Proof of Gardening

I watered again last night and then again this morning. I think I'll need to cut back to just morning watering from here on.


These are the tomatoes from the side. Notice the marigolds to keep bugs away. The plants may be too close together. These tomato plants will grow up not out, but I don't want the roots to collide.


We're maybe using half a row for the plants so far. From front to back, we have tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and garlic. The mulch covers the transplant beds. All have greenery above ground, except garlic. You plant the sprouts downward to develop the roots. The patch on the left is where we cut away blackberry bushes and are trying to grow lawn.

Gardening at Night (and the Morning)

I bought a new rainbow sprinkler before attacking the garden. Your Sis bought veggie plants from a school greenhouse sale, and I put them in the ground yesterday. I checked a few online gardening sites to see the best way to handle them and had my checklist next to me as I shoveled into the soil. It's been a few weeks since we tilled, but the subsoil was still most and soft.

I planted tomatoes and surrounded them with marigolds to keep the bugs away. It was a tip from Dad. I also put in garlic (already sprouting), peppers, and cucumbers (labeled "burpless"). I have them all in one row next to my grass experiment so I can water them all at one time. I ran the sprinkler last night for a half hour; all the rain we were supposed to get this weekend vanished. I got up early to water the garden again and then I put down veggie fertilizer and buried everything in mulch.

Almost as soon as I was done, I noticed a golden retriever standing in the mud and shooed him away. As if I wasn't already worried about rabbits. We have wire, and I hope to put down a fence this weekend, at the latest. The heat is probably keeping them at bay. I see more rabbits when we get lots of rain. I'll wake up early each morning to water the garden, and spend the time reading from the new script stacks. I've already read and graded two scripts since Tuesday night.

Mom said the copy of the will she has isn't automatically recognized by the lawyer. The copies she has are of an older version, unsigned, and the presiding lawyer at the time has moved and can't be located. I will sign papers saying I won't challenge the old will. Also, Mom may have misplaced the tax folder I set out for her a week ago. She sounds OK as long as she has a task at hand. We got a ton of cards at our house, and I'll need to work on thank-you cards this weekend.

The cold is fading. Specifically, it's exiting from a very specific point, and it's not lovely.

Picture of the Day
"God damn, that DJ made my day."

Reading Material

The theatre script committee met again last night. The fearless leader has instituted a July deadline to choose the plays, and we now know how many we need -- four: a comedy, a farce, a drama, and a mystery. The musical, Christmas show, and kid's show will be picked by other folks. We were given a grade sheet showing what scores the scripts have so far. We were also assigned new scripts. I have eight. EIGHT. I don't know any of these shows, unlike with the last batch, but I'm already in the second act of the first script, a mystery-comedy.

I had no idea how expensive the big shows are. Hello, Dolly! will cost the theatre $3,500 just for the royalties. That's based on a 300-seat house. If we tried to sell tickets for the entire high-school auditorium, we'd have to cough up $9,000. The director is getting $5,000. I had no clue directors made that much money.

We toured the new theatre home after the meeting. it's the former Legion hall. It needs renovations badly, but it's a nice stage space. We'll have to use another space for musicals because the echo will ruin those shows. Inherit the Wind, a show I had high hopes for, won't be produced this year. We're still trying to present a flashy season with high-profile titles to raise money; the renovation expenses could run past $300,000.

I'm the youngest of the committee, but I feel like I can contribute decent opinions on the material. I don't feel like a token member, and I suspect I'm being groomed as new blood for the theatre.

Picture of the Day
Don't ask where he keeps the steering wheel.

Sick

I officially have whatever hobo cough Your Sister has brandished since January. She doesn't believe me when I note it's lasted six months. I am light-headed and sleepy, and my tummy has no floor, and I don't want to be at work. But I don't have the gumption to stay home after already missing a week.

I watered my grass seeds yesterday and realized my cheap rainbow sprinkler is a cheap piece of junk. Your Sis won a Rotary Outstanding Teacher Award yesterday.

Picture of the Day
A shining example of the first rule of copy editing: You have to employ a dirty mind.

Back to Normal

Well, sort of. Things are good until I remember Dad isn't on a long vacation.

We had din-din with Kathy and Travis Friday to catch them up on all the details of the past week. They announced that they are preggers again (by design) and will host another German student for a month this summer.

I drove down to Mom's house to help with small items. I figured out how to make their DVD player work with the HDTV. I fixed a broken tail light. I Drano'd the back shower drain that was probably clogged when Dad's hair fell out. We picked up a flag-display case at Michael's, and I'm somewhat shocked they carry them. I also swung by my hometown comic store; they ship my monthly haul to me. I put money into the donation jar for my high-school buddy recently diagnosed with intestinal cancer.

Mom sounds OK. She has several tasks at hand, and that helps her muddle through. She isn't buried in appointments but has enough to keep her busy. Also, I suspect she's rewatching the Stepford Wives remake on her now-functioning DVD player.

I planted grass seed next to the garden and began plotting how to arrange the garden with our veggies. We watched the new Indiana Jones film, and it's sadly disappointing. Harmless and light. Your Sis opened the birthday package and laughed at the socks.

The mixture of cigarettes, odd sleep patterns, and pollen have gotten me all sick like. I can't run as I'd like.

Picture of the Day
NASA says the Mars Phoenix probe may have uncovered ice already. We knew there was ice there. The question is "is there flowing water?"

What I Remember

I wanted to jot down the big moments that happened since Saturday. There's no order to these.

1) Mom didn't want a full military funeral for Dad because he didn't retire. He had a flag on his closed coffin. Dad didn't look like himself in death. The morticians did a fine job with him, but without a recent photo to work from, they didn't know what coloring was normal. He looked clean. But he didn't look like the Bruce everyone remembered. His eyelashes were gone. His eyebrows were gone. He only had wisps of hair on top. His nose was unmistakable though. So were the ears. He looked a lot like his dad right before his dad died. Mom thought he looked like a particular brother.

Anyway, about the flag, even though we had no color guard for the funeral, the funeral directors attended to the ceremonial flag folding. I had only seen this live once, and that was with my Uncle Ray last year. He got the full show -- bugle, 21-gun salute, the choreographed march, etc. And just as with Ray, two people picked up the flag from the coffin, stretched it out, folded it twice longways, and then made the traditional 13 folds, turning it into a padded triangle. It looks like a giant paper football. Then the lead director -- a guy named Scott Fowler who took care of us since Sunday -- handed it to Mom and gave the traditional flag declaration: On behalf of the President of the United States and the Department of the Army, this flag is presented on behalf of a grateful nation and the United States Army as a token of appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service. Mom had often said that this would be the hardest moment of the funeral and joked she might fall into the grave herself. Scott joked that he could use a shepherd's hook to yank her out, and reminded her with a wink to not fall in after he handed her the flag.

