Archive for October, 2006

Play it Again, Samhain

Tuesday, October 31st, 2006

Count Catula

Have I mentioned that October is my favorite month? October is my favorite month. We’re at the tail end of it, but still. The heat breaks, the leaves change, the cold, even when it goes a bit overboard like last weekend thank you very much, is still refreshing and novel. I don’t swing my best in the heat — Temperate Man, I — and so these tweener seasons always set me ringing, like a wine glass tinged in toasting.

The going-back-to-work thing has had catastrophic effects on my writing: those three months of immersion in the book, every word a string within reach, were truly precious. Now, after my half-week of phone calls and typing and checking and summarizing and saying “whatever” under my breath, the arc of it is hard to see behind the trees; is obscured by clouds. I’ve written almost nothing this month, and most of what I do get down gets lifted and put in the “What Was I Thinking” file for future browsing. When the cold hits for real, I suspect the only way to move forward will be to spend a long stretch, like all of January and February, at home at all times. Linus isn’t all that handy at being a dull boy, but it may be time to practice.

This morning I couldn’t find my “This is my Costume” t-shirt, which calls into question the practicality of owning an item of clothing meant to be worn once a year (actually I do use it at the gym now and then). Because this is the day, this is its moment to shine, this is destiny calling. And where the hell is it? Damfino. So the Dr. Evil shirt is going in your place, wherever you are. Just so you know.

I’ve ridden a float in the Village Halloween Parade for the last few years, but this time out Chuck isn’t doing his float; instead I’m meeting a friend who charmingly thinks we’ll be able to amble over at 8:00 or so to get a good view. I’m thinking it’s not going to go that way, but as long as I don’t tell her the odds (didn’t Captain Kirk say something like that once?) maybe she’ll do that Magic Thing and get us gliding. I’m not sure if this is a Date or not — there are indications on both sides, I imagine — but we like hanging out, so.

Tonight’s a frenzy for photographers. I’ve been shooting up a storm in general, and I’m thinking I’ll lay off the camera and take a breather. Because the funny thing about Halloween pictures? They really are wonderful, for the most part, but you also kind of know what you’re going to get, and then you get it, and it’s a lot of hassle along the way. Of course I’ll have the camera. I wonder if I’ll ever go to a parade again without a camera nearby in case I need it. But I plan to be vague and ungoaled and wandery, which is working against type.

Thongwriting 101

Friday, October 13th, 2006

Overheard at the bar of a well-known East Village venue.

Well-Known Local Songwriter #1: “What about motherfucker then?”

Well-Known Local Songwriter #2: “No, no that won’t work; it has four syllables, it won’t fit a classic meter. Cocksucker, on the other hand, it’s a waltz, it’s natural for a waltz.”

Spoiling Buffy

Saturday, October 7th, 2006

Midnight Snack - The Other Red Meat

For ups of 15 years I haven’t had a TV. Technically speaking I have one now, but since it’s friends only with the aging DVD player and does not actually receive television – I’m in a basement apartment, so that’s that for the airwaves, and I’ve resisted cable all these years on the assumption that otherwise I’ll be able to find some variant of Star Trek at any hour and will never get anything done – it’s pretty much like not having one at all.

This makes for endless entertainment. For example, I never understand anything anyone says until at least lunchtime the day after a popular show.

Person in the Office: No soup for you! Whoa ho ho ho!
Me: This is a bagel.
Person in the Office: Still.

For another, and I count this a blessing, Gawker is for the most part an incomprehensible wave of cheeky irrelevance, and since I have no idea what they’re ever talking about, I don’t have to read it.

When I do get TV obsessions they come via DVD’s, which in turn come from generous-lender friends of mine who occasionally get them back. My record so far for a season of 24 is just under four days. Yay Jack Bauer!

Since there isn’t any more Firefly coming – woe! woe! woe! – I get my necessary Joss Whedon fix via Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVD’s, which I borrow from the estimable Jess. Once I’m done with it there’s no more Buffy coming down the pike, so I try to amble through the series rather than racing. This worked fine with the first three pretty-good seasons, but Season Four was – how shall I put it? – so totally awesome that I sucked it down like a 24 cocktail.

Um, here there be spoilers. Just so you know. I’m pretty sure I’m the only guy in America who has only seen Buffy up to Season Four so far, but you never know.

So last night I’m laired on the sofa, a platter of take-out Chinese simmering in the belly, and I turn for dessert to the special features commentaries. Joss, writer Marti Noxon, and actor Seth Green are giggly and interesting as they talk their way through the Wild at Heart episode. If you’re a Buffy buff, you’ll recall that the Slayer is just getting over a bad experience with Parker (the bum!) at this point; Riley is making his first overtures; Oz and Willow are about to pile up on some sharp sharp relationship rocks, via a comely young werewolf bitch named Veruca (also there’s some business about saving the world, but who cares about that).

Joss: (blah blah blah, sex leads to trouble on my shows, just look at Willow and Oz – so peaceful, something has to happen, blah blah blah) …and then, of course, in Season Six when Buffy and Spike have sex –
Me: ARRRRRRGH
Joss: Oops. I think I ruined someone’s year.