Remember these? Yuck.

While out shopping with a female friend, we stop to examine a kiosk selling trendy purses and belts made entirely of big, dangly sequins in bold, fluorescent colors. I fear someone has accosted a figure skater and stolen their outfit for raw materials.

“I should get one of those,” my friend says, her face a canvas for disco-ball refractions cast by sparkling handbags. I raise an eyebrow. This young woman, characterized by her classy, subdued taste, must be in thrall, mesmerized by the magnificent gaudiness.

“Why?” I’m genuinely curious, and a little concerned.

“They’re so hot right now,” she replies. Her gaze doesn’t leave the display. “Everybody has one.”

“So? They’re popular, so what? You don’t even like pink. Or magenta. Or whatever that is,” I say, pointing to a belt roughly the shade of Liberace’s soul.

She finally looks at me, and her expression is blank. Yet, is it my imagination, or can I see hot pink sequins dancing in her irises? “They’re so hot right now,” she says again, flat, atonal.

“But you hate trend-driven consumerism!” I cry. “You oppose Paris Hilton and all she stands for. Why give in to this?”

She stares at me and points at my wrist, adorned with three thick, mono-hued rubber ringlets sporting unrelated slogans. I haven’t worn a bracelet since junior high. Why did I start again now? I’m struck by the realization that no one else has worn these things in months. Why am I?

Her finger raises to indicate my pseudo-vintage, process faded graphic T-shirt. It depicts a questionably-named business establishment that has likely never existed, in a state I’ve never visited.

The accusatory finger aims higher to my short cropped hair, cut in imitation of Lost star Matthew Fox.

I am overcome by my hypocrisy. My will to fight the system evaporates. I look from my friend’s face to the gleaming, serpentine scales of yellow, aqua and copper satchels. I revel in their gaudy hipness. They are to me as jewels in a treasure chest of fashion.
My friend buys one. I applaud her on how the fuschia complements her pea coat and brings out her hazel eyes. “You’re so in,” I tell her.

A week later, I’m at the mall with my wife. I’m drawn to a display of enormous belt-buckles, some with sharp, protruding edges, others with bright red LED lights scrolling popular catch phrases and rap lyrics. I have never liked such unnecessary belt attire. I imagine how stylishly ironic it would be to wear one now.

I gesture to a buckle resembling a hubcap, a dollar sign spinning in its center. “I like that one,” I hear myself say.

“You’re kidding, right?” my wife asks, incredulous. When I shake my head, her eyes go wide. “Seriously? Why?”

I stare at the spinning buckle bling and mentally compare it to a shiny, sequined pocketbook.

“They’re so hot right now.”

It’s been some time since I’ve written here. As you may or may not know, I lost my mother at the end of October. It was very unexpected, and the single most difficult and damaging experience of my life. You expect a trauma like that to affect you, but I think ‘how’ is always the big surprise. My family and I are healing, and I appreciate all the help we received during this trying time – particularly from The Armada who, as always, stood by me and propped me up when the weight of it all threatened to overwhelm. I love you all. And no words can describe the unimaginable support provided by my wife and best friend, Wendy. She understands what I’m going through all too well, and it has been her unenviable task of picking up my pieces and gluing them back together when I am struck by the need to fall apart. I hope you all can be so fortunate to have somebody in your life with the capacity to love and give that she possesses.

As for my mom – I love her and miss her, always. Sometimes the ache of it all sets in without warning, waves of sadness and surreality crashing against my weary mind. If you discover me to be a bit odd now and then, please excuse – the carrier pigeons that pass for my neural impulses are slow to deliver to all the dusty corners of my brain. When they finally arrive, I get to experience it all again anew, and apparently each uncharted faction of the mind requires its own slightly personalized method of dealing.

However, this is not a blog about all of that.

I’d like this to be the beginning of a weekly entry – I’m not so thick as to think I’ll always been consistent, but I imagine it’s a worthy goal – especially because I wish no structure on it at all. Just a random collection of my thoughts on the things I encounter day to day. So, that said…

I WATCHED “WAITRESS” TONIGHT. It’s a little film about little people with complex, tangled relationships and one woman’s effort to escape a dead end life. It features Keri Russell (remember “Felicity”?) in an impressive, nuanced performance, and Nathan Fillian (Captain Mal in our beloved “Firefly”) as her awkward, sweet OBGYN and extra-marital love interest. Also contains a splendid turn from Andy Griffith. Sadly, the quirky, talented writer/director (and supporting cast member) Adrienne Shelly never got to see her film debut – she fell victim to an absolutely irrational act of violence, murdered by a construction worker in the building where she kept her office. “Waitress” is a testament to her filmmaking vision, a unique understanding of personal drama, friendship and the gravity of our decisions. It’s funny, sad and insightful, and you should go rent it.

