anything you can do i can do meta– phorically

Someone I was in the presence of the other day made the off-hand remark that writers use too many metaphors. So, let’s ignore all possible explanations for why I was in the presence of anyone who could possibly drop that aphoristic gem into a normal conversation, and focus on the exact magnitude of the statement made. Too many metaphors? I’m sorry, peach, but metaphors are the spice of life – from the most boring (like that, the ironically bland usage of the word ‘spice’), to those metaphors so complex they can only be described as literary cunnilingus. See? Another metaphor. A saucy one, too. Metaphors… pah! Let’s see how mastubatory we can get with metaphors. Let’s meta the SHIT outta them. You’ve heard of trillions of things being metaphors for a trillion other things. Especially life. Fucking “life”. Everything’s a metaphor for life. But that’s the beauty of language. That’s why some of us get up in the morning. Especially us English majors and artist types.

Ponder this:

Please explain that in 300 words or less.

*issues insane demands*

Since officially relegating My Funny Valentine to the ‘done’ drawer of my mental filing cabinet, I’ve got my metaphorical “shit” together and am ready to start writing again. For the past eight months, I’ve done naught but scroll miscellaneous scribbles in the margins of notebooks; ideas that have stayed just that… miserably pencilled in my journal between to-do lists and how-to references. I have a lot of momentum behind me, and as such, I quoth to thee the proverbial snowball rolling down a hill. The momentum continually picks up, but there’s always the queasy feeling that you’re still going downhill at an alarming rate, am I right?

Anticipating this, about a month ago I dug out a small notepad labelled “Great Ideas” that my well-intentioned (or naively optimistic) mother stuffed in my stocking last Christmas. I’ve made it part of my routine, somewhere between the first and fortieth cup of tea, to write down at least one new logline or story idea. It’s been marvellously beneficial, as I’ve spent the last couple of years living past glories and grinding the only few decent ideas I’ve ever had into the ground. New ideas are nice.

I’m currently in the draft stage of several shorts, and I’ve forced myself to revisit those old notebooks and scribbled margin-trolls to organize my larger ideas. If I could possibly summarize my last eight months of higher education into one little logline, it would be “Organization and structure make movies.” With that firmly cemented into the appropriate parts of my grey matter, I got my aforementioned shit together. Each feature or novel is in a neatly labelled bin – and I mean ‘neatly.’ My craftsmanship with a Sharpie is remarkable. All notes, all concept drawings, all inspirational photos or song lyrics, all research – is dumped into that bin. Each bin is accompanied by his or her (gender pending) mate: a bulletin board. With title, logline, central question, and inspirational phrases scrawls around the frame, these bulletin boards have Post-its marking out the scenes and plot points.

I have eight bin/board partnerships. Eight movies/novels. Well, seven movies and one novel.

I’m going to be writing for years.


But at least I’m organized.

tell me about your corndog

There are reasons why Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure is one of my most favourite movies ever. Sure, it’s the cinematic equivalent of the least genetically blessed lovechild of a dimestore novel and everything terrible about the eighties, but it holds a certain je ne sais quoi. I literally Do. Not. Know. What.

A few possibilities echo through my mind, metacortexually (yes, it’s a word I just made up, but go with it):

*I really want to see a spin-off sitcom with Billy the Kid and Socrates as roommates a la the Odd Couple.
*I love how two ridiculously stupid stoner kids can throw out such eloquent verbiage as: “Strange things are afoot at the Circle K.”
*I think they really, really, really – and I mean, really – nailed Napoleon’s character, especially with how he cheats at bowling.

Thanks to Janin for getting the above image for me after I fruitlessly scoured all that Google images could barf up yesterday. You rule.


For reasons I really, really don’t want to explain to the vastness of the internet, we have a lot of Archie comics in our house. They get shuffled around from room to room, dog-eared, chucked about; we love them but we don’t respect them, like a racist old relative.

Anyway, I found this single page on the floor in the living room. No one will admit to ripping it out or even to reading it before. Who knows. But it’s awesome.


langara college film arts unlock the vault

Come one, come all to Unlock the Vault, the night we unleash our final project films upon the world!

7 pm on August 20 at Langara College (100 W 49th, Vancouver)

My little labour of love, My Funny Valentine (ecrit par Robyn Thomas, realise par moi) will be closing the night, following:

Sparrow, written by Robyn Thomas, directed by Kaitlyn Reid
Zeldon’s Excursion, written & directed by Liz Bailey
Missing Link, written by Erik Hoffman, directed by Jordie Keith
Puppet Magic!, written by Lauren Richardson, directed by Michael Goyert
Junk TV, written by Shayan Bayat, directed by Anna Larrina
Next Door, written by Shayan Bayat, directed by Doug Ferguson
Identity Thief, written & directed by Mitchell Politeski

Come and check it out, we’re proud little parents of our cinematic offspring.