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 |  I blog therefore I (r)am(ble). |
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Poems, Prose, and Promises. My name is
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Given to me by susanL  --- Created by kelly1202I write songs
I write poetry
I write short stories
I'm in love with susanL
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| Tonight was the first round of elimination for the karaoke contest that I'm helping judge. All three of us judges were in character: Don was Randy, Vera was Paula, and I was Simon. Yes, that's right, I was the asshole. And I think I pulled it off marvelously. To the point of us having to remind the contestants that we were in character. Anyway, most of the people who showed up, both to watch and to perform, enjoyed the show and didn't take any of the comments personally. At least two people, however, either didn't get that we were trying to respond as we felt Simon, Randy, or Paula would respond or they were in character as irate fans/participants. We had eighteen contestants and each one sang one song. At the end of their song, they were told to stay on stage while each of the judges assessed their performance. Randy went first, Paula went second, and I, as Simon, went last. One of the contestants who didn't seem to get what we were doing, was so upset that he walked off stage before I could critique him. I asked into the microphone, "Aren't you going to wait around to here what I have to say?" He walked over to the judges table, got right in my face and said, "I don't care what you have to say. You're a f***ing douche bag. It didn't dampen my enjoyment of the evening though. Needless to say, he was one of the ones who was eliminated. Then, about halfway through the evening, this guy hands me a note written on a cocktail napkin. It read, "R U music majors?" We didn't think so." I had a lot of fun with that. So, there's only four more weeks of the contest. By the last week in November or so, one of them will have won five hundred dollars, at least one of them will want to personally cause me bodily harm, and hopefully, the rest of them will have enjoyed the entertainment. Or, at least, most of them. |
| About a month ago, my wonderful friend, Deb, asked me if I would be a judge in a Karaoke contest that her and her husband were sponsoring along with the local chapter of the American Legion. Knowing my propensity for over-extending myself, I told her to give me a day to think about it. I kind of thought I would turn it down, but the more I played with the idea of being Simon Cowell, or Randy Jackson (sorry, I don't have the body to be Paula Abdul) once a week, the more I was excited by the idea. It would be like an exotic vacation. But, I couldn't take an exotic vacation. My life is too busy for me to get away. That's when it hit me. Too much of life involves trudging through heavy swamps simply because they sit in front of where one wants to go. Here I was, ready to turn down an exotic vacation so I'd have enough energy for stomping through the sludge. Right then I made the decision to participate in the contest. And what a great decision it was. I have thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of my involvement. The last three weeks were qualifying. We listened to, praised, advised, and goaded almost forty local singers unto the elimination portion of the event. The elimination portion begins this Friday. Depending on how many of those who have qualified show up, my two partners and I may be listening to almost forty different performances and deciding which are the strongest and deserve to move on. It's going to be a harried night, that's for sure, but I'm eagerly anticipating every second of it. |
| A few weeks ago, I blogged about having one of my photographs accepted at Crossings in Zumbrota, MN for their annual Poetography event. The award ceremony was held this past Friday. As usual, Marie did a wonderful job as master of ceremonies, introducing all of the photographers and poets, and holding up their work so that everyone could see the photo being considered while the poet read their poem. Very classy. Once again, here is my photo that was accepted: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Coleen L. Johnson from Rochester, MN submitted the poem that won with my photo. With her permission, here is her poem: Driving On Grass (by Coleen L. Johnson) Not a farm, not now that the granary sags south and its doors don't close anymore. Not a farm anymore now that the cows are sold and the pastures are grown up to box elder and poplar. No tractors rut the spring mud in the yard with their VXVXVX prints that force out any sign of green until the snow comes. The tractors sit in the shed now, the farm's own Mona Lisa and Venus, awing a crowd of one who lifts their oil-soaked tarps each week and tests their starters, checks the tires, the oil, and gives them a pat on the rump. In the lean-to, only the mower and a drag remain from the army of planters and rakes and balers that once attached themselves to the famous. All history now, all memories of hard work well done, of wishing for an easier life. All past now, shingles are beginning to fly off the shed roof when the big storms come. The driveway has grown up to grass except— except every time he drives the car around the house on the soft green where the ruts used to be he knows again the summer days when the truck tires bubbled over newly cut hay ground to check a fence or the corn cobs' progress and all the world was his just for driving where there was no road. I love the beautiful poem that my photo inspired in her. Plus, after the show, I learned that my simple shot of a decrepid shack was one of the two that had inspired the most poem entries. “Opportunity…often it comes in the form of misfortune, or temporary defeat.” Napoleon Hill |
