Hiatus

Sorry for the lag on a new post.  I am taking a much-needed break.

A Letter from Roger to Rush

From http://www.rogerebert.com

To: Rush Limbaugh
From: Roger Ebert

You should be horse-whipped for the insult you have paid to the highest office of our nation.

Having followed President Obama’s suggestion and donated money to the Red Cross for relief in Haiti, I was offended to hear you suggest the President might be a thief capable of stealing money intended for the earthquake victims.

Here is a transcript from your program on Thursday:

Justin of Raleigh, North Carolina: ”Why does Obama say if you want to donate some money, you could go to whitehouse.gov to direct you how to do so? If I wanted to donate to the Red Cross, why do I have to go to the White House page to donate?”

Limbaugh: ”Exactly. Would you trust the money’s gonna go to Haiti?”

Justin: ”No.”

Rush: ”But would you trust that your name’s gonna end up on a mailing list for the Obama people to start asking you for campaign donations for him and other causes?”

Justin: ”Absolutely!”

Limbaugh: ”Absolutely!”

 That’s what was said.

Unlike you and Justin of Raleigh, I went to Obama’s web site, and discovered the link there leads directly to the Red Cross. I can think of a reason why anyone might want to go via the White House. That way they can be absolutely sure they’re clicking on the Red Cross and not a fake site set up to exploit the tragedy.

But let me be sure I have this right. You and Justin agree that Obama might steal money intended for the Red Cross to help the wretched of Haiti.

This conversation came 48 hours after many of us had seen pitiful sights from Port au Prince. Tens of thousands are believed still alive beneath the rubble. You twisted their suffering into an opportunity to demean the character of the President of the United States.

This cannot have been an accident. A day earlier, in a sound bite from your show, you said “this will play right into Obama’s hands. He’s humanitarian, compassionate. They’ll use this to burnish their, shall we say, ‘credibility’ with the black community — in the both light-skinned and dark-skinned black community in this country. It’s made-to-order for them.”

Setting aside your riff on Harry Reid, consider what you imply. Obama will aid Haiti to please African-Americans. Haiti has lost untold thousands of lives. One third of the population has lost its homes. Countless people are still buried in the rubble. Every American president would act quickly to help our neighbor. You are so cynical and heartless as to explain Obama’s action in a way that unpleasantly suggests how your mind works. 

You have a sizable listening audience. You apparently know how to please them. Anybody given a $400 million contract must know what he is doing.

That’s what offends me. You know exactly what you’re doing.

Yep.

You Don’t Deserve It; Canto 1

I’m finding myself getting more and more anxious to publish something (other than the few anthology/magazine publications I have, which I’ve mostly disavowed any public mention of).  The reason is because of how many people in our current world, i.e. in the last few months, that have bombarded me on TV and the internet, saying “Hey, we got published, and we’re not even writers.  Funny that you’re trying so hard to learn the craft.”  I have a few examples, but let me start with something else.

I was recently subbing a kindergarten class, and the normal teacher (a good friend of my mother’s and someone who has been teaching kindergarten since before I myself was in kindergarten), mentioned something about a friend of hers who has been trying to get published her entire life, and has had no luck, despite writing tons of novels and what have you.  This friend is quoted as saying, “It’s all because of those MFA people.  They’re the ones who always get published.”  Now, being one of “those MFA people” myself, I found this comforting to an extent.  This is a statement I’ve been hanging on lately; not obsessively, or taking anything for granted, but just something that brings me encouragement (and a pinch of unfounded confidence) on the off-days.

Now, back to our scheduled programming.

I have three examples of injustice; they come in the forms of people who are getting books published, not because they are writers, but because they did something else and a publisher saw money in a book opportunity.  Do I blame the publishers for trying to cash in?  Certainly not.  Do I think these actions are hurting the writing community and modern perspectives of what it takes to be an “author?”  Yes, I do.

 Number one is the one you all know, which I’ll spend only a tiny bit of time on.  Sarah Palin.  The woman whose superhero-type vision allows her to see Russia through the frosty Republican winds of the Alaskan coast.  I’m going to go out on a limb (I’d say a short limb) and say that, without reading one word of this “best-selling memoir,” that Sarah Palin is not a writer, and if she is, she’s not a very good one.  Shame on you, HarperCollins and News Corporation.  The book is even named Going Rogue, proving once again that Sarah Palin does not know when people are making fun of her ridiculous catch-phrases (when did running for one of the most important offices in this country become a game?  I’m guessing it was somewhere around Ronald Reagan’s inauguration, but I digress).   

I suppose there’s nothing bad we can say about HarperCollins, other than the fact that they have no dignity, for jumping on this opportunity.  I mean, the woman was a media spectacle for an entire year, and even people who hate her will pick this book up (or take a half hour at the library to flip through it).  After all, HarperCollins’ most notable claims to fame are George Michael’s autobiography, Steven Tyler’s autobiography, and Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events.  I’d say give them a break.  But not too much of one.  Throw rocks at their windows, but not hard enough to break them; just enough that they can’t sleep.

My problem with this, besides the obvious, is that it reinforces misconceptions about what a memoir is.  The best example of a relevant memoir I can think of that got some media attention is the amazing Sue William Silverman’s Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You, as well as her subsequent Love Sick, a memoir about sexual addiction, which was made into a TV movie by Lifetime (tip of the hat to Lifetime).  Sue, being a long-time writer, teacher of writing, author of craft books on memoir, and an MFA faculty member, undoubtedly deserves that attention from her book.  But has it been talked about extensively in the media (at least, the media most of us have the most convenient access to)?  I wouldn’t say so.  Who, between the two, is more qualified to be putting out popular books?  Which would have a better effect on letting up-and-coming writers know how a memoir is supposed to look?  Finally, which is more likely to have an immediate widespread effect on people thinking their bullshit views of the world are worth writing 430 pages on?  Guess.  

Check out these reviews of Palin’s book:

“It’s sexist as hell”  -Lisa Richardson, LA Times

“the worst case of pictorial sexism aimed at political character assassination ever done by a traditional media outlet…One giant complaint about the conduct of John McCain’s 2008 presidential campaign.”" -Taylor Marsh, Huffington Post

“part cagey spin job, part earnest autobiography, part payback hit job…its most compelling sections deal not with politics, but with Ms. Palin’s life in Alaska and her family… overscripted, defeatist, disorganized and dunder-headed…” -Michiko Kakutani, New York Times

Fine.  Well-reputed sources.  But let’s not focus on the negative criticism of Palin herself; the most notable element of these reviews (view the full moxy to get even more of a feel for this) is that no one seems to be able to tell if she’s trying to be funny, tell us an honest account of her days in Alaska, or just complain about John McCain (who, by the way, doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment, despite how much I may have disagreed with his campaign).

Another review, from Fox News monkey John Ziegler, states, “this is by far the best book and greatest literary achievement by a political figure in my lifetime.” Really?  Ziegler was born in the 1960’s.  Sarah Palin’s book is better than Winston Churchill’s The Unwritten Alliance?  John F. Kennedy’s Profiles in Courage?  Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things?  Jimmy Carter’s Turning Point?  Barack Obama’s Dreams From My Father?  Jesse Ventura’s Do I Stand Alone? (only halfway joking on the last one:  I’m willing to bet the latter holds more inspirational and introspective words.  Ventura went from being a  flamboyant pro-wrestler and loudmouthed color commentator to being an elected governor who supported the legalization of prostitution, and received  heavy criticisms, some of which, unlike most of Palin’s weren’t deserved.   But I guess you’ll have to judge).  Roy is probably the only one of the above I’d consider a “writer” based on my previous pseudo-definition, but seriously, think about what these other books are about, what they stand for, and what they are compared to Going Rogue.  As soon as the book wins the Nobel, Booker, and Pulitzer prizes, we’ll say something about it being a “literary achievement” (one of those phrases more loosely thrown around than David Paterson blindness jokes).   

What is the effective popular criteria for what warrants a publishable book?  I hate to say it, but it isn’t good writing anymore.  I mean, for most publishers (which are smaller than HarperCollins, Del Rey, Ballantine, what have you), it is, and will always be.  But this sort of “This person isn’t a writer, but they did this other thing, so we should give them a book deal” mentality is digging at me.  Being at VCFA (where even long-time writers like Stephen King are generally frowned at) gives me some faith in the fact that the real writing community isn’t fooled by any of this, but being in a school environment (on the teacher side) as well as experiencing these recent developments is starting to open my eyes a little more, and giving me a sense of urgency.  To do what, and to change what, I can’t imagine, but urgency nonetheless.

I had two other examples, but I’ll save them.   

“Well Mr. Churchill says we got to hold up our chins/We got to show some courage and some discipline/ We got to black up the windows and nail up the doors/And keep right on till the end of the war” -The Kinks

Uncultured swine

I made some joking remarks near the end of summer about how I’d probably get the swine flu as soon as school started, only half-believing this myself because I figured I could get the vaccine and be all set.  Of course, it wasn’t available to me, so I subbed for two weeks and came down with- wait for it – the swine flu.

I’ve had some terrible sick times in my life, the worst being chronic stomach viruses and also a time when I had an ear infection, sinus infection and strep throat at the same time, rendering me unable to even swallow my own saliva.  This illness is definitely far up on the list.  

I had a fever of 103.5 which finally came down, I’ve had terrible headaches, a cough that won’t go away, severe tightening of my chest, back and arm muscles, stomach pains, digestion problems and some awful chills.  Couldn’t even shower until today.  It’s been five days and I can still barely move; I have no energy and I can’t  go outside or look at light.  I spend most of the day staring at the wall or sitting in the dark; no strength to read, write, or even turn on the TV.  At night I get headaches and lay awake, fully-clothed and freezing.  I’ve missed a ton of work.  I’m losing my mind and no one wants to be near me.

I didn’t think I would make it through thursday after seeing how high my fever went and being rendered completely immobile in my family’s living room, unable to do anything but wait.  The sheer loneliness and physical agony of this thing are producing confusing, counteractive emotions in me and I’m so frustrated I can barely stand to be awake.  I feel alone, but I don’t want company.  I break into a coughing fit every few minutes and it’s embarrassing, and talking makes my head hurt.

I feel like the first guy on the Oregon Trail wagon train who catches typhoid within the first ten minutes of starting up the game.  ”Richard has taken a turn for the worse.  Give him a proper burial?”

I know this isn’t the most eloquent entry, and in reality, I will probably get better, but this has been one of the most trying weeks I’ve had in awhile; its been a long time since I’ve spent so much waking life completely by myself.

