FOOOOOOD!

This week, no, this month has really been about food for me. And my jeans told me too. That morning when the size 9's just don't want to make your ass look spectacular anymore. But, with that realization I got back on my couple years derailed slow food train. Except, not entirely slow food. It's a balanced approach! And when have I ever eaten weird low fat organic diet food? I don't...

So, these are the creations of note that are bouncing in my brain like giddy little children right now.

Naughty Naughty.

1 quart peeled garlic cloves

9 Habenero Peppers

2 Tbsp Onion Powder

12oz White Vinegar

1 tbsp Salt

1 tbsp Black Pepper

1 tbsp chili powder

Liquify and combine.

Don't Kiss the Crab!

Cream:

1 cup packed and minced cilantro

2 tbsp lemon juice

8 oz Sour Cream

1 tsp Cumin

1 tbsp minced garlic

Salt and Pepper to taste

COMBINE! In a bowl...

Cakes:

1/4 cup Mayo

3 cloves minced garlic

2 tbsp red pepper

2 large egg yolks

2 tbsp cilantro - minced

1 tbsp spicy mustard

1 tbsp lemon zest

1/4 tsp pepper

1 lb crab meat

1 1/2 cup bread crumbs

Combine! And Shape! And fry! I use these little round cookie cutters to form them and fry them in. They work perfectly! Don't use plastic ones. Common sense. I know it's a rare commodity.

Oil or butter or ghee for frying.

ROTI!

6 Tbsp West Indian Curry Powder

2 tbsp minced garlic

1/2 scotch bonnet pepper minced. (Use more or less depending on desired heat)

4 tbsp minced green onions

1/4 cup white vinegar

4 lbs goat meat

3 tbsp butter

3 tbsp veg oil

2 chopped tomatos

2 1/4 tsp salt

1/2 tsp black pepper

1 quart water

4 minced shallots

Combine curry, garlic, scotch bonnets, shallots, green onions and vinegar. Add meat and toss each piece with the seasoning. Cover and let sit in the fridge for 8-12 hours.

~~

Heat butter and oil in a dutch oven or other such pot. Add meat and brown. Add water, tomatos, salt and pepper and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and reduce the liquid to 1/8 and meat is tender. Add a cornstarch slurry or arrowroot to thicken remaining liquid.

~~

Roti Bread

1 1/2 cups flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 cup milk

1/2 cup olive oil

Combine all and mix well. Knead the dough for 1-2 minutes and wrap in plastic. Put in the fridge for a half hour.

~~

Divide dough into portions and roll out. Add filling and wrap. Add oil, butter or ghee to a frying pan and melt. Once wrapped, cook the roti in the pan. Viola!

Or you can cook the roti skins in the pan without the filling and then add later. I served it with fried plantains. Very nom.

Slow Food in the city of Toronto

Now, there is a BEST THING EVER that isn’t a misuse or a misconception in the English language, it is a little ideal called sustainable local organic agriculture aka the Slow Food Movement.  Slow food has been a growing movement within the world for quite some time now with books such as Michael Pollan’s “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” bringing the fight to the forefront by allowing us to participate the journey from the land to the plate.  Overall, in the past twenty years people have become more and more aware of what exactly we’re putting into our bodies and what we’re taking out by choosing such things as a vegan diet for anything other than a moral belief.  It’s not a surprise that many of the metropolotian papers in cities such as New York, Toronto, Montreal, Vancouver, San Francisco and Seattle we’re seeing a rise in the advancements of the “Urban Farmer.”

 

Just this week in NOW Toronto (www.nowtoronto.com)  the feature article is do it yourself gardening within the city.  It features not only ideas for urban gardening in your front yard, should you be lucky enough to have one, or even patio gardening for those of us who live in the many high rise buildings that populate Toronto’s landscape.  It offers ideas for not only recession proof agriculture in the (redundancy warning) urban gardening but how to use the free industrial spaces for an ever-growing green alternative that this country seems to embrace. 

 

I’m greeted with these ideas the same month that I picked up a new cookbook written by one of California’s top chefs from the East Bay Area, David Tanis of Chez Panisse fittingly titled “A Platter of Figs.” 

Misuse and Misconception in the English Language

The idea of tackling the Strange One as he adds cheese to an already incredible chicory salad I just made has to be up there on the list of things that could be considered the BEST THING EVER! (There’s more on the Chicory Salad to come.)

 

The term, “Best thing ever,” is a misconception and misuse of the English language that seems to dominate our everyday conversations in recent years.  Now, mind you, I like it only slightly better than groovy and light years more than hella, yet, I can be heard using it.  In my own defense, it’s a statement learned by osmosis. 

