What I've Consumed Lately, A Post Too Long To Read

They have been dark days of late, and I am once again amazed at big the little things can be.

I assumed my funk, my blues, my down was the result of the big things. Problems in my personal life. Stresses at work. Especially, perhaps, an existential crisis due to shifts in my spiritual life.

I've never been accused of under-thinking things

Turns out I wasn’t sad because of those problems. They were problems because I was S.A.D.

And then the school counselor, whom I don’t know well, but I want to cuz she’s so cool, shows up in my classroom. She said “Here, try this. You’ve looked like you could use it,” cuz counselors notice these things. And she put a light on my desk.

Look, I’m a skeptic, too. About just about everything. But I admit that I had been wondering if my blues were seasonal, and I had heard about light therapy and wondered about it. A buddy walked in, saw me sitting in front of the light, and said “Oh, come on. You have crystals in your pocket, too?”

But I gotta tell ya. I turned on this blazingly bright light for a half hour while I checked email or graded in the morning, and, well, I felt just like this:



Let’s acknowledge that it could be psychosomatic. Okay. I’m alright with that. But it’s not. But it could be. But it’s not. But who cares?

Let’s also acknowledge that the person who gave it to me thinks it works. Which means she literally took her happy off of her desk and put it onto mine. Which is really nice.

So, in all of this time, have I done any writing? No. Well, lots of writing for work – comments on each kid, lots of college recs. But no creative writing.

Well, wait. I wrote a college recommendation for a kid who is the best reader and writer I’ve ever taught, who is getting a C in my English class. So that took some creativity, I suppose.

So the answer to the “And so now what now?” has, for too long, been nothing much. I've not been a creator. Even my time on the piano has been about learning other people's songs. Which I've enjoyed, a lot, but still.

However, I’ve continued to be a big consumer of pop culture, so I thought I’d do a run down of some stuff I’ve read or watched in the long time since I’ve written. This is going to look like a lot of stuff, but remember: it’s been a long time, and I don’t watch sports.

Okay. Here’s stuff I’ve consumed of late:

The Odyssey: Impressed? You ought to be. Well, actually I just taught it again. I love this thing, and as stuffy and unmanageable as you might think it is, you should know that my students love it, too. Cool thing:, I took my son out to lunch at a new Greek restaurant I heard was great. And, it being just after his exam, we got into an argument about The Odyssey. Then we realized we were in a Greek joint arguing about The Odyssey. And that felt kinda cool.

Oedipus Rex: Taught it, love it. But when teaching two different classes, I keep calling Odysseus and Oedipus by each other’s names

That led to Minority Report, which I show after teaching Oedipus Rex. We talk about how the ancient Greeks saw fate as, well, fate: inevitable, unchangeable, and you are a hero if you face it with dignity and courage. Whereas in American culture, you’re a hero if you change fate. Also, it is a really cool movie. I had forgotten how much I love Spielberg. When Tom Cruise's watch ticks toward zero - Will he kill him, as prophesied? Will he not? – it was more fun to watch the students than the movie. They were rapt.

Artificial Intelligence: A.I.: So Minority Report put me in a Spielberg mood, so I tried to watch A.I. with my kids, but my son got too creeped out by it, and I decided that it was too creepy for my daughter. I love this film. It is a beautiful mess the likes of which you should expect if Spielberg (“Life is good, we can control our lives, a positive view saves the day, more happy endings than a Craig’s List massage parlor” [even to the holocaust, see Shindler’s List]) takes over a project started by Stanley Kubrick (“the universe is a bitch, we’re all evil deep inside, we’re doomed by eye liner and bowler hats, or nuclear bombs ridden like rodeo horses, or Nicholson with an ax”) The reactions A.I. causes are so complex and contradictory it’s almost hard to sit through.

I realized that the movie never made sense to me because I thought of the ending as being about aliens, not evolved mechas. I’m an idiot.

Note about me being obsessive. I bought this movie on eBay on a whim. When it came, it was full screen. So I bought it again. You want the full screen version? Really? Shame on you.

Wall*E: How amazing is Pixar? This movie is brilliant, and proves that clever can also be powerful and poignant and fun. We just watched this on DVD, but when we saw it in the theater it got me on a serious Charlie Chaplin kick. Have you ever watched Chaplin?

Modern Times still feels modern, and, though funny and slap-sticky, is also satirical, with an edge that holds up more than I expected. I expected to enjoy it in that I-forgive-old-movies-for-being-kind-of-boring-and-cheesy sort of way, but I didn’t have to. Chaplin movies really hold up. And if The Kid doesn’t touch you, you’re an asshole.

Born Standing Up by Steve Martin. I’m a huge fan. Of the author. But not of this book. Eh.

Wanted I grabbed this comic book from the library and read the whole thing, constantly amazed at how stupid it is, and how hard it works too be bad-ass and shocking, only to come across as trying too hard. This book is embarrassing. So of course I immediately rented the movie

Wanted, which is dumb but not nearly as dumb as the book, and is a blast to watch. Fantastic if crazy derivative stunts and effects, and I think this might have been the first time I’ve seen Angelina Jolie on film. She’s really cool. I didn't expect that. I thought she was only hot. She comes across as really smart and charming (and those other things too, yes.) Also, this movie contains the most ridiculous conceit ever, announced in dulcet tones by Morgan Freeman: “The Loom of Fate.”

Infinite Jest I had never read any David Foster Wallace, and when he committed suicide, I was moved by the many obits in the press. So I read a bunch of his journalism, and then dove into his masterpiece. Well, I didn’t dive exactly. I'm still wading in, slowly. But I felt over-due for a literary challenge. I love the book, when I’m able to really concentrate, but my progress through this cinder-block of a novel was stalled by a quote-of-the-day in an email at work:
"Here's something else no one will ever tell you: if you don't read the classics, or the novel that won this year's Booker Prize, then nothing bad will happen to you; more importantly, nothing good will happen to you if you do… Read anything, as long as you can't wait to pick it up again.
— Nick Hornby, Housekeeping vs. The Dirt (2006)

I don’t quite agree with the “nothing good” part, but I'm still taking a break from the challenge and am reading

When You Are Engulfed By Flames by David Sedaris instead. Fun, thoughtful, with some laugh-out-louds, but his self-absorption gets a bit tedious.

