I visited Thomas Jefferson's home Monticello twice last summer and I took a tour of the main building once. Partly the visit sprang from being a burgeoning American history nerd, and partly it came from reading Time Wastes Too Fast, a webcomic/essay by Maria Kalman -- a brief excerpt of which is at left.
Kalman's piece on Monticello wasn't my introduction to Jefferson as a Renaissance Man, thinker, or overall complicated dude -- but it made me wonder about seeing the interior walls of his life. It's hard to put into words, but I had the feeling I was going to get to peer into the inside of his brain in a way that reading his letters or biographies wouldn't allow.
And it's a fantastic space. Anyone more versed in architecture could tell you about the dome, the walls, the spatial layout, I'm sure -- what impressed me most was what he put on his walls.
He covered them, for the most part. With maps, with antlers and other animal parts, with books -- and with his friends.
He had paintings of people he admired -- mostly men, all white -- and as Kalman says up above, with the most important folks on the top. It reminds me of my friend Adam's novel, which features a protagonist who carries a small library of essential texts -- Thoreau is in there, along with "The Man of Steel" -- as a means of surrounding himself with the ideas that matter to him. The thoughts he hopes will shape his thoughts.
But there's a visual element to Jefferson's approach that strikes me as better (sorry Adam -- Jefferson wins again!). But Jefferson had the added benefit of knowing cats like Ben Franklin and George Washington -- he could surround himself with portraits of great thinkers, leaders and writers who were also dudes he knew socially.
And Ben Franklin's Ben Franklin, but I know some pretty smart/creative/attractive people too. Which is to say, if any of you are reading this and thinking of Christmas presents (it's early! there's time!), there is nothing I would love more than a painting of YOU. Soon I will have brand new walls to decorate!
Monday, August 16, 2010
100 Theme Challenge
In those golden days of 2008 I started a project on my MySpace blog called "100 Themes in 100 Days" -- I'm not sure what led me to the it, but it was a challenge on DeviantArt with a numbered list, and at the time that was just too attractive to pass up.
The DeviantArt idea is to draw a hundred things based on those hundred themes, but you know, you work with what you got, so I started writing on them. Over three months I made it as a far #12... but hey, grad school was winding down, romance was a-bloomin', and Sarah Palin was right around the corner. What I mean is, there was a lot going on.
I'd like to take a crack at the 100 themes again, and they're posted down below so I won't lose track of them. Initially I thought I'd start over from scratch, but there's a certain attraction in just rolling with what I wrote before. It's all an exercise anyway... so I'll be reposting the previous 12 short pieces in the next day or so, embarrassing as some of them may be two years on...
#100ThemeChallenge
1. Introduction
2. Love
3. Light
4. Dark
5. Seeking Solace
6. Break Away
7. Heaven
8. Innocence
9. Drive
10. Breathe Again
11. Memory
12. Insanity
13. Misfortune
14. Smile
15. Silence
16. Questioning
17. Blood
18. Rainbow
19. Gray
20. Fortitude
21. Vacation
22. Mother Nature
23. Cat
24. No Time
25. Trouble Lurking
26. Tears
27. Foreign
28. Sorrow
29. Happiness
30. Under the Rain
31. Flowers
32. Night
33. Expectaions
34. Stars
35. Hold My Hand
36. Precious Treasure
37. Eyes
38. Abandoned
39. Dreams
40. Rated
41. Teamwork
42. Standing Still
43. Dying
44. Two Roads
45. Illusion
46. Family
47. Creation
48. Childhood
49. Stripes
50. Breaking the Rules
51. Sport
52. Deep in Thought
53. Keeping a Secret
54. Tower
55. Waiting
56. Danger Ahead
57. Sacrifice
58. Kick in the Head
59. No Way Out
60. Rejection
61. Fairy Tale
62. Magic
63. Do Not Disturb
64. Multitasking
65. Horror
66. Traps
67. Playing the Melody
68. Hero
69. Annoyance
70. 67%
71. Obsession
72. Mischief Managed
73. I Can't
74. Are You Challenging Me?
75. Mirror
76. Broken Pieces
77. Test
78. Drink
79. Starvation
80. Words
81. Pen and Paper
82. Can You Hear Me?
83. Heal
84. Out Cold
85. Spiral
86. Seeing Red
87. Food
88. Pain
89. Through the Fire
90. Triangle
91. Drowning
92. All That I Have
93. Give Up
94. Last Hope
95. Advertisement
96. In the Storm
97. Safety First
98. Puzzle
99. Solitude
100. Relaxation
The DeviantArt idea is to draw a hundred things based on those hundred themes, but you know, you work with what you got, so I started writing on them. Over three months I made it as a far #12... but hey, grad school was winding down, romance was a-bloomin', and Sarah Palin was right around the corner. What I mean is, there was a lot going on.
I'd like to take a crack at the 100 themes again, and they're posted down below so I won't lose track of them. Initially I thought I'd start over from scratch, but there's a certain attraction in just rolling with what I wrote before. It's all an exercise anyway... so I'll be reposting the previous 12 short pieces in the next day or so, embarrassing as some of them may be two years on...
#100ThemeChallenge
1. Introduction
2. Love
3. Light
4. Dark
5. Seeking Solace
6. Break Away
7. Heaven
8. Innocence
9. Drive
10. Breathe Again
11. Memory
12. Insanity
13. Misfortune
14. Smile
15. Silence
16. Questioning
17. Blood
18. Rainbow
19. Gray
20. Fortitude
21. Vacation
22. Mother Nature
23. Cat
24. No Time
25. Trouble Lurking
26. Tears
27. Foreign
28. Sorrow
29. Happiness
30. Under the Rain
31. Flowers
32. Night
33. Expectaions
34. Stars
35. Hold My Hand
36. Precious Treasure
37. Eyes
38. Abandoned
39. Dreams
40. Rated
41. Teamwork
42. Standing Still
43. Dying
44. Two Roads
45. Illusion
46. Family
47. Creation
48. Childhood
49. Stripes
50. Breaking the Rules
51. Sport
52. Deep in Thought
53. Keeping a Secret
54. Tower
55. Waiting
56. Danger Ahead
57. Sacrifice
58. Kick in the Head
59. No Way Out
60. Rejection
61. Fairy Tale
62. Magic
63. Do Not Disturb
64. Multitasking
65. Horror
66. Traps
67. Playing the Melody
68. Hero
69. Annoyance
70. 67%
71. Obsession
72. Mischief Managed
73. I Can't
74. Are You Challenging Me?
75. Mirror
76. Broken Pieces
77. Test
78. Drink
79. Starvation
80. Words
81. Pen and Paper
82. Can You Hear Me?
83. Heal
84. Out Cold
85. Spiral
86. Seeing Red
87. Food
88. Pain
89. Through the Fire
90. Triangle
91. Drowning
92. All That I Have
93. Give Up
94. Last Hope
95. Advertisement
96. In the Storm
97. Safety First
98. Puzzle
99. Solitude
100. Relaxation
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The Creative Life
Scott Pilgrim! It was the movie of the weekend. The only thing keeping it from movie of the year were two outrageously better movies, released earlier this year*. That's not the narrative playing out in the box office tallies this weekend, but, you know...
... whatcha gonna do? It'll find the kids on cable.
But what's been resonating with me most is something I read in an LA Times article running down the soundtrack song by song. Emily Haines of Metric talks about their song "Black Sheep," performed in the movie by Envy Adams's band The Clash at Demonhead, and says it was a song they'd recorded for a prior album, but had rejected for sounding ... well, too much like Metric, I guess:
Aspects of the song, the electro aspects of the band, and the abstract lyrical visualizations, are extreme examples of certain aspects of us ... These are late-night conversations the band has had. Everyone has commentary on what you’re doing, and everyone has interpretations. But we are also looking at it. It’s not like we’re blindly going, ‘Oh, what’s this?’ We’re aware of what we have been, and what we want to be.
Producer Nigel Godrich concurred: "It’s a very common criticism when you’re making records. You say, ‘Well, this sounds like somebody trying to be us."
But my introduction to Metric was through the Scott Pilgrim movie, and as of right now it's my favorite damn song on the record. I've listened to some other Metric songs in the days since seeing the picture, and "Black Sheep" remains my favorite -- pretty much because it sounds the most Metric-like of Metric's songs. It reminds me of what Paul McCartney has said about "Yesterday" -- that he had the melody in his head for quite some time, but initially wrote it off because it seemed too good. I'd go a bit further and say it's the most McCartney-ish of Paul McCartney songs -- and his first reaction was not to trust it.
A lot of people react that way to things they make that are good -- McCartney didn't trust "Yesterday" because he thought it was so good, someone else must have written it first, and he was simply remembering. Haines and Metric didn't trust "Black Sheep" because they thought it sounded so much like their band, that it must be bad. When I was very early in writing my (still-in-progress) novel Brand New Berto, I was having a lot of fun writing about Berto and Papa on a road trip. They leave in Papa's truck to go to a wake for a relative Berto's never met -- but Papa decides to blow it off, and instead they spend the day together in Houston. And I was in the shower one morning, and I was wondering what the hell I was writing about anyway, and I thought Well hey -- what if I kill off Papa? And Berto's alone in a strange city?
(Erm -- spoiler alert there. It's okay, it happens in chapter one.)
Berto didn't really get his chance to explore the city alone, because that idea spun the entire novel off into what it's actually about -- Berto loses a dad and encounters several different father figures/mentors over the course of the book. But my first reaction to that idea was, Naw, you can't kill Papa. Papa's great! But what was actually scary was the prospect of finding my story -- or, more directly, finding what it was I wanted to talk about, and write about, and explore, for the next several years of my life. That's daunting, when you put that kind of thing into specific terms. Somewhere in, what, 1965?, Paul McCartney writes "Yesterday" and realizes -- Oh shit, this is the kind of songwriter I am. This is what I'm going to be singing about for the rest of my life -- and, I dunno, maybe Metric had that moment when they heard themselves making "Black Sheep."
It's like hearing your voice on an answering machine**. You're suddenly face to face with yourself, from a step outside of yourself.
All of which is just to say -- Metric buried "Black Sheep" under a rock, until the Scott Pilgrim folks called around looking for a song to stand in for The Clash at Demonhead. Metric gave it to them, and Nigel Goodrich said it was perfect because, "It’s not Metric. It’s a shadow of Metric."
Only that's a lesson our man Pilgrim learned when he faced Nega-Scott -- the shadow's you. You can't turn away from it, you can only take it out to brunch.
(and I realize that Michael Cera is getting on everyone's nerves, but srsly d00dz -- the movie is unique and a hell of a lot of fun. The closest thing I've seen that compares is Kung Fu Hustle.)
*Winter's Bone and Inception, in that order.
**There used to be answering machines!
... whatcha gonna do? It'll find the kids on cable.
But what's been resonating with me most is something I read in an LA Times article running down the soundtrack song by song. Emily Haines of Metric talks about their song "Black Sheep," performed in the movie by Envy Adams's band The Clash at Demonhead, and says it was a song they'd recorded for a prior album, but had rejected for sounding ... well, too much like Metric, I guess:
Aspects of the song, the electro aspects of the band, and the abstract lyrical visualizations, are extreme examples of certain aspects of us ... These are late-night conversations the band has had. Everyone has commentary on what you’re doing, and everyone has interpretations. But we are also looking at it. It’s not like we’re blindly going, ‘Oh, what’s this?’ We’re aware of what we have been, and what we want to be.
Producer Nigel Godrich concurred: "It’s a very common criticism when you’re making records. You say, ‘Well, this sounds like somebody trying to be us."
But my introduction to Metric was through the Scott Pilgrim movie, and as of right now it's my favorite damn song on the record. I've listened to some other Metric songs in the days since seeing the picture, and "Black Sheep" remains my favorite -- pretty much because it sounds the most Metric-like of Metric's songs. It reminds me of what Paul McCartney has said about "Yesterday" -- that he had the melody in his head for quite some time, but initially wrote it off because it seemed too good. I'd go a bit further and say it's the most McCartney-ish of Paul McCartney songs -- and his first reaction was not to trust it.
A lot of people react that way to things they make that are good -- McCartney didn't trust "Yesterday" because he thought it was so good, someone else must have written it first, and he was simply remembering. Haines and Metric didn't trust "Black Sheep" because they thought it sounded so much like their band, that it must be bad. When I was very early in writing my (still-in-progress) novel Brand New Berto, I was having a lot of fun writing about Berto and Papa on a road trip. They leave in Papa's truck to go to a wake for a relative Berto's never met -- but Papa decides to blow it off, and instead they spend the day together in Houston. And I was in the shower one morning, and I was wondering what the hell I was writing about anyway, and I thought Well hey -- what if I kill off Papa? And Berto's alone in a strange city?
(Erm -- spoiler alert there. It's okay, it happens in chapter one.)
Berto didn't really get his chance to explore the city alone, because that idea spun the entire novel off into what it's actually about -- Berto loses a dad and encounters several different father figures/mentors over the course of the book. But my first reaction to that idea was, Naw, you can't kill Papa. Papa's great! But what was actually scary was the prospect of finding my story -- or, more directly, finding what it was I wanted to talk about, and write about, and explore, for the next several years of my life. That's daunting, when you put that kind of thing into specific terms. Somewhere in, what, 1965?, Paul McCartney writes "Yesterday" and realizes -- Oh shit, this is the kind of songwriter I am. This is what I'm going to be singing about for the rest of my life -- and, I dunno, maybe Metric had that moment when they heard themselves making "Black Sheep."
It's like hearing your voice on an answering machine**. You're suddenly face to face with yourself, from a step outside of yourself.
All of which is just to say -- Metric buried "Black Sheep" under a rock, until the Scott Pilgrim folks called around looking for a song to stand in for The Clash at Demonhead. Metric gave it to them, and Nigel Goodrich said it was perfect because, "It’s not Metric. It’s a shadow of Metric."
Only that's a lesson our man Pilgrim learned when he faced Nega-Scott -- the shadow's you. You can't turn away from it, you can only take it out to brunch.
(and I realize that Michael Cera is getting on everyone's nerves, but srsly d00dz -- the movie is unique and a hell of a lot of fun. The closest thing I've seen that compares is Kung Fu Hustle.)
*Winter's Bone and Inception, in that order.
**There used to be answering machines!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
True Neutral!
I Am A: True Neutral Halfling Sorcerer (4th Level)
Ability Scores:
Strength-12
Dexterity-10
Constitution-13
Intelligence-15
Wisdom-13
Charisma-14
Alignment:
True Neutral A true neutral character does what seems to be a good idea. He doesn't feel strongly one way or the other when it comes to good vs. evil or law vs. chaos. Most true neutral characters exhibit a lack of conviction or bias rather than a commitment to neutrality. Such a character thinks of good as better than evil after all, he would rather have good neighbors and rulers than evil ones. Still, he's not personally committed to upholding good in any abstract or universal way. Some true neutral characters, on the other hand, commit themselves philosophically to neutrality. They see good, evil, law, and chaos as prejudices and dangerous extremes. They advocate the middle way of neutrality as the best, most balanced road in the long run. True neutral is the best alignment you can be because it means you act naturally, without prejudice or compulsion. However, true neutral can be a dangerous alignment because it represents apathy, indifference, and a lack of conviction.
Race:
Halflings are clever, capable and resourceful survivors. They are notoriously curious and show a daring that many larger people can't match. They can be lured by wealth but tend to spend rather than hoard. They prefer practical clothing and would rather wear a comfortable shirt than jewelry. Halflings stand about 3 feet tall and commonly live to see 150.
Class:
Sorcerers are arcane spellcasters who manipulate magic energy with imagination and talent rather than studious discipline. They have no books, no mentors, no theories just raw power that they direct at will. Sorcerers know fewer spells than wizards do and acquire them more slowly, but they can cast individual spells more often and have no need to prepare their incantations ahead of time. Also unlike wizards, sorcerers cannot specialize in a school of magic. Since sorcerers gain their powers without undergoing the years of rigorous study that wizards go through, they have more time to learn fighting skills and are proficient with simple weapons. Charisma is very important for sorcerers; the higher their value in this ability, the higher the spell level they can cast.
Find out What Kind of Dungeons and Dragons Character Would You Be?, courtesy of Easydamus (e-mail)
Ability Scores:
Strength-12
Dexterity-10
Constitution-13
Intelligence-15
Wisdom-13
Charisma-14
Alignment:
True Neutral A true neutral character does what seems to be a good idea. He doesn't feel strongly one way or the other when it comes to good vs. evil or law vs. chaos. Most true neutral characters exhibit a lack of conviction or bias rather than a commitment to neutrality. Such a character thinks of good as better than evil after all, he would rather have good neighbors and rulers than evil ones. Still, he's not personally committed to upholding good in any abstract or universal way. Some true neutral characters, on the other hand, commit themselves philosophically to neutrality. They see good, evil, law, and chaos as prejudices and dangerous extremes. They advocate the middle way of neutrality as the best, most balanced road in the long run. True neutral is the best alignment you can be because it means you act naturally, without prejudice or compulsion. However, true neutral can be a dangerous alignment because it represents apathy, indifference, and a lack of conviction.
Race:
Halflings are clever, capable and resourceful survivors. They are notoriously curious and show a daring that many larger people can't match. They can be lured by wealth but tend to spend rather than hoard. They prefer practical clothing and would rather wear a comfortable shirt than jewelry. Halflings stand about 3 feet tall and commonly live to see 150.
Class:
Sorcerers are arcane spellcasters who manipulate magic energy with imagination and talent rather than studious discipline. They have no books, no mentors, no theories just raw power that they direct at will. Sorcerers know fewer spells than wizards do and acquire them more slowly, but they can cast individual spells more often and have no need to prepare their incantations ahead of time. Also unlike wizards, sorcerers cannot specialize in a school of magic. Since sorcerers gain their powers without undergoing the years of rigorous study that wizards go through, they have more time to learn fighting skills and are proficient with simple weapons. Charisma is very important for sorcerers; the higher their value in this ability, the higher the spell level they can cast.
Find out What Kind of Dungeons and Dragons Character Would You Be?, courtesy of Easydamus (e-mail)
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
An Exercise in World Building: New Phoenix
NEW PHOENIX
A frontier planet on the edge of inhabited space, New Phoenix was founded in (xxxx) by missionaries from (planetname) to escape the religious persecution they faced at home. While some missionaries remained behind, they quickly became a marginalized and repressed political afterthought -- the Pilgrims of New Phoenix, as they came to be known, were left to chart their people’s course in the galaxy.
Led by Simone Montreaux, the Pilgrims were initially funded by (a corporation on Planet Y), and were intended to be but the first wave of a massive colonization effort on New Phoenix. The Pilgrims’ craft, the Reconnoiter, was a subluminal long-voyage craft built and launched before the people of (Planet Y) had access to FTL communications. By the time the Reconnoiter landed on New Phoenix and established a surface communications disk, however, they were able to receive FTL transmissions that had been broadcast from Planet Y since their departure. They discovered (pieced together?) that a number of catastrophes had befallen their homeworld since their craft’s launch, and that not only would no further colonists be sent to New Phoenix, but the remaining human population on Planet Y had been reduced to a non-spacefaring, pre-industrial age civilization. Messages they sent back to Planet Y went unanswered and, in fact, unreceived.
Initially colonization on New Phoenix itself went according to plan. Reconnoiter landed on the surface of the planet and was deconstructed to form the basis for Reconnoiter City, the colony’s first outpost and capital. (There was some initial debate upon learning the fate of Planet Y’s people concerning returning home, or perhaps simply not grounding Reconnoiter and attempting to establish the colony another way, thereby giving them a possible route off-planet if it was deemed necessary, but ultimately they decided to follow the colonization plan and commit to the grounding.) The planet’s surface was harsh and desert-like, requiring terraforming techniques in order to be made truly ideal for farming; while initial and rudimentary terraforming equipment was shipped on the Reconnoiter, the intent was to ship a separate terraforming vessel, one that would remain permanently in orbit, in a second wave of ships that was never launched. Thus, the Pilgrims were forced to make due with cloud seeding aircraft and high yield, low moisture crops that, though viable on New Phoenix’s surface, were not intended to do more than help establish the initial colony.
Starvation and sickness was a problem in the colony’s early years…..
Initially established as an oligarchy, with decisions made by a council appointed by Simone Montreaux, Reconnoiter City had descended into a fascist regime with a singular head by the end of Montreaux’s life. Her controversial death (assassination? Unexpected suicide?) led to a brief but far-reaching outbreak of violence before control of the city was seized by Walker Percy, the head of the ((Pilgrims’ Military Organization)). By this time the Pilgrims had spread beyond Reconnoiter City, with most of the population living on secluded farms, but with six other permanent settlements that, though they did not rival Reconnoiter City in terms of size, were nonetheless major centers of trade and religious worship. Walker Percy’s rule effectively ended at Reconnoiter City’s walls, and the other cities were left to develop, thrive or fall on their own accord.
Several generations passed before the ruins of a previous sapient civilization was found on the surface of New Phoenix. Ruins carved into the rock proved to be burial tombs by and large, but some evidence of trade centers and roads were also found, sometimes in the same places as where the Pilgrims had settled and established regular routes of transportation. That their existence had not been noted before was curious, but not altogether surprising. There had been no evidence of, or reason to suspect, that New Phoenix had ever been the home of another intelligent species.
Carvings in the tombs showed what appeared to be a reptilian race of two-legged humanoids who wore jewellery and headwear, but otherwise no evidence of clothing. Empty containers slightly smaller than human-size were discovered in some of the tombs, but they were otherwise empty of remains. The reasons for this were never discovered or ascertained by the Pilgrims.
Despite the occasional outbreak of violence between cities, the terrain of New Phoenix and the difficulty of day to day life even outside of warfare prevented any long-term campaigns of war. Nonetheless, within a hundred generations the Pilgrims civilization had dwindled below sustainable levels. Small pockets of humanity may remain to this day, most likely descended from Pilgrims that eventually moved below ground, but it is expected that New Phoenix will be completely devoid of human life within another four generations.
ERAS:
Colonization
-After arrival of the Pilgrims and the establishment of Reconnoiter City, during the rule of Simone Montreaux. Gradually becomes a totalitarian, religion-based rule. Other settlements appear over time, usually founded by leaders who have fallen out of favor with Montreaux.
Wild Years
-After Montreaux’s death, during the generations of New Phoenix’s slow fall. Many settlements of varying size and sustainability. The ruins of the previous civilization are discovered. Possible interaction with megainsects (unintelligent) that live beneath the surface.
Desolation
-After the collapse of the Pilgrims’ civilization. Remaining humans live below ground, are often insane or small multi-family units. They may even be unaware of any other human survivors on the planet, or even of the planet’s own history. Reconnoiter City itself is practically reclaimed by the harsh wilderness at this point.
NOTES:
-desert planet
-giant monsters, underground
-scattered settlements -- none above ground?
-ruins of such exist, however.
-giant star, two other planets: one outer gas giant, one inner small hot rocky world.
-crosses gas giant’s orbit? Allowing transfer of large gas-dragon-type creatures?
-ruins of a prior civilization found? Just before a catastrophe of some sort?
-religion of the Pilgrims -- Mormon based?
FORGET IT:
((but moreso was the existence of unknown and unexpected ultrafauna that lived beneath the planet’s surface. Massive insect-like creatures that existed in tunnels and mountainsides, the creatures would spend several years -- sometimes several generations -- in a kind of hibernation, only to awaken without warning, destroying crops and sometimes attacking and destroying entire settlements. Poisons were sometimes effective in killing the creatures, or furthering their hibernation, but physical weapons proved unable to pierce their thick exoskeletons.))
A frontier planet on the edge of inhabited space, New Phoenix was founded in (xxxx) by missionaries from (planetname) to escape the religious persecution they faced at home. While some missionaries remained behind, they quickly became a marginalized and repressed political afterthought -- the Pilgrims of New Phoenix, as they came to be known, were left to chart their people’s course in the galaxy.
Led by Simone Montreaux, the Pilgrims were initially funded by (a corporation on Planet Y), and were intended to be but the first wave of a massive colonization effort on New Phoenix. The Pilgrims’ craft, the Reconnoiter, was a subluminal long-voyage craft built and launched before the people of (Planet Y) had access to FTL communications. By the time the Reconnoiter landed on New Phoenix and established a surface communications disk, however, they were able to receive FTL transmissions that had been broadcast from Planet Y since their departure. They discovered (pieced together?) that a number of catastrophes had befallen their homeworld since their craft’s launch, and that not only would no further colonists be sent to New Phoenix, but the remaining human population on Planet Y had been reduced to a non-spacefaring, pre-industrial age civilization. Messages they sent back to Planet Y went unanswered and, in fact, unreceived.
Initially colonization on New Phoenix itself went according to plan. Reconnoiter landed on the surface of the planet and was deconstructed to form the basis for Reconnoiter City, the colony’s first outpost and capital. (There was some initial debate upon learning the fate of Planet Y’s people concerning returning home, or perhaps simply not grounding Reconnoiter and attempting to establish the colony another way, thereby giving them a possible route off-planet if it was deemed necessary, but ultimately they decided to follow the colonization plan and commit to the grounding.) The planet’s surface was harsh and desert-like, requiring terraforming techniques in order to be made truly ideal for farming; while initial and rudimentary terraforming equipment was shipped on the Reconnoiter, the intent was to ship a separate terraforming vessel, one that would remain permanently in orbit, in a second wave of ships that was never launched. Thus, the Pilgrims were forced to make due with cloud seeding aircraft and high yield, low moisture crops that, though viable on New Phoenix’s surface, were not intended to do more than help establish the initial colony.
Starvation and sickness was a problem in the colony’s early years…..
Initially established as an oligarchy, with decisions made by a council appointed by Simone Montreaux, Reconnoiter City had descended into a fascist regime with a singular head by the end of Montreaux’s life. Her controversial death (assassination? Unexpected suicide?) led to a brief but far-reaching outbreak of violence before control of the city was seized by Walker Percy, the head of the ((Pilgrims’ Military Organization)). By this time the Pilgrims had spread beyond Reconnoiter City, with most of the population living on secluded farms, but with six other permanent settlements that, though they did not rival Reconnoiter City in terms of size, were nonetheless major centers of trade and religious worship. Walker Percy’s rule effectively ended at Reconnoiter City’s walls, and the other cities were left to develop, thrive or fall on their own accord.
Several generations passed before the ruins of a previous sapient civilization was found on the surface of New Phoenix. Ruins carved into the rock proved to be burial tombs by and large, but some evidence of trade centers and roads were also found, sometimes in the same places as where the Pilgrims had settled and established regular routes of transportation. That their existence had not been noted before was curious, but not altogether surprising. There had been no evidence of, or reason to suspect, that New Phoenix had ever been the home of another intelligent species.
Carvings in the tombs showed what appeared to be a reptilian race of two-legged humanoids who wore jewellery and headwear, but otherwise no evidence of clothing. Empty containers slightly smaller than human-size were discovered in some of the tombs, but they were otherwise empty of remains. The reasons for this were never discovered or ascertained by the Pilgrims.
Despite the occasional outbreak of violence between cities, the terrain of New Phoenix and the difficulty of day to day life even outside of warfare prevented any long-term campaigns of war. Nonetheless, within a hundred generations the Pilgrims civilization had dwindled below sustainable levels. Small pockets of humanity may remain to this day, most likely descended from Pilgrims that eventually moved below ground, but it is expected that New Phoenix will be completely devoid of human life within another four generations.
ERAS:
Colonization
-After arrival of the Pilgrims and the establishment of Reconnoiter City, during the rule of Simone Montreaux. Gradually becomes a totalitarian, religion-based rule. Other settlements appear over time, usually founded by leaders who have fallen out of favor with Montreaux.
Wild Years
-After Montreaux’s death, during the generations of New Phoenix’s slow fall. Many settlements of varying size and sustainability. The ruins of the previous civilization are discovered. Possible interaction with megainsects (unintelligent) that live beneath the surface.
Desolation
-After the collapse of the Pilgrims’ civilization. Remaining humans live below ground, are often insane or small multi-family units. They may even be unaware of any other human survivors on the planet, or even of the planet’s own history. Reconnoiter City itself is practically reclaimed by the harsh wilderness at this point.
NOTES:
-desert planet
-giant monsters, underground
-scattered settlements -- none above ground?
-ruins of such exist, however.
-giant star, two other planets: one outer gas giant, one inner small hot rocky world.
-crosses gas giant’s orbit? Allowing transfer of large gas-dragon-type creatures?
-ruins of a prior civilization found? Just before a catastrophe of some sort?
-religion of the Pilgrims -- Mormon based?
FORGET IT:
((but moreso was the existence of unknown and unexpected ultrafauna that lived beneath the planet’s surface. Massive insect-like creatures that existed in tunnels and mountainsides, the creatures would spend several years -- sometimes several generations -- in a kind of hibernation, only to awaken without warning, destroying crops and sometimes attacking and destroying entire settlements. Poisons were sometimes effective in killing the creatures, or furthering their hibernation, but physical weapons proved unable to pierce their thick exoskeletons.))
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Poe Toaster stays home, drinks entire bottle of cognac
Edgar Allen Poe -- American author, poet, drunkard and creep. Little known fact? He is dead.
Correction: people in Baltimore know that Poe is dead, because because when they're not busy dealing drugs, wiretapping people who are dealing drugs, being murdered in prison by associates of their crime-lord uncle, or bemoaning the state of the police department they work for while getting drunk down by the railroad tracks, the citizenry of Baltimore, Maryland are gathering en masse around both of Edgar Allen Poe's graves*.
And once a year for the past 60 years, on January 19th, a mysterious stranger has placed three roses and half a bottle of cognac on Poe's grave to commemorate the author's birthday. He's never been caught in the act, despite dozens (literally! dozens!) of Poe-Toaster-Watchers who gather there every year to catch a glimpse of the anonymous Poe Toaster.
Only this year, the Poe Toaster Didn't Toast. Thirty-six devotees (literally! dozens!) gathered outside of the church cemetery in downtown Baltimore to catch a glimpse of the never-before-seen Toaster, but at 5:30am Jeff Jerome, the Poe House and Museum curator, broke the news that the Toaster, who had always arrived and departed in the dead of night for the previous sixty years, had not arrived. Perhaps, like Santa Claus, Zeus, and Jesus, if you do not believe in him, he ceases to exist?
In previous years the Toaster left notes along with the roses and cognac, including one in 1993 that read "the torch will be passed." In 1999 a note implied that the original Toaster had died, and the tradition had been passed on to a son.
The Baltimore Sun quoted Jerome as saying "I was very annoyed" that the Toaster didn't show up as tradition dictated. The Sun failed to quote Edgar Allen Poe's ghost as saying, "There is really no need for such a classy and touching annual tradition, as I am a dude who married my thirteen year old cousin, and then died choking on my own vomit in the street."
*That's right, Edgar Allen Poe has two graves in one graveyard. The next time you complain about having only one grave, ask yourself: "when's the last time *I* concocted a hoax about the first air balloon to fly across Atlantic Ocean, called it 'Mr. Monck Mason's Flying Machine!!!' and had it published as news in a major New York City newspaper?" The answer is, unless you are Edgar Allen, you have never done this.
