Category: culture

sergio leone

Posted on by admin

I’ll be honest, I’m kind of obsessed; his ability to create a mood simply by creating a static shot with a small bit of movement is unreal. The cinematography in his movies was never without purpose.

He once said “the myth is everything” and when it comes to creating a piece of art, I think he’s touched on something that transcends the idea of merely being creative or tapping emotions or cool concepts.

It’s EVERYTHING.

(Hell, it’s technically the entire reason for the MAGA movement, given that they’ve created a whole alternate reality where everything that promotes compassion, freedom or you know, intelligence is considered evil, a web of conspiracy thinking that has no actual basis in reality – except often as applied to the Trump grifters running the joint. See Gaetz, Matt. Where’s a man with no name when you need him?)

Anyway, huge fan of Leone, and at this point, praying he doesn’t turn out to be problematic, like every other artist I’ve idolized over the years and who continue to prove my point:

There is no correlation between skill and the relative morality of its wielder.

Target: 100 words
Written: 405 words, comic: Western Cradle #1

Read: The Vegetarian Myth, Lierre Keith
Comics: Chew 49-52
Music: No1 Record, Big Star

i get it; i’m late

Posted on by admin

For all the things I wanted to do with my life, I probably would have had to have started as a teenager.

Unfortunately, the lessons I needed to learn, the skills I had to grow (and am still growing), the mindset, the life experience, all that stuff… it unfolded a little slower than it probably should have.

Maybe I could have gone a more traditional route, and maybe I could have been content with that, but when have I ever been content with anything? In the moment, I can be, in the midst of a good meal or a great book or great sex, a nice moment in the sun while walking the dogs.

But isn’t that the only time ever?

I know it will take me probably until I’m a hundred and no longer able to function physically or mentally to do the work that I want to do, to see the places I wanted to see, to have all the experiences I’ve desired.

I probably won’t make it, barring terrific medical advances. Of course, I could live that long but the growing spectre of fascism, the threat of climate change, bigotry and hatred, the complete breakdown of both civility and the willingness to stand up for what is right, in action more than words, is likely to end this planet (or at least my life or the ability to do the things I desire to do), all that pretty well guarantees that this is a fool’s errand.

But what’s the alternative?

Giving up?

I know I’m a late bloomer, but hell. Fuck it.

There’s no do-overs, so it’s now or never, and if I die in the attempt, without making the impact I would have liked, well, there’s no shame in trying.

Only in giving up.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1479 words, short story: Late Riser

Read: The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho (also, this has nothing to do with this book, it was garbage, like Eckhart Tolle fucked Hans Christian Andersen and their baby read The Secret on the way out - stuff like this is why people get stuck in their own heads thinking they just have think things into existence, or that all skill is just natural, instead doing the fucking work.)
Comics: Chew 42-44, Chew: Warrior Chicken Poyo (POYO!) 1
Music: No!, They Might Be Giants

the pushpull

Posted on by admin

It tears at me. This urge to drive myself forward, to drive myself into something better, while simultaneously fighting not to give in to all the shit people of the world (and there are many).

It’s the dream of free people everywhere; it’s the slavering desire of every monster to put a stop to it.

It’s those close to us who behave in ways that benefit only themselves; who’d screw over their own blood for their own sick self-interest; who are so lost in their own little world that they fail to see that other people are not simply NPCs in the game of their lives, to be slaughtered or ignored as needed (or at a whim).

My biggest concern is that I’m one of them; my biggest fear is that I’m not serving myself by consistently taking myself out of the equation.

I know I need to help more. I know I barely have enough energy to hold my insides in. It’s a virtual certainty that if I stop holding it together, my body will burst and disintegrate, spilling my entrails to the floor.

Is it too much to ask for wings to emerge from the viscera?

I don’t believe in God or heaven, in no small part because it sounds fucking tedious and hypocritical, but I’d like to think peace is the end result, rather than an eternity of regret.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 432 words, poem: Feathers Falling

Read: Constellation Games, Leonard Richardson
Comics: Chew 20-23
Music: No Security, The Rolling Stones

better already

Posted on by admin

Man, sometimes, you just have to suck it up and take your medicine (if you can afford the medicine, which is a whole other issue, and thank goodness, I live in Canada, at least until Poilevre gets in, which he looks increasingly likely to do, the slimy, deceitful fuck).

