A stunning revelation.

All right, my subconscious and I usually get along pretty well. I trust him, and he's honest with me. We don't talk much, but we know the other's routine well enough to compensate for it. We're like roommates that communicate only through notes on the fridge:

"Aqua: Really appreciated that impulse purchase yesterday. It's a great shirt. Thanks! -Denton"

"Dent: Glad you liked it! I'll be out hunting story ideas for a day or two -- let me know what you thought of "Stardust" when I get back. -Aquadeo"

(So what if I named my subconscious after my Internet handle? I had to name it something, and "LukeDuke76" was taken.)

Anyway, I think I might have to have a man-to-superman discussion with Aquadeo tonight. And it's not because he keeps eating my breakfast cereal. You see, my November novel is about the adventures of some wayward ghosts, lost in their city. With no residence, and no possessions, all they can do is wander the streets, trying to focus on a small area that they can become familiar with, so that at least they've got a semblance of home. They're told by another ghost of a great being, "The Caretaker", which will come for them, and take them on to their intended destination in the afterlife.

However, when the Caretaker does appear... well, this is where I wanted to put in a Godzilla attack. Of course, a giant radioactive lizard might violate some copyrights, so I designed my own monster. I call him Nodrog. Nodrog is what you'd get if an 19th century foundry became possessed, and started absorbing all the mud and brick and asphalt around it to grow arms and legs. It picks up a layer of pavement with every step. It has smokestacks jutting out of its back like spines, acting as exhaust pipes. On its face, under two glowing yellow eyes, is a nigh-immobile weld of rebar and plate, frozen in a toothy grin. Its real mouth, however, is in the center of its chest, huge, gaping, and all-consuming.

Now, it may be a monster, but it's still the Caretaker. Therefore, it absorbs ghosts into itself when they come too close, and those ghosts forever lose their individuality, sucked up into the Caretaker's collectiveness.

Now, I was having a fun time writing my novel up until today... but now, I've got the Caretaker lose in the city, chasing these ghosts through the city streets, eating and destroying everything it passes along the way.

Have you noticed the problem yet?

I'M WRITING A PAC-MAN FANFICTION.

What have I done? How did this happen? And how long had Aquadeo known, and simply decided not to tell me? Believe you me, I would have preferred finding this out before I'd written 40,000 words. Ugh.

Now, don't get me wrong -- I still like the novel, I'm still having fun, and I'm still going to finish it. On the other hand, this is going to take a lot more editing than I initially thought.

Hello, Edmonton!

You know, the cinema is nice (especially when you're going to go see Stardust, as I recommended three times last week), but the cost for such vibrant entertainment has been the unmistakeable death of the theatre. Nowadays, theatres seem resigned to their fate -- actors know better than to hope that they'll become a millionaire through their stage performances. The plus side, though, is that it's given them the freedom to experiment, and do the things which theatre cannot. It allows risks to be taken.

In other words, it's time to hit the Fringe. I'll be up in Edmonton on Saturday, checking out the plays. So, if anyone up there is reading this... any recommendations?

You'll note that makes me Han.

I enjoyed a proud geek moment last night:

At my Taekwon-do class, myself and one other student were taking our first exam (white with a yellow stripe -- not a tremendous achievement, but it's a start), and we were performing a pattern together. Examination nerves being what they are, the other fellow (let's call him Art, because that's his name) stopped two steps early. I knew something was wrong, but since I was used to doing the pattern in tandem, I stopped too. The instructor coughed politely, and we wrapped it up as neatly (and humbly) as we could.

In the locker room afterwards, Art was focused on that little blunder. "I can't believe I forgot those steps!", he gnashed.

"I can't believe Denton did the same thing!", someone else mentioned helpfully, but Art wasn't quite listening. "I feel like such a fool!", he continued.

"Ah," said I, "but who's more foolish: the fool, or..."

"...The fool who follows him!", every single person cried out in unison.

That, my friends, is what you call a bonding moment.

p.s. A friendly suggestion: If you're looking for something to do, don't forget that I suggested on Monday (and Wednesday) that you should go see Stardust, in theatres now (but possibly not much later).

Fashion tips and friendly reminders.

Just wanted to remind you all that Stardust hasn't become a worse movie since I talked about it on Monday.

Also, that is the last time I go shopping for "fashionable" pants. Maybe I'm being harsh, but if I put on some trousers and my butt feels like it's not in the right place, my butt is not the first thing I blame.

In Theatres (For) Now.

There aren't many examples of the "Fantasy-Comedy-Romance-Action" genre out there. And of them, I can only think of three that are any good: Brazil, The Princess Bride, and now: Stardust (Yes, I actually linked to the official site -- I'm serious about liking this movie).

If you like The Princess Bride, go see Stardust. It's as simple as that. There's a bit more romance and a bit less comedy, but that doesn't make it a worse movie. The section with Robert DeNiro is a bit out of place, but I can live with it. After all, he plays a lightning pirate that flies through storm clouds in an airship. Do you really think I'm going to say that's a bad thing?

Unfortunately, the movie only grossed $9 million in its opening weekend. Sigh... it seems like more and more often, good movies are disappearing before word of mouth can push them along. Maybe that's just because my tastes are becoming more and more marginal. Maybe the good movies are simply the first to feel the approaching death of movie theatres.

Regardless, this post isn't about mobilising my friends to save Neil Gaiman's film. It's about reminding my friends that if they go see a movie this weekend, The Bourne Ultimatum will still be there next week. Stardust might not. So, like a falling star, run to catch it while you can.