THIS HERE’S A BALLAD FOR THE GOOD TIMES

[written Friday, 6/20, Portland International Airport]

I’ve only been in the airport maybe 45 minutes at the most, and already I am longing for real air. Perhaps it was the train ride, too. All day I am going to be breathing thick, manufactured air, pumped out of a vent. The head will never be the same.

The week has been a bit of a rush. Duklyon was turned in Wed., and I already have an assignment for another series. Non-CLAMP, looks like a romantic comedy—and that’s all I can say. Tokyopop is holding off on the announcement while details are sorted out.

Finished up the Hawaiian Dick afterword and gave it to Clay on Wed. I think it turned out all right. I am amused that I used a drug metaphor for the book.

Been trading e-mails with Scott Ciencin over the YA genre series. I really wouldn’t be able to do this without him. It’s such a different headspace than I am used to. We have to think in the long-term, as well as thinking for selling this to a publisher. This means dealing with plot machinations and character types, and things that I don’t fully understand, so I follow behind and let it soak in. I guess it’s wrong to say I don’t understand since I do get it. I do know how these pieces are put together and are cut off a very old and reliable block of story stuff, it’s more I don’t think that way. It’s like if you ask me for the plot of Cut My Hair or The Everlasting, I can’t really give you the pitch. I am not a linear writer who thinks about plot or throughlines or the essence of a character. I am far too half-assed for that—so this is all educational and possibly good for me. I also talked a bit to the man who will likely represent me as an agent.

*

I went to see Blur at the Roseland in Portland last night, and I had a real blast. Before I get into the show, I do have one:

Notice: They play the music loud because you are not supposed to be having a conversation during it. If this was meant to be a social gathering, they would play the music soft so that you and your dimbulb date could talk right through the whole thing. This applies to Matthew McConaughey-wannabes in bad sandals, even. Was that you? I am glad you found this, because you needed to hear what I have to type. I appreciate irony, so you please me in some sick way in that you sure have very little to say for someone who talks to so much. But then, that’s why no one here likes you.

Okay, now that that is out of the way…

I’ve seen Blur four times now. The first was on the tour for The Great Escape, when it snowed outside and we snuck our way in for soundcheck and just acted like we belonged. The second was an amazing whirlwind trip to San Francisco, a week before the self-titled album came out in North America, for an insane and buoyant show where everyone knew the words to all the new songs. (This was the days before downloading, and so we all had promptly bought the import, unwilling to wait.) I saw them again after that in Portland, when they came through a second time for the same album, after the success of “Song 2.” The jubilant tone of the previous show was replaced by a standoffish professionalism. It was still a great concert, but for the people who knew the one song off the radio more than the fans. (Though, we did get one of the early outings of “Swallows in a Heatwave,” a lost classic if ever there was one.)

They haven’t been to Portland since—and when was that? ’97? It’s a couple of interesting albums later, and despite the main Portland paper (hello, you shitpile, Willamette Week) possibly having no clue that Think Tank even exists (yes, asshead, a band would tour on a three-year-old greatest hits package, wouldn’t they?), people remembered, people came, and people were conquered.

Still, Blur is what, 13 years old now? Some of us are getting on in years. Which made it all the more shocking to discover that Blur hate fat people! That’s right, you heard me. Damon Albarn, Dave Rowntree, Alex James—they despise the portly members of their audience. How else can you explain that they only had one T-shirt in XL? Sure, their merchandise shill said they had run out since the tour was almost over, but dammit, you bring more XL than anything else, since your fans are turning into fat fogies! Plus, the remaining XL was the worst shirt they had. Fuckers.

Ignoring their anti-chubby politics, though, one must admit that the show was fantastic. And just as Albarn’s writing shifts from album to album, he once more brought a whole new stage persona. Backed now by ex-Verve guitarist Simon Tong, along with the regular rhythm section, and the addition of three back-up singers, a keyboardist/saxophonist, and a second man on percussion, Damon has dropped the eager popstar manicness and is now the drunken elder statesmen, showing up and doing the job and somehow making it look easy, unrehearsed, and bloody brilliant. There was a little Mark E. Smith in his staggering swagger, and maybe even a little Tom Waits, too. He’s still gripped by the passion, surely, but he’s very much in control of it, and he needn’t work it too hard. Just let it be. It gave the performance an air of spontaneity, a looseness that nearly suggested they were just making it all up on the spot and that for as much as it was good, it could disintegrate at any second—a difficult task, creating a false danger. But that’s rock ’n’ roll.

Think Tank was the most-represented album, which is as it should be. “Brothers & Sisters” swept everyone up in a sense of community, and “Battery In Your Leg” is an amazing set closer. “Gene By Gene” is as fun live as on record, and “Crazybeat” fits well alongside “Song 2” as crowd-pleasing noise. The only disappointment was “Out of Time.” There was something wrong with the mix, and a bit of keyboard racket was stepping over the melody.

A nice grab bag of oldies also served us well. “Girls & Boys” may have seemed a little perfunctory, but “Beetlebum” still maintains its lackadaisical charm. “Trimm Trabb” slid in quiet and then grew to fantastic, “For Tomorrow” jumped in our midst like the hero it is, and “Tender” had the sort of elegiac, uplifting grace that you expect from something with gospel trappings (which is the whole point of gospel, which is what its detractors don’t get, since they are wrong in the head and sniff too much ink). Damon led us to believe that “To The End” was a recent addition to the set, and this was the third airing on the tour, and it’s still lovely. Highlight, though, had to be “Badhead,” both because it was an unexpected choice, and just because its simple melody and off-kilter instrumentation make you realize that Blur hasn’t gone that far away from their early days, that the anything-goes feeling was always there. (Though, early B-sides and tracks like “Sing,” I’ve always argued, pointed a clear path to 13, still their best record.)

The encore was a perfectly chosen four-pronged music weapon. “Popscene” still has the power to thrill, and serves as a great coda to a night of musical abandonment. Damon got pretty animated. This is Blur’s “I Can See For Miles.” It was followed by “On The Way to the Club,” which they linked up with the amazing “We’ve Got a File On You,” two-minutes of glorious, paranoid, accusatory, angry punk. The capper, though, was “This is A Low,” perhaps the most life-affirming sad song there ever was. I think it’s impossible not to crumble and sing along to it, and it’s the greatest high to be sent out into the night air on.

Current Soundtrack: Blur, Parklife

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FEELBAD TIME

UPDATE: Turns out Beck, destroyer of everything good, wrote the Pink theme for Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle. This explains its craptacularness.

WE’RE LIVING IN A POP TRASH MOVIE

I saw 28 Days Later last night. As a Danny Boyle fan, I was pretty pumped for it, but I was still ill prepared for how much I loved it. I’m not a real horror buff or anything, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a trailer for a zombie movie and thought to myself, “Man, I have to see that!” But this hooked me from the word go, and it never shook me off.

In fact, Boyle and screenwriter Alex Garland smartly started the film off with a shocking bang. This was a Friday night sneak preview crowd, and they were rowdy in line and amped up, but the opening sequence shut them up fast, and the film kept them enthralled all the way through. For my part, I was thoroughly creeped out, and I jumped like a scaredy cat in all the right places. I never saw where the film was going, and in a final 1/3 that reminded me somewhat of Apocalypse Now’s scenes where Marlowe gets to the farthest outposts, Boyle was able to transfer the horror from the infected to the non-infected and bring home his metaphor of the violent nature of modern man in extremely effective ways.

The whole film was shot on DV, giving it a low-fi but immediate look/feel. And even on the shoestring it must have been produced on, Boyle still managed to find ways to keep his exciting visual style. I think the whole film was shot at a breakneck pace, and it made me start to ponder such a thing in prose. What is the novel equivalent of guerilla filmmaking? Is it a caffeinated full-tilt-boogie of typing? Bang out the manuscript as fast as you can?

