Monday, August 15, 2016

"Today's all-action film heroine is rough, tough and putting leading men to the sword"/ "Crime writing gets a new dynamic duo"

May 18, 2016 "Today's all-action film heroine is rough, tough and putting leading men to the sword": I cut out this article in the National Post on Jun. 6, 2012:  


Brave girls are everywhere this year. If it’s not Katniss Everdene flexing her bow against the Capitol in The Hunger Games, it's Kristen Stewart’s Snow White versus Charlize Theron’s Wicked Stepmother, and the Scottish warrior-princess in Pixar’s much-anticipated fairy tale, Brave. At multiplex cinemas across the country, heroines are sweeping the board.

Surely we should be delighted by all these strong, bold, female archetypes? When I was a teenager back in the 1970s, you had to look to classics such as His Girl Friday and All About Eve to find women who were brave, clever and spirited. From the 1960s onwards – with the exception of Diana Rigg in The Avengers – women in film were there, according to Hollywood and the BBC, to look pretty and be vulnerable. Any action that was not about sex and romance involved screaming, running away in high heels or swooning.

Then entertainment caught up with feminism, and along came a slew of remarkable female roles: Ripley in Alien, Sarah Connor in Terminator, Disney’s Belle and Mulan. They set a precedent for hundreds of heroines who were not only as intelligent and strong-willed as the men in the story, but more so. Less nuanced than the heroine, less intelligent and usually weaker, the conventional hero seems now to be in greater danger than the Siberian tiger.

Next week sees the release of Universal Pictures’ Snow White and the Huntsman. Instead of a mild little thing who keeps house for seven dwarves and charms woodland animals (and the prince) with her sweet singing and gentleness, here we meet an action heroine who is far more appealing to contemporary tastes. Dressed in shining armour, the new Snow White will not be doing any housework; and it is she – rather than the uncouth Huntsman of the title – who will call the shots against her wicked stepmother by going into battle.

It is not the first time that we’ve seen a resourceful, resilient, tough-talking Snow White recently. In Mirror Mirror, released earlier this year, the wimpish – though good-looking – prince finds himself more than once in humiliating circumstances. Indeed, he and Snow White meet for the first time when, having escaped the clutches of her evil stepmother, she rescues him from a troupe of robbers (the seven dwarves on stilts).

There is no question that Katniss, the heroine of the box-office hit The Hunger Games, is a better fighter, hunter and survivor than the gentle, blond Peeta, whose special skill is to camouflage himself using techniques learnt decorating cakes in his father’s bakery. Avatar’s lunkheaded Jake has to be rescued and re-educated by the Na’vi princess he falls for. In Studio Ghibli’s ravishing adaptation of Mary Norton’s The Borrowers, the tiny Arietty is a bold and daring explorer while the boy who becomes her friend is ill and weak and awaiting a heart operation (not the case in the books). Even Aragorn in the film of Lord of the Rings has been made fallible in a way that Tolkien never indicated. Though he may be the closest thing we now have to an old-fashioned hero, he is openly tormented by self-doubt, and afraid of being corrupted by a hereditary moral “weakness” in his blood.

All of this is good fun for girls, but rather less so for boys. As yet another feisty female bounces on to the screen, eyes blazing and bow twanging, our sons have some excuse for grunting dismally and returning to the all-male worlds of Call of Duty or an old Arnold Schwarzenegger DVD.

What is going on? Do heroes and heroines have to be like cable cars, with one in the ascendant while the other descends? Scriptwriters have long realised that flawed heroes with emotional attachments and scars make for more interesting characters, but the contrast between weak hero and fearless heroine is so marked that it suggests a shift in the way boys and men are being perceived. The penetration of feminism into popular consciousness would be an excellent thing if it meant girls and women were shown to be equal to men – but this is closer to inequality. Could it amount, as some have always feared, to the emasculation and feminisation of the male sex?

