OddLife: Daniel Robichaud's unfinished work
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
dark_towhead's LiveJournal:
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| Friday, July 3rd, 2009 | | 3:49 pm |
| | Thursday, July 2nd, 2009 | | 8:30 am |
From the Man with the electric brain . . .
40) A Woman a Day by Phillip Jose Farmer (220 pages, Berkley Books, 1980) A somewhat surreal Post-Whoops romp through a Paris ensconced in political, religious, sexual and moral conspiracies. A double agent doctor discovers love and lust with the dead wife (who may or may not be an extraterrestrial) of a political bigwig (wone of the heads of a church dedicated to the principles of a time travelling messiah who will be back . . . any . . . day . . . now) and squares off against a suspicious Agent of Authority in an effort to undermine . . . well, just about everything. Clones, curious relations, sexuality without sleaze, crimes, unauthorized dissections, surprising transgender switches, and a post apocalyptic Israel that has dominated the Mediterranean Sea area with colonies . . . Wow. This book is surprisingly complex for being so short. I find it a challenge to collapse plotline into a single paragraph, since so much happens. And the twists are actually surprising. Not bad for a novel first published in 1968. I have not read a lot of Farmer's work (shame on me!) and only now after he's dead do I find myself drawn to some of his work. I really should have got onboard earlier. There are a lot of intriguing ideas bubbling through his work (as many as in the works of that other sf-Philip: K. Dick, that'd be). A very strange read and a very strange experience. For the pun found in the name of super mysterious mastermind "Jacques Cuze" alone, I give this book a hearty recommendation. Current Mood:  thoughtful | | Wednesday, July 1st, 2009 | | 9:19 am |
Obama, ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) hntrpyanfar and I compare tattoos Talk about your weird dreams. Obama decided to drop by my old neighborhood while T and I were visiting my folks. He was having a Travels with Charlie moment, trying to get in touch with the people of the nation. We talked tattoos and he showed his: something in Kiswahili on the inside of his upper left arm and Hawaiian "waveform" tattoos on his leg. Dream-Obama liked T's English ivy tattoo, but he felt my skulls-on-barbed-wire "Communicates a provocative message advocating violence, possibly even inciting it in menial minds". Huh. From this, I conclude my dream brain/subconscious hates my tattoo. Note to my dream brain: Thanks for telling me this 8+ years after I got the thing. | | 8:45 am |
| | Monday, June 29th, 2009 | | 9:26 am |
Monster Spider Fiction
39) 'Nids and Other Stories by Ray Garton. (Spiderweb Press, 2006, 180 pages) An older limited edition book that I bought some time ago and never got around to reading. The big draw here is 'Nids, a novella length monster movie for the mind. It's got all the tropes, the horny teens who, while at makeout central, observe explosions and fire at nearby genetics company. Then, Something Big takes one of them away. We have a beleaguered small town Sheriff, trying to figure out first just what's going on and then how to stop it. We've got brilliant little brothers who happen to be experts in the field necessary. We've got plenty of gruesome hijinks around town as people don't act fast enough. We've got monster spider-things (giant sized of course) eating everyone. If the premise doesn't make you grin and long for a bucket of popcorn, then I'd advise prospective readers to pass this one by. Unfortunately, I found the writing style to be kind of bland. Little emotional resonance, image heavy prose. Erotic/"making out" prose passages about as titilating as a cold, moist tubesock. Characters are about as deep as those in a 50s monster picture. Plenty of repetitious "sound effect" descriptions when the monsters eat people. It comes across rather like a film treatment. Readers looking for notable writing should also give this novella a pass. The novella runs only about 130 pages, the remainder of the book is filled with short stories: "Mrs. Dmarco's Corpse" takes an intriguing concept, the titular body wakes long enough to grab a cop's ankle and proclaim "You will die soon" before slumping lifeless again, and follows a growing sense of disconnect in