My brother gave me an interesting look into the history of rap this evening. This included an impromptu performance of D.J Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince of Belair's "Time to Chill"

I have included the lyrics for your perusal... or as my learned brothers says... "your rapping enjoyment."

Time to Chill

[Fresh Prince]
For years I have been waitin and hesitatin to make a
rap record that had the pace of a
slow song quiet storm chillin while the fire is warm
You and your girl with this record on
your radio or stereo I don't know
I love you so is what you'll be sayin while this record's playin
You reminscin and kissin your girl
Relax lay back unwind cause now is time to chill

Setting the mood, by the use of this groove
is an ingenious, perceptive, brilliant, a very clever move
Because the bassline, combined with the fresh rhyme
at a slow tempo enticed passion to grow
But if it's not passion, for which you search
then use the song as a massage after a hard day's work
And if it's true that music calms the savage beast
Play this cut in the jungle and put the lions to sleep
Take a deep breath, stretch, kick off your footwear
Put on the tape of this record, but beware
Caution, warning, it's your decision
There's nothin stronger that you can buy, without prescription
It's soothing, somewhat hypnotic
A rhythmic anesthetic it's practically a narcotic
You want it? We got it -- come get it we're widdit
Because it's all at the push of a button, yo Jeff, hit it!

The objective, of this musical extravaganza
is to enlighten you, stanza by stanza
Verse after verse, have been precisely arranged
Rearranged and then changed until the best remained
The result being, this incredible song
So for at least eight hours a day, you'll have this record on
In the morning and at night in your room
And all through the afternoon, you will be
listening, mentally rapped up in the cut
Some people will sit down and some will choose to get up
But whatever you choose, just keep your ear to the wax
Because we got somethin def that other rappers lack
We haven't been able to put our fingers on what it is
But it's different and it's def and it appeals to kids
and teens and adults and senior citizens too
And I'd be willing to bet, that it appeals to you, too!
So if you're not into rap, give us a chance
to change your mind, and to make you dance
to this lyrical miracle, this musical discovery
But yo I wanna chill for a second, yo Jeff, cover me

It's like paradise, this music is nice
It makes you hot if you want it too, or twice as cold as ice
It brings love to the heart of a criminal
With this subliminal power, all the women'll
flock while all the guys rocks, when it's on your box
It gained us a much bigger reputation than the White Sox
You may ask yourself are we that famous?
Bust this, the Queen of Spain knows what my real name is
Our time is runnin short so I'll bid you farewell
You know this cut is so def, that you have been overwhelmed
Be cool, be chill, relax, have no fear..
.. I'm outta here

Carol the Waitress hails from Newfoundland. At least I think that she does, my memory fails me somewhat. I only met her the one time after my disastrous cinematic experience that was Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. Companion Wader knew Carol much better. He takes all his lady friends to Humpty's to meet Carol. What a way to keep them guessing.

When Carol lived in Newfoundland she drove a rather large car. Make, Model, or Year I do not recall, but her car had a push button, apparently some kind of shifting mechanism. Again, my memory fails me on this one.

But only shortly before... The snow was still falling when we left the Aurora. But the night was still young, the horror of Sky Captain was seared on our brains... and Wader had neglected to return some items from a recent pirating operation, so in his white chariot we raced, heated seats and all, along the desurfaced road to his house. The chariot did admirably well considering the conditions, but nothing replaces a big manly truck on ugly FSJ roads. This is why I moved to the city... I wanted to leave trucks behind me. I am a pedestrian, and FSJ is not pedestrian friendly (as was evident by the many times drivers have attempted to run me over on a crosswalk). Wader didn't ask me in for evening drinks, he knows I am too much of a lady for that. However, I am not so much a lady that I didn't leap at the opportunity for a little wild behaviour with wicked wader. We threw caution to the wind and took the truck bypass to save the the wheels of wader's white chariot.

"Where shall we go," queried Wade with a questionable tone. "Damnit," I declared, "don't make demands of me!" Reluctantly we arrived on a consensus. Humpty's Family Restaurant loomed to the right of us, KalTire to the left.... both are core to the Fort St. John experience, but it was late... and KalTire wasn't open so no complementary popcorn or coffee for us.



Enter Humpty's... Waitress One approaches "Smoking or Non-Smoking?"... I think for a split second but then I remember all the hype about second hand smoke and I go for non. Wader won't be able to indulge in a good cigar during our evening meal. He doesn't seem too disappointed, but perhaps that is because Carol, his good friend from Newfoundland is Waitress Two. I can't think of an appropriate theme song for Wade and Carol. Their affection startles me. At one point in the evening Carol presses Wade's head to her breast. She also squeezes his head lovingly. Wader has a dirty secret and he's not telling anyone.

