geekent’s stuff’n things

30/04/2006

Next stop Mount Royal: Montreal Pt. 4

Filed under: Travel — graigkent @ 9:57 pm

One of my favourite Montreal attractions is the roof puppy:

Out back, behind a Starbucks, this little Scottish Terrier and his twin run around, perhaps looking for a way down, or perhaps just to spit on the Anglos (can a Scottish Terrier also be French?… who knows)

We speculated that some dude forgot his dog’s leash and just tossed him up there while he went into the ‘bucks to grab a Tall Frappamochatinilatte and a piss, and when he comes back the dog just jumps into his arms… although how he does it with the Frappa(etc) I don’t know.

I’ve lost track of the days

We’re now three weeks out of the Montreal trip and I’ve been blogging everything out of order, and now I’ve forgotten chronology myself. I think it was the Wednesday (day 3, evening 4) that we climbed Mount Royal.
That would be it, behind the statue of… thingy there.

Often Mt. Royal will play host to a group of LARPers (Live Action Role Players). These people get all decked out in full medievil regala - chainmail, armor, swords, maces, axes - and play fight for hours on end, or until they boil themselves in their metal gear in the hot sun. There were no LARPers this day, only a bunch of school children, and I’d hardly call kicking a ball around LARPing, unless this is the hot new Football LARPing that all the kids in Britain are into these days… “I get to be poncy Beckham.”.
Toast and Metro recreated some larping for us. “FIREBALL”

As we pondered the hill, looking at the various paths, I decided upon the path least taken (well, least taken by humans, it seems to be the path water takes, erm, downwards).

Sure it doesn’t look that impressive, until you see people make their way up it.
Marmy and Linda said “Nuts to the stupid boy stuff” and took a proper path up. I scurried my way up and what I thought was a moderate pace and gave Mini-moose a look at the view while waiting for Toast and Metro.

We found a super cool clearing, and took some shots of the expansive city. Toast looks tiny, even though he’s the size of an apartment building.

For some reason there’s a giant industrial cross at the top of Mount Royal. It’s got, like, some religious significance or something. I dunno. There was a couple making out on a blanked near it, and an old lady on a bench smiling politely at us as I tried to compose a good shot of Harvey attacking the iron behemoth.

We found the proper clearing, cement platform, rest station, banquet hall, cement squirrels and all. Harvey ponders Montreal. Conclusion: is pretty.

If you thought I made getting up the hill more challenging than it should’ve been, you should have seen how I got down… backwards the whole way. I’m not certain, but I’m going to proclaim myself as the first person to ever descend Mt. Royal backwards…
As I was coming down, I fell into the pit by a derelect hobo hut. It’s very Survivorman-esque… likely abandoned over winter by the looks of the wear, but probably will be rebuilt for the summer.

Later that day: more eats


We had lunch at Cafe Santropal, which was just down the street from that statue like thing at the top of this post. I never at a moment had a single ounce of understanding as to where I was in the city for pretty much most of the trip… so don’t ask me for specifics.
Santropal had some very unique sandwich combinations (like the No. 13 - banana, honey, creame cheese and blackcurrent jam - or the Minted Ham - ham, mint, apples and cucumbers). Toast and I split our sandwiches… I ordered the Yelapa Moon (hungarian cheese, tomato and chicken with a pesto spread and sweet onions):

Toast meanwhile got the Santropol, a rich blend of roast beef, blue cheese, cream cheese, and spices.

All very filling.

Perhaps the best meal I’ve ever had

For dinner we couldn’t really decide on where to go. Linda had a few photocopied or printed off sheets with restaurant recommendations, so she let her fingers do the walking. She was back quickly and said “we’re going to Pucapuca. The man on the phone was so incredibly nice, we have to go there.”
And we did.

I think it’s safe to say that most of us can die now, having experienced true happiness there.
Pucapuca, in the Incan language of Quipus, means literally Red-red, the menu explained in its opening paragraph… yes, the menu had reading material, delightfully informative and humourous reading material. The owner of the resto is from originally deep in the Amazon basin in Peru, it informs and it details the origins of his restaurant’s name, little tidbits about his homeland, and a lot of information on Peruvian cuisine.
His menu consists of three courses plus drinks… all inclusive (except alcohol) for $15 (holy craps!).
We either started with the beef soup… (just a tad lighter fare than stew, more of a beef broth than chunks-o-beef dish… so amazing I sopped up all the broth with a fresh bun and had a near white bowl remaining).

… or the salad (which had everything from raisins and apples to sprouts and cabbage in a berry vinagarette)

I ordered the coconut chicken, which was about as tender a chicken as I’ve ever had - tap it with a fork and it falls apart - in a senses pleasing coconut sauce. The beans were absolutely heavenly. I could have cried they were so good.

We capped off the evening with desert… Queen Elizabeth Cake…
I’ve had QEC before as it’s one of my grandmother’s dessert recipes but Metro had never tried it before. Spice cake resting of a bed of dates, with a brown sugar glaze and coconut, Metro started to cry, literally, because he was so overwhelmed with flavour. Coconut and dates, ladies, if you want to win the man’s heart. Coconut and dates.
“I’m going to need to hug that man before we leave,” Metro said wiping away the tears of joy.

We were, quite literally, all in a state of food induced euphoria during our exceedingly pleasant visit to Pucapuca. Blissed out and feeling blessed, we reclined and enjoyed the rhythms pumping over the stereo, sitting otherwise in silence. We wandered the city for a little bit after that. The trip was great, but we realized that we just had the experience that made everything worthwile.
Pucapuca: 5400 St. Laurent
Go.

