James Frey's Version of my Previous Post

Fourteen years ago, my senior year at an inner-city school known for its crack dealers, I wrote a two-hour epic play, written entirely in iambic pentameter, called "Valence," about a crack-addicted homeless boy who had memorized an antique set of encyclopedias. He knew nothing about events following 1923 nor, because of one missing volume, anything that begins with the letter O. The play became a finalist in Stephen Sondheim's venerable Young Playwrights Festival, earning me a trip to New York City, a lifetime of mentoring with a professional playwright (in my case, the channeled spirit of William Shakespeare), and a professional production directed by Peter Brook. It was a lot for a twenty-one-year-old (having been held back several years in school because of my love for crack). One of the judges shook my hand and said my play was "the most brilliant piece of literature to take the stage since Our Town" and "like listening to unicorns fuck." Later that night, we made spirited, animalistic love on the Empire State Building's observation deck and shared some crack. It was a priviledge sodomize such a talented, noteworthy woman.

(My previous post.)

Wendy Wasserstein 1950–2006

Fourteen years ago, my senior year of high school, I wrote a short play called "Valence," about a homeless boy who had memorized an old set of encyclopedias. He knew nothing about events following 1965 nor, because of one missing volume, anything that begins with the letter I. The play became a semifinalist in Stephen Sondheim's venerable Young Playwrights Festival, earning me a trip to New York City, some mentoring with a professional playwright (in my case, Kathleen Tolan), and a professional staged reading. It was a lot for a seventeen-year-old. One of the judges shook my hand and said said my play was "fascinating" and "a pleasure to hear." It was a priviledge meet such a talented, noteworthy woman.

Moment of silence for Wendy Wasserstein.

Naked Monkeys and Bags of Offal

I thought this deserved it's own post:

Homo sapiens drops among the biggest turds of any mammals. “Your adult fecal is larger in diameter than any animal you’ll ever run across, except a bear."

Thank you and good night.

Hamas & Songs

I can't stop laughing. As I've stated previously, I find the whole Palestinian/Israeli Conflict boring, stupid and useless. Nevertheless, the electoral victory of Hamas is downright hysterical. I haven't laughed like this since Hillary Clinton was elected to the U.S. Senate.

Rightwing crackpots have been carrying on for years about how we need to destroy terrorists, as if terrorism was something like the plague – an autonomous foreign agent or mere aberration in the progress of human affairs. The establishment of democracy, it was thought, would neutralize the poison engendered by militant theocracies. Well, that was pure bullshit and now we've got a democratically elected terrorist government to prove it.

Well George… guns haven't worked and neither has democracy. What are you going to try next? Prayer? Whatever you do, don't ever – EVER – pay attention to your critics on the Left. We're ungodly. And we're wrong. Unlike you. Right? Dipshit.

I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm talking about. I only dropped by LYRC to share Songs of Brazilian Birds.

OPEN THREAD THURSDAY

What will Lubow complain about this week? How will Fock work in a reference to "gay" or "pussy"? Will Karrin's desperate plea for a real conversation about something substantial go unheeded again? And what head-scratching non sequitur will Kelly use to break the tedium? It's all here in another installment of OPEN THREAD THURSDAY!

Chris Penn 1965–2006

"Let me say this out loud, 'cause I wanna get it straight in my head. You're saying that Mr. Blonde was gonna kill you, then when we got back, he was going kill us, take the satchel of diamonds, and scram. I'm right about that, right? That's correct? That's your story?"

"I swear on my mother's eternal soul that's what happened."

"The man you just killed was just released from prison. He got caught at a company warehouse full of hot items. He could've fuckin' walked. All he had to do was say my dad's name, but he didn't; he kept his fucking mouth shut. And did his fuckin' time, and he did it like a man. He did four years for us. So, Mr. Orange, you're tellin' me this very good friend of mine, who did four years for my father, who in four years never made a deal, no matter what they dangled in front of him, you're telling me that now, that now this man is free, and we're making good on our commitment to him, he's just gonna decide, out of the fucking blue, to rip us off? Why don't you tell me what really happened?"

Moment of silence for Chris Penn.

Simply because it deserves to be linked...

The 50 Most Loathesome People in America, via Kottke.

Pay special attention to #4. I sure did.

Links for Lubow

Since I consider him a friend, it pained me to learn that Lubow was emotionally damaged so terribly by my last post. To try and make amends, here are some Lubow-friendly links.

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10

Shame on Apple? Not really...

Don't worry, this post is not about the virtues of OS X over Windows. It's about the responsibility of creative vendors.

