Awkward Morning Experience

I know this borders on shilling... heck, it's outright panhandling for votes. As I mentioned last week, D Constructed Media shot three TV spots for a morning radio show (The BJ Shea Morning Experience) here in Seattle - specifically for a contest. Almost more important than the $10K prize for the audience fave, the spot will be shown on the Seattle Fox affiliate during prime time. It's great exposure for our work, and could lead to steady commercial gigs.

Anyway, here is the link to vote. One vote per person. Our spot is the #2 listing, the "Awkward Morning Experience" (which features Eric Riedmann from Ordinary Angels and the lovely Linsey Price in the towel). Just check the box and hit the button marked SUBMIT TOP 10 (don't ask... we're well aware there are only 5).

There are some clever spots in the batch, but I think ours and the Cheerleader Pillow Fight are the best targeted at Shea's demographic. And ours has TWO gags for the price of one!

Here are all three spots... in full rez!

Return to Innocence

Two posts in one day??

Yeah well... this is too good to let slide. I'm playing my chill working playlist and have my photos on a random cycling slideshow while I take care of my email on the other machine.

Enigma's "Return to Innocence" (the one with the Native American shamanic chant) just began playing, at the moment this picture showed up...

That's not the beginning of the end

That's the return to yourself

The return to innocence

Love - Devotion

Feeling - Emotion

Love - Devotion

Feeling - Emotion

Don't be afraid to be weak

Don't be too proud to be strong

Just look into your heart my friend

That will be the return to yourself

The return to innocence

If you want, then start to laugh
If you must, then start to cry
Be yourself, don't hide
Just believe in destiny

Don't care what people say

Just follow your own way

Don't give up and lose the chance

To return to innocence

You Can Run, But...

I was 14 when my dad and stepmom married, so I never got particularly close with her family. Soon, I was in my late teens, totally self-absorbed with making films and music and having this amazing love affair with Samantha. It wasn't until Sam & I moved north to Seattle that I got a little more comfy with the Hitchcock clan. My dad was, of course, very close to them. And they rallied when Sam and my father were in the home stretch. When we were on the edge of financial ruin due to medical debt, they stepped in. When dad was in the ICU at UW Hospital, they kept watch in shifts.

My step-uncle Keith recently had what can be described as a mild stroke. But my stepmom just notified me that the doctors have done a CT scan and have found what appears to be a tumor in his lungs. Cancer? Maybe. Please understand that I want so much to be positive and root for the home team, but every time the C-word comes up, I will readily admit that I brace for the worst. Prayers are welcome.

Perhaps I was already warmed up for the conversation with my stepmom. You see, cold meds can wreak havoc on the REMsleep/dreaming thing, and the last couple nights while I've been fighting off the flu bug du jour, I've been having a bunch of nightmares. So this morning, I awoke early and went upstairs to check a couple films off my list. And as whatever passes for fate would have it, both Elizabethtown and Wit were in my red envelopes.

Elizabethtown is a Cameron Crowe film, and as sappy as his material can sometimes be, I have always admired his way of telling a story. From the Fast Times at Ridgemont High screenplay to Say Anything to Singles to Almost Famous, there's a human commonality to be found. In brief, a young professional man's career and future bottom out - he's finished. His girlfriend breaks it off. He will forever be unemployable. And at the moment he is about to commit suicide, his sister calls to tell him their father just died. The film deals with the son going cross country to deal with obscure relations and supervise the memorial and cremation of his father. In the midst of the journey, he meets a woman who reignites his "pilot light".

What I love about the character is that she doesn't distract him from his pain - she supports him in it fully. The message seems to be: Go ahead and give yourself time to wallow in it - give in to the dark, sweet melancholy. Just remember to surface - and when you do, I'm here. As I watched this guy take the urn with his father's ashes on a road trip home, scattering bits of him at places they'd visited together, I was reminded of scattering my dad in the Pacific Ocean off Santa Cruz, CA, where I spent a great deal of my formative years. And of my stepmom's world travels to scatter some of him in places they'd been together, or where he'd always wanted to go. I didn't buy some of the romantic cheese, but some of it was actually dead-on (at least from my own experience). And although some say the film meanders, I would argue that after the death of a parent, your whole goddamn LIFE meanders. So there. Similar in vibe to Garden State. [EDIT: I know I said "similar in vibe to Garden State", but it's not even close to being in the same ballpark of quality - just wanted to clarify]

Wit, on the other hand, was brutal. I don't know why I made myself watch the whole thing, except that Emma Thompson is undeniably brilliant in the role of a career academic with no family who undergoes radical chemotherapy for late-stage ovarian cancer. It's an amazing piece of work and should be required viewing for anyone wanting to go into medicine. Even though much of the film breaks the fourth wall in Emma's monologues to the audience, the character's experience is frighteningly, viscerally real, and spot-on in terms of what I witnessed Samantha endure for almost three years. And that is why I streamed tears for 98 minutes.













The transformation from flashback college student to middle-aged college professor to bald, dying cancer patient is astonishing to behold. The makeup was so accurate there were times I had to do a double-take to make sure I was watching Emma and not Sam. The sunken, glassy eyes; the yellow splotches of jaundiced skin; the mouth sores; the skinny, frail body; the chest port. Thank God she was able to die in relative peace at home - not mistakenly code blue, being strongarmed by a crash team in the hospital. Once again, it reminded me of my dad, who was intubated by a crash team who attempted to revive him. There were no heroic measures taken, but I still think, regretfully, that it was more intervention than he would have ultimately wanted. In the end, that's just my opinion - not what he signed.

Anyway, some powerful stuff. If you are somehow perversely interested in what a terminal cancer patient goes through, read Sam's blog and watch Wit. There's something of human value there.

Marathon Session

My drummer buddy Steven Fox came up this weekend. In early 1989 he'd come into the Kinko's where I worked in college when he was playing with a San Francisco band called Show & Tell. He needed fliers. Almost two decades later and I still haven't been able to shake him.

I saw Show & Tell open for Voice Farm at the Stone in SF. Shortly thereafter, Show & Tell reformed into Atomic Snakes (my favorite incarnation). They were making solid, clean, new wave-style alternative rock in the age of Nirvana and Soundgarden. You might guess what happened to that project. Then Steven began drumming for Riots, kind of a club/rave project. For whatever reason, the dude has just never been in the right place or time to sieze a particular zeitgeist and get signed. So now he happily plays at the "hobbyist" level, despite a great talent and a warm, friendly and non-elitist personality (a rarity of in almost any genre of music).

He was hanging out at our Fremont, CA home studio when the first And Tears Fell album was being recorded. I'd been wanting to collaborate with the guy since forever, and aside from sampling some of his drums for my various Starbug/Impetus works, we'd never actually played on the same album together. So it was a real treat when he accepted my invitation to play drums on the And Tears Fell "Requiem" project.

I can't tell you how awesome it was to have my old friend show up in Seattle to bash out all eleven tracks in less than 4 hours. Considering that ATF had always used programmed drums, it marked a technical first. And after 18 years, we've finally been able to collaborate. We even broke for lunch at one point and headed around the corner to the restaurant where Muriel was working, so the two of them were actually able to meet. All in all, we were in the studio from 10AM until almost 2PM, broke for an hour and then went back in to go over a few bits and pieces - we were gone by 5PM. And even as much drumming as Steven did, I think I was more exhausted just from having watched him play.

