Halloween III, Corporate Towns, Magic Science

This is another post about something that scared the hell out of me when I was a child: "Halloween III."

I vividly remember watching this in my aunt's "rumpus room," a subterranean den with shag carpeting, a "forest scene" wall-mural, all drenched with the cloying smell of cigarette smoke. I was watching it with a group of other children and we kept on getting distracted by things, so the surreal visuals seemed even more nightmarish than they would have been if I'd been paying attention to the plot.

"Halloween III" exploits two common themes in early-80s horror: paranoid "corporate towns" dominated by a spooky factory (see also "The Stuff," which also features a similar motel scene), and the queer merging of science and mysticism: microchips with pieces of Stonehenge embedded in them. To us kids in the '80s, huge North American corporations were supposedly manipulating us with subliminal messages and doing research on us that went far beyond "The Pepsi Challenge." It didn't surprise us to find out that a crazy Irish CEO wanted to melt our heads on Halloween.

What's wonderful about this type of movie is the hackneyed combination of big budget and directorial freedom. Everybody involved seemed to have a good idea, so they just stuck all those ideas into the plot, creating a wonderfully disjointed crazy quilt of scary: witchcraft, slasher-killers who poke out your eyes and drill you to death, identical corporate robots, and creepy-crawlies that bite your dad. These films of the period have aged well, thanks to their low-key set design and their memorable secondary "quirky characters," usually played by TV actors (the Kupfer family subplot is particularly fun). The movies made at this time seem somehow grittier than the wannabe cult films made today (though I'm probably just crotchety...some people really LOVE "Saw").

You can't mention "Halloween III" without giving the music a nod...not just the memorable "Silver Shamrock" theme (which quite LITERALLY builds a nest inside your head), but the bass-heavy analog synth menace as well. These soundtracks make me feel like I'm drowning in mud. John Carpenter pioneered "the sound" but I think Howard Shore perfected it in 1983's "Videodrome" (more of that high-tech, focus-group manipulation and mutation).

Finally, I've got to say it: I love Tom Atkins. I shouldn't but I do.

Bonus Feature: "Too Gross for Muffy"

• David Cronenberg's "The Fly." I saw it once and I'll never watch it again. It's simply too much.
  
• "Sleepaway Camp." The slasher film's final frontier turned out to be unabashed torture. No thanks.
• "Dead and Buried," fetishizes pain and does too good a job of it.
  

Buying the Best (or at Least the Better)

When I first moved away from home I survived on a small income; I lived in student housing, ate where I worked, and was unaware (sometimes knee-jerk dismissive) that the items in Maslow's hierarchy of needs could differ noticeably in quality. Isn't food just food, a car just a car? Aren't all clothes essentially the same? Does spending more for something mean you're getting something BETTER, as opposed to just putting yourself in a hoity-toity category of elites?

I have more money now, and some things that people put in a cost-hierarchy -- expensive restaurants, food, wines, and cars -- are still beyond my understanding. But friend Vanilla will sometimes hand me a piece of high-quality wool and I'll hold it and think...wow, this feels incredible! Years of buying cheap clothing in chain stores -- and having to donate it or throw it out after five or six washings -- has taught me something about...well, the life-span cheap clothing. Friend Pete bought me a shot of Grey Goose vodka a few months ago and I was forced to admit that expensive alcohol really IS better. Now I spend a lot of time in liquor stores holding my stomach and crying.

Last week I bought an expensive pen. The initial idea was that paying good money for a pen would force me to USE it, but now I find myself holding the pen and thinking, "wow, this feels really good...it's like the Grey Goose of pens!" And when my last pair of cheap boots wore out after nine months, I found myself paying a bundle for a new moderately "good pair," and when I slip them on I know they're going to last. Or they'd better.

