Bill is a bunny

Monday, February 27, 2006

King Hippo runs this shit!

Back from the sunny climes of Shreveport with a saddle bedcked with scalps. Sorry, I've been rereading Blood Meridian and the prose style is infectious. We had a grand old time playing Saturday night with The Big Positive. Our set was shorter than usual on account of us opening which actually turned out to be a good thing. By cutting out some of the fat I think the songs held together better and the energy was as high as it could possibly be. Reve even complimented me after the show, saying it was one of the better ones we have played recently. Sadly, it was the last show Justin would be playing bass for. I'll miss him. At least we sent him off with a bang and kinda recharged our batteries as far as motivation and commitment to the band. Losing one of the first members of the band can be a killing blow and I think we've sidestepped the axe on this one. At least I hope so.

Before the show I went to Java Junction to watch the Great American Crossover show which was very great and very American. Chris was there in full King Hippo mode and it was uber-cool watching him work his magic. Chris has a weird charisma that is some combination of deprecating humor and dead serious pride of place in what he is doing. The other rappers there seemed to love that crazy white boy for being so off the wall and unafraid of making a fool of himself while somehow making the audience take what he says as gospel truth. That's one of the coolest things for me about watching Chris grow as a performer and artist-his sense of humor never takes over completely and reduces what he is doing to the level of a mere joke. I would like to think we have that in common.

Sunday I stayed over at Chris's place and went with him a Sara Hebert to the Highland Mardi Gras Parade which was a trip to say the least. They throw hot dogs from the floats. Frickin' hot dogs. Many of the floats were on the threadbare side which added to the fun. Lots of drunks and children sharing public space in the sun. I drank too much and started to get cranky so Chris took me back to his place and let me sleep it off. But not before going to a park and seeing local favorites Dirtfoot seranding the crowd with their weird Emmet Otter on acid songs. Lovely stuff, seeing the young freaks dancing in the streets. It was very '60's. I even got a shout out from the lead singer, who told the folks to go shake my hand. And some of them did which was a bit strange. I felt almost like someone famous. Then I decided to go pass out.

Picked up Randy Newman's Good Old Boys and T.Rex's Electric Warrior albums. God, those records are boss! Electric Warrior just kicks my ass in every way imaginable and Good Old Boys plays like a short story collection more than a concept album. Chris and I spent a little QT listening to them and giving our two cents on their finer qualities. Gotta love being young and geeky in the city.

That's all for now. Take care of yourselves, guys, because God knows I can't.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Masked and Anonymous

I'm getting over a cold so forgive me if there are some typos ahead.

I was reading some of the comments made here previously and began wondering if I am perhaps a bit too sensitive when receiving criticism regarding my writing. "Anonymous" was a bit snarky with his or her comments and I didn't take them too well. But there is truth to them. I mean, if I don't care enough about my writing to check it why should anyone care enough to read it? By the same token, these posts are made during my lunch hour and I don't really have a great deal of time to do much proof reading. For stuff that's shot off in 30 minutes or so I would say that the quality of the writing and spelling is pretty good. But that's just my opinion. I still wish I knew who wrote those comments though. It's hard to take someone seriously when they don't sign their comments.

I've been sick the past few days and it's beginning to take its tole. I've blown my nose so much that there isn't any snot left, just water. Yuck! The kids think I'm pretty funny at least. But they can't understand why I don't take their bullshit with the usual laconic ease. Just tired and cruddy. Hopefully I'll be over this by tomorrow when I go to Shreveport (hey, "Anonymous", I didn't spell it "SHreveport". Happy?)

Chris wrote a nice piece on Nine Inch Nails for today so I think I'll briefly weigh in on that band and its cannon. I first heard NIN on MTV when Pretty Hate Machine first came out. I was kinda scared of them. To a Catholic School Boy this band looked and sounded like a sure fire way to go straight to hell. Years later, I rediscovered them in high school and fell head over heels. High school pretty much was hell so I wasn't as concerned about going there when I died anymore. Fond memories of huffing Glade and listening to Broken on my headphones as the world shimmered and faded in and out. Trent Reznor also created two of the greatest soundtracks of the 1990s, Natural Born Killers and Lost Highway. These two tapes were staples in my hatchback for much of the decade. Glade luckily ceased being my drug of choice long before the end of those ten years. It's amazing I survibed, I tells ya!

