The Star-Spangled Banner

I say this as delicately as possible… there is no room for woodwinds or strings in the Star-Spangled Banner.

I firmly believe that this is a brass, snare, and bass drum song.

It's a shame, this is a nation that would like to boast itself founded on equality, yet we have a national anthem that cannot function on that principle. I am in no way advocating changing the national anthem to "America the Beautiful" like my mother and so many others. Bah! I would move if we changed national anthems, especially to "America the Beautiful".

I am saying we simply need to restrict the instruments who participate in saluting our country. Yes, this is cruel but it is just.

The pain I am caused when I hear "And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air" played by clarinets and flutes is nearly unbearable. It's laughable, what sort of bombs are these that are represented by the upper register? 4^th of July firecrackers? PATHETIC! Shameful little bottle rockets, we have nuclear weapons for Christ's sake!

LOW BRASS. LOW BRASS AND BASS DRUM. This should be the core of the Star Spangled Banner.

Fuck woodwinds.

Do you think woodwinds command respect? No, they do not, not from me anyway.

What America needs is respect, we've lost this.

Low brass can help us bring it back. Low brass with a healthy sprinkling of trumpet.

Go red, white, and blue!

Ah, Hugh Jackman

For a time there I had thought myself devoid of all passion. No naughty dreams of forbidden trysts helped me pass the 8 hours of recommended sleep time. My nights were dull, both in reality and imaginary.

Then, on Perez Hilton's blog, I saw posted a picture of the most beautiful but still manly creature that inhabits this planet – Hugh Jackman. The broad shoulders, those arms, that face… THE CHEST HAIR.

-Oh my God! The chest hair!

Allow me to curl my fingers in it and I would have touched something more fine than spun gold.

-Oh my God!

But I shall not, for Hugh is married with a family. Such a happy thing for him causes such pain for me. I would not seek to break up that union because that would crush the gentlemanly view I have of Hugh. I can only sigh and think - had I been but born earlier and born in Australia that man could have been mine.

-Oh my God!

Blood does not pump through Hugh's veins – Testosterone does.

Hugh should be given much orange juice and sent to the blood bank weekly… he would save so many men.

Tragedy

Know your lakes and rivers, maybe there is a reason you don't get any bites. Take the time to interview the wild life, what are their likes and dislikes? You don't make dinner before asking your guest what they want - you shouldn't kill dinner for your guest before asking your prey what sounds good to them. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Yes...

I am working on it again.

Wonderful to hear

Fernando said something that was so simple... yet so beautiful at the same time,

"I promise you, that guy will never get laid again, by any girl, for as long as he lives."

That would give me more satisfaction than I ever got in the past.

Who knows phone numbers anymore?

How many times a day do I text or call Marg or Fernando? A lot. So often, I only have to press one number. Intimate. Or is it?

I don't know their phone numbers.

I have to wonder, does this failure to commit their digits to memory indicate a lack of commitment on my part? Is that same level of devotion there when you make the call if you didn't really physically have to make the call?

I wonder.

If everyone's SIM cards were erased would we still be a functioning society? We'd be wracking our brains trying to remember if Mom's number was 9735 or 9375. I don't know work's number. I don't know your number.

I'm going to try though, but I will start slow - 20 numbers to begin with.

Margherite and Fernando, I am memorizing your phone numbers. Know the next time I call that I put in more effort than the average person.

A writing group takes shape...???

Good news for me and the world; part of the class is reuniting... maybe.
Talks of a writing group are underway. I am excited, so excited. There are no exclamation points, but trust me, the high emotion is there in spirit.
The proposed group at the moment consists of Marg, Mike, Fernando, Eamonn and myself.
I'm going to be so bold as to talk about The Beatles here for a moment. I liked The Beatles as the The Beatles... individually however, I liked them less. Talent needs to be kept in check. Talent needs people looking out for it. Sure, John, Paul, George and Ringo had some hits after but not as consistently as they did when they were a family. Sure, Mike may write some good shit in the next few years - but wouldn't it be better with my input?
(The arrogance here is meant to be comedic.)
But I look forward to this! I've missed my friends ripping apart my projects. I've missed returning the favor.
Much love.

Plato said: "Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something."

There are people who are seemingly experts on everything. They talk… and they talk… and they talk about things they know very little about – but they're often good talkers so people don't catch on. The worst part is they often believe they are correct, they believe so strongly their thoughts can work a magic, (sort of like that mutant in X2 who had Xavier fooled with his illusionary world), and the weak minded or ignorant say, "Oh yes, you are so smart." And, often the smart are also polite and so they don't correct, they just stand there in awkward silence and silently think about how this person is a moron… but that person never knows because the smart often don't have the special powers that mutant possessed to get that fact across without speaking.

A pity.

Sometimes too, the smart realize that the "incorrect expert" has major self esteem issues and to constantly point out their many blunders would harm this person. Sometimes the smart also have self esteem issues and so they don't know if they can overpower this person who believes they are above the facts.

