My computer's casing cracked again. I'm not entirely sure why - yes, I move it around a lot, but it's not like I'm wacking it against things or dropping it on the floor. I think I have just begun to come to terms with the fact that I bought a budget-priced laptop, and the wear and tear is just the side-effect of that. It is the exact same kind of problem I paid Dell somewhere in the area of 200 dollars to fix before. This time I just took super glue, and press the cracks together, sealing the whole thing up on the outside. It looks like crap, like I actual took a butane lighter and melted the casing back together, but otherwise, it has worked perfectly.
It is in these moments I fear I may have forgotten myself.
I find myself wondering why I have strayed so far from these sorts of solutions to my problems, why I had gotten to a place where functional [when all I needed was function] wasn't good enough. It screams of trying to impress someone, and missing the point of what I should really be doing entirely.
I've been pretty busy this past week - most of it has been from paying work. My book reviews have gotten a little intense, longer books arriving at shorter intervals from each other - nothing to complain about, what I get is really just a roll of the dice, and when I get it is almost entirely up to me, when I turned my last review in. But occasionally when two land so close together it's easy to feel overwhelmed, like all I'm doing are reviews, and that's when a pretty sweet deal tends to feel a little more like a job. The company seems really pleased with the work I do though, and I like that, and I don't know this for sure but I've felt lately like I've been getting better assignments from them. I can't think of a single way they'd do that, but still.
It's one of those management tools I picked up from Terry back in the day - letting your people know they're doing good work can really make them feel better about said work they're doing, even if the tasks themselves haven't changed much.
Speaking of Terry, working on the press releases for our PRSA-WV Crystal Award win was what the bulk of last week went to. You can see a bit about our win here on the PRSA website [search "Vandalia," "Angela Beth Armstead," or "Terry Lively" on the page to see the exact info], and I'll link one of the press releases proper if either go up on the web. I got eight billable hours out of doing the releases, which is pretty accurate to the actual time spent working on them - I'm still in that place where there's always an hour or two I forget to account for, and I'm never comfortable guessing and charging the client for that, but I was much better at keeping track this time. I thought it turned out well, but I promised a final edit, which will probably come down the tube sometime this week.
I also got this on Twitter last week from my cousin Travis, concerning the copy I did for his website, TCustomz.com:
DM from TCustomz: "dude, i'm on the first page of Google for "soul beats" and "sampled beats" thanks to your writing"
This? This I really love. This is a DM notification I'd frame if possible. Twitter should look in to maybe selling prints of said tweets. If I got these for everything I worked on, I almost wouldn't need paid.
I also said goodbye to my kid brother this week. Aaron's... shipping out, sans the ship, headed to basic training as part of the US Army. My mom and step-dad threw a small get-together in his honor on Saturday, and even though I'm just as proud of him as anyone, I still have crazy-mixed feeling about my only sibling going off to join the armed forces in this particular climate. Anyone who doesn't give a shit about politics clearly has never had someone they loved in a position to be put in harms way, and I've just been kind 0f... I'll be honest, I'm not even half-way to untangling all my emotions as it concerns his enlisting. I was very lucky to have my friend Beck along with me, it helped take the edge off like you wouldn't believe, and though I've tried, I'll never really be able to thank her enough for that.
The crazy thing is, Aaron is one of the strongest guys I know, and as much as I'm sweating this for him, I imagine to him it's probably next to no big deal. He has this amazing ability to be calm in the face of things that most of us couldn't even dream of dealing with in such a composed and measured manner, and I honestly don't believe there's anything they can throw at him that will ever be able to throw him. But hey. He's my little brother.
I worry.
I'll be out from under these book reviews by the fourth [there's always more, but hopefully not in the same quick succession], and imagine I'll have notes on the press releases and will have made all the important changes by then, too. I'm hoping to have the time to work on some of my more creative projects after, either editing on "The Tagalong," or maybe starting the script for "Cherry Stone." Both have been on my mind a whole lot lately, and I'd like to have the time to put some work in on them. Plus, I have this nice stack of new books from friends for my Birthday that I'd love to start tearing into ["Bone," anyone? Also, Gillen and McKelvie's "Phonogram" - and a bunch of Tina Fey's essays].
I'm also hoping to have an update about "VHS Generation" from Ander. I know he was under the gun on deadlines for a bit, but last we talked he also seemed like he was making some headway on maybe some layouts, or something nifty I could show off here. The same is true for Justin - I heard from him around my birthday, and it looks like he's found a better way to schedule time for the comic [re: "Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name"] around or maybe during his working hours, so I wouldn't be surprised if I have something to show off for that in the next couple weeks too.
State of the Human Address XXVI
I should really be sleeping.
Hey, that sounds kind of familiar.
Seriously, though, it is ridiculous how much work I'm looking at this week, all of it paying, but not much of it all that creative. I have already complained too much about needing to do things that will ultimately put a little more green in my pocket, so I'm going to try and avoid that, and talk about matters at hand. Well, one matter.
My twenties appear to be circling the drain.
Yesterday was my birthday, the big 2-6. And though I don't feel all that differently, there's a big part of me that desperately wants to sit here and echo a lot of the thoughts that Amy Klein touched on in her post earlier this year entitled "A Woman of a Certain Age." Every few minutes I've had to spare lately, I've been pulling it up and just reading through it. The larger points in it are very gender-oriented, as they should be, as they sort of have to be [given current attitudes and events], and admittedly, your time is probably better spent reading it [as its points are much less selfish, and much more important] instead what I'm about to ramble on about. Because there is snag in it for me. And something in it that doesn't have as much to do with our society's fucked up ideas about age and gender, something that has to do with pursuing a certain kind of goal deep into your twenties, and, barring success, onward, and into your... thirties.
I am worried about being too old. I keep thinking about older people I know, individuals pursuing dreams as lofty or loftier than my own, and how as that age goes up, the more willing I am to scoff at their goals. How ridiculous that seems to me. As if instead of rejecting the idea that growing up is necessary, I decided that, if a certain amount of success was reached by a certain age, it was okay to carry on. It wasn't sad, or pathetic, I wasn't deluding myself. There was still time to dream big. Still room to find out if the way everyone does it was just one choice among many.
I don't know why I think getting older might sacrifice that. I don't know what it is that I expect to impede me as the years progress, other than similar thinking like mine from people who will judge me as uncreative, uninteresting, or unfuckable. I keep trying to stay optimistic, think of "Slouching Towards Bethlehem" and how there are "old hippies too." Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. It's hard to see those I know who are better than me struggle, and even fail. Difficult to watch peers find more success, and wonder if my time has past. Discouraging to hear someone as talented as Amy Klein, who in a very short time has become one of my favorite writers, doubt her own shelf life, when the world would be mad to ever let her be forgotten.
But there's hope. I don't know what it is, or what it looks like -- ironically, descriptions that might describe my own feelings on my personal aspirations. There is hope that those who flounder will find their footing, there is hope in any one of us succeeding, and there is hope that the doubts of the best among us are just that -- doubts, not predictions.
In some respects, today has been kind of brilliant. Remarkable, as I've taken to describing things, perhaps a little too often [I always find a favorite word, for at least a little while]. John and Sarah, two of my better friends, and two of the more skilled writers I know, have complimented my abilities, complimented my attention to my craft. They've also both gotten me books, incredibly encouraging gifts to a writer, or at least this writer, as I have used the works of so many others to sharpen and polish my own skills. I doubt, seriously, that were I to give up writing all together, the books would stop, and yet there is a still a part of me that, upon getting a new one, looks at it as a possibility to improve. To see something I haven't recognized, to get better at something I've done badly, or have never done before.
Outside of my storytelling work, there has been other praise. A website I worked on not too long ago recently got an award. Another project, the owner of the site, sent me good news regarding how well my copy had served his site. These accomplishments are to be shared another time, and another place. They just stand to make me feel a little better.
And there's more work on the way. More reviews to write. More freelance work on the horizon. A head full of comic book and creative ideas. Justin and Ander still toiling away at Calamity Cash and VHS Generation, respectively. A new idea I just need time to put together. Some old ideas that are begging to finally be finished. Not to mention a few more responsibilities here at home.
