Sass Passed

Man! Let me tell you something.

Last night’s show was the first one we actually organised by ourselves, and it was worth it. Well! Instead of getting thrown on a bill with a bunch of random acts we didn’t like, we got to play with bands we liked on personal and professional levels. That’s a total of two levels! Big ones.

For anyone who might be interested, the work of the other bands can be found at https://soundcloud.com/georgegeorgelis and https://www.facebook.com/wewereheads. It’s good stuff.

Anyway, this is definitely going to happen again. Soon. We’ll be restricted to acoustic sets in June while our bassist is out of town, but when she returns at the start of the following month, we’ll jump back in full electric glory, and all of you shall be invited. This is the plan.

Update on 2014-05-19 03:05 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

When was that the plan?

That was always the plan!

Interior Mirror

On argent peak, an arbor sways

And cloaks the mountain with its verd.

It hides its home from daylight's rays.

Behind its boughs, no sound is heard.

A private sky neath leafy dome

Lurks always on the edge of night,

And stars like secrets freely roam

Mid lofty branch in gracious flight.

The trunk in silent glory stands

As colours run along its height

In vivid shades and vaguer strands

That play upon a plane of white.

Upon the bole are symbols borne

That ward the glade from sun's purview.

Beneath the bark, dim marks adorn

A surface of a darker hue.

A tale of other lands they show

In shapes not carved by mortal will.

They move about with silent skill

And tell of all the world below.

May the Force of Free Comics Be With You

To my chagrin, this is apparently not a sequel to Chesterton's "The Man Who Was Thursday".

At some point in the rapidly fleeing winter, I happened to have a conversation with a worker from Paradise Comics, my first and favourite comic book store. The fact that it’s not local for me anymore is the only salient problem with the fact that I now live in my favourite part of town.

This discussion involved “Secret Six”, which could easily be the best comic that DC ever published for me. By “for me”, I don’t just mean that it was a great work in my opinion. That slightly obtuse bit of phrasing should also draw attention to one of the comic’s gifts, one that seems endemic to great works. It’s that ability to make a reader feel as though the work were specifically created with him in mind. Obviously, it’s completely subjective, which is part of what makes it special.

I love “Star Wars” too. All the movies. Some of the shows. Bits of the other stuff. I could take or leave the holiday, but I hope that all of you have a happy one regardless. Topical! Anyway. Beside the point. Lots of people love “Star Wars”, and many of those people feel a deep personal connection with it. I know that I do. Despite the fact that my tastes currently tend to favour comics over “Star Wars” to some extent, I actually invested myself in “Star Wars” novels before I ever entered the world of comic books. That chronology seems mildly odd in retrospect. But I had a love for “Star Wars” long before the original trilogy made its return to cinemas in the late Nineties, which was excellent because it meant that that revival meant something to me before I even went in.

I believe that the first “Star Wars” novel I picked up was Timothy Zahn’s “The Last Command”. I think that I was at an airport. It was the final entry of a trilogy, and I only learned fairly recently that it bore the brunt of responsibility for blowing up the expanded universe of “Star Wars” into what it is today. Or would that be yesterday? Who knows what Disney's really doing with all of that? Whatever. It'll be fine. There were some good times, but I won't think of it like losing a Thrawn. I'll think about it like gaining Chewbacca! His death never felt terribly real to me anyway, and now it probably isn't! All of this might also be beside the point. But that’s how this goes.

Anyway, my affection for that franchise is clear, and it’s something that’s experienced in one way or another by millions of other people, but I’d imagine that that extra sensation that “Secret Six” incited in me is relatively rare even among the most fervent fans of Lucas’s saga. It’s a rare thing in all cases. It’s not tied to the level of devotion. It’s purely qualitative and often random. “Star Wars” certainly contains great works, but I bring it up here specifically because its perfectly benign inability to bring up that particular emotion in me is completely irrelevant to its presence in my life, which is certainly bigger than that of “Secret Six”.

