Carnival of Delights

A couple weeks ago I went to the Maynardville Carnival, a great event
on the calendar, and one I don't get to go to as often as I used to.

I always remember Maynardville Carnival as a highpoint of the first
half of the year in my early years. (Says the guy in his twenties.)
Other than my birthday, of course. My attendance at the annual event
was dependent on being invited with by my friend Stephen, and it was a
real family occasion. His parents would settle down in the Greek
stall, and me and Stephen, often with our friend Alastair, then
proceeded to wonder around unsupervised, playing the carnival games,
browsing for second-hand books (hoping for comics and always going
away disappointed), and eating lots of food.

The Maynardville Carnival is a fundraising effort for the Community
Chest, which is 'focused on Restoring Hope and Enhancing Communities
within South Africa'. So while you're enjoying yourself, you know
you're also helping develop those less fortunate. But you're probably
not thinking about that while you're stuffing your face with food and
losing your money on fun carnival games.

One of my favourite parts of the carnival is the book sale. You don't
even have to buy any books to have a good time there, just browsing
through books and magazines from the 60s and 70s can be a real laugh
in itself. I end up walking away with a few books every time, and this
year was no exception. There were many Shakespeare play texts and I
narrowed my choices down to A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Tempest,
and King Henry V. I am currently reading the last one, first time, and
throroughly loving it. My favourite speech is in it, 'Once more unto
the breach...'. And thanks to Peter Anderson, a professor at UCT who
is an expert on Shakespeare, recommended the chorus prologue of Act
IV, which is also quite excellent. (Subsequently I've been told to
read King Henry IV Part 2 by someone else, so I'm getting into lots of
Shakespeare in the near future.)

This year it was only my friend Stephen and I going to the carnival,
and on the last night too. It was a real blast. We went on the Ferris
Wheel, an impressively big affair by South African standards, I think,
and admired the scenery of Wynberg, trying to identify obscure details
in the distance, and find his house. It wasn't visible from the top,
but the general direction was easy to determine, and that was enough.

After that the festivities were kicked into high gear with food at the
Austrian stall. I had meatloaf with mustard and a roll, and Stephen
had eisbein, an ambitious start to the evening. With this we had a can
of Austrian draft, can't remember the name now, but it was
serviceable. I could imagine Arnie drinking it in his youth. This
first meal was followed up by two shots each of schnapps, with the
inevitable references to 'Inglourious Basterds'. Both flavours, I
forget this too, were quite horrid, no better than the burn of
tequila. But it was a good start to the night.

For the rest of the evening we wandered around, had some
chocolate-covered donuts, I had Chinese (with a few admiring glances
from the female Chinese stall manners, unless that was beer goggle
vision impairing my judgement. I smiled back anyway.), with free Black
Labels due to the poor math skills of the guys at the Chinese drinks
stand. They were probably distracted by their intense delight at
people attempting Dragon Breath, or Dragon's Fire, some sort of potent
shooter. Then even more hilarious to them was people doing Suicide, a
line of these killer shooters.

Another funny stall was the Philippines, where they were hosting
karaoke. People could choose their song and sing it for everyone.
There were mixed results. But mostly funny. A highlight of the stall
was later in the evening when we noticed a man dozing, completely
oblivious of the bad singing, just sleeping until he was roused from
his booze-induced stupor.

Stephen tempted me to sing something with him, but I wasn't drunk
enough for that. In hindsight, and actually at the time according to
his argument, there was no better place or time to break my karaoke
cherry, as it were, 'cos that was the most obscure crowd I could've
sung before. Oh well, next year.

(I will update this post with pictures soon.)

Split Focus Part 3

"Just the two of us, then?" Rip Cord asked.

"Yeah, we have to keep this small, and easily deniable, not that you
boys're gonna get captured, right." Hawk said.

"Right." Rip Cord said.

"It's pretty simple: get in, get the stuff, and get out." Hawk slid
two manila envelopes over to Rip Cord and Low-Light.

"What's the stuff?" Low-Light asked.

"A prototype digital device, the particulars are over my head. It was
stolen from a secure government facility eight weeks ago. This is the
first we've heard of it since." Hawk said.

"How did we find it?" Rip Cord asked.

"Enquiries made into the validity of the device were made, and we
managed to track the origins of those enquiries to this base." Hawk
brought up on screen an aerial view of a jungle. Near the edge of the
enlarged photo was a river, and next to it a clearing. Inside the
clearing were several buildings surrounded by a fence on the sides not
facing the river.

"It's located twelve klicks from the ocean. Low-Light, you'll insert
using a SHARC, keeping to the deepest part of the river as you travel
inland. When you are close enough, travel over land to a sniping
position with the best coverage of the base and the river." Hawk said.

