Carte Postale - Farewell 2014

I've been telling myself I was going to write this for weeks.  Weeks and weeks and weeks... You get the point.

This is also a notice of temporary closure, of course.  I've been failing to keep a grip on my own self-imposed schedule for too long almost, although Christmas has a habit of doing that to you.  Notwithstanding the fact that I hate Christmas, having to be fucking jolly all the time, more the fact that there's just so much choir to deal with.  This year in particular has been particularly not stress free, what with the world premieres for the Advent Carol Service, the usual concert madness, and then another world first in filming Nine Lessons and Carols for DVD release (including the incredible disappearing red hat)... But then normal service resumed with Festal Curry, all the descants and what I can only describe as the Festival of English Cadences on Christmas Morning.  Honourable mention goes to the Lay Clerks of Peterborough Cathedral, who lost one of their own this Christmas, which must have been (and probably still is) nothing short of just... The worst.

It's impossible not to write something today without some kind of token comment about the year as well, so much so that I even anticipated it in the title.  2014 has been a weird one.  I lost one on my best mates.  I watched another one get married.  What is it with these caffeine shampoo adverts that are taking over my ad breaks?  It becomes increasingly difficult to think about this year clearly as we barrel towards the start of the next.  What's really happened?  I suppose the more relevant question is "what's going to happen next?".  I suppose you're expecting me to make some sort of list of resolutions?  Please.  There are a couple of things that I have to do, true, but it's not like I'm ever going to do anything so ridiculous as make a resolution.  The last resolution I made was never to make a New Year's resolution again, and that was 2009.  Yes, I really did that... 

Anyway.  Temporary closure.  I say closure.  I'm going to give publishing a rest for a fortnight officially, and try to just... Catch up on the schedule I tried to establish.  Every Christmas I let choir take over my life, so I fell behind.  There's also a theory knocking about that I've been quite seriously depressed (again), which I'd hardly like to comment on here and now.  I haven't written anything about the books I've read, and I owe somebody a recipe.  I also need to sort my life out (just like always).  New Year might be as good a time as any to do so, but what about all the other days of the year?  It's never too late.

The last blog I ran came to a natural end and fulfilled its purpose, a backdrop to being miserable in houses and having a dreadful time singing.  No choir director has accused me of lying again or since, thankfully.  This time, there isn't really a purpose, which is probably one of the reasons I've found it so easy to not write recently.  Such a poor excuse... I'm sorry, he said to himself.  I need to stop torturing myself.  I need to think hard about what's going to happen next, my immediate future and also my future at large: not an easy task.  I've never had a five year plan because five years is an impossibly long time for me to imagine.  In 17 days, I'll be 25, which means I'll have lived through five of these five year blocks, but it's okay because the digits add up to 7, which means everything will be alright... Right?  I remember giving something very precious on the 7th of the 7th.  That was good.  I didn't say half the things I meant to or I wanted to, and that was just that day, let alone all the others.

This is the first New Year since I moved out that I haven't been home.  I'm not sure that I like it really.  At least had I have gone back up, I could have sat in HQ until I was no longer sober.  This year... Money's tight.  Tighter than comfortable.  I shouldn't really go out drinking, could you imagine the money I'd hemorrhage!  Invites to parties and whatever are completely lacking, which tells me all I need to know. 

This is the last you'll hear from here for a little bit.  Give me a fortnight or something, but don't call it a comeback.  Think of me, sat drinking tea and pepsi, watching films and reading cookery books into eternity.  Focus your prayers and positive energy so I can discover my true purpose in this life.  Call on your Gods.  I recently bought this quality volume of hardcore pornography (right) - something to keep me warm through these lonely winter nights, of which much will be forthcoming.  If you're lucky, I might even make you a bagel.  Might.





Anyway, it's almost time.  There's just under 8 hours to go here until it breaks, and I can't wait, I can HARDLY CONTAIN MYSELF for another thrilling and exciting year to come, can you?  It can hardly be worse than this one (dangerous talk), can it?  

I'll see you on the other side.

Eat it: LL&P

Lamb, Leek and Potato!  I swear it's more interesting than it sounds.

There are no photos for this, I apologise, but there weren't any for the last recipe (but I am sending pictures for fish of the day - more on that later), so whatever.  I'm normally actually cooking rather than thinking about taking photos of food (unless I'm going to instagram it OF COURSE).  This week, a classic: Lamb steak with saute potatoes and leek

INGREDIENTS

Leg of Lamb steak       New or Baby Potatoes       Half a Leek (the white half)       
4-5 rashers of smoked bacon       Dried Herbs: Rosemary, Sage and Oregano       Salt and Pepper

METHOD

First of all, prep everything.  I chuck stuff into bowls so it's all ready to go rather than leave it lying around on the board (because I only have the one chopping board anyway), so get the veg ready to go.  I cube the potatoes really quite small, like less than a half inch, maybe a centimetre (whatever that is) cubed for this.  I'd say it'll work with any size but the larger the cubes the longer it'll take to cook.  I slice mine into thirds to get the right size here, but it's really up to you.  I go for 3 or 4 potatoes, you want enough to cover the frying pan you'll be using.  Cut the root end off the leek and then halve that again, so you have two semicircular bits, and slice them up.  Then chop the bacon rashers down into little strips - Lardons will also work here, but I had some leftover from another meal I prepared.  With all these ready, set them aside and get a heavy bottomed frying pan on medium to high heat with some olive oil in.

Spread some olive oil on the board and lay the lamb steaks on top.  I bought some prepacked nonsense from the Co-Op because it was reduced to mere pennies, but never forget your local butcher is far more likely to know more and be extremely helpful with this kind of thing.  Don't get anything too thin, we're not frying featherblades here.  Cut diagonally across the surface of the meat on both sides, and don't be afraid to cut either through the fat on the side or too deep (well, not too deep).  Rub in the dried herbs and the salt and pepper - my learned colleague Petrus Humanus once waxed lyrical about the virtues of sage and he is not wrong my friends, it is excellent.  

Place the steaks into the frying pan with the fatty side touching the edge.  Now, I like my lamb pretty rare, but something like 3 minutes on one side and then two minutes on the other should be perfect.  Set them aside on a plate and get the bacon in the pan.  If you need to, put a drop more olive oil in to make sure it doesn't stick too much.  Once the bacon is merrily sizzling, add in the potato and the leek, and turn the heat down a little, and add a pinch of salt to the proceedings.  I'll be honest here - I don't really keep my eye on the time for this, but stir occasionally and look out for the corners of the potato cubes to colour for how near it is to be ready.  Once their getting a little crisp, reintroduce the lam to the pan and pour in any juices from the plate they sat on.  Shake the pan to ensure that everything gets covered in all the juices and stuff and let it cook out for 2-3 minutes.  Take off the heat and get the saute onto the plate and place the steaks on top.  Service!

@~#~@

This kind of meat and potatoes schtick is a tale as old as time (a song as old as rhyme?) and you can pretty much apply it to anything.  I chose the leek to accompany lamb with its slightly more subtle flavour; if I was pan frying chicken with this, I'd use a red onion.  Anyway, this is an easy supper for one that shouldn't take more than a half hour start to finish.

Next week: Fish of the Day - a guest appearance somewhere else!  Hopefully.  When I actually write it. 

Remember Me

It's almost time to free fall into the end of the year.  Fantastic.

I don't know how many times I use that expression, actually.  We're always free falling into the end of a year, because that's the only way that a year seems to end nowadays.  Choir is basically my life, after all; I don't think there's any other way to really explain it.  It's either the end of the 'Christian year', or it's the end of the calendar year, or it's the end of yet another year singing and time for my anniversary (this one will be my 17th!), or it's the end of the academic year and then everything really is over.  Will I cry this year?  Or will I finally have got over myself?  Will I finally learn that people just... Move on?  Perhaps I need to move on in order to fully understand.  I always say I never want to get stuck here, after all.

