Semi-regular posting should resume tomorrow, which should be a day when I don't have a mountain of dishes staring at me, a movie to go to, people to see or six Indian dishes to cook. Until then, enjoy this verrrry exciting and somewhat offensive French disco song.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
The Resolutioning
Well, last year I decided to stick to five resolutions and hope that number would be reasonable enough. Let's see how I did:
Protagitron's Resolutions for 2009
Protagitron's Resolutions for 2010
Protagitron's Resolutions for 2009
- Learn how to cook Indian food Done!
- Read all of Remembrance of Things Past Er, 50% Done!
- Graduate Done!
- Visit New York City Done, with the postcards to prove it!
- Be more frugal Done! No, wait, d'oh. D'oh indeed.
Protagitron's Resolutions for 2010
- Watch Kieslowski's Decalogue
- Learn how to make worthy holibshi
- Visit Portland all by myself
- Knit 5 sweaters
- Be more frugal
Saturday, January 2, 2010
In The Attic: Not VC Andrews Related, Sadly
Don't let this fool you. People, I come to you with a warning.
DO NOT TRUST THOSE CZECHS.
While the wingnuts down South were concerned about the Socialists, they were missing out on the real threat: Czech infiltration of the Montreal art cinema scene. Don't believe me? Check out the write-up for In The Attic Cinema Du Parc posted:
IN THE ATTIC is a full-length animated film for children, but also adults who haven't lost touch with their inner child, their sense of imagination or joy of playing.Awww, you might be thinking, doesnt that sound precious? Why, it's like Wallace And Gromit meets The Velvet Revolution. Childlike whimsy with a dash of intellectualism, so you don't feel guilty about going out to the movies instead of picking up your Havel.
You would be wrong. Every part of that blurb was a damn dirty lie.
First, this is not a movie for children. It has a golden bust in sunglasses with detachable arms and lecherous intentions towards a plump, blonde doll. In an early scene, he gives her an obscene phone call. That's right, pack the juice boxes for the kiddies, because they'll love that.
The most hilarious and child-unfriendly moment comes after the evil bust's insectoid scientist has built a perfect replica of the doll. The bust calls all of his evil minions together to celebrate, and as the hordes of mask-faced bugs look on, he hits the music lights up the disco ball and the bass starts thumping. But the scene isn't over until the doll spoon feeds him jam.
I haven't tried any drugs that would make that make sense yet, but I'm pretty sure that if I did I would not be legally allowed to feed them to children. And taking them to this movie afterwards would move the charge from child endangerment to abuse.
The movie wasn't a complete waste and some aspects of the animation were inventive. I'm just not sure why they bothered, if they were only going to deliver a meandering head trip.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Auld Lang Why?
My apartment is freezing around the perimeter, so I have burrowed into the middle. Fortunately, that's where the TV is and my computer is portable, but I fear that I've become some crumb-speckled stereotype. I'm wrapped in a blanket, I'm checking Facebook and I've re-discovered the Christmas can of Pringles.
I swore I wouldn't eat all my Christmas candy in a few days. Oh well, I perjured myself, but I did so deliciously.
I'm currently enjoying being a hermit, but a certain very social day is coming up and I'm feeling a little concerned. Yes, it's almost New Year's Eve, or as I like to think of it, the night I get all maudlin and start to cry over drink specials about all the things I didn't do that year. After a few sloppy nights, including one awkward one with just the parents and a bottle of sparkling wine, I had decided that I would stay home every year from now on, but now I'm wondering if maybe I shouldn't go out.
After all, wouldn't the best way to ensure this decade is very different from the last would be to try something different? If I do go out, watch out if I'm drinking beer. Than the forecast of me getting weepy and treating you all to a boozy rendition of a Bruce Springsteen song gets very, very good.
I swore I wouldn't eat all my Christmas candy in a few days. Oh well, I perjured myself, but I did so deliciously.
