In the middle of the night, usually after engaging with some creative sort of thing, I take to Twitter and just begin to ramble in a disjointed way about some nagging topic that is then on my mind. This is one of those rants. 20.May, 2015. -The Management.
Finally saw Ex Machina tonight. My big take away is that it gave me what so many movies just don't. In a much different way and in a much different sense than what Mad Max did. But it is the same kind of thing.
I'm kind of in a mindplace where movies of a certain type either don't give me what I want, or give it to me in a very expected way. I got from Ex Machina and Mad Max this past week what I wanted to get from say, Inception or Prometheus, but just didn't. There are a handful of movies like that in the past couple years. It is a weird mix. Certainly it never seems to be on this level when I do.
Hard to explain what I mean when I say "on this level." I guess I always regard things like Moon and Children of Men as movies I wanted but didn't know I wanted. There's a spirit, a tone. Usually, it is not as publicized. Not as "out there" - advertised, available, etc. When it is, it is not popular.
Attempting to think of what sort of movies have done that. Dredd. Mentioned Moon, and Children of Men already. Ex Machina and Fury Road now. Silver Linings Playbook. Weirdly, The Winter Soldier. Under the Skin, maybe. Mentioning as far back as Children of Men, I'd have to add the double Eastwood threat of El Torino and Million Dollar Baby.
All of these movies reflect to me a style or a philosophy that calls back to my film school mindset. Not exactly auteur style. But close. And there have been other movies I've liked, or I've even loved in that timeline, but don't get this same, vague reaction out of me.
And see, even that doesn't work as an explanation, because I can't stick Winter Soldier in with a lot of those others. But there's a kind of storyline, a kind of storytelling, that is both simple in approach, but complex in execution. Lends to trust as a fan.
And like I said, the best I kind do is to name things I didn't get that from, that I guess I either expected to, or thought might be there? What I expected from the Prometheuses, the Avatars, and the Inceptions, I got from Ex Machina and Mad Max: Fury Road. What is that x factor? That maybe I didn't want to see this, or didn't think I did, but then I did?
Something that invoked that same feeling from, like, the first time when I watched The Conversation, or A Clockwork Orange, or Taxi Driver. But I want to say it has something to do with being pulled into someone else's indulgences.
Anyway. Ex Machina. Would recommend. Will definitely re-watch. It is 3:30 and I am wired after seeing it. Well done.
A new look.
Have been meaning to do this for a while. I've had a few conversations lately with some friends, and speaking honestly I always seemed to produce more when I had this space to work in.
I've added sidebar links for Justin, Staci, and Glen's blogs, ripping liberally from Justin's own buttons he designed [thanks, and sorry, man]. Would like to add a few more, and get a proper Blog Roll too, but I'm tired, and a cursory glance isn't showing me anything I love right off. Couple of things I'd like to change in the coding of this template too, but it'll be touch and go for a while.
Any critiques, comments on the changes would be helpful, of course. Something that you're just not crazy about, I might be able to fix.
Hoping this all means I'm on the edge of something. Guess we'll see.
I've added sidebar links for Justin, Staci, and Glen's blogs, ripping liberally from Justin's own buttons he designed [thanks, and sorry, man]. Would like to add a few more, and get a proper Blog Roll too, but I'm tired, and a cursory glance isn't showing me anything I love right off. Couple of things I'd like to change in the coding of this template too, but it'll be touch and go for a while.
Any critiques, comments on the changes would be helpful, of course. Something that you're just not crazy about, I might be able to fix.
Hoping this all means I'm on the edge of something. Guess we'll see.
Help my friend, my muse, Lex Friedman.
I know this has sort of become a blog where I only post when friends of mine need help. But honestly, I can't think of any better way it could be used.
This Lex Friedman, she was in an accident recently, broke her femur - I only found out today. She's an amazing actor - she has a huge heart, and I've been lucky enough to call her a friend. She's also... it is hard to explain, if you've never met someone who inspires you, but, for instance, as lovely as the headshot is I've posted here, it's not how I think of her - there's this vibrant, active, bright light there, and on more than one occasion I've attempted to capture it in my own work, capture this larger than life personality, this capacity for love and action and strength. Lex has been kind enough to humor me through it all too.
Other friends of hers have set up this GoFundMe page - http://www.gofundme.com/helplex - to help her get through this very trying time, as she recovers from her injury. I'd consider it a personal favor if you'd look, share, give if you can - I know it's a hard time of year to ask for money, but this is one of the best causes, best people I know.
And thank you.
This Lex Friedman, she was in an accident recently, broke her femur - I only found out today. She's an amazing actor - she has a huge heart, and I've been lucky enough to call her a friend. She's also... it is hard to explain, if you've never met someone who inspires you, but, for instance, as lovely as the headshot is I've posted here, it's not how I think of her - there's this vibrant, active, bright light there, and on more than one occasion I've attempted to capture it in my own work, capture this larger than life personality, this capacity for love and action and strength. Lex has been kind enough to humor me through it all too.
Other friends of hers have set up this GoFundMe page - http://www.gofundme.com/helplex - to help her get through this very trying time, as she recovers from her injury. I'd consider it a personal favor if you'd look, share, give if you can - I know it's a hard time of year to ask for money, but this is one of the best causes, best people I know.
And thank you.
Help me help those who took me in.
The happy couple below are who I fondly refer to as my other mother and other father, Lauri and Ruben Roman.
Lauri and Ruben are two of the most kind, crazy, and loving people I know - which, for me is really saying something. In college, so often they were my holidays, the brought me into their home, showed me some of the many secrets that both New York and New England hide from the typical tourist, and made me feel like I had roots somewhere other than the "holler" I came from. Yes, at the time I was dating the wonderful daughter Samantha, but even after that, they've always made me feel welcome and loved, have met other girlfriends, and called and written and sent gifts during the holidays. I've always felt like my family is shrinking - death, divorce, all of that - but Lauri and Ruben and what they've done for me is one of only a handful of times [along my mother remarrying, and my kid brother being born] I can proudly say it grew.
They have been limping along, but managing, like so many of us, for some time. But like every single one person living pay check to pay check, it only takes one more unexpected thing on the pile, and it can leave your entire future in doubt. Their landlord has notified them that their current place of residence will soon be sold, and they are looking to raise the first and last month of rent, along with a security deposit so they can move. I know they hate having to ask. But they shouldn't feel the least bit bad - I'm sure we all agree, we all need help sometimes.
I'd consider it a person favor to me from anyone who can help them out during this particularly hard time. The link to their account can be found here or by clicking the picture above. And if you can't give, if you can spread the word, I'd appreciate that too.
Lauri and Ruben are two of the most kind, crazy, and loving people I know - which, for me is really saying something. In college, so often they were my holidays, the brought me into their home, showed me some of the many secrets that both New York and New England hide from the typical tourist, and made me feel like I had roots somewhere other than the "holler" I came from. Yes, at the time I was dating the wonderful daughter Samantha, but even after that, they've always made me feel welcome and loved, have met other girlfriends, and called and written and sent gifts during the holidays. I've always felt like my family is shrinking - death, divorce, all of that - but Lauri and Ruben and what they've done for me is one of only a handful of times [along my mother remarrying, and my kid brother being born] I can proudly say it grew.
They have been limping along, but managing, like so many of us, for some time. But like every single one person living pay check to pay check, it only takes one more unexpected thing on the pile, and it can leave your entire future in doubt. Their landlord has notified them that their current place of residence will soon be sold, and they are looking to raise the first and last month of rent, along with a security deposit so they can move. I know they hate having to ask. But they shouldn't feel the least bit bad - I'm sure we all agree, we all need help sometimes.
I'd consider it a person favor to me from anyone who can help them out during this particularly hard time. The link to their account can be found here or by clicking the picture above. And if you can't give, if you can spread the word, I'd appreciate that too.
Friday the 13th - Wrath of the Kill-ver Fish.
I have a superstitious streak. Which is weird because, you know, avowed atheist and believer in the absolute cruel randomness of the universe. Yaaay.
Justin came over to play some Magic and just hang out - we hadn't gotten the opportunity to lately [and by the way, if you want to see some amazing comic work, you should head over to his site to check out why - he's doing some amazing and innovative work right now when it comes to developing and coloring comics. If what he's doing works out, and I'm more than sure it will, he'll be making some big waves one day], and I promised him I'd dig out a handful of old Swamp Thing comics from the Moore years that I had doubles of. He's wanted to get a better look at the coloring, which isn't printed in nearly the same way these days, even when the big collections and omnibus editions are put out.
I dug out a few long boxes, but was having trouble finding them. There's this place, like a cubby or a hidey-hole under what would be... the desk, I guess in my room, which I stuck about six long boxes in to maximize space in my... let's go with modest... living quarters. What I pulled out were a bunch of moist, chewed up boxes, falling apart as I tried to pick them up, and dropping out comics pulped in the wrong sense of the word.
A wet wall. Comic books full of silverfish.
...silverfish.
As gross goes, it doesn't get much worse. Tiny translucent land shrimp that eat paper and adhesive, and like nothing better than to chow down on one of the things I love the most in this world. Plus, they bring centipedes in, which are... frightening and loud and far bigger than any bug should be [seriously, how are folks afraid of spiders with shit like this in the world?]. They're pretty much one of the biggest bads of the comic collecting world, one I fought, one my mom hated about my particular hobby, one of the reasons part of my collection was bent out of shape when I switched for a while to Rubbermaid tubs instead of long boxes...
Anyway, I freaked a little, repeating myself, edge of a panic attack [been a bit, old friend], etc. - Justin's always pretty well got his head together though, and having him there to help pull things together with me mentally, hold the light, the trash bags [sob]. With his help, I managed to get everything out of there, and sorted enough that I could clean up the mess, hang some cedar, get the comics in a place to be properly gone through, to see what survived.
