The older I get the more I see a scary by-product of age. One by one, I notice my friends turn into bitter, hateful old men and women… especially when it comes to the issue of crime. I hear them talk about draconian measures, death penalties for children, and even with no sense of irony cutting hands off of thieves. I feel like saying “How very Muslim of you” though they probably wouldn’t get it.
It concerns me because I hate to see my generation gobbled up so obediently by the previous one, taught to believe all the falsehoods that they themselves chose to believe. This leaves the hope in the hands of the next generation but it is too often an empty one, as I see them misunderstanding so much as well.
After all, what’s the point of our justice system? Is it to help bring people back to a point of understanding, so that they don’t repeat the same mistakes they once made? Because if that’s the case, death penalties for children and the forcible removing of hands is going the wrong way. On the other hand, take or leave the pun as you will, if the point is to eliminate those who offend us, then we should all form a line and get ready for a bullet to the head.
Laws are not established in order to provide us entertainment, so we can watch our government murder and maim. A more perfect society is not formed when we greet misdeeds with hate. The fact that nobody is perfect too often eludes even the best of us and it is the expectation that everyone should always be at their best that shows our petty, small selves and creates a society that is no more than a reflection of what we make of it.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Late night decisions…
Yikes. It’s 4am. I’ve been up since 11pm, got about an hour of sleep. Nice, huh?
Uncharacteristic of me, I think I’ve decided to go against my better judgment. You’ll see what I mean in a minute.
I have to be honest. The book on ethics hasn’t been going very quickly. It’s actually very difficult. And I’ve been struggling with that as much as I’ve been struggling with the subject matter. And I’ve come to a conclusion. I realized that, for as much as I want to write this book, I’m under far too much stress to really focus on it right now.
My life is an awfully shitty mess. And I realized that what I really need is an escape. I need some fun! And being cooped up in this house with no job interviews and not enough money to pay for WoW isn’t fun.
So, early this morning, I consciously put aside my book on ethics. This isn’t to say I won’t write it. I will. Just not now. This is kind of like not running marathons when you have pneumonia. No, what I decided to do this morning was to ask myself, “Well, self, what do you want to do right now?’
Almost as soon as I asked it, I realized what it was – and as cheap as it might sound, especially when compared to a book on ethics, I decided I want to write another comedy. Of course, I do! It’s fun! It’s a treat! And it’s a great way to escape! Jokes and gags starting pouring out of me and I’ve been up most of the morning jotting them down.
The new play already has a working title, Diamonds Are For Thursday; it’s a comedic mystery in the Marx Brother’s tradition about a jewel heist. This is a huge leap for me and should be a blast.
I’ll keep you posted.
I guess the takeaway here is that if you’re fighting something, if you’re under a lot of stress already, maybe it’s a good thing to give yourself a break. At least, I hope so.
Uncharacteristic of me, I think I’ve decided to go against my better judgment. You’ll see what I mean in a minute.
I have to be honest. The book on ethics hasn’t been going very quickly. It’s actually very difficult. And I’ve been struggling with that as much as I’ve been struggling with the subject matter. And I’ve come to a conclusion. I realized that, for as much as I want to write this book, I’m under far too much stress to really focus on it right now.
My life is an awfully shitty mess. And I realized that what I really need is an escape. I need some fun! And being cooped up in this house with no job interviews and not enough money to pay for WoW isn’t fun.
So, early this morning, I consciously put aside my book on ethics. This isn’t to say I won’t write it. I will. Just not now. This is kind of like not running marathons when you have pneumonia. No, what I decided to do this morning was to ask myself, “Well, self, what do you want to do right now?’
Almost as soon as I asked it, I realized what it was – and as cheap as it might sound, especially when compared to a book on ethics, I decided I want to write another comedy. Of course, I do! It’s fun! It’s a treat! And it’s a great way to escape! Jokes and gags starting pouring out of me and I’ve been up most of the morning jotting them down.
The new play already has a working title, Diamonds Are For Thursday; it’s a comedic mystery in the Marx Brother’s tradition about a jewel heist. This is a huge leap for me and should be a blast.
I’ll keep you posted.
I guess the takeaway here is that if you’re fighting something, if you’re under a lot of stress already, maybe it’s a good thing to give yourself a break. At least, I hope so.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Submit or be mitted…
I’m in month number… well, wait a minute… Vicky would say it’s the eighth month and I’d say it’s the ninth month… but just saying that means Vicky would probably say it’s actually only the seventh month… anyway, I’ve been unemployed now since the end of January, a pretty damn long time…
But I’m not going to write about that.
See, the thing is I’ve been looking high and low for a job but that’s not all I’ve been doing. I’ve also been working like a dog to get my books and plays out in front of people – you know, agents and publishers – in the hopes that I might be able to get something moving there. I’ve had no luck, yet. And, yes, sometimes like today I get disheartened.
But then I think about this website I saw a few days back. I wish I’d saved it so I could share it with you. The writer talks about how he just sold his first book and he provides a chart of all the submissions he’s done, sending his book out to agents and publishers and what have you… The final tally was over 500. Can you imagine? If he sent out one each week, that would have taken ten years! And that’s not always easy, let me tell you. Some weeks you find two or three places to send stuff but others you come up dry. That must have taken an awfully long time with a great deal of effort.
So, that got me to thinking. How many submissions have I done?
Take my book No More Blue Roses, for instance. That’s gone out to only about 112 agents and publishers, only about one fifth! How about With Eyes to See? Only 98 or so! Wormfood, a horror novel that has seen some of the most strident rejections, has only been rejected about 49 times! And Climbing Maya, which I’ve been faithfully plugging more than any other book, has only been rejected 264 times!
So, what’s my point? Well, on a day when I feel just about as down in the dumps as you can get I figured it would be good to remind myself that this isn’t a sprint and I’ve only started. Heck, I’m 43 years old. I’ve been writing seriously for over 20 years now. I’m proud of what I’ve done and this kind of rejection is no reason to lose heart. Because others have been here before me.
It’s time for me to keep going and not give up. I hope you do, too. They say anything worth it is, well, worth it. I hope we both find out… and soon!
But I’m not going to write about that.
See, the thing is I’ve been looking high and low for a job but that’s not all I’ve been doing. I’ve also been working like a dog to get my books and plays out in front of people – you know, agents and publishers – in the hopes that I might be able to get something moving there. I’ve had no luck, yet. And, yes, sometimes like today I get disheartened.
But then I think about this website I saw a few days back. I wish I’d saved it so I could share it with you. The writer talks about how he just sold his first book and he provides a chart of all the submissions he’s done, sending his book out to agents and publishers and what have you… The final tally was over 500. Can you imagine? If he sent out one each week, that would have taken ten years! And that’s not always easy, let me tell you. Some weeks you find two or three places to send stuff but others you come up dry. That must have taken an awfully long time with a great deal of effort.
So, that got me to thinking. How many submissions have I done?
Take my book No More Blue Roses, for instance. That’s gone out to only about 112 agents and publishers, only about one fifth! How about With Eyes to See? Only 98 or so! Wormfood, a horror novel that has seen some of the most strident rejections, has only been rejected about 49 times! And Climbing Maya, which I’ve been faithfully plugging more than any other book, has only been rejected 264 times!
So, what’s my point? Well, on a day when I feel just about as down in the dumps as you can get I figured it would be good to remind myself that this isn’t a sprint and I’ve only started. Heck, I’m 43 years old. I’ve been writing seriously for over 20 years now. I’m proud of what I’ve done and this kind of rejection is no reason to lose heart. Because others have been here before me.
