I’ve decided to not let things lie with this post (UPDATE: Link fixed), and start featuring pictures of Wonder Woman on a regular basis.
So here’s Wonder Woman!
(source)
A regular feature starts…?
A Random Wednesday Conversation Starter
Fixing the Prequels: Attack of the Clones (part nine)
part seven
part six
part five
part four
part three
part two
part one
Wow! Two of these posts in the same month! Will wonders never cease!
So, having addressed what I feel to be the most damaging scene in the Prequel Trilogy in the preceding post, we’ll address what I consider to be the biggest missed opportunity in the Prequel Trilogy in this post. As much as I love Attack of the Clones — and really, I love it, it’s a terrific movie and I’ll have words with anyone who says otherwise – George Lucas just didn’t get the Naboo scenes right, and they drag down everything else that happens.
But first, after Padme and Anakin’s fireside chat, we cut back to Obi Wan on Kamino, where he checks in with the Jedi Council (actually, just Yoda and Mace Windu):
INTERIOR: TIPOCA CITY, CORRIDOR – DAY
OBI-WAN stands with TAUN WE just inside the open door.
LAMA SU: Tell your Council the first battalions are ready. And remind them that if they need more troops, we will need time to grow them.
OBI-WAN: I won’t forget. And thank you.
TAUN WE: Thank you.
EXTERIOR: TIPOCA CITY, KAMINO LANDING PLATFORM (RAINSTORM) – LATE DAY
OBI-WAN comes out from the tower into the driving rain. The door closes behind him. He pulls his robe around him and stands braced against the gale. OBI-WAN glances back toward the closed door, confirming that LAMA SU has left.
Below, a huge wave crashes against the stilts. Spray flies high and whips across the platform to where OBI-WAN is standing. He walks over to his Starfighter, looks to see if anyone is watching, then addresses ARFOUR.
OBI-WAN: Arfour.
EXTERIOR: TIPOCA CITY LANDING PLATFORM, JEDI FIGHTER (RAINSTORM) – LATE DAY
The R4-P17, OBI-WAN’S Astro-Droid, who is still sitting on top of OBI-WAN’S Starfighter, switches on and BEEPS.
OBI-WAN: Arfour, relay this, “scramble code five,” to Courscant: care of “the old folks home.”
ARFOUR BEEPS and WHISTLES. The panels light up inside the cockpit. A transmitter disc emerges from the top of the Starfighter and the message is transmitted.
INTERIOR: JEDI TEMPLE, YODA’S QUARTERS – LATE AFTERNOON
YODA sits with MACE WINDU. between the two Jedi, a hologram of OBI-WAN speaks.
OBI-WAN: (V.O.) I have successfully made contact with the Prime Minister of Kamino. They are using a bounty hunter named Jango Fett to create a clone army. I have a strong feeling that this bounty hunter is the assassin we’re looking for.
MACE WINDU: Do you think these cloners are involved in the plot to assassinate Senator Amidala?
OBI-WAN: (V.O.) No, Master. There appears to be no motive.
YODA: Do not assume anything, Obi-Wan. Clear, your mind must be if you are to discover the real villains behind the plot.
OBI-WAN: (V.O.) Yes, Master. They say a Master Sifo-Dyas placed the order for a clone army at the request of the Senate almost ten years ago. I was under the impression he was killed before that. Did the Council ever authorize the creation of a clone army?
MACE WINDU: No. Whoever placed that order did not have the authorization of the Jedi Council.
YODA: Into custody, take this Jango Fett. Bring him here. Question him, we will.
OBI-WAN: (V.O.) Yes, Master. I will report back when I have him.
The hologram of OBI-WAN fades.
YODA: Blind we are, if creation of this clone army we could not see.
MACE WINDU: I think it is time to inform the Senate that our ability to use the Force has diminished.
YODA: Only the Dark Lords of the Sith know of our weakness. If informed the Senate is, multiply our adversaries will.
I wouldn’t change any of this. The Kamino sequences are extremely well done; as has been so often the case in this series, I keep finding things that are well done in this trilogy of movies that most people have derided as wall-to-wall suck. Oh well.
