All posts by Armand

Books, Media & Marketing

Eragon

I’ve just finished reading the first volume in a fantasy epic trilogy written by a 15-year-old. Goddamnit.

Not that I’m entirely envious; much as there’s a part of me that wants to be a world-class writer, there’s a lot to be said for living a bit more than Mr Paolini (for such is the young prodigy’s name) before I start transforming my experiences, friends, families and relationships into fictional alternates. Or even making new ones up for myself.

Eragon (pronounced, oddly enough, exactly as you’d pronounce ‘Aragorn’, and even less surprisingly, is ‘Dragon’ spelt with an ‘E’) is a deeply conventional book. There’s everything impressive about the fact that its been written by a kid, but there’s a reason that most decent fantasy writers have accrued a few more years; it gives them time to acquire original ideas. Chris Paolini’s book is an entirely unsurprising, frequently too ‘on the nose’, adventure of a young boy who realises he has powers beyond his wildest dreams, and a young dragon to care for, as he strives to revive the legacy of the ‘Dragon Riders’ and rid the kingdom of its oppressive and cruel ruler.

That said, I enjoyed it: Paolini writes well and has a good turn of phrase, for the most part. He’s got some problems with -logue – dialogue and internal monologues – which run improbable courses – but the book’s good light entertainment, and the story, hackneyed in places though it may be, is compelling enough. Anyone who’s interested should click here and buy it.

Media & Marketing, Music

My exploits with Launch.com and the demise of punk

From the department of self-flagellating, whinging, neurotic singers, division6.

I like rock music. People don’t usually expect it of me; depending on how quickly new people judge me, they either expect me to boogie down to Beethoven, Shah Rukh Khan or Britney Spears. Truth be told, I was one of those kids who turned up at school with no idea what kind of music he liked and was led down the moderately hard rockin’ crowd. Ah, the days of sitting in the common room in our smoking jackets, warming ourselves by a hot fire, with a large mug of tea, a pipe whilst singing “Welcome to the Jungle”… Hang on, that’s not quite what happened…

But never mind. The point is that my rockin’ has always been rather sedate; nothing like that of Jack Black’s, Marilyn Manson, or Axl Rose’s school. Punk skipped me entirely. In 1994, however, I got introduced to the Offspring, and their brand of tepid anti-establishment sentiment really got me going. And needless to say, the Offspring and Green Day were just a tip of a ‘Neopunk’ revolution that today has led to such things as ‘Skater Punk’ which today sometimes includes bands like Simple Plan, Bowling for Soup, Blink 182, Avril Lavigne (yes, yes, I know) and even my old favourites, the Offspring.

It seems that the establishment has stopped bothering these guys. Now that they’re all loaded, and the Republican government is giving all the Americans a big tax cut (surely the Canadians should still be p*ssed off), the only institution they seem to have left to fight against is… wait for it… women!

Bladihell. It’s ridiculous. I was checking out Launch.com in a fairly regular attempt to find myself some new music, and I watched a video of Blink 182 waxing nostalgic after some ex-girlfriend, followed rapidly by Simple Plan doing the same thing. Not that this should have been unexpected, but it just struck me as tedious and whiney; these guys don’t strike the same emotional chord as Cat Stevens with ‘The First Cut is the Deepest’, or really hit on any real sentiment other than luke-warm never-ending self-pitying loathing. Say what you want about Mr Manson (Marilyn, not Charles), he’s not a whinger.

It’s almost enough to drive a man to… Light Rock. Thank goodness for my old AC/DC albums, and for the presence of the Darkness, providing some comedy and a really good sponsorship opportunity for moisturiser filled soap (credit for that pun to Mr Tom).

Media & Marketing, Television

Save Angel!

A few days ago, I watched the finale of the current season of Stargate SG-1 (don’t laugh, it is good – Macgyver, anyone?), with fleeting sadness. At least, with SG-1, I have the next season to look forward to, and one final run with Jack O’Neill and his crazy exploits.

But Buffy finished last season, and now Angel’s up for cancellation. Goddamnit. I don’t want new television. I want me old faves to stay on the air! Futurama, Family Guy, Buffy, Angel, Friends, SG-1 – all are ending or ended, or got canned! Am I going to have to start watching 24 and Nip/Tuck? Not that that would be a bad thing. At least the Simpsons will never die.

