Flashback Friday: Cariad

This one’s from the not-too-distant past, denizens. But it’s the conclusion of more than a year’s worth of research and perseverance that has left me incredibly happy today.

When I last visited London in September 2008, I took my cousin to a classical music concert at St. Martin-in-the Fields. Of all the things I love most about London, concerts at St. Martin are at the very tippy-top of the list. It’s no secret that I’m not a highly religious person, but sitting inside that beautiful church, ensconced in the glow of candlelight, the serene silence of history and devotion almost palpable around you…you can’t help but feel the flicker of kinship with whatever greater universal powers might be out there. I hope that my cousin felt something close to the same delight I feel whenever I go to St. Martin.

This concert, however, provided even more delight than any previous concerts. On this particular evening, the Locrian Ensemble of London, featuring renowned cellist Justin Pearson, gave the world premier performance of a piece by British composer Julie Cooper. The piece was “Cariad,” which is the Welsh word for “Love.”

I wish I had the words to capture the overwhelming joy that this piece brought to my heart. Tempered in style and cadence, it pulls you in slowly, softly, and carries you upward as it soars and swells to glorious heights before bringing you once more earthbound. It is rapturous and exquisite, and all other music from that evening’s performance melted away under the memory of this one composition.

I left St. Martin that evening with “Cariad” still playing in my head and heart. The piece was not on the evening’s set list, so I didn’t have the title on hand. But I couldn’t forget the music. So when I returned home to the States, I set about doing my best impersonation of Mrs. Columbo that I could muster since Loba Loves a Mystery, too (somewhere, a Kate Mulgrew fan is smiling right now).

My investigation led me first to Justin Pearson and then to the composer herself, Julie Cooper. Ms. Cooper has very kindly kept me informed about the recording schedule for “Cariad” ever since my initial query. And then, two nights ago when I arrived home and checked my e-mail, there was a message from her, informing me that “Cariad” was finally available for purchase!

I am now the very proud owner of this magnificent piece of music. And it is still as wonderful as it was the first time I heard it. So I’m encouraging all of you to visit Ms. Cooper’s page at CDBaby.com and listen to the preview of “Cariad.” If you like what you hear, by all means, purchase your very own MP3. I promise, you won’t regret it.

And, as a bonus, here’s a photo I snapped of St. Martin-in-the-Fields as my cousin and I sat on the steps of Trafalgar Square. Before you ask, I didn’t do a thing to this shot in PhotoShop. That glorious sky behind the church is all Mother Nature this time.

MIA? FLA!

Yes, dear denizens, it’s time once again to play “Where In the World Is Was Loba San Diego?”

(Thank you to those two Carmen San Diego fans who still laugh whenever I pull that one out of my hat.)

Snow wears you down, denizens. Wears you down and wears you out. If I have to haul another shovel-full of sludge, I might snap. So I packed up a ditty bag and rolled out for “The Happiest Place on Earth.”

North Platte, Nebraska.

I keed! I keed! I’m not even allowed in the state of Nebraska ever since that horrible corn husking accident back in ’87.

Where was I? Oh, yeah…Orlando! No, not Bloom. Florida. Home of Disney World, which ironically I completely circumnavigated the entire time I was there. Any place that allows the congregation of that much “little people” energy is as scary to me as a crib notes-free palm is to Sarah Palin.

POKE THE BEAR!!!

I was a work stowaway, sneaking in under the watchful eye of others who had to work while Loba was there to play. It wasn’t quite as warm as I had hoped it would be, but anything above the freezing mark is going to be a marked improvement. Plus…I saw grass! And sunshine!! And I now randomly emphasize my words to sound more like William Shatner!!!

There’s something so comforting about Florida. It’s home to so many childhood vacation memories. All I have to do is get a whiff of that sulfur-scented water and I’m right back at 10 years old, brushing my teeth at the latest Days Inn we’ve stopped at for the night (because at Days Inn, Kids Eat Free!), getting ready for bed but too wired to sleep because I know in the morning, we’re going to ___________________ (insert any random Florida attraction name in blank)!!