The hero and the heroine have always reflected and amplified the ideal of what we wish to become, and to celebrate. Yet I can’t help feeling that a good deal is missing from modern male leads. My generation of menfolk grew up idolising James Bond, Hans Solo, Clint Eastwood and Indiana Jones. The epitome of charm, daring and cool, they seemed more confident and just as intriguing as characters do today, even while upholding traditional chivalric virtues such as honour, compassion, duty and self-restraint.

Perhaps I am biased in believing that the best men still reflect these qualities, but the hero as a cultural ideal does matter. Is it old-fashioned to wish for a return to a slightly less angst-ridden, more self-assured form of heroism? Is there anywhere it can still be found? It’s notable that the success of Game of Thrones, HBO’s riveting adaptation of George R Martin’s series of epic novels, A Song of Ice and Fire, has spread like wildfire among the males, even if they generally dislike fantasy. It appeals for many reasons, but one is surely the portrait it paints of a world in which men are men – which is to say, heroes. Heaven knows, we could do with more in real life, too.


May 23, 2016 "Crime writing gets a new dynamic duo": I cut out this article by Alison Gzowski in the Globe and Mail on Aug. 24, 2010:

Open The Postcard Killers and at first you might wonder if you've stumbled on some missing Stieg Larsson novel - or at least an attempt to cash in on the extraordinary success of the trilogy that began with The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.

Brutal killers are on the loose in Stockholm. A journalist has teamed up with a member of the opposite sex and the duo thinks they know more about tracking murderers than the cops. One of the main characters even bears the surname Larsson. And there are the requisite references to coffee and sandwiches.
But the author of the latest Scandinavian thriller to hit bookstores hardly needs a push from Larsson to move stock.

The story - about an amoral couple who seduce and murder holidaying victims - unfolds in brief chapters characteristic of James Patterson. Yes, that one: the man who last week topped Forbes' list of the highest paid writers in the world. In the 12 months leading up to June alone, the American novelist earned an estimated $70-million. He's sold some 170 million books.

So what's with all those Swedish twists?

Enter Liza Marklund. Patterson has teamed up with other writers for other thrillers. For this one, though, he decided to try out cross-cultural teamwork - inviting a Swedish writer to share a byline.

Patterson says he can't quite recall how the two writers came together. But he does remember that he and his international agent, Linda Michaels, had been considering a new publisher in Sweden. "I said two things interest me about what we could do: I had never worked with a European mystery writer before, and I'd never worked with a number one bestselling author before."
My strengths are a very big imagination and being a good storyteller. [My]weakness is craft James Patterson
Marklund certainly fit the bill. Although she isn't a household name in North America, her mysteries about journalist Annika Bengtzon consistently hit number one on European bestseller lists. (In Sweden, a country of about nine million, she's sold almost 900,000 books.)

And Patterson's timing was spot on. After writing 10 books in 10 years, Marklund was preparing to take a year off. She had planned to study Spanish - "I needed new thoughts in my head, to learn new things,' she says - but when the she got Patterson's offer, she thought seriously about working with the biggest thriller writer in the world "for about half a second."

For Patterson, this was a chance to get more stories out. "My strengths," he says, "are a very big imagination and being a good storyteller. [My] weakness is craft. I can do it probably better than I do, but I am less interested in that."

The resulting collaboration is so seamless, you can't tell where Patterson began or where Marklund has made any additions.

When they met in 2008 in Florida, Patterson already had a synopsis and an outline (which included enough convincing details about Stockholm that Marklund would later tell a journalist he'd been there several times; he had never been to Sweden). Marklund says she then contributed notes to the outline and more material about Sweden and its art scene.

They both say there was no friction during this process. And, contrary to most readers' assumptions, the authors agree that the rogue American policeman Jacob Kanon is more like Marklund in personality and style, while the Swedish reporter, Dessie Larsson, is closer to Patterson.

While the authors respect each other, tension between the American and the Swedes in The Postcard Killers manifests in a lively dig when the suspects have enough alibis to clear accusations, except for something only Americans would find suspicious - they visit art galleries.