OK, I've finally figured out where my blogger's block has been coming from. I am currently in the process of tossing that nasty block out of my life. Stay tuned, for shortly, I will have plenty to say.  |
| My dad is in the hospital again. This is the fifth time in the past month or so. It should only be four times but for some reason they sent him home last Sunday even though his blood pressure was still above 200/100 and he was having trouble talking. My sister had just arrived from Seattle for a visit and went to the hospital to visit dad only to find that they had him on a transport and were sending him back to his assisted living home. It wouldn't be so bad but it's an independent living environment so he would be pretty much on his own most of the time. So, back to the hospital he came. I met him at the emergency room after work. He recognized me immediately and seemed alert although I could tell that he was confused about where he was and what was going on. We all waited around emergency that night until we could convince them to admit him. Something happened yesterday though. Around five in the evening or so, he lost the ability to construct whole sentences. My first thought was he had a stroke or a TIA or something, but the CAT scan didn't find anything out of the ordinary. He smiled when we told him jokes and he liked to hold hands but he couldn't communicate to us verbally. For awhile, he was holding his stomach and we asked him if his stomach hurt but he didn't respond. Then, he started to vomit and we realized that he must have been upset. “Opportunity…often it comes in the form of misfortune, or temporary defeat.” Napoleon Hill |
| Have you ever had a defining moment? You know, one of those split-second decisions that changed dramatically everything that followed? I had one when I was nineteen years old. I was engaged to be married and scared of how I could take care of a family with a simple entry level job, no skilled work experience, and no college. Well, the way I handled that was to sign up for the army. I figured it would be a tough two or three years, but then I'd be able to properly support a family and kids and all that. The defining moment, however, was not joining the army. It was signing up for Airborne Training. When I went to the MEPS station to sign up for the delayed entry program, they showed me a film about jumping out of planes. It scared the beejeesus out of me. The plane they showed was small and the noise intense. The people looked like they were almost running as they moved toward the end of the plane and jumped out. My first instinct was to avoid that at all costs. But, another voice, a quiet one, said, "that looks exciting." Then they told me that I would get an extra $110 every month for hazzardous duty pay if I signed up. So, what would I do? I thought about it for a few moments and then decided that I could use the money and that I had to stand up to my fears. That decision, to do something even though it nearly paralyzed me with fear, changed the whole direction of my life. Once I successfully made it through the training, I realized that my fear had been irrational in comparison to the actual risk. I realized that it was to my advantage to confront that which scared me rather than shy away. So, my recommendation to you is don't let fear be the deciding vote on whether you do something or not. If that's the main or only thing holding you back, take a deep breath, stare whatever has you frightened in the eyes, and give it hell. |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** For the second year in a row, I have had one of my photos accepted in Crossings at Carnegie's annual Poetography competition. Last year they accepted a photo I took of a Denny's restaurant sign in front of an amazing sunset. I loved the juxtaposition of one of nature's most beautiful sights and one of man's most ubiquitious. My photo for this year is entitled Ramshackle. The shack sits on my cousin, Patrick's farm. I think the stoic determination to remain standing is both a comfort and a reminder for us all. I should note that both this year's photo and last year's photo were taken by me, but were first noticed by my brother. He has a great eye for composition and neither of these photos would exist if it weren't for him drawing my attention to them in the first place. Thanks Ron! |
