133 Days, and counting...

There are days people have in their lives, that seem like the slate has gone clean. That their life is ready to restart no matter where they are in their current situation.

I've felt like that on few occasions. In 1997, I switched my major in college from Fine Arts, to Films. It felt like I began a new avenue in my life, and even though I invested time and effort in my previous endeavor, I knew that that choice was the right one for me.

Years later, I look back on that decision and see how right I was.

Two and a half years ago, I fell in love with a woman. She quickly became my world and every day since has been my love.

We had every advantage that two people in love have and neglect. I made my damnedest effort to never take for granted what we have. We're blessed with all this, and are half a world apart.

That is until 12 days ago. When the love of my life, was in my arms. And two and a half years of being apart disappeared, and a new day started.

Going into how amazing everything has been would seem like the standard fanfare for any couple.

Yes, everything was awesome, yes we gave each other long-loving looks. We went places, we did things, and above all we were together.

But not one thing felt new. I felt like I've been doing this with my girl since the day I met her. And I realized, it's true.

I'm on the phone/comp/vid with her like 5-8 hours a day. I talk to her throughout the entire day, wherever she goes, I hear about it, and I feel like I'm there. Wherever I go, likewise.

I have loved my girl, more and more, each and every day. And 12 days ago, I continued to love her more and more.

Only now, it feels like the sun shines on something new. It's not our love, cause our love is the same; stronger, if anything, but the same passion. The thing that's new seems to be something that I felt on the last day she was here.

We were in tears. The both of us throughout the day. If I looked at her a certain way, she would tear up. If I looked at the side of the bed she was laying on, I would tear up.

Almost 3 years of loving this woman, and the thing that I'm finding joy and sadness in is how much I miss her.

I now miss doing things with her. The mundane, the special event, the just sitting around.

I miss my girl, with all my heart. And I'm filled with such joy that I could miss someone so much.

My new day has begun. And it starts with me not wanting to ever be apart from my girl ever again.

In 133 days, her and I get that much closer to making it a fact.

What Did You Do Today?

...Oh, nothing much. Just discovered the FIRST rocky planet outside our solar system!

Wish you could say that, no? Likewise.

But it is confirmed. Scientists have confirmed today the first "Earthlike" planet outside our solar system.

I use the term "Earthlike" loosely. It is to say that it has a similar composition as Earth, but its environment is pretty much what would've happened if Sauron would've gotten his ring back. Very Mordorish what with the proximity to the star it encircles. A year there is less than a day here.

But it's only one side that gets the devil's ass crack treatment. The planet itself doesn't revolve on its axis. So one side is always facing the star. Making it a molten landscape on the day side, and Hoth fucking cold on the other, with a chance of ice on the night side.

What makes this planet so puzzling to astronomers is that they never expected to find a rocky planet so close to a star.

They discovered CoRoT-7b (named after the satellite that discovered it which; believe it or not, was sent up to discover rocky planets) last year, but it took them this long to determine the make and model of the planet which is about 5 times Earth's mass and under twice as large in circumference.

At least 42 scientists at 17 institutions on three different continents worked on the project.

Which has lend credence to the joke, how many scientists in how many places does it take to determine the composition of a newly found planet?

Granted it's not a really funny joke. But what do you want from them?

Back off, man! They're scientists.

"And In The End, The Love You Take, Is Equal To The Love...

...You Make."

This is the last lyric, on the last album The Beatles recorded ("Let It Be" was the last album released, but it was recorded earlier).

It is also the last song you get to play on The Beatles Rock Band game. For those of you not in the know, Rock Band has released a Beatles version of their rhythm based video games.

You would think with the saturation of Guitar Hero iterations and two Rock Band games that this would just be another installment to add to a gamer's library.

You would be stupid.

I typically don't blog about video games, if you glance to your right in this blog, you'll notice that I do enjoy video games, and I'm quite fond of a few of them (Fallout 3 is one of the best games I've ever played). But I rarely, if ever, blog about them.

That's why I am exceptionally excited about talking about The Beatles Rock Band.

Now saying that I'm a Beatles fan is saying that I own their music, appreciate the band for their influence in everything, and groove to them whenever a song of theirs happens to come on.

But this game has made me a much greater fan of The Beatles themselves. A fan of Ringo's drums, of Harrison's guitar, and Lennon and McCartney's singing and songwriting.

The story of the game takes on a linear progression as you play as the Fab Four throughout their stellar career. From their start in England.

The Ed Sullivan Show.

Their studio sessions.

And even their rooftop performance at 3 Savile Row.

Just playing as the Fab 4 in these environments would be awesome on its own. The songs that were made for each venue plays as a music video, taken from the actual performances. You're not the 5th Beatle. You're Paul, or George, or John, or Ringo (by the way, Ringo is probably the hardest to play in the game, his drums are awesome).

But what about the studio sessions? Would it not be boring just seeing 4 guys sitting around playing great music? It might be. It's why they opted to take each of their songs and you, for an amazing ride for the senses.

Here Comes The Sun? It sure as hell does.

I've played rhythm games before, and I found myself messing up on The Beatles version, not because the songs were difficult to play. But because I was so caught up in what I was watching that I took my eyes off the track. I could just sit and watch someone play the songs to see the cinematic awesomeness that went into the game. Check out the awesome videos for yourself.

The Beatles Rock Band is a game that truly takes you on that magical mystery tour. Along the way, you grow with The Beatles in song and experience. You're almost left saddened by the fact that a band as impactful as The Beatles will more than likely never grace us again within our lifetime.

And as depressing as that might seem. A faint horn will sound, an electric guitar will strum in the distance, a band will come into harmony, and you'll remember. You can come and join Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band any time you wish.

The Beatles flashed bright and strong for a decade. To this day, their star hasn't lost any of its luster. I was lucky enough to take notice of them early on as a kid. With the release of this game, I've come to find a new appreciation for the music that these lads from Liverpool graced us with.

I hope that the game will introduce a new generation to incredibly well made music. In fact, I was playing last night, and I heard my cousin today singing a line from "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds".

It's a start, no?

Don't Want To Be An American Idiot. At Least, Not One More.

"In the first place God made idiots. This was for practice. Then he made school boards."

- Mark Twain.

I thank my parents for few things in my life. But the most important one I attribute completely to them is my education. My folks made education a priority in my life. So much so, that they worked themselves hard so that they would keep me in good schools while I was growing up.

It may have thrown them off when I chose to write fiction and draw comic book heroes as a kid as opposed to studying to be a doctor. But as I got older, I believe they noticed something that they thought I missed out on. They noticed that their son was intelligent.

Now, it may come off as conceited, but in all honesty, I value my education, and I'm completely humbled by all that I have still to learn.

Even in high school, I enjoyed my intelligence, it made me a bit of a smart ass, but regardless, I was fond of learning. And what I didn't know, I went to learn it on my own.

So when I hear that President Obama wanted to give a speech to the kids of America about education, my reaction was, "Rock on! Kids are stupid today, and I missed out on hearing Reagan, Bush, and Clinton's speech back in high school."

But my joy lasted about two mouse clicks. And I begin to read that there is opposition to Obama's speech to children.

*At this time, the author of this blog would like to convey that at that moment, he would've liked to have opened his window, take out his megaphone, set it to moron mode, so that morons are the only ones who can hear it, and in a hearty and clear voice, exclaims, "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"*

Now, I'm not one for politicians, and as much as I am a fan of Obama, he is a politician, and as Plato once said,

"Those who are too smart to engage in politics are punished by being governed by those who are dumber."

So I started to read Obama's speech, to see if those who oppose this speech have any leg to stand on. You remember Lieutenant Dan in Forest Gump? You remember when he got his legs blown off? And for like half the movie he had no legs, but at the end he gets "magic legs"?

Yeah, they don't even have those "magic legs" to stand on.

The speech, for those not in the know, is an incredibly well written, articulate, and poignant speech on the responsibility students have to their own education.

Anyone else who thinks otherwise has checked their brain at the door to life.

And as appalled as I was, I was letting it slide. I was chocking it up to yet another thing the assholes who occupy this country have against a democratic president.

But I started to realize something. Obama has been doing the same thing. He's been giving, and trying, and working with the opposition to come to a plane of understanding so that both parties can push forward. A lot of folks attribute him to Lincoln for his stance.

And as this thinking mulled over in my mind, the next day, the president gives a speech on health care reform to Congress. Things were going fine, then the Republican politician for South Carolina, Joe Wilson acts like a complete and utter asshole.

Joe Wilson seems to have a penchant for putting his foot so far down his mouth that he uses his ass as a leg warmer.

In 2002, when discussing weapons of mass destruction, Bob Filner pointed out that the US provided Iraq with biological and chemical weapons technology in the 1980s, Wilson falsely claimed that it was "made up" and commented to Filner "This hatred of America by some people is just outrageous. And you need to get over that." Wilson apologized for his remarks in statements to the press.

In 2003, Essie Mae Washington-Williams revealed that she was the illegitimate daughter of Wilson's former employer, the late Senator Strom Thurmond. Good Ol' Wilson was among those who publicly doubted her claim. Wilson said even if her story was true, she should not have revealed it because "it's a smear" on Thurmond's image and was a way to "diminish" Thurmond's legacy. After Thurmond's family acknowledged the truth of Washington-Williams' revelation, Wilson apologized but said that he still thought that she should not have revealed that Thurmond was her father.

Fast forward to yesterday. During Obama's speech, Wilson bellows out, "You lie." He of course apologizes the next day, not of his own accord, but because his party asked him to.

Now presidents are no strangers, to booing or hissing or even the occasional shoe (though that guy kinda deserved it). But an out and out "You lie." Inexcusable, especially from someone who sits in Congress.

Obama has accepted his apology, being the bigger man.

I, for one, am tired of him having to constantly be the bigger man. And I'm also tired of making excuses for those who are against Obama.

These people don't hate on him cause of his views. They hate on him cause he's Black.

There, I said it. And I can give a rat's ass who wants to give me their two cents on why that may not be the case.

Ignorant sons of bitches look at the color of his skin and no further. They call him a socialist, Un-American, and even a terrorist (really?).

But you know what they're really saying?

Nigger! Nigger! Nigger!

"Oh, no." You might say. "That's such a terrible word, they're not saying that."

You're right, it's a terrible word. So they're changing the meanings of other words. Words that don't mean "nigger" in the definition, but they're sure as hell implying it.

It's sickening. I tried to overlook that fact. I assumed since we got a Black guy as president, that it means we as a country have finally gone color blind, at least a little.

I fooled myself with the ideal that we could grow. That we could see what a man with intelligence would do if he was the leader of this country.

Even those that have made the comparison of Obama to Lincoln can't say that it's not a bit racist. Making the comparison to a guy who freed the slaves because he's Black? Come on.

I like to think that it was Lincoln's partisan policies that people like to make the comparison. But I know I'm lying to myself. At least about the majority.

Well, if the comparison is going to be made. May I say, President Obama, it's time to stop reaching over the table to shake their hand. In the words of Lincoln.

"If I were to try to read, much less answer, all the attacks made on me, this shop might as well be closed for any other business. I do the very best I know how - the very best I can; and I mean to keep doing so until the end. If the end brings me out all right, what's said against me won't amount to anything. If the end brings me out wrong, ten angels swearing I was right would make no difference."

The gloves need to come off. You are the President of The United States. You have shown the world, not show your people.

(And by your people I mean the American people, not... You know...)

September 3rd, 1976

The Viking 2 mission was part of the Viking program to Mars, and consisted of an orbiter and a lander essentially identical to that of the Viking 1 mission. The Viking 2 lander operated on the surface for 1,281 Mars days and was turned off on 11 April1980 when its batteries failed. The orbiter worked until 25 July 1978, returning almost 16,000 images in 706 orbits around Mars.

The craft was launched on September 9, 1975. Following launch using a Titan/Centaur launch vehicle and a 333 day cruise to Mars, the Viking 2 Orbiter began returning global images of Mars prior to orbit insertion. The orbiter was inserted into a 1500 x 33,000 km, 24.6 h Mars orbit on August 7, 1976 and trimmed to a 27.3 h site certification orbit with a periapsis of 1499 km and an inclination of 55.2 degrees on 9 August. Imaging of candidate sites was begun and the landing site was selected based on these pictures and the images returned by the Viking 1 Orbiter. The lander separated from the orbiter on September 3, 1976 at 22:37:50 UT and landed at Utopia Planitia.

The lander and its aeroshell separated from the orbiter on 3 September 19:39:59 UT. At the time of separation, the lander was orbiting at about 4 km/s. After separation, rockets fired to begin lander deorbit. After a few hours, at about 300 km attitude, the lander was reoriented for entry. The aeroshell with its ablative heat shield slowed the craft as it plunged through the atmosphere.

The Viking 2 Lander touched down about 200 km west of the crater Mie in Utopia Planitia at 48.269° N 225.990° W at an altitude of 4.23 km relative to a reference ellipsoid with an equatorial radius of 3397.2 km and a flattening of 0.0105 (47.967°N, 225.737° W planetographic) at 22:58:20 UT (9:49:05 a.m. local Mars time).

And it took this picture.

This rocky panoramic scene is the second picture of the Martian surface that was taken by Viking Lander 2 shortly after touchdown on September 3 at 3:58 PM PDT (Earth received time). The site is on a northern plain of Mars, at about 48 N. Lat., 226 W. Long., known as Utopia Planitia.

The Viking 2 lander operated on the surface for 1281 sols and was turned off on April 11, 1980 when its batteries failed.

Also, on September 3rd @ 8:14am, I was born.

To share a day with something that has captivated me my entire life is truly an honor and humbling.

Mark Twain believed that his life was tied to Halley's Comet. He said,

It will be the greatest disappointment of my life if I don't go out with Halley's Comet. The Almighty has said, no doubt: "Now here are these two unaccountable freaks; they came in together, they must go out together."

Mr. Clemens, to take a page out of your book, and take it the one step further that I am sure you wish you could've gone were it not for being born too soon in history.

I was born the day this picture was taken. The universe and all of its wonders have since inspired me my whole life in everything I do. It only stands to reason (if it only stands as reason to me) that I will make the journey to Mars, and I will come to rest on Utopia Planitia.

A galaxy far, far away

Space, it's huge. That is an understatement. If you were to take a pebble from a beach once every hundred years, until that beach is empty. That would give you some kind of idea of the vastness of all the stars that fill the sky.

The Hubble is the most sophisticated telescope man has ever built. With it we have seen such beautiful images that we otherwise could have never seen from Earth. So in 2004, some astronomers found it a bit odd that for eleven days they were going to point the Hubble to a patch of space that had nothing in it. Completely black. Or so we thought. The video below is what became of that image we took.

You feel small? Did you question your existence? Did you see the last galaxy? The object that is 10,000 galaxies away, the furthest thing that we have ever seen, that is traveling faster than the speed of light?

That existed thirteen billion years ago? That's right, that galaxy is no longer there, at least not in that position of space, it was there thirteen billion years ago. It took the light from that part of the universe thirteen billion years to reach Earth. Light, that we assumed wasn't there when we looked at that part of space.

How wrong we are about so many, many things. We fumble, we stumble, we confuse, and destroy.

But sometimes, just sometimes. We get things awesomely right.

Here's to humanity. May its successes outweigh its misfortunes.

Jeff, the Food Dude SF visits The Sandwich Place

A local SF blogger has taken it upon himself to go out and taste the great cuisine of our fair city. Oh, and he's brought a camera along for fun.

Well apparently he stumbled across my grandmother's deli, The Sandwich Place.

Much love to Jeff for putting out a great video, and check out the rest of this guy's voyage into local culinary delights over at his site. Food Dude SF

July 20th 1969... 40 years later.

When the Eagle landed on the moon, I was speechless -- overwhelmed, like most of the world. Couldn't say a word. I think all I said was, "Wow! Jeez!" Not exactly immortal. Well, I was nothing if not human.