Incidentally, I didn’t set out to speak so profusely on “Star Wars” when I began this post about Free Comic Book Day, but I’m glad for the presence of this digression on a post that happens to fall on the fourth of May. The whole thing works out!

I brought up the discussion about “Secret Six” because it resolved with my declaration of an attempt to locate my complete paperback collection of the series and deliver it to the comic shop worker. Later, I realised that I’d probably thrown the books out with most of my other comics, which she and I took in stride.

On Thursday, I had cause to enter my brother’s bedroom for the first time since the recent end of his brief visit. Apparently, he’d been digging around through old stuff, for I chanced upon a “Secret Six” paperback among the freshly strewn oddments in the room. It wasn’t in great condition, but it was the first collection of the actual series, which was technically preluded by a brief volume that was probably tossed out with everything else.

This was a fortuitous find, for it gave me the extra bit of motivation to actually make the journey up to Paradise on that Saturday for Free Comic Book Day, which has never really been the most worthwhile of prospects for me. Obviously, it’s a wonderful thing, but the books it offered never really ran away with my imagination. That’s on me, though. I just never managed to muster up true excitement for complimentary issues that seemed minor and incidental when there was such a vast amount of stuff in the store that appealed to me. My clearest childhood memory of Free Comic Book Day is of an issue that my brother picked up. It was a comic continuation of an animated adaptation of a book by DC, a company that I didn’t even care about until the arrival of the “Teen Titans” cartoon in a later year. My favourite comic on that particular day was almost definitely some “X-Men” thing that I actually had to pay for. In a somewhat amusing turn, one of the best free issues I picked up today was a comic based on the successor to that “Teen Titans” cartoon. There could be some irony in that, but there’s a healthy dose of aptness too. There was also a “Guardians of the Galaxy” comic that told the story of Flash Thompson’s arrival on the team, which serves as a somewhat belated answer to the short moment of mild confusion I experienced when I picked up the latest regular issue of that series to discover that something like the addition of a new cast member was apparently only mentioned on the recapitulation page instead of being shown anywhere.

If people are actually reading this, many of them might not know or care about these bits of minutiae into which I’m delving, but it’s Free Comic Book Day. It’s made for this stuff. I hardly think that I’d care if it weren’t, though. People never know what I’m talking about anyway.

Most of the other stuff I grabbed didn’t seem to merit much attention, but I did find an issue of “Courtney Crumrin”, which is a series I basically forgot to start a few months ago. I also bought the first issue of Gaiman’s new “Sandman”, which is another thing I meant to do months ago despite my current tendency towards digital acquisition.

One other comic I considered and forgot months ago probably isn’t related to Free Comic Book Day in any real way, but I’ll talk about it anyway because I’m on a ramble. “Saga”! Its worth is old news to many of the people who would care, but I finally turned my attention to it recently, and I adore it. When I realised that I was approaching its most recent issue, I was even faintly bothered at the idea of waiting for the next one. This was heightened by my awareness of the creative team’s penchant for taking breaks between story arcs. However, after I finished the last book today, this discomfort was assuaged in the letter column by the writer’s revelation that the hiatus that began after the issue’s release would be ending in May. This is what I get for starting late. I get to jump right back on immediately. Cheers for procrastination!

Update on 2014-05-04 18:10 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best holiday of the week that I didn't mention? The Beltane, which dutifully brought a patch of sun amidst the days of constant rain.

I Don't Have Anything Against Clowns Either

The hamburger box isn't too far away from the pizza box. You're really just thinking inside the adjacent box. In terms of boxes, it's a lateral move. That's basically what I'm saying.

“The Princess Bride” is another old film that’s been on my list for a bit of a while. I have only the vaguest memories of my childhood notions about it, but I don’t think that they were particularly favourable. I believe that one of my best friends had a particular gusto for the film, which now does something to explain his affection for that Andre the Giant shirt he used to wear. His taste for the story, however, was something I would not share, and though my reasons for this were never profoundly solid, I’m willing to place stock in the idea that the clearest among them had something to do with Wallace Shawn. I don’t have anything against the guy. He’s a fine performer. There’s just something in the way that his face so naturally resembles the visage of a clown. It’s disconcerting. I think that one of the only pieces of the movie I happened to see when I was young featured him prominently. I actually thought that he was the primary villain until I finally saw the thing on Thursday.

