Upstairs Gallery

Tonight the Upstairs Gallery, Chicago's best underground art space, closes its doors.

I performed less than a dozen times at the Upstairs Gallery, I watched many shows there and (I think) paid for most of them. I didn't find my voice there, I never put up a run, I wasn't on a house team. What the UG gave me and what I learned there doesn't directly have to do with improv or comedy. It has to do with friendship and belonging, kindness and inspiration.

When the UG began I was jealous and resentful. I had some friends doing shows there but felt like I wasn't invited, didn't have a way in, didn't know the secret handshake. The first time I went to a show there I had to bolster myself with liquor. In the beginning I went there sporadically, always felt like an outsider, and I'm sure most times behaved erratically. Then I got sober.

As a newly sober unemployed man I had many hours to kill and I went to the UG with more frequency. I was raw and sometimes scared. I had a reputation, either in reality or in my own mind, of being unpredictable, at times slovenly or cruel. And this gave me some reticence in showing up to places unexpected for fear of being unwanted. But time and time again I was greeted with increasing warmth, at first by Alex's casual and inviting smile, then by an expanding population of new friends. I found that when I put myself out there I was received with affection and interest, found myself responding in kind.

The UG became a place I felt welcome and safe. Not through any overt action but by the nature of its function. The idea and the venue morphed to satisfy the needs of its participates, my needs were interpersonal others were creative.

From artistic direction to simple layout the UG provided a level playing field, a safe zone, a free space. It cultivated openness, risk, honesty, emotion, absurdity, and artistry. You could come and go with impunity, on a great night you shared in the triumph, on a bad night you shared in the irony. You could stay late talking with friends until Alex went to bed or was spirited away in an Uber. Regardless of your level of involvement you were accepted.

In improv the word "community" is bandied about with little discretion and even less meaning. The Upstairs Gallery created and fostered the community we had all been searching for.

Wedding Day

The day of the wedding dawned and I went to go sit with Marta as she got her hair done. Very interesting and fun to see what goes on with brides in high-end salons. I got a peak behind the curtain no man is meant to see.

Later, the groomsmen got ready at the venue and took some pictures, the photographers were really cool, shockingly personable and pliant with the ever-shifting wedding schedule. Above, the readied reception room.

Marta's bouquet.

Nicole and my cousin Chloe with my Aunt Julie and Uncle Mike in the back. Ceremony imminent.

My grandma and I talked poetry before I walked her down the isle to kick things off.

The ceremony was gorgeous. It sprinkled for about thirty seconds and then the skies were clear and the sun shown. I didn't expect to get emotional but of course I did. A family friend Randy officiated and at the beginning said the names of the relatives who have passed. Our grandfather Irv Nelson and our Uncles Mark Brannon and John Pritz. Their spirits were with us today.

Both our parents walked my sister down the isle and it was all I could do to keep it together. It was a beautiful union.

The ceremony ended with a kids parade, they had noisemakers and streamers and we all marched out to "When The Saints Go Marching In" the same song my parents recessed to.

The rest of the day is kind of a blur. The reception was wonderful, best wedding food I've ever had, everyone mingled and it was wild to see all the different people connected by my nuclear family. The speeches were great with a surpirse slam dunk from the best man Ryan. I talked to a ton, but not all, of my relatives and Nicole and I did some dancing. By 11 we were both all in but we stuck around and were the last ones to leave helping my parents clean up when they were both dead on their feet. Nicole handled the event and all the family with so much grace, I couldn't ask for a more loving and understanding partner, couldn't be more grateful to share this day with her.

Marta was beautiful, Nick was dapper, they were both exceedingly happy. A victory, a success, a joy.

Wedding Rehearsal

This morning the venue got set up under the supervision and tyrannical grip of my mom and Aunt Judy. My dad and I picked up my cousin Lauren(left) from the bus to help, my sister(center) came by to approve everything, and I just mostly tried to stay out of the way. The reception room is in the far end of the Rockford Discovery Center right next to the river, the ceremony is going to be in a little amphitheater about 150 feet away. All my favorite weddings have had the same self contained set up, the ceremony and the reception in the same location, no lag-time/all celebration.

The rehearsal went smoothly as they all seem to, the ritual of the wedding, for me at least, is pretty ingrained. There's a couple different variations but it's all riffing off of the same structure. The processional, the readings, the vows. They are all unique but the set ups are similar so it's never too hard to figure out where to stand, when to walk, what to say. We have the comfort of the established format and the bride and groom provide their singular flare.