- Walter Cronkite R.I.P.

"Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed."

Forty years ago today, those words were uttered. Not here on Earth. But by a man named Neil Armstrong, about 238,857 miles away on The Moon.

Little that we do as a species can culminate in the positive column for the advancement of our species. Most everything we do if at all good is usually done as either an afterthought or as a result of a consequence that needed to be rectified.

Some say that the moon landing was a selfish act of a government trying to distract a nation from it's problems. Well, I say they're cynics and, hey look! There's a puppy you can go kick.

Us, and I do mean the human race, breaking through the pull of Earth's gravity to reach our closest celestial neighbor was at the very least an astronomical feat.

It shows what we can do if we truly come together and make a valiant effort.

As a species we can be such a destructive force when we don't put our best foot forward and utilize the albeit rare quality of humanity that we so proudly claim to have. But it's on those rarest occasions when we dust off our humanity and shine brighter than the stars we strive to reach, it's those times that keep my faith in us resolute.

Forty years later, we are on our way back to The Moon. A new mission, a renewed hope.

Before we asked the question "Can we?"

Today, thanks to our dreams and ambitions, we can answer truthfully, "Of course we should."

I'm Back! And I have brought you nothing but this post.

For the last 5 months (give or take), I haven't had the opportunity to write, due to my grandfather being out of commission. I have had to wake up at 4:30am every day. Which cut into my writing time which is the evenings until around 4am. I rarely get a chance to write during the day due to errands and whatnot, so night was all I had. That was, of course up until 5 months ago.

Now the kicker was, that I couldn't for the life of me change my sleeping schedule, which again, is around 4am, and I tried everything short of drugs to go to sleep earlier, the best I could do was 3. So on the average, for 6 days out of the week, I got an hour's worth of sleep at night. The turn around was that I was able to come back home around 8am, and from there I slept in to about 11am if I was lucky. That precious 3 hours was all I had to keep me going through the day, that and large amounts of caffeine (which I'm currently detoxing myself from).

Needless to say, I felt like the walking dead. My brain was fried, and the little I did write drained and sickened me.

That is up until last week. When I finally got my groove back. Man, how I missed sleep, but more to the point, how I missed having my nights back for my creative juices to flow. And man are they flowing.

So stay tuned folks, the man is back, and he is full of piss and vinegar. They say it's a medical condition and I'm taking pills for it.

But I also plan to write my ass off. So stick around for that as opposed to my other juices that flow.

The 4th.

We had a great time, and here are a couple of highlights..

And now, a bedtime story...

“The Major and Connie’s big day”

By:

Americo Alvarenga

Connie always thinks there are two birds. He assumes that there must be more than one bird chirping away at the morning sun. As he opens one eye, he believes that this time he’s going to see two birds outside the window, that there can be no way in this great, wide world that one animal, as small as that bird, could possibly make that amount of noise. He opens his second eye. Connie is wrong.

Connie leans up on his front paws and stretches his hind legs. He shakes his body from head to tail, tossing off the night’s lingering sleep. The sound of his dog tags rustles up the only other living thing in the small cabin. He smacks his lips as a heavy, calloused hand lands on his head.

“Morning Connie,” says the Major. “Today’s a big day.” Connie acknowledges the Major’s sentiments as he does every morning with a nod of his head.

The Major is a small, elderly man. No one would assume that this is the man that is echoed in all the pictures around the cabin. Pictures of a tall man in uniform. Some have him holding rifles; others have him pointing away toward distant wherevers. And then there are others, very few, but definitely in places of notice, where it’s a beautiful woman that he grasps.

Connie has never seen any of these images. Connie is a dog and can’t see in two dimensions. The Major has described each one to Connie in depth throughout the years, so Connie could point out each image and describe to you in as much detail and with as much emotion as the Major could, with only the shape of the image to go by. Connie is a self-proclaimed “part wild dog”. He believes that at least one of his ancestors was a wolf. He teases the Major each day about him running off into the wild. A game they both enjoy three meals a day. This breakfast is no different.

The Major takes their breakfast to the porch. They’d eat their bacon, eggs, and toast in the kitchen, there’s plenty of room. But with the view of the lake, the sun rising in the East, and the dew simmering off the trees and cabins in the distance, why would you eat inside? The Major sets Connie’s food on the floor next to him as the Major pulls a folded wooden TV tray in front of him. As Connie licks his lips from the grease too soon gone from his plate, and the Major lights his pipe, they look out into the distance as Connie asks the Major, the question.

“Would you miss me, Major?
If I left this morn’?
Would you miss me Major?
Will you be so torn?
I could run out into the misty woods,
Follow the trail and be at play,
Take it till I think it should,
This feels like it could be the day.”

The Major smiles and replies.

“I’d miss you Connie,
I’d miss you true,
You can’t leave Connie,
There’s still much to do.
‘Sides there’s nothing really worth while,
Beyond those pesky trees,
And why tire yourself with all those miles?
You’re better off with me.”

Connie smiles and says, “Maybe later then, Major. Later will be my day.”

The day rolls along, and the next thing you know, it’s lunch time. The Major works his tongs across the outside grill as the smoke rises off the sausages he’s cooking up. Stuffed between a couple of sourdough rolls and plated, The Major and Connie sit down to lunch. They watch as the lake host’s traffic to rowboats, paddle boats, canoes, and the such. The Major waits tentatively to the pending question.

“Would you miss me, Major?
If I left you soon?
Would you miss me, Major?
If I took off this noon?
I could swim out to a boat,
I could meet a new friend.
They would no doubt, on me, dote.
They’d carry my means to my end.”

The Major puffs on his pipe.

“I’d miss you Connie,
Don’t go over there.
Why leave me Connie?
I’m sure they don’t care.
Sure they’d pet you and feed you,
You’re a dog, a cute one at that,
But at the end of the day, they’d leave you.
And that my good friend, would be that.”

Connie smiles as he sees the smoke from the Major’s pipe circle in the air, “Maybe later then, Major. Later will be my day.”

The sun begins to set, as it does every day. The stars begin to poke through the veil of the evening sky. In the distance, the lights of cabins begin to turn on sporadically. At first one, then another, at one point four turned on at the same time. Connie can still taste the smoked fish that the Major seared to perfection earlier in the evening. On cue, Connie begs, but not in the way dogs normally do.

“Would you miss me, Major?
If I stole into the night?
Would you miss me, Major?
Would you put up a fight?
The lights call to me,
And not just those of man,
The stars in heaven whisper to me,
Come visit faraway lands.”

Connie sees the smoke of the Major’s pipe, and waits for his witty reply. But Connie, to his surprise, gets a bit of ash on his nose. He shakes it off, and looks up to the Major. He notices something different in the Major’s eyes. They’re looking off into the distant, but not off into the horizon. The Major seems to have traveled off in his gaze to some place that Connie has at some time or another described to the Major with such detail and emotion that it seems the Major has beat Connie to him. Connie moves up along side of the Major, putting his head on his lap. The Major’s hand, still calloused, but now cold, on Connie’s brow. Connie stares off, trying to see where the Major may have gone off too. He smiles.

“Tomorrow then, Major. Tomorrow will be my day.”

The End

My nephew, Julian.

You know what's great about being an uncle?  It's getting to be one to another kid.  I've got two nephews.  My brother could go his whole life giving me the coolest gadgets or doodads for my birthday/Christmas/Uncle's Day (there should be one), but nothing would ever compare to making me an uncle.

It's all the fun of being with a kid who's related to you but none of the responsibilities.

I hope to return the favor some day soon.

Comic geekdom, per the usual...

It's Comic draft time over at Kevin Smith's message board, and of course, instead of working, I write up a story for my draft picks.  Enjoy...

Shot Thru.pdf

Twitter, and why it's my girlfriend's fault.

So I just joined twitter.  Something I was never gonna do.  I didn't see the need for those to know about everything I do every minute.  I had a blog, that I update (on the odd occasion, granted), and I figure if folks wanna know what I'm doing, then they can just call me.

But my girl changed that.  See, she usually posts on the regular on a message board that we both frequent.

But as of late, she hasn't.  Mainly because when she's at work it's easier for her to twitter on her phone than it is for her to post on that board.  Today, I checked out her twitter, and realized how much I miss seeing her posts.

So I joined.  I'm *shrugs* twittering.  I may find this enjoyable.  I may not.  But I do it, cause I love my girl.

So you wanna follow my tweets?  They're probably game/movie/look pretty tree related.

If that's your thing, I feel for you.  And enjoy.

Out damn spot.

We all know Jupiter.

More importantly, we all know that beautiful red spot.  It's an ancient storm about the size of three Earths that's been swirling about for the last three hundred years.

Winds go up to 400 miles per hour, and scientists have no idea what sustains it, what caused it, or why it's even red (cause there are times it isn't).

Well, between 1996 and 2006, the Giant Red Spot has lost 15 percent of its diameter.

It is expected that the it will become circular by around 2040.

Jupiter's atmosphere is an amazing tapestry of bands and circles and swirls that consistently moves, you never see the same Jupiter twice.

It's a shame to think that at one point this defining feature of Jupiter's will be gone, and that our study of it may never be clear.

In the meantime, we are witness to a great many wonders on our world, and luckily, we get to witness this on another world as well.

Everyone should carry a purple crayon.

As a kid, I remember reading the classics.  The fairy tales, tales of adventure, the usual.  Oddly enough, I skipped a lot of "kids" books, I was always looking for the older material.

In doing so, I missed some books, some books that should never have been missed.  God bless my girl and her child-like heart.  She bought "Harold and the Purple Crayon" for her niece.  I read it today, and I was blown away.

It's a straightforward concept, a four-year-old boy who has the ability to create his own little world with his purple crayon.  And create he does.

What's great about the story is that at no time does the character ever betray himself.  He's a four-year-old, and sure enough, he acts like one.  You feel part of Harold's world as he creates it.  You want to go where he goes, and you want it to be over when he does.

The genius of Crockett Johnson's book is in its simplicity.  He conveys so much, all with just a purple crayon.  And it's in that minimalistic setting that the story grows leaps and bounds, just like a four-year-old would if you gave him a crayon and the world as his canvas.

If you never read the book, do your childhood a favor, and go read it.  Then go read it to a kid.

Jim Lee stole my Sharpie... And that's the rest of that story.

Well, technically he didn't steal it, but I let him use it and continue to use it when I walked away.

This weekend was WonderCon, and I usually go all three days, but this time I only went on Friday.  And it was a great freaking day.  Got a chance to chop it up with Jim Lee, Brian Azzarello, and Mike Mignola for a bit.  Also got some great insight on hand drawn effects VS 3D effects (fyi hand drawn effects rules over 3D software any day).

On a down note, Paul Harvey passed away this past week.  Paul Harvey was an ABC radio broadcaster for as long as I could remember.  He had these segments on his broadcast called "The Rest of the Story."

They were factual stories on any number of subjects, but always ending with a twist ending.  I recall specifically one where the U.S. government was planning on releasing a 3 dollar bill, and on face of the bill, Santa Claus.

My dad used to love listening to Paul Harvey, and the one story my dad told me he heard was one that has stuck with me since I was a kid.

It was about a classroom in a very reputable university, the room was packed, because apparently the teacher who was going to teach the writing class was very famous.

The teacher comes into the room, and the room goes silent.  He steps to the podium and says, "How many of you in here want to be writers?"

The whole class rose their hands.  He looks around and says to them,

"Then what the hell are you doing in here?"  The teacher leaves the classroom.

My dad couldn't recall who it was.

Still, a great story nonetheless, and at the end of the day, what more could you ask for?

R.I.P. Celestia Valverde

Well my great aunt died this morning.

I've been taking her to dialysis three days a week for about 5 years. She was a mean old broad, been an evil person all her life. As a little girl she used to hide food from her younger sisters. She disowned her only son, and she constantly accused us of robbing her.

And as mean of a bitch as she was, she was still family, and we looked out for her, cause that's what families do. And now she's no longer in pain. At the very least she's got peace, finally, in her life.

Last thing she said to me was when I offered to buy her some food (she wouldn't pay for her own food) yesterday, to which she replied, "Fine, but don't buy me anything disgusting."

lol R.I.P. you mean ol' broad. I'll miss ya.

I Have A Dream...

"America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked, 'insufficient funds'." - Martin Luther King

On January 20th, 2009, at 12pm EST.  America makes good on a small portion of that check.

I haven't posted since last month, so many things have happened in my sweet 'country 'tis of thee.'

And I have thought long and hard about what I've wanted to say about our President-elect, life (they found methane on Mars, that's possible life people!), work (writing a new script), and my love (Hi Ruth).

Truth is, as  a writer, I can convey to you all how I feel about all these things (oh yeah, they fucking killed Batman!  Assholes!).

But I just can't seem to find a place to start.  I'm living this world, this monumental moment, and I didn't want to spoil it with convoluted words.

Do you feel it?  Do you feel the new world?  Say what you will, America sets the standard.  And for the last 40 years, we have been substandard.  Sure we're innovative (I think we built a rocket that destroys everything and in it's wake it actually drills a pipeline and staffs it with friends of Dick Cheney), but our innovation comes with a high price.  One that's been too high for too long.

The world we live in is at a brink, we have no time left.  We either make it as a species or we go down the tubes.

But this Tuesday, this day of inauguration for Barack Obama.  It truly feels like a step in the right direction.

I have always been wary of politicians.  I still am in fact.  And a politician that gives me hope is ironically scarier to me than the typical run of the mill.

Because a man who carries the torch of hope is a man I will follow, and I am not one to do the following.  But a man worthy enough to unite this country, to stand for righteousness and the common good of the people.   I will be proud and honored to serve at the pleasure of that President.

And I feel in my heart that President Barack Obama is that Commander in Chief.

Martin Luther King Jr.  We take one real step closer to our dream.

Killjoys...

I'm a fan of Christmas.  Christmas for me is a remembrance of love, unity, and giving.

That, of course is not what others celebrate.  In fact, it is so much what others don't want you to celebrate that they go out of their way to make it unpleasant for everyone.

Take Christians.  If you take Christ out of the equation, then you get assholes like Pastor Fred Phelps, who wants to put up signs up in Washington that read, "Santa Claus will take you to Hell."

Classy guy.

But hey, how about those agnostics or atheists?  Well sure, they got their dickeries out in about, can't wait to prove that Christ isn't real and that the season is just a ploy to get people to spend their money yada, yada, yada.

You even have moderates who have to just analyze the shit out of every aspect of, well, everything.  Case in point...

The gender of Rudolph and his or her sleigh-hauling friends -- the subject of goofy Internet chatter every year around this time -- is now being pondered by renowned wildlife experts at Texas A & M University.

"Santa's reindeers were really females, most likely," said Alice Blue-McLendon, a veterinary medicine professor specializing in deer who cites the depictions of Santa's helpers with antlers as the primary evidence. It turns out reindeer grow antlers regardless of gender, and most bulls typically shed their fuzzy protrusions before Christmas.

But Santa's sleigh helpers might also be castrated males, known as steers, said Greg Finstad, who manages the Reindeer Research Program at the University of Alaska Fairbanks.

Really?  Either the wildlife experts at Texas A&M are all high and have given up on trying to figure out how to make their fingers "fing", or they've got nothing better in the fucking world to do.

Out of all the things to work on, did they think that saying to a bunch of kids, "Hey, Rudolph's actually a girl.  That song and that T.V. special that comes on every year are way wrong!", that this was the way to go?

Look, December 25th was used as a marking point for the winter solstice in the Julian calendar.  It was later adopted as a date of significance by the Church in order to make it easier for pagans to convert.

That's it.  That's the bottom line of the day.  It's also a Thursday, if you want to be more specific.

Some people have chosen to make the day special for certain reasons, others have not.

I choose to be a person who has taken the day, and made it my own, and in the face of idiocy, dare to call it Christmas.