There's flak galore concerning Apple's Intel ad, namely that it freakishly resembles a strangely hypnotic music video for a song I really like. Then it was discovered that both the television commercial and the video had the same directors, leading many to say either (a) so it's no big deal, or (b) Apple blatantly ripped off The Postal Service by hiring the same team.

Obviously the true answer is B, but is Apple really to blame?

Take the similar occurrence that befell Apple last year, when an iPod ad bore a striking resemblance to an ad for ugly-ass shoes (click "Archive," then "Lugz"). The color palette is exactly the same, the environment, the tone—you'd have to be blind not to see the similarities. The shoe company filed a cease and desist order.

Images come to mind of Steve Jobs sitting at home watching MTV and MTV2 on one of those Apple plasma screens we were supposed to see two weeks ago, looking for visual fodder to swipe... except that he wouldn't do such a thing. This guy once agonized over a calculator interface. Apple knowingly ripping off other's advertising? Preposterous.

The blame rightly falls upon Apple's advertising firm, TBWA\Chiat\Day. C\D gave the world the 1984 ad and the iPod silhouette aesthetic, so there must be some pretty smart folks there. And yet, an art director sees The Postal Service video and says, "That'd be GREAT for the Intel ad! Let's hire the same guys to do the EXACT SAME THING! And we'll license a song by MOBY! Moby's a CHEAP WHORE!"

As my friend Val put it, "I am surprised. You would think Apple could afford their own ideas." However, it's the advertising company's job to bring those big ideas to justify their big invoices. Yes, Apple can afford their own ideas (and improve on the ideas of others), but Apple can also afford to tell C\D to get their shit together. Otherwise, a black mock turtleneck will pay a visit to DDB or Arnold. If your vendor is risking your ass getting dragged into court, its time to fire your vendor.

Now if you want to bash Apple for not including an s-video port on the MacBook Pro, I'm with you.

Wilson Pickett 1942—2006

I know this obit is a few days old, but frankly, I know very little about the man. However, his relevance to me personally was driven home this morning, so I had to post it.

(And all this time, you thought "Mustang Sally" was only from that overrated Irish movie.)

Moment of silence for Wilson Pickett.

OPEN THREAD THURSDAY

I'm holding my breath.

I hope Bill understands that to have a "debate" means talking to someone with an opposing viewpoint...

By submitting an entry, you grant to Sponsor and its affiliated companies, the right, except where prohibited by law, to use your name, likeness, picture, address (city and state), e-mail address, voice, biographical information and written or oral statements, for advertising and promotional purposes in promoting or publicizing Sponsor, Bill O’Reilly, and their products or services, without compensation unless required by law. You shall have no right of approval, no claim to compensation, and no claim (including, without limitation, claims based on invasion of privacy, defamation, or right of publicity) arising out of any use, blurring, alteration, or use in composite form of your name, picture, likeness, address (city and state), e mail address, biographical information, or entry. The rights granted under this paragraph shall extend to Sponsor and its affiliated companies with respect to all entrants in the Contest, including non-winners and winners.

Other than that, I don't see the harm in trying to convince Kelly to enter this contest. So what should the topic be? The environment (something Kelly knows a lot about)? Activist judges? Genitorture?

(Via Crooks and Liars.)

Maybe the Bush Administration Just Likes Watching People Die

At my job, I only have InDesign on my computer. However, it can't do everything, and I need to pull out my Powerbook every once in a while to use Photoshop or Illustrator. Hey, it happens.

All of us in office jobs at one time or another have had to use a personal email address or home phone or other personal resource to accomplish our job. Often we're rewarded with praise for our sacrifice. When it happens enough, our employers will say, "Gee, maybe we need to get something like that for everyone." Makes sense, right? If your employer continues to take advantage of your good will, you bring it up in your review. Perhaps you start looking for a new job. Nevertheless, you have options.

So imagine that you have to buy your own body armor so you don't die, but if you die anyway trying to protect yourself, you forefeit your life insurance benefits. Oh, and you can't really quit your job.

I'm typing with one hand because my other hand is supporting my shaking head.

(Update: fixed a mistake in the title at 2:18pm CST.)

Justice Sunday

Poll Shows Majority of Americans Support Impeaching Bush.

OPEN THREAD THURSDAY

Yesterday, Kelly sent me a link. Knowing Kelly and his typical links, I decided I should ask whether or not I could view it at work. His response was, "Wait until you get home. Unless you want to experience what it's like to be fired while you're vomiting." So I waited until I got home, and I wish I had kept waiting. What Kelly sent me caused me permanent brain damage. Goatse (safe link) is comparatively nothing. I'll just say this: I giggled through the electrodes and the firecrackers, but the razor blades made sick. I can turn my computer off, but I can't seem to turn off my brain.