Of course, I ask this as I tread my way through Duklyon swamp, first thing in the morning down at Starbucks. The coffee is eating away at my stomach—a massive mocha this morning meeting the coffee from last night (the final swig at the theatre giving me a mouth full of grounds, and me having to spit it out in the middle of a quiet moment in the movie), but I am determined to get through this. It’s a little easier this time just because it’s not as repetitive. Volume 2 has a driving narrative for at least the first 2/3 or so, rather than a play on the repetitious monster-of-the-week superhero TV shows.

Current Soundtrack: Duran Duran, Pop Trash

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WHERE HAVE ALL THE GOOD TIMES GONE?

UPDATE 1: This is for those of you wondering why the hell I haven’t been updating (well, all one of you). The simple answer is I have been lazy and haven’t been doing much writing. Part of it is that I have had a houseguest for nearly two months now, so it’s a different scenario when I go home. If any of us ends up on the computer, it’s usually her, looking for a job so she can get out of my house. Plus, just being more social, makes me lazy.

I have, however, just started work on Duklyon volume 2, which I hope will go a lot more easier than the last one. I am also in the middle of an afterword for the collection of the comics series Hawaiian Dick. I want both done by next Thursday morning, since I am seeing Blur on Thursday night and then leaving on Friday for NYC to the MOCCA show.

Also, I did a quick review of the anime Voices of a Distant Star for the Oni Mailing List (sign up at onipress.com), and Corey Henson at NewType posted it to ADV’s site here.

UPDATE 2: Scott Morse, artist of Visitations and the forthcoming Barefoot Serpent, bought the same bootleg of Last Temptation of Christ from the same eBay dickhead. Amusing coincidence.

Current Soundtrack: Petey Pablo, Diary of a Sinner: 1st Entry

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TO ALL YOUR FRIENDS YOU’RE DELIRIOUS

Tuesday night I put on my Pop Pants! and went to see Justin Timberlake and Christina Aguilera.

Okay, I don’t have literal Pop Pants!, it’s a metaphor. But I did wear new shoes and I have the big nasty blisters on the back of my ankles to prove it. Bad move!

Black Eyed Peas opened the show. I caught most of the set, but it was kind of muddy (the sound would, as per usual, get progressively better through the night). They closed with their current single, but sadly, without Justin contributing. In fact, there was to be no artist crossover for the night. I had heard a rumor that Christina was going to fill in the female parts on Justin’s “Rock Your Body,” but no dice. And why not have the Peas sub for Clipse on “Like I Love You”?

After BEP, the interim music was predictably pop. A couple tracks of Sean Paul, who is just ghastly…but then, strangely, a Led Zeppelin track. “Kashmir” maybe? The one Puff Daddy sampled. More ghastly, but at least odd.

Christina’s set began with a short filmed piece, using the intro from the Stripped album. It also confirmed we were going to get the new dark-haired pop vixen. It looks good on her, as does the added weight—which really has just bulked her up enough to look like a normal girl. She opened with “Get Mine, Get Yours,” and was instantly on vocally, but she didn’t really hit her stride performance-wise until a few songs in. Specifically, the new dirge-rock version of “Genie In A Bottle.” This made her my new goddess. As skuzzy guitars rendered the song unrecognizable, she rolled out onto the stage dressed in leather and strapped to a big metal X. There was fire shooting up from around the stage, and the whole thing was so over-the-top, so unashamedly Spinal Tap rock ‘n’ roll, I fell into a big pile of awe.

Little did I know that it would get better. The next song, “Can’t Hold Us Down,” saw her sliding into a biker jacket and getting on a pink motorcycle. The bike went up on its back wheel, turned, and even shot sparks out the tail pipe. “Make Over” was next, with Christina dancing in front of a chain link fence and behind a strobe light for the frenzied chorus. It was the most punk rock thing ever! (And has anyone noticed the similarity in the verse melody of “Make Over” to the Sugababes’ “Overload,” and even the mention of the word “overload” in it?)

It wasn’t all rawk and leather, though. Her best outfit of the night was probably the red, satiny number she wore for the duo of Etta James covers. She also did a classy runthrough of “Impossible” atop a piano, very torchy, and an acoustic “Come On Over (All I Want Is You).” In fact, all her versions of the hits off the first album were done with a little bit of a skew to them, thus getting around her attempts to distance herself from the material. She even managed to work DMX’s “X is Gonna Give it to Ya” into “What a Girl Wants,” the show closer. I imagine every time she does, Earl’s ears prick up somewhere, like the dawg that he is, and he thinks, “What the fuck?” It was pretty ballsy.

The encore was, of course, “Beautiful.” Christina came out in a white T-shirt that said “God Sees No Color” (admittedly, giggle inducing) and jeans, pretending she had forgotten to do an important song and apologizing. She did the first verse a cappella, and her voice sounded amazing. The band kicked in and carried her through to the end. It was a real high to finish on.

The anticipation for Justin (or should we say J.T.?) was palpable. These were teenage hormones we were dealing with, and there is nothing like a rush of sexual excitement to get a girl’s throat going. No, not like that, dirtbag! I mean the screaming! It was deafening, really crazy and ear-shattering.

Justin’s set was extremely polished and had a lot more pyrotechnics. He opened with “Rock Your Body,” and after a few more from Justified, he did a couple of N’Sync tunes—“Gone” and “Girlfriend.” He followed with “Cry Me A River,” complete with backing vocals from four different singers. The soundman outdid himself mixing it. It was clean and clear and totally crisp. This has to be one of the best pop songs to come out in the last decade, if not the last couple.

Unfortunately for J.T., just as it will likely be the best song he’ll ever record, “Cry Me A River” was also the peak of his set. I am not sure what left the stage, whether it was just the material doesn’t compare or more likely, it was all just too polished. He and his dancers and his band were so well practiced, there was no danger of a mistake—and it kind of drew the life out of it. He also did an extended section between himself beatboxing, his drummer, and his DJ that was pretty cool, but perhaps too long, and it killed some momentum. You have to give him credit, though, for getting a couple thousand teenage girls singing the parts to Afrika Bambaataa’s “Planet Rock.”

He did bring it back for the encore, I will admit. “Like I Love You” is an unbelievably cool dance track, and it got the arena to its feet. I even did a goofy robot dance for the amusement of my friends.

Overall, an impressive night, and an ace example of how good big shows could be. I even bought a Christina T-shirt, which I will wear unironically, of course.

I do find the whole thing frightfully amusing, though.

Current Soundtrack: Radiohead, Hail To The Thief

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UPDATE: Mark Coale at Odessa Steps Magazine chided me for not plugging his Criterion poll, so please go here.

LIES LIES LIES YEAH

I have been having an interesting exchange with a distinguished member of eBay who sold me some goods that I don’t think are what were advertised. My friend Rebecca is a big fan of Last Temptation of Christ, and prior to her going to China, she had lost her copy of the Criterion DVD. I told her I’d try to find her one cheap on eBay, and sure enough, won her one for $26 with postage.

The disc arrived yesterday. It was a Hong Kong bootleg. I flipped out. I immediately went back to the auction and read the description again. It said: “Brand New, Sealed, Last temptation of christ dvd. Starring: Willem Dafoe, Harvey Keitel Director: Martin Scorsese Playable: Import, Region 1 Format: Color, Closed-captioned, Widescreen, Dolby Rated: Not for sale to persons under age 18. Studio: Home Vision Entertainment DVD Release Date: April 25, 2000.”

I had missed the word “import.” I had seen “New, Sealed” and “Region 1,” and I guess glossed over the one important word. The picture was too small to tell if it was different or not, as well. I realized that this was my own fault, to a degree, so I decided I was stuck with it and left the following feedback: “Neutral : Buyer beware: sells imports, but you have to read close. Screwed myself. :(”

But then I thought about it more, and talked to James about it, and we decided that the description was intentionally vague, and that because it wasn’t a real Criterion disc as he had claimed, that I had been a victim of false advertising, import or no. I decided then that I would see about a refund. So, I e-mailed the seller: I left you neutral feedback on eBay because techincally, it was my fault that I didn't see that this was an import, and you'd respond like all the other negatives that you had "clearly" listed it as such. I take exception to the clearly bit. It seems like you are purposely a little vague. And overall, I don't feel even if was an import that you are actually selling a real Criterion disc, so it definitely borders on false advertising. Preferably, I'd like to return this for a refund.

