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2012

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Is it the end of the world as we know it? And do I feel fine? Do you? Does anyone? I have been watching a lot of shows on the cable about the Mayan calendar, end of days, and all that- and I sometimes wonder: What if the world does end in 2012? What does that mean to me, right here and now?
Well, first off- I think that would suck, because even if I got a script sold and a movie was made from it and I won an Oscar- I'd only have a year or less to enjoy the good life- the money, the accolades, the travel. You know, all that stuff we all think about when we buy that lottery ticket. Wouldn't it suck to finally have that dream come true, just in time to look up and see a massive tidal wave crashing over the Rockies? Or a fleet of invading ships from Planet X? I mean it- the end of the world would really be a drag for my personal goals. So, I think, on top of writing every day, sending out query letters, entering contests for writers, and all that- I am going to try and d…

RIDDLE LOST

Okay. So I've been busy, writing lots of stuff- new short play, new long play, new screenplay-Busy Busy Busy. Now it's time to hear feedback. I've decided to put part of new play on blog. See what people think. If they dig it, groovy. The New play is titled "Riddle Lost". Here is first few pages.
AN OPEN SIDE-SHOW TENT IN THE MIDDLE OF A CARNIVAL MIDWAY. INSIDE, A TABLE WITH A CRYSTAL BALL; OTHER TABLES AND SHELVES ARE FULL OF: ICONS- MYSTICAL, RELIGIOUS, AND CULTURAL; RELICS OF THE OLD WEST; AND ARTIFACTS OF VARIOUS NATIVE AMERICAN CULTURES. A PHANTASMAGORIC WILD WEST SHOW ATMOSPHERE FILLS THE ROOM. AGAINST THE BACK WALL IS AN OLD STYLE CIGAR STORE INDIAN. HEL, NORSE GODDESS OF DEATH, SITS AT THE TABLE, HUNCHED OVER A DECK OF TAROT CARDS. A LONG BLACK VEIL COVERS HER FACE. SUDDENLY, SHE SITS UP. JEFFERSON RIDDLE ENTERS.
RIDDLE Excuse me, miss?
Hel does not move. Riddle politely waits for her to answer.
RIDDLE (cont’d) Hello?
He looks around the room, p…

We can, and we will!

Ah, election season. Time for commercial after commercial with really over dramatic music, slo mo shots of the opposition that fade to black and white while an ominous voice tells us the end is nigh, and the disclaimer about how so-and-so approves of this ad. Yippee.
And along with that, the time honored tradition of complaining about it. It's really kind of amazing, when you step back and look at the bigger picture. We live in the land of opportunity, we really do- but somehow, most of us think it an affront to our way of life to have to listen to ads for a political candidate or initiative. For some reason, ads for politics piss us off. We can take ads for beer, fast food, oil, you name it- but not politics. Oh, we hate those ads. Maybe it's me- but I've heard more people complain about political ads than about all those public relations ads BP has been running for ever, trying to convince us that they love the Gulf of Mexico and all it's inhabitants. Why? …

Query

So. I am at that point where I need to get some West Coast representation. Which means, I am at that point where I have to write query letters, seek out old connections, old friends, new friends, and so on.
Wahoo.
Something about trying to find someone to represent me just kind of sucks. I mean, don't we all just want to have people knock on our door, with a bag of money over their shoulders, and say "Hi, I'm here to announce that your ship has come in, you have finally been discovered, and all your troubles are over. Here is a large amount of cash to start you off. See you soon. Enjoy your new life of wonderment."
Is that so much to ask for?
It's not like I don't have some credentials. I have written several plays that have been produced, published, and all that. I've won awards for writing, and have been translated into Czech. I even had a guy who worked development out in Hollywood who somehow got a hold of one of my plays, read it, and called…