Well, that's all the time I have for today. Not the most interesting stuff in the world but it was there by God. And that's enough for me. Take care of yourselves, guys, because God knows I can't.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

"Who Killed Laura Palmer?" (spoilers for folks who ain't seen Twin Peaks ahead)

Boy howdy, this weekend was a cold one, guys and gals! My bright idea of distributing flyers along the parade route in Monroe came to nought as most everybody stayed the heck home. Luckily the Dimestore Troubadours did not feel this way and got to the show in one piece (though they did get pulled over by the same cop twice on the way up). Both bands played great sets and the show was as well attended as could be expected considering the weather conditions. The Troubadours stayed at my place that night adn we had a rolicking good time (all things considered). The next day Joseph (the lead singer) and I went out and about in the wilds of Monroe to forage for more beer then took the rest of the band shopping for suits and other sundries in the metropolis. They left glad that they had come. Hooray!

Tensions continue to mount regarding Justin's imminent departure for Arkansas. I think we'll stay the course and replace him but that doesn't keep some negative Nellies from speculating that this is the end of the band. Well, one way or another I ain't quitting this new show biz lifestyle of mine. I've developed a taste for it.

Domino comes out on DVD today. I was mistaken in stating that it would be released this past week on Valentine's Day. I'll be stopping by the mall (shudder!) to pick up a copy after school today. Let me reiterate that this was one of my favorite films of 2005 and I highly reccommend it to one and all. The Tom Waits commentary track is worth the price of rental alone, I'm sure.

I got a wild hair across my ass to rewatch some Twin Peaks this President's Day. Viewing it again, I was struck by how frickin' sad all of it is. The first time I saw this stuff I thought it was pretty silly and more a goof than anything else. But now I see Lynch trying to expose something rotten at the heart of the American landscape (in the trees even!) that eats away at our innocence and heart. Laura Palmer is raped and murdered by her father. How do you explain a thing like that? Lynch created "Bob" as a supernatural motivation for these crimes but in reality there isn't any "Bob". It's just Mr. Palmer. "I always thought you knew it was me." "I never thought you knew it was me." Ugh. I feel for you, Laura. There are probably more of you out there than any of us know.

Thinking about images and repetition quite a bit lately. I want to take the old camera and find a good landscape or something to take "moving stills" of and repeat the process a few times to create-what? Eh, I think the action of doing it will be enough. I cull meaning from it later. In any event, I hope to see some of y'all at our show in Shreveport this Saturday. Take care of yourselves,because God knows I can't.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Fighting and voting...

Another swell day in junior high. This morning before the bell rang in homeroom was pretty typical. The kids were running amok, talking to each other excitedly about what they were doing with their long weekend and ignoring me and the teacher as we vainly tried to get them into their desks. A young fellow named Chris was over on my side of the room showing off some pictures from the Valentine's Day Dance we had last week. My kid, Justin, jokes around with Chris quite a bit and thought it would be funny to throw a paper ball at him. He hit Chris on the cheek and Chris's face went very dark.

WHACK! Chris slaps Justin across the face and Justin is out of his desk ready for war. I leap between them and tell Chris we need to go to Mr. Nat (the assistant principal) and sort this out. I put my hand on Chris' sholuder to lead him out and he twisted around and pushed me away. I looked at him with total disbelief and put my hand back on his shoulder. "March!" Chris starts protesting his innocence in the affair saying that Justin hit him and we aren't going to do anything to him, are we? I tell him that he needs to shut his mouth and we'll settle with Justin in a minute. But he is taking priority.

He burst into tears as we stood outside of Mr. Nat's office waiting for him to arrive. Another teacher passed by and opened the door for me with a look of complete empathy for this situation. When we got inside CHris began bouncing around the room calling me every name in the book. All I can think of doing is telling him to calm down. We'll sort this out. Tears are streaming down this kid's face and I don't know how to feel at all. I realize that my hands are shaking from the adrenaline. I'm kind of scared and can't form words or clear thoughts. Mr. Nat came in and wanted to know who Chris ahd smarted off to now. I explained the situation and Mr. Nat's face gets very grave indeed. I go fetch Justin and Mr. Nat and I give him a good talking to about throwing things and tell Chris to watch his temper. Since there wasn't really a fight I convince Mr. Nat and the homeroom teacher that the incident does not need to be written up and the day proceeds on its regular course.

Violence just freaks me out. I mean I love violent movies and stuff just as much if not more than the next guy. But real violence even violence between children makes me very very afraid. Not that I could get hurt but that I could contribute. I mean, did I let this happen? Did I make it happen by not doing my job? Afterward, did I handle it the way it should have been handled? Should we have suspended the boys? What did they learn from this if they learned anything? And what have I learned?

