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Having lost much of the last 24 – and foreseeably much of the next 24 – to a stomach bug my son brought home, I am pressed to find the bright side, but at least I’ve done some reading.

The Scott-recommended trade paperback of the first story arc of Ex Machina was quite good. I can’t really qualify it as revisionist, but it is certainly one of the finest super-hero-in-the-real-world stories to cross my gaze in some time. Michael Hundred gains the power to talk to and control machines through a bizarre (and as yet unexplained) accident, tries his hand at being a superhero, and finds out his vigilantism causes more problems and pain than it solves. So of course he runs for mayor of New York City and wins. The story is a blend of West Wing-style politics, mystery, and even a touch of derring-do. And the end of issue one remains one of the most stunning images I’ve seen in some time.

As for the Nathan-recommended Walking Dead – uhhhhhh, I found Volume 2, but not Volume 1, and something tells me I want to read this from the beginning. Hopefully my comics store will have restocked by the time I return.

I’ve made an effort to read a, you know, actual book, the thick things with no pictures. I cheated and chose a piece of fiction, trying to hit at least a couple of chapters a day. The bug has allowed me to plow through more than half, and the fact that the book is a delightfully dark little oddity called Darkly Dreaming Dexter, by Jeff Linday, has made this task very easy. Told in the first person by a serial killer who specializes in killing other serial killers, Dexter is by and large surprisingly light in tone, giving us a monster who is perfectly at ease with his own monstrosity, but befuddled by simple human emotions. Dexter is a blood splatter analyst working in the forensics unit of Miami Dade, and string of bizarre killings seem to speak to him on a killer-to-killer level that fascinates him, and is putting him at risk of discovery of his “hobby”. Now in the final quarter of the book, I’m afraid the mechanics of the plot are starting to get a little transparent, but it’s been a fun ride.

Somewhere in there, I finished the review of Challenge of the Super Friends, Season One.

And now excuse me, the bathroom calls…

May 4, 2005
Categories: Life's Rich Pageant . . Author: drfreex . Comments: 3 Comments

“What I’m concerned about is getting from the cinematics into the games.”

“Well, that’s Freeman’s department.”

“You mean the games that haven’t been invented yet.”

“I’m sure that your transitions will give us some sort of indicator of where to go.”

“In other words, you want me to take you from Point A to Point B without having any idea of where Point B is even located.”

“That’s your genius.”

(Lengthy pause)

“Do I have to start shooting you guys?”

April 20, 2005
Categories: Life's Rich Pageant . . Author: drfreex . Comments: 3 Comments

1. Sleep.

2. Read a book.

3. Watch a movie.

4. Play City of Heroes for 18 hours straight.

5. Catch up on correspondence.

6. Shop for groceries.

7. Clean home office – that path to the door just doesn’t cut it anymore.

8. It seems you have a wife. This bears investigation.

9. That kid running around may also be yours, too.

or

10. Work on your taxes.

…

Stoopid gummint.

April 10, 2005
Categories: Life's Rich Pageant . . Author: drfreex . Comments: 4 Comments

As Beckoning Chasm points out, this has become the blog equivalent of the second season of Twin Peaks, with unresolved cliffhangers aplenty, and your protagonist seemingly trapped inside the Black Lodge, apparently incommunicado for all eternity. (Add to this the fact that Blogger has now lost this lengthy post twice.)

Yeah. Well. Here is how it goes in my little life:

The video game project is the Energizer Bunny of my professional side – it just keeps going and going. This current phase can’t go on too long, as the production end has postponed their phase twice now and made it clear they are not doing so again. Presentation of the (almost but not quite) final scripts was made to the folks at Baylor Friday, and they judged it good, with a few minor tweaks.

I still have a ton of ancillary material to write, but the part of the project that ate enormous gouts of my time like Saturn consuming his children appears to be just about over (haven’t I said that before?).

Now, a year ago, as I was wrapping up my direction of a stage adaptation of Henry and Ramona, I was asked to commit to directing another children’s play, this time a musical version of Judy Blume’s Superfudge in a year. A year from now? I replied. I have no idea what I’m doing a year from now. I may not even be alive. Oh come onnnnnnnnnn, was the rejoinder. Oh, well, the game project will be over by then, and I’ll need the money. Sure.

So. Juggling three creative endeavors (time to revisit the first video game project, apparently) at one time. And, oh yes, I’m performing at church again tomorrow. Not Satan this time. I’m Doubting Thomas (which is also stunningly apropos). I feel the creative card in my brain overheating.