Waitress One and Waitress Three feature very little in this story. One brings me toast and is berated by Carol. The other has very poor hygeine and sneezes multiple times but then does not wash her hands. She did not bring us our food, but I am still frightened.

But back to Carol and her car. The snow outside lets her reminisce back to the good ol days when she and her friends would go to the bar in the winter and she would pile everyone into her giant car... and they would be the only car that could make it up the hill on Murphy Lane. She laughs to herself as she thinks about Office O'Reilly who always knew that they had been to the bar, and the time when one car came ripping around the corner and slammed into the lamp post. Carol is sadistic, no wonder W feels a connection with her.

Carol has a hard life as a waitress at Humpty's. Young punks were in the other night throwing creamers about. She had to tell them repeatedly to stop or they would have to leave. Young punks in FSJ don't listen to waitresses like Carol. Waitresses like Carol who aren't listened to call the cops. I wouldn't want Carol's life.

She's probably going to work soon. I hope that the snow is gone, because Carol doesn't have her big car anymore.

Imagine what results when you combine the Wizard of Oz, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, The Matrix, Indiana Jones, The Rocketeer, Iron Giant... and numerous other films... Perhaps to some this would be a marvelous combination resulting in a dynamic cinematic experience. Unfortunately for me, this was not the case.

The night before my departure to vic city... my chum Wader was up for a little film watching. "Come, let's see Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow," he coaxed. "It's the first movie to be filmed entirely in blue screen," he gushed. Needless to say this is not what convinced me. The selection was a little slim at the aurora cinema centre... and Jude Law as a dashing pilot seemed to be the best choice.

Now as you read this post, please understand that I am not against spoiling a bad movie... it is often the case that I talk extensively about a bad movie in an effort to cleanse my system of the experience. I will approach this "review" systematically. I will try to enlighten you as to my true theatre going experience in an effort to give you, the reader, and idea of what it is was actually like to watch a movie at the cinema in FSJ (an especially bad movie).

The weather was snowy outside, Wader arrived in his white chariot complete with heated seats and tunes by uber entertainer Cher. (The boy claims not to listen to Cher all the time, but each time I saw the kid in the three weeks I was in FSJ Cher was blasting on the stereo...) The drive from my house to the theatre takes a grand total of three minutes. We arrived in style, waltzed in the doors at the Totem Mall... avoided the lineup and headed straight for the automatic teller (or whatever it is called). Now, we are still young punks ourselves... but walking into the Totem we were surrounded by the real punks in the 13-15 year old glory. We needed to shake off the shock of being in the midst of the little weirdos so we took a stroll of the mall concourse. We discussed many things in the five minutes it took to walk up and down the mall... including the merits of really ugly velour bedspreads with animals, unicorns, etc., the rather large size of the now empty SAAN store, how the DaVinci code is never in when Wade goes to buy it at Cole's Bookstore, and how the mall is undergoing renovations at Christmastime... which is ridiculous, but according to former construction worker W... it's cheaper. Then W went on to discuss various mall renovations in Edmonton... how installing drywall makes a huge difference... and metal t-bar ceilings vs. fire-retardent ceilings... He knows this stuff because he was in construction.

All this before a good dose of Jude Law? Who wouldn't have been excited about this movie... But wait, the pre-movie experience isn't over. We blew the Totem popsicle stand because the gaggle of girls and bevy of boys were increasing steadily... headed over to the old haunt Timmy HoHos to grab a cuppa java. We indulged in a little psychological warfare with John... the customer service rep with very bad teeth... who had extreme difficulty picking up my danish and the Wader's walnut crunch from the pastry tray. The movie was fast approaching, and Wader was concerned about us finishing our hot chocolattes (sorry no coffee this time) before we had to hightail it back to the Aurora. So after trying to tip John in order to avoid giving his spare change to the Tim Horton's Children's Camp of Indoctrination, but being foiled because all tips go to the camp anyways... Wader and I had a short convo and then I wrapped the chocolattes in my scarf in my bag and we were off to the movie.

