How much weight have I lost?
In certain lighting, I have cheekbones.
In certain positions, my ribs stick out.
In certain clothes, I look like a middle child forced to wear hand-me-downs.
It's called Participaction, people.
Tederick.com: June 2007 Archives
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June 30, 2007
I love the movies
"Not only do I enjoy Michael Bay movies, but I also really enjoy when cars turn into robots and then do karate." - Transformers reviews pouring in at AICN, and that sentence sums it up: nine lead words that completely invalidate this individual as not just a film critic but as a human fucking being, and then a closer joke so in line with exactly why I'm going to go see that motherfucking movie anyway that I can't say shit.
Same site different page, Vern remains the Die Hard fan to rally behind, as demonstrated by his indomitable use of non-motherfucker motherfucker quips. Rory Kennedy's smiling up there somewhere.
Over here, Abe Sapien + Maddy Gaiman = possibly the cutest thing ever.
Done Goblet; onto Phoenix. Goal is to get Phoenix done the day the movie comes out and then spend the last 9 days doing Prince. I'm right on schedule, and yes, I needed to have a schedule to read Harry Potter books. Or as I said to a woman at yoga today, "I'm a project manager. If it doesn't have a workback schedule, it doesn't exist."
June 29, 2007
The Dutchman sails as her captain commands
Seriously. POISON. Confusing yet miserably attractive poison. This is why you should never let infants play around under the sink: bright blue viscous fluid looks so goddamned inviting. It's the wrong impulse.
You too can write to Rorschach!:
Nice to see them taking a page from the Joker's book. Hey who would win in a fight? Rorschach or the Joker? How about Rorschach and the Joker team up on Batman and John McClane? What if they had ten stormtroopers each? What if the first one to kill an opponent's stormtrooper got Jango Fett? What if General Zod were blowing on them, while ewoks threw rocks? What then?
Die Hard review was really challenging, but rewarding in the end. Taste this:
"There is no greater monument to the internal image of America's awesomeness than the '80s action hero, and the width of the gulf between that man's world (corporate skyscrapers, coke-sniffing yuppies, and disposable Eurotrash baddies) and the world we live in now (Homeland Security, near-fascist politcal correctness, and the ever-shifting sands of the war on terror) is so telling, it's almost tear-inducing. How awful it is to be a man like John McClane, in Paris Hilton's America."
Then read on if you so choose. Man, if only there was that much to play with in the other three films. I might go back and review 'em too. But sometimes a yippee ki yay is just a yippee ki yay.
So now I am going to have to go over to the coffee shop and finish Goblet of Fire, because as has proven true since the very first time I read the book, I just can't leave Harry in that graveyard. No matter what. As soon as they touch the portkey, I am overwhelmed with emotion at the thought of leaving Harry alone in that cemetery by closing the book for even a moment longer than I have to. It actually upsets me. Which, I must admit, does not happen with any other story that I have ever read, seen, or been told. I just can't do it. I have to get him home, even if it takes me all night.
I am so glad to be on vacation right now, I can't even tell you. This one was direly, direly needed.
"Jerry, it's Frank Costanza. Steinbrenner's here, George is dead, call me back."
- Frank Costanza
Girls are poison
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Last night I got Stottlemyred into seeing Die Hard 4. It was a pretty piss-poor Die Hard movie, and movie generally, but as a cultural document... man howdy it was fucking fascinating. I am trying to codify my thoughts into some kind of review. It's hard - when you know that a movie that you consider to have massive subtextual weight is doing so utterly in spite of the intentions of all of the creators involved, rather than intentionally - to know exactly how to phrase a response. But I'll see what I can do, because THE WORLD MUST BE PEOPLED.
When I need to describe someone as being extra crazy, there are two modifiers that I use to the exclusion of all others: bug-shaggin', and shit-eatin'. To whit:
"We heard that Mrs. Venton tried to pick up a quarter that had been krazy-glued to the hallway floor, and ended up going completely bug-shaggin' crazy."
"It's nice to know that when I finally do go complete shit-eatin' crazy, my hobo persona will merely be a modification of my current Jack Sparrow impression."
So to reiterate the point that I've had to make on a twice-daily basis for the past month or so, there is no reason why Matty Price and I are going to Philadelphia. We are just going. Couldn't go to North Carolina this year, so we picked Philly instead. DEAL. WITH. IT.
And to post-cap what I wrote the other night (in case my Mac bile got in the way of my point), boy Finnegan, I cannot tell you how pleased I am with my one-minute movie. I can't really say anything more concrete than that at this time because, ironically enough, it's a secret, but I will say that it's rare in my lifetime (and this has been true through the whole process) that anything I've made has been so exactly what I wanted it to be as this is. And I have to say that on a personal level, after the past month or so of utter godfuck insanity, it was pretty personally significant to be shooting and cutting and voicing and mixing again, and have it go so damn well. Looking forward to putting it out there.