Speaking of self-absorption, I should be clear that I don’t think you are still reading this. But I’m enjoying recording my opinions for myself.

Okay. Other things I’ve consumed in the past days or weeks or months:

Obama’s victory. It’s all been said, but I felt it too, big time. It hit me when I was walking my dog , waiting for the official 270 at 11:00. It just hit me, hard. It was good.

30 Rock: I often forget how great this show is, and then I watch an episode on hulu on a whim, and I try to remember other shows that make me laugh so much.

Quantum of Solace: I don’t get it. Why is everyone bashing this film? It’s not as good as Casino Royale, sure. But for a Bond film, it’s good, right? People remember Bond movies as better than they really are, sort of like the first seasons of Saturday Night Live. Goldfinger? Sure, it’s fun. But go watch it again. Then watch Quantum of Solace. It’s cool and fun, if a little bloated. And smarter than it looks. Nice touch with the oil-coated homage to the Connery classic, too.

A Colbert Christmas: The Greatest Gift of All: I enjoyed this at the time, but weird out weighed funny. This was almost as surreal as the old Peewee’s Playhouse, but you expect Peewee to be that bizarre.

Tropic Thunder: I'm not entirely fond of how much I loved this film. Hilarious, and Robert Downey Jr.; is there anyone more fun (and impressive) to watch on film these days? I was half way through the movie before I recognized Tom Cruise.

Derren Brown. This guy, who I’ve only seen online, rocks my world (and distracts me from grading exams. And challenges what I believe. And has me studying NLP.) You can’t get his DVDs on this side of the pond. Watch one and see if you can stop.

Frankenstein: The old original. Frickin’ blast.

Young Frankenstein: Funnier than I remembered. And without that old-comedy sag at the end.

Man on Wire: The effect of this documentary is this: even though the guy who walked on a high wire between the Twin Towers is there, in the documentary, in 2008, talking about his exploit in 1974, when you watch the old footage you still think he might not survive. The movie doesn’t exploit the sadness of the missing towers, but the film gains beauty from 9/11 anyway.

West Wing: I loved this show and stopped watching shortly after Aaron Sorkin left, cuz it fell so far so fast, but I’m watching season five now because of this, and while it ain't Sorkin, I am enjoying it.

All Star Batman and Robin by Frank Miller is a comic for fans of the genre only, and only the fans willing to forgive super-hero comics at their most misogynistic. I’m not sure I’m there. And Batman should never laugh like the Joker or say “God damn.” But the guest appearances by the JLA are fun.

Slaughterhouse 5: Taught this again for the first time in years. Loved it even more than I remembered, in large part because of the quality of my students' discussions. And, this time, I think understood the novel in a whole new way. I realized that Vonnegut probably doesn’t agree with the lessons he has Billy Pilgrim come to learn.

The Day The Earth Stood Still: I won’t take the kids to see the new one (horrible reviews, but my daughter really wants to see it) until they watch the old one. Really great movie, in a I-forgive-old-movies-for-being-kind-of-boring-and-cheesy sort of way.

Bolt. Took the family to this one. It’s okay. Opening chase scene is great because it steals apologetically from Pixar’s The Incredibles. The rest of the movie is fun, but mostly points out how impressive Pixar’s consistent excellence really is.

Boy in the Stripped Pajamas: My son and I saw this as a preview for free, and our night out was great. Hooray for the non-megaplex; we need to go to the Drexel much more often. At first the film made me uncomfortable; it depicts the fashion and zeitgeist of my parents' childhood, but with English accents. but the performances are fantastic and the movie really powerful. It is as good as the holocaust as a young adult film can be - which is actually very, very good. The point of view of a young boy who doesn't understand what is happening is moving and tragic and sad; you feel sorry for the son of a monster - and the monster, his father who runs a concentration camp, is uncomfortably honest in making him human. The last fifteen minutes are amazing and powerful on a number of levels.

That's a downer to end on. How about this one:

Robot Chicken: Star Wars I had never seen Robot Chicken, because I am old. But I threw this on my iPod a long time ago and forgot about it, and stumbled upon it yesterday. I haven't watched the whole thing yet, but it's hilarious. Here are some clips (not embeddable).

Writing this was a fun and oddly relaxing way to kick off Winter break. If you read the whole thing: why?

Two Very Different Superhero Trailers

Two completely different superhero movies. One, "no duh." The other, "what the?"

Both very cool.

No duh:


What the?:

Shaking Edward Bristol's Foundations

I just came across high praise for Tater Tots of Love.

The blogger who wrote seems to be an avant-garde performer in Bristol. Look at his blog.

That a traditional high school show hit him so hard seemed to surprise him as much as his blog post surprised me:

The highlight of my Edinburgh Fringe as an audience member was undoubtedly Tater Tots of Love, this is an American high school musical. Trust me I was as shocked as you might be to hear this.

Essentailly the experience shook me to the foundations of my artistic practice: you don't need experimentation and the attendant obscurity, what you need is show tunes, big smiles and the ability to hit the high notes. Even better the whole things was probably the best response to Faust that I've seen.

I have included an audio sample of the finale for your enjoyment.

Thanks to the lovely Chloë Courtney for sending me the link.

For more info check

http://www.tatertotsoflove.com/index.html

Summerhood

Doesn't this movie look great?

When it becomes the next out-of-nowhere indie hit like Little Miss Sunshine or Juno, remember you saw it here first.

http://www.summerhood.com/Trailer_Site/Trailer_1___.html

Woody as Joker, and College Rec For Anthony David D.

Check this out:



I've had very little time for creative pursuits during this hectic first quarter and three-offspring soccer season. A couple things here and there, though, including work on a recording for my daughter and her best friend of a song they wrote together. This to make up for not letting her go to Kings Island with friends, because her mother and I are united in unreasonable meanness.

Another school has requested a perusal script for the musical I wrote. Fingers crossed.

