I think my 2nd All Freakin Night truly solidified my love for Olympia.  Drinking tepid rum and cokes out of Dasini bottles while leaning forward to throw trash off a 2nd floor balcony, all the time attempting to slur out a quip at a theater screen (as loud as fucking possible), which is playing a movie about space slugs that turn people into zombies; I even turned down taking mushrooms that night.  The funny thing is that there were at least four more movies afterwards.  What I’m trying to expertly transition into is my love for Night of The Creeps.

.

This is one of those movies I always saw sitting up on the rack at the local video/liquor store when I was a kid.  I’d go into the stagnant shop once a week with my Dad to rent a NES game and if I’d been good that week I could maybe get a movie too.  When my Dad would browse the “walk-in closet” sized section of ever so fine spirits (always coming out with rum) I could be found gawking at whatever creepy or crazy VHS caught my eyes.  Some of my favorites that I can still remember today are:  Dead Alive, Evil Dead 2, and Nightmare On Elm Street 3. Of course I was never allowed to rent any of these movies and probably didn’t see most of them until I was 18.  My Mom told me about seeing The Exorcist in theaters when my oldest brother Andrew was a toddler (he just turned 40).  The movie fucked with my Mom so bad that she sped home right when the end credits started to roll, convinced my brother was most likely speaking in tongues and telling the babysitter that his/her mother sucks cocks in Hell (he does love Motorhead).  Anyways, it makes sense that I wasn’t priviliged these gems as a child.

Sci-fi horror is the basis of many of my nightmares growing up.  Once Andrew blossomed into the old brother that wished to enlighten/terrify his uncultured sponge of a sibling, I found – very bluntly – the ingredients to being frightened via film.  Let’s all give a hand for John Carpenter at his cinematic raping of the senses: The Thing. Even to this day I can’t think of a movie that hucks bundles of dynamite at the caveman side of human nature as his remake did.  I know at some point in my youth Andrew threw on what would become a film that rests comfortably in my top ten favorites and I couldn’t shit right for a week.  No joke; my Dad had to sit in on all my bathroom endeavors for a bit because I was afraid of Charles Hannahan’s detached spider fuck-me-I-never-ever-wanna-see-that-thing-whether-in-real-or-fucking-Oz head.

Aliens is right there with The Thing when it comes to a movie that caused me to always run and jump on my bed when it was lights out.  How was I to know there wasn’t a facehugger under the box spring;  didn’t fuck about.  It also spawned my HATE for Paul Reiser even though I know Burke was just a character, but I don’t care.  Every time I watched Mad About You (don’t even ask me why, I don’t even know) I would stare at Reiser and think, “You lied to Ripley and so many good people were killed because of it.  I wish I could have punched you to death before that alien got you… prick.”  Guilty by association:  I hate Helen Hunt too.  Whatever, she sucks.

So when my parents would leave me home alone I’d dig through the pile of copied VHS tapes (my favorite had The Great Mouse Detective, Wayne’s World, and Addams Family on it) and usually end up with Aliens because The Thing disappeared once Andrew left for college.  Between the releases of these two sci-fi horror titans I was missing out on the teen/college equivalent:  Night of The Creeps.

Doofy college freshmen – whose best friend has polio – attempts to take out his dream girl for the formal, but of course zombie jocks/bros who are afflicted with space brain slugs derail the evening.  Solution?  A shotgun, flamethrower, revolver, lawnmower, and Tom Atkins.  I know for a fact I would have grown up to be a better person if I had this movie in my possession as a youngster.  I probably would have been nicer to people with disabilities too, but my parents insisted I play t-ball.  Thus it’s not my fault that I love Christopher Reeves jokes, but Mom and Dad’s.

Horror is the genre that I can’t get tired of and am always willing to watch.  If I wanna have trouble sleeping I’ll put on The Changeling (I’m actually a little uneasy right now just thinking about it) and keep thinking I see something just out of my peripherals.  How about bad people getting exactly what they deserve?  Then it’s Sleepaway Camp, just make sure no one spoils the ending for ya.  What keeps horror fresh is the blending of genres.  I’m trying to stay on the subject of sci-fi horror, but what makes a film watchable over and over again for me is the humor.  Re-Animator is a rare title that I could easily watch every day because it’s funny as shit.  A roommate justifies hiding a dead cat in his mini-fridge because he didn’t wish to leave a sticky note that read “cat dead, details later”.  Dr. West is a gentleman and don’t you forget it.

I’ve heard “splatter comedy” tossed around when talking about movies like Creeps, but The Return of The Living Dead was the first movie to be labeled by this sub-genre to my knowledge.  Without going off the deep end about it, they’re films that use gore and violence – not just funny dialogue – to heighten the comedic qualities as the story pans out.  To someone who isn’t big on horror it can sound perverse that laughter can come from someone being blown up, but with the right line delivered, piece of music used, or sometimes even the lack of both, humor can come spilling out in bloody abundance.

The real appeal in Creeps is writer/director Fred Dekker’s stew of a tale that involves so many aspects in cinema.  You got two buddies who are bumbling around a college campus and all they really want is some lady-loving, which leads to partying.  Apparently getting into a frat gets you laid, so just like any “sex comedy” whacky antics need to ensue; a prank.  The prank brings us to a previous flashback of the cliche 50’s that is familiar as Hell because of old throwback black and whites.  An object jettisoned from an alien craft streaks over make-out point and of course it lands nearby; it MUST be investigated.  It’s a perfect catalyst to the ridiculousness that object – a singular space slug – will cause years later.

Once bursting heads start spurting out legions of wiggly-jiggles that dart across tile floors looking for an open orifice (my God that was fun to type) we need a hero and we get one:  Tom “Thrill Me” Atkins.  His character Detective Ray Cameron easily sits alongside dudes like Reggie, Peter, and Ash at the big boy table for bad asses in horror.  He’s full of one-liners, a fucked up past, and finishes every sentence with a shotgun blast (I’m on a God damn roll).  That’s the issue I have with many hero characters these days, is that they can’t be fun and kooky.  The ones that are a little odd-ball are typically very young characters, but rarely are they the old-timers with age in their face and stories to tell.

And don’t let me forget J.C. played by Steve Marshall (he was also on 21 Jump Street, so you know this guy is big time).  Now I always say he had polio in the movie – even though there’s no mention of it – so maybe I’ll just switch to “handicapped”… even though I wanna say “cripple”.  Having a character with a disability for no good God damn reason does add some realism to a film that is so far passed the limits of normality.  I hate when every actor in a film looks like they just got done tanning in the OC and are on their way to getting frap-a-fucking-chinos at some coffee shop before they zoom off to blow each other while watching Friends. The characters in this movie look like normal to partially awkward people, just like every other random you pass on the street.  Dekker threw in a guy who should easily be a shut-in, but J.C. turns out to be one of the better characters in the movie.  He pushes his buddy Chris (the actor Jason Lively was also on 21 Jump Street; P.I.M.P.) to actually talk to a woman and not be such a pussy that bitches about everything wrong in his life, but actually assists him in fixing all the bullshit.

