Sean Twist

Emily On A Monday

2009-07-13T18:45:00.000-07:00

The song on the album has a beautiful New Wave, heard-on-a-snowy-February-night feel to it, but this live version isn't bad, either. And I love Emily. Like, lots.

I Must Hate Myself. I'm Watching Big Brother

2009-07-12T16:15:00.001-07:00

As a pop culture maven, I try not to turn up my aesthetic nose at anything people seem to enjoy until I myself have experienced it. This has led me to actually pay money to see the WWF, join Jim Dandy watching UFC, and have sat down and listened to My Chemical Romance. And so, due to pressure from friends combined with a deep seated self hatred, I went online and watched the first episode of Big Brother 11.

To say I hated most people on the show within seconds of seeing them is possibly the truest sentence you'll read all week. In terms of purity, that sentence alone could probably turn an entire army of determined undead.

Of all the contestants, only Ronnie was the only one I probably would not garrote in his sleep. (But even that assertion is flimsy, since he seemed far too excited about playing his Wii, and he did describe himself as a 'gamer'. Which is something you do not do.) The majority seem to have been pulled from a bubbling vat of noxious clone material--the Surfer Dude seems indistinguishable from the FootBall Playing Dude, the Southern Belle seems a blonde variant of the brunette Woman With Big Boobs, and the MMA Fighter guy looks like every other shaved head muscle bound moron with Celtic tattoos you see grunting and howling at the gym. Of the rest, those who shine by pale reflection with some originality just come across as douchebags.

We have the 40 year old teacher who 'spends his nights DJing, continually comments about his age, and finally damns himself by wearing a scenester hat. There is the PhD who is ashamed of her degree and pretends to be stupider than she is. The token gay person, who simply has to wear a scarf and comment on aforementioned Woman With Big Boobs...uh.. boobs. The fact that people can be gay and not act like they're about to launch into a Broadway tune is blasphemy in TVLand, apparently. And finally, we have the tae kwon do champion who is actually attractive. Attractive when she isn't lying and belittling others, which, come to think of it, cancels out her beauty with the algebra of douchery.

But I will watch all of it. So if I hate, I have the right.

Gene Hunt Will Kick Your Ass And Call You Nancy

2009-07-07T18:28:00.000-07:00

So man up, lads! Put down those stupid computer games and grab a pint and a bird! Get in there, my son!

And Then The Place Exploded...

2009-07-05T16:24:00.001-07:00

Here's a lesson every Dungeon Master should learn. You know those long, epic adventures you always want to run? The ones with things like character development, recurring villains, a winding and convoluted storyline that ends with a cathartic pay-off?

They don't work. The only way they can work is if you play each and every week. Which is possible only for the very young or the very socially challenged. When I noticed my players becoming confused at the last session, not remembering exactly why they were deep in the Mines of Chaos, and wondering what it is they were supposed to do, I knew that I had run my last EPIC STORY!!

So today, I gave them what they wanted. I blew up the Mines of Chaos, with them in it. Turns out someone had kept an ancient blue dragon deep within the joint, and it got pissed. Half an hour of my players racing out of the Mines, with debris falling on them, being attacked by panicking hobgoblins, the floor itself splitting beneath them. Finally, they plumetted out into a dark, midnight valley just as the aforementioned blue dragon exploded out of the mountaintop above them. As it flew over them, the wind from its wings threw them all to the ground, eating more hit points as the dragon soared away.

Then, because I felt I hadn't done enough, it started to sleet.

So now they're back on a simple adventure in a small dungeon. Simple goal: rescue the slave women. No shades of grey. No backstory. Just fight, loot, and cast spells. And they haven't seemed so happy in months.

That's the hardest lesson a DM has to learn: you make the game for your players, not yourself.

Gary would be proud.

Tad And Deb

2009-07-04T16:58:00.000-07:00

...are in this month's Locus Magazine.

Two adorable people who have helped me in more ways than I can ever repay. I mean, outside of putting them on my world famous blog. Which sets the Internet on fire every day.

