Accidental Excellence

The summer of 2005 I read the Pulitzer Prize winning novel A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole because I had heard countless great reviews. One person I knew and trusted counted it as one of his favorite books ever of any genre. At the time, there was even talk of the book having been optioned for movie rights. A script was being developed! Casting possibilities were being tossed about!

I am someone who believes strongly that the movie never lives up to the book and I try to have read the book prior to seeing the movie. Having recently stopped touring with Ringling Brothers and now having the luxury of using a library card, the time was ripe for me to dive into this classic of American literature. What I experienced was less than heartening. In fact, it enforced my prejudice that any work called "a classic of American literature" tends to be overrated and was judged as such in a way similar to how the Apostle's Creed was constructed and decided upon.

I made my way through the book with dogged determination, intent on finishing the task I set before myself. I was going to give this book every chance I would like someone to give a work of mine, were I an author. Being an improv actor and a clown, I was sure there had to be a payoff. It had to be good because I was earning it, taking to the pages with the work ethic of a miner.

No such luck. I reached the end and there was no payoff. Thus began my personal vendetta against this so-called classic of American literature, this supposed paragon of parody. I did not enjoy one thing about the book.

Fast forward to my introduction to the Goodreads website. I forget which of my friends led me to it, but I fastidiously began to recount any books that I had read in recent years or ever. I am not one to write reviews on such sites, but I made an exception for A Confederacy of Dunces. I dumped my standard attempts to disagree without being disagreeable and just laid into it as briefly and explicitly as I could, letting all who were interested know of my caustic hatred for this book. Little did I know what I was doing when I wrote that simple paragraph.

My extreme dislike for the book expressed itself in an interestingly accurate mimicry of Ignatius Reilly. That wasn't my intent at all and it took a few years and a few comments for me to realize what I had done. My opinion of the book hasn't changed, but now I am amazed by what I wrote and how the book affected me so much that I took enough from it to produce a fleeting bit of parody that is probably better than anything I've ever written.

Language Learning

In recent years, I have begun to learn a little more about people by listening to how they use language. Equally as important, I have begun to learn more about how I use language by listening to how other people use it.

Yebisu Taste Test

Last month I visited the humble Yebisu Beer Museum in Ebisu, Tokyo, Japan. Naturally, I had to engage in a little taste testing and documented my taste test of the Crescent Moon beer cocktail on my iPad with 2camshoot. The maiden voyage went quite smoothly, if I do say so myself (which I do).



For more information about 2camshoot and to download it, visit www.2camshoot.com.

Be in the Moment, Be Honest

Just a bit over a week ago, HUGE Theater celebrated the second anniversary of its soft opening with the Second Annual Improvisor of the Year Awards. I attended last year's awards, had a blast, and was warmed through and through by the talent and community that filled the room. I was frustrated that I couldn't attend this year because of work, so I asked about sending in a video, which was an idea that took off. Everyone who had moved away in the past year or who was out of town was encouraged to send in a video. This would be stellar!

I immediately concerned myself with what to film and how to film it. I began to concern myself with being funny, which is doom. The more someone in improv starts focusing on being funny, the increased likelihood there is of missing good moments and flailing on stage. Looking desperate or like you're trying too hard is not as funny. No matter how much some spectators and some improvisors like to think improv is all about being funny, at its core it really isn't at all.

The worry led to procrastination. Eventually, I lost the chance to include video of the circus tent or the giraffe and just filmed outside of my childhood home in West Des Moines, Iowa where my Dad still lives. In the end, I decided that I would just say what's in my heart, live in the moment, and work from a place of honesty.

It's not a funny video at all, and I'm sure that the videos other associates of mine submitted were far more entertaining. I'm just happy I whipped out a video greeting full of words and sentiment that I hope resonated with people as much as they resonated with me.

There was a space in my brain right behind my eyes where I was crying.

(It's important to note that the Splendid Things and Gay/Straight Alliance sets I mention in the video happened at Improv-A-Go-Go – a HUGE Theater production – shortly before it moved to the HUGE theater space. It's still a HUGE thing.)

