I Met God Today

Back in the olden days, when I used to write for the Free Press, I once did a piece on a woman who listed herself in the phonebook solely as 'God'. The story appealed to me simply because I knew it would piss off the religious right, so I called the number. I spoke with the woman over the phone, and she seemed very nice and extremely intelligent. A rare combination in our fair city. She and I had a bit in common, so we exchanged a few emails,talked about writing and how difficult it is to get paid, and then that was it. That was--I believe--about five or six years ago.

So today I see a striking woman in a black leather jacket. She glances at me, looks again, and then beckons me over. Since it's very rare that any woman pays any attention to me--let alone women dressed in black leather--I walked over to her.

"Are you Sean Twist?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered. I find it's always best to admit my mistakes.

"I'm God," she said. And then it hit me.

She talked about 'all the trouble I caused' her, with people calling her after the column. Most were young people who were cool with the idea, but some old coots called and read her the riot act. We compared notes about our writing careers, exchanged websites, and she was on her way.

So,all in all, a good day. And if you're wondering what 'God' looks like, here she is.

And no, this doesn't happen to me every day. Tomorrow I'm sure things will be back to normal--I'll step on a rake, slip in dogshit, and discover another part of me that has gone grey.

Geek RoundUp

No overriding theme this post, other than I think Jennifer Jones would make a kickass Black Canary. Moving on...

--Chad came over to game Thursday night. We rocked it with Burnout 3 (which remains my favourite driving game of all time, all realities, all Alterzac continiums. Burnout 4? For people who never left mommy's teat.)I threw Chad at a particular problem I've been having with my second go-through on Resident Evil 4, and to my great shame, he did far better than I have in numerous, jaw-grinding attempts. (I'm trying to get Leon across the lake where the giant mudpuppy lives--each time, I get devoured, becoming virtual mudpuppy poop about twelve hours later--no wonder that lake is so cloudy). Then we broke out Guitar Hero 2. Once again, Beloved Wife made us cry at our feeble attempts, while she is now the Master of all things Guitar Hero-ish.

--read The Brave and The Bold #1. My stars and garters, it was the Seventies again. This comic was such a delight--no angst, no Infinite Crisis/52 teeth clenching, no depressing, scorched earth storyline: it was just a simple mystery story featuring two beloved superheroes, Batman and Green Lantern. The art by George Perez made me feel like I was 14 again, reading The New Teen Titans, debating whether I thought Terra was cute or not.

I've had my issues with Mark Waid's writing of late (primarily with his handling of The Legion of Super-Heroes), but this has redeemed much. I always loved Brave and The Bold as a kid, primarily because it allowed me two heroes for the price of one. Now I think I love it because it reminds me of being a kid. Weird, that.

--Have you seen this?

Joyous!

My Dark Confession

I admit: I could care less about curling. Yes, I know it involves rocks, ice, brooms, and beer. Some of the sweaters are nice, too. But the only reason I pay the slightest attention to it is because it involves Jennifer Jones.

C'mon, admit it: you're in the same boat. We're all friends here.

Beauty fades. Canadian Cute endures forever.

Why We Should All Love Kristen Bell

After reading this month's Geek Magazine, I have discovered why we should all love Kristen Bell.

First of all, Ms. Bell is adored here in Casa Twist already. Veronica Mars is a show we do not miss ever, even as we bite our nails wondering when it will be cancelled. (It's too smart to last.) But now we have reasons to love her all the more. Here are just a few reasons:

--She loves Star Wars. "My body doesn't want to do Star Trek," she says, "my body wants to do Star Wars.

--She loves video games, and used to lock herself into her room to play Sonic The Hedgehog. She also used to run Goldeneye tournaments in college, and is very particular on what rules should be allowed in such tournies. (No 'Donkey Kong' mode, for one thing.)

--She is a big fan of The Office (both British and American versions), The League of Gentlemen, and The Trailer Park Boys.

--She has dressed up as Slave Leia for an upcoming film. That's reason enough to adore.

All The News You Need

Came across this last night.

Funny the things you find on the Innernet, isn't it?

Must Cheer Up

Everyone seems grumpy these days. I know I have been, and my fellow blogger David seems in need of a pick me up as well.

Well, this made me smile. And dance, although I'll never admit it.

Unexpected Whacked Out Craziness

Spent the weekend pulling knives out of my back, wondering if it's at all possible to have things happen in my life that are not either a)deaths of loved ones and/or b)disasters. Am I destined to become like Chris Eccleston's character in Heroes? Wandering the streets with my unkempt hair, scraggly beard, preaching that everyone sucks, that everyone disappoints, and why oh why did I let Tennant take over the role?

Then I came across the movie Shinobi.

