What ever will we do without the Dault?
|
 |
Let's start it off with just how great all the Claire closure was, highlighted by Russell shrieking "He's indestructible, he's fucking indestructible!" at the top of his lungs while trying to take down a 12-foot red lollipop. Let's add to the greatness with Ruth going all sexified and using Hiram like a boy-bitch a quarter of his age. Then there's Rico growing some balls against his razor-pussied ex-wife, and Nate tossing out the "green funerals" shpiel, and the whole Nate/Rico/David "meeting"/argument/what-the-fuck-is-this-about scene in its multi-coloured glory. And Keith taking down knife-wielding Durell in a single move, because you know what? Keith is fucking cool. And the opening death so obvious that it actually had me saying "What is she fucking retarded? Doesn't she know she's in a Six Feet Under opening here?!" And the worms in Brian's belly saying that even though they've only been alive for a few weeks, they already think Six Feet Under is pretentious. And we'll close it all off with Nate going ahead and dying. Because with only four episodes to go, he could totally be a meat-sack right now. How good would that be? In the series' final hours, Nate truly becomes his father, and just gets to ghost around while everyone else deals with the mega mindfuck of his death?
Yeah, pretty much best sfoo ever.
And with James Marsters coming on to Smallville, and Sydney all preggified on ALIAS, well.... can it be September soon?
Who doesn't enjoy a good koan?
July 26
2005 - 10:51 a.m.
Word is circulating - quite possibly made up, who knows - that Michael Bay is leaving Transformers, at least partially due to his concoction of the biggest turkey of the 21st century so far. Of course, it might easily be the bull's shite. I read an interview with him the other day where he professed to want to do a movie with no explosions in it. Is Michael Bay a frustrated art filmmaker? Can we rush production on that Michael Bay doll, please?
Last night I dreamed that someone had got into my Geocities account, hijacked it, and was using my web page to put up pictures of naked pregnant women. This was odd, given that I no longer have a Geocities account at all, but I did spend some time yesterday trying to see if I could dig up any backups of the old web page, circa October 1997. Sadly, none could be found - yup, the very first version of the Tederick web site has been lost to time. As I recall, it was green.
Definitely time to change all my passwords.
Wait a minute: why am I getting ten penis enlargement e-mails a day? Is anyone else getting that many? Should I be disconcerted? Do I not "please her?" Do I need "mega girth?" What the funk is going on here?!
The blogs of my enemies
July 25 2005 -
2:27 p.m.
Have you ever had an afternoon where you think up every single person you don't like, and check out their web site? No, probably not, because you're rational and/or well-adjusted. Not I, apparently. I'm treading through the enemy camps, gathering information that may be used against the bad guys in future chance encounters, bar-room brawls, and lightsabre fights. The really sick part is when I start code-diving into their page sources, to see if their shit is up to snuff (or concealing illegal goodies). This is a patented example of how I waste my time on Mondays.
The obvious next step is Googling every single person I've ever had a disagreement with, and making their lives HELL! But that's a Tuesday thing.
I sort of wish I had come up with some clever way to gum up this post with the last two, and make it into one turbulent mega-blog that was topical, enjoyable, and remarkable for its structural clarity. Sigh. I guess it just ain't that kinda day.
Our moment permits interest in one question only: will we of
Deadwood be more than just targets for ass fucking?
July
25 2005 - 1:29 p.m.
"We have to pay three hundred dollars to sit on their bus for a day and a half?! They should be paying us three hundred dollars to sit on their bus for a day and a half!!" - Me, to Mark, just now
I gotta tell you, much as I'm enjoying having subscribed to TMN for sfoo and movies and nonsuch, the real goldmine here is getting to watch the second season of Deadwood in glorious high-def. The episode that just passed (they're re-running the season right now), "Childish Things," was gorram terrific, one of those hinge episodes where everything starts bending the other way after weeks and weeks of setup. Hell's balls, why couldn't Firefly have been sold to TMN?
The Virginia plan is now in doubt. Will have to sort it out further this week. But I think I've seen enough of the States this year anyway.
I believe your Young Adam is in my hand
July 25 2005 - 11:24 a.m.
On Thursday night, the girl and I contemplated renting Young Adam to fill the "arty porn" bill, but settled instead for a weird, barely-professional independent Canadian gay film called Sugar. That went about as well as could be expected, but finding ourselves thoroughly McGregored after seeing The Island on Friday, we circled back around to watch Adam last night. We still don't know exactly who Young Adam is supposed to be, but it's always nice to see a film where the characters drop their kits and make with the sex, just about every ten seconds. What really came clear watching the film (aside from the fact that Ewan's wang is long enough, when he's lying down, to go to the end of his balls, keep going, and consequently droop) is that there really isn't enough hand-jobbin', or guy-on-girl oral, in movies today. It's pretty goddamn nice to see people using something other than their groins every once in a while to make with the eroticking. I'm consequently somewhat upset to learn that the short sequence of Ewan going down on Tilda Swinton was actually the reason that the film got an NC-17 rating in the States... because, apparently, guys giving girls head is so dirty! while girls giving guys head is middle-school socialization fodder for the youngin's. It's a pretty pathetic state of sexual affairs, my friends.