Marta and Nick picked a beautiful spot, next to water was one of Marta's stipulations, and even though tomorrow has a chance of rain I have confidence the gods of thunder and storm will bestow sunshine on their Norse daughter.

Wedding Weekend

I came back to Rockford last night in preparation for my sister's wedding Saturday. There's a lot of i's to dot and a lot of t's to cross but things are coming together. As the day approaches and people start rolling into town I realize how large my extended family is, aunts and uncles and lots and lots of cousins, Bannens, Brannons, and Nelsons. Some of whom I haven't seen in years, some I may have only seen once or twice, but blood binds and there is shorthand with family however distant.

My goal this weekend is just to be available, to be ready and willing to do whatever is asked of me by my sister, her soon to be husband Nick, or my folks. To be patient, accommodating, and as kind as possible. I'm sure in the next couple days tempers will be short and there will be at least one crisis. People will be tired and there will be countless errands to run. But already I can feel this immense and unwavering outpouring of love.

It's an exciting and momentous time for the Nelson clan, anticipation builds.

Deadwood

"Pain or damage don't end the world, or despair, or fuckin' beatings.
The world ends when you're dead.
Until then, you got more punishment in store.
Stand it like a man- and give some back." -Al Swearengen

The past two weeks I rewatched my favorite TV show Deadwood. From the aesthetic to the acting to the dialogue itself it is an incredible piece of storytelling. Not only is it a great western it's a poignant allegory for civilization.

I've watched the series now a couple times, each time more layers unfold and I can spot more subtlety. Each time I learn something, not in an after-school-special kind of way but in a broad life lesson type of way. Themes of compromise, communication, violence, empowerment, corporatization, contrition, justice, revenge, and many others are explored. The show has taught me a lot about people, individual ambitions and desires and how they meld with society at large. How to soldier on, how to weather adversity, how to negotiate, how to conspire. In an almost antithetical way its characters, despite their deficiencies, work toward the greater good.

It's a fearless show that advocates courage. Despite all the booze and the swearing and the prostitution it's a show about people standing strong against the dark.

Potluck

The Night Shift came over tonight for my first attempt at hosting in the new apartment. We haven't got together outside of a show in a couple years. It was great to have people over, sit in a circle and chat, and snack on various meats, cheese, and fruits. Steph made an incredible sweet potato pie, the first one I've ever had.

We got formed in 2010 and after our first year we stopped rehearsing and followed relatively divergent paths. Some people moved away or stepped down. All of us got involved with other projects which, at times, took justifiable precedent. What's remained constant is our improv and our friendship. The past two years I'd say we've been incredibly consistent in our performance, we've found a loose form and a level of comfort with each other after playing together so long. Craig always takes the suggestion by starting a brief conversation with one of the audience members, we start in a group scene, sometimes we stay in it the whole time sometimes we cut out, around, and back to it using it as a fulcrum. It's fluid and easy, after years and working through all the hang ups each of us has developed and gotten over we've come to a place of true acceptance and delight with each other.

We're not best friends but over the past four years our casual friendship and commitment has cemented into something strong. For our two shows a month, over email chains, and seeing each other out and about, there's a short hand, a connection. All of use have hurdled some big problems, some of us gone through radical personal transformation, but the team, small in scope requiring little commitment, has remained steady. Its bond has come to mean a great deal.

A Brief Interlude Between Spring and Fall

Belated summer
descends
on the latter days of August
muggy, thick, and smothering.

Humidity
close and cloying
presents a lack-luster substitute
to protracted cool.

These dog days
are fleeting
the heat already receding
a portent of the harvest chill.

'Sin City: A Dame To Kill For' A Review

Sin City: A Dame To Kill For is the sequel to the 2005 graphic novel adaptation Sin City. Like the original the movie has an anthology format and contains an intro then three vignettes. It sits in unclear chronological relation to the original which creates a certain amount of confusion given many characters return, some who are dead, and two of which are played by different actors. Bad men and booze, manipulative dames and vengeful bastards- the "story" is unimportant and borders on incoherent.

The past nine years have not been kind to the once anticipated sequel. A Dame To Kill For strives for the edge, the gritty violence, the dark humor, the sleekness of the original but achieves only farce. The one liners fall flat, the characters are dull, and action is rote.

