I seriously want as many people to watch this video as possible - the more useless stereotypes and preconceptions dead, the better (although may the humorously benign ones live forever! I can't take a world where an Arabian prince can't be in possession of a real life tiger and one ideally named Rajah).
Love this guy and genuinely love what he's trying to do with his work - it's a hell of a balance being able to remain genuine, truly hilarious and culturally sensitive without completely ignoring cultural differences and ultimately being able to highlight the humour in all of it.
... yes, both sets of quotation marks are necessary when you're talking about me essentially chasing tail lights in Rhode Island on a slow exposure in a moving car.
Nevertheless, it did make the drive back to Jersey from Newport that bit more enjoyable and some of these turned out a lot more fun than I expected so hey, why not post those bastards and pretty this place up a little? I re-stumbled upon them looking through the pics I took on my last trip to the US back in 2010 and found myself momentarily wondering, I was on what, now? Of course, I secretly think I've delved into the untapped genius that is my photographic capabilities and am sure that anyone who sees this will demand I immediately contribute to a gallery exhibition on the sheer merit of all the pretty squiggles because, come on, look at those things.
This is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.
Having now watched the short film, it seems the most natural of combinations, but prior to viewing, I would have never in my life imagined seeing something that was so quintessentially Disney while simultaneously bearing Dali so brilliantly in its essence. The surrealism of Fantasia delivered no form of preparation for such a visual and symbolically emotional onslaught.
Honestly, I really do hope to put something up that isn't quite so heavy some time soon because I'm not loving the general wave of tone I've been posting in the last month or so. That being said, the current state in which the world is simmering, boiling, burning, however you want to put it, does lend itself to moments of unavoidable painful reflection and self-reflection so it simply is what it is.
In that spirit, current events, particularly in the US and Europe this last month, have only shown that despite the flurry of events, so many core realities don't change. In trying to find answers to the horrors of the world, people respond in a myriad of ways, some as hopeful and as positive as can be mustered under the circumstances, some innocently misguided and others resorting to outright hatred, anger and vitriol.
It is that last point my original post looked to address. Anger, fear and hatred are actually genuinely natural responses to horror. But at the end of the day, if we've voluntarily chosen to remain blind to any further human consideration for other individuals, we have to take responsibility for that and any damage it may cause which, let's be honest, it often will.
I don't condone the notion of never questioning the beliefs, backgrounds and histories that lead to acts of violence, in fact that can only be a huge step in hopefully addressing the roots of so many problems. However attacking genuinely innocent people is simply unjustifiable. We can argue till we're blue in the face about systemic ignorance leading to extremism going unchecked (has that peacefully practising Islamic family passively condoned acts of terror simply by being Muslim? I personally absolutely do not think so, but the scores who disagree will) but ultimately, those who acted and those who encouraged and trained them to do so are entirely responsible. Any retaliation aimed elsewhere is just wanton and pointless vengeance.
Though ideally, I identify as a pacifist, I do believe in fighting for what's right and fighting for what you believe in which is why I can often admire even those who fight vociferously for things with which I absolutely do not agree. However I definitely believe in fighting against those who decide to attack who we are and what we believe in.
What I will never believe in is attacking innocent people.
Over the last week, the two videos below have been all over my Facebook, Twitter and news feeds. Both tackle the question of Islam and Islamophobia and the impact generalisation has on how people view Islam. I finally got to watch them today and, well, let's be honest, I love watching spirited debate and both delivered, just in very different ways.
'Criticize the person doing it, not the [country]'
It is odd to find myself potentially siding with Bill Maher because in general, I've never liked the man. I'm not a fan of his smug, sarcastic brand of commentary and his 'documentary', Religulous, while certainly entertaining, could hardly have been called objective and the fact that it is now treated as a factual representation of all (not some, all) religious folk by some still makes my blood boil.
However, at the beginning of the video, particularly in comparison to Ben Affleck heatedly spluttering his disgust for their views, it was difficult not to see Maher and Harris' calm reiteration of the statistics as more reasonable. It wasn't until further on in the video I was able to see what Affleck was trying to say underneath his irritation and that, I believe, is the same point that Reza Aslan was far more eloquently able to make in the next video.
'To say that 'Muslim countries' as though Pakistan and Turkey are the same, as though Indonesia and Saudi Arabia are the same... is stupid.'
His point was so very clear and yet Camerota insisted on using the term, 'Muslim countries' as though Aslan hadn't already pointed out that the term was invalid about 5 times. Within the first few minutes, he succinctly points out that the examples that Maher was using to criticise Islam are in fact not representative so much of the religion as they are of the countries in which they are practised. I understand the point that Maher and Lemon and Camerota were trying to make about the statistics of mainstream Muslim belief and their own belief that this is indicative of a faith that ultimately promotes violence at its core and not just in its extremes, however it still doesn't change the fact that they cannot use that to justify a broad judgement of all or even most of who identify as Muslim - and yet they continue to do so.