I figured if I got any response at all, it would be to tell me to fuck off. This is what I got (all e-mails are unedited): YOU LEFT ME A BAD FEEDBACK BECAUSE "YOU" DID NOT READ THE AUCTION CORRECTLY AND EEDED SOMEONE TO BLAME, BUT I LISTED THE AUCTION ACCURATELY AND DID NOT LEAVE OUT ANYTHING. ALL OF MY OTHER FEEDBACKS HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS TRANSACTION, AND IF YOU MUST KNOW WHEN I WAS NEW TO EBAY, I THOUGHT A DVD WAS JUST A DVD I DID NOT KNOW ABOUT IMPORTS AND REGION 1 DVDS, O I GOT OFF TO A BAD START AND NOW WHEN I LIST IT CORRECTLY YOU HAVE PEOPLE LIKE YOU WHO STILL LEAVE DERAGATORY REMARKS AND BLAME IT ON ME, BUT IT WILL BE RECIPROCATED, THANK YOU.

My second e-mail: You can feel free to reciprocate, that is your right and what the feedback was for. My neutral feedback clearly stated I should have read closer. BUT...you are still dishonestly selling "Criterion" DVDs. What I received is not a Criterion. It is not official. That is false advertising.

Seller e-mail #2: you left neutral feedback stating YOU SHOULD HAVE READ CLOSER, that makes sense, but make no sense to leave that on my feedback as I did not make the mistake. the dvd as an all region dvd, if you do not know what an all region dvd is: it means it is playable around the world and since the majority of criterion dvds come from abroad this should be nothing special as it is an authentic import.

This I felt caught him in a lie, and so I went for it: Ummm, actually, read your own description. It says a Region 1 import. If you said it was Chinese or All Region import (as you claimed in your last e-mail), that would have been one thing--because then I would have known it was a bootleg. But you're right, I shouldn't have left the feedback without e-mailing you first, and realized after I did it I had likely screwed myself out of any chance of a refund. I'll live and learn. (At this point I was figured a little bit of mea culpa couldn’t hurt.)

Then came seller e-mail #3, which cracked my shit up: the dvd itself is an ALL_ REGION release and since I know a lot about movies and you dont seem to know that much, its says playable, import, region 1, if the movie is all region it can play everywhere. And a bootleg movie is a movie that is copied from the movie theater with a video camera.

If I have to point out how far off he is about me and my knowledge of film and DVDs—well, it’s ludicrous, isn’t it? I decided to nip the exchange at this point, but not without a little edumacation: Listen, man, we can go on and on about this all day, so we may as well stop. You're entirely wrong, and have no idea what you are saying when you refer to "all region" vs. "region 1," etc., etc. Region 1 is only playable in the US...and hence has a region, is not all region. A bootleg is an illegally made copy of a DVD, which is what you get from Hong Kong. This is not an official Criterion release, they did not see a dime off its manufacture or authorize it. That is a bootleg.

Here is a little bit of information about Criterion bootlegs:
http://www.criteriondvd.com/bootlegs.asp &
http://members.ebay.com/aboutme/waskydiver/ (Note in particular the DVD-9 bullet point)

Last Temptation is not listed directly in either, but it still illustrates my point. You are not selling authorized Criterion releases. If you don't believe me, please go to the Criterion website (http://www.criterionco.com/asp/) and ask them.

But seriously, we're never going to agree. You can tell me I am stupid all you want, and I will laugh. I apologized for leaving the feedback without talking to you first.

I haven’t heard back, and don’t really expect to. He left me negative feedback: “Complaint : DOES NOT READ LISTING CORRECTLY, AND BLAMES SELLER FOR HER MISTAKE.” I laughed a lot. I also e-mailed Waskydiver, who I have spoken to before when we both got screwed by a seller on an out-of-print Criterion, and I am getting him a cover scan. He has already alerted his contact at Criterion that these false versions now are out there.

I do find the whole thing frightfully amusing, though.

Current Soundtrack: Duran Duran Duran Duran (the second self-titled album)

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JUST BECAUSE YOU FEEL IT DOESN’T MEAN IT’S THERE

Finished Gravitations 3 last night. It had another wordy short story at the end, but this one was actually kind of fun. It had a guy chasing after a young girl and insisting he wasn’t a Humbert Humbert--sort of like how none of the boys in the main story are gay when they kiss. Ironically, the author had a note about how the short story wasn’t very good. I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.

*

I had a couple of great teachers in college. I hated my academic experience overall, but there were a handful of classes that really made a difference for me, and it was usually down to the teacher. In fact, I learned quickly if you found a good teacher, you should stick with him or her. Stephen Cooper and Charles Webb were two writing teachers who pushed me in the right ways; I forget the name of another who unwittingly did the same. You can take two semesters of novel writing, and he was teaching what was to be my second. Only he wasn’t going to allow me to continue the book I started (Cut My Hair) because it didn’t “interest” him. I went and sat down at my desk, stood back up, and walked out. My only regret is that I had taken the first week and had been forced to read not only The Firm, but a completely useless textbook on how to write a novel (tip: they're all useless).

Another great teacher was Dr. David Peck. He was particularly helpful in talking about 20th century American literature and the novel of initiation—which is kind of what I was working on. (He even wrote a book on the subject.) His colleague was Dr. Charles May. May’s specialty was the layered nature of fiction, how story exists on many planes at once and can be sliced up and peeled like an onion. (He also wrote a book, Fiction’s Many Worlds, that is excellent, but for some reason very expensive.)

He came back to me as I rewatched Adaptation this weekend. This movie that seems to confound so many (or cause them to declare it pretentious and boring) seems so natural and obvious to me, and I am guessing it’s all down to what I started picking up from Dr. May.

For me, the key to Adaptation is to approach the many possible layers, the worlds that exist simultaneously and parallel. We begin with (1) the real world Charlie Kaufman, who is a screenwriter hired to adapt (2) the fictional world of Susan Orlean’s book, which actually also could cause (1) to intersect with (3) the real world Orlean. Ultimately, what he hopes to create is (4) a motion picture version of (2). The difficulty of that task causes (4) to mutate and splinter, creating more layers: (4a) the fictional world of Charlie Kaufman, where he is writing (4b) his version of The Orchid Thief. Within that is (4c), what he imagines as the real world of Susan Orlean (something that might have stuff in common with (2) and (3), but not necessarily, just as (4a) is only a representation of (1)). Further, we get (4d) the life of Donald Kaufman, his brother, and (4e), the screenplay Donald relates to Charlie, The 3. Midway through the film, we also get (4f), which is where Donald takes over the screenplay (after Charlie sees Robert McKee and calls his brother to New York), taking it to his own conclusion, scooping up (4a), (4b), (4c) and his own (4d) along the way--and with the brothers singing “Happy Together,” even incorporating (4e). (In fact, aren’t Charlie, Donald, and Susan really a reflection of the multiple personality character Donald has created for The Three?). By the end, we have (5), the actual film Adaptation, a combination of all of those elements.

Not stopping there, we also have (6), the viewing public. This is the story we create just by trying to peel the onion, and to pierce the mythos crafted around the film—such as wondering whether Donald Kaufman is an actual person or not. I would argue that the discourse around the film, that the people loudly questioning the fabric of it in the theatre when I saw it, added another layer to the metafiction Kaufman and Spike Jonze created.

But, it’s important to remember, even in discussing (1), (3), or (6), that there is no reality, per se. In trying to decipher what did happen and what didn’t, keep in mind that what is actually on film is all story, all crafted by an author. It doesn’t matter what “really happened,” but what triggered each onion petal.

A lot of DVD collectors have avoided buying the Adaptation DVD out of the fear that there will be a better version later, featuring special features, not just the bare bones release we have now. I actually hope that doesn’t happen, unless what they present only serves to obscure the onion’s construction further. A serious commentary on this movie, at least if presented by the filmmakers, would destroy the experience. Adaptation shouldn’t be explained, only deciphered. And trust me, the second time around, it makes even more sense. Every screenwriting trick Donald and Charlie learn along the way sets up the final act, and so many of the other elements end up foreshadowing or reflecting others.