Dr. Pseudonym Cripples "Let's Roll"

LYRC is proud to present the third installment of our fantastically successful ongoing series: “Dr. Pseudonym Reviews A DVD From Under A Rock Someplace”. Enjoy.

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Shortly after you hit the play button on Murderball, you'll see a parade of production company logos. Right when the MTV Films logo appears is a good time to hit stop and watch instead a particular episode of Frontline, the one entitled, "The Merchants of Cool". The episode is as fine an articulation of the plot behind Murderball as you are likely to find. As Frontline's online synopsis has it:

The "midriff" -- the character pitched at teenage girls -- is the highly-sexualized, world-weary sophisticate that increasingly populates television shows such as Dawson's Creek and films such as Cruel Intentions. Even more appealing to marketers is the "midriff's" male counterpart, the "mook." Characterized mainly by his infantile, boorish behavior, the "mook" is a perpetual adolescent: crude, misogynistic--and very, very, angry.

But also very lucrative. To appeal to the "mook," MTV has created programs such as Spring Break -- a televised version of teen beach debauchery -- as well as a weekly program capitalizing on the current wrestling craze.

"What this system does is it closely studies the young, keeps them under constant surveillance to figure out what will push their buttons," says media critic Mark Crispin Miller. "And it blares it back at them relentlessly and everywhere."

Forget Roger Ebert's invocation of Hoop Dreams or that he thinks Murderball will teach you something invaluable about the human will. What you get in reality is the MTV highly designed, closed, relentless mook feedback loop. There is no need for plot when you have a handy consumer checklist of mook demands: a more or less random order of scenes concerned with violence, blood, jacking off, sports, partying, male-hierarchy intimidation ("go fuck eggs, boy"), physical suffering, freakishness (accidents and deformities), pranks and hijinx, wrestling, heavy metal, patriotism, dreams of greatness, abusive fathers, the brotherhood of battle. Its humor and its celebration of physical sacrifice make it the perfect pathetic mash up of an Army recruitment video and Jackass.

It is a deep study in the delicacies of manipulation—how the midriff coyly shares that her attraction to her quadriplegic boyfriend is based on the fact that he's just a jock at heart, how you can be assured that stupidity and carelessness shouldn't really put an end to your kick-ass dreams of domination, how crippling your best friend will strangely -- no homo -- make you closer. Sure I destroyed myself by driving drunk, one player ironically gushes, but it was what I needed to play Murderball! That the movie concludes with a demonstration game before a group of legless and armless Operation Iraqi Freedom veterans is the cringing height of cynicism, and offensively makes my point for me. There's no such thing as foreign policy -- these American animals put their bodies on the line whether it's war or WWF! Get nailed by an IED or collapse in a marathon, it's all the same! You are willing to pay the price, you are willing to go the distance. Whether you're driving drunk or recreating on your dirt bike or cruising Tikrit, you show the motherfuckers what you're made of. Rock on! Your absent limb is your painful, awful red badge of courage. This is cinematic rationalization after the fact, self-indulgent do-you-have-what-it-takes emotional wallowing that puts one in mind of The Passion of the Christ, or Queen's "We Are the Champions" or some other neo-skinhead weepy. No time for losers, mook. That young woman with the missing left leg at Walter Reed who is wide-eyed over the totally pimped-out wheelchair? She's a winner, dude. A winner.

We can only hope that as we grow older we will have a more nuanced understanding of both masculinity and femininity than that advanced in this shitty, shitty movie. And hope that we come to a more sophisticated understanding of how at times we may be mere equipment in the deployment of power. We should also hope to have a more nuanced understanding of the potential of culture beyond merely glorying in the status quo language of winners and losers (Whoa, Johnny Knoxsville plays a winning retard with a heart of gold in The Ringer!). Good luck with that.

There are many people in this movie, but the filmmakers selected one, Zupan, as their star -- he's the angry young man on the boxcover and the movie poster -- and at one point he explains that they had to change the name of the sport to Quad Rugby because corporate sponsors wouldn't get behind something called Murderball. Yeah, right. Duped again, sucker.

Macworld 2006 Gripes

No, I still don't post Apple stories here, but if you want to read my brief take on today's annoucements and flame me for preferring OS X, you can do so here.

