tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71712400076668933752024-03-13T20:16:36.255-07:00Sundog RisingUrban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.comBlogger105125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-40023626529864450952015-10-07T06:11:00.003-07:002015-10-07T06:11:19.955-07:00timebomb<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Sundog Rising!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Way back when I was taking <i>Love Poets of the Ancient World</i> in University, our Professor divided us into small groups, gave us a random selection of poems by Ancient Love Poets, and asked us to try to classify them chronologically in the order they were likely written.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I never quite understood the point of the exercise, since all the poems were in modern English translations and not the original Greek and Latin. So essentially in that format, they’d all manifested probably in the last 20 years or so. Nevertheless I and my partner Rob valiantly took a stab at guessing what likely preceded which.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Rob quickly developed a viable strategy for dealing with any poem we weren’t certain of — which to be honest was most of them. He would read the poem over, stare at it blankly, and then dramatically declare that the piece was “Timeless!” Thereby relieving us of any duty to classify it further.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While a thoroughly sensible approach for dealing with annoying academic assignments, I wonder just how legitimate a claim it is to declare any piece of literature truly timeless? The question came more pertinently to my mind a week or so ago when I read another scholarly work on a classic lover: <i>The James Bond Phenomenon</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The book was a collection of essays on both the Ian Fleming novels and the movies up to and including Pierce Brosnan's. As I reread the entire series of Fleming books within the last five years, I was particularly intrigued by the section on the literary Bond.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Every writer started off their essay with a long apologia on how the Fleming books are so terribly dated, in their sexist and imperialist attitudes. And therefore practically pointless to read today. Hardly timeless.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I disagree …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For one thing just about every one of the writers also agreed that Fleming was actually writing a fantasy of how he’d like the world to be, and fantasies never do go out of style. The books read as well to me in the early teens of the 21st Century as they did in the 60s of the 20th, when I first read them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sure there’s a pretty misogynistic attitude in the books, and I’m not saying that’s a good thing. But unfortunately it hardly “dates” the work. Listen to any rap lyrics lately?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Obviously James Bond has many selling points beyond certain of Ian Fleming’s personal unpleasant idiosyncrasies, or they wouldn’t still be making movies about him. The man’s an icon, as the essays also pointed out. A fictional giant other characters are compared against.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There may be aspects of the books readers will have problems with, but the overall image carries the day against them. At worst, when read today one might say James Bond novels need to be seen as representing a certain historical period, but there’s nothing indefensible about that. In fact, most writers, while arguing that as much as Bond represents a world of British Imperialism that has passed away, also state he signifies a new era of freedom in behaviour harkening in the swinging Sixties and all that followed from that revolution in social mores.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So if the portrayal of suspect attitudes isn’t necessarily enough to render a book unreadable given the weight of other factors involved in the storytelling, what might genuinely define a book as so dated that it loses credibility?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">At one of those great second hand bookstores I like to frequent, I came across a true gem a few years back — the paperback novel issued to accompany the famous 1956 sci-fi movie classic <i>Forbidden Planet</i>. The story tells the tale of a valiant group of spacefaring Earthmen landing on a distant planet in the far-flung future. In the novel, the first thing the <i>Doctor</i> on the expedition does when he gets off the spaceship on this Edenic brave new world is … wait for it … light a cigarette.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now that’s dated.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Following up on that theme, there is one aspect of the Ian Fleming novels that has to affect our perception of James Bond as a timeless hero. James, as written, when it comes to smokes is easily a two-pack a day man. He never would have made it out of the 20th Century alive with that habit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Photography by Renee Beaubien, at <i>Beyond the Prism</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>on Flickr, at:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>The Big Mosquito </i></b>continues, with Instalments 18 and 19 of 49 going up Monday October 5th and Friday, October 9th. As always, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mark Spaeth faces financial ruin, and Jason starts really getting to the heart of things. But not where he would have expected to look.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Featuring:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>32. cheque, please</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>33. the latest thing</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Sink Decomposition Series</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">by Fandango Moberly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">#20 of 50</span></div>
Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-24857399366608537732015-09-30T05:46:00.002-07:002015-09-30T05:46:47.064-07:00dismal youth<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Sundog Rising!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>My Dismal Youth — </i>Je Vous En Pris</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So-o disillusioning!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The apparently apocryphal story I always heard ran Samuel Beckett was out walking the streets of Paris one day when a complete stranger walked up to him and for no reason knifed him in the heart. Fortunately, Sam’s overcoat was so heavy, the blade was turned aside and he wasn’t killed. An archetypical Beckettian incident in a Beckettian universe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well. According to Jacqueline Bograd Weld in her biography of Peggy Guggenheim which I’m presently reading, this is what really happened. Beckett had gone to the movies with some friends one evening, and …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>On the way home after the standard stop in a café, Beckett and his two friends, Alan and Belinda Duncan, ran into a pimp named Prudent who worked on the avenue d’Orléans. Prudent fell into step beside Beckett, asking for money, which Beckett insisted quite honestly that he did not have. Prudent persevered, offering the services of one of his </i>poules<i> in return for a small loan. Beckett tried to move away, but Prudent simply grew louder and grabbed him by the arm, whereupon Beckett flung the man away, knocking him to the ground. Enraged, the pimp got up, stabbed Beckett in the chest with a clasp knife, and fled.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The knife did barely miss Beckett’s heart. Skipping ahead a bit, Weld says:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Although Beckett’s injuries were serious enough to keep him hospitalized for quite some time, when he finally recovered and appeared before the magistrate and Prudent the pimp apologized, Beckett was broadminded enough to reply, “</i>Je vous en pris<i>” (“Think nothing of it”).</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While I don’t deny that the story as told here still lends a certain flair to Beckett’s behaviour which is rather appealing, it doesn’t have the same gripping effect the apocryphal version always did for me when I was in my late teens and early twenties.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You see, back then, in my dismal youth, I was convinced the three greatest writers of all time were Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Samuel Beckett, and Franz Kafka.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Their united European view of life as nothing better than a complete mistake and malaise suited my same opinion of the phenomenon perfectly. Céline exemplified the point of view the best, of course. I was pleased to read in Weld’s book that Beckett once shared my opinion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In a nutshell, Louis Ferdinand Céline was a French writer who also worked as a doctor for poverty wages in a poor neighbourhood of France. He was also a condemned collaborationist during the Second World War, a presumed anti-semite, and the writer of such uplifting books as <i>Journey to the End of the Night</i> and <i>Death on the Instalment Plan</i>. I discovered him through his <i>Castle to Castle</i> trilogy, a nonfiction set of three books depicting how at the end of World War Two he set off on foot with his wife and cat to walk across Europe to Denmark looking for sanctuary, and how when he finally arrived, he was immediately wounded in the head and thrown in jail.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Just about summed up growing up in Charleswood perfectly, to my adolescent mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don’t presume to say that my “coming-of-age” experience — God I hate that phrase — reflected the average, but I know I wasn’t alone either. What is there in a society so replete in everything a person might want such as ours that leads our youth into states of alienation so complete only the bleakest depictions of life possible seem to match their emotional states? I shake my head.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was starting to get over it by the time I left University. The last essay I wrote before getting my degree was “The Humour of Samuel Beckett and Franz Kafka”. Part of the appeal of all three writers for me was that on a certain level, they all got the joke.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But reading Weld’s book today reminds me of the time when I thought Beckett’s pov was the only one that made sense, especially when events unfurl as randomly as I always thought the knife attack Sam suffered was. In fact, that event ended very well for Beckett. A passing nurse, Suzanne Dechevaux-Dumesnil, rushed over to save his life. Beckett and Suzanne spent the rest of their lives together, eventually marrying in the early 60s.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I read the genuine account of the knifing, it occurred to me that now that I’m older and have been through more than a few genuine wringers in life myself, you’d think I’d be more amenable <i>now</i> to the approach to life Beckett, Céline and Kafka offer so graphically, and that I embraced so eagerly when I was too young to know any better.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But, nah. Now that I’m old and relatively content, I find Sam’s statement in court regarding his attacker more apropos.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Je vous en pris.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Photography by Renee Beaubien, at <i>Beyond the Prism</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">on Flickr, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Artists Worth A Look!</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Terrific interview with musician Jill Tracy by Eddie Muller of the Film Noir Foundation:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Where Shadows Fall: Jill Tracy talks to <i>Noir City Magazine</i>”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://jilltracy.com/jt/uncategorized/where-shadows-fall-jill-tracy-talks-to-noir-city-magazine/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>The Big Mosquito</i></b> continues, with Instalments 16 and 17 of 49 going up Monday September 28th and Friday, October 2nd. As always, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kent Wesley returns, Jason defines Morpheus Interruptus, and everyone gets a good night’s sleep. Sort of.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Featuring:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>26. glad I had that drink</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>27. the nearest bed</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>30. senseless diary</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Sink Decomposition Series</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">by Fandango Moberly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">#18 of 50</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The mounting tension! The Green Spatula is gone! The whole colour scheme is changing! Red is peeking through! What’s next? What’s next? The Slotted Spoon? The Slotted Spoon?</span></div>
Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-3282068442171972332015-09-23T06:24:00.004-07:002015-09-23T06:24:49.034-07:00Wednesday Wednesday Wednesday<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It only seems natural that as I always post these blogs on Wednesday that I would eventually get around to writing a piece on that wonderful example of style and innocence that I would love to have as a role model for my own daughter if I ever had one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wednesday Addams.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wednesday has been portrayed by many actors, many ways, in many formats in popular media, but I always return to three main depictions as my favourites. The original <i>Charles Addams</i> cartoons — Wednesday’s a product of Chas’s mind, after all! — Christina Ricci in the 2 <i>Addams Family</i> movies from the early 90s, and, of course, the immortal Lisa Loring in the original black and white <i>Addams Family</i> television show from the sixties.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When the show originally ran I was actually the same age as Wednesday, and I admit to having a bit of a crush on her. Why couldn’t the girls in my school be more like her? Life would have made so much more sense … Now that I’m old enough to be her grandfather, my feelings are of course, more paternal. Or even avuncular. After all, Wednesday always had such a special relationship with her uncles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Hello, Uncle Fester. You still alive?”</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (TV show — 1965)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Let’s take a look at how Wednesday’s creator thought of her. In the words of the immortal Charles Addams, Wednesday is the “</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Child of woe … wan and delicate … sensitive and on the quiet side, she loves the picnics and outings to the underground caverns … a solemn child, prim in dress and, on the whole, pretty lost … secretive and imaginative, poetic, seems underprivileged and given to occasional tantrums … has six toes on one foot</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ah, yes. Recall the heartwarming Chas Addams cartoon from July 21st, 1945, set in Wednesday’s bedroom. Morticia is leaning in the doorway as only Morticia can lean, looking on approvingly as father Gomez performs the age-old rhyming ritual with sweet daughter Wednesday on her bed: “</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, This little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none, This little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home, And this little piggy …</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wednesday always had that sibling rivalry thing going with her brother Pugsley as well. In the Christina Ricci movies, Wednesday is much more the aggressor, of which I approve. In the Charles Addams’s originals, she was much more the oppressed, and occasionally needed a stern word from her mother to prompt her to stand up for herself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Morticia:</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Well, don’t come whining to me. Go tell him you’ll poison him right back.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Charles describes Wednesday as “secretive and imaginative”, qualities which of course are both highly appealing. But what I admire most in Wednesday is her innate introspective quiet. Such a well mannered obedient child, when not suffering one of her tantrums concerning feeling lost.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is probably Wednesday’s creative side that I love best, however. Addams described Wednesday as “poetic”, but it took Lisa Loring to bring that facet of her character to life on television in 1966.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>I have a gloomy little spider;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>I love to sit down close beside her.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>She never knows where she has been</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>'cause all she does is spin and spin.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>My spider's quite a busy roamer,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>which is why I called her Homer.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>She loves to work and spin all day,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>and then at night she likes to play.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Her web is like my mother's hair;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>her eyes have got my father's stare.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>She may not jump or twist or bend</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>but a spider's a girl's best friend.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wednesday may be one of the great outsiders in life, but she knows where her heart lies, and is ever loyal to those who love her best in return. Such as the Addams’s butler, Lurch. Wednesday is always open to looking out for Lurch’s best interests.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Wednesday: (finds Lurch hiding) <i>Just because we want you to go to The Butlers' Ball? It'll be fun.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Lurch: <i>I like being miserable.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Wednesday: <i>You might find a nice girl to be miserable with.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(TV show — 1964: “Lurch Learns to Dance”)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ever the true artiste in the family, Wednesday does take it upon herself to teach the forlorn Frankenstein’s Monster-like Lurch how to dance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As it turns out, Lurch is no slouch at the old not-so-soft-shoe. But watch carefully. Because on top of all her other seemingly endless charming qualities, Wednesday Addams got moves. (She’d probably come up with some way to remove the commercial on this video beforehand too. Or replace Mr. Clean with Uncle Fester. Endure. The wait’s worth it.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8KZYiB7a3YU</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ah, yes. And one can only imagine what Wednesday might have been like when she finally hit adolescence …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Photography by Renee Beaubien, at Beyond the Prism</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>on Flickr, at:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The Big Mosquito</b> continues, getting thoroughly back on the wagon after my holiday break with 3 postings this week. Numbers 13, 14 and 15 of 49 go up Monday September 21st, Wednesday September 23rd, and Friday, September 25th. Back to 2 a week through to the end next week. As always, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Events in the dream lab take a surprisingly bloodless turn, Edward MacNiece tries to save the Kent Wesley mega-production, and Jason goes totally King Lear for Conrad Moberly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Featuring:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>23. crisis in the dream machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>24. miss bunnybloom and the police inspector</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>25. who loves ya?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Sink Decomposition Series</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">by Fandango Moberly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">#16 of 50</span></div>
Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-91475285374011230012015-09-02T06:55:00.003-07:002015-09-02T06:55:26.847-07:00brainshift<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Sundog Rising!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Brainshift</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Some people are really hung up on getting the right shoe on the right foot in the right order every morning. Or left, depending on their inclination. It’s a superstition sort of thing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I feel the same way about the right and left sides of my brain. Except I can never remember which is which, which can definitely lead to some bad luck.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It always seems to make more sense to me that the left side of the brain should be the more creative side, because the concept of “left” in general is less conforming than “right”. We’re practically all right-handed, right? And creativity should be an act of the unconventional.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But the reason we’re almost all right-handed is because that’s the left side of our brain asserting itself. The left side of the brain controls the right side of the body’s actions, etc.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So really using the left side of your brain is more conformist. Those who prefer the left brain are actually the math whizzes, and the supposedly really imaginative people are predominantly right brained.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I have a certain routine to my day — a left brain concept to begin with, I wonder? — which involves not only the creation of new writing but the processing and refining of writing I’ve already done. I work on three books at once. I start by editing a chapter of an already completed manuscript of one book. Then I type five new pages of manuscript into the computer from a second book, performing a first edit on the material as I go through it. And when those two jobs are done, I switch to writing a completely new manuscript.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And somewhere in there I think I tend to forget which side of my brain I put on first that morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There actually is a clear explanation for this. While the left brain is in charge of logic and precise mathematics, the left hemisphere of your brain is also dominant in language. That side of your brain processes what you hear and handles most of the functions of speaking.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Since writers are primarily hearing voices and talking to themselves all day, that’s a big part of the creative process. I suspect even more so during the editing and processing stages of the raw writing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The right side of your brain is big on helping us interpret visual imagery. It makes sense of what we see. It also plays a role in language, but in the sense of interpreting a person’s tone and the context of what you’re hearing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That is writing a new manuscript in a nutshell. The images and the dialogue come flying at you and you’ve got to organize and transcribe those unprocessed concepts somehow onto the page in a manner that not only makes sense but that hopefully offers some flair and panache as well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That moment when I make the shift from editing and typing to drafting a new story each morning is when my brain tends to stall. If I think — no pun intended — of the move in these terms, it does make sense that I can’t just flow from one process to another. I might be working on writing the whole time, but the first two activities have me primarily accessing my left brain, while creating new material definitely puts me in the realm of the right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So it’s no surprise my poor old think-box isn’t all that swift at making the shift some days. Especially since I’m never all that certain whether I put on my left or my right brain first that morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What surprises me is that I stall at the moment I want to begin something I’m eagerly looking forward to doing — writing a new manuscript. Generally I know precisely where I’m starting, and I’ve got an outline prepared of what I want to write. But that full creative process, man …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In all honesty I must be employing both sides of my brain during all three of these processes, editing, typing and drafting, just with one side more dominant at any particular moment than the other. So sudden brainshift obviously involves a struggle to see which side can maintain control. Not a problem you usually run into putting on your footwear. Your left foot doesn’t suddenly start kicking your right foot. No! I get the sock first! Gimme!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My corpus callosum must be a mess some days! For example, I tried to write that term “corpus callosum” from memory there, with the vague impression that I knew it was the right word. But trying to employ a vague impression is very much right brain activity, while remembering how to spell it correctly is very much left brain activity. So with my right brain leading the way, the first time I typed callosum, I got every single vowel wrong. But then my left brain kicked in and I logically went to check the proper spelling, and …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It’s a miracle anyone ever manages to write anything. But no surprise that all good fiction is based on resolving conflict.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Photography by Renee Beaubien, at Beyond the Prism</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>on Flickr, at:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Coming Event! Grindcore Madness!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>A music documentary by Dylan Baillie</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>And when he’s not shooting metal mayhem, he shoot food videos with his father.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7--BpmTUF5s</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>John Baillie</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>The Big Mosquito</i></b> continues, with 3 postings this week, and only 1 next week. There’ll be no Sunblog at all! Numbers 8, 9 and 10 of 49 go up Monday August 31st, Wednesday September 2nd, and Friday, September 4th. With number 11 next Monday, special Labour Day edition, September 7th. As always, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sylvie gets involved on the dream scene, Jason gets hired to investigate no less than 2 mysteries, and it’s time to Meet the Moberlys! Philip Marlowe never had it so good.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Featuring:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>13. dreaming is true</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>14. power lunch</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>15. senseless diary</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>16. let’s dance</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>17. the old man</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>18. the girlfriend’s pov</i></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xmqOhk69yl4/Veb_pJ_IQOI/AAAAAAAAEPw/MuupnRSQInA/s1600/brain%2B13%2Bsink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xmqOhk69yl4/Veb_pJ_IQOI/AAAAAAAAEPw/MuupnRSQInA/s400/brain%2B13%2Bsink.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Sink Decomposition Series</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">by Fandango Moberly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">#10 of 50</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>Holiday Schedule:</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>8 of 49: Monday, August 31st</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>9 of 49: Wednesday, September 2nd</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>10 of 49: Friday, September 4th</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>11 of 49: Monday, September 7th</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>12 of 49: Friday, September 18th</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>13 of 49: Monday, September 21st</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>14 of 49: Wednesday, September 23rd</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>15 of 49: Friday, September 25th</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>then back to two a week until the end of the book.</i></span></div>
Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-53000881980211970172015-08-26T06:16:00.000-07:002015-08-26T06:16:13.622-07:00deadlines<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Real and Imaginary Deadlines</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--gKn9cpbG9M/Vd26kG4MQSI/AAAAAAAAEMQ/p_934BJt2pk/s1600/dead%2B01%2Bgrim.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--gKn9cpbG9M/Vd26kG4MQSI/AAAAAAAAEMQ/p_934BJt2pk/s400/dead%2B01%2Bgrim.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One of the great advantages of being dead is that you’re finally existing outside of time. You’re absolutely free of the incredible burden of being conscious of the inevitability of the next moment, and the attendant anxiety concerning being aware something’s expected of you. In other words: no more deadlines, real or imaginary.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4nyWyZzD0JQ/Vd26rdkTQOI/AAAAAAAAEMY/HgyMxlQs8EY/s1600/dead%2B01%2Bbetter%2Bgrim.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4nyWyZzD0JQ/Vd26rdkTQOI/AAAAAAAAEMY/HgyMxlQs8EY/s400/dead%2B01%2Bbetter%2Bgrim.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So it’s curious that we grant the necessity of having to have something done by a certain time that particular term: deadline. The only time you’re completely free of deadlines is, ironically, when you’re dead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Makes you wonder about the etymology of the word. Makes me wonder anyway, so I did some research. Seems it comes from a Civil War term — such a rich period for language that was, giving us “sideburns” and “hookers” too — although not necessarily hookers with sideburns — regarding where it was safe for prisoners to walk in a stockade. If a prisoner crossed a certain line, a guard would shoot him dead. This got adapted into American newspaper jargon around 1920, meaning “time limit”. If you didn’t get your work in on time, you were obviously a “dead man”. And thus free of deadlines forevermore, as I originally observed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So there is a connection. Sort of.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Outside of a job featuring distinct time constrictions, I would argue any deadline as such is essentially arbitrary. For one thing, is anyone really going to shoot you if you don’t get the work done on time? All my deadlines are presently set by only one person — me. And I wouldn’t touch a gun with a ten foot pole, so I think I’m pretty safe to work for.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rj14VlWxqXY/Vd267EgBaRI/AAAAAAAAEMo/sIF1d2I1t2k/s1600/dead%2B04%2Bgraves.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rj14VlWxqXY/Vd267EgBaRI/AAAAAAAAEMo/sIF1d2I1t2k/s400/dead%2B04%2Bgraves.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That doesn’t stop me from setting deadlines for myself, though.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Right now, I’m looking at this list:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Finish drafting <i>Reality Fiction Four</i> by September 4th, finish editing <i>Confucius Takes a Lover</i> by August 27th — coincidentally my wedding anniversary, something else I better not forget — finish plotting <i>The Devil Is In Retail</i> by October 4th, write 4 more Urban Sunblogs by October 1st, start editing <i>Suspicious Pines</i> September 21st, continue typing <i>Reality Fiction Four</i> into the computer September 21st, send <i>Sticks, Stones and Breaking Bones</i> to a new publisher if I don’t hear from the one it’s currently with by the end of the year …</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oPE7tKPkFZU/Vd27NKrjkaI/AAAAAAAAEMw/QTS_I0EJPPE/s1600/dead%2B05%2Bover%2Bwork.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oPE7tKPkFZU/Vd27NKrjkaI/AAAAAAAAEMw/QTS_I0EJPPE/s400/dead%2B05%2Bover%2Bwork.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do I really have to do any of this? No. Do I want to? Yep. Is anyone holding a gun to my head to make sure I do? Nope — but I do perceive benefits to my existence if I follow through on these plans.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It’s good to have something to work towards. Gives shape and meaning to your life. Plus you can look back at the end of it and say, wow, I really accomplished something. And that is something we should do more of in life, rather than always only worrying about what comes next.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wLA1UXlrXAE/Vd27VG9q-iI/AAAAAAAAEM4/OaunI4P7nyE/s1600/dead%2B06%2Baccomplish.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wLA1UXlrXAE/Vd27VG9q-iI/AAAAAAAAEM4/OaunI4P7nyE/s400/dead%2B06%2Baccomplish.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because the deadline is never the true reality in any of these cases. It’s what you actually do to meet the deadline that counts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That’s living, with someone pointing a gun at you or not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CVKXvnaEFpE/Vd27gkfQ4LI/AAAAAAAAENA/jo3Dz9G2oRk/s1600/dead%2B07%2Brenee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CVKXvnaEFpE/Vd27gkfQ4LI/AAAAAAAAENA/jo3Dz9G2oRk/s400/dead%2B07%2Brenee.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Photography by Renee Beaubien, at Beyond the Prism</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>on Flickr, at:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Coming Event! Grindcore Madness!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>A music documentary by Dylan Baillie</b></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1tbuhfBJ7n0/Vd27pU2hNOI/AAAAAAAAENI/6AEg1S6ERJw/s1600/arsonfest%2Bposter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1tbuhfBJ7n0/Vd27pU2hNOI/AAAAAAAAENI/6AEg1S6ERJw/s640/arsonfest%2Bposter.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>And when he’s not shooting metal mayhem, he shoot food videos with his father.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7--BpmTUF5s</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>John Baillie</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>The Big Mosquito</i></b> continues, with postings number 6 and 7 of 49, Monday August 24th and Friday, August 28th. As always, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The morning after the party the night before, and intrigue on the film set.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Featuring:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>10. back at the Marquee</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>11. don’t call the cops, they’ll call you</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>12. sound and light</i></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tjrckVa7fCg/Vd278GPN6AI/AAAAAAAAENQ/srMmFtIRgbI/s1600/cut%2B42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tjrckVa7fCg/Vd278GPN6AI/AAAAAAAAENQ/srMmFtIRgbI/s400/cut%2B42.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Sink Decomposition Series</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">by Fandango Moberly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">#8 of 50</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next Instalment — 7 of 49: Friday, August 28th</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8 of 49: Monday, August 31st</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9 of 49: Wednesday, September 2nd</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10 of 49: Friday, September 4th</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">11 of 49: Monday, September 7th</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">12 of 49: Friday, September 18th</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">13 of 49: Monday, September 21st</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">14 of 49: Wednesday, September 23rd</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">15 of 49: Friday, September 25th</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">then back to two a week until the end of the book.</span></div>
Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-32832145084225744162015-08-19T06:15:00.003-07:002015-08-19T06:15:36.406-07:00The Lost Lagoon of Dr. Hota Part 3<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>A little background material to </i>The Big Mosquito<i>.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>A Jason Midnight and His Cousin Caroline short mystery</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>from </i>Slow Left Turn At Midnight<i>.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Copyright 2006 by John H. Baillie </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Part Three</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> When I wake up, I’m manacled to a wall in a dungeon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> What’s the point? I wonder. I shut my eyes, and try to pass out again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Jason, you fink, I saw that!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Damn! Caroline caught me. I open my eyes and look around some more. Hmm, quite the line up we’ve got here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Good to have you back in the land of the living, laddie,” Patrick says from my immediate right. “That was quite the whack your poor noggin took, there.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I roll my head around on my shoulders. It doesn’t fall off. Good. “I’ve felt worse. So. Who’s all here?” I look down the line to my left. Patrick’s the only person to my right. Leaning out, I can see Caroline directly beside me, and after her, Gary, Rodan, Mothra and Kent. With me, that makes — </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “They got eight of us,” Caroline snarls.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I sigh. “Seven, Caroline, seven …"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, actually she’s right,” Patrick agrees with her, but what does he know, he’s an escaped lunatic. “The bastard’s got Annabeth stashed away somewhere too.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I’m about to apologize to Caroline when she says “He does?” All is right with the world. And I notice of the seven of us, Kent, Rodan, Mothra and Gary are all gagged. This Dr. Hota can’t be so mad as all that, then.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What happened?” I ask.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “The nudist Zombies overwhelmed us,” Patrick explains. “Or was it the Zombie nudists? No surprise, really, either way.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Could have been both,” Caroline remarks, sagely.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “They dragged the lot of us out here to the Lost Lagoon,” Patrick goes on. “But Dr. Prufrock, Henry, and the butterfly hunters got away.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh, what a relief,” I manage to say with a straight face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “How they’ll find us out here though, I’ll never know,” Caroline says ruefully.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “We’ll just have to rely on our own wits to get ourselves out of this,” I announce.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Caroline laughs heartily. “Good one.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> A door creaks open ominously. An obese, menacing figure waddles onto the scene. A collective shiver runs through the room. “Dr. Hota, I presume,” I say, before I can stop myself. What is wrong with me?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> The figure rolls up to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Now there’s a heart attack waiting to happen,” Caroline whispers out of the side of her mouth to me, then gives Hota a big, innocent grin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hota glances at her. “Hmp.” He’s got a round head, big, sad, droopy eyes, and fat, slightly obscene looking lips. “And how did you deduce that I was Dr. Hota, my dear sir?” He has a resonant, unhurried voice, a mid-Atlantic accent, but he’s more Charles Laughton than Orson Welles. There’s something very oily about him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You’re fully dressed,” I point out. And he is. He’s wearing a white suit complete with tie and cufflinks, for Chrissake. Who wears cufflinks anymore? Especially out in Lagoon country?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Ha!” Hota laughs loudly. “Well spotted, sir! It’s unfortunate you’re too old to join my little colony. I’d be most interested to see what effect my little potion would have upon such a keenly analytical mind.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “He’s nuts,” Caroline says to the gagged Gary on her other side. “Obviously raving mad.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hota chuckles. “I’ve been called far worse than that, madame. But such epithets are meaningless. My work speaks for itself.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “A herd of buck naked teenagers unable to think for themselves?” I comment. “Oh, that speaks loads, all right.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Ha! Ha! Ha!” Okay, he’s got the evil laugh down all right, I’ll grant him that. “You scoff at my accomplishments sir, as so many have before you. But posterity will tell, sir, posterity will tell.” He drapes himself languidly on a table across from us, his legs right up off the floor and crossed, massive hips rolling into place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Did he say ‘posterity’, or ‘posterior’?” Patrick asks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh, most droll,” Hota drawls. “But may I remind you people, that even though you are presently my guests, you are hardly in a position to abuse my hospitality.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “For someone who maintains his authority primarily through some form of mind control, that’s talking pretty big,” I point out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “My mind control potion is only a means to a spiritually moral end,” Hota argues with complete conviction. “I would never dream of using it on an adult, fully rational human being. Let me give you an example. Trent!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hota sits up and claps his hands once sharply. A set of double doors at the top of a staircase opens, and Trent lurches in, holding his arms straight out in front of him, but leading Annabeth by a chain locked to a gold collar clamped around her neck.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> “RRRRRAGHHH!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Trent still wears his black swim trunks, but Annabeth — whoa, Nellie!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You fiend,” Patrick growls at Hota.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I don’t know,” Caroline says brightly. “I think it really flatters her hips. And that colour’s a knockout on her.” Caroline runs a textiles store. This time she knows what she’s talking about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Trent leads Annabeth up to us just in time for the captive girl to hear Caroline’s comments. “Do you really think so?” she asks eagerly. “He offered me another one in pink, but I thought, with my skin, no, it just wouldn’t work.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, the teal was definitely the right choice,” Caroline assures her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I’m so glad you think so!” Rodan and Mothra vigorously nod their silent agreement too. “But what about the shoes? Too much?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Do you mind!” For the first time, Hota loses his cool a little. This impromptu fashion review is throwing off his maniacal monologue.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hota’s dressed Annabeth in some weird kind of turquoisey one-piece cloth, that goes around her neck, down her front and then down and up again behind to her waist, draped around some gold metal hoop around her middle. The cloth’s neckline plunges to below her navel, and she’s not wearing anything underneath. She looks like some barbarian princess off of an old Edgar Rice Burroughs’s paperback. She’s also decked out with some kind of teeteringly balanced, wildly elaborate golden tiara-type thing perched precariously in her hair, and the gold collar the chain Trent leads her by is attached to, with a set of gold bands cuffing her arms together around her wrists. She wears gold anklets as well, and these bizarre, silvery, metallic-looking open toed high heeled shoes, that look like scorpions sitting on their stingers. She’s none too steady on her feet, but I have to agree with Caroline. For someone so amply endowed in the lower regions as well as up top, Annabeth carries off the ensemble very well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Meet the woman I have chosen as my queen,” Hota gloats lasciviously, “and I assure you, I have used no mind control potion upon her.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Gedoudda here, ya creep!” Annabeth snarls.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “We’ve already met,” Caroline protests. “That’s Annabeth, she has the cottage down the path from mine, and —”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “But you have never before met her as my queen!” Hota insists, a little miffed. “That’s the point.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “She’ll never be your queen, monster,” Patrick argues. “Annabeth, darlin’ — hold on. We’re bound to be rescued, and then I’ll get you out of that awful outfit as quick as I can.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> We hear Rodan and Mothra trying to scream behind their gags. Patrick blushes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I mean — well, you know what I mean, love!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Annabeth goes even more wobbly, and there’s an awful lot of her in view right now that wobbles. “Did you just call me — love?” she gasps to Patrick.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yes, darlin’.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Did you just call me — darlin’?” she squeaks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yes, my beautiful one.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Did you just call me —”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Enough!” Hota erupts. “You’re <i>my</i> queen, let me remind you! Don’t forget who gave you your fair and radiant raiment.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And the handcuffs, and the chains,” Caroline snarls. “Although I do hear that kind of thing is popular in certain circles, these days. On late night cable TV. I really don’t know about the shoes, though —”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Face it, Hota,” I interrupt. “You can dress the girl up — sort of — and put on the chains and all, but golden as they may be, you still will not have won her heart. Ee-gad, what did I just say?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hota chuckles quietly. Walks up to me again. “That is where you’re quite wrong, sir. And where you are wrong, and you, and even you.” He points at Patrick, Caroline, and Annabeth in succession. “You see, I will break the girl to my bit, and not through the use of my masterfully concocted mind control potion either. But through the proper respect and admiration I am owed, that she will come to develop for me as comes to know me.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> More hearty scoffing from the manacle gang.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You laugh, but I —” Hota holds one dramatic finger in the air — “am a superior human being. I have purged the base sex drive from my body, and attained a completely elevated spiritual plane hitherto unknown by man except to the greatest mystics.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Right,” I concede. “That’s why you dressed Annabeth up like some barbarian tart from Mars, and that’s why you surround yourself with gorgeous bodied teenaged girls and boys you brainwash into never wearing clothes, and oh yeah, don’t you have some kind of wild woman daughter running around somewhere too, Mr. I’m-so-much-better-than-sex?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hota smiles, with those oily fat lips. His droopy eyes go all watery. “The path has been a difficult one, I admit. To fully conquer my bestial urges I did need to indulge them once, to know the full power of what I gave up — thus, the unfortunate Vixeena, who I have tried to protect form the ways of the world as much as has been in my power. As to my companion regent’s dress — I find the only proper way to maintain my heightened spiritual edge is to constantly expose myself to the path of temptation that I must resist — And ain’t she a looker? Woof! Woof!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Okay, we’ll give you those two, but what about the zombie nudists?” Caroline grants him. “Eh? Gotcha there, don’t we, eh? Eh?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hota favours her with a particularly condescending smile. “Those — Zombies, as you so quaintly refer to them, are nothing short of my crowning achievement. The scions of a new race of spiritual and physical perfection.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh, sure they look good, but spiritual perfection? They all look zonked out of their skulls.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Let me tell you the proper history of Dr. Hota’s Naturalist Resort for Decent Young Men and Women, madame,” Hota insists, as he is in full monologue mode now. He’s enjoying his captive audience. Say what you like about naked nubiles, if they’re all zombified out the whole time it must be nice to have someone clothed and relatively with it to talk to once in awhile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “My family opened the colony as a Christian Sunshine Camp in the 1920s. I took over management in the late 1950s. My family always had a strong philosophical belief in the power of the mind over the body’s baser urges, but their attempts to encourage these beliefs amongst the general populace were hopelessly primitive.” Hota warms to his subject, beginning to move around. “My parents’ approach was to retreat from life, and deny as much as possible that temptations to the spirit even existed. When they ran the camp, their young men and women were not allowed even to bathe without being covered from chin to ankle. Bare feet were frowned upon, but allowed. Only on the men, however.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And you saw good reason to change all that?” I remark.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh yes. If the mind and the spirit could grow to such a profound extent as they did within me as I was brought up in this environment, how much further could these exemplary qualities expand if exposed to the most extreme temptation every single day? So when I took over ownership of the premises, I changed the nature of the camp completely, turning it into a colony in which the young men and women would live for a full year of their lives with every single barrier to appreciation of the physical body removed completely. My young men and women would not be protected from each other. I would openly invite them to appreciate each other sexually every moment they spent with me. But they would rise above these temptations, through the daily instruction I offered in the power of the mind and spirit to elevate the soul. They would attain the ultimate pinnacle of decency in their nakedness. Their nudity would only sharpen their daily triumph over their baser desires. And so I started my grand experiment, with a full roster of fresh-faced, able bodied young men and women.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> He pauses, looking uncomfortable. “Well,” he continues, glancing downwards. “I failed.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No shit, Sherlock.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “One of the young ladies snuck a long playing recording into the colony, one of those new ‘rock and roll’ platters. They decided to have a dance, down on the beach of the Lagoon. They played this record and — well. The results were havoc. My — ahem — daughter, Vixeena, was just one of the results of the moral chaos that ensued that night. That — ahem — first night, of the grand experiment.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I sigh. “But you didn’t give up. Did you?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Of course I did not give up! For I was — and am — Hota! I devoted myself once more to science, and developed my chemicological masterpiece. The mind control potion! Tastes something like root beer. I enrolled a new group of colonists, and before I let them take their clothes off, I administered the potion to them. The result was everything I could have hoped for. A large group of beautiful young men and women perfectly willing to coexist with each other in the nude and completely able to withstand the baser urges of their flesh thanks to my brilliant teachings of the way of the mind — the way of Hota! From then on, my colony was an unmitigated success. Since then, I have inculcated my message into three generations of young people. Some have grown older and chosen to stay with me, such as the loyal Trent —"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> "RRRRRAGHHH!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Well. Actually, Trent’s the only one who’s ever stayed with me, and he’s not the most sparkling conversationalist, but he is still an example of the triumph of the brain over the body!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “RRRRRAGHHH?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Sort of.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “So why isn’t he naked?” Caroline asks, pointedly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hota smiles. “He’s too old. I never let anyone over twenty-five enjoy the true freedom of the colony. As I have never allowed my daughter to do so, at any age, I might add — or myself. Some proprieties must be observed, by those of us responsible enough to be in charge. That is also why I have not administered the potion to any of you, or have had you remove your clothing.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Because we’re too responsible?” Caroline’s trying to work this out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No. Because you’re too old. Except for the lad and the two girls there, I may yet —”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You sunnava —”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Please, madame! Control yourself. Our byword in Dr. Hota’s Naturalist Resort for Decent Young Men and Women is dignified restraint.” This sentiment rather loses some of its effect as he finishes the statement by leering at Annabeth and starting to shake, his fat fingers twitching.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Why have you kidnapped Annabeth then, and dressed her up so, you lecherous old sod!” Patrick demands.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Again the smile. “I told you, sir. To test myself daily. Not with a zombie, as you call them, but with a real, live, vivacious, beautiful, breathing, quivering woman, with huge — ahem. And, because, it is time, I, Hota, took a mate. I mean, a companion. Time marches on, sir. Even Hota grows older. This — enchanting, voluptuous young woman will come, in time ... to appreciate my philosophy and join me in ruling and enriching the lives of my many young wards. We will continue to turn out generation after generation of truly decent young men and women, taught to happily and gloriously renounce their animalistic sexual natures for the rest of their lives …” He practically beams as he finishes this speech. Too bad his fingers still twitch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Just one thing,” I ask, having deduced what’s undoubtedly the major flaw in this plan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And what would that be?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Where do you find these new groups of colonists, generation after generation?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Well, naturally an endeavour such as mine relies on the utmost discretion. Thus my new colonists are recruited by invitation only.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And how do you choose who to invite?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Another huge smile. “I invite only the sons and daughters of my previous colonists, of course. Naturally, their parents are quite willing to accommodate me, as — ahem — the effects of my mind control potion never do completely wear off.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I smirk, and glance over at Caroline. “Do you want to point it out to him, or should I?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Point out what?” Caroline can’t do the math, of course.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> But Patrick can. “That his former colonists have hardly entirely renounced their sexual natures and totally embraced ‘the way of Hota’ if they’re out there having so many bonny wee babbies, have they.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hota stops dead. His face turns purple. His expression is of someone just kicked in the teleologicals.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “But — how — could they — can they — but I — but they —” he splutters. Then he claps his hand over his mouth and turns away. He claps his other hand over his mouth too and sounds as if he’s muffling a scream. His massive, round shoulders shake. Then he slowly turns back to us, a beaten man.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I never thought of that,” he says quietly. “I have failed. Totally ... and utterly ... failed. I have no recourse but to end my grand experiment now then, and forever, right here in this room. I shall burn my laboratory and mansion to the ground, leaving no trace of my mind control potion for any to find. ... Unfortunately, you’ll all be killed in the blaze too, but I’m much too upset at the moment to concern myself with that. Meanwhile, I’m getting out of here with the babe.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What! Hey —”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No! You can’t —”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Jason, you idiot, look what you’ve done now —”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “RRRRRAGHHH?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hota darts to Trent and grabs Annabeth’s chain from his hand, then wraps one greasy right arm around her waist and clutches her to him with an evil laugh. “I may have failed, but at least now that means I don’t have to hold back my own depraved lusts any longer! This woman is mine, mine I tell you! And —” he dashes to the wall and grabs an ominously placed flaming torch — “there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Halt! You fiend!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> What the hell? Our heads turn to look at the door at the stop of the stairs.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “It’s the butterfly hunters!” Patrick cries out. “I knew we’d be rescued!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I’ll be damned. It’s Moose and Lucky all right, with Humphrey on his leash. Don’t tell me the toad came through? And our men are even armed — they brought their butterfly nets.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No pair of lepidopteran nimrods with a giant Bufinidae can stop me now!” Hota gloats, waving the torch. God, I love my job! Where else can you hear such colourful language? Although I think the correct term would probably have been Bufinida.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Who are you calling nimrods?” Moose wants to know, mortally offended.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I’m putting this room to the torch, and then I’m having this woman, now, tonight!” Hota declaims. “I’ve wasted thirty-four fucking years on the way of the mind, I’ve got a lot of lechery to catch up with. And you won’t stop me! Ha!” He dashes the torch onto a wooden table piled high with papers, which go up like a tinderbox. Then he hauls the screaming Annabeth back through the room to a wall, where he presses some concealed switch, and a secret exit opens. He yanks Annabeth through the opening, disappearing until there is no trace of him left except the fading echoes of his mad laughter and his captive’s shrieks of terror. Lucky and Moose charge down the stairs to unshackle us — they’d better move quick. The flames are spreading unnaturally fast.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No!” Patrick directs them. “Leave us! Quickly! Rescue Annabeth! After them, run!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Right.” Lucky nods. He and Moose run off through the increasing smoke and flames into the secret exit. Leaving us all behind, still manacled to the wall.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Patrick, you — you —” I’m speechless. “You <i>lunatic</i>.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And your point is?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “How the hell are we supposed to get out of here!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh, someone else is bound to come along, just you wait and see, boyo.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> As if on cue, Vixeena undulates out of the shadows. She heads straight for Kent. Holds up a big brass key. Removes his gag.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Vixeena! Thank God you’re here! Quick — unlock my bonds!” Wesley pleads.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Hota not in control no more?” Vixeena enquires ingenuously. She slips her fingers into Kent’s shirt. He starts to shiver, despite the heat from the fire.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No! Hota’s gone! Hota’s gone forever! I’m in control now, just like you wanted, get me out of here and let’s get naked, quick, quick!” he practically shrieks. It’s getting really hot in here.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Who’s this slut?” Caroline wants to know.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Vixeena, the Dough Babe, remember?” I remind her.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh, Christ.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Now! Vixeena, let’s go!” Kent wants out. The flames start to lick at our feet. We start to cough. But Vixeena seems strangely unaffected.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Hmmmmnnnn?” she purrs musically. “Hota is gone? Vixeena can do as she wishes?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yes! Vixeena! Do anything you want with me, anything! But do it quickly, and get me out of here!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Hey!” Caroline coughs. “What about us too, you rat!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Then Vixeena will do exactly what she wants!” she grins, slipping her hand out of Kent’s shirt and down to his pants. He squirms and moans. “Exactly what she wants ...” There is a very tense moment — then she rushes to Gary and sets him free. “If Hota is gone, Vixeena wants this one now!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What! What about me?” Kent wails.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Vixeena waves him off. “Too old!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Ha!” Caroline exults, but then ends up choking.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Vixeena grabs Gary by the waistband of his pants, dragging him into the smoke towards the secret exit. She stops once to look back and give Kent a little wave. “Bye bye ... sucka!” And they’re gone.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Okay, now I’m beginning to get a wee bit worried,” Patrick concedes, as the remaining six of us start choking harder.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> It’s getting hard to see, as the smoke builds and our eyes water. We’re all coughing hard, pulling back as the flames start to bite at us from the centre of the room. A couple of us still struggle wildly with our bonds, but nothing seems to give …</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Just when I’m about ready to give up, a figure comes charging through the door and down the stairs, carrying something heavy. It’s Henry Henry Henry Henry, carrying a pickaxe! He smashes us loose one by one, starting at the end closest to the door, with Kent. After him go Rodan and Mothra, then Caroline, but she only takes a couple of steps before she collapses to the floor, choking. Henry smashes my manacles, and I grab his arm. “Get her out of here!” I gasp, pointing at Caroline. “I’ll free Patrick!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Henry complies, handing me the pickaxe. He scoops up Caroline and hurries back up the stairs. I whack away at Patrick’s bonds until I get him free. We lean on each other for a second, choking.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Let’s go!” I pant.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Thanks, mate! Owe you one. Gotta save me woman now.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You what —”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Patrick leaps through the flames, disappearing into the smoke, in the general direction of the secret exit. I stare after him, stunned, then realize I need to get the hell out of here. I cover my mouth with my arm and run for the stairs.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “RRRRRAGHHH!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Trent looms up out of the smoke, arms extended, eyes full of rage, still in full Monster mode, cutting me off from any escape. I need to think fast.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Quick! Did <i>It Come From Another World</i>, or was it the <i>Thing From Outer Space</i>?” I demand.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “RRRRRAGHHH? ... Um ... <i>It</i>?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Nope! That’s the thing! You lose!” I clobber him with the blunt end of the pickaxe, knocking him out. Then, using the absolute last of my strength, I drag him up the stairs and try to find my way out of the burning building.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">***</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> The fire has already spread to the main floor of wherever the hell it is we are, and the smoke is incredibly dense. I’m not gonna last much longer — and I don’t know my way out — when I hear some familiar ear-splitting screams coming from my right. Ah! Thank goodness somebody got Rodan and Mothra’s gags off. I drag deadweight Trent over in the direction of the screaming, almost immediately falling through an open door. We’re out! Rodan and Mothra run over to help when they see me — they go off with Trent’s limp body while I fall on the grass, choking and coughing. I finally manage to get most of the carbon I inhaled out of my system, and haul myself unsteadily to my feet. There’s a nice level tree stump not too far away. I go and sit there.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Phew! After that fire and all, boy, do I need a smoke! I pull out my cigarettes, and light up. For some reason, I start coughing again.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Well! What’s going on here, anyway? Moose and Lucky run by. “Hey!” I call. “What happened to Annabeth and Hota? Did everyone get out okay?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “It’s madness! Terrible! An atrocity!” Lucky laments.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “We caught up with them just outside the mansion,” Moose explains, “but when we did, Dr. Hota actually stopped and pushed Lucky down!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And he calls himself a doctor!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Wow,” I sympathize. Are there no limits to the man’s depravity? Bullying butterfly hunters. “What about Dejah Thoris? I mean, Annabeth?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “As soon as Hota let her go, she turned on him and whacked him up the jawbone with those golden handcuffs.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Then she kicked him where — where — where it really hurts. Hard. Twice.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “With those tacky silver scorpion shoes?” I wonder.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yup. Then she jabbed the heel of one of them down into his foot.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You should have heard him squeal.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yeah! So then Hota pushed Lucky down again, because he was in his way, and the crazy guy ran back into the burning mansion!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “With Annabeth?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No! He was trying to get away from Annabeth! You should have heard her swear at him.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “So Hota went back into the mansion?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yeah! Then Patrick came running up out of the smoke, and he and Annabeth started kissing, so we thought we’d better go help Dr. Prufrock with the nudists.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Who wouldn’t? And what exactly was Dr. Prufrock doing with the nudists?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “He came up with a antitoxin that counteracts Hota’s mind control potion, so he was setting their brains free.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “How resourceful.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> We’re interrupted by Prufrock himself suddenly highstepping by yelling “Cover their eyes! Cover their eyes!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Why?” Moose calls in concern. “Are they panicking in the fire? Like horses?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No! They’re naked! And now they realize it! We can’t let them see each other! Cover their eyes! Cover their eyes!” All three of them run off. I look back at the burning mansion. I imagine it was quite the place, not that I got to see much of it, what with being unconscious and all when they carried me in.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I sit, and smoke my cigarette contentedly, taking what I deem to be a well earned rest. At one point, some movement to my left, near the bushes, catches my eye. Oh yeah. There’s Vixeena and Gary, taking off the last of their clothes, then running happily off hand in hand into the forest, buck naked. Hota may be perishing in the flames even as they skip off together, but his spirit lives on.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I stub out my cigarette, and haul myself up. Time to go look for Caroline. Or at least for a few of those Lost Lagoon Zombie nubile nudists.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">***</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> A week later, for some reason, while I’m waiting for Caroline to finish packing up her car so she can drive me back to the city, I’m left standing alone with Kent. Some real authorities showed up finally, took care of the fire before it spread to the woods, determined that they could not find Hota’s body, and returned all the newly unbrainwashed Zombie nudists to their proper homes. Then they sent out a search party for Vixeena and Gary, but I don’t suppose we’re going to find those two again in a hurry.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Which really gets up Wesley’s nose.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I don’t understand this!” he laments for the umpteenth time. “Patrick ends up with Annabeth, fine. I can accept that. Trent even goes off with Rodan and Mothra and Dr. Prufrock for some kind of rehabilitation treatment, I can even accept that!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Sort of like B-Movie Monsters Anonymous?” I wonder. “RRRRRAGHHH! My name is Trent. And I’m a cheesy Gillman-ripoff in a rubber suit.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “But Vixeena rejected me! For Gary! Why would she do that, after everything she told me?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Because you’re too old,” I remind him. “She was just leading you on.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “But what about your cousin Caroline?” he demands. “I always sort of, kind of, had my eye on her. And I thought she liked me. What about her?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “She’s gone off with Henry Henry Henry Henry. One of them, anyway.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Why!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Because when push came to shove, he saved her, and you didn’t.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Women!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Go figure.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And now, not only is Gary gone with the girl I should have got, Gary is gone!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What, both of him?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “So I’m left alone, without a girl, running this stupid resort by myself, with nothing to keep me company but a goddamn sixteen foot tall plaster woodtick named Woody!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> A better man would see the publicity opportunities in all this. “Ah well,” I console him. “Must be something in the water in these parts, eh?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “All I ever wanted to do was make movies! Now I’m totally behind the eight ball, and I don’t know what to do! How’m I supposed to turn this ridiculous situation around?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Well — you could always go the ‘way of Hota’, and open a nudist colony of your own. There’s a vacancy in the area, now that the mad doctor’s supposedly gone. You have the facilities. ... Kent. Kent! I was joking! Kent — come back here! Kent, put your pants back on this instant! Kent —”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4UyU0NTYiQo/VdSBC7cLiFI/AAAAAAAAELI/NLw0ZUsNYMQ/s1600/IMG_0273%2B-%2BVersion%2B2%2Bcontrast%2BFKR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4UyU0NTYiQo/VdSBC7cLiFI/AAAAAAAAELI/NLw0ZUsNYMQ/s400/IMG_0273%2B-%2BVersion%2B2%2Bcontrast%2BFKR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Photography by Renee Beaubien, at <i>Beyond the Prism</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>on Flickr, at:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>The Big Mosquito</i></b> continues, with postings number 4 and 5 of 49, Monday August 17th and Friday, August 21st. As always, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s the old naked-girl-jumping-out-of-a-cake-with-a-machine-gun routine!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Featuring:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>6. meanwhile, Eddie sees something he shouldn’t</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>7. in counseling</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>8. surprise!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>9. clandestine dreaming</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Sink Decomposition Series</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">by Fandango Moberly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">#6 of 50</span></div>
Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-16257837942341780492015-08-12T04:52:00.002-07:002015-08-12T04:52:47.811-07:00Lost Lagoon of Dr. Hota Two<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>A little background material to </i>The Big Mosquito<i>.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>A Jason Midnight and His Cousin Caroline short mystery</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>from </i>Slow Left Turn At Midnight<i>.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Copyright 2006 by John H. Baillie</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>The Lost Lagoon of Dr. Hota</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Part Two</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> We thrash around in the bush for half an hour or so, but it’s hopeless. It’s blacker than a B-movie villain’s heart out here. So we go back to the cabins finally, and try to regroup.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I rather regret to admit this, given the circumstances, but I suspect I may have an explanation for our so-called ‘monster’,” Prufrock confesses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “It’s a man in a rubber suit, isn’t it?” Henry Henry asks, confused again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, Henry. That other item I mentioned to you.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh. Ohhh-hh …" Henry gets it. But we don’t. Yet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Spill, Doc,” I say.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yeah,” Gary says with a huge grin. “What’s up, Doc?” He laughs like hell. “Get it? Get it?” Rodan and Mothra scream. Kent whaps Gary across the back of the head.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Get serious! That weirdo carried off one of my customers.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Ow! No, he didn’t! Annabeth owns her own place!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “That’s right! I’m not liable!” Wesley is overjoyed. Caroline whaps him across the back of the head. “What was that for!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Annabeth’s our friend! We still have to find and rescue her.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “All right, all right. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help ... geez.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Doctor?” I try to bring us back to the point here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Prufrock finishes re-lighting his pipe, then starts on his story. “A colleague of mine runs a lunatic asylum not very far from here. He recently contacted me to let me know that one of the male inmates had escaped.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Wesley is flabbergasted. “And you didn’t think to mention this till now!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Prufrock is unflappable. “Up until now, we’ve been operating under the assumption that we’ve been dealing with some strange, aquatic hybrid monster, not a mad human being. There was no reason to make the connection.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Maybe not in your mind. But —”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Uh, excuse me?” Patrick politely interrupts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What!” Wesley is not so gracious.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “That escaped madman? Uh ... that would be me, then.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh, good,” Prufrock declares. “Clears that up …"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You’re an escaped madman?” Caroline asks Patrick cautiously, as Wesley is too stunned to speak. I knew there was something about this guy I liked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I prefer the term ‘lunatic’,” Patrick replies genially. “I like to check meself into an institution whenever there’s a full moon. Just to be sure. It’s in the blood, y’know? Normally, I’m pretty good about checking meself out again as well, but it must have slipped my mind this time. I just dodged out the window, when I had the chance. Sorry to cause any alarm,” he apologizes to Dr. Prufrock.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Prufrock waves him off. “Nonsense. No harm done.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Wesley looks like he’s ready to erupt again, but Gary cuts him off with a surprisingly pertinent remark. “So if this guy is the escaped madman ... then who was the guy in the rubber suit who carried off Annabeth?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Good question,” I agree. “And what are we going to do about it?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Not to worry.” Patrick gives us a particularly charming smile. “I’ve got us a plan.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> By midmorning the next day, I realize what we’re up to is possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever been involved with, and that’s saying a lot. Patrick, Kent and I are out God knows where someplace in the bush, with Humphrey the giant toad on his leash trying to track down Annabeth and the Monster-guy, Trent. “I’m starting to think this is a really bad idea,” I declare.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> And it’s getting hotter, and stickier, and stupid Wesley walking in front of me keeps letting go of branches so they whap me in the face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Now, now, Jason,” Patrick reprimands me, in the lead with Humphrey. “That’s what everyone else said. Have some faith.” Patrick’s proudly wearing a huge floppy straw sombrero that belongs to Annabeth, decorated with big blue fake flowers. Brought it along so Humphrey could follow the scent, so he claims.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You know, all this reminds me of my three all-time favourite movies,” Wesley announces out of the blue, like we care. “The utter surreality of it all.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Surrealism,” I correct.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “That too. Maybe this is good for me. I have to build on this, become a better person for it. Use it in my work. My calling.” Whap! Another tree branch in the face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “There are easier ways to self-improvement,” I mutter darkly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “One day, I can make a movie out of this. A tour de force possibly even to rival <i>The Creature From the Black Lagoon</i>, <i>It Came From Outer Space</i>, and <i>The Thing From Another World</i>. The original, of course. The black and white one.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I thought they were all black and white to you. And I also note, none of those movies were directed by Roger Corman,” I point out, gasping. I can’t take this heat! Did we think to pack water? No-o-o. Real toad-stalkers don’t pack water.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I reluctantly gave up my trenchcoat for a short sleeved shirt and no tie, but this is still too much. Those nudists have got the right idea.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oho! I think Humphrey’s onto something,” Patrick asserts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “That’s the seventeenth time you’ve said that,” I remind him. And I have been keeping count.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> This is ridiculous. We’re miles from civilization, getting farther away every step. Gallows Falls is north of the Whiteshell Provincial Park, on the eastern border of Manitoba abutting Ontario. Another reason it draws such lousy resort business, all the action is south and east of here, along Highways Number One and Two. There’s probably one park ranger for the surrounding three hundred miles. By the time they muster a search party to find us and the stupid toad, we’ll starve to death. If the toad doesn’t eat us first. And then the search party will get lost, and there’ll be nobody left in Gallows Falls to go out looking for them, and that’ll be the end of the entire settlement — </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Aye up! Humph’s on the trail now! He’s after something!” Patrick shouts. And sure enough, the damn amphibian’s making some kind of grunting noise and showing more animation than I’ve seen him demonstrate yet — most of the time I feel like we’re just following a damn ugly lawn ornament.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Patrick, you idiot!” I yell after him as he disappears, crashing through the undergrowth. “Be careful! We don’t know the terrain around here, we can’t go running off blindly, we might — AARRGHH!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Oh, lay off with the frigging cosmic irony, whoever’s in charge here! Sure, I’m the one giving the warning, so I’m the one who falls off the fifteen foot high rock outcropping. I crumple into a heap of brambles at the bottom — particularly scratchy brambles. “Hey! Help! Assistance, please, some assistance down here, please! ... At least send down the friggin’ rescue toad with a keg of draft, willya!” Oh brother. Got myself into this, I guess I’ll just have to get myself out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I painfully detach myself from bramble after bramble after bramble, noting how many burrs I’m picking up in the process, then start clambering up the rocks back to where I was. God, this is puffing me out! Don’t mess with Nature in Canada, Nature always wins, it’s part of our national consciousness for Christ’s sake. I’m not built for this, I’m from the city, dammit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I haul one arm and then my head up and over the top and pause, completely out of breath. Whoa! What’s happening here?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Patrick and Humphrey are nowhere to be seen, but Kent is standing five feet away with a wild, exotic female, dressed in some kind of skimpy jungle two piece, leaning up against his chest on both arms and staring appealingly up into his terror-filled eyes, her mouth sensuously open. She has a mane of wild black hair, and strange, almond shaped eyes. I bet she’d look really hot even in black and white. Oh wait a sec. This must be the Pillsbury Doe Girl.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You not like Hota,” she says in this husky, sex-filled voice. Caroline did mention something about her awkward speech pattern. “Hota not let Vixeena be as she likes. Hota makes Vixeena wear these.” She tugs at her halter top. Wesley lets out a little squeak. “Vixeena needs to be free, but Hota not allow. You — you can stop Hota. You are strong.” She runs her fingers up and down his chest. Wesley shivers as if it’s forty below, not forty above. “You — come with Vixeena! Stop Hota! Then Vixeena can be free, like the others, but not head-washed like them too. Not zombies. Naked, but dead in head.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Sounds like one of my many bad dates. What’s she referring to? Now we’ve got naked zombies to cope with too?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You — come now. Come with Vixeena. Stop Hota! Stop Hota forever. Then — Vixeena can be naked too. And — perhaps you can be naked with Vixeena!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I’ve heard enough. “Ahem!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Wesley screams, which surprises me so much, I lose my grip and go tumbling back down into the brambles — double frigging AARGHH. By the time I can haul myself up again, twice as exhausted, scratched and dented, Vixeena is gone, and Patrick and Humphrey are back. Wesley sits on a log, hyperventilating and saying “Omigod! Omigod! Omigod!” over and over again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Jason, lad! I thought you’d had an accident. Where’ve you been? What’s wrong with Kent?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Give me a hand,” I gasp. I’d hate to experience what Patrick considers to be a genuine accident. Patrick ties Humphrey to a tree and rushes over. He helps me up. “Now,” I pant, “give me that fallen branch there — the thick one.” Patrick gets me the branch. I prop myself up with it, until I get enough breath back. Then I break the branch over Kent’s head. That gets his attention. He jumps off the log. I push him backwards over the edge of the outcropping I just clambered up, down into the brambles. Kent yells blue murder. “That’ll wake him up,” I tell Patrick. “Now — that’s enough, I think. No more toad stalking. How do we get out of here?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Depends. Where are we?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hours later, the three of us crawl gasping, scratched and torn out of the bushes. Everyone rushes to help. Rodan and Mothra scream.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “My God, guys!” Henry Henry is appalled. “What happened? Did you have to fight the Monster? I mean, Trent? Where’s Annabeth? What happened!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I lean against a tree. “No, we didn’t fight the stupid monster, we got lost! We did fight each other a few times though, trying to decide which direction to go.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Thankfully, the sun finally started to set, so we all agreed that must be west. Which was very helpful. Until we realized none of us knew which compass point the cabins were in.” Patrick said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Smart ass,” Kent grumbles, lying flat on his back in the grass. Summer is dangerous, in this climate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “We fluked it off eventually, by process of elimination.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “But did you save Annabeth?” Mothra wants to know. “Did Uncle Humph — I mean, the toad, lead you straight to her, like you thought he would?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I shake my head. “Not a glimpse,” I admit wearily.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “That’s all right,” Prufrock mutters, around the pipe in his mouth he’s busy lighting again. “Here she comes now.” He nods towards the lake.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Hurray!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Even Patrick, Kent and I manage to scramble up to run down to the water’s edge to greet her — to greet them, actually. It’s Annabeth and Gary in a canoe, with Annabeth doing all the paddling. She looks a little disheveled, but none the worse for wear, unlike the toad-stalking party. Gary, though, he looks like he’s seen a ghost or something. He sits ramrod straight in the front of the canoe, totally frozen, gibbering something inarticulate over and over, a glazed look in his eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “My goodness. The boy appears to be in shock,” Prufrock remarks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “How did Gary end up with Annabeth?” I want to know. “And when did a canoe enter the picture?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Gary went out in it shortly after you three left on that ridiculous hunt of yours,” Caroline tells me. “He decided he was going to search some of the streams and inlets into the forest that he knew. He must have found Annabeth.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> The prow of the canoe grinds onto the sand. Moose and Lucky haul it up. Henry tries to get Gary out, while Rodan and Mothra rush to help Annabeth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I’m okay! I’m okay! You can leave me alone!” Annabeth protests. But she doesn’t object when Patrick takes her hand and leads her carefully onto the beach. “God, what a night. What a day!” She looks totally exasperated.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What happened?” Caroline wants to know. “What’s wrong with Gary?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Ohh, brother …" Annabeth can’t face us. She has to look away for a moment. When she turns back, she’s bright pink, and it isn’t from sunburn. “This is all so embarrassing. Last night, when that guy — Trent? Carried me off? He made it about fifty yards into the bush before his adrenalin ran out and he collapsed beneath me. I jumped up, and tried to find my way back here, but I got turned around in the dark and I ended up getting lost in the forest. Finally I just gave up. I sat down beside this stream and cried, and then I must have fallen asleep. I slept and I slept. The next thing I knew, there was Gary coming up the stream in a canoe, yelling at me. Great! I thought. Rescue! But then we got lost again, this time on the water. Everything connects to everything else around here on the Shield you know, and we ended up going deeper and deeper into the forest …"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> She pauses for breath. Gary is sitting on a stump now, staring into space, his eyes bulging wide open, going “Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh” over and over. Dr. Prufrock checks his pulse, with a critical eye. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And then,” Annabeth continues, “we found it.” She stops. We wait. Nothing. Caroline snaps.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Found what!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Annabeth looks around at us, her gaze intense. “The Lost Lagoon ... of Dr. Hota. It does exist. And …"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And what?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Annabeth blushes bright red. “They are nudists. It was too much for Gary. There they all were, standing motionless on the shore, staring at us silently, like zombies. Every one of them stark naked. Girls, and …" Her eyes drop again. If possible, she blushes even more deeply. “Boys,” she finishes, her voice cracking.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Rodan and Mothra scream.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Will you quit that!” Annabeth snaps, embarrassed. “It’s really annoying. It was just too freaky. Gary went all horny and whacked out like this, so I had to paddle us away. I found my way back in about forty minutes. Somebody get a pail of cold water and dump it over him.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">***</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Annabeth doesn’t think she can find her way back to the lagoon. It’s an absolute maze of streams and bogs and marshy acres out in that bush.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “That’s bad,” I say.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “How come? Do we really want to find them again?” Kent demands.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I’m not certain. But they saw Annabeth and Gary, seeing them. And they don’t know Annabeth can’t find her way back. It they’re really intent on secrecy, they might want to find us again.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Patrick, Kent, Annabeth and I have a quick dip in the lake to cool off, then something to eat. The bucket of water over Gary’s head did the trick for him. He’s still yelling and over-excited, but that’s practically normal behaviour. Nobody can settle in after the excitement, but we do get the toad back in his usual glassed-in enclosure at least. Prufrock, Kent, Gary, Annabeth and I somehow end up together just after dark in the common grassy yard behind the cabins Wesley rents, just up from the beach and where we fought Trent last night.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Do you really think those weirdos will come after Gary and Annabeth?” Kent demands. The cool swim didn’t calm the guy down at all.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I take a seat on the flat top part of a wooden picnic table and light a cigarette. “I don’t know for sure. I suspect you could tell me more about that than I can tell you, Kent. How many times have you met with Vixeena?” We didn’t really talk about Kent’s “brief encounter” while we were lost in the woods, because we were all too mad at each other already.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I’ve never seen that woman before in my life! ... Not more than once or twice.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “How many times?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Okay, six times altogether, but this is only the third time she talked to me.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “When was the first time she talked to you? Just before the Monster appeared?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yes! How did you know that?” Kent is amazed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “It makes sense in a bad horror movie sort of way. You talk to Vixeena, wild girl daughter of Dr. Hota. Vixeena obviously has plans for you, to help her against Hota somehow. A Monster appears, and starts trying to carry off your guests. Someone’s trying to warn you off, Wesley.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Ah! But Annabeth isn’t one of my guests!” Kent declares in triumph.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I shrug. “Half the time you can’t remember that. How’s the poor Monster supposed to know the difference? She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Okay! I admit it all! Vixeena is in love with me! Today isn’t the first time I’ve got lost in the forest. I do it practically weekly, actually, I’ve got no sense of direction —”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I noticed.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “She told me her father won’t let her be free, that he imposes all kinds of unnatural restrictions on her! Like making her wear clothes.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “The beast.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Vixeena wants the freedom the other members of Hota’s weird colony enjoy, except she says they’re not really free. She says Hota controls their minds somehow, so they can’t feel or think for themselves!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Zombie nudists. It does get better and better.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I don’t want anything to do with her! She scares the hell out of me! And she wants me to kill Hota or something — she keeps on telling me I could take Hota’s place and run the colony myself!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “She obviously isn’t familiar with your vacation resort management skills.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I just want her to stay away from me!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Extraordinary,” Prufrock remarks. “But how does this explain the Monster? Trent, from the Lost Lagoon.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Obviously a lagoon inhabitant who’s jealous of Vixeena’s attentions towards Kent,” I surmise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “But why the masquerade as a Monster? Assuming it was a masquerade.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Are you kidding? Mad Doctor? Lost Lagoon? Exotic Wild Girl? Zombie Nudists? Why not a Monster?” I protest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Hey!” Gary interrupts, grabbing Kent’s arm. “This sounds like one of those movies you’re always going on about. You know. <i>The Creature From Outer Space</i>, <i>The Thing From the Lost Lagoon</i>, <i>It Came From Another World</i>, those ones.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, no, no!” Kent yells. “You always get them wrong! Have some respect for the metier I’ve devoted my life and all my aspirations toward! <i>The Creature From the Black Lagoon</i>, <i>The Thing From Another World</i>, and <i>It Came From Outer Space</i>!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “So the thing is, it’s not from the <i>Lost Lagoon</i>?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “<i>Thing From Another World</i>, <i>It</i>’s from <i>Outer Space</i>, and the <i>Creature</i>’s from the <i>Black Lagoon</i>!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “It’s from the <i>Black Lagoon</i>?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “The <i>Creature</i> is from the <i>Black Lagoon</i>, It<i> Came From Outer Space</i>!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “So what’s <i>From Another World</i>?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “<i>The Thing</i>! <i>The Thing</i>!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “But the thing is, it’s the <i>Black Lagoon</i>, and the <i>Creature</i>’s from where again?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “The <i>Thing</i> is <i>From</i> — <i>ANOTHER WORLD</i>! The <i>Creature</i>’s from the <i>Black Lagoon</i>! And <i>It Came From Outer Space</i>!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Kent’s shrieking now. He looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel or two in his brain. Rodan walks onto the scene just at that moment. Bad timing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What’s from another world? The Creature? I thought his name was Trent, and he came from the Lost Lagoon.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “NOT WHAT!” Kent’s lost it. “<i>THE THING</i>! <i>THE THING</i> IS FROM <i>ANOTHER WORLD</i>!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What thing?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I think he means <i>It</i>,” Gary says to her.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, not what, <i>It</i>. That’s the thing.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Kent screams, grabs Gary around the throat and chokes him with both hands. “I don’t care if the Zombies are trying to kill you! I’m going to kill you myself!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Rodan screams. I jump off the picnic table and try to haul Wesley off Gary. I’m dimly aware of a familiar “RRRRRAGHHH!” behind me, and a shriek from Annabeth I barely hear over Rodan screaming in my ear. I finally pry Kent loose and throw him sprawling onto the grass. Gary falls into Rodan’s arms, gasping and clutching his neck.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Geez, what a grouch!” he rasps.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I look around. No Annabeth. “What happened!” I demand from Prufrock, who has continued to stand there calmly smoking his pipe throughout all this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “It was the most amazing thing. Trent, wearing only his swim trunks, came stalking out of the undergrowth as soon as he saw we were distracted. He still acted precisely like the Monster, even though he wasn’t wearing the rubber suit. He has obviously been completely engulfed in his Bestial Persona. Fascinating. He used this opportunity to abduct Annabeth once more. You know, I really think we must acknowledge that he has a far keener intelligence than we’ve given him credit for to date.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I’m aghast. “And you just stood there watching?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “It was an admirable opportunity to make accurate observations of the Beast in action. I owe it to Science not to interfere.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I barely restrain from interfering with Prufrock’s nose with my right fist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Everyone else charges in at that moment, having been drawn to the scene by Rodan’s racket. Kent gets back on his feet. Moose, Lucky, Mothra, Caroline, Patrick, Henry Henry Henry, everybody wants to know what’s going on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> So, naturally, now that we’re all together in one big group, the Zombies choose that moment to attack.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> They come shambling up out of the lake itself, from the forest on either side of us, and from every direction but the cabins themselves. At first they’re silent, but then we hear it, an ominous chant starting quietly then growing louder, louder, louder.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “ho-ta ... ho-ta ... ho-ta ... Ho-ta ... Ho-ta ... HO-ta ... HO-ta ... HO-TA! HO-TA! <i>HO-TA</i>!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> They stare at us with empty, malevolent, vacant eyes. And every single one of them is buck naked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> We all scream.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Then they’re among us, trying to overcome us, trying to carry us off. We fight back desperately, but it looks like there’s too many of them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Flee! Flee for your lives!” Prufrock yells. Finally got his attention, I see.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Fight!” I yell. “They’re naked! Aim for the obvious!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “The obvious what?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Caroline, this is one time you should be able to figure it out for yourself!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Good thing it’s really, really dark out here. These Zombies all seem to be of the well-buffed teenage variety — that might really be distracting in better light. I kick out, lash out, hit out, the Zombies go rolling off me. All right! “WOOOO!” Who’s the man? I do a little quick step, stylin’ and profilin’, and some smartass Zombie clobbers me over the back of the head with a tree branch. I have time to think “ouch,” before oblivion sets in yet again …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>(to be continued …)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Photography by Renee Beaubien, at <b><i>Beyond the Prism</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">on Flickr, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>The Big Mosquito</i></b> continues, with postings number 2 and 3 of 49, Monday August 10th and Friday, August 14th. As always, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A dinner party, and a visit to the offices of Sturgeon’s Eyeblink Studios. Plus I told you Victor Coffin was going to be in it, didn’t I?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Featuring:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>2. six is a good number</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3. senseless diary</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>4. unfinished press release, from the desk of Victor Coffin</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>5. on the set</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Sink Decomposition Series</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">by Fandango Moberly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">#4 of 50</span></div>
Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-64477186802403451092015-08-05T05:25:00.002-07:002015-08-05T05:25:47.664-07:00Dr. Hota part one<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>A little background material to </i>The Big Mosquito<i>.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>A Jason Midnight and His Cousin Caroline short mystery</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>from </i>Slow Left Turn At Midnight<i>.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Copyright 2006 by John H. Baillie </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Lost Lagoon of Doctor Hota</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Part One</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I don’t know what the official dictionary definition of nubile is, but I certainly know what the word means to me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> My definition gambols happily all about me at the moment, in ample female number, as I lie here peacefully on the beach with my cousin Caroline, my darting eyes safely concealed behind black sunglasses. I could quite enjoy myself here in the sun, if it wasn’t for the monster and all the other weirdness Caroline is laying on me. I force myself to pay attention to what she’s saying. For one thing, I really have to make certain she really said what I think she just said.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “A giant toad? You’re sure about that?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yep,” Caroline assures me. She also wears big round dark sunglasses, and a floppy enormous blue hat, a green one-piece bathing suit, and a thin peasant skirty type thing over her legs. She’s pretending to read War and Peace like she does every summer, while she lies on her blanket and watches all the young guys go by in their tight bathing suits. “She takes it out for a walk every night after dark. Creeps you right out the first time you see it. Every time you see it, actually.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I contemplate the image. Takes it out for a walk? “How giant a toad are we talking about? Define giant.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Big enough to need a leash.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Where the hell do you buy a toad leash?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “But not so big it could swallow a cat or something. At least — I don’t think it could swallow a cat. It’s about the size of a cocker spaniel. A really big, fat, ugly cocker spaniel.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And this toad is the monster you called me out here to investigate?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No no, the toad’s an example of some exotic species from the Amazon Rain Forest or something — just be thankful it’s not a cockroach. The monster comes out after midnight, and it’s terrorizing Annabeth’s and Kent’s cabins. Which includes mine, because I’m renting from Kent, which is why I called you out here because this monster’s annoying me, and I’m supposed to be on holiday for the first time since God knows when. Canadians don’t take enough holidays, you know that? There have been studies. In many ways, we’re still a very backwards people.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You get what you pay for,” I caution her.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yeah, I know it’s a super deluxe cut-rate cabin resort, way out in the bush miles from anywhere, but it’s all I can afford during the high season. Besides, the beach is nice.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Three more girls in bikinis bounce by. “Yup. The beach is nice. But it’s the name, you know, more than anything. I just can’t see a resort called ‘Gallows Falls’ really taking off in any season. So Annabeth’s the one with the toad?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yeah, and she’s certainly embarrassed by it. It belongs to her mother, who’s some kind of scientist, and Annabeth’s saddled with looking after it during the summer while her mother’s off on some wild expedition somewhere. That’s why she only walks it after dark.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Two young ladies, shorter and less buxom than the last trio, laughingly draw a line in the sand right in front of Caroline’s and my blanket and get ready to play badminton between us and the lake. The slightly taller one calls hello to Caroline, who waves back.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “That’s Rodan and Mothra,” Caroline explains. “They’re renting the place next to mine.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Rodan and Mothra?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Not their real names. They’re vacationing incognito. Rodan’s the taller one, the one posing like a dancer for some inexplicable reason, in the pyjama pants and bikini halter? The one in the white tee-shirt and white bikini bottom is Mothra. I think she’s got some kind of muscular disease, which is why she’s so skinny, and sticks her chest out like that.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I noticed. Why are they ‘vacationing incognito’?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Hey. I respect their privacy, they respect mine. They saw the monster — Thursday night. God, you should have heard the screaming.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Okay, let me get this monster stuff straight. What is it they saw? Not the toad.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No. The monster.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I caught that part. What does this monster look like?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Like some guy in a tacky rubber suit from some bad fifties horror movie. It looks vaguely amphibious, vaguely reptilian. It’s got big yellow eyes, bulging of course, it’s kind of a dark green all over with lime overtones and it leaves big, clawed, flipperish tracks in the sand. I’ve seen the tracks, but not the monster. And it goes ‘RRRRRAGHHH!’ a lot.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “RRARRGHH?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No — ‘RRRRRAGHHH!’. I did hear it. Even though I didn’t see it. According to the girls and the other witnesses, it stomps around going ‘RRRRRAGHHH!’ and trying to carry off people. It walks really stiffly, with its front claws out like this. ‘RRRRRAGHHH!’”