Good morning from Will, who clearly knew my boss at the City of Rockingham.
Good morning from Willy S: writer of bitching plays; inventor of burplicious words; and, apparently, predictor of American Republicans…
I’m not sure what is says about me as a teacher, that I passed a “Shakespearean Insults” desk calendar at the calendar shop and immediately thought “That’s the very thing to greet my students with every day!”, but here we are.
So, if it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for we few, we happy few, we band of brothers.
Here’s biting my thumb at you.
All the Gods pass through here. The walls are thick with photos: Odin, back in the two-eyed days; Zoroaster poking two fingers up behind Zarathustra’s head; Kali with her arms around Mister Vitelli. A lot of Gods with Mister Vitelli. He might own the place, but you’ve never met a bigger starfucker in your life. And Mister Vitelli has lived several.
Truth is, nobody knows how long Mister Vitelli’s been around. I tried to map it out, once. Build a chronology using the photos as a guide. But times runs kinky here. Gods are natural phenomena. Black holes with daddy issues. Supernovae with bar tabs. The laws of physics and men get bent for party tricks in this place. All I know is, Mister Vitelli is old. Like, cosmic old. All the Gods call him ‘Mister’. That should tell you all you really need to know.
I saw him, once. From a distance. I was tending bar, trying to keep Circe and Freya from turning the bar top into a live action porn show. Again. He was at a table with a God I didn’t recognise. Someone lean, and modern, all darkness and bad intentions. Even through a halo of Goddess hair and love sweat, I could tell—this was a bad news kind of God, a no-future kind of God. And whatever he was pitching, Mister Vitelli was angry.
I’ve been trying to preserve half an hour a night for writing this year. No expectations, no markets in mind, just half an hour where, even if all I do is stare at a blank screen every night, I’m doing nothing other than writing behaviours. I’ve managed bugger all for a week, but tonight, well…… that. What you just read.
Maybe it’s a start. Maybe it’s nothing. I have no expectations.
But maybe it’s a start.
The first mixed movie quote for the year, and it’s a classic horror movie Lord 16 has been nagging us relentlessly since the age of twelve to watch. The Exorcist isn’t particularly scary anymore — after fifty years of imitations, homages, rip-offs, and downright immersion in the cultural zeitgeist, it’s still brilliant enough to be disquieting, and disturbing, but the sheer terror I underwent when watching it for the first time at age fourteen has gone.
So, because I am a loving and supportive father who wants my son to experience all the wonders and emotional highs I’ve gone through, I’ve set this quote to a movie I know gives him the creeping abdabs…… because that’s what love is.
Okay, a two-week holiday in far-off Perth has been achieved, complete with hoovering up Lego and graphic novels, meeting my new granddaughter, hoovering up books, Christmas, seeing our adult kids, hoovering up as many kebabs as my body could stand, hoovering up as many piece of pop culture shite as I could get my hands on, playing with my grandkids, and generally just slobbing about like Dave Lister if Red Dwarf was Australian and remotely worth watching any more.
All of which means, I’m in a much better place than when I last posted. To whit, let’s talk about the TV, films, books, and graphic novels I couldn’t bring myself to list when I posted my end of year review!Continue reading “2020 ADDENDUM: THE LISTS”
Yes, I haven’t blogged in the very longest time, but let’s be honest. It’s not like anybody really cares, or anything I say is contributing to the improvement of the Universe. Who cares, really? I’ve long since passed into irrelevance and the obscurity from which I briefly lurched.
Anyway, 2020, eh?Continue reading “2020 YEAR IN REVIEW: LET’S NOT, AND SAY WE DID.”
One of the things I’ve missed most since moving to Karratha is the opportunity to exhibit at my favourite annual arts exhibition, Bricktober. So much so, in fact, that recently I determined that I was going to pack myself into the car and drive down to Perth in 2021 for the sole purpose of doing just that.