The band is moving along despite membership shake ups.

I've done no writing of my own.

I did, however, get the chance to revisit a piece I wrote four years ago that I was always a wee bit pleased with.

A former student stopped by my room to ask me to write a college recommendation. College recommendations are par for the course in this job, but rarely am I asked to write one for a student who graduated four years ago. This kid, who I always liked very much, left college to go on a "find myself" expedition that landed him in China teaching English. How cool is that? But now he's ready to go back to school, and needs a college rec to do it.

But how am I supposed to write him a rec? I haven't know him for four years.

Apparently there is a program at Columbia exclusively for students who have been out of school for two years or more. They are looking for non-traditional students (they certainly have found one in this kid). So they know that the academic recs they get might be from relationships that ended years ago.

I was comfortable with the idea when I realized that he didn't want me to write a new rec. he wanted me to send the one I wrote years ago.

College recs are tricky, but don't often call for much creativity other than finding ways to be honest about shortcomings that make students look good. But this kid, an unusual student whose strengths might not be apparent on his transcript, was applying to Kenyon, which I felt was a good match, and a school for which I could take some risks in my writing. So I took a big risk and wrote an unconventional letter that I think really captured the kid.

This letter was passed around in the Kenyon admissions office, ended up being published in a journal for college admissions counselors, and was remembered and cited by the president of the college when she spoke here some years ago. Toot-toot goes my own horn, small though it may be.

In the four years since I wrote the lettr I've grown uncomfortable with how much of a presence I am in the letter. Still, it did the job then, and I hope it does the job for him again, and I include it here because I like it, and he was, and I hope still is, such a creative kid.

I got his permission, and I changed his name.

TEACHER RECOMMENDATION FOR ANTHONY DAVID D.
WRITTEN BY DEAD LENNIE
TEACHER OF ENGLISH AND THEATER

This is a college recommendation I wrote for Anthony David D. when he was my student in 2004. He has asked me to send this letter as a snapshot of who he was in high school. It was a pleasure to see him again, and it is a pleasure to share this letter.

For what it is worth, Anthony David’s recent emails to me suggest that the former struggles with grammar noted below are now a thing of the past. And his recent life suggests that those things about him I most admired have only grown more inspiring.


When Anthony David asked me to write this letter, I was thrilled. I am a huge fan of this kid, and I was pleased to have the opportunity to introduce him to your school.

Now I’m starting my fourth attempt at this letter. Turns out, Anthony David is not an easy kid to capture on paper, especially in something as formal as the Recommendation Letter, capital “R” capital “L.” Anthony David is generally an informal kid. He’s also a kid that perceptive teachers gush about – usually at lunch, informally. My formal attempts at capturing him have fallen short. But if you and I were out to lunch – someplace casual – Max and Erma’s, maybe - these are some of the things I’d say about Anthony David D. between sips of tortilla soup and nibbles of my BLT:

“You should have seen him in the fall play. I mean, what was I thinking when I cast this show? This play, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) – do you know this show? This show depends on speed. It’s hilarious, and Anthony David is hilarious. But the whole last, I dunno, half hour depends on speed. They race through Hamlet three times, each time faster than the last – and the last time BACKWARDS. So what do I do? I cast an ADD kid with processing issues – issues with speed, in other words – in the lead role. I mean, what was I thinking?

“But I took the leap, and Anthony David flew. You should have seen him. He was brilliant. Brilliant. The audience will never know how hard he worked to do what he did on that stage. They only know that it was an unforgettable, hilarious, sidesplitting performance by one of the funniest kids that stage has ever seen. You should have seen it. It was amazing. And the part where he improvises, alone on stage, talking directly to the audience? Some folks were laughing so hard they couldn't breathe. I was one of them, and I had seen it a million times.

“Really. You should have been there.”

Pause. Slurp some soup. Sprinkle some salt.

“He’s always been like that, though. He’s always been surprising. Once, his, ummm, his sophomore year, I think. He took my theater class. He’s a fan of Shakespeare, so he was going to do Romeo’s speech in the tomb, when Romeo thinks that Juliet is dead. Well, we knew the theater was unavailable, so I figured we’d just do the scene in my classroom. But Anthony David realized that the cubbies in the hallway look sort of tomb-like. So he opts to do his scene in the hallway.

“Okay. So he disappears for a while, and then when we all go out there, he’s dressed up, and he has these teddy bears – like a dozen teddy bears – all over the hallway, on the floor, in the cubbies. There are all these teddy bears. The Capulet tomb, see? ‘Oh no,” I’m thinking. ‘He’s going to play this for laughs. He’s going to go for a cheap joke. He’s going to butcher Shakespeare and he’s going to sink his grade.’

“But he didn’t.” Quick bite of my BLT. Wipe my chin. “Traffic is stopping in the hall at this point, and Anthony David launches into the speech. ‘Let me peruse this face,’ he says, kneeling over a light brown bear. ‘Mercutio’s kinsman, noble County Paris!’ and so on, until he goes to another bear, this one Juliet. People are gathering throughout the speech, each approaching with a giggle but then falling silent. Then, at last: ‘Thus with a kiss . . . I . . . die.’

Silence. No laughs. Then, applause. Cheers. He nailed it. Kneeling in a school hallway with a teddy bear in his arms, he gave everyone a mid-afternoon glimpse of the power of Shakespeare. It was brilliant. He made it look easy. This kid. I tell you.

“Pass the salt.”

You do.

“Thanks. You know, he was a pretty tough student. I had him freshman year, and it was rocky. He has some learning differences – grammar will always be tough for him, for instance, but the bigger problem was just his organization. He never got things in on time. But I have him now, again, as a senior, and he’s amazing. Very organized, and things get done. But there’s a bigger issue. Somewhere along the line he gained confidence, and now? He’s got this drive, this hunger. He can’t get enough information. I think he’s read more about Hamlet than I have.

“He gave a presentation in class about sources for Oedipus and Antigone explaining this controversial theory he found. His presentation ends up lasting two days. It was amazing. He is passionate about learning. He was inspired.