The star-studded ensemble is woefully inappropriate: half aged men, half disinterested women, capped with the ever over committed Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Mickey Rourke's return as Marv is the biggest disappointment. Rourke's portrayal has gone from menacing justice-seeking gladiator to jovial vigilante sidekick. His weight gain also significantly lessens the potency of his once iconic Marv. The only saving grace in the movie is the titular dame played by Eva Green. Always a flashing and magnetic personality on screen she does the best with what she's given and soldiers through perpetual and unnecessary nudity. The rest of the cast flounders through the clunky script and fails to enliven a DOA plot. Josh Brolin is so wooden he almost fades into the background, Jessica Alba is incredibly lost playing the same character but with antithetical behaviors.

No surprise after a nine year weight the sequel doesn't live up to the original. But shocking how far Rodriguez and Miller have fallen, one wonders if they are still capable of creating a compelling film.

Tedious, confused, and unintentionally misogynistic.

Don't See It.

Jangleheart

Tonight concluded the Jangleheart Circus Comedy Festival. I've been there the past three nights and it's been a great time. My favorite aspects were the various concept shows- McGovern's audio/art installation sketch show, Vince and Jordan save the Gallery, Jangleheart Cabaret, and The Talkback. Recently I've found it more enlivening to see friends ideas and performances outside the conventional improv format. I'll be out of town most of next week because of my sister Marta's wedding so it was nice to soak in the spirit of the Upstairs Gallery at the fest.

For my money the best of the fest was the Sand set tonight. The crowd was packed, myself and others sitting on the ground in front of the first row, and people sitting all up and down the stairs. The room felt full and electric. The men of Sand took the stage and delivered in spades. They spun huge emotion and pitiful people into truly heartfelt comedy with a delightful brief foray into stage combat. Best improv show I've seen in a year or more. It's rare after seeing so much and doing so much comedy that I get to experience the same glee I did when I first started out, tonight was one of those rare exceptions.

There was an air of unspoken melancholy and uncertainty hanging over the festival, the impending closing of the Upstairs Gallery and the exodous of some Chicago comedy stalwarts. But for a couple days more we came together, supported each other, and participated in some great and some not-so-great comedy. The physical location may close but the spirit, certainly, will go on.

Anniversary

Last Sunday Nicole and I celebrated our year anniversary. We've had a couple adventures, seen a lot of movies, jumped some hurdles, and gone through a certain amount of sometimes enjoyable/sometimes contentious growth.

Over the past year I've made her a lot of breakfasts and she's made me a lot of dinners, each with varying degrees of success. There were many cups of coffee drank and many cigarettes smoked. From time to time anxieties, irritants, and tempers flared but those instances were eclipsed by a steady stream of comfort, companionship, and surprise.

For a time I mistook desire and infatuation for love. With Nicole I'm finding out what love is and can be. What a fun, healthy, fulfilling relationship looks like. How to communicate, how to apologize, how to show affection and support in ways both direct and oblique. This past year I've grown a lot, we both have. Individually and as partners.

In love as in most things there is a balance to be struck. Passion and contentment. Security and mystery. It's a complicated path, challenging and rewarding, that stretches ever onward. I couldn't ask for a more lovely, understanding, and harmonic confidant. And look to the future with eagerness and hope.

Spend Some Time With Jamison Webb

Tonight marked the beginning of Jangleheart Circus the comedy festival put on by the Upstairs Gallery. The first show I saw at the festival was, possibly the final, Spend Some Time With Jamison Webb one of my favorite semi-recurring shows at the UG. Each incarnation Jamison has a different theme or idea, some past ones were "Father Autumn" "How To Win Social Media" "Perplexity: Pick-Up Artist" "Edward Snowden: The Real Story" etc.

This show's obstacle was NoJoy industries shutting down the "Webbhead Clubhouse" the only way to avoid it was for Jamison to put on the "Ultimate Comedy Show". Which of course he did.

One of the first shows I went to at the UG was Jamison's first installment of the show. It was the first time I really saw a peer experimenting and not only did I enjoy the show, I found it inspiring.

Jamison ended with a Paul Simon parody medley,  a great way to start the fest.

Hark, Villians

Haven't felt terribly inspired the last couple days. My August has been pretty jam packed and I haven't had much time to soak things in, just be, have been on the go. September looks to be a little more open with the start of some interesting projects on the horizon.

