The Califloridian

2010 FTW

Sound out the title.

I’m looking forward to the exploits and misadventures of this new year, and this new decade. Started the year off with Black Eyed Peas (a good old Southern tradition) though this was Fergie’s crew, not the hearty culinary item. But whatever, superstitions have some room for flexibility. Trust me, I had to dismantle our Christmas tree and put it in the garage, because it was bad luck to carry it over into the New Year in our house. As though the garage was some sort of suburban Casablanca and refuge for the superstitious powers that be.

Some resolution talk, the goal is to have a feature-length script finished and in the editing phase around August at the latest, preferably the Summer. Come August I should be packing my bags and riding out the old fashioned way along I-10 to Los Angeles, the city of angels and entertainment dreams. Chances are you could find me at an In-And-Out Burger serving you up some sarcasm Animal-Style instead of in a producer’s office talking about proposed changes to some magnum opus in my portfolio. But that’s okay with me. It’s a fantastic city and I look forward to spending the latter half of 2010 there with family and close friends and memories that will never be replaced.

I’m also working on some other projects, constantly writing to keep my wits and craft finely honed and sharpened so I have the best shot imaginable, and keep persevering in the face of absolute pessimism and rejection. Such is the creative life.

That’s this update. In other news, practicing a lot of guitar lately, and have a few more songs written and in the bank. No one cares, but I figured I’d share for posterity’s sake. Peace from Panama City, Florida, January 1st, 2010.

Them Crooked Vultures

It’s been a little while, but I’ve been busy writing and editing as per the usual.

In the meantime I’ve been diving headlong into the delightfully twisted world of Them Crooked Vultures, the latest supergroup to follow in the footsteps of Chickenfoot.

For the record, Chickenfoot is comprised of Joe Satriani (guitar legend), Chad Smith (Red Hot Chili Peppers drummer), and Michael Anthony and Sammy Hagar (of Van Halen fame).

Them Crooked Vultures teams of a dangerous threesome in the likes of John Paul Jones (Led Zeppelin, not nautical fame), Josh Homme (of Queens of the Stone Age and sometimes Eagles of Death Metal), and the venerable Dave Grohl (Nirvana and more recently Foo Fighters).

Each instrument rips through the air and Homme’s singing morphs from high falsetto creepiness to deep bellowing hallows. The drumming is par none, and explodes with every strike, and the desert-bum guitar twirls through the night air like a surreal gypsy dance.  Unfortunately, at least for me, Jones’ bass playing is mostly unheard over the intenseness of his fellow performers, but at least one song includes a three minute long John Paul Jones keyboard solo which simply pulls your own boot off to kick your own ass with it.

Check  it out if you get the opportunity.

North Cackalackee

The Califloridian finds himself in neither of his self-imposed titular states. He is slightly north…a least a little further than South Carolina at that.

I’m writing from a small MacBook Pro in the mountains of Cashiers, North Carolina (pronounced Cash-ers to the locals, not like money handlers at retail establishments). I’ve been slightly whittling away at some of the smaller nuances of my latest feature length script, one I hope to have finished in first draft form in roughly a month and a half, long enough that I can do a quick rewrite before submitting to some producers at Escape Artists Productions, the crew behind “Knowing”, “A Knight’s Tale”, and “The Taking of Pelham 123”.

Chances are, while scaling the treacherous and unforgiving crags of the Hollywood mountain, I’ll discover like adventurous screenwriters before me that your first 8 scripts don’t count. And spec scripts are themselves a slippery, tricky business.  But I don’t really care, if I get a chance to let some readers at Escape Artists read my screenplay I’ll at least have made it further than your average joe who thinks he can crap out 120 pages of gold.

Part of my motivation for this little month long writing spree is a recent writer’s conference I attended at the University of North Florida over this nice quaint little summer. Three days, I got to participate in a screenwriter’s workshop and read some local writer’s work and have them hound over mine. Nothing’s more delightful than listening to other writer’s pander how awful your writing is. But in such constructive ways, of course. The life of a writer is a lonely self-imposed exile into our own imaginations and the very recesses of our souls. The vulnerability and inevitable dread of criticism and outside opinions is both feared and awaited with adrenaline fueled excitement.

Personally I now relish in the words and viewpoints of my peers, their own creative attitudes crafted carefully over decades of exile and lonely determination are now shaped and sculpted into valuable weapons of truth to help us figure out the honest-to-God  souls of our very own works.

If you ever get a chance to participate in writer’s workshop or a group criticism, take it.

It’s been a while since I’ve taken journalistic classes and formal training, and as you can plainly see I ramble like a crazy person.

So I’ll stop it.