Toonage Reviews

Filed under: On Disc — gkentetc @ 2:11 pm

The Futureheads - News and Tributes
Vagrant
The Futureheads - News and TributesThe debut self-titled album from England’s The Futureheads is still an excessively engaging and listenable album, one of my favourites from 2004, and an easy contender for one of my favs for the decade. Full of catchy pop hooks with sweet in-harmony vocals contained in a dozen concise nuggets, it would prove hard for their sophomore album to measure up to it. News and Tributes is that album, and as much as I hated to admit it, I was disappointed. The songs aren’t as immediate as their debut, however there is a definite growth in the sound, extending songs more and more beyond the two and even three minute mark with more instrumentation (though still not straying from the drum/guitar/bass ensemble). I gave News and Tributes a few listens, each time feeling a little less disappointed, but still not engaged. Then one day, standing at a transit stop, I found myself singing along to almost every song. Though less overt, the latest Futureheads is just as infectious, and songs like “Skip to the End”, “Burnt” and “Yes/No” are some of their best yet. Disappointment has made way for pleasant surprise, and perhaps another favourite album.
4.5 out of 5
Republic of Safety - Vacation
Ta Da! Records
The politically and/or sexually charged Republic of Safety have been local Toronto ambassadors for a few years now, spreading their gospel sardonic to the masses. Vacation is their second EP, a quartet of garage punk growling over things like overpackaging and small town living. Though hardly a one person act, artist/playwright Maggie Macdonald is the obvious spearhead for the group, taking the lyric writing and lead vocal chore for the band. The standout track, featuring Owen Pallet (aka Final Fantasy) and Gentleman Reg, has a catchy big-band pop sing-n-clap-a-long sound that feels Hidden Cameras-esque (which is no surprise given Macdonald/Pallet/Reg’s ties to that group). The other three tracks, however, don’t feel so big and aren’t nearly as infectious. Macdonald feels stuck in a pseudo-Elastica impersonation, which isn’t that awkward but it never seems natural. There’s a theatricality to it that’s on the one hand interesting, but on the other somewhat disingenuous.
2.5 out of 5
Islands - Return to the Sea
Equator Records
The Unicorns’ quirky brand of folk-punk-electropop didn’t last long, and the trio’s highly touted live antics either inspired or outraged potential fans. One thing that could always be said about them was they were definitely different. Out of the ashes, two of the group’s members, Nick Diamonds and J’aime Tambeur forged on, with new members and an arsenal of instruments. Return to the Sea was recorded in Montreal, and mixed in a bedroom, giving it an intimate and yet monstrous sound. Kicking off the album is a sweeping nine-minute-plus track, “Swans”, which is as epic as “Bat Out of Hell” but more adventurous, less aggressive (and sounds nothing like it). Followed by the baroque “Humans”, the Unicorns’ sound still seeps through, but here is more polished and sonically dense, to its advantage. Hints of Brian Wilson, Simon & Garfunkel, and 60’s Ameri-pop waver through, but Islands twists and turns any sound-alike conventions on their head with a hyper dose of multi-instrumentation, some electronic tinges, and even the odd-but-fitting foray into calypso, hip-hop and math rock. Where they succeed best is in the long-form near-operatic, but each song has its own unique style while blending in with the album as a whole.
4.5 out of 5
The Diableros - You Can’t Break the Strings In Our Olympic Hearts
Baudelaire
With the success of both the Montreal and Toronto music scenes on an international scale, a large-ish (6-member, co-ed) band such as the Diableros is bound to get comparisons to the big names from the respective cities. Yes, there is a passing likeness in sound to the Arcade Fire, most specifically in the vocals, as the Diableros’ singer Pete Carmichael does have a wavering, strained rasp that is akin to the Fire’s Win Butler. But Carmichael’s vox are fuzzed out, which is consistent with the overall tone of …Olympic Hearts, the Toronto band’s debut album. In this manner they remind me more of the Rock*A*Teens, (an underrated 90’s underground Merge act) with urgent, pleasing, and romantic-sans-clichĂ©, making muddy, noisy-but-tender rock songs floating atop a subversive Stereolab-like drone. There’s complexity toe tunes like “Push It To Monday” or “Through the Foam”, but also an uplifting sensibility which is already spreading out from Toronto to multi-national realms.
4 out of 5
DANGERDOOM - Occult Hymn EP
www.adultswim.com
The success of last year’s merging of (now superstar) DJ Danger Mouse and notorious rhymesayer/producer MF Doom didn’t really surprise anyone with passing familiarity of the duo’s individual output, but the success of The Mouse and The Mask transcended performance expectations in part because of their alliance with the Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim cartoon lineup. In some respects it’s a novelty album, with the success of shows like Aqua Teen Hunger Force and Harvey Birdman: Attorney At Law already on the wane, but in other respects, it’s a phenomenal combination of Danger Mouse’s always inventive sound collages and MF Doom’s even cleverer, pop-cult infused wordspeak. By all rights DANGERDOOM was an on-off project, and I doubt anyone was expecting a follow-up, but Adult Swim commissioned more tracks from the duo, making them available on-line rather than in stores, together under the mast of Occult Hymn EP. You have to expect a certain level of quality from DANGERDOOM, and they deliver to that level, but rarely exceed it. Hardly a disappointment, it’s an extension to The Mouse and The Mask rather than its own independent project. Seven tracks, comprised of three remixes (standout track is Madlib’s flutey 70’s remix of “Space Ho’s”, two interlude skits featuring cartoon excerpts, and a couple bonus tracks.
3 out of 5

28/04/2006

The City I Live In Is Ugly (compared to) Montreal Pt. 3

Filed under: Travel — graigkent @ 3:13 pm

Okay, I’ve been putting this off for too long and things have gotten vague already. I should have kept better notes… but then, that’s what photographs are for. Of course, photographs don’t actually say a thousand words, they’re just worth that much on the currency market… thus if I have a picture and a thousand words, I’m a rich, rich man. Or someting.

Goofballs

A big part of our experience in Montreal was enjoying each other’s company for hours and hours and hours on end. The fact that we didn’t really grate on each other’s nerves at all (for the most part) was one of the most amazing things about the trip. The fact that we’re all comfortable enough to act like jackasses in public and amuse ourselves certainly helps. We had a lot of recurring jokes that would constantly make us giggle. One of them was this poor woman’s last name.

I know it’s not actually pronounced the way it looks, but “Male Parts” cropped up in our conversations more often than we’d care to admit, often as a left-field punchline. I quess the province was going through an election the week we were there, and so campaign posters were everywhere.
Quebec campaigns, primarily because of sovereignty issues, seem much more… heated or threatening than Ontario elections. Here, we know no matter who we elect, something is going to get screwed up. There, it’s like “do I want them to screw things up? Yes or no….”
Anyway, we passed by this modern art gallery one evening and there was this statue of a feminine dancer, but, guess what… MALEPARTS! In your face!

And because we’re juvenile fucking goofs, we kept giggling all week when we’d pass by the “Couche-Tard”. Hell, I still giggle about it now. It has such a better ring to it than “Macs”. It’s more fun to say at least *giggle*.
The Couche-Tards all had these oddball slushie drinks that they proudly promoted… like the Cheddar Tropical

It was actually an incredibly saccharine mango-lime type flavour… which Metro didn’t like so much…

I mean, I should have expected that it actually wouldn’t taste like cheese… but I was kind of hoping, as much as I was disgusted by the thought. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t nearly as wince-inducing detestable as Mr. Over-emoter there would have you believe. The poster adverts for the drink featured shaved mice on surfboards… mmmkay.
One of the other Couche-Tard slushie flavours was RoseBeef, which I imagine is about as close to a true Meatshake as we’ll get.

One of our favourite gags involved Toast’s demonstration of Montreal-style lap dancing. The hilarous effect isn’t really reproducable in words, but suddenly “Grindy grindy grindy grindy” became our infectious catchphrase (which to us is as great, if not better than any Seinfeld, South Park, Simpsons or Family Guy reference… not sure if it trumps our many Gir from Invader Zim punctuations [TAQUITOS!] though). “Grindy grindy grindy grindy” also became shorthand for the boys to communicate when one of the city’s plentiful attractive ladies passed by.
This brings up another observation of mine though… Montreal is a stylish town. The ladies generally look better there than they do in Toronto, mainly because it seems almost uniform in how fashionable everyone it. Unlike T.O., Montreal doesn’t seem to have as many prevailing and opposing scenes. While here we have the indies, the artsies, the hipsters, the goths, the metal head (”bangers”), the drunks, the homeless, the 905ers, the sporty, the outdoorsy (MEC shoppers), the preppy, the prissy, the businessmen and the casual, for the most part there everyone seemed to be sticking with the same style, which here would be primarily Yorkville crowd.
Here I wouldn’t even blink twice if I saw an early-90’s grunge dude pass by (it’s apparently Retro already, sigh), but in Montreal, a dude in a Che Guevara cap adorned with a sequence of safety pins stands out. Facial piercings were around, but they were moderate, so I didn’t see many of the, what we like to call, freaks of the industry… dudes and chicks with more metal in their face than in their change purse with big spacers in their ears. It just seems like people in Montreal don’t really step outside unless they’re made up. Not a lot of the jogging pants ‘n’ curlers crowd around there.
All this doesn’t make Montreal people better people, if anything the homogeny could be undesireable, but they are immediately more attractive to look at, because that’s what fashion is for afterall. Grindy grindy grindy grindy.

It’s not too beautiful enough


As the people were beautiful (well, the women at least… the guys were a mixed bag of ass and snappyness), so too was the city. New Yorkers always comment about how clean Toronto is compared to their hometown, well, equally Montreal is that much cleaner compared to my city. Perhaps it’s the fact that there’s not a lot of clutter on the sidewalk… there are no street vendors, no hotdog merchants… just pedestrians and the occasional construction barrier (a lot of construction going on there).
While Montreal may not have as much trash on its streets, at least we don’t have Raelians…

Montreal’s architecture is much more old-world. They’ve taken great pains and pride to keep the city’s historical flavour and it shows. The old buildings that are there are amazing, and the new buildings that are built tend to recede into their environment so as not to stand out too much.