I READ “THE BLADE ITSELF” BY JOE ABERCROMBIE. This is a hard book to describe succinctly, because it doesn’t have an obvious plot. Instead, it follows three very different characters as the threads of their lives are woven together against the backdrop of vivid and brutal fantasy world. Abercrombie’s startlingly good debut novel is packed in turns with exceptional characterizations and visceral, engaging action scenes. He finds a voice quite apart from most fantasy fair, in turns frank and funny and vulgar. Inspector Glokta and Logen Nine-Fingers are two of the most fascinating fantasy characters I’ve encountered in years, and I most eagerly await the sequel (set to land on American shores in February, I think). Get thee to a bookstore.

I MET WRITER/DIRECTOR JAMES GUNN. First, outside of the radio station, where I quickly introduced myself (with the obligatory “I’m a big fan” AND “we’re friends on MySpace”). Later, Cory, Big T and I spoke with him after a Q&A session at the St. Louis Movie Festival. Both times he was very gracious and easy to speak with. And he was hella funny during the Q&A – the man is a silly bitch. Not surprising from the fellow who wrote/directed “Slither” (starring the aforementioned Nathan Fillian as ‘Bill Pardy’).

I SAW “THE MIST” IN THE THEATER. 95% awesome, but that last 5% was such a kick in the privates that it made me hate the film. The director and I will have words some day, oh yes. Skip the last 3 minutes and it’s a pretty good flick.

ALSO SAW “BEOWULF” AT THE CINE, IN 3D. I felt bad that I missed Neil Gaiman’s “Stardust” in theaters, so I hastened to “Beowulf”. It’s impressively animated, but at times poorly directed or edited – it loses its flow frequently, with long, boring moments creating an awkward canter between some really thrilling action sequences. The dragon battle near the end is particularly badass. Angelina Jolie’s digital presence in the film is distracting, and the fact that her computer-rendered face looks absolutely identical to the real life version and yet is still sort of disturbing only suggests that she borders on inhuman. If you love CGI or sword-n-sorcery tales, give it a go. But it can wait for dvd – the 3d is neat, but I don’t think it will lose much without it.

THE UNRATED, UNCUT OF “TALLEDEGA NIGHTS” SUCKS. Seriously, get the theatrical version – the director’s cut ruins the comedic timing of the entire movie. They say 13 minutes were put back in, but it feels like an extra 2 hours. “The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” works as a concise piece of pop silliness, but fails when the editor becomes indulgent. And you’ll hear the phrase ‘Shake and Bake’ way more than is really tolerable.

THE FIRST EPISODE OF THE “TERMINATOR” TV SERIES ROCKS. I was fortunate enough to land a screener of the upcoming “Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles” pilot from Fox. I didn’t have high hopes for this, but Summer Glau (River on “Firefly”) co-stars as a new take on the protective Terminator, and that was enough to get me in the door. The show follows roughly after T2, with some time lapse. And it rocked – totally captured the feel of T2’s ominous paranoia and machine-blunt action. T, Cory and I re-entered this world with severe doubts and left genuinely jazzed up. Debuts in January, and I think a fair amount of it was finished before the writer’s strike, so yay for non-rerun TV!

I JOINED A COMIC BOOK CREATOR CLUB. My new dorky haunt, Twilight Comics in Shiloh (in the Green Mount shopping plaza near Target) is hosting a bi-weekly gathering of writers, artists and assorted other creative types interested in making comics. Despite the crappy weather, the first meeting was well attended and tons of fun. It was compelling to converse with a handful of other guys entrenched in the craft of sequential art storytelling. The group was heavy on writers in this first go ‘round, but there was an artist there whose portfolio and work ethic were extremely impressive. The second meeting is this coming Thursday. We’ve been charged with creating something new for each week, pages of script or art, at least a little something creative to share with the group. I’ve not had a very productive couple of weeks, but I’m hoping to complete a six page rough draft of a script for one of my comic properties.

