I'm going out tonight, going to catch Mission of Burma at Double Door. Some people complain about Double Door, but I think it's a great little venue for seeing bands. I saw the Buzzcocks there a few years ago, and that was a fantastic show.
I'm flying solo, which is often very common for me when I go see one of the rare bands I'm interested in hearing live. I don't bother to ask anybody if they'd like to go, because they've either not heard of the band in question or likely wouldn't like the music if they heard it. And because when I go on my own, I can just focus on the band's music, sans distraction, and soak up their sound. Not that I'd object to taking a date to see a band, but for me, the consummate audiophile, I'm very much there to watch the performance, to hear the performer play, to watch them.
That's How I Escaped My Certain Fate
Anyway, that's what's on my plate tonight. I'm so glad there's the smoking ban in Chicago -- it makes seeing bands so much more pleasant; you don't have to detox after seeing a show.
Dead Pool
Mission of Burma is one of the few active bands out there I'm at all curious about seeing, since so much of their sound was about sound, itself -- like their approach to music is very, I dunno, elemental. It's hard to describe, exactly. They were always in their own space, soundwise -- hard to classify or pigeonhole. There's their songs themselves, and how they present them, sonically -- which sounds maybe stupid, I'm not sure.
It's kind of like when you watch a movie (or when I do, anyway) and pay attention to not just the movie, but how it's shot, the decisions the director makes in the shooting of it. With Mission of Burma, there are the songs themselves, and there is their approach to tackling the "problem" of their songs, themselves -- the aesthetic choices they make. I respect them as musicians, for carving out their own space.
Einstein's Day
They're often a band I listen to when I'm brooding, or driving around, thinking. I look forward to standing there in the little crowd, nursing a beer, just awash in sound, at almost point-blank range.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Open Minds and Open Hearts
Tucking the boys in, I told B1 next Friday was my birthday, and he had a bit of angst about it. I told him that the key to staying young forever was to keep an open mind and an open heart -- an open mind would keep him free, and an open heart would let him feel the wonder of life wherever he went, and those things would keep him young, and that the key to really savoring life was to pay attention to the world around him, to notice the details, and take delight in them. He took my hand and held it against his face and closed his eyes. My sweet lil' guy. His brother was already asleep the moment I tucked him in. I kissed their foreheads and that was that. Good night, lil' angels.
'Burnin'
I set up a haircut appointment for next Friday (e.g., my birthday), and not a moment too soon! Again, I keep getting acknowledgments from hipsters, who (I gather) appreciate my werewolfesque sideburns at the moment. Like I saw Hipster Moe on the bus yesterday, on the commute home, and he nodded a greeting before putting on his oversized shades. He's wearing his Chuckies, has his ratty plaid shirt, his scruffy jacket, his messenger bag, his stubble, his big shades, and is reading some esoteric book. And there's me, with my messenger bag, my scruffy face and burns, my pewter loafers, my tan jacket with the plaid interior, busy writing longhand in one of my many notebooks. Hipster Moe appeared particularly interested in that -- probably the combination of me writing and writing longhand fit his conception of what one ought to be doing. Not sure. Anyway, I'll keep the 'burns after the haircut, but they'll be less Wolverine-looking, more restrained.
Nothing else jumped out at me yesterday, except that spring is in full flower in Chicagoland, which means women wearing their spring fashions -- the flowers are blooming in the city! There really are two schools of dress in Chicago in spring, among the womenfolk: 1) the Flowers, who defiantly go full-on spring in their attire; and 2) the Diehards, who hew to the more restrained hues of winter, as if they are unsure whether spring is actually here (they can be identified by shades of black, grey, and brown in their attire, usually in jeans). I can't honestly fault either group -- they're both right. Spring IS here, and, it being Chicago, it also means a good snow is likely still around the bend before Winter finally flees.
Today, it's sunny and lovely, although cool. I had the boys so well-dressed yesterday, they looked adorable -- B1 in a white button-down with blue stripes, a navy blue Polo sweater vest, blue jeans, and brown loafers; B2 in a kelly green Polo pullover sweater and jeans with white sneakers. They looked adorable. Both boys are such cuties.
I was tickled -- walking them to their babysitter this morning, B1 was talking to me about bioluminescence. I love to hear my 8-year-old using such big words! He's so sharp! I think he'll likely trend toward engineering or architecture or medicine or something like that when he's older. He just seems to have that blend in him. I try to keep an eye on that, what he enjoys. B2 is a born performer -- I can see him being a natural in almost any sport he wants, because he's naturally athletic, but he's also very smart, loves to cook, and loves singing and acting. He's likely to be an entertainer/performer type in some fashion, although we'll see.