When it rains, the funeral home will give you a plastic, transparent cover that fits the flag like a glove, and she cradled it while we stood and said goodbye to the funeral attendees. I promised myself that, no matter what, I would stay sober and dry when Mom took that flag. If she lost composure, I'd be secure for her to lean on. But she did fine. I whispered to her that we have so many reasons to be proud of Dad.

OK, I just now lost my shit. I felt it coming all day, and I wanted it to happen when I was alone, and it did. Finally. I kept it together since Saturday, and I think the majority of the exhaustion and weariness is out. It's a big relief. I've lumbered about all day with this weight.

Let me tell when I almost did crumble during this whole mess. I'll be quick.

a) When I walked into the emergency room for the first time. Mom and Mrs. Crow, the neighbor who called me about Dad, were standing in the small private room with what appeared to be an empty piled with bundles of blankets on it. Before I could get near to Mom, I craned to look at the bed and thought maybe they had taken Dad for a scan right before I saw the top of his head. He was curled on his left side asleep, and he looked to be about three feet long. He was diminished. A teenager would have made a larger profile on the bed. I saw his socked feet sticking under the blanket at the bed's edge, and this physical reduction almost did me in. Then I saw Mom's red eyes, and I had to keep together. I hadn't heard any details of his condition yet.

b) When they wheeled him to palliative care. They unlocked the room bed and slowly pushed it to the other side of the hospital. I had already been there an hour, and we knew he wasn't coming home. He was only hooked to a simple IV and a catheter. His breathing was like, well, an animal. A growing animal. As he made the first turn out of the room, I had to cough down the crying fit.

c) When I thanked the pallbearers before the funeral. Four of them I had known all my life. I had always thought of them through my kid memories of big adults, and here I looked them in the eyes. We were all adult men, and they were doing my Dad the biggest favor they could, and before I could even get the words of gratitude out, my mouth stiffened and stretched. I cleared my throat and shook their hands, and then quickly walked to the back of the chapel and ate it.

So back to the memories:

2) Your Dad's face when we first saw each other in the chapel. He gave me a bearhug, and I was tempted to apologize to him for being the means by which he had met Dad and was brought to this moment. I had just walked into the room, and was hugged by cousins and aunts I had never seen before. Some folks I did know. Lots of people told me then and the night before that I looked just like Dad, and I had the ready joke that I grew the beard for Mom's convenience.

3) Right after the funeral, I saw my local buddy Travis, Kathy's husband, and he couldn't even speak. He was on the verge of tears. I thanked him, told him to go if he needed, and that I'd call him this weekend. His reactions surprised me. Your Sis suspects he, as a new dad, has a fear of leaving his wife and daughter behind in a similar situation.

4) I met a church couple who have a son who only answers to Peter Parker. As a lifelong geek, I am both relieved and shocked I never thought of that. When we played heroes as a kid, I was either Batman (because I have the middle name "Bruce") or Superman (because I wore glasses as Clark Kent would).

5) I developed a politician's handshake at the visitation. I'd extend my hand and place me left hand on the person's back while we talked. My left shoulder was killing me when he left the funeral home.

6) Your Sister did a lot of emotional heavy lifting. Mom and I tagged off to juggle the workload, but Your Sis and I tagged off to juggle Mom. She deserved a better birthday weekend. I'm trying to make it up to her.

7) My uncle Louis made things difficult. He had knee-replacement surgery last week, but he was adamant he didn't need rehab. He needed a next-of-kin to release him, and he called Saturday night while Dad was still in the hospital. Mom, who has always buttressed him, didn't need this shit and shrugged him off. He left the rehab center. He was at the visitation with a walker and decided he was immediate family. I ran interference to keep him from hovering over Mom. But he tends to turn any occasion into the Louis Show, and he tried it that night. He wanted to stand with us at the casket, and I maneuvered him away from Mom and Your Sister. He likes to play women for sympathy. We had four stools at the foot of Dad's coffin, and he was furthest away. Then me, then Your Sis, then Mom. I think it worked OK. It let me introduce Heidi to people, and Mom could overhear the names to spark her memory. Louis also as an anchor at the funeral, but we minimized his impact.

8) Mom and I had a great conversation at the mall food court after buying her new shoes for the visitation and funeral. We're starting to talk like old friends instead of stilted relations. Might be the only good thing to come from all this. Your Sis and I also had good meals with my Uncle Don and Your Parents.

It's now Friday, and I'm mostly back to normal. I've called Mom twice, and she sounds OK. She suggested I stay home this weekend, but we need to keep momentum on our new friendship, and there are some things at the house that need doing. I've stayed busy; my momentum from the Saturday-Wednesday constant stream of task completion has got me stuck in a new gear. I can't sit still. I've washed the cars, done the laundry, bought gardening materials, signed my painting, baked bread, and barely sat through the Lost finale (which was good and gooder). I still need to mow the lawn and transplant the veggies to the back yard. I have quite a number of things to do. And new initiative to get them done.

The Day Before

Your Sister is sick, but she continues to work. I assume we'll go to Asheville this weekend for the restaurant, and we might pick up her car stereo too. Depends on how she feels. I handed her the bag from you and Your Parents, but she's too waterlogged to enjoy opening it. It sits next to the sick bed.

I feel a bit nervous about the race. I know my start time and where to go and when I should wake up and stretch and snack. But I worry about the crowd and preparation of the staff. This is no longer an official event for the Memorial Festival, and I hope the new organizers secured some police protection for the runners along those back roads. They're also running a 10K at the same time on the same course.

I don't feel like I've done enough to get into shape. I lost time to gardening and weather, and, while I feel lighter in some places, I worry about my legs on the hills. And the last hill looms. It fucking LOOMS. I'm determined to run until I vomit. I haven't done that yet, and I suspect I need that rite of passage.

Picture of the Day
This is the kind of ads that can boost newspaper distribution.

I Might Be in Trouble Here

Yesterday's run was tricky. Not as windy, not as hot, but I started off with sore...

Wit, Your Mom just dropped by work, and we chatted for about 15 minutes. The highlights:
1. Sounds like you found a condo. Second floor is best for a flat are that gets hurricanes. Also, you're an hour from the beach.
2. We talked about Dad. He couldn't take chemo yesterday because a new neck growth emerged. They'll look at it today. His blood count is down, his weight is up.
3. She dropped off the stuff from you, and I haven't looked inside yet.
4. We talked about Saturday's race, which goes back to ...

The sore legs I had yesterday, and that surprised me. My legs usually don't ache like that, and I suspect the Monday hill run lingers with me. My breath was fine because I couldn't run as fast. Kathy called yesterday to say it might not be best for us to run together, because I talk too much, and she runs too slow. I can shut up for the race, and I don't want to abandon her.

