Had another short story idea. I'll just put the title down
- Fuggedaboudit
I need to buckle down this week and get the rest of TGO done, edited, revised, and what-not. Then query it, see if I can get any interest.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Cemetery Dunce
Looks like CEMETERY DANCE isn't taking any new stuff until 2010 (if that). We'll see. It's frustrating how tight the short fiction markets are.
Had another short story idea. I'll just put the title down
I need to buckle down this week and get the rest of TGO done, edited, revised, and what-not. Then query it, see if I can get any interest.
Had another short story idea. I'll just put the title down
I need to buckle down this week and get the rest of TGO done, edited, revised, and what-not. Then query it, see if I can get any interest.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Not a creature was stirring
I woke up this morning to the radiator hissing and the heat the great thing churns out. The living room has a long radiator in it, and that thing can belt out the heat. It was something like 3:30 in the morning. Seeing that the boys were asleep, I snuck outside to the car (noting that my building had finally done something about the bad lighting in the alley -- the are now strong lights shining there during the night hours), and I grabbed the toboggan I'd gotten for B1 -- he'd wanted one since last winter. Hopefully we'll get snow this year. When I bought it at Target, one of the employees quipped "You know we're not getting snow this year, right?" and I said "Probably just because I bought this thing." Anyway, he should be very pleased to get it, and it's big enough for him and his little brother. Good times, if the weather obliges!
I snuck the toboggan into the master closet. The thing is pretty dauntingly long, so I had a bit of inspiration and hid it in one of the garment bags for my suits. The thing actually fit in there! What a perfect hiding place! B1 isn't the type to even think about rooting around, hunting out presents, but even if he were, he'd be unlikely to suss out that hiding place. I was very pleased, since I wanted to get that thing into the apartment without the boys getting wind of it. And they're none the wiser. Christmas Commando operation successful!
Doing a lot of revision and editing on "second" novel (I say "second" because it's not really my second -- it's one of many book drafts, but it's the second one that I've gotten ready to sling out to publishers, so it's my "second"). I can't get my hopes up about it, yet -- I am so luck-averse, but I'll try. It's all I can do.
I was pleased to see that CEMETERY DANCE is still churning out magazines. I may send them a story or two. I have done so in the past, to no avail, but think maybe I'll do that again, see what, if anything, comes of it. Several of the venues I want to send stories to don't accept submissions until January 1, so I'm cooling my heels for the moment for a lot of my pieces.
I snuck the toboggan into the master closet. The thing is pretty dauntingly long, so I had a bit of inspiration and hid it in one of the garment bags for my suits. The thing actually fit in there! What a perfect hiding place! B1 isn't the type to even think about rooting around, hunting out presents, but even if he were, he'd be unlikely to suss out that hiding place. I was very pleased, since I wanted to get that thing into the apartment without the boys getting wind of it. And they're none the wiser. Christmas Commando operation successful!
Doing a lot of revision and editing on "second" novel (I say "second" because it's not really my second -- it's one of many book drafts, but it's the second one that I've gotten ready to sling out to publishers, so it's my "second"). I can't get my hopes up about it, yet -- I am so luck-averse, but I'll try. It's all I can do.
I was pleased to see that CEMETERY DANCE is still churning out magazines. I may send them a story or two. I have done so in the past, to no avail, but think maybe I'll do that again, see what, if anything, comes of it. Several of the venues I want to send stories to don't accept submissions until January 1, so I'm cooling my heels for the moment for a lot of my pieces.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Movie: 2012
I saw "2012" yesterday, on a whim. It was an odd juxtaposition with "The Road" of the day before, since both serve up apocalypse -- one monochromatic, bleak, and cold; the latter, exuberant and hopeful.
Having no expectations of cinematic excellence with "2012," I wasn't disappointed. I knew critics had panned it, but it hardly matters with a disaster movie like that -- what moral message are you going to get from a movie like that, anyway? It's good to be alive? Family's important? Know the right people? Everybody matters? (easy to say when you're one of the survivors)
It was hokey, had a lot of famous people cameos that felt a bit like "Naked Gun" (oooh, that's supposed to be the Governator! Ooh, there's Queen Elizabeth II!) and so on.
The effects are massive and astounding -- an orgy of mass destruction, annihilation on a grand scale, with little people tumbling into gaping holes in the ground, or being smashed by tsunamis (or by aircraft carriers tumbling -- the symbolism of a black President being killed by the carrier John F. Kennedy was not lost on me, whether Emmerich intended it or not, and I think it was intended, since the carrier broadsides poor, ashy Danny Glover, the name of the carrier visible across the flight deck as it nails Glover).
John Cusack and Amanda Peet don't really gel as a couple, and the kid characters are predictably annoying (the character sketches with them are laughably slight -- the boy has a cell phone! The girl loves wearing hats and apparently diapers because she wets the bed -- something that reappears near the end in an all-time terrible line of dialogue). Woody Harrelson's hippy-dippy deejay loves to eat pickles (that's his character quirk, I guess).