| The last ten weeks at Goonies have been a blast. I’m developing a routine that’s fun to perform and still makes me laugh even though I’ve been doing some of the material for more than two months. I’m learning how to be a stand-up comedian from those who already are and I’m putting this valuable information into practice each week. Last week was the first time I performed my first set without running out of material. In fact, I had to cut my homophobia routine short when they flashed the dreaded flashlight indicating that time’s up. I didn’t do so well on the second set as I didn’t have any other material prepared, but I did try out a couple ideas that I thought were funny. This week, since there were so many comics, we were only allowed to get up once, but we had a full eight minutes to perform instead of the usual five. The extra time was awesome. I did the five minute routine I had prepared and then I went into my new jokes. It was amazing. I was in the moment and in touch with the audience. This was beyond a doubt the best performance I’ve ever given. I started out with my ventriloquism bit and then transitioned into my dating spiel. Then it was on to my homophobia set. I just love my homophobia jokes and am happy to announce that this portion of my act keeps growing every week. I don’t see why I couldn’t build that into an entire ten minute routine. The segue from my homophobia jokes to my republican jokes never gets a laugh and I’m not sure why. Maybe the audiences I’ve been playing for are too conservative. Here’s what I do. After I finish my last homophobia joke, I say, “Speaking of homophobia, the Republican National Convention is coming to Minneapolis.” Nothing. Not even a snicker. Perhaps it’s too cliché. I don’t know. Anyway, then I go on to say how excited the mayor is with the anticipated, economic impact from the convention. “He’s expecting the sales of Depends and Geritol to be through the roof.” That always gets a hearty laugh and I’m sure that’s more cliché than the connection between homophobia and Republicans. Oh well. C’est la vie. My new material went over better than I had expected. I think part of it is because the audience was happy with me and thus more likely to give me the benefit of the doubt. But, I also think I have some great new stuff. The biggest laugh I got all night was from a new joke I wrote about the movie Hairspray, Scientology, John Travolta, and Tom Cruise. They ate it up. Five friends of mine from work, all girls, came to watch me perform. They have been coming every week for a month now and I just love their support. This time though, the place was so crowded that instead of sitting at their favorite table over on the right side of the room, they sat with me at my table. I normally sit by myself so that before I go on, I can concentrate on what I’m going to say and then afterwards, I can think about what changes I want to make. But, I LOVED having them sit with me. Being surrounded by five gorgeous, young women did wonders for my reputation. I do a lot of gay and homophobia material and so after my set, Julie, the emcee, joked as I was walking to my seat, “Enough already, why don’t you just come out of the closet, Tom.” It was hilarious and everyone laughed. Then, she saw that instead of sitting by myself I was with a bevy of young ladies. A truly priceless moment. One of the coolest things about the whole evening, though, happened afterward. My friends and I were standing on the sidewalk in front of Goonies and chatting when one of the other comics came up and complimented me on my routine. Then, he told me that he had a gig for me. I gave him my phone number and he told me he’d call me Monday with the details. Yes! So while I don’t know exactly where this stand-up comedy road is leading me, I’m having the time of my life finding out. |
Hey everyone. Thanks for stopping by my blog. I have been writing a lot of poetry lately, but nearly all of them have been rather short. I'd sure appreciate it if you'd take the time to look at one or more of them and let me know what you think.
Thank you for your time. |
| My stand-up comedy word for the week is confidence. It is absolutely necessary to have it if you want to perform in front of an audience. You don’t have to appear confident to the audience, which I’ll touch on in a little bit, but you do have to believe in your material and your ability to make other people laugh. After last week’s show, one of the pros sat down with me and offered a bunch of invaluable advice on how I could improve my on-stage presence. The first thing he pointed out is that I needed to work on my confidence. I didn’t look like I belonged on stage. I didn’t know how to react to the mic stand, the stool, and the audience. Instead of exploding onto the stage and making my presence known by rearranging the mic stand to how I liked it and positioning the stool where I wanted it, I would simply walk up, grab the mic and start talking. Usually, this would leave the mic stand, sans microphone, standing right in front of me and serving as a distraction for the audience. Keeping in mind the pro’s advice, when the emcee called my name, I jumped up on the stage, shook her hand, and then went to work. I grabbed the microphone and asked the audience to give another round of applause for the comic that had gotten up before me. This allowed me to start out with positive energy and gave me the time to move the mic stand and set the stool beside me for my notes. Taking another cue from the pros, I started my routine by making a comment about the previous comic. That night was his first time participating in Open Mic night and so I said, “In honor of Colin’s first time, I would like to reenact my first performance. With that, I squinted into the bright lights, put on a look of terror, and