Reflections on an Ancient Ambulance

Photograph, 1993. 

Sylvia and the Lilies

From our trip to visit Jeff, Susan and Steven in 2010. 

Special Guest Star

It's always great to see my old friend Steven Neumann, who I've known since - gasp - 1987. Steve has lived in lotus land for some time now, so his visits are a rare pleasure. Safe journey home, Steve! 

The Wrong Turn

Many years ago--sometime during the early-to-mid 1990s--I was out with my friends Jeff, Susan, Tony, Steven and Ron. Carrie and Allan may have been there too. We were out searching for films to play for our semi-regular bad movie night. Back in those halcyon days, we would visit video rental stores and pore over racks and racks of VHS cassettes. Sometimes the trip itself was as fun or more than the movies themselves.

In this particular instance, we spotted a video store in the Oliver district of Edmonton, in the strip mall that hosts a Brit's Fish & Chips now. We sauntered in and started browsing, and within a few minutes we all realized that the entire store consisted only of the porn section...it was, in fact, an adult video store, a fact that all of us somehow missed. We skittered out, tittering nervously, faces flushed with embarrassed laughter. We were all close, but not so close that we had any interest in perusing pornography together; we were not nearly so hip.

I don't recall if we regrouped to find another video store or if we wound up playing board games or something. It's funny how some memories stick, while others flutter off into invisibility. 

Regaling Frequencies Open

Last night I was surprised by a FaceTime call from my old friend Steven Neumann, who dialed me in to briefly join a celebration of our mutual friend Jeff's 50th birthday. I was quite touched to be included in the celebrations at a distance, and watched as Susan lit Jeff's big 50-shaped sparklers. It was quite a festive conflagration!

Inspired by the call, early this morning I celebrated Jeff's birthday in my own way, with a silly email based on some shared in-jokes that go back over a quarter century...which means that Jeff and I have known each other for longer than we hadn't known each other--rather a sobering thought.

Here's the story, which will make little sense to anyone except for Jeff, his wife Susan, her brother Steven, and my wife, Sylvia, who you may spot in this story as thinly-disguised analogues of themselves. And after you read the story, be sure to visit Jeff's blog and buy some art!

*  *  *

Captain Wolverine's knuckles, white with fury, clung to the jewel-encrusted arms of his command throne. No other hint of turmoil crossed his Saturnine features. Coolly, he swiveled the throne to face his elegant yet disdainful - one would almost say insubordinate - communications officer, red-skirted, blonde-beehived, Lieutenant Feral.

"Repeat that last, Lieutenant!" barked Wolverine. It came out as a dare. Feral rolled her eyes.

"There's an incoming transmission from the U.S.S. Encounter," she said. "Admiral Woods has a message for you."

Resigning himself, Captain Wolverine turned his throne to face the bridge's main viewer.

"Put him on," he sighed.

The screen flickered from a starfield to the rakish, dashing visage of Admiral Woods himself, who was currently leaning forward in his own command chair, one eyebrow raised, his slash of a mouth forming an insouciant grin.

"Captain Wolverine," he said. "I hear congratulations are in order."

"Yes," Wolverine replied casually, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs insolently. "You speak of course of our successful first contact with the Sequential Analog Loving Intellect Validator mark 8 machine culture. Really, the credit goes to my Chief Medical Officer, Commander Steadfast, and her brother, our Science Officer, Commander Ice. They're the ones who..."

"I wasn't actually talking about the SALIV-8 matter, though of course it was quite an accomplishment. No, I brought you something. Transporter room, beam over the package."

In the space just above Captain Wolverine's lap, a swirl of matter suddenly coalesced into a small paperback book, which plopped gently onto his crossed legs.

"What's this?" Wolverine wondered, opening the book to a random page. "'There no doubt existed computer dossiers in half a dozen capitals on the sexual tastes and proclivities of Jonathan Emeric Anderson. Whoever had selected Charla Boyd knew exactly what they were doing; she looked as if she had been literally materialized out of Jack's own sexual fantasies...'"

