Holly’s family (including parents Nancy and Harry, sister Amy) is really comfortable to hang around with. Everything’s real relaxed and Holly’s Virginia accent is strengthening by the moment. They have cows wandering the property. Yesterday after our (much-appreciated) naps we went up on a hike through the woods up the ridge behind their house. Out on the neighbours’ property they have a firing range set up for shooting at targets from a hundred to a couple of hundred metres away down a hollow.

Today we drove into town to run some errands and it’s kind of weird how spread out town is. It’s a bunch of scattered little settlement areas around hills from each other with farms in between. We went to visit Holly’s grandmother, got eggs from a dairy farm (I suppose there are also chickens around somewhere and these weren’t artificially-shelled cow ova), and got cinnamon buns at a place Holly might get a job. We also saw the town’s library, which was pretty decent, in a nice new building with friendly staff who recommended decent movies when they saw our stack of DVDs we were getting.

I think what I like best is seeing how happy Holly is to be home. I’m never this excited about being in Winnipeg. She’s enjoying the smells of her town and how beautiful the different drives out to her parents’ house are and running into people she hasn’t seen in a long while and being able to tell them she’s staying indefinitely.

The weirdest thing about being here is the lack of snow. It’s like 11 degrees Celsius and there’s no snow. I expected it to feel like fall in Vancouver, but this is a bit odd. The days are still pretty short though, so I don’t quite feel like I haven’t left Oz.

Having just flown across Canada twice in the past month, I was nonplussed with the movie selection (though again, Air Canada’s personal video players are a godsend on these long flights – thanks Austin for installing them). I watched a shitty Johnny Depp/Angelina Jolie movie and marvelled at how little like an actual human Ms. Jolie looks. I also watched The Fighter, which I liked and The King’s Speech which was all right. I could completely see what Marlis was talking about in regards to that textured wall she wanted to shoot people in front of. It was a very good wall.

I slept too, which was a good thing because the grilling I got at Customs was the most intense I’d been through since those Minneapolis customs guys took apart my bag and read my journal. (Yes, this was worse than when Sean and I came back from our forest and desert travels.) I was hoping it would be sweet and easy, especially since I didn’t want to get into the complications of my occupational training visa that hasn’t come through yet. Just talking as if I was a tourist coming for a couple of months. And well, that story got stress-tested.

After standing in a big long line the guy who stamped my passport barely asked anything and I thought, “Ah well, that was pleasant.” Then as I got past those desks, there was a guy in a blue shirt who stopped me to talk. He was the one who asked what I did and how I knew my friends I was coming to visit. And when that was done I thought, “That’s clever of them to have a secondary person to do the questioning once you think you’ve gotten away with anything you’re trying to pull. All catching you off-guard because you think you’re in the clear and can relax.” While I was thinking that there was another blue-shirted guy who popped up at a post-luggage carousel choke-point and went through my story.

“How did you get the money to come on this trip?” I never know how to answer that. “Well, you see sir, 30 years ago my father died, leaving a clear line of succession directly to me when my grandparents died so I obtained a lump sum of money and bought a condo and then sold it to go to library school.” Or is this money the money I saved working at the library in Winnipeg? Money is such a fiction, who really knows where “this money” came from, unless you’re tracking the actual physical legal tender as it came from the mint. I didn’t get into that with the blue-shirted guy. I guess I just don’t look enough like a man of independent means to have my assertions of multi-month holidays blithely accepted.

But in the end I got through. And they didn’t take apart either of my bags when they did their quarantine X-rays. Australians take their quarantine seriously: all of us on the plane had to sit for five minutes once we reached the gate so we and our possessions could be sprayed with an insecticide. Did you know you aren’t supposed to bring wood to Australia?

There’s a movie either coming out or that has just come out called Grown Ups. It’s got a whole pile of SNL alumni. The trailer looks like it’s about all these high school friends reuniting as grownups and probably learning something about themselves through hijinks. The other day Reyn had a great idea for that movie. It should be about those characters being grownups. Like just getting the kids ready for school and forgetting to buy eggs (evidently this is a thing about modern life that irks Reyn) and generally being boring. I think this would be the best idea ever. To have it billed as a huge wacky comedy with all those actors and then have it be a plotless day in the life cinema-verite kind of thing. To spend millions of dollars on an Andy Kauffman-esque joke. It would be perfect. And make no money.

