Small Stuff

My theatre contact, um, contacted me about supplies for the audition this weekend. He'll make xeroes of the script and binders to hold them. I'll reread the play during the week and pick the best pages for the auditions.

Your Sis is doing much better, and she seemed almost eager to go back to school this week.

I'm feeling very lazy about doing no work in the garden, but we have to schedule a tiller rental before we can do anything else. Your Sis suggested we pay to join a community farm project. For $350, a family can get weeks of veggies from a local farm. I suggested we talk to another couple and split the cost and the food. She asked. They responded by starting their own garden, and I agree with that. Let's grow our own too.

Sketch of the Day
I'm back to drawing from photos to exercise the drawing muscles. BlogSpot loads images to similar sizes, leaving it up to me to tell you that the drawing is almost twice the size of the picture. This is working; when I sketch from imagination afterward, the art is much stronger.

Cooking With Villainy: Faji-tortill-orittos

The global economic crunch has hit even the Glorious Kingdom of Latveria. The peasants can no longer bequeath Doom with the tribute to which Doom has become accustomed, and they look, as always, to their beloved leader for guidance in this time of gloom. Doom takes to his resplendent balcony, beholds the gathered, desperate masses below Doom, and utters the wisdom upon which they may rest their beleaguered brows:

IT'S RICHARDS'S FAULT!

Doom told you! Doom tried to warn you! Richards Richards Richards! He has done this to you! He mocks you from the penthouse bath tub in which he soaks his boneless ass with his harlot of a wife!

This only fuels Doom's quest for vengeance! For justice! Doom is handing out Richards fatwas like they're going out of style! Doom shall destroy him in your name, my filthy troglodytes! DOOM SWEARS MAD RUCKUS IN YOUR NAMES!

But until then, Doom knows you must feed the dog, and thus, Doom cracks open once more his Divine Recipe Rolodex and bestows upon you a morsel that will warm your bellies: Doom's Famous Faji-tortill-orittos!

Gather these, mongrels:
1 pound of protein vehicle
1 red bell pepper
1 yellow bell pepper
1 medium onion
six tortillas
cayenne pepper
crushed red pepper
chili powder
garlic powder
salt
pepper
shredded cheese

Doom commands you to dice the onion and cut the peppers into thin strips. Cut the protein vehicle into strips.

Doom commands you to cook the protein vehicle in a medium-hot skillet.

Doom commands you to begin heating the tortillas in another skillet. Heat the skillet to medium, heat one side of the tortilla, flip to warm the other side. Place tortillas on a plate and cover while you warm the others.

While doing this, Doom commands you to transfer the meat to a holding vessel. Add pepper and salt to the meat. Place peppers and onions in the skillet on medium heat. Add dashes of the spices.

Doom commands you to add the meat back to the skillet once the medley has warmed. Stir often and cook until the medley has softened and the onions are golden brown.

Doom allows you to add salsa to the filled tortilla shells on top of the shredded cheese. Doom appreciates lime-flavored chips as a side item. Doom will never admit to licking the lime-dusted fingertips of his luxurious armor.

Doom commands you to wolf it down, curs. The above recipe will feed two.

+ + +

Friday night: Dinner with teacher people.

Saturday: mowing and a teacher birthday party. I got home right before 3 a.m. in my pathetic attempt to remain youthful.

Sunday: Ran 3 miles and gobbled caffeine to stay awake. Woke up in the middle of the night thanks to a thunderstorm.

Picture of the Day
Whee.

New Music and Directing

Whilst strolling the new Barnes & Noble, I spied a CD by Toubab Krewe. It's a live CD from the Orange Peel, no less. I checked the recording date, and it's the concert we saw on New Year's Eve 2007. We're on an album. It was apparently released this January. Amazon and iTunes have it for $10. I snagged a copy tout suite.


I also bought Troubadour by K'Naan, a Somali rapper. He mixes the reggae influence of Wyclef Jean with the social commentary of Nas and the nasal delivery of Li'l Wayne, and this is a flat-out party album. Guests include the lead singer of Maroon5 (whose '80s inspirations dominate his song's chorus), Kirk Hammet of Metallica (whose guitar playing desrves a solo project), and Mos Def, the king of cool. Mos also played the locked-in patient on House a few weeks back.

The best songs to download are TIA, America, Bang Bang She Shot Me, and Stronger. But the whole CD is strong.



My theatre liaison said the last reading-theatre play rehearsed about four times. That feels insufficient for a comedy when timing and delivery are key. I'll increase that with my show.

"My show." Hm.

The auditions will be 2-4 pm next Saturday and Sunday.

This is the official press release as polished by the liaison:

BLT TO HOLD AUDITIONS FOR READER’S THEATER PREMIERE Brevard Little Theatre will be holding Reader’s Theatre auditions for a World Premiere of a one act play titled, “Mama’s Almost Birthday”, by XXXX XXXXXXXX, winner of BLT’s 2008 One Act Play Writing Competition.

Ms. XXXXXXX has created a delightful story that has the spirit of a classic sitcom with banter and one-liners galore. Two adult daughters, Isabelle and Rochelle, are preparing a small house party for the mother, Vera, recently injured after angrily chasing the paperboy. Isabella also invites her boyfriend Lenny, who changes the dynamics of the family’s relationship.

The play will be presented in a reader’s theatre format with actors working from scripts inside a suggested set. Director [me] will be holding auditions on Saturday, April 25th, and again on Sunday, April 26th from 2:00 to 4:00 p.m. at Brevard Little Theatre’s new home at the American Legion Hall, 55 East Jordan Street, Brevard. [I] will be casting for the following roles: Isabelle and Rochelle, (ages 30 to 40), Vera, (age 50 to 70) and Lenny, (age 30 to 40).

The one-act play will be presented as part of BLT’s Play Writing Competition Winners Luncheon on May 29th in Miller’s Hall at St. Phillips Episcopal Church. Here is a wonderful opportunity to be part of another Brevard Little Theatre World Premiere, so mark your calendar now for one or more of these auditions!

For additional information concerning this one act play or the auditions, please feel free to contact the director [me] or visit the BLT website at: www.brevardlittletheatre.com

That's right. We don't know who wrote this play. We're hoping to find out before we send the article to the paper.

Directing Progress

I haven't had any contact with the theatre people since I agreed to direct. Mostly, I didn't want to interfere with the casting of the three-act play. Casting has become tricky lately (too many plays + too little time = burnout), and I laid low.

During my meager isolation, I made script notes. I listed how we could work some "scenes" -- there is no formal scene delineation -- and played with character angles. We have four characters: an older mom, two adult daughters, and one sister's suitor.