"Yes, sir." Low-Light said. He picked up his envelope and started to
look through the included photographs.

"Rip Cord you'll perform a HALO jump, landing in the water several
klicks upriver. From there you'll make your way to the base and,
covered by Low-Light, retrieve the device, and make your way out of
there with it." Hawk said.

"Well, it sounds simple enough. Is Cobra suspected to be involved?"
Rip Cord asked.

"Right now these guys are an independent terrorist group, possibly
with ties to rebels in the country. No connection to Cobra. Although
the break-in is still under investigation." Hawk said.

Low-Light exchanged a glance with Rip Cord. He could see the
anticipation on the other soldier's face and he thought it probably
mirrored his own. It'd been too long. Despite daily training routines
and drills, he felt soft, like he was losing his edge. The tension
between him and his girlfriend was starting to get to him. You saw too
much of someone too regularly and you started to notice the cracks, he
thought. This would give them both some perspective on the
relationship. Not that he'd be doing much thinking while out there.

"I guess that's it. When do we leave?" Low-Light asked.

"Immediately."

--
Sent from my mobile device

Split Focus Part 2

[Note: I am a collector of G.I. Joe action figures, and have loved
them and their mythos for many years, since I was a kid and even more
so now as an adult. I was introduced to online text-based RPG playing
by a friend, and took part in a few G.I. Joe-themed ones. The
opportunity to create new stories with these characters we'd read
about in comics and played with as toys, and create our own characters
to interact with the established ones, was a fun experience. So,
inspired by those days of yore, I want to write a few of my own
adventures, solo, just for fun, and as an release for frustrations.
Here is the second part of, hopefully, a series of adventures with my
favourite Joe: Cooper G. MacBride, aka Low-Light. Also featured,
Wallace A. Weems, aka Rip Cord (note 2: this is the original Rip Cord,
not the idiot version they had in the abortive G.I. Joe live-action
film, portrayed by Marlon Wayans). Without further elaboration.]

The excitement started in his knees. As the time drew nearer he'd need
to stand and do squats to stop from going crazy. He took his mind off
it by thinking of something else.

His thoughts drifted back to mornings at home when he was a teenager,
the smell of breakfast waking him early on weekends. The sounds coming
from the kitchen drew him out of bed, and he all but leapt down the
stairs, enjoying the momentary giddy feeling in his stomach before he
landed on the bottom step.

"You're gonna need all the energy you can get to get through the day,"
his mother would say.

"Don't listen to your mother: full stomach or not, it's all down to
skill and training that'll see you safely on the ground again," his
father retorted, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

The jumpmaster indicated get ready, and Rip Cord was drawn out
of his memories and back into the airplane. He turned toward the rear
of the airplane and did a final check of his equipment; most
importantly he made sure his weapons case was securely strapped to his
right leg. His oxygen mask was in place and he was breathing his
internal air supply.

A green indicator light started to blink and the rear of the airplane
opened up; the jumpmaster indicated prepare to land. Rip Cord
moved to the edge of the opening. It felt like he was going to vomit
his heart into the mask it was beating so hard; his heart beat loud in
his ears, almost drowning out the roar of wind in the cabin.

The light turned from green to red and the jumpmaster gave him the
land signal. Before he'd fully registered the signal Rip Cord
was out of the airplane, and flying. It was the best feeling he ever
had. The mission after was just his way of paying the United States
government back for allowing him to jump out of aircraft for a living.
For now, there was just him, and the wind, and he didn't need anything
else....

Split Focus Part 1

The dull ache in his left thigh was getting worse. Low-Light had
ignored it for over three hours and could continue to do so for
several more. It was almost 04h00 though and he'd need to move fast
soon. Reluctantly he looked away from the eyepiece of his night
vision-enhanced monocular and rolled onto his back. The movement was
slow and took him out of direct line of sight. He lay in tall grass
behind a short tree, it's branches arching, leaves reaching for the
grass.

The sky, filled with stars, was invisible beneath the natural canopy.
Low-Light brought his left knee up to his chest, pulling it closer
still. He breathed out slowly and felt his muscles stretch. The relief
was satisfying, and short-lived: his left wrist vibrated slightly. He
froze, waiting. It happened again. A minor tremor against the inside
of left forearm near his wrist. Beneath a patch on his sleeve was a
pager, and the vibrations were the signal that Rip Cord had deployed
and was en route. It was time....

--
Sent from my mobile device

George Lucas is a Whore

"Um, I've got nothing new."

"Come on, George, give us something to do."

"I really liked AVATAR."