Correction: people in Baltimore know that Poe is dead, because because when they're not busy dealing drugs, wiretapping people who are dealing drugs, being murdered in prison by associates of their crime-lord uncle, or bemoaning the state of the police department they work for while getting drunk down by the railroad tracks, the citizenry of Baltimore, Maryland are gathering en masse around both of Edgar Allen Poe's graves*.
And once a year for the past 60 years, on January 19th, a mysterious stranger has placed three roses and half a bottle of cognac on Poe's grave to commemorate the author's birthday. He's never been caught in the act, despite dozens (literally! dozens!) of Poe-Toaster-Watchers who gather there every year to catch a glimpse of the anonymous Poe Toaster.
Only this year, the Poe Toaster Didn't Toast. Thirty-six devotees (literally! dozens!) gathered outside of the church cemetery in downtown Baltimore to catch a glimpse of the never-before-seen Toaster, but at 5:30am Jeff Jerome, the Poe House and Museum curator, broke the news that the Toaster, who had always arrived and departed in the dead of night for the previous sixty years, had not arrived. Perhaps, like Santa Claus, Zeus, and Jesus, if you do not believe in him, he ceases to exist?
In previous years the Toaster left notes along with the roses and cognac, including one in 1993 that read "the torch will be passed." In 1999 a note implied that the original Toaster had died, and the tradition had been passed on to a son.
The Baltimore Sun quoted Jerome as saying "I was very annoyed" that the Toaster didn't show up as tradition dictated. The Sun failed to quote Edgar Allen Poe's ghost as saying, "There is really no need for such a classy and touching annual tradition, as I am a dude who married my thirteen year old cousin, and then died choking on my own vomit in the street."
*That's right, Edgar Allen Poe has two graves in one graveyard. The next time you complain about having only one grave, ask yourself: "when's the last time *I* concocted a hoax about the first air balloon to fly across Atlantic Ocean, called it 'Mr. Monck Mason's Flying Machine!!!' and had it published as news in a major New York City newspaper?" The answer is, unless you are Edgar Allen, you have never done this.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Where I'm At, Fall '09 edition
Movies I want to see:
-Paranormal Activity
-new(ish) Coen Brothers
-um.
Things I want to eat:
-Sandwiches
-Burritos. Burritos that I have not made myself.
-Pancakes!
Music I want to listen to:
-"Suedehead" is on right now, which is pretty good.
-early, skiffle Beatles.
-later, Get Back Beatles.
TV I've been watching:
-Battlestar Galactica, again. I think this is my third or fourth time through season 2.
-In Treatment, season one. We're almost done!
-Pete & Pete. I don't dig the second season so much, but the first is fantastically weird.
Things I have been thinking about:
-The End of the World, in a fictional sense.
-Choosing your own adventures.
-Echo Park.
-Writing fellowships.
-POD magazines
-Life 2
Things I have been working on:
-webcomics
-movies
-novel, draft 2.
-Paranormal Activity
-new(ish) Coen Brothers
-um.
Things I want to eat:
-Sandwiches
-Burritos. Burritos that I have not made myself.
-Pancakes!
Music I want to listen to:
-"Suedehead" is on right now, which is pretty good.
-early, skiffle Beatles.
-later, Get Back Beatles.
TV I've been watching:
-Battlestar Galactica, again. I think this is my third or fourth time through season 2.
-In Treatment, season one. We're almost done!
-Pete & Pete. I don't dig the second season so much, but the first is fantastically weird.
Things I have been thinking about:
-The End of the World, in a fictional sense.
-Choosing your own adventures.
-Echo Park.
-Writing fellowships.
-POD magazines
-Life 2
Things I have been working on:
-webcomics
-movies
-novel, draft 2.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Shared Worlds
Thinking of shared worlds again ... playing Fallout 3 and a new D&D 4E campaign has me itching to world-build. I think my perfect vision is a wiki based around a concept that would be split into different eras or specialties -- and four or five writers would contribute, each specializing in a corner of the universe that may or may not overlap with the others. One of the basic rules would be that whatever you did had to build on what someone else did, but not negate it.
It would have to be a group that worked together well, that was keyed into the same ideas and wanted similar things from the project. There would bound to be disagreements, but hopefully the wouldn't turn nasty, and would ultimately lead to something even better than what was there before.
The ultimate goal would be to have a world that any of the contributors could then set stories within -- novels, screenplays, games or whatever they wanted to write.
I started something with this basic idea with Pato -- god, about a year ago now. But I haven't ever been entirely comfortable with the "hardware" issue -- with the wikis that we found, and with my own capabilities of building it. So I've tended to let the actual wiki sit, even as I keep taking notes on the world and even writing stories set within that world.
Anyway. I've got airships and tentacles on the brain these days.
It would have to be a group that worked together well, that was keyed into the same ideas and wanted similar things from the project. There would bound to be disagreements, but hopefully the wouldn't turn nasty, and would ultimately lead to something even better than what was there before.
The ultimate goal would be to have a world that any of the contributors could then set stories within -- novels, screenplays, games or whatever they wanted to write.
I started something with this basic idea with Pato -- god, about a year ago now. But I haven't ever been entirely comfortable with the "hardware" issue -- with the wikis that we found, and with my own capabilities of building it. So I've tended to let the actual wiki sit, even as I keep taking notes on the world and even writing stories set within that world.
Anyway. I've got airships and tentacles on the brain these days.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Everything I Know About Time I Learned From Steve Miller
I was just reading A Brief History of Nearly Everything, particularly a chapter that dealt with the age of the universe -- where I'm at right now some scientist or other has speculated that the universe is 20 billion years old. And it got me to thinking -- probably too simplistically -- but it got me to thinking, how can we really think about "years" on a scale like that?
Because a "year" is the time it takes for the earth to travel around the sun. But if the earth is, what, 4.5 billion years old, or something like that -- how can we measure years before the earth existed? If there was no earth to travel around the sun, I mean. If "time" is relative to gravity, if time is relative to movement through space -- I don't know if we can think about "20 billion years" once we're talking about something off of the planet earth, can we? I mean relative to us, sure -- it takes 76 years for Haley's Comet to swing within viewing distance of the earth. But that's 76 years for *us* -- if we were to attach a pocket watch to Haley's Comet, would it calculate the same amount of time?
I think I've read that if you take an airplane from, say, New York to Los Angeles -- when you get off that plane you're a little younger than the folks you left behind in New York, by virtue of the speed you've traveled through space. Space meaning physical space, not outer space. So if even *that* movement alters one's own perception of time...
I guess ultimately what I'm saying is, how can we talk about "20 billion years" when there haven't BEEN 20 billion years -- meaning, 20 billion passages around the sun by the earth?
And somewhat separate -- what if the earth has made some passages around the sun, or WILL make some passages around the sun, either faster or slower? Is it still a "year"? Are we really talking about "20 billion theoretical revolutions around the sun"? We already have a concept of a "Martian day," since it's something like 23.5 hours as compared to our 24 hours ...
I realize I'm thinking myself in circles, and I just got out of bed to type this as a means to not forgetting all about it in the morning. I'm not a stupid guy, but once you start talking about physics or astronomy I get easily confused. I'll just post this, move it to the back of my brain for now, and then go back to reading.
Because a "year" is the time it takes for the earth to travel around the sun. But if the earth is, what, 4.5 billion years old, or something like that -- how can we measure years before the earth existed? If there was no earth to travel around the sun, I mean. If "time" is relative to gravity, if time is relative to movement through space -- I don't know if we can think about "20 billion years" once we're talking about something off of the planet earth, can we? I mean relative to us, sure -- it takes 76 years for Haley's Comet to swing within viewing distance of the earth. But that's 76 years for *us* -- if we were to attach a pocket watch to Haley's Comet, would it calculate the same amount of time?
I think I've read that if you take an airplane from, say, New York to Los Angeles -- when you get off that plane you're a little younger than the folks you left behind in New York, by virtue of the speed you've traveled through space. Space meaning physical space, not outer space. So if even *that* movement alters one's own perception of time...
I guess ultimately what I'm saying is, how can we talk about "20 billion years" when there haven't BEEN 20 billion years -- meaning, 20 billion passages around the sun by the earth?
And somewhat separate -- what if the earth has made some passages around the sun, or WILL make some passages around the sun, either faster or slower? Is it still a "year"? Are we really talking about "20 billion theoretical revolutions around the sun"? We already have a concept of a "Martian day," since it's something like 23.5 hours as compared to our 24 hours ...
I realize I'm thinking myself in circles, and I just got out of bed to type this as a means to not forgetting all about it in the morning. I'm not a stupid guy, but once you start talking about physics or astronomy I get easily confused. I'll just post this, move it to the back of my brain for now, and then go back to reading.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Sure, but who wouldn't be?
"Let me start by saying the women of my generation have a reason to be fired up."
This is what you said in a dream. Not to me -- I read them in an interview. Your face (and your hair, and your mouth -- you wore a lot of lipstick in the photo, if you'll forgive my saying so) was on the cover of American Legion, which I think is a magazine my dad gets from his union. There were pictures inside, too -- you with all of the women of your family, most of whom I have never seen in life, and another where you are sitting down next to a white picket fence, using it to brace yourself as you stretch one leg high in the air and flash and embarrassed smile at the camera, presumably for being photographed so in the first place. It's an infectious and endearing smile. There's a young man in the foreground, stealing a glance at you. I don't feel jealous. I think, "Yeah, no kidding."
In the background of that photo -- or perhaps in an accompanying photograph is a seaside town on a hill, with a clock tower, an old movie theater, streets that are winding and not wide. The photo caption describes this town as a "lazy seaside" place you pass through every day by train, and that it's come to have special meaning to you.
On the magazine's cover you are proclaimed as the face of a new movement of young women, one that inspires more and more to "receive catechism." I'm not sure if that even makes sense as a phrase -- I get easily confused when it comes to religious ceremonies. I understand that it is (or was meant to be) different from communion. But then again, maybe not. In any event, the article's author proclaims that, as charming and true as you are, she was not convinced to forgive God on your account.
I didn't find out anymore, I'm afraid. I settled down with the magazine but woke up after that first line: "Let me start by saying the women of my generation have a lot to be fired up about." And then, "Let me find you the women of North Kokomo, Indiana," at which point I believed you played a piece of audio for the interviewer. At this point I was probably a little jealous.
This is what you said in a dream. Not to me -- I read them in an interview. Your face (and your hair, and your mouth -- you wore a lot of lipstick in the photo, if you'll forgive my saying so) was on the cover of American Legion, which I think is a magazine my dad gets from his union. There were pictures inside, too -- you with all of the women of your family, most of whom I have never seen in life, and another where you are sitting down next to a white picket fence, using it to brace yourself as you stretch one leg high in the air and flash and embarrassed smile at the camera, presumably for being photographed so in the first place. It's an infectious and endearing smile. There's a young man in the foreground, stealing a glance at you. I don't feel jealous. I think, "Yeah, no kidding."
In the background of that photo -- or perhaps in an accompanying photograph is a seaside town on a hill, with a clock tower, an old movie theater, streets that are winding and not wide. The photo caption describes this town as a "lazy seaside" place you pass through every day by train, and that it's come to have special meaning to you.
On the magazine's cover you are proclaimed as the face of a new movement of young women, one that inspires more and more to "receive catechism." I'm not sure if that even makes sense as a phrase -- I get easily confused when it comes to religious ceremonies. I understand that it is (or was meant to be) different from communion. But then again, maybe not. In any event, the article's author proclaims that, as charming and true as you are, she was not convinced to forgive God on your account.
I didn't find out anymore, I'm afraid. I settled down with the magazine but woke up after that first line: "Let me start by saying the women of my generation have a lot to be fired up about." And then, "Let me find you the women of North Kokomo, Indiana," at which point I believed you played a piece of audio for the interviewer. At this point I was probably a little jealous.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Interlude 2
There was something I wanted to share with you, but it doesn't seem like I really can. (But then that's what this blog has become, yeah?) It would seem like I was being petty, or that I felt things that I really didn't, or that I didn't feel things that I really did.
I won't quote it exactly, since that's not the sort of thing I believe in tonight. But it's a sentiment expressed in Michael Ondaatje's DIVISADERDO: "Romance is romance, and not a promise of permanence."
And I guess that's true. I guess objectively I believe that. And I guess (all the same) that you (once again, as always, I) never really think it will happen to (me).
I won't quote it exactly, since that's not the sort of thing I believe in tonight. But it's a sentiment expressed in Michael Ondaatje's DIVISADERDO: "Romance is romance, and not a promise of permanence."
And I guess that's true. I guess objectively I believe that. And I guess (all the same) that you (once again, as always, I) never really think it will happen to (me).
Thursday, April 09, 2009
>>Interlude<<
Last night I had a dream that I moved back to my old house in downtown Oakland, and all the old cats had been dropped off there as well. My old/new roommate said my ex-girlfriend had left them there the day before, saying it was for "a month or two."
I was really happy to see Tubby again. I picked him up and it still felt like carrying a baby horse.
But then I kept finding pee everywhere -- my bed, the floor, behind books. And when I woke up it was one of those take-a-moment-to-remember-it-wasn't-a-dream reactions. And though it would have been nice to hang out with Wolf again, it was also nice to not have to look out for pee on my blankets.
I was really happy to see Tubby again. I picked him up and it still felt like carrying a baby horse.
But then I kept finding pee everywhere -- my bed, the floor, behind books. And when I woke up it was one of those take-a-moment-to-remember-it-wasn't-a-dream reactions. And though it would have been nice to hang out with Wolf again, it was also nice to not have to look out for pee on my blankets.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Dear, part two
Back to the car for a minute...
One of the things BSG left me with was this idea of species memory. SPOILER ALERT if you're thinking of watching the show, but the ending basically tells us that we have neckties and democracy and a legal system because, 150,000 years ago the human race as WE know it was born from a human/cylon hybrid baby.
(Look: it's a good show.)
And I'm not so much talking about "specie memory" as a scientific true fact -- I'm more interested in its neatosity factor, its narrative potential, and the way it makes my brain tingle. Lord knows I think enough about spaceships and dinosaurs as I walk around the world, but I haven't really thought about -- you know -- cavemen very much. As individuals with day to to day dramas and epic troubles. And surely there were wars, there were loves, there dramas among people who were literally the first humans (or human-like) on Earth. They had art, and the ability to perceive the real world through art. And that's enough for me to believe that they qualify souls worthy of consideration from those of us left today. We've had language for something like 40,000 years, but we've had history for, what, 5,000 years? There have been tools for about two and a half million years, and those are just the ones that we've found.
And when I think about human history (or human pre-history) in that vastness of time, my first impulse is to feel sad for all the names we don't know anymore, the sagas -- real or imagined or metaphorical -- that are lost. But that's a selfish way to think of it, yeah? They are still things that happened, whether I know about them or not. There's plenty of history that happened, and was written down, that I don't know simply because I haven't read the right books. And I don't get sad about that. So...
I dunno, a lot of this feels like college-age navel gazing. But I can imagine you nodding and smiling as I talk this out, happy to read what's going on in my head, happy to watch me work it out and articulate it. And that's not embarrassing at all.
My second impulse is to be so very pleased that it happened at all, to remember that there's so much happening right now that's being experience by those there to experience it. Something Dr. Baltar says near the middle of season four jumps out at me: "I love living. I really do. I really, really love living." I like it too.
While I was driving I also saw something that caused another piece of my novel to click into place, which is a much appreciated gift, and really the whole reason I wanted to be alone in a car for ten hours in the first place. It was grafitti on an overpass, the kind you have to hang upside down from the top to write (or at least, that's how I imagine it has to be written), and it was simple, with no embellishing flourishes and no punctuation, and it said I LOVE YOU AMY and I thought, well damn right you do.
Ethan is a junior whose girlfriend Amy has dumped him. She's reconnected with a middle school love she mostly talks to on the phone and sits in food courts with, and Ethan's been trying to sort out how to win her back. It's a relationship between supporting characters, and it's something I've known was going to happen all along, but I was never quite sure how much of it was going to go on the page. There are plenty of things I'm secretly proud of myself for with regard to the book, and one of them is the rather involved and evolving lives the supporting characters have that Berto never even finds out about, since he's so stuck in his own head. But Ethan and Amy's relationship troubles are something I wanted him to encounter, but I didn't really have a sense for how they would wrap up, or what role Berto might have in their conclusion. But seeing that simple spraypainted line, I thought of my ol' pal Adrian, who went on a spraypainting spree after his high school girlfriend broke up with him. He sprayed "KLF" over a Pepsi sign on 131 going toward Day Heights, and I remember -- we were just out of high school at the time, so I was 18 or 19 -- driving back to Clifton from visiting my folks and feeling so Tall whenever I saw those three letters over that rusty old Pepsi sign. Someone I knew had changed the landscape of familiar ground, even in a very small way, and I liked that.
So, "I Love You Amy." I immediately thought of our man Berto being driven in a car (he's a lad of fifteen), or maybe out riding his bike (he hasn't yet, but I imagine he's the sort who would like to range far on two wheels), and discovering a message written to someone he knows (Amy is his cousin, remember?), by someone else he knows, and I imagine it opening up entire rooms in his brain he'd never even known were there. I imagine Berto buying his own can of spray paint and spraying I Love You Amy on the linoleum floors of his high school, not directly to help Ethan, but because he has the power to do it. He can alter his world very easily and change the way people walk on the floor beneath their feet.
They probably won't think to write it down, and somehow that floor will be torn up or the school will fall down around it, and maybe by then no one will remember or no one will care that a boy once loved a girl named Amy and wanted her to know it, but then -- it wasn't written for posterity, was it? That's not really what we think about when we write. We have a message we want to impart to another person in the world, so we write them a letter or a statement or a blog.
I don't know what Amy will make of it yet, but that's okay. I also imagine the feeling Ethan's gut having written it down in the first place (I know that feeling well, and can feel a little bit of it now). Sometimes it's about killing the bull, but sometimes it's just about drawing the bull on the wall.
One of the things BSG left me with was this idea of species memory. SPOILER ALERT if you're thinking of watching the show, but the ending basically tells us that we have neckties and democracy and a legal system because, 150,000 years ago the human race as WE know it was born from a human/cylon hybrid baby.
(Look: it's a good show.)
And I'm not so much talking about "specie memory" as a scientific true fact -- I'm more interested in its neatosity factor, its narrative potential, and the way it makes my brain tingle. Lord knows I think enough about spaceships and dinosaurs as I walk around the world, but I haven't really thought about -- you know -- cavemen very much. As individuals with day to to day dramas and epic troubles. And surely there were wars, there were loves, there dramas among people who were literally the first humans (or human-like) on Earth. They had art, and the ability to perceive the real world through art. And that's enough for me to believe that they qualify souls worthy of consideration from those of us left today. We've had language for something like 40,000 years, but we've had history for, what, 5,000 years? There have been tools for about two and a half million years, and those are just the ones that we've found.
And when I think about human history (or human pre-history) in that vastness of time, my first impulse is to feel sad for all the names we don't know anymore, the sagas -- real or imagined or metaphorical -- that are lost. But that's a selfish way to think of it, yeah? They are still things that happened, whether I know about them or not. There's plenty of history that happened, and was written down, that I don't know simply because I haven't read the right books. And I don't get sad about that. So...
I dunno, a lot of this feels like college-age navel gazing. But I can imagine you nodding and smiling as I talk this out, happy to read what's going on in my head, happy to watch me work it out and articulate it. And that's not embarrassing at all.
My second impulse is to be so very pleased that it happened at all, to remember that there's so much happening right now that's being experience by those there to experience it. Something Dr. Baltar says near the middle of season four jumps out at me: "I love living. I really do. I really, really love living." I like it too.
While I was driving I also saw something that caused another piece of my novel to click into place, which is a much appreciated gift, and really the whole reason I wanted to be alone in a car for ten hours in the first place. It was grafitti on an overpass, the kind you have to hang upside down from the top to write (or at least, that's how I imagine it has to be written), and it was simple, with no embellishing flourishes and no punctuation, and it said I LOVE YOU AMY and I thought, well damn right you do.
Ethan is a junior whose girlfriend Amy has dumped him. She's reconnected with a middle school love she mostly talks to on the phone and sits in food courts with, and Ethan's been trying to sort out how to win her back. It's a relationship between supporting characters, and it's something I've known was going to happen all along, but I was never quite sure how much of it was going to go on the page. There are plenty of things I'm secretly proud of myself for with regard to the book, and one of them is the rather involved and evolving lives the supporting characters have that Berto never even finds out about, since he's so stuck in his own head. But Ethan and Amy's relationship troubles are something I wanted him to encounter, but I didn't really have a sense for how they would wrap up, or what role Berto might have in their conclusion. But seeing that simple spraypainted line, I thought of my ol' pal Adrian, who went on a spraypainting spree after his high school girlfriend broke up with him. He sprayed "KLF" over a Pepsi sign on 131 going toward Day Heights, and I remember -- we were just out of high school at the time, so I was 18 or 19 -- driving back to Clifton from visiting my folks and feeling so Tall whenever I saw those three letters over that rusty old Pepsi sign. Someone I knew had changed the landscape of familiar ground, even in a very small way, and I liked that.
So, "I Love You Amy." I immediately thought of our man Berto being driven in a car (he's a lad of fifteen), or maybe out riding his bike (he hasn't yet, but I imagine he's the sort who would like to range far on two wheels), and discovering a message written to someone he knows (Amy is his cousin, remember?), by someone else he knows, and I imagine it opening up entire rooms in his brain he'd never even known were there. I imagine Berto buying his own can of spray paint and spraying I Love You Amy on the linoleum floors of his high school, not directly to help Ethan, but because he has the power to do it. He can alter his world very easily and change the way people walk on the floor beneath their feet.
They probably won't think to write it down, and somehow that floor will be torn up or the school will fall down around it, and maybe by then no one will remember or no one will care that a boy once loved a girl named Amy and wanted her to know it, but then -- it wasn't written for posterity, was it? That's not really what we think about when we write. We have a message we want to impart to another person in the world, so we write them a letter or a statement or a blog.
I don't know what Amy will make of it yet, but that's okay. I also imagine the feeling Ethan's gut having written it down in the first place (I know that feeling well, and can feel a little bit of it now). Sometimes it's about killing the bull, but sometimes it's just about drawing the bull on the wall.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Dear __________
Nerd Alert: over the course of the ten hour drive to Baltimore, I spent most of my time thinking about Battlestar Galactica. I won't bore you with why you should have been watching BSG if you weren't, because this isn't really a story about a TV show. But I watched the last episode of the show, went to bed, woke up early and got in a car headed east. I had a little Cylon on the dashboard of my rental car, and I was taking special pains to be nice to him. I'm trying to break the old cycle, right?
I've never driven east before. The mountains (the hills?) were sloping and broad. I like them in retrospect, but I remember wanting to get out of West Virginia. It felt good to arrive in Baltimore, though the directions from Google Maps dropped me off the highway farther west than I might have liked. I made promises to myself not to think (or at least not to talk) about the Wire in the lead up to my trip, but it was hard not to when I got off of 70. I've been in rough neighborhoods before -- I've lived in rough neighborhoods before -- but this was honest to goodness block after block of buildings that were boarded up, but not abandoned. One two separate occasions I wondered why dudes were trying to hail my car like it was a cab, before realizing they were simply offering me a unique business opportunity, much like D'Angelo or Poot. I looked straight ahead at stop lights and turned down my Morrissey cd, lest the rental car stereo be more powerful than I might realize.
Adam called while I was following the internet's labyrinthine directions to their apartment, and I tried to be clever as I a) told him I was nearly there, and b) realized his call had instantly distracted me from an important split in the road I was traveling. So I tried to follow my spider-sense out of the Wire's establishing shots and the apartment of my friends, and as you may have already guessed, I eventually made it there safely. I picked up Adam and Kate Lynn, changed my shirt, ate a veggie burger, and we went to see a Talking Heads cover band.
Adam brought up seeing the Psycho Killers (natch) when we were emailing about trip specifics, and I took a moment before responding, and then decided not to be a dick about it. On the one hand: a cover band? On the other hand: Talking Heads! As I yelled to KL during their set, it's not like I'm going to get to see the Talking Heads perform in a club in Baltimore anytime soon ... but after about two and a half songs I was ready to not be listening to a cover band anymore. On the plus side: their David Byrne looks like the son of Dave Matthews and Jon Favreau, and that was kind of awesome.
One of the many TV shows I have made up and secretly journaled about is about a rock band, and it was fun to watch the band on stage and imagine the relationships at play. The singer/guitarist was obviously the most interested in what was going on ... one of the two backup singers got bored and left after the first song turned into a ten minute jam session ... the bass player never looked at anything but where the walls met the ceiling ... the drummer would continually get frustrated and try to catch the singer's eye so he could wrap up the song. The keyboardist looked 17 and overjoyed to be playing Talking Heads songs. Adam also told me the drummer had had a thing for Adam's high school girlfriend when she went off to college, leaving Adam at home for his senior year. He would continually update Adam that he was "looking out for her" at school. Secret failures and embarrassments ... and the feeling I wasn't getting the whole story. I liked that.
The night may have ended with an episode of Flight of the Conchords, and then a phone call to KM. I don't entirely remember what happened after the band though. I met a lot of Adam's high school chums but I couldn't hear anything they said to me. I was hoping they would ask what I did for a living, because my prepared response was "street juggler." And then, in case they asked me to juggle something, I would say, "Look, I don't ask you to suck my dick on YOUR day off, do I?"
(This is not something I would have actually said; rather, it was a thing I told Adam the next day after seeing an ACTUAL street juggler, and it made us laugh, and I put it here so I don't forget it.)
Next time: The Po' House, crabs, clawed tour guides.
I've never driven east before. The mountains (the hills?) were sloping and broad. I like them in retrospect, but I remember wanting to get out of West Virginia. It felt good to arrive in Baltimore, though the directions from Google Maps dropped me off the highway farther west than I might have liked. I made promises to myself not to think (or at least not to talk) about the Wire in the lead up to my trip, but it was hard not to when I got off of 70. I've been in rough neighborhoods before -- I've lived in rough neighborhoods before -- but this was honest to goodness block after block of buildings that were boarded up, but not abandoned. One two separate occasions I wondered why dudes were trying to hail my car like it was a cab, before realizing they were simply offering me a unique business opportunity, much like D'Angelo or Poot. I looked straight ahead at stop lights and turned down my Morrissey cd, lest the rental car stereo be more powerful than I might realize.
Adam called while I was following the internet's labyrinthine directions to their apartment, and I tried to be clever as I a) told him I was nearly there, and b) realized his call had instantly distracted me from an important split in the road I was traveling. So I tried to follow my spider-sense out of the Wire's establishing shots and the apartment of my friends, and as you may have already guessed, I eventually made it there safely. I picked up Adam and Kate Lynn, changed my shirt, ate a veggie burger, and we went to see a Talking Heads cover band.
Adam brought up seeing the Psycho Killers (natch) when we were emailing about trip specifics, and I took a moment before responding, and then decided not to be a dick about it. On the one hand: a cover band? On the other hand: Talking Heads! As I yelled to KL during their set, it's not like I'm going to get to see the Talking Heads perform in a club in Baltimore anytime soon ... but after about two and a half songs I was ready to not be listening to a cover band anymore. On the plus side: their David Byrne looks like the son of Dave Matthews and Jon Favreau, and that was kind of awesome.
One of the many TV shows I have made up and secretly journaled about is about a rock band, and it was fun to watch the band on stage and imagine the relationships at play. The singer/guitarist was obviously the most interested in what was going on ... one of the two backup singers got bored and left after the first song turned into a ten minute jam session ... the bass player never looked at anything but where the walls met the ceiling ... the drummer would continually get frustrated and try to catch the singer's eye so he could wrap up the song. The keyboardist looked 17 and overjoyed to be playing Talking Heads songs. Adam also told me the drummer had had a thing for Adam's high school girlfriend when she went off to college, leaving Adam at home for his senior year. He would continually update Adam that he was "looking out for her" at school. Secret failures and embarrassments ... and the feeling I wasn't getting the whole story. I liked that.
The night may have ended with an episode of Flight of the Conchords, and then a phone call to KM. I don't entirely remember what happened after the band though. I met a lot of Adam's high school chums but I couldn't hear anything they said to me. I was hoping they would ask what I did for a living, because my prepared response was "street juggler." And then, in case they asked me to juggle something, I would say, "Look, I don't ask you to suck my dick on YOUR day off, do I?"
(This is not something I would have actually said; rather, it was a thing I told Adam the next day after seeing an ACTUAL street juggler, and it made us laugh, and I put it here so I don't forget it.)
Next time: The Po' House, crabs, clawed tour guides.
Friday, October 03, 2008
...in which I fix Comics.