I'm currently enjoying being a hermit, but a certain very social day is coming up and I'm feeling a little concerned. Yes, it's almost New Year's Eve, or as I like to think of it, the night I get all maudlin and start to cry over drink specials about all the things I didn't do that year. After a few sloppy nights, including one awkward one with just the parents and a bottle of sparkling wine, I had decided that I would stay home every year from now on, but now I'm wondering if maybe I shouldn't go out.
After all, wouldn't the best way to ensure this decade is very different from the last would be to try something different? If I do go out, watch out if I'm drinking beer. Than the forecast of me getting weepy and treating you all to a boozy rendition of a Bruce Springsteen song gets very, very good.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Three For Three
Somehow I made it through the holiday season and unto the other side with no eggnog poisoning or family drama. I also missed every single broadcast of It's A Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story and the Alistair Sim's A Christmas Carol, which rather makes me feel like Christmas shouldn't be over yet... but I'm watching Boxing Day ads on TV, so it is.
Before I left for my Grandma's house, I saw three movies in three days. First, I caught a preview screening of Sherlock Holmes on the 16th. Sure, it would have made sense to blog about it then, but packing had to be done. So, now the movie's come out and you've gone to see it (or Avatar), but if you haven't let me tell you that it's worth a Cheap Tuesday ticket price. It won't please any true Holmes fan, since it's pretty much Iron Man in a homburg, but it's never boring. It is occasionally confusing, especially the frantic cuts during a lot of the fight scenes, but the chemistry between Downey and Law keeps things humming.
Then, the day after, I went to the Dollar Cinema to see The Hurt Locker, which was worth a lot more than the $2.00 I paid for that. After that, it was Precious, which just kind of wrings you out. Both Mariah Carey and Monique are surprisingly good, although Gabourey Sidibe is even better. After that, I meant to see even more movies, but I grabbed a book instead. After all, if I kept that schedule up by February I would probably run out of movies to see and be reduced to something like Valentine's Day.
Ewwwww.
Before I left for my Grandma's house, I saw three movies in three days. First, I caught a preview screening of Sherlock Holmes on the 16th. Sure, it would have made sense to blog about it then, but packing had to be done. So, now the movie's come out and you've gone to see it (or Avatar), but if you haven't let me tell you that it's worth a Cheap Tuesday ticket price. It won't please any true Holmes fan, since it's pretty much Iron Man in a homburg, but it's never boring. It is occasionally confusing, especially the frantic cuts during a lot of the fight scenes, but the chemistry between Downey and Law keeps things humming.
Then, the day after, I went to the Dollar Cinema to see The Hurt Locker, which was worth a lot more than the $2.00 I paid for that. After that, it was Precious, which just kind of wrings you out. Both Mariah Carey and Monique are surprisingly good, although Gabourey Sidibe is even better. After that, I meant to see even more movies, but I grabbed a book instead. After all, if I kept that schedule up by February I would probably run out of movies to see and be reduced to something like Valentine's Day.
Ewwwww.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
City of Coughs
I'm sick with... something. It feels like an annoying hybrid of cold and flu. Fluld, if you will. I tried to go in to work this morning, but after flulding it up for an hour and a half - and spelling "scholarship" as "scholar schip" in my germ-addled haze - I went home to rest.
I've been indoors since on a steady tea and lentil diet, alternating between watching the Hustler, knitting, reading and Facebook stalking my friends who have the good sense and strong immune system not to get sick. It's all left me feeling a little gamey.
The reading material hasn't helped much either. It's The New York Trilogy, by Paul Auster. The prose moves quickly, it has some kind of plot, but in the end I'm left feeling hungry for something meatier. Between the linguistic games and painfully postmodern flourishes, it made me want a real detective story like nothing else. Like a lot of pomo fiction, it doesn't have the courage of its own genre convictions. Things start out well, and then plots deflate upon themselves, the characters veer between sounding like NYU professors and private dicks, then - wham- it's done. Still, when it's good, it's very good, so I'll put on my pile of "Books I Would Enjoy More If I Was A New Yorker," beside Motherless Brooklyn.
