Barnyard Devil

Heaven Like A Twinkie

2011-06-01T03:06:00.004-08:00

No one likes a shitstorm

Heaven is like a Twinkie in the bottom of your lunch sack. Something you might look forward to, tastes good going down, but in the end is a bunch of crap.

If there is a pleasant home to go to, then I guess not much matters. With cruelties, suffer them and let them go.

But if the powerful and cruel are all there is, then there are many creatures who get nothing but a shitstorm of degradation and abuse at the will of others for the entirety of their life and then it ends.

So, just in case, pull people out of the shitstorm when you can. It might be all they have.

The Grass Is Green

2011-04-22T01:20:00.002-08:00

When you think you're taking up space, wasting oxygen and others time.

When you believe that you will never take your own life, but you spend your days searching in vain for some alternative to your despair.

When God either doesn't exist or doesn't answer.

Drugs and alcohol offer only side effects.

Your body is free to come and go, but you suffer inside a prison of your mind.

Regress.

Forgotten all you know.

Watch as others re-invent the same wheel you re-invented in your own youth, then march to the podium to claim victory and spoils as you fall to the wayside.

Realize you have only succeeded in some esoteric manner, which they tell you only so you don't have to face the fact you have not succeeded at all...

Change something, or suffer purgatory.

Grass is green somewhere, brother.

Lay down in it.

Smokin' Good

2011-04-10T21:32:00.010-08:00

Mac n' Cheese

But First...

I have started another blog.

49th Films will focus on screenwriting and filmmaking, with an emphasis on Alaskan writers and filmmakers.

Whenever I visit one of my favorite blogs they are all pretty specific on what their subject matter is. Barnyard Devil began as a personal writing exercise and never stopped. It will continue until the tank runs dry, but...

... 49th Films will strive to stay on topic.

On That Note

Been feeling particularly down this year, even with all my good fortunes. So I thought of as many great restaurant meals as I could remember.

Great meals are among my fondest memories. Right up there with travel, sex, and firefighting.

Now I focused on restaurant meals, but that doesn't mean I have forgotten all the homemade ones, or those made by friends.

Those cannot be beat.

No restaurant meal - not even the most fantastic restaurant meal I have ever had hands down second to none, that stupendous meal Rhonda and I had at Melisse in Los Angeles - no restaurant meal compares to great home cooking.

Something about taking the time to get the sauce right, a good base, the extra care when it's a friend or family member's special occasion.

The back-deck in summer, creek running, cold beer in hand, and that home-made razor-clam chowder comes out... Or that sockeye fillet, cooked in foil over briquettes and still moist, almost raw, inside... Or homemade chili, cooked down for hours, seventeen different flavors in every bite (ok, maybe sixteen)... Pasta sauces from scratch, on your second bottle of wine by the time dinner is served... Smoked salmon strips, with alder, hickory or mesquite for hours, dried to a sticky kippered-like jerky...

Like The Smoked Salmon I'm Eating Right Now

Yes folks, this may be a cruel tease for you, but I made sure I had relief in hand before I whetted my own appetite.

Just finished smoking a second batch. Some friends brought us some sockeye they had vacu-sealed as we didn't make it dipnetting last summer.

None too soon.

To begin the smoke-salmon cravings this early usually leads to drooling frustration, counting the days until the first salmon runs begin. But like I said - I had relief close by.

Can't have your cake and eat it too, though.

Staring at the deep red strips coated in spices and brown sugar can make for a wonderful evening, but you have to dig in a some point.

And then it is difficult to stop --

Oh Yeah, Restaurant Meals

Melisse, as mentioned. I never thought I could go gaga for a soft-boiled egg appetizer. And it wasn't just the food, the service as well. Fork dirty? It's already been replaced. For us, maybe a once in a lifetime dining event, which is cool, cuz it wasn't cheap.

Ca 'Del Sole, also in Los Angeles. Fantastic beef carpaccio with capers and parmesan, and an excellent gnocci in duck ragout. Ate there many times.

Giraffe, Los Angeles. Whatever soup was in that shot glass to start the meal off was of the 'I'll have another right now' kind of good.

Q-Shack, Durham, North Carolina. BBQ sandwiches and (when available) home-made buttercream frosted cupcakes.

Actually most any of the BBQ we ate during our stay in the American Southeast. While living in Durham we took a drive up to see friends in New England and along the way hit some awesome BBQ joint in Delaware - name and town escape me, sorry.

Fao Fao Beach Fales, Saleapanga, Samoas. The palusami they made us is my favorite dish ever.

Some sushi place in Honolulu, Hawaii. Name doesn't really matter, the memory is there. One of those 'eat what the chef puts in front of you' places. Great fish, but the best part was being treated to an excellent (and probably very expensive) bottle of sake by the two Japanese women we sat next to.

Diaz Cafe, Ketchikan, Alaska. I'm serious now. Some great Philippine cooking.

Having A Bad Day? Eat Something

Can't say that everyone. For some it would be like telling an alcoholic to crack a fifth when they're having a bad day.

But I can tell myself that.

And if there isn't a great meal nearby, remember one. And then open that box of Mac n' cheese and suck it up.

Harmful Impulses

2011-03-01T17:43:00.000-09:00

Intense core conflict

Just because 'time heals all wounds' doesn't mean you should act on a harmful impulse.

Took Sadie up Twenty-Mile today to play and listen to the ice cracking and shifting. Hard to make a film that shows the beauty of ice shifting and cracking so I left the camera home this time.

After a few quick tennis-ball throws (she has an injured shoulder), we sat on the river's edge and listened to the cracks and occasional deeper sounding 'whumps'.

Those are awesome and scary. They reverberate up and down river both directions and let you know something serious could be coming.

Sadie gave a few concerned looks, so I took her off the ice and higher onto the bank.

She relaxed. The wind got in her face more and she loves that.

Nostrils working overtime.

I've been alternating between Twenty-Mile river and Portage valley.

The other day we trekked through new snow towards Byron Glacier trail in Portage, then headed off down a frozen creek-bed towards the lake.

Only footprints were moose and rabbit.

Came across a little blood in the snow and found where a moose had shed one of its antlers.

We looked for the other one, but didn't find it. Hopefully he didn't have to walk around off-balance for too long.

I had my Go-Pro camera this day, and with the wind whipping dry snow across the ice I stopped to try and capture some shots ala the opening of The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser:

[Wind blowing through grain-field]
'Can you here the screaming? The screaming men call silence?'

After the antler find, the creek-bed grew narrower, the alders thicker.

Sadie went on leash cause I was trying to: Watch for moose, film swirling snow, not break through the ice, enjoy being alone in the silence...

I have never found silence to be screaming - although if you watch 'Kaspar Hauser' you'll better understand the movie quote above.

Desert silence is peaceful.

My favorite places are deserts. Hot or cold, wind-whipped, seemingly barren.

Their silence isn't really devoid of actual sound, but it does let you see things clearer. At least it helps me clear my jumbles.

Silence in a relationship screams.

Any relationship - friend, lover, husband, wife, co-worker.

Silence screams loud enough for people to take to the roof ledge sometimes.

Ever experience one of those long, silent screams? Goes on for months, then years, then seemingly a lifetime?

If you live long enough, time will heal that wound.

But why put yourself through it?

The best films usually strike a nerve (funny, sad, whatever) because they have managed to create intense conflict at their core. So if your life begins to sound like the quote from a movie, you probably have some intense conflict at the core.

If it didn't, though, would you be any happier?

Probably bored.

Which is why we act on harmful impulses.

And then spend long hours in sand and ice deserts trying to find peace again.

The Money-Pig Lesson

2011-02-25T02:25:00.003-09:00

Overheard at Anchorage coffee-shop. Three friends, two were apparently trying to school the third on how not to follow in their ill-fated footsteps in regards to job competition. Written from memory and artistic license taken. Enjoy, cuz I sure did...

Welcome, Friends

Did he really tell them 'Get the fuck out of Alaska'?

He did.

Just pretending to speak their language, so they would feel comfortable enough to hire him. Thinking they were in good hands.

What a pitch. Quite the salesman.

You might think he was full of shit, but he was simply giving them a snow-job.

Right up to the trendy non-prescription glasses.

He even knew when to throw in some humility: 'Now, that I can't help you with.'

After he let them know how helpful he could be ... Wow. He's so honest. Our guy.

And he was ... Their guy

Hey Guy

That's right, you.

She let him have it with that one. The way she said 'guy'.

Meant 'that's not cool' ... You are not cool.

I was working that angle before you even knew they were in town. I gave them your name for fuck's sake!

Fucker. Show some real humility. Not 'no, I don't need a coffee' humility.

And don't you dare flirt with me. You're a disgusting pig and you fart falseys.

After The Ball

The truth hangs around long after the dance.

She saw him for what he was when everyone else was sweet on him, drunk from spiked punch.

Now it's plain to see.

Except it doesn't matter. He's been paid. They got their money's worth. She's left holding a bag of 'what really happened'

If anyone cares to look.

Sour grapes, they might say.

So she swallows her humiliation and anger, hoping she can digest it and not carry it around inside her.

Can You Believe Those Pansy Jerkwads

Fleeced 'em.

You should have fleeced them as well. Get on board, boy. You're not doing yourself, or us, any favors trying to be their friend.

They ain't you're friend. You're a novelty to them, so sell them the novelty. Up the ass.

You are so full of shit. You're of no real help at all. They're going to nod, and jump, and slap your back, and look like fools in the process.

And then they will be gone, and I will be paid.

Get the fuck out of Alaska?

Damn straight. And stay out. And when their friends come up to get some we will treat them as the wide-eyed gapers they are. Guide them through the pitfalls of this magic foreign land.

You are a truck load of bad juju. For them, you, and all the rest of us.

I'm paid motherfucker.

You'll get yours

Uh-huh.

And Here Comes The Bus

Get on board motherfucker, ain't time to waste. You want to come peacefully, or do we need to cattleprod your ass onto this bus?

Now sit and shut and and we'll explain what's happening over the next couple days -- Bathroom in the rear, make sure to pump the tank or it gets ripe for all of us.

The money-pig is here.

Ain't nothing else to it.

See?

We're breaking this bank open before it rolls on somewhere else.

You follow?

Gold rush

And we're selling shovels.

Trickle out, not down

Also trickles in ... to well-positioned pockets.

All about money

Hey. If money can change how a person votes, it most definitely can change the comfort of your mattress.

Competition

Is always tough.

You're always being sized up.

If you catch yourself stewing over some minor foul, heads up. You're already on the tracks and chances are you're about to be railroaded.

Friends, turned enemies, will be friends again. So watch out.

Surf outside waters only when prepared. And at peril.

Oh, and...

Never strike in anger.

Ambitious No-Budget Labor Of Love

2011-02-13T19:19:00.018-09:00

The Treasure of Hard Times

Hello Re-writes

Two of my screenplays recently made semi-finalists for Francis Ford Coppola's American Zoetrope screenplay competition this year.

That's three different scripts over past couple years (another made semis in Nicholl Fellowship competition).

Nothing more than carrots really, but I love them. Keeps me moving forward.

I re-read each script immediately, convinced I have something good this time, and end up wondering how the hell it made it as far as it did!

So, another re-write to get it up to snuff.

Like I said, keeps me from looking back.

Goodbye Girdwood

My Leaving A Town posts from a few years back addressed this in passionate detail, so I'll keep it simple this time...

I returned to Girdwood. Didn't want to, for fear I'd get stuck here.

Got stuck.

House is really for sale this time, though.

Good thing I'm in not position to buy the others shares in the house, or I might.

Then I'd really be stuck. My promise to myself was to not be in Girdwood a day past August 31st, 2010.

Fuck it. I've kept enough promises during my life.

Now I've promised never to keep another promise.

Kind of win/win.

See You Again Real Soon

I realize I haven't posted since last September.

Kind of took a break, cruised off some of the older posts for a while.

Fun watching which posts keep getting attention. Not always the one's I like, or where I thought I did my best writing, but the ones you might expect would get hit by people with so many links and so little time.

Does it have a pretty picture? A how-to article? A famous (or almost famous) person?

Your chances improve.

Someone trying to emulate Kurt Vonnegut, John Steinbeck, e.e. cummings?

Yeah...no. Too many links, too little time.

I spend way more time on the internet than I ever did watching the boob-tube as a kid.

Although I am watching lots of DVDs lately. At least one a night. Sometimes two.

It's been a cold winter.

Movies I've Watched Lately:

Hard Times - Revisit this even if you've seen it before. Definitely watch it if you never have. Charles Bronson at peak of his form. If you want more proof how powerful a performance can be with few words go to IMDb page for Hard Times, under 'opinions' click on post titled 'Everything Chaney says in the movie'.

Black Swan - A woman at my nephew's hockey game couldn't believe I liked this movie. She asked if it was because of the 'lesbian stuff'. Yes...no. But I thought it one of the best pictures of the year and had lesbian and masturbation scenes. Natalie Portman amazed me in this. Definitely dark, though. Not for Adam Sandler die-hards.

True Grit - Didn't like it. I think everyone is afraid to tell the Coen brothers if anything of theirs isn't working, because they are the Coen brothers and have made many good films. Every actor (except Matt Damon and the guy who barters with Mattie over horses) talked as if they were kids playing 'cowboys and indians'. Jeff Bridges carried no weight in my opinion. He tried to act like he had some 'true grit', but it came across as theatrical. In the original, John Wayne embodied 'true grit'. I don't care if you hated his politics, blah, blah, his was the stronger performance. None of our heroes are so great if you hold them to the light anyway, so put away your Wayne hating and rent the original.

Trail Of '98 - Silent black & white about Alaskan Gold Rush. Wow. Holds up very well, and (I think) hits many bullet-points of that story in history. Better film than many today. The effects during the avalanche scene are very cool. Old-school layering of film. Visually more effective and powerful than many modern computer effects. This is listed in my 'history of film in Alaska' post, where I mentioned the budget was two million. Seems quite a bit for the time, but it is a very ambitious project. Get it at your local library (along with many other classics)!

Stone - With Robert DeNiro, Edward Norton, Milla Jovovich. I really enjoyed this film. I couldn't tell if it was good writing, solid acting, or great direction and editing - maybe all the above - but this film was solid and consistent.

Goodbye Solo - Love films that draw me in through character and pacing without having any idea where it's going. Not the type of script I imagine gets taught in 'so you wanna sell a screenplay' courses. Interestingly, the role of 'Crackhead taxi passenger' is played by Angus MacLachlan, who is the writer of 'Stone'.

Outland - Older Sean Connery outer-space flick. Bit of an 'Alien' feel in atmosphere (no space monster though). Not bad. They went to great detail to create the, well, details of life as a space-miner. Actually reminded me of life at McMurdo station in Antarctica. Climax was a bit generic.

The Passenger - With the recent death of Maria Schneider we decided to check out this film by Michelangelo Antonioni. I had never seen it despite my early years as an art-house film nerd. Enjoyed it. Another example of a story slowly unfolding through character and pacing, but gained my interest with every new moment. My favorite part is the final shot. Must have ran an entire can of film for one shot, but lots of detail in it. Oh yeah, Jack Nicholson stars as well.

The Tourist - Johnny Depp, Angelina Jolie. Why was this released?

Social Network - You've all seen it, and most likely enjoyed it. If you haven't, it starts off very strong and keeps going for a good while, but by the end I no longer cared. Bong hits, naked chicks, Justin Timberlake, young people making tons of money, friends getting screwed over. Makings of a good film, right? Well, it is technically solid all the way round. Thing is, I can watch 'Hard Times' and look forward to seeing it again down the line. With Social Network I don't think I could sit through it again.

Treasure Of The Sierra Madre - I bought it and don't regret a penny of it. Bogart.

Jonah Hex - The 'Hell hounds coming for you in death' was a cool, scary idea. Other than that the movie was boring. No tension.

Red - Older movie stars playing older CIA agents. We enjoyed this. Some fun moments. Nothing special, but good rental with pizza and wine. Type of film that feels shallow when it's over, but if you've had enough wine and pizza you just fall asleep and forget about it.

Misty Isle Out - Yes, after almost five years of avoiding it, I popped in a DVD copy of my own film. I actually thought I might never watch it again, but recently it was suggested by a friend that it would be nice to see it get some kind of distribution. 'Misty' was made before the digital age was really in full swing, and I realize now there are places it might find a home online. I'm sure anyone who read my take on the Coen brothers 'True Grit' will happily let me know how much my movie sucks. As for my personal take, jury's still out.

Probably impossible to critique your own work, so I will call it an 'Ambitious no-budget labor of love.'

Which is sometimes how life begins.

This Movie Was Shot In Alaska

2010-09-28T13:41:00.033-08:00

A Sleigh Load of Squaws

Alaska As Location

Since we've been on the subject of Alaska creating a tax-incentive to bring more 'Hollywood to Alaska' I decided to look into what has actually been filmed in Alaska over the years.

I started with a visit to the internet movie database (IMDb) and searched 'locations' for any project listing Alaska as a shooting location. There turned out to be thirteen pages of project titles. These included movies, television, and documentaries.

Many of these projects were not shot entirely in Alaska, but Alaska did serve as a location. Sometimes just for a scenic (2nd unit) shot of a glacier, river, or mountains.

Alaska Film Office

As mentioned in earlier posts, the Alaska Film Office has been brought back to life to join in the tax-incentive game some states are offering in order to entice the money and jobs a Hollywood production can drop in your lap.

Though it is not uncommon for a film to have locations in multiple states, the tax incentive is based on shooting the bulk of the production in the state in which it is offered. Essentially, the more money you spend here, the more we will return to you.

Part of the argument presented by Alaskan based film production people who worked to get a tax incentive approved was that:

We are tired of seeing Alaska as the subject of a movie that wasn't even shot here! If it takes place in Alaska, shoot it in Alaska! We have qualified people too, and we'd like those jobs!

And with the current production Everybody Loves Whales shooting entirely (I think) in Alaska, that is a big step towards that goal. There have been local hires, and money is definitely being spent in businesses around Anchorage.

Alaska Irony

The ironic thing is that if Alaska succeeds in establishing itself as an offshoot of Hollywood, as Louisiana, New Mexico, and North Carolina have, it will mean movies that aren't based in Alaska will be shot here as well.

Those states have all doubled for other locales because their incentive programs were attractive to the bottom line. It didn't matter where the movie was supposed to take place.

A friend of mine recently had a feature film he wrote shot in New Orleans even though the story was originally set in Philadelphia. In this case New Orleans did not actually double as Philadelphia, instead the story was re-written to take place in New Orleans.

Shows you how powerful the tax incentive money carrot can be.

In the past Hollywood has used Canada and (the former) Yugoslavia in much the same way. If the language is dollar-saving, anyplace can be made to look like anywhere.

We may soon see Alaska doubling for Minnesota, New England, Washington...

Alaska's Film History (User Notes)

Listed are some of the projects that have been shot in Alaska (whether the entire project, or simply a scenic shot of a tree).

I say 'some' because when we shot Misty Isle Out in 1995 I did a little research to see if an independent film had already been shot in Alaska...

Turned out a few had been, but never saw the light of a projector, and some were never really documented in press or otherwise.

Much of the information gathered is from IMDb.

Next to each title I put type of project, where in Alaska it was filmed (when available), and the occasional bit of trivia. If an exact location isn't listed I use 'AK'.

Alaska became a state in 1959, so many of the titles listed pre-statehood may be of interest to Alaskana connoisseurs in terms of historical content.

Earliest noted film is from 1898, the documentary Pack Train at Chilkoot Pass, and the most current listed production is Universal Pictures Everybody Loves Whales starring Drew Barrymore and slated for release in 2012.

As one might guess (since we are talking about Alaska's film history) most of the titles are documentaries, but there are a number of lower-budget features listed I had not heard of being shot up here.

To help see what has been shot in Alaska, next to each title I put:

'feature' - feature films
'doc' - documentaries
'TV' - television (doc or episodic)
'short' - short subjects

Some of the titles really invite you to track down a video copy and make a big bowl of popcorn, such as, Attack of the Flesh Devouring Space Worms from Outer Space (1998), or, Jugular Wine: A Vampire Odyssey (1994).

By far my favorite year for titles is 1903...

These short-documentary titles are both intriguing, such as, Working A Long Tom Rocker on Bonanza Creek, and tell you exactly what you're getting, for instance, A Sleigh Load of Squaws.

I had personal interest in films shot in Ketchikan, Alaska, as that is where I first resided when we moved to this state in 1975. There are quite a few, probably the most well known of which is the 1954 feature Cry Vengeance, shot entirely in Ketchikan and showing off a historical view of the town.

Ketchikan also served as location for my independent film Misty Isle Out, as well as Baywatch: White Thunder at Glacier Bay... Never thought I'd see those two titles in the same sentence.

I also seem to remember an episode of Love Boat being shot in Ketchikan, but it is not listed here.

As mentioned before not every project shot in Alaska has been documented, so if you know of any others (especially independent features, of which I suspect there are a few more out there) please leave a note in the comment section.

Now, make a pot of coffee, sit back, and enjoy Alaska's film history...

Finally, the Titles (Boy, this has become a thesis paper)

2012

Everybody Loves Whales - feature; Anchorage, Barrow;

Wulf - feature; AK; Lucy Liu (rumored); also listed in New Orleans, is a tax-incentive battle brewing?