The net result of all this, of course, is dropped balls. There is a phone call to a producer I was supposed to return last month. I haven’t. I hope that number is still on a piece of paper somewhere on my desk. There is, in my home office, a cleared path from the door to my desk. There’s a CD I burned for a friend, sitting next to my computer, making mock of the fact it hasn’t made it to the post office yet. I still have to do my taxes.

I used to watch a movie a day. I’ve watched one movie in the last two months. Well, and some episodic TV, to unwind after a long night at the computer.

The ones that hurt, though, are the balls that drop simply because they are not paying gigs or family-related. The pixels you are staring at now is one of those. The archiving of reviews at the B-Masters site is fitful at best. I’ve barely poked my head into the B-Movie Message Board – thank God there are three other moderators. The Bad Movie Report hasn’t seen an update since November of last year. The one that rankles the most, however, is Attack of the 50 Foot DVD, for which I do receive remuneration of a sort. Given a day, I could do something there.

I’m not being given a day.

So for all of you who read this – both of you – that is the cluttered, hectic state of my life. It’s nice to have a brain that everybody wants, at least for the moment, but it would be nice to spread that evenly over the bread of my life instead of having it sit in one cold lump in the middle.

It’s not that I don’t love you anymore – but you knew what you were getting into when you married a cop.

April 2, 2005
Categories: Life's Rich Pageant . . Author: drfreex . Comments: 4 Comments

In the Land of Getting What You Wished For, I have been living in the busy metropolis of Be Careful. I recall mentioning briefly that I left town for B-Fest with a project already behind schedule, but that was okay, as that particular part of the project wasn’t my responsibility.

Which, of course, meant that on my return, it became my responsibility. I’ve been churning out a full script every three and a half days since, while attempting to cover all other bases. This is completely antithetical to the way I usually work – when I scripted my original share of the project back in November, I already had story and character arcs worked out and knew precisely where each episode had to begin and end. This time around, I am working from fairly dense prose versions of each episode, so I’m not only wearing the writer hat, but the editor and the production manager hats as well (those grandiose nightmare scenes had to go – Spielberg would have had trouble affording them).

So I was operating about 18 hours a day and, of course, left myself wide open for The Crud (which appears to be the official medical name for the malady, since that’s what everyone calls it), which put me another week behind. There was a quick side trip to Silver Lining City, though, since the director used that to push his production date back, which he had been kvetching about in private for some time.

One more to go, then an intense period of rewriting, since, you know, scripts aren’t written. They’re rewritten.

In other news: the tests are over, and have confirmed what we suspected: my son is ADHD, and starts medication today. Hopefully, this will alleviate the intense feelings of frustration and anger he experiences when he can’t deal with things like reading and writing, that everyone else seems to find so simple. The testing also showed that otherwise, he’s operating on a level 4-5 years over his age, or, as the diagnostician put it, “He’d be President if the President didn’t have to sign his name.”

I really should also mention, before I submerge again, that he’s been at a special school for dyslexic children this year, and the improvements have been dramatic. I point to this with no small pride, as one of the founders of this school is my wife, and it’s starting to receive some very positive attention.

Now I have to hyperventilate, hold my breath, and dive! Dive!

March 4, 2005
Categories: Life's Rich Pageant . . Author: drfreex . Comments: 4 Comments

I have to look at it this way – very few people get typecast as Satan and then get to write their own speeches.

I also now know the answer to “What happens when you work yourself into a state of fatigue, don’t eat right, and constantly forget to take your vitamins, because you’re not as young as you used to be, you know.” (Wait, that ended up not being a question…)

Somewhere in there, with the illness and the work, I sacrificed a morning to the god of parenthood, being interviewed by a diagnostician to determine if my son is truly ADD or if I’m just old and curmudgeonly. We already know he’s dyslexic, so I’m leaning toward the “I’m not that old” end of the equation.

B-Fest reminisces must return soon, before I forget them entirely.

And, oh yeah, you can blame my pal Dave for pointing out to me – repeatedly and relentlessly – that City of Heroes was on sale at Best Buy.

February 21, 2005
Categories: Life's Rich Pageant . . Author: drfreex . Comments: 8 Comments

Sorry, no, I won’t be putting on the striped shirt and goofy stocking cap so you can pick me out from the crowded landscape.

As I think I have explained before in these hallowed pixels, I am a sap and a sucker. Truth to tell, I find the “Help me, Obi-wan, you’re my only hope” gambit nigh irresistible, and thus I have found myself jumping about far more than my considerable mass should allow.

