Thank you.

Pokemon Tournament!!!

Several weeks back now the anime club up at York University held a Pokemon tournament. Yes! There was a single and double battle format, and a lot of people were pumped and had been preparing for the thing for a while. Apparently one guy, who did very poorly last year and wasn't up on the game at all... got better. He studied all the tips and tricks, he didn't care if it was cheap, so long as the rules allowed it, he was going with the best of the best. I ended up going against him in the double battle tournament, and I'll get into how that went when I get there.

Mine was basically a water team, a baton passing, dream world Vaporeon, a Whiscash, a Ludicolo (mine's named Eastwood, and is the man), a Kangaskhan bred special for the event with the scrappy ability, a baton passing, quiver dancing Venomoth, and a basic Rotom for light screen/rain dancing.

Getting ready for the tournament, battling Jordan, I continually smoked him with these guys, even with his crazily good trained Espeon, so I was confident going in.

However, the first guy I fought, a dude actually dressed up as Red from the first game, started off with a Skill link Cloyster with shell smash and focus band. I didn't stand a chance. He swept my entire team with that one guy. In retrospect, what I probably should have done was lead off with a rain dance, then next turn when he probably kills rotom, switch to kangaskhan, sucker punch attack to break the focus sash, and then when kangaskhan gets killed switch to Eastwood, who has the double speed from the rain dance, and mega drain the guy, whose already terrible defences are made worse by shell smash.

But even IF I knew about the focus sash, and did all that... well, that's ONE of his guys down, and I've lost two already. Do-able.... except the OTHER guy he had (we showed our teams after the match to each other) was a dream world ditto, which would match me if I ever tried to power up a guy with baton pass and attempt a sweep of my own. Which is something I almost certainly would have tried. Basically, this was the worst possible match up for me. Boo.

So I was knocked out right away from the singles tournament.

While waiting for the doubles a couple of girls from the psychology department entered to ask anyone in a relationship to fill out a survey. Darkly hilarious- the anime club? Relationship? At a pokemon tournament? These two were barking up the wrong tree. We bullied PJ into filling out a form, he's got a baby with this girl, he's definitely relationship statused. This other club guy, Richard (cool guy) was also spoken for, but didn't volunteer to help. When I realized he just didn't want to fill anyhing out, I had to mentally applaud him for keeping his cool.

For my part, I was sorely tempted to ask one of the girls out, just for the sake of immediately after taking a form and filling it out. It woulda been... sort of funny? Yeah, probably for the best that I didn't.

Meanwhile, this guy Zack was freaking out that he lost. Which was something he does everytime he loses things. It's, uh, pretty annoying. He let loose some pretty major sighs to try and get some attention, but I wasn't having any of it. It's not all about you bud. You want a conversation, I can make that happen, and I'll even ask you about yourself, there'll be a whole back and forth.. thing.

Jordan was impressed that I didn't tell the crazy depressed guy anything horrible. So I see my bar is pretty low with that guy.

At the beginning of the tourney we had to record who we were using for the single tournament so we could get started. Fine by me, since I'd had that planned for weeks. It was just the doubles format that I still hadn't decided on.

"Do you also want us to tell you our doubles picks???" said Jordan.

"Oh, yeah, so everyone also add your doubles picks." said event organizer person.

And I just looked at Jordan with acid tipped daggers flying from my eyes. "I TOLD YOU I WASN'T READY TO CHOOSE THAT!"

"Oops." Classic Jordan.

Fortunately, they didn't force me to pick then, so it was all good. But man, that goombah.

So for the doubles I went with my Reuniclus Akira, my Cofagrigus Kiyoko- both hefty pokemon, slow as molasses, both with Trick Room to switch speeds around for 5 turns or so. These two were actually holdovers from my team from the last years tournament. We only needed 4 for the doubles match, so then I went with my Conkeldurr Mr Myx that Jordan bred for me with Mach Punch, AND a guy I'd just transferred from my gold version, who was himself sent forward from one of the Hoenn games, my Crawdaunt named Longshot!