I don’t think I ever wanna have kids.  I’m already too damn selfish as it is and if I have to fork out cash to some free-loader that can’t even walk or talk; don’t think so.  But if I ever become “responsible” and “stop peeing in the sink” which – God forbid – leads me into parenthood, my kid would get a VHS tape (yup, just because I’m an adult doesn’t mean I’m NOT poor) with three titles on it:  The Thing, Aliens, and Night of the Creeps.  Because isn’t the whole point of having kids so as not to be your parents or do I have that backwards?  I really don’t know.  Well I’m off to get a vasectomy; wish me luck.

During the semester I read approximately 250 pages a week, to as much as 600, if it’s thesis season–and that doesn’t even include my own writing or my email. But I also don’t notice it–I just do it, like breathing or drinking coffee or noticing where I’m walking. I did take an old-fashioned speed-reading course in grade school (described in my first novel, Edinburgh–yes, this is among the autobiographical parts) and so that is part of it (we were not taught to skim, but shown the lines at high speed via a slide projector), but all the same it can be hard to muster the energy to find books not related to my research or my curriculum. Books for pleasure, in other words.

This, of course, is a trap, and should be fought. So today I fought.

I’d gone out to the Post Office today for an errand, to find it dark due to Veteran’s Day, and with the time I’d allotted, went to my local bookstore, Amherst Books, where I found Refresh, Refresh. This is a graphic novel, based on a story by Benjamin Percy, and tells the story of the sons of three soldiers, all friends, and the turmoil of living life with a father who’s off at war. It’s one of the most honest things I’ve read about what the lives of these boys are like, and the ending is devastating. I’ve just met Percy recently and am now also looking forward to his new collection, of the same title.

Yes, all you’d have to do is watch CNN to decide you were never going to use Twitter–few things make me despair like seeing an anchor read reactions off Twitter–but for writers and literary feeds, if you use it right, it’s like having a crowd as your research intern–researching what you don’t know or wouldn’t think to look for but still want to know. Think of each entry as being like an electronic catalog card, for something you weren’t looking for explicitly but are happy to find. This is more true now with the list function. Today for example, Matthew Hunte shared a find from the Believer–Donald Barthelme’s syllabus, 81 books he wanted his students to read (pictured here). Matthew is, in the short time I’ve known him, one of my favorite people on there, and I highly recommend following his feed.

Many of the titles on the Barthelme list were familiar, but there was one I noticed I’d always seen but never read: The Changeling, by Joy Williams. I’m something of a Williams Completist, owning even the guide to the Florida Keys she wrote, but this had always escaped me, and it turns out, from this post over at Paper Cuts, there was a reason: when it came out, Anatole Broyard destroyed it in a review, and it faded out of sight. Last year, though, the Fairy Tale Press brought it out again in a 30th Anniversary edition. And soon it will be mine.

If you’re interested, here is an interview at Bookslut with Tao Lin interviewing Joy Williams on the occasion of the reissue. Kate Bernheimer, the publisher at Fairy Tale, is the one who edited me in the anthology Brothers and Beasts, with my essay “Kitsune”, about the fox demons in Edinburgh.

Well – to say that things didn’t go as planned would be understating the change in direction that occurred last week. The goal was 12,500 words… and although I almost hit 5,000 I’ve decided that I have to change my project so now I am down to a big fat ZERO!

Nothing like starting from the beginning…again.

My original project was formed months ago – but I found as I forced myself to painfully write word after word – that I just wasn’t interested in it. This new story idea – a Horror story no less – was possessing my mind. And although I haven’t written a word of it yet – it was all I wanted to think about. I would have random thoughts, plot points, ideas on scenes or characters while I was drifting off to sleep. I would imagine conversations between my characters while in the shower. Who am to say no to the muse when it visits?

The really fun part of this project is that it is going to have a nontraditional form.

My idea is to write it in first person as blog posts – and if possible unfold in real time. A little like a serialized novel or the novels structured as letters from the last centuries. It will provide some interesting restrictions and problems to solve as the plot progresses. I am very fond of the idea of the unreliable narrator. Nikolai Gogol was the crown prince of the unreliable narrator with a dash of magical realism. “Diary of a Madman” is still one of my favorite short stories and just thinking about “The Nose” has me off in a fit of giggles. The idea that a man’s nose would take off and start impersonating an official… okay still laughing.  

Not that my main character will be, by her nature, unreliable – but the audience will be viewing all of the action through her words, her eyes, and her mental filter. By default we should wonder just what is happening to her and what she is or isn’t telling us.

Then there are the horror aspects – Poe, Lovecraft, M. R. James, not to mention the contribution of Henry James, Guy de Maupassant, O. Henry, Saki, and Edith Wharton (to name just a few). Okay – so I’m a bit of a classicist when it comes to tales of terror and the supernatural. But so much of what has been written in the latter part of the 20^th Century and first part of the 21^st owe these writers. They took the dark tales told around the fire and molded them into a literary form. Rereading them will be a joy – not to mention this gives me an excuse to watch “The Shining” and “The Changeling” again!

So – there is much to do. Much research, development, plotting, writing, dreaming, and writing to do. I now am looking at 50,000 words in just over three weeks and the holidays are fast approaching…. Yes. Crazy am I. But a good brand of crazy – I hope.

 Next Sunday I’ll check in again and let you know how I did.

 ~ Tess

posted by:  audra

what, in god’s name, does it take to make a good horror film these days?!  i don’t get it.  every single one of them is bad.  sometimes they start out okay, and then inevitably, something really fucking retarded happens at the end to ruin the whole thing for you.   this year cuntington octhorror fest was a bit of a disappointment.  some good, some bad….we mostly just ran out of time for more of the good ones.  which is fine; lots of entertaining & such…but still, i miss my saturday evenings in frump-wear, watching hours & hours of bone-sawing, eye-gouging deliciousness.  here are a few highlights of le cuntington octhorrorfest 2009:

first let’s take the much-hyped paranormal activity.  after seeing the trailer online, and then going through all the effort to ‘demand it’ in our beloved pdx, i thought it was going to be thee best movie about a haunting ever made.  sam & i went with a couple of friends last week, and i was nearly clawing the spanx right off my thighs–i was that  excited for it.   in case you missed trailer, here it is:

right?!   it looks good!  blair witch mockumentary style with a cast of nobodies & a disembodied presence lifting the sheets!  yes!  no.  “scary as hell.” &  ”the scariest movie of the year.” ?!  really…?  there’s too much talking at the beginning; lots of annoying banter, which some reviewers found “funny”.  the girl–katie–gets old real  quick.  she claims she’s been followed by a ghost or something her whole life, and the activity in their house has picked up.  so, katie & her boyfriend micah begin to document all of this, hoping to catch something on camera.  my favorite parts were the night-time playbacks of their bedroom during sleep…but mostly you’re just left waiting for something to happen.  i won’t ruin it for you, but the ending is terrible.  everyone amongst us in the theater was literally laughing out loud(!).  there were no ending credits, & the lights never came on…so we all just sat there waiting.  one person asked, “is that it?”  another replied, “god, i hope so.”  let that be a warning to you.