Right. So. Eventually, I realised that my aversion to this movie had no real basis, and I decided that I should think about getting around to seeing it. That was a while ago. At some point, I took up the assumption that this was exactly the sort of film that would occasionally get played in theatres, and I made the choice to wait for that. It certainly worked in the case of “Flash Gordon”, and I don’t think that I even planned things out for that one. During this last week, my laconic patience was rewarded by the opportunity to experience the story in its broad glory at my favourite cinema, and I jumped to it. Wallace Shawn is more acceptable to me now, and his presence in the film was not overwhelming.

Update on 2014-04-28 00:33 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best Wallace? Gromit's buddy.

It's Always Winter in Russia (And the Cold Depths of Grant Ward's Eyes)

I saw “Winter Soldier” a few days ago. I would have seen it earlier, but I had to get “Mr. Peabody and Sherman” out of the way first. Canine time traveller and his young ward? That’s my jam right there. I’d delayed on that too much already, and I was almost at the point of feeling guilty. But I finally saw it, and it was joyous. All’s forgiven? Yeah. We’re good.

Anyway, watching the Captain America movie made me think more on the nature of the organisation of S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. I’m not really one to question things like Hawkeye’s role on the Avengers. Dude’s an action star. He can pull his weight. He doesn’t have any explicit powers, but he does his thing, and he does it well. Similar things could be said about Black Widow, though her history leaves a bit of room for ambiguity about the possibility of secret Soviet enhancements to which she may have been subject.

But all of that’s fine. People like that are basically just behind Batman by a step or two in terms of narrative superpower. The only big thing that really separates them from the heroes of other action stories with slightly less tenuous ties to the real world is the fact that the nature of a comic book universe leaves them open to comparisons with people who are specifically said to have actual powers. In any case, they prove themselves. Black Widow jumps onto a supersonic alien glider without ripping her arms from her sockets. Hawkeye does his whole blind shot thing. Captain America says, “You can be my wingman anytime.” Something like that.

Notably, Hawkeye does not say, “Bullshit. You can be mine.” But there’s a very simple reason for that: you don’t say that to Captain America. All of them are still dangerous, though. That’s my point.

But then you go and watch “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” because you’re a comic book fanatic with an excess of free time, and you start to wonder. Here’s a show that focuses on a bunch of people who are also dangerous. They don’t have powers either. They don’t even have gimmicks. Do you think that any of them ever feel bothered by the fact that they didn’t make it onto the Avengers roster? Does Grant Ward ever grumble about his position in his organisation when he needs a break from grumbling about everything else?

“Freaking Hawkeye. I don’t see the appeal. Dude’s got a bow. Take away that, then what are you? Not a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, I’ll tell you that for nothing. Man, I could beat that guy up. Dude’s got, like, eight years on me. And who knows how much mileage. Have you seen his face? Guy needs to exfoliate or something. Don’t he know that perfectly smooth skin is S.H.I.E.L.D. regulation? Even Melinda manages it. Admittedly, she’s Asian, but she’s still probably old enough to be my mother or something. Well, maybe not my mother. This is network television. There’s no room for intimations of incest. Maybe, like, Fitz’s mother. Yeah. I could see myself getting it on with Fitz’s mom. But for Hawkeye not to even keep up with that piece of Christmas cake in the smoothness department is just downright disrespectful. A dereliction of duty, even! He should be given a red card, or whatever it is we do in these mysterious paramilitary organisations. Court-martial? Whatever! But definitely not given an Avengers spot! And I’m on cleanup duty? Fuck that! I mean, look at these cheeks! I’m a slice of prime cut hyperlethal action wrapped up in a baby-bottom visage! With a healthy side order of grimace. And that dilapidated old marksman gets a spot on the starting lineup? What gives?”

I don’t know. Maybe that’s why he shot that lady in the back? .

