The End.

I know I neglected to mention the passing of Harvey Korman, but there were already a lot of beautiful tributes out there, including the one on Lisa's blog.

Had Raechelle over for movies last night. We walked around Westwood to look at shoes for her "ensemble" and a gift for the bridal shower she's going to. Got some pizza from Giannoni's, came back and watched Star Wars, which, until last night, she'd never seen. Followed it up with So I Married an Axe Murderer (strangely enough, not a bad date movie), and more discussion until late.

The kids and I are off to Bellingham today for our May Birthday celebration. Because so many of us have birthdays in May, my family gets together to celebrate on one day. I kick off the month, followed by Tyler, my stepdad Bob, then sister Sara and grandmother Dorothy (both on the same day). Caleb is going to hang out with us (since he's still in Bellingham for another couple months). Looking forward to some family time.

More plans tonight... and that's about it for Rhymes With Drowning. It's been a good experience for me, a healing and educational experience, and I hope my journey has touched others in a positive way.

Thanks to everybody for your readership, your support, your wonderful comments and emails. Not everybody processes externally, but I have found that when I do, it keeps me honest - with myself and others. Hopefully the first post over at Life 2.0 will be interesting, and not just "walked to the store for milk... prices high..." But I've learned not to rush to the destination, no matter where and what it is. There are lessons to be learned and great joy to be shared along the journey.

Peace.

Dear Pop

Here we are, three years to the day since I last heard your voice. Three years since I called you in UW Hospital to tell you about our canine acquisition, Wiley. Three years since I told you I loved you without having to say it to an empty room.

A lot has happened in those three years, Dad. Much of it is documented here. The end result is that the firstborn son that you once carried around Europe in a backpack, the kid you did Cub Scouts and YMCA Indian Guides with, the boy you taught to be a man, is doing just fine. You would love that I'm back to working in my chosen field, which you once invested in by helping me finish my first film. You would be amazed at the growth and maturity in your grandchildren. You would celebrate the huge leaps ahead in my own emotional evolution.

You would be proud of me, Dad.

You ARE proud of me.

I think about you every day, and although you're not here physically to share my joys and my darkness, I can feel your presence in those quieter moments. After all, energy never dies; it just changes form.

Now as I'm about to close, I have my '70s playlist going (as it reminds me most of growing up with you). And wouldn't you know it, Three Dog Night's "One" just came on. You're a funny guy, Pop.

Be well.

A State of Mind

So in reading Raechelle's post about Free Ballard Day ("Uff da!"), I learned a lot about our Nordic immigrant cousins across Elliott Bay. It also led me to the West Seattle entry at the same site, and what I found made me laugh. The opening sentence reads:

West Seattle -- the oldest and the biggest of Seattle’s neighborhoods -- is both a peninsula and a state of mind.

Heh heh. Yeah. Yeah, I'd have to agree with that.

STIFF Reminder

If you are in the Seattle area and want to come check out some bleeding edge films, you can buy tickets online for certain features and film blocks. Ordinary Angels plays with the feature Sullen, and the descriptively titled Jack the Vomiter. Should be interesting!

A Respectful Request

It's always been my opinion that life tends to throw enough drama at you that you're better off not creating your own. Of course, when two active bloggers with established readerships find themselves in a dating situation, it is inevitable that there will be crossover. One blogger's posse will go check out the other blogger, out of voyeuristic thrill, protective instinct or just simple curiosity. And while that's all fine and dandy, there is also the potential for misunderstanding or inappropriate commentary. And that can put pressure on a situation that certainly doesn't benefit from more pressure.

So I would just like to acknowledge the wonderful and loving support of my readers - and ask them not to make overly familiar or inappropriate comments on Raechelle's blog (or mine). My email address is easily obtained, and I'd love to hear from you in that medium.

Edit: This is not directed at the moms. :-)

Grace is Gone

Wow. I would not have been able to handle this film a year or two ago. Wow.

Can I just say, John Cusack is the MAN. I've seen him do romantic comedy. I've seen him do madcap. I've seen him do film noir and historicals and action and even thriller/horror. But I've really never seen him do a small, personal, heavy drama. And man, does he ever pull it off. There is nothing he can't do!