Feels like I’m coming home to death/ Feels like I’m in a fleshy coffin/ Stuck in this skin, I am trapped in a prison – Crisis 

 

Mouse Capades

A mouse just crept past me on the living room floor.  I watched it wander into a freshly-set trap, which one of my parents placed there just hours earlier, and have its neck snapped.  Never able to fathom what would happen despite the similar fate of so many of its ancestors, never able to understand what was happening as it was struggling to get free.  I know, it’s a rodent.  A pest.  But this time, maybe for the first time, I was rooting for the mouse to make it.

My family’s house has had pest problems this year, and this is one of many occasions of a rodent leading itself to its own execution in the place I grew up, in corners where I’ve played and will soon forget anything happened, but it’s the first time it happened right in front of me.  I only looked up from my computer screen seconds before.  No time to shout out a warning.  No idea what to say.  No doubt my father would give me the most sideways look he’s mustered since the Sox won the series if I told him I actually stopped a mouse from entering a trap.  Of course, I’m being dramatic and getting way ahead of reality.

Mice have been all over my dreams lately.  Scurrying through the footpaths and erupting through ceilings in confused, thousands-strong heaps.

Death has never been normal to me.

“If you sit by the river long enough, the bodies of your enemies will come floating by.”  - Sun Tzu

Oaths, Toys, and Stories

I figure, after how many viruses my series of computers have come down with in the past, it’s about time I take Roger Ebert’s Boulder Pledge, for all of you to see.  So, in memory of my Dells and in celebration of having a Mac, and for the times I’ve opened a virus from a hapless friend and given them a needless tongue-lashing later, and just the general concept of being responsible on the internet, here you go:

Under no circumstances will I ever purchase anything offered to me as the result of an unsolicited e-mail message. Nor will I forward chain letters, petitions, mass mailings, or virus warnings to large numbers of others. This is my contribution to the survival of the online community.

In more subversive and less boring news, I finally busted someone for eating off the bulk granola bar at the supermarket.  It was a glorious moment I wish you could’ve seen.

I’ve opened up a blog about gaming culture, which will have an accompanying video segment (maybe) that a currently-unmentionable team will be working on come November.  The blog itself will have meditations on game/story-related material, polls that I come up with, random thoughts as I have them, stories contributed by me and others, and eventually the video thing.  The address is aheadonourway.wordpress.com (there’s a link in the side navigation).  

I’m working on another special project on and off that I’m pretty excited about, but I don’t want to jinx it just yet.  I’ll wait till it’s more within reach.

I attended the Toy Story double-feature last night with Laura, which was a really nice experience.  Not only do double-features barely exist in our country anymore (and they only exist in our country) in anything but the few drive-in theaters we have left (one of which is quite close to me), but even more rarely presented with old films or with a common theme (other than the most basic genre-typing, i.e. comedy or horror). All-in-all, it was a nice slice of childhood (well, middle-school for me) re-experienced in a time when I can put things into context.  Films were enjoyed, laughs were had, trivia was nailed, and too much candy was eaten.  

I was also interested to read about the impact the original movie had in science and culture: philosophers arguing on whether or not one can go beyond infinity; an action figure of Buzz Lightyear being launched into space on the Discovery Space Shuttle as part of an educational experience for students; a father and son treading water for fifteen hours in the Atlantic Ocean, shouting Buzz’s trademark phrase to keep track of each other, and so on.  Not to mention the sequels, the first of which is one of those rare animated films that gets as much recognition (or more) than its predecessor.  A really good achievement; I’m hoping Toy Story 3 doesn’t disappoint.  Critics are much harsher now.  

I really have nothing to complain about.

“To infinity and beyond!” -Buzz Lightyear

Quests with Mayumi

A fine weekend it’s been.  Mayumi arrived at the train station on Thursday, and the three of us (Mayumi, Laura, myself) spent four glorious workless days gallivanting back and forth over state lines, kayaking;  hot-tubbing; hiking through the woods of Dyken Pond; hanging out at the Bennington Battle Monument (in Vermont); buying tons of candy at Arlington’s Cheese House (although cheese itself was not on our budget list); visiting the aforementioned Grafton Peace Pagoda and Temple on a beautiful pre-Autumn day; watching Coen Brothers movies at Laura’s place in Troy; and eating delicious Italian at Buca di Beppo.  It’s probably been the best weekend of the year, and since Mayumi was in Slovenia for this past summer’s grad residency, I hadn’t seen her since January.  Good times with amazing people.  Not something I get too often anymore, and I’ve missed that sort of closeness you have with a small group of good friends; people you know aren’t going to flake out on you because of distance or “adulthood” (whatever that means anymore).  

Now it’s back to writing, and I’m glad we’re in this together.

“I would like to have another hundred years to write stories. But those aren’t the parameters we’ve been given in human life. Although, just because everybody else who has lived has died doesn’t mean that I have to die. So I’m still holding out some hope.” -T.C. Boyle

Trim the Sails and Roam the Sea

I’ve been spending a little bit of time at the Peace Pagoda in Grafton, NY(ten minutes from me), one of only four (4) Peace Pagodas in the entire United States.  The fact that I’ve always known it was there and never took advantage of it is something I could only accept with laughter now, when I’m young (compared to, I don’t know, my grandparents) and able to put it to good use.  What a fantastic place to be…the wide open land, the gorgeous architecture, the peace and quiet.  I think I am going to spend a lot more time there in the near future.  I’m even considering brushing up on my Japanese for the first time in a few years in consideration of talking to Fujii, the monk who lives in the temple there.  Not that she doesn’t speak English, but just as I’m learning to flow and move and breathe and live within stories, so goes the little independent challenges of life and nature.  Here:

 

In other news, Laura McCoy has turned twenty-three.  Watch out, world.  It’s been a nice week of expensive dinners and exchanging homemade cards, as well as playing the brand new Tales of Monkey Island, which has definitely delivered, thanks to the good people at Telltale Games.  Full of nostalgia, been trying to figure out how to run the old games on a Mac, as well as listening to the hilarious songs from the same.  I’ve even had the time and energy to contribute to the Monkey Island Wiki, with the recent launching of my second packet of the VCFA semester.  A truly wonderful feeling.  

Speaking of which, it’s nice to finally have some time.  I’m planning on hopping back into a vicious workout regimen for as long as I can (P90X, P90X Plus, and running).  This will be a short entry for now, but I’m thinking of doing a full Monkey Island article soon.  I owe it to Ron Gilbert (whose blog, coincidentally, you can find a link to on this page)!

“God always re-gifts the spiritual fruitcake.” – Steven Axelrod

Sehr gut

Answer to last week’s puzzle: “Toothless game vendor scams Richard out of twenty dollars.”

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, it’s been a glorious week for movies, at least in my sometimes-humble view.  The release of Quentin Tarantino’s newest flick, Inglourious Basterds, was last friday, and it’s something I’ve celebrated a bit.  Film is a large part of my life, whether it be because I like to nitpick and appreciate every last grain of my favorite movies of the 1900’s, draw inspiration from the greats like Sergio Leone and Martin Scorsese (who also has a movie coming out in two months), working on writing/directing/acting in my own small films, or just going out to the movie theater and have a great time, an experience that never gets tiresome for me no matter how many times I do it.

Quentin’s films started inspiring me from early on.  The fact that he was working in a video rental store as a lowly clerk with no money when he decided to make Reservoir Dogs is an inspiration in itself.  You know, the whole not-having-to-go-to-film-school thing.  The film came out when I was seven or eight years old (in second grade) so I didn’t see it until later, but this movie really nailed me.  Quentin’s weird nack for almost endless shots, elongated scenes of often brilliantly-written banter, ubiquitous pop-culture references, invented brand-names, colorful and diverse characters, and the genuine feeling of getting a complete, hand-packaged story, really appealed to me.  I was already a long-time writer of fiction (whether it was good at that point or not) but had yet to really dive into the screenplay until I began my studies at UAlbany, and the facets of Quentin’s film -making and screenwriting style helped to get that going for me.  This isn’t to say that I sought to do things exactly like he did, but it was something that served (as previously mentioned) as an inspiration and as a sort of first peg on that big rock-climbing wall that I was starting up on my way to an English/Theatre major, an MFA program, and a ton of independent writing that would/will be submitted to journals, made into films, whatever.

‘Dogs was made with very little money for a Hollywood motion picture, and I would still dare to call it the pinnacle of independent films to this day.  The cars you see in the film belong to the actors.  The now-famous matching suits that the main characters wear were rented from a tailor in LA and returned immediately after shooting was done.  The track jacket Nice Guy Eddie wears throughout the film actually belonged to Chris Penn himself.  Most of the shots were done in one take, as you can tell after seeing it for the umpteen millionth time, and makes everything seem much more natural in the context in which the story is presented.

One of the greatest things about this film’s release, which I often point to as an example of something on the opposite end of the film spectrum, is how notably awful the original trailer was, because no one knew how to advertise/pigeonhole this movie.  It has some shooting and violent things do happen (albeit often off-screen, aside from Tim Roth/Mr. Orange’s non-stop bleeding throughout the entire film), but the majority of the scenes involve a bunch of men talking about things.  The most famous example, and probably the most iconic scene from the film, is the opening, or the “diner scene,” in which eight gangsters in matching suits sit in a diner finishing breakfast, smoking and talking about Madonna, 80’s music, and whether the system of “tipping” in restaurants is right or wrong.  

Here’s a link to the full diner scene and opening; unfortunately I can’t embed it here:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awGkBWTlZPE

Quentin wrote True Romance around the same time and sold the screenplay to Tony Scott, so technically Tony made the movie, but it still has that Quentin-written integrity.  And you know it was well-written when Christopher Walken said that it was the only film he’s ever been in that he did not improvise any of his dialogue.  But of course, being a Tony film, it was pitched as a Tony film.  Here’s the 90’s trailer:

I suppose it was with Pulp Fiction that Quentin really stepped up and “made it big” or what have you, making a movie with the most “Hollywood” cast he’d done so far.  This is still considered by most to be his greatest movie, and I’m not sure I can argue, as much as ‘Dogs might still be my favorite.

