Look at how the kick stand is over the line. And the drape of his motorcycle sheath is most certainly falling into my space. He taunts me by leaving the wheels on his side. Oh, how he taunts me. Or she.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Illustration
With regards to my earlier posting on my invaded parking space, below is a photograph of the previously mentioned invasion. This is right off the presses, current to Saturday, 10/27/07.
Look at how the kick stand is over the line. And the drape of his motorcycle sheath is most certainly falling into my space. He taunts me by leaving the wheels on his side. Oh, how he taunts me. Or she.
Look at how the kick stand is over the line. And the drape of his motorcycle sheath is most certainly falling into my space. He taunts me by leaving the wheels on his side. Oh, how he taunts me. Or she.
The orator, Pt. II
It appears that the video link within the posting below wasn't functional over the weekend. From what I can tell, it's up and running.
Apologies for any wheel-spinning you may have endured.
Apologies for any wheel-spinning you may have endured.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
The orator, Pt. I
For those of you who missed it live a few years ago, here is a video of my college commencement address.
I remember that writing the speech was a difficult process - particulary the parts where I attempted to come up with something that wasn't reminiscent of the "off into the world" speeches that I had heard before. The speech went through about five drafts, finally resting on this version. The bulk of the text was written while waiting on lines at Six Flags during Senior Week. Kudos to ZNog for helping me sort through the catalogue of dialogue lines on the table AND for encouraging me to eat a whole turkey leg right before riding the Batman ride.
I remember that writing the speech was a difficult process - particulary the parts where I attempted to come up with something that wasn't reminiscent of the "off into the world" speeches that I had heard before. The speech went through about five drafts, finally resting on this version. The bulk of the text was written while waiting on lines at Six Flags during Senior Week. Kudos to ZNog for helping me sort through the catalogue of dialogue lines on the table AND for encouraging me to eat a whole turkey leg right before riding the Batman ride.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Mixed signals
Just back from a weekend in Ann Arbor with Tiniest. The Michigan University campus is pretty close to what you'd expect for a school of that stature - rolling quads, interesting mix of campus architecture, and a main drag with independent bookstores, coffee shops, and an Urban Outfitters.
It was a great weekend getaway. As usual, eating was a HUGE part of the experience. With that in mind...
I strongly recommend you visit Zingerman's, a combination delicatessen/grocery that has a real slant towards organic and local ingredients. We bought more cheese than should be allowed to sit unrefrigerated on a four-hour drive.
On the other side of the coin, I strongly do NOT recommend you visit the restaurant pictured below. While I am unsure of its intentions in a rather unfortunate name, I would rather not find out by actually going inside. There are a few permutations that make me instantly lose my appetite.
A free haiku is offered to anyone who can give an acceptable explanation of this name. $100 to the owner of this restaurant if s/he participates in a interview with me regarding their corporate branding.
Ann Arbor, MI; 10/20/07 @ 6:00pm
It was a great weekend getaway. As usual, eating was a HUGE part of the experience. With that in mind...
I strongly recommend you visit Zingerman's, a combination delicatessen/grocery that has a real slant towards organic and local ingredients. We bought more cheese than should be allowed to sit unrefrigerated on a four-hour drive.
On the other side of the coin, I strongly do NOT recommend you visit the restaurant pictured below. While I am unsure of its intentions in a rather unfortunate name, I would rather not find out by actually going inside. There are a few permutations that make me instantly lose my appetite.
A free haiku is offered to anyone who can give an acceptable explanation of this name. $100 to the owner of this restaurant if s/he participates in a interview with me regarding their corporate branding.
Ann Arbor, MI; 10/20/07 @ 6:00pm
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
No one listens
I wrote the title to this post before actually thinking of what I wanted to write.
The gist of it was the people tend to care more about the sounds of their own voices rather than engaging in the actual conversation they pretend to be in. Apparently, I was so interested in coming up with a witty headline that I forgot to pay attention to my brain that was trying to come up with something worthwhile to discourse.
And although this is not a first (for anyone), I do take offense that I have effectively tuned myself out.
Also on the subject of listening...
I happened to catch episode 1.02 of Cavemen. For those who haven't seen Cavemen, it's ABC's most recent effort to change itself into brothel. They've actually outdone themselves as the premise for Cavemen stems from television commercial characters.
However, it should be noted that I did laugh at the following scene:
- Two cavemen are looking at a website about Russian mail-order brides
- Another caveman comes in; this caveman is the most "modern human" of all of the cavemen, and tries to convince his compatriots that they should assimilate.