The first minute or so of this is my favorite monologue from Shakespeare, maybe of all time. If you haven't seen it Titus is an amazing and bizarre film. Gorey and raw.

A Lie By Omission

In the wake of Dazed and Confused mailbox-baseball came back in vogue in my hometown of Rockford. In preparation my dad installed a quick release mailbox which would simply pop off if struck.

One day returning home from school I found our mailbox was not on its stand. It was by the front door with an envelope. In it there was a note and $20. The note said "Very sorry, this was an accident. There was no one home when I rang the bell. I hope the enclosed money will cover the cost of repair."

I took the mailbox and locked it back in place atop the stand. Problem solved. After brief deliberation I put the $20 bill in my billfold and threw the envelope away.

I never mentioned the incident to my parents. Or anyone else.

Todd

I watched you play video games
for years
you never offered me a turn.
If you were feeling generous
you'd play Sonic to my Tails
or relay the plot of Final Fantasy VII.

Once, while watching you play Myst
your dad burst in, angry and intent.
He spanked you until the joystick dangled from your grip,
and I sat quiet, paralyzed with fear.

While you played Twisted Mental 2
I ate a brownie
and lost a tooth.

That time my mom came to pick me up
I had been watching you play all day.
In the foyer you jabbed and snarked
oblivious, our mothers chatted.
I balled my fist and punched your gut
you doubled over in pain.
As you gasped and squirmed on the hallway floor
our mothers gaped and sputtered.

All of us were surprised
but none as shocked as me.

'The Giver' A Review

The Giver is a social science fiction movie based on the novel of the same name. In what first appears to be a utopian world devoid of war, hate, and violence however we discover that sameness, climate control, and "release" have banished individuality, freedom, and love. The film opens on Jonas(Brenton Thwaites) and his friends on the eve of their graduation from childhood and the receiving of their lifetime occupation assignments. Jonas is excluded from the ceremony until the end, he is given an important position "Receiver of Memory". Thus begins Jonas's training, under the tutelage of The Giver(Jeff Bridges), Jonas begins to receive the collective memories of the society, exercised to facilitate sameness but kept in order for one person to have hindsight and foresight. Jonas begins to uncover disturbing truths about the world he thought he knew.

Jeff Bridges has stated in multiple interviews he tried for twenty years to adapt The Giver, battling with studios about content he finally got it made, unfortunately it is clearly a battle he lost. The beautiful, eloquent, and subtely complex book is rendered bland on screen, a victim to the "sameness" it purportedly rejects. The Giver a 1994 Newbery winner is the precursor and predecessor to the current YA craze however the film adaptation is given the Hunger Games treatment in order to enhance its marketability. The originality, emotionality, and social commentary of the source material is truncated and dumbed down with CGI glitz. An innocuous romance is injected and what modern distopian world would be complete without obliquely menacing drones?

The movie speeds through the transformation Jonas undergoes and devotes little time to the development of his relationship with The Giver. It devotes most of its time on the unimportant romance and in fabricating tension for an unsatisfying climax. Thwaites performance as Jonas is two-dimensional verging on the non-existent, this works for the first part of the story but the characters blossoming perspective is totally unbelievable. Bridges routine gruff voice and glowering overbite do not do his character, or himself, justice. The supporting cast is lost on how to portray an "emotionless" society with any depth. Meryl included.

With such rich and beloved source material it's no surprise this adaptation was a commercial perversion but it is a crushing disappointment. The movie serves only one purpose, a reminder. Those who haven't read the book should read it, those who have should revisit it.

Don't See It.

Closing Night: A Fine Actor Says Farewell To A Theater

With the Upstairs Gallery closing at the end of the month a lot of folks are bringing back some of their favorite shows or putting up previously undeveloped projects. Tonight Scott put on Closing Night: A Fine Actor Says Farewell To A Theater a show clunky in description but wonderful in execution. The conceit for the show is that Scott as S. Charles Nelson "returns" from his illustrious acting career on one/both coasts to the Upstairs Gallery, in celebration of its closing and as the theater that launched his career, to stage scenes from his most notable productions, of which there are upwards of seventy. He began the evening setting up the character then introduced each scene complete with fictitious director, title, and personal circumstance leading to his involvement. Each scene hit a different genre- musical, after-school-special, family-holiday-drama, avant-garde, gritty-crime, farce etc. I wrote a piece as Scott's long admiring/contentious critic which came at the mid-point and allotted him a breather.