With our piping hot beverages secretly stowed in my bag... we made it in auditorium one. Sparkling conversation ensued with Red-Haired Usher Boy... termed "Tim" by W. because usher boy looked like a Tim. We tried to improve "Tim's" customer service skills... asking him where the best seat in the house was... Apparently he likes the middle... or the seats where you can put your feet up. We didn't listen to "Tim" because he couldn't even tell us what his official title was, and he didn't show enough appreciation for the collective creation by W. & moi of his new and improved job title; "Official Ticket Taker and Seating Coordinator". Sorry Tim. you will go no where with that attitude.

And so the previews begin. John Travolta and Joaquin Phoenix are starring in Ladder 49... I think the firefighter thing was already done by Kurt Russel and Billy Baldwin... but oh well.. more useless previews... movie begins... Blimps, Scientist being followed... mystic lighting, sepia tones... Scientist goes missing... flash to newspaper articles... Polly Prentice at her typewriter with red lipstick. She's a no nonsense girl... goes for her story with lots of zeal. In other words she is ridiculously annoying. Meets last scientist in Radio City Music Hall while watching the Wizard of Oz. Air sirens... Robots attack Gotham City. Polly is there with her trusty camera with no flash and takes pictures of robots with amazingly short exposures (says I to Wader... do you think those pictures will turn out?... I am incapable of suspending disbelief in this movie and it is only about 10 minutes into it. Not a good sign) Gotham City polizia show up with their handy dandy machine guns, attempting to shoot marching army of big robots. Much to their dismay it doesn't seem to work. So let's call for Sky Captain... He flies in... shoots em up, knocks two robots down... all while Polly is running around underneath taking her pics and narrowly escaping being crushed under the big robot feet (Damn I say... Polly is annoying... and she knows nothing about photography)... As Sky Cpt. makes last pass with plane he spots Polly on sidewalk... "Polly," he says in a bitter tone... "Joe," says Polly in an equally bitter tone.



Joe flies back to secret base in mountains only minutes away from Gotham City. How convenient because pedestrian Polly manages to go back to her office... go through all the available information twice about the mad scientist (whose name escapes me at this point) and do a lot of other research before beating Joe back to his office so she can surprise him in his darkened office while he drinks some Milk of Magnesia with her killer line, "Do you have a tummy ache or something?" Joe is startled and pulls out his gun... I get excited because I think Polly is going to be shot and wouldn't that be exciting... but then "that a boy" Dex bursts in chewing his dubbl bubbl gum. Of course Polly and Joe were once in a relationship... Polly sabotaged Joe's plane to get a picture of someone... but maybe because Joe was cheating on Polly when they were in Bei-Jing. Surprise attack on secret Sky Captain Base.... Robots with wings (like the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz) appear... Joe is forced to take back seat flyer Polly with him in his plane... big battle ensues... I'm supposed to be impressed with the special effects, but really I am not. Then we find ourselves back in Gotham City, lurking around scientist Wagner's lab. Here we meet the everyone's favourite villian... the mute Asian woman. She's beaten up the scientist... he gives two suppositories like vials to Polly as he dies.. Polly hides them from Joe because she is dumb.



Meanwhile back at the base there is another crazy attack by tentacled robots. Gadget Man Dex is taken hostage, but not before cunningly revealing the location of the control signal for the robots. Joe and Polly arrive back at the base... "Dex, Dex... where are you?"... The base is trashed, Joe is sad because his buddy has been kidnapped... Polly pretends not to know what the robots were looking for, but she finds the piece of the map with the location that Dex had affixed to the underside of a beam with his bubble gum.

(And all this time I am thinking... where is Angelina Jolie and her crazy eyepatch... she got top billing in this movie... and we are more than 45 minutes into it and she hasn't appeared yet. What the hell is going on?) Joe and Polly take off for Nepal... they arrive to meet up with Joe's old friend... and here the writers insert a ridiculous subtitled joke. Friend of Joe says in foreign language. "Cold Air. Nipples Get Hard"... What... where the hell did that come from? I look to Wader aghast... and I notice he is looking considerably uncomfortable with the poor quality of this movie. While in Nepal, Polly and Joe find an abandoned uranium mine... they are trapped inside in a room full of dynamite when the menacing porters turn on them and take the suppository vials from Polly... Poor levels of suspense build when Joe, Pollly, and friend are running from the mine to avoid the inevitable dynamite explosion. They reach the exit just in time, but all three are knocked out. Maybe Polly is dead this time?

