What's he on about now?

In case the articles, essays and opinions throughtout this site just weren't enough for you, here's my online diary (a.k.a. 'blog'). It's as close as you'll come to the inside of my head, so don't say I didn't warn you
(and remember, you can always e-mail me if you love or loathe anything you're about to read)...


   Saturday, August 04, 2007

   LA BELLE PROVINCE

I`ve been strolling the streets of Montreal, new and Old, this morning and it`s felt like slipping on an old favourite pair of shoes. Last time I was here was twice in 2000 -- a free weekend jaunt in November, courtesy of my friend Gord`s frequent flier miles (Tintin isn`t his favourite character for nothing) and just before that in the summer, when Bryce and I came here for Pride right before we broke up.

It was strange to walk through Old Montreal with hazy memories of that happier yet sadder time. I felt very wistful, especially since I was by myself. It was around noon and the rest of my gang had either eaten already or were still sleeping. Wild weekends like these play havoc with everyone`s schedules and I`ve already been told off for my lack of a mobile phone. This trip has been the first time in my life when I wished I`d had one.

Yesterday was a day of crazy culture shock, one extreme to another.
We woke up in a forest.
We biked down twisty forest paths and along the mighty St. Lawrence River.
We ate lunch in the bleachers of a park baseball diamond.
We arrived with great fanfare as we biked down the streets of downtown Montreal.
We danced and drunk beer at a drag bar as Montreal Pride revved into gear.
We met up with friends and stayed out as late as our exhausted bodies would let us.
It was a long, wild day.

The only downside was arriving at the UQAM residence that's hosting us. Imagine rooms like the driest of musty libraries, made hot enough to do bikram yoga in. The ceiling fans spin uselessly and there's no breeze through the window. The girl in the room next to me slept with her door propped wide open with a chair all night, the florescent light burning into her room. I wasn't prepared to try that but a rocky night of lying on top of the blankets in a puddle of my own sweat might make me a convert tonight! I'm not sure I'll survive another night of that.

But who knows? Maybe I won't have to go back. I've got friends from Toronto in town (I'm running off to meet Robert, for one, right now) and there's a club crawl planned as a stag party for Rob and Greg, getting married in three weeks. Can I muster the energy for all this? How could I not?

Labels: Canada, friends, health, holidays, introspective, sports, travel

Or is it the Queen's University campus library? I can't tell -- it all looks the same.

It's Day 3 of the Bike Rally and clearly the best one yet. We only did 52km this morning, a light day after the last two fairly grueling ones. After breakfast, the whole lot of us careened down a twisty road along the lake, with some utterly gorgeous scenery, and I'm pleased to say that I arrived at the Queen's campus in Kingston before 11am, just shy of two hours.

I've been thrilled with my progress on this thing. The first day was 117km and very hilly, especially right at the end when I had so little energy left. We arrived at the campground exhausted and setting up the tent became the most tiring part of the day! I'm concerned about my left knee -- it's been really hurting, a kind of dull arthritic ache. On Day 2, I eased up on my speed a bit and it seemed to help. I keep asking myself which it's going to be, boy: going faster or walking with a cane for the rest of my life? Then I go faster.

But there's great support here. A chiropractor named Michelle looked over my knee last night and says I'm merely straining the inner ligament on the inside of the kneecap. I should ice it in the evening and ease up on the speed on the hills. And tomorrow I plan to have a massage. It's weird to work so hard yet feel so pampered. They've been feeding us well -- the food is amazing considering that it's being mass-produced for over 300 people and the prep volunteers are working harder than the bike riders. It's like a massive film set, so much coordination.

Camping has been tricky. I am so not used to sleeping outside. Even with the gift of James A's spacious tent and firm air mattress, sleep has been rocky. Now that we've a bed for a night here at the university, I just had an afternoon nap and it's helped enormously! Also, the bugs. Taking down the tent this morning, it was covered in spiders. Daddy long legs, stuff like that. These days are doing wonders for my arachnophobia; now I just scoop them up with my hand and toss them to one side.

I do like the comraderie of the campground though: there are so many tents, it looks like a small frontier town, as if early Canada was settled by gays. "We claim this land for England...snap!" One guy said it looked like a refugee camp. I then called it the Gayza Strip and was roundly, rightfully booed. There's been some attempts at nighttime activities, like games of Twister and Bingo, but it seems that most of us are too tired by that point to take part.

At least at first. Some people get their second wind later at night and there was a little impromptu beach party last night 'round midnight. I'm feeling a bit sad about it, since last week's grueling two-day trip to Cannington left my body exhausted and my lips sunburned. The bottom one blistered and, while I'm healing up nice and quick, my scabby lip makes me feel like the Phantom of the Campground. All these lovely new people I'm meeting and I'm at my least attractive. Grrr. Oh well, looks like I'm saving it up for Montreal!

