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From the department of So What’s Been Happening?, this missive:
The last three days have been yet another long weekend/civic holiday, which means that I’ve mainly been dealing with Mom for the last two and Steve and Cal for the last three. I also managed to do something weird to my shoulder the day before yesterday, the non-dominant one, which has made doing anything beyond watching stuff, taking occasional notes and reading books sort of difficult. (Did input some notes and do about 500 words on "Chess and Oona Go To Hell" today, but then had to break off, because Steve needed me to email some photos of Cal to his Dad.)
Good part: I was able to work out each day, BodyFlow or yoga, so that helped; I also got some books (the best buys were three remaindered collections for basically $21.00--Poe’s Children [ed. Peter Straub], Warriors [ed. George R.R. Martin] and Phantoms [ed. Paul Tremblay]) and some DVDs (a reconstructed director’s cut of Black Sunday aka Mask of the Devil with Tim Lucas commentary, a copy of Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon for $6.00, and a Hammer double-disk set of Christopher Lee vehicles Rasputin and The Devil Rides Out), all of which have their good aspects and are well worth talking about. Not here/now, though.)
I also bought Nekrocrafte by Hexentanz, this demented album I first heard about some years back in Rue Morgue, which was recently re-issued by Agonia Records. Its back copy states: “Hexentanz, literally "the witches dance," is a collaborative conception between members of The Soil Bleeds Black and Psychonaut 75, venturing to recognize the traditional Witches’ Sabbat as a reality in the flesh. The music and expression of Hexentanz encompasses the practice of medieval black magic. Composed with actual period instruments, synthetic ritual devices [tell me more, tell me more], human bones, and authentic arcane chants of medieval and modern witch cult practice, Hexentanz is a project standing alone in its exploration of archaic music and magic. The art of Hexentanz is conceived within the living tradition of left hand path practice and maintains sincerity with its elucidation of the medieval Witches Sabbat.” So, you know...that’s fun.;)
Bad part: But man, it’s just sweaty and gross in the apartment right now--humid in that “I’d take a bath, but ten minutes after I got out I’d feel like I had to take a bath again”-type way, with a side-order of constant clicking, yelling and bouncing vs. Steve parked on the couch, watching an endless marathon of Wipeout episodes. Sometimes Cal’s been weirdly responsive and/or proactive, like when he suddenly called out: "Daddy, Daddy," to get Steve's attention on the street; sometimes he's come up with truly odd stuff, like when I realized he was bouncing on the bed, eating bacon and yelling, intermittently: "He's hiding...he's hiding...where is he? Oh, THERE he is! It's...the bacon of Callum! There you go!" Other times--other times, I just want to be anywhere except where he is. Probably not so good, on a sliding scale of Crappy Mommy-dom.
Aaaand...I think I owe everybody some genuine fun stuff, like talking about Bava in general, or that Prince of Foxes post I was promising last time. Or, hell, even refuting the general impression I'm getting from peeps 'round the Internet that Alphas, the new SyFy show, is bad and should feel bad--it isn't, started out well and has only been getting better, and this week actually managed to pull itself out of the pit of Magical Autism Person-cliche to perpetrate a turn-around I absolutely loved. Plus, it seems to be employing every great Canadian actor ever in guest and supporting roles, which can never be completely discounted. I like it so much better than that shit sandwich Haven, I can't even tell you.
But no. Gotta go take library books back, return DVDs, drop off garbage and recycling, pick up Cal. Steve's going to MIssissauga tonight, so joy joy joy. Oh well.
The last three days have been yet another long weekend/civic holiday, which means that I’ve mainly been dealing with Mom for the last two and Steve and Cal for the last three. I also managed to do something weird to my shoulder the day before yesterday, the non-dominant one, which has made doing anything beyond watching stuff, taking occasional notes and reading books sort of difficult. (Did input some notes and do about 500 words on "Chess and Oona Go To Hell" today, but then had to break off, because Steve needed me to email some photos of Cal to his Dad.)
Good part: I was able to work out each day, BodyFlow or yoga, so that helped; I also got some books (the best buys were three remaindered collections for basically $21.00--Poe’s Children [ed. Peter Straub], Warriors [ed. George R.R. Martin] and Phantoms [ed. Paul Tremblay]) and some DVDs (a reconstructed director’s cut of Black Sunday aka Mask of the Devil with Tim Lucas commentary, a copy of Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon for $6.00, and a Hammer double-disk set of Christopher Lee vehicles Rasputin and The Devil Rides Out), all of which have their good aspects and are well worth talking about. Not here/now, though.)
I also bought Nekrocrafte by Hexentanz, this demented album I first heard about some years back in Rue Morgue, which was recently re-issued by Agonia Records. Its back copy states: “Hexentanz, literally "the witches dance," is a collaborative conception between members of The Soil Bleeds Black and Psychonaut 75, venturing to recognize the traditional Witches’ Sabbat as a reality in the flesh. The music and expression of Hexentanz encompasses the practice of medieval black magic. Composed with actual period instruments, synthetic ritual devices [tell me more, tell me more], human bones, and authentic arcane chants of medieval and modern witch cult practice, Hexentanz is a project standing alone in its exploration of archaic music and magic. The art of Hexentanz is conceived within the living tradition of left hand path practice and maintains sincerity with its elucidation of the medieval Witches Sabbat.” So, you know...that’s fun.;)
Bad part: But man, it’s just sweaty and gross in the apartment right now--humid in that “I’d take a bath, but ten minutes after I got out I’d feel like I had to take a bath again”-type way, with a side-order of constant clicking, yelling and bouncing vs. Steve parked on the couch, watching an endless marathon of Wipeout episodes. Sometimes Cal’s been weirdly responsive and/or proactive, like when he suddenly called out: "Daddy, Daddy," to get Steve's attention on the street; sometimes he's come up with truly odd stuff, like when I realized he was bouncing on the bed, eating bacon and yelling, intermittently: "He's hiding...he's hiding...where is he? Oh, THERE he is! It's...the bacon of Callum! There you go!" Other times--other times, I just want to be anywhere except where he is. Probably not so good, on a sliding scale of Crappy Mommy-dom.
Aaaand...I think I owe everybody some genuine fun stuff, like talking about Bava in general, or that Prince of Foxes post I was promising last time. Or, hell, even refuting the general impression I'm getting from peeps 'round the Internet that Alphas, the new SyFy show, is bad and should feel bad--it isn't, started out well and has only been getting better, and this week actually managed to pull itself out of the pit of Magical Autism Person-cliche to perpetrate a turn-around I absolutely loved. Plus, it seems to be employing every great Canadian actor ever in guest and supporting roles, which can never be completely discounted. I like it so much better than that shit sandwich Haven, I can't even tell you.
But no. Gotta go take library books back, return DVDs, drop off garbage and recycling, pick up Cal. Steve's going to MIssissauga tonight, so joy joy joy. Oh well.
