FLAPPERS & PHILOSOPHERS

I've been writing about my friend Lara Michell a lot lately. She's a busy girl, what with her solo CD release and the D2 tribute night. This coming Wednesday, she is debuting with yet another band, The Stolen Sweets. They will be playing every Wednesday through March at the Laurelthirst Pub. Information on the venue is on their site. Also on their site is a downloadable six-track demo that you have to check out.

Here, also, is a copy of the poster for the show, which you can click on for a larger version:

The Stolen Sweets are working in the style of 1920s and '30s jazz, inspired mainly by the three-part vocal harmonies of the Boswell Sisters. In addition to Lara, the other vocalists include Jen Bernard (also part of one of Lara's other projects, Carmina Luna, who also have a demo online) and Erin Sutherland (veteran of many Portland bands). Fans of '90s indie music will also recognize Pete Krebs, leader of Hazel back in the day.

A quick lookaround their site and sampling the demos will show the care these folks are putting into this band. This is no mere re-creation, but a bonafide project put together by people who love the music. I'm definitely going out for the first night, this coming Wednesday, February 2nd, and plan to hit several more if I can. So, those of you who are under the same gray skies as myself, you have plenty of opportunities; the rest of you, download the music and enjoy, and maybe drop the band a line to say you liked it.

And since I am in hype mode, Lara also has a show on February 12, a CD release with the band Dirty Martini. Details can be found on their site.

Current Soundtrack: Violent Femmes, Why Do Birds Sing?

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

DO WILD BOYS REALLY ALWAYS SHINE?

A new, much-delayed installment of my DVD column is now online. Read "Can You Picture That?" here.

Current Soundtrack: Bonnie "Prince" Billy, Greatest Palace Music

HOW'D YOU FIT IN WITH THIS FLIM-FLAM AND JUDY?

Last Saturday's Duran Duran tribute night that I mentioned in a previous entry went down a storm. The performers raised over $1,200 for Tsunami charities, and the place was packed with people into the music and who had dressed up in '80s garb to participate in the contest. Some of it was a little too cheesy for my taste--I get a little bit tired of everything about the decade having to be made fun of, and Duran Duran in particular was the first band that really mattered to me--but that was made up for by excellent renditions of songs like "Election Day," "The Chauffeur," and "The Wild Boys."

This is what you want...

For my own fashion contribution, I went with a dark suit and a bright red shirt. I like to think of it as hearkening to Tender Prey-era Nick Cave, without me being quite as smooth. Turns out, I had accidentally stumbled onto something else. Two guys came up to me and asked me if I was supposed to be anything in particular, and I said not really, because I never tell the truth to strangers. "Well," one said, "you look like you could be in Kraftwerk!" He then produced a copy of the Kraftwerk album where they are all dressed in red shirts with skinny black ties and black pants--on vinyl no less. (Jen tells me this is The Man-Machine, which is not what I referenced in my post of the same name; I was thinking Robbie Williams.) I have no idea why the guy would be carrying the record album with him. I envision it's in case of an emergency. "No one panic! I have Kraftwerk with me, and if we all stay calm, we'll all get out of here alive!" Is there a doctor in the house? "No, but I have a 12" of 'Tour De France'!"

...this is what you get.

I don't drink often, so when I do go out, my tolerance level is pretty low. I have learned that if I am drinking scotch, the best thing to do is stop at two drinks. Saturday, I made it up to five. In this state, I end up stalking the room, the aforementioned Mr. Cave's proverbial leopard "coming down with some kind of nervous hysteria" (it turns out he actually says "leper" when you look the quote up, but I like my misheard version better). I am also known to catch myself muttering murderous threats about people who annoy me, half-giggling at my own immorality, but since I had plenty of folks who I wanted to speak to this night, I ended up talking at a mile-a-minute to them--though, the violent themes held, as I offered to beat up someone's boyfriend for her. I don't know who I think I am kidding. I haven't been in a fight since tenth grade! But I tell you, I beat that guy so bad, he's still feeling it!

But, I reserved my most ridiculous antics for a victim I did not know. (And yes, I am well aware that drunk stories are often quite boring, but I like this one.)