But occasionally there are some new builds which just pop, and yet still fit the city, like the vibrantly multi-coloured Palais des congras de Montreal

It looks gorgeous at night, all lit up. Toronto on the other hand is just an architectural Frankenstein. It seems new builds here are meant to stand out, and they compete in how much they stand out making for a gaudy landscape. The new renovations to the ROM’s exterior are, well, nasty. You could just put a big poster of Paris Hilton out front and achieve the same effect. Crystals my ass, we’re not on Krypton. Toronto just tries too hard to be something interesting without uniformly accepting what that interesting is supposed to be or look like. Just like fashion, everyone’s trying to break out as individuals, to stand out as unique, and it’s one of the reasons I love living here. But Young & Sexy are right… the city I live in is ugly, at least compared to Montreal.
Someone likened Montreal to Boston, in terms of it’s architectural heritage. It makes me want to see Boston. Of course, I hear Boston has shit roads as well (Montreal and Quebec’s road infrastructure is in horrendous shape)

Day 3 Eats


Olive + Gourmando was literally spitting (for a champion spitter at least) distance from the hostel and was easily one of the best reasons to wake up in the morning (corn muffins with blueberries and raspberries…yes please!). Lunch was damn good too (I had a Mr. Salami sandwich and an oatmeal cookie).

A couple different salamis, goats cheese, a garlic chipotle and tomato. Yum
There was only one place I was told I *HAD* to go in Montreal to eat, and that was Schwartz’s famous Montreal Smoked Meat deli.

Schwartz’s has a reputation, and it’s reputation doesn’t live up to the actual experience. I’ve never had meat that tasted like butter before… it was insane how good this was (with a pickle on the side for $1.75)

Of course, you have to have a Black Cherry Cott with it.

After a lot more walking, we went for a heavy snack of fries and/or poutine at Frite Alors


Fries with garlic mayonnaise. Good, but I didn’t like how stubby the fries were.
Metro had special poutine

Erm… gross.

To come…

More food, Mount Royal, flowers and butterflies.

HOLY SH*T

Filed under: muse-sick — graigkent @ 12:02 am

Rooms just found me a rip of the Tetrisphere soundtrack… I’ve been looking for this for over 7 years… I’m so happy I could vomit.

27/04/2006

Thank You For Smoking

Filed under: In Theatre — gkentetc @ 6:56 pm

tyfsmoking.jpg

w, d: Jason Reitman

Thank You For Smoking is an effective film that says a lot but only with ironic intentions. Nothing that is said is really meant, and though its message is clear, its method of delivery is complex. The film tackles a number of subjects, most directly is smoking issues, followed by lobbyists, government, journalism, Hollywood and family. Nick Naylor (Aaron Eckhart) is the spin doctor for a “research institute” which is essentially a front for big tobacco to counter or undermine negative press and science. Nick is the best at what he does, able to win people over with not just convincing words, but a genuine smile, and an actual heart beating somewhere beneath. He tells his son that his job is not about being right, but making the other guy appear wrong, and therefore giving the perception of being right.
Nick is the protagonist of the film, it’s hero, but he’s not heroic. He’s despicable, but only because of his job. His life is a little sad, a divorcee whose only friends are the other two members of the M.O.D. Squad (M.O.D. = Merchants of Death) who are mouthpieces for alcohol and firearms. Nick loves his son and wants to spend more time with him, but his ex fears he’s not setting a good example. What we begin to understand is that the lessons Nick is teaching his son are valid, if a little morally ambiguous, just like Nick himself.
As a not-unrealistic whack-job senator makes a fairly ill-educated crusade to ban smoking, Nick is big tobacco’s counter measure. As well regarded as he already was, he’s brought even deeper into the inner circle, meeting “the Captain” (Robert Duvall) who charges him with the task of getting cigarettes more prominently displayed by buying their way into Hollywood films. Meanwhile, Nick begins an affair with a reporter (Katie Holmes) which seems to be genuine but winds up as a tell-all expose that ruins him.

(more…)

Rhinoceros Eyes

Filed under: In Theatre — gkentetc @ 4:45 pm

rhinoeyes.jpg

w, d: Aaron Woodley

Rhinoceros Eyes is a complex film about a simple man named Chep, as played by Michael Pitt. Chep works and lives in the back room of a props warehouse, having arrived there with a load of new acquisitions one day, and never leaving. The warehouse is run by a boorish, cliched Brooklynite-type named Bundy (Matt Servitto). Bundy is bit of a dick on the outside but has a warm heart, and wants to see Chep get out in the world and stop living such an insular life. One night the shop is left in Chep’s hands and he receives a visit from Fran (Paige Turco), a set desiner for a modestly budgeted film. Chep immediately becomes infatuated with her, and infatuation which begins to manifest itself as hallucinations and dream-like states. Chep, with his limited cognizance, has difficulty distinguishing reality from fantasy, and descends down a path of self-deceit and bad deeds in his misplaced love for Fran.
There is much of interest in Rhinoceros Eyes, most of it visual. The story itself is mildly interesting, but exists in an unrelateable surreality of its own design which keeps the audience at a distance from its characters and situations. But the aesthetic of the warehouse itself is highly interesting and appealing… rows, and shelves and buckets of wonder. The set design is vibrant and the colour pallet of the film just pops… definite eye candy. The real achievement is the stop-motion animation that acts as visual accompaniment to the voice in Chep’s head. The stop-motion starts off subtle, but grows and becomes more dominant in the character’s life and the film, as slowly a full figure is assembled from spare parts about the warehouse.
I like the comedic turns in the movie, the side plot with Bundy tracking down the guys in gorilla suits who beat him up at a bar on Hallowe’en acted as a fun distraction to the forestory. As the stop-motion figure becomes more and more menacing in Chep’s life, the film subtly descends into horror, the audience feeling the character’s desperation as he loses his control of reality. But the crux of the film however was the drama that was Chep’s growth as a person, and for some reason I didn’t find it a believable or relateable progression. I like the quirk the film portrayed, things like Chep running around Toronto in a Tor Johnson mask stealing props for Fran were quite amusing in concept, but the quirk also seemed too downplayed, not punctuated enough. Elements of cornball 1940’s romance also played a part, and while it’s also a fun distraction, it can’t repair the flaws in the core story. As I said, it’s a fascinating film, but not a very scintillating story. Certainly worth a look.

adage

Filed under: random, the body human — graigkent @ 4:17 pm

You know that saying “I know [whatever] like the back of my hand”, well, I just noticed scars over both the index and middle knuckle on my left hand. I don’t know how they got there, but they’ve probably been there a while.

Physiquealupdate

On the ride home on Tuesday I noticed that my bike wasn’t perhaps as healthy as I’d led myself to believe. With the strong headwind, I needed to upshift, only to find that I couldn’t, since it sounded like something winging my spokes if I did. I looked down to notice my derailleur poking into the rear wheel, closer and closer to the spokes the higher I shifted. Um. Oh shit. Well, i thought it would be an easy fix, so I took it to the bike shop and they informed me that, unlike most new bikes, the derailleur was mounted to a bit that was mounted to the frame… non replaceable (not with ease anyway). He said “I can try to bend it back, but it’s like a pop can tab, and the more times you bend it back and forth it’s eventually going to break off”. I told him to give it the ol’ College try.
Ten minutes later, he came back. Prognosis was good… all fixed. I paid my $5.75 and was out the door.
Wednesday, I was excessively sore, mostly on the thighs and upper gluts. The soreness only really apeared when I got up from a sitting position or walked up or down stairs. But it didn’t hurt at all biking (again, a strong tail wind to work, a heedy headwind going home)… I did a lot of stretching before I took off for run number two, and even still it was like fire…. it took about five minutes to settle into the pace, but when it was all over 25 minutes larter I was barely noticing any soreness. 20 minutes of stretching segued into a hot epson salt bath, and today I’m feeling barely any discomfort.
My thighs are a bit sore, but everything else just feels powerful. This must be what getting into shape feels like.