The script clearly wants the mom to be Sophia from Golden Girls. She's scrappy and brusque and stubborn. The sisters are standard sitcom siblings. One's dependable, the other's a floosie. I really like the suitor because there's room in the script to play him as dry humored and above the fray. He's slightly mocking the goings-on, and no one really gets it. If anyone winks at the audience, it's him.

My notes aren't detailed, because the actors should get a chance to play too. I talked to my liaison yesterday and set up audition times for next weekend. I'm also writing the press release for the local paper and desperately trying to avoid the usual adjectives like "wacky" and "uproarious." I'm also including a snippet of dialogue, something the theater's never done before to suggest the style of the show. I think this can helps us get more actors to audition. Hopefully the article will run twice next week.

My name is in the article as the official contact, and I wonder if this will affect turnout.

I had my first directing dream last night. I was teaching my first day of school. But it was really about directing.

The floor is done. The renovation company backed out of replacing the drywall this week, and we won't be home during the week again until the summer. So the money will go to folks who want our money and will work weekends.

Picture of the Day
New flooring. The larger tile pattern makes the room look bigger. It only took 18 hours for the cats to throw up on it.

Still Renovating

As I type, our old laundry floor is being removed and replaced with new vinyl. The floor crew will also replace the wood cut out when the heater leaked. Hopefully, the drywall crew will return tomorrow and fix the storage room wall.

I am officially coming down with the wife sickness. I tried to run it our of my system yesterday, but I was already weakened. It was a slow, grueling jog. We remain in separate beds.

I'm preparing the newspaper article to announce the auditions for the play I'm directing. I hope to hold them next weekend. I haven't heard what kind of turnout the other play got for its auditions last weekend. I've made notes throughout my script for certain emotional notes to hit and some delivery suggestions, but I don't want to give the actors detailed instructions for that. I wouldn't swallow that if a director gave it to me.

Picture of the Day
Out with the old floor. The room used to double as a bathroom. We keep the old toilet in my workshed, and I use it as a trashcan.

Renovations

The restoration company is backing off its original assurances of repair. Now they say they won't do the flooring. Fine. As Your Sister noted, there are plenty of people who will gladly earn that repair money. Sounds also like they're dragging their feet on the drywall repair, and I suspect this isn't a big enough job to satisfy them. Which means they could knock it all out in a few days and enjoy that insurance money. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised by the attitude; they did blame the excess water on vent condensation and completely miss the open, spurting heater pipes.

+ + +

Dr. Laura, the conservative fundamentalist who makes her living scolding women for seeking equality, quietly deviated from her usual screed about our culture by approving same-sex couples. Not marriages, technically, no. But still, this is a huge swing for a person who made her bones defending America from the scourge of homosexuality. From her April 8 appearance on Larry King's show:

KING: This week, the Washington City Council voted to recognize same-sex marriages performed in other states. And the Vermont legislature voted to override a gubernatorial veto of a bill legalizing same sex. Do you think this — now we have four states, about to be five states.

SCHLESSINGER: Well, it’s issues of — sometimes it’s done by courts, sometimes it’s done by legislatures.

KING: Basically, five states now say you can have it. What do you think of that? What are you laughing at?

SCHLESSINGER: Well, I don’t have much of an opinion on it.

KING: You have no opinion on it?

SCHLESSINGER: Not much, no.

KING: But you’ve always favored that marriage must be between a man and woman.

SCHLESSINGER: I’m very big on human beings finding love, attachment and commitment and being faithful to it, because there’s more to benefit when there is real true commitment and faithfulness to it. I still believe, as just every president has, and all the people who ran for office, that marriage is a sacrament between a man and a woman. So not calling it marriage works for me. But that two people would have that sort of commitment to me is very healthy and very positive thing in their lives and society as a whole.

KING: So, you favor marriage between a man and a woman, but you applaud the fact that even people of the same-sex can have that kind of commitment to each other.

SCHLESSINGER: That’s a beautiful thing and a healthy thing.

KING: We’ll be back with more of Dr. Laura Schlessinger.

She was on the show promoting her book In Praise of Stay-At-Home Moms which, no doubt, belittles women who like to see the sun and earn folding money. I have considered her the national whipping post for years. People call her to spell out their outrageous scenarios and ask for advice, usually in the form of "should I do this-and-that." And Dr. Laura (who does not have a doctorate in any form of therapy or counseling) will tell them they are bad bad bad and are dragging down the country.

Picture of the Day
A city at night, but I don't know which one. At that size, it has to be New York, right?

The 700 Club

Blogspot says this is my 700th post. Lots of yappity.

We got home right before 4 and ran right back out to get groceries. The renovating company is supposed to come back to the house today to tidy up the mess they caused when the water heater died. We did all our laundry last night just in case the machines are out of commission until they finish.

I am beat up from the drive, and I wonder if the Sunday morning run was a bad idea. We wolfed down a big supper, capped off by a red velvet cake Your Sis grabbed as we left the store. I mean, we didn't eat the whole thing. We're not total savages.

She's again in the sick bed, and her coughing sounds horrible.

Picture of the Day
I did not make this.

I Seek Advice.

The student and her mom were brought into an afterschool meeting with the teacher and an administrator. The latter took the lead in the meeting and unveiled everything to the mom and student. The student claimed it was a joke by the paper author. She was told she would have to start a new research paper on a totally different topic than what was approved earlier this semester. As she agreed to do so, she proclaimed it was totally unfair. I'm not sure why she's getting a second chance to turn in a paper for credit.

+ + +

Today's dilemma: I got a debt-collection note for my ex-wife. They found my address in hopes to find her. We've both here taken calls asking for her, and we've assured them she never lived here. Your Sis got rather salty, I understand. The ex owes $900 for an HSBC/Household credit card balance. I just Googled HSBC, and it looks like a card for people with horrible credit. Which I imagine she is. Her previous schmos took out cards in her name and maxed them out, so this might be the only card she can get. And now she owes almost a thousand on it.

Confession: I'm enjoying this more than I should. A few months after our divorce, she called to aska bout a huge balance on her credit report. She thought it might have been from a card I used during our marriage. I knew it wasn't; the balance was too much, and the card number was all wrong. I verified it wasn't a card I/we had ever used. As noted, she did have guys prior to me that fucked with her mail and money for their drug habits. And I -- the one guy who didn't abuse her -- was the one she ultimately left. So, yes, I'm enjoying this.

Question: Do I email her and tell her the debt hounds are after her? She did email me last year to let me know about Jared. She didn't have to. But is it really a kindness to reveal the efforts of debt collectors? They followed the bread crumbs to me becuase she's apparently ducking her obligation. Is it a kindness to sit on the news? I'm all conflicted.