Polly wakes up in bed naked. Flower petals are strewn on the pillow. She turns over. Joe is beside her. She tells Joe to leave. Joe is also naked so he does not. Joe turns to face away from Polly (Good Move Joe!)... portly friend is beside him. We are supposed to find this funny. A monk comes into the room... Friend translates for Joe... Joe wants to kill mad scientist... Monk decides to help Joe. Monk brings Joe to only living survivor of uranium mine. The survivor looks suspiciously like Yoda from Star Wars. He gives Joe his staff to find mad scientist's secret base... and then he asks Joe to kill him (not the mad scientist... but Yoda)... Why? They never explain.

Please note, that the Nepalese monastery where Joe, Polly, and friend are looks suspiciously like Rivendell. And the monk... was he speaking Nepalese or Elvish? The movie continues to get worse from this point on. Angelina shows up as a British flying aircraft carrier commander (might be a different rank... I really don't care...). Turns out she was the one who Joe had been seeing when he was with Polly. Couldn't see that coming a mile away. Nothing happens... the island of the mad scientist has lots of dinosaurs... we keep on coming back to Polly and her obsession with her camera... She is saving her last two shots... but in a moment of panic she shoots the ground and is very upset. Again, I don't care. And so guess what happens when they get inside the lair... The mad scientist is building an ark inside a rocket ship...and what was in those two suppository vials... but Adam and Eve. Mad scientist wanted to start a new world... but with only two humans? Polly knocks something down... this alerts the robots... they come to attack Joe and Polly while a countdown for lift off of the rocket commences...



but Dex appears with all the missing scientists in some kind of hovercraft. Lucky for them that Dex and the scientists have lightning reflexes because as soon as the countdown started they escaped... and appeared miraculously to save Joe and Polly. Dumb Dumb... Then we have to go through a whole Wizard of Oz sequence where Sir Lawrence Olivier's face appears as the mad scientist... but he is actually dead... and then in the best part of the whole movie (which I missed because I was saying something to Wader) Joe punches Polly in the face to knock her out. DAMN!!! Joe gets in a fight with the Mute Mysterious Asian Woman... Polly comes to save him and it is revealed that Mute Mysterious Asian Woman is a robot. Joe and Polly board the rocket as it takes off. Polly can read German and presses the emergency release button (why is there an emergency release button? You are a diabolical scientist and you have a way to back out of your plan????) and all the animals are shot off with their escape pods. Out of nowhere the Mute Mysterious Asian Robot appears with her light staff (like a light saber... but a staff with a glowing end). Somehow they destroy her... use her staff to destroy the rocket... and then Joe and Polly make it to their own escape pod. Defying all laws of gravity their escape pod falls to the ocean faster than all of the animals... and Polly still has one photo left. But she uses her last photo on Joe... (as you can see by the following pic I took from rottentomatoes.com)... The movie ends as Joe tells her she has the lenscap on. There is no lens cap... You're a liar Joe. This movie was ridiculous... it tried to pay homage to too many films... it had no story, I didn't like the characters, and I wasted nine dollars and fifty cents.



Jude Law should know not to make movies with Gwyneth Paltrow... Look what happened in the Talented Mr. Ripley. I thought that was the bottom of the barrel... but apparently not. I'll give the movie one thing... it had fantastic lighting.

"Give us Barry..."

I'm a multi-tasker... so for an interesting look at the new "hipster" translation of the Bible, go to my post on my other blog.... here it is.... The ONE translation

So here I am back in ol Vic city... unemployed and looking for a rich benefactor to finance my post secondary education and other artistic and intellectual endeavours... but away from the chaos of the september snowfall in Fort St. John.

My trip down was absolutely ridiculous. The snowfall from the night before had not only done major pruning to the trees, hedges, and bushes in town... but the snow had also knocked out the power to much of the community.

I was scheduled to fly out on the inaugural flight of HawkAir to Victoria at 2pm. I arrived at the airport with bags in tow nice and early... and much to my surprise the airport had no power. I needed to think positive at this point... so I checked in with my slightly overweight suitcases (thankfully the electronic scale wasn't working and they had no batteries, so no one knew that my bags were almost 70 lbs instead of 50...) I received my boarding pass (my seat number written on a piece of paper)... and I waited patiently for the news if the plane was going to land or if they were going to BUS all the passengers to Dawson Creek. And of course, because this post is a lament of inefficient travel... the plane didn't land... the six severe-looking security personnel didn't get to frisk each passenger and go through all of our belongings... and we all piled into the bus (to clarify... not a school bus, but a chartered bus) to take us to DC. Long story short, we arrived in DC around 3:30... the plane did not take off until 4:00pm...