26/04/2006

Brick

Filed under: In Theatre — gkentetc @ 5:02 pm

brickint1.jpg

w, d: Rian Johnson

High school is for very few their glory time… most people just struggle to get through the high drama, pubescent awkwardice and social backstabbing. There are those whose highlights in life happen in high school, generally the “popular” crowd of rugged jocks and their bouncy cheerleaders or the fading beauties with ugly insides. These people linger in their past lives and still tell reverential stories of their youth. The rest of us, well, we look to the future, at what else there is to enjoy. The populars lived high school, the rest of us just survived. It’s the cliquedom, the bitternesses and jealousies, the dating/non-dating/pining/angst, the torment and the triumphs that those of us that went through a public school system can relate to. It’s that which make high schools a great setting for fiction… from Grease, to Fast Times, to Mean Girls… there’s different levels of exaggeration, but also a fundamental reality behind it. You can use a high school setting to tell any story, and often it works better than an adult setting because in high school people and characters are expected to grow and learn, which isn’t always true for working world. On TV, the nighttime soap operas like Dynasty have turned teen centric with the OC. The private detective series has become Veronica Mars, and the action series Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Shakespeare has been adapted a number of times to the screen for the teen set, as has Dangerous Liasons (as Cruel Intentions), and now, with Brick, film noir.
Brick, if you really think about it, is absurd because it stays so true to the genre, watching teens fall into the roles of rough and tumble private dick, femme fatale, drug lord and hired goon, and spout Dashiell Hammett-esque dialogue which is hardly native to a teenager’s tongue. But then again, this is specifically why it works so well, because it does stay so true, and at the same time, the film subtly acknowledges its idiosyncratic nature (the drug lord, played by Lukas Haas, operates out of his parents basement, and his mom serves his unusual guests milk and cookies with a smile).
Joseph Gordon-Levitt grew up on television on Third Rock From The Sun, but here he proves that he’s as capable of being an appealing dramatic lead as he is an ensemble player on a comedy show. The kid is talented, and he nails the role. Emulating, but without imitating, the stoic and determined P.I. from noir past, Levitt fits the role of Brendan with his own particular sense of style. There’s a wryness lying beneath his facail expression at all times and also a sense of complete unpredicability. He has heart and know when to show it, when to hide it, and how to make it appear he’s doing either.

(more…)

A big Vader-esque “Noooooooooooo!”

Filed under: Food — graigkent @ 4:22 pm

Eyewitness reports tell me that, apparently, Dipamo’s Barbecue joint, aka GEEKENT’S FAVOURITE RESTAURANT IN TOWN, has closed down. My source tells me there’s “paper on the windows and a bailiff’s notice on the door”. Even their website has shut down.
When I first moved to Toronto, I took my time getting to know the flavour culture of the city. Coming from a fairly whitebread background, I wasn’t used to a lot of exotic herbs, spices, marinades and the like. Hell, I was hardly used to non-exotic versions of each. Anyway, mi amigo GAK took me to a lot of fine establishments to get me comfortable with a variety of local multi-ethnic cuisine, enough to feel safe venturing out on my own. But GAK, who lived up near Spadina/Eglinton, had me most excited about one place in particular…
“It’s a slow-cooked sweet-meat barbecue joint. Old style southern cooking.”
I drooled a little bit at the suggestion. It took a few months for it to open, and when it did, GAK and I established ourselves quickly as regulars there. The meat was always fall apart tender, no matter what you ordered, and their dry spice rub and in house bbq sauce was really what sold the meal. Some of the waitstaff soon knew us by sight and always had a smile for us (and a fudgescicle after our meal), I still have a few packets of toothpicks kicking around the Ronces, and my memories will always be fond.
GAK, moved away to New York in 2002, but we’d always make a visit to Di P’s (as we’d call it) whenever he returned. We even coerced GAK’s brother to have his bachelor party meal there… I’d taken my sister and her bf there many times, my parents, and hell, anyone that would go with me. Metro and I celebrated our new roommatedom there, like real me should.
Dipamos, you will be greatly missed by me and my meat-lovin’ friends.
Sigh. I guess Phil’s Original is my new best friend now.

25/04/2006

Frazzles, the channel 101 squirrell

Filed under: blogwatch, brainfreeze — graigkent @ 9:56 am

I’m almost hesitant to write about this, because my mother worries enough about me biking on the mean streets of Toronto as is, and I know I’m going to be hearing about this for a while… but… in the interests of sharing for the good of the people, I had my first major spill today. No blood, no bruises, no broken bones… just a lot of anger and a little lack of common sense.
I had a lovely strong tail wind this morning which would have pushed me along at a good clip had I not had to have stopped for every light along the way… stop/starting is one of the only things I really don’t like about my ride to work. Well, that and sometimes actually having to expend the energy. If you’ve biked Dundas West, then you know that it’s two lanes of become basically one after 9am, as the right lane is for parked cars. Usually my biggest danger is door prizes, but I’m always careful and always aware. Stopped at the lights at Dufferin, I was controlling my lane and I was the only vehicle in it. To my left was a white Pathfinder SUV, who gunned it when the lights went green. I was shoulder checking as I started to build up speed, looking ahead to the parked cars just past the immediate side street, when the Pathfinder suddenly veers in front of me and puts on his signal. I had little room to maneouver and barely any room to stop.
I hit the brakes.
I felt the back end of my bike lift.
I let go of everything.
I was in the air.
I watch my bike continue without me.
I believe I did a full 360 degree rotation, landing on my ass and palms.
I got up immediately, checked myself for injuries or sore spots, and then picked up my bike, looking for damage. The front brake had come unhinged but was an easy fix.
The Pathfinder backed up (almost running into me) and I walk around him. “WHAT THE FUCK!” I yell at him.
A cyclist who I had passed earlier was on the sidewalk, and he asked me if I was okay?
“I think so… nothing hurts.”
“How’s your bike”
“Seems fine. Brake’s unhinged but an easy fix.”
And then I turn to the guy in the pathfinder. He had pulled into the side street and had his door open. He didn’t step out.
“You okay?”
“FUCKING HELL!” I said. “If you’re going to turn, try putting on your signal to alert someone.”
“I was waiting for you to pass” he said.
“But you didn’t fucking wait. You cut me off”
I was so frazzled, and so angry I didn’t even want to look at him.
A lady came running out from the storefront. She asked first if I was okay and then if I got the guy’s license plate so if I wanted to report him. To be honest, I heard her words, but in my ire I couldn’t really respond. I was seething, and trying to hinge my front brake together again and see if anything else was wrecked.
The lady kept talking, saying how I should really get his plate, time, location, etc. The other cyclist said, “Dude, I saw it. He really cut you off.”
Eventually it sunk in. “Yeah…yeah. I should”
“Do you have pen and paper?” the lady asked.
“Yeah,” and I flipped my bag open, grabbing my pad and pen. I looked down the side street and I guess the guy was watching what we were doing, and as soon as he saw me open my bag, he turned down the back alley and jetted. The other cyclist took off after him, but returned soon and said “he’s gone”.
And that was basically it. I talked with the other guy about my bike for a few seconds, and he asked again if everything was okay. “Got to get back on the horse,” I said. He laughed and bade me good journey. I settled into the tailwind and managed to only hit one red along the way.
Lesson learned though. If you see an accident, don’t wait for the victim to take down the license plate of the offending vehicle. I got out of this one okay, but if I was laying there on the road, incapacitated, how would I be able to take down the driver’s info? Anyway, not a big deal. I imagine that asswipe had a pretty good scare… and apparently the spill looked really fucking cool. It actually felt pretty neat too.
I’m thankful for my gloves, helmet and my cycling bag as all three were likely what kept me injury free. I’m a little sore, but it’s in the same places I was sore when I woke up from my jog yesterday.
And mom, don’t worry.