People say statistics don't lie. I don't imagine they do, but they certainly don't always tell the whole truth. If anything, the picture they end up painting more closely resembles an incomplete puzzle than a crisp and clear photo of reality.
People and statistics are two separate entities and one thing I've grown to hate is one being mistaken for the other. They are indicative of either what has happened or what people think but they don't determine everything. I don't care if say, for example, a lower socio-economic area in society has a statistically higher rate of crime, unemployment or teen pregnancy or any other category of marginalisation for that matter. If you live in that area, until you as an individual finally act in a way that makes you fall into one of those categories, those statistics do not represent you as a person and are therefore in no way a determinant of your future. They do not define you until you let them.
It is based on this point that I agree with Ben Affleck more than I did his counterparts (until Sam Harris acknowledged that they were speaking of ideas as opposed to people). His point was that judgement should always fall on those who are perpetrating disaster. Not the faith they claim to represent, not the race or country from which they came, but the perpetrators, the terrorists themselves. The end. To focus the blame elsewhere based on statistics is misguided and dangerous because then the victim count extends beyond those directly affected by terrorism or genocide to even more innocent people who had absolutely nothing to do with any of it.
I'm certainly not saying that we shouldn't condemn dangerous ideas. Ideas are what drive these attacks and to pretend they don't serve a vital role is naive. But that still provides no excuse to unfairly judge and demonise innocent people who haven't adopted those more violent ideas. The beheadings in Iraq do not make it ok for the beatings and harrassment of innocent Muslims in Australia to have occurred as they did after the police crackdown this last month. That they did is abhorrent and a tragic manifestation of blind and uninformed hate. No number of bombings, attacks, beheadings or kidnappings will ever justify retaliating against the innocent and I say this as someone who has lost a family member to a terrorist attack.
As Aslan said, those individuals, those societies or those governments that actively oppress and abuse people should be condemned but to breed fear and misunderstanding based on blanket generalisations leads to discord beyond borders because therein lies a very dangerous idea - that we have the right to judge people based, not on their own actions, but on the terrible actions of someone else.
There is little else to do but continue.
Let the music play on
The words write themselves
And the smiles shine on.
Fear is a friend, not an enemy
It reminds us of what we have
What we could have
Who we could be
It only becomes a foe if we let it
If we allow it to consume us
To blind us to what's true and good
And keep us from doing all we can
Being who we can be
Even then, it isn't the fear that acts
Or doesn't act.
It is us. We make the choice. We are the cause.
We.
******
As most who know me would be very well aware, fear is the consistent underlying aspect of my character. There's no lie in my ease or in my laughter or moments of joy, there simply exists an acknowledgement that either hovering alongside or not far beneath is that little stratosphere of anxiety and doubt that has been formed over three decades of often hyper-sensitivity, over-awareness and an unrelentingly vivid and dramatic imagination.
Saying that, I still think the world is just as scary as it's always been, simply with more coverage. What I can't control, I can't, but because I'm often mired by the fear I so feverishly ramble on about above, it's too often easy to just allow the burial to take place and sink into dead mode. Not a difficult thing to do when I picture the people I love potentially being slain as they innocently go to Mass in the morning as they do every day and when I think of family members already lost having simply gone to do their job to provide for their family and, through no choice of their own, never come back. Fear throws aside realistic probability of risk or the fact that others have lived their entire lives this way and allows the notions to grow beyond proportion making me even 'happier' to sink into nerve bending oblivion.
The above is just a brief reminder that it is no excuse. I've always been of the opinion that my life is no one else's fault but mine and so I continue to think that way, fear notwithstanding. Atop that, is the broader reality that, so far as I'm concerned, my world is also no one else's fault but mine. I acknowledge the impact of other's choices but my responsive actions will always be mine and mine alone and for that I will always hope to take ownership of everything I choose and do and, following that, everything I inflict upon the world.
Now, to put some of that fear-taking into action, I post. Regardless of its triviality, putting anything up on this takes a chunk out of me and truth be told, I know of it garnering little impact, whether it be negative or positive. It is simply here and it is simply me. For the purposes of what I do on this thing, that is enough. I understand those who question that but truly, I assure you, the purpose is vital... in the absolute purest sense of the word.
Anyway, here's to ensuring that the sense of helplessness doesn't lead to actual uselessness in the face of all the crazy in the world.
Or... we could just go full Homer, a clearly viable option.
Well, a year out of the original hope, I finally head back to North America this September and get to knock off the western leg of that trip that will likely never be but hey, who cares, because *Honest Trailer voice* this is still awesome!
In less than a year, I'll have been able to make the rounds and finally meet all my titas, titos and pinsan after decades as the sole member of my family who hadn't yet met everyone - or anyone really, till last December. So, so pleased and excited to get to celebrate my cousin's wedding in Reno and spend time with my Tita in SD before gallivanting northwards and even getting to make the dip into Canada for the first time!