The kids went to a play today for Black History Month but naturally not all the kids could pony up the $5 to go. I stayed in school with them while Justin went to the play with his classmates. Figuring that they needed a dose of Black History themselves I brought a copy of Chisolm '72: Unbossed and Unbought for them to watch. I'm not going to tell you that they were riveted by the story of this middle aged, homely woman taking on the power structure of elctions in the 1970s but I'm glad I turned them on to it. Some of them watched. And some of them will register to vote when they turn 18. When I asked them about voting the class said "We'll vote for you, Mr. Dunn!" I laughed, but it made me feel really good inside. As good inside as the fight made me feel bad inside. I am trying.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

I need your help, guys...

Mien Gott, will the stress never end? Our bassist, Justin, put in his two week notice yesterday, the jerk. He'll be off to Little Rock and some sort of new career. Can't say as I blame him but it puts a bit of a strain on us to find a replacement. Doesn't it amaze you that we have nevr broken up after losing so many members over the past year? We must be driven or something. Ah. well, it is hard to dance with a stick up your ass.

We're having a big ol' show this Saturday for Monroe's Mardi Gras. Dimestore Troubadors will be coming into town and hopefully bringing goodies with them. Candy, kids, just candy. So I can look forward to that while dreading the outcome.

Yesterday I was trying to take a nap after school when George Detor showed up at my doorstep. We shared a drink and some smokes and watched Marat/Sade which kicked ridiculous ass (I can't believe it was made in 1967!) George then decided he was tired and tromped off to the guest bedroom andf went to sleep. I of course could not return to dreamland for fear of messing up my sleep cycle even more than it already is. Lucky bastard.

That's really all I have right now. I've been thinking a lot lately about the nature of truth and writing and this blog and all that. I mean, this isn't ALL of the stuff that I do. If I wrote all that down I would be fired and arrested and probably lose whatever pathetic readership I have as of now (well, maybe not all of you, but there wouldn't be any other comments on these suckers) Is this a boring blog? Do I need to jazz it up with "fictional" accounts of sex drugs and rock and roll? Let me know!

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Diamonds at your feet...

Well, I survived the dread beast Valentine and even ended up getting a few e-cards from some of y'all. Thanks bunches. I really do appreciate it when you guys read all my angst and don't dismiss it out of hand. I mean, we all got angst right?

I'm reading a book Chris Jay lent me called No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy. You may recall that I posted it was being made into a film by the Cohen Bros. earlier this month. Well, the book has Cohen Brothers written all over it. It really doesn't resemble anything else McCarthy has written before. It is much more straight forward than any of his other novels, with very little of the flights of prose he normally takes. It's also the first book of his I have read that I can say I enjoyed on a pure, cool-story level. He isn't really interested in telling a story so much as creating a mood. This newfound narrative strength makes other parts of his writing style suffer. The run on sentences that dot the pages don't have the same impact when they are simply conveying exposition. It feels like lazy writing more than anything. But he knocks it out of the park with the interludes within the mind of SHerrif Bell. There is a laconic ease to the prose in these passages that is a joy to read. I know Sherrif Bell, I may even be related to him. It was nice to see him in a novel. I can't wait to see how this works on the big screen.

Speaking of movies-the Peckinpah box set is truly amazing. With the exception of The WIld Bunch I had never seen any of the movies inside in widescreen. Peckinpah really Knew how to compose his shots and the grand natural world he captures in these Westerns is not diminished on your TV. If you don't like Westerns you'll like Peckinpah. If you do like Westerns you'll like Peckinpah. Folks used to think he was a nutjob with a camera, foaming at the mouth for more blood and booze but time has been kinder to him than a lot of those other so-called great directors from the 1960s. I'm just glad they put this sucker out for all the world to see.

It's a funny thing about all these rereleases of cult films on DVD. I used to scour the video shelves or pour through catalogs trying to find the weird and wonderful amidst Jurassic Park and JFK. Now anyone can find these things by looking online or trotting over to Blockbuster (where I recently picked up Marat/Sade on DVD. How cool is that?) I'm not as special as I used to be. Nopt that there is anyone I know outside Ryan Sarnowski who can touch me when it comes to film obsession. But the movies I watch used to be treasures I hunted for. When the diamonds are just lying on the ground for you to pick up are they any less precious? That analogy doesn't really work when you discuss the nature of "Art". The value should be intrinsic to the piece (in my opinion) and just because you have twelve Picasso's doesn't mean you have to love him less. I don't know exactly what I'm getting at here. So let's leave it at that.