This is hard for me. I am not good at figuring out my own feelings, and it doesn't seem like something I'm getting any better at over time. But I think I have to admit, by how much I'm scrambling, how much I'm neglecting this blog, how behind I am on my daily reading, how many other, personal things I have failed to get done... that my grandmother's recent hospital visit shook me up more than I realized, enough that things aren't going to fall back into place quite like I expected them to. I'm not entirely sure what fixing that is going to entail.
What I do know is that I want to stop neglecting this space. I want to get back to posting two or three time a week, maybe even more. I want to get back to basics with the place, where I actually talk about writing, but when I'm not writing, I'm not afraid to come here and say as much. I think I've gotten self-conscious, the longer this space has been here. I don't think I can afford to do that anymore. And I have to trust that if someone's going to come here, to read "New Hooverville" or to read essays I'm working on for "Casey Jones's Blues" that they'll also be able to tolerate me opining about the minutiae, whether that entails getting or not getting the work done. Or, at the very least, they'll be able to overlook that stuff for what does interest them. I need to stop running this place like it's some half-assed resume. I shouldn't be worried that I don't have enough to write about, or that I've prattled on for too long on any one subject. I shouldn't be worried about the consequences, or looking a certain kind of way. There are places for those kinds of things. I don't think this is one of them. And I don't think that's the kind of professionalism I'm striving for here.
I'm 26 now. I do not know exactly what that means. If I'm honest with myself, I don't want it to mean anything, but I have a fair idea from the lump in my throat that is probably not the case. Because I'm a freaked that I'm closer to thirty than twenty now. And I think I'm choosing to regress a bit because of it - move back, to that time, that process that was working for me before, that made me feel like I had a little better handle on the world.
I don't want to lose any progress I've made. But I'd like to get back to that place where I wasn't constantly doubting myself for the progress I hadn't. And I've already got enough obstacles without making more. I can't find any reassurance in going forward with this, if I already think it's too late.
...then again, sometimes it's easier to play a game that you don't really think you can win...
No. That's a whole different thing. For some other story, or some other day.
I'm going to post a couple of updates on paying work [re: TCustomz.com, Vandalia Productions] before Saturday. Nothing earthshaking. All of it good news. But I need the next couple of days to play catch up, first.Couple of postcards to put up, once I find my scanner, too.
Happy Birthday to me.
Hey, that sounds kind of familiar.
Seriously, though, it is ridiculous how much work I'm looking at this week, all of it paying, but not much of it all that creative. I have already complained too much about needing to do things that will ultimately put a little more green in my pocket, so I'm going to try and avoid that, and talk about matters at hand. Well, one matter.
My twenties appear to be circling the drain.
Yesterday was my birthday, the big 2-6. And though I don't feel all that differently, there's a big part of me that desperately wants to sit here and echo a lot of the thoughts that Amy Klein touched on in her post earlier this year entitled "A Woman of a Certain Age." Every few minutes I've had to spare lately, I've been pulling it up and just reading through it. The larger points in it are very gender-oriented, as they should be, as they sort of have to be [given current attitudes and events], and admittedly, your time is probably better spent reading it [as its points are much less selfish, and much more important] instead what I'm about to ramble on about. Because there is snag in it for me. And something in it that doesn't have as much to do with our society's fucked up ideas about age and gender, something that has to do with pursuing a certain kind of goal deep into your twenties, and, barring success, onward, and into your... thirties.
I am worried about being too old. I keep thinking about older people I know, individuals pursuing dreams as lofty or loftier than my own, and how as that age goes up, the more willing I am to scoff at their goals. How ridiculous that seems to me. As if instead of rejecting the idea that growing up is necessary, I decided that, if a certain amount of success was reached by a certain age, it was okay to carry on. It wasn't sad, or pathetic, I wasn't deluding myself. There was still time to dream big. Still room to find out if the way everyone does it was just one choice among many.
I don't know why I think getting older might sacrifice that. I don't know what it is that I expect to impede me as the years progress, other than similar thinking like mine from people who will judge me as uncreative, uninteresting, or unfuckable. I keep trying to stay optimistic, think of "Slouching Towards Bethlehem" and how there are "old hippies too." Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. It's hard to see those I know who are better than me struggle, and even fail. Difficult to watch peers find more success, and wonder if my time has past. Discouraging to hear someone as talented as Amy Klein, who in a very short time has become one of my favorite writers, doubt her own shelf life, when the world would be mad to ever let her be forgotten.
But there's hope. I don't know what it is, or what it looks like -- ironically, descriptions that might describe my own feelings on my personal aspirations. There is hope that those who flounder will find their footing, there is hope in any one of us succeeding, and there is hope that the doubts of the best among us are just that -- doubts, not predictions.
In some respects, today has been kind of brilliant. Remarkable, as I've taken to describing things, perhaps a little too often [I always find a favorite word, for at least a little while]. John and Sarah, two of my better friends, and two of the more skilled writers I know, have complimented my abilities, complimented my attention to my craft. They've also both gotten me books, incredibly encouraging gifts to a writer, or at least this writer, as I have used the works of so many others to sharpen and polish my own skills. I doubt, seriously, that were I to give up writing all together, the books would stop, and yet there is a still a part of me that, upon getting a new one, looks at it as a possibility to improve. To see something I haven't recognized, to get better at something I've done badly, or have never done before.
Outside of my storytelling work, there has been other praise. A website I worked on not too long ago recently got an award. Another project, the owner of the site, sent me good news regarding how well my copy had served his site. These accomplishments are to be shared another time, and another place. They just stand to make me feel a little better.
And there's more work on the way. More reviews to write. More freelance work on the horizon. A head full of comic book and creative ideas. Justin and Ander still toiling away at Calamity Cash and VHS Generation, respectively. A new idea I just need time to put together. Some old ideas that are begging to finally be finished. Not to mention a few more responsibilities here at home.
This is hard for me. I am not good at figuring out my own feelings, and it doesn't seem like something I'm getting any better at over time. But I think I have to admit, by how much I'm scrambling, how much I'm neglecting this blog, how behind I am on my daily reading, how many other, personal things I have failed to get done... that my grandmother's recent hospital visit shook me up more than I realized, enough that things aren't going to fall back into place quite like I expected them to. I'm not entirely sure what fixing that is going to entail.
What I do know is that I want to stop neglecting this space. I want to get back to posting two or three time a week, maybe even more. I want to get back to basics with the place, where I actually talk about writing, but when I'm not writing, I'm not afraid to come here and say as much. I think I've gotten self-conscious, the longer this space has been here. I don't think I can afford to do that anymore. And I have to trust that if someone's going to come here, to read "New Hooverville" or to read essays I'm working on for "Casey Jones's Blues" that they'll also be able to tolerate me opining about the minutiae, whether that entails getting or not getting the work done. Or, at the very least, they'll be able to overlook that stuff for what does interest them. I need to stop running this place like it's some half-assed resume. I shouldn't be worried that I don't have enough to write about, or that I've prattled on for too long on any one subject. I shouldn't be worried about the consequences, or looking a certain kind of way. There are places for those kinds of things. I don't think this is one of them. And I don't think that's the kind of professionalism I'm striving for here.
I'm 26 now. I do not know exactly what that means. If I'm honest with myself, I don't want it to mean anything, but I have a fair idea from the lump in my throat that is probably not the case. Because I'm a freaked that I'm closer to thirty than twenty now. And I think I'm choosing to regress a bit because of it - move back, to that time, that process that was working for me before, that made me feel like I had a little better handle on the world.
I don't want to lose any progress I've made. But I'd like to get back to that place where I wasn't constantly doubting myself for the progress I hadn't. And I've already got enough obstacles without making more. I can't find any reassurance in going forward with this, if I already think it's too late.
...then again, sometimes it's easier to play a game that you don't really think you can win...
No. That's a whole different thing. For some other story, or some other day.
I'm going to post a couple of updates on paying work [re: TCustomz.com, Vandalia Productions] before Saturday. Nothing earthshaking. All of it good news. But I need the next couple of days to play catch up, first.Couple of postcards to put up, once I find my scanner, too.
Happy Birthday to me.