Happy Holidays folks, enjoy it.  Cause honestly, life is too short to be a killjoy.

Happy Thanksgiving, sorry about getting screwed over, Native Americans.

I have one thing above all to be thankful for today.

My girl.

Because of her, my world is brighter, shinier, and I am aware of how incredibly lucky I am.

Happy Day, folks.

And now for a taste of things to come...

10 years ago, I made a movie.  And it's getting an anniversary treatment.  Enjoy the titles.

10 years in the making...

A little over 10 years ago, I switched my major in college from fine arts to film.  I never looked back.  My very first film was a short that I shot on Super 8mm.  It landed me my first paid gig in directing a documentary.

In the 10 years since, the only copy I've ever had was the original film reel, and a video copy that I recorded from a projected image on the wall.

Needless to say the resulting image was blurred and out of focus due to the flicker from the projector.

Well, I figured it was time to give the "little film that did" its proper telecine transfer.

And man, did it turn out beautiful.  So for the 10th anniversary of my peregrination in film, I have decided to treat "Krucial Kombat" (yes that is the title) to a new soundtrack and new titles, and a new cut.  Considering that the old soundtrack is on a cassette tape and the old edits were done by hand.

Stay tuned for the groovy, in the meantime, a couple more pics.

fOoLhArDi are fools hardly...

I'm a fan pimping those that warrant pimpage.  And no one warrants more pimpage than my best friend's sister.

Errr...  Her site warrants the pimpage, I mean.

Dana and Jen have gone and opened up a site with a line of clothes featuring some cool skater/punk/groovy designs for those who're into awesomeness.

And it's not just chick wear, they've got some gear for the fellas as well.

If you get a chance, I suggest you go ahead and take a gander at fOoLhArDi and get yourself some stupid-fresh-all up in your eye hole gear.

Boldly go, where no man, woman, kitty, ferret, dingo...

Say hello to the "water bear".  Or rather tardigrades, as they are more commonly known (by who, I don't know, cause for most I guarantee they have heard of neither term).

Tardigrades are small, water-dwelling segmented animals with eight legs.  The biggest adults may reach a body length of 1.5mm, the smallest below 0.1mm. Freshly hatched larvae may be smaller than 0.05mm.

Tardigrades are able to survive in extreme environments that would kill almost any other animal. Some can survive temperatures close to absolute zero, temperatures as high as 151 °C (303 °F), 1,000 times more radiation than any other animal, nearly a decade without water, and now, even the vacuum of space.

That's right folks, scientists have taken two species of tardigrades and ventured them into the great beyond on an ESA satellite a year ago.  After 10 days in space, the little guys were brought back for study.  It was found that the Sun's UV rays, 1,000 times stronger in space than here on Earth, would oddly act as tardigrade Kryptonite.  Of those shielded from the rays, nearly 70% went on to reproduce successfully.  Of those exposed to the Sun, almost all of them died.  Still, the intrepid buggers are now the first creature ever known to be able to survive in open space.

THE VACUUM OF FUCKING SPACE!!!

What's this mean?  It means we're learning, all the time folks.  Dream, people.  Cause it's all possible.

Welcome To Jerry Siegel's This Ol' Fortress of Solitude.

I was about 2 or 3 years old.

And yeah, I was a fan of Superman.

Flash forward 30 years later, and the fanboy is still a fan, though no longer a boy.

Superman was created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel, a couple of guys who had no idea at the time, that they created one of the most iconic characters in history.

Sadly, they never got to see the fruits of their labors (they lost battles to keep the copyright of the character for 30 years) until the twilight of their lives.

Folks may hear the name Shuster and Siegel and never bat an eye.  Mention Superman, and they know exactly who you're talking about.  A sad fact but at the very least the creators can take some solace in leaving a kryptonian footprint on the face of this little planet.

And fortunately those who want to embark on a voyage into history can take it upon themselves to go visit Jerry Siegel's house (since Joe Shuster's house was demolished), and soak in a little piece of Americana.

Of course you'll be appalled to find that what you're more likely soaking in is rain water coming from the missing roof since the house has fallen into disarray.  You'll see a house painted red and blue (seriously), owned by a very sweet old couple.  And walking in, you'll be able to see the missing ceiling, cracked walls, missing sheet rock...  Well words don't do it justice...

For shame Cleveland.

The folks over at Ordinary People Change The World are trying to rectify this situation.  Brad Meltzer and Mike San Giacomo are spearheading the Siegel and Shuster Society in order to try to raise money to restore and save the Siegel house.  The house where Superman was created.

So if you can, please, bid, buy, or donate to the Siegel and Shuster Society.  It's the very least we can do for the guys who gave us the greatest Superhero of all time.

Today was my one-hundred and eleventieth birthday.

Thirty-second, actually.

Alas thirty-two years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable people.

I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.

I, uh... I...  have things to do...

I've put this off for far too long.

I am happy to announce, this is not the end.

I'm going, for now - I bid you all a very fond farewell.

Good-bye.

Beyond the Sea...

For those unaware, a baby humpback whale named Colin was lost in Sydney harbor earlier this week.  The little guy was found trying to suckle on boats in the harbor, after many attempts to have the little guy join other pods out in the ocean, Colin would just come back and try to suckle on the boat.

He was euthanized today, amongst a lot of heartbreak.

It's strange when the best in humanity shines brightest when they come together to help out a defenseless creature.

It's a shame that they can't do the same for each other unless there's a disaster.

Be careful what you ask for, no?

Bare Bones Project.

So my best friend asked me to fuck with some footage that he shot while walking in the woods.

Here's the rough intro.  Enjoy.

Now you see it... In about a minute you'll see it again.

August 1st will bring a total solar eclipse.  Sure this happens every so often, sure we've all seen pictures (not many of us can be in Russia, Canada, and China to check out this bad boy), but do you understand how fortunate we are to witness an event like this?  The Moon is 400 times smaller than the Sun.  And by a huge coincidence it is also 400 times closer to us, making the Moon and Sun appear the same size in our sky.

During this time of totality, the sun's solar corona becomes visible.

I hear it's a sight to behold, and as a citizen of this planet, I would be remiss if I didn't try to at least see this thing in person at least once in my life.  Here's hoping to catch the next one.

Geek Proof, Second Year In A Row...

Yet again, this year us comic geeks over at ViewAskew are holding a Super Hero Draft, I'm currently writing my story, but here's my cover.

Yup, I'm a geek.

Poppa's got a brand new bag.

My other comp died.

Long live my new Macbook Pro!

Yes, this 'pc-boy 4 life' has gone Mac.  And you know what?  It's pretty fucking sweet.  Vista was fucking up way too much for me to get behind it.

God bless this comp.  It's fucking sweet.

Nice to be back among the blogging.

More news to come shortly.

The last days of a bad guy.

On the 28th of April, 1945, Hitler discovered that SS leader Heinrich Himmler was trying to discuss surrender terms with the Allies. Hitler ordered Himmler's arrest and had Himmler's representative in Berlin Hermann Fegelein shot.

During the night of 28 April, General Wenck reported that his Twelfth Army had been forced back along the entire front. Wenck noted that no further attacks towards Berlin were possible. General Alfred Jodl (Supreme Army Command) did not provide this information to Hans Krebs in Berlin until early in the morning of 30 April.

On 29 April, Hans Krebs, Wilhelm Burgdorf, Joseph Goebbels, and Martin Bormann witnessed and signed the last will and testament of Adolf Hitler. Hitler dictated the document to his private secretary, Traudl Junge. Hitler was also that day informed of the violent death of Italian dictator Benito Mussolini on 28 April, which is presumed to have increased his determination to avoid capture.

On 30 April 1945, after intense street-to-street combat, when Soviet troops were within a block or two of the Reich Chancellory, Hitler committed suicide, shooting himself while simultaneously biting into a cyanide capsule. Hitler's body and that of Eva Braun (his mistress whom he had married the day before) were put in a bomb crater, doused in gasoline by Otto Günsche and other Führerbunker aides, and set alight as the Red Army advanced and shelling continued. Hitler also poisoned his dog Blondi to test the poison he and Eva Braun were going to take.

Those were the last three days of Hitler's life.

I wonder, if at any time, did he think to himself, "Maybe this was not the way to go?"

I have to think that for however evil a man is, there's gotta be a moment of questioning, it's only human. But maybe I've answered my own question. He wasn't human. He walked, talked, and shat as a human, but his humanity left him a long time before the bite into a cyanide pill.

Here's what I find hilarious, though. Hitler's whole concept of racial hygiene was based on the ideas of Joseph Arthur Comte de Gobineau, who became famous for developing the racialist theory of the Aryan master race.

Now here begins the irony. His father was a government official and staunch royalist, his mother, Anne-Louise Magdeleine de Gercy, was the daughter of a royal tax official and a Creole woman from Santo Domingo. When he was fourteen his mother eloped with another man and brought Josef with her to Switzerland for a few years. It was in Switzerland that he began his interest in Orientalism.

Obviously this was the catalyst of his hatred towards other races. He came to believe that race created culture, arguing that distinctions between the three "black", "white", and "yellow" races were natural barriers, and that "race-mixing" breaks those barriers and leads to chaos.

Gobineau believed the white race was superior to the others. He thought it corresponded to the ancient Indo-European culture, also known as "Aryan"(Indo-Iranian race). Gobineau originally wrote that white race miscegenation was inevitable. He attributed much of the economic turmoils in France to pollution of races. Later on in his life, he altered his opinion to believe that the white race could be saved.

Here's the kicker. Gobineau saw Jews as intelligent people who were very much a part of the superior race and who, if anything, stimulated industry and culture.

Hitler and Nazism borrowed much of Gobineau's ideology, though Gobineau himself was not particularly anti-Semitic. When the Nazis adopted Gobineau's theories, they were forced to edit his work extensively to make it conform to their views, much as they did in the case of Nietzsche.

So a guy, who was part Jewish himself, decides to base his ideology of hatred and murder, on another guy who actually includes Jews in the superior race demographic.

Nothing about Hitler screams winner. Hell, even at the end of his life, he had to kill a woman and dog, he just couldn't be man enough to end it on his own.

The world is better off without him. 63 years ago today, the world got a little less evil. The only good thing he did.

5:30am...

It's such a transitionary time for me. On one hand, it's hours since I should have been asleep, and on the other, it's nearly hours before people have to get up.

If I'm awake it means that I've either been writing and didn't realize the time to stop. Or, I tried to go to sleep early, but I'm so used to waking up at this hour, my body's an idiot.

I love the smell of very early morning, merely an hour before the sun starts to warm things up. Of course I'm heading right to bed after this post. It's just such an interesting feeling to be up at this time.

Mind me not, I'm off to sleep.

Goodbye, Arthur.

Clarke's 3 laws of prediction are as follows...

1. When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.
2. The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.
3. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

After writing the second and third laws, Arthur said, "As three laws were good enough for Newton, I have modestly decided to stop there."


It was Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious World that introduced me to the man. True I watched 2001: A Space Odyssey when I was a kid (didn't understand it then, obviously), but it was Mysterious World that captivated me. I've always had a love for sci-fi, but it was Clarke's shows that cemented my love for the sci, not just the fi.

Arthur had a way of showing the optimistic side of science in the future, as opposed to the bleak, dismal downfall of humanity. The way Arthur talked about technology, space, and the human ability to explore wonders in themselves and beyond always gave me hope, even to this day, that humanity with all of its flaws, can overcome their ignorance on the precipice of their destruction and salvation.

I could go into his contributions to the world, but if you don't know, look it up. It's worth to know what the man has done. Instead, I'd like to take a moment here and recognize that the World has become some degree dumber and less creative, now that Arthur has passed away.

On his 90th Birthday video, Arthur quotes Rudyard Kipling for what he would most like to be remembered for.

If I have given you delight
By aught that I have done,
Let me lie quiet in that night
Which shall be yours anon:
And for that little, little span
The dead are borne in mind
Seek not to question other than
The books I leave behind.

From the man who said, "Life is just one big banana. Science fiction allows us all to peel open the reality and discover the yellow truth inside." Believe us Arthur, you will be remembered for the writer that you are.

In his 1999 revision of Profiles of the Future, published in London by Indigo, Clarke added his Fourth Law: "For every expert there is an equal and opposite expert."

That's one more than Newton, Arthur. Which conveniently fits into the second law. I promise you, Sir, the few of us who know, will continue to push forward, and we'll do our best to make each orbit around the Sun count.

Thank you, Sir Arthur C. Clarke, for 90 amazing orbits. You will be missed.

Pen Mightier Than The Sword... Fear The PenSword!

This new year has been abuzz with the doings going on. It's been great so far, and the new script is coming along very nicely.

I've been doing a whole lot of reading lately, and not just comic books and literary work of yesteryear, but I've ventured into contemporary writers of today.

Now I've never been a fan of contemporary writers, specifically books of fiction. I just never really felt they've been able to grasp what classical writers were so adept at doing. Masters of the English language, as opposed to the pow, bam, and kablammos that most of these new guys tend to heavily rely on.

A snobbish point of view? Possibly. But I've asked people to show me evidence to the contrary. And so they have.

Recently read Stardust. Thought it was incredibly well written and a very interesting take on the typical fairy tale that we're used to. Personally I think the fact that Neil Gaiman is a comic book writer put him in a unique category, but it does indeed instill some piece of mind for me to think that the art isn't lost.

Of course, it's no Lord of The Rings. But then again, will anything ever be?

Toy Story.

I remember watching Robin Williams' "Toys" with my little brother. I can guarantee you, years later no one would have figured that he'd open up his own toy store.

Grand Opening is this weekend. I wish him the best, and can't wait to check it out for myself.

It's the little things...

We've heard the saying so many times, but I really think we overlook this very powerful statement.

In life, it's the little things that get you through the day, that make you sit up and realize, "Good God, it's great to be alive."

I've got a girl (that in of itself is something to be excited about), she loves me, she's awesome, and she goes and gets a xbox 360 so that she can play with me.

Yeah, she's uber awesome.

I make no promise...

Before sunset on the eve of Yom Kippur the following words are repeated.

All personal vows we are likely to make, all personal oaths and pledges we are likely to take between this Yom Kippur and the next Yom Kippur, we publicly renounce. Let them all be relinquished and abandoned, null and void, neither firm nor established. Let our personal vows, pledges and oaths be considered neither vows nor pledges nor oaths.

The readiness into how people make promises and the ease that it has become to break them has truly tarnished the luster of what it is to promise something to someone.

So on this New Year's Eve, I make no promise or pledge. My words will stand as they are. No greater or worse. May I live up to them.

Have a good one folks.

Three Jews, A Priest, A Muslim, and a Latin Guy...

I got up today, and I went back to the past. I grabbed Jesus of Nazareth, Nicholas of Myra, Muhammad ibn ‘Abd Allāh, Abraham, and Moses. I gave them all pills so that they could talk and understand each other, and they introduced themselves. After introductions were made, Nicholas begins to praise Jesus, while Jesus, Moses, and Muhammad began to praise Abraham, while Abraham stood their a bit confused.

After the novelties wore off, they asked who I was, I told them I was the one who brought them all there. When they asked why, I told them what each was responsible for.

They were taken aback, with Abraham being the only one to say, "I was just doing what God told me to."

As much as they were saddened by the fallout of their deeds, there begins talk of changing their methods, creating clear outlines that could not be misconstrued, that there be 'no factions' in the faiths.

I calmed them down, and said it wouldn't matter. Said that people are gonna believe and interpret it no matter what they said or did.

They asked again what the point was for me to bring them all their, and I told them how important the December month became to all the faiths, fictional or not. They all began to wish Jesus a Happy Birthday, but Jesus tried to tell them that it wasn't for several months, but a good chuckle was had by all.

I told them, that I brought them there to ask them one question, piousness aside, if they could. What is the one thing they'd like to convey to all of you, as one human being to another. It didn't take them long to respond.