I like that the mystery apparently shows no sign of being solved at this point; in investigating an assassination attempt on Padme, Obi Wan has happened on something much larger. I like how Yoda and Mace Windu are now suspecting that something very grim is going on, and that it’s something they’ve failed to sense. The implication that the Jedi have been so successful for “over a thousand generations” by virtue of their ability to sense what the servants of the Dark Side were up to is a big one, as is their suspicion that those days are at an end. This scene lays it out clearly: the Jedi are on the wane, and they are nowhere near their top form anymore. One snarky complaint about the Prequel Trilogy I often hear goes like this: “Jeez, the Jedi sure get their butts kicked! How can these be the cream of the Jedi crop?” Obviously, they aren’t. It amazes me how often George Lucas’s critics manage to completely miss the point.
By the way, I love that Obi Wan’s coded reference to the Jedi Council is “the old folks’ home”. The Prequel Trilogy is full of little details like that which are awesome; it’s almost as if George Lucas thrives on the small details and thus sometimes loses sight of the entire thing.
Anyhow, just after this, we cut back to Naboo. Anakin is trying to sleep, and having some difficulty: we see him writhing about in bed, moaning a lot, before he suddenly wakes up. Clearly he’s having a nightmare, although the way the scene is filmed, well…let’s just say that it’s shot in such a way as to allow the more juvenile members of the audience to jeer the screen as though Anakin is doing something else in bed. By himself.
Yeah.
Anyway, here’s where Lucas made the mistake of showing Anakin having a nightmare about his mother without actually showing the nightmare. After Anakin awakens, we fade to a gorgeous Naboo sunrise (really, the shot of the sun-dappled waters of the lake is one of the most beautiful shots in the entire Star Wars saga), and Anakin standing on a veranda, watching it:
EXTERIOR: NABOO LAKE RETREAT, LODGE, BALCONY OVERLOOKING
GARDENS – MORNINGANAKIN is on the balcony overlooking the gardens. After a moment, PAMDÉ comes onto the balcony behind him. She sees he is meditating and turns to go.
ANAKIN: (eyes closed) Don’t go.
PAMDÉ: I don’t want to disturb you.
ANAKIN: Your presence is soothing.
Brief pause.
PADMÉ: You had a nightmare again last night.
ANAKIN: Jedi don’t have nightmares.
PADMÉ: I heard you.
ANAKIN opens his eyes and looks at her.
ANAKIN: I saw my mother. I saw her as clearly as I see you now. She is suffering, Padmé. They’re killing her! She is in pain… I know I’m disobeying my mandate to protect you, Senator. I know I will be punished and possibly thrown out of the Jedi Order, but I have to go. I have to help her! I’m sorry, Padmé. I don’t have a choice.
PADMÉ: I’ll go with you. That way you can continue to protect me, and you won’t be disobeying your mandate.
ANAKIN: What about Master Obi-wan?
PADMÉ smiles and takes his hand.
PADMÉ: I guess we won’t tell him, will we?
This scene starts out really well, as shot: the gorgeous sunrise, the way Anakin is standing on the veranda, with his hands behind his back, suggestive (and therefore foreshadowing) of the shots in the Original Trilogy of Darth Vader standing on the bridge of his Star Destroyer, and the awkwardness between Anakin and Padme after the conversation the night before. I also like what Lucas is trying to do here: he’s setting up another of the many parallels between Anakin’s experiences and the later experiences of his son, Luke. Remember in The Empire Strikes Back, how Luke is tormented by visions of his friends suffering, so he abandons his Jedi duties to go after them, with disastrous consequences? Anakin is doing the same thing here, and the consequences will be even more far-reaching.
And yet, I’d replace the scene entirely. Bummer. Why? Because, while I think the scene is nice and gets some things done nicely, those things can be done better in another way, and some other things that need to get done can get done.
In previous installments, I’ve argued that Padme’s feelings for Anakin come to the fore a little too quickly in the film, and that they need something to help them along. In the great movie traditions, what drives film romance is often shared adversity. So I’d use this part of the film to give Anakin and Padme some adversity to share, in the form of something I’ve thought the film needed ever since I first saw it: a third assassination attempt on Padme. So here’s how I would rewrite this entire sequence:
INTERIOR: Naboo – Lake retreat – bedroom – night.
ANAKIN is sleeping restlessly. He is tossing about and moaning.