Stacking Mad Paper with TCustomz.com
So, this was sort of buried in my previous post, and I just want to call attention to it again, because I'm really pleased with how it turned out.
TCustomz.com
Above is part of the mission statement - to read more, go check out TCustomz.com.
I cannot say enough about how proud I am with the finished product on this. This was a great job to work on, Travis made himself incredibly available and was just so passionate about what it is that he does, and was so willing to just sit and talk about it that I went into the actual writing process with a wealth of information to craft into the final copy. There were deadlines, but nearly all of them were self-set, and quality was valued above anything else. At this level, this is the sort of freelance gig you dream about. And not to pay myself on the back, but I think it shows in the work.
Again, I want to thank TCustomz for the opportunity to be involved in the next step of the growth of his business, and for being such a great client.
And not to shill, but I also want to say that if anyone reading this is involved in music in any way, in any genre, and is looking for someone to do website copy, or press releases, or anything like that, to take a look at my work on TCustomz.com and, if you like what you see, email me at mojo.wire.productions@gmail.com. Though not a musician or a producer myself, I'm very passionate about music, and love any chance to write about it, and hopefully help those involved with it if I can.
TCustomz.comTCustomz Productionz is committed to bringing premium beats, instrumentals, and drum kits to artists and producers looking for that perfect sound to complete their projects and support their flow. Producing both composed and sampled beats, TCustomz reflects the old school tradition, but with a new school twist, offering a cleaner, industry quality sound that remains true to the gritty, underground style. Whether you’re an aspiring musician, an up-and-coming producer looking for quality drum kits, or an established star trying to find something fresh and real, TCustomz Productionz has what you need.
Above is part of the mission statement - to read more, go check out TCustomz.com.
I cannot say enough about how proud I am with the finished product on this. This was a great job to work on, Travis made himself incredibly available and was just so passionate about what it is that he does, and was so willing to just sit and talk about it that I went into the actual writing process with a wealth of information to craft into the final copy. There were deadlines, but nearly all of them were self-set, and quality was valued above anything else. At this level, this is the sort of freelance gig you dream about. And not to pay myself on the back, but I think it shows in the work.
Again, I want to thank TCustomz for the opportunity to be involved in the next step of the growth of his business, and for being such a great client.
And not to shill, but I also want to say that if anyone reading this is involved in music in any way, in any genre, and is looking for someone to do website copy, or press releases, or anything like that, to take a look at my work on TCustomz.com and, if you like what you see, email me at mojo.wire.productions@gmail.com. Though not a musician or a producer myself, I'm very passionate about music, and love any chance to write about it, and hopefully help those involved with it if I can.
Serve the Servant(s)
Few things to run through. Just not like, you know, on a sword.
First up, congratulations to my kid brother, Aaron, who graduated from high school this past week. As you can see in the picture, like most high school grads, he can't quite see what all the fuss is about - a feeling I remember well, the sort of "what did you expect was going to happen" vibe that makes it difficult to understand what all the fuss is about. While I certainly felt like high school was going to go on forever, and even hypothesized once to a very stoned friend that maybe it would, that somewhere along the way we had died, and went to hell, and that this was our eternal damnation, two kids forced to live the same day over and over again, backs to the same wall, going through the same routine, over and over again, with no deviation. All as some punishment from some past deviation.
I think what I neglected back then, what the grads are probably suppose to neglect, is that this was not so much a day for the grad. Commencement is for the families, the relatives. A show you act in, but would really not be too keen on watching.
I enjoyed the ceremony, found a lot of hilarity in how high strung my mother was, and gave Aaron a nice gift to commemorate the day. I tracked down an old Raketa watch from the 1970s, the sort issued in the Soviet Military along with the more ostentatious and common [so I'm told] Vostok watches. He's always been a bit of a war buff, and I wanted to get him a watch because my Dad got me one when I graduated, and that seemed to fit. Plus, a proper tank of wind-up that only the USSR can make? Can't beat that.
And it's hard not to find the tiny "CCCP" pretty nifty too.
We got my grandmother home on Thursday, and most of my time since then has been getting her settled in, making sure she doesn't overdo it before getting back to 100%. She's always been intensely independent, and I personally believe that you don't live and go through the things she has, and then have to get ordered around by some 20-something, no matter how good his intentions are. So it's mostly about keeping up with things, getting them done so she just doesn't have to worry about them. We're slipping back into a regular routine here, but it might be another week before I get back to serious work on any sort of writing project.
It's good to have her home. I appreciate all the support, all the nice things said or done by folks while I was dealing with all this. Thank you.
This whole thing is the major reason while my normal, daily linking of things on my Twitter page has stopped. I apologize to anyone who thinks I might be snubbing them by not throwing them some coverage, believe me, I want to, I've just been really busy and really distracted, and that's put a crimp in things. Most everything I link tends to show up in the right sidebar there under "Blog Roll," so I'd recommend checking there daily. Even if I haven't blogged [and that might continue to be sparse too], please come back and see what all my friends have been up to.
Also, something to check out:
Some, though not all, of my copy for TCustomz.com has went live. Travis is exceptionally pleased with what we have so far, and we're really only one sit-down and probably a little bit of editing from yours truly away from being completely finished. It was a new experience for me, as I'd put website copy together before, but never for a company like this, and there is very little out there to use as examples or build upon. I'm pleased though, and again, feeling a little better about trusting myself.
Speaking of web copy, the company I was working for on the Angela Beth Armstead, DDS website - Terry Lively's Vandalia Productions - has won an award from the West Virginia branch of The Public Relations Society of America. I don't know much in the way of details yet, but apparently there's going to be a dinner/reception on the 15th that I'll be attending. We're all going as group, company solidarity, I'll probably write more about it when I have more information. It seems like a pretty big deal, though.
As personal work goes, I want to thank John, Ian, Max, and Dave for all the kind words and retweets on "Dante Hicks is Dead." That meant a lot, and along with the "likes" on Facebook, I'm thinking these essays are something I might like to pursue. I jumped the gun a little with this one - I don't feel nearly ready to churn these out on anything resembling a regular basis - but that they elicited any response at all made me think I wasn't crazy to put some time towards this first one, and that it was all positive seems like an even greater endorsement. I am sitting on about ten other rough topics for these essays- originally, I was considering something only 80s and 90s-based, but I've since had a couple of ideas concerning things like Scott Pilgrim and Bryan Danielson, so this might just become something of a catch-all "my life through pop culture" kind of memoir thing.
So there will be more, under the tag of "Casey Jones's Blues." I expect it could be a little bit before a second installment, just because, again, I put "Dante Hicks is Dead" up before I really had an overall theme in mind or anything like that. I've also got to finish "The Tagalong" and some stuff that I have been working on/putting off since before I decided to throw this first essay in a series out into the world. But I feel pretty confidant that I'm going to keep at it, and hopefully soon, if only because I've been reading so much Joan Didion, and Bucky Sinister.
If you know their work, you'll see where I'm coming from.
Brief letter from Ander recently, telling me to expect an email sometime this week. Possibly "VHS Generation"-related artwork? Fingers crossed.
Speaking of comics, my friend Sarah told me today that "Girls with Slingshots," a web comic I enjoy immensely but desperately need to catch up on, is authored by a West Virginia native, someone still actually living here in Sheperdstown. I had not known this about Danielle Corsetto, and am a little bummed that she hasn't gotten more local coverage [or perhaps I had just missed it], but I found myself almost too excited about it, a little gleam of hope that I haven't had since finding out Norm Scott [that'd be of "Hsu and Chan" fame] was also from around here. Of course, I don't draw, which is really a problem since it's so difficult finding people up for any sort of long-term collaboration, but still.
Also local, not comic-related, but still cool, the oft-linked, always quality Glen "Mario's Closet" Brogan has begun working on a mural in the city of Charleston. You can see his announcement of the project here, and some posts about his progress here and here. Big congratulations to Glen on this - we're all proud of him.
