Never leave your rubber on the road

Like, why would I, like, care about, like, that?

One of the strange new modern quirks in communication comes courtesy of the cell phone. Something that always gives me a chuckle is the sight of two folks walking side by side down the street and one of them is having a conversation on their cell phone. It raises the question: how boring is that person they're with? Are they friends? If so why aren't they talking to each other?

I was asked, last year, by a student doing a project on the impact of new communication tools upon the process of education. The upshot of his questions to me was, "what was it like before you had cell phones and IM?" e.g. "How did you survive not being in constant touch with your moron friends?"

After a brief chin stroke I had to confess I never really felt out of touch. After all, I did have a telephone. I knew my friends' telephone numbers. Frequently I would actually go to where they lived and saw them in person... often carrying on full, open air conversations using verbs, nouns and modifiers. Moreover, we were often in the same places at the same time, drinking similar beverages. Is that out of touch? Then thank goodness for being out of touch.

I read an interview in UNCUT magazine with Nicky Wire of the Manic Street Preachers yesterday. One of his points about the vacuity of current youth culture brings up the point that kids have no skill at being bored any more. He rhapsodizes about "sitting on a wall for six hours" doing nothing except being bored. It makes sense. After a while the boredom festers and you're driven to action... to accomplish... to do something structured and big and sometimes fucking lunatic. These days low grade stimulus (cell phones, IM, iPod, PS2, XBox, YouTube, etc.) provides a constant buzz of low grade radiation that elevates its users a step up from boredom: catatonia. Admittedly this catatonia looks very social, everyone talking to everyone all the time about whatever stimulus they were radiated with that day. William Burroughs said "language is a virus." Maybe then communication can cause a new kind of cancer.

As I write this two young women are sitting about 10-15 feet behind me. One is carrying on a IM conversation with someone somewhere else while the other one is carrying on a one-sided conversation; directed at the first, but really to no one in particular; as she swivels in her chair, smells the inside of her shoes and monologues about her exploits on various wrestling team excursions. A quick glance over my shoulder and my imagination of what that must look like will make eating and sleeping difficult for some time to come.

I can only imagine what the IM conversation must be about, but if it's anything like the real world one...

"When I, like, got here, he was, like, messaging me to come over and, like, see him and stuff. But when I, like, got there, he was gone."

The Posey Question

First a gag:From Dork #11 by Evan Dorkin.

Then on to the post:

When it turned out that I wouldn't be going up to visit my folks until Sunday (instead of Saturday) last weekend I decided to use my now-clearer Friday evening to visit the uptown Mall district of Fredericton. My main objective was to purchase a new stock of receipt books for the store... but while I was up there I decided to peruse the many other goods and services offered. I bought a bottle of cheap Italian wine, for instance.

The other object/appliance I thought of purchasing was an mp3 player. There have been periods where I was so obsessed with having a portable music player (walkman, discman, whatever) that I can recall once not leaving the house because I'd neglected to recharge batteries. No music... no walking. Recently it's been less and less important to me... not to mention some concerns about what hearing loss I might already have inflicted upon myself. The one instance where it still seems vital is during prolonged travel by bus. Not having something that shields you from direct contact with the fellow transit patrons is as dangerous as practing unprotected sex in Central Africa.

I went to Future Shop and looked at the iPods and the iPod knock offs. The winsome little Shuffles were on sale for $75... but then I thought: if I were to get one of these buggers for my Sunday departure I'd be faced with the hassle of bringing CDs up to the lab, ripping them, loading the player, charging it, etc. Instead I perused the portable CD player section. Pickings were slim, with models ranging from $19.99 bottom feeders to, remarkably, high end ones that ran for around $150. The brilliant flash I had a while ago revolved around the fact that the $75 512 MB Shuffle was a diaphonous and sexy little electronic doodad... but... BUT... doesn't a blank CD-R hold 700 MB of info? Therefore if you were of a mind to fill one of those with mp3s it would contain more music than your Shuffle would hold. AND couldn't you prepare a few dozen of these based on your unstable mood shifts, therby never being locked into whatever you planned on one measly little 512 MB plastic bookmark??