It's strange to be so brashly titling this post considering the lifelong fear I've held on the subject. You could say I was a dramatically fearful kid and when I was about 7 or 8, I came across AJP Taylor's The Second World War - An Illustrated History in my brother's room and after that, my fear of kidnappers and cyclones swiftly turned into a fear of armies, soldiers and dictators.
I won't pretend I read the book in its entirety because I certainly never did however as the word 'Illustrated' would suggest, there were a great many pictures in it and many of those were intensely traumatising to a young kid. Sure, the rather comic pictures of propaganda from during WWII were almost a form of cartoonish relief, but I ultimately got the gist of just how horribly the world suffered between 1936 and 1945 and that new information was terrifying.
Not to mention well timed. In 1990, I was 7 going on 8, and much as I tried to avoid the news, I wasn't ever able to escape the reports of what was happening in Iraq and Kuwait and joining the growing mini-encyclopedia of horrors I was slowly constructing inside my head (thanks to Mr Taylor) were reports from the news, the newspapers and our monthly Reader's Digest, of the atrocities being committed by Saddam Hussein and his army. A measure of how deeply internalised this information became is a dream I can still vividly recall in which an Iraqi ship had somehow made it's way all the way to (the dream version) of Sydney Harbour followed by my dad and myself being taken prisoner and being lead onto the ship. Thankfully I woke up before anything drastic happened but I continued to live each day battling fear about a war that was happening on the other side of the world.
Then of course 1992 came around and the war in Yugoslavia broke out, the subject of which is the reason this post has come into existence. By '92, my consumption of new articles and stories of various wars had unfortunately increased and again my very sensitive young mind was not so well equipped to handle the footage of bombings and people huddling from snipers in Sarajevo. I cried a lot that year about the people in Yugoslavia and, being a kid, really only understood that Serbs = bad. My Year 3 teacher at the time happened to be Slovenian and her attempts to explain the conflict, whether she meant them to or not, only confirmed for me that the Serbians were the bad guys.
I remember reading about the 'Romeo and Juliet of Sarajevo' (again, likely thanks to Reader's Digest) and wondering why, why, why would the sniper have taken the shot. Did he not know that the boy, Bosko, was a Serb? Did he not understand that if Bosko could love their 'enemy', maybe there was no reason to kill them? I know now that it was never determined that a Serb killed the two but I wasn't to know that back then and all of it just felt senseless. Later in high school, I would end up reading Zlata's Diary not too far followed by The Diary of Anne Frank, and hating the level of innocence that had to suffer at the hands of powers who simply did not care.
As I write this, I'm suddenly reminded that the reports of this kind obviously never ended, but, as this article I found from 1994 states, they simply changed places. Mixed up in amongst the stories and reports from Iraq and Yugoslavia, were the reports from Rwanda and learning that Hutus and Tutsis existed. It was just ongoing and alongside the more fun things that Buzzfeed likes to remind us of about the early '90s, these are things that I also associate with that time.
Yesterday and today, I ended up Wiki-ing the siege at Sarajevo, realising that I still didn't really have a complete idea of what happened at the time. Even before I'd ever set foot in Europe, something that still sets off a ping in my mind is when people have referred to or spoken of Serbia and Bosnia as 'amazing holiday destinations' because my immediate association is a war which somehow still feels recent. Bearing that in mind, I decided to look it up and here I am, slowly recalling bits and pieces that I'd read at the time and filling in more of the gaps.
I associate all of the conflicts mentioned above with the pre-9/11 world - a world which as of late, I'd begun to see with the rosiest of coloured glasses. 9/11, the wars that followed in Afghanistan and Iraq, the terrorist attacks in Madrid, London, Mumbai, the civil war in Syria and the rise of Islamic State not to mention the increasing frequency and spread of attacks, these things have inevitably led to thoughts of just how far flung the world is. Of course, it's not hard to feel that way in the face of the current state of the world and our increasing ability to see it all happen as it happens.
But then I read again about events like Sarajevo and quickly remember, alongside the aforementioned concurrent conflicts, things like the constant reports from the Middle East, Rodney King and the LA riots, the earlier bombings in NYC and the World Trade Centre, the shootings in Port Arthur and Dunblane and of course later, in Columbine and remember just how often I thought the world was 'dying' back then, too. These days, the nature of news and social media only means we hear about more incidents more quickly so it makes sense that the world could be just as bad as it was back then, only we're reading and hearing more about it now.
And that notion could be further supported by the fact that, despite wherever we are now, the world is probably at a point where most 'civilised' countries aren't all at open war with one another. Unlike the centuries prior. With the recent Brexit and discussion around the efficacy and the purpose of the EU, it still amazes me that a set of such closely packed countries that have easily spent the last two millennia at war have lived in relative peace since the end of WWII. Barring, of course, the former Yugoslavia and the recent Russian annexation of Crimea and infiltration of Ukraine.
I now wonder how naive a notion that is in itself. The Middle East continues to rage on, Afghanistan is still tattered by violence, the South China Sea only continues to simmer, Venezuela is in the process of civil collapse, Boko Haram continues to tear Nigeria apart, extreme racist groups are growing in popularity, just to name a few things... we don't all have to be bombing one another to be destroying one another.