I do find that Penguin Classics cover by Art Spiegelman to be charming though. And maybe I would have liked it better if I hadn't been flulding my way through part of it.
I've been indoors since on a steady tea and lentil diet, alternating between watching the Hustler, knitting, reading and Facebook stalking my friends who have the good sense and strong immune system not to get sick. It's all left me feeling a little gamey.
The reading material hasn't helped much either. It's The New York Trilogy, by Paul Auster. The prose moves quickly, it has some kind of plot, but in the end I'm left feeling hungry for something meatier. Between the linguistic games and painfully postmodern flourishes, it made me want a real detective story like nothing else. Like a lot of pomo fiction, it doesn't have the courage of its own genre convictions. Things start out well, and then plots deflate upon themselves, the characters veer between sounding like NYU professors and private dicks, then - wham- it's done. Still, when it's good, it's very good, so I'll put on my pile of "Books I Would Enjoy More If I Was A New Yorker," beside Motherless Brooklyn.
I do find that Penguin Classics cover by Art Spiegelman to be charming though. And maybe I would have liked it better if I hadn't been flulding my way through part of it.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Emotional Knitting
Last night some of my neighbors decided to have a hoedown at what felt like 2am in the morning. I don't think i was in French. I don't think it was in English. I think it was just in yelling. And I kept on waiting for someone to yell at them to shut up, BUT IT NEVER HAPPENED. Seriously, I thought Quebecois folks would bitch at someone past 11:30, but apparently not in my neighborhood.
And then the snowplows came.
Since it felt like they were coming through my room at 6 in the morning, I am left to conclude that it's more than my windows being painfully thin - that, somehow, they've been engineered to magnify sounds. All this is to say that I'm not the perkiest of chaps this morning. So I've decided to respond by doing something I haven't done in a long time: KNIT!
Well, okay, I've been knitting plain socks, but those don't count. Those are necessity to survive a Montreal winter. I am, however, short on cardigans, especially since my last knitted one has been pulled and stretched quite out of shape. So, I've cast on for an Elizabeth Zimmerman pattern. Since it's an Aran knit in the round (read: looong rows) it's not that exciting, but I have high hopes.
At least until I get to the steeks.
And then the snowplows came.
Since it felt like they were coming through my room at 6 in the morning, I am left to conclude that it's more than my windows being painfully thin - that, somehow, they've been engineered to magnify sounds. All this is to say that I'm not the perkiest of chaps this morning. So I've decided to respond by doing something I haven't done in a long time: KNIT!
Well, okay, I've been knitting plain socks, but those don't count. Those are necessity to survive a Montreal winter. I am, however, short on cardigans, especially since my last knitted one has been pulled and stretched quite out of shape. So, I've cast on for an Elizabeth Zimmerman pattern. Since it's an Aran knit in the round (read: looong rows) it's not that exciting, but I have high hopes.
At least until I get to the steeks.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Book Covers I Have... Found Interesting
Due to technical difficulties, the already-delayed cover post will be delayed even further. Until then, I want to talk about something I noticed while book shopping.
If you're a woman of a particular socioeconomic background, you might have noticed that a little movie called Julie and Julia came out over the summer. Sure, it didn't make bank the way Transformers 2 did, but it had decent legs, a lower overhead and at least 100% less Shia LaBoeuf. It had hardback copies of Mastering The Art of French Cooking selling like hot brioche and people - often mother-daughter combos - lining up for tickets.
The critical response was pretty harsh on the Julie side of the equation. They found her whiny and narcissistic, which made me feel bad for Julie Powell. Sure, she's guilty as charged, but so would anyone be if you compared them to Julia Child. And, unlike many of us, Powell brings some self-deprecation and occasionally witty writing to the modern condition of chronic navel gazing.