For this trip, I went back to one of those attractions that my dad took us to that I don’t think I truly appreciated at the time: the Ringling Museum. Yes, the Ringling of Ringling Brothers circus fame. John Ringling, to be precise, and his lovely wife Mable. It’s a strange destination, I know, but my family has a special relationship with the circus (anyone cracks a bearded lady joke here and your ass is grass). Plus, in addition to circus museums, there’s a huge art museum, beautiful gardens, and the Ringlings’ house, C

BEVATAR

I’m foregoing Flashback Friday this week, denizens. Today was hella busy at work (it was the first day back in the actual office since last Friday), and the more I thought about writing a flashback, the more irrationally irascible I became. So instead I’m posting my latest Gates McFadden/Beverly Crusher-inspired PhotoShop trickery.

Do I really need to say how much this poster delights me? If only this had been the movie Cameron made…

Oh, and you can see ZomBeverly here, in case you missed her the first time around.

BookBin2010: The Complete Far Side

As I’m sure you’ve deduced, I’ve had a bit of free time on my hands as of late. So I spent two days reading The Complete Far Side: 1980-1994, which I received for my last birthday. Obviously, this wasn’t ever a read that I was considering culling from the book herd. It’s just, I needed something light to balance the very heavy, very “don’t you feel stupid because it’s taking you so long to read me” book that I’ve been slogging through for the better part of a month now.

But we’ll get to that book soon enough. I hope.

Back to The Far Side. There are only four comics that I have ever collected in book form: Calvin and Hobbes, The Far Side, Liberty Meadows, and Peanuts. Liberty Meadows is part of this list because I have a massive case of fangirl lust for Frank Cho. I think he is a master of his craft and the comics page has been that much duller since it lost his enviable artistic presence. Yeah, his humor is a bit blue for the family funnies, but it almost always made me laugh. Cho now draws for Marvel Comics, which makes him even more awesome in my eyes, but I definitely miss the gang at Liberty Meadows. Plus, I’m still waiting for the final collection to be released so that I can complete my set (yeah, I do know how nerdy that sounded).

As for the others, well, of course Peanuts is in there because it has always been such a huge part of my life. Charles Schulz did a wonderful thing with Snoopy and the gang, although his shtick did wear a bit thin throughout probably the final decade of the strip. Still, it’s a classic.

So is Bill Watterson’s offering. Calvin and his stuffed tiger never failed to make me think, make me laugh, make me look forward to the next day’s adventure. This is one of the most perfect cartoons, made even more so by the fact that Watterson didn’t overstay his welcome at all. He definitely left his fans wanting for more. He was, for all intents and purposes, the anti-Schulz. Whereas Chuck was willing to sell the Peanuts imagery to anyone who wanted to pay for it, Watterson refused to let anyone turn his creation into the same marketing bonanza. I have such utter respect for him for that.

Finally, then, I come to the point. Literally. Gary Larson and his bizarre one-panel world of The Far Side. He’s pretty much in the middle of the Watterson-Schulz marketing spectrum. His comics aren’t everywhere, but you can still find them on calendars, mugs, and T-shirts (I still happily wear my “You’re sick, Jessy! Sick, sick, sick!” T-shirt).

I love Larson for his decidedly FAR left of center take on life. Within the confines of that one little comic panel, we saw daily the depths of his creativity, his silliness, and quite possibly his slow mental decline. But each one was funny. Okay, perhaps there were a few that might have been funny if I’d understood them. But for the most part, they always made me laugh. Some made me laugh so hard, I may have snorted. I’m not telling you which ones though.

The complete collection is a MASSIVE tome: a two-volume set that, together, is more than 1,200 pages of Larson. The artist even calls this set an “18-pound hernia giver.” I don’t know if that’s truly how much this set weighs, but I can tell you that lifting it daily for only a few months will help you significantly in your quest to no longer need anyone’s assistance in opening those stubborn pickle jars in your fridge.