tv me

Got a note in my email saying someone saw me on breakfast television today.
Apparently Maria’s blog was featured this morning, and right now there’s a really goofy picture of me and Eva (well, I’m goofy, not Eva) taken last Friday at the Duke of York where we met Maria’s friend Daniella who will be moving here from Mexico City this summer.
Twisty-mouth Graig sez, “Congrats on the exposure Maria…”

You’re fit, but my god, don’t you know it

Filed under: me me me — graigkent @ 2:24 am

Somehow I got it in my head that I need to be more physically active. Sure I tend to bike to work and bike around town for transportation as soon as the weather is good, and it’s quite enough exercise for one person for one day I would think, alas, my brain seems to think more would be better.
Back when I was dogsitting in Barrie I took up the habit of running track in my sister’s virtually empty basement (and by empty I mean devoid of walls). The stairwell runs down the middle of the room, so it makes running laps around it kind of interesting (I guess). I’d do 50 laps each way, sometimes with the dog chasing me, or vice versa (he usually got bored after 20 or so and would return for the last 10… dogs, they ain’t as stupid as we think)… all told about 20 or 25 minutes of exercise. (Hey, I was in Barrie in the midst of blizzard season with little outside contact or anything to do aside from dial into work, watch Olympics, eat and booze up, cut a boy some slack). Anyway, since then I’ve been wondering what I’d need to do to actually transpose that entusiasm for running around in circles into an environment that had, well, actually enviornment. To be honest, I didn’t really wonder all that hard. I’m notoriously prone to leaving whims unfulfilled.
Well, a little proactivity is all one needs sometimes (well, that and about $400 bucks). We had a “Wellness Day” at work last week, which I didn’t really pay all that much attention to, so I can’t explain what went on beyond free smoothies at the cafe or an abundance of brochures stacked on tables in front of a group of very bored people. But I did partake in one session, which was an “Intro to running and walking” held by Vince, the manager from the Running Room’s Commerce Court location. The man was full of very basic primer information on how to get oneself into running (chiefly, get a good pair of shoes, everything else is just frivolities). Setting a routine and sticking with it, stretching or not stretching, longer runs vs. shorter runs, avoiding injuries… he covered a lot of ground, and to his credit, there wasn’t an overt sales pitch throughout the 60 minutes. That there sold me on his store… plus the fact that he told me to go buy a box of Vector cereal for a “20% off everything in the store” cupon. Gotta love guys like that.
The next day I did go to his store location, spent a good hour to an hour and a half with Vince finding the perfect shoes for my feet (and honestly I havn’t bought a pair of running shoes/sports sneakers in at least half a decade), and picking up some of those frivolities he mentioned (a good pair of shorts and a t-shirt). Unfortunately, my plan to start running on the weekend was rudely interrupted by rain (how dare it), but a wonderful break in the clouds around 6:00 today told me “Now’s your time”… well, actually that was me telling me that…
So I went for my first run, which really, if we’re being totally honest with ourselves here, is actually a jog. Running would intone moving at an excessively fast pace on my legs with the intention of escaping something or rapidly moving towards something. Jogging, well, that’s just an aimless mid-paced alternately lifiting of the legs. I did some of that, and will, every second day, continue to do so for about 25 to 30 minutes. I’ve stretched out, and I feel the good burn above my knees and at the insides of my thighs. I feel fit. Almost.
And the real reason why I’m doing it? It’s not for the exercise. It’s for the music… gives me the chance to listen and concentrate on new music without destraction… aside from people, dogs, cars, ground hazards and the like. But I’m doing it for the music.
And the girls.

24/04/2006

Daily Gorman

Filed under: random — graigkent @ 11:08 pm

One of my favourite Britons, Dave Gorman (he of “Who Is Dave Gorman” and “Dave Gorman’s Googlewhack Adventure” fame) will be on the Daily Show tonight in some capacity. Here is what Mr. Gorman has to say about the occasion:

Basically amongst the reasons I came to New York was to meet up with some people from the Daily Show to discuss some ideas for the future. Now, I love The Daily Show. It’s one of my favourite TV shows in the world. In fact, because it’s American, I’ll even say that it’s one of my favorite TV shows in the world.

What I wasn’t expecting was to end up appearing on tonight’s The Daily Show. Which is what ended up happening. So… if you’re in the US of A and it’s still Monday when you’re reading this, I’m in a small segment of tonight’s show.

Good on ya Dave-o

102 must-see movies

a list from Jim Emerson
(click for list) I hit a big 40%

(more…)

23/04/2006

Taxes

Filed under: me me me — graigkent @ 7:19 pm

They be good to me this year
*devilish grin*

for Joany, as point of reference:

Filed under: geek — graigkent @ 12:29 am

Joan, this is Blue Beetle
bluebeetle.jpg
…shouldn’t look like this though.
I don’t see the sack of rats/bag of mice, thank god… I imagine separate briefs would help control the problem…
What did Cap do about boots for GL?

22/04/2006

Short Rounds vol.3

Filed under: DeeVee — gkentetc @ 5:01 pm

MiracleMile.jpg

Miracle Mile

written and directed by Steve De Jarnatt. It starts off as a rather blahzĂ© pseudo romantic dramedy with undercurrents of annoying jazz and tacky 80’sisms. Anthony Edwards cruises a museum, catching the eye of Mare Winningham. They quickly establish a connection and suddenly it’s time for a montage of them playfully swinging Los Angeles. They arrange to meet up after Mare gets off her midnight shift at the all-night diner she works at. Anthony goes back to his hotel or apartment or whatever (I never did catch exactly whether he lived in LA or was there on business or something) and through a freak sequence of events the power in the building conks out and he wakes up at 3am, making it to the diner four hours late. He tries to call his new love interest from the paybox outside the diner but so sad and depressed she took her meds and isn’t waking up for the end of the world. While mulling about outside the diner, the pay box rings and Anthony picks it up. Frantic on the other end is a guy who works at a missile sile trying to reach his father saying, more or less, that the US has launched nukes and the Russians are retaliating. The question is, was it real or is it a hoax?
The film really begins there. Edwards is lost, unsure if he believes what he heard. His suspicions are confirmed (though not definitively, but enough to believe them) and from the moment of the phone call the movie operates in “real time”. Despite the trite opening, it’s actually quite brilliantly paced from thereon in, watching as word spreads of the impending doom in the wee hours of the morning, following Edwards as he races to rescue his love, and the futile effort to try and escape. The city begins to escalate into madness as each second wares on, and the ending is as bleak and inevitable as its set-up presumes. Completely filled with an 80’s aesthetic, it can be a little rough to watch at times, and the Tangerine Dream synth score only further dates it, but it stands as a capsule of the era in which it was made, when children would see mushroom clouds on the cover of newspapers and worry about not waking up in the morning.
-3.5/5-
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Stray Dog

written (with Ryuzo Kikushima) and directed by Akira Kurosawa. Ah, Kurosawa is a brilliant filmmaker. He’s probably best described as the Hitchcock of the East… just a completely and utterly capable director, a clever writer, and a capability for storytelling that is his own. But man, Stray Dog is boring… some might call it methodical, me I think it’s about 30 minutes too long. Kurosawa favourite Toshiro Mifune stars as a rookie detective who gets his gun lifted on public transporation. So ashamed he hands in his resignation… his superior officer tells him to grow a backbone. Mifune sets out on the trail to find his gun, making some progress and gaining confidence only to be deflated as his gun is progressively used in more and more serious crimes. The focal point of the film is the character’s guilt about having his gun used for evil purposes, but it’s just a conceit I can’t buy. Even one character explains how guns are stolen every day and how he should just get over it… but he can’t. As a protagonist he’s weak, and I don’t mean just flawed. He’s weak to the point of being unsympathetic, and the path he takes to retrieve his gun gives him little to progress with as a character. He’s even rewarded at the end of the film, when really he should have been dismissed from his position. Kurosawa doesn’t manage to keep much suspence or drama retained outside of the last 20 minutes, and even then it’s not nearly as exciting or clever as it could have been in, say, Hitchcock’s hands. Trimmed down by 40 minutes it could be taut suspense but it really falls flat as a character drama.
-1/5-
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Immortal (ad vitam)

