Revolving Gaijin Birds

It's been a good week here in the ATL.  I wasn't as productive as I would have liked, but at least I got the one pitch with a deadline done, made some headway on others, and hung out with good people.

Thursday I realized two things:

1)  If I ever move back to Atlanta, I'd like to be talented enough that the crew at Gaijin invites me to work at the studio.  It's not just because they're all amazing at what they do, they're also generally awesome people I like spending time with.  There's a very good vibe in the studio, and I'd love to be a part of and feed off that creative energy.  Obviously they've all been at this for a very long time, so I've got a ways to go.  It's a long-term potential goal.  Just like my goal of being a better artist than Stelfreeze in the next 9 months.  I can do it!

2)  Sarah Cov is totally awesome, and some days I wish our facebook sham marriage was a real one.  You know, except we'd be bi-coastal.  And I told her I don't swing that way.

Friday was also a day of realization.  I woke up, threw yesterday's clothes on and headed out the doctor.  A quick stop for some more delicious Chicken Biscuits later, I arrived at the orthopedist.  He's an old friend of my dad's, and I haven't seen him in a while.  This was confirmed when I heard him coming down the hall saying, "Robby?"  Only people that have known me since the 80s call me that.

He did a short examination of my wrist (which had been giving me ever the slightest of problems, and when I described my injury to Karl Story, he knew exactly what bone was in question), then decided X-rays were a safe bet.  A couple minutes later I'm sitting in the exam room and I hear him say, "Robby..."  Sure enough, there's a tiny little fracture in my navicular (aka scaphoid) bone.  It's not a good one to break, and had it gone unexamined and been worse, it could have gone necrotic.  I know, I was turned on when Karl said the word too.  In any event, it's probably good that I waited a couple weeks to get seen so they can check bone growth to see the extent.  I've got a new splint and a 6-month recovery time.  I'm still planning to play dodgeball though, so look out other folk on the court...  I'll have to pay Kaiser for the follow-up scans, the bastards.  Long story short, I realized my wrist was broken (or at least part of it).

Ran some errands after that (new sheets, including some silky stuff) and then headed to midtown to visit Tom Feister and the gang at Studio Revolver.  It's right by Atlantic Station and they have a sweet setup.  Got to meet Tariq Hassan and catch up with Georges, not to mention a visiting David Atchison.  Good people all, so find their work and support it if you don't already.

Had a great time just chilling and shooting the shit with Tom.  Wish I could have stayed longer, but we had a family dinner planned and the day got started late.  He's going to be doing some very cool work on an upcoming Witchblade special written by the lovely and talented Ron Marz.  I can't wait to see how it comes together, and don't be surprised to see me snatching Tom up as he finishes for something...  The wheels are turning. 

Dinner with my dad's best friend, which was supposed to feature the Hawks game, but TVs were not to be found at El Azteca.  Good food though.  When we got back to the car the radio informed us that the Hawks rolled to their 4th straight win (5th straight at home) and surpassed last year's win total.  Joe Johnson put up 30 for the 3rd straight game.  Even with Marvin out, this team has a shot at 50 wins.  And the 4th seed in the East looks like ours to lose finally, rather than something we had and lost due to complacency

In terms of work, I shot off my pitch for a Marvel book today.  I'm really happy with what I came up with.  No idea what they're looking for or how many people I'm competing against, but I know there's a shot.  With that out of the way I can get back to my delinquent TC pitch (Jorge, you're gonna love this...) and the other ones I was working on in the background, as well the new idea.  

Big things, people.  Big things.  And if not, Scientology all the way.

Wednesday Dump

Worked pretty hard today, but didn't wrap the one pitch I had on the books.  Just trying to tweak it right, and... Not getting there.  Had a good call, sent a couple pitch packages around (one for me, one for friends), so hopefully someone will be getting the green light soon.  If not, I owe five more pitches (self-imposed deadlines) in the next 48 hours.

At night I caught up with Internet superfriend Tally to watch the Hawks game at some Buckhead spot.  Not super high class, as evidenced by a drunken encounter.  There were less than 30 seconds left in the game when Drunk Man stood right in front of the TV, completely obscuring it.  This isn't happening, I told her.  Excuse me.  Can you not block the game?  He looked confused as hell.  I apparently hadn't noticed when he almost fell down the stairs a few minutes earlier, I was wrapped up in the game.  Either stand to the left or the right.  Thanks.  He gives me this weird nod/shake and then sits at our table.  He is visibly tanked now that I've given him half a glance.

DM:  What's going on here?