Afterwards, we watched Tron, The Incredibles, while Muhammad read The Watchmen, and Nicholas and I played some Halo.

Subsequently, I accidentally made additions to History that I have to share with you. Because of Tron, Moses said he followed a column of fire in the desert, because of The Incredibles, Jesus walked on water, because Muhammad loved The Watchmen comic especially the Walter Kovacs character, he thought it'd be funny if he didn't show his face in any pics of himself. Because of Halo, Nicholas began to tell tales of his flying sled. And Abraham, well, he gave James Hetfield a run for his money when he belted out Enter Sandman on Rock Band.

All in all, they had a great time. And here unto you good people, I relay the message they unanimously came to terms to say.

"The world may seem a cynical, horrible, and at times ultimately miserable place. But it isn't. There's love in each one of you, all you have to do is look. We know that old voices from your past may sound like just regurgitated anecdotes, but please, believe us, we meant nothing but good for our fellow man. And seeing how much of an impact we have made, both bad and good, we ask that you do not forget the basest of messages that we have tried to convey.

You are loved. Take care of each other, for you are all that you have."

Happy Holidays, guys.

Here's a little Christmas spirit for Mars' Spirit.

Two rovers, Spirit and Opportunity, landed on Mars in January 2003, and have been operating more than 15 times longer than originally planned.

What we've learned from these little guys about Mars has been indispensable. Now, the rover Spirit is battling time to get itself in position to survive the Martian winter.

Spirit has about two weeks left to reach a sun-facing slope on the northern edge of a plateau known as Home Plate in Gusev Crater. So much dust blankets its solar panels however, that the rover needs to spend a day charging its batteries just to crawl for an hour, project manager John Callas said during a briefing at the American Geophysical Union conference in San Francisco this week.

Global dust storms swept over the planet for two months earlier this year, blotting out 99.5 percent of the direct sunlight. The rovers survived the storms, but Spirit is so coated with debris that its solar power panels are operating at 42 percent of their original capacity.

"It's almost camouflaged. There's so much dust on the arrays," Callas said.

Even if Spirit reaches its winter resting spot, surviving its third Martian winter will be tough, Callas said. Engineers estimate Spirit's power levels will be reduced to 30 percent -- about what is needed just to keep its equipment from freezing.

Spirit had 50 percent power during the last winter and 70 percent during its first winter on Mars.

No matter what Spirit's fate may be, there is no doubt, that when we finally get Man to Mars, the little guy will be dusted off, and will get its ride back home.

Hang tough bud.

There she grows!!!

I'd like to share something with the very few who read this.

This is an image that researchers used multibeam sonar to compile a topographic map of a portion of the East Pacific Rise where undersea volcanic eruptions were caught on camera. The black line shows the extent of the eruption. The new lava flow stretched more than 11 miles long and up to 2 miles wide. At the northern end of the eruption, lava poured from a fissure 2,000 feet away from the ridge crest, a process that has been thought to occur, but never observed.

What's it mean? Well, look at it. The red part is the lava that has come up to the surface and solidified through the spread. It's new land. Take notice on either side of the line. Looks like ridges no? That's where the lava has come up before and solidified every time the Earth spreads open.

But wait! Why isn't one part going up, and the other going down, as science has said to us for far too long now? Where's the evidence of bumping continents? Cause continents don't bump together!

Earth grows folks. What you see in that pic, is new skin. The world grows like you grow and I grow. This is proof.

Yet you won't hear any scientist tell you this. Why? Cause it would mean all science would have to change.

But take it in. They're telling you that they are now seeing it for the first time with their own eyes. And now, so can you.

This is what you shall do...

Go, right now. And tell someone, anyone, that you're thankful for them or something they did. The tougher it is, the harder it is for you to say it to that person, the better.

Why do this?

Why not? What does it cost you? Whatever you think it is, I can guarantee you that that small gesture is worth so much more than your silly little pride.

Time flies, it also crawls, but it doesn't lambada.

My nephew turned a year old last week. Can't believe it's been a year since I was at the hospital holding the little guy. The say a watched pot never boils. They neglect to say that while you're staring at that pot, the world doesn't bother to join you to watch, and whizzes right by you.

I spent the year learning, a lot. And year's end brings so much change to my life. Time's been kind. As harsh as life can get, Time does indeed heal.

Great things are happening. In time, I will share with you all.

Always Learning

One of the best things about being with someone, is that if you do it right. You'll never know them completely. You'll always learn something new about them for the rest of your life.

Good or bad. Happy or sad. Learning the truths about someone isn't always a sunshine moment, but it is an intimate one nonetheless. The fact that the person let's down their guard enough for you to come in. That you've earned their trust that much that they'll let you hurt them (not that you would).

That's a beautiful thing.

Learn, everyday from that beautiful person you're with. And take a moment to recognize it. You'll appreciate your station in life a whole lot more.

Take two Christmas' and call me at New Year's.

I guess we slowly saw it coming. Every year, since I was a kid. People started to prepare for Christmas just another day earlier. I used to think before December was too soon.

Now, I've been hearing talks about it for the last two weeks. It's fucking October! I love Halloween. Where the fuck do people get off. Hell, I love Thanksgiving (not the celebration of a bunch of natives getting killed, but the food part).

What exactly is the hurry? December 25th doesn't come in faster. People love Christmas, I myself do, as well. Maybe it's a sign of the times? People want to feel better. I guess they want to feel better sooner. Kinda sad really.


Slow it down folks. Here's something to celebrate. It's the Full Moon tonight. The skies have been clear as hell here in San Francisco. Go out tonight, and look up at that beautiful rock in the sky. Enjoy it, it's getting further and further away every year. It won't be the same for your kids. You can tell them how 'back in your day' the moon looked very differently (kinda, won't change much, but still).

And Now...

For your enjoyment...

Here's 50 words.

A look, a glance.
A deep breath, skin goes tingly.
Body goes tight, lips go wet.
An impact, a force.
A penetration, an explosion.
Tastes of sweetness, flesh like silk.
A sigh, a moan.
A grab, a swallow.
Eyes meet with one another, fluids exchange.
A collapse, A relax.
Ecstasy.

That which binds us all...

The human body produces electricity. This you know. But it's not one or any single organ that produces the electricity. The cells themselves produce electricity. Like the way electricity is produced in your house. However not in the same manner. What we know as electricity that runs through, well everything, flows through electrons. The electricity in our cells flow through Ions (Chemistry 101, ions are atoms or molecules that have an electric charge because they have either lost or gained electrons). The cells generate "potential energy" by separating electrical changes. That means the energy used to separate them will be released if they come back together. That released energy is called "voltage."

The difference between the outside charge and the inside charge of a cell (what's called the "resting potential") is about 50 millivolts. That's 50 x 1/1000 of a volt. Compare that to a little AAA flashlight battery, which has 1.5 volts. Not much, right? But, add up the electricity generated by all the trillions of cells in the body and what you get is enough to light a 40 watt light bulb.

Now, think Superman here. Just like Superman, are bodies are fed by the sun. Alter the amount of energy, or the frequency that we radiate in sync with...

What do you think happens? Cancer? Most likely, for that's all cancer really is, a continuous growth of white blood cells. But only because it's a shock to the cells, they don't have time to adapt.

And adaptation is what humans do best. We don't have claws, we can't fly, and we don't have sharp teeth. But, we do adapt. Our cells will do the same. But to what outcome? Imagine if our cells would adapt to contain more energy. The potential for human development is truly limitless.

It boggles the mind...

The steps that someone will take to sabotage themselves. To strip away their own happiness, because they're afraid of living life.

They'll push away the ones they love, they'll block them from reading anything personal about them, they'll say mean things. All because of fear.

Life's way too short. All I can say to them, is that we love you still. That's what loved ones do. We just hope you can come to terms with your fears.

Behind Green Eyes...

Pete Townshend did his version. This is mine.

Behind Green Eyes

It was the light that fooled them all, and you,
A reflection at the right angle, it wasn't true.
Or it was at that moment, so it may seem,
But rarely is it there; the joy in that gleam.
An ocean lies behind these eyes,
One that I'm afraid will never run dry.
The beauty of the world passes through these emerald lenses,
The images can distort and overwhelm my senses.
I try and strain to see the love of this life,
But the pain and sorrow create so much strife.
I close my eyes but the memory stays,
Linger no longer, let the hells be away.
And then, when the world I do not want to brave,
When I can no longer take the barrage of each wave.
The floodgates burst open and wide,
And the tears flow free behind green eyes.
To my relief, they wash away the prism,
That has kept me only seeing through the bars of this prison.
And when empty and clear I can finally see,
The love that I have searched, right before me.
Skewed was my vision, I was blind,
How did I miss this world sublime?
And from my eyes, something other than tears flow through,
The beautiful thing that has led me to you.
And I thank you for letting me see clear,
For behind these eyes, there are no more tears.
The joy has been there, though I thought it as lies,
And now I see love true, reflected in your eyes.

When life gives you lemons...

Take them.

Lemons are getting expensive today.

I was in the car today, I had my cousin in the passenger seat, and we were coming down the hill, and then up hers to get to her house. As we started up the very steep, San Francisco hill, there's a van pulling out, it's taking its very sweet time. If I go up and over this hill, this girl is dropped off, and then I can go on to do my own thing. I contemplate waiting. But seeing as I want to drop the kid off, I opt to back down and take another street. I go down that hill, and then up another. That hill is blocked by a bulldozer. I laugh, and one of the construction guys comes up to me, and says, it'll be a while.

I back down and go up and I pass by the original hill, the van is gone, but there's another car there, and it seems like it might be leaving.

I drive by, and take the long way around. I smile at my cousin and say to her, "You know, both times we tried to get there fast, and it seems life wasn't down for that. So I'll take the long way, which, if I would have done in the first place, we would already have been there by now."

So I leave you with this. If life gives you lemons, you can make lemonade. But before you do, take a moment with that lemon. It may not be the sweetest citric fruit in the family. But I bet there's a lot more you can do with it other than make lemonade. Just take a step back from the juicer.

Leaders of the New School.

Here it is, fresh off the presses. Enjoy.

Super Hero Comic Book Draft. Yeah, I said it.

So over at ViewAskew.com, we've got a little comic thread going. And we're doing a Super Hero Draft. This is the cover I made for my team, and my 5 picks. I'm writing up a story for them, so if you're at all interested (and if you've come to this site, you're more than likely looking for porn and are quite disappointed), I'll be putting it up here this weekend. In the meantime, enjoy the pic.

Your Kung-Fu is Strong...

Who doesn't have a dark side to them? When you really dig down, when you go to the scary places of your soul, and touch the strings that tie you to the hells you've created. How dark does it resonate?

I bet you it's dark. I bet you think it's the darkest thing ever, darker than anyone else's. I bet you could kill. I bet you could maim, rape, destroy any and every thing that stands in your way. I bet you it's so scary that you get a shiver to think what you are actually capable of doing.

How about your light side? Not as sexy? How far could you go to love and be loved in return? I bet you it's not as bright as your dark side's dark.

It's a lot easier to think of the things we'd never do, than it is to do the good that we believe we're capable of.

What's that say about us?

There's a snake in my boot...

Last couple days, I've been out of it. Out of my head and senses. I can't imagine being on drugs. My mind's such an insane place as it is, I can't imagine drugs having an effect on me.

I let a mosquito bite me three times last night. Then I killed it. I don't know if that was cruel or not. But she ain't biting me anymore.

I just learned several months ago what a QWERTY keyboard is. You'd think they'd call it something else, that's really on the nose.

My hands move in slow motion, but they're going faster than I can see.

Nap time now... Later...

31, Day One...

So... First day.

A kick in the crotch. Life's funny that way. Let's see what tomorrow brings.

Getting old...

I turn 31 in a week. I am single. No kids. A writer/director currently not getting paid for writing or directing.

A third of my life behind me (maybe more).

Am I worried?

Nope, not one bit.

For I've lived more than most in my short time on this planet. And I'm grateful for it.

The end of this years brings so much change to my life.

Life for me, starts at 31.

See you guys there.

One really long day...

Did you know that there are fruit flies out there that only live 24 hours? It's true. From birth to death. They eat, sleep, mate, go through some fly adventure (not the slang 'fly' but no one's used that since the mid 90's), and then die.

Such an interesting concept of time these flies might have. Or they may just not pay any mind to the passage of time, or care of their own existence.

Sometimes, I can envy a fruit fly.

But it can only be that, cause I am aware of my own existence. However, the passage of time, seems like I can cheat on that one.

I had an amazing week. Chock it up to one really long fruit fly day.

For now, anyway.

The pursuit of Happiness...

It's an interesting theory when you think about it. What is Happiness in its most biological sense?

The brain receives information that is converted into electrical impulses. These impulses electrifies and stimulates the organ that is your brain which in turns releases certain chemicals. The balance of these chemicals are crucial. When they secrete and rush into your system, its euphoric. The initial surge makes you smile wider than you normally would, makes your heart palpitate a bit faster, and sends a tingle through your body. The body, once used to the chemical flux, will return to a sense of calm, but a pleasant one.

Is this Happiness? If so, then a drug will give you the same result, no?

Then why the term 'The pursuit of happiness'? Does the body look for happiness? Do we as beings need it so badly that we have to search for it? Search for images, smells, sounds, anything discernable that will fill a void in our chemical make up?

Is it a constructural flaw? Are we built to search from the get-go?

Happiness can come in so many forms, but ironically it never comes, it must be sought. I've found mine. I hope you find yours.

It's been a long time... I shouldn't have left you...

Wow, close to two months with no post? My bad. For all three of you who read this blog.

Been quite busy with life and work. I've got a lot of headway done on the sci-fi script, its been a large undertaking, but it's been very worth it.

Went for a long walk around Golden Gate Park today, went to The Japanese Tea Garden, The Museum, the usual. Once in a while, I remember why I love this town so much.

This is the view from my window where I write.


Love this town...

godplex still lives...

So I've been debating whether or not to post the whole film of Godplex on my website (once I get it up and running), the film is 3 years old now, but it is the last short film I did.

I figured if there's enough demand, I'll put it up there, in the meantime, hope you guys liked the trailer we put together for it.

The lack of buzz...

Working on this sci-fi script, and getting into all things sci (not so much fi), I ran into this little bit of shocking news.

Last fall, the nation's beekeepers watched in horror as more than a quarter of their 2.4 million colonies collapsed, killing billions of nature's little fertilizers.

Mysterious events in recent months have suddenly made Einstein's apocalyptic vision seem all the more topical. For unknown reasons, bee populations throughout Germany are disappearing -- something that is so far only harming beekeepers. But the situation is different in the United States, where bees are dying in such dramatic numbers that the economic consequences could soon be dire. No one knows what is causing the bees to perish, but some experts believe that the large-scale use of genetically modified plants in the US could be a factor.

Why is this of concern? Albert Einstein once said, "If the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe, then man would only have four years of life left. No more bees, no more pollination, no more plants, no more animals, no more man."

They can't seem to find the bodies which is the weird thing, they just find the hives were the offspring die off slowy.

Millions of bees have simply vanished. In most cases, all that's left in the hives are the doomed offspring. But dead bees are nowhere to be found -- neither in nor anywhere close to the hives. Diana Cox-Foster, a member of the CCD Working Group, told The Independent that researchers were "extremely alarmed," adding that the crisis "has the potential to devastate the US beekeeping industry."

It is particularly worrisome, she said, that the bees' death is accompanied by a set of symptoms "which does not seem to match anything in the literature."

In many cases, scientists have found evidence of almost all known bee viruses in the few surviving bees found in the hives after most have disappeared. Some had five or six infections at the same time and were infested with fungi -- a sign, experts say, that the insects' immune system may have collapsed.