June 27, 2007
Fire breather
I just want to note that once I'd successfully moved the files I needed from the Mac to the PC - which took me the better part of the last five days - the making of my one minute movie took less than an hour and a half. Thankyouverymuch.
Let's do some linking:
Now I'm no age-discriminator, but: what?? Is he not about a clean decade younger than his on-screen wife will be? I find this suspicious. Also: Breaker High sucked.
Oh man, this could end up costing me some hard-earned dimes.
And finally: just the other day I was in an HMV staring at a blow-up poster featuring Spencer Elden's penis, and - rather inevitably, for me anyway - wondering what it's like to have your parents put your penis on what would go on to become one of the most significant album covers of all time, and whether you could ever have a normal relationship with your penis after that, and exactly where that baby got to and how old he'd be by now and so on and so forth. And then unusually coincidentally, Jocelyn blogged about it and now I know (the last part, anyway; he's mum on the other points). Feeling old? Because yeah, that makes me feel kind of old.
Here's a Bendis dialogue snippet:
Mary Jane Watson: "'Mishugas?'"
Peter Parker: "It's Yiddish."
Mary Jane Watson: "Where do you know Yiddish all of a sudden?"
Peter Parker: "I picked it up."
Mary Jane Watson: "You should put it back."
Which is exactly what they say every time I say "mishugas!" Therefore I am Peter Parker.
EXTREME STEVE intermezzo: Impressions of Extreme Steve 1 BY ADAM!!!!
June 26, 2007
The river of fire
This was me at around 12:30 this afternoon:
Why? Because I did yoga outside in full noon sun in 35 degree weather, that's why. By the time I was done, there were rivers flowing down my entire body. I lost about four pounds. It was satisfying.
(Please skip the obligatory Bikram jokes. I've been hearing them all afternoon.)
I sincerely hope they don't stop the Pirates action figure line after this summer's wave. Though it took me a while to get started, I am (predictably) in love with these things right now. In fact they're pretty much the only thing I'm collecting, being as how I'm wending my slow way out of buying toys at all, in preparation for the imminent moment where I divest myself of all possessions and become a traveller, then a hermit, then a monk. But yeah: if this toy line capsizes before they do Elizabeth in warrior mama garb, I am gonna be one pissed mo-fo. What's with the bathhouse version? Seems trivial, even if they make her anatomically correct. And if there isn't a giant Calypso coming, I'll eat my hat.
Note to self: buy hat.
Yesterday's comments on my technical indestructibility re: one minute movie were, of course, somewhat premature. Attempts to render a 20-minute clip that I'll need for the flick were met with a heretofore-unheard-of 30-hour render time. That happens?! That's a thing that happens?? I have redirected my attempt, and should have the footage in hand within the hour. Still planning to knock this thing down in one go, tomorrow night.
Boy we're sure in the middle of it now. Fire above, fire below, my calm blue stream turned to violent molten rock. But there's clarity in this furnace.
Let's get one of Dan and his bitchez
This man's a pimp:
Now being 270-odd pages into Goblet of Fire, I heartily retract any earlier, rash statements about it being in jeopardy of being eclipsed by Phoenix for my favourite of the lot. This book is cozy and excellent and I loves it. It has dragons and Rita Skeeter and SPEW and ferret Malfoy and blast-ended skrewts and Victor Krum and "There was much less laughter, and a lot more hanging around in the library, when Hermione was your best friend." And on top of that it also has the best last line of anything ever: "Whatever would come would come, and he would have to meet it when it did." OK, awkward phrasing I admit, but if that ain't the whole enchillada (especially these days), I don't know from what.
Movie still sucks, but what are you gonna do.
So as of now I am finally aiming myself condo-wise. In direct contradiction to that, however, there is also the outside chance that by this time next year I will have left the city for grander adventures. And I am seriously stumping for Dominica for Christmas. Surely one of these is a stress response, but we'll leave it to time to sort that out.
June 25, 2007
The long way around
Man! I hate new password day! I have been stumbling and tripping over my fingers all morning.
If you ever get in a big argument with some Southern Baptist redneck hick about whether or not God supports homosexuality, look no further than the weather on Pride Day. I don't think I can recall a Pride parade where it wasn't 30 degrees and full sunshine in the city of Toronto. It's uncanny. Clearly, if you are going to be planning an outdoor wedding or something, you should be targeting the next Pride Day.
I, on the other hand, was in Stratford yesterday with my mother, seeing King Lear. It was quite good. Good, not great; there were some awkward stagings in the second half that I really didn't like, and the three daughters were sort of hit-and-miss, performance-wise. Scott Wentworth was terrific as Gloucester, though, and Brian Bedford was a damn solid Lear. It was the first time I've seen the play performed, and the second-last of my must-see-it-performed list of Shakespeare's greatest hits. Need to track down a performance of Henry V, and then I'm into the re-runs. I admit I'm tempted by this year's Othello - haven't seen it in forever and would really like to reconnect. Also scouting around for a Macbeth for the same reason, as well as the simple fact that my interest in that play grows mightily with each year I get older.