Another thing I heard recently was a person talking about genocides. What struck me was how he introduced it by listing off the genocides of the 20th century: “Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot, Sudan…” As if the country Sudan itself was ordering people to be killed. The land all rising up and saying “This group of people is in the way politically. Get rid of them.” Technically it’s probably more accurate designating a state as the killer rather than ascribing all these deaths to one monstrous person, but it’s interesting to me how we don’t have a figurehead to blame for the situation.

I only have 9 more shifts at work before our road trip to Chicago. Ten shifts really, but one of them is a split. I don’t really mind the split shifts so much any more. Especially now that I get so few hours, it being summer and all. This week I had one and I discovered a Dairy Queen when I went walking for the couple of hours between shifts.

Let Me In is about a vampire that moves into a suburb of Stockholm in 1981. The vampire appears to be a twelve year old girl and she has a guy who appears to be her father who goes out and harvests blood for her (which is tricky because the victim needs to be alive as it’s getting bled out). He’s also a pedophile who’s being manipulated by the vampire’s knowledge of his lusts. The main protagonist is a 12-year-old boy who is their neighbour. He gets bullied and wets himself and dreams of being able to kill his persecutors. There’s also an assortment of drunks who’re trying to figure out what’s going on after one of their friends disappears. They’re like the completely inept and unsuitable Van Helsing squad, in that they behave the way a bunch of losers would.

This (Swedish) book was turned into a (Swedish) movie, Let The Right One In, which is supposed to be scary and great and is how the book came to my attention. They’re also doing an American remake of the movie (called Let Me In) which pleases me not a lot.

I’d hoped to be able to recommend this as an antidote to teens who say they like vampire novels because they read Stephenie Meyer or Darren Shan, but all the pedophilia and graphic disfigurement probably makes it way inappropriate. It’s too bad though because the vampire is suitably monstrous. It reminds you there’s a downside to the whole eternal life deal. Plus there’s some good ol’ redemptive violence to make you feel good at the end.

I also went out to McNally Robinson to spend the gift certificate I received from my fellow cheese factorians, and then watched some Flames of War gaming down at Imagine before heading to the Towne for The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus. I liked the movie but was also glad I didn’t spend $12 to see it at Silver City.

Bookninja says: Libraries in Vancouver should tell Olympics, and spineless bosses, to “fuck off”

The corporate assholes at the Vancouver Olympics, through the spineless leadership of the Vancouver library system, have instructed city librarians to not only not use products and services by competitors of official Olympic sponsors for Olympic-themed events, but also to cover with cloth or tape any existing infrastructure with offending brand names or logos. I’d say I’m speechless but, given the headline, I think I’ve got my response down.

Libraries should not be beholden to that kind of shit. Did you hear about the Sam Katz sponsored idiocy they’re planning to try in Winnipeg? Corporate naming rights to anything and everything, including library books. Maybe if someone wasn’t so fucking horny for a helicopter, the library would be able to get books that qualified librarians chose rather than whatever someone wanted their name in. I don’t know if that will actually affect any sort of buying decisions. How would I possibly know? But I don’t want to see libraries quietly fold and become part of the corporate bullshit pervading our society. That’s why I’m going to library school next year, inshallah.

A while back I read a book (which it appears I didn’t review here) called Revolting Librarians Redux. It’s about how librarians are supposed to change fucking systems. To make things better. Better cataloguing, better service, just betterness, often in spite of administrations. Because really, the idea of having information provided for free, and with people to help you sort through it, is a pretty great idea. Not everyone can afford broadband internet at home and not everyone can get through all the shit that’s out there. I hate the idea that these administrations try to turn libraries into corporate-sponsored zones. Pepsi doesn’t give a shit about giving the citizens a means to be informed, unless it is being informed about Pepsi. Libraries are supposed to be better than that.

Shut up and let me be an idealist.