I've been playing the LEGO BATMAN video game lately (as the only video games I seem to retain any proficiency for are those designed for 8 year olds), and it got me to thinking: they really ought to just End Batman.
Maybe that's what DC is up to with the upcoming Neil Gaiman-scripted "Whatever Happened to the Dark Knight," or whatever it's called, but I really think Batman, as a comics property, could benefit by ending it and starting all over. Take into account everything that's happened in Batman's 70ish year history, announce BATMAN as a 200 or 300 issue series, and then tell the whole story again, starting with the origin and working up to Dark Knight Returns. You could jump around in time, treat it like TV "seasons," write a mega-outline and bring in different writers to tell different longform stories, introduce Robin around issue 50, slowly bring in the big villains and give them all their own long-running arcs, and treat Batman like the property it is -- a story that's run its course in a very real way, but that still has the potential to be an entertaining and financially viable comics property. Do it like the movies do it, only with a complete story in mind, from young boy in the alley to aging crimefighter. And 20 or 30 years down the line, when the story is told, you do it all over again.
Aaaaanyway. If, for some reason, the folks at DC decide not to take my advice on this, I'd settle for regular updates on the Daily Batman again.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The New Messiah
from the So I Won't Lose It Dept....
The Beat's look at the cancellation of DC's Minx line.
...another lesson in how Comics Just Don't Get It, burying Minx comics in with the graphic novels and manga, instead of fighting to get them in with the YA titles. I can attest to the fact that Barnes & Nobles have a graphic novel section in their childrens' departments -- it's young readers stuff, to be sure, not young adult -- but this reminds of how books like ULTIMATE SPIDER-MAN were supposed to reach audiences AMAZING SPIDER-MAN couldn't, but just wound up being bought by the same folks who liked Spider-Man to begin with.
More and more I'm thinking: Comics Yay, The Comics Industry Nay. But then I guess sales trends will take care of that.
(Also? The new Jenny Lewis cd is my new girlfriend.)
The Beat's look at the cancellation of DC's Minx line.
...another lesson in how Comics Just Don't Get It, burying Minx comics in with the graphic novels and manga, instead of fighting to get them in with the YA titles. I can attest to the fact that Barnes & Nobles have a graphic novel section in their childrens' departments -- it's young readers stuff, to be sure, not young adult -- but this reminds of how books like ULTIMATE SPIDER-MAN were supposed to reach audiences AMAZING SPIDER-MAN couldn't, but just wound up being bought by the same folks who liked Spider-Man to begin with.
More and more I'm thinking: Comics Yay, The Comics Industry Nay. But then I guess sales trends will take care of that.
(Also? The new Jenny Lewis cd is my new girlfriend.)
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
8-14-08
And I mean, such a strange day.
I woke up with SJ, my back hurting, but grateful to be there with her on her floor, hoping to hold her a little longer. She'd turn her back to me and I'd curl behind her, or I'd lay on my back and she'd rest her head on my chest. Finally she said, after several false starts and faux awakenings, "I think I'm up."
"What?"
"I think I'm awake."
We laid there a little bit longer, feeling the skin of the other against our own. I smelled her hair, I touched my fingers to the spot above her hip -- to the place below her breast -- both where her curves were about to begin, or end, depending on which direction you were going. But then we did, we got up, I went for breakfast and helped her put things away once I came back. "You've been really supportive of me, these last days," is one of the last things she said to me, her face to mine.
I ended the night with my friends of the past two years. Adam and Kate Lynn, Ryan and Ben. Folks I haven't hardly seen this summer -- all of us scattered and looking for our own ways ahead. We told stories. Kate Lynn's been in Chicago, then Baltimore and Washington with Adam, Ryan in Italy, Bosnia, Croatia, Slovenia, Ben drawing comics in San Jose, or seeing Amy at Zine Fest and ComicCon. It was good to have them together again. I loved having them together again. Adam says I should move to Baltimore, we'll start a Rock Band rock band, he'll introduce me to nice, single, Jewish girls. "They put out," he says.
"That's all I ask," I tell him.
I hugged him at least three times tonight, not sure when I'll see him again. It's downright cute how affectionate we are of each other. I hope he can tell. Kate Lynn wants to come to dinner tomorrow, which I like, and she offered to help me move. I like that too. I felt awfully fond of her tonight too, and she's got biceps I wouldn't turn down when there are things to lift. Or any other situation.
I couldn't stop talking about the Olympian softball players -- no sleeves, muscles as they pitched 113km/hr balls, nails painted red.
"That's what does it for your," Kate Lynn says, "that mix of strength and femininity."
"That's definitely what does it for me."
"That's a good writerly detail," she says.
I think about SJ's orange fingernails, newly painted, greasy and wet from a chicken we've torn apart on a lunchtime date at the farmer's market on the Bay. It is a good writerly detail.
"You're right," I say. And I resist the temptation to show off our photobooth pictures again. I want to keep them private a little bit longer.
I woke up with SJ, my back hurting, but grateful to be there with her on her floor, hoping to hold her a little longer. She'd turn her back to me and I'd curl behind her, or I'd lay on my back and she'd rest her head on my chest. Finally she said, after several false starts and faux awakenings, "I think I'm up."
"What?"
"I think I'm awake."
We laid there a little bit longer, feeling the skin of the other against our own. I smelled her hair, I touched my fingers to the spot above her hip -- to the place below her breast -- both where her curves were about to begin, or end, depending on which direction you were going. But then we did, we got up, I went for breakfast and helped her put things away once I came back. "You've been really supportive of me, these last days," is one of the last things she said to me, her face to mine.
I ended the night with my friends of the past two years. Adam and Kate Lynn, Ryan and Ben. Folks I haven't hardly seen this summer -- all of us scattered and looking for our own ways ahead. We told stories. Kate Lynn's been in Chicago, then Baltimore and Washington with Adam, Ryan in Italy, Bosnia, Croatia, Slovenia, Ben drawing comics in San Jose, or seeing Amy at Zine Fest and ComicCon. It was good to have them together again. I loved having them together again. Adam says I should move to Baltimore, we'll start a Rock Band rock band, he'll introduce me to nice, single, Jewish girls. "They put out," he says.
"That's all I ask," I tell him.
I hugged him at least three times tonight, not sure when I'll see him again. It's downright cute how affectionate we are of each other. I hope he can tell. Kate Lynn wants to come to dinner tomorrow, which I like, and she offered to help me move. I like that too. I felt awfully fond of her tonight too, and she's got biceps I wouldn't turn down when there are things to lift. Or any other situation.
I couldn't stop talking about the Olympian softball players -- no sleeves, muscles as they pitched 113km/hr balls, nails painted red.
"That's what does it for your," Kate Lynn says, "that mix of strength and femininity."
"That's definitely what does it for me."
"That's a good writerly detail," she says.
I think about SJ's orange fingernails, newly painted, greasy and wet from a chicken we've torn apart on a lunchtime date at the farmer's market on the Bay. It is a good writerly detail.
"You're right," I say. And I resist the temptation to show off our photobooth pictures again. I want to keep them private a little bit longer.
Monday, August 04, 2008
To Catch A Yeti
I'm housesitting for a friend of mine these days and he has cable TV, so basically that means, whenever you think of me these days, I am probably covered in a blanket and watching cable TV. Right now there's a movie about Leonard Cohen on, and I have it on in an attempt to finally like Leonard Cohen. Much like sushi and coffee, Leonard Cohen is one of those things I managed to avoid, with no particular purpose or reason for doing so, until well into my adulthood. Well, it's 2008, I have had about a dozen cups of coffee this year alone (yeah!), about a dozen little sushi-bits just this week (EFF yeah!!), so why not give Leonard Cohen another try?
But listen Internet, this blog post isn't about Leonard Cohen. This blog post is about the movie on another station at the very same time, a movie I cannot watch because the so-called "friend" I'm housesitting for doesn't subscribe to it. Or, he had it blocked before he left town, because he knew that doing so would crush my spirit just a little bit, and that's the sort of thing dudes do when they are friends with each other. The movie in question is called TO CATCH A YETI, and the TV describes it thusly:
"A hunter (Meat Loaf)--"
And I have to stop right there for a second, because dude! Even if it wasn't called TO CATCH A YETI, I would pretty much watch any movie that begins with that description...
"A hunter (Meat Loaf) is hired by a New York businessman to capture the Abominable Snowman. (Action/Adventure, 86 minutes.)"
And even though it's on a station I can't get, I've decided this must be the best movie that's ever made. And I swore, on the spot, to make it my goal in life to see TO CATCH A YETI. But I can't give in and Netflix it, I can't do it the easy way -- TO CATCH A YETI will be my white whale, the thing what propels me through the next several years of my life and yet isn't a) a girl I like, or b) something that costs me tons and tons of money, a la graduate school. I will find you, TO CATCH A YETI, someday on my TV -- like a John Cusack romantic comedy, I trust and believe that we will one day find ourselves in the same grocery store discount VHS bin.
A little googling came up with this, as if a love note written specifically to me:
"Hunter Big Jake finds the fabled Himalayan Yeti -- the Big Foot of legend. But what he really finds is a cuddly, furry animal the size of a large teddy bear -- with enormous feet! And when Jake brings the Yeti to New York it becomes the pet of a spoiled son of a multi-millionaire. Only a little girl... Hunter Big Jake finds the fabled Himalayan Yeti -- the Big Foot of legend. But what he really finds is a cuddly, furry animal the size of a large teddy bear -- with enormous feet! And when Jake brings the Yeti to New York it becomes the pet of a spoiled son of a multi-millionaire. Only a little girl named Amy can set the poor Yeti free."
Hunter Big Jake! The Big Foot of Legend! Only a little girl!