 

I have come to learn however that there are particular categories in the use of this term.  We aren’t talking about sex, drugs and rock n’ roll.  We’re talking about that child-like sense of awe in which we find things that for a single moment bring us an air of whimsy borne on a flight of fancy if you will allow me some clichés. We tend to re-live our childhood sense of awesome (not awe, that IS different) in these moments. 

 

Ironically, many of us under the age of thirty-five can list our best things ever in a variety of ways or even in form of a countdown, as Vh1 has so plagued us.  For instance, Jones Soda Strawberry Lime is the BEST SODA EVER! In n’ Out Burger is the BEST FAST FOOD EVER!

 

I think it honestly comes down to being the way that the minds of this generation 

Life Modeling

A little over two weeks ago, I did life modeling.  It was my first time.  There’s a certain energy about Ontario that is awakening adventurous aspects of myself that I never really recognized.  I feel good about myself and I figured, why not.  I didn’t think about it for very long when I was put on the spot by a friend of my former land lady’s. I merely agreed and went on with my day.  Later, I definitely dissected it into little bits of high school biology imagery. 

 

I would not have done if it were not for the tokes of green goodness that were ravaging my system. 

 

I arrived at the gallery in Peterborough that is nearly just across the street from where I used to love called, The Blue Tomato.  It’s a nifty little place with a lot of eccentric art work from local artists including a locally produced comic.  The lady who managed the place lead me downstairs so I could get into my robe before heading upstairs. 

 

I had no idea what I was expecting! And forgot to overthink the expectations as I changed in those few moments I was only hoping that cockroaches didn’t live in the basement of this place.  Finding a pre-historic visitor to my naughty little panties, not such an appealing thought!

 

I put in the back of my mind though.  I had gone upstairs.  There was only a dozen folks waiting for me, sitting in chairs that surrounded a stage.  A STAGE!  Heh. Heh. Heh.

 

Sidenote: I’ve never been on stage but once in my life.  Social anxiety.  It’s not a forgiving beast.  Okay, twice. New York Bartending is definitely a stage! This was to be my third time and you know that fear of being naked on a stage? Yeah. Hi.

 

I’m shaking! If I hadn’t been so stoned that I was worried I’d fall down the stairs if I were to bolt… there’d have been no evidence that I even existed in that place.  It would just be a blur of motion! But, I was stoned and naked and on this stage.  Three deep breaths and three hours of random poses.

 

I’d do it again.  In a heartbeat! The places my mind went were some of the most entertaining and erotic bits of imagery that I’ve shown myself in quite some time.  I think I wanted to literally run to Toronto to tackle the Strange One. 

Fuckin' Amazing.

Almeria 2008 from Vicente Sahuc on Vimeo.




This was borrowed from Thinking Fluidly. It's an incredible piece of work.

IGNITION CITY IS OUT!

On Procrastination, Ideas, and Rumors...

There's a bed bug infestation in the Strange One's apartment building. They were going to spray last week, but we had them put it off till this week. Now, it's 11:30pm and we have to pull all the furniture out from the walls, empty all clothing and linens from the apartment and be sure to clear off the counters. He's exhausted and we got a late start tonight overall. Partially of a plot I had concocted earlier, going out for sushi, and tackling some book stores. Not the best course of action. Albiet, a fun one for us both.

At dinner a rather odd statement was tossed my way. "I think I need to update my facebook."

My response is the usual, "Oh?"

To which he says, "Yes, there is a rumor going around that you and I may be a relationship."

Rumor or not, it was a fact that both of us had been dancing around and over-thinking and confusing ourselves because we tend to be rather good at that regardless of the situation. Needless to say, this is happening on a night in which my idea for a collective community of comic writers and artists took hold and had a sense of clarity. Enough to which I could write my proposal for work. I'm a bit proud of it.

"It is our goal to bring together the fibers that create the independent comic industry in order to weave the tapestry for a community that is dedicated to the fans and patrons of our growing industry. For too long we've grabbed at loose ends and whored ourselves to the machines that at times reward mediocrity and nurture the regurgatated ideas that form the classics of our industry. It is our goal at the Comic Collective to raise the standard as well as give once ignored or unheard voices a forum in which to showcase their arts in all forms. We hope to bring awareness to publishers, patrons, and old fans alike in our own personal journeys towards the creation of the tales that live in our minds. We seek to not just push the envelope, but draw out a new line.