Embracing Fantasy

I found an old picture of myself. I was playing the character of John Barrymore in the play I Hate Hamlet when it was taken. I’m posting the picture because I will never look better. I know this. To be fair, in this photo I was wearing (quite obviously) several layers of makeup. Furthermore, I ran the image through a filter or two in Photoshop. But who cares? That’s me! I’ve decided to use this picture as my definitive photo for all internet dating sites I visit in the near future. What’s my point? Put your best foot forward. Fake it ‘til you make it – then fake it some more. Truth is truth, but what other people believe is never the truth anyway. Fulfill the fantasy. Deliver the dream. [Pause] I feel so tawdry.

ARLOdesign's Pitch to Your Theatre Company

If you live in the fatalistic "everything happens for a reason" camp (I live in the "that which does not kill you will only make you stronger" camp), then you would say that the reason I hooked up with Defiant Theatre was so I would discover my true calling to be a graphic designer. I gained a lot of skills in the off-loop theatre, ones that gave me some huge advantages in school.

I miss having a Defiant Theatre. I miss having a new challenge thrown at me every so often: how to describe a particular show with an image, how to cram a ton of copy into a tri-fold brochure, how to enable others to edit the website. I need a new challenge. And I know that someone out there doesn't want those challenges anymore.

If you or someone you know operates a theatre company that can't afford a graphic designer (or could but would prefer a volunteer), contact me. I'm looking for a theatre company that needs (or simply wants) someone to design everything.

You want awesome marketing materials, and I'm offering to make them pro-bono.

What do I get? Something totally killer for my portfolio: a complete [re]branding of an organization. And therein lies the biggest part of this request. When I say I'm looking for a theatre company that needs someone to design everything, I mean everything:

• Logo (new or redesigned)
• Stationery
• Web site
• Brochures
• Posters/postcards
• Development collateral
• Etc. etc. etc.

I want to build your entire marketing package, your look and feel. I want to define your standards. I'm not saying I want to write your mission statement; I want to take your mission statement and create the marketing embodiment of that mission statement.

So... interested? Email me. Tell me about your company. Let's meet up for coffee and see if we can be partners.

Questions? Post them in the comments.

UPDATE: Just so I'm clear: One of the big problems I see in small companies is a lack of consistency in marketing materials, aesthetic and quality consistency. If you already have a logo that you like or your brother already put together a web site you think kicks ass, I'm probably not your guy. I'm looking for a company for which nothing is off-limits; if customers see it before they buy a ticket, then I want a shot at it. You're logo may be great, but it may need tweaks to fit into a full branding scheme. I'm not saying I want to do it without your input; I just want a group of very open minds to work with. Cool?

Today

Today's Quote (again with the antiquities):

The Gothic arms were less fatal to the school of Athens than the establishment of a new religion, whose ministers superseded the exercise of reason, resolved every question by an article of faith, and condemned the infidel or sceptic to eternal flames.

Today's link: Indiana lawmakers huddle and chant "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus".

Today's video: Classic Family Guy Puking Clip.

OPEN THREAD THURSDAY

It's the first Open Thread Thursday of the new year. Make it count.

Easy Target Nailed

OGM has the Letterman + O'Reilly clip. Sometimes television is actually fun to watch.

Next Goal: Become Sane

In 1996, my senior year at Virginia Tech, I swallowed a pretty decent chunk of a bottle of Tylenol PM. Fortunately, all it made me do was sleep (it didn't cause any liver damage), but it did land me in a mental institution for a week-and-a-half. That was the first time I was formally diagnosed with clinical depression.

As far as I can tell, I've only mentioned that I suffer from depression on the blog twice, once in a comment and once in a post. So why mention it so specifically now? Because it's my next big hurdle. I figured out what I wanted to do, went to school, and finished with high marks and a bright career ahead of me. Now, with no worries about my career, I can focus on my relationships with loved ones and with myself.

Ten years after I attempted suicide, I'm still struggling with depression. I can't help but think that particular actions I've taken have ruined everything and that I should just give up. I still lose sleep worrying about nothing in particular. I still get distracted from important tasks dwelling on regrets from high school. I don't believe anyone who thinks depression is just a mood or a demeanor or a particular personality—its a debilitating disease that affects your daily life. (Don't get me wrong; there are far worse debilitating diseases. I'm not that arrogant.)

During those past ten years, I didn't do such a good job managing my depression. I took my medication off and on. I still got intoxicated with whatever was available. I probably made things worse. Now, things are different. There is no other concern in my life more important than managing my mental health.