I finished So Good yesterday in a fit of... well, not creativity per se, but overdue workmanship. Also did podcast #6, which I was really excited about because of the degree to which The Island tanked over the weekend. (I mean, wow.) Otherwise, it's been a creatively unfulfilling weekend. I will allow the slight bit of news that the script I'm working on is called Glow, but aside from fooling around with the first two scenes, it's not moving very quickly at this point.
My internet trolling skills must not be what they used to, because somehow I managed to miss this for a whole week:
Can you say "ADORABLE?!" Yup, three whole Dawn figures before Christmas. Combine that with the Illyria fig that Chad ordered for us, and the Buffy "End of Days" figure that I ordered for us, and that pretty much seals the deal: I think I have every Buffyverse character I want, except for a 12-inch "Chosen" Buffy. Oh, and Skip. Where's Skip?
Now off to the job searching, to try to find some way to pay for all this. Personally, I just can't wait to have disposable income again.
Writing
July 23 2005 - 1:14
p.m.
In the very lengthy Leaky-Cauldon/Mugglenet interview with J.K. Rowling, she confirms that we've seen the last of Quidditch, which plots even more solidly towards the notion that Book Seven will be almost entirely extra-Hogwarts. It's a bit confusing as to why they're casting about for a new DADA teacher, but I'm sure we've got to get back to the castle eventually, if only so Harry can pick up Ginny and make with the smoochies.
It took me most of last night and this morning to write my review of The Island, not because it was a particularly challenging film in any way, but because there turned out to be so many ways I could attack the review that I ended up having a lot of difficulty making anything come together. At the very least, it was a hell of a fun date with the girl, and that's worth any number of botched reviews.
It's interesting when absolutely nothing bloggable crosses my desk in several days. There's the resilient pressure to come up with something, and the even more resilient wisdom that tells me that such ventures almost always go bad. In the meantime I've been struggling with the next major script to write, scribbling this and that across a variety of concepts and genres in an attempt to get something going. Writing notes. Lots of notes. Scrawly, illegible, point-form-ish notes. Back when I was fourteen or so and I came up with a script idea that would (unbeknownst to me at the time) go on to become a decade and a half of continued development, I wrote out the entire thrust of the story on a single page of lined paper, and then, convinced that it was ass-first garbage, tore it into bits and threw it away. At around one in the morning that night I got hit by the big panic attack, ran down to the garbage can, and reassembled that note page out of its bits, and taped it all back together, Back to the Future style. I've still got it around here somewhere, and though it bears little resemblance to the saga that it finally became, it's going to be a hell of a thing to have on the wall of my office someday.
and then explode
July 20 2005 - 9:06
p.m.
Folk who haven't seen Serenity,
behold
the international trailer. Folk who saw it with me, remember the good
times? 
Sometimes I even Astonish myself
July 20
2005 - 2:53 p.m.
I went down to the Snail to pick up the Wednesday bunch o' goodies, grabbed the too-long-awaited Astonishing X-Men #11, and immediately flipped straight to the back. And there it was, the signature at the end of the first letter in Mails to Astonish:
YESBOSS!! I got damn well published. That's right folks, it's at least 43% possible that Joss Whedon or John Cassaday - or even both! - have read, or will read, my words. Oh sure, they cut out the major thrust of my letter, which was a ferocious tribute to Cassaday's superior artwork in AXM #10, and without that key paragraph, the letter doesn't exactly have much in the way of a shape. But it's the first time I've ever been published in an honest-to-god funnybook, and it's a Joss Whedon funnybook to boot. This is a mighty, mighty day. I'm ten years old right now and grinning like an idiot.
On the other side of the universe, Scotty died today. I only saw Jimmy Doohan in person once - I believe it was in 1995 or thereabouts - and his memory was already noticeably failing him, but his dedication to the fans was nothing short of wonderful, and he gave a really great show all around. That was also when I learned about the missing finger on his right hand, which was shot off during World War II. It's obsessed me ever since - every time I watch Trek now, I always look for that stump.
Doohan was one of the best things about the Original Series, and an unlimited asset to the Trek community as a whole. I'm particularly fond of his spirited performance in Star Trek IV ("there be whales here!") and his utterly befuddled follow-up in Star Trek VI, where he staggers around the ship hollering at the top of his lungs in utter confusion about every single plot point. And obviously, his guest turn on TNG in "Relics" was one of my very favourite moments in my very favourite series when I was growing up.
Here's to you, Scotty. I don't know what I'll be drinking tonight, but I know it will be green.
iSmell
July 20 2005 - 2:21
a.m.