written (with Serge Lehman) and directed by Enki Bilal. This one was a creeper. I hated it as the opening minutes rolled on, but after the first hour I found myself incredibly wrapped up in the strange future world it presented, the oddball characters that populated it, and the absolutely bizarre special effects that were used. An almost completely digital film, it mixes and matches human actors with, honestly, quite poorly rendered animated character. At the same time however, the futuristic New York that the filmmakers created looks utterly stunning, and the hybrid human/animated characters mesh and gel quite well with their city. The film is a puzzle of characters whose purpose or motivations you’re never quite sure of, while at the same time the underlying story doesn’t really reveal itself until late in the film as the various curious aspects and random sidetracking characters begin to swirl together. It has a completely European comic/Heavy Metal feel to it, a deliberately restrained pace, just oozing mood from it’s undersaturated hues. Though it cops (heavily) elements from the Matrix, X-Men, and Blade Runner, a grand imagination backs it up, even if it feels a little random at time, and even the crappy effects don’t seem so bad by the end (why they couldn’t use humans for all characters I don’t know). The lead actors Linda Hardy and Thomas Kretschmann are fabulous in their roles, with Hardy playing a beautiful but troubled mutant, while Kretschmann is an escaped convict who she both loves her and despises as he’s used as a vessel of rape by an Egyptian God seeking eternal life. Not easy-to-consume fare, but rewarding, however people who like their effects flashy and with spit and polish are only going to be annoyed.
-3/5-
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Rope

written by Arthur Laurents, directed by Alfred Hitchcock. A recent fascination with the “real time” effect in movies led me to this less notorious film in the Hitch’s oeuvre, a taught suspense drama with a morbid and fascinating heart. Two college school chums (with subtle homosexual underpinnings) decide, as experiment, to murder one of their class mates, stuff him in a trunk, and then hold a party in the very same room with the dead boy’s friends and family in attendance. John Dall and Farley Granger play the murderers Brandon and Philip. Brandon is the dominant member, confident and feeling the euphoric rush of both his deed and the potential for getting caught. Philip is, in essence, a patsy… someone weak and nervous whom Brandon could sucker into experiencing it all with him, and perhaps validate his ruthlessness or offload his guilt. One of the attendees is a favoured teacher of theirs, Rupert (James Stewart) one whose philosophical teachings were inspiration for Brandon’s cold plot. In inviting Rupert, a very cunning and wry man, Brandon suspects the possibility he will figure them out, and is in fact hoping for it, in anticipation of both praise and approval.
The suspense of the film lies in whether anyone will figure out the plot, and whether the boys’ own neuroses will be their own betrayal… but even greater suspence was removed by the fact that we were explicitely shown the murder and disposal of the body in the opening stages of the film. By far the movie would have played out even more intensely if the audience were unsure if the body were actually in the trunk or not.
With this film, the Hitch attempts (perhaps for the first time) to direct with one continuous shot. The limitations of film at the time meant there could only be a maximum of about a dozen minutes per reel, and so panning in and out of dark spaces was needed to transition between reels but is done well enough to seem a single continuous shot (for the era, anyway, however I did notice one explicit edit about halfway through).
The acting is solid, if a little obvious at times from Dall and Granger, and Stewart doesn’t seem to understand his role as mentor, and likely, lover to the young boys. He plays it fairly generic and sexless, which makes Rupert just a little less interesting.
Technically it’s wonderful, and storywise it’s fantastic with but a few failings in the execution on the part of both the directors and actors. Completely worth viewing.
-4/5-
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Howl’s Moving Castle

written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki. Yes, yes, and a thousand times yes. This is storytelling and filmmaking at its absolute peak, using every resource to its maximum potential. In this instance it’s animation, a field which has no boundaries and no limits to what it can convey. Miyazaki is a master of the medium and his Studio Ghibli the perfect back-up band. With Howl’s Moving Castle, Miyazaki adapts fantasy author Diana Wynn Jones’ novel () into a film that just exhudes awe, wonder and imagination. Sophie is the hero of the movie, a young, insecure woman who finds herself smitten by a young magician, but soon cursed into appearing as an old lady. Confused she flees from home in search of a reversal spell, soon coming across the moving castle. Inside she meets Calcifer, the fire demon that fuels and navigates the building, and Markl, a young magician’s apprentice. Their master would be Howl, a young but powerful wizard, with a darkness inside that threatens to take control, while at the same time the two warring factions of the land demand his involvement in their battle. Sophie, having been smitten by Howl before her transformation, finds refuge in his home and cares for him and his household as deeply as anything else. Howl shows her both the wonders and the horrors of the worlds of magic and men, and his ever-growing list of enemies accumulate and continually threaten them all.
Vivid, imaginative, and utterly engrossing, “Howl’s Moving Castle” is filled with curious and mysterious characters, a tragectory and pacing that defies conventions, and is so visually creative that there’s bound to be dozens of things you’ve never seen before. The American voice work for the film features a few recognizable voices such as Christian Bale and Billy Crystal, however, the majority of the cast are solid character and vocal actors lending a comfort and naturalness to the film.
-5/5-
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Mémoires affectives (Looking for Alexandre)

written (with Marcel Beaulieu ) and directed by Francis Leclerc. I’m not sure what it is that makes this film so much better than, say, Possible Worlds (which I reviewed back in Short Rounds vol.1) as they both seem to elicit a similar sense of moodiness, with sparse scoring, and lot of mental manipulation via story elements and visual/audio tinkering. Both also feature a fairly similar visual pallette, grey and blue hues saturating the screen, with more sepiatones during flashback moments. Perhaps it just comes down to the acting. MĂ©moires affectives (I like the French title so much better than the lame English one) stars one of Canada’s more prominent actors, Roy Dupuis, as Alexandre, a veterinarian who wakes up an amnesiac after many months in a coma. His family return to his side, if briefly, and the police attempt to determine, through his spotty memory, the perpetrator in his hit-and-run accident. Though the core of the film is a man figuring out his past through pieces of spotty memory, there’s also the added element of mystery… flashbacks which haunt him, dreams in which he sees himself from the outside, moments where characters fill in the blanks and in the same breath reverse their statements, and waking dreams in which Alex speaks in a Native tongue that should be foreign to him. Throught these techniques the film plays out like a puzzle, “Memento” style with a bit of the madness of “Insomnia”.
It’s a curious story crafted by a very capable production team and a talented cast. The primary failure of the film is not clearly resolving the initial mystery… by the end we understand the character and his psychoses, but we’re not quite sure why or how he fell into his coma (was it the childhood trauma rearing its head while euthanizing the deer or was he actually hit by an 18 wheeler? *shrug*)
4/5
last-goodbye.jpg

Last Goodbye

written and directed by Jacob Gentry. Based on the novel by Patrick Kaye. A brooding little indie film that starts off hokish and perhaps a little too self aware, but quickly settles into a nice mood and pace which resonantes through to its finale. Using an non-linear narrative, the Last Goodbye follows the interweaving stories of four characters as their lives slowly come undone. Though few of the actors in the film are recognizable (Faye Dunaway and David Carradine put in special appearances), solid performances abound throughout (Alex Quinn as the rock star was really the only stiff one amongst them). Gentry’s direction is surprisingly adept, with some beautful camerawork, and a the film succeeds most thanks to an expert edit. If anything didn’t work for the film it was some of the dialogue, as the film attempted to be as natural as possible, but some of the lines probably only worked on the written page. Although it’s hardly groundbreaking, Last Goodbye is an exceptionally well put together indie film that successfully tries a few new things a lesser director couldn’t pull off. Add it to your “to see” list, somewhere in the middle.
-3.5/5-
chud.jpg