+ + +

Seriously, call Your Sis to find out what we're doing this weekend. I still don't know if we're leaving town.

+ + +

I can now run two miles at a full gallop. I was exhausted, but I finished the mostly uphill run in just under 19 minutes.

Picture of the Day
This is a superior pet.

A Big Big Mistake

This actually happened Monday:

A student took her jump drive to her English teacher (just a door down from Your Sis). She was supposed to turn in her research paper rough draft last week. She said she couldn't get it to print. She handed the jump drive to the teacher and asked if he would accept the paper like this and if he would print it from the drive. After school, he plugged in the drive and found the paper file.

The first page, in giant bold letters read this: [Name of Girl] Is Sleeping With Me So I'll Write Her Paper. The paper was a loose collection of sources and facts with instructions for her to clean them up before printing and handing it into her teacher. The last instruction was a clear reminder to delete the author's note about the sex. She apparently never opened the file, didn't try to print it, and gave it to the teacher straight away.

Foops.

The paper writer is a dropout from two years ago. The student is the daughter of a former school employee. There just happened to be a teacher meeting scheduled for Tuesday on paper plagiarism, and it was discussed. My understanding is that the parent and student will be told of the paper at the same time at an afterschool meeting.

It snowed ALL DAY Tuesday. Blowing, blinding blizzards of white soap flakes.

And now, ten Star Wars characters with expanded histories outside the films.

Your Sis is worried about this weekend. She's afraid her cold my waylay her into staying here. You should call and guilt her into making the trip.

Picture of the Day
There's having an idea for a costume and having an idea BE your costume.

Suddenly Snow

And just like that, our 70-degree days are a hazy memory, like a Tennessee Williams nostalgic monologue about mint juleps and weeping willows. Your Sister's school had none of this blizzard when I left town, but it was a steady, icy downpour the rest of the way into work, and now I can't see across the street from my tony office window. When the wind throws the gunk against our building, it appears to be snowing up. Upward? I'll say "up."

Your Sis is back in the sick bed, but she ought to be OK for the weekend.

I watched the game last night on and off, and Ellington has a fantastic shooting form. He launches the ball at the absolute height of the jump.

There's an anthology convention article here.

Picture of the Day
It's almost in no way kinda like this at all.

Utter Debauchery

A last-minute teacher get-together happened Friday. Mexican food was gobbled. Your Sis called it a night early while I drove a house of teachers and hung out until 2 a.m. Much lemonade and popcorn was devoured.

On Saturday, the school held the first of what I hope will be a regular series of fundraising dodgeball games. It was frenetic joy. So many teams of six players each signed up that brackets were constructed to handle them all. I only saw an hour of it before driving to Asheville to watch the season opener of roller derby. Unlike the version from the '70s heyday, this seemed legit. The Blue Ridge Rollergirls -- and attention must be paid to Your Sister's suggestion of the Black-and-Blue Ridge Rollergirls -- fought the Savannah Derby Devils. A track was taped to the concrete where the ice rink usually sits, and the women rolled counter clockwise.

In roller derby, the team's jammer tries to make laps by successfully navigating the field of jostling defenders in front of her. The more complete laps, the more points. The Asheville jammer is a dynamo named Jane Gretzky who was operating on a whole 'nother level. She was LeBron. She was Kobe. She was Ric Flair. We were gobsmacked. She was much smaller than the same team's Rigor Morticia (announced as "standing at six feet under"), and she could sneak through the packs. There were three of us watching together, all former ECU folks, and we had a ball. A quick appetizer at Barley's ended the night.

On Sunday, I was a little beat up from stadium seating and the previous afternoon's first mowing of the year. I put my lawnmower back together, and it cranked up the first time to my surprise. Grass was cut with malice and cruelty. On Sunday, to counter what was becoming a weekend of horrible diet and geeky sloth, I decided to run a full 5k course. It was earlier in the day than I usually run, and I met wind and sun. It hurt. I measured the course this morning on my commute, and it was almost 4 full miles. Today, I am sore in every place.

There's a local farm co-op that's offering produce to folks who buy a plot of farmland. The plants are harvested and delivered to town locations for weekly pick-up. We're considering it. I'll still work my garden, of course. Your Sis wants to put in potatoes very soon.

I've heard nothing so far about this past weekend's comic show and our anthology book.

Picture of the Day
Akimbo, the website and blog for International Women’s Health Coalition had this note on Friday:

One of IWHC’s Brazilian partners sent us this picture - apparently they’re selling like hot cakes in France as a means of protesting the Pope’s recent declarations against the effectiveness of condoms.

Those are large packages. I assume they are female condoms. Unless French men also have large packages.

Cooking with Villainy 5

Doom at times hankers for comfort food, sustenance which soothes Doom's troubled brow (upon which genius rests) and transports Doom to the glorious chamber of sleep. It is at these times Doom summons the Comfort Cookbook, the culinary grimoire within which one finds the greatest collection of recipes dating back to the ur-chefs of the first human tribes whose evolution has resulted in Doom, the apex of human development. Of course. OF COURSE.

This night, Doom seeks the succor of sweet potatoes but wishes to be unencumbered by the fattiness of butter and the heft of brown sugar, the common complements of the sweet potato. It is here in the Comfort Cookbook that Doom unveils the one answer that Doom requires: Zesty Italian Sweet Potatoes and Chicken.

As ever, Doom allows for some degree of customization of the recipe. Doom is kind and generous. This cannot be questioned. You may replace chicken with some other similar protein vehicle, if you must. And in this, you should again be grateful to the largess of Doom. But in all other matters of this process, do not dare deviate.

Doom commands you to activate your oven to 375 degrees.

Doom commands you to place your protein vehicle in an ungreased pan.

Doom commands you to prepare 1/3 cup or mayonnaise or similarly textured salad dressing. Doom prefers Ranch; you would do well to emulate him in all ways. To this, add 1/3 cup of Zesty Italian dressing and a tablespoon each of rosemary, basil, and oregano. Mix them together thoroughly.

Doom commands you to brush the protein vehicle with this mixture and place into the ready oven for 30 minutes. In the interim, prepare two medium-sized sweet potatoes by peeling and slicing them into 1-inch pieces. While you await for the initial 30 minutes to end, Doom invites you to contemplate your role in Doom's kingdom and the protection of his subjects from the arrogance of the Accursed Richards. He seeks you harm, my subjects, and Doom will not allow it. Doom is ever vigilant, and his unsleeping army of Doombots protects you as you go about your daily duties, all for the betterment of Latveria and your rightful ruler.