“One night, we were driving back to school from a play I took some kids to see, and I started asking Anthony David all these questions about his home life. I’ve known this kid for years through plays and classes, but I didn’t know too much about his life. So I ask. I knew his parents were separated, and I suspected they were pretty uninvolved with his school life. I didn’t realize how uninvolved they really were. They’re good people, but Anthony David was pretty much on his own – for meals, even, most of the time, as far back as middle school. So I asked him straight out, there, in the van. I asked, 'So, this growth you’ve had. I mean, you had some struggles, with organization, with getting the job done. Now you’re this great student. You’ve had a transformation. You did that on your own? All on your own?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Pretty much.’”

Now, at Max and Erma’s, I shove my food aside. I wipe my mouth, and I lean toward you. I’m looking right in your eyes.

“This kid. This Anthony David D. He’s smart – moments of brilliance even. He’s passionate. He’s a hard worker. Grammar? Not his thing. He’ll always have to work at the technical side of writing. But his ideas have substance and depth and subtlety. His leadership injects the entire school with fun, but keeps us talking about what’s important. His spirit – he’s got more school spirit than anyone here. This kid – he’s why teachers get out of bed in the morning. He’s inspiring to inspire. He’s done amazing things. He’s going to do amazing things. He should do them at your school.”

So that’s what I would say if we were out to lunch.

You’ll get the check, right?

Remembering Brian Casey

This is a post I wrote for the memorial blog Remembering Brian Casey:

Years ago Brian and I collaborated on a project to stage a swing musical version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Shakespeare provided the book, and I had the concept and the resources – I direct theater at a high school – but I lacked the knowledge of the music of the period. I also needed a big band. And an arranger.

I called the right guy.

For about a year Brian and I met at Stauf’s countless times to put the show together. We laughed a lot. Brian had a sharp understanding of the play, and seemed to know a period song to suit every mood and thought in the show.

Brian and I worked for almost a year on our show A Midsummer Night’s Swing, or It Don’t Mean a Thing If It Ain’t Got That Dream, but, as always, the final weeks of rehearsals were rushed, and many of the arrangements that were performed were never finished on paper, including his original piece for the show, “Titania’s Lullaby.” It was beautiful, and I hate to think it’s gone.

The show was a big success, and working on it forged a friendship between Brian and me that stayed strong despite rarely seeing each other. I was surprised and thrilled, years later, when Brian dropped out of nowhere and onto my front porch for a birthday I had years later; we had no friends in common, really, and it had been ages since we’d talked. Brian knew that he wouldn’t know anyone there, but he came, alone, and was funny and sincere and fantastic. He had a great time. Seeing him was the highlight of the night for me.

I got a call from Brian a couple of months ago. Whenever we talked we talked a lot; it seemed that despite years between conversations, we had never really lost touch. Brian had an idea for a play and was looking for a playwright to help edit, or maybe to collaborate – I wasn’t sure which. I was excited about the chance to work with him again. His idea was to splice Waiting for Godot and Peanuts. Of course.

Honestly, I didn’t get it at first, but he was so excited I jumped in with him. After re-reading Godot and reading lots of Charles Schultz, it made sense. Alas, I lacked follow-through. I thought there would be time later. Nothing came of it, as far as I know.

(I’d be interested if Brian discussed this idea with any readers of this blog, and whether he ever pursued it. I’d love to know more about what he had in mind or had come up with.)

Last week I was considering what show to choose when or if I return to directing theater. I decided the show to do would be our version of Midsummer. I thought about how I needed to give Brian a call.

Pace, And The Book Of Air and Shadows Reconsidered

A complete lack of balance has thrown me off kilter, and I’ve been zombie-esque walking the halls. I’ve over-reacted to meaningless but seemingly distressing news from far away, and haven’t paused enough to appreciate truly sad news here at home. I enjoyed but didn’t fully engage in a nice family wedding. I haven’t exercised in a week, and, in a rush at a gig, ate not one but two walking tacos, Fritos snack bags topped with taco meat and cheese. I’ve been running around, racing rats, and lost a bit of myself in the process. No signs of the pace letting up, but the coping skills are kicking in.

Roderick gave me an assignment that is now way past due, a song about my time in Oregon to be written and posted here. I think about it every day, but I’m not exaggerating about the pace of everyday life lately, so I need to extend the due date more than a bit. But it will happen.

Tying up a loose end:

Someone hit this site Googling for discussion questions for the novel The Book of Air and Shadows. When I saw that, I was reminded of the less than flattering write up I did here about the book. Well, I finished the book, quite some time ago, and I have to say that it really redeemed itself in my eyes. Turns out, much of what I complained about was, I think, deliberate; one major theme of the book is how we allow the familiar patterns in popular fiction to effect our expectations of the world. So he used those patterns to made that point. It’s actually a topic I’m fascinated by. Once class I teach is basically on that point. So I’m embarrassed that I wrote critically of the book, when really I was just falling for the very point the author was making. Cool.

That’s an interesting topic for me: to what degree is author intent relevant? I tell my students that it really doesn’t matter what the author means to do. What matters is what he or she does. But I don’t quite buy into that. Here’s a weird “for instance.”

A while ago, the now-defunct band The Darkness was getting a lot of press as being very influenced by Queen. I like Queen, so I listened to The Darkness’ only album at the time. I thought it was ridiculous and over-blown and awful, full of bombast, like Queen, but without the sense of irony or fun.

Then, later, I saw their second album, and I realized that they were in on the joke – that the bombast and absurdity was the whole point. This became clear to me when I saw the title of their second album: “One Way Ticket To Hell. . . and Back.” Now, I love ‘em.

See? Author’s intent.

Here are some passages from The Book of Air and Shadows that I want to hang on to:

Someone once said. . . that stupidity was a character defense and had little to do with intelligence, one reason the so-called best and brightest got us into Vietnam and why people who are smart enough to accumulate huge piles of wealth persist in doing things that get them major jail time. Mit der Dummheit kampfen Gotter selbst vergebens, as, reportedly, my maternal grandmother used to say, quoting Schiller: against stupidity the gods themselves struggle in vain.

