Well, 2009, as my Grandfather used to say; "It's nice to see you come, and nice to see you go". Percy, wherever you are - I couldn't agree more.
I took this photo on Christmas Eve down on the beach at English Bay. I thought it was sort of fitting. Part of me feels that they are celebrating the upcoming future, going forward with glee and good spirits. Another part of me feels they are laughing at the departure of the bad things, and that while "Joy is in the ears that hear", type-thing and they are looking forward to the upcoming future. Its kind of the same thing, no?
All I know is that as one who really doesn't put much stock in the passing of the years - for 2009? I say good riddance. Thanks for dropping by - and there's the door.
According to the Chinese Zodiac, 2009 apparently was the Year of the Ox. That's funny, because I was sure that it was "The Year of Getting Urinated On From A Great Height".Even after all that though? I'm going to remain cautiously optimistic about 2010.
Bonne Annee, and Bonne Chance, Everyone.
*wǒ kào (我靠 or 我尻) – "Well fuck me!", "Fuck!", "Fuckin' awesome!" or "Holy shit!" (Originally from Taiwan, this expression has spread to the mainland, where it is generally not considered to be vulgar. 尻 originally meant "butt.") Source: Wikipedia
In the last 8 weeks, I've had the rather ignonymous duty as serving as sounding board for 3 friends who's marriages that have very recently broken up. Also, I've been an impartial observer to a long term relationship that recently hit the skids as well. I think it's been a tough year all around for matters of the heart.
I loved, Loved, LOVED this version when I initially saw it. The great Todd Rundgren, Live From Daryl's house, with a crack band, and two blue-eyed Philly soul men at the peak of their powers.
I've been trying for a while now to find a way to slide this song in here without being maudlin. It's honest, earnest, & truthful - it's everything what a perfect pop song should be; Unbelievable background vocals, true artists flexing their creative muscles, and showing the rest of us poor schlubs the real meaning of craft & taste. All while singing about something as horrible as heartbreak & loss. Sometimes though, heartbreak & loss can create beautiful things. This must be one of them.
It's always impresses me how quiet my apartment building, and the surrounding neighborhood are at 4:00 Am. I live one block west of Denman Street in downtown Vancouver - a fairly main street, 4 blocks from the beach, the strip, and such, but once you cross Denman, westwardly towards Stanley Park, it's a completely different deal. No traffic noise. No sounds of the bums & dumpster divers dragging their shopping carts in an endless procession up and down the back alleys, No sound of anything, really.
The reason I know this, is because I went to bed around midnight and 2 hours later, it appears I'm up for the duration. I tried reading myself back to sleep (which, if any of you might have slept with me at anytime over the last 20 years, you'd know it's usually fail-safe, and a bone of contention to any and all sleeping partners) and yet nothing. So after an hour of tossing & turning (I'm reading Cormac McCarthy's "The Road, which in its own is depressing enough to keep anyone awake) but it's not just that. Another hour went by, and I tried a sleeping pill which I rarely, if ever do. I had some left over from my last overseas trip - and nothing. So, I pulled out the big guns, a steaming hot mug of Neo-Citran - and nothing. So now it's 4:15 AM, and I'm resorting to some very good 18 year old scotch. If this doesn't work, I'm going to be at my wits end. The only thing even remotely comforting about this, is that eventually, the scotch will kick in sometime within the next 20 hours or so, I should be getting some sleep. Hangover most probably included.
I have a considerable amount on my mind. I suppose this is just the way my subconscious deals with it. This would be much easier though, if it would do it at 1:00 PM, but then again, I'd be missing out on sitting in my living room with candles going at 5:00 AM, with all my windows open on an eerily quiet night, listening to Joe Purdy sing "Wash Away".
This time last year - the Lower Mainland was in the grip of a massive, week-long, once in a decade-type blizzard. This year? Nothing but green grass & blue skies.
On a different note - I always sort of though I was plugged in to the artists whom I admire, and to my utter astonishment - I JUST stumbled over Live from Daryl's House. Daryl Hall is one massively cool dude. He invites up & coming artists to his house, and him and his absolute crack band play old H&O songs, the guest artist's songs, and cook up huge dinners each week. A new episode is webcast on the 15th of each month. Check out the Todd Rundgren, Company of Thieves, and Parachutes episodes. Brilliant. Simply brilliant.