Then a double dose of positive karma struck: Firstly, Luscious approved the plan, and second, my good pal (and head honcho of Bricktober) Stephen Kendall gently coughed in my Facebook feed and mentioned that a) due to Covid-19 restrictions, Bricktober was taking place in a fully online environment this year, and b) if I pulled my finger out and built something inside of a week, I could display something this year as well as next.Continue reading “BRICKTOBER 2020 AND THANKS FOR 2000”
Two movies viewed in two days, and both linked by a common attribute: the playing about with, subverting, and otherwise playfully bruising of, time.
Honestly, it was almost impossible to find quotes and images that could be swapped for comic effect. Instead, the fun has to come from seeing such perfectly complementary swaps come from two movies that couldn’t be much further apart on the dramatic, ambition, and noteworthiness scales.
It’s the beginning of the term three school holidays. Lego reviews will follow. In the meantime, however, a short interlude:
I’ve been a lover of Bricktober since its inception, and one of the hardest things about moving to Karratha has been my inability to exhibit there.
In the wake of Blake’s one-year anniversary, though, I decided it was time I focused my life forward– no more wallowing on what the past has cost me (well, some wallowing — nobody gets over losing their son that quickly — but targeted wallowing. Specific wallowing.) while my own inaction costs me everything else. It’s time to face forward, and work on what I would achieve if I had thirty years in front of me and the only thing holding me back was me. Which is, kind of, actually the case.
One of those things was Bricktober. If it couldn’t come to me, then I was going to work out how to go back to it. Which meant planning to build something and take it to Perth. October 2021 is a year away. I could do that.
At which point my pal Stephen, who heads the organisation that runs Bricktober, popped up to tell me that, because of Covid, the whole thing was online this year, and if I could get something built in time — even something as small as a 20×20 stud diorama — I could have it included.
Oh, and it would have to be completed in a week.
Turns out, that was just the motivation I needed. So here’s a sneak peek at the first MOC I’ve completed in a ridiculously long time, and the first salvo of regaining my creativity. Bricktober will feature hi-res images, with some video and assorted goodies, but for now, here’s a quick squizz at The Hunting Lodge.
It’s been one year.
A year ago today I was standing in the middle of an oval in Dampier with members of the writing group to which I belonged at the time, preparing to read The Alphabet Book of Murderers to a crowd we were hoping would arrive any moment. And then I got the call.
Luscious. Three words.
Blake. He’s gone.
And I was already running for the car.
One year since he took his own life. One year since he left us with nothing but grief and questions, and no belief that either of them will ever be put to rest. One year since our world fell down around us. Since then we’ve lost all momentum, all desire to pursue our own lives, our own ambitions. I don’t write. I don’t build. I don’t exercise. Luscious is all that and more. We’re waiting for something that will never arrive, and we don’t have the energy to get up and find it.
I don’t have any more words. Just that. It’s not fair. It’s never going to be fair. It’s never going to be right. And it’s never not going to hurt.
None of this is fair.
Sometimes you’ve just got to say “Fuck it”, and introduce your teenage son to an absolute classic.
Time for more shenanigans in time, space, and the dance floor. The best new character Marvel has introduced in years, a bad fit for one of the oldest, and some early-career Dorkin wonderfulness are ours to discuss, along with the best Volume Two of the year, and more bitching about Batgirl. It’s all good, clean fun.
Few sets have been as anticipated by the AFOL community as 4000010 The Lego House, released to celebrate the opening of Lego’s multi-gajillion Danedollaroos
Bond Villain Hideout Corporate Penis Substitute new HQ in 2017. Could it possibly live up to the hype?
Could it fuck.
Last night, Luscious and I had the opportunity to lie back in bed and watch a couple of movies without catering for Lord 15. We took a double trip back to simpler times, with Chevy Chase’s least mediocre effort Fletch, and the always-superb adaptation of one of my favourite authors’ best works, LA Confidential.
It’s Mixed Movie Quote manna from… well, somewhere in Los Angeles, I suppose.