the haunting in connecticut. 

did you see the docudrama this is based on?  it’s done by the discovery channel, those little reenacted tales of hauntings, appropriately called a haunting.  (which by the by, have moved to tuesdays at 11am now!)  anyway, so we saw the documentary-thing this film was based on–a haunting in connecticut–and liked it.  really liked it.  it’s about a boy whose name escapes me a the moment–paul i think?–who has cancer.  the mother spends hours & hours every day bringing him back & forth from their home to the hospital, and opts to rent a house that’s closer to the hospital, to make it easier on her son.  eventually the whole family moves in, and they all experience paranormal goings-on in the house; a former funeral home.  the movie, however, makes it appear that it’s only paul who is experiencing these things & chalks it up to his cancer treatment & medication…like he’s hallucinating.  they stray so far away from the original story, that i found it ridiculous.  lots of special effects in poor-taste, too, which is never okay.  it started out good, it could’ve ended well, and they ruined it.  based on true events!

the changeling.

this one’s a real gem.  it’s scary, has a sordid plot and george c. scott.  a 1980 film about a man who moves into a gigantic abandoned mansion after seeing his entire family bite the dust.  he soon discovers that he is not alone in the house & that he’s being contacted by the spirit of a young girl.  drama ensues! 

the strangers.

okay…this isn’t new to us, but sam & i rewatch it every time it’s on–and it’s always scary.  there is nothing more frightening to me than the thought of home invasion.  this is one of my all-time favorite films about just that:  liv tyler (i know, i know…) and her boyfriend are staying at his family’s cabin in the woods.  they come back to the cabin after a little soiree at like, 4am, have a huge fight, and then hear a knock at the door.  “is tamara there?”  sweet jesus, if anyone comes to your door and asks for tamara, shoot them in the head & get the fuck out of there!  anyways…so, from then on, liv & her boyfriend are tormented from the outside by a group of people wreaking havoc on their nerves.  sounds dumb, but it’s awesome all the way through, and truly nail-bitingly intense.  but! as we learned before, writers & directors are the experts of fucking up endings:  this one ends retardedly as well…but it’s still worth seeing.  inspired by true events!

the mist.

i refuse to even post the trailer; sweet god almighty…how i made it through this entire film, i will never know.  it was cold out?  we made grilled cheeses?  it was a sunday afternoon & nothing else was on?  whatever–there’s still no excuse.  possibly the WORST MOVIE EVER.   a bunch of mismatched hillbillies get locked in a supermarket while the earth is being taken over by gigantic, genetically fucked insects developed by the military.  the guy from hung stars, as well as marcia gay hardenup for film roles.  hung takes a risky move near the end & it almost  made the movie worth my time…but that’s 2 hours of my life i will never, ever get back. 

the cottage.

it’s british!  british-horror, which means it’s kinda funny!  in a good way!  the short version:  2 brothers kidnap a blonde slut, who who’s daddy’s a stripclub kingpen, or something.  the two don’t really know what they’re doing, and cute little british hijinks unfold.  a kind of leatherface shows up at some little cottage up the way–the very same cottage a couple of characters try to find refuge in–and MORE hijinks unfold & shovels fly!  blood, decapitation & cleverly delivered humor.   sounds dumb, but it’s totally kinda really good. 

the moral is this:  don’t let bad horror films ruin your halloween next year!  stick to the good ones:  the shining, wolf creek, poltergeist, the amityville horror, texas chainsaw massacre, friday the 13th & halloween.  the ORIGINALS, you guys!  don’t fall for the remade crap.   and if you want b-movies– cheerleader camp, sleepaway camp & sorority house massacre!  you will love them.  i love you & you’re very welcome.  you can buy me a drink or something later…our little secret.

Now that many of us here have mysteriously turned our collective clocks back one hour thus welcoming the dark of night at a frightfully early hour, and with a nod towards holiday marketing, filmmaker Martin Scorcese has shared with us his list of the eleven scariest horror movies of all time, to be viewed, preferably, while one is alone in a large, dark, unfamiliar house.

You’re certain to recognize some of the titles, others perhaps not.  Here’s the list: 1)The Haunting; 2)Isle of the Dead; 3)The Univited; 4)The Entity; 5)Dead of Night; 6)The Changeling; 7)The Shining; 8)The Exorcist; 9)Night of the Demon; 10)The Innocents and, naturally, 11)Psycho. 

Surprised?  Startled?  Aghast?  Well, the inimitable Daily Beast has all the gory details, including clips from each of the films.  What more could one ask for?

“11 Scariest Horror Movies of All Time”, by Martin Scorcese, in the Blogs & Stories section of The Daily Beast.

nothingisinvisible@live.fr

Changeling, The (1980)
★★★ / ★★★★

Initially, I thought this was going to be a ghost story like the truly horrific “The Shining” (which I was excited for), but toward the end it ended up being more like “The Ring” (which I wasn’t as excited for). Directed by Peter Medak, “The Changeling” was about a man who loves to play the piano (George C. Scott) and his grief for losing his wife and daughter. After about four months of their death, with the help of a friend (Trish Van Devere), he decided to move in to a creepy historical mansion to work on his music and to move on from the tragedy. However, the house would not let him work or heal because it would make strange noises, play the piano when he left the room, open the door ever so slowly as he composed music, and throw his daughter’s ball down the stairs… even after he seemingly got rid of it. Those truly scary moments (aided by a haunting soundtrack) made this film worth watching. However, I did not enjoy the last third as much because it reminded me of “The Ring” (even though I enjoyed that movie). Granted, this was made first but the whole well being buried under a house was too much of a distraction for me so it definitely took me out of the experience. If I were to pick a favorite scene in this picture, it would hands down has to be the séance scene when Scott, the medium, and others finally made contact with the ghost. It was done in such a scary manner which reminded me of the exorcism scene in “The Exorcist.” I tried not to blink in fear that if I closed my eyes, something would suddenly appear in a dark corner in the living room (I saw the movie with all the lights out). I’ve heard all too often that this is not known by many, especially my generation. I think it definitely deserves to be seen, especially the fans of horror films, because it was able to generate genuine scares without sacrificing the story. This is a very good haunted house picture that could have been as good as “The Shining” if it had been longer (perhaps a tour of the deeply atmospheric house?) and the whole bit about the well was eliminated. But then again I’m just being picky about the difference between “good” and “great” (to warn those who are expecting “The Shining”-level filmmaking). Don’t get me wrong, this is still a must-see.

