Blargh

I've been sick. I am a miserable bastard when I'm sick. Truthfully I'm a pretty miserable bastard when I'm in the best of health, but when I'm sick it's like the miserable bastardyness pours out of me in concentrated form. Generally speaking I am content to sit back and quietly disapprove of ignorance and stupidity from afar, however, when ill I can get downright stabby. This feeling of wanting to put a screwdriver through someones kneecap is thankfully mitigated by the fact that I am also a whiny little bitch when I'm sick. And that of course is why I am writing this, to be able to whine to you, Dear Reader, about my latest illness.

After about a day of sniffles and a slightly scratchy throat it hit me. The headache. A real stomach-churner too. The kind that sends you straight to bed with words like encephalitis and inoperable mass flitting through your brain. So to bed I went, with clogged sinuses and a sandpaper throat.

Waking up it felt like someone had placed an old car jack sideways in my mouth, right between the hinges of my jaw, and pumped that thing until the handle broke off. My teeth were like badly insulated wires buzzing in their sockets, bright sparks of pain arcing from one to the next. In my joints the sinew and membranes that normally reside there had been replaced with poorly constructed iron scaffolding, blazing hot and brittle.

Dehydration caused my eyelids to scrape across my eyes with every blink. I could hear mutinous mutterings from my kidneys regarding what they were viewing as poor treatment, I tried to explain to them that I had no control, once the water was down my throat it was up to stomach and intestines to sort out what went where. I shouldn't be held accountable for the fact that my stomach decided to reject all offered substances without even checking with the other organs.

Don't even get me started on the fact that my testicles felt as if they had been assaulted by a drunken bare knuckle boxer with a grudge against any unborn children I might be brewing.

Just then, as it seemingly cannot get worse, I hear my mother-in-law pull into the driveway. I guess spending two or three days in the fetal position isn't really such a bad way to pass the time.

The Other Half Of My Half Year In Print

After I finished the last post I honestly thought there were 3 or possibly 4 books I hadn't written about yet, as it turns out I was wrong by about half, after gathering the books from beside my bed and between the chairs in the library I came up with a grand total of 8 that I had finished. Add to that the 2 short story collections that I am working my way through (Ray Bradbury and Issac Asimov if you'd like to know) and I figure I am way ahead of my goal. OK enough gloating, on with the reviews!


13. As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
Classics really should be read by more than high school students and Oprah fans. How one would manage to tell a cohesive story using 15 different narrators is beyond me. Each voice is distinct and believable. Yet another author I am looking forward to revisiting.

14. The Creative License by Danny Gregory
Last year I read a book about journaling as a sort of creative manifesto, Amazon thought that I would like this too. Turns out, Amazon is pretty smart. Check out Danny's site for a taste of whats in the book.

15. Watching Baseball Smarter by Zach Hample
As a kid I got in a lot of fights, I was smart enough to be different, but too dumb to keep my mouth shut about it. It always seemed to be jocks that I was getting into tussles with. With that in mind I decided to shun all things sports related. I now realize that mindset is sort of like blaming christianity every time a youth pastor gropes one of his (or her, not trying to be sexist here) young wards. Sports in and of themselves aren't evil, and some can even be fun. Believe it or not this was a revelation to me. Seeing as how I spent the period of my childhood in which most guys learn how all these games work, with my nose buried in a book instead, I am way behind the curve. Being the geek that I am, I of course turn to books to help remedy the situation. I still have no interest in football though. Or basketball.

16. Shopgirl by Steve Martin
Lovely and sweet, Steve displays an understanding for human frailties and the city of Los Angeles that you wouldn't believe if you only know him from movies. Especially his more recent ones.

17. Dancing Barefoot18. Just a Geek by Wil Wheaton
Don't be put off by the whole "Star Trek" thing or the whole "child actor" thing. Wil's writing is smart, funny and endearing. If you read blogs at all, you really should read his, he has a great grasp on the personal narrative structure.

19. On Writing by Stephen King
Have I mentioned that he's one of my favorite scribblers? Part memoir, part writing guide, so if you dig either writing or massively tall novelists this book is for you.