Look, I have always said my comic collection was a reader's collection. Dad's was too, and when he passed and I got his comics, the bends, the tears, the nicotine stains... they were a pleasant reminder of him. Sure, growing up in the 90s, I have heard every rationalization for shucking materialism, but I don't buy it. I just don't. We put parts of ourselves in things. Some of them we make, some of them we purchase. Some we share, some we don't. That doesn't mean we all have to be hoarders.
Even though now I'm dealing with a hoarder's problem.
Going through the contents of the six boxes, I've by and large lucked out. Everything of mine and dad's was mostly bagged and sealed, keeping the moisture and the bugs out. Most of what was in the boxes that were under there were only technically a part of either of our collections - a friend of my father's sold us a rather large lot of comics on the cheap from the sports store he once ran. We really only planned to pick and choose from these to supplement some of the holes in our collections from a stint of particularly hard financial times, and everything else was boxed again and tucked away. Dad held on to them, and then they passed to me. Most were monuments to the worst of the 90s - softcore porn, Image comic ripoffs, loads of the manga Dark Horse attempted selling on a monthly basis [now, call me softy, but I still mourn for them. The thing about making comics is that there is a small place in your heart that knows the work that goes in to even the worst, and keeps you from *completely* hating anything], and few if any were ever read by either of us - we wanted the Green Lantern and Avengers and Thor we wound up bagging and slipping into our own unfinished collections, which were fine, as were the Swamp Things I was looking for - they weren't under there after all, instead stacked up off the ground.
I'm not saying that nothing important was lost - a few bags were compromised, and one of the boxes had newer stuff in it [for some reason - newer stuff is usually kept off the floor so I can get at it], meaning a handful of copies of "The Boys," "Ex Machina," some Dan Jurgens Captain America, and a few copies of the Cassandra Cain "Batgirl" will need to be repurchased. Which means, fixable, in a way, but still heartbreaking.
And all of this - all of it, is embarrassing too. I always held myself up as better than this, a "good collector." I don't think much about geek cred, and again, reader's collection, I never meant to sell any of this, but in a way, its worse, because that's a lower bar and I still screwed it up. Thanks to some unexpected payments for work I did in the past, though, the new corrugated plastic boxes are on their way, and some resealable bags and cardboard backs too. Time to get the bulk of the collection back in protective shape, which should be easy with the extra time, since with grandma's health [another story for another time], she's been of a keener mind when I'm closer, just in case.
So I'll be taking the time, letting myself poke back around into the stories I love and grew up with, making sure what wasn't stored in that soggy hellhole won't ever be in danger of the same thing happening, and what was and survived the experience will never have to face it again. I think even some of these comics might be unloaded, sold, donated, something, to give myself more room, and make sure my focus is on the memories that are most important, and maybe share some of these them with others.
I don't know. We'll see how it goes. Hoping it won't take over my life.
Happy Friday the 13th. And Happy Father's Day.
I'm sorry, dad.
Justin came over to play some Magic and just hang out - we hadn't gotten the opportunity to lately [and by the way, if you want to see some amazing comic work, you should head over to his site to check out why - he's doing some amazing and innovative work right now when it comes to developing and coloring comics. If what he's doing works out, and I'm more than sure it will, he'll be making some big waves one day], and I promised him I'd dig out a handful of old Swamp Thing comics from the Moore years that I had doubles of. He's wanted to get a better look at the coloring, which isn't printed in nearly the same way these days, even when the big collections and omnibus editions are put out.
I dug out a few long boxes, but was having trouble finding them. There's this place, like a cubby or a hidey-hole under what would be... the desk, I guess in my room, which I stuck about six long boxes in to maximize space in my... let's go with modest... living quarters. What I pulled out were a bunch of moist, chewed up boxes, falling apart as I tried to pick them up, and dropping out comics pulped in the wrong sense of the word.
A wet wall. Comic books full of silverfish.
...silverfish.
As gross goes, it doesn't get much worse. Tiny translucent land shrimp that eat paper and adhesive, and like nothing better than to chow down on one of the things I love the most in this world. Plus, they bring centipedes in, which are... frightening and loud and far bigger than any bug should be [seriously, how are folks afraid of spiders with shit like this in the world?]. They're pretty much one of the biggest bads of the comic collecting world, one I fought, one my mom hated about my particular hobby, one of the reasons part of my collection was bent out of shape when I switched for a while to Rubbermaid tubs instead of long boxes...
Anyway, I freaked a little, repeating myself, edge of a panic attack [been a bit, old friend], etc. - Justin's always pretty well got his head together though, and having him there to help pull things together with me mentally, hold the light, the trash bags [sob]. With his help, I managed to get everything out of there, and sorted enough that I could clean up the mess, hang some cedar, get the comics in a place to be properly gone through, to see what survived.
Look, I have always said my comic collection was a reader's collection. Dad's was too, and when he passed and I got his comics, the bends, the tears, the nicotine stains... they were a pleasant reminder of him. Sure, growing up in the 90s, I have heard every rationalization for shucking materialism, but I don't buy it. I just don't. We put parts of ourselves in things. Some of them we make, some of them we purchase. Some we share, some we don't. That doesn't mean we all have to be hoarders.
Even though now I'm dealing with a hoarder's problem.
Going through the contents of the six boxes, I've by and large lucked out. Everything of mine and dad's was mostly bagged and sealed, keeping the moisture and the bugs out. Most of what was in the boxes that were under there were only technically a part of either of our collections - a friend of my father's sold us a rather large lot of comics on the cheap from the sports store he once ran. We really only planned to pick and choose from these to supplement some of the holes in our collections from a stint of particularly hard financial times, and everything else was boxed again and tucked away. Dad held on to them, and then they passed to me. Most were monuments to the worst of the 90s - softcore porn, Image comic ripoffs, loads of the manga Dark Horse attempted selling on a monthly basis [now, call me softy, but I still mourn for them. The thing about making comics is that there is a small place in your heart that knows the work that goes in to even the worst, and keeps you from *completely* hating anything], and few if any were ever read by either of us - we wanted the Green Lantern and Avengers and Thor we wound up bagging and slipping into our own unfinished collections, which were fine, as were the Swamp Things I was looking for - they weren't under there after all, instead stacked up off the ground.
I'm not saying that nothing important was lost - a few bags were compromised, and one of the boxes had newer stuff in it [for some reason - newer stuff is usually kept off the floor so I can get at it], meaning a handful of copies of "The Boys," "Ex Machina," some Dan Jurgens Captain America, and a few copies of the Cassandra Cain "Batgirl" will need to be repurchased. Which means, fixable, in a way, but still heartbreaking.
And all of this - all of it, is embarrassing too. I always held myself up as better than this, a "good collector." I don't think much about geek cred, and again, reader's collection, I never meant to sell any of this, but in a way, its worse, because that's a lower bar and I still screwed it up. Thanks to some unexpected payments for work I did in the past, though, the new corrugated plastic boxes are on their way, and some resealable bags and cardboard backs too. Time to get the bulk of the collection back in protective shape, which should be easy with the extra time, since with grandma's health [another story for another time], she's been of a keener mind when I'm closer, just in case.
So I'll be taking the time, letting myself poke back around into the stories I love and grew up with, making sure what wasn't stored in that soggy hellhole won't ever be in danger of the same thing happening, and what was and survived the experience will never have to face it again. I think even some of these comics might be unloaded, sold, donated, something, to give myself more room, and make sure my focus is on the memories that are most important, and maybe share some of these them with others.
I don't know. We'll see how it goes. Hoping it won't take over my life.
Happy Friday the 13th. And Happy Father's Day.
I'm sorry, dad.
21 Others: First Revised Edition
Certainly far from the last.
I've been fairly busy this week with the proper jobs in my life, but that didn't take some time to go through and fix some of the problems that plagued the game in the first two tests. I feel like I've addressed some of the biggest concerns of the game, particularly as it concerns some the vestigial elements I mentioned last time, fleshing some out and removing some others. Six cards have been eliminated from the deck completely [I'd like to add four cards in their place, but one step at a time, I figure], and I reprinted several cards with clearer... I guess instructions would be the word to use. I guess that's yet another swipe from MTG - "if it's written on the card, it's the rule."
I changed the names of a couple things too. Wanted to give a shout out to the lady who gave me the most helpful suggest last time through.
There's a possibility I might get another test in on Monday at my friend Caitlin's birthday, which I guess was the reason for wedging this in when I had things I should have been paying more attention to.
The only regrettable part about all of this is, for at least right now, the game is 3-21 players. The 2 player mode just raised too many questions, and is something I'm going to try and figure out later on down the line. I've thought about possibly hosting some sort of event here at my house [I have a long table, in an attempt to get some other people who are more at my skill level or lower with games to give it a shot too, hopefully with some hardcore table-toppers thrown in the mix.
I've been fairly busy this week with the proper jobs in my life, but that didn't take some time to go through and fix some of the problems that plagued the game in the first two tests. I feel like I've addressed some of the biggest concerns of the game, particularly as it concerns some the vestigial elements I mentioned last time, fleshing some out and removing some others. Six cards have been eliminated from the deck completely [I'd like to add four cards in their place, but one step at a time, I figure], and I reprinted several cards with clearer... I guess instructions would be the word to use. I guess that's yet another swipe from MTG - "if it's written on the card, it's the rule."
I changed the names of a couple things too. Wanted to give a shout out to the lady who gave me the most helpful suggest last time through.
There's a possibility I might get another test in on Monday at my friend Caitlin's birthday, which I guess was the reason for wedging this in when I had things I should have been paying more attention to.
The only regrettable part about all of this is, for at least right now, the game is 3-21 players. The 2 player mode just raised too many questions, and is something I'm going to try and figure out later on down the line. I've thought about possibly hosting some sort of event here at my house [I have a long table, in an attempt to get some other people who are more at my skill level or lower with games to give it a shot too, hopefully with some hardcore table-toppers thrown in the mix.