said, “ooooh, shiiiiiit.” That was it. It got a laugh and I finally exuded the confidence that I had been missing earlier. It’s important, though, to recognize the difference between having and exuding confidence, and appearing confident. They might sound like they are the same things but there is actually quite a large chasm between the two. What’s necessary for success is having and exuding confidence. This is done by knowing your material and delivering the material successfully. It isn’t necessary, however, to appear confident. In fact, a number of comics have turned bumbling into an art form. The key is that even though they appear as incompetent, they are actually performing a rather difficult routine effectively. Without confidence, their comedic responses wouldn’t be matching up with their bumbling actions and instead of being entertained, the audience would simply be embarrassed for the comedian. This week I had confidence. I knew my material and had practiced my routine sufficiently. I was conscious of how I portrayed myself as I walked on stage and arranged my environment. I was alert to make eye contact with members of the audience. From the moment the emcee called me until the moment I sat down afterward, I was in charge of my performance. It felt great. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** OK, so I finally tried out the whole ventriloquism thing. And I sucked! OMG! I was a huge, steaming pile of disgusting suckage. Well, maybe I wasn't that bad but it's important that you picture me completely bombing as you read this. I'm sure some of you will find it easier to imagine than others. Have you got that image? Great, let's move on. Wanting to run with a "made of wood" theme, I named my little puppet buddy, Knotty. You know, knotty pine? Anyway, I'd written a bunch of jokes about his coniferous beginnings. For example, a bit into my act, Knotty complains about how I'm always making fun of his family. I respond with, "What do you mean? All I said was your mother was an Oak and you came along because your father was a little board." It did get a few laughs, but it was among only a handful of instances that were appreciated by the audience. I don't think the problem was with my jokes though, I think it was with my delivery. With visions of Edgar Bergen, Charlie McCarthy, and Moritmer Snerd bouncing around in my overly optimistic mind, I ordered my ventriloquism doll on line. I probably should have spent more time choosing the perfect one and getting to know it's inherent personality, but I'd already written the routine and I really wanted to see whether it was as funny as I thought it was. The jury's still out on that one, but even though I bombed, I still learned a lot and had an amazing time. Plus, bombing with ventriloquism gave me the perfect lead in for my second set. I walked up on stage, adjusted the mic, and announced, "From my first set, it's probably no surprise that I don't date much." I got the biggest laugh I've ever gotten from that, wholly based on how horribly I sucked at ventriloquism, and I ended up doing a fantastic job. I haven't used the ventriloquism dummy in my act since, but I do make a joke about him. I mention about how I was wanting to do a ventriloquism act but we had a major accident at the house. A huge fire. I announce that Knotty didn't make it. Then I say that I really thought he was going to but when he was crying out for help, this lady saw my lips move and saved me instead. I have developed a bunch of new jokes for this Thursday. Wish me luck. |
| Last week, my friend Dan talked me into going on stage with him and performing a stand-up comedy routine for Goonies open mic night. Since we have such a relaxed and effortless repartee, we thought it might be cool to just go up there and improvise. And by "WE," I mean "HE." Anyway, we did get up and it did turn out relatively OK. We didn't get a lot of (intentional) laughs, but we didn't get pummeled by wave after wave of semi-pliable foodstuffs either. In fact, according to Dan, the manager of the place asked us to come back. I have to take Dan's word on this since I couldn't find the door quick enough once it was all over. I wasn't exactly embarrassed, but I sure didn't care to hear the kind of comments I would have made after a night like that. For whatever reason, I believed what Dan told me and agreed to do the same thing the following Thursday. The plan was the same as before. Neither of us would prepare anything; we would just get up and see what we could improvise. Well that was the plan until Thursday anyway. Around three in the afternoon, the day of the show, Dan comes into where I work and says that he thinks we might do better if we each do our own routine. I was taken a little aback, but I've learned that even when Dan's schemes sound a tad hair-brained, they usually do work out fine. So, I decided to go along with his plan. The coffee shop I work at closed at eight that evening. I figured I'd get off by eight fifteen and make it to the club by eight thirty. The show started at seven thirty. That meant I had a chance of taking part in the first wave. It also meant that I would have zero time to prepare a routine. Luckily, work was slow. I spent the rest of the evening running all the jokes I could remember through my mind. I started to feel like I was going to be OK, but