2011

Star Tours: The Adventures Continue - AK; promo for Disneyland/Star Wars attraction

On the Ice - feature; Barrow; based on short 'Sikumi' which won Sundance Jury prize in 2008

2010

A Traveler's Guide to the Planet - TV doc; Barrow

The Nine Muses - doc; AK

Christmas with a Capital C - feature; Seward; stars Daniel Baldwin of Baldwin brothers

Voyage to the Planets - TV doc; Barrow

Miracles - TV; AK

Moose Attack - TV (reality); Anchorage

Terra Infirma - feature; AK; director has lot of credits, my favorite title is 'Tyrannosaurus Azteca'

The Recruit - short; Anchorage; says was written, shot, edited in 8 days

Smokejumpers - doc; AK

Junk Dreams - doc; AK; this sounds cool: 2 brothers in their 70s sail Chinese Junk from WA to AK

Norte a Sur: Una Ruta, 5 experiencas - TV (reality); Anchorage

Mnemosyne - doc; AK

Jack London: Twentieth-Century Man - doc; AK

Echoes of Creation - TV movie; AK

Alaska's Amazing Calving Glaciers - doc (short); AK

Kids Quest - Anchorage; not sure what this is, follows kid agents on adventures submitted by other kids

Alaska's Scenic Byways: Bigger Than Your Imagination - doc; Anchorage, Denali, Fairbanks, Haines, Homer, Ketchikan, Kodiak, Valdez

Native Time - short; Anchorage

A Traveler's Guide to the Planets: Jupiter - TV doc; Barrow

Naked Science: Surviving Ancient Alaska - TV doc; Denali Park, Lake Clark, Fairbanks

2009

Godspeed - feature; Anchorage, Palmer, Wasilla

Paddle to Seattle: Journey Through the Inside Passage - doc; Haines, Juneau

Disaster on K2 - TV (doc); AK; Alaska's own 'Ascending Path' listed as one of production companies

Hindsight and foresight: 20 Years After the Exxon Valdez Spill - doc short; Prince William Sound

Ice Bears of the Beaufort - doc; Barter Island, Kaktovik

Dancing with Gaia - doc; AK

Beautiful Islands - doc; Shishmaref; explores islands shaken by climate change

Man Made: Alaska's Extreme Machines - doc; AK

I Love Alaska - doc; AK; this one looks interesting, worth looking up to read full details

How to Survive - feature; Kodiak; this appears to be an Alaskan indie feature

Jeff Corwin's Wild Life - TV (reality); Kaktovik

Dynasty - doc (sport); AK; Warren Miller Entertainment produced, so...

Icebound - doc; Anchorage, Fairbanks, Galena, Juneau, Nenana, Nome, Unalakleet; Recounts 1925 serum run to Nome

Are We Alone? - AK

The Woods Between - short; Anchorage

Finding Their Own Dance - doc; AK

Hitting the Outdoors - TV (reality); AK

Mercury - feature; AK; listed as still 'in development'

The Wonders of Alaska - doc; AK

Sizzling Pleasures - short; Anchorage

2008

That's It, That's All - doc (sport); Valdez; snowboarding

Deep Winter - feature; AK

Chronic Town - feature; Fairbanks

Jack and Jill - feature; AK

Killer Tumbleweeds - feature; AK; People of middle America are being attacked by tumbleweeds!

The Wendigo - short; AK

The Massive - short; Haines

The Man Who Lives with Bears - doc; AK; the Charlie Vandergaw story

The Last Days of Shishmaref - doc; AK

Red Gold - doc; Anchorage, Bristol Bay; documentary on Sockeye salmon fishery (yum!)

Sikumi (On the Ice) - short; Barrow; Jury Prize at Sundance, turned into the feature 'On the Ice'

The Calling - doc; AK

Alaska - AK; travel guide

Breath of Fresh Air - doc; AK

Heart of Alaska - doc; Anchorage, Denali Park, Fairbanks, Kenai Lake

Alaska Oilmen: Gamble on the Ice - doc; AK

Coffee Culture USA - doc; Anchorage

Mustard Seed - Anchorage; appears to be locally made feature, running time not listed

Susitna Story - short; Anchorage

Final Round - feature; Anchorage

MythBusters: Alaskan Special - TV doc; AK

Nova: Arctic Dinosaurs - TV doc; AK

The Amazing Race: The Final Push - TV; Anchorage, Girdwood, Twentymile

2007

Transformers - feature; Columbia Bay

Into the Wild - feature; Anchorage, Cantwell, Copper River, Denali Park, Fairbanks, Healy

Ice Road Truckers - TV (reality); Deadhorse, Fairbanks, Prudhoe Bay

Note by Note: The Making of Steinway L1037 - feature doc; Sitka; I would love to check this out

The Call of the Wild - doc; Fairbanks, Healy

Hers - feature; Hope

Alaska: The Tracy Arm Experience - short; AK

Arctic Diamond - doc; AK

The Vessel - feature; AK

Cope - feature; Kodiak; made by same guy who did 'How To Survive'

Polarized - short; Shishmaref

Arctic Circle: Mile 115 - short; AK

Sporting Fly: Kenai River, Alaska - doc; AK

Surviving Sounds of Haida - short; Kasaan, Ketchikan

All My Crazy Friends 3... Live Fast Die Fat - AK; Absolutely no idea what this is

Believe - doc short; Haines

Pushin' Forward - doc short; AK

The Girls Next Door: Half-Baked Alaska - TV (reality); Craig, Ketchikan; Hef and his bunnies

Dirty Jobs: Wild Goose Chase - TV (reality); Yukon Delta wildlife refuge

2006

The Guardian - feature; AK

The Last Winter - feature; AK; with Ron Perlman and indie-star James LeGros

Treasure Hunters - TV (reality); AK

Red White Black & Blue - doc; Anchorage, Attu, Kodiak; Anything shot on Attu I want to see

4 Elements - doc; AK

Location Scouting with Peter Lamont: Die Another Day - doc short; Spencer Glacier, Kenai Fjords

Baranov's Castle - TV movie; Homer, Nikiski, Cooper Landing; tagged 'Puppet movie event of the year!'

Top of the World - doc; Valdez

Theatrical Makeup Design Interactive - doc; Fairbanks

5 Takes: USA - TV (reality); Anchorage

Turned - short; Anchorage

Seeking 1906 - TV (history); Anchorage

Oceans 8: Birthplace of the Winds - TV doc; AK; Kayaking adventure

The Amazing Race: 5 Continents, 10 Countries, and More Than 59 Thousand Miles! - TV; Anchorage

Man vs. Wild: Alaskan Mountain Range - TV (reality); AK; Bear Grylls in Alaska

2005

Grizzly Man - feature doc; Katmai; Werner Herzog continues to entertain; See this one if you haven't

The Big White - feature; Skagway; Stars Robin Williams

Deadliest Catch: Crab Fishing in Alaska - TV (reality); AK

A Thousand Roads - feature; Barrow; from the director of 'Smoke Signals'

Henry Wood Elliott: Defender of the Fur Seal - short; Pribilof Islands

Ultimate Playground - TV; AK

A Cemetery Special - doc; Fairbanks; About historic cemeteries in the U.S.

When the Season is Good: Artists of Arctic Alaska - doc; Anchorage, Barrow, King Island, Nome, St. Lawrence

Inside Passage - TV (reality); Glacier Bay, Haines, Juneau, Ketchikan, Sitka

Adieu - short; AK

Waiting Game - doc (sport); Valdez

The Eskimo and the Whale - doc; AK

AK and Beyond - doc short; Valdez

X-Quest - doc; AK

In Our Own Image - doc; Anchorage

2004

50 First Dates - feature; Blackstone Bay

Long Way Round - TV doc; Anchorage, Fairbanks; Fun with Ewan, Charlie, and motorcycles!

Alone in the Wilderness - doc; Twin Lakes, Lake Clark National Park

13 Lakes - doc; Lake Iliamna

The Dating Scene - doc short; Blackstone Bay; Drew Barrymore, Dan Aykroyd, and Sean Astin

Oil on Ice - doc; AK; Peter Coyote narrates

2 Stroke Cold Smoke: Crash! Man Down! - doc (sport); AK

Ten Adventures of a Lifetime - doc; Glacier Bay National Park, Gustavus

A Voice Out of the Cold: Vivica Genaux - doc; Fairbanks; Opera

Naked Science: Alien Contact - TV doc; Fox

Naked Science: Angry Earth - TV doc; Anchorage

2003

Wildboyz - TV; Juneau, Nome; 'Jackass' spin-off

Cheerleader Massacre - feature; Anchorage; Title says it all

Chimera - short; Fairbanks, Poker Flat Research Range; Horror

The Standard Snowboard Show - doc; Valdez

The Harriman Alaska Expedition Retraced - TV doc; Eagle River, Little Diomede, Glacier Bay, Gustavus, Ketchikan, Pribilof Islands, Seward, Sitka, Whittier

Crown of the Continent - doc short; Wrangell St. Elias National Park

Klondike: The Quest for Gold - doc; AK

Crittercam - TV series doc; Chatham Straight; Also shot in Antarctica!

2 Stroke Cold Smoke VI - doc (sport); AK

Salmon Run - doc short; Naknek

Insomniac with Dave Attell: Anchorage - TV; Anchorage

2002

Insomnia - feature; Hyder, Valdez, aerial of AK; stars Al Pacino & Robin Williams

Storm - doc (sport); Cordova, Valdez

An Enraged New World - short feature; Fairbanks, Murphy Dome, Paxson; 50 minutes, adventure sci-fi

Ski Movie III: The Front Line - doc (sport); Cordova, Haines

Looking for Love: Bachelorettes in Alaska - TV (reality); Girdwood (Alyeska Resort); I remember when this came to town. The producers asked the fire department if they could fill the hot-tub they had constructed outdoors.

Crossing the Rubicon - feature; Anchorage

Gasaaaan xaadas guusuu - short; Ketchikan; Haida elders

2 Stroke Cold Smoke V - doc (sport); AK

Ice Challenger - doc; AK; crossing the frozen Bering Strait

The Amazing Race: Follow That Plane! - TV; Anchorage, Big Lake, Hurricane Gulch

2001

Lara Croft: Tomb Raider - feature; Glacier Bay National Park, Gustavus

Out Cold - feature; Denali National Park; I like the fact that Lee Majors is in this

Dr. Dolittle 2 - feature; Wrangell

Winged Migration - doc; Haines; Alaska portion shot at Chilkat Bald Eagle preserve

Kevin of the North - feature; Nome

Further Tales of the City - TV mini-series; Sitka

Bears - doc short; AK

Brother Born Again - doc; Hoonah

Unparalleled 2: Free World - Haines

Mountain Men - TV doc; Fairbanks, Denali

Mayday! Lost at Sea - TV doc; AK

Kusah Hakwaan - feature; AK; Horror film featuring Tlingit and English language

Send Word, Bear Mother - doc; AK

2 Stroke Cold Smoke IV - doc (sport); AK

Spiritual Outdoor Adventures - TV series; AK

Hunting for Oil - doc; AK

Eventyrerne - doc (travel); AK

Trex - doc; AK

The Amazing Race: Race to the Finish: Part 1 & 2 - TV; Anchorage, Denali, Matanuska Glacier, Talkeetna, Takosha Lodge

2000

The Tony Blair Witch Project - feature; Fairbanks

The Frozen Inferno - short; Fairbanks; same folks as 'Tony Blair Witch Project'

The Waterkeepers - doc; Cook Inlet

2 Stroke Cold Smoke III - doc (sport); AK

Horizon: Mega-Tsunami: Wave of Destruction - TV; Juneau, Lituya Bay

1999

Limbo - feature; Juneau; John Sayles shoots in Alaska

Wolves - doc short; AK; Robbie Robertson (of The Band) narrates

Fifty - doc; Chugach Range

Global Storming - doc; Valdez; snow sports

Forever After - Anchorage; can't tell if it's a short or feature

Escape from Chernobourg - feature; Fairbanks, Valdez

1998

The Life of Birds - TV series doc; AK

Robin Hood - short; Fairbanks

Avalanche - feature; Palmer, Sheep Mountain; poster shows an early title as 'Escape From Alaska'

Earth Story - TV series doc; AK

Baywatch: White Thunder at Glacier Bay - TV; Juneau, Ketchikan, Glacier Bay, Gustavus

Freeriders - doc (sport); Valdez

Attack of the Flesh Devouring Space Worms from Outer Space - short feature; Fairbanks; extraterrestrial worms reanimate dead bodies (in case you wondered)

Rencontres avec les balienes du Saint-Laurent - doc; AK

Three Great American Adventures - TV doc; Glacier Bay, Gustavus

Los patiperros - TV series doc; AK; shows Chilean people living around the world

Wild Life Adventures: Alaska's Bush Pilots - TV; Wrangell St. Elias Nation Park; produced by Alaska's own 'SprocketHeads'

1997

Misty Isle Out - feature; Ketchikan, Prince of Wales Island; shot entirely in Alaska with Alaskans

Alaska: Spirit of the Wild - doc short; Denali Park; narrated by Charlton Heston

Whales: An Unforgettable Journey - doc short; Petersburg; Patrick Stewart narrates

Snowriders II - doc (sport); Girdwood (Alyeska), Valdez

Skroner om en slaedehund - TV series doc; AK

1996

Adventures of the Quest: White Rock Blue Ice - TV doc; AK

Adventures of the Quest: The Cold Sea - TV doc; AK

Yukon Gold - doc; Ruby

In the Wild: Whales with Christopher Reeve - TV; St. Lawrence Island

1994

North - feature; AK

On Deadly Ground - feature; Nome, Valdez, Worthington Glacier; I remember my father telling me he was offered job as standby medic for this, but turned it down because 'They weren't offering much.'

The Endless Summer II - feature doc; AK

Globe Trekker - TV; Chicken, Eagle, Seward

Jugular Wine: A Vampire Odyssey - feature; AK

Gutta pa tur - TV; AK

1993

Arizona Dream - feature; White Mountain

Braving Alaska - TV ; AK

1992

Carving the White - doc (sport); Valdez

Ryska Alaska - TV doc; Sitka

1991

Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country - feature; Knik Glacier, Chugach State Park

White Fang - feature; Haines, Skagway

Salmonberries - feature; Kotzebue; k.d. lang's character is also named Kotzebue

Just Visiting This Planet - doc; AK

1990

The Hunt for Red October - feature; Port Valdez (opening sequence)

Blue Planet - doc short; AK; IMAX film

Northern Circle: The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band Plays Alaska - TV; AK

Sport Fishing with Dan Hernandez - TV series; AK

1989

Cops - TV (reality); Anchorage

Uksuum Cauya: The Drums of Winter - doc; Emmonoak

1988

Brian Boitano: Canvas of Ice - TV movie; AK

Black Tide - TV doc; AK

1987

National Geographic Specials: The Grizzlies - TV doc; AK

1985

Runaway Train - feature; Whittier; This movie features the old Girdwood Fire Dept. trucks!

Cloudwalker - doc; AK (Ruth Gorge; with Jim Bridwell and Jeff Lowe (for you climbing enthusiasts)

1984

The Night They Saved Christmas - TV movie; Barrow; fun cast includes Art Carney

1983

Never Cry Wolf - feature; Nome; classic mice-eating scene!

The Golden Seal - feature; Aleutian Islands

1982

The Thing - feature; Juneau; the original was shot in a Los Angeles cold storage and Glacier National Park, Montana, the 1982 version was mostly Canada with some in Alaska, and another remake is currently in production shooting in Canada

1980

Raise the Titanic - feature; Valdez

Cosmos - TV mini-series doc; AK

Day of Resurrection - feature; AK; also shot in Antarctica; aka 'Virus'

The Courage of Kavik, the Wolf Dog - TV movie; Hyder, Juneau, Tok

1979

Bear Island - feature; Glacier Bay National Park, Gustavus; stars Donald Sutherland

1978

The Sea Gypsies - feature; AK

1977

Claws - feature; Juneau; aka 'Grizzly II' but has no connection to the original 'Grizzly'

1976

Heart of Glass - feature; AK; yes, Herzog has been to Alaska before 'Grizzly Man'. I once met Wim Wenders, and when I told him I was making a film in Alaska he said "You know, Werner Herzog wanted to be dropped off in the middle of Alaska with just a camera a make a movie there'. I have no idea if he was referencing 'Heart of Glass', but sounds like Herzog

1975

Savage Man Savage Beast - doc; AK; actual footage of people being killed and eaten by animals, the reviews say it's extremely graphic

Challenge to Be Free - feature; AK; story of the famous 'Mad Trapper of Rat River' which happened in Canada, but is some great folklore!

Timber Tramps - feature; Wrangell, also rumored shot at logging camps near Ketchikan

1974

Kodiak - TV series; AK; about an 'Alaska State Patrolman'

International Crook - feature; AK; appears to be from Bollywood

Vanishing Wilderness - doc; AK

Year of the Caribou - doc; AK

At the Time of Whaling - short; Gambell

1971

America - TV series; Juneau (Tongass National Forest), Kotzebue

Eskimos: A Changing Culture - doc short; Nunivak Island

1970

Snow Bear - feature; Point Barrow

1969

This Is My Alaska - doc; AK

Animal World: Seals of Pribilof - TV; Pribilof Islands

1963

Trail of the Hunter - doc; AK

1960

Ice Palace - feature; Petersburg; stars Richard Burton

1958

White Wilderness - doc; Denali National Park

1957

Polar Outpost - doc short; Point Barrow; about 'distant early warning system'

1956

Alaska Lifeboat - doc short; Haines; about medical services ship that stops in Haines

Lento yli Pohjoisnavan - doc short; Anchorage

1954

Cry Vengeance - feature; Ketchikan; not only shot in Ketchikan, but set there as well. Dave Kiffer's favorite

1953

The Sea Around Us - doc; Pribilof Islands

1950

The Flying Saucer - feature; Juneau

1948

Harpoon - feature; Kodiak, Skagway

Seal Island - doc short; Pribilof Islands; Walt Disney Productions

Alaska: A Modern Frontier - doc short; AK

Alaska: Global Crossroads - doc short; AK

1947

Alaska - doc short;

1945

Alaskan Grandeur - doc short; AK

1943

Report from the Aleutians - doc; Adak; John Huston narrates about U.S. forces in Aleutians. I have a personal fondness for the area, both my father and I have worked there, very beautiful!

1941

The Inside Passage - doc short; Annette Island, Attu, Cordova, Ketchikan, Skagway; this one looks interesting, explores possible future of Alaska pre-statehood

Scenic Grandeur - doc short; Columbia Glacier

Alluring Alaska - doc short; AK; shot by James A. FitzPatrick who made over a hundred travel docs

1940

Mechanix Illustrated No. 3 - short; AK; about Alaska salmon industry

Orphans of the North - short feature; Taku River; was originally called 'Taku', footage was added and it was re-released as 'Orphans of the North'; shot in Alaska with locals as actors

1939

Land of Alaska Nellie - doc short; Kenai Lake, Lawing, Seward; I had to look up Lawing

1938

Spawn of the North - feature; Ketchikan; credits say the 'salmon run' was shot in Ketchikan

1937

Taku - short feature; Taku River; more footage was added and re-released as "Orphans of the North; shot in Alaska with locals as actors

Giants of the North - doc short; AK

1936

Alaska's Silver Millions - doc short; AK

1933

Eskimo - feature; Teller (exteriors)

1932

Alaska Love - short; AK; comedy

Dangers of the Arctic - doc; AK

1931

Explorers of the World - doc; AK

1930

The Silver Horde - feature; Ketchikan

1928

The Trail of '98 - feature; AK, Chilkoot Pass; budget estimated at two-million which seems a lot for a movie in 1928

1926

Rocking Moon - short feature; Sitka; listed as a '7 reel' film, reminds me of being a projectionist!

Med 'Maud' over Polhavet - doc; Nome, North Pole; Roald Amundsen

Luftskibet 'Norge's flugt over polhavet - doc; Nome, North Pole; Roald Amundsen

1925

Santa Claus - short; location listed as 'Northern Alaska'

1924

The Chechahcos - feature; Chilkoot Pass, Cordova; 8 reels

1923

Med Roald Amundsens Nordpolsekspedition til forste vinterkvarter - doc; Point Barrow, Nome

1921

The Birth of an Iceberg - doc; AK

1920

Way Up Yonder - doc short; AK

1919

Chilkat Cubs - doc short; AK

Lure of Alaska - doc short; Yukon River; boat trip down Yukon and Whitehorse rapids

1917

Alaska - doc short; AK

Alaska Wonders in Motion - doc short; Child's Glacier, Copper River, Kodiak, Miles Glacier, Roosevelt, Valdez

1915

The Lure of Alaska - doc; AK

1912

Atop of the World in Motion - doc; Nome, Bering Strait

The Alaska-Siberian Expedition - doc; AK; 6 reels

1903

First Snow Storm of the Season, Valdez - doc short; Valdez (McKinlet Street)

1000 Mile Ride Over the Ice on a Bicycle - doc short; Dawson (pre-statehood that area may have been considered Alaska, today Dawson is officially in Canada); footage of Dr. Richardson on his famous bike ride; interestingly, it was reported that a Mr. Ed Jessen rode a bike along the frozen Yukon from Dawson to Nome in 1900 - just goes to show, 'it's all been done before!'