The Parallax View website has taken on a mighty, and mightily welcome, project: the online posting of the contents of Movietone News, one of the “little film magazines” that lived in the 1970s. Published by the Seattle Film Society under the editorship of Richard T. Jameson, future editor of Film Comment, the magazine appeared from 1971 to 1981, along the way gaining admirers such as Robert Altman, Andrew Sarris, and Molly Haskell, who called it “the best publication on film in the English language.”

I first pored over old issues of Movietone News in the periodical racks at the University of Washington library, completely taken with its short reviews and meaty longer pieces. A couple of years later I was writing for MTN, much to my astonishment (my first real, honest-to-Jehovah published movie review was a skeptical short take on Star Trek–The Motion Picture). Seeing my name listed on the Movietone masthead for the first time as a “Contributing Writer” was one of the very large moments in my young life.

But even if I hadn’t ended up writing for the magazine, I would cherish its movie literacy, its film-for-film’s-sake approach, and its slightly hothouse sense of being a haven for personal critical voices. Parallax View instigator Sean Axmaker, with Jameson’s approval and participation, is rolling out the MTN back issues in reverse order; thus the final issue is on deck first. An intro page is here.

The longer pieces in this issue include a warm conversation with that splendid character actor Strother Martin, and a quite wonderful “interview” with John Sayles–actually a long transcription of an appearance by Sayles before a U of W screenwriting class in 1980, around the time Return of the Secaucus Seven had come out (I was in that quarter-long class, which also featured appearances by Jonathan Demme and the Airplane! guys; the ambitious undertaking had been co-organized by Jeff Dowd, the irrepressible publicist who would later gain fame as “The Dude,” the real-life basis for the Coen brothers’ Lebowskian fiction). PDFs of the original magazine are also clickable as you read through the Parallax postings.

I post links to my own reviews below because that’s what I do on The Crop Duster, not because these deserve more attention than the other pieces; I hope they will lead people to read more MTN. Authors have been offered the chance to amend their now-ancient work, but I declined (although there’s a factual correction in my Coal Miner’s Daughter review). I think these things should stand as they were, for better or worse. I was extremely young. These were my Quickies on:

The Changeling.

Coal Miner’s Daughter.

The Big Red One.

Can’t Stop the Music.

Best Boy.

When Parallax reels the magazine back into the 1970s, I think people will newly appreciate the richness of this amazing magazine, which deserves its place in any account of the glory years of American film criticism. Welcome back, Movietone News.

-

beatrice: laura nagel
de flores: edmund digby jones
alsemero: george chilcott
vermandero: liam mulvey
alonzo: jimmy walters
tomazo: james bober
diaphanta: laura marston
jasperino: nathan wood
antonio: pierre tailleux
lollio: rory greenfield
isabella: naomi stafford
alibius: james huntrods

directed by nick coupe
assistant director: grace wright
produced by claire martin and emily anne mcculloch for leeds university theatre group

riley smith hall – january 2009

* * * *
leeds student newspaper

‘an artistic and mystical beauty’
‘a flair for originality‘

-

[Please Note: This is Appendix B of my book, "The Jim Morrison Myth: How a Man Became a God," which was originally entitled, "Lord Jim: Mythos of a Rock Ikon."   You can buy the book at Lulu.com :

http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/the-jim-morrison-myth/6344919

Also, before you begin reading, take a look at the following pictures and note the parallels between Jim Morrison as "LA Woman," and Shiva Nataraja...]

“Remember When We Were in Africa?”

The LA Woman Phenomenon

(unfinished)

Before I had read much about the Doors and the making of their records, etc., I was convinced that Morrison and the other Doors had planned LA Woman as their swansong.   It almost seemed as if both Morrison and the band knew that this was Morrison and the band’s final fling together, and soon their beloved band/ring leader would be gone for good.  There are just too many hints to Jim’s grand unraveling, and even a sense that he was on his way to Africa.  Like I said, it almost seemed as if he and the band were conspiring together and leaving some clues here and there on the last record.

The album is a blues record disguised as a rock and roll album.  While only half of the ten songs are pure blues, almost all of the other songs are based on a blues progression of sorts.  For instance, Riders on the Storm and Love Her Madly use a blues progression and incorporates jazz elements (it is not that Bo Diddley covers the latter song on Stoned Immaculate); Hyacinth House repeats the first line of each verse twice as per the blues; even LA Woman, for all its jazz-inspired elements has Morrison sounding like an old blues master.  All of this is not so strange as the Doors, like so many of the rock artists in the sixties, had been heavily influenced by African-American music.  But even more than this, the Doors had been planning to do a blues album, and Morrison apparently didn’t want to do anything but blues at that point.  Already on the Doors record prior to this one, Morrison Hotel, for which Morrison wrote most of the lyrics and the music, one can detect a movement toward the blues; the record ends with “Maggie M’gill,” a blues number which ends with Morrison singing:

I’m an old blues man

And I think that you understand

I’ve been singing the blues

Ever since the world began

Now it hardly needs saying that the blues was brought to this country by the slaves who were inhumanly taken from their homes in Africa.  Morrison knew this and probably thought of Africa as not only the birthplace of the blues, but of humanity.  Some early indications of his thinking include the enigmatic line at the end of “Wild Child” (on the Soft Parade) in which Morrison says, “Remember When We Were in Africa?”  This one sentence does as much for the Morrison mythology as that other famous spoken line, “I am the Lizard King, I can do anything” at the end of “Not to Touch the Earth” (part of “Celebration of the Lizard” on Absolutely Live).  The line about Africa now only fuels the fire of those who want to believe that Morrison somehow escaped death and stardom and is now living somewhere on that continent.

There are some who don’t make so much of the “Remember when we were in Africa?” line. Linda Ashcroft, who is the daughter of Morrocan immigrants, says that the song “Wild Child” was based on a poem that Jim had written for her and that when asked about the line at the end, Jim apparently told her that he was referring not to our collective human origins (the Leakeys), but much more narrowly to some pictures of Ashcroft’s North African family that she had shown Morrison.  But if Morrison really said this, it seems to me that must have been up to his old trickster self.  No doubt the line also referred to the time spent looking at the pictures with Ashcroft, but it seems highly unlikely that Morrison was not also referring to our “wild,” primitive origins.  And for that matter, “Wild Child” is not just about Ashcroft — it is far more archetypal than that, both of the sixties Flower Child and of the divine Dionysian ecstatic child of the forest, screaming wild.

Morrison revisits the Africa theme on the last album, both implicitly (by singing the blues like an old master) and explicitly on a fascinatingly beautiful partly spoken-word blues, The WASP (Texas Radio and the Big Beat).  The song gives many indications that Morrison was deeply longing for an end to stardom and a final release into that pure land of light and bliss that Africa symbolized:

The negroes in the forest, brightly feathered

And they are saying, forget the night

Come live with us in forests of azure

Out here on the perimeter there are no stars

Out here we is stoned, immaculate

The song is also a fond and touching farewell to his friends, the other three Doors (as well as his other close friends, no doubt):

I love the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft

We have built pyramids in honor of our escaping.