21 Others - First Play Test
Thanks to the help and enthusiasm of Terry Bartley, I was graciously invited to play test my card tonight with his games group. They usually get together for a D&D campaign, or a new board game, but were incredibly generous to give up one night and their tabletop to play the first two games of "21 Others" - as well as give me a lot of really great feedback about the game. All these guys were veterans when it came to gaming too, so their feedback had a lot of good stuff, a lot of stuff I can, and will, use. The "special thanks: for this game is building up fast.
I was a bit on edge during play. I've never really had problems getting feedback on my work, but with a game, it is just so much different, watching people engage with what you've produced, and getting to engage with it to, with them, and sort of feel all the various successes and frustrations in real time.Very exciting. A little terrifying. But they were such a great group.
Got a game going with seven players, tweaked the rules a little the first time, at the behest of those at the table, and really got into the play of the game. Right now, it looks like a good game would come in close to an hour long, which seems okay, seems like something people would be okay with, in practice at least. That's probably the biggest relief - overstaying my welcome with a hardcore group of tabletoppers would official be a death knell for this, but I feel like my little game passed that test, and am pretty heartened by that.
I have about four pages of notes in my garbage short-hand, well less "notes" and more cues to the problems that we run into while playing, and a couple of more in-depth things which were immediate improvements on play. There were more than a couple of "why didn't I think of that?" moments too, which are lovely and humbling - and a lot of things were pointed out to me, underdeveloped things, things I wasn't sure if I'd use, which for some reason I kept calling "vestigial tails" out loud [because I just couldn't stop saying "vestigial"], which I think I can develop, which I think I have to develop further - opportunities to reach out beyond my "keep it simple, stupid" philosophy a bit.
There is one play mechanic that seemed... wildly off, really unpleasant for folks, and from the comments, most definitely flawed, and I may actually focus just on overhauling it for the next week or so, maybe even before the next play test. I'll keep you updated.
I'd like to thank everyone again, too. Feel like I've shaken a lot of my dread now, and I might be able to hunker down and actually make a game people will have fun playing.
"21 Others" Games Played Count: 2
I was a bit on edge during play. I've never really had problems getting feedback on my work, but with a game, it is just so much different, watching people engage with what you've produced, and getting to engage with it to, with them, and sort of feel all the various successes and frustrations in real time.Very exciting. A little terrifying. But they were such a great group.
Got a game going with seven players, tweaked the rules a little the first time, at the behest of those at the table, and really got into the play of the game. Right now, it looks like a good game would come in close to an hour long, which seems okay, seems like something people would be okay with, in practice at least. That's probably the biggest relief - overstaying my welcome with a hardcore group of tabletoppers would official be a death knell for this, but I feel like my little game passed that test, and am pretty heartened by that.
I have about four pages of notes in my garbage short-hand, well less "notes" and more cues to the problems that we run into while playing, and a couple of more in-depth things which were immediate improvements on play. There were more than a couple of "why didn't I think of that?" moments too, which are lovely and humbling - and a lot of things were pointed out to me, underdeveloped things, things I wasn't sure if I'd use, which for some reason I kept calling "vestigial tails" out loud [because I just couldn't stop saying "vestigial"], which I think I can develop, which I think I have to develop further - opportunities to reach out beyond my "keep it simple, stupid" philosophy a bit.
There is one play mechanic that seemed... wildly off, really unpleasant for folks, and from the comments, most definitely flawed, and I may actually focus just on overhauling it for the next week or so, maybe even before the next play test. I'll keep you updated.
I'd like to thank everyone again, too. Feel like I've shaken a lot of my dread now, and I might be able to hunker down and actually make a game people will have fun playing.
"21 Others" Games Played Count: 2
Prototype of a Prototype.
Wasn't that what Protoman was?
Anyway. Finished putting my little card game together Thursday night, everything was printed, sleeved, and generally looks too much like bootleg Magic the Gathering for my tastes, but... what I have is a box full of cards that is play-testable, and that's the most important thing. I think I've managed to stir up some excitement in my friends Caitlin, Terry, and Trinh, as they seem ready to help me out with the testing part of it, which is very kind of them.
More than anything, their enthusiasm when I told them, along with a string of "LIKEs" on Facebook have brightened my spirits considerably. As I get closer to actually playing it out with people, I'm not sure if I'm nervous, or just a little sick of working on it and goldfishing it out in my head theoretically, but a lot of Friday night was just... dread. I want to work out the kinks, I want the game to be fun, be interesting. And everything's moved so smoothly. Makes me nervous.
Tonight I polished off the rules and gave the game a nice little intro. It occurred me I hadn't checked in here about how things were going, so I thought I might do that.
Even though I've got people to play test with, naturally, anyone else interested in also trying it out are welcome to contact me, come hang out, play a few games. If you're one of my people located around the world, and wouldn't mind playing it with some friends, I'm open to that too - of course, it would be a little intensive - there are 205 cards in all, which is a lot of printing and cutting, all of which needs to be done on card stock, or sleeved up in El Cheapo Deck Protectors. Still, if you're willing to put in the effort to check out my little brainchild...
Might get to play as soon as this week. Will report back.
Anyway. Finished putting my little card game together Thursday night, everything was printed, sleeved, and generally looks too much like bootleg Magic the Gathering for my tastes, but... what I have is a box full of cards that is play-testable, and that's the most important thing. I think I've managed to stir up some excitement in my friends Caitlin, Terry, and Trinh, as they seem ready to help me out with the testing part of it, which is very kind of them.
More than anything, their enthusiasm when I told them, along with a string of "LIKEs" on Facebook have brightened my spirits considerably. As I get closer to actually playing it out with people, I'm not sure if I'm nervous, or just a little sick of working on it and goldfishing it out in my head theoretically, but a lot of Friday night was just... dread. I want to work out the kinks, I want the game to be fun, be interesting. And everything's moved so smoothly. Makes me nervous.
Tonight I polished off the rules and gave the game a nice little intro. It occurred me I hadn't checked in here about how things were going, so I thought I might do that.
Even though I've got people to play test with, naturally, anyone else interested in also trying it out are welcome to contact me, come hang out, play a few games. If you're one of my people located around the world, and wouldn't mind playing it with some friends, I'm open to that too - of course, it would be a little intensive - there are 205 cards in all, which is a lot of printing and cutting, all of which needs to be done on card stock, or sleeved up in El Cheapo Deck Protectors. Still, if you're willing to put in the effort to check out my little brainchild...
Might get to play as soon as this week. Will report back.
Not Just the Name of The Kinks song.
I spent roughly four hours scrawling out information on note cards last Friday night, when I realized, you know, there's a much easier way to mock up these cards that won't make it feel like my hand is breaking.
One of the big inspirations for making this card game was "Magic: The Gathering," a hobby I rediscovered a few years back. One of my favorite things about the Magic cards is the flavor text, and it's a concept I stole almost completely for mine. I've always been charmed by alternative storytelling, and the fact that Wizards of the Coasts manages to make a long-running trading card game that is both functional, and hints at, even outright tells an overarching story while sticking to various, sometimes contradictory themes over time has always been amazing to me. I can't claim that my forays into flavor text this time does anything nearly as amazing as what WotC often does, but as a first go, I've been pretty pleased, and if I entertain no one else by the time this project succeeds or fails, the bad jokes, plays on words, stupid puns, and endless hours spent in, of all things, a pocket thesaurus, has been a lot of fun for me.
So, as much as I don't want to get sued by my heroes, I downloaded the freeware "Magic Set Editor" and took a couple of nights to leisurely use their templates to do functional mock-ups of my own cards, and then ordered about... 300 Super El Cheapo card sleeves, so I don't have to worry about the first cards I make being hard to shuffle or see-thru. What I've ended up with is something that has all the necessary information to play with, a good little color-coding system, and a design-style I WILL IN NO WAY BE KEEPING, as I am only using these to test out the actual play of the game with friends, to help fine tune the rules, see what works, what doesn't, and what needs added, and what needs to go.
The nice thing about the MSE template is that it lets me get all my information for play in there, there's already a place for Flavor text, and it'll make any changes in the early stages relatively easy. The downside is, it'll look even more like a MTG rip-off while on the table, which I'm not wild about, except more bland because there are zero illustrations.
Of course, if I continue to go forward with this, I will need to find an artist to not only design the card illustrations themselves, but also the card borders, so this isn't exactly anything that wasn't already planned for. I just think my original idea, with the note cards, was to give the people who I eventually play tested this with sort a blank slate kind of feeling, so I could get at their feelings of what they were picturing, projecting on the cards themselves, and now having the immediate relation to the MTG frames is a little... disheartening. Useful? Yes. Mostly in my head? Entirely.
I took another run at the rules last night, eliminated one big play mechanic, but nothing gone is ever gone forever at this point. Honestly, having as many rules as I have right now really feels to me like a betrayal of my "Keep it Simple, Stupid" mindset, so there could be further changes like this even in the next couple of days.
End count is a whopping 205 cards. I'd be printing them now, rather than writing about them here, except I'm all out of printer ink. Waiting for gods of Amazon and Epson to smile on me, and deliver unto their servant the tools needed in which to make his art.
From there, it'll be about 30 pages worth of printing [probably double that after I screw up a few times], and then I'll whip out the paper cutter Sarah gifted me with a few years back. And then... play tests! Which I'm hoping Terry and Caitlin and whoever else I can get on board to help out with this will be willing to suffer through.
Stay tuned.
One of the big inspirations for making this card game was "Magic: The Gathering," a hobby I rediscovered a few years back. One of my favorite things about the Magic cards is the flavor text, and it's a concept I stole almost completely for mine. I've always been charmed by alternative storytelling, and the fact that Wizards of the Coasts manages to make a long-running trading card game that is both functional, and hints at, even outright tells an overarching story while sticking to various, sometimes contradictory themes over time has always been amazing to me. I can't claim that my forays into flavor text this time does anything nearly as amazing as what WotC often does, but as a first go, I've been pretty pleased, and if I entertain no one else by the time this project succeeds or fails, the bad jokes, plays on words, stupid puns, and endless hours spent in, of all things, a pocket thesaurus, has been a lot of fun for me.