$25,000 Clean Up on No. 16 Eldorado - doc short; Bonanza Creek

Sluice Mining on Gold Hill in the Klondike, Hutchison and Johnstone's Claim of No. 6 Eldorado - doc short; Bonanza Creek

Working A Long Tom Rocker on Bonanza Creek - doc short; Bonanza Creek

Working the Rocker, Called a Jigger, on Poverty Bar, Fourteen Below Discovery Bonanza Creek - doc short; Bonanza Creek

The Ice Breaker - doc short; Kootenai River; I think this river is in British Columbia, but since this is all pre-statehood a lt of the area may have been consisdered 'Alaska'

Pack Train Leaving Valdez for Copper Mines - doc short; Valdez

Dog Baiting and Fighting in Valdez - doc short; Valdez

Winter Sport on Snake River, Nome - doc short; Nome

Race Between Dog Team, Bicycle and Cutter - doc short; Dawson City (again, pre-statehood, now Canada)

Horses Swimming Copper River - doc short; Copper River

Leaving Skagway for the Golden North - doc short; Skagway

Panorama of Miles Canyon - doc short; Miles Canyon on Upper Yukon; shows a scow full of men hurlign past waving their hats

Panorama of Kennicott Glacier Port Hole - doc short; Kennicott Glacier; all of this 1903 footage must be amazing!

United States Mail Leaving Dawson City for White Horse - doc short; Dawson City

Steamer 'Yukoner' Leaving Dawson - doc short; Dawson City

Steamer Susie Excursion to Moosehide - doc short; Dawson City

Through White Horse Rapids - doc short;White Horse rapids on Yukon River

Finding the Royal Salute at Dawson City by the Northwest Mounted Police - doc short; Dawson City

Dawson City Fire Department Going to a Fire - doc short; Dawson City; reported to be 45 below zero

A Sleigh Load of Squaws - doc short; Dawson; returning to Moose Hide village on the Yukon

Mule Pack Train Taking Gold Dust to Dawson City - doc short; Grand Forks (?)

Blasting the Treadwell Mines - doc short; Douglas Island

1901

Burro Pack Train on the Chilcoot Pass - doc short; Chilkoot Pass

1898

Pack Train at Chilkoot Pass - doc short; Chilkoot Pass; stationary camera, review says great composition showing length of pack train

And there you have it.

Headlines

2010-09-20T21:37:00.011-08:00

Shooting Alaska in Alaska

Bush Injured, Video Shows Difficulty Walking

Not that Bush.

Reggie Bush of the New Orleans Saints suffered a leg injury in tonight's football game against the San Francisco 49ers.

Awesome game though. 49ers looked good on offense and defense.

I was rooting for the Detroit Lions and Cleveland Browns this season because I'm an underdog kind of guy, but not after tonight.

Let us see what the 49ers can do.

(Yes I still root for the defending Superbowl Champions.)

Drew Barrymore Seen Shooting In Alaska?

Not firearms.

Her latest film, Everybody Loves Whales, began shooting in Anchorage earlier this month. Local Alaskan's managed to get some cast and crew work on the film which is based upon the 1988 story of three Gray whales trapped beneath the ice of the Arctic Circle.

The film is shooting in Alaska because the story takes place in Alaska, right?

Not really. It's all about tax-incentives, which Alaska hopes to use to entice Hollywood into dropping a few hundred million (if not billion) into our economy over the next decade or so.

Remember what I said about driving Star Wagons up the Alcan?

They did it.

Last week I drove through downtown Anchorage and it looked like productions you see on the streets of Los Angeles and New York. Not some jury-rigged 'let's rent as many local Winnebagos as we can and convince the stars to share the bus depot restrooms' job.

Production found some space to build their sets... They had their let's-get-production-rolling Sushi dinner... and Alaska's kicking back some serious coin, so...

Vancouver, watch out!

Maybe.

Barnyard Devil Sighting

Not a Chupacabra.

When did I last post? A month ago at least.

Well you are witnessing a rare post on the Barnyard Devil blog (and as you can maybe tell, I'm trying to grease the wheels enough to get them spinning again).

Might be time to let this blog go. It's been four years and my stat-counter 'hits' just aren't enough to compete with the Huffington Post.

Although I gave them a good run for their money.

Our (my) strategy of writing about personal thoughts and family events coupled with photos of my family, Rhonda and the Hollywood sign, fruit pants, dog in snow, and a trip to New Orleans was something the Huffington Post never quite had an answer for.

They decided to go a completely different direction and it worked.

Booger Is Back! (Waiter In Manhattan Won't End It All)

Booger is a typo.

Shows you what can happen when you rely on spell-check (black pepper anyone?).

Still, did the headline get you wondering? See last post.

Bonus Video

Curious about fruit pants in action?

A Waiter Grows in Manhattan

2010-08-09T16:13:00.010-08:00

Some led astray, others away

Now Hiring Busboys, Dishwashers, Waiters

When he pounded his fist on the hood of the taxi in the crosswalk, and the bike messenger took his heavy chain and swung it at the other bat-wielding cab driver, and the third taxi-cab hit the young man running across the street as he was chased by a gang of youths trying to beat him up, hit him square across his thighs spiraling him fifteen feet into the air, and the screams of the young woman being crushed under the rear wheels of the truck backing into a parking space, screams that at first sounded like rape, and then became something terribly worse, and the man who tried to threaten the young dishwasher, he had his hand in his pocket indicating he had a weapon, but the dishwasher told him to fuck off, and the scraped-off-the-streets homeless creature dripping with filth threatening to cut off another dishwasher's foot as the rush hour crowd minded their own business, and the nodding young men on heroin in the subway cars and on the park benches, and the young busboy who decided to try it himself and caught himself dry-heaving against a lamp-post in his own neighborhood during morning rush hour as neighbors passed by on their way to work shooting him pathetic glances, and the tough guys, the tough guy who told the busboy how he was going to break his legs before throwing him out the window for fucking his girlfriend who the busboy had never laid a hand on but cocaine makes people crazy, and the hole the tough guy left in the wall as a warning, and the furniture sailing through the air from thirty-six stories up crashing in sparks, feathers, and wood onto the parking lot, bringing the cops to escort the two young friends to safety from the bedroom they were holed up in against drug-fueled ex-cons threatening death, and the kids coming downtown to bump into other kids and then demand an apology and when the obvious 'but you bumped me' came then it was on, and the twelve year olds threatening to cut those who didn't mind their own business when they had a tired off-duty waiter cornered in the subway car and decided to start some shit, or the other kids who once tried fucking with another off-duty waiter until he impressed them with his knowledge of Compton and NWA, which had been his tactic to outsmart them as they had little knowledge outside the boundaries of their neighborhood and didn't realize that not everyone who comes from California knows NWA or even lives near Compton, and they left him alone wondering how many he could have taken down as they jabbed whatever sharp pieces of metal they carried with them into his elbows, legs, maybe even his torso, and another waiter walking home late, barely breaking stride as he watched the wailing young man with blood streaming down his face crying that they cut his ear off with a box-cutter, but the waiter saw the ear, at least part of it, still dangling and besides others were coming to his aid, he came to other's aid when he really had to, like the blue woman in a thin party dress passed out on a stoop on a freezing January evening, a hospital band still on her wrist and dried vomit down her chest, he called 911 and told them she was so cold she was actually blue, and the construction worker having a foaming seizure near his pick-up truck, the waiter told a nearby cop who sauntered over and said, 'cocaine', the waiter's neighbor, also a waiter, watched a baby born at two in the morning on the subway platform as he waited for his train after a double-shift, a cop helped the woman deliver the baby, the shift before the waiter had also been threatened by young hooligans who told him to sit back, shut up, read his book, and mind his own business after the waiter had told a young boy off for being a pest, the rest of the ride he kept his nose in his book, not reading, but watching the hands of the nearest young toughs who were shoved up against him and spouting non-stop threats about how they were gonna cut him if he said one more word, this waiter also calculated how he would take as many down as he could before he couldn't take being poked with sharp objects any longer and would have to run bleeding into the streets hoping for a cop cause the other passengers made it clear they were not going to help, the train stopped and the waiter bolted, the kids chose not to follow and now those passengers who had chosen not to help were stuck wondering who was next as the subway doors closed, although most of it was bark and not bite, men challenged each other to fights on the train and then would step off the train and onto the platform together and continue yelling, maybe taking wild swings without getting too close, if someone really wanted you they'd just go at you, no words, like the man who got tired of watching petty thieves picking pockets on standing room only trains during the rush hour, he finally grabbed a man's arm and told him to put the other man's wallet back and at the first hesitation from the thief they both went to the floor in a violent tussle, another time this man was riding in the early after-clubbing hours on a train with a young couple, too thuggish gents stepped aboard and began harassing the couple, the man intervened, told them to knock it the fuck off and soon they were on the floor together punching kicking watching for weapons, the young couple fled as did the thuggish gents realizing they had gotten in over their heads, and watching thugs after a crime running down streets, down subway platforms, the young men handing off their box-cutters, knives, and other weapons to the young women who would put them in their purses and causally stroll along behind as the cops chased after the boys, the girls surely thought they were securing love and life-long devotion from those boys, the men climbing up from street basement stairwells all hours of the day, followed shortly after by the young women who had just blown them, the occasional sheepish grin, the 'what the fuck are you looking at' from the men, the 'hey kid, like what you see' from the girl, the sidewalks covered in broken glass crack vials which would stick into the rubber flip-flops the waiter would wear on Sundays as he carried his laundry to the launder-mat, the skin-heads on the corner yelling out taunts until someone bit and then it was fifty against one, the same corner where Three-Card Monty, and the fake valuable coin trick were played out regularly, one waiter (during his learning curve days) once called the Monty guys on their bullshit and quickly discovered that there weren't just the guys playing the game, there was a couple guys on the corner providing protection and the waiter was emphatically told to get the fuck out of the area, as he cut down a side street he watched a purse-snatching and decided 'fuck it' he'd had enough, so he yelled after the guy who started to face him down until the thief realized the waiter was serious, the thief then ran down onto a subway platform, the waiter followed but lost the man, good thing, a thief cornered might bite, walking home he marveled at how some of the transgender streetwalkers could look like pretty hot women (not all, some seemed more like butchers or teamsters), at work he discussed this with another waiter and they were overheard by the line-chef who pointed out she (he) was once a man, that made for an interesting shift as each time the waiters picked up their orders they would study the line-chefs face and figure, finally both agreeing if they hadn't known and the opportunity had come up they both would have done her, my God what happened to the other line-chef, the lunch guy, he hasn't shown up all week, the manager knows he sometimes gets into some coke and goes on a bender, but he's worried cuz the chef's 'ticker' ain't so good and maybe this time it did him in, some of the waiters worried about the chef, others worried about if they would have to find a new connection, the chef made it to work the next day, apparently had to leave town for a few days to take care of something back home down South, he hated traveling back home, the last time he'd come back north with a new bullet hole and he was tired of that shit, he liked making burgers for the college kids, sipping gin and doing a line or two on his day off, watching the leaves change colors in the park, engage in conversations with the young waiters who would actually listen to what he had to say, he even taught one of them how to bend a fork into a formidable knuckle weapon he could keep hidden in his coat pocket when he had to walk home after late shifts, after a while it didn't matter time of day, it was either a good day to be outside or a bad day, on bad days those who didn't have to be anywhere could feel it in the air and would lay low, on good days - which the young enthusiastic waiters agreed came more often than the bad days - not having to work was a marvel, walks in central park, fifty cents to visit the Met (even though the suggested donation was much more), a waiter could drop the fifty cents and spend an afternoon with just his favorite painting because all it took was another fifty cents on another afternoon to see the other stuff, Chinatown and Little Italy for some food, rollerblading through alphabet city and down into the east side, Lunachicks or Joan Osborne at the Crocodile, Excene at CBGBs, Mick Taylor at Lone Star, Lounge Lizards at Village Gate (after being snuck in the side door by a waiter friend... the waiter network is something to behold), Spring days meant women brought out their skirts and sitting on a park bench and watching them pass by made for an afternoon, half-price tickets for the Broadway shows, during summer packing a picnic to wait in line for a free ticket to Shakespeare in the Park, or the boys and girls bringing bottles of wine and making out to the free Opera in the Park, after which they'd retire to their various lofts for more wine and sex, trains to the Cloisters, Brooklyn, Queens, New Paltz, Rehoboth Beach for a weekend when a waiter could afford the fare, and walking the length of the park to its north end, continuing up towards the greatest cathedral in the world (in one waiter's opinion), Saint John the Divine, with it's great stained glass, pipe organ, intricately carved wood, stone walls, breathtaking, peaceful, beautiful, as is Central Park, a place of beauty standing strong in the middle of a city sometimes overwhelmed in twisted, ugly, dark, goings on, like the first time the waiter visited Saint John the Divine, walking home he noticed a boot in the middle of the street, as he got closer he noticed blood on it, a few steps closer and he saw part of a foot still inside, huh, wonder what happened there.

Rain's Right To Fall

2010-07-26T21:42:00.009-08:00

Difficult to love what you don't understand...

Aspirin Eight-Ball

Eighth rainiest July since the National Weather Service began keeping track?

The first rainiest was probably during the time of Noah, but there were actually six rainier Julys than this July?

And how come everyone at the coffee shop wants to keep reminding me that, "We had a heck of a May, though, Matt. Three weeks of sun. Don't know what you're complaining about."

Easy.

First, we did not have three weeks of sun during May - no matter what internet weather history searches say - we had maybe four or five days, scattered amongst a few more days of partially sunny days that were also sprinkled with rain.

Second, why would you want to fall back on some May sunshine when what we are talking about is the almost complete lack of summer?

Winter is long enough without throwing it a couple extra months.

Now that Arizona is kicking out Mexicans some of those highly coveted jobs are opening up. The growing number of Anglo teen meth addicts will now have a shot at earning their drug money rather than sneaking it from Aunt Lily's purse.

I said this to a friend, expecting a chuckle, and instead was met with, "It's the Mexicans making and bringing in the meth!"

So with Arizona bringing-the-wood, meth addicts are now going to have to cross over into Mexico for their fix? No one makes it in the U.S. anymore? And who told you this? The newspaper?

In the mid/late 1980s when I was living in Los Angeles meth quickly began replacing cocaine because of its affordability and longer-lasting buzz.

Through various 'acquaintances' I began to see it working it's way up from San Diego and the desert areas South of LA. It became popular with penny-pinching college students who wanted cocaine, but could not afford cocaine (or were tired of running out and returning with an eight-ball to a salivating house party only to find they were going to need a lot more booze if they wanted to get high off the laundry soap, aspirin and flour they'd just purchased).

It's not the issue of legal or illegal immigration that is really being discussed. It is Mexicans. Legal, or illegal.

Not Russians, Africans, Canadians, New Zealanders, Germans, French, English... I've known (as have many of you) at least one person from each of those countries 'illegally' living in the United States at one time or another.

It's similar to when someone proclaims, "I really fukken don't agree with what you say or who you are but I will fight and defend to the death you're right to say and be it!"

It sounds good, and that person might momentarily think they really would fight to the death for something they didn't believe in, but they won't.

When we say things like that we should remember that at other moments we are usually cheering on the failure, death, and destruction of that and those we do not believe in.

Those who already have put their life on the line for the benefit of humankind (not just in war, and not just for the people they like) usually don't rub it in other's faces.

When/if they do rub it other's faces, they're behaving like ass-hats who miss the point of what they did in the first place.

But they'll one day feel bad about rubbing other's faces.

Or refuse to feel bad and run off and hide in the metaphoric woods until the rest of the world has gone away, because Fuck them all anyway!

Saying 'Fuck them all anyway" makes for a difficult remainder of days.

You might have a solid reason for saying it - but it reduces the number of people you find you can hang out with. And we are social creatures. Those who prefer not to be social are saying they don't enjoy the human race, of which they are one.

You might have a good reason for silently holding onto it - but it reduces your ability to be open to the experiences of others, and the tools they have discovered that help us actually find some joy in living amongst each other rather than alone.

'Fuck them all anyway' makes for a difficult remainder of days.

If you think I'm preaching, it's only to myself.

I have rain gear, but on this 26th day of the eighth rainiest July in the history of the world, after reading and deleting two more emailed writing-submission rejections, and then slogging through a few crappy pages of an acclaimed author whose Pulitzer Prize Finalist book I received for Christmas, on this day I will not put on the rain gear and go out into the rain and stack the rounds of the eighty-foot Cottonwood recently felled in my backyard so that I can make the house more presentable for a sale that will bring me the money that my writing no-sales are not bringing, because after all I need to eat and I don't even bother looking for a real job because the Mexicans have taken them all!

I'm not going out into the rain. I'm going to sit here and write about it.

Glacier City Blues

2010-07-18T18:32:00.028-08:00

Tipping Point of a Tent-Master

Road To Inuvik

We camped along the way, including an awesome night at the Arctic Circle overlooking a fantastic valley.

The terrain changed often during the drive and was awe-inspiring. Tombstone Park is an area worth hiking in the future.

As you might expect where there was no wind the bugs were pretty bad. One spot I didn't even bother putting up the tent. We slept in the car and when we would jump out to go to the bathroom it was: Hold your breath, close your eyes, and wave your hand over your dong to keep the bugs off.

Eight days in the car, but arguments were few as we agreed to enjoy what we were experiencing. Chicken, Eagle, Dawson City, Inuvik, back through Dawson and down into the ghost-town of Forty Mile.

Cash in hand inspired me to buy some cool toys, but if you don't employ them they are money wasted, especially when unemployed. The Packraft is an example. Helmet Camera, another.

We did gets lots of footage with the helmet cam. Lots of different angles of dirt and gravel roads coming at you. I think you need a character or two, some dialogue, and something other than DRIVER POV OF ROAD to make a good story though.

All three are now for sale. Packraft, Helmet Camera, Ural. Think of the possibilities if you owned these three items!

Roads trips allow me to drink coffee again. The rule is: when I walk through the doorway back home, no more coffee. I've been sleeping in a tent in the backyard since our return, refusing to cross the threshold.

Rhonda says she has detected fiction interwoven in my non-fiction writing. That statement isn't necessarily true.

Hot and sunny in Dawson City. Pleasant strolls along the wooden sidewalks down to the Yukon River. Beer, food, and live music in the bar at night (though you couldn't tell it was night cuz it was always light outside). A great town to visit. Years ago when I first passed through I left some of my father's ashes in the yard of Robert Service's cabin.

I always hate the drive between Glenallen and Palmer. Very scenic, but...

We saw a Lynx. The first ever for both of us. Also moose with calves, porcupine, black bear, beavers, eagles, hawks, short-ear owls, marmots, falcons, ravens, picas, seagulls, mosquitos.

The drive between Palmer and Anchorage sucks as well.

Girdwood, once a peaceful refuge that lay close enough to Anchorage for a city-fix, and just down the road from once un-crowded fishing getaways like Bird Creek and Twenty Mile, climbing spots like Byron and Middle Glaciers, a peaceful winter drive to Homer or Seward, popular but not too popular dipnetting on the Kenai and Kasilof, has reached a tipping point.

From Wikipedia: Tipping Points are "the levels at which the momentum for change becomes unstoppable."

The drive along the Seward Highway between Girdwood and Anchorage was unbelievable today. An endless line of cars in both directions. Cars were lined up at every road intersecting the Seward waiting to hop on board. Every summer it's gradually become more and more crowded, and today's drive wasn't something I hadn't seen on the Seward before, but there was something different about it. Some intangible that had me thinking everything was about to blow up.

Another gas station is coming soon to Girdwood. As are two traffic lights.

People often joke about 'Los Anchorage'. Today, I actually saw it. Alaska is no longer 'the great mystery adventure to the North'. The veil is lifting and the timidly politically correct have moved past having a foot in the door - they are beginning to tear down the house and rebuild it in their image.

Rhonda was fire builder on this trip. I was tarp and tent master. Sadie took care of snoozing, snacking, and snarfling.

I loved that it rained against the tent at night, and the sun came out each morning. We could build a fire and heat water for oatmeal while drying out the tent and tarps.

The tundra always make me feel at peace. I look forward to it whenever I know I am headed its way. And begin to grow slightly depressed when I leave it. It's the same with the desert. The Antarctic ice. A quiet dead-end dirt road along Girdwood's airstrip I used to walk the dog along on summer days, now visited by traffic every two minutes.

Lots of shingles up around town. Just like Dawson City during the Gold-rush. No brothels (at least that I know of).

Cranberry-apple pie and chicken soup in Chicken... Hot sunny day along the Yukon eating sandwiches in Eagle... Climbing Marmot Peak along the Top of the World Highway... Food, music, beer and wooden sidewalk strolls in Dawson City... Skinny-dipping a crystal clear stream along the Dempster... Crossing the Mackenzie, Peel, and Yukon rivers via ferry... Playing with the dog in the tundra... Visiting the cemetery of a ghost town at Forty Mile. A crossing point of the Yukon River for the Forty-mile Caribou herd that became a gold-strike town of over 1000 residents and boasted restaurants, a doctor, roadhouse, general store, and mounted police until everybody abandoned it only a few years later.

When I first moved to Girdwood someone told me of their 'Pizza and a Prostitute' business idea. A guy calls up for a pizza delivery and a motorhome pulls up in front of his home. The customer would go inside, spend some private time with a courtesan, and then eat his pizza. In such a small town, though, the tongues would start wagging about whose house the motorhome was parked in front of last Tuesday night.

Girdwood was originally named Glacier City (some local businesses have the name Glacier City on their shingle) and became a supply camp for gold mining in the area.

There are no tundra jobs that I know of. I often ponder it, but in reality would find it difficult to follow the Forty-mile caribou herd in the winter, and put on enough stink to hopefully ward off clouds of mosquitoes during summer. Instead I try to strike gold of some kind to pay for my meat and three-dollar ice-cream cones... And set aside time for camping trips outside the lopsided craziness of our self-indulgent society.