I finished another script and now have one and a half to read before Tuesday. The committee chair left me a key to the warehouse rehearsal space so I can drop off and pick up scripts. I want to take Your Sister there Saturday. She never saw us rehearse there. We'll hit that before we leave town on the way to Asheville to eat at the Indian place.

We watched the last 15 minutes of the American Idol finale, and we're relieved that Napoleon Dynomutt didn't win.

There's no new Lost tonight. The two-hour finale is next Thursday.

Picture of the Day
Japan now sports walking vending machine robots. Or something.

I Am Beat Up

I ran a 5k route when I got home, and the weather didn't help. It was windy and much hotter than usual, and they took their toll. A recurring problem has developed where my diaphragm is tightening up later in my run. I have to stop and let it relax. I think I'm in OK shape. This hasn't happened to me before, and I don't think it's posture or bad form. It's odd. I ran the whole route after stopping for a breather, and I'm feeling it today. My legs are tight, and my feet feel a half-size larger.

I'll try the run once more before Saturday's race.

Picture of the Day
It's a real-life beer commercial.

Weekend

We hosted Kathy and Travis on Friday for a cookout. I showed them the painting --- wait, I gotta rant here.

I went to two Michael's stores on Friday and Saturday, and neither one would help me with framing. I couldn't get the frame people to even make eye contact with me as I stood at each counter with a 12 x 16 canvas in my hand. I even leaned over to look at the samples Velcroed to the wall. . Fuck them. I'll go with another store. Had their chance. Blew it.

Anyway, I told them during the meal about listening to Fight Club commentaries during the painting. This lead to me reciting the film and we cleared the table and watched the DVD. We got almost to the end before Your Sis started to nod off, and we packed it up.

Kathy asked me about running in next week's 5k, and I told her I had considered it, but didn't really plan on it. She's running, and wanted a running partner on Saturday for practice. I agreed to it, and we met at 8 a.m. to run the course. She asked me beforehand to cuss at her for motivating during the hard parts but I didn't have the nerve. When she was too pooped to run, she was gasping. We stopped often, but finished within 45 minutes. This is the first run designed around the Music Center, and the final leg is paved cruelty. It's a steep, steep hill right before the end. I felt OK when we finished. So well, in fact, that I drove home and ran another mile just to get it all out of me. I'll run twice this week before the Saturday morning race. I admit, I'm a smidgen torn on the race. I want to run it at my speed, but I don't want to abandon Kathy; I'm running to get her through it. But I know I can race up that last hill.

Your Sis and I went to Asheville to shop at a jewelry store. On the way, we spied a jet fighter buzzing the airport over and over. She got emotional over it -- nostalgia and glee mixed together. The jewelry store was a bust, unfortunately, but we found something else that might do the trick: a new car stereo. We found Best Buy's bank of samples, including a stereo with a USB jack. I happened to have mine with me, and we plugged it in and activated the speakers. Out streamed the entrance music to the Dan Savage sex-advice podcast, and we immediately yanked out the drive out. Her eyes lit up over this stereo, and I think she's locked in on it. We might get her new speakers too.

We watched Iron Man, and she loved it. She chirped like a kid more than a few times. I got your check and letter when we got back. Don't panic. I will still take her to the restaurant for a meal.

We made another friendship cake on Sunday, and I started checking the research papers. They suck. The kids aren't using basic Word options to fix grammar and spelling. Inexcusable. I read my third script and now have three more to read in eight days. I can do that.

We watched the Saturday horse race from the TiFaux, and, thankfully, no horse died this time. I also watched the Cleveland/Boston basketball game while proofing papers.

Picture of the Day
Ta-daa!

Her Night

At the end of each school year, the two district high schools hold a recognition ceremony for staff and students. For, I think, the fifth straight year, Your Sister was named by a student as a memorable educator. She doesn't know who named her until the student stands up in front of everyone to present a gift. The kid also wrote a fantastic letter of gratitude, and Your Sister has to frame it. She just has to. Another student gave her a ton of chocolate and ceramic rabbits. I took her out to dinner after, and we got home in time to watch Lost, which I hope you got to watch on the road. If not, it replays next Thursday night.

The dealership replaced my CD player, and now I shall never ever play a new CD in it. I really believe Warner Brothers piracy software killed it. Thankfully, the dealership warranty covered all the costs. I read half the Inherit the Wind script while I waited, and now, I'm seriously and stupidly thinking of directing the damn thing. I have a way to mount the show without breaking the bank: a staged reading. There's no way they'd give me the reins thought. I'm too new to the club.

Picture of the Day
This is why you don't recycle display stands at Wal-Mart. This never would have happened when I worked there.

What A Run

I somehow managed a fantastic run when I got home. It may have been attributable to eating an actual lunch a few hours earlier. It may have been the tailwind on the hills. Maybe it was from chancing the route to include more flat spaces. In any case, I ran and ran and ran for more than half an hour, and when I reached my end point, I was running flat out. I felt great. Maybe this is from losing weight in the last few weeks. Maybe it was from finding a relaxed stride. I'll stop writing "maybe" now. If all runs were like that, I'd go out every day.

Picture of the Day
I have no idea.



The Rare Links Subhead
You can read all about NASA's big announcement here. The gist: We found a baby supernova, only 150 years old. It popped during the Civil War, and it's the first time we've seen one so new in this proximity.

Or you can peruse the entire Acme catalog from the Warner Brothers cartoons.

Talking Scripts

The script committee for the theatre met last night, although two of us were not only absent but purposefully left unidentified by the leader, my last director. He compiled a list of audience requests from the previous season and a list of all the shows produced by the theatre. We could then see the requests, debate their merits, and see when the theatre had last mounted those shows. Two shows got five requests each: Moustetrap, which I just read, and Harvey. We also got sheets to organize our notes on the assigned scripts.

The theatre has all but finalized a deal to lease a downtown space for the next five years. That gives the company some certainty of stage space and that opens up the potential repertoire. There are mitigating factors: two plays originally scheduled to run this season, Glass Menagerie and Witness for the Prosecution, were bumped. Their replacements were coincidentally the two shows I acted in. There are at least two actors who wanted the original shows to run, and they have enough clout to grumble and be unpleasant.

However, there's resistance to Menagerie from the committee; it's a long show, and it's a dim drama. When we did the show in Greenville, we managed to inject some humor to it, but that can't assuredly be repeated. There's a perception in the company and the audiences that straight drama is no fun and uninteresting. I obviously disagree, and I plan to advocate such plays. Not necessarily Menagerie, but shows that don't depend on pratfalls and simplistic music to sell tickets.

I recommended that we could have it both ways: if we held a teaser show made up of scenes from a few shows and used that to show off the new theatre space, we could placate the vocal divas and allow the theatre to flex the muscles of the acting pool. That seemed to be accepted well as an example of the kind of new tactics the theatre can try. I also think we should use the new library ampitheatre during street festivals to show non-theatre people what they could be seeing during production.