Facebook of the Dead

I have dead people on my Facebook. It just sort of happened in the way things like this always happen, I suppose. People I know died. First one, then another...the slow parade of the lost. It's a strange feeling, looking at a page for someone who has shuffled off this mortal coil. There they are, smiling at the camera, alive and kicking, part of the ether, part of the web wide population, but at the same time gone past forever.
Sometimes, on the space where it suggests getting in contact with people I haven't talked to in awhile, Facebook tells me I should contact one of the dead- but there are no instructions on how to do that. Face the clouds and pray? Should I write of their wall? Maybe send an instant message saying " OMG, how r u & what's it like up there?" Is there a way to twitter a ghost?
Usually, when the "get in touch with them" directive pops up on my Facebook page, I chuckle, then grow sad. Because I would like to get in …

Peanuts and Crackerjacks

Baseball season has begun, and all is well in the land. I love baseball. I love everything about it. I love baseball movies, baseball jerseys, baseballs hats. I even play the soundtrack to The Natural when I do the dishes after dinner. It's magic. Don't ask me why, because I don't really know, but there is something about the game that is different- at least for me- than all the other sports we like to watch, play, and pay a small amount of people incredible amounts of money to play on the professional level.
I'm a Yankee fan, and a Giants fan. The Giants were my father's team, and his father's team. To the day he died, he could name the line up for the Giants for year I was born, the year my brother was born, and the year my sister was born. I wish he could have seen them win the World Series once before he died, but it was not in the cards. The Giants are a team of hope- of dreams not yet realized, and perhaps that's where their magic lies. …

I have a time machine in my kitchen

It's true. It's on right now, and the portals of time have opened wide. Time it was and what a time it was, it was, a time of innocence. A time of confidences. I am, right now, sitting in a van stuffed full of my fellow Blackford High Schoolers, and we are heading North to Canada to backpack for a week. The floor of the van is really warm, and Kim has just informed me that the only reason Tom and I love the song The Boxer is because it has the word "whores" in it. And I blink my eyes, the machine does its thing and... I am skipping down Fifth Ave. in NYC, and I am in love, and I am singing into my cell phone, and I don't care who hears me, and all is well. And I go upstairs a few minutes ago which is also right now, because time has liquefied this morning, and I am watching some movie with Drew Barrymore and I am also in the airport in Fairbanks, Alaska meeting my father for the first time in my grown up life, and I am heading back to the airport three weeks…

The Soul Is Like a Shark

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There's a great scene in Annie Hall where Woody Allen likens a relationship to a shark- if it doesn't keep moving, it dies. I think the same is true of our souls. We must keep moving, growing, trying new things- or we slump over and die, and join the living dead. Fortunately, this zombie-fication is not permanent, and there are many quasi- voo doo rituals that can restore us. A trip to India, planting flowers, learning a new language. The list is infinite and groovy and unique to each of us.

I ponder all this because of my buddy Jack, who is painting again, after many years. Hooray. He's even presenting some of his art to the public. Double Hooray. It's been something like fifteen years since he last delved into the waters, and I am vicariously thrilled.
Jack was my room mate many moons ago in the magic land of Salinas. Salinas? Si, Salinas. We lived the Bohemian life with our fellow room mate Greg- and we were always short on money but never short on in…

March Fourth, the only day that's also a sentence

So. What's been happening since last I posted? There is this weird guilt thing that goes with having a blog- it goes something like this. "My goodness, I haven't posted in a while. I should do that. I feel bad." This is followed by many thoughts on what to blog about. "I know, I'll give them my take on healthcare!". The blog gets plotted out in my mind. Oh, the wit! The brilliance of it all. Then, somehow, an hour has passed and I have to go tend to other things like paying bills and walking the dog, and teaching my classes. A day or week goes by, and no blog. Then I think, "My goodness, I still haven't posted!", and the vicious cycle continues.
Well, Hell with that. I write when I write, and if there are months in between, so be it.
So, a quick update on all things me- and yes, I do think the world revolves around me, just like you think the world revolves around you. We are all our own little universes, aren't we?
Ther…