Lunchtime is almost over and I wnat to get back to my book. Take care of yourselves, 'cause God knows I can't.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

From Hell's Valentine I Stab at Thee...

You know what? I hate this stupid holiday. I feel like Jim Carrey at the beginnning of Eternal Sunshine for the Spotless Mind, walking on the beach, bemoaning his lack of Valentines. Or Charlie Brown going out to his mailbox and finding zilch there. Every attempt I made to set something up for tonight has been met with failure and rejection. I mean, yeah, there are plenty of fish in the sea, I'm a catch, blah, blah, blah. But right now I just feel lousy.
I started feeling lousy last night and got the bright idea to call my ex-girlfriend, Helen, in CHicago. Thought it would make me feel better. Nope. She spent the majority of our talk describing what a swell guy she's dating now and all the fun they have together. Fun we never could have had together in Monroe. I had to nip the conversation in the bud and claimed I was sleepy and had to get up the next morning.
The latter part was true but I ended up drinking until past midnight watching my favorite moments of crumminess from Deawood and the "Love makes you fat..." speech from Gangster No.1 (a great movie by the way, probably my favorite British crime film) These small comforts didn't really help much.
I got up in the middle of the night and drove to Wal-mart. It was full of folks getting last minute stuff for their sweethearts. I bought Valentine's Day cards for my Mom and Dad and a half dozen pink tulips in a pink pot. I gave it to them this morning and they were happy I guess. Surprised that I thought of them is more likely. I can be such a rotten son sometimes.
Justin, my student, brought a little girl a bunch of flowers and a white stuffed monkey. I felt like telling him not to waste his time but got hold of my senses and offered him council on the affairs of women. You know the rag: chicks dig confidence, there's never any harm in asking a girl out the first time, the worst she can say is "no", etc. I mean, all that stuff is true, but...I don't know. It jsut sucks to be alone on this day.
Tonight I want to drink in, watch Domino on DVD and try not to think about how lonely I feel right now. I wish I was in another country with someone special. I wish I could be there tonight.

Monday, February 13, 2006

59 looks like 88

To explain my last post a bit more: the Battle of the Band's in question occured at Centenary College for the radio station, KSCL. Chris and I were last minute additions to the solo performing acts category because someone else had pulled out. Chris and I spoke the afternoon before the show and I suggested I be his "hypeman", y'know, Flavor Flav to his Chuck D. He thought it would be a funny idea and agreed. We listened to the tracks he would be performing at his house beforehand and then got up on stage and did what we did. When they got around to announcing the winners I wasn't really listening because I figured I had completely spoiled any chance Chris had of winning. Someone tapped me on the back and said "Congartulations!" to which I responded, "For What?". I walked on sunshine for the rest of the evening, went to Lil Joe's and got glared at by the guys in Squint and was basically just really happy to be in Shreveport when I was. Chris and I got some QT in the next day, watched Sympathy for Mr. Vengance and discussed his screenplay a little bit (I wish I had done more of that with him). Chris as usual had a ton of cool graphic novels for me to read and there was a great game of drunk Scrabble that I did not participate in because I began to get VERY tired after eating Saturday night. I got up Sunday and drove back to Monroe. That's it in a nutshell except that I also picked up the new Sam Peckinpah Legendary Westerns DVD box set which has made me a happy clam. I watched Ballad of Cable Hogue last night and got all stroppy watching Jason Robbards galavanting around the desert. Interesting fact: Peckinpah died when he was 59 but looked like he was 88! The more you know!

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Breath underwaterus with me

Chris Jay and I won the KSCL battle of the Bands solo act category last night. I am a proud peacock strutting around town today. Do you see my plumeage? Do you like it? Yours is nice too. But mine is the best!

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Don't touch her...

I had a wonderful talk with Kaycee last night. It amazes me that she can call me from Japan and sound like she is across the street. Technology! I sing your praises. We talked for quite a while, until the battery on my cell phone died actually, and I worry that the cost of the call could have gone toward her college loan payments or something. But I am glad she did it.

Things are a might bit stressful around here lately as you may have gathered from yesterday's post. Time heals the wounds but care must be taken not to let them be reopened. We'll see how that goes...