ANAKIN: Mom…no…Mom, look out!
ZOOM IN on ANAKIN as we FADE TO a series of confusing shots: SHMI SKYWALKER standing in the Tatooine desert, holding out her arms to ANAKIN; ANAKIN trying to reach her but not being close enough; SHMI being set upon by shadowy attackers and carried off; SHMI and ANAKIN screaming.
ANAKIN snaps awake. He is sweating heavily.
ANAKIN: No!
His shout is loud enough to awaken ARTOO, who whistles with concern as ANAKIN rubs his eyes and swings his legs out of bed. He gets up, pulls on a robe, and exits the room. ARTOO follows.
EXTERIOR: Naboo – Lake retreat – balcony – night.
ANAKIN emerges from the house onto the balcony and gazes at the moonlight upon the lake. Then he glances down and sees the boats tied at the pier.
INTERIOR: Naboo – Lake retreat – Padme’s bedroom.
PADME is awake as well. She is sitting in an armchair, sipping a cup of tea and looking at some holographic photos of her life, from the time of the occupation ten years earlier. She glances at the table beside her, and we see what she is looking at: the little wooden pendant that ANAKIN had carved for her ten years before. She sighs, and then gets up and exits.
EXTERIOR: Naboo – Lake retreat – beach – night.
PADME is walking along the beach, a short distance away from the villa. She comes to a particular spot, where she removes her robe, revealing a beautiful but discrete bathing suit underneath. She wades out into the water and then starts swimming toward the small island she’d indicated earlier.
EXTERIOR: Naboo – Lake retreat – island – night.
PADME swims onto the shore of the island and walks up onto the grass, and then onto the knoll where the small island’s highest point is. She gasps: ANAKIN is sitting there, gazing out at the water. She starts to say something, and then doesn’t; she turns to go back when ANAKIN speaks.
ANAKIN: Don’t go.
PADME: I didn’t realize you were here.
ANAKIN: I wanted to see this island. You talked about it the other day.
PADME: You said you don’t like to swim.
ANAKIN points to where he beached the boat.
PADME: Oh.
She comes to his side and sits down in the grass.
PADME: I don’t remember it being this cold up here when I was young.
ANAKIN: Most planets feel cold to me. It took a long time after I left home to get used to that. Sometimes I miss Tatooine. I guess that seems weird to you…you saw my planet….
PADME: It’s normal to miss home, no matter where that is.
ANAKIN: I guess.
A silence. Away to the north, the surface of the lake is dotted with golden lights.
PADME: Anakin, I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you before.
ANAKIN: You were right. It’s time I stopped dreaming about you.
Something in his voice makes PADME look a bit sad. There is another silence. PADME points to the northern end of the lake.
PADME: Those lights, out there? Those are Gungan fishers. As it gets close to dawn, they come up from their cities, near the surface, to catch the lampfish that gather at the top of the lake. Now they’re moving back north and deeper into the water. They’ll get dimmer and dimmer until they’re all gone. Tomorrow they’ll do it again.
They watch the lights for a few moments.
ANAKIN: It’s beautiful. But…
PADME: But what?
ANAKIN: Why are three of those lights coming this way?
He points. Three of the golden lights are, indeed, moving toward them.
ANAKIN: Come on. Those aren’t Gungans.
They get up and run down to the boat. PADME jumps in while ANAKIN shoves it into the water and climbs in and starts to fumble with the engine.
PADME: I’m sure it’s nothing.
ANAKIN: That’s not what the Force is telling me.
He gets the engine started and points the nose of the boat back at the villa. They can now hear three ENGINES whining behind them.
ANAKIN: Do the Gungans use craft with engines to go fishing?
PADME: No.
The boat moves slowly across the water. ANAKIN looks back and sees three WATER SPEEDERS bearing down on them.
ANAKIN: We’re not going to make it back to the villa. Hold on.
He yanks the rudder and aims the boat right at the beach. Seconds later they run aground and ANAKIN and PADME leap out.
ANAKIN: Run!
But it’s too late. The speeders run aground around them, and the three ASSASSINS on them leap out onto the shore, firing blasters at their feet to stop them. ANAKIN and PADME come to a stop. They are surrounded by human ASSASSINS who level blasters at them.