As for me, I'm retrieving the aluminum pole from the crawl-space (very high strength to weight ratio) and preparing for the annual airing of grievances.
It's not seasonal, but I thought to include a beautiful version of "Hey There Delilah" with Daryl, the band, and the Plain White T's. As with staying with the above smiling motif, it made me smile. Hope it does to you as well.
*The above picture was taken by my assistant in Cannes 2 years ago - George and the rest of the Oceans 12? 13? crew walked right past our window at the Palais du Festivals on the way to their press conference* So, my obvious, awkward, man-crush on George Clooney aside, I saw the footage of Reitman's new film "Up In The Air" previewed at the Toronto Film Fest in September, and it knocked my socks off.
The 'teaser footage' below is something that Jason Reitman cut exclusively for the web. He had a battle royale with the marketing folks at Paramount to release it. The officially sanctioned trailers 1, 2, & 3 are all very well done - but this one is the best. Well done Sir! Well done indeed! The basic guts of the story is about a guy who is corporate downsizer, which means that he works for a company who is contracted by their clients to fire their own employees. He has no life, travels 300 days a year, has a goal to make 10,000,000 air miles, and is more at home in an airport, rather than, well, than at home. Until he gets downsized. The National Post has a pretty nice review. I'm sure there are others that are better, but the way Chris Knight spun his tale about the film - it just kind of stuck with me.
As one who has spent a considerable amount of time in airports, flitting from one city to another, one continent to another, (or quite infrequently, one relationship to another), while risking nothing but an inconsequential personal life... I'm completely down with this story. They even interviewed (and filmed) 25 people who had lost their jobs during this massive recession, and included them in the movie.
For the record? I'm only up to 92,000 air miles. Thank goodness.
"... I want to fight to get it back again".(The Fixer / Backspacer / Pearl Jam / Rel 2009)
Rock & Roll, my brothers & sisters! It's indeed a contact sport, even into your '40's.
I've really been grocking on the new-ish Pearl Jam record. It clocks in at a paltry 33:36, and is (for the most part anyway) chock-full of optimism & hope. As an added bonus, the below video for "The Fixer" was directed by the great Cameron Crowe.
"When something's low, I want to put a bit of high on it When something's lost, I want to fight to get it back again When signals cross, I want to put a bit of straight on it If there's no love, I want to try and love again".
The prototypical angry young men have become middle aged fathers and gloriously squeezed out a joyful, happy record... and I think that's all right.
What the heck is it about this particular month? Has everyone gone insane? Everything always seems to suck balls in November. To reinforce; I can refer you to Terry & Sab's Dog Dawson 2007, the Silly Fresh Water Riots of 2006, The Month Of The Dead from 2005, also My Cousin Maya's dog Shilo 2005 (Or, for that matter, my last three weeks if you're a particularly avid sadist).
It was also this November where I very quietly noted the 25th anniversary of the passing of my Mom. 25 years! It's just crazy. It still seems like it was yesterday. Also, in 3 weeks, it's going to be the 7th anniversary of the passing of my Dad - just before Christmas. (As a side note, I'm thinking of trademarking December as November Jr.).
A few people who are very important to me have drifted out of my life as well, but hey - it's ok - people come and people go in each others lives all the time. It's the natural progression of things really. The only thing that sticks in my craw is that both are long time friends, and of whom I've invested a considerable amount of time & energy, and *poof* they've just disappeared / dried up and blown away in the winds. That would be the November Winds - if anyone out there is keeping score (or still awake). I feel that November can make one... disposable. Has anyone else noticed this?
Here's another tidbit: although we didn't come CLOSE to the record set in 2006, I'm please to report that in November 2009, out of 30 days - we had 26 of rain, and only had 38.6 hours of sunshine the entire month. The reason that statistic is relevant is that 7.2 hours of that sunshine came last Friday - one of the few days we had more than a few uninterrupted hours of not getting covered by grey skies and deluged with pelting rain.
Last Friday morning, as I was padding around the kitchen before work, making a cup of tea, something made me glance upwards to the ceiling, and there was about 100 fucking larvae crawling around up there! Larvae. Beige colored, about 1/2 inch long. Everywhere. Now, with a nod towards my growing maturity - if this was 10 years ago - I'd have simply moved - that same day. But now, I spent my time cursing, and doing the pee-pee dance obliterating baby whatever they are, and called the building Super. Turns out they are Mediterranean Moths. They most likely hitched a ride home in some groceries, and then set up shop inside my pantry walls, venturing out to snack on various kinds of breakfast cereal and such. I get to look forward to a full apartment fumigation over the weekend, as opposed to last weekend, where I spent it painting Uncle Stan's house (Aka the job that will never end).