I have no idea if this will make sense to anyone but me, but I was mainly writing this to run through the gears in my own head anyway.

Current Soundtrack: Tricky, Vulnerable (currently being streamed at anti.com)

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HERE COMES THE MUSIC

NOTICE: Wearing backpacks to concerts is a bad, bad thing. If you’re that guy, the one who shows up to general admission shows with a backpack full of crap, I have news for you: there is nothing in your nerd bag of tricks you need! You wandering through the crowd bumping people because you have no clue how big that hunch on your back is just makes everyone hate you.

NOTICE #2: If you’re going to need more beer every second or third song, pick a place near the bar. Being on the opposite end of the club from the bar, and having to push your way back and forth every time you need to get your drink on will make everyone hate you.

NOTICE #3: If you can’t get there on time, stand in the back. If a band has been playing for an hour, chances are the audience has worked out a system where everyone is comfortable and can see. You haven’t earned the right to be as close as we have, and frankly, you should learn a little etiquette. No one likes going from having a perfect view to only being able to see the singer’s head. This is why everyone hates you.

These are the things I learned at the Ash concert last night. I also formulated a plan for world peace. I—and I alone—will be issued a billy club, and if you commit any infraction against what I think is right and proper, then I will club you. I will have to answer to a weekly committee and explain my actions, just so I don’t go around willy nilly clubbing people unchecked—but my power is absolute and fighting back only gets you in more trouble. I recommend buying stock in razor companies, because bad beards are going to get people clubbed left, right, and center, and I imagine many will be shaving after I take over.

The Space Twins opened for Ash. This is the side band for the guitarist from Weezer. It was decent stuff, but exactly what you’d imagine. Like Weezer without the melody. It was one of those bands where the players were so incredibly competent, that they were also incredibly bland. Their technical skill superceded any emotion or power. I hate to put it this way, but it’s generally the same sound you hear with any band formed by guys with money. It’s like a trust-fund kid band, where everyone has great equipment, knows how to use it, but has no charisma or anything to really say. Super Deluxe were a NW band in the mid-‘90s that very much typified that. Most recently, I’d say Phantom Planet is the shining example—Hollywood kids who make a passable Beach Boys meets the Byrds sound, but who ultimately bore.

Ash, however, delivered in a big, big way. It didn’t matter to them that they were playing a tiny club, they gave it everything they had. Tim Wheeler was all over the stage, and his guitar playing skills in particular impressed in comparison to Space Twins. He really knows how to play, but yet, the guy has such a magical knack for a tune, it’s astounding. They focused primarily on material off of 1977 and Free All Angels, deviating only for “A Life Less Ordinary” (yay! this was the one song I went in thinking if people shouted for requests, it’s what I’d shout for! (something you always should decide on before going in)), a surprising “Jack Names the Planets,” and the opener was a B-side whose name escapes me (maybe “No Place to Hide”?). They closed the set with an amazingly fun version of “Kung Fu,” and the encore was a raucous “Burn Baby Burn.” They also did two new songs that, as expected, kicked ass. “Evil Eye” is going to make a great A-side.

There is just something about Ash that is so true. The local paper wrote in their preview of the show that Free All Angels had five honest singles on it, and that’s pretty accurate. Just about every song they make would be at home on the radio. It seems a crime given all the crappy punk rip-offs making waves in America right now that these guys aren’t selling billions of discs.

I even bought a T-shirt, if for no other reason than my old school “Three Boy Hardcore Action” shirt from 1996 has contracted cancer and needs to go to T-shirt heaven.

Current Soundtrack: Ash, Intergalactic Sonic 7”s

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YOU, WHO DO YOU HATE?

This is such a pet peeve of mine. I get one of these e-mails every couple of weeks:
what's an unsolicited submission, and how do I give you a solicited one?

Seriously, this is like, the most basic of information. If you're thinking of entering any creative field, if you can't tell the difference between a submission that has been asked for and one that hasn't, then you shouldn't try. At least spend some time with a dictionary and see if you can't figure it out on your own, so that if you ask how to get solicited, you know what you are asking for. Then again, if you have to ask how you can get solicted, then the answer is likely that you won't be. I can't be any less blunt then that. The thing is, too, the person who sent this e-mail got the e-mail address off the contact page of the Oni website, which has the Oni FAQ, which tells people how Oni looks at work.

I am not sure why I chose to put that in here, but given all the articles I've been involved in lately talking about the submissions process, it seemed to make sense.

Current Soundtrack: people talking outside my window

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SMOKESTACK LIGHTNING

Don’t worry. Today I am a mixture of unawake and chipper. It’s a get-up-and-go Saturday. It’s 8:30 a.m. and I just booted up and I am a third into my bagel and just a couple sips into my iced mocha.

Joy Division, The Complete BBC Recordings

When I got here, there was someone I worked with over five years ago at Dark Horse getting ready to leave. I spotted him, but he didn’t spot me. He’s a nice guy, but really, I have no interest to play catch-up. So we have to switch on. The game is appearing less aware than you are. Always know where your avoidance target is, but always manage to be looking the other way. Turn and go off in a different direction when he nears you. Hide in plain sight, but always be prepared for it to go south. Have plausible deniability at the tip of your tongue. “Oh, I didn’t see you.”

I’ve been known to shop, go through whole stores, always staying just out of sight of someone I know. How invisible can one become? Usually, it’s pretty easy to do, just because in general people aren’t very alert to their surroundings. We’re too comfortable in our public lives, and you can easily take advantage of a situation just by paying attention to what is around you. Then again, who is to say they aren’t running the same game on me?

*

Before I left the house, I managed to catch the new Sugar Ray video for the second time. What is up with that? I mean, beyond Mark McGrath’s hideous hair crime (bleached and shaggy? Whaaaaa? Buy a comb, millionaire!). Are they trying to be Pink now? Are they coming up to get my party started? They’ve always had armpit stains of desperation forming on their career, witnessed by how quickly they settled into pattern, going from lame rock band to lame soft rock band to churn out a couple of extra hits that closely resembled their first hit—but this, this is just sad. Next single will be about how McGrath is his own worst enemy.

Massive Attack vs. Mad Professor, No Protection

I’m trying to listen to as much electronic music as possible when working on Gravitation. Shuichi’s band, Bad Luck, is kind of an OMD-type band—electronic with guitars. A little Gary Numan, perhaps. There is also a bit of overly emotional poetry in the smattering of lyrics we’ve gotten for his character—so good, moody stuff like Joy Division also helps out. Gets me in the right place to do whatever it is that I do. (And actually, OMD’s Organisation is next in the stack (I had to bring CDs with me, since no MP3 player). It’s cold and pretentious, arty and distant—perfect for Gravitation’s confused romance. And the Dandy Warhols new, electro-driven album, Welcome to the Monkeyhouse cued up right in time for a performance section.)

And speaking of the MP3 player, perhaps the greatest tragedy is not being able to get into the drive and remove the files. Not that I am losing anything I don’t have on disc (as far as I know), but more for some of the folders I had built. Collections of Geneva, Suede, and Paul Weller, in particular, where I gathered all the b-sides and compilation tracks I had, creating folders with 40 or more songs—not impossible to rebuild, but still frustrating.

Current Soundtrack: cable radio, new wave station (currently Oingo Boingo's "Weird Science")

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WHEN I'M DRUNK I DANCE LIKE YOUR DAD

Havent been doing a lot of serious writing lately, but just for the hell of it, wrote a couple of reviews on Amazon.

*

Tinka by Rainy Dohaney (aka Renee French)

[five stars] Sweet as can be, and gorgeous to look at..., May 18, 2003

Reviewer: Jamie S. Rich from Portland, OR USA

This is that rare and special kind of children's book that doesn't play to any particular age or audience, instead choosing to exist in a world where every breathing soul can enjoy its simple message and its fun delivery.

Dohaney's theme isn't new. Her young lamb Tinka follows her dreams, finding the courage to accept her own individuality and seeing life beyond the confines of the tiny farm where her family lives. What's special is that the discovery of this courage does not come at the expense of that family unit--in fact, it enhances Tinka's place amongst the herd (and not in some scary conformist way, either, but in a warm and fuzzy good way).