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Caroline imitates, wiggling on her butt and sticking her arms out Frankenstein-like in front of her. A badminton birdie bounces off my head.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Sorry!” Rodan — no, Mothra — scurries up and picks the birdie up off the blanket. “Oh, cool! Are you doing the monster?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “RRRRRAGHHH!” Caroline lunges at her.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Mothra sticks out her claws and returns the gesture. “RRRRRAGHHH!” Not to be outdone, Rodan stalks stiff-legged up behind Mothra, grabs her around the waist, lifts her off the ground with a “RRRRRAGHHH!” of her own and an ear splitting shriek from Mothra, and tries to carry her off back to the badminton line in the sand. But they fall over and now they’re both screaming, but I think it’s supposed to be laughter.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I see panic has overrun the scene,” I comment to Caroline.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Chill out, we’re on holiday. Give us a break. You’re lucky I even phoned you about this.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I am?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Caroline’s counting on her fingers. How she’s managed to run her own successful textile store for the last ten years is a mystery to me. “So that makes seven — no, six — no, seven! Seven people who have actually seen the monster in all.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Seven people have seen this thing, and you call me in to get rid of it? Why not the cops? Or at least the forest rangers, or whoever. If you’ve got that much verification.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Get real. Who’s gonna believe a whacko story like this? Only a total nutcase would investigate something like this, a real lunatic, someone without any kind of grip on reality at all.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Okay, I get the point. Me or no one. So who’re these seven witnesses?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Annabeth. Rodan. Mothra.” She’s counting them off on her fingers, one by one, to be certain. “Kent Wesley, the guy I’m renting the cabin from. Dr. Prufrock — ”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Dr. Prufrock?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Don’t interrupt, this is hard. Henry Henry, his assistant — ”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Does that count as one or two?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “One — who’m I forgetting? What am I up to?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “How should I know?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> She does a rapid recount. “That’s — oh, and Lucky Levesque and Moose Norwood. That’s all seven.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I hold my head. Sigh. “Eight, Caroline. That makes eight.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Get out! One, two — oh, shit. Okay. Eight witnesses then, and I personally have heard the beast and seen its tracks.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Two old guys wander up in hideous coloured shorts and ask Rodan and Mothra if they can join them in the game. “That’s Lucky and Moose,” Caroline explains. “They’re butterfly hunters from New England, and they’re renting the cabin on the other side of me from Rodan and Mothra.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> The birdie comes straight for my nose — I dodge just in time. “They’re also really godawful badminton players. Who’re the other three guys you mentioned, Prufrock, Henry Henry Henry, and Wesley Kent?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Two Henrys. Henry Henry and Wesley Kent. I mean, Kent Wesley. Look. Let’s call him Kent.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And we’ll just call Henry Henry. ... I mean — ”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I know what you mean. Dr. Prufrock is a nuclear physicist and also holds degrees in genetics research, and Henry is his rugged, crewcut assistant. Henry does all the heavy lifting. Prufrock’s kind of boring, but Henry’s fun.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I can’t stop myself. I sigh again. “And they’re vacationing here too? Or are they investigating nuclear radioactively induced genetic mutations, like the other two guys are butterfly hunting?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You know, I never thought to ask. It’s hard to tell, with Prufrock.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “That’s okay. Tell me about Kent Wesley. Or is it — ”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, it’s Kent. Kent is slightly older than me, kind of handsome, in a gravelly, stretched out kind of way, and he’s a frustrated movie director who’s trying to eke out a living renting cabins in the Gallows Falls cottage resort. He’s very high strung, but in a manically appealing kind of way. He got hit on the head as a child, and now suffers from a rare sight disorder that causes him to see the world only in black and white and the occasional shade of grey.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Let me guess. He was the first one to see the monster.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yeah! How did you know?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I’m good at what I do.” I know a whacko when I hear one described to me. “That’s also why you called me, remember. Is there anyone else I should know about?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yeah — Gary. He hasn’t actually seen the monster yet. He works for Kent. Gary’s kind of a nerdy teenager who likes to race ATVs up and down Devil’s Gully late at night. He’s the one who came up with the idea for the resort mascot, and built it with his own hands — the big one out in front of the cabins? You couldn’t have missed it. It’s supposed to be a roadside attraction, drawing attention to the resort.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “‘Woody, the Sixteen-Foot Woodtick’? I bet he just reels them in.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Hey! Woody keeps the rates down, as far as I’m concerned.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You got the hots for Wesley?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I’d jump his bones in a second, if he gave me the chance. I told you he’s high strung.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Look out — “ Incoming birdy again, followed by incoming Rodan, who lands face down on the blanket, wildly waving her racket. Mothra screams. Jee-sus, that’s annoying. Rodan runs off, laughing. Good thing she’s cute.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “So, we have four sort of scientists who’ve seen this monster,” I get back to Caroline. “What’s their explanation for what it is? Especially the genetics expert. He must think something.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yup. But he goes along with the general opinion. If there’s something weird happening at Gallows Falls, it’s because of Dr. Hota.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh God, not another mad scientist.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh no. The other guys aren’t mad, they’re just on holiday — maybe. Well not really. Well I don’t know. But I do know that Hota is — or was — definitely mad.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And what’s the basis for this unarguable fact?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Everyone says so.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “ ... Well, there you go.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You see, Dr. Hota’s family used to run a Christian Revival Sun Camp somewhere around here in the 1930s and 40s. But when Dr. Hota inherited the camp, he turned it into a medical research centre combined with a nudist colony.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “ ... All right, he is mad.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “‘Dr. Hota’s Naturalist Resort for Decent Young Men and Women’, it was called. Is called. You see, rumours are, it still exists. It’s for young men and women, ages eighteen to twenty-two, to prove to themselves they can co-exist naked and if they’re pure enough in thought, nothing — untoward — will happen between them. It was meant to be some kind of psychological-sociological grand experiment.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “That definitely would raise the tension in the area. Eighteen to twenty-two year old boys, living with naked women the same age, and nothing’s going to happen? The guy wasn’t mad, he was nuts. What happened to this camp?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No one’s ever found it. Apparently, it was populated by invitation only, so its location has never been widely circulated, as no one in Gallows Falls itself was ever deemed worthy of admission. It’s supposed to be located at some lagoon out in the bush somewhere, only accessible by canoe. Popular belief is that the camp still exists, and maybe Hota himself is still running it as well, because there have been periodic sightings of Vixeena in the forest during the last three years.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Vixeena?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “The Doe-Girl.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What, like the Pillsbury Dough Boy? This is too much. Some pale skinned, fat white chick in a chef’s hat running naked through the jungle?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No! Doe! Doe!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Who you calling a dodo?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “D-O-E! Not dough. Doe. The Doe Girl. Vixeena. She’s Dr. Hota’s wild girl daughter.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Stolen at birth by a band of mercenary chipmunks and raised by a deer in the forest, that kind of wild girl? The prairie Tarzan type, as opposed to the pregnant-at-thirteen type wild girl?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No one knows Vixeena’s true origins,” Caroline says ominously. “But she’s a wild one — an exotic appearing, black-maned creature with alluring eyes and an awkward speech pattern. And I think Kent’s secretly in love with her. Drives me nuts.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “She’s nude too? That would explain his attraction to her.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, she wears some kind of jungle bikini. Pretty skimpy apparently, but it does cover the essentials.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “This is nuts. We’re in the Canadian Shield here, not on some tropical Island of Dr. Moreau. She’d freeze to death in the winter. Or in the fall and spring, even. For that matter, so would all the other nudists.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Which is proof that Dr. Hota must still be alive and up to his deranged machinations somewhere in the forest then, right? He obviously has some kind of no doubt impressive all weather mansion and laboratory at that lagoon, where the ferile nudists and his mad daughter Vixeena take shelter for the winter.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Ferile’s not a word. You mean feral.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Who’re you calling a mean feral? I am not!” Caroline’s irate.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, I mean — oh, never mind. You started it. So what does some whacko mad doctor, his crazy exotic daughter, and a bunch of naked but spiritually tight-assed teens have to do with this monster in a rubber suit lurking around terrorizing the Gallows Falls’ beach resort?” Wow. It was good to get that out.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Since Vixeena and the nudists can’t survive on their own, Dr. Hota must still be running things at the Lost Lagoon. And if he’s still in charge, he’s obviously still carrying out mad experiments. It’s his metier, right?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You know metier, but you don’t know feral?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Never mind. The Monster of Gallows Falls Beach must be the result of one of those experiments. It has escaped, and is now trying to carry off more young men and women to join the tight-assed nudist colony.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I stare at her. “And you came up with this all by yourself?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, I had help. There are some very educated people staying at the resort this year, you know. Dr. Prufrock, and Henry Henry and Lucky and Moose, and Kent of course, and Annabeth and her toad all think that that’s the likeliest interpretation of events. We came up with the theory together. Well, the toad didn’t actually contribute much, but —”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> The birdy lands right between us, and Rodan slams down on top of it a moment later, followed by Mothra. Screaming, of course. By the time we get rid of them, to my own regret I’ve come up with a plan. Caroline’s still focused on my last recorded statement of doubt.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You don’t believe me, do you? You, of all people, don’t believe me. How do you have the nerve not to believe me, with all the crap you’ve expected me to accept over the years? I’ve seen and heard this monster myself! Its footprints, anyway. How can —”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Hold on, hold on. You chill out. I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. I just implied you sound like a crazy person, telling a story like that.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Apology accepted. So — what are we gonna do?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I’m going to need a really big net. And lots of help. Get the boys and girls together, and tell ‘em Jason Midnight’s leading them on a monster hunt tonight.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “So what if all the evidence does lead back to this lost nudist colony at this weird lagoon?” she asks. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “We’ll have to infiltrate it and find out what’s really going on, naturally. Go undercover.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “How do you go undercover at a nudist colony?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>***</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I’m out behind Caroline’s cabin just before sunset, checking out the fishnets strung together that Caroline’s buddy, Kent, got for me. Caroline and Kent are out rounding up the rest of the volunteers, as we prepare for the night’s ambush. A tall, lanky looking guy in white pants and a well-lived in blue shirt comes up and stares over my shoulder at what I’m doing. Haven’t seen him before. I try to go on with what I’m doing nonchalantly, as if there’s nothing out of the ordinary happening here. I really don’t want to have to explain myself.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What’re you doing, then?” the fellow asks. He’s got a lilting sort of Irish accent.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Uh ... getting a net ready.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh. Yeah. You would be, then.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> There’s a long pause. He doesn’t go away. I wait for it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What’s the net for, then?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I take a deep breath. “We’re gonna try to trap a monster in it.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh. ... Big monster, is it?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Uhhh, yeah. About man size. That’s pretty big.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “It is. Big, indeed. You’ll be needing a hand, then?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Many as I can get.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Good. What should I do, then?” He squats down beside me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh. Okay. Check to make sure all these smaller nets are laced together tight. I don’t trust the guy who got the net for me. He’s not very mechanical.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Not caught a lot of monsters, has he? I know the type.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Right.” Between the two of us, we repair all the weak links in the net chain Kent’s given us. We work together well, silently, getting right to it. I like this guy.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Got a name?” I ask.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yeh. For quite some time now.” Silence.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Uh — so what is it? Your name.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oho! Sorry — I thought you were offerin’. Patrick.” He holds out a hand for me to shake.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Jason Midnight, Private Investigator.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What? Do you mean like a detective, or do you mean someone who investigates — “</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> ”Detective. I’m investigating this here monster, and the Lost Lagoon of Dr. Hota.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Well done. Why?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Because this monster is annoying my cousin.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Can’t have that —” We’re interrupted by Caroline returning with Kent.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What’s going on? What are you doing? What’s wrong with my net? Did you break it? Auggh! I can’t take the tension!” Caroline’s right. Wesley is highly strung.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Everyone else should be here in a minute or two,” Caroline reports. “All seven of them. Annabeth, Rodan, Mothra, Lucky, Moose, Dr. Prufrock, Henry and Gary. Who’s this guy?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “That’s eight, Caroline. This is Patrick. He wants to help.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “That makes ten then. Pleased to meet you.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Patrick shakes hands with Caroline. “Pleasure. Hear you’re huntin’ monsters.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yeah. Thanks for helping.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You’ve got a grand night for it.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Don’t you just love it? I love this time of day, when the sun’s just about to set over the lake ... It’s so romantic, don’t you think so, Kent?” she says, very pointedly.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Kent explodes. “Am I the only one around here who thinks what we’re doing is desperately weird!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I shrug. “It’s your resort.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I know! All I ever wanted to do was make movies! All I ever wanted to be was the Canadian Roger Corman! But, no-o! Instead, I have to own some kind of stupid cottage resort that’s haunted by monsters and idiots that come out after midnight trying to carry off my customers!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You sound resistant,” Patrick points out kindly. “I’d’ve thought you’d appreciate someone tryin’ to do somethin’ about the problem.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I can’t help you with the idiots, but we will do something about the monster tonight, I guarantee that,” I tell Kent. I wonder which idiots he’s referring to? “Hello, you must be Dr. Prufrock and Henry Henry Henry Henry. I’m Midnight.” Two male figures loom up out of the increasing gloom. One is a dignified, balding older man, smoking a pipe, and the other is a pug-nosed crewcut guy with tiny eyes and a big heart, you can just tell.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yes, pleased to meet you.” Prufrock holds out the hand without the pipe in it, and there’s more handshakes all round.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I already know you!” Wesley shrieks, jumping away from the Professor.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Get this guy outta here, will you?” I mutter to Caroline. “He’s going to scare away the monster. So Doctor — what brings a nuclear physicist slash geneticist out to a garden spot like Gallows Falls? Business or pleasure?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Well, we thought we were getting away for a quiet holiday, but now that this monster’s turned up, I am taking more of a professional interest in events.” He has a deep, well-modulated, slow voice, and doesn’t seem to be at all perturbed by what he’s saying.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “So you believe in the monster then?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh yes. I saw it. Twice, actually.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What’s your opinion of its origin?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Obviously an evolutionary experiment run amuck by that madman, Dr. Hota, you know. I must say, I’m rather affronted by the whole affair. This is the kind of behaviour that gives science a bad name.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yeah. It must be tough enough already for you guys, eh?” I sympathize. “Keeping up that front that radiation is good for us. But speaking as a geneticist, what sort of ‘experiment’ do you think actually produced the monster? Assuming Dr. Hota is responsible for him.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Prufrock takes on a scholarly tone, as if lecturing in a classroom. “The beast appears to be amphibious, slightly reptilian, with large, bulging yellow eyes, and very impressive claws on its hands, and vaguely flipper-like feet. I have to admit, I’ve never encountered anything quite like it before. I suspect it might be some sort of prehistoric missing link between man and fish, perhaps preserved in isolation from the rest of civilization in a neighbouring glacier possibly. Or, as I suggested earlier, the result of an evolutionary experiment gone wild.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “And you say that with a straight face?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I take my science very seriously.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I think it looks like a guy in a rubber suit,” Henry Henry spoke up. “But what do I know? I’m not a scientist.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> A nerdy looking kid runs up, out of breath, wiggling around so much he looks like he’s gonna explode. “Hi! I’m Gary! You haven’t caught it yet, have you? I want to see it! I wanna be there when you catch it! Can I? Can I?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I stare at him. “I think we’ll use you as the bait.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Awright! Cool!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Caroline and Kent come back with the butterfly hunters, Lucky and Moose — Moose? The Butterfly Hunter? — and with Rodan and Mothra. More hellos, etcetera. Gary runs up excitedly to the girls.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Mothra, Mr. Midnight said he’s gonna use me as the bait for the Monster!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Rodan and Mothra scream. Naturally.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What? No way!” Wesley’s off again. “Look, this kid is annoying, but he’s the only help I can afford to hire this summer, and he’s the only one who knows how to keep the damn boats and air conditioners and TVs and VCRs and DVD players working! I can’t afford to have him carried off by the Monster if something goes wrong!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Nothing’s going to go wrong,” I assure him. “Actually, I think we’d be better off with a male and female out here as bait, preferably two of the younger people. So I need someone to stay out in plain sight with Gary. Rodan? Mothra?” I plug my ears in anticipation.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> They scream. I don’t think it’s in agreement. I also have second thoughts about either of them being able to fill the role properly, if they’re going to keep this racket up all night, even before they see the Monster. Where am I going to find another willing young nubile this time of night?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> My city-bred instincts alert me to something weird happening off to my right. I whirl and stare in that direction. There’s a path there, between the trees, leading off to the rest of the cabin area of Gallows Falls, not owned by Kent Wesley. I see the silhouettes of a somewhat chubby female and a squat, cube-like pendulous thing on a rope. The thing takes a ponderous hop towards us. Rodan, Mothra, Caroline and Kent all scream.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh, God, it’s that freakin’ toad,” Wesley gasps after a closer look, clutching his chest. “You just don’t get used to it …"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Rodan and Mothra rush forward. Their screams were apparently of delight this time. “Humphrey! Oh, how is ‘oo, you gorgeous little hunk of toad, you!” They’re actually hugging the thing. Humphrey endures their affection in dignified silence.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I stare at it, trying to make up my mind whether a bulldog would be uglier or not. I can’t decide. I shake my head. “How grotesque,” I comment.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> The woman with the toad blushes and gathers the neckline of her shirt. “Ohh, God! I knew I shouldn’t have worn this blouse." Huh?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, no! The toad. You’re quite pretty.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> She goes into shock. She’s about twenty-six, give or ... nah, she’s either twenty-six or thirty-one, there’s no give there. Her hair is swept back in a short ponytail, she has blue eyes in a pleasant face, and she’s probably no more than thirty or forty pounds overweight, emphasized by the tight black shorts she’s wearing under her coral coloured blouse, but seemingly an all round nice person, I’m certain. Despite the toad. I’ll leave the all round bit out if she asks me how I really think she looks.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> But she’s still completely stunned by my calling her pretty. Her eyes bug out. She’s blushing again. She sounds like she’s about to have an asthma attack, she’s gasping so hard.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Look. I didn’t mean to upset you — “ I begin, but Patrick interrupts. He steps up and takes her free hand, the one without the toad tied to it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, no, what he means is, we were just sayin’ how we need a pretty young girl to stay out with young Gary here and act as decoy for the beastie we’re hunting tonight, and out of the forest you walk fittin’ the bill completely. You will help, won’t you.” He gives her an utterly charming grin.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> She’s thrilled. Obviously doesn’t get out much. “Of — of course!” She laughs.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Hmp! Okay. “Well, now that we’re all assembled, and everybody’s been assigned their roles, let me explain to you exactly what we’re doing here.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Rodan and Mothra scream.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>***</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Where did you find that guy?” Caroline asks me about Patrick.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “He found me. Just wandered along.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “He just about charmed the pants off Annabeth, and I mean that literally, with her figure. She’s usually very shy and insecure.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I caught that. Who knows where he’ll take her before the evening ends? The night is young.” Famous last words.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>***</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> By 1:45 a and I do mean m, I’m ready to pack it in. Annabeth and Gary have been sitting on a big rock on the beach, looking out over the lake since 10:30, waiting for the Monster to appear. The rest of us have been cleverly concealed, watching and waiting. And waiting, and waiting, and waiting …</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You know, the beast may be more clever than we thought,” Dr. Prufrock announces sententiously.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Or maybe we just thought we’re clever,” Caroline says, with a significant look at me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I’m going to the can,” I tell her. “We’ll give it till two, then we’re packing it in. Here — hold Humphrey’s leash.” We couldn’t leave the toad with Rodan and Mothra, they were making too much noise cooing over it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Actually, the toad’s name is Arthur,” Caroline tells me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What? Then why do the girls call him Humphrey?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Mothra thinks Arthur looks like her uncle. Her Uncle Humphrey.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I’m outta here.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I go into Caroline’s cabin to use the facilities. This is crazy, I decide. What makes me believe this particular group of seven, or eight, or however many of them there are, vacationing lunatics are reliable witnesses regarding anything? Butterfly hunters? Nuclear physicists? Two young women “vacationing incognito” as Japanese horror flick monsters? And Wesley — an overstrung brain damaged frustrated Roger Corman wannabe who only sees the world in black and white? There’s no monster out here, I’m certain of it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> When I’m done, I go out the back door of the cabin, and there’s the Monster, standing waiting for me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “RRRRRAGHHH!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Caroline wasn’t kidding. The thing lunges for me — I dive under its claws, rolling on the grass. “Back here! Back here! It’s back here!” I yell, jumping up. The Monster swivels and swings at me again, quicker than I expected.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “RRRRRAGHHH!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Noises of general confusion erupt from my intrepid troop of monster hunters. Rodan and Mothra scream, but anyone could have seen that one coming. Annabeth and Gary tear up from the beach to see what’s going on, as they apparently are the only ones presently not entangled in my net. “Run, you fools!” I try to shoo them away. The Beast swings at me again.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What’s going — COOL!” Gary is thrilled. Annabeth freezes, shrieking.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “RRRRRAGHHH!” The Monster sees them. Oh yeah, like they haven’t been out there for the last three friggin’ hours waiting for him, and now he sees them?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Would you look at that?” Gary goes on. “It is real, after all! This is just so coo—” I tackle him just in time as the Beast lunges for him. Annabeth still stands there frozen, shrieking. Somehow, even though they’re at least thirty feet away, Rodan and Mothra still scream louder.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> The Monster goes for Annabeth now, and she’s too petrified to move. I can’t get up in time after tackling Gary — this doesn’t look good.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “RRRRRAGHHH!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> At the last second, Patrick swoops in, picks up Annabeth, and turns to flee, falling flat a few feet afterwards as she’s way too heavy for him. But that gives me time to act.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I’m up again, and I jump onto the Monster’s back. To my great surprise, my attack actually takes the Beast down, with me on top — something falls over the two of us. Ohh, great! Now they get organized with the net.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> A moment later, the Monster, me, and, somehow, Rodan, who poses so gracefully but moves so clumsily, are all tangled together in the net. Amidst much screaming, yelling, and yes, I openly admit it, vociferous swearing on my part, Rodan and I manage to squirm our way free. We stare down at our handiwork. Well, we captured the Monster all right. And he’s not too happy about it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “RRRRRAGHHH!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What do we have here?” Dr. Prufrock wonders.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “A man in a rubber suit,” I say.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Eh?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I felt the zipper when I took him down. C’mon. Give me a hand, Moose, Lucky, Henry Henry Henry, Patrick. You too, Caroline. He’s not that tough.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> We untangle and unzip. As we yank down the suit, Rodan and Mothra scream again, even though the guy’s wearing a bathing suit underneath. “Will you two knock it off!” Kent yells at them. They scream at him.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Finally, the de-monsterizing is done, and we’re left with a much calmer, intense looking young man, standing and glaring at us furiously, his arms pinioned by Moose and Lucky, and with Caroline’s strong right arm around his neck. Kent is irate. He charges in jabbing his finger in the poor guy’s face.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “This is who’s been terrorizing my customers? This is the Monster? What’s going on here, anyway! Just who do you think you are? What’s your name, anyway? Who are you? Who sent you? Eh? Eh?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> They guy glares at us, breathing hard. There is a long, expectant silence. Then — the Monster speaks.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Trent,” he says, in an angry low voice.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Extraordinary,” Dr. Prufrock observes.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Kent screams.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “So it is human,” Dr. Prufrock proclaims ponderously, working through the chain of events very carefully. “And ... apparently ... neither amphibious ... nor truly reptilian.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You would know, Doc,” Henry agrees.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Science on the march. Prufrock leans in close to the guy’s angry face.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What do you want ... Trent?” he asks, grimly.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Trent’s eyes bug out. He looks positively demon possessed. He’s specifically glaring at Annabeth and Gary now, who still stand beside each other. “Them. Them! THEM!” Trent yells.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Oh, for —” I’m fed up. “If it’s those two you wanted, why didn’t you come out earlier when we put them out as bait? We all could have got to bed a lot sooner.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Trent reverts to character, and somehow, recovers his beast-like strength. He tosses off Moose and Lucky like — well, like a couple of butterfly hunters, really — and flips Caroline right over his head into Patrick and me. Rodan and Mothra — like I need to say, at this point.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Henry Henry tries to dive in to help, but trips over the damn toad. Kent panics, rendering himself totally useless, while Dr. Prufrock takes his pipe out his mouth and leans in, staring hard, to observe Trent’s behaviour more closely.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Trent flattens Gary with a backhand swipe, scoops up a shrieking Annabeth, and runs lightly off with her over his shoulder into the bush, which is pretty darn impressive considering how Patrick fared earlier with the same load.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Caroline glares at me. “Now look what you’ve done.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>(to be continued …)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Photography by Renee Beaubien, at <i>Beyond the Prism</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">on Flickr, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A Victor Coffin/Jason Midnight double-header begins Friday, August 7th with <b><i>The Big Mosquito</i></b>, posting number 1 of 49. As always, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week featuring:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Darlene on the dream scene</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Decomposition in Sink Series</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">by Fandango Moberly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">#2 of 50</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-36943581415295975252015-07-29T05:44:00.003-07:002015-07-29T05:44:30.140-07:00beginnings middles ends<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Beginnings, Middles, Endings</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I started reading George R. R. Martin’s <i>The Game of Thrones </i>yesterday.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There’s nothing like beginning a new book. In this case, with all the hype behind this particular title, it has a lot to live up to. I’ve never seen the TV show and don’t really have a good idea who the characters are. I’ve avoided the series up to now because George Martin is getting old and he hasn’t finished writing it yet. I didn’t want to commit to that many pages of reading with no guarantee there’ll never be an ending to it.