Tales · from · my · Head

So, it's been over a month since I wrote B is for Bridge, which is flooring to me. My life has been so hectic of late that I honestly thought it had just been a few weeks.

Anyway, As of last night, I'm back to work on my novel on a hopefully-regular basis, but to mix things up I'm writing it by hand now. No way to measure the word count, but I'm quite enjoying it. It's been a while since I've started anything at the pen-and-paper stage.

For those of you who are interested in these things, I'm writing in an acid-free ruled journal, hardcover, that my girlfriend's parents bought me. I think it's from Lee Valley. I'm using a Bic GripRoller Fine, which I actually bought for inking back when I was still drawing regularly. It has a great flow to it, so it just glides over the paper.

I just introduced a new character into Heart of the World Machine who was inspired by two bands I've been listening to lately: Tinariwen, who are a Tuareg folk/rock group, and Corb Lund, who's a local alt-country act. If you're wondering how those two things could ever collide into a single character, you need to read up about the Tuareg, and then cross-reference Corb Lund's latest album "Horse Soldier! Horse Soldier!" and tell me what you come up with.

So, I've been posting here since November of 2004, and I'm wondering what I have to show for it. I originally started this blog as a reason to pots something creative every single day. It's gone through a lot of format changes, but I don't think I've EVER managed to keep up the one-post-per-day goal.

It has managed to keep me more creative than I might have been otherwise, and it lets me keep in touch with a lot of other people, which is good.

On the other hand, since I do my best to avoid real-life events, and don't actually record any details of the things that are happening to me here, this blog pretty much fails to serve as any kind of record of my life, which is... interesting, I think is the best word. Strange, perhaps.

So, I don't usually do New Year's resolutions, but I am going to do one, blog-related. No, I'm not going to resolve to post every day. That's going to be impossible, given the upcoming year. Instead, I'm going to try to be more positive when I comment on other people's blog. I really enjoy comments here, and it bothers me that I can't seem to post comments on other people's blogs without sounding like an arse. Even when I try to be nice, I come across as WAY too snarky.

Anyway, I hope 2007 is a better year for everybody. I hope that we stop killing foreigners for oil and prestige, and I hope that we start becoming more concerned about the world we live in. I hope that fewer species go extinct and that polar ice decay is slowed or stopped, even if it's temporary. I hope that the standard of living for the worst-off is improved, and that growth rates are brought under control so that infrastructure can keep pace. I hope that we can develop that infrastructure without sacrificing too much of the natural wonder around us. I wish the best to all of you, and everyone you know, and everyone else too.

There are those of you I consider my friends, and everyone else I consider potential friends. I hope not to alienate anyone in life's journey, not because I am desperate for approval, but because we are so much stronger together than apart.

Welcome to the new year, however you may choose to record it (if you use a lunar calendar, you might not record it for a little while yet). Myself, I am fond of thinking it's the year 2760 AUC, but only out of nerdy pique. Have a good one.

My friends, allow me to introduce you to the Nouga Nut bar. The ingredients listed on the website don't give you the grand feeling that the ones listed on the package I have do. Here is the text from the package:

INGREDIENTS: GLUCOSE, SUGAR, PISTACHIOS, PASTEURIZED SPRAY DRIED EGG WHITE, NATURAL ROSE WATER, MAY CONTAIN TRACES OF PEANUTS.

Sugar, sugar, and nuts, I get. It's the PASTEURIZED SPRAY DRIED EGG WHITE, I suspect, that makes this bar a crime against humanity. On the website, the manufacturer claims "Our ORIGINAL NOUGA NUT BARS are based on a centuries old formula. Their unique taste and texture have made this a highly popular product. Shandiz' modern production process guarantees that our nougat is always fresh and an affordable delicacy for nougat lovers everywhere."

Firstly: Unique taste and texture. Let's talk about the unique taste and texture for a moment, shall we? Have you ever made lemon meringue pie? You know how after a week (if by some miracle the pie lasts that long), the places where the meringue has touched the pie plate have crusted into a hard, sugary, eggy goo? That's what these bars have the texture of. Similar to stale marshamllows and half-rancid mayonnaise. And the taste... well, let's just say I could've used more glucose and rose water. These things are about as bland as they come, except for the unmistakable taste of PASTEURIZED SPRAY DRIED EGG WHITE -- something which, if you'd asked me an hour ago, I would say I could not identify at all.

Secondly: This product is popular? With NOUGAT FANS? Not only do I have a hell of a time believing in nougat fans (what, do they wear little hats with a big "N" on them, and have long-winded internet forum posts about how most boxed chocolates have inferior nougat to the esteemable Pot of Gold, but that PoG has fallen since its golden years? Do they have a fantasy nougat league?), not only am I unsure that I have ever tasted worse nougat, but the idea of this problem flying off store shelves when it's 150% of the cost of a Milky Way makes my mouth hang agape with wonderment and fear for the human race.