I could go on and on, which I’m sure I already have, so I won’t get into My Best Friend’s Birthday, Jackie Brown, The Man From Hollywood, From Dusk Till Dawn, Kill Bill and Death Proof, but here’s where the trailer thing comes full circle.  In 1992, Reservoir Dogs got some weird patched-together trailer, and True Romance was “a film by Tony Scott” wherein the writer was never mentioned (note that the writer is not normally mentioned in a film trailer, and sometimes neither is the director if they’re not famous enough, as funnily enough, the Academy considers the PRODUCER the maker of the film, but here’s where I make my point), and now’s it’s a big deal when he does pretty much anything.  So here’s the trailer for Basterds if you haven’t been watching TV lately:

In the theater, when I saw this film, about a third of the way through, a woman behind me says to her friend, “Is any of this true?”  One thing I worry about concerning this movie is the average idiot who wasn’t paying attention in school, or if they’re younger, haven’t studied World War II yet, and will soon be submitting a paper talking about Hitler’s life, citing this movie as its main source.  Don’t be fooled; it’s not a movie about World War II.  It’s a Quentin Tarantino film that takes place during World War II, just as this is a Richard Hartshorn blog that takes place during the time this movie came out.  I can end it however I want.  I’ll let you mull over that one.

On a side note, although I don’t go often, I am proud to live in an area that has a drive-in movie theater, as there are only a few left.  And, as I’m sure everyone knows, they’re an American thing.  When Grindhouse was released in Europe, they asked why the hell we’d want to have two movies shown back to back for the price of one (and, in fact, they showed the films separately, which compromised the entire experience).  Don’t you miss things like, “time out for a delicious snack in our sparkling refreshment building”?  And, check out the wikipedia article about drive-ins: we’re on there!  The article includes a shot from our local drive-in, “Hollywood Drive-In,” in Averill Park, which is about fifteen minutes from my house. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drive-in_movie#Decline

I am currently trying to put together a few movie projects, but when it comes time to sit down in front of my computer, I’ve lately only been able to focus on VCFA work, so for now, it’s on the backburner.  I’m hoping to be able to make something good happen in the near future.

I don’t even have a quote this time.  If you want something better-written and far more intuitive, check out the last post, “Get three coffins ready.”

Get Three Coffins Ready

-From Sergio Leone’s A Fistful of Dollars, starring Clint Eastwood as “The Man With No Name,” 1964

So, this past week has been somewhat eventful, not to mention the Africa-like heat we’ve been having all of a sudden.  On a side note, I find it somewhat interesting that in separate writing workshops, I’ve been taught by various people to never use “all of a sudden” in a work of fiction (as it’s a Deus ex Machina and is also not dynamic or engaging to read) and also, more strangely (and incorrectly, I might add) that you cannot “find” something, i.e. in the sense that I just used it above.  Can it be, then, that we as human beings can never FIND within ourselves the drive to live the life of a writer, an athlete or a martial artist?  Can it be true that when I say I FIND this interesting, I am telling you a bold-faced fib?  Do you FIND it hard to believe that I FOUND something interesting?  Come on now.  Really?  I was completely enraged by that comment as it was given by a workshop instructor in regards to some fiction I wrote (which wasn’t, admittedly, my best work nor anyone else’s, but was written with entirely proper grammar, which is more than I can say for most of the students accompanying me).  Instead of continuing on with the twenty-five or so minute session we all agreed to dedicate to each student’s work, this multi-occasion published author decided to use my time to bring down the hammer of 1337 on me and waste what could have been a perfectly productive workshop.

Are we really going to nitpick about perfectly normal, household expressions?  Is there anyone reading this, that when I said, “I find it interesting,” didn’t know what I meant, or found (doyouseewhatIdidthere) their maw hanging agape with confusion?

This brings me to something I decided to include in my first letter to Robert Vivian this semester.  I told him, in my first paragraph, that I was trying to learn to be a better writer by teaching myself to become more “craft-oriented.”  That was to say, “I’m trying to learn all sorts of techniques from the best writers I know about.”  This wasn’t to say that I would plow through any droll of a novel or story collection as long as it was technically sound, but the point is, this statement wasn’t fully thought and “crafted,” so to speak, on my part.  It’s like one of those conversations you have with a friend where they say something vague, and you sort of laugh, and your friend says, “Well, I know what I mean.”  

So, yes, I know what I mean, but that wasn’t enough for Bob-O, and I have never been more grateful that something I did or said wasn’t enough for someone.  In his six-or-seven page single-spaced letter, he included gobs of personal material, a good two-and-a-half pages of which was ignited by this statement of mine.  He invited (not challenged, he made clear) me to share with him my idea of what it means to be “craft-oriented,” and I sat there with my proverbial maw hanging agape, just like I hope you didn’t do at my “find” statement. 

Robert talks about craft as “Apprenticeship to an art form and living the life of a writer,”  and the sense of apprenticeship as “disciplined habit of art that looks at writing as a way of life, going into one’s room each day to be present to the creative process,” adding later that if ever one reaches a point in engaging with craft that feels stifling or ultimate, i.e. “it must be this way or it is wrong,” to “run for the proverbial hills and go back to what you love about writing– or, as Chekhov writes in one of his stories, ‘What lasts is what you start with’.”  And possibly the most profound statement comes in twelve concrete words: “It’s more important to live writing than it is to discuss it.”  A truism, I think, with any real discipline that requires skill and technical soundness but also an unrelenting passion.

So, what do I need three coffins for (Yes, I know Clint ended up needing four, but work with me here)?

 One. The fear of not being “good” that goes with the writing preparation process at VCFA or any other big thing, really, such as a reading or any old workshop or teaching gig.  That fear that I need to not only be as technically sound as, say, Doug Glover, but also possess that gift for conveying ideas.  Consider it buried.  Oh, I’m still, as Willem Dafoe’s piano teacher said in Once Upon a Time in Mexico, “practicing like a motherfucker,” but Robert’s statements have turned some of my ideas about craft on their head, and in all the best ways.  Working harder to understand, but also living the material, both read and written, at the same time.  Because, to paraphrase something else he told me, you can practice casting a fishing line on land for years, but once you actually go fishing, it will still essentially be as mysterious as before all your practical knowledge of it.

Two.  Absence of performance.  I was lucky enough to be able to, as I mentioned last time, attend “Summer of Love” and perform a short, impromptu set of Flight of the Conchords covers with my cousin Andrew– “Think About It,” “Leggy Blonde,” “The Humans are Dead,” and “The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room.”  That sort of got me thinking.  Isn’t this whole teaching thing kind of like performing?  For me, being a substitute, doing the daily bidding of a Shadow Premiere (i.e. they’re giving me orders when they’re not even there, and I can get canned for not following them exactly), it is.  In most cases, especially with middle school and lower high school level students, I often have to get up there and pretend to be much more stern than I really am.  In all cases, I have to dress better than I really do (although I still maintain that no clothing item ever made has actually fit me properly).  I have to sometimes teach things I don’t know.  For example, much of the middle school math I have to teach wasn’t even around seven or eight years ago (not that the concepts didn’t exist but not, leastways, in the school I’m teaching at, in the grades I’m teaching).  And so on and so forth.  But I’ll be back in character again soon, because the school year is starting for the brats, and I’ll be there to fight the good fight.  More amazing experiences?  Definitely on the way.  More run-ins with rude, overweight building/grounds people?  We can only hope.  

Three.  I can only set this one up by saying that Laura and I went to the Altamont Fair last week, and I began the evening with $40 in my pocket, with one goal: win a stuffed animal for my girlfriend.  I’m sure you know, as I do, the kind of rubbish and scams certain vendors run at fairs, but I hadn’t ever encountered the reverse one before: not the traditional “Give me money and play an un-winnable game,” but the “give me money and win every time, then play for the bigger prize because you’ll win every time.”

I won’t tell you the result of this showdown flat out.  I’ll play a little game with you, akin to the final round of Wheel of Fortune, in which you get the category and the letters RSTLNE.  The category is: “Newspaper Headline,” and it relates to the above anecdote.  Let me know if you can solve the puzzle.  Answer in next Monday’s blog.

T**t*less  ***e  *en**r  s***s  R****r*  **t  **  t*ent*   **ll*rs  

I wish I could say he was later found dead, but if you’ve been following the theme of this entry, you know that these coffins are too big for people.

There is no bathroom!

I’m not sure if I mentioned it before (because I’m too laz…er, busy, to read my  blog posts from a week or more ago) but I got a brand new computer and subsequently had my car fixed, and also got my car insurance bill in the mail today.  So, I’ve got quite a bit to pay for and am waiting to hear back from a job I applied for.  No names will be used yet; you should know how I do things by now.

I had a most excellent family weekend these past few days, something I haven’t really felt all summer so far due to being fairly overwhelmed.  I went down to Greenwich to my uncle Philip’s annual “Summer of Love” music festival/picnic he puts on every year with best friend Dennis O’Brien, and had some good ol’ times with cousins Andrew and Christopher and many others.  Due to peer pressure, I also ended up performing a few Flight of the Conchords covers with Andrew, something we’ve only ever done alone or in front of drunk friends who aren’t paying attention, and it was the first time we’ve ever done it into microphones.  It got a pretty nice reception for what it was, especially considering we hadn’t practiced in over a year.  A great day/night, and good food was had by all, as well as the annual driving home on the darkest Sleepy-Hollow-type roads on planet Earth.

Sunday was the Run For the Roses, one of the hardest road footraces in our area, and I ended up finishing with a modest time (better than last year’s, which was nice).  Laura ended up with first place out of the women, and got a cool-looking medal (which is inexplicably stuffed in my shoe at the moment), as well as a nice bouquet of roses (saying something, since due to Seagroatt’s, an ancient flower business in Berlin that’s been running since generations before I have, going out of business, no one but the two first-placers received roses this year).  Nice job!

My first packet of the semester has been sent out and is on its way back with Bob Vivian’s thoughts scribbled on it, something I’m pretty excited about, considering I had doubts as to whether I’d even finish the thing.  The critical thesis, however, is really daunting right now (in fact, I’m putting it off to write this entry, so if it’s wearing a little thin, that’s because I’m piling it on for that very reason).  

Just kidding.  Maybe using it as a writing warm-up.  But, for responsibility’s sake, I should go do that now.  Anything else important?  Hmm.  I’m compiling a chronicle of Deli-related material for some terrible essays, and a list of my favorite RPG’s that I’m sure no one will read other than Ben, and I also need anyone who wants to get paid for working out to join me as a Team Beachbody Coach by clicking here.  That should do it.  And watch Dead Man and Broken Trail if you’re a fan of revisionist Westerns and damn good acting and directing. 