And what about the long shadow that is Stieg Larsson? Patterson and Marklund began writing before his books and the film adaptations became quite such an international sensation, but each inevitably mentions him in conversation. Both say his work is not typical of Swedish crime writing - not as "quiet or realistic," says Patterson. Marklund thinks Larsson's phenomenal success has something to do with Harry Potter.

"If you think of the heroine, Salander," she says, "she has many similarities to Harry Potter. They're both orphans and intelligent, and they have magic powers. She can do anything with a computer - she can get into any computer or bank account. She's a true magician when it comes to computers. And they both navigate through evil that is related to them."

As for Larsson's success, Marklund notes that Sweden has produced a breakthrough mystery writer every 10 years. Twenty years ago it was Henning Mankell with his Wallander series. A decade later, it was, well, Liza Marklund. And 10 years from now, she predicts, there will be another Stieg Larsson.

Typically Swedish or not, Larsson's books have been able to do something others haven't: capture a huge readership on both sides of the ocean.

This is no small feat, considering the different audiences. Sweden doesn't really have commercial thrillers, says Marklund - no James Patterson, no Stephen King. Their crime books tend to the literary and, in taking on contemporary issues, expose the cracks in the social democratic state. They take their crime writing seriously (even giving one book a major book prize) and homegrown mystery writers dominate their bestseller lists.

In the United States, says Patterson, "you write a book and for the most part you can't find a journalist."

The Postcard Killers is a departure for him, he says, encompassing the "realism and social aspects of the Scandinavian [mystery]with the rip-roaring American thriller."

Asked to describe how Swedish the book is, Marklund simply says it's an American or international thriller.

Released in Sweden in late January, it was number one on bestseller lists by the next month (with the authors doing over 40 interviews in three days). It's early to gauge the North American response, but there are new deals ahead for both authors. In Sweden, four of James Patterson's books will be published within the next year (he's been published there before but without great success). In October, Liza Marklund makes her Canadian debut with Red Wolf, the latest addition to Random House Canada's World of Crime.

Perhaps the benefits of co-authoring aren't so mysterious after all.



"Gould retains his power to inspire"/ "How To Make Love to a Movie Star"

May 17, 2016 "Gould retains his power to inspire": I cut out this article by Kate Taylor in the Globe and Mail on Aug. 28, 2014:

A very familiar figure has parked himself on stage these days at Soulpepper’s home in Toronto’s Distillery District: The props department has cleverly produced its own version of the iconic bronze statue of musician Glenn Gould in cap and coat that sits on a bench outside the CBC building on Front Street.

“What’s this made of?” asks playwright David Young as he fingers the statue, discovering that the faux bronze is surprisingly soft to the touch. Whatever the mysterious material may be, he poses amiably with the fake Gould; after all, Gould is an icon that has presided over much of the 68-year-old dramatist’s theatrical career.

Soulpepper is currently reviving Young’s best-known play, Glenn, a 1992 four-hander in which Gould is represented at four different psychological stages of his career. The complex play was an artistic success when it was first mounted by Necessary Angel Theatre, setting a more sophisticated standard for stage biographies than the usual confessional monologues. But, let’s face it, if the script has been performed everywhere from Stratford, Ont., to Japan, Germany and the Netherlands, the continuing international fascination with the eccentric figure of Gould has a lot to do with it.

“He’s an enduring enigma. We understand how singular he was, how astonishing his talent was, and also his modesty, his humility, very Canadian,” Young says. “He’s sort of like that slightly odd uncle that everybody has, who is loved by all, difficult to understand, but somehow he has something we all wish we had. I am not just talking about music talent, but about that ability to commune with the great unknown.”

World-renowned as a pianist but also recognized for his writing on music and technology, Gould was as much a philosopher as anything else, Young believes. He first had the idea for the play – his third of seven to date – when he encountered the mature Gould’s wry dismissal of his youthful recording of Bach’s Goldberg Variations.

