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Showing posts from April, 2013

horse driving

Horses! For another collaborative project. * * * * * Read Drive by James Sallis this weekend. A novella. Reminded me of Jim Thompson's work , which I would call sociopathic noir. The main character, called only the Driver, comes in and out of focus, both empathetic and alienated from his own (depressing, violent) story. A story which is different from the movie, by the way. And perhaps not as good. Still, with an additional caution that the style sometimes trips where it should spin, I would recommend this to anyone who likes the dark, dark stuff.

the last legion

The Last Legion , starring Colin Firth and (wait for it) Ben Kingsley. Why was this movie made? Beats the fuck out of me. There is this strange pointlessness to it, where there are no real characters and barely passable dialogue and a story that only provokes a confused kind of shrug. It *might* have been re-purposed as a kid's movie, and then I can almost see it, just add a little more camp to what's already there, maybe a more English kind of  Princess Bride . But no. Instead you get this bland PG nonsense. Also, I hope this is the last time Colin Firth imagines himself an action star.

outside

It never fails to warm my heart when people come bounding into the office exclaiming things, Wow -- what a great day out there! or O -- it's too gorgeous out there to be in here , when all they've done is walk the fifty metres from their car. Yes, I'm sure it did look wonderful, the way the sun spread its glittering reflective rays across your windshield. Like looking at a star from a rocket ship. Or television. This -- along with everyone's faux mania about "getting outside", which they really only do under very controlled conditions, in a completely constructed way, usually under the auspices of a social or sporting activity -- is one of the things that makes me a little crazy-cocoa-puffs about summer. Every single morning I walk with my three year-old to daycare and then to work. If Google is to be believed, it is 3.6 kilometres. This time of year is difficult to dress for. Yesterday morning I was too warm. Today, with the sun glorious and floodin

some driftless areas

* * * * * The Driftless Area by Tom Drury. I like this book quite a lot. It's a strange kind of noir, where the main character acts like he's watching himself from a distance, and is charming in a self-aware but disconnected way. At the same time, this never feels shallow or contrived; events just trundle along, and you don't know where they'll go. This is not about deep character exploration and there's an element of the supernatural here so if you're one of those people who goes around stomping I ONLY LIKE TO READ THINGS THAT ARE REAL then this book is not for you. Also, please get away from me. * * * * * This VIA RAIL bomb plot is annoying, if only because now we have to hear idiotic questions like ARE OUR RAILWAYS SAFE? and DO WE NEED MORE RAILWAY SECURITY?, which automatically makes me wonder if they had targeted a bus (a lot easier), then would we be subjected to ARE OUR BUSES SAFE? and DO WE NEED MORE SECURITY ON BUSES? Short

prometheus

So we watched Prometheus last night. If you don't want it spoiled, then stop reading. . . . . . . . . . \/ Alright then. I was looking forward to seeing Prometheus ; I would count the original Alien as one of my ten favourite movies. And from the previews this *looked* really good – really sharp, really big and clamorous and electric. And it continued to look good, all the way through. But then there was the soundtrack, which sounded like Lord of the Rings Unleashed , and would not shut up, and let me think about anything. Which might have been intentional, as a means of distracting me from the way that the plot went sideways at about the two-thirds mark, when all sorts of strings started to drop all over the place. And then it turned that corner, that bad corner that a lot of movies turn these days, where it seems to end about four or five times, until we can't stand it. Too bad. If you want something better, or a few things that more a

the empty workshop

If only Jeff Koons could draw this well. * * * * * Every so often I am surprised when perhaps I have no right to be. Like when I was confronted with the Jeff Koons illustration in this last weekend's New York Times Style Magazine , to accompany a poem by Matthea Harvey. I had to look twice. So often we are unsure of ourselves in the face of accepted authority. Still, there it was, the evidence provided by full-colour off-set printing: Jeff Koons cannot draw. Or, more accurately: Jeff Koons draws like a kid in high school. With a nagging brain injury. Jesus. Has he ever been able to draw or paint? The rest of his work is all pop art sculptures or kitsch porn. Huh. I mean, I know drawing is not his métier. It's not what he trades in. But he's still an artist. If someone asks him to draw a kitty kat on the blackboard, he should be able to achieve a reasonable facsimile or icon. Or not. But I guess The New York Times Style Magazine wanted a drawi

how should a person be what we talk about when we talk about being?