ASSASSIN #1: You were hard to find, My Lady.
ANAKIN: Who are you? Who hired you to–
ASSASSIN #1: Shut up, Jedi. Your Council should have known better than to send a Youngling to do a man’s job. You couldn’t even remember to put on your lightsaber.
ANAKIN glances down at his belt. His lightsaber isn’t there. A look of intense anger is coming over his face.
ASSASSIN #1: You Jedi are getting worse and worse. “Guardians of Peace and Justice!” You can’t even stop the Republic from falling apart.
There is a sudden WHISTLING sound. Everyone turns to see ARTOO rolling out of the grass onto the rocky beach.
ASSASSIN #1: An astrodroid?
ANAKIN: He’s no astrodroid. Now, Artoo!
ARTOO snaps open one of his compartments and extends a probe that emits a crackling burst of electricity that SHOCKS one of the ASSASSINS, who leaps back in pain. In that instant, ANAKIN thrusts out his hand and uses the Force to RIP the blaster out of the ASSASSIN’s hand. The weapon flies to him, and he quickly blasts the first two ASSASSINS. Then he whirls about to face ASSASSIN #1, who has already grabbed PADME from behind and is holding his own weapon to her head. He is holding her by hair hair, pulled back tightly.
ASSASSIN #1: Ahh ahh, Jedi. That will be enough. Thanks for doing that, by the way. Now I don’t have to kill them myself.
PADME: Killing me won’t stop opposition to the Separatist movement.
ASSASSIN #1: Senator, what makes you think I care about your politics? This is just a job. Now, Jedi, you just stand there while I take the Senator away. I promise that when I kill her, I’ll make it fast and painless. She won’t feel a…a….
A strange look comes over the ASSASSIN’s face. ANAKIN is staring at him, hard, his jaw clenched. We hear the low RUMBLE of the Force being used. The ASSASSIN opens his mouth and his eyes grow wide. Suddenly he can’t breathe. He involuntarily releases PADME, who falls to the ground, and reaches for his throat, which is being constricted by something invisible. ANAKIN’s eyes are blazing with rage. The ASSASSIN is choking to death. With his dying gasp he lifts his blaster and tries to aim it, but ANAKIN Force-grabs it from his hand as well. The ASSASSIN falls to his knees, still clawing at his throat. PADME watches as ANAKIN comes forward and, standing over him, makes full eye contact with the ASSASSIN as he finally falls over dead. ANAKIN suddenly HOWLS with rage and kicks the corpse.
PADME: Anakin! Anakin, it’s over.
She rushes to his side and puts her hand on his shoulders, trying to calm him in his rage. Finally he snaps out of it, a little. He stumbles away and rubs his forehead as if what’s happened has caused him physical pain.
PADME: Anakin?
ANAKIN: That…didn’t feel…I’ve never done that before…using the Force shouldn’t feel like that….
Finally he looks at Padme, and gets some control over himself again.
ANAKIN: Pack your things, Senator. We can’t stay here.
PADME: I’ll talk to the Queen. There is a place in the mountains —
ANAKIN: No. Ask the Queen for a ship. We’re leaving Naboo.
PADME: (growing stubborn) Anakin, you can’t command me.
ANAKIN: I was charged with your protection, My Lady. Whoever wants you killed just found you, and they’ll find you again. I listened to you before and they almost murdered you at the secret place “you know very well”. We can not stay here.
PADME: Then where will we go?
ANAKIN thinks for a moment. He suddenly has another flash of memory from his dream: he sees SHMI again, smiling before being taken away. He looks at PADME.
ANAKIN: We’ll go to Tatooine. Can you get us a ship?
PADME is a bit taken aback at his intensity. She nods.
ANAKIN: Good. You’ll be safer there, My Lady.
He turns and starts walking back toward the villa, with ARTOO rolling along behind him.
ANAKIN: Artoo, don’t ever let me go anywhere without my lightsaber again.
ARTOO whistles. PADME glances one more time at the dead assassins on her family’s ancestral beach, and hastens to follow.
