"Except that everyone in the story is a dragon, red in tooth and claw..."
Well, gee. I have all these exciting things to tell you about my Halloween weekend, but knowing me, it will take me until at least tomorrow to get a chance to write them up properly, so I might as well post the things I’d already mostly written about from before-then.
The Wednesday before last I saw Ministry, which was grand. Well, first I failed to see Hanzel und Gretyl. Although there’s a certain charm to (as happyelfling put it) "really really bad but kind of funny in a bad way," I opted to be at the KGB reading, which was actually good in good way. I had higher hopes for My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult, who are hella fun on album. Unfortunately, the problem with live performances by a band that’s so heavily reliant on samples is that when a band is mostly just singing vocals over a pre-recorded soundscape, the only thing left to question is which hand motions they’d do when. Shockingly, the novelty tends to wear off after a few songs.
I was almost ready to declare the Evil Doer tour "Not Evil Enough" when Ministry took the stage and changed all that. I am developing a theory that if you don’t walk out of their shows sweaty, achy, half-deaf, and with a few sore spots that will probably be nasty bruises in the morning, you just aren’t trying hard enough. That the first half of the show was entirely composed of songs from a new album that I don’t know well was more than compensated for by the fact that such a politically-motivated album[1] apparently necessitates a super-elaborate stage show: the lights come up on a guy in a suit, tie, and George W. mask strutting around the stage to the strains of the Carmina Burana. Then Ministry frontman Al Jorgensen emerges from the wings, tackles the Bush stand-in, and pummels him repeatedly until he falls to the ground. In the background, a cute redhead in a pith helmet and a pleather skirt (even shorter than mine!) provides accompaniment in the form of short violin bursts into a mic stand decorated to look like a set of motorcycle handlebars made from human bones. The band played almost exclusively "old hits" after the first set, was way tighter than the last time I saw them, and Al was a lot more talkative, wielding lots of banter on the order of "Wow, I f’in’ love New York! You guys are so much better than last night’s lame guest-list crowd! I’m gonna play all night!" Presumably just empty flattery, but still an exceptional way to get an industrial crowd riled up (and makes me wonder: does he go to other cities and say, "You guys are so much better than New York!"?). To conclude, two things this show taught me: Ministry shows are perhaps the only place in NYC you’ll ever see males lined up 40 deep to get into the bathroom while smirking women sail past them into a practically empty ladies room; and the more you feel compelled to jump up and down in boots with two inch heels for the entire duration of "Supernaut", the more your feet will make you pay for it the next day.
After a friend’s birthday dinner on Friday I headed over to Kate’s house, where the last few poor sods in our circle who hadn’t seen The Office watched the entire first season straight through. It’s as good as everyone says it is, probably better. It’s also one of those rare shows that relies on humor from the same Grand High Theatre of Awkwardness tradition as Curb Your Enthusiasm and the Todd Solondz movies. Namely, the situations enacted are so terrible that you spend half the time in sheer relief that the person on screen is not you; the other half trying to figure out whether you’re supposed to laugh, knowing full well that it’s probably cruel to do so, but you kinda have to do it anyway because if you’re not watching because it’s funny, then it must be because you’re sadistic. Being a terrible person, I heartily endorse this.
On Tuesday, I learned to double crochet and bought my first crochet hook. It is red and shiny, and I fear there is no going back. I'm currently working on this pattern and this one on opposite sides of the same ball of yarn. That night my art director, moderntime, and I took this guy and his ex-roommate out for dinner, which was predictably awesome. On Thursday darkling1 and I rushed I Am My Own Wife. And that's where I'm going to need to end this if I want you to see it anytime soon.
Two bits of cultural excavation for you: while reading AMGs mostly-inane reviews of Rasputina’s albums, I came across a reference to The Tiger Lillies, who I’d always thought were some boring rock band. Imagine my surprise to find they’re anything but. Initial inspection pegs them as a Brechtian experimental musical theatre outfit whose albums include Shockheaded Peter, "the soundtrack to the critically-acclaimed stage production based on the 1850s book Struwwelpeter, a collection of macabre cautionary tales written by Heinrich Hoffmann, a psychiatrist frustrated with the era's boring children's stories," and The Gorey End, an album in which they collaborated with the mischievous Kronos Quartet (whose version of Bjork’s Hyperballad is one of the best things I've ever heard ever) to set previously unpublished stories by Edward Gorey to music. I’m not sure yet what to make of the samples online, but I do think that the fact that this band exists evidences something right with the world.
Second: I don't do enough political reading to feel justified in making suggestions to anyone else, but since anything nice I can say about wicked_wish works in my own interest, I’m going to make an exception for this: if you, like me, have been looking at all those red states and completely failing to fathom what they’re thinking, you might find Cherie’s post entitled Holy Shit! I'm a Liberal!: How it happened and why -- confessions of a Young Republican who saw the light and squinted to be educational. Rowr!
Unfortunately, my languorous posting pace means that I didn’t get to wish WFA nominees papersky and jaylake (who is far-and-away my hero of the week, for reasons I’ll hopefully get to disclose before too long) good luck before the fact. But now that the news is out I can at least congratulate Jo and use it as an excuse to rant about how happy I am that Tooth and Claw is getting the recognition that it deserves. If you’ve not yet heard of Tooth and Claw, you must at least read the book description, which will tell you immediately how badly you need to read the book.
In other breaking convention news, the new Locus has an actually kinda cute picture of alg and me at WorldCon (Anna is always cute; the surprise is entirely on my own behalf). I have no recollection of this picture being taken. When I told Anna so, she said there were lots of pictures taken of us when I was fake-drunk, and I don’t remember a one. Ach! My standards, they are dying.
I trust you all have your plans for The Incredibles in place by now, right? Well, what are you waiting for?
[1] Houses of The Molé is comprised of a song called "No W" followed by 8 tracks sprinkled with samples from speeches by our current administration whose titles all begin with the letter "W." Not precisely the most high-minded political insight, but I don't listen to Ministry for their subtlety.