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aXoHn16MI7Y/VbjJdZbpPEI/AAAAAAAAEGk/0GjS8d642P0/s1600/beg%2B2%2Bmartin.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aXoHn16MI7Y/VbjJdZbpPEI/AAAAAAAAEGk/0GjS8d642P0/s400/beg%2B2%2Bmartin.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But then I had a dream some months ago in which I was reading <i>Game of Thrones</i>, so I decided, okay, that must mean something good. I bought a copy of the ubiquitous Volume One and saved it for the summer. Now it’s summer, and it’s time to read long books …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But the thing is — maybe even more so with a series like this — I’ll never have the experience again of meeting and learning all the characters and crises and drama. Introducing myself to a huge new world already such a prominent and popular part of the common consciousness. I’m not concerned with catching up with everyone else, but I am determined to have the experience of being personally engaged by the book in my own right. And you can only do that by actually starting the book. And you can only have the experience of being enchanted by starting a book for the first time once. It’s great.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Something like …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I passed the halfway mark in David Peace’s first novel in the<i> Red Riding Quartet</i>, <i>1974</i>, yesterday. There’s nothing like being in the middle of a good book.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NRm6rtDe1TY/VbjJxZbJccI/AAAAAAAAEG0/_oRLRig9AIo/s1600/beg%2B4%2Bpeace.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NRm6rtDe1TY/VbjJxZbJccI/AAAAAAAAEG0/_oRLRig9AIo/s400/beg%2B4%2Bpeace.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There’s a startlingly accurate blurb from the <i>New York Times</i> on the cover of that novel. “A bundle of spastic nerves and jumpy tempos, hard to hold in your hand but harder to put down.” I would only recommend David Peace to certain people as a good read, as the world he presents is that bleak and visceral. But the way he experiments with narrative to fling the story at you like mud at a window you foolishly left open is maddeningly compelling. And like the <i>NY Times</i> says, the excitement of holding a narrative in your hands that you just can’t put down is so exceptional, you’ll put up with a lot. Even the unremitting blood and guts of a Yorkshire you can only hope isn’t quite as real as David Peace makes it seem. And that keeps you coming back for more, and more, and more, the deeper you get into it, until …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I finished <i>The Duke’s Children </i>by Anthony Trollope on Sunday morning. Not only completing the novel itself, but his six-book series The Palliser Novels as well. Some 4,200 pages worth of reading in total.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There’s nothing like finishing a good book. Coming to that moment which, if successfully carried out, establishes a sense of order and resolution to a world of infinite possibilities that you never get in real life. Finding out how it all works out for a change! Some people get what they deserve, some don’t, but in every aspect if the book is a good one, each ending for each character and situation provides a sense of aesthetic satisfaction with how the artist has drawn his conflicting lines into a single coherent picture. Even better if you don’t see things coming.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And Anthony somehow manages to end this magnum opus with one single sentence that sums up so much of the spirit of the entire series, even though referring specifically to a character unique to that last novel. But a good writer will do that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because there’s nothing like picking up a good book and reading it right through, really.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Photography by Renee Beaubien, at <i>Beyond the Prism</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">on Flickr, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Grand Finale! Episode 17, Chapter 17 of <i>The Electric Detective</i>, posts Monday, July 27th, in which the final two Contestants battle it out to a finish! And then, on Friday, July 31st … the Winner is declared! <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> concludes at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With special continuing guest appearances by Jason Midnight and his Cousin Caroline.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Twelve: Kafka-Ish — Metamorphos-Ish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Thirteen: Finney-Ish — The Invasion of the Hotel Detectives</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fourteen: Miller-Ish — Tempering the Cauldron</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fifteen: Stevenson-Ish — Dr. Coffin’s Kindly Concoction</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Sixteen: Shelley-Ish — Prometheus, the Hard Way</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seventeen: Baillie-Ish — The Electric Detective, Chapter Seventeen</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As illustrated by the author.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-26444530657796209462015-07-22T05:59:00.003-07:002015-07-22T05:59:40.133-07:00yoko ono<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Sundog Rising!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><b>Yoko Ono Project</b></i></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ne9ZyAPKl1w/Va-RMcd4ocI/AAAAAAAAED8/qIVNrboJkdU/s1600/yoko%2B01%2Bsarc.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ne9ZyAPKl1w/Va-RMcd4ocI/AAAAAAAAED8/qIVNrboJkdU/s400/yoko%2B01%2Bsarc.jpeg" width="298" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The first week of July, 2015 …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yoko Ono wins the Observer Lifetime Achievement Ethical Award.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“‘Art to me is a way of showing people how you can think,’ Ono says. ‘Some people think of art as like beautiful wallpaper that you can sell, but I have always thought that it is to do with activism.’</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Ono believes that activism can – and should – take many forms, and her range of causes is similarly broad: world peace, of course, but also the environment (in 2012 she embarked on a high-profile anti-fracking crusade), gun control and social issues, including feminism and same-sex marriage. She donated money after the Japanese tsunami, inaugurated the Yoko Ono Lennon Courage Award for the Arts in 2009 and was designated the first global autism ambassador in 2010. ‘To be an artist you need courage, and most people don’t think that,’ she says.”</i></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YwoH8oWNlAc/Va-RbA4gtiI/AAAAAAAAEEE/yCSUsE7rQNE/s1600/yoko%2B02%2Bactive.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YwoH8oWNlAc/Va-RbA4gtiI/AAAAAAAAEEE/yCSUsE7rQNE/s400/yoko%2B02%2Bactive.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Rumours circulate that Yoko Ono was a secret plot by the Rolling Stones to destroy the Beatles. Yoko declares she loves Paul and Ringo like they were brothers.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oR1hERqd3mI/Va-Riiv5gyI/AAAAAAAAEEM/Hl2pHavm3-I/s1600/yoko%2B03%2Bpaul.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oR1hERqd3mI/Va-Riiv5gyI/AAAAAAAAEEM/Hl2pHavm3-I/s400/yoko%2B03%2Bpaul.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Wish Tree</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Make a wish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Keep wishing</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Until the branches are covered with wishes.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The first tree was installed in the Sculpture Garden of the Museum of Modern Art, New York, five years ago this month. Wishes have been contributed from all over the world. More Wish Trees have been installed in London, St. Louis, Washington, San Francisco, Palo Alto, Japan, Venice, and Dublin. Why not put one in your back yard? Or let planting a tree be your wish.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yoko Ono sponsors Chess for girls in New York City schools.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rvdO4YZNX60/Va-R5fD-5rI/AAAAAAAAEEc/uN-7D4YYBuw/s1600/yoko%2B05%2Bchess.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rvdO4YZNX60/Va-R5fD-5rI/AAAAAAAAEEc/uN-7D4YYBuw/s400/yoko%2B05%2Bchess.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One Woman Show: 1960-1971</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">17 May – 7 Sept 2015</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“The Museum of Modern Art presents its first official exhibition dedicated exclusively to the work of Yoko Ono, bringing together approximately 125 of her early objects, works on paper, installations, performances, audio recordings and films, alongside rarely seen archival materials.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Museum of Modern Art</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>New York, NY 10019”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Draw a line with yourself. Go on drawing until you disappear.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Music — Don’t Stop Me by Yoko Ono</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“At my age I should be in a certain way. Please don’t stop me being the way I am. I don’t want to be old and sick like many others of my age. Please don’t create another old person.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>So even when I am rocking on the stage, they are totally hard on me. They demand the musical standard of a classic musician and attack me for the rhythm or some notes which are not precisely in tune. I am not concerned with what my voice is doing. If I was, what you experience would not be. My voice will be dead, once I am concerned about it, in the way you are asking me to. Go to a classical concert, if you want to hear a ‘trained’ voice. What I escaped from when I was very, very young. I created my own niche. If I tried to present you classic music it won’t be what I created. You don’t get that way, with Iggy for instance, a grand rocker, who is creating his own brand of Rock, just as I am.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Let me be free. Let me be me! Don’t make me old, with your thinking and words about how I should be. You don’t have to come to my shows. I am giving tremendous energy with my voice, because that is me. Get my energy or shut up."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Popular Reaction - Yoko Ono’s name is synonymous with “the figure of the evil female interloper to the mainstream”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Send a fog to your friend”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yoko Ono is 82 years old.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">An activist for peace and human rights since the early 1960s.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Born on February 18, 1933, in Tokyo, to a life of privilege, her father’s family a long line of samurai warrior-scholars. Enrolled in Gakushuin, one of Japan’s most exclusive schools in 1937. Lived through the great fire-bombing of Tokyo in 1945. Forced with her family to beg for food while pulling their belongings in a wheelbarrow. Re-enrolled in Gakushuin when it reopened in 1946. Classmate of Prince Akihito, the future emperor of Japan. Graduated in 1951 and was accepted into the philosophy program of Gakushuin University as the first woman to enter the department. Left the school after two semesters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">According to Wiki.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Married Anthony Cox, an American jazz musician, film producer, and art promoter, who was instrumental in securing her release from a Japanese mental institution in the early 60s. She gave birth to their daughter Kyoko Chan Cox in 1963. The marriage ended in divorce in 1969. Cox disappeared in 1971 with 8 year old Kyoko, in the middle of a custody battle. He raised Kyoko under the name Ruth Holman in an organization known as the Church of the Living Word. Yoko Ono and John Lennon searched for Kyoko for years. Yoko Ono did not see Kyoko again until 1998.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Keep laughing a week.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Honorary Doctorate of Laws from Liverpool University</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Honorary degree of Doctor of Fine Arts from Bard College</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Skowhegan Medal for work in assorted media</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Awarded the fifth MOCA Award to Distinguished Women in the Arts from the Museum of Contemporary Art Los Angeles</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lifetime achievement award from the Japan Society of New York</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Golden Lion Award for lifetime achievement from the Venice Biennale</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2012 Oskar Kokoschka Prize, Austria's highest award for applied contemporary art</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Everybody knows her name, but nobody knows what she does.” — John Lennon</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">yoko ono yoko ono think twice</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">or at least a fair shake</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">don’t give in</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">to the urge to condemn</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">acknowledge our voice</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">cracked crazy and screaming</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">maybe wonder why</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Photography by Renee Beaubien, at Beyond the Prism</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">on Flickr, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Judgement! On Monday, July 20th. Leaving three Contestants only to go into Friday, July 24th’s <b>The Electric Detective</b> Chapter Sixteen. After which, there’s only two … <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Trapped in the Barometer’s Rising brothel, who will remain intact to slide directly into <b>The Electric Detective</b> Chapter 17 — the grand finale!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Twelve: Kafka-Ish — Metamorphos-Ish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Thirteen: Finney-Ish — The Invasion of the Hotel Detectives</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fourteen: Miller-Ish — Tempering the Cauldron</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fifteen: Stevenson-Ish — Dr. Coffin’s Kindly Concoction</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Sixteen: Shelley-Ish — Prometheus, the Hard Way</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. All the drawings except Billy Garlock’s have been used once — and we’re saving Billy for the final Instalment. Thus, a short review of the remaining Contestants is in order.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After this week, only 2 Instalments to go!</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-89881316245285406252015-07-15T06:18:00.001-07:002015-07-15T06:18:07.125-07:00acquiring knowledge<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Acquiring Meaning</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_wkCMPjbKlU/VaZbhZRgjPI/AAAAAAAAEBU/NhJslbCY4e4/s1600/acq%2B01%2Balpha.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_wkCMPjbKlU/VaZbhZRgjPI/AAAAAAAAEBU/NhJslbCY4e4/s400/acq%2B01%2Balpha.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My wife likes to sew, but it’s hard to find the time. However, during what was finally officially logged as the worst winter in Winnipeg’s recorded history over 2013-2014 — which is saying a lot — we were trapped in the house pretty much every weekend for close to six months. So she got a lot of sewing done. Kept her sane.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DJflWxiTwRY/VaZbsLMOI0I/AAAAAAAAEBc/mEuN8egMYA8/s1600/acq%2B02%2Bwinter.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DJflWxiTwRY/VaZbsLMOI0I/AAAAAAAAEBc/mEuN8egMYA8/s320/acq%2B02%2Bwinter.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She’d owned a particular piece of material for quite some time she’d never had the chance to do something with until this unholy winter. It featured a beautiful pattern. Bright white characters from the Japanese alphabet on a dark, dark blue background. However, as neither my wife nor I read Japanese …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She called me in for an intensive consultation at one point, just before making the commitment of cutting the material into the pattern of the pants she wanted to make. Which way should be up?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not knowing any Japanese characters, we had no idea. No point of reference. But we both finally agreed one orientation looked better than the other, so that was how she cut the material to read.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The pants turned out great. When summer finally came — much to everyone’s surprise, by that point — she could actually wear the pants, as they were too lightweight for winter. As it happened, she had them on when a Japanese friend came to visit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">First off, we were extremely pleased to discover we had called the orientation of the characters correctly. What we decided was up actually was up. The next amazing thing was our friend could read what was written on the pants. It turned out to be a Buddhist prayer for serenity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What a transfiguring moment that was! Seeing our friend suddenly deliver meaning, and a rather sweet meaning at that, to images that had been only appealing as design to that point. The entire garment abruptly took on much deeper significance.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V60ppo_5IXs/VaZb-RY77vI/AAAAAAAAEBs/S2ncKunsq0M/s1600/acq%2B04%2Bdylan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="378" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V60ppo_5IXs/VaZb-RY77vI/AAAAAAAAEBs/S2ncKunsq0M/s400/acq%2B04%2Bdylan.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photo by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Reading is an acquired skill. Some skills in life we develop by instinct — like language and speaking. But others we have to consciously apply ourselves to learn. Like reading and writing that same language we acquire by instinct. Or other languages we’re entirely unfamiliar with, such as Japanese, in my wife’s and my case.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I remember the day I officially acquired reading as a skill …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was finishing Grade One, was seven years old, and had been taught the rudimentary skills necessary to master phonetics. It was a hot spring Saturday morning, and the whole family was driving out to the cottage at the lake for the weekend. I’d been given a new <i>Aquaman</i> comic before we set off on the trip to keep me happy and quiet for the voyage.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">By this point I was having no problem with the Grade One Dick and Jane Reader at school, but I didn’t consider that real reading yet. Oh no. Real reading was when I was going to be able to read a superhero comic book by myself! That was what was really important.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bcuqqe8kFNU/VaZcYHHD6vI/AAAAAAAAEB8/d9wHITJwTpo/s1600/acq%2B06%2Bdick.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bcuqqe8kFNU/VaZcYHHD6vI/AAAAAAAAEB8/d9wHITJwTpo/s400/acq%2B06%2Bdick.jpeg" width="298" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I realized, as I started looking through the pictures at the beginning of this comic, hey … something was happening here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I applied myself and worked through it. God knows how long it took me, but I read the entire damn comic. And then announced proudly to my mother what I had just done.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She didn’t believe me. So I demonstrated — read whole pages out loud to her to prove I could do it. She was absolutely thrilled. Not only proud that her son was proving so precocious, but revelling in the freedom she knew this meant. She would never have to read another one of those damn comic books to me again!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Given the amount I’ve read since then, this was obviously a seminal moment in my life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To this day I recall the feeling of the world opening up to me through my acquisition of this skill. I literally felt my brain expand in that moment. I had not only acquired a new skill. Having access to the universe being able to read properly opened up to me also meant having access to so much more meaning in my life. I grew up significantly that morning. And gained a hint maybe for the first time what growing up might really be all about …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There’s a lot more to the skill than suddenly recognizing what appears as random marks upon a page or fabric beforehand as holding comprehensible designation. The concepts those marks represent compose themselves into even deeper significance than their literal meaning alone connotes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You have to use your brain in an entirely different manner than merely comprehending interpretation of a code to come to a resolution concerning what the deeper implications of any written statement might represent. Which is an instinctive skill you have to develop with spoken language as well. You learn to think critically, dammit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Meaning may well be open to interpretation, within the given context the words are presented to you. So you’re missing a lot if you don’t apply what should be your instinctive capacity to think about language to the acquired skill of being able to read language as well. You don’t want to be fooled — plus there is so much beauty in language, you shouldn’t want to miss out, just because you’re not certain which way up the letters should go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, like the Buddha, we should all pray for the serenity to make sense of this world in the fullest capacity we can.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Photography by Renee Beaubien, at <i>Beyond the Prism</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">on Flickr, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Confusion! I mixed up last week’s blurb. <i>The Electric Detective</i> Chapter Fifteen ran Friday, July 10th, and Shelley-Ish, Episode Sixteen, runs this Monday, July 13th and Friday, July 14th. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues in some kind of order at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So one more time, if Victor Coffin ended up with Dr. Henry Jekyll’s old notes, who ended up with Victor Frankenstein’s? And don’t miss Tunguska’s cameo appearance, complete with description of what she’s wearing. Including shoes, of course.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Twelve: Kafka-Ish — Metamorphos-Ish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Thirteen: Finney-Ish — The Invasion of the Hotel Detectives</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fourteen: Miller-Ish — Tempering the Cauldron</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fifteen: Stevenson-Ish — Dr. Coffin’s Kindly Concoction</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Sixteen: Shelley-Ish — Prometheus, the Hard Way</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After this week, only 2 more weeks and 4 instalments to go!</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-50100570398977637692015-07-08T06:13:00.001-07:002015-07-08T06:13:22.468-07:00older writers<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>The Habit of Writing</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Do you ever brood on life?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Occasionally, sir, when at leisure.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “What do you make of it? Pretty odd in spots, don’t you think?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “It might be so described, sir.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “This business of such-and-such seeming to be so-and-so, when it really isn’t so-and-so at all. You follow me?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">From <i>Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen</i>, by P.G. Wodehouse</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen</i>, the last of P.G. Wodehouse’s famous <i>Jeeves and Wooster</i> novels, was published in 1974 — when Wodehouse was 92 years old. The above lines are from the penultimate page of the book, and you have to wonder if this conversation, which comes somewhat out of the blue just at the end of the saga, reflects Wodehouse’s thinking on having lived such a long life as well as being Bertie Wooster’s philosophical summation of his own existential dilemma. “Pretty odd in spots, don’t you think, old P.G.?” It might be so described, Bertie, it might be so described …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am always immeasurably impressed by authors who go on writing well past eighty. Or even seventy. But to make it past ninety and still be putting pen to paper! That is an accomplishment, and I do admit I find myself reading those later works with three things in mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> Is whoever it is still writing just because they long ago got into the habit of writing and can’t stop?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> Or do they have something particularly insightful to reveal after attaining such a heightened state of experience?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> Or have they just lost it, and are only still on the market because their name alone guarantees a few more sales?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Much as I appreciated <i>Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen</i> and was provoked to laugh out loud by it more than once, I can’t say that there’s truly any profound philosophical insights to be found in the book. But P.G. hadn’t lost it. His flair for language was as penchant as ever. We should all write so lightly even only at 60.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So my conclusion regarding Wodehouse still publishing into his tenth decade would be yes, the man definitely was in the habit of writing. Thank goodness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But what about some others, who went on — and in some cases still are — writing well past ages other people would consider more than adequate for retirement? How about Herman Wouk, Toni Morrison, Elmore Leonard, Philip Roth, Arthur C. Clarke, Dick Francis, or Thomas McGuane, to name a few?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Or how about John Le Carré? In his eighties, and his last book came out two years ago. As full of intrigue and solid with research and politics as anything he’s written.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Of course, on the other end of the scale you might mention Barbara Cartland — but then Barbara Cartland was always on the other end of any scale you might mention. When Barbara died in 2000 at the age of 98, she left behind no fewer than 160 unpublished manuscripts. Wikipedia says she wrote 723 novels total, once turning out a world’s record of 23 in one year — 1983, when she was already in her 80s.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There are habits, there are obsessions, there are addictions — and then there’s Barbara Cartland.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One of my favourite ladies, Lilian Jackson Braun, published her last <i>The Cat Who …</i> novel after she passed 90. But, unfortunately, it sort of showed …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The plot was nonexistent to rambling to weird, with strange random events occurring like her protagonist Jim Qwilleran’s longtime girlfriend Polly disappearing with another man and letting Jim know by a cryptic letter, but then a sexy young lawyer immediately shows up to take her place in Qwilleran’s rather oblique lovelife.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One does get the feeling in this case that Lilian was just rounding off a lifelong, very satisfying in its time, habit of writing, and that a publisher knew some more money could be made off her name.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That was only her last book, written when she was about 95 or so. Lilian wrote at least 12 books in the series after she was 80, and they are all up to snuff, no question of it. And when she died at 97, she was still working on one more …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So let’s face it. If writing helps you live that long, it’s a damn good habit to get into.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Photography by Renee Beaubien, at <b><i>Beyond the Prism</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">on Flickr, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chapter Fifteen of <i>The Electric Detective </i>unfolds on Monday, July 6th, while the first instalment of the penultimate Episode Sixteen, Mary Shelley-Ish debuts Friday, July 10th! <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our two alien siblings go head to head in a one-of-them-has-to-go battle in the confines of the Barometer’s Rising brothel …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, if Victor Coffin ended up with Dr. Henry Jekyll’s old notes, who ended up with Victor Frankenstein’s?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Twelve: Kafka-Ish — Metamorphos-Ish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Thirteen: Finney-Ish — The Invasion of the Hotel Detectives</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fourteen: Miller-Ish — Tempering the Cauldron</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fifteen: Stevenson-Ish — Dr. Coffin’s Kindly Concoction</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Sixteen: Shelley-Ish — Prometheus, the Hard Way</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After this week, only 6 instalments to go!</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-82810681871723931512015-07-01T08:01:00.005-07:002015-07-01T08:01:46.272-07:00writing by hand<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had a Creative Writing teacher in University who told us if you were going to write novels, you had to write them directly on the computer. It was too much work otherwise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not True.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The only pieces I write directly on the computer are these blogs. Anything with any length to it gets written out longhand first. From short stories, to <i>Reality Fiction Too!</i>, which was over 1,000 pages.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I agree eventually you’ve got to type the damn thing into the computer, because using the computer is the only practical way to edit a book after you’ve written it — especially if it’s over a thousand pages. I use the process of entering the manuscript into the word processing program as an opportunity to do the first comprehensive redraft of the work. Very useful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You might think using pen and ink is an archaic way of approaching the whole enterprise. After all, why not avail myself of the technology? In fact, why don’t I skip the whole 1,000 page nonsense to begin with and just tweet the novel?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>RF2: many characters lots of conflict Theda wins lol</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That’s not exactly the life affirming creative process I’m hoping to engage in when I sit down to write … There are distinct advantages to picking up a pen and letting the words emerge the slow way. But don’t just take my word for it. Read what other more famous names who do the same thing have to say about the practice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Reality Fiction Too!<i> apart, how can any real writer expect to turn out anything resembling a substantial body of work when they start off by writing their manuscripts longhand, you might ask? As my University prof complained, the time it must take! Well, what about …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It slows you down. It makes you think about each word as you write it, and it also gives you more of a chance so that you're able-- the sentences compose themselves in your head. It's like hearing music, only it's words. But you see more ahead because you can't go as fast.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Or what about the equally prolific …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Why is this so unusual? Every writer has written “by hand” until relatively recent times. Writing is a consequence of thinking, planning, dreaming — this is the process that results in “writing,” rather than the way in which the writing is recorded.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>The truth is, you have a lot more time to think about what you’re writing when you do it by hand. As another proud practitioner of the pen and ink tradition mentions …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Amy Tan</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Writing by hand helps me remain open to all those particular circumstances, all those little details that add up to the truth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>And then there’s the sensual satisfaction of physically filling up a blank page.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I like the whole first and second draft feeling, and the act of making paper dirty</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>My manuscripts rarely make it to completion without a few ketchup stains. I like to write while I eat lunch. Try doing that and typing on a computer keyboard at the same time without blowing a few circuits.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My ritual is, I never use a typewriter or computer. I just write it all by hand. It’s a ceremony. I go to a stationery store and buy a notebook — and I don’t buy like 10. I just buy one and then fill it up. Then I buy a bunch of red felt pens and a bunch of black ones, and I’m like, “These are the pens I’m going to write <i>Grindhouse</i> with.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I like writing with different coloured pens too, alternating chapter by chapter, blue, black, green, red and purple. Although I’m thinking of giving up green, because the ink is always so light I have trouble reading it afterwards with my aging eyes.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>But you don’t necessarily have to use pen and ink, or even regular 8 1/2 by 11 inch paper either.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Truman Capote …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">wrote the first and second drafts of his novels entirely in pencil, then switched to a typewriter for the third drafts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Vladimir Nabokov …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">did all of his writing by hand – on index cards! This gave him the opportunity to perform hands-on cut-and-paste work, rearranging scenes by moving cards around. He also preferred to work standing up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On top of all this, no one ever lost a handwritten manuscript to a hard drive suddenly crashing, or to word processing software suddenly glitching and irrevocably devouring three pages you just wrote. Which did happen to me, the one and only time I wrote a longer work directly on the infernal machine. I love writing the first time, but trying to reconstruct what I just wrote after being suddenly thrust into an extremely bad mood by Bill Gates and MicroSith is pure hell, let me assure you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So on that note — right after I finish backing this blog up on an external drive — you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got a date with a notebook and some several delightful pens …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Photography by Renee Beaubien, at<i> Beyond the Prism!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On Flickr, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Episode Fifteen, Stevenson-Ish, unfolds this week, with the first part on Monday, June 29th and the second on Friday July 3rd. Don’t miss the cameo in the actual story by Tunguska! <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Victor Coffin gets his hands on the notebooks and certain chemicals left behind by the infamous Dr. Henry Jekyll …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Twelve: Kafka-Ish — Metamorphos-Ish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Thirteen: Finney-Ish — The Invasion of the Hotel Detectives</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fourteen: Miller-Ish — Tempering the Cauldron</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fifteen: Stevenson-Ish — Dr. Coffin’s Kindly Concoction</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After this week, 8 instalments to go!</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-10606296087725265762015-06-24T06:32:00.002-07:002015-06-24T06:32:28.683-07:00the encounter<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ONaQNZf7WOk/VYqt_Ix1BAI/AAAAAAAAD7A/nGsjez-Snuk/s1600/ecs%2B01%2Blight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ONaQNZf7WOk/VYqt_Ix1BAI/AAAAAAAAD7A/nGsjez-Snuk/s400/ecs%2B01%2Blight.