But the characters are entirely beside the point with a movie like this -- the only point is the massive destruction, which gets a bit repetitive as you wade through it. Three airplane near-escapes, lots of waves, tumbling mountains, human dignity (and shame) in the face of certain doom, and so on. I can imagine a grad student doing studies of disaster movies, the evolution of them, the arbiters of virtue and villainy.
A few thematic flourishes rubbed me the wrong way -- several times a kind of tooth-sucking about the futility of modern technology and civilized life in the face of ancient prophecies and crackpot "wisdom." Those little bits happened several times, which was annoying. People might think it, but nobody wants the world to end quite so badly as the crackpots, and few are more disappointed (yet undaunted) when the world fails to end on cue -- the world is bigger than the world's religions, but don't tell that to them (or to Emmerich).
Bizarrely, Africa survives the apocalypse, and appears to be the hope of the survivors, owing to some geological quirk. Not sure the point of that, exactly, except I guess come-uppance for Western Civilization and Africa's turn at bat (I imagine malaria will make very short work of most of the survivors who make landfall there, but it's beside the point of a movie like this).
Still, it does its thing -- massive destruction, the aesthetics of apocalypse, like a gaper's delay in traffic, everybody peeking at the car accident as they go by. Move along, move along -- nothing to see, here.
Having no expectations of cinematic excellence with "2012," I wasn't disappointed. I knew critics had panned it, but it hardly matters with a disaster movie like that -- what moral message are you going to get from a movie like that, anyway? It's good to be alive? Family's important? Know the right people? Everybody matters? (easy to say when you're one of the survivors)
It was hokey, had a lot of famous people cameos that felt a bit like "Naked Gun" (oooh, that's supposed to be the Governator! Ooh, there's Queen Elizabeth II!) and so on.
The effects are massive and astounding -- an orgy of mass destruction, annihilation on a grand scale, with little people tumbling into gaping holes in the ground, or being smashed by tsunamis (or by aircraft carriers tumbling -- the symbolism of a black President being killed by the carrier John F. Kennedy was not lost on me, whether Emmerich intended it or not, and I think it was intended, since the carrier broadsides poor, ashy Danny Glover, the name of the carrier visible across the flight deck as it nails Glover).
John Cusack and Amanda Peet don't really gel as a couple, and the kid characters are predictably annoying (the character sketches with them are laughably slight -- the boy has a cell phone! The girl loves wearing hats and apparently diapers because she wets the bed -- something that reappears near the end in an all-time terrible line of dialogue). Woody Harrelson's hippy-dippy deejay loves to eat pickles (that's his character quirk, I guess).
But the characters are entirely beside the point with a movie like this -- the only point is the massive destruction, which gets a bit repetitive as you wade through it. Three airplane near-escapes, lots of waves, tumbling mountains, human dignity (and shame) in the face of certain doom, and so on. I can imagine a grad student doing studies of disaster movies, the evolution of them, the arbiters of virtue and villainy.
A few thematic flourishes rubbed me the wrong way -- several times a kind of tooth-sucking about the futility of modern technology and civilized life in the face of ancient prophecies and crackpot "wisdom." Those little bits happened several times, which was annoying. People might think it, but nobody wants the world to end quite so badly as the crackpots, and few are more disappointed (yet undaunted) when the world fails to end on cue -- the world is bigger than the world's religions, but don't tell that to them (or to Emmerich).
Bizarrely, Africa survives the apocalypse, and appears to be the hope of the survivors, owing to some geological quirk. Not sure the point of that, exactly, except I guess come-uppance for Western Civilization and Africa's turn at bat (I imagine malaria will make very short work of most of the survivors who make landfall there, but it's beside the point of a movie like this).
Still, it does its thing -- massive destruction, the aesthetics of apocalypse, like a gaper's delay in traffic, everybody peeking at the car accident as they go by. Move along, move along -- nothing to see, here.
Movie: The Road
I saw "The Road" on Thanksgiving Day, which was either the worst day to see it, or the best, depending on what one is thankful for, precisely. It's a grueling, grim, bleak-as-fuck movie that offers two slivers of hope in it, sort of like being a starving man finding a peanut in your pocket, and carefully halving the peanut, eating one half earlier in the day, and saving the other half for later.
I won't throw any spoilers into this, but it's a terribly dark movie, and you know what's going to happen to one of the characters almost from the outset, as Viggo does some "acting" (he's a good enough actor, with a penchant for extreme roles like these, but he telegraphs something early on that is like a pulmonary Morse Code for "DOOM(tm)" in movie terms -- from the first exhalation, you know where that's going to lead).
Both Viggo as The Man and the boy who plays The Boy (who bears an uncanny resemblance to Charlize Theron, who plays his mother) do a good job conveying the dismal nature of their existence -- it's like a concentration camp without walls, a world-gone-foul in some unnamed, unspecified apocalypse that has claimed the world-as-we know it. Everything is dead and/or dying, with trees falling and not an animal to be found in the wild, or so we're led to believe.