In short: Nouga Nut, I hate you. You almost made me barf. I've even lost respect for the mighty pistachio, because of its collusion with your evil enterprise. I have a suspicion that the traces of peanuts are all that left when the peanuts realized that this product would tarnish their image as the world's most popular nut, and they had to get the hell out of Dodge before they were coated in PASTEURIZED SPRAY DRIED EGG WHITE. The end.

I mourn the passing of good conversation.

Perhaps a friend I never had. Perhaps not dead, but simply absent. And yet I mourn nonetheless.

I cannot recall the last time I sat down and had a discussion of relevant matters. I have had many a "bitch session", where people air their collective gripes, and lately I've been involved in a lot of discussions of personal problems and airing of griefs. But a conversation, an expressing of opinions and ideas about some important social issue, the relative value of a piece of art or entertainment, the status of some ailing icon? I don't think so.

Perhaps it is because my social group is so fragmented, and composed of people with such widely variant interests. Spread out across the Province, the Country, the World as we are, we have few opportunities to simply sit and talk, perhaps over a glass of wine or a mug of beer. Everyone has their own personal projects as well, and their constant driving need to be entertained. It leaves few enough opportunities to gather, let alone converse. When we do talk, it is often over the phone or -- more common yet -- over instant messenger programs, which not only limit the depth of a conversation, but also the number of participants.

It likely doesn't help that few people -- and not just people I know, but all people -- have the energy or temerity to keep themselves educated on matters of import. Nor does it help that our North American society seems set up specifically for the purpose of preventing conversation. Our pubs have blurred the lines that divide them from discos: the Black Swan, near my apartment, one of the all-too-common Ye Olde Englishe Pubbes that goes so far out of its way to prove its "authenticity" that it immediately reveals its lack thereof, plays modern dance music at such a volume that two people sitting across a small table from each other have to shout themselves hoarse to communicate. I can't recall a single English Pub that played music at all, let alone so loudly it was nearly painful. People would go to talk, and sometimes, you would even talk to strangers; anybody in one of those places was fair game for conversation.

What else do people do in groups for fun? Watch movies -- a distinctly passive, nonconversant activity; play games -- board game nights are becoming more and more common, even among my non-geek friends, but while playing games is a good way to connect with those around you, it's ill-suited as a setting for discussing current events.

Perhaps it's that the current level of suffering is distracting or intolerable. Many of my friends are going through painful periods in their lives right now, which can make it challenging to think of anything else, let alone discuss it. Similarly, many of the world's woes now strike people as those problems which are "too big"; it seems futile to discuss the nuclear armament of North Korea, for example, since such issue has only two resolutions: either things are fine, or everyone is dead. Hardly any room for discussion at all.

And yet... I know a very bright group of people. I know artists and actors and blue-collar workers and lawyers and scientists. Do none of these people have opinions? Are there no matters which inspire them to speak out? Do they have nothing to say on issues of global, local, or even internal import? We can talk about anything, really, I'm not picky. You want to talk about Fall Fashion Lines? Great! I know nothing about the topic of modern fashion, but I have a smattering of art history, and I know a fair bit about the psychology of marketing! There must be some way we can make that mesh. You want to talk about the rapid depletion of natural resources at a rate that exceeds the ability of the system to regenerate? Excellent! I'm reading a book on that right now! You want to discuss the contributions of slave labour to the collapse of past societies, and make comparison between that and the modern erosion of the middle class, to the point where our working-class is little more than indentured service? Fascinating! I have much to add to that topic, both from historical, political, and philosophical positions.

And yet we go forth in silence. Can anybody explain that to me?

Hello? Is anybody listening?

Well, it's coming up on 2007, and I for one have never been happier.

Sure, it means I will have to join the quarter-century club shortly, although every year gets me that much closer to trading in my "honourary" curmudgeon status for the full-bore version.

But I'm happy for a very good reason! Film companies LOVE putting out special edition DVDs, and 20-year anniversaries are excellent times to do just that. So here's a partial list of all the movies that will likely be getting 20th anniversary treatment!

Top grosser for that year: Three Men and a Baby! Well, alright, so I'm not excited about this on DVD. In fact, I'm not excited about this in any form. Moving on.

Good Morning, Vietnam! Now we're talking! Granted, 20-year-old political humour about a 45-year old conflict, that's probably even more pressing given that the US has once again thrown themselves headlong into an unwinnable war... ok, 1987, stop depressing me.

The Untouchables! The put one of ours in the hospital, we put one of theirs in the morgue! Sigh. If only this movie didn't start Kevin Costner. And suck. Come on, there's got to be something good here...