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photograph by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The light was very strange in Winnipeg yesterday.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For reasons I haven’t determined yet, although forest fires are the likeliest culprits, the city was covered by a haze of smoke all day. This gave a very curious reddish tinge to the sunlight trying to slip through. This far into June, there’s a lot of sunlight in Winnipeg any given day. The sun’s rising around 5 a.m. and not going down until after 10 p.m.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I walked to the grocery store and generally just took in the light streaming through the windows of the house, I kept thinking I gotta get a picture of this!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Around 3 in the afternoon the light came in the kitchen window and shone on the hardwood floor in a square I found too utterly fascinating colour-wise not to try to record. Forgetting to take the flash off, I destroyed the first two pictures but finally managed to get the best I could manage with my particular camera, an ancient-by-today’s-terms point and shoot. Didn’t really do the moment justice. No ecstasy there. Didn’t get the image sharp enough to match my already fading memory of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Still it was an exciting encounter. Thinking I could get a photo of that strange light made me regard the beautiful effects it had on my environment much more consciously than I might have just walking by them with my mind occupied with the usual wasteland. So to me, among all art forms, the idea of the encounter is what photography is most clearly about.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_wWPl669dMY/VYqurdKXSzI/AAAAAAAAD7Q/5HGjsfS93J0/s1600/ecs%2B03%2Bdylan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="378" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_wWPl669dMY/VYqurdKXSzI/AAAAAAAAD7Q/5HGjsfS93J0/s400/ecs%2B03%2Bdylan.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photograph by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I mentioned last week, I recently read Rollo May’s <i>The Courage to Create</i>, which is where I’m primarily picking up on these concepts of ecstasy and encounter as facets of the aesthetic and creative experience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">May talks about both concepts extensively in his book. Two of the more succinct statements he makes regarding them are:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">[A] heightened consciousness, which we [identify] as characteristic of the encounter, the state in which the dichotomy between subjective experience and objective reality is overcome and symbols which reveal new meaning are born, is historically termed ecstasy. … Ecstasy is a temporary transcending of the subject-object dichotomy.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (p. 105)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Encounter — a quality of commitment, which may be present in little experiences — such as a brief glance out the window at a tree — that do not necessarily involve any great quantity of emotion. But these temporally brief experiences may have a considerable significance for the sensitive person, here viewed as the person with a capacity for passion. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(p. 100)</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FRl02X2_TCE/VYqvTLDgQXI/AAAAAAAAD7c/4S0XVdmQ0gA/s1600/ecs%2B04%2Baubrey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FRl02X2_TCE/VYqvTLDgQXI/AAAAAAAAD7c/4S0XVdmQ0gA/s400/ecs%2B04%2Baubrey.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photograph by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">May’s argument is that creativity is a necessary aspect of our psychological make-up enabling us to interact proactively with our world, through a series of encounters that produce an ecstasy in our perception concerning that which surrounds us. Which mostly sounds like writing poetry to me. But as I’ve mentioned before, I think poetry and photography have a lot in common. And putting things in terms of photography, I think May’s conception of the encounter would resonate more strongly than poetry even with people who may not consider themselves terribly creative.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Why do we take pictures? My wife recently mentioned to me that she’d read that a high percentage of people consider their photographs to be their most prized possessions. These are people who are hardly all out there trying to capture the most aesthetically satisfying blends of light and form in a digitally accurate format.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photograph by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No, these are the people who believe they’re capturing tangible evidence of their own memories in an image that will last eternally — or at least until the hard drive crashes without a backup. EVERYONE! Always remember! Back up your photographs externally today! Or you may live to regret it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I like May’s idea of the encounter. Especially as applied to photography. People who take endless snaps of their relatives at family events or record each exciting moment of a foreign holiday aren’t necessarily thinking they’re being terribly creative. But those moments are too important not to try to save. Human memory is very fickle — generally useless beyond a few moments to any degree of accuracy. Two people can argue about what they recall about any given event endlessly, but a photograph tells the facts. There is the real memory, made concrete.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That’s not necessarily true of course — photos can be faked by the devilishly creative. But you get my point.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The fact is that the idea of the encounter rings true for any photograph taken for whatever reason. All the family is together on this day, looking this much older — we’re all encountering each other at this moment, so snap! That’s how we all were on that occasion. There’s a beautiful sunset happening over the lake tonight on this long-awaited holiday. I don’t want to forget this encounter, so — snap!</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aeEKEdlLsQM/VYqwRx8pyAI/AAAAAAAAD70/0WR35lozkqg/s1600/ecs%2B07%2Bsunset.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aeEKEdlLsQM/VYqwRx8pyAI/AAAAAAAAD70/0WR35lozkqg/s400/ecs%2B07%2Bsunset.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photograph by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With the facility of the digital camera and its capacity for endless images, more encounters are being recorded each day than ever before. I won’t even mention nude selfies on the top of Malaysian mountains causing avalanches. Some encounters can be a lot more dangerous than others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">However, if this practice was as random as I’m making it sound here, merely having a endless series of digitally stored photographic encounters wouldn’t be important enough to make their My Pictures folders such a high percentage of people’s most prized possessions. The fact is, most people get something out of looking at the photos — and remembering — well beyond the mere fact of having them. And that’s where the touch of ecstasy steps in.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Akt9qwRVBLQ/VYqwnPdQzbI/AAAAAAAAD78/_6aNM5EjkFk/s1600/ecs%2B08%2Btravel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Akt9qwRVBLQ/VYqwnPdQzbI/AAAAAAAAD78/_6aNM5EjkFk/s400/ecs%2B08%2Btravel.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photograph by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Even for the self proclaimed non-imaginative, having these photos to look at, no matter how many times your mother cut the top of your heads off in most family shots and managed to completely eliminate your ex-brother-in-law and what kind of a loss is that anyway? in that one particularly hilarious group picture, still produces a good feeling. Maybe not the full temporary transcendence of the subject-object dichotomy Rollo May talks about, but we’re getting into the right territory.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And for those who actually use photography as an intentional means of creative expression!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photo montage by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well, the sky’s the limit. So go out, snap snap, encounter encounter, discover and rejoice in your world! A little bit of necessary creativity never hurt anyone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>For more photography by Renee Beaubien,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>go to </i><b>Beyond the Prism</b><i> on Flickr, at:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everyone’s got complaints during "Judgement in Space" for Episode Fourteen, posting Monday, June 22nd. While <i>The Electric Detective</i> explores the geography at Barometer’s Rising on Friday, June 26th. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Three Episodes to go! Two Ishes and three Electric Detectives! We’ll tie it all up at the end of July.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Twelve: Kafka-Ish — Metamorphos-Ish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Thirteen: Finney-Ish — The Invasion of the Hotel Detectives</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fourteen: Miller-Ish — Tempering the Cauldron</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-20267034156345818302015-06-17T06:31:00.001-07:002015-06-17T06:31:37.881-07:00gods of light and ecstasy<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Sundog Rising!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mFMSMphztQ4/VYFzL4wazxI/AAAAAAAAD5A/SGMg0lUC_a4/s1600/gods%2B01%2Blight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mFMSMphztQ4/VYFzL4wazxI/AAAAAAAAD5A/SGMg0lUC_a4/s400/gods%2B01%2Blight.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There’s an argument I constantly hear going on between photographers that quite frankly baffles me. On the one side, you have the high definition devotees. The only measure of a photograph’s worth is how sharp it is. Then you have the obvious softer side, declaring that blurriness or any other effect involving less than crystal clear microscopic reproduction of image is precisely what can make or break a photo aesthetically.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Clarity! Tone! Particularity! Texture!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Like one automatically has to override the other. What if you’re trying to take a sharp picture of the mist?</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--AWf8d-xWTg/VYFzjq0tYCI/AAAAAAAAD5I/XJYLHRF7jnA/s1600/gods%2B02%2Bmist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--AWf8d-xWTg/VYFzjq0tYCI/AAAAAAAAD5I/XJYLHRF7jnA/s400/gods%2B02%2Bmist.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photograph by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Obviously both arguments have their place — I don’t think any art form should be judged exclusively by any single criterion. In all fairness, the single-minded fanaticism does seem to fall primarily on the side of the high definition aficionados. Those who work with the fuzzy as well as the crystal clear generally take a broader view, incorporating both practices as proper aesthetic tools.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But we may well sigh in exasperation that the argument still continues at all. When you think about it, the dispute has been going on since the time of the Greek gods …</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ky5kL_yhYyY/VYFzzxFpvrI/AAAAAAAAD5Q/bgGDirjLITE/s1600/gods%2B03%2Bapollo.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ky5kL_yhYyY/VYFzzxFpvrI/AAAAAAAAD5Q/bgGDirjLITE/s400/gods%2B03%2Bapollo.jpeg" width="315" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Or at least until philosophers and psychoanalysts decided to couch it within those terms. I recently read Rollo May’s <i>The Courage to Create</i>, and I extended some of his concepts to the photography argument.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Primarily I refer to the dialectical balance between the Apollonian and the Dionysian principles in creativity. In Greek mythology, Apollo was the God of Light, and Dionysus — Bacchus, really, in the Greek, but for some reason the Roman version of his name is always used in these discussions — was the God of Revels, shall we put it politely? Letting it all hang out, we would have said in the seventies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">According to Rollo, in terms of aesthetics, the Apollonian principle is that of form and rational order, and the Dionysian principle that of surging vitality. I rediscovered these terms in May’s book, but really they were first coined by good ol’ Fred — you remember Fred? — Friedrich Nietzsche, in <i>The Birth of Tragedy</i>. Which I read when I was nineteen, and got as much out of as I would have if someone had just bounced the book off my head. But hey. Time passes. A lot of what I thought made sense at nineteen totally baffles me now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I digress. It doesn’t take a genius to make the connection between the Apollonian principle and the high definition yea-sayers in the art of photography, and associate the less-than-clearly-delineated effects of those who prefer the fuzzier approach with the Dionysian principle.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bErbIn4SDa0/VYF0P42BzrI/AAAAAAAAD5g/zEHfWl2wW1g/s1600/gods%2B05%2Bsharp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bErbIn4SDa0/VYF0P42BzrI/AAAAAAAAD5g/zEHfWl2wW1g/s400/gods%2B05%2Bsharp.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photograph by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You can understand the Apollo camp’s infatuation. Never has the current technology allowed the photographer to capture more detail more easily. Today’s cameras allow their users to photograph a super-reality. The camera sees a more highly detailed reality than the human eye could physically ever manage. The person taking the photograph never sees the full reality able to be imaged until the machine shows it back to her or him. Worship Apollo! Never has his light shone so strong!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But then …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Take the photo home and stick it into Photoshop, and Dionysus can run wild! The technology works for both sides. In Photoshop, if she or he likes, the photographer can continue to emphasize Apollo with even greater intensity, heightening clarity to truly divine impact. Or she or he can explode the image entirely and in a burst of Dionysiac revelry create something entirely new, with effects ranging far beyond mere high definition reproduction!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photograph by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The technology is so new, the full potential of what might be done with a simple photograph these days hasn’t even begun to be explored. There is so much that anyone with even only a half-decent home computer can do, that it’s presently inconceivable just what a camera snap can be the starting off point for these days … Let your ecstasy take you where it will! Let’s go nuts! Or Bacchic, even …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But one thing does stand out to me in this proposition. The argument for Apollo has practically been lifted out of human hands strictly into the eye of the machine, while the argument for applying the ecstasy of the Dionysian principle still remains strictly within the vision and direction of the human agent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Only the machine can see and provide the highest level of form and rational order that can be portrayed through photography these days. If a human isn’t even capable of physically perceiving the detail a scene can be captured in, than who’s really leading the process here? It’s really nothing more than a human deciding that some scene might make a good composition, but not really knowing what they’re shooting for sure until the camera tells them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While when you want to fill a photograph with surging vitality, the human still has to be the one to step in and infuse the energy into the image. The machine is better than we’ll ever be at capturing the form and order, but it don’t care spam about surging vitality.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_M4q1hlGkNE/VYF05VMptdI/AAAAAAAAD5w/ZQm_DHg2qLY/s1600/gods%2B07%2Brose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="474" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_M4q1hlGkNE/VYF05VMptdI/AAAAAAAAD5w/ZQm_DHg2qLY/s640/gods%2B07%2Brose.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photo Montage by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So obviously I arrive back at the same conclusion I started out with. A really good photographer will understand and apply both the Apollonian and the Dionysian principles to her or his work. Only even more so with today’s technology.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But there’s still more to think about here. Let’s tackle light, ecstasy and the encounter next week.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For more photography by Renee Beaubien, go to <i>Beyond the Prism</i> on Flickr, at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>https://www.flickr.com/photos/128997372@N08/</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The lightning continues to strike in <i>The Electric Detective</i> Chapter Thirteen, on Monday, June 15th, while Dusky Dredful makes an unusual step into a semi-dramatic mock up of Arthur Miller’s <i>The Crucible</i> on Friday, June 19th. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Revelations and witch trials! Flying gargoyles! An Episode presented for the first time almost entirely as a single dramatic monologue! The tension and mystery mounts …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Twelve: Kafka-Ish — Metamorphos-Ish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Thirteen: Finney-Ish — The Invasion of the Hotel Detectives</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Fourteen: Miller-Ish — Tempering the Cauldron</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-16283225377913451362015-06-10T06:32:00.002-07:002015-06-10T06:32:18.155-07:00physicality of words<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>The Return of Marcel Petard?</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IxlKDetDu_k/VXg5jh1c94I/AAAAAAAAD20/Ul2GR-LZkxE/s1600/pet%2B01%2Bcritic.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IxlKDetDu_k/VXg5jh1c94I/AAAAAAAAD20/Ul2GR-LZkxE/s400/pet%2B01%2Bcritic.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What was I thinking?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Me, the guy who regularly blogs about pretentiously nonsensical published literary criticism? I write a review of Ron Romanowski’s new poetry collection <i>A Reader’s Guide to the Unnameable</i> last week, and as part of it I pen a line like “He provides imagery that finds its own path, circling the poems’ themes and leaving the reader feeling surrounded.”?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Portentous, pretentious, and nonsensical? I confess to the first two — hopefully because then the line will therefore also be quotable and may find its way onto the back of Ron’s next book — but I dispute the last. I happen to mean what I say.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I spend all day with words, and as a result, they take on a physical reality for me that not everyone experiences. The idea of words genuinely performing the actions of circling and surrounding a theme and reader is a real thing to me. And I found that happening in Ron’s poetry, with his particular style of inundating the reader with cascading imagery. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Take for example the last few stanzas of “Moon Drops: Wherein Time May Not Equal Light”:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">God-scent in a rosehip or the combustion</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Chamber of a motorcycle engine the roar</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Of a brand name IED see-through yoga pants</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bought for a discount no one will see me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Posing since the sixties after paperbacks of Swami Sutra</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Make a glass road of lunar pathway images</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Up the lumbar river luna’s petites lunes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Lead from glass to window’s ledge through</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Garage edge thorough telephone wires through</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Lower earth orbit half her life in sickbeds</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Should build our own family hospital</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Read The Time traveler’s Wife three time</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To realize clothes make the fiction bedclothes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Make doctors into patients sick chapels dot com</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leading to the moon step on them every</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Step to the sea of tranquility breathless</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">See what I mean?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ron himself sums up the concept best perhaps in one of the central pieces in the book “One-Minute Date Night: Cubic Woman May I Introduce Cubic Man”:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Let’s forget our eyes for a while, don’t need the eye test</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Run over the work as texture, optic nerves as fingers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Think of the friends one can make by just stepping</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Into their embrace. Where is desire? It’s in holding thingness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’ve always thought words hold physical presence as well as meaning. Seeing words take form flowing from my pen across a notebook page or waterfalling down a computer screen is an necessary existential part of my day. To my eye, that is beauty and order appearing in the world. No matter how nonsensical what I may actually be writing may be at the time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I picked it up from good company. Can’t possibly list them all here, but some best examples might be the lugubrious Howard Phillips Lovecraft and my much loved William Burroughs to start with:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Just before he made the plunge the violet light went out and left him in utter blackness. The witch — old Keziah — Nehab — that must have meant her death. And mixed with the distant chant of the Sabbat and the whimpers of Brown Jenkin in the gulf below he thought he heard another and wilder whine from unknown depths. Joe Mazurewicz — the prayers against the Crawling Chaos now turning to an inexplicably triumphant shriek — worlds of sardonic actuality impinging on vortices of febrile dream — Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Goat with a Thousand Young …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">from “The Dreams in the Witch-House”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With their diseases and orgasm drugs and their sexless parasite life forms — Heavy Metal People of Uranus wrapped in cool blue mist of vaporized bank notes — And The Insect People of Minraud with metal music — Cold insect brains and their agents like white hot buzz saws sharpened in the Ovens — The judge, many light years away from possibility of corruption, grey and calm with inflexible authority reads the brief — He appears sometimes as a slim young man in short sleeves then middle-aged and red faced sometimes very old like yellow ivory — “My God what a mess”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">from <i>Nova Express</i></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p3n_8HlW7S8/VXg6iQha83I/AAAAAAAAD3U/qOvnlcAbSC4/s1600/pet%2B05%2Bburroughs.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p3n_8HlW7S8/VXg6iQha83I/AAAAAAAAD3U/qOvnlcAbSC4/s400/pet%2B05%2Bburroughs.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Words that step up and physically assault you. It can happen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">China Miéville’s <i>Embassytown</i> novel uses this concept as the central core of its theme. On an unimaginably alien — except to China Miéville — planet, the natives actually make use of their human invaders as part of their language. The female protagonist of the novel physically becomes a metaphor in the alien language, having to physically perform the act that establishes her as “A girl ate what was given her”. Whenever the aliens want to express this particular concept and what it means metaphorically to them, they evoke the woman to represent what they want to say.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mv0AYROd2q8/VXg6sFapusI/AAAAAAAAD3c/xJhLbjhoqvI/s1600/pet%2B06%2Bembassy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mv0AYROd2q8/VXg6sFapusI/AAAAAAAAD3c/xJhLbjhoqvI/s400/pet%2B06%2Bembassy.jpeg" width="262" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sort of like what Marcel Petard’s become for me. A hockey defenceman renowned for scoring goals into his own net.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LlmbjLoLMjY/VXg7DJwAJvI/AAAAAAAAD3k/mcyH7OULpHE/s1600/pet%2B07%2Bstross.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LlmbjLoLMjY/VXg7DJwAJvI/AAAAAAAAD3k/mcyH7OULpHE/s400/pet%2B07%2Bstross.jpeg" width="248" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I just read a book by another science fiction writer, Charles Stross -- yes, <i>that</i> Rule 34 -- who plays the game by an even different set of rules. Technospeak become poetry. Almost. I wasn’t at all certain what he was talking about at times — and by that I mean following the science or the economics, not the plot — but I certainly love the way it sounds.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">IRIK’s credit rating has got to be in the shitter, so betting they’ll collapse is a sucker bet. What I think Kyrgyzstan is doing is, they’re selling CDSs to foreigners who expect IRIK to collapse under the debt. And they’re over-selling, selling multiple CDSs leveraged against the same asset. Meanwhile they’re using the income from the CDSs to reduce the debt load — until they arrange for reunification, which, with 72 per cent in favour, isn’t going to be hard. The idiots who bet on IRIK collapsing will miss out on the fat payout they were expecting: Serves them right. What interests me is why the IMF and the credit-ratings agencies aren’t yelling about it. The Kyrgyz government must have figured out a way to buy off the regulators and oversight agencies. So what’s the angle? There’s one obvious one: inward investment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">from <i>Rule 34</i></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Io36Lwv9uc4/VXg7YPepZ1I/AAAAAAAAD3s/s3Ku95VSTNs/s1600/pet%2B08%2Bpinter.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Io36Lwv9uc4/VXg7YPepZ1I/AAAAAAAAD3s/s3Ku95VSTNs/s400/pet%2B08%2Bpinter.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As Harold Pinter once wrote:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">FIBBS: Which ones don’t they like?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">WILLS: Well, there’s the brass pet cock, for instance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">FIBBS: The brass pet cock? What’s the matter with the brass pet cock?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">WILLS: They just don’t seem to like it any more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">FIBBS: But what exactly don’t they like about it?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">WILLS: Perhaps it’s just the look of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">FIBBS: That brass pet cock? But I tell you it’s perfection. Nothing short of perfection.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">WILLS: They’ve just gone right off it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">FIBBS: Well, I’m flabbergasted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">WILLS: It’s not only the brass pet cock, Mr. Fibbs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">FIBBS: What else?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">WILLS: There’s the hemi unibal spherical rod end.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">FIBBS: The hemi unibal spherical rod end? Where could you find a finer rod end?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">WILLS: There are rod ends and rod ends, Mr. Fibbs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">FIBBS: I know there are rod ends and rod ends. But where could you find a finer hemi unibal spherical rod end?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">from “Trouble in the Works”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Maintaining a taste for this sort of thing is really just a holdover from the childhood wonder of discovering reading for the first time. It’s not a mistake to start children off with the magic of nursery rhymes and the utter musicality of much of what is written for younger readers, hopefully with the intent of enchanting them so thoroughly with our language they won’t want to abandon the practice of it as they grow older.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My girl friend’s name is Lulu,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She comes from Honolulu.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With an ice cream scoop, and a hula hoop —</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My Honolulu Lulu.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Dennis Lee — “Lulu” from <i>The Ice Cream Store</i></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bcbaoJCvH30/VXg7qaWZAWI/AAAAAAAAD30/H_L-f_6uDQI/s1600/pet%2B09%2Blee.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bcbaoJCvH30/VXg7qaWZAWI/AAAAAAAAD30/H_L-f_6uDQI/s400/pet%2B09%2Blee.jpeg" width="297" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No, the mistake is brainwashing children to think they shouldn’t appreciate that sort of word-use anymore when they grow up! Our education system has got a lot to answer for.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thankfully there’s usually still some subversives out there who embrace silliness as an adult way of life as well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “What’s the word I’ve heard you use from time to time — begins with eu?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Euphoria, sir?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “That’s the one. I’ve seldom had a sharper attack of euphoria. I feel full to the brim of Vitamin B. Mind you, I don’t know how long it will last. Too often it is when one feels fizziest that the storm clouds begin doing their stuff.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Very true, sir. Full many a glorious morning have I seen flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, kissing with golden face the meadows green, gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy, Anon permit the basest clouds to ride with ugly rack on his celestial face and from the forlorn world his visage hide, stealing unseen to west with this disgrace.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Exactly,” I said. I couldn’t have put it better myself. “One always has to budget for a change in the weather. Still, the thing to do is to keep on being happy while you can.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Precisely, sir. Carpe diem, the Roman poet Horace advised. The English poet Herrick expressed the same sentiment when he suggested that we should gather rosebuds while we may. Your elbow is in the butter, sir.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">P.G. Wodehouse — from <i>Much Obliged, Jeeves</i></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ez-Ok6uXeeM/VXg79xMlA2I/AAAAAAAAD38/NonM4QcBQeY/s1600/pet%2B10%2Bjeeves.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ez-Ok6uXeeM/VXg79xMlA2I/AAAAAAAAD38/NonM4QcBQeY/s400/pet%2B10%2Bjeeves.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Marcel Petard may well return to the ice rink of my blog writing — probably on a regular basis, I have no illusions concerning my own consistency. But I think on this particular occasion, I’ve made sufficient argument to indicate even he might manage to miss his own net occasionally.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lou Moons and Googie Girls! The Body Snatchers Invade to send up a scifi classic Monday, June 8th in Episode Thirteen, with the results posting on Friday, June 12th. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What really happened in <i>avant, beta</i>, after ninety percent of its characters were hijacked into the Contest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Twelve: Kafka-Ish — Metamorphos-Ish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Thirteen: Finney-Ish — The Invasion of the Hotel Detectives</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-15820109244599887812015-06-03T06:48:00.004-07:002015-06-03T06:48:53.334-07:00readers guide to the unnameable<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyone who reads Ron Romanowski’s new collection of poetry <i>A Reader’s Guide to the Unnameable </i>will know I’m not an unbiased reviewer, as soon as they look over the acknowledgements. Where Ron states that I and a few others were early readers of some of the works included in the book.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I won’t say I had any effect on the development of the book, as I didn’t have a clue where Ron was going with it from the eight or so poems he sent me during the book’s gestation. I merely gave him the most honest impressions I could of what I read, as a poet of his status deserves nothing but the objective truth. If I thought the piece worked, I said so, if I thought what he was showing me didn’t, I told him that too and tried to explain why.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It was too long ago for me to remember the process well enough to know if he took my advice or not regarding the final form of the poems I critiqued in the book, but I do know this: I like the book. And I’m more inclined to give the credit for that to Ron for pulling the collection together the way he really wants it to be rather than to anyone who might have given him out-of-context suggestions along the way. There’s too much of a coherent thread running through <i>A Reader’s Guide</i> for that not to be the case.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But being in on a book’s genesis does give a reviewer a little background insight someone who doesn’t know the poet might not have. As it happened both Ron and I tackled the same series of biographies on Picasso around the same time, and I gave up before he did. I complained I found the biographer too focussed on miniscule detail and gossip, rather than larger themes. Ron phoned me up sometime later and said I was right! But that was okay! That was a cubist approach to biography, and he didn’t mind that at the moment, because he’s writing cubist poetry in the new book!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The back of <i>A Reader’s Guide to the Unnameable</i> mentions that among other themes, Ron is continuing to work on “definitions of authorship and identity”. His last two collections, <i>the big book of canadian poetry</i> and <i>Incantations From The Republic Of Fire</i>, took these issues much to heart, as Ron wrote the works as if they had been produced not just by him, but also by five other distinct poets, the New Festival Theory group, with their own distinct histories and personas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The displacement of authorship isn’t so clearly delineated in <i>A Reader’s Guide</i>, but is still there. Many of the pieces are not from the point of view of Ron Romanowski, but reflect the experience of a persona within the poem. I’m not even certain if you can call this persona a character per se, as in a novel or play, as Ron seems to be taking the exploration of authorship beyond that dimension. Ron creates the character and situation, and then the character writes the poem. Except it’s really all Ron. Or is it? How far does he get lost in these people’s lives?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The first poem, “The Fall Girl”, lays out the theme of the title, <i>A Reader’s Guide to the Unnameable</i>. An unthinkable event occurs that must be dealt with by those who are left behind. Ron’s book is here supposedly to offer some guidance on how to do that. </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“His granddaughter was found hanging in a garage, right up and over the beam. / This loose carousel of a season had dangled her, / symbiotic lost-and-found month rustling life to the ground.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Despite the horror, life must go on, as illustrated in “The Fall Girl (Coda)”:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>If her death was not inevitable there is no cure.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>If her death was inevitable there is no cure.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>It was inevitable but that is no cure.