Watch out, Meat Loaf!
But listen Internet, this blog post isn't about Leonard Cohen. This blog post is about the movie on another station at the very same time, a movie I cannot watch because the so-called "friend" I'm housesitting for doesn't subscribe to it. Or, he had it blocked before he left town, because he knew that doing so would crush my spirit just a little bit, and that's the sort of thing dudes do when they are friends with each other. The movie in question is called TO CATCH A YETI, and the TV describes it thusly:
"A hunter (Meat Loaf)--"
And I have to stop right there for a second, because dude! Even if it wasn't called TO CATCH A YETI, I would pretty much watch any movie that begins with that description...
"A hunter (Meat Loaf) is hired by a New York businessman to capture the Abominable Snowman. (Action/Adventure, 86 minutes.)"
And even though it's on a station I can't get, I've decided this must be the best movie that's ever made. And I swore, on the spot, to make it my goal in life to see TO CATCH A YETI. But I can't give in and Netflix it, I can't do it the easy way -- TO CATCH A YETI will be my white whale, the thing what propels me through the next several years of my life and yet isn't a) a girl I like, or b) something that costs me tons and tons of money, a la graduate school. I will find you, TO CATCH A YETI, someday on my TV -- like a John Cusack romantic comedy, I trust and believe that we will one day find ourselves in the same grocery store discount VHS bin.
A little googling came up with this, as if a love note written specifically to me:
"Hunter Big Jake finds the fabled Himalayan Yeti -- the Big Foot of legend. But what he really finds is a cuddly, furry animal the size of a large teddy bear -- with enormous feet! And when Jake brings the Yeti to New York it becomes the pet of a spoiled son of a multi-millionaire. Only a little girl... Hunter Big Jake finds the fabled Himalayan Yeti -- the Big Foot of legend. But what he really finds is a cuddly, furry animal the size of a large teddy bear -- with enormous feet! And when Jake brings the Yeti to New York it becomes the pet of a spoiled son of a multi-millionaire. Only a little girl named Amy can set the poor Yeti free."
Hunter Big Jake! The Big Foot of Legend! Only a little girl!