I put him on the plane back to San Jose today. We both have a good feeling and a real sense of completion about this album. Now to finish up the fiddly work.

V Day Revisited

There are a few of us who have earned the right to say "Bay humbug!" on Valentine's Day. In my case, it's not what you might think - I mean, there's the obvious bitterness of having lost my true valentine, but it's really that I have always bristled at the notion that we must mark our calendars and make conspicuous displays of material giving to support the greeting card, candy and jewelry industries. Oh yeah - and flowers.

I have written here previously that Samantha and I made a tradition of doing something extra nice for each other NOT on V Day. Today also marks one year since I sat on my front lawn and watched as my home burned. So now of course the urge to flip February 14th a big middle finger is especially dominant.

It got off to a GREAT start too. I went in to my local Supercuts to get a quick clean-up of back & sides. As I was the first one into the shop this morning, there was a chair waiting for me. The chirpy stylist immediately dove in.

Her: So you getting cleaned up for a hot Valentine's date tonight?

Me: No.

That should have done it. But she would not be stopped so early in the game.

Her: Ah! That must mean you're MARRIED!

Me: Used to be.

Again, you'd think she'd get the clue. But no.

Her: Awww, what happened?

Are you kidding me?? Okay lady, you asked.

Me: I lost my wife to cancer two years ago.

Normally, that stops a conversation dead in its tracks. By all accounts, she should have just shut the hell up and finished the haircut. Wrong again!

Her: Ohhhh. WHAT KIND?

This hair stylist is superhuman, I'm convinced.

Me: Unknown primary. Attacked her liver and lungs.

Not to be outdone, she then proceeds to tell me about her friend who had a cancer of unknown primary in his mid 20s and died. Thank you. I had no idea I would get a cancer story with my haircut on Valentine's Day - how generous of you.

She finishes the haircut. And to top it all off, as I am getting up to leave...

Her: I hope you feel better.

WTF?? I came in here feeling just fine, lady. It was the grilling and anecdotes that put this scowl on my face, and my smile will return once I'm out of this establishment and back in my car - away from you.

So yeah. Screw you, Valentine's Day. There was a time when I was jealous so many couples strolled around with goofy adoring looks when I'd lost the object of my affection. But not anymore; I don't begrudge anyone his or her happiness. But it'd be a lot nicer if that sappy, glazed "I'm in love" look everybody floated around wearing today would show up on every other day too. Like Christmas, there's an inherent cultural expectation of affection and gift-giving. But if you do it simply because the calendar says you should, I say you aren't clear on the concept behind it.

I'll try to make my next post cheerier.

Happy Birthday

Dear Samantha,

We looked forward to this day, the two of us. We each wanted to plan something cool for the other's milestone, and talked of going to Hawaii or back to the Virgin Islands. That will not happen now. At least, not for this occasion.

This was always the short window of time when you were 2 years ahead of me, instead of just 1. We would joke how your were a cradle-robbing perv, preying on the poor defenseless underclassman. When we could afford it, I'd get you a day at the spa, or some other way to pamper yourself. We'd always go out to dinner with the family, at a place of the birthday-person's choosing. And we'd always get intimate time together after the kids were in bed.

Your chocolate cake is here, with a big wax four and zero on it. Kayleigh insisted.

How much our lives have changed since you were the age I am now. You've gone on to new horizons, and I've found my own here on Earth.

Our children are growing up - you would hardly recognize them in some ways, and yet you would always know them as your own. Tyler is fully on the road to becoming a man, and Kayleigh now charts a course in your performance footsteps. She sings along to our old music and practices makeup application in her bedroom. That should sound familiar to the suburban California teenage thespian who once caught my eye in drama class, and who met my shoes years earlier while we were both working tech on Romeo and Juliet at the Palo Alto Children's Theater.

I will always miss your presence, but the hurt of your passing has dilluted with time. And you will always have my love, that part of my heart that blossomed in having grown up with you. That love will not grow weaker with time - that is a constant, and will endure as long as our energy lives on.

Happy 40th birthday, Sam. You may not have made this milestone in the flesh, but we celebrate it in your honor anyway. Love, always.

Todd

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Three to four hours sleep a night for the past week + boxes of Sam's stuff + heavy Gilda's session + food poisoning from the taqueria across from the PolyClinic = a crazy night of dreams.

Crazy. I haven't had food poisoning in a long time, which is really amazing considering how much I eat out. Hell, I never got this sick eating Mexican food in MEXICO. After the crampy back-and-forth to stink up my bathroom for a couple hours, I collapsed in bed at 11PM, which is a huge achievement, considering my pillow hasn't seen me before 2 or 3AM for the past week. And boy did I ever dream. A cast of thousands. Family, friends, Sam. I don't even remember what they were about, specifically. Except one bit where the dead husband of one of my Gilda's friends told me to "tell Jeanne I'll see her in Guatemala." Ordinarily, this would be one of those dream non sequiturs, however she's just bought property in Guatemala and is relocating there. So that's interesting.

I didn't wake until NPR erupted from my alarm clock at 7AM. Eight solid hours, but I feel like I've been run over by an incontinent elephant. Perhaps it's the residual burrito bacteria. Perhaps I was working overtime on the astral plane. Perhaps both. I'm taking it easy today, remastering audio and trying to get my strength back for a commercial shoot tomorrow. Fortunately I don't have to direct, just operate the camera. Huzzah.

The kids want to celebrate Sam's birthday on Sunday, so we'll get a cake and do that. Which is fine. If it were just me, I'd drink a bottle of red and pass out on the sofa.

Speaking of the Cardigans (wha??), I love this song and video. They are incredibly underrated.

Boxes

RestorX brought the last of the boxes today. I couldn't bear to make another maze in my downstairs, so I had them stack them against the house in the carport.

Sam's clothes are in about 5 or 6 of them. Her pajamas still smell like chemo.

In another uncanny twist, a box from my bro Randy in CA arrived this morning - a bunch of archive DVDs with our old music on them. Sam's and mine. Stuff that I lost in the fire, stuff that I'd not heard in more than 10 years. Happier times. It's good to have this distraction because I don't want to face the boxes of Sam's stuff right now.

Sam's would-be 40th birthday is coming up on Sunday, then the 1 year marker of the Great Valentine's Day Fire of Old Westwood Town, then my dad's would-be 63rd birthday.

So, I pretty much hate February now, just on principle.

Tra la la.