Sofi’s better already. Two doses of antibiotic and some probiotic and she’s already pooped, slept through the night and seems so much more content.

Poor baby.

I wish she didn’t have to go through that. Would that no one would, but I suppose it shapes character.

Still, that’s kind of bullshit. We can learn through happiness as much as we can through sorrow.

We just don’t.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1872 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Words For Pictures, Brian Michael Bendis
Comics; The Boys 17-20
Music: New York City Groove, Various Artists (but mostly for the Tom Waits)

100 bullets

Posted on by admin

Why isn’t this a show on HBO yet?

Other than maybe Y: The Last Man, I’ve never read anything that doesn’t so perfectly beg to be made into something onscreen.

Of course, they fucked up Y: The Last Man apparently, because it was cancelled after one season, but hey, gender identity politics do kind of make that a tough sell in the current climate. Dichotomy was sort of the thing before; spectrum doesn’t really play to the story as well.

But still.

100 Bullets.

Are you fucking kidding me?

GET IT DONE.

Target: 900 words
Written: 983 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Hepatitis Bathtub And Other Stories, NOFX
Comics: 100 Bullets 97-100
Music: A New Kind Of Army, Anti-Flag

lost in space

Posted on by admin

I’m back to it – the non-Molly Parker, plus-Marta Kristen version, in which I don’t understand the infatuation with the latter.

I mean, she’s beautiful and all, but she’s window dressing most of the time in the show, like her mother. Nice to look at, but ultimately, boring.

In the Netflix version, Judy and Maureen were anything but (and I would be lying if I didn’t have an unnatural attraction to Molly Parker’s Maureen). Strong women are wonderful.

Flirty and light can be fun, but when the chips are down, I prefer a woman who engages, not one who demures.

Long term, superficial is unsustainable. But the depths of a strong woman?

They can feel so big, you get lost in them.

(In a good way, an endless exploration way, not a strong woman subsumes a weak man, though certainly, in any gender context, strong personalities do have a tendency to swallow the meeker, and that’s something to explore as well, but not in this particular instance. Men who wish their women are weaker are, well, sad and pathetic).

Anyway, so be it. I am married to a strong woman, of that there is no doubt. I’ll be the John to her Maureen any day.

Target: 900 words
Written: 992 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Wishsong Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Once And Future 20-22, Die 20
Music: Nearly Lost You, Screaming Trees (Mark Lanegan, historically, so underrated)

the yankees are still a thing?

Posted on by admin

I didn’t think they were any good anymore. Like not terribly, but comfortably mediocre, like most teams.

I like baseball, but do people actually care anymore?

It requires a patience and attention that doesn’t really exist in our Instagram/Snapchat/TikTok world.

After all, why have a long-lasting memory when it can just disappear in twenty-four hours. I wonder if this generation’s instances of Alzheimer’s is going to spike because of the lack of long-term memory-making abilities.

Everything has to be a filter; nothing real, nothing dirty.

Unless they want to cancel you, then even the hint of an accusation can destroy a person’s entire world. That’s something I struggle with; where’s the line between believing victims and voiding one’s own ability to determine bullshit.

Because let’s face it, in this era, everyone can make themselves a victim in a heartbeat, by referencing feelings. I hear it all of the time, and while in many cases, there’s legitimacy, in a lot of cases, it’s herd mentality, jumping on a trend to abdicate one’s own responsibility in one’s own life.

Framing is everything, and I think it behooves us to be both harsh in the judgment of those who would exploit others and open-minded to the possibility that maybe not all accusations are legit (intentionally or otherwise – sometimes people just can’t see that their hurt or spite isn’t the whole picture).

Anyway, how we got to me treading the line on cancel culture from baseball, I don’t know. 

Target: 900 words
Written: 192 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Wishsong Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Once And Future 8-10, Die 12
Music: Natural History: The Very Best Of Talk Talk, Talk Talk (talktalktalktalktlkatlkatalktaltkaltkallfuck)

irritating radio hosts

Posted on by admin

We know a guy who runs the morning radio show on the local radio station. He sounds like a nice guy on the radio, sort of, but in reality, he’s kind of an idiot.