Now, it should be known, that I am blessed with a pretty accurate memory of my inebriated episodes, as well as a full knowledge of how goofy I am being at the time of said episodes. It's like, I'm aware that I am being a dork, but I can't stop it, compelled to live out my horror. These things are the consequences that balance out my superpower--that I am never hungover. I wake up the next day just fine. All of this held true for me this weekend.

Meaning that when I went to the coat check girl, I knew fully well I was being a weirdo. I grabbed all of the coins in my pocket and dropped them in her tip jar. "I don't have a coat with you," I informed her. "I actually stashed it in one of the back corners, but I feel guilty about not using your service, so I am tipping you anyway."

I left her and walked across the room to my friend Lara, laughing at myself as I went. "Lara," I said, "I am a wicked boy and I throw myself on your mercy." I told her what I had done, and added, "I think this proves I need a ride home, because if I walk, I will be robbed and left to bleed alcohol in the street."

Lara agreed. I wasn't done, though; I went back across the room to the coat check and asked the girl, "Is that the first time anyone has ever done that?" I suspected as much, you see.

She said it was a new one for her. "And what makes it even better, you even gave me pennies!"

Right on. I am a souse with originality!

Current Soundtrack: Erasure, Hits: The Best of...

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

TONIGHT THE MONKEY DIES

Today Low released a new record called The Great Destroyer. I walked down to the nearest record store just after they opened, and then rushed back home, ripped off the wrapping, and put the sucker on. It made me feel kind of nostalgic. I can't remember the last time an album has been released and I hadn't already heard it. I had missed that special feeling of actually holding it in my hands, having no idea what was inside, seeing the packaging, puzzling over the song names. You don't get that in the digital age, where sometimes you can download albums months in advance. (The new Erasure album came out today, too, and I've been listening to it since November.) I know there will be a day in our future where such associations are gone (the ridiculous scam that is the iPod Shuffle is the attempt to start marketing us away from tangible media), where books and records and movies are no longer objects that require shelves, but I hold out hope that there will always be folks who are just a little bit crazy and who will want things done the "old way." Cassettes were the main mode of transport when I got into music, yet I ended up loving vinyl. Here's to the future versions of me!

My instant reaction to The Great Destroyer is one of intense like. I end up questioning, though, where my satisfaction with it lies. Is it just because it's a good record or because it's a good Low record? I am sure much is going to be made of the supposed shift in sound, away from the quiet drones played as simply as possible, moving towards more complex arrangements and melodies, a la the single "Canada" off of their last album, Trust. But really, it's not that drastic, and certainly not unprecedented in their canon. There has been ample evidence that this was coming on recent albums, or if you listen to the 55 tracks in the box set in order, as I did yesterday, you'll hear that the glacier has been steadily melting since the "Lullaby" demo. And the vocals and the guitars on The Great Destroyer still have the same beautiful clarity as one would expect of the band.

So, I find myself asking the question, isn't it the responsibility of fans to grow with the artists we admire? Am I rooted in the same place that I was in when I first saw Low play live in 1994? The club isn't even there anymore, so why would I expect to freeze that moment in time? It seems that the double-edge of having fans is that while they will support you, they can be dastardly in their insistence on the familiar. Their tenth album doesn't have nearly the fire and passion of their first record. Oh, really? That's quite an observation. I've never heard anyone crack open a body of work like that! It's because with the first album, you have your whole life that preceded it to write the tunes, and the next ones, you only get a couple of months. Oh, my goodness! It's as if Aristotle has become a music journalist! The thing about this band is, you either love them or hate them, there is no in-between. I had no idea that Sir Isaac Fucking Newton was amongst us, collecting such scientific data. You mean to say there is no one that couldn't care less in the entire world, who isn't either offended by the sound of this band or completely in love with it? I have never heard anyone be so insightful and make such an observation, oh, in the last five minutes or anything.

Maybe the real message of The Great Destroyer is we need to tear down all these preconceptions that we walk around with. If you think you know an artist, change your approach to how you take in their work, and certainly how you discuss it; in turn, expect them to change what stimulus they give you. (And, yes, that can mean rethinking how said art is delivered to us, too.)

Current Soundtrack: The Primitives, Pure

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

I'M A MAN MACHINE

I finished the draft of the novella yesterday. Actually, I finished it Monday, but yesterday I did a couple of dialogue tweaks and added a scene that had popped into my head that I think added weight to the tale. Very nervous about this one, it's very different.