RL:  Hawks game.  Hopefully they're about to win.

DM:  Is that interesting to you?

RL:  Indeed it is.

DM:  Tell me more about this.

RL:  Well, if the Hawks pull it out, I'll probably put my hands up like this and say, "Yeeaahhh!"

It's at this point that he notices the brace on my left hand.  Yes, I'm wearing it again.  I dunno, I get a twinge every so often when I catch my thumb wrong.  Has me worried, so I'm sleeping in it and wore it all day today.  He starts asking about this, and I tell him I broke my hand punching some guy.  Don't ask me why, I just figured he might leave if I either didn't give him answers he was expecting.  He asked why, then told me he used to be a pacifist and starts espousing his philosophy.  

He keeps asking why I hit the guy, and I told him because I wanted to.  Why does anyone do anything?  The Hawks have won by this point and I'm responding without thinking to Drunk Man.  I even throw my hands in the air and do the YEEEAAHH I promised him.  Tali is laughing.  At one point he gets completely serious and says to me, "I'll break your fucking neck."  Well, that's a horse of a different color.  I, of course, go with the usual response.  Awesome.  He's eye fucking me without blinking and I'm done with this.  If anything goes down there's a knife on the table and he's drunk, so I've got a clear advantage.  Before anything gets out of hand, management comes and kicks him out.  Before his cab came, he was sitting across the courtyard howling at the music.  It was all kinds of hilarious.

***

Little trailer park action for you guys.  Every couple months I hop on Quicktime.com and watch a bunch of trailers.  Normally so I know what's up, but also because it shakes loose the rust.  I came up with some idea a few weeks ago while watching these, but I can't remember anything past the ideas of the last 7 days.  In any event, I want them off my Firefox tabs and on the blog.

SUGAR - From the writer-directors of the excellent Half-Nelson comes the story of a pitcher from the D.R. trying to earn a spot in the majors.  I watch trailers like this and wish I had the guts to write more about the human condition without death and action and mystery surrounding it all.

'Sugar' Trailer

TOKYO - Not much to say.  It's one of those crazy art-house beloved multi-part films from off-the-beaten-path directors.  Of the three, I've only heard of the now mainstream-ish Michel Gondry (and have done no IMDB research to make myself look cooler), but visually this one looks stunning.

'Tokyo' Trailer

SKILLS LIKE THIS - Welcome to my future.  Well, let's hope not.  A failed writer turns to a life of crime, and probably finds himself in the process.  This looks like a hell of a lot of fun.  I also love the poster.

'Skills Like This' Trailer

I'm Working On Something New

I generate ideas all the time.  Literally, something pops into my head, I send myself an email, and only sometimes go back to them.  But they're stored, forever, waiting for the day someone says they need a biblical allegory about the end of the world set in a futuristic cyberpunk that follows an amnesiac cobbler with a heart of gold.

Had a new idea today, while working on my other pitches, and I've also been thinking about launching a new comic series somewhere rather than just chasing WFH.  Of course, the hardest part of getting a series off the ground is an artist.  Not only an artist, but an artist that has the drafting and storytelling chops to not tank you before you even get started.  Especially if you plan on going the Image or other back-end only deals route.

Two of my favorite artists that may or may not be right for this I helped land exclusive contracts.  Beyond that...  I dunno.  If anyone knows of anyone who can do dark, gritty, realistic action (think espionage, but not really), please drop me a line.  In my head I'm thinking either super realistic (tougher to find) or something along the lines of Sean Murphy or Takeshi Miyazawa's work on BFX2.  Lee Moder would be pretty great, but I think he's busy and Ron has dibs.

New stuff gets me excited, but it's a mountain not a molehill, and a marathon, not a sprint.  Miles to go, folks.  Miles to go...

Japanese Spider-Man & The Time of Revenge

So I was busy doing other things on my laptop tonight when I came across an open page on Marvel.com.  On the sidebar was an ad for Japanese Spider-Man.  'Nuff Said!

Holy crap is it awesome in a 70s kitsch sort of way.  It's every thing I could ever hope for.  Planet Spider, Professor Monster, Leopardon, Marveller, Revenge!  And it contains my favorite would-be-out-of-context-if-it-weren't-Japanese line ever, "Those are dinosaur footprints!"  And the nuclear physicist character refuses to build a weapon for Professor Monster's army because, and I quote, his parents would never approve of it.

It's totally amazing.  They threw out about 90% of what makes Spidey Spidey, added the Flash's costume ring contraption, then added all sorts of Japanese trappings to it so it works (I guess) for that audience.  The result in 2009 is the awesomeness to end all awesomeness, or at least something entertaining at 2am.