I hate Christmas.  No, wait: I really hate what Christmas has become.  No longer is Advent the sober prelude to one of the central points of belief in one of the dominant world religions (or that crazy made up cult, as I like to refer to it when it's all getting a little too serious round here), but is actually now the whole thing!  People put trees up and decorate their houses by mid-November, decorations are up in shops by the end of October!  It's too much, Master.  Worst of all is when you're not "on message", like me: persecuted for not being manically happy every second of every day and I get funny looks for not having my shit together on Christmas shopping and get victimised for not liking mince pies.  I've had it!  Even the Coca Cola truck has already been halfway round the country by now!

Christmas is of course the time of year that choirs reach critical mass, and there's more rehearsals and carol service and actually carols than ought to be strictly legal, people trying to get you to work for free, potentially horrific Secret Santa, and of course, the all important nights out after all the concerts and carols and carol concerts.  My voice is already shattered this year, after taking the extremely professional and effective decision of singing through a head cold... Although I don't really have much choice in the matter on that one.  The real problem is that I'm fast running out of homeopathic remedies (because I am obviously a dirty, dirty hippy), and if I take any more decongestants full of paracetamol I'll either ossify my throat or not be able to stop vomiting, neither of which are particularly inspiring or useful in my dream career as Cathedral Lay Clark and programme note writer - speaking of which THEY'RE DONE and will be up here on Sunday after the concert.  The fact that my voice just basically isn't working at critical strength, especially right now is a major downer on basically everything.  I kind of feel that I'm no good at what I'm supposed to be good at, so what hope do I have for anything else?

I dunno.  It'll be alright in the end, just like it is every year.  This year isn't exactly calm, due to recording the Nine Lessons and Carols on the 23rd, not to mention the usual Concert-9L&C-Midnight Mass-Christmas Day combo that plays out over just under a fortnight round here, and probably everywhere else.  Also on the cards this year is a concert in St. Mawes which ought to raise some much-appreciated funds for the tour to Belgium and northern France this summer.  I mean, it is the 100th anniversary of the Great War after all, so it would be a shame not to go... Actually, I'll probably be neither use nor ornament for most of it.  I spent ten hours sat at this very Kitchen table in June writing the notes for the Summer concert, the first half entirely composed of settings of WWI poetry, and must have cried my eyes out for four of them.  There's just something about having to condense that kind of stuff down without getting kind of sucked in to it - I can get to that place where it's all upset but I can't exactly get myself out again.  I don't remember having to fight for too much with the edit either... Anyway.  I digress.

I guess this is a kind of unwell, grumpy kind of post.  Another thing I seem to be overly aware of is the amount of young couples going round town at the moment - I suppose Christmas is meant to be romantic?  I constantly berate myself for not being able to get a date, and blame myself completely for the string of relationships I've had that start with so much promise... But end so badly.  It's almost as if I betray myself time after time, showing a consistent interest in people who have absolutely no feelings for me at all, and I've kind of moved to a position where I feel I have accept that I will just always be like this, you know, and I'm okay with that... And I am not okay with that.  Oh well.  I actively reject any kind of sympathy, but it's just something I've been thinking about, and if I can get it out here then maybe I can accept it and move on.  I do get angry though, that things just don't work.  

Anyway.  That's probably enough moaning for now.  I'm going to retire to my deliberately very cold room, and see how long it takes for me to freeze solid (update: 9 days and counting), and then hopefully by the time I wake up tomorrow, you never know... I might actually even feel better.

...Khan? : Retrospective

Due to both ill health and a rapidly approaching deadline, I am somewhat behind on my Week B schedule.  However, I offer this as a stop gap post for now, written originally in one sitting which is another transposed post from my former blog, which has been updated appropriately... First published 10th June, 2013.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since first seeing it some... Oh I dunno, thee weeks ago, I've gradually been coming to terms with Star Trek Into Darkness.  Of course, this amazing summer movie has been nothing short of an event, whether you liked it or not.  The thing is, I absolutely fucking loved it.  Went to the cinema, saw it in 3D, waved my arms about, probably shouted out loud a few times, and cried at the appropriate moments.  I did say I was going to see it again and take notes on all the 'Old Trek' universe references, but the time has been and gone and it's now no longer on at The Plaza on the cheap night.  What I did do however, was track down the classic 1967 episode of The Original Series Space Seed.  I don't really need to watch Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan again (it's not a necessity at least), because various parts of that film are BURNED INTO MY MIND AND WILL NEVER GO AWAY.  Because of being steeped in Trek history, I basically have three major problems with the film:

• The emotional crux of the film is essentially empty
• Not only is it empty, but it becomes a race for the McGuffin
• It is one reference after another and cherry picks elements from the above mentioned Khan stories
  

 Also a really funny thing I came across in one of trawls through the internet is that this film is like the John Harrison Ford action movie Raiders of the Lost Ark, where the film opens with the protagonist being chased by angry natives, and closes with the super-weapon being safely locked away... Who says Hollywood has run out of plots?  Anyway.

Are you sitting comfortably?  Are you ready to hate me, possibly yourself and maybe everything you know already?  Let's go then.  Don't worry though!  Because I hate absolutely everything already, so I am way ahead of you.  DID I MENTION I WILL SPOIL LITERALLY EVERYTHING IN THE FILM JESUS CHRIST YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE EVEN READ THE TITLE.

 We open to a brilliantly shot set-piece with Bones and Kirk pegging it through a jungle away from spear-toting natives, cut with Sulu and Uhura in a shuttle, about to dangle Spock (dressed as a disco ball) into a Volcano.  Turns out the Enterprise has been sat in the sea for the best part of two days, on a self-ordained mission to rescue the planet (without disturbing the natives) from the cataclysmic eruption of said volcano, by dropping a cold fusion bomb that freezes the eruption.  The one important moment in this section is where we end up with Spock stranded in the volcano READYING HIMSELF TO DIE after the immortal line 

• "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few... Or the one."
  

FORESHADOWING.  No?  Anyway, it wouldn't be much of a film (seeing as this is an impersonation of Wrath of Khan rather than The Search for Spock) if they killed Spock off before the opening titles, so of course, they raise the leviathan from the waves and rescue the green blooded son of a bitch.  We know that this isn't the only Star Trek sequel that does the old bait-and-switch on Spock dying.  For once we get to see the great and mighty ship in the atmosphere, which is something I really liked!  I remember that they put landing gear on the crate in Voyager, but I only saw the one episode where they landed the big ship?  There may be more, I didn't see every single one.


Okay.  We get introduced to 'John Harrison', the man with the magic blood (remember that).  The ultimate expression of Sherlock Holmes - cold, calculating, intellectually superior, misanthrophic, a gifted tactician and a talented combatant.  Just say if you know any old Star Trek, just say, who else do you know fits all those categories?  No... It can't be him?  Anyway.  He orchestrates the explosion of some super-secret research facility in the basement of London, not a stone's throw from Wren's St. Paul's OF COURSE IT'S STILL THERE Seriously guys they still have red buses.  Sherlock also performs a daring assault on Starfleet high command (only seconds after the comedy block-head Kirk works out why they've all been gathered there on that day ahead of everyone else in Starfleet including Spock) before beaming off to the Klingon Homeworld when Captain First Officer Kirk knackers up his snub-nose starfighter (transworld beaming because Starfleet pinched the transwarp equation without crediting Scotty - some sort of satire on Intellectual Property rights I think?), only moments before Kirk swears ADMIRALS' REVENGE.  The Wrath of Kirk!  After a tense meeting with Admiral Marcus, as portrayed by Robocop (check the desk out for yet more classic references), Kirk gets his Captaincy restored, his Spock returned, the Enterprise given back... and orders to kill 'John Harrison'.  Further to this, the Enterprise is armed with 72 super-secret long range proton photon torpedoes (does that number mean anything?).  When this magic missile payload appears in the engineering section, Scotty won't sign for them!  Not at this address mate!  He's not happy because they won't let him look at the secret ingredients.  The upshot of this is that Scotty gets kicked off the Enterprise, complete with his little wee Ugnaut man.  This frees him up to advance the plot later on after being absent for at least an... hour?  In his place, Eastern European stereotype Chekov stands in.  Alongside the torpedoes arrives Carol Wallace, who occupies the 'fit bird eyecandy' character archetype, that all Sci-Fi must have.  When they reach Qo'noS, holding position miles out with the magic missiles pointing at 'Harrison' Ford, while Kirk, Spock and Uhura (with two redshirts) dress up as smugglers and fly the Kessel Run in a prototype for the Millennium Falcon.  Spock and Uhura have a full on domestic in the Flying Hamburger. While all this is happening, Sulu is sat in the captain's chair (Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, anybody?  Sure, it's no Excelsior...)