Started and finished the first volume of the new manga assignment today. Started in the late morning and worked on through tonight, finishing in time for Law & Order. It's not the fastest I've ever worked--one of the Man of Many Faces volumes was done in three hours, because they forgot to give it to me and it was an emergency, and we do amazing things in emergencies--but I just am feeling muscular these days, what with all the working, and I got on the treadmill and refused to stop.

Tonight I am going to hack away some more at reading a friend's first draft of her first novel, because the longer I take the guiltier I feel.

And Brad Meltzer is a prince. Why is not important. He just is.

Finally, for those of you in Portland looking for something to do Saturday, I am apparently to be a judge of the '80s outfit competition at the Duran Duran tribute night at the Fez (details here), organized by the fabulous Lara Michell. I will likely be inebriated and flirting shamelessly--but only with you, dear, you are my one true, special darling.

Current Soundtrack: Dashboard Confessional, The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

SHE'S THE SOFTNESS OF CINEMA SEATS

I think I used that title before, but I'm too lazy to look.

My January movie picks for Trilogy, all of which have a strong female lead, which isn't that different from most months for me:

Belle de Jour, starring Catherine Deneuve, directed by Luis Bunuel

Lady Snowblood, starring Meiko Kaji

The Red Shoes, starring Moira Shearer, from Powell & Pressburger

To Live, starring Gong Li, dir. Zhang Yimou

Witness for the Prosecution, starring Marlene Dietrich, dir. Billy Wilder

I'd be remiss if I didn't toot my own horn about the fact that Maryanne Snell has posted the first ever review of The Everlasting in her blog, 100 Books. Maryanne, in her previous capacity as a retail-type person, probably sold more copies of Cut My Hair than any other single person on the planet, including myself, so it was a given that she'd be on the list to give me feedback on ver. 1.5 of the new book. In her review and in her e-mail, she explained things to me I didn't realize myself. It's been gratifying to get responses so far from various people, all of whom have been tremendously helpful, but this is the first you can read.

I also got jpegs for the color pages of "Kago No Tori," the story I wrote and Guy Davis illustrated for The Dark Horse Book of the Dead anthology. This project just keeps getting better and better. Dave Stewart colored it, and as always, the work is amazing. And apparently Lois Buhalis is going to letter it and do it in the same style she letters manga, to add to the Japanese feel. I'm very proud of this one. It's scheduled for June. I'm also pretty sure I'll be at the Comic Con in San Diego this year, so maybe I'll get to sign a couple.

Current Soundtrack: Meiko Kaji, Zenkyokusyu (thanks, KS!)

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

Welcome back, back to health,
Back from the edge where we found you.
Back in line, working fine.
I hid my head in irrelevant books.
So tell me, is that where catastrophe looms?

Yes, girls, I'm back. The computer has returned, seems to be running fine. They even fixed the keyboard, so I can actually see things like the M that had rubbed off. One of my shift keys is pretty wimpy, but the unreliable mouse button seems to be better, so I guess its a fair trade.

While I was away, I've been slaving over this novella, which has been really kicking my ass. Expect full details in a few weeks, but suffice to say, there is a certain anxiety that comes with having an agreement to publish and not actually having it done. The issue of finishing it isn't an issue, I am nearly there, but the issue of whether or not I can make it good is what scares me. I had a whole first draft on paper and was halfway through the second when I crashed, losing all but the first five pages. I kept going, though, getting back in the saddle right where I left off and heading straight through to the end, and now that I have started over at the beginning, I realized it was a sort of blessing in a very ugly disguise to have to do so, as I have a better handle on the whole thing. But, man, what a way to have to get there!

I also picked up a new serial manga to replace Gravitation. I am not sure if it's been announced yet, it's not on the Tokyopop site, so mum's the word at the moment.

In other news, Kelly Sue--the Tristan to my Lance--sent me her old digital camera, and if I can get it to work, I can start posting pics here.

Elsewhere, my friend Lara Michell released her third album this week, and she had a smashing party to celebrate it last night. Lara's the author of one of the quotes at the beginning of Cut My Hair, so you should definitely check her out.

