Sheesh.

So, dramantic renewal of purpose.

For those of you who enjoyed the last go around, I'm bringing back the fiction blog for a new experiment. I'm going to try and right a serialized short novel in 100 or so entries...and a novel that's loose enough that I can incorporate something of the variety of styles I tried to bring to the short subject stuff in Experiment #1.

I've been kicking it around for some time. I've gotten a few entries ready, just so I can hopefully stay ahead of the curve for a bit. However, as these are all, more or less, more than a page, I'm going to be knocking back delivery to 3 days a week. Right now, I'm thinking Monday-Wednesday-Friday. (If this was all I did, I could probably do more, but with actual *paying* jobs and some art stuff, I gotta fit this in when I can.)

Come Monday, September 8th....check in at: http://friendsofjunior.blogspot.com/

You can be in on the ground floor. You can have your pulse on the thumb of what's cool. You can make me look like I have friends, fans AND supporters.

How lucky are you?...I'd say you're pretty damnèd lucky.

Cheers.

(And someday...soon...I'll...uh...get back to posting some stuff here...promise...maybe)

Ever Been in a Cockpit, Jimmy?
"Where to, sailor?"

Being in the driver's seat of one's life must feel great. Before then though, I'd just like to get a rein on and a direction in the creative work I've been doing. (Getting paid...well...getting paid consistently for it would be the next big milestone.)

Anyhow, my contract with Southern California has been renewed for a least another six months. Now the question is how to make that count.

I've spent the last week gathering together my materials to start making submissions to literary agents on my second novel. Now that's not to say that I don't hope to sell the first or the third one, I just think that No. 2 is the most accessible, well written, and potentially marketable. (The first one's an enormous beast, and the third's a prequel of sorts to a much larger book I plan to write at some point.) It's been a bit of labor to get all the various elements together for what each of these agencies want for submissions, and I've about got all of them written up. My only concern (as I'm more than a little on the impatient side) is that while my query letter might get a response in as little as a week, once I send them the book, it could be several months before they side if they want to sign me up and push this thing.

Also, while I consider the book more of a satire than anything, it does take place in "the future"...sort of. A lot of the places that sound like they might go for my kind of material often state that they don't do science fiction. Well, Kurt Vonnegut never considered himself a science fiction writer despite the sci-fi elements in many of his books...but unfortunately, I'm not Kurt...or one of his kids...or the guy that mowed his lawn. So we shall see...

Next, I'm still wrestling with what to do with my fiction blog. I've decided to try to do another 100 entries, and come up with a short serialized novel. The problem is that I've got so many other projects swirling around in my head, I haven't had time to come up with a concept for it. Lately, though, I've been missing the discipline of sitting down and either warming up or cooling down after a day of working on other stuff by writing my one new page of fiction. That's one thing I've learned about blogging, like most things extra-curricular (exercise, painting, etc.) from career: It's easy to maintain if you keep yourself doing it, but the minute you fall off, it can be really hard to get back on the horse.

I will, however, be trying to pull together that anthology of the first 100 entries. After all, it's nice to print something out and hold it in your hands...even if it's not got a price tag and a glossy cover at the corner Borders.

Ok, ok, I'll also admit that I do miss writing the occasional poem...haha...something I never thought I'd feel. And call me aggro, but I can't remember the last person I met who called themselves a poet that I didn't want to punch in the face. Of course that leads me onto a whole thing about how it's mostly the rich and/or in some ways privileged who actually get to make a living at playing artist these days.

Anyhow feel free to send in any comments and suggestions about what you think you might like to see.

I've got one idea for the serialized novel...but I'm a little worried that it's a little too "dirty" to be out there in the open on a bright screen. And I thought about playing down the more shocking elements...but...haha...suppressed filth, especially half decently written suppressed filth tends to be oh so much dirtier than just out and out filth.

What a wonderful world.

Cheers.

This is RJE With The News...
And Tracey with the Weather...

I'll bet some of you thought that perhaps I'd finally made true my dreams disappearing into the icy peaks between Bhutan and Nepal...well, maybe i have...but the point is, I'm sure some of you were rapt with excitement when I posted that survey the other day. Proof that I was alive, well, and still making asinine answers to even more asinine questions. It made me proud to do it.

Things have been...well, things.

Thus far, two of my three goals have been achieved before the onset of August that will determine how much longer I invest in southern California. I made a quick jaunt over to Texas to visit with family. I bought a book on boobs. I wrote the opening of a music video. And I've eaten six packets of blueberry flavored applesauce. Sounds like a pretty full plate, does it not? (Even if you don't know what the two out of three goals mentioned above was...)

Most importantly, my art show came to pass. Through a twist of fate, I was able to show two pieces, although I could only sell one of them. Ah, the exposure. Did I sell the one? I have no idea as of yet. This Sunday, I either pick up the check or the painting.

But a show. A real show. I had a piece in a really real show. That was exciting as all get out. Prior to this, I've only done things privately, or on commission. No one, until now, had ever thought to stick something I'd painted up in a gallery for strangers (well, some of them) to see. The whole thing was rather thrilling.

True, I was but one of 30+ artists who through something up...but it was a big piece...people were bound to notice it. (If you'd like to see it, it's in my photos section...the one with the big Bruce Lee at the bottom). And though I tried not to be obnoxious about it...I did occasionally hang out nearby to see if people were looking at it. They did.

I've been invited to participate in another show in October, which is a thrilling prospect. I know it may seem suspect to the more jaded among you out there (who are clicking your tongue at ME for daring to refer to anyone else as jaded), but that's a huge thing. Someone wants me to show this goofy stuff that I occasionally splash on canvas. They're actually asking me to show it.

Alright. I threaten to gush.

The next great piece of creative triumph is that I finished the first wave of my fiction experiment over at my Friends of Junior blog: One hundred pages of original fiction for four to five days a week. It's a helluva lot tougher than it sounds. Orginally, they were all going to be single page entries, but over time, if I managed to write two full pages then I counted it as two entries. I figured that was fair, and only a few went for three. No sense in stopping yourself when you're on a roll.

Now I've got two issues to face with the blog.

The first is what to do next with it. It was both a huge help and something of a heavy yoke to get an entry done every day (although in the last few weeks I was writing them two at a time...it was something of a streak). I said I'd do it and I did. Overall, it helped as a warm up or a cool down to the rest of my creative endeavors I'd worked on during the day. Also, as they were short and without a larger framework, it allowed me to let my mind wander and the old imagination fly a bit as well as provide a vehicle to do some exercises in other styles. But where to go from here? I'm thinking of doing a serialized book...although more like a comic strip without drawings (or maybe I will do some drawings....)...and just fill in a page a day. I don't know what the subjects going to be. Some have suggested doing a full-length adventure of the joke sci-fi character, Mash Jordan, that I'd already "created" (let's face it...haha...he's thinly disguised...and he's what I fell back on when I couldn't come up with anything else and the clock was ticking). Others say, do something new. And a minority thinks I should keep doing the completely different short stuff. (Anyone want some more of my poetry?!?)

The second is what to do with the material I've already done for it. Originally, I intended to put it all together for an anthology that I could put up for sale. Part of me still wants to do that, but my concern is that a few of those ideas I'm thinking of expanding into full length short stories I could submit to contests or magazines. Sometimes they aren't so keen if it's already been published. Guess I'll find out. I'll let you all know either way.

Finally, I'm putting together my materials to try to find me a lit agent to sell one of these goofy novels I've written. If anyone has any suggestions, chime on in. So far, it's gotten some good reviews from the couple of people I've shown it to. Also, I'm almost a quarter of the way through my fourth book. It's finally taking some shape, and starting to come together.

Well...wish me luck. I wish you luck. Back to the snowshoes.

Cheers.

Fighting Eastwood, Bond, and the Excorcist in Hell
What Bruce Lee’s been up to lately...

In our heart of hearts, I think most everyone has to admit: in general, Bruce Lee's movies weren't very good. Or, at least, they didn't really live up to the aura and charisma surrounding the man himself. But even that's not exactly fair, since Bruce's own forays into writer-director seemed a touch misguided. I guess I'll just leave it at Bruce's movies were a mixed bag, watchable but not quite the classics we've turned them into. (Enter the Dragon is probably still the top...but I still won't forgive them for killing off Jim Kelly instead of John Saxon.)

However, despite the continued steady stream of martial arts madness from the Shaw Brothers and Golden Harvest, Bruce's death left a void. So in order to exploit the love of the fans and the box office weight of his name, an explosion of knock-offs hit the screens in what is now collectively known in the genre film world as Bruceploitation.

Most of these movies involved investigating Bruce's death, stories about Bruce faking his own death, and stories about Bruce coming back from the dead (as well as the occasional biopic or pseudo-sequel.) But only one that I've found deals with what movie-world Bruce did WHILE he was dead. I give you:

DRAGON LIVES AGAIN (1977, d. Kei Law)

The Story: (This is a tough one) Bruce awakes in the underworld, and must help it's citizens defy the Lord of the Underworld, as well as stop a plot against the Lord of the Underworld led by the "Excorcist" and the "Godfather" (I'm not kidding...and it gets worse...just keep reading).

