Last post of the decade. And the blog.

Hiya! Just wanted to wish a happy new year and new decade to anybody who happens to be reading.

Also, I have to mention that I feel a change of blog coming on. http://iatemyhouse.blogspot.com/ is where you might find my ramblings from now on. There's nothing there now, but there will be.

I created this blog because I was unhappy with my old one. I didn't like anything I wrote there, and I deleted it. I like many things I wrote here, so I will probably leave them. I just feel like using my old account again. This is mostly because I like the name I Ate My House better. Cruisin' With Dasha ain't too bad, but it's a Frank Zappa reference, whereas the other one arrived straight from my head. Yeah, I'm sure lots of people used that phrase before. Possibly in the context of gingerbread houses. However, I did come up with it independently, would you believe, and now I pretty much type it in every username slot that I come across. It's become a trademark of sorts.

Yep, that concludes my presentation. I think I want to go and start celebrating now. I'm late already.

Christmas decorating with Pentagram

I was putting up my family's Christmas lights while listening to Pentagram. I know - ain't nothing like Pentagram to get you in that yuletide spirit. Charlie Brown and his friends better form a fucking doom metal band, or something. Same goes for Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Anyways, I'm still fairly new to Pentagram, but there are a couple of songs from Relentless that I listened the hell out of over the past six months (particularly "Sign of the Wolf" and the title track, "Relentless"). In doing so, I somehow ignored this one:

Today, it really captured my attention; it's so simple, yet so good. It's got that Paranoid-esque riff, and they definitely make it their own. And then there's the riff at 1:17 that's absolutely awesome. It's what I love about classic doom metal; it makes so much out of so few elements; great use of repetition, too. Maybe it's just me, though; you could write variations on the same doom riffs, and I'd probably rock out like I've never heard anything like it before. I really dig Bobby Liebling's voice (at least in the old days; no idea what he sounds like now) - it appears deceivingly ordinary at first, and the sinister quality to it kind of sneaks up on you.

Fun with ice

The good thing about freezing weather: you can play with, on, and in ice. What I like to do most is break off a slice, and then shatter it on an ice-covered surface. You could, for example, break a piece of ice from the corner of a pond, and then throw it in the middle. You will see it shatter into a myriad of pieces, and there is going to be that one breathtaking moment when they all slide away from each other in asymmetrical yet seemingly choreographed trajectories. And that beautiful sound! It's not everyday that you get to hear it, unless you break things quite often. I suggest doing this at the local park, but I also suggest bringing a friend, if you mind having strangers glance dubiously in your direction.

Bonus rhetorical question: WHAT is the point of practicing your boxing moves right in front of an apartment building? I saw a guy do that today. Unless you're crazy, desperate for attention, or need to publicly assert your manliness least your balls combust, you should just go to the aforementioned local park, where you can proceed both undisturbed and without disturbing or annoying others. Maybe he was a performance artist, like Zanta.

Half Past Four; "Johnny" video

My friends in Half Past Four released a new video recently:



It's a really cool song; some catchy riffs, sweet melodies, and smooth keyboard action there. I think the tone of the video suits it. It is quite dreamy, just as they envisioned it. I really like the drummer, Ann Brody's, lovely dress. There's a cute part at 1:30, when she picks up a teacup, that's very Alice In Wonderland.

Gee, the video reminds me, we have beautiful summers in Canada, don't we? That just makes me hate today all the more; it's freezing, and my face hurts.

Fantastic Mr. Fox + how being a social sciences student rewires your brain

Hmm, I don't believe I posted a link to the Fantastic Mr. Fox review I wrote for the TFS a week ago. Here it is. I'm quite proud of that one. I might even want to see the movie again sometime.

The review already ended up a little too long, so my feminist critique didn't find a place in it (also, it's not really the point of the site where it's posted, so I try not to include it every single time). I was just recently thinking about women in Wes Anderson movies...in general, his female characters aren't particularly superficial or tokenistic, but they do seem to be on the periphery. It's like he doesn't really understand women, but he doesn't pretend to. (Unlike Judd Apatow, who both doesn't understand women and pretends that he does.) I don't know, should I watch all Wes Anderson movies again over the holidays, and write a critique of sorts, instead of a rambling blurb? I could even submit it to some magazine or blog. We'll see.

