But I've always enjoyed her music when someone else puts it on. I've also always respected her musicality and her showmanship. Watching her Wembley Stadium finale during Live Earth I was especially taken in by the latter after watching a day's worth of folks who mostly seemed to not understand the performance aspect of "performing live".
So there I was, enjoying Madonna playing guitar and utilizing her many tightly choreographed dancers, when she announced some friends of hers were going to join her for the next song. And when she said who they were, I very nearly wet myself.
I discovered Gogol Bordello after watching "Everything is Illuminated". The lead singer plays a wonderfully memorable character, so I was quick to look him up on IMDB. That led to his band's website and my watching all the videos of them I could find online.
One of greatest things about Madonna is her willingness to let other people on stage with her shine, and that they did. If you missed Madonna's performance in Live Earth, and especially if you've never heard of this raucous gypsy punk band, do be sure to let the magic of Youtube bring you this joy.
La Isla Bonita at Live Earth
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
Deadline Day at the Toronto Arts Council
There was a time not so many years ago when I decided I would never apply for arts grants. I imagined myself nobly slaving away at my day job, counting down the minutes until I could race home and return to my "real" work. I was going to carry on this way for just a few years, then I would break out with some wonderfully successful novel/play/screenplay that would allow me to walk away from the nine-to-five with a flourish, like those people on the lottery commercials. These days, I'm feeling pretty good about myself if I actually have time to sleep the night before the grant applications are due.
So today Steve and I went by the Toronto Arts Council office with four hours to spare and me running on five hours sleep. Just inside the doors a nice receptionist was doing something on her computer when I stepped up to the desk with my fat envelope of brilliance. "Right there," she pointed, and I went to put the envelope on her desk. "No, no," she said, and I followed her eyes to a big easel with a handwritten sign. There was a whole room set aside for this day, with a large table ready to carry the weight of the last-minute onslaught.
I was disappointed at first - there were only about a half-dozen envelopes on the table, and I began to suspect my tendencies to procrastinate weren't as common as writers' blogs and discussion boards have led me to believe. But then I saw the sign-in sheet, with over forty names on it already. As I was filling in my own John Hancock a woman came in and collected the little pile of envelopes and added them to a very full box I hadn't noticed under the table.
When we'd been approaching the office, one guy was getting in his car to leave - he had the look of someone who was very happy to be done with something. As we were walking away from 141 Bathurst Street, someone else clutching a fat manila envelope was heading towards it. I can only assume their applications were brimming with brilliance as well, since as Steve said, "Only the pros procrastinate."
So today Steve and I went by the Toronto Arts Council office with four hours to spare and me running on five hours sleep. Just inside the doors a nice receptionist was doing something on her computer when I stepped up to the desk with my fat envelope of brilliance. "Right there," she pointed, and I went to put the envelope on her desk. "No, no," she said, and I followed her eyes to a big easel with a handwritten sign. There was a whole room set aside for this day, with a large table ready to carry the weight of the last-minute onslaught.
I was disappointed at first - there were only about a half-dozen envelopes on the table, and I began to suspect my tendencies to procrastinate weren't as common as writers' blogs and discussion boards have led me to believe. But then I saw the sign-in sheet, with over forty names on it already. As I was filling in my own John Hancock a woman came in and collected the little pile of envelopes and added them to a very full box I hadn't noticed under the table.
When we'd been approaching the office, one guy was getting in his car to leave - he had the look of someone who was very happy to be done with something. As we were walking away from 141 Bathurst Street, someone else clutching a fat manila envelope was heading towards it. I can only assume their applications were brimming with brilliance as well, since as Steve said, "Only the pros procrastinate."
Sunday, March 18, 2007
How Many Living Former Leaders Does It Take To Make A TV Show?
My roommates and I just watched the first few minutes of a TV special called "The Next Great Prime Minister". A panel of young people with political aspirations are debating in front of a panel of judges. The host is Canadian political comedian and commentator Rick Mercer, and the panel is made up of four - count 'em four - of the six living former Prime Ministers.
The American equivalent of this would be Jon Stewart hosting a youth debate with Bill Clinton, Bush Sr., Jimmy Carter and... well, there aren't four ex-presidents still alive, but you get the idea. The point is, it wouldn't happen.
Which all just served to remind me how much I love the relationship between Canadian Politics and Comedy. I think Stewart and Colbert are inching the U.S. towards the same place, but arrival is still a long way off.
Quick Links:
Official Site of The Next Great Prime Minister
Official Site of Rick Mercer
The American equivalent of this would be Jon Stewart hosting a youth debate with Bill Clinton, Bush Sr., Jimmy Carter and... well, there aren't four ex-presidents still alive, but you get the idea. The point is, it wouldn't happen.
Which all just served to remind me how much I love the relationship between Canadian Politics and Comedy. I think Stewart and Colbert are inching the U.S. towards the same place, but arrival is still a long way off.