Welcome to our sandbox."

My mission statement, of sorts. Here's to dreams becoming realities.

A Letter to my father...

This isn't edited. This isn't something that will be found anywhere but my blog and it's most likely not anything that will be seen on this site again. I don't know if my family reads my writings here, I don't know how many people who I know who actually read my writings here. But I need to write it. I need to write it in order to wake up tomorrow morning as something new.

Now if my older brother would get me a drink.

I used to write these letters to a father that didn't exist for a character that didn't exist anywhere except for in my mind. She was a daddies girl, never having known her mother. All my life I craved to be the center of my fathers universe. All my life I wanted nothing more than to make him proud and to accept me. To tell me to follow my dreams because I had a gift.

Instead I got my father.

This letter is for all the women, all the girls. Every female being that has daddy issues.

Dear Mark,

I can't call you Daddy anymore. Let alone Father. You are neither of those things to me. And you never can be. You made a choice when you left us. I don't ever want to hear that it was a choice you didn't want to make, you can never tell me that it was forced upon you. As I have made the same decision. When you choose to leave a life that you helped to create behind, you can't look back. You never look back. You have to hope that life will forgive you and seek for you in time, on their own volition. Not because it is what you want. Not because you could no longer live with it.

I don't know if you ever realized that or cared to realize that my first memory. The very first, is the day you left. Before then is only snippets, and those snippets consists of hearing the fights between you and my mother on the other side of the wall. They'd keep me awake at night. I'd curl into the fetal position under my bed and cry myself to sleep. I was so scared that you'd leave. And you did.

You walked out the front door, breaking my little pink doll's bed in two when you stepped on it. You couldn't move it out of your way. You just stepped on it. I wish my heart broke as cleanly as that stupid doll's bed. I wish my mothers heart broke that cleanly, or my brothers. You didn't think about that though. You never thought about us. Of course, if you were to tell the story, you thought about us every step of the way.

I'm more like you than you ever thought. And I didn't think about my son when I walked out of his life when he was five months old. I was too self-absorbed and only thought about myself. I know you did the same, you wanted the pain to go away. What pain though?

I can't call you and tell you how much I hate you, how angry I've been for twenty two years that it was me who took care of my younger borther when you left us so fucking poor that we learned new and amazing ways of making canned tuna. I've never told you how pissed I am that it's taken me most of my life this far to learn that someone can love me. That love isn't sex and that every man isn't going to throw me away.

Do you know this pain, Mark? Did you?

Did you ever care t realize that my fucked up ideas of home come from not knowing where I would live because you always told me as a child that everything was temporary until you'd come after me? Until I could come live with you? Did you?

I began smoking because everytime I got caught smoking at school, you'd come back into my life. Sure, it was just to yell at me. But you'd be there.

That was until I realized that the only times you'd come around were when I was in trouble. And if I wasn't getting into trouble, the way you talked to me, the way you questioned me, made me feel guilty. Nothing I did was good enough. My grades could always be higher, I could've gotten more promotions at work. And hell, I'd never make it as a writer.

Fuck you, Mark.

Did you ever read my writing?

Did you ever ask anyone what type of literary voice your child had?

And not just me, have you ever listened to your sons music? Read his lyrics?

Do you even know what our favorite colours are? What our dreams are?

No.

You don't.

You never did.

You loved the story of where I waited in the car while you went garage sailing, the day you met Marsha. How I stayed in the car because I was being an angsty teenager who wanted to sleep all day. What teenager isn't angsty? And what teenager doesn't sleep all day? Nevermind that was the last time I came to visit you of my own choice. After that visit I realized just how self-absorbed you were. That your kids had to fit into your world or you had no space for us at all.

We were always a part of your inner-competition. Your kids had to be more successfull that your friends kids. We couldn't be anything other than who we are. And we've never tried to be anything else. My daughter is too liberal, she's silly and naive. My son is useless. Do you know how many times I heard those words out of your fucking mouth?

Do you?

Your son is brilliantly intelligent. He has one of the most compassionate and giving hearts I've ever come across in my life. He is a fountain of talents that has to be nutured because he is delicate. He aims for approval and support. He never wanted to be anything more than himself. You pushed him into areas that he had no interest in and cursed him when he failed at it. The military? That was worst thing he ever could've done! And you pushed.

Me? You followed me to the ends of the States and beyond, you would try to buy my approval and used me when it was convient. You used me to come home with the one card you knew you could play. My grandfather. And now he's gone. You have no more cards to play. Instead you try to bring me back with emails of lies trying to validate the decisions that you made only to yourself as I chase after men who are just. Like. You.

