a portrait I did for a family friend.Friday, December 31, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
I stand at the top of a hill snaking out below me. From my vantage point I can see a massive landscape spread out below me. A river twists and turns through an evergreen forest. Around me however there is nothing. Just me the snow, the air and a sled. Taking a steadying breath I take a running start and jump. For a second it is pure exhilarating weightlessness until I come crashing back to earth in a painful fall. No time to contemplate this however as I speed along the glossy surface of the snow. Several times I come close to tipping over my head going inches from the ground. Gradually however I lose speed and come to a halt in the evergreen forest. Though I wish I could take another run I cannot. The skiers want their hill back.
this is a magpie tale http://magpietales.blogspot.com/
(to magpie readers: if you could do me a favor and help me by commenting on chapter one of my novel 2 posts below. Much appreciated.)
Monday, December 6, 2010
Novel chapter 1
Chapter 1: The screenwriter
I awoke as the midmorning rays of sun reached my eye level. I rolled onto my back and lay eyes closed for a minute before getting up and facing the intense cold that permeated throughout my apartment and removed any heat that lay there. Removing my arm from under the blankets I felt the needles of cold bore into it. Grimacing I fumbled around for my glasses and once my hands were around them quickly drew them back under the blanket. After savoring the last few moments of being warm I took a deep breath and prepared to face the cold and by extension the world.
When I was younger I always swore that I would never become the person who rode his bike in the snow. The idea of being unprotected in the cold ready to slip on ice and fall headlong into the street was the personification of ones life gone horribly wrong. If one was in such a position in witch they were forced to do something so foolish so horribly wrong I shuddered to think what else they dealt with on a daily basis. To me it represented failure. What kind of failure is open to interpretation. Maybe it was failure to own a car. Maybe it was the idea that nature controlled you. But maybe it was just my personal hatred of cold.
The younger version of my self would be disgusted. Years after swearing I would never become that person I was that person. Here I was on a bike riding through downtown in below zero grotesque mountains of snow piled many feet high in vacant parking lots. Below my wheels patches of ice threatened to derail my bike myself with it. Navigating the sidewalks was like trying to defuse a bomb. One wrong move and I would be face down in the snow arm broken or worse. The snow itself was coming down in razor sharp pellets bring visibility way down and searing past any exposed skin. Somehow I managed to cross several blocks before disaster struck. A particularly nasty patch of ice caused my bike to fly out from under me. I watched in horror as my bike slid out into the street. I scampered up and tried to make it to my bike before it was too late. It was too late. I watched a large truck filled with salt meant to remove the ice from the sidewalks ran over my bike leaving a barely recognizable pretzel of metal. The irony does not escape me.
After walking several blocks wind searing past my face I finally reached my destination. The place in question was a coffee shop with a premeditated “creative” vide. It was a perfect example of a stereotypical artsy place down to the infuriating post modern art, the overpriced drinks that tasted like coffee you could get anywhere else for much cheaper, and the terrible poets complaining about how no one understands their work. There was some no name guitarist strumming self satisfying in the background. Needless to say I loved the place. It was so terrible but like any good train wreck you couldn’t look away. After ordering a drink that tasted like sweetened mud I walked over to where my friend sat. He sat in what had formerly been a crate (part of the shops “green” initiative) sipping a drink while flipping through a magazine left on the table by the previous occupant. It took him several seconds of me standing over him to recognize my presence. With a look of confusion and then realization he noticed me.
“Ah there you are. Have fun getting over here”
“Oh yes riding my bike through the ice and snow was the highlight of my day even my week”
“Huh that’s funny because you often lament that”
“Huh”
“What?”
“I’m trying to decide weather you don’t understand my sense of humor or understand it perfectly”
“I think you know that answer”
“Do I?”
“Well yes I’ve known you since college so…”
“Even then you never got sarcasm”
“Aha it was sarcasm!”
“Wow”
“What?”
“Just wow”
“Well if you want it like this…”
“Look I have a screenplay to write and you have something to write”
“Ahem it’s a novel”
“Yeah the “novel” you’ve been working for how many years”
“This is a new one”
“Oh fine.”
At that point we gave each other an annoyed look and put our heads down to our computers. At that time I was going through about the eighth rewrite of my screenplay.
My screenplay had begun several years ago. It had begun as my naive attempt to deconstruct the idea of film and still create a film that worked as an entertainment level as well. The idea and the first draft had been extremely easy to the point where I believed that I would soon be so enriched by this screenplay that I would be able to quit my job and just be a screenwriter. Then came the rewrites and that dream was put away. Instead I began to obsess over the script forever attempting to create perfection. What instead happened was that I became so bogged down with details that my screenplay became a heaping mess that failed on almost every level. It succeeded only as a vanity project of an overindulgent man. It was then I seriously considered giving it up and starting fresh. However I then considered that I had sunk two years into the thing and I wouldn’t just stop. The attempt to salvage the mess became drafts four to five. Soon I had brought it back to earth and began to try to get it produced. It was soon picked up by a small film company by the name of Panorama Pictures. It was to be the most elaborate project they had ever produced. Even so it seemed like my movie was going to be produced. I would finally make a break in to the business. I was living a great life. I came close to quitting my job, proposing to my girlfriend, being somebody. However like all good things it would soon come to the end.