These stupid policies get in the way of what competent librarian folk do. And these Vancouver Olympic policies were written by a City communications flack on her own initiative. Nobody said the Olympics weren’t going to happen unless a Wendy’s logo got covered up. There is nothing at stake beyond the freedom of information to be represented at the library. She was just worried about offending the money and wanted to tell her offensive colleagues down at the library to tone it down while the adults were in town. Rolling over preemptively in case of trouble. Just in case someone might be offended by the “wrong” symbol. Which is exactly what libraries shouldn’t be doing. Moral of the story: people in offices suck.

Unrelated to anything, I heard people talking about the movie The Warriors yesterday, and I (not being involved directly in the conversation) got to say “Caaan youuu diggiiiiit?” and only one of the people involved look at me like I was insane. The other was all over that shit, and we chatted about the movie and the videogame that brought the movie to my attention. Which was pretty satisfying.

This organization, Breach, is so powerful they could act with utter impunity, but if it’s not an emergency they have to follow the rules and be asked to handle things. I like this common idea of powerful entities having rules to follow. Vampires can’t cross running water. Police need a warrant. Breach must be asked. But. I don’t care about the little guy breaking the rules. In fact, I expect it, and get sort of sad when the powerless person doesn’t try doing something other than follow the rules. I’m having a weird time with how few people agitate against Breach in The City and the City. There are some, but I keep on wanting to shout at everyone, “You can see things! You shouldn’t have to unsee them!” But it’s a book and the characters (thus far) are well enmeshed in their setting.

A lot of fiction I read deals with the individual and celebrates the individual, especially in the face of power. For example, there’s an article I linked to a long time back about Murakami always wanting to be on the side of the egg not the wall, and you know how I feel about Murakami stories. Yesterday I watched a National Film Board movie from the 60′s called “Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Leonard Cohen.” He was all young and bright-eyed. In one bit Pierre Berton is trying to get young Leonard Cohen to say what he stands for, what great idea drives him, what issue burns in his soul. And Leonard Cohen says, “No idea; I just check if I’m in a state of grace.” His companion explains that Leonard Cohen is talking about the task of the individual to live one’s own life, but Leonard Cohen is sort of dismissive. I like that.

Of course, it’s easy to “identify” with the powerless when you’re a white guy with a beard and a Mac.

I saw the Deep Dark Woods, who I like and saw C.R. Avery at a covers workshop. He did a Neil Young song beatboxing with a harmonica. After that was over I floated to a bunch of stages. Because I was only there for a day I didn’t hang around workshops that didn’t grab me hard. Until the Songs of the Contemporary Cynic show with the Dust Poets and Mark Berube and Vance Gilbert, which was everything you want out of a folk festival workshop. The bands were bantering, had interesting instrumentation and they all joined in on each other’s songs. It was great. I took a bunch of pictures but in a fit of Luddism I only took my old film SLR so I don’t have them digitized (or developed) yet.

What else happened in the last week? I was dogsitting and Rudy didn’t end up dead from the cancer so that’s good. I read a couple of books (reviews will be up shortly) and saw Moon last night with Sean (who graciously accompanied me to a science fiction film). We discussed science fiction and issues afterwards and I was my usual articulate self. I should learn some day not to speak things I haven’t already worked out in writing. Discussions that come through my mouth never work, and I either blather to or patronize my listener. Sorry to everyone who ever tries to listen to me speak.

Today I broke down and got the MLB At Bat program for my iPod so I can listen to baseball games now that my free cable is gone. I can watch a couple each day too, but I’m not a huge fan of watching TV on the palm of my hand. I’m listening to the Mariners game right now. Ichiro was up and was called out on strikes. I tend to do other stuff while baseball is on anyway so listening to the games isn’t too shabby. Plus it gives you video highlights and condensed games and stuff.

It’s about a couple in their early thirties deciding where they should live. Verona is six months pregnant. They’re looking for a place. Their jobs can be done anywhere and they want to be close to some sort of friends or family. It’s kind of a “what people do with their lives” road trip movie. That’s it. I loved loved loved it.

Of course it’s pretty much pointed straight at people my age. People who kind of suspect they’re fuckups but don’t want to just live completely by default. Maybe there’s a lot of analysis that would prove why I shouldn’t like the film. Maybe it’s actually horrible. I don’t know. I liked it a lot, even though it made me sad.