The Review: There's no real way to review this in any realistic sense, and any attempt to do so would make the reviewer look like an idiot. No one watched these movies for their cinematic integrity when they came out, and no one watches them for that now. Having said that, I'll sort of do it anyway.

The plot is bad and not even so much full of holes as just largely incomprehensible or seeming as though whole scenes were either made up or torn out. The acting looks pretty bad, but I'll give them a couple of grains of salt as the dubbing is even worse. That also makes it hard to flat out call the dialogue bad (although no English speaking person on Earth speaks this way...I hope), but I think it's safe to assume that even in it's native tongue it's still pretty bad. The sets are bad (just in case you were hoping for some cool hyper-stylized view of the afterlife that some Asian movies have), and consist primarily of the Kung Fu Movie Anytown and the Rock Quarry that everyone always seem to get to whenever it's time to fight. The costumes are...well...we'll get to them in a second.

So, is this thing watchable? Except for being a bad pan & scan copy from VHS...ABSOLUTELY!

As the film opens, we've already got a nunchucks as boner jokes as Bruce wakes up in the underworld, but if you look in the background there's a guard with a strange, huge horsehead helmet on. I was already sold. Bruce, here played by Siu-Lung Leung (The Beast from Stephen Chow's Kung Fu Hustle), does not look like Bruce Lee because, as the ladies of the Lord of the Underworld's harem explain, people's faces change when they die. Fair enough. Leung does a decent job of mugging BL-style, although he over does it with the thumb-to-the-nose bit.

Bruce leaves the Lord of the Underworld's lair to go to...uh...the Underworld city. At a restaurant, after meeting Popeye and Caine from Kung Fu (both played by Chinese guys), he gets into a fight with Zatoichi (who probably does the best at mimicking the original character...sort of). This leads to the arrival of the Man with No Name (the Clint Eastwood character), played by a Chinse guy with fake stubble and a sort of black face make-up, and James Bond, played by a white guy who looks none of the gents to have ever played 007. Oh yes, and they have a bunch of guys in leotards with skeletons painted on them who manage to kick Bruce's @$$ somehow in a psychedelic display that's not explained...

To be honest, I'm not even sure how much more I should explain. This thing really has to be seen. I haven't even gotten to the fight with Dracula or contemplating why "The Excorcist" (who I assume is supposed to be Von Sydow's Father Merrin) has a French accent and is getting cozy with Emmanuelle (yup, that one).

So in keeping with this movie's random hodgepodge of elements, I will say that I kept thinking randomly of the pseudepigrapha book, The Gospel of Nicodemus (or the Acts of Pilate), wherein Jesus, during the three days of his death, descends into Hell to kick some @$$ and free some souls. Well, that's not exactly what he does, but remember what I was watching while thinking this.

Moving on, this film also features an excess of gratuitous nudity that was as largely as inexplicable as most of the rest of the proceedings...except perhaps when Emmanuelle tries to kill the Lord Underworld with some sort of orgasmic vibrations. (In case your wondering, she's foiled when Bruce shows up, for no apparent reason, in his Kato costume from the Green Hornet.)

Also, two times, a facsimile of Jimmy Wang Yu's One Armed Swordsman shows up. One of those times, it's to fight mummies.

I've said to much already, and without mentioning the strange subtitles during the fight scenes...which, I think were meant to be funny...and kind of...uh...well, weren't.

All in all, for this blend of comedic randomness squashed between overlong fight scenes, I'd rater watch Sonny Chiba in The Executioner, but that movie doesn't even hold a candle to this movie's sheer inanity.

Watch it, if for nothing more, than the ten minute long credit sequence of bizarre costume changes and choreography...

I don't know how to end this...so I'll end it...Oh, there was a sort of plot, Bruce wants to come back to Earth...or something like that.

Cheers.

Should I Stay or Should I Go Go Go...
Another reason to beat up the guy who invented the clock...or the hourglass for that matter...

You can't worry about yesterday, cuz it's already gone. You can't worry about tomorrow, cuz it may not come. But you can't exactly live every day like it's your last, cuz it just might not be so.

Jiminey X-mas, I have got entirely too much time for introspection...

Over time, I've gotten obsessed with time, and like I just said, that could just be the result of having too much time to obsess about it. Like that thing about the devil's hands, or idle hands for the devil, or sympathy for the devil, or whatever it was. Anyhow, the point is that I should feel pretty zen as I try to draw on the errors of the past, make sure I exist in the presence, and have some indication of where I want the future to take me. I don't feel that way just yet...but I'm still working on it.

Like regret, that's a tricky one. Everyone's got at least a little bit of some, and some have got it by the compost heap load. I guess it's all in how you handle it. I've got some, but not always on the stuff you would think it would be for. Like I don't have any regrets about anything I should've done for or said to my sister before she died, but I do wish I'd've gotten more out of my college experience in the way of education instead of just chomping at the bit to finally have it all over with. I loved my sister and she new it, but while I've always loved learning, I hated school. That's how it adds up. Go figure.

Anyhow, it's there, and I feel it from time to time. And what draws it out even more, if you're like me and over-analyze the hell out of things, is when you consider it against a framework of what's happening to you now or what's comin' down the pipe. Now, that all depends on how you feel about stuff like predestination or free will: Did you do it, or was it decided for you?

Some people like the destiny idea, haha, especially when everything's working out for them. "I always knew that I'd be standing here one day holding this award." I'm sure that's glossing it up some, icing over the doubts of the past, but at that moment, that's probably exactly how it feels. On the flip side, no one likes to look at the homeless guy or the homicidal maniac and think "Hey, that's what I'm destined for!" And if they do, well, perhaps they should already be in the padded cell.

I know I'm oversimplifying. Some people do feel that some of the bad things, the really bad things they chose to do in their lives were out of necessity. They feel they had no choice other than the one they followed. Maybe that's true.

Others, of course, feel like you live your life, make your choices, and you get to whatever end the path you chose took you down. Definitely seems a whole lot more grounded, and when you dig into someone's path, you do sometimes find that the choices they made did, in fact, get them where they are now. Kind of a direct cause and effect type thing: You drink a gallon of gin every day, you probably will become an alky who wakes up in gutters.

Now, like I said, it's probably a whole lot easier on the mind to trace your steps and see the causes and effects of your decisions and their outcomes. But then there's them little moments of serendipity where things just lined up and worked in your favor. You got what you prayed/wished/hoped for against staggering odds. Well, how do you explain those if everything else is the rational result of your choices?

If we keep going down this path, we open up a whole slew of other possibilities with things like luck vs. probability. I'm sure that if you got enough mathematicians, statisticians, and computers to run theoretical probability of most anything...well, the math could probably figure out exactly what the odds are of whatever happened to you happening to you. Those answers though, may still be too wild to accept completely without considering some unquantifiable outside source...(Note: I haven't even brought God/Buddha/Zeus/Gaia/That Spaghetti Monster Thing into this...we'd be here all day.)

After all, haven't you met people who things always seem to come through for (the lucky), those who always have things tank (the unlucky) in and amongst the either/or majority? And it's always made me wonder (and a few other people, I might add) on whether it's possible to reverse that polarity: lucky to unlucky, or vice versa? And that brings us back to the whole destiny/choice thing: Are you destined to be lucky? Are you destined to have your luck run out? Or are you lucky as long as you keep making the right choices, and it falls off sharply once you start making wrong ones?

That's assuming there even is luck, destiny, or any of the above.

I think if you've gotten to this point, you'll realize that I've given this a whole lot of thought. Also, in case you'd like any conclusions on all of the above...well, you're luck either changed to the bad, or you're unlucky streak is about to continue...and/or you were destined for disappointment...or the choice you made to read this set you up to be let down....because the sad fact of the matter is, I haven't come to any conclusions about this. Like I said, I just think about it too much.

Anyhow, I am running some clinical tests on it all. Not scientific tests, I've only got me, so there's no control group. I've set up some time limits on destiny, and we're going to see where my luck and choices will take me. Otherwise, this time next year I may have relocated to work out some regrets both new and old.

Cheers.

(postscipt: I am a sixth of the way through my fiction experiment. If you haven't already, check it out at http://friendsofjunior.blogspot.com )

Will Said Skills Pay the Bills?
A study in...well...what I do all day...

I’m the busiest person I know that isn’t currently earning any money.

I like to look at it as fame and fortune in the potential sense. Just like putting a ball at the edge of a table where it might tip off represents some form of potential energy. Or something like that. I never said theoretical physics were my strong point.

Seriously, though. I’m working hard. In between doing the occasional job search, and sending out a resumé or two.

First off, so many new creatives seem to keep getting found through blogs. This one hasn’t done me much good in terms of fame (though I’m always impressed by how many folks read it), and my original one didn’t have the powers that be knocking down the door. Secretly, I suspect it was my twenty page analysis of the Italian space opera Starcrash that caused that blog to jump the shark.

