Thinking of Natalie Merchant

Woke up this morning with About The Weather by 10,000 Maniacs running through my head. Got me thinking about how hot I used to find Natalie Merchant--she had that sexy librarian look down pat. Then I saw a recent video of her, and she's gone and made the criminal mistake of taking care of herself: she is now lithe, and as such, is pretty indistinguishable from most of the pop songstresses out there right now. Sigh. I miss the Frumpy Sex Goddess, Natalie. Bring her back.

So a rainy weekend. Heading out now to Gibralter, questing for Moscow Airport T-shirts. I hope to lose myself in some fine examples of pop culture this weekend, to actually finish and/or finally experience things I've been meaning to get around to for the lifespan of several thousand fruit flies. Among them:

--Halfway through Hard Freeze, by Dan Simmons. If you like your P.I.s to be hardass motherfuckers who like shoving creeps' hands down garbage disposals,then turning it on
, who throw people from speeding cars, and shoot murderers in the knees, leaving them to crawl through the snow, spreading blood and cartilege behind, then you'll probably be at home with Simmons' Joe Kurtz. If you like mysteries that involve tea cosies, you won't.

I've always been a fan of Dan Simmons, and his take on the hard crime genre is simply wonderful. He sets his tales in Buffalo, and he captures the hell of our winters, the general despair of the area, and the utter depravity of scumbags. There have been three Kurtz novels so far. I recommend them, but only if don't mind extreme violence and cuss words.



--Finally picked this up at Grooves yesterday. Haven't listened to it, but 'twill be in the car today. My friend Blair got me into them, and for that I adore her even more.

Other than that, I'll be working on tomorrow's Dungeons and Dragons game, with our paladin Alex Trebek perhaps making an appearance. The party are dealing with a looted inn, religious wars, and the usual Deep Threats From Beyond, so, you know, Business As Usual.

Temple

Had to take Anneke (my car--I name all my cars with the first name that comes into my head when I buy them) into the garage today, because I felt this need to have $200 taken from my wallet. I had felt the brakes weren't all they could be, and after that incident a few years ago when my brakes failed completely, I'm a tad nervous about little graphite pads stopping tires. My Jedi Brake Sense was working--the back brakes were thin--so they've been replaced. Huzzah!

Sadly, The Grotto of Master Mechanic is in East London. Walking down Dundas, I had vain hopes of grabbing a bus. Would it be the damnable No. 2 Dundas? The legendary No. 7 Southcrest? Or...none at all? For forty two minutes, I walked from Princess and Maitland all the way down to a stone's throw from Highbury. I saw one bus--a very crowded No. 2 that I knew would smell of farts and bad hip hop hygeine. So I walked, a lone man in green Converses lugging black travel bags, filled with gaming manuals and today's Globe and Mail.

I guess this is the part where I say it was depressing. And it was, really: seeing the manic energy of the people going into cheque cashing rip off joints, seeing the dangerous glances of people going about the business of getting pissed to the gills on tavern patios at 4:00 p.m., walking past tired looking women relating domestic problems with substance abuse at their centre, seeing street bravos parading down the sidewalk, ready for violence and vivid re-tellings of the story over a pitcher of beer that night. And as I made my way down Dundas, I see the casino. If there wasn't enough pain in evidence on this walk, there's another source of it right there. Funny how they never put casinos in North London. If you want to build a temple to addiction, make sure you get the landscape right. Everyone knows that a parasite can't live without a nourishing environment.

Reasons To Live, No. (Docking Bay) 94

Oh, this is fun.

Cher and I picked up Lego Star Wars II because after playing the first one--and completely adoring it--we really had no choice. The game is such a joyous collision of stupidity, hilarity, adoration and Danish plastic that it's impossible not to smile even thinking about it.

And I won't even mention finding stormtroopers in a hot tub. Or Leia walking around with her hand on her hip. Or...okay. I"ll stop now.

Ironic, Don't You Think?

Fact: I left Western in 1987, and we were both happy to see that particular relationship end. I was a student in the very first creative writing course held there, and it was my first realization that what most people considered 'CanLit' was what I considered to be an inside joke. My professor--who shall remain nameless--despised me. I was the 'bete noir' of the class, both for my choice of subject matter and rather irregular attendance. In our one and only public show--broadcast on CHRW--my professor took the opportunity to stick a small knife in my back. It was the first time I began to panic regarding my choice of becoming a writer--I had thought landing a spot in a CW class at UWO was like finding one's self in Lothlorien. Somehow, I thought I had 'made it'. Instead, it was a soul grinding display of exclusivity, of snobbishness, and growing despair. Not a good experience, to say the least.