You're welcome.

Don't Mess With the Ketubah!

I'm in Atlanta (the ATL for those who have never heard me say that) right now.  I flew in Friday morning because Paul, my oldest friend in the world, was getting married.  Flew in, had some delicious Chick-Fil-A Chicken Biscuit breakfast action, spent some time hanging with my dogs, and then my family needed to get on the road to Birmingham (the home town of the newly minted Mrs. Paul).  And then the adventure began.

We got on the road late, no surprise for my family.  But we might have still made it on time to Alabama and the rehearsal dinner.  We were leaving my sister's apartment after picking her up, heading through the back gate since it's by the dumpster and we had trash.  My mom was driving.  And then crazy happened as it sounded like we went off-roading and the bottom of the car was exploding.  Did I mention the minivan was fully packed with luggage, and there were two dogs on the way to being boarded inside along with four humans?  Yeah, awesome.  My dad and sister got out and started making faces as they looked at the car.  I assumed two flats, maybe all sorts of body damage.  In reality it was just a gnarly looking leak - either the radiator or the oil pan got thrashed (we'll know today).  But what it meant was there was no way this car was going to 'Bama in time for anything.

Change of plans, let's all hop in my sister's IS (which is probably about half the size of the van, and take that all the way.  Plus the dogs still need to get dropped off.  Long story short, our should-have-been three hour trip ended up taking closer to 7.5, with a stop-0ff for dinner.  I spent the ride to the hotel in Birmingham with a suitcase encroaching on me from the middle of the seat, making my right arm unable to be lowered or sit at a normal position.  Oh, and my suit and a dress (not mine, I swear) hanging from the handle above the door closest to me.  I was... Uncomfortable.

We got to the hotel around midnight and just in time for some hospitality suite partying.  I attended for too long and poured Bacardi and diet too heavy, but I did finally meet Paul's lovely bride, Jill, for the first time.  She didn't seem like a raving loon, so I gave my blessing to the union.  Paul also asked if I would be willing to do him a solid on Saturday (the day of the wedding).

In Judaism there are several traditions as regards marriage - the huppah, breaking of the glass, dancing the Hora, and more.  Paul asked me if I'd be willing to bear witness and sign the Ketubah, which is essentially the Jewish marriage license.  A big honor to be sure, and one I gladly accepted.

I got to the reception early to take care of my duty, and my fellow co-signee, Stein, was there writing down Hebrew.  He asked if I had practiced.  Um, practiced what?  Apparently we were meant to sign our Hebrew names.  Well, shit.  No one told me this.  I knew my name, but not in Hebrew.  And I have to put part of my dad's name in the sig.  A phone call later and some help from Roei, I've got a crib sheet.  Of course, it's written in cursive Hebrew, which I never truly learned, and my knowledge of basic Hebrew is tentative at best at this point.  I practice it once, it goes okay, and I'm told we can use our cheat sheets.  Stein keeps practicing for a bit, where I only used my sheet once...

The Ketubah bit comes around and there's all kinds of family gathered.  It's maybe 12 people total, but it's the bride and groom's parents, grandparents, etc.  The Rabbi is talking about the Ketubah, what it means, how nice this one is, etc.  And all I can think is, Man, why didn't anyone tell me about the Hebrew.  I don't want to be the reason today gets ruined.  They go through a couple prayers between Paul and Jill, then it's time for the witnessing.  I let Stein go first, as if he screws up the pressure is off, right?

He walks up, cheat sheet firmly pocketed, and whips out what I can only assume is a perfect signature.  Mazel tov.  Then it's my turn.  I look down at the sig, see no problems, and start to get nervous.  It's not about me, it's all about me not wanting to ruin this marriage document with my shoddy grasp of Hebrew and religious customs.  

They hand me the pen and my hand was shaking.  I say, Stop hand, and it refuses to comply.  So 24 year-old Parkinson's boy is sitting there with his crib sheet, signing the slowest Hebrew signature in history, and at one point I draw a line the wrong way.  I completely fuck up a letter, look at it, and then quietly say, Ah, crap.  Nothing I can do.  I finish, barely getting done, and want to get the hell out of there before anyone has a chance to look.  The Rabbi leans in, says it's all good, and I think says a prayer.  All I can hope is that they forget to frame it and it stays rolled up forever, never to see my blunder again.  Of course people want to get pictures of it.  So much for that plan...