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This isn’t a black and white world. States seemingly in contradiction exist simultaneously, and every aspect of their existence must be granted weight equally. So it doesn’t matter if the crime against your sensibility is unnameable, still you go on, carrying that fact with you. Every angle seen at once — a cubist existence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He examines the concept head-on in one of the central poems from the book — “One Minute Date Night: Cubic Woman May I Introduce Cubic Man”:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Because of perspective. Let us set our own pace</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The book goes on in the same manner, happy moments, more tragedies, different personas, deep personal insights, all juxtaposed on the pages creating a strange balance which might leave some readers feeling somewhat unsettled if they can’t accept this isn’t the usual sort of rhythm one might expect in a single point-of-view poetry collection. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ron’s is a voice out of order challenging assumptions of the accepted angles of approach. He provides imagery that finds its own path, circling the poems’ themes and leaving the reader feeling surrounded. He can leap from the fine detail to the grand cosmic view in the slip of a line or turn of phrase. Any conclusions suggested on the micro-level always leave larger unresolved implications on the macro.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ron supplies the reader with tight shifting pictures, with one thought rapidly taking up a continuing argument before the last one’s done simmering. His language can dare you to keep up and sometimes might annoy you when you want to go a different direction then it generally takes you. But I think one of the most important themes at the heart of this book is that Ron Romanowski is not afraid to remind us of the broken people, and take up their easily dismissed tragedies as matter for deeper emotional connection. As in “The Fall Girl”, “1400 CC’s Stricken at the Crossroads”, “For the Lake Boys”, and others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And then to balance the cubist composition again, he also provides us with “Great-grandmother’s prize zucchini casserole”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I found my favourite piece to be the four page “North America”, which I think best exemplifies the cubist theme in one poem. The language tumbles across the page in a quiet, entrancing tangle of dynamic equilibrium, resolving near the end finally in “</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>all the facts / footnotes / a reader’s guide / with fettering author’s footnotes</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Is that the most we can hope for from a collection of poetry to explain the simultaneity of conflicting events our non-linear lives constantly throws at us? In an attempt to guide us through the unnameable, can any author give us anything more significant than “fettering footnotes”?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I would say no, in Ron’s case. I think <i>A Reader’s Guide to the Unnameable</i> reveals a more liberating experience in its reading than fettering us in its creator’s formal references.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No, I would say instead Ron Romanowski is more an accomplished practitioner of song and dance storytelling, providing us with a narrative thread through the disparate works to lead us in, and then performing a bit of the quick soft-shoe to tap us out. Because while we all keep on dancing to keep ahead of the unnameable, the tragedy, and the approaching fire, Ron doesn’t let us forget we never stop loving and smiling either.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>A Reader’s Guide to the Unnameable</i></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ron Romanowski</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Augustine Hand Press, 2015</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>The Electric Detective</i> continues with Chapter Twelve on Monday, June 1st, while we take a new look at an old story, care of Jack Finney (who?) in Episode Thirteen, starting Friday, June 5th. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Surprise murders, witchy metafictional existential discussions, and strange visits to a hotel’s greenhouse …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Twelve: Kafka-Ish — Metamorphos-Ish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Thirteen: Finney-Ish — The Invasion of the Hotel Detectives</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-9546999099644514312015-05-27T05:57:00.001-07:002015-05-27T05:57:18.139-07:00r.i.p. nash the slash<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Sundog Rising!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Alash, Poor Nash</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The local concert I most regret missing happened sometime around 1979 — I’m not certain of the date. Nash the Slash played the Festival Cinema, a hole in the wall indie-theatre now a pizza joint on the corner of Sargent and Arlington. A one man show, complete with a live performance of his self-composed soundtrack accompanying a showing of Luis Bunuel’s and Salvador Dali’s <i>Un Chien Andalou</i> on the Festival screen. From all reports it was an evening of legend. I always lived in hope that he’d come back and redo that sort of thing someday when I could catch him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Except … while checking information for an earlier blog, I found out poor Nash died just over a year ago, May 10th, 2014, at the age of 66. The circumstances were mysterious — as they should be, given it’s Nash — but rumour has it a heart attack got him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">His look was the first thing that made him appealing of course. The tuxedo, top hat, sunglasses and bandages. When I finally did get to see him live at the Winnipeg Art Gallery on his Children of the Night tour, he wore his traffic cop uniform instead of the tuxedo, which I was always a little disappointed by. The bandages and glasses were still there, however.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a great concert. Nash was hailed as an early one man band technical genius, performing mostly on electric violin and mandolin, surrounded by a host of drum machines and other programmable technological instruments he liked to refer to as “devices” in his liner notes. But he was a down-to-earth genius. My favourite memory from the concert is the image of Nash bashing one of his devices repeatedly with his fist to get it to play right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Nash was a founding member of the prog-rock group FM, which paradoxically never made it big until after his solo career took off. He played with the group again in the 80s and 90s, while still performing his one-man shows as well. He was one of the first independent artists in Canada to start his own record label, Cut Throat Records. His music was … well, very Nash.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He did a lot of covers, maintained a certain horror image, threw in social and civic commentary in a variety of his own compositions, did straight instrumental electronic music, and had a pronounced classical streak. <i>Decomposing</i> was a 1981 vinyl EP featuring three instrumentals that could be played at any speed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I think a pretty representative 10 song Nash the Slash mix would consist of “The Chase” from 1979’s <i>Dreams and Nightmares</i>; “Wolf” and “Dead Man’s Curve” from 1981’s <i>Children of the Night</i>; “Pretty Folks” and “Vincent’s Crows” from 1982’s <i>And You Thought You Were Normal</i>; “Psychotic Reaction” and “Who Do You Love” from 1984’s <i>American Bandages</i>; “Guns and Sandwiches” from 1999’s <i>Thrash</i>; and “Baby O’Reilly” and “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” from 2008’s <i>In-A-Gadda-Da-Nash</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No one would claim Nash the Slash had a golden voice, but he had a way of biting out lyrics that stood out. My brother, one of the ultimate Stones fans, couldn’t help commenting after hearing Nash’s take on “19th Nervous Breakdown” how Nash gave the cover a presence all his own simply by emphasizing the lyrics so clearly. Doing things like working in phrases from Prokofiev’s <i>Peter and the Wolf</i> in instrumentals like “Wolf” and making them sound like completely integrated rock riffs was also a trademark. As one critic wrote back in the seventies, Nash might be electronic, Nash might be classical, but he never loses sight of that rock Slash. No electric guitars in his act, but always the same impact.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Where’d the name come from? From a murderous butler in a Laurel and Hardy silent movie! How can you go wrong?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes, it would have been good to see Nash do the soundtrack live to <i>Un Chien Andalou</i>. There were rumours that he wandered out into the night and performed the piece again outdoors at the Winnipeg Folk Festival back around 2010, but I’ve never met anyone who can confirm that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As my son Dylan grew up and developed his own musical heroes, there was one double bill we both would have paid good money to see. Nash the Slash and Buckethead. It was only a dream, alas, never to be realized now. But what a show that would have been!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Part Two of Episode Twelve, Kafka-Ish hit the Net Monday, May 25th, and the results are announced on Friday, May 29th. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Debating the philosophical pros and cons of the insect life, with a sword fight (sort of) tossed in for good measure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Twelve: Kafka-Ish — Metamorphos-Ish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-78626105913156865452015-05-20T06:08:00.004-07:002015-05-20T06:08:39.154-07:00finding an audience<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Knowing Your Audience</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Know your audience. One of the basic precepts of Introduction to Creative Writing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The idea being that if you know who your audience is, you will write exactly what they want to read. Or conversely, if you know who likes the sort of thing you write, you target your marketing towards that sort of personality.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Most of my stuff goes out over the Internet these days. I don’t have a clue who my audience is, or how they even find me …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I decided as an important exercise in literary development I should at least try to define who I see my audience as. A phrase came to mind unbidden and practically immediately that I think embodies the concept quite well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My audience consists of reasonably intelligent, unpretentious sorts with good senses of humour.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What a pleasant bunch of people to know, I thought! — if only through the written word. When I pondered the concept further however, getting down to specifics, I began thinking … oh oh. This isn’t a very large group.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Let me deconstruct my statement. Reasonably intelligent. All right, what do I mean by that?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well-read, to begin with. Sort of goes without saying. They wouldn’t have found me if they didn’t read in the first place. However talking to my son and thinking of conversations around the lunch table with my ex-co-workers and the experiences my wife and other people I talk to relate and thinking of the family and all, I come to the practically inescapable conclusion … practically no one reads anymore. So I lost most of the population right there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In fact, I recently came across a study that stated 80% of American families did not buy or read a book last year. I doubt the numbers are much different for Canada. So if I add in the calculation that my stuff isn’t even in the bookstores …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’m going to start a new advertising campaign for myself. You have to spin things positively.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>John H. Baillie! The author over 90% of all Canadians agree not to read!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Moving on then — unpretentious.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That’s a positive trait for anyone to have. But then I look at the current state of mainstream Canadian Literature, an industry entirely subsidized by the Government for the overindulgence of the academic community and those who aspire to an ivory tower supposedly coated in maple syrup and therefore erroneously defining our national identity and I realize writing in this country is the very seat of pretension for the nation! So the Canadian writing community is the last place I want to look to for a lack of pretension — I’d do better going after the infinitely larger, infinitely more faithful hockey crowd — except they’re the folks who don’t read!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">How many Canadian novels published in the last thirty years does this plot summary represent? “Something’s gone wrong. I think. Gee, I don’t have a clue.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Okay, so on careful examination I discover my first two points reveal I am alienated from 98% of the market I am supposedly trying to reach. What about the third point? Someone who reads me must have a good sense of humour.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What do I mean by a good sense of humour? I once worked out that there are five basic styles of delivering humour. One — be disgusting, because for some reason a huge percentage of the population finds disgusting hilarious; two — be topical, meaning rely on political jokes or on humour making fun of current events in every field, meaning your laughs generally mean nothing after about a month when the world moves on; three — focus on your family or your ethnicity, humour that rarely goes out of style, but you need a light touch, otherwise you end up sounding bitter and disrespectful; four — slapstick, your physical humour, which isn’t exactly designed for the written word so much as the visual approach; and five — actual wit, taking language apart and throwing it back at you in ways that make you appreciate it anew.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I like the last two best. I’m not above the third, but you have to be careful. And I will occasionally descend to the depths of the first, but I don’t really care for it myself. I only use the second very occasionally, due to the short shelf life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now analyzing that assessment, I realize I’ve shot myself in the foot again. I only occasionally use disgusting humour, but the largest audience is looking for precisely that. There’s also a fairly sizeable audience who are into the political humour approach, but you have to be fast off the mark there, and ultimately, I’m just not that interested in politics to satirize it properly. I’m cautious about using family and ethnic humour, and slapstick doesn’t really transfer well to the printed page. Although I try.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Which means I like best the idea of wit, which is the hardest to do and probably has the smallest audience. A lot of people don’t get the joke. Or even realize there was one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the immortal words of Rocky and Bullwinkle:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Bullwinkle: You got that reference, Rock?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Rocky: Yup.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Bullwinkle: Millions won’t.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’m running out of feet here to shoot myself in with my definition of audience. Sometimes you need to be an octopus to be a successfully unsuccessful author.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Okay, let’s be reasonable and turn things around. People are a lot more intelligent than anyone gives them credit for, including me; there’s nothing more pretentious these days than writing a blog and I’ve entirely adapted to that practice; and a few good jokes sprinkled in the right spots are going to reach the people the other obstacles I place in my path will prevent some readers from appreciating what I do. I’ll willingly hoist myself on my own petard if it means getting one more reader. (You remember Petard? Marcel Petard, played defence for the Habs in the sixties?)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I’m going to stop worrying about how to find my audience, and settle for hoping you find me. You know who you are, you don’t need my help defining yourselves. And if you have found me already, you are all obviously women and men of rare discernment, regardless of how else you see yourselves. And I hope there’s no end to that range of definition …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I think what’s most important is that I would like to make any reader of mine feel special. I certainly think you are.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>The Electric Detective</i> Chapter Eleven goes up on Monday, May 18th, while part one of Episode Twelve, Kafka-Ish hits the Net on Friday, May 22nd. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Metamorphos-Ish”. It was a natural. The big question is, who gets to be the bug?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Twelve: Kafka-Ish — Metamorphos-Ish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-50312196339015857422015-05-13T09:18:00.002-07:002015-05-13T09:18:13.837-07:00russellography<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I would list Ken Russell as directing 22 feature films worth noting. In fact, he was involved in so many different projects in so many different ways, it’s hard to put a number on his output. And I’m completely ignoring his substantial body of television work in this list as well. But of the 22 films I am noting, I’ve seen 15. As I’m not particularly a movie maniac, this is a pretty high rating for a single artist’s work from me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I haven’t seen:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>French Dressing </i>(1964)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Billion Dollar Brain </i>(1967)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Music Lovers </i>(1970)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Savage Messiah </i>(1972)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Russia House </i>(1990)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Lion’s Mouth </i>(2000)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The one I most regret not being able to track down is <i>The Music Lovers</i>, Russell’s biopic of Tchaikovsky with Richard Chamberlin as Tchaikovsky.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Women in Love </i>(1969)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Devils </i>(1971)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Boy Friend </i>(1971)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Mahler </i>(1974)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Tommy </i>(1975)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Lisztomania </i>(1975)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Valentino </i>(1977)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Altered States </i>(1980)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Crimes of Passion </i>(1984)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Gothic </i>(1986)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Lair of the White Worm </i>(1988)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Salome’s Last Dance </i>(1988)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Rainbow </i>(1989)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Whore </i>(1991)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Fall of the Louse of Usher </i>(2002)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Some more than once.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xhTbTvPfhyg/VVN1wNpAnxI/AAAAAAAADt8/7WixSuS7s5g/s1600/ken%2B03%2Bken.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xhTbTvPfhyg/VVN1wNpAnxI/AAAAAAAADt8/7WixSuS7s5g/s400/ken%2B03%2Bken.jpeg" width="315" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">From worst (and Ken can be pretty bad) to best (but he can also be incredible), I’d give Mr. Russell a personal pov report card like this. I don’t expect anyone in the world to agree with me. Ken Russell is not the sort of artist who fosters consensus of opinion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Lisztomania </i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(1975) — It would have been better without Roger Daltrey in the title role. I saw this movie both in the theatre and then later again on television. The sheer ridiculousness of it carried a certain weight in the theatre, but on TV it just appeared dull. An extended music video that got out of hand.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E61Wbf1Hh1o/VVN2GFqG8fI/AAAAAAAADuM/PJbtrZojAjI/s1600/ken%2B05%2Btommy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E61Wbf1Hh1o/VVN2GFqG8fI/AAAAAAAADuM/PJbtrZojAjI/s400/ken%2B05%2Btommy.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tommy</span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1975) — trying to do too much with too many. I know it was a hit at the time, but again too much flash-bang, with too many disparate stars mugging it up competing against each other with Oliver Reed somehow stuck in the middle pretending he can sing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That’s it for the bottom. Every other movie by Ken I’ve seen I at least liked. Some struck me more forcefully than others, however. On the next level up, we’ve got:</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eWG0oXdRLMM/VVN2RCCC7iI/AAAAAAAADuU/i-4zsaBy7bg/s1600/ken%2B06%2Bwhore.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eWG0oXdRLMM/VVN2RCCC7iI/AAAAAAAADuU/i-4zsaBy7bg/s400/ken%2B06%2Bwhore.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Whore</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1991) — Theresa Russell turns in an heroic acting job. The strangest scenes stick with you. The film was more or less repressed in North America, at the same time <i>Pretty Woman</i> was making it big. Russell famously stated that at least his movie told the truth about a prostitute’s life. But very brightly, in typical Ken Russell overblown colour.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vRQOLZSBI7Y/VVN2gsuWU3I/AAAAAAAADuc/oXRbImFZGUQ/s1600/ken%2B07%2Bmahler.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vRQOLZSBI7Y/VVN2gsuWU3I/AAAAAAAADuc/oXRbImFZGUQ/s400/ken%2B07%2Bmahler.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Mahler</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1974) — starring Robert Powell as the composer and Georgina Hale as his muse. Oddly enough, I found this movie a bit dull, needing a little more flash-bang. (I may be joking -- you figure it out.) Again, I know I’m in the minority, as <i>Mahler</i> is generally considered one of Russell’s finer works. Maybe it’s just the composer that doesn’t grab me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Gothic</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1986) — the night Byron, Percy Shelley, and Mary Shelley told each other their ghost stories and Mary Shelley was inspired to write <i>Frankenstein</i>. With Gabriel Byrne as Byron, Julian Sands as Shelley, and Natasha Richardson as Mary. A truly nightmarish party, with some powerful scenes again very difficult to get out of your head. The feeling of the inevitable devolution of the evening into terror is quite effective. Followed by a happy picnic the morning after.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oAWKm3Kr1nI/VVN2-R-NU5I/AAAAAAAADus/D0QR-a4o3i8/s1600/ken%2B09%2Bworm.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oAWKm3Kr1nI/VVN2-R-NU5I/AAAAAAAADus/D0QR-a4o3i8/s400/ken%2B09%2Bworm.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Lair of the White Worm</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1988) — One of Bram Stoker’s other novels getting a modernized Grand Guignol send up, with Amanda Donohoe as the worm woman and Hugh Grant being terribly English. Silly, really, but oddly entertaining. Especially the bagpipes snake charming scene.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Moving on one more layer upwards:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Rainbow</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1989) — the second of Russell’s two related D.H. Lawrence movies, this one actually a prequel to <i>Women In Love</i>, featuring some of the same characters. Especially the central character Ursula Brangwen, here portrayed by Sammi Davis in a wonderfully uninhibited characterization. Glenda Jackson gets to play the mother of the character she made famous in <i>Women In Love</i>. Also featuring Amanda Donohoe and Paul McGann, a restrained — for Russell — treatment of the novel, not quite as bohemianly grandiose as <i>Women In Love</i>. But you could say the same of Lawrence’s two novels.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pVneAsSGQ-k/VVN3XSuYsgI/AAAAAAAADu8/o8dXDcXBAW0/s1600/ken%2B11%2Bsalome.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pVneAsSGQ-k/VVN3XSuYsgI/AAAAAAAADu8/o8dXDcXBAW0/s400/ken%2B11%2Bsalome.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Salome’s Last Dance</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1988) — Russell making the excess work. Theoretically a performance by the inmates of a brothel of Oscar Wilde’s notorious play, <i>Salome</i>, put on for Wilde himself and his boyfriend, snuck into the cast as John the Baptist. Enjoyable in an odd sort of decadent manner it’s probably better not to admit to. Imogen Millais-Scott is compelling as Salome, an unusually elfin sort of transgender femme fatale.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NXOTh0tyaCs/VVN3kKg0ucI/AAAAAAAADvE/FgK07D9LUDA/s1600/ken%2B12%2Bstates.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NXOTh0tyaCs/VVN3kKg0ucI/AAAAAAAADvE/FgK07D9LUDA/s400/ken%2B12%2Bstates.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Altered States</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1980) — Russell takes on straight science fiction with Paddy Chayefski as scriptwriter. Unsurprisingly, the two egos clashed. William Hurt gives a solid performance as the scientist regressing himself back to a primeval form through drugs and a sensory deprivation chamber. Oddly enough, there’s an earlier, much scarier black and white obscurity starring Dirk Bogarde on more or less the same theme.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wdnS74cG9tE/VVN3xHbaLtI/AAAAAAAADvM/3aInxbt_j6c/s1600/ken%2B13%2Bcrimes.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wdnS74cG9tE/VVN3xHbaLtI/AAAAAAAADvM/3aInxbt_j6c/s400/ken%2B13%2Bcrimes.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Crimes of Passion</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1984) — definitely not a movie I’d watch with my wife. But very enjoyable on a variety of levels, nevertheless. Kathleen Turner does an even more engaging turn as Theresa Russell’s later <i>Whore</i>-role as China Blue, the prostitute with the double life, and the climactic scene in homage to Hitchcock’s <i>Psycho</i> reversing roles on Tony Perkins playing a depraved preacher is very effective. Throw in a brilliant little cameo by Annie Potts as a housewife psychologically incapable of being “funny”, and you’ve got a strange, X-rated little gem.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And at the very top of the list …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Valentino</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1977), which I said enough about last week. Recently learned that even Ken considered it a flop, but what the hell. Works for me.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T9gP06akrm0/VVN4JOWJkLI/AAAAAAAADvU/qUiEvCxcXRU/s1600/ken%2B14%2Bwomen.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T9gP06akrm0/VVN4JOWJkLI/AAAAAAAADvU/qUiEvCxcXRU/s400/ken%2B14%2Bwomen.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Women In Love</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1969) — according to Wikipedia, Russell’s “signature film”, and the only one he ever received a Best Director nomination for at the Oscars. It struck a note for its time, with full frontal male nudity and an unrelenting approach to both the sterility and the passion of Lawrence’s characters. With stunning performances by Oliver Reed, Alan Bates, Glenda Jackson, Jennie Linden, and Eleanor Bron.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_0rqqYPYWVw/VVN4Vu6lXBI/AAAAAAAADvc/nFpA5nr49WY/s1600/ken%2B15%2Bboyfriend.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="309" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_0rqqYPYWVw/VVN4Vu6lXBI/AAAAAAAADvc/nFpA5nr49WY/s400/ken%2B15%2Bboyfriend.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Boy Friend</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (1971) — starring Twiggy and Tommy Tune. I saw this on the late movie on television one night back in the late seventies and was blown away. A totally nonsensical musical, that never seems to be mentioned anywhere anymore, but didn’t do that bad at the time. Twiggy won the Golden Globe for Best Actress in a Musical Comedy for it. Ken Russell using his powers of excess for good. Just plain delightful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And the number one Ken Russell movie of all time, that no one has apparently ever seen in its entirety …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Devils </i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(1971) — Based on <i>The Devils of Loudon</i>, by Aldous Huxley, a nonfiction account of a major case of apparent demonic possession of a convent of nuns in 1632. Oliver Reed plays the priest chosen as the scapegoat by the religious authorities to be tortured and martyred to expiate the obvious high degree of sinning going on. Vanessa Redgrave plays the head of the convent. So … throw Ken Russell and a convent full of naked nuns acting out their wildest fantasies and you’ve got a mixture that you don’t end up surprised by reading the full uncensored version of the movie has never been shown. The North American release was apparently more heavily cut than the European version. I saw it on TV, so who knows how much I missed. Still powerful and so definitively Ken Russell. Especially when the well-muscled, hippy lead exorcist comes swaggering in in his John Lennon wire rim glasses wielding a mighty crucifix … One of Oliver Reed’s most stunningly realized roles. Just for the record, it’s a good book too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I left one movie off this list. 2002’s <i>The Fall of the Louse of Usher</i>, which was actually the last new Ken Russell film I saw. The reason I don’t rate it against the others is because it’s really little more than a home movie Russell made fooling around on his estate with family and friends. Of course, in a Ken Russell home movie you do get scenes like the singing group The Medieval Baebes appearing as a particularly wanton witches’ coven, so it’s got its own weird appeal. Not a great movie by any means, but odd in its own right. And as certain of my own characters like to say, there’s a lot to be said for oddness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But what really sticks out about this movie for me is a line in the credits. Not only does Ken Russell write, produce, direct, and star in this movie, he also does all the cooking. I have to admire that degree of auteurial thoroughness in an artist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fittingly, during a week I’m doing a Ken Russell retrospective, the Competitors tear each other apart as in no other Episode, as Poe-Ish, “The Usher Motel” concludes on Monday, May 11th. See who’s left standing on Friday, May 15th. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And Pearl never did get her soup.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-29141457925039102152015-05-06T06:21:00.002-07:002015-05-06T06:21:22.741-07:00two rudis and ron<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I mostly classify Ken Russell movies as films I shouldn’t try to watch with my wife.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I did try once. On a highly unusual night back in 1981, when we were still dating. The Winnipeg Art Gallery featured a unique entertainment double feature one Saturday evening, Ken Russell’s <i>Women In Love</i>, followed by a concert by Nash the Slash on his <i>Children of the Night</i> tour. Naturally I rushed out and got tickets for both. Big mistake.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Renee made it through <i>Women In Love</i>, but bailed out after Nash’s first song. More because of the volume than anything else, being a lover of the more refined decibel levels of classical music and jazz. I caught up with her after the concert back at her place. She was deprogramming herself by watching a Chevy Chase-Goldie Hawn movie on the late show. She forgave me again and we got married anyway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After all, it wasn’t as bad as the first date I took her on …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ken Russell was a British filmmaker who died in 2011, famous for a style focussing on excess, especially regarding sexual matters; for mixing cultural crossovers in his productions sometimes more successfully than others — casting rockstars Roger Daltrey from The Who as Franz Liszt and Ringo Starr as the Pope in <i>Lisztomania</i> for example; and for ostensibly making biographical movies but choosing to do so more by focussing on the rumours surrounding his famous subjects’ lives and presenting them as the main story — such as Tchaikovsky supposedly struggling with homosexuality by marrying a nymphomaniac wife in <i>The Music Lovers</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ken Russell also made an astounding number of films. More on that next week. I’m only interested in one this week.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1977’s <i>Valentino</i>. Starring Rudolph Nureyev.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Doing a little background research I was pleased to discover the movie was a bit of a hit in Britain. Because it tanked abysmally in North America.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It played for about one week in Winnipeg. And this was pre-video. To my knowledge, it was never shown on network television. It’s taken this long for the flick to resurface for me. I saw it in the theatre during that one week it played. It was a dismal day, raining, I had a cold, very little was going right. I thought the movie was brilliant. I came out of it thinking I had discovered a new hero for a different sort of mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I always wondered if maybe my reaction was tempered by the circumstances under which I saw the movie. I was set up that day to enjoy anything with a bit of life to it. And one thing you can never say about Ken Russell movies is that they lack energy. So I tried to track <i>Valentino</i> down on video in later years, but it was never available. In fact, there was a surprising dearth of any Ken Russell movies available on video through normal channels in my town. Then, about six months ago our cable company offered a movie channel free for a month, and for whatever reason, <i>Valentino</i> qualified under their mandate and I was able to PVR it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Although we talked about it, ultimately I decided not to watch the movie with my wife. I have learned a few things over the years. On the whole I think I made the right decision. Not that the movie is anywhere near as over the top as <i>Lisztomania</i>, which Russell made just before <i>Valentino</i>, but there are definitely some moments which must be categorized as thoroughly Ken. But I would still argue, even after a second viewing almost 40 years later, there is still enough to the movie beyond that to justify my original opinion of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This movie was hyped to the gills before it came out. Rudolph Nureyev was making his film debut. On top of that, it was “Rudi plays Rudi”, one romantic icon portraying a second, in a typical Russellian crossover of artistic disciplines. Nureyev the ballet superstar as Valentino the silent screen superstar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I recall seeing the movie on one of its first nights, before the general critical reaction on this continent became known. I walked out of the theatre thinking, “Well, there’s a hit for sure!” Something like two nights later Johnny Carson was berating Nureyev live on the <i>Tonight Show</i> concerning how he felt about starring in such a turkey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Some of the flak was directed at Russell of course, since Ken Russell never made a single movie he didn’t take flak for. But the bulk of the sniping fell on Nureyev. He was the bigger name with more on the line, and in the general public’s opinion, he had fallen sadly short. <i>Valentino</i> proves Nureyev can’t act! Not true. His second movie, 1983’s <i>Exposed</i>, proved that. Actually, the more I learn about the actual Rudolph Valentino, the more I realize what an amazing job Nureyev did portraying him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I think where the movie fell short for the general audience in North America was because Russell didn’t take the approach of doing nothing but glorifying his subject. Valentino was a cultural outsider, doing something new, that did not meet with universal acceptance in the early 1920s. Certainly on one hand he was an unprecedented superstar, with an image that he couldn’t possibly live up to. And then the whole circus was over in only five years, with his unexpected early death. But on the other hand, he was a foreigner in a culture trying to find his way as something entirely new, and not entirely acceptable. Something like Rudolph Nureyev trying to make a movie that would satisfy North American audiences in 1977. I would argue Ken Russell’s <i>Valentino</i> primarily and successfully shows the story of a man trying to stand up for his own personal sense of self in a world swirling madly and inexplicably out of control around him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While I couldn’t help noting the ham-handedness of some of Ken Russell’s direction on my re-viewing, there’s still some brilliant moments. And a mix of impressive turns combined with a few throwaways by a stellar cast. Some of whom obviously got what they were doing more than others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With a Ken Russell movie you should never entirely lose sight of the cross-pollination going on created by the juxtaposition of Ken’s choosing to do things like cast Rudi Nureyev as Rudi Valentino. One of my favourite scenes is when Rudolph Nureyev playing Rudolph Valentino hauls Carol Kane onto the dance floor for a mad tango to “Kiss of Fire”, to antagonize Kane’s character’s Fatty Arbuckle-like boyfriend. The mere idea of either Nureyev or Valentino tangoing with Carol Kane … Let alone both together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Leslie Caron is over the top as the over the top early screen diva Nazimova, so it’s difficult to say if that’s a mistake or not. She’s certainly very much Ken Russell. But then she’s also still very much Leslie Caron, and that’s not a bad thing. Michelle Phillips — Mama Michelle — proves that some musicians can act, turning in a very strong portrayal as Valentino’s genuinely weird-in-her-own-right second wife, Natacha Rambova. AKA Winifred Hudnut. When is somebody going to make a movie about her?