Paul’s theory is that our civilization is collapsing into a dark age and that the advancing edges of this are visible in urban ghettos. He says dark ages are all about forgetting civilization and its arts and also the increasing reluctance of the ruling classes to pay for civic life. This sealed the fate of Rom, he claims. He doesn’t think that the ghetto needs uplift, however, but rather that when the crash comes, the poor will survive better than their masters. They need less, he says, and the are more charitable, and the don’t have to unlearn as much. This s was shy Jesus preferred them. Yes, quite crazy; but when I observe the perfect helplessness of my fellow citizens of the middle class and higher, our utter dependence on electricity, cheap gas, and the physical service of unseen millions, our reluctance to pay our fair share, our absurd gated enclaves, our “good buildings,” and our incompetence at any task other than the manipulation of symbols, I often think he has a point.

In fact, I recovered from my hysteria fairly rapidly, one of the advantages of being as shallow as a dish.

Well, you know, there is really nothing like Shakespeare, even performed by children. . . .[R]emarkably, when the golden lines begin to flow from their lips the are able for a moment to leave the shut hell of teenaged narcissism and inhabit a broader, richer universe.

I did not see or seek out Amalie, although I was aware of her presence in the house, like a rumor of war.

And here is where a character really sums up the point:

“Mishkin seemed remarkable interested, fascinated in fact, with. . . whether movies really determined our sense of how to behave, and more than that, our sense of what was real.
“Surly not,” Mishkin objected. “Surely it’s the other way around – filmmakers take popular ideas and embody them in films.”
“No, the movies come first. For example, no one ever had a fast-draw face-to-face shoot-out on the dusty Main Street in a western town. It never happened, ever. A screenwriter invented it for dramatic effect. It’s the classic American trope, redemption through violence, and it comes through the movies. There were very few handguns in the real old west. They were expensive and heavy and no one but an idiot would wear then in a side holster. On a horse? When you wanted to kill someone in the Old West, you waited for your chance and shot him in the back, usually with a shotgun. Now we have a zillion handguns because the movies taught us that a handgun is something a real man has to have, and people really kill each other like fictional western gunslingers. And it’s not just thugs. Movies shape everyone’s reality, to the extent that it’s shaped by human action – foreign policy, business, sexual relationships, family dynamics, the whole nine yards. It used to be the Bible but now it’s movies. Why is there stalking? Because we know that the guy should persist and make a fool of himself until the girl admits that she loves him. We’ve all seen it. Why is there date rape? Because the asshole is waiting for the moment when resistance turns to passion. He's seen Nicole and Reese do it fifty times. We make these little decisions, day by day, and we end up with a world. This one, like it or not.”

On Gigs and Green Monsters

There is much to write about concerning our recent trip to Oregon, and most of it should have already been written on the family blog, but for limited time and kids hogging the laptop. But two things invite rumination here, and there are quite unrelated.

The one that had the most impact was a gig, a playing out, a me- and- Roderick- and- friend- of- Roderick- sitting- on- a- public- sidewalk- with- guitars- and- digital- piano- making- music- for- several- hours- under- shifting- sky- for- a- growing- and- appreciative- audience. That was a great experience that forced me to dust off some muscles I haven’t used in quite a while. When folks would stroll by, stop for a bit, and end up looking for a table and ordering drinks or a meal, it was gratifying. Granted, it was a lot harder to find the chords by ear than it was several nights earlier, in the more casual setting of Roderick’s kitchen. Still, playing with Roderick and Chris was a joy, even the goofs, and playing some solo stuff became more and more fun as the evening (and a bit of liquid courage) developed. It was fun, a small gig that meant a lot because I would be unlikely to do something like that on my own. Maybe now I’m a bit more likely to do so.

The second thing to think about was motivated by a small book I bought at my new favorite bookstore.

In Portland, we stopped by Powell’s Books in Portland and spent two hours there. It was fantastic, and there is something nice to be said about a friendship between families when most of the nine folks involved consider hours at a massive bookseller to be a wonderful use of vacation time.

Flashback: Just one day before leaving for this trip, I had a twilight idea. That’s my wife’s term: the twilight area between sleep and awake, when you’re still in a bit of a dream-state, and you find yourself caught in a story or situation you find compelling, but you’re awake enough to direct the action a bit.

I was in that state, with a story about a character I never thought I cared about in a medium that I never really considered writing in.

It’s a character that is owned by someone else, a character very well established and who is making a lot of folks rich, so there’s little chance that his story would be entrusted to me.

It is also a character that I know only a little about, comparatively.

All of this is a dilemma, yes?

Also, I’m getting a backlog of ideas, with little work to show for it. This is creative quicksand, and I’d best grab a branch soon.

So at the great big bookstore, I looked a bit at the history of this character, with more research waiting for me on the reserve shelf at the library when I return home. The thought is that I might write a story for this character, but I need to know more about his mythology. One thing I found is that someone else already plumbed some of the ideas I was going to use with this character. Another good reason to abandon ship, but I’m intrigued by my idea and am not ready to bail just yet.

I found a book by Alan Moore, the author of Watchmen, called Writing for Comics. And now, days later, on the plane on the way home, I just read it. I found the Afterward, written fifteen years later than the original essays, to be encouraging and inspiring, reminding me, in different language, of a phrase I often say to my students and my kids, too often forgetting to listen to it myself:

Leap and the net will appear.

Maybe I’ll write the story as an exercise. Maybe my lack of enthusiasm for writing stems from the assumption that having had success with a musical, I have to write another musical.

Maybe I should write a script for a comic book.

Maybe I’ll figure out a way to get the enormous publisher who owns the character to solicit a highly non-traditional story idea about one of it’s benchmark characters from an inexperienced, unheard-of writer who has paid no dues.

Uh huh. Right.

Maybe I’ll abandon snobbish judgment and write it as a piece of fan fiction, a huge cultish world I’ve heard of but never visited and know nothing about, including not knowing if fan fiction of this type even exists.