the protag -- Is he crazy? Is he truly witness to the supernatural? -- to a perhaps unsurprising end. "Kristina" takes to task the question of "Is there a difference between love and addiction"? A clever approach to internalized horror wherein a fellow falls in love with a woman who regularly shoots up (with unnamed "Medication", cue Garbage song here). Well, when her stores run low, Kristina asks out narrator to aid her in obtaining a gruesome "alternative", and the quandry becomes one of love versus guilt. This is the best piece in the book. "In a Fit of Jealous Rage" a man emerges from the titular emotional extreme only to discover he is responsible for a grisly crime. The story that follows tackles the backstory and the aftermath. "A Talk in the Street" Argument, more like. A married couple have a verbal throwdown in the street. This builds to a somewhat obvious twist. If the story's emotional threads were a bit more honest, I might have forgiven the unsurprising surprise. Alas, the story and I never quite achieved that union. Current Mood:  disappointed | | Wednesday, June 24th, 2009 | | 11:58 am |
Texas Pride
I have never seen a state so proud of its own shape . . . as Texas (and I come from the Mitten Shaped State originally). Here, I am inundated with the state shape. Texas shaped crackers. Texas shaped muffin tins. Texas shaped door mats. I've yet to see marital aids with that distinctive (and some might say owie-owie-owie) shape, but I would not be surprised if it existed. Heck, even the tofu we got has a Texas shape on the bottom. I kid you not:  As the tofu is a little hard to see, I took a close up and added some poorly done, emphasizing lines:  There you have it. Texas Tofu! Current Mood:  silly | | 11:20 am |
Two More for the Read Pile
37) Family Honor by Robert B. Parker (Putnam, 1999, 322 pages) A Boston based mystery novel premiering Parker's second PI series character Sunny Randall, Family Honor is a real page turner. Cute, spunky Sunny is hired by some Rich Folks to find their runaway daughter. Well, this being a mystery novel, Rich Folks have secrets, and the search for the missing girl turns up some nasty ones. Soon enough, the questions becomes Should I Return this Kid to these folks, and a quirky little story emerges as Sunny becomes something of a Mother figure to a troubled teen. A cast of quirky secondary characters makes for a fun read. Looking forward to following volumes. 38) Chimeric Machines by Lucy A. Snyder (Creative Guy Publishing, 2009, 90 pages) Sometimes dark, sometimes funny, always evocative, Snyder's poetry is a delightful read. Whether she takes the point of view of an anthropomorphic, eternally hungry Black Hole, examines the inner workings of the criminally minded inhabitants of a small town in Kentucky, or muses about the origins of the word "subtlety", Snyder offers some beautiful imagery and engaging style. While not every poem in this brief collection resonates with me, a majority of them do. Personal favorites? "Babel's Children," an infuriating reminiscence of the ceremonial dismantling of a dead horror author's legacy by his own bad-christian children, and the five poems of the Crete, Kentucky section, telling a larger story through the poetic inner monologues of a five member cast (in a similar vein to W.D. Snodgrass's Fuhrer Bunker). Heartily recommended. Current Mood: thoughtful | | Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009 | | 11:34 am |
Catching Up On My Reading
23) A Walk on The Nightside by Simon R. Green (Ace Books, 2006, 400 pages) I wanted to like this book. This compilation of the first three dark, urban fantasy novels in Green's Nightside series (set in a fantasy nexus point of sf/f/h) has a pretty nifty setting (a fusing of imaginings from the likes of Neil Gaiman, Clive Barker, and Mike Mignola), rife with possibility. However, I found the first person protagonist to be lacking any engaging qualities whatsoever, the secondary caricatures to be only mildly amusing, the stories to be all too familiar assemblages of dark fantasy/horror tropes, and each novel more frustrating than the last. Alas, I won't be returning to the Nightside anytime soon. 24) Dust by Elizabeth Bear (Spectra, 2007, 368 pages) I am a sucker for a stranded generation ship story. I've loved these sorts of "medeival societies in high tech surroundings" tales since I was a wee lad playing TSR's Metamorphosis Alpha (the generation ship set precursor to the post-apocalyptic roleplaying game Gamma World) and soaking in Robert Heinlein's Orphans of the Sky. I haven't read a novel in this vein in a good decade or so, so Bear's Dust was a fun return. It begins slow and takes time to build its characters, and by the end (a victory that is truly hard won) I was actually tearing up at the beauty of the resolution. 