All is well. I dropped in for the last couple of minutes of Yellow Wall's soccer final last night, just in time for a shoot-out finish; I am very happy with the team these days and am looking forward to the summer season which has nothing to do with anyone in particular, but is just an overall feeling. 
And on Friday night I slapped an insane triple-helping of King Kong in between two large burritos, the very definition of decadence - I literally walked from B-Boyz down the alley in back to Cinecycle, watched King Kong Addition (which I wanted to steal out of the DVD player in an ultimate act of "found footage" defiance), then walked back down the alley to B-Boyz and went for it again. Caused an outright panic, too, when I inadvertently capsized the numbering system on my first burrito. Turns out that if you can't be sure your number is the right number, nobody can be sure their number is the right number.
Did a working day at the cottage on Saturday - I finally got to the bottom of the one-minute movie situation, by determining that I could do it on my Mac - if I had six months to spare and a staff of twenty. On the PC (Wednesday night), it will take me less than three hours, start to finish. With both powers at my disposal, I am fairly indestructible.
June 24, 2007
Moving things along
Remember Woogie? Adam just sent me this picture of him that I've never seen before. Man I miss that guy.
I am seriously considering getting a new cat, by the way. I always figured I'd end up with two eventually, and I also always figured the next cat would be named General Grievous - because that is a fucking hilarious name for a cat. Anyways, General Grievous has two thumbs on each hand, and Teen Girl Squad's cat Vinyl has two thumbs on each hand, and Vinyl is currently pregnant. So I figure General Grievous is in Vinyl's belly right now. Which is a long way of saying, I might very well be adopting a kitten in the next short while. And when I do, hopefully, General Grievous will teach Zam to fucking behave.
June 22, 2007
Ladies and gentlemen... Indiana Jones
June 21, 2007
Monkey vs. beaver
Well I'd say this has been just about the stupidest week of my life, except that last week was, in point of fact, stupider. So I guess I can't really complain. The good news is that I have rediscovered the meditative qualities of fine Cuban cigars. The other good news, depending on how you look at it, is that there is no shortage of rum. Fuck, I have so many bottles of rum by my side these days that my computer desk is starting to look like the rum cellar of the Black Pearl, minus ictho-sapien Boostrap Bill, but plus fine Sideshow Collectibles. Yarrrrrrr! It's good to know where you can wet your beak, or dock your galleon, or whateverthefuck.
You know what'd be nice? Ten fucking minutes of relative calm. Or even two. Two minutes of complete uninterrupted timeage, back on that porch before this all went crabways, and the world was just orange dresses and white underwear. That'd be good.
It is fucking impossible to find a cab at Main and Gerrard at this time of night on a Thursday, Internet, let me assure you of that.
My lips are vibrating. Someone needs to come by here and clamp down my lips.
Hey! You know what? I'm doing all right. I figured a lot of shit out about myself this week. Good shit. Shit I needed to know. Haven't quite evolved it into an executable plan yet per se, but the distinctions are there and the deliverables are only a matter of time. So yeah: I'm doing all right.
SAMUEL L. JACKSON IS NICK FUCKING FURY!!!
The new favourites
The AFI - who must, once a year, publish a top-100 list to remind us that they exist - has revised their earlier list of the top 100 American films of all time. Fellowship of the Ring is on there now (American how?), but not its successors (hum-nu?), as are various concessions to populism like Titanic and The Sixth Sense, and other concessions to earlier omissions like Intolerance and Spartacus.
Oddly, my own lists (and my own need to remind you that I exist) have been churning quite a bit in the past few months as well:
My favourite movie is obviously not actually going to remain Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, but for the time being... it so very, very is. I love that movie in ways that are not rational, sensible, or explainable. (Reminds me of a girl I used to take out.) I am as happy as a pig in slop that this thing came along and forced its way past Return of the Jedi, though more reasonably it will end up spending its time in the #3 position (behind Seven Samurai) for several years before eventually falling out of favour. Raiders has moved up a step too, by the way.
The current list:
- Return of the Jedi
- Seven Samurai
- Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End
- Raiders of the Lost Ark
- Lawrence of Arabia
My favourite book has suffered a clean upset. His Dark Materials displaced Heart of Darkness and In the Skin of a Lion for the top slot about three months ago. This means Potter is out of the top three as well, and in the Potterverse, Goblet of Fire is being given a run for its money by Order of the Phoenix - which itself would have been heresy just a year ago.