There's an overall pervasive odour about me which I would not necessarily classify as bad, but is definitely omnipresent in a new and unusual way as we enter day (seems like) 1,000 of this stupid heat wave. It seems that I can only be in a t-shirt for about three hours now before, really, I oughta change into a new one. My laundry costs for July are through the roof.
Not that I particularly mind the way I smell. I have even been told that I smell good. But low-level insecurity dictates that I, at least partially, must fear for the comfort and safety of others.
MaMo #5 is on the internet, by the way, just in time for... today. You can blame the pre-MaMo coffee for me being awake at 2:21 in the morning.
In an oddly affecting pairing, I ended up watching Forgotten Silver and about half of The Aviator tonight. So essentially, I kinda walked through recreations of the first forty years of filmmaking. I have an ongoing, pervasive fondness for the era, particularly the aughts, when babies were cheap and easy for the gypsies to steal, and a religious epic could be 11 minutes long. That was some filmmaking. Stick a rocket in my eye, I'm done.
Suicide-inducingly hot
July 19 2005 -
6:33 p.m.
Today at Zellers I was surprised to learn that in answer to their highly successful Hulk Hands of a couple of years ago, the fine toymakers at Toybiz have gone ahead and made Thing Feet. I never bought the Hulk Hands but now I wish I had, so that I could combine them with the Thing Feet - possibly a foot on one hand and a hand on one foot sort of mixup - and be a new green-and-orange superhero called Thulk.
Thulk's principal superpower is his compassion. He feels your pain, man. Why? Because Thulk's got a fucking serious hormonal growth problem in his hands and feet, that's why.
It was pointed out to me last week that the new Tusken-scaring scream that Obi-Wan utters in the DVD of Star Wars is probably meant to be a play on Boga's cry from Revenge of the Sith. If so, that's cool. I like Boga: she snuck up on me to become one of my favourite elements in the new/final film. And she is painfully reminiscent of one Texas Jack Frost, which is to say, an adorable dragonnish spaz.
I'm reading The Story of V now, which is a book about vaginas. With illustrations. Of vaginas. Excellent (as I discovered today) for reading on a crowded subway.
Must possess
July 19 2005 - 1:04
p.m.
Dark Green
July 18 2005 - 11:23
p.m.
This is the post where I talk about Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Please don't read it if you don't want to be spoiled about the major plot points.
I finished the book on Sunday night at around a quarter after eleven. I could very easily have read the entire thing on Saturday - I was past the 250-page mark by the end of the afternoon, having only dedicated a total of four hours that day. It's (like all of them) a very digestible read. What I discovered on Saturday, however, was that I was having far less fun ploughing through it at top speed, than I was when I was reading a chapter (or half a chapter) at a time, then taking a break to do something else. As I should have realized far sooner than I did, a lot of the fun here is in the rumination, going over the plot points in your mind as you prepare to jump into the next segment.
Half-Blood Prince is pretty freaking incredible. At first it took me a while to get used to its style, because after the madcap extravaganza that was Phoenix's multi-tier tale of darkness, rebellion and plain ol' growing up, Prince is a much different book. It's a throwback to the early entries in the series: a simple mystery, a series of interlocking clues, and an otherwise normal year at Hogwarts. Certainly not what I expected from the second-last book in the series... but I was just plain wrong, and stupidly so. Structurally, in fact, Prince is flawless. It's the direct sequel to Chamber of Secrets (pairing the second book with the second-last), and it does the one thing that no book thus far has been able to do, by detailing the early years of Tom Riddle / Voldemort, and how his life paralleled, while diverging from, Harry's. That's right, folks; it's The Godfather, Part II for the Harry Potter crowd, and thus, it perfectly sets the stage for what must be the upcoming 1000-page final battle between Harry and his nemesis. With all that carnage to come, Prince is, appropriately, a quieter book, more fun than its predecessor, and in many ways more elegant and evocative. My admiration of Rowling's command of the craft of writing has grown yet again, something that I did not expect at this late stage in the game.
No really: this is the part where I talk about what actually happens in this book.
The major "twists" of Prince are no twists at all, because they've all been telegraphed in, years in advance. Any student of mythology would understand that this book was to be Dumbledore's curtain call, although (like Gandalf or Ben Kenobi) it would be unwise to think that there won't be some sort of continued guidance for Harry from his old mentor. That said, when it happened, I pretty much fell off my ass with shock. Why?
Snape.
Wow. The fact that Rowling successfully gumballed her entire audience into believing that Harry was wrong about Snape - for six consecutive books - is nothing short of amazing. She had an entire readership believing that her principal character was fundamentally wrong about someone who, indeed, was the second-highest antagonist in the Potterverse. With Snape's betrayal now out in the open - and how fitting that this would be how Dumbledore would die, not in combat, not against Voldemort, but by betrayal - everything feels like it's been spun completely on its head. Malfoy is a pitiable stooge, Voldemort never turned up at all, and Snape killed the headmaster. Rowling's description of the murder, with Dumbledore's body framing itself against the Dark Mark before falling from the ramparts, was just breathtaking. Literally: that was when I needed to stop reading, just to breathe for a while.