I remember December, 3, 2006 better than almost any other day. It began with my normal trip to the preproduction meeting with my director. The meeting happened in a restaurant out in the suburbs near where he worked out a “major part of his inspiration ritual”. The place was like any other restaurant in the area down to the smells of bland food covered up by spices and men in suits having hushed conversations over cheap beer and fish. As I waited for my director I did as I usually did and pulled out a notepad and paper and began jotting down the conversations of people around me. I always tried but somehow succeeded in exceeding some of the odder ones I heard. For instance once two people were talking about the best methods for robbing a bank, others spoke about the implied internal conflict in Garfield comics, while still others discussed the others former job grading SATs and the odd names he came across and others still debated weather it was odd to have their 50 year old son go into a time out for refusing to eat his vegetables. Anyway that day the conversations were relatively mundane. The only one that came anywhere near interesting was a man telling his date about his pets named after characters in the lion king. It was interesting but nothing worth working into my next screenplay. As I listened I sat in my chair consuming basket after basket of appetizer bread wondering when my director would show up. When he did finally show up he had his cell phone in hand grave look on his face. He walked over to my table like a doctor about to give awful news. When he came to the table he stayed silent saying nothing but his drink order. I waited with a sick anticipation for his implied awful news. He didn’t speak just downing one drink and then another. The bread I had just eaten began to fell heavier. Then after three drinks he spoke.
“It’s over”
“What?”
“You know what I just said don’t make me repeat it.”
“But what? What’s over?
“Panorama it’s all down the toilet.”
“Seriously it went under…but what about…how….wait what happened?”
“Our grant money all gone. Apparently making a film that consisted only of a fat man dancing is not in good “taste””
“But my movie what about that?”
“Ha are you kidding me its over just like the whole company.”
“So all that work….”
“Useless”
“Oh wow…”
“Well now I have to tell everyone movies over and I’m um sorry”
He than left me alone in a restaurant by a lake surrounded by my own uneaten food and the cloud of failure. In the next few weeks I became a self-pitying idiot. No one could stand to be around me. My girlfriend broke up with me. My script became just another dead weight. However now I am close to finishing yet another rewrite. I have been working on this script for four years. I am not screwing up my next opportunity.
Info
written: over the past three weeks
Time: 9-11 pm
albums listened to: Muse the resistance, Vampire weekend Contra, Gorillaz: Plastic Beach
food consumed: nothing special
status: work in progress feedback wanted
I awoke as the midmorning rays of sun reached my eye level. I rolled onto my back and lay eyes closed for a minute before getting up and facing the intense cold that permeated throughout my apartment and removed any heat that lay there. Removing my arm from under the blankets I felt the needles of cold bore into it. Grimacing I fumbled around for my glasses and once my hands were around them quickly drew them back under the blanket. After savoring the last few moments of being warm I took a deep breath and prepared to face the cold and by extension the world.
When I was younger I always swore that I would never become the person who rode his bike in the snow. The idea of being unprotected in the cold ready to slip on ice and fall headlong into the street was the personification of ones life gone horribly wrong. If one was in such a position in witch they were forced to do something so foolish so horribly wrong I shuddered to think what else they dealt with on a daily basis. To me it represented failure. What kind of failure is open to interpretation. Maybe it was failure to own a car. Maybe it was the idea that nature controlled you. But maybe it was just my personal hatred of cold.
The younger version of my self would be disgusted. Years after swearing I would never become that person I was that person. Here I was on a bike riding through downtown in below zero grotesque mountains of snow piled many feet high in vacant parking lots. Below my wheels patches of ice threatened to derail my bike myself with it. Navigating the sidewalks was like trying to defuse a bomb. One wrong move and I would be face down in the snow arm broken or worse. The snow itself was coming down in razor sharp pellets bring visibility way down and searing past any exposed skin. Somehow I managed to cross several blocks before disaster struck. A particularly nasty patch of ice caused my bike to fly out from under me. I watched in horror as my bike slid out into the street. I scampered up and tried to make it to my bike before it was too late. It was too late. I watched a large truck filled with salt meant to remove the ice from the sidewalks ran over my bike leaving a barely recognizable pretzel of metal. The irony does not escape me.
After walking several blocks wind searing past my face I finally reached my destination. The place in question was a coffee shop with a premeditated “creative” vide. It was a perfect example of a stereotypical artsy place down to the infuriating post modern art, the overpriced drinks that tasted like coffee you could get anywhere else for much cheaper, and the terrible poets complaining about how no one understands their work. There was some no name guitarist strumming self satisfying in the background. Needless to say I loved the place. It was so terrible but like any good train wreck you couldn’t look away. After ordering a drink that tasted like sweetened mud I walked over to where my friend sat. He sat in what had formerly been a crate (part of the shops “green” initiative) sipping a drink while flipping through a magazine left on the table by the previous occupant. It took him several seconds of me standing over him to recognize my presence. With a look of confusion and then realization he noticed me.
“Ah there you are. Have fun getting over here”
“Oh yes riding my bike through the ice and snow was the highlight of my day even my week”
“Huh that’s funny because you often lament that”
“Huh”
“What?”