In the Afterward, Moore quotes Shaky Kane, whom I’ve never heard of, with a line I’m considering posting in my classroom:

“Don’t be cool. Like everything.”

We’ve started our descent, so the laptop must go away.

Tater Tots: First Review

I just received a review of Lunch Lady: Tater Tots of Love from the director of the production at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe:

"Pass the sick bag - its another High School Musical", was my first thought, when kids with air-brushed good looks burst into song in the school lunch hall; but rather than saccharine dross, this new musical has a sinister side. Socially awkward, yet hardly lacking in the looks department, Anthony David falls for perfect and popular Clarissa and receives unlikely assistance from the dinner staff, so far soooo utterly predictable. Only, get this, Clarissa's perfection came at a price: she made a Faustian pact with the school's demonic Dean. The songs were mostly good, although a few of the chorus numbers could have done with a little more volume and diction. A school musical that for a refreshing change doesn't sell its soul for vomit-inducing cheesiness.

Also, Too

Yeah, so it wasn't Bobby McFerrin in the airport, but some other dread-locked, linen shirt wearing, cool-looking black guy. Just a little bit of research revealed that Bobby is in France.

Still, not seeing him yesterday did get me thinking about him. Tomorrow perhaps I will walk the beach and return to his music. It's been a long time.

Bobby McFerrin has had a big impact on me. His album Medicine Music is profoundly beautiful. It's influence on me is made partially clear by a song I wrote sixteen years ago. Wow. Sixteen years ago. That's like it was written by a whole different person.

I was in an a cappella group at the time.

The credit that appears on the media player will be for Everlasting Happiness, because that's the name I chose when creating the site on GarageBand.com. But the performance is actually by Throat Culture, circa 1992. This recording is from the album A Cappella Head.

Also, Too

Arrival at the Pacific Coast

It’s almost too ideal, this moment here, sitting by a fire in a lovely quaint living room, over-sized windows to a sunset on the Pacific, wife with great new haircut doing crosswords over there. Roderick’s wife sitting doing Sudoku puzzles, quietly saying song titles to keep the music going as Roderick just there picks tastefully at a cool, black, graphite acoustic guitar. (A graphite guitar? Da hell?)

“Mr. Lucky,” she requests.

Roderick’s wife does not yet have a blog name. Misty she shall henceforth be.









I write two blogs, which is excessive, yes. One is about my family, and this one is about my creative pursuits and related or not so related topics. It seems this trip may not fit neatly into either category.

What to do? This is clearly a family trip. But there is also a keyboard set up just over there, a barbecue / jam session is scheduled, and a gig with Roderick, a friend of his, and me forthcoming. There is more than a little talk about creativity and music and all of that.

“I Will.”

We woke at 4:00 AM to catch an early flight, stopped a moment in Minneapolis, where I’m pretty darned certain I bumped into Bobby McFerrin, who has had a pretty profound effect on me in a whole lot of ways, but I wasn’t sure enough it was him to say anything. I don’t want to be the white guy who is wrong when he says to the black dread-locked guy "Aren't you BobbyMcFerrin?"

“Blackbird.”

We arrived in Portland at 11:00 AM West Coast Time. Our family had an elaborate scheme planned, based on an old, too-hard-to-explain inside joke. So we walked out of the gate with each member of our family wearing a fake mustache. We walked around the corner, and there they were, Roderick, Misty and their two boys, all wearing fake mustaches.

“Crazy Love.”

A terrific meal at Moe’s – believe it, I had never had clam chowder before. This was a very good place to start. I had a cup of clam chowder as an appetizer, then crab stuffedavocado, then a cup of clam chowder for dessert. So I'm not sure what the marionberry cobbler was if the chowder was dessert. I was just surprised that the crack smoking mayor of D.C. could bake so well.

A long walk on the beach to wait for check-in time, and then to the house from which I'm typing just this moment.

“Why Georgia Why.”

I’ve never been to the west coast, and am struck by the different character here. I’ve only been here half of one overcast day, but it seems to me that this end of the county has it all over the other end. I've always loved the ocean, both of them, but while I'm way over here, out of earshot, let's be honest. The Atlantic coast is great, but it just tries too hard. The Pacific just has it the whole beach thing down. Itdoesn ’t try to be a bad ass with how hot it can get, it knows the classy impact of a big land mass here and there, maybe some rocks to break up the sand. You wanna bring a beer or twenty-four down here with you buds, maybe have a fire? 'scool. The Pacific knows you’ll take good care of things; you’re responsible, good folk, after all, and it trusts you. And your dogs. Dogs are cool.

“These Days.”

So, we got here. Beautiful house. We settled in, kids shot pool and tried to fly a broken kite for a while. I had a big self-indulgent run on the beach, and now here we are.

“You’ve Got A Friend”

Lunch Lady Run Through

Yesterday I was invited to a run through of Lunch Lady at the school that is taking it to the Fringe Festival. Great great fun.

I was invited to take notes, as well, and while the show isn't mine as much as it is theirs, it was great to get my grubby little hands on it again. I wrote 5 pages of notes, most of them for very small suggestions, things like:

ADD – give it a beat before the laughter – you’re anticipating. Jordan – unstrap your shoe. Dean Dean – excellent authority. Nice villainy. Stephen – concentrate on final consonants. Jah Jah Jah: awesome.

But occasionally I would indulge in little notes to myself, like

Boom – Go! Can’t let that energy fizzle. Damn! My fault. I gave you no transition. Who wrote this crap?!

And this one, which me coming up for air and realizing both how wonderful and how surreal it is to see stuff from my imagination up on stage:

At this point, I saw the forest, and was pretty moved thinking about you doing this show.

They were very responsive to my suggestions, which, I was careful to tell them, were only suggestions - it is their show now, and any changes I suggest should be decided between them and their director.

After I gave notes, I asked if they had any questions, and it was like a dream. You know that fantasy about being interviewed by Johnny Carson (if you're old like me) or, now, Terry Gross, or, if you're Jimmy Rabbitte in The Commitments, Terry Wogan? I got to do that. "How long did it take you to write it?" "Are you writing anything else?" "Any ideas for a sequel?" It's a rarefied experience, one I was privileged to have. Also, it was a frickin' blast.