Update on 2014-04-21 00:35 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best assistant superhero to die, come back, turn evil for a while, and find redemption? In a domino mask?

Jason Todd.

Beneath the Mountain

The winds that whipped our brows abate.

The chills that cracked our will subside.

No peril stole our promised fate.

Naught stands against the force of pride.

Our revel’s full return now rings.

It brings a song to ancient ears

And stirs the souls of sleeping kings

That lie beneath the weight of years.

They wake in grace to timeless strains

That play for all their slumber missed.

They join the joyous tune’s refrains

With lips that tender triumph kissed.

They cry for aeons held in shade

And ages that were spent to yearn.

For every dream that ever strayed,

Their regal voices freely burn.

Their hymn extends through lightened halls

To boast of newly bolstered fame.

The toast is borne beyond their walls

Across the lands that they reclaim.

Beneath the barrows, bellows rise

And ride above their mountain tomb.

A godly throne of solid guise

Now stands where sombre graves did loom.

The lay at last has found its place

To rule within this hilly fain.

Below the mound, in earth’s embrace,

It sounds the dawn of awesome reign.

Give Me Magic

Wehhhhzz!

I promptly went off to see “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” and I obviously enjoyed it. It’s right behind “The Darjeeling Limited” on my list of Wes Anderson’s works, and even that is probably due in large part to the lesser presence of Owen Wilson. Honestly, if the whole movie had just been about Owen Wilson’s dealings with the Nazis in his occupied hotel, I would’ve been fine. I’d see that spinoff. Does Wes Anderson make franchises? He should. Damn it, Wes Anderson! Why won’t you run your intellectual properties into the ground like everyone else? Johnny Depp’s going to play Jack Sparrow until he dies, and we love him for it! Actually, he’ll probably steal the plot of his new computer movie and come back from death mainly to play Jack Sparrow for eternity. And to hang out with Tim Burton. Which is also great. They make a good team. Like you and Owen Wilson! Who will hopefully be returning in “Darjeeling 2: Unlimited”.

Incidentally, clapping at the end of a movie doesn't make it a play.

Update on 2014-03-30 19:23 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best movie of a play?

"A Midsummer Night's Dream". Stanley Tucci's Puck? I might not have been fully supportive when I first saw the little bald dude in the role 10 years ago, but I was an idiot in a lot of other ways then too. By contrast, I went to see the second "Percy Jackson" movie mainly to see the Tooch play Dionysus. There's a nice bit of symmetry in that somewhere.

Mars Attracts!

I just saw the “Veronica Mars” movie. I never saw the show, but the film basically turned out to be a cast reunion for “Party Down”, which is something I did watch. Also, I like the Dandy Warhols, who did the theme for the series. I just learned that shortly before I saw this. Anyway, everyone was in that movie. Seeing cinematic adaptations of shows I never watched is turning out to be quite enjoyable. This concurs with last week’s experience with Steve Coogan’s “Alan Partridge” movie. I don’t think that I’d ever even heard of that character before I saw the theatrical poster.

Incidentally, did I actually fail to notice the arrival of a new Wes Anderson comedy with all the people I love who weren’t in “Veronica Mars”? Because it’s here. It’s in Europe. In a hotel. It’s like everything I loved about “The Darjeeling Limited” with a greater focus on hotels. That’s perfect for me. I decided against seeing “Moonrise Kingdom”. The atmosphere didn’t seem right for me. A rural camp ground isn't generally my kind of setting for a fantasy. Hotels? Yes, sir. That's my jam right there. Right above trains that feel like mobile, horizontal hotels.

My family saw "Moonrise", but even they thought that it was too quiet, and they have a greater tolerance for quietude than I do. The only other review came from a friend with an abiding love of Wes Anderson’s oeuvre, and he spoke favourably of it. Still. He tried for a long time to get me into “Life Aquatic”, but it never really spoke to me in the same way. I think that my best experience with that guy came from “The Darjeeling Limited”, which I thoroughly adored, but nothing in his body of work really tells me that he’s a director I shouldn’t have a strong fondness for. Dude’s awesome. That’s what I’m saying. Wes and I also seem to share a taste for Owen Wilson’s performances. Now I just don’t know whether I should try to wait for that Anderson fan to see the movie. He’s my oldest friend, but it’s really hard to make plans around his schedule. Basically, if it’s not a Sunday, he can’t do it.