Wolverine put the book down and looked askance at the Admiral. "Message, Woods?"

The Admiral shrugged innocently. "None that I am aware of, except of course...happy birthday."

Wolverine grimaced. "How did you find out?"

"Well, I could be mysterious and say something like 'It's my business to know," but to be honest your wife and brother-in-law ratted you out."

Wolverine threw an annoyed glare at Steadfast and Ice. Steadfast responded by leaning in behind the command throne and gnawing on Wolverine's throat, while Ice chuckled dryly (his nickname was, in fact, "Dry Ice.").

"You run a tight ship, Captain Wolverine," Woods mocked gently and somewhat hypocritically, being no paragon of discipline himself. "Report to Starbase 50 immediately for R&R, and by the way, I'm poaching Lieutenant Feral from you; her transfer to my command will take effect as soon as you dock."

Feral rolled her eyes again. "It's not real, Earl."

Woods shook his fists over his head theatrically. "I'm doing a bit, Monkey! Also, down with metanarrative."

"I hate when you do this," Wolverine said.

"I wonder," Woods replied. "Anyway, happy birthday, and may you enjoy many more to come."

"Channel closed," Feral reported. "Can we wrap up this story so I can put on some real clothes and get out of these dumb pajamas?"

"Set course for Starbase 50," Wolverine said, making finger-guns at the viewscreen. Alexander Courage's trumpet fanfare rolled across the bow as the ship banked to port, credits superimposed over the VFX before the image faded to black. 

Sour Surprise

Our friend Steven visited for a few days. Early Tuesday morning, just before his scheduled departure, I found him in the kitchen sitting down to enjoy a bowl of Raisin Bran. And why not? I told him to help himself to anything in the fridge or pantry. Nonetheless, I was puzzled:

"We had milk?" I asked. Our fridge is often bereft of such staples.

"Yep," he said, laying into the cereal with a will.

"That's weird," I thought. "I was sure I drank the last of the milk a few days ago."

I thought nothing of it until late that evening, when Sylvia cried out:

"EARL! Did Steven have cereal?"

"Yes, he had it for breakfast just before he left."

"I think he used expired milk!"

Oh oh.

I checked the fridge. On the top shelf was the suspect container, and the Best Before date read September 10.

Sylvia and I were horrified. We'd poisoned our house guest! Our haphazard approach to throwing out old food had finally caught up with us!

I texted Steven to see if he was all right. He replied that there were no ill effects, save perhaps "...a little more gas than usual."

Saved by Steven's iron stomach! Still, we're very embarrassed. We don't set out to make our guests sick. We'd rather offer the milk of human kindness. 

Sunday with Steven

It's always nice when old friends come to visit, and this weekend and I Sylvia and I have the pleasure of hosting Steven Neumann, who I met waayyyyy back in 1987 at a University of Alberta Star Trek Club meeting. I wasn't even 20 back then, and now we're closing in our 50s fast. Yikes. 

All Choked Up

Sometime back in 1995, my friend Steven Neumann mock-choked me. I like how the gentle, easygoing smile on his face - typical of Steven - constrasts with my maniacal gurgling. I imagine his sister Susan probably shot this strange image. 

Revisiting The X from Outer Space

One evening sometime in the late 80s to early 90s, I sat down with Jeff and Susan and possibly Ron and Tony and maybe Steven to watch The X from Outer Space on VHS cassette. I don't remember much about that night other than Jeff's mocking chant: "AAB Gamma! AAB Gamma! Come in, AAB Gamma! Oh no, AAB Gamma!"

I found it pretty funny, because of course that phrase or ones much like it were repeated ad nauseum throughout this curious little Japanese space thriller. In short, a crew of Japanese astronauts (very multicultural, some ethnic Japanese, some caucasian), embark on a rocket flight to Mars, but due to asteroids and UFOs they give up, land on the moon, switch out a crew member, and inadvertently bring the egg of a monster back to Earth. The monster destroys Tokyo, the scientists synthesize a substance to defeat it, and star-crossed lovers gaze at Mount Fuji.