Fact: I was contacted by Nelson Publishing yesterday. One of my columns for the Globe and Mail will be now used in a university textbook, teaching first year students how to write.

Cue Alanis here.

The Horrors of Splashback

Came down with the 2006 Upgrade to Apocalyptic Flu on the weekend. The joy included brain shredding headaches, inability to do anything but crawl around the house, and lots of Linda Blair style of vomiting. Oh, the horrors of splashback, of having puke and toilet water dripping from your hair and face. There are words, but they are gross.

So I spent last night being ill. But through it all, I did watch the televisual instrument. One of my favourite shows--The Amazing Race--is back. It did not disappoint, but it did: my two favourite teams--the Cleveland Muslims and Team Karma--including the beautiful Arti--were Philiminated early. So now I'm back to where I usually am with this show: despising the model and cheerleader types, and praying for those who really don't have a chance. Angry Goateed Dad with Lesbian Daughter will be my team, only because I want them to hug in a wash of violins at the end.

Also took in 'Studio 60 on The Sunset Strip'--which was all shades of clever. I really, REALLY liked it. I never got into Adam Sorkin's 'The West Wing', but this show about the backstage life behind a veiled 'SNL' was very impressive. I think it may even be too clever for its audience: will they actually care about the travails of writers, actors, and studio heads? Only if there is lots of sex and boobs. Clever wordplay? May not cut it.

So I'm off work today, still feeling like I've been dragged behind a rusty pickup across a dirt road. But my Healing Factor will kick in. Sometimes it helps to be a mutant, y'know.

Galaxies: Get With It. Everquest: Love You

I could probably have written three short stories in the time I've lost MMOing lately. Galaxies and Everquest have taken up a fair amount of time recently. I haven't pulled another all nighter, so I take that as a Good Sign. I'm still slightly productive.

My love for Galaxies has waned a bit. While it's cool to be in the Star Wars universe--such as it is--I'm finding the missions to be far too similar. I ended up caught in a loop in Mos Eisley because my character simply wasn't skilled enough to be there yet, so I started over again, doing each and every mission I was offered. The space missions have been the most frustrating--I have no idea who I'm supposed to shoot, and it's very easy to find yourself a gazillion miles away from where you're supposed to be. There is also a definite lag--I restarted a smuggling mission because my ship refused to dock with another ship, so I could unload my spice. Found out later all I had to do was wait for the computer to figure out what I was trying to do. Tap my fingers on the desk while the gremlins work, and then 'Voila!' Ship docks. Mission ends. To which I say: fuck.

Still, there are odd moments of it being charming. I did come across a grey, overweight Wookiee dressed in Jedi robes last night. His name? 'PuddinCup'. That made me smile.

But my love is really for Everquest. Gorgeous is a word that begins to describe it, then gives up and wanders away, dejected. There is a deeper variety of quests, more wonderful things to look at, more of a sense of humour, and more of a sense that--in a virtual sense--that you're getting somewhere.

My High Elf Nenya just cracked 10th level, but I'm still a baby in diapers in this world. I'm in Queynos now, this typical 'fantasy' city, filled with players whooshing by on flying carpets or horses with glowing hooves. I've bought my first apartment, complete with a wandering carnivourous plant. My interaction with other players has been somewhat limited: I'm too low level to join on any dungeon raids, but I did team up with another newbie to take down a necromancer. That was--to assume the parlance of geekness--cool.

So I'm unsure how much longer I'll stay with Galaxies. I think I'll try to finish those damnable space missions, and see what happens in Mos Eisley. If the same glitches occur, I'm out of there. It really could be a cool game, but it just seems held together with duct tape and hope. Everquest, on the other hand, makes me stop and just stare, slackjawed, every night.

Maybe if Galaxies went all Lego, that would save it. I'll phone George in the morning.

I Live In Hope

Just saw the trailer for Casino Royale. Colour me optimistic.

But My Mother Isn't Happy

My brother, the ever cool, ever tattooed, ever hip Greg, has made it past the first round of audtions to go on Miami Ink. The producers called and asked him for a tape to see what he looks like on TV, and he's sending that down to Miami this week. He's a little happy about this.

Mom--who is still in denial about the fact her little baby is pretty much the Illustrated Man--is getting pretty good at maintaining a fake smile about the whole thing.

I have two tattoos. Greg thinks I'm a lightweight.

Comics Roundup! YeeeHAW!

Mystery In Space #1--Bruno at B.A.'s Comics is evil. I had no intention of buying this title, even though the nostalgic shout-out aspect of the title had me by the geek short and curlies. But Bruno went on and ON about it, showing me some of Shane Davis' spectacular artwork--and I bought it.