“He didn’t identify with the spirit of the person who made that recording and in his very derogatory, dry way, he said, ‘There was an awful lot of piano playing in that recording.’ You know, the blindly fast, beautiful, change-the-world-of-classical music recording. ‘Quite a bit of piano playing.’ The seed [for the script] was: Wouldn’t it be fantastic if he actually met that guy, if he could encounter the soul of that guy he didn’t identify with.”

And so Young wrote a play in which the eccentric perfectionist, who has retreated into the recording studio, can argue with the energetic youth who thrills the concertgoers. Through the years a Who’s Who of Canadian stage actors have assayed the roles, sometimes graduating up through the ages; this time out, Jeff Lillico plays the youthful Prodigy, Mike Ross plays the maturing Performer, Steven Sutcliffe plays the increasingly eccentric Perfectionist and Brent Carver is the late-life Puritan.

“He was a very complicated, interesting animal. … Underneath the great philosophical structure he built up was the man and his issues, his way of connecting with the world,” Young said, noting how Gould developed his prescient theories about recorded music partly to protect himself from the nerve-racking experience of performing concerts.

With four actors playing different facets of one person, a structure based on the Variations themselves and a lot of philosophy to boot, the original script benefited greatly from a long gestation period under director Richard Rose at the Necessary Angel Theatre company. As Soulpepper lavishes resources on it 22 years later, Young feels director Diana Leblanc may be about to give the play its definitive production.

“The big difference is Soulpepper. They have the resources here; you get six weeks of rehearsal. I never get six weeks of rehearsal.”

Long development periods and well-funded revivals are both luxuries in Canadian theatre. Young, whose most recent new play was his 2004 adaptation of the Alistair MacLeod novel No Great Mischief, is sitting on a multimedia piece about the Renaissance painter Caravaggio that is just waiting for a theatre company with the money to develop it. He is also hoping he may some day see a revival of Inexpressible Island, his 1997 play about the scientific arm of the Scott Antarctic expedition that is, after Glenn, his great philosophical drama. In between plays, he was trying to break into television scriptwriting but gave it up as a bad job.

“It’s supposed to be the golden age of television – not in Canada,” he says, bemoaning the green-light process where a writer pours his heart into a script that only a handful of people have read before a TV executive announces: “No, we are going to do the one about doctors.”

Instead, he has turned to literary fiction, retreating to an island on Georgian Bay to work on a project he will only describe as “a novel about the transformative power of art” and “half-cocked.”

He also volunteers with the development charity Dignitas International, a Canadian group that works on AIDS/HIV research and education projects in Malawi. He was there earlier this year, filming a local theatre company performing a play about sexual behaviour, and will return in October to screen the film as part of a pilot project that would use screenings to trigger community discussions about AIDS. He describes his African experience as transformative, confirming his sentiment that what led him to Gould was a shared sense that life is a spiritual quest.

“Gould’s world put an engine in me. … Coming back to the play, I had forgotten how much his thought changed me. It permeates my thinking. … The sense that the task of being a human being is the lifelong construction of a state of wonder and serenity. I guess I feel I am a bit of a seeker myself.”




I cut out this blurb book review on Aug. 4, 2012:


How To Make Love to a Movie StarWriting for Film, by Norman Snider, 184 pages, $22.95

Norman Snider, Canadian author, teacher (at the University of Toronto) and screenplay writer (Dead Ringers, Call Me, Rated X), uses 25 years of expertise and lecturing experience to offer an expert guide to the secrets of writing for the movies, including dramatic structure, characters and story development.

He discusses the writer’s role in the process of making a film or television program, in both Canada and Hollywood, especially collaboration and the practical details of writing for commercial productions. Chapters discuss characters and the relations among them, settings, structure ranging from the classic three acts to the modern variations, the uses of suspense, dialogue and description, action, humour and adaptation. Snider also discusses the business side of the industry, including agents and producer, and the difficulties of breaking into the industry.