It’s time for me to keep going and not give up. I hope you do, too. They say anything worth it is, well, worth it. I hope we both find out… and soon!
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Dynamic Pluralism… the rough cut…
Actually, I wish I was so far along that I could say I had completed the rough cut (or first draft) of Dynamic Pluralism. As it stands, I only finished the rough cut/first draft of the outline. One page of text… very little text… ugh…
The thing is, I’ve spent most of the past few weeks just making sure I had a reason for writing it to begin with. How silly I would seem if I was saying something that’s been acknowledged for years now or – just as bad – saying something any respectable philosopher would laugh out of the room. Clearly, the idea should be in the mainstream somewhere, maybe move it down the hill a bit.
Dr. Crippen at Cal State Fullerton turned me on to John Dewey as a starting point. Dewey actually comes very close to my idea but never goes all the way. While he says we cannot use set rules of ethics from the past because times simply change too much, just like me, he says the best way to move forward is to constantly analyze our motives and our ethical systems. But he is still keeping it internal and individualistic. The rest of the early-20th century Pragmatists are far worse, saying it’s impossible to establish any law at all.
The come close to Dynamic Pluralism but miss the key part: talking.
… I know. Not exactly revolutionary. But that’s okay. It doesn’t have to be. Dynamic Pluralism takes the dilemma established by the Pragmatists, that we can’t use outdated ethical systems, and provides hope for a new way. It doesn’t sound that impressive to say, “You should talk,” but it actually is, in a way, because nobody else has so far!
And so, I’ve written a single page of text, telling myself how to proceed with the book. It starts with the Introduction I’ve mentioned before and then heads into the different ethical systems laid out thus far. Early systems told us what was good – honor, truth, what have you – I call it the “I like pickles” idea – but that doesn’t help because everyone’s idea is different. That moved into Teleological systems: Utilitarianism. These said that maximizing the utility or the good – getting a good outcome – is what you want, but that just created an inherently selfish system. And that’s not ethical. Then, Kant came in with a non-consequential, Deontological system. And that put action over outcome. In other words, behave ethically and you will be ethical. Again, the problem lies in its individualistic roots – I could think I’m totally ethical as I brutally torture someone. (And hello to you, Mr. Cheney.)
Is it any wonder the Pragmatists thought it was hopeless? Well, maybe not. I just need to find the gumption to actually write the damn thing…
The thing is, I’ve spent most of the past few weeks just making sure I had a reason for writing it to begin with. How silly I would seem if I was saying something that’s been acknowledged for years now or – just as bad – saying something any respectable philosopher would laugh out of the room. Clearly, the idea should be in the mainstream somewhere, maybe move it down the hill a bit.
Dr. Crippen at Cal State Fullerton turned me on to John Dewey as a starting point. Dewey actually comes very close to my idea but never goes all the way. While he says we cannot use set rules of ethics from the past because times simply change too much, just like me, he says the best way to move forward is to constantly analyze our motives and our ethical systems. But he is still keeping it internal and individualistic. The rest of the early-20th century Pragmatists are far worse, saying it’s impossible to establish any law at all.
The come close to Dynamic Pluralism but miss the key part: talking.
… I know. Not exactly revolutionary. But that’s okay. It doesn’t have to be. Dynamic Pluralism takes the dilemma established by the Pragmatists, that we can’t use outdated ethical systems, and provides hope for a new way. It doesn’t sound that impressive to say, “You should talk,” but it actually is, in a way, because nobody else has so far!
And so, I’ve written a single page of text, telling myself how to proceed with the book. It starts with the Introduction I’ve mentioned before and then heads into the different ethical systems laid out thus far. Early systems told us what was good – honor, truth, what have you – I call it the “I like pickles” idea – but that doesn’t help because everyone’s idea is different. That moved into Teleological systems: Utilitarianism. These said that maximizing the utility or the good – getting a good outcome – is what you want, but that just created an inherently selfish system. And that’s not ethical. Then, Kant came in with a non-consequential, Deontological system. And that put action over outcome. In other words, behave ethically and you will be ethical. Again, the problem lies in its individualistic roots – I could think I’m totally ethical as I brutally torture someone. (And hello to you, Mr. Cheney.)
Is it any wonder the Pragmatists thought it was hopeless? Well, maybe not. I just need to find the gumption to actually write the damn thing…
Monday, August 31, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
And they said the cynic was dead…
So, I’m sitting here in the aftermath of a bit too much plum wine… that’s my excuse…
Vicky and I were watching Mad About You on DVD, which is always a bit odd for me because that was a show I watched with my ex back when it aired in the 90’s. So, we’re watching and Vicky pauses and asks me a question, which in itself isn’t odd except I remember my ex asking the same question – oh those many years ago.
And my answer is something along the lines of “The universe is one great big joke.” After all, the first time I watched this and was asked, my ex and I were still going through those sickeningly cute years. Actually, we spent about 10 of our years together sickeningly cute… with 5 spent in total fucking hate – there was no middle of the road. The lessen, or so it seemed to me at least, was that all relationships are doomed and that is life’s joke on us all.
Vicky and I spent about 20 minutes in the sickeningly cute stage and I can’t help but think, “What chance do we have?” And I think I spend a little bit too much time doubting our love, waiting for the end – which is kind of like waiting for the end of a rollercoaster: you’re missing the fun!
I say this in the message in a bottle kind of way: I know all relationships are doomed, either your split up or you die, but you should try to enjoy the ride anyway… even if I’m not that great at it…
Vicky and I were watching Mad About You on DVD, which is always a bit odd for me because that was a show I watched with my ex back when it aired in the 90’s. So, we’re watching and Vicky pauses and asks me a question, which in itself isn’t odd except I remember my ex asking the same question – oh those many years ago.
And my answer is something along the lines of “The universe is one great big joke.” After all, the first time I watched this and was asked, my ex and I were still going through those sickeningly cute years. Actually, we spent about 10 of our years together sickeningly cute… with 5 spent in total fucking hate – there was no middle of the road. The lessen, or so it seemed to me at least, was that all relationships are doomed and that is life’s joke on us all.
Vicky and I spent about 20 minutes in the sickeningly cute stage and I can’t help but think, “What chance do we have?” And I think I spend a little bit too much time doubting our love, waiting for the end – which is kind of like waiting for the end of a rollercoaster: you’re missing the fun!
I say this in the message in a bottle kind of way: I know all relationships are doomed, either your split up or you die, but you should try to enjoy the ride anyway… even if I’m not that great at it…
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Finding that job…
A visit to CareerBuilder is basically just a sincere request to get pissed on. Seriously. And I don’t even know why I go there any more – oh, wait. I remember. Because Monster.com shits on you instead. And I’m desperate for a job. And nobody’s there to fucking help.
You’re probably wondering what I’m talking about. So, I’ll give you some examples.
According to CB, there have been seven new positions for “Writers” posted in the past seven days within 20 miles of my home. Oh wait, these are the same jobs that have been there since May. These jobs were probably filled months ago; I know that’s when I applied for some of them. Why haven’t I applied for all of them? Well, because some putz at CB thought “writer” also meant , “Movie Extra”, “Software Engineer”, “Senior Accountant”, “Medical System Consultant”, etc. Out of 30 positions, only one was for a writer.