So I’ve started my new one: the fraction of new fiction nearly every day of the week. I’m nearly ten entries in to my goal of one hundred, and so far so good. Although, I’m wondering if it’s a bad sign that I’ve already dipped into the bag of tricks for the poem. Anyhow, it’s a fun exercise and it gets me warmed up (and closer to Carpal Tunnel Syndrome) each day, before I...

Work on my new book. Yes, I’ve started a new piece of fiction, and it’s going pretty well I’d say. Granted, those of you who know me might ask yourself, "Who the hell is he writing these things for if he never sells any of them?", and you’d be 100% correct. Oh, because that’s the other thing I’m doing: researching agents and publishers. Hopefully in the next few weeks, I’m going to start carpet bombing the publishing world with my text...OR, try to figure out how to get them edited to just publish them myself (with less typos) if all else fails. Anyhow, I try to hack off a few pages of that every day, before I...

Go out for a walk to the Barnes & Noble that is nearby to research usually one of two things: the aforementioned publishing world, or web design information. Some of you may say, "can’t you find this stuff on the internet?" Well, yes and no. I’ve found that most publishing info on the net can be anywhere from vaguely helpful to disturbingly spurious, AND everyone seems to want a little cash up front for what might be bogus info inside. As for the web design...some stuff helps and some stuff assumes you already know a lot, and my catalogue of info’s too hodgepodge. Mostly, though, it’s an excuse to get out of the house, it just helps that it allows me to peruse information in books that I either wouldn’t buy or are too expensive to buy right now. So that all gets done, before I...

Well, usually between my break and dinner, I work on other small projects. It might be some experiments with the web stuff I’ve been reading about. It might be some work on some design-oriented artwork I’ve been working on. It might be working on one of the short scripts I’ve been juggling for a couple of friends. But, primarily, now, it’s been the new feature screenplay I’ve cooked up. This was largely due to the realization that I’ve let my feature work slide too far to the side, and I need a new calling card screenplay to try and get me an agent or something like one. I’ve usually got something worked out on screen or on paper, before I...

I’ve been gettin’ skinnier from all this walking back and forth to the B&N (along with other exercise I try to fit in)...but also from my largely vegetarian light diet I’ve been munchin’ on. I didn’t mention lunch above...but I eat it too. Also, during these times of sustenance, I usually watch the Daily Show, read some blogs or websites, peruse more job listings, watch movie trailers, and so on. So, it’s a little dinner and some entertainment, before I...

From dinner until the time I go to bed, I’ve been painting. I used to have the worst time shifting gears between writing and painting, but necessity is the mother of invention. As I’m sure I’ve mentioned (and gushed about), I have a piece in a show in April. I’m excited about that, and I’m excited about doing more artwork for the first time in a long time. I’m actually inspired. I’ve got a running list of ideas for work, when in the past, I only thought of something one at a time over considerable stretches. Problem is, I don’t have enough of a catalogue of work (anyone remember the Great Flood?)...and the kind of stuff I’m doing takes a good while...however, I’m doing what I can and chipping away at it a little bit every evening. I just want to be ready.

Will any or all of this pay off? That’s the million dollar question, and what I’m waiting to find out. I’ve got lots of little apples floating in the sky in terms of potential income...and I’m looking for a real job...and representation...and trying to shore up my body of work for all of the above. So I’m feeling pretty positive that something’s going to pay off...and hopefully sooner rather than later.

(Don’t worry...Professor Positive here will find something to b!tch about...probably within a day or so...)

After More Than a Decade of Silence...
I broke out my Rhymes...Someone tell the streets...

(For my new writing project (here at: http://friendsofjunior.blogspot.com/ ), I wrote my first poem in probably...12-15 years...it's probably not gonna win me that Poet Laureate post, but I figured I'd share it.)

Atop the wind and through the blighted snow,
A dark form led by a rusted pistol.
Light falls dim, but the whiteness holds the glow,
The crusted center of a clear crystal.
The lurching figure brings little but woe,
Against the white, a shadow most wistful.
Behind, his footfalls burn stark cold to mud,
A trail of tramplings, ringèd red with blood.

He searches not lustful jewel or gold,
The beloved symbols of man’s precious boon,
No warmth, no bright shelter sought through the cold
Nor ghost ferry across to the moon.
The goal of his trek his spirit does hold,
The result of a wrong done in time now old.
At the end of a trail of rough red slush,
An ember of black hate to feel the crush.

A town far behind, a tavern stinking,
A long bar, wooden floor with sawdust strewn.
More whisky, more wine, the time for drinking.
Merriment turns to misery too soon.
From the doorway the men begin shrinking,
Evil arrived bringing a flood of maroon.
One after the next they fell with a thud,
Only one survived this deep crimson flood.

Ahead a frozen tree amidst the ice,
A wind burned monument of wintry strife.
Against which, a body, a goal to entice,
A fight, a struggle, the form of a knife.
But to the wind, this rogue has paid the price,
A lump, a stone, a statue, bereft of life.
No duel, no justice, no fate by daggers.
Into the future, onward, he staggers.

Always before him, the frosted barrel,
Forever encrusted with windswept blades.
It guides, it searches a most mortal peril,
The future beyond still hidden in shades.
Our hunter, the wild makes ever more feral,
The hero, a conqueror of cold Hades.
Behind, his footfalls burn stark cold to mud,
A trail of tramplings, ringèd red with blood.

Toe First...Into the Barrel of Monkeys...
Just thinking out loud...with a keyboard...and a beer...

From what more than a few reputable sources tell me...content is no longer king...the purveyance of said worthless content has usurped the throne (although they've always had a pretty good hold on it...).

I'd say that's roughly true.

Entertainment is no longer made by the few for the many. When you step back and look at it, the truth of the matter is that the accusation of media being left-winged commies is only partly wrong. I'm not saying that every media corporation (with the exception of Fox, of course) really are leftist Jew liberal socialist granola eaters (although some of the members just might be) as the more conservative side has often posited. But the means to create said media have definitely been deposited in the hands of proleteriat, comrade.

Once upon a time, a typewriter was a significant purchase, and a film camera a pipe dream. Then a computer was a significant purchase, and an early forty pound video camera was owned by the few. Now computers are nearly ubiquitous and a high end hi-def video camera can be had by virtually anyone who can afford the computer.

Stepping over those two little roadblocks, access to the tools necessary to edit and polish one's own content is only a stone's throw away. The means of dispensing it to the public has also come into one's own hands. It would appear that you're home free...and that you could be a super-star in no time...but wait...there's a catch...

For one, it depends on what you do. If you're like me, and you write stuff...well, less and less people read and fewer people than that want to pay for what you wrote. To a degree, movies are scrambling to keep you in the theater...but even at your best, you're not going to make the next Star Wars at home (at least not if you plan on finishing it in 10 years). If you're a musician...well things haven't changed that much...although you now can receive all the royalties to your music: who's to say how many people will buy it, and of those, how many are just going to pass it along to their other friends, gratis. Looks like T-shirts and touring's still your bread and butter...

So, in many ways, the bottom has dropped out of content. However, if you can manage the site or service that provides that content (especially if it can hold lots and lots of advertising of one kind or another), then you just might be able to wipe your butt with hundred dollar bills soon enough. For instance, I write this blog for MySpace, Blogger, etc. and despite possibly giving you a few seconds enjoyment, I will see nary a dime for it (which, despite the kevitching in this article, is fine...haha...I do these for fun). The providers, however, are paid to place advertisements all around my scribbledy-gook, and they do get paid for it either in a traffic agreement (like TV ads) or a per-click basis.

Granted, I could on some sites tap into a little of that myself with AdSense or what have you...but the operative word is "little". And while technically I'm being paid to write something popular that brings the people in, mostly, it's all determined by whether or not someone hit the button for the free ringtone in the corner, and signed up for junkmail.

So...that's what I've been wrestling with now: how to get paid to produce content when the gap between the unwashed heathen masses who fill Youtube to the brim with their shenanigans and the untouchable gods of the hillsides rake in the cash for it.

I believe it can be done...but it's a matter of figuring out how...and staying clean and vaguely respectable at the same time...

On a side note...my experiment's going along well...though it's far too early to tell...Post 003 went up today and I'm quite proud of it for a quickie one-off...take a look at: http://friendsofjunior.blogspot.com/

And So Did It Begin...And Lo, Thy People Did Rejoice...
And they feasted upon the lambs...and sloths...oh you know...

So...I got up late this morning...and I've discovered that the day continues to get later, despite my best efforts. Now it's nearly two in post-meridian...and I've a move-on to make...

That having been unnecessarily said with much convolution...please take a stroll over to:

http://friendsofjunior.blogspot.com/

And view my first post of the first batch of 100. I'm going to keep trying to crank somethin' out for 4-5 days out of every week for at least 100 entries. Some might argue that it would be best if I wrote complete thoughts, plots, and/or ideas...and I say to them: how do you know I'm not.

Enjoy.

(postscript: don't think I'm going to ignore all my li'l pretty ones while I'm doing this...I'll be back here from time to time....I promise.)

Crises Nearly Complete...Film At Eleven...
I'm trying to...uh...be more...uh...sheesh...uh...Assertive...

So...

