Saturday, November 12, 2005
So, last night I stayed home at watched movies. It was pretty relaxing. I rented two, C.R.A.Z.Y. – the Quebec film about a young man coming to terms with his homosexuality in 1970’s Montreal – well, I only assume they were in Montreal. It was very good. I really liked it.
The other movie I saw was Thirteen starring Holly Hunter as the mother of a troubled thirteen-year-old girl. From my vague memory, I think the film was made after interviewing several thirteen-year-old girls. But, I could be making that up.
I have to say that the movie got a lot of praise and I remember people saying that it was ‘disturbing.’ I was prepared for something disturbing, and I think it had the potential to be really effective, but the movie just falls apart for me for one main reason. Well, just let me summarize the plot for you:
After a pretty young white girl from a broken home meets a troubled racially ambiguous girl she spirals downward and ends up making out with young black boys.
You see, I simply can’t help but read this film racially. The American cinema still struggles with race and I think that black men and boys are often used as symbols of a society in crisis, or the ultimate form of trouble. This film is particularly blatant. In Thirteen, the world of drugs and teenage sex is filled with young black boys and the “bad” white girls who throw themselves at them. The safe and healthy world for the main character is filled with white people. Amazingly there are no black women in this film (the girls seem to go to a school where the black population is ONLY male). Well, except for one utterly random scene, two young black girls threaten the main character for reasons that are totally unclear.
I agree that many thirteen-year-old girls are more savvy that I was as a young teenager . Yes some are doing drugs and getting into trouble. However, I think that the only telling thing about Thirteen is that white America is terrified of black people, and somehow I don’t think that was the point the film was trying to make.
Friday, November 11, 2005
So, last night I was at the gym. As is my routine I spent some time on the treadmill. I think I mentioned before that my gym likes to play cheesy movies and classic movies. I have seen Rocky, and Dances with Wolves. On Tuesday I watched The Great Escape and Youngblood is in high rotation. Last night, it was Labyrinth. Or, more specifically, I watched the Making of Labyrinth. It was pretty captivating, actually. Also, bittersweet as there is a lot of Jim Henson in that movie, and, well, I cried the day he died (I love muppets). The best part was the shots of bowie standing on the edge of the set with a cigarette and a smile watching his stunt double get hung upside down.
Now, I remembered that Jennifer Connolly – pre breast enhancement and subsequent reduction – starred in this film with David Bowie. What I didn’t remember is that there is a scene where Connelly walks toward her bedroom window and there, standing IN her bedroom, is David Bowie – the Goblin King. I don’t understand why she didn’t start screaming, cause I would have.
I also learned an interesting bit of Trivia. As a teenager with no social life I watched a lot of Star trek Next Generation. The first doctor on this new Enterprise was Dr. Beverly Crusher, played by a woman named Gates McFadden. I remember a scene where she danced to “Isn’t it Romantic” with Lt. Data. They also broke out in an energetic tap number. My mom told me that McFadden was actually a dancer before she became an actress.
Last night I learned that she choreographed Labyrinth. And, that her name is actually Cheryl McFadden. Ah the crap you learn.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
So, I am about to make a bold statement. The hipster is dead. I fear the hipster has become too homogeneous to actually be the cutting edge. I ponder this in the open letter below.
Dear Current Hipster,
I know you think you are ever changing, placing yourselves on the edge of the trend constantly refreshing, transforming, renewing. I know in your minds you are resetting the scene. You are the ultimate of what is cool.
Hipster, you took over the 70’s slacker esthetic and refined it to its current state. And for that, I thank you. Boys have mended the holes in the brown sweaters and women are now embracing an image that I can only describe as ‘Velma revisited’. Everyone’s hair is a mess, but thankfully, you all keep it under a touque even while smoking ten thousand cigarettes in a hot crowded bar. The finest part of the uniform is the thick-rimmed glasses. Positively EVERYONE, and I do mean everyone, is wearing them. I didn’t realize, that an entire generation had such bad eyes.
In your desperate collective attempt to reject the mainstream you clamour for the newest music and imitate whichever burgeoning talent best describes the total love you have for the guy living on the third floor of your McGill residence. I know that Joanna Newsome now enjoys fabulous popularity among the 20 year-old-university-girl demographic (I have to say this is reminiscent of the fame Sarah McLachlan had, until we all came to our senses and finally sold Fumbling Toward Ecstasy and Surfacing to any used CD store who would pay 25 cents for it). Yes, Newsome has some success, hell, I even like that ‘Peach, Plum, Pear’ song. However, this does NOT mean the harp is a viable musical instrument for a rock band. Concordia music students frequenting St. Laurent bars from Maisonneuve to Laurier are now putting a harp on stage and attempting to sing in voices that sound a little too close to Lisa Simpson’s. Come on now, please stop it.