I don't know what the other committee people thought I could bring to the discussions, but I suspect they didn't think I'd be into marketing the company better. It's crucial. I stayed away because of the perception from the press releases and posters. The theatre has to aggressively present itself as an energetic company to woo actors and audiences. For instance, one play I read has virtually an all-female cast. That's a big selling point.

We considered why types of shows to try in the new season and the possibility of presenting more shows than normal and specifically more fan-favorite shows to help offset costs of the new space and necessary renovations. My concern for running more shows is the probable actor rotation. This group had three huge shows, one after another, last year, and that exhausted the actors.

The group -- us, I suppose -- has to pace shows and actor requirements, and that's going to disqualify good shows. For instance, Inherit the Wind is a great show and timely as ever, but it calls for 30 people. I don't think Asheville could offer a 30-person drama. Musical, yes; every stage parent will drag their kid to fill out a chorus, but dramas, as noted, unfortunately spook people on both sides of the stage. There's also the concern of which shows have been recently offered by other area theatres.

I was handed Wind and five other scripts to read before we meet in two weeks. It's daunting, but I think I can do that. I already know Wind and the Neil Simon (Come Blow Your Horn).

When I got home, I found that Your Sis had invited the school art teacher for dinner. It was a good evening. We talked school and art and the local college, and I got to show my painting to someone else.

Picture of the Day
Um, this doesn't help your argument, sir. Or ma'am.

UpDad

Dad has a big chemo session tomorrow (four hours+) and had a pre-chemo checkup today. He's gained six pounds since his nadir in April. Blood looks good, too. He has four small sessions left if his health holds up. and then he can consider going back to work.

I mowed the lawn last night to maintain the exercise from the week of garden preparation. No idea when we'll plant anything, but it has to be before May ends. Your Sis begins the research papers this week, and she's dreading it.

Picture of the Day
The painting in time-lapse form.

Mother's Day Weekend

I got home Friday and found the wood chipper and tiller, freshly delivered. It was such a nice evening that I was tempted to crank either one of them up, but hunger prevailed. We ate outside and considered heading to the forest for small-stand ice cream. My point is: The weather was excellent. Which is why the sudden hailstorm surprised us. It came in about 10:45 and tore up the neighborhood. I ran out to the back deck to cover the ferns and gasped when I felt the rain and chunks of ice. It passed quickly, but if we had planted anything in the garden beforehand, the temperature and pounding would have killed it.

We got up early Saturday to work on the yard, but only after I picked up the parents' éclairs from the bakery. The wood chipper is a noisy monster, and it worked great. The wood piles were gone in under two hours, and now we have piles of white mulch. I tilled the garden stretch later in the day, and the company should pick up the equipment Monday morning.

I worked on the painting Friday and Saturday and may be finished. I'm still not sold on the corners though.

Friday night (just before the thunder started)

+ + +

Saturday afternoon

If I do anything to the painting, it will only be the corners. The interior seems OK. Oh, I might add a neutral color to the sides of the painting.

I saw My Parents Sunday. Dad is virtually bald. He has little wisps of white hair, and Mom claims they're new. He doesn't look bad. He's back to his normal weight range, and he still smokes (and why not?). I may attend one of his chemos later this month. They loved the éclairs. I gave them the script from the last show and the playbill. I'll give them the DVD copy when they call the cable folks to hook up their DVD player.

Speaking of scripts, I finally got a call from the director, and the Script Committee is meeting tomorrow night to trade scripts and notes.

I may join the town 5k in two weeks. Depends on if the bizarre weather will let me run. We couldn't sleep last night because of the noise of trees in the wind.

Long Reading of the Day
Here's an elaborate theory about Lost. I can't buy into it because there's some vague spackling over crucial details. But it's a nice try.

Back to the Paint

We met at the local dessert bakery for the company's open house. This is the bakery that -- cruelly, brilliantly -- moved next door to the gym. It's previous location was bought out for a blockwide building that has yet to be built. A lot of businesses were displaced, and suspicions continue that the condos will be overpriced and the offices will sit empty. The bakery owners weren't thrilled, but this party was to mark their one-year anniversary in the new place. I put in an order for eight éclairs for My Parents. Mom always loved them, and Dad needs calories. I'm driving down to see them Sunday.

I painted for almost two hours before Lost last night. The notion about moving clockwise faded as my eye drifted right and up. I just followed the paint.


I'm getting closer to the finish. Maybe within three hours or so. I really need to redo the corners.

This is the red pepper in the top center of the painting. I love my red pepper. This is the most artistic part of the whole work. I'm going to stroll the Woolworth gallery in downtown during my lunch break today. Even though this painting isn't even finished, I'm thinking about setting up a booth to hawk my feeble wares. I intend to lowball my prices and skunk the overpriced crap they sell there.

The Weirdest Fucking Day

My car's CD player went haywire yesterday morning, and I blame the new REM CD. I suspect some anti-piracy software screwed up the player. I have a 25,000-mile tune-up coming up soon, and I'm hoping they can fix this. A quick Google search says that this particular error message means the CD player is d-e-d dead. I just called the dealership, and they said they'd have to order a new stereo. I'm within the warranty deadline; it should be free. Thankfully, I can just upload my CDs to the iPod and broadcast it through the radio, but this may very well have turned me off CDs entirely.

I still haven't used the free iTunes songs yet because I can't decide what songs to grab. The song from the latest iTunes ad is damn catchy though.

I found a link to an online archive of news footage from 9/11, and I watched the ABC feed. I didn't see any of the morning newscasts that day. We only had radio in the office, and I got most information online. I remembered calling my then-wife who callously dismissed my anxieties. She was blase about the day even when I camped in front of the TV for hours that night. She walked away three weeks later.

Just hours after the CD player died, I get an email from that very same ex-wife telling me she learned that a guy I've known since high school has cancer. I've since confirmed it. This is a one-two punch I never suspected.

I raked up the garden, and Your Sis rented a chipper and tiller for the weekend. I didn't paint. I was too sore and tired. Hopefully I can do some tonight after Lost.

Also, don't forget about Lost tonight.

Picture of the Day
That little smudge on Saturn there is a gigantic lightning storm.

I'm Going to Babble About Music

Trent Reznor announced last week that Nine Inch Nails had a new album to download for free at nin.com. This just a few months (if that) after the previous album was made available for download. I'm a NIN fan from way back; the first CD marked my freshman year of college. The first album can be downloaded a few ways, and I got the freebie chunk of songs; I downloaded the entire second album on Monday. The first album is now for sale as a CD in stores, and I bought that yesterday, along with the new REM who made it big when I was still in high school.