The world seems divided between varying shades of survivors -- good, bad, and ugly -- with the ugly being the cannibals and slavers, in no uncertain terms, and the bad being the merely ruthless and/or opportunistic predators and/or scavengers. I put a lot of and/or in the mix because in a world devoid of hope and trust, it's hard to know friend from foe, since everybody's brandishing a knife or a gun, without assurances of who's predator and who is prey.
Viggo's quest for hope in the South, and his pathological concern for his son's security point to how strongly human safety is bound up in solidarity -- that is a curious thing. Only the cannibals and slavers appear to work together -- Viggo is very much a go-it-alone type, and there's some kind of editorial point to be made in this. Maybe The Man is too much of a control freak to be willing to trust anyone else, but three groups of predators are all doing pretty well for themselves (in relative terms) by banding together. I feel that maybe McCarthy and/or the director/screenwriter might be chalking that up to the predatory lifestyle of those groups, but that they are in groups is exactly how and why they succeed. That, and guns. Work together, and Man can prosper in almost any setting -- work alone, and you become something of a hermit and a vagabond. Viggo the Vagabond wending his way through a shattered world.
The Boy offers a strong moral counterpoint to some very questionable decisions and actions by The Man, which is valid and vital, makes the Boy's presence in the world all the more vital and necessary. Despite the bleakness of their life, he maintains the hopeful promise of a better world in his heart. That is one half of the sliver of hope in this movie.
The other half, as I saw it, was the presence of a beetle, flying free. They discover it in an empty chewing tobacco container, and the bug flies off for parts unknown. I liked seeing that, since we're to believe the world is dead, and no animals live within it (which feels like a cop-out of sorts, or a narrative convenience -- since wild animals would likely be better able to survive the post-apocalyptic holocaust than man). That beetle, not unlike the sprig of green in "Wall-E" showed to me that all was not lost -- that man may have destroyed his civilization, but the world would, in time, heal and move on, long after we were gone. In the (Cormac) McCarthyite world, even that sliver of hope is better than none at all.
I won't throw any spoilers into this, but it's a terribly dark movie, and you know what's going to happen to one of the characters almost from the outset, as Viggo does some "acting" (he's a good enough actor, with a penchant for extreme roles like these, but he telegraphs something early on that is like a pulmonary Morse Code for "DOOM(tm)" in movie terms -- from the first exhalation, you know where that's going to lead).
Both Viggo as The Man and the boy who plays The Boy (who bears an uncanny resemblance to Charlize Theron, who plays his mother) do a good job conveying the dismal nature of their existence -- it's like a concentration camp without walls, a world-gone-foul in some unnamed, unspecified apocalypse that has claimed the world-as-we know it. Everything is dead and/or dying, with trees falling and not an animal to be found in the wild, or so we're led to believe.
The world seems divided between varying shades of survivors -- good, bad, and ugly -- with the ugly being the cannibals and slavers, in no uncertain terms, and the bad being the merely ruthless and/or opportunistic predators and/or scavengers. I put a lot of and/or in the mix because in a world devoid of hope and trust, it's hard to know friend from foe, since everybody's brandishing a knife or a gun, without assurances of who's predator and who is prey.
Viggo's quest for hope in the South, and his pathological concern for his son's security point to how strongly human safety is bound up in solidarity -- that is a curious thing. Only the cannibals and slavers appear to work together -- Viggo is very much a go-it-alone type, and there's some kind of editorial point to be made in this. Maybe The Man is too much of a control freak to be willing to trust anyone else, but three groups of predators are all doing pretty well for themselves (in relative terms) by banding together. I feel that maybe McCarthy and/or the director/screenwriter might be chalking that up to the predatory lifestyle of those groups, but that they are in groups is exactly how and why they succeed. That, and guns. Work together, and Man can prosper in almost any setting -- work alone, and you become something of a hermit and a vagabond. Viggo the Vagabond wending his way through a shattered world.
The Boy offers a strong moral counterpoint to some very questionable decisions and actions by The Man, which is valid and vital, makes the Boy's presence in the world all the more vital and necessary. Despite the bleakness of their life, he maintains the hopeful promise of a better world in his heart. That is one half of the sliver of hope in this movie.
The other half, as I saw it, was the presence of a beetle, flying free. They discover it in an empty chewing tobacco container, and the bug flies off for parts unknown. I liked seeing that, since we're to believe the world is dead, and no animals live within it (which feels like a cop-out of sorts, or a narrative convenience -- since wild animals would likely be better able to survive the post-apocalyptic holocaust than man). That beetle, not unlike the sprig of green in "Wall-E" showed to me that all was not lost -- that man may have destroyed his civilization, but the world would, in time, heal and move on, long after we were gone. In the (Cormac) McCarthyite world, even that sliver of hope is better than none at all.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Food: The Gemini Bistro
I ate at the Gemini Bistro last night, and really enjoyed it. It's on Lincoln Avenue, and has a lot of dark wood and old-school kind of elegance and ambiance. Everybody's impeccably-attired and the service was tip-top. It classifies itself as an "American bistro" -- which to me means a bistro with fast service, for which I'm grateful, not being one who likes to wait.I had the Prix Fixe menu (served from 5 to 6:30 p.m.), which is three courses for $31 ($49 if you want wine with each course). I opted for the lobster bisque, short-rib ravioli, and German chocolate cake.