The show was great, one of the best I've seen in months, of course my participation may have colored my impression. The scenes themselves were structured but not written and each built one on the other creating a wonderful flow to the evening. In totality the night was hilarious and absurd, dark and disturbing. Scott in one breath mocks theater and theater types while simultaneously creating a terrific piece of theater. Scott has always been a dynamo but in this particular framework he really shined. As a pretentious stereotypical actor type we love to hate him or wink at each other in superiority and the scenes and monologues themselves were clinics on improv within wildly disparate styles. Truly one of the best shows I've seen at the UG.

I was really surprised and grateful Scott asked me to be a part of the show. I haven't done many shows at the UG, probably less than a dozen. It was a joy to be part of something so fun and creative, felt like a proper send off for me to the space, my offering to that alter of performance. 

Here's a part of the piece I wrote: a series of excerpts from fictitious reviews of Scott's fictitious plays.

His follow up to the mystical exploration Tarot Storm was the simple and pared down jukebox musical The Night Phil Collins Came To Town. The play follows a group of barflys and their unexpected encounter with the rocker, Mr. Nelson was of course in the titular role. From my review “...Never have I been more transported. S. Charles Nelson disappeared into the role of Phil Collins. There was no artifice, there was no acting, there was no performance, there was only Phil Collins. During the course of the production the barflys are all changed by their chance encounter with Collins and I would challenge any audience member who didn't under go a similar metamorphosis. After The Night Phil Collins Came To Town the sun shines brighter, food tastes richer, and love making is more passionate. Seeing Mr. Nelson in this production reminded me how to live. This humble critic abjectly wept during Mr. Nelson’s performance of “In The Air Tonight” which I can unabashedly say is superior to the original. Phil Collins dreams of being S. Charles Nelson and we only pray for the chance to observe his genius in the temple of theater one more time.”

On Roasts

Last Friday I went to the roast of Sarah Gaare at the UG in celebration of her impending return to Georgia. Overall it was a good night but there were moments that got me thinking about the line between ridicule and ribbing. Some thoughts.

Women's physical appearance is off limits. Making fun of a woman for being overweight or unattractive is different than the same jokes being pointed at a man. There is weight and societal connotations that don't apply equally to the genders with comments aimed at image. The jokes don't appear in the playful spirit in which they may be intended, they appear bullying, belittling, petty, and in poor taste.

Mean jibes aren't jokes. The purpose of the roast is to be funny. Certainly an aspect is to poke fun at personal short comings but the ultimate goal is to get laughs. It's more important to construct jokes that solicit laughs than to make severe comments airing personal information. Biting remarks in and of themselves are not jokes, humor with intent should be present in every joke, even if the joke doesn't hit the construction will show forethought.

This isn't Comedy Central. With roasts in Chicago they are almost exclusively between friends. Feelings must be a factor when jokes are being written. The different levels of sensitivity of punchline recipients must be considered. Things said cannot be unsaid. It is an unpredictable thing what people take personally, what hits close to home, what nerves are raw. It is best to avoid striking too directly unless you are confident of the unflappability of the intended target.

Don't lose your temper, it's a roast. If you are participating in a roast prepare yourself to be the object of some mockery. Fortify yourself against any and all possible derisive comments which you can conceive. With the appropriate perespective you will be able to shrug off any comment however unfunny or personally upsetting. Losing your temper only proves a comment or comments have hit a nerve, you may speak out of turn on the defensive, reveal information best left hidden, become emotional and regret participation in the event as a whole.

Roasts should be fun and funny. General amusement should always take precedent over cutting taunts.

'Calvary' A Review

Calvary is a harsh drama with flashes of dark comedy about a priest in rural Ireland. The sophomore film from writer/director John Michael McDonagh is a spiritual companion to his overtly comic 2011 debut The Guard. The film opens on an unbroken shot of Father James Lavelle(Brendan Gleeson) in the confessional receiving a death threat from one of his parishioners after they describe their systematic molestation by a priest. He is given one week to live, not because he is a bad priest but because he is a good one, as the individual explains "...wouldn't that be something." We then follow Gleeson as he struggles through the week, the film culminates the following Sunday with the confrontation.