Doom commands you to turn the chicken after 30 minutes, add the potatoes, and pour the remaining dressing mixture upon the dish. Do not waste the precious compound. It is delectable, and Doom will not see a drop ignored.

Doom commands you to bake again for another 30 minutes. You may use this time to put quill to parchment and compose a ballad to Doom. Doom appreciates your outpouring of sincere affection for your king. Also, epic poems describing the inevitable downfall of the Accursed Richards are welcome and will entertain Doom in the quiet hours of the night.

Doom commands you to remove the dish upon the end of the second half hour and consume.

Doom commands you to crave and devour.

+ + +

In a news story that's a blockbuster to a certain contingent, a virtually finished work print of next month's Wolverine movie is available online in pirate torrent sites. It's happened before. The Ang Lee Hulk movie was leaked, but that was a print from earlier in the production process. This Wolverine print is practically the theatrical release, and the FBI has been contact to track down the person who swiped it and put it online. Twentieth Century Fox is allegedly concerned about box-office results, as the online pirating community is often seen as closely connected to the very fanboys the film wants to lure into theatres.

Personally, I don't think it will affect the take that much as I'm confident the casual female audience will show up in droves. Virtually every woman I've talked to who was dragged to see the X-Men films by her boyfriend went ga-ga over Hugh Jackman with the hair and jacket and muscles. They'll make up for any indignant or sated online viewers who stay away from the cinema. Your Sister, for instance, asked if we were going as soon as the first commercial ended. In fact, she asked again last night when the commercial aired during a House rerun.

I won't watch the film online, but now I have to avoid certain sites or risk having the movie spoiled.

Picture of the Day
This should be wallpaper size.

Good Taste

Lost just won a Peabody Award, the electronic media equivalent of the Pulitzer. Here's what the website says:

Lost (ABC)
ABC Studios
Breezily mixing metaphysics, quantum physics, romance and cliffhanger action, the genre-bending series about a group of air-crash survivors on a mysterious island has rewritten the rules of television fiction.

Also winning were NPR, YouTube, NBC's coverage of the Olympics, and Turner Classic Movies.

I ran once more, stopping at two miles but going at a full gallop. I then hung up all the comic art in the new frames. And then made dinner. And shod a horse and build a damn and carved Elvira out of butter. Just another night.

Culinary Pictures of the Day
A larger version is here on her blog. I found this via Slog, the Seattle Weekly mass blog, and it has a great idea: a comic anthology of recipes. Short recipes have appeared in indy comics within the past ten years, notable Scary Godmother and Scott Pilgrim. I'd love to do one of these.

If I Had a Hammer. And a Screwdriver. And Some Spackle.

I bought new frames for the hallway comic pages. That required removal of the original screws and anchors and spackling over the holes. Also, I had to measure for new screws and anchors and hammer and screw those in place. The new frames are nice, and maybe tonight I'll be able to get the artwork back on the walls.

Your Sister was making something with cabbage, and I asked to eat the leftover head half. This is bumpkin coleslaw. I grew up loving the taste of lightly salted raw cabbage. I also did this for lettuce. My Parents had to buy extra heads of each. Your Sis was totally dumbfounded. She never saw someone do this before. She didn't know even how to approach cutting cabbage for snack-sized portions. I gobbled it all with spackle dried to my fingers, and, boy howdy, if that ain't redneck glory.

I'm back to copying ad photos for my daily drawing exercise. I need to call my theatre contact soon to set up the audition and rehearsal schedule.

Picture of the Day
Dr. Manhattan and Janey before the accident. The movie's been perceived as a flop, but I predict gigantic sales of the DVDs. A DVD of the pirate story and the filmed archived footage of the Under The Hood autobiography has been on sale for two weeks, but I'll wait for the monster DVD set to come out this summer.

Officially Official

Wind makes running suck out loud. I was beat up by the time I put on the brakes at stately Debacle Manor. As I drove to work today, I clicked the odometer to measure out my usual course. It's actually longer than 3 miles, meaning I'm surpassing the 5k length when I run it.

As I hung the new comic page on the wall, I got fed up with the flimsy frames we bought. I'm getting new ones. I have decreed. So mote it be.

I had a small epiphany about the play. The script calls for almost all the props to be carried in by one character. She hauls in shopping bags filled with presents and paper plates and napkins and party implements. But we're doing this as reading theatre, and one hand will be busy holding her script. Fortunately, all the props are used at the lone table. If we get a floor-length tablecloth, we can preset the props behind the table. When the actress sets down her now-empty bags behind the table, she can set them next to the props. When anyone reaches for the props, it will look like the props are coming from the bags.

I picked up the remastered version of Pearl Jam's Ten, their debut CD from the very early '90s. I haven't listened to it in years and years. It holds up. The lyrics are overwrought in places, but the new mixes clean up the instruments right nice. "Jeremy" remains THE song from the CD, and despite radio stations playing it into the dirt, it retains all its integrity. It's an unabashed rock song, and it's a better social commentary than Aerosmith's "Janie's Got a Gun."

Picture of the Day
I was emailed pictures of the anthology. It meets daylight this week at an Athens convention. I'm in here somewhere. They didn't tell me there was a lumberjack motif, and I hope I'm not the only artist who didn't draw Paul Bunyan in his comic.

Another Page Done

Here's how old we are: We watched a documentary on crossword puzzles on Friday night. It was good and involving and fun and well-made, but still ... it's a film on crossword puzzles. It's called Wordplay.

The rain kept us inside virtually all weekend. I accidentally discovered a new drawing style Saturday morning just by doodling next to the computer. I wish I had discovered this about ten years earlier. It's quicker and cleaner than, say, the work below, and it just fell out of my pencil.

We hosted a small dinner party and watched Young Frankenstein. It's never not funny. The jokes are less funny than the facial reactions to the jokes.

Throughout the weekend, I made lists for the play I'm to direct. I noted all the entrances and exits, props, and sound effects. I'm seeing some issues with all the props and the handheld scripts. But I don't think we should try to memorize this. We'll adjust the props instead. I tried my director sales-pitch on Your Sis, and she seemed to get the conceit of a sitcom episode.

Comic Page of the Day
Here's the completed noir story starring Your Sister. I scanned it into Illustrator, added the text, printed out only the text and effects, cut them out, and pasted them to the original art board. It's now hanging in our hallway.


Cultural Observation of the Day
The angle against gay marriage has shifted away from the quotation of Biblical verses against homosexuality and toward those that promote maternity. NPR had a story last week about the Quiverfull movement wherein families have as many children as the mom can produce. The rationale is that the brown people are out-breeding the faithful.