“Modelling a culture after The Simpsons”/ "Revenge: Eleven Dark Tales"

Apr. 6, 2015  “Modelling a culture after The Simpsons”: I cut out this article by Alexandra Molotkow in the Globe and Mail on Jul. 12, 2014.  It had a picture of actors dressed up like the Simpsons so I had to read it.  The article is actually kind of deep as it dwells into a novel.  Here’s the whole article:
 
I worry, as we all do, about the decimation of the human race from climate catastrophe, supervolcanic eruptions, plagues. An asteroid at least wouldn’t be our fault, which is liberating the way it is when a plane hits turbulence and you realize that if you plummeted to your death it wouldn’t matter that you smoked for 15 years.

I also worry, selfishly, about the extinction of human culture as I’ve known it, for reasons both existential and practical. The music and books I love, the TV ads I remember, even the Far Side cartoons I’ve read and the novelty mugs I’ve drunk from, are so much a part of my consciousness that to think of them gone forever is to consider the end of me. Second, even if I survived the apocalypse, what would make life worth living?

I thought of this while reading Edan Lepucki’s California, a post-apocalyptic novel that received a huge publicity bump last month from satirical TV host Stephen Colbert, who encouraged viewers to buy it from independent bookstores as part of a middle-finger salute to Amazon (Colbert and Lepucki share a parent publisher, Hachette, whose titles have been shunted by the online superstore). It tells the story of Frida and Cal, a twentysomething couple in a United States rattled by climate catastrophe, who flee a rotting Los Angeles for the countryside. After Frida gets pregnant, they abandon their home in the woods for a strange community guarded by giant spikes made from junk. The inhabitants aren’t as menacing as expected, but human drama ensues.

Lepucki is less concerned with doomsday logistics than with a more essential question: What will make life meaningful when life as we know it ends? The book is a love story, fuelled mostly by the tension between Frida, Cal and their baby-to-be, but love, in this case, isn’t necessarily redemptive or virtuous. It’s a moral contranym: on one hand, nothing else matters when you’ve got love; on the other, when you’ve got love, nothing else matters. Through twists and turns, Frida and Cal end up in a private community for the surviving wealthy, where the shopping plaza plays How Much Is that Doggie in the Window and troublemakers are made to disappear. A suburban hell, but safe for the family.

Instead, the most heroic theme in California is human resourcefulness – how we carry “home” on our backs and remake our lives with whatever’s available. Frida invests a turkey baster with totemic properties and trades an old bra for a pair of Vicodin. Alone in the woods, she and Cal entertain themselves by having sex (“it replaced the Internet, reading, going out to dinner, shopping”) and meditating on terms (“Magic Marker, air conditioner, strawberry. It was more entertaining than Frida would have ever imagined it to be”).

It’s strangely uplifting to consider how future generations might salvage the ruins of ours. Consider Anne Washburn’s Mr. Burns, a post-electric play – which will see its Canadian premiere, produced by Outside the March and co-directed by Mitchell Cushman and Simon Bloom, next May – in which survivors of a presumed nuclear holocaust build a new culture based on The Simpsons.

In the first act, characters remember old episodes for comfort and to pass the time. By the second, survivors have formed rival theatre troupes to perform them, buying repertoire piecemeal from strangers – Simpsons lines have become a commodity – and staging “commercial breaks.” Everyone remembers how ads work, by selling status and identity over product, but no one quite remembers which products mean what.

The third act, set 82 years after the beginning, is a musical reconfiguration of the show’s Cape Feare episode (in which Sideshow Bob – now Mr. Burns – tries to murder Bart Simpson on a houseboat). Bits of Ricky Martin, Britney Spears and The Grinch Who Stole Christmas are absorbed into an allegory of the fall of civilization and the dawning of a new order. “And now that I’ve lost everything,” sings an uncanny Bart, “Now that everyone I love is gone/ All I have left is everything/ The river carries me on.”

