Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Booked and (gulp) Paid For

So I booked my room for San Francisco this morning. I'll be staying on Fourth Street (how American!) in the "only hotel in San Francisco with a state of the art recording studio." Just in case I want to rip out a single while I'm there!!!

Mosser Hotel, SF

The Mosser's actually pretty cheap for SF. (In fact, it is the cheapest thing you can book on the net, apart from motels out toward the airport.) I did consider doing the email rounds of hostels but it was easier just to have something booked. I don't want another One Gentleman of Prague Experience. Why I gulp is just how quickly a really cheap deal in US dollars ($59 a night) becomes a more weighty proposition in Aussie bucks ($90 a night). And there will probably be someone I need to tip, too!

Location location location though. I will be about five minutes walk from Union Square (which is like SF central), five minutes from the Museum of Cartoon Art, and five minutes in the other direction from the Tenderloin (which guidebooks say to be "wary" in). Hmmm.

Well you will hear all about it next week! (Possibly in my debut single...)

Monday, August 28, 2006

Fearless

I am leaving really quite soon and I need to start doing things like packing. Tonight I took the first step and went to see a martial arts film. Yeah!!!

It was Fearless, touted as Jet Li's finest martial arts film ever. I've got to say, despite the sometimes wooden screenplay, occasional OTT acting, obvious wires here or there and a complete disregard for historical veracity (thankyou wiki and google) it's an affecting film. For a martial arts epic that's saying something.

It's set in the early 20th century, a time when China under the Ching dynasty was at its lowest ebb and at the mercy of foreign powers. Huo Yuanjia is the child of a martial arts family - physically weak his father won’t train him, so he trains in secret, learning by spying on his father teaching his disciples… If that’s not the start of an epic, what is? Add a challenge to pit the best of the West against the meanest in the East, enemies intent on revenge and honour and an arena where combatants must sign “death waivers” and you’ve got a direct ticket to kung-fu heaven!

Huo Yuanjia will rise to become the founder of modern wushu but the way is not easy. We see Huo's highs, including the somewhat ambivalent high of being a big fish in a small pool in his native village, and we see some terrible lows. We see him go from physically weak to physically strong, and then have to go through the same journey with his spirit. We also see him kick a lot of ass with that inimitable Jet Li magic.

History of course gets chopped up to fit the mould of an epic. The setting is simplified to a clear-cut clash of cultures - weakened East and overbearing West - and leaves out the corruption and tyranny of the Ching dynasty’s waning years. This was a time when Chinese men were forced to adopt identical hairstyles on penalty of death (rather similar to the Taliban’s insistence on beards) among other oppressions. Many, including some of the Huo family’s friends, dreamed of the Chings’ overthrow – but this muddies the waters too much to rate a mention.

Likewise people in Yuanjia’s life get reinvented as more epic characterisations - the life changing love interest, the childhood friend / lifelong companion etc - and events get inflated to suitably dramatic proportions. Two of Huo's early opponents, a Russian wrestler and a British boxer, are combined into an American hulk (in so doing, gaining the courage to face him in the ring, which neither of the real guys did.) The hulk’s improbable name – Hercules O’Brien – is actually the only accurate part of the sequence.

Historically, Yuanjia's prowess against foreign challengers - from British colonial thugs to Japanese judo masters - restored Chinese national pride at a time when it was under attack. The film emphasises this fact grandly, with a liberal dose of communist symbolism sprinkled in. While the themes of the film aren’t played with subtlety, they nonetheless manage to be compelling, and while the film may fall into a predictable rhythm in parts, I did not expect in the early reels to be taken on the emotional journey the film became.

For me, this movie fills a similar role as Dragon, the Bruce Lee biopic. Like Bruce Lee, Huo Yuanjia was a genuinely inspiring man and both are inspiring films. I find their real stories more interesting than their simplified onscreen parrallels but without the movies might never have heard either story told at all. Fearless is not without its faults but it does pack a punch. A big Jet Li punch and you know you’re not walking away from that without feeling it for a long time.

How to Make a Mad Aussie

OK, before embarking (which is oh soon, and I'm oh so far from ready) I think I should spend a few minutes establishing my mad Aussie credentials, as advertised in the "about me" space.

On my mother's side I am descended from a long line of mad Aussies right back to the loopiest of the bunch, "Mad Tom" Davey, an officer on the First Fleet and later lieutenant governor of Tasmania, philanderer, alcoholic, right bastard and all round great Aussie bloke. That family line also includes zany characters like Greg Blaxland, who crossed the Blue Mountains and who we can therefore blame for rural New South Wales.

On the Dad's side I'm Latvian. Famous Latvians include Jason Akermanis. Enough said.

With this kind of pedigree, how can I possibly go right? Of course, the zaniest thing I personally have done lately is try to cross my office with a single push on my wheelie chair, but you know, a man's got to have a dream...



Friday, August 25, 2006

Hold the Hoo

Wooo-

I am half out. Yesterday was my final day as a desk jockey in an obscure corner of the mental health system. But I still need to go back in and make sure I've got copies of my stuff for my CV and that there are copies of all my reports out for the next guy (though it will probably be a girl - males are a rare and endangered species there). Yay for Saturday.

Farewell was kind of awkward and pointless. As usual you get a card signed by the couple of people who will actually miss you, a couple of people who can't wait to see the back of you but want to look nice and a whole lot of people who have no bloody clue who you are. Most people didn't come of course. "Nick Spindle? Who the fuck's that? What cake are they having? Ehh, sponge, call me when someone's having a mudcake."

Well that's the end of two years, eleven months and one week. We can say three years. Three years, six bosses, and so many coworkers (each with a cake and card I wrote something trite on) that I can't even remember all their names. It was a lot to pack up - especially as there were three years of work that mostly didn't go anywhere. All the junk - the reports that no one ever read, the plans that were never implemented, all the records of liaison between two people who didn't give a shit, the books and books of notes... it was like that scene in the Shining where she finds her husband's novel and sees that it just says "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy all work and no..." over and over. Except in this case, it was me who had been writing it.

Archived. Deleted. Shredded. Handballed. Get rid of it any way you can.

- HOOOOOOOOO!

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Change of Scene

Hi all. I've decided to move from the trashy corridors of MySpace to the more refined halls of Blogger. I feel better already. But it's not my only change of scene, as you know, as I am leaving for America in 2 weeks. Not for that long - a month or so - depending on funds, but it's as good an excuse as any to get my blog off to a new start, and will save you all from those group email things.

In memory of the travels of the most famous mad Latvian Australian of all, Crocodile Dundee, I'm calling it "That's not a knife!" My god, and you thought the 80s were over. Sorry. I look around at the hairstyles and I see it isn't so.

And in case you don't believe me that Crocodile Dundee was Latvian - here's the monument to him in his hometown of Dundagas.





Let's see if America can give me any sights wackier than that!!