What happened to me last year with this team is that either Akira or Kiyoko would get dog piled on, and because I didn't use Trick Room with both of them (as doing that cancels out the effect) there was a 50/50 chance of even getting the move out... a move essential to the success of my team.

My solution? Have both pokemon use Trick Room, even if that's stupid. AND IT WORKED!

My first matchup in doubles was against Jordan. He used fakeout, so one of my guys (Akira, the guy actually vulnerable to fakeout) wasn't able to use his move. So Kiyoko did it. And that was all she wrote, all my guys were faster, I took him out.

My next match was against Mike, the fellow I mentioned at the beginning who had dedicated his recent life to becoming "the very best/Like no one ever was". I've actually got this match saved on my DS due to the awesomeness.

Mike started with Haxorus and Hitmontop. PJ was watching my moves and thought I was being a stupid idiot to have two guys use trick room... but again IT WORKED. Hitmontop faked out Akira, and Haxorus used outrage on Kiyoko (to be fair, outrage goes where it wants to go, no choice on that).

Well, hefty being that it is, Kiyoko takes the hit, uses trick room, and now I'm the fastest thing alive. I use Destiny Bond on Kiyoko, killing the formerly full HP Haxorus, and Psychic attack the fighting type Hitmontop. mu- mu- MWHAHAHAHA.

Oh yes.

And that was it basically. I tore apart his opener, and finished with both My Myx and Longshot still alive... which was quite a trick for Longshot, who was burned and took an earthquake from my own other guy and yet still lived. Dude, Longshot is a boss, just throwing that out there.

PJ was dumbstruck at how stupid the strategy of using Trick Room with both guys, but also figures it would work on him too because of it's stupidity. Which, you know, really means its genius.

My next match, the finals were against this really cool guy Nam. Very chill, but was a finalist for a reason. Let's see, he started with Gyrados and... someone. Can't remember. I took a long time with my first move, because I didn't think fake out was coming (again) so I needed to decided whether this was the time for two Trick Rooms again. Eventually... I went with no. I got Akira to trick room, and Kiyoko to shadowball (I'm pretty sure that's how it went down). Nam used taunt... on Kiyoko! My trick room goes off, and things are swinging from there.

Unfortunately, he's got a Staraptor on his team, who's got super effective attacks for both My Myx and Longshot. I aim a stone edge at him... and it misses! Augh! That was what cost me the match. He couldn't take my own hit, I couldn't take his, I was faster, but I missed, he didn't.

Curse you rock moves! Curse your lack of perfect accuracy!

Regardless, it was a great match, I was happy to play against the guy and I earned second place in doubles, the prize being a $10 Best Buy gift card and a little foam luxury ball. Score!

It's called being a Pokemon Master, brah.

I got way too into this post.

Robert Coover II Ghost Town

Where Noir had a tendency towards hopping from place to place, the earlier work Ghost Town (12 years older than Noir, published in 1998) takes this quality to the extreme. While I picked it up to get a feel for the author, I ALSO wanted a western. Keep in mind, I ordered both books at once, and I probably wouldn't have got two after reading the one. And that's especially true had I read this one first.

What we're given here is rather a long wet dream the author had, and it was cowboy themed. Characters that had previously been killed return, the town rolls to and from the protagonist, he can't go where he wants/lacking in personal autonomy. Every other line is "X happened, as if Y", the reliance on simile is jarringly obvious to extend the "narrative".

Once again, the story is nothing more than tropes piled one on top of the other, unique only by the utter lack of original substance.

It was a draining book to read.

Interesting note: Noir had only 192 pages, with very large print. Ghost Town is 147 pages, but with much smaller print. So, both are small books, but what appears to be the shorter of the two is actually longer... uh, but again, there's more of an actual story in Noir, so take from this what you will.