How is everybody today? That's good to hear...Aww, I didn't know that...Congratulations...Oh, tell her 'hi' for me...I hope Jimmy gets his leg back, those bites can be nasty...

Now that we've gotten past the preliminaries....

I think I'm nearly over my crises concerning my life, where it's going, and what the hell I'm going to do with it. I've started looking for some regular jobby-jobs (any help is well appreciated...resumés available upon request)...but I've realized that what I really like to do is write stories (not necessarily movies...but I like doing them too) and paint pretty pictures. Unfortunately, there's no guarantee that even if you're really good that anyone's going to pay you for that...but I'm seeing what I can do. (Anyone know any publishers...?)

You probably don't remember, and I don't blame you, that a few months ago...in fact, probably at least a year ago now, I may have mentioned that I had a little experiment I was going to try. It basically entailed me trying to write a novel in 100 days, and all of you could read along as I went. Well, in case I never mentioned it, I wrote that novel...it's just that you didn't get to read along.

See, I was thinking like a cartoonist. I wanted to get ahead first so that in case things came up, I'd still be able to post industry. A li'l cushion before the pushin' if you will. Well, I got things planned out, and I wrote the first couple of entries...and one thing led to another and I finished it. So anyhow...one day I might still share it...in fact, I really want to...just not that way...("It's called With Friends Like These, Junior..."...by the way)

Anyhow, for those of you who may have been excited...and I know that that's probably all of you...I'm going ahead with the experiment, but I'm going to do something a little different. Each day I'm going to write at least one 8.5" x 11" sheet of paper's worth of material for at least four days out of every week. When I get to 100 entries, I'm going to make an anthology that I'll be all too thrilled to try and sell...potentially I'm going to try for 300.

As for content...well, it might be whole short stories, it might be fragments, it might be really random dribbeldy-poop, it might be half-baked bad jokes...come to think of it, the whole thing might be a half-baked bad joke. I'm hoping that it makes some sort of cosmic sense even in the potential chaos and nonsense. So I suppose if you like my bulletin entries...you'll might just love this...

So whattya think? Sound like fun?

I'm setting up the space for it now, and will probably begin in a week or so....or so I hope. I'll post the link once the madness gets well underway. (I'm also entertaining the thought of making podcasts or something of me reading the choicer entries...we'll see...)

Tell your friends. Bring it to the streets. Shout it from the hills.

Here I come baby...I'm comin' to GETCHA!

Cheers.

Safely past Quarter...I'm onto the Third/Life Crises...
What the he!! am I doing and what should I be doing?

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...

I come before you today, to ask your advice in helping me to make the decision that fate just ain't givin' me enough evidence to make all on my cuddly lonesome...

Truth is...my love for the movies and the process of movie-making these days hasn't quite turned out to be what I had thought it would be. Also, if there was that fun niche I was supposed to trip and fall into...well, it's maybe the first and only time I ain't been clumsy enough. And though I still would love to be a part of the process, I don't know that it's what I want to be doing anymore at this stage of the game.

The ironic part is that one of the primary reasons I chose this industry was a) the love I had for the movin' pictures as a youth and b) the fact that it is an industry, a proper business of sorts (ie. somethin' you should be able to make money at). Couple that with the facts that I humored myself as being smarter than the average bear, and I didn't come out here expecting there to be a director's chair waitin' for me. I figured I was golden. After all, I never wanted to choose the starving artist route...and yet, what I've come to enjoy more than anything is writing straight prose fiction (not screenplays...although, they're alright...) and painting. I mean...with the exception of heavy math...I've been fortunate enough to be fairly competent at doing anything I've decided to take a shot at...but those two things, the writin' and paintin' are generally what I love doing most.

Granted, I certainly don't have to be in Los Angeles to do those things, though the chances for exposure are far greater (more optimal in many ways would be New York, haha, but there's no way I'm heading the wrong direction down Snowy Penniless Lane...). In some ways, I'm hedging my bets...if I could keep something consistent brewing with the writing (I'm looking for publishing connections!?!), the art (I'll be in my first show in a few months...and am lookin' into how to get into more), and watching for opportunities that still open up in the movie business to jump in when I can. (I've still been writin' shorts for folks and doing some script doctorin' as it's come along...)

I'm fairly certain that doesn't sound like a recipe for success based in any reality that anyone else occupies...since every one of those things are based so strongly on chance...so I've been sort of riding on faith. The tough thing in keeping on or giving up has always been that things have been so even handed...I always seem to get just enough of something to interest me or move me along...or pay the bills for a bit...but then something else gets set in my way. A zero sum game so to speak...for every move forward or laterally is a move back...for every positive, a negative.

So yes, I've been trying to consider my options on what else I could do and where I could go...or even what more I might need to learn. And while I'm not against the idea of relocating...well, two things keep bothering me...For one: I moved a whole bunch when I was younger, and I'm not ready necessarily to start building from scratch...and it'd be easier if I knew (unlike when I came out here) to know that there's something to go to when I get there. For two: well, you can call it ego, but it's that feeling of defeat, of letting the town beat me somehow. going back to somewhere I've already lived...makes it feel like I gave up. Haha, I'm not sure if that sounds idiotic or not...but that's definitely what it is...coupled with the sneaking suspicion that success might be around the corner, and leaving now would cause me to miss it...

On the con side against me, as a person...while I've been talking to more folks here recently about expanding my options above...well, I know in my heart that I ain't done nearly enough to push myself out there to try and achieve more than I have. So, trust me, if anyone knows that a hefty chunk can be blamed squarely on me...I knows it to be true...

And that's why I'm here in the first place....what do you, my personal public, think? Am I spinning my wheels? Is it time for a change? A move? Do I just need to do more, stick it out a little longer...and stick my neck out a little farther while I'm at it? Do you know anyone who might could help a brother out in the aforementioned literary, arts, or entertainment world? Do I need to just get a job?

The search of the soul continues...

Cheers.

Who Are You Going To Be When You Get Here?
Thank you for your work, Beat Takeshi...

One of my primary film enjoyments in life come from a stocky dynamo of creative force, Kitano Takeshi. Whether it's something he directed himself, or something he just starred in, I tend to enjoy this man whose mind and spirit always seem to be somewhere else, but who still maintains a screen presence like few others.

I first came across him when his directorial debut A Violent Cop had set the cinephile world abuzz. Come to think of it, I think it was in England's film mag Empire...since even many things "movie" in America still have an allergy to most things subtitled. In any event, I tracked down a copy...and well, hey, I didn't really like it much at the time. I couldn't, however, deny that he was definitely on to something.

Time has passed, and I've consumed many of the things Kitano that I've been able to lay hands on (and I admit that those who guffaw at copyright laws have been most helpful where American distributors have failed me). I can still picture one of his most tender moments where after playing a brutal thug for the better part of two hours he still tugs at the heart strings by repeating "Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence" to Tom Conti at the end of Oshima's film of the same name. But it's Sonatine and Fireworks that still remain at the top of my Kitano list...in fact, atop the heap of some of my favorite movies ever.

So last night, I sat down to watch his last (well, the latest one I could get ahold of)...

Takeshis' (2005 , d. Kitano Takeshi)

The Story: Once successful Japanese media icon Kitano Takeshi meets his doppelgänger, we follow the twin Takeshi through a dreamy journey of what it to NOT be successful Japanese media icon Kitano Takeshi...sort of.

The Review: Ok, let's just start this by saying that if you don't know anything about Kitano's life or work, you might still enjoy the film but you're going to be missing out on a whole lot of subtext. And let's counter that by saying that even if you do know a fair bit about him, you still might not enjoy the film and there's likely even more subtext that's zinging over your head. I enjoyed the hell out of it personally, but then again I tend to really enjoy what others consider "failure" if the makers are at least really trying to do something with it. (And I wouldn't call this a failure...)

Granted, it's two years after the fact and I'm only just getting to watch the movie, but I remember the critics being none to kind to this one. Looking back (having now watched the movie), it seems in many ways to be a case of a critical darling falling out of favor by not delivering what's expected of him. I admit, even for myself, that I missed Kitano's usual mixture of elegiac thoughtful beauty smashed together with brutal quick violence in this one. However, (and I sometimes have to chastise myself for forgetting,) there's a joy in seeing an artist grow, branch out, and try new things.

As the story progressed and the life of the sad sack struggling Takeshi became more and more outlandish, I kept thinking that it was like watching Kitano do Fellini in an exploration of filmic identity along the lines of David Lynch's recent films. That's not to say it was wholly derivative of those filmmakers, because this one's very much a personal project. Then I went back and did a little reading on the film, and found that it's being described as the first of Kitano's "self-deconstructive" films (The plot of the next one sounds even more Fellini...). In the end though, the problem therein lies.

Like any text, whether it be movie, book, or artwork. To some degree it has to stand on it's own. Not everyone going in has had access or exposure to the elements the filmmaker brought to the piece. Furthermore, even those who do like to wax intellectual about creative work don't always want to invest the time to learn more about any one piece.