The nationally syndicated evangelical radio show I hear during my commute is also claiming now that children are the divine obligation of spouses. If a couple, like us, decide against children, then we are allegedly embracing the consumer culture instead of the culture of life. We are decadent. So there, we have been denounced, which is in no way like the proclamations of the zealot Islamic countries that are the bane of such Christian broadcasts. At all.

Anyway, just keep your ear to the ground in classroom discussions. I don't see this gaining much traction in the mainstream audiences because it dumps all childless marriages in the same stewpot, regardless of the reasons why no kids are created.

My Hand is a Lobster

While making alfredo, I lost my brains, stuck my hand in the pasta pot, and steamed it red. Bright red. The worst part was the pain grew in intensity with each pulse. It didn't blister, so it wasn't so bad. I smeared it with moisturizer (after mentally rejecting butter and water and ice). When the moisturizer worse off, my hands were kissably smooth but tender. The air tickled. I smeared on aloe vera and let the hand air dry for about 90 minutes.

This morning, oddly, my steamed hand is lighter than the other; I expected it to be darker and redder. The pain is gone, but it's still surprisingly sensitive. I could put it in and out of my jeans pocket, and that's the roughest treatment it should get all day. I think I'm OK.

After dating and eventually suckering a teacher into marrying me, I'm more attuned to the homeschool arguments. While reading my hometown newspaper site, I noticed this week's homeschooling activities at the county libraries:

Wednesday
11 a.m. Boiling Springs Library, home-schoolers program. For home-schoolers in first through sixth grades. Call 864-578-3665.

1 p.m. Inman Library, Home-school Teens: Computer Autopsy and Diskette Notebook program. We'll make notebooks from old diskettes. Refreshments provided. Registration required. For ages 12-18 (grades seven-12) only. Call 864-472-8363.

THURSDAY
4 p.m. Westside Library. Meet Ingrid Norris and her canine friend from the Spartanburg Humane Society. Call 574-6815.

5 p.m. Woodruff Library. Join us for the movie screening of "Twilight," rated PG-13. Those younger than 18 should pick up permission slips before the show. Signed letters of permission from parents are also acceptable. Call 864-476-8770.

Crafts, a shelter dog, and Twilight. That's homeschooling. Throw your mind back to 10th grade. If you were assigned to make a notebook out of old disks, it would be considered busywork. That's scrapbooking. No wonder the local home students have to go to Bible colleges. They can't get in anywhere else.

Picture of the Day
A handy dandy guide to the plot of every House episode. Clicky-clicky to embiggen. It's over 1 MB, but it's worth the download.

Sign Me Up

Read the script at lunch yesterday. It's a sitcom episode, a mix of Mama's Family with Golden Girls. I'm sure that's not intentional, but that's what we have. The majority of the piece takes place with all four characters sitting around a table. There are perhaps seven entrances and exits. As long as I can approach it as a sitcom -- a good one, with tight delivery -- then it's going to be as good as something this slim can be.

A 60-year-old is visited by her two daughters for her birthday. One's a floozy, the other's a square. The square brings her boyfriend. Jokes and plans are made. Everyone leaves the house. That's it. Anyone could direct this. Brooke could direct this. How can I turn it down?

Kathy and I jogged and walked at the college. There's a growing trend in run training that stresses a timed mix of effort. Walk for 90 seconds, jog for 60 seconds, all for 20 minutes. It's to build up the cardio. I worked out a bit at home beforehand. Because Your Sis had afterschool labs, and this rendezvous was so late, we were eating supper around 9. We caught maybe five minutes of the presidential conference.

Picture of the Day
The drawing is done, and I'm emailing it to her today. Fixing the hair made a big difference.

Almost Beginnings.

I picked up the script after work, but I won't read it until today at lunch. It is thin. The script is written in a different format than almost every script I've seen. I suspect the writer used film script software to make it. I haven't agreed to do this yet, but I catch myself planning floor diagrams and establishing directorial philosophy. Two things will keep me from directing this: a horrible script and a lack of actors. No, I don't see myself doing this as a one-man show. The writer will allegedly be there to see the show's one performance, and I wonder if we'll have to make any changes to her script to perform it in a church.

I'm supposed to walk with Kathy tonight as she begins her couch-to-race regimen. She wants to run the annual spring 5k. I ran yesterday, and the mixture of a faster pace and warmer air left me weak and breathless after the three miles. I hope the pain and sweat means I'm whittling the pudge away. I've cut back on the frapps and midday snackage. I did have a chesseburger Happy Meal yesterday, but I think its small size says I'm prudent. I just might start turning the garden soil this weekend, depending on how much it rains. That, if nothing else, will slice away the fat.

I indeed worked on the drawing of Your Sister and showed her what I had done by last night. She seemed happy with it, but I'll put money she's unhappy to see what she thinks are her defects. I know she's insecure, and the presence of hundreds of teenagers could wither anyone's defenses. But I see the drawing, and it's unmistakably my hot wife, and so I'm content with it.

Picture of the Day
The poster for the upcoming Maurice Sendak adaptation. This movie's been on the shelf for over a year now.

An Offer

I got a call Friday afternoon from my murder-play director. He was also the head of the script committee. He offered me the chance to direct a one-act play for one performance in late May. "Offered" may be too strong a word. "Asked with hesitance and a touch of desperation" may be better. It's apparently a tradition for the theatre's new play program. They mount a full production of a three-act play for two weekends, and they offer a reader's theatre production of a new one-act at a member's luncheon.

I told him I was curious and that I'd like to read the script before I agree, and he said that was fair. I'll pick up the script Monday night. It's supposedly less than 40 pages. Given that and the one performance and the reading format, it's too good an offer to turn down. Unless the script is crap. But I'm more worried about the actors. Can we get four actors for a one-act to run at lunchtime? The sex farce died when they couldn't cast six people.

Your Sister asked me to draw her for her website image, and I cobbled it together from three photos. I also worked on the noir comic. I bought new ink because I was afraid my old ink was too old. maybe clumpy and gooey. But the new ink I bought (Higgins) is trash. It's thin and watery. I fished out the old ink (Windsor Newton) from the trash, and it worked fine.

Picture of the Day
I need to work on her hair.

Running on Fume-accinos.

Despite what used to be a robust metabolism, I developed a pudge, and I blame my addiction to frappuccinos. Oddly though, they help one run for days and days. I've run hard this week, going farther and with longer strides to get myself back in shape. I ran last night for just at 3 miles and ran earlier this week for a full 5k. I can already see a difference. Also, I'm trying to give up my lunchtime Sprites. I knew they swelled my gut, but their siren song was too alluring. [shakes fist at Sprite, swears vengeance]

Of course someone brought a box of fresh doughnuts to the office today. And I must eat them. It's the agreement doughnuts and I struck at the Treaty of Delicious after the Revolutionary War.