But is doesn't take long to get weary of talking about oneself - even if that one is me - and that was that.

They are doing a "send off" performance on August 1st, which is the day before we leave for Roderickville, but I'm going anyway. It's free, and it's at 7:30 at their school. If you're local and you'd like to go, let me know.

Editin' and Giggin'

Lunch Lady: Tater Tots of Love, the musical I wrote, will be performed at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in a couple of weeks. I spent the last couple of days doing some final requested edits on the accompaniment tracks, adding pick-ups to songs that start with no cue (tough on a singer if the music is prerecorded.) I tried adding pick-ups by recording a simple piano note, but that sounded bad because it is a different piano than the studio grand used to record the tracks in the first place. So what I had to do was find little piano fills in the existing tracks, cut them out, copy them, remove other instruments, tack them to the front of the music, and cross-fade for extra buttery smoothness. It was a tedious process, but an interesting challenge.

So I've not played out, solo, in a long long time. I've worked up a handful of songs in case the opportunity presents itself, but I've not sought the opportunities. (I'm not including the Yipee Jesus band I'm in. I'm talking solo piano/vox.) The whole family is traveling across many states to visit Roderick and clan very soon, and he's lined up a gig for us and some folks he knows. Yoikes, but yippee, too.

Then he sends me a list of songs they know, and it's, like, this endless, enormous spreadsheet. Double yoikes. No fair, Roderick! You guys are for real! Little casual gig my butt.

Looking forward to it, though.

Checking in:

The most creative thing I've done since the last entry:
Mostly I've been practicing piano.

The least creative thing I've done since the last entry:
Bought junk on ebay, mostly for my kids. Actually, mostly for daughter, cuz I am bribing her to clean her room and do her summer reading: Pride and Prejudice DVD for $1.25 (that's 50 cents per vice, plus 25 cents for Keira Knightly.) (Although I think my daughter's interest in the film leans a bit more toward the guy who plays Darcy. She, daughter, is of a certain charming pre-teen age.) Jailhouse Rock for daughter (Whodathunk an 11-year-old could dig Elvis in 2008?), a Jailhouse Rock poster, and, for me, two movies I really like though they are generally considered to be awful: Daredevil, the directors cut (see previous post. $1.04!) and A.I. (99 cents!). I love A.I. I tend to like big beautiful messes by brilliant directors. Julie Taymor's Titus comes to mind as well.

Hmmm . . . have to check that one out on eBay.

Stuff that helped:
Time. It's summer, and I have time to play the piano. The other night, I had the house to myself for the first time in forever. I figured I would play the piano for about fifteen minutes, and then check email, and then clean the kitchen. So I played for a little while, and then checked email, and suddenly everyone was home again. The fifteen minutes at the piano was actually three hours. LOVE THAT!

Stuff that hindered:
eBay is frickin' FUN, baby.

Current project:
Learning tunes for the Roderick gig.

Next project:
Stalled on BIG PROJECT and BIG IDEA, despite encouraging emails from several readers. Will return, perhaps as leaves change.

Guitar?:
Diddley. As in squat, not Bo.

What I should be reading these days:
Nothin'. Can't only read what's good for you. I'm committed to junk for a while. After the current book (see below), I want to read a good stack of comics.

Oh, crap. But I also what to read stuff highly recommended by friends, including Free Play, for my creative self, and A Brief History of Everything, for my philosophical self, and The Universe Next Door for my arguing - about - the - nature - of - existence - with - a - friend - with - whom - I - disagree - a - lot - and - he - keeps - referring - to - this - book - so - I - need - to - read - it - to - keep - up self.


What I'm actually reading these days:
Summer is a time for reading for fun. I'm halfway through The Book of Air and Shadows, and it isn't nearly as good as the first few chapters were. It's lost it's sense of humor, and the main character is misogynistic (and incredibly strong!), so we've waded into stereotypical territory. It's basically a thriller mystery in the genre of DaVinci Code, with more witty twists (in plot and structure) and much better writing.

Today I recommend:
This, but I don't know why. It came to me via a reader.

The Dark Knight. Superheros. And Me

Yeah, I loved it. Of course I loved it.

And yes, of course I saw it at midnight on opening, um, morning. And pretty much all I've wanted to do since is see it again.

When I got home, at 3:00 am, I spent hours online reading every review, story, and interview about it. And most of them were really good, although one of my favorite reviewers really hated it. The one who most closely hit the marks I would hit is my hometown reviewer, Frank Gabrenya. But Peter Travers nails it too, though he's crazy thinking that Aaron Eckhart stole the show. This one belongs to the Heath Ledger's Joker.

See? See what a huge superhero geek I am?

Let me tell you what a geek I am. After buying tickets to the midnight screening, I felt like I used to feel when I was a little kid the night before going to Cedar Point. I was so excited, even I knew what a dork I was being.

Okay, yes. This is great movie, comic book hero or not. But the truth is, I just love comic book hero movies, even the bad ones. I'm the guy who liked Fantastic Four and X-Men: The Last Stand. I enjoyed Ghost Rider and Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer. I even had a blast at the films that are so bad that they had to reboot the franchise to recover, namely Batman and Robin and Hulk (sans "Incredible.")

In fact, I own them all on DVD. Worse, I watch them. Watched Daredevil just now with the kids.

I know I go a bit too far with this. Not TOO too far. I always feel a little sad for the guys who dress in costume at movies. I have my limits, some pointless: I avoid wearing my Superman watch when wearing a superhero t-shirt. I don't have any kind of superhero bumper stickers, but I do have a super-s on this laptop, and Superman floor mats in my car.

Just before the final Harry Potter book came out - yeah, I love them, but I'm off topic for a minute - a friend who really loves them expressed his crazy enthusiasm by shyly asking "Do you sometimes feel lucky to be alive during the time that Harry Potter is being written?" And I knew what he meant. No other generation will get to read those books first, like no one will ever be able to see Hamlet without knowing the ending. And I caught myself wondering the same thing: Do I feel lucky being around for the great superhero renaissance of the early 21st century?

