To Wit, Alan Moore Is A Frickin' Genius

The man is considered by and large one of the greatest graphic novel writers of all time. Any such unofficial list would also include Frank Miller and Stan Lee. Because they're frickin' geniuses.

Watchmen is the only comic to appear on Time Magazine's list of "Best English-language novels from 1923 to the present". It's a seminal work. As is V For Vendetta.

I'm concerned about such things as I'm trying to get my own comic published. I came closer to that this weekend than I've ever come. It's actually possible.

Moore's work is complex. It's very, very complex. And it's brilliant, and elegant. Graceful and Grotesque. I won't say any more than that.

It takes work. I wish I could grasp the mechanics of it. I've tried. I'm still trying.

Beyond that... I got nothin'.

Things To Look Forward To

The New York Comic Con is this weekend; and thanks to my brother's connections I have a press pass. That's helpful. Not to mention darn convenient.

In addition to reporting on the goings on for Andy's site, I'll be going for more... personal reasons. This is my last shot at getting All Fall Down published. I have ten copies or so left, and there will be plenty of comic labels to cherry-pick. There will also be cartoon companies at the convention, and a voice-over artist could do worse for opportunities to self-promote.

Do I expect anything? No. Still going to shoot for it, though.

I moved up here to be close to opportunities like this one. So there that is.

Be well, folks.

A Word of Warning

To all those starry-eyed urchins who seek to move up to the big city in search of stardom and whatnot.

I have no words of advice one way or the other as to career pursuits. I'm only making my own way. However, in regards to the move itself:

It costs. Landing in a city with few friends or acquaintances; vastly, vastly outnumbered by strangers on every major street of a city that breeds indifference... Yeah. It costs.

I've been here two months. I could use some company.

Ah, To Trader Joe's!!

Tamia went grocery shopping today and took me along. When you work at home, opportunities to get out of the house are good ones. We went to Trader Joe's.

I freakin' love this place.

Just crusin' through, I saw a number of things that even I could cook, and I'm by no means culinary. (They have some pretty good lamb chops.) Still, they have good stuff. The only drawback is the subway ride, but considering the cuisine available, damn. That's good stuff.

Oh. And I got a new hat. Heh. The black fedora I've been sportin' for the last three years or so has officially been replaced.

New York, New York

I got a call this evening (rather well timed) from a friend, asking me what I was up to, tonight. She wanted to know if I was out hitting the city.

I joked that I didn't hit the city, because the city liked to hit back. It was earlier, then.

Her timing was good because I was (and remain) flat-out of things to do. There's a movie on that I haven't seen, so that's good; but it's about something I'm not mad about. Oh well. Beats all the other movies in the apartment I've seen a dozen times.

Be well, folks. What follows now is an absolute vacuum of news.

Saturday Night, And Nowhere To Go

Here it is, the prime time of the weekend, and I got nothin'. I'm trying to get over a cold, so gallivanting about in the snow is not the wisest move at this point. If I were going anywhere, it'd be to a friend's place. Two of my close (geographically and personally) friends have babies, and the last thing I want to do is share the germs. So that's out.

What's a fellow to do? Eh? Eh?

I started work last night on a novel idea (ha ha. No, seriously) that hit a speedbump in chapter two. Lots of work needs to be done to keep the premise afloat; and a plot certainly wouldn't hurt.

Anyway. Hope you're having fun, folks. Ciao.

ToyFair = Frickin' Sweet

This past weekend hosted ToyFair, the annual event that is, for all intents and purposes the Mecca of toy aficionados... like my brother.

Andy's been going to ToyFair for seven or eight years, and since I'm living in New York, I was able to come along this year. I saw more toys in one place (and other collectibles) than I ever have before. The "Look but don't touch" policy has never been harder to obey, believe me.

We met with plenty of distributors (and saw some frickin' sweet Zombie figures) and made the most of our time there. It was great to see Andy in his element-- He knows the toy market, keeps tabs on trends, and knows what consumers will be interested in. He's also great at networking, a skill I've never been able to master. Let alone entirely 'get'.

Feel free to peruse the plethora of posted pictures on his site, Millionaireplayboy.com.

It's frickin' sweet.