Ah! Lethal Weapon! That's right, the FIRST time that Danny Glover was too old for this shit was in 1987! Now that's a boxed set in the making. Oh, wait, isn't there already a boxed set of Lethal Weapon flicks? Ok, ok, I'll keep looking.

The Witches of Eastwick: Jack Nicholson as the Devil, knocking up a bunch of aging hotties (Cher, Susan Sarandon, Michelle Pfieffer, all at the minimal plastic surgery point). This was an alright flick, except for the fact that at the time I had no understanding of what made these women attractive. They were already old enough that I didn't get it. But, hey, Jack as the Devil is pretty unforgettable! Scared the hell out of me.

Adventures in Babysitting! I recall that being awesome when I was... umm.. 5. How does it stand the test of time? Find out in the inevitable 20th anniversary special edition, with bonus features involving more... of... umm... whatever this movie was about!

Full Metal Jacket! There we go! I'm pretty sure there are like 5 DVD versions of this already, but for the 20th anniversary, they'll probably roll out the red carpet and give it the full-out Kubrick treatment: 5 bonus discs with hours and hours of deleted scenes originally intended for release: 2 solid hours of abuse from the Drill Sergeant, with symphonic music playing in the background! Pointless and meandering subplots about attractive people not having sex! Timely and timeless humour delivered into microphone equipment so bad that even the magic sound techs they have on CSI couldn't piece together the dialogue! No, really, I might buy this one.

Dirty. Dancing. NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER! I rest my case. Special edition DVD features even more of Patrick Swaze in tights.

Innerspace. Crazy Scientist makes a shrinking ray and puts a miniature astronaut into Martin Short. Hilarity ensues. In this special edition, the DVD itself actually shrinks to the size where you can inject it into your bloodstream and temporarily take on the powers of Martin Short. Why anyone would want to eludes me.

The Fly! The 20th anniversary special edition of this horror classic comes sealed in a special biohazard bag, because it actually contains the dissolving digestive acid of MILLIONS of houseflies who had vomiting induced on them by being forced to watch the special edition of Dirty Dancing over and over.

The Lost Boys. Jason Patric. Corey Haim. Keifer Sutherland. Corey Feldman. 1987, and they are all young, innocent boys. Now, along comes Joel Shumcher, who dresses them in biker leathers and has them pretend to be vampires. Is it any wonder these young men all had substance abuse problems, and only Kiefer is still working (substance abuse being a coming-of-age ritual in the Sutherland household anyway)? This special anniversary edition DVD comes complete with a Chinese takeout box full of "Maggots, Michael! You're eating maggots!"

Masters of the Goddamn Universe. Starring Dolph Mutherfucking Lundgren, and featuring one of my personal most-quoted lines in my whole life: "I DARE ANYTHING! I AM SKELETOR!" Seriously, if this movie DOESN'T get the anniversary treatment, there will be hell to pay. Bonus points for the fact that it was a late-80s attempt to justify the overabundance of synthesizers by claiming that "tones" were the secret of unlocking the powers of the universe. And Skeletor's clone army marching down the streets of Suburbia, flanking his evil hover tank. Brilliance!

Predator. 20th Anniversary editions of Predator come draped in human skin, and features a personal invitation to Carl "You got soup, baby!" Weathers' acting classes. Also included is a list of other actors involved in this movie, and their plans to enter the US government. Director John "I made Die Hard, bitch" McTiernan could not be reached for comment, as he was in his secret lair atop Skullcrusher Mountain. Insiders say he was cackling insanely and talking about his "plans finally coming to fruition".

RoboCop. I know, at this point, you're thinking I'm making this up. There's no WAY 1987 was this amazing for movies. But it was. I shit you not, 1987 shaped our childhoods and shaped the modern world, and this is evidence incontrovertible. RoboCop has been referenced in everything from The Simpsons to Red vs. Blue, and its grim view of law enforcement has forced us to consider our own lives in... oh, to hell with it: HE HAS A HOLSTER IN HIS LEG! HE SAYS "DEAD OR ALIVE, YOU'RE COMING WITH ME!" THE BIG ROBOT FALLS DOWN THE STAIRS! RoboCop is a piece of cinematic genius. This special edition comes with a special retractable DVD case that you implant into you leg, allowing you to recreate RoboCop drawing his pistol, and also his stiff, somewhat-unstable walk.