So I looked a little harder at the CD players that played mp3 discs. The one that caught my eye was the Panasonic SL-SX480:
It had the added bonus of looking like a digital clam, and the headphones were white so I could hide it in my jacket and the casual passerby might mistake it for an iPod... so I could maintain my futuristic cred, yo. The Future Shop price was $49.99. I looked at it long and hard. I looked at it harder. I picked up its little clamshell casing and lifted it and lowered it along a vertical axis several times. Then I put it back.

Then I went over to Zellers and bought the same one for $39.99. Yay!!! I like shopping at Zellers. Somehow it feels like I'm buying something from a slightly retarded street vendor... like I'm doing something good for my community.

I decided also to stop at Rogers to flip through their discount DVDs. Occasionally you can turn up something good... and in fact I did. I had been just talking to James Kerr during our trip to Montreal how I never seem to see After Hours for sale anywhere (I believe this derived from the original topic of Rosanna Arquette). But here now in the 3/$24 pile was a honest to goodness copy of the underrated Martin Scorcese comedy (that's right... Martin Scorcese comedy!!!) I also bought a copy of Wolf Creek, which I hadn't seen but did enjoy, though Roger Ebert says this of the Australian film:

I had a hard time watching "Wolf Creek." It is a film with one clear purpose: To establish the commercial credentials of its director by showing his skill at depicting the brutal tracking, torture and mutilation of screaming young women. When the killer severs the spine of one of his victims and calls her "a head on a stick," I wanted to walk out of the theater and keep on walking.

Roger Ebert can be a bit of a pussy sometimes.

The last piece of the tryptich-de-DVD was Blade:Trinity. Now, yes... I should know better. I saw the movie in the theatre. I know it's crap. Really I do. But I like the other two movies so much... and... and... what good is a trilogy if you don't hve the third part. I mean, some of you out there bought Godfather III, right? Right?


One of the things about the movie that contributed to it's badness, but simultaneously somehow made it more fun was the trio of vampire villains who worked the evil machinations against Blade... y'know by resurrecting Dracula... I mean, what would you do to defeat him? The trio was played by... ahem... from left to right... Triple H, Parker Posey and Callum Keith Rennie. Having these three together in one movie, let alone one onscreen frame, is akin to Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom featuring a segment on Koalas stalking Penguins in Nebraska. A WWE wrestler, the guy who played Billy Talent in Hard Core Logo and... well... Parker Posey. WTF?

By far the most fun is watching Parker, who seems to be acting in a different movie altogether... something closer to an all-female Three Stooges retrospective.

Made me start thinking about her work in general... I mean how's this for a schizophrenic list of credits... the ones I've bolded are movies I've seen and think are great... the ones in italics... well, you decide. The last one (or first one, actually) on the list is a new Hal Hartley film... a sequel to Henry Fool... I can't wait to see it.

Fay Grim (2006)
For Your Consideration (2006)
Superman Returns (2006)
The OH in Ohio (2006)
Adam & Steve (2005)
Blade Trinity (2004)
Laws of Attraction (2004)
The Event (2003)
A Mighty Wind (2003)
Personal Velocity (2002)
The Sweetest Thing (2002)
The Anniversary Party (2001)
Josie and the Pussycats (2001)
Best in Show (2000)
Scream 3 (2000)
Dinner at Fred's (1999)
The Venice Project (1999)
The Misadventures of Margaret (1998)
What Rats Won't Do (1998)
You've Got Mail (1998)
Clockwatchers (1997)
Drunks (1997)
Henry Fool (1997)
The House of Yes (1997)
SubUrbia (1997)
Basquiat (1996)
The Daytrippers (1996)
Waiting for Guffman (1996)
The Doom Generation (1995)
Flirt (1995)
Frisk (1995)
Kicking & Screaming (1995)
Party Girl (1995)
Amateur (1994)
Dead Connection (1994)
Mixed Nuts (1994)
Sleep with Me (1994)
Coneheads (1993)
Dazed and Confused (1993)
Joey Breaker (1993)

So... overall... Parker Posey? Should we keep her? Is dating Ryan Adams the last straw? Is being in that commercial with Jimmy Fallon?

I say we keep her.

Dave's girlfriend knows what Yo La Tengo means.

So I saw YO LA TENGO, right?

Here are the point form details (edited down from an e-mail sent to someone who will also read this and wonder why I wasted her time making her read both... sorry, m.)