It's an incredibly simple premise: an ex-Army father of two girls (8 and 12) receives the news that his wife has been killed serving in Iraq. And that's where the film starts. I won't say any more of the plot, only to say that the film is an amazing portrait of grief, denial, and family dynamics. The one thing that got to me was the father's character quirk of constantly calling the home answering machine, just to hear the wife's voice.

I used to do that. Sam's voice was on our cell phone's outgoing greeting for a couple months, until I "accidentally" erased it and forced myself to step up and record my own.

And, interestingly enough, as I was watching Cusack run through the gamut of painful emotion, and although it did resonate with my own experience, I felt more pity for the character than any pain in myself. More a sense of "Oh yeah... I remember that. Poor guy."

Yeah, this shift is a REALLY good thing.

Speaking of which, I had lunch with Raechelle today. Took some sandwiches by her office and we walked down to Lake Union and sat on some park benches, had ourselves a Cameron Crowe/Nora Ephron scene. Joked about collaborating on a screenplay someday. Hmmmm.

Chores and work are both piling up. I feel like I was productive overall, but even with so many projects crossed off the list, more gets added to the bottom. It's always the way.

Well Crap.

Sydney Pollack just died.

Cancer.

Like we have enough good directors to spare.

Crap.

Fated to Make It

That's the actual title of my horoscope today. Fated to Make It. Awesome.

In other news, something major has shaken loose in my life. As can be surmised by my last few posts, I'm no longer in the thick fog of grief. I'm no longer acutely feeling the pangs of separation from Sam & my dad. And although it would be foolish to think I would never feel a wave now and then, it is very obvious to me that I've learned how to stay afloat and even swim.

I'm no longer drowning.

It's not just the potential in a new relationship. It's not just a hand-wave and "time heals all wounds". It's not that. Something major has shifted, and that's the best I can describe it. An old door has closed and a new one opened, and my second life lies ahead. Personally and professionally - it's all ahead now.

I know a lot of my readership comes from links from various locations in the widowed community, and my comment forms and email inbox is a testament to how useful this blog has been to them (as well as therapy for me), and I want to thank everyone for their love and support and occasional indulgence while I very publicly navigated three years of intense grief and trauma. Some would never keep such a public account of so personal an experience, but I believe in helping others by example whenever possible.

I am not leaving the blogosphere, but neither am I defined by my losses or my grief. To do so would yield too much power to unworthy influences. But Rhymes With Drowning has clearly arrived at its final destination. I will update through the end of May.

Starting in June (after the three-year marker of my dad's death), I'm launching the Life 2.0 blog to document this new existence and keep family and friends up to date. Thank you all for supporting Rhymes With Drowning, and feel free to link to Life 2.0 when it goes live in June.

And if any publishers want to talk to me regarding the grief experiences of a young widower and the string of events that followed, I'm at todd(at)deep7(dot)com.

Peace.

Memorial Day

Well.

Deep subject.

Took the kids to see Indy 4 on Sunday afternoon. Meh. I don't even have the energy to point out everything that was lacking, so I'll just leave it at "meh".

Raechelle came out to dinner on Sunday evening with the kids, and was a big hit all around. I showed her the DVD from the Deathtrap production, and she enjoyed seeing Trish and Raff, people she knows in casual company, on stage doing what they do. She'd never seen Young Frankenstein, so that was a must. She was all over it. Plus a bottle of wine and much conversation equals a great evening.

This morning I took Kayleigh to get a swimsuit and picked up a few T-shirts in XL, as my clothes are starting to get baggy on me. Tyler went to Gavin's to hang out some more (by choice), and I took Kayleigh up to hang with Katherine in Ballard which, luckily, is where Raechelle lives. So we were able to have lunch at Jai Thai in the Fremont, followed by a quick trip into the local PCC, followed by hanging out and conversing until mid-afternoon.

Got to meet Raechelle's good friend Jamie (a total sweetheart, unsurprisingly). I think I made a good impression - always good to get the best friends in one's corner, ya know. Because she's going into oncology radiology, we had some technical stuff to talk about, as well as general pop culture. It was too brief, but a good start. Picked up Kayleigh, and Raechelle joined us for dinner at the Hi-Life (the Ballard sister restaurant to Endolyne Joe's in West Seattle). Picked up Tyler at Gavin's and settled into school night mellowness.