I remember the plot because Sylvia and I just watched it again. Her judgement of the film surprised me.

"Well, what did you think?" I asked.

"Oh, it was good," she said.

"Really?!"

"It wasn't as annoying as some of your other weird crap."

She had me there.

The Shock Fight

I looked on in bemusement as Jeff and Tony shuffled across the carpeted floor of Tony's apartment in their sock feet, attempting to build up electrical charges sufficient to zap one another with static electricity.

 

It was a shock fight.

 

The combatants taunted each other as they pointed fingers dangerously rich in electric potential, two young, gaunt men, one brunette, one blonde, cackling like madmen as their friends, I among them, watched.

 

Our grins were tolerant, our sidelong glances slightly mocking. How silly, we said silently, for two grown men (ah, but how young we really were, scarce more than teenagers) to gambol about like little boys on a playground. Soon, we imagined, they would tire of this juvenile pastime and we could all re-focus on more important matters, such as the latest episode of Twin Peaks or our progress through the Wasteland on Tony's PC.

 

The shock fight rose in intensity, socked feet wearing tracks into the abused carpet, Jeff's lips twisted back in a snarl, Tony's eyes feverish with combat-lust. And then time slowed as the unthinkable happened:

 

The men closed in on one another, socks sparking invisibly, flesh tingling with tightly bound energy aching to be unleashed. Jeff's guard was down for an instant as Tony's hand rose in a graceful arc toward his foe's brutish visage. My eyebrows climbed toward my hairline as I experienced a sudden dark warning of disaster, but too late, for in that instant a bolt of miniature lightning formed an eldritch connection between the tip of Tony's outstretched index finger and the bulge of Jeff's unsuspecting right eyeball. There was a loud snap, followed by a wail of agony as Jeff clapped both hands over his quivering eye.

 

"MY EYE!" he screamed. Tony stepped back, pressing his hands over his mouth in surprised horror, his own eyes wide with shock as he realized what he'd done.

 

"Oh no!" Susan screamed, her hands, too, leaping to a mouth agape in horror.

 

"Good Lord," Ron said, chuckling, hands on hips, as Steven shook his head and sighed. Andrea merely rolled her eyes.

 

As for my hands, they went to my then-firm belly as I roared with laughter, my head tossed back in glee, lost in a fit of sadistic mirth.

 

Jeff's yelling and cursing steadily decreased in pitch and volume as the swelling went down, though hot tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. Tony, unabashed, regained some of his earlier bravado and taunted Jeff further. I cackled on the couch for a while until I was breathless, then paused to catch that breath only to lose myself in hilarity again. Jeff's pain abated long before I finished.

 

While silly and perhaps even dangerous, I'll never forget the sheer spectacle of that evening's shocking entertainment. You could even say I got a real charge out of it.

Aquarium Selfie

I like to say that as a photographer I make a pretty good writer, but if you take enough pictures, eventually you get something cool. Sylvia and I are captured here along with our friend H. Steven Neumann, who used his connections to take us on a grand tour of the Vancouver Aquarium back in 2009. As you can see by the smiles on our faces, we all had a great time.

Kick-start My Heart

Now that I'm employed again, I'm having a hard time stopping myself from supporting various projects on Kickstarter, specifically a number of really cool-looking games:

Project Eternity: From the guys that brought us Planescape: Torment, several of the Fallout games, Baldur's Gate and more comes a new isometric 3D fantasy RPG that looks cool as all heck. This one's already funded, thank goodness, and I can't wait until it's released.

Wasteland 2: I remember being enthralled by Wasteland back in the 90s, when Jeff and Ron and Susan and Steven and Andrea and I gathered at Tony's place to guide our avatars - survivors of a global thermonuclear war - through the wastelands. If this is half as good as the original, it'll be worth playing.