So, as much as I don't want to get sued by my heroes, I downloaded the freeware "Magic Set Editor" and took a couple of nights to leisurely use their templates to do functional mock-ups of my own cards, and then ordered about... 300 Super El Cheapo card sleeves, so I don't have to worry about the first cards I make being hard to shuffle or see-thru. What I've ended up with is something that has all the necessary information to play with, a good little color-coding system, and a design-style I WILL IN NO WAY BE KEEPING, as I am only using these to test out the actual play of the game with friends, to help fine tune the rules, see what works, what doesn't, and what needs added, and what needs to go.
The nice thing about the MSE template is that it lets me get all my information for play in there, there's already a place for Flavor text, and it'll make any changes in the early stages relatively easy. The downside is, it'll look even more like a MTG rip-off while on the table, which I'm not wild about, except more bland because there are zero illustrations.
Of course, if I continue to go forward with this, I will need to find an artist to not only design the card illustrations themselves, but also the card borders, so this isn't exactly anything that wasn't already planned for. I just think my original idea, with the note cards, was to give the people who I eventually play tested this with sort a blank slate kind of feeling, so I could get at their feelings of what they were picturing, projecting on the cards themselves, and now having the immediate relation to the MTG frames is a little... disheartening. Useful? Yes. Mostly in my head? Entirely.
I took another run at the rules last night, eliminated one big play mechanic, but nothing gone is ever gone forever at this point. Honestly, having as many rules as I have right now really feels to me like a betrayal of my "Keep it Simple, Stupid" mindset, so there could be further changes like this even in the next couple of days.
End count is a whopping 205 cards. I'd be printing them now, rather than writing about them here, except I'm all out of printer ink. Waiting for gods of Amazon and Epson to smile on me, and deliver unto their servant the tools needed in which to make his art.
From there, it'll be about 30 pages worth of printing [probably double that after I screw up a few times], and then I'll whip out the paper cutter Sarah gifted me with a few years back. And then... play tests! Which I'm hoping Terry and Caitlin and whoever else I can get on board to help out with this will be willing to suffer through.
Stay tuned.
Cards - done [sorta].
Well, more or less. There are some small things I need to do, and I'm contemplating adding six more cards [because apparently I'm as masochist], but tonight I finished the bulk of the cards that make up the gameplay aspect of my card game. The next part is mocking up the cards, so the game can actually be tested - I have some rules that I like for it, pretty well set down, but I also have a few extra things, minor changes I might try after playtesting a bit.
Of course, the next part is going to be a bit tedious, since I actually think I might write out the cards by hand instead of attempting to print them on my own. There are probably much easier ways to do it, but this will at least give me a chance to make sure there are no redundancies, and won't leave me with yet more hours in front of a computer screen as I try to figure out all the necessary measurements and margins.
Anyway, just a short post to commemorate the occasion.
A family friend died this past weekend, and honestly, this feels a bit bittersweet, considering. But I might have reason to remember getting this far with 21 Others, so I wanted to make some kind of post about it.
Of course, the next part is going to be a bit tedious, since I actually think I might write out the cards by hand instead of attempting to print them on my own. There are probably much easier ways to do it, but this will at least give me a chance to make sure there are no redundancies, and won't leave me with yet more hours in front of a computer screen as I try to figure out all the necessary measurements and margins.
Anyway, just a short post to commemorate the occasion.
A family friend died this past weekend, and honestly, this feels a bit bittersweet, considering. But I might have reason to remember getting this far with 21 Others, so I wanted to make some kind of post about it.
The Rules
The game is coming along pretty soundly. I have about 15 cards left to finish writing, which is one of those things that gets harder as you go along, because of the kind of... I guess hyper focus it takes to make things fit in the last few spots I have free. Taking a quick break tonight, and I'm actually going to try and hammer the last of them out.
The other big thing I did was write the game's Rules. They fit on a single page, and are less than 600 words, which I think is good. I'm trying to keep things simple, and understandable, and I'd like to sweat a little more out of that, somewhere south of 500 words on how to play the game. Shouldn't be too difficult.
I did hit my one big snag when I sat down to write the conditions in which you actually win this little card game I've put together. From the beginning, I kind of wanted a situation where, on some occasions, no one would win the game - kind of a little message about what grabs for power could get you. And I have that, and the appropriate situations where there's a definitive winner...but also one set of conditions that is somewhere in-between, which I'm worried will be unsatisfying in the long run, especially if one of the players at the table opts to be a spoiler.
I don't know. I'm just sweating it. I should wait until I get to play test a bit, which means finishing the main cards so it can be played. It is, after all, just a first draft.
An aside, thanks to everyone who chimed in about naming kingdoms. Will be diving into that soon too.
The other big thing I did was write the game's Rules. They fit on a single page, and are less than 600 words, which I think is good. I'm trying to keep things simple, and understandable, and I'd like to sweat a little more out of that, somewhere south of 500 words on how to play the game. Shouldn't be too difficult.
I did hit my one big snag when I sat down to write the conditions in which you actually win this little card game I've put together. From the beginning, I kind of wanted a situation where, on some occasions, no one would win the game - kind of a little message about what grabs for power could get you. And I have that, and the appropriate situations where there's a definitive winner...but also one set of conditions that is somewhere in-between, which I'm worried will be unsatisfying in the long run, especially if one of the players at the table opts to be a spoiler.
I don't know. I'm just sweating it. I should wait until I get to play test a bit, which means finishing the main cards so it can be played. It is, after all, just a first draft.
An aside, thanks to everyone who chimed in about naming kingdoms. Will be diving into that soon too.
"The View From a Tree in The Zombie Apocalypse" in Non Finito Magazine
My short story about the fall of civilization, the coming rise of the undead, and the existence of the world's most famous cryptid was featured yesterday on Non Finito Magazine. Non Finito is the pet project of a great friend and previous collaborator of mine, Sam Roman. Here's a short excerpt:
Click on through to read the rest, and make sure to share with your friends. And while you're at it, you should submit to Non Finito too - Sam's always looking for new creators, especially ones looking for a space for those bits of art we sometimes have trouble finding a place for - those things left rough, unfinished, or raw. You can see the magazine's submission guidelines here, as well as their contact information.
Thanks, Sam.
A lot of my friends said they were ready for this. Some of them claimed they were even ready for this, specifically. Which would seem ludicrous, and was then, but you know, not so much now. So some of them had escape plans. One guy learned to fire a gun. Another bought a crossbow. I think some of the more pragmatic ones stored water. That spaceman food, the powdered stuff, batteries, canned peaches. Seriously, one of my friends, the one everyone thought was the most responsible of us, had an attic full of guns, and canned peaches.
So yeah. A lot of my friends said they were ready for this. Which is funny to me now, because I haven’t run into too many of them. That were, you know, talkative, smug, and surviving, instead of murderous, decaying, and trying to eat me. Which is a shame, because some company would be nice. Someone to talk to. Even the self-satisfied, “I told you so”-types. Especially up in these damn trees.
Click on through to read the rest, and make sure to share with your friends. And while you're at it, you should submit to Non Finito too - Sam's always looking for new creators, especially ones looking for a space for those bits of art we sometimes have trouble finding a place for - those things left rough, unfinished, or raw. You can see the magazine's submission guidelines here, as well as their contact information.
Thanks, Sam.
How in the hell do they name these places?
After having quite a bit to drink on Friday night, and then piling two oddly-timed power outages on top of that, this weekend has been something of a haze. And yet, still work has been done.
This card game is starting to look mostly like a way to enable my Wikipedia addiction. To compound things, I've always enjoyed following the citation as much as actually perusing the articles, which is probably the closest thing we have to Alice's rabbit hole that isn't a psychotropic drug. Over the past several days I've racked up a web history ranging from the Greek city states to medieval methods of torture and execution, to what names were innovated by Shakespeare [an odd gap for me, since I actually studied those plays pretty extensively in college].
Oh, names. I'm been compiling kingdoms for this game, and there's one aspect of fantasy literature I just cannot wrap my head around - how in the hell they name these places. I once again like I screwed myself for not taking Latin or German or something at some point, so I could actually come up with something that was sort of... fun, airy, but evocative. Magic comes up with "Lorwyn" or "Innistrad" and Tolkien comes up with "Mirkwood" and "Gondor" and I... sit on great little gems like "Edgewood," "Riverport," and "Hilltop." None of which really fit what I'm doing now. And typically, when I think I've finally come up with something sort of interesting, I remember, no, wait, I've stolen it from an SNES RPG.
So if anyone has any nifty tips and tricks for coming up with names for fantasy kingdoms, I'd appreciate it.
For the game mechanics themselves, I'm still sticking pretty close to "Keep It Simple, Stupid" as I develop, though I've thrown a couple of extra things in just since Friday that sort of excite me, and that I can't goldfish out myself to see if they work or not. They feel like things that, if they don't work, they can be easily removed, but if they do have the interactions I expect... they'll become the most important part of my game. A off-handed suggestion by Justin kind of cracked things open for me, so I think the thanks have to go to him for any work I did this weekend.
This card game is starting to look mostly like a way to enable my Wikipedia addiction. To compound things, I've always enjoyed following the citation as much as actually perusing the articles, which is probably the closest thing we have to Alice's rabbit hole that isn't a psychotropic drug. Over the past several days I've racked up a web history ranging from the Greek city states to medieval methods of torture and execution, to what names were innovated by Shakespeare [an odd gap for me, since I actually studied those plays pretty extensively in college].
Oh, names. I'm been compiling kingdoms for this game, and there's one aspect of fantasy literature I just cannot wrap my head around - how in the hell they name these places. I once again like I screwed myself for not taking Latin or German or something at some point, so I could actually come up with something that was sort of... fun, airy, but evocative. Magic comes up with "Lorwyn" or "Innistrad" and Tolkien comes up with "Mirkwood" and "Gondor" and I... sit on great little gems like "Edgewood," "Riverport," and "Hilltop." None of which really fit what I'm doing now. And typically, when I think I've finally come up with something sort of interesting, I remember, no, wait, I've stolen it from an SNES RPG.