The scientists are also surprised that bees and other insects usually leave the abandoned hives untouched. Nearby bee populations or parasites would normally raid the honey and pollen stores of colonies that have died for other reasons, such as excessive winter cold. "This suggests that there is something toxic in the colony itself which is repelling them," says Cox-Foster.

I hope we figure out the problem (which we caused obviously) before it's way too damn late.

Though, the way things have been going. It looks like we're near.

Damn global warming.

Been a strange month. A lot of things going on, and a lot of things not finishing up.

First on the list of things that haven't been finished is the new script. And not because of lack of not wanting to write, just been so incredibly busy, haven't had a chance to write.

You may say, "Well, you've got a moment now Shakespeare! Get thee to a scribery!"

Well, to those people I say, "Shut up! That's why!"

And I've been a week without an internet connection. That was very scary. After a week of telling Earthlink that it's not my fault it's theirs. They finally realized their snafu and fixed the problem for the most part.

Along with one of my ex's sending me an email and telling me how happy she is with her new boyfriend, to my other ex going nuts. It's been quite a strange ride this month.

But just like mother nature, I'll get my ducks in a row. Things will get back to normal, and all will be right with the world.


Eventually...

Carry on my wayward son...

Last couples of weeks have been a bitch. Writing and helping out my grandmother at her deli while my grandfather's on vacation has left me with a couple hours of sleep a night.

Needless to say, I'm drained.

But not as drained as my good friends J and Onny, who had a healthy baby girl this past Saturday. My best to them.

Will update next week with deadline I've got going.

Captain America... No More...

I read this today...

Captain America will continue to be published despite the very real death of Steve Rogers. In May, Captain America #26 will reveal the aftermath of his death, beginning with the autopsy of his body. This is no hoax - Captain America, Steve Rogers, is dead.

I'm tired of being, just sad. Here's my farewell to Captain America.

When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home. - Tecumseh

I was a kid. Maybe 8 or 9. I think that's when I first saw this round shield with a star. Red, white, and blue. Didn't have a clue what it was. But, it was iconic.

It wasn't until I was about 12 years old, that I was first introduced to Captain America. At the time, mutants had my attention. I really didn't bother with Captain America. He had a shield and super strength, but Wolverine had claws. As I went to comic book stores off and on in my teens. There was one incident that stood out as my reintroduction to Cap.

I see an issue.



I asked the guy at the counter. "He quit?"

To which he replied, "Yeah, yeah he did."

It was strange for me that Super Heroes could quit being Super Heroes. It boggled my mind. I had to ask.

"Why the hell would he quit? Isn't he supposed to be all about the U.S.?" I get a scowl look from him.

"No dude. He's not about the U.S. He's about what the U.S. should stand for. He's about freedom, and liberty. They tried to take that away from Captain America. He wouldn't stand for it."

At the time, I couldn't separate the ideals of this country and the country. I thought they went hand-in-hand. Well, it is better to be ignorant than mistaken.

There began my quest to learn about the man with little wings on his cowl.

A scrawny teenager, sickened by what he saw on newsreel footage in the 40's about the Nazis. Tries to join the Army. Because of his frailty, they rejected him. But he didn't take no for an answer. He wanted to be a soldier. Let me say that again. He WANTED to be a Soldier. Because of the death and atrocities he saw, he wanted to fight for what was right.

In comes Operation: Rebirth. Where he was supposed to be one, in an Army of many super soldiers. Fate made him an Army of One. A shining beacon of all that is right in humanity. Fate again, freezes him, sacrificing himself yet again for us.

Nature abhors a hero. For one thing, he violates the law of conservation of energy. For another, how can it be the survival of the fittest when the fittest keeps putting himself in situations where he is most likely to be creamed? - Solomon Short

Decades later. The Avengers, thanks to Namor, unfreeze Captain America and Cap rejoins the fight for the good fight.

What made Steve Rogers different? His power was no accident. He's not an alien crashed to Earth, he's not a man born with powers, he's not chosen to be whatever.

No Sirs and Ma'ams. Steve wanted to fight. And if not for the grace of Dr. Abraham Erskine. I can guarantee you, Steve Rogers would have fought nail and tooth. And would have been a Hero. A Super one at that.

I continued on my path of following those who I held near and dear. The X-Men, Superman, Batman. Always an aspect of the outcast making good.

Captain America, I can say, I didn't follow closely. Why? Because, he was absolutely perfect. He was the rock that the waters broke their waves on. He never blunted. Captain America was my beacon. Spidey, you having issues? Cap has lost all he has held dear, and fights still. Mutants, your civil rights being violated? I can guarantee you Cap will have your back. Avengers, Assemble! And if Cap's in, there's nothing to fear.

Civil War...

Cap. I was with you. The whole time. I never once questioned the freedom you fought for. The hand they forced you to take. Suffering the betrayal of your closest friends. Iron Man should have left you frozen, if all he was going to do years later was betray what he knew you would never stand for. Some futurist.

And at the bitter end. Something strange happened Cap. You stopped fighting. You knew where you were, I know you did. You knew what would happen wherever you get that many heroes fighting. Cap, you were wrong. You were still fighting for us. You were fighting for those of us who believe in you. You stayed your hand from killing Castle, you stayed your hand from kill Stark. You didn't start this. They did. Captain America. You saw the tragedy around you. And as the man who puts the weight of the world on your shoulders. You blamed yourself. I saw the tears in your eyes. And in that moment of grief, of those cops and paramedics holding you back. You blamed yourself. You believed by surrendering; by finally surrendering to a government who tried to take your identity and freedom solely from you years ago, that you would save your friends, both those who fought against you and beside you by revealing yourself now, and surrendering.

They took you to jail. They treated you like that shield that has saved us countless times, didn't matter anymore. I am ashamed. I am ashamed of what we let allow happen. I know you took it on yourself Cap. That you felt you were saving us once again.

Captain America... We should have saved you...

I woke up Wednesday morning. I heard it first from Matt from this board. I went numb. I didn't think it was real. I didn't think that They would do this. Not now. Not without being able to hear from you first.

I saw you shot. I saw you sacrifice yourself again. And as you laid there. Your concern was for others.

Captain America... Steve Rogers... You were too good for this world. You deserved better than us. They wanted to make you a martyr. Those sons of a bitches forgot. You were already a Super Hero.

Many will come, they will pick up your shield. They will put on your colors. But they won't be you. And no one could ever handle your shield like you did.

Rest In Peace Steve Rogers. Captain America.

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.


My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

WHERE THE FUCK WAS UATU? :(

Man of Constant Sorrow...

I'm not a man who has done all the right moves. But I am a man who has followed his heart. And I can clearly say, that all I have done I have done it out of love.

I may have stumbled along the way. Hell, I may have come close to giving up at times. But my heart, I feel, has tried to lead me in the right place.

Love...

Fuck if it ain't a bitch sometimes.

Happy Valentine's.

Space the final frontier... Unless you count that place beyond it...

I've been sci-fi crazy this week, and pretty much all of the rest of the month. I've got one month left to finish this script. I'm pretty excited about this one. It's my first epic. Not worried about it. Hell, Lucas' first big hit was an epic sci-fi. Unlike Star Wars though, my little story involves the science of space, not just the imagination of what-ifs.

I feel the audience today want more. I feel that they want plausibility of what they see on the screen when talking about the future.

How pissed were people in the 50's when they believed they were going to get the 'flying car' by the year 2000?

Heh, I guess by that time they really didn't care. Or the reality just made them bitter. It's sad when people lose their imaginations, their dreams. Reality is a harsh mistress, but that doesn't mean you give up on your dreams.


Just means you try harder.

Wanna see something cute?

My nephew rules. That's all I have to say.

January 1st, 2007...

It is 4:17am as I write this. I am a bit inebriated. And I just got home. As I was coming out of my car door, I met a guy walking down the stree. I said, hi, he said hi. I told him, I'm just getting home. He laughed and said, "It's going to be a helluva year." I smiled, and looked at him and said, "Yes Sir, it definitely is. Take care of yourself."

Happy New Year! This is so my year.

Life...

I look back on the pain in my life. I look back at the 9 years I've been working in film professionally (to some degree or another, hey writing is work fuckers). And even with the heartaches that life throws at me. Even with the missed opportunities that I wish I would have taken up on. With all the bad, and the sporadic good.

I don't think I could have wanted my life to turn out any different. It's made me into the person I am today. Sure, I am up alone at night writing on my blog. But I feel all right with that. Cause I know where I want to go, and I can see the road ahead. Sure, I can't see what's around the corner, or if I'm going to get killed along the way. But I'm sure as hell gonna try.

My parents have these little refrigerator magnets on their... Well, fridge. The ones where they are words and you arrange them to say cute things. I spent like 20 minutes a year ago on one that they still have up on the fridge, it says, "99 percent of people never finish the race. All they have is the road, and they are much better for it."

I was pretty smart that day.

Enjoy it kids, take stock, and if it's shitty at the moment, I can guarantee you, there'll be better days ahead.

Remember, Remember the 7th of December...

Not really, there's nothing particularly special about this day that I know of. I've eaten, I've written, I've organized (go figure), I've worked, and I've drawn breath from time to time. I haven't made money today, I haven't saved a life, I haven't taken a life, I haven't touched ocean water, nor have I seen my beautiful little nephew today. With 6 and a half hours left in the day, I can assume that I won't do much that will make the difference in my life or in others today. If I turned off the screen, and turned off the lights, as the sun goes down and if I listen to the Earth spin. I can imagine the world go on without me. Today, someone will die, someone will save someone else, someone will make a discovery, change a life, take a life, be born into life, smile, puke, have sex, make love, beat on a loved one, and try to take over the world.

But it won't be me, not today. Or so I think...

In truth, we all make are marks, every day, not chisels mind you, or deep scores in the marble of life. But a nick here and there. Seems like you can't go through life without doing so, even if you try. These nicks will build, they will cause the marble to break away from the statue that you're searching for. It will knock the tree down eventually. For now, that slab of stone, that towering oak may seem too large to take on. But believe me, that splinter or sliver of stone that you take off today, will accumulate.

So fuck what I said.

Remember, remember the 7th of December, For whatever reasons you know naught. For that reason, though not pleasing, may be the change that you may wrought.

I'm Somebody's Bitch... I mean Uncle!!!

Lucian Alvarenga. Welcome to our world Nephew. You'll grow to know nothing but love from us kid. Your Dad and Mom are very happy. And are incredibly lucky to have you little man.

Life will be interesting, hard, fun, amazing, strange, sad, happy, and weird. But you won't have to deal with it alone child. We will always be there for you.

Love you kid. You're a heart breaker.

You know it's hard out here for a Gamer...

In the next couple of months. Gears of War, Killzone, Wii, Legend of Zelda, Smackdown VS Raw 2007, Guitar Hero II, Superman Returns, and a slew of other games come out.

Kinda hard on the wallet. But man, it's gonna be exciting as hell.

It seems that games and watching flicks are my only real chances to relax and enjoy myself lately. And of course sex. There's always that.

Either way, good times are gonna be had pretty soon.

Octoberfest, Oktoberfest, 8berfest...

You know I've come close to posting this past month like 5 times. And each time, I've just given deleted what I was going to talk about. It's not that I haven't been able to find anything interesting to talk about, but that I've been in the grind of writing lately that I don't have any real updates. I spent two hours the other day picking out names for the characters in the Sci-fi script I'm working on. I'm up in the air right now as for the short film I was going to film this end of year. It was going to be the Western, but I may do another that I was inspired to come up with. I'm gonna fuck around with that a little more. I'm sussing out the timeline for the comic script I wanna do. I'm trying to figure out which script to do after the Sci-fi one is done. I have about 4 ideas up in the air. One's a kid movie. The other's a comedy. The other's a romantic comedy. And the other is Legend of Fucking Zelda. Though the last one I would love to do, the thing is, everyone and their momma's got a LoZ script. And I really don't think Nintendo's going to allow that movie to happen any time soon.

I'm getting over being sick right now, the flu tried to hit, but only got in about half way. Some weird bug going around. My brother and his wife are due pretty soon with a bundle of joy. I can't wait to see my brother watch his wife go through the birthing process. That'll be fun.

But other than that, it feels like this past month was just a grind. Next month for some reason I'm stoked for. Not just for the shit load of games that come out, along with the Wii system. But I'll have made some great progress with the scripts I'm working on.

So now that I got off my chest, that I don't have anything interesting to say for last month. I've got some interesting shit to talk about in the post above this one, so if you're reading this one, forgive the boredom you now feel. And if it's up, take a look at the story above this one, that shit's gonna be cool. In the meantime, I leave you with this random image that I decided to put up for the hell of it.

My Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades...

Writing...

What does it consist of?

What, in its nits and grits, does it boil down to?

I guess every writer has his/her definitions. So let's talk about me for a change in this blog. What does it boil down to for myself.

Well, I guess it comes down to my ideal. I write how I ideally think the world should be, or rather how I believe the world will work in certain circumstances. It sounds nice, but it gets strange when I delve into that theory.

It means that when I write about a woman who allows herself to be purposely raped. I put myself in that situation, and make it as uncomfortable as possible for myself, because ideally, that's what I'm looking for in this scenario.

It means when I kill one of my characters out of pure and utter hatred. I murder them in the best way that fits for that situation.

But, along with the negative, I write the positive. And I've come to a realization. I live in my writing world. At least in my mind.

This world is gorgeous, but oft times, people can make it down right ugly. I write about a world that we want it to be, but more to the fact, I live in my pretty world with all of its nastiness.

Ideals are sometimes confused with the lie. I don't write lies. Lies are things that aren't true. Ideals can be true, and on rare occasions, are true.

We strive for the ideal. And I write about it, but also reside in it. I think this throws a lot of people off when I talk to them about my life and my view of the world.

I understand the realities and accept them. But I'll never stop living in a better world. It's nicer (and sometimes scarier) here.

Thirty Something...

How many 30 year olds do you know? Well, now I know one more, me. This weekend was my birthday. Thirty years old... What can I say? What have I learned? What tidbits of knowledge can I pass down to the younger generation?


Nothing...

Go learn it yourself, you're going to do what you're going to do anyway.

Toothpaste & Lube...

That is what I went to go pick up today at Walgreens. The look on the face of the woman behind the counter lasted for a split second as she held a bottle of lube in her hand, realizing what she had. I wonder if she thought both items were in correlation of each other? I wonder if she wondered if I knew something she didn't? Tonight, I may have envoked a Walgreens check out girl to buy a bottle of lube and toothpaste. Tomorrow's headlines may be interesting folks. Stay tuned to the world.

Some people call me, Space Cowboy...

They really don't, but I'm going to start asking some people to begin to do so. You know, working on this new Sci-Fi script has been intriguing as all hell.

My days are spent for the most part in research mode and notes; and my nights are taken up by actual writing on the script.

What's so much fun is the research, or rather what I've been learning about the Universe. It's easy to see how people can just as easily confuse the wonders of the natural world around them, with religion. The difference of course is that, unlike religion, the natural world doesn't just stop being amazing around them. I mean, when was the last time you followed a burning bush that wasn't someone smoking weed, or a hooker with a venereal disease?
For example, this image.

This is the Lenticular Galaxy, in the constellation Draco. It's 44 million light-years away(for those unfamiliar with light years. A light year is the speed of traveling for one year, at the speed of light, and the speed of light is 186,000 miles/second, so times that by 44 million, and that's how far you have to travel). This image is a composite of many separate exposures made in February 11, 2006 by the ACS instrument on the Hubble Space Telescope using several different filters. It was a 2.5 hour exposure.

All the tech shit aside, this thing is absolutely beautiful. No burning bush, no parting of the Red Sea, no killing the first born, no doctrine, no manifesto. Just nature in all of it's glory. I can see why people can get the two confused. Here's how you can tell. One is fiction, a book written by people so scared when they are confronted by an image like the one you see here, all they can do is drop to their knees and pray to it. The other, is fact. That this galaxy, in all of its beauty, is a massive twirling mass of gas and matter. Does it make it any less spectacular?

fortune favors the living

People are confused about a new email in their inboxes announcing, among other things, that Mars will be closer than ever in recorded history in August 2006. But, although it contains a grain of truth, this email is a hoax.