People are no longer just visiting Alaska. The infrastructure of comfort is growing and people are staying. Alaska's real luster is fading, but the myth is all that is needed to sell a gold rush.

And we do it to ourselves. We set the rules. There is no "That's just the way the world is" because, as someone famously once sang, "We are the world".

Girdwood also goes by the name Girdweed. Because of all the Fireweed...

Another awesome sight along the Dempster were the fields of Fireweed growing where wildland fires had burned off the trees.

...Actually it's because of all the pot-smoking that goes on.

A mother black bear and two cubs just passed by as I walked the dog down the airport road. My first thought when that happened used to be "Cool". Now it's, "Crap, I've already heard talk of people wanting to shoot them".

Why is a bear that wants to eat, a nuisance bear? Maybe if it didn't want to eat it would be cool?

Unless it is actively threatening you, or your family, shoe it away, clean up your trash, pop a beer and go enjoy a piss outside in the summer light while waving your hand over your dong to keep the mosquitoes away.

Next week we're driving to Attu.

Pirate Biker Gypsy

2010-06-29T15:46:00.037-08:00

The Wild Heart of Life

Trip 1

Almost made it through the month without a post, but two motorcycle adventures reared their head. At least a chance to post some pics...

Don't know if it's cause I moved so much as a kid, but I never fit in with the in-crowd growing up. I wanted to. What kid doesn't? I think my brother did, so maybe it had nothing to do with moving. Maybe it was me ~

Why did I buy the sidecar? To take the dog on some dream cross-country trip. Me and the Sadester. Just a boy and his dog on a motorcycle. Real love.

Three day trip along the Denali Highway in Alaska made me re-think this a bit...

Fuck them - I dressed how I wanted, purple shirts, ugly green balloon pants - Fuck them - I was the first boy to get his ear pierced at El Dorado High - Fuck them - Except in all reality they acted pretty cool towards me. Carried me on their shoulders after a performance in a high-school production of 'Grease' ~

It wasn't the constant rain the first two days. Or the semi-depressed look on Sadie's face after an eight hour wet ride in a shaking, rattling sidecar. It was my fucking knees and back...

Somehow it was me.

They gave me a chance. I won them over. But something in me back then took the 'fuck them' road and I gravitated towards the fringes of society. Whether it be excessive partying, petty mischief, an attempt at a career in the arts, rock-climbing ~

The Ural is a shorter person's bike and my knees and back had me screaming internally after a few hours. Rhonda watched in horror (she was following in her car) as I would engage the throttle-lock and practice yoga stretches at 65 miles an hour in an attempt to stop the pain in my knees and lower back.

The Denali Highway itself was beautiful...

Rock-climbing was one of those fringe activities at the time. No obscene cliques, fucked-up pecking orders, or assholes. Everyone was given a chance to shine, or not. At least given the latitude to do their own thing in their own way.

Except that was all bullshit too.

The cliques in the climbing world could write a well-versed chapter in the book on how to behave like cliquish assholes. The purity of what climbing had meant to me - a chance to confront fears, test limitations, quiet my noisy mind, even touch my own inner version of 'God' - was chipped away at by a hipper version of people who haunted me during my youth ~

As you might infer from the photos the Denali quieted my noisy mind. At night the dog happily curled into a ball in our tent. When I started the motorcycle the next morning, and called her to her spot in the sidecar, she was content to let me go ahead on my own...

"Really, 'Cool-dude', I am fine right here. Send a heated cab with a quilted back-seat and plenty of treats and I'll see you in time for dinner."

Home safe I began to plan my next trip...

Trip 2

Motorcyclists, gypsies, and pirates had captured my heart and mind as a child. Long hair held back with a kerchief, a beard, a single gold hoop in one ear, leather boots, sleeveless shirt, raw strength and cunning, attitude with a smile, and always helping those in need without getting drawn in by their shit. Skateboarding, surfing, climbing, train robber, motorcycling all promised some version of this freedom and raucous camaraderie ~

My Honda Transalp fits me better than the Ural. I can ride longer before the pain hits. No dog, but this next trip was towards a motorcycle gathering in Canada called 'Dust to Dawson'. Easier not to bring the dog and get a chance to mingle with my new-found 'Adventure Riding' brethren. A chance to practice on the dirt and gravel roads of the 'Top Of The World Highway'. A chance to shake loose some of the wanderlust that still has me in its grip at this age...

Motorcyclists are a cliquish bunch. Actually, they fall into cliquish 'bunches' depending on what bike they ride and own, and within those bunches are mini-bunches. The purists, the retirees, the veterans, the stunts, the gangs, the speed/thrill seekers, the clubs, the OGs. The unifying desire to say, 'fuck you, I'm free' to something in their lives lies at the core of many. The need for speed at the core of others. The fuel mileage maybe ~

Five hundred and forty miles one way from Girdwood to Dawson City. I made it up there in two long days.

Day one ended in Tok and was mostly paved highway that took me past glaciers, forests, rivers, lakes.

Day two included a lot of dirt and gravel travel and took me through high alpine with stunning views into valleys below, alongside creeks, streams, and rivers across the Alaska/Canadian border above treeline and finally back down to the mighty Yukon River where I crossed via ferry to Dawson City and into a shower and a beer, ready, willing, and able to meet these new brothers of mine...

I remember when a friend of mine was hired by our neighboring city fire department I lost him for a time. We talked of going fishing together one day. He mentioned how his 'new' brothers had a boat and might come along. Then it became a trip only for members of his new family. I watched this happen with other friends as well. Whenever someone found success in some endeavor or new career old ties began to unravel. I had some idea rooted inside me that asked why people from different walks of life, groups, careers, couldn't find common ground through their values, beliefs, sense of humor, or interests, instead of pledging allegiance to the house, even though some members of that house might be among the worst of the worst. A job, after all, is just a job. A career is just a longer time in one job ~

As soon as I hit the street, showered and with a beer, I began to feel I might not fit in. It wasn't Dawson City. I loved this town. In fact I had tried to move there for a year when I first passed through because I found it so beautiful and intriguing. It wasn't my bike. There were all types of bikes, all drawn together through a common love of 'adventure riding'. It wasn't the individuals. These (mostly men) were from varied backgrounds and jobs and seemed to have quite a bit of rugged life experience between them. It was the clique.

There were to be rules to hanging out with this bunch of rule-breakers...

Maybe it was me.

Shunning those I thought shunned me back in my school-days. It carried over into my rebellious youth in Los Angeles and New York. Then, outcast by the outcasts, I left for New Mexico and joined the fraternity of desert climbers until I began to feel the hierarchy of an organized society creeping into our interactions. I ran back to Alaska, made a movie, then down to Seattle to join the new film scene trying to claw its way into something cutting-edge until I began to smell the familiar odor of Izod shirts from back in high-school weeping out through the secondhand store clothing, nose-rings, and colored hair. Back to Alaska where I accidentally became a firefighter, and then a fire captain who began to enforce hierarchies and teach the values of the rules of an organized society.

It was in me all along ~

I laughed at the ridiculousness of the group before me who was having so much fun, engaged in brotherly camaraderie. It was obvious I was being a grouch. There was more beneath the surface of this adventure bike gathering. They all wanted what I wanted.

To be free and yet to belong.

To be a pirate-biker-gypsy without ending up like the end of this poem by Robert W Service...

There's a race of men that don't fit in,
A race that can't stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don't know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they're always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
They say: "Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!"
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life's been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
He was never meant to win;
He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;
He's a man who won't fit in.

Maybe more like the young man described in James Joyce's 'Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man'...

'He was alone. He was unheeded, happy and near to the wild heart of life.'

Thinking only a dog would understand... Falling for the romanticism of traveling through days via sidecar & motorcycle... Travel and work guided by the stillness and clarity found in the desert or on the Antarctic ice... Trying to tap into the human heart and mind through writing...

You still want to share it all with someone.

To be free, and yet to belong ~

View To A Bee

2010-05-24T14:22:00.019-08:00

One Hundred Stings

The problem with a view is you can see things.

Every time I sat down to write this week I would look out my window and watch bees coming and going from a nest near the peak of the garage roof.

Wonderful creatures, bees. But I also see a nest I have to remove.

Speaking of writing, yesterday the Anchorage Daily News published my Ural article.

And speaking of other things, I sold my avalanche beacon this morning.

I seldom ski anymore. Even on the most awe-inspiring snow-days I stare at the snow through my window and wish for Summer.

With summer comes bees.

As a child I was once trapped standing on a stone spiral staircase in an old fortress in Panama.

Trapped by hundreds of bees.

Fortresses are very cool to young boys. A friend and I had just started exploring this one when I stepped on a nest built against a step.

We were both swarmed.

My friend, however, was still at the bottom of the steps and was able to get away quickly.

I stood in place for a moment, terrified. Getting stung in my mouth, eyes, head, arms, legs...

Then somehow it struck my young brain that the rest of the family was still a ways down the hill, and if I was to survive this ordeal I had to get myself out of it.

Screaming, I fought my way down the stone steps, across the moat (Yes, there was a real moat!), and down the muddy hill towards my parents who helped brush the remaining bees from my hair and clothes.

A man in a nearby village rubbed some type of alcohol over my body, and strangely enough, the pain actually began to subside enough that I could sit numb on a beach with my family that afternoon.

I'm sure I was stung over a hundred times, but knowing my mother, she will read this and remind me of the real number of stings.

Mom, can we at least agree it was a lot of stings?

The Ural article has generated a lot of hits on the blog. At least a hundred.

That's not a lot?

Huh. How many hits does the Huffington Post get a day?

Oh.

The Ural story also raised some interest on motorcycling websites, including the popular Adventure Rider.

And maybe even some business for Mickey, our Alaskan Ural dealer.

Yesterday I felt a bit shy about riding.

Girdwood is a small town and a good number of people mentioned the article to me between stops for coffee, groceries, and lunch.

Today though, the shyness passed and I took Sadie up Crow Creek Road for a good romp in the woods.

The Hand-tram trail was in good shape. Not much snow, at least on the Crow Creek Road side, and we didn't come across any bees.

Wonderful creatures, bees.

But that nest... I'm not sure I like it so close to the house.

Tell you what, bees. Keep doing your thing and no stings, and I'll keep from tossing any rocks your way.

Otherwise, we both lose.

Choose Sides? Choose Sidecars!

2010-05-19T17:00:00.009-08:00

Monkey

Hacking Away

I have been waiting to post about the Ural because the Anchorage Daily News may run a story I wrote about it.

But things tend to happen when we let go of them and concentrate elsewhere. Still, just in case the story makes this Sunday's edition, I will refrain from writing about the Ural another week and post a few pics instead.

Quite an interesting debate on whether the plans for the Russian-made Ural were stolen from the Germans BMW plants during WWII, and then reverse-engineered, or, were actually sold to the Russians pre-war.

Since we are not discussing the Ural we are wide open to suggestions for a topic...

I was only looking for a sidecar so Sadie (the dog) could join me. Any sidecar would do. It was the sturdiness of the Ural frame, the engage-able sidecar wheel to create two-wheel drive power, the 'price/what you get for price' ratio, the retro look and cool name, the trunk, and the fact that there is a dealer in Alaska who went out of his way to help me understand and begin to learn the bike, which led me to the Ural Patrol you see in these photos.

As those of you who have followed this blog from earlier days, you may remember that the title (Barnyard Devil) has nothing to do with Satan, or working on a farm.

It came from a (currently unpublished) novel I had written based on the polarization of opinion within the United States. The 'Barnyard Devil' is a dog in the story, who began, as all of us do, a 'Gentle Pup'.

Hence the web-address (see your address bar above).

Here's what I have discovered thus far about the Ural: It is fun... My gas mileage has averaged between 24 - 28 mpg (sidecar with windscreen, and driving mostly along Turnagain Arm to Anchorage, which is often windy)... I have done all of my grocery shopping via sidecar since I bought the thing (it has a good-sized trunk and racks on which to strap down stuff)... It is a lot of fun... With little or no wind I can cruise at 65 if I'd like, but the bike seems to love 55-60, which is a great way to enjoy the ride anyway... In a headwind I am dead in the water though, and have to pull over often as larger vehicles threaten to run me over from behind... Speaking of being tailgated, I hope it's because people think the rig is cool and want a closer look. Otherwise it means they have little regard for the fact that should I need to stop suddenly they will run me over and kill me. Yes, you win. Kind of... But as long as that doesn't happen, it is tons o' fun!

Do we really all begin as innocents? I think so.

Hollywood sometimes portrays a villain as Satan-ish right out of the womb.

Maybe there are a few of those, but I have found most people, throughout the world, just want to get through their day.

Many are vilified who don't believe they are villains.

Do Harley riders vilify non-Harley riders? Maybe that is too harsh a word. But they seldom give the 'biker wave' to non-Harley riders. Or, when they do, it's begrudgingly...

"Crap. I hope no other Harley riders see me waving at that dude on the Honda."

When I am on my Ural however, Harley riders talk to me...

"That thing kind of looks Harley-ish. It's pretty cool I guess. I'll give the guy a quick chat...Wait a minute, what kind of gear is he wearing? Is that Euro-style dual-sport crap? He does have some leather mixed in though."

An acquaintance wishes to polarize me. He told me that, "Other people don't like 'fence-sitters'. They can't tell what side of the coin you're on".

Same coin though.

An old boss once found out I didn't agree with him on a political issue and acted astounded. Based on what he knew about me he said he thought I was always 'one of the good guys'.

I asked him what he thought of my actual actions in life -- And he agreed that, based upon my actions in life, I did seem to be an all right guy. Helped others. Had a good work ethic. Was fair in dealing with others. Gave up shop-lifting at an early enough age that it was acceptable.

It was only later that it hit me.

One of the good guys!?!

I didn't have a motorcycle at the time, so couldn't go for a ride and let that shit roll down my leg and out the bottom of my Euro-style dual-sport motorcycle pants.

I settled for my bicycle. Actually had to break a sweat.

This 'biker wave' thing. Yeah, we are all brothers and sisters on the road, but on a road filled with bikes (like the Seward Highway during summer) there are a lot of brothers and sisters.

I especially like guys waving when I'm headed into a corner...

"Crap, he waved. Better wave back...Whoa! Maybe not."

Recently watched 'Waltz With Bashir' again. Couple moments always get me in that film.

Just like the little girl in this always gets me.

Of course, I shouldn't be on the internet. I should be hiking.

Riding my Honda or Ural certainly doesn't get me in shape.

Even though the Ural is Russian-built, the headquarters are now based in Redmond, Washington, USA. The engine size on Urals is 750 cc (they used to make a 650cc version as well). The Ural 'Sportsman' had a limited-slip differential. They no longer make the 'Sportsman', but they do make the 'Patrol' and the 'Gear-Up', both of which have engage-able two-wheel drive.

If the Anchorage Daily News publishes my story, and you are reading this blog because you noticed the mention of my blog in my byline, then this Ural stuff is redundant.

Here is an older entry.

Fireman's Poem For Iris

Out of all styles of writing, poetry is not the most popular. Why did I choose that entry out of all the possibly 'more-entertaining' entries?

I mean I have an interview with Tim 'Dr. Hook' McCraken! And it is the NHL finals after all.

So, why the poem?

When I was researching the history of the Ural sidecar-motorcycle, it threw me into World War II. Anytime WWII is brought up I cannot resist. It is too powerful, full of too many stories. Not just the stories and events from during the war, but those that led up to the war. The polarizing within nations. Vilifying people who (for the most part) were only trying to get through their day. Like the characters in 'Barnyard Devil'. Living in a polarized nation with little room to move in the gray areas. The name 'Barnyard Devil' actually comes from a poem within the story. I don't read much poetry myself.

Today's Ural ride along Turnagain Arm included a stop at Windy Point trail. Sadie and I took a good, heart-pumping hike along the cliff-band, out past the cave and to the waterfall for a drink...

Then back out to the point overlooking Turnagain Arm and the Seward Highway, where we sat and watched other motorcycles drive past below us...

Sadie put her nose in the wind and wondered why the fuck we don't do this kind of shit more often.

I bought her BBQ on the ride home.

I Don't Care About Your Politics, Have You Walked The Dog?

2010-04-07T02:04:00.014-08:00

Yes! I see the goat, too!

Sustained Chemical Reaction

This morning, after slipping, my friend said, "The snow and ice just won't stop. There will be no Spring in Alaska this year."

I know. Want some coffee? I'm quitting again, but first have to finish this bag of 100% Kona I ordered on-line... Don't get too excited, it's actually not that good. Not $32 a pound good anyway.

Let's take the dogs up California Creek trail for a walk. Should be frozen enough to not post-hole too bad... Except they do like to chase squirrels through the damn Devil's Club.

Devil's Club, for those who don't yet know, is the fiberglass of the Alaskan wilderness. Brush against it and you're itching and digging for invisible spines all day.

Difficulty typing. My mondo thumb bandage is getting in the way.

Health care reform? How about addressing the cost of health-care, rather than the issue of insuring everyone. I have health insurance, but don't use it. It's for major emergencies only.

After tearing my thumb open last night, and debating going to a clinic for hours (Rhonda finally got off work and convinced me I needed stitches), I drove into Anchorage to the Huffman Doc-In-A-Box.

It's going to be $600 - $700 dollars for the Doc to look it over and stitch it...

With my $5000 deductible that meant I had to shell out $700 for a thumb tear. Spelling Bee:

I-N-S-A-N-E

I took the $30 tetanus instead and we repaired it at home -- which is fine, really -- but health care is not going to get cheaper here in the USA... Although, I am happy for those who will be eligible for health insurance that were considered ineligible before. That is, if they can afford it.

Actually, you just have to claim poorhouse. I have received wonderful, cost effective treatment this way -- by visiting public health clinics.

Rembrandt Pussyhorse. First Butthole Surfers album I owned. First show was Los Angeles. Next time I saw them was in New York. Diamada Galas opened. Remember her?

She had something crazy, like an eight octave range!

Money I saved by visiting public health clinics (as well as the very cool surgeon who worked out a payment plan with me for my emergency oral surgery) has allowed me to take in a movie, or Butthole Surfer concert, from time to time.

I did drop $200 on the dog's vet visit yesterday. I'm not completely self-absorbed.

Anyone remember the Lone Star Cafe in New York City. It had the giant iguana on top? It's no longer there I hear, but walking home from my busboy job one evening during the late-80s I stopped in to hear some music... Mick Taylor was on-stage. He played one of my favorite Rolling Stones song of all time.

Sway

New York is like that. Walk in on something great without having to shell out thousands of dollars months in advance. Well, I guess the thousands of dollars you shell out for rent kind of evens things out.

Cost of living tends to balance out wherever you go. Durham rents were very cheap compared to New York, Los Angeles, even Anchorage. But wages were low. I think Rhonda made about $10 an hour less as a nurse in Durham.

The Thriftstore-Allstars have apparently broken up. House band for Pappy & Harriets in Pioneertown near Joshua Tree. Good news is I managed to get in touch with one of the band members who is sending me a copy of their recording with Victoria Williams singing the 'Louisiana' song.

I'd been a music freak my whole life, yet when we heard Victoria sing that night I asked if anyone knew if this woman had recorded anything before...

You don't know who Victoria Williams is?

Can't know it all. What's the difference between the fire triangle and fire tetrahedron? Anyone?

I tried to barter with the Doc-in-the-box, but she wouldn't have it.

I'll let you help me for $150... Hey, $150 is $150...

Guess she didn't spend all those years and all that money in medical school to lend a helping hand. Just like that Doc on NPR the other day. Breaking down how the eventual $300 he would make for a couple hours work (after paying his costs) was not why he spent all that money and time in medical school.

I feel him. I'd want the big-bucks, too. But the underground barter system is alive and well, and may be more the way to go until/unless our current economy stabilizes.

My father sometimes used the barter system. On the way home from school he might stop off at the docks to pick up some fresh crab or shrimp off a boat.

A guy owes me for some work. Doesn't have the money...

Of course the barter system doesn't fund wars.

After replacing a $45 bake element, the drive into town, and a $30 tetanus shot, our oven still doesn't work. But why should I expect otherwise? Positive results are something to strive for -- not guaranteed.

Companies can't lose money they didn't make. Stop falling for that line.

And the Doc-in-the-box could have had an extra $150 for about 20 minutes time, some thread, saline, and a needle.

We are a sustained chemical reaction who are so afraid of 'beaver fever' that we pay for drinking water, and may soon pay for air.

The fire tetrahedron is afraid of water as well (unless magnesium is involved).

We have dumbed-down our best. Failed to teach our worst to help themselves. Given out monetary stimulus and taken it right back in taxes, penalties, and the expense to enforce those penalties.

For my friends who seem to worry over my political affiliation -- I have none.

Rhetoric of beliefs. Two sides of the same coin. Both accusing the other of the same tactics. Both rejoicing over the others pain.

I thought it all would end when I left high-school.

Rhetoric of beliefs: The art of using language to effectively communicate why you are right.

Kurt Vonnegut effectively communicated with his reader -- at least with me. His characters never claimed to be right. Just witnesses to what was actually going on beneath the spin.

Louis L'Amour got you through a rainy weekend in a cabin in the Tongass National Forest. Tennessee Williams, like Shakespeare, used language so eloquently, it was half the reason for reading the story. Antoine De Saint-Exupery -- Flight To Arras -- convinced me you could convey a real life experience into words, even when there were no words to describe it. Joseph Wambaugh's The Choirboys did the same.