Timber: August 2000-June 29, 2009

2009-06-30T12:46:00.001-07:00

There are dogs, and there are dogs. And then there are dogs like Timber.

Timber lived with Ellen and Brad, my sister and brother in law, and never failed to provide pure comedy with each visit. I was often blessed with his company during family visits, and we would 'talk' to each other, much of the conversation ending with Timber simply howling at me and looking away, fed up with my inability to fully speak Husky.

He loved his Timbits, he loved his walks, and he loved being around people. And we all loved him back.

See you later, boy. I'll do my best to learn the language for when we meet again.

New Hap And Leonard!

2009-06-28T16:33:00.001-07:00

I didn't even know this was coming out. Damn!

Joe Lansdale's Hap and Leonard Pine mysteries are many things: hilarious, horrifically violent, and nigh impossible to put down. I admit I wasn't too crazy about the last one after the heights reached by the previous entries in the series, but it's been eight years since then. I've missed these two assholes very much. If you like hard crime mixed with smartass humour, then go find their first adventure, Savage Season.

Imagine the Parker novels with more laughs, and you're almost there.

Of Jelly Babies and Serra Angels

2009-06-28T11:54:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to get into Magic: The Gathering. I think I can admit that to you, my constant readers and fellow dorks. I am enjoying the iteration of the game on XBLA--especially the 'Pay Only Once' part of it. Still, since I've been playing, Vulcan Ninja has dug up our old cards and instructional manuals, and has been seen reading them over beer. Apparently, we will be playing in the real world soon.

So I thought yesterday might be a good day to stop in at Freshers, the card place up near the Wellington Chapters. I had expected an eye-roll from the Ninja, but there was none. In fact, as we got out of the car, she saw the British Shop, and ran over, full of jelly baby expectation. Her joy at finding a bag let me know that I could probably spend a million dollars in the next five minutes and she wouldn't notice, so enraptured was she in her little gooey blobs of flavoured toxicity.

So, upon entering Freshers, I was taken with how clean the place was. How well set up. How polite the staff were. This is noteworthy, because many geek havens in town do not subscribe to this belief system. I walked past two older guys playing Magic, each card sealed in cryogenic plastic.

At the back, I was overloaded with all the variations of the game available for purchase. Since I was determined to spend only $5, I found a pack that met that requirement. I went up to make my purchase.

"You play Magic?" the woman asked.

"Uh, yeah. Kinda. I just started playing again on XBOX Live," I replied.

She looked confused at that. "Okay," she offered.

So I paid for the pack, and turned to leave. She quickly scribbled me a note, saying I would get 40% off my next pack. And that Wednesday was Magic Night, and I was more than welcome to come out, to see the Lords of The Game play. Used to the usual grunting one gets from comic book store employees, I was in shock at this display of politeness and, that rarest of things, a smile.

I thanked her, and left.

Outside, Ninja pretended her hands were tentacles, clutching at my shoulders. "Come eeeen, come eeeen, come eeeen to our leeetle world, leeetle boy," she hissed.

"I thought she was nice," I said.

She laughed,then turned her attention back to her Jelly Babies, munching happily.

Re-Entering Gotham City Limits

2009-06-26T18:38:00.001-07:00

I think way too much about things that do not put food on my table, secure my future, or solve certain problems in my life. One of those things is often Batman.

I was not terribly happy with the end of Batman R.I.P, and was even less enthused with the wallet gouger that was Battle For The Cowl. So I left Gotham to its own devices.

Now DC is relaunching its' Batman books, and despite myself, I've picked up almost most of them. I've already wrote about Red Robin, but I've also enjoyed the others I've picked up.

The new take on Detective Comics--with Batwoman in the lead story with The Question backing up as a second story--is very, very good. My current favourite of the new books. Greg Rucka delivers a great script, the art...the art...is very much of the awesome. There's also a very good podcast here at Word Balloon where Rucka talks about the book, and his excitement and enthusiasm is catching.