- The two cavemen looking at the website about Russian mail-order brides start talking to each other in Russian.
- The "modern" caveman looks at them sternly and asks them to stop talking in Russian.
I believe that this was a subtle reference the possibility that primative man may have crossed the Bering Strait. The Bering Strait separates Russia from Alaska and it has been hypothesized that man may have walked this distance in prehistoric times.
Or maybe it was a bullshit throw-away line and I wasted my laughter.
Someone please find me a writer from Cavemen to confirm the intent of this joke.
The gist of it was the people tend to care more about the sounds of their own voices rather than engaging in the actual conversation they pretend to be in. Apparently, I was so interested in coming up with a witty headline that I forgot to pay attention to my brain that was trying to come up with something worthwhile to discourse.
And although this is not a first (for anyone), I do take offense that I have effectively tuned myself out.
Also on the subject of listening...
I happened to catch episode 1.02 of Cavemen. For those who haven't seen Cavemen, it's ABC's most recent effort to change itself into brothel. They've actually outdone themselves as the premise for Cavemen stems from television commercial characters.
However, it should be noted that I did laugh at the following scene:
- Two cavemen are looking at a website about Russian mail-order brides
- Another caveman comes in; this caveman is the most "modern human" of all of the cavemen, and tries to convince his compatriots that they should assimilate.
- The two cavemen looking at the website about Russian mail-order brides start talking to each other in Russian.
- The "modern" caveman looks at them sternly and asks them to stop talking in Russian.
I believe that this was a subtle reference the possibility that primative man may have crossed the Bering Strait. The Bering Strait separates Russia from Alaska and it has been hypothesized that man may have walked this distance in prehistoric times.
Or maybe it was a bullshit throw-away line and I wasted my laughter.
Someone please find me a writer from Cavemen to confirm the intent of this joke.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Voice ID
From time to time I end up on the phone with customer service agents. Tonight, I had the pleasure of two such conversations.
The first was with T-Mobile, who has the most incredible agents in the business. Just give them a call, you'll see. Every time you call because you're overcharged for minutes or your phone breaks, it's like you get a new friend. This isn't bullshit either -- they really do have a great system.
Call #2 was to United Airlines. And for maybe the thousandth time the agent thought that I was a woman. They come off so quickly with the "ma'am," even now it still catches me off-guard. The conversation gets so deep into my air travel that although I cringe everytime I hear him call me "miss," I am too polite to note the correction. Then again, I've also agreed to let a man most likely in Bangalore give himself the name Johnny Ricardo. Who am I to tell people what they can and can't be?
But I ain't no "Miss Justin."
I'll be the first to admit that my voice doesn't sound like Morley Safer's -- but I like to think it sounds masculine. Or at least vaguely non-feminine.
The first was with T-Mobile, who has the most incredible agents in the business. Just give them a call, you'll see. Every time you call because you're overcharged for minutes or your phone breaks, it's like you get a new friend. This isn't bullshit either -- they really do have a great system.
Call #2 was to United Airlines. And for maybe the thousandth time the agent thought that I was a woman. They come off so quickly with the "ma'am," even now it still catches me off-guard. The conversation gets so deep into my air travel that although I cringe everytime I hear him call me "miss," I am too polite to note the correction. Then again, I've also agreed to let a man most likely in Bangalore give himself the name Johnny Ricardo. Who am I to tell people what they can and can't be?
But I ain't no "Miss Justin."
I'll be the first to admit that my voice doesn't sound like Morley Safer's -- but I like to think it sounds masculine. Or at least vaguely non-feminine.
The process
I've spent the past few weeks trying to resurrect the creative side of things in my life. It's been a while since I've been in a comedy troupe or had regular stage time. The muscles have atrophied a little bit but they're coming back.
Sometimes the process is kinda screwy.
Today I was working on an opening scene for a 1/2-hr comedy pilot script. I'm writing this one with a terrific writing partner, so we'll see how it passes the mustard after she takes a look at it.
The general premise of the scene is that two featured characters have an informal meeting, not knowing who the other is and what the actual relationship to eachother is.. At the end of the scene they'll formally meet and more will be revealed. There are a lot of cliched ways this scene could go. For example, if this was a romantic comedy we'd see two characters screaming at each other and at the end of the scene we'd find out they're in-laws-to-be. Something like that.