The bisque was really tasty, with very tender lobster chunks in it, great color and seasoning. I could have probably had that bisque the whole evening, just with some bread (the bread is served in shiny metal cones with attached butter caddies). Great flavor. I savored it.
The short-rib ravioli was tasty, qualified as a "medium" plate serving (Gemini does small, medium, and large plate servings, depending on the menu item), and while it was maybe a half-dozen round raviolis nicely seasoned and accompanied with shards of aged parmesan, it was enough, I found, to fill me up. The taste was good -- rich and hearty, but also very delicate.
The dessert was beautifully plated -- a three-layer German chocolate cake, a square of reasonable size (in Chicago terms -- everything here is served in bistro portions), and a pretty little dollop of hazelnut ice cream atop a hazelnut fruit spread (I asked the waiter about that, and he told me what it was, but I forgot the fruit that was representing, there), and a sprig of mint. The cake was tasty, if not mind-blowing, but the ice cream was a nice treat, served very cold and it kind of upstaged the cake a bit.
The bar is a nice, long, broad thing, and they do full meal service there, too. I had the best Old-Fashioned I'd ever had in Chicago there -- their "Velvety Old-Fashioned" which was a blend of Maker's Mark, Cointreau, and Bitters, with the requisite mulled cherry and orange wedge garnish. It was fantastic. I often use the Old-Fashioned as my benchmark beverage for a bar, to test their mettle -- not because it's a complicated cocktail, but because it's such a simple one. And I am pleased to say that they nailed it -- strong and flavorful, I had two of them, and had a little trouble putting my jacket on when it was time to leave, and my head was spinning for about an hour after leaving. That is one good cocktail!
I had no complaints about the food or the service -- both were very good. I don't have any complaints at all, really. The Gemini is a nice place -- very Chicago, in its mix of elegance coupled with a lack of pretension. The only discordant notes (and they're minor, truly) were the music -- when I came in, Cream was playing, which just doesn't fit with the decor and overall ambiance of the place. Not that one wants the trademark Smooth Jazz(tm) or whatever, but it just didn't fit with the beauty of the place -- the music changed later, but it still wasn't quite right. Also, the television in the top corner above the bar seemed out of place. Sure, I get it -- a bar with a television -- who doesn't have that? But at the same time, the place seems too sharp for such a common contrivance. Maybe its absence would be felt, but something about the Gemini Bistro, to me, makes it seem a classier place than that.
But those are very minor complaints. I enjoyed the food, loved the cocktail, savored the ambiance, and appreciated the setting. All in all, I'd say it's well worth your time, if you're in the area. A great place for brunch, lunch, and most definitely a place to take a date.
Four out of five stars: * * * *
http://www.geminibistrochicago.com/
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanklessgiving
I'm going to take advantage of the current situation to get a lot of writing done over the weekend.
An agent took a pass on one of my books. No big deal, it was, perhaps, a longshot, anyway, but I had to try. I'm putting together another proposal for him, another book I have that is very nearly ready to go (I'll finish that up this weekend). This one may (?) be closer to what he's looking for, and I hope he appreciates that I'm slinging another work his way this soon after corresponding with him on another work. He's a good agent, gets those deals, so that's something I can look forward to, if I luck out and he considers this other proposal.
I need to organize my writing station more -- I have several file boxes for my hard copy, but I need to consolidate, have it in one place, in a cabinet with a lock and key. Something portable, but larger, and more centralized. Just for the sake of organization.
An agent took a pass on one of my books. No big deal, it was, perhaps, a longshot, anyway, but I had to try. I'm putting together another proposal for him, another book I have that is very nearly ready to go (I'll finish that up this weekend). This one may (?) be closer to what he's looking for, and I hope he appreciates that I'm slinging another work his way this soon after corresponding with him on another work. He's a good agent, gets those deals, so that's something I can look forward to, if I luck out and he considers this other proposal.
I need to organize my writing station more -- I have several file boxes for my hard copy, but I need to consolidate, have it in one place, in a cabinet with a lock and key. Something portable, but larger, and more centralized. Just for the sake of organization.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Putting the Horse Before the Cartwright
I have accidentally had a Veronica Cartwright filmfest going, lately. Kinda funny, really. It started with watching "ALIEN" the other day, where she plays the rather emotionally-fraught Lambert (curious bit of trivia -- the shot of her death, when the alien's tail appears to be suggestively snaking oh-so-sinuously between her legs -- that shot was actually of Harry Dean Stanton's feet from an unused bit of footage. The reveal is that Lambert always wore cowboy boots, not sneakers, as is seen in the shot. Plus, if you watch the deleted scenes, you'll see it. So, oddly enough, Ridley Scott, I'm guessing, was looking at the footage and decided to slip that footage in there, and I guess they forgot continuity with the boots or something. Or the desire to have that sort of rape imagery was so strong that they didn't fuss with the details of it). But Scott's choice is kind of curious, really -- it points to them not thinking about the continuity of that until afterward, and, I guess, not being able to reshoot a sequence with Lambert's boots on. In that day of non-CGI movies, directors had to do what they had to do.