So if anyone has any nifty tips and tricks for coming up with names for fantasy kingdoms, I'd appreciate it.
For the game mechanics themselves, I'm still sticking pretty close to "Keep It Simple, Stupid" as I develop, though I've thrown a couple of extra things in just since Friday that sort of excite me, and that I can't goldfish out myself to see if they work or not. They feel like things that, if they don't work, they can be easily removed, but if they do have the interactions I expect... they'll become the most important part of my game. A off-handed suggestion by Justin kind of cracked things open for me, so I think the thanks have to go to him for any work I did this weekend.
Cameos, or loose approximations of.
Though I was fairly busy with review work all this weekend, several of my better opportunities to procrastinate went to tooling on the card game. Since this is my first foray into making any kind of tabletop game, I've tried to stick to the pat yet useful principle of "Keep it Simple, Stupid" - I figure the more complicated I make this thing, the longer it will take, the more mistakes which will be made. I mean, what I might wind up with is something downright unplayable or too easy, or... something, and as much as I tend to think if you're going to fail, then fail big, I'd like to wind up in the end with a game that, if not good, is at least complete.
Since I picked a fantasy theme [a lot of my escapism lately has been fantasy stuff - Red Sonja comics, SNES/PS1 RPGs, genre novels], I found an interesting way to use some of my favorite archetypes from the genre in admittedly generic [because I don't want to get sued], but I think kind of fun, ways. So far I've managed to compile a neat little list of semi-recognizable analogs, based on various characters I've listed below, with my own little twists.
1. Queen Jocasta
2. The Assassin Lightborn
3. Othello's Roderigo
4. Mary Firth
5. Jack the Ripper
6. Lady Macbeth
7. Henvy IV's Hotspur
8. Suikoden II's Ayda
9. Don Quixote
10. The Beastmaster
11. Conan the Barbarian
12. Red Sonja
13. The 300 Spartans
14. Thor
15. Santa Claus
16. The Oracles of Delphi
17. King Hamlet
18. Dolores Haze
19. Final Fantasy IV's Edward Chris von Muir
20. As You Like It's Touchstone
21. Grima Wormtongue
22. Eowyn
23. John Wiswell's Automatons
24. The Necronomicon
25. St. George the Dragon Slayer
These are mostly favorites of mine - pulled from all over, but still mostly in that fantasy vein. And while I know it seems like a lot, trust me when I say I still could use a few more, and if there's anything or anyone from those sorts of worlds that it looks like I might have missed, or you think I might want to consider, just let me know in the comments, or @ me on Twitter, or even email me at mojo.wire.productions@gmail.com. I appreciate the help in the meantime.
Since I picked a fantasy theme [a lot of my escapism lately has been fantasy stuff - Red Sonja comics, SNES/PS1 RPGs, genre novels], I found an interesting way to use some of my favorite archetypes from the genre in admittedly generic [because I don't want to get sued], but I think kind of fun, ways. So far I've managed to compile a neat little list of semi-recognizable analogs, based on various characters I've listed below, with my own little twists.
1. Queen Jocasta
2. The Assassin Lightborn
3. Othello's Roderigo
4. Mary Firth
5. Jack the Ripper
6. Lady Macbeth
7. Henvy IV's Hotspur
8. Suikoden II's Ayda
9. Don Quixote
10. The Beastmaster
11. Conan the Barbarian
12. Red Sonja
13. The 300 Spartans
14. Thor
15. Santa Claus
16. The Oracles of Delphi
17. King Hamlet
18. Dolores Haze
19. Final Fantasy IV's Edward Chris von Muir
20. As You Like It's Touchstone
21. Grima Wormtongue
22. Eowyn
23. John Wiswell's Automatons
24. The Necronomicon
25. St. George the Dragon Slayer
These are mostly favorites of mine - pulled from all over, but still mostly in that fantasy vein. And while I know it seems like a lot, trust me when I say I still could use a few more, and if there's anything or anyone from those sorts of worlds that it looks like I might have missed, or you think I might want to consider, just let me know in the comments, or @ me on Twitter, or even email me at mojo.wire.productions@gmail.com. I appreciate the help in the meantime.
Heirs, apparently.
Time to get back to this, right?
In 2013, I made a whopping six posts. There are a lot of reasons... a lot of family stuff, some depression stuff, perhaps even just the inevitable conclusion to my slow falling off with this blog. I toyed with starting again near the end of last year, but was annoyed and frustrated with my attempts to change the layout, and just generally make the site look a bit better, and more importantly, simpler than it does. Even toyed with the idea of transferring the whole thing to Wordpress instead.
Still might. Still could.
The past couple of weeks I've been doing some tabletop gaming. Barring "Magic the Gathering," and some "Cards Against Humanity," I wouldn't call myself a fan of board games, necessarily. I've actually always sort of hated them, partly because they always felt a bit like a punishment, or something that went along with other things I don't care to do, or have happen - Sequence with a girl about to dump me, my mom and I playing Uno on the way home after my college graduation, blackjack while camping. I mean, I guess Life was kind of cool, and if someone introduced me to something like North Korean High-Stakes Connect Four, maybe I could get on board [heh], but honestly, never been my scene.
But you know, good company always puts me in a good mood, and trying new things is always important, and I've found a few things about table top games I enjoy now. A friend's gift of "Timeline" was a very pleasant surprise, Sushi Go! was surprisingly fun, etc., etc., etc. I guess what really surprised me is how all the games are just mechanics that are the means to tell a story, even if that story isn't entirely linear or even much of a story. And that's kind of charmed me.
So it stands to reason that with little experience and no idea how to proceed, I've spent the past couple of days staying up until well into the wee hours of the morning developing a card game based off of this post - "With apologies to Regina Spektor, and Aaron the Moor" - just dropping about 10 heirs for what I have planning. This really is one of those times when I'm playing in a sandbox I've no real business being in, but thanks to having seen so little success with my own work, no one can really be all that critical about how I spent my free time and sleepless nights.
I'm also back to work on a comic project that came to me over a year ago, but because of aforementioned family problems, I found myself back-burning for... well, everything. And I've found a rather delightful collaborator in Glynis Mitchell, so with all this coming together, I thought getting back to the old work blog was a good idea.
In 2013, I made a whopping six posts. There are a lot of reasons... a lot of family stuff, some depression stuff, perhaps even just the inevitable conclusion to my slow falling off with this blog. I toyed with starting again near the end of last year, but was annoyed and frustrated with my attempts to change the layout, and just generally make the site look a bit better, and more importantly, simpler than it does. Even toyed with the idea of transferring the whole thing to Wordpress instead.
Still might. Still could.
The past couple of weeks I've been doing some tabletop gaming. Barring "Magic the Gathering," and some "Cards Against Humanity," I wouldn't call myself a fan of board games, necessarily. I've actually always sort of hated them, partly because they always felt a bit like a punishment, or something that went along with other things I don't care to do, or have happen - Sequence with a girl about to dump me, my mom and I playing Uno on the way home after my college graduation, blackjack while camping. I mean, I guess Life was kind of cool, and if someone introduced me to something like North Korean High-Stakes Connect Four, maybe I could get on board [heh], but honestly, never been my scene.
But you know, good company always puts me in a good mood, and trying new things is always important, and I've found a few things about table top games I enjoy now. A friend's gift of "Timeline" was a very pleasant surprise, Sushi Go! was surprisingly fun, etc., etc., etc. I guess what really surprised me is how all the games are just mechanics that are the means to tell a story, even if that story isn't entirely linear or even much of a story. And that's kind of charmed me.
So it stands to reason that with little experience and no idea how to proceed, I've spent the past couple of days staying up until well into the wee hours of the morning developing a card game based off of this post - "With apologies to Regina Spektor, and Aaron the Moor" - just dropping about 10 heirs for what I have planning. This really is one of those times when I'm playing in a sandbox I've no real business being in, but thanks to having seen so little success with my own work, no one can really be all that critical about how I spent my free time and sleepless nights.
I'm also back to work on a comic project that came to me over a year ago, but because of aforementioned family problems, I found myself back-burning for... well, everything. And I've found a rather delightful collaborator in Glynis Mitchell, so with all this coming together, I thought getting back to the old work blog was a good idea.
Social is the New Religion
"I think what frightens me about Twitter and Facebook and all other social media is that it peels back a layer privacy that we still have to assume is still there. We get to see people's thought processes, their motivations, and sometimes the downright terrifying way in which they see the world. Yet despite being given this glimpse, it's verboten to stop them, to say anything to the effect of "whoa, wait a minute... you think you're being radical, but you're being anything but. This is destructive."
"Now, I'll grant, at first blush, this seems elitist, vindictive, and perhaps most importantly, equally frightening being said aloud by me. Whenever I feel pangs about this, I recall a horrifying bit of logic I caught while up late watching the religious station, where xyz-denomination compared forcibly confronting individuals about matters of faith to pulling someone from a burning building, and about how being worried about offending them while doing so, and not being passionate, not being - I'd say pushy, they wouldn't, but I digress - would be tantamount to going into that building and saying "hey, I don't want to offend you, keep doing you're thing, but you know, your house might be on fire, you should really get out. If you want." No, they saw it as seeing someone in present danger, and needing to drag them, kicking and screaming, from an impending doom. And I suppose writing this, and wanting to do that with people I know, people who have revealed problematic things about themselves - I could see how that would be construed as the same thing.
"Now, remember for second that I actually do have some conflicting feelings on that, since I wouldn't hesitate to save someone from a fire, but if they told me "hey, you know, it seems nuts, but I want to see how this fire thing turns out" then I might think about backing off. I have to concede that sort of thinking [the thinking of our little evangelists, missionaries, crusaders, etc.] which comes to influencing, commenting on, and attempting to change people's motives, methods, and ways of thinking is deluded and horrifying. And I don't want to interject myself into people's business to save them - especially if they don't want to be saved.