And I didn't bike hundreds of miles and plead for thousands of dollars so I could get laid in the woods (that would've been simply a perk) -- no, I did this for the cause and the biking. Yesterday was the longest day, 126km, and while I'd never try to pretend it was effortless (oh lord, it wasn't), I was thrilled with how steadily I clipped along. I'm not as fast as the 'Bike Nazis' but nowhere near slow either. I found a lovely fellow redhead named Brad who bikes at my Goldilocks pace so he and I and another couple of friends formed a little pack yesterday. We rode and talked all afternoon as the countryside whizzed by us. That was a much better day.

But now I've got to run -- we're going for dinner at Chez Piggy, which I'm told is wonderful and hey, it's my birthday! Being in Kingston far from my friends is not exactly how I'd prefer to spend it but we seem set to have some parties in the dorms tonight and I've been flooded with wonderful birthday greetings from friends using Facebook. Thanks to everyone! I haven't felt this alive in quite some time but I'm already missing my loved ones and yes, even that nutty little dog. More chatter to come on Friday, I imagine -- till then, Chez Piggy's got a margarita with my name on it...

Labels: friends, health, holidays, introspective, sports, travel

Three days away and I've barely started my Christmas shopping -- oh, the stress! I've been obviously quiet on the blogging front these past few weeks as most of my energy has been going into the magazine. But it's been fantastic. The new issue features a lengthy piece on gay activists in Iran and a little wrap-up on this year's 'outing' spree in the press. Meanwhile, I had a lovely series of interviews with New York-based photographer Joe Oppedisano. He was surprisingly open and friendly, just a incredibly-cool guy, and I can't wait for the piece to be printed.

Yes, after a tumultuous year (I changed jobs twice!), I've had a great autumn, full of friends, writing, my little dog and watching America start to wake up from its six-year nightmare. Life feels a little better for me and hopefully all of you, your friends, your family.

In A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens wrote:
"It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour."

With that in mind, happy holidays from me and the gang at -- oh dear -- Star Wars:



I could only make it about three minutes in -- it's a brilliant car wreck! Have a wonderful holiday and I'll check back in before the New Year...

Labels: fab, holidays, homo-a-go-go, Middle East, writing

Where did you find that? I can't believe I made it through the whole video!

-- Reply posted by  carguyto at January 03, 2007

 

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...I leave you with one of my favourite holiday pieces:

A Holiday Wish
written by Steve Martin,
performed on Saturday Night Live (1991):

If I had one wish that I could wish this holiday season, it would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing together in the spirit of harmony and peace.

If I had two wishes I could make this holiday season, the first would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing in the spirit of harmony and peace, and the second would be for 30 million dollars a month to be given to me, tax-free, in a Swiss bank account.

You know, if I had three wishes I could make this holiday season, the first -- of course -- would be for all the children of the world to get together and sing, the second would be for the 30 million dollars every month to me, and the third would be for all-encompassing power over every living being in the entire universe.

And if I had four wishes that I could make this holiday season, the first would be the crap about the kids, definitely, the second would be for the 30 million, the third would be for all the power, and the fourth would be to set aside one month each year to have an extended 31-day orgasm, to be brought out slowly by Rosanna Arquette and that model Paulina...somebody...I can't think of her name. Of course my lovely wife can come too and she's behind me one hundred percent here, I guarantee it.

Wait a minute, maybe the sex thing should be the first wish, so if I made that the first wish, because it could all go boom tomorrow, then what do you got, y'know? No, no, the kids, the kids singing would be great, that would be nice. But wait a minute, who am I kidding? They're not going to be able to get all those kids together. I mean, the logistics of the thing is impossible, more trouble than it's worth!

So -- we reorganize! Here we go. First, the sex thing. We go with that. Second, the money. No, we go with the power second, then the money. And then the kids. Oh wait, oh jeez, I forgot about revenge against my enemies! Okay, I need revenge against all my enemies, they should die like pigs in hell! That would be my fourth wish. And, of course, my fifth wish would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing together in the spirit of harmony and peace.

Thank you everybody and Merry Christmas.

Labels: holidays

...please reconsider going to Wal-Mart. I know money's tight and, with so many gifts to buy, you need the best deal you can get but please don't. There's a solid summary of the problem at the Nation; here's the money quote:

Al Zack, who until his retirement in 2004 was the United Food and Commercial Workers' vice president for strategic programs, observes that appealing to the poor was "Sam Walton's real genius. He figured out how to make money off of poverty. He located his first stores in poor rural areas and discovered a real market. The only problem with the business model is that it really needs to create more poverty to grow." That problem is cleverly solved by creating more bad jobs worldwide. In a chilling reversal of Henry Ford's strategy, which was to pay his workers amply so they could buy Ford cars, Wal-Mart's stingy compensation policies--workers make, on average, just over $8 an hour, and if they want health insurance, they must pay more than a third of the premium--contribute to an economy in which, increasingly, workers can only afford to shop at Wal-Mart.

Labels: holidays

...for the Yanks, anyway, but we're doing a little luncheon here at work for our many American colleagues who can't make it home. This morning I realized that we're exactly one month away from Christmas and had a slight panic attack so I turned things around by focusing on the holiday at hand, even if it isn't technically mine.