But honestly, the conclusion I end up drawing, if you can even call it that, is similar to that of the article I linked earlier. This is the world's curse. I grew up with the above, my parents' generation were doing nuclear attack drills in their classrooms, my grandparents' generation endured the world wars as did their parents, and so on.
So I'm going to out and out disagree with anyone saying the world is more screwed now than it's ever been (multifaceted topic, I know, but in terms of global and territorial conflict, I'm going with it and from the looks of things, Google agrees with me, reliable bastion of knowledge that it is). It's just behaving as it always has. People will always want power, territory, identity... and there will always exist those who decide to kill to get them, the sad truth remaining that innocent people will be the most numerous casualties. It's difficult to end on a positive note after such a conclusion and particularly considering this all remains a very real personal fear, except to acknowledge and genuinely appreciate the fortune and privilege in which I get to live when so many needlessly suffer purely due to an accident of birth.
In the meantime, to lighten this just a touch, something I read on Cracked a couple years ago - 18 Undeniable Facts That Prove the World Is Getting Better. Sure, it's a little US-centric, however entries 17, 12, 7, 2 and 1 do garner cause for hope.
... brief from sheer fatigue after reading, thinking, reacting and having to finally pull away from the never ending campaigning and opinion jockeying alongside the wish to still put in a cent.
Voting may seem like a time when our voices are quietest, like a drop in the ocean of already minuscule hope for change.
But as I was reminded by a wise friend not that long ago as we were discussing the emergence of candidates like Trump and Duterte, at the end of the day, as a whole, we end up with the elected officials/parties we deserve.
[ETA: so I completely forgot about Paris je T'aime which I reviewed earlier this year. Goes to show how long ago even February felt!]
So clearly books get quite the bit of attention from me here and it's literally been years since I properly recommended or reviewed a movie, which is crazy because just as I love allowing myself and my imagination to disappear into the worlds the written word conjures up, I also love the total sensory and emotional surrender you get when you go to the cinema.
Seriously, considering my love of story is great enough to allow me to be enamored by random internet urban legends (see: Slender Man) and games backstories (see: pretty much any backdrop and history for any video game, even those I don't play which, let's be honest, is pretty much most of them), one of my favourite things in the world is getting to sit in that darkened movie theatre and just enjoy incredible stories, amazing performances, the most beautifully composed scores, awesome cinematography and, where it fits, well crafted special effects.
So far this year, I've only seen a few movies at the cinema (oh, Schmoes and other movie hoes, how I envy the sheer number of movies you get to see) but I've enjoyed each and every one. Funnily enough, as I tried to remember what else I'd seen this 2016 it also occurred to me that I went with the absolute perfect people to see each film which only made them more enjoyable.
Eddie The Eagle
What a fun movie! As a fan of Taron Egerton and Hugh Jackman (more so after following the Eddie press junkets - what a ridiculously charming pair), I was really looking forward to this movie and I love that it introduced me to a person I'd never heard of before. In '88, I was in kindergarten and I don't recall even caring about the Olympics, let alone the Winter Olympics (and I certainly didn't watch the news, my childhood self shudders at the notion). Jackman has made numerous comments about how well-loved Michael 'Eddie' Edwards was in Australia at the time, but that all flew right over my head so learning about him and his dogged persistence and dedication was really enjoyable and this movie paid him lovely tribute. He even thinks so himself which is a credit to both actors and to Dexter Fletcher who manned the helm on this. Yeah that's right, Spike from Press Gang directed this movie, a fact which only added to my 80s nostalgia watching it.
'You don't have to win to be a winner' is a line Hugh Jackman's credited to a friend who saw the movie and repeatedly mentioned in interviews when drawing out the heart of the movie. Spot on. Eddie Edwards was a dreamer who really fought for his chance to compete in the Olympics and then took on the challenge and all its subsequent challenges with seriousness and dedication. For him, it wasn't about being the best, something he may never be (and ultimately many of us will never be). It was about doing the thing he loved and really giving it the best go he could possibly give.
Yes, this movie definitely had its sports movie cliche moments - the comedic fumbles, the uplifting speeches, the fun training montage - however as many reviewers before myself have said, Eddie the Eagle embraced its light-hearted ambitions to simply entertain you with a great sportsy story. I loved the fact that Fletcher enlisted actual artists from the 80s to bring to life a wonderfully 80s synth-embued score and I loved that he was so intent on taking us on the ski jumps with his crazy shots from atop the different heights, making seeing it in the cinema so much more worthwhile. And of course, the relationship between Eddie and Bronson was made all the more fun thanks to Egerton and Jackman's clear delight in each other's work and company. Seeing this with Ma and my sisters was a great cherry topper because it was definitely a great family flick that was both entertaining and inspiring.
Do I rate? Should I rate? If I could, I'd probably give it a good 4 1/2 out of 5 stars because it was what it was, it loved what it was and I loved it for that.