25) Endworld: Doomsday by David Robbins This books is quite stupid. And yet, it's a stupid amount of fun as well. A total beach read rollercoaster of a novel, wherein the problems in the middle east escalate. NUKES rain down on America, and only Kurt Carpenter (hmmm. Is this character inspired by the 70s collaborative team of Kurt Russel and John Carpenter? Do ducks deficate?) a forward thinking, superrich, filmmaker has a contingency plan: he has a bunker wherein a handpicked mini-population can survive. The first half of the book details several members making their way to the Mountain. the second half of the book deals with surviving the aftermath, battling rapist-skinhead-bad guy rejects from the as yet unfilmed fourth Mad Max movie. O. M. G. Thor makes something of an appearance (well, a mortal incarnation), wielding a hammer that shoots lightning. O. M. G. A page turner of the worst variety, and yet my juvenile love of PA fiction would not let me put it down. The upcoming Book 2 takes place much later and concerns the descendants of this society (The Family), so I remain uninterested in that. However, if there's more about this group of high adrenaline, macho wackos I might give it a read. Kurt Carpenter for Gawd's sake! AND THOR! O! M! G! 26) The Guns of Heaven by Pete Hamill (Hard Case Crime, 2006, 254 pages) A somber, lyrical reflection upon the legacy of oppression that drives a people. In this case, the people are the Irish, the oppressors are the Brits, and the topic at hand is the IRA. This novel is a reprint of a novel first published a quarter of a century ago, but the material remains an engrossing time capsule, with some echoes to the present. Of course, being a Hard Case Crime novel, the structure of the book is a thriller, but The Guns of Heaven is a nuanced and literate thriller, running the gamut of emotions, and creating very human, flawed, and moving characters. 27) Child of God by Cormac McCarthy (Vintage, 1993, 208 pages) Do not let the fact that this is found in the General Fiction section fool you. It is a horror story through and through. There is quite a bit of humor, sure, but at its heart this is a bleak view of the worst qualities of a human being. And yet, the worst character is also presented as rather sympathetic (to a degree). Lester Ballard is forced from his family home and ekes out a living from the wilds. Ballard's brooding anger ultimately builds into a wholly nasty kinks, and Lester soon tries to combat his loneliness with dead people. Amazon's review calls this "the most sympathetic portrayal of necrophilia in all of literature" and while I firmly believe that reviewer should perhaps read a bit more broadly, the book is damned effective in what it sets out to accomplish. Writers like Jack Ketchum and Richard Laymon strive to achieve this mix of loathesome and compelling material; McCarthy makes it look easy. 28) Hunt At the Well of Eternity by Gabriel Hunt (aka James Reasoner) (Leisure Books, 2009, 232 pages) Charles Ardai, the editor of Hard Case Crime, now ventures into a different side of pulp fiction by establishing the Gabriel Hunt line of pulp adventure novels. Each is penned by a different author under the Gabriel Hunt byline and pays clear homage to the Doc Savage stories of Kenneth Robeson (Lester Dent et. al.). In this, the first book of the series millionaire adventurer Gabriel Hunt meets danger and mystery in equal doses as an encounter with a beautiful woman in a museum turns into a deadly gunfight. With the woman captured (of course), our hero sets out on a trail begun during the final days of the American Civil War. His adventures take him from New York to Florida to Mexico to a lost city in South America, with more derring do, action and suspense than should be found in such a tiny page turner. Where the novel suffers is characters, but that's fine. The main characters have more than one dimension (though often less than three), and the plot is king. While my interest flagged for the final quarter (after the mystery was gone and the events spiralled in to their forseeable ends), I am still interested in future volumes (penned by the likes of Christa Faust, David J. Schow, and Nicholas Kaufmann). 