Last night, a friend of mine was passing through town for the Whistler Film Festival, called me up, and we got together for a late night spur of the moment cocktail at the Hotel Pan Pacific overlooking Vancouver's magnificent harbor. We're old pals because we gossip like schoolgirls and talk smack like NBA players, so it's always a pleasure to spend some time with KB. About 5 minutes into it she dropped a bombshell - she and her husband of 5 years are splitting up. I was shocked, and obviously more than a little concerned for her. As people often do, we went through the details, dug up the nasty bits, talked about the past and the future. And, as I so often do, I stole the line from Todd Rundgren's great song Parallel Lines (So I send you the gift of empathy), and we talked for a while. We got to talking about the anatomy of a break-up. How it happens, how you are supposed to feel, what do you do with your life now... the usual stuff. Then she asked "What's happening in YOUR life?".
I sort of spat my drink all over the table (mainly through my nose), then blithely changed the subject.
So now, for something completely different, (and to celebrate the passing of The Cruelest Month), captured via a nature-cam, here's a happy young Elk calf playing in a wallow.
As previously stated, I Like / Have a Man-Crush on / LOVE Crowded House & Neil Finn. In my opinion, they are the bar that sets the standard for basically all of pop-music history in the 20th Century (Besides the those hacks - The Beatles).
This, of course brings me to "Together Alone", their dark masterpiece which was their 4th album, released in October, 1993. Among such classics as "Distant Sun", "Pineapple Head", & "Private Universe", there was "Catherine Wheels". This is one of those songs that sadly didn't become a hit single. I blame society in general. What a masterpiece of a song! When you listen to it, try not to get hypnotized by the beauty of the melody (which is hard NOT to do) but follow the lyrics, and the piece takes on a whole new slant. ("Who's needs do I serve?").
Speaking of a whole new slant...
I've very recently left my job and got dumped in a relationship. But, if I can be honest? I've probably been dumped in 3 relationships because of the job I just dumped. (Somewhere out there, the ghost of Freud is either having a double latte, or a migrane). I'm starting on a new thing that may or may not be great, and that scares the bejeezus out of me. But I remain optimistic - I have to be. I've seen the other side, and I'm, well, not going to be dumping any more. (That, on retrospect sounds SO wrong in so many ways - except if you are into weird, German Porn - then you know what I'm talking about).
It's late. I should have been in bed 3 hours ago, but I can't get this song out of my head. So instead I'm staying up, drinking some very good Irish Whiskey, and boring all 3 of you who read this, while continually hoping for the best.
Listen below for the ongoing greatness of Crowded House:
She's gone, Vanished in the night Broke off the logic of light He woke, tore the covers back Found he was empty inside
(Catherine Wheels / Together Alone / Crowded House / Rel. 10/1993)
The end of two long-term relationships happened this week; I left my job, and the long term girl finally came to her senses, and pulled the last plug on our already-on-life-support-long-distance-relationship. The writing for both had been on the wall for a long time, and I'm surprised that it took this long to disconnect the machines.
Regarding the Job? I had been waiting for a year to spring the divorce papers. I needed new horizons, new challenges, all without the constant reminder of the stress, time served / time wasted and broken promises of the years gone by. Regarding the girl - little did I know she was looking for the exact same thing. I knew both weren't going to work. I wanted them to, but I wound up delivering my usual half-assed job for each of them. I was subconsciously sabotaging both.
But - turning that frown upside down - It's better this way. It has to be.
Now, I get to branch out into the brave new world - alone, and unencumbered. Free of all fetters & restraints, and ready to make hopefully my last fresh start. No looking back. Just learn from what is seeming like a litany of mistakes. (Pretty soon, I'll be publishing Cole's Notes on the litany of mistakes - bullet points only mind you - as it would otherwise it could be mistaken as Job's owners manual). I also suppose I should have thought this strategy over a little more since buying my new BMW 2 days ago, while knowing I was pulling the plug on my job today.... but hey, no-one ever accused me of being boring! (Or smart, for that matter).
So in closing; I've got a spanky new car, an uncertain future staring me in the face, and, well, a fresh start.