Once again, Rowling managed to convince me (for about ten or fifteen horrible pages) that Hermione had bitten the big one; I worry about her chances for Book Seven, especially with the Hermione/Ron thing now looming large once again, after a nice rest in Book Five. I remain, for my part, quite icked out by the notion of incest among the Trio, and am disappointed that Rowling has chosen so obvious a pairing after promising so many surprises in that area. Hermione gets Ron, Ginny gets Harry, and even Neville and Luna are pairing up... unless J.K. has some pretty serious tricks up her sleeve, this is an area of the saga that will be remembered for being sadly predictable.
That said, the Harry/Ginny kiss rocked. Fist pumping in the air, light a candle, stand-up-and-shout rocked.
I really enjoyed the multiple flashbacks into the Riddle timeline, particularly the very early stuff with Marvolo, Morfin and Merope. Likewise, Harry's first adventure with Dumbledore was appropriately questish, and I'm liking the fact that we are now poised to enter a truly unique area of the saga, when Harry, Ron and Hermione will apparently forego their final year at Hogwarts in favour of larger deeds in the outside world. I'm sure we'll all end up back at school eventually, but structurally at least, Book Seven is looking like it may become the most interesting of the lot. And thank goodness for that: it's going to be very hard to see this come to an end. A nice, rousing, life-or-death adventure should do the trick nicely. And we've already got the first clue for the final road:
R.A.B. can only be Regulus Black - Sirius' long-dead brother. It remains to be seen whether he's still alive, or if he stole Voldemort's Horcrux before he was killed by the Death Eaters.
I sent Bex an owl immediately after finishing. Inside a carefully-ornamented envelope bearing the inscription "Do not read until you have finished Harry Potter," a single page with four simple words:
WE NEED TO TALK.
Saag Panir
July 18 2005 - 6:09
p.m.
The esteemed Toronto International Film Festival has turned down Tederick.com's request for press accreditation once again, which came as no great surprise. In spite of the fact that I am not just proud, but overwhelmingly surprised and honoured, by the depth, quality, and range of our 2004 Festival coverage, I'm sufficiently familiar with the TIFF bureaucracy's m.o. at this point to have had absolutely no illusions about my relative worth to them. And I give lousy head, too.
The real downside, though, is that this was essentially my last try at the ring, because with my financial situation being the way it is (along with my time commitments), I certainly cannot afford to patronize TIFF to any great extent this year, and will consequently have no coverage to show them next year. This is not feeling so bad, though. At a whopping $150 for the 10-coupon book - that's right, $15 a movie under a supposed bulk discount, and goodness knows what the single-ticket price will be this year - TIFF is becoming less and less the sort of film festival I even feel comfortable giving my money to. If a regular flick costs ten bucks these days, and exempliary outfits like Images, Hot Docs, and even TIFF's own Sprockets are able to match that mainstream price for their screenings, what is TIFF offering me except a bunch of movies that will be in regular theatres by next spring anyway? I'm hard-pressed to think of a single film I saw at TIFF last year that hasn't seen commercial release since then, except for a few of the Midnight Madnesses... but then, Colin has always run his own show. Him, I wouldn't just give money to, but would also gladly get down on both knees for.
Tonight's the first 1MFVF '05 programming meeting - we've had a whopping 100 submissions so far, and the late-entry deadline is still six weeks away. Amy's taking bets on the crap-to-gold ratio. Hopefully, the entire exercise will be cleansing.
And if you haven't heard it yet: you can get the first four tracks of the Serenity score right here. It's fucking kick-ass. Better than I'd hoped. Can't wait to see the whole thing, really can't wait to see the movie again!
Frequently Asked Questions About the Smart Car
July 18 2005 - 10:14 a.m.
(To be handed out by flyer from now on, when inevitably approached)
1. How much does it cost?
I'm somewhat stunned that this is the most popular question regarding the car, because it strikes me as phenomenally rude that a total stranger would assume for themselves the right to inquire about another person's major spending areas... but then, I'm also the sort who thinks it's obnoxious to inform someone of how much you've spent on their birthday present (and yet I still have people who tell me, every single year). The answer, for those who apparently do not have access to the internet, is that it costs between $18,000 and $22,000, depending on the features.
2. What's it like to drive?
Surprisingly fun. It took a bit of getting used to, but now it's something I enjoy immensely and highly recommend, particularly for urban use.
3. Is it safe? / Do you feel safe?
Another question which borders on the hopelessly inappropriate. Is it safe? Yes. I am not in the habit of driving around in cars that might explode, disintegrate, or turn into marshmallow, nor do I understand why anyone would think that I would. Do I feel safe? While not wanting to get into the lengthy process of disabusing anyone of their built-in illusions of personal safety, I will again say yes. I also feel that if you hit a 4-door with a truck, you're just as likely to be killed. It's a truck.