The list:
- His Dark Materials
- In the Skin of a Lion
- Heart of Darkness
- Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
- Easy Riders, Raging Bulls
My favourite TV show is the only thing that's pretty much unassailable. Ain't nothin' gonna knock MSCL off the top of that list. Six Feet Under did, however, get past Firefly and The Simpsons for the #4 spot.
- My So-Called Life
- Star Trek: The Next Generation
- Buffy the Vampire Slayer
- Six Feet Under
- Firefly
THE GOBLIN DANCES HERE!!!
June 20, 2007
"What, are you afraid of vegan industrial espionage?"
is what I asked as I was escorted out of the Big Carrot tonight by Big Carrot security for taking some pictures inside. Man howdy, I felt like I was fourteen fucking years old again! Unbelievable. The places I've been chased out of in my life for having a camera, I tell ya. The fucking shadow operation we had to put together just to get three shots inside the Northern District Public Library back when we were making Fate of Dietrich... you'd think we were hijacking a Brinks truck or stealing the plans to the Death Star. And yet Mark goes running the fuck out into the middle of Spadina dressed as a fucking black man for Bone Daddy 2, and nobody bats an eyelash. People are so goddamned weird.
Weird movie news #1: Michael Apted directing The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.
Weird movie news #2: Marc Forster directing Bond 22.
As Captain Sparrow would say, well they're just giving the bloody title away now. Has everyone in Hollywood had their Crazy Flakes this week? Whatever. I'm over it. Batcycle!
It has been a stormy 36 hours, but I am doing the best I can. I'm at the Starbucks right now filling in a massive journal entry and, hopefully, finishing off the first issue of Snapdragon, upon which I have fallen behind. Got an idea in my head and a tune in my ear, and them's good doin's.
June 19, 2007
Over the edge, over again
I shy away from specifics regarding my job on this blog, because it would be unprofessional and security-risky for me to do otherwise, so forgive me if this is frustratingly vague, or low on that traditional Tederick.com detail you've come to know and love:
At around eleven this morning, my manager resigned. Though the breadcrumbs leading to this point were large and doughy, I was completely broadsided by this news. I'm still doing my best to process what this is going to mean for me personally and professionally, because this individual made the single greatest contribution to my development as a leader that, I think, I have ever had... and from my vantage, that journey was still miles from done. But the writer-brain is currently kicking the back of the rest-of-my-brain saying "yeah, well in the good stories, that's usually when the mentor gets removed, kiddo." So I guess we'll see.
I begged off work after lunch, went downtown for Snail and Pirates (#5). Spent a solid half hour talking to Meghan because I adore her so, and because it was pouring outside anyway, and because as of about 3:00 this afternoon I was positively made of time. Did quite a bit of utterly needless shopping - even bought the omnibus edition of His Dark Materials, which is utterly extranneous to my life, except in that I have a sick fondness for omnibuses. I fucked around on Queen Street for a few hours and was then delighted to find that on the fifth time through, I think I enjoyed Pirates more than I ever have (even though the event was painfully reminiscent of me hiding out in a screening of True Lies back in '94 when All That Stuff Went Down). The house was (largely) packed, the print was in fine shape, and the sound was cranked. I love the sweet living toes offa that flick.
Also: as it turns out, Old Monk rum is basically liquid caramel, so if you're looking for something to drizzle on your ice cream, thar she be. Selfsame rum also brought about a heady sense of glee post-Pirates wherein I burst into unmotivated laughter in the line at Burrito Boyz. Man they love me there.
Home now, and not quite sure what to do next.
"The people who love us never really leave us." - Sirius Black
"Here comes that storm..." - Me, at around 1:15 p.m. today
June 18, 2007
No word of a lie
photo c/o TJ Lang, straight from the streets of New York.
All I want is a really good Indiana Jones action figure
But really, how cool would a Lego Temple of Doom be? Not that there's one in the planning stages, and not that Lego would ever necessarily suck up the balls to do something like that, but... yeah. That would be somethin' all right.
June 17, 2007
This is my mud.
Potterfication continues unabated; I am now into Azkaban. This morning Matty Price and I were talking about it and we identified Azkaban as the point where Rowling really started to figure out the kind of scope and range she was able to do with these stories... but I realized later this afternoon that I was about fifty-odd pages off with that assessment. I'd say it was more specifically the moment when Harry enters the Chamber of Secrets and finds the ghost of Tom Riddle waiting for him, that Harry Potter went from being an amusing fairy tale serial for kids, to the defining fantasy of our time. I am now, officially, looking very much forward to seeing how this thing ends.
Regardless of that highfalutin' talk, here's Mamo. I can also now say with some confidence that I can drive standard. Not well, by any means, and not in a way that would allow me to, say, escape collision with other vehicles if and when such vehicles were ever to do something even slightly unexpected. But it's a start.
Last night Dave and I went to see Paprika, and it was lovely. I highly recommend it.
June 16, 2007
Dangerous angels
2 down, 2 to go. 1 spare: not pursuing.