Another high-speed fight scene gets cut, with the mirror universe Klingons... who look just like their Prime Universe (thankfully.  Right?) counterparts, which starts to get pretty hairy...until Sherlock appears and literally just kills the shit out of everybody who isn't in the principal cast.  He surrenders instantly after a grueling battle once he learns the exact number of torpedoes pointed at him.  Why?  Why would such a furious badass simply yield in a heartbeat like that?  What importance does the number 72 have?  And then Kirk punches him alllllllllllllllllllll day without Holmes even flinching.  They drag him back to the Enterprise where it is finally revealed that yes, Sherlock Holmes IS Peter Guillam!  Ho ho!  Of course, he is Khan Noonien Singh, the most dangerous of all the despotic genetically modified human beings from the Eugenics Wars of the 1990s in the Star Trek Universe (multiverse?).  Remember, the timeline only split when the Kelvin was destroyed at the start of the first film of this franchise.  Literally everything else up until that point was exactly the same -  Enterprise is still canon at this point, technically.  Where does that leave First Contact though?  I hope you remember the models on the desk - not just another nod, for once. After the underplayed reveal, he soothingly rumbles about the torpedoes, what's inside them?  What's inside is a game changer, and explains why the SS Botany Bay  isn't in the film, because we discover that as well as a highly explosive payload, they each contain a cryo-stasis pod with Khan's crew safely tucked away.  Before this we see Carol Marcus Wallace in her underwear.  Phwoar: It serves no narrative purpose.  Around this time, Khan gives Kirk a space postcode (spacecode?), which moves James Tiberius to call his friend and now free agent... Montgomery Scott!  Who is drinking whisky in a club.  He drives a shuttle craft over and discover a huge shipyard and manages to infiltrate... Dr. McCoy also takes a sample of Khan's blood.  Keep hold of that.

But it seems that this Khan is not a bad Khan?  It transpires that the Botany Bay was found in space, just like it was in the 'real' universe, but this time by Admiral "Robocop" Marcus.  Khan was awoken and used, used I say, to create weapons of mass destruction for space war (this is most unlike Khan Prime) with the Klingons.  Khan's crew are used as leverage by Marcus, and are included in the payload of each and every torpedo that was supplied to the Enterprise.  All of a sudden, loyalties are compromised.  A new ship appears, the USS Vengeance.  The captain is none other than Admiral Marcus, who is hunting down Khan as well.  Marcus orders that Khan be transferred aboard the Vengeance, as he is a war criminal and must be executed.  I've missed out part of the debate here (most of which happened before the torpedoes' cargo was discovered) but basically Kirk, rather than follow the orders of his Admiral, follows Spock's suggestion of bringing Khan to trial on Earth, a deeply legalistically ethical suggestion.  It's what Kant would have done.  Marcus, of course, doesn't like this one bit.  The Enterprise escapes at warp speed... But is chased down and fired upon!  This is a real surprise to see one ship not only caught up on but attacked while in hyperspace at warp.  It's really amazing on screen, make no mistake.  The Vengeance makes a fearsome noise.  Still, it adds up to make this Khan almost a sympathetic enemy at the least - yes, he may be the Khan of the Eugenics Wars, but so far he hasn't seemed to be trying to take control of the Enterprise and his crew are in danger and he has been kept prisoner and taken advantage of.  All things that can be sympathised with. 

Okay, let's relax on the whole plot synopsis here.  There's one point I haven't yet addressed which I'll get to, but I'm sure if you've seen it already you know what's happening, if you haven't seen it but don't mind finding out there are several, less cynical and more detailed synopses, and if you want to see it but haven't WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU GOT THIS FAR.  Let's get to the cut and thrust of this...review?  I dunno, but the climactic death scene.  As I said earlier, this film oscillates between Space Seed and Wrath of Khan, and by now it's definitely swung into the latter.  However, this is the mirror universe so it's not going to play out quite as you expect.  Or quite as you remember.  The Enterprise is wrecked, barely holding together in Earth's upper atmosphere.  The power's out, because the warp core is misaligned due to the preceding battle, and time is running out before the ship crashes and the crew liquidised by the force.  Thing is, Bones is in the Medical Bay, and Spock is strapped into the Captain's chair as per the space jump that Khan and Kirk did in order to infiltrate the USS Vengeance.  Scotty and Kirk are in Engineering.  So the usual "you can't go in it'll kill you!" happens, and Kirk... Punches Scotty out.  That's it.  Sits him in a chair, and puts his seatbelt on... and goes in the reactor chamber.  What.  Seriously.  Kirk goes off to his death.  Let's cut here.



Now, there are three critical things that raise Wrath of Khan above other Star Trek films primarily, and these are as follows:

• Ricardo Montalban straight up OWNING every line (the performance of a God)
• The Enterprise and the Reliant playing Battleships in 3 dimensions
• The death of Spock

Aside from this, the scenario where the crew are beginning to age (Kirk gets reading glasses for his birthday!) and the stirring faux-naval score really help the sort of campy atmosphere.  You will notice that Into Darkness has none of these things.  The 18 year gap between Space Seed and Wrath of Khan is almost exactly mirrored in real time, the episode coming from 1967 and the film from 1982. 

As noted earlier, this Khan does not think in three dimensions.  The superbly played and brilliantly tense final shootout between the Reliant and the Enterprise is at a stalemate...until Kirk remembers that unlike the sea, space operates in three dimensions (with which Khan is not experienced), and uses this to his advantage.  As a final act of bitterness, Khan, shattered and dying, makes one last-ditch attempt to vanquish his enemy by setting off the Genesis device before expiring.  The Enterprise limps away, but can't break into the run that Warp speed is because the warp core is misaligned.  Engineering is cut off due to the inhuman amounts of radiation pouring out of the warp core, and there's no way to get in... Or is there?  Not all of the crew are human, remember.  It is at this point that I start weeping with no sense of regret.  The only crew member who could biologically withstand the radiation is... Mr. Spock. 

Spock's self-sacrifice is the emotional climax of the movie.  It is Spock's Kobayashi Maru test - by his own admission.  He slips off quietly while everyone else is panicking, and gets it done.  Bones tries to stop him, but Spock nerve pinches him and then mind melds.  "Remember".  Of course, he manages to fix the vital component of the reactor in time for the Enterprise to escape, but fatally irradiates himself in the process.  His final breath is so touching not because it's Spock and Kirk, or the fact that they're in space or anything... It's seeing a man watch his best friend of almost twenty years die in front of him, totally unreachable.  The one person he needs, he can rely on is... just slipping away behind the glass.  Just give me a minute you guys.  I'll be okay.