Mars is too close to the sun for safe viewing by amateur astronomers this month. Mars is visible with difficulty after sunset for the first two weeks of the month before becoming lost in the glare of the sun by month's end.

Back in 2003, Mars was the closest to Earth than it was going to be in our life times. I was fortunate enough to be aware of this knowledge, and had the joy of staring into the night sky and looking at this huge red dot.

It's strange when you think about the things that you have been fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to witness in your lifetime. I was alive to see the Berlin wall fall. I was alive to see the Space Shuttle disaster (both), I was alive to see us reach Mars (with an unmanned probe), I was alive to see a comet strike a planet, I was alive to see Tupac, B.I.G., Jam Master Jay, Eazy-E, die untimely deaths and utterly change rap music in their demise (it hasn't been the same since), I've been alive to witness two official wars (and several unofficial ones), and was alive to see one of the greatest natural and unnatural disasters in human history.


You'd think that with all the interesting shit that happens in this world, we'd find better things to write about than a Lady in The Water, or what You, Me, and Dupree are up to, or the dealings of a Little Man. These movies are mind-numbingly... Well, mind-numbing. But I guess they appeal to the cannon foddered masses.

Personally I'm excited about the end of this month. My girlfriend is gonna stay with me before she heads off to school. It's cool to show someone something for the first time that you have been used to all your life. You get to see it through their eyes. I love you Sara, I'm fortunate enough to have you in my life.

My Brother's Best Friend...

Has been put to sleep today. Snoop was in his later years, and fell sick last night. Today my brother held his little guy in his arms as they injected him. He felt his heart beat fade to stillness. One moment here, the next, gone. For almost ten years my brother had Snoop, took him from a family, from what I understand, mistreated Snoop. That dog was loved by all of us, but for my brother, Snoop was; Is; his best friend.

We like to think of ourselves as an intelligent species, the only form of life that can show emotion. We're fools for thinking that. Snoop loved my brother. Missed him when he was away, looked for him when he was at home. Was with him when he met his future wife. Probably was in the room while he consummated his future child. Okay, I'm kidding on that one (at least I hope so). Snoop was one of the sweetest animals (human or otherwise), that I have ever met. And I'm overwhelmed with joy, to have the memories I have with that little dog. And I'm going to tell you the best one I have.

My brother and I were sitting in the living room at my folks house. My little cousin was 7 or 8 months old, just barely able to walk. Snoop sauntered over to us as he usually does, trying to sneak in a seat on the couch, cause he wasn't allowed. My little cousin was holding himself up next to the coffee table. He had his little shirt on, and diapers, just hanging out with us. When lo and behold, Snoop walks over to my cousin, awkwardly knocks him down on his hands and knees, and begins to hump away at my cousin. At first I thought the little guy fell. But when I saw Snoop attempt to hump my cousin (the kid was wearing diapers, and Snoops a little dog, so he really couldn't get on him), I couldn't for the life of me, move him off. I was to damn busy laughing so fucking hard. The look on my little cousin's face of, 'What?' My brother also laughing his ass off. And Snoop, looking forward, and I could swear I heard him say, "You don't love me, you just love my 'Doggy-Style'."

Thank you Snoop, for bringing us such joy in our lives. Rest easy little guy.

You Like Me, You Really Like Me...

Found out this weekend that people actually read my blog. Go figure. Now I almost feel obligated to actually put something on here meriting a good read.

Almost...

I get a partially decent idea, and I opt instead to ramble on about how I just watched Superman.

By the way, I just watched Superman. Holy Fucking Christ, it rocked.

Loved the film with every last fiber of my fanboy heart. I got choked up a couple of times, because I once again believed, a man can fly.

Do yourselves a favor, and watch a great flick.

Speaking of flicks. I've been completely over my cold for the last couple of days (fucking a week sick, what the fuck is that about?), so I'm back at the grind. I'm awaiting a phone call, a letter, a text message, a pager message (the old school numeric kind), hell a smoke signal from the people who are dishing out the grants. They'll let me know either way, but Daddy gotta make a movie this end of Summer. And that's coming up soon. In the meantime, still gonna be working on the Sci-fi flick, and looking for that lucky agent who's gonna represent me.

For those who've read this, keep on reading (and post a response if you want). I'll start talking about nudity. And not my own.

Down and desperately wanting to be out.

I got a cold this past Monday, and the fever is finally breaking. Needless to say, I've been out of commission these last several days. Who'd have thought writing for a couple weeks straight with about a couple hours of sleep a day would eventually catch up with you?

Oh well, c'est la vie.

Done???

They call me Hadoken...cause I'm Down, Right, Fierce!
I had to post that, cause, well I'm a fucking geek.

Speaking of, now that the script's done. Here comes selling it.

And damn, if that ain't more work than writing the thing. I hate interacting with people, a curse of all writers I guess. But I feel weird calling up people and peddling myself to them.

But then I think about the money that's gonna come from this bad boy...

It's a good thing I've got a sexy voice, that's all I gotta say ;)

Done...

Two years in the making. But a script that was near and dear to my heart is finally done. Technically it was done last year. But there were parts of the script that were just flat out killing me. One scene in particular, for the life of me, I couldn't get right. Take note kids, don't write about something so excruciatingly painful, that every time you go to it, your body goes through upheavals.

So when do I get to read it you ask?

You've got to wait. It's going to the Writer's Guild of America as we speak. As soon as this bad boy is registered it is off to be sold. That's right, I'm selling this bad boy. Consider it, compensation for time served.

With luck, it'll be picked up and made into one of those 'moving picture' dealies.

Here's to Shatters, you've come a long way baby.

I Am All That Is Man!

I saw this over at IGN, and I thought it deserved it's own little place here. Some of you still haven't played online, and soon, you won't have a choice, so when someone tells you, "Pwned!" Now you'll know why. Here's a little dictionary of gaming terms.

"Pwned" - A corruption of the word "Owned." This originated in an online game called Warcraft, where a map designer misspelled "owned." When the computer beat a player, it was supposed to say, so-and-so "has been owned." Instead, it said, so-and-so "has been pwned." May also be used to your friends when they lose their keys, drop a cell phone or spill coffee on their new pants.

"W00t" - "w00t" was originally a truncated expression common among players of Dungeons and Dragons tabletop role-playing game for "Wow, loot!" Thus the term passed into the net-culture where it thrived in videogame communities and lost its original meaning and is used simply as a term of excitement and extreme nerdiness.

"I defeated the dark sorcerer! Woot!"

"Teabagged" - A traditional saying in shooters, after you get killed or owned, the enemy begins to crouch up and down on your dead body, whether over your head or other preferred area of the corpse. Makes great kill-cam footage.

"You got served!" - Another way of saying "You just got owned" or "Pwned!" or "You suck at breakdancing!"

"ZOMG HAXX" - Two separate words, 'zomg' is derived from 'omg' meaning oh my god. 'zomg' puts an extra ZO in it, so it sounds like ZOH-MAI-GOHDUH. 'Hax' is commonly used on the Xbox Live world as a defense mechanism for people with low self-esteem who need to justify getting beat by accusing the opposing player for cheating. In conclusion, 'ZOMG HAX' means to be incredibly excited/confused/depressed about losing a game or your pathetic life, in general.

"N00b" - An insult term referring to someone who is new to a game - but is more widely used as a general insult. Usually gets spouted by an elitist, or bad players that can't accept losing (and calls everyone else 'noobs' for beating him). The videogame world's version of a rookie.

"Kekeke" - It's what some Koreans say in online games, usually signifies joy, or sometimes it's like a war-cry. You'll see this from an enemy if he is killing you, he is Korean, or both.

ATTACK THE BASE! KEKEKE!!!"

"Suxxor" - Modified version of the verb "to suck", and the meaning is roughly the same. There are two main uses, as a verb ("Dude, that suxxorz!") and as a noun ("You are teh suxxor."). They appear independently. The verb version is antonymous to roxxor ("to rock"), and a noun could be considered as a counterpart to "haxor" ("hacker"). The pronunciation is "suck-zor". Contrary to some claims, EverQuest's spell "Succor" has nothing to do with that word (actually pronounced "Soo-kore"). This is one of the early uses of the -zor word-ending. Don't say this to your girlfriend.

"Base raping" - When a team has captured all of the bases but one. Members of that team surround the last remaining spawn point and decimate the team with additional kills, insults. Note: Being base-raped sux.

"Ridicapwned" - When someone pwns someone....but it's ridiculous.

"Janitor" - Someone who avoids the main battle and cleans up on wounded survivors to finish them off.

"Muhahahaha" - Evil laugh.

"The Rocks" - Rocket launcher in Halo2.

"Bring a baggie fo ya teef - You just got assassinated.

"Boomstick" - Shotgun.

"Blue Screen Bitches" - Quitters.

"No-scoped" - A single shot sniper kill without the use of sights or a scope.

The Continuous Adventures of Dumb Fuck... Episode II

Another installment of...


"The Continuous Adventures of Dumb Fuck - Dumb Fuck Gets A Costume"

A congealed, almost porous substance, pounded flat against hard wood. Sounds of wet flesh smacked against hard glass. He tosses a white powder against it. The sounds are no longer wet. A red, richly thick liquid, runs all over... It seeps in slightly. It spreads to the very edges, like lava flow, then stops. Cheese is tossed on it, along with slices of linguica, pineapple, and finally jalapenos. Dumb Fuck always makes a pizza for himself near the end of his shift. The boss doesn't mind, and most people don't come in this late at night. He slides it into the oven and pulls the steel doors shut. He strains a bit as he recoils. He lifts his shirt to see if his bandages are ripped, he pulls back his bulletproof vest and reveals bruises from his three cracked ribs. It's been two weeks since Dumb Fuck learned he was a super hero. And it's been four days since he last tried to figure out how exactly he is a super hero. So far he's got cracked ribs from jumping off a chair to see if he can fly, a nice little cut on his forearm from a stab wound he gave himself to see if he was impervious, and a black eye from his coworker that he asked to be slapped by, just to make sure that the knife cut wasn't a fluke from his super human strength (which, he knows now that he doesn't have). Dumb Fuck hasn't given up, but he will try to use a little more tact in his next experiments. His coworker comes in from the back room as he tucks his shirt back in, his bandages are fine.