Looks, it's no secret that I hate it in this state. You can point a lot of fingers as to whose fault that is or isn't, whether I'm difficult, or if there's just nothing here. I find people will make their own decisions, there. The long and short of it is that Randall Nichols and West Virginia have not worked out for each other in many creative ways - but those who it has, those who I would like to call peers [as the gaps between their successes and my failures grow, I feel worse for doing that], their accomplishments are substantial, and I like celebrating them, want to celebrate them. And stuff like this gives me hope that myself and WV may one day work for each other enough so that the two of us can go our separate ways, hopefully in peace.
Hoping to grab just a little bit of sleep. Feeling a little more tired than usual.
First up, congratulations to my kid brother, Aaron, who graduated from high school this past week. As you can see in the picture, like most high school grads, he can't quite see what all the fuss is about - a feeling I remember well, the sort of "what did you expect was going to happen" vibe that makes it difficult to understand what all the fuss is about. While I certainly felt like high school was going to go on forever, and even hypothesized once to a very stoned friend that maybe it would, that somewhere along the way we had died, and went to hell, and that this was our eternal damnation, two kids forced to live the same day over and over again, backs to the same wall, going through the same routine, over and over again, with no deviation. All as some punishment from some past deviation.I think what I neglected back then, what the grads are probably suppose to neglect, is that this was not so much a day for the grad. Commencement is for the families, the relatives. A show you act in, but would really not be too keen on watching.
I enjoyed the ceremony, found a lot of hilarity in how high strung my mother was, and gave Aaron a nice gift to commemorate the day. I tracked down an old Raketa watch from the 1970s, the sort issued in the Soviet Military along with the more ostentatious and common [so I'm told] Vostok watches. He's always been a bit of a war buff, and I wanted to get him a watch because my Dad got me one when I graduated, and that seemed to fit. Plus, a proper tank of wind-up that only the USSR can make? Can't beat that.
And it's hard not to find the tiny "CCCP" pretty nifty too.
We got my grandmother home on Thursday, and most of my time since then has been getting her settled in, making sure she doesn't overdo it before getting back to 100%. She's always been intensely independent, and I personally believe that you don't live and go through the things she has, and then have to get ordered around by some 20-something, no matter how good his intentions are. So it's mostly about keeping up with things, getting them done so she just doesn't have to worry about them. We're slipping back into a regular routine here, but it might be another week before I get back to serious work on any sort of writing project.
It's good to have her home. I appreciate all the support, all the nice things said or done by folks while I was dealing with all this. Thank you.
This whole thing is the major reason while my normal, daily linking of things on my Twitter page has stopped. I apologize to anyone who thinks I might be snubbing them by not throwing them some coverage, believe me, I want to, I've just been really busy and really distracted, and that's put a crimp in things. Most everything I link tends to show up in the right sidebar there under "Blog Roll," so I'd recommend checking there daily. Even if I haven't blogged [and that might continue to be sparse too], please come back and see what all my friends have been up to.
Also, something to check out:
Some, though not all, of my copy for TCustomz.com has went live. Travis is exceptionally pleased with what we have so far, and we're really only one sit-down and probably a little bit of editing from yours truly away from being completely finished. It was a new experience for me, as I'd put website copy together before, but never for a company like this, and there is very little out there to use as examples or build upon. I'm pleased though, and again, feeling a little better about trusting myself.
Speaking of web copy, the company I was working for on the Angela Beth Armstead, DDS website - Terry Lively's Vandalia Productions - has won an award from the West Virginia branch of The Public Relations Society of America. I don't know much in the way of details yet, but apparently there's going to be a dinner/reception on the 15th that I'll be attending. We're all going as group, company solidarity, I'll probably write more about it when I have more information. It seems like a pretty big deal, though.
As personal work goes, I want to thank John, Ian, Max, and Dave for all the kind words and retweets on "Dante Hicks is Dead." That meant a lot, and along with the "likes" on Facebook, I'm thinking these essays are something I might like to pursue. I jumped the gun a little with this one - I don't feel nearly ready to churn these out on anything resembling a regular basis - but that they elicited any response at all made me think I wasn't crazy to put some time towards this first one, and that it was all positive seems like an even greater endorsement. I am sitting on about ten other rough topics for these essays- originally, I was considering something only 80s and 90s-based, but I've since had a couple of ideas concerning things like Scott Pilgrim and Bryan Danielson, so this might just become something of a catch-all "my life through pop culture" kind of memoir thing.
So there will be more, under the tag of "Casey Jones's Blues." I expect it could be a little bit before a second installment, just because, again, I put "Dante Hicks is Dead" up before I really had an overall theme in mind or anything like that. I've also got to finish "The Tagalong" and some stuff that I have been working on/putting off since before I decided to throw this first essay in a series out into the world. But I feel pretty confidant that I'm going to keep at it, and hopefully soon, if only because I've been reading so much Joan Didion, and Bucky Sinister.
If you know their work, you'll see where I'm coming from.
Brief letter from Ander recently, telling me to expect an email sometime this week. Possibly "VHS Generation"-related artwork? Fingers crossed.
Speaking of comics, my friend Sarah told me today that "Girls with Slingshots," a web comic I enjoy immensely but desperately need to catch up on, is authored by a West Virginia native, someone still actually living here in Sheperdstown. I had not known this about Danielle Corsetto, and am a little bummed that she hasn't gotten more local coverage [or perhaps I had just missed it], but I found myself almost too excited about it, a little gleam of hope that I haven't had since finding out Norm Scott [that'd be of "Hsu and Chan" fame] was also from around here. Of course, I don't draw, which is really a problem since it's so difficult finding people up for any sort of long-term collaboration, but still.
Also local, not comic-related, but still cool, the oft-linked, always quality Glen "Mario's Closet" Brogan has begun working on a mural in the city of Charleston. You can see his announcement of the project here, and some posts about his progress here and here. Big congratulations to Glen on this - we're all proud of him.
Looks, it's no secret that I hate it in this state. You can point a lot of fingers as to whose fault that is or isn't, whether I'm difficult, or if there's just nothing here. I find people will make their own decisions, there. The long and short of it is that Randall Nichols and West Virginia have not worked out for each other in many creative ways - but those who it has, those who I would like to call peers [as the gaps between their successes and my failures grow, I feel worse for doing that], their accomplishments are substantial, and I like celebrating them, want to celebrate them. And stuff like this gives me hope that myself and WV may one day work for each other enough so that the two of us can go our separate ways, hopefully in peace.
Hoping to grab just a little bit of sleep. Feeling a little more tired than usual.
Dante Hicks is Dead.
In the summer of 2006, exactly one month after my birthday, my father and I sat in a small movie theater at Park Place Stadium Cinemas as the credits for Kevin Smith's newly released sequel to "Clerks" - "Clerks 2" [shocking title] - came to a close, slowly panning back on its two protagonists, the infamous Randal Graves and Dante Hicks, as the color washed from the screen and Soul Asylum's "Misery" began its lonesome entreaty to the audience. The theater was not terribly full, its attendant was most likely busy, so with the lights still off, and the other patrons shuffling out, I sat next to my father and started to cry.
To his merit, he never said a word, never offered a joke to wash the moment away, or asked if there was something wrong, of if there was something he could do. There was something wrong - there were a lot of things wrong in my life at the time, most of them not nearly as important as I thought they were, but one of them important enough that I'm relatively sure that its presence still ails me to this day. I was in a place I didn't want to be, there was a person I loved that I was growing apart from, and the end of college was looming, and I had no idea what the future would hold for me. As far as "what I wanted" went, I hadn't a clue.
"Clerks 2" probably should have solidified that feeling to me. That moment should have been a moment of hopelessness, those tears could have been born from that swelling, growing terror. When I discovered "Clerks" in high school, a world had opened up for me, the early to mid-nineties cinema which I had been too young and out of touch to discover showing me something I wanted to be part of, something that said I could be myself, but I was also allowed to make things better -- not in an altruistic sense, but still, better for me. And while "Clerks" was the first, and while it would introduce me to not just Kevin Smith's movies, but classics of both cult and mainstream variety, it would also hold the distinction of being the favorite, of being the inspiration. Of showing that if I wanted, I could do what Kevin Smith was doing too. Not in a way that made it look easy, but in a way that made it look like something that, with work, I could accomplish myself. Attainability, without dragging that which seemed attainable down. A rare, wonderful thing for a cynic.