Another similarity: In Noir, the secretary turned out to also be the Widow that hired the detective. Ghost Town has the Chanteuse either also be the Schoolmarm, or assumes the identity of the schoolmarm- although considering how everything follows dream logic it can be both/neither/any permutation you want. It's super lame when the only two things you read from a guy have that same twist. It's an odd thing seeing an author tackle the same themes time and again... although, tackling themes is obviously different than having literally the same thing happen.

There is, however, at least one part I thought was pretty funny:
P.72 (needed context- the main guy is getting married to the chanteuse, despite his objections. Remember, no one listens to anything he has to say, because it's all dream logic and he can't do nothing about nothing. Super frustrating. Anyways)

"Belle, I know yu're wantin t'git right at it, says the pegleg, but shouldnt he have some pants on? Anyhow leastways fer the cerymonies? He's desprit unsightly down thar, it kinder turns my stomach.
I ain't finished patchin em up, says the chanteuse, wiggling her hips into a velvet and silk wedding gown. And they stink purty bad. He'll hafta go like he is.
Well aint yu at least got a ole skirt or sumthin t'hide him in?
I ain't wearin no skirt, he says flatly.
And I aint marryin no cowboy in one niether, says Belle, buttoning up.
Awright, gimme it then, he says. I'll wear it."

Credit wear it's due, Coover is good at phonetically copying the western dialect. But I aint readin another book of his anytime soon.

Robert Coover I Noir

Appropriately, Noir is another go at distilling the detective novel to its base elements for consumption, but unlike the New York Trilogy approaches it from the opposite angle. Instead of taking it to its simplest terms: a man, a mystery- Coover loads cliche and trope after cliche and trope, appropriating the atmosphere that the mystery writers who've come before have established. So OF COURSE the protagonist has a trenchoat and fedora. Of course he smokes and drinks to excess. Of course he has a weakness for dames. Of course he loves his city. And hates it. Descriptions of Chiaroscuro lighting ("One bright light source leaves everything else in shadow"- tvtropes laconic description of Chiaroscuro, common in noir stories) and time spent checking out gams (P. 34- "Legs are legs, Mr. Noir. There are more of them than there are people." Ha, true.)

　
Coover gives too unlikable a protagonist, who isn't good enough at his job. Things just happen to him, the mystery more or less solves itself. Granted, the feeling isn't entirely unique to this story, The Big Sleep had this element to it, however that one, along with being a seminal work in the tradition of the gumshoe, also brought with it the feeling that the hero did acconplish something, and something pretty cool too. Not so with Noir.
　

More important is the wishy-washyness of the narrative. It jumps back and forth in time, diverges to past cases (not too often, too bad. The past cases were kind of enjoyable). I thought I was doing a good job of keeping things straight, and then one character was talking that I was sure was dead at that point. The wool was pulled over my eyes, and I couldn't forgive the story for it.
　

Spoiler. The novel ends with the whole thing being an invention of the secretary to get a partnership in the detective agency. I thought that was pretty lame.
　

Coover has a prodigious vocabulary, so more dictionary terms!

　
appurtenance 1. something subordinate to another, more important thing; adjunct; accessory.

2. Law. a right, privilege, or improvement belonging to and passing with a principal property.
　

　
supine lying or resting on the back with the face, palm, etc, upwards

　
assiduous constant in application or effort; working diligently at a task; persevering; industrious; attentive

　
penumbral 1. a fringe region of half shadow resulting from the partial obstruction of light by an opaque object (actually for "penumbra")

　
jodhpurs riding breeches cut very full over the hips and tapering at the knees to become tightfitting from the knees to the ankles. (I KNOW I've looked that one up before..)

　
deicer a device or a chemical substance for preventing or removing ice. (Ooooh a de-icer. I was thinking like, a 'dice-er', what's that?)

　
bascinetts (apparently not a real word? The internet has failed me, and I didn't record where in the book this was, so I can't recheck context and spelling..)
　

supercilious haughtily disdainful or contemptuous, as a person or a facial expression.