"Yet sometimes I wonder, and I struggle. Because I think what bothers me about this extra layer of people we get to see sometimes is not the damage that it does to themselves, but the damage it is going to allow them to do to others."
"Now, I'll grant, at first blush, this seems elitist, vindictive, and perhaps most importantly, equally frightening being said aloud by me. Whenever I feel pangs about this, I recall a horrifying bit of logic I caught while up late watching the religious station, where xyz-denomination compared forcibly confronting individuals about matters of faith to pulling someone from a burning building, and about how being worried about offending them while doing so, and not being passionate, not being - I'd say pushy, they wouldn't, but I digress - would be tantamount to going into that building and saying "hey, I don't want to offend you, keep doing you're thing, but you know, your house might be on fire, you should really get out. If you want." No, they saw it as seeing someone in present danger, and needing to drag them, kicking and screaming, from an impending doom. And I suppose writing this, and wanting to do that with people I know, people who have revealed problematic things about themselves - I could see how that would be construed as the same thing.
"Now, remember for second that I actually do have some conflicting feelings on that, since I wouldn't hesitate to save someone from a fire, but if they told me "hey, you know, it seems nuts, but I want to see how this fire thing turns out" then I might think about backing off. I have to concede that sort of thinking [the thinking of our little evangelists, missionaries, crusaders, etc.] which comes to influencing, commenting on, and attempting to change people's motives, methods, and ways of thinking is deluded and horrifying. And I don't want to interject myself into people's business to save them - especially if they don't want to be saved.
"Yet sometimes I wonder, and I struggle. Because I think what bothers me about this extra layer of people we get to see sometimes is not the damage that it does to themselves, but the damage it is going to allow them to do to others."
"Stricken with Typhoid in Cambodia" - Help get a Lovely Punk Artist Home to Recooperate.
In hopes of getting this signal out there and just a little stronger.
.jpg)
A series of misfortunes has left an old friend and fellow Bennington Alum, Darshana Bolt, pictured above with some of her work, stuck in Cambodia and doing battle with a serious [as if there's any other kind] bout of Typhoid fever. With her already ravaged immune system, and the fact that despite all the proper vaccinations, she's still gotten sick, and she desperately needs to return home to recover properly, with her family and other loved ones in Vermont. But with mounting debt for less than spectacular medical care, getting home as been difficult for her.
And so, the vibrant artist with the huge heart, the artist, the teacher, the proper punker - has been spending most of her days like this:
.jpg)
In order to combat her debt and get her home, her brother has set up a gofundme.com account to help, with a rather meager goal of just $2,500. You can read all about it, and give here at http://www.gofundme.com/Help-Darshana.
They've already raised over half of their goal, and if everyone who reads this or is a friend on face book were to give a couple of bucks, she's be able to go home. So if you can give just a little bit, please, do. I'd consider it a personal favor - I have fond memories of Darshana, always with her sketchbook, ever teasing me about my excitement-induced mixed-metaphors.
There's a fair chance if you're reading this, you're an artist or a world traveler yourself, with a penchant for getting out there, and not at all unlikely to wind up in a similar tight spot. Price we pay for being interesting, eh? But we've all got to help each other, folks.
.jpg)
A series of misfortunes has left an old friend and fellow Bennington Alum, Darshana Bolt, pictured above with some of her work, stuck in Cambodia and doing battle with a serious [as if there's any other kind] bout of Typhoid fever. With her already ravaged immune system, and the fact that despite all the proper vaccinations, she's still gotten sick, and she desperately needs to return home to recover properly, with her family and other loved ones in Vermont. But with mounting debt for less than spectacular medical care, getting home as been difficult for her.
And so, the vibrant artist with the huge heart, the artist, the teacher, the proper punker - has been spending most of her days like this:
In order to combat her debt and get her home, her brother has set up a gofundme.com account to help, with a rather meager goal of just $2,500. You can read all about it, and give here at http://www.gofundme.com/Help-Darshana.
They've already raised over half of their goal, and if everyone who reads this or is a friend on face book were to give a couple of bucks, she's be able to go home. So if you can give just a little bit, please, do. I'd consider it a personal favor - I have fond memories of Darshana, always with her sketchbook, ever teasing me about my excitement-induced mixed-metaphors.
There's a fair chance if you're reading this, you're an artist or a world traveler yourself, with a penchant for getting out there, and not at all unlikely to wind up in a similar tight spot. Price we pay for being interesting, eh? But we've all got to help each other, folks.
Familiars.
Reposted from Facebook, by request. - The Management.
Apologies for the poor quality photo - my phone's camera is nothing fancy. But this is Loki - a sorta-rescue I've had for about a year, who I don't generally bomb the internet with pictures of, because you're going to hear enough about him if you talk to me in person. But here's the deal - he's plenty affectionate, but the little [big] dude is not a lap cat, and his personality honestly leans closer to mine than I'd like to admit sometimes, meaning he's kind of self-interested little ass, even for a cat, and I kind of dig that about him.
Anyway, story time. I've suffered from panic attacks for a good [right] long time, and though medication has pretty much knocked them out of me, one still manages to sneak through and ruin a night or two here and there every now and then. And look, I am not one of those "healing powers of animals" types - I'm not going to profess swimming with dolphins cures cancer, or having a dog is going to make you not want to kill yourself. And I'm under no delusions that as much affection Loki and I show each other on a regular basis, he'd eat my eyeballs if I died in my sleep [which I am strangely ok with].
But last night, when my mind was racing and my skin was crawling and my bones were burning, Loki curled up in my lap without a single prompt and sat there until all the fear and loathing abated. No clue how he knew, not all that interested in questioning it.
Just a reminder - if you can take in an unwanted pet, you should. You don't need to start with them as infants or kittens or whatever to make a worthwhile connection.
Apologies for the poor quality photo - my phone's camera is nothing fancy. But this is Loki - a sorta-rescue I've had for about a year, who I don't generally bomb the internet with pictures of, because you're going to hear enough about him if you talk to me in person. But here's the deal - he's plenty affectionate, but the little [big] dude is not a lap cat, and his personality honestly leans closer to mine than I'd like to admit sometimes, meaning he's kind of self-interested little ass, even for a cat, and I kind of dig that about him.
Anyway, story time. I've suffered from panic attacks for a good [right] long time, and though medication has pretty much knocked them out of me, one still manages to sneak through and ruin a night or two here and there every now and then. And look, I am not one of those "healing powers of animals" types - I'm not going to profess swimming with dolphins cures cancer, or having a dog is going to make you not want to kill yourself. And I'm under no delusions that as much affection Loki and I show each other on a regular basis, he'd eat my eyeballs if I died in my sleep [which I am strangely ok with].
But last night, when my mind was racing and my skin was crawling and my bones were burning, Loki curled up in my lap without a single prompt and sat there until all the fear and loathing abated. No clue how he knew, not all that interested in questioning it.
Just a reminder - if you can take in an unwanted pet, you should. You don't need to start with them as infants or kittens or whatever to make a worthwhile connection.
Trying to get back in the swing of things.
2012 was a lost year. A lost year in the lot of my lost years. I sort of wish we could live life like characters in comic books - get part of the story now, and then when so much has happened, have a mini-series which documents a time that hardly happened to us. Something in life self-contained, and shaping, but not in a way we have to refer to it all the time.
Speaking of comics, I spent yesterday, today, working on a new one. Short script, nothing major. Was hoping for 5-8 pages, landed at 14. Actually thought it was 15, but just miscounted. Some things do not change. The funny part is, that's only like five pages short of a monthly book, maybe not even that these days. I've bought/read a lot more mini-comics lately, thought maybe I'd check to see what a good length was. Really enjoyed the distribution method of "Calamity Cash & The Town with No Name," wouldn't mind doing it again.
Doubtful this is the project to do that with. Kind of mishmash of steam-punk and appropriated Asian culture. Nothing earthshaking, doubt it's all that good. But there's kind of message in it, but I don't think anyone would see it, doubt seriously anyone would ever want to draw it. But we'll see. Right now I kind of just want to get it polished, make sure it hits all the beats. I really want to get in touch with either an artist who has worked from comic scripts a lot, or a writer with a lot of experience when it comes to layouts. It's just something I want to improve on, especially when looking at how full some of the pages were in "Town with No Name" - something I don't blame Justin for.
I don't think I gave him anything he couldn't fit on the page. Dude is a machine.
Hoping to pick all this back up again - the blogging, the regular writing, maybe the exercises. Would like to post more here, naturally, but that means doing more actual work to write about. And prose. I sort of like the idea of doing more prose, I think it'd be cool to go to more Sketchy's, write more there. Though that, like most things, largely depends on the ride.
Couple things in the wings. One I can't talk about. Very long term. And then I'm hoping to get in touch with some friends, maybe start working some things out. Would like to finish up some short screenplays. Feel like if I could just get one of them filmed, people would really sit up and take notice.
Speaking of comics, I spent yesterday, today, working on a new one. Short script, nothing major. Was hoping for 5-8 pages, landed at 14. Actually thought it was 15, but just miscounted. Some things do not change. The funny part is, that's only like five pages short of a monthly book, maybe not even that these days. I've bought/read a lot more mini-comics lately, thought maybe I'd check to see what a good length was. Really enjoyed the distribution method of "Calamity Cash & The Town with No Name," wouldn't mind doing it again.
Doubtful this is the project to do that with. Kind of mishmash of steam-punk and appropriated Asian culture. Nothing earthshaking, doubt it's all that good. But there's kind of message in it, but I don't think anyone would see it, doubt seriously anyone would ever want to draw it. But we'll see. Right now I kind of just want to get it polished, make sure it hits all the beats. I really want to get in touch with either an artist who has worked from comic scripts a lot, or a writer with a lot of experience when it comes to layouts. It's just something I want to improve on, especially when looking at how full some of the pages were in "Town with No Name" - something I don't blame Justin for.