"D. F.?" She says walking in with a barrel of sauce, "Is you're face still hurting?" Dumb Fuck looks at her. A beautiful young girl in her mid-twenties. Her vibrantly red hair tied up in a bun, so as not to get any 'pizza guts' as she says, in it. Her eyes, a light shade of brown, like the bottom of a soft flowing stream, when the sun hits it just right. The fibers of her eyes are so tightly woven that you could stare for hours, and never make them out. Dumb Fuck can never get enough of them.
"I'm fine Sheby. Just getting my pizza ready."
"You know, I would have never hit you, but I couldn't pass that up."
"It's cool Sheby."
"I mean a Britney Spears' DVD!"
"Yeah, it was my pleasure."
"It even had the one when she performed in that Elvis suit..."
"Sheby!" He interrupts. "I really didn't want it."
"By the way?" She says obliviously, "I've been meaning to ask you, why do you call me that?"
"What? Sheby?"
"Yeah, it's not like it bothers me or anything, I think it's cute, but everyone else calls me Shibana. You're the only one who's ever given me a nickname."
"Well, you call me D.F.?"
"Can't call you Dumb Fuck in front of the customers, right? At least not without an explanation, or an apology."
"I don't know why I call you that, but if it bothers you..."
"No not at all, I like it, just curious is all." Just then, the door bursts open. They topple off their hinges from the force. Four men walk in, stepping on the doors as they enter. The last one jumps over the doors.
"God Damn Jerry! You fucked up those doors!" He says.
"Don't give me no shit Larry!", says Jerry, "I'm not in the mood." Larry, Jerry, Gary, and Harry. Once Lawrence, Jeremiah, Garibald, and Harold. These four middle aged men, have all quit their jobs as sales representatives at their respective "Dot Com" companies, to pursue a dream of reckless abandonment. They all cashed in their 401K's to buy each of them a Harley Davidson Motorcycle, a bowie knife each (compliments of Harry who watches "The Knives Collectors Show" on the Home Shopping Network), and cool zippo lighters (even though Larry doesn't smoke).
They all have on leather in some way. Larry has on leather pants, a little tight for him and they make a lot of noise when he walks. He also has on a leather hat, the kind that Indiana Jones wears, except all black. Gary has on a leather vest, he saw it once in a movie, he thought it was cool. Harry has on leather forearm guards, he saw them in a movie as well. And finally, Jerry has a leather trench coat, he doesn't wear it when he rides, however. He doesn't want to ruin it, so he folds it up, carefully, and tucks it away in his bike compartment, he only takes it out when he is going inside somewhere, but this time he has forgotten it. They haven't really committed any serious crimes, mostly misdemeanors. Jerry is the only one who actually carries a gun. They haven't really used it yet, they pointed at a young Asian man once and told him to 'Go back to China you fucking gook!" The young man was going to tell them that he's Filipino, not Chinese. Also, that gook is a ethnic slur for Vietnamese people, but they rode off on their motorcycles before he got a chance to say anything.
Dumb Fuck comes running in from around the counter, followed closely by Shibana. Jerry sees them.
"Damn boy." Jerry says to Dumb Fuck, "Fucking doors must be old as hell, nearly got us killed." A feeling comes over Dumb Fuck, something familiar and normal.
"That's okay sir," Dumb Fuck says apologetically, "We'll get that fixed."
"In the meantime," continues Jerry, "Why don't you fix us up with two pitchers of beer before we order our pizza."
"No problem sir." Dumb Fuck turns away as the four men sit at the table. He takes Sheby by the arm. "Take their order and be really cool about it, no long talks, they're not the nicest of people." Sheby looks at them, and then to Dumb Fuck.
"Okay, no problem." Dumb Fuck walks back as Sheby goes to take their order. "Hi, how are you?" No answer from any of them. "You guys came right on time, we were just about to close."
"Well you're a cute one ain't ya?" Larry leans back looking at the "too young for him, so it feels oh so right" young lady. Sheby smiles graciously.
"What would you like?"
"What do you recommend?" Says Harry, the only one actually looking at the menu.
"We'll have a ultimate meat meat pizza, which has every single meat that we have..."
"No, I'm trying to cut back on eating too much meat." Interrupts Larry.
"God Damn it Larry!" Harry puts down the menu. "Every fucking place we go to you got to watch your fucking meat intake."
"What? I've been trying to lose weight, that's all?"
"You have been a fucking but-plug about that shit, Larry." Says Gary. Larry leans towards Gary.
"I can't fit into these pants anymore, Gary. They're getting tight, plus every time I sweat, they seem to shrink." Harry's eyes light up.
"Hey did you ever see that episode of Friends when Ross bought leather pants and he couldn't get into them?"
"That was Alley McBeal." Says Gary assuredly.
"No I think he's right," says Larry, "It was Friends."
"Are you sure?" Gary says. Jerry, all of a sudden, slams his hand on the table.
"Are you fucking femmes done?" The other three fall silent. "Look, Red." He says to Sheby, "We'll have an extra large pizza, with linguica, jalapenos, and pineapples." Larry looks at Jerry worriedly.
"But..."
"You can pick it off Larry." Jerry leans back in his chair. Sheby jots down the order, already bored with the conversation.
"Will that be all?"
"I guess so." Says Larry disappointingly.
"Okay, It'll be a couple minutes." As Sheby starts to walk off, Jerry stops her.
"Hey, that boy ain't going to make the pizza, is he?"
"Who, D.F." Sheby says curiously, "No he just handles the register, I make the pizzas at night." Jerry turns to the other three.
"Good, didn't want that nigger touching my food." Jerry laughs loudly. The other three turn their heads a bit, faking their chuckles. Sheby, a little surprised, tries to lighten, the all of a sudden sullen mood.
"Well," she says, "He's half white actually."
"Hey!" Jerry says sternly, "A nigger is a nigger is a nigger. And that's that. No matter how white you try to make him, he still looks like shit to me." Jerry laughs again, this time alone. The other three look at each other. Memories of sitting at a cubicle discussing their online stock options with their brokers, while sending forwards of the latest Osama Bin Laden getting fucked in the ass by a goat in the Tora Bora caves pic; all of a sudden become very fond.
"Well. alrighty then." Harry says trying to break the tension.
"I'll get your order sir." Sheby, with no more to say, walks to the back. She walks to Dumb Fuck as he fills the last pitcher of beer. She lays down the order next to him as she reaches for the dough in silence. "Well, I could have done without the Jim Carrey reference, among other things."
"Hey!" Dumb Fuck says amusingly as he looks at the order. "They ordered the same thing I like."
"Yeah they did." Sheby says softly.
"They got good taste." Dumb Fuck says nodding his head. Sheby looks at him.
"D.F., they called you the "N" word." Dumb Fuck looks puzzled.
"What's the "N" word?"
"Oh come on, you couldn't have forgotten that?"
"Noodle Dick?" Sheby looks at him shockingly.
"No!"
"Well good, cause I could have whipped it out for them if they really wanted to..."
"They called you nigger!"
"Oh, that "N" word." Dumb Fuck stops the spout as the pitcher fills. "Well, there's no accounting for taste." He grabs the other pitcher and motions to go out.
"You're not planning on going out there are you?"
"Look Sheby, it's hard enough for me to remember why the "N" word is so bad, and even harder to remember why I should take offense off of someone I don't know. I'm not going to do anything but give them their beer and get them on their way." He grabs the pitchers and walks out toward the table.
Gary and Larry are playing with their lighters as Dumb Fuck turns the corner. Larry is trying to show Gary a really cool way to flick the lighter on, something he saw on "Reservoir Dogs". Jerry keeps his eye trained on Dumb Fuck as he sets down the pitchers.
"Here you go guys," Dumb Fuck taps Jerry lightly on the back. "Your pizza is coming right up." Jerry grabs Dumb Fuck's hand tightly.
"That little bitch told you didn't she?" The others stop what they're doing and look at Jerry. A wave of terror runs up their spine. They mistake it for adrenaline.
"Told me what, sir?" Dumb Fuck is surprisingly calm.
"Red, get your ass out here!" Jerry looks at Dumb Fuck. "We're going to have us a little chat."
"Sir I assure you that she hasn't told me..."
"No!" Jerry reaches into his crotch and pulls the gun out, not realizing that he had the gun stuffed into his underwear. All the squirming and moving around that he's been doing has unfortunately pinched a few of his pubic hairs between the moving parts. Later, the police Forensics Department will spend about four thousand dollars of man power and resources trying to figure it out. But for now, Jerry had to hide the pain as he slams the gun on the counter. "Get that little bitch out here!" Dumb Fuck didn't here a word Jerry said. The moment he saw the gun, his mind was ablaze. Jerry's hand twitched. Dumb Fuck, reacts, slides his hand around Jerry's side. He turned in a blink of an eye and Dumb Fuck slammed his hand down hard on top of Jerry's. Jerry only saw a flash of light. He looks down at his hand, his mouth gaping as Dumb Fuck pulls his hand away. In Dumb Fuck's hand was Jerry's Four-forty, stainless steel, African Safari bowie knife.
Larry, Gary, and Harry, stare in amazement. Curiously, Jerry pulls his hand away. More curiously as he discovers, his forefinger remains. There, at the trigger guard, next to a pubic hair, lies Jerry's finger and the trigger, both beautifully severed by a thin piece of metal, from their respective owner's. For a moment, Jerry's mind slips into a thought on how he is going to recover from his internet stock crash, "the market has been sucky lately." He thinks to himself.
At that moment, Sheby comes around the corner to the tables. She sees the men standing around a now-curling, bloody finger.
"Dumb Fuck, what did you do?" Harry, being the one sitting at the end of the table turns to look at Sheby, then to Dumb Fuck.
"Your name's Dumb Fuck?" Dumb Fuck looks at Harry for a moment, then quickly looks at Jerry. Jerry has begun to reach for the knife. His wits coming back to him. Dumb Fuck dives for the knife. The other three push back. Harry does so, very hard and knocks down Sheby. She slams the back of her head against the opposite table and is knocked out cold. Dumb Fuck pulls the knife out of the table. He sees the men getting up and takes that as an attack. Larry is the closest to Dumb Fuck. Dumb Fuck takes the knife and buries it into Larry's throat. Larry stumbles back and his leather pants slip down and trip him up. As Larry falls, Dumb Fuck pulls the knife out of his throat. A slight gurgling sound is heard.
Dumb Fuck balances himself on Larry's head as he spins towards Harry, his hand catches Larry's hat before he goes down. With a flick of his wrist, the knife slides out of Dumb Fuck's hand and plants itself in Harry's chin. Harry instinctively grabs for his chin, but before he could get his hands to his face, Dumb Fuck grabs him by the forearms. Dumb Fuck leans back and kicks the knife into Harry's chin deeper. The blade disappears completely into Harry head as he falls back. His leather forearm guards slide off into Dumb Fuck's hands.
Gary has chosen this particular moment (for obvious reasons) to run. Dumb Fuck is on him in no time. He grabs Gary by his vest, Gary is pulled back but he slides out of it. Dumb Fuck drops the vest and steps on the back of Gary shin. Gary falls to his knees as Dumb Fuck takes another step, on Gary's neck. He bears his weight on it, it snaps on impact. Dumb Fuck steps off of Gary, his boot imprinted on the back of his neck. He checks Sheby if she's ok. He takes the vest off of the floor and puts it under her head. Dumb Fuck walks around the table, picking up the forearm guards and the hat as he walks around. Jerry sits in the same chair, unable to move from what he has just seen. He sees Dumb Fuck's eyes fixed upon him, burning into him as he gets closer. Jerry is able to make a soft noise in the back of his throat, his mouth completely dried.
"What was that?" Dumb Fuck asks. Jerry gulps.
"Don't kill me, please."
"Oh, I'm not." Dumb Fuck says calmly. Jerry snaps out of his daze.
"Huh?"
"Look..."
"Jerry."
"Jerry." Dumb Fuck continues. "Look Jerry you have one chance to live."
"Anything."
"You take the wrap for this." He looks at Dumb Fuck confused.
"For what?"
"For all this." Dumb Fuck points at Larry, "For that." He points at Harry, "And that." And turns to Gary, "And of course that. You take the fall for this shit, since this is all your fault." You get up and leave, and you will be that bad ass that you pretend to be." A smile comes across Jerry's face as he pictures himself in Dumb Fuck's shoes as he "Jackie Chan'd" everyone's ass just now. He looks up at Dumb Fuck and the smile wipes away. He gets up slowly and keeps his eye trained on Dumb Fuck.
"You want me to leave now?"
"Yeah Jerry, that would be a good thing, I got to call the cops pretty damn soon."
"The cops?"
"Yeah Jerry, you just killed three people."
"For what?"
"I don't know Jerry, you think I have the insight to your madness? The fact is you killed them and you fled. I didn't get a good look at your face, just a build, neither did Sheby here when she gets up. But remember Jerry, if the cops do catch you, you fall, and you fall big time, you know that right?"
"Yeah I'm getting that." Jerry begins to get excited to leave. To live his, however awkward, dream. He pushes the chair in. He turns to Dumb Fuck. "Thanks." He starts to leave. Dumb Fuck stops him.
"Jerry."
"Yeah?"
"Leave your keys, you fought with them and stole one of their motorcycle cause you don't have one anymore." Jerry reaches into his pocket. And puts the keys on the table.
"Okay. Whose bike?"
"Jerry I don't care, pick one." Jerry reaches down to Larry's side, without looking at him he took his keys and his wallet.
"Can I take his wallet?"
"Go ahead, but leave your finger." Dumb Fuck goes to the back and picks up the phone. Jerry stands for a moment realizing now that his finger is still bleeding, badly. He grabs a napkin and wraps it up. As he does so, he hears Dumb Fuck say, "Hello police, there's been a murder." Jerry runs out of the door.
As the night lingers on, two rumbling noises are heard at opposite ends of town. One races away desperately heading for the border. Not because he wants to, but because he figures everyone else does. Everyone in the movies that he's seen. Jerry has been given his dream. Forced into his fantasy, he doesn't know whether to cry or smile. So he does both. No more cubicles for Jerry. No phone conferences, no stupid funny email forwards. And no finger.
At the other end of town, after the questions and explanations to both Sheby and the police, Dumb Fuck pulls up to his apartment for the first time that he can remember, on his own vehicle, sort of. He opens the door to his apartment. On the chair in the kitchen he hangs up the trench coat that he found in Jerry's bike. He sets the forearm guards, the hat, and the leather vest neatly on the table. Things he conveniently kept from the cops. He goes over to his bed, as he removes his clothes he picks up the book that he has next to his night stand. He smoothes out the corner of the sticker on the cover that says, "computer geek inside." A joke still lost to him. As he flips to the last page he checks his bandages one more time. They're fine. There on the last page is written, "You're a super hero." Right underneath is written, "How?" And a list of words crossed out, such as invulnerable, flying, healing factor, etc. Dumb Fuck looks up at the kitchen chair. The trench coat hanging on it, the hat settled on the table. Dumb Fuck smiles.
As he gets into bed, he continues to smile. There on the nightstand, a little black book is left open to a certain page. A line, "You're a super hero." scrawled onto the page. Several words crossed out, such as invulnerable, flying, healing factor, etc. As well as the word "How?" Next to it, an arrow is drawn across to the next page. There in a new page. is written, "You are a super hero, you fucking kick much ass. And your costume is hanging on the chair in the kitchen.

The End

The Continuous Adventures of Dumb Fuck... Episode I

So a while back, I wanted to write a character that I would never make into a film, or utilize in a story. The character would just be my creative outlet to write when I felt the need to write, but didn't want to do any work. So I created Dumb Fuck. I've only done a couple episodes, over the last couple years, but I figure this is a nice place to share them with you.

Enjoy

"The Continuous Adventures of Dumb Fuck - Dumb Fuck Becomes a Super Hero"

It's not his fault of course, he thought it was the only real thing he got from his father. Think back as far as you can remember. Do you remember your first dream? Do you remember the first time you ever ate strained peas? Dumb Fuck doesn't. But he does have a vague, broken recollection of his father. Basically a man that looks like he does now. A muddled memory of his father grabbing him by his four year old neck. He would've done it by the hair but his father kept him shaved.
"Have no fucking time to deal with your head and the goddamn shampoo!" He used to say. Once he had a good grip, the kind that left bruises and shallow imprints, he slammed him head first against the aluminum screen door of the church. "Get your silly ass in their Dumb Fuck!" His dad wasn't that creative, he's seen enough movies to figure out that he could leave his kid at a church, but didn't realize that a Monday night, when the church is closed, usually isn't the best time. When the kid came to his senses he sat down at the steps, bleeding from his forehead. The priest saw him the next morning, shivering.
"Are you okay son? What's your name?" He stares up at him squinting through the dried blood on his head.
"My name's Dumb Fuck."
Dumb Fuck was later told why his father might have called him that. Dumb Fuck has a severe memory problem. A form of amnesia that he can't quite remember the name of. It comes to him spontaneously, sometimes he'd go a month without his memory being virtually wiped clean, sometimes only a day. He'd never forget everything. He still knew how to tie his shoe, wipe his ass, fuck (though he doesn't know how often), etc. And he always remembered his name, at least the one his father gave him. The doctors; the ones the halfway house that he grew up in could afford anyway, said that he was functional enough to not be hospitalized. It didn't matter to Dumb Fuck, he just wanted to keep his name. They begged and pleaded with Dumb Fuck, but eventually they gave in. Dumb Fuck has a social security card, a driver's license, several years ago Publisher's Clearing House wrote saying that "Dumb Fuck might be the proud winner of one million dollars." It didn't pan out.
Dumb Fuck has a book. A little black book that he keeps next to his bed table. A sticker on the front reads, "Computer Geek Inside". A joke that he has long forgotten. In the first page an inscription saying, "Write what's important in here so you won't forget who you are. And leave the book at home so you don't lose it. Best Wishes, Father Alvarenga." The several pages following are of basic things. The fact that he's half black, a reminder that he receives time and time again when he tries to get a cab. His memory loss, where he lives, a small apartment furnished sparsely with every single IKEA necessity that he could barely afford. His name, with "no joke" written underneath it. Several job references with reminders of when he was fired and when he was hired... The last entry of his jobs, working at Shakey's Pizza. Some of the pages in his book are worn, some oddly colored with a clear rusty stain. These pages are the odd ones. There isn't a lot written on them, but what is written is disturbing to him, or at least they would be if he could remember why they're there. On one of these oddly red pages is written in sporadic script, "You have a gun. Either on you or under the pillow." Several pages further he wrote, "You have a bullet proof vest, wear it." It usually hangs on the bed post, with three, half inch deep dents. One on the lower back, and the other two on the chest. Dumb Fuck assumes that he acquired the vest and gun when he was working security at a mall. Why it has a silencer, he never bothered to ask. Why he wears the vest and the gun still, he figures that working at Shakey's at night can be hazardous.
Dumb Fuck sits in front of the Radio Shack in his neighborhood. They leave the T.V.'s on with sound at night, and since he doesn't have one at his place, it's cheaper than going to the movies. Plus a bench has been conveniently erected there in memory of some old lady who happened to die right on that very spot. People say that she was watching a Britney Spears video when she died. She apparently was an old lesbian woman, that found the young teen pop star so hot, she had an orgasm so intense that she had a stroke and died. That's why the manager of the Radio Shack has kept it on the news since then.
Dumb Fuck fingers his nearly finished mocha latte as he watches his third commercial break, for coming up next on the news, "Why Coffee drinks are good for you." Dumb Fuck's ears are perked when he hears the fast paced thumping of little feet on the pavement. A young boy runs up to Dumb Fuck. He sits right next to him looking down at the street. The young boy, no more than thirteen years old, looks up at Dumb Fuck out of breath.
"Hey." He struggles to say. Dumb Fuck, paying little attention to the young boy, answers back.
"Hey." All of a sudden a quickly paced thudding sound, heavier than the first comes quickly up to the bench. The young boy gets up standing to the side of Dumb Fuck, as Dumb Fuck looks up to his left where the young boy came from, and sees a man out of breath, coming at them.
"Thought you could out run me you little shit!" He stammers, as he comes to a halt. He picks up his pants, though they were well below his waist to begin with, running had made them drop to his knees. "You better give me my fucking money!" He continues, "Or they're going to have to put another bench right next to that old, gay, white bitch's!" The young boy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of money that could not add up to more than seventy-five dollars.
"This is my momma's money fool." The young boy puts it back into his pocket.
"That slutty ass ho wasn't worth the fuck." The man snickers. "She didn't even go down on a nigga!"
"Fuck You" The boy moves towards the man. The man reaches into his half fallen pants.
"Nah little man! Fuck you!" He pulls out a gun and points it at the young boy.
"Can you guys keep it down." Dumb Fuck looks up at the both of them.
"Who the fuck is this, your daddy?"
"Nah bitch!" The little boy replies, "That's your momma's pimp."
"I don't care who the fuck you are nigga, but this between me and this little shit." By this time Dumb Fuck has already missed the coffee segment. He puts his finished mocha down and stands up in front of the young boy.
"Put the gun down.", says Dumb Fuck.
"Shit, was going to shoot you anyway." The man shoots Dumb Fuck twice in the chest. He lowers his gun and smiles. His smile quickly fades as Dumb Fuck didn't fall. The man lifts the gun once again, but before he could take aim, Dumb Fuck reaches into his jacket, pulls out his gun, and shoots the man at the trigger guard. His finger explodes into fragments metal and flesh. The man, in shock of his recently lost finger stares into the gaping hole where his index used to be. He has little time to look at his assailant when Dumb Fuck pulls the trigger again. The bullet, so hot from the massive speed, barely reaches the man's eye as the intense heat and sonic blast ruptures it. The bullet quickly passes through the liquefied eye ball bag, and easily slides into the socket. A spray of clear liquid mixed with blood and brain matter rupture through the man's head. Small pieces of bone embed on the bullet as it hits and halts on a stop sign about 15 feet away. The man falls to his knees and then to his face breaking his knee caps and then his cheek bone in the process. Dumb Fuck puts his gun away and turns to the young boy. The young boy's mouth gaped open at the incident he just witnessed. Boyz in the Hood was never this graphic, he thought to himself. He quickly looks up at Dumb Fuck, expecting to see blood, but he sees nothing. His instincts get the better of him, and running away seems like a good option.
"Thanks man." The young boy says as he collects himself.
"No problem." Says Dumb Fuck.
"No I mean it, thanks." The young boy pats him on the back as he starts to run off. At that moment, Dumb Fuck's head swims. His memory lost. Dumb Fuck sees the young boy running off, the young boy turns one more time to Dumb Fuck.
"You're a fucking Super Hero!" The young boy runs out of sight. Dumb Fuck looks at the young boy fading off. And to his amazement, he sees the body for the first time (sort of) laying at his feet. Dumb Fuck, quite dazed begins to walk off. Habit; and later finding his wallet in his pocket, get him to his place several hours later. Dumb Fuck takes off his jacket, pays no attention to the thud that it makes on the table. Takes his shirt off and his bullet proof vest, now with five dents, and goes to sit at the bed. Dumb Fuck sees his book, and begins to read... After several hours he picks up a pen. He opens to the next page with an open line and begins to write.
"You're a Super Hero."