I had a GREAT weekend. (many smileys)

Great Weekend So Far...

It didn't start out so nice, however. Tyler and I had a marathon argument on Friday that escalated to the point that I had to take him to Gavin's again, so the two of us could cool off. He spent the night at Gavin's while I made a huge pot of spaghetti, garlic bread, and garden salad for Dan, Trish, Raff, Kayleigh and Raechelle (the artist formerly known as RM). There may have been wine involved as well. A screening of The Specials and Free Enterprise later, and everybody went home happy.

Saturday began with lovely sunny weather. I haven't been sleeping much past 6AM recently (regardless of what time I go to bed), so I came up and watched Gone Baby Gone, which I've had sitting around in its Netflix envelope for two weeks. I found the cast to be top-notch, the story compelling, the script strong (in my opinion, where Ben Affleck excels), and the direction (Affleck again) steady and controlled.

Once Kayleigh was up and I'd grabbed a shower, we took a change of clothes over to Tyler, and I offered to pick him up. He wanted to hang out at Gavin's some more, so K and I went down to Alki for lunch. We hung out on the cement wall and watched people flirt with the water at low tide. Folklife is happening this weekend, so it was a rare sunny Saturday with low traffic at Alki. And I found the perfect parking spot right in front of Tully's. The perfect base camp for all your Alki journeys.

Lunch at The Celtic Swell, and back home to drop Wiley off for a playdate with Darlene's pair of fuzzy children, Luna and Blue. Came home and crashed for an hour, picked up Wiley, played some guitar, crashed again for another quick nap (don't start with the "old man" thing - I'm not sleeping at night, so I have to make it up somehow).

Had plans to meet Raechelle on Cap Hill for a movie and dinner. Threw on a freshly washed pair of Levis from the dryer (usually I have to skin them on and wiggle around to stretch them out), and found them hanging off me. Did up my belt to the last notch and they still were hanging. All my XXL T-shirts I used to fill out are now tents. Maybe quitting the gym was the best thing I could have done, because it's kicked my ass into being more active in general. I sense a summer clothing excursion coming up.

Anyway, met up with Raechelle, had a lovely dinner at the grill around the corner from the Harvard Exit. Went and saw The Visitor. Fantastic film. Go see it now.

And here's where it gets interesting for you, the reader. She's a blogger. I'm a blogger. We haven't set down the guidelines yet, but I'm sure you're in for a fascinating read.

At this point, I will just say I feel hopeful. Truly hopeful, on an emotional level. More than I have in a long time. And although the armor is nowhere near 100% shed at this point... well... I feel hopeful. 'Nuff said.

Robert Asprin, RIP

Just found out last night that Robert Asprin, author of the Myth Adventures comedy-fantasy novels and creator of Thieves World, has gone to the Great Writer's Group in the Sky. I only knew him from the Myth Adventures books, but his work was a staple in sci-fi/fantasy circles. He was a gifted author with a razor-sharp wit.

As was said on my industry email list, "he will be mythed."

Script Doctor

Busted my butt yesterday to crank out a draft of the short we're doing with Gigi, handed it off feeling pretty good about where it stood. There's always a balancing act between the notes which contain the full spectrum of emotional experience and a script, which should only convey that which is visible or audible. I'm finding my college Screenwriting 101 coming in very handy right now.

Went up to Ballard, dropped the kids off at Katherine's to get some early season swimming in, and went to dinner at Señor Moose, a little authentic Mexican café that features a gluten-free menu. The food was amazing, and I must say the scenery was exquisite. Had some sangria and enchiladas de la plaza. Took home half for lunch today.

Came home to an inbox full of script notes, which I'm sorting through today, between sorting out some financials and cleaning my house for movie night. I think Life of Brian is on tap.

Memorial Day Weekend is here. Plan to catch a couple of movies in release: The Visitor (which Dan Heinrich raved about) and of course, taking the kids to Indy. Karen Allen is back, which is a big reason I'm going - Marion Ravenswood is a great character and easily the best Indy girl ever. And THAT'S not hyperbole. She was the only female character in the series to equal Indiana Jones in courage and, dare I say, moxie.