Nothing else jumped out at me yesterday, except that spring is in full flower in Chicagoland, which means women wearing their spring fashions -- the flowers are blooming in the city! There really are two schools of dress in Chicago in spring, among the womenfolk: 1) the Flowers, who defiantly go full-on spring in their attire; and 2) the Diehards, who hew to the more restrained hues of winter, as if they are unsure whether spring is actually here (they can be identified by shades of black, grey, and brown in their attire, usually in jeans). I can't honestly fault either group -- they're both right. Spring IS here, and, it being Chicago, it also means a good snow is likely still around the bend before Winter finally flees.
Today, it's sunny and lovely, although cool. I had the boys so well-dressed yesterday, they looked adorable -- B1 in a white button-down with blue stripes, a navy blue Polo sweater vest, blue jeans, and brown loafers; B2 in a kelly green Polo pullover sweater and jeans with white sneakers. They looked adorable. Both boys are such cuties.
I was tickled -- walking them to their babysitter this morning, B1 was talking to me about bioluminescence. I love to hear my 8-year-old using such big words! He's so sharp! I think he'll likely trend toward engineering or architecture or medicine or something like that when he's older. He just seems to have that blend in him. I try to keep an eye on that, what he enjoys. B2 is a born performer -- I can see him being a natural in almost any sport he wants, because he's naturally athletic, but he's also very smart, loves to cook, and loves singing and acting. He's likely to be an entertainer/performer type in some fashion, although we'll see.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Lunchable
I got over 1100 words of the screenplay transcribed over lunch (e.g., 30 minutes). That's good. Gives me a sense of how long it'll take to get it all transcribed. Shouldn't take too terribly long, as I type very quickly.
Finished!
I finished the first draft of the screenplay this morning! Yay! Now, I have to transcribe it (yeah, I wrote it longhand), and put the scenes in order, and read through it and revise/rewrite as necessary. And then let some folks read it, see what they think. Then revise and rewrite again, then sling it out to the competition. We'll see. I think it's got a good concept, and the plot unfolds nicely, and anybody who knows me will laugh when they read it, because they'll most definitely realize the inspiration behind it. I hope it wins at the festival, although I really can't get my hopes up, of course. Here's what I'm competing for...
What I'll likely do on revision is turn up the volume on it (not in terms of gore, but in terms of terror -- I'm not a fan of gory horror as a substitute for good writing). There's the meat and bones of the story, and then I'll bring the horror and terror into as sharp a focus as I can. I have plenty of time to get it done before the deadline. I'll see what I have when I have it all typed up and the scenes in order (the hardest part of screenwriting [for me, anyway] is writing scenes out of sequence).
All winning entries will be reviewed for consideration for production and/or distribution. In addition, we’ll announce to thousands of industry professionals that you were a winner of our festival. This will be done via an advertisement in a widely read industry publication. In some cases there will or will also be a cash prize and/or a product/software bundle.Of course, the challenge I face is that they're judging it on "most frightening" -- and I don't know if the story I wrote is "most frightening" or not. It'll be a well-written, smart, darkly funny horror screenplay. Will it be most frightening? I don't know. But will it be good? Hell, yeah, it will. It will feature a unique monster, and will be witty and carefully plotted. But "most frightening?" I don't know. Fingers crossed? We'll see how my readers react to it. It's hard for me to judge it, since I am behind the curtain, know all the magic tricks.
What I'll likely do on revision is turn up the volume on it (not in terms of gore, but in terms of terror -- I'm not a fan of gory horror as a substitute for good writing). There's the meat and bones of the story, and then I'll bring the horror and terror into as sharp a focus as I can. I have plenty of time to get it done before the deadline. I'll see what I have when I have it all typed up and the scenes in order (the hardest part of screenwriting [for me, anyway] is writing scenes out of sequence).
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Umm...
Is smart-assery genetic? I think it must be. While B1's picking up of sarcasm and a dry sense of humor could be attributed to watching the Master at work, B2 (who is four years old), appears to have inherited my near-innate ability to take the piss.
Case in point: Sometimes the boys will say "Hey, umm, Daddy?" when asking something -- and I'll say "What's with the 'umm?' You know who I am!" Anyway, I said that to B2 again tonight, after giving him some chocolate milk, and he said "Thanks, UMM Daddy!" And then he giggled impishly! He totally did it to get my goat! I laughed.
He did it on purpose! Lil' stinker!
