Food Multitasking

Because of the recent hellish heat in the Philadelphia metro area, I've made the switch to my summer cooking style -- eating in restaurants.  Well, that's a slight joke, but our take-out consumption dramatically increases along with the temps and my oven gets little gas between mid-june and mid-september.  It is with great reluctance that I heat the kettle to feed the french press demon coffee maker. I only do it in the early mornings when the sun hasn't quite turned everything to burning plasma.

However, adaptation is survival, so I've developed some other hot-weather cooking skills.  There are very few things that I haven't tried to grill over the years and I'll make most anything in my Weber Kettle.  Also, I'll make dishes that can be served cold later in the day and do any prep-cooking early in the morning when it's still cool.  Which brings us to today's planned meal -- salade nicoise from the current issue of Saveur.  I think this will be really refreshing come 6:00 PM, with the temp solidly in the 90s.  That means, however, there are a bunch of things to cook this morning -- potatoes, beets, green beans.

The perfect part of the "cooking in the morning" thing is the multitasking aspect of it.

I can throw a couple of pots on the stove and check in as needed, but none of this is labor-intensive, so I can go back and forth with the food prep and writing. "What?!!" you say.  You aren't sitting at the computer, staring at the screen the whole time, sweating blood and dreams onto the keys?  Well, um, no.  My writing process involves a lot of walking around.  I can't stay sitting for too long and when the flow seems too slow, I walk around, fiddle with stuff.  That's why the cooking is good, 'cause I have something to check on when I'm pacing, and I don't get too distracted.

So, right now, I've got two pots on the stove to boil/blanch things, music streaming to a bluetooth speaker, and I'm off-and-on cleaning veggies.  The music is coming from my laptop in my summer home office -- my dining room table.  On the monitor, I've got this blog, the Soulwalker script draft, and the novel draft open on the desktop, as well as all the other usual internet distractions.  When a good thought comes, I type it up, then head back to check on the food.

If it's a good writing day, the food will be done before the writing, so then I need another distraction and I can focus on cocktail prep. I'm going to haul out the juicer to make fresh orange/lime juice for desert sunset cocktails to serve before the salad.  Booze, food, music, and writing.  That's my idea of multitasking.

The Thing With Prometheus...

People always ask me about films.

This, despite knowing that part of my academic job is learning and teaching how to rip films apart.  Not necessarily in a negative way, but in a critical way that examines how the films are put together.  This is a core component of know how to make a film.  Also, people ask me what I think about films even knowing what a cynical bastard I am.

So, you know, if you ask me about a film, fair warning: I'll tell you what I think.  Perhaps I overthink it, but you asked.  If you'd rather not have an actual answer, then just asked whether I liked a film, don't ask me what I think about a film.  See, I spend the head time that most people devote to Roth IRAs, stocks, and performance reviews considering movies, so you're going to often get a detailed answer if you ask.

Prometheus is a case in point.  LOTS of people asked me about Prometheus and I kind of dodged an answer because frankly, I don't want to spoil your enjoyment of the film.  However, a bunch of people know my admiration for the original Alien, my fondness for Sci-Fi in general, and my peripatetic admiration for Ridley Scott.  So, they asked.

Let me first say, there is much that is wonderful about this film: the beautiful visual extravagance of the opening 3D images and the imagining of the alabaster aliens in general was stunning, there were some wonderful performances from Charlize Theron and Michael Fassbender, and the sheer optimism that we will ever be able to build a ship that can travel like Prometheus was refreshing.

It is however, despite all talk of sequels, a disappointing story.

People have argued with me over this, but I bet I can ask you five questions about Prometheus that will change your view of the film.  If you don't want your view changed, then stop reading now.

1. What kind of "doctor" is Elizabeth Shaw?  Many are tempted to say archeologist, but at various points in the film she discourses on astrophysics, medicine, biology, sociology and more.  The real answer to this question is that she's a doctor of exposition -- a convenient mouthpiece to explain whatever plot point needs explaining at a given moment.

2. If you have hovering, wireless, 3d mapping robots, why wouldn't you toss those into the big, dark, dangerous alien ship BEFORE you actually go in yourself?  It may be the future, but apparently no one has ever played a video game.

3. Why are the archeologists forever rushing blindly into new discoveries without any remote hint of site protocol?  Moreover, why are the touching everything, including the moving black goo?

4. I can't imagine ever designing my own trillion-dollar spaceship, but even if you were, would you think it smart to make your quarters look like a spa?  I get the Weyland's are rich, but why must they be stupid as well?

5. Does anyone really believe you can give yourself an auto-surgical cesarian, then just hop up off the table and run around like an action hero?  Talk to a woman who's actually had a c-section, or do some basic anatomical research: cut the abs and you're doing no moving for a while.  Drugs strong enough to kill the pain will also knock you out.  I honestly thought this was going to be a dream sequence it was so outrageous and, when it wasn't, I couldn't seriously stay engaged in the movie.

These are really only the top of the heap.  I could keep asking these questions on and on and that, to me, is the sign of a flawed film.