Watch out, Meat Loaf!
Thursday, July 03, 2008
...to form a more perfect union...
There's no better way to celebrate America's birthday than with Muppets.
(I like the wiener backdrop about a minute and a half in.)
found on BWE
(I like the wiener backdrop about a minute and a half in.)
found on BWE
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
Dateline: Awesome
Unemployed Creepo wages one-man war on drugs ...
'They said the agent, a man some had come to know as “Sergeant Bill,” boasted that he did not need search warrants to enter their homes because he worked for the federal government.'
... until an intrepid small-town reporter checks his name on Google or something, and discovers there's no such thing as a “multijurisdictional task force” sending federal drug agents to Missouri to fight meth.
found via BoingBoing.
'They said the agent, a man some had come to know as “Sergeant Bill,” boasted that he did not need search warrants to enter their homes because he worked for the federal government.'
... until an intrepid small-town reporter checks his name on Google or something, and discovers there's no such thing as a “multijurisdictional task force” sending federal drug agents to Missouri to fight meth.
found via BoingBoing.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Where I'm At 06-08
Movies I want to see:
-The Dark Knight -- I wasn't wild about 'Begins,' but DK looks like the radness.
-Pineapple Express -- sort of.
-Hancock -- mostly just because the original title was 'Tonight, He Comes.'
Things I want to eat:
-Indian food -- always.
-Chick-O-Stick -- which means I'm itching for a road trip.
-Green apples -- they're good.
Music I want to listen to:
-My Morning Jacket
-The Avett Brothers (thanks Lizz!)
TV I've been watching:
-The Wire -- I'm hip deep in season 2.
-Battlestar Galactica season three -- I watched it during its first run, and I've been re-watching it before bed lately. I remember being really disappointed with the bulk of the middle, but really loving the first four episodes, and then the last one or two. Four episodes in, that remains the case.
Things I have been thinking about:
-Moving -- and where to go.
-Superhero comics -- and whether I'll ever like them ever again.
-Manual labor -- I'm in the mood to dig a hole.
Things I have been working on:
-Mostly short bits of nothing in particular. But I started a story I really like called "The Boy Who Would Be Thor," and July is officially the Month to Novel Again.
-The Dark Knight -- I wasn't wild about 'Begins,' but DK looks like the radness.
-Pineapple Express -- sort of.
-Hancock -- mostly just because the original title was 'Tonight, He Comes.'
Things I want to eat:
-Indian food -- always.
-Chick-O-Stick -- which means I'm itching for a road trip.
-Green apples -- they're good.
Music I want to listen to:
-My Morning Jacket
-The Avett Brothers (thanks Lizz!)
TV I've been watching:
-The Wire -- I'm hip deep in season 2.
-Battlestar Galactica season three -- I watched it during its first run, and I've been re-watching it before bed lately. I remember being really disappointed with the bulk of the middle, but really loving the first four episodes, and then the last one or two. Four episodes in, that remains the case.
Things I have been thinking about:
-Moving -- and where to go.
-Superhero comics -- and whether I'll ever like them ever again.
-Manual labor -- I'm in the mood to dig a hole.
Things I have been working on:
-Mostly short bits of nothing in particular. But I started a story I really like called "The Boy Who Would Be Thor," and July is officially the Month to Novel Again.
...and one more thing.
For all my dislike for comics these days, I can't stop THINKING about them. It occurred to me in a nappy-haze this morning (I woke up, ate breakfast, THEN took a nap -- it's about time to get myself to a new town, folks) that the folks who find FINAL CRISIS too confusing are the same folks who lurve ALL-STAR SUPERMAN -- the only difference being ALL-STAR is based on an imagined continuity, more or less. Superman ran up against Bizzaro in a recent ALL-STAR, and he was largely changed from any depiction of Bizzaro we've ever seen -- but that's easily the most well-received superhero title of recent years. But when the New Gods of FINAL CRISIS clash with their depiction in COUNTDOWN, it's cause for anger and mistrust...
Well, my problems with FINAL CRISIS aren't continuity-bound. I don't think it's a confusing book, it just has the confounding problem of trying to move too slow and yet too fast at the very same time.
(Although, I will say -- spoiler alert! -- that if you're not intimately familiar with the history of DC's various Flashes, the end of FINAL CRISIS #2 probably makes no sense whatsoever. It looks like the very same guy who's already there, appearing out of some vortex.)
Well, my problems with FINAL CRISIS aren't continuity-bound. I don't think it's a confusing book, it just has the confounding problem of trying to move too slow and yet too fast at the very same time.
(Although, I will say -- spoiler alert! -- that if you're not intimately familiar with the history of DC's various Flashes, the end of FINAL CRISIS #2 probably makes no sense whatsoever. It looks like the very same guy who's already there, appearing out of some vortex.)
Thursday, June 26, 2008
I Am Turning Misanthropic
I visited the comics shop today, more and more a thing I do based on specific books coming out rather than as a once-a-week affair. This time I was looking for FINAL CRISIS #2, being the latest issue in DC's latest opus. It wasn't very good.
This time last year I was doing a lot of comics research. I was chest-deep in a comics writing project and getting ready for my first San Diego Con -- I wanted to know who to talk to, I wanted to understand the latest market trends, I wanted to be up on what comics people were up on. I generally want that anyway, but last summer, it was with a specific ambition and a specific drive that I immersed myself in the online comicsphere.
Well. It's been a long year, yeah? Perhaps evidenced by the last post below this one being from last August.
Last year I was excited by the World Of Comics -- maybe because I was writing a lot of them -- but the comicsphere in June 2008 is a bleak kind of place. There are still comics I love -- American Elf and Achewood are still strips I look at every single day -- but trips to the comics shop tend to be disappointing. Grant Morrison writes superhero comics as good as they come, and a few months ago his and Frank Quitely's ALL-STAR SUPERMAN #10 was probably the finest Superman story that's ever seen print -- but with FINAL CRISIS it feels like a lot of thunder for not a lot of lightning. It's been two issues of talky-vague-exposition thus far, with a bunch of supervillains having constant meetings in an old movie theater. I'm not even sure WHY they're meeting -- Luthor just seems to show up to the meetings to tell everyone else that he doesn't want to be at the meetings, you know? It's lazy, and the sort of thing a writer's room would shoot down, reinvent, and reconstruct into something better. Maybe I, in spite of my natural inclination to favor the auteur, really just want my commercial fiction written by committee.
And not to get all nerdy on y'all, but Marvel's SECRET INVASION isn't much better. It has a different tone than FINAL CRISIS -- it's built on large panels and bang-splash-'sprise moments that unfortunately aren't as iconic or exciting as they're meant to be. Maybe I'm just lamenting my inability to be entertained by the artform I so enjoyed in the halcyon days of youth, but it's seriously a bummer to not be able to pick up a colorful packet of superheroes and walk away at least SOMEWHAT entertained. They're just not being good storytellers at Marvel and DC these days. I don't mean "these days" as compared to whenever you and I were reading comics as kids -- I mean these days as opposed to a few years ago. Or even a few months ago. RUNAWAYS and ASTONISHING X-MEN were able to entertain and tell competent stories, THE IMMORTAL IRON FIST took a decades-old character and did him done right, and BATMAN: THE DARK KNIGHT DETECTIVE was able to tell a story the way they USED to tell 'em without seeming like a trip down nostalgia lane ...
What I mean to say is, it looks like my own personal comics-universe is in a bit of a slump these days. It's fun to read the FOURTH WORLD reprints and all, but as a rule, I'd much rather get lost in something New and Young and Rad.
More on misanthropy later. Hello, interweb. It's nice to see you again.
This time last year I was doing a lot of comics research. I was chest-deep in a comics writing project and getting ready for my first San Diego Con -- I wanted to know who to talk to, I wanted to understand the latest market trends, I wanted to be up on what comics people were up on. I generally want that anyway, but last summer, it was with a specific ambition and a specific drive that I immersed myself in the online comicsphere.
Well. It's been a long year, yeah? Perhaps evidenced by the last post below this one being from last August.
Last year I was excited by the World Of Comics -- maybe because I was writing a lot of them -- but the comicsphere in June 2008 is a bleak kind of place. There are still comics I love -- American Elf and Achewood are still strips I look at every single day -- but trips to the comics shop tend to be disappointing. Grant Morrison writes superhero comics as good as they come, and a few months ago his and Frank Quitely's ALL-STAR SUPERMAN #10 was probably the finest Superman story that's ever seen print -- but with FINAL CRISIS it feels like a lot of thunder for not a lot of lightning. It's been two issues of talky-vague-exposition thus far, with a bunch of supervillains having constant meetings in an old movie theater. I'm not even sure WHY they're meeting -- Luthor just seems to show up to the meetings to tell everyone else that he doesn't want to be at the meetings, you know? It's lazy, and the sort of thing a writer's room would shoot down, reinvent, and reconstruct into something better. Maybe I, in spite of my natural inclination to favor the auteur, really just want my commercial fiction written by committee.
And not to get all nerdy on y'all, but Marvel's SECRET INVASION isn't much better. It has a different tone than FINAL CRISIS -- it's built on large panels and bang-splash-'sprise moments that unfortunately aren't as iconic or exciting as they're meant to be. Maybe I'm just lamenting my inability to be entertained by the artform I so enjoyed in the halcyon days of youth, but it's seriously a bummer to not be able to pick up a colorful packet of superheroes and walk away at least SOMEWHAT entertained. They're just not being good storytellers at Marvel and DC these days. I don't mean "these days" as compared to whenever you and I were reading comics as kids -- I mean these days as opposed to a few years ago. Or even a few months ago. RUNAWAYS and ASTONISHING X-MEN were able to entertain and tell competent stories, THE IMMORTAL IRON FIST took a decades-old character and did him done right, and BATMAN: THE DARK KNIGHT DETECTIVE was able to tell a story the way they USED to tell 'em without seeming like a trip down nostalgia lane ...
What I mean to say is, it looks like my own personal comics-universe is in a bit of a slump these days. It's fun to read the FOURTH WORLD reprints and all, but as a rule, I'd much rather get lost in something New and Young and Rad.
More on misanthropy later. Hello, interweb. It's nice to see you again.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Auto-mytho-biography
-Age 3: Like early man, I have trouble telling the difference between waking life and dreams. My Aunt Sheryl, my dad’s step-sister, only a few years older than my big brother Dave, passes away but her spirit is kept safe, entombed in a bulbous device of yellow plastic, with a red knob and many pipes. It comes to my attention, at a time unspecified, that the bulbous yellow device is a water pump, cobwebbed in the corner of our basement, and Sheryl has simply moved out of Ma and Pa’s house, and in with her boyfriend Lance. Years later: Lance becomes my Uncle. A few years more: Sheryl and Lance no longer speak to our side of the family, and she might as well be a spirit in a water pump after all.
-Age 6: In a panic, I ask my mom what happens to me when I die. Mom is cleaning out the hall closet and would rather be left to it. “Jents don’t die,” she tells me. With a great relief -- the greatest relief -- removed from my shoulders, I return to playing He-Man. Today’s adventure: Mek-A-Nek’s funeral. Prince Adam’s eulogy: “Farewell, friend Mek-A-Nek … if only you had been born a Jent.”
-Age 9: I practice my stand-up routine before our large bathroom vanity. I give myself the willies by turning the lights off, closing my eyes and saying, “Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody -- Mongoose, Manny, Maxwell!” I run from the room.
-Ages 13-17: Every Saturday I spend the night at Shaun’s house, along with Bobby, Adrian and Jarrod. Our adventures begin with the discovery of an empty bread bag and some matted down grass under a fallen tree. That night, we explore further and meet the Devil living in Shaun’s house. The Devil chases us up the hill to Shaun’s house, where we cower sleeplessly as he bangs on doors, removes screens from windows, and dances cloven-hooves on the roof. In the morning we find clawed potatoes in the yard and ashes where his knuckles stuck the doors. Every Saturday night thereafter he chases us from spring until fall, but our physical forms evade him. Mentally, emotionally and spiritually we do our best to stay out of his grasp, and succeed to varying degrees. Some of us drop out of school and take jobs in nursing homes. Some of us date girls who are dangerously younger, some get fat, drink beer and do drugs. We lust for hand models and enroll in vocational school. We drift apart, and nod goodbyes on graduation day. The devil catches each of us, in ways only we know for sure.
-Age 23: I experience my life’s great trauma. Her name is Xxxxxx Xxxxxx. Three months after I see her for the last time, she tells me she won’t call me again.
-Age 27: I go to bed one night, safely ensconced in Illinois. When I awaken, three days later, I live by sea.
-Age 28+: My adventures continue. Somewhen in the interval between six and now I learn that Jents will die after all.
-Age 6: In a panic, I ask my mom what happens to me when I die. Mom is cleaning out the hall closet and would rather be left to it. “Jents don’t die,” she tells me. With a great relief -- the greatest relief -- removed from my shoulders, I return to playing He-Man. Today’s adventure: Mek-A-Nek’s funeral. Prince Adam’s eulogy: “Farewell, friend Mek-A-Nek … if only you had been born a Jent.”
-Age 9: I practice my stand-up routine before our large bathroom vanity. I give myself the willies by turning the lights off, closing my eyes and saying, “Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody -- Mongoose, Manny, Maxwell!” I run from the room.
-Ages 13-17: Every Saturday I spend the night at Shaun’s house, along with Bobby, Adrian and Jarrod. Our adventures begin with the discovery of an empty bread bag and some matted down grass under a fallen tree. That night, we explore further and meet the Devil living in Shaun’s house. The Devil chases us up the hill to Shaun’s house, where we cower sleeplessly as he bangs on doors, removes screens from windows, and dances cloven-hooves on the roof. In the morning we find clawed potatoes in the yard and ashes where his knuckles stuck the doors. Every Saturday night thereafter he chases us from spring until fall, but our physical forms evade him. Mentally, emotionally and spiritually we do our best to stay out of his grasp, and succeed to varying degrees. Some of us drop out of school and take jobs in nursing homes. Some of us date girls who are dangerously younger, some get fat, drink beer and do drugs. We lust for hand models and enroll in vocational school. We drift apart, and nod goodbyes on graduation day. The devil catches each of us, in ways only we know for sure.
-Age 23: I experience my life’s great trauma. Her name is Xxxxxx Xxxxxx. Three months after I see her for the last time, she tells me she won’t call me again.
-Age 27: I go to bed one night, safely ensconced in Illinois. When I awaken, three days later, I live by sea.
-Age 28+: My adventures continue. Somewhen in the interval between six and now I learn that Jents will die after all.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Bound to wind up one lonely, twisted old man
I buy new music maybe once a year. I like new music, but it's usually just not my priority -- I'm happy to keep listening to the same Blues Brothers record if it means I can get a new book or two. But I made my annual purchase recently, for the sake of the new, for the sake of the blog...
The White Stripes -- Icky Thump