29) The Last Match by David Dodge (Hard Case Crime, 2006, 319 pages) The author of To Catch a Thief (made into a light, delightful suspense picture by Alfred Hitchcock) channels the voice of Cary Grant in the debonaoir con man protagonist of this novel. The book is filled with cons, brimming with them. Too bad the story itself is a ponderous mishmash of events that never gel into something quite as engaging or endearing. The protag runs from exotic port to exotic port, fleeing his destiny until it smacks him in the face, then he surrenders to it and, well, the book sort of ends. Meh. Probably the worst Hard Case Crime novel I've read yet. 30) Grave Descend by John Lange (Hard Case Crime, 2006, 203 pages) A slender but meaty novel balancing intrigue and excitement in Jamaica. Hired to salvage a sunken ship (that has not sunk yet), tough guy James McGregor soon finds himself enmeshed in a complicated plot as something of a fall guy. Well, James won't simply sit down and take it. From a mystery to an action piece, Grave Descend is a light, fun read that builds to an unfortunately pat ending. Ah well, everything leading up is done just right. 31) DA by Connie Willis (Subterranean Press, 2007, 74 pages) The first book I took out from the Cody Public Library, here in San Antonio. A charming, often frustrating (as in I feel for the protag's frutstration), screwball comedy of a science fiction novella. In some ways, this pays clear homage to the juveniles of Heinlein (a young, smart protagonist remains set in her ways when told she must behave in a socially acceptable fashion). In this case, she is granted the honor of being inducted as an IASA space cadet, though she has zero interest in going into space and never actually applied; but it's an honor to be a part of the group! Yeah, an honor she does not want. Well, just when the story gets good, the book ends. Nuts. I want more! The Subterranean Press edition includes absolutely WONDERFUL images from J.K. Potter. 32) The Peddler by Richard S. Prather (Hard Case Crime, 2006, pages) Reprint of a crime novel from 1952, this book recounts the classic gangster rise and fall of Jimmy, as he pursues a career in crime centered around prostitutes. From hustler to pimp to house lord and further, Jimmy is a turd of a guy who makes more enemies than he knows what to do with. However, he's got the luck of the devil, though this does not help him by novel's end. A nice little page turner with some tough talk dialogue and a sleazy quality throughout. 33) You've Been Warned by James Patterson and Howard Roughan (Vision Books, 2008, 400 pages) AAAAARRRRGGGG! Thank goodness for public libraries. This was the second book I took out from the Cody, after starting it in the local Borders. Back to the capsule review. AAAAARRRRRGGGG! My Twitter review says everything: " You've Been Warned is a 7-page EC comic written by someone suffering logorrhea & ADD." What it doesn't say is the characters are flat and the plot is a retread of a retelling of a "surprise" story that absolutely lacks surprises. Photographer/Nanny protagonist is having an affair with a married man. Strange stuff starts to happen to her, flashes from the future (or is it the past?) and weird music, and a sense of impending doooooom. I saw the surprise coming early on and kept reading to see if the authors might not be setting me up for The! Ultimate! Twist! Evar! They were not. One of the most familiar tropes used exactly as expected. Don't waste your time with this book. You've been warned. 