“I’m trying to decide weather you don’t understand my sense of humor or understand it perfectly”
“I think you know that answer”
“Do I?”
“Well yes I’ve known you since college so…”
“Even then you never got sarcasm”
“Aha it was sarcasm!”
“Wow”
“What?”
“Just wow”
“Well if you want it like this…”
“Look I have a screenplay to write and you have something to write”
“Ahem it’s a novel”
“Yeah the “novel” you’ve been working for how many years”
“This is a new one”
“Oh fine.”
At that point we gave each other an annoyed look and put our heads down to our computers. At that time I was going through about the eighth rewrite of my screenplay.
My screenplay had begun several years ago. It had begun as my naive attempt to deconstruct the idea of film and still create a film that worked as an entertainment level as well. The idea and the first draft had been extremely easy to the point where I believed that I would soon be so enriched by this screenplay that I would be able to quit my job and just be a screenwriter. Then came the rewrites and that dream was put away. Instead I began to obsess over the script forever attempting to create perfection. What instead happened was that I became so bogged down with details that my screenplay became a heaping mess that failed on almost every level. It succeeded only as a vanity project of an overindulgent man. It was then I seriously considered giving it up and starting fresh. However I then considered that I had sunk two years into the thing and I wouldn’t just stop. The attempt to salvage the mess became drafts four to five. Soon I had brought it back to earth and began to try to get it produced. It was soon picked up by a small film company by the name of Panorama Pictures. It was to be the most elaborate project they had ever produced. Even so it seemed like my movie was going to be produced. I would finally make a break in to the business. I was living a great life. I came close to quitting my job, proposing to my girlfriend, being somebody. However like all good things it would soon come to the end.
I remember December, 3, 2006 better than almost any other day. It began with my normal trip to the preproduction meeting with my director. The meeting happened in a restaurant out in the suburbs near where he worked out a “major part of his inspiration ritual”. The place was like any other restaurant in the area down to the smells of bland food covered up by spices and men in suits having hushed conversations over cheap beer and fish. As I waited for my director I did as I usually did and pulled out a notepad and paper and began jotting down the conversations of people around me. I always tried but somehow succeeded in exceeding some of the odder ones I heard. For instance once two people were talking about the best methods for robbing a bank, others spoke about the implied internal conflict in Garfield comics, while still others discussed the others former job grading SATs and the odd names he came across and others still debated weather it was odd to have their 50 year old son go into a time out for refusing to eat his vegetables. Anyway that day the conversations were relatively mundane. The only one that came anywhere near interesting was a man telling his date about his pets named after characters in the lion king. It was interesting but nothing worth working into my next screenplay. As I listened I sat in my chair consuming basket after basket of appetizer bread wondering when my director would show up. When he did finally show up he had his cell phone in hand grave look on his face. He walked over to my table like a doctor about to give awful news. When he came to the table he stayed silent saying nothing but his drink order. I waited with a sick anticipation for his implied awful news. He didn’t speak just downing one drink and then another. The bread I had just eaten began to fell heavier. Then after three drinks he spoke.
“It’s over”
“What?”
“You know what I just said don’t make me repeat it.”
“But what? What’s over?
“Panorama it’s all down the toilet.”
“Seriously it went under…but what about…how….wait what happened?”
“Our grant money all gone. Apparently making a film that consisted only of a fat man dancing is not in good “taste””
“But my movie what about that?”
“Ha are you kidding me its over just like the whole company.”
“So all that work….”
“Useless”
“Oh wow…”
“Well now I have to tell everyone movies over and I’m um sorry”
He than left me alone in a restaurant by a lake surrounded by my own uneaten food and the cloud of failure. In the next few weeks I became a self-pitying idiot. No one could stand to be around me. My girlfriend broke up with me. My script became just another dead weight. However now I am close to finishing yet another rewrite. I have been working on this script for four years. I am not screwing up my next opportunity.
Info
written: over the past three weeks
Time: 9-11 pm
albums listened to: Muse the resistance, Vampire weekend Contra, Gorillaz: Plastic Beach
food consumed: nothing special
status: work in progress feedback wanted
Novel
sorry for not posting for the past week. I have been working on a new comic and a novel. I will be sure to post progress on each later.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
New concept art and poem
This is the concept art for my next book. I'm prepping several books for Minnesota springcon (those being Adventures of Alan Moore issue 2, a collaboration I did with my friend Henry, and this book) also a new poem since I have posted so little latelyWhat if
a fictional character
were to realize the
fact of
his existence
That he himself
is not real
the creation of
a frustrated artist
typing at
a computer
And what
if he were
to tell
his world
this truth
Would he
be hailed as
a prophet
a holy man
or as a crazy
locked up
in a fictional
mental ward
And what if the
characters were not
content to lead
a fictional
existence
and rebelled
against
author
and reader
Paradise Lost
of the made up
Or could an
agreement be
reached between
character
author
and reader
peace
but maybe
all of this
is pointless.