Captain America: Civil War
I went with the guys to see this and holy crap, I loved this movie. Sure, it helps that I love pretty much everyone in it (Evans, Mackie, Stan, Renner, Downey Jr., Cheadle, Rudd, Bruhl..!) but hell, even the trailer above was awesome. The set up without the pay off would have been severely disappointing, but thankfully it wasn't. At all. The Russo brothers nailed this movie. Though I'm definitely still curious about just how successful they were in making it Honest Trailer-Proof, I'd say they've likely done a great job.
The question of responsibility for all the innocent lives lost in every battle is an important one thus the notion of a force being put in place to reign in the Avengers makes absolute sense but at the same time, Steve's doubts as to the integrity of such a force are also completely understandable and these conflicts help to blur the lines between a clear good and bad side in the story. They all have reasons and they all have a point and in the end, they just have to fight for what they think is right and you can't not feel for everyone involved. Every single character in this movie made me give a damn about who they were and what they were trying to do and I was drawn in from beginning to end. Tony's guilt, Steve's love for his friend and everyone around him, Bucky's battle with himself, alongside everyone else's fear, anger and loss pulled this movie far above its (genuinely fantastic) action. Seriously, brilliantly written and excellently acted.
I'll rein in more gush as I could go on a lot longer but to run through moments of brilliance - the recruitment of the teams (bless you. Paul Rudd, my gosh, your addition to this franchise just makes me happy... and Peter Parker!), Bruhl (yes, a second mention - I love this guy), the airport sequence and of course, the revelation about Tony's parents which killed me to watch. I've been a fan of RDJ since the 80s so my faith in his acting is fairly solid and this scene punched me square in the gut.
This one was a happy 5/5 for me. I understand the questions a lot of people have regarding the plot and the motives, particularly Zemo, but it all worked for me so I was thoroughly entertained.
X-Men: Apocalypse
As a fan of the old X-Men cartoon, I remember being pretty excited to watch the movies when they first came out. To my friends, I am well known as a non-fan of a lot of the casting, particularly Anna Paquin as Rogue and I was even more critical of the omission of Gambit and I remain so to this day. Then when X-Men: First Class came out, I was overjoyed by the direction the movies ended up taking and X-Men: Days of Future Past did a great job of unpicking the ruin that was X3. Coming in to this third installment, I was definitely looking forward to it and I decided to take my friend, another big X-Men fan, out for her birthday to see it - which we both did just last night.
Straight off the bat, the movie has some definite flaws. The pacing often dragged and somehow the cheese felt a bit more pronounced to me, not to take away from the moments of genuine dramatic weight (Fassbender, what an actor), but at times the dialogue definitely had my face scrunching. I was also surprisingly not too impressed by Jennifer Lawrence in this. I wouldn't go so far to say that she was bad this time around, but her acting felt oddly stilted at times and particularly compared to the last two movies.
That said, the comedic moments were enjoyable and overall, I didn't walk away let down. There are some really great sequences and the opening was impressively done. While a particularly frustrating plot point comes in the form of Moira's part in Apocalypse's resurrection, it's easy to let go. I loved the introductions of the future X-Men and Quiksilver being back in the picture was outright fun and made for an awesome scene. It's admittedly weird seeing him as two different actors in two different movies and I have to say, I take Evan Peters' go over Aaron Johnson's though I'm curious what heftier comic fans think of it. And of course, Apocalypse's defeat came in the form of an event that I straight up loved as an X-Men fan.
I'd say about a 3/5 because despite the flaws, my friend and I still enjoyed it and as a fan of the old cartoons, it served up enough to delight.
At this point, Ant-Man is just about to finish as I type - a movie I finally caught on Netflix and am so glad I got to see just before seeing Civil War because it wasn't just entertaining as hell, it also made Ant-Man's part in the movie so much more enjoyable for me. Oh, and go Anna Akana! Loved her bit at the end. Yep, loved this movie. Marvel does some excellent comedy and Paul Rudd plays some excellent Scott Lang.
Another rec that comes to mind that I didn't necessarily see in the cinema would have to be Straight Outta Compton (O'Shea Jackson et al killed this movie and the beat drop at the Detroit concert is now one of my favourite movie moments ever). I'm sure there was a fair amount of gloss over but the story remained compelling and of course, there was the music.
In terms of upcoming movies, there are a good few I definitely want to check out. Independence Day: Resurgence is something I do not intend to miss. The original may have been a 90s movie to the core, but that part of me is definitely up for whatever stories remain of that world. I'm a little uncertain about Suicide Squad at this point, but if the opportunity arises, I would happily check it out. I'm still yet to see quite a lot of this year's Oscarbait - Room, The Big Short and Spotlight are all high on my list and on the more family-friendly end of things, I'm definitely geared to see Finding Dory and the live action Beauty and the Beast (such excellent casting!).
I'll put together a more comprehensive review set to adorn my sadly neglected little blogger but for now, this micro-update and Studio collage, complete with dorky touristy stickers, will do.