A HANDFUL OF OTHER THINGS:

I’m reading “Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Joss Whedon’s Season 8”, DC’s “Booster Gold” and My Chemical Romance frontman Gerard Way’s “Umbrella Academy” comics. Good stuff all around. After 7 years, though, I’m losing interesting Brian Michael Bendis’ “Powers”. I think I’m only still getting it out of habit.

I received the “His Dark Materials” trilogy as an early Christmas present, which I’m excited about. Also got the first volume of “Preacher”, which I read on the job at Fantasy Shop years ago. It was a fun re-read – a little rough around the edges, but sets up the inspired insanity of the rest of the series.

I’m 3/5 of the way through “The Spiderwick Chronicles”. It’s pretty decent kid’s fare, really one book split into a 5 volume serial – presumably to make more money by releasing them as $10 mini-hardcovers. The reading leans a bit thin as it often relies on the accompanying illustrations to describe the people, creatures and locales. My favorite element so far is, of the three sibling protagonists, one is singled out as our main touch point, while his twin takes a backseat. I think that’s a fairly unique way to portray twins in fiction.

My friend Roi’s band, The Material, made it all the way to second place in a big MTV2 contest. They performed at the competition finale in Times Square. It’s a big deal for these guys, a real break that is creating some exciting opportunities. Roi’s been pursuing music as a career for the better part of 15 years, so I’m really excited for him. (Some of you may remember him as the guitarist from Cory’s old band, Cope.) The Material has a nice hard melodic rock sound with a female vocalist. Strangely, I’d been following the band for almost a year on MySpace before Roi moved west and eventually joined up with them. Find them and show them some love.

Jimmy Eat World’s new record is pretty awesome, especially the first single “Big Casino”.

Another band to check out is In This Moment – met them the other day. Nice folks, solid performers, and the lead guitarist is sorta like a dreadlocked, metal version of Seth Rogen.

It’s now 12:30 and I have physical therapy in the morning. Yay for cracking and stretching and putting my body back into some semblance of alignment.

All my love,
adron

I used to hate Hugh Grant in every movie he appeared in. Then he was a part of the fabulous ensemble cast of ‘Love Actually’ and his suckage rating went way down. Today we saw him with Drew Barrymore in ‘Music and Lyrics’, which was a helluva lot of fun. Drew is as cute as I’ve ever seen her (and that’s pretty darn cute) and Grant’s character is likable, funny and altogether someone you’d be pleased to know. It’s a light movie with a ton of laughs and personalities you actually believe in and want to root for. Check it out.

New Hotness

We got the new hotness in a work. About 8 months back I put in a request for phatty-boom-blatty HD camera and editing system, with little hope of it happening. Found out right before we left for NYC that we got it. Received all the pieces and set it up on Friday. We’re talking tricked out Mac Pro system with a freakin’ huge monitor, a really nice video camera and the Final Cut Pro editing suite. It’s all so sexy!

I’ve never gotten around to really blogging about the NYC trip, out of pure exhaustion, and it’s not likely that I will. So I’ll try to share a few photos here and there. You know, for continuity.

Gene at the New York City Comicon

NYC sandwich shop with an awesome name.

Signature of Brian K. Vaughn, writer of Y: The Last Man, new story editor on Lost and number one super guy.

Animated Batman bank, purchased at the con. Nine dollars and 99 cents of awesomeness. (For some reason, you can't see his mouth in the photo...)

I heard recently that Kelly Clarkson had signed an endorsement deal with Vitamin Water, but the company was refusing to pay her or use her services until she dropped 10-15 pounds. The flavored water-ish distributor has a health-oriented image to maintain, (you know, that’s why they aligned themselves with rapstar 50 Cent – feuding with other rappers and getting shot 9 times just screams healthy) so a “fat” Clarkson was unsuitable for their campaign.

Beyond her considerable singing abilities, I admire Kelly for being a “real” girl in an industry of finger-gagging waifs and no-talent plastic drama queens. She’s girl-next-door pretty, goofy and fun in interviews, and has never lost that beautiful junk-in-the-trunk.

I understand the company wanting its spokesperson to look good. It’s hard to market with an unattractive spokesperson (check out McDonald’s unfathomable “Hugo” campaign). But forcing Clarkson to fit into the contemporary Hollywood vision of beauty (bone-skinny without a curve to be found outside of big, fake boobies) is both detestable and contradictory.