Quick Links:
Official Site of The Next Great Prime Minister
Official Site of Rick Mercer
Friday, March 09, 2007
How To Lose Your Blogging Momentum
1. Adopt cats. Cats with "issues".
2. Register on facebook, devourer of free time.
3. Have your first ever total computer crash.
4. Fix your computer, and praise whatever god(s) you believe in that those writing files you've been meaning to back-up are still there.
5. Back-up your writing files.
6. Go back to playing on facebook.
*sigh*
I am so very easily distracted.
2. Register on facebook, devourer of free time.
3. Have your first ever total computer crash.
4. Fix your computer, and praise whatever god(s) you believe in that those writing files you've been meaning to back-up are still there.
5. Back-up your writing files.
6. Go back to playing on facebook.
*sigh*
I am so very easily distracted.
Monday, February 19, 2007
New Additions, Part Two: The Mythical Beast On Our Couch
When I called Friday's post "New Addtitions, Part One" the plan was for Part Two to be an equally light post, featuring pictures of the happy feline friends we were going to adopt from the Humane Society on Saturday. It would have looked, perhaps, like this:
While those are indeed pictures of our newly adopted family members, not everyone is still as happy:
In the shelter, that big orange boy (and he is VERY big) was the outgoing one who drew our eye. Meowing and purring and coming to see us as soon as we spoke to him, we thought he seemed like a fine choice, but we weren't so sure about the companion he'd been surrendered with. The naturally tuxedo-clad fellow was buried under a blanket and no amount of coaxing could convince him to have anything to do with us, so we almost had nothing to do with either of them.
One of our ideas going into the shelter however was to adopt an older pair who would likely have trouble finding a home. The profiles on these boys claimed they were both very friendly once they got to know you, so we took the plunge.
All was well for the first few hours. The Orange Boy remained outgoing and quickly took to exploring the apartment. Tuxedo Boy stuck mostly to the quiet room we'd set up, periodically poking his head out the door before scurrying back under the couch. Situation as expected - for the first few hours.
It turns out The Orange Boy doesn't handle stress well. And while moving to the Humane Society in the first place was stressful enough, moving again a month later was too much to take. His reaction?
He bit his own tail.
A lot.
Repeatedy.
Off.
Yes, after a trip back to the shelter's vets to have his nipped-at tail bandaged and his head coned, he still got past all that and got back at the tail badly enough that we had to bundle him up in the night and take him to an emergency clinic where, in the waiting room, he managed to nearly sever the tip.
So now he's back home, the damaged bit of tail surgically amputated overnight by a very kind and competent vet, who has also provided an anxiety medication to try to keep the tail-attacks under control until everyone has settled in. Speaking of which, Tuxedo Boy is already out of his shell and is proving to be a wonderfully loving and well-adjusted beast.
You know T.S. Eliot's notion on the naming of cats? We're going to call them by the names they came with to avoid confusing them, but for the Orange Boy's "name that's peculiar" Ouroboros has come under serious consideration.
While those are indeed pictures of our newly adopted family members, not everyone is still as happy:
In the shelter, that big orange boy (and he is VERY big) was the outgoing one who drew our eye. Meowing and purring and coming to see us as soon as we spoke to him, we thought he seemed like a fine choice, but we weren't so sure about the companion he'd been surrendered with. The naturally tuxedo-clad fellow was buried under a blanket and no amount of coaxing could convince him to have anything to do with us, so we almost had nothing to do with either of them.
One of our ideas going into the shelter however was to adopt an older pair who would likely have trouble finding a home. The profiles on these boys claimed they were both very friendly once they got to know you, so we took the plunge.
All was well for the first few hours. The Orange Boy remained outgoing and quickly took to exploring the apartment. Tuxedo Boy stuck mostly to the quiet room we'd set up, periodically poking his head out the door before scurrying back under the couch. Situation as expected - for the first few hours.
It turns out The Orange Boy doesn't handle stress well. And while moving to the Humane Society in the first place was stressful enough, moving again a month later was too much to take. His reaction?
He bit his own tail.
A lot.
Repeatedy.
Off.
Yes, after a trip back to the shelter's vets to have his nipped-at tail bandaged and his head coned, he still got past all that and got back at the tail badly enough that we had to bundle him up in the night and take him to an emergency clinic where, in the waiting room, he managed to nearly sever the tip.
So now he's back home, the damaged bit of tail surgically amputated overnight by a very kind and competent vet, who has also provided an anxiety medication to try to keep the tail-attacks under control until everyone has settled in. Speaking of which, Tuxedo Boy is already out of his shell and is proving to be a wonderfully loving and well-adjusted beast.
You know T.S. Eliot's notion on the naming of cats? We're going to call them by the names they came with to avoid confusing them, but for the Orange Boy's "name that's peculiar" Ouroboros has come under serious consideration.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
New Additions, Part One: How We Blew a Computer Geek's Mind
Yesterday we went shopping for Steve's very first computer. After years of simply dropping by the library occasionally, he's become enamoured with my laptop (or The Grey Box, as we've nicknamed it).
So now we have a new computer in the house and a new computer owner who's adjusting nicely. Before that could happen however, this entertaining conversation had to take place:
Clerk: So, what kind of system do you currently have?
Steve: Oh, I don't.