I didn't get to Vancouver until 6:00pm... I missed my connecting flight to Victoria and I had to take the ferry over... but I had to take the 9 o'clock ferry... and while on the bus to and from the ferry I was forced to hear the obnoxious conversation of two really stupid men. If you are going to talk loud enough for everyone to hear you... at least make your conversation interesting and amusing...

To top the whole trip off, when I arrived in Victoria I was locked out of my brother's place... I searched for a good twenty minutes for the "hidden" key by the glow of my cellphone... finally I gave up and called my friend B to help me. By the time she had arrived I had fished my flashlight out of my suitcase (a frivolous purchase that I made for a camping trip this summer and my parents mocked me because I was so pleased with it...) that I had luckily not packed in the boxes with my kitchen junk. But the two of us could not find the key... I was too tired to try to climb through the open window (I am sure that if I had tried I would have fallen and broken my neck), so we gave up and B so graciously helped me haul my heavy suitcases to her vehicle.

I usually enjoy travel. But in this case I wanted the trip to be quick and painless... with the scenery passing in a blur of colour. Damn mother nature and freak weather patterns...

I tried to pack... really I did. But it is hardly a fascinating task, especially when the bulk of what I own... my prized book collection... I won't be able to take with me right away. My books are such little things, but when piled together they weigh so much. I don't even want to go through the pain of prioritizing my books... I am not even talking about my books that I have in my room... just the ones that are still in the boxes in the "warehouse". They have sat there safe and sound... for over a year... because there was no room on my pitiful bookshelves. It is really tragic.

I tried to pack for almost an hour... I am sure that there are a few boxes sitting in the garage that I need to sift through... but they contain all the boring kitchen stuff that will also not accompany me on the first part of my journey. I am reliving the steps of my father... the young Italian immigrant who lived for a year in Canada out of a cardboard suitcase, except I have two non-descript Samsonite suitcases of 200-dernier polyester. The airline will only allow me 50 lbs for each bag... so I will leave home with just over 100 lbs of clothes, a few textbooks, and my essential technological equipment.

Packing is time consuming. I sat on the floor in the warehouse and went through the contents of each box. Some had been partially emptied, as over the course of the previous year I had removed some of the contents to fill the empty spaces in my downstairs dungeon. One box holds a blue plastic bag with a pile of letters and notes from my youth. My past, all wrapped up in blue plastic. I keep it as proof of the ridiculousness of my follies, the broken hearts that I caused without effort, and the kind and insightful words bestowed on me by precious few. It was a lonely year... it's been a lonely few weeks. But sorting through my blue plastic past reminded me that I was not alone in the warehouse... I was just lost.

To avoid criticism do nothing, say nothing, be nothing.
Elbert Hubbard (1856-1915)

crit·ic Pronunciation Key (krtk)
n.

1. One who forms and expresses judgments of the merits, faults, value, or truth of a matter.

I am known to be a critic.

I do not see this as a flaw, although I know of several others who disagree with me. Not to place blame, but rather to analyse the origin of my critical nature I look to my early days as a student. Each afternoon I would arrive home from school, fresh with my praises and complaints about the day. My darling mother would patiently listen to my observations but only if I could justify my position with reasons why I did or did not like something and what would improve the situation. This was a daunting task for a young child, but my little mother knew that I liked to talk and making me think about what I was saying and kept me quiet for a few minutes at a time.

I still very much need to vent at the end of the day. I have learned that not everyone is as receptive to my comments as my mother was and still is. I criticize not the complain, but to assess what I think is good and bad in an attempt to foster improvement. But to many I am just a complainer, and a constant one at that. I sense their suspicion that I have a difficult personality and that I can never be satisfied with anything. Be conscious, however, that I am equally as suspicious of people who seem to have no issue with anything and accept what comes to them without any question.

If we do not challenge, how do we ever make things better? I am a critic because I am an idealist, and a constant one at that.

do not underestimate the power of non-response.
realize what this silence conjures up.
I communicate not to deliver information one way, but also to receive.
the lack of response to my questions puts my mind to work.
disappear into the routine of your daily life and think little of me ever again.
I sit and ponder.
my only response is from the wall that encloses my room.
the sound of my voice bounces back and lingers for analysis.
your silence is violent.

Me


More of me (I've got to store my profile shots somewhere)

Greetings to all who are visiting my blog. I will remember you all fondly because you were here with me in the beginning.

For the time being I have not much to say... because I have returned to a state of infancy... I only eat, sleep, and cry because I am in the midst of writing a theory paper that boggles the mind.

Have patience... eventually my blog will grow and develop into something with a little more substance.