Maybe
characters
are happy
to
be
fiction
Also on another note the one year anniversary of this blog is coming up and if anyone has any ideas on how to celebrate please drop a comment
Friday, October 29, 2010
A poem about worksheeets
Paper
meant to be
consumed in
white lit classrooms
What
could cause
a man
to create
such an oddity
dire straits
cause
the creation of
ideas from ideas
from ideas
all false
Some man
some where
wondered
how
to be
creative
but
unable
to be
creative
he wrote
a
mass produced
worksheet
meant
to
stir
the
creativity
of
others
this was inspired by a worksheet I had to do for writing class at school.
meant to be
consumed in
white lit classrooms
What
could cause
a man
to create
such an oddity
dire straits
cause
the creation of
ideas from ideas
from ideas
all false
Some man
some where
wondered
how
to be
creative
but
unable
to be
creative
he wrote
a
mass produced
worksheet
meant
to
stir
the
creativity
of
others
this was inspired by a worksheet I had to do for writing class at school.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
sorry for not blogging last week. It kind of slipped my mind. So in an attempt to make up for it I posted some preview art for issue 2 of adventures of Alan Moore (1st issue at http://1890comic.blogspot.com). Yes he sings in issue 2.Friday, October 15, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
More text art. One day I intend to write a book with the technique. Also my magpies going up tomorrow. And as a final piece of "necessary" information I will be tabling with Sam Hiti and Lewis Tuck a Minnesota Fallcon http://midwestcomicbook.com/.Sunday, October 10, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Sneak peak
the rough thumbnails for my new book law sharks. the book itself will premiere at Minnesota fall con. Also the adventures of Alan Moore #1 will be put online soon.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Magpie tales: Blind Date
I stand next to the mirror fiddling unnecessarily with my tie. I almost put in contacts but then think if I wear glasses it will make me look more distinguished. For a last touch I dab on some cologne and make my way into my office. I print off directions to the restaurant and I am out the door. On the way, I stop at a store and pick up some flowers to make a good impression. As I continue my drive, I contemplate what I am doing. I'm about to go on a date with some seemingly random woman from the Internet and I worry about making a good impression.
I shake that off that feeling of insecurity as I pull up to the restaurant and exit my car. I take a deep breath and enter the establishment. Inside, I immediately see one woman drinking a glass of white wine and checking the clock obsessively. I know instantly she's my date. I nervously walk up to her and ask "Are you Karen Green?" She answers meekly, "Yes... why do you ask?" I reply, "Well, I'm Will Navidson and.." Quickly, her expression changes as she says, "Hold on a second, you're my date?" "Um yes", I reply." She then looks reflectively at her wine glass and says, "Look, I'm sorry but I don't date your type." Now, I am stumped. So I reply -- now the meek one, "Oh, um that's too bad." I then leave, head down.
On the way out I dump the flowers into the trash and shake my head. Dating is hard if you're a yeti.
This is a magpie tale. The yeti in this story is based on the same idea from my swamp monster story awhile back http://jpbeaty.blogspot.com/2010/07/in-awful-humidity-that-is-so-often.html#comments
I shake that off that feeling of insecurity as I pull up to the restaurant and exit my car. I take a deep breath and enter the establishment. Inside, I immediately see one woman drinking a glass of white wine and checking the clock obsessively. I know instantly she's my date. I nervously walk up to her and ask "Are you Karen Green?" She answers meekly, "Yes... why do you ask?" I reply, "Well, I'm Will Navidson and.." Quickly, her expression changes as she says, "Hold on a second, you're my date?" "Um yes", I reply." She then looks reflectively at her wine glass and says, "Look, I'm sorry but I don't date your type." Now, I am stumped. So I reply -- now the meek one, "Oh, um that's too bad." I then leave, head down.
On the way out I dump the flowers into the trash and shake my head. Dating is hard if you're a yeti.
This is a magpie tale. The yeti in this story is based on the same idea from my swamp monster story awhile back http://jpbeaty.blogspot.com/2010/07/in-awful-humidity-that-is-so-often.html#comments
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Random people
Here are portraits of people that I've seen recently. Some are friends and some are people I've just walked by, bought coffee from, or just seen from the window of a carWednesday, September 15, 2010
Magpie tale: hourglass
My office was located on the 3rd floor of a nondescript college building. My classes however were not normal. I had a vast amount of experience in cryptozoology and abstract physics, pertaining to time travel and alternate dimensions and such. My department had recently received much academic attention for the recent discovery, by two of my professors, of a walking stick that allowed one to transverse dimensions. Sadly, upon further testing, the jeweled walking stick had turned out to be far less practical than previously thought and now served as a teaching tool in the history department (authors note: the story of the walking stick can be found at http://jpbeaty.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-sat-in-contemplative-silence-chin.html#comments)
Even so I had given that professor free reign in the basements of all the buildings. Earlier I had received a call saying he had found another more practical solution to the time travel paradox and I now awaited his arrival. As soon as I picked up some work and began to flip through my awaited person came crashing through the door, a brown package in his hand. We exchanged the obligatory hellos and then got down to business. The item he had found was an Egyptian hourglass made around the same period of time as the walking stick. I asked him to show me. He pressed some jewels set in the gold and than in a vortex of sand we went up up up.... When the world reformed itself we found ourselves in the middle of a roman Coliseum. Across the arena from us was a lion. It would suffice to say it wasn't happy. The news wasn't much better when I turned around. Standing there in face paint and armor was a barbarian warrior meant to fight the said lion. The crowd however based on the massive amount of cheering didn't mind if It were us or the lion that was attacked. As I thought, this the warrior charged me and my friend. In an act of plain stupidity my companion stuck out the item he happened to be holding. The problem was that that item happened to be the hour glass. As the barbarian's sword plunged into the hour glass we snapped back to our own time. When I looked the top part of the glass was shattered, sword still in it. That night in my nondescript office on the third floor my professor friend and I sat gluing together pieces of glass.