34) All the Lies that Are My Life by Harlan Ellison (Underwood Miller, 1989, 130 pages) While unpacking in the new apartment, I came across this olde slipcase edition that I had never actually read. Well, I thought, I could sit down for a few minutes and give it a go. Of course, once begun I did not stop until the piece was over, until I was emotinally blugeoned, and looking at the rest of my Ellison stack, wondering what I might try next . . . Alas, Library Books call first. When successful novelist Kercher Oliver James Crowstairs dies, he is remembered by his one true friend Larry Bedloe. For my money, Ellison's best works are his novella length pieces (eg. "The Resurgence of Miss Ankle-Strap Wedgie") whether or not they include fantastical elements. Here we have a confession story, as Ellison ponders postmortem legacy, friendship, an all too real "revenge from beyond the grave" and some very human questions about how well a person can know another. What we know of Kercher reveals parallels to Ellison himself. Then again, what we know of Larry parallels Ellison himself too (as strained, perhaps, through imitation of Robert Silverberg). Is this self indulgent? Perhaps, but I really don't care. What it is is a warts and all view of an author, whose life has been reduced to a novella length high- and lowlights reel. Touching, thoughful, and moving. I am and always will be a fan of Ellison's writing. When he is on, few can touch his work. I only wish he would write more these days. Yeah yeah. If wishes were fishes, right? 35) Zombie by Joyce Carol Oates (Dutton, 1995, 192 pages) This is the third book I borrowed from the Cody Public Library. Grim, nasty, and oddly funny. This is not some zombpocalypse novel, but a very dark view into a psychopath's head. Q____ P____ (aka Quentin) longs, you see, to have a boy love him. Actually, he longs to have a boy who will love him forever, call him master, and beg to have his bum ravaged until blue guts spill. Quentin longs to have a zombie, and in this book he sets out to make one by kidnapping young, lovely boys and performing lobotomies upon them. Of course, the fact that Quentin has no experience performing such procedures makes for a lot of . . . failures. And yet, the book has a funny side too. If Kurt Vonnegut had penned American Psycho, it might have turned out like this (complete with little hand illustrations, too). 36) Crown of Slaves by David Weber and Eric Flint (Baen, 2003, 505 pages) T has a copy of this, but we loaned it out. Thus, the copy I read was taken from the Cody Public Library. First in a new series set in the Honorverse (the universe of series character Honor Harrington, star of On Basilisk Station, one of my favorite sf novels in the last 20 years), though there has not been a sequel. Reading it, I can see why. It's a very philosophical, talky book tackling the topic of slavery. Slavery, it says, is bad. Well no shit. Anyway. The book itself is somewhat long (rather bloated, actually), and filled with a cast of character who range from "WOAH, INTERESTING!" to "Hmmm, I want to know more" to "WHY IS THIS CHARACTER HERE? Ooooh, in case a new society needs to start up. How. Fortunate!" hntrpyanfar loves this book, and I can see why. There's an exciting 250 page story in here. Alas, it is spread across 500 pages, but when it's on, it's a treat. And then it stops for a bit so the authors can intrude with Big Ideas. Then it starts, again. Good guys succeed, bad guys buy it, and the stage is set for more books along the line. First novels (in series) are often mired in worldbuilding, alas, and while some of it was interesting (finally, a sympathetic view of the People's Republic of Haven!) some of it was . . . well, not (Yes, I know. Slavers are the new Nazis. I got that, already. Can we move along? Please?). :) Current Mood: thoughtful | | Monday, June 22nd, 2009 | | 9:30 am |
| | 8:33 am |
Reflections on Texas: The Gaming Life
We actually live close to a gaming store/comic book shop, Dragon's Lair. Of course, the branch up in Austin has the kewl RPG designer signings and such (?), but San Antonio's shop is pretty swell. We've been visiting regularly: Monday nights are Dungeon Delve nights (Dungeons and Dragons 4E, of course) and the place hosts official RPGA 4E games too (more 4E, this time personalized characters set in the Living Forgotten Realms campaign world; I play a tough as nails Human Ranger, former slave/gladiator to the illithyds, essentially eeevil Lovecraftian Cthulhu people with hoopty mind powers and a penchant for diabolical nastiness). We've met our fair number of pretty kewl people (our age as well as younguns; "You were born when?!? 1992?!?") as well as a handful of the worst living stereotypes of gamer culture (you're probably familiar with the socially inept, hygienically challenged type of goober who fits the "can't escape a parent's basement" type who make the rest of us look bad). Well, I'm getting a wee bit weary of DnD 4E: The Combat Machine. Alas, with one shots (delves) and 4-5 hour games (the RPGA stuff), this is the easiest thing to put together for players. However, this is not all there is to RPing (in fact, combat is one of the things I am least interested in). Ah well. This motivates me to try and put together Something Else. If only I had more time for it. :) Although . . . That said, I'm still keen on the April Fool's Day encounter of DnD characters vs. The Kool-Aid Man (OOOH, Yeah!), Jiggly Puff, and the deadly swarm of Smurfs. :) Current Mood:  amused | | Friday, June 19th, 2009 | | 1:36 pm |