Ice-melt poured on the stairs so no-one slips. Probably will get into the water. Along with the moose piss, and coolant from the roads.

The Girdwood Mercantile sells bottled water. Lets you keep any new release DVD for two days (Blockbuster's policy is one day and you have to drive back to Anchorage to return it). I tried to bargain with the Blockbuster on Huffman once.

How about a deal for Girdwood residents so they don't have to drive all the way to town on their day off just to return a new release?

"We lose money on a rental you keep for more than one day." They said.

But we would rent more DVDs more often if you offered such a deal.

"No."

My father used to trade his services for crab. What do you think of that? .... Ah, hell. Maybe Huffman Road is built on some ancient burial ground or something. Although the Carrs Grocery on Huffman does sell Arrowhead Sparkling Water. That's a good thing...

I love Arrowhead Sparkling Water. Can't get it at Fred Meyers either.

I've got something for what ails you. No health insurance needed. Read 'Flight To Arras', or 'Bluebeard', or 'The Choirboys', or 'Flint', or 'A Streetcar Named Desire', or 'MacBeth'.

Listen to 'Sway'.

Crap. The Kona's kicked in, my blog entry is done, I'm finally done procrastinating and ready to start my screenplay re-write, and now the dogs are whining for a walk.

Of course I'll miss them when they're gone.

Where The Wild Things Really Are

2010-03-14T12:58:00.017-08:00

Life without pampers

We Three Kings

We were watching Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill the other day when I mentioned our family parrot, Ronald.

"You had a parrot named Ronald? How come I never knew about this?"
"I thought I had told you."
"You told me about your monkey, George, and your Kinkajou, John, but I didn't know about the parrot... Did you get him in Panama, too?"
"Yeah. He got out of the house one day in San Jose and never came back. Maybe he became part of a flock down there."

John, we were told, died as a result of some kind of pre-travel veterinary preparation. But we like to think the family watching him for us - while we drove from Panama to Alaska - fell in love with him and lied so they could keep him.

George started getting rowdy, biting us and running away onto neighbors roofs and the nearby boat harbor. He went to a private zoo in Florida where (we were told) they had a mate for him.

Ronald, probably died via hawk or cat or kid's sling-shot or starvation, but maybe he lived long enough to find other escaped/released pet parrots and partied in the skies above San Jose.

George

George had been found clinging to his mother as a baby when she fell dead from a tree.

She had been killed for meat by members of a local tribe along the Bayano River and sold, or given, to our guide on the river (this was before it was dammed in 1976, creating Lake Bayano).

He was a black spider-monkey, without opposable thumbs, loved chocolate chips, wore pampers, slept with us as kids, terrorized the parrot, released the kinkajou from its playpen, wrapped his tail around your arm like a tree-limb, and loved to play.

He loved chocolate chips so much he developed what we called his 'chocolate chuckle'. A hoo-hoo-hoo sound that expressed pure joy at eating chocolate.

Monkeys shit wherever and whenever, so the pampers helped with that around the house. We would cut a hole for his tail.

At one point in Ketchikan, Alaska, my father had built a floor to ceiling cage for George and Ronald (the parrot) to share. George would often grab at Ronald's wings, or tail-feathers, and try to swing from them, or just plain terrorize him and chuckle about it.

In Panama, when we still had John (the kinkajou), George would release John from his playpen at night. Kinkajous are nocturnal, so John would wander the house a bit before eventually curling up in bed with my parents.

George loved to play.

He would grab at you, then turn and run screaming, and when you were about to catch him, would somersault and turn to face you in defense, chuckling and screaming. Then do it all over again.

One morning I woke up with him wrapped across my face like the face-hugger from Alien. I sputtered 'George!', and he chuckled and ran off. I'm convinced he purposefully lay there waiting until I woke up, knowing how funny it was.

Don't bother mentioning anthropomorphism... That term is for people who haven't spent any time with animals other than their next-door neighbor, or in-laws.

John

Another name for kinkajou is 'honeybear'. They have long tongues, are golden-colored, have a prehensile tail, and love to tickle feet.

John was not as much of a trouble-maker as George, but still equally as fun. With his monkey-like tail he would hang from our arms as we walked around the backyard and up and down stairs.

All the time emitting his constant whine.

I don't know what his whining meant, but it was constant. He was a noisy creature, but sweet.

He'd hide under our multi-legged, fortress-like coffee-table, and us kids would poke our bare feet through the openings in the legs.

It was like the tree-stump in Flash Gordon. We could hear John's whining, but never knew whose toes he would start to nibble on with his tiny, sharp teeth.

The tension of waiting for the tickle-pain would start us all giggling, until someone would suddenly yell out and laugh louder, a victim of John.

Sadly for us, John never made it to Ketchikan. I'm sure he and the monkey would have continued to enjoy each others company. Torturing the parrot, escaping their cage in the night, and wandering the house getting into whatever they could.

George once got into flour and honey at the same time.

We heard his chuckling and came into the kitchen to find George had climbed a shelf and knocked over a honeycomb and some flour, covering himself in both. He seemed pretty happy about it.

I like to think that John would have been right there alongside George, draped in honey, if he could have been.

Ronald

A blue-headed parrot who loved bananas.

I've forgotten how we acquired Ronald. He was a very loving bird, but a bit noisy.

He wasn't as much fun to play with as the monkey or the kinkajou was, so Ronald often got left in his cage to watch as others had fun. Kind of a bummer deal.

But Ronald did get to spend time wandering the house occasionally. Perched on a shoulder while we watched TV, climbing the curtains, or walking around on the floor.

He pooped wherever, and whenever. This made keeping him on your shoulder (or even head) a time-sensitive issue.

Let's see, I saw Ronald poop recently, so I'm probably good to have him on my head for a bit... Nope, I was wrong.

The head thing was funny. There wasn't much to grab, and he would slip about on your hair scratching your scalp, until he finally decided he'd had enough.

But he loved attention and being around us.

You could scratch his head, or chest, and he would cuddle up closer, or make strange 'I'm happy' noises.

Blue-headed parrots aren't very large, so he couldn't really hurt you with his beak if he bit. He would lightly nibble your fingers with his beak sometimes. I don't know what he was doing, but it seemed playful.

Watching Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill made me miss Ronald, and I realized he got a bit of a bum deal compared to George and John. Often left in his cage to watch the activity around him just out of reach.

Hopefully he got a little fly time around the skies of California before he died. Maybe he even found some other ex-pet parrots to hang with, learn from, raise a family with, get a good job, Friday nights at the roller rink, weekends in the Sierras...

Ok. That's anthropomorphizing.

Anatomy Of A Jump

2010-03-12T08:00:00.005-09:00

Crack Kona-caine

2010-03-10T14:07:00.017-09:00

Snow is my crack...

Yeah, I'm Tired of Shoveling, but...

Why is it on the day you go in for a haircut your hair suddenly looks better than it ever has?

And every time you're finally motivated to leave a place, a day comes along that makes you wonder 'why would I want to live anywhere else'?

After getting pounded with almost 50 inches of snow over the past four days, the sun is out, the streets and sidewalk plowed (notice I said sidewalk - singular), and this is one of the most beautiful days ever on earth.

I got up early (for once) walked the dog to the coffeehouse, engaged in some great conversation (a good bunch of regulars today), got a box of ethel's Peanut Butter Indulgence Bars in the mail from my brother, and made it home in time to rake the snow from the edges of the roof and still feel like it is early enough to get in a good day's worth of writing.

The new screenplay (script, I go back and forth on what I like to call these things) is already at eighty pages -- fifteen of which are the ending, which gives me something to head towards.

I am aiming to have this one finished and polished in time for Nicholl, Austin, and Sundance this year.

The bag of Kona is gone, so no more coffee for me.

I had quit for over three months, but in Hawaii I let myself indulge - fell in love with the crack-Kona-caine again - so brought a bag home I let myself have.

That was a good time though. Drinking coffee again.

My money is running low again, but this time I feel less of the guilt of not having a career in something. With this script (screenplay, whatever) being number nine or ten, I feel legitimized in what I am doing.

No matter I haven't sold anything yet. The work has been put in, and when that payday does come, it will feel good.

Like the New Orleans Saints must have felt after all that hard work finally paid off with a...

Superbowl Championship!

Yes, I said it again... Stir the chili, Bump and Grind, Shake it, Yeah Baby. Show me the Monet!

Speaking of needing Monet. Anyone want to buy a Byron Birdsall original?

It's of the M/V Columbia docked at Petersburg.

Seriously. I need the money, and you'll be a hero to your grand-kids when they say:

Yeah, my grandfather got this for a song years ago. Just got appraised at 100k. He's leaving it to me, by the way. Yeah, gonna sell it, travel the world, try the local herb in as many countries as I can... Turkey? No, not there.

Google him - Byron Birdsall...

Anyway, I'm having a hell of a day!

Kona Peaberry Baby!

2010-03-01T14:22:00.024-09:00

Ancients say: With pineapple, sun, & surf, come centipedes

FOFB

Off the Facebook... Again.

It wasn't 'wasting time' that led me to sever the tie this time.

It was an article in a computer magazine about the nine things computer users can do to limit exposure to scams, viruses, and identity theft.

Social Networking was made out to be a particularly 'bad dude' - and since I don't know enough to know how realistic the magazines claims are - I move to the side of caution.

There is only so much self-education one can do. So I took the article's warning at face value.

Oahu

Back from a week in Hawaii. This time it was Oahu's Northeast shore. I went to write and relax.

All I did was relax.

Not that it's a bad thing, but I do need to get started on a new project. That's what it's all about I realized. Just keep writing.

Austin and Nicholl screenwriting comps are up again.

I'm actually over the comp thing. The entry fees. The carrots they dangle. The hype. But last time it did lead to script requests from reps and production companies.

So it's write, submit, polish, nap, re-submit, write, submit, play with dog, polish, re-submit.

In Hawaii we watched a couple of surfing and body-boarding comps at the Banzai Pipeline. That place is wicked.

Every time the water pulled back you could see portions of the reef exposed. Freaky.

And the waves themselves. A little bit of power to them. Deaky.

I've always avoided Oahu because that's where much of Hawaii's population and tourism reside, and when I go to Hawaii I go to 'get away'.

I have been in error. We loved Oahu.

A couple days sunning and swimming at some popular but beautiful beaches near Honolulu: Kailua and Lanikai.

A day at the Ala Moana mall for Kona coffee and Li Hing Mui/Crackseed/Chinese Plums.

And then up to the North Shore for a sweet little getaway.

Yes you heard right. I drank coffee while in Hawaii. Kona Peaberry baby!

We used our old standby, Vacation Rentals By Owner (VRBO), to find a sweet-ass little studio right on the ocean.

Clean, comfortable, kitchenette, TV and movies, looked out across the sea from our bed. Had to close windows at night during high surf because the spray would hit you in bed.

We stayed in Hauula. Beautiful, green area that reminded us of our time in Samoa.

Yes, there were a few tropical critters.

It was very limited in regards to stores/restaurants, but the drive to such amenities was easy.

Every morning, after coffee and pineapple, we'd load the beach gear and make a morning stopping along beaches to watch the surf, lie about, and jump in.

Sunset Beach, Pipeline, Waimea, Haleiwa, were all easy to get to.

Lunch at one of the many shrimp trucks. Then maybe the store for a shave-ice and to pick up groceries for that evening's dinner.

Home for a nap while listening to the waves right outside the window. Read. Finish the previous night's movie. A snack. Back in the car for a quick trip to nearby beach for a late afternoon dip in the healing powers of salt-water.

Back home, couple beers, cook up fresh Ahi and veggies, pop in a movie...

Tell me, when did I have time to write?

(photos: Another 'home away from home'; Ocean is life; I was more worried about theft than bees; Fresh local fruit; Different kind of green; Centipede outside front door; This view from our bed helped us chance the centipedes; Ahi, avacado, and stir fried veggie dinner; Waimea)

I Thought The Creek Was Frozen

2010-02-15T20:13:00.008-09:00

For sale on Ebay: Sock soaked in genuine Alaskan river

Brain Pains

Going crazy trying to start this new screenplay. Constant procrastination.

Called Rhonda at work just to have someone to talk to, but she was in the middle of a "chest pain" patient, so I had to wait.

My "brain pain" doesn't pay her bills. Chest-pains do.

Return to Ice?

The application period is coming up.

A friend has been giving me heads-up on some of the positions available. Since I didn't return this season I'm "back in the stack". Just another application to wade through.

Do I want to return?

Yes. I need work again, I loved the atmosphere, and the travel perks are great.

Is this the right time to return.

That's the real question. I don't know yet. It would probably guarantee me selling a screenplay though.

Matt! They love your script and would like to meet. How's Wednesday at three? You're where?

Saints

You knew I'd mention them.

The Superbowl still seems surreal to me.

The last moment that I really remember was right after the Saints beat the Vikings in the NFC Championship. I was jazzed for days.

Since the Superbowl I've been kind of waiting for it to hit me.

Maybe it's because my mind is back on needing a paycheck. Once I get one of those, I'll probably start shouting out loud, 'The Saints just won the Superbowl!'

This will be around April.

Ebay

Thought this might help tide me over until I got another job. I have a storage unit full of stuff. Maybe I could bring in a hundred a week for grocery money.

Many of you already know this. I'm just picking up on it:

Selling stuff on Ebay ends up costing you money. Best to just give your stuff away.

I've sold some items and am still in the red. Listing fees, final sale fees, Paypal fees, postage, tracking, packaging...

Like the saying goes: The only ones getting rich during a gold rush are the ones selling the shovels.

Alaska

What is it with all these lower-48 people asking me how I like living in 'Palin Country'?

There's a lot more to Alaska.

I don't ask a Californian how they like living in 'Manson Country'... a Washingtonion how they like living in "Green River Killer Country'... a New Yorker how much they enjoy 'Gotti Land'... a New Mexican what they think about inhabiting 'Billy the Kid Country'... an Illinoisan how they feel about 'Obama Land'...

Wait a minute! Just what do you mean by that?!?

Exactly.

As far as our former governor goes, I've never even seen the woman in person. And since you all seem to despise her so much, why do you keep reading about her? Asking about her? Talking about her?

You're making her famous!

Stop it.

New Orleans Saints Superbowl Champions!

2010-02-08T18:41:00.012-09:00

Saints spirit alive & well in Alaska

Obvious title, but I've been waiting to say it for a long time.

Thought it might never happen, at least not during my lifetime. So many pieces have to fall into place at the right time.

I enjoyed watching the games over the years though. Visiting New Orleans. Getting my hopes up during the better seasons.

And now it happened. Superbowl 44, during my 44th year on earth.

I'll take it.

Where To Watch

I never wanted to attend a Superbowl. Too expensive, and you get a better view of the game on television.

Unless the Saints were in it.

I said I'd go then.

What I hadn't figured into the equation was you really don't know if your team is going to make it until two weeks prior to the game (some years it's one week). Travel, hotel, game tickets are hard to come by and expensive two weeks out.

When New Orleans beat Minnesota I realized no way I could make it work. Unless I maxed the credit card, and it's already maxed.

Next best thing. I bought $100 worth of raffle tickets.

Winner would receive four tickets from Saints player's Drew Brees and Heath Evans allotment (their foundations sponsored the raffle), $5,000 in travel funds, and three nights hotel stay AND your taxes on the winnings (valued at $17,000) would be covered.

I crossed my fingers and didn't win.

So, had to stay in Alaska and choose a TV.

Not a sports bar, not for the Superbowl.

There would be equal numbers of the opposing teams fans to contend with. They'd be drunk and willing to let you know how much your team sucks.

Family and friends are best. Even if they are for the other team, they're not going to give it to you too hard.

Great Day!

One brother flew up to hang for the game. The rest of the family all chipped in and brought food and drinks, provided the TV and couches, and made it an awesome time.

Food included: Alaskan scallops, chicken wings, BBQ ribs, cheesy-chowder, guacamole, spinach dip, deviled eggs, and veggie platters with blue cheese.

Most of the family rooted for the Saints, Rhonda and my niece Bristol being the two Colts fans. But even Rhonda pulled for the Saints on this one.

My brother's family had just lost their long-time family dog the day before, and the kids were feeling pretty sad, so I was happy we could chill together and eat some ribs and scallops!

Put To Rest

They did it. New Orleans Saints have won a Superbowl and that can't ever be taken away.

Many Saints fans wanted this long before Katrina, and for me this Superbowl is not about "let's win it cuz of Katrina", but it certainly can't hurt that it happened at this time in history, and that so much attention and money is being brought to that region because of the past four seasons the Saints have had.

To the football fans who made public comments trashing citizens of the regions affected by the hurricane - especially the guy wearing the sign "We're going to finish what Katrina started" - go slip on a turd on your way to work.

Since Katrina, it was no longer "Your team sucks", it became "I'm glad your family died, hope the next one takes the rest of you out".

Those spewing such hatred in public have little concern for how people's lives were affected. Everyone vents about the crap we wade through in life, but use some tact when you're not among friends.

Put your hatred to rest. Go eat a cheeseburger. You'll feel better.

New Orleans Saints Win Superbowl!

Yes they did.

I haven't had to ask "did it really happen" like I did after the NFC Championship game.

After checking out hundreds of YouTube videos, blogs, on-line news sites, and ESPN Sportscenter, I'm convinced it happened.

That many people couldn't be in on the same lie... Right?

This morning I quickly checked the news on-line to confirm it again, then took the dog out to play in last nights new snow.

The sun even came out for the afternoon before returning to the mini-storm we've had these past couple days.

It Was An Awesome Season - the Best

I enjoyed every moment this season.

Watched every game - even if I had to stream it on-line and view it as a 2x4 inch square. Re-watched hightlights from every game. Read every article I could get my hands on. Traveled to New Orleans for the game versus New England. Met other Saints fans. And got to enjoy a Superbowl win with my family.

The Game

You all saw it. I'm too spent to re-work the entire game into a blog entry right now, and besides, it's been written about a thousand times already.

But there were a couple moments:

*Saints second quarter time of possession gave me real hope that, This could happen. We are going to win!

*On-side kick-off to start the second half. Who saw it coming? NO ONE! It caught everyone by surprise and was thusly that much more awesome-er!

*Taking that on-side kick and going down-field for the score.

*Garrett Hartley's kicking game. I have to agree with my brother that he was a good candidate for game MVP. His kicking sealed the NFC Championship game, and kept them in the Superbowl with confidence. Solid job.

*Lance Moore's catch for a two-point conversion. Find it and watch it. A great catch and play after the catch. To anyone who says it wasn't, and that includes ex-NFL pros who are now commentators, watch it again. Awesome athleticism.

*Tracy Porter reading and jumping Reggie Wayne's route for an interception and touchdown.

*Seeing Drew Brees holding his son after the game and feeling the emotion.

*Seeing the Lombardi Trophy handed to the Saints.

Wish I Was In New Orleans For The Parade...

But I'm not... So, you all have the party of your lives and I'll look for your clips on YouTube.

The 'Aints no longer. That dark cloud is gone. Winners. It has happened and can't ever be taken away.

New Orleans Saints, Superbowl Champions!

(Addendum - I'm in Denial)

Just ran into another fan at the Girdwood Mercantile.

He was wearing his Saints sweatshirt, and I had on my NFC Champions hat. Both of us were surprised to find another fan in Girdwood. So much of the talk had been "pro-Colts".

I could see he was still emotional about the game. Like me, he'd been watching Sportscenter over and over to make sure it was real, calling friends back home, pinching himself...

He said he was born and raised in New Orleans, has been a lifelong season ticket holder, and this year his son had been born, so that was why the Saints had made it.

With me it's: "My 44th year, and it's Superbowl 44".

After running into this guy I've just realized I have not come to terms with what has happened yet.

It is too much to try and remember when this obsessed madness started. Every hope I'd ever had for the team, and every frustration.

The reasons I had championed underdogs in so many walks of life for so long.

I'm not even sure what this really means to me right now.

(photos: Eve of the win!; Snow on a vehicle is like a chalkboard; Today's walk; Shoveled into the backyard)

New Orleans Saints to the Superbowl!

2010-01-25T18:20:00.020-09:00

Showing the love in the snow

Did It Finally Really Happen?

Do other grown men shout at their television knowing that no-one, except the dog and other people in the room, can hear them?

Do tears stream down their face over something as minuscule in life as an NFL game?

Did anyone else uncontrollably yell "The Saints are going to the Super-bowl!" as kicker Garrett Hartley's forty-yard field goal won the game?

19 Seconds Left in Regulation

Those final moments of regulation, up until Hartley's beautiful kick in overtime, were as stressful as any I've ever felt.

Sweat stained my shirt.

My mind had scrambled for any possible realistic scenario that could pull off this win for the Saints - A fumble, pick, penalty, missed field goal...

I almost couldn't watch the game to begin with. More than once I had told Rhonda I was nauseous.

As the game progressed I began to plan how to best handle what looked to be defeat during the final nineteen seconds of regulation (through exercise, not spiteful trash-talk)...

But there was a penalty. And a pick. And a game-winning drive in overtime.

You know why the game went to overtime

Because neither team could dominate enough to win in regulation.

Both teams played their hearts out the entire game. Neither ever went up by two scores.

They both wanted it that much.

It did not go to overtime because one team "gave the game away" to a lessor team...

Viking's running-back Adrian Peterson, as spent and emotional as he was after the game said, "I felt they didn't win the game, but rather we lost it"...