While that forumla seems to work well ( I've got dibs on the above scenario) and sell well, I am trying to avoid something so contrived.
This is what I worked on today. In about four hours I wrote by hand a couple of options that could work. Most of them perfect examples of already-been-done. Right around the time that option 4 was complete I stood up and looked a picture of a frog that Tiniest took in Costa Rica.
And then I figured out option 5. It seems to work.
I relayed this experience to Minto who said that it sounded like a transcript from a David Lynch movie.
I agree.
But that's the process. Sometimes you spin your wheels and the smallest detail can set you back on your path.
Sometimes the process is kinda screwy.
Today I was working on an opening scene for a 1/2-hr comedy pilot script. I'm writing this one with a terrific writing partner, so we'll see how it passes the mustard after she takes a look at it.
The general premise of the scene is that two featured characters have an informal meeting, not knowing who the other is and what the actual relationship to eachother is.. At the end of the scene they'll formally meet and more will be revealed. There are a lot of cliched ways this scene could go. For example, if this was a romantic comedy we'd see two characters screaming at each other and at the end of the scene we'd find out they're in-laws-to-be. Something like that.
While that forumla seems to work well ( I've got dibs on the above scenario) and sell well, I am trying to avoid something so contrived.
This is what I worked on today. In about four hours I wrote by hand a couple of options that could work. Most of them perfect examples of already-been-done. Right around the time that option 4 was complete I stood up and looked a picture of a frog that Tiniest took in Costa Rica.
And then I figured out option 5. It seems to work.
I relayed this experience to Minto who said that it sounded like a transcript from a David Lynch movie.
I agree.
But that's the process. Sometimes you spin your wheels and the smallest detail can set you back on your path.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Biotechnology essays are my favorite
Thanks to Beard for this link. We've had a number of ideas of this variety. At least someone is making money. See below for the item to which David Sedaris refers.
Stadium Pal
Stadium Pal
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Ghost Dad meets Gone Fishing
Earlier today I had the beginnings of an amazing idea for a movie. This came from a discussion with Todd about how we have been trying to take a trip out of the country together for the past 6 years.
Here's the pitch:
With the Living
International Supernatural Buddy Comedy
Synopsis: Two 80-year old friends (Abe and Tom) dream of taking an international vacation with each other. When they are both killed during a freak Fourth of July parade accident, they begin their new existence as ghosts. One of the benefits of being ghosts is that they can inhabit living bodies for a period of time. Seizing the opportunities they never had while living, they possess two young travelers (Kyle and Jake) and live vicariously through them. However, when Abe and Tom realize that they can commit crimes and never be punished, all bets are off. With the police on their tail, Kyle and Jake wonder why they can't remember the horrible deeds they've done, and Abe and Tom try to figure out what they really need to do to get them into heaven.
Starring: Ryan Reynolds / Dax Shephard / Jack Lemmon (CGI) / Walter Matthau (CGI)
Status: In development
Here's the pitch:
With the Living
International Supernatural Buddy Comedy
Synopsis: Two 80-year old friends (Abe and Tom) dream of taking an international vacation with each other. When they are both killed during a freak Fourth of July parade accident, they begin their new existence as ghosts. One of the benefits of being ghosts is that they can inhabit living bodies for a period of time. Seizing the opportunities they never had while living, they possess two young travelers (Kyle and Jake) and live vicariously through them. However, when Abe and Tom realize that they can commit crimes and never be punished, all bets are off. With the police on their tail, Kyle and Jake wonder why they can't remember the horrible deeds they've done, and Abe and Tom try to figure out what they really need to do to get them into heaven.
Starring: Ryan Reynolds / Dax Shephard / Jack Lemmon (CGI) / Walter Matthau (CGI)
Status: In development
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Still relevant
Folks, this comes straight out of the 2004 archives. Can you believe it? Three years later and nothing has changed. How about that?
All of this is true. No shit.
Winter, 2004
Dearest Friends,
Just before the holidays I had a profound experience that I wanted to share with all of you. As many of you know, I am a strong believer that since there are so many different energies around us we have to be open to receiving all the good, bad, and crazy in the world.
Mark this down in column three.
Recovering from a disappointing late-fall Spin class, I decided to vent the failures of the early morning by taking a few moments in the sauna. With my water bottle half full, clothed in a towel, I sat on the pine bleacher-style seat and enjoyed a relaxing beginning to an otherwise normal Tuesday.
Twenty minutes into my retreat, my water bottle was drained -- typically, this is when I retire to the showers and begin my standard morning routine.