20. Neuromancer by William Gibson
"Hey! You got philosophy in my sci-fi!"
"Hey! You got sci-fi in my philosophy!"
Also, as far as I can tell, this is the birthplace of The Matrix. That, coupled with the fact that Gibson turned in one of my favorite X-Files episodes (Kill Switch) means that I probably should have started reading his works years ago. Oh well, I'll work on that.

Upcoming Books:
From Russia With Love
Lisey's Story
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Anansi Boys
??????????????

Given the fact that at this point I've already ready nearly my expected quota for the year I think I'll up my goal to a book a week on average. Here's to hoping!

Seriously, keep coming back, I'm only going to get better.

My Half Year In Print

Right around the first of the year I came upon several people who had decided to read an average of a book a week this year. That sounded a little too strenuous for me, what with all the child raising and what not, so, I decided on the less demanding goal of a book every two weeks. I also chose not to count books that I read to the kids as bedtime stories, even though we are getting into some classics such as The Little Prince and the Ramona series. Seeing as how were about at the halfway mark for 2007 I figured I would check in and make sure I'm on track. So without further ado here is a quick rundown of the books I've read this year so far.

1. Off Season by Jack Ketchum
I think the second sentence of the Wikipedia article sums up this book better than I could "Praised by such literary icons as Stephen King,^[1] Ketchum has also been condemned by a Village Voice^[2] critic who once dismissed his work as violent pornography." If you know me at all then you shouldn't be surprised to find out that I really loved this book. I cannot however give it a blanket recommendation because I'm pretty sure this kind of thing is not everyones cup of bloody, bloody tea.

2. Paingod and Other Delusions by Harlan Ellison
Ok, I hate to sound like I'm going to heap praise on every book I read but, I did sort of stack the deck by filling the list with books/authors I have been looking forward to visiting for quite a while but hadn't made time for yet. On with the praise heaping- This is brilliant, brilliant stuff. A nice mixture of pulpy sci-fi elements and philosophical ramblings.

3. The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
Seriously, just read it, it's fucking gold.

4. Foundation by Issac Asimov
I've been planning on reading the Foundation series since I was in jr. high I actually started way back when but found it a little intimidating, and quickly moved on to Orson Scott Card and Arthur C. Clark. I enjoyed my short stay in Asimov's universe and am looking forward to returning sometime soon. I really feel unqualified to comment on this particular book very much beyond that as it is part of a much larger (15 friggin books!) work.

5. The King's Evil by Will Heinrich
The Clare Boothe Luce quote "No good deed goes unpunished." kept rattling 'round my brain as I was reading this book. (So much so that I had to go look up who the quote was attributed to .)

6. Casino Royale
7. Live and Let Die
8. Moonraker
9. Diamonds are Forever by Ian Fleming
I got myself this cool megaset last x-mas, having never read a James Bond story and only having seen one movie I decided it was time to jump in whole hog (I also picked up the new DVD sets). Turns out my early elitism was unfounded. I like both the movies and the books, although there are a ton of differences both in events and in tone. The books thus far are mostly a meld of noir conventions with political machinations and gobs of globe trotting thrown in. Lots of meditations on manliness and how cold vodka drinks should be served included as well.

10. The Colorado Kid by Stephen King
One of my all-time favorite writers tackling a noir story? Yes please! He managed to play around with some of the conventions of the noir genre and keep some of his trademarks running through it. I've heard that quite a few people had issues with this one, but I thought that it hummed along quite well. At any rate it was a really short read so if you don't like it its over quickly.

11. Me by Garrison Keillor
Yes, I love A Prairie Home Companion. No, I'm not in my mid 60's. I was apparently wired to enjoy folksy down home humor, along with my buckets of blood, and dames to kill for.