This is where Wrath of Khan pulls ahead, because it's also about the way that their lives have changed through time.  This theme continues through all the original cast films, as the surviving cast of Star Trek TOS have a combined age that is greater than the Rolling Stones.  These guys in the mirror universe haven't even gone on their 5 year mission, they've known each other for all of 5 minutes, so the death of Kirk is deeply unfortunate and still pretty sad - rather than deliberately choose himself, he is the one man who makes the choice.  The emotional hook in this is remembering Spock's death, and, rather than the Captain being trapped inside the planet, it is in fact the mirror Spock who utters the famous scream before chasing Khan down on foot, so that famous Vulcan physiology gets referenced after all... After a fraught punch-up on aerial platform vehicles, Uhura gets beamed down and stuns the living shit out of Khan with a phaser.  They need him alive for (drum roll yes that's right it's McGuffin time) his magic blood!  If it can resurrect a tribble, it can resurrect a Kirk!  I have another problem with this, that I realised even in the cinema was there are 72 frozen supermen on board in Medical who have the same genetically superior blood.  They even turf one of the Botany Bay crew out of their cryo-pod in order to preserve the gradually decaying body of Kirk, so they can pump him full of Khan's blood... Whaaaaaat?  Why can't they use that one?  IT ALWAYS HAS TO BE KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN.

And look at that.  Ten minutes later, (two weeks in the movie time) and we cut to Kirk in bed.  Laid up with a case of the Khans, he has miraculously recovered from being dead (just like that tribble earlier), and Khan himself is safely locked in his chiller cabinet with the rest of the surviving Botany Bay, who knows how long for this time.  The one thing I said I was going to come back to was when Kirk and Khan do their space jump (in which Khan saves Kirk's life no less!), he calls Spock Prime on Space Skype in order to ask him about Khan.  Khan is a bad man, and was only defeated "at great cost" (although this cost is not elaborated on).  Spock to Spock, we finally hear what we knew about Mr. Noonien Singh all along, "He is brilliant, ruthless, and he will not hesitate to kill every single one of you".  This brutality was seen on Qo'noS, and also in the corridors of the Vengeance, where Khan, Kirk and Scotty work their way up to the bridge where Khan has his showdown with Admiral Marcus.  During the course of this Mexican stand-off, it is finally revealed that Carol Wallace is in fact Carol Marcus, the Admiral's daughter and another classic Trek reference.  That's not terribly exciting, sorry. 

Even though I found the experience of watching Into Darkness deeply enjoyable and very exciting, I ultimately feel a little disappointed.  A plot jammed with elements from two old stories (one of which is a feature length resolution of the first), laced with top of the line special effects and visual set pieces, then mixed in with more references to classic Star Trek than you can shake a stick at to keep it all together.  Lens flare does not replace character development.  Disappointed is the wrong term, too strong perhaps.  Underwhelmed?  Now I've had the time to think about it (and write it all out) especially.  I'll definitely watch it again, buy the DVD you know it, but still...  Having split the timeline in 2233, and planet Vulcan being destroyed in 2258, the alternate universe is different enough already, without comparing how much more emotional this particular Spock is: we see him and Uhura conduct a relationship in public, something that Nimoy's Spock would never do.  Chronologically speaking, there was no need to make Khan the villain of the piece, seeing as the film is set 8 years before the Prime crew discover The Botany Bay (or perhaps this is another repercussion of being on an altered timeline?) anyway.  I feel that it was a hell of a cheap shot using the exact same plot device in the shape of the damaged warp core, even down to the critical use of the word "friend".  By making Khan's blood the only thing that can save Kirk, they make the baddie into the deus ex machina, and also make sure the other augmented humans are left inhuman by leaving them as the cryo-pods, basically.  However, the memorial presided over by Captain Kirk at the end of the film rededicates Starfleet's purpose: rather than prepare for war either in secret or openly, and the famous five year mission is finally launched.

A reboot like this would always be tough.  Imagine if they rebooted Star Wars like this, where perhaps... I dunno, Qui-Gon Jinn survives the lightsaber duel but Anakin Skywalker still becomes Darth Vader in a series of very strange but similar events?  Maybe it was some sort of attempt on the writers' and director's parts to make a statement that these characters are destined to interact in this way, regardless of where we find them.  Or maybe they wanted to put their spin on an established part of Trek history.  Or... I don't know.  Even though Wrath of Khan's no world beater itself, I think Into Darkness can't even dream of touching it.  Sorry, but Montalban beats Cumberbatch any day.

Oh, Khan.  To the last, I grapple with thee; from hell's heart, I stab at thee; for hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee.

The sun never sets on the HUBBOX Empire: Eat It

Not content with eating things that I've cooked myself, I often like to go out and exchange money for food, and also to pay my way out of having to wash up.  Nobody likes doing the washing up.  Especially not KPs... 

What started out as a restaurant on the Wharf of St. Ives in 2003 has currently expanded to a converted shipping container serving fried chicken on Lemon Quay in Truro, a new restaurant opened in the old converted chapel at the start of Kenwyn street, also Truro, and another converted building in the centre of Exeter.  It's taken little over ten years for them to reach this position, and long may they reign...

My first experience of the HUB was when they opened a shipping crate in front of Marks and Spencer's in Lemon Quay.  Painted in an unassuming green, it sat there at the edge of town issuing the smells of grilling meat, the smell of temptation on the wind... Unless you don't like the smell of grilling meat wafting across the metropolis (I gather there are several people of this opinion.  Who knew?).  Serving a range of gourmet burgers, bottled craft ales and lagers at prices not too steep accounting for quality, I was a regular offender (as I continue to be) at the take out window cut into the side, filling up loyalty cards one after another: 10 stamps equal a free burger - the prices haven't changed so I'll let you do the math on that one.  Petitions went back and forth to either remove or maintain it at that position, with the latter seemingly holding out.  In the summer of 2014, they finally closed the container and moved in to the chapel on Kenwyn street, the former site of the One Eyed Cat, which has disappeared into memory... In 2013, the box in Exeter opened its doors, which I have yet to visit on my semi-irregular visits, and on the 5th of November, the doors opened on the Chick Inbox in the Lemon Quay shipping container, which is the first of a new outdoor food court that will reclaim the paddle steamer that currently sits empty (well, sits with restoration work taking place actually).

Since their move to Kenwyn street, I've once again become a regular customer, (usually on gentlemen's luncheon with Cardinal Sin) already having eaten most of my way through that menu, and also working my way through the options at the Chick Inbox bit by bit.  No wonder I don't have any money...

Let's face it: HUB make great burgers.  Like, really good.  Hilariously, they're sat over the road from Truro's Burger King (the great signpost), but the gulf between them is far greater than mere Kenwyn street, and I don't really think their proximity has had any real effect on their respective customer bases.  The menu starts with the classic plain beef, and quickly escalates to the Big Kahuna, which is a tasty burger, even if doesn't have any pineapple rings (they serve it with onion rings though, I guess they break even on that one).  There's the mackerel Mack Daddy, and a couple of vegetarian options available as well, including the 'NYC Super Salad', the Plate of Rad, which comes with felafel balls.  Although a kitchen, toilets and bar is cut into the inside of the building, things like the interior stonework, clerestory windows and the stained glass in the north-west wall have been thankfully preserved, befitting its status as a Grade II listed building.  Funnily enough, there was a shipping crate that opened up, gull swing style into a bar sat next to the building in its previous guise... But that didn't last at all.   That said, the entrances to the kitchen, DJ booth and downstairs toilet are painted as an ersatz container, continuing their former aesthetic. 

Seating is spread over two floors, and the building's high ceiling continues to be a credit, allowing the place to seem much lighter; the clear window (almost in rose form) above the entrance lets in a lot of light during the day, and suspended strips and low power bulbs in booths help shape the rough charm of the establishment.  The staff range from very to extremely polite, and the attitude is "we're cool if you're cool" - kind of casual but helpful when you attract their attention.  A range of interesting hairstyles, tattoos and piercings abound, including the manager's enormous and fulsome beard.  Soul, funk and hip hop are the usual day time sounds piped over the speakers, all contributing to this rough charm idea - after all, if the menu is inspired by the Williamsburg neighbourhood of New York, why shouldn't the surroundings be as well?  They can often be quite busy, which is of course, THE PRICE OF SUCCESS.  The waiting time for food is what it is: I find it to be no better or worse than any where else really.  It's always worth asking for the current wait on, and deciding for yourself if you're prepared; don't blame them if you accept a sit down on a 40 minute queue.