"As with all Havana Club rums, ageing is a vital part of the creation of Cuban Barrel Proof. Don Jose Navarro blends carefully-selected aged rums that will compose the base for Cuban Barrel Proof. It is then "finished" in specially-selected younger oak casks in order to reawaken its oak aroma and bouquet." - havana-club.com
I've come to realize lately that I am really bad at "the in-between times." The realities of my lifestyle these days mean that I have a pretty rigorous amount of scheduling in any given day - but if I get to a null patch, say 20 minutes, before I have to go do something, I pretty much get completely capsized by that time period. I actually become anxious about it. If I can't find something to blog or something to tidy I pretty much start pulling my hair out. It would be ever so considerate of life if it could somehow do away with these "in-between times," by thoughtfully balling all of my commitments together into lock-stepped block chanks that I can flow directly between if I finish one early. Then whatever spare change is left on the table at the end of the game, I can slip into my pocket and go buy a fucking taco. Seriously! A temporal taco, is that so much to ask?
The "in-between times" aversion seems to also apply to committing to starting anything I won't have time to finish, waiting for other shoes to drop, and getting up early for work in the morning. Oh, the things we learn about ourselves. For example, this week I did the stupidest thing I have done since, most likely, August of 2005. Beat that, Internet!
"Gentlemen... hoist the colours." - Captain Elizabeth Swann
June 15, 2007
I am a Considerate Director.
One more link in the chain...
Pretty sure that's any-kind-of-director not movie-director but who knows, maybe it's an eerily razor-accurate test. If you mouse-over those colours you can see what they are and how I rank. The complete report, which actually made me blush, is here. The test itself takes for freakin' ever to fill out but has fun cross-quadrant sliders in certain points.
June 14, 2007
NÜBATSOOT!!!
A woman scorned like which fury hell hath no
If I was Emma Roberts, I would go completely fucking gun-crazy on every single columnist who described her as "niece of Julia" this week. Eerily gun-crazy. Last ten minutes of The Usual Suspects gun-crazy. Which I guess is my way of saying that I'm far more likely to see Nancy Drew this weekend than Fantastic Four, but really, I'll probably see neither. I'm covering Worldwide for blogTO and otherwise becoming fairly battle-weary. It's been guns blazing for a whiles now. Exciting stuff aplenty, but also a lot of noise and smoke. And I'm due for a rummy nap in a hammock somewhere.
Holy crap, Renee has a baby!:
That kid's gonna be one hell of a typist. 
And she's beautiful, just like her mom. Baby-bloggin' be here.
June 13, 2007
Thieves and beggars
Thanks to Adam McNeverMakesHisDeadlines, today's episode of Extreme Steve is going to be a little late.
Today I had what I suspect is the typical Lulu Lemon experience:
- Resisted going to Lulu Lemon for literally years because of the icky trendy overpriced bullshit factor
- Finally found a pair of shorts I actually liked, which were on sale
- Except they didn't have my size
- Or my colour
- And then I searched all over town
- And failed
- And ended up buying a different pair of shorts at twice the price that I liked half as much.
Please, someone, anyone, tell me I'm not alone.
Rachel Couldn't Be Hotter in a Bajillion Years of Trying Weisz is playing mom in The Lovely Bones. Good fucking call, PJ. But given what needs to happen in the dad role, that makes casting her male lead about twice as hard. If they hadn't just worked together I'd say Hugh Jackman could really crank that one outta the park, but... well. Them's the breaks.
Best poster of the summer. Really looking forward to that flick.
June 12, 2007
Flip the ship
Well, suffice to say that "additional layers of complexity" have been added to just about every aspect of my life, at home and abroad. I am now doing my best to keep everyone rowing in the same direction, as is my ken. Not sure it's the right direction, but I'm striving for at least "the same direction."
Good news department: we did our lunchtime yoga outside today on a splendid grassy field in a good breeze in pitch-perfect weather conditions (not too hot, not too cold). I think it might actually have been the best yoga ever. I'm going again on Thursday. I'm up to three sessions a week - it's a yogsplosion. And yes, it helps.
"For certain you have to be lost, to find a place as can’t be found." - Hector Barbossa
June 11, 2007
Small fonts
Attention, spammers of the world:
1. Stop telling me I am fat.
2. Stop telling me my penis doesn't work.
YOU ARE ENCOURAGING PARANOIA.
That is all.
The boy who lived
All right, after a couple of weeks of hemming and hawing on this I'm going to go for it: all six Harry Potter novels over the next 40 days, timed to drop the last page of Prince at 11:59 on July 20 so that I can run straight into Hallows at 12:00. I need to be hitting about 70 pages a day to pull this off which means I need to be through Philosopher's Stone on Wednesday. I've already booked some cottage time to cram through Goblet because otherwise I won't be able to recover from the page deficit that Philadelphia will naturally create. Good news being, however, I will probably finish Phoenix on the day the movie comes out. Swell timing, that.