Clerk: You... uh, you don't?
Steve: This is my first computer.
Clerk: So where do you keep all your files?
Steve: I don't have any.
Clerk: You don't have any, like, personal files?
Steve: No.
Clerk: But don't you have music, or pictures even?
Steve: I have pictures, just not on a computer.
Clerk: But...
Steve: I have photos.
Clerk: Oh, okay, so you're a photographer...
Steve let the conversation move forward without correction while I stifled a giggle. The clerk didn't look as though he could have been younger than twenty-five, but apparently he couldn't fathom the average person owning photos that weren't digital.
I wish I'd seen the clerks's face when Steve asked him about the possibility of converting LPs. In fact I wish I'd had my digital camera.
So now we have a new computer in the house and a new computer owner who's adjusting nicely. Before that could happen however, this entertaining conversation had to take place:
Clerk: So, what kind of system do you currently have?
Steve: Oh, I don't.
Clerk: You... uh, you don't?
Steve: This is my first computer.
Clerk: So where do you keep all your files?
Steve: I don't have any.
Clerk: You don't have any, like, personal files?
Steve: No.
Clerk: But don't you have music, or pictures even?
Steve: I have pictures, just not on a computer.
Clerk: But...
Steve: I have photos.
Clerk: Oh, okay, so you're a photographer...
Steve let the conversation move forward without correction while I stifled a giggle. The clerk didn't look as though he could have been younger than twenty-five, but apparently he couldn't fathom the average person owning photos that weren't digital.
I wish I'd seen the clerks's face when Steve asked him about the possibility of converting LPs. In fact I wish I'd had my digital camera.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Baffled by Terabithia
If you haven't seen The Lion King know that you should, then skip to the next paragraph. If you have -- remember the really sad scene? The one after the wildebeast stampede, where Simba goes down into the valley and he's nudging Mufasa but nothing's happening? When I saw that movie in the theatre, the whole place was perfectly silent during that scene -- Perfectly silent until one small voice asked, "Daddy, why isn't he waking up?".
I'm worried some parents may find themselves in the same awkward position as that father if they take young children to see Bridge to Terabithia. I haven't seen the movie of course, but I have read the book. I won't spoil anyone with specifics, but all the commercials make the story look very Narnia-esque, what with the discovering of a magic land and what-not. Yet that isn't quite what Bridge to Terabithia is really about, and audience members who haven't read the book may find themselves watching a very different movie than they expected.
This has got me wondering who made the decisions about the tone of the commercials. I wouldn't be surprised if after it has it's first weekend there's a slew of more accurate ads. That seems to be a trend these days -- one set of pre-release ads and a whole new, more revealing set that comes after. I'm not sure of the marketing logic behind it, but I guess someone must have figured out that it works somehow.
It all reminds me of my second year studying screenwriting, when I was happily working away on a script that had a major twist at the end of the first act. I worked happily, that is, until the moment I realized there would be no way to advertise the film without giving away the twist. The bored audience would spend the first twenty minutes waiting for my main character to catch on to the very thing that had brought them into the theatre, and my marvelously clever rocking of their world!!! would fall flat.
It's been a long time since I begrudgingly rewrote that script and an even longer time since I read Katherine Patterson's novel that first brought Terebithia into the world. I'm sure the film is excellent and I'm sure it will do wonderfully well at the box office, but still I wonder about what almost seems a trick to get folks into the theatre in the first place. I doubt anyone will be disappointed, but there may be far more awkward post-movie conversations with youngsters than many parents were planning for.
Quick Link
Disney's Official Terebithia site
I'm worried some parents may find themselves in the same awkward position as that father if they take young children to see Bridge to Terabithia. I haven't seen the movie of course, but I have read the book. I won't spoil anyone with specifics, but all the commercials make the story look very Narnia-esque, what with the discovering of a magic land and what-not. Yet that isn't quite what Bridge to Terabithia is really about, and audience members who haven't read the book may find themselves watching a very different movie than they expected.
This has got me wondering who made the decisions about the tone of the commercials. I wouldn't be surprised if after it has it's first weekend there's a slew of more accurate ads. That seems to be a trend these days -- one set of pre-release ads and a whole new, more revealing set that comes after. I'm not sure of the marketing logic behind it, but I guess someone must have figured out that it works somehow.
It all reminds me of my second year studying screenwriting, when I was happily working away on a script that had a major twist at the end of the first act. I worked happily, that is, until the moment I realized there would be no way to advertise the film without giving away the twist. The bored audience would spend the first twenty minutes waiting for my main character to catch on to the very thing that had brought them into the theatre, and my marvelously clever rocking of their world!!! would fall flat.
It's been a long time since I begrudgingly rewrote that script and an even longer time since I read Katherine Patterson's novel that first brought Terebithia into the world. I'm sure the film is excellent and I'm sure it will do wonderfully well at the box office, but still I wonder about what almost seems a trick to get folks into the theatre in the first place. I doubt anyone will be disappointed, but there may be far more awkward post-movie conversations with youngsters than many parents were planning for.
Quick Link
Disney's Official Terebithia site
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