So does this movie stand on it's own? To be honest, I'm not sure. I couldn't watch it as a neophyte, and I enjoyed a lot of it knowing what I already did about it's creator. That ultimately taints my ability to judge. From that stance I can say that large portions of it did work, it certainly was entertaining, it certainly had wit and depth...but, I'm not sure where it was ultimately trying to get to...

I could sit here and philosophize about the exploration of alternate realities and how, like life, they wouldn't necessarily have clean clear cut conclusions either...but it's not my place to justify the work. Not only that, but it'd be pretty arrogant of me to think that I could. It was a challenging piece of artwork that engaged me for it's run time, and I'd watch it again. So from my point of view, pretty successful. At the same time, I can see where a goodly proportion of my friends and family would not be so generous with it. (From a few I can hear the "Huh?"'s and "That sucked!"'s from here...)

So I say...if you enjoy dream-like experimental films that explore the nature of film, character, film violence, and image while having a healthy dose of a wacky sense of humor...I can't see where you can walk out of Takeshis' having gotten something for the ticket price.

Cheers.

When All I Wanted Was a Little Nappy Nap...
It's just time for that Swiftian kind of honesty...

I was beginning to worry about me there for a while. I was afraid that I was about to get delinquent on showing up to just say...well...anything...

After all, the weather's getting a little cooler (yes, even here in sunny southern California), the holidays are fast approaching...those wonderful overwrought consumerism spectaculars...and let's face it, there's nothing about a warm mug of cocoa that makes you wanna say "Hey, what the hell am I doing? I've got work to do?"

I've always been an advocate for the U.S. adopting a state sponsored "Naptime Program", that could easily be modeled after the Spanish siesta. I don't want to rehash all my thoughts here on that personally hallowed subject, but I will reiterate that an after lunch glass of milk and a stretch on a little padded mat for a while has never sounded bad to me. (And in an attempt to be PC for all them lactose intolerant folks out there...we could substitute apple juice...maybe orange...grape might be pushing your luck...but I refuse to serve anything that's chockful of Corn Syrup!)

Now that winter's almost upon us, I'm nearly to the point of advocating hibernation...or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

At the same time, I don't want this to sound hypocritical in light of my (somewhat) recent bashing of energy drinks. I still think all of that is silly...and it's not as though I myself am now filled full of lethargy. No, no...it's the onset of the end of the year...the holidays...and since it is winter...what better than hibernation? (Assuming the bears and other woodland creatures have any need to hibernate now that Washington state will probably be the same climate as Tampa Bay with the rate we're going)

Anyhow, it's the speed and the pressure that somehow gets smacked onto us at this time of year.

I mean, I've had a pretty productive year. I wrote two novellas. I did a bunch of paintings (and one really big one!). I revamped my website. I started writing blogs again. I started cleaning my ears again. I mean, I've been busy. But there's something about that end of the year, that always makes me think that I didn't do enough...

...and what's gonna stop me from getting more done? That's right...that's right: Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Maybe I'll have to retract some of what I said above....as it's just occured to me...maybe I can get my naptime here in America...by banning all the holidays. After all, a recent report I saw said that Americans work more hours than any other country in the world, and we're still not as productive. So maybe, we could make up for that gap by banning holidays...(and then maybe we could get my naptime referendum introduced...cuz if you're going to be working 16+ hours a day, you're gonna need a nap.)

Let's think about this logically. You got two types of holidays: the forgotten and the overproduced.

Now judging by how many folks besides myself were cruising in and out of the closed post office parking lot this morning...I'd say it's a safe bet that I wasn't the only one who didn't realize it was Veteran's day. Not to be crass, I feel that our veteran's do deserve recognition and some thanks, but obviously since no one in corporate America's figured out how to market it to death...we've sort of forgotten this one. And what the hell is Columbus day supposed to be about anymore? Not only were there people here when he got here...we've pretty much figured out that Vikings got here first...and now there's plenty of speculation that the Chinese were already hanging around the west coast long before Chris took the risk of not falling off the edge of the world. And it's not like anyone really gets the day off for either of those (and many others) except for bank employees and postal works (I'd include the rest of the government..but from what I've seen lately, I'm beginning to wonder if we should just mark the handful of days on the calendar that they actually do seem to work), and I somehow doubt that the bulk of those who do get it off spend the day in reverence for our fighting forces, or having a beer for Columbus.

Well, they might have the beer, but I doubt they give three cheers to the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria before downing it.

Then there's the overproduced: Christmas, Valentine's Day, Easter, Halloween (although at least it's kept most of the fun about it). I'd include St. Patrick's day, but I don't remember the last time I got the day off for that one either. And Thanksgiving sort of rides the fence...it's not quite as oversaturated in the marketing department as those above...and the only consumerism it really advocates is just food. Then again, that's sort of my problem with Thanksgiving...who the hell are we thanking? What percentage of the populace grew any of the stuff they're eating? How many of them went out to the old stump with the axe to give the ol' Tom Turkey the big shave? How many of them were starving to death, and had to turn to Native Americans for help? And how many of them wouldn't have just eaten entirely too much that day anyway?

Back to Christmas though...which in a lot of places you're not even allowed to call it that anymore...which has always made me wonder: do the atheists and whomever else who get all uppity about the use of the word Chrismas really think that it has much religious significance to most people these days? I mean, lest we forget, just saying "God" or "Jesus" used to be considered blasphemy...and once upon a time blasphemy could be a stoning offence...but when's the last time you said "Jesus Christ!" in exasperation and somewhat beaned you up side the head with a big chunk of concrete?

Anyhow, it seems to me that all most people even do anymore is shop for stuff...constantly. It's the only way to explain why when I drive cross country, the outskirts of any town (and in some cases all the rest of it) have all began to look the same. The Appleby's and Circuit City's and Bed, Bath, and Beyond's and so on are everywhere, and as I rarely see any of them closing down it must mean that someone's shopping there. And once Starbucks of the Coffee Bean has landed...your small town is finished...usually because the Wal-Mart's pretty much killed every thing else. So...why do I need a holiday that's become nothing but an excuse to buy more stuff for each other that we probably would've bought for ourselves anyway? (Unless you X-mas shop exclusively at Spencer Gifts, Adult Bookstores, or other fine novelty shops)

And if we got rid of it...that's another day of work to buy more stuff anyway! Perfect!

Not that I want to leave out good ol' Valentine's Day. I remember as a kid it being the cutesy day where we all made little decorative...um...well paper bags with construction paper hearts as a little inner classroom mailbox for slips of paper featuring our favorite comic book, cartoon, or movie characters which we all handed to each other (after spending time trying to figure out how to ditch out on giving one to that one kid we really didn't like). Then somewhere along the line...it became all about jewelry...or rather my obligation as a male to buy some for my significant female...as well as some sort of ridiculous date within which to present it. Now, I guess men are somewhat back in on the action as Valentine's means buying all kinds of crap for each other...and mind you that's the only way to prove your love on that special day...because X-mas isn't enough...you've got to buy more crap! So it's good you worked that day to be able to afford it.

Which brings me to my final thought on all this...which isn't holiday related...but it's close in spirit: Why do we still pretend that Saturday and/or Sunday are days off? Remember that thing about blaspheming above...well, there used to also be rules about working on the weekends. But if you work retail (ie. selling sh!t) and I've worked retail, when could you ever count on Sunday as your...ahem...day of rest?

So let's just stop pretending...no more holidays!...and no more weekends! We've got money to make and crap to buy...and it's high time we got on with it.

And then maybe, just maybe...I wouldn't feel like I still had so much to do at the end of the year...

AND I imagine that dropping from exhaustion will help me attain that nirvana-like state of hibernation I now feel myself to be in pursuit of...

See how a good plan always comes together?

Cheers.

Never Gonna Fall For...Modern Life...Never Gonna Fall For
Only the French could do it like this...

Thanks to a film I viewed a few weeks ago, I was trying to think of another movie that made me laugh out loud, and at the same time, frankly, depressed the hell out of me...

Actually, I should be more specific. The 90's version of Cyrano de Bergerac with Depardieu makes me laugh and by the end makes me really sad, but that's not really what I'm thinking. Come to think of it, most modern romantic comedies depress me...but usually don't make me laugh. Anyhow, that's a whole other issue...

I'm talking modern life...or just life in general...or the human condition...that kind of high-falutin' silliness.

The first movie that sprung to mind was Mike Judge's Idiocracy, which barely saw release last year. It's depiction of a future overrun by the proliferation of the lowest common denominator was both laugh out loud funny and very obviously meant to shame you for laughing at its stupidity at the same time. It was something Judge had certainly been perfecting with Beavis & Butthead. The sad irony being that over time people stopped looking down at their moronic antics, and began to identify with them. (The "bliss of ignrance" so to speak...)

Someone just tossed in Terry Gilliam's Brazil, which is another fine example. It's a d@mned good combination of Orwell and Huxley's visions of the future. It doesn't try to deliver on the laughs in a typically comedic fashion, but it certainly has some classic funny moments. Hell, Robert DeNiro as a revolutionary air-conditioning repair man (I know, I know...Heating Engineer) is pure hilarity in and of itself. And yet, it has one of the most horrific moments ever when the same character is killed...by paperwork...in a scene that simply has to be seen.