Another attack would have helped matter so much, I can’t fathom why George Lucas didn’t think of it. I think it would save the whole Naboo sequence of AOTC from feeling like the “Romancey” part of the movie; it would add some more tension and nuance to a part of the film that’s pretty tension-free; and it would start to move Anakin in our minds toward a more adult view. He’s not just a child or a teenager. By giving Padme a new way to start seeing Anakin, it would give us a new way to see him.
And of course, shouldn’t we see the first time Anakin uses the Force to strangle someone? His first hint of using the Dark Side of the Force? Why not?
That’s a good place to stop for now. Next time, we’re done with Naboo and we’re almost done with Kamino as well, which means we’ll go to Tatooine and to Geonosis. Stay tuned!
Share This Post
Wallowing in Negativity
SamuraiFrog did this one. A negative quiz! Yay!!!
Foods which disgust the crap out of me: Broccoli’s health benefits, coupled with the fact that it tastes like the essence of Satan distilled into a vomitous weed, offer proof that God has at least a wee bit of perversity inside him.
TV show I loathe: Anything on FOX “News”, particularly Glenn Beck, which I sometimes have to endure at the Y because I’ll get the exercise bike that’s in front of the teevee playing it. The man’s a stupid and deranged lunatic.
Movie I loathe: I could go on for some time on this (and probably have), but for now, let’s just say The Usual Suspects.
Music genres I loathe: I wouldn’t say I “loathe” any particular kind of music; there’s just music that is of little appeal to me. Rap, for example — I have no use for it at all.
Magazine which annoys me: Entertainment Weekly sometimes has some fun content, but its “Hipper than thou” tone and its critics in general make me want to open a vein when I read them. Lisa Schwarzbaum makes me want to vomit, she’s just so twee in her effort to anoint herself as the next Pauline Kael (whose writing never really rang my bell either, to be honest).
Makes me cranky at restaurant: When the server completely disappears when literally all there is left for me to do is pay the check. That bugs the crap out of me.
Makes me cranky in public: It’s pure luck of the draw, of course, but I’m always irritated when I arrive at the place where I’m buying coffee, and all I want is a medium coffee, and I get behind the person who orders the Double Caramel Latte With Extra Foam.
Makes me cranky in general: In Washington, “Bipartisanship” is defined as “Republicans getting what they want no matter what”. Also, gutless Democrats.
Pisses me off at home: For a long time, our apartment building had only three of eight units rented, and it was nice and quiet. Now they’re up to six of eight and it’s noisy and the people downstairs play crappy music and there’s often less hot water when I shower than I would like.
Pisses me off at work: People who assume that my tools are common property and that they therefore have a God-given right to borrow them at will, without even asking. Sometimes they’re mystified when they learn I take them home every weekend.
Pisses me off in general: Ayn Rand fans, Creationists, climate change denialists, and the New England Patriots.
Celebrity I hate: “Hate” is kind of strong, but Kirk Cameron is incredibly irritating.
Music artist I hate: Again, no “hating”, but most of today’s pop music leaves me cold.
I couldn’t care less about: the notion of “fashion”. It’s herd mentality nonsense.
Blogger’s habit that annoys you: Hmmmm…I’m generally happy with the blog, actually.
Feature on your blog you hate: I don’t hate anything about my blog.
Movie star you despise: Despising movie stars seems kind of out there…but I’m not much of a fan of Robert Pattinson.
Politician that you hate: Most, if not all, of the R’s, and some of the D’s.
Beverage you hate: TAB soda. Remember that stuff? It was the broccoli of the pop world!
Share This Post
Sentential Links #195
Linkage….
:: Oh Syfy, where would I be without your crappy movies about homes made of bones? Where would I be if you didn’t start all movies about haunted houses with some kid being forced to climb over a vine tangled iron fence to retrieve his Babe Ruth baseball before getting mangled by some evil house? THAT is just good writing, bitches. I see nothing wrong with going inside the door that the evil house has so generously opened for you. Nothing ever bad ever happens then, right? (One of my favorite blog finds in quite a while. This fellow produces an astonishing amount of content on a daily basis. He makes me look as though I have blogstipation. Yes, I just made that word up.)
:: I have long considered Caitlin Flanagan the most flagrantly stupid woman in print.