A distinction has to be made in REM's success; they were big with folks listening to something other than Top 40 radio before their major-label debut with Out of Time. That CD has Losing My Religion, and that made them household names. People loved them some mandolins. The new CD is really, really good. The band seems to have remembered they play guitars.

Nine Inch Nails had only a few really big songs, and the biggest song, Closer, is heavily edited for radio play. NIN is my angry band, my pouty and maudlin and surly music, and if you try to listen to them when you're in a good mood, the simplistic, mopey lyrics will crack you up. Still, when the mood is right, they're the go-to band. I was so eager to buy the above two CDs that I fogt to get the new Def Leppard.

I'll listen to the CDs while I paint; the music rarely makes any difference to what I'm working on. I've heard the Fight Cub commentaries and talk radio while working on this painting. The dark colors are just how my brushes roll, I suppose.

I added another level of brown through the canvas, touched up the lower left and spread to the lower right.

Honestly, it's coming along pretty well. I even see an indirect influence of Wayne Thiebaud. I've passed the hump of drudgery and now eagerly skitter off to the workshop to work with the paints.

I also ran into the mom of the kid who played the murderer in the last play. He's still interviewing to get into the state art school, but all signs point to a certain admission. Meanwhile, the gal who played the widow in the first local play pulled out of the school's Oklahoma! just over a week before they open. I hope she doesn't expect to do any more plays for that drama teacher.

When I got home, I attacked the garden. The blackberry bush also hosted a pernicious ivy vine, and the roots spread throughout the entire left side of the potential garden swath. I dug up the root clusters, and I think fatally damaged the main root strand. Tonight, I'll rake up the ivy and roots. The predicted rain this weekend might keep us from tilling and wood mulching.

Canvasing

An unexpected -- read: contrary to every weather report -- rain shower kept me from working in the yard, and I did what all manly men do instead: I painted.

This is the painting after I slapped down some simple brown patches for the meat. I was still trying to clean up my proportion in my internal struggle of abstracting the photo versus maintaining a semblance of realistic dimensions.



Then I focused on the bottom corner. I plan to work clockwise. I obviously need to vary my brown tones more. I tend to work dark, and I'm fighting that. Also, the paint seems thin and requires many coats.


The state's primary is today, and we got four campaign calls yesterday alone. We watched House last night, and Your Sis finally managed to skunk me in identifying a guest actor from a previous role. She totally identified the patient as the Samantha's model boyfriend from Sex and the City. She's frazzled from school, to the point that she's depriving herself of fun movie time. She's now downplaying her enthusiasm for Speed Racer, a film she's been dying for since last year.

Iron Horses Running in the Garden of Eden. And A Painting.

Saturday morning was spent weeding the garden. We put down tarps to burn away the overgrowth, but it didn't work. We created instead a greenhouse. A lush forest of weedy weeds. I ripped through them with the weedeater. I found a lot of vine root clusters, and I'll dig them out as soon as the dead weeds turn brown and thin. I'll clean up the garden enough for us to rent a tiller this weekend. We also need to rent a wood chipper for the winter branch debris and use that mulch throughout the yard.

Your Sis was too busy to watch Iron Man with me, which is a shame as I'm sure she'd love the gadgetry and improv-style dialogue. It's a great comic movie. In fact, it gets weak only when it becomes most like a comic: the big climactic fight. The rest, however, is chock full of nods to comic fans and the history of the characters. The post-credits extra scene made me gasp; it sets the stage for big things. No one is mailing it in here, and that energy makes for a fun two hours. The majority of audience members were older folks, and I spent part of the credits answering questions about the comic book.

We did watch the Kentucky Derby together and enjoyed it until the philly had to be killed. This is the second catastrophic horse injury during a Triple Crown race in a few years, and questions abound regarding breeding criteria. The horses are becoming fragile.

I ran Sunday at the school, chugging through three miles on the track. That's almost 2 5ks within four days. The knee held up, and this week's garden work will replace running.

I did a bit more on the painting. I'm making a four-square grid to somewhat match the photo, but I don't want to be too rigid. I don't want to replicate the picture.


I started reading the Bible again. My Parents gave us a copy for Christmas. I haven't read the thing since college. It sparked a long debate with Your Sis last night about the physics of the creation story: if God created light, that meant all was dark beforehand. But would that make The Void itself darkness or would "dark" only be defined by the creation of light?

Iron Man

So, yes, I ran when I got home. I made myself run for 30 minutes or until I finished a new circuit of the neighborhood. I was trying to run for time, but I finished the lap in 29 minutes. The Superman theme really helps me get up the hills. The knee was fine; in fact, it bothers me more when I walk in jeans than when I run in shorts. I got home, cleaned up, and met up with Your Sis and another couple for a long, long supper. We got home after Lost had started, and I watched the recording while Your Sis slept. She'll probably catch it tonight. I made myself stay up late so I would hopefully stop waking up at 4 a.m. I hung up a new blind in the workshop and plotted the next painting strategy.

Motion Picture of the Day



Iron Man is getting rave reviews, and I'll see it tomorrow morning, come hell or Hiawatha. It's not a property that immediately makes for a sure-fire film franchise. The hero is a drunk control freak, and he has a weak rogues gallery. In fact, his greatest enemies stemmed from the character's foundation as a 1960s creation. Iron Man fought commies. He road-to-Damascus moment was during the Korean War and not in whatever Middle Eastern country this film uses. His heyday was the early '80s as the Soviet Union still lurked over the horizon. Off the top of my head, I can remember five Soviet villains and two of them wore armor suits. He also fought a Chinese imperialist and literal corporate spies. In the days of Dallas and Top Gun, Tony Stark was comics' JR Ewing. He had the Tom Selleck mustache, the fast cars, the slinky gals, the armors (lots of variations), and he threw back cocktails in board meetings.

I'm keen on this film because the cast is impressive. Love Downey, love Bridges, love Howard and Paltrow. I'm surprised the director seems to have crafted a big moneymaker; Jon Favreau is best known as an indy guy. But, to be fair, so was Chris Nolan, the guy who made the latest Batman movies, and Sam Raimi, who made the Spider-Man films.

I'm also happy to see another Stan Lee/Jack Kirby creation get a shot at the big time.
Iron Man is of the same brood as Hulk, Fantastic Four, Spidey, X-Men, and dozens more. They had no idea what would work with the readers; they used every conceivable gimmick. Iron Man took, and he remains the most successful armored character in comics. The film essentially preserves the origin, complete with his retro-cool gray armor.

From what I hear, if you stick around after the credits, you'll see a big-name actor appearing as another comic character, the same character as which he also cameos in the upcoming Hulk movie.