On another note, in the day since I wrote everything above this paragraph, I happened to learn that a “Party Down” movie might actually be happening, which gives me a bit of joy. I think that I’m really starting to like this trend.

Update on 2014-03-24 02:16 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Bruno versus Veronica? 

I don't know, man! These entities are lucky to exist on my periphery! I'm just going to give it to Veronica because her recency makes her more vivid in my mind.

Both have poise, though. I've got to give it up for that.

Sheer Fate

Where Has All the Sugar Gone?

Sugar Crisp! Am I right?

Perhaps I should elaborate.

I think that I should give credit to the marketing team on this one. When people talk about the power of advertising, they generally jump to Coca-Cola or something, but in those cases, the product does most of the work. Coca-Cola actually tastes good. Admittedly, getting people to drink it in the winter was a bit of a coup, but it’s still not that hard to sell in the first place. Advertising mainly just serves to reinforce its popularity.

This is not the case for Sugar Crisp. Those marketers had an implausible task, and they succeeded beyond sense.

I remember the excitement I felt when this stuff first appeared in my world. All of the elements of a joyous experience seemed to be there. First, you’ve got the name. That’s a name of pure, naked promise. Next, you’ve got the bear. The bear’s a primal, undeniably powerful symbol. It worked for Russia, it worked for the Norse, and it works for Sugar Crisp. But this is no ordinary bear. This is Sugar Bear, a bear with a calm demeanour and an easy smile. His mellow eyes have the seductive sort of heavy lids that would put Lauren Bacall to shame. If that’s not enough, he sometimes gets superpowers from his cereal.

For all the holdouts, there’s the theme song. Don’t doubt it, man. That bear can croon. If the Rat Pack ever lost Dean Martin, they could bring in Sugar Bear without skipping a beat.

All of this should combine to make something irresistible. Indeed, it would if it were employed in the service of a product that was even mediocre. For one brief, saccharine moment, I dreamt of the delight this cereal would bring. Upon receiving my first bowl of the stuff, I learned that that dream was empty, and I never looked back.

Until now.

I just don’t know how something with such a high amount of sugar could taste so bland. I can only imagine that someone took the contents of a pencil sharpener, condensed them, seasoned them with sawdust, and put the result in an exquisitely themed box. I don't know how something can taste dry when it's immersed in milk, but Sugar Crisp manages. I only know that the glory that seemed so certain in every facet of the concept that Sugar Crisp sold dissipated instantly with the first taste.

So. Sugar Crisp. Am I right?

Update on 2014-03-03 05:05 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best cover of the Sugar Crisp theme? 

In Which Jaymes Would Be Actively Prohibited From Putting the "Fun" in "Funeral"

I think that I found a new, irrevocable reason to avoid marriage. 

For me. For me to avoid marriage. Marriage is an awesome idea, but I've gradually been realising that I'd be absolutely terrible at it.

There are other reasons. Myriads. Over the past six years, they’ve been slowly building, and their sheer magnitude recently became impossible to ignore. Most of them, however, are theoretically negotiable. You know how it is. Some of them could be avoided with the right partner. Others could be erased if I were more willing to change.

But this fresh one seems too abhorrent to even permit thoughts of correction.

I’m terrible at dressing up for things. You know that I can dress up. Everyone does. But this sort of dressing up is just my alternative to dressing down, which is something that is still traumatically difficult for me. I’m not actually dressing up for anything. “Up” merely signifies the general direction of my dressing, but the exact vectors are left to me. Dressing up for occasions that aren’t specifically focused on my onstage spasms generally involves a trajectory that’s been planned without my input. Fortunately, I am rarely placed in positions that necessitate my refusal to attend such functions.