Now, you asked me what I thought, so what I really think is I'm really no longer too excited about the rumored BaldeRunner sequel.

The Simple Pleasure of "FADE IN:"

A lot of writers will tell you the best part of a story/novel/script is when you get to "The End" and you've put that baby to bed.  Some cynical (and successful) people will say the best point is when you cash the check.  Many writers will tell you of the terror of the blank page, staring at that pristine white expanse and wondering how to fill it with little pieces of their brain.

As with a great many things, it seems, I'm of the contrary opinion.

I find no greater pleasure than empty pages and the opportunity with any script to write the words "FADE IN:"  It's the only point in the writing process where everything is right.  The story is all ahead of you and the possibility of perfection still exists.  That very possibility is like a time-travel device that allows you to feel the bursting invincibility you had as a teen, when your life was ahead of you and you still had the illusion that all doors could open.  "FADE IN:" is a reboot of all your dreams, hopes, and aspirations -- the chance that this time you'll get it all right.

So, when I'm looking at that empty white page (or screen, you literalists out there), I take a deep breath, pause to enjoy the potential, then I write "FADE IN:"

Summer Pleasures

This summer is an echo of those long, hot months of my youth: plenty of reading, plenty of fun - if not quality - movies, baseball, drinking and leisure.  Since I ridiculously over-worked myself during the regular academic year, I find myself with a summer clear of teaching.  That meas I have time to actually explore some books I want, see the movies I want, follow baseball as much as I want, and experiment with cocktails as much as I want.

There's a lot of potential to go off the rails here, and wake up after an 11-week bender, but I'm pretty sure I can handle the freedom.

I'm going to try to get back to blogging regularly as well, as a warm-up to my regular writing in the day.  See, I opened with that paragraph all about leisure, but honestly, I'm using the extra time this summer to get down to some creative business.  I've started writing a novel for the first time since college, have a new script to draft before fall, a short film to finish, a film trailer to shoot, a novella to revise, etc. etc.  I'm listing this not to throw down any gauntlet for comparison, because any creator always has a backlog of projects they want to get to, but as an illustration of -- I don't know -- my idea of leisure.  Also, those are the things I'm warming up for as I write these little ditties.

I'm going to cover each of these particular items in blog posts -- fair warning.  Right now, though, I'm going to go away and write "FADE IN:"

See you soon.

The Price Of Freedom

Politics and religion -- to paraphrase David Bowie -- are like fire and gasoline.  They seem to be unavoidably attracted to each other, but incendiary when combined.  Incendiary like say, I don't know, when you burn copies of the Koran.  Before I get too far into this, let me say for the record, yes, this was a stupid and insensitive action.  However, this incident has more shades to it than the popular media are willing to paint.

The most obvious starting point is the overall context.  Although details on the whole incident are murky, the burning itself doesn't seem to be a calculated statement by the soldiers, but rather that they were disposing of items confiscated from detainees.  Also, it's difficult to determine the actual extent of the burning.  When you flash the words "Koran Burning" in the media, it evokes images of truckloads of books dumped into a blazing bonfire, lighting up the night.  That does not seem to actually be the case.

Depending on where you fall on the religio-politico spectrum determines your ability to chain logical arguments together (clearly in evidence in Rick Santorum's campaign for president).  That's the only explanation I see for the logical conundrum that comes out of the religious extremist view on the sacred nature of every single copy of The Koran.  It's one thing to believe it contains the word of God, another to assume God's printing them up himself.  As a manufactured item, is the book sacred while its component parts are not?  The paper, the ink, the entire supply and printing pathway?  Why is it an affront to God when the book is burned but not offensive to him in any way when a suicide bomber could be killing those very men and women who printed and distributed it?  (Of course, I'm guessing most suicide bombers are incinerating their own copy of the Koran when they touch off the explosive and where does that leave the holy martyr?)  Beyond that, I find it over the edge of sanity to claim a book is sacred, while casually dismissing the value of human life.

To give an analogy that may help illuminate how far off the reality chart the fanatics are: imagine I barbecue a whole bunch of sacred stuff in my backyard including a Bible, a Koran, the American flag, a copy of Bambi, etc.  Then, the reaction I get is that US Senators, on the floor of Congress, insist the army be dispatched to my door and call for private citizens to kill me.

Thankfully, that's not the way America works.  Our freedom is is a guarantee that I can burn whatever I want as long as I'm not violating local fire codes.  I can't imagine the circumstances under which I'd ever be moved to burn a book or a flag, but the point is that it's my choice.  The price of that freedom is tolerating those you don't agree with.  Until that tolerance exists, freedom is bound as surely as if with iron shackles.

Tolerance does not imply agreement.  I tolerate Republicans, but rarely agree with them.  I would never willingly trample someone's religious beliefs, but at the same time I cherish my right to speak freely in dissent.  American soldiers are steeped more deeply in freedom than most, since they fight for it every day, so the actions that are so abhorrent to the fanatics can not be evaluated solely through the eyes of those fanatics.