Ogre: I had a heck of a time playing this back in the 80s, and now Steve Jackson's first game returns in a deluxe edition. I can't wait.

Carmageddon Reincarnation: For folks with sick, twisted senses of humour, Carmageddon and Carmageddon 2 were gifts from the gods. Vehicular mayhem returns!

Deadwood Studios USA: I love movies. I love westerns. I love board games. This game combines all three, casting you in the role of bad actor struggling to make a living working in Z-grade western films. And it's from proven studio Cheapass Games! They're even offering the original edition of Deadwood for free on their website. Blam!

All Quiet on the Martian Front: This looks like the miniatures game that was specifically designed for me: Martian tripods versus puny but plucky humans of the post-Victorian era! The models are gorgeous, and it seems like the kind of game I could convince at least a couple of my friends to play.

Age is starting to make me a little cynical, but I really think the Kickstarter model has the potential to make all kinds of small-scale business ventures possible - projects lacking wide mainstream appeal, but with enough dedicated core support to succeed if only we could be made aware of the possibilities. Kickstarter brings creative folks and their fans together, and so far that looks like a pretty good thing.

Jellyfish '09

While visiting Jeff, Susan and Steven in 2009, I shot this photograph at the Vancouver Aquarium. The composition would have been better had I managed to capture a single jellyfish floating alone, but the creatures insisted on swimming in close proximity. This is as close as I came to the effect I wanted, and while it's not perfect, I'm reasonably pleased.

Cloud Mushroom

Some days inspiration strikes, and some days inspiration strikes you down. This fake movie poster is pretty terrible, but at least it forced me to experiment with type - with decidedly mixed results, as you can see. A more gifted graphic designer would have erased the trees and replace them with a mushroom cloud, to signify more clearly the film's post-apocalyptic setting. Actually, I'm sure I can do that myself if I take the time. Maybe tomorrow.

Neumann in Town

Nothing much to say today because Sylvia and I are busy visiting with our old friend H. Steven Neumann, visiting from Vancouver. Good times!

20 Years of Nursing

I just realized - a few months late, admittedly - that my friend Susan has been a nurse for 20 years. This photo was taken at her graduation ceremony at the Jubilee Auditorium back in January of 1992. She's supported here by her friends, all members of the University of Alberta Star Trek Club: her brother Steven Neumann, future husband Jeff Shyluk, Tony Longworth, Jim Sandercock, and me. I have no idea how many babies Susan has taken care of over the years, but it must be thousands, and certainly countless families are in her debt.

Enjoy the next 20 years, Susan!

All the World's a Stage...Line

Once or twice every five years or so, I'm forced to wear a suit. In 1998, Allan Sampson and I travelled to Cranbrook, British Columbia, to celebrate the nuptials of our old friends Jeff and Susan. While waiting for the ceremony to begin, Allan and I amused ourselves by posing on and around the landmarks of nearby Fort Steele.

I'm really quite happy with this photo. I like the colour and composition and Allan looks quite dapper.

I'm pretty happy with this one, too. The wedding party looks great, though I wonder why Steven Neumann (at right) looks so concerned.

I don't remember the significance of the His and Hers Frisbee, unless they were an oblique reference to the time we were all playing Frisbee in the park and Susan accidentally hit Jeff in the teeth with one. I still remember Jeff's "Earrrgghh!" with exquisite clarity.

Glimpses of Bitter Litter

A couple of posts ago I mentioned my short film Bitter Litter in passing. I'm certain that the parties involved (Ron, Jeff, Susan and Steven) would punish me should I ever lose my wits and post it on YouTube, but I thought it might be fun to share a few screencaps to give discerning filmgoers an idea of the picture's quality (or lack thereof):

As the mad scientist (Susan) looks on, Basil (Jeff) examines the robot (Steven) with his "brain machine." Shot on location in Susan's apartment!