I don't think I gave him anything he couldn't fit on the page. Dude is a machine.
Hoping to pick all this back up again - the blogging, the regular writing, maybe the exercises. Would like to post more here, naturally, but that means doing more actual work to write about. And prose. I sort of like the idea of doing more prose, I think it'd be cool to go to more Sketchy's, write more there. Though that, like most things, largely depends on the ride.
Couple things in the wings. One I can't talk about. Very long term. And then I'm hoping to get in touch with some friends, maybe start working some things out. Would like to finish up some short screenplays. Feel like if I could just get one of them filmed, people would really sit up and take notice.
"The Night's Templar" - a story inspired by Dr. Sketchy's Charleston, WV Branch.
The following was written while visiting the Charleston, WV branch of Dr. Sketchy's Anti-Art School and their "Knights Templar" event on 12/16/12. Usually populated by artists and photographers, I decided to see what it'd be like as a writer to attend. Read more about the Charleston Branch here, and if you're unfamiliar with Dr. Sketchy's , I'd direct you to their website and Wikipedia page.
Special thanks to the beautiful models Pepper Fandango and Ophelia Darc, who helped inspire much of this story, though it is not my intention for it to be an accurate depiction of either. - The Management.
“So much fighting under the sign of the cross. So much hate, and rape, and violence, and subjugation. How apt then that an instrument of murder would only serve to spread more! A one, two, one, two, three, four!”
The band’s name was inconsequential to most in attendance, and was, as was typical, well forgotten by many just after the DJ had proclaimed “presenting…!” So when Pepper stepped out on the stage, genuflected as one only can to the gods of Rock and Roll, legs splayed, arms raised, an uninterested look hidden partly under a devil-may-care quiff, gazing out into a sea of people she couldn’t care for and wouldn’t dare try, she felt a bit like meat and got riled by it. Then as the lights went up, the hammer came down, her fingers hitting the strings with the full force of her arm and all her frustrations. They didn’t deserve it, but Pepper was going to give every last one of them what they wanted anyway – her too long held back electric crash of excitement.
Still, Pepper wasn’t fooling herself. Their sound was not really revolutionary. Post-punk, riot grrl-influenced, Bikini Kill also-rans, the local papers had called them – all rags, the nicest thing they could say was that there might be some talent hidden under all that distortion. But it was a conscious choice, on her, and Leah’s, especially Hundy’s part. They called themselves “The Night’s Templar” – a statement that she and Leah weren’t looking for a knight in shining armor, they were just looking for tonight’s knight in shining armor. Because as Hundy had so succinctly put it, that’s why you joined a band, to get laid, and both Leah and Pepper had said they were down for that. And it was mostly true.
But Pepper had different luck, was maybe looking for different things. And in fairness, with her anger, she could be… intimidating.
After her own, half-screamed intro, Pepper let out a guttural shriek, a series of vowels masquerading as lyrics, and had to concede, at least right then – she was kind of fucking scary. And she didn’t need to look around at her band mates to know that, while musically, they were well in sync her, they were solely enjoying themselves, while Pepper felt she was also working something out. And that was a thing, that was something that happened to her on stage that she could never exactly call fun, even when sweating harder in a way she’d never say out loud, but always thought of as “post-coitally.”
When it came to enjoyment, Leah was having nothing but, working her bass with deceptively strong fingers and never casting her head upwards to the crowd. She learned the instrument just to be in the band, and along with a handful of chords she had also picked up that determined, yet distracted gaze that was the signature affectation of all bass players. It hid the fact she wasn’t entirely comfortable up here – she wasn’t like Pepper, she couldn’t get angry, couldn’t muster disdain for the folks in the crowd just there to see something pretty and dexterous prod at the strings and fulfill some fantasy. But she could get lost in it, fall into her part, and seem as confidant on stage as she actually was off.
Hundy, meanwhile, went wild on the drums, awful and useless as always. Sure, Leah had learned bass just to join the band, but that was respectable - Hundy had some delusion he was good. Really, it was Pepper’s foot pounding [from heart to heel, she always thought], and Leah’s thrum-thrumming that kept the beat, while Hundy just went all out spastic on his pawn shop drum set. Hundy wasn’t a bad guy, just a bad drummer, and a boy in a girl band, but he was necessary, a bass and guitar alone not enough to hold a more raucous crowd’s attention.
Despite his garbage drumming, Pepper still thought things felt… stronger tonight. Not perfection, lord, who wanted that? Feedback, their trademark distortion, every last millisecond of lost time, that was all fine, more importantly, it was their sound. And something about it was just working tonight, and Pepper loved it. Looking over, she saw that Leah was feeling it too, having moved into a near crouch, almost taking a knee, strumming as if paying tribute to the very instrument she plucked, feeling none of the pain her awkward stance suggested.
Pepper joined her best she could. Not going down – people who talked knew Pepper didn’t ever, ever go down – so instead she raised her knee, placing her foot strong on the rented amp in front of her, which, rented or no, in her head she proclaimed “MINE!” thrusting crotch and guitar outward, towards the rhythmically head bouncing crowd. With this gesture, the pants she’d chosen, ratty, threadbare jeans, not lucky, just the most clean [and definitely not clean at that], had strained and split, and Pepper felt cool air and hot breath hit her in one of the many places she usually didn’t show, at least not to quite so many at once. Yet she didn’t care – it felt amazing, every drop of condensation giving her a shiver. She leaned herself back, and threw her pelvis forward, stressing the seams further towards complete release.
It was then, in her moment of extreme exhibitionism, that something else struck Pepper, a rarity, even when the show would go poorly. She noticed a face, not the sopping wet beard Hundy currently refused to shave, not the keen focus on four chords that was Leah. No, this was a face in the crowd. A petite and fair complected girl, stunning in the club’s refracted stage lights, which gave her an almost preternatural glow. She struck Pepper as young, not quite a post-teen, but she’d always been terrible at gauging such things. She was definitely overdressed for the the sweltering venue, a low-cut sweater, a heavy coat, and fingerless mittens, with high boots and stocking legs that made it look like she’d just come in out of the snow. And unlike the rest of the crowd, she didn’t bop, or jive, or sway, in fact, she hardly moved.
Save of course, to raise her cell phone, an older, flip-model thing, attached to a lanyard hung around her neck, which she used to take picture, after picture, after picture. Pepper could see each flash, accompanied by the girl’s unwavering eye contact, and though it was impossible – it certainly should have been, over the blaring music she herself was playing – the rocker swore she could hear each click.
And Hundy’s drumming was still so bad, Pepper found it easy to supplant the tempo.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Just one more thing that made the night feel different. Which was great, even when Pepper missed the chorus, and Leah reached out and playfully backhanded her, thinking their lead was going on auto – which wasn’t odd to think, the way she was staring, mouth agape. She snapped her lips shut so hard she felt her teeth clack together, and to shake off the pain whipped at her sweat-drenched hair, the quiff taking flight only to fall down again, into her eyes.
The girl was pretty. But dammit, she was playing. Like she never had before. No distractions. No exceptions.
At least not until after the show.
Special thanks to the beautiful models Pepper Fandango and Ophelia Darc, who helped inspire much of this story, though it is not my intention for it to be an accurate depiction of either. - The Management.
~
“So much fighting under the sign of the cross. So much hate, and rape, and violence, and subjugation. How apt then that an instrument of murder would only serve to spread more! A one, two, one, two, three, four!”
The band’s name was inconsequential to most in attendance, and was, as was typical, well forgotten by many just after the DJ had proclaimed “presenting…!” So when Pepper stepped out on the stage, genuflected as one only can to the gods of Rock and Roll, legs splayed, arms raised, an uninterested look hidden partly under a devil-may-care quiff, gazing out into a sea of people she couldn’t care for and wouldn’t dare try, she felt a bit like meat and got riled by it. Then as the lights went up, the hammer came down, her fingers hitting the strings with the full force of her arm and all her frustrations. They didn’t deserve it, but Pepper was going to give every last one of them what they wanted anyway – her too long held back electric crash of excitement.
Still, Pepper wasn’t fooling herself. Their sound was not really revolutionary. Post-punk, riot grrl-influenced, Bikini Kill also-rans, the local papers had called them – all rags, the nicest thing they could say was that there might be some talent hidden under all that distortion. But it was a conscious choice, on her, and Leah’s, especially Hundy’s part. They called themselves “The Night’s Templar” – a statement that she and Leah weren’t looking for a knight in shining armor, they were just looking for tonight’s knight in shining armor. Because as Hundy had so succinctly put it, that’s why you joined a band, to get laid, and both Leah and Pepper had said they were down for that. And it was mostly true.
But Pepper had different luck, was maybe looking for different things. And in fairness, with her anger, she could be… intimidating.
After her own, half-screamed intro, Pepper let out a guttural shriek, a series of vowels masquerading as lyrics, and had to concede, at least right then – she was kind of fucking scary. And she didn’t need to look around at her band mates to know that, while musically, they were well in sync her, they were solely enjoying themselves, while Pepper felt she was also working something out. And that was a thing, that was something that happened to her on stage that she could never exactly call fun, even when sweating harder in a way she’d never say out loud, but always thought of as “post-coitally.”
When it came to enjoyment, Leah was having nothing but, working her bass with deceptively strong fingers and never casting her head upwards to the crowd. She learned the instrument just to be in the band, and along with a handful of chords she had also picked up that determined, yet distracted gaze that was the signature affectation of all bass players. It hid the fact she wasn’t entirely comfortable up here – she wasn’t like Pepper, she couldn’t get angry, couldn’t muster disdain for the folks in the crowd just there to see something pretty and dexterous prod at the strings and fulfill some fantasy. But she could get lost in it, fall into her part, and seem as confidant on stage as she actually was off.