　
métier a field of work or other activity in which one has special ability or training; forte. (ooooh you mean bailiwick)
　

cosh a blackjack; bludgeon

The New York Trilogy

The New York Trilogy, a 308 page book of three parts, was something else I had read during my university career, but the difference between this and Gatsby is that I really wasn't too concerned with the idea that I'd forgotten what the thing was about. Instead, re-reading this was a bit of a fact finding reassurance mission- I'd recommended it to a friend of mine, and wanted to recheck whether I was right to do so. I bit of an out of the way thing to check, but whatever. And I can say with some confidence that I think I have indeed made a good call. So yay me.

The books contained within are 'City of Glass', 'Ghosts', and 'The Locked Room', all done by Paul Auster in the late 80's. Which still feels like they're brand new.

Let's get some dictionary housekeeping out of the way:

penury extreme poverty or scarcity

　
scrofulous 1. pertaining to, resembling, of the nature of, or affected with scrofula. aka tuberculosis. 2. morally tainted.

　
divagations to wander, stray. To digress in speech
　

harangue
1. a scolding or a long or intense verbal attack; diatribe.

2. a long, passionate, and vehement speech, especially one delivered before a public gathering.

3. any long, pompous speech or writing of a tediously hortatory or didactic nature; sermonizing lecture or discourse.

　
Baudelaire
1821--67, French poet, noted for his macabre imagery; author of Les fleurs du mal (1857) (someone to look into in the future- though I have heard of him before)

Special Quotes:

P.137: "Blue looks through the binoculars and reads the title of the book that Black is reading. Walden, by Henry David Thoreau."

The quote here isn't particularly important, however I couldn't help but wonder if it's this reference that got me to read Walden. I know I was reading this at the same time I took an American Literature class that mentioned Walden. Most likely after those two references I went "Okay, I get it, I'll read Walden! Stop shoving it in my face!"

P. 292: "But that was the thing that thrilled me - the randomness of it, the vertigo of pure chance."

Important quote because, considering who I recommended this book to and why, well, this quote is perfect.

So, City of Glass. It's about a writer who writes detective stories getting confused for a detective who is named the same as the author Paul Auster, who does appear in the novel, but again, isn't a detective, having to follow the father of his client Peter Stillman, who is himself named Peter Stillman. Yup, it's one of those stories. And I've actually left out some of the craziness. It (like all of the New York Trilogy) is actually a very minimalist detective story. Very little action, few clues. It just sort of goes on... it just astounds me how a novel can be written with such sparcity of detail. And be good. There's a comic book adaptation of this one, so you can check the whole thing out in an hour if you like. Mentioning that fact before I said "adaption" instead of "adaptation". Embarrassing.

Ghosts may be my favourite, just listen the description the book jacket gives: "Blue, a student of Brown, has been hired by White to spy on Black. From a window of a rented room on Orange Street, Blue stalks his subject, who is staring out of HIS window." It can be a little hard to keep people straight, what with the unusual names. You don't think of Blue or Brown or Black or White as names, the characters are abstractions, with their actions arbitrarily hung on person A, B, C, D, etc. Which really just brings attention to the fact that that's what we ALWAYS do when reading, it's just easier to pretend what's on the page is a real person with a name that doesn't break our willing suspension of disbelief. No one is ready to accept a universe where Brown/Blue/Black/White are all interrelated... but why not? They're all legitimate names (maybe not Blue..)

Interesting note: the phrase "willing suspension of disbelief" was apparently coined by Samuel Taylor Coleridge- that's right! He of the Kubla Khan, and Rime of the Ancient Mariner fame! Cool!

Locked Room helps to tie the books together, though no one is getting easy answers. It breaks the formulas, despite being part of the New York Trilogy of detective stories, where the other two specifically star detectives (even if the first one is only pretending, he's still taken on a legitimate case, so, at what point does he become a "real" detective?) and all the action takes place in New York- in The Locked Room there are extended parts which take place outside New York, and only one out-of-the-blue line where the main character refers to himself as a detective.