While the prices are a step above a Whopper meal, they are worth it.  True, the fries are extra, and it can often be a challenge not breaking over a tenner, something in the region of £15 will get you any burger, fries and a bottle of craft beer, imported or not.  They serve from the tap as well, in third and half measures, and offer a flight of beers for tasting too.  There's the usual range of soft drinks available, along with sweet maltshakes (dreadfully tempting but not worth the possibility of lactose pain), which I am assured are fantastic.  They also offer a smoked brisket sandwich and a roll full of the ubiquitous and world-conquering pulled pork... Pulled pork?  How has that taken over the world?  The Hot Dogs are slightly more affordable than the burger range, and are just as excellent and filling; my favourite is the 'Double Double', which comes with pulled pork and sauerkraut.  When it first opened, they also offered wings and a rack of smoked pork ribs - these are currently retired, though hopefully not permanently.  Currently sat on top of the 'BBQ' section and pride of the menu is the smoked brisket: A tray that comes with a hefty piece of beef, covered in BBQ sauce, on a bed of fries, with pickles and slaw on the side; truly the best bang for buck ratio in the whole place but a big meal for one.

Chick Inbox, on the other hand, is an altogether more direct, "Ronseal" approach to fast food - they serve chicken, in a box.  Let's not mince words here, I think it's absolutely amazing.  This is what KFC wants to be when it grows up, what it dreams of while filling in a UCAS application.  The prices almost seem too good to be true, walking away with 4 pieces of fried chicken covered in sauce with fries, slaw and a pickle for a princely £10.  They recently introduced boneless strips, and serve wings and a range of burgers too.  The three sauces, lemon and herb, Korean barbeque, and (five nights at) Freddy's hot sauce come with the pieces or strips at your choice, or are included in the burgers themselves.  Geographically, it sits in the old HUBBOX site, but with the interior redecorated and doors painted in a screaming yellow to attract the good folk of Truro.  There are no inside seats, but benches outside underneath an open canopy, but there are plans to sure up the seating.  It is the first in a food court, which will soon be joined by a Pizza stop, a new stop for 108 Coffee, and, if reports are to be believed, a pub on the boat!  

It's far easier to avoid the demon cheese at Chick Inbox than HUB.  Sadly, it's taken four returned orders for them to get into the swing that I need the cheese leaving out of burger orders at the Kenwyn street venue - the buns are brioche, which contain more than enough milk in the first place.  I hate sending food back full stop, it's no fun for anyone, either side of the pass.  However, I'm pleased to say that there have been no problems since the start of the month.  The only other real problem I've had is drink service once they close the kitchen.  Sometimes it's been tricky to have been served, as they become a cocktail bar in the evening when they close the kitchen at 9pm.  I'd say that this is less a kind of instant choice venue, more a planned night.  Cocktails, as delicious as they may be, aren't cheap.  There are 2-4-1 offers on Friday and Saturday nights, and if you can't see a familiar beverage on the menu then feel free to ask: The staff are as knowledgeable as they are approachable.  

So?  Go.  You might as well try it.  There are lots of options for grilled, American-style food around and this is definitely one of the best.  The Truro restaurant accepts bookings for parties 10 and above, and remember that lunchtime and early evening are bound to be the busiest servings.  Check out the respective websites, with pictures, maps and menus for more!

HUBBOX Truro       Chick Inbox       HUB St. Ives

 

All information correct at time of publishing.

Major: Now Playing Retrospective

Major holds a place shared by only two others in being bought instantly without even thinking about having to check well... Anything.  Except for the artistes responsible, of course.  It's fellows, Fluent in Stroll and Audio, Video, Disco are similarly well-made purchases. 

Fang Island are still of Brooklyn, formerly of Providence.  This second album was released in 2012, some 30 months ago from now. 

With its stony cover, it's almost as if we're in for something different... But not.  This is really Fang Island part 2, but that's not exactly a bad thing either.  The cover art might be less nonsensical than their previous effort, but the fun really starts inside this cardboard envelope, with our three main players of the band, Jason Bartell, Chris Georges and Marc St. Sauveur Jr., reaching out to us in perfect monochrome.  Georges in particular holds the centre, with an intense had gesture, delicate coiffing and the finest Indie Rock mustache.  The list of credits is far longer this time round, with an additional guitarist and two different bassists joining them over the course of the songs.  Also, the "Fang Island Choir" are named for posterity, giving a real sense of scope this time; with the changes are subtle, the entire enterprise is much bigger.

The opening track, 'Kindergarten', uses their signature guitar harmonics, slowly creeping across the stereo field.  It begins with solo piano though, giving this album a kind of "indoor" feeling that continues through the whole record.  Time signatures are much more settled, with far fewer of those whip-round changes from last time.  Maybe that's another reason they chose the cover art?  Carved in stone, to the weather the tides...

The first three tracks, 'Kindergarten', 'Sisterly' and 'Seek It Out' are all pretty muted affairs as well, quite calm and steady with solid riffs that use an accentuated mid-range.  It's almost as if they're finding their feet, as 'Make Me' and 'Never Understand' go a long way to returning to the previous album's aesthetic, with catchy riffing, third harmonised melodies and a smattering of Drawbar sound.  The crowd noises behind the sound in 'Never Understand' give it the feeling of a particularly well behaved gig, or festival stage.  Maybe a restaurant-turned-cocktail venue at a weekend? 

Curiously, on the back there's a whole line space before 'Asunder', and there is a kind of directional change here in the sound too - there's more energy and the guitar sound steps up, no more the calm and mid-heavy production of the first 5 tracks.  A shout out to St. Sauveur's drumming in this sixth track too, perfectly combining with Michael Jacober's fine bass work, allowing these two rhythm players to become more than the mere sum of their parts.  'Dooney Rock' is the high point of the show for me, and well worth the price of entry: A fun little instrumental, with a finger-picking sound on that E drone, joined 14 seconds in by the kick drum on every beat helping to ramp up a feeling of excitement that's really been essentially missing from the otherwise tuneful material we've heard.  Fuller sections follow the recurring drones with a whining guitar solo cutting across the texture.  At 2:10, they change gear and really put the pedal down, full of outbursts of shredding with extra distortion and harmonics to fill out the texture.  Next up, 'Regalia', keeps up the strength of movement, with a real stylistic return to form - crowd-sourcing vocals, dramatic pauses, a few quick shifts in the beat, and a euphoric lead sound, but still with that more solid mid sound behind it.  Synthesized strings and a piano are there in the fade out before the before diving right back in to the instrumental.  'Chompers' is the summation of the best of the two preceding tracks, helping form a little unit of just pure fun.  The best aspects of the album really are here, focused into tight riffs and catchy solos.

The closing act, comprised of tracks 'Chime Out' and 'Victorinian' tie these two different halves of the record together.  'Chime Out' starts slowly, like 'Make Me', but builds a lot quicker, which is arguably more effective, with a huge wall of guitar chugging and EQ'd harmonics, with the sound of chimes tinkling away above it all.  'Victorinian' starts with a Shakuhachi solo, complete with applause and cheering, before bursting into a hyperactive Piano line.  This time, it's like there are different time signatures happening across the same instrument, and it's almost four minutes gone before a fuzzed up guitar comes in to double the melody.  The chord sequence is highly reminiscent of the opening, just like the last disc they cut.  A rumble of thunder heralds not just the end of the track but the end of the whole as well...

Out of the two musical Ourobouros that Fang Island have given us I'm hard pushed to call a preference.  2010's offering has much more energy over all, a big punch through a wall, telling us that "Yes!  This album is here!  We will bring you joy!" It was happy and energetic and just bounced off the walls for the sake of it.  This one is much more serious, and it doesn't quite succeed for it.  The first act is stodgy, even compared to the throwaway enthusiasm of the first part of Fang Island.  By the second act, they know who they are again, as do we, and by the end there's been some reconciliation.  'Dooney Rock' and 'Chompers' stand shoulder to shoulder with the likes of 'Daisy' and 'Sideswiper', but the other material does feel even as if they themselves aren't exactly thrilled to be their.