Anyway, after that, the other day, I watched "The Birds" -- which has a teenaged Veronica Cartwright in it, doing what she does best: being emotionally fraught! I saw her name in the credits and was like "WTF?! She'd have to be very young in this." And, sure enough, she was. She played the hero's daughter, Cathy. And sure enough, watching it, it's her, alright. The same frail, fragile, cracking-apart-at-the-seams kind of performance.Finally (and this one isn't due, yet, as I ordered it, and it has not yet arrived) is the remake of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" -- in which Veronica Cartwright plays a role as an emotionally fraught human being who is memorably "outed" in the end.
Just funny -- I didn't plan on this, but just stumbled into it, as is my way. I think there is a kind of typecasting that can work for you in Hollywood, if you're able to find a workable niche. It certainly worked for Veronica Cartwright. I'm kind of wanting to look at what other movies she's starred in, to see what other roles she's played.
(searches IMDB)
Wow, she's gotten a lot of work -- 120 acting credits to date. April 20 birthday. Taurus? Hahah, figures! English, but grew up in America. Okay. Stuff I've seen...
"The Right Stuff" -- she plays Gus Grissom's wife, Betty. I am sure she was emotionally fraught when she finds out what happened to Gus.
"The Witches of Eastwick" -- she plays Felicia Alden -- I can almost remember that. I vaguely recall an emotionally-fraught woman who is plagued by the witches at some point. Maybe a Bible-thumper? That rings a mental bell with me. Something about her spitting up cherries? Some sympathetic magic?
In "Nip/Tuck" she's Mother Mary Claire -- I'd need to see that episode she was in again, but I'm betting she's some kind of emotionally-fraught nun in that.
Still, she's got a shitload of credits, so good for her, workin' her thing.
Movie: Robots
My boys like the movie, "Robots" -- it's a cute movie, beautifully computer-animated. Really very impressive along those lines. But I watch that movie, which is a perky parable of capitalism and a son finding his way and following his star, and, of course, me being me, my mind spins the story into something dark and dystopian.
I mean, this world resembles our own, but it's populated entirely by machines. Everybody's a robot. Robot dogs, robot birds, robot everything. But they're still doing very human things -- having families, eating "ice cream," going to parties (drinking evocative oil martinis with nuts in them in lieu of olives), frequenting corporate board meetings, and so on. They're machines pretending to be human beings (and they have emotions, too, mind you).
So, I look at it and cynically spin the story -- that this is a world where humanity fully managed to replace itself, having done so in a manner so completely that the machines that replaced us (since there are no organic lifeforms on this world -- even the trees are robots) don't even behave as machines would. They are living machines, and, thus, are imperfect creations, now, or appear to be.
Like why would a robot walk a robotic dog? Why would a robot own a robotic dog? When you think of robots (the word literally meaning "worker" in Czech, I think), volition and free will are not part of the equation. I write a lot about this in stories, one way or another.
You want to walk your dog, you get up and do it. You're doing it because your dog has to take a piss and could use the exercise. Hell, you could use the exercise, too.
But a robot dog owner would have to have been programmed to be a dog owner -- it wouldn't be something it just simply decided to do. And what point would there be to being a robotic dog? At one point, there's a moment when a robot dog tries to pee (?) on a robot fire hydrant -- the robotic hydrant then fights back, repelling the dog. A simple gag, played for kid-laughs.
However, it amuses me along different lines -- if you invent a robot dog, why have the dog need to pee to begin with? That's a biological function, not something a machine needs to do. These robots are busy simulating biological life, across the board. On face value, it's done so children can relate to the pretty robot world. But philosophically, it gets the gears (!) turning in my head, this simulation of life that is inherent in robotics. Man using technology to, in effect, recreate himself mechanically. Robots can't create themselves (at least not initially); they must be created. Once they are created, then they can do something about it, but they must be invented, first, before they can recreate themselves.
Simply put: WHERE are the humans in this world? Robots come from human beings, so where are the people? Did the machines replace humanity (e.g., wipe us out) and then, because we'd programmed them to be like us, just mechanically performed what we would have done? Or are these robots humanity themselves? That is, are they, in effect, the fullest expression of cybernetics, where people migrate themselves from biological to technological, until all trace of the organic is gone? Humanity's presence and absence from the movie is fascinating to me, and is bold. Clearly somebody had to have made these machines, long ago. Unless this is a world that was always mechanical (it's never said what this world is). But illogical contrivances like metal buttons on a robot's "suit" point to an illogical origin to the machines -- e.g., organic. Makers who created these machines in their own image. But where did humanity go? The absence of flesh-and-blood in the movie fascinates me, relative to the machine, since so much fiction with robots depends on the interaction of Man and Machine -- and in this movie, there is no Man, only Machine. The Machines won, and became us. Fascinating!