Nope. I don't feel lucky.

It's not luck, because it's not a coincidence. We, the folks my age, had been targeted as kids by TV shows like The Incredible Hulk and Shazam! and Spider-man and even those Captain America TV movies that made no sense (a silent motorcycle? Why?) I remember watching every single one of them, and loving them all.

Okay. So we hit college, had disposable income of our own, and the market granted our wish. Suddenly, comics were huge: lots of mainstream coverage, and comic book shops on every corner. Frank Miller and Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman came along and wrote well enough to give comics actual credibility (though the new word "graphic novel" always seemed like to desperate an attempt to be taken seriously.)

So now we're all in our thirties and forties, and a lot of us have money to spend on movies, and others of us are the decision makers in Hollywood, and here we are. It's bonanza time for superhero geeks, especially this summer.

In college I was on the bandwagon, spending embarrassing amounts of money on comics under the justification, widely held at the time, that I was investing. Yeah. Talk about escapism.

Back then, when I was reading a comic - or the stack of comics they held for me at Central City Comics every week - I disappeared. I completely forgot everything else that was going on. It was a similar feeling - not quite the same, but similar - to the feeling I would get as a kid, when me and other neighborhood nerds would pretend to be superheros in the back yard. There is a word for the vividness that children experience when imagining - I read about it recently, but I can't remember the term. There is much less a boundary between the real word and young kid's imagination. When children are in an imaginary world, they are really there in a way that we old farts can't, well, imagine. I can still vividly picture some of the adventures I had as a superhero. I was usually Spider-man, but one mission still stands out as if I was really there. I was Iron Man, and I gripped the top of a small picnic table that was in fact a small electric car like the ones in The Incredibles. Mine was speeding through tunnels toward the villain's underground lair while I held on for dear life.

Iron Man? Really?

Anyway, the brain grows, or, actually, shrinks, or at least culls, and the distinction between imagination and reality becomes clearer and clearer as we age, which is a drag. But in college, I could still get a taste of the loss of time and distraction when reading comic books. Now I re-live that with the movies, even the bad ones. But especially the good ones.

So, according to me, what are the good ones? I think a recent story in The Dispatch gets the top ten about right, though it went to press before The Dark Knight came out. I would put Iron Man at number one (two, now, post Dark Knight). The panel includes the animated Mask of the Phantasm, which isn't real memorable to me, and Spider-man 2 deserves a higher spot. I was pleased they included The Incredibles; it was on my unofficial top ten too. But if they are going to include superheros created just for the movies (not just those originating in comic books) then they should include The Matrix as well. Yes, it is a superhero story, damn it. You've got super powers, secret identities, saving the world, all the major tropes.

See? Geek!

One of the these days I'll post my list of favorite comic books here, as requested by a reader and friend who is looking to read the good ones. But I'm pretty clear on what my number one comic book will be, though Dark Knight Returns and Sandman will in the running.

So what happens when one of my all time favorite comics becomes a big-budget film? A hint at the answer arrived in the theater just minutes before Dark Knight.

I'll tell you what happens. Dorkgasm. It's geek-topia:

Back To School

Speaking of BIG projects my dear friend Lennie - dead as you are.  This weekend I took a rather big plunge myself.  Not into a project really, but rather, a (rather) large commitment to learning guitar and moving forward.  After thinking about it for quite a few months, I just signed up for the first of what will be 8 online classes with the Berkley School of Music to pursue their Guitar Masters Certificate Program.  I'm going to try out the first class and first semester and see if I like it (and if it's going to give me the type of learnings that I would like) and then take it from there.  I'm pretty excited about it actually.  The first class is one I desperately need and have been unhappy with my ability to teach myself.  This program will allow me to work on it wherever I am and within my ever changing schedule.  Cool.

Also, just booked a very important gig in August - the 16th to be exact - so Dead Lennie - get ready!  We're going to have good fun.  I'm going to send you some song ideas so we can think about doing some stuff together.  Start your practicing oh stone faced one!

The Book of Air and Shadows

There is nothing like a canceled dentist appointment - canceled by them! - to make a few free hours feel like a gift. And these couple of hours, while I wait to collect my offspring from various sweaty, over-programed activities, are spent with the book I chose, The Book of Air and Shadows.

Laura Miller is a book critic of a magazine I like, Salon.com, and she happened to be the subject of an interview on summer reading as I was driving to the library. She recommended the new novel by Michael Gruber, but she mentioned his previous novel in passing, and used the name "Shakespeare" in it's description. I'm a fan of Shakespeare, so I grabbed it.

A bit disappointed at first, if only because it looms large and pompous in size and cover, as does the author in his photo.

But I'll be damned if I'm not having a blast with this thing. It is funny and smart and mysterious. It's a PostIt note kind of book, a habit I developed with The Braindead Megaphone and Space Vulture, sticking PostIts at lines I like. So now a quick break to bask in good writing and log a few of the memorable lines just from this past hour of reading:

"It was dated 1602, right after Hamlet was registered and a year earlier than the First Quarto, raising interesting questions: were the differences mere transcription errors or did they mean that the author had changed his play after it was performed? It was the sort of thing that generates multiple orgasms among the learned." "The Mishkin genes do not work and play will with others. They either dominate totally or leave the field in a huff. Thus I look exactly like my dad, the Jewish refrigerator carton, while my brother and sister are blondie rails, recruiting posters for the Hitlerjugend."

". . .[E]ven after I was offstage and even after we'd done our three performances in the orange-juice-smelling auditorium, I still felt inhabited by Telegin, and this was wonderful to me, that a made-up person created by a man long dead could in a sense displace my own personality." ". . .I would say that Shakespeare's famous powers of invention do not show well in the matter of plots. All but two of the plays are ripped off, sometimes blatantly, from prior sources; and it was a good thin for him they didn't have copyright in those days. We go to hear his plays for the language, just as we go to opera for the music; plot is secondary in both, trivial really, but - and contemporaries picked this up as well - there is no one like him for seizing something out of life and putting it on the stage."