Pyramids, indeed.  If you will bear with this exegesis, it is not only Morrison who is escaping, it is his friends, the other Doors, and whoever else cares to come along.  But it is a thin raft – not too many people will follow:

But you’ll never follow me

From where are they escaping?  America, which is Egypt — the biblical House of Bondage:

This is the land where the pharaohs died

Whither are they headed?   Down South, to Africa proper:

Wow, I’m sick of doubt

Live in the light of certain

South

***

He went down south and crossed the border

left the chaos and disorder

back there over his shoulder

If Egypt stands for America, Africa is thus also Latin America (L’America), a symbol of freedom (especially in the sixties, where hippies fled to escape the law – listen to “Hey Joe”).  But Morrison isn’t only talking about escaping from the American Dream, he is talking about the death of what he calls the “Western Dream” of freedom and progress:

I’ll tell you this…

No eternal reward will forgive us now

For wasting the dawn

As I mentioned, “The WASP” is only the most explicit expression of Morrison’s longing to get “Back to Africa.”  In fact, from the very first song, “The Changeling,” a hard-driving, blues-inspired rant which has Morrison grunting and screaming as good as James Brown, Morrison begins to reveal his personal “End Time” mythology, telling us he’s about to bust out and get loose (he used the blues format to tell us he had to “rock ‘n’ roll”):

I live uptown

I live downtown

I live all around

I had money

I had none

I had money

I had none

But I never been so broke

that I couldn’t leave town

I’m a changeling

See me change

The song could mean a lot of things.  One interpretation that I would suggest is that Morrison is saying he is free — he is not bound by money or by conventional societal stratification or success — and thus he can change at will.  But money in particular seems to have been for him the epitome of all that was antithetical to freedom and change, and being free desire for money meant freeing the soul:

I want to tell you people about something I know –

Money beats soul every time, come on!

He’d been “broken” to a certain degree by a system which values money (and stardom and power) over “soul,” but in “The Changeling” he is declaring that he’s not completely broke and can get out when the time comes.  And the time had come.  The song ends with Morrison somewhat eerily chanting:

I’m leaving town

On a midnight train

Gonna see me change

Change, Change, Chaaaange!

According to conventional standards, Morrison’s contempt for wealth and power seem inane if not crazy, but again, there was a method to his madness:

I am not mad

I am interested in freedom

In another song on the first side of the album, “Been Down So Long,” which is more of a pure blues, Morrison again sings that it’s time to get up and get away:

I been down so goddamn long

That it feels like up to me

I been down so very damn long

That it feels like up to me

Why don’t one of you people

Come here and set me free?

One might say that Morrison wrote the last line with his audience in mind, still thinking that he and the other Doors would perform their new record live (and in fact they did, but only two shows).   On the other hand, it could be argued that the fact that the song’s title is taken from that of Richard Farina’s first and only novel, he having died in a motorcycle crash two days after it was published at the age of 3??, is another hint that Morrison was also headed in the same direction.  In any case, I think the song gives more indication that Morrison was longing for a change.

Another song on the first side with much clearer intent is Hyacinth House.

On the first album, The Doors, Morrison had sung:

This is the End

Beautiful friend

This is the End

My only friend,

the End

On the second album:

When the music’s over

Turns out the lights…

For the music is your special friend

Dance on fire as it intends

Music is your only friend

Until

the End

On the fourth album, the Soft Parade:

Coda Queen

Now be my bride

Now on the last album:

And I’ll say it again

I need a brand new friend

The End

As I noted, Morrison had mentioned to some of his friends that he was going to split L.A. and go live in Africa incognito.  In order to pull it off he was going to change his name and he came up with Mr. Mojo Risin’ as a perfect anagram for “Jim Morrison.”  In the middle of the title track of “L.A. Woman” Morrison reveals his new alias:

Mr. Mojo Risin’

Mr. Mojo Risin’

Got to keep on Risin’

Risin’ Risin’

[also sounds like “ridin’” and “writin’]

I think some people fail to see the irony in this, as with many of Jim’s poems and lyrics.  If he really was serious about using “Mr. Mojo Risin’” as an alias, would he really be so foolish as to tell the world about it?  It seems to me he was just having fun, adding yet another element to his personal mythology, laughing at the people who were eating it up, salt-less.

On the other hand, how prophetic this all was!  For the three decades since his passing on, Morrison has certainly kept on risin’, both literally (all of the Morrison sightings, etc.) and figuratively in the minds and hearts of those who attentively listen to the Doors music and read the vast and growing literature on the band.  Morrison sang “Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection,” but there appear to be many out there (including myself) who haven’t cancelled their’s.

NOTE:

Riders on the Storm – most likely from Hart Crane’s poem “Praise For An Urn” – “Delicate riders of the storm” (see Fowlie, p. 91)

“Our life will never end”

In 1928, Gordon Stewart Northcott, kidnapped, raped, and murdered as many as twenty young boys at his family’s poultry ranch outside Wineville, California (now called Mira Loma), which is southeast of Los Angeles. Northcott had the help of his mother, Sarah Louise Northcott.

Northcott brutally raped his victims and when he grew bored with the boys, he axed them to death and buried their bodies near the chicken coop. Northcott eventually confessed to at least five of the murders. Gordon’ s mother not only allowed the rapes and murders to take place at the ranch, but at her trial, she admitted to helping her son to murder one boy, hitting the boy in the head and then burying the child in a hole next to the chicken coop. The same hole where they discarded sick and dead chickens.

During the 1929 trial, Northcott’s mother, Sarah Louise Northcott, told the jury that she was not the mother of Gordon, but his grandmother. She explained that her husband had raped their daughter, Winnefred, and that Gordon was the child resulting from that rape. Gordon Northcott even implied that he and his mother (grandmother) Sarah were incestuous and that his father had also molested him (this would explain the root cause of Gordon’s crimes against children). Sarah admitted at the trial that she would do anything for Gordon. Yet, Gordon says he was sexually abused by his father and Sarah did not help her son. Obviously, “doing anything” for her son (or grandson) did not include protecting him from being raped as a boy.

Gordon Northcott was convicted of rape and murder, and hanged in 1930. His mother was also found guilty of murdering the one boy and was sentenced to life in prison. Clint Eastwood made a film about the murders called Changeling. The thing that angered me about the film was that Eastwood completely omitted the fact that Gordon’s mother had facilitated the rapes and murders, and that she committed murder on one of the boys. The only way I found out about the mother’s participation in the crimes was by researching the case after watching Changeling.