Fuck you, Mark.

For the first time in my life, I am estastically happy, I'm on the road to having my dreams come true. I am on the verge of being successful according to my terms. I'm living in a place I can call home and I'm falling for a man who is more like my mother than anyone I've ever met. I don't care if he stays or leaves. And for once, I'm not scared. Force once I don't give two shits about your approval. And yet...

All I want to do is call you and say, "Daddy, look at me. I love you."

Fuck you, Mark.

Your daughter,

The Nunabutt.

Neil Gaiman Linkage

http://infinitecanvas.appjet.net/view?name=The%20Day%20the%20Saucers%20Came

Check it.

Couple Random Things...

I think I have an art for procrastinating. Maybe it's something that we all have. Then again, I should not be procrastinating. I have a long review of the Lucifer grahpic novel series to write, I need to go comic book shopping and manga shopping for the Triumvrate. Hell, I should toss a couple nostalgic video games in there. But alas! I am here. Waiting for a response to an email I sent out about maybe meeting with an artist who seems promising.

I should be doing so many other things...

The tangent for today is Grey Region Comics in Toronto, Ontario. (www.greyregion.com) I love them! I went into the shop yesterday for the first time trying to build a relationship with one shop so I don't have to walk all over downtown Toronto in order to make my writers happy. Or me for that matter. I found Grey Region. The owner is incredibly friendly and helpful regardless of the fact that he was babysitting his two children. Great selection, incredibly helpful.

My insomnia is also back and I need to stop procrastinating.

I had a dream last night that The Strange One asked me to learn how to run an SLA Industries game. Well, it wasn't a full dream and it was more like an interruption at 10 am this morning when I napped. I wonder how rue it is, I will have to ask him.

Oh, and it is he that I blame for keeping me up. He made my mind all blurry and I wrote a vast array of one track mindedness down. That looks to me like a bunch of insanity, until I realized I completely failed to dot any i's and cross any t's. Once that was done it all made sense.

Okay, on with the day. I swear.

Things I have to do.

- Grey Matter Comics.
- Write "Tales of an Expat Version 2." for Thinking Fluidly.
- Review the Lucifer graphic novel series after reading the last volume.
- Advertise for the Triumverate.

I should probably speak to the Gray Goddess as well. And take a new picture. She needs one.

I feel like I'm forgetting something.

TRUTH! ...as told by Warren Ellis

This is brilliant! I've been reading Freakangels which is an awesome series. But in the middle of one of his interludes we are given this:

How It Works

I still get asked with appalling regularity “where my ideas come from.”

Here’s the deal. I flood my poor ageing head with information. Any information. Lots of it. And I let it all slosh around in the back of my brain, in the part normal people use for remembering bills, thinking about sex and making appointments to wash the dishes.

Eventually, you get a critical mass of information. Datum 1 plugs into Datum 2 which connects to Datum 3 and Data 4 and 5 stick to it and you’ve got a chain reaction. A bunch of stuff knits together and lights up and you’ve got what’s called “an idea”.

And for that brief moment where it’s all flaring and welding together, you are Holy. You can’t be touched. Something impossible and brilliant has happened and suddenly you understand what it would be like if Einstein’s brain was placed into the body of a young tyrannosaur, stuffed full of amphetamines and suffused with Sex Radiation.

That is what has happened to me tonight. I am beaming Sex Rays across the world and my brain is all lit up with Holy Fire. If I felt like it, I could shag a million nuns and destroy their faith in Christ.

From my chair.

See, this is the good bit about writing. It’s what keeps you going. It’s the wild rush of “shit, did I think of that?” with all kinds of weird chemicals shunting around your brain and ideas and images and moments and storyforms all opening up snapsnapsnap in your mind, a mass of new and unrealised possibilities.

It’s ten past two in the morning, and I’m completely wired, caught up in the new thing, shivering and laughing and glowing in the dark. Just as well it’s the middle of the night. No-one would be safe from me right now. I could read their minds and take over their heartbeats with a glare.

Faster than the speed of anyone.

That’s how it works.

-Warren Ellis

Is there more truth than that about writing?

The Ciopinno Post

I'm supposed to be working today. Supposed to be is the key words here in this statement. Instead, my mind is elsewhere to later occurences in the day that have not happened yet. Why? Because the Strange One is coming to town. And with him I am promised answers. Or at least a ride to Toronto in which case, I can get more work done that I have not thought of doing yet today... then again, I can't do it here. I have to go to the city.

