So, this is a big deal: 

The Relentless Award. 

TL: DR; a playwright can win $45K. That's forty-five-thousand US dollars. No playwriting contest has had this big of a cash award. 

But wait! THERE'S MORE! 

The winning playwright also gets a week at an artists' retreat in upstate NY, which they can attend alone, or, bring a director, dramaturg and/or actors. They have the option of having the play published by Dramatists' Play Service (a very big deal) and the play gets a reading at regional theatres across the country, including The Wilma and The Goodman. As far as opportunities for playwrights go, it is a Golden Ticket. 

How can such a lucrative, prestigious, and useful thing exist? 

So, here's the tragicomic part. 

When Philip Seymour Hoffman died, his friend David Bar Katz was the first person to find him. In the days that followed, The National Enquirer published a story claiming that Katz (or is it Bar Katz?) a) was Hoffman's secret lover, and, b)was supplying PSH with drugs.  Neither of which were true.

Katz is a playwright, best known for his collaboration with John Leguizamo on Freak and House of Buggin'. In Philly, he's mostly known for being the fortunate son of a really rich guy. He did what any smart fortunate son would do, and sued the crap out of the Enquirer. Actually, he just signed a libel suit, there was a settlement, and Katz, wisely, used the money to create this playwriting award. 

I can't think of a better way to memorialize (?) a friend. or to get revenge. 

Details here: Truth and a Prize Emerge from Lies About Hoffman. 

Last night I started playing some songs from Sweeney Todd for Archer, and he discovered that one of the lullabies his mother has been singing to him since he was an infant is actually from a show about murder and cannibalism.  Boy was he surprised!

Also, I asked him who he thought wrote Sweeney Todd, and he immediately said, "Stephen Sondheim."  If you hear enough Sondheim, you know when you're hearing Sondheim - there's this witty recetative that he puts in a lot of his songs that's a fingerprint, you can't miss it.  I love the word 'recetative'.

Here's NPH singing it to Patti LuPone (eeee!).  I can't wait to show Archer this one when he comes home from school.

No news is good news?

Yeah, so I've been negligent for a while now. Sorry about that.

Things have been good. Really good. I'm going to Japan. I keep having to tell myself that because it hasn't really sunk in yet.

For those who don't know - this is huge for me. I started looking into ninjutsu as a martial art when I was young. Maybe when I was... 15? Anyway - that sparked a desire to go to the land of the rising sun that wouldn't leave me. Ever.

Thing is, I'm not a guy who really expects to be able to do much. My financial resources have always been woefully stretched, I spent most of my life pretty solidly planted in a single locale, and I just always thought of Japan as a kind of dreamscape - a place on the map labeled hic sunt dracones.

And now I'm going to go. For a month. With my best bud.

While I'm still 'in town' (even that has come to mean something entirely different for me - currently in Jacksonville Florida) I've been training a new recruit - Tanner. He's not going to be doing my job - he's going to be supporting it. I'm showing him the ropes so he knows what it's like for us out in the field before he starts supporting us.

Kid's smart. He's funny as fuck. He's 'our people' - completely our people.

So really, this has been like hanging out with one of my beloved PhilaDel pholks and getting paid to do so. He understands when I explain things to him - the first time. He can repeat it pretty much flawlessly after the second.

While I know that isn't all that goes into being a good support person, I'm happy to know he will be supporting us.

Did I mention that I'm going to Japan? For a month?

Which brings me to another point: I'm nervous as hell.

Those of you who know me can appreciate that I don't get nervous much. You might say that I'm too much of a buddhist, I guess. I figure there's not much point in worrying about what might be. Just prepare as best you reasonably can and go with it.

For the record, it's not really true. I do stress. A lot. I just usually manage it - at least on the surface. I've seen what happens when person A is stressing out and person B fuels the fire by also stressing while in close proximity. It's the wildfire with a tank of gasoline. I would much rather be a calming influence when I can.

But in this case? I'm openly freaking the fuck out. I've been doing a lot of homework. I've been polling friends and family who are in the know about Japan (despite the fact that Mark will be there for a large portion of my time). I've read countless web pages. I've learned about flight plans and rail schedules and cities and towns. I've studied for this more than any other single adventure in my life.

And I feel like I know nothing.

I won't speak the native language. That's a hurdle. In the end though, I will probably pick up enough to survive (generally speaking). The real thing that is worrying me is that I won't be able to read the language. That's a problem since I don't like interacting with people when I need help.

It's not the 'typical male' thing. I'm not a proud man. I just really like to understand my situation as best I can, and that happens (more often than not) by reading.

Reading the nearby signage. Reading the expressions and body language of the people around me. Reading... anything and everything.

I won't be able to do that as a stranger in that strange land.

I've grown too comfortable in my travels thus far, and I know it. When I find I don't have something I need, I can just 'stop somewhere and pick it up'. Difference in Japan? I'll be a giant. A fat giant no less. Who can't read the signs. I'm actually a bit fearful that I will be a perfect example of a fat dumb gaijin. I do not want to be a (bad) archetype.

I recognize that at this point I'm just rambling on about my stress, and that's not productive, so I'll stop.

Suffice to say: I'm only bringing my two bags of worldly possessions and that feels a little like grabbing the first backpack you see and jumping off that nearby cliff - hoping that the backpack holds a parachute.

My editor chose two of the articles I wrote for the weekly newspaper, Bethlehem Press, to send to the Keystone contest. It's a contest for local papers of all sizes - while I write features (and cover the occasional meeting), it's rare that I generate a ton that are deemed "recognition-worthy" but I'm super proud because one article featured Migraine Awareness and the other featured a great school, Mercy Learning Center, which works with differently abled kids.  