Current Soundtrack: Pulp, Hits

Thanks to everyone who used my Amazon links in the last four months. I got a nice gift certificate today! One nice person even bought that silly Cut my Hair thing.

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

NOT-OK COMPUTER

Christmas Eve I sufferred the nightmare of a hard drive crash. My notebook computer locked up on me and then refused to restart, informing me that the operating system could not be found. A little time on tech support with the manufacturer only informed me that everything was gone, the repair discs they supplied me with would not work, and since my warranty with them was kaput, they could charge me $40 to continue the call and still not have it fixed. So, I have to take it back to where I bought it, as I still have two years left on my warranty there.

Still, I was ill-prepared for how devastasting a loss this would feel like, and what a ridiculous act of timing it was to not be able to do a single thing about it because of Christmas. I actually didn't lose that much in the scheme of things. I backed up the novel when it was finished, though of course I had not backed up everything else recently enough. I lost almost all the work I did on my novella over the past couple of weeks; it was the second draft, though, and I have a printout of the first. I also have a prinout of what was to be this month's "Can You Picture That?" but I won't be able to post it anyway. I lost some personal journal writing that is a bit sad to say good-bye to; that's the only sort of stuff it's hard to recreate. My e-mail is gone, too. Completely.

So, I'm going to be hard to get ahold of electronically for a bit. My back-up computer started to refuse to get on the internet last summer, and I haven't solved that problem yet. The old link I had to get to my confessions123 mail via the web isn't working, either. golightly@gmail.com is likely your best bet, but I am not sure how much I will be on the net for the time being.

So, if you e-mailed me later than Friday at 6:00 (Barry, you were the last guy I replied to), now you know why you haven't heard back.

YOU'RE A MEAN ONE, MR. RICH...

For those of you who are going out to do some last-minute shopping today, please be kind to the poor shlubs who have to work to compensate for your poor planning. If you aren't kind, I hope you have a rotten retail experience and an even worse holiday. You've no excuse. It's not like they sprung this on you. It happens the same time every year, you maggot!

And to those of you working behind a cash register today, I hope that customer you have a crush on stops by. Come on, I know everybody in retail has one. Well, except maybe comic book retail...because really, what customer would qualify?

Merry Stinkfist, suckers!!!

And don't forget, I do have an Amazon wishlist!

Current Soundtrack: The Boo Radleys, Wake Up!

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

I STARTED A JOKE

From this week's New Yorker (12/23-27/2004):

That is so Lance Scott. Like, nutshell time.

Current Soundtrack: Low, A Lifetime of Temporary Relief disc 1

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

IS HE DEAD? (is he dead?) IS HE LIVING? (is he living?)

No, I have not been updating. Yes, I have been alive, and I have been working.

Besides the strange twists our lives always take after Thanksgiving, in this ridiculous time we have created to turn our worlds upside-down and max out our credit cards, I think I have a little post-partum depression in regards to The Everlasting. It makes me anxious, and it has made it difficult to transfer my energies to other work. However, since its completion, I have:

* Completed my first draft for the full-length graphic novel I am doing with...Christine Norrie. (There, I said it.) It's called 12 Reasons Why I Love Her, and it will be out, maybe, in 2006. No more secrets. (Sorry, Butterbear.)

* Turned in the scripts for Legal Drug volume 3 and Gravitation volume 12. The latter was turned in today, a week ahead of deadline.

* Secured a deal for a project due to be published in May, which I am now in the midst of rewriting. It makes me anxious, too. The publisher--someone we all know and love--will make an announcement soon, once all the final details are hammered out. This means I will likely be doing a comics convention or two this year, too. (It's not comics, however...but it's also not The Everlasting, which I have not yet begun to shop.)

* I got Guy Davis' inks for our story in The Dark Horse Book of the Dead, and I am really knocked out by them. His line work is more liquid than I normally expect from him, and it's really lovely. Guy drawing zombies and samurai...think about it!

I presume these are good enough reasons not to blog.

Current Soundtrack: The Music, Welcome to the North

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYONE...EXCEPT MYSELF

Someone I don't know randomly said "Merry Christmas" to me yesterday.

To people like that, I only have two words in response. "FUCK YOU!!!" Go bother someone you actually know, if they aren't already sick of you, too!