Chris Jay sent me his screenplay this week in a format I can download and print and -surprise!- it is excellent. He has been trying to convince me and others that it is really rough and not anywhere near completion, etc. Well, if this is rough, bring on the fine tuned Cammero version. Chris' writing has improved leaps and bouinds over the past couple of years and he's on his way to becoming genuinely great. The characters are well motivated, complex and human. I was shaking when I finished my first read through and more than a little intimdated by the idea of acting in this thing. I've never been asked to do so much on stage or screen while doing so little. The feelings it evoked in me were eep and slightly disturbing. The best and most surprising thing I found in the script was the women's roles. Chris can write a woman (if only he could learn to make love to one-just kidding). That's harder to do than you think. Men in fiction seem to have clearly defined motivations while women can come across as cyiphers or stand-ins for a concept of femininity. Chris does not do that here. These are living, breathing human beings and reading about them is a very cool experience. I hope I can do the job it will take to translate them to the screen.

I hope Chris doesn't mind me writing about him here. I didn't give away anything about the plot or even the title of the film. My enthusiasm may have gotten the better of me. I imagine him reading this post and screaming at the screeen of his office computer, throwing chairs against the walls, breaking a window, sticking out his head and screaming something very Swearengen at the sky. Something about me and farm animals and my mother maybe. It's not important. What is important is this project he has invited me in on. I feel honored and genuinely excited to be a part of this thing. Chris, you stun me.

Practice tonight should be interesting. Lots of stuff to talk about and think about.

Does anyone know anything about Portland, Oregon?

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

My mom's whistle

Have you ever had a conversation with a friend about yourself and from what the friend tells you it is obvious they have no idea what's going on with you and your life? It is a very sad, lonely feeling, especially if you assume the person has a lot of insight into you and your life. I feel like I did when I found a whistle on my mom's keychain as a kid. I asked her what it was for and she said it was in case she got mugged. I imagined a large man cornering my mother in a dark alleyway while she blew the whistle. And nobody came to help.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

New movie central

Yesterday I went to the mall (yuck!) and sold a few of my movies to purchase some new ones. Not to worry-nothing that will be missed terribly was lost. I picked up the Chan Wook Park film Sympathy for Mr. Vengance and the new DVD "extended cut" of Dune.

Any Dune fans out there? I hate the books and loathe the newer miniseries but David Lynch's original movie version still captivates me after all these years. I think it has a lot to say about the USA's current situation in the middle east (don't tell homeland security, they'd be bored to tears by this ponderous monster) and Lynch just makes my head spin with his visuals and characters. How many movies have copied this sucker's "look"? I mean, no, it doesn't make sense but that's half the fun. I don't know what's going on but it seems pretty durn important to the Fremen and Kyle McClauchlan (I know I misspelled that). Kyle's pretty good too. But none, I mean NOONE, beats the Baron Valdimir Harkonen. When I was a little Vidrine I had the worst acne on the face of the Earth. The Baron gave me hope that I one would be, if not beautiful, then a brutal despot. Too bad the face cleared up, eh? And Sting is sooooo cool in this thing. I ordinarily can't stand the guy (except that "Fields of Gold" song, it takes me back every time) but here he plays an all out bad dude. The special effects are those swell 1980s matt shots and models and yeah, I can see the wires and the catapults that launch the soldiers into the air during the big battles but I DON'T CARE! It's flawed but it's gorgeous. So there.

Sympathy for Mr. Vengance is a whole other kettle of fish. Mien Gott! There ain't no flaws here, darling, it's just brilliant. If you saw Park's follow up to this, Oldboy, then check out the original vision. It is 100% better in every way. I expected something more along the lines of Oldboy when I popped it in but no dice. This is a deeply funny, deeply moving story with dollops of gore and shock mixed in (but not to the degree I had been led to believe. It's saying something that I don't feel cheated). This is what I look for out there on the video fringe-something I have never seen before but when I do I know I've been looking for it my whole life. I love you Mr. Park!

Reve and I will be reviewing some footage of Vidrines shows to put together for a promotional DVD to send to clubs. This makes me one happy Billy. I've been recording songs with my pal, Jeremy Sparks (of fame) and the results are pretty cool. He's going for a Frogs-improv vibe to all the stuff so no retakes of the vocals are allowed. We've recorded 6 songs so far and they keep getting better. It brings back fond memories of the BJs days (the BJs was the first band I was in with James Katowhich, if you never saw us you suck or were not in Monroe at the time) If anyone wants to hear these suckers let me know, I'll try to send you a CD.

That's all she (or I) wrote today. I love you guys!

Monday, February 06, 2006

Back from the weekend and still kicking...