That’ll do.

“What name were you given at birth, stupid white man?” – Gary Farmer

“There are people who believe Barack Obama was not born in the United States.  These are the same people who wonder where the sun goes at night.” -Bill Maher

“Make do with what you have/take what you can get/pay no mind to us/we’re just a minor threat” -Minor Threat

The Stampede and the River

Hallo.  There’s been quite a bit going on on my end lately.  I suppose foremost is what will henceforth be known as the “Incident,” in which my hard drive crashed and I lost most of my writing, including all the new material I had written for my first packet with Robert Vivian.  It was followed by extraneous lamenting, and then I finally went out and blew some money on a Mac.  With Time Machine and my external hard drive, I’m thinking I won’t have too much trouble keeping my files backed up, although I usually do find a way to make any perfect situation into a shit sandwich, so we’ll see.

Today I went on a pretty cool trip to the Battenkill River (VT) with my dad, brother, Frank V, Frank M, and Sam, and hung out at Battenkill Canoe for awhile before going down the river in kayaks.  The river was quite high due to the rain last night; I’d never been on water moving that fast before.  It was also at the last minute that the inner pop-culture geek in me realized that among the six of us, I was the only one wearing a red shirt…uh-oh.  So, while this dawns on me, the younger members of our party and I are standing in a circle around the staff guy, who practically reeks of granola, explaining to us the dangers of the river, such as “strainers” (bent or fallen trees in the river that cause a vacuum effect in the water, i.e. the worst place you’d want to tip over) and what to do to escape them, what to do if you hit a big rock (lean in toward it…who woulda thunk) and what to do if you get trapped underwater (I zoned out but I assume it was “die”).  Despite this humorous situation and the thought that I would be the first to go while Captain Kirk and the others sped smoothly downriver, I was, surprisingly enough, not the one who flipped over.  Frank (1) and I decided to take a different path from the others at one point, so it was four of them trekking through a very narrow area surrounded by trees and ferns, probably something like a six-foot gap, and apparently there was a pile-up in which Frank (2) went under.  Frank (1) and I waited about ten minutes (during which he took a brief “shore leave” on someone’s property) and finally the rest of the group came back to tell us the story.  All in all, a good experience, and I’m glad to say I got through it with some success.  No pictures, unfortunately, but you can see why our hands may have been full.

Afterwards, we went out to lunch at Chauncey’s– good food despite only having one waitress (or server, in the parlance of our times) helping the entire room.  We also went to the Cheese House, one of my favorite Bennington area spots, and bought enough candy to last the ride home.  

Before I forget, The Master List (my ramble about video games, which can be found in the side navigation) has been updated, if anyone cares.

Thanks to Steph, I was able to get on the guest list for Bakerloo Theatre Project’s tenth season over the past week, seeing some really innovative and well-performed adaptations of Hamlet: What Dreams May Come and Much Ado About Nothing.   Yet another thing I’m glad for; it provided some much-needed inspiration to get back into the writing, and just as importantly, further opened my eyes to the fact that my life in Theatre didn’t end when I got a B.A. from UAlbany.  Now, where to start…

I leave that question to you.

“He who knows does not speak.  He who speaks does not know.”  -Lao Tzu

“To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.” -Dogberry, Much Ado About Nothing, Act III scene III

Them that die will be the lucky ones

Ten days went by pretty fast.  There were many meetings, and inevitably, many partings.  I can’t even try to explain what happens at the residency; it never works when I try.  I’ll just say it was an extremely intimate and productive experience.  I participated in the best workshop I’ve ever been in, became close with one of my favorite writers, Doug Glover, and I’m now in my third semester, and working with Robert Vivian (author of the novel, The Mover of Bones and about a million brilliant essays) on my critical thesis and new fiction.  I’ve got a lot to do.

Other than that, life is okay.  Working on some small film stuff, writing and reading myself raw, and so on.  I’ll have something longer and more involved up here soon; I just wanted to let everyone know I’m still alive.  Just a little busy for the time being, but I’ll be trying to update.

Also, the domain name is gone, so Richard Lives can now be found at richthestampede.wordpress.com, so if you type in richardlives.com, you’ll be sad.

Until next time, Bruce Willis is dead, Rosebud is a sled, and Soylent Green is people.  Goodnight!

“Martone has no intentional or professional tattoos or piercings, though the back and palm of his right hand will often be scribbled with words and numbers, the result of a habit acquired when he wore a cast in high school.  There are a few instances where the ink or pencil lead has gotten under the skin, resisting all his attempts at removal, leaving behind fragments of initials, icons, one half of a heart, and something that might well be an exclamation mark, a semicolon, or a simple smeared period.” – Michael Martone

I got Noplace else ta go

The end of my first year of substitute teaching has come.  It’s been a fantastic school year full of laughs, meetings, new friendships, some actual teaching, and a whole lot of getting kids to not kill each other on my watch.  Today, I went down at the end of the school day to see off some retiring teachers and favorite students (did I say “favorite?”  oops), the former of which, some of whom actually taught me when I was in middle-school.  Such a strange place to be in now, and what a journey every single life is.  Now I’m here, watching some end, and trying to begin my own, while in actuality, mine has been going on for 24 years or so, and I’m just now trying to find some sense of Frodo-esque purpose in it.

In good news, I’ve been given permission by the Vermont College of Fine Arts to do a docu/mocku/mentary on the MFA in Writing program.  Finally, the first film project since “SLICES” that I’m actually going to be obligated to finish!  I’m starting to figure it out: deadlines and threats of being a laughing-stock are the only way I get things done.  Anyway, this project is going to be starting immediately and will go through this coming residency (June 28-July9), and the final photography/editing process will begin when I get home.  As this project will seek to be informative, it will also have a story arc throughout (a la Spinal Tap, Pure Pwnage or my brother’s Health mockumentary, “One Solution”), which will involve characters.  So if you are an actor and/or VCFA student who would like to be involved, please get in touch with me.  Like, right this second.  Email me before you even finish reading this so you don’t forget.

In addition (what?  I’m doing something else?) I have been obsessively playing Ben “Yahtzee” Croshaw’s adventure game series, as well as his other games made with AGS (Adventure Game Studio) for free online, and after sending him 5 bucks via Paypal in appreciation for his hard work on the games and his blockbuster weekly game review series, Zero Punctuation, I decided to dig up my old game, created with Playstation’s RPG Maker, back in 2004-2005.  Entitled “The First Saga,” this game took me months and months of one-button dialog creation, program-learning and game manipulation to finish.  It’s pretty much the only thing I’ve ever “written” that I look back on now, 4 and 5 years later, and still think is good.  Long story short (too late), I realized that several hundred people who also used this program have created a community to share their games, and I am going to get mine on the internet for everyone with a Playstation to download and play.  It will be a week or two before the game is up, but it will be really cool, and I might even do some new ones/sequels for those who care.   The new version of TFS will include the complete strategy guide/walkthrough and new concept artwork done by my brother.  I might even sneak some of my own in there if it doesn’t suck too much.  F Collins College, man, I’m doing this thing the old way.

Other than that, trying to get this Beachbody Coach thing going (shameless plug, but please help me out) and also checked out my Uncle Chris (The Chris Busone Band) playing in Troy last week for the pre-Flag Day celebration.   He’s getting pretty big in the area, and he put on a really good set of new material and covers.  A good time had by all.

Here are my new Beachbody links for those who would like to be a part of this awesome opportunity; please share them with anyone who might be interested:

Be a Coach- www.tinyurl.com/richcoach

Join Team Beachbody for free: www.tinyurl.com/richtb

Shop excellent programs and products- www.tinyurl.com/richshop

My TB front page: www.beachbodycoach.com/nerfherderxx

Thanks.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m walkin’ here.

“Turns out there are still 135,000 troops in Iraq, which I don’t understand because we’ve already won the war. And we’ve won it so many times. We should win something for the number of times we’ve won it. We eliminated the weapons of mass destruction by having them not exist. We took out Saddam Hussein—or a really convincing and committed Saddam Hussein double. We helped write the Iraqi Constitution and clearly gave Iraqis the right to bear a lot of arms. And by August of next year we’ll withdraw every single one of our troops, leaving behind only memories and 50,000 troops.” – Stephen Colbert

“These fuckers repeat themselves more often than an amnesiac in an ear hospital.” – Ben ‘Yahtzee” Croshaw

Smash or be smashed

As of May thirty-first, two-thousand nine, my top five favorite pieces of short fiction are as follows:

1. Douglas Glover- “Chuck Waunch is Dead”
2. Ring Lardner- “Haircut”
3. William Faulkner- “The Bear”
4. Ian Fleming- “Quantum of Solace”
5. Douglas Glover- “Fire Drill”

(#4 is not to be confused with the film of the same name)

Now, as a writer, and an avid reader, especially during my time in the VCFA program, the above is an ever-changing list that will inevitably change drastically, if not completely, in the next six months, as I go into my third semester. The bigger point I want to make here is that, taking a look at the list, one could deduce that perhaps Douglas Glover is one of my favorite writers, or at least someone whose craft I highly respect and/or enjoy, and as his works fill two out of five of my A-list of short stories, one would also assume he’s a man whose opinion I would hold to some high degree. That said, guess who my workshop leader is going to be for this coming residency? Douglas Glover.
Am I excited? Sure. I mean, who wouldn’t want one of their favorites in a certain field to see their work and help them make it better? Would you want Nolan Ryan helping you with your pitching skills? Maybe. Would you want Martin Scorsese watching your indy film in a private screening, with an entire hour to give you feedback on it? Certainly. This is pretty close to the same thing for me. My problem is that I am never confident enough about the work I submit to the “bluebook” for workshops, and I often find little things I forgot to add (this time is no exception!) Or just little pieces of text I wish I had deleted, that I’d be embarrassed to have people read, and so on. I think this probably stems from the fact that I read over my piece about a hundred times before I actually get to workshop due to the fact that the bluebook comes in the mail about a month before the residency. So it becomes sort of like that repeated process that leads to the opposite result, i.e. saying a word so many times that it completely loses meaning, or looking in the mirror and doing your hair so many different ways that nothing looks good.
Aside from that, there are the stories I’ve heard about Doug. How harsh of a reviewer he is, how as an advisor he makes people cry and/or crushes them to the point that they won’t even tell their peers about the experience. Throwing manuscripts on the ground and stomping on them, taking hundred-page thesis packets and throwing them in the garbage, etcetera.
So, this is knuckle-up time. I’ve had the wonderful experience of being a wallflower in the first residency’s workshop, and then, when the excitement of getting a clean start came for second residency, had the pleasure of having another student explain to the entire workshop on the first day that I am quiet and don’t say anything during the workshop, so they’d better put me on the spot as often as possible. What? In the parlance of our times, fuck you.
Anyway, this is another opportunity for tabula rasa. This workshop has a few people I’m friends with in it, which motivates me a little, and I am planning on knowing the entire bluebook in and out before I get there, so I can make a presence and not get more of the above comments. Needless to say, if I’ve ever had something to prove in a fiction workshop, this is the time. It’s an epic battle, and I’m riding Shadowfax all the way to Montpelier! …..was that too melodramatic? I guess I should read this over a hundred more times and figure out how to make it better….