It’s absurd, but not ridiculous. The Simpsons is the perfect basis for a new culture: both art and entertainment, profound and escapist, smart and stupid and wadded so deep in our psyches that, as the grounds for collective imagining, Springfield might as well be the astral plane. (For an example of how the show has been completely rewired for a new world – one in which the dysfunctional middle-class family is a literal pipe dream – and a new medium, consider @Homer_Marijuana, a Twitter account that tells a surprisingly grim story of the family’s weed dependency.)

The worlds of California and Mr. Burns are post-television, post-Internet – their predominant medium is memory, which warps culture more vividly than anything you’d need a generator to access. We know that our way of life is doomed, and that everyone will lose everything, and even through the best of times the end buzzes like office lights. But the prospect of building a new culture from figments of the old is oddly soothing. The only cause for optimism is human imagination.


"Revenge: Eleven Dark Tales": I cut out this book review “Ordinary lives cracked open” by Monica Rhor on Feb. 8, 2013.  She reviews this book by Yoko Ogawa, translated by Stephen Snyder.  Here’s the whole review:

They are the scenes of ordinary life: a mother stopping by the neighborhood bakery to purchase two strawberry shortcakes for her son's birthday, an aspiring writer toiling over a manuscript in a spare apartment, a young woman preparing dinner for her beau, a woman spying on her husband's mistress.

Yet in Yoko Ogawa's story collection, "Revenge: Eleven Dark Tales," those ordinary exteriors are merely brittle shells that crack open to reveal darkness, death and despair. Woven through the 11 interconnected tales is a thread of the grotesque, the macabre, the mournful.

The mother's errand turns out to be a paean to inconsolable loss. The writer emerges as an unhinged character that evokes both love and pity. The amorous young woman finds herself entwined in both a murder scene and a museum dedicated to torture.

Ogawa, a prolific author whose work has appeared in The New Yorker and Harper's Magazine, laces her stories with gruesome murders, exotic animals and peculiar events. Her language is both spare and searingly precise, crystallizing the details of everyday existence and capturing the unexpected shock of the bizarre.

In "Sewing for the Heart," for example, the narrator is a bag-maker who has been contracted to create a purse for a beating heart. The client is a cabaret singer who was born with the organ outside her chest. The narrator gasps in awe at the sight and utters an oddly erotic ode to the throbbing muscle: "What extraordinary, breathtaking beauty! Would it feel damp if I cupped it in my hands? Would the membrane rupture if I gave it a squeeze? ... I wanted to run my fingertips over each tiny bump and furrow, touch my lips to the veins, soft tissue on soft tissue, the pressure of her pulse against my skin."

Many of Ogawa's characters, including the bag-maker and the cabaret singer, reappear in other stories, as do details and events in ways that are sometimes incidental, sometimes integral to the plots. The effect is, as Ogawa describes the novel written by the unhinged author, an "icy current running under her words."

In these stories, ordinariness is not a mask hiding the morbid and the macabre. In many cases, the ordinary life itself, with its insistent drip of isolation, sameness, sadness and loss, is what pushes the characters to the edge of madness and vengeance.

As Ogawa writes in "Welcome to the Museum of Torture," which introduces readers to an exhibit space for devices such as corsets that crush internal organs and tweezers used to slowly pluck out a victim's hair: "For torture to be effective, the pain has to be spread out; it has to come at regular intervals, with no end in sight."

Ogawa's haunting prose may not be to everyone's taste, but readers willing to explore the murkier edges of the human psyche will not be disappointed.


Dec. 24, 2015 Zemanta: I cut out this article "Love your users; kill things that don't work: Tool for bloggers" in the National Post on Apr. 2, 2012.  It was in the business section, but it was related to blogging:

"Zemanta is a platform for assisted on-line content production for any web user. A blog, an article or a web page is fed it into its system which then recognizes the content and returns suggested images, smart links, keywords and relevant related stories from the Internet. It can be referenced from a user's preferred content publishing platform through a plug-in."