An angry bystander (Ron) confronts Basil after the robot kills "his brother"/"that man!" (We weren't big on continuity.)

But Basil turns the tables: "I'll strangle you, you fiend! Strangle you!"

But the robot runs amok, killing Basil.

Of all the films we made while members of the University of Alberta Star Trek Club, this was probably the worst - our "Plan 9," if you will. And yet I still look upon it with fondness to match the disgust and repulsion of my cast.

Choke Point

I'm still sick. If anything, I feel worse today than I did yesterday. I don't have any photos of me being sick, but I do look somewhat distressed here thanks to Steven's choke hold, so...it's somewhat thematic, I guess. I don't recall the exact context of this photo, but I found the negative in the same batch as that containing images of Jeff and Susan's move from Edmonton to British Columbia, so perhaps these were taken at the same event.

As Tam commented insightfully on my last post, whenever those of us in generally good health feel sick, we should try to be grateful that ours is a temporary affliction, gone in a few days. People with chronic health problems aren't nearly so fortunate, so it's a bit rich to be grumpy over something as minor as a flu or head cold. On the other hand, it's hard to be philosophical when you're in pain, and I think anyone that feels bad can be forgiven for feeling a little sorry for themselves, however briefly.

It may hurt to laugh at this picture right now, but I'm still glad I found it. 

Through a Lens, Darkly

I've always loved Halloween. My first Halloween - at least, the first I remember - happened in Leaf Rapids. It was an unseasonably warm October that year - "unseasonably warm" for northern Manitoba meaning that it was merely freezing, with wet snow chilling me to the bone. I only remember that wet snow and the ghost costume my mother hand-made for me sticking to my skin, soaking. I think I had fun anyway.

The next Halloween I remember happened in Leduc, grade five or six. I made my own costume this time; I was a robot. I stapled cardboard boxes together with a staple gun and covered everything in tin foil. There was a dance, and the costume was so hot that I felt faint...plus the staples were jabbing into my body. It was extremely uncomfortable.

Here's a photo of Jeff Pitts and Kevin Kelly and me, ready to head out for some Halloween event or another in 1987. I don't remember anything about what we might have done that night; without this photo, I wouldn't have been able to tell you that I did anything for Halloween in 1987 at all. It's odd that this picture was taken at Mom and Dad's place in Leduc, since I would have been living at Lister Hall at the U of A at the time, in my first year of post-secondary education.

I do remember Halloween 1990, though; a bunch of friends gathered at Earl's on the university campus and then headed over to Lister Hall for the Halloween dance. I think Ron Briscoe's defrocked priest was the best costume, although Jeff and Susan as Prince and Princess Charming were pretty awesome too. Then again, so was Tony's genie...and so was Carrie's harem girl. I'm not sure who Steven Neumann was supposed to be...I think Michael Snyder was a pirate.

The next Halloween I remember was back in 1996, when Leslie, who was my boss at the time, took me to a GLBT-friendly Halloween party. She was a vampire, I was "Ensign Woods on shore leave." (That is, I wore my old grade nine home-made gold Star Trek tunic, beach shorts and carried around a frisbee.) No pictures of that event, unfortunately, but as you might expect because of gay stereotypes, the costumes were really terrific. The people were really nice, too, especially considering I was still pretty naive about gay and lesbian culture at the time.

Sylvia's birthday falls just a few days before Halloween. I don't recall what we did for the holiday that year, but it was Sylvia's 35th birthday - the first I'd experienced as her boyfriend - and we celebrated the milestone by throwing a huge party.

By 2006 we had our own home and were carving pumpkins together.

Only a few of the intrepid folks at the Official Opposition dressed up for Halloween in 2007, but our boss Judy was one of them, in an amazing Three Stooges mask.

In 2008, Sylvia borrowed my phaser and my old Star Trek command tunic (originally made in grade nine!) to gently mock my pop culture obsessions.

I wish I had more photos to prop up my Halloween memories, but these will have to do. Until next year...happy haunting.