12. The Road by Cormac McCarthy
Ok, fine, McCarthy was suggested to me a couple of years ago by an acquaintance, then, yes I also heard that the Coen brothers were adapting one of his books for a movie, and no, I didn't read one of his damn novels until Oprah said it was ok. Call me a pussy if you must but I am really glad I caught up with this. By turns heart wrenching and terrifying, what more could you ask for really? Don't be put off my it's experimental nature, it's worth the (slight) learning curve.

I do have at least a few more books I've finished since the beginning of the year, look for my thoughts on those and my planned reading list for the remainder of 2007 in the next day or so.

DCP_1318

DCP_1318
Originally uploaded by spartickes.

lomo090

lomo090
Originally uploaded by spartickes.

Studs!

Studs!
Originally uploaded by spartickes.

That's Just How That Bird Sings

The main reason I don't write on here very often is the fact that I am a perfectionist. I feel this innate need to cover every aspect of whatever I am discussing, which often results in many asides, tangents and possibly even footnotes. Go to the bookstore and pick up a copy of House of Leaves, you'll see the kind of thing I'm talking about. Now, in order to make myself more productive I am hereby giving myself a pass. I'm sure that it would help you see where I'm coming from if I describe in detail my entire childhood, but it's not really needed and I am going to just have to accept that. At this point I actually want to ramble on and on about procrastination versus writers block and the article that I read that gave me this whole idea but, I won't. Thank you for listening.

A Marathon of Heartbreaking Moments

I was going to try to sit down and write a nice, normal, academic review of Steven Soderburgh's new film "Bubble". However, I can't. Instead of a well thought out treatise on the nature of the cinematography and the effectiveness of the spare Elliot Smith-like score I just keep coming back to the fact that I know these people. Not "know" them in the sense that we hold hands and take windy walks together, but KNOW them from a shared history. Perhaps an example will help: about 10 minutes into the film there is a scene where two people sit in a dingy break room, eat fast food and talk about nothing. Their voices hold no emotion, their faces are slack and vacant. These are people beaten down by the fact they are not living but merely surviving. They, however, don't acknowledge or even understand this fact. The thing is I've sat in break rooms just like that one, in factories just like that one, heard conversations just like that one. There is no artifice in this art. The sad truth is in these places life is bleak, boring, and hard. There seems to be a consensus among the media that a life of manual labor breeds quiet, contemplative people who see beauty in the mundane and irony in their own situation. That they somehow understand their role in society and choose to continue filling it. Either that or they are full of passion and dreams that they hate their repressive lives and are going to use their talents to escape the cycle of poverty that everyone around them has accepted. Neither of these romantic views are true though, they are both condescending to an entire class of working poor.

Until 6 years ago that was my life, I had resigned myself to it and accepted it. Then when I least expected it (that's always the way it is right?)(but really it was when I LEAST expected it) I met the woman who changed everything for me.

I seem to be rambling further and further down the emotional road. Maybe I can go back and watch the movie again and come back to write a review that would actually support my stance that this is an challenging, insightful, and amazing movie. Something a little less gut-level-navel-gazey is in order I think.

Lomo-riffic

I got Mari a Colorsplash Camera for Xmas this year and we've been having quite a bit of fun with it's quirky photo-goodness. It has different colored gels that you can dial up in front of the flash to create funky hued family photos. It also allows you to mess with exposure times and double exposing the film. All in a little point n' shoot body.

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Well, well, well, what have we here?

Ok lets see what's happened since last we spoke. What was it now, it seems like there was something. Oh yeah!

Introducing Keira Bryce Ickes!

Notes from the underground

Ok, so I told some people I'd be updating soon, but not much of interest has been going on so I shall just write down some random musings.

I feel bad for Merlin, you know, Cougars' RIO? Just because Cougar washed out Merlin loses his spot at the academy to Anthony Edwards.

I believe I passed some sort of geek barrier when I used the phrase "It's dot com!" in a conversation.

The song God Only Knows pretty much validates The Beach Boys entire existance. That song is so good it's scary. For extra fun try the cover version by Claudine Longet.

It took me 4 years to watch a single episode but I'm pretty sure that CSI is now one of my favorite shows ever.