My Reflections on Life in Texas (Part 2)
The morning after arrival, we stopped off at the Stratford (nice name!) to actually see the townhouse we were supposed to be renting. We had seen a different apartment while here, and decided to move on up to a larger place (to try and fit all our stuff). Well, we walked the place, and it had the lingering stink of cigarette smoke (something that bothers hntrpyanfar a lot more than it does me, since I grew up in a household of smokers). The walls had been painted, the place looked nice for a cursory glance. Kind of like the backseat of Jules and Vincent Vega's car after The Wolf had them mop up the blood and brains and lay out quilts and blankets. Alas, I was John Q. Law and poked through the cabinets, noting the tiny ugliness. A little in abundance is a lot. If our last apartment was The Deep End, this townhouse is The Dump End. It's a liveable dump, for sure. Not some place I want to stay terribly long at. Which is good, all told. Since we're wanting to move on up. This townhouse is about the same size as the last apartment, though quite a bit of the space (about a third bedroom's worth) is actually taken up by bathrooms number 2 and 1/2. Thus, less storage space. We have effectively one bedroom, one stuffed to the gills storage room, a living room, dining area, and kitchen. With a total of five sinks. Swine flu be damned! San Antonio itself is a nice spot. We have spent quite a bit of money while here, purchasing new mattress and box spring as well as a candy apple red, front loading washing machine. "Cherry Lips (Go Baby Go)" we call it, after the Garbage song. It's quiet while running, it does not use a lot of water, and it sings when its done with a load. I love this washing machine. Though not in the way that dare not speak its name.  Posting pics of a washing machine. I suppose this means I am now officially a weirdo. (Any weirdness before was apparently unofficial.) The Cody Branch of the Public Library service (our closest library) is about a third of the size of the Worcester Public Library, and yet it has three times the better selection. Even has quite a few Subterranean Press copies in its modest sf section. Of the adult fiction side, the mystery section is the largest (nice!) seconded by the mainstream fiction (which includes "mainstream" mystery/thriller writers, go figure), and their interlibrary loan policy is pretty spiffy (a couple of reserves have actually arrived, my email tells me). It's nice to have a quality library around. And this one has a delightful sense of humor, with faux horror movie posters set in the library itself and kewl T-shirts. Compared the libre wasteland that was WPL, Cody is the Greatest Library Evar! Been reading quite a bit while here. Writing too. We now have cable, and when the TV is on for something other than DVDs (seldomly, actually) it is on TCM. When the TV actually arrived on the 10th of June, the first movie I discovered playing was The Lady Eve. I take that to be a good sign! We might keep cable. Or we might not. | | Thursday, June 18th, 2009 | | 10:30 am |
My Reflections On Life In Texas (part 1)
Might as well back up a bit. Pardon me while I indulge my inner Wordsworth and recollect events passed. The trip down went surprisingly well. Five days total, thanks to stopping off to see friends. ( Read more... )Loooong days, but T and I did not kill each other.  This was thanks to mix CDs (Buck 65's Wicked and Weird is a damned catchy number) and an I-Trip knockoff. What followed was arrival at The Dump End, the arrivial of "Cherry Lips (Go Baby Go)", and a visit to The Greatest Library Evar (okay, maybe not) . . . (to be continued in Part 2) Current Mood: thoughtful | | Thursday, June 11th, 2009 | | 11:20 am |
| | Friday, June 5th, 2009 | | 7:21 pm |
Happy birthday!