this is a magpie tale http://magpietales.blogspot.com/
new pen and ink
Lately I've been reading a lot of Hemingway so I did this pen and ink piece called "in the shadow of Kilimanjaro.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The Guide's Window
The forest morning was crisp. I walked alone with the leaves cracking under my feet. I clutched my coat closer against the chilling fall winds. The trees looked almost skeletal against the clear air. Up ahead along the trail -- leaning against a fallen tree -- was the person I had come to meet. He was my good friend and today we intended to wander the woods for the day with his acquaintance, a guide who knew the area quite well.
When I arrived the guide shook my hand. For a split second it seemed like the wind suddenly got colder, but the feeling soon passed. Then, for the next several hours we were shown all there was to see in the acres of wilderness. After this time we came upon a house in the woods sticking out like a sore thumb. Our guide strode confidently toward it. I stood hesitantly until something caught my eye. In the window was a transparent figure looking out the window. I ran away back to my car screaming.
The two remaining men look at each other for a second. The guide looked over to my friend and asked "Did you tell him about my wife and me by chance?" The friend replied "no, it must have slipped my mind." The guide simply replied "Oh well, lets go see what's for lunch". With that the friend walked around to the door as the guide turned transparent and went through the wall.
this is a magpie tale http://magpietales.blogspot.com/ and a poet rally post. For the perfect poet award I nominate because they comment on all my posts Brian and jingle.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
I had been in the doctor’s office for the better part of an hour. I sat waiting for a diagnosis that I hoped would disprove my suspicions, yet I was ready to take it. After all, working in a biochemical plant is like playing the disease lottery. Even so, it came as a jolt of surprise when the doctor reported that an abnormal tumor was growing within my right arm and the arm might have to be amputated. However, he encouraged calm as I waited for the MRI results to return. Just as I thought, the doctor came out of his office with a grave look on his face. I walked over to him. “Did it come back positive?” The doctor just nodded gravely.
Two days later it was time for surgery. I laid spread eagle on the metal table. The doctor pulled a painful looking needle from the tray beside me. “This will only hurt a bit and then you will fade to black…” The next second I was out cold.
When I came to, I expected to awake in a normal hospital bed with family and friends at my bedside. Instead, I saw various doctors and nurses in a state of panic. I could tell something was seriously wrong. Then the doctor said panicked in a low worried voice, “How does one amputate the wrong arm?!”
Two days later it was time for surgery. I laid spread eagle on the metal table. The doctor pulled a painful looking needle from the tray beside me. “This will only hurt a bit and then you will fade to black…” The next second I was out cold.
When I came to, I expected to awake in a normal hospital bed with family and friends at my bedside. Instead, I saw various doctors and nurses in a state of panic. I could tell something was seriously wrong. Then the doctor said panicked in a low worried voice, “How does one amputate the wrong arm?!”
fin
new short story...
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
ACT I
Curtain opens on a living room. Will is standing alone talking on the phone.
Will: Hey man how’s it going? Yeah she’s coming home. No I haven’t proposed. Can you get off my back about it? Ah it’s fine mom. Hey did you hear about the zombie outbreak by my house? Nah it was pretty minor no need to worry. Wait she’s coming in gotta go.
Ramona comes through the door she is crying.
Will: What’s wrong?
Ramona: I…I got…got
Will: What? What happened?
Ramona: I got bit!
Cries harder
Will: Bit! Bit by what?
Ramona: A zombie!
Will: No! how could this happen?
Ramona (sobs): Well (sniffles) I was walking home form work alone I might add and well I dropped my purse and as I bent over a…a zombie bit me in the arm.
Will: No does that mean…
Ramona: yes I have 3 hours until I…
Will: no this can’t be happening not to you… Wait I have an idea! I just read an article in um the New York Times that says zombies really are still human or something.
Ramona: well ok then…
They sit down there is silence for some time.
Will is sitting in the easy chair looking worried as is Ramona. suddenly she bolts up as if she just had a great idea.
Ramona: you know I’ve been doing some thinking. Maybe once I’m a zombie I can keep myself from eating you or anyone else. I mean I’m still a human right and even if I lose that I’ll still have my humanity. Now that I have thought about it I know that I don’t have to be a bloodthirsty zombie. I can be a nice zombie. In fact I’ll change the way people see the walking dead. I can change the world show them that zombies can be sweet and caring without the craving for Man. And then I can teach the other zombies that just because their undead doesn’t mean their not human beings.
Will: what are you crazy! No we are not accepting this. We will go down fighting!
Ramona: No I’m gonna become a zombie so why fight it.
Will: Why fight it!? Honey why are you talking like that? Wait a second… lack of fighting spirit. That…that’s one of the fist signs!
Ramona: What are you talking about? all I’m saying is that…
Will slaps her.
Ramona: What was that for!