You may not see me
July 15 2005 - 6:51
p.m.
Must shortly get back in the habit, and then it's a midnight Potter pickup. Cottage-bound in an attempt to digest the tome whole. Send money and/or magic ASAP
Bad daddy!
July 14 2005 - 10:07
a.m.
Chad and I ordered us up some deluxe Buffy goodness yesterday, and hot on its heels, here comes another slice of awesome:
Wow. I'm gonna have to sell my 12" Buffy and Angel dolls to be able to afford that one. But how can I not? Look at her! She comes with a dead bird for crying out loud! "The bird's dead, Dru. You left it in a cage, and you didn't feed it, and now it's all dead, just like the last one."
Meanwhile, this would seem to indicate that they've finally given up on doing commentaries for every single Simpsons episode... although it's more likely a misprint. Man I wish they'd figure out that nothing they have to say is remotely interesting any more. Still, I'm looking muchly forward to Simpsons Season 6, just cuz it happens to contain the episode that I trot out as my "favourite" whenever a "favourite" is required, being "Bart vs. Australia."
Oh: and the giggle-fit that I went into when I found this pretty much proves that the girl has completely hijacked me and turned me into the biggest Degrassi nerd on earth. Degrassi. Who knew?
Star Wars is forever, or so they say
July
13 2005 - 11:25 p.m.
Comic Con 2005 is underway, and the first big news out of the San Diego area is that Hasbro has abandoned the license for 12" Star Wars figures... and that the line has been promptly snapped up by Sideshow Collectibles. They're the cats doing the Buffy and Angel dolls, along with a whole host of other movie-related 12" tasties (X-Files, James Bond, Hellboy, etc.) so it seems like a reasonably good fit. If'n and suppose'n they can do a proper ROTS Obi-Wan Kenobi, I'm a happy camper.
In the meantime (insert your "The circle is now complete" gag here), I've finished the somewhat torturous procress of writing review/appreciations for the original Star Wars trilogy, with my final review on the saga, Return of the Jedi. It took me a lot longer to get a bite on this one than I thought it would, but a few appropriate images and some nice music got my engines going this morning, and I came back to it repeatedly during the day in my efforts to get it done. Not 100% satisfied, of course, but it's as close as it'll ever be, for a piece about my faourite film ever.
Daddy fixation
July 13 2005 - 4:03
p.m.
Today was a big enough day in comics to give me something fairly substantial to sit down with. The second issue of the Angel mini-series arrived, with yet another spate of alternate covers; the promise of the Spike/Angel image on the cover I ended up buying was not fulfilled, and the story failed to revisit that fateful alley in any way, shape or form, settling instead on some fairly tame anti-vampire melodrama. I hope August's Spike one-shot is better than this.
 |
More enjoyable by far was the first issue of the Serenity prequel mini-series. I chose the Mal cover for this one, because as much as the Inara cover should have been the winner, it just plain sucked. The story, on the other hand, was endlessly fun, and really felt like part of the canon... looking forward to seeing how it will end up, particularly in terms of Book's through-line. And I might write a letter to them, too, because it would be nothing short of a kick to have my name somewhere in Issue #2 or 3 of this little slice of Firefly history.
NYX has been one of the great disasters of recent Marvel titles; the mutant street kids chronicle, written by Editor-in-chief Joe Quesada, got off to a strong start with a decent issue #1, a better issue #2, and an issue #3 that pretty much smacked it out of the park... before everything fell apart. Issues #4 and 5 were pretty tame, and not helped by the fact that Quesada failed to meet any of his deadlines. Now #6 has finally arrived after a whopping twelve month delay, and it bears all the hallmarks of a title that was being set up to go somewhere, and is now clearly not going anywhere, and is being wrapped up too quickly by the writers who feel responsible enough for the story to want to tie it up, but not responsible enough to actually do what they planned with it. It's frustrating, but after waiting for it so long, the edge has dulled significantly. Let's get the final issue over and done with soon, so we can all stop thinking about this. (It's currently scheduled for August 30, but believe that when you're holding it in your hands.)
It's their week, so I finished things off with Utlimate Fantastic Four #21, which is the first time I've bought an FF title. Really enjoyed it actually; the artwork is great (Sue Storm is hotter than Jessica Alba? Jessica Alba isn't quite hot enough to play Sue Storm? What?) and the story was pretty decent. It involves some kind of alternate universe mumbo jumbo, but did I mention that Sue Storm is hotter than Jessica Alba? Enough said.
I'm enjoying the Avengers/X-men crossover House of M enough that I might pick up House of M: Fantastic Four to continue the theme. Next week should finally see the release of Astonishing X-Men #11, a couple of months late. Man, Joss, I love ya, but you're making the frustrations of Fray seem relatively light...
Eggs explode
July 12 2005 - 4:12
p.m.