I take 150 to 300 mg of Wellbutrin every day. I see a psychiatrist once a week; now that I'm done with school, I will probably start seeing the doctor twice a week. I don't smoke pot anymore, I've been cigarette free for nearly a week, and I limit myself to no more than two or three drinks. I really need to start exercising, I know.

The hardest task is changing my behavior. Depression has affected my choices for 31 years, and I'm now going through the difficult process of learning new decision-making skills. I'm going to make mistakes, some egregious ones, every day for the rest of my life. I'm learning to accept those mistakes as lessons, not mortal failures.

And therein lies the one problem with this goal: it's not one that I can truly achieve. I believe, though, a day will come where I'll look back without any regrets, proud of what I've achieved personally. On that day, I will have succeeded.

Finally, the only reason Tom Cruise hates psychiatrists is because he refuses to admit he needs one.

We now return to scathing indictments of the government.

(WebMD has good resources concerning depression.)

Gang Warfare

Earlier this morning I wrote a few ridiculous paragraphs with the intention of posting them here on LYRC. Unfortunately, they were unreadable and stupid – so I deleted them. Fortunately, this post by Kos pretty much says what I was trying to say. (FYI: the knuckleheads over at Power Line have a flaccid rebuttal).

Frankly, I'm beginning to find politics is ruining my humor. On the train to work this morning I read a comprehensive account of the Nika riots; it struck me how similar America's political dichotomy resembles nothing so much as "greens" v. "blues" in 532 A.D. Back then, the colors of sport had gradually come to be associated with every kind of sectarian division in society (including discrepancies of faith, political alliance, and class distinction). Just so today. How else can we account for the GOP's endorsement of Intelligent Design? Or domestic spying? Or, for that matter, the Left's abandonment of the principals of Nation Building? The concept of political moderation is derided from both sides and the tendency to see all things as falling under one of two banners is childish and destructive.

Don't misunderstand. I still think the Republicans are howling incarnations of pure evil. I'm just saying...

UNRELATED: The Cute Factor & open sesame (NSFW).

What I Learned in School (2005 Year in Review)

In past year-in-review posts (2002, 2003, 2004), the focus has been on the world, with a small part relegated to my personal life and a brief bit about my favorite album of the year. I can't really do that this year. This year, I have to talk about what I've accomplished.

I finally graduated, yippee. Especially my final quarter: the rigors of completing a portfolio, a 64-page annual report redesign, my bi-weekly part time freelance gig, my full-time job, attempting to see my friends, and trying to spend quality time with my girlfriend that didn't involve one asking the other to trim and mount artwork fresh from the printer--I'm still amazed that I did it. But do it I did.

So, this post isn't nearly as much 2005 in review as it is the past three-and-a-half years in review. And in the long-standing American tradition of end-of-the-year numerical lists, I present two:

Five most important things my teachers taught me:

• Work it out in your sketchbook before touching the computer.
• Thumbnail with a pen, not a pencil, so you can't erase and second guess yourself.
• Someone has already thought of your first solution. Keep thumbnailing until you surprise yourself.
• Know why you're breaking a rule before you break it.
• As paradoxical as it sounds, your design becomes clearer when you stand back and squint.

And, more importantly...

13 things I learned that my teachers did NOT teach me:

• Don't try to escape from your past. Use it.
• Learning is an active process, and it isn't easy.
• Letratac is better than Studiotac. It sticks better, it's easier to clean up, and its cheaper.
• To paraphrase the final episode of the original BBC version of The Office: It is better to be at the bottom of a ladder you want to climb than to be halfway up one you don't.
• Keep your markers in the refrigerator. The alcohol doesn't evaporate, and the markers won't dry out.
• There is truth to be found in all criticism.
• Gradient fills and drop shadows are fine as long as you have a reason to use them.
• When challenging authority, use an amount of respect that is inversely proportional to the threat to your mortality.
• A work of art is never completed; it is merely abandoned.
• When someone asks "why," he or she can tell when you make up the answer off the top of your head.
• If its a font that comes with Windows, don't use it. (Exception: web design, where you rarely have a choice.)
• InDesign is better than Quark. (Does anyone still willingly use Quark?)
• Never be in it for the money.

Kicking hyperbole to the curb, it can only be stated that finishing my degree is my most important accomplishment to date. I'm glad to be back.

As for the politics of 2005, I think it can be summed up very easily: After Katrina, Social Security, and the Supreme Court, anyone who still thinks Bush is a good president at this point is either a stupid skinny bitch or a fat-ass blowhard.

Happy New Year, everyone.