The Grave? Your ass? A beartrap? Pudding?

My novel is in the works right now... complete, needs editing, and we're having some stall issues with the illustrator. The bad news is that it may not exist in physical form in time for BizarroCon. That's okay, I'm thinking I'll print up some shirts, maybe improve the drawing, and give them out as swag. So speaking of BizarroCon...

As a relatively active member of the Bizarrocentral community, and the Portland Literary Offensive, I heard about the first rumblings of this momentous first con here in hometown PDX. Of course I was interested, and let CM3 and Rose know immediately that I would be interested in whatever events were forthcoming. That translated into one of the most pleasant surprises I've ever gotten, shown here as taken from the program of events:

3:00-3:50 pm CROSSOVER POTENTIAL (Garrett Cook, David Agranoff, Daniel Scott Buck, Jess Gulbranson) - Discuss ways bizarro can branch off into other genres and medias, led by four authors who have one foot in bizarro and one foot somewhere else. Thus the title of the blog.

Apparently I'm speaking on a panel. That's fucking awesome. A good panel, too- Garrett is publishing on Evil Nerd Empire like I am, David is a very articulate local author and activist, and I'm not sure what to say about the charming D.S. Buck. He is a breed apart... and perhaps a bon vivant author from another time. It should be interesting.

I'll be reading as well, and also be entering the freak-out contest, for which I have an exquisite plan, so we'll see what happens. Good times, and I suggest that anyone interested in writing, counterculture, subversive literature, bizarre media, or whatever... come out to the haunted-ass Edgefield and join the BizarroCon.

Take Adrienne Hatkin... please

Apparently time and Portland have not been kind to Wooden Indian Burial Ground... at least that is what one pundit would have me think after she blasted me for this blog entry. As you can see in the comment, it's not immediately obvious that she really paid any attention to what I said, but was tarring with a brush that had been used for some other reviewers. And was perhaps a wee bit sensitive... and why? Well, with but a click of the ol' button, it turns out that of course, she's in a band. Now, in my response to her tirade I feel I may have come off as a bit pompous when I really just wanted to show that I too am an artist with feelings. This blog will be an attempt to show that all along I was never picking on anyone, just commenting on the state of the music scene.

But in the age-old tradition of tall daisies being hammered down and standing-up nails being cut, we need an example... so thanks, Adrienne, for offering up your band, Autopilot Is For Lovers, for scrutiny.

So what do we see first... the band is a boy/girl duo. Ouch. Now, there's nothing wrong with duos. I'm in a duo... but the boy/girl thing is perilously trendy (Mates Of State, Raveonettes, Talkdemonic, White Stripes, WOODEN INDIAN BURIAL GROUND just off the top of my head). Posing in front of some hideous orange thing that might be the Canton Grill? Ignoring a question about your influences? Come on, people!

All of this is tangential, though it will return to my eventual point. What about the music? Well, not surprisingly, it's quirky indie folky songs. Surprisingly, in the same vein as WIBG ("In the morniiiing...") they're quite good. Though of course in a field crowded with the stuff, I can't say that they're exceptional yet. Yet. I'll wait to see them live for that... so wow me, Hatkin. The female vocals lead, which I find to be the more successful configuration for this style. Makes me wish I had hung around Numinous Knot long enough for Jolene to be our singer. The song "Shadows" jumped out at me most... it was more Liz Durrett than "Juno," which was a nice change of pace. The band definitely sounds like it needs a little road grime on them... they need to weather a few things musically to gain some gravitas, which could make them a damn good band, which they need to be if they want to last beyond the current crop of fashionable pairings. See Faith Purvis for an example of how indie is done right.

In one sense, I'm glad that there is ample opportunity for people of a certain musical persuasion to get out there and play their songs and get recognition. Adrienne and Paul or Justin and Judy get to go out and express themselves, enoy themselves, in front of people who are appreciative. Their style of music, and their fashion, is the style and fashion right now, so they have a place ready for them, so that's why I don't understand the complaint that Portland doesn't recognize honest music. Perhaps wanting to scream your ideas and the urge to make cute animal cutouts and the desire to have clever wordplay shouldn't overshadow the simple creation and execution of the music.