Mar. 23, 2016 Screenwriters Meetup: I went to one of these meetups last week and I didn't like the script.

It was offensive like that Punk'd episode where Jennifer Love Hewitt thought she was in real and present danger.  She thought she was going to get beaten up for being in this director's office.  The director was going to get beaten up and maybe Hewitt too.

The screenwriter S did say his script was supposed to be dark.

My week:

Aug. 8, 2016 Filmmakers meetup: I have been attending these since Aug. 2015.  In 2016 I have been inviting my friend Dan L. to attend these events.  These occur every 2 weeks.  The last one I sent to him, I did tell him that if he doesn't want to come, I will stop emailing it to him.  He finally attended one.

Charity: I have met his friends by going to his church and one of his friend C's house.  At C's house, we have deep and meaningful discussions about important topics like generosity.  One woman L there says she gave $5 to a homeless guy one time, and he was huffing gas.  She knew he was probably going to spend it on drugs, but she did anyway.  She said something about drugs are more important to this guy to stay warm.

I said to donate to charities like Hope Mission and that charity will help homeless people like feed them.  That is where I can guarantee the money pays for food instead of drugs and alcohol.

I remember talking to my friend Sonia about giving money to homeless people and she won't give money to them.

I really like going to C's house.  I've been there a couple of times.  It reminds me of having deep and meaningful conversations with one of my friends whom I accidentally offended in 2013 and she pushed me away. 

Jurassic Forest: Have you heard of this?  I saw a billboard ad and looked it up.  It's in Gibbons, AB.  I watched the video and it's of big life- like animatronic dinosaurs in a forest.  It looks cool and all.  However, I feel like I would end up getting bored like I was at the Telus World of Science. 

I looked up the activities there, and it seemed more for kids and families.




Aug. 10, 2016 Fun activities: I was looking up fun things to do in Edmonton.  The things that came up are like Telus World of Science, Muttart Conservatory, and Fort Edmonton Park.  I've been there for school field trips.  There is the Edmonton Valley Zoo.  I remember going to a zoo when I was a kid.  I don't really have any interest in this.  I did attend the Street Performers Festival and the Artworks Festival.  I did walk through the Taste of Edmonton Festival.  I have been to those a lot over the years.  It's not that interesting.

I saw a billboard ad for Speeders and that's go- cart racing.  I have never done that before, and I'm not really interested in it.


I even entered to win free tickets to see this musical that I found an entry form in the Edmonton Journal.  I didn't win.  The thing is I bought a pack of 10 stamps at London Drugs, and they can't sell 1 stamp.  I used  2 stamps to enter two different times to win the Sherlock Holmes contest.  I have lots of stamps leftover.   


I have to look for Meetups to go to.

Aug. 12, 2016: Yesterday was my birthday, but it was on a Thurs.  I already celebrated it already on Aug. 1, 2016 by going to West Ed mall. 

Aug. 13, 2016 Pokémon Go: I'm sure some of you guys may tell me to play this game, but I'm not going to.

1. I don't like Pokémon.

2. I don't have an iPhone. 

I'm on the bus and at work, and people are playing it. I will always associate Pokémon with The Simpsons episode where they make fun of the TV show Kids Say the Darndest Things.  Cut to Bill Cosby interviewing a 7 yr old boy.

Cosby: So what do you like to play?
Kid: Pokémon.
Cosby: Pokémon?!  You mean the poking and the mon, and the Ash Catch' em, and the blaaaah.....

Day off: Today I got a day off from my 1st restaurant job.  I woke up early and read the newspaper outside in the morning.  In the afternoon I went and recycled my pens and batteries at Staples.  I haven't been there since Feb. 2016.

I then visited my friend Jessica at work.  If it wasn't my day off, my Sat. are usually me working in the morning and reading the newspaper in the afternoon.

Today was a sunny day.