Adding further to the specialness of the book is Dohaney's unique vision. Tinka's world is not a conventional one. It's filled with oddball characters and a vivid imagination that allows a field of flowers to be seen as a giant spider by those unwilling to look beyond their fenced-in pens. The illustrations have a loving depth of detail, with small touches like ever-present insects used to add an extra dimension to Tinka's farm, bringing it all to life. Dohaney's soft colors are gorgeous, too, and you'll want to spend a good amount of time looking at them even after you're done reading the words.

All in all, a special debut. I plan to buy a couple of copies and give them to friends who have some children on the way, so that they can share the delight I've found in TINKA.

*

The Libertines, Up The Bracket

[one star] Don't believe the hype. Really., May 12, 2003

Reviewer: Jamie S. Rich (see more about me) from Portland, OR USA

If you run across this in a store, you'll see some pretty astounding declarations of praise for this record on the packaging sticker, and those declarations are all complete and utter ....

This disc is a collection of some of the most tuneless, half-baked songs I have heard in a long while. It's one thing to put on a leather jacket and strike the poses of drugged out rock 'n' roll party boys, but you should probably make sure you have the rock 'n' roll first.

The first couple of songs, "Vertigo" and "Death on the Stairs," start the album out okay. You can hear Mick Jones' production influence, as they sound a bit like ramshackle Clash demos. But then it all goes awry. There are no melodies, no wholly formed songs, just a big drunken mess. The bonus track of UK single "What A Waster" redeems it a little near the end there...but I'm not sure you'll even want to be listening by then--even at the album's extremely short running length.

So, pass on this. If you need modern rock with a little old-time jangle, try The Strokes or something. Yeah, they're big fakers, but at least they give it a bit more effort.

The Libertines page is interesting, because it's almost like a war is going on. It seems every review is getting "unhelpful" user ratings, and you have to wonder if the fans are beating up the non-fans. If I'd bothered to read other people's reviews before I posted, though, I'd have avoided the hype headline and the reference to The Strokes.

Current Soundtrack: Robbie Williams, The Ego Has Landed

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THE LORD IS MY SHOTGUN

J. Torres gets me to talk some more about submissions, which most of your should be sick of by now.

Current Soundtrack: Primal Scream, Evil Heat

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KNOCK DOWN THE OLD GRAY WALL

So, interesting things are happening.

A writer friend of mine has approached me about developing a series of genre-related YA novels to pitch to a big deal publisher. We’re in the midst of working on that right now, and I don’t really want to say much more, but it could be quite an opportunity. Being paid to write is always a bit of a holy grail-type thing, and if we’re building from the ground up, even if it’s not the sort of thing I would do on my own normally, there will be ways to make it interesting and fun. Plus, it doesn’t end my work on The Everlasting, and will even allow me to kickstart my relationship with an agent I’ve known for a bit of time—meaning even if it doesn’t roll (and who ever knows with such things), there could be fringe benefits.

Current Soundtrack: Badfinger, The Very Best of Badfinger

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YOUR LOVE IT LIES

Will it ever happen?

Current Soundtrack: Placebo, "Bitter End" CD2

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THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE AIR

Just to follow up from old journal entries, Pete Townshend has been cleared of all child pornography charges. Read the story.

Current Soundtrack: Thunderclap Newman, Hollywood Dream (produced by Pete)

YOU'VE GOT YOUR HEAD SCREWED ON

I got my haircut today, so I am in an understandably good mood. I already want to go back and get it cut again. Before it was my turn, Jennifer actually had a guy come in for a shave. I had no idea they did that there. I almost wish I had the patience to grow a beard, because I'd do it for next time just so I could see what getting a shave is like.

*

I put up a new Big Talk column at the Oni site. It focuses on how to prepare your comics material for showing an editor at a convention, or sending in a submission.

Current Soundtrack: Travis, "The Beautiful Occupation"

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JOURNALISTS WHO LIE

It sucks trying to get mainstream press for comics.

I opened Portland’s main weekly paper today, the Willamette Week, and they had a blurb on Free Comic Book Day that was, well, just read it: “Jiminy-Jillickers, Radioactive-Man! Free stuff for the Stan Lee army? Better strap on your colored spandex and rev up the Batmobile to beat the bad guys to this super-duper giveaway! Participating comic retailers nationwide to disgorge 2 million select titles ranging from Archie to X-Men. Get adamant to adamantium!”

Not only are these sorts of reviews continually frustrating and insulting to fans and professionals who enjoy and create serious comic books, but they aren’t even clever. Every paper has done them, scads of journalists have resorted to them. You might as well go pick up an Oasis record and write about how they sound like the Beatles, or review a Jennifer Lopez movie and say, “You know what? She has a big butt.” It’s the easy way out. And this is in Portland, Oregon. We have four publishers in this town: Oni Press, Top Shelf Productions, Dark Horse Comics, and Adhesive Comics. We also have a ton of creators living here. It’s a comic book town—but I guess since we aren’t making a noise in our garage we’re not cool enough to get a proper amount of respect. (Steve Duin at The Oregonian and Dave Walker at the aforementioned Willamette Week being exceptions.) I mean, not even a mention of the contributions from our local companies? (Oh, and I would say at least the Radioactive Man reference is within this decade, but then, did no one fact check to see that hyphen wasn’t supposed to be there?) (And by titles do they mean individual copies of comics? The way they phrase it makes it sound like we have a huge selection!)

I actually used to try to turn the tide myself. My primary vocation is being a writer; comics editing is a secondary function. I used to write regularly for the Willamette Week, and I actually got them to agree to fairly regular graphic novel reviews in their literature section. After four or five of them, the books editor said to me, “You know, reviews of comics are kind of dumb. They aren’t very interesting. Maybe you could do stuff where people draw the reviews, so that it might be something people would want to read.”

By this logic, reviews of music should be done in song form, and movie reviews done as video clips? And how should I take that insult? Am I that bad of a writer, or are comics such a terrible art form and I’m putting my time into a known loser? Or am I just working for an unknown one? The fuck-off e-mail that followed is something I wish I had to share with you.

Current Soundtrack: Madonna, American Life

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HIGH COOL

Finished the first volume of Duklyon this morning. The last chapter was one big long one where the Defenders face off against Man of Many Faces in an epic CLAMP School crossover that actually amusingly makes fun of how no one can see through everyone’s obvious disguises. It was the best bit of the book, so it made it pretty easy to get up this morning and slam through it, leaving me free for the rest of the weekend to do as I may. The script is due next Friday, so all I need to do is give it a read and a tweak sometime this week.

I am actually relatively excited since my friend who has been in Beijing is coming home, hopefully at the end of this coming week (which could get in the way of me doing anything for Free Comic Book Day). It’s a bit bittersweet, since she has to cut her school term short, since she is coming home due to SARS and the changes it is inflicting on that city. But still, it’s nice news. Plus, she may be the number one person when it comes to kicking my ass over The Everlasting.

Current Soundtrack: From Jamaica, With Love, a March 2003 disc of classic reggae/ska compiled by Chynna Clugston-Major (jealous?)

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YOU’VE GOT LOVE TECHNIQUE

Today in the glamourous world of comics, I bought a plate for me to have in the office. No more eating lunch with a paper towel and the all too frequent leap of piping hot whatever onto my pants. I now have a plate. Only took me four years to figure out it might be useful

Current Soundtrack: New Order, "Pop" disc from the Retro box set

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ALL GOOD BOOKS

Another assignment from Kelly Sue for her forum. This time I am meant to be a literary reporter for a tabloid and have to file my latest column.

ON THE BOOK BEAT

Act Like A Writer

What the hell is wrong with the literary community these days? Have we forgotten the mid-‘90s heyday of the finest of our acting community putting fingers to keyboard and jazzing up the world of letters with their finely honed Stainslavsky method writing? From the highest of literary highs in Ethan Hawke’s book, to the Chekhov-like strains of Steve Martin and the populist potboilers of Joan Collins and Carrie Fisher, those of us with discerning eyes were quickly told, “Hey, these kids don’t need words put in their mouths, they have it going on all on their own!”