Why did Clint Eastwood choose to leave out the fact that a woman was part of the crimes? Why did he change the story by deleting the mother’s participation in brutal rape and child murder? I was very angry after I learned that the mother played a huge part in the crimes. Clint Eastwood chose to discharge her of any role by not including this vital information in his film. Why does society continue to give a free pass to women who commit crimes against children? Why was Gordon hanged and his mother was not? In all probability, she was the one who allowed him to be sexually abused as a child, subsequently leading to his brutality towards children as an adult. If Gordon was raped as a child, then it was his mother who allowed it, and thus, she also should have been hanged.

For clarity, let me say that, for many reasons, I don’t condone the death penalty but this case took place decades ago and the sentences have already been given –and the perpetrators are long dead. So if I am to comment on this case, it is to say that this woman should have suffered the same consequences as her son. Yet, as in today’s society, she was given a lighter sentence. I have no more sympathy for women than I do for men who commit heinous crimes against children. Why are women often excused, given lighter sentences -or none at all- just because they happen to be of the female sex? If it were up to me, I would give women even harsher sentences for their crimes because, according to nature, women are supposed to be the protectors, the nurturers, the givers of life. When a woman, especially a mother, violates that natural order of things, she is even guiltier than a man. If Sarah had stopped the sexual abuse of her son years earlier, the little boys killed in the chicken coop crimes would never have been victimized by Gordon Northcott.

Notes: The Wineville Chicken Coop Murders, Kristal Hawkins, Tru TV Crime Library

If there’s one thing I love more than reading, it’s movies. I find nothing more appealing than being transported off to a far off land, seeing things that could only come from a fertile imagination. Whether it’s considered a classic like “Citizen Kane” or down the rungs of the ladder like “Tromeo and Juliet”, if it keeps my interest, elicits a response from me-even if it’s disgust-I’m a happy man. I’m certainly no film snob, that’s for sure, enjoying almost anything well written, intelligent, or at the very least not taking itself so seriously.

With that said, I watched “The Changeling” last night; the 1980 haunted house pic starring George C. Scott giving one of his patented great performances. Scott plays composer John Russell, who after losing his wife and daughter in a tragic accident, rents an insanely huge house to compose not only new music, but to compose his life into something making sense as well. Writers Russell Hunter and William Gray manage to avoid most of the pitfalls of the haunted house genre. Their characters are intelligent, well written, and above all believable (well mostly). When a character does something, not only is it in keeping in character, but it makes sense; I can imagine myself behaving the way most of the characters do, as opposed to say, the dimwits of “Amityville Horror”.  It’s a straightfoward story, that relies solely on atmosphere to tell its story. There’s a deliberateness to it that many of today’s viewers would probably find boring. There are no fast cuts, hand held, pass the bucket I’m going to throw up, camera moves, and no useless jump scares. I haven’t seen “The Changeling” in a dozen years or more, and the fact it works so well, and to my mind, towers over Kubrick’s “The Shining” (which was released the same year) is testament to its absolute brilliance. Is it perfect, no. Without wanting to give anything away, there is one character who seems a bit one dimensional, and almost a stock villain, but even then, you go along for the ride. “The Changeling” is without a doubt, one of the best haunted house movies ever, and certainly my favorite.

From the sublime, we go to the ridiculous: Troma Films “Poultrygeist”.  and really, that’s all you need to know. It’s a Troma movie. Expect lots of nudity, lesbianism, gore, enough offensive jokes to send the politically correct into seizures, and song.

Yes, I said song, as “Poultrygeist” is also a musical. While I’m sure Lloyd Kauffman would bristle if he read this, you don’t go to a Troma movie for plot. you go for everything I mentioned above (except maybe for the lesbianism). The story is simply the canvas for the Troma team to splash copious amounts of blood, guts, shit, jism, organs and zombie chickens. In fact, I’m hard-pressed to think of any other Troma film that has this much grue onscreen. With some pretty clever killings, lots of raunchy, scatalogical humor, “Poultrygeist” proves to be the best Troma film to date.

Just don’t eat any of their chicken.

I apologize for the “passcode protected” posts. I just had some things I needed to get out of my head. It definitely hasn’t been my favorite week….that I WILL say.

In light of all the serious writing I’ve been doing, this is going to be a random fun post. I don’t want to worry about things being cohesive or particularly insightful. My brain (and my heart) just can’t take it! So I bring to you my very first blog post in the form of a list.

1. I watched a couple excellent movies yesterday. The first was called Frost/Nixon. I will admit I never really knew much about Watergate or Nixon but I do now. The movie was about David Frost (a journalist/talk show host) who had the opportunity to interview Nixon after he left the White House. It’s a true story, and from what I can gather, very historically accurate. One of the special features on the dvd was part of the real interview. They did a really good job at re-creating it. This is one of those movies where you feel more intelligent after watching….you feel like you learned something. I would highly recommend it. The second movie was The Changeling. I really enjoyed it. It keeps you guessing. It too is based on a true story (I always love those kinds of movies!). It is about a woman who’s son is kidnapped. The LAPD end up returning a boy to her. She quickly realizes he isn’t her son but the police insist that it is him. Where it goes from there is simply mind-blowing. I also love movies set in the 1920s and 1930s.

2. I’ve been reading a lot of blogs lately having to do with home decor, baking, and such. Being that I don’t have a home of my own (nor will I anywhere in the near future), it’s kind of funny. Of course I dream of the day when I too will have a family and a home of my own to decorate. My current favorite is called Pink and Polka Dot.

3. I officially have two nanny positions for the fall, but I can’t help thinking there could be something better out there, so I haven’t stopped looking. I visit Craigslist daily to see if there are any new nanny positions listed.

4. I have taken SO many walks this past week. The weather has been so warm this week (for the Seattle area, anyway) and it has been a little miserable to be inside at times. I found myself wandering through the woods, enjoying nature, and listening to music. Being outside makes me feel alive. I’m aware that that sounds incredibly dramatic, but it’s quite true. There’s just nothing like sunshine, fresh air, and large bodies of water. It’s good for the soul, I think.

5. I have begun a project for my mom’s 50th birthday (which is coming up at the beginning of August). It has been rather time consuming, but fun at the same time. It’s nice to be productive.

6. My boyfriend is going on a camping trip this weekend. You may think that would make me jealous (especially since I have been dying to go camping for the last, oh, few years), however I am not jealous in the slightest. See, it is a GUYS camping trip and I am content to be nowhere near it. They will have a lot of fun I am sure and I will enjoy hearing the stories when they come back.

7. Since said boyfriend is going to be out of town, I am considering going to Aquafest. I may ACTUALLY go. What is Aquafest, you ask? Well, it’s the festival the town I grew up in does every year. It is definitely a small town event….however EVERYONE in the Lake Stevens area seems to go to it. My little sister is marching in the parade, so it would be nice to go watch her….she would love it if I came.

8. I am debating whether or not I want to move out of my mom’s house first or buy a car first. So far, David and my mom think. I need to get a car first. I’m inclined to agree with them. If I buy a car FIRST, I won’t have to try to save up for one while I’m also paying rent….that would take a LOT longer. I am excited that it will most likely only take me 3 months or so to save up for one. I figure I can have about $2500-$3000 saved up by then. It won’t be a spectacular car, but I should be able to get something reasonably reliable. I can’t wait.