Not today.
Two visitors joined me. The first was an Italian gentleman wearing a track suit. The other, in similar attire, was R. Kelly. The first question that comes to mind when encountering a male celebrity in an au natural setting is, “How big are his balls?” Mr. Kelly’s balls were nowhere to be seen, buried under a layer of NBA warm-up gear, sneakers, and, I think, a turtleneck.
For those of you who may not be familiar with R. Kelly, one of the finest R&B artists/child rapists of our time, here is a link to Mr. Kelly's bio.
Let’s pause for a moment. It’s 7:00 a.m., almost 160 degrees -- no odds-maker could have predicted this encounter.
Another member of his entourage entered, this time wearing camouflage pants and a hooded sweatshirt, carrying a small cooler of Gatorade. I looked out the window of the sauna door and saw the gentleman who I believed to be R. Kelly's sentry wearing a full parka with fur hood.
After a brief exchange including: “Where is it,” “It’s on the bus,” and “Well, go get it,” we were once again left alone. What “it” was or why “it” was so important is left to the ages.
Deciding that I had to unpurse my lip, lest the opportunity escape, I remarked, “I feel under dressed.” A cheerful observation on my obvious nakedness and their clothedness.
R. KELLY: Man, really? I’m cold in here, I’m trying to get a blanket or something.
My mouth tried to say "huh" but my brain was trying to conserve energy.
R. KELLY: This is how we do it.
TRAINER: If you’re here to just exfoliate, you do it like you’re doing it. But if you’re here to lose a few pounds, this is how we do it.
R. KELLY: This is how we do it.
R. KELLY & TRAINER: This is how we do it.
R. KELLY: This? I don’t feel nothing.
Taking a sip of his chilled Gatorade, he then pulled up the leg of his warm-up pants to show an under-layer that resembled a garbage bag with the NBA logo on it. Something to really seal in the heat.
At this point I make a conscious note that I am out of water.
This is not an excuse for the following comment.
ME: You’re all wrapped up like a turkey.
Then there was silence. I thought to myself, “What does 'turkey' mean? Is it slang for ‘you’re a rapist,’ or ‘please, sexually assault me in the sauna?’”
At this moment, the clouds part and I am met with a moment of clarity. I realize that I am white, naked, and have zero street-cred.
They laugh and nod in true Trainer/R.Kelly rhetoric -- whether or not it’s in reference to my comment is between them. R. Kelly and his trainer have a very intimate grammar, with neither actually needing to finish sentences, although the other clearly knows the intent.
I closed my eyes, rapidly approaching the thirty minute mark. Should I stay? Should I go? When else will I have an opportunity to spend time with one of the world’s top-selling recording artists? This was a man who urinated on a 14-year-old in a Chicago McDonald's, then followed up with one of the most amazing albums the world had ever heard. His record label had so much confidence that he would beat the child-rape charges that they actually allowed the album title to read The Chocolate Factory.
The silence broke again as a rather large, naked, man flew through the front door. With his milky white skin and salt-and-pepper hair, he looked like he was on furlough from Planet Accountant. Taking one look at the pastoral scene he proclaimed, “Man, it’s hot in here,” and promptly left.
R. KELLY: What does that fool think? It’s gonna be cool in here?
TRAINER: It ain’t cool in here.
I nodded in agreement. I also started to see spots. Most importantly, I tried to look cool as I eavesdropped, redistributing my body’s precious (and rapidly evaporating) sweat over my burning flesh.
They discuss the wake-up time in the morning and how the trainer will be there right when he wakes up. Very paternal, indeed. And then there was something about a night shift, but the specific details were unknown to both of them. Apparently R. Kelly's days are 100% scheduled, although the person that keeps the schedule was not in the sauna, locker room, or easily accessible at that moment.
Finally, knowing my limits, I got off the soaked pine bench and made my way to the door. I nodded and dropped a, “Have a good one, guys,” on my way out and was met with reciprocity.
The cool air calmed my screaming nerves, glad to be out of the pressure cooker. As I showered, dried off, and put on my non-NBA-issue sneakers, I welcomed the return to reality.
All of this is true. No shit.
Winter, 2004
Dearest Friends,
Just before the holidays I had a profound experience that I wanted to share with all of you. As many of you know, I am a strong believer that since there are so many different energies around us we have to be open to receiving all the good, bad, and crazy in the world.
Mark this down in column three.