Great show this weekend at Einsteins in El Dorado. Not the best attended gig in the world (this is a disadavtage of working outside the homebase) but those that were there enjoyed themselves thoroughly and we played our little hearts out. The $xxx guarantee came in really handy too, allowing us to pay for all our expenses and still take home a little dough for ourselves. Good times.

We don't know how well the new keyboardist is going to work out. Many times he is spot on a integrates with the sound quite well. Other times he goes off on rather muddy tangents that have little to do with the songs we are playing. I hate to clip anyone's creative wings but it looks like Thad (that's his name) may need to come back down to earth in order to continue to play with The Vidrines.

I finally got my package from Kaycee on Friday. It conatain a really sweet note and a copy of the poster for Get Carter in kangi from 1973. Bizarre seeing Michael Caine surrounded by pop art graphics and Japanese characters. Thanks Kaycee! I love it (and you)

We've been taking my video camera to the shows with us recently and having a grand time with it. The footage has been swell as far as me being able to see what works with my movement onstage and what does not. I also love getting some mileage out of the damn thing. If only Reve's girlfriend would stop tilting it on its side when she shoots we'll be golden.

Ate a superb Superbowl dinner yesterday at a party "catered" by the fellow that runs the kitchen at Canard's a local restaraunt. Duck, lamb, corn, various casseroles and pheasant! What the hell is pheasant doing at a Superbowl party? No one was interested in the game so I turned over to TCM and watched FW Murnau's Sunrise. What a beautiful film. The other folks didn't know how I could be watching the film with the sound down until I explained that the movie was silent and Kanye West makes a fine soundtrack. They just looked at me like I was out of my mind.

Also got to habg out with Ronnie and Veronica a bit Saturday night which was swell. I had a mission and it was accomplished. But what it was is between me and my monkey. Sorry.

Proud of everything in my life right now, glad I've gotten back in touch with the people I got back in touch with and rabidly wishing I had access to Grizzly Man by Werner Herzog. That guy is a total nutjob!

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Words cannot express the horror I felt...

This morning I went ot my folks' place and saw that the new issue of Rolling Stone had arrived. I was delighted to see Kanye West in full Passion of the Christ regalia on the cover and rushed into my parents' bedroom to show my father. I was greeted by the sight of my father's naked proterior as he wandered to the bathroom for his shower. Yeesh!

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Movie news that's pretty cool.

After all the cruddola that has littered my blog this week I thought I would announce a couple of cool entertainment news items ( and have bigger and probably better articles posted on these) First up one of my favorite authors is having one of his books adapted into a film by a couple of my favorite filmmakers. Cormac McCarthy's book, No Country for Old Men, is being adapted for the screen and directed by the Cohen Brothers. After the debacle that was Billy Bob Thorton's All The Pretty Horses (I still hold on to a ray of hope that there was a good movie in there that was left on the cutting room floor by the Brothers Weinstein) it will be cool to see how the Cohen's handle it. I watched Miller's Crossing again the other day and was blown away by the dialouge and attention to detail which seemed to have more in common with a novel than the average gangster yarn. Cool Beans.
The Next bit of news is a bit more problematic but could pay off in spades. The guy who created Samurai Jack for the Cartoon Network (I have no idea what his name is) is woking on a sequel to The Dark Crystal with original designer Brian Froud. Of course we'll get those groovy muppets back but they will be mixed with CGI ("Like Sin City" says which gives me cause for pause. One of the major attractions of the original is the relience on practical effects. I know Jim Henson was always up for using new technologies and would have been all about CGI if he was alive today but I love the idea of Gelflings and Skesies and Augra all existing somewhere. You could touch them, smell them feel the weight of their prescence. I never actually did any of that but I COULD have and still could if all the latex hasn't rotted of them yet. I showed the original film to my Reading class last year and they LOVED it. I had to explain again and again that they did not use computers to make any of the creatures or enviornments they inhabit. That sounds like the technique holds up pretty darn well. But if Froud is on board it may be a nifty return to a world I dearly loved as a child and that continues to fascinate me as an adult. The working title of the sequel is The Power of the Dark Crystal, by the way. Evidently the Samurai Jack guy does the new Star Wars Clone Wars cartoons as well and those a supposedly much better than the new prequels. I gave up on Star Wars a while back and still have not see that Sith movie. Please, God (or the Ghost of Jim Henson) don't let them cock up another of my childhood favorites. PLease.
In Vidrines news we ARE playing in El Dorardo this Friday. Sorry if there was ever any doubt.