Every review I've read says the same things about it -- a return to form after Get Behind Me Satan, a return to their pre-Elephant sound, or at worst, a few good songs but mostly bloated ego. Well, I dunno, kids. The guitars that kick off "Icky Thump" are rockin' pretty hard, and there's not a lot more I require from my White Stripes records. I get the sense that Jack White might not have much of a sense of humor when it comes to his outfits/his music/his bands, so while I might not want to hang out with him when he's putting a record together, I'm happy to listen to it when he's done. "Conquest" inspires the cover's visuals, it thumps and it grooves, and of the batch, this is the record I play when The Librarian is at work I want to pretend to be a badass rock and roll singer.
Ryan Adams -- Easy Tiger

I love Ryan Adams so much. I don't even remember what got me into him in the first place -- I think I was on a mission for brand new music when Gold came out, and I picked it up on a whim. That led me backwards to Whiskeytown, which coincided with my realization that country music is rad, and from there I was insanely grateful that the dude puts out one (or two) records a year. The downside of his massive output is that not every song is a gem ... there's a lot to forget about on his recent releases, but the stuff in between is fantastic. What I've read about Easy Tiger says that it's unlike is other recent releases in that it's "all the good stuff" ... but I dunno. It's pretty standard Ryan Adams, I think. A few great songs, a few good ones, a few near-misses. But for songs like "Two" and "These Girls," it's definitely worth all the misses in the world.
Nick Lowe -- At My Age