I bought new pens to try out. They're a step up from my bargain-basement ink pens, and I really need to find the high-end stuff. I intend to use a brush to ink this noir comic because the blacks must be deep and opaque. Pen ink is thin and can fade easily. But I'm nervous about starting the inking. I want this art to be better than that of the six-pager. I want to be proud of this, even if it is a ten-panel joke.

Also, I'll draw Your Sister's headshot for her school webpage this weekend.

Picture of the Day
One of Seattle's two dailies closed this week, and the obituary editor added it to their last listing.


No one asked me what can be done to save papers, but two things are vital:
1) Buy them cheap from the morons who bought them and ran them into the ground. Most papers are drying because their syndicate owners didn't know how to run papers, and tried to make every paper nationally relevant. Papers were trying to compete with USAToday and the Wall Street Journal and New York Times. They burned out. Also, people stopped buying the papers when they reduced their local copy to reach a national audience.

2) Papers should perceive themselves less as newspaper companies and more as new agencies that have a printer. With online options, papers can produce audio and video along side text and graphics. They can be TV channels, radio channels, and newspapers every day. They have to diversify.

Scattered

I opened the workshed for the first time this year and started the lawnmower maintenance. Dad and I made a deal that he'd by us a new one for this year, but, well, you know. I can make this one last another year if need be. I opened the oil pan so it can drain for a few days. I also hammered down the fence stakes around the garden. We indeed have rabbits, and I saw one just as I entered the back yard. I'll change one end to make it removable; that will let us drive a tiller in and out of there.

Your Sister rejected all of my suggested avatars for her teacher webpage. She even asked for the third, drawn picture. Now she wants a drawing of her. I don't think she knows she's starring my current comic project.




The prez predicted his NCAA March madness brackets and named UNC as the overall winner. As did I on Monday. Just sayin'.

Moving Picture of the Day
Did you know they made a musical about Your Aunt Susan? Amazing.

Pulp Nonfiction

A catch-up phone call with mom revealed that she did not like target practice with Her Brother's .38-calibre gun. She thinks she'll sleep better with a gun in the house, and since Louis isn't using his anymore, she claimed dibs. Unfortunately, the kick of the gun was too much for her, and she now wants to downgrade to a .22. She also wants to forgo the license, which is a bad idea. It means two things:
1) She won't be able to buy the gun from a legal source. I assume she's going to buy a gun from a friend of a friend.
2) She can get charged if she's discovered. She doesn't intend to carry it in her purse, but if she drives with it and is pulled over, she's in trouble.

My Wife wants a bike, and My Mom's packing heat illegally. What kind of drive-in-movie reality did I wake up in?

I ran 5k yesterday along the heartbreak hill route. Because our pub moved to the foot of that hill, I get to run by the smokers twice as they wait for a table. Running past an Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day -- again, twice -- is a damn depressing thing. I wanted to run farther, but the hill tightened up my legs, and I walked for part of it. But that was after I finished 5k. I got an email this morning from someone who wanted to start training for a 5k, and I'll be her running buddy. We ran together in a 5k last year on the morning Dad took ill.

Picture of the Day
After taking last week off, Lost returns tonight!

Two Offers

When we staggered home Sunday night, I found a phone message from the actor who played the judge in the Christmas show. He asked me to call back, and I did on Monday. He was looking to cast a role at a play for the local learning center but had cast it after he first called me.

And then today, I found a Facebook message from the director of the annual debut play presentation. The theatre holds a contest to debut a play every year, and this one will apparently deal with young Shakespeare. I'm curious, but the show after that is Rainmaker, and I was asked to audition for that last year. I don't think I can do both. Also, I hope Your Sis can try for Rainmaker too. We could be the leads.

My participation will depend on my confidence that the Christmas show disaster won't be repeated. Right now, as I type this, I only feel dread nihilism. But I'm leaning toward Rainmaker of the two. I know the show (I advocated it in the script committee), and it's a great vehicle for the lead actors. But I may be too old for the role. That's a new reality for me.

For St. Patrick's Day, we opened some Guiness, and it was crap. I think the magic draught widgets in the bottles were broken. Your Sis didn't know about them. When I finished my beer and rattled it inside my bottle, the look on her face that suggested she imagined a mouse skull inside it.

The comic is sketched out, and I'll define the art before I ink.

Are you all exam-ified?

Picture of the Day
Found online.

I Married a Motorcycle Mama

I attended a post-natal baby shower for Kathy and Travis Friday night.They had pizza and beer, and it was good to catch up. They played a very odd game called Name That Poo. The attendees split into two teams. We were given diapers containing melted candy bars, and we had to identify them by smell (I mean, no one wanted to taste them). That was odd. Odder was offering us brownies after. Yikes. We also played baby Pictionary, and I was voted to draw for the men's team. As soon as I walked into the room, I was pulled aside by four people who each asked me about Watchmen. I told them it was huge, it was fun, and it's not Iron Man. I also offered them my trade collection to read.

I killed time shopping before the shower and found framed canvas for almost 50% off. I bought two large canvases, and now they stare at me with their impatient canvas eyes.

We hit Asheville on Saturday to get the taxes taken care of, and we treated Your Mom to lunch. I bought some art pens the pros are raving about, and I showed Your Sis the new Barnes & Noble store at the mall. It's massively massive.

We then found a motorcycle store, and Your Sis went gaga. We found a nice riding jacket she might get for her birthday, and she confirmed that the bike she learned on is the right model for her. Everything else was either too tall or made her sit too far forward. The Honda Rebel is similar to the mid-century Army bikes, and that only makes them cooler (MASHcycle!). Sh's asking me if I want to learn too, and I fear I'll intrude on her new hobby. Also, I can't ride that small a bike, and we don't need to buy two cycles.

We walked to a neighbor house for Irish supper on Sunday. Your Sis made Irish coffee, and we all drank Irish beer. Then the two of us staggered home. A local theatre is presenting Rocky Horror this summer, and I'm trying to talk Your Sis into watching the DVD before she sees the play. I think she becomes more reluctant to see it with each new detail I provide.

The drawing of the new comic story has begun. Did I mention it stars Your Sister?

Picture of the Day
This is her on the Best Bike.

Wow.

Ignore anything I might say and just watch this. This is incredible stuff.



Really Cool, New Sixth-Sense Technology

New Work

The new one-page is now officially thumbnailed. I typed out my script at work with simple panel suggestions and then quickly sketched those at work. I measured out a miniature page layout at home played with panel details before going to bed. I woke up this morning, streamlined the designs, and drew the thumbnails on the miniature page layout. I can move to the full-page art today by drawing the panel grid. I'm already compiling my noir reference comics, including Sin City.