If I were to marry, I would theoretically be placed in those positions more often, but I highly doubt that any woman who’d even countenance the idea of marrying me would insist on managing my attire for an acquaintance’s holiday ball.

Have you ever wondered why people die? Listen. I’m not going to say that the gods invented death purely to create a type of gathering wherein my gauche ignorance of any semblance of sartorial subtlety would seem actively disrespectful. I’m just saying that it’s a workable theory.

Now, in my life, the only funerals that fall within the bounds of my notice are held in honour of those who’re close to me. Everyone grieves in his own way, and no one’s really going to tell me that I’m improperly dressed to mourn my loved one. I suppose that I don’t technically grieve, but if I care about someone enough to attend his funeral, it’s probably because he’s had a presence in my life that can’t be diminished by death. With that in mind, what reason do I have to grieve?

Maybe that’s why I never had a problem with “Kingdom of the Crystal Skull”. It couldn’t do anything to detract from my experience of its predecessors because that experience had already happened. Actually, that can’t be the reason at all. I just happened to enjoy that film. 

Anyway, no one presently has a reason to invite me to a stranger’s funeral. But all of that changes with a spouse. Obviously, there are the common discomforts that come with the melding of families, but I could probably avoid a lot of that. You only really see your partner’s people at holidays. Right? And those are festive events. And I’m always festive.

But that’s why funerals are terrible. You’re there purely as an adjunct to your spouse, and that’s a role that leaves very little room for personal eccentricities. That’s when I’d be out of options, wouldn’t it? That’s when I’d have to throw on a suit. A suit I don’t own. One with trousers through which the contours of my legs are not immediately visible. One that’s not shiny at all.

And I’d probably just fall asleep anyway.

And that’s why I can’t get married.

I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t like being there for people?

Update on 2014-02-24 04:41 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best funeral? The fiery kind.

Ginger Demon

This might be the most hilariously disgusting mascot I’ve ever seen. That would be true even if it weren’t representing something that is ostensibly supposed to go in your mouth. There’s probably something to be said for truth in advertising, but this is not the place. Honestly, the thing looks as though it’s moulting. He looks like Frankenstein’s monster without the poise.

That’s a nice cushion behind him, though. That cushion would be a better mascot. My vote’s for the cushion.

But I don’t really eat much ginger anyway.

Update on 2014-02-16 05:55 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Favourite mascot? Count Chocula. I've never tried his cereal, but that guy has style.

"Flash" Is a Great Name in the Majority of Situations

The name speaks less of fresh, delicious vegetables and more of well groomed rocks. 

I've been meaning to watch "Flash Gordon" for a while now. Perhaps this time could be measured in years. For some reason, I never got around to it. This seemed weird to me, but I've come to discover that my procrastination served a higher purpose. A local theatre played the majestic space opera recently, which gave me the opportunity to experience the film for the first time on the big screen. In full consideration, this was the ideal way to be introduced to it. I also invited Dave along, but it was a while before I learned that he'd agreed without having any actual concept of the movie, which can only serve as an enhancement to the whole ordeal. This willingness also says lovely things about him in my mind.

For some reason, he vaguely thought that it was a football movie. I suppose that there's the faintest grain of truth in this, but it reminded me of my introduction to James Bond on my eigth birthday. For some reason, I was brought without input to an IMAX screening of "Tomorrow Never Dies" by my parents. It instantly brought out my passion, but I remember being very reluctant on the journey to the theatre, for the only thing I knew about James Bond was a foggy notion about his affinity for special shoes. I thought that he might have been a cobbler or something. The idea that his footwear contained fantastical devices never occurred to me. I wasn't even really sure that he was fictional before that. In fairness, his name was specifically chosen because it was boring. A child could be forgiven for steering away from such things. I had the same issue with Harry Potter before the first book was foisted upon me during a day of sickness in elementary school. My tastse for euphony meant that I frequently neglected to gather information on anything with a boring title. Seriously, man. My name's Jaymes Buckman. If your appellation can't match that, I'm less inclined to pay attention.