So why was I thinking about this? Because I sat down and watched:

Playtime (1967)
written and directed by: Jacques Tati

The Story: On his way to appointment, M. Hulot ends up spending a day trapped in the new modern section of Paris where he constantly crosses paths with a pretty American tourist who can't find her way free to the classic parts of the town.

The Review: Playtime is another one of those massive undertaking's that became a cinematic pariah in it's time when it was considered a disappointing failure after much anticipation during it's 3 years of production and massive construction of several city blocks for the set. Now, of course, it's come to be considered a masterpiece, not only of Tati's well regarded work, but of cinema in general. I felt it well deserved that distinction while watching it.

But it wasn't exactly easy...

The words "oppressive" and "alienating" don't fit in to the description of many comedies, but Playtime could easily be described as both. The meticulously constructed sets of steel and glass with little but black and grey tones for a color palette were at once amazing, and utterly frigid. The angles and planes of..well, everything...reminded me of the futurist drawings of Antonio Sant'Elia but drained of any of the character or humanity. So, they were at once fascinating to look at it, and horrific to imagine occupying.

Not that it's easy to imagine that as the whole film was lensed at a distance not wholly unlike watching the whole film through a security camera. That's not to say it was a bad thing. There are so many rich details to watch in the edges and corners of any given frame. Hulot and the tourist girl aren't the only figures who seem to be wandering in circles through this glacial modernity. If you look around, you'll see the same distinct little figures move through the frame, and by the end, they're almost like the people you see each day around your neighborhood that you don't know and likely will never speak to.

And yet, there's still something very funny about watching Hulot get whisked through it all. One particular standout moment is a scene on a shopping center's showroom where people are wowed by an array of useless but interesting modern gadgets. It's sort of a preview of The Sharper Image 10 years before said company first opened it's doors.

By the last third of the film, it warms considerably as Hulot is snagged into a new modern restaurant that's barely finished construction before it opens it's door to the public. There are a number of wonderful comic moments such as couple who never gets served their dish which sits on a tray in front of them with waiters constantly coming to prepare it only to be called away. The restaurant's construction is shoddy, and as the evening really gets under way, the public all but tears it apart piece by piece. In the midst of the chaos, however, is where most of the human connections take place (mostly lorded over by a archetypically "Ugly American" tourist).

Believe me, I've only mentioned a few highlights, there are plenty more wonderful jokes and sight gags (the best one involves the door of the restaurant...but I'll say no more). Not to mention that I could write an entire analysis of the design "flaws" the movie pokes fun at as "form" rules over "substance" much to the chagrin of the people dealing with it.

By the end, I was exhausted. Mostly because of the conflicting emotions watching the movie, but also because it seemed so much more relevant to our lives now than perhaps it did then. Or perhaps it was a truth that they weren't ready to face about the potential for alienation in modern life. However Playtime presents that alienation in the modern structural forms from office buildings to office cubicles, all the elevators and escalators in between, and out to the endless cycle of traffic outside. In reading the wikipedia entry for Tati, it seems that his last project was meant to be another comedic take on the sort of alienation that's even more pervasive today: "'Confusion' was a story about a futuristic city (Paris) where activity is centered around television, communication, advertising, and modern society's infatuation with visual imagery." (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaques_Tati)

I'm sure if computers were as much a part of daily personal life in Tati's time (he died in 1982), he'd have had something to say about them as well. In some ways that brings to mind another movie...David Cronenberg's Videodrome (which...well, isn't a comedy). Although it was about television, it really had so much more to say about the future of computers, and the anonymity and potential alienation contained therein.

In any event, I recommend you get a copy of Playtime, give it a whirl, and maybe give it some thought.

Cheers.

No New or Smarmy Post of Questionable Merit or Validity Today

For those of you still with me...I've done up and moved my web address. The former address (no longer shall we say its name) has been wiped from the face of the interenet (although google'll probably still have it for the next millenia even though it's not there...)...

Anyhow...I can now be found at...

http://www.ryanjebelt.com

The page layout and what have you is new...the content....uh...is about the same...but you can see my Three New Portraits in the art section! Yeah!

New content coming soon...as soon as some other things, uh...get finished.

Thanks!

I Almost...Almost...Want My Moustache Back...
It was time for some culturin'...

I've recently completed an editing session on the two short books I wrote earlier this year in order to ready them for a trip to the bosom of our government's Library of Congress.

If only I was as well traveled of late as my work will be. Only postage is far cheaper than travel and lodging...oh, and food...and all that other stuff.

In any event, I've nearly managed to pull together my ideas for a new book, and am preparing myself to start.

On the other hand, I’ve also recently completed a series of painted portraits that will soon be on display. So far, they’ve been a hit with those I’ve shared them with, and I may have snagged a commission out of it. Now on the cusp of a new literary adventure, I’ve been getting pushed back toward painting again. I’m a touch torn on which to pursue…

One of the influences toward the artistic was a show I went to the other day.

In the 7.5 years that I have occupied Los Angeles, I had yet to make it to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It took only slightly less time and a visitor from out of town to make it to the Getty Center. This coming from a guy who spent at least one day each month at the Detroit Institute of Arts for several years. In any event, I had actually talked myself out of going on Thursday morning, when another friend asked me if I wanted to go that afternoon. Oh Serendipity…you slippery b!tch…

The show we attended was for one Salvador Dalí, the guy who André Breton wanted to eject from the surrealists but who came to personify it in the public’s eye.

Over the years, I’d developed somewhat mixed feelings about Dalí’s work, but I came to realize that it wasn’t Dalí himself that I had the problem with. Haha…it was marketing. Much like Escher, Dalí was one of those guys that got spewed all over T-shirts, mousepads, oven mitts, and stack after stack of badly reproduced coffee table books.

Granted, I’m not sure I ever saw any Dalí merch that outdid that ridiculous blow-up version of Munch’s The Scream.

Anyhow, it had diluted what I thought about Dalí’s body of work over time and with much repetition. This show, however, managed to retract many of those feelings. The fact of the matter is that all those reproductions (like with most painters) fail to capture the stunning quality of the work when you are standing in front of it.

I’ve never been a huge fan of overly colorful work. That’s just a personal thing. But Dalí captured a vibrant and electric palate that even the whimsically nightmarish quality of his subjects couldn’t render garish. The show gathered together an impressive collection of his work from museum’s around the world as well as a surprising amount of work from private collections.

Most interestingly though, it showed me how much work for film Dalí had attempted. I had seen the Bunuel films, of course, but this showed an aborted project with Fritz Lang and further sequences that were unfilmed or cut from Hitchock’s Spellbound. Even more shocking was the array of work he had completed for an animated collaboration with Walt Disney. However, what captured my eye and heart the most was an attempted collaboration with my beloved Marx Brothers. (There was an illustration of Groucho as Shiva that I would have risked imprisonment to abscond with.)

It was much of this work that I was most thankful to see as I imagine much of it has spent a fair amount of time sealed away in archives, and is rarely ever viewed by the public.

Funny enough, reading some of the exposition on the walls about the pieces and listening to some of the crowd, I was reminded of Dalí’s penchant for being spurned by some of the art world for his right wing politics and his elitism. The final marker on the way out was a quote from Andy Warhol on Dalí whose company Andy enjoyed as he felt that being with Dalí was like being with a “true artist” but that Salvador would never be caught dead in a loft. This gave me a good chuckle thinking about how many I’ve known who’ve put more effort into living up to a stereotype of an “artist” or “musician” or “poet”, etc. rather than putting the same effort into the work they did.

I won’t comment on the elitism…I already catch enough flack for that.

Which brings me back around the merchandise.

I’m sure Dalí would’ve been more than fine with it. In fact, he did some work and even appeared in several ads in his time. I always remember a passage (enough to paraphrase it) from the photo-essay “Dalí’s Moustache” when they ask him why he loves painting, and he replies “For the love of Art” but the photo on the opposite page shows him having tooled his moustache into an ‘s’ with two paintbrushes crossing it.

$.

It’s still something artist’s are expected to spurn as a distraction from the “truth” of their medium (especially the image conscious above.). But I still find that like most things in life, art too is driven by it.

After all, it’s not for nothing that the name ‘Medici’ is so often coupled with all them lovely Renaissance artists.

(Oh and for the record...haha...if you thought the Mona Lisa was small...you should see the Persistence of Memory...)

Cheers.

I'm Still Listening to Ann Coates
Nothing like vaguely obscure music trivia to hit the ground running...

Ah Saturday night...

On Saturday night, I found myself...somewhat against my will...at the Palladium in Hollywood, in order that I might take in one Steven Patrick Morrissey...known most commonly by his last name.

Why do I say 'somewhat against my will'? Well, it's mostly in jest at the strongarm job done by the far more radical fans amongst my social circle to get me to go. It's not that I don't like the man or his music (ok, sometimes, I feel he's a little too 'Morrissey' on some of the songs)...I just didn't develop the same sort of fervor for it in my angst-ridden heyday.