Speaking of amazing literature and art, here’s one of the greatest scenes from Tom Stoppard’s movie adaptation of his own play, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. Gary Oldman and Tim Roth play the title characters, and this takes place in the castle’s game room just after the duo meet the main characters from Shakespeare’s play. For theatre lovers or people who enjoy witty dialogue, I’ll let this speak for itself.

Rosencrantz is the man who sees everything and understands nothing. Making these “discoveries” in the game room, he believes he will simply be able to do it or make it work, as though he invented juggling and came up with the theory that two objects will fall at the same rate when dropped from the same height. But for anyone that has taken eighth grade science, we know that the feather is the one exception to the rule. Guildenstern, on the other hand, seems to be so wrapped up in his own head that he thinks he understands everything. And the game of questions…priceless.

Today has been a battle. Closest I’ve ever come to telling off a fellow employee at a school, in front of students. Granted, I’ve told other teachers/TAs to lay off a student, albeit politely, but this was one-on-one for a minute.

Before I get to the best part, my day began by going into the office and asking for the key I would need in order to constantly unlock the gym teacher’s office, locker room and the armory that holds the equipment. The office didn’t have it, and they gave me a teacher to go hunt down who would randomly have it for whatever reason. Okay, fine. I expect her to give it to me peacefully, because she is not supposed to have it. Right? Wait.

I get to her room, and it’s an old teacher who has been teaching since I was in elementary school, and is now retired and substituting. I say, “Mrs. — asked me to come get the key, she said you would have it. I will need it because I’m subbing for Mr. — in the gym today.” She gives me a very skeptical look and tells me, “Well, are you sure you need it? I mean, what if I leave this room. Some of the students…I don’t know.” Mind you, she’s in the math room, subbing for a friend of mine who keeps absolutely nothing in her room. Plus, she wouldn’t have to leave for most of the day if she’s that worried about it, whereas A) I would be unlocking multiple things at the beginning and end of every period. B) The office TOLD me to come get it from her. Jesus. So, after much explaining and convincing, she gives it to me.

So, my first two periods were playing softball with high-schoolers and running around cleaning up their equipment because apparently their normal teachers encourage them to leave their shit all over the place and not take responsibility. So, naturally, I was thirsty, and realized I had left my water bottle in my car during my haste to get inside and set everything up for my first class. These days, as you may imagine, schools keep their doors locked all the time and have someone sitting near it if a person needs to get in. I explained to that person that I was going to run outside to my car, she said it was fine, whatever. So I run out and grab my water, I come back, and that person is gone. Students are not allowed to open the door for people, so I watch them all staring at me and passing by like fish in an aquarium, and I stand out there like a complete dick until a rather large guy reluctantly opens the door. This is how our conversation went.

Me: Thank you.

Fat Guy: You’re welcome. Are you a student here?”

Me: No. I work here.

Fat guy: Are you a parent?

Me: No. I work here.

Fat guy: Oh. Uhh… (looks around for help)

Me: I’m a substitute. I’m working in the gym today. I just ran out to my car to get water.

Fat guy: Do you have a pass?

Me: I work here. Literally ten seconds ago, I ran out to get water from my car.

(person from before comes back)

Me: (to person from before) Did I not just run outside ten seconds ago to get some water?

Person: (blank expression)

(Students are now staring at us)

Fat guy: He says he works here.

Person: He works here.

Fat guy: How do you know it? You’re supposed to have a pass. How do you know it if he doesn’t have a pass?

Me: Because I’m here every day. I’m going back to the gym. You two can stay and argue.

Person: I’ve seen him here before.

Fat guy: Oh. Well, that’s good. That’s really good. (Walks away)

I could have just as easily asked Fat guy who HE is, exactly, and that I’ve been involved in some way with this school longer than he has, but whatever. What is this? A fucking no reentry show at Saratoga Winners (RIP)? Give me a break. The funny thing is, this happened immediately after having a conversation with a maintenance woman whose son I graduated with, who told me very directly, “You’re becoming very popular in this school.” Apparently not with the old fogies and random fat guy. At least the students love me.

The moral of the story: Keeping quiet gets you nowhere, and I learned it the hard way after twelve years of attending this school as a student. No way I’m taking garbage from everyone now that I work here, just because I’m younger and don’t walk with the demeanor of someone who has let their life turn to shit. Why not ask the students who they would rather have here, me or you?

Smash or be smashed.

“Corrupt politicians, corrupt enforcement, drug lords and dealers, all must fall/ the helpless are crying out, we have risen to their call/ A firestorm to purify” – Earth Crisis

“I’m not into politics, I’m into survival.” – Arnold Schwarzenegger

Richard! I’m Finished!

I am experiencing writer’s block during the closing weeks of this semester, which is why I am writing this entry right now. Here’s another interesting homegrown video: My brother and Juan Carlos’ first ever tricking video, edited by broseph himself.

I might actually get around to making something myself in the near future, if I ever get editing equipment (i.e. if I ever get money, free time and patience).

I guess since I’m having writing problems, I should talk them out and share them here. I have, in the past, been criticized for putting a novel’s worth of story/information into a fifteen-page short story. I’ve gotten a lot better with it this semester, really cranking out a few decent stories and getting on a bit of a roll, but I’m at that sort of crossroads again where I have a number of unfinished things that I want to A) finish or B) incorporate into something else. I’m not really sure what the best course of action is. I don’t want to submit something already written in its “old” form and have it turn out to be complete schlock/not learn anything, but I also don’t want to spoil a fresh story with over-complicated material and have it end up being heavy-handed, over-written brain-junk, when it was probably a good idea to just keep it buried in the bowels of my hard drive.

So I don’t know. I’ve got this new character and a load of stories this character could be in…and a story in my head longer than the allotted. So, do I write something and say “this is the beginning of something” and risk my usual pitfall? That pitfall being the other side of the above issue: setting out to write a novella/novel-length piece, and getting sick of it fifty pages in, thus having something too incomplete to be a novella and too long/complicated to be a short story, and hang it on the wall next to My Best Friend’s Birthday. I don’t know. Any help here would rock, because I only have until June 5th to pump this thing out.

Subbing has been decent lately. I got to sub my second-favorite class again, the fifth graders, where I have made a lot of buddies and I daresay have made a bit of a difference on the days I’ve been there. Plus, while in the elementary building, I get to visit my favorite kindergarten class and hang out with them during playtime and lunch, which is always a pleasure. You know, talking to them about cars, stopping them from fighting over Legos, and listening to cries of “Richard, come play with me!” and “Richard! I’m finished!” when a monument built of the same blocks I played with in kindergarten has been raised in my honor. Then they knock it down.

In fitness news, this opportunity with Team Beachbody is starting to show some buds (if not fruit just yet) and I’m finding myself more motivated to achieve my own goals. Next on the list: drastically change eating habits. Mind you, I’ve been eating a lot better lately, but I live in a high-carb household and I’m not the most responsible when it comes to dessert-type stuff. And as Tony says, “fitness won’t solve your problems. Changing your food addictions will.” I don’t know, we’ll see.

Again, if you want to get involved in this opportunity; that is, helping people be healthy and getting paid for it while achieving your own goals, here you go.

Time to go see my third spring blockbuster in the past two weeks, then heading to CT for Memorial Day weekend…no concession stand for me!

“The man who is really serious, with the urge to find out what truth is, has no style at all. He lives only in what is.” -Bruce Lee

“His power level is over nine thousaaaaaaand!” -Vegeta (Dragonball Z)

Put the Lyme in the Coconut

I’d like to begin with an actual conversation I witnessed upon going into work yesterday morning. Two guys I have never seen before are sitting in the break room, watching television. On the screen, Arnold Schwarzenegger stands at a podium, giving a speech to his people. The conversation goes something like this:

Man 1: Arnold Schwarzenegger? What is he, like, governor now?

Man 2: Yeah.

Man 1: (snarky laugh) How long do you think THAT will last?

Man 2: Um. He’s been doing it 8 years.

Man 1: Oh. Well…they should make another Terminator.

I guess I will just stop there, since that was about all I could take, too. I am now fairly sure that my Kindergarteners are more qualified than a good amount of the folks in their late thirties who work at the *other* place. This was one of those sort of fun, “Wow, I can’t wait to post that on a blog” moments that you don’t get all too often in this beautiful, commingled universe of ours.

Speaking of “Man #1,” the LOST Season 5 finale is tonight, and my theory about Mark Pellegrino being in the show still stands. I’ve updated the theories section with some new, hopefully-well-pointed babble and a new Top 5 list.

While we’re on the subject of J.J. Abrams projects, good old Jeffrey Jacob has once again done something I never thought he could pull off. He started on the extreme side, creating a seemingly simple drama show about people crashing on a deserted Island, then by the end of the pilot episode, there was an invisible Monster in the woods and a French transmission repeating “It killed them, they’re all dead” repeating on a loop for sixteen years. Obviously that show became “LOST,” which took off and still defeats all other TV shows to this day. Then, JJ went off to the silver screen, and came up with “Cloverfield,” a supposed new twist on the traditional monster movie, filmed with a hand-held camera, meant to be a sort of “reality” type thing. How many people thought this movie would tank? I’m sure not everyone loved it, obviously, but it nonetheless innovated the genre, was a box office success, and generated a ton of viral campaigns and fandom, many of which still connect to Abrams projects today (i.e. “Slusho” drink product and t-shirts). I guess I have to admit now, that although he always satisfies me in the end, I always have some sort of doubt (such doubts!) when I hear about his new projects. The most recent was Star Trek, a new take on the original (better) series, with Kirk and Spock and so on. I thought to myself, “Jeffrey, what are you doing this time? You’ve gone too far.” But I have to say upon seeing the film, I was highly satisfied, hence the new film of the week. It is a new story, but keeps the atmosphere and spirit of the old TV show, not to mention it being better than many of the old films, acting and drama-wise. The new actors, especially Karl Urban as Bones McCoy, really capture the spirit of the old characters and actors, whilst making it their own unique thing, and it’s really something to see. Leonard Nimoy even makes an appearance, in what will likely be his last role as his signature character of Spock, which is a wonderful thing to see. All in all, I am proud of the way JJ handled this task, and I look forward to doubting him again in the future. “The Dark Tower,” anyone?……anyone?