C.H.U.D.

written by Shepard Abbott, and Parnell Hall, directed by Douglas Cheek. Since I’ve been working for CHUD.com for well over a year now, I figured I should finally get around to watching the mid-80’s cult creature feature it takes its name after. I don’t have a lot of fond memories of 1980’s genre cinema, but there’s something to be said about horror and sci-fi and speculative drama from the era… they were certainly unafraid of any idea and embarassment, indeed, was counterproductive. Costuming, rubber suites, faux-technology, special effects, make-up… none of it was exactly revolutionary, but pushing the envelope of what could be done with it (or rather, what the audience would except) was the rule of the day. C.H.U.D., oddly enough, has itself a bit of a political message behind the idea of sewer-living, people-eating mutants… it’s a damning of America’s (or at the very least New York’s) treatment of the homeless, as well as attempting to stick it to secretive government and bad-enviro business practices. Sure it’s all hinged around goofy glowing, bug-eyed rubbersuits, but it’s more effort than most films put during that time. Stars John Heard, Daniel Stern, Christopher Curry and Kim Griest each bring craft and an enthusiasm to the film which says they might be in it for more than a paycheque. Though past the halfway point it descends into kind of token 80’s creature chases and explosions, the first half is sharp and engaging enough to make up for it. Fun in a guilty pleasure kind of way.
-2.5/5-
mytrn.jpg

Mystery Train

written and directed by Jim Jarmusch. A trio of tales taking place in Memphis, centered around a run-down hotel, this is another in Jarmusch’s style of sedate filmmaking. The first and most engaging tale sees a young Japanese couple hit the town to see Graceland, although the boy of the duo is more into Carl Perkins. The second story finds an Italian woman stranded in town until morning, sharing a room with a scatterbrained, down-on-her-luck American. Three imbecilic friends populate the third story, getting drunk, robbing a liquor store and sleeping it off at the hotel, tensions running high the whole time. Each story has its mildly amusing bits, however, the film seems to be a love letter to Memphis without truly focussing on the city itself. As with all of Jarmusch’s films, there is a sense of curiousity, depth and humour underneath that continues to reveal itself upon repeated watchings, it’s getting past that first viewing that is the difficulty.
-2/5-

20/04/2006

Viva le Quebec: Montreal pt.2

Filed under: Travel — graigkent @ 9:52 pm

Hmm… don’t remember where I left off.
Let’s start here:

Monday: Day 2 screw you

I’m not sure I anticipated how much walking we were actually going to be doing on this trip. Oh, I knew we’d roam around the city, but I really didn’t think too much about it. As it turns out, by all approximations, we pedestrianed (new word!) our way around Montreal about 7 or 8 hours (easy) every day. I was beginning to wonder if I had brought the wrong shoes to wear as my feet were sore every evening… but you know what, no matter how bloody good your shoes are if you spend 8 non-continuous hours of movement on them your feet are going to be sore. The lucky thing was they were never sore in the morning, although they did get sore a little faster with each continuing day.
Look, feet and the Metro station floor:

We actually didn’t hit the Metro until Tuesday, if I recall correctly…

Before I continue with Day 2 (he said realizing he hadn’t even started on Day 2 yet)… let’s talk about the Metro

Montreal has a fabulous subway system, but we’re not allowed to call it “the subway” because it is, in fact, “le Metro”. I love le Metro. It makes me realize how bloody inept our own Toronto underground transport system is in comparison. It’s spread across the city better with a nice criss-crossing pattern to the lines, and it has good commuter dropoff/pickup points.
Other things I noticed were le Metro did not run on rails, but rather the “train” was on giant rubber wheels with stabilizing wheels on the side to keep it in place. Makes for a very bouncy but smooth ride. Stops a lot nicer than metal on metal anyway.
Some of the train cars are pretty noisy, considering the connecting doors between cars in many cases are grated, rather than safetyglassed in. Each car had five doors for entry, which certainly made getting off an on a lot easier than Toronto’s 3 door system, but also makes for less seating inside. We were never on the thing at peak hours, but overall it didn’t seem to be as busy as Toronto’s transit system. The stations are, generally, a lot nicer to be in, their turstiles accept their paper tickets (WOW! Neat!) and it’s a tad cheaper than what we got here. Some stations even have a countdown timer to the next train. Crazytown! That’s awesome.

The other thing about the Metro is we call Jeremy that for short (well, rather than calling him by his handle “Metrogeek”). As such, we found it fun to take pictures of him by “le Metro” signs with the “Metro arrow” pointing to him.
This is my favourite.. so superheroic:

While this, well, is less superheroic (as Metro uses the “Halte Metro”… a resting bar for the handicapable or just lazy…he was posing, I should clarify, and not really out of breath)

(The sign reads: “Cette barre d’appui est mise Ă  la disposition de la clientèle a mobilitĂ© rĂ©duite pour lui permettre de se repose un moment.” Which means to the effect of “this bar is meant to allow mobility challenged clientele to rest for a moment”)

Day 2… part 2

We wandered around downtown Montreal. Our inner geeks took us into shopping centers, as well as a much realized need and desire for flip flops. We all had to have flip flops (for communal showering purposes… no… not communal… shared showering… what I mean is we all used the same shower… erm… we all took a shower in the same space as the other hostel patrons… sigh… but not at the same time … phew).
I managed to find “Robot Chicken” in copious supply at Istanbul … erm… Archambault (I kept on thinking “not Constantinopal. Why’d they change it, I can’t say, maybe they like it better that way?”)… it only took me going to a complete other province! We also found cute little critters Plush Microbes, on sale for about $2.50. I got Yeast for my gluten free sister, while Toast got a sore throat and Linda got athlete’s foot (to which the unathletic says “that ain’t my foot!”).
We let Linda loose on the town with her mother, and we went off madly in many directions to comic book stores (most of Montreal’s comic book shoppes are utter bollocks, but there was that one which I’ll need Toast to remind me of which had a great indie selection, a good stock of recent titles and a fine selection of European books… if I lived there I’d only go to him… he was also very nice), before winding up at the forum… once home of the Montreal Canadiens, now a desolate shopping-mall-esque place with an AMC theatre, a Future Shop, and a couple eating/coffee establishments and a few boutiques. They also have maintained a section of bleachers as a rest area/hangout spot, and a statue of the Rocket Richard (who’s biographical movie comes out this week) watches over a mock “centre ice” from the bench.

Across the way is a multi-leveled shopping mall which, I’m guessing, used to be the forum’s parking garage (I’m just making shit up now). It had a Zellers and Shoppers Drug Mart (Pharmaprix?) and was really a shopping mall proper, but really much more unique structurally than most indoor by-the-numbers consumables market.

Day 2 eating

We had a snack-lunch in the Fauxborg (which isn’t spelled that way but I spell it that way because I kept making lame jokes like “You will be assimilated…maybe… I dunno… we’re not really Borg”) which wasn’t documentation worthy. There’s a couple bakeries, a bagel shop and an assortment of non or barely franchise establishments in the food court like place that backs onto one of the city’s University campuses (I’m surprised at how little information and trivia I retain in my brain sometimes).
Dinner was a bit of a challenge, as Monday nights in Montreal are typically “chef’s night off”. We roamed around touristey Old Montreal hoping that there we could at least find a decent establishment that wouldn’t kill the budget… and we almost gave up until we found one of Montreal’s more interesting franchises, PizzĂ©delic. It’s an Italian-esque/Pizza joint with a really creative and diverse menu which made for a tough decision… however we were told that the kitchen would close in 15 minutes after we arrived, so our hands were forced. I don’t ever really remember what topped my pizza anymore (pancetta and basil perhaps?) but my spinach salad with walnuts, tangerine, and a creamy sauce of some kind was amazing. I had a bottle of Boris vodka/soda/ginger to drink:



Bloodrayne

Yes. We went to a movie. It was before dinner. We saw Uwe Boll’s cinematic interpretation of the jiggly vampire killer video game Bloodrayne. It was bad. Toast has an unusual fascination with the worst director on the planet and he paid for us all to go see it. I’m still not sure if was worth it. See sidebar for full(er) review

Still to come

more food… the mountain… flowers and butterflies

19/04/2006

Cycletube

Filed under: random — graigkent @ 10:16 pm

I say both “Oh hells yes” and “Not a chance in hell” to this wonderful idea of the Velo-city, a raised, contained bike path for all-season biking around Toronto. I love it. It’s brilliant. And there’s no hope in hell of taxpayers actually saying “yes, let’s spend my tax dollars on that… I’d rather have a parade!”

