More Memeage, to Cut the Silence

LJ Interests meme results

1. canadian film:
   You can't really get away from it, when you're me. By the way, one of the few useful things I've done on the book outline is to choose a title, taken from a quote by Piers Handling (Mr TIFF) which one of my students pointed me towards: The Invisible Cinema: A Short but Opinionated History of Canadian Film. So we'll see where that takes us next, I guess.
2. douglas clegg:
   Always worth your time and/or effort. He has a way with images that's both poetic and ruthless, often as sensual as they are disgusting--and since I aspire to do the same, I tend to fixate on people like this. Probably the best of the current crop of "new" horror writers, which is humerous, considering how long he's been around for. Also, he TOTALLY knows how to use the 'Net.
3. george r.r. martin:
   November, November, November...
4. icelandic sagas:
   Deadpan yet four-color, with Tarantino-esque moments of gore and predestination. My liking for them probably stems from some sort of racial memory; then again, maybe I just find it funny when people say things like: "Don't bother to look, it is just as you think...the leg is off" to each other.
5. john-david nau:
   L'Ollonois was perhaps the bloodiest of the Buccaneers operating out around places like the Turks and Caicos, and Peter Benchley took full advantage of his rep when putting together his shamefully-neglected pirate-colony-survives-into-20th-century opus, The Island. I found it up in Muskoka, and I've been re-reading it ever since.
6. m.r. james:
   His ghost stories mainly revolve around ordinary objects becoming suddenly and horrifically alien--bedclothes, wells, closets, cathedral stalls, etc. The first and best of his read-between-the-lines kind.
7. music:
   Like the song says, everywhere I've ever gone, there's been "someone singin' my life back to me." And I frankly wouldn't have it any other way.
8. peter gabriel:
   ...as with this guy, for example: Peter Gabriel left Genesis and became the most formative voice in my 1980s teenagerhood. I still remember fighting with my Mom over the relative merit and meaning of "Shock the Monkey", the first song I'd heard that was more like a poem set to music (although the music was part of it, just another set of assonances to riff off of). And now his voice is thinning and his hair is gone, while the insights he lets me steal into his personal struggle with mortality merely serve to remind me that my own will come soon enough. Good for every occasion, from big pimpin' ("Steam") to New Orleans sinking ("Here Comes the Flood"). I couldn't imagine the soundtrack of my life without him.
9. villainy:
   Well, it is always a bad-ass who makes a girl's heart beat faster.
10. the pixies:
    Big SoCal pseudo-surfer fuzz, all speed and movement, a wave of mutilation crashing over you, uplifting even as it excoriates. I don't listen to them enough anymore, not directly, but they ring in my skull almost constantly...like blood, or feedback. Or both.

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