I still didn't have anything to open with. I needed something to grab their attention, make them want to listen to me. Then it hit me. It wasn't especially funny or clever, but it was one hundred percent mine and it was something that I could remember in time for the show. So, I developed it as best I could in my mind and then jotted down a few notes about it – just in case. I got off work on time and made it to the club about the time I had been expecting. The guy who was performing when I arrived was the same guy who was HILARIOUS last week. Once again I was very grateful that I wouldn't have to perform directly after him. The next comic up was my friend Dan. He walked up on stage and after having them lower the lights a bit so that he could see the crowd better, he said, "everyone who masturbates raise your hand." Well the crowd loved him from that point forward and he did an amazing job. He did so well in fact, that I began to suspect that he didn't come up with the idea for us to work separately that afternoon. At any rate, while Dan was doing his thing, the emcee came up to me and told me that I'd be after the guy who followed Dan. Yikes! It was starting to sink in. Not only was I going to have to go up there by myself, but I was going to have to compete with Dan's excellent performance. The guy before me wasn't good or bad. He was the Where's Waldo of comedians. That was just what I needed though. The emcee called my name and I jaunted (love doing that by the way) up to the stage. I was definitely nervous but I was confident as well. From the semi-success of the previous week to the little bit of time I'd been able to prepare my routine, I felt positive that I could do this. "OK guys, I need you to back me up on this," I said in opening. "Don't women truly have it better than us? The guys were sounding off with "hell yes" and the women were rolling their eyes, but both groups were paying attention to me. "They live longer. They get flowers sent to them. More often than not, they don't have to pay for dinner on their dates. And, as we learned last week, guys get speeding tickets; women get WARNINGS." By this time, everyone in the place was silent and paying attention to what I was saying. I was amazed because deep down, I knew it wasn't that good of joke. But they were giving me the benefit of the doubt while they waited eagerly for the punch line. "So, I had to think of something that we men have over the women," I continued. "Then it hit me." I looked down at my shirt. "As long as I don't change my shirt, I have a permanent record of everything I've had to eat that day." I pointed to a spot near the bottom. "See, here's breakfast: ham and eggs. Up here we have chicken parmesan from dinner." The cool part was that even though this joke was about a seven or eight on the lame-joke-o-meter, it still got me going and got them listening. I was able to do almost the full five minutes and I did get plenty of laughs. I was nervous as hell and wondering whether I'd lost my mind leading up to the show, but from the second I started speaking, I knew this was something I could do. The club puts on two shows every night. The emcee asked me if I wanted to do the second one too. I told him that I didn't have anything prepared but that I could tell some jokes or something. He said with a hint of sarcasm, "that's kind of the point," and shook his head. I did get up for the second show and this time I opened with my bear hunting joke. On the first day of bear hunting season this hunter grabs his favorite rifle and makes a trek into the woods. He walks up this steep hill and into a quiet valley. There, in the distance he sees a bear. He raises the rifle to his shoulder and shoots. The bear falls down and the man runs over to where the bear fell, but when he gets there, the bear's not there. Then the man feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around. It's the bear. The bear says to the man, "there's only two ways you're getting out of here. Either I'm going to eat you and you'll get out when I take a dump or you can bend over that stump over there and let me have my way with you." The guy doesn't want to get it in the butt by the bear but he doesn't want to die either so he drops his drawers, bends over the stump, and lets the bear do his thing. The man leaves but he's pissed. He goes home and gets his bigger rifle and buys some hollow tip shells. Then he heads back out into the woods. He walks up that same steep hill and into that same quiet valley. Then, in the distance, he sees that same bear. He raises this more powerful rifle to his shoulder and shoots the bear seven times. The bear falls down. The man runs over to where the bear fell but the bear's not there. Then the man feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around. It's the bear. The bear says, "you know the deal." So the man drops his drawers, bends over the stump, and lets the bear do his thing again. Now the man is really pissed though. He goes out and buys a semi-automatic rifle with a laser sight. He gets three full clips of titanium bullets and he goes back out into the woods. He walks up that same steep hill and into that same quiet valley and sees that same bear in the distance. The man raises this super powerful weapon to his shoulders and lets an entire clip of bullets fly. The bear looks like he's dancing as the bullets slam into him. Finally, after shooting two entire clips, the man runs over to where the bear fell but the bear's not there. Then the man feels a tap on his shoulder and he turns around. The bear says to the man, "you don't come here for the hunting do you?" Well, even without any real preparation, my second experience with stand-up comedy was a success. I'm planning on doing it this Thursday too. Wish me luck. |