Now she's got another book out, all about how she learned to be a butcher while... cheating on her husband, last seen being canonized as the saintly eater and cleaner of the earlier book. Speaking of moms and movies, you should have seen my Mom's face fall when, after we had just finished taking a screening in, I told her what Powell's latest book was all about. And while the butchery might sound suitably Child-esque, let's just say that some S&M and rough sex makes it in. I don't think that was ever a chapter in Mastering The Art of French Cooking.
So, how do you sell a book that trades in the cheerful self-fulfillment of the first, successful book for something much darker? Let's see:
Wait a minute, that looks curiously familiar:
Okay, so it's more of a similar colour scheme thing, but don't tell me there isn't a resemblence. Check it: the fleur-de-lys motif of the cookbook and the hearts at the corner of the memoir. I guess the answer is "Make it look as similar to what inspired the first book as possible, and just hope that people get really confused."
An interesting thing to note though. The styling of Powell's book is more self-consciously retro than the older cookbook. Maybe that's to provide a visual cue that the monogamous, heterosexual couple will be comfortably repaired to 50s sitcom perfection, a conclusion the book apparently avoids.
If you're a woman of a particular socioeconomic background, you might have noticed that a little movie called Julie and Julia came out over the summer. Sure, it didn't make bank the way Transformers 2 did, but it had decent legs, a lower overhead and at least 100% less Shia LaBoeuf. It had hardback copies of Mastering The Art of French Cooking selling like hot brioche and people - often mother-daughter combos - lining up for tickets.
The critical response was pretty harsh on the Julie side of the equation. They found her whiny and narcissistic, which made me feel bad for Julie Powell. Sure, she's guilty as charged, but so would anyone be if you compared them to Julia Child. And, unlike many of us, Powell brings some self-deprecation and occasionally witty writing to the modern condition of chronic navel gazing.
Now she's got another book out, all about how she learned to be a butcher while... cheating on her husband, last seen being canonized as the saintly eater and cleaner of the earlier book. Speaking of moms and movies, you should have seen my Mom's face fall when, after we had just finished taking a screening in, I told her what Powell's latest book was all about. And while the butchery might sound suitably Child-esque, let's just say that some S&M and rough sex makes it in. I don't think that was ever a chapter in Mastering The Art of French Cooking.
So, how do you sell a book that trades in the cheerful self-fulfillment of the first, successful book for something much darker? Let's see:
Wait a minute, that looks curiously familiar:
Okay, so it's more of a similar colour scheme thing, but don't tell me there isn't a resemblence. Check it: the fleur-de-lys motif of the cookbook and the hearts at the corner of the memoir. I guess the answer is "Make it look as similar to what inspired the first book as possible, and just hope that people get really confused."An interesting thing to note though. The styling of Powell's book is more self-consciously retro than the older cookbook. Maybe that's to provide a visual cue that the monogamous, heterosexual couple will be comfortably repaired to 50s sitcom perfection, a conclusion the book apparently avoids.
Monday, December 7, 2009
O Tannenbaum
The 'Tron tree has been purchased and put up. Look at the awesomeness:
I walked to the tree lot that's at the corner of Frontenac and... Sherbrooke, I think? Anyway, it's open 24h and run by these two delightful men who were hilariously surprised that someone had come walking up to buy a tree. I was surprised that they were, because they were tons of houses around, but maybe I'm the only shiftless sort without a car. One of them told me to come back and buy my tree there next year.
I wonder if I will be.