A rich woman who lives in one of Los Angeles’ most pretentious neighborhoods with a staff of many, yet has the blazing nerve to tell less well-off working wives that they ought to stay home with their kids, Flanagan is the Phyllis Schlafly of the Late Boomer set. She writes about domestic subjects in a reactionary rage so extreme that it often seems self-wounding. If the more politically correct moms in Flanagan’s neighborhood decided it was healthy for kids to be raised with pets, Flanagan would slaughter puppies on her front lawn just to prove them wrong.
:: I’ve been fuming for several days now, thinking I wanted to write a nice, long, expletive-filled, no-holds-barred rant about recent political developments. About cowardly, disarrayed Democrats who don’t have the conviction of their own ideals, and about a President I still basically like and respect, but who really needs to get it through his head that the other side ain’t going to play nice with him, like ever, and it’s time he drops the “cool and aloof” thing and actually leads his frickin’ party. A party that I continue to vote for because I really have no other choice — it’s not like a third-party candidate has a chance in hell of getting a national seat; Mr. Nader, I’m still pissed at you! — but which continually lets me down and embarrasses me. (Tell me about it. F*** the Republicans, f*** the David Broders of the world who wet themselves if something gets passed with zero Republican votes, and f*** the United States Senate which set this situation up by taking their sweet time because of their stupid traditions. Pass the damn bill. Now.)
All for this week.
Share This Post
Drew versus Peyton
I was right! And my final score picks were in the neighborhood, surprisingly enough. Huzzah!
I’m probably going to be rooting for the Colts, although a Saints win won’t bother me all that much if it happens. My general inclination is to pick the Colts on the basis of experience and the fact that the Saints combine awesome offense with a bend-but-don’t-break style of defense, which isn’t a combination that tends to serve teams well in the Super Bowl. (Just ask the Buffalo Bills.)
I didn’t watch the AFC Championship Game, figuring it would be the lesser of the two games (watched Attack of the Clones instead), but I watched most of the NFC Championship. For all the usual worship of Brett Favre, I thought he looked worse and worse as the game went on, which is usual for aging quarterbacks. His throws looked more and more forced, but even I thought that maybe he’d keep his unshakable faith in his own superhuman status under wraps by the time the Vikings had the ball in field goal range with the twenty seconds on the clock in a tied game. No dice; Favre made a move that is classic Favre, and not just from the NFC title game two years ago, either. He threw a pass that everybody on Planet Earth knew he shouldn’t even consider attempting, and it got intercepted. The Saints forced OT, and then drove for the winning field goal themselves. After the pick, Brett Favre never touched the ball again.
So now, the two weeks until the Super Bowl. Otherwise known as “Yawn Week” in the NFL. Not even the stunt of having the Pro Bowl next weekend can make this week interesting. But maybe we can get an early jump on the 2010 edition of “Will Favre play next year or not!”, which is always wild, whacky fun!
Share This Post
Sunday Burst of Weirdness
Oddities abound…but apparently not wherever I lurk online the past week, because I just didn’t have much weirdness out there in which to indulge. So I went to Neatorama and chose the thing that caught my eye the most, and here it is: The Weird Experiences of Seven Dead Bodies. Wow. Some of these stories are deliciously creepy — I’d already heard of the Pope whose corpse had been propped up to “stand trial” — but the actor who left his skull to the Royal Shakespeare Company so he could play Yorick? That’s hard core.
More next week. I hope.
Share This Post
In which I ensure a Jets-Vikings Super Bowl
My predictions are: Colts 31, Jets 13 and Saints 38, Vikings 24. I’ve been wrong a lot during this year’s playoffs, so I see no reason that should end. I’m conflicted on the Vikings, actually; I’ve always liked the team and a lot of my best friends, dating from my college years, are Vikings fans, so seeing them get a Super Bowl win would be nice. But Brett Favre’s annual offseason antics about whether or not he’s retiring and whether or not he wants to play and blah blah blah have soured me on Favre to the point that I don’t want to see him get another shot at a ring.
In terms of rooting interest in the Super Bowl, I’d love to see the Saints get a win…but I’d also like to see the Colts win it all, if only to shut up the Jason Whitlocks of the world who still insist that Peyton Manning is a choker, even if he’s already got a ring. So maybe Jets-Saints, so I could root for Drew Brees in peace…but I just don’t see the Jets winning today. Mark Sanchez has to remember he’s a rookie sometime, right?