The End

Me Doing Work, Actually Gets Things Done.

Who would've thunk it. But shit, I've been writing my ass of as of late, and I've gotten so much shit done. Guess deadlines have a way of motivating you.

That and I think my Muse has been drunk and in Quantanamo Bay, Cuba as a detainee. They must have confused her for being a terrorist. Only thing she's responsible for is fucking my brains, and not in the good way (okay sometimes in a good way).

But she's back, and man, has she got a dirty mind. I have finally finished the sex scene in one of my scripts, this scene has pretty much held back the completion of the screenplay. But I don't think it could have come out any better, I'm really happy with how it ties in to the story, and how it's just not an excuse to show tits on screen. Really, it's not an excuse at all, it's tasteful.

Being back on track feels really good. Come June 23rd, I'll have one of the nearest and dearest scripts I have ever written completed. Check it out in theaters (hopefully next year).

$1500 For 8 gigs???

You gotta be shitting me, for 8 freaking gigs? WTF is a gig nowadays, it's nothing. A gig couldn't hold the information contained in my jock. I give away gigs to homeless people on the streets, hey they need something to store the information in their websites to, right?

So why does Panasonic find it necessary to charge 1500 bucks for a 8 gig card?

That's the price of the P2 card that I will be utilizing for the camera that I'm buying this Summer. You see, recording in HD on aP2 card at 1080i translates to about a gig a minute. You heard me, a gig a minute. So at the most on one P2 card I can record up to 8 minutes at 1080i. It is significantly less if I record at 720p or lower, but who wants to do that? I'm hoping this price will lower, as the 4 gig card only costs $500. Either way, this does not factor into the drive that I will need to translate the info (about 2 grand), nor the storage unit, that seems like I will absolutely need to dump info into, and then onto a comp.

The next gen may be here, but it sure as hell costs a lot.

I am the stone that the builder refused...

I was recently asked how I feel about starting a new film, since the last one didn't propel me into the ether that is Hollywood.

I first respond to that question, "Does it make you feel superior to point out the shortcomings of others?" Then I do a swift karate chop to their carotic artery, and they go down faster than a Filipino hooker on a military base.

Then I gather myself, and respond thusly...

So? Who the fuck cares? Godplex had several audiences, and of those people who watched them in the theaters, not one of them hated the film. And that meant more to me than any job, paycheck, or Hollywood status could ever mean. I love movies, I love the fact that I can tell a story, and that I have the ability to envision that story and bring to fruition on the screen. And on the off chance that people would go see the story I made, and enjoy it. Well, there ain't no greater joy for me (other than sex, and possibly having children as people tend to say, whom I have to take their word for at the moment).

Every film festival that Godplex was submitted to pretty much responded the same, with a resounding, "We received a lot of entries this year... yada, yada, yada, you suck." Does this deter me? No. Do I learn from it? Yes.

And so, I sally forth. With a new project in hand. I'm excited, and I'm taking you all with me.

boondocks theme

i am the stone that the builder refused
i am the visual
the inspiration
that made lady sings the blues

i'm the spark that makes your idea bright
the same spark
that lights the dark
so that you can know your left from your right

i am the ballot in your box
the bullet in your gun
that inner glow
that lets you know
to call your brothers son

the story that just begun
the promise of what's to come
and imma remain a soldier
til' the war is won

A little poem I wrote...

I'm being lazy today, cause it's too damn hot, so I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote.

Where is my love?

By:
Americo Alvarenga

Where is my love? Blind, I cannot see,
The walls are dark and eyes are new to me.
First breath harsh, do hear me weep,
For you, I came, and thought I’d keep?

Right here my love. Where you left me,
In this plane I am, for you’re older than me.
Give me time, and I shall be yours,
For all my love, stay true your course.

Where is my love? Long years have passed,
A young face before mine, a beautiful lass.
Is this you who smiles at me with glee?
If so, why go, I came for thee?

Not there my love, though here I am.
The beauty before you, sees what I can.
The heart and soul that you have to share,
Ne'er you worry of her, I’m the one who cares.

Where is my love? I fear you are here.
Hurt I am, is my heart still sincere?
These walls I’ve built, of hurt and pain,
I feel are too strong and will not wane.

Come here my love. Your pain is undone,
You have found me at last, we are now one.
From here on out, we face the world as a pair,
And we shall show them all, that there are still two that care.

Where is my love? Have I lost you at last?
Cared for you more each day, is that all in the past?
I see thine eyes are loving, yet your smile fades,
Have you had your fill, and now you away?

Forgotten my love, of who I really am?
I have fought for your love, did you think it a sham?
Eons will pass, the skies will one day fall,
But my love for you, will outlast them all.

Where is my love? Blind, I cannot see,
The walls are crumbled of age as old as me.
Last breaths harsh, do hear me sadly weep,
For you, I came, I stayed, I had, and thought I’d keep?
Now thy mortal coil, you have shuffled aside,
And I alone and heartbroken, cannot this life abide.
For I had you a lifetime, and for that grateful I will be,
But off to find my love, for that is where I must be.

Right here my love. Where you left me,
In this plane where we began, here in this eternity.
We had our time, and I was always yours,
For all my love, you stayed true your course.
Now passed am I, and so you shall be too,
For to experience life, death, a friend in kind, is due.
But fret not dear heart, for now you know we are the very few of,
Those among those, who need never ask, Where is my true love.

It's Either All Funny, Or It's Not...

I'm not one for drama, and there's been plenty floating around the orbit that I call my fat ass lately. You could almost cry for all the Shakespearean 'doings' a transpiring. Yet, I've decided to take a moment to smile.

I'm on the mindset that you can laugh at everything, or nothing at all. There's nothing that's too sacred to make fun of. Now being cruel is one thing, being an ass to someone who's just lost their folks in a fire by going to the scene of the smoking wreckage with an apron on that says, "We don't need no water, let this motherfucker burn!", may be a bit much. But that doesn't mean you cannot make a house on fire joke ever again for the rest of your life.

One of my nearest and dearest has been acting like an ass lately. And it all culminated the other night by him being a dick. It's sad to say the least, and I've been racking my brains out trying to figure out how to feel about this. My boy's gotta come around, there's no if, ands, or buts about it. And that'll take time. But right now, I was just thinking about the time when it'll be all squashed, and we can make fun of this. Hope it won't take long.

The Stripper Experience

So I couldn't post all week what I've been doing, because my brother reads my blog, and it was pretty much all focused on him. My brother is getting married, and I've spent the last month organizing his bachelor party. And today was our culmination unbeknownst to him. His was thrown aback by what I was able to pull out of my ass, thanks to friends and family. During the day we had a barbecue, and at night, we got into a limo (my first limo experience mind you) and headed to two strip clubs. Now I've never been, but I was sure as hell acting like I was an old pro. The first place we went to was The Hustler Club. The one thing I found interesting was that no matter what cliche is depicted on film, it is well deserved. Every single character that I have ever seen on film in a strip club was there in full force. But mind you, that's not what we were there for.

The girls were beautiful. And nimble. But I've noticed one thing, you've seen one tit, you've more than likely seen the other, and them all. It truly did nothing for me, but my brother enjoyed the hell out of it, both places we went to. I ended up spending $300 in 4 hours. And would have been a lot more, but I got the hook up with some of the things.

Bits of advice for you from this experience.

Get drunk before you go, cause being sober makes for lower enjoyment of grindage.

Drinks cost an arm and a leg, if you're gonna order, order one and nurse it.

Strippers are not gonna fall in love with you, no matter what the look in their eyes say.

That thing that she does to your crotch, she's done that to like 50 guys tonight.


Now it's bed time, must sleep.

Ah to be 8 again...

My little cousin had his 8 year old birthday party. We went to a miniature golf course. We had cardboard pizza, played overly priced games to earn cheap tickets to get crap. We played miniature golf, we hung out, and when he opened his presents, he got $200. WTF? Times change, I barely get $200 on street corners. And I go down.

I asked him what he's going to spend his money on. He said, "Toys!" What a boy.

The toys may change, but man, the sentiments still stay the same.

I plan on buying a new camera for the film I plan to shoot the end of this Summer. My nipples get hard every time I think about it. Of course, it costs $5,000. But it truly is an investment. Though, it's still really hard not to get excited about my new toy.

Ah, to be 29 for another year.

Human observations, a continuing fascination

Everyone's got a story. Not one person can say they don't. Some are sad, some are happy. Some scare you, some make you feel great. Some are unfair, and some, justice gets served. And I write them down.

What people tend not to take notice, is that, when being friends with a writer, you have an unwritten contract with this person. You've just let yourself become molded and recreated in any world he deems fit. Nothing that we don't do on a normal basis, the only difference is, we write it down.

I study the human condition, my biggest past time is observing people. How they interact with each other, how millions of years of evolution have kept them killing (for the most part) each other and basically putting up with one another, and on rare occasions enjoying and missing each other's company. Now, this may not be any great thing for anyone. Everyone might do this. But what makes it weird for me, is when I partake in my own study.

I am after all human. I have the same needs and wants as everyone else (at times more so). So what happens when my involvement in my studies tend to muddle up the crystal clear pristine viewpoint that I usually have? Let's just say it's interesting.

If I fall in love, as with most, my perspective is nonexistant. I have plunged myself into the deep end of the pool. On rare occasions pulling my head above water to get my bearings, but for the most part, delved into, for lack of a better phrase, the sea of love.

I have, as of late, come out of the most loving relationship I have ever been in. I loved her more than any word here could ever merit. Six months have passed, and there wasn't a day that has went by that I don't wish I was there in her arms again. But I was able to take stock, I pulled myself out of that ocean, and when I turned around, it froze over. A thin layer of ice, just thick enough to keep me out. So I went to sit here on the beach again, like I've done so many times before, and watched. It's a lonely observation, one that God would have if I believed in such a thing. But there is serenity, a strange, lonely kind, but one nonetheless. It's hard to figure if I think I'm better or luckier than those I see, or if I'm just jealous. Might be both. I know it might sound condesending, but what can I say, I'm watching you.

Now love, is a strange thing. No one word will ever truly define it. I started to care about someone again, and she me. Talk about a match made in heaven, you would think we were twins, if not for the fact that she looked like a goddess, and I am a Mexican Hobbit. I felt my toes starting to get wet, didn't notice I was creeping into the ocean again. However, I saw the ice in the horizon, and I didn't plunge in this time. I thought to myself, if the tide takes me, let it. But I won't dive in again, not until I know. We both stood at the edge, and I can say, I was more in the water than she was. But I got out, knowing that she wasn't going in. I turned my back on the ocean again. Not forever mind you, just for now. You can never turn your back on the ocean for too long, or the waves will get you.

So here I sit on the beach, in my favorite spot, watching all of you, as some of you do as well. I know the people in the ocean aren't alone, and I know some may drown. I know I'm not the only one on the beach, but I write it down.

And once in a while, I look up from writing, and smile. Cause that ocean calls to me, as it does all of you. And my pen writes underwater.

Comic Books, the new Mythology

I picked up some comics today (yeah I read comic books, I also play video games, and watch cartoons, though it's usually on Adult Swim) and Infinite Crisis #7 was among them. Most of you won't know what that is, but it's a defining issue in the DC Universe. Not to give you the ends and outs of what happened in the book, but it has truly brought back Super Heroes.

Where have they gone you may ask? I thought those geek conventions were out in full force all the time?

Well it's true, the characters have always been there, but it's been ages since they've been Super.

See, comics tend to change with the times, as kids get older, the tight spandex tend to turn into black leather, for a cooler look. We get Wolverine looking more savage than before. We get Spider-Man in an incredibly gay looking costume (though for a limited time only), just to boost the sales of the books. But we've seen little of a team or an individual in a comic standing boldly again, looking out into the ether of the evil out there. Clenching his fist, or taking to the air, or running headlong into it and saying "Not today, not on my watch evil doers."

Comics are our Mythology. They are the Gods on Mount Olympus for our generation. We relate to them, for if they can take on so much, then we few, should be able to stand the ground as well. They are the benchmark for how we see the best in ourselves. Any kid could relate to Batman when it comes to loss. Any kid can feel as isolated as Superman, being the only Kryptonian left. Any kid can feel the freedom of putting a costume on and swing free like Spider-Man, just to get away from the real problems of his normal life.

Super Heroes remind us that the world is not the way it's supposed to be. True, Lex Luthor will always be rich, and he will always get away with the crime. True, The Joker commits the crime with a smile on his face, and not care about who he hurts on the way. So why fight?

Cause they can. More importantly, they want to, and they must. Just like we can, and we must. The greedy will always get to the top faster, and it may seem that you have to be an asshole in this world to make it. But if you can stand up, with honor and righteousness as your badges. That means something. People will notice. And though you may die poor, or the niche that you dig for yourself is small. Remember, those rich assholes die too, but people will remember you, and you are worth more than any of those pricks.

Super Heroes stand again in the DC Universe. It is a great time to be a comic book fan.

- Americo

First Post, make it a good one.

As a guy who refuses to create a MySpace account, I always shied away from blogging. However, thanks to one of my favorite actors (Drew), he's inspired me to create a blog. That and the fact that my Webmaster is taking his sweet time in creating my website, but I figure it'd be easier on him if I did all updates here.

So here it is ladies and gents, my first blog. I guess I must make it memorable and prevalent...

Ever shit so hard it sprays on your balls?

Okay, with that out of the way. I guess I should relate some info of myself. I'm turning 30 this year, sometimes I make movies, on rare occasions they come out. I am currently in the midst of working on 3 projects, one of which I am filming at the end of summer. I love films, I would spend the rest of my life happy making movies.

And that is all I have to say for now. Not that you asked, but I shared anyway. I'll see how often I come back to post.

To quote Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, "Be Excellent, to each other."

- Americo