Take a lesson from other teams in the NFL when they lose a game - including the Saints - and give credit to the other team for what they did well.

Otherwise it sounds like you're saying the other team isn't any good - But they beat you, so what's that make you? No good?

That you should have won when you didn't?

Well, why bother even showing up? Phone in what you think the score should be (like football experts do) and enjoy a lazy Sunday at home.

I watched the replays. The Saints caused those turnovers. The Vikings didn't just hand them over...

Except the muffed hand-off between Vikings QB Brett Favre and Peterson. Yeah, on that one the Saints caught a break.

Just like the Vikings caught breaks. Which brings us to...

It did not go into overtime because of "bad" or "missed" penalty calls...

All teams in NFL games catch breaks. Missed calls on their side, bad calls on the other team.

Many of these are momentum changers, but not game changers. Not in the NFL.

The game is decided during the entire time of play. During which a team can work to so completely dominate another team that no missed call, turnover, or unlucky bounce can undo their hard work, and they come up with the most points by end of regulation.

If they can't, it's on to the coin-toss.

And no-one wants the coin-toss.

In the NFC Championship between the Vikings and Saints there were requisite missed and bad calls on both sides. In the case of both teams, it set them up to score.

If a team believes they lost by a mistake at the end, the game was really lost earlier in the day.

Not enough third-down conversions... Allowing the other team to score... Ball protection... Being outplayed long enough for the other team to stay alive until that final crucial moment...

As a fan you can whine during the game. Shout at the TV. Text "What a BS call!" to your friend.

But after the game, suck it up. The score isn't going to change. We all go through it.

Played Their Hearts Out

I wanted this match-up.

If the Saints were going to the Superbowl I wanted them to go through the strongest opponent in their conference.

This year I believed that to be the Vikings.

Minnesota overcame playing on the road in the loudest dome in the NFL (according to players). They overcame multiple turnovers and stopped the Saints three times on third and short.

Favre overcame a tremendous pounding to keep the game close to the end.

On the other side, New Orleans defense was a monster. They caused multiple turnovers through relentless playing, and forced three straight punts in the first half, when the Vikings had a chance to go up by two scores.

Saints quarterback Drew Brees had a tight game - not big fancy yardage numbers - but not one pick.

It was a great game played by two great teams.

Even during the final nineteen seconds of regulation, when I thought it might actually be over for the Saints, and fought off the fear of a long Monday, I knew in my heart this game was a show-stopper.

The constant manic-depressive ups and downs of this game were draining emotionally for fans of both teams.

Neither team let the other run away with the game. Those guys played their hearts out.

From the Bayou to the Frozen North...

Saints fans across the nation laughed, wept, shouted, danced, partied - and it wasn't even the Superbowl.

I live in Alaska, but have managed to travel to New Orleans for a few games over the years, including this season's game against New England. The local fans there always infect me with their positive outlook and festive mood.

The feeling is tremendous. I went to bed at 3am this morning not sure it really happened.

Fearful that Hartley's field-goal might not make it, except it already had.

Or that the Vikings were setting up for a 50+ yard field goal of their own, except Saints corner Tracy Porter intercepted Favre, and the Viking field goal attempt never came to light.

So many years of waiting, hoping, following dismal seasons, or seasons that made you think 'maybe' but never came to be.

This win has affected me more than a 'simple' football game should. I've had moments where I suddenly laugh out loud and tears run down my face.

It hit me in bed last night. Again today. I'm sure it will tomorrow as well.

For the first time in the team's forty-three year history.

New Orleans Saints to the Superbowl!

(photos: Showing love in the snow; Got the paper on eBay; Days of the 'stache; A hat I'd never thought I'd see; Dog trying to steal my knit Fleur de lis; Versus New England)

Holiday Haze Lifts: I See Country Hottie & NFL Forfeits...

2010-01-07T18:14:00.019-09:00

... And venison dogs, port, choco cherries, Cajun beef

Walrus?

Slipping on the blog posts due to wino holiday haze.

Stares into mirror... 'Who am I?' ... Face morphs into walrus... 'Oh. That guy.'

Resolutions

Kept my coffee promise so far. Coming up on two months sans the bean.

Just started the 'no alcohol' campaign. It will take about a week, but I soon expect to stop seeing myself morph into a walrus in the mirror.

Writing

Pushing the scripts. The interest still trickling in since my Nicholl Fellowship placement.

I used to hand out hard copies for fear of how easy it is to forward an emailed pdf screenplay to any and everyone. Harder to track who has seen your work... but convenient.

Due to this convenience I decided to go ahead and email the pdfs.

You do what you can to protect your work. In addition to the obligatory registering with the Writer's Guild, I've gone back to registering everything with the Library of Congress.

In reality it's difficult to completely protect yourself. What are you going to do? Purchase all 500 TV channels and stay up late scanning all their content for thievery?

Say you see something suspiciously familiar. Then what? Look up the credits for a name you might recognize?

Wait a minute, there! Johnny Johnson! I think he was an intern for a guy who was roommates with a guy who was an agent at 'We Make You Famous Agency' who once employed Jenny Jenniferson who moved over from 'We Keep You Famous Management Firm' which is where I sent a copy of my script! Now, to prove it.

Wow, Emmy Lou Harris is beautiful. Listening to random mix as I write and the album cover for 'Pieces of the Sky' just popped up. Country Hottie.

I've checked out a couple of her shows, but my first show was my favorite. Late 70s at some college in San Jose (DeAnza?). We went to the stage door and got to briefly meet her. I wanted her to be my girlfriend, but I was twelve and she was older than that.

Ok, now I'm off-topic, but let's continue down this road... I decided to play some John Lennon and just noticed that all the John Lennon I purchased on iTunes is suddenly gone, and no record of me ever having purchased/owned them.

WTF?

Does iTunes employ a program that selectively removes purchases from your computer whenever you log onto their site? Trying to get you to 're-purchase' them as if you never owned them to begin with?

Did someone hack into my laptop and steal my songs?

Or... Am I losing my mind?

Well, after another month sans coffee, and a couple sans alcohol, we shall see what my brain reveals to me.

Football

First, the Saints. Awesome regular season! Their wins and play kept me buoyant for many weeks this season.

Yeah, they've slipped these past few games. So what? 13-3, best season ever.

Drew Brees drew a perfect QB rating vs. the Patriots in one of the best games of the year. Darren Sharper had a monster interception/ pick 6 season. Jonathan Vilma played as well as any defensive back in the NFL. Reggie Bush started running North & South. Will Smith piled on the sacks. At least nine different offensive players scored TDs. And even after their final three regular season games (all losses), the Saints still led the NFL in points scored and were ranked #1 offense in the league.

Thanks New Orleans... Now dig deep and make it happen.

In other football news, I hate seeing starters sitting out entire games if they're not injured. Fans pay good money to travel from out of state, get hotels, game tickets, buy your merch, and they want to see you give it your all.

This is football. Or, it used to be. Now it's a monster industry, like Hollywood. With egos and money to match.

Read Johnny U: the Life and Times of John Unitas to get that football feeling I'm talking about.

The way it used to be when it first drew me in. Sunday afternoons watching it on TV with my grandfather (without having to buy NFL Sunday Ticket, or even cable).

Coaches, if you want to protect your players because it is such a monster-money entertainment industry, just forfeit the game. I searched and couldn't find anything that said it was illegal for a team to forfeit a game in the NFL - although I imagine if it isn't, it soon will be, since it could mean big bucks down the drain.

Forfeit - Protect all your players, not just a few handpicked stars (like last Sunday's game: why not protect Bush, Colston, Meachem as well? Are they not as important for the playoffs?)

Forfeit - and refund the fans money.

Forfeit - or show up and play a good game of football.

And I don't care about the Wes Welker argument.

(photos: candyland; a great Port to hit the wagon with; venison dog; Frosty on the window; choco-covered cherries; Saints ornament; Cajun dinner; backyard New Year's Eve fire-pit)

Winter Wonderland DTs

2009-12-15T01:14:00.020-09:00

Hoarfrost, Whore-frost

A Winter's Tale

Some winters it snows, and immediately after it warms a bit, leaving slush.

The slush turns to ice as the temps drop overnight, leaving frozen ruts and post-holes to drive and walk across.

You would think it sucks, but it's ok.

The ruts and post-holes (deep frozen footprints from 'post-holing' through fresh snow) provide for little ridges your feet can grab onto as you're trying to walk the dog down a sloping road.

What does suck is when it really warms, creating some run-off, which then freezes with the next cold-snap.

Now you have an ice-rink. A broken hip. Cars T-boning at the intersection. A dog with all four legs splayed in different directions. Having to crawl back to your house because the road slopes upward and you said 'screw the ice-cleats'.

Right now in Girdwood, things are pleasant.

We had a good snow a couple weeks back and the temps dropped while everything was freshly covered. Every branch of every alder and pine are coated with hoarfrost.

It looks like a winter wonderland.

The drive into the city looks a little grey, but not as bleak as it does when things get slushy and dirty. When it warms up just enough for streetwalkers to come out in their long-johns, noses dripping with whorefrost.

Right now, though, things are pleasant.

Winter wonderland and all that crap. Open bottle of wine always by my side because,

"This is the last year. After December 31st, no more booze!"

Maybe... I have managed to stay off coffee for a month now.

Winter wonderland and all that crap. Caved in and bought cable so I could watch football on Sundays. Still no job, but the cable company doesn't care. They only ask for a credit card number, not proof of employment.

I've paid off my debts before. My plan will work again. It has to. If it doesn't, it's the end of the world. We just might collide with the sun this time. Real global warming.

For now though, it is a winter wonderland.

Colder than my first few winters in Girdwood when it rained after every snow. Ski patrol wore their Helly Hansen heavy rain-gear some days.

But then, in the middle of winter, it would dump. That is the appropriate word.

Avalanches would close the highway - one time it closed it for five days between Girdwood and Anchorage. I was in my fire academy at the time and was told I could not miss a class...

But, um, the highway is closed. Covered in snow for miles. We can't drive it. One man was killed when the D-9 he was using to clear the highway was struck by another avalanche...

No matter, the Anchorage Fire Academy said. You have to make class, or start over with the next academy.

So a buddy and me paid $150 dollars each to grab a helicopter ride to class. I stayed in Anchorage the rest of the week and all was well -- Except for the guy in the D-9, which we flew over on the way to town. That heavy dozer had been pushed at least a hundred yards off the highway into Turnagain Arm. A lot of heavy murderous snow is how I saw it...

...Back in Girdwood, though, people were partying it up. This is a ski-town after all.

Where I saw work, others saw play. When termination dust hit I would cringe and plan trips to Hawaii. Others broke out the ski-wax and winter bong.

An avid skier in my youth, I had grown to hate winter... Shoveling snow, chipping ice, sliding through intersections, avalanches killing backcountry skiers and snowmachiners, pipes freezing...

But that was then.

Now, in Girdwood, I do see it as a winter wonderland. I don't like pipes freezing, and still prefer swimming in warm ocean waters to playing in snow and ice, but I've so far been spared being buried in an avalanche.

Hate is a waste of breath. It ages a person. Triggers cancers in our lives. Hunches your back.

Give in to the love brother.

At least try. Wine helps on difficult days. No more after December 31st though... The planet, she is colliding with the sun!

No brother. Give it a few days...

The booze will drain away, the spiders you imagine on your wall will wilt into pillow feathers, and the world will seem as it did when you hit you hit your first home-run in Little League baseball.

11 and 0!

2009-12-03T20:12:00.047-09:00

Magnanimously benevolent... a Saint

Newest Orleans

"Eleven and Oh!" The cry I heard before, during, and after the game between the New Orleans Saints and New England Patriots.

Heard it from the oyster shucker at Acme whenever a Pats fan yelled out "New England" on their way past the bar.

Heard it on Bourbon Street as Saints and Pats fans staggered past each other, Hurricanes in hand.

Defintely heard it outside the Superdome after the game as joyous fans spilled into the streets towards their car or favorite French Quarter bar.

My introduction to New Orleans came in many forms.

As a child when I had asked my father which football team was the worst ("Let's see... the Saints aren't doing that well") and, as a perpetual champion of the underdog, chose to follow them until that day they win their first Superbowl, if I should live so long.

Again as a child, when my brothers and I would play with our plastic football helmets and I always grabbed the Saints helmet because it had the coolest design.

When I first heard the song The City Of New Orleans (click and listen before reading further).

When I studied theater in college and read through all of Tennessee Williams plays (including The Lady of Larkspur Lotion, which I directed as my student project).

As a firefighter when I studied some of the great past fires of this nation.

Did I mention Acme Oyster House?

A friend who has recently been spending time in New Orleans (his screenplay is being made into a movie there, which is cool in itself) gave me a list of some restaurants to hit up during my latest visit.

I hit one or two, but why mess with what you already like?

Oysters, beer, and gumbo at the bar. I ate there at least four times in four days.

I have been to three Saints games over the past ten years.

"Only three? What kind of fan are you?" you may ask.

I live in Alaska, dude. I'm also on the waiting list for season tickets.

"Why buy season tickets, dude? You live in Alaska!" you exclaim.

I go when I can. Donate the others to be auctioned by New Orleans charities.

"Dude. Are you really that magnanimously benevolent?"

I cannot help it. I am a Saint.

First trip, Rhonda and I went to a game, held a baby alligator, had beignets in the morning and crawfish at night.

Walked Bourbon Street once and quickly learned we had little interest in its shenanigans (that's for you McCully). We then moved on to searching out live music, and walked into every odd place we stumbled upon.

We discovered Coco Robicheaux that way.

We also wandered into a great jam where they shut the doors and locked us all in because the crowd had grown to capacity. The place was "jumping and sweating" like you used to hear about.

I think this house must have been the inspiration for the movie UP...

Second trip was during a convention for the International Association of Fire Chiefs (I was an Assistant Chief then, or rather, an 'Ass-Chief').

Ate at K-Pauls once during that trip. That was good food.

Saw my second Saints game. This was the summer before Katrina. I hadn't returned until this past week.

Took a walk and found the World War II museum. I think I could study both World Wars the rest of my life.

I spoke with a museum greeter for a bit. He was a native of New Orleans and actually gave me a blessing for coming down to support the team and the city.

Then we started in on World War II, the current situation in Iraq, veteran's affairs, etc.

It took some more oysters and beer that afternoon to put me back in a good mood.

As I walked around I noticed the city looked vibrant and clean. New businesses sprouting up. A bit of trendiness (which always attracts more dollars).

I was only in the downtown, warehouse, and Quarter districts, so I don't know how the rest of the city is actually doing as far as rebuilding. But if the city center is picking up (along with the awesome season the Saints are having) that will hopefully trickle into a resurgence everywhere.

Are we? I've always thought so.

It depends on how you interpret the phrase. To me, it does not mean you have to take responsibility for the actions of others. It means, don't turn a blind eye just because it inconveniences you.

I've had plenty of helping hands in my own life.

Started the day of Saints v. Patriots at Mothers with a ham sandwich (click on link for interesting info on the restaurant and hurricane Katrina).

That place was packed! They were broadcasting pre-game radio out of the dining room.

Back to the hotel room to choose a hat.

Which to wear? The old, or the new? Well, the old represents my original love for the team, but the new is where we are headed.

New territory at 10 - 0 (now 11 - 0!)

But when I wear the 'new' we sometimes give up big plays on defense, unless I turn it backwards and touch my dogs paw with my left hand before each play... Damn! I'm sounding like a superstitious New England fan!

The Super. The Dome. The Superdome. Let's jump ahead to the game and just say, That place was LOUD!"

Pre-game partying with the tailgaters and the gold 'Who Dat' dude. I'd already started in on beer and Bloody Marys and everything was fun.

Chef Who Dat has a blog on a blog that is linked to my blog. Get it?

The blog Black and Gold has exchanged comments with me in the past, and every once in a while I check out his links (he has a lot), 'Chef Who Dat' being one...

So when I saw the Chef in person I had to wander over. He did a little act where a friend holds a can of 'Whoop Ass' as he opens it with a can-opener.

Flying the flag. Took me a while to catch a picture of it unfurled. But I had plenty of time as I had arrived about four hours before the game.

Does he paint his underwear too? Now that would be dedication.

From my seat in the dome. A great view looking down on the field. I sat near the goal line and could see everything as it happened pretty well.

The last two games I attended we sat on the fifty yard line about row nine, and then in the upper, upper reaches of the stadium. All three views were pretty good for different reasons:

~ The fifty yard line/row nine was fun because you could watch the players on the bench and see the action up close when it happened in front of you

~ The upper reaches you can see the action unfold like a 'Madden drawing' (this guy runs here, this guy blocks this guy, and boom, Jiffy Pop Popcorn) and the fans are pretty wild up there

~ The club section, well, great view, comfortable seats, and access to a private lounge for more Bloody Marys and beer!

Where I sat this time, the Darnell Dinkins touchdown happened in front of me.

Darnell Dinkins, wow! Nineteen different players have a touchdown for the Saints this year.

It bears repeating -- That place was extremely loud (they say it hit 120 decibels) whenever Saints were on defense.

Brady had to take a time-out once, and another time had to walk up to his line two or three times to try and be heard as the play-clock was running down.

The result?

Mike McKenzie tipped away the fourth and four pass to Randy Moss... Saints ball!

No talk from me of an undefeated season or winning the Superbowl.

This is their best season ever, and I'm going to enjoy it as long as it lasts. You can't lose sight of that as a fan of this team. If you start looking too far forward you'll miss what's awesome about the here and now!

For those who wondered, I paid $300 for my ticket. A price I thought ridiculous (still do, no regrets). But, the season ticket holder in front of me told me tickets in that part of the stadium were selling for $1000 the week before the game. He also told me he had his tickets listed for $1500 because that was what it would take for him to sell them and miss the game.

My thought? He's frigging crazy!

That money would quickly be spent and gone, and he would regret later about missing any of the games during this, the New Orleans Saints greatest season to date.

It's been a long time coming. Hope it keeps rolling.

And Now, For Your Viewing Pleasure...

** The New Orleans Saints first play

** Dempsey's record field goal

** The Dome Patrol (wish I had seen play in person: 70's Steelers, Johnny Unitas, & these guys)

(photos: First, did you click on the Jiffy Pop link? No? Go do it! ... Ok, the photos: ah hell, they're self-explanatory this time ... Geaux Saints!)

Participation

2009-11-24T23:23:00.008-09:00

Remain conscious (and wear a coat in cold weather)

A Great Day

The endorphins are really rushing in for some reason.

I don't know why my body is physiologically reacting this way. But here are some of the things happening...

Script Finished

I finished a re-write on an older script. This one feels better than usual, though, and I've been trying to figure out why.

It's a fun story, but I cut corners on earlier drafts. Took the easy way out and hoped no-one would notice.

This time I did two things different: Wrote what I really wanted to write instead of trying to formulate it to fit what I thought an agent would look for, and... Didn't cut corners.

In the third act (used the three act structure) there were always problems.

In earlier drafts I addressed them by having long "explainy" scenes, explaining everything with explanations.

This time I set about trying to put the work in I obviously skirted before.

Every time I thought I was finished, I listened for a moment to see if I heard that nagging voice deep inside that said, "Come on. You know this isn't any good."

When I stopped hearing it, I stopped writing.

The Saints

Finished the script in time to let everything go, relax, and look forward to my trip this weekend to New Orleans for the Saints vs. Patriots.

It's great when I think about it. My favorite team, 10 -0, about to play the Belichick-era Patriots at home on Monday Night Football.

If you hold on long enough, things do come your way.

I'm not even thinking about the win. I'm thinking about watching the Saints pour everything they got onto the field.

Coffee

As much as I love a well-made cappucino or americano, it's been one week without coffee and I feel great.

One of my brothers told me he quit last week, and since I have been wanting to, I decided, 'why not now'? Just do it.

Everything in moderation is fine, except I have trouble with coffee. Once I start, I'm Mister One-Pot-A-Day.

Will it last?

I once quit for ten years. We'll see.

Walking

My exercise regimen has been nil. My walks with the dog (since she broke her foot) have been to the end of the block and back.

I once swam weekly. Went rock or ice-climbing on a regular basis. Rode my bike on back-country trails.

Lately it's been: type, walk to coffee-pot, back to chair, type more.

The coffee-pot has been removed. And I have started taking longer walks again.

Tonight was warm. There is still snow and ice everywhere, but it was sweatshirt weather compared to last week's negative temps.

The moon hung behind a haze, showing just enough of the surrounding mountains to appreciate their individual silhouettes and peaks.

Ice crunched as I walked. Everyone's Christmas lights were on. Not so much for the coming holidays, as they are to light up our homes throughout the winters here.

One neighbor strings Christmas lights through the woods so his grandchildren can find their way in the winter darkness to his house from theirs.

The icicles have formed on the corners of our roof again. Alternating between growing larger, or melting as the temperature changes throughout the winter.

Tonight, they were streaming with running water, back-lit by house lights and making for an image out of a science fiction movie.

Snow, ice, Christmas lights, running water, fog, Spruce trees, Cottonwoods, mountain peaks looming above it all.

A Great Day

I want to feel this way more often.

I have heard that some live this this way more often than not. I'm 'more not than often'.

But I made a promise to myself. To try and not waste the rest of my life. And recognize it for what it is:

Something you must be conscious for... Something you must participate in.

