101 things about me

  1. I enjoy reading erotica (though in small doses), preferably Victorian or Edwardian. My two favorites are Flossie: A Venus of Sixteen (some editions say she’s fifteen) and Evangeline, and you may take that as another sign that I like active, aggressive, even promiscuous women.
  2. Since they’re in the public domain, I’ve toyed with the idea of transcribing them and putting them up on another blog, in serial form.
  3. I was a comic book fiend as a teenager. While I don’t collect and rarely read them now, I still consider it a legitimate art form.
  4. This one you might not have figured out: Despite my general proclivity toward voluptuous ladies (a tendency easily seen in the Beauty for the Day feature), the great majority of my girlfriends have been downright waifish.
  5. Further, while I like tall women most of my girlfriends have been under 5′5″.
  6. On the other hand, I like smart women, and in fact prefer a woman who is smarter than me, at least in some areas. In this I have been lucky: “smart” is one of the first words anyone would think of to describe any of my past girlfriends. (Well, except the first, perhaps.)
  7. I detest the majority of the French “New Wave,” and I even dislike many (not all) of Truffaut’s films—yet I have an unaccountable liking for Truffaut the man.
  8. I first saw Casablanca in early high school, on videotape. I first saw Singin’ In The Rain in a college class, on film.
  9. My very earliest memory is of the day Groucho Marx died. I have no idea why I would remember it—I didn’t begin to love the Brothers Marx until I was at least six—but I can recall seeing a montage on the TV news of Groucho clips, with a sad feeling in the announcer’s voice. I wasn’t yet two when he died.
  10. I nearly always prefer black and white to color.
  11. Unless it is sumptuous color, used with purpose.
  12. I often feign a bit more ignorance than I really have, I am unsure why. Probably it is a defense mechanism; I hate being manipulated, and knowing more than I let on often exposes others’ attempts to manipulate me.
  13. The Kurosawa essay is about half written. I will finish it, but the emotional toll of writing it may necessitate a break from blogging afterward.
  14. I don’t “get” many adults. I can’t tune in to the unspoken assumptions and implications that the more political of our species use to communicate the bulk of their substantive messages. When I make them state things explicitly, 9 times out of 10, they get angry with me.
  15. But I don’t care, because I’m already angry with them. If you can’t show the minimal courtesy and respect of speaking plainly, then to hell with you.
  16. I do “get” virtually all children under the age of ten. I can almost see their minds at work sometimes.
  17. What I really want to do is direct. Seriously, while I’m a decent writer, and while I’m happy to know as much as I do about story and structure, writing is difficult, tedious and sometimes painful to me—it is figuring out the “what” of a story. For me, directing is easy—it is determining the “how.”
  18. Even so, I generally consider the writer the true auteur of a film, not the director (unless they are the same, of course). As far as I’m concerned, the “how” is subservient to the “what.”
  19. I think the most useful question a writer can ask himself while writing is “What is the worst possible thing that can happen to my character now?”
  20. My freshman roommate in University would channel–surf a lot. Whenever he passed an airing of Mystery Science Theater 3000 he would stop a channel or two upstream, turn, and stare at me. If I was in a bad mood, I’d make him wait like that for a minute or so. If not, not. But, after that, I would tell him the name of the movie they were skewering, and also whether that particular episode was good or not.
  21. Yes, every time.
  22. He also watched Beavis & Butthead virtually non–stop. Because of this, I eventually learned that those two characters were among the few that I could mimic successfully.
  23. I hate Beavis & Butthead. And no, I won’t “do” their voices for you. Unless you are a lady, a knockout, and make it worth my while. Then, maybe.
  24. I’ve had a beer with Ted Raimi. He goes flush after about half a bottle.
  25. I once spent an entire day in the company of Bruce Campbell. He’s much cooler than you would expect. I somehow managed not to make a complete ass of myself.
  26. My natural speaking voice is deep, and makes many people uneasy. Because of this, within a year of my voice change, I adopted a higher register. Now I have to concentrate to drop into my natural range.
  27. When encountering a stranger on a darkened street at night, dropping into my natural register is quite handy for dissuading any funny business. Like I said, it makes people uneasy.
  28. In fact, once when walking down a darkened street, a car pulled into a driveway about fifty yards ahead of me. The window rolled down, and a voice said “Hey!” I stopped walking, set my voice to “don’t f*** with me” and drawled out “Yeeaaaaah?” Immediate reply: “Oh, sh*t, dude! Ian, it’s just me!”