This isn't a book for everyone. But the cover of this Penguin edition is totally awesome. Pulpy.

Great Gatsby (the book) part II

Some slight connectivity problems had hindered my ability to post here. Followed by the more serious lack of motivation problems. Ah well. I've got my topics lined up- but man! This is the worst I've ever been as far as spacing out and whatnot. Hopefully, there'll be something of interest to you in the following- there's certainly a bunch of things to choose from!

What interested me the most about reading Gatsby again, since this was, naturally, for my own benefit, instead of for any class assignment, was to take the time to answer the question: why have I had so much difficulty keeping in my head the plot of this book? Yes, there's a green light, fantastic, so I'm all set for Trebek's questions, but what ELSE happens?

The answer seems twofold to me now. (Is 'twofold' a word? Should it be 'two fold'?) The greater barrier, to my mind, was the sheer number of characters involved. There's an odd bit of debauchery where Nick goes off with Tom and his mistress Myrtle (man, I have got this book down now! It's been about a week since I've read it and returned the thing to the library, and I still remember Myrtle Wilson's name. Good job me!) and I know in the past I'd always remembered Daisy or Jordan Baker also being in attendance at that party... it turns out that isn't so! In fact, the only really significant characters that return from that party are Nick and Myrtle. Myrtle's sister gets a sentence near the end after Myrtle has been killed, which has it's own brand of significance, but nothing pivotal to the books success. This is a party with six characters with speaking parts, but we only ever talk to Nick and Tom again.

Similarly, at Gatsby's parties, there are loads of people. The one chapter even begins with Nick listing off the names of some attendees- and it's quite a long list! I think my problem was one of conflating characters in a way that was impossible to make sense of.

The other problem, and this will be the issue for a large chunk of the readership, is the poetic language used throughout the novel. There's no doubt it's lovely, but it does often take some deciphering, something I wouldn't have had much time for in my university days- which sounds horrible, but it's true. I probably had two or three other novels to read the week I read Gatsby, and this one does take some focus to appreciate. Although, while I'm thinking back on my modernisms class (my favourite class) I'd like to note the similar vibe I got between Gatsby and the novel 'Passing' by someone who I forget who it was (cut me some slack, this must have been, ugh, 7 or 8 years ago? Wow.) It was about the phenomenon of people with mixed white and black heritage that could pass for white in society, and so they had this big secret to hide away that could ruin them. I guess Gatsby had a similar secret, that of his money making ways. Yeah, I don't know, the books are just linked to me.

Ah, that's another thing that would have got in my way of understanding the book. It had been hammered into me the notion that Gatsby himself was a metaphor for American ambition, and that it therefore didn't matter how he got his money, Gatsby having money was more a device to tell this story than anything else (a point hilariously made again in the Kate Beaton Gatsby comics she drew "I heard he's a metaphor..." "...I don't think I like this Gatsby fellow!"). I took it for granted that there was no explanation for his fabulous wealth, that there COULDN'T be an explanation for his fabulous wealth, because Gatsby was less a person than a literary device. But that way of thinking blinded me to the goings on of the novel. Yes, it is explained how he made his money! All the time it's brought up! The sketchy jewish guy (ugh, that's horrible, but HIS name is currently escaping me... it's a pretty stereotypical sounding name too) needed someone who looked respectable, because he himself would never appear so, and thus Gatsby was taken under his wing. And IF Gatsby himself didn't participate in the rigging of the one world series game for gambling profit, Gatsby certainly enjoyed the results of it courtesy of... Wolfshiem? Is that the jewish guys name? Well, that money would certainly have been used to help set up the bootlegging operation running out of those various pharmacies that had been bought up.

Ultimately, I'm going to go with: I needed a bit of space to sit down and absorb this book. Which I think is fair enough. Man, that Gatsby is a tragic dude. The movie is going to be really cool.