Afterall, why hire Clarkson if you didn’t want a chick with womanly-hips, moderately-sized breasts and feminine curves? Go get a generic music industry hussie to push your glorified Kool-Aid, like newly-no-nose-bumped Ashley Simpson. Hell, you could probably afford the entire Pussycat Dolls contingent for what Kelly costs. But wait, they don’t have her credibility, sustaining popularity or likeable approachability, do they? Hmmm….

You’re beautiful, Kelly Clarkson, even if your thighs and belly get unjustly ridiculed in (insert appropriate, mind-numbingly unoriginal fashion/women’s/celebrity magazine title). Perhaps Vitamin water should find themselves a pretty little emo-boy, get him some implants to go with his girls’ low-rise jeans and pass his skinny ass off as a pop starlet.

You may be asking, “Who?” To be honest, I don’t really know either. But I do know they’re hip with the indie kids. I think I’ve seen their shirts at Hot Topic. They’re in town tonight to do a show with Fall Out Boy – the band developing a reputation (with anyone over 18 or that have been to more than 3 concerts ever) as the group that manages to sell out every show whilst being notoriously poor live performers.

The Heights guys were nice enough, in a detached, personality-less kinda way. I’ve seen photos of them before, and they lived up exactly to my expectations. One of their guitar players looks, well, doofy. There’s no better word for it. And he was exactly that. Every time he opened his mouth, the other two guys gave him the “for God’s sake, shut up already” look, well practiced and obviously habitual.

They played two songs: “Ohio is for Lovers” and whatever their current single is. Witness the melodrama of “Ohio…”

And I can’t make it on my own.
(And I can’t make it on my own.)
Because my heart is in Ohio.
So cut my wrists and black my eyes.
(Cut my wrists and black my eyes)
So I can fall asleep tonight, or die.
Because you kill me.
You know you do, you kill me well.
You like it too, and I can tell.
You never stop until my final breath is gone.

The guitar players were actually pretty good, but the vocalist is of a type increasing common in the emo/alternative world. These “singers” can barely project at all. Their diminuative vocals absolutely require a microphone and the sound system pushed to full volume, just to be heard above, oh, say, the roar of a ceiling fan. They are lost on acoustic performance, at least if you’re in the studio and aren’t wearing headphones like the jock. Maybe he pushes it a little harder live, I don’t have basis for comparison here, but it was totally weak.

Among the other artists I’ve encountered like this: Kill Hannah (talented band, but the vocalist has a pale imitation of Garbage’s Shirley Manson for a voice), and aging-industrial wannabes Gravity Kills (who delivered the most mistake filled, flat studio performance I’ve seen outside of the band Thursday).

/// Listening to “Year of the Spider” by Cold

For those of you that don’t know about my day job, my work at the radio station has exposed me to a string of minor, up-and-coming and pseudo celebrities and rock stars. The notable include Rob Thomas, Korn, Joe Satriani and Breaking Benjamin (see my photos). The not-so-much pile consists of Playboy Playmates, various Howard Stern cast members and alternative knock off bands (anybody remember Earshot? Sounded like Tool? No, not Chevelle, but just like that…)

Today I met (albeit briefly) an honest-to-goodness Red Carpet type: Jada Pinkett-Smith. Yes, the accomplished actress and wife of Big Willy himself. She was in studio to support her band Wicked Wisdom (yes, she is the vocalist for a heavy rock band) and their local concert with Sevendust.

I relate this not to impress (I know it’s not a big deal), but rather just to point out how cool she was. Very approachable, friendly and quite funny. Her interview on the Thom and Jeff show was pretty humorous, as she struck up a fine banter with co-host Jeff Burton. She had her ridiculously adorable daughter, Willow, with her, and their interaction was endearing as well (her roadie/body guard Mike also seemed to have a great relationship with the little one). And, as we exited the building at the same time, she held the door open for me. I know that’s not a huge thing, either, but even here in the midwest people don’t do that for others much anymore.

I didn’t have any real preconceptions about Jada, so I was happy to find her pleasant and seemingly genuine. In the past, personal meetings have really soured me on various artists. Others have changed the way I looked at their music by being really cool (I hated Shinedown’s music until I met them; they were such fantastic guys that I had to give their stuff a second chance. they’re second album is pretty good). Even bands like The Donnas, whose music I think is wretched, impressed me by being approachable and good humored (except the bass player – she was a complete bitch). And though I’m not a huge fan, I got a real kick out of having pizza with Jonathan Davis of Korn and talking about how silly Godsmack is…

/// Watching “Ultimate Avengers: The Animated Movie”