In these days of gritty 007 movies, the modern answer to the whimsy and adventure of the character's classic era is most obviously embodied in the "Iron Man" film series, and I can't ignore the possibility that the names in those franchise to do something to make it more immediately attractive to the youths who would have looked to Her Majesty's top agent for fantasy in earlier times. Even if you take away the superhero sobriquet, you're still left with "Tony Stark", which is just brilliant. Even the supporting cast have names that soundly defeat the mysterious mongrams of the British intelligence service's employees. From whom would you take orders? M? No, man. Nick Fury! There's a name that tells you everything you need to know immediately. Actually, while we're on the subject, I can't go amiss by mentioning that "Judi Dench" is far more intriguing to the ear than "M", and that's true even without the honorific. I am, however, willing to admit that "Pepper Potts" and "Moneypenny" stand on roughly equal ground.

Anyway, despite my passing familiarity with some of the more salient names in the cast of "Flash Gordon", both of us were mildly surprised to notice the presence of Richard O'Brien from "The Rocky Horror Picture Show", a shared favourite. At the very least, that seemed appropriate.

Update on 2014-02-10 01:29 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best Flash? Bart Allen.

Medical Miracles

In the middle of the last week, I realised that there were two things that I had to do at the beginning of February. One was attending a visiting friend's concert, and the other was visiting the dentist's office. I decided to get the latter out of the way first.

I'm not fond of visiting the dentist. There isn't a lot of pain, but they always think that I'm on drugs, and it's not for the usual reasons. But I went. I dealt with it. I did it in service of enjoying my friend's show with a clear head.

Actually, I should talk about that show for a moment. The band's called Tropical Dripps, and the friend who started it was Hot Apollo's first bassist. We parted amicably when he realised that he had to be the leader of his own band, and he's been making a success of that plan since. You can check them out at tropicaldripps.bandcamp.com. You really should. 

Anyway, after I'd finished the day's business at the dentist's office, they sent me on my way with a record, which I promptly forgot to remove from my bag.

My next lapse of memory came on the following day when I left for the Dripps show at a local sushi house without my identification. This can be partially attributed to the fact that I generally don't think of the need for such things at a restaurant, but apparently some places have age limits at night. I don't know, man. I'm no restaurateur. I don't even spend much time at the places.

I get there around midnight. After a casual discussion with the doorman about the necessity of identification, I begin to leave. As I stand by the door, my fingers sift through the contents of my bag in vain hope for some form of salvation. That's when I realise that I still have the record from my dental appointment. It has no picture, but it has my birth date and a variant of my name. At this point in the night, that's enough for the doorman. 

When I got in, I discovered that I'd missed my friend's set, but I got to see the guy for the first time in ages, and I found some enjoyment in the performances of the other bands. 

In the end, I was gratified to note that my reluctant visit to the dentist, which I'd scheduled mainly to heighten my enjoyment of the weekend, was actually crucial to enacting my weekend plans at all.

Update on 2014-02-03 06:02 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best tooth? Sweet.

Cosmic Regalia

Why are astronauts always wearing full space gear in their photographs? That stuff can’t be comfortable. Right? But every astronaut in the history of NASA always has the same outfit with the same pose against the same backdrop. The last two parts make the most sense, but I can’t imagine that everyone wants to wear that orange monstrosity when circumstances don’t dictate it. Oh, I’m sure that some people enjoy the pomp and tradition. That’s fine. But there must be many who don’t want to have to deal with the whole apparatus in circumstances that don’t actually necessitate it. They wear those things for months at a time. I can’t believe that they want to take up such burdens when they’re on Earth. Two or three probably just want to wear pyjamas to the shoot. What’s wrong with that? They sacrifice all sorts of worldly comforts while they’re out and about in the frigid void. I can’t honestly fathom the imposition of an extra inconvenience for a meagre bit of publicity.

“But Jaymes!” you say. “You wander around in ridiculous outfits all the time! Surely that can be inconvenient!”