(photo: Me at the geographic South Pole. I chose this photo because it was truly 'a great day' when I found myself actually standing there)

Off The Kebab & Out The Brothel

2009-11-18T16:02:00.012-09:00

My sand dune beats your rubberband ashtray

If Offered A Headstart, Take It

How about those homeless (and hungry) guys in Russia?

Kill a guy, eat some of his body, and then sell the rest of the meat to a local kebab stand.

That would suck to read the article one morning over coffee and realize, "That's where I had lunch yesterday!"

That's what life is about. Keeping your flesh off the grill at the kebab stand.

Glad I was not 'born into a brothel'.

Got a dog I can actually pet and don't have to eat. A coat for the cold, crappy days I complain about. A credit card for things like flatscreen TVs, Amazon and eBay orders when I'm bored, and tickets to the NFL.

A real good headstart on not ending up at the kebab stand, or the wrong end of a brothel.

Of course, I could fuck it up. Lot of us do.

Concerning Death

Would you rather live to be 75 and end up murdered and your flesh sold to a kebab stand, or die accidentally falling off a cliff at age 9?

Find out you have cancer at age 50, and know about the impending doom for the rest or your life, or die quickly and incredibly healthy in an accident at age 22?

What about depression?

Wealthy and incredibly depressed? Or poor yet strangely content? (No, not college student poor, poor poor.)

Here, we find an answer. At the crossroads of those two questions:

For me, I don't want to die depressed. At any age. Even one hundred and one.

When I used to stare across the ice-shelf from McMurdo Station, Antarctica, and write about desiring to walk out across the ice on Facebook, I was actually supremely content.

Friends called me Captain Emo (which was fucking funny), and joked about my frame of mind (they were right to do so), but I was content.

I wasn't dealing with endless 'fine print' in my personal contracts with the world. I wasn't reading Yahoos top ten designed to piss-you-off or depress you news blurbs. I wasn't trying to ignore the 'load-of-crap-but-secretly-worrisome' check-engine light for another 5,000 miles.

And I wasn't sitting at home worrying if I was doing anything worthwhile with the life I am fortunate to have.

Sitting at home with fine print and worry drives me nuts.

Even with cable TV, Netflix, and Madden NFL (Hey! Wonder who will be on the cover this year?)

Even with the internet, cupboard full of snacks, or 'office' games I invent to procrastinate with.

Yeah, Office Games

My personal top three...

Dog-toy Toss -- A game played with a rubber dog-toy that is scored by hitting and successfully returning/catching the toy after it strikes a certain step on the stairway.

The bounces can be wild, and require good hand-eye coordination, but the thumping sound it makes drives anyone else in the house crazy.

Waste-basketball -- A classic. Right up there with 'Rubberband Ashtray'. Waste-basketball at its simplest is shooting wadded up pieces of paper into a wastebasket. But it can be taken much further.

Try placing the wastebasket halfway around a corner, exposing just the edge of the can and requiring pinpoint accuracy.

Or, arrange objects the paper 'ball' has to be deflected off for two-point, or even three-point shots.

Rubberband Ashtray -- I actually haven't played this in years, but it sure helped pass the time I had to sit in as a floor receptionist.

Many years ago I was a mailroom guy at MGM. In addition to delivering mail, I had to relieve the floor receptionist for an hour at lunch. Her desk was facing the elevator banks so she could direct people getting off the elevators to the correct offices.

Even for only an hour this drove me nuts... Until I discovered a box of rubberbands in a desk drawer.

There were two standing ashtrays next to the elevator doors, about twenty feet from where I sat. Each ashtray had a sandpit on top, and an open hole in the side for regular trash. See where this is going? Two points for the hole, one point for the sand, which actually required some skill of its own as you had to arc the shot more so it wouldn't skip across the sand.

The best part was watching people's faces as they got off the elevator. I always heard the 'ding' and made sure to not be shooting when the door opened, in case it was a big-wig, but if I had been shooting for awhile there would always be a bunch of missed shots all over the floor.

Occasionally, someone would not be too pre-occupied with their day to notice rubberbands scattered everywhere. They'd raise an eyebrow, look perplexed, shake their head, but usually no-one ever mentioned anything.

...Unless they had once been a floor-temp themselves. Then, as they passed by my desk, dressed in their sharpest business attire, they would give a knowing nod. Hoping I might offer them a chance to take a shot or two, as I stood lookout in the hallway.

In Conclusion

Try to keep your flesh off the grill at the kebab stand... Help others born into brothels... Love your dog (but not in the "wow, this dog tastes great" kind of way).

And, when you don't have a desert or ice-shelf to peacefully stare out across and let your troubles fall from your mind, ask around for a pick-up game of 'Waste-basketball'.

(photos: Happy as a child, jumping off sand dunes; Ice-shelves to stare over)

Weekly Snarfle

2009-11-11T14:50:00.016-09:00

I like noodles in my movies

Fleur de Yeah

Got my ticket.

New Orleans Saints vs. New England Patriots November 30th.

Paid almost as much as a Super Bowl ticket costs, but people spend more on a new car, so I took the money I saved by not buying a $30,000 car (I once bought a $14,000 Honda, which means I saved $16,000 over what my friends have spent, which means I can afford at least one trip to New Orleans to see the team I've cheered on for so many seasons).

No, I cannot afford it, but my credit card went through, so... Pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today, as Wimpy would say.

Phil, if you can arrange a flight from the South Pole, I'll get you a ticket to the game (I'm guessing you're a Pats fan).

Snow Falling On Sadie

As much as I dreaded first snow, Sadie looked forward to it.

I hate the shoveling, chipping the ice-damns from the roof, sliding on the off-ramps... Sadie loves the rolling, the romping, the snarfling.

Snarfling: Running nose first through deep snow making strange (but happy) snarfle sounds.

Writing Wrongs

Recent requests for War During Lifetime have led to some positive feedback and request to see more 'commercial' work.

So, I started digging out a couple older screenplays and outlining how I could make them more commercial.

Thankfully I stopped before I got into them too far.

More commercial?!?

Tried that once, doomed to fail. I've heard other writers say the same thing.

I defer to some Joe Eszterhas advice, 'Have the ability to sit on your ass...and write. That's your job. And write what you want to write.'

I see a beautiful and subtle film inside 'War During Lifetime', but it will take the right director and cast to see and tell it.

And, since the perfect holy trinity of story-director-cast (augmented by editing, photography, music, and art direction) is so difficult to come by, it's on to the next story.

Writing is what gives me pleasure anyway. Not trying to sell the damn stuff.

I always wondered how the scripts for some of my favorite films read...

Was it in the writing all along? Or in the interpretation and personal touches added in the telling?

Aguirre, the Wrath of God - My guess is they made it up as they went along, but watching Klaus Kinski clunk around in armor through the mud, and floating down the river with monkeys, my eyes were glued to the screen.

Sometimes A Great Notion - I actually read this script, and it's all there. Of course Paul Newman, Henry Fonda, and the Pacific Northwest scenery doesn't hurt.

On The Waterfront - All three. Good writing, directing, and acting.

The Thin Red Line - I would like to read this script to see if it moves me as much as the movie did. It's slow, and beautiful. How do you write that?

Ratatouille - Great animation, but it's all in the story. And the food.

Once Upon A Time In The West - Good acting and storytelling, but also a great story, which means the bones of it must be evident in the writing. Although you can't 'write' Charles Bronson's face. Just photograph it.

American Graffiti - I recently watched a special on the making of this movie, and it seemed evident that it was the time George Lucas put into casting each role, as well as the freedom he gave the actors to improvise within a structured scene, that helped create this gem.

The Host - As entertaining as this movie was for me, the clumsiness of the monster, the subtext of the importance of family, the fallout of hosting a foreign military, or the scariness of man-made environmental disasters, it all came down to the composition and photography of the final scene for me... Watching the man and his (adopted) son shut off the television and sit down to a great looking meal of hot noodle soup while snow fell outside. To set that up took some great story-telling ability... which starts with the writing.

Sullivan's Travels - The writing. Close your eyes and just listen to the opening scene between Sullivan and the studio bosses. It's all in the dialogue.

Enough procrastination.

Time to emulate.

(photos: the road today, with coffee; snarfles; snow on railing; snow on firepit; view from my writing desk)

Have Fun, Jimmy! (A Quadrilogy)

2009-11-07T21:12:00.014-09:00

The Hero must have a flaw...

Driving Home Tonite (1st)

Highway mile markers were my first choice. Then railroad markers (subtract fifteen). Next were visual cues...

Beluga Point, Rainbow, Windy Corner, Falls Creek, Indian, Bird Ridge, Bird Creek, Bird, Bird Flats, Bird Point, Girdwood, First Pond, Gun Mount, Chugach Sign, Shooting Range, Otter Falls, 2o Mile Cabins, 20 Mile, Portage Train Depot, Big Game, Portage Cabins, Portage Road, Placer River, Placer River Overflow, Ingram Creek --

Driving home in the darkness tonight from Anchorage I tried to remember the 'poem' I used to remember mile markers along the New Seward Highway -- 110 Belugas again, 109 landslide, 108 unfortunate fate, 107 climber's heaven -- when emergency responses occurred between mile markers, or in the dark of winter, these acted as cues to help me let dispatch know where the location was.

Super dark tonight. Moonless, everyones' headlights look like they're on hi-beam and people keep flashing each other.

Hey asshole! Your brights are on! Oh yeah...I'll show you...

They wait until they're just upon the other car and then blast them with their own hi-beams. Shoving the light down the other person's throat without giving them a chance to retaliate.

We're not as in control as we think we are. No wonder people speed up, or work not to let the other guy in when someone is trying to pass them.

Screw this asshole. Look at him. What's he doing trying to pass when there is a line of cars. We would all like to pass...fuck him. I ain't letting him in.

Occasionally, when the bore tide, Belugas, or an awesome sunset comes down the arm, I pull over and marvel, but more often than not I sit back for the ride to town, turn the radio on, and watch the human behavior.

Nashville, Tennessee (2nd)

Back from Tennessee. Saw some family and then spent two days in Nashville for Rhonda's birthday.

Both of us have driven through Nashville, but neither of us have stopped to visit. It was fun for two days.

Weather was great. We stayed at a great hotel downtown, and when the Titans game across the river let out, the streets became overrun with happy fans (Titans won their first game of the year).

Next morning we had room service (amazing how many extra charges hotels can come up with for room service), then took a walk through downtown and toured the Ryman Theater. The musical history there is awesome.

That night we hit some bars and listened to music. Browsed Ernest Tubbs record store. Tried to buy ice-cream, but the counter girl raced us to the door and locked it just as my hand grabbed the door-handle...It was pretty funny actually. Guess she wanted to make sure she got off in time, and not a minute after.

The next day we celebrated Rhonda's birthday with some great cupcakes from a cupcake speciality shop (she got one of those 'red velvet' things), walked over to a Farmer's Market for lunch, ordered room service for dinner, and...

Watched the New Orleans Saints on Monday Night Football. Kind of appropriate to do it in Nashville, since Hank Williams Jr. comes on to sing Are you ready for some football! (Exclamation point instead of a question mark. 'Are you ready for some football' is a rhetorical question).

Health Care... (3rd)

Is a racket. It's not evil. Just another racket.

Addressing health insurance costs is not addressing health care costs. Whether I have health insurance or not, health care still costs me the same.

With a $7,000 deductible, I pay almost every cent of my doctor visits, x-rays, medications, etc. Which is why I seldom go to the doctor, even when I need to.

For this, I pay $175 a month. Should I decide to get rid of insurance it now appears I will be penalized via a fine (if that part of the bill is still intact).

The only reason I have insurance is in case a devastating illness/injury occurs. We all know that such events costs in the tens of thousands of dollars. So, I choose the cheapest available to me, which comes to $175 a month. When I'm not working (I work seasonal, short-term jobs) I often drop my insurance...Except now, I will be fined for taking such an action.

When I pay for my insurance it does nothing for routine health care or maintenance.

Does not encourage me to get blood tests, prostate exams, oral or vision care (mouth and eyes are part of the body too, although basic health care does not see it that way).

It is mostly my choice to live this way. I know I can come up with more money, there's always a way to come up with more money, but why fine those of us who chose not to have health insurance because of financial reasons, or the fact that the insurance we do have does not make it any more affordable to go to the doctor.

I never use insurance to pay my doctor's bill. My plan doesn't cover me until I've spent $7000, which I won't unless it's some large emergent event, and if such an event happens it's goodbye car, savings, and Xbox anyway...

I pay my doctor bills with my credit or debit card.

Maybe we should force people to have a credit card, and insurance for the credit card. Fine them if they don't.

Actually, we should force people to carry insurance for anything they own, actions they perform, or encourage others to do (Have fun, Jimmy!) that can be shown to cause harm to others or incur damages.

There used to be an option (I had it with Blue Cross in the 1990s) where a person paid a very minimal monthly fee that covered emergent situations only. Even someone on a McDonalds salary could afford it. I dropped that coverage for a while when my funds ran low, and when I tried to reinstate it, Blue Cross told me they only offered that plan to those currently enrolled in it.

Made sense though. I'm sure many people were signing up for that plan, and than going to the emergency room for every minor ache and pain so that the visit would be covered.

And why all this negative talk about 'Socialized' medicine? I've received such care when I was traveling abroad. It was as good of care as I required. It was affordable (almost free). And the people involved all seemed pretty happy.

I've talked with people in these countries, asked them what they thought of the health care they received, and never heard a negative answer.

The problem with the nay-saying here in the states is that it's all theoretical. It's people telling each other the bad things that will happen because they can show on paper that it will happen.

But real life is not theoretical. It is what actually happens as we pontificate and theorize about what should be happening.

Kind of like Fantasy Football.

Man, if only the ref had called that missed penalty, and our team had scored more, and he had thrown it to Larry instead of George, and the clock had been working correctly, and we ran right instead of left on the 4th and inches...I would have won. The numbers all show the game was in my favor.

Injured Dog (4th)

This post is similar to a trilogy, like Lord Of The Rings.

Except it's a quadrilogy.

In the opening film we find our hero driving home along a dangerous highway at night, reflecting on how people behave like assholes to one another, and... Well, that's the film.

In the second film things get a little more intriguing. A little more action (kind of like Aliens 2).

We find ourselves in Nashville... Music! Ryman Theater! Cupcakes! Wow, what is going on here?

And then, just like Empire Strikes Back, we are left hanging. What next?

Third film. Heavy, Brooding. Not a feel-good movie...

A man, back from a drive along a dark dangerous highway filled with assholes, has sat down to tell his friends about a recent trip he took to Nashville, but lurking in the back of his mind were those specialty cupcakes. He asks himself...

What is all that unhealthy food doing to my body? I will never know because I cannot afford to go to the doctor to find out!!!

Now, we are onto our forth installment of the quadrilogy.

The man has gotten the health care bullshit off his chest, realizes that his opinion is only that, and decides that life only has value when we recognize what is really important.

Our families, our (no pun intended) health, and our dogs.

Except the man's dog has been injured!

Both the man's happiness and his dog are now in jeopardy (as well as the dog's health).

We follow the man back onto the dangerous highway full of assholes, past the airport that led him to Nashville (and other far away places), past the building on Northern Lights and Denali where the Alaska Blue Cross offices are, and into the parking lot of the vet!

The vet questions... What happened? Chasing another dog!

To x-ray... The toe is broken!

A splint... Six weeks, maybe eight! Keep the splint covered with this plastic lactated ringers bag when she goes outside, but! Take it off inside so it can b r e a t h e...

One more harrowing trip along dark, dangerous, asshole highway, but this time there is also ice!

The man gets flashed with hi-beams, flashes back, curses, swerves, feels his back end start to break loose on the icy pavement, and just as he is about to pull over and sleep along the side of the road until morning, he sees his turnoff...

Signals, makes the turn without sliding, weaves through the hippies wandering the street, finds his driveway, backs in without hitting the stump in the dark, unloads the dog, encourages her as she tries to figure out how to walk with the splint and... will she... she does!

She pees!

The man lifts the dog in his arms, carries her up the icy stairs, feeds the dog, makes a snack for himself, writes a blog entry, reads the preview for tomorrow's New Orleans Saints game, and settles into the most comfortable couch in the world for season 4.5 of Battlestar Galactica.

Which he calls a soap opera for men and doesn't really like. But then the crack addict doesn't necessarily enjoy the crack either. He needs it.

Our hero has a flaw.

(photos: Cumberland River, Nashville; Rhonda at the Ryman; author next to multiple squash; Hotel Lobby; Moon over Broadway in Nashville; Injured dog)

Reality Vs. Reality

2009-10-21T13:00:00.004-08:00

You wouldn't be able to move that fast, right?

Illusion of Reality

During the filming of the Oliver Stone movie, World Trade Center, a couple of firefighters, myself among them, were asked to perform for a special effects shot.

We were extras. Firefighters playing firefighters in the name of 'authenticity'.

The shot, as it was explained to me, would involve a camera fast-tracking us as we ran along a line taped to the floor.

This shot would later be duplicated in post-production and then placed within scenes of the Twin Towers tumbling to the ground, as hundreds of people, including emergency personnel, ran for their lives.

The costumers had geared us up pretty well. Full turnouts (firefighter coat and pants, also called 'bunkers'), helmet, tools, and SCBA (airpacks).

We were loaded. As we would be.

Time comes for the shot. An assistant reviews our action:

Run from point A to point B as if 'The walls were coming down around you and you need to get the hell out of there!'

Fine.

Ready?

Let's do it.

Action!

The three of us hauled-ass as if our lives depended on it --

Cut!

The assistant comes over.

Hmmm... Why don't we take it just a little slower. I mean, with all that gear on, you wouldn't be able to move that fast. Right?

We just did.

Right... Well, take it slower. We're striving for the illusion of reality.

Reality of Illusion

During a rescue of a woman who tumbled down a mountainside we noticed the arrival of a news van on the road below.

We weren't close to town, but the rescue was a difficult one, and it gave those scanning emergency frequencies time to get a crew out.

Patient safely away. Apparatus and crew back in service.

Questions.

How serious is the patient?

She fell about a hundred feet and was unconscious. Wet. Cold.

Why the helicopter?

She needed to get off the mountain before any more time passed.

Or?

She wouldn't have made it through the night... [Oops. Mistake.] I don't really know. She wasn't in good shape and needed help.

You said, 'Or she wouldn't have made it through the night.'

Maybe. Maybe not.

You said, 'Or she wouldn't have made it through the night.'

When the paper came out the next day I was appropriately teased for giving the media the verbiage necessary to ramp up the story enough to sell it.

The illusion of reality often sells better than the reality.

The rescue itself, which included a helicopter hovering just off a 45 degree slope, with the pilot at my eye level, had a moment where one bad adjustment or wind gust and we would have eight dead or injured rescuers.

But those moments come and go and are usually difficult to recreate accurately in a way others can envision.

She would not have survived the night on that mountain.

That, people understand.

Would she have? I honestly don't know.

People survive worse, perish from less.

(photos: In the movies, and at a fire)

Moth

2009-10-12T01:00:00.014-08:00

I always thought it was spelled Full Bright...

I went to unplug the Christmas lights that adorn the outside of our house year round -- it's always nice to come home to colorful lights in the dark on a return trip from Anchorage -- anyway, I unplugged them and a moth flew into my ear in the pitch black.

For some reason it reminded me of the first time I saw a Luna Moth -- when we lived in Durham. About six inches across, vibrant green. Here is a picture of it...

One of our neighbors there had told me about these moths and I had looked them up online, never thinking I would actually see one. Then one night I went to take out the trash and a large Luna was hanging beneath the porch light.

It was fantastic. I kept returning to the side kitchen door to look at it just 'one more time', before it decided to leave.

Thinking of the Luna Moth got me thinking about Durham.

Thinking of Durham got me thinking about my latest screenplay -- the one that recently brought me to the semi-finals of the Nicholl competition, which in turn got me thinking I should continue writing.

And after I had almost walked away from it.

Now, three polishes and a re-write since receiving requests to read the script, I am deep into it again. Pulling other scripts out of the drawer to see if they might also benefit from resurrection.

I wrote War During Lifetime while in Durham.

To recap, for those who missed earlier episodes, I had left the fire service in Alaska, spent some time in Los Angeles trying to get back into acting and writing (thank you Altoids), and then moved with Rhonda to Durham where she had a nursing job offer.

In Durham I had nothing to do except drink coffee, walk the dog, aquaint myself with the South, and spend my savings. I needed a job, and writing was a job. Even though it paid in IOU's that I may never collect.

Back to the moth here in Alaska that flew into my ear only moments ago as I unplugged our outdoor Christmas lights.

Why did it remind me of the Luna in Durham instead of some other bug in some other town? Because we had just been watching the film Sunset Boulevard (borrowed from the library).

Oh, come on. You know that's not such a jump when you really think about it.

Sunset Boulevard has a tragic ending. Makes for good drama. My latest screenplay has more of a hopeful ending. Does that make for good drama?

I'll tell you, it's given me pause.

I mean, I want to sell the thing. That means someone else has to give me their hard earned money for it, and maybe they don't want to buy 'hopeful'.

Why did I give it a hopeful ending if I knew that it risked tainting the tension needed for a good story?

Now we are back to the fire department. And my father.

I once asked my father to watch The Deer Hunter (after I had seen it, loved it, and wanted to be able to write it) and the first thing he said was:

"Is it a sad story? Cause I don't want to watch anything sad or depressing. How about seeing a comedy?"

That was the kind of man he was. His reaction to the things he had experienced in his own life made him want to stay away from sad, depressing, graphically gruesome stories with little hope.

I guess I inherited that.