If you are missing your Larson fix, you need this collection. Every single Far Side comic, including those that have never before appeared in previous books and those comics that have only appeared in books, are included in this collection. Also included are introductory pieces from Larson at the beginning of every year’s worth of comics. Cute little stories either about his childhood, his artistic influences, or just random ramblings that still somehow tangentially relate to his comics.

Plus, scattered throughout the comics are letters received by Larson, Universal Press Syndicate, or newspapers that ran the comic throughout the Far Side years. Some of them are from people who don’t get a particular strip and are asking for an explanation. Some are from people who have names that are the same as a Far Side resident. Many are from detractors, people asking their papers to stop running the strip. Most often, these people are rabid fundamentalists taking offense at Larson’s latest take on religion.

Why is it that the religious are such a decidedly humorless group, yet they’ve spawned some of the funniest people? I mean, come on…Jimmy Swaggert’s “I have sinned” speech is one to rival the comic masters! Especially when he was found with the same hooker a week later. Gold.

Anyway, bottom line is that Larson remains one of my all-time favorite comic artists. His world was always bizarre, always provocative, and always fun. Now if they would just release a DVD of the one Halloween special that Larson made for television, I’d be a major happy Far Side camper.

Stir-Crazy Still Life

Bananas aspire to have a little Captain ON them.
It's pronounced WhitTARD. Stupid Yank.
They just don't taste right without Snap, Crackle, AND Pop.
I told you not to look out there...
Now with 10 percent more liquified Flying Purple People Eater!
Things got ugly when they realized there was only enough ice cream for one more sundae...
Click and lust after my nerd shelf, denizens! LUST, I say!!
Beautiful from a distance...

The Unbearable Whiteness of Being

I feel like I’m stuck in a Forrest Gumpian storm right now.

We been through every kind of [snow] there is. Little bitty stingin’ [snow]… and big ol’ fat [snow]. [Snow] that flew in sideways. And sometimes [snow] even seemed to come straight up from underneath.

The entire state is under a blizzard warning. Wind gusts up to 50 mph. Not expected to stop until 7 tonight. Oh, and by the way, if you click on the photo to the right, look for the little black mark in the snow. That’s a park bench.

Needless to say, my office is closed again, as is the federal government. As is really most everything in the area.

I’m sorry to keep blathering on about the snow. I can’t seem to think about anything else. All this blinding whiteness has permeated my brain cells. All I see are glittery, flittery flakes. All I can hear is the cold, silent sizzle of snow piling on top of more snow.

I totally regressed this morning when I finally hauled my chilled bones out of bed. I made myself a bowl of Cream of Wheat. That was what my dad would always make me during the winter: Cream of Wheat, buttered toast, and hot chocolate poured into my special mug from Silver Springs in Florida. Home of the famous glass bottom boats. Also where six Tarzan movies were filmed, along with The Creature From the Black Lagoon and the television show Sea Hunt. Actually, quite a bit has been filmed at Silver Springs. Check it out.

I miss our annual family vacations to Florida. True, sometimes we went to major attractions like Disney or Sea World. But my dad had a proclivity for finding the places far off the beaten path. Places like Silver Springs or Cypress Gardens. Gatorland. Marine Land. My dad still has a collection of hats from almost every single place we ever visited.

One of the last trips we took together, we all went to Bok Tower Gardens, with their beautiful singing carillon tower and the tamest, plumpest squirrels I’ve ever seen. They’d skitter down the trees and amble over, waving their tail plumes in greeting as they came. Of course, if you didn’t have a peanut or two for them, you risked having one climb up your leg. Best to have some nuts for them.

I wonder what those squirrels would think of all this snow.

When I was 6 years old, my parents dropped me off at school. It had snowed the night before, enough to cause school to open 2 hours late. So at around 10:30, I climbed out of my dad’s Dodge Dart, the infamous “Yellow Submarine,” and headed into the trailer where my first-grade class took place. Only when I opened the door, the lights were off and the trailer was completely empty and cold.