| I went to work on Thursday feeling pretty good. I only had to work my evening job that day. Shortly after I arrived, however, I started feeling stuffed up and began sneezing. It got worse as the night went on. Well, around five o'clock or so, one of my writing buddies from around here came into the store. He told me that he'd just been to Goonies (the comedy shop) and that he signed us up for a comedy gig. Yes, that's right, he signed us up to perform on stage. My first thought was NO WAY! I didn't have anything prepared. I just knew I'd make a fool out of myself. People from all over, including small animals and children, would tease me unmercilessly for the rest of my life. But, my second thought centered on how I don't like backing down from things that scare me. I joined the paratroopers in the army because the idea of jumping out of a plane frightened me. I send my stories in for publication because rejection terrifies me. I've done a lot of things in my life precisely because I have this crazy need to stand up to my fears. So, my second thought, the one I went with, was why the hell not? I still had a few more hours of work and I didn't want to drive myself crazy worrying about what a fiasco I would cause, so instead, I ran through a couple possible opening lines in my mind. Then, I imagined it being a blast. That helped a lot. So, I got off work and drove down to the club. Dan, my friend, was waiting at the back door to let me in. While we walked upstairs, he told me that our turn was coming up. He told me to just have a seat and don't worry. Yeah right. I can easily avoid worrying when it's my idea, but when someone else suggests it, I fret like the daddy of a fourteen year old girl on prom night. Anyway, I found my seat. Dan had mentioned when we talked on the phone earlier, that the comics weren't that funny. The idea was that even if we tanked, we wouldn't stand out in the suckage department. Well, the first guy I saw was good – damn good. I tried not to laugh at his jokes, hoping the others in the club would take my cue and not laugh as well. It didn't work. The more I tried not to laugh, the funnier the guy was. For the first time since Dan mentioned this idiotic plan to me, I felt scared. After the King of Comedy finished, the emcee announced a comedy duo. Dan and I stood up to go to the stage but it was a different duo. And thank God. A husband and wife, newly married but in their fifties, strolled up to the microphone and proceeded to BOMB. OMG! The audience started to feel sorry for them and offered a sympathy laugh or too, but boy did they stink. All of a sudden I felt invigorated and wasn't worried about being tarred and feathered before the night ended. The next guy was kind of funny. You could tell he was an amateur, but he did have a couple good ones. Then it was our turn. The emcee announced the second comedy duo of the evening, Dan and Tom (yeah, I guess he deserved first billing since he did all the work). We both stood up again. We both walked up to the front of the club and climbed onto the stage. We both stood in front of the microphone…and we stank. Not as bad as the other duo, but pretty bad. Dan was asking me questions and I was answering with one word answers. Our usual witty repartee had been replaced by the transcript of some blind date from hell. I had to do something. I grabbed the mic and told them my dad's favorite joke. Then I started winging it. I got a few laughs and Dan joined in. All in all, we still kind of stunk, but not as bad as I had imagined and definitely not as bad as we could have. I guess I'll always be grateful to Dan for giving me the kick in the ass. At the end of the show, the emcee mentioned an offer to see Friday night's show for only a dollar to those who had participated. So, I paid my dollar and was planning on going to see them perform this evening. But I kept feeling worse and worse as the night wore on. I woke up every half hour or so, tired as hell but unable to fall asleep due to my nose, throat, stomach or some other ailing body part. At six in the morning, I called my day job and told them I wouldn't be able to work. It was my turn to do the truck and while I may have been able to suffer through a few hours of working the register or cleaning off tables, I never would have made it through the hour or so required to stock the cooler and freezer. Even with my winter coat. I decided I would wait until eight to see if I would call in sick to my other job. I wasn't sure so I waited until nine, ten, and finally, at eleven, I called and told my evening job that I couldn't work either. It's a good thing I did too, because I'm still feeling so weak and tired that I'm a mess. Luckily, I don't work either job tomorrow. |