Such a brilliant few days thanks to 14 sessions, 28 panellists/speakers (alongside some excellent facilitators) and 1 incredibly talented performer who somehow created a seamless solo hour of Austen oftentimes without the apparent need for oxygen. I look to you, Miss Vaughan's Miss Bates. Do you not breathe?
Got in a good mix of the journalistic, the political, the philosophical and the literary this year, happy crumbs of the untaken arts undergrad and the masters that will never see completion. Particular favourites? The Danger of Ideas, The Risky Business of Breaking News and Murder in the Making were all outstanding panel discussions with amazing moderators and Emma Sky, Emily Maguire (saw her in 2 panels) and Rebecca Vaughan all particularly blew me away in sessions that, funnily enough, fantastically bookended my time at the festival. Nothing to do with primacy or recency however, they three are simply that impressive.
Anyhow, cheers to SWF for one of my favourite times of year and onward till SWF2017 a.k.a. my next run on Gleebooks. In other news, I now officially live amongst piles of paperbacks threatening to topple and bury me alive at any moment. #theymaytumble #imaydie #sweetphonicdeath #iregretnothing #canyoutellthiscamefrominsta? #myswf2016
Holy crap, do I love a live game and we couldn't have picked a better one to haul ourselves to, regardless of the fact that we were in total enemy territory - Pirtek Stadium in Parramatta.
Yep, that's right, my sister and I were surrounded by a sea of blue and yellow (oh, sorry, 'gold' as the announcer kept saying - sure, mate!) and even in our own circle of attendance we were outnumbered, our little Penrith pair alongside a trio of Parra boys.
Meanwhile, what a killer game. Starting is always a little slow as the guys warm up to things and honestly, considering how rusty the Panthers side is this year after a year of crippling injuries to key players, I wasn't gunning for a crazy start (not to mention, I was aware that I still needed a voice the next day, you know, for important things like work and karaoke. Screaming straight through for 80 minutes would never help there). Then again, it didn't take long for a couple of 'No Try' moments to each team to get everyone's blood starting to simmer and the current state of my voice is evident of the resultant boil.
What followed was some pretty even play covering both ends of the field and then some rather confusing ref calls. Saying that, I reckon that the sum of all bad ref calls tends to even out between sides, if not in a game then in a season, so I don't tend to dwell too hard unless it's really worth it. There were no real moments of sheer outrage this time around (though maybe I'd feel differently if we had lost) and come half time, the game was tied 6-6.
The second half was a roller coaster - Panthers got in first points but the lead diminished fairly quickly after some sloppy moments and a tackle that I was hoping against hope was a strip. Soon enough, the Eels had torn the lead away from them and time was thinning out and taking my voice and my sanity along with it. With only 5 minutes to go in the game, Eels were up 18-12, Mansour was able to sneak out the side and score a try, bringing us up to 18-16. When Soward missed the conversion, I could have cried. Instead a plaintive wail of 'nooooooo..!' had to suffice.
Soon enough the buzzer was about to signal the end of the 80th minute and by that stage, my sister and I were on our feet, jumping up and down and emitting incoherent yelps toward the field. When the Panthers got another set of 6, I think I yelled 'Don't waste it! Don't waste it!' about 10 times before the ball moved deftly to our side of the field and next thing we knew, Soward had hauled the ball at Cartwright who then scored a try a bare 10-15 metres from where we stood going completely insane.
'Good game. Good game. Good game.'
My sister and the place of Triumph - the winning try was scored right in that corner and right in front of our faces.
Though I definitely felt bad for the guys we went with, all rabid Eels fans, that my sister and I got to see this game live was simply fantastic. It was a great game all round, no write offs, no decidedly outrageous calls, no stupid fights, just footy played between two sides who put on a good show from beginning to end.
And honestly, little can beat the atmosphere of a live stadium - sure, it's a little harder to follow the action without the aid of handy camera angles but the big screen does its job and really there's nothing better than the power of a crowd roaring as one, the joy of finding fellow supporters among a sea of enemies (the two Panthers fans behind us were a riot), the little kids in their jerseys, with their flags, running around and just enjoying themselves and trying to get a handshake from Sparky, the Eels mascot, as he trails the barriers (or from the giant bottle of Fountain Tomato Sauce, poor thing was walking blind), and of course the usual taunts and cusses from the crowd - I love it all.
Followed up (as we did) with a trip to Maccas and Harry's and you've got yourself a great Sunday night.
Another month down, 8 more books happily swallowed whole. Amazingly enough, the lineup I'll be attending at the festival this year is a lot more political and journalistic this time around, somewhat dotted with some literary odds and ends though it's hardly a complaint.
I'm writing this with The Outsiders playing in the background, something I've been compelled to rewatch since I finished the book. It would have killed me to have written something like that by the time I was 17. When I was that age, I was still scrounging through ideas for a fourth chapter for my socially-unlikely-friendship-cum-romance 'novel'. S.E. Hinton meanwhile was making striking social commentary and allowing people a real glimpse into youth and struggle at the time - no mean feat. Quite a bit of the book's insight gets a little lost in the movie, but it does a nice job of bringing the story to life.