I feel a bit bad ending on that kind of note!  I still think it's a good record, and I'm glad I bought it &c &c... But it kind of needs the first album to work best, so you know where it's come from even if you're not sure where it's going sometimes.  Over all though, it's great stuff and as a piece of Indie-noise-instrumetal-nonsense rhymes, it still works just great.



Reviewed on a Philips AX1100/00 CD Player through Philips/O'Neill 'The Snug' SHO8802/10 headphones and Logitech Z323 2.1 Surround Speakers.

Out of the Deep

Why break the habits of a lifetime?

I hope you're all enjoying my attempts to look outward, to drag myself out of a mire, usually of my own making, in the form of my new schedule (he says, barely hanging on to it by his fingernails alone).  I'm one down in a way already, so I'll have to finish and publish my take on three short stories by Kafka on a transposed date, but in falling behind I'm already falling into the bad habit I am so desperate to avoid.  That said, you try and read The Judgement, Metamorphosis and In the Penal Colony and... No, I'll leave it at that.  Just trying to read them ought to be more than enough for now.

Then again, don't forget that at the heart of this venture is still the same man, misguided at best and bitter at worst, trying to make sense of not only everything around him but also inside his own head.  The title of this blog has become a cornerstone really, and it all started as a throwaway joke (as all the best things do), combining the salutation an old friend would use on the telephone with a kind of forced reaction to the BBC's latest interpretation of Sherlock Holmes, fronted by Benedict Cumberbatch, who is NOT KHAN*.  That's not a spoiler, I'm not even going to apologise.  I mean, could you imagine if Star Wars: The Force Awakens was set in an alternate timeline that split off just after the Battle of Yavin in A New Hope and replaced Lando Calrissian with... BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH?!  I suppose it might be a bit different, I mean, Billy Dee Williams didn't die in 2009... Anyway, the point I'll be getting back to right now is the whole "Mind Palace" concept that Sherlock didn't necessarily invent but brought to a kind of public level.  While I'm hardly an expert (feel free to emphasise any or all of those five words as you see fit in my stead for maximum ironic impact), Cumberbatch's Holmes is certainly symptomatic of Asperger's, or at least high-functioning autistic.  I can't remember the 'official' byline on it, wasn't it something about being sociopathic as well?  Who knows.  

It's this 'Mind Palace' where all of his knowledge is stored, all highly organised deep within his brain.  There's a neat visualisation of this at the end of the third series, after suffering a life threatening gunshot wound, where we see him retreat to his memories both comforting and well... Not.  Also, there's that Doctor bird (technical term) who fancies him, popping up as the voice of reason to walk him through surviving being shot.  I think it's her anyway.  Pretty sure.  It's from this palace that the floating text appears when he looks at things (Egg?  Sitty thing?!?!?), like the scanning from the Metroid Prime trilogy but without having a Chozo Battle Suit Ver. SA1-446B-VM6-P (or should that be Ver. SH1?).  3D map constructions (press Z to bring up the map) and things like phone numbers float about as well.  What happens after he gets shot is arguably more like a dream sequence than anything else, but it's clearly set in the same place.  We're also shown that the baddie of the overall outfit has his own kind of palace, the "Appledore Vaults".  Throughout the series we're treated to scenes of him trotting in and out of archives, picking out files and pictures &c, only to discover that in the end it was all in his head!  Thanks, Dallas.  

Being the friendly local neighbourhood autist (or, at least the one who admits anyway), the comparisons with Sherlock were impossible to avoid.  In the eyes of many, I have all of his social niceties (almost none), yet none of the beguiling intelligence.  Oh, how I am good for nothing!  But thinking about it, there's some traction.  I retain almost everything I learn, and notice more environmental and intellectual stimuli compared to my emotional ability.  True, things are better than they ever have been, but I still lag sometimes significantly.  And often, my memory of places and events is aided by the recollection of bizarre things such as exact weather conditions, seeing someone's collar turned up or what time my watch said compared to somebody else's, you know, something quite odd that ties it all in to a causal timeline.  Sometimes this has been taken advantage of by others, who know that I'll recall events as they happened with no bias.  Everything is up here, somewhere, it's just getting at it that's the problem.

So, finally.  Why an asylum?  An old mad house, a "hospital" for the mentally degenerate.  Many real asylums were truly awful places, the genuinely disadvantaged rubbing shoulders (and perhaps more - yeesh) with the syphilitic, most likely being beaten by staff who would strike out in anger and fear more than anything else (is this helping?); not terribly jolly places at all.  The next step?  Don't roll your eyes too hard: Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth, yet another seminal and character defining work from Grant Morrison, illustrated by Dave McKean.  Yes, it's Batman.  Yes, it's an illustrated work... But serious stories can also be told with in a visual manner, and just remember that the next time you go and see some cinematographical masterpiece.  The wikipedia page linked there has some interesting comments, about how Morrison believing the further abstraction provided by McKean's art reduces its power, by making it 'unreal', and the success it had with an untypical readership - perhaps I'll write up for the next 'Top Shelf' (although I'll need to finish Kafka first).  I'm going right to the end with this one though.  Batman's journey through Arkham is harrowing enough, interspersed with the story of Amadeus Arkham, the man who turned the family home into a madhouse (and also tried to invoke some crazy dark magic), but by the end (and cutting a long story very very short), our favourite nemesis to all things Bat gives our hero a simple offer as he leaves: "Enjoy yourself out there.  In the Asylum.  Just don't forget -- If it ever gets too tough... There's always a place for you here."

In this case, the Asylum is the outside world: Gotham, crime, daily life, whatever.  Arkham Asylum itself is a little haven, an island where the madness inside is only ever less than or equal to the madness going on outside.  Like... The inside of my head?  Ha ha ha...  We all have to think of something, right?  

In the Asylum, there are many doors, and not all of them are open.  Things like traumas are locked away - abuse, family death, injury.  You know what it's like, you know, when "the mind protects itself" from the memory of great pain.  This is my version, that those things, places, people, those sensations are behind closed doors, some of which do not open.  Some things, like the time I basically became a functional alcoholic are behind doors that open - I can make myself remember if I try, and it brings back a lot that I don't necessarily want - Grant the King a Long Life was an exercise in opening many similar doors, so that I could accept those things and start to move on more positively, that the things inside those rooms could no longer burst their prisons and overwhelm me but be put away in their proper place.  Of course, I consider myself quite mad, in fact, you could say I was "fucking insane" most of the time, and had I lived even a hundred years ago, I probably would have been condemned to one of these "hospitals" myself, no need to kid myself.  I can retreat here though, when it all gets a bit too much outside, and I also need to stop making myself feel guilty about that.  I already push myself to appear as, uh, "typical" as I can, (because being normal is some boring ass shit and I ain't getting involved with that), and sometimes I just need a rest!  Feet up, tea, lock the doors.  Nothing in or out.  Everything will be okay.

Anyway.  I promise to get back to the new timetable of distractions after this.  It's good to get out of the Asylum sometimes too.






* Yes, I'm STILL angry about that.  This must be what "Trukk not Munky" felt like in the mid 90s...

Now Showing: Sound and Fury

Now, this isn't going to be easy, is it...

In the opening lines of last week's review of Fang Island, I made mention of how it was the first time I had written about something someone else had done blah blah blah... Completely forgetting that I had done a piece on Hercules, starring Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson!  Turns out I've been wanting to break out into talking about things other than my own screaming inadequacies for ages now oh well haha!  But to be fair to me, it was really just a one-shot, rather than part of a concerted effort like all this is, so you know, swings and roundabouts.  