Have a great long weekend! I'll leave you with this...

Visigoths?

I reiterate my previous offer to sell my children to any marauding Visigoth war bands. Or Vikings. Gypsies are so last year.

It started the moment Kayleigh got home from school (2-hour early dismissal), when she and Tyler just locked horns out of nowhere and would not stop baiting and provoking each other. It ended with Kayleigh sobbing on the couch and Tyler doing his emo fuming thing. Then off to counseling, then still more drama with Tyler, which resulted in his removal to Uncle Gavin's house. A quiet evening with Kayleigh doing her school report on Helen Keller and me venting to a few friends on the phone. Just before bedtime, a very contrite Tyler was delivered home.

I was supposed to work on the Gigi script yesterday, but with early dismissal for Kayleigh paving the way for early chaos at home, it didn't get touched. Today, I swear. And I'm gonna reward myself by letting a friend take me to dinner and let the kids have some grandma time with Katherine.

So there.

* * *

And from the "hmmmm" pile:

Ever notice how the opening riff from Nirvana's "Come As You Are" is exactly the same as Killing Joke's "Eighties"? Apparently there was litigation.

Skin that Smokewagon

"Skin that smokewagon and see what happens..." - Kurt Russell, Tombstone

If you read the comments about two posts down, you'll see a friendly jousting match between myself and Dan Heinrich. Apparently my hyperbolic comment about the film Tombstone as "one of the best American movies ever made" tripped something in his brain, and he brought some cinema fu on my ass. He thinks he won by getting a qualifier, I think I won by proving my superior westernology - in reality, it's probably a draw. Get it? A draw. Because they're cowboys. With guns.

The exchange is an entertaining capsule of what film geeks do. Given what I know of other circles of geekery (whether it be football, NASCAR or knitting), it's really no different.

And although I will concede my original hyperbole (having qualified it as "one of the best American WESTERNS"), I will still say this: Kane, Waterfront, Godfather... they may be technically superior films - and I love them, but I'm a lot more likely to pop Tombstone in the DVD player on a given night. And its production design belongs up there with the greats.

Where we seem to agree is on the gem that is Silverado, but that's tons of fun because of a great cast doing a witty (and completely anachronistic) script, written and directed by Larry Kasdan. For popcorn western fun, Silverado, hands down. For historically accurate western drama, it's still Tombstone.

Don't get me started on film noir or swashbucklers...

Proud Pop

Kayleigh performed in her spring concert tonight. She's in advanced band after only a year and a summer of prior instruction, a consummate clarinetist. The program was all over the road, from the beginning students doing the requisite Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to the advanced string ensemble doing some really nice arrangements.

Ooh, and look what we saw in the Subway parking lot on our way to school... sweet ride, no? I hate to think how much the owner is paying for gas right now, but it's beautiful nonetheless. I thought it was funny that the license plate says TRUBL, and I was wearing my TROUBLE FINDS ME T-shirt.

More drama with Tyler. I'm so tired of it.

Another Monday

And I've got Traspassers William cranked in the office. They're like Mazzy Star on Quaaludes. Good waking up music when you're not quite sure how to approach the day.

Yesterday began as most Sundays do: with a great coffee chat at the Westwood Barnes & Noble with photographer buddy (and former business partner twice over) Ron. We usually cover movies & other media first, then get into the meaty topics of politics & religion. On the political front, Ron is the moderate conservative to my moderate liberal, the Adams to my Jefferson. Every week is an amazing conversation filled with witty banter and earnest debate, and it never devolves into name-calling or poo-flinging. It's like the 21st Century version of the old pre-Revolution pub debates. Interestingly, maybe 8 times out of 10 we come to a consensus, and have repeatedly solved the world's problems over coffee and a bagel. Alas, nobody from the federal government has called to consult with us. More's the pity; we'd be out of the Middle East and driving electric cars by now if they did.

That's right. I just used a semicolon.