| I guess I'm a bit spoiled by how well-known and firmly entrenched National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) sits. The month leading up to this cornucopia of writing abandon is frenetic but in a controlled, deliberate fashion. Groups of writers with their ideas about write-ins and dares that have to be accepted pop up automatically and there is very little that a municipal liaison (ML) needs to personally direct. Enter Script Frenzy, NaNoWriMo's hyper-active little brother. Instead of writing a novel in thirty days, we are tasked with completing an entire screenplay or stageplay. And even though the word count has dropped from 50,000 down to 20,000, screenplay's leaner requirements still make this a formidable task -- but not impossible. The newness of Script Frenzy, however, means that the MLs need to invest a lot more time and energy to drum up interest. It's exciting but at the same time, it's a more than a bit daunting. I have already sent out an email to NaNoWriMo participants, posted official posters all over town, and notified all of the local newspapers and television stations. But now that the days remaining before commencement have dwindled down to single digits, I'm wondering what else I can to get people excited about this amazing event. If anyone has any ideas, please post them here. |
| My good friend, susanL , clued me in to Backwards City Review and their wonderful contests. They have one for fiction, one for individual poems, and one for poetry chapbooks. Ultimately, I want to enter all three, but for starters, I sent a story of mine called The Accident into their one for fiction. Here's the link: http://homepage.mac.com/languageismycopilot/backwardscitydotnet/contests/contest... |
| In the Summer of '99, a group of novelist-wannabes decided that the only thing standing between them and their literary dreams was a deadline strong enough to yank them off their duffs and put them to work writing. This small group, headed by freelance writer Chris Baty, took part in what they soon dubbed National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo for short. Every year since, normally in the month of November, people from all over the globe take part in NaNoWriMo and attempt to write a 50,000 word or greater rough draft in thirty days. The Office of Letters and Light, the non-profit organization behind NaNoWriMo, has announced it's latest offering - Script Frenzy. Taking place from June 1st through June 30th, 2007, the challenge is to bring to life a completed screenplay of 20,000 words or greater. No knowledge of screenwriting or formatting screenplays is necessary. The official site for Script Frenzy, http://www.scriptfrenzy.org, contains all the information you need to end the month with the rough draft of your up and coming masterpiece. |
| Note: I wrote this as an entry for one of my things at www.43things.com. Trust is alot like a winning lottery ticket—everyone wants one and everyone has their own method of trying to find one, but very few people actually manage to take home the jackpot. I’ve often wondered why this is. Since so many people would love to be in a relationship where they were loved, trusted, and understood, why is trust so difficult to procure? I believe that part of the answer lies with the cumulative aspect of trust. Both trust and distrust share this quality that makes each success and each failure apply to every consecutive exchange. Because of the aggregate facet of trust and distrust, many people, slammed hard in the heart by some insensitive asshole, never manage to build sufficient reserves of trust. Each hurt they endured plays to a sellout crowd on the synaptic screen of their mind. This is how it is for me anyway. Trusting myself means that I have to give tacit trust to those around me too, and while I desire to do this from a solely intellectual standpoint, I find it nearly impossible from deep down inside. The good news in all this, is that I am finally aware of the connection between trusting myself and trusting other people. I can finally give myself the valuable gift of trust even if those around me don’t prove trustworthy. |
| Anyone else concerned about the closeness in sound between public blogging and public flogging? Nevermind. No need to engender any fresh conspiracy theories. Although, it would explain a lot about... OK, work with me here. I'm trying to blog on what the networks call a slow news day. My socks were white. I wore a maroon work shirt, tan pants, and tennis shoes. My unmentionables will be conveniently unmentioned (except for that brief reference -- pun not intended). So, what kind of day did I have? A young girl I work with told me I'm sweet and a friend told me that I vex him. He's the kind of guy whom, I suspect, finds himself the subject of vexation a tad more often than the object. Which, of course, makes his being vexed by me all the more, well, vexing. Anyway, I like to think the young girl's right about my being sweet, but her reasons for thinking such are way different than mine. She thinks I'm sweet because every time I visit my dad, I stop and say hi to her grandma who lives right across the hallway from him. I guess it's a sweet thing to do, but I doubt I'd visit her if she wasn't such a kind and wonderful lady. I've known her for about three years now. She sits right next to my father at the dinner table and she plays piano whenever they have any kind of party. Physically, she's tinier than a whiff of smoke and about as delicate, but spirit-wise she's what corner stones look to for support. She's Irish too. And very proud of her heritage. Talk to her for awhile and she'll probably send you off with an Irish blessing. So, her grand-daughter, whom I work with at my evening job, thinks I'm sweet because I talk to her inspiring grandmother. I think I'm sweet because I looooooooove chocolate. In fact, I think I'm going to finish off this bag of M&Ms I've been munching on while I ponder whether there's any truth to the saying, You are what you eat. |