It gets worse. When I look for a positions as a “Marketing Coordinator” (last seven days, within 20 miles), I find 144 new positions! Wow! That’s a lot… if I was a “Graphic Designer” or a “Retail Marketing Leader”. What is that? A “Retail Marketing Leader”? About 100 of the postings are for “Marketing Leaders” of one kind or another (and they all, miraculously, pay $125,000!!!) and they all go to a placement agency. I’m finding this more and more typical. Placement agencies get paid for placing people and don’t give a shit if they con you in with these made up titles, wild promises, etc. They just want warm bodies. “Look,” they say. “We’ve got thousands of potential employees!” All of whom waste their time begging for work and not getting any because there’s no such thing as a “Retail Marketing Leader” position. Aside from those, there are postings for “Movie Extras”, “AVON Sales Representatives”, “Pharmacy Techs”, and on and on. Actually, no “Marketing Coordinator” positions at all.
This same thing happens when I search under other titles. The thing is, there just aren’t a whole lot of jobs out there, so CB cross-posts many of them into areas that have nothing to do with what you want. Their “Marketing Manager” search gives me nursing positions for fucks sake!
And, so, there I am. Pisses on and I asked for it. But I’m desperate. I need a job.
You’re probably wondering what I’m talking about. So, I’ll give you some examples.
According to CB, there have been seven new positions for “Writers” posted in the past seven days within 20 miles of my home. Oh wait, these are the same jobs that have been there since May. These jobs were probably filled months ago; I know that’s when I applied for some of them. Why haven’t I applied for all of them? Well, because some putz at CB thought “writer” also meant , “Movie Extra”, “Software Engineer”, “Senior Accountant”, “Medical System Consultant”, etc. Out of 30 positions, only one was for a writer.
It gets worse. When I look for a positions as a “Marketing Coordinator” (last seven days, within 20 miles), I find 144 new positions! Wow! That’s a lot… if I was a “Graphic Designer” or a “Retail Marketing Leader”. What is that? A “Retail Marketing Leader”? About 100 of the postings are for “Marketing Leaders” of one kind or another (and they all, miraculously, pay $125,000!!!) and they all go to a placement agency. I’m finding this more and more typical. Placement agencies get paid for placing people and don’t give a shit if they con you in with these made up titles, wild promises, etc. They just want warm bodies. “Look,” they say. “We’ve got thousands of potential employees!” All of whom waste their time begging for work and not getting any because there’s no such thing as a “Retail Marketing Leader” position. Aside from those, there are postings for “Movie Extras”, “AVON Sales Representatives”, “Pharmacy Techs”, and on and on. Actually, no “Marketing Coordinator” positions at all.
This same thing happens when I search under other titles. The thing is, there just aren’t a whole lot of jobs out there, so CB cross-posts many of them into areas that have nothing to do with what you want. Their “Marketing Manager” search gives me nursing positions for fucks sake!
And, so, there I am. Pisses on and I asked for it. But I’m desperate. I need a job.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Turned down for another job…
I’ve decided that a blog is a good place for depressing news. Facebook is too cute and Twitter’s too short. That’s leaves here. Sorry.
So, as the subject line says, I got turned down again. And the longer I’m out of work, the more it hurts when I get passed up. Hey, I know there are hundreds of thousands of others out there – probably applying for the same job – but this position seemed to be right up my alley. The interview was good. It felt right.
Things started to go wrong, though, with the Thank You letters. I sent them out, using the addresses provided on the business cards of those I interviewed with, and got them back a week later marked “Undeliverable.” The fuck? So, I had to improvise an email, which probably didn’t look great. And today I received a short, form email from HR… it’s just devastating.
Like so many other Americans, I really want to work. I’m sick of being on unemployment insurance. I want to contribute something.
So, I’m going to spend the weekend depressed. I gave up smoking and pretty much gave up drinking… let’s hope I don’t find myself face-down in a half-gallon of ice cream…
So, as the subject line says, I got turned down again. And the longer I’m out of work, the more it hurts when I get passed up. Hey, I know there are hundreds of thousands of others out there – probably applying for the same job – but this position seemed to be right up my alley. The interview was good. It felt right.
Things started to go wrong, though, with the Thank You letters. I sent them out, using the addresses provided on the business cards of those I interviewed with, and got them back a week later marked “Undeliverable.” The fuck? So, I had to improvise an email, which probably didn’t look great. And today I received a short, form email from HR… it’s just devastating.
Like so many other Americans, I really want to work. I’m sick of being on unemployment insurance. I want to contribute something.
So, I’m going to spend the weekend depressed. I gave up smoking and pretty much gave up drinking… let’s hope I don’t find myself face-down in a half-gallon of ice cream…
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Pre-ride thoughts…
So, it’s 7:15am and 62 degrees (f) outside. That’s just too blasted cold for my liking.
You know, this has been a pretty fucked up summer on the left coast, weatherwise. It’s been far too cool in the south and far too hot in the north. You want to talk about whacked weather patterns, harbingers of climate change? We might be able to start there. A little coolness in the south is one thing and a little heat in the north is another – but a lot of both? I don't like the way that trends.
Last summer, I could go on rides at 5am and it was already in the 70’s. Now, I’m bundling up. Either we’re going to be hit hard by the heat and have a scorching Christmas or it’s going to be far too cold down here. One way or another, it’ll fuck with the growing seasons and with migrations and all kinds of other shit, just like the heat is doing up north.
It’s not good.
As for me, I’m waiting until the temp rises above 65 (f) so I can go out on my ride without freezing my ass off…
You know, this has been a pretty fucked up summer on the left coast, weatherwise. It’s been far too cool in the south and far too hot in the north. You want to talk about whacked weather patterns, harbingers of climate change? We might be able to start there. A little coolness in the south is one thing and a little heat in the north is another – but a lot of both? I don't like the way that trends.
Last summer, I could go on rides at 5am and it was already in the 70’s. Now, I’m bundling up. Either we’re going to be hit hard by the heat and have a scorching Christmas or it’s going to be far too cold down here. One way or another, it’ll fuck with the growing seasons and with migrations and all kinds of other shit, just like the heat is doing up north.
It’s not good.
As for me, I’m waiting until the temp rises above 65 (f) so I can go out on my ride without freezing my ass off…
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Jogging more than my memory…
So, I’ve started jogging again. This might sound like nothing but it's a huge deal for me. Back in high school, before I started smoking, I was a very good runner for the track team and I loved running. Then, of course, I started smoking, got hit by a car, jumped off a three-story building, got shin splints… and so on…
I’d done some jogging on the treadmill at the gym but, really, that’s not jogging. That’s jogging on the treadmill and anyone who has done both knows the difference is like that between ginger ale and gin. After I quit smoking a year and a half ago (yes, it’s been that long!), I hoped I might jog again someday.
So, several weeks ago… beginning of summer, really… I tried it out. All I got was pain. And lots of it. And this was from a mile – maybe! See, I was jogging up to the Santa Ana River so I could jog on the river because I knew my legs were going to hurt as a result of jogging on asphalt, concrete, pretty much anything. Vicky suggested I walk up to the river trail and that helped a bit but I spent week after week in just the worst kind of pain, limping back home. It was awful.
But then, slower that you can imagine, things got better. My legs started to let up a little and get used to it. I did a mile, then two. The other night, I jogged nearly five miles! I’m far from cool. I look like an old man out there and I know it! But doing it, actually jogging again, feels great.
Oh, and there’s more. Once I started getting used to it, I picked up a couple of three pound running weights to help me tone up a bit while I’m at it – cause I’m an idiot. That just brought on more pain, but I’m getting used to it.
I try to keep in mind what Peter O’Toole said in Lawrence: The secret is not minding that it hurts.