And this was also fun.

Gotham City Sirens climbs out of the pit of a terrible title. Three gorgeous criminals, loose in Gotham, written by Paul Dini. Could just be cheesecake, but is far, far more. Still, I love Catwoman--I have a statue of her on my fireplace, after all--so perhaps I'm blinded by unattainable love. Add Harley, written by her creator, and I'll make do with Poison Ivy, who I've never really warmed to. Call it a prickly relationship. Looks like a fun caper book, and isn't as dark and clenched jaw as most other Batman books.

So, yeah, I'm back in Gotham. Let's hope it's a long and enjoyable stay. This time.

Somewhere, Carlos The Dwarf Fights On

2009-06-25T18:02:00.000-07:00

I've been watching the entire Freaks and Geeks series over the past few weeks, and came to the final episode tonight. It's like waking from a dream with Rush's Moving Pictures as a soundtrack. Such a wonderful show, much love do I feel. For those of us teetering, hands wheeling in the air, over the cloying pit of middle age, it's a balm with +5 Healing. Lindsey is the girlfriend many of us aimed for, the geeks were the guys we hung out with (at least, I did, not being as cool as Mr. Jim Dandy.) And many of my friends were stoners, lunch table regulars, vials of black hashish oil in their red and black jackets, workboots scuffed to acceptable disrepair,laces permanently undone, pregnancies and locker raids always just avoided.

The Eighties were a great time to be a teenager. Most of the time. Well, now and again. But those now and agains were pretty awesome.

Mondays?

2009-06-22T18:17:00.000-07:00

...can go fuck themselves.

Robins and Planewalkers

2009-06-21T15:51:00.001-07:00

Sunday evening looming, listening to ListenUp, the podcast I thought was gone forever. Oh, it's good to hear these guys again.

Random things, because that's all I'm capable of today after discovering spiced ale last night.

Read Red Robin #1.

This was written by Christopher Yost, who also writes the enjoyable Iron Man and co-writes the guilty pleasure that is X-Force. I still had no expectations for this, and despite some trouble with the art, it was surprisingly good. I didn't read The Battle For The Cowl so I don't have all the minute details of why Tim Drake, I mean Tim Wayne, is dressed as Red Robin. From this issue, it seems he's out to find Bruce Wayne who he refuses to believe is dead. He goes about this in a curious way--by tooling around Europe and beating up bad guys. There is also a monster running around biting out the chests of assassins, some pure assholery from New Robin Damien, and a great last page. My three dollars did not feel stolen from me.

The art had some trouble, namely with Tim clearly gaining 40 pounds of muscle mass just by putting on the Red Robin outfit. He's also very GrimDark, which isn't the Tim I've been reading for close to twenty years. Still, a good, quick action comic.

Also enjoyed Streets of Gotham.

No, wait, that isn't it...

Paul Dini and Dustin Nguyen made Detective Comics the far better Batman book for the last year or so. Now they've been moved over here to their own brand new title. Just quality. As for the Manhunter backup, I'm happy to see her back, since I always liked the character: a pissed off D.A. who steals criminals' gear from the evidence room, slaps it on and goes out to slap the shit out of bad guys. She's furious, and that makes for good reading. On the other hand, I'm not happy being forced to slap down an extra buck for a character that I may or may not want to read about. If this was The Creeper, for example, I'm not sure if I would pick up the book, Dini or no.

5% of the Campaign finished, three decks unlocked. And the XBox hasn't died. Win!

Friday Night Videos

2009-06-19T18:38:00.000-07:00

It's a Friday Night Video Dance Party! Geek music rulez! See what I did there? I used a Z! That means it's the weekend!

Vulcan Ninja has declared that this song is 'gay'. I said, "Yes, it's Enola Gay". She shook her head.

Doesn't that guy look like Adric?

The crush I had on that girl could move stars.

So Close

2009-06-17T17:36:00.000-07:00

I almost did it today.