You can track my progress via the ever-useful "currently enreadulating" gizmo in the right-hand column here on the blog. Hoorah for faux interactivity!
It should be noted that I have essentially turned into a British man.
This one's for the Box
c/o Teen Girl Squad:
Oh it's on.
June 10, 2007
It never rains
Well, this is gonna be one hell of a summer.
Yesterday I covered the Women of Comics II symposium at the Paradise Comic Con for blogTO. It was pretty damned enjoyable I gotta say - way more than the convention floor itself, which, aside from meeting Georges Jeanty (and drooling on him a bit) and having a decent conversation with my new personal hero Faith Erin Hicks, wasn't exactly my air-quotes "thing." Incidentally: have I met Faith Erin Hicks before? I really feel like I have, but I can't place it. If any reader can twig me on this thing, please inform. It might just be because her name is fun to say.
Then Matty Price and I hit Ocean's Thirteen for some bank and... well sweet fucking hell I thought I didn't have anything relevant to say about that thing, but apparently I did, because I said it in review form:
The filmmakers have stripped the requirements of the Ocean's franchise to such a spare extreme that this one isn't just running on fumes, but is also turning around and convincing you that those fumes are honest, hard-won gasoline from the vast oil fields of Iraq. The flick - intentionally or no, though I'd gamble on the former - acts as an almost cruel contretemps to the risible "one for us, one for them" philosophy of indie vs. mainstream filmmaking that has plagued Hollywood for decades.
Got home and stumbled into a ginormous party that Teen Girl Squad was throwing for Rachel, and decided to stay (there was rum). Rachel, who shot off a fire extinguisher like she was play-acting Ghostbusters in the back yard and covered the entire neighbourhood in Spielbergian fog, Rachel who took her clothes off not once but twice, Rachel who turned me into an inadvertent drug mule. And did I mention the rum? Yeah I'm pretty much calling it the best party ever held in this house, with the exception of the Pirate Party, because nothing will ever actually defeat the Pirate Party. 
Then not a lot of sleep, then a really good yoga, now peanut butter and laundry and sunshiney yesness.
Duelling Jessies
"Old Monk rum has slight taste of vanilla flavor with alcohol contains of nearly 42.80%. It is also most popular in the cold northern Indian regions, and gained lots of popularity among the Indian military." - liquorofindia.com
Shit I TOTALLY forgot to drunk-blog! Fuck. Next time.
June 8, 2007
Last time I saw a sky like this, I was about to get dumped
What do you reckon's gonna happen this time?
June 7, 2007
Connery's out
Sean Connery has formally recused himself from Indy IV.
Points against Indy IV: 3
Points for Indy IV: 1
Points pending: 1
Says Sir Sean: "I do, however, have one bit of advice for Junior: Demand that the critters be digital, the cliffs be low, and for goodness sake keep that whip by your side at all times in case you need to escape from the stunt coordinator! This is a remarkable cast, and I can only say, 'Break a leg, everyone.' I'll see you on May 22, 2008 at the theater!"
That man is seventy-seven years of pure fucking class.
Sri Sumbhajee votes for Sri Sumbhajee
Or, one down, three to go.
"The first known documentation of rum production at the Appleton Estate is dated 1749, however the origin of the Estate dates back to 1655 when the English captured Jamaica from the Spaniards. During the English empire, when rum was transported back in barrels, it was discovered that the time spent in the barrel, combined with the gentle rocking of the ship, allowed for smoother, tastier rum." - appletonrum.com
Internet, I have a crush. A hugenormous crush that I thought I had successfully quelled but no, my quelling was sub-par and now there's cake and oh fuck Internet, I don't know which way is whatever any more.
So how am I gonna play it?
Pimp smooth.
Yeah that's right. I'm into my shit, happy with my life, and needing nothing right now. So there, world.
Two recent dude-stoppages:
1. Dude stops me because I'm wearing a Cobra t-shirt and he's like "do you even know that show?" And I'm like "yeah I watched it all the time" and he's like "what, how old are you?" and I say "thirty" and he's like "man, you look way older than that." FUCK THAT GUY!!
2. Dude stops me because he sees me reading Buffy and he's all like "do you just like Buffy or are you a comics fan?" and I'm like "both" and he's like "then you should read Transmet" and then proceeds to have a really worthwhile, generous conversation with me about the stuff that he's into and the stuff that I'm into and we talk about Powers and Y the Last Man and all the stuff that we absolutely love and anyone who says that two dudes can't get all emotionally available with one another at the drop of a hat is a lying liarpuss.
Last night I had a dream about the twin girls in the first boat you see in the land of the dead in Pirates wherein Gore Verbinski had made a whole other movie just about them but that movie was more like The Ring and the girls were that little boy and maybe I was Gore Verbinski and why are those girls in the movie anyway holy fuck I've had too much coffee now bye.