And now I was watching the sequel to that, not closer to my own brass ring. Not far from the age Smith was when he made the first, and now, here was the second, twelve years later. The cynic hadn't even caught the gleam off his brass ring.
But it wasn't that. That wasn't why I cried. I was crying because, for the first time in so very, very long, as I sat in that theater with those credits rolling, I realized I felt like I was home. Home. I say it again, and realize it sounds corny. But once upon a time I could recite "Clerks" like a priest with his bible verses. More often than not, when I was alone, when I had a moment of peace, it was on, slightly overexposed black and white film glaring off my TV set, in way that could almost give you a certain kind of headache. A moving poster, an electric, full-screen, analog security blanket. Safe. Comfortable. Funny. Reassuring. Home. And "Clerks 2" took me back home.
It was beautiful. I cried. For a while, I think I cried every time. And even now, occasionally, it can catch me off guard.
You can't be that kind of Kevin Smith fan, however, and not know how close to not having that moment in 2006 I came. The original "Clerks" was not so much released in theaters as it was "released in theater(s)," and in this early, initial cut of the film, a great deal of things were different. The drugged out ramblings of Jason Mewes not so alter-ego "Jay" were longer, and included an amusing anecdote about having sex with his cousin. You could also see Randal interacting with the store security camera, and a few more idiot customers also turned up along the way. And there was a small subplot about another unfortunate customer, not of the Quick Stop, but of the drug dealers and Jay and Silent Bob, who needed just a little more scratch to cover his debt, and outfit the Jersey house party he was headed to with dankest of shit that Jay could provide. Of course, he was broke. But there are ways around these things.
So this nameless drug strolled into the Quick Stop while Dante Hicks was counting out for the day, and shot and killed our hapless protagonist, leaving him lifeless behind the counter, not even supposed to be there that day.
Such a depressing ending was listed, early on, as one of the film's greatest flaws, and Smith's mentor John Pierson suggested he cut it, so naturally Smith did. He was a young man, a young filmmaker, and Pierson's opinion held a great deal of weight. Few would ever call this move a mistake, and even Smith admits he only ended the film that way because it was an indie movie, and "in indie movies, someone always dies." It was unnecessary, some even say it would have made "Clerks" a different kind of movie, and that is a legitimate argument to be made.
But let's also be fair; any movie that's success hinges solely on its ending isn't all that good of a movie anyway, and whether Smith had changed that ending or not probably would have had little baring on the sudden jump start to his career. He still would have gotten studio attention, he still would have joined the Miramax Golden Boys, and its pretty likely Smith would have continued making movies much as he has to this day. Smith himself has cast doubts on the Jersey Trilogy having ever taken shape had he kept that ending, but a touch a stubbornness, a different decision, none of this necessarily would have halted the slow creation of the View Askewniverse.
It would still be a universe. Smith was a comic book fan at heart, and appreciated the shared world the three-color heroes shared in their monthlies. Batman and Superman were friends, Spidey could spin by and have a beer with Daredevil, the Fantastic Four could fight the Hulk -- he liked these things, and the continuity that developed between them, because of them, and put it into his own world he was creating, setting [mostly] in Leonardo, New Jersey. And he was a stickler for his own continuity, at least for a while, and when you consider that, in the same context of the death of Dante Hicks, it is hard not to wonder.
Obviously, "Mallrats" could have went on without him. "Chasing Amy" also could have been made without a hitch, and in fact it's "down ending" would fit better in a world where Dante Hicks was dead. In "Chasing Amy" everything was darker, everything was just a little more real - Jay and Bob, in their few moments of screen time, even seem a bit harder edged... not the kids from "Mallrats" but more like two someones who could have walked into a Tarantino scene. "Dogma" is much the same, though with a brighter gloss, and a feeling like Smith himself is trying to regain a little of his ridiculousness, and little bit of the light-hearted charm, while dealing with something with so serious that the filmmaker would get death threats himself. And why not? If someone would kill over drugs, or a pack of smokes, some Hollywood-hotshot lampooning the Catholic faith probably shouldn't be surprised that a few folks might want him dead.
Other parts of the mythos are more problematic. The Oni-published Clerks comics could have easily been prequels, at least one supposes, barring of course the Christmas Special, but like we've seen with Joss Whedon, even if that had been produced someone could have come along and agreed to its canonicity. "Chasing Dogma" now actually fits better, but its eventual metamorphosis into "Jay and Silent Bob Strikes Back" seems unlikely. Randal and Dante are the impetus for Jay and Bob's ejection from outside the Quick Stop, and it's difficult to swallow that Randal Graves would have ever been able to pick up with his life after "Clerks" and keep working in the video store, steps away from where his friend died. And even if he somehow could, Randal Graves is not so immutable that he would be the same man after such a tragedy, that he'd be able to slip back into old habits, and care enough about arguments concerning Morris Day and "Clash of the Titans" to ever call the cops. Those wheels would not be set in motion.
The cartoon, I suppose, could have still happened. Why not? Though again, what seems more likely is that the "Dogma" cartoon that was originally considered would have taken shape, maybe not made it on ABC, but found a home in syndication. Hell, maybe Kevin Smith could have used that cartoon to walk away from Hollywood completely, become a "TV guy," with a cast and crew diametrically opposed to the cheap animation and one-note jokes of a Seth MacFarlane-dominated prime time cartoon landscape.
All right. So there probably just wouldn't have been a cartoon.
And there probably wouldn't have been a "Clerks 2." And if there had, what would it have been? What would the Askewniverse look like without Dante Hicks? Maybe Randal would have been forever tied to the place that claimed his only friend. Maybe it still burns down, and Randal never looks back, goes to Mooby's, and winds up being the one who knocks up Becky, a relationship which could never persevere, never last, as Elias looks on, probably more of a punching bag for Randal's ever-growing spite for the world. Because he hates everything, and thinks everything is stupid. Who the hell would ever want to be his friend? And what the hell else does he have in life to live for?
Smith has said "Clerks 2" was as much about being in his 30s as "Clerks" was about being in his 20s. That's fair. That picture above would probably not reflect Smith's 30s, even without Dante Hicks, giving it all the more reason to never be made. But then again, what if it wasn't? What if, without Dante, Smith had no outlet for what he felt he needed to say? Where would Jay and Silent Bob be now, what venue would Smith find for his one big musical number? Kevin is an artist, a writer, who is always at his best when he has something he feels he has to say, and Dante really, was his first avatar to express that. Would Holden [Fucking] McNeil have been his second choice, had he left his first back on that Quick Stop floor? Is he still out there, chasing Alyssa Jones?
It is a morbidly fun game to play. Would Dante Hicks would have had some small part as one of the many kinds of living dead in "Dogma" [he has, of course, the experience, from being one of the living dead in "Clerks"]? Maybe not in physical form, but as some twisted Alan Rickman-uttered metaphor for the meaninglessness of existence, about the man who put himself out one day, who lived a day so important in its unimportance, and who, on the precipice of change, was denied that change by an act of random violence, by a bullet from some hoodlum of a gun? And then a sobbing Last Scion, so angry at the Lord who she feels has forsaken her on her question, screams back at him, asking why, why the Creator couldn't himself have saved this man, reach out to him, protected him, just ended the picture a minute or so early, that he may go on living, and make the changes he had planned on. Or not. Couldn't his God have given him the time?
The best things in Kevin Smith movies occur in conversations, the nuanced parts that take a little more attention, that ask someone to look at the threads between the characters. You have to take the time. Maybe Dante Hicks would have been remembered like that, the reason his cousin Gil goes for the big prizes in "Mallrats," a parable for living life to its fullest in "Chasing Amy," a memorial in the background, if you just pause the laserdisc, or put the DVD on slow motion, and run through it, one frame at a time. Here lies Dante Hicks. "The Lord Has Taken Him Home."
Home.
Every comic book fan loves a good "What If...?" Everyone wants to see the Elseworlds or Earth-2476, everyone wants to know about The Nail. It's hard not to be interested, it's hard not to want to leave the comfort of the fictions we know, and visit places where Superman still has the mullet, where Wolverine has killed the X-Men, where Donna Noble turned right. We want to see how they'd be different, how they would cope if we perversely reallocated their losses and theirs gains. And right on the edge of that, we wonder what we might have sacrificed, and how we too might have been changed.