But that is my comfort, and that’s my choice. It’s not done out of solemn duty to external tradition. I only expect the same freedom for the servitors of extraterrestrial exploration.

Update on 2014-01-27 05:30 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Rocket Robin Hood versus Sherlock Holmes of the 22nd century? When all else is equal, the guy with the jetpack is going to win. Robot Watson, who may more properly be called "Robotson", could probably even things up somewhat, but that would give Robin implicit permission to call in his Merry Men. That would be a massacre.

Resistance Training

I’ve been trying. I honestly have. I think that I’ve managed to increase my tolerance to the cold by 10 degrees. At least. That’s not much. I’m well aware. What can one say? I’m a creature of heat. I can’t easily abide the frosty winds. But the season seems incapable of meeting me in the middle.

We were having some good days. I’m on the verge of love for the zero temperature. Unless I’m already cold, that kind of thing seems quite balmy in the absence of wind. After the montoh's frigid start, I forced myself to hope that things had levelled off. Wouldn’t that have been fantastic? Indeed. Indeed it would have been. But that doesn’t appear to be the case. Instead, I’m getting all of this randomness. As though it felt some incorrigible desire to reinforce the popular antipathy for Mondays, the cold has been making a point of giving its worst directly after the weekend. As I post this, things shall surely be progressing towards their weekly nadir.

But do you know the worst part?

It’s forcing me to wear a hat.

Update on 2014-01-20 02:21 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Coldest part? Fingertips. 

Keep On Rocking in the New Year

Well, Hot Apollo's fresh from our first show of the year, which was also the debut of our new drummer, Aldo Camarena. It was truly fabulous to get back out there with full love and electricity. We'll be doing more of that quite soon. 

Update on 2014-01-13 03:22 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best drummer? Totally.

Furry Little Tramps

I’ve come to notice that raccoons, the vagrants of the trees, are still rather active in this weather. They are called the vagrants of the trees, aren’t they? I’m sure that people have referred to them like that before. It’s just striking me now because their spirits at this time of year seem to be significantly higher than those of the regular kind of vagrant. This is despite the similarities in their dietary habits and living conditions.

“But Jaymes!” some might say. To that I say, “Jaymes!” I say this because I really just love hearing my own name. But some others might continue.

“But Jaymes, the raccoon revels in these temperatures due to its natural fur coating, which protects it from the elements that are so inimical to those who would walk the world upon two legs.”

Well, I often wear enough fur to cover three quarters of a raccoon at least, yet I’m frequently cold. I even throw on feathers. Admittedly, all of this is synthetic. Still, the average homeless man is quite adept in the use of layers, and it is not too uncommon to see a vagrant whose outfit exceeds the thickness of a raccoon’s integument. Perhaps I have a right to be surprised at the ineffectiveness of this strategy in raising the wearer’s comfort levels to those of the legendary raccoon. Admittedly, I gave up on warmth ages ago. I dress for aesthetics because I don’t believe that attempts to dress practically will actually do anything to affect my perception of the temperature. Surprise might not be appropriate.

Raccoons also seem to react with far greater glee to a discarded sandwich than a vagrant would. Conversely, raccoons don’t seem to receive small change with the same relish that homeless men display. On this, I think that I must take the side of the raccoons. The market value of a discarded sandwich is probably equal to the sum of several quarters.  

Update on 2014-01-06 03:25 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best rodent? Squirrel.

New Show!

Good news, dudes! Hot Apollo are taking to the stage again on the 8th of January at The Cage! The Cage is a lovely little venue at 292 College. Near Spadina!

This will be the inaugural show of our new drummer, who currently goes by the name of Aldo Camarena because he hasn’t been able to think of a good pseudonym. I like “Aldo Camarena”, though. Do you? Maybe we’ll take a poll!

Everyone should totally come. It’ll probably be the greatest Wednesday in recent memory. It’s definitely going to be one of my favourites, though that could be helped by the fact that it’s also the date of the debut of Peter David’s new “X-Factor” series.

Anyway, it’s going to be a great day for a variety of reasons, and Hot Apollo is foremost among those. Love and luck!