Matt [speaking about Death Star cufflinks]: I think the Death Star's a pretty good symbol.
Adam: But then you're always evil guy. What about the twin suns of Tatooine?
Matt: But what's interesting about a sun?
Adam: It's... um... hydrogen synthesis.
The Long Way Home, part 4
The inaugural arc of Buffy Season Eight closes this week with issue #4. As with most of the premiere episodes of most of the seasons of the show, I ultimately found myself underwhelmed... and that's no problem by me. I always find the kickoff story relatively tame until I see what it's feeding into; I'm looking crazy forward to the stand-alone issue 5, and the BKV arc with Faith, that are coming up. And [spoilers begin now] Buffy at war with the entire human race? At least we know now why Joss was saying "big."
Let's break it down...
Bitch and butch
Depending on their usage, one of the problems I'm going to have with this series will be Amy and Warren. As said previously, I don't consider Amy half as interesting as everyone else seems to, while Warren icks me out to such a degree that I really don't get any enjoyment out of him as a character - he's more of an ordeal to be withstood. Hopefully they're the Boba Fetts of this storyline, and not the Vaders.
Xander is the best
character Joss has resurrected here. He has absolutely nailed the voice for Xander on every single line, while simultaneously moving the character to a genuinely new place where has actually, you know, gone somewhere as a person based on the things he's experienced. It puts Xander an inch ahead of Buffy, a pace ahead of Dawn and Willow, and a solid yardstick past Giles and Andrew. It'll be interesting to see where Faith is at under Vaughan's guidance in three months.
Satsu the Vampire Slayer
Oh yeah. Oh hells yeah.
Enough with the riddles
Being as that this is the closing issue and all, it was nice to see way less ambiguity and a lot more straightforward we're-a'-gonna-do-this action plotting. Makes the issue feel a bit slight when compared to the others but significantly more digestible and entertaining than any since issue #1.
Inner Willow
Did not see that coming. Love the lake of fire that lives inside Willow's brain at all times, constantly threatening to come out; it harmonizes the post-Phoenix character in a way that Season Seven was never able to do. But as for the inner chorus... well I'm just not sure. Need to see a lot more to get an opinion on that one.
The end of the Rayne
Noooooooooooooooooooooo!!!
You lying general, you
The general's response to Buffy's assertion that this has nothing to do with demons and everything to do with women having power - "You think it's only men want to bring you down?" - is like the proverbial racist who spouts "look at all my black friends" to denounce claims of his bigotry. Who gives a funk if Evil McMilitary has women on-side? Scores of women have willfully been used as tools in their own oppression for ten thousand years. Nope, dissembling brass aside, Buffy hit it in one: if it was America's boys in Iraq who were all demoned up and powerful, we wouldn't be having conversations about the judicious use of their power. Not gonna make the war any easier, but it's always nice to know the hero's got her head on straight.
June 6, 2007
Salty wenches
"Almost 200 years ago, James Gosling's ship, brimming with spirits and bound for America from London, was becalmed off Bermuda. Wisely, James put ashore and never left. Eventually the family's leisurely oak-aged, dark-hued rum became extremely popular... Unlike mass-marketed spirits, Black Seal remains a special product available at select outlets." - goslingsrum.com
Well I'm just gonna have to go see Pirates again, is what. Yeah, when that decision got made this morning, I actually started giggling uncontrollably. Mmmmmm Pirates. Best movie ever.
Meanwhile, Kevin Smith to direct the best movie ever: article. Yup I'm trading around the "best movie ever" moniker like a Gem Saloon wipe-rag at this point. I'm okay with it.
Yesterday I got to see Susanne and Meredith, both visiting from out of town, at different points in the day thanks to my crack work-at-home scheme. I also squeezed in a driving lesson wherein I managed to stall the car in the middle of the intersection at Jones and Gerrard, and yet not die. Why? Because gas is my friend. In between there was room for buying the first season of Robin Hood on (very expensive) spec, finishing off some serious deliverables on a project I'm more than ready to be altogether done with, and shanghaiing Brandy aboard the Portrait of a Young Artist galleon as it sets sail for the shimmering waters to our immediate south. I'd call that productive.
EXTREME STEVE!!!! episode forty-four
June 5, 2007
Last stop before the end of the world
I recused myself from soccer on Sunday night because of my very, very tired legs... and regretted it immediately! It poured rain like crazy through the entire first half, so mostly I just spent the game standing on the sidelines freezing to death and yelling semi-constructive cheers. Still, it was a terrific game to even be peripherally involved with, as a number of our regulars had business elsewhere and Janice brought in some excellent replacements. Man, I love playing in the rain. I'm gonna be regretting that one for a while.