Here we go. I found Nick Lowe a few years ago when he performed "She's Got Soul" on Conan O'Brien, and I was fascinated by this dapper old man with shock-white hair, smoking a cigarette and singing about girls. I bought The Convincer and played the shit out of it, only finding out later that Nick Lowe was Elvis Costello's producer back when he was, you know, Elvis Costello, and also the dude who sang "Cruel to be Kind." I guess he has quite the punky reputation, but I know him as the dude in the suit who sings blues/country-influenced pop songs, wears a suit, and has eyes that look ... not tired, but full. At My Age is the best new record I've bought since I Don't Know When. "Long Limbed Girl" is nostalgic for old loves, "I Trained Her to Love Me" is mean Nick Lowe at his best, and "Feel Again" brings it back to sweetness again. Thank god this man survived his youth.
Beastie Boys -- The Mix-Up

It's the album before their next great album! I'm not a big Beastie Boys fan, and I probably wouldn't have picked this up had it actually been their next great album. The Mix-Up is an instrumental, and I mostly bought it to serve as an alternative work record to The Prodigy's Dirtchamber Sessions. One review described it as future background music for countless frat parties, and that might be right. But it's good for what it is. Instead of putting it on while I wrote this paragraph, I kept listening to Nick Lowe.
The White Stripes -- Icky Thump

Every review I've read says the same things about it -- a return to form after Get Behind Me Satan, a return to their pre-Elephant sound, or at worst, a few good songs but mostly bloated ego. Well, I dunno, kids. The guitars that kick off "Icky Thump" are rockin' pretty hard, and there's not a lot more I require from my White Stripes records. I get the sense that Jack White might not have much of a sense of humor when it comes to his outfits/his music/his bands, so while I might not want to hang out with him when he's putting a record together, I'm happy to listen to it when he's done. "Conquest" inspires the cover's visuals, it thumps and it grooves, and of the batch, this is the record I play when The Librarian is at work I want to pretend to be a badass rock and roll singer.
Ryan Adams -- Easy Tiger

I love Ryan Adams so much. I don't even remember what got me into him in the first place -- I think I was on a mission for brand new music when Gold came out, and I picked it up on a whim. That led me backwards to Whiskeytown, which coincided with my realization that country music is rad, and from there I was insanely grateful that the dude puts out one (or two) records a year. The downside of his massive output is that not every song is a gem ... there's a lot to forget about on his recent releases, but the stuff in between is fantastic. What I've read about Easy Tiger says that it's unlike is other recent releases in that it's "all the good stuff" ... but I dunno. It's pretty standard Ryan Adams, I think. A few great songs, a few good ones, a few near-misses. But for songs like "Two" and "These Girls," it's definitely worth all the misses in the world.
Nick Lowe -- At My Age

Here we go. I found Nick Lowe a few years ago when he performed "She's Got Soul" on Conan O'Brien, and I was fascinated by this dapper old man with shock-white hair, smoking a cigarette and singing about girls. I bought The Convincer and played the shit out of it, only finding out later that Nick Lowe was Elvis Costello's producer back when he was, you know, Elvis Costello, and also the dude who sang "Cruel to be Kind." I guess he has quite the punky reputation, but I know him as the dude in the suit who sings blues/country-influenced pop songs, wears a suit, and has eyes that look ... not tired, but full. At My Age is the best new record I've bought since I Don't Know When. "Long Limbed Girl" is nostalgic for old loves, "I Trained Her to Love Me" is mean Nick Lowe at his best, and "Feel Again" brings it back to sweetness again. Thank god this man survived his youth.
Beastie Boys -- The Mix-Up

It's the album before their next great album! I'm not a big Beastie Boys fan, and I probably wouldn't have picked this up had it actually been their next great album. The Mix-Up is an instrumental, and I mostly bought it to serve as an alternative work record to The Prodigy's Dirtchamber Sessions. One review described it as future background music for countless frat parties, and that might be right. But it's good for what it is. Instead of putting it on while I wrote this paragraph, I kept listening to Nick Lowe.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
07.07.07
Sort of taken from Laurenn McCubbin, who I do not know, but whose blog I enjoy...
Where I’m at:
5 movies I want to see:
Knocked Up
Sicko
10 Canoes
Sunshine
that new Harry Potter thing
I've enjoyed the hell out of most of the movies I've seen this summer. PIRATES and SPIDER-MAN 3 were swell, despite what folks might tell you.
Things I want to eat:
Anything snack-like. We're going to get a new cookbook today.
For a good few weeks I was cooking supper a few times a week -- chopping onions and following cookbook instructions and such. Kind of fell away from it after I made the three or four things I liked from the cookbooks three or four times.
Music I want to listen to:
the new Ryan Adams
the new White Stripes
the new Nick Lowe
I'm basically going to be partying like it's 1999. I don't know how I feel about that.
TV I've been watching:
John from Cincinnati
Flight of the Conchords
Rescue Me, season 4
Doctor Who (almost)
I've heard the 3rd season of WHO was fantastic -- it just debuted on SciFi this past weekend, but I haven't watched it yet. I'm looking forward to it. I've come around the last two years or so to thinking good TV is almost always better than good movies. You have more room to tell stories, and you can do it in more varied ways than the standard 120-page rhythm. JOHN has me perplexed ... I like it ... but I don't really want to sit down and watch it. The first two episodes were TV gold (especially Ed O'Neil), but after that ... I dunno. I'm into it when it's in front of me. Part of that might have to do with CONCHORDS, which comes on after JOHN, and is such an enjoyable half hour of television. I give you: She's So Hot ... Boom!
Things I have been thinking about:
Abraham Lincoln, as usual: "I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature."
Also, comics. I've been doing most of my blogging on Sequential Heart, and it's gotten me back into the habit of going to the comics shop every week or so. I knew I was digging the new CAPTAIN AMERICA comics, but I didn't realize how MUCH I loved them until I wrote a review on the new issue. Also: Paul Pope. THB is coming back, and it's got me really excited to look over the last THB that I never really read. San Diego is on the horizon, the first time I've gone, and I'm stupid excited.
Also also, Shakespeare. SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE has been on the cable TV lately -- man, I like it. I think I like it more than regular Shakespeare.
Things I have been working on:
I wrote a screenplay. A new one, with an idea I've been knocking around in my head and in the odd short story for about two years. It's hokey, but I used the How to Write a Movie in 21 Days method, and I'm currently on day 14. I have a full 122-page draft, and I'm working through the second draft now. I should have a readable version by the time I head back for a week of Ohio on the 16th.
The comic Amy and I are getting ready to pitch around at San Diego. More details to come, I'm sure. It's fun to write, and Amy draws pretty ladies.
Where I’m at:
5 movies I want to see:
Knocked Up
Sicko
10 Canoes
Sunshine
that new Harry Potter thing
I've enjoyed the hell out of most of the movies I've seen this summer. PIRATES and SPIDER-MAN 3 were swell, despite what folks might tell you.
Things I want to eat:
Anything snack-like. We're going to get a new cookbook today.
For a good few weeks I was cooking supper a few times a week -- chopping onions and following cookbook instructions and such. Kind of fell away from it after I made the three or four things I liked from the cookbooks three or four times.
Music I want to listen to:
the new Ryan Adams
the new White Stripes
the new Nick Lowe
I'm basically going to be partying like it's 1999. I don't know how I feel about that.
TV I've been watching:
John from Cincinnati
Flight of the Conchords
Rescue Me, season 4
Doctor Who (almost)
I've heard the 3rd season of WHO was fantastic -- it just debuted on SciFi this past weekend, but I haven't watched it yet. I'm looking forward to it. I've come around the last two years or so to thinking good TV is almost always better than good movies. You have more room to tell stories, and you can do it in more varied ways than the standard 120-page rhythm. JOHN has me perplexed ... I like it ... but I don't really want to sit down and watch it. The first two episodes were TV gold (especially Ed O'Neil), but after that ... I dunno. I'm into it when it's in front of me. Part of that might have to do with CONCHORDS, which comes on after JOHN, and is such an enjoyable half hour of television. I give you: She's So Hot ... Boom!
Things I have been thinking about:
Abraham Lincoln, as usual: "I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature."
Also, comics. I've been doing most of my blogging on Sequential Heart, and it's gotten me back into the habit of going to the comics shop every week or so. I knew I was digging the new CAPTAIN AMERICA comics, but I didn't realize how MUCH I loved them until I wrote a review on the new issue. Also: Paul Pope. THB is coming back, and it's got me really excited to look over the last THB that I never really read. San Diego is on the horizon, the first time I've gone, and I'm stupid excited.
Also also, Shakespeare. SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE has been on the cable TV lately -- man, I like it. I think I like it more than regular Shakespeare.
Things I have been working on:
I wrote a screenplay. A new one, with an idea I've been knocking around in my head and in the odd short story for about two years. It's hokey, but I used the How to Write a Movie in 21 Days method, and I'm currently on day 14. I have a full 122-page draft, and I'm working through the second draft now. I should have a readable version by the time I head back for a week of Ohio on the 16th.
The comic Amy and I are getting ready to pitch around at San Diego. More details to come, I'm sure. It's fun to write, and Amy draws pretty ladies.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
What we talk about when we talk about comics
I spiffed up Sequential Heart and posted some comics reviews there -- the idea is to run a group-blog where a few folks will post short reviews of comics a few times a week. I started things off with recent issues of SHAOLIN COWBOY, ALL-STAR BATMAN & ROBIN and SPIDER-MAN. I'm working up some more graphic novel-y fare right now, and Amy plans on contributing some mini-comic reviews in the near future. I'd also like to write about some of the Bay Area folks we know -- I have BEOWOLF by the Two Fine Chaps sitting on the bookshelf, and Ben Costa's webcomic SHI LONG PANG that might just out-Usagi USAGI YOJIMBO.
Anyway -- I wanted to post about SH while I was thinking about it. Check it out, comment on 'em if you agree or disagree, and if anyone wants to join the conversation, just give a shout.
Sequential Heart!
Anyway -- I wanted to post about SH while I was thinking about it. Check it out, comment on 'em if you agree or disagree, and if anyone wants to join the conversation, just give a shout.
Sequential Heart!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Protecting a World that Fears and Mistrusts Him

So I saw this on Variety:
"In an unprecedented marketing move, 20th Century Fox and the Franklin Mint have created a Silver Surfer U.S. quarter that has been put into limited circulation in advance of the release of "Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer."
And my first thought was, "At long last, the Silver Surfer is on the quarter." And then I thought ... well wait a minute ... they're selling me movies on my money. A little googling turned this up from Fox News:
"The U.S. Mint said in a news release Friday that it learned of the promotional quarter this week and advised the studio and The Franklin Mint they were breaking the law. It is illegal to turn a coin into an advertising vehicle, and violators can face a fine.
""The promotion is in no way approved, authorized, endorsed, or sponsored by the United States Mint, nor is it in any way associated or affiliated with the United States Mint," according to the release. ""
Which made me feel a tiny bit better ... in the Variety report I read "Franklin Mint" and my eyeballs floated right past the "Franklin" part, and as much as I don't like 20th Century Fox getting into the habit of tampering with quarters to get my eyeballs on their movie promotions, I like it a little better than the actual U.S. Mint doing the same.
(If anything, they should bump Andrew Jackson off the $20 and put Thor up there.)
Friday, May 11, 2007
Monday, April 30, 2007
Filtering Your News For 27 Years
Mike Gravel is a former Senator from Alaska, current Democratic Presidential candidate, and has his fingerprints on all sorts of accomplishments we're grateful for, and take for granted, these days: ending the draft in America (by filibustering, for FIVE MONTHS, a bill that would have extended it), ending nuclear testing in Alaska, establishing the Alaskan Pipeline, which now provides 20% of our country's oil, and playing a role in the release of the Pentagon Papers, secret government documents relating to the Vietnam War. He also played the role of "cranky old man" in the South Carolina Democratic Presidential Debate last week. Here he is either saying something Awesome, or complaining about what he had for lunch:

I can't say my vote would go to Mike Gravel in a primary, but I'm glad he's running. His exasperation over play-it-safe-politics is refreshing from a candidate on the national stage, and he provides a kick-you-in-the-nuts alternative to Kucinich if you like the idea of a candidate who wants to end the War in Iraq immediately. Here he is with a mustache:

He's been excluded from a planned New Hampshire debate hosted by CNN, WMUR-TV, and the Union Leader. CNN says this:
"Because Mike Gravel has not demonstrated measurable public support for his campaign to date, he has not received an invitation. But we have not excluded him (or anyone) from the debate. If he meets our criteria between now and the debate, he will certainly get an invitation."
And Mike Gravel says this:
"What was Orwellian in my not meeting certain criteria which the media organizations would not divulge becomes Kafkaesque when I am now told that I have not been excluded and can still be invited if I meet this mysterious criteria."
I think, especially in light of the post-debate interviews that featured Gravel on MSNBC last week, CNN is writing him off as the crazy/longshot candidate, and since Kucinich already fills that role without being as likely to spout off on uncomfortable topics (like in last week's debate, when he laid out how Senators Clinton, Obama, Dodd and Biden could practically end the war by filibuster starting tomorrow, if they really wanted to), they're closing the door on Gravel's face.
Gravel has practically stated outright that he doesn't expect to win the candidacy, much less the Presidency -- he's running to have a national spotlight on the issues he wants to discuss, and I'm grateful for it. When most politicians are more interested in soundbites, and too afraid to be candid with regard to the issues and their beliefs, I'm counting on the occasional crazy old man to stumble into the room and lay out some uncomfortable truths. In Gravel's case it's that, you know, "war is over, if you want it." It's more than likely he'll run out of cash long before the first primary is held in 10 months, but I'd rather the lifespan of his campaign be decided by the support or non-support of the public than by CNN's decision that his voice doesn't deserve to be heard.
Gravel went on to say:
“The statement said that there are literally dozens and dozens of declared presidential candidates. That is true but out of those dozens of candidates, how many are former United States Senators who have been given the stamp of legitimacy by the Democratic National Committee, SEIU, AFSCME, ABC, the Nevada Democratic Party, the Center for American Progress Action Fund etc? Only two, former Senator John Edwards and myself.
“Though this is not the only criteria for deciding the legitimacy of a candidate as other aspirants may have contributed distinguished public service as an appointed official or as an officer of an NGO or excelled as individual public figures such as Ralph Nader, the Reverend Jesse Jackson and the Reverend Al Sharpton making them eminently worthy, it is one indisputable criteria for defining a legitimate candidate.”
Complete statements from both sides here.