Let's hope I don't fuck this next one up.I'm running out of chances.
The Canadian Film Industry did. I'm only throwing it back.
A few weeks ago when I was in Cannes, I was walking home to my flat when my phone rang. It was one of my friends who is one of the head programmers for the Toronto Film Festival. We've always enjoyed a friendly, non-working, cocktail - laden relationship, and while I was navigating the traffic whilst crossing the highway at le Boulevard Republic, he explained that the reason for his call was to invite me to be one of the 10 "Professionals" who choose the Top 10 Canadian films of 2009, and they would be pleased if I would take part.
"Hell Yeah" was my response. Maybe I might have some market value after all, and I was (and am still) very honored.
Two weeks later, and my package of films finally showed up. Now, this also is an extraordinarily busy time as the American Film Market starts next week, so I've got my day job to attend to, plus, a TON of after hours work in order to book my meetings, screen the films I need to see for last minute acquisitions, try and have what resembles a social life, and basically get my ducks in a row. When they finally arrived, I took a quick gander, and I was desperately hoping I'd never say this, but here it is:
I've seen the future of Canadian filmmaking, and the future, my friends, is bleak indeed.
What a pile of crap I've willingly dove into! I know Telefilm (The Canadian Government Funding body for most films that get made in Canada) have the taste of a dead Water Buffalo's anus, but really, this lot is bollocks. Of the 24 films to plow through, and NONE of them are any good or close to being commercially viable, by any stretch of the imagination. I can say this with some authority as I've been in the business for close to 20 years, and have done everything from selling home video, to realeasing films domestically, to acquiring films for North America and International, to selling films internationally... blah blah blah. In short- I've been around the block a few times, and I Do know what I'm talking about.
They are ALL bupkiss. It's an embarrassment. I'm outraged because as a taxpayer, these are where yours and my dollars are going, that they are never going to turn a thin dime, and certainly not repay Telefilm Canada for their investment in a picture that any blithering idiot / bureaucrat with enough sense to rub two matches together, who, after reading the script, should have invested $$ in Bernie Madoff rather than "a Tale of life in a northern British Columbia Town..." Seriously. Just shoot me now. Every year, Canada tries to laud it's homegrown "talent" but instead you get the something close to an allegorical cinematic version of "a wretched hive of scum & villainy..."
So I've spent all my scarce hours preparing for the world's 2nd largest film market by coming home from my difficult, stressful job, and putting yet another bad Canadian film in the DVD player (3 - 4 per night), hoping for the best, but getting the worst. And I mean THE worst! I actually had to stop last night and take a dramatic renewal of purpose. It was so scary that today, I called my friend at TIFF, and said (paraphrased)
Me: "Dude. With the stuff you've sent me, I'm unable to assemble a Top 10 list. I'm unable to even submit to you a Top 2 list. Sorry, but with what you've provided me, I can't give you what you want. These films are THAT bad".
Him: "I know. I'm sending you another 25 or so 2nd week in November, these will be better".
Me:"Oh. Ok. Thanks for letting me know, (and wasting the last 30 or so hours of my life watching dreadful movies)".
Him:"No problem. We appreciate your support. It will get better, but we had to send you everything that was applicable to be to be in contention. It will get better though".
So that's been my life over the last 10 days. Working a difficult, stressful job, of which I'm totally burnt, burnt, BURNT out from, only to blast home, and subject myself to 6 hours of dreadful, and I mean dreadful Canadian films night after night, only to find out that they knew most of them had their challenges all along. The good stuff is coming in a couple of weeks. I should say now that I can't wait. But I won't.
This kind of got away from me, because I started writing this quite late last night. I was dejected about my life, my social life, the idiocy of Telefilm Canada for green lighting (and funding projects) that only more contribute to the decrepit state of Canadian Film, (which contributes more to my misery) when I said "Fuck It". I lay on my floor and started aimlessly flipping through channels, and stumbled upon Bravo's 6 night installment of Monty Python's 40 year anniversary. This one dealt with The Life Of Brian, and in a few seconds my despair turned sideways. John Cleese, Eric Idle, Michael Palin, Terry's Jones & Gilliam were talking about their favorite scenes from the Meaning of Life, and this came on.
"All I said was, that Halibut was good enough for Jehovah".
This totally made me laugh, while lying on my floor at 1:30 AM, as the ugliness & stress of my recent days melted off.