Will: Funny I read somewhere that if you slap them it might…
Ramona: Shut up! I don’t care what you read. Once you’ve been bitten there’s no turning back! God men!
Ramona sits back down and turns away from Will. Awkward pause
Will: look Ramona I’m sorry I that I…
Ramona: No I understand and even though there’s no cure I’m ok with you trying out you (finger quotes) methods for preventing it.
Will: Ok then I’m going to the Internet.
Ramona: good and can you grab me some raw meat from the fridge.
Will: oh god…snap out it!
Ramona: Snap out of what!?
Will: I don’t know your zombieness.
Ramona: Look are you gonna be this paranoid all I wanted to do was eat raw meat…
Will: that’s the problem… I mean what human wants raw meat…
Ramona: Well I do!
Will: Fine I give up have your raw meat!!
Ramona: well if it means so much to you fine I’m not even hungry any more….
They sit in silence for a minute. Finally Will sighs goes to the freezer brings back a steak.
Will: here you go
Ramona: thank you Will I know it was difficult for you…
Will: well this is as far as I’m going to accept your transformation… I will stop this!
End Act I
Act 1 of the play I'm writing future zombie.
Curtain opens on a living room. Will is standing alone talking on the phone.
Will: Hey man how’s it going? Yeah she’s coming home. No I haven’t proposed. Can you get off my back about it? Ah it’s fine mom. Hey did you hear about the zombie outbreak by my house? Nah it was pretty minor no need to worry. Wait she’s coming in gotta go.
Ramona comes through the door she is crying.
Will: What’s wrong?
Ramona: I…I got…got
Will: What? What happened?
Ramona: I got bit!
Cries harder
Will: Bit! Bit by what?
Ramona: A zombie!
Will: No! how could this happen?
Ramona (sobs): Well (sniffles) I was walking home form work alone I might add and well I dropped my purse and as I bent over a…a zombie bit me in the arm.
Will: No does that mean…
Ramona: yes I have 3 hours until I…
Will: no this can’t be happening not to you… Wait I have an idea! I just read an article in um the New York Times that says zombies really are still human or something.
Ramona: well ok then…
They sit down there is silence for some time.
Will is sitting in the easy chair looking worried as is Ramona. suddenly she bolts up as if she just had a great idea.
Ramona: you know I’ve been doing some thinking. Maybe once I’m a zombie I can keep myself from eating you or anyone else. I mean I’m still a human right and even if I lose that I’ll still have my humanity. Now that I have thought about it I know that I don’t have to be a bloodthirsty zombie. I can be a nice zombie. In fact I’ll change the way people see the walking dead. I can change the world show them that zombies can be sweet and caring without the craving for Man. And then I can teach the other zombies that just because their undead doesn’t mean their not human beings.
Will: what are you crazy! No we are not accepting this. We will go down fighting!
Ramona: No I’m gonna become a zombie so why fight it.
Will: Why fight it!? Honey why are you talking like that? Wait a second… lack of fighting spirit. That…that’s one of the fist signs!
Ramona: What are you talking about? all I’m saying is that…
Will slaps her.
Ramona: What was that for!
Will: Funny I read somewhere that if you slap them it might…
Ramona: Shut up! I don’t care what you read. Once you’ve been bitten there’s no turning back! God men!
Ramona sits back down and turns away from Will. Awkward pause
Will: look Ramona I’m sorry I that I…
Ramona: No I understand and even though there’s no cure I’m ok with you trying out you (finger quotes) methods for preventing it.
Will: Ok then I’m going to the Internet.
Ramona: good and can you grab me some raw meat from the fridge.
Will: oh god…snap out it!
Ramona: Snap out of what!?
Will: I don’t know your zombieness.
Ramona: Look are you gonna be this paranoid all I wanted to do was eat raw meat…
Will: that’s the problem… I mean what human wants raw meat…
Ramona: Well I do!
Will: Fine I give up have your raw meat!!
Ramona: well if it means so much to you fine I’m not even hungry any more….
They sit in silence for a minute. Finally Will sighs goes to the freezer brings back a steak.
Will: here you go
Ramona: thank you Will I know it was difficult for you…
Will: well this is as far as I’m going to accept your transformation… I will stop this!
End Act I
Act 1 of the play I'm writing future zombie.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Minnesota's alt weekly city pages does a comix issue every year where indie cartoonists send in comics acording to a certain theme. Anyway my comic snakeman declares independence is up right now check it out. http://www.citypages.com/microsites/comics-beaty/, it is under jp beaty.