I had never really got into Jim Starlin's work back in the Eighties--even though everyone was raving about Dreadstar, it just didn't do it for me. So I was surprised by how much I enjoyed his work on this new version of Captain Comet, the introduction of the chaotic Hardcore Station, and his surprisingly touching talking bulldog. I wasn't as in love with 'The Weird' back up, but it was still better written than expected. So for Shane Davis' art alone, this makes it the best book of the week.

Outsiders #40--It's undeniable this book has lost some of the dramatic power it had last year at this time. I think much of that is down to the fact that both Jade, Arsenal, and Captain Marvel Junior are gone (dead, now with JLA, and in flux, respectively). This team seems a little short now, and writer Judd Winick choosing to set them up against Mssr. Mallah and the Brain ( a gorilla and a brain in a box) isn't really helping. I like that Mallah and the Brain are now dealing in superhero DNA, making crap knockoffs of big heroes. But this story has gone on far too long. The introduction of the mastermind behind it all--Dr. Silvana from the Shazam mythos--has the Winnick touch (love of the past but with an eye at pissing off less pliable fans), but it didn't really knock me back. Which brings us to another Winnick book....

The Trials of Shazam #1
--Artist Howard Porter changed his style for this title, and I guess I'm the only one on Earth and nearby planets who doesn't love it. And I'm still unsure about Winnick's 'reinterpration' of Captain Marvel. He is now--apparently--becoming the new Shazam, all long white hair and white suit. How this will affect CMJ and Mary Marvel is up in the air, but knowing Winnick, I think we can count on several boob shots of Mary and at least two upskirt shots. Reconceptualizing the Marvels as being magical defenders against the myriad nasties out there is interesting, but it does take away from the basic allure of the characters: ordinary kids who can become heroes with one word.

I love the Marvel Family, but I sometimes think they never should have left Whiz Comics. The forced intergration of the Marvel mythos into the DCU (see above, and Mr. Mind playing a role in 52 just seems an ill fit.)

Supergirl and The Legion of Super-Heroes #21

--This is still being published? The Least Liked Legion continues, with Braianc Five in denial over Dream Girl's death, Supergirl is in denial about the Legion being nothing more than a dream she's having, and I'm in denial that this book will ever become readable.



Astonishing X-Men #16--God, I've always loved Kitty Pryde. And it's nice to see Joss Whedon feels the same way. This was superb: just fantastic, adorable X-Men goodness. If you're a Joss Whedon fan, an X-Men fan, or just someone who loves good comics and you're not reading this, why do you hate yourself so much?

Robin #153--It's good to end on two good books. Beechen and Williams are making Robin one of my favourite books every month, and here they do it again. Here we have Robin teaming up with the new Captain Boomerang (whose dad killed Tim Drake's father) to find a nuke in one of the many abandoned villian hideouts in Gotham. Tons of traps, some smart dialogue, and a surprisingly honest ending make this well worth your four dollars. Reading this book is like watching a huge Hollywood action film being directed by the Coen Brothers.

All (Force Sensitive) Apologies

Firstly, I do wish to apologize to loyal readers David and Crazylegs. I did not mean to activate your long dormant Star Wars love, leading you to contemplate this crazy, career destroying path I have taken: that is, to begin playing Star Wars Galaxies. To allay your fears, Crazylegs, I will say that I too heard the crap reviews the first game received, but can honestly say that this isn't that game. There have been some very nice upgrades, the game is easy to get into, and you start off fighting TIE Fighters from the turrets on the Falcon. I mean, honestly. How cool is that? And for David--them Star Destroyers do look nice, drifting across the star spangled sky. Almost makes me forget what bastards those Imps are.

So I've logged an embarassingly high number of hours on this game already, and I've learned a few things. First: do all the missions on the space station. I booked out early because I wasn't really feeling the space battles, and since Han didn't try to stop me, I figured it was kosher. But now I'm in Tatooine, and I'm having a hard time finding work. I am a space station dropout, and the best I can do is find work with the Mos Eisley dog catcher. Bit too much like real life, without the blasters.

Second: if you play a busty brunette smuggler, Jedi will follow you.

Third: stay away from Bantha Blood Fizz in the cantina. Stick with Milk. It's blue.

Fourth: ummm...it's nice to see fireworks at night? Almost as nice as the aforementioned Star Destroyers.

So I'm currently trying to find some underhanded work with Jabba, but the alleged criminal underworld is hiding from me in Mos Eisley. What can a smuggler chick do? I just might fire up my landspeeder (got me one of those already) and head off towards Mos Espa. A smuggler chick's gotta do what a smuggler chick's gotta do.