How Appropriate

In the visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me brokenhearted

There it goes away it goes
In the night it slips away
There I leave all that I loathe
Escape before the day breaks

That holy dream, that holy dream
While the world were all chiding
Cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding
Spirit guiding

- Daughter Darling, "Absconding"

TIme Flies

Wow. It's already Saturday. The week has just zoomed by. Much of it was spent placating various government bureaucracies (the joys of owning one's own business). Wednesday night was Gilda's. Not much to say there. Thursday saw our rough cut submission of Ordinary Angels to SIFF. Thursday and Friday night I got to chill with the kids, which was cool. Friday night's movies were Click and Flyboys. Click was much better than I expected, which is how most Adam Sandler movies end up. I go in with such low expectations that I'm always somewhat pleasantly surprised. There's a lot to like about the film: Walken as a crazy ethereal technogeek, Kate Beckinsale as the hottest housewife ever, the awesome pair of Henry Winkler and Julie Kavner as Sandler's parents, David Hasselhoff as the obnoxious yuppie boss, and Sean Astin as a speedo-clad swimming coach/suitor for Kate's affections.

The message is pretty clear and simple: DON'T FAST FORWARD THROUGH YOUR LIFE, and DON'T WASTE A SINGLE MOMENT.

One thing's for sure - if I were married to Kate Beckinsale, it'd be pretty hard to be a workaholic, what with us never leaving the house and all... I can suspend my disbelief only so far. A "universal" remote that controls your universe? Sure, I'll accept that. But fast forwarding through sex with Kate Beckinsale?? Sorry. Not buying it.

Flyboys was pretty much what I expected. A sweeping WWI epic adventure drama. With cool vintage aeroplanes. And zeppelins. And as everyone knows, EVERY movie is better with zeppelins*. I don't know about EVERY German plane being a bright red Fokker triplane (as if everyone was Manfred von Richtofen). There were only 300-some made during the war, and during the period depicted in the film, most German pilots would have been flying Albatros D-3s. I guess the producers thought it would be easier for the audience to differentiate between the good guys and bad guys. Shrug. It wasn't terrific, but it's pretty well executed and enjoyable, with some "holy crap that was cool" moments.

* One day, I will write the ultimate pulp screenplay, and it will include zeppelins, monkeys, ninja, pirates AND robots (and they will all have jetpacks and tommy guns). And maybe a flying bear that shoots lasers out of its eyes. 'Cause that would rock.

Went into the studio today with Muriel to get her vocals done for the And Tears Fell CD. It's sounding great, and I think Brian is looking forward to getting my project out the door. Met with some of the guys from his band, Full Life Crisis, and went over some concepts for their CD art. I am charged with the design for their upcoming album, a task I gladly assume. In 2 weeks, Steven "Thug Drummer" Fox comes up to add his bashing to the mix. Looking forward to the visit. We never have enough time to just chill out and be friends - there's always a schedule. And of course there will be a schedule somewhat, but we'll be hanging out in addition to the studio time. Still trying to get on a schedule with Jason Parker for a horn solo on Fire Inside. We shall see.

Superbowl tomorrow (aka today). Don't really care. See you this week!

Benevolent Creator

Thanks, Dave... that's a really cool and insightful test.

Benevolent Creator

You are a Creator

Your imagination, confidence, willingness to explore, and appreciation of beauty make you a CREATOR.

You are independent, and you enjoy your self-sufficiency.

Defying convention, you are very innovative, and you have a vivid imagination.

The look of things is important to you, and you have a keen eye for aesthetic beauty in multiple arenas.

You have a strong interest in what is new and exciting—and that includes forging ahead with new ideas, not simply discovering what is already out there.

Your eagerness to seek new and varied experiences leads you into many different situations.

You're not set on one way of doing things, and you are creative when it comes to finding novel solutions to complex problems.

You trust yourself to be innovative and resourceful.

Your confidence allows you to take your general awareness and channel it into creativity.

You're not afraid to let your emotions guide you, and you're generally considerate of others' feelings as well.

You prefer to have time to plan for things, feeling better with a schedule than with keeping plans up in the air until the last minute.

Generally, you believe that you control your life, and that external forces only play a limited role in determining what happens to you.


If you want to be different:

Appreciate the earthly, practical elements of things—there is beauty in form as well.

While you are good at thinking abstractly, focusing on details a bit more may help you discover things about the world.

You are Benevolent

You are a great person to interact with—understanding, giving, and trusting—in a word, BENEVOLENT

You don't mind being in social situations, as you feel comfortable enough with people to be yourself.

Your caring nature goes beyond a basic concern: you take the time to understand the nuances of people's situations before passing any sort of judgment.

You're a good listener, and even better at offering advice.

You're concerned with others at both an individual and societal level—you sympathize with the plights of troubled groups, and you can care about people you've never met.

Considering many different perspectives is something at which you excel, and you appreciate that quality in others.

Other people's feelings are important to you, and you're good at mediating disputes.

Because of your understanding and patience, you tend to bring out the best in people.

You're not afraid to let your emotions guide you, and you're generally considerate of others' feelings as well.

You prefer to have time to plan for things, feeling better with a schedule than with keeping plans up in the air until the last minute.

Generally, you believe that you control your life, and that external forces only play a limited role in determining what happens to you.

If you want to be different:

You spend a lot of time taking care of others, but don't forget to take care of yourself!

Sometimes you can get overcommitted, and when you sacrifice spending time with those close to you, it can make them feel unimportant.

The Things We Do For Our Kids

For once, Tyler actually wanted to go see a movie as a family. I figured, "Hey! That doesn't happen very often - what a great thing this is!"

So he picked Epic Movie. (Cue wah-wah trombone.)

OK, I was somewhat entertained. It made me chuckle in parts, and it made me squirm in others. Some of the shtick was so lowbrow my shins were sore when it was over. It's like a 90-minute version of a MAD TV sketch gone horribly awry. But I guess it's aimed at Tyler and his peers, so what did I expect? Oddly enough, when the lights came up, Tyler remarked, "That was like a really long Flash movie," referring to the copius amount of hastily drawn and animated random comedy 'toons made with Flash and floating around the interwebs.

I cleansed my palette by watching Waiting..., which came in this week's crop of Netflix. Which was like gargling with toilet water to get the taste of toilet water out of my mouth. Actually it was better than that... I like Mac guy and Blade 3 guy and The Office guy. And Dane Cook is amusing as a pierced and tribally-inked cook. And the lovely and talented Jordan Ladd is always a treat. The script is okay overall, but the basic premise that a bunch of restaurant staff actually hang out together 24/7 is a bit odd. I know when I worked in food service, you could not PAY me to hang out with my coworkers. And when Sam worked as a hostess at Lyon's, she couldn't WAIT to get home every night.

Anyway... super psyched about the Deep Mosey thing. And Scott from Autumn's Grey Solace answered my email, saying that they were interested in licensing Cold Sea for the opening credits of OA. The sound editor is coming by this afternoon to finalize some stuff. We're counting down.

Progress...

Had a lovely pizza/movie night last night. Ron came over bearing Boston cream pie. Trish from Ordinary Angels and her husband Dan brought a bottle of wine. We crowded into the family room with the kids for Over the Hedge, then the kids dispersed for various computers and art projects, and the adults watched Clerks 2. It was as crude and sick as any Kevin Smith film, and we all laughed throughout the entire movie.

This morning, Ron drove me around the industrial areas around the Duwamish River and Port of Seattle so I could shoot some kinetic footage for the OA opening titles. Then we grabbed lunch with the kids and watched the latest Dane Cook concert DVD.