I’d done some jogging on the treadmill at the gym but, really, that’s not jogging. That’s jogging on the treadmill and anyone who has done both knows the difference is like that between ginger ale and gin. After I quit smoking a year and a half ago (yes, it’s been that long!), I hoped I might jog again someday.
So, several weeks ago… beginning of summer, really… I tried it out. All I got was pain. And lots of it. And this was from a mile – maybe! See, I was jogging up to the Santa Ana River so I could jog on the river because I knew my legs were going to hurt as a result of jogging on asphalt, concrete, pretty much anything. Vicky suggested I walk up to the river trail and that helped a bit but I spent week after week in just the worst kind of pain, limping back home. It was awful.
But then, slower that you can imagine, things got better. My legs started to let up a little and get used to it. I did a mile, then two. The other night, I jogged nearly five miles! I’m far from cool. I look like an old man out there and I know it! But doing it, actually jogging again, feels great.
Oh, and there’s more. Once I started getting used to it, I picked up a couple of three pound running weights to help me tone up a bit while I’m at it – cause I’m an idiot. That just brought on more pain, but I’m getting used to it.
I try to keep in mind what Peter O’Toole said in Lawrence: The secret is not minding that it hurts.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
New Play, New Book, Same Old Ken…
Suppose you and your wife went to another couple’s house for dinner. And suppose the husband suggested you should both kill each other’s wife, switching victims like in Hitchcock’s Strangers on a Train (or Throw Mama From The Train, if you're so inclined). Suppose before you had a chance to say, “NO,” he already pulled out a gun and shot and killed your wife and suppose when he realized his mistake, he tried to raise her from the dead only to raise a zombie, which then had to be put down with multiple shotgun shots. Now, suppose that he invited the devil over to fix all this but you find yourself suspected of the murder.
This is the very twisted premise – or are the twisted premises – of my new play, Murder, Zombies, the Devil… and Stuff, which I finished this week. It is a very dark comedy mixed with a murder mystery mixed with a farce. I can’t wait until people see it; it should be a lot of fun.
And that does it for me and plays for a while. After all, since last autumn, I’ve written five new, full-length plays. From farce (Murielle’s Big Date) to drama (Meaning), from plays about marriage (After You Fall) to plays about family (Sometimes We Find Our Way)… and now dark murder mystery farces, I’ve done it all! Time to work on marketing them! After all, along with my first three plays, that makes eight total, which I figure is enough. (Sorry… couldn’t help it…)
Anyway, the time has come for my next book on philosophy. This is an idea that has been noodling around in my noggin for a while but once I confirmed with one of my professors that it was actually something new, a different direction in ethics, I’ve been just itching to start it. Unlike Climbing Maya, this would actually be my first scholarly writing. (I’m hesitant to use the term “scholarly”, for fear people may think I consider myself a scholar.) Mostly importantly, though, it has the potential to change our understanding of ethics completely.
So, what is it? Well, right now, I’m calling it Dynamic Pluralism. (Yes, I’m putting it right here in my blog to lay claim to the idea.) Simply, ethical systems have historically been individualistic, addressing ethics only in terms of one person: you. But it seems clear to me that ethics always depend on the interactions of multiple individuals, which always change from situation to situation. And there’s the whole book in two sentences – so you can be sure there will be more than that.
What’s most exciting right now, is the book’s opening. I won’t even be able to write it for at least a couple of months. After all, I have a great deal of research that needs to be done, yet. But the opening it crystal clear in my head, just waiting to be written. It came about, quite by accident, as the result of a comment my friend Tim, from Washington, made. He said, “well now the way I see it, it is my morals that allow me to look at myself in the mirror. Where ethics are what the group deems correct at that moment. Yeah?” This got me thinking about the difference between morals and ethics. Shouldn't ethics allow you to look yourself in the mirror? These two terms have, traditionally, always been confused and interchanged because they both address how a person should behave but, to my mind, come from clearly different sources. We talk about morals in terms of religion: morality plays and finding morality in the Bible. Morality comes from the term mores, which are supported by religions and customs, and come with a strict punishment. Ethics come from ethos, which does not carry as strict a code in religion or customs. Ethics have, a I mentioned, been left to the individual. This can get rather confusing but watch what happens…
Morality is taught to us by whom? By ministers, preachers, and pastors. By mothers, fathers, and other family members. They are taught, then, by individuals. Tim observed that “ethics are what the group deems correct at the moment” but when you consider that morality is based on an individual’s interpretation of religion or custom, it too becomes what the group deems correct at the moment, as well. This shows that both ethics and morals are subject to the capricious nature of time and culture and individual whim. What may be a moral sin one day, Thou Shalt Not Kill, may turn into a caution the next, Thou Shalt Not Murder, and it’s all open for individual interpretation.
The deeper I delve, the more I realize an ethical system that comprehends all of this, takes this all into consideration, is necessary for our new century. Thus the name: Dynamic Pluralism, Ethics for a 21st Century World.
Anyway, I gotta do something with all this free time, right? And, I guess that's how you go from Murder to Ethics in two easy steps - ha, ha, ha...
This is the very twisted premise – or are the twisted premises – of my new play, Murder, Zombies, the Devil… and Stuff, which I finished this week. It is a very dark comedy mixed with a murder mystery mixed with a farce. I can’t wait until people see it; it should be a lot of fun.
And that does it for me and plays for a while. After all, since last autumn, I’ve written five new, full-length plays. From farce (Murielle’s Big Date) to drama (Meaning), from plays about marriage (After You Fall) to plays about family (Sometimes We Find Our Way)… and now dark murder mystery farces, I’ve done it all! Time to work on marketing them! After all, along with my first three plays, that makes eight total, which I figure is enough. (Sorry… couldn’t help it…)
Anyway, the time has come for my next book on philosophy. This is an idea that has been noodling around in my noggin for a while but once I confirmed with one of my professors that it was actually something new, a different direction in ethics, I’ve been just itching to start it. Unlike Climbing Maya, this would actually be my first scholarly writing. (I’m hesitant to use the term “scholarly”, for fear people may think I consider myself a scholar.) Mostly importantly, though, it has the potential to change our understanding of ethics completely.
So, what is it? Well, right now, I’m calling it Dynamic Pluralism. (Yes, I’m putting it right here in my blog to lay claim to the idea.) Simply, ethical systems have historically been individualistic, addressing ethics only in terms of one person: you. But it seems clear to me that ethics always depend on the interactions of multiple individuals, which always change from situation to situation. And there’s the whole book in two sentences – so you can be sure there will be more than that.
What’s most exciting right now, is the book’s opening. I won’t even be able to write it for at least a couple of months. After all, I have a great deal of research that needs to be done, yet. But the opening it crystal clear in my head, just waiting to be written. It came about, quite by accident, as the result of a comment my friend Tim, from Washington, made. He said, “well now the way I see it, it is my morals that allow me to look at myself in the mirror. Where ethics are what the group deems correct at that moment. Yeah?” This got me thinking about the difference between morals and ethics. Shouldn't ethics allow you to look yourself in the mirror? These two terms have, traditionally, always been confused and interchanged because they both address how a person should behave but, to my mind, come from clearly different sources. We talk about morals in terms of religion: morality plays and finding morality in the Bible. Morality comes from the term mores, which are supported by religions and customs, and come with a strict punishment. Ethics come from ethos, which does not carry as strict a code in religion or customs. Ethics have, a I mentioned, been left to the individual. This can get rather confusing but watch what happens…
Morality is taught to us by whom? By ministers, preachers, and pastors. By mothers, fathers, and other family members. They are taught, then, by individuals. Tim observed that “ethics are what the group deems correct at the moment” but when you consider that morality is based on an individual’s interpretation of religion or custom, it too becomes what the group deems correct at the moment, as well. This shows that both ethics and morals are subject to the capricious nature of time and culture and individual whim. What may be a moral sin one day, Thou Shalt Not Kill, may turn into a caution the next, Thou Shalt Not Murder, and it’s all open for individual interpretation.