In July of 2006, if Dante Hicks had died, I would not have sat in a movie theater and cried openly in front of my father, hunched over the back of a faux-velvet seat, the only thing keeping me from falling to my knees in genuflection. I would not have this small moment, which most would think was of little consequence, as a part of my life. And though I can speculate endlessly what this would have changed for Kevin Smith, or my father, or even the fictitious Randal Graves, I cannot imagine what it would have meant for me.
To his merit, he never said a word, never offered a joke to wash the moment away, or asked if there was something wrong, of if there was something he could do. There was something wrong - there were a lot of things wrong in my life at the time, most of them not nearly as important as I thought they were, but one of them important enough that I'm relatively sure that its presence still ails me to this day. I was in a place I didn't want to be, there was a person I loved that I was growing apart from, and the end of college was looming, and I had no idea what the future would hold for me. As far as "what I wanted" went, I hadn't a clue.
"Clerks 2" probably should have solidified that feeling to me. That moment should have been a moment of hopelessness, those tears could have been born from that swelling, growing terror. When I discovered "Clerks" in high school, a world had opened up for me, the early to mid-nineties cinema which I had been too young and out of touch to discover showing me something I wanted to be part of, something that said I could be myself, but I was also allowed to make things better -- not in an altruistic sense, but still, better for me. And while "Clerks" was the first, and while it would introduce me to not just Kevin Smith's movies, but classics of both cult and mainstream variety, it would also hold the distinction of being the favorite, of being the inspiration. Of showing that if I wanted, I could do what Kevin Smith was doing too. Not in a way that made it look easy, but in a way that made it look like something that, with work, I could accomplish myself. Attainability, without dragging that which seemed attainable down. A rare, wonderful thing for a cynic.
And now I was watching the sequel to that, not closer to my own brass ring. Not far from the age Smith was when he made the first, and now, here was the second, twelve years later. The cynic hadn't even caught the gleam off his brass ring.
But it wasn't that. That wasn't why I cried. I was crying because, for the first time in so very, very long, as I sat in that theater with those credits rolling, I realized I felt like I was home. Home. I say it again, and realize it sounds corny. But once upon a time I could recite "Clerks" like a priest with his bible verses. More often than not, when I was alone, when I had a moment of peace, it was on, slightly overexposed black and white film glaring off my TV set, in way that could almost give you a certain kind of headache. A moving poster, an electric, full-screen, analog security blanket. Safe. Comfortable. Funny. Reassuring. Home. And "Clerks 2" took me back home.
It was beautiful. I cried. For a while, I think I cried every time. And even now, occasionally, it can catch me off guard.
You can't be that kind of Kevin Smith fan, however, and not know how close to not having that moment in 2006 I came. The original "Clerks" was not so much released in theaters as it was "released in theater(s)," and in this early, initial cut of the film, a great deal of things were different. The drugged out ramblings of Jason Mewes not so alter-ego "Jay" were longer, and included an amusing anecdote about having sex with his cousin. You could also see Randal interacting with the store security camera, and a few more idiot customers also turned up along the way. And there was a small subplot about another unfortunate customer, not of the Quick Stop, but of the drug dealers and Jay and Silent Bob, who needed just a little more scratch to cover his debt, and outfit the Jersey house party he was headed to with dankest of shit that Jay could provide. Of course, he was broke. But there are ways around these things.
So this nameless drug strolled into the Quick Stop while Dante Hicks was counting out for the day, and shot and killed our hapless protagonist, leaving him lifeless behind the counter, not even supposed to be there that day.
Such a depressing ending was listed, early on, as one of the film's greatest flaws, and Smith's mentor John Pierson suggested he cut it, so naturally Smith did. He was a young man, a young filmmaker, and Pierson's opinion held a great deal of weight. Few would ever call this move a mistake, and even Smith admits he only ended the film that way because it was an indie movie, and "in indie movies, someone always dies." It was unnecessary, some even say it would have made "Clerks" a different kind of movie, and that is a legitimate argument to be made.
But let's also be fair; any movie that's success hinges solely on its ending isn't all that good of a movie anyway, and whether Smith had changed that ending or not probably would have had little baring on the sudden jump start to his career. He still would have gotten studio attention, he still would have joined the Miramax Golden Boys, and its pretty likely Smith would have continued making movies much as he has to this day. Smith himself has cast doubts on the Jersey Trilogy having ever taken shape had he kept that ending, but a touch a stubbornness, a different decision, none of this necessarily would have halted the slow creation of the View Askewniverse.
It would still be a universe. Smith was a comic book fan at heart, and appreciated the shared world the three-color heroes shared in their monthlies. Batman and Superman were friends, Spidey could spin by and have a beer with Daredevil, the Fantastic Four could fight the Hulk -- he liked these things, and the continuity that developed between them, because of them, and put it into his own world he was creating, setting [mostly] in Leonardo, New Jersey. And he was a stickler for his own continuity, at least for a while, and when you consider that, in the same context of the death of Dante Hicks, it is hard not to wonder.
Obviously, "Mallrats" could have went on without him. "Chasing Amy" also could have been made without a hitch, and in fact it's "down ending" would fit better in a world where Dante Hicks was dead. In "Chasing Amy" everything was darker, everything was just a little more real - Jay and Bob, in their few moments of screen time, even seem a bit harder edged... not the kids from "Mallrats" but more like two someones who could have walked into a Tarantino scene. "Dogma" is much the same, though with a brighter gloss, and a feeling like Smith himself is trying to regain a little of his ridiculousness, and little bit of the light-hearted charm, while dealing with something with so serious that the filmmaker would get death threats himself. And why not? If someone would kill over drugs, or a pack of smokes, some Hollywood-hotshot lampooning the Catholic faith probably shouldn't be surprised that a few folks might want him dead.
Other parts of the mythos are more problematic. The Oni-published Clerks comics could have easily been prequels, at least one supposes, barring of course the Christmas Special, but like we've seen with Joss Whedon, even if that had been produced someone could have come along and agreed to its canonicity. "Chasing Dogma" now actually fits better, but its eventual metamorphosis into "Jay and Silent Bob Strikes Back" seems unlikely. Randal and Dante are the impetus for Jay and Bob's ejection from outside the Quick Stop, and it's difficult to swallow that Randal Graves would have ever been able to pick up with his life after "Clerks" and keep working in the video store, steps away from where his friend died. And even if he somehow could, Randal Graves is not so immutable that he would be the same man after such a tragedy, that he'd be able to slip back into old habits, and care enough about arguments concerning Morris Day and "Clash of the Titans" to ever call the cops. Those wheels would not be set in motion.
The cartoon, I suppose, could have still happened. Why not? Though again, what seems more likely is that the "Dogma" cartoon that was originally considered would have taken shape, maybe not made it on ABC, but found a home in syndication. Hell, maybe Kevin Smith could have used that cartoon to walk away from Hollywood completely, become a "TV guy," with a cast and crew diametrically opposed to the cheap animation and one-note jokes of a Seth MacFarlane-dominated prime time cartoon landscape.
All right. So there probably just wouldn't have been a cartoon.
And there probably wouldn't have been a "Clerks 2." And if there had, what would it have been? What would the Askewniverse look like without Dante Hicks? Maybe Randal would have been forever tied to the place that claimed his only friend. Maybe it still burns down, and Randal never looks back, goes to Mooby's, and winds up being the one who knocks up Becky, a relationship which could never persevere, never last, as Elias looks on, probably more of a punching bag for Randal's ever-growing spite for the world. Because he hates everything, and thinks everything is stupid. Who the hell would ever want to be his friend? And what the hell else does he have in life to live for?