Got home in time to say hi to Mike Berg (the bass player on the Requiem CD) as he arrived to pick up his daughter. Found my guitar tuner, which had gone missing for several weeks. Maybe on holiday in Aruba. Looked for my capo, but now that's gone missing. I think maybe the capo and the tuner are in cahoots. I don't know what cahoots are, but I think they are in them. Or they are in fact the same piece of equipment and morph at will. That's pretty disturbing. Played guitar for half an hour until Trish and Dan showed up. Trish cooked a seafood stew with Kayleigh while Dan and I went up to Northgate for a very long but productive Duo budget meeting. Outside. With beer.

Came home and Made sure Miles got picked up, chatted with his mom for a minute. Talked with RM on the phone, then called my stepdad to wish him a happy birthday. Nobody home. Sang off-key and left a lovely voicemail. Cooked up pasta and Caesar salad with the kids.

When the kids were in bed and all was quiet (and I should have retired to my own room), instead I opened Photoshop and started working on the new Duo poster. The original file died on one of the melted hard drives in the fire, so I have to completely reconstruct it from visual reference of the old version. Next weekend, Ron is coming over to shoot stills of Eric Riedmann and Devielle Johnson, which I will insert in place of the real Steve & JD.

Collapsed in bed about midnight, wide awake at 6.

Dammit.

And now Tyler's back to fighting about school. Sigh.

Prolific AND Handy

What's up with the multiple posts?? My friends will have a hell of a time catching up. Well, at least it's better than too few posts, and that will happen when Duo goes into production. For the time being, I can afford to be a bit prolific in my blogging, especially since so much seems to be happening.

While Tyler and his buds were playing videogames on the big screen, I finished the job I started yesterday by attacking the yard with the mower. West Seattle is really the only neighborhood left with these big lots, a selling point when we originally bought the house. But as I've found, you pay for a large yard in sweat. There was a time when I hated to do yardwork. Now I don't mind so much. Gets me outdoors for a bit, works up an honest sweat, and greatly improves the look and functionality of my property.

Our lot is about 9200sf, and the house footprint only takes up 1100sf of that. Most of the rest, dear readers, is yard. Front, back, side. Muchas grassy-ass. Fortunately, I had the testosterone-laden soundtrack of the workout playlist on my phone, which sure as hell beats the drone of the mower. Kayleigh also came outside with her mp3 device, so we were at least somewhat present in the same space, if not on the same aural bandwidth.

When I was done, I grabbed a mandatory shower and did cake with the birthday boy (good Lord, I'm now the father of a 14 year old), his friends Miles & Philip, and Kayleigh. I should really say they did cake and I was present for it. I haven't been eating much the past few days, and what I have eaten has found a way to rebel against my GI tract. I don't think it's a bug. Might be stress induced.

Anyway, the party disbanded and I was able to grab a quick nap (after being awakened at 4:30 AM by another dream and killing time until I had to take Gavin & Michelle to the airport at 6:30). Got up, played some guitar. Kayleigh wants to record some more, and has requested to do a cover of "Forest of Dreams", our first ATF single. While that's all very well and good, the song was originally composed on the piano, and I'd never really arranged a guitar version. So once that was sorted out, it sounded smooth. When she was done practicing "Forest of Dreams", I strummed out a few covers of euro-folk favorites, including this, and this. Which reminds me, I need to replace this CD which died a horrible fiery death back in February 2006, and is in fact one of my Desert Island Discs. The arrangement of "Forbidden Colours" on this album is far more emotionally intense than the original, composed as the theme for the film Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence.

Sent a ping out to a couple local musicians to gauge interest in composing some original music for the Duo soundtrack. Both responded very favorably. I love the stuff Brian Chase has already composed, and will definitely use it, but I want to replace some of the older, non-Brian tracks with some new stuff specifically written for the film. That way, most everything will be Duo-specific (which is this close to being an oxymoron). One of the two musicians approached was the one and only Kyle Stevens, who much impressed me during his live acoustic set with Gigi Edgley at ECC.