Before, I had sought out intensely morbid, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking movies, and called them great.

Then, I ended up with a small fire department. After a few years I woke up one day unable to make it past the couch. I called in a week's sick leave. Gave my notice a month later.

I also began to loathe violent, sad, dark, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking movies.

Knowing that a good story requires dramatic tension, and that movies, even as entertainment, need to sometimes show a little of the dark side of human nature so as not to become celluloid syrup, I knew I could not just write about the comfort of a perfect pillow.

But I could add hope, couldn't I?

Sunset Boulevard is considered a classic. It has a tragic ending.

[Question from audience] -- "Does your script have a tragic ending?"

Or, in the words of one brother to another in the violent, sad, tragic movie Adaptation:

"Are you a former Fulbright scholar?"

No, to both.

I, have a moth in my ear.

(photo: Walking the dog on a hot summer night in Durham)

Bran New Day

2009-09-29T16:16:00.014-08:00

Casserole calls for: macaroni, ketchup, kraft singles, graham crackers

Muffin Break

Rhonda's famous bran muffins are doing their job. Almost too well.

It didn't help matters that I ate three of them. One of these colon-scrubbers is usually all it takes, but I couldn't resist. This time we had added homemade buttercream frosting to the tops.

(Actually, I was really only after the frosting, but had to eat the muffins to temper its ultra-sweetness).

Since we are talking poop, or at least things that make you poop, I should mention that there has been a winner to my contest.

I must stay true to my word, and that means an article on the subject matter of the winner's choice...

Alaska Backpackers Inn has chosen for me to write about a fish named Jackie O, and the fact that it 'poops' on its owner's salad.

What does this mean? We will find out together in a future post.

Additional News (& Faux Casseroles)

New Orleans Saints are 3-0. I have been on waiting list for season tickets (they have been sold out since 2006), but if they continue playing like they have, I may never get them.

Eagerly following this morning's news about the earthquake/tsunami in Western and American Samoa. Early reports mention deaths on southern side of Upolu, near where Rhonda and I spent some time...Hoping to hear that Tapu and family are ok.

I had some passing interest in my writing recently. Was asked if I might take on free-lance work about 'food'. It got me thinking about my father's quote: "Some people eat to live, I live to eat."

Watching my father eat was amazing!

He could hold a conversation at a party while simultaneously scanning appetizer trays and drawing you into how excited the food was making him without missing a beat of what you were saying.

At his memorial a friend even mentioned there had better be lots of food wherever he was.

I will leave you with something my father inadvertently left me:

There is no bad food. A faux-casserole, scraped together from all corners of the cupboards, is a gourmet meal when you've just clawed your way out of a storm.

(photos: Bran muffins with buttercream frosting; Crab-cake, taught to me by my father's mother)

The Good, Bad, and WTF

2009-09-23T03:03:00.012-08:00

Midnight. Second bowl of homemade chicken soup. Dog asleep at my feet. Eye twitching due to lack of sleep, though all I do is sleep...

So.

I seldom talk politics in the blog. And I am trying to refrain, but I am riled...

First, This Message

Most of what riles us isn't worth a breath.

It begins in what we read in the paper and online, or what we hear and see on the radio and television.

Meaning, we don't get the real story.

'Unbiased non-fiction reporting' is fiction.

Even when the writer is trying their darnedest to get it right, they have filtered it unintentionally. Tweeked it to put it on top of the pile.

Editors fit to available space and advertising. And tweek it to sell.

Over time, the reader, listener, and watcher can learn to read between lines, use the text as a guide to a general belief or emotion, and give over to becoming entertained or riled.

Police Reports

The most accurate stuff to read in 'non-fiction' are police reports.

Maybe movie times.

Art, food, and movie reviews are a somewhat safe bet, because even though they are only truly accurate for the writer, they aren't going to get the reader in much trouble for taking them seriously.

For movies, you are going to eventually see it all anyway in this age of Netflix. The good, bad, and WTF.

For food, the accompanying photo is often worth the price of admission. And food reviews are entertainment. Who cares about the writer's inner-life, tell us about the melting butter!

Art, like life, is subjective and changes with experience. What we don't understand one day, we will the next. What we don't like, we will come to love. What we held on high, we eventually crucify.

The comics are good for a distraction.

Classifieds have real purpose.

Sports pages usually retain a consistent audience...As do letters to the editor, op-eds, and (I hate this next word) obituaries.

I already worry enough about death. Don't remind me.

I Have Refrained

When riled, refrain from knee-jerk tirades.

Writing the paragraphs above gave me some breathing space. Like punching the fridge or chopping wood (instead of another human being) when you're angry.

I no longer feel the need to launch into a tirade over stories I read in the news.

Avoid the news.

Exercise, eat well, and always...

Love your dog.

(photos: Wtf? It's a view from the Girdwood handtram as two packrafters get ready to roll; Dog)

Roasting The Grind

2009-09-16T20:26:00.020-08:00

Roast beans, roast your friends

The Grind in Girdwood

Gator has an affinity for all things Star Wars.

He is the owner of The Grind, a coffeehouse in Girdwood, Alaska, which shares space with the local bookstore -- and he dedicates as much space to R2D2 garbage cans and Darth Vadar telephones as he does the muffins and pastries.

Gator carries Ravens Brew coffees from Ketchikan (delicious, with packaging artwork by Ray Troll) and makes a solid Americano. He has trained his employees to do the same.

Gator charges a lot for Americanos.

But that is only because he thinks highly of himself.

Of course, I pay his price. Because I like his coffee, as well as the atmosphere of the place.

Otherwise, no way.

The interior is small and cozy, sharing space with Girdwood Books & News. This makes it somewhat difficult for serious screenplay writing, but wonderful for conversation and browsing the paper.

And the conversation is always good.

Everyone steers clear of politics and religion so that we may talk about religion and politics.

And jumping-in is common. Something will eventually be said that an innocent eavesdropper cannot resist.

If Gator and I are both present he will undoubtedly try and bait me. Squirming in frustration when he can't get me to bite.

But I will bite.

I mean, it's his place. I have to give him the pleasure from time to time.

Meanwhile, I derive my pleasure caffeinating while interacting with both the local and out of town crowd.

And the regulars are growing. Familiar faces appear with each visit and, frankly, it's comforting.

Did I mention the entire staff makes great coffees?

That would be Tracey, Kyla, and John Michael O'Leary...aka Gator.

(photos: Storefront; Your friendly barista; Motorcycles brave rain for coffee; Amy & Brandon from Girdwood Alaska Backpackers Inn; Gator frightens another customer)

Oakland Raider on a Motorcycle (or Circa 70s)

2009-09-11T01:27:00.019-08:00

Here's a football and motorcycle fan treat!

Tom Keating of the Oakland Raiders on what I believe is a Honda CB 750 (could be the 550, but he was a defensive lineman).

And those smiling brats? My brothers, sister, and me. Photo taken in Panama, circa early 1970s.

Championship in the Mud

Me playing in Pee-Wee league, Ketchikan, Alaska, circa 1970s. My team was the Rams, opponents were the Chiefs. Until this championship game we were undefeated.

There was an educating moment in this game for me. I had fallen on a fumble (my first ever) and as they all piled on top of me a player from the other team began stomping on my hand with his cleats to try and get me to drop the ball. I remember my eleven-year old brain thinking:

"Hey, this kid is trying to hurt me. That's not what the game is about. I thought we were all here to have fun...His father must have taught him that."

The men below probably appreciate that moment

Big Ben Davidson

There are some great photos of Mr. Davidson's bone-crushing, helmet stripping hits on the web...But I'm not sure I have permission to post those.

So, from my family's own vault, this beauty of both Mr. Keating and Mr. Davidson pausing for some lemonade during one of their annual Central American motorcycle trips.

In this photo you will also notice a beautiful Honda motorcycle (circa 1970s).

My mom remembers that we shared lemonade with the two Oakland Raiders.

I just realized where my love of football and motorcycles stems from...The Circa 70s!

Years later, me on my own Honda traveling 'Top of the World Highway', Alaska (circa '00s).

Geaux Saints!

2009-09-09T15:08:00.011-08:00

Fleur-de-lis for you & me

The New Orleans Saints were given an early prediction as first-round bye for the NFC.

Shutdown Corner, a blog for the Yahoo NFL page, began its annual predictions for the season's playoff scenario.

Yes, it is way too early to predict such things - we all know it - the writer of Shutdown Corner knows it, yet the column gets a ton of responses because, well, we love football.

For myself, as a long-time Saints fan, it's not often I see confirmation from outside the fan base that we might just have a team.

Even a ridiculously early prediction of a first round bye is cause for a party!

And, to the poster who responded it was ridiculous the Saints were even considered for a first-round bye "unless something major happened in the off-season", you obviously weren't paying attention. You spoke before you engaged your brain. The subject matter is not your strength.

Something did happen in the off-season.

The Saints considered their defense. Both in the draft and in defensive coordinator changes.

I am sure, sir, you knew of their prolific offense the past couple years. The small problem being they gave up more points than they produced.

Even as fans we knew deep down our defense was struggling. Just as we now know we may have a real shot at going all the way.

Time and injuries will tell.

Regardless, I will be at one of their home games this season. Even if I have to ride my motorcycle all the way from Alaska to attend.

(photos: the Iris is said to be an inspiration for the Fleur-de-lis symbol; Saints fan in Alaska; Transportation)

Fear Of Success

2009-09-07T01:45:00.003-08:00

A grain of sand on Hollywood's Beach

Movie Makes A Point

In the film The Hustler (Paul Newman, Jackie Gleason), there is a scene where pool-shark Eddie Felson (Newman) asks a love interest if she thinks he's a 'loser'.

At this point in the movie Felson has had both thumbs broken by men he hustled, as well as lost eighteen-thousand dollars to pool-stud Minnesota Fats (Gleason).

Eighteen-thousand he was previously up, but couldn't walk away with.

The reason given (by a patron of the pool hall) was that Felson was born a loser. Even when winning, he would find a way to lose.

Losing Is Winning

Why would anyone fear success?

Over the years of striving for my own success in the entertainment industry I have always been confused by this. Isn't success, especially in this business, what everyone is shooting for?

The moon?

If offered, why turn it down? If lucked into, why refuse? If legally obtained by way of elbow grease and nose-skin on the grindstone, why throw it away?

Yet some do.

Theories range from 'not feeling deserving, or worthy', to 'being frightened of the changes' success may bring.

On the cusp of success the person sees it isn't the answer he is looking for.

He is looking for something else really. He only thought it was 'success' in the form of money, fame, notoriety...

In The Scene

Fast Eddie Felson describes what it feels like to be really good at something.

To feel it from the inside, every molecule and kernel of a thing, whether it be shooting pool or laying bricks, and shine at it.

To succeed at it.

And that is exactly what the woman tells him: You are a success. Most men never feel what you just described.

So Why?

Why fear the rewards as well, when they are offered?

Because they don't mean what you were hoping they would?

They just don't do the trick? Fill the hole? Tie everything up in a perfect package so you can continue on in satisfaction and bliss with whatever life you have left?

Shine at something. Touch the light. See God. But take the earthly rewards too...

Not so easy for some, and I don't know why.

Why we turn away from 'a sure thing'. Gamble for something else.

Content

What I want. What makes me content. Is obtaining something that holds meaning for me.

Not something the rest of the world says has meaning.

For example, I write. Blogs, interviews, prose, and screenplays.

With the screenplays I would like to make money, of course. But they are a casino game in many ways and I know this.

Still, if I don't sell a script, I would rather not sell a great script than not sell a poor one. So I look for what measures greatness in my eyes.

Assessment of a story can be greatly subjective, and we all have certain opinions we seek for whatever reasons.

A parent. An agent. A movie critic. The Academy of Motion Pictures Arts & Sciences.

All of those opinions can mean absolutely everything, or nothing at all.

Rain On A Parade

I recently achieved something that held great meaning for me. And then I gave it away.

A screenplay of mine, one that I actually liked, was given a minuscule bit of recognition from a tiny corner of the screenwriting world. Like, grain of sand size recognition.

But it was a grain of sand I thought was cool.

Best to keep it to myself, I thought. It truly doesn't hold much weight in the larger world and most likely will pass on by unnoticed by others, but it was a happy moment in my day.

Then I mentioned it to a few friends, and the minute I did, I regretted it.

My heart sank a little.

Next, I read some 'movie industry' opinion on this particular grain of sand, and my heart sank further.

It seemed everything I found said or written about it was vulgarly negative.

Not vulgar as in language, but vulgar as in spiteful.

I rained on my own parade, when I could have sat silently content, with a pot of coffee, and my precious little secret.

That, my friends, is fear of success.

(photos: How did I win this?; Contemplating success with Sadie on the tundra)

"You Have Advanced..."

2009-09-03T21:35:00.010-08:00

So, what's the Spider-monkey story?

Old Post-its

~ Write what you know...Rather, what you understand intrinsically.

~ Write what interests you...even if you don't know what the hell you're talking about you will create the belief that you do.

~ Write what they pay you to write. If you are hired to write something specific, for example:

"We will give you two hundred-thousand dollars to write about the different shades of grey found on the surface of a clam shell..."

...and you accept the job, then write what they pay you to write.

Screenplays

In regards to screenplays I have read it takes writing approximately ten before you write one with any merit.

I am on number seven.

With each screenplay I decided to practice something specific until that day comes when I magically marry all the qualities of a great screenplay into one.

For instance:

My first screenplay was simply to get one done. To actually tell a story by writing 120 pages somewhat related to each other.

Next, I wrote about something I knew well and loved...Apparently in such excruciating detail that the reader I paid to critique it said:

"Well, it is obvious you know something about the minutia of extricating a victim from an automobile accident."

For the third, I wrote with the objective of 'keeping the script moving'.

I started by heading over to the Writer's Guild library in Los Angeles and studying twenty scripts of a similar genre, all of which had been 'successful'.

I then sat down and focused on getting to the point of a scene quickly, cutting out of scenes sooner, and keeping a good balance of dialogue and action.

Screenplay number four was written with dialogue and character in mind.

Developing each character with their own voice and focusing on trimming what characters said whenever I could.

Script #5 (really it's #7, but there are two scripts I will fail to mention). For number five I concentrated on place.

To bring the reader into the world I was creating by placing specific descriptive details whenever I thought it wouldn't slow the reader down.

I came up with a centerpiece - an image I thought would be wonderful to see on the screen - and then wrote the story around this centerpiece.

Why This Post?

While getting ready to reapply for the winter season in Antarctica, paying no mind to my latest script submissions or query letters, I get a note saying I am a Nicholl Fellowship semi-finalist...

Not that I expect the world to come of it (the world comes out of the corners of our lives we don't expect them to, like working in Antarctica and befriending Spider-monkeys), but it reminded me that I'm only up to screenplay number seven.

I have three more to write. At least.

And it will be a good way to keep my mind occupied over an Antarctic winter.

That monkey was so damn cool...

(photos: the writer in Alaska; the writer with monkey)

A Manley Hot Springs (But She Likes it Too!)

2009-08-28T19:44:00.000-08:00

The Dog Slept Peacefully...Peaceably?

Drive, Hike, Camp

Drove the Seward highway to the Parks highway to the Elliot highway to the Manley turn-off (eighty miles of dirt road).

The first night we stopped and hiked Wickersham Dome trail. The weather was beautiful, the dog got some off-leash running time, the low-bush blueberries were still out.

We camped in the truck that night near a stream. Enjoying ham and cheese sandwiches, beer, and Swisher Sweet cigars (the girl smoked one too).

The next day we played on an abandoned bridge and then headed up the road to the turn-off.

Furthest West You can Drive in the U.S.

Once in Manley we had a bowl of excellent salmon chowder for lunch, before settling into a room at the Manley Roadhouse.

The dog fed and walked, we drove just outside of town until the road ended (furthest West) at the Tanana River.

I studied the construction of some fish-wheels we found along the shore, then back into town for a steak dinner.

At dinner we sat at community tables with about fifteen other people (including local sled-dogger Joe Redington Jr.), chatted, ate, and then everyone sang 'Happy Birthday' to me.

Tub O' Joy

After, we headed over to the hot-springs and soaked our bodies into super-awesome happiness.

Concrete tubs constructed inside a greenhouse. We had it to ourselves and got nekkid!

Wanna see pictures? Oh...She says I am not to post those.

At the bar that night the house bought me a double shot of Jamesons for my birthday. And then we listened as a funny conversation between two locals became a loud conversation, and then a "Fuck you!" conversation.

We slept peaceably. Peacefully? The dog did too.

We woke to rain and headed downstairs to the kind of breakfast you want on the road in Alaska. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, and coffee.

Not lattes, coffee from the pot.

Time for one more dip in the hot-springs.

Yukon River Crossing

Then two hours of dirt road and - instead of turning right and heading back towards Fairbanks - we turned left onto the Dalton Highway, or Haul Road, and headed up to the Yukon river crossing just past pump station 6 of the Alaska Pipeline.

The dog swam in the Yukon and we all ate salmon we'd caught in the Kasilof early this summer and smoked.

After chatting with Michal, a motorcyclist from Vancouver, we hit the road south towards Fairbanks.

In Fairbanks we had a late Thai dinner before heading further south for another night of car camping.

Along the way we saw a red fox.

At the End of the Day, Cell Phones

The next morning we drove through heavy fog until we crossed the Nenana River into the town of Nenana, grabbed some coffee, and continued on to Denali National Park.

Beautiful as that area is, we balked at the entrance fee, and having seen quite a bit of natural beauty the past few days, continued back towards Anchorage, and finally Girdwood, where the cell phones were turned on, and the email checked, and I already want to get back on the road.

That, my friends, was my birthday.

In case you wondered.

(photos: Peacefully being peaceable on the tundra; They are all bridges to somewhere; Seeking the lowbush blueberry; Car camping; Happy dog; Fish wheel; Manley hot springs; Minto Flats (for Dad); Alaska pipeline; Creek; Moose drinking; the Famous Skinny Dicks along Parks Hwy; Motorcyclist at Yukon River; Stand up!; Mt. McKinley; Holding up the pipeline)

Glacier City Devil's Club

2009-08-16T15:37:00.000-08:00

Hippie Shake? Is that made with ice-cream?

Blues & Berries

Hung out down at the Devil's Club the other day picking more blueberries.

The dog likes to eat them off the bush, so we leave the lower branches to her.

Rain gear is appropriate when berry-picking on a wet day in a rainforest, but it's not for me.

I always revert back to my Ketchikan days when I walked the local streets in sideways driving rain wearing jeans and a cotton sweatshirt.

Never knew which I cared for least: Rain behind me, sticking my jeans to the back of my knees, or rain in front of me, pasting them to my quads.

Yeah, it was miserable.

Made stripping down and pulling on dry clothes something to look forward to though.

Sometimes it never seemed to stop raining in Ketchikan (one of the wettest places in the U.S.). Never seems to stop raining in Girdwood either.

It is really beginning to make me growl.

I can ride in the rain - I don't want to.

When picking berries in the rain, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, give over to it. If you don't, you will be miserable.

Let the pants stick to your leg. The mud and muskeg coat your cuffs. The Devil's Club scrape and itch.

These are very survivable things.

Good shoes though, always. Let's you four-wheel through the thicker undergrowth.

Rainy, wet weather brings that cold none of us like. You hear it often, the kind of cold that clings to your bones, and it's always true.

Two of our three heaters aren't working and the house is just uncomfortable enough to feel uncomfortable.

Every hour I return to the garage and try to relight the pilot light to no effect. Replaced the thermocouple to no effect. Apply external heat to no effect.

Return to the house, grab a handful of blueberries, clean up the trash the dog has strewn - something she has not done for a long time, which means she is angry about something.

Probably the heat being out.

More coffee and another layer of clothes. It's not that cold yet, but again, it's that 'wet' cold and makes you think it is that cold.

I'm not touching the house heater. I decided this after I removed the front panel to discover the circuitry of the Space Shuttle inside.

The local heater repair guy might not be touching it anytime soon either. He's backed up before the coming winter.

The plight of Girdwood.

If you don't do it yourself, good luck finding someone who can, and isn't booked through til next Spring.

Call Anchorage?

Anchorage thinks we are on the other side of the world, even though a large number of Girdweedians commute daily to their jobs in Anchorage, or for groceries or a movie.

I have been quoted (in addition to the quote for the actual repair work) 'travel costs' of up to $75.

'Long distance' delivery costs for furniture, lumber, refrigerators.

Or they simply won't come at all.

"But you deliver to Eagle River from South Anchorage?"
"Yes we do."
"I'm closer."
"We don't deliver to Girdwood, sir."
"What you are saying doesn't make --"
"Go smoke your mary-jee-wanna, sir. We know how you all live down there. Dirty, dirty hippie-shakes."

Girdwood was once named 'Glacier City'. Some local businesses use this name instead. Hmmm.

"Now, with that fridge, do you deliver to Glacier City?"
"Haven't heard of it. Where is it?"
"Within the Anchorage municipality."
"Oh, yeah, if it's within Anchorage, yeah. Of course."
"Sweet, want directions?"
"Yeah."
"We're south of Huffman. Get on Old Seward...actually, it's faster to get on New Seward Highway through town. Keep going - might take you 40 minutes with traffic - keep going until you see Alyeska, exit left, just two miles down Alyeska and you're there."

It might work.

Besides, it can be a great drive...

(photos: Devil's Club; Blueberries; Dog picks her own; Always wet and stickerly; Turnagain Arm from Seward Highway)