I read that Hinton herself attests to the faithfulness of the movie and enjoyed the experience. Having just read the book, it's true. Sure, the acting and the direction are a tad odd at times (I say this fully aware that I am speaking of the great Francis Ford Coppola, I don't pretend to be an aficionado!) and the musical integration can get a little comical, but you can't deny that watching it from the future is a real trip - Swayze, Cruise, Dillon, Lowe, Estevez, Howell and the freaking Karate Kid as a bunch of ne'er do well Greasers is just so much damn fun.
And they're all so... pretty. Though that does match the book to some extent, particularly for the Curtis boys - Rob Lowe sure is one 'movie star handsome' Sodapop and Swayze's got the coldly good looking older Darry down pat.
Thanks to all the Schmoes Know videos I've been watching as of late, I find myself tempted to rate it... a temptation I shall now fight in order to get on with critiquing the books below:
Upon reading the introduction for this story, I was quite surprised to find that it was written entirely as a form of propaganda and I was even more taken aback to discover just how successful it was in this goal. During the war, the story was widely and illicitly distributed by resistance forces within Nazi-occupied countries. Another fact of interest was the representation of the unspecified enemy as real human beings, something not particularly common back in those days. I'm accustomed to the notion of poster war propaganda which represented Germans as crazies and Japan as a growing octopus with tentacles attempting to engulf the world so I found it quite appealing to hear that the enemy were to be portrayed as men with families, thoughts, fears and normal desires.
Reading the story itself was very interesting and I'll state it is the most interesting piece of propaganda I've ever encountered. Oh, it is certainly that - though human, the misguided overconfidence and therefore the stark vulnerability of the invaders is still contrasted by the slow simmering of emotion among the townspeople who then begin to take matters into their own hands. And of course, the ultimate sacrifice is made by their leader who leaves behind the resounding message that the resistance shall indeed live on. Saying that, as a story, it is still very captivating and Steinbeck really knows how to get into the guts of simmering societal anguish (c.f. The Grapes of Wrath, a high recommendation). Of course, being so short (which it would have to be to be effective propaganda), you're got getting fleshed out characters here. We cover the basics of just who is who and then events take over.
I'll confess I find the story's background, its dissemination and its overall effect far more interesting than the story itself, but I definitely still recommend it. It still has Steinbeck's narrative air, if not the poetic grace he was so capable of had he decided to create a more in depth piece of literature.
This was one hell of a read! Think of the most outrageous storyteller you know and just how often you find yourself thinking, 'Dude, you are so full of shit..!', while remaining hooked to every word. That is this book. The stunts and schemes that Frank Abagnale pulled off as a kid are frankly (heh) astounding! The man is the definition of balls of steel. Ok, so fair enough, the recklessness of youth could possibly attest for some of that insanity but this guy took it to every level possible. Clearly he was a whip smart kid and he would get an idea and then ride it through to the end with craft and cunning, but when it gets to the points where you forget this guy was 16, 17... hell, even 21, and that it all happened (at least one way or another), that is where things get incredible.
Abagnale recounts this all with a fairly straightforward wit that sits well with all the scams and tales. He often acknowledges the fact that he didn't always know what he was doing and this is fun to read considering how well calculated his ideas were, even in the trial and error moments. Not only was the sheer audacity of those years of his life immensely entertaining, but I'm sure I wasn't the only reader who found themselves pondering what it would be like to have that kind of feckless confidence. Skill and brains are one thing, but he had guts. Not everyone has those. Seriously, Balls Of Steel. BOS(S).
A very, very happy re-read of an all-time favourite story. I have genuinely read this about 10 times, maybe more, and I know I will continue to read it again and again. Yep, 20 year old me, you did good chasing up a copy of the Body and thus thrusting us into our now 13 year long love of King. Thanks to the movie, most people know what the story is about and quite well too considering how faithful the movie was (Red's hair and other minor dramatic details aside though as Stephen King himself said, 'Books and films are like apples and oranges', and some things work better in each medium), however King's storytelling really does shine in novella form. As a man prone to a good digression, he only has so much room to do that in Shawshank and admittedly in this particular story, those digressions all absolutely belong. They set the scene for the world in which the characters live, they paint us living pictures of those characters and their lives and motivations and ultimately, this book was where my interest in prison and institutional psychology and culture was really born. I was fresh off of learning about recidivism in Psych and Law and to see the idea so well captured in this great story only drew me in further. It's a whole world in there and though King may have only captured some of those facets, he tells an incredible story of hope doing so and invites us to give a shit about a world we so often ignore and at worst, wish didn't exist.