But now we’re stuck in a wasteland where it seems our only access to the deeper understanding of the human condition celebrities are privy to are tell-alls and reality TV. And that’s just not good enough! I need to know that Catherine Zeta-Jones thinks metaphorically!

So, I say, get off your duffs Hollywood, and show these wannabe Hemingways that their puny prose is really just hemming-and-hawing! Why are you letting such lightweight literati as Michael Chabon and Zadie Smith steal the spotlight when we all know you got it going on?!

Russell Crowe, surely there is a manly manuscript beating in that rippled chest of yours. You’ve got a pirate movie coming this summer, so why not give us a thrilling adventure of male bonding and unnatural love on the high seas?

Johnny Depp, you like to talk about Kerouac, but he was on the road before there were highways. Surely you can give us some true insight into those Los Angeles traffic jams.

Nichole Kidman, you shouldn’t just be playing Virginia Woolf on the screen, but you should put that nose on and sit down at an iMac! I want to know what song your soul sings when it’s not kicking it up at Moulin Rouge!

Freddie Prinze Jr., why are you wasting your time on comic books? Those are so over! Hello, 1963! No, no, no, Freddie—I want to see your name staring back at me in the airport bookshop next time I’m catching a flight to Rio.

The gauntlet has been cast, Tinsel Town! Awards season is over, so you don’t need to be drafting your acceptance speeches any longer. Draft the great American novel instead! Even if you are Australian!

-- Jamie S. Rich

Current Soundtrack: The Coral, The Coral

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BAD MONKEY

Fanboy Radio conducted an interview with me. If you have a fetish for annoying people with annoying voices, then you’ll love me on MP3. Check it out here.

*

I started Duklyon: CLAMP School Defenders last night. This one looks like it might be a bit easy, but also a tad unexciting from a rewrite standpoint. Another in the CLAMP School series, it even guest stars the characters from CLAMP School Detectives and Man of Many Faces. But it is probably the most straight forward of the books. It’s a superhero book. It’s Power Rangers. I’ve only done the first chapter, but that seems to be the gyst—guys put on metal suits to fight baddies who attack CLAMP School.

Current Soundtrack: Love & Rockets, Swing EP (from the Love & Rockets reissue)

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TO SPEAK IS A SIN

Shhhhh!

This is very unlike me. I am not a sharing kind of guy. I like to work in private for the most part. But what the hell…I think I just need to show my work a little, like a math test, prove something exists—however rough it may be.

A few things. Yes, my cat is a character. You’d be surprised how easy it is to fill a gap by looking over your shoulder and seeing what a furball is doing.

In the middle of the section, there is a quick reference to him speaking with someone named Lori. Don’t be confused. He is actually relating the date to someone, and we have been weaving in and out of their conversation. (These pages are in the 30s in the manuscript.)

And yes, the style shifts in the middle, too. The style shifts more than you’ve seen yet. There are three distinctive narrative voices, all centered around Lance, as well as a couple of extra techniques. The conversation technique is a direct lift from This Side of Paradise.

Finally, please don’t spread it. Don’t like to it. Don’t tell your friends. Just let is sit here. My e-mail is below if you really wanna say something. (Yes, I am deluded with grandeur.)

Current Soundtrack: Aaliyah, I Care 4 You

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I'VE GOT SOMETHING I CAN'T EXPLAIN

My blog got its first piece of random mail from someone I had no prior knowledge of. It was titled "confessions of a real pop fan." It made me laugh, I'll say.

Hi mate,

I was just going to write something in my blog when the name of yours caught my eye. I don't usually click on the links on the side, but I have at various times considered calling my blog Confessions Of A Pop Fan, so obviously I was intrigued.

I've allways been going to call mine that because that's basically what mine is. Me and my mate Michael just write collective amounts of crap on being a Pop fan, being part of the much maligned minority group that we are.

I quickly saw references to Sailor Moon and David Bowie on your site, both personal heroes of mine. However, I see that you have a strong love for The Indie, a genre that we love to diss' (we are also Marky Mark fans), which would make me wonder what sort of pop fan you are matey! An ironic one? haha, I couldn't quite figure it out.

Anyway mate, stay cool then!

Crystal

Though I assurred Crystal that there was no irony intended, and that I really did love pop music, a quick look at her blog reveals she has me beat. It's actually a pretty fun site once you decide to just roll with its bonza nature. Still can't have the title, though. ;)

Current Soundtrack: Love & Rockets, Express remastered edition

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TO CUT A LONG STORY SHORT, I LOST MY MIND

I started an editorial for my Big Talk column at onipress.com that I ended up ditching. It was a reactionary piece, responding to a third-hand comment lamenting that Oni is no longer the same publisher that published Oni Double Feature five years ago. It pretty much kicked the shit out of the myths about that book and the nature of an anthology in general, as well as the notion that we should be the same publisher as we were back then—but I’ve backed off. Sometimes you just got to be quiet and let the critics have their day and just not worry about it. The defense ended up belittling what was essentially a very good book with very good work by very good people. But if you’re reading this and thinking, “Gosh, I liked that comic,” then you need to realize it’s been gone since 1999 and if it left that big of a hole in your life, you maybe need one in your skull.

Shit, bitterness rising.

I am working out in public again. I want to get the last quarter of Gravitation volume 2 out of the way. I turned in the first half already, and have been whittling away at the next half, and if I can get it done, I can turn it in tomorrow, three days ahead of the new deadline, which is four days ahead of my original deadline. I am using different headphones tonight and playing Spiritualized’s second disc of Complete Works, and I have it loud, and “Medication” is damn noisy—yet my fears that anyone might ask me to turn it down due to any sonic bleed-through are quelled by the fact that this woman the next table over is actually talking loud enough for me to hear her. There are words for her that shouldn’t be typed in polite blogs. (Maybe I should start an impolite one.)

Have you ever noticed how my entries are much more spiteful when I am out among the masses?

*

I e-mailed Matt Fraction the other day and told him he could have made me a star. Had I taken him up on his offer to do a column for Savant, I’d be announcing a project with Epic right now! Ha!

*

Gravitation is an odd book. In every same-sex relationship, the boys are all insisting they aren’t gay. “I’m not gay, but let’s fuck.” This is how I imagine it secretly is in frat houses across the country. (I said “imagine,” not “fantasize” – it’s a distinct difference.) “So, Pledge McNutty, I’m not gay or anything, but you wanna cornhole?” Do frat boys put on frilly nighties and have pillow fights?

Plus, one of the boys is a sixteen-year-old monk. Must be some religion, the way he apparently puts notches on the headboard.

I did get to write some goofy lyrics in this section. I ripped the opening line off from Joy Division and then went from there. It was a good start. The original lyrics appeared in English in the untranslated book, and I used their mistakes to my advantage. They had “borden” for “burden,” for instance, and in the funky font it looked like “border,” so I ended up using it that way, making the poetry all the more pretentious.

*

Today, two people asked me how the novel was going. I joked that calling a book The Everlasting was a bad idea, since it ended up describing how long it was taking to write it more than the book itself. My next novel is going to be called No Time At All.

Current Soundtrack: Spandau Ballet, Reformation, disc 3 (12” mixes); cool J-pop mix from Elin

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MORE HYPE: A six page preview of Scooter Girl.

HYPE: An article on Tokyopop's site on the CLAMP School universe of books.

I WAKE UP EVERY MORNING AND I TAKE MY MEDICATION, AND I SPEND THE REST OF THE DAY WAITING FOR IT TO WEAR OFF

I haven’t really gotten to the writing weekend I was hoping for. I realize that I get derailed from my goals way too easily, but I also have the excuse of a headache that’s been lingering since Thursday night. It was only in full effect the first night, but it’s been hanging around ever since, in the back on the left, at the connection between my neck and skull. It’s a common place for me, and I’ve been keeping it regularly medicated and thus keeping it in check. But it’s still rotten.

I did manage to open an Everlasting file and tinker around a little bit, though.