Superman IV: The Quest For Peace. Yeah, everyone knows that Superman Returns ignores this movie, so it's no longer considered canonical for ANY purpose. But come on! Superman finally decides to DO something about the violence in the world, so he gets rid of all the nuclear weapons by hurling them into the sun; Lex Luthor (and his inexplicably British punk nephew) steals Supe's hair, mixes it with his very own "special sauce", and puts it on the missiles to be solarized; the Super-Hair and Evil Spooge combine with the nuclear reaction to form NUCLEAR MAN! who has all of Superman's powers and is born in a GLITTER-COVERED GOLDEN UNIFORM! Also, he can't function outside of direct sunlight, making him simultaneously the most and least powerful villain ever. From Wikipedia's article: "His cell structure is actually greater than Superman's, can discharge power, levitate objects, throw fire balls, create tornadoes, burn everything he makes contact with, crystalize objects, and make his nails longer. And he can roar!" HE CAN GROW HIS NAILS AND ROAR, PEOPLE! 20th Anniversary editions of Superman IV come with press-on Nuclear Man nails and a small vial of Evil Spooge.

Last, but certanly not least, the one movie on this list I already own on DVD, who could forget The Princess Bride? Widely agreed by nerds everywhere to be the second-most quotable film of all time (after Monty Python and the Holy Grail), people often forget that this was also the ultimate date movie (true love for her, violent swordfights for him, comedy for both, and just enough Peter Falk to get everybody a little frisky!). Although its initial box office release was something of a flop, Princess Bride made a mint in home video release. For the 20th anniversary edition, stars Cary Elwes (Robin Hood: Men in Tights) and Mandy Patinkin (Dead Like Me) sing a wonderful elegy, dedicated to the late Andre the Giant (Andre the Giant! Trust me, you know who he is), and director Rob Reiner (A Few Good Men, Spinal Tap) has included a clip of himself rolling around naked in a big pile of money, dedicated to everyone who DIDN'T see this movie in the theatre on release.

So, there you have it. 2007 will be a bellweather year for special edition DVD releases. I fully expect that Hollywood has already been brewing a lot of these concoctions in preparation to foist them on an unprepared public... I mean, it takes a long time to collect that much Evil Spooge.

Something about Autumn, makes me introspective.

So, yesterday, I was given the news that my parents are moving to Newfoundland, sometime before Christmas, basically uprooting themselves because forces beyond anyone's control have left them in a position where they aren't comfortable living in Alberta any more, and it got me to thinking about who I am, and the point I'm at in my life.

I work for a law firm, making obscene amounts of money for what is fairly routine work. I am in my field, but not actually doing what I want to do in that field. And despite the income, I have none of the things our society considers milestones of stability: no car, no mortgage. I have a puny RRSP.

I am currently dressed business-casual: slacks, dress shirt, no tie, top button undone. My belt cost fifty dollars; my shirt cost six, and came in a two-pack.

I have a brand new, top-of-the-line Sony Ericsson mp3 cameraphone... that I selected over its competitor because it's used by a video game character.

Funny the paths life leads us down.

Read other people's blogs puts me in a strange mood. I read the blogs of my friends with the knowledge that they expect me to do so. What I see there has already been "screened" by their brains to only contain information that I should have as one of their friends. vocabulicious actually just wrote this on pretty much that same topic, although her musing about personal relationships didn't have the crazy cyber-tech thriller edge that my observation about blogs does.

But!

It's not reading the blogs of friends that is strange, no. For me, it's reading the blogs of strangers that twists my brain in off-kilter ways. Last summer, working in a zero-stimulation job, I read the entire archives of this blog. Now, at the time, I was just looking for something fun to read, but having spied on several years of the life of Bob and Julie, the birth of their two kids, and the events of their life, I came to feel quite close to them, despite massive intervening distance, and the seperation of years (Bob is 19 years and 3 days older than I am). And if that's not a strange feeling, I don't know what is. I will comment on the journal in a friendly, informal way, and then chide myself for being so forward with people who are essentially strangers.

And then there's the middle-ground: the people who I do know, but not very well; or stranger yet, people I know well enough, but who sit on the opposite side of some conflict from myself or my friends.

The things I read on these blogs, I know is not meant for me. In fact, in some cases it's quite clear that the possibility that me specifically reading these words never entered the poster's mind, because of the serious potential breach of privacy that would result in.

And therein lies my underpinning problem. As a member of the Law Society of Alberta, I have certain conditions of professional confidentiality imposed upon me. While I can talk about the generalities of my job, and some of the tasks I perform, I can't ever divulge anything that might betray the identity of a client, even if all they are doing is a real estate transaction, or something else that's a mtter of public record. That being the case, I'm very much used to keeping secrets. But these bloggers who say so much... they aren't my clients, and, as I've said, not even really my friends. So I owe them nothing. But I have their secrets; thoughts screened with only their friends in mind. What am I to do with them?

If I share them with others, in fact, if I share them with those I feel should know, then great harm might be done. But if I don't share it, then I am keeping secrets I am not meant to have, for someone who did not want me to have them, against someone I care for.

Of course, blogs are a public forum. If I have access to this information, then so does anyone else who might want it. Yet still I feel compelled...

Sigh.

"We dance around in a ring and suppose / While the secret sits in the middle and knows"

-Robert Frost