The real highlight of my day came when I received word from Kirsten of Deep Mosey, allowing me to use their track "Freed From the Finite" in the closing credits of OA. I'm ecstatic! I've loved them since '99, when we were both artists on MP3.COM.

Getting close to sending the rough cut into SIFF and the London SciFi Film Festival.

Tired. I sleep now.

Angels Pics

I've scanned a bunch of photos Thatcher took on-set and posted them to my Flickr site. There are also stills from the actual video.

Surfacing

I'm very tired, but seem to be coming through the most recent wave. Keeping busy with projects and the founding of a new film production company, which will absorb Despot Pictures. The new entity consists of Ordinary Angels producer Sally, production accountant Justin, editor Dan and myself, and we've latched onto the name D Constructed Media. The D is of course a reference to the fact that all four of us have names starting with D (either first or last), and deconstruction means to strip down to the basic elements. It also points at the philosophy of deconstruction, which is a form of textual analysis. But the basic meaning is that we, "D", constructed this media.

Going out to Dan's tomorrow to take a look at the color correction for the film. And Wednesday afternoon I'm meeting with the sound designer to do some element recording and listen to his mix thus far.

I got my brother to come over to watch the kids this Wednesday so that I can go back to my Gilda's group. I've missed it.

I think this last wave was a lot of coming to grips with the fact that my old life is gone, and for better or worse I am on this new path. I mean, it's been this way for quite some time, of course. But it was the saying goodbye to any illusion or fantasy that Sam would be calling from the hospital, saying it was all a big administrative screw up, and could I pick her up? It was the acknowledgement that I've put the past in the past and the future in the future, and the two are separate and distinct. That's the sense of "goodbye" I mentioned a couple posts ago. THAT'S the sadness. The admission that I'm actually moving forward and not just in a holding pattern, waiting for the Universe to shake out. Because that's not going to happen; the Universe doesn't shake out. We make an active decision and the Universe adjusts accordingly.

Sam's would-be 40th birthday is in a couple more weeks. I think that might be hard. Then we've got Dad's would-be 63rd, and then Sam's deathiversary in April. That's something I'm really not interested in observing as much as her birthday, but I know the brain will continue to mark the date for awhile yet.

An old high school friend of Sam's & mine put me in touch with a friend of hers who recently lost his wife to sudden cardiac arrest (she was young and at the peak of health), leaving him with two kids to raise (approximately the same ages as mine). I sent email and started to walk him through some of the initial stuff I remembered from my experience, and it looks like he has his situation as well in hand as anyone can. It feels good to make contact with someone a similar age in a similar situation and help them out. God knows I'm only standing today by the kindness and support of others. Feels good to give back.

Casualties

We're the casualties
No one tells you about us
You'll hear stories
But you have to live to believe

We're the bodies
Piled up by the roadside
You'll smell us burning
It'll give you bad dreams

Don't run away
We're a cautionary tale
Walk softly, and take heed
Don't offer us your sympathy
You don't know what we need

We're the spineless
The skinless and the broken
You'll be a crutch
Cause we can't stand on our own

You'll gather round us
To comfort and heal us
But the nature of our pain
Will remain unknown

Don't come to me
For happiness
I'm an open pit, and you will just fall in
Don't ask me what my problem is
I wouldn't know where to begin

I get so tired of holding on
I get so cold that I am chilled to the bone
I cry so hard it knocks me down
I just don't want to be alone

We're the lost and the forsaken
Screaming just to hear a voice
A sound to fill the empty spaces
A hand to hold and still the shaking

We're the wasted and the weary
Giving up and falling down
We're the needy, sick for your love
A drug to take to stop the aching

- Red Delicious


I excised some of the repeating chorus parts, but the meat is there. If ever there was a widda anthem, this is it.

Crash

Sometimes it just happens.

You could have the most productive day, everything going right... and BAM! The wave just hits you. I don't think I've had one for a few months. Not like this. Not sitting in bed until 4AM crying 'til dry and sick to my stomach.

That's one of the reasons I haven't posted all this week, and why this post is so short. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around it. It felt almost like I was forgetting what Sam felt like, or something... like I wasn't feeling her presence anymore. It felt like goodbye. And it was horrible.

Stuff is happening, life rolls on, and I think I may have just passed another milestone. But I don't know for sure. I want to talk to some of my widda pals and see if this has happened to them.

The Dining Room DVD is finished. The full assembly of the Ordinary Angels rough cut is finished. And Randy was able to find a lot of our old music in his archives that I no longer have (or even had in the first place). And I did this.

Let it Snow, Part II

Took a nap this afternoon, the weather clear and cold. Woke up an hour later to big, fluffy, dry snowflakes coming down in buckets. Within a couple hours, West Seattle was a winter wonderland and hilly streets were being closed.

I walked down to Westwood with Kayleigh so that she could get her hair cut (to be closer in length to her long bangs. Meanwhile, I went next door to Toshi's and picked up some teryaki, and ended up bumping into one of my actors from Ordinary Angels. He lives about 2 blocks from me, and was over in the mall looking for some gloves at Marshall's. I invited him up to the house to check out what we had of the rough cut - he loved it. Speaking of which, Dan just handed off the last scene of the rough cut. We're conferencing with the sound designer tomorrow, and then Ron is driving me around to get some footage for the opening titles on Sunday (hopefully after the snow melts!!).

We've got about 3" to 4" solid on the ground now, and an expected 4" to 6" expected overnight - it's still coming down in a steady blanket. Snow day tomorrow, for sure. I will likely make the kids play in the snow for a great portion of the day.

Coordinating with Steve Fox (drums) and Jason Parker (horn) to session for me on the And Tears Fell tribute CD. It's coming down to the last few needed bits, and the drums will especially be a huge part of that completion for me. In association with that project, Randy talked me into remastering the original two ATF albums and one EP, and put them up on Cafepress, not for general public consumption, but for friends and family who want to be able to have that archive. I thought it was a worthwhile suggestion, so now I'm doing more CD artwork, based on the original cassette J-cards, but metric assloads better in quality.

Some of these recordings are pushing 20 years old, and they were not pro quality to begin with, so I have mixed feelings about having them available to the general public. However, reason dictates that: a) they had merit enough for a record label to want to release them back in the day; b) we must have felt they were worth hearing at some point. So, for historical value if nothing else, the three titles Sidhe, Circe and Angry Odin will be showing up at my currently evolving Cafepress emporium of Toddness. Lord help us all.

I do like the And Tears Fell T-shirt design - you know, I was And Tears Fell before Samantha was the vocalist, and I may very well push ahead with new material, but I think it's entirely appropriate that Sam's image be the default logo for the band. She named it, she believed in it, and she gave us a solid identity. I firmly believe she'd love what we're doing with the new recordings - heck, she'd be in the studio with us if she could (and maybe she is anyway).

Riding the See-Saw

Imagine a wound that had been slowly healing over two years, strength and mobility returning after months of numbness and atrophy.

Now rip the scab off and start poking in the raw tissue.