I remember the point that I was making that it was probably the closest we'll ever get to a real Dungeons & Dragons or Fire Emblem movie we'll ever get; instead of using beloved and often bitterly defended characters and situations from those two properties, it uses a generic action adventure template with a simple team dynamic laid over a mythic, faux-ancient history setting, to stage a quest to save a land from invasion and a people from their own corrupt ruler.  Sound familiar?  It's pretty much the same basic plot that Intelligent Systems have used ever since 1990.  I'm not saying it's a bad one either, as really there's a lot of room for character development once you have that outline to hang things on.  

Thinking more about that piece also points out some things about my general film-going habits: I love uncomplicated blockbusters, hence the subtitle.  But looking at my shelf of DVDs you'd be forgiven for thinking that's some kind of red herring, what with my interest in foreign film, character-driven drama, intelligent sci-fi and of course, Batman.   I also have an unexpected love for the "oeuvre" of Steven Seagal, because there are times in all our lives where we just need a guy in a ponytail executing the most insane martial arts fight scenes to cheer us up.  I think my real favourite is The Glimmer Man, because it's just before he stops doing (mostly) his own fighting and stunts.  It's a 'buddy cop' film taken to an illogical and egregiously hilarious extreme, and I like that.  I like that a lot.

I also hold my hands up to liking some straight up terrible films as well.  For every La Vie en Rose there's Michael Bay's Transformers trilogy, for every Big Fish there's a... Uh, um, Matrix Revolutions?  I'd have said Keanu Reeves' Constantine but I actually thought it was quite good, bar the fact that they use character names and (tenuous at best) likenesses from Vertigo's Hellblazer - if only they had thought of an original set of names it might have garnered some light respect rather than the rough kicking it deserved as a film representation of "the" John Constantine.  I gather that the TV series is doing a bit of a better job, bar the fact that their Constantine is, well, clean.  As I read in the recent Comics Alliance article, Hellblazer's Constantine is the guy who gave Satan the middle finger, probably before, during or after calling him some choice names that couldn't possibly be published here, in time for last orders and chaining a pack of ten fags - not something that would really go down well on American Network prime time.

I'm also conscious of having no real or formal training in any kind of film study, no matter how much I throw the term "non-diegetic" into conversation, which makes me feel a little nervous in leaping in like this... But then how many people do their own blogs publishing reviews who have no similar experience?  At least in reviewing albums I have the fact that I'm an actual musician and have played bass guitar, banjo, keyboard and sang live, and also have recorded all of the above at some point, even if for GSCE and A-Level examination, that can stand up to scrutiny -  although if I ever use the phrase "as a professional musician" I demand that somebody comes and kills me.  Reach through the monitor and throttle me if you have to.  On the other hand, perhaps not having a formal background in film might help.  After all, it's about me and my reaction; you have not and could possibly not have had the experiences my life has (as I could not yours) that govern my judgements and my approach and appreciation of anything, really!  Just like with music, sometimes an op-ed, reactionary piece is much more effective in communicating how you might enjoy it, rather than a hardline technical analysis.  

In fact, there's yet more meaning behind the subtitle; I am a hyperactive adult with a mercilessly short attention span.  I have a lifelong love of comics, cape or not, Transformers, video games, anime, and all the associated trivia that goes with all of them, I often seek out loud films with out very much plot most of the time - hence Transformers (well) quadrilogy.  Fight Club is an excellent foil however, as not only is it full of explosions 'n shit and fighting and plot twists, but it's pretty close to the plot of the book, if slightly less disturbing by the end.  I really need to see Choke with Sam Rockwell and Angelica Houston to follow up my Chuck Palahniuk obsession.  But anyway, that's why most of my films are fast-pased action or brightly coloured comedy (Batman Movie 1966, I'm looking at you), because I like shiny things, basically.  My interest in foreign films stems from one of my ex-girlfriends from long ago, who would take me to an art house cinema as our dates (avec les sous-titres, naturellement); not exactly a natural habitat given my reputation but one must strive for a bit of class eh.

I'll be back, ev'n in the time appointed to bring you news from my local, The Plaza on Lemon street.  In fact, I'll wrap this by setting the scene... And don't forget to visit their website!


-"The Plaza Cinema is ideally situated on Lemon Street, slightly up the hill, taking it away from the bustle of the high street and the Hall for Cornwall, the city's venue for live performances, but close enough (much like everything else in Truro) to be no more than a ten minute walk.  Although there are only 4 screens, this is perfectly ample, with 1 being the largest and the following three gradually, but not markedly smaller.  In fact, I'd say that the smaller screens have as much going for them as the larger, allowing The Plaza to put on films with more intimate settings on a screen and room size that reflects the setting: Summer blockbusters like Guardians of the Galaxy and Transformers: Age of Extinction (and by extension all the upcoming Marvel and DC comic book films &c) belong in screen 1, while the modestly statured comic  A Thousand Ways to Die in the West and period drama Belle are complimented by the smaller setting afforded by screens 3 and 4, say.  'Found-Footage' style and other horror films also benefit, although in their case the rooms accentuate the claustrophobia. 

Seating is spacious and comfortable, there's no feel of faded grandeur here.  The staff are polite and friendly, most of them are young (younger than I am anyway), which along with the smaller size of the actual place itself makes it feel quite local, and certainly not in a bad way; Truro isn't exactly in a need of a colossal multiplex, and the nearby towns of Redruth and Falmouth are served by their own cinemas as well.

While not every film makes it as far west as Truro, The Plaza manage to get in showings of opera, ballet and stage theatre as well.  Alongside their honouring of the now ubiquitous 'Orange Wednesdays', they also have offers for senior cinema enthusiasts for showings before 7pm, and on Tuesdays all tickets are just £5 in the evening.

It might be the only cinema in Truro, but it's definitely a fine one.  Rather than try and throw bells and whistles, The Plaza distinguishes itself by doing things right: With a small but useful set of ticket offers, clean seats (notwithstanding the occasional discovery of a previous patron's underseat hiding of rubbish), welcoming staff and even refreshment prices that aren't too bad, The Plaza is definitely an excellent place to get a film in."-

Eat it - Hors d'oeuvre

Welcome to yet another mad and wild and new departure.  This is all so novel that it's almost exciting to write... Almost.

Yes, this is the inevitable food part of my new blogging plan, a blogging plan for the ages.  Or for the year, at least.  Hopefully there'll be something for everyone!  Or just the hope that everyone will read something.  

Once again, I find no small inspiration from my old friend, Emily P. Burt.  She's gone and done all sorts of things that I probably won't even get near because she's so cool and good and excellent, and this latest venture is thankfully more of the same eloquent and eminently readable style: "Eat Happy!", documenting trips to various eateries in her current city of Cardiff.  She does a bunch of other stuff than just write about recipes and places, so keep up on her twitter to find out all the interviews and other coverage as well. 

I have always had a... Difficult relationship with food, to put it lightly.  I have an even more difficult relationship with my weight because of it and have only now, in my advanced age, reached the princely weight of 11 stones.  I try to look after myself as best I can (so you can stop worrying so much, Mother), and this extends to my often bizarre eating habits.  I am picky.  I'm as picky as hell, actually, and now I have my ever-increasing lactose intolerance to watch out for as well.  I have heightened senses of taste and smell, and have weird issues with food texture as well; I'm one of 'them' who has difficulty mixing "wet" and "dry" food - you know what I mean.  Having any more than an impossibly meager splash of gravy with a Sunday roast is considered pushing the boat out, par example.  I'm a nightmare at dinner parties due to my odd tastes as well: At last year's Burns Night dinner I found myself on the edge of sanity trying to stay polite after allowing myself to be forced into trying haggis, a personal horror of both taste and texture if ever there was one.  Sometimes it's very embarrassing.  It makes me very anxious. 