I almost cut off my beard. I had become weak. I was starting to listen to my friends. It's clear it isn't popular. Whereas I used to get suspicious looks for having long hair when I entered a store, restaurant, or gun shop, with the beard I'm actually close to being tasered on sight. Mutterings about chain saws, about looking like I'm on drugs, all such wonderful comments from people who have, unknowingly, now opened themselves to me commenting on them.

But I won't. You see, I have manners.

Still, I came home today, went into the bathroom, and took out the scissors. And stood there, and put the blades to my beard.

Then I remembered.

And I put the scissors down.

If it's good enough for them--and Vikings--it's good enough for me.

Who Party 14

2009-06-14T16:36:00.001-07:00

The crew of my other blog, Carnival of Monsters, descended upon Who Party 14 in Toronto this weekend with righteous geekery.

Who Party was easily one of the best cons I've ever attended, due mainly to the fine programming of my pals Graeme Burk, Mike Doran and Rod Mammitzsch. The guests were also exemplary, with no traces of ego. Doctor Who directors James Strong and Colin Teague were very friendly, and I was fortunate enough to chat with Strong about his episode The Satan Pit, which I always liked for its mixture of Quatermass and Lovecraftian influences.

Other highlights included meeting up again with my friend Rob Shearman (who won a World Fantasy Award last November). We tried all day to get a picture together, but 'twas madness. When I passed him coming into the bathroom, I said, "Rob! Now we can take our picture together by the urinals!" He replied, "Yes, we could, Sean, but it wouldn't be canon."

I also got to co-host my first panel, which turned out to be rather fun: 'Saying Goodbye To The Tenth Doctor'. I co-hosted with Erin Deli, who is a new Doctor Who fan writer who will be a proverbial rising star in the years to come. She made me feel old, partly because she reminded me of how long I've been doing this fan writer thing,and how she would have been in grade school when I began. I felt like some battle scarred veteran around her and the other recent converts ('the Tennant babies'), withholding the urge to say "You think Love and Monsters was bad? You shoulda been in the trenches when Trial Of A Time Lord was around, missy!"

Still, they knew their shit, as we like to say. They've watched their DVDs, and have fed themselves only on Target novelizations and DWM. Their Basic Training has served them well.

But the highlight of my trip down was having an hour long conversation with one of my writing heroes, Lance Parkin. His Who novels are among my favourites, mainly because Parkin creates the kind of Doctor Who I adore, and because he adds an undefinable depth to his work. So many tie-in novels are thin storylines wrapped between a cover that cost more than the text itself, but Parkin's work is quality science fiction that just happens to be connected to a television show. His novel Cold Fusion opened my eyes to what the range was capable of, and he hasn't written a book yet that I haven't clutched to my chest and went Squeee! (For pure hardcore Doctor Who, Parkin's The Infinity Doctors will either melt your mind and leave you a drooling husk or make you start making obsessive notes in the margin while you surf the net to make sure you get all the references.)

All in all, a good day with good friends, celebrating a show we all love ever, ever so much.

It's Been A Long, Trying Wednesday....

2009-06-10T18:22:00.001-07:00

...and I just want to see Emily dance.

Head Down, Mind In Champloo

2009-06-08T18:02:00.000-07:00

It's Monday. The week stretches ahead like a failed amusement park of responsibility, boredom, and several grey shades of tedium. So I'm keeping my head down, lost in the comforting champloo moving around my head. I have Who Party this weekend in Toronto, so that's my carrot in front of the donkey. So what is in the mix, getting me from the grey wasteland of here to the fireworks and fun!fun!fun! times of the weekend?

Well, I've been caught up in this:

...which has been my main focus for the last four days. I think most of you would enjoy this series, because it has surprised me. When I heard the nerdcore praising it, I thought it would be the usual soft, nice and comfortable fantasy that appeals far too much to Our People. But The Dresden Files has fangs. It doesn't shy away. And Harry Dresden is perhaps the only real pulp hero we have today, one we can believe in, one where we feel every punch, every kick the poor bastard takes.