Caroline was a friend of Sam's. Caroline had what I understood to be an aggressive lymphoma, for which she'd undergone every possible treatment, and had even been previously in remission. Caroline's husband was in my family support group at Gilda's, and Caroline was in Sam's wellness group. She was a woman who refused to give up - who always dressed fashionably, makeup done, hair (or wig) in place, traveled, laughed, lived and loved with gusto. She certainly didn't look middle-aged, even in the midst of horrible chemo. And she always inspired Sam in her own fight. Often we'd come out of our individual groups and on the drive home Sam would tell me how uplifting it felt to be in Caroline's presence, despite how heavy the group sessions got. I thought, if ANYONE can beat cancer, Caroline can.

Caroline passed away last Wednesday.

And I can't stop crying.

I've said this before, and I will say it again, without apology for the colloquial profanity...

FUCK CANCER.

This whole thing was really driven home yesterday when I took Kayleigh to Build-a-Bear to spend her Christmas gift cards. While I stood by and observed, she passed from bin to bin, carefully weighing the decisions. Ultimately, she decided on a big floppy brown bunny and a white bear with blue patches of fur. She dressed the bunny in a striped blouse, jeans and sandals. The bear got a fleece pullover, khakis, tennies, and a baseball cap.

She named the rabbit Samantha Kate Bunny. The bear was named Grampa Bear.

So... yeah... kinda sad today.

I Think I Just Peed.

This. Click this link now. You must.

It's that funny.

Well, it's that funny if you grew up watching Speed Racer like I did.

Dredging the Past

Within the past month, two women from my childhood and/or teens have contacted me out of the blue. It's been really nice to get reacquainted, and gives me a nice sense of stability in the midst of this emotionally enigmatic headspace. One of these old/new friends actually new Sam before I did, and was a fellow artist/extrovert at Paly. We're probably more similar and have more in common now than back then. BTW her husband is a freakin' eletronic music genius whose mash-up of Eminem - Without Me and Yes - Owner of a Lonely Heart must be heard to be believed. Unfortunately, she didn't know about Sam's death, and we've been doing a lot of commiserating and catching up online until the wee hours, which means I have not been getting any sleep, so now I'm fighting a cold. Bleh. She's had her own life touched by cancer, so there's another point of overlap. Sigh - this goddamn disease. Seems like it leaves nobody untouched.

Also been sharing some music with my Jr. High theater "sweetie". We were in a gawdawful melodrama where I played the Li'l Abner-esque bumpkin hero and she was the poor damsel in distress (hence the kiss). Funny, I think I forgot about our stage kiss because the play was so bad, not because the kiss was forgettable - I've had relatively few in my (not-so-) distinguished acting career, so you'd think I'd remember it. It's actually pretty funny and has become a point of jest between us.

Speaking of theater, I took Kayleigh to the afternoon performance of Amahl & the Night Visitors, at Youngstown. Great production, possibly the best Amahl in the group's history. It was great to hang out in the Samantha Downing Control Booth for awhile and chat with Sara (the tech director there), and watch the show from the top row. They packed a full orchestra and chorus into that relatively small space, and pulled off a really delightful performance. Mike T., our Tevye from Fiddler, was in fine form as Balthazar for his, what, tenth or so year in the role (?).

Dan keeps feeding me finished scenes from Angels. I think we might actually make it for the SIFF deadline! I have a meeting tomorrow with one of the producers, the production accountant and Lieutenant Dan to figure out what our production entity is gonna look like.

Tonight, however, there is evil that needs a good smiting in City of Heroes. Vanguard II is on the case, and hopefully the usual suspects will be logging on to do some good. Recently Ron, Hans, Tyler and myself have been voice conferencing as we play. Beats the hell out of typing, "Look out behind you - there's a big dude with a.... nevermind."

Happy GNY

...or, Gregorian New Year. It was a quiet affair for me and mine. Tyler had a last-minute invite to his best friend's house for a family party, and Kayleigh stayed home with her dad. We toasted with some sparking cranberry juice and I tucked her in bed with Wiley at her feet, and minutes later crashed out in my own bed.

Perhaps it was the exhausting schedule of the holidays, but she slept in until after 1PM today. Tyler didn't take his meds with him to his overnight, so I'm having to watch him like a hawk tonight. If I keep him focused and occupied, he usually does okay. Just sent him on a mission to QFC for some sour cream - we're having homemade soft tacos tonight.

I don't usually make New Years resolutions. I am of the opinion (like Will Smith) that doing so means that you're neglecting something in your daily life. But I will say that 2007 represents a sort of mental milestone for me, and that I am going back to the gym after having been slammed for three months by schedule and projects, and that the dating moratorium is over (but so is the man-whore phase I went through last year). I'm done with serial dating. If the real thing happens by, great. But I'm not re-joining Match or Yahoo Personals. Hats off to those who find true love through dating services, but it's too contrived for my liking.

Dan has been kicking ass and taking names on the rough cut of Ordinary Angels. He's over halfway done. I'm very excited. It's looking great.

Kayleigh goes back to school tomorrow and I get to finish Tyler's enrollment at WAVA. And do a bank run. And submit my city business tax forms. And follow up with the insurance company. And talk to my lawyer. In other words, back to the hustle and bustle of daily life.

Cheers, loyal readers. Here's to a much better 2007!

So Happy to Show this Freakin' Year Out the Door.

So we lost power again yesterday. It was only down for 4 hours, but it's still like, "sonnovabitch!" Apparently it was an accident involving at least one car, an ambulance, and a power pole near the West Seattle Bridge. I know it also included the nearby transformer station, because we watched the green flashes out the window. And it happened right at dusk, while it poured down rain. It was heavy even for Seattle (we still get less precip than New York City, just more precipitous days overall). After one of the hottest summers on record, we are now having a record-breaking wet winter. At least the snowpack will be ginormous and keep us hydrated through the presumably hot summer to come.

I got a lump of coal in the form of a lien on my home from the contractor. Nevermind the fact that in order to release the funds, the mortgage company required they sign a waiver of lien. Nevermind the fact that the insurance companies are the ones paying the money... nah, that's too much work. We should just go after the homeowner. He doesn't have NEARLY enough going on. Sigh. That's all I dare say in case we go into litigation.

Creative projects are coming together, and that makes the insurance and legal crap more bearable. Got a CD of the last milestone on the Samantha tribute album. All the bass that Mike Berg laid down really fills out the sound - I'm very happy. Called Muriel and we're scheduling some rehearsal and a recording session in the early part of January to take care of the finished vocals. She's about to cast her show - the spring play for Twelfth Night. Sam Shepard's The True West. It'll be great to see what she does with the show.

Editor Dan (or should I start calling him Lieutenant Dan??) has been working on the Ordinary Angels edit. We're about to scene 5/6/7, and he's just done the most amazing effect. In the first meeting between Lucifer and Micah, Lucifer pulls out a gun and shoots one of his own Fallen, to compensate the angels for an improperly harvested soul. The raw footage is pretty pedestrian - Lucifer pulls a Beretta from his coat and fires behind himself without looking. Amazingly, the camera lines up right down his arm, and in perfect alignment with the actor across the park. The trigger is pulled on the prop pistol, and a little plastic "pop" is heard. Lucifer jerks a bit of artificial recoil, and the actor playing the Fallen crumples in a heap. The timing is great, but there's no actual plate movement, no muzzle flash, no smoke, no ejecting cartridge, and no gunshot sound.