The deeper I delve, the more I realize an ethical system that comprehends all of this, takes this all into consideration, is necessary for our new century. Thus the name: Dynamic Pluralism, Ethics for a 21st Century World.
Anyway, I gotta do something with all this free time, right? And, I guess that's how you go from Murder to Ethics in two easy steps - ha, ha, ha...
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Glass houses… and not the Billy Joel album…
I was walking my dog tonight and heard a kid screaming several houses away. It wasn’t a scary scream or a scream for help, just a kid screaming his/her head off. For just a split second, I began to wonder what the hell was going on and why nobody shut the kid up… for just a split second…
And then, I remembered being four or five years old… and having screaming contests in my front yard…
It will probably come as no surprise that I could scream the loudest…
And then, I remembered being four or five years old… and having screaming contests in my front yard…
It will probably come as no surprise that I could scream the loudest…
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Town Hall Protesters: Ruining it for everyone…
I’m going to assume you’ve heard all about the right-wingnuts who have been crashing the recent town halls held to help educate people on health care reform and get constructive feedback. They’ve not only been shouting to drown out the discourse but now they’re bringing guns. And corporate America is learning from this strategy and have announced they’ll use it to defeat any hope of finally cleaning up the environment we’ve shit all over.
The one thing this all pivots on, of course, is the town hall format, allowing anyone to come in and attend your event, getting their feedback, letting the common man be heard. What we’ve seen is that corporate America and the Repugs don’t give a shit about the common man and only care enough to manipulate them into a lather. They’re good at this because they have no respect for anything.
The town hall format is relatively new in its present incarnation. While it pre-dates the TV culture (and easily pre-dates the Internet), it wasn’t designed for instant media and this is its weakness. Mind you, Shrub and his ilk never used the format because they were afraid of just what they’ve faked. They were terrified that regular people would have a voice. Now, they’ve constructed these “grass roots” protests, funded by corporations who would rather make billions off the backs of the sick or the poor or just plain anyone.
So, what can be done? Certainly segregating the audience is not a good idea. That’s just what Shrub and his ilk did. No, I think the only thing that can be done is to abandon the town hall all together. Use the Internet for good just as the corporations and the Repugs are using it for ill. Don’t allow the powerful to sabotage everything just because they have power.
Oh, and Dems, grow a fucking spine, why don’t you?
The one thing this all pivots on, of course, is the town hall format, allowing anyone to come in and attend your event, getting their feedback, letting the common man be heard. What we’ve seen is that corporate America and the Repugs don’t give a shit about the common man and only care enough to manipulate them into a lather. They’re good at this because they have no respect for anything.
The town hall format is relatively new in its present incarnation. While it pre-dates the TV culture (and easily pre-dates the Internet), it wasn’t designed for instant media and this is its weakness. Mind you, Shrub and his ilk never used the format because they were afraid of just what they’ve faked. They were terrified that regular people would have a voice. Now, they’ve constructed these “grass roots” protests, funded by corporations who would rather make billions off the backs of the sick or the poor or just plain anyone.
So, what can be done? Certainly segregating the audience is not a good idea. That’s just what Shrub and his ilk did. No, I think the only thing that can be done is to abandon the town hall all together. Use the Internet for good just as the corporations and the Repugs are using it for ill. Don’t allow the powerful to sabotage everything just because they have power.
Oh, and Dems, grow a fucking spine, why don’t you?
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
K is for Maso…
You might call me Ken. You might call me Masochist. Either way…
See, I screwed up my legs when I was younger. Before then, I could run and run and run – I loved to run. But after jumping off a three-story building and getting hit by a car and getting shin splints and generally thinking I was indestructible… well… let’s just say I wasn’t running any more.
But then, I found I could run on a treadmill. That was nice. But I hate having to drive somewhere to run – that’s just stupid.
Recently, I took up running on the river trail using the theory that if I ran on dirt it would cushion my legs the way the treadmill did. It’s taken several months for that to prove correct, several months of serious motherfucking pain. No fun. But I was running (well, jogging) again, and that was nice.
So, because I’m an idiot, I decided to add some weights to the routine. You know, really add some pain back in the mix. What I didn’t realize was that adding weights – just two 3-pound weights, mind you – wouldn’t hurt my arms as much as they would hurt my legs. Now, it’s like starting all over again and every jog is painful.
What the hell is wrong with me? Well, I’m fat and out of shape… there’s that…
Oh well. Such is the price I pay, right? All the same, I wish I’d added two 3-pound weights of ice cream…
See, I screwed up my legs when I was younger. Before then, I could run and run and run – I loved to run. But after jumping off a three-story building and getting hit by a car and getting shin splints and generally thinking I was indestructible… well… let’s just say I wasn’t running any more.
But then, I found I could run on a treadmill. That was nice. But I hate having to drive somewhere to run – that’s just stupid.
Recently, I took up running on the river trail using the theory that if I ran on dirt it would cushion my legs the way the treadmill did. It’s taken several months for that to prove correct, several months of serious motherfucking pain. No fun. But I was running (well, jogging) again, and that was nice.
So, because I’m an idiot, I decided to add some weights to the routine. You know, really add some pain back in the mix. What I didn’t realize was that adding weights – just two 3-pound weights, mind you – wouldn’t hurt my arms as much as they would hurt my legs. Now, it’s like starting all over again and every jog is painful.
What the hell is wrong with me? Well, I’m fat and out of shape… there’s that…
Oh well. Such is the price I pay, right? All the same, I wish I’d added two 3-pound weights of ice cream…
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Continuing my great acting career…
I have some news for you, which I found out last night. People say “The worse they can do is say No.” They’re wrong. There is worse and it pissed me off.
I went to a theater in Newport Beach last night to audition for Social Security, a farce I’d seen produced at Long Beach Playhouse once upon a time. My friend, Annie, had been in it and it had been performed with subtlety and class. I really enjoyed the show and was eager to audition.
There are, essentially, two parts for a male my age. David is a suave, New York art dealer. Martin is his nebbish brother in law. My ego told me to audition for David, and I did. I filled out the audition form: Part you’re auditioning for – David. Would you accept any other role – NO. I was extra intense when filling in the NO box. See, I’m too tall to be nebbishy. You’ve got to think about who you’d be acting against. I’d have to work off of someone taller than me and someone with a smoother style than me – I’m not saying I’m smooth but, as an actor, it’s important that I feel that in order to play the underling. As I said, it’s mostly ego. It’s also, I think, because I don’t see myself as a nebbish. I don’t want to spend ten weeks of my life doing that. So, there you are.
I began reading opposite this guy with a goatee and a great sense of timing. He had a great New York accent – mine came across more like a Boston Jew – and I knew this was the guy. It was obvious. I figured, “Okay, they should just let me go home.” They didn’t, though. The director started having me read as Martin. Now, I knew she had to have seen my audition sheet so I figured: a) she needs guys to read for Martin so I’ll help her out, and b) she may just be testing me to see how easy I am to work with. So, I read as best I could. But then, this other guy, a short, balding guy who sounded just like Richard Dreyfus, read for Martin and I figured that was it. “Okay, they should just let me go home.”