My theory is that there are worse things in life than buying one "Need" DVD per month. I belatedly bought Casino today, which was to be last month's selection; I ordered Forgotten Silver for this month, and cancelled my order of Tokyo Story, cuz it just ain't coming. I may pick it up next month at HMV, but will more likely favour Throne of Blood or The Lower Depths in my ongoing efforts to complete my Kurosawa library. You ask: where's the money coming from for all this? I answer: who cares?
Today Rogers went ahead and locked out the outgoing mail port that I use to communicate with the Tederick.com mail server. They did this without telling anyone; I'm now informed that their corporate policy in cases like this is to just go ahead and make the switch, and let the customers figure out the problem as it arises, rather than inform the customers directly. This policy cost me three hours of my morning, making me none too happy with Rogers (more so than usual). I did, however, learn a few cool Eudora tricks in solving the problem, so I'm somewhat proud of myself.
Did anyone else know there's a V-Wing now? Pretty spiffy:
I'd buy a toy of that. Or at least, look at it in the box for a good long while.
We're back into "ungodly hot" here in the city of Toronto. I had a few tasks to accomplish today but ended up in RH with Jason, eating steak and buying shinydisks. I'm giving myself a pass on my various responsibilities, because being responsible is getting me nowhere. And I'm doing my best to help out with the energy crisis, and you should too, but right now I have absolutely no qualms about turning on the A/C and reading magazines for the rest of this languid, overheated day.
Japanese schoolgirls
July 12 2005 - 10:57
a.m.
The biggest podcast ever is back yet again with MaMo #4, which should be subtitled "now we're really getting somewhere," because it really feels like we are. I'm looking forward to continuing this through TIFF, and if possible, doing on-the-ground podcasts on a far more regular basis throughout the festival. Or that, anyway, is the plan.
Can I get a moment of consideration for unsympathetic protagonists? Novel writers, it's time to stop with this. I had this problem last year with The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime (where, admittedly, it wasn't the protagonist's fault that he was a complete fucking moron), and I just had it again with Vernon God Little. Protagonists who are too gallingly stupid to get out of their own shit just aren't the sorts of folk you should hang a book around. Why? Because it's fucking annoying, that's why. When the autistic kid was running around the train station afraid to talk to anyone in Dog, I wanted to step through the pages of the book, lift him up by the neck, and smack the shit out of him.
My outgoing mail is not working at this point, so it's interesting watching people get in touch with me, without knowing that there is little hope of response. It makes me fat like a king.
Book of Fours
July 11 2005 - 6:50
p.m.
Today, in exactly this order, but without my knowing it beforehand, my to-do list said this:
see Fantastic Four
Podcast #4
write 4 pages of script
I can't decide if that's creepy, or highly predictable.
I am the leper, I do as I flep her
July
10 2005 - 10:35 p.m.
Nuns That Fuck shoot went very, very well... even if we only got halfway done. Well, more than halfway. I have to do the Clerks scene at Zellers and then the immolation in my back yard, and then the second-unit No Glove, No Sockfucky, and then I think we're pretty much all the way done. This was the first time in a very long time that I was actually excited to look at the rushes - and aside from a minor tape garble at the very end of the reel, and a bit of overexposure on one important shot, everything lived up to or exceeded my hopes. I'm really happy.
Me as a nun, but not the titular nun.
Mark, standing in.
Adam, who popped in for a cameo
and stayed to do some
supervisin'.
This is what a Jack Daniels bottle full of blood
would look
like if it was very far away.
A sign in the making.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm just a nun, having fun."
Praise the lord!
Most of the day was spent with me and Mark conversing as Stewie from last week's episode of Family Guy, when he's goading Brian about not having written his novel. Example. Way, way too much fun.
Gonna try to wrap things up by the end of the week... very pleased with how this one's going.
The Final Obstruction
July 10 2005 - 2:03
p.m.
Mer will be leaving us in just a few short weeks for a year in Nova Scotia. Historically, she's also the only FORPer who was never Obstructed during last year's Obstruction project. Of course, the project lies in ruins - I being the only filmmaker in the FORP to actually complete his assignment, and FORP itself having been dashed upon the rocks of procrastinatory oblivion (or, at least, had its web site removed from the internet, which is the next best thing). Nevertheless, we thought it might be a nice idea to complete the Obstruction set and give Mer a send-off, even if it was the last thing our perennially-recalcitrant filmmaker friend would ever have wanted to do to mark the occasion. Nevertheless...
There was the usual glee at watching the old work, which (as always) was much better than anyone recalled. Afterwards, we watched Ryan, which may not have been the best primer with which to launch Mer on her Obstructed way, nor I on my way to the Nuns That Fuck shoot this afternoon, but I suppose a little less heel-dragging and a little more reluctant movement wouldn't be a bad thing for any of us.
My first track mark
July 7 2005 - 11:33
a.m.
If you are living in the U.K. and would like to immediately render support for the aid efforts for today's bombings in London, please visit redcross.org.uk. I'm sure I speak for all Tederick.com readers in offering our sympathies and hopes to the victims and their families, and all of our British friends.