to ladyscience! Hope your trip back to Worcester is an aboo faboo one! This marks the first real year I won't be able to embarrass you with my singing. Ah well. I suppose I'll have to try through cheesy type: Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy biiiirrrrthdaaaaaay deeeeear Kittttttttiiiiie! Happy birthday to you! | | 4:30 pm |
| | Sunday, May 31st, 2009 | | 11:08 pm |
Messages from The Road (Not Cormac McCarthy's)
. . . we ended up leaving far later than intended . . . this bodes not well for the Texas expedition, though our apartment is nice and clean . . . Day One on the road found we explorers traveling from Massachusetts to Connecticut to New York State to Pennsylvania . . . Stopped outside Scranton, PA. Drank two bottles of wine with Moses (47 Pound Chicken Shiraz, and a Shiraz called the Funky Llama -- alcohol content on this last was quite high!), and slept on his cool couch bed . . . not a simple pull out, but a pop up style. Neato! Must remember to send ddrpolaris info about this, it's so totally his style . . . Day Two: Saw the new Medical School in Scranton. Given the inside tour by Moses, who is now a full fledged tenure track Professor . . . When in Scranton, I recommend "Gimme Coffee!" for your caffeinated beverage needs . . . Got going across the state, and stopped in Pittsburgh suburbs. mattieflap and her family have a lovely home . . . Caught up a bit (though it feels like we were here last month, instead of a few years ago) and shared a bottle of Wallaby Shiraz (Yellow Tail Reserve) . . . am now settling in for a good night's sleep . . . tomorrow, we venture to Columbus, OH to see las and haceldama . . . Tuesday we continue on to San Antonio . . . cathartist's mix CDs have provided plenty of delightful musical accompaniment to our journey . . . as well as a couple of "WTF?!?" moments . . . More soon . . . Current Mood:  sleepy, sad, excited | | Thursday, May 28th, 2009 | | 10:23 am |
One Day Until Move
Sounds kind of ominous, doesn't it? Like it should be followed with some suspenseful stinger music: Bum BUM BAAAAAH! Today is the last scramble to get things ready for the Real Movers who arrive tomorrow. Then, cleaning, closing, and crashing (thanks nightskyre and anitra for the crash space). After that, San Antonio here we come (with plenty of stops along the way)! Current Mood:  nervous | | Wednesday, May 27th, 2009 | | 3:35 pm |
"What are you people? Rock collectors?"
Yesterday was a lot more work than I originally planned . . . For the San Antonio trip, we decided to spread our possessions between two moving units (special thanks go out to expoeticsoul who stopped by and helped us load the cargo van for trip #2). We would pack up the books and DVDs and comics and such and put them in Relocubes (essentially, these are boxes you can fill and then store or have the company move or have-the-company-move-AND-store) and let Real Movers come for the furniture. Pain in the butt splitting things, but it actually saved on the estimated $7000 cost to have Real Movers take everything, and we did not want to have to move everything ourselves. Around 8:15-ish, after loading two cubes (not even to full 8' height capacity of its 6'x7'x8' dimensions), we had the ABF U-Pack people pull a forklift over to test the weight(it turns out each 'cube has a weight limit of 2500 pounds). I have never seen a forklift rock quite that hard. The rear wheels came off the ground. Oh, the front end of the cube lifted, but the back stayed happily on the concrete. This happened again, in the cube I considered the "heavier" of the two. "Between the two cubes," manager-guy Rich informed us, "you're looking at over 10,000 pounds." Way too heavy. I admit, a Puckish part of me hoped to see the Relocube lift the forklift. Ah well. What were our options? Get some more cubes, maybe. It was doompuppy who recommended skipping the cubes altogether and going straight for a trailer (using the same shipping people). A frantic phone call later, we arranged for a trailer. We tell manager-guy Rich this at 8:30. "The trailer won't be ready for an hour," Rich informed us, "and we leave promptly at 11:00." Leaving us only an hour and a half to transfer our stuff. Instead of waiting until the next morning, we decided to give it a go that very night. We had a dinner, some great conversation (that perhaps lasted a little too long), and then got back to the site. Time of return: approximately 9:50. The truck was waiting, and there was just enough light not to trip over ourselves. I have never unpacked and repacked quite so quickly. While we were en medias relocating, the forklift driver found us and asked: "What are you people? Rock collectors?" "Nope. Book collectors." When manager-guy Rich came out to tell us everyone was going home, we were just about done. When we finished up and collapsed in the car, my clock said 11:02 pm. The three of us ( hntrpyanfar, doompuppy, and I) had moved over 10,000 pounds of books, comics, RPGs, and other assorted stuff in just about 70 minutes. Today, of course, my body demands to know just what the hell I was thinking. In lieu of reply, I feed it ibuprofen. Current Mood: sore but amazed | | Friday, May 15th, 2009 | | 10:58 am |
FREE! To Good Home, Bad Home, Indifferent Home, ANY Home . . .