Case in point: Sometimes the boys will say "Hey, umm, Daddy?" when asking something -- and I'll say "What's with the 'umm?' You know who I am!" Anyway, I said that to B2 again tonight, after giving him some chocolate milk, and he said "Thanks, UMM Daddy!" And then he giggled impishly! He totally did it to get my goat! I laughed.
He did it on purpose! Lil' stinker!
Ah! Leah!
This video disappears every now and then, but then reappears. Such a great tune -- totally laden with memories for me. It's impossible not to think of things when I hear this one. The amateur nature of the video is extra-appealing, the whole "face made for radio" kind of thing with early videos. But a classic song, regardless.
Scene: Sequel
Had a bizarre moment this morning -- I was walking to the bus, trying not to get rained on too much, and got to the intersection just as that Euro-Couple did (the bearded guy and his cheek-pierced babe). They were busy hopping puddles. I didn't know they were in the area (they hadn't gotten off at my stop last night). Anyway, that was kind of shocking for me, running into them again like that. The gal's cheek-piercing runs parallel to the plane of her face (e.g., like this -- ). Such an odd place for a piercing, and it's such a tiny piercing, anyway, it's kind of like "What's the point?" I was tempted to ask them their nationality, but didn't want to pester them as we were all navigating the rain this morning.
Bunny
I saw this on Easter Sunday. Looks like the Easter Bunny is making a deal. I honked as I drove past the Bunny, who raised a fist in greeting without turning around. I liked that.
Scene: Busing
I took the bus the whole way home last night, which is sometimes its own reward, depending on the bus ride. I have to take two buses to get to and from work, or a bus and a train on the way home, if I don't want to fuss with the connecting bus on the homeward trek. But yesterday, I decided to do the bus/bus route, as it gave me more time to write -- one of the advantages of being a writer is you don't mind being stuck in traffic, as it just means more writing time!
My connecting bus was pretty packed, and it was full of curious sorts -- there was this foreign couple, I can't be sure of their ethnicity, as their language was familiarly unfamiliar, if that makes sense (like maybe Romanian? Moroccan? Portuguese? Greek? Gypsies? I don't know). The guy was pale-skinned and bearded, and looked blandly familiar in some ineffable way -- he reminded me of some actor, not a famous one, but like a character actor. His girlfriend was exotic -- lightly tanned, square-jawed (slightly cleft chin), honey-blonde hair all braided -- like frickin' cornrows, amber eyes, and a very odd tiny cheek piercing -- like just on the upper part of the cheek, the planes of her face, this little half-inch beaded piercing, like a little line. I've never seen somebody with a piercing like that (and, as far as I could tell, only on the right side of her face). Dark eyebrows, full. She had this leonine countenance, was very striking -- like a European version of a hippie chick (better-dressed -- like colorful scarf, black slacks, white shirt). They kept talking most of the time, in their odd language. Had suitcases.
Next to them was a young guy who looked like the stand-in for Christian Bateman in "American Psycho" -- he had the tousle-haired killer preppy look going something fierce.
Next to me was a gal who saw one of her friends at the front of the crowded bus, and called her on her cell phone. That was funny for me, hearing one-half of the conversation right next to me, and seeing the friend reply at the front of the bus, but not being able to hear what she was saying. Almost performance art, really.
Standing in front of me were the Three Hipster Stooges, which was amusing -- Guy 1 (Moe) had the barely-there beard, big dark shades, dove grey sweater, jeans, and hip shoes; Guy 2 (Larry) had on pinstriped pants and a vest and a button-down shirt and a tan messenger bag (and amber-hued shades); Guy 3 (Curly) had on a gray shiny shirt and charcoal grey sweater with the sleeves rolled up, worn jeans and loafers and a dark messenger bag. It was funny watching them all strike Coolio poses as they fought for balance on the swaying bus.
Finally, there was this beautiful woman with dark brown hair, long, and a long face, lightly tanned, ice blue eyes, dressed in stylish preppy fashions (yellow Wellies, worn jeans, button-down and a rain jacket, worn leather bag) -- she was truly beautiful, looked like she could've been an airline stewardess -- like that kind of good-looking gal, like "trophy wife" kind of thing. One curious feature (hence me mentioning her at all) was that she had a scar on the left side of her face, just past the mouth, on her cheek. Who knows the story of that -- auto accident? Skiing mishap? Who knows? It probably drove her bananas, though, because she really was beautiful, and to have that amazing face scarred had to have been a real shocker -- but it was an old enough scar that she'd obviously gotten long past it. Just a curious little detail, the scarred beauty. Oh, and I think her name was Anne. I saw because she was two-fisting her telecommunication -- like an iPhone in one hand and a QWERTY cell in the other hand, and she kept alternating between them, texting on both. I saw her name on one as she was switching between communicators.