As some know, I am now a fitness Coach for Team Beachbody, the good people who released, among many other great products, the extreme P90X Training System, which I have used for over a year now, and which has gotten me (with plenty of hard work and dedication) into the best shape I’ve ever been in, and continues to allow me to grow in all areas of fitness. Basically, my job with Team Beachbody includes, amongst a few different things, getting people started on fantastic programs like this, as well as busting up myths about exercise and dieting that so many people are falling for, and spreading knowledge that people are unaware of. Things on TV like the “ab circle pro” which I refuse to capitalize, that tell you that you can get washboard abs with three (3) minutes of exercise a day, spinning back and forth on this stupid little machine. What? They also insinuate that the only way to get in shape is with a machine of some kind, i.e. weird things at the gym and these ab-rocker things that are easy on your lower back. It’s important to protect your back, yes, but if you’re not feeling a stiffness in your back, you’re not working on your abs! All of your muscle groups and connected and every part of your body is linked; you’re not going to get results by doing one thing every day, and your arms, for example, are not going to get toned if you’re doing an ab machine. What are people thinking? Anyway, check this out if interested. A video about P90X (and yes, I will be promoting things through this blog now and then, both because I need the exposure for my Coach business to be successful, and because they are great programs that I use and believe in, and that I know will work for you if you take on the challenge). One of my faves for P90X:

If you would like to join Team Beachbody with me as your Coach and order P90X, or let me recommend you another program, a supplement, or even just fitness gear that you would use anyway, use these links:

Join Team Beachbody with me as your Coach- get access to the store, log your workouts, connect with other people using Beachbody products, and be entered every day into the Million Dollar Body Game. Whatever your fitness level is, you can win $300 every day just for logging your workouts on Team Beachbody.

My Beachbody store- get started on great programs, order supplements, fitness gear and more.

My Beachbody Website Front- Look at programs I use, read my personal story, and get ready to do the same.

Become a Coach- Help people get fit and stay healthy, learn about the Beachbody Revolution, and make money for working out.

Anyone checking out this stuff, joining, talking to me about it, whatever, would be a great help for me, as I am just getting started with this thing (and have already gotten someone stared on P90X and someone else on a supplement program). Thanks in advance to anyone who takes a look, and to anyone who wants to use TB to get in shape, I would like to help.

So, moving on. I know you’re wondering what the title meant, so here goes. I went on a little walk through the Pine Bush the other day (see where this is going?) and later that night, I was asked, “What’s that black dot on your back?” And then I knew. After getting my father out of bed and digging up a pair of tweezers, ripping out skin and smearing all kinds of antiseptic all over my back, I was tick-free and sort of worried about having Lyme Disease. I haven’t gotten a blood test yet but apparently you’re supposed to wait. So, days later, Laura and I went on a little trek on a trail she likes, which happens to have tall grass, and I look down at my pants just to make sure nothing’s lurking there, because you know, I will be a tick hypochondriac from now on, and what do I see…ticks. Everywhere. I flicked at least a dozen off my pants. None of them got to my skin again, but wow. Were they thinking, “It’s him! Let’s finish him off!”? I don’t know.

My brother is now home for the summer. Long nights of martial arts, old video games, and extreme workouts are ahead.

Pro at teaching.

“Reminds me of that fella back home who fell off a ten-story building. As he was falling, people on each floor kept hearing him say, ‘So far, so good.’ Heh. So far, so good.”
-Steve McQueen

“Are you proud that we turned out so strong?” -Bury Your Dead

Par Avion

Children are truly magical people. I had one of my best days ever teaching my mother’s kindergarten class on Friday, and it was rewarding in both the categories of teaching and just making a difference with kids. I have to say, it’s been easier (and, in the long run, more productive) for me to connect with little kids (k-5) than it has been with high-school kids, other than the handful of freshmen, juniors and seniors who I buddy around with in study halls. It was a fun day of being harassed to play games and to play with kids at recess, trying to understand the mindset of five and six year-olds, and trying to get children to meet their potential both in living a social school life and playing silly learning games. The kids in that class are incredibly smart for their ages and most of them are very warm-hearted little beings who know nothing but spreading love and being afraid of spelling tests. Basically where I was at their age, but they’ll go further in school than I did. Also interesting is the fact that the entire class calls me “Richard,” due to the fact that they met me when I was visiting before, and my mother introduced me to them as such. All in all, an excellent day.

Last week I came down with some kind of cold the exact day I heard about the “Swine flu,” the latest flavor of East-coast American terror. I wasn’t exactly worried, but I thought it kind of ironic. I guess it’s from being around kids so much…is there a connection?

Despite this, I hung out at my brother’s place on Thursday night to help him out with his Greek Sculpture final paper, a feat which took hours upon hours of grueling digging through rough sentences and shoveling through bad grammar and typos, but I think I ultimately bestowed upon him the makings of an A paper, if he didn’t screw it up after I left for home. It was a good evening of just hanging out like we always used to, and having some down time from how busy we’ve been. Getting a little of the old life back. Practiced some Wing Chun, watched Dragonball (because brother’s room-mate is obsessed all of a sudden), had some pizza and a ton of laughs. All in all, the whole process of paper-fixing at One AM left us looking something like this:

Note the matching soul-patches.

Onward into personal territory. Today was my first day of P90X Phase Three, and I did it coming off the end of this aggravating head-cold, and it ended up being the most solid back/chest routine I’ve ever done. I upped my weights in every category, upped my pushup and pullup reps, didn’t skip anything, and didn’t feel dead when it was over. Not only proof that the program works if you’re dedicated to it, but also proof to myself that certain goals can be achieved, regardless of how long it takes (my metabolism sucks and I’ve had problems with certain exercises, so finding a fitness regimen that worked for me, as well as taking extreme fitness to the next level once I got in shape, was sort of difficult). Going to try to spread the love to new people in the near future.

A quick update on the site: First and foremost, a Sailing Dreams blog is on the way, which will keep a more focused concentration on what my brother and my film business is up to, including short films and bigger projects. My brother’s new film was released in December, which many have seen (don’t worry Ben, your copy will be on the way soon!) and I am working on a new one right now along the lines of “SLICES” (happy one year anniversary!) and a guy Ritchie caper if it were to take place in Upstate New York. This summer, we will be working on a larger project together, which I cannot disclose details on right now, but it looks like it will be good right now.

As for the site, the film of the week is Doubt, as I’ve gotten back into Theatre mode a little by editing my long stageplay, Ecliptic, went to Siena to watch my brother’s Acting final (a scene from Hwang’s M. Butterfly), went to UA to see their producion of Guirgis’ Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train (amazing job, props to Anthony Padilla as Lucius), and ended the weekend by checking out Shanley’s adaptation of his own play. Solid acting from people you’d expect it from, and the general feel of the source material (a stage play), something absent from many adaptations these days.

Additionally, I’ve added in the “Articles” section, my LOST theories and top-five lists for anyone who might care/ wish to share and compare. I’ve posted a few things, and I will add more each week, as there are countless things still to talk about, but I am in end-of-packet mode and don’t have the time to focus on it all at once. so check that out if you want.

Finally, here’s a video my brother edited for some guys at school, due to his increasing reputation as someone who “makes sweet videos.” I don’t really know who these guys are, just some campus acquaintances who know about him and asked a favor.

Yep, that got shown in a class.

Till next time, friends.

“Wherever you’ve seen a cop beatin’ a guy/wherever a hungry newborn baby cries/wherever there’s a fight against the blood and hatred in the air/Look for me, Ma, I’ll be there“- Bruce Springsteen

“You down wit that, snoopy? That’s dope, innit?” -Jackie Chan

Goodnight, Earth. I hope you had a good day.

One of the things that has always bothered me about Earth Day is the notion that Earth only gets one day, like Martin Luther King. Don’t get me wrong, I surely celebrate it, but, have we as a people grown to be so “over” our planet that it only gets one day? Bear with me for a second. Are we not bigoted and stubbornly patriotic on days other than Flag Day? Do we have only one day set aside for our country’s lovely soccer moms to drive gas-gurgling, American-Flag-plastered SUVs? I hardly think Earth deserves to be given only one day, like we’re celebrating its birthday or something. And it’s not like on this day, every person living on this planet has a day off from their jobs and school so they can go do something nature-oriented. Historical figures who live(d) on Earth get that, right? Nope. You still have homework and the same crap to do at your job, although your school and/or work might have an Earth Day poster they whipped up the night before, or maybe that co-worker nobody really likes decided to bring in a box of generic cookies to “celebrate Earth Day,” but I’m not sure it really means anything other than everyone likes cookies and nobody still likes him. I don’t know if I’m any better, but I try to (without being declared a “hippie”) do things for Earth whenever possible, even before all of these depressing stories about the polar ice caps melting and Armageddon and extinct polar bears. Maybe it’s because I watched Fern Gully and Captain Planet when I was a kid. Or maybe because this happens to be the only place in the galaxy we can actually live on, I don’t know. Probably more the former.  What can we really do on Earth Day other than go to our job? I mean, it’s not like we can take it off for “religious reasons” (although…nevermind, don’t get me started). Luckily my weekday job is on call, so I took this Earth Day off to…wait for it…work on a film project, a short film about crime. Yay. But I also went to see Earth, a nature documentary in the movie theatre, with my brother, Laura and others, from which 20% of profits went to…ahh..ahhh…ahhhh. Okay, so I didn’t do anything all that useful FOR the Earth in the scheme of things, but I think it’s that sort of “awareness” and just thinking about it that really means something. I don’t know. I don’t necessarily buy the same theories about global warming and the end of the world as a lot of people I’m acquainted with do (If I did, I’d probably stop caring about Earth and just do all the rambunctious garbage I’ve ever wanted to do before 2012).