There are two competing philosophies in the movie -- the Good Guys are about finding yourself and following your dreams; the Bad Guys are about feeling bad about yourself and casting off the old in favor of the new (and, again, the notion of robots with low self-esteem is particularly ripe for exploration). Eventually, the Good Guys best the Bad Guys (of course), although nobody really gets hurt too badly (except for the baddest of the Bad Guys).
Anyway, the movie is light-hearted, is a comedy, but I find a lot of the questions it brings up very curious, compared with a far more self-serious movie like, say, "Wall-E" (which itself has a lot of consumerist criticism in it, but allows for humans in it). Without perhaps intending it, "Robots" is a bolder enterprise, since there simply ARE no humans in it -- just humanlike robots, doing humanlike things.
Check it out if you have the time, and watch it with a philosophical eye, and you'll see what I mean about it, that sense of the uncanny in watching robots interact in a clearly post-human world, yet doing very, very human things.
I mean, this world resembles our own, but it's populated entirely by machines. Everybody's a robot. Robot dogs, robot birds, robot everything. But they're still doing very human things -- having families, eating "ice cream," going to parties (drinking evocative oil martinis with nuts in them in lieu of olives), frequenting corporate board meetings, and so on. They're machines pretending to be human beings (and they have emotions, too, mind you).
So, I look at it and cynically spin the story -- that this is a world where humanity fully managed to replace itself, having done so in a manner so completely that the machines that replaced us (since there are no organic lifeforms on this world -- even the trees are robots) don't even behave as machines would. They are living machines, and, thus, are imperfect creations, now, or appear to be.
Like why would a robot walk a robotic dog? Why would a robot own a robotic dog? When you think of robots (the word literally meaning "worker" in Czech, I think), volition and free will are not part of the equation. I write a lot about this in stories, one way or another.
You want to walk your dog, you get up and do it. You're doing it because your dog has to take a piss and could use the exercise. Hell, you could use the exercise, too.
But a robot dog owner would have to have been programmed to be a dog owner -- it wouldn't be something it just simply decided to do. And what point would there be to being a robotic dog? At one point, there's a moment when a robot dog tries to pee (?) on a robot fire hydrant -- the robotic hydrant then fights back, repelling the dog. A simple gag, played for kid-laughs.
However, it amuses me along different lines -- if you invent a robot dog, why have the dog need to pee to begin with? That's a biological function, not something a machine needs to do. These robots are busy simulating biological life, across the board. On face value, it's done so children can relate to the pretty robot world. But philosophically, it gets the gears (!) turning in my head, this simulation of life that is inherent in robotics. Man using technology to, in effect, recreate himself mechanically. Robots can't create themselves (at least not initially); they must be created. Once they are created, then they can do something about it, but they must be invented, first, before they can recreate themselves.
Simply put: WHERE are the humans in this world? Robots come from human beings, so where are the people? Did the machines replace humanity (e.g., wipe us out) and then, because we'd programmed them to be like us, just mechanically performed what we would have done? Or are these robots humanity themselves? That is, are they, in effect, the fullest expression of cybernetics, where people migrate themselves from biological to technological, until all trace of the organic is gone? Humanity's presence and absence from the movie is fascinating to me, and is bold. Clearly somebody had to have made these machines, long ago. Unless this is a world that was always mechanical (it's never said what this world is). But illogical contrivances like metal buttons on a robot's "suit" point to an illogical origin to the machines -- e.g., organic. Makers who created these machines in their own image. But where did humanity go? The absence of flesh-and-blood in the movie fascinates me, relative to the machine, since so much fiction with robots depends on the interaction of Man and Machine -- and in this movie, there is no Man, only Machine. The Machines won, and became us. Fascinating!
There are two competing philosophies in the movie -- the Good Guys are about finding yourself and following your dreams; the Bad Guys are about feeling bad about yourself and casting off the old in favor of the new (and, again, the notion of robots with low self-esteem is particularly ripe for exploration). Eventually, the Good Guys best the Bad Guys (of course), although nobody really gets hurt too badly (except for the baddest of the Bad Guys).
Anyway, the movie is light-hearted, is a comedy, but I find a lot of the questions it brings up very curious, compared with a far more self-serious movie like, say, "Wall-E" (which itself has a lot of consumerist criticism in it, but allows for humans in it). Without perhaps intending it, "Robots" is a bolder enterprise, since there simply ARE no humans in it -- just humanlike robots, doing humanlike things.