The film is ambitious and at times difficult. It tackles religion, responsibility, forgiveness, death, contrition, and culpability in oblique ways and broad strokes. The are many questions and few answers, taken as a whole it is not entirely successful. Calvary is the type of film that stays with you, that garners lengthy discussion about human nature, that makes you marvel at the capacity and mystery of mankind. But it is an emotionally brutal film and not for everyone.

Brendan Gleeson gives a masterful performance. Soulful and unbridled. He is so emotionally raw at points, so filled with empathy and hope, we cringe as he makes his way through this strident world. The supporting cast are all vibrant McDonagh regulars bringing the bleak small Irish town to disturbing reality. The only misstep is Kelly Reilly as Gleeson's suicidal daughter. She isn't bad simply out of her depth. This is the third damaged woman she has played in so many years and the little affinity she had for this type of character has lost its freshness.

A great film but not an easy one. Be ready for heartbreak and introspection.

See It.

Graffiti 135

"I think your whole life shows in your face and you should be proud of that." -Lauren Bacall

"God has given you one face, and you make yourself another." -William Shakespeare

"The mind loves the unknown. It loves images whose meaning is unknown, since the meaning of the mind itself is unknown." -Rene Magritte

Robin Williams: A Warrior Poet

It is a tragedy, that is the first thing.

I loved Robin Williams since I was a kid. First through Hook, Jumanji, Mrs. Doubtfire, Aladdin, and FernGully then as I got older through Dead Poets Society, Garp, The Fischer King, What Dreams May Come, and the ambitious but imperfect Being Human. Once I hit college Williams provided darker fare, equally interesting but startling coming from Williams- Insomnia, Death To Smoochy, One Hour Photo etc. He was an incredible comedic and dramatic talent with a vast filmography. He brought joy and inspiration to millions. There have been many moving tributes to the late comic each poignant, funny, elucidating his influence, and worth a read. That is the second thing.

I never met Robin Williams and I don't presume to understand him. But we shared an illness- alcoholism. I understand desperation and loneliness. Understand crippling depression. Worthlessness and fatigue and a need for oblivion. I've had suicidal thoughts, contemplated different methods, fantasized the feel of a gun against my temple. Felt like I've had no recourse, no option, no escape, no solution, been on a path with only one distinct outcome. I know what it is, I've been there. It is bleak.

Sometimes life can be too much, sometimes reaching out for help is too hard, sometimes you fight against the dark so long you have no fight left. Living life one day at a time is a constant battle. And sometimes the battle is lost. Most times there is no rhyme or reason, no logic. Nothing to explain or unravel. We can mourn and we can accept but we cannot answer why. That is the third thing.

A comedic soldier and brother alcoholic has fallen. His work and impact will never die.

Chip Haiku

A lone bag of crisps

discarded on the bare tracks

rain clouds looming, dark

'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' A Review

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is a scifi-action-comedy, a reboot of the TMNT series about four teenage anthropomorphic turtle brothers trained in the art of ninjutsu by their rat sensei in the sewers of New York City. This incarnation sees April O'Neil(Megan Fox) uncovering the mystery of the turtle vigilantes battling the assault weapon wielding criminal Foot Clan.

The movie is lack-luster and plodding to the extreme with virtually every scene dumping long, involved, and mostly irrelevant exposition. All the performances are phoned in and flat especially the dead-eyed Fox as the inquisitive reporter. The Turtles are manic and frenetic with so little time spent on them the colored bandannas are needed to distinguish them from one another. Their portrayals at points verge on the racially offensive. Even Will Arentt and William Fichtner seem lost among the drudgery of the script. And with Tony Shalhoub as the voice of Splinter the casting is uniformly clueless.

The CGI turtles themselves are oddly colossal, seemingly invulnerable except when fighting Shredder and his bizarre mechanized samurai suit. The action sequences are uninspired, rote, and by-the-book. The inherent humor and irreverence of the original incarnations is only halfheartedly attempted and totally unsuccessful with "one-liners" recycled from various movies of the past thirty years.

Absurd in its poor construction and execution. Absolute in its unrealized potential. Heartbreaking in its transparent motivation to cash-in on a popular franchise and its corresponding childhood nostalgia.

Don't See It.

Elliot

I remember playing
Nerf-guns in your A-frame house.
Your rough brothers and surly pa
use to terrify me.
Two dark basements, yours and mine
where we would hide,
play Sega,
or watch Bloodsport with Jean-Claude Van Damme.