It's funny/interesting/cool/annoying how much being a social sciences student (in my case, sociology and mostly cultural anthropology) permanently changes the way you look at things. I can't really consume any cultural product anymore without thinking about its social implications. Gee, I watched Jeeves and Wooster the other day, and I don't even see THAT the same way anymore! (And it used to be one of my favourite "escape from the world" shows/book series.) Instead of just an amusing, whimsical comedy where people dress sharp and say lots of peculiar things like "Oh Jeebles!", all these class issues started popping up at me. It made me uncomfortable to see what huge houses and castles some of the families had - why would a couple of people need such an obscene amount of space? you could put a whole village in there! - and, gah, the whole role of the servants! Plus, the wealthy characters' sense of entitlement just made them that much less sympathetic. Class issues in the world of P.G. Wodehouse. That's another idea. I wish I had a course where I could actually made a paper out that.

Well, at least Jeeves appeared to me as awesome a character as ever.

"Samhein" by Pagan Altar

Total mispronunciation (and misspelling?) of "Samhain" aside (not that I blame them; most of us have too much COOL STUFF to do to learn to figure out how to read Gaelic words), doesn't this song completely rock?



I love the old-school doom metal sound, but it has a bit of a Rainbow type of mood as well; just something about the melody. Gee, I don't know; I'm not very music-literate - I just judge by the feel.

I wish I discovered this song/band about a month earlier, so I could have posted it on October 31st or November 1st, which is when the titular harvest festival takes place. Wouldn't that have been fitting? Alas, fate has doomed me to be a Johnny-come-lately. It's still a great song to listen to.

Critiquing "Ladies of the Road" lyrics

I might have mentioned that I am now listening to each King Crimson album for a week, once daily.

My most recent album of the week was Islands. It's one of the softer and more wistful King Crimson albums, I'd say. It focuses on some really beautiful melodies, and if you like the sound of flute, you might find some there. Just about everything on this album is perfect, except for “Ladies of the Road”. Seriously, I get such a wonderful buzz from the beginning of this album, and then that song comes on, and I go “Argh! Ugh! NO! Gross, gross, gross!” It’s mostly because of the lyrics. I dislike them for the following reasons:

*To me, combining the words “King Crimson” and “groupies” is like combining “parents” and “lube”. I do not want to know. Especially if it involves Robert Fripp. Hiding behind his monitor at the concert where I saw him is how I prefer to envision him.

*Nope, not even King Crimson can pull off a verse about oral sex that doesn’t contain an element of humour or, at the very lest, detachment. I always wondered about that.Unless, of course, they wanted it to sound awkward.

*I’m just not into the whole groupie thing. That subculture somehow became so glamorized, but, to me, it seems kind of pathetic at best. I mean, you got to dress up, give blowjobs, and go shower up at home. How fulfilling is that? Sure, if it was fun for some people, they should very well have done what they wanted, but why did it become a well-known social and cultural phenomenon in its own right? How did it become almost a career of sorts? I think the groupie subculture of the 60s and 70s only increased that stereotype of men as musicians and women as audience/eye candy/sex objects. If those kids were such big fans, why didn’t they pick up some instruments, and rock a little? Sexual metaphors aside, it's really more satisfying to feel your own Fender. You could still have sex with whoever you want. What's my point? The whole vintage groupie culture annoys me, and I don't like to be reminded of it by this song.

*Most importantly - “Ladies of the Road” sure does stink of sexism, and possibly even racism. Ugh! The whole thing with comparing groupies to apples is clear objectification, and it indicates a view of inequality in a sexual encounter/relationship - like they think women don't enjoy it on the same terms. It has this archaic view of females as something to be "picked" and consumed, not as free agents who seek their own enjoyment. Also, the second verse could potentially be interpreted as rape, or at least harassment. Wow, members of King Crimson might have harassed some unsuspecting hippie! Way to go, gentlemen!

And where the hell did Peter Sinfield get “Please, me no surrender?” The proper use of “I” and “me” is what we non-native-English-speakers learn in our 2^nd English language class. I could be wrong about that – maybe my learning experience was different from that of the Chinese King Crimson groupie - though I still dislike the Asian stereotype that the phrase embodies. If it’s not outright cultural ignorance, it certainly shows selective perception of the way non-white people act.

Oh well, the good thing about this song is that it, too, ends at some point. And it has some killer sax solos, at least.