Check it out if you have the time, and watch it with a philosophical eye, and you'll see what I mean about it, that sense of the uncanny in watching robots interact in a clearly post-human world, yet doing very, very human things.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Wrongful Logic
I am going to try to sell a collection of my short stories. A longshot, to be sure, but everything is, where writing is concerned, and I'd like to think that anything will increase my odds. Something really is better than nothing.
The collection will be entitled "Wrongful Logic." I picked 12 of my short stories for it, mostly horror, a little science fiction and literary. A good cross-section of my work:
79,602 words. So, that'd be a decent-sized book.
The challenge will be getting the interest of anybody in the publishing world on that. But it'll be another iron in the proverbial fire, so that'll keep me warm in the coming winter months.
The collection will be entitled "Wrongful Logic." I picked 12 of my short stories for it, mostly horror, a little science fiction and literary. A good cross-section of my work:
- Bait
- Chosen
- Maenad
- A Monsters Sleeps Inside Me
- White Meat
- Entropy's Vestal Virgin
- Pigeon Man
- Airlock
- The Atomic Baby
- Mermaid's Smile
- The Shape
- Living With Syn
79,602 words. So, that'd be a decent-sized book.
The challenge will be getting the interest of anybody in the publishing world on that. But it'll be another iron in the proverbial fire, so that'll keep me warm in the coming winter months.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Querulous
I sent another query out. This one directly to a publisher. I'm sure nothing'll come of it, but I have to try, anyway.
Albedo 1
Looks like Issue 37 of ALBEDO 1 is finally available for the reading public. My second-place Aeon Award-winning short story, "Aegis," is in there, if you're jonesing for some kickass fiction...
http://www.albedo1.com/
There are some reviews out there for my short story, "Rotgut," which was in Issue 36 of ALBEDO 1. Here are a couple I found. First, from Colin Harvey...
Definitely give ALBEDO 1 a look, if you get the chance.
http://www.albedo1.com/
There are some reviews out there for my short story, "Rotgut," which was in Issue 36 of ALBEDO 1. Here are a couple I found. First, from Colin Harvey...
"D. T. Neal's 'Rotgut' takes the theme of alien infestation to its furthest extreme, and maybe beyond. A terrific story."Also, from Stephen Hunt's SF Crowsnest...
'Rotgut' by DT Neal was a rather frightening story. A man explodes on the train and infects everyone with a strange alien parasite. We know the man in the story is doomed from the start but we follow his progress, analytically from a microbiologist's point of view, to witness the parasite take hold of his body. I've read many stories in the past before about parasites, including 'Invasion Of The Body Snatchers', that have always been from the perspective of an observer. Neal gets right inside the host to realistically let you know what's happening. Chilling to say the least!Finally, from Tangent...
“Rotgut” by D.T. Neal is weird. A man on a train blows up. No, he’s not a terrorist, he’s been infected or infested. I can’t say a whole lot more without spoiling the story, and I don’t want to do that. I liked it, in a morbid sort of way.So, that's nice, although I'm very curious how people receive "Aegis." I think it's one of my best short stories to date.
Definitely give ALBEDO 1 a look, if you get the chance.
This and that
1424 words this morning for "Old Hickory." It's coming along very nicely. I think I'm about two-thirds of the way there with it. A short story. I think it'll be a sure bet to be published, just because of the nature of the tale. May need a bit of revision when I'm done with it, but that's all part of the dance, yes? Heh.
Oh, another story idea came to me yesterday. Here's the title, so it doesn't get lost (I always put my ideas down on paper slips, but sometimes I launder them or whatever. This way, they're at least likelier not to get lost)...
I'm pleased that my idea factory in my head seems to be humming along. I was preoccupied in 2008 with a lot of things, and was wrapping up one of my books, which ate up a lot of attention. I'm just pleased to "take a break" with a batch of short stories for 2009. I enjoy short stories as much as I enjoy novel-writing. It's a very different discipline, demands clean, lean prose; there's precious little fat to trim in them, not so much wiggle room. I like that.
Not that I don't enjoy a good wiggle, mind you, but in fiction, clean and lean is the way to go -- lush descriptions, but economy still rules the roost. Every word must matter. Not quite as much as with poetry, but nearly so.
I may take to writing longhand during lunch. I'll just drop down to the cafe and write down there, tune everybody out. Lately, Bossie has been coming by brandishing lists and what-not, taking advantage of me being at my desk (usually) during lunch, so I figure if I'm not there, am down in the cafe writing, I gain the benefit of an extra half-hour of writing time AND the benefit of not getting bothered by Bossie.
Oh, another story idea came to me yesterday. Here's the title, so it doesn't get lost (I always put my ideas down on paper slips, but sometimes I launder them or whatever. This way, they're at least likelier not to get lost)...
- It Takes One To Know One
I'm pleased that my idea factory in my head seems to be humming along. I was preoccupied in 2008 with a lot of things, and was wrapping up one of my books, which ate up a lot of attention. I'm just pleased to "take a break" with a batch of short stories for 2009. I enjoy short stories as much as I enjoy novel-writing. It's a very different discipline, demands clean, lean prose; there's precious little fat to trim in them, not so much wiggle room. I like that.