Sideshowbi-wan 2: Old Ben! Freaking fantastic. I'm going to be trading up my Hasbro one - which has, admittedly, some sentimental value - for this one for sure. They're really getting it done over there. And I like how the Leia hologram looks like some weird little blue jade Buddha.
Lots going on at the office, and I'm working from home today to shortcut ahead on some projects (because one can never underestimate the value of hours of uninterrupted work, especially when held in contrast to the hours of constantly-interrupted work that are otherwise my mainstay). Other than that, I have little to report, other than that I officially no longer understand Revenue Canada, at all. They just sent me a fuck of a lot of money, when every presumption held that they were going to send me a monster bill. Is the monster bill still coming? Is this how they maintain their reign of terror: through juggernaut tactics designed to destroy one's ability to predict their next move? I... I just don't know what to do right now.
June 3, 2007
Eerie! That's downright macabre!
Ouch! Pirates took a wicked 63% tumble on the second weekend which means that my top ten picks on the summer are all but fucked. This, however, is the last time I'm going to benchmark my picks in situ, because the die is cast and there's little point talking about it now. I'll follow up in September.
Meanwhile, here's Mamo #85, in which we look at the future of theatrical distribution. Large and in charge.
There's a great(ish) interview with Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio up at Box Office Mojo, two men damned to be forever considered less than their actual worth. But I love 'em: they get it. They know what their shit is about, and if you look at it from their point of view, they're right about pretty much everything. And they do, indeed, have the single best reason for making Pirates 4 - so that the film critics of the world will shamelessly retcon their Pirates 3 opinions re: comprehensibility, just like they did with Pirates 1 and 2.
They also said something about Elizabeth that falls so specifically in line with a project I've been working on for a good long while that it earns full quotage:
"But it really comes down to the fact that there are not that many female protagonists that have done that whole [Joseph] Campbell hero's journey - and when they do, it's [usually] a complete imitation of the journey that a male character would take. We tried to find a way to create moments that were specific to her being a female but were no less dramatic and complete as they would be for a male character." - Ted Elliott
Charting a course for a female heroic protagonist where the choices she makes in the monomythic cycle are specifically routed in her character rather than an approximation of male choices past is, to me, the major boon of the next generation of heroic writing. To be continued.
Go time
Ride for the Heart 2007: so very done. Photos and brief commentary here. I had a great time this year. Just really solid. My left leg cramped up a bit in the early stages, probably because my right hip flexor was bugging me last week and I probably over-favoured the left. But I stretched that out with some squats at the first rest stop and it was all easy cruising from there. I did it in almost exactly 2h15m for the fifty-K on four three-minute rest stops, better than my time from '05; the entire experience was just north of 4 hours, leaving my house at 6 a.m., riding down, doing the marathon, and riding (very, very slowly) home for a grand total kilometrage in the 70-80 range.
The great thing about training for this for the past 6 weeks is that I feel connected to my bike again for the first time since I lost Threepio. Might be because I finally figured out the thing's name: I call her the Black Pearl. 
Thanks to the generosity of Matty P, Dave, other Dave, April, Amanda, Alena, Glen, my parents, my siblings, Jen, Erin, Glade, Aunt Beth, Sonia, Stephen, and Demetre, I raised nearly $300 for the Heart and Stroke Foundation. The rest of you are, officially, freeloaders and layabouts, and I shall have none of you.
June 2, 2007
Noooo they be stealin' my bucket
Sleep: let us define "sleep" as being a state of restful unconsciousness, and not as being a semi-lucid heat-induced delirium in which one's experience of the universe becomes a focused kinship with an ocean of one's own sweat. Are we all on board with the definition? Good.
I hate driving standard
I hate driving standard
I hate driving standard
Now let's all have cake. Dun!
That is by no means a smear upon my Most Excellent Driving Teacher or even the slow measured process I am slowly, measuredly making towards actually being able to drive standard, but I am in a full-on 8-year-old-esque "I'm not good at it so I HATE IT!! that'll teach 'em" mode right now.
The one thing you can definitely say about this week was that it went by really fast. It went by really fast because it was so fucking difficult. Now it's Saturday and I have all kinds of stuff I'm supposed to do, not to mention the Ride for the Heart at the crack of ass tomorrow morning, but I am officially giving myself the day off. Nothin' but sunshine, blow jobs and comic books from here till sundown. Well, at least a portion of same.
And the Joss Whedon Award for Speaking the Most Like Joss Whedon Without Actually Having Joss Whedon Direct His Speech by Assuming the Form of a Large Whedony Boil On His Shoulder goes to: Brian Lynch!
"I think what we have planned is gonna knock people down, steal their wallets, pick them up, dust them off, fix their hair, give them a hoagie and a ride to the nearest carnival, accompany them on the tilt-a-whirl, hold their hair when they get sick, and pay for cab fare home. It’s THAT much fun." - Brian Lynch on Angel Season 6