| A good friend of mine, susanL , made a comment to me about how little I blog. Most people put something up every day and I'll go weeks sometimes without posting anything. I guess I just don't consider my life that interesting. I work two jobs, between fifty and sixty hours each week, and spend my off time either sleeping, eating, visiting, surfing, writing, or reading. Here's my life. I work my morning job, have a half hour off and then work my evening job. I get home around eight-thirty in the evening and check my email. Then, I spend the next three hours writing, reading, or watching my favorite DVDs. Finally, around midnight or so, I head to bed and get up at eight o'clock the next morning and start all over again. I get every Tuesday and Saturday off at my evening job and either Friday and Tuesday or Saturday and Sunday at my morning one. On the days I work only my evening job, I sleep in late as I'm usually exhausted. On the days I work only my morning job, I spend my afternoon and early evening at some coffee shop writing. On the rare days where I have off both jobs, I sleep in late and spend some time at a coffeeshop. On Saturday evenings I take my dad out to dinner and on the last Tuesday of every month, I meet with my writer's group, Writer's Ink. So there you have it. I'm sure I could find something to blog about every day, but pretty soon people would know all the colors of my socks and what my favorite shirts were and I'd have to start describing the texture of my vitamins. So, basically, the reason I don't blog every day is to save the world from having to suffer through detailed descriptions of Walmart brand supplements. |
| I went to see The Peaceful Warrior with my mom and younger brother this evening. The movie was great, but I had a little adventure before the show even started. My mom and brother weren't thirsty, but I wanted a soda to sip on during the movie. So, while they went to save seats, I stood in that intimidatingly long refreshment line. It took forever to get up to the front, but at least there was a bit of entertainment along the way. Like the lesbian couple on their first date who were directly in front of me. One was loud and one was quiet so while I was not two feet from both of them the whole time, I only got to hear one side of their conversation. Apparently, the quiet one had set something up to ensure a second date and the loud one thougth it was sweet. I sure wish I could have heard the other half of that. Anyway, I get my soda and figure since I'm going to be drinking throughout the movie, I better empty my bladder before hand. So, I walk to the closest rest room, glance at the photos of famous actors as I enter. Tom Cruise; Brad Pitt; Tom Hanks; Mel Gibson; and others. Something seemed weird, but I continued along. "Huh," I thought as I tried to find the urinals. I looked all around, but there didn't seem to be any. It was then that the significance of the rest room's walkway portraying MALE actors hit me. This was the ladies room. I turned around and high-tailed it to the exit, passing one surprised lady in the process. But, I garnered more atthention than just hers. Oh yes, I also attracted the attention of someone else. An asshole, or at least someone strongly resembling an asshole, had noticed me going in the wrong door and decided to make sure I felt like a total moron. First, as I was exiting the woman's door, he went up the little sign that said "ladies room," and with a hint of surprise in his voice he said, "huh, this is the woman's bathroom. Probably for women." I rolled my eyes and shook my head, but he wasn't done. Oh no, he wanted to increase my uneasiness and embarrassment while increasing his pleasure. I found the rest room with the female actors on the wall. You know, the one with urinals and I hooked up with one and prepared to pee. Unfortunately, the asshole took the one directly next to me. It wasn't bad enough that he was determined to make my humiliation complete, but he was also about a billion feet tall and so with all that happening, I couldn't pee. I could hear him peeing. I could hear others peeing. When I glanced to my left, I could see him towering over me, nodding his head, and smiling like some moron just went in the wrong restroom, but I couldn't have peed if my thingy would have been on fire. The asshole finally finished up his job and left. With him gone, I finally managed to pee, washed my hands, and made my way to the theatre. So, here I am, a forty year old man, out to the movies on a Saturday night with his mom, hounded by some moron who just can't get over my rest room mishaps, and I get to the theatre and find that the movie has already started. My mom, always good with unnecessary questions, asked me, "Was there a long line?" At least the movie was good. |
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