My body's taken a pretty noticeable beating in the past few days. My ankle was giving me serious problems during soccer on Tuesday night, causing me to quit the game ten minutes early. My feet are fairly torn up with a variety of holes and cuts for no good reason other than that I've been barefoot and sandal-foot for most of the past two weeks. And I got a blood test yesterday and now have my first track mark - a big, ugly, swollen closed vein on my right forearm that's bruising up like a bitch. And my balls hurt, for no apparent reason whatsoever. When walking around is just sort of inherently painful, you know I'm going to be in a bad mood.
And they pushed the Serenity comic off by a week. Bastards.
Both Rebelscum and Galactichunter are reporting that Hasbro's Star Wars Unleashed line is being discontinued this year, which sucks even more than their failure to provide a 12" Revenge of the Sith Obi-Wan doll. Unleashed is easily one of the best runs they've had on the modern toy line, and although they're certainly encountering a dearth of new characters to Unleash, I was hoping we'd at least get an Unleashed Boushh. Going to have to settle for Gentle Giant's fairly kick-ass Boushh mini-bust instead... although I'd probably have to sell my Celebration Sandtrooper in order to afford it. Bah. Stupid money.
Correcting proofreading errors all day. Stupid english language.
Sleepy Hollow
July 7 2005 - 2:10
a.m.
Ironically, I can't sleep - ironic because I spent the whole day utterly bushed for no good reason whatsoever. I gave up on the tossing and turning in fairly short order and now I've just finished the assembly of Far, Far Away..., the long-delayed Celebration III video journal. Nothing like getting up in the middle of the night and smacking down a few things you'd been procrastinating to make you feel good about yourself. I must now divide this material into the four-odd sub-documentaries I'm going to turn it into, and come up with a way to make them interesting. Then it's off to the Star Wars Fan Films with these suckers. Gotta win me a little gold Artoo n' Threepio.
This morning I had a fairly spectacular lucid dream. I've had a few lucid moments in dreams before, where I realize that I'm dreaming and proceed to do something like fly off into the sky or something. This time, though, I had direct control for a fairly lengthy sequence of events without even trying. I was at (hmm, more irony) some sort of Star Wars convention. I was with Kate, and we decided to leave the dealers' room, and when we got out into the corridor, I realized that Kate was not Kate - she was sort of a weird blending of Rachel Griffiths and a girl that works at the IGA. And it was this realization that twigged me to the fact that I was dreaming, and as soon as I realized this, I dispensed with non-Kate and brought in the real Kate for some kissage, and then I thought to myself "Well, if I can have this level of control, then clearly, we should both have lightsabres," and I was answered by the twin snap-hisses of our sabres sparking up in our hands, as a squadron of clonetroopers rushed in to surround us. The Jedi robes melted onto our backs, and we made a pretty spectacular fight against the clones, before I woke myself up with laughing because I was just having so much damned fun.
Bat Daddy
July 6 2005 - 10:20
p.m.
I just took my dad to see Batman, which I've been meaning to do for about two and a half weeks (it was his Father's Day present). First of all: that's some pretty fuckin' good Batman. I love nothing more than a movie that improves on repeat viewing, and this is a mighty example of that. It's a real credit to the film that Liam Neeson's performance is so fucking good that it actually made me completely forget how unbelievably great Cillian Murphy is as the Scarecrow - and Murphy is really, really great. Tonight was like meeting the character all over again, having pretty much erased his existence from my mind last time around due to the overwhelming coolness of everything else. But man alive, that's some pretty awesome Scarecrow.
Second: my dad loved it, which is great. I was worried that without the more accessible comic sensibilities of the original films (he really got a kick out of Jack Nicholson and Danny De Vito), he might not enjoy it as much, but he was right in there. Loved the Batmobile (of course), dug the story, really liked Christian Bale, went berserk when Gordon turns over the Joker card. Like when my mom ended up going hardcore over Lord of the Rings, it's moments like this that make me glad to have the genes that I have.
But holy wasted attention span, Batman: they played twenty-five minutes of commercials and trailers before the movie. Eleven minutes of ads, in fact, and fourteen minutes of trailers. After the show, I complained to the manager, calling it ridiculous and disrespectful of the audience, and saying that the next time they did it, I would walk out and get my money back. Manager-woman, of course, just smiled and nodded, but I figure if I complain every single time they piss me off I'll at least go home feeling better, and someone, someday, might actually get tired of hearing it from me. The theatrical movie distribution industry is in turmoil over low revenues, and they're doing more things to keep adults out of the theatres? What?
McSomethin'orothers
July 6 2005 - 1:07
p.m.
Is the best name given to a baby this year Moxie Crimefighter Jilette, or is it Toshiro Lucas McWeeny?
I just threw out my library card.
Nate killed a bird.
July 4 2005 - 11:44
p.m.