Anne Mollo recently posted an entry including the "What Taking My Daughter to a Comic Book Store Taught Me" link, and the ensuing snottiness of person B. And it's also popping up in my feed in that other social media site. (Aside: I sometimes think comments are the bane of all happiness. Still I read them, even when I know better.)

And it has me thinking - in the shower of course, where I do my best work - I see a lot of stuff lately about girls needing more female role models/heroes they can identify with. And across the years, posts on <insert socio-ethnic-racial group here> needing more <insert socio-ethnic-racial group here> role models/heroes they can identify with. 

And I think to myself: do I want my kid picking only female role models/heroes? And only nominally white ones at that? No, I don't. What am I missing here?

Ideally, I want a pantheon of role models available, representative of all the cultures, creeds, orientations, for kids to choose. I don't want the kid pigeoned holed into choosing only ones that are most-like-her. But life isn't ideal. We work to make it better, but we play the cards we're dealt. Possibly I have this mindset because I didn't have any Half-Paki, Half-German Female Engineer role models in my life?

My shower musing turns to: there is usually an incumbent (cue dissertation on privilege). Railing at that fact doesn't do much to bring more light. Denying that fact is generally ignorance or assholery.  Adding more options, that is a path I support. Meanwhile, I will tend my own garden. 

“There is a concatenation of all events in the best of possible worlds; for, in short,

• had you not been kicked out of a fine castle for the love of Miss Cunegund;
• had you not been put into the Inquisition;
• had you not travelled over America on foot;
• had you not run the baron through the body;
• and had you not lost all your sheep, which you brought from the good country of El Dorado,

you would not have been here to eat preserved citrons and pistachio nuts.” “Excellently observed,” answered Candide; “but let us take care of our garden" -- Voltaire (bullets added by me for readability)

Day 13, rest day.  Check!

day 14 is suppose to be 90 secs. I put it off all day. Finially, full on ice cream and shoeless just before bed, i gave it a go. And gave up at 64 secs. 

Day 14 again - this time I blew it off completely. 

Day 14 again - first thing in the morning (shoeless again, but at least an empty stomach), I made it to 80sec. And wow, that hard. I'll keep at it.

while I wasn't working or planking, I was painting this:

Hi all.

I'm sorry to be a lazy jerk by pasting a link to my LiveJournal, but I'm working on barely any sleep and don't feel like reformatting everything. So if you'll kindly meet me over there to learn how you can rock the vote to help out your favorite dork rock power duo, I'd really appreciate it.

Muchas gracias!

Jill-o

I have nothing exciting to impart, other than that I was listening to Slate's Working podcast today, and they had an episode that I thought might be of interest to some folks who can read this. 

Working is a podcast about the typical workday of people who work in different fields- porn stars, perfumers, other professions that don't start with a P.  Anyway, they interviewed one of the guys from They Might Be Giants about the typical workday of a rock band guitarist.  Okay, that link sucks, because it asks you to log into Slate for a 2-week free trial. However, you can go to iTunes or wherever you get your podcasts and find it as well. 

I'm glad that either this guy has a guitar tech, or he chose not to go into 25 minutes of talking about pedal board setup and restringing.  His answer to the question, "How do you get up the energy to play Birdhouse In Your Soul/Don't Let's Start/Particle Man again after umpteen years of playing it?" made me happy. 

It's also interesting to consider that their kid concerts seem to be paying off in an audience for their non-kid-concerts that's younger than they expected. Maybe making a kids' album or two isn't such a bad investment after all. 

We were asked by The Dead Milkmen to record their new song with them. We said yes!  Here's a link to the backstory over on the Hot Breakfast! blog.

The recording process was live-streamed on YouTube for two days as part of Weathervane Music's Shaking Through documentary series. We recorded on Saturday, and all the mixing happened on Sunday, along with the listening party.

This YouTube clip (below) should open right to the portion of the video where we unveil the song. You won't hear any of the room noise; I believe the YouTube live feed was coming straight outta the board at this point.  (If the video starts from the top, then FFW over to 4:37:39.)  

That's me singing all three vocal parts in the "folky section" that starts the tune (and happens two other times in the song); Matt is playing acoustic underneath in those sections, too. (Matt sets up his acoustic guitars down around 6:44:00, and starts recording his parts at 6:55:00)  The Milkmen gave me the lyrics and chords, and I wrote the melody and did the 3-part vocal arrangement. They put a lotta reverb on my voice (though the song isn't fully mixed yet, so I think they're gonna take some out), but if you wanna watch me laying down the vocal tracks (for the most part, they were once-and-done'ers), here's a link to Saturday's session. (I record my vocals around 7:04:33 to 7:29:00.)

I still have to pinch myself when I listen to this. That's really my voice. That's really Matt's guitar. That's really the Dead Milkmen, who I've idolized since 1986. That's a long friggin' time. 

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta^H^H^H^H dork rocker.

10 - 60 sec plank before bed on the hard cold hotel floor

X - well I had one of those too damn busy days again - from oversleeping and rushing out of my hotel to catch a ride to work at 7am to walking in the door at 11pm I literally had no time/place to plank. I guess I could have found a spot in the airport, but it was pretty crazy. At by 11pm Planking was not a priority. Collapsing into bed was all I was up to.

10a - repeated 60s of day 10. My feet seriously objected.

11 - another 60 seconds, this time at the local park's playground - yes it is near freezing out, but kids gotta play. So we went out for some running around time. And I planked on one of the flat areas. And hey, with shoes on, it doesn't hurt the feet! Doh. 

12  - so I put it off all day. Afraid of the 90 seconds. I got me excuses - too full, no shoes on, gotta make swords, and armor. But yay! Just finished my first 90 second plank! Woot! I think I'll reward myself with my first beer of the year.