Current Soundtrack: BBC online, currently playing techno, coz the cat is asleep on my lap and I have to make do withwhat is available to me here

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LOVERS & OTHER STRANGERS

#3 in a series!

My second Marvel proposal, the tentatively titled X-Love, didn’t actually make it very far. The editor liked it and I think tossed the idea around, but I think at that point there started to be questions about me as a writer. I never really understood what exactly was going on, but there was also a breakdown in some rumored activity between that entity and Oni, rumors Oni ultimately decided to undo. (Cryptic much?)

So, what you’re reading is a rough. It likely needs some proofing, but I am lazy, as we know. It was sent in to the editor I was talking to and Chynna, who was going to draw it, to see what they thought of the direction I was taking. The lifts from Peach Girl will be fairly obvious to fans of that excellent manga series, but seeing as the company was looking for new books that would appeal to the teenage-girl manga crowd (yes, Wallflower, there are reasons why I pitch what I do! Ha!), it seemed as good a model as any to look at. Besides, the general plot of Peach Girl is pretty basic romantic soap opera, and the adolescent angst is pretty standard, as well—so it’s not like that book invented what I am taking from it.

And yes, once again I was using Chynna for my own selfish ends. It's good to surround yourself with your famous friends. If you go into battle, you take the best weapons, yes? (I actually tried to get Christine Norrie or my pal Duncan Rouleau considered for the Cypher & Warlock stuff.) Truth be told, I only have my Tokyopop work because Jake originally was looking to talk to Chynna, and I wedged my foot in the door and wouldn't take it out until they gave me something to do. Without her, it seems, I am nothing.

Current Soundtrack: inbetween choices

WE’VE GOT A GROOVEY THING GOING

It’s good to be back on Gravitation. I started book 2 on Wednesday, and did the whole first quarter. Going to work my way through the second this evening before knocking off for the night. My deadline is 4/25, but I’ve been asked to deliver early if I can. Yeah, I know, if it were me I’d feel like an idiot if I asked a freelancer that—but I am sweet and adorable and just might do it, if only to save my editors from their secret inner shame. At the very least, I could give them half the book on Monday.

Simon & Garfunkle, Sounds of Silence

The characters in this manga have a much more natural feel. There’s a lot more flexibility to the story and their speech, as well as a higher grade of emotion. It’s a more satisfying exercise, writing-wise, than Clamp School Detectives was. I also think I feel a bit more free since it’s not as big a book popularity-wise. You know the CLAMP fans are watching your every move, and you have to be careful. Not only do they know the material already, but they know it in multiple languages, and they’re inspecting every syllable for a misstep.

Current Soundtrack: OMD, Organisation (UK 2003 remaster)

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HURRY UP AND WAIT FOR WHAT'S WORTH WAITING FOR

Ladies and gentlemen, Scooter Girl!

Current Soundtrack: Stereophonics, "Pick a Part That's New"

LIVING WITH THE HUMAN MACHINES

Okay, well, at least two of you want to read these, and for all I know, that's most of you, so here are the first of my Marvel pitches. They are actually two versions of the same pitch, for a series starring Cypher and Warlock in the Marvel Mangaverse, which I assume now has been superceded by Tsunami. The first version is what I initially turned in. I basically wanted to take these two characters and mash together two manga genres--the boy and his robot, and the girly hero manga. The former came with the absent father subplot, and the latter I tried to turn on its ear by messing with gender. Consider if Sailor Moon were a man, and Tuxedo Mask was a woman. That's what I was going for.

The second version here is actually the third version overall, after some fine tuning done with the editor. The name Warlock was dropped, as apparently there might be some itnernal prejudice against the character thanks to its involvement in some bad story line or other. It has also has a new, computer-oriented name. I don't recall it being too amazingly different than that, though, and I am too lazy to read these again. The plan was to eventually reveal the character as Warlock for those who didn't get it, but we would try to slide it under the door this way.

The biggest tragedy of the book never happening is it would have pissed off Matt Fraction, who had some kind of twisted take on the same characters. For all I know, though, the joke is on me and he's sold the concept to Epic.

Current Soundtrack: Spiritualized, The Complete Works, volume 1, disc 1, UK version

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MY LOVE IS VENGEANCE

The Who, Who’s Next: Deluxe Edition, disc 2

I’m writing on the evening of April 3, though most likely this won’t be posted until the morning of April 4. I’m working away from home, and I doubt I’ll fire up this machine again when I get home. I got attitude from the Starbucks barista. I ordered a grande chai, and as I considered a snack, she asked if I wanted to enhance my chai with anything. “Yeah,” I said, “milk.” She laughed and said, “Well, it comes with that.” Not gonna enhance the tip jar, now, am I?

Writing today comes in waves. Sometimes I can get some momentum rolling, but then I slam into a particularly dense page and it slows everything down. Not sure why I find Clamp School Detectives so difficult. Maybe it’s not girly enough for me. Perhaps it’s the sheer one-dimensional nature of all the boys. They all have one flat tone—different tones, but just one tone each—that is suggested in their dialogue already, leaving little for creativity. I got the first printed book from Jake the other day, and it’s an impressive package—thick and slick. I know I would enjoy this if I were reading it, and it could be a particularly fun anime, but as an assignment…well, let’s say I’ll be glad when I’m done tomorrow and it’s the last volume.

Elbow, Asleep at the Back. A woman near me says, “You don’t go to Starbucks when you just want a cup of coffee. That would just be a waste.” She talks so loud I have to turn my music up to keep her tone from riding underneath it.

At one point the bad guys call Suoh a punk. I want to get a hate letter that tells me that he’s no punk and that I need to stop exploiting punk culture. Like the guy that went off on Hopeless Savages on Newsarama way back when. You know, the good ol’ days.

*

One thing that came out of a discussion on the Oni board about Wednesday’s Confessions post is that I did leave off one non-ego element of my pitch to DC—I didn’t think my own skills were my true key to success. To be perfectly honest, I was hoping to ride Chynna’s coattails. I figured she was the golden ticket into the Chocolate Factory, that it would be her they’d want the most. She’s opened other doors. Everyone wants Chynna. Anyway, it seems that people liked seeing a stillborn idea, so I may unleash my Marvel pitches in the coming days if you guys want. Drop me an e-mail, let me know.

Current Soundtrack: David Bowie, Heathen

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GUESS I’M INTO FEELING

My cat cares nothing for my freelance life. My untranslated copy of Clamp School Detectives volume 3 is in my bag in the other room. She is asleep on my lap—fast asleep, and it’s just too cruel to move her. Normally, if she tries to sleep on me, it doesn’t last. I’m too fidgety, and it annoys her. But at my desk, we can usually come to some kind of agreement. Usually, I’d say I’d hang on until the music I was playing ended, but we aren’t even halfway into Erasure, so it could be a while. (And I always forget how brilliant this album is. I mean, I know it’s really good, but then I put it on and realize my memory can never serve me completely. They really were doing something special here…)

Anyway, looks like she’ll at least get the length of this journal entry for her nap.

It appears my mainstream comics career has hit a wall again. I am not superduper eager to be a superhero writer or anything, but opportunities are opportunities. I like to try, to see what is there, and if someone asks me to pitch, then we’ll tango. C.B. Cebulski at Marvel is a great guy, and he has been really helpful. I’m a tough business, because my ideas are limited in that area, so I can’t toss tons at him until one sticks. I’ve tried three so far, and we just can’t get them going. This last one was a Jubilee story, and it appears to be a no-go. The others were ideas for new series that, really, gave them what they wanted for their Tsunami line, but gave it to them over a year ago. I know that it sounds terribly egotistical, but I believed in the books I was constructing.

But then, maybe that’s been my problem all along. Maybe there is too much hubris in how I approach these things. Outside of two pitches for the Buffy the Vampire Slayer line of comics at Dark Horse, my only other real proposal in the last few years was for an Elseworlds thing at DC. It was also the only thing I wasn’t asked to put together, but I used some connections to get it in. Chynna Clugston-Major was going to draw it, and I did my best to deliver an idea that seemed to be perfectly suited to what it is she and I do. I wasn’t giving them something inappropriate that no one would want to see from us.