Truth is, being honest with myself, it is probably time for them to be put out of their misery. Friends writing is so poor this season you’d almost think they would be better off with a team of monkeys playing around with typewriters writing their scripts. Or Shakespeare; either, really. Still, I can’t help but feel the sadness as an era of television draws to a close. So I’ll say: don’t. Save Angel. Before he turns into a muppet.

Technology

Crikey

I’m not quite sure what the devil’s going on, but since this website became “division6” I’ve been getting 50+ hits a day. It’s almost enough to make a guy feel he’s wanted. <Sniff>. It could just be my clicking through the site 50 times a day to see if someone’s been interested enough in something I’ve said to post a comment, or hack the entire site and replace it with pornography, but my sense of perspective is such that I know that neither of those eventualities are likely to occur, and so click through my site a mere 10 times a day…

And now to something purposeful. In the spirit of celebrating all things Australian, I’ve just watched ‘Infernal Affairs’ – a Hong-Kong-made cop movie set in Hong Kong, appropriately enough. It’s based on the premise that the Triads and the police are so determined to infiltrate each other that they send kids into deep cover in each other’s ranks for a decade, and then use them to either execute or stop drug deals, depending on which side you’re empathising with. It’s quality: starring Andy Lau, who stars, exec produces, and probably sings on the soundtrack too, it’s a great Far-East cop flick that, in addition to lacking all (well, many) of the Western stereotypes cop films are known for, genuinely has an interesting, suspenseful and well set-up plot.

Good work those men. If I were Siskel or Ebert, I’d raise some thumbs. As I’m not, I’ll throw a couple of shrimps on the barbie and call it a day.

Technology

armand.co.uk lives!

My old domain is working again. Both now work. Whether this website will be ‘rebranded’ in line with the new all-singing, all dancing, entirely ambiguous ‘Division 6’ is yet to be seen.

That is all.

Technology

Welcome to division6

Um, you may have noticed that armand.co.uk no longer works. It should start working again soon, but the fact that you’ve managed to find this site means I probably emailed you to let you know that division6.co.uk is the new URL for this site. It’s a long, tedious, technical story that largely has things to do with tinned pork. Spam, for those of you who either eat halal or kosher, or never realised that that’s what spam was named for.

Anyway; division6 is my new domain: guesses on which pop culture reference I’ve chosen for this potentially generic naming on a postcard, or click ‘comments’ after this post and guess. Best idea gets a prize, even if its not the idea I had in mind.

Incidentally, my one-post-a-month average can’t make for interesting reading and almost certainly isn’t driving my hit count up as fast as Qwghlm’s Daily Mail Headline Generator, so look out for improved blogging: you already have two posts for March! Is the Webbiverse lucky?

Books, Current affairs, Media & Marketing

You know guys, I learned something today…

I’ve been walking head first into inspiration lately. First, I read Michael Moore’s latest book, Dude, Where’s My Country, and determined to write to Mr Moore, get a job working on his staff and move to Washington to help the war against Dubya.

Then I watched School of Rock and Mr Jack Black’s high octane, high energy honest-rocking got me geared to write songs. In fact, last Saturday I met a cute New Zealander, and while I failed, in consultant terminology, to “seal the deal”, I’ve decided to throw my inhibitions to the so-called winds and write a song about the sexiness of antipodean-accented-ladies Although I may have to substitute “Australia” for “New Zealand”, for the benefit of good scansion.

While I’ve done and watched many other things recently, the lingering power of those two works has me contemplating my own future, self-involved egotistical bull as that may seem. Michael Moore points out in Dude that the truth of capitalism is that you, being Joe Average, are not ever going to get rich and famous, and that’s part of Capitalist America’s myth that ultimately allows people like Dubya to make massive tax cuts for rich people (because Joe believes that one day he’ll be there, and he’d like that tax cut then). I, being reluctant to accept that I’m Joe Average in any way, and with minimal inclination to money and power, at least, am still looking for a way to change the world. Ok, some money and power might be helpful to that end, but I’m looking for a route. Waiting for my rocket to come. Waiting for my real life to begin.

So a public thanks to Michael Moore and Jack Black. You charming chubby Americans, your pride in what you do, the strength of your convictions and your tireless struggle to promote ideology which I have strong empathy for, if not entirely believe, is inspirational. In the words of AC/DC (and possibly they were paraphrasing a Caesar, but who really knows?): “For those about to rock, I salute you.”

Or in the case of Mr Moore and Mr Black: for those already rockin’.

Afterthought: perhaps the Liberal Myth is that one man can make a difference. I’m not sure I’m cynical enough to abandon that yet.