  29. I would sooner listen to fingernails on a chalkboard or styrofoam containers rubbing against each other than to a recording of my own voice. No matter how I try, I always sound like a smartass. Most people don’t hear that, but a few do.
  30. Also, though I’ve been working on it twenty years or more, I can never completely erase my lisp. Nobody hears it but me, though.
  31. On the second student film I worked on, the director pulled me aside on the third or fourth day of shooting. I was having a bad day, had made a few mistakes, so before he could speak I began to apologize. He looked at me like I was out of my mind, and proceeded to thank me for kicking so much ass for him.
  32. I am uncomfortable in dense crowds. I used to have severe panic attacks if I was in one too long, to the point of losing my lunch.
  33. Yet I love living in a city of 14 million.
  34. Though I live in the Mainland, where Mandarin is the spoken dialect, I think Cantonese is the more pleasing to the ear. Especially when spoken by women.
  35. Jazz is the soundtrack of my life. If it was recorded before 1960, chances are I will like it (or already do).
  36. After 1960, probably not.
  37. I’d like to know enough music theory to be able to explain why this is. I don’t.
  38. I am very bad at putting words to thoughts. I know what I think, but usually express it very poorly in language.
  39. Yet I call myself a writer.
  40. I have a mild nerve deafness which makes sorting out sounds very difficult. If you speak to me at a party where there’s music and lots of loud conversation, I can hear your voice, but I can’t filter out your words from the rest of the din. What I’m doing is lip–reading and guessing what it is you’re telling me. And hoping you don’t think I’m a jerk when I guess wrong.
  41. Same thing at most bars; too much background noise.
  42. Which sort of explains why I don’t generally enjoy parties or bars too much.
  43. I was known in high school for dropping terrible puns, and doing it often.
  44. When I left for university, I hung up my puns and retired.
  45. A housemate discovered my punny history one summer—through no fault of my own, I should add—and made it her mission to outpun me. Each day she’d cook up a new crusher and try it on me, and every day I’d deflate her attempt in short order.

    One time she came into my room with a smile that assured me that I could not win. She asked me how the news would speak of a coffee company’s spokesperson after he’d passsed away. I thought a moment, then said I didn’t know, but what I did know… was an answer that sent her cursing out of the room. Eventually I found out that her answer had been “The perco–late Mr. So–and–so.”

    Well, I didn’t know how he’d be referred to, but I was pretty sure that he’d be buried on Sankafied grounds.

  46. Yes, I know it hurts. No, I will not apologize for it.
  47. I read Shakespeare in high school. For fun.
  48. Also The Brothers Karamazov.
  49. Which one of my English teachers allowed that she had never read, remarking “Ugh, it’s too long.”
  50. If a woman is attractive, then she is even more attractive in glasses.
  51. My favorite three Bond movies are On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, The Living Daylights, and Dr. No, because, each in its own way, they are the truest to the books.
  52. I’ve long had a thing for older women. Lauren Bacall, Diana Rigg, Rene Russo, Mariska Hargitay, and Maggie Cheung are all, today, still quite sexy. Some women, like wine, improve with age (Maggie Cheung being the most obvious from that list).
  53. Yet I’m officially a dirty old man. I’m thirty, and am drawn toward teenagers.
  54. It isn’t that I like asian women necessarily, it’s that I like dark hair and dark eyes. With that kind of preference, moving to China only makes sense.
  55. I hate bananas. The smell alone makes me nauseous.
  56. I first read A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court around the age of ten. I first understood that it was a comedy around the age of fifteen. It remains one of my very favorite books despite the wretched ending.
  57. I garnish my garlic with food.
  58. I almost never drank when I was younger. I dislike feeling out of control and that, combined with the fact that I genuinely like the taste of alcohol, convinced me I should just stay away.
  59. Going shot for shot with a German cousin at an anniversary party, right up to the end of the bottle(s), convinced me that I didn’t need to stay away.
  60. Still, I prefer drinking alone, at home, to doing so in public. A residual effect of my control issues.
  61. I talk to myself. Well, “mutter,” but nevertheless, I provide running commentary much of the time. Not sure why. Maybe just because it amuses me.
  62. No, I don’t care who gives me a funny look.
  63. Whenever I notice that I am writing a character into a story who is too obviously myself, I either cut him out completely, or find a reason to kill him early and harshly.