I can't say my vote would go to Mike Gravel in a primary, but I'm glad he's running. His exasperation over play-it-safe-politics is refreshing from a candidate on the national stage, and he provides a kick-you-in-the-nuts alternative to Kucinich if you like the idea of a candidate who wants to end the War in Iraq immediately. Here he is with a mustache:

He's been excluded from a planned New Hampshire debate hosted by CNN, WMUR-TV, and the Union Leader. CNN says this:
"Because Mike Gravel has not demonstrated measurable public support for his campaign to date, he has not received an invitation. But we have not excluded him (or anyone) from the debate. If he meets our criteria between now and the debate, he will certainly get an invitation."
And Mike Gravel says this:
"What was Orwellian in my not meeting certain criteria which the media organizations would not divulge becomes Kafkaesque when I am now told that I have not been excluded and can still be invited if I meet this mysterious criteria."
I think, especially in light of the post-debate interviews that featured Gravel on MSNBC last week, CNN is writing him off as the crazy/longshot candidate, and since Kucinich already fills that role without being as likely to spout off on uncomfortable topics (like in last week's debate, when he laid out how Senators Clinton, Obama, Dodd and Biden could practically end the war by filibuster starting tomorrow, if they really wanted to), they're closing the door on Gravel's face.
Gravel has practically stated outright that he doesn't expect to win the candidacy, much less the Presidency -- he's running to have a national spotlight on the issues he wants to discuss, and I'm grateful for it. When most politicians are more interested in soundbites, and too afraid to be candid with regard to the issues and their beliefs, I'm counting on the occasional crazy old man to stumble into the room and lay out some uncomfortable truths. In Gravel's case it's that, you know, "war is over, if you want it." It's more than likely he'll run out of cash long before the first primary is held in 10 months, but I'd rather the lifespan of his campaign be decided by the support or non-support of the public than by CNN's decision that his voice doesn't deserve to be heard.
Gravel went on to say:
“The statement said that there are literally dozens and dozens of declared presidential candidates. That is true but out of those dozens of candidates, how many are former United States Senators who have been given the stamp of legitimacy by the Democratic National Committee, SEIU, AFSCME, ABC, the Nevada Democratic Party, the Center for American Progress Action Fund etc? Only two, former Senator John Edwards and myself.
“Though this is not the only criteria for deciding the legitimacy of a candidate as other aspirants may have contributed distinguished public service as an appointed official or as an officer of an NGO or excelled as individual public figures such as Ralph Nader, the Reverend Jesse Jackson and the Reverend Al Sharpton making them eminently worthy, it is one indisputable criteria for defining a legitimate candidate.”
Complete statements from both sides here.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Earth Rules, and stuff on it is awesome
My friend sees coyotes in Chicago:

I can't decide if this is awesome or terrifying. I guess it's both.
In other news: there was a naked lady in my driveway earlier. She was sunbathing, so I guess that makes it summertime. Or, it just means I live in California these days.
Also, this is a thing that happened today:
I can't decide if this is awesome or terrifying. I guess it's both.
In other news: there was a naked lady in my driveway earlier. She was sunbathing, so I guess that makes it summertime. Or, it just means I live in California these days.
Also, this is a thing that happened today:
Monday, April 23, 2007
We Are Handsome, and Talented

Ben Costa, Amy Martin, and your humble author, selling our wares at APE in San Francisco, April 21, 2007. Details, memories, dirty secrets to come.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Better Than the Best SURVIVOR Episode Ever
Via Warren Ellis:
"Rep. Dennis Kucinich (D-OH), the former mayor of Cleveland who is seeking the 2008 Democratic nomination for president for the second time, has selected a date to introduce articles of impeachment against Vice President Dick Cheney."
"...Multiple congressional offices confirmed to RAW STORY that they had received the letter, but none had been apprised of the impeachable offenses with which the Ohio Democrat would charge the Vice President."
"Rep. Dennis Kucinich (D-OH), the former mayor of Cleveland who is seeking the 2008 Democratic nomination for president for the second time, has selected a date to introduce articles of impeachment against Vice President Dick Cheney."
"...Multiple congressional offices confirmed to RAW STORY that they had received the letter, but none had been apprised of the impeachable offenses with which the Ohio Democrat would charge the Vice President."
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Command D
So I won't lose it: a run-down on KAMANDI. I love the "world name" Kirby came up with -- "Earth, AD."
Monday, April 16, 2007
TV on the Interweb
Make Internet TV is a website that helps me n' y'all make, um, TV on the internet:
"This guide has step-by-step instructions for shooting, editing, and publishing online videos that can be watched and subscribed to by millions of people.
"Very soon, this site will feature short videos from experienced internet video publishers. If you're interested in sharing your expertise, visit the Make Internet TV (MITV) wiki and find out how."
"This guide has step-by-step instructions for shooting, editing, and publishing online videos that can be watched and subscribed to by millions of people.
"Very soon, this site will feature short videos from experienced internet video publishers. If you're interested in sharing your expertise, visit the Make Internet TV (MITV) wiki and find out how."
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Worldbuilding
Found via Warren Ellis -- it's from M. John Harrison's blog:
"Every moment of a science fiction story must represent the triumph of writing over worldbuilding.
"Worldbuilding is dull. Worldbuilding literalises the urge to invent. Worldbuilding gives an unneccessary permission for acts of writing (indeed, for acts of reading). Worldbuilding numbs the reader’s ability to fulfil their part of the bargain, because it believes that it has to do everything around here if anything is going to get done.
"Above all, worldbuilding is not technically neccessary. It is the great clomping foot of nerdism. It is the attempt to exhaustively survey a place that isn’t there. A good writer would never try to do that, even with a place that is there. It isn’t possible, & if it was the results wouldn’t be readable: they would constitute not a book but the biggest library ever built, a hallowed place of dedication & lifelong study. This gives us a clue to the psychological type of the worldbuilder & the worldbuilder’s victim, & makes us very afraid."
"Every moment of a science fiction story must represent the triumph of writing over worldbuilding.
"Worldbuilding is dull. Worldbuilding literalises the urge to invent. Worldbuilding gives an unneccessary permission for acts of writing (indeed, for acts of reading). Worldbuilding numbs the reader’s ability to fulfil their part of the bargain, because it believes that it has to do everything around here if anything is going to get done.
"Above all, worldbuilding is not technically neccessary. It is the great clomping foot of nerdism. It is the attempt to exhaustively survey a place that isn’t there. A good writer would never try to do that, even with a place that is there. It isn’t possible, & if it was the results wouldn’t be readable: they would constitute not a book but the biggest library ever built, a hallowed place of dedication & lifelong study. This gives us a clue to the psychological type of the worldbuilder & the worldbuilder’s victim, & makes us very afraid."
And when you are done you sit on it
Cave Story, an 8-bit style video game with very basic controls and a whole lotta plot. I played for about two hours tonight, and I still get flustered when I fight a Boss -- having the movement keys on my right and the action keys on my left is almost too much for my Nintendo-trained brain to handle. But it's fun, and it has a video game kind of storytelling technique that might be interesting to use in a certain upcoming comics project ... our hero wakes up with no memory of his past, in a strange land where rabbit-folk need his help ...
Also this, from Jame Kochalka's Cute Manifesto, specifically the essay "Craft is the Enemy":
"You could labor your whole life perfecting your 'craft,' struggling to draw better, hoping one day to have the skills to produce a truly great comic ... If this is how you are thinking you will never produce this great comic, this powerful work of art, that you dream of. There's nothing wrong with trying to draw well, but that is not of primary importance.
"What every creator should do, must do, is use the skills they have right now. A great masterpiece is within reach if only your will power is strong enough (just like Green Lantern)."
And then, from "Craft Is Not A Friend":
"Creating a powerful work of art is like running and leaping across a chasm. It takes all of your strength and you'll be dashed on the rocks and fall to your death. Being a craftsman is like sitting in your woodshop all day carefully building a chair and when you are done you sit on it."
That, and a well-timed and well-worded email from a certain Amy Martin, was what I needed to get my writerly head back in a good place today. Another of the day's victories was when I narrowly avoided supergluing my fingers to an Abe Lincoln button ... although there are worse things to have permanently stuck to your hand.
Go read American Elf. Read it every day.
Also this, from Jame Kochalka's Cute Manifesto, specifically the essay "Craft is the Enemy":
"You could labor your whole life perfecting your 'craft,' struggling to draw better, hoping one day to have the skills to produce a truly great comic ... If this is how you are thinking you will never produce this great comic, this powerful work of art, that you dream of. There's nothing wrong with trying to draw well, but that is not of primary importance.
"What every creator should do, must do, is use the skills they have right now. A great masterpiece is within reach if only your will power is strong enough (just like Green Lantern)."
And then, from "Craft Is Not A Friend":
"Creating a powerful work of art is like running and leaping across a chasm. It takes all of your strength and you'll be dashed on the rocks and fall to your death. Being a craftsman is like sitting in your woodshop all day carefully building a chair and when you are done you sit on it."
That, and a well-timed and well-worded email from a certain Amy Martin, was what I needed to get my writerly head back in a good place today. Another of the day's victories was when I narrowly avoided supergluing my fingers to an Abe Lincoln button ... although there are worse things to have permanently stuck to your hand.
Go read American Elf. Read it every day.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
A BoingBoing kind of day

BoingBoing also has this picture today, from a blogger who has "a small collection of photos of mothers disguised as chairs."
Another one
This Vonnegut quote turned up on BoingBoing:
"Do you know what a Humanist is? I am honorary president of the American Humanist Association, having succeeded the late, great science fiction writer Isaac Asimov in that functionless capacity. We Humanists try to behave well without any expectation of rewards or punishments in an afterlife. We serve as best we can the only abstraction with which we have any real familiarity, which is our community.
"We had a memorial services for Isaac a few years back, and at one point I said, "Isaac is up in Heaven now." It was the funniest thing I could have said to a group of Humanists. I rolled them in the aisles. It was several minutes before order could be restored. And if I should ever die, God forbid, I hope you will say, "Kurt is up in Heaven now." That's my favorite joke."
"Do you know what a Humanist is? I am honorary president of the American Humanist Association, having succeeded the late, great science fiction writer Isaac Asimov in that functionless capacity. We Humanists try to behave well without any expectation of rewards or punishments in an afterlife. We serve as best we can the only abstraction with which we have any real familiarity, which is our community.
"We had a memorial services for Isaac a few years back, and at one point I said, "Isaac is up in Heaven now." It was the funniest thing I could have said to a group of Humanists. I rolled them in the aisles. It was several minutes before order could be restored. And if I should ever die, God forbid, I hope you will say, "Kurt is up in Heaven now." That's my favorite joke."
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
So it goes.
The NYT is reporting that Kurt Vonnegut has passed away:
"He was 84 and had homes in Manhattan and in Sagaponack on Long Island.
"His death was reported by Morgan Entrekin, a longtime family friend, who said Mr. Vonnegut suffered brain injuries as a result of a fall several weeks ago."
The article goes on to talk about Slaughterhouse-Five, of course:
"The defining moment of Mr. Vonnegut’s life was the firebombing of Dresden, Germany, by Allied forces in 1945, an event he witnessed firsthand as a young prisoner of war. Thousands of civilians were killed in the raids, many of them burned to death or asphyxiated. “The firebombing of Dresden,” Mr. Vonnegut wrote, “was a work of art.” It was, he added, “a tower of smoke and flame to commemorate the rage and heartbreak of so many who had had their lives warped or ruined by the indescribable greed and vanity and cruelty of Germany.”"
But they touch on the hope that lived in his stories, too:
"To Mr. Vonnegut, the only possible redemption for the madness and apparent meaninglessness of existence was human kindness. The title character in his 1965 novel, “God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater,” summed up his philosophy:
“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’ ”"

Goddammit, you've got to be kind.
"He was 84 and had homes in Manhattan and in Sagaponack on Long Island.
"His death was reported by Morgan Entrekin, a longtime family friend, who said Mr. Vonnegut suffered brain injuries as a result of a fall several weeks ago."
The article goes on to talk about Slaughterhouse-Five, of course:
"The defining moment of Mr. Vonnegut’s life was the firebombing of Dresden, Germany, by Allied forces in 1945, an event he witnessed firsthand as a young prisoner of war. Thousands of civilians were killed in the raids, many of them burned to death or asphyxiated. “The firebombing of Dresden,” Mr. Vonnegut wrote, “was a work of art.” It was, he added, “a tower of smoke and flame to commemorate the rage and heartbreak of so many who had had their lives warped or ruined by the indescribable greed and vanity and cruelty of Germany.”"
But they touch on the hope that lived in his stories, too:
"To Mr. Vonnegut, the only possible redemption for the madness and apparent meaninglessness of existence was human kindness. The title character in his 1965 novel, “God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater,” summed up his philosophy:
“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’ ”"

Goddammit, you've got to be kind.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
We won't hear your dreams, unless you really, really want us to
The house is bigger than anyone can tell. No, bigger isn't the word - it's the size of a house, as it should be. But it's more expansive inside, there are balconies without a clear path to reach them. And once reached, without a clear path away. But again, "balcony" isn't the right word - "loft" is better.
The point: the outside has four walls, and clearly defined beginnings and beginnings, but on the inside there are doors that open, and no map to where they lead.
There's a boy there, and a girl. They have shared history. They're acquaintances, but here's the thing: they are closer now than they ever were before, not because of a thing that they've gone through, but because of a thing they haven't gone through quite yet. Time goes both directions. They don't have the memories yet of what they'll experience, but they have the inner knowledge of what the experiences will bring.
The point: the outside has four walls, and clearly defined beginnings and beginnings, but on the inside there are doors that open, and no map to where they lead.
There's a boy there, and a girl. They have shared history. They're acquaintances, but here's the thing: they are closer now than they ever were before, not because of a thing that they've gone through, but because of a thing they haven't gone through quite yet. Time goes both directions. They don't have the memories yet of what they'll experience, but they have the inner knowledge of what the experiences will bring.
Questions Raised, Never Answered
"There's mystery in the world, and we don't get all the answers ... seldom is a thing truly exhausted and known completely, and when it is, it cast aside as an empty husk, learned and experienced, but also forgotten. It becomes the empty shell of a mollusk, wrapping paper, a conveyor of something, but not the thing itself. It was once experienced and loved, but is now forgotten - it never remains the thing of affection.
"But a person, or a time, loved and taken away, or explored but not fully known - that is the thing. That becomes song, or poetry, it is remembered with longing and never forgotten. It becomes what endures."
"But a person, or a time, loved and taken away, or explored but not fully known - that is the thing. That becomes song, or poetry, it is remembered with longing and never forgotten. It becomes what endures."
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