Monday, August 9, 2010
well after a long period of work the fist issue of adventures of alan moore are finished and will be printed later this week. It will be premiered at the Minneapolis indie expo http://mplsindiexpo.com/ later this month. For those in the area it's sure to be a great time. Also if any readers want a copy I will try to sell online.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
“Why did the chicken cross the road?” This simple question has baffled people for centuries. It is time we got a definitive scientific answer to this enigma. This essay will try to answer this age old riddle in a non byes scientific essay. To start we need to be sure it is even possible for poultry to cross a road. If we assume the road in question is say, a county lane, the factors involved would include the status of the road, the ratios of cow pies to soil, the amount of meat in the chicken and friction. My hypostasis was originally that the chicken would be unable to cross the road. To test my theory I went to Dr. Johan Von Strausenburger head of farm animal research at Texas A&M. During my meeting he with he said with no variables changed and no outside factors acting upon the chicken it was physically able to cross the road. He did however say he seriously doubted that under real world conditions that the chicken could cross the road. Just to be completely sure I decided to perform an experiment to test the possibility of chickens crossing lanes. At the lane where I was to do the experiment I met farmer Biff Brownstone. He said he once knew a man who supposedly saw a chicken cross a road. Brownstone then snorted and returned to his work. After meeting Biff I took readings of the various variables of the road. I then released the chicken onto the road. I was shocked to see what happened next. The chicken actually succeeded in crossing the road. Several more tests with different chickens proved that the first test wasn’t just a scientific anomaly. I do believe that this discovery will shake the scientific world for decades to come. To think an animal lacking in human intelligence was able to go through the thought the complex posses of the muscles movement needed to cross a road. It is also truly amazing to think that just 30 years ago it was not believed that animals could even walk. That being said it may be possible for a lower life form to communicate or even to think. This discovery opens many doors but also terrifying questions such as what if animals can express emotion a poses long thought to be unique to humans? To answer these questions further research is necessary. Now that’s its established that chickens can indeed cross roads (much to my surprise) we now must answer the fundamental question of why. For this I go famed animal psychologist Rupert Maunkiul. As I tell him about my studies he reacts puzzled when I told him that a chicken was able to cross the road. After several days of intense questioning we came to the fallowing thesis. While the average person may believe the chicken was motivated by such factors as food or mating we decided to dig deeper into the mind of a chicken.
The start of a satire of scientific studies. As an extra challenge (and a good writing exercise) try and finish it. I'd love to read the results.
The start of a satire of scientific studies. As an extra challenge (and a good writing exercise) try and finish it. I'd love to read the results.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Int diner early morning.
Main character (MARK) is sitting moping while drinking a cup of coffee. We see him looking at various couples around the diner performing public displays of affection. His brow furrows. He snorts angrily and returns to his drink. Then entering the diner is KATE a manic pixie dream girl who radiates energy. She sees MARK moping and decides to walk over though she has no idea who he is. She slides into his booth.
KATE
Hiya person I’ve never met and just saw 5 minutes ago. I intend to become your girlfriend who will pull you out of your of the slump and help you learn about yourself.
MARK
Stop talking to me I’m trying to get over my last relationship that ended abruptly last night. I have no intention of being with another woman because my last one hurt me so bad…
KATE
So what! I’m still happy even though I’m single mother trying to balance my career as an editor at a fashion magazine while trying to raise two adorable children in the big city.
MARK
Well I’m different I’m a struggling artist who has been hurt by women far too many times. So no I don’t want to go out with you!
MARK storms out. KATE breaks the fourth wall and gives a knowing wink to the camera. Fade to black.
Int mall later that day
MARK and his obnoxious best friend HARRY are at the mall.
HARRY
So what was so remarkable about Super Mario bros 2 was the introduction of… (Add lib)
MARK zones out and then in the corner of his eye sees KATE and her gay roommate C@RL.
MARK (to self)
No way! It can’t be the same strange woman I met earlier today.
We see a look of discomfort cross his face as he sees that KATE and C@RL notice him.
HARRY
Um dude what’s wrong you look like you saw a ghost…
MARK
Remember that crazy girl I told you about earlier. The one who I’m weirded out by but oddly attracted to.
HARRY
Yeah why?
MARK (astonished)
I might be crazy but I think I see her again. Oh hi Kate… What are you doing here?
KATE
Well C@RL here was just helping me pick out a bridesmaid’s dress for my sister’s wedding tomorrow. Do you want to help me?
MARK
Um just one second…
Pulls HARRY aside and whispers
MARK
Should I go with her?
A sly smile crosses mark’s face.
HARRY
You like her don’t you?
Mark looks around in desperation.
MARK
Yes even though she is completely crazy I think I am beginning to fall in love with her.
HARRY
Well if you think that I’ll leave you two alone. (outward) Well I’ll just be at game stop but MARK would love to join you.
MONTAGUE
KATE is shown trying on various outfits each of witch prompts MARK and C@RL to give thumbs down until the last one witch they give thumbs up to.
Int food court later
they are sitting with shopping bags slung over the chairs. They look tiered yet happy as though the just had a good time. KATE is laughing and then her cell phone rings
KATE
Hello… yes what do you mean you can’t make it… yes it’s a big deal… ok I’ll have to figure something out. Ok good bye. (puts down phone) My sitter just called she can’t babysit the kids tonight. oh and on the night of my best friend’s wedding…
MARK
I’ll babysit your kids so I can gain your trust and make you love me.
ok this is me trying my hand at 2 forms of new writing: screenwriting and parody. This is meant as a satire of romantic comedies. I tried to use every cliche ever used in those types of movies. I will be adding the rest when I finish.
Main character (MARK) is sitting moping while drinking a cup of coffee. We see him looking at various couples around the diner performing public displays of affection. His brow furrows. He snorts angrily and returns to his drink. Then entering the diner is KATE a manic pixie dream girl who radiates energy. She sees MARK moping and decides to walk over though she has no idea who he is. She slides into his booth.