That's why I don't get turned on by Death Cab or "Juno." Undeniably, there's talent and creativity behind it, but they so desperately try to be clever and endearing that it's pathetic. Like someone produced a weapons-grade isotope of Adorno's definition of kitsch. That's why I persist in liking Morrissey despite the world's categorical hatred of him. He has sliced away so much of himself from the content of his music, that the empty spaces of what's left speak volumes. I feel there is a similar power and authenticity in the cryptic lyrical approach of Steely Dan or the vagueness of Morphine, neither of whom are 'cool' to the kids these days.

In the end, what do you do? You do what's right. For me, that's admitting that an indie retro lo-fi americana band is good, despite my preconceptions. It also feels right to continue to call bullshit on the stylistic pretentions of their otherwise talented frontman. Scale it back, dude! This is not a kneejerk reaction on my part. I have long objected to this sort of shenanigan. I think the criticism of my original blog was a hurt spur-of-the-moment reaction and I understand it. Being an artist makes you vulnerable, so I think we should understand that ultimately we are all on the same side, and can coexist despite differing approaches. Portland is the perfect town for that.

So from one artist to another, I would like to offer up this helpful hint: "Masters of War" is played in variations of Em, and the chorus is D and A. We did it with two guitars- one traditional folkstyle, the other electric, distorted in drop D with palm muting. Then, at the end, I threw in a brief motif of "Smoke On The Water" and a rawking pick slide. You're welcome.

Funeral for a friend

There's a grand old tradition in my house of titling blogs with song lyrics or song titles... see the Autarch page for several instances, or my old myspace blog. "Ride My Face To Chicago" indeed. In this case it's hyper-literal again, though.

I've been sorely needing to write another blog, and have been avoiding it because a good friend of mind died recently and that is what I wanted to write about. Unfortunately, there are five stages of grief in this town and they are all anger.

Tim fought cancer for four years and succumbed with full knowledge that there was nothing he could do about it. He had a wife and two kids, about a million friends, an extended family, and more church hangers-on than you could beat with a stick before your arm got tired.

Not to eulogize him- I don't think he requires that, but for a dedicated Christian, he had unknowingly achieved a mental state at the end of his life that rivals that of accomplished meditators. He had done a great thing, going to that place as he died, and I told him so. Tim left everyone with a good taste in their mouth on his way. How many of us will be able to say that?

I met Tim when my ex and I were attending the young couples' group at a local megachurch. We hit it off pretty quickly- I'm discovering that that's how he was, just friendly, but we discovered we had a lot in common. Bass players, involved in IT, married young, dissatisfied with our lives, though ultimately he chose to reconcile himself to his situation and was happy with it. He was that kind of guy. After I outed myself as an atheist Tim and I played in the worship band. Heck, we pretty much were the worship band. Wrap your cognitive dissonance around that one.

Once my marriage exploded and my ex decided to destroy me, the community of people who were supposedly compassionate and moral dropped me like I was hot. The people who stuck by me I could count on one hand. There was Tim and... well, Tim. He remained my friend even though it wasn't fashionable anymore. Even the pastors who claimed to want to help now ignore. Honestly, it's what I expected from the people who pimp the most bloody, perverted bestselling work of fiction of all time but I try to be open-minded and expect the best from people. I really do.

So in the wake of that disappointment, here's the real rub. The person from that group who I really wanted to keep hanging out with, to build my friendship with- I can't. I won't let myself. Why? His wife and my soon-to-be ex are friends. And he's dying. Why does that matter to me? Because as I have discussed in this blog and others, I try to be a truly moral person. My moral decisions are my own, and they are intended for the weal of this world, in general. So I am not going to bring my drama onto the doorstep of a dying man, no matter how much I may feel like I'm being cheated of a most awesome friendship. So I made that decision and kept in touch by email.

It was no surprise when Tim passed the other day, and he had been planning all aspects of it for a while. The funeral itself was awkward, and it felt like I was attending some sort of mafia funeral where the rivals had betrayed me or something. The service seemed cheap- Jesus this, Jesus that, which to me detracts from the true glory that was Tim's life and maybe the even greater glory that was the way in which he chose to die over a period of four years. There was a reception afterwards, and I suppose I should have stayed, but I really felt like I was going to get icepicked in the back of the head, so I made like a tree and got the fuck out.