Today I’m switching to Larks’ Tongues In Aspic. Finally! My favourite album of the pre-Adrian-Belew era, and no more “Ladies of the Road”.

Two nights of Devo

Seeing Devo twice was truly an epic experience, just as I'd anticipated. Granted, the concerts were pretty short, but they packed the small quantity with quite a lot of quality.

JP Incorporated opened for Devo both nights. I thought he was a hilarious guy - he had all these songs about cheesy things, with videos to accompany them - and some people seemed to like him - he got a whole bunch of hecklers on the first night, though. When will people learn some respect? Even if you don't like it, some other people might, and the band clearly chose him, so how do you expect to make them happy and pumped by yelling out their name during the opener? Gah.

Both times, I stood right up close to the stage - the very front on the first night, and second row on the second. Hence, I managed to snap some half-decent photos, which I'm very proud of.

The first night:

They played the Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo album. I was quite impressed by how much energy they have - Mark Mothersbaugh jumped into the audience a bunch of times; he had a roadie following him throughout the shoving escapade, seeing as he's legally blind. He also danced around with pop poms, and was generally full of antics. They encored with "Smart Patrol/Mr. DNA" and "Gates of Steel". I really wish they played more songs from other records; I can't complain though, for the all the awesomeness they pulled in the limited time they performed.

Treasures from the first night:

Devo ripped off or otherwise removed their yellow suits, and threw them into the audience. Bob Mothersbaugh was about to throw away his pants, and, since I was standing and yelling right in front of him, he just handed them to me. They're nearly in one piece! Now I've got a bit of rock history, right here in my own home. Not sure what I shall do with them; need to find a suitable way to display them. Keeping them rolled up in my closet doesn't seem fitting. Perhaps I'll get a mannequin or something, and put my handmade energy dome on it too. Where could I get such a thing?

The second night:

That time around, they played the Freedom of Choice album. Mark Mothersbaugh was a little less wild (he still did a whole lot of wacky dancing, though), and they kept their costumes intact, but, needless to say, it was still fantastic. I don't think that album has a single song that's not amazing - not that I've ever heard any Devo song I didn't like. I do think "Whip It" is a bit overrated, though it's still enjoyable. The encore included "Be Stiff" and "Beautiful World", during which Booji Boy made a welcome appearance:

In case you're not a Devo enthusiast, Booji Boy is probably the most elaborate figure in their mythology; he's played by Mark Mothersbaugh. He sang the rest of the song; then delivered a speech about running into Michael Jackson back in the day, and going to Neverland Ranch. Being a huge Jackson fan, I was standing there, going "Oh no, they're not going to make some stupid asshole obvious joke, are they?" And they didn't disappoint! What was I expecting - it's Devo. Booji Boy just finished it by saying how he misses Michael Jackson - very tastefully.

Treasures from the second night:

I caught a bunch of smiley face balls that Booji Boy was throwing into the audience. They're very bouncy. My cat just hates them.

Well, that was loads of fun; can't say there was much I didn't like about those concerts. The wait was a bit too long, even for an average show at the Phoenix. I also didn't think playing their old videos before they came onstage was a great idea; more excitement would have been sustained if they just appeared.

Get well, Dio!

This is my third post in about an hour, but it's worth it.

Apparently, Ronnie James Dio is now in the hospital, and I hope he gets better soon. Maybe if we all listen to a Dio album at the same time, it'll magically restore his health. I vote for Dream Evil, but we can settle on Holy Diver, since that's the one everybody pretty much agrees on.

Dio, please get well, and visit us in Toronto! It would make my life that much more complete to see you live. But even if you never come here, just feel better, and live forever, allright? Good.

My review of Mary and Max

On Friday, I went to see Mary and Max, which was my first venture out of the house in over two weeks, not counting going to the doctor. I reviewed it for the TFS.

As you might gather from the review, the movie was quite a mixed bag for me, and I'm still not sure whether to congratulate it for the whole valiant attempt of including a character with Asperger's, or be upset about the highly imperfect job they've done with it. As Finbar said, it's not a movie for someone with Asperger's; it's definitely a movie for neurotypical people. I think, most people wouldn't even notice what was wrong with the way they've tried to represent that condition, but, if you're familiar with it, it just jumps out at you, how unsubtle and one-sided it is.