Smith has said "Clerks 2" was as much about being in his 30s as "Clerks" was about being in his 20s. That's fair. That picture above would probably not reflect Smith's 30s, even without Dante Hicks, giving it all the more reason to never be made. But then again, what if it wasn't? What if, without Dante, Smith had no outlet for what he felt he needed to say? Where would Jay and Silent Bob be now, what venue would Smith find for his one big musical number? Kevin is an artist, a writer, who is always at his best when he has something he feels he has to say, and Dante really, was his first avatar to express that. Would Holden [Fucking] McNeil have been his second choice, had he left his first back on that Quick Stop floor? Is he still out there, chasing Alyssa Jones?
It is a morbidly fun game to play. Would Dante Hicks would have had some small part as one of the many kinds of living dead in "Dogma" [he has, of course, the experience, from being one of the living dead in "Clerks"]? Maybe not in physical form, but as some twisted Alan Rickman-uttered metaphor for the meaninglessness of existence, about the man who put himself out one day, who lived a day so important in its unimportance, and who, on the precipice of change, was denied that change by an act of random violence, by a bullet from some hoodlum of a gun? And then a sobbing Last Scion, so angry at the Lord who she feels has forsaken her on her question, screams back at him, asking why, why the Creator couldn't himself have saved this man, reach out to him, protected him, just ended the picture a minute or so early, that he may go on living, and make the changes he had planned on. Or not. Couldn't his God have given him the time?
The best things in Kevin Smith movies occur in conversations, the nuanced parts that take a little more attention, that ask someone to look at the threads between the characters. You have to take the time. Maybe Dante Hicks would have been remembered like that, the reason his cousin Gil goes for the big prizes in "Mallrats," a parable for living life to its fullest in "Chasing Amy," a memorial in the background, if you just pause the laserdisc, or put the DVD on slow motion, and run through it, one frame at a time. Here lies Dante Hicks. "The Lord Has Taken Him Home."
Home.
Every comic book fan loves a good "What If...?" Everyone wants to see the Elseworlds or Earth-2476, everyone wants to know about The Nail. It's hard not to be interested, it's hard not to want to leave the comfort of the fictions we know, and visit places where Superman still has the mullet, where Wolverine has killed the X-Men, where Donna Noble turned right. We want to see how they'd be different, how they would cope if we perversely reallocated their losses and theirs gains. And right on the edge of that, we wonder what we might have sacrificed, and how we too might have been changed.
In July of 2006, if Dante Hicks had died, I would not have sat in a movie theater and cried openly in front of my father, hunched over the back of a faux-velvet seat, the only thing keeping me from falling to my knees in genuflection. I would not have this small moment, which most would think was of little consequence, as a part of my life. And though I can speculate endlessly what this would have changed for Kevin Smith, or my father, or even the fictitious Randal Graves, I cannot imagine what it would have meant for me.
I always feel weird writing an invoice...
A lot of positive stuff to talk about, despite it not being the best couple of days.
Nearly finished with the copy for TCustomz.com. Sent off the invoice, and the rough draft of the biography page last night/this morning. Feeling pretty good about it - I spent a lot of my week working on the page that profiles who Travis is, where he's been, and what he's done, and while I know this is always the page of copy that needs the most adjusting, I still found myself digging what I did with it. The "problem" with an artists profile is that there are just so many ways to do them, and if you're any good at interviewing your client [I like to think I am], then you're going to have a wealth of information to pull from, and a lot of ways to utilize it. I've seen websites that just jam the information about the artist in there like it's the back of a hardcover, and that's fine in some circumstances, but I've always thought the way you present said information should reflect the person its about.
So the rough copy of that is in Travis's hands, and the rest of the work is done. Everything but the bio will be up on his website soon, and I'll do a post pointing everyone to that when the time comes. I've really enjoyed working with Travis on this, and am hopeful that my copy will help him. We really ended up doing something that not a lot of other websites in his industry does. In fact, I'm just going to go ahead and say, if you're a producer, if you do sampling and sell beats, honestly, if you're just a musician, someone in a band, and your website is looking sparse, I would recommend upping the copy on it. Your Flash Player is not showing up in any search engine.
And if you need someone to do it for you, well... hi. How can I help?
Justin has put up some sketches for the comic on his blog [re: Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name]. The first is of Tana Cash herself, just an amazing and dynamic shot, though I think Justin's having a little problem with his scanner, so you won't get to see any of the background in the sketch. Still, it's absolutely amazing, exactly how I picture our heroine at her most bad ass. He also just finished said page, and put up this thumbnail, which is absolutely worth a look too. It's hilarious to me that even with a plot point being how little ammo they have, I worked so many firearms into that script.
Unrelated to all of that, I also wanted to thank my friend John Wiswell for his blog post today. He recently received another Versatile Blogger award, a real honor in his community, and one he absolutely deserves, if you're familiar at all with his stuff. But in the post, he also made reference to our Tuesday night ritual where we watch Dragon Gate Infinity together, and just generally talk wrestling while he listens to me gush about how great K-Ness is. It's one of the highlights of my week, and one of those things that just wouldn't be possible without the internet to bring us together for it. The great downside to my years of college in Vermont means that the bulk of my friends are not folks who live right next door, and chilling together can get a lot more involved than just grabbing some beer and a DVD and popping by.
But more flattering than all of that is that John named me on a list of his versatile writers. Again, if you follow John's work at all [and if you don't you really should] you'll know there's really no one who busts genres like he does, no one who personifies versatile more than John, and to be recognized by him at all for even achieving a modicum of that is just... beyond flattering. I don't have words, or even a proper way to say thank you for him saying this. It just means a lot.
I may actually join in the game later in the week, throw out some little known facts about myself, but right now my heart's just not in it. My grandmother's in the hospital, and she's doing okay, but it's still thrown everything here into disarray. She's doing okay, which is really as much as I'm comfortable going into here, just because I know she finds it mortifying that us kids throw up so much personal stuff on the internet for anyone to read, and even with this glowing shrine to myself I kind of agree with her there. But yeah, that's why despite all the good news, the past few days have not been great.
My kid brother is graduating from high school this weekend. But it's barely Tuesday now, and that feels a long way off.
Nearly finished with the copy for TCustomz.com. Sent off the invoice, and the rough draft of the biography page last night/this morning. Feeling pretty good about it - I spent a lot of my week working on the page that profiles who Travis is, where he's been, and what he's done, and while I know this is always the page of copy that needs the most adjusting, I still found myself digging what I did with it. The "problem" with an artists profile is that there are just so many ways to do them, and if you're any good at interviewing your client [I like to think I am], then you're going to have a wealth of information to pull from, and a lot of ways to utilize it. I've seen websites that just jam the information about the artist in there like it's the back of a hardcover, and that's fine in some circumstances, but I've always thought the way you present said information should reflect the person its about.
So the rough copy of that is in Travis's hands, and the rest of the work is done. Everything but the bio will be up on his website soon, and I'll do a post pointing everyone to that when the time comes. I've really enjoyed working with Travis on this, and am hopeful that my copy will help him. We really ended up doing something that not a lot of other websites in his industry does. In fact, I'm just going to go ahead and say, if you're a producer, if you do sampling and sell beats, honestly, if you're just a musician, someone in a band, and your website is looking sparse, I would recommend upping the copy on it. Your Flash Player is not showing up in any search engine.
And if you need someone to do it for you, well... hi. How can I help?
Justin has put up some sketches for the comic on his blog [re: Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name]. The first is of Tana Cash herself, just an amazing and dynamic shot, though I think Justin's having a little problem with his scanner, so you won't get to see any of the background in the sketch. Still, it's absolutely amazing, exactly how I picture our heroine at her most bad ass. He also just finished said page, and put up this thumbnail, which is absolutely worth a look too. It's hilarious to me that even with a plot point being how little ammo they have, I worked so many firearms into that script.
Unrelated to all of that, I also wanted to thank my friend John Wiswell for his blog post today. He recently received another Versatile Blogger award, a real honor in his community, and one he absolutely deserves, if you're familiar at all with his stuff. But in the post, he also made reference to our Tuesday night ritual where we watch Dragon Gate Infinity together, and just generally talk wrestling while he listens to me gush about how great K-Ness is. It's one of the highlights of my week, and one of those things that just wouldn't be possible without the internet to bring us together for it. The great downside to my years of college in Vermont means that the bulk of my friends are not folks who live right next door, and chilling together can get a lot more involved than just grabbing some beer and a DVD and popping by.
