Now the foot’s on the other shoe
A one-man show for an audience of two
Now the foot’s on the other shoe
A one-man show for an audience of two
My apologies for the tardiness of this post. Yes, I realize no one was waiting for me to write this.
I saw a really wonderful film called The Beaver Trilogy Part IV at the Midwest Independent Film Festival. Let me back up.
It was probably 10 years ago or so when I saw the movie The Beaver Trilogy. I have no recollection how I learned about it or the local screening I attended. Maybe it was a Critic’s Choice in the Chicago Reader at the time? It was a free screening, and wasn’t at a movie theater. I saw the movie at Columbia College, in downtown Chicago.
I had no expectations. It is a strange movie. It contains three short movies tied together, hence the “trilogy” of the title. The first part is a documentary about “Groovin’ Gary”. The next two movies are fictionalized retellings of the first, along with scenes that would be considered “behind-the-scenes” of the first part.
It’s on YouTube. Pleeeeeease watch it. It’s wonderful.
Okay, have you watched it? Pretty amazing, huh?
I know there is a “wow” factor for the 2nd and 3rd parts of the movie, in that the respective leads in each movie would go on to become famous for other roles. Sure, that’s cool. But what struck me so much was what I felt when I watched it. I felt so much empathy for Groovin’ Gary. He was goofy, but genuine, ambitious, naive, sincere.
You don’t get the full story of Groovin’ Gary, at least not directly from him. The 2nd and 3rd parts of the trilogy have an event which takes place that may or may not be fiction. Did it happen? One strong impression that I got from this movie was that the filmmaker was a little haunted by his brief encounter with Gary. There was self-criticism and empathy from him in equal measure.
I only watched The Beaver Trilogy one time, but it stayed with me, for years.
Okay, so I used to volunteer a lot at the Midwest Film Festival. It’s on the first Tuesday of every month, showing films having some kind of midwestern connection. I thought I’d volunteer for the April screening. HOWEVER, I learned that something called “The Beaver Trilogy Part IV” would be playing. Whoa! I learned later it had played Sundance the year prior, but this was the first time I was aware of it. I HAD TO SEE IT. Maybe I’d get some of the questions I had answered!
I learned when I got to the theater that the director of the original Trilogy, Trent Harris, had not directed Part IV. I was a little bummed, but hopeful. What unfolded in Part IV was both a heartfelt tribute to the original Beaver Trilogy, to the original Groovin’ Gary (real name Richard Griffiths), and to Trilogy’s filmmaker Trent Harris himself. It was a great, affectionate, warm movie. I loved it. I had my questions answered, and I was so glad I got to see it.
The film’s director, Brad Besser, actually flew in for the screening. I was able to talk to him afterwards. He was gracious and friendly, and it was obvious this was a movie he made with all his heart. Also, I learned from him, it was likely he who was partially responsible for the original Beaver Trilogy movie being screened at Columbia College — he was a student of Columbia at the time, and pushed hard for a screening of the film. He wanted other people to see it.
So thanks, Mr. Besser, for showing me the first Trilogy, and double-triple-quadruple thanks for making Part IV. THANK YOU.
I don’t know if I can throw any traffic Mr. Besser’s way, but please, order the movie and watch it. It’s on VOD, it’s on iTunes. Besser, Trent Harris, and most of all, Groovin’ Gary, deserve it.
Trailer for Part IV: There is a link to buy the movie on YouTube. You can also search for the film on iTunes and purchase it there.
So, I ventured forth tonight in search of popcorn, caffeine, and a movie.
What were my choices at the lovely LaGrange Theater?
Nah, didn’t want to see it. I saw this already. It was pretty good. I didn’t mind it. It was okay. I was not offended or horrified. It wasn’t bad.
No, don’t know much about it, didn’t really wanna see it. Hey, Disney — Mark Wahlberg and John C. Reilly and George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg called (Mark Wahlberg forgot he called the first time). They want their mediocre storm movie from the 2000s that I never saw back.
I will probably will see this, because Brad Pitt wears glasses and has a beard. Plus, I hate greed and corporations. And how interesting does Brad Pitt look, anyways? He looks like he could teach an art class at a local community college. Still, not going to see this movie today.