I always notice when people walk around with their ID badges hanging from their belts, too. I'd never do that, wouldn't want people knowing my name. It's like "Hey, Kevin. Howdy, Jason. Hiya, Jennifer! What's happening, Stanley?" (and their last names, too, and lord knows what else is on those photo IDs) People don't think about that, I guess. For them, it's just an ID badge. Maybe I'm just very paranoid (well, yeah), but I'd keep my ID badge out of sight until I needed it. Seeing those, I often wonder what they're doing that requires that ID badge (to his credit, Hipster Moe had his in his pocket, although the lanyard for it said TRIBUNE so the poor sod apparently works at the Trib, at least he's smart enough to keep his ID concealed). Also, as I look for new work, I wonder "Christ, am I gonna have to be sporting an ID badge on a chain, too?"
My connecting bus was pretty packed, and it was full of curious sorts -- there was this foreign couple, I can't be sure of their ethnicity, as their language was familiarly unfamiliar, if that makes sense (like maybe Romanian? Moroccan? Portuguese? Greek? Gypsies? I don't know). The guy was pale-skinned and bearded, and looked blandly familiar in some ineffable way -- he reminded me of some actor, not a famous one, but like a character actor. His girlfriend was exotic -- lightly tanned, square-jawed (slightly cleft chin), honey-blonde hair all braided -- like frickin' cornrows, amber eyes, and a very odd tiny cheek piercing -- like just on the upper part of the cheek, the planes of her face, this little half-inch beaded piercing, like a little line. I've never seen somebody with a piercing like that (and, as far as I could tell, only on the right side of her face). Dark eyebrows, full. She had this leonine countenance, was very striking -- like a European version of a hippie chick (better-dressed -- like colorful scarf, black slacks, white shirt). They kept talking most of the time, in their odd language. Had suitcases.
Next to them was a young guy who looked like the stand-in for Christian Bateman in "American Psycho" -- he had the tousle-haired killer preppy look going something fierce.
Next to me was a gal who saw one of her friends at the front of the crowded bus, and called her on her cell phone. That was funny for me, hearing one-half of the conversation right next to me, and seeing the friend reply at the front of the bus, but not being able to hear what she was saying. Almost performance art, really.
Standing in front of me were the Three Hipster Stooges, which was amusing -- Guy 1 (Moe) had the barely-there beard, big dark shades, dove grey sweater, jeans, and hip shoes; Guy 2 (Larry) had on pinstriped pants and a vest and a button-down shirt and a tan messenger bag (and amber-hued shades); Guy 3 (Curly) had on a gray shiny shirt and charcoal grey sweater with the sleeves rolled up, worn jeans and loafers and a dark messenger bag. It was funny watching them all strike Coolio poses as they fought for balance on the swaying bus.
Finally, there was this beautiful woman with dark brown hair, long, and a long face, lightly tanned, ice blue eyes, dressed in stylish preppy fashions (yellow Wellies, worn jeans, button-down and a rain jacket, worn leather bag) -- she was truly beautiful, looked like she could've been an airline stewardess -- like that kind of good-looking gal, like "trophy wife" kind of thing. One curious feature (hence me mentioning her at all) was that she had a scar on the left side of her face, just past the mouth, on her cheek. Who knows the story of that -- auto accident? Skiing mishap? Who knows? It probably drove her bananas, though, because she really was beautiful, and to have that amazing face scarred had to have been a real shocker -- but it was an old enough scar that she'd obviously gotten long past it. Just a curious little detail, the scarred beauty. Oh, and I think her name was Anne. I saw because she was two-fisting her telecommunication -- like an iPhone in one hand and a QWERTY cell in the other hand, and she kept alternating between them, texting on both. I saw her name on one as she was switching between communicators.
I always notice when people walk around with their ID badges hanging from their belts, too. I'd never do that, wouldn't want people knowing my name. It's like "Hey, Kevin. Howdy, Jason. Hiya, Jennifer! What's happening, Stanley?" (and their last names, too, and lord knows what else is on those photo IDs) People don't think about that, I guess. For them, it's just an ID badge. Maybe I'm just very paranoid (well, yeah), but I'd keep my ID badge out of sight until I needed it. Seeing those, I often wonder what they're doing that requires that ID badge (to his credit, Hipster Moe had his in his pocket, although the lanyard for it said TRIBUNE so the poor sod apparently works at the Trib, at least he's smart enough to keep his ID concealed). Also, as I look for new work, I wonder "Christ, am I gonna have to be sporting an ID badge on a chain, too?"
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