Happy Birthday, Bill!

Hot on the heels of his first kid, my friend Bill celebrated his birthday today. I think this makes him 25?

Bill is a terrific guy, and one of the handful of people I knew up here when I moved. I try to get over to his and Dany's place every so often, but with the addition of baby Leo I want to make sure to give 'em their space.

Happy Birthday, Bill. I hope it's a good one!

Throat Dos & Donts

Okay. Had a sore throat since last night. Grr. Not good. I still sound normal, it just hurts a bit. No fever, it's not a cold. I did find out the following things are bad for the throat. Most I knew.

1. Coffee. That one I knew.
2. Tea w/ caffiene. I thought tea was supposed to soothe, turns out I've been drinking the wrong kind. Damn.
3. Chocolate. Thank goodness I didn't break open the hot cocoa.
4. Peanuts & Peanut Butter. I was munching on peanuts earlier. Damn.
5. Eggs & dairy. I knew about dairy, but was surprised by the eggs. (When's the last time an egg surprised you?)
6. Alcohol. Also knew it was gonna be on the list.

Honey = good. So that's good.

I think I'll pour myself some Iced Tea, let it warm up a bit to room temp or something (made from decaf and fresh cut lemons) and see if I can't kick this thing's ass. Tomorrow's important, dagnabbit.

Oh, and thanks to www.sorethroatcare.com. You rock. Despite misspelling 'elixirs'.

Happy Birthday, Simon Pegg!

The star of one of my favorite movies turns 37, today. Simon Pegg was one of the minds behind Shaun of the Dead. I'm delighted that his next flick, Hot Fuzz, will be in theaters soon. The man is a frickin' genius.

Were one a zombie, lurching about in search of the choicest brains on which to sup, Pegg's would be pegged (ahah, ahah... thud) at the top of the list. Cheers, mate.

Way to not die for 365 days!!

In Other News, Woo Frickin' Hoo!!

I have a callback on Thursday for a cartoon role. No mere guest villain, but what looks to be a season-length character. The word I'm looking for is: Shazam.

Which, naturally, is just the right time to develop a sore throat. I've been feeling enflamed all evening. Crap.

The snow has sent people to the grocery store to load up on supplies for the coming days. I went out and picked up hot cocoa mix (I already have tea), lozenges, and ice cream. I'm not 100% on the medicinal properties of mint chocolate chip, but if they give it to people when their tonsils are taken out, it can't be bad, can it? That's where I'm going with it.

Huh.

It's February 10th, at 2 AM. I moved to New York two months ago; and still have moments (including tonight) where I think "What did I do?"

This shouldn't be confused with regret. Far from it. The move here was one of the best decisions I made last year.

But still. New York. It is at times overwhelming. New York...

So. There that is.

Happy Birthday, John Williams!

That's right, it's John Williams' birthday! The man is 75 today. He's also one of the greatest soundtrack composers in the history of film. His work is unforgettable.

Don't believe me? Okay. Then you must have never seen Superman, or Jaws, or Star Wars, or Raiders of the Lost Ark, or Catch Me If You Can, or Schindler's List, or Jurassic Park, or Far and Away, or E.T., or Airplane, or Dracula (1979), or the NBC Nightly News...

And Now It's Done.

Okay, folks. The big thing I was waiting to report on, is finally out in the open.

A few months ago, I was submitted for consideration for a Daytime Emmy, for Performance in an Animated Program. Namely, Pendemonium. The nominees were announced tonight. I wasn't one of them.

Was I expecting anything? No. My friend Mikiah taught me a while back that expectations will get your ass in trouble. Hopes are fine, but expectations are another story altogether.

So essentially nothing's changed.

The good news is, I had a fabulous date tonight. Dinner turned into Dinner & A Movie. It was a very pleasant surprise.

In any case; wish me luck. I have a cartoon audition tomorrow here in NYC. More to follow.

To Quote Willy Wonka...

"The suspense is terrible... I hope it lasts."

Okay. It's midnight, and I'm positively abuzz. AKA, not going to sleep yet. I find out about something big, tomorrow. One way or the other. I don't know exactly when, so that should make passing the time that much more exasperating. Sazza Fragga.