Gaiman! You imaginative weirdo genius, you! I love the bizarre worlds you create through which my mind then gets to travel, desperately grabbing onto objects and moments here and there just so I can keep up and not get lost. A brilliant ride through London Below and seeing how well Richard Mayhew will survive the literally upside down turning about of his life. This is honestly the most entertained I've ever been by a mythical quest story and that is saying a lot considering I don't usually find them that appealing and I'm not a big fantasy fiction consumer. I loved the ambiguity surrounding the various characters and Messrs Croup and Vandemar are now officially two of my favourite cutthroats - hilarious psychos who truly revel in death. Gaiman's writing just lets my brain start tugging at images it would have otherwise never needed schemas for and I love that. The inside of his mind must be so, so interesting and so complex and I am so grateful that he has been so kind as to let us get such glimpse in there through his books and tales.
So I decided to just put all of the Cabots in one considering they are all pretty much the same book with a few adjustments in character and name and narrative format. Also, it took me all of one evening to down all three, a certainly entertaining evening. Man, I remember reading Boy Meets Girl for the first time back in 2004 and thinking it was just the cleverest thing ever - a story (and a love story no less) written entirely in letters, work memos, emails, journal entries and notes taken on whatever paper could possibly be available. It certainly made consumption of the hilariously thin romance much more fun and honestly, that all applies to each and every one of the above stories. The formulas are the same - girl meets boy under circumstances which make her either hate or doubt said boy, despite a clear attraction immediately sparking between them, and then said pair then encounter hilarious perils to their better understanding one another in the form of dopey miscommunication, presumption and evil exes/parents/employers/etc. They're certainly fun stories to read in the right mood and I was clearly in that mood thanks to a workmate who had also recently decided to give Cabot a re-read. To be fair, out of all the chick lit I've read, these are among the best and the least insufferable.
I loved this book. As I mentioned above, Hinton was 17 when she wrote this and I could only wish my 17 year old self had the coherence to construct such a poignant narrative as the one she shares with us via Ponyboy Curtis. Class struggle and adolescence are pretty much your perfect mix for melodrama but I personally didn't find the book melodramatic at all - Hinton wrote like the teen that she was and she was very self-aware in her story. Much like any (non-douchey) teen would, Ponyboy would share a moment of clarity and then immediately follow it up with an acknowledgement of the fact that it's just an idea, a brain fart, what does he know? His journey from artsy Greaser to a kid who realises that the world isn't as simple as he once thought was one I enjoyed getting to share because despite all the shit he's seen and everything his family and friends have been through, he's still so innocent and the still untouched youth inside of him shines right through. He's endearing without being a wimp, he's artistic without being a douchebag and in his brief self-destructive phase, you're too busy feeling for him to mind his being a total asshat. I really cared about this kid and his brothers and I really cared about what was going to happen, despite the fact that I already knew having seen the movie before. Hell of a job on your first novel, Hinton. Super Tuff.
Next on the list and as yet unstarted:
I am looking forward to this. I've only read one other Woolf - Mrs Dalloway - and it is a favourite so I look forward to seeing what else Woolf is capable of.
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And now onwards! I present the obligatory book related GIF or pic below:
The whole notion of fighting fire with fire loses all integrity when it comes to bigotry and this article addresses the issue of actual bigotry - the intolerance of difference in opinion, whatever those opinions may be and not based on one notion of moral superiority.
(Although a difficult notion to postulate without sounding like a soapboxer. Hurrah the joys of hypocrisy!)
Amazingly enough, the last couple of years have seen me drive through the most books I've read in a very long time... and I love it! As I tweeted the other day, I've begun my literary year with Salinger and Hemingway (and Shelley) and I could not have hoped for better companions to accompany me into a new year of story dwelling. Steinback, I'm sure, will only prove to be a worthy and beautiful follow up from that.
It would be funny to list my particular recommendations from this pile, considering the answer would be almost all of them... however some definite call outs would have to include the following:
Stasiland - Anna Funder's incredible delving into the Stasi and the world of East Germany before the fall of the Berlin Wall is a genuinely eye opening read that only further solidified that which I've learnt from both my trips to Europe and the Philippines - that I am a ridiculously fortunate human being, living on the back of freedoms fought for by generations I will never be able to thank.
Circle of Friends - I've read this so many times and, soapy though it may seem, Maeve Binchy's writing forever feels like home in the midst of a still foreign, but beautiful Irish wit.
The Truth and Other Lies - Sascha Arango's entertainingly truth-twisting tale of a man and his moral dilemma.
Franny and Zooey, Nine Stories, and Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour an introduction - for the sheer beauty and brilliance that is Salinger.
Reasons To Stay Alive - Matt Haig's wonderfully honest insights built from a life battling depression.
and last, but hardly least, A Moveable Feast - where Hemingway recounts simple yet so vibrantly written encounters of living in Paris as a young writer amongst other writers of his generation.
All these books have made the journey through the latter part of 2015 to these early 2016 months immensely more pleasurable alongside the awesomeness of the life continuing to roll along outside of them.
Recently acquired (in addition to the already huge piles I've yet to conquer!):
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So here's to the the upcoming journeys to still uncharted worlds, the as yet unmet characters and their lives and histories - I look forward to encountering you all!