I have a reactionary response to what I consider "gentrification," that is, the ostentatious display of "wealth" with no regard for taste, appropriateness, or functionality. But here I am with my pen and my boots and my $50 hair-care products, not to mention all the money I've spent on CoverFX foundation (right down to the $40 "goat-hair brush"), and I wonder: why the change? Am I spending more money on these things simply because I CAN (or because I want to imagine myself as the sort of person who can) or because I'm appreciating "quality" more than I used to (or because I want to be a person who appreciates "quality?") There's a big distinction between those categories.

In short, I don't know. But if the biggest problem in my life is that I can now afford a beautiful pen, I suppose I'm doing pretty good for myself.

Blog Formulae

Slander against people who may someday read the blog? No.

Nasty things said about people who may someday read the blog and therefore be sad or vindictive? Probably not.

Comments which may be stupidly misconstrued and therefore put me on a "no fly" list? No.

Personal details about friends, relatives, and neighbours? Probably not.

Esoteria about myself that nobody else can possibly relate to? Of course! Except for dreams which are notoriously dull to read about.

Reviews of music, films, or books that portray me as a passive pop-culture sponge? Only one per page, hopefully.

Whining? Depression? Sympathy? Only when necessary.

Attempts at putting the world into logical order? Yes, but only when I feel like I either know what I'm talking about and/or can be entertaining about the subject.

Politics? Rarely.

True love? Bah!

The BusWalk Tour Gets a Boost!

This weekend's Kitchener-Waterloo Record has a nice article about the BusWalk Tour. It makes me sound a little goofy, but I suppose that I really do sound that way, and kudos to Colin Hunter for working in the "drag" variable without being too sensationalistic OR serious.

I was a bit nervous because I know how easy it is to be misquoted (through the power of editing, selective listening, selective memory, and "sexing up"), and I was afraid I'd see something out-of-context that would make me cringe. Nope! I feel no need to write an annotated version of the article.

For visitors who are curious about the tour itself (and not my vain worries about appearance and representation), click here to read all references to the tour in this blog, and rest assured that more are coming. My walkin' shoes have actually disintegrated and I hope to get some more today; maybe there'll be another trip tomorrow?

You can stay tuned and read other things, though...I think this blog is an interesting enough place to hold your attention, and it's also "work friendly." Please feel free to comment, critique, and suggest.

Because It's Thursday: "The Drill"

I don't give a darn about the song...it's the video that I love. I saw this tonight on Club Renaissance's video screen and I simply couldn't believe it. Just wow.

Eric Little Died Last Month

For the last month I've been waiting to see a comment from Eric Little in my inbox, wondering how his busy school term was shaping up, and it wasn't until today that I found out he died. I had to go searching because I never knew anything about his family, and he didn't use his real name, but he died late August on his way to the hospital, a month ago.

Eric wrote emails that I rarely answered, shamefully, and selfishly. I knew how to yank his chain. I declined the one opportunity to actually meet him in May. I won't lie, I could get annoyed how everything became an obscure cultural reference somehow. He knew his Vladimir Nabokov and his '60s pop. The Dos Passos novels he convinced me to read just arrived yesterday. I cared for him. I think he was incredibly smart, very sad, trying to make contact. I think he was also a "good man."

I can't decide what to do for him, but I'll think of something. I can't accept that he won't be writing to me anymore.

I know Eric loved to trawl YouTube. I think he'd enjoy this clip of Pete Townsend and John Entwistle performing "Face the Face." He would know all the trivia and he'd be bursting to share it. Enjoy the video, Eric, and please write a long comment about what it means! Really, please, tell me what you think.