9. Me and David are stuck here today. They repaved the parking lot today so his car is stuck in the garage. Kind of annoying…. They seem to always be doing something around here. He insists this is the worst place he’s ever lived in regards to noise. I’m inclined to agree with him….I think the only place I’ve ever lived that was louder was Chicago….and that’s to be expected.

Okay, I think I am done now. I’m starting to get restless and I think a walk is in order.

The most effective fright films most often render their punch from the marriage of two things: stark realism and the director’s ability to penetrate it with the unimaginable. This is certainly the case with the best haunted house pictures.

Robert Wise’s masterpiece of bump-in-the-night shock treatment, The Haunting, is a prime example of girls gone ghastly. In the film, Julie Harris plays a nervous nobody who finds cathartic release at a New England mansion notorious for its supernatural tendencies. Her excitement takes a nose-dive into dementia when troubles at home haunt her all the way to the ghost shack.

Of course, Wise was not the last “non-genre” visionary to take a stab at the concept. In Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining, Mr. Hallorann explains that “…some places are like people…” and that sometimes “…when something happens, it can leave a trace of itself behind.” The haunted house has long been film language for a head full of personal baggage. The concept may be old hat at this point, but there is always wiggle room for a fresh take on the subject.

The haunted house picture is a niche in horror that has been in need of a spectral jump start for years, and first-time Spanish director Juan Antonio Bayona’s The Orphanage just might be the film to do it.

The movie centers around Laura, a woman who returns as an adult to the orphanage where she was raised, with wishes to reopen it with her husband and son. When her son makes an imaginary friend who begins telling him secrets from the orphanage’s sordid past, Laura is forced to peel back the history of her childhood home to make some rather grim discoveries.

Man’s abode has become commonplace landscape for horror films to tread, the world over. The narrative trajectory of Bayona’s film brings to mind pictures like The Changeling (Canada) and The Devil’s Backbone (Mexico), the latter of which weaves a similar tale of phantom orphan justice. Perhaps this is what prompted a producing credit from Devil’s Backbone director Guillermo del Toro. The two films would work beautifully as companion pieces to one another.

Stripped to its skeleton, the movie has all the essential ingredients of any haunt flick: cobwebbed cellars, labyrinthine hallways, plenty of creepy little brats and a seance sequence that would give Zelda Rubinstein a run for the white light. Refreshingly, however, it is not in the bottomless barrel of tired genre clichés that this film fishes for its power. The Orphanage is a picture wrapped tightly in feelings of both crippling dread and staggering loss.

It’s easy to forget how horror can sometimes pack a much beefier punch when it’s not just our characters’ supple flesh that’s being shredded to ribbons. Bayona paints his characters with deep emotional wounds. So deep, that the supernatural shocks in the film do more than just singe your senses — they hit you right in the gut.

Last night I went and saw Drag Me To Hell(2009). I really enjoyed this movie. It felt like an old school scary movie. Which relied mostly on sound effects rather than the fancy stuff or a hatchet wielding maniac. Sam and Ivan Raimi wrote a stellar movie and Sam’s direction really felt like the good ole Evil Dead days. I don’t want to give anything away so I’m just going to say go see this movie. It is suspenseful, I almost wet myself. The story and acting all good good good. My last thought on this one,I wanted to call PETA.

Also since we are talking movies a good rental is The Changeling(1980) starrring George C. Scott. Not that rubbish with Angelina Jolie which is not the same story. The Changeling is one of my all time favorite ghost stories and it still scares me to boot. So George C. Scott’s character loses his wife and child in a horrible accident thus making him move and start over. Well let’s just say the house he moves into has plans for poor George. This movie is way better than all that Ring and Grudge stuff.

I came back from the dry cleaner’s last week and on the approach to my house I saw a crowd of people outside, mostly midgets.

When I got to the front door I realised it was Angelina Jolie and her children.

I froze, with all the cellophane-wrapped hangers sliding off my arm. But I soon remembered myself:

‘Please, come in. I’ve just picked up some stem ginger biscuits from Sainsbury’s.’

Angelina didn’t say anything.

‘From the Taste the Difference range,’ I reassured her.

I knew it wasn’t the best introduction but, to be honest, I was worried about all the Jolie-Pitts fitting into my mouse house.

In the event, Bruno organised them into a football team so Angelina and I could get better acquainted in the kitchen.

I asked her if she flew herself over because I know she’s got her pilot’s licence. But she said her Cirrus SR22 only has 4 seats and the gang wouldn’t fit.

‘I’m hoping to use it more in my humanitarian work,’ she said and looked like she might like to continue on the subject.

So maybe, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have jumped in:

‘Or you could do your own aerial recces when you’re looking for another baby to buy.’

After that she sort of turned her head and stared in the corner for a while so I guessed she wanted to have a look at the cookbooks in the cabinet.

I told her all about Delia Smith and Jamie Oliver. She seemed interested. (Either that or she’s a good actress!)

The truth is I can’t make bechamel sauce without thinking about her because I read recently that she only likes to introduce another baby to the family once the new one has been absorbed.

So lasagnes remind me of her and Jen Aniston at the same time now, which is bizarre.

I thought about fessing up about the mock blog dialogue I did between her unborn twins in the womb but decided it wouldn’t do either of us any favours.

Instead we talked about fishing regulations in the Norwegian sea, dolls house miniatures and Winona Ryder.

All the way through, she wore the same expression as the one at the Oscars. And in The Changeling. And in photos of her with Brad.

When I considered her difficult relationship with Jon Voight, self-harming, two divorces, bisexual affair, 6 children, multiple tattoos and the vampire/incest/adultery rumours that have hounded her, it struck me how calm she was and then out of nowhere,

‘Do you believe in aliens?’ I said out loud.

‘If people want to believe in aliens, good for them.’

God, this woman is liberal and traditional and open-minded and monogamous all at the same time. Amazing.

We took a stroll around the garden and I couldn’t help staring at all the tattoos on her back. I was particularly confused by one that read, ‘Quod me nutrit me destruit’.

Now I know it means, ‘What nourishes me destroys me’ but at the time I thought it meant, ‘Kick me. I’m nutritious but destructive’.

Finally, I plucked up the courage to ask her a naughty question:

‘My friend was at a screening of ‘The Bone Collector’ and the wife of the Australian DOP shouted out, ‘Struth, she’s got lips like a vagina!’

Does that shock you?’

‘Nothing shocks me. Brad loves my mouth.’

‘Maybe it’s for the same reason,’ she added mischievously.

I went bright red and pointed to a cat in the garden.

Presently, Bruno brought the little ones downstairs and helped them into an electricity-fuelled limousine.

We had a hug and then she grabbed me with five of her bony digits.

