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.

UpDad and a New Gig

Dad called after his most recent chemo on Wednesday to say he felt OK. A bit tired, of course. He's lost three pounds, which may be the most since he was diagnosed. But he thinks the next chemo won't be as harsh. He spends his days watching baseball and sleeping; if I send him the DVD of the play, he might finally call the cable folks to hook the player to the new HDTV configuration. He again mentioned buying me a new lawnmower, but he shouldn't worry about that now. I don't want to dismiss something he wants to do, but I told him we can do it later. Because I'm convinced there will be a later.

We had dinner with the play director and his wife last night, and he threw me a curve. Remember that play he had me read and comment on? Turns out he wasn't so much grooming me for a part as testing me. And I passed. He asked me to join the Play Selection Committee for the theatre. I get to read and recommend shows. I was handed four scripts last night, and I'll start one today during lunch. It's volunteer, but this is nothing less than fate challenging me after I spent years complaining about the theatre offerings.

I again got up early to draw the page, and I managed to sketch through two panels. I now have three days to draw, ink, color, and letter the page. But I can do it.

Picture of the Day
That's what I'm talking about.

Starting the Comic Page

As I made dinner last night, and Your Sister finished reading The Mist, we found salad makings from the cast party that were never used. or used up. An entire box of mixed greens had to go, and she was tempted to toss out the leftover basil. I suggested we dry it out and chop it up for cooking, and up I went to hang it in a paper bag over the garage. I always forget that the previous owners left stuff up there: Christmas paper and boxes and a broken table.

I started the comic art last night. You can see the previous jam pages here. I sketched out my thumbnails beforehand, and created the panels on the artboard.



But then I took stock of the schedule and decided I should use photo references for the figures. I'm playing with awkward camera angles and tricky poses. I recruited Your Sis and showed her the previous jam comic pages to explain how we got to this point. Then I showed her the thumbnails so she'd know what poses I'm looking for and how they'll work on the page. It went very smoothly. I'd like to think I can do this better than the theatre photographer. I also took shots of myself for reference and dusted off my figure reference flip book for artists.

I feel good about where I am and what I'm trying to do here. I should be able to hit the Sunday deadline easily. This is the sketch for the first panel, when our stupid hero wakes up.