[NON BLOG] Meeting up with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
heraclitus
Sep. 27th, 2004 06:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rfmcdonaldBrief synopsis:
I went out withheraclitus to see Shaun of the Dead, later heading in the direction of Church-Wellesley for drinks where we talked about sexual desire and I consoled him about a relationship's end, followed by sundry misadventures which left me panting even as I boarded the westbound streetcar at a quarter past two.
There. That's much more salacious than what actually happened, and yet I'm telling the truth. It's interesting how selective reporting can bias perceptions of reality, isn't it?
Now, what really happened.
* * *
As I mentioned previously,serod and I missed meeting up with heraclitus owing to unavoidable communications problems. heraclitus phoned me up in the middle of the Counterfactual Threats Assessment Group meeting Sunday afternoon, and we arranged to meet at the Bay-Bloor Cineplex Odeon to catch Shaun of the Dead, a rom-zom-com movie that has gotten rave reviews in the Torontonian press.
Yes, this time I got popcorn with actual butter.
Shaun of the Dead is a good movie. I won't say surprisingly good, since it's the sort of postmodern fusion (the aforementioned mixture of romantic comedy with zombie horror flicks, along with fairly typical critical social commentary) that works well these days with audiences. It works on multiple levels, as a film showcasing Shaun's efforts to prove he's worthy of Liz's trust and his conflictual relationship with his mother and stepfather, as a horror film filled with plenty of gore, as a satire on the obliviousness of most people to what's going on in the background. One thing to watch out for: Duran Duran's cover of "White Lines." I'd recommend it, though people with a low tolerance for gore should beware.
When the film ended just after 11 o'clock, we rambled down towards Church-Wellesley with the vague intent of stopping by one ofheraclitus' friends, but we decided to cut it short and stop off at the Village Green for a couple of pitchers of beer. A variety of topics were discussed over a conversation fuelled by alcohol late into the night, including our work experiences of late, the writings of Robert Greene on the dynamics of power and seduction, various alternate histories and family backgrounds, the applicability of the secularization thesis (and with this question, wondering just what the hell the United States is doing with patterns of religious belief and practice more like Pakistan's than Canada's), and the gruesomely entertaining state of the world.
We intended to catch the last southbound subway to our respective destinations at Wellesley, just across the street. After we got inside the station, me swiping my MetroPass andheraclitus paying his fare, we found out that the last southbound subway had went rather earlier in the night. We decided to head down Yonge Street to our respective destinations instead, and continued the night's conversation for a while longer.
Just as we got to the intersection of Yonge and Queen, I saw the streetcar coming. I didn't want to miss it, since the next one wouldn't arrive for another couple dozen minutes, so I bid adieu and raced west towards the nearest stop, waving as the streetcar inevitably caught up. I was despairing of catching it, but at the western edge of Nathan Phillips Square the streetcar slowed down to a stop. Boarding, I blessed the driver and his children; he replied by saying that he had to take pity on anyone running that quickly.
I went out with
heraclitus to see Shaun of the Dead, later heading in the direction of Church-Wellesley for drinks where we talked about sexual desire and I consoled him about a relationship's end, followed by sundry misadventures which left me panting even as I boarded the westbound streetcar at a quarter past two.There. That's much more salacious than what actually happened, and yet I'm telling the truth. It's interesting how selective reporting can bias perceptions of reality, isn't it?
Now, what really happened.
* * *
As I mentioned previously,
serod and I missed meeting up with heraclitus owing to unavoidable communications problems. heraclitus phoned me up in the middle of the Counterfactual Threats Assessment Group meeting Sunday afternoon, and we arranged to meet at the Bay-Bloor Cineplex Odeon to catch Shaun of the Dead, a rom-zom-com movie that has gotten rave reviews in the Torontonian press. Yes, this time I got popcorn with actual butter.
Shaun of the Dead is a good movie. I won't say surprisingly good, since it's the sort of postmodern fusion (the aforementioned mixture of romantic comedy with zombie horror flicks, along with fairly typical critical social commentary) that works well these days with audiences. It works on multiple levels, as a film showcasing Shaun's efforts to prove he's worthy of Liz's trust and his conflictual relationship with his mother and stepfather, as a horror film filled with plenty of gore, as a satire on the obliviousness of most people to what's going on in the background. One thing to watch out for: Duran Duran's cover of "White Lines." I'd recommend it, though people with a low tolerance for gore should beware.
When the film ended just after 11 o'clock, we rambled down towards Church-Wellesley with the vague intent of stopping by one of
heraclitus' friends, but we decided to cut it short and stop off at the Village Green for a couple of pitchers of beer. A variety of topics were discussed over a conversation fuelled by alcohol late into the night, including our work experiences of late, the writings of Robert Greene on the dynamics of power and seduction, various alternate histories and family backgrounds, the applicability of the secularization thesis (and with this question, wondering just what the hell the United States is doing with patterns of religious belief and practice more like Pakistan's than Canada's), and the gruesomely entertaining state of the world.We intended to catch the last southbound subway to our respective destinations at Wellesley, just across the street. After we got inside the station, me swiping my MetroPass and
heraclitus paying his fare, we found out that the last southbound subway had went rather earlier in the night. We decided to head down Yonge Street to our respective destinations instead, and continued the night's conversation for a while longer.Just as we got to the intersection of Yonge and Queen, I saw the streetcar coming. I didn't want to miss it, since the next one wouldn't arrive for another couple dozen minutes, so I bid adieu and raced west towards the nearest stop, waving as the streetcar inevitably caught up. I was despairing of catching it, but at the western edge of Nathan Phillips Square the streetcar slowed down to a stop. Boarding, I blessed the driver and his children; he replied by saying that he had to take pity on anyone running that quickly.