On a somewhat related note, if you get a chance check out the first season of The Shield, the last five minutes of the pilot are flawless. I was hooked from that point on.

Moving sucks. Period.

Dear Coffee,
I love you, but why do you have to be so hot? Thank you for keeping me up until 4 in the morning so I can write this post!

Hey, Patrick Paulson and Michael John Warren, come here for a second. Ok, Fade to Black isn't The Last Waltz, no matter how much you want it to be. He didn't even retire, and don't give me that "ending of one phase" crap.

To fully appreciate this post you either have to be me, or do some research. Either way, I'm gonna go watch Dean tell Rory that he's building her a car.

...so I played,

and it was amazing. Somehow in the last five years I had forgotten the pure joy of playing soccer. Just giving yourself over to playing. The second you stop thinking and start doing. Soccer has to be one of the most Zen of all sports, forcing you to constantly be "in the moment".

My body slicked with sweat, legs pumping, moving the ball down the field. A wall of defenders hurtling towards me.
"Break through! Break through!'
I kick the ball towards one of the few openings I see and jump, jump, jump, over the tangle of legs, landing with just enough time to pass the ball before the defenders are on me, over me, past me, onto the ball again.
"Good job!"
Yelled in passing, a pat on the back, and were off, chasing, seeking, looking, doing.

Most Popular Sport in the World

This entry is dedicated to Holli and Mark. Separately, because they've never met.
Mark plays soccer in a local adult league. Holli plays soccer, well, everywhere. I played soccer a little bit, a few years ago, hardly enough to mention.
After talking to Mark I decided that I need to play this fall, in one of the leagues around town. I got some new boots and started braking them in. I thought a nice light jog would do that well. I left my house, jogged down the hill and across random peoples lawns (they didn't seem to mind really). I decided to jog around the outer edge of the mall parking lot, nice wide flat stretch of grass to run on. As I rounded the far side of the mall, I heard a sound coming from up above me, high on a hill. I looked left, right, and then jumped the fence that separates the mall grounds from whatever wooly wilds lay beyond. I trudged up the hill, through bushes, sticks, and briers. I emerged from the overgrown foliage onto a soccer field. Actually two soccer fields. I was in awe. There were dozens of children ranging from grade school to high school running drills. A coach made his way over to me and asked if I wanted to train with the high school boys, they could use another man. I declined. He took this as modesty and said "Well, there's a pretty serious game across the street at the main fields." (Main fields? I didn't know Bellevue had ANY fields.) "Come back sometime if you wanna' help out though." Not wanting to look like an idiot I headed out the main drive and across the street. Walking up to the pitch I was scared. Standing on the sideline I was scared. When the man first asked me "You sub blue?" I was terrified. He came to the side line and asked "Why you don't wanna' play?" I responded that I was no good.
"You want to know how get better?"
"Yes."
"Then play."
He grinned at me and ran back onto the pitch. A few minutes later he ran off the field and stood beside me panting.
"You play now."
"But..."
"Play."
So I played.

Just the two of us

Studs!
Originally uploaded by spartickes.

Tea In the Sahara

Holy crap. Holy crap and wow. In one week I finished my biggest project yet and screened my first short for a group of strangers.

The big project was filming and editing a half hour comedy special that took place at The Belcourt Theatre. It was a great show and I'm really happy with the way the DVD turned out. Many thanks to Matt Sterling and Jonathan Richter for the animation and advice.

Notice that I said I FINISHED my biggest project to date, I still have a HUGE FRIGGEN' project with Joe Southards thats due at the end of the month.

The short was shown as part of a sketch comedy show that took place at Bongo Java(whose site is down otherwise I'd give 'em a friendly link). Actually I got to show three things I've been working on: a commerical for Nashvillestandup.com, a mock news feed featuring the aforementioned Joe Southards, and an "anti-drug" PSA, concieved by Damian Anaya, who was also my editing partner for that bit. I will try to get the commerical and the PSA online soon so my adoring fan can fawn over it. The show itself was solid and I recieved great responses on my material. Once again many thanks go out to Matt Sterling, for the projector and screen and many bloody laughs.