No one is above the facts.

Occasionally too, the incorrect expert uses a family member's position to bolster the bullshit in their long-winded mistakes. It's a shame because, "My mother, the doctor" certainly wouldn't want you telling people that women age worse than men because they "put a lot of stuff on their face". It's the hormones, dipshit.

Silence is golden, and when you're in the presence of one of these people, silence is like a rare blue diamond you wish would occur in nature more often.

The 10th of September

A little over a year ago I was fortunate enough to begin class and school with some wonderful people… Some of them are still wonderful.
For the people that remained wonderful, I give them permission to treat themselves to something I would approve of…
Video games, swimming, taking the time to pet a cat – these are approved treats; after a year they should know the approved list. I don't like vodka, I don't like tequila, no "Friends" marathons – icky icky icky.
Everyone should take pride in their talent. We are an eccentric bunch, people are going to look at us oddly, and people are going to question our ambitions, motives, and perceived realities. Don't take it to heart – because, if you're being honest with yourself at the moment, you know that the people who shake their heads at you are the same people you normally view as idiots... and call idiots, under your breath.

There are so many idiots.

Best of luck to all of my friends.

Procrastination

This has to be some sort of illness. It causes irritability, perceived fatigue, OCD like behavior, distractibility… It targets no specific race, gender or age group – it likes to gut us all of our ambition.

Where is my stomach for this hard work in front of me?

Ah, it is on the floor.

Alas.

Shorts, Webisodes, Screenplays, Musicals, Novels…

…And video games – playing them. This is what I've had my hands doing lately. It's no surprise that the progress on each has been slow. These projects need a bit of monogamy and I apparently lack the maturity or devotion to give it to them. Thankfully, none of them have left me yet.

I figured it was perhaps time to write a blog about what I've been doing; something that relates to my actual life instead of sporadic Britney support and an imaginary war.

We finish filming on one of my shorts tomorrow. I'm excited to see how it turns out. I think it is well cast, my dialog isn't easy to spit out and they spit it out without it being disgusting. Bravo. So many screenwriters have mentioned that people new to the trade neglect getting a reel together, they seem to think it's only necessary for actors, directors, and producers. I suppose it does make sense for a writer to prove that their work is actually filmable.

After this I hope to get the long put off Webisodes completed. Fernando seems impatient as Fernando often does. It's a good crew with friends Karen and Aaron on board. Karen is not your typical director as she lacks an ego and is open to suggestions. Fernando and Aaron both were graced with beautiful eyes… something that doesn't really play into the webiside… but I thought about them none-the-less. We have discussed ways in which to make use of the beautiful eyes, Karen and I, something that seems to make Fernando and Aaron a bit embarrassed, maybe it's the wording – "Beautiful", "lovely", "and gorgeous". I'm sorry; their eyes do not encourage the masculine equivalents to roll off my tongue.

After the webisodes I have another short idea, likely with Fernando again in a starring role. Karen again will likely direct or DP or something. It's an exclusive club, this filmmaking group I hang with. Membership requires you to have weekends open… every now and then.

Shorts however, do not make money. They can get you attention with the hope that the attention will bring you money, but they themselves are sort of money pits. This is why I must finish my feature length screenplays. But damn - this is easier said than done; which is a shame as I have people interested in reading my finished screenplays. If I could light a fire under my own feet I would, but my soles are much less flammable after escaping MN winters and I haven't the motivation to find the correct kindling.

Then of course, there is the musical… which is mainly a distraction. Get stuck on a sequence - work on the musical. But don't really work on the musical, simply pound out a few passable melodies, declare them shit and wonder how three hours passed. Sigh.

The novel. The novel is something that I have been working on sincerely. I did major changes, major rewrites to avoid any future problems down the road in case it is ever published. You don't want people demanding credit for your work, even if you simply bounced ideas off of them.

My mind has been more active than it has been in years. It's a fabulous experience to wake up after a long period of hibernation. You still wonder what you did during those years, where the extra weight came from, but it's nice to be up. I'm up, I'm happy.

Yes, I do feel let down.

I can't say I was moved by Brit-Brit's VMA performance last night - maybe because Britney hardly moved? I was confused after all of the reports that there would be MAGIC! Britney's past VMAs plus MAGIC! seemed to imply there would be a fun time for all. For a comeback after major trials you would want there to be fun for all.

It was fun for no one, except perhaps Britney haters, a category I myself often fall into. Not last night though, I was genuinely disappointed. Whatever illusion Britney hoped to cast herself, in her sequined bikini - she no longer had the skill, or the confidence. I think Britney's previous fame was largely due to her confidence. In normal photos Brit was never the prettiest of the bunch, her singing ability was never where it should be for one of her stardom, but on stage she could grab you with this drive and this energy that made you watch. Regardless of whether you thought her good or not - you watched. I would watch and then bitch afterwards.