Tonight, I wanted to see a 3-hour movie that didn’t start until 9:00pm on a Tuesday evening. Yes, I am talking about…
I thought there were a fair amount of hats in the movie, but not enough to warrant the title “Hatful”. Still, I liked the subtle nod to the Smiths record, as well as Kurt Russell’s character name Johnny Marr.
Speaking of subtle nods, I counted some of them.
No, I didn’t look up #5 on some trivia page on the IMDB. I have the soundtrack to John Carpenter’s The Thing on COMPACT DISC. I *RECOGNIZED* that song.
So, there are some hats in the movie. And also, some hateful people. I really don’t know how I’m supposed to have a lot of compassion or even interest for people that I find exceedingly unpleasant. I didn’t really care about anyone. Everyone was loud, annoying, and violent. I imagine I would have a similar experience if I ever took up Quentin Tarantino’s offer to play paintball with him and Eli Roth in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Not gonna happen, fellas.
This felt good. I blogged. I did it. If you’ll allow me one humorous gif I did not create, hey, Immortan Joe, what did you think of this, the 8th movie of Quentin Tarantino?
My friend Andy asked me to put together some new music for our web series “Barry and the Setbacks”.
I’m not sure if he’ll want to use this or not, but it was fun making it.
As always, enjoy! Or don’t!
Person A: Hey, what’s Scooby Doo’s favorite style of fashion?
Person B: I don’t know. What?
Person A: Retro!
Person B: Ha! But… you know, Scooby Doo doesn’t wear clothes. He’s a dog.
Person A: Maybe he’s more of a fashion appreciator.
Person B: Sure, good point.
I like connecting with people. My initial steps into the social media world (Twitter, mostly) were enjoyable in a lot of ways. I connected with funny and nice people I wouldn’t have known otherwise. That seems to be what does it for me — funny, nice. I feel better about things, about the world, when I am around people like that.
This initial group of people I interacted with felt like a community, at least for a short while. I miss that part of it. Yes, we’re around, but we’re not really glued together in any meaningful way.
Twitter is a weird beast to me, and has been for a couple years. It’s like having the radio on in the background. It’s a station you have chosen to dial into, but one you actively listen to intermittently, and often times aren’t paying particularly close attention to at all. Every once in a while you catch something on the periphery of your senses, and zero in, and maybe even briefly engage with a person or a group of people.
It’s not an enriching experience for me. But can it be?
My life is busy, and so are all your lives. That we don’t connect, or that I don’t feel a part of something, is just something I feel, and really no one’s problem but my own.
But, I can choose how I interact with people, and here’s where we get to my idea. I think it’s probably a bad idea. But here it is.
What could be the result of this?
Other potential side-effects:
My non sequiturs normally thrown out into common space might come across strangely to a singled-out user.
“Why are you telling me this, and what, exactly, is this?”
So, this project… How would I feel if someone picked me out, and someone did this P2P thing to me?
Man, I don’t know. It could be nice. It could be annoying. It could be a little creepy. It could be all three.
I guess you can choose me for your own P2P project and we’ll see what happens.
New episode of Barry and the Setbacks — Barry Teaches Baseball.
Man goes to doctor, complains of uncontrollable, dark depression. “I’ve tried everything, doctor. Medication, meditation, light therapy. Nothing works. I’m full of despair.”
Doctor says, “The answer is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town. Go see his performance. He will lift your spirits and make you forget your troubles.”
The man buries his head in his hands. “But…” the man says. “*I* am Pagliacci.”
“Really?” the doctor asks.
The man perks up. “Nahhhh. I’m just kidding. But how fucking crazy would that be, huh?!! Super fucking crazy, right?!”
“We don’t use that word here, sir,” the doctor replies.
“Crazy. But yes, the f-word is not really welcome here, either.”
“Do you have any tickets to Pagliacci?” the man asks.
“I do, but my wife and I are going. Sir, are you even depressed?” the doctor asks.
“Please get out of my office.”
Sometimes I forget things I have written. Three years ago, I apparently had a bug up my butt to write several very groan-inducing shaggy dog stories over a series of tweets. Well, #ShaggyDogStoryEndingWithASomewhatObscureSitcomActress tweets, to be precise.
I was amused enough with three-years-ago me (sad, isn’t it?) that I decided to collect the tweets into a post.
Enjoy! And I’m sorry!