I still remember that panic of thinking that I was about to be left all alone at my school. I remember jumping off the little porch to the trailer and running after my parents as they drove away, crying out for them to stop.

I also remember the patch of ice that I hit, and how said patch projectile-rocketed me about five feet forward and to the right of my dad’s car. Thank goodness it didn’t shoot me completely straight. I might still be sporting a Dodge symbol scar on my forehead.

My parents thankfully heard me, as did the teacher in the trailer two down from my class’s trailer. Seems that he was supposed to be watching for students and telling them to come to his classroom. Seems he sucked at his assignment. Such is life.

To this day, however, I have an innate fear of ice. Pardon the pun, but I freeze on ice. Feeling the terrain slip beneath my feet puts me right back at 6 years old, shooting across the parking lot in a panic as my parents drive away. It totally sucks.

Kind of like unending snow. Ha! Didn’t think I could bring this one back around, did you?

Yeah, I’m just going bat-shit crazy at this point. But I’ve just found a CSI marathon on SpikeTV. Looks like they’re playing good episodes from early in the series. The Grissom Years. Ooh, and this episode stars Kate Vernon, she soon known as Ellen Tigh to BSG fans. So I must jet. I’ll probably be back though. It’s not like I’m going anywhere else today…

OMGPuppies!

Uh…so I have a lot of spare time on my hands lately. First, it was Puppy Bowl on Sunday. Why did no one tell me about Puppy Bowl before? I now randomly yell “Puppy Touchdown” for no apparent reason and now have something to make Toilet Super Bowl Sunday more palatable.

And today, while scrubbing listservs and updating code, I streamed this:

http://www.ustream.tv/flash/live/1/317016Streaming live video by Ustream

Could there be a cuter Webcam? I’m sure it’s got quite the short shelf life, but I’m enjoying it while it’s here. You should, too!

PUPPY TOUCHDOWN!

DVDregs: Big Fish

Yes, that’s right…not even the movies from Loba’s directorial gods are safe from this culling. And so it is that a Tim Burton movie has made its way to my chopping block. This is 2003’s Big Fish, starring Albert Finney, Ewan McGregor, Jessica Lange, Alison Lohman, Helena Bonham Carter, Steve Buscemi, Marion Cotillard, Danny DeVito, Robert Guillaume, and Billy Crudup.

I saw this film at the theater, but it coincided with some personal matters that obfuscated the memory of the movie itself and left it intrinsically linked with said “bad patch.” So, even though I instinctively purchased the movie when it was released on DVD, as any right and proper Burtonian disciple is apt to do (with the exception of the shit bog known as Planet of the Apes, ownership of which is illegal in 47 of the 50 states), I never watched it. Each time I looked at the case, all that came to mind was the unhappiness that surrounded the original viewing. So it’s just been sitting on my shelf, for almost 6 years, completely untouched by anything more than dust bunnies and the occasional vacuum attachment.

Until now.

Based on a novel by Daniel Wallace, this is a two-tiered tale in which a son struggles to come to terms with the imminent death of a father he’s never really understood, while trying to sift out the truth of his father’s elusive life from the myriad tall tales his father has always spun. It’s a somewhat stock Hollywood story, fleshed out with a bit of Burton-bizarre panache. Really, it’s two movies taking place simultaneously: the father/son piece, dominated by Albert Finney as Edward Bloom and Billy Crudup as his son Will; and the more fantastical flashbacks of the father’s embellished life, dominated by Ewan McGregor as Finney’s younger counterpart. I guess, though, you could view the flashbacks as several different mini-movies, visual vignettes that when pulled together, form the pastiche of Edward Bloom’s life.

Sounds a bit cacophonous, doesn’t it? I suspect in the hands of a less-skilled director, this movie could have found 100 different ways to unravel, crumble, explode, and immolate itself. However, Burton and screenwriter John August somehow hold it all together, keeping it at a smooth, swift pace that resists getting bogged down under the weight of all that it’s trying to accomplish in the space of 125 minutes.