Don’t get me wrong, hipster, please don’t stop being your collective selves. On some level, we are all clones of each other. Everyone has their scene and every scene has its common esthetic. But, you seem to have brought homogeneity to a whole new level. You all look exactly the same. Goths do different things with their hair. The Gap set buys jeans with different cuts. Even black club girls (also knows as BET girls) have different coloured weaves. Why be so indistinguishable?
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
So, despite the drop in temperature I am feeling GREAT! It’s freezing here right now. It is a special kind of Montreal cold outside, but my office, for some reason, is like 28 degrees. It’s been like this for a week. Everyone comes to the office in layers so we can work in various states of undress and finish the day in a pair of jeans and a tank top. Not even the cold outsides and the uncomfortable office can get me down.
Two days ago I got some fantastic news. My favourite lingerie shop is called Secrets From Your Sister and is located in Toronto. In a desperate search for the brand of bra that I wear I called the store to ask if they knew where said undergarment is distributed in Montreal. See, for a woman like me, a good bra is like gold. I’ll wear a $7.00 t-shirt and a $150.00 bra. I am all about good bras and fun panties. Most people know this about me.
The people at Secrets were happy to hear from me. They asked how Montreal is and told me they missed me. Then they emailed me a list of stores in the Montreal area that carry Freya bras. There are only three. But that isn’t the good news. As it turns out, the Secrets from Your Sister people are opening a store here in Montreal. I am not kidding when I say that I bounced up and down with delight. They are currently just looking at locations but expect to be here sometime in January. I would work there for the bra discounts alone. Things could not be better!
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
So, I know what you are thinking, ‘I just can’t get enough Gomery!’ There is an orgy of news. I just want to go on the record saying that I think Jack Layton is posturing. He won’t support the Liberals now because they wont move on health care. If there is a non-confidence vote, he’d vote with the Bloc and the Conservatives. I think he is doing this because he knows that there is no way the NDP will win federally, he wants to punish the Liberals, and, they have to show the requisite rage just in case there is an election and they can sway more Liberal voters for an increased presence in the house. The killer thing is that neither Stephen Harper, nor Gilles Duceppe will actually call for a non-confidence vote. WOW! That’s polite. Stephen Harper commented (and this is the direct translation from his mother tongue, Binary) that he doesn’t trust Layton’s NDP to vote with the Conservatives as he’s been “burned by Layton before.” Burned, out maneuvered, whatever. Honestly, now that Harper won’t force a non-confidence vote, he kinda looks like a pansy. He’s supposed to be a bold new voice. So, now, we will see if a Parliamentary formality will force an election.
The government could still fall, if the money bill isn’t accepted on December 8th. How many of us want an election over the Holidays? Not many. I do have to say that I don’t understand why an election over the holiday season would be so terrible. Yesterday on the CBC they interviewed one woman who said, “I think the politicians should be home with their families.” I’m sorry, that’s just stupid. We shouldn’t have an election regardless of the circumstances because the politicians should be comfortable? Please, get a grip. Other than voter turn out, what is the big deal? We would have to pay attention to politics over the holiday season, God forbid!
If we do have an election, I think it will result in another Liberal minority government. Amazingly, the Liberals are STILL ahead in the polls. This, my friends, is HILARIOUS. Because, I think it is more of an expression of how much Canadians distrust the Conservatives.
Bla bla bla news! I’ll post something else in a little bit.
Monday, November 07, 2005
So, I just got some mildly upsetting news. I have a meeting in Toronto next Monday and Tuesday. That’s not the upsetting thing. I was excited to head to the big smoke. After the meeting I was planning to heading to one of my favourite spots in the city for two things. Those of you who read this blog regularly know what that means. It was time to go to The Gypsy Co-op, have too many martinis and leave the bar carrying a purse bulging with stolen candy.
While mentioning my plan to a friend of mine he sent this message:
“you will have some trouble stealing candy from gypsy now though... it's all behind the counter. they wised up after checking the video tape. busted!”
I’m stunned. I have a lovely bowl in my apartment over flowing with the sweet, sugary booty of many a night at the Gypsy Co-op. I have everything from Candy rings to candy necklaces. I have Popeye sticks and several packs of nerds. I don’t actually eat the candy, I admire it. It’s a statement.
At Gypsy the candy was displayed on a 100% accessible shelf near the door (hello, it practically begged ‘Steal me!’). The only thing that can make this tragedy better, is if they stocked the now unused shelf with 100% accessible cute boys. Really, it is the only answer. Can I get a witness?