But more flattering than all of that is that John named me on a list of his versatile writers. Again, if you follow John's work at all [and if you don't you really should] you'll know there's really no one who busts genres like he does, no one who personifies versatile more than John, and to be recognized by him at all for even achieving a modicum of that is just... beyond flattering. I don't have words, or even a proper way to say thank you for him saying this. It just means a lot.
I may actually join in the game later in the week, throw out some little known facts about myself, but right now my heart's just not in it. My grandmother's in the hospital, and she's doing okay, but it's still thrown everything here into disarray. She's doing okay, which is really as much as I'm comfortable going into here, just because I know she finds it mortifying that us kids throw up so much personal stuff on the internet for anyone to read, and even with this glowing shrine to myself I kind of agree with her there. But yeah, that's why despite all the good news, the past few days have not been great.
My kid brother is graduating from high school this weekend. But it's barely Tuesday now, and that feels a long way off.
If the Rapture is coming, I'll be starring in all 16 of those shitty novels.
Already got the client feedback for the bulk of Travis's website copy, we had a short sit down about it, and I plugged in the pretty minimal changes he wanted made. Unless you've ever worked on a project like this for someone, it's hard to illustrate how incredibly satisfying it can be to just see how pleased the client is with what you've done for them - in my experience, it rarely ever happens, even when the client is pleased. That's been the awesome thing about working with Travis on his website - this business he's started is his baby, he is in charge of every single aspect of it, and he's passionate about making it great. Which means he has made himself available and has wanted to be involved in the project, and as strange as it sounds, that actually tends to lead to less drafts, less changes, better work. Communication is key, folks. Could not ask for a better person to work for on this, either.
Still have to finish off his biography/profile page. It is one of the more involved sections, with a lot more text and about a hundred different ways it could be put together. I have a rough deadline for myself on Monday. My guess is that some, if not all, of my copy will be going live on TCustomz website sometime next week. Expect links. I'm pretty pleased with how this has worked out, and I'm hoping other music-type people will see what has been done, and think, "hey, we should get something like that too."
Preferably from me. Hah.
Justin has an in-progress preview of the most recent "Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name" page up on his blog. He's really bogged down, and having to alter the way he prefers to work [not style, time, etc - but read his entry, he'll tell you about it better than I can], but he continues to plug along on this. It looks good, and I'm always happy to see the new stuff. Hopefully I'll get to see the how page in person in the next couple weeks... we've also been trying to make a better effort of hanging out.
It's a balancing act.
Always a good excuse to remind you to get one of Justin's sketchbooks. It's awesome, and supporting fellow creatives is what this space is all about.
I've not been feeling my best the past couple of days. I think it's just been bad times, though I dislike saying so because there has been good stuff happening too.
Still have to finish off his biography/profile page. It is one of the more involved sections, with a lot more text and about a hundred different ways it could be put together. I have a rough deadline for myself on Monday. My guess is that some, if not all, of my copy will be going live on TCustomz website sometime next week. Expect links. I'm pretty pleased with how this has worked out, and I'm hoping other music-type people will see what has been done, and think, "hey, we should get something like that too."
Preferably from me. Hah.
Justin has an in-progress preview of the most recent "Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name" page up on his blog. He's really bogged down, and having to alter the way he prefers to work [not style, time, etc - but read his entry, he'll tell you about it better than I can], but he continues to plug along on this. It looks good, and I'm always happy to see the new stuff. Hopefully I'll get to see the how page in person in the next couple weeks... we've also been trying to make a better effort of hanging out.
It's a balancing act.
Always a good excuse to remind you to get one of Justin's sketchbooks. It's awesome, and supporting fellow creatives is what this space is all about.
I've not been feeling my best the past couple of days. I think it's just been bad times, though I dislike saying so because there has been good stuff happening too.
Sunday to Sunday
"The electric white of the computer screen causes me great pain - when switched to black, the glowing reds feel like needles, slipping just under my eyes, throbbing with each heartbeat. The access it affords me is unprecedented, but I fear, more often than not, I'm stretching my perceptions in ways they were not meant to be... I think that we are absorbing information in a manner our bodies never expected. That we are committed now, pragmatically, to going in through the out door, the arrows on the floor all pointing us in the opposite direction in which we move. It's crowded; we will bump and crash into each other. It will damage us - if we're lucky."
A whole week after promising to post more. Ridiculous.
I blame the Blogger outage at least partially, though I will admit to finding some perverse glee in what a state it seemed to put so many people in. We are remarkably sensible about the internet when it's working, but when something goes wrong I think our dependence shows a little. And I kind of think that's great.
The work on the TCustomz project is going really well. I've already gotten first drafts of about 2/3rds of the copy done, and that was sent to Travis today, a full 24 hours ahead of the deadline we set. I wanted to get one of the larger chunks of copy that wasn't scheduled for tomorrow done as well, that other third of the work, but it's just occurred to me that I'm going to need several more days to polish it off, and since I'd originally said that's how long it would take, I just had to admit to myself that I was on schedule. And that was okay.
It's funny that I sweat being on time more than being ahead or behind.
I also got feedback from Kyle this week on "The Tagalong," a pleasant surprise which will come in real handy once I have some time to get back to working on it. Right now I'm a little swamped, and paying work almost always takes precedence with me, less out of a great commitment to the almighty dollar, and more because I have a tendency of letting my projects take over my life. It's counterintuitive to deadlines to work on something unrelated for days until you pass out in a stupor, only to sleep said stupor off until you've made an acceptable dent in the sleep debt you've accumulated. It can get out of hand.
Discipline.
Since I haven't written anything I can really share, I'm going to link Amy Klein's recent blog post on the passing of Poly Styrene. Or maybe just prompted by her passing. It's called "Poly Styrene Takes Her Place in History" and like most things Amy writes, it has a lot more going on than just it's obvious topic. Which means even if you're not a Poly Styrene fan [and what's wrong with you if you're not?], you should probably read it anyway. I said this already on Twitter, but when Amy Klein blogs, I realize just how much I need to up my game as a writer.
I also got to read to someone this week. Joan Didion - not who I read to, but what I read to someone. I hadn't really read to anyone, hadn't really read out loud, in such a long time. And that was really nice too.
--William Kurdt (May, 2007)
---
A whole week after promising to post more. Ridiculous.
I blame the Blogger outage at least partially, though I will admit to finding some perverse glee in what a state it seemed to put so many people in. We are remarkably sensible about the internet when it's working, but when something goes wrong I think our dependence shows a little. And I kind of think that's great.
The work on the TCustomz project is going really well. I've already gotten first drafts of about 2/3rds of the copy done, and that was sent to Travis today, a full 24 hours ahead of the deadline we set. I wanted to get one of the larger chunks of copy that wasn't scheduled for tomorrow done as well, that other third of the work, but it's just occurred to me that I'm going to need several more days to polish it off, and since I'd originally said that's how long it would take, I just had to admit to myself that I was on schedule. And that was okay.
It's funny that I sweat being on time more than being ahead or behind.
I also got feedback from Kyle this week on "The Tagalong," a pleasant surprise which will come in real handy once I have some time to get back to working on it. Right now I'm a little swamped, and paying work almost always takes precedence with me, less out of a great commitment to the almighty dollar, and more because I have a tendency of letting my projects take over my life. It's counterintuitive to deadlines to work on something unrelated for days until you pass out in a stupor, only to sleep said stupor off until you've made an acceptable dent in the sleep debt you've accumulated. It can get out of hand.
Discipline.
Since I haven't written anything I can really share, I'm going to link Amy Klein's recent blog post on the passing of Poly Styrene. Or maybe just prompted by her passing. It's called "Poly Styrene Takes Her Place in History" and like most things Amy writes, it has a lot more going on than just it's obvious topic. Which means even if you're not a Poly Styrene fan [and what's wrong with you if you're not?], you should probably read it anyway. I said this already on Twitter, but when Amy Klein blogs, I realize just how much I need to up my game as a writer.
I also got to read to someone this week. Joan Didion - not who I read to, but what I read to someone. I hadn't really read to anyone, hadn't really read out loud, in such a long time. And that was really nice too.
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