One last thing- Tim's uncle got up and talked about some 'Tim stories,' involving Tim's bizarre sense of humor. He asked who out there had their own 'Tim story', and I was surprised to see that in a huge church pretty much full of people, there weren't that many people with their hands up. But I was one of them. So here's mine, to honor the memory of Tim:

Tim (about 2 years into having cancer at this point) and Beth had a bunch of the couples from the church group over to their house for dinner and hanging out. All the various kids were upstairs playing legos and PS2 and whatnot. The adults were in the living room, having awkward conversation in the manner of Christian 20-somethings who don't know how to enjoy themselves. Tim brings out his parakeet, which is molting or disintegrating or something, and puts it on his shoulder. Each time the parakeet ruffles its feathers, a huge cloud of parrot dust billows out. The sunlight from the window is catching it, and no one is saying anything. I decide to.

"Holy crap, Tim. Don't breathe that stuff... it'll give you the cancer." He gives me an exaggerated deer in the headlights look. Then his wife shrieks at me.

"THAT WILL NOT GIVE YOU CANCER!"

Tim just cracks up...

POST-SCRIPTUM

Since we're on the subject, yesterday was the five year anniversary of my mom beating cancer, so I'd just like to say I'm grateful for that shit. "WOo-hah!" as Bustah Rhymes would say.

I have joined a choir

Well, as much as it seems like it could be the lead in to the standard blog-type almost-joke, it's not.

Last night, with good buddy Tim in tow, I answered a craigslist ad for the Pacific Pops Choir, which claimed to be 'Your Friendly Neighborhood Heavy Metal Choir' which was desperately in need of tenors. Were we tenors? Who the fuck knows?

When we got to the church rec room that housed the initial meeting of the choir, we discovered that this group was primarily made up of... yes, you guessed it. OLD WOMEN. Nothing against old women, it's just that there was suddenly some cognitive dissonance happening. Most of the people there were veterans of this choir and its various showtune/family/movie theme iterations, so apparently the heavy metal theme this time just didn't matter to them.

Once the chairs were all arranged, we were dropped right in to the tenor section, which consisted of two tenor women and... us. To make matters worse, the two tenor women were not singing very loud, or at all, that I could hear, so when it came to rehearsing tenor parts, it was just me and Tim, who neither read music or have any choir experience.

Surprisingly, I think we pulled it off. The director of the choir, who is a very cool guy, said we did awesome, though it may be he is just desperate for tenors. Perhaps there is something to it, though. Tim is an amazing singer. Really great, and anyone who has heard him at karaoke or our performances at open mic will readily attest to his pipes. I'm not so hot as a singer, but don't give so much of a shit, so I was hitting high tenor F-sharp in a falsetto and just letting it resonate down in my nutsack, so I guess it worked.

The choir rehearsed "Born To Be Wild", "Boulevard Of Broken Dreams", and "Black Hole Sun" for starters. Yes, looks more like a B-theme. Apparently solos are available- one of the girls our age is doing "American Idiot." Tim and I joked about doing a duet of "Angel Of Death", but in all reality I'm pretty sure we're going to tackle one of the lesser-known Doors tunes. This crazy thing looks like it might just be hilarious and fun. We can look back on it and say, "Hey, remember that year we sang 'In-a-god-a-da-vida' with those old ladies?"

And I suppose I can add it to the list of all the wonderful crazy dreams I've been living lately. Let me just state that I remain mindful and grateful of my opportunities. RAWK!!!

I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it

Kayla and I went to see The Dark Knight last night, and of course it was awesome. Heath Ledger, blah blah. Actually, I was of course wowed in my usually quirky way by some seemingly unimportant minor details. I was very impressed with Tommy Lister Jr.'s turn as a prisoner who focused all his murderous badassery into one moment of bodhisattva-esque peace, and newcomer Chris Petschler, as a Gotham PD convoy leader who rides shotgun in an armored convoy who can only watch helplessly with humorous results as his world goes to hell. Besides, sometimes it's just nice to go see a movie with your lady.

Now, I have to preface this by saying that I really am not a comic book nerd. I read a decent amount of comics when I was a kid, but even then I didn't do it right. I read Micronauts. Rom, Space Knight. Static. Ralph Snart. Ambush Bug. Weird shit. Sure, I borrowed my friends' comics that were a bit more mainstream, but on the whole I liked a bit of off-the-wall every now and then.