One day you chased me to the bus
with Jacob and Rashawn
yelled at me "Fat!" and "Crybaby!"
I ran frightened, like a rabbit
eyes white and wide.
You didn't catch me or beat me up
but sometimes
I wish you had.

Skyline

Last night Nicole and I had dinner, watched a couple episodes of Deadwood, and went to the lake front. There were some groups of young people playing soccer and couples snuggling and kissing. We sat in silence and listened to the waves. Across the water the moon shone above The Loop.

After a while she said "We live in a beautiful city." It's something I forget and have cause to remember.

On the way home we stopped by Target to get toilet paper. I picked up a six pack of Charmin, Nicole said "I don't really like Charmin, it's too soft, clumpy. I prefer the rougher, cheap stuff." We went with Scott instead. Communication and compromise.

Harvest Time

It's almost time to pick my first couple tomatoes. To watch the progress of my plants has been calming, a nice constant amongst all the changes going on. It's a good reminder. Things move in cycles: seasons, plants, people. Situations change, circumstances can be volatile, but nature and time have a way of sorting everything out.

There are direct routes, divergent paths and dead ends. Distractions, disappointments and discoveries. In the end there is much out of my control. So to focus on the small things, the little comforts and simple pleasure, the action I can personally take, helps with perspective.

Sitting on my porch after a monotonous day of insurance there's a quiet comfort in the wind through the leaves, water dripping from the window box, and the minute signs of growth.

Sunsets #4

7/14/14

7/27/14

7/30/14

"The biggest cliche in photography is sunrise and sunset." -Catherine Opie

Everybody Lies

I love the show House. I've watched its entire 8 seasons twice over. I loved the overarching plot lines, romances, and ever expanding back stories but even when episodes would follow its established procedural formula I was happy just to soak in Gregory House. A truth-teller, a self-proclaimed and unapologetic asshole and drug addict, an undisputed genius and delightfully anti-social atheist. He was my idol for a long time, I emulated him, his mantra "Everybody Lies" I took to heart and lived by.

There was a time I thought I had no moral compass, no conscience. I did bad things and never felt guilty. I operated under the flawed House justification "Everybody Lies", my own duplicitousness and deceits were merely a response, a reflection of the world I lived in, of human nature itself. I created a world of falsehood, lied so much I convinced myself the lies were truths. I became a dexterous and able fabricator. The lies would come freely, convincingly, subtly and colorfully. So enticingly believable. It came to the point I almost forgot how to tell the truth. Deception and deflection was my automatic response to any question under all circumstances.

My existence during these years was not satisfying, it was desperate and thin. I knew pleasure but no happiness. I discovered Gregory House's oft repeated phrase was not exactly true. People lied periodically, out of fear or necessity or ignorance but not Everybody Lies. Those who do lead bleak lives.

It can be hard to be honest and truthful. Hard to get past years of conditioned shams and habitual bluffs. Tough to get past the ease of pretense. But I realized there is right and wrong. More often than not the right path leads to a happy life. It can be difficult to be sincere and open and forthright but it is always better than the sucking isolation of double-dealing.

'Guardians Of The Galaxy' A Review

Guardians Of The Galaxy is an action-comedy space opera, the latest installment in the ever expanding Marvel cannon. The film opens on young Peter Quill at the death bed of his mother, shortly after her emotional passing he is picked up by an alien space ship. Flash forward twenty years we see Quill(Chris Pratt) an outlaw and space thief on an abandon planet braving a perilous cave, Indiana Jones style, for a mysterious artifact. Through the attempted sale of this artifact Quill hooks up with Rocket, a walking/talking genetically modified raccoon with an attitude, Groot, a humanoid tree, Drax The Destroyer, an alien warrior, and Gamora, an alien assassin. A loose partnership is formed.

The film is truly ensemble driven, with each member of the fivesome sharing dramatic focus and comedic relief. Pratt is more or less the lead, which he carries with his go to charm and playfulness but he consistently and effortlessly shares the focus. The other two stand outs are Rocket and Groot, both CGI creatures but nonetheless incredibly emotive and empathetic. Groot especially garners the most sympathy of any character a remarkable feat given his only lines are "I am Groot." Dave Bautista current WWE wrestler as Drax is passable although clearly out of his thespian depth. Zoe Saldana is striking and powerful but doesn't deliver as much as she has in past roles. On top of the 5 there is a parade of worthwhile cameos, each with unique perspectives and costuming/make-up design. Sometimes a large number of cameos can be detracting but in this instance it is delightful because they are all justified and offer individual flashes of interest.