First, he’s a Doug Ford guy, so I think one must immediately call his intelligence and integrity into question (as one would anyone who supports these hard right wingers). Secondly, he continues to play the same dozen songs from the late Eighties to early Two Thousands (to the point where I’m fairly certain his life’s dream was to be in a boy band). When he’s not in, more modern music (on the contemporary pop station, surprise!) gets played.

He domineers his cohosts, to the point where when he’s not there, they have difficulty establishing themselves as a primary.

Personally, he’s never been anything but rude and dismissive to us, despite us being friends with his long time girlfriend (that he refused to marry or have kids with, despite that being kind of the whole thing with her). He’s definitely a bit sexist, and possibly, you know, one of those “not that there’s anything wrong with that” homophobes.

So, yeah, his voice annoys the fuck out of me.

See? It’s not only bad pop that irritates me.

Target: 900 words
Written: 848 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Gregor And The Curse Of The Warmbloods, Suzanne Collins
Comics: The Wicked + The Divine 32-33, The Wicked + The Divine: Christmas Annual 1, The Wicked + The Divine: 1923 1
Music: Us Against The Crown, State Radio

return from blue mountain

Posted on by admin

Sounds like a cheesy Eighties find yourself adventure or maybe even a horror movie, where the kind of geeky lost soul goes somewhere, has an adventure, realizes it was all bullshit, and then comes back to sweep the girl of his dreams off her feet.

You know, the girl he’s only ever really known in passing, and who, in reality, would never date this guy who comes out of nowhere with his newfound perspective on life, all based around love (love he has for her, but she’s never really thought about him; she’s too busy diddling over the football star).

He’d have had some partying fun, met a girl who was maybe manipulative, but who would have taken him through his first real sexual experiences, but then betrayed him unexpectedly, making him realize he didn’t actually want what he thought he wanted, and so, he comes down the mountain, proposes to the girl, who is (because this is all about him and not her) expected to swoon and drop everything to be with this brand new bodhisattva/reformed bad boy, because love, and we all jump onboard and presume happily ever after, but really, what do these people even know about each other?

There’s likely some gratuitous nudity, because in this world, women are objects, not people, so making lewd jokes at their expense and paying some struggling actress to doff her top (and probably threaten that she’ll never work again if she doesn’t, or promise that the big studios will come running, and other big stars did it, and also, other stuff, behind the scenes, you know how it works, wink wink nudge nudge), and we’re all just fine with it because we love sexual freedom (which we do), but we also love the exploitation of women as a secondary class, and if we can combine the two… Hollywood!

Anyway, we’re back from Collingwood, and let’s hope that movie never gets made.

It sounds positively horrid.

Target: 900 words
Written: 247 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Gregor And The Curse Of The Warmbloods
Comics: The Wicked + The Divine: 455 AD 1, The Wicked + The Divine 29-31
Music: Urban Hymns, The Verve (one of my all-time favourite albums... simply one of the best)

not-so-new beds

Posted on by admin

So, our new beds were a no show. I took the day off to completely dismantle and remove two beds, and the fuckers didn’t even have the courtesy to show the fuck up.

How the fuck does a company, where one of the absolutely key components is delivery, not have any kind of contingency plan if one of their movers calls in sick?

That’s bad fucking management right there, made worse by the asshole who called and said, “well, what do you want me to do about it?”, as though this were somehow our fault. What a fucking asshole.

Of course, we asked for some kind of compensation, for time taken off and aggravation. Her response: “It’s not my fault someone called in sick.”

Like… really? She offered to have the manager call back, but like a coward, he did not.

If we didn’t want to have to go back out mattress shopping again, I’d demand all my money back right now. That’s some poor goddamned management right there.

We were thinking of getting a new kitchen table and TV there, but fuck that shit now. Assholes.

Fuck the muthafuckin’ Brick. You wish there was some way to tell someone up higher, but their website doesn’t even allow for proper feedback, so you know this company doesn’t actually give a shit.

Man, I’m tired of exploitive, incompetent, uncaring assholes.

Target: 900 words
Written: 870 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Happiness Of Pursuit, Chris Guillebeau
Comics: Phonogram: The Immaterial Girl 4-6, The Wicked + The Divine 17
Music: Uprising, Muse