UpDad

I did a little exercise when I got home. Esquire, the one with Jessica Simpson shaving on the cover, ran a 7-day tune-up schedule for men, including a series of exercises. They are deceptively simple. I find myself laughing at my exhaustion after 25 reps of a seemingly easy series. I did not get to paint, but I did stop by the downtown Asheville store for a tube of Nickel Oxide Brown, I think they called it. It's a yellow-brown.

Dad called after his chemo. His red blood cell count is down, and his heart is working too hard. They're giving him injections to help this. He's growing black hair again, but his legs are getting weak. When he's tired, it's hard to talk with him; I couldn't get in any questions to ask specifics as he was practically babbling from the drugs. I'll try to get more out of him this weekend.

The knee is settling down more each day, and I intend to run when I get home. I watched a recent Nova experiment where 12 sedentary people trained for the Boston Marathon. One had to pull out because of stress fractures, but the rest finished the race, averaging a little over four hours. There's a local race here at the end of May, and I'd like to take a crack at it, but I need to get back to 3 5ks a week beforehand.

Picture of the Day
Threepio is helpless against the forceball.

Bedsheets in the Garden

The wild swings in nighttime temperatures require us to cover up the budding flowers often during the week. The neighbors are doing it too, and the yards seem to be holding slumber parties.

I had the need to exercise and realized just as I pulled up to the house that the yard was a jungle. I mowed it without favoring the bad knee and have changed the diagnosis from Grody Joint Chasm to Mild Inconvenience. Gone are the gauze pads and palm-sized Band-Aids. I'm now wearing to layered regular Band-Aids. The limp is no more as well.

I painted very little. My Dad called, and we talked about his upcoming chemo today. I dabbed red paint where the red peppers should go on the canvas. Next, I'll dab on the yellow and then sketch up the other stir-fry ingredients.

We watched last night's American Idol. In case you're not watching, the show is down to five people:

Brooke -- the hippie sunshine girl
Syesha -- the brassy belter
David Archuletta -- the high-school kid who sings like a Disney character
David Cook -- the stadium-rocker
Jason -- the dreadlocked slacker

Cook is ready to tour right now. Syesha might rule Broadway. Everyone else is a waste, an embarrassment of minimum competence and oh-shucks desperation for votes. They sang Neil Diamond songs, and only Syesha and Cook can sing above a whisper. Your Sister is amazed that Simon and I say virtually the same things just minutes apart.

Picture of the Day
This barely made my high standards for picture posting.

Painting Myself into a Corner

I moved the easel into the workshop, between the drawing table and the door. I put in the Fight Club DVD and listened to the commentary and painted for about half an hour. I still agree that Fight Club is my generation's The Graduate; however, I wonder if it's too much of a guy movie. It makes fun of male-esteem movements, but wallows in that philosophy so much that it is mistakenly seen as a true male-esteem platform. What did you think of it?

Again, I'm working on the corners, and I feared I had overdone it, but looking at the photo at this size, the corners look OK. Not perfect, but not bad. I will definitely work on the interior next time.

My knee is still aching, and I'll have to see a doctor if it doesn't start scarring soon. I think I'm developing an adverse reaction to so much Neosporin. I forced my knee to bend to keep the joint from stiffening.

This morning, I dropped by the college art building to see the senior exhibit and check the classrooms. I saw the photo teacher in passing and then I drove into work. I'm listening to the president's press conference and his answer to the economy is to drill in ANWAR. I don't know how anyone can be sure how much oil is there when it hasn't been drilled. And I don't know why he thinks anyone will believe his assertions after the WMD fiasco.

500 Posts

Wow. That's a lot of blabbing.

I'm starting the painting this weekend based on this photo.

With Your Sister out of town, I'm set up the easel in the kitchen and watched the NFL draft as I began the canvas. I had no idea how to start this as the detail is beyond my interest. I finally decided to simply slap down colors to build the approximate hues in swaths close to that of the items. It'll be very abstract. maybe. I'm winging it. My first passes on the canvas were horrible; my painting muscles were worthless.

Here it is now.

I have a ways to go.

Weirdest thing happened before I started painting. I drove out for dinner and decided on a burrito place I never go to. Walk in the door, and there is my painting teacher from college. Right before my first painting in ten years. I talked to her and her husband -- the photography teacher -- and they asked if I'd perhaps talk to their students. Odd odd odd.

I also listened to the Superman commentary, and it reminded me just how very much I adore that film. Pitch-perfect in every way. The effects hold up, the tone holds up, the jokes still work. It's a timeless film, really. Gene Hackman just nails the role of Lex. He's hitting home runs in every scene.

When she came back home, we searched for lasagna and settled for pizza instead. I ignored the painting on Sunday to let it settled down, and I might try it again tonight before wrestling and pizza. Or we might forgo wrestling and watch a new House instead. Yes. Yes, I think that's what we'll do.

In the Local News
We're bombarded by campaign ads and robo-calls for the May 6 primary. We even got a live call from a local Obama supporter. I intend to vote next Tuesday, but I'm still undecided who gets my vote. I have arguments for and against both of them.

Mix CD

I handed over a new mix CD for Your Sister. I listen to a regular podcast called Coverville dedicated to playing covers or originals of songs many don't realize are covers. It's hit and miss, and the host tends to get into ruts; how many covers for Umbrella, Crazy, Hey Yeah or Hallelujah can one hear? The variety of the podcast makes it consistently interesting as familiar songs swoop through bluegrass or ska translations. I've listened to it for a few years now and kept the best episodes to hear particular songs. But thanks to the free Audacity software, I can clip those songs and ditch the rest of the file. This is what I did for her, making an anthology of the most effecting covers.

1. Hot Rod Lincoln Bill Kirchen
I don't know the original, but this cover distinguishes itself when the band imitates dozens of other musicians halfway through.

2. Changed the Locks Tom Petty
Originally by Lucinda Williams

3. Don't Stop Believing Petra Hayden
A one-woman a cappella cover.

4. Girls Just Want To Have Fun Greg Lazwell
A very slow cover using only the piano.

5. Creep Clockwork
A capella. Radiohead's Creep may be the best song of the '90s, the immediate descendant of the Police's Every Breath You Take. The simple chord structure helps it move to other genres smoothly.

6. Better Be Home Soon Casey Chambers
Originally by Crowded House

7. Something About You Anthony David
The original, by Level 42, is one of the best '80s songs. It never lost its luster.

8. 3 is the Magic Number Jellydots
Originally from Schoolhouse Rock. I didn't get to see the ACT production.

9. Somewhere Over The Rainbow Israel Kamakawiwo'ole
This is the Hawaiian version, the one sung note-for-note recently on American Idol. I first heard it in Season One of Lost, back when each episode ended with a musical montage.