But they didn’t. And the evening grew later and later.
About a half hour before we finished, this actor came in that I knew from other shows. He’s a big, fat, balding guy who can’t pull off an accent and couldn’t act his way out of a used condom. This guy they had reading for the part of David. He read horribly and didn’t even try to pull off an accent. I was shocked! I thought, “You have perfect people for David and Martin already!” But I didn’t say anything. The director might have been being polite, give everyone their chance, etc. etc. etc.
Then, just after 9pm, the stage manager came out. She said, “I’m going to read a list of names. If I read your name, please stay. If I don’t, you can leave. This doesn’t mean you haven’t been cast, though. You might still be receiving a call.” She started reading off names. She read mine!
Great, I thought! And when the guy with the goatee left, I wondered, “Am I David?” Then, the guy who sounded like Richard Dreyfus left… and I wondered, “Am I… wait a minute…” Something was very wrong. And I realized the only two males were myself… and the big, fat, balding guy who can’t act. Now, call me egotistical… I’ll wait… but I did the math. Surely, I figured, they must have cast me as David because the thinner guy would be the more suave, yes? And surely, they couldn’t have cast me as Martin because I was taller than this asshole, right? But here’s the part of the equation I’ve left out: The asshole knew people. He was friends with the director and the woman who runs the theater, who was there at the audition. So, when we were called in to see the director, I was leery.
See, I would rather be in no show than a shit show. That’s just me. I would have much rather the director cast the two actors who were obviously better suited for either role. Because the asshole would suck in either role and I knew the guy with the goatee would have been far better than me.
I waited for the verdict. I knew the outcome if I was Martin. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I was David.
The director kept making jokes about how suspicious I looked. I wanted her to get to the point.
I didn’t have to wait long. The part of the suave New York art dealer was given to the fat, balding asshole who didn’t even attempt an accent. And I was to play his nebbish brother in law… me… who was taller, thinner, and had more hair than the guy who was supposed to be the suave one.
The director kept joking around but I walked right up to her. I felt bad, too, because my friend Tony was sitting next to her. He’d been laughing every time I delivered a funny line. I could imagine him when I was outside the room saying, “That Ken La Salle guy reads really well.” I regretted fouling up his support. But I put the script down in front of the director, gritted my teeth, and said, “I want you to know I appreciate your faith in me. Thank you very much. But I can’t take this role.”
She was shocked. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I really am. I appreciate the faith you have in me but I can’t take this role.”
She scoffed. Really. She scoffed. She said, “Have an open mind!”
I gritted my teeth further. I told her about the guy who sounded like Richard Dreyfus and how he was much better suited for the role, especially if they were going to cast the fat asshole. (Granted, I gave his name. I didn’t say “Richard Dreyfus”.) I thanked her again and I apologized again for not being able to take the part. I knew this would probably mean she’d never cast me again and that I’d probably be blacklisted at the theater, so I was as gracious as possible. “I’m sure you’ll have a great show. I’m sorry I can’t be a part of it. I’m going to go now.”
“What?” she shouted.
In the quietest voice I could muster, I replied, “I’m going to go.” And I left the room without another word.
Richard Dreyfus was outside. “What happened? Didn’t you get cast?”
“Let’s just say I’m not in the play. I hope you get a call though.”
They worse they can do is not just to say NO. They can say YES and put you in a pile of shit. This happened to me at D-Link. I’ve been there before. But I really pissed me off last night. After all, theaters produce the same rotten shows over and over and over – you’d think that, at the very least, they’d want to do it well.
I went to a theater in Newport Beach last night to audition for Social Security, a farce I’d seen produced at Long Beach Playhouse once upon a time. My friend, Annie, had been in it and it had been performed with subtlety and class. I really enjoyed the show and was eager to audition.
There are, essentially, two parts for a male my age. David is a suave, New York art dealer. Martin is his nebbish brother in law. My ego told me to audition for David, and I did. I filled out the audition form: Part you’re auditioning for – David. Would you accept any other role – NO. I was extra intense when filling in the NO box. See, I’m too tall to be nebbishy. You’ve got to think about who you’d be acting against. I’d have to work off of someone taller than me and someone with a smoother style than me – I’m not saying I’m smooth but, as an actor, it’s important that I feel that in order to play the underling. As I said, it’s mostly ego. It’s also, I think, because I don’t see myself as a nebbish. I don’t want to spend ten weeks of my life doing that. So, there you are.
I began reading opposite this guy with a goatee and a great sense of timing. He had a great New York accent – mine came across more like a Boston Jew – and I knew this was the guy. It was obvious. I figured, “Okay, they should just let me go home.” They didn’t, though. The director started having me read as Martin. Now, I knew she had to have seen my audition sheet so I figured: a) she needs guys to read for Martin so I’ll help her out, and b) she may just be testing me to see how easy I am to work with. So, I read as best I could. But then, this other guy, a short, balding guy who sounded just like Richard Dreyfus, read for Martin and I figured that was it. “Okay, they should just let me go home.”
But they didn’t. And the evening grew later and later.
About a half hour before we finished, this actor came in that I knew from other shows. He’s a big, fat, balding guy who can’t pull off an accent and couldn’t act his way out of a used condom. This guy they had reading for the part of David. He read horribly and didn’t even try to pull off an accent. I was shocked! I thought, “You have perfect people for David and Martin already!” But I didn’t say anything. The director might have been being polite, give everyone their chance, etc. etc. etc.
Then, just after 9pm, the stage manager came out. She said, “I’m going to read a list of names. If I read your name, please stay. If I don’t, you can leave. This doesn’t mean you haven’t been cast, though. You might still be receiving a call.” She started reading off names. She read mine!
Great, I thought! And when the guy with the goatee left, I wondered, “Am I David?” Then, the guy who sounded like Richard Dreyfus left… and I wondered, “Am I… wait a minute…” Something was very wrong. And I realized the only two males were myself… and the big, fat, balding guy who can’t act. Now, call me egotistical… I’ll wait… but I did the math. Surely, I figured, they must have cast me as David because the thinner guy would be the more suave, yes? And surely, they couldn’t have cast me as Martin because I was taller than this asshole, right? But here’s the part of the equation I’ve left out: The asshole knew people. He was friends with the director and the woman who runs the theater, who was there at the audition. So, when we were called in to see the director, I was leery.
See, I would rather be in no show than a shit show. That’s just me. I would have much rather the director cast the two actors who were obviously better suited for either role. Because the asshole would suck in either role and I knew the guy with the goatee would have been far better than me.
I waited for the verdict. I knew the outcome if I was Martin. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I was David.
The director kept making jokes about how suspicious I looked. I wanted her to get to the point.
I didn’t have to wait long. The part of the suave New York art dealer was given to the fat, balding asshole who didn’t even attempt an accent. And I was to play his nebbish brother in law… me… who was taller, thinner, and had more hair than the guy who was supposed to be the suave one.
The director kept joking around but I walked right up to her. I felt bad, too, because my friend Tony was sitting next to her. He’d been laughing every time I delivered a funny line. I could imagine him when I was outside the room saying, “That Ken La Salle guy reads really well.” I regretted fouling up his support. But I put the script down in front of the director, gritted my teeth, and said, “I want you to know I appreciate your faith in me. Thank you very much. But I can’t take this role.”