Recovering from a disappointing late-fall Spin class, I decided to vent the failures of the early morning by taking a few moments in the sauna. With my water bottle half full, clothed in a towel, I sat on the pine bleacher-style seat and enjoyed a relaxing beginning to an otherwise normal Tuesday.
Twenty minutes into my retreat, my water bottle was drained -- typically, this is when I retire to the showers and begin my standard morning routine.
Not today.
Two visitors joined me. The first was an Italian gentleman wearing a track suit. The other, in similar attire, was R. Kelly. The first question that comes to mind when encountering a male celebrity in an au natural setting is, “How big are his balls?” Mr. Kelly’s balls were nowhere to be seen, buried under a layer of NBA warm-up gear, sneakers, and, I think, a turtleneck.
For those of you who may not be familiar with R. Kelly, one of the finest R&B artists/child rapists of our time, here is a link to Mr. Kelly's bio.
Let’s pause for a moment. It’s 7:00 a.m., almost 160 degrees -- no odds-maker could have predicted this encounter.
Another member of his entourage entered, this time wearing camouflage pants and a hooded sweatshirt, carrying a small cooler of Gatorade. I looked out the window of the sauna door and saw the gentleman who I believed to be R. Kelly's sentry wearing a full parka with fur hood.
After a brief exchange including: “Where is it,” “It’s on the bus,” and “Well, go get it,” we were once again left alone. What “it” was or why “it” was so important is left to the ages.
Deciding that I had to unpurse my lip, lest the opportunity escape, I remarked, “I feel under dressed.” A cheerful observation on my obvious nakedness and their clothedness.
R. KELLY: Man, really? I’m cold in here, I’m trying to get a blanket or something.
My mouth tried to say "huh" but my brain was trying to conserve energy.
R. KELLY: This is how we do it.
TRAINER: If you’re here to just exfoliate, you do it like you’re doing it. But if you’re here to lose a few pounds, this is how we do it.
R. KELLY: This is how we do it.
R. KELLY & TRAINER: This is how we do it.
R. KELLY: This? I don’t feel nothing.
Taking a sip of his chilled Gatorade, he then pulled up the leg of his warm-up pants to show an under-layer that resembled a garbage bag with the NBA logo on it. Something to really seal in the heat.
At this point I make a conscious note that I am out of water.
This is not an excuse for the following comment.
ME: You’re all wrapped up like a turkey.
Then there was silence. I thought to myself, “What does 'turkey' mean? Is it slang for ‘you’re a rapist,’ or ‘please, sexually assault me in the sauna?’”
At this moment, the clouds part and I am met with a moment of clarity. I realize that I am white, naked, and have zero street-cred.
They laugh and nod in true Trainer/R.Kelly rhetoric -- whether or not it’s in reference to my comment is between them. R. Kelly and his trainer have a very intimate grammar, with neither actually needing to finish sentences, although the other clearly knows the intent.
I closed my eyes, rapidly approaching the thirty minute mark. Should I stay? Should I go? When else will I have an opportunity to spend time with one of the world’s top-selling recording artists? This was a man who urinated on a 14-year-old in a Chicago McDonald's, then followed up with one of the most amazing albums the world had ever heard. His record label had so much confidence that he would beat the child-rape charges that they actually allowed the album title to read The Chocolate Factory.
The silence broke again as a rather large, naked, man flew through the front door. With his milky white skin and salt-and-pepper hair, he looked like he was on furlough from Planet Accountant. Taking one look at the pastoral scene he proclaimed, “Man, it’s hot in here,” and promptly left.
R. KELLY: What does that fool think? It’s gonna be cool in here?
TRAINER: It ain’t cool in here.
I nodded in agreement. I also started to see spots. Most importantly, I tried to look cool as I eavesdropped, redistributing my body’s precious (and rapidly evaporating) sweat over my burning flesh.
They discuss the wake-up time in the morning and how the trainer will be there right when he wakes up. Very paternal, indeed. And then there was something about a night shift, but the specific details were unknown to both of them. Apparently R. Kelly's days are 100% scheduled, although the person that keeps the schedule was not in the sauna, locker room, or easily accessible at that moment.
Finally, knowing my limits, I got off the soaked pine bench and made my way to the door. I nodded and dropped a, “Have a good one, guys,” on my way out and was met with reciprocity.
The cool air calmed my screaming nerves, glad to be out of the pressure cooker. As I showered, dried off, and put on my non-NBA-issue sneakers, I welcomed the return to reality.
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