  64. That’s how Vision got to be such a strong story—I killed the whiner and had to find a different protagonist a third of the way in.
  65. I just gave away my best plot twist ever.
  66. Then again, I don’t usually use twists at all.
  67. Most film lovers speak of 1970s American films with hushed awe. This drives me mad.
  68. Many also deride Jaws and the deterioration of Hollywood into the blockbuster mentality. While there is a wisp of a point here, this also drives me crazy.
  69. For the record, the ’70s films that are revered that I think are actually worthy of reverence are Five Easy Pieces, Patton, The Godfather, The Conversation, and the opening scene of The King of Marvin Gardens
  70. Easy Rider sucked. So did Mean Streets, The Last Detail, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, Coming Home, The Long Goodbye, Norma Rae, and virtually every other so–called Important Movie With A Good Message of that time.
  71. Someone’s going to demand I return my film geek credentials for that.
  72. (The Deer Hunter was good, except for a stupid ending. All the President’s Men was beyond good, it was awesome.)
  73. I don’t like Kubrick’s films, even though they’re very good.
  74. I do like Dr. Strangelove and Eyes Wide Shut.
  75. I read upwards of ten books at a time. I have to have a different book going for each mood I might be in.
  76. This means that some books take me a year or more to finish. I’ve even let a book sit for two years without picking it up, before I finally did and read it to the end.
  77. It was Time Enough for Love by Robert A. Heinlein. The ending of “The Tale of the Adopted Daughter” was so goddamned depressing that I couldn’t muster the will to continue the thing. Which was, after all, Heinlein’s point, I think. Which is to say, the book was about the life of an immortal; and he really made me feel the pain an immortal would feel knowing that all those around him would end up as dust, no matter how much he loved them.
  78. I almost never read every book by any one author. If it’s a writer I don’t like, the reason is obvious.
  79. If it’s a writer I do like, I have a hard time facing the idea that there will be no more new books from him. I leave some books unread just to know that, someday, I can still pick up a new Heinlein, or a new Stout, or a new Shute…
  80. I used to hate musicals. Now I love them. Well, some of them.
  81. My three favorites are Singin’ in the Rain (natch), The Merry Widow (1934, d. Ernst Lubitsch), and The Music Man.
  82. Presently, I live in China. I was born in East China (Township, Michigan).
  83. I really don’t like Martin Scorsese’s films.
  84. Except that I really enjoy Goodfellas.
  85. Despite my love of Twain, Rand, and several other quintessentially American writers, I consider the most American novel ever written to be Willa Cather’s My Ántonia.
  86. Sometimes I will take clever over funny. E.g., I love Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid, which is deucedly clever, but not awfully funny.
  87. I can’t stand Adam Sandler.
  88. Or Chris Farley.
  89. Or Will Farrell.
  90. Or David Spade.
  91. (Except in Just Shoot Me—a sign of how incredibly good the writers on that show were.)
  92. The most endearing characters to me on The Simpsons are Moe Szyzlak, Apu, and Ralphie Wiggum. Ralphie most of all. “Hi Super Nintendo Chalmers!”
  93. I make a strange distinction between “geek” and “dork”. A geek is one who is a master of far too many facets of something. A dork is an outside admirer and observer. A computer geek can hand–code binary right on the metal, if need be. A computer dork knows what that means, but is about six years’ study away from ever doing it. I’m a computer dork, but a movie geek.
  94. That usage is a relic of a past girlfriend.
  95. I’m subject to jarring mood swings. At times I’ve even suspected I’m bipolar.
  96. But I distrust headshrinkers, and don’t think pills are the answer to most mental problems or personality flaws.
  97. While I defend pornography, I actually dislike hardcore. Spare me the clinical closeups, please, and give me some kind of a story with characters I might like.
  98. Which is why I much prefer certain Category III films from Hong Kong to just about anything produced in the U.S.
  99. One of the most common things I am told by Chinese women is that I am quite child–like, meaning that I show my emotions directly, instead of masking them.
  100. Boxers.
  101. Don’t say “sci-fi” to me. Just don’t. If you absolutely must, at least pronounce it correctly: “skiffy.”
This entry was written by Ian Michael Hamet, posted on 23 January 2005 at 11:00 pm +0800, filed under Blogosphere. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Comments are closed, but you can leave a trackback: Trackback URL.