Friday September 30

5:30 pm: Road gets hit. Travellers: Driver: James Kerr. Shotgun: James MacGregor. (we are proud to feature a Jamesian front line) Center-seaters: Mike Nason and Muhammad AD Rock. Back row (bad kids): Marc Bragdon, Eric Hill. Bad kids have a half-pint of Crown Royal.

8:00 pm: We stop at gas station in Grand Falls to food up. My footlong oversauced Meatball sub turns into a two pound bag of marinara. Marc B. compares it to a full diaper. I shove it under the seat.

11:00 pm: Another gas station after Quebec City. I buy two Heineken tall boys to celebrate... whatever. Turns out my bladder doesn't need the work. The first half hour in Montreal is a tense one.

1:30 am (ish... or 12:30 am Quebec time...) We drop off Marc B. and start the chain of MapQuest fueled destination searches. We immediately get turned around, heading the wrong way on Decarie and I have to wind over to a parked Police Car and chat up an attractive Police Lady to get re-oriented. She didn't seemed taken with my obvious charms, perhaps it was my beer breath or the bullet proof jacket around her heart. The directions start to take effect, after Mo deciphers that the distances between turns are on the wrong lines. Thee drop offs continue. Finally the Jameses and I end up at James' M's buddy Dave's place. We scarf some Pabst Blue Ribbon and lay our heads down for a few hours.

Saturday September 31st

9:30 am: Is that the phone? I don't live here, so it's not for me. There's that phone again... still don't live here. Again. (Dave and James M. are staying across the street at Dave's girlfriend's apartment). Is that the doorbell? I don't live here. It's probably a Jehovah's Witness anyway. Is that Mike Nason talking on his cell phone below the window on the street? I better put some pants on and see. Yes it's Mike... he's talking to Cristal, Dave's girlfriend, on his cellphone. I wave. Cristal waves. He goes to Cristal. Who can blame him.

11:00 am: Breakfast at John's. From the Grill means two eggs, toast, homefries and every type of breakfast meat you could imagine, incl. Cretons!! So greasy. So good.

2:00 pm: Science of Sleep at Forum AMC. Quirky fun... maybe not as good as Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind... I'll think on it. Charlotte Gainsbourg has that unkempt Parisian hotness nailed, plus her mom's (Jane Birkin) British accent... double whammy.

7:00 pm: Dinner at Abiata... Ethiopian restaurant. There are 13 of us. Jameses, Dave, Cristal, Jess (her roommate), Mike w/ Steve and Scott, Mo with Sean (i think, right?), and James M's sister Margo who happens to be in MTL. coincidentally, and here boyfriend. The food is served atop soft bread on platters: spiced meats of all types, grains, lentils, vegetables... all eaten with bread and hands and nothing else. My taste buds thanked me.

9:00 pm: The National (venue) Why? and Yo La Tengo. Reminds you how good indie rock can get when professional and unpretentious balance out. We run into Mireille about 78 seconds after getting there. World? Not big. Afterwards there are beers and cabs and kitties and sleep.

Sunday October 1:

10:00 am. Wake up, shower. No one around yet. Weren't we supposed to meet to go to breakfast around 10:00?? 10:15 am Mike and Steve show up. 10:30 James shows up, tells us that Mo can't make it 'til 11am. 10:35 Mireille calls asks for directions, she is 15 minutes away. Dave, Cristal and Jess show up. 10:45 am Mo calls and won't be joining us, we'll pick him up after breakfast. We wait for Mireille. 11:30 am... no Mireille, we follow our stomachs to Greene's on Greene. We have huge breakfasts, made even more impressive by one half of the group splitting an enormous smoked meat poutine.

1:30 pm. We pick up Mo, find our way out of MTL.

5:00 pm. Stop for gas, somewhere. Pick up 12 Labatt's 50 for Howard, James M. buys two quarts of near lethally alcoholized beer, stores them in the hatch of the van, and we're off.

7:00 pm. Stop in Edmunston for food... they've taken the Subway around the corner to beat it up. Mo. opens the hatch to get something from his bag... James' quarts attack him, he defends himself, he wins, James loses. Mo buys James a sub. And we're off.

10:30 pm. Fredericton. I watch Basquiat. I go to sleep.

Monday October 2

7:30 am I get up and start to gather documentation for grants... and the cycle continues.