Hundy, meanwhile, went wild on the drums, awful and useless as always. Sure, Leah had learned bass just to join the band, but that was respectable - Hundy had some delusion he was good. Really, it was Pepper’s foot pounding [from heart to heel, she always thought], and Leah’s thrum-thrumming that kept the beat, while Hundy just went all out spastic on his pawn shop drum set. Hundy wasn’t a bad guy, just a bad drummer, and a boy in a girl band, but he was necessary, a bass and guitar alone not enough to hold a more raucous crowd’s attention.
Despite his garbage drumming, Pepper still thought things felt… stronger tonight. Not perfection, lord, who wanted that? Feedback, their trademark distortion, every last millisecond of lost time, that was all fine, more importantly, it was their sound. And something about it was just working tonight, and Pepper loved it. Looking over, she saw that Leah was feeling it too, having moved into a near crouch, almost taking a knee, strumming as if paying tribute to the very instrument she plucked, feeling none of the pain her awkward stance suggested.
Pepper joined her best she could. Not going down – people who talked knew Pepper didn’t ever, ever go down – so instead she raised her knee, placing her foot strong on the rented amp in front of her, which, rented or no, in her head she proclaimed “MINE!” thrusting crotch and guitar outward, towards the rhythmically head bouncing crowd. With this gesture, the pants she’d chosen, ratty, threadbare jeans, not lucky, just the most clean [and definitely not clean at that], had strained and split, and Pepper felt cool air and hot breath hit her in one of the many places she usually didn’t show, at least not to quite so many at once. Yet she didn’t care – it felt amazing, every drop of condensation giving her a shiver. She leaned herself back, and threw her pelvis forward, stressing the seams further towards complete release.
It was then, in her moment of extreme exhibitionism, that something else struck Pepper, a rarity, even when the show would go poorly. She noticed a face, not the sopping wet beard Hundy currently refused to shave, not the keen focus on four chords that was Leah. No, this was a face in the crowd. A petite and fair complected girl, stunning in the club’s refracted stage lights, which gave her an almost preternatural glow. She struck Pepper as young, not quite a post-teen, but she’d always been terrible at gauging such things. She was definitely overdressed for the the sweltering venue, a low-cut sweater, a heavy coat, and fingerless mittens, with high boots and stocking legs that made it look like she’d just come in out of the snow. And unlike the rest of the crowd, she didn’t bop, or jive, or sway, in fact, she hardly moved.
Save of course, to raise her cell phone, an older, flip-model thing, attached to a lanyard hung around her neck, which she used to take picture, after picture, after picture. Pepper could see each flash, accompanied by the girl’s unwavering eye contact, and though it was impossible – it certainly should have been, over the blaring music she herself was playing – the rocker swore she could hear each click.
And Hundy’s drumming was still so bad, Pepper found it easy to supplant the tempo.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Just one more thing that made the night feel different. Which was great, even when Pepper missed the chorus, and Leah reached out and playfully backhanded her, thinking their lead was going on auto – which wasn’t odd to think, the way she was staring, mouth agape. She snapped her lips shut so hard she felt her teeth clack together, and to shake off the pain whipped at her sweat-drenched hair, the quiff taking flight only to fall down again, into her eyes.
The girl was pretty. But dammit, she was playing. Like she never had before. No distractions. No exceptions.
At least not until after the show.
~
There’s this ridiculous, gendered myth that women are somehow more adept at reading signals than men. In Pepper’s case, at least, nothing could be farther from the truth. She rarely had any good goddamn idea what anything anyone ever did meant. Fans of the Templar, if there’d been any, might have noticed this reflected in her lyrics, her writing devoid of any symbolism, and generally focusing only on what she knew for sure – fights, slights, and the revenge fantasies that spiraled out of them. Anger was straightforward, easy, and for Pepper, most honest. All those other feelings, affection, especially, she had problems with.
Leah had no such qualms and in fact quite liked playing the game. Take tonight, for instance, with the show over, she’d already pulled off her shorts and was sitting, her shirt pulled down into a makeshift skirt, bare-legged with all the leather-clad boys. They looked quite silly, trying to be tough with their steel studs and spikes, but all at the beck and call of Leah. Their little metal bits of testosterone were just punk rock bedazzle before her and she liked their attention like this, where she felt in control. And Leah’s smooth, naked legs were more than straightforward in their intentions. Leah was hot, and not just from the set, and was looking for her knight.
Pepper could just picture Leah in front of her mirror earlier that evening, making sure the length of her skirt was just right, comfortable, revealing, but not too much. She’d heard other girls, at other shows, say the same things, but always so catty. Pepper respected it, that Leah could navigate it all, that nothing cool she did was ever accidentally. The split in her pants right now had shifted from liberating to inconvenient, to maybe a touch obscene. Leah’s shorts could have fallen to pieces to get her here, and each glimpse of soft thigh and curved calf would have been well planned. Pepper had to stop herself, from lingering just a little too long on the elegance of her bass player’s knees… complicated thoughts for another time.
After all, she had an admirer to find. And probably, likely, strike out with.
Back against the wall and just the right of the merch table, Pepper found her photographer. With the loud mingling of the room, friends and fans rubbing elbows with the acts that night, everyone well and comfortably in beer ticket mode, the girl stood out in her anti-social stance, totally engrossed in her phone’s phosphorescent glow. Flipping through pictures? Most probably. Unapproachable? Most definitely.
A loud duo of cackles disturbed the tempo of the room, shifting Pepper glance from the solitary photographer and back across the room. Leah’s legs having coming uncrossed mid-story [intentionally, no doubt. This was how Leah tended to weed out the creeps], at least two wide-eyed punkers found themselves unable to do anything but comment on as much. And despite her appearance as a delicate, wispy thing, the bass player was not one to ever let perving stand, and she hauled off and punched the closest offender to her, hardcore crumpling under her secret might. The second cackler fell back as if struck too, pure shock that Leah was not the grinning girl she appeared to be, frightened by the dripping blood where knuckle met stud.
Pepper could have rushed over to help her friend, but knew, despite all this, things were well and in hand, and she was likely still interested in at least one of the better mannered of crew. And anyway, those still standing were so keen on rallying for Leah’s affection that they’d jump to her aid even if it meant blocking another leather and denim brother’s cock. Sans those two boys, she’d completely won the group over, not by exposing her long, soft femininity, but by showing off her own rush of disarming machismo.
And some boys can stand to be taught, Leah had said, some even like it, and now each in this group knew, at least for the moment, hopefully longer, that clothing was never a sign, and that bare legs alone were not an invitation. And while Pepper agreed with this, she did wish it could be, at least, an available signal in the unspoken lexicon between her and this girl. But up this close, Pepper felt like there was a wall between her and the girl that she’d kill to crash down with a physical sign, but no, no bare legs on this one, no Leah-esque hints of a mating ritual, or even light interest, just posh strap-up leather boots, ending just below the knee, and devouring dark colored stockings, paisley on paisley on paisley, whose pattern could have well been tattoos.
As was the intensity of her stoical face, focused so completely on the snapshots she’d taken. She seemed to be frowning, so serious was her focus, yet she seemed to engrossed to be unhappy. And it confused Pepper, so much so that in frustration, she felt resolved to just step up and say hello. But two steps from her target, she was stopped dead, focused eyes glanced upwards and looking right into her, dark pools perfectly framed by ebony hair, complete with bangs like an Egyptian queen. Hair straight like curtains, the whole thing mussed enough to be so fucking twee.
And in most cases, this would be Pepper’s, or anyone’s, chance, now having the attention she wanted, she needed. So calling on her inner wallflower, she turned and fell back, quite effortlessly, landing gently beside the cell phone queen. She let her quiff of hair fall into her eyes, a quaint, reassuring bit of cover she once used when she had trouble getting on stage. And still feeling shy in this moment, she moved it over one eye, and hoping to shift into a look of interest instead of her trepidation.
Photo girl had seen all this, but all purpose behind it was entirely lost on her, and shrugging, she went back to her phone, quickly getting lost in her pictures again. Her focus seemed to increase – ignoring her? Pepper wondered – and the girl’s chin dug deep into a previously unseen dimple on her chest, with a force befitting her concentration. Pepper couldn’t help but notice a growing red flush across the phone girl’s chest, and found herself suddenly self-conscious, never having encountered the hazards of a lovely, pointed chin.
Curiosity getting the better of her, yet again finding herself in that place where she wasn’t ready to speak, Pepper let her eyes fall lower [no, not like that], and noticed on the backlit screen her mystery girl was browsing through a series of photos of Pepper herself, full of power and all screams in her triumphant performance from moments ago. Flattered, Pepper felt the blood rush to her nose, the first place she blushed, and shifted against the wall to try and hide it under her sweat-soaked hanging bit of hair. Yet it resisted the move, and to make the gesture even more futile, the rip in Pepper’s pants, not crossing from crotch to belt-loop, shifted instead, letting one side of her ass hit the grimy, cold stone of the wall, making her yelp in surprise, and jump.
If only she’d been looking to get noticed in the most awkward way possible. She would have succeeded.
To her relief [sort of], the girl once more glanced up, surprised by the other woman’s outburst. She brushed back her hair, looking just a smidge older for a second, and gave Pepper a look that suggested she hadn’t seen her when she’d approached before. As confusion spread, she offered a weak smile, and suddenly then those dark eyes widened, and the slightest rosy hue came to her cheeks, and she let out a simple, breathy sigh.
“Oh.”
In a rare moment of clarity, Pepper realized she hadn’t been recognized. To this girl, until the moment, that woman on stage was someone altogether separate from Pepper herself, to her, here, she was just another awkward, sweaty club-goer, there to enjoy the show and stupid or unfortunate enough to leave the house with the crotch of her pants ripped out. And there was a beat, and then more nothing, neither sure how to proceed. And then another moment passed, and the girl’s expression changed, and now looking at Pepper like some rare beast, the girl once more raised her phone.
Pepper was blinded by the flash, so much so she never saw the girl leave. But she did hear the click, and something else.
“Great show.”
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