So imagine my absolute shock when Dan gave me a short HD sequence of the gunshot, with all of the above. It looks freakin' REAL. I love you, Dan.

Been visiting a bunch with my old buddy Hans (who is up visiting from San Diego). I've mentioned him here before. It's nice to still have friends who can make me laugh 'til I pee, and vice versa.

Had a good Christmas with the fam up at my sister's new house in Bellingham. It was good to have the grandparents there, still lovely and spry, and the extended family (my sister-in-law's twin, and my brother-from-another-mother Steve). My mom is turning the big 60 next month, so we siblings are in Conspiratorial Birthday Mode. Stopped by stepmom's place on the water in Ballard on the way home from B'ham. She'd been sick and hadn't been able to join us up north, so we brought her some Christmas. Tyler was remarkably engaged in the activities and family, which pleased most everyone. He's spending the rest of his holiday playing his newly acquired videogames.

I'm sorry if the last few posts have been sour and negative. Christmas used to be a really happy time. I found the first Christmas gift Samantha ever gave me in one of the fire salvage boxes. An old RC Corvette Stingray she'd hand-painted metallic blue because they only made it in yellow or red. Christmas 1984 - our first Christmas as a couple, and she'd given me an RC version of my favorite car in its ideal color. That's an observant woman.

So understanably, this month has not really been the best, emotionally. But just bear with me. It's all part of the show, folks.

It's Christmas, Charlie Brown

So here we are, another Christmas Eve.

I count my blessings. I have my kids, my extended family beyond that, and a great (and ever-expanding) circle of friends. I have a house that isn't burning down or flooding with sewage, so there's that.

But it's still empty, almost 2 years later.

It's hard to be 100% into the season without the woman that was there for 21 Christmases, that female counterpart, that partner energy, the yin to my yang. I'm tired of solo parenting, tired of making all the decisions, being the caregiver for all and being the stoic one. Whine whine whine... yeah, you've heard it all before. Probably won't be the last time I say it either.

I apologize in advance if this post is dwelling on the negative side, but it's what goes on in my head and my heart around this time. I pretty much hate holidays now, having had many of them ruined by association with tragedy and death. I mean, I keep a civil (if not downright jovial) face, but it's hard for me to really find inner joy at this time of year. I'm willing for that to change, but for now... there it is.

Perhaps it was the storm knocking everyone's power out, but the vibe around here has been retarded. People in general have been selfish, short-sighted assholes to each other. Many of my friends have mentioned the same thing. It's impossible to go from one side of West Seattle to the other without somebody demonstrating imminent natural selection. Slow the hell down and look at the big picture (and maybe hang up the friggin' CELL PHONE while you're driving in the rain and ice, idiot). The day will still come. Christmas will still be here. It's not going anywhere. And here's a concept that came via an unexpected and rather nice phone call from one of my Dining Room actors just a couple days ago: If the giving of a gift (or reciprocity from a gift given) is expected, THEN IT IS NOT A GIFT at all. It is socially-acceptible extortion. By all means, give. But give truly and from the heart, not because the calendar says now is the time to take out a second mortgage to support the retail economy or because you expect anything in return. There's a certain expectation about gift giving during the winter holidays, and a certain amount of generosity and hospitality is a good thing. But there's a point past which it just seems a bit gaudy... and missing the point of the holiday in the first place.

I mean, didn't you see A Charlie Brown Christmas?

Anyway... There. I'm done with my holiday rant. I'm sure that will help fix all the problems in the world.

Here's wishing you all a safe and happy holiday, full of love and giving... for all the right reasons. :) Be sure to tune in next week when I tell the year 2006 to kiss my lilly-white ass.

Wind Storm '06

Well, we hunkered down and rode out the worst storm to hit the Puget Sound since January 1993. Between fat splats of rain (that caused flooding at major intersections and drowned one woman trapped in her basement office) and winds that clocked in near 90 mph on the coast, over 1.2 million people were without power starting Thursday night. Many areas won't be back online for days, due to the multitude of trees that ripped out of the ground and took down power lines, poles and transformers. Meanwhile, the temps are hovering around freezing. (AP Photo/The Daily World, Kevin Hong - More photos at the Seattle Post-Intelligencer website)

It's a mess.

We are lucky. We lost our power during the worst part of the storm, about 2AM Friday morning, and spent a cold Friday night in the family room with our comforters and warm dog. We got our juice back on about 2:30PM Saturday, at the same time as the majority of Westwood shopping center. Still, there are huge chunks of West Seattle without power, in seemingly random patterns. Of course, the combination of holiday shopping fever and no power or heat at home means that EVERYBODY in West Seattle must go eat out, so parking and even finding a restaurant with power is an interesting lottery of sorts.

Aside: on Friday evening, I took the kids to Bamboo Grill on Alki, and saw the last woman I dated (back in March). She was having dinner at the bar with a guy friend, and once or twice when we caught each other's eye, I smiled and/or waved a friendly hello. I know she recognized me, but sadly she was in new-boyfriend mode, and made no effort to return the greeting. Sigh. Whatever. Not like I was investing a lot in the gesture, but it's usually nice to reciprocate.

These storm/disaster situations tend to bring out the extremes of human nature: people are either really nice (thank you Lisa at Ellott Bay pub!), or they devolve into complete assholes, cutting in gas lines (wait your turn like everyone else), rolling through dark intersections (if there's no light, treat it like an all-way stop), or just generally being a self-centered whiny bitch (hey, you know we're all going through this together, so chill out and be a part of the solution, not part of the problem).

Anyway, we're safe, warm and dry, and I replaced the food in the fridge today (when in doubt, throw it out). So we're infinitely better off than some of my friends out in Bothell or Kirkland or Federal Way, who are still without power and/or heat, and dealing with some VERY cold nights.

Be safe, all.

* * *

Oh, and lest we forget, with all the wind-blowing and power-outing, Peter Boyle just died. Sing it with me:

"Tryin' mighty hard to look like Gary Cooper..."

"THOOOPER DOOOOOPER!"

Fair winds, you beautiful monster.

More Lyrics for the Somber Masses

Gah! I friggin' HATE My Chemical Romance, because they write such lyrically brilliant and touching songs, which are made barely listenable by Gerard Way's OTT emo delivery. If I want whining, I have plenty of The Cure to listen to - and nobody does whining like Robert Smith.

Anyway, thanks to Conor for pointing out this track...

Turn away,
If you could get me a drink
Of water 'cause my lips are chapped and faded
Call my aunt Marie

Help her gather all my things
And bury me in all my favorite colors,
My sisters and my brothers, still, I will not kiss you,
'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you.

Now turn away,
'Cause I'm awful just to see
'Cause all my hairs abandoned all my body,
Oh, my agony,

Know that I will never marry,
Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo
But counting down the days to go
It just ain't living

And I just hope you know
That if you say
Goodbye today
I'd ask you to be true

'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you
'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you

- "Cancer", My Chemical Romance

Letter Home

Dear Folks:

It's time for my second "Away From Home at Thanksgiving" letter. Only one more such letter to write, the one next year. Three in a row are enough.