Your Sis was crashing hard last night, and the least little stimulus had her barking with cranky sleepiness. I think I might run tonight unless it gets really, really cold. Which it might.

We're sending spooky mind energy to you for the exams.

Oh, yeah. I somehow managed to pop my thumb out again and had to do the double-joint fix as I lay in bed. I worry that I now have a gimpy thumb. I don't know how it happened this time either. I'm not hanging off cliffs or thumb wrestling bears.

Picture of the Day
The inevitable sequel. I loved watching Welcome Back, Kotter on WGN, but it was always pre-empted by baseball.

Disarming

When we visited Mom Saturday, she told us she was going practice shooting with a neighbor. She took my uncle's gun after he died. She may have shot a gun once before. She said she was told that ammo is so hard to come by because people are stocking up in preparation of a suspected gun ban from Obama. I've heard this stockpiling story since November when he won the election. It's a common rumor; the same fear emerged after Clinton was elected. The local gun stores are running newspaper ads offering to buy guns, much like the ubiquitous TV ads offering market value for gold jewelry. I tried to tell Mom the whole thing is hooey cooked up by gun dealers and radio hosts. She again mentioned the dearth of ammo. I reminded her we're fighting two wars. Our supply is going elsewhere.

Since then, we've heard of Sunday's church shooting in Illinois, yesterday's Alabama shooting spree, and today's German school shooting. I appreciate the second amendment for basic gun rights. Hunters need guns. People protecting their homes need guns. No one needs an automatic rifle. No one needs more than two guns (one upstairs, one downstairs for robberies; an optional handgun when hunting). Of course, nothing can stop a determined crazy person. But we can make it harder for them to rack up a body count when they snap. Maybe the recent news can emphasize a need to reform gun control.

I admit, I've thought of owning a gun recently. I live in exactly the kind of small town that encourages the "gun culture" -- a loaded term I admit -- and, every single day, I fear a shooting spree at her school. I also find myself living next to a highway patrolmen, and I think this will discourage robbers. Your Sister can always throw a cat at a burglar, and the claws will ruin him if the ungodly feline weight doesn't crush his brain bones.

Your Sis made a blonde chili for din-din, and it was good. I didn't grow up a chili fan. More specifically, I was raised on canned chili, which is really ground meat in grease. This was much nicer. I also ran for the second time in three days in this perfect weather.

My next art project will be a one-page noir story. It started as a shared joke with the missus, and I wrote the script in the shower. I knew installing the typewriter there would come in handy.

Picture of the Day
Best blanket ever.

Kill Your Clocks

I hope the change to standard time hasn't hobbled your studies. Seems like horrible planning for the school to give exams the same week of the time shift, as does pissing off tired young people who now have access to scalpels. Your Sister's school also gives a Very Important Test this week, and now the already terrified tenth graders are fog-headed. I can't tell if springing forward has altered my headspace or if I'm still groggy from the midnight movie. I'm old. It's possible.

The warm weather -- which ends this weekend -- has prematurely activated my spring-sense. I want to run and garden. I open up my workshop blinds and draw in sunlight. I enjoy seeing sunlight at 8 p.m. But I am primordial when the alarm clock yells at me.

Sketch of the Day
Another picture from the workshop wall. This is a Incredibles costume. Elastigirl.

She Watches the Watchmen

Friday was not a blur of sleepy spasm as I feared. Your Sis met me in town to see a Celtic Concert, and I realized there was no way I could nod off during it when I noticed our tickets were for third-row seats. We left midway through, however, when Your Sis noticed that there was none of the dancing advertised months before.

We drove down to see Mom Saturday and spoil her for her birthday. I took eclairs, and Your Sis took flowers. Mom requested a lunch at a new Greek-Italian restaurant, and I indulged my love for gyros. My LOVE for gyros. We then took her to the mall for shoe shopping. We crawled under the house to fix her furnace filter, and I discovered it's a job I should do alone from now on. Mom doesn't need to crawl under the house for anything. We did get to wear haz-mat suits, and that was fun. Mom handed me a box of school yearbooks and photo albums of my first wedding. I suppose she's revised history so that never happened, and that's fine. The boxes and all inside them smell like cigarettes, and they are currently airing out in the garage.

As we drove back into Hendersonville, Your Sis noted that we were driving past the movie theatre and suggested we see Watchmen. Right now. We pulled into the parking lot and saw the movie was starting in five minutes. We ran in, bought tickets, ignored the food stands, and took in the movie. She loved it. She read the comic about five years ago and remembered a little about what went in there. But the film has its own story to tell and she liked it. She wants to see it again very soon.

The second viewing only made me like the film more, becuase I could divorce it from the comic. It has a different punchline because the details of the conspiracy change, but do so in a digestible way. The comic has such a detached, formal tone that the movie's energy is wildly distinct. I don't agree with all the changes made, but I understand them. I want the directors-cut DVD right now to see what was trimmed for time constraints. I suspect a lot was. There's a continuity gaffe in the last half hour of the film because of such edits, but it's not a horrible mistake. Just a head scratcher.

The movie is able to build on certain themes and especially the conceit of the 1985 setting. There are celebrity cameos and cultural markers the comic eschewed, and the movie seems to use an '80s-style score similar to that of Blade Runner.

The consensus online seems to be that it succeeds as a film but not so much as an adaptation. I agree. But then, again, this film could easily be four hours long if it was more faithful to the comic. It certainly gives V for Vendetta a run for its money as the best Alan Moore adaptation. The opening-credit sequence alone is worth the ticket price. Be warned: It's a hard R. Blood and body parts abound. Not that the rating stopped the dumbfuck parents who brought small children to see this.

On Sunday, I solved a puzzle that was a few weeks old. I hurt my thumb when my ergonomic office chair tipped over, and I thought I had sprained it. I iced it once to lessen the swelling, but a shock of pain erupted randomly. I couldn't find a pattern to it. I could still use my thumb, but any common activity would surprise me with pain. Just this weekend, I noticed that I no longer could make the joint jerk. My thumbs are double jointed, and I can "pop" them backward but not with my right injured thumb. I made it work again, and in doing so, made the pain go away. Your Sis thinks I slightly dislocated my thumb and then fixed it.

Sketch of the Day
A quick Comedian sketch made for a message board. The character damn near steals the movie.

I Watches the Watchmen

I got confirmation from the anthology people. They got the comic. The delay in emailing me back stemmed form their inability to open a WinZip file on a Mac. That's surprising.