10. Short People King Singers
This is Randy Newman's infamous song, done a cappella.

11. Hope That I Don't Fall In Love Amiliana Tourini
Originally by Tom Waits.

12. Hey, Jude Wilson Pickett
Originally the the Rolling Stones. No, Sex Pistols.

13. Mama Told Me Not to Come Randy Newman
This is actually the original. Three Dog Night covered it and made it famous.

14. The Gambler Johnny Cash
Originally by Kenny Rogers.

15. Take On Me Sarah Bareilles
Originally by A-Ha. She's the women whose Not Gonna Write You A Love Song is everywhere now.

16. Common People Joe Jackson and William Shatner
Originally by Pulp. Shatner speaks his lyrics, and the production is stellar.

I'm gauzed up, and the wound continues to seep.

Lost comes back tonight at 10 p.m.

Picture of the Day
A scarf that looks like bacon.

The Story of My First Running Accident

Well, now I know that I have declared war against someone who employs voodoo.

I decided to run a different route yesterday and turned onto a road that sprouted off into gravel. A car was headed in my direction and stopped suddenly when the driver saw the gravel. Tuesday was a weird day for drivers as I had close shaves in both commutes, and I was sure he'd back into me. I kept my eye on him but didn't stop running, and I stumbled in a pothole. Down goes Frazier.

I scraped my knee, and it wouldn't have been so gruesome had I not banged up my knees with bike wrecks when I was younger. I have thin scar tissue, and it went away easily. I was half a mile from home, and there wasn't much pain; I decided to run as much as I could. It turned out to be a bad running day. I had breathing trouble, and a bug flew into my eye. But I jogged for close to 20 minutes. My knee was a horror movie by the time I got home to clean it up, and I hope I increased my street cred by running with this caked mess on my leg.

It's not so sore this morning. I'm bandaged and limping slightly. This is nothing compared to those crashes of yore such as when the bike rusted apart into two pieces, and I belly flopped on the road. That required the good people of the emergency room.

Dad called. He had another chemo yesterday. His blood work is fine, and he's gained four pounds in two weeks. He aims for 1,000 calories a meal. He's halfway through his chemo and plans to go back to work in June.

Picture of the Day
I'm in a Hanks mood lately. I watched Cast Away twice recently and picked up a free copy of Philadelphia when I bought the Cloverfield DVD.

The Story of My First Comic Book

So, you can say you ran in the Boston marathon. And I, the itinerant jogger, can only claim measly local 5ks.

Fine. I see how it is.

THIS MEANS WAR.

I'll go to Chicago or New York and sneak into their marathons too. Or I'll run in drag in the women's Olympic race this summer.

I'll show you all.

Your Mom, you should know, is tickled that her daughter and son-in-law are doing any kind of running.

During a downtown stroll this weekend, we ducked into the local antique store. They sell old magazines and whatever comics someone has brought in. While the comics are usually piddling, they all sit on an old-fashioned spinner rack -- the kind that used to stand in grocery and drug stores -- and I would kill to have one. The store won't sell theirs though (I've asked), and it taunts me whenever I walk by the front windows of the store.

I checked the rack this weekend, and someone had brought in their load of 1970s horror comics: Godzilla, Man-Thing, Tomb of Dracula, and assorted others. I didn't really care for them, but I will keep my eyes open for work by particular artists. When Marvel started their horror comics, they were handing them to whoever could slap together a script and dribble ink on an artboard. I never heard of some of these folks, and the comics didn't crank my engine.

However, I did find something I never, ever thought I'd find. It was so random and weird that I had not once considered I'd ever find it. I've scoured back-issue bins for decades, looking for bargains and specific titles to complete my collection. But I never looked for this issue, and here it was, in my hands just after I had eaten lunch and shopped for shoes for Your Sister. It's a copy of the oldest comic I remember owning. As far as my brain is concerned, it's my first comic book.



The copy I had was so beaten up that I don't ever recall seeing the cover. It was gone. The pages were battered from being shoved and piled in a cardboard box from the grocery store. My grandparents used to babysit me while my parents were at work, and I kept a pile of comics at their place instead of schlepping comics back and forth. This comic was one of those. I don't think I have that original copy anymore. I hadn't thought of it for at least 15 years.

I, of course, bought this new one, and I read it that night as Your Sis cracked open a Wonder Woman. It's bizarre. In this 1975 comic, a pan-dimensional demon tries to invade our world but is denied by a centuries-old Scarecrow who lives in a painting. The Scarecrow leaps from the painting to fight demons (who just happen to stroll by the framed art), and his presumably straw-packed gloves dispense justice with fisticuffs. There's also a giant mutant fish and a fight in a lab. I'm not sure the artist and writer spoke the same language, and I'm convinced drugs were imbibed before and during this comic's production. It's pretty damn crappy. It's a bad comic. It's a dopey premise. We can't tell if the title character is a good guy or not. The magic has no rules.

I had to be three when I first got this comic, and I probably asked for it because there's a scarecrow on the cover. He was my favorite character from The Wizard of Oz. This comic, you may have guessed, has nothing to do with the Emerald City or Ray Bolger. And I think the comic scared me as a kid because it was so weird and unexpected. If I had read it now for the first time, I would have disregarded it. It has no value except sentiment. But it was my first, and now I have a decent copy of it.

You may also have heard that the three presidential candidates taped messages to appear on the WWE show last night. Obama may have won me over by cribbing The Rock's catchphrase: "If you smell what Barack is cooking."

Blogroll

Having throughly gotten the bug, Your Sister asked me for any Wonder Woman comics I may have. Out from the workroom sprang all the comics from the various volumes, and they pile about eight inches high. I suggested she skip through them if her eyes begin to glaze over.

We took Your Mom out for lunch Friday for her birthday, and, after work, the two of us hit the mall where I finally bought myself a pair of Chuck Taylors. I've always wanted a pair, but my flat feet kept me away for fear of hurting the arches. However, I've run in a variety of shoes for the last few years, and my arches are no worse. So now I am rocking the Chucks -- black with white trim. Combine this with the temperature-appropriate jean jacket, and I appear to have tumbled out of an '80s comedy.

This weekend, we watched Unforgiven and No Country for Old Men, making for a violent and dour movie experience. But they're very good films.

On Sunday, I weeded the yard by hand. I also attacked the ground ivy where the blackberry bush used to be. I was desperate for physical activity but wasn't eating right to take a decent run. I bought a running magazine to help me get back into that.

I went back to the dentist today to finish the cleaning, and they didn't take any teeth, to my relief. I don't go back until January for a regular cleaning. And now you know.

Picture of the Day
DJ German Dog

Geeks of a Feather

I made fajitas last night and proved to myself that I could eat without sloughing my teeth. So that was nice.

Your Sister has been a comic-reading fiend this week, gobbling up the recent Wonder Woman issues and the volumes of a metacommentary on superheroines called Empowered. That makes it sound more boring than it is. Anyway, I'm shocked she's getting into the books, but shocked in a pleasant way that reminds me that I married one nifty tamale. She's joining me in Asheville Friday to visit with Your Mom before Sunday's birthday.

