My Zombie Weekend

Eleven fifty-five - almost midnight. Enough time for one more story. One more story before twelve- just to keep us warm. 

In five minutes it will be the twelfth of June. Ten years ago on the twelfth of June, down in the South Island a polar blast brought the heaviest snowstorm in seventy years. In the high country of Canterbury some homesteads were without power for two weeks. Trees and power poles snapped from the weight of the snow, North Otago was cut off from the outside world, and Mrs Simian was stuck in Timaru with her parents. This isn't her story. This is instead the story of what I got up to whilst she was snowed in.

It was just me and the cat. We had the whole house to ourselves for two nights (so we thought), including the stereo and the DVD player. A quick fish and chip tea for one (two) gave me more hours for the evening, and I embarked upon a then-distressingly predictable activity: too much screen-time and an early morning retirement. No internet, though - for some reason I was hell-bent on modelling and movies.

The models were Games Workshop Easterlings. Nice sculpts, but colour-wise a bit one-note, really, and they're still unfinished. The movies were an ambitious triple-feature: early ScoJo and mid-career Thora Birch in an adaptation of Daniel Clowes' Ghost World; the then-recent adaptation of Dawn of the Dead by newcomer Zack Snyder - and the original Romero Dawn of the Dead for good measure. 

Ghost World ended the viewing that evening - for the better. I can't recall which version of Dawn started, though I'd say the purist in me would have picked the Romero. It's deservedly a classic and even while familiar in its plot and story beats, I wasn't ready for its length. And in terms of building up a sense of fatalistic dread, Romero was a master. Two hours of gnawing death - on several levels. I should have known, having been properly disturbed by Romero's Night of the Living Dead and depressed by Day of the Dead.

By contrast Snyder's (and screenwriter James Gunn's) remake is sprightly, high-velocity and despite fears to the contrary packs a punch. The title sequence sets the scene - and it's pretty faithful in its nihilism from those first few scenes: 

Back to the cold outside. It was freezing in Wellington, too. The wind was blowing in the wrong direction for the fire to put out any heat, and the cat bagsied what little did come out long before it made it to the couch. The wind also blew a side gate against the house during the movies - bang, bang, bang... I ventured outside to fix it shut and noticed a light on in the basement. Seriously freaked out I crept to the door, drew the bolt... and found I'd just left it on getting the model stuff in the afternoon. 

By 1:30 when Ghost World had finished, I went to bed. And realised I'd not put the electric blanket on. I shivered for an hour before I decided to warm up in the shower, and even then I couldn't warm up. Plus, my over-active brain was embarking on a second session of the zombie double-feature instead of getting me to sleep. The cat had long gone for somewhere warmer. In defeat, I took the car out of the garage and drove around empty streets to try and settle down.

By day things cleared up. The sun came out, and a friend came around for a cuppa and a jam (hi, Tim!) And still somewhat sleep-deprived, I wandered around the house like a... well, you know.

In the mean-time I was still listening to a couple of recent purchases. The Shaun of the Dead soundtrack, and the first two Gorillaz albums. Shaun has a fun selection of movie soundbites and incidental music with the odd remix among them. As you might expect, there's a Romero movie mashup in there, with 'The Gonk', the theme to Dawn of the Dead's overlong slapstick sequence, mixed in with Keith Chegwin's voiceover for It's a Knock-Out. Gorillaz of course have form with the undead, Jamie Hewlett's animation company being Zombie Flesh Eaters of course, but there are also at least three Gorillaz songs ('Overture', 'Hip Albatross' and 'M1-A1') which contain samples from Romero movies (Dawn and Day of the Dead respectively) And 'Starshine' off the untitled debut always struck me as lonely and bleak.

I listened to those songs a lot over that weekend, either on the buzz or to exorcise the spooks, and I did sleep a little better the next night, being somewhat knackered. Mrs Simian eventually bused out of Timaru and arrived back in town a couple of days late, and not a moment too soon. I go to bed at more sensible hours, now.

Speaking of which, it's high time I went off myself, now. Pleasant dreams, everyone.

The Doctor is in

Among a few entertaining coincidences in my reading and listening of late is the appearance of a figure from English history whom I intend to read a little more about, er, at some point soon.

Dr John Dee was royal astrologer to Elizabeth I, and her sister Mary before his skill and persuasion found better favour with the Virgin Queen. Dee seems to have been cut from similar cloth to the genii of his era and the later Renaissance; he was a scholar, cartographer, Hermeticist, military strategist, an astronomer and a mathematician. By forecasting the potential death of Mary he courted his own demise, yet in setting an auspicious date for Elizabeth’s coronation almost certainly retained his station as one of her most trusted advisors. His feats were humanist, yet remarkable – he owned the largest library in England and conceived the idea of a national library in the interest of the preservation of knowledge (Mary wasn’t keen), and for Elizabeth he presented the notion (and thus coined the epithet) of a British Empire. By predicting the approaching tempests off the Dover coast he encouraged his Queen to spare her navy the perilous and precipitous defence against the approaching Spanish Armada, and instead they watched nature perform the task from the safety of land. Alongside the Queen’s ‘spymaster’ Sir Francis Walshingham he pioneered the use of espionage and was literally through his own codename the original “007.”

As befalls one who straddles history and mysticism, Dee finds his way into the canon of Iron Maiden songs, with The Alchemist from The Final Frontier:


Dee’s pursuit of mysticism and the occult is presumably what endears him to Maiden, and has helped to ensure the longevity of his name today. He has been described variously as the inspiration for Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus and Shakespeare’s Prospero; Alan Moore surely also had him in mind in his conception of the latter character for the closing of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: The Black Dossier, yet it’s curious too that this somewhat late pursuit of his life turns him into an utterly human figure as well. Taking up with mystic John Kelly, an aging Dee and his young wife travelled Europe with Kelly in their pursuit of the supernatural. Communing with angels, Kelly claimed that he had instructions from the diving agents to share a bed with Dee’s wife; Dee reluctantly submitted, and returned to England alone, never seeing Kelly again.

This year’s Manchester Festival of the Arts saw the debut of Damon Albarn’s Dr Dee: An English Opera, from which the following song Apple Carts is taken. Albarn originally was to have worked on the opera with Alan Moore, but the would-be modern polymath and postmodern magician parted company early on, the cause apparently being frustration on Moore’s part rather than the intervention of alleged angels. I love the song; it’s so much that Maiden’s galloping biography simultaneously isn’t, humanist and spiritual, it suggests a twofold narrative, of Dee ordering a new Empire built on the mystical landmarks of England’s past (Silbury Hill), and later returning to “the kingdom of the broken heart”, much beaten and seeking solace beneath its stones, the same man who returned from Europe to a ravaged and looted library and ended his days in poverty, the new monarch James I being the antithesis of his aunt in a morbid distrust of the supernatural.



It’s Dee’s fate to have become one of popular literature’s playthings, portrayed as a spy, a wizard, a necromantic villain or a mystical guru. This side of the story interests me less than his falling in and out with Kelly, of whom the jury is itself still undecided – was it carnal interests that led him to turn Dee into a cuckold, or was his growing fame as an alchemist leading him to some drastic action to divorce himself of a man on the wane? It might depend on what book I eventually read…