I got home yesterday and shotgunned a Pepsi to help me make it to the wee hours. Your Brother called us to catch up and sounded genuinely envious that I could sneak out for a midnight show. We ate the spaghetti gift from the grateful TV owners, and Your Sis sacked out around ten. I left for the theatre at 10:45, leaving me time to drift into the doughnut shop. I was the first to arrive for the midnight show at the theatre and saw the empty lobby and no line. I walked over the Krispy Kreme and found it closed. CLOSED! KK never closes. It's supposed to be 24-hour. That's the law. No, this closed at 10:30. Back to the theatre I went, and I bought food. I was the first into the screening room as well, and I read a bit to kill time. We had maybe 15 people total for the film. Right behind me sat the majority of my local Starbucks staff. One came in costume:


I was in love as soon as it started. I was waiting for the film to swerve so far away from the comic that I'd be annoyed. In some cases the opposite happened: The comic dialogue doesn't work when spoken aloud, and it sounded flat in many cases. In others, the film added new moments and angles that cocked my head like the RCA dogs. But also the film added bits that were smart and affecting. It ran the full gamut of adaptation success. I'm eager to see it again Sunday.

It's a hard R. Much nudity and much blood. Those elicited giggles from the younger folks. It also tries to inject coolness to characters and moments that shouldn't be cool. And I felt the increased action was the right move; we get to see why the heroes went into this line of work: It's thrilling. The director-cut DVD should be astounding.

I had no trouble getting back home and remained wide awake until my head hit the pillow. My eyes are shot, and my typing is worse than ever. But so far, so good.

T-minus Something Something.

Your Sis went to work today to spite her illness. I took to the sick bed to keep the sickness from spreading. Yes, the sick bed is there for the sick person, but there you go. I made the curry dish last night by re-engineering a confusing recipe -- how can a pound of chicken and onions simmer in 2 teaspoons of water? -- but it was saved by pineapple and pinches of a curry you mailed us. Tikka, I think. We then watched a charming episode of Lost, and I grabbed my last decent handful of sleep until tomorrow night. The Krispy Kreme next to the movie theater will power me home after the film. Ebert gave it four stars, but I'll read his review only after I've seen the film.

The attorney who closed our house and read our August ceremony vows called us last week needing help with his new TV. He couldn't get the peripherals to work with it. I talked him through it on the phone, and all seemed well. Then he and his wife called the next night to say they took back the TV, traded it for a new one, and needed to start from scratch. Again, over the phone, we set them up. Then they called last night with DVD trouble, and I gave them some ideas. That seemed to work, and now they're giddy with the new entertainment center. They made us spaghetti as payment, and we're supposedly going to eat it tonight.

Sketch of the Day
You've seen my workshop's serial-killer wall of photos. The purpose of it was to hold photos that I could grab and draw to exercise those art muscles. I'm finally back at it, and here's an image from a Saks Fifth Avenue ad. Drawing a head at a turn is very tricky, and I need the practice.

I've Got a Golden Ticket

I drove straight to the decent movie theatre closest to our house once I left work. That's in Hendersonville. I got my ticket for the midnight showing of Watchmen, and I will be seeing the film alone. Your Sis is again suffering through an ick, and, even if she were hale and hearty, she ain't staying up that late. She will see it with me on Sunday. As the ticket saleswoman warned me, it's a long movie; couple that with the drive home, and I won't be getting back until about 4 a.m. Friday. Work should be interesting, as will be our planned attendance at a Celtic concert that night. Our hero will be caffeinated.

The few advance reviews I've seen from comic professionals and regular folk alike suggest it's an interesting misfire. I don't expect to be transported in an adaptation that matches the heights of, say, Lord of the Rings. I don't think the director is good enough to manage that, frankly. But he is so savvy of effects and camera trickery that I think it will be a kinetic experience. There is a danger of injecting too much action for the sake of winning over mainstream audiences. For instance, the ads feature a shot of the heroine Silk Spectre crashing through the ceiling of a burning building. In the comic, that scene only sees her escort people out through a window and into the flying owlship of her partner. Watchmen isn't an action story. The few fight scenes last maybe one page each. If there's too much punchy-kicky, fans of the comic might break out into laughter. Not that the film relies on their money to be a success.

I'm no longer geeking over this, midnight excursion to the contrary. Rather, I'm terrified of being online all day Friday and seeing some ruinous spoilers plastered onscreen by a merry prankster. I'm saving myself from rage. I haven't seen a midnight show since the first X-Men movie, and that led me to write the first printed local review of the film in the Upstate. I had a scoop.

Picture of the Day
This is from an undated fashion shoot for mom clothes. At least they picked a clean comic store.

Snow Day Weekend

Because we had a snow day yesterday (Monday), I now have to throw my mind back to Friday. Hmm...

That's not working, so let's move on to what I do remember. The college pal I found on Facebook recently ha a birthday party Saturday night. She was also hosting her boyfriend from the west coast; he plays in a fringe-art band we listened to in college. Nice guy. I can absolutely see why she grabbed him. It was your usual standing-conversation party until the DJs arrived. With three laptops, they made a spontaneous motion art show. They projected image collages on the wall while improvising a thirty-minute ambient symphony. It was from another planet.

Then Elisa and her guy performed a half-composed work on piano and guitar. Another person joined in on clarinet, all while another collage show projected over her piano. I think it was a bone-sober trip, and I was crushed I couldn't contribute anything to it. I wanted to harmonize. While these shows went on, I drew in her journal per her request, but I stopped after a few minutes because it felt rude to not give the performances my full attention. She did this exact mesmerizing spectacles in college, and she blew my Top 40-and-sitcom mind.

During the weekend, I read the book documenting the making of the Watchmen comic. It's a huge tome, designed as a coffee table edition, with heaps of details and archival design material from the artist. Then I read Absolute Watchmen, the over-sized, hi-res, recolored edition, and I saw stuff I missed in reading the normal trade for 20 years. Also, I am now fully girded for the movie. I'm avoiding online preview clips and hope to see the midnight show this Friday morning.

I cleaned up my workshop and placed about 20 pounds of paper in the recycle pile.

The snow day allowed me to read all five volumes of a very Japanese-influenced comic called Scott Pilgrim. I now want to draw a Scott Pilgrim short story and just might. I need a quick art project. I haven't heard from the publisher since I sent in the short story, and I assume they're busy compiling all the submissions.

We knew Sunday evening that Monday would be a stay-home snow day. Much reading ensued. The day ended with wings, as all good Mondays do. We're planning two -- TWO -- curry dishes this week, and I think we're getting competitive about whose will be better.

Picture of the Day