As well, since my baby is at Hospital Microsoft, I've been forced to wrench the DS away from Vulcan Ninja to play this:

...one of those RPGs that the diehards adore but sells next to nothing here in North America. If you loved Final Fantasy 12, you'll love this. There's enough weirdness to satisfy your need for originality, there is the nit picking building of character and abilities, and an omnipresent soundtrack that you keep humming the next day. You can pick it up on Amazon for under $25. I recommend it.

So, wizards and fashion conscious teens fighting demons rolling around in my head.

Yeah, a typical Monday.

Geek Awesome Moment Of The Week

2009-06-04T18:51:00.000-07:00

From Mighty Avengers #25. Dan Slott confirms why I pick up this book every month. A pissing match between Hank Pym and Reed Richards? Yes please.

A Half-Assed Star Wars Reading Primer

2009-05-31T11:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, Sarah asked me to compile a Star Wars reading primer. Since this saves me from doing any actual writing today, I am more than happy to oblige.

Right.

So you want to read a Star Wars novel, but you don't know where to start? Well, my first bit of advice would be to go and read an Elizabeth Moon novel instead.

Moon does great space opera that makes you think, and has tons of great battles and adventure. But if you're still determined to read something set in that galaxy from back then and over there, you have to decide just how you want to read: do you just want to drop in, read a book, and move on? Or do you feel the dorky urge to get the dreaded whole story, the complete soap opera of the Skywalker family?

While you decide, here's a good place to start regardless of your final decision.

The Timothy Zahn trilogy (which includes Heir To The Empire, Dark Force Rising, and The Last Command satisfies both geek needs: it tells a complete story, and it also sets up Things You Need To Know. It's your first introduction to characters who play major roles later in the printed page saga, namely Mara Jade and the Solo twins, Jaina and Jacen.

I wasn't a huge fan of Zahn's work at first, but he does do some very interesting action scenes. The villain in the piece is boring as hell--he was initially meant to be a clone of Obi-Wan Kenobi (which would have been interesting), but that was tished toshed. Also, much of what is stated here about the Clone Wars is simply wrong now, but at this point, Zahn had no clue what the Clone Wars actually were anymore than we did.

Before the next big storyline--The New Jedi Order--probably the only book I would say you should read would be I, Jedi, by Michael Stackpole.

This gives you an update on what is going on in the Star Wars universe at this point. It's also a good read. There are other smaller storylines that include characters That Will Be Important Later, like The Jedi Academy Trilogy, but they are really not that good. They are written by Kevin J. Anderson, and I tend to avoid his books. I find he relies too much on cliche and lines from the films ('I've got a bad feeling about this' ad nauseum, for example) and his stories tend not to work for me. Others may disagree, but this is my primer, so there.

Which brings us to The New Jedi Order.

It's 19 novels. I thought the idea of having a new villain was a good idea, but I'm not sure if the Yuuzhan Vong was the way to go. They seemed like Star Wars trying to be relevant to the current world political situation--having an alien enemy who hated the way of life of the galaxy (being dependent on mechanical tech like droids)and would not discuss their hatred outside of killing or enslaving everyone they met. Granted, a lot happens in these novels in relation to the Skywalker Soap Opera, but it's nineteen novels. You can go and read summaries on Wikipedia to get the main events, if you don't mind being spoiled or not experiencing the events through narrative. Up to you.

At this point, it seems that the publishers didn't want to go another long story route, since many readers did not finish reading the previous series. But they did, anyway, with the nine volume Legacy of the Force storyline.

This is the story of Darth Cadeus. Big impact on the Skywalker Soap Opera. Some half decent writers, namely Aaron Allston and Karen Traviss.

Which brings us to the next big storyline--Fate of The Jedi.

I haven't read this one, but reviews have been good.

So that's the Big Story books. If you just want to drop in and drop out, here's the ones I've enjoyed. They can be read alone with minimal knowledge of events in the sprawling, multi-book storylines.