I walked to the tree lot that's at the corner of Frontenac and... Sherbrooke, I think? Anyway, it's open 24h and run by these two delightful men who were hilariously surprised that someone had come walking up to buy a tree. I was surprised that they were, because they were tons of houses around, but maybe I'm the only shiftless sort without a car. One of them told me to come back and buy my tree there next year.I wonder if I will be.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
20 Years After December 6
Hello, friends. Sorry about the absence. Between the mom's visit and an office Christmas party, I was either acting too much like a teen, or drunk like a teen, to do too much blogging. Even the book covers thing didn't get done. I've had a lot of things on my mind lately, from the banal (Christmas presents) to the tragic (the 20th anniversary of the Polytechnique massacre.) A great prof posted this video:
I had started watching it earlier in the day, after reading this Babylon, PQ editorial. I was intrigued by the photo Jamie O'Meara described and the controversy behind it. I wanted to see it for myself, so I could decide whether it was moving or just grotesque. Oddly enough, this video critiquing its placement on the front page the morning after the massacre also appears to be the only place you can see the photo online.
I started watching it, and while I agreed with what she was saying about Barbara Frum's line of questioning, I couldn't agree with her on the McInnis photo. Partly, it's because I'm generally disposed to think that a society should be assaulted with graphic depictions of the violence it's played a part in.
And it's also because, on a human level, it's such a revealing photograph. I doubt taking down the holiday decorations would have helped the police in their investigation. Instead, they probably just couldn't stand the cruel contrast between the banner and the bodies they were dealing with. That's the emotional level, there's also the social one. If this had been a photo of domestic violence instead, they probably would have left them for the cleanup crew to deal with. That they wanted to change the space show just how much this was a public massacre and mourning, from the location in a school to the vigils, and how its interpretation would be negotiated in that area.
So I was annoyed that she kept on going back to the photo, cropping out the newspaper and even the rest of the photo even as she decries its graphic and pointless nature. She's trading on the same visceral, gut reaction that she accuses the paper of exploiting and it's feels, well disingenuous. It also removes the context that most of the people would have been receiving this image as part of a news story. Still, it's an interesting video that reminds us, if a little flatly, how media frames stories and manages our reactions.
Never Forget: Geneviève Bergeron, Hélène Colgan, Nathalie Croteau, Barbara Daigneault, Anne-Marie Edward, Maud Haviernick, Maryse Laganière, Maryse Leclair, Anne-Marie Lemay, Sonia Pelletier, Michèle Richard, Annie St-Arneault, Annie Turcotte, Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz.
Reframing the Montréal Massacre from Maureen Bradley on Vimeo.
I had started watching it earlier in the day, after reading this Babylon, PQ editorial. I was intrigued by the photo Jamie O'Meara described and the controversy behind it. I wanted to see it for myself, so I could decide whether it was moving or just grotesque. Oddly enough, this video critiquing its placement on the front page the morning after the massacre also appears to be the only place you can see the photo online.
I started watching it, and while I agreed with what she was saying about Barbara Frum's line of questioning, I couldn't agree with her on the McInnis photo. Partly, it's because I'm generally disposed to think that a society should be assaulted with graphic depictions of the violence it's played a part in.
And it's also because, on a human level, it's such a revealing photograph. I doubt taking down the holiday decorations would have helped the police in their investigation. Instead, they probably just couldn't stand the cruel contrast between the banner and the bodies they were dealing with. That's the emotional level, there's also the social one. If this had been a photo of domestic violence instead, they probably would have left them for the cleanup crew to deal with. That they wanted to change the space show just how much this was a public massacre and mourning, from the location in a school to the vigils, and how its interpretation would be negotiated in that area.
So I was annoyed that she kept on going back to the photo, cropping out the newspaper and even the rest of the photo even as she decries its graphic and pointless nature. She's trading on the same visceral, gut reaction that she accuses the paper of exploiting and it's feels, well disingenuous. It also removes the context that most of the people would have been receiving this image as part of a news story. Still, it's an interesting video that reminds us, if a little flatly, how media frames stories and manages our reactions.
Never Forget: Geneviève Bergeron, Hélène Colgan, Nathalie Croteau, Barbara Daigneault, Anne-Marie Edward, Maud Haviernick, Maryse Laganière, Maryse Leclair, Anne-Marie Lemay, Sonia Pelletier, Michèle Richard, Annie St-Arneault, Annie Turcotte, Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz.
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