‘One last tip. When Gwyneth gets in touch…’

‘But –’ I protested.

‘Don’t pull any of that Hugh Grant crap with me. You know she’s gonna call…

Just watch the potty mouth. She’s a PAP and she’ll think you’re vulgar.’

I appreciated the word of warning and yelled, ‘Thanks, Ange!’ after the car.

Then I added ‘elina’, because all of a sudden I had a nasty image in my head of Den Watts’ pikey wife from Eastenders.

Gordon Stewart Northcott and The Changeling
A “Life and Crimes” summary of serial killer Gordon Stuart Northcott.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1730108/gordon_stewart_northcott_and_the_changeling.html

Aria and Jacey

The picture above is one I took with my Blackberry as I was leaving the barn on Sunday.  To me, it epitomizes the blessing of riding in Virginia’s countryside.  Of course, it doesn’t completely capture the actual beauty of the scene.  Nothing is ever as good as what you see with your own eyes.  But the girls were so cute — typical pony girls taking their ponies out for a stroll after their lesson.  Probably talking crazy make believe stuff to incorporate into their ride to make things more fun — a quality kids tend to have that adults really need to tap into from time to time. 

Great weekend.  I really do love the weekend, but who doesn’t?  I always feel especially blessed by my great weekends.  It is rare I have one that I don’t like.  Occasionally, I do have one I don’t like but that typically means that I didn’t get to have a big breakfast, a lot of time with Bob and not enough horse in my day.  If I have those three ingredients, plus some time with a good friend or two, then that is the perfect weekend for me. 

Saturday, I hosted Kimberley’s baby shower at my house.  Not sure if I chronicled this or not but I also hosted her bridal shower at my house.  Since the bridal shower seemed such a success, I pretty much went with the same arrangements but just put a ‘baby’ spin on things. 

For the deck, I rented two high tops for the front corners and two small rounds to go under the tent.  I skirted the tables in pale yellow linens and did white toppers on them.  Since it was a little breezy, I had to use tiny safety pins again to keep the toppers on the tables.  I bought little potted yellow Gerbera daisies to be given as parting gifts to everyone and, like last time, I forgot to tell most people to take them with them. 

The high tops each got a potted daisy placed into a square vase with green tissue paper inside the vase, hiding the ugly label on the pot.  The small rounds had short cylinder vases on them and I put floating daisy heads in them.

I rented the frozen margarita machines, just like last time.  One lime, one sangria, and let me tell you, that sangria is to die for.  This time, I made sure I got a few glasses.  I had the headache to prove it later in the day but took my good ol’ prescription meds and didn’t have the slightest twinge of a headache the following day.

I hung two ferns from the tent, which was handy because they anchored it a bit when some gusts of wind came through.  The weather was gorgeous, even though we had a few passing clouds.  I was so glad to have the tent (I bought it for my sister to replace one I destroyed and borrowed it back) because people congregated mostly out on the deck and sat under the tent.  I love my deck.  It is huge and can hold quite a large crowd comfortably.

Inside, my extensive counter space came in handy again, with tons of room for food set up, allowing people to start on one side and snake around to the other.  There is always food left over so I again got take away pans w/lids for folks to take some home and thankfully, they did.

Christine made the most hysterical cupcakes for dessert.  I’m hoping to get pictures from Kimberley soon so I can post them.  They each had a tiny naked baby on top.  They were awesome and we were all amused.

I got a pretty flower arrangement of daisies, both white and yellow for the gift table.  The florist did a spectacular job on that and put little sprays of purple mixed in.  I sent Kimberley’s mom home with that arrangement.  The gift table was also skirted but in mint green and yellow (they don’t want to know what the sex of the baby is).  I also found the most adorable cloth banner to hang from the table.  It was of tiny baby clothes pinned with tiny clothes pins onto a line.  Very cute.

I got lots of compliments on the house, which was so nice because like everyone, we are constantly doing things to the house and it is nice when people notice and compliment you.  My neighbor Jeanette also came over for a bit.  She’s seen the house come up from scratch and of course, lives in a house similar to mine so she ‘gets’ the challenges we all face in working with our odd floor plans. 

After the shower, Kimberley had plans to go to a birthday party for another friend so I stayed behind to get the house back in order and Jeanette and I watched Changeling.  Good, yet annoying movie, simply because of what the woman went through.  Angelina Jolie was beautiful in it but I swear, my girl needs some milkshakes.  If she ever gets sick, she’s done for. 

I slept like the dead and the following morning, Kimberley and I went to breakfast at Silver Diner again (we’d done so on Saturday as well) and later went to Barnes & Noble so I could get the book, “Eat, Pray, Love” which I’d only heard about recently, which I feel very behind the curve on, given that the book is in paperback now.  I also picked up some books on Paris and some language CDs in French.  ‘Why?’ you ask?  Because I’m going to Paris!!!

I’m taking my niece to Paris for her 16th birthday!  Bob hates to travel international so I decided I had to find a good travelling companion and who better to bring than my niece.  Her 16th is in June so I decided this would be a very nice gift for a milestone birthday.  We are both really excited.  I’m doing all sorts of research and planning and already have quite a sensational itinerary planned.

The neatest thing is that I have two friends in Paris.  One is Mylene and the other is Kristina.  Mylene used to ride Buster for me and Kristina was Tina’s roommate while she lived in DC.  I am really excited about getting to see both of them.  Mylene is an art curator so I’ve asked her to take us on the museum tours and she has also offered to take us to Normandie for the day, where we’ll get to ride on the beach!  I’m beyond excited.  Kristina will arrange a fun dinner with us one night and who knows what else we’ll cook up.

After Kimberley and I did our morning errands, I was off to my riding lesson and she was off to spend Mother’s Day with her mom.  Bob was in New York spending it with his mother for the weekend as well.  The weather was perfect, although a little breezy.  At Jess’s, I got to ride a new horse, Junior, who was just a big goof and so cute.  He’s very attractive and lovely to sit on.  Quite the big boy, nearly 17 hands, if not that and some change. 

We did our usual flatwork, working on some exercises to help Junior specifically, then did some jumping.  I love how I’m getting much more organized on course.  I am more consistently able to stick to my plan that I started out with, rather than just remembering it for the first two jumps then just hoping to get there right the rest of the time.  So, in cases where a different track is suggested, I’m remembering to land, continue straight and head for that track and turn.  Sounds easy enough but when you are out of practice, you tend to just remember the numbers and go.  There is so much to think about when you are on course and so many things change while you are doing it so you have to be able to adjust and have the ability to get back on plan when they do.  Then, there is remembering to not do all the weird habits that you normally do.  Breaking habits is so hard!

I gave Junior a bath and washed his socks until they sparkled (he has four of them).  He was a good boy and enjoyed it.  I dabbed some salve on a boo-boo he had, then put him in his bed for the day.  I headed home and took a nice long nap with Bob, who had returned from NY.  That made it a perfect weekend!