Current Soundtrack: The Beautiful South, Gold Diggas Head Nodders & Pholk Songs

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

MOVIE QUEEN

The tenth installment of "Can You Picture That?" is now online. I tackle a handful of Robert Altman films that have recently been released on DVD, as well as make some holiday gift suggestions.

The November picks are about to go up at Trilogy, as well. I went for a theme this time of older films that contain a political story that is still revelvant to life today.

* Ballad of a Soldier, dir. Grigori Chukhraj

* The Children's Hour, starring Audrey Hepburn, dir. William Wyler

* Citizen Ruth, starring Laura Dern, dir. Alexander Payne

* Hearts & Minds, the quintessential Vietnam documentary

* Inherit the Wind, starring Spencer Tracy and Gene Kelly

In other movie news, I was excited to see Wong Kar-Wai's Ashes of Time as part of the NW Film Center's festival of his films. While I've watched a Hong Kong DVD version before, it was a rare opportunity to see it on a screen. In fact, it turns out that there are no 35mm prints in circulation, and they had to borrow one from a private collector.

Ashes of Time is Wong's marial arts epic. It's a strange piece, with swift temporal shifts that are disconcerting to first-time viewers. Characters blur together, and it's a puzzle to figure out who fits where. On second viewing, though, you begin to realize that it's intentional. All of these people are connected, even when they don't know it, and in some ways, they are interchangeable.

It also struck me that Ashes of Time is relly a Sergio Leone movie with all the long bits cut out. Extreme close-ups, audacious music, loners--but with it chopped down to its most essential bits. Remove a lot of those pauses from The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly, and you could turn it into a 100-minute film like Ashes of Time. Only be sure to break every character's heart first. It's lovesick Sergio Leone, full of romantic longing rather than manly swagger.

Congrats to Maryanne Snell for finishing her novel!

Similar congrats to Kelly Sue DeConnick for getting through the Slayers novel series, and the publication of her excellent short story in Bloodsucker Tales #2.

Nertz to me for having to report to jury duty tomorrow. Don't expect to hear from me much this week, unless they send me home early. [Scratch that. Better yet, not have me show up at all. Turns out the whole panel has been deferred until August.]

Current Soundtrack: misc. mp3s; Massive Attack, Danny The Dog soundtrack

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

MILK IT

Two books released this week. Gravitation vol. 9 and the second CLAMP School Paranormal Investigators prose novels. Both should be in comics shops on Wednesday, and hitting most book shops, as well.

As I did when #1 was released, I am giving a little taste of the CLAMP book. If you have any interest in these, please buy them through my Amazon link, either using the click above or the pic below. This will actually end up putting a penny or two in my pocket--self-made royalties! (Same with Gravitation.)

Chapter 1: The Uninvited Guest

The wind danced with the rain and blew it sideways.

Every so often, the lightning would illuminate the night sky so that it was as bright as day.

On a night such as this, when most people wouldn’t even dare to venture outside, the sight of an elderly man dressed head to toe in white and digging a hole in the ground seemed even more unusual than it sounds.

He was digging at the center of the sprawling Clamp School campus.

If it had been any other place but Clamp School, they’d probably have thrown the old man in the loony bin.

The man stopped digging in mid scoop. It was a sudden change. He froze, dropped the shovel, and looked down at his feet.

A tiny object was resting against his right shoe. It had been carefully wrapped in several layers of oil paper and meticulously tied with string.

The man crouched down, lowering his head to look at the package. “Keiko...” he muttered, “forgive me.”

With that, the old man placed the object in the hole he had made.

*

At that very same moment, across campus in a quiet, dark room, a girl sat by herself, bathed in the pale glow of machines. The quiet of her room was in direct contrast to the tumultuous weather that raged outside.

Just as suddenly as the old man had stopped digging, this girl rose up, and a sad expression washed over her face.

But, let’s leave her be for now. There’s nothing we can do to heal the deep wounds in her heart....

*

Several years and months passed after these two incidents on that dark and stormy night.

“The first annual Clamp School Summer Vacation Treasure Hunt sponsored by the School Director is just around the corner! Who will be the top treasure hunter on campus?! And what treasure will they find? All of these questions will be answered when this exciting game gets underway this August!”