KATE
Hiya person I’ve never met and just saw 5 minutes ago. I intend to become your girlfriend who will pull you out of your of the slump and help you learn about yourself.
MARK
Stop talking to me I’m trying to get over my last relationship that ended abruptly last night. I have no intention of being with another woman because my last one hurt me so bad…
KATE
So what! I’m still happy even though I’m single mother trying to balance my career as an editor at a fashion magazine while trying to raise two adorable children in the big city.
MARK
Well I’m different I’m a struggling artist who has been hurt by women far too many times. So no I don’t want to go out with you!
MARK storms out. KATE breaks the fourth wall and gives a knowing wink to the camera. Fade to black.
Int mall later that day
MARK and his obnoxious best friend HARRY are at the mall.
HARRY
So what was so remarkable about Super Mario bros 2 was the introduction of… (Add lib)
MARK zones out and then in the corner of his eye sees KATE and her gay roommate C@RL.
MARK (to self)
No way! It can’t be the same strange woman I met earlier today.
We see a look of discomfort cross his face as he sees that KATE and C@RL notice him.
HARRY
Um dude what’s wrong you look like you saw a ghost…
MARK
Remember that crazy girl I told you about earlier. The one who I’m weirded out by but oddly attracted to.
HARRY
Yeah why?
MARK (astonished)
I might be crazy but I think I see her again. Oh hi Kate… What are you doing here?
KATE
Well C@RL here was just helping me pick out a bridesmaid’s dress for my sister’s wedding tomorrow. Do you want to help me?
MARK
Um just one second…
Pulls HARRY aside and whispers
MARK
Should I go with her?
A sly smile crosses mark’s face.
HARRY
You like her don’t you?
Mark looks around in desperation.
MARK
Yes even though she is completely crazy I think I am beginning to fall in love with her.
HARRY
Well if you think that I’ll leave you two alone. (outward) Well I’ll just be at game stop but MARK would love to join you.
MONTAGUE
KATE is shown trying on various outfits each of witch prompts MARK and C@RL to give thumbs down until the last one witch they give thumbs up to.
Int food court later
they are sitting with shopping bags slung over the chairs. They look tiered yet happy as though the just had a good time. KATE is laughing and then her cell phone rings
KATE
Hello… yes what do you mean you can’t make it… yes it’s a big deal… ok I’ll have to figure something out. Ok good bye. (puts down phone) My sitter just called she can’t babysit the kids tonight. oh and on the night of my best friend’s wedding…
MARK
I’ll babysit your kids so I can gain your trust and make you love me.
ok this is me trying my hand at 2 forms of new writing: screenwriting and parody. This is meant as a satire of romantic comedies. I tried to use every cliche ever used in those types of movies. I will be adding the rest when I finish.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
new adventures of Alan Moore update: the penciling is complete for the first issue of the new adventures of Alan Moore. The inking should be done by the end of this month.
here is the final list of real people appearing in issue #1
1. Alan Moore (obviously)
2. Andrew Zimmern
3. Grant Morrison
4. Neil Gaiman
5. My friend Adam
6. My friend Henry Dykstal
7. Jason Maraz
8. Muse
9. Maha
10. Todd McFarlane (final boss)
also for the covers I plan to rip off famous art that uses Alan Moore instead of the subjects of the painting. For instance the first cover will be The Scream.
here is the final list of real people appearing in issue #1
1. Alan Moore (obviously)
2. Andrew Zimmern
3. Grant Morrison
4. Neil Gaiman
5. My friend Adam
6. My friend Henry Dykstal
7. Jason Maraz
8. Muse
9. Maha
10. Todd McFarlane (final boss)
also for the covers I plan to rip off famous art that uses Alan Moore instead of the subjects of the painting. For instance the first cover will be The Scream.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Lyrics to the Paul the octopus song: Paul, Paul, we want Paul !! Paul, Paul, we want Paul !! Paul the octopus, Paul the octopus, Paul the octopus, we love you. You pick the winner when you eat your dinner, Paul the octopus, we love you. Your tentacles are magical, they pick the winning team. You were born in England, now you live in Germany. Paul, Paul, we want Paul !! Paul the octopus, Paul the octopus, Paul the octopus, we love you. You pick the winner when you eat your dinner, Paul the octopus, we... love... YOU
For those who don't know Paul is the awesome octopus who picks World Cup winners.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
In the awful humidity that is so often associated with summer sits a woman intently tapping on the chair leg as if a victim of some odd nervous disorder.In the distance she hears fourth of july fire crackers. they seem however to be in another world. Her husband had said he would return over an hour ago. She reaches for her cell phone once again. Like every other attempt, all she receives is a prerecorded message informing her that her husband's phone has been turned off. She curses her own poor lack of foresight in forgetting to bring the charger. Finally, after waiting another half an hour, she can take it no more and strides into the awful smelling forest surrounding the house. However, by the time the lights from the house have faded she regrets her rash action. The dark swamp seems to be an alien planet. The trees are draped with slimy moss and deep in thick mud. The woman by now in the clutches of fear pulls her cell phone from her pocket. The illumination however lasts only for several seconds as the woman's shaking hands drop the phone into the mud causing it to die as it slithers out of sight.
The sounds of the swamp have become increasingly threatening. Then, up ahead from behind a tree comes a