Ach, screw it. I have no idea who’s going to win.
Share This Post
It’s National Pie Day!
January 23 is National Pie Day! Huzzah! Pie, whether open-faced or not, is one of the most wonderful and versatile of all food categories. Pies for main courses; pizzas; pot pies; fruit pies; cream pies; such a vast array of foods that fall into the category of “pie”. Yup, I love pie!
Here’s Nigella Lawson, making a quick chicken pot pie using puff pastry:
A few years ago — Heavens, I need to do this again — I made my own Chicago-style deep dish pizza. And yes, it’s a pie, not a casserole.
Here’s a wonderful video about Chicago-style pizza. Wait until you see the cooks at Gino’s East putting the sausage into the pizza:
Thinking about pie always makes me hungry, but it can also take one’s thoughts in a rather, shall we say, cosmic direction:
And then, of course, there’s a whole other galaxy of uses for pie:
So whether you celebrate National Pie Day by baking a pie, eating a pie, or getting hit in the face with a pie, Happy National Pie Day!
Share This Post
A Quiz on Writing
Steph hit me with this, and it’s pretty interesting, so:
1. What’s the last thing you wrote? What’s the first thing you wrote that you still have?
The last thing I finished? One of the two short stories I wrote last year. I don’t recall which came first, but I ran both on this blog (“Only Begotten Son” and “Partita for the End of the World”). As for the first thing I wrote that I still have? Ye Gods, let me look and see if it’s still here…yup, it is. The Star Wars fanfic I wrote in high school is still around. I really should burn that thing one of these years.
2. Write poetry?
Rarely, although I like to think I’m not awful at it.
3. Angsty poetry?
Well, gee whiz, what’s the point otherwise? I’m not entirely sure what counts as “angsty” poetry, but I do like my poetry to contain emotion. Actually, I like all of my art to contain emotion.
4. Favorite genre of writing?
It varies, really, but usually I’m either doing fantasy or horror. I’ve written exactly one story that would qualify as SF (the above-linked tale from last year). I’m writing a space opera now, but, like Star Wars, it’s really a fantasy set in space.
5. Most annoying character you’ve ever created?
My characters rarely annoy me. I always kind of like them, even the villains.
6. Best plot you’ve ever created?
Hmmmm. I rather like the plot of the space opera I’m writing now, actually. I’m not going to say anything about it, though.
7. Coolest plot twist you’ve ever created?
I like the little twist at the end of “Twelve Presidents”. It’s not really a twist, actually, but I like it.
8. How often do you get writer’s block?
Not often. More often is the general lack of enthusiasm for writing in the first place.
9. Write fan fiction?
I wrote Star Wars fanfic as a kid, in screenplay form. What I did was create new characters and put them through the basic Star Wars plot, with some changes along the way.
10. Do you type or write by hand?
I used to love writing longhand; now I mainly type. But longhand is enjoyable.
11. Do you save everything you write?
Yes, except for some stuff I wrote in my college years that is only saved on 3.5 inch diskettes in whatever file format the Macintosh was using in 1990. Yeah, I’ll never see those files again.
12. Do you ever go back to an abandoned idea?
Kind of, on occasion. I don’t so much resurrect an old idea as sometimes incorporate an old idea into something new. My current space opera project actually recycles a subplot I had in mind for one of my proto-Star Wars tales.
13. What’s your favorite thing you’ve ever written?
I honestly can’t name one. I tend to be overly impressed with the sound of my own writing.
14. What’s everyone else’s favorite story you’ve written?
Relatively few people have read anything I’ve written, with the exception of “Twelve Presidents”, so I guess that’s the answer here.
15. Ever written romance or angsty teen drama?
No teen drama, but I do include romance as an angle in most things I write.
16. What’s your favorite setting for your characters?
I’m not sure I have one. I have some settings I like — the Buffalo-like city of New Mowbray, Michigan, for one; the rural Appalachian town of Corley’s Crossing, Pennsylvania for others. Setting depends on story.
17. How many projects are you working on now?
Too friggin’ many, that’s what. I have: the space opera project, a story that takes place on the peripheries of the life of Jesus, a long-abandoned horror novel project that I’m trying to turn into a screenplay, a story about a maritally-troubled couple on a whitewater kayaking expedition in Alaska, and several essays I’ve started and abandoned. Oh yeah, and The Promised King is always lurking out there, waiting to strike me.