Again, Uncle Sam fed me a nice turkey dinner with all the trimmings. Table cloths, cloth napkins, real plates (not trays) and fresh fruit displays were on the table for the first time this year, only to be put away for Christmas.

But tablecloths and fresh fruit do not a Thanksgiving make. It takes a certain type of surrounding, call it "home," or "family," or even "good friends."

No matter where you are in the world, no matter what the decorations, Thanksgiving just isn't Thanksgiving with 300 men eating as fast as they can to make room for another 300 men, with the Beatles for background music.

Perhaps there'll come a time when it'll no longer be necessary for soldiers and sailors to experience such an empty holiday as this, in which men are being maimed or are dying, in which others are being thankful that they have been spared again for yet one more day - all so that their families at home can stuff themselves on this bountiful harvest.

I'm thinking of my class at the Signal School, with most of my buddies now in Vietnam, knowing that some of them might leave their lives there. I'm very fortunate being here in Germany, and yet in a way I envy those who went to Vietnam. I am needed here, but I'm second in importance to the others when you consider what they're doing for you. As much as they hate it, as much as I hate it, we are all proud that we became Uncle Sam's fighting men, that we have done something for our country besides parade around with silly signs in our hands.

I am thinking of my child, which is yet unborn. I'm looking forward to Nancy's coming, and thinking how fortunate I am that I will be able to be present when my son (of course it will be a son!) arrives next April. The others will miss the memories of their wives' morning sickness, the trip to the hospital, their children's first cries. They'll miss the bitter-sweet pleasure of two o'clock feedings, colics and teething. The baptism will belong to the past, along with the first steps, the first words, the first haircuts. And some will die, and their children will never know them, in order that these children might enjoy the bountiful harvest for many more years to come. And yet I envy them, that they are doing so much for their country, while I am doing so little.

We said "good-bye," but we'll say "hello" again. Thousands like us, with families like ours, said "good-bye" for all eternity. They have sacrificed their all that you and I and our families and most of the world might give thanks for a good harvest. Others, perhaps, are giving thanks for merely being alive but are wishing at the same time that they were dead and released from their troubles.

Pray for those men who are there. They are the ones who need the prayers of 10,000 people. I am not worthy of the prayers of ten.

I come to the end of this letter giving thanks that my last year was as wonderful as it was. May the next year be half as good to me, to my family and friends, as it will be to those who will be able to leave Vietnam for good after serving their tour with death. Perhaps - hopefully but improbably - we may ALL come home to enjoy Thanksgiving next year.

Your loving son,
Ed

* * *

Letter home written by Edmund Downing from Heidelberg, West Germany, November 1967. My father. The unborn child he mentions is me, and Nancy is my mother. The letter appeared in the Los Gatos Times Observer, and I have posted it here without edit of content.

I find it interesting that he is so self-effacing about his worthiness, considering his job had to do with coded transmissions and therefore he could not go within 10km of East Germany. I do not find it surprising that he was able to reconcile a hatred of the political situation in Vietnam with a love of country and willingness to serve. I was brought up a pacifist, and we never had guns or any facsimiles of guns in the house. I remember it was a major issue when I bought my first G.I. Joe with my own birthday money, and it came with a little rifle.

My father usually voted Democrat or Libertarian, and was very socially progressive. When the Iraq war began, he shook his head and muttered, "God help them," and I never had the guts to ask who he was talking about - our soldiers, their soldiers, the administration or the innocent civilians caught in the middle. Knowing my father, my money is on "all of the above."

I just found the newspaper article in one of the boxes. Thought I'd share some words that haven't been seen in almost four decades, and which seem to have particular relevance at this point in our cyclical history.

This is the Day

As part and parcel with this '80s phase (mostly due to going through many boxes of fire-scarred memories), I burned a CD with a lot of my favorite '80s alternative. Stuff I was listening to back in the olden days. Yes, I know I can't live in the past. This reinforcement is simply giving me the strength I need to dig through boxes and sort through the emotions associated with them. For instance, I found Sam's cheerleader uniform from high school, with her rally squad letter. Damn, but that was a kick in the gut.

The point being, I know that when I'm done sorting through boxes and framing old pictures, I'll be able to put those memories aside for a time, and not have to dwell on them. But for now, yes, I'm wallowing a little. And that's okay. Because I said. And nobody makes the rules for my grief experience but me. That rat bastard.

Sorry - back to the music. I was listening to this compilation CD of '80s alternative when This is the Day by The The (aka Matt Johnson) began its tinkly little opening arpeggio. Found myself singing along to it. Found myself singing through honest-to-God tears. For no apparent reason, save for the fact that the words just may have had the effect of an epiphany. I mean, I've always liked the song - even planned a college animation project around it. But for some reason the meaning had never felt as strong or as clear - it was like I'd been saving it up for 22 years.

Well... you didn't wake up this morning
'cause you didn't go to bed
You were watching the whites of your eyes turn red
The calendar on your wall is ticking the days off

You've been reading some old letters
You smile and think how much you've changed
All the money in the world couldn't buy back those days

You pull back the curtains, and the sun burns into your eyes
You watch a plane flying across a clear blue sky
This is the day your life will surely change
This is the day when things fall into place

You could've done anything, if you'd wanted
And all your friends and family think that you're lucky
But the side of you they'll never see
Is when you're left alone with the memories
That hold your life together like glue

You pull back the curtains, and the sun burns into your eyes
You watch a plane flying across a clear blue sky
This is the day your life will surely change
This is the day when things fall into place

Sappy Lyric Day

OK, so looking at those John Hughes films from the '80s got my sleep-deprived brain working in the dead letter department, and I went and pulled out my copy of The Beat - Special Beat Service (thanks to Gordon for the replacement copy). It was one of those chosen few albums in heavy rotation in our cars when Sam & I were dating. Well I shouldn't really say "few", since we were musical gluttons. But if you'd been riding along in Sam's Arrow in 1985, here's a sampling of the cassettes you would have found on the floor:

Madness (best of)
The Police (everything)
Sting (Dream of the Blue Turtles)
The Beat (Special Beat Service, Just Can't Stop It)
Howard Jones (Human's Lib, Dream Into Action)
Flock of Seagulls (the first two albums on 1 tape)
Sparks (In Outer Space)
Depeche Mode (People Are People)
Shriekback (Oil & Gold) - (Any band who can use the word "parthenogenesis" in a song gets my vote!)
Yello (Stella)
Boomtown Rats (In the Long Grass)
Marillion (Misplaced Childhood)
Love & Rockets (Seventh Dream of Teenage Heaven)
Oingo Boingo (Good For Your Soul, Dead Man's Party)
Danny Elfman (So-Lo)
Repo Man (soundtrack)
A-Ha (Hunting High & Low)
Queen (best of)
Tears For Fears (Songs From the Big Chair)
Psychedelic Furs (Mirror Moves)
David Bowie (Let's Dance, Tonight)
Berlin (Pleasure Victim, Love Life)
Missing Persons (Spring Session M, Rhyme and Reason)

...Add to that a smattering of my obscuria (at the time), like Art of Noise, The Replacements, Kate Bush and pre-So Peter Gabriel, plus some leftover Scorpions, Judas Priest, Led Zeppelin and some showtunes (a dead giveaway that you're in an actor's car).