Life at the Moment

A quick catch-up:

• Avidly reading John Barth's "LETTERS," trying always to find the most comfortable spot to read it in: porch, balcony, couch, chair, bed, coffee shop, park.
• Meanwhile proofreading a friend's satirical self-help book.
• Also reading a book on composing white papers, since I need to produce one at work.
• And promising, at some point, to read the graphic novels that Ash loaned me last week.
• Editing down certain songs ("Pretend to be Nice," "Terrible Thought," "Heart be Still") for this Thursday's open drag night, and making scattershot plans for the night itself.
• Watching the rain, the wind, and the gradual cooling of each day.
• Tending my hand, which has gotten worse due to all this activity. Acting upon the realization that POSTURE has a lot to do with the pain, and alternating cold-and-hot soaking seems to help it.
• Getting back, eventually, to working on UPhold's "Road to Avondale" project, and writing on Octavia-the-Neo (once my hand has improved and I start reading a lighter book), and taking the next BusWalk Tour.
• Watching the second season of "Twin Peaks" and enjoying it.
• Praying that I don't need to walk in the rain until I can buy new boots on the weekend.
• Pimping for my neighbour's dog. Waiting for the right time to approach the resident squirrels.
• Saving money with a vague hope of buying a car next spring.
• Anticipating next month's Pridetoberfest, BBGG DJ gig, hallowe'en, birthday, and "Mother Mother" live show.
  
• Jus' relaxin'.
  

Creepy Pedro Reviews Some Movies

Fans of "der Creepy" will be pleased to know that, regardless of the limbo-state of his latest radio play, Mr. Pedro will be appearing in Genxine on a regular basis (in issue #7 you'll find his reviews of "Performance" and "Michael Palin's Himalaya.")

Photos: Squirrels, Authors, and Sad Old Queens

Looking for pictures? There are some new ones at Flickr, including some hard-won shots of Rudolph the terrifying squirrel. Enjoy!

An iTunes Word Search: "Star"

When a song contains the word "star," what is the songwriter talking about?

1. All Star Funk (Bootsy Collins)
2. All the Stars are Falling (The Tear Garden)
3. Beloved Movie Star (Stan Ridgway)
4. Biggest Star (The Elected)
5. Brightest Star (The Legendary Pink Dots)
6. Catch a Fallen Star (Marc and the Mambas)
7. Child Star (Marc Almond)
8. The Darkest Star (Depeche Mode)
9. Dog Star (Klaatu)
10. Dogstar Man (Meat Beat Manifesto)
11. Filmstar (Suede)
12. Flesh Star (My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult)
13. I've Told Every Little Star (Linda Scott)
14. Manic Star (Conjure One)
15. Moon and Stars (Nits)
16. Mothership Connection -- Star Child (Parliament)
17. She's a Star (James)
18. Soul Mate Rock 'n' Roll Star (Mary 5e)
19. Star (Curve)
20. Star (Erasure)
21. Star Spangled Banner (Red House Painters)
22. Starchild (Level 42)
23. Starless and Bible Black (King Crimson)
24. Starlight (Stars of Stage and Screen)
25. Starmartyr (My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult)
26. Stars (The Weepies)
27. Stars Ablaze (Red Ram)
28. The Stars on 11 (Yoko Casionos)
29. Stars on Sunday (The Legendary Pink Dots)
30. The Stars That Surround You (Monster Movie)
31. The Stars We Are (Marc Almond)
32. Starstation Earth (Banco de Gaia)
33. Stereostar (Madrid)
34. Superstar (Daybehavior)
35. Til the Stars Fall (Strange Advance)
36. Top Star (Komeda)
37. Vein of Stars (The Flaming Lips)
38. Wannabe Superstar (Ivana F.)
39. We Are All Made of Stars (Moby)
40. You're a Star (Josie and the Pussycats)
41. Ziggy Stardust (Bauhaus)

Holy cow, that's a lot of stars! And go figure that Marc Almond would be in there twice (with a "tragic" view of stars: superstars that are also falling stars, bright and distant) as well as My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult (sexy/'70s/pop-porn-film stars).

Otherwise, what do these songs say about star metaphors? Fame, prestige, apocalypse, fairy tales, ambition, specialness, spooky universal mystery, tragedy, and wishing.