The headline seemed unnecessarily grandiose—a topic Yuki Ajiadou was well-versed in, often fostering a grandiose image himself. He was in his second year in the High School Division of Clamp School, but more importantly, he was also Chairman of the Supernatural Phenomena Research Association—a position that required a little pizzazz from time to time. Such as now, when he decided to address the other members in a voice half an octave higher than what was normal for him.

“There’s only two days to the treasure hunt!” he squealed. “I can’t believe it’s finally here! At our best, we’re the top investigators on this campus, but we’re going to work a hundred times harder when it comes to seeking that treasure!”

Takayuki Usagiya, another High School sophomore, was sitting in his usual spot across from the Chairman. Those who knew him well knew that the way he adjusted his glasses just then meant his reaction to Yuki’s declaration was a rather annoyed, “Oh, brother!” (And, let’s be honest...can you really blame him?)

“You can’t be serious?” Takayuki groaned. “You really expect us to run all over the entire school in this sweltering weather and use our summer vacation to find some bogus treasure?”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport!” Yuki said. “How can you say that? This is our big chance to get some publicity for the Association! We may have solved quite a few supernatural mysteries, but the Student Body needs something tangible to wrap their heads around if we’re ever going to be granted Club status. If we can show some results here, our dream of becoming fully recognized could actually become a reality! Think of it—a real clubhouse, not some drafty stairwell!”

Yuki gestured around him. To the wall, the window, the steel door leading to the roof—they were in the only stairwell on the high school building’s top floor. It was bare except for a few old chairs made from metal piping.

Current Soundtrack: Still listening to the Nirvana box, and can't help wondering, if you missed this band the first time, and you started here to hear what the fuss was about, would you not think that this was the most undeserving band of all time? Is their legacy served by this mess?

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

LIE TO ME, BUT DO IT WITH SINCERITY

I've been contemplating the idea of endings, lately. In a sense, when an audience enters into a story, they are putting their trust in the storyteller to take them somewhere. Whatever we are subjected to at the start is going to have some kind of payoff in the end, so even if we don't know where we are going, we have faith that it's all going to make sense.

Which is not a cry for pat endings, where everything is tied up. I am all for ambiguity, and I have said of myself, many times, that I prefer to end my stories at the moment before the "final" ending. I usually express it thus: I like to end on the inhale, and not wait for the exhale. It's a technique I took from Jerzy Kosinski's The Painted Bird, where the book ends as its main character answers the phone. He has been mute up until this point, but the phone acts as a wake-up call, and he speaks for the first time, the cap to a long ordeal. I think this is fine, because Kosinki's goal--the goal I share--is to make sure that all that precedes that wake-up call creates the map that leads to it. I may want you to choose what's next, but I have hopefully given you the proper information to make that choice; my movement towards the inhalation was purposeful. And the final moment isn't accidental or random, it's what the rest of the story supports.

It's when we think that the storyteller lost that sense of purpose, or is trying to sidestep having to answer all the questions he's posed, that we feel cheated. A lot of these thoughts are based on debates I've had with Christopher McQuain over some of Brian DePalma's films. DePalma often falls back on the hoary cliché of "It was all a dream," which to me feels like a tremendous cheat. Rather than do the work to get out of the situation he has created, he opts for an easy exit; on the other hand, Christopher sees the final destination in such a case as far less important than the thrill of the ride. That is a valid argument in something as deliberately lurid as, say, Femme Fatale, but I don't find it at all acceptable in something like the recent film Birth. In Birth, Nicole Kidman plays a woman who has been mourning her dead husband for several years, and when she finally is ready to move on with her life, he returns in the form of a grade schooler. The director and writers (it took three of them to end up with negative results) approach the subject very seriously, raising questions about boundaries in romantic relationships and the nature of madness. Rather than actually give us any real answers, they throw a twist into the last act that gets all of the characters out of the big mess they are in. They then play the game of, "But have they really gotten out?" Except it strikes me as cursory rather than intentional. I felt like by heaping on all sorts of stylistic brushstrokes, they thought I would be dazzled and never see that the film went nowhere. They had demanded a lot of me throughout a very moody, slowly paced film, so it's unfair that they didn't demand as much of themselves as the creators.