* * *

Just got back from Tyler's birthday dinner at Elliott Bay Brew Pub. I managed a salad and half a chicken gyro, but barely touched the fries (and even that is making me a bit crampy). Tyler and Miles went nuts with the seafood, and Kayleigh stuck with her old standby, chicken tenders. Came home to find a seedless watermelon from Darlene & James, and Mike Berg called in a childcare favor, so I'm gonna have four kids here tonight. I have meetings all day tomorrow. I think a screening of Tombstone is in order. Only one of the best American films ever made. But then I really don't have an opinion or anything.

A Toucan? Really?

See, this is what it's come to.

I don't often remember my dreams, so when I do, it's usually for a reason, and the subject matter is usually pretty relevant in my life.

So a couple nights ago, I dreamed I was in my kitchen, cutting fresh strawberries for the kids. The front door was open, but the screen was closed. Suddenly I caught a flutter of movement out of the corner of my eye and looked toward the screen to see a toucan hopping around the front porch, trying to get at the door handle.

Now, of all the things I've dreamed about in my entire life, I have honestly never once dreamed of a toucan (at least that I recall). Seems pretty random at first blush, so I filed it away for future reference. I've seen toucans live and up close before, and this one was a beautiful specimen. Deep black body with a white breast and green around the eyes (which I've seen on parrots, but never toucans). The bill was a bit faded - not the vibrant orange, lemon, cherry and other natural flavors (ugh - curse you, Fruit Loops!). I mean, the normally orange and yellow bill was a bit faded with age or malnourishment. And man, this little thing wanted IN.

So I opened the door, and it hopped in, looking very much like it owned the place. I'm all, "Uh, hello... come on in, won't you?" Because apparently even in my dreams I'm a sarcastic ass. I tossed a strawberry, which it caught in midair, and immediately its bill flushed with color. More strawberries, more color. Then it hopped up onto my shoulder, and I went back into the kitchen to finish puttering like it was the most natural thing in the world. With my toucan. Let me repeat, for effect. With. My. Toucan. I gotta say, it's a bit bizarre for me to be saying that, as aside from giving my dad his Amazon bluefront parrot, Admiral Nelson, I'm not a real bird guy. And certainly not avid enough to be a tropical bird guy on top of that.

The vibe of the dream was extremely positive. Like more positive than I've had in recent memory. It was a mood of happy discovery, of letting in the new. And the best part is when I was poking around the dream analysis sites and actually found a reference to toucans! And I quote:

"To dream of a toucan foretells a period of good luck. If the dream focused on the toucan's beak, you may soon have a change of residence."

And while I wouldn't say the dream focused on the beak, it was certainly a factor. The overriding sensation was definitely happy, fun, positive and new.

Pretty wacky, huh?

Stand or Fall

I wanna thank my high school broadbuddy (that's a "girlfriend" like chicks have "girlfriends", literally a platonic friend who is a girl) Beth for the wonderful guffaw that is the icanhascheezburger pic right here. Probably only history geeks like me get the humor in that, but I don't care. That is teh funneh, as the kids say...

True to my word, I've been playing my massive '80s music collection at work this morning. And when this came up in the playlist, I decided to go check out the music video on YouTube, as I'd never seen it back in the day (which, as Dane Cook is quick to point out, was a Wednesday).

Well bugger me with a fish fork. It's a perfect specimen of early '80s MTV concept videos, complete with Cy Curnin sporting the same hairstyle I had in about '83, wearing the white pants (oh GAWD, the white pants), featuring a white peace flag, a white horse, and a tank.

'Cause you know, if I ever went into combat, the first guys I'd call for backup would be an '80s new wave band.

/snark

My Face is Crimson

[embarrassed chuckle]

After all the whining I did last night, I got to sleep as my head hit the pillow at 11:15, and I slept like a teenager until 6:40AM. That's more than 7 hours, almost twice what I've been getting. I guess the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

I feel great.

Plus, the sun is out, and it's supposed to hit the 80s today. Maybe I should celebrate with '80s music while I work. That's clever. I was hoping to join a friend down at Alki for lunch, but that's not going to happen today, so I'll just open the blinds, crack all the windows for a nice crossbreeze, and check off the to-do list. Maybe even mow the BACK yard.

Whoa there, cowboy. You still have to get the kids to school and take the garbage to the curb. If you're not all tuckered out after that, well then go nuts with the mower.

Movies tonight - huzzah!