Umm also just like his daddy?

Crazed Baben!
Originally uploaded by spartickes.

My son needs to eat WAYYY less sugar.

Just like his daddy

He's a rocker, he rocks out
Originally uploaded by spartickes.

Just someone to listen to stories I tell.

See, sometimes, it's the telling of the story that matters. That's where change starts. It's not the reaction, not the response. It's the telling that often contains the magic. Stories are things that love to be told. They also love to be heard, but to ever have that chance they have to first be told. I love them. I have devoted the majority of my life to them, through film, photographs, song, paint, and pencil I have told them. You use what tools you know but they must be told. I have fallen in love with people I've never met. I've danced in halls that never existed. I have been privy to events that shake my soul and shape my beliefs. It can be Arthur Conan Doyle or The Bible, I believe with all my heart that stories make life worth living. Sondheim and Soderbergh, Neil Jordan to Neil Gaiman, these people and thousands more taught me about life, love, and, how to be a better person. How else could we share our lives with others? Real, make-believe, it doesn't matter. On a screen 40 feet high or around a table in a diner with friends. Truth and fiction both can teach us about real life. Telling the story often makes us feel better, taking our thoughts and experiences, organizing them, and, throwing them into the world is freeing. Much like this short essay which I now offer to you. It all starts with the telling. The telling helps. Sometimes, it's the telling of the story that matters.

Stories I Tell-- Toad The Wet Sprocket

Don't give me answers for I would refuse
"yes" is a word for which I have no use
And I wasn't looking for heaven or hell
Just someone to listen to stories I tell

Now what is a blessing and what is a dream
Caught between portraits and none's what it seems
And why is it people expect there's a change
When I feel I'm a part of something I can't see
I feel the same

Now don't ask me questions or I will retreat
Fame is a cancer and ego its seed
Now I wasn't looking for heaven or hell
Just someone to listen to stories I tell

Do we ever wonder?
And do you ever care...

Subtle salvation in poems we know
Hiding our heads in a shadow of home
Now I wasn't looking for wreaths or for bells
Just someone to listen to stories I tell
Stories I tell

My possessions are causing me suspicion

The M. Night Shyamalan documentary is a hoax, there is no buried secret, it's just a stunt to build publicity for The Village, his upcoming movie. I for one think it's a cool idea. I was always interested in Orson Welles' "War of the Worlds" and I think this is an evoloution of that. Apparently a lot of people view it as "untrustworthy" because it was marketed as a real documentary rather than a publicity piece. It just amazes me, that in this age of "reality" shows people are getting mad about this stunt.

Ok go check out the website for Garden State. Spend some time there, check out both trailers, read Zach's blog, find the hidden footage. I know I've mentioned this one before but it looks amazing.

Ok, I'm trying to figure out how to get pictures up on this thing so expect that later on tonight, or tomorrow, depending on how lazy I am!

New Slang

I filmed a one man show last night at a bar called Hair of the Dog. I'm not sure if you've ever seen anything like this before. It was truly amazing to see someone perform an hour and twelve minutes of stand up bits interspersed with longer stories. The crowd was very attentive and respoded well. The performer Craig Smith is also the organizer of Nashville Standup's Mock the Vote campaign, which is registering voters at several local comedy shows.

After the show a bunch of people walked over to Craig's house (which is about two blocks away). On the way there we kept passing cd cases that had been thrown on the sidewalk, with the booklets and rear inserts still in them, but alas, no actual cds remained. After passing Journey, Joan Osbourne, and Eagles (Hotel Califorina! Damn heathens!) we stumbled across Janis Joplin's Greatest Hits which for some reason struck the fancy of Craig's girlfriend and it was decided that she would take it home with her. This struck me as odd, as I know that they have that cd with a fine looking case within the ranks of their audio entertainment. For the remainder of the evening she would not inform me as to the expected fate of said case and inserts. I can only hope she will be using it as part of an art project that reveals to the viewer the dangers that come in the form of THE GREATEST HIT ALBUM!