These issues were all brought up again upon viewing Catherine Breillat's Fat Girl, a film about two sisters who are forced to live parallel but disparate lives, stuck in the quagmire of sexual adolescence. At the end of the film, a sudden and random act of violence changes everything, and then the film is over. Obviously, in real life, people who are victims of crime are victims of a random act. They never saw it coming, and their whole lives do end up hinging on the occurrence; however, is such a thing permissible in the world of story, where nothing is random, where every act contributes to a finite whole? Charlie winning the trip to the chocolate factory in Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory isn't random, but expected: we know that's why he's the character that has been chosen for examination. But what if instead of it happening at the beginning of the story, it happens at the end? After 90 minutes of watching Charlie and his family struggle with poverty and illness, Charlie wins the lottery and their lives are saved. Would we not call such an ending pat?

So, why should it be any different with something like Fat Girl, where the filmmaker has chosen to fulfill some of her main character's desires and push her in a different direction, the direction the rest of her life will take, but rather than let the events take that course naturally, throws a roadside killer into the mix? Was his bursting through the windshield that far a cry from someone waking up in bed, screaming, drenched in cold sweat? It wouldn't be fair to say Breillat doesn't at least telegraph it a little. As soon as the family pulled onto the highway, I was waiting for something bad to happen, so she clearly did something to create a sense of dread (though what she did escapes me, almost like she relied on a filmic unconscious trained to believe something will go wrong in the final third). So, why do I feel like the older sister in Fat Girl, a victim of some foreign lothario, who swore he'd love me forever, only to leave me alone in the despair of broken promises? Or should I give Breillat more credit, that maybe that's what she meant all along?

Current Soundtrack: Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, "Breathless/There She Goes..." CDS; Nirvana, With the Lights Out, disc 1

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

THE END IS NO END

Rewrites on that final 50 pages actually ended up being a lot more extensive than I had thought. I beefed up the scene with Lenny, to make him appear more for a reason, rather than a cute cameo of someone else from Cut My Hair, and I finally gave in to my instincts and cut two chapters completely. The first I was worried was redundant, and I finally accepted that it was and that I could collapse it into the other piece and make it all one.

The other was the entire epilogue. I like what I was trying to say in it, which is why I hung onto it right up until the end. I was going to keep it and see how my test subjects reacted to it when they read it, but it kept haunting me. You can't ignore those nagging voices. The epilogue distracted from the end of the story proper, and I think it ended up leaving the reader on the wrong note--so it's gone now. It's funny, because there was a similar element removed from the lst paragraph of Cut My Hair, a little tidbit that brings the reader around to remind them that it's a specific person's story. I guess in both cases it ended up being just something for me.

I also discovered the downside of beginning your book in one version of Word and then upgrading your computer in the middle. When you begin merging files, they go all whacky. (Thanks to James for being on IM when I was going crazy, and Keith for making my pdf.) Perhaps it was for the best, though, since I found some narrative tense problems in one of the storytelling techniques. In one of the styles I was using, I started by using past tense, but then shifted to present midway. So, fixed that.

Cuts combined with rewrites put final word count at 178,250. To get some perspective, I found my CD with the draft of Cut My Hair I submitted to the graphic designer that set up the to-print file. My first novel settled in at 70,000 words. It's kind of staggering to consider the scope of this second book. 150% more prose.

I did a final one disc mix of the reading soundtrack to. The track list only contains one song that was not on previous lists (the Bjork), and is as follows:
Manic Street Preachers - "The Everlasting"
Mansun - "Legacy"
Tindersticks - "The Not Knowing"
Lara Michell - "Crimson Flag"
Paul Weller - "Woodcutter's Son"
Kim Weston - "Helpless"
Embrace - "My Weakness Is None of Your Business"
Gene - "Why I Was Born"
The Style Council - "Waiting"
Bjork - "Like Someone In Love"
Low - "Will The Night (Demo)"
The Style Council - "Why I Went Missing"
The Jam - "The Bitterest Pill (I Ever Had To Swallow)"
Primal Scream - "I'm Losing More Than I'll Ever Have"
James - "Blue Pastures"
Manic Street Preachers - "The Everlasting (Stealth Sonic Orchestra Mix)"
Gene - "You'll Never Walk Again"

Oh, and look! In creating the Amazon button for Cut My Hair you see below, I discovered Barry Wolborsky posted a new review of the book. Click the button and check it out. It's very nice of him, seeing as how I spent an entire evening in Christine Norrie's house without ever realizing it was that Barry. And it's much better than the person whose review precedes his, pouting that it wasn't no durn comic book. Amusingly, if you follow the links to that reviewer's other reviews, you'll see he only ever posts to complain. Like, say, how his Harry Potter costume wasn't nearly as cool as he thought it would be.