I was watching Woody Allen's "Manhattan" a couple weeks ago (what a beautifully-shot love letter to New York -- I swoon) and I enjoyed his "Why is life worth living?" list near the end. It got me thinking about my own list and US Thanksgiving is as good a day as any to jot some of it down (in no particular order):

-- Aretha Franklin, even the later stuff
-- time in a café with two friends and a good argument
-- watching a film that hits that sweet spot between intelligence and fun (they're rarer than one would think)
-- the Toronto skyline, especially at night
-- 90 minutes in the Niagara Butterfly conservatory
-- Shakespeare veterans (Olivier, Jacobi, Gielgud, Dench, Bloom, McKellen, even Branagh)
-- Dogs, especially terriers (cheers to Bruce McCullough!)
-- Gore Vidal essays and Thai food (both being sweet, savoury and salty all at once)
-- strange comparisons
-- "Memphis Soul Stew" from King Curtis' "Live at the Filmore"
-- those wonderful minutes after my niece first runs to hug me and before she starts barking demands at me (I love that pushy little creature!)
-- a fluffy bacon-and-cheddar omelette
-- finding a pharmacologist who's as dumb as a box of hair (actually, that's from Karen on "Will & Grace" but it's too good a line to pass by)
-- cute geeky guys (rarer than smart popcorn films, twice as great)
-- the emotional sweep of Tchaikovsky, who also gets me through Christmas every year
-- my friends and loved ones (too obvious to say yet not said enough)
-- replies to this blog from friends old and new (hint hint)
-- the "Every Sperm is Sacred" number from Monty Python's "The Meaning of Life"
-- making lists, apparently

See, now I'm just getting ridiculous so it's time to quit. Remember this list next time I'm grousing about something horrible (like the JFK video game!) and go make a list of your own, already!

Labels: family, friends, holidays, introspective, movies, music, Trawna

Working for a computer animation studio these last couple months has been a great experience (though I'm unable to discuss any of it -- curse that confidentiality agreement!) and it's certainly given me an appreciation for the efforts of the animators and the art of CGI in general.

With that in mind, my friend Jeff and I went to see "The Polar Express" last night and not just the regular version in theatres now but the Imax 3-D edition down at the Paramount. We were enthralled right from the start and the entrance of the train itself is both spectacular and haunting. Much has been written about the film's new "performance capture" technology that creates a sort-of middle-ground between computer animation and real footage of actors. The human characters in the film are the most life-like to date, the rest of the animation is at times breathtakingly beautiful and the Imax 3-D creates a near-unbelievable level of depth for a thrilling experience.

So why did I hate this film with the fury of a thousand white-hot suns?

I loathed this movie. I couldn't wait for it to end. I felt claustrophobic in the giant Imax theatre and all but fled at the first end credit. Once safely outside, Jeff and I laughed out loud at how incredibly appalled I was at this movie. It's bizarre how I just can't stress enough how much I hated "The Polar Express."

I don't think I've ever seen a film so utterly lacking in soul. It's not just that the almost-but-not-quite human characters look stiff and a bit creepy (especially in the eyes) but that the movie takes what is apparently a charming little storybook (I'll have to check it out now) and pads, pads, pads it to 90 minutes with one formulaic "thrill-ride" sequence after another. The first 'train-as-rollercoaster' sequence is a genuine thrill but the fourth is just tedious.

Then, amazingly, they finally reach the North Pole and the movie gets worse -- every Christmas cliché grimly trotted out with no warmth or joy. Then there's the overbearing soundtrack that rips off Danny Elfman's "Edward Scissorhands" score (he should sue!) and cranks it up to 11 to make us 'feel the magic' at all the right moments -- absolutely dreadful. Worst of all was the heavy thump of the film's moral -- that the smart, investigative kid who Doubts is saved from "Losing the Magic" of Santa Claus by being ordered to Believe (and yes, you can hear every capital letter). I like smart kids who doubt and ask questions and I hate seeing that quality squeezed out of them by syrup like this.

As an adult watching movies aimed at kids, one normally has one of two reactions. One film will recapture a bit of your childhood, making you feel like ten years old again (I think of "Pirates of the Caribbean" or "Pee Wee's Big Adventure"); another film will grimly remind you that you're not ten year old and never will be again (sigh -- "Star Wars: Episode I"). Judging from the manipulative treacle on display here, I am very thankful for that.

I hated having to keep asking myself, "Am I just a old grouch?" but no, dammit, I'm not. Last year, I was shocked to find myself getting teary during parts of "Finding Nemo" (tell no one) -- a film with genuine wit and warmth, a story of faith and family, and a theme that resonates without giving us a moral bludgeoning. Even the "Shrek" films have moments of real sweetness.

"The Polar Express" is the kind of movie that makes you want to tell a total stranger to run and see it for its incredible visuals, while you tell another stranger to avoid it at all costs for its dispiriting absence of humanity.

Labels: friends, holidays, introspective, movies, technology