Saitama Rundown

2-show days: 32 = 64 shows
3-show days: 20 = 60 shows
4-show days:   3 = 12 shows
_______________________

total days:       55
total shows:            132 shows

bonus count – crapping elephant shows: 45
                       shows without elephants: 4
                       shows with new 'phants : 11
                       new 'phant crapping shows: 0

Missing Minnesota: Babes

There used to be this band in Minneapolis that were not only favorites of the Twin Cities music scene in the 90s, but also still serve as a memory anchor to my early Twin Cities experience.

I first heard Babes in Toyland's "Sweet 69" on "120 Minutes" on MTV back when it used to show music videos. The song was so heavy and gritty and catchy that it still gets stuck in my head on even the worst of days. I first saw them live at Lollapalooza 1993 and was blown away. I would be blown away again once I moved to Minneapolis and started working at First Avenue.

Before the band called it quits and the women went their separate ways they still played a few shows after I had moved up there. What blew me away the second time was not their music, but their actions when they were off stage. Kat, Lori, and Maureen would come down to First Avenue or the 7th Street Entry to see a band they liked and/or to support other friends' bands, or in quite a few cases as it is in the Twin Cities: a friend's other band. They were never self-important and were always gracious customers, utterly respectful to employees and other club-goers alike. They tipped well and always said "Thank you." Their heads and attitudes were never big.

They weren't rock stars; they were Twin Citizens who just happened to have rocking as their career. They were one of the things that remind me of something that is pure Twin Cities.

WAMA: Defending George Lucas

WAMA: Who Asked Me Anyway?

Nobody, that's who. But after a couple of comments I've recently made on friends' Facebook status threads, I thought this could spark a good little thing to add to my blogging efforts, especially when I am admittedly a bit proud of what I wrote. And so when such a situation arises, I shall cut and paste the text I typed and include it in these pages.

I just began two sentences with prepositions – is that driving you nuts?

The topic of this exhibit: George Lucas selling Lucasfilm to Disney for $4 billion. As another individual somewhere on the internet (maybe a friend of a friend – I don't remember) put it, this is not Michael Eisner's Disney. This is a Disney that owns Pixar, but not its heart and soul. This is a Disney that bought Marvel, but under which Marvel's cinematic offerings have been consistently excellent.

Someone commented on a friend's status post about George Lucas "selling out" to Disney, and that started my fingers rolling:

"I don't think "sold out" is correctly applied here. He had already been turning over Lucasfilm to Kathleen Kennedy after _Redtails_ came out, Disney World has been doing Star Wars Days for a few years, not to mention the man had the foresight to retain licensing right to the intellectual property since toy deals from the first movie.

In recent interviews he has repeatedly said that he wouldn't be making any more Star Wars movies, due in part to fans giving him such grief over the results of his recent work. Furthermore, it's perfectly in line with his intent to back out of the major studio/blockbuster system and produce work closer to his personal sensibilities.

To sum up: the man was done and to hold on to the whole kit and kaboodle would make him unhappy. Or he could hand it off at a time when he was more than financially secure and thereby secure even more money to finance his future endeavors while most likely striking a deal that would let Lucasfilm hold a good deal of control much in the way Pixar did and Marvel so far seems to have done. So if he's in a position to pursue his dream on his terms with security and fewer strings attached, how exactly is that selling out? Or are we going along with the idea that success must be coupled with misery and dead weight?"

If George Fricking Lucas gets treated as cavalierly and dismissively as Spike Fricking Lee – another man thankfully able to make movies on his own terms – by Hollywood movers and shakers because he wants to make a movie about Black People, starring Black People, without some Great White Hope/Help magnanimously Making It Possible for Justice to be Done, then you know the system is as screwy as a lot of people say it is. Add that to decades of dealing with the grousing of grown men and women who just can't get the hell over Ewoks and Jar Jar Binks like adults, and I don't blame the man for taking his toys and his money and handing the car keys to someone else.

But who asked me anyway?