Darth Bane: Path of Destruction is for hardcore Star Wars fans. It details the Sith waaaaay back the olden times of the galaxy, and of how their belief system changed under the titular Darth Bane. The writer wrote the Knights of The Old Republic video game, so I was happy to read his novel. It won't set your world on fire, but it will make a Star Wars geek feel more knowledgeable about those bastard Sith. And it's also fun to read about bad guys in the Star Wars universe now and again.

As in the previous post, I also recommend any book by James Luceno. Cloak of Deception (which takes place before The Phantom Menace ), Labyrinth of Evil, and of course, that Darth Vader book I mentioned.

The Medstar books were also very enjoyable, covering a medical team tending to soldiers in the Clone Wars. It was just Skywalker free, which I enjoy more often than not.

Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter is also another personal favourite stand alone. It just shows what a fucker Maul was, and how he was wasted by not appearing in more than one film.

It also serves as a somewhat prequel to the Coruscant Night series, which I can also recommend.

So there you have it. A half-assed Star Wars reading primer. I'd say argue with me, but I don't know of anyone else who has wasted more of their life reading this stuff than me. Please make sure that this gets mentioned on my gravestone. Cheers!

Darth Vader Was A Dick

2009-05-29T15:12:00.000-07:00

Finished reading the above book last night. If you're not a Star Wars fan, move along, because we're going to be knee deep in nerd very soon.

Like now.

I've always enjoyed James Luceno's Star Wars novels, mainly because he takes some very thin material (re: the entire last trilogy) and tends to build something far more substantial. In Labyrinth of Evil--

--he clearly showed how Sidious fucked with Anakin's mind, manipulating Anakin's innate stupidity and Jedi Temple enforced naivety to push him down the path to the Dark Side. There was some genuine moments of quiet horror there. He also built up the older brother/younger brother relationship between Obi-Wan and Anakin in a far more believable way, something that has not escaped the notice of the writers of the current Clone Wars. Whereas the films had very wooden characters being hammered into situations required to lead to the next fight and/or space battle, Luceno does his best to make them actual people, and as a result, tells a far more involving story.

He works the same magic here, to a somewhat different degree. The title of the book is really more about marketing than the actual story content. While we do have Vader's early days, we also are shown the after effects of Order 66 on surviving Jedi, most notably Roan Shryne and Olee Starstone. We see how not all Clone Troopers bought into killing the Jedi, and how that affected them. There is more focus on Bail Organa, who comes across as a Jedi in all but biology, and is surprised by how much he has fallen in love with his new daughter, and how he feels he must protect her now at all costs--especially when he puts two and two together regarding just who this new Vader douchebag is. And perhaps the most powerful part of the story is the depiction of the Fall of Kashyyyk, and just why Darth Vader ordered it. And yes, Chewbacca is here--and we see the first pirate ship he signed on with.

As for Vader, Luceno shows just how shitty the suit is--it pinches and hurts Vader most of the time, and things become so bad it seems Vader contemplates suicide. His constant whining and bitching becomes so bad that the Emperor actually considers kicking him to the curb,drumming his gnarled fingers and wondering if anyone better is out there. The 'Rise' of Darth Vader is a little vague--in a sense, Vader sees Anakin as someone else, and is unrelated to who he is now. I think that's what Luceno was saying. All I know is that Vader stops bitching about not being able to sleep and starts killing people left and right.

As for the combat, Luceno never takes the easy route. There is the inevitable final lightsaber battle at the end of the book that actually wasn't half bad. And as the book ends, one of those eternal fan questions-- Why would Obi-Wan hide Vader's son on Tatooine with his stepbrother?--is finally addressed.

So, yes, a nerdy time was had by all.

Rollergeddon!

2009-05-24T11:00:00.001-07:00

I really had no idea what to expect at this, my very first experience with women's roller derby. At the very least, it would be a chance to people watch. Maybe I could snag a story idea. But perhaps most importantly, it would be a chance to break the ever increasing comfort of my Same Old Routine, that soul strangling yet so much sought after life habit that I fall into with increasing frequency.