I initially learned to cook, therefore, to make sure that I could control what I ate, to make sure that it would definitely be something I would enjoy.  My knife skills can be a little, er, rough and ready sometimes but good intentions and taking care often make up for holes in technique.  I've been told I normally underseason my food as well, but I'm fine with a less intense taste as it's not a sense that's exactly deficient.  Although I'm still a fiend for take out, I actually enjoy whipping up a dinner or perhaps an especially hearty lunch.  The flip side?  Washing up, the source of many arguments in my short life already, which (let's face it) nobody really wants to do ever at all in the whole and entire world.  As I said earlier, the next level of control is the lactose avoidance, which can be amazingly and disappointingly difficult, like finding out the milk powder used as a thickening agent in ready meal curries makes you uncomfortable.  Add to that the fact I'm basically allergic to ice cream, life seems cruel and unnecessarily mean.  Or just plain unfair (life's not supposed to be fair blah blah blah).

Also, being a young gentleman about town, the big city here, I go out to many exciting places to exchange my money for food and table waiting.  I often run a constant gauntlet of making myself ill (seriously guys milk powder is in almost everything), but life's too short to let a bit of bloating get in the way of enjoying one's self (seriously fuck milk powder).  I am a regular offender at several places round Truro (especially the Old Alehouse), where I have a reputation as an excellent customer.  I was thinking about this the other day actually; not only am I polite to the staff, often help clear up or definitely take glasses back to the bar, behave well... But also I hand over all my money all the time.  I also make sure I don't be so stupid to make passes at the staff as well, because that always works out for me doesn't it?  Jeez.

Anyway.  I'll be using this as a kind of signal post, and yes I am going to turn into one of those people who takes pictures of food even more so than usual.  As always I will make my first review some place where I have been a lot so we can get started comfortably (like last week), and then see how we go.  In the meantime, here's my recipe for a thai-style stir fry that I've been eating a lot of recently.  It looks like more work than it is, and prep and cook time shouldn't cost you more than a half hour.

INGREDIENTS

Nam Pla (fish sauce)       Light and Dark Soy sauces     Noodles or Rice     
Chicken or Turkey, thinly sliced     Spring Onions     Garlic cloves     Root Ginger     
Red or Green Chilies     Mushrooms     Broccoli     Basil leaves (fresh)


METHOD

Okay, first of all get your rice or noodles on the go.  I use medium egg noodles for kind of everything, but anything should be fine according to your taste.  I just boil the noodles in unsalted water for 5 minutes and then drain, with just a bit left in the pan.  
The rice is a different ball game.  On a high heat, melt butter in a pan with a tight fitting lid.  When the butter is melted pour in however much rice you're using and stir so all the grains are coated.  Whatever you use for a measure doesn't really matter, as long as you can definitely pour in twice as much boiling water once the rice is coated.  Stir up to get all the grains down from the sides of the pan, and once the water starts boiling again, place the lid on top, making sure it's been firmly wrapped in a cloth.  Once the lid is on, turn the heat right down straight away, to its lowest amount, and keep it like this for 15 minutes.  Once the time is up, turn the heat off but leave the lid on; this way, it can stay hot for up to an hour.  When ready, serve!  The rice ought to be fluffy grained and not too dry - you can pack it into bowls to make a timbal if you like.  Speaking of bowls I like to use them to group ingredients, as you'll see...

Prepare your ingredients.  You can get "stir fry" packs of meat at major supermarkets, which are perfect for the job.  Otherwise, just cut Chicken or Turkey breast fillets into thin strips.  Slice the spring onions up either diagonally or into straight rings - white scallions will also do a fine job here.  For the mushrooms, either pull the legs out and slice the head and legs thinly, or for button mushrooms cut into four.  Once prepared, these two can go into a bowl together.  For the broccoli, cut to your preference; personally I chop down the florets from a Calabrese head, or just cut the stalk away if you get hold of some blessed tenderstem...

Next, skin and finely chop three cloves of garlic.  Then slice the ginger - you don't want too much here, perhaps a piece an inch long by half an inch wide.  Finally, the chili.  Either red or green is fine, just cut up into rings, and dispense of the seeds if you wish; I like the heat but I know plenty of people don't.  Make sure all of these go into a bowl together.  Chop or simply tear a healthy portion of basil leaves and make sure you don't forget about them!

Get a wok screaming hot.  Hobs these days sometimes come with a central burner especially for woks, so use that if you have one.  Just pour in either sunflower, groundnut or plain vegetable oil to the wok so it covers the bottom and sit on the highest heat you have until it starts to smoke.  Do not use olive oil, as it will burn, and the wok will be ruined.  Once you've reached temperature, throw the meat in and stir fry until the outside is sealed.  If you cut it into thin strips, it'll cook very quickly indeed.  Once the outside is all sealed, pour in one or two teaspoons of Nam Pla, according to taste.  Be careful with this stuff, as it has a very strong flavour!  Err on the side of caution if you're worried about overdoing it.  When the edges are beginning to brown a little on the meat, pour the contents, meat and sauce, into a bowl for later (we'll throw it back in at the end!).

Return the wok to the heat and add a little more oil.  When you're ready to go, add the ginger, garlic, chili and broccoli, and fry - make sure the garlic doesn't catch but let the broccoli cook as well.  Pour in one teaspoon of Light Soy sauce.  Then add the spring onion and mushrooms, and fry them out too.  Once you're happy with the veg, pour the bowl of your meat back in, and toss all the ingredients together.  Pour in two teaspoons of Dark Soy sauce.  Keep stirring.  Remember what I told you not to forget?  Good!  Add your basil leaves and stir everything together for a minute before you serve.  At this point you can add the noodles if you want, but the rice might be a but much in the wok.  Plate or dish up as you see fit.

Ideally, this will serve two as a kind of medium to light supper alongside a dessert, or a hearty meal for one.  Service!

 

Just a quick one.

Twenty minutes.  Go!

This really should have been typed and landed yesterday, but in my defence I was very busy, what with singing in a concert, sorting out white tie for one of my co-soloists (coloist?), eating and generally you know this that the other.  Those of you who have done evening concerts on Saturdays will know how the rehearsal in the middle of the day really puts the whole thing off kilter and takes up way more time than it really ought to.  Also, my major writing project for yesterday was a piece of personal correspondence to Canada.  There's no way I'm posting any verbatim stuff from my letters, even if there may be similar themes present.

This weekend has been particularly good musically, actually!  Friday night's evensong was remarkably strong for the end of the week, with Holst Nunc and 'Hail Gladdening Light'.  This was followed by last night, where I sang as part of a solo quartet in a performance of Mozart's Coronation Mass with Truro Choral Society.  Finally, today is truly the reward for a life that disappoints, reassurance that everything really is okay, even if you're a loser and you constantly wonder why people claim to be your friends, with what I could only describe as the greatest verse anthem of all time, 'See, see the word is incarnate' by Orlando (furioso) Gibbons, the "best finger of the age", Walton's hard-work-but-rewarding Missa Brevis, and the centrepiece of this evening's engagement, 'Blest pair of sirens', Parry and Milton joined in a grand anthem.

I think that 'See, see...' is so good that I almost want to accost people in the street about it.  To take them by the shoulder and shake them into realisation that there is more to life than whatever they do, walking mundane streets through uninspiring lifetimes, that yes, this amazing piece of drama, the whole church year in 5 minutes (more or less), with impressive and meaty solos for all voices.  I was responsible for almost all the alto verse action this morning, which is about as good as an early Christmas present as I'll get (in the middle of November).  'See, see...' is another one of those anthems that's very important to me, as it was something else that I wasn't allowed to do, for whatever arbitrary reason.  Probably because reasons.  To think, that not so long ago I wouldn't even have had half the necessary notes in order to give account, but now have a full and fine compass... There's hope for us all.  The powers of hell were truly shaken this morning.

This is possibly the best part of my life and indeed, lifestyle.  High stress (mostly self-induced, let's be honest), emotional upheaval, argument... Whatever.  It melts away with a weekend of good singing; hard work goes in and great services come out.  Not exactly rocket science.


I'll be back tomorrow with something different again.  My friend runs a food blog (I'll update the links in the sidebar tomorrow as well) which has definitely been no small inspiration to me (and she's just really good), so let's see how week B works out...

Until then.