She was shocked. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I really am. I appreciate the faith you have in me but I can’t take this role.”
She scoffed. Really. She scoffed. She said, “Have an open mind!”
I gritted my teeth further. I told her about the guy who sounded like Richard Dreyfus and how he was much better suited for the role, especially if they were going to cast the fat asshole. (Granted, I gave his name. I didn’t say “Richard Dreyfus”.) I thanked her again and I apologized again for not being able to take the part. I knew this would probably mean she’d never cast me again and that I’d probably be blacklisted at the theater, so I was as gracious as possible. “I’m sure you’ll have a great show. I’m sorry I can’t be a part of it. I’m going to go now.”
“What?” she shouted.
In the quietest voice I could muster, I replied, “I’m going to go.” And I left the room without another word.
Richard Dreyfus was outside. “What happened? Didn’t you get cast?”
“Let’s just say I’m not in the play. I hope you get a call though.”
They worse they can do is not just to say NO. They can say YES and put you in a pile of shit. This happened to me at D-Link. I’ve been there before. But I really pissed me off last night. After all, theaters produce the same rotten shows over and over and over – you’d think that, at the very least, they’d want to do it well.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Submitting yourself…
Sometimes I wonder what people must think of my “writing career.” After having written 16 novels, 7 plays, and god only knows how much other stuff, even I tend to think “If you’re really that good, wouldn’t you have been published by now?” Of course, I haven’t been. All that work has only brought me rejection and disappointment.
And so, another week passes. In the past 7 days, I’ve send out 34 submissions. These are query letters for books or plays that go out to agencies, publishers, theaters – you name it. Vicky has been an incredible help getting some of these out through regular mail. Most of them go out via email. One way or the other, though, they end up in someone’s slush pile and all I can do is hope someone sees just one and finds it interesting enough to take a chance.
There have been a lot of near misses over the years, plenty of times when things have almost come together. And I can’t lie to you; I haven’t a clue as to what keeps me going.
It’s more than just a big depressing. Perhaps this is on my mind today because I’m also thinking of all the resumes I’ve been sending out for jobs – resumes that also fall into someone’s slush pile. My only option is to just keep trying and keep hoping and keep sticking with it. And I consider how much work I put into this with no reward, with no hope of success… and I’m pretty amazed.
To think of all the girls I never asked out because I was afraid of rejection. To think of all the auditions I’ve avoided because I was afraid of rejection. To think of all the things I haven’t done because I was afraid of rejection.
Who knew I was actually so good at rejection!
… oh well…
I know a few people who have the same dream as me, who have dreamed since they were young about becoming “a writer.” I’ve probably come closest to achieving that dream… which is kinda scary because my achievements have been fleeting at best.
But they’ve kept me going, still chasing that rabbit…
So, to all you folks still out there trying to make things happen – this goes to you. I’m with you.
And so, another week passes. In the past 7 days, I’ve send out 34 submissions. These are query letters for books or plays that go out to agencies, publishers, theaters – you name it. Vicky has been an incredible help getting some of these out through regular mail. Most of them go out via email. One way or the other, though, they end up in someone’s slush pile and all I can do is hope someone sees just one and finds it interesting enough to take a chance.
There have been a lot of near misses over the years, plenty of times when things have almost come together. And I can’t lie to you; I haven’t a clue as to what keeps me going.
It’s more than just a big depressing. Perhaps this is on my mind today because I’m also thinking of all the resumes I’ve been sending out for jobs – resumes that also fall into someone’s slush pile. My only option is to just keep trying and keep hoping and keep sticking with it. And I consider how much work I put into this with no reward, with no hope of success… and I’m pretty amazed.
To think of all the girls I never asked out because I was afraid of rejection. To think of all the auditions I’ve avoided because I was afraid of rejection. To think of all the things I haven’t done because I was afraid of rejection.
Who knew I was actually so good at rejection!
… oh well…
I know a few people who have the same dream as me, who have dreamed since they were young about becoming “a writer.” I’ve probably come closest to achieving that dream… which is kinda scary because my achievements have been fleeting at best.
But they’ve kept me going, still chasing that rabbit…
So, to all you folks still out there trying to make things happen – this goes to you. I’m with you.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Not smoking… really…
I woke up this morning from a dream in which I was standing out on the patio with Jeff, sharing a smoke.
Actually, I had my own cigarette and he had his. “Sharing a smoke” in this context just means we were sharing the experience. There we were, talking about this and that, enjoying the smooth tobacco flavor… and I woke up. And I could taste that acrid… wonderfully acrid taste of burnt refuse on my mouth.
That alone would be weird except it was the second night it happened. Night before last, the dream was about a killer who was leaving me bizarre clues as he hunted me down. In the midst of all of this, I was there with Jeff and used-to-be-Clostio. And they figured I needed to relax and distress and “Hey, would you like a cigarette?”
“Sure,” I told them. After all, there was this mad killer chasing me down. Who knew how much longer I’d live, right? I mean, the justification was entirely… justifiable!
Only, last night, there was no killer. No, Jeff and I were hanging out and I was telling him how I planned to quit smoking but it was just so difficult… as I lit another cigarette. And, once awake, I had to remind myself that it’s been over a year and a half since I quit, not just a few hours. But, lying there, with the familiar aroma of burnt Camel filter in my nose, it seemed as though I had just been out there… and the feeling was oh so good…
Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t spend the day thinking about buying a pack or anything, or even bumming one for old time’s sake. But it’s funny how much it holds on to you – even after all this time… but I don’t mind. I got all the enjoyment of smoking without any of the rotten side effects.
Actually, I had my own cigarette and he had his. “Sharing a smoke” in this context just means we were sharing the experience. There we were, talking about this and that, enjoying the smooth tobacco flavor… and I woke up. And I could taste that acrid… wonderfully acrid taste of burnt refuse on my mouth.
That alone would be weird except it was the second night it happened. Night before last, the dream was about a killer who was leaving me bizarre clues as he hunted me down. In the midst of all of this, I was there with Jeff and used-to-be-Clostio. And they figured I needed to relax and distress and “Hey, would you like a cigarette?”
“Sure,” I told them. After all, there was this mad killer chasing me down. Who knew how much longer I’d live, right? I mean, the justification was entirely… justifiable!
Only, last night, there was no killer. No, Jeff and I were hanging out and I was telling him how I planned to quit smoking but it was just so difficult… as I lit another cigarette. And, once awake, I had to remind myself that it’s been over a year and a half since I quit, not just a few hours. But, lying there, with the familiar aroma of burnt Camel filter in my nose, it seemed as though I had just been out there… and the feeling was oh so good…
Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t spend the day thinking about buying a pack or anything, or even bumming one for old time’s sake. But it’s funny how much it holds on to you – even after all this time… but I don’t mind. I got all the enjoyment of smoking without any of the rotten side effects.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Things that scare the hell out of me…
These may come as some surprise.
1) Making breakthroughs in philosophy.
I like to think I’m pretty good at finding cracks in arguments, loopholes in reasoning. For the past several months, I’ve been working on a theory of ethics that fills in the cracks and loopholes of traditional ethics and brings ethics into the 21st century. So, today, I sent a professor I respect a short email explaining my theory, asking him where my problems may lie… and I feel like a jerk. I can’t help but be reminded of what my ex and my mom used to always tell me back when I first decided to study philosophy: “Why do you think you’ll come up with something nobody else has so far?” That’s exactly what I’ve been saying to myself as I dragged myself, kicking and screaming, to send this email.