Aaaaaaanyway, the point being that when Sam & I would go to the Baylands in Palo Alto to make out in my (dad's) '81 Oldsmobile with the big back seat (like this, only white/beige - we called it El Presidente), inevitably a tape from one of our respective collections would be providing the soundtrack for our own real-life John Hughes movie (seriously - replace Chicago with San Francisco and slightly fewer bold pranks, and Ferris Bueller's Day Off *was* my senior year in high school). So whenever I hear "End of the Party" by The Beat, with Dave Wakeling's very '80s crooner voice dramatically professing love for the girl in question, I flash back to those times. More fondly now, not quite as painful. I just thought I would share some of that history. Sappy? Sure. Like I said, we lived in a John Hughes movie.

She said to leave it till
the end of the party
Do it now, you know
there's never a next time
How come the feeling
that it's only just started
Pull back your cover,
I could love you for all time
But do it now,
you know there's never a next time.

The bees are busy,
Now there's gold on the hill
The branches waving
But our hearts are wrapped up inside
And then you leave me,
so I start missing you a lot
No argument oh do I love you or not
No argument,
you have all the love that I see as mine
Pull back your cover,
I could love you for all time
But do it now
you know there's never a next time.

You know Wakeling was speaking to a whole generation of kids coming of age at the time, otherwise why would Hughes have crammed his soundtracks with so many of his songs?

So, as you may have guessed, this post is neither here nor there... Just rambling and sharing memories. And maybe sharing the imperative: do it now, you know there's never a next time.

Holidays Upon Us

For various reasons, some more obvious than others, we didn't quite get around to shooting a family holiday photo last year. This year, however, the kids and I agreed that being back in our own home was cause for celebration, what with all that has occurred in the last 365 days. So we got the new tree, decorated it, had the fireplace going, and snapped a few shots with the digital camera on my still tripod. The lighting came out looking warm and even, which makes us quite lovely (heh). Tyler's in his sweats, Kayleigh in her PJs. Just like Christmas morning.

Christmas (for me) came early in the form of Autumn's Grey Solace's latest CD from Projekt Records. I'm in shoegazer heaven. Wiley & I both went to our respective groomers today, and now I have a belly full of Taco Del Mar, so I must do as the Spanish do, and take a short siesta this afternoon. When I am Dictator For Life, the siesta will be among the first institutions adopted and mandated. You WILL have a nap after lunch, and you'll LIKE it!

So, yes, what was I saying? Ah - had a postmortem for the film on Sunday with Sally, Darlene and Sally's husband Justin, who is our production accountant. Then had a meeting with the sound designer. Today I got a great call from the actor who played... well, ME, essentially. Such a great group of people... I really can't say enough good-and-gushy about them! Then I got a call from the editor, who said he was interested in potentially forming a production group with Sally, Justin and me. He has done the HD video capture from the camera, and says it looks AMAZING. Huzzah! I'll check it out later this week when I retrieve the camera.

I also got email out of the blue from a gal I did theater with back in junior high! The embarrassing thing was I didn't remember we had a stage kiss! Of course, much of my early teens is a giant, hormonally-crazed blur. I'm sure I'm not alone in being able to remember what happened to me at age four, but having fourteen mostly a blank. Ah well... it's cool to catch up!

Anyway... I'm sure there is more, but right now the Dictator For Life has mandated a siesta. Hasta~

DGIs and What We Want to Hear

I haven't really gone into a lot of the terminology that we in the "widda" community use, mostly because I really don't identify as a "widda" so much as a guy trying to live his life under difficult circumstances. But there is one term for a whole section of the populace, a section I've encountered a lot since losing Samantha. The DGI, or Don't-Get-It.

Anyone who has suffered the loss of an immediate family member has encountered someone who told them "they're in a better place."* Or, "It's been X days/months/years. It's time to move on with your life." That's a DGI.

* Really? Better than alive and interacting with a family that loves them dearly? Maybe he/she should have been allowed to choose where he/she would like to be right now. If life on Earth is so bloody awful, why do we persist in it? Anyway, you get the picture.

So I'm reading Go Go Yubari's blog and she in turn has a link to another fellow widda's blog, which contains the perfect rundown of what most of us absolutely do NOT want to hear, and what we do...

Just got back from seeing David Whyte recite from his new book (which is a huge compilation of old and new work from 1984 to present). Most of the pieces were about experiences at holy places in Ireland. But some were very personal, transformational insights into loss and the cyclical continuity of life. The autobiographical Tempus Omnia Revelat describes his father's passing with such beauty and reverance that I found myself wiping tears when he'd finished.

This part of a piece called Ancestral stuck with me:

Each life a traveler
not yet really arrived
like passing strangers,
the lanterns
half cloaked,
showing a glimmer
at the doors
of the living,
half
looking for
shelter,
half wanting
to stumble on
beyond us
to what waits,
some place perhaps
in the brimming dark
where
the story ends.


Powerful stuff, that. 'Nuff said.

FIFTY BOXES.

That's right. Fifty.

After weeks of negotiating with the RestorX manager who worked on my case, I thought we'd hit on a workable deal. They would drop off 10 or 20 boxes a week for a couple weeks, making the sort-through a managable affair. So imagine my surprise when the truck arrived fully loaded with everything from the flood AND fire. Everything. While I'm quite happy to see how many photos and videotapes survived, there are unfortunately several issues at work here:

1. I don't have room to store fifty boxes inside with any semblance of organization, and my carport is open the the elements and leaks, so there is now a maze of cardboard, floor-to-ceiling in my downstairs hallway and my bedroom.
2. All of that old energy is now sitting back in my home.
3. A lot of this stuff is Sam's, and I was not prepared to deal with those memories and the attached emotions right now, all at once.
4. Some of this stuff is fire or flood damaged and had been written off, yet they are giving it back to me anyway, so I now have the task of throwing it out. Thanks, RestorX.
5. A roll of toilet paper?? A year-old 1/4 full bottle of lotion?? Yuck. Come on. All the toiletries were itemized and claimed. I don't need this crap back.
6. Most boxes are only packed half full; the rest of the space is taken up by brown packing paper - but here's where it gets fun: sometimes the packing paper is just wadded up to fill space, and SOMETIMES it actually contains something fragile - and I get to do the Easter egg hunt every time to make sure nothing fragile or valuable gets recycled.
7. They simply HAD to bring me all this stuff right before Christmas, so I have nowhere to store anything else.

Bottom line is, the settlement with RestorX's insurance carrier is still open, and it will not be closed before my family and I are compensated for the trauma of having our home burn, losing our family cat, any dump runs I have to make because of this garbage coming back, and my time spent unpacking.

Sorry for the rant, but it was a rude awakening. I made it through about 10 boxes yesterday, tossing out and consolidating.

Only forty more to go.