Vulcan Ninja and I took a cab out to the Canada Building at the Western Fairgrounds, both of us wondering just how in hell a roller derby would work. We waited outside for friends to join us, seeing a derby girl come out in a pink skirt and kneepads and fire up a smoke. Finally, companions arrived, and we walked into the building. And both of us went, "Oooh, that's how."

The Canada Building is essentially just a giant space. Metal bleachers had been set up against the west wall, with a fenced off bar area to the right. (Which is where Vulcan Ninja headed first.) Red tape had been laid down in three extremely large circles, demarcating where the players would roll. On the floor in the front of the last circle line were dire warnings of direness should anyone not a derby player step over it. The metal posts supporting the roof had gym mats duct taped to them. The players were already skating around, the London team (The Thames Fatales) in green and black, the Toronto team (the Derby Debutantes)in pink and black.

We were handed a well made out program, complete with rules, photographs of the signals referees would make, and pictures of all the players. We enjoyed their derby names: Anya Face, Suffer Jet, Dawn Keshane, Leather Locklear, Splat Benatar, to name a few. Vulcan Ninja quickly digested the rules, and explained them to me as the match began. After I asked my usual questions of 'What was that again? Who does what? So what does that mean?" it all began to make sense. And suddenly, much fun was being had.

Part of me was expecting the fake theatricality of wrestling, but that isn't what was on show. The game was fast paced, with enough shuddering checks and wipeouts to make me cringe in pain. A few flare ups of anger, especially when a Toronto player (those bitches!)grabbed London's Elle Boes' T-shirt, and whipped her to the ground. The four refs missed it, and I could have sworn I saw a pitchfork raised. Another incident occurred when one of the London player's roller skates (the old school kind) broke. And when a Toronto player fell and banged her head on the cement, it was a bit frightening--all the players dropped to one knee as the EMTs raced out, and after a few minutes, a cheer broke out as she slowly got to her feet and raised her hand in thanks to the crowd.

At half time, hula hoops were placed on the makeshift rink so kids could come out and play with them. When the buzzer rang for the second half, players' families quickly collected all the hoops and toys, the kids handing them back without any drama. I found this touch to be genius, and emphasized what a strange family event the whole evening was.

The crowd wasn't what I expected, either. There were older people there, many of them mothers and fathers of the players themselves, but the majority of the audience were alt types, writers and artists from around the city, many of them I turned out to know. The music blasting from the sound system was old punk rock, and despite my misgivings, both Ninja and I really felt at home.

By the night's end, London's Fatales had won, with some amazing work by the aforementioned Suffer Jet. As the buzzer sounded, both teams hugged and posed for group photos together, and the after party began to kick in.

Vulcan Ninja and I said our goodbyes to our friends, and went back out into the cool spring night. Ninja, being Ninja, was already bemoaning the fact that she was too old and too wrapped up in martial arts to join the team, but the light in her eye made me think that she may just be trying to convince herself of that.

So yes, a good night. The whole DIY aspect of it--that everyone involved was doing it out of love, with a punk aesthetic that did not preclude high standards (the program itself was very well put together, and the entire night ran smoothly)--was heartening. It's nice to see something like this happen in London created by the sort of people the conservative consensus of this city likes to disown as quickly as possible. Or maybe this was the true London--creative people creating rather magical things through dedication and sweat. This time it wasn't a play, or a band--it was a sport that turns out to be more entertaining than many (myself included) would have thought.

Anyway, the next hometown match is in October. Shouldn't be missed, really.

Star Warsy Trek!

2009-05-17T15:12:00.001-07:00

I just saw the new Star Wars movie. It was loads better than the last three. It had everything I love in Star Wars, from a young, blond farmboy going out in space and becoming a hero, huge space battles, and we even get to see a planet get destroyed. And we even had a snow planet, which we haven't seen since The Empire Strikes Back. Although I'm not sure that was the correct way to portray the Wampa. But it would be nerdy of me to point that out, lol.