Anyway, today was the “Imagination Celebration” at the school I sub at, which meant every child in the school did a group of different projects about animals, the environment, and technology (robots made of clay!) and decorated the entire school, also inviting the other schools in the district to come tour the school all day and look at what they did.  This meant I also got to see my favorite students from the other elementary school, which made everyone pretty excited.   It was a really good day to be there, even though I was teaching fifth grade most of the day.

Me: (enthusiastically) “There’s lots of great stuff here about sharks and lions.  Look at all the hard work they did for you. Are you having fun?”

Student: “Not really.”

After that I hung out in the Kindergarten and talked to five year-olds, which is always an experience.  A student gave me a cupcake with a football ring on it, which I attempted to give to a Kindergarten child who was staying in for recess, in order to cheer him up.  He gave me a resounding “no,” so I took it back.  The rest of the day, after deciding to himself that he really wanted it, he asked me roundabout questions such as, “So…do you like football rings?” and “If you had one, would you want to give it to someone?”  It’s amazing that people so young can stretch things out and attempt manipulation already.  It’s kind of cute, really.  Future extortionists of America.

Yesterday I was in the special ed room at the middle school, which is one of my favorite classes to do.  It also desensitizes me to what a child’s reading level is supposed to be, as the 6th, 7th and 8th graders in this class are on about the same level as the 1st graders in the elementary.  It’s amusing, though, when you ask the class if they know what the word “yield” means, and a student says confidently, “Is it a kind of food?”  Incidentally, a girl in that class happens to be the granddaughter of Ernie Williams, the famous blues player, which was a sort of pseudo-shocking thing to find out.  Y’know, that her grandfather is good buddies with B.B. King and on the cover of all sorts of entertainment journals, in his eighties and still playing his guitar till four in the morning, playing out and rocking shows.  It’s even greater when you ask her about it:  “Your grandfather is pretty famous, isn’t he?”  And the response: “Sure.  I guess.  Whatever.”

So, in the past week, I’ve had interesting things to do, like pick up an androgynous half-Japanese kindergartener and carry him across the room, Keep kids in for recess for beating the crap out of each other on the bus, and listen to many priceless quotes.  Additionally, the special ed teacher I’m pretty good buddies with told his students about my *other* job, so as soon as I showed up, he asks the class, “How does Mr. So-and-So like his cheese sliced?” and the entire class yells, “Sliced thin!”  I love my life.

So, couldn’t ask for much more.  Snow and 80 degree weather within a twenty-four hour period, the elementary school turned into the Animal Kingdom, and some fun with the kids.  The fact that it was pay-day didn’t hurt either.

“Never pass up an opportunity to have sex or be on television.“  -Gore Vidal

“Douche is French for ‘Shower.’  So I will be taking lots of douches when we go to Paris.” -Damon Lindelof

“Bebopaloobabawopshamboo, and doomo arigatoo if I got to” -Clutch

Voted off the “Island”

As some might know, I’m a fairly large fan of the television series LOST on ABC. One of the hallmarks of this show’s Fandom is the constant theory-spinning that happens in dozens of podcasts and hundreds (at least) of blogs. Several journalists and respected journals including Kristen of television’s E! Network, TV Guide, DocArzt and DarkUFO have weekly, often daily, updates.

I’ve been an avid fan, watcher, researcher and theory-spinner about this show since its inception in September of 2004. I think my theories are pretty good, as the creators of the show make reference to dozens of pieces of literature that I’m fond of, and a million pieces of pop culture that I dig, and also the simple fact that (not bragging at all here) a lot of my predictions on serially-released fiction have ended up being right, or at least interesting enough that friends who also like the show enjoy listening to me go on and on. Being that I’m also a writer and that people occasionally read my blog, I figured I would compile my greatest theories for the remainder of the show (about 21 more episodes) and everything that’s happened up to this point, including character angles, Island mythology, my own critique of the writing in the show, and so on.

This is the part of the blog where I start swearing. Because of this dipshit, I’m reconsidering posting anything formal for awhile. If the link/article interested you or you don’t feel like clicking on it, here’s a video that’s worth 4 minutes of your time.

I didn’t know of this guy until recently, and didn’t think his podcast was particularly good because a) I had already thought of or disagreed with most of his material and b) he often tells gay jokes, which isn’t totally cool with me.

If you don’t care about LOST or ABC or podcasts or blogs (and if you say you don’t care about blogs you’re lying to yourself or googled me by accident because look where you are, but moving on), that’s fine, and I totally understand. But, if you’re a writer, a maker of any sort of art, or even just someone who respects the people who work very hard (and some who make a living) at writing/creating/thinking, this is an offense to you and your intelligence. I hate to sound like the first teacher who ever assigned you a book report, but plagiarism is absolutely not okay. It’s not just stealing, it’s also an assault on thought itself. It’s an attempt to con the reader into thinking something came from somewhere it didn’t. It is performed by thieves, opportunists and scavengers. It probably happens on the internet more than anywhere, especially with sites such as Writer’s Cafe’ where writers post their own creative work. A friend of mine, Tara Marie (a brilliant mind and occasional scribbler of words) had her material blatantly taken and reposted under someone else’s name on more than one occasion. Sure, the solution for me may have been “Don’t post there again” but has it come to the point that not only can we not come up with our own creative work to take credit for, but we’re going to rip off people’s opinions on OTHER people’s creative work?

Okay, so it’s a television serial drama. Big deal. But this is a case of plagiarism to the most extreme degree, and instead of apologizing on his site or even admitting that he stole the material shown in the video (and many more), he simply denied knowing who the original bloggers were, and then made videos on his site “Temporarily unavailable due to a copyright issue.” Like I said. Coward and scavenger. This guy is a hyena, and I’m happy TV Guide is lightening up about him and taking this thing seriously. Has it really gotten so bad that we don’t even have our own opinions anymore?

Anyway, I look forward to seeing this blow over. Sure, posting my theories about a television show for my friends to look at is not, in the scheme of things, a big deal. But with something so ridiculous happening, I’m surely not going to be pinning up things like my critical/creative work for VCFA, as fun as it was to have my schoolmates and friends looking at it. And don’t call me shirley.

“It’s a joke, it’s a lie, it’s a rip-off, man/ artificial phonies, I hate it, hate it” -Ramones

Hartshorn X

It’s been interesting lately. I’ve been amping up my fitness regimen again before summer after it took a dip when I was sick (you know, back in January). I’m doing P90X in a second, more dedicated fashion and playing with the Team Beachbody stuff (as the great Jimmy still wants me to be a coach) and am running again, getting ready for the races this summer. My energy is up and my balance, of all things, is getting better.

My latest horrible tragedy is that I am working on a new film that includes footage from something I was filming awhile back, and I’ve found all but one tape full of footage. The footage is irreplaceable (people involved far away, locations gone), and I’ve dug up the entirety of the house and harassed everyone I know about having it, and it’s nowhere to be found. So I may have to come up with an alternate solution. Not being able to find the tape is not the tragedy; it’s the fact that looking for it is becoming an obsession and taking up the majority of my free time. Looking in the same places over and over, having writer’s block because I can’t stop thinking about it, and the inability/non-motivation to continue along with the movie. So, today, I gave myself a half hour and said if I couldn’t find it, I’d stop looking. So unless any bright ideas come along anytime soon, RIP. Sad face.

Onward. My grandfather got remarried yesterday, an interesting experience which I will not go into here. Yesterday was also the anniversary of Courtney leaving us. I still have the only copy of a movie we made for cinema arts class in high school; pretty funny stuff. At least I didn’t lose that.

Subbing has been very good and plentiful lately. I’ve been to a few different schools, elementary and high. The mix is really good and I’m developing some really good bonds with students (to the point that some of them are finding me on Facebook). An amusing experience I’d like to share with you: subbing for 3rd graders the other day, their assignment was to write in their class journals a page on a process, i.e. “How to…” My favorite included “How to make a hot fug sunday” (sic), “How to take kare of a boy,” (sic) and “How to write a book.” I talked to the book-writing student, hoping for amusing answer, and she says to me, very maturely, “I write books for fun.” And here I thought I had to go through an MFA program to make it happen. Apparently, this girl has found the secret. So I told her I write too, and that’s what I’m going to school for, and she said that’s what she wants to do. She seemed pretty sure about it (in 3rd grade, no less). After explaining what a hard process this would be to write a page on for her 6 or 7 year-old peers, she decided to do her paper on “How to make a snowman.”

It impressed me to see how smart and confident a third grader was, using words like “formation” and spelling them right. I was even more amazed the day after when a 9th grader in my class struggled with how to spell “righteous” for about two minutes, and settled on “right chess.” The crop is mixed on every level of education right now.

I am doing a lot of writing, for packet and otherwise. Where my first two months were dedicated to the likes of Glover, who I developed a healthy (maybe) emulation-obsession for, with (I think) decent results, this month I’ve deemed my work “The Spy Packet,” reading three (3) of Ian Fleming’s incredible James Bond novels, as well as a few of his short stories. I think what I write is going to be quite amusing. I am really looking forward to the next residency, albeit not wanting this semester to end. I am thinking of doing a small docu/mocku/mentary about VCFA and the residency process.

Oh, here. Before I forget, there’s this thing going around about writing down 5 songs that are the keys to your musical taste and your personality. Hence the name: key songs. As Ben Schuman, the creator of this game, puts it: “I’m not asking you to distill your love of music into 5 songs, but just to pick any 5 key songs that really get under your skin. Songs you never get tired of… or songs that it’s relatively hard to get tired of, at least. Songs that you won’t stop listening to no matter how silly they are. The songs that cut extra deep. Songs that you’ve listened to so much that they’re inseparable from large chunks of your life, and you might sometimes think you’ve outgrown them, but you never really do. Songs where you could be known as “That guy/girl who likes that song,” and it wouldn’t be that weird for you.”

But as I am convinced these quizzes are a ploy by Facebook for easy identity theft, but because Laura wants me to do it, I’ll post it here on richardlives. My current five:

1. Crisis- “Gemini”

2. The Kinks- “Celluloid Heroes”

3. Nobuo Uematsu- “Valley of the Fallen Star”

4. Gackt- “Vanilla”

5. Takeharu Ishimoto- “Under the Apple Tree”

Obviously, there be more, but that’s all the little game calls for. So there you go.