But really. I'm in this mood, this giddy on the verge of anxious because the Strange One is coming to town. I haven't felt this way since I was little girl on Christmas Eve, not waiting for Santa, but waiting for the flock of family that could come crawling up the drive way at two o' clock in the afternoon to eat cioppino.

**Tangent**

Cioppino is a California Italian-American creation. Right out of the San Francisco Bay Area. There's a story about Italian American fisherman and how they'd chip in the sea's daily harvest to create a banquet for friends, family and each other. Being a native Californian from an Italian American family, yea... Cioppino. It's what's for dinner.

Cioppino According to Nunabutt

Garlic - Yes, it's the number one ingredient for a reason. Use as much or as little as you like. I love Garlic, we have a special relationship. So, with the amount I use any Vampires I hang out with are screwed.
1/4 cup Olive Oil
8 Oil Cured Anchovies - It'll say on the package.
2 Bay Leaves
1/2 cup diced Celery - If you don't know a dice is a little tiny chop. Itsy bitsy cubes. And if you've never taken a culinary knife skills class, be thankfull. I never used to add celery into my Cioppino, but it was recommended by the Strange One and the idea of a mirapoix is not a bad one.
1/2 cup diced Carrot
1 large Onion, diced
1 Red Bell Pepper, diced - Please do not try to substitute red with yellow, orange or green. It doesn't work. Trust me.
1 cup Red Wine
1 pint Vegtable Stock
1 pint Clam Juice
28oz can of Diced Tomatoes - Unseasoned, please.
1/2 cup Fresh Basil ciffonade - A ciffonade is a simple cut if you don't know how to do it already. Take the basil leaves you want to use and stack them flat on top of each other big to small. Once that is done roll the stack as if you're rolling a blunt. If you don't know how to roll a blunt, don't worry, just roll. Once that is done, julianne or thinly slice the tube of leaves.
Tabasco - Use to taste.
Worchestshire Sauce - Use to taste.
1/4 cup Fresh Parsley
2-3 tsp Lemon Juice

Dry Seasonings - Salt, pepper, oregano, rosemary, fennel. I've only ever used the salt pepper, but it's your kitchen. My recipe is only a guidline.

1/2lb Shrimp
24 Mussels
Crab Legs
1/2lb Scallops
1lb White Fish
16 Fresh Clams
8 Oysters
1 Lobstar Tail or Claws

**With the seafood, this is everything I've ever put into it. At one time, it's a pricey but exquisite adventure. Feel free to jumble the seafood at your convience and budget.

Sourdough Bread FRESH!

The how to:

Heat the olive oil in a large pot. Add in the garlic and onions until they are just beginning to seat, then add in the carrots, celery and red bell. After sweating those together a good minute or two, add in the red wine and let simmer for 5 minutes. Then add in the veggie stock, clam juice, tomatoes and dry herbs EXCEPT the salt and pepper. Add in seafood (uncooked), lemon juice, tabasco and worchestershire sause and cover. Stir occasionally but let cook covered for 30 minutes. Serve hot with warm sourdough bread, fresh lemon wedge, tabasco and the fresh parsley and basil for garnish.



One helluva tangent that has made me momentarily lose my place and need to decide where to go. Ah. Right, it was meant to do that. I've worked myself to that place of a calm mind, albiet a slightly stoned mind. The work has to be done immediately is done. And I've somehow come up with a new random bit of what ever the hell I'm blogging....

"Nunabutt, the internal monolugues. Act one scene five."

I NEED OTAKU!

I really do!

I'm looking for freelance writers to review, blog... write a column, report all in our realms of geekdom. Comic Reviewers, Gaming Craft and Broken Pocky are in need of writers. Check it out from the desk of the CRC:

"Getting review material is easy. Comicreviewers.com will supply you with prepurchased materials that you can request or you can pick up the comics you want locally and with authorization be reimbursed for it's purchase price once a review is posted. Reviewers are expected to follow our general format for reviews which now include a synopsis (with spoiler warnings where applicable), production quality review, and then your opinion. This ensures a robust and thorough review of all comics and gives you the freedom to say whatever you want about what you've read, good or bad. Genres are chosen by the individual reviewer and with the ID and private email you are given for the Comicreviewers.com website, you can post your review whenever you want to, be it 1 in the afternoon or 3 in the morning.

Writing reviews is a great way for student journalists and English lit students to add versatility to their resumes and extra curricular activities list.

Serious inquiries only. You will be required to share limited information with the head editor and be able to be reached by IM or phone on a regular basis for updates and notices. "

Except it goes for all three websites...