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And casting the ex-Bowery Boy Huntz Hall as the studio mogul Jesse Lasky was brilliant. Especially the scenes with the vulture and the ape.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But the movie was mostly shot in England, and it’s some of the British actors stepping up to portray crazy Americans that contribute the most impressive performances. The never-fail Peter Vaughan is particularly able as the Chicago newspaperman Valentino challenges to a boxing match for impugning his manhood near the end of the movie, and Felicity Kendall, better known on these shores for the light-hearted <i>Good Neighbours</i>, is nothing short of remarkable as June Mathis, the woman who made Valentino Valentino.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But it is Nureyev’s performance that finally makes the movie work. And that is because, in a typical twist of uniquely Ken Russell movie magic, you never forget you’re watching Rudolph Nureyev playing Rudolph Valentino. It’s not just the dancing. It’s not just a ballet superstar who shouldn’t have to put up with such things having to put up with the indignities Valentino did. Anymore than Valentino should have had to. It’s the quieter moments. When Nureyev is just Rudi. Squared in this case, but still Rudi.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The last ten minutes of the movie are finally what make it still a success for me. I actually considered skipping them on my re-viewing, because I couldn’t believe the end-scenes would work for me with my older, more conservative outlook on life and art. I was afraid they’d just turn out to be another example of Ken Russell’s occasional ham-handedness, and I’d lose the lustre from a rather precious memory from the seventies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But no. From the moment Peter Vaughan has his first scene to the end of the credits rolling, the movie is brilliant. Rudolph Nureyev/Valentino at his best, and still showing me there can be a different kind of hero in the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Works for me, anyway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Ron Romanowski’s Book Launch, May 4th</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>A Reader’s Guide to the Unnameable</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Augustine Hand Press, 2015</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Sponsored by the MayWorks Festival</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You don’t often have a poet open and close a launch by singing one of his poems at you, but then Ron isn’t a conventional sort of poet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Integrating everything but a little soft-shoe into his presentation in McNally-Robinson’s arts and crafts alcove, Ron entertained a group of 40 with readings from his sixth collection, <i>A Reader’s Guide to the Unnameable</i>. As Ron stated, the book takes its title theme from the first piece, “The Fall Girl”, detailing a tragic event it seems unlikely people can move on from, but do. Having to deal with the emotion of an event they don’t want to face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A heavy theme for the book, but the launch stayed light, Ron engaging his audience with a personable, enthusiastic, and cheering performance. Ably introduced by Nurit Drory, offering a short recap of the intros she’s done for Ron’s previous five books.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ron pointed out the cover of the book has been remarked upon as a potential recruiting poster for a new poetry cult. He’ll take the names of anyone interested.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The lightning’s still flashing in Chapter Ten of <i>The Electric Detective</i>, posted Monday May 4th, and Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish, starts on Friday, May 8th. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To quote the legendary Forrest J. Ackerman, how Grand was my Guignol? Edgar Allan meets Alfred Hitchcock in “The Usher Motel”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eleven: Poe-Ish — The Usher Motel</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-3309666472473245672015-04-29T06:14:00.004-07:002015-04-29T06:14:41.447-07:00david lynch - 3<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">David Lynch — such a happy guy, why such dark movies?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I haven’t read enough of his interview books or studied enough of his approach to art — which ranges far beyond film — to begin to answer that question, of course. But I did read <i>Catching the Big Fish</i>, where David outlines his approach to life and creativity. Achieve a state of bliss each day through transcendental meditation, then let everything flow from there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This does seem like a counterintuitive process to anyone familiar with the bulk of Lynch’s work. Frank Booth came out of a state of bliss?! <i>Lost Highway</i> emerged from someone having a good day? <i>INLAND EMPIRE</i> is all about what springs from the joyful things in life?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The thing is to look a little deeper and find the emotional balance to the darkness present in almost all his work as well. Laura Palmer ascending at the end of <i>Fire Walk With Me</i> — a much maligned movie that doesn’t deserve its criticism. Julee Cruise singing “The World Spins” as we find out who the murderer is on <i>Twin Peaks</i> — because he’s killing again at the same time — and people feel it. That’s very important. That people feel the presence of the evil in their lives. Everyone jumping up and dancing to Nina Simone’s “Sinner Man” at the end of <i>INLAND EMPIRE</i>. The sunshine and lawnchairs back triumphant at the end of <i>Blue Velvet</i>. The ears back where they’re supposed to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And David himself singing at the end of <i>Eraserhead</i>, “In Heaven, everything is fine. You’ve got your good things, and I’ve got mine.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Okay. I admit even I can’t think of a single redemptive moment to go with <i>Lost Highway</i> but it’s still a good flick. And just because I haven’t found the moment yet doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’ve only seen the movie once. And most people walk out of a David Lynch movie the first time they see it feeling like they’ve been hit over the head with a plank.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This may sound odd, but I believe the reason David Lynch movies work so well is because horrible as they are, they do arise as he says from someone with a genuinely positive outlook on life. Let’s be honest, there are any number of movies out there portraying horrible worlds. But the hearts of these worlds generally are only maudlin or unperceptive at best, which waters down the experience. Having something genuinely good at the centre of Lynch’s universe creates such a deeper contrast the mix carries so much more force. Start from a state of bliss and you can make even a nightmare appealing when you get past being chilled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I like this idea. I’ve only written one work where I decided to let my central characters be straight out heart-damaged nihilistic murderers — a book of poetry naturally, titled <i>We Might Have Been Up To Little Somethings</i>. Haven’t found anything even remotely resembling a market for it, so it may end up yet on a blog. All my life I’ve resisted working with characters like that, for two main reasons. One — I think it’s a cheap trick. Too easy to manipulate the reader by, no subtlety. Two — I don’t particularly enjoy the thought of being engulfed in such a character’s head. Or letting them in mine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I suppose I had something of a Lynchian epiphany writing <i>Little Somethings</i>, as the darker my characters’ existence grew the more I found myself focussing on what was still good in their lives. They grew more and more distanced from it, but had the self awareness to know that. As a result of that knowledge, it became increasingly important for them to find a way in which to pass on what they were losing as they sank deeper into their own path to destruction. When I finished the account, I realized it was a manuscript that actually made me feel good about myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Of course, nobody’s dared to read it yet. I’ve offered …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So in an odd sort of way, if you give yourself permission as David Lynch does to start from a base of light, you can explore the darkest shadows you want to safely. And the brighter your light, the darker the shadows you can delve into.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Just remember to sing at the end of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mind you, even that can have its mystifying implications. My all-time favourite scene from any David Lynch film — and I have many — will always be Rebekah Del Rio in the Club Silencio singing “Llorando” from <i>Mulholland Drive</i>. You know the one. Where the singer drops to the floor unconscious halfway through the song, and the voice keeps on singing …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The MayWorks Festival of Labour & the Arts 2015 Presents the Book Launch of:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>A Reader's Guide to the Unnameable</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">by Ron Romanowski</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">McNally Robinson Booksellers 1120 Grant Avenue Winnipeg</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Monday, May 4th, 2015 7PM</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">See the poetry video by Dylan Baillie: <b><i>http://bit.ly/1JgD1Gf</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">More on MayWorks Festival events: http://mayworks.org</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A book launch and literary thrill-ride for poetry fans and everyone else by one of Winnipeg's most experimental poets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">is avant-garde Winnipeg writer Ron Romanowski’s sixth poetry collection.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">His first, <i>Sweet Talking</i>, was published in 2004.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">His work has appeared in journals and in numerous anthologies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">His poetry has been read on national CBC Radio.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ron continues to work with, among many other cutting-edge themes,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">definitions of authorship and identity in his latest collection.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Part Two of "Hamlet the Barbarian" went up on Monday, with the results posting on Friday, May 1st. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Continuing the debate on what’s culturally inappropriate, and what’s just plain inappropriate. Also — who can really quote the last line from <i>Hamlet</i>? It may surprise you!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. The complete roster of 34 Contestants have now appeared, so we move on to the supporting cast, the Judges, and the Guest Judges.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-77491317590017580132015-04-22T06:21:00.000-07:002015-04-22T06:21:04.686-07:00david lynch 2<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I read David Lynch’s <i>Catching The Big Fish</i> last week, his book on Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity. He wrote it to raise funds for his Foundation for Consciousness-Based Education and World Peace.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes, I’m talking about <i>that</i> David Lynch. You know — <i>Blue Velvet</i>, <i>Twin Peaks</i>, <i>Mulholland Drive</i>? Purveyor of terror and nightmares most of us would prefer not to face? <i>Eraserhead</i> David Lynch?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">David’s on a crusade of sorts to bring peace to the universe through transcendental meditation. While <i>Catching the Big Fish</i> does read like a tract written by a somewhat unconventional Jehovah’s Witness at times, it has a lot more substance to it beyond that. Plus some fascinating insights into Lynch’s creative process and opinions on film.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But the thing is — as he explains himself — David Lynch likes to explore the world from a state of bliss, and that certainly comes across. For someone who makes such dark and fearsome movies, he’s really a very happy guy. Subject for a whole other line of thought next week.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">David believes he’s onto something by introducing meditation early into the education system, as he says has been done with some startling results in a number of schools in the States already. Producing some very positive results. Late in the book he mentions small groups of advanced meditators getting together to exert a positive influence on their immediate world:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i> The theory is that if the square root of 1 percent of the world’s population, or 8,000 people, practices advanced meditation techniques in a group, then that group, according to published research, is quadratically more powerful than the same number scattered about.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i> These peace-creating groups have been formed for short-term studies. And every time the advanced meditators got together in a group, they dramatically affected the area around them. They measurably reduced crime and violence. How did they do that?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Good question, David. I’m not one to buy into this sort of thing, but I have to admit, even reading his book seemed to put me in a positive frame of mind. I’ve been having some nasty nightmares lately — see future novels — but the night after I finished reading <i>The Big Fish</i> I had wonderful, positive dreams the whole night, and awoke feeling strangely refreshed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have given this meditation thing a shot in the past. David says when you really connect and transcend, you open yourself up to a much deeper state of creativity, and that’s when you can catch the Big Fish — the best, and deepest ideas.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tYEwnQJ-Xwo/VTeemUnF4II/AAAAAAAADnE/ffYoXvxqsNI/s1600/lyn2%2B05%2Bcreate.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tYEwnQJ-Xwo/VTeemUnF4II/AAAAAAAADnE/ffYoXvxqsNI/s1600/lyn2%2B05%2Bcreate.jpeg" height="400" width="249" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">David specifies that the relaxation technique alone won’t take you to a transcendental state, and I believe I have to agree with him on that. I approached the discipline using only the relaxation technique, since I don’t have a formal faith atom in my body, and I never experienced a state like those David describes. Except once, back in the eighties, which I brought myself to strictly through writing poetry. However even though I used a less than effective method according to David, I did have some surprising results.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’m still alive for one thing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There was one day back in early 2005 before I was diagnosed as having a tumour the size of a small pear in the left atrium of my heart when I was still trying to function as if I could live normally. Other miserable circumstances — since rarely does only one horrible thing happen to you at a time — put me in a situation where I had to walk ten blocks through a freezing Winnipeg winter to catch a bus. One wrong heart beat and I was dead from a massive stroke, the tumour blocking the blood flow to my body. As it was my lungs were filling with blood that couldn’t move through my heart properly due to the obstruction. Needless to say, about a block into the ten, I wasn’t doing so well …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I meditated my way the full distance to the bus stop. I was not in good shape by the time I got there. But I was — and am — still alive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I first started practicing the technique I also found I could catch some little fish if not the Big Whopper by doing so. Here are a couple of the poems that came to me as I delved as deep as I could manage, then anyway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Pondering Crimson</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With arrogant charm I assure myself</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">of the immutability of colour and place,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">but in the centre of my profound attainment</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">you disturb my complacency with a placid smile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I retreat with fleeing self-assurance,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">no longer certain — losing myself in crimson</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">assures my place in Arabian nights</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">generated by the distant, uninformed imaginings</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">that have always fuelled</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">my every desire of dreaming.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I perceive no loss</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">in moving from complacent to complaint;</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I give myself up to the changes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">that must result from my recognition that</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">no object is stationary in this universe</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">— especially not your smile</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">— and I launch myself headlong</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">from the tallest peak of doubt</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">to fall gloriously</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">through vibrant space, deep, deep,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">submerged and submerging</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">into the fathomless pool</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">of your oh so personal quiet ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The Ancient Sands of Egypt</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Beneath this sun, I cannot be — </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">begin to fall, to crumble, to drift ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">fine, infinitely grained,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">wind-tossed,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">almost liquid, living ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">beyond thought,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">slow as the desert</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">moving towards the tomb.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ages pass. Another joins me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the shadow of the grave,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">regaining form</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">we are lovers until the sunrise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then the 5000 gods of Egypt</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">render us sand once more</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">but mixed ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">each infinite grain</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">loving just as profoundly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">each other infinite grain</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">as did the whole</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">as all the ages of man</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">pass by with a last, gentle</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">sigh ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As a matter of fact, the title piece (and title obviously) for my published poetry collection, <i>Destination Mutable</i> came out of this experiment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There’s definitely something to be said for goin’ fishin’.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">*****</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The MayWorks Festival of Labour & the Arts 2015 Presents the Book Launch of:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>A Reader's Guide to the Unnameable</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">by Ron Romanowski</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">McNally Robinson Booksellers 1120 Grant Avenue Winnipeg</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Monday, May 4th, 2015 7PM</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the Atrium</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">See the poetry video by Dylan Baillie: <b><i>http://bit.ly/1JgD1Gf</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">More on MayWorks Festival events: http://mayworks.org</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A book launch and literary thrill-ride for poetry fans and everyone else</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">by one of Winnipeg's most experimental poets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tickets not necessary. Admission is free.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>A Reader’s Guide to the Unnameable</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">is avant-garde Winnipeg writer Ron Romanowski’s sixth poetry collection.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His first, <i>Sweet Talking</i>, was published in 2004.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His work has appeared in journals and in numerous anthologies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His poetry has been read on national CBC Radio.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ron continues to work with, among many other cutting-edge themes,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">definitions of authorship and identity in his latest collection.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We’ve passed the halfway mark! <b><i>The Electric Detective</i></b> Chapter Nine posted Monday, April 20th, and the first part of (oh no — but I guess it had to happen) Shakespeare-Ish goes up Friday, April 24th! <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continuing at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Caroline has a name crisis thanks to an absent-minded author, and is the world really ready for … Hamlet the Barbarian?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Ten: Shakespeare-Ish — Hamlet the Barbarian</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. Working through the Contestants in order of their appearance. But there’s been some problems with the scanner, so appearances may be deceiving.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-2855724780903842142015-04-15T05:54:00.000-07:002015-04-15T05:54:00.530-07:00David Lynch - One<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Cinema is a lot like music. It can be very abstract, but people have a yearning to make intellectual sense of it, to put it right into words. And when they can’t do that, it feels frustrating. But they can come up with an explanation from within, if they just allow it. If they started talking to their friends, soon they would see things — what something is and what something isn’t. And they might agree with their friends or argue with their friends — but how could they agree or argue if they don’t already know?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">David Lynch — <i>Catching the Big Fish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I think this quotation raises a very interesting point. Art in any format is so subjective how can anyone truly argue its objective merits? Some questions regarding what a work is or isn’t might be more obvious than others on first look. Some people might argue they don’t find the <i>Mona Lisa</i> particularly attractive, but no one’s going to say it’s not a great painting. But what about say, oh I don’t know …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A David Lynch movie? Or Ron Romanowski’s poetry? (See below.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Almost anything Lynch has done is fair game in this discussion, with the possible exceptions of <i>The Straight Story</i> and <i>Dune</i>. <i>The Straight Story</i>’s pretty much … a straight story, sorry, can’t get around that one, and even Lynch admits <i>Dune</i> is just bad. For the record, David didn’t have final cut on that movie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But what about the brilliantly enigmatic <i>Mulholland Drive</i>? <i>INLAND EMPIRE</i>? Or <i>Lost Highway</i>? Or even his most arguably popular work, <i>Twin Peaks</i>? Or we could go really out on a severed limb and ask this question of … <i>Eraserhead</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Many people come out of any of these viewing experiences shaking their heads with a blank expression on their faces. Totally lost. They might as well have been reading poetry! Yet David says that when they sit down to discuss the piece, how could they agree or argue if they don’t already know what the movie is or isn’t for them?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I remember doing this, in fact … Bob France, Mike Cipryk and I went to a midnight showing of <i>Eraserhead</i> when it first played Winnipeg, God knows how many years ago. And we went back to Mike’s place afterwards to thrash it out. God knows we had opinions. Not that those opinions resolved anything for us about the movie that night, as I recall. I don’t think any of us hit on what I appreciated most about the movie when I saw it again finally two years ago — the weird positive spin and sense of redemption at the end of it. But then, I don’t think any of us were paying attention to the soundtrack when we first saw it. And that’s always a major mistake to make when experiencing a David Lynch movie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Out of the darkness and horror comes light and beauty at the end … The horror is real, but so are the angels. The shadows wouldn’t be so black without an equally potent contrasting presence in the films of light.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Which leads me to a topic for a future blog. How does such a happy guy as David Lynch make such nightmarish movies? We’ll take a look at what makes him so happy in the first place next week. But the point is, perhaps focussing on the undeniable nightmare always present in his work as most people do isn’t always the proper message to take away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because David Lynch makes some truly beautiful art. I don’t think I already knew that the first time I saw a few of his movies. But now that the idea’s in my head, I see everything differently.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But as for Ron, well … We all better go to the booklaunch on May 4th and make up our own minds about that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The MayWorks Festival of Labour & the Arts 2015 Presents the Book Launch of:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>A Reader's Guide to the Unnameable</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>by Ron Romanowski</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">McNally Robinson Booksellers 1120 Grant Avenue Winnipeg</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Monday, May 4th, 2015 7PM</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the Atrium</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">See the poetry video by Dylan Baillie: <b><i>http://bit.ly/1JgD1Gf</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">More on MayWorks Festival events: http://mayworks.org</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A book launch and literary thrill-ride for poetry fans and everyone else by one of Winnipeg's most experimental poets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tickets not necessary. Admission is free.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>A Reader’s Guide to the Unnameable</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">is avant-garde Winnipeg writer Ron Romanowski’s sixth poetry collection.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">His first, <i>Sweet Talking</i>, was published in 2004. His work has appeared</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">in journals and in numerous anthologies. His poetry has been read</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">on national CBC Radio. Ron continues to work with, among many other</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">cutting-edge themes, definitions of authorship and identity</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">in his latest collection.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Murder in an alien’s heart. Obsessive fixation on constructing mechanical women. And pirates, of course. Episode Nine takes a surreal, decadent dip into the world of E.T.A. Hoffman and Jacques Offenbach on Monday, with the results posting on Friday, April 17th. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Vadim Strakar strikes back at Slick Danny Grievous. What is this, <i>avant, beta</i>?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Nine: Hoffman-Ish — Dr. Hoffman’s Happy Gene Machine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. Working through the Contestants in order of their appearance. But there’s been some problems with the scanner, so appearances may be deceiving.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7171240007666893375.post-29848842500903910862015-04-08T06:16:00.004-07:002015-04-08T06:16:44.057-07:00compulsions<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Reflections on living the life literary by the Urban Sundog</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Positively Compelled</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With great reluctance, I recently had to make a lifestyle choice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I decided working on 4 novels a day caused me anxiety. So I’m going to have to settle for only 3 a day from now on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So what is this compulsion to write I experience? I won’t say I suffer from it, because quite frankly, outside of the anxiety of trying to balance 4 plots in my head at once, I enjoy it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The clinical term is hypergraphia. That’s Latin for “compulsion to write”. Not entirely illuminating, but it’s always nice to have a fancy name for your odder mental processes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The condition at its most extreme can be quite debilitating. Those who actually do suffer from it are compelled to write everything that goes through their heads, regardless of trying to organize those thoughts to tell a story or create a novel or whatever. Fortunately, in my case, my hypergraphia is nicely balanced by my other condition — hyperlexia. The compulsion to read. I don’t know if the fact that I spend practically every moment I can when I’m not writing reading has helped to focus my hypergraphia or not. Maybe after all my reading I just think the world should operate like a good novel, so I am compelled to write down my observations of it as if it does.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I think it’s a good mix. I admit I am perhaps an extreme example of both conditions. Trying to turn out at least three full novels a year and reading at least 100 plus books a year at the same time. It’s a good thing I like to cook too, and insist on getting out to the gym twice a week. Because when I’m speed-walking around the track I like to plot what I’m going to write next when I get home, and then —</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ahem. It’s a good thing I like to cook too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don’t feel this balance of compulsions in my life is a bad thing. In fact, I’ve been healthier in body and mind these last few years when I’ve been able to indulge my compulsions than I was for the first 35 years of my adult life. That says something.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If there is an inner compulsion I’m not admitting lying behind all this, I believe it’s a need to see the world in terms beyond the societally conventional to truly make reality come to life for me. Like any good hypergraphist, I admit everything I see and experience is fodder for writing. But more precisely in my case, fodder for story. Creatively interacting with my world, not just letting it roll over me. The same applies to my wife and her eye for photography. We’re looking at the world in different ways from most people, and that’s a good thing. Feeding our souls.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photo by Renee Beaubien</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It’s a luxury of a North American middle class existence of course, particularly as lived in Canada in my case. You don’t have these kind of options if you’re wondering where your next meal’s coming from or what new fresh hell is going to descend upon you today in a war zone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yet, maybe you need stories even more in those situations to make sense of your world. Stories have always been with us. It can be reassuring to know that whatever happens to you, you can write about it. Sometimes because you have to to let the rest of the world know what’s wrong with it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And then hopefully we’ll write about fixing that together afterwards.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>REALITY FICTION AND BEYOND!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lightning strikes, rendering the Detective truly Electric in Chapter Eight of <b><i>The Electric Detective</i></b>, posting Friday, April 10th. Already up on Monday — the less than satisfied winners and always discontented losers after the results are tabulated for Episode Eight, Lem-Ish. <b><i>Reality Fiction Three: The Interrupted Edition</i></b> continues at:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>http://realficone.blogspot.ca/</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ll be honest. The end scene on Friday is what inspired the entire story. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episodes to Date:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode One: Dante-Ish — Mak’s Inferno</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Two: Chaucer-Ish — The Hermit’s Tale</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Three: Malory-Ish — Le Morte de Mak</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Four: Doyle-Ish — Mak the Kipper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Five: Carroll-Ish — Madelyn in Wonderland</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Six: Stoker-Ish — The Down For The Count Shimmy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Seven: Tolstoy-Ish — Anna Makerena</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Episode Eight: Lem-Ish — So there is …</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All with illustrations by the author. Working through the Contestants in order of their appearance. But there’s been some problems with the scanner, so appearances may be deceiving.</span></div>
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Urban Sundoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117937287439169742noreply@blogger.com0