Raging Geek Blasphemy of the Day
A movie based on the 1980s GI Joe toys and comics is in the works, and the first photo of Scarlett has been released. She was the lone female action figure when the Joe franchise went to teh same size as the Star Wars figures, just under four inches. Before that, the Joes were 12-inches tall and all man, baby.

This is the current version of her toy:
It's very similar to the original version, except now she has a sidearm. Scarlett was cool for us kids. Her biography on the back of the package noted her martial arts training and proficiency with weapons. She was no damsel in distress. She was sneaky and dangerous. Hence: cool. And the outfit, while making not a lick of sense, made her stand out from the drab-green uniforms of the guys. It also highlighted that she was fit rather than obligatory cheesecake. She was another descendant of Princess Leia; she could gab, she could fight, and she didn't cry. Like Wilma Dearing from Buck Rogers.

Here's the movie photo:

Sure, yes, OK. It makes sense for a sneaky military gal to wear an outfit that lets her actually sneak. But, and I can't mention this without sounding like a total nerd, the costume change just ain't kosher. They gave her Batman's outfit without the cape. I think she's holding a crossbow. All that black makes it hard to tell. As long as she's not the wilting hostage, I'll be OK with this. Really.

Clearly, I have nothing of substance to say.

Oh, wait. We did see some of the Clinton/Obama debate last night, and both candidates had good moments. The race seems to be so close because these are really good speakers who can toss out details for their policies. Still, McCain is toast when it comes to a one-on-one debate with the Democrats. North Carolina's primary is in three weeks.

Mumbles of Vengeance

I saw the Mario theme video on Attack of the Show, GTV's daily geek-culture show. Your Sister is a fan of it too, although she doesn't know most of what they're talking about. TiFaux is great for this; I can pause the show and explain the references, like in a DVD commentary.

She made a dental appointment for me for this morning, and, well, let's just say it's been a while since I've willingly draped myself on their chair. OK, yes, I went for my wisdom teeth extraction when they, to use their sophisticated lingo, "bombed out." But I hadn't been for a normal dental visit in ages. And while I can blame my last dentist -- incompetent and stupid and now a felon -- my own laziness and silly anxiety kept me away. They scraped and wedged and advised to do more at home.

I survived and I have all my teeth, and now I'm afraid to eat anything. I may have to Starbucks my belly into silence.

Picture of the Day
If I have any more tooth trouble, I'll just have him knock them out.

Congratulations

A few weeks back, I found a satchel in the library parking deck. The ever-paranoid fret voice warned me against even touching it lest it go kablooey, but I gave a cursory check and could find nothing immediately identifying the owner. I threw it in my car and took it home to dig through more throughly. I found a car title transfer form with a name and address, but the phone company didn't have a line there.

I let the bag sit for a week before digging through it again. Inside, I found a jumpdrive and a marriage license and eventually discovered a business card with a phone number and the name on the title form. I called him up. We rendezvoused Monday morning at an Asheville coffeehouse (The Dripolator, and what an appetizing name that is). He showed up, thanked me, and took his bag out the door. The bag contents suggested he lived at loose ends, and his appearance didn't alter that notion. On the phone, he said he'd wear a certain hat so I could find him. When he showed up, nope, no hat. Genius. I finished my hot coffee and read the Mountain Xpress before heading to work.

For the second year in a row, Your Sister's Spring Break starts with a snowfall.

I hope your hangover is tinged with joy.

Picture of the Day
Professor Akito Marada and his failed prototype sexbot cheer you from afar.

Bachelorhood and the Page

Longtime Reader writes:

glad to hear your dad thinks this round of chemo will go better. glad, too, to hear that you'll play a role in show selection. did the director admit that he was testing you? did he use those exact words? how did the double date go, other than that?

Not in those words, no. But he did say he considered me for the committee because of comments I had made about the script during the rehearsals and cemented his notion when I told him at the party that I had concerns about "the plot, not the production" regarding the script he handed me. It's still possible he thought I could play the Young Killer, but, more directly, he wanted to know if Ic ould quickly read and comment on a potential play for the company.

The double date was fine. We sat down for dinner at a local eatery at 7 and closed the place down. we were the last customers, and we talked plays, marriages, jobs, and travels abroad (I, the simple boy, had the least of them.) We'd get together with them again at teh drop of a hat.

Since that Thursday, I've read three of the scripts he handed me:

1. The Nerd: A party-crasher spills havoc on a man obliged to board him indefinitely. It's an early '80s comedy that, like a lot of plays considered by community theatres, uses just one set. It's got a hectic first act, and while reading I found a Post-it from a previous prop mistress who was reeling from the near-hundred of items required. The play drops in quality in Act Two, and the script calls for a big role by a small child.

This play includes a scene that was my very first assigned material in my high-school drama class. We four actors who learned this scene and competed with it at regional theatre conventions didn't read anything beyond the ten pages we were given. This was my first chance to find out how our characters got to this bit of hijinks. It's a great scene for high-schoolers, but I don't know how it will play for the blue-hairs. It's also a character list that will skew young and could be a good way to woo new actors.

2. Night Watch: A woman thinks she sees a murder and spirals into anxiety and paranoia. This would make an excellent radio drama. It reminds me of Sorry, Wrong Number, which my seventh grade class performed and recorded as a group project. It calls for an older cast, uses one set, and has few props.

3. Mousetrap: Strangers are trapped in a snowbound boarding house while a killer is at large. This is the classic Agatha Christie -- the longest-running play in the history of history: 23,000 shows since it opened in 1952. The original production virtually never ended. It's a fantastic script, and it's the clear winner of the bunch so far. The plot is airtight, and it ends well. Only incompetence and unprofessional behavior could sink this production.

I didn't realize Bailey's baptism was this weekend when I agreed to make the comic page. I stayed home, and Your Sis drove down for a along weekend with Your Brother and Andrea. It gave me free rein to bury my head in the page, but I felt bad for not going. Weeks ago, I assured her I would go.

Here it is in stages:
The money shot is the entrance of Grunge Hobo, who is determined to kill Kid janitor (I didn't cook up the names or the plot, I just nudged it forward). I had to make Grunge Hobo resemble the first appearance of the character

Picture

Final Page Art

The Whole Penciled Page

The Whole Inked Page

The Page With Text

I worked on this for about five hours on Saturday and a few more on Sunday. I listened to movie commentaries and NPR. I could have spent more time on the inks (pens, not brushes), but I was worried about coloring the page and applying text after, so I rushed it. It's not bad, I s'pose.

The rest of the weekend was exercise and movies. I watched the Twin Peaks movie and Unforgiven. When I wasn't reading scripts, of course.