The soundtrack of the film is an effective weave of action score and 60's and 70's hits taken from Quill's mix tape given to him by his mother. The Earthly pop songs are a surprisingly effective compliment to the otherworldly setting. The action sequences are impressive which certainly benefit from IMAX and/or 3D. But the story is what is truly engaging- an interesting group of people, an amazing adventure, lots of laughs. The film falters slightly towards the end relying on a severely predicable climax and conclusion. The general freshness however isn't lost.

The most striking element of the film is its humor and sense of fun. A popcorn-eating, soda-slurping, summer movie you can get behind. Easily the best Marvel movie in years, it seems some of its vigor comes from the fact it is not a superhero movie, a genre ridden into exhaustion.

See It.

Nesting

Thursday Nicole and I moved into our new apartment. It was relatively painless considering we just had to move our stuff down two floors, Morehead provided some clutch help with the big ticket items. The past couple days we've been unpacking, painting, organizing, hanging, and rearranging.

Unpacking is always my favorite part of moving. Discovering things I thought I'd lost or forgotten I had. Finding the right place for things, settling in and getting comfortable.

It will certainly be an adventure, Nicole and I have a lot to figure out about our new place and about each other. What kind of couch to get, where to hang the curtains, how we relate to each other as roommates, how to create a common and supportive home life, how to find time together and apart.

It's an exciting time. Standing at the beginning of this large unknown experience I couldn't be more grateful for the woman I love and whatever the future may hold for us.

Street Talk 19

Danny, Max, and I outside the Upstairs Gallery. A middle aged woman is walking her dog, the dog poops, she picks it up in a bag and approaches us.

Woman: Can I buy a cigarette?
Me: (smoking) You can have one(I offer her the pack).
Woman: Thank you. Guess who I'm going to see in concert?
Max: I don't know who?
Woman: He's tall, lanky, and blond.
Danny: Neil Diamond.
Max: Keith Urban.
Woman: Rod Stewart. 8th row center.
Danny: Very cool.
Woman: I've been waiting my whole life for this. I'm going through a divorce right now. My husband grabbed me by the throat and choked me. Redneck piece of shit.
Danny: Oh god that's horrible.
Max: Yeah, get outta there.
Woman: If my brother was alive he'd kill him. He was in the Special Forces in Vietnam. He did that Rambo stuff. You seen Rambo?
Me: Yeah.
Woman: That was him but he passed.
Me: Sorry for your loss.
Woman: It was colon cancer that got him. (pause) Have a good night.
Max: You too. (She walks away)
Danny: She was clutching that bag of hot poop in her fist...

'Hercules' A Review

Hercules is a swords and sandals action movie based on the graphic novel reimagining. The movie opens on a captive storyteller spinning the yarns of Hercules in order to intimidate the pirates who hold him hostage. Hercules descends upon the pirates in a thick fog and slays them. Only he is not alone he has a whole crew that helps him. In this incarnation Hercules is not the son of Zeus or a demi-god and his great feats were accomplished by a crew of friends and fellow warriors, his nephew storyslinger and relentless PR man cultivates the myth of Hercules in order to garner mercenary business. Hercules and his fellows are pressed into service by the King of Thrace in order to stop a bloody rebellion. But things are not exactly what they seem.

Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson is near perfect as Hercules, his colossal physique pairs well with his understated charm, he brings a humility to this incarnation of Hercules which is unexpected and fresh. His wig, beard, and accent are at times verge into camp but not to a degree of distraction. Hercules's crew fills out the cast most notably by the ease, whit, and gravitas of Ian McShane and Rufus Sewell however Ingrid Bolsø Berdal puts in a good performance as the resident Amazon and Aksel Hennie gives a surprisingly engaging turn as silent, half crazed, child of war soothed by the friendship of his companions. The best part of the film is the comradery of Hercules band. There is a sense of friendship, fun, and togetherness that is catching. Unfortunately past the inspired casting the movie does everything else by the book.

The action of Hercules is serviceable but not new, the plot adequate but not adventurous. Lead by Johnson, with such a stacked cast, there is a lot of unactualized potential. There is a moment of brilliance towards the end where McShane is whispering to the chained Hercules prodding him to break free of his bonds. It is fleeting.

Rent It.