18. Have you ever won an award for your writing?
Unless winning the Buffalo News‘s short story contest two years ago counts, then no.
19. What are your five favorite words?
I couldn’t possibly name five favorite words, so here are five words I like: Misty, Golden, Ice, Byzantine, Calliope.
20. What character have you created that is most like yourself?
Hmmmm. Not sure, really. I don’t do roman a clef much, except for a screenplay I wrote as an exercise a year ago that is based on incidents from my life.
21. Where do you get your ideas for your characters?
My story ideas tend to suggest their own characters. I rarely create characters before the story idea comes to me; most of my tales have their genesis of the form “A person finds him or herself in this position….”
22. Do you favor happy endings?
I’m not sure, really. Bittersweet, I suppose — my endings are rarely completely happy or sad. Some are deeply sad, though.
23. Are you concerned with spelling and grammar as you write?
Somewhat. But not a whole lot. I tend to do well with spelling and grammar along the way, but when I edit, I tend to trap lots of passages that aren’t grammatically wrong but just awkward.
24. Does music help you write?
Immensely. I’ll listen to lots of things, but I find film music my general favorite kind of music for writing, since good film music tends to be inherently dramatic.
25. Quote something you’ve written. Whatever pops in your head.
OK, here’s the opening of the whitewater kayaking story I mentioned earlier — that is, here’s the opening of that story in its current incarnation.
The seaplane banked sharply as it came round the last of the mountains and then dropped toward the surface of the icy blue lake. Stephanie Cooper closed her eyes and dug her fingers into her thighs as her stomach struggled to right itself; her husband Eric leaned as far forward as he could, rubbed his temples, and swallowed again and again, trying to keep from throwing up by sheer force of will. Their pilot, a wiry woman named Rhoda, merely reached into the seat beside her and grabbed another triscuit.
“Almost down,” Rhoda called back.
“We’re almost down,” Stephanie said to Eric.
“I heard her the first time,” Eric quickly replied, as if his wife’s voice might distract him from his work of avoiding vomiting.
Stephanie turned her head away. She’d long since given up trying to figure out how a man like Eric, who paddled the harshest rapids like he owned them, could get airsick.
The cabin suddenly went dark as the plane dropped into the shadow of the deeply forested mountains that ringed Fire Moon Lake, and beyond those mountains rose even higher mountains where the forests gave way to peaks of ice that sired the glaciers that flowed, a foot or two per year, toward the Arctic Ocean. Someday those peaks would feel the bite of the chainsaws and the tread of the logging trucks, but not now, not yet. The Yukon still had places deep in its interior that were unsullied, and for now, this would still be the realm of the elk and the mountain goats and the bears and the wolves and the salmon.
Stephanie and Eric hadn’t come for the mountains or the glaciers, though. They’d come to meet Paul Sydon, the greatest river runner in the world or so it was said, who lived on the banks of Fire Moon Lake and who, once a year, would invite someone to follow him down the River Persephone.
This river was only runnable for about four weeks a year, when its banks were filled with just enough snowmelt to make for a river but not too much to turn that river into a hundred-mile-long raging torrent. It was such a remote and unknown river that it didn’t even appear on any known maps of the region. Maybe that was because it was only a river at all for less than half the year, or maybe there was another reason. Those who had run this river before spoke of the Persephone in hushed tones. To run it was to become a member of a secret society as exclusive as any, and this club required no knowledge of arcane rituals or secret handshakes. To ask directly to run the Persephone was to guarantee that one would never have the chance, and no one who had run it would ever discuss it with those who hadn’t. All a paddler could do was dream, and hope, that one day he might find a letter in the mailbox sent from this far-off place, a letter which read simply, “If you accept, I will guide you down the Persephone. We shall depart on the date written below. Paul Sydon.” Eric still had that letter, carefully folded and kept in a drawer at home. As proud as he was to have finally been invited to run the Persephone, it wouldn’t do to post the letter to the front of the fridge. All that was ever said was that the Persephone was the hardest river in the world, harder even than the streams of the Himalayas. And Eric had run a few of those already.
And there you have it!