I lost interest in comics until after high school, when my friend Ackley pretty much demanded that I read Preacher, The Invisibles, and Sin City. I was blown away, not by the hackneyed revelation that "Golly, comics are literature!" but that there was so much talent being thrown at them. You have to love the public library... on my own I discovered Kingdom Come, Watchmen, Safe Area Gorazde, Blade of the Immortal, and others. I'm still not a comic nerd. I don't think I own a single graphic novel. (Okay, maybe that Punisher origin book I forgot to give back to Ackley...)

When the superhero movies started coming out I was generally pleased, but most of all with the X-men series. (Sin City doesn't count. It's like calling Casablanca one of those black and white movies.) They had kept true to the stories, given the characters clean modern looks that didn't rely on crappy spandex costumes, and most importantly, succeeded. See, you can revise all you want, but if it sucks you might as well have sold out or done nothing at all.

When word came trickling through that beyond the trilogy of X-men films they had planned a Wolverine spinoff... well, alright! Let's admit it. There are some great characters in the X-men world, and plenty of ridiculous fucktards, but it is Wolverine's show all the way, and in Hugh Jackman of course they have found the charismatic leading man who is able to pull it off.

At a recent Comic-con, they screened a trailer for the Origins: Wolverine movie, and of course some clever Johnny filmed it with his phone and leaked it on teh intarweb. That is officially why I am excited, because the filmmakers are either geniuses or certifiable. I know if you're interested you'll go find it, but here's the basics. Wolverine and his buddy Sabretooth are bestial, unkillable mutants with claws and sweets sideburns who are Vietnam soldiers. They're brought into a secret government program to give them stronger powers but Sabretooth is actually a psychopath and there are some more mutants. Hilarity ensues.

Doesn't sound like much, but for one thing, you've got the setting, the look... there's maybe one costume through the whole damn trailer. And then there's the casting, and that is why I am most excited.

First off, cast as Colonel Stryker is Danny Huston. Stryker was portrayed in X2 by Brian Cox, and as much as I am a fan of Cox and as great of a villain he was in that movie, bear with me and save your Super Troopers quotes for later. Yes, I know. Danny Huston who? Until fairly recently he was really only associated in my mind as a sort of charming smarm from tiny roles in Children of Men and Marie Antoinette. Then I saw the boss vampire in 30 Days of Night and thought to myself, "Who is this Morrissey-looking badass motherfucker?" I figured they would later make a Shadow of the Vampire type movie about how he actually was that vampire character and they just had to work around it. So he is going to be an awesome villain.

Next up, and most awesome, is a controversial casting choice. Sabretooth, Wolverine's archenemy, has been depicted in comics as a seven-foot-tall blond dude with some sort of faggoty skin tight Cats-reject bodysuit and a fur stole. Yuck. In the first X-men movie he was played by a seven-foot-tall blond wrestler, and as one pundit put it, a 'hippie in a pimp coat.' As shown in the trailer, in this movie they have cast Liev motherfucking Schreiber. Yes, the voice of PBS nature documentaries and Infiniti commercials. Grissom's temporary replacement on CSI. The goofy scientist from Kate and Leopold. He's also one of the finest Shakesperean actors in the world, the finest according to some sources, and is boning Naomi Watts. Take that, Tyler Mane.

Everyone objects to this choice, primarily in appearance. I think he looks just fine. The question that keeps coming up... why tamper with the look of the comics, the detail of the comic, if it works? Well, it doesn't work. That has been the focus of all the postmodern comics from The Incredibles ("No cape!") to Watchmen to The Secret Five which I helmed for Affinity Press before it folded ("... more like the Conspicous Five!") While people do like the escapism of comics, and I'm sure it's easier for continuity and better for branding to have iconic costumes, for the thinking person, the mind rebels at the idea of the world's most powerful entities looking like Wigstock has come to town. Why can't an ordinary looking guy be a brutal, powerful berserker with some claws and fangs thrown on? And let me tell you, having seen the trailer, with whatever combination of Schreiber's acting, physical training, stunts, CGI, and who knows what else, you will have trouble falling asleep watching NOVA after this movie.

So for me, seeing that they've decided to take a big risk by making a movie that bucks these trends even further than they've already done, well let me just say that until X-men Origins: Wolverine comes out, I'm about to lose control... and I think I like it.