Ah, moving. Some see it as a gateway to new experiences. I see it first, as a means of properly assessing exactly how much stuff we own but never actually use. This list will undoubtedly spill into several posts as hntrpyanfar and I find more quality moichendise to pass on . . . Interested in anything? Drop me a line. "We cheat the other guy and pass the savings on to you!" 2 Window Air Conditioners -- one a beeeg clunker (A piece of functional 80s! nostalgia, though it is missing the side foils, alas); the second is smaller and with all parts 3 Window Fans -- Dual fans jobbies 1 Cast Iron, 2.25 Quart Tea Kettle A Hanging Basket -- you know, for plants A Stereo Cabinet -- glass front, on wheels A Radio/turntable -- it works, but I don't use it anymore A portable radio/boombox -- plug it in for home use or slap in a bunch of batteries to make it perfect for a trip to the Drive In (this model is too small to compete with Radio Raheem's megabox). It might even have batteries in it! 1 breadmaker Current Mood: amusedCurrent Music: Korn's Greatest Hits vol. 1 | | Tuesday, May 5th, 2009 | | 10:14 am |
My First Impulse Was to Shout "WHY WHY WHY WHY WHYYYY?"
In the "Not Really Earthshaking News, but Still Makes Dan Grumpy" department, one of my favorite science fiction terror films may be getting a face lift: Universal Studios to remake Videodrome. It probably won't happen. In Hollywood, projects come and go about as fast as Columbian Coca Cola employees. For this, I am somewhat gladdened. I mean, remake Videodrome? Why? Then, of course, my head starts to wonder about what changes might be made. Remakes are not in and of themselves a horrible idea (I look to Carpenter's The Thing, and I look to David Cronenberg's The Fly), however one cannot deny the fact that more often than not they turn out to be lackluster efforts. Will Videodrome fall prey to the slew of less than interesting remake films? I'd say the chance is likely. What, some might be wondering, is Videodrome? Why it's a film "From The 1980s!" (1983 to be specific) wherein Max Renn -- co-owner of a small, UHF television station, which caters to hardcore violence and softcore sex, in order to compete with big networks -- stumbles upon an underground show. Something called Videodrome. The show (witnessed only brief snippets in grainy, pirated images) apparently has no plot, no characters, only masked figures in blue uniforms and butcher's aprons binding, torturing, and eventually murdering unidentified persons. Is it real, is it fake? And would anyone like to watch it? Well, as Max soon discovers, the thing is indubitably compelling to watch, and for good reason (which I shall not spoil). The movie soon finds itself oriented around Max's growing obsession around this show, as well as its deleterious effects upon Max's mind and body (as well as those around him).
Max Renn: Do you know a show called 'Videodrome'?
Masha: Video what?
Max Renn: Videodrome. Like video circus, video arena. Do you know it?
Masha: No.
Max Renn: It's just torture and murder. No plot, no characters. Very, very realistic. I think it's what's next.
Masha: Then God help us. This film turns out to be rather prescient, "predicting" (to a degree) the toture-centered films that have inundated horror cinema of late. However, the movie is not content to simply be an exercise in gratuity. It is a thoughtful and disturbing philosophical extrapolation upon Marshall McLuhan-esque media theory ideas. Not bad for a "sci-fi horror flick," huh? For me, Videodrome is an exceptional film, filled with beautiful-yet-grotesque images (including tumorous video cassettes, painful cyberpunk-ish man/machine transmogrification, and an off-the-wall oral encounter with a television screen), plenty of head trippery, and a delightfully creepy score from longtime Cronenberg collaborator Howard Shore (best known these days for his Lord of the Rings scores, I suppose). On the tech-development side note, I believe Videodrome was also the first film to pioneer flicker-eliminating tech, allowing filmmakers to actually shoot images played on television screens as opposed to superimposing film images on blank screens . . . Do we really need to update this? Might it be interesting? Early drafts of the script featured bizzaro scenes that were not shot, due to a lack of budget and tech. If a new version of the flick went back to draw in writer/director Cronenberg's early visions, that might be nifty. But the remake, is not involving Cronenberg at all (and he left this sort of terror cinema behind some twenty years ago). My thought stream has returned to "WHY WHY WHY WHY WHYYYY?" Harumph, says me. But I am cantankerous. Current Mood:  grouchyCurrent Music: Howard Shore's Videodrome Soundtrack |
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