Keanu Reeves?! Really...

This morning when I awoke I was struck with irony. Not immediately, but as I sat down to start my day before making my trip home from a tangent in Toronto. A friend back in New York City had sent me a link, I am both reviled and intrigued by this link. It is telling me that because of the believed success that the Dragonball movie has to have, Fox Studios is looking to make a live action Cowboy Bebop. In what I'm guessing is an attempt to compete with Warner Brothers and Columbia House in their successful run with Marvel and DC titles; Fox has decided to get their feet wet with bringing anime to life. Death Note transitioned successfully. Why can't other titles?



This question is answered easily, you don't start with the worst when your studio hasn't been accumulating a reputation for quality. In turn, you don't jump to one of the best.

According to "The Hollywood Reporter" Fox Studios has acquired the rights to film Cowboy Bebop. Shinchiro Watanabe, the series creator and collective genius behind the culture of Bebop, is to serve as an associate producer alongside Kenji Uchida, Sunrise President.

Frightfully, Peter Craig is scheduled to write the script. This is an unknown with a cult classic animated series in his hands. I would prefer if Shinchiro Watanabe were to write the screenplay himself, but if the need for an American Writer is dire, please Joss, please? Your care with "Firefly" has lead me to believe that you're the only english speaking writer who could handle such a thing. Well, you and Kevin Smith, but great New Jersey icon is my answer to everything.

What has me screaming sacrilge as a Cowboy Bebop fan is the signing of Keanu Reeves as Spike Speigal.

What.

The.

Frak.

http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/hr/content_display/film/news/e3i4b7a99706a1f6a07e7120ead30352504

How does Keanu Reeves even slightly tempt the tiniest recognition of being Spike Spiegal? Sometimes, there's a little voice inside my head that wonders what crack these casting people/directors/writers smoke before they choose these people? A little research into the anime/Bebop fandom forums and you'll find hundreds of recommendations. Keanu Reeves will not be one of them.

Being a Bebop fanatic, I've had this movie cast in my head for years. Or somewhat cast. Personally, this is what I think Fox should do, this would make me giddy and most likely live in the theater.

Spike Speigal should be played by Benicio Del Toro. (Really.) The husky voice, his hair, his build. Just the onscreen sex appeal and panache of both the actor and the character.


Jett Black should be played by, brace for it... Mickey Rourke. And no, I'm not really kidding. I'm a fan. He really made me believe in Frank Miller's Sin City. Again, we find a gritty voice in an actor that is chiseled by something other than a few classes. The build, the fatherly tone he can take in his style and body language.





Faye Valentine might be consideribly tricky to cast. She's not too complex a character on the surface. Just really needs to be a woman that is both in incredible shape, lanky, and have a certain whine to her voice at times that is unable to completely shred like nails on chalkboard. Nevermind the fact that she would have to believablely pull off that honky tonk attitude and charm. So, I'm throwing this one out of left field, Brittany Murphy. I'm not a fan, but I think she'd fill out the role of Faye Valentine in much of the same way that Jim Morrison filled out black leather pants. Perfection.







I realize now that at this point, I'm looking at a proposal of Sin City veterans. Unfortunately, there is no one from Sin City to be able to tackle the role of Edward. I'm left wondering if there is anyone at all who can. Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky IV is an interesting character to put it very lightly. Youth, vitality, spontenaity. Considering the mannerisms and the fact the feeding a child actor high doses of mind altering hallucienojenic drugs is highly illegal, I highly recommend looking into CGI.

Super hacker braincase dog, would be a challenging role for any pup. Except maybe a Welsh Corgi. Though, if Fox Studios manages to cast Ein as a german shepard, I will not be surprised.



Viscious. One of the more mysterious characters to ever grace the series and one of the stories that would most likely explode if ever told in detail. I've seen recommendations for Rodrigo Santoro to take up the shawl of Viscious to run in conflict with Spike in a live action reproduction and I can't help but to agree at this point. With his aquiline features and lanky figure, he would show a form of grace that is imparitive to the character of Viscious.



Last, we have Julia. She is the contrast of this series. The piece that it all revolves around yet, the most mysterious detail of it all. In the series she was only a flicker in random flashbacks that was not fully touched upoun until the final two episodes. Yet, she remained engraved in out memories. The beauty of Julia is eternal. She lingers in your memory like that bright spot on the wrong end of a migraine. Julia. As played by Daryl Hannah, maybe? I don't think I could think of anything sexier.