I can understand why this movie wasn’t that big a hit with audiences. Those new to Burton’s world were probably frightened away by the level of sinister whimsy that Burton injects into all his films, while long-time fans of his work might have considered this level to be somewhat shallow in comparison with his earlier classics like Edward Scissorhands or Beetlejuice. There’s also a more pronounced mainstream sentimentality to this Burton film, which I can see would be off-putting to his more diehard fans. However, there’s an even, almost subdued tone to the more emotional aspects of this story, which gives it a surprising sincerity. Needless to say, the end moments, including the final scenes between Will and Edward, left me quite the soppy mess. Stoicism be damned, it was a satisfying conclusion that didn’t seem at all overwrought or cloying even if it was somewhat predictable.

I know that a lot of people have problems with Ewan McGregor, and I do agree that when McGregor isn’t enthusiastic about a role, it all turns to shit in the blink of an eye (see Star Wars prequels). However, I found him to be delightful as the young Edward Bloom. Another stand-out from this cast was Alison Lohman, who absolutely blew me away in last year’s awesomeness known as Drag Me to Hell (another Loba-approved movie!). Albert Finney is delightful as the older Bloom, and you really can’t ask for a more powerful supporting cast than one that includes talents like Buscemi, DeVito, Bonham Carter, Cotillard, and Guillaume.

Also, this is one of the last times you’ll get a chance to see Jessica Lange before she traded in her original face for one of perpetual surprise. It’s a shame, really, because I’ve always thought that Lange was both a beautiful and capable actress. She impressed me here for her willingness to take on a role that some actresses of her caliber might have considered too small or too beneath them…and she brings to it all her light and skill.

The only actor I have problems with in this movie is Billy Crudup. But that’s just because I think IRL he’s a douchewanger. I know that I shouldn’t judge his acting ability through the lens of knowing that he left Mary-Louise Parker for Claire Danes, while Parker was pregnant with their child…but I do. This also really dampens my enthusiasm for Danes as well. Still, Crudup is capable as Will Bloom and pulls off beleaguered without stepping too far into the depths of mawkishness.

DVD Special Features: Burton provides a commentary track, although it’s unlike any commentary I’ve heard thus far. It’s more like an interview being given in sync with a viewing of the movie. I can’t remember the name of the bloke interviewing him, but he did a splendid job of never letting the pace falter or letting the discussion dry up. He knew Burton’s oeuvre well, and he also knew when to shut up and let Burton take the reins, and when to jump back in and give Burton the prodding he needed to continue the commentary’s conversation. It’s an enjoyable mix of technical talk, behind-the-scenes storytelling, and glimpses into some of Burton’s other cinematic endeavors. He speaks most often of Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (already a documented Loba favorite) and his 1989 take on Batman, which remains not only one of my favorite superhero movies but also my favorite of the modern-day Batman movies.

Beyond the commentary, there are numerous featurettes, including: The Character’s Journey on “Edward Bloom at Large,” “Amos at the Circus,” and “Fathers and Sons”; The Filmmakers’ Path on “Tim Burton: Storyteller,” “A Fairytale World,” “Creature Features,” and “The Author’s Journey”; and The Finer Points: A Tim Burton Trivia Quiz (which sadly I almost aced in one try). There’s a proper dose of sunshine-pumping throughout all the extras, but there’s also a lot of information about special effects, CGI, casting, story development, et cetera that make each extra worth watching.

Final Verdict: All critical commentary and subjective issues aside, this revisit has shown me that there is much to love about this Burtonesque fairytale. Plus, the special features did wonders in pushing this DVD far into the safety zone. This one has earned its reprieve and delighted me with how much I truly enjoyed this “big fish” tale.

And So It Begins…

Remember all the times that I’ve talked about the English singing sensation known as Craig Bevan?

No?! Why not? What, do you think I type things here for my own personal amusement?

Okay, don’t answer that. Just go here and here so you can catch up with the conversation.

Finished? May I continue now? Okay, good. So this is what’s happening now with the Fabulosity Known As Bevan:

Local talent shines in the UK