I tried to explain, that as I was growing up...if you were into that sort of music, you were either a fan of The Cure or The Smiths/Morrissey. I must say that the Smith I chose was Robert Smith, and was very much The Cure fan. I never went so far as to put the make-up on, nor did I veer very much farther into Goth territory...but I liked the music...sometimes, too much.

Nevertheless, I was aware of The Smiths and Morrissey's music. In fact, some friends I did on occasion break into a sort of oddball barbershop quartet of The Smiths' 'Handsome Devil'. If you are familiar with the tune, you might be having a little chuckle at the thought. If you are not, I suggest looking it up and then imagining it. Either way, I'm sure if we did that in any school now, we'd be suspended for a few days and forced into some sort of gender sensitivity training. (Like I said, look it up.)

Over the past few years, those with whom I share a fair amount of music have increased my Morrissey quotient to far greater numbers than I had in previous years...and I confess, though I'm passed those moody angst-ridden days of yor (you can believe it or not! ha!), I like the stuff. I think it's too late for me to become a fanatic, or to run out and snatch up all the recordings...but the appreciation, it's grown considerably.

So, Saturday...

My first big kudo to the man comes in the form of the pre-show show. Once the opening act left the stage, the backdrop behind them became a screen for a string of video clips from a New York Dolls performance (and yes, I know I have Moz to thank for getting to see them perform a few years ago) to old French advertising to a James Dean screen test. Now, as much as I like watching roadies test and check all the mics and instruments, this was a better way to spend the half hour in wait. Furthermore, I have to say, even with the basic knowledge I have of Morrissey...it was a primer of sorts, and completely warmed the crowd up.

He opened with "How Soon is Now" which is still a powerful and commanding way to open a set. In fact, I was surprised at how much heavier and rocking the show was. Now some of this might be due to its being closing night of series he did that week in Los Angeles, but even so it was a much more driven set than I would've expected. Throughout the set, he held a strong sway over the tempo and the crowd, the band was ultra-tight, and the feeling of concert-lull was kept at a minimum. And I must confess, there is an element of excitement, even for someone who's not a great fan, to get to see someone as iconic as Morrissey especially when he's got great reign on his musical prowess.

And I should say...he definitely knows how to play to his crowd. Nor have I ever seen a group of people so feverishly enthralled to see a performer. They were enraptured. Haha...fortunately the sound was good (at least where I was) that the crowd's enthusiastic recitation of the lyrics didn't drown out their idol...but seriously, as long as the musician's were out there, Morrissey could've gone off stage, had a beer, eaten a sandwich, and they would've continued singing the song without him. Throughout the set, they waved gifts and letters to him...and he had a fun running commentary as he reached as many as he could that was both gracious and healthily tongue-in-cheek. Surprisingly, despite the orgiastic fervor near the front every time he reached out to grasp hands, only one skinny Asian guy got on stage to grope him for a moment before being pulled away.

On a side note, watching the fans, I couldn't help thinking of the Cure show I had gone to years before. It was a stadium show, and packed to capacity. As we walked around to our section, a funny thought occured. For all any of us knew, Robert Smith could've been wandering the crowds having a hot dog and a beer, and no one would've known in the sea of look-a-likes.

At this show...well, you can't take Morrissey's look quite as far...but there was one poor fellow with blond hair who tried to imitate the haircut...which ultimately made him far more Vanilla Ice than Moz.

Anyhow, I had a very enjoyable time, and was sure to thank my host for holding me at gunpoint to go. Also, I think the time was right. I'm not sure why, but the older, heavier, mature Morrissey is far more to my liking than the long-limbed willowy character I remember seeing from my youth. There's something in the charisma of his age and stature that grounds him more in my reality...whatever that means....

Finally...he did play my favorite of his repertoire "Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself"...although to a minor letdown he didn't pack the wallop behind it like he had other former slower numbers like "Shoplifters of the World"...but said criticism only fluttered through my mind before I told myself to just shut up and enjoy it...

Cheers.

WINNING FRIENDS AND INFLUENCING PEOPLE...
...is apparently something I don't do too well.

But I'll tell you what...I often feel like a man without a country.

I have two loving parents who are still together in a country with two out of three marriages end in divorce batting average. They were middle-middle class when I dropped out of the chute and were upper middle class by the time I struck out on my own...the middle class, which to my eyes is rapidly disappearing. I exceled at and had a decent interest in academics, arts, and athletics at school, which is a seldom seen phenomena. I moved around a lot growing up which gave me both a desire to see and experience new places and people, but also fostered the occasional feeling of impermanence...and from that I found that often times the people from the place I moved to had little love for the place I just moved from (ie. the people in Michigan frequently accused my Texan brethren of being rednecks...and the people from Florida hated all the snotty "snowbirds" who came down from Michigan..and so on).

I haven't had and don't watch television with any regularity...I see it as a tool for a great capacity to educate and inform, but seldom seems to get used that way. I don't go see most of the blockbuster popular movies...well, because they look like garbage from the get-go in a lot of cases (I don't mind brainless fun...but soulless brainless fun is even worse). I don't listen to most popular music...usually for similar reasons...but modern day pop and hiphop couldn't conceivably get more played out than a lot of what's on the radio. I hate advertising...even most of the "cute/good" ones. And while I'm an adherent to the internet...which again is conceivably a great tool..it falls prey to all of the above and then some (ie. so much information, art, and literature to be tapped into from all over the world...but most people just prefer to watch videos of people doing stupid stunts or watching their pets do silly things).

I don't really care for Los Angeles...although it is a bizarre sociological experiment on a grand scale in really bad cheap architecture. I wouldn't go back to Michigan as I feel there's nothing there for me. I could never really get in to Florida. And, I'm not feeling very Texas right now...but more because I'm not sure how much more I can grow there. A lot of the places in between that I've been to have been nice, but I've never gotten a strong enough vibe off any of them to actually move. I don't have nearly enough money to go to Europe, Asia, or Australia...and ain't entirely sure what I'd be going there for (...except maybe to get into adventures à la Highway to Heaven).

It's not just the city exactly either...while I love the principles that America was founded on...I don't always like where I see it going (see TV, internet, etc. above). I don't understand the weird dislike we have for learning other languages and cultures even though we pride ourselves on being a melting pot. I don't particularly find the policies or rhetoric of either side of our political machine interesting or involving...or even effective on anything. I don't like our obsession with celebrity that's coupled with our insane desire to tear them down. This list just goes on and on. Most of all, I don't like that we seem to have lost our vision for a future and progress...and have instead opted for complacency (oh...and voyeurism).

(It goes along with this lax casualness with respect and manners and this deluge of incorrectly aimed compassion that the world's flooded with...but that's a whole other issue...another time)

This isn't just merely negativity either (I'm willing to bet that Chris Crocker's "Leave Britney Alone" got more hits than any one page on Wikipedia). I sort of wish it were. I try to be friendly and polite with people as I see them on the streets, run into them in stores, sit next to them on airplanes...what-have-you... I certainly don't harangue them with a diatribe about all of the above and then some. I try to give them a smile, nod, and wish them well. Unfortunately, it ends up mostly being my friends and you dear reader, who gets the brunt of the diatribe of disonance that is my experience as I experience it.

I probably owe you an apology and a beer for all that.

As it is, some people are running for the hills...and I'm here to say...if you're feeling that notion, go ahead and run...

It's how I see things. It's my interpretation. Perchance some good fortune in my future might change it...but I certainly don't think I'm delusional...and it's certainly not just me...it's stuff I see in the news...on the internet...from discussions with friends. And call me Capt. Elitist, but I generally don't have the capacity to just accept it all for what it is and think it's all going to be ok (...I'm sure more than enough people thought that about Nazi-ism amongst other mass bad ideas...extreme example on one hand...but I think what's going on now is even more dangerous...).

Besides...I already had someone tell me I was going to die unmourned and unloved...haha...hell...I'm ready to deal with that if I have to...

Cheers.

Mom...Dad...It’s all Ridley Scott’s Fault...
My dream of being a Mod-superstar is over...

I've got a confession that I'm going to make.

Most of you already know it...but to the greater hip population of the world, this may come as a revelation.

I really really love Ridley Scott's Blade Runner...and have...oh, more or less have ever since I convinced my dad to rent it when I was in the fourth grade because it was in the sci-fi section, and Han Solo was on the cover.

Keep in mind, I'm not trying to cop to some sort of childhood preternatural discriminating movie taste...I also convinced my dad to take me to see Dungeonmaster (this http://imdb.com/title/tt0089060/ ...although they took down the good poster for it) at about the same time.

I went to see the newly released "final cut" in the theater this morning...and yeah, it was the first screening...but I didn't go out of any desire to fly the Dork-nation flag. I just went then because it was early, it was a weekday, and I was hoping no one would be there (see my last post...and in reference, the guy who sat next to me was breathing so loud I began to wonder if he was trying to inhale stuff off the floor...and he brought in his lunch...oh it's a whole separate thing...). It wasn't crowded, but I was surprised at how many people were there for the time and the day.

And there was this one lady...