First the dinner theater from which I resigned last summer called me up for several Valentine’s Day weekend shows they had booked, as apparently I was the only actor who knew the part. Yes, I’ve been gone for seven months, and no one has stuck around long enough to learn that role. Actors have apparently been jumping ship while management continuously misses the Clue Express. I have to look at it this way: this return to the boards will pay off last month’s trip to B-Fest.

Then I realize I had also agreed to perform at church Sunday; the church has done a lot for us when times were desperately bad, so when they ask, I generally agree. Then I realized this was mixed in with the theater gigs – very little sleep between Saturday’s show and early morning Sunday service.

This is no way postponed my deadline today for another completed script. Finished that off at 3am last night, This morning. Whatever. Then up at 7am to take family to school, attempt to get a little sleep before the 1pm meeting, only to be foiled by the Power Pug Princess noisily demanding her walkies.

And I still have a show tonight. Yes, though I specifically noted that I one of the reasons I was retiring was to by-God spend significant holidays with my wife – I have a show tonight. I might get to leave early, after my character is killed. The curtain call ain’t that important in dinner theater.

So I’m a little tired. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.

February 14, 2005
Categories: Life's Rich Pageant . . Author: drfreex . Comments: 2 Comments

What a nice Christmas.

So what if the snow barely held onto the ground long enough for presents to be unwrapped? So what if, in defiance of the natural order of things, we actually had to wake my son up, instead of vice versa? (Mom couldn’t wait any longer and dogpiled him at 8 a.m.) So what if the winter wonderland has given way to 65 degree afternoons and 25 degree nights? (Superb flu weather)

Indeed. So what?

It was our first Christmas at home, our first Christmas composed of just us, our cat and the Power Pug Princess (who also had tiny stockings full of Pounce and a rawhide bone, respectively. Santa is an equal opportunity giver). Surprisingly peaceful and fulfilling, as Lisa and I just sat there, watching Max figure out which toy to play with next.

I’d had a good year – finally – good enough to actually get Max the things he wanted and Lisa the things she didn’t know she wanted. I’ve had quite a bit to be thankful for this year, and if I wasn’t properly thankful for them last month, at Thanksgiving, well, I’m a born procrastinator.

Now it’s time to haul all these boxes and trash bags full of balled-up wrapping paper to the curb; time to get back to work. Time to fix another turkey sandwich as I knuckle back down at the computer. I hope you had a good one. I did, and I ain’t apologizin’.

December 27, 2004
Categories: Life's Rich Pageant . . Author: drfreex . Comments: 1 Comment

Ees a meerkul!

December 24, 2004
Categories: Life's Rich Pageant . . Author: drfreex . Comments: Leave a comment

Some nutcase says that Wolfowitz is going to detonate a nuclear payload in Houston on Dec. 27 to consolidate Bush’s mandate and justify the upcoming invasion of Iran. But never mind that…

Horrors! The mercury apparently topped off at 37 degrees today, so Houstonians were complaining about the bitter cold and bundling up against the sub-Arctic excess. Me, I was perfectly comfortable with my hooded sweatshirt and leather cap. But we get to wear our heavy coats so rarely in this clime, people can’t be blamed for trotting them out at the slightest provocation.

Tonight is scheduled to be the coldest of this snap, getting down to somewhere in the high 20s, with the slightest chance – maybe as much as 30%, depending on who you listen to – of a snow flurry. Still, this is nothing compared to what other parts of the country are experiencing; but I’m still giddy over the prospect of that storybook Christmas morning, fire in the fireplace, snow on the ground.

Well, it’s still Houston, so any snow that arrives will look very pretty coming down, then melt immediately. The crackling logs next to my easy chair will quite do nicely, thank you. After all, we have a saying around here: “You don’t have to shovel humidity.”

The interesting thing is, I was checking our extended forecast at The Weather Channel, and it seems the day after Christmas, temperatures will be back up to the more seasonal upper 60s. Maybe I didn’t need to lay in all that firewood after all.

Maybe a cold snap lasting just long enough for me to have a fire on Christmas morning doesn’t really count as a Yuletide Miracle, but heck, I’ll take what I can get, and be grateful for it.

That’s enough for now. See you on the other side of the holiday. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and may God bless us all, every one.

December 23, 2004
Categories: Life's Rich Pageant . . Author: drfreex . Comments: Leave a comment