Still, it was a pretty good movie, and the best Star Wars we've had in like, forever. It's just too bad the movie poster spelled Wars wrong. Someone screwed up and put the word Trek there. The mistake even made it into the film itself. I guess standards are slipping in ol' editorial or something.

(To end, I add this image. Readers of this blog will undoubtedly spend about ten seconds going over it, despite themselves. It is who we are.)

Finally! I Found The New Thermals Album!

2009-05-16T19:00:00.001-07:00

This really shouldn't have been so hard, but the Universe was conspiring again. The only explanation.

Now We Can See is filled with great power pop. This is something I like a lot. The writing team of Kathy Foster and Hutch Harris just exudes aural caffeine. And when they take a breather to slow it down, they deliver gems like How We Fade, which I think would be a great song to dance to with the nerd girl of your dreams. In fact, I may have to find out if that is true.

1965 Was The Best Year To Be Born A Geek

2009-05-14T17:52:00.000-07:00

A very interesting and dork-centric thread was here at Boing Boing. Cory insists that 1971 was the best year to be born a geek, but I disagreed, stating the year I was born--1965--was loads better. Of course, being 12 when I saw Star Wars forms my reasoning. Carrie Fisher imprinted on me hard, and explains many things about me today.

As I read through the comments, luxuriating in the reminiscences of our people --the original blue dice from the first D&D set, seeing 2001, playing in arcades with real man games like Defender and Fucking TRON--the one thing I couldn't relate to was all the early computer programming. And I felt such a deep well of sorrow at that.

I was in the very first computer class at dear old Westminster High. If you are of a certain age, you will remember the atmosphere of such a class: the teacher acting like a High Priest opening the door to a New Age, those black and white boxy Commodores, and the ever constant threat of overheating and evil dust getting into the system. Dust, this being the early Eighties, probably sent by Commies.

I lasted one week. The teacher had the students in mind that he wanted there--the brainiacs and math nerds, ones he probably hoped to use to hack NORAD and take over the world--and made my introduction to COBOL as difficult as possible. I remember when he asked us to create a password, I went with 'Saltheart Foamfollower', since I was reading Thomas Covenant at the time, and thought, fuck, no one will ever guess that.

Of course, this being me and technology, there was a problem. So I had to tell him my password. He just looked at me.

"What is it?"

"Saltheart Foamfollower."

The look of disgust on his face was the prelude to the end of my computing career. Why he hated it so much I never knew. But everything after that just became a trial, with the rest of the class keening along with his from on-high instructions of pre-industrial computer programming, with me raising my hand every two minutes to please ask him to repeat what he said because my computer was doing something weird again. He would then stomp stomp stomp, glare at my screen. Repeat this scenario several times.

Soon, that feeling all of us hate--of being left behind, of not being smart began to grow and grow. Even my girlfriend of the time--who was among the Chosen--began to be ashamed of my seeming incompetence at learning the language of our new gods.

So when I considered dropping the class, the teacher didn't argue with me. And that was the end of my computing days.

So I missed out on a lot. I don't blame the teacher for this--he must have been in his mid-twenties, and being a good teacher was perhaps something he became later . I could have taken the class again, but my personality was such at the time that being made to feel stupid when doing something new meant I'd never do it again. So I missed much of the computing stuff the fellow Boing Boingers--and Crazylegs, if my guess isn't completely wrong--enjoyed. Like BBSes, learning to do neat stuff, and seeing this field begin to grow and change into the other dimensional portal to awesome that is now.

It makes me sad. It truly does. Because a geek hates nothing more than losing a chance to obsess over something cool.

Nectar of The Gods

2009-05-10T11:57:00.001-07:00

Vulcan Ninja brought me this boon yesterday. There is nothing better in this world than a bottle of Faygo, whatever the flavour. And if it can be Faygo Red Pop, then so much the better.

I was going to take over the world today, but decided to enjoy this instead.