Now keep in mind...I've been to Star Wars screenings...I got taken to a premier of a Star Trek movie...I've done Rocky Horror...hell, I went to a midnite Raiders of the Lost Ark screening with about 2 dozen half-assed Indiana Jones...(notice I haven't even touched on my trips to San Diego's Comic-Con in this list)...and yeah, I've seen the chubby dude who made his Tron outfit. I'm no stranger to costumes in movie theaters.

But in her beige trench coat and whatnot...it was decidedly more Dr. Who than Rick Deckard...even with the neon-shaft umbrella that she popped open during the credits. And she let out a loud "Whoo-Hoo!" at the Ladd logo...and at the end credits...

My point is that she was a fan...and obviously a very enthusiastic one. In fact, I think that maybe the girlfriend of the dude behind me appeared to be the only person who hadn't seen the movie in the entire theater. It has fans. It has a considerable fanbase. There's message boards devoted to it. There's people who've copied the poster font, and used the logo on things.

I have no problem with that. It's a visionary movie (if a little thin on solid plot ground), and it still holds up, and still has copycats today. Writing this now...I'm only proving that I'm a part of that camp, that nation.

The problem (and wherein my shame lies) is that I live in Los Angeles. If it's not embarrassing (and painfully pretentious for some reason) to say I'm a writer in this town, it's admitting that Blade Runner is one of my influences. And dammit if I didn't also go to film school....do you see where I'm going? Amongst my generation, Blade Runner is second only to Star Wars as the most clichéd title to be mentioned as one's reason for getting into the movies!

Although at least it has enough artistic integrity for me to continue thumbing my nose at the people with GI Joe and Nintendo tattoos...and I do, you know.

But there's nothing to represent the same aesthetic exactly. Film Noir came before it of course, but using that is even more cliché AND pretentious...and as for earlier sci-fi, umm...Logan's Run or The Black Hole just aren't the same. And the stuff that came after...well, it's derivative of Blade Runner and every film snot in town will be happy to remind you of that.

To some degree, I blame this on the internet and the large scale connectivity across border and nation (hey, like this website here!). Before the internet, I WAS the guy showing Blade Runner to my "unenlightened" friends...and then nodding cooly in hip cabal with the guys who had already seen it. Now this kind of crap is everywhere...and frighteningly enough, I'm sure I could now find guys who did the same thing as me getting their dads to take them to Dungeonmaster!

It's like that joke I heard this comedian tell once about China that went something like this: "There's 1 billion people there. If someone told you that you were 'one in a million'...there's still a thousand other guys out there just like you..."

-----

Ok, ok. Most of what I'm saying here is in jest, largely because I'm tired of people defining themselves by the popular culture they were exposed to while growing up...probably because I was the first guy I knew who did that...and now everyone I meet or see seems to do that...

Blade Runner is still very special to me because of the place it takes me to, especially since most movies fail to take me on such a special journey into a richly detailed movie world. I mean, I've seen it at least a hundred times, (this was the third time I've seen it in the theater) and I still noticed all sorts of little things I'd never seen (not including the little things they added or changed for this edition). And the scene where Deckard shoots Zhora in the back as she runs through the panes of glass is still one of the most chilling scenes of romanticized violence I've ever seen.

But also, it's inspiring for me in a completely different way...one that sometimes gives me hope. When Blade Runner was made, Jaws and Star Wars had already come and changed the movie world to the Summer Blockbuster Universe (that paved the way for a lot of the bloated nonsense still in theaters today). Somehow, Ridley Scott managed to slip this semi-esoteric existentialist film noir/sci-fi hybrid through the system...have it flop, haha...and somehow still be a cinematic landmark...with a goofy fanbase.

The funny this is that this form of inspiration sort of affirmed when I went to see The Darjeeling Limited an hour later. Sure it's the polar opposite type of movie...but in a universe of Bay/Bruckheimer movies (them together and separate)...Wes Anderson still gets to make his quirly little movies...

There is a way...

Cheers.

Do You Hear What I Hear?
Take a moment to reconsider the license to kill...

I was going to start this with one of those "can someone help me out here?" sort of phrases, implying that I wanted some sort of explanation for the events that I witnessed...

But it would've been untrue.

I don't need an explanation. I know what was happening.

I went to a show to see Ladytron in San Diego this time last week. They put on a helluva show...to me...I don't want to be responsible for anyone rushing out to pick up their albums based on my recommendation only to respond with the cry of "That ain't music!" (Try it with Generic Redneck Accent...it works better)....but I'm on the verge of digression. It was a good show...but it could've been better....but that was through no fault of the band.

We got there for the last few songs of the opening act. We weaved through the sparse crowd. We found a spot and planted our feet.

Therein lies the problem.

I should preface this with a little set-up. See, I never get to movies really early if I can help it, especially if it's just me. I don't show up late either, but I try to get there about the time most everyone has settled in. Then, I navigate to a spot where there are few or no people...and if I can't get away, I try to make choices based on who looks like they've got the potential to annoy the crap out of me. Big warning signs are things like cell phones in hand talking or testing...and I avoid anyone under the age of...say 25...like plague, espcially if there are more than two of them.

However, when I get there early, without fail, if there's a bunch of loudmouths, a dude with the bright light of his phone open the whole time, or whatever...they WILL find me.

No joke. I've put it to scientific test. (Lately, I've come to realize that it might not just me...but that there are purebred @$$holes everywhere now.)

Now...with the movies, I have a theory that home video viewing has led to this sort of inconsiderate "casualness" at the theater. Fifty years ago and before, going to the movies was a big experience that people dressed up for...now people treat the theater like a version of their own living room they don't have to clean up. Well...we could tie in the old theatrical bit of the "peanut gallery" and the lower classes behavior while watching plays as well...we've sort of come full circle.

In many cases, I'll go to the pricier theater, just because it thins the likelihood of this...but doesn't eliminate it.

Concerts, however, are a little different. They're louder. When there's no seats, there's a lot more movement. Alcohol is frequently involved. It's a little more interactive than having a story beamed at you on a large screen.

Oh...but most importantly...they usually cost a helluva lot more....AND...in many case, they're one time experiences, as you may never get to see that band ever again.

So back to Ladytron. The lights dim. The intro music pipes up. We're bracing for the goodness to come when were jostled aside by this slope browed neanderthal (I'm not just being mean, I have corroborators) and his two chicks. Ok, ok...whatever, we're at a show...it's not too packed...there's room for everyone. If it had ended there, I wouldn't have thought twice. The band takes the show, and we're on the go.

But for the first two songs caveman keeps dragging out his phone (which again, the light keeps catching my eye) and keeps talking or texting. When he's not doing that, he's leaning over yelling into one of the girl's ears. I can't understand him...but I can hear him as being discordant from the music. Then the phone. Then more yelling. I try yelling for him to shut the phone...but he can't hear me.

So eventually, I just tried to get far enough away from him...which sort of worked...except now the place has been filling up...and there's more press toward the stage. It helped...but I'm still catching this thing blinking on every now and again. And this went on for the whole show...(a few times the two girls left intermittently to answer phone calls...and they didn't look like doctors on call)...

Ok. So you say, he probably wasn't a fan or didn't care?

Not so, says I. He mouthed along to some of the songs while texting. But the weirdest part, at the closing of several songs, he's pumping his fist in the air all excited....but what I don't get...to me, he hasn't payed attention to the music since he's shown up.

Then I encounter my next mystery I've seen at too many shows...which managed to be wonderfully distracting. A dude dressed up in his nouveau-mod suit, with a trio of dolled up sluts has moved in behind me. They're very very very sauced...and getting worse as the show goes on. Oh...and they're dancing...well...they're flailing...but it was distinctly an approximation of dancing. It was on beat a few times anyhow.

And they got a little room to move...oh, but keep in mind, no one else is dancing and though we are on the floor there's no "pit" of any sort...so they're flailing, and though there's some room around them...yeah, they're all over my back.

The blond girl seemed to be especially fond of driving her squared off purse into the space between my shoulder blades when not boxing me on the arms with it. Sure I shoot them some dirty looks...but they're drunk and appear to be on the verge of passing out...they don't get it. Finally, I was able to ditch them for a while when blondie hits me with another surprising back jab with her sharp purse, and I throw back my shoulders which knocked her into her friends and well away from me.

Now this was a fairly low end show cost-wise...but when I've got to really big ticket expensive shows...I've never understood being this out of it (minus the obnoxiousness)...Why do you pay good money for something you're not going to remember? The really shocking one is when paramedics have to get involved which I've also seen more than a few times. I get it...and I don't get it.

What I wonder more than anything, is how do they always find me?

Although...like I said...I'm getting more and more convinced that they are rapidly becoming the majority. The weirdest part though is that if you do confront some loudmouth jack@$$ at a show or whatever, they act as though you're the rude one for infringing on their right to be obnoxious in places where other people paid good money to enjoy something without the unnecessary input. Especially in the last few years...where somehow 9/11 and the Iraq war have been alchemistically changed being an @$$hole into some sort of display of liberty and freedom.

But really...it's also the paying money for something you don't actually pay any attention to, and that you probably won't remember.

Seriously...I'm not looking for answers...but it's a basic illogic that seems to be more and more of the system now...

I just felt like saying something.

Cheers.