There are days when I desperately want to accomplish something. Don't you feel it? That sense of persistence to your time? Of needing to follow through?  I guess the best way to describe it would be the impulse to say, There – here I am . Everyone wants to thought useful, especially by themselves  (or at least noted, in and of the world, as if life had some kind of accounting). Or perhaps not. Some people would like it both ways – sparkly and celebrated but still authentically blackened and gutterized. I made this thing and it is significant and worthy of treasure (or at least question marks)  but full-page photos in the New Yorker are meaningless to me because my many friends are filthy magic and all the rest is shit.  To pull this off properly you need an instinct for back-alley photography (or an Instagram account, or the ability to write in a circular manner about self-abasement), bone-poking thinness, a good scowl and some very straight bangs. Apparently, the future o

limited

We watched (well, I watched; C snoozed )  The Sunset Limited  last night. With Tommy Lee Jones and Samuel L. Jackson. Have you ever seen  Weekend at Bernie's ? What about  Weekend at Bernie's II ? Well, this movie was nothing like either of those. It was more like Bambi as reimagined by Lars von Trier. NOT A PICKMEUP. But Cormac McCarthy's language is so beautiful that it doesn't matter.  * * * * * I've been drawing for lunch lately,  wherein I draw instead of eat.

weather eventing

Weather is exhausting, isn't it? Today's promised "weather event" was a white-knuckle freezing-rain warning, with lots of panic rays bouncing around, a day of threats and cancellations, but in the end it was ice chips in the fields and a few slippery spots on wood or metal and otherwise just big squalling rain coming at you angry-ways. WHO ARE YOU TO RESIST PLASTIC PANTS? Oona wanted to know how rain gutters worked, and then complained when she splashed herself jumping in puddles. If the temperature sticks or goes warmer, everything should be fine.

art workings

why planets crash into the sun ; pencil, acrylic and inks on masonite; 9 x 7 inches. * * * * * march of the goofballs; pencil crayon on paper, 9 x 7 inches.

and now for some quick reviews

don't believe the historical record ; inks on paper (page torn from an English text book). * * * * * How Stuff Works should really be called How Stuff Works When Two Guys Talk Shit . For a podcast that's supposed to be informative and entertaining, it's more about illuminating just how dangerous a little knowledge can be, as in: Hey, I just read this article about Anne Frank, and now I'm going to tell you all about Anne Frank, while any kind of context -- my knowledge about the Netherlands, the Second World War, the Holocaust, and even the specific self-narrative of diaries -- is superficial at best . MUST MISS. The Thing (2011) . This is not a remake; it's a prequel. Specifically, it's about what happened to the Norwegians who dug the alien out of the ice in the first place. It's also about what happens when you have a solid supporting cast and a really weak lead. Also, the ending is a mess. MUST MISS. How Was Your Week : Julie Kra

over and over again

over over over, over and over again ; sepia inks on paper (page torn from foreign language math text); 6 x 9 inches.

LAKE EFFECT 6

Tonight is the launch for LAKE EFFECT 6, an annual anthology of writing from the senior creative writing class at Queen's, this year published by UpStart Press . One of my better (read: more enjoyable) design jobs, and it turned out looking fine, with a good kind of boldness and plenty of colour in play, and C took the ball and carried it all the way to the end, as she always does, which is not nearly as easy as she makes it look, and Carolyn Smart was relaxed and practical and great to work for. TONIGHT. 7 PM. The Renaissance, 285 Queen Street. THERE WILL BE SNACKS. SNACKS.

the weekend of the six emperors

Easter Weekend . Did the spirit find you? Us, neither. So we went out looking for it. Friday  Driving driving driving, then the ferry over to Prince Edward County and Picton in particular. LUNCH. Walk around and gape at things. The day is warm and spring-like. As a corrective, Oona talks all the time now. Is there an Olympics for talking? Because I have a miniature gold medalist on my hands. WANT TO TALK TO ME, DADDY? Saturday   Lemoine Pointe. It's muddy, and alternately too hot or too cold, and Oona has (not-so-secretly) refilled her prescription of GOOFBALLS. I keep threatening to throw her into the lake or leave her in the forest but she's starting to not believe me. Sunday Easter Sunday! Our little trip today is out to Jones Falls locks. A wee walkabout, and then home. Easy peasy. Let's go down Battersea Road , C says. It's up and down and very wind-y, so a bit slow. But that's okay, because as soon as it straightens out, the car&#