As a I struggle through a draft of Final Girl, elections choke the North American airwaves. In Canada, the third one in four years...at a cost of $240,000,000 each time to the taxpayer. Canada claims to hate elections, but always chooses a minority government, thus guarantees it. That's the Great White North for ya. Here, be ready to run at all times. It is like living in the heart of Friday night with no music and cheap friends.
Shit happens, as they say, and you don't always need music to play musical chairs. There is also a sense of doom in the air. Canadian artists, filmmakers, musicians, actors, sculptors etc, have had a year of a thousand cuts. This has been a year I've written letters to so many politicians, I've lost count. It all started in February with Bill c-10. Some have responded, most have not. This has also been a year in which I've sent out more proposals for funding then any other. The cultural industry is full of smart fools who won't learn, and on some days I am one of them. I try to remain optimistic. I have gone down with more ships than Captain Ahab and usually for honourable reasons, but I'm getting tired of it. I am especially getting tired of going out to sea with dumb bastards who punch holes in the bottom of the boat and call it smart.
The names change and the details vary from one election to the next, but the bottom line is consistent: There is no pulse.
That is the nut of it, and on some nights it is a very spooky thing to contemplate. There is no sense of urgency. There is a blizzard of news, lies, gaffes, and other thick information coming back, but there is no wild music that comes with the feeling of risk in the air. The fat is in the fire and the deal is going down and the only thing for sure is that a lot of folks in the 'Arts' and 'Film and TV business' are going to wish that wolves had stolen us from our cradles when the votes get counted on election day.
Me? I'll keep plugging away, but I'm going to sit near the exit. The hog is in the tunnel and coming forward fast.