Everyone knows I like my ninjas in a certain flavour--and that flavour is Fucked Up Crazy Ass Shit Stylee. I mean, just don't give me a ninja that can sneak around in the dark in black pyjamas. Give me a ninja that fires murderous threads from his cloak. Give me ninjas that swing across canyons like Spider-Man, or have super vision. And if they're Asian and beautiful (see above), then that's just bringing more awesomeness to the table.

Even though the romance in this tale was more to my wife's liking than mine, this is one fun film. Like Azumi, this film feels more like a manga that it does Crouching Tiger. You don't just have to suspend your disbelief--you have to call in a crane. But it's worth it. And it kept me from wandering the streets, trying to be invisible.

And So It Ends....

Recently, the London Free Press asked its' freelancers to sign a new contract. I had no trouble with most of it, but the one thing I didn't care for was Sun Media demanding the right to publish my work in any new media that hadn't been invented yet. I'm not kidding. In essence, they were demanding an eternal copyright. I very politely informed them that I didn't think that was fair.

I received this from the Free Press editor, Paul Berton, today:

Sean:

I appreciate your sentiments. I'm afraid this will end our relationship effective immediately. If you've already prepared next week's column, we'll try to use it and pay you for it one way or another. I want to thank you for your contributions to The London Free Press over the years.

Paul

Seven years, and this is how it ends. Not with a bang, not with a whimper, but an email. And not even with a cheerful Fuck You emoticon! I swear, what is media coming to these days? Can't they do a decent Fuck You letter anymore? Used to be in the day, Perry White would come out and smack you upside the head with an Underwood before he threw you out in the lobby. An email? Loses something somehow.

And so my Free Press years come to an end.

Highlights? Working with Larry Cornies was definitely one. Of course, he's no longer with the Free Press, having lit out of town awhile ago. Larry was a decent editor, someone who let me do what I wanted to, even if he didn't fully understand it.It was Larry who allowed me to do the 'Julius' columns, and even once put my cat on the front page, alongside Kiefer Sutherland. Larry was a good man to work for--he worked with his writers, and he believed in them. This creates a thing called 'loyalty', which is alien to many people these days.

Am I bitter? No, not really. A bit relieved. A bit sad.

I do enjoy the irony that the son of one of Canada's greatest authors fires me for standing up for the rights of writers.

Heh.

Tagged By Crazylegs

Okay, so I get tagged to do this thing by Crazylegs. The deal is that I have to come up with six weird things about me. Sadly, I'm just so damned normal. There isn't anything that strange about me. At least, I don't think so. But I'll still give it the old half assed innnernet try:

Six Kinda Weird Things About Me

1. I don't need much sleep. On average, I sleep four hours a day. Yes, I can sleep longer, but I feel terrible if I do. Five hours to me is like sleeping twelve. That's nice now and again.

2. I always play female characters in MMOs and RPGs. Don't know why. Just do.

3.I don't like drinking socially. In fact, I don't like drinking alcohol with other people. When I do drink--usually only wine, since I don't like whiskey or any other hard liquour--I like to read and listen to music.

4. I am a classic introvert. This article pretty much sums me up. Outside of my wife, I can only be around other people on average for two hours before I have to leave. Doesn't mean I don't love my friends, because I do: I just feel the need for solitude and empty spaces once we pass the two hour mark.

5.I have a deep love of media spin off novels. Even though I'm not overly fond of Star Trek, I adore many of the novels. I like the idea of mythologies growing beyond the borders in which they first began. I like the idea of an ongoing, deeper story arising from this--sadly, it rarely happens. Doctor Who is one of the rare exceptions, with the series becoming something else entirely during its Virgin novel run, with many of it's then revolutionary ideas now part and parcel of the new televised series. I like how many Trek authors push the franchise in ways Paramount never would--sexuality, violence, and actual adult behaviour instead of two dimensional heroics. And yes, I tend to go on.

6.I don't like meeting authors whose work I enjoy. For me, it ruins the relationship I have with their work. Only once has meeting an author turned out well--and that was with Tad Williams, who has become a dear friend. Others? I managed to piss off Douglas Adams by asking him about his Doctor Who story when he was promoting Last Chance To See, with Adams getting flustered with me for the question, glaring at me to leave. When I met Neil Gaiman, full of questions and awe, he was more intrigued with my wife. Which, now that I think about it, isn't all that surprising, really. So even though I adore the works of Susannah Clarke, J.K.Rowling, Stephen Baxter, Iain Banks, Elizabeth Moon and Lois McMaster Bujold--I'm happy to never meet them. Ever.

Oh, For Mooninites!

Man! Why can't we get Mooninites here in London?



I can think of at least ten places to hang them. No, make that twenty. We should just fill Victoria Park with them at Christmas. It would be both wholesome for those who like sparkly things in trees and fulfilling for the rest of us cynical sorts. I shall call the mayor and make my case. Because you know, me and Anne Marie DeCicco? We're like that.