Time for another graphic novel mini-review roundup, because apparently I don’t what’s good for me. In this edition, I prove I don’t know what’s good for me by making my umptybillionth attempt to find something good in Deadpool (spoiler: failed again), revisit a favourite character, and touch base with one of the most pointless characters in comics. Plus Spiderman.
You’ve been advised.
Gee, it feels like it’s been a while since I’ve posted a Lego review.
Okay, let’s get back on this damn wagon, especially as the reviewing may have stopped but the purchasing hasn’t, meaning I’ve now bought way more sets than I’ve reviews since I set out to cover the 250 I had (at the point I started. How many do I have now? SHUT UP, YOU’RE NOT MY REAL MUM!)
An easy one to begin: Star Wars, and a little fighter plane from that benighted franchise.
I bought them all at once. I read them all at once. Let’s review them all at once. Twenty graphic novels purchased while I was in Perth during the last school holidays.
Karratha to Perth: 1600 kilometres.
Date of son and daughter-in-law’s wedding: slap bang in the middle of the school holidays.
Length of time we’ve had shiny new SUV: two weeks.
Of course we drove.
The plan was relatively simple: we’d bundle ourselves into the car, blast through the 11-hour drive from K-Town to Geraldton in a day, stay overnight, then hit Perth on day two. Coming back, we’d take things slower: stop at Geraldton again, stop at Carnarvon on day two, get home on day three. Take the time to see a tourist trap or two on the way. We’d have Lord 15’s best mate in the car with us, so turn the trip into a bit of a sightseeing experience rather than a race. And with the extra space we’d have, and the lack of a luggage limit, get some big-arse shopping in in the meantime.
And so we did.
Along the way, though, it turned into an important rite-of-old-man-passage. Because I learned some things, and those things are going to herald some changes. Continue reading “LESSONS FROM A ROAD TRIP”
Every now and again I throw a challenge to a nearby personage to hit me up with five graphic novels from my collection they’d like me to review. This time it’s Lord 15’s buddy Zac who happened to be in the wrong room at the wrong time. Let’s see what I thought of the ones he picked out while I was shouting at him to hurry up.
It’s the last week of a long semester. I’m running on fumes, my students are running on fumes, the whole world seems like it’s running on fumes. So you know what? Screw it. Let’s power down, put a couple of movies on, and recharge our batteries. Ain’t nothing we can do in this week we can’t do in the first week of term three.
One of my Year Ten classes is watching Red, but I’ve done that one. The other is watching Mission Impossible: Holy Shit, I Can’t Believe This Pile of Crap Is Supposed To Be The Good One. And my Year Nines are watching Shazam.
So, as per my usual rules, here we are: A Mixed Movie Quote Cage Match. Shazam v Fallout.
I’ll be grown-up later.
It’s been quite a little while since I managed to sit down and read some graphic novels. But the term is winding down: two out of my three classes have, to all intents and purposes, finished their work with a week to go — so there’s suddenly a little extra time in my week, and I’ve taken full advantage of it. So get ready: there are reviews galore to come.
Let’s get started with some easy takes, involving some of the core characters of both Marvel and DC.
It’s been a long time since I’ve managed to sit in front of the blog. Hopefully that will change in coming days, when we’re facing a teaching semester without COVID, cyclones, and all the other things that have turned the first half of this year into a rolling ball of liquid shite.
In the meantime, I was overcome by the medical necessity to see The Emperor’s New Groove again tonight. By the Gods, it’s still an absolutely wonderful, brilliant movie — I’d argue with anyone that it rivals Aladdin as the best thing Disney has ever done. And the Mixed Movie Quote proved so very easy…
It was a double feature movie night at the Batthaim last night, and as is my wont, when we double up, we swap the mixed movie quotes between the two. So: Christopher Nolan’s drifting-into-being-forgotten stone-cold masterpiece Memento, and the always unforgettable The Rocky Horror Picture Show, combined…