Film, Media & Marketing

Poisson Grand

Big Fish I know, I have a whole other section for reviews. But this film made an impression on me, although I didn’t quite realise it to begin with. The terrible thing about hype is that your expectation very rarely corresponds to the reality of what the film (book, album, concert, jam) actually involves. Big Fish; Fantasy adenture, tall tales, Ewan McGregor; I expected something between Princess Bride and The Nightmare Before Christmas. And I’m not sure I didn’t get it.

Tim Burton’s always been criticised to me as a director who can’t tell a story. I don’t quite agree with the view; Batman, Nightmare before Christmas, Betelgeuse, they all told stories well enough (even if Planet of the Apes didn’t), if they sacrificed storytelling for atmosphere. I expected something similar again; but Big Fish is a very different kettle of, um, fish.

It’s not that it lacks atmosphere, but structurally, the film did bewilder me at first. A succession of Tall Tales, litle evidence of what was reality and what was fantasy and, to my confused eye, no immediate sense of a progressing narrative. Although the Tall Tales where chronological, they still seemed to lack cohesion.

Gradually, though, and it took longer for it to click in my mind than the watching of the film involved, was that the stories which consume screen time, the stories which identified the primary protagonist, were irrelevant to the plot. The ‘immortality’ that the poster advertises has nothing to do with the principal character’s aims, hopes or desires. His single goal, the single thing which defined him, was a desire to be happy. And here the film holds the same black edge that’s come to be associated with Mr Burton: despite being an absolutely lovely man, our protagonist has managed to alienate his son, lived far away from his wife and is dying. Life isn’t even easy for the good; and perhaps here’s where the stories, the tall tales that form the film, make sense as the fulfillment of Ed Bloom’s need.

It’s a beautiful tragedy, beautifully told. A friend asked me if I cried at the end. I didn’t. I was too perplexed, too confused, too muddled by my own expectations. This is a simple, but wondrous film. I didn’t fully understand why it stuck in my head so long after I’d seen it. I think I do now.

Personal

Happy 2004

New Year with Gil Katie Sheila Sonu & Monu‘llo all – Happy New Year and all the good things that come with it to you all. Had a great holiday in Malaysia, although far from a white Christmas (much more multi-cultural there. And of course, most of my family are varying shades of brown).

Three main bits to my holiday; Christmas, obviously, New Year, and, on Dec 21st… The Return of the King! The much awaited third Lord of the Rings film saw us check in to the Mandarin Oriental hotel, where my siblings and about 17 first cousins and one or two stray aunts got together and watched The Two Towers, played games, shopped at KLCC (a BIG mall) and eventually got to the cinema for the 3 hour extravaganza that was Peter Jackson’s final instalment in the series. Review coming, no doubt, on my flashy new ‘reviews’ blog (use the main navigation to get to reviews, or click here).

Christmas was a family affair; Christmas Eve at hour house, playing games, singing carols and having Punjabi Claus hand out the gifts at midnight. Arvind, in his MBA-isdom, decided on a ‘push’ rather than ‘pull’ system for gift distribution. That didn’t work too well, but eventually the gifts got around and there was much happiness. My haul included a batch of books, hence my motivation to get the reviews page finally up and running, if only so I can keep a log of my reading and film-watching.

New Year’s was spent with friends; Gil & Katie’s Australasian excursion ending up in Singapore/Malaysia, so, following two days of ‘tours’ around major KL malls, we ended up in Bangsar; an expatriate (and apparently Indian)- favoured drinking area in KL, where we visited a couple of bars and rang in the new year several times with a crew of several thousand crazy Malaysian Indians with spray streamers and other party favours. It was surreal, fun and ended with a slightly scary encounter with a psychotic taxi driver, who kept saying to me (and my Malay is shaky, so if there’s an alternate translation I’m not aware of, please do let me know): “tiga orang dah mati, say tak salah, saya tak salah”. My translation has this as “three people are dead, it’s not my fault, it’s not my fault”. He then proceeded to drive us home at about 120km/h in a 50 zone… Yowza.

So a good season; returned to more job applications, another bout of tonsillitis, and various new year’s resolutions concerned with healthy eating and exercise. Resolutiontastic.

Of course a lot more stuff happened over the holidays; my encore classical guitar was destroyed by Malaysian airlines, a replacement Yamaha C-40 was acquired, my cousins and I performed with professional singers an an orphans charity brunch, the Abbalorious SPSetia dinner, the lambtastic Christmas eve dinner, driving like the devil and shopping like it was 1999… All good.