And Fox Studios. Let Watanabe Direct. Or allow him to choose the visionary who can properly capture this. You're playing with a cult following. Its fire.

I'm frightened, yet unexplainably excited about the prospect of the live action film. Just be wary of where you tread and who you cast. It's very easy to take something exceptionally brilliant and ruin it.

A New Hope

Thursday Night:

It's 2 O'clock in the morning and I'm sitting here at my computer, knowing that tomorrow I have a lot to do before the weekend begins. But it's 2 O'clock in the morning and the world will wait for me. I'm currently debating the benefits I would have to going downstairs and heating up some dinner in the oven. Questions of sound pollution and scent come into mind when there is five other people who live in the same house. And yes, this is a big house. We're not sardine-canned in here.

I've been up writing guidlines and goals, directions for these websites that I edit. I've never done anything like this and I'm excited. Like everything else in the past month, it seems to fit together. Somehow there is a puzzle coming together that I've spent my life tracking down the pieces of.

One month ago, December 22, 2008 I woke up in a small bedroom of a small apartment that I shared with my roommate and good friend, Amy the Red. I was waking up in New York City. I was waking up broken. I had let the city eat me alive. I walked out of one job when I had everything to lose and into another one. I sold my electronics to make rent and buy groceries. I should've asked for help and I've been told that a hundred times since. At the time, there was something more important. Something I was ready to give my life to prove. That I could make it in New York City. And I did in the last weeks of December. I crawled out of my hole. I stood proudly in my platform boots and said, "Neener, neener fucking neener."

I also took the money I had put aside for a new computer and spent it on a ridiculous trip. I had to come say goodbye to a group of people I had come to love as family. I was done.

Twenty-Four days ago, I landed in Toronto, Ontario. I knew something was different at that moment. It wasn't like I was getting off a plane in a foreign country. It was like I was coming home. Twenty-four days ago, I found where I am meant to be.

It seems like a lifetime has passed me by and that I've been given another chance. Or my first chance, depending on how you want to look at it.

To me this is all so very ironic, almost drastic. A month ago, I was done. And now, now... I have too much left to do. Too much left to still give. Tonight I'm writing these guidlines. I'm also putting together the folder of files that need to be published for the various sites I write for, including this which will wind up in my personal blog. And I still haven't began the first half of my Lucifer review. Let alone, read the new graphic novel I picked up almost a week ago.

I'm driven again. I have a place and a balance.

I have a rock. And a shoulder. And a ....question.

But I have balance, so the question can wait. There's no trying to make sure that the mask I wore didn't get too heavy. I'm incapable of hiding the bits of insanity I have anymore. I'm inspired to speak what is in my mind regardless of how insane it sometimes can sound.

I could really be going insane for the sake of convience. But then again, that would be such irony. To say that I've never felt so sane yet, gone insane. I'm sure it's happened before...

Point being, there is a center. The gut tells me, I will be okay. For the first time in my life, I'm not about to question it. I've never been so happy.

Friday Morning:

Well, the Lady Slumber found me before I was finished with this and the work I needed to have done today. And thus the game of catch up begins. I need to remember on top of it all to dress up tomorrow to have some pictures taken that can go with my introductions to the websites.

For now the work… the tasks for today. Post this, write three introductions, post to thinking fluidly on a topic I still haven’t decided upon. Start brainstorming ideas for three separate weekly columns and three weekly blogs. And that’s all with forgetting my need to track down the latest news to report for comic reviewers and gaming craft.

Welcome. You know, work is more fun without responsibility. Too bad I'm loving this.

Of Lucifer And The Strange One

"I'm oblivious." It was a statement that came out of what some may call blue. "Sometimes. Well, most of the time." Came an even quicker defense of the statement, I was stumbling quickly over the words I had carefully formed in my head. It's a bit of a nervous habit, taking time to think out phrases and contexts long before I say them. I let them build up until I'm absolutly sure I'm prepared for the consequences. These thought out bursts of monologue quickly become awkard when I begin to stumble.

"Johnny Cash, forty-two or twelve?" He asked me, trying to help settle me with a bit of laughter. I failed to laugh but was successful in smiling.

"Forty-two." I answered, taking a deep breath in order to build the last bit of courage I needed to utter the words. "Look...this is weird. And I've probably over thought it. Cause, I overthink everything and that's a tangent. Yeah, I'm attracted to you. And it makes me nervous to say anything because I asked you to marry me to help me with citizenship and..." I took another deep breath, I was letting the waves of anxiety rush over me as I spoke. I needed to calm myself again but the butterflies in my stomach forbade it. "That's not it. I'm attracted to you. It distracts me and makes me blush. I can't focus sometimes because I just want to know if there is chemistry."