I'm pretty much of the opinion now that Billy going on about seeing a ripped-open ballsack was about the funniest fucking thing I have ever seen on television. Sfoo 5x04 was the "break" episode, the one where all the miasmic nastiness that has been building (and how) for the first three episodes of the season finally breaks open like ripe fruit, and all the glop comes spewing out and hits everyone in their surprised faces. These are generally very satisfying episodes because they relieve the tectonic pressure, although (as the girl pointed out) this one mighta been more satisfying if there was actually some whimsy to be found. (A ripped-open ballsack, though funny, is not whimsical.) I suspect, fortunately, that having now sustained the break, the next few episodes might get back to the more effervescent style. Or who knows, everything might slip deeper into hell. It's tough to judge on these final seasons of "quality adult drama."
Deadwood's going to swing around to where I left it off in mid season 2 within the next couple of weeks, too, and then boy howdy, it'll be HBO goo all over the damn place.
No hippo
July 4 2005 - 8:08
p.m.
I make absolutely no claims to the list of blogs down below being any kind of exciting. I realize that over half of those people blog about once every gazillion years, and a couple of them have stopped altogether (for now), and one of them's at camp. It doesn't matter to me; the links stay up as long as the sites are up. Why? Cuz they're my friends, that's why. Measure your visitation frequency accordingly.
Today I found a copy of the very first issue of Batman I ever read - #383, the one where Bruce Wayne just can't get any sleep. Yep, that's the short version of the description, which also explains why it took me a couple of years of on-and-off Googling to finally come upon a site that actually confirmed the issue number in question. (I had long since forgotten.) Once I knew those three magic digits, I went out and bought that puppy and now I'm kickin' it '80s-style. Bought me G.I. Joe #49, too, for essentially the same reason. And the ads in these issues? Priceless!
My hand is crampy from filling out festival submission forms and I am driven irritable by the sheer number of things I didn't get done today. But all the things that I did to procrastinate the doing of the other things were either a) financially solvent, b) creatively significant, or c) just plain pleasurable. So. Eat that.
The very best result from my Search requests in this month's stats: "Chef Carmen and Juni are going to show kids how to make pizzas." I mean, what?!
Podcastery
July 4 2005 - 1:47
p.m.
(And in the "I've been meaning to post this since last night at nine" pile...)
Check out the podcast site for the last-ever episode of MaMo. Well, the last ever episode before Fantastic Four farts all over us next weekend.
So far I'm having an incredibly good time doing this. I actually listened to the entirety of podcasts 1 and 2 yesterday for the first time, and I'm pleased with the results... but mostly it's just fun to feel like I'm doing something interesting and creative with my time. Which is odd, because isn't that what I always do with my time?
Smile.
July 3 2005 - 7:02
p.m.
This is just absolutely gorgeous:
Like, find it, frame it, put it on my wall gorgeous.
I honestly don't know if this flick can work at all: if it's actually the story that the trailer makes it out to be, it might be a lot of fun. Since it's written by Ehren Krueger, though, it might also be a gigantic, Van Helsing-style disaster. But I'm definitely looking forward to finding out.
Daniel sent in a great op-ed piece from the Times, about how Bush has failed to learn some important Hollywood lessons about packaging a war on terror, lessons that (of course) Mr. Spielberg has a bit more experience with. Good read.
I read The Killing Joke today; I think the last time I read it was probably over fifteen years ago, maybe on the second or third time I had ever been to the Silver Snail - wrap your head around that. I had completely forgotten how fucking great that story is. Wow. And it gives the most cogent clue to who in the world is the best choice for the Joker in the next Batman movie, a movie I'm dying to see more and more: Alan Cumming. Honestly, there's a panel in Joke (written and drawn a half decade and change before Cumming was even a recognizeable actor) that looks so much like him that it's actually spooky. Cumming would nail this shit. He's a great match for Bale, he fits under Nolan's cast-Brits-as-Americans M.O., and let's face it, he's a fucking brilliant actor. It's perfect. Look at him in Titus and tell me that's not the guy. Make it happen, Warners.
Ever since I reorganized my DVD wishlist to restrict the number of "Needs" to under twenty, I've had the notion that I really oughta just burn through that list at a rate of one a month - I mean, a movie afficionado can't really ask more than having all of his "most wanted" flicks under his roof within a year and a half, can he? I dropped the ball on Casino last month (a DVD I've literally been waiting for for five years), but I'll try to snag that and one more title this month to start winnowing the list down. I'll never get around to the really expensive stuff, but hey, that's birthday fodder.
I was walking home from the coffee shop today, and stumbled upon Samba Squad beating the shit out of Logan and Danforth - I mean, that's a fucking show, and it was open air, and free, and very, very awesome. Listen to this. Now try to filter out the awfulness of the camera mic and imagine that in person. Thorax-shakingly good shit. Man, I love living where I live.
Moving the girl went great. Going to settle in for a quiet night. Thanks to a bit of garbage picking, we now have a table on our back deck, which shall be used appropriately.