Fingers crossed, please, folks.

For Lack Of A Better Word, Tall British Yoda Is A Dick.

**Heroes Spoilers below. Y'all have been warned.**

Heroes: Great show. Brilliant stuff. Peter Petrelli, the power-leech has sought the services of Tall British Yoda, played by Ex Dr. Who Christopher Eccleston. Tall British Yoda is a recluse, enjoying his stint as an invisible man. Petrelli comes to him for help controlling his powers, over which he has none.

TBY's first theory is that Petrelli needs to stop caring about family, friends, and other loved ones. With no success in this at all, his next motivational tool is to throw Petrelli off a building. Thirty stories up. In order to get him to fly.

Dick.

Petrelli doesn't. So well. He destroys a taxi cab, impaling himself with bits of the car's top. Then he gets better. He uses a once-borrowed power to recover. Mostly.

Through completely unsafe, untried, potentially fatal means, Tall British Yoda gets results. After which he punches Peter in the face, knocking him out.

Dick.

Woo Hoo! Wish Me Luck!

I have an audition later this week with a cartoon company that shall remain nameless (for now); for a character with an Australian accent. Mwa ha ha ha ha.

I also may soon be going on my first date in a while. It'll be good to get out of the apartment for a spell.

OH-- and we're counting down to Wednesday. There may be very good news to report, or there may be nothing. In either case, that's when I'll spill the beans.

Ciao for now, folks. Be well.

Harry Potter and the Inappropriate Horseplay

The times, they are a-changin'. Seeking to break free of his most famous persona, Daniel Radcliffe is shedding the lightning scar, the glasses... and everything else.

Equus, by Peter Shaffer, tells the tale of a disturbed young man who literally worships horses. He is taken into psychiatric custody after blinding an entire stable's worth.

The play is perhaps best known for an extended nude scene, which in this case includes Radcliffe. Reaction from parents of Potter fans has been strong to say the least.

"We as parents feel Daniel should not appear nude. Our nine-year-old son looks up to him as a role model."

Question: What's Radcliffe doing wrong, exactly? He's an adult. He doesn't want to be typecast by the only role he's known for the world over. The play is extremely inappropriate for young audiences, so the kiddies likely won't be going. Not if their parents have anything to say about it. If children were able to see the play, are parents afraid their children will go out assaulting livestock while in the nude?

They seemed to have little problem with Radcliffe casting magic spells, running away from home, ignoring and lying to authority figures, breaking school rules, playing with swords and oh yes, killing teachers.

Concerned parents (likely Americans) have promised to boycott Radcliffe's future movies. To which I have to say: Yeah. Right. Parents wishing to stop their children from seeing Harry Potter movies would have an easier time preventing the sun from rising. It is a force of nature. As the sun will come up, so will children watch Harry Potter.

Just sayin'.

Why Showbiz Occasionally Sucks

Hark argle fark sazza fragga. The preceding nonsense was an attempt to voice my frustration with this whole line of business. There's no business like Show Business.

No business I know.

Please don't get me wrong-- I love this line of work. Acting, Voice-overs, I'm happiest when I'm working. It's a great, fulfilling career to be pursuing. Very much so.

It's just that every few days, or every few weeks, a potential gig will pop up that becomes an immediate priority. Like a group of ducks on a pond, every part of the brain homes in on that soggy little bread crumb of an opportunity.

The job sounds promising, interesting, and something I think I would be great for.

Someone just tossed in another bread crumb.

My vexation is not that these opportunities pop up. My vexation is that once I've done everything I can to secure said gig, I have to completely forget about it and move on to something else. In this line of work we rarely-if-ever receive notices that we didn't get the gig.

I can take rejection. I've failed to get far more jobs in this line o' work than I've grabbed.

It's the waiting. It's the not knowing. The one-two slap on the back of the head from them drives me up the frickin' wall.

So. Need to find something else to focus on for a bit. Whatever that will be.

*twiddles thumbs*

... Dang.

How Many Can You Get?

Heather pointed me towards this nifty intelligence test. 33 brief little codes to figure out.

I was able to work out 26. How many can you get?

It's The First Of The Month

Bunny, Bunny.