The Real World: Montreal

Filed under: Travel — graigkent @ 4:06 pm

This is the true story, of five friends who decided to live in a hostel, travel together and have their lives photoblogged to find out what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real. The Real World - Montreal.

Backstory

In the midst of the mid-March duldrums, Linda, the newest member of our little club of jackassery made mention that she wanted to do an eating tour of Montreal, but her friend had bailed on her. I said I’d be interested in going, which turned into a show of hands, and suddently we were planning a road trip. Linda, Marmy, Toast, Metro and myself began corresponding via email with details of the arrangements, with the hostel booking, retal car and vacation days all falling into place like Tetris blocks.

Folley no.1

The days seemed to fly by quickly, and then it was upon us. April 8, rental pickup day. Metro had booked the van (roomy for 5), but unfortunately he misread the times that the rental place was open so we showed up at Enterprise about 90 minutes after it closed (who closes shop at noon? Seriously…). Captains Picard and Kirk would be very disappointed (get it? Enterprise…haha. Hmph.)

So there we are, standing outside a locked rental place, staring at the rental van and no idea what to do. Metro takes my cel phone for a run and makes a bunch of calls to various 800 numbers (I hope they were 800 numbers!) trying to reach a live person. Eventually he’s connected and we have the rental booking transferred over to bloody Scarborough (the van mystically became a much more compact Ford Taurus). 2 hours of public transportation later and we were rollin’, with a quick detour getting lost trying to find Johnny’s Burger shack. Mt. Pleasant and Sheppard… I think.

Day 1: Road Trip…WOOOO!

Metro and I cross the Temple of Doom to the car bright and early Sunday morning. Metro’s on first duties as driver and I’m still just plenty sleepy. I spout out “road trip” in a half-mumble, and Metro gives me his best Rick Flair impersonation which was way too loud for that hour. “Road Trip… WOOOO!” became one of many mantras for the week. It also became our “Marco Polo” call and response when we would get lost in shopping centers or on mountaintops. After picking up Linda, Marmy and Toast, a pit stop at Timmys (it’s not a Road Trip WOOO without a stop at Timmy’s) and we were gone like lighting (by lightning I mean 4 very tired people and one hyperenergetic person cramped into a car with too much luggage in the trunk thus spilling over into the back seat).

Objective number 1: the big Apple

Look, it’s the Big Apple! And a moose!

If you’re going east on the 401, you’ll come past this place, which is primarily known as “the Big Apple”. It’s one of those roadside attractions that’s either something you’re genuinely into, because you’re lame, or it’s something very kitschy and worth making fun of. But then, they make pie, and pie shouldn’t be laughed at. There’s also a gift shop with standard touristy kitsch, and outside some amusements (mini-putt, go kart-type things), as well as llamas, ducks and wild rabbits. This is where we actually met our sidekick/mascot Harvey, the Mini-Moose, but we like to say “he’s been with us the whooole time” (because it makes us giggle).
A quick stop in Kingston for brunch and we were on our way again. Montreal seemed to creep up on us in no time (”no time” in this instance being a 7.5 hour road trip - woooo!). We arrived at the hostel situated in the thick of Old Montreal, where the pretty lady checked us in and helped us find a parking garage to offload the rental for the week, and then we roamed around Montreal’s Chinatown (which might be better dubbed South Asiatown, since it was proliferated by Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean, Thai and other non-Chinese-variety Asian restaurants (much like Toronto’s own Chinatown where I work)

The First Resto

Inspired by Linda’s fascination with LL Cool J, we went back to “Cali” for some pho. The waiter warned me against getting a roll that involved pig skin and instead recommended me a salad roll of some type, with shrimps and peanut sauce. I had a hot bowl of soup and a delicious sugar/lemon/soda beverage concoction… I have to say though, that Montreal pho wasn’t *that* much different than the Toronto pho I’ve had.

From there we wandered a bit more around downtown, looking in the closed shop windows, getting propositioned by the “gentlemens club” maitre d’ and looking for a good joint to stop for booze at, finding a local microbrewery/restaurant, Les 3 Brasseurs. Toast and Metro both sampled the Trio’s wares with a quartet of snipters. Since I’m not much for the ale, I instead tried their flamme, which they implore isn’t anything like a dessert pizza. They brought out the dessert, which is a crust topped with sliced apples (or bananas) and brown sugar, slightly toasted. Then they pour over a shot of cognac and light that b*tch on fire. It wasn’t really all that great, mainly because the cognac was so strong, but I’m sure if they had that vanilla bean ice cream on top (they were out of ice cream that evening) it would have been delicious.

Hostel life

It was definitely going to be an interesting experiment to see how five people could get along sharing a common sleeping space for five days… but to be honest, it was like having a slumber party. Yeah, we’re old, we get that, but toss us into a room and make us sleep in sleeping bags on bunk beds and I’m sure we all felt how silly it was. Most evening we would have more than a fair share of giggles before we fell asleep. Getting adjusted to everyone’s sleeping habits (snoring, mumbling, and sleep apnea amongst other things) was a challenge the first night, (and for some, other nights as well), but overall, I think wandering around town for at least 7 hours a day every day was enough to wholly exhaust us an not really mind the noises of others.
The hostel itself was fairly cool, clean and staffed by friendly people. One night we were entertained by a musician playing some lovely Spanish tunes (in French, mind you) and he was joined on vocals by a guy who liked his beers in really frickin’ huge cans. We didn’t really interact with the other guests all that much - a few smiles or pleasant “bonjours” - but then we sort of had our own plan of attack… although I’m sure I could have made some time to chat up the pretty ladies if I really wanted to… Ah… pretty ladies. *sigh*.
more to come.

18/04/2006

Thorazine 2

Filed under: Sequential Art — gkentetc @ 9:12 pm

This week’s Thor:
I tackle the second poltically incorrect and hilarious volume of collected Arsenic Lullaby. The other boys review some other stuff (and lots of it).
Last week’s Thor:
Since I was off in Montreal on deadline day, I only dropped in two tiny reviews for Annihilation: Silver Surfer#1 and the Dark Horse series ArchEnemies #1. The other boys did just fine without me… a little too fine, methinks.

17/04/2006

Nerd… no. Dork… no. Geek… why yes, yes I am.

Filed under: me me me — graigkent @ 9:26 pm

Now am I supposed to be the cute girl or the Stormtrooper?
via the redhead

Pure Geek
39 % Nerd, 56% Geek, 34% Dork
For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Geek, earning you the title of: Pure Geek.

It’s not that you’re a school junkie, like the nerd, and you don’t
really stand out in a crowd, like the dork, you just have some
interests that aren’t quite mainstream. Perhaps it’s anime, perhaps
it’s computers, perhaps it’s bottlecaps, perhaps it’s all of those and
more. Your interests take you to events and gatherings that are filled
with people you find unusual and beyond-the-pale, but you don’t quite
consider yourself “of that crowd.” Instead, you consider yourself to be
fairly normal.

Which, you are.

Congratulations! You’re the one on the RIGHT!

Thanks Again! — THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST


My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
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You scored higher than 17% on nerdiness
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You scored higher than 81% on geekosity
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You scored higher than 59% on dork points

Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the 32-Type Dating Test
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