"Oh yes, George, it was brilliant. A real sci-fi tour-de-force, but no where near as good as Star Wa-"

"I want to make my films 3D, it's the next step in making them more betterer."

"Definitely, George, 3D is the future. You thinking of doing new films in 3D. Starting from scratch and creating new cinematic masterpieces of sci-fi brilliance to wow audiences with your unique artistic vision?"

"Nah, I just want to rerelease the originals and prequels in 3D. I don't think people have seen them enough."

"This is such a good idea, George, I think audiences just would love to experience the exact same movies for the one hundredth time. They don't want new stories or ideas, they just want to see the same things again and again and again."

"Yes. Tell me how brilliant I am again."

Animate This

The animated film is treated as a genre by Hollywood. Like the Hollywood romantic comedy, it has quite a strict structure applied to it, with plots needing to hit certain notes in every. single. film, almost irrespective of what studio is producing the films. This has started to really annoy me, and has almost killed any appeal I ever felt for seeing them.

The characters and settings in the films may vary, but the basic premise is exceptionally straight forward, and every Hollywood animated film must, I repeat, must have some moral, or message to impart on the audience. If there is no allegorical content it is not a Hollywood animated film. And this awful, awful mediocrity and uncreativity is seemingly rewarded by the American, and global, public, who just eat the same shit up year after year, and the industry gives awards to in truckloads.

I'm not saying there aren't exceptions, but they are rare. And I'm not saying the films can't have very touching, special moments (I defy anyone to not be in tears after the opening sequence of Up, scored by the brilliant Michael Giacchino), but they are hidden amongst the heavy-handed moralising, and predictable plots.

I cannot deny I have some favourites, that stick to the formula as much as any others: Toy Story, The Incredibles, Up, and Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. (I must admit I have not watched Toy Story 2 or Toy Story 3, but feel they will join my favourites despite my current dislike of Hollywood animated films.)

Perhaps it is an inherited trait from pre-computer animated films, this need to moralise. Perhaps Disney set out how cartoon films should be structured.

Animated television shows on the other hand have much greater variety in the States, and some great adult-oriented programs, such as South Park and Family Guy. Hollywood should take some cues from these progressive programs. And I don't mean just make the film versions of them. Look at how they treat their audiences and utilise animation accordingly.

Rock Ro-bot Rock

"In the words of the ancients, one should make his decision within the space of seven breaths. It is a matter of being determined and having the spirit to break through to the other side."
--Ghost Dog, Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai

 "I like science fiction... don't look at me like that. People always do that, like it's completely unlikely."

"I'm sorry, but it is quite unexpected. Read anything by Arthur C. Clarke, maybe Fountains of Paradise?"

"Um, can't say for sure, I'd have to go home and check my bookshelf. All I can think about right now are my dance moves. My head is filled with that and nothing else. Let's talk tomorrow night, when it's all over!"

"Yeah, I'm holding you to that."

I feel a little like Mark Zuckerberg in The Social Network, blogging about something that just happened and without much thought of the consequences, but according to the way of the samurai, as expounded by Forest Whitaker in Jim Jarmusch's Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai, a samurai must always decide on a course of action and resolve to do it within seven breaths of having had the thought. I don't expect anything untowards, or positive, to come out of this blog post, but, if a couple of years from now, I am a huge success at something, then I'll have something to point at and say "See, that's where it all began."

Back to my little story of current events. I liked this one dancer in the show I was backstage for the past two nights. (I neglect to specify what kind of backstage job I did, as I did it all. 'Manager' would suggest I had someone working under me. This year it was just me, with some help from my previous assistant's sister. Overall just me though, which was no problem as the show was well organised, thanks to me and Daphne, and ran with no hitches.) She was blonde, beautiful, and surprisingly older than I thought she was. I'd liked her last year when I thought she was younger, but in more like an "Aw, she's cute, she'll definitely break hearts in two years' time" way not in like a "Wow, I'd like to get to know her better... intellectually" way.

So several small encounters later over the past four days, coupled with the knowledge she was a science fiction reader, had me thinking about her more, not entirely certain why I would think about her more than any of the other gorgeous dancers in the show. Tonight, after the show was finished, and a quick dip in the pool to get rid of all the sweatiness of all my hard work, I finally found out, while drying up after a great dinner, why I liked her, and thought of her: she had a boyfriend.

I seem to like the unattainable, often without even realising. This most recent incident-that-wasn't is a perfect example. Relieved to know my fascination with her was to be unfulfilled, I felt much better.

This post was typed out while listening to Ke$ha's Animal (Billboard Remix) track off her new Cannibal EP, but mostly Daft Punk's most recent album: Human After All.