The amused look on his face intrigued me, scared me a little. Almost. But I continued on. I had come this far. "Nevermind that I need to read these books for work and this would be much smoother if we could just get this out of the way."

He chuckled. Chuckled and looked as if he were considering his own words, or pausing pensively for the dramatic effect. Of course. "Well." He began slowly, that eternally mischievous grin forming under his goatee. "It was my plan to come over there with you as I am attracted to you as well." That smile. It always glowed.

~~~~~~~~~

I have butterflies in my stomach again. It's getting to be surreal and somewhat reassuring, although I can't recall in the least when this has ever happened to me in the past. The only time they go away is when I am with the Strange One. This is making me nervous, giddy... excited and anxious. Why? Because I don't know what it all is!

Hi, I'm Nunabutt. We just met a post ago, when I started this blog. Or maybe, we met in another life which in some circles could also be another website. I write for four sites. Comic Reviewers, Gaming Craft, Broken Pocky and Thinking Fluidly. You can find those links somewhere on this page. I am also an American expatriate beginning to try for citizenship in a new country. I'm a writer, a chef, a sommelier, a bartender, a ditz, an anarchist, a disillusioned catholic... different titles for different days. Today I think the discription of writer, pot head, ditz are the fitting ones. Espicially if I add professional onto ditz and then we'll call it a rambling thought. Back onto topic...

Forming of the topic that is.

The butterflies in my stomach.

I'm trying to read through the eleven volume collection of "Lucifer" at a friends house. For a completed series, I find it ridiculous to review one little snippet ontop of the other when a series should be viewed upon as a whole unless the writer changes. But that's a discussion for another time. I've gotten seven issues into the series with five volumes to go and I'm going through these periods of not being able to focus at all on the task at hand. The Strange One distracts me. Sometimes he means to, undoubtably and others it's just his presence. It's this screaming attraction to him when we met for the first time that smacks me across the face and forces me to pay attention.

But, the fact remains that the butterflies in my stomach won't go away.

It could always be that this batch of pot makes me overly pensive. And yes, I'll admit, I'm a pothead. Sometimes it calms my brain down and allows me to focus on these thoughts that I'm somehow molding into internal monologues. Some of these are one sided conversations that should be held with the person they are focused towards. Most of the times they are forgotten. Just happy to state such facts to myself is reward enough. Not this time though. I'm too confused in these regarding the Strange One. And this is new for me.

Normally people are somewhat easy to read, even for someone as oblivious as myself. The Strange One is a wall. Solid and unreadable. Well, not entirely, just enough so that things are confusing as fish swimming in opposite directions. I don't do well with patience, confusion and curiosity. And at this point all three are running rampant through my brain making even a shiney moment near impossible. A part of me needs to know the intention or the direction of the meeting between the Odd and the Strange. Though I need to straighten out my own thought process. What is the story of this?

Will it read like Terry Pratchett? Explode in your mind like Terry Gilliam? Or will it play back like a View Askew production?

Speaking of View Askew, I do need to remember to see Zack and Miri Make a Porno. Yes, there was your shiney moment.

And on the Seventh Day...

I have done it. I think it was something I should've done long ago, but at some points I forget what was then and how it might wind up being what is now. And yes, that is a dizzy line of thought.

Welcome to my corner of the internet. And the fact of it being my corner is a debatable subject as I could be seen to have many corners. I might need a real estate license in the future. Enough with the circles and on with the show.

I am Nunabutt. You can find me in little alcoves under the stairs. Or writing with impassioned haste on any form of mass transit. Maybe even your couch if you're not careful. And yes, I tend to write first rather than type. There is something about the way that my handwriting looks scrawled out on white chunks of paper. Or that the ink stains on my fingers tend to accentuate the length of my hands.

I'm not too sure. I am sure that I learned the answer isn't always 42. I've been proven correct on this. Once. And only once, but that's another tale for another day that'll prolly never happen. Or maybe it will... but not in this post.

I'm not going to tell you what to expect as I don't know what to expect even for myself. Some days you might get snippets of fiction, a rant on the excess of deja vu or even my strange thoughts on the stumblings of Justice Roberts during the inauguration. In the end, this is my blog and it may just be wonky.

Welcome to the world of Nunabutt; comic reviewer, anime critic, gaming fairy, and well... any other tagline I add to myself on any given day. Warning to the cautious though, be wary of what you may find here. It might not make sense all the time.