She was bad last night. This was a high school talent show – without the talent – opening that was to symbolize the megastars who get our money in exchange for entertainment. She did not represent, she has invited more resentment from the public and fellow performers. Does she deserve this? Maybe, if the reports of her partying out until 3am the morning of the show are true. Maybe, if one considers the undeserved hype created by the promise of MAGIC! Maybe, if one considers how long she's been dancing and performing.

Britney is not Britney anymore. Maybe she's Brittany? I don't know. She has a divorce and an annulment under her belt now. She has two children. She has a breakdown, possible substance abuse problem to deal with. She isn't Britney Spears. The woman is not fat, not any way close to fat like the gossip columns cruelly stated, but does she look like she devotes the needed time to dancing and performing that she used to? No.

She needs to. She's not a singer, she is a performer. She did not perform. She did not deliver a comeback; she delivered us more reasons to question her past fame.

Did she kill her career? I don't know if that is possible in America; with so many people there is no accounting for taste and no way to enforce good taste. If she wanted to she could likely return, but I don't know if any person has the strength to return after so many public humiliations. Maybe beneath this drugged – possibly manic character there is a reservoir of determination that has been cut off.

If she taps into it she will have my respect. I will never say she's a good singer, but I will say she has more courage than most.

The battle part 7

This is a development I did not expect... love? Love. The winged small dog and the pink puffy fluffy ballet dancing thing are in love. It's sincere - you can tell from the clouds. Though, the grey color may spell doom. No, it doesn't, I can't quite shape the hearts in such a way to spell it - but 4 clouds, 4 letters.

What's to be done? Surely this cliche event will have some sort of part in the death and destruction to come. I would hope. A battlefield proposal? A romantic desertion? We'll see. Stay tuned...

Mammals – Treachery since the Dawn of Time

Recently, there was an article about the cause of the meteorite that ended the lives of our friends, the dinosaurs. RIP brothers and sisters. If you want to check it out there's the link, otherwise, the gist is two asteroids collided between Mars and Jupiter. They made a big mess and some of their pieces made their way to your… our home planet of Earth.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20070905/sc_nm/asteroid_dinosaurs_dc

It seems straight forward enough - the cosmos wreaked havoc upon our fragile little ecosystem. Open and shut case, the perfect murder. Does anyone else wonder if this space collision was a little too convenient?

Since the days of Tonya Harding there has been a special way to deal with competition that proves to be too much competition for you. Damage a knee cap, cut some brake lines, a bit of poison in a cup… maybe even a well placed meteorite?! I don't want to jump to any conclusions, I'm just thinking out loud.

You've got the dinosaurs hanging around for 165 million years. They're hot shit, life is great for them, and they've got the advantage of size and strength. Mammals, what do they do? They scurry about, little, hairy. There's no pride among their ranks, no cool names like Tyrannosaurus Rex, Shuvuuia, Bambiraptor, or Chinshakiangosaurus. Do we squeal with delight upon seeing the skeleton of an early mammal? No, we squint to try and make out all the tiny bones and then move on to the dinosaur exhibit. It's a shame, but that's how it is. That's how it was. The mammals knew there was little chance of usurping the thunder lizards – with their superior brains - they knew this. What were they to do, launch a massive ankle biting campaign of irritation? They didn't have the resources for that.

On a starry night a group of early mammals gathered together, pooled their brain power, (thankfully they reproduced quickly so there were many brains), and, harnessing the power from a nearby volcano, launched into space an object that looked much like a squirrel of today. Much like drivers of today who are loath to run over small creatures, asteroids are no different. An asteroid swerved to avoid the squirrel and ran into another asteroid.

Kaboom.

It wasn't just the luck of being warm blooded and smaller that let the mammals survive, it was ADVANCED WARNING. They had stockpiled food, planned escape routes, set up ancient Red Cross tents to make it through this planned tragedy. There was no chance for the dinos; survivors were turned away from mammal run hospitals on account of race issues. Mammal doctors claimed to not understand T-Rex anatomy, they could offer no aid. Death.

A pity. A shame. Can we even make amends? What would we say? I'm open to suggestions there about in what way to present this apology. A simple "I'm sorry" Hallmark card will not work, I'd be embarrassed to even mail it.

So, should we sweep this under the rug like so many issues we all care not to address? For the time being, perhaps. I think the time limit on apologies has run out here, and for one, I'm not about to take responsibility for something relatives who have made such little effort to get to know me have done.

Do I?

No, I can't say that I do. Did I? I did not.

How can I say that?

Just a lucky communication between brain, lungs, vocal chords and tongue I suppose – that is how I can say that. It's not too hard; try it out.

I rarely admit to anything of a serious nature but that does not mean you should take my declarations any less seriously.

So - I don't think so.

That means "no" in a half assed sort of way.

With some people, in-between statements like, "I don't know", "We'll see", etc. are more solid answers than "Yes" and "No". Nobody wants to hurt anyone's feelings and definitive answers always make you think, make you feel, make you second guess more than, "Maybe", which usually means "no".

No.

Oh, now I feel bad. Shit. I guess I'll do it.