Current Soundtrack: Inspiral Carpets, "Dragging Me Down" CDS; Herman's Hermits, "The End of the World"

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

PAPERBACK WRITER

Okay, I'm pooped. I've spent the last two days going over corrections and rewrites for The Everlasting. I just finished, and the computer estimates that I have a 178,500 word novel sitting here.

Rather than declare draft 1.5 a wrap, though, I have decided to go over the last 50 or so pages one more time in the morning, to look at the changes I made and see if I brought some of the things out that I was looking to bring out.

Yesterday I made a provisional cover using a page on how to style your hair that was reprinted from an old magazine in Richard Barnes' book Mods!. I used a photocopier, a labelmaker, and black crayons. It was fun.

Current Soundtrack: The Score (a Mojo Magazine comp of soundtrack cuts)

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

LET'S GET THIS GRIND ON

Work Update: I spent Saturday doing nothing, because I could, and who are you to judge? (Unless you're Elin, who works much harder than all of us.) Sunday and Monday I whipped up a quick proposal for Dave Land at Dark Horse for something he's got going. It's not something that would be expected of me, but that was precisely why Dave came to me. It's the type of thinking I like. When I was an editor, if I'd hear, "You can't get that guy to do this," my instant response would be, "Oh, yeah? Watch me!" Hence, Stan Sakai doing a Queen & Country story or Terry Dodson on Hopeless Savages covers.

Today I am back on The Everlasting, implementing the notes and rewrites I made last week.

Currently Watching: The first season of HBO's The Wire is now on DVD. It's an engaging police drama that is noteable for its coldness and even hand. There is a distinct lack of nobility in most people's actions (and when someone is noble, there is usually a punishment for it), and there is no clear right or wrong between the cops and the crooks. A police officer can make a speech about how the drug dealers treat people like trash, but then we'll see another officer take an innocent kid's eye out. It's viewing the demands you pay attention, that assumes you're smart, and well worth the rental.

I've also been watching the first season of Arrested Development on DVD. I can't believe I didn't watch this show earlier. Its black humor is a godsend amongst the neutered family sitcoms. Jason Bateman is perfect as the put-upon hero, and Portia De Rossi is certainly one of the most beautiful people on the planet, so it's scary how funny she is.

Music: The forthcoming Destiny's Child album, Destiny Fulfilled, is depressingly bad. If you've heard the single, "Lose My Breath," you probably feel pretty safe. It's a little formulaic, but it shows they still have a knack for crazy sounds and superfast beats. The album even starts with it--which is just a set-up for the fall to follow. The second track is the obligatory nod to southern rap, and it's decent, but it's also the last song with a beat. From there, it's nine straight ballads, each more watered down than the last. Beyonce, Kelly, Michelle--we could handle it! Why did you forsake us?

Current Soundtrack: Interpol, Antics; De La Soul, The Grind Date

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

VULTURES AND THIEVES AT OUR BACKS

More homework for you.

Jane Smiley says what we're all thinking over at Slate. (Thanks to Matt Wagner for this one.)

Molly Ivins writes about just how the Bush administration operates and why we should hunker down and make sure their four more years are their last four. (Snaked from Kelly Sue's blog.)

Greg Rucka sent me this article, itself full of links, about possible hacking of the voting database and questioning how the early exit polls and the final results can be so far apart. Late Monday Addition: Steven Birch also sent me this aricle by Greg Palast, one of the main investigators into Florida in the 2000 electon. It's quite simply titled, "Kerry Won..."

Current Soundtrack: Al

KICKING AGAINST THE PRICKS

Read Margaret Cho's excellent post-election cries to arms here and here.

Current Soundtrack: Snow Patrol, "Teenage Kicks" (free download in tribute to John Peel)