An embarrassing moment to be sure, but here's what I took away from it.  I weathered the car debacle the day before like a zen master.  I didn't get stressed, I just took it in stride.  It happened, doesn't matter how and why, let's just figure out what's next.  One of the things I've really keyed into in my life of late is that you can't edit your experiences.  Things happen, good and bad, and while you can analyze (or, as is often the case, overanalyze), there's no changing them.

So what I learned is that I can still get nervous.  Part of the changes I've made the last couple of years have almost entirely limited social anxiety for me.  I've read Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway, and at this point I seldom feel the fear, I just do it (whatever IT may be).  I was actually glad, in hindsight, to have gone through this.  Sure, it would have been nice to be slick and smooth, gliding effortlessly like an eagle across that scroll with my pen.  Point is, it didn't happen.  That would be a largely unmemorable experience, an uninteresting story, and nothing people could have laughed at just prior to the ceremony whilst looking at Stein's camera.

I guess the point is that mistakes are cool, they happen, and always take something away from them, even if it's just a story.

TGIM - Opportunity

Hi there, has is it really been a week?  Didn't mean to leave you all out in the cold, but the combination of the wrist injury, a new roommate, a busy life, and going home to the ATL has kept me busy.  More updates this week, I promise.  But being as it's Monday, here's yet another TGIM to get you through the next five minutes, rest of the day, week, month, etc.

Today I'd like to talk to you about the magic of opportunity.  Sometimes it's obvious - job offers, all-expense paid trips - and other times more subtle - that girl checking you out from across the bar who's out of your league, something that's seventeen steps ahead of the eventual fully-realized opportunity.  A friend of mine asked me how work was last night.  I laughed, as being unemployed means that I don't really have an answer to that, and I'm waiting to hear back on a couple things for the book I'm editing.  But I realized I owed at least four pitches this week.  All short pitches, one of which is part of a "bake off" that I have no idea how many other writers are up for, but pitches nonetheless.

I could play the pessimist and say that I won't get any of them.  I could get down on myself, go to WAMU's site and look at my dwindling finances, and curse myself for turning down a miniseries right after NYCC.  Instead I sit here fired up.  People are asking me what I would do with certain characters and concepts if I got the shot to write them.  I am doing EXACTLY what I want to be doing with my life right now.

Every opportunity, no matter how big or how small, totally validates that all of the experiences I've had and opportunities I've taken advantage of in the past have led me to the place that I am and want to be.  Opportunity means a chance for progress or advancement.  I'm not going to capitalize on every one - part of it is just a numbers game - but I'm making damn sure that I'm not dropping the ball, preemptively shutting the door, or burning bridges as a result of anything presented to me.

Step up when given opportunities.  They're the best way to control your destiny.  As a Libertarian I know and believe that nothing is or should be handed to those who don't take responsibility.  I could bitch and whine about the economy, or how life isn't fair, or some guy is better friends with some other guy and that's how he gets more work than me.

On second thought, that sounds even worse once written.  I'm going to be a man and get by on my own steam.  If friendships and connections benefit me, fantastic.  But if I have to go it 100% alone (Mom, I know you'll never abandon me, relax...), then that's what I'll have to do.

***

Next:  Don't Mess With the Ketubah!

TGIM - Californication

I thought about what I was going to be happy about on Monday a lot over the weekend, and while I came up with many things, I forgot all but one of them.

I watched a lot of new television over the summer - Mad Men, Psych, How I Met Your Mother, Dexter, and probably more. But there's one show that really stood out to me, and I watched it in about two days. Tali told me it would happen, and that I would love Hank Moody (who is a Libertarian), but man... I loved the hell out of the show.

I'm talking of course about Showtime's Californication. Hank Moody is the best character on TV, and he makes the show infinitely watchable. I don't mean that the show is passable, as in, "It's... watchable." I mean that once you start, it's really hard to stop. I took out the first season in under 2 days, and I watched all of Season 2 (despite seeing episodes 1-5 previously online) in less than 24 hours ending today.

I described him last night as "walking sex," not to mention awesome. He lives by the code of "always have a better answer," and though he's a recreational drug user and sex addict, he's a great father and a romantic. He's the man every fuckup should long to be.

There's a pretty big game changer at the end of Season 1, and I wondered what Season 2 would be like. Well, it delivered. It's a fantastic show, and for anyone that hasn't seen it, Season 1 is on DVD, and 2 can be found on the Internet or through friends until the DVD is released. Season 3 comes out this year, and not soon enough if you ask me.

I don't think the mainstream marketing was all that stellar, especially initially, but hopefully it'll be around for a good while. I need good things in my life, especially when the Hawks find new ways to keep breaking my heart.