Before I forget, I was working at the deli the other day, and while trying to avoid hitting an oblivious co-worker with a box of cheese, I bumped into the chicken rotisserie, and the glass door completely shattered, shards of glass raining over my arm and almost my face (I got lucky). My arm was a little bit sliced up, nothing too bad, all healed now other than light scarring, but let me just say that this was blamed completely on me. While still bleeding, I swept up the glass mess so no one would get hurt, and the managers came over and the first thing they asked me was, “Did we lose any product?” Never asked me if I was okay. I highly recommend you work in that place.

Do you ever hear people saying stuff like, “I can’t get a job?” I’ve been doing some thinking about that, and in my experience it seems to me that they’re really saying “I can’t get a job I really want to work.” You and me both, buddy. Those same people ask me, “How do you have three (3) jobs when the economy is like this?” Well, to tell you the truth, it’s because I don’t have time for four. These are the same people who laugh and tell me they wouldn’t work for ten dollars an hour, yet they’re unemployed and complaining about it. I don’t necessarily enjoy working in a deli, especially with the way I’m treated there even after six (6) years of working there, but it brings in money when everything I WANT to do is part-time right now. I’m also substitute teaching in two districts and doing grad school full-time, getting my foot in the door for things I want to do, keeping a vicious fitness regimen, working on outside writing/film work, carrying a stable relationship and a pretty decent social life, so please. I won’t tell you not to complain about your life, even if you’re not doing anything, because it isn’t my business, but if everyone puts a little effort forth, maybe the economy (or at least, your personal life) won’t seem so decrepit.

I’m Richard Hartshorn, and I approve this message.

“Can’t waste a day when the night brings a hearse / so make a move and plead the fifth, ’cause you can’t plead the first” -Rage Against the Machine

Who is this Wong Fei Hung? The devil?

It’s been awhile. The past few weeks have been a little bit messy and disorganized, and I have been having such bad writer’s block that I actually did my critical paper for this month before I even started my creative piece. The thing I’m working on this month is quite the daunting little task, and I’m hoping to at least get some decent feedback this time around. As you might see in the right hand navigation, I’m going to be revamping the “writing journal” section due to popular request. As soon as I get this packet in on Monday.

I’m beginning to look forward to this summer’s residency, not only because of the warm weather. The whole thing is a combined meditative process: preparations, the journey there, the arrival, the attempt to find a balance between social activity, academics and sitting in your room along listening to music that reminds you of a saner time and place, with another sort of situation: I think I’ve said before that VCFA is, to me, something like a combination of Hogwarts and the Island. When you get there the first night, especially when it’s your first time, it’s sort of like being sorted, or like that first night they crashed on the Island and were trying to talk to each other. People from a million different places and walks of life. I’ll elaborate more on this as the residency gets closer, because I’m going to need something to write about.

Tomorrow is the day Beachbody wants to get more than the record 522 people to log into their WOWY (“Work Out With You”) accounts and do a simultaneous workout of their choice at 11AM (Eastern). I’ll be doing mine, and I’m trying to get some people involved, so whatever crazy location on the world you’re in, if you’re planning on being active tomorrow, join us. www.milliondollarbody.com or if you want to sign up through my friend Jimmy, a Team Beachbody Coach, his link is here.

Other than being batted around by my job(s) and people who want my money (credit card company, idiots accusing me of hit-and-running them, car insurance company), things are pretty decent. I’ve had a couple of good days subbing for 7th grade special ed and freshman graphic design and video broadcasting (i.e. shit that did not exist when I was in school, which the students cannot appreciate), in which I got to hang out in a greenroom and refer to the students in the sound booth as “n00bs.” All in all, a decent work week. Attempting to get a bunch of work done today so that I can relax tomorrow, and squeeze in 3 hours to catch Watchmen.

That should do. I hope our last month of winter finds everyone well.

“The only man I know who behaves sensibly is my tailor; he takes my measurements anew each time he sees me. The rest go on with their old measurements and expect me to fit them.” -George Bernard Shaw

Dude. Monster.

Days like Monday make this whole thing worth it. I subbed at an elementary school for a remedial learning class, which meant tiny classes, actual teaching all day, and plenty of appreciation. The children were actually well-behaved, which was nice, and I am now at the point where I am getting hugs from students who remember me. I think I am leaning toward elementary education over high school. Five year-olds don’t give you sarcasm, they’re not texting and playing with cell phones during class, they don’t gab about their boyfriends/girlfriends and how wasted they were at Billy McUnderage’s party last night, and when they make noise and you tell them to shut up, they don’t take it personally, because they can’t. It’s been a great experience at the elementary. This morning however, I accepted five days at the high school. Doh! Man’s gotta make money, I suppose. Not much, but…

Some exciting news today (exciting news for a middle-class media junkie, at least). I recently opened up an account on Open Salon, the online real-time magazine, and have been posting a few favorite entries from this here blog (as well as plugging the ever-loving shit out of richardlives.com). Today, two of my entries (the recent “Man Vs. Child” and the ancient “The ramblings of a man in an apron”) were chosen as editor’s picks, and the latter is being featured on the “cover” of the site (the site-makers gave it their own snarky title, “why that man behind the deli counter hates you”). So that made me sort of happy, although now I am defending my position on deli cuts with people I’ve never met, which is sort of like a third job.

Open Salon (cover)

My stuff on Open Salon

Anyway. I am no longer sick; I still have the clear-your-throat-every-three-seconds-and-annoy-your-girlfriend symptom but it’s fading away more each day, and my thumb is pretty well healed over (actual skin? what?). And I am beginning a new film project, which details will not be disclosed on yet, this coming week. It’s winter break for the little ones, so I will be on an indefinite break from the subbing world.

As for the rest of the day, I will be attempting to write a script, working out, poring over old episodes of LOST, playing Mass Effect, and hoping I survive whatever planet Earth throws my way next.

“Let’s look death in the face and say ‘Whatever, man.‘” -Hugo Reyes

Man Vs. Child

This has probably been the most eventful week of my substitute teaching career. I’ve done three days this week, all of which were under weird circumstances. On Monday I did Home Ec, and had no idea when I was going to be leaving. Nothing too interesting happened in class itself, but the whole day was improvised. Kind of aggravating. I think that was a headache day. Wednesday definitely was…I had middle school and high school gym (P.E.!) all day. Interesting thing about this. I get up, get all psyched up to do physical activity, throw on appropriate clothing (expensive track shirt and Nike Twilights) and so on. I get to school, get my key, completely re-arrange the gym teacher’s office, enjoy the private bathroom that no one else gets to use all day but me, I open up the gigantic green-doored armory where the equipment is, and start unloading basketballs, mats, and everything else I want to play with during the day. I even have a little note card on the desk with a plan: have the students do basketball drills. Three free periods. Awesome. Finally, the other coach (female) comes out of the girls’ locker room (name will be omitted). I say hello and introduce myself. Funny side-story here: she says “Hi Rich.” Then two seconds later, “Are you Phil?” I looked at her like a cow looks at an oncoming train (thanks Weird Al) before saying, “Umm, no…he’s my brother.” Anyway, back to the main plot of our tale. I’m stoked as hell to finally be shooting hoops in the gym that I grew up getting made fun of and getting my ass kicked by cooler kids in, and she says to me, “You have to just have study halls with the kids all day. If you don’t have certification for First Aid, you know, it only takes one kid throwing a ball across the gym and hitting someone in the head…” Hey. Shut up. I’m playing basketball today.

The nerve!

So, her classes were doing cross country skiing all day (outside). Before she leaves during period one, she says to MY students, “You have to have a study hall. He (me) isn’t certified, you can’t play sports.” She ducks and runs just as the eruption of complaints reaches the tip of the volcano. “This is gay!” “Get someone who is certified!” Jesus fucking Christ. So, I finally make a judgment call. “Hey guys,” I say, and they all gather around me in a half-circle like it’s Lord of the Flies time. “I’ll get some basketballs out and we’ll play, just clean up five minutes early so [anti-coach] doesn’t know we did.” Suddenly, I’m their savior. I’ve once again gone from unfair super-douche to best substitute ever.

Inevitably, [anti-coach] comes back ten minutes early, and balls are flying everywhere. She replicates my cow-looking-at-oncoming-train expression, and I quickly say, “Yeah, I told them they could play for the last ten minutes if they behaved during our study-hall part of the class.” She says that’s a good idea and I say I’ll do that for every class. So, naturally I let every class play basketball the entire time (like my lesson plan said) and, surprise surprise, no one got a life-threatening injury all day. During my free periods, I put music on and shot hoops by myself. Ninth period, I played HORSE with a bunch of kids from the b-ball team and I won. Generally, a good day, but trying to moderate games and keep all of the kids happy (despite the fact I was letting them play when someone else said they couldn’t) is a task. It takes adapting, I’ll say that much.

I say I made the right decision and I’ll stick by that till I die. I mean, come on…not letting kids participate in a class that is specifically designed to allow them to let off steam? And only because I can’t personally give them CPR if needed? I’ve done gym (P.E.!) classes a few times,and the last one I did was elementary school, and I had at least two kids get hurt every class because they’re little and awkward and their muscles/bones aren’t developed enough to run around in circles and play sports. If these five year-olds were mature enough to get up and walk six feet to the health office, I’m pretty sure any minor injury sustained in a middle or high school class could be sufficiently taken care of with little red tape. There comes a point when you have to draw a line and stop trying to exert imaginary authority when there’s a younger sub who you think doesn’t know better. I hate Pink Floyd, but I will say that sometimes you just need to “leave them kids alone.”

Today was much calmer. I had Honors English all day, and I spent most of it writing a critical paper. During the more interesting periods, I sat and talked to ninth graders, and actually had some decent conversations. Nothing too brainy, but a group of girls eighth period wrote a “rap” song about me. Most of it was pretty lurid. I can’t recall specific lyrics other than they rhymed “Hartshorn” with “porn.” A pleasure to have in class, really.

As I do this job more and more, I am forced to get further into not only what my own mindset was at their age, but the mindsets of the individuals I’m teaching. Some people would call substitute teaching a glorified babysitting job, which on some occasions it certainly is, but when you get a good group of people, there’s always something to be taught, as well as something to be learned. It’s also basically a charity job, as it doesn’t pay any better than working at a supermarket part-time and they only need you when they need you, and you have middle-aged women thanking you all day, as if you’re their child’s Pediatrician.

Let’s see Bear Grylls do MY job.

But as many headaches as I might come away from this with, I believe in what I’m doing, and I’m going to keep fighting the fight.

We’re all winning, I think, in the long run.

“I wish there was someone here I could screw.” -Ninth grade girl

“Kids don’t know shit/everything they learn is wrong” -Islands