Friday, December 21, 2001

Hello, stranger. Jebus, it's been nearly a month since I last updated. This semester has been so insane with the busy-ness. No time to visit sites or look for links, much less post them with attempts at witty commentary. I'm not ready to give up on kerplink entirely, though, so if you're willing to hang in there, I am, too.

Oh, happy day! It's my half-birthday. It's the halfway point of Marcus's visit here. It's Royal Tenenbaums Day. And not a moment too soon, peeps. You have no idea how I've been yearning for this day. Actually, if you're Marcus, or any member of my family, or anyone I've spoken to or emailed in the last 5 months, you have some idea. A few weeks ago, when we went to see Amelie, I had to be physically restrained from jumping on the escalator when a poster announcing the film's release here on December 14 caught my eye. Last week, when it became clear that the announcement in the theatre was a damn dirty lie because Toronto isn't New York or LA, there was much gnashing of teeth and stamping of feet. It wasn't pretty.

But now it's all clear that Wes was simply waiting for the occasion of my half-birthday to provide me with the gift of his latest opus. He's not just quirky, or a fan of excellent music, but he's considerate, too! And he gives good interview. Really, there's no end to his charms. And I'll be there at a matinee today, ready to appreciate all the good performances and the detail-packed frames and the strange, fantastic humour and well, just all of it, really. Whee!
Friday, December 21, 2001 02:07 p.m.

Friday, November 28, 2001

"What do you call that haircut?" "Arthur." Well, this is a sad morning. I'm used to John Lennon being dead, but George Harrison? It's not such a surprise, since reports of his battle with cancer had been increasingly grim in the last few months, but it's still a far-out bummer. George was my favourite Beatle when I was little (ever since my parents let me stay up to see a late night broadcast of "Beatles Live at Shea Stadium" when I was 7 or 8), and though I've grown up to be more of a Paul girl, I still have a big soft spot for George. He wrote my favourite Beatles song, "Taxman" and got off the funniest lines A Hard Day's Night (the scene where he gives his opinions on the manufactured teen culture, and manages to go totally unrecognized and therefore not taken seriously by the culture engineers is priceless), and he was just so cool in his quiet, determined way. Dammit, I'm all teary. RIP, Sardonic Guitar Man.

Tuesday, November 27, 2001

Still wrapping up Vancouvah, and some other stuff. So I realized after I finished up last night's entry that I'd left out one groovy link to the best place I went to in Vancouver: The Sun Yat-Sen Chinese Garden is a beautiful retreat from the modern world. Apparently, it's the only traditional (in this case "traditional" means Ming Dynasty-style) Chinese scholar's garden outside of China, and it was amazing how completely the city seemed to drop away when I walked inside. It's plunked right in the middle of Chinatown, which is smack in downtown, but it felt like the outside world was very distant. Anyway, the site has a bunch of nice (if too-small) photographs of the garden and all its sections.

In other linky business, we have the ever-quotable and straight-shooting Snoop Dogg, who wonders aloud, "I keep hearing about muthafucking Harry Potter. I'm like, 'Who is this muthafucker I keep hearing about?'." Indeed. I haven't seen the movie yet, myself, but it's on my list. I was so excited about all the previews, and now that it's out, I'm feeling a little meh about it. Don't know why.

In other music news, the Strokes bandwagon keeps rolling along, picking up serious highbrow culture exposure & cred (which could damage their scruffy rawk cred, but if they're smart, they won't care about that) by being reviewed on NPR's Fresh Air. It's the review you'd expect: the band has great influences, but they're a little too derivative to be the Great Hope of Rock, but it doesn't matter because it's great to hear a bare-bones rock ensemble that hasn't had all the fun starched out of it with overly fussy production. The best part of the segment is when the usually super-prepared and correct Terry refers to the album twice as This Is It, rather than its actual title, the more world weary quasi-query, Is This It.

And also, the great Andrea Spencer is back! Enjoy! Rejoice! Read.

Monday, November 26, 2001

Where the hell have you been, little missy? So I inadvertently took some time off from kerplink. (And as if on cue, Marcus just walked in and said, "You're updating kerplink?! Bloody Hell! They'll all think you're an imposter!") What had happened was, oh, shit, I don't even remember what had happened. Hrm....looking at the calendar...yes, ok. My city planner pals Lex & Beka visited us one weekend. And then I had a crapload of work to get done before I visited Vancouver for a conference.

Vancouver is not only the hometown of the fabulous and highly literary Mr. Coupland, but is also a totally gorgeous city. It's probably the most extraordinarily scenic places I've ever been. You've got the mountains ringing the city, and then there's the sea, and both of these impressive features have a velvety sort of softness to them. The ocean is dark and sort of spooky, but it's not terrifying the way the Pacific can be sometimes, and the mountains, while impressively craggy, are covered in this rich (and pointy) carpet of the lushest green shade. The whole city glitters. You really should go see it if you can.

Anyway, I started out staying at this hotel, which I do not recommend. It's the kind of place that has a faded elegance which is now far more faded than elegant, and although I was fine with staying there (this was all paid for by the conference I was attending), after two nights, both I and the other attendee who was staying there were moved to this almost comically sumptuous luxury palace of a hotel. I had my own sitting room! There was a fluffy white robe hanging in the closet for my personal use! I had a great view of the harbour! All of the staff were incredibly (but not overly) friendly! It was probably the nicest hotel I will ever stay in, ever. I'm still savouring the memories. Ahhhh.

So then I came home after four days of jet-set West Coastyness, but there was just enough time to kiss Marcus, do some laundry, throw it all back in the suitcase, and head back to the airport to fly to Philly for Thanksgiving. The holiday was great -- I saw my family, I hung out with my friends, I ate quite a bit, but not too much, and I saw the world's most charming movie, ever. Seriously. I'm probably the gajillionth person on the Amelie bandwagon, but I am here to tell you that the bandwagoneers are totally right in this case. I defy anyone whose heart is not entirely composed of stone to watch this movie and not be filled with joy and delight and a desire to skip flat stones on the closest body of water.

So, I'm back. There will be real links in this space tomorrow at some point. Thanks for sticking around.