I also thought I was giving them a fresh idea, something young and vibrant that would really stand out in a tired line of Green Lantern pirate stories and Superman westerns. Like I said, hubris. I thought I had the goods.

Anyway, Young Justice: Ready, Steady, Go! is the only story in my arsenal that I know is 100% dead, so I share it here and you can be the judge of it. I haven’t even read it over again to post it. It’s a distant memory. If it seems folk like seeing it, maybe I’ll look into putting up some of the others.

Current Soundtrack: Erasure, Erasure

cut_my_hair@hotmail.com

LITTLE ACORNS

In Powell's the other day, I picked up the big F. Scott Fitzgerald hardcover short story collection for $6.95. I have a lot of paperback collections, but never had the big book. Elin and I had been talking Fitzgerald and I suddenly desired to have this and keep it by my bed so I could read some stories whenever the whim struck. Maybe it will give me back my ability to actually write short stories, too, which seemed to be taken away by Cut My Hair.

While at Powell's, I visited the rare book room, just to see, and they had a copy of All The Sad Young Men, which I have always coveted. I think I wrote about it on the Oni board, as I was tracking some on eBay and they were selling for massively high prices. It was a title I was always jealous of, and it has "Winter Dreams," but it's not in print anymore, and that saddens me for some reason. This one was only $300 with no dust jacket. I held it in my hands, and it was lovely...but not to be right now.

Current Soundtrack: White Stripes, Elephant (which on first listen is sounding okay, but not really special)

GERTRUDE STEIN SAID THAT'S ENOUGH

Lance Scott, star of The Everlasting and proprietor of the Confessions 1,2,3 website has a new live journal. I wasn't going to announce it right away, as I wanted to get some entries under my belt and foster the illusion that it was real and see what I could do with it. It's a writing exercise, keeping the character alive for me while I work on the book. I think he is going to become my Rabbit (Updike, not Eminem) or Zuckerman, and will likely stick around for a while. Unfortunately, I used this account, given to me by Elin Winkler, to create a friends list for other people's live journals to make it easier to read them all. They sussed it out pretty quick (and one of them seems really creeped out by it). So if you are interested in reading the fiction that I will create there, please play it straight in the comments sections. Don't tip my hand. I like the idea that people who have no idea what it is stumbling across it and thinking it's real.

Current Soundtrack: can't say, because too many people will e-mail me asking me for copies ;)

LIVE IN A HIDING PLACE

I so did not have a good time tonight.

Concert #4 was Idlewild and The French Kicks at Lola’s, downstairs from the Crystal Ballroom.

I tried to arrive late. There was a local opening band who I have never heard and really, I’d like to keep it that way. So I got there an hour after the time on the ticket. There was a mob outside. Turns out Super Diamond was playing at the Crystal, the upstairs room. They are a band who do covers of stuff like Nirvana in a Neil Diamond-style. Yeah, I know. That joke was old by the time the first guy to think of it turned around to tell someone else about it, but the hoi polloi line up around the block for that shit. It makes me sad that a good band like Idlewild has to play the small room while crap like Super Diamond fills the main one. I pity the Idlewild fans who had to stand in line with the Diamond fans, getting that condescending, “Never heard of them,” because, you know, if sorority chicks and bored housewives haven’t heard of a band, they must suck.

I slogged my way inside, finding the shorter line at the side entrance. It was a pain in the ass trying to get around the moron partyboys who got confused that there were two shows in one building and stood in the doorway to the one I was going to, scratching their heads rather than get out of the way. “You mean Super Diamond isn’t in there? Then where are they? Do you think my baseball cap should be frontwards or backwards?” I vote sidewards, Spanky!

The atmosphere in Lola’s was instantly bad. Hot and sweaty and full of smoke. The French Kicks were on, and I have to say, I couldn’t come up with a negative number low enough to describe how deep in a black hole my enjoyment of them was. You can’t create a number to describe how many times you’d have to circle around the Earth to travel the distance between myself and aural pleasure during their set. There are not words to indicate how truly awful they were. There was nothing, zero, absolutely nada good about The French Kicks. I know they might be hip, but I’d have to work hard not to punch anyone in the face that liked them. Seriously. The songs were flat and tuneless, and the singer could barely vocalize a straight line. Sometimes he’d get all twitchy like he was getting excited, but he’d keep singing in the same way, swerving to avoid any melody or emotion. They didn’t even have a sense of fashion going for them. There wasn’t a single band member with good hair or a nice shirt.

Seriously, the French Kicks are one of the top three worst bands I have ever seen. (One other is Paradigm Driven. The name says it all. I once declared them the worst band in Portland in the Mercury. The other slot might be Stew, who I saw open for Love, or Cooler Kids, who opened for Erasure.)

On the other hand, I caught Idlewild’s show a couple of years ago and I adored it; so I was pretty excited for them. I had gotten through a shit opening band, and I was ready to go. I had scoped out a pretty good spot by the windows that was relatively near the stage. It had a decent eye line so that I could see the band when they came on. Only problem was, the monitor I was near kept going in and out, so for the first couple of songs, the levels kept fluctuating. I couldn’t stand it, so I moved closer to the back and it was better. I could at least hear the song at the same volume and mix through the whole song.

Only now I couldn’t see. The stage is like a foot high, which is just stupid. You don’t get any difference between the band and the audience, and all I could see were other people’s heads and Roddy Woomble occasionally emerging in the midst of them. It seemed there was always someone in front of me who kept swaying or had big hair. And I don’t mind big hair, as long as it’s big because you wanted it to be big, not because you’re too lazy to brush it or get it cut.

There also seemed to be a staggering amount of people there who were older than even me. I swear there was one guy with a polo shirt tucked into his shorts playing air guitar. No lie.

A girl behind me was probably more into the show than anyone there, including the band, and as a result, she was dancing her ass off. Only problem is, at that place, there is no way to actually dance and mind someone’s personal space. You don’t even have to touch another person to invade their area. Both rooms in the venue have a spring-loaded dance floor, so some chick jumping around like a retard with a firecracker up her ass ends up sending tremors all over the place. Even worse, she was one of those people that doesn’t actually dance to the music. Rhythm and beat are foreign ideas, and they don’t inspire her feet. Ironically, she seemed to get wilder during the slowest song they played, which didn’t even have drums outside of the chorus. Was she moving in conjunction with the strumming?

Needless to say, I was spending more time being annoyed by the shitty sound and layout of the room and the people around me then enjoying the show—which is a massive disappointment. I was too busy suppressing violent urges, and just couldn’t shut off and dig the music. I held out, though, for my favorite song, “Roseability.” Idlewild played it at the end of the set—but, God, was it awful. It was so sloppy, I got the impression they are just bored with it and couldn’t care less.

I left before the encore. I just couldn’t take anymore. I did get a bit of pleasure, though, on the way home, when I had to stop at a light near where an old busker was wailing his lungs out. I rolled down the window and cranked The Animals as far as my radio would go. Score one for my ears.

This is all making me reconsider going to see Mark Gardener in a week’s time. It’s at another small club, and I know there will be people there I don’t want to associate with. Not having a concert buddy for protection can really suck. Maybe Christopher will choose next weekend as his time to visit?

Current Soundtrack: Faye Wong, some thing or other (it's impossible to tell some of these Chinese compilations apart); Richard Ashcroft, "Science of Silence"

cut_my_hair@hotmail.com

AM I RIGHT? AM I WRONG? OR AM I JUST DREAMING?

Too Much Hopeless Savages! artist Ross Campbell pointed out that I was wrong, and Erasure did play a song off Cowboy--"In My Arms." My defense is Cowboy is only saved from being my least favorite of their albums by Loveboat, so I don't know either very well (I even got the song title wrong). I think I actually mixed it up with "Stay With Me" in my head. Both are very much pop song titles.

Also, I should point out that the ever-so-sweet Jennifer de Guzman from Slave Labor Graphics wrote a much better review of the performance she attended than I on her live journal. She gives a lot more detail about the whole of the experience.

Current soundtrack: absolute nothing