2) Writing comedy
I like to think I can write comedy but, so very often, I remind myself, “You’re not funny. Nobody thinks your funny.” This is why I’m always so surprised when someone laughs at something I wrote, because I have such a negative self-image. And I recently sent a film idea to a guy (who knows a guy) involved in film and he said he laughed out loud and I thought, “Why?”
3) Acting
I’m not even going to explain this one because you know where it’s leading. I really need to have a little more confidence in myself and this is kind of my own way of reminding myself of that. Because the fact of the matter is I am a good actor and I am a good writer and I am smart enough to figure out new wrinkles in philosophy other people haven’t… well, maybe… I guess…
I’ve had a lifetime of people trying to kill off my dreams and this is what it brought me. So, fair warning. If I see you trying to wipe out someone else’s dreams, I’m gonna hit you… and I won’t even tell you why…
1) Making breakthroughs in philosophy.
I like to think I’m pretty good at finding cracks in arguments, loopholes in reasoning. For the past several months, I’ve been working on a theory of ethics that fills in the cracks and loopholes of traditional ethics and brings ethics into the 21st century. So, today, I sent a professor I respect a short email explaining my theory, asking him where my problems may lie… and I feel like a jerk. I can’t help but be reminded of what my ex and my mom used to always tell me back when I first decided to study philosophy: “Why do you think you’ll come up with something nobody else has so far?” That’s exactly what I’ve been saying to myself as I dragged myself, kicking and screaming, to send this email.
2) Writing comedy
I like to think I can write comedy but, so very often, I remind myself, “You’re not funny. Nobody thinks your funny.” This is why I’m always so surprised when someone laughs at something I wrote, because I have such a negative self-image. And I recently sent a film idea to a guy (who knows a guy) involved in film and he said he laughed out loud and I thought, “Why?”
3) Acting
I’m not even going to explain this one because you know where it’s leading. I really need to have a little more confidence in myself and this is kind of my own way of reminding myself of that. Because the fact of the matter is I am a good actor and I am a good writer and I am smart enough to figure out new wrinkles in philosophy other people haven’t… well, maybe… I guess…
I’ve had a lifetime of people trying to kill off my dreams and this is what it brought me. So, fair warning. If I see you trying to wipe out someone else’s dreams, I’m gonna hit you… and I won’t even tell you why…
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Next!...
I don’t know about you, but I’m the kind of person who spends a lot of his time considering what comes next. I know this might come as something of a surprise, since I also spend so much time considering what came before – where do I get the time for now? – but as important as the past is to me, I’m also obsessed with the future. But not the far future – I rarely think in terms of the next decade of my own life – I’m talking about the near future. The next day. The next week. Or the next month.
What’s next?
What’s next?
What’s next?
It’s after midnight as I’m writing this, in an evening in which I’m fairly certain I’m won’t get much sleep if any at all, and I’ve just finished writing seven more pages of the new play. I’m 31 pages in. It’s a silly play, a very dark play, about a murder that the characters are responding to as an oopsie. It’s almost like they spilled milk, except the milk is blood and they spilled it by shooting someone several times at point blank range. It’s a dark comedy, of course, something new to me. It’s a style I admire, though, and I’m very pleased at how easily it’s coming along. Of course, later they raise the dead, have to put down a zombie, and call on the devil. Very strange.
I told Stephanie and Tony and Robert about this at today’s reading and they looked at me as though I was nuts. (Call me typecast.) I feel like people often typecast me as either an serious actor or a comedic actor or a novelist or a playwright – and then a certain type of playwright or a certain type of novelist – but really, I’m all those things. I’m more, too. And I like to grow. I like to surprise myself.
For instance, after this play, I’d like to write a book on ethics. I know my friend (who was first Vicky’s friend) Jennifer, from up Seattle way, won’t like it much. I tend to put her to sleep with stuff like that. But that’s okay. Not everything I write will please everyone. But that’s what’s next – at least, so I thought. More on that in a minute.
The reading of After You Fall went very well today. My writing was received as funny and meaningful, which I like quite a bit. Vicky read and, though novice, did good work. What struck me, though, was how quickly she moved, after it was over, from “that’s over” to “what can I do next?” She immediately started asking me questions about acting. Now, I’m not sure about Vicky as an actress; she doesn’t really strike me as the type. I feel like she’d get her fill very quickly and tire of silly actor people. I don’t know if she’d ever find the fulfillment that’s there because she doesn’t need it as much as I do. To her, it would be intangible and, dare I say, cheap. But you never know.
Anyway, I thought my next thing was going to be a book on Ethics and it might be. However, after the reading was over, I told the actors about this idea I had for a short film. It’s a silly idea, really, not at all meaningful. But it made them laugh and they immediately encouraged me to call a couple of contacts and pitch it. So, I guess I might do that. You never know.
Right now, being out of work as long as I have, the world has become a much larger place. Opportunities can come from any number of directions and I’m trying not to limit myself with how things are usually done. I’m applying for jobs but I’m also trying to sell books and plays, writing new plays, starting new books, and on and on.
Every day, I find myself asking “What’s next?” And every day, the need for an answer becomes that much more urgent.
What’s next?
What’s next?
What’s next?
It’s after midnight as I’m writing this, in an evening in which I’m fairly certain I’m won’t get much sleep if any at all, and I’ve just finished writing seven more pages of the new play. I’m 31 pages in. It’s a silly play, a very dark play, about a murder that the characters are responding to as an oopsie. It’s almost like they spilled milk, except the milk is blood and they spilled it by shooting someone several times at point blank range. It’s a dark comedy, of course, something new to me. It’s a style I admire, though, and I’m very pleased at how easily it’s coming along. Of course, later they raise the dead, have to put down a zombie, and call on the devil. Very strange.
I told Stephanie and Tony and Robert about this at today’s reading and they looked at me as though I was nuts. (Call me typecast.) I feel like people often typecast me as either an serious actor or a comedic actor or a novelist or a playwright – and then a certain type of playwright or a certain type of novelist – but really, I’m all those things. I’m more, too. And I like to grow. I like to surprise myself.
For instance, after this play, I’d like to write a book on ethics. I know my friend (who was first Vicky’s friend) Jennifer, from up Seattle way, won’t like it much. I tend to put her to sleep with stuff like that. But that’s okay. Not everything I write will please everyone. But that’s what’s next – at least, so I thought. More on that in a minute.
The reading of After You Fall went very well today. My writing was received as funny and meaningful, which I like quite a bit. Vicky read and, though novice, did good work. What struck me, though, was how quickly she moved, after it was over, from “that’s over” to “what can I do next?” She immediately started asking me questions about acting. Now, I’m not sure about Vicky as an actress; she doesn’t really strike me as the type. I feel like she’d get her fill very quickly and tire of silly actor people. I don’t know if she’d ever find the fulfillment that’s there because she doesn’t need it as much as I do. To her, it would be intangible and, dare I say, cheap. But you never know.
Anyway, I thought my next thing was going to be a book on Ethics and it might be. However, after the reading was over, I told the actors about this idea I had for a short film. It’s a silly idea, really, not at all meaningful. But it made them laugh and they immediately encouraged me to call a couple of contacts and pitch it. So, I guess I might do that. You never know.
Right now, being out of work as long as I have, the world has become a much larger place. Opportunities can come from any number of directions and I’m trying not to limit myself with how things are usually done. I’m applying for jobs but I’m also trying to sell books and plays, writing new plays, starting new books, and on and on.
Every day, I find myself asking “What’s next?” And every day, the need for an answer becomes that much more urgent.
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