Not that I don't enjoy a good wiggle, mind you, but in fiction, clean and lean is the way to go -- lush descriptions, but economy still rules the roost. Every word must matter. Not quite as much as with poetry, but nearly so.
I may take to writing longhand during lunch. I'll just drop down to the cafe and write down there, tune everybody out. Lately, Bossie has been coming by brandishing lists and what-not, taking advantage of me being at my desk (usually) during lunch, so I figure if I'm not there, am down in the cafe writing, I gain the benefit of an extra half-hour of writing time AND the benefit of not getting bothered by Bossie.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Bobbing, Weaving
I should be sleeping. But one of the boys was sick, so I was taking care of that. Poor little guy. He's sleeping, now, but I'm awake. Or half-awake, anyway.
Watched "Nip/Tuck" last night. Glad they brought Julia back -- her absence was keenly felt. The show isn't nearly where it was in the first three seasons, in terms of everything. The writing is thinner, and that bugs me. I can always tell when something's been written well, versus somebody just going through the motions -- thinly-plotted contrivances and what-not. I can just see it. But Julia was integral to the dynamic of the show, so hopefully her return will up it a little.
Same thing with "It's Always Sunny..." -- it has not found The Funny so much this season, unfortunately. All too often, when comedy writers come up short, they opt for The Zany when they should be finding The Funny. For a lot of people, Zany IS Funny -- but they're not the same. The Funny doesn't have to be Zany -- it wins you over on its own merits, whereas Zany -- well, it's the comedic equivalent of blood and gore in lieu of terror or horror. It's what a writer of comedy reaches for when they are coming up short, are out of ideas. "Arrested Development" did it by the end of the second season. Lord knows when "The Office" (US) did it. But all comedy shows do it when they lose sight of The Funny, lose that vital edge. Once lost, it's often hard to rediscover -- it's like trying to explain a joke to somebody, the punchline is invariably lost on the listener, or they'll politely say "That's funny."
No, it's not. If you have to say it's funny, it's not funny. The Funny finds you; if you have to find The Funny, you're screwed. It's the Zen of The Funny, The Tao of Laughter. And so far, I've been very disappointed with this season's "It's Always Sunny...." -- I really, really, hope they find The Funny again. Fingers crossed.
Speaking of crossed fingers, I spent much of last night jotting down contact information for publishing my book. I found about a dozen potential homes for it, so now I have to work on those pitches and see if anybody has an iota's interest in it. They should; it's a good book. But it's very hard to pitch a book as a complete outsider -- I needed a pedigree, like coming from an Ivy League school, or having gone to the Writer's Workshop, or be related to a publishing czar -- an in-road like that really helps. All I have on my side is talent and persistence -- I just need that opportunity, need to make that opportunity, and a fistful of luck. So, we'll see how it goes.
Watched "Nip/Tuck" last night. Glad they brought Julia back -- her absence was keenly felt. The show isn't nearly where it was in the first three seasons, in terms of everything. The writing is thinner, and that bugs me. I can always tell when something's been written well, versus somebody just going through the motions -- thinly-plotted contrivances and what-not. I can just see it. But Julia was integral to the dynamic of the show, so hopefully her return will up it a little.
Same thing with "It's Always Sunny..." -- it has not found The Funny so much this season, unfortunately. All too often, when comedy writers come up short, they opt for The Zany when they should be finding The Funny. For a lot of people, Zany IS Funny -- but they're not the same. The Funny doesn't have to be Zany -- it wins you over on its own merits, whereas Zany -- well, it's the comedic equivalent of blood and gore in lieu of terror or horror. It's what a writer of comedy reaches for when they are coming up short, are out of ideas. "Arrested Development" did it by the end of the second season. Lord knows when "The Office" (US) did it. But all comedy shows do it when they lose sight of The Funny, lose that vital edge. Once lost, it's often hard to rediscover -- it's like trying to explain a joke to somebody, the punchline is invariably lost on the listener, or they'll politely say "That's funny."
No, it's not. If you have to say it's funny, it's not funny. The Funny finds you; if you have to find The Funny, you're screwed. It's the Zen of The Funny, The Tao of Laughter. And so far, I've been very disappointed with this season's "It's Always Sunny...." -- I really, really, hope they find The Funny again. Fingers crossed.
Speaking of crossed fingers, I spent much of last night jotting down contact information for publishing my book. I found about a dozen potential homes for it, so now I have to work on those pitches and see if anybody has an iota's interest in it. They should; it's a good book. But it's very hard to pitch a book as a complete outsider -- I needed a pedigree, like coming from an Ivy League school, or having gone to the Writer's Workshop, or be related to a publishing czar -- an in-road like that really helps. All I have on my side is talent and persistence -- I just need that opportunity, need to make that opportunity, and a fistful of luck. So, we'll see how it goes.
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