The Candy Collector’s Convention kickoff event was in two hours, and Irma realized her Snickers custom t-shirt didn’t fit any more. Without some form of candy-related article of clothing, she’d be the laughingstock of the CCC! She called her friend Jewel for help.
Jewel said, “Get something out of your collection with a hole in it. Thread one of your gold chains through and make a necklace.”
Irma, relieved, did just that. In fact, her last-minute jewelry was the hit of the CCC. All that was required was to don a Pez cow.
It was one of the coldest days of the winter of ’79. The people in the model airplane club were getting woozy. The radiators thumped as they flooded the room with heat. Terrence watched people outside huddle against the brutal cold. He stood there, transfixed.
Anne said, “Terrence, you alright? You seem like you’re in another world.”
“I think it’s the heat, Anne. And the glue. Making me groggy.”
Anne patted him on the back. “I’ll open a window,” she said. A stream of cold air whistled in. Terrence perked up. Everyone else did, too. Anne asked, “Is that better, Terrence?”
“That’s great,” replied Terrence. “Thank you. Actually, could you let the air in more, Anne?”
It was morning at the Children’s Television Workshop in early 1975. A horrible tragedy had occurred. The original Bert had burned up in a freak accident, and a series of Ernie & Bert bits were scheduled for filming that day.
Thankfully, the CTW had ample raw material to assemble a new Bert: yellow felt, eyes, striped fabric, special black yarn for hair. A senior puppetmaker scrambled to construct a new Bert Muppet. He grabbed an intern walking down the hall.
“Where are my Bert supples?!” he screamed.
The intern pointed down the hall. “Behind that door is raw Berts.”
Violet loved going to the annual US Mint parade. She wanted more than that, though. She wanted to walk in the parade. Each US currency denomination had a representative in the parade. The eligibility rules for walkers were established years ago. For some reason, age was a determining factor, and correlated to what denomination a person could represent.
For example, a person had to be over 50 years of age to represent the $100 bill. For the $50 bill, one must be at least 35. The ages seemed arbitrary, but rules were rules.
Violet wrote a long, impassioned essay to the parade committee. She explained her lifetime fascination with the parade, spoke of her recent 18th birthday, and made a heartfelt request.
The parade committee was moved, and some members were moved to tears. Violet’s essay was published in US Mint Magazine along with an announcement. With great pride and much fanfare, the parade committee made Violet that year’s penny marshal.
Angus McTeague LOVED the work of Michael Mann. He religiously watched Miami Vice when it first aired, and later bought the DVDs. He loved Mann’s movies — Manhunter, Heat, Thief, Collateral. He even liked movies where Mann served as Executive Producer. His favorite of those films was Band of the Hand.
Angus liked to pretend he and his brothers were in their own ragtag mercenary group. Angus would cause a stir in his neighborhood, goading people into a confrontation, usually drawing his brothers into the fray.
He would spit, raise his fists, and snarl, “Ye’ll pay! Ye’ll rue meh clan o’ han!”
Ouch. That title. “Syngables”? Is that really necessary? Yes, I am afraid it is.
This happens to me. Okay. I’ll hear a phrase that matches a certain syllable pattern, and I’ll immediately lapse into a song phrase that matches the pattern. This probably happens more times than I can remember, but the one I lapse into more than anything else is the chorus of “Girlfriend in a Coma”.
For my “Girlfriend In A Coma” trigger to be flipped, the words will usually have to be a standalone phrase. If you’re talking to me and you unwittingly utter a two-syllable word, followed two one-syllable words and another two-syllable word, I *probably* won’t start singing.
Anyways, once triggered, I’ll immediately start singing “Girlfriend in a Coma” but with the different words. I’m sure this is endearing.
The other day, I unexpectedly had another “Syngable” moment . I saw a sign for a “Multi-Family Yard Sale” and without warning, a synapse fired and I sang the words to the tune of “Sacrificial Bonfire”. (I’m talking about the part where they say “Sacrificial bonfire [Multi-family yard sale]! Must burn…” )
I later realized that to make this phrase fit, the word “family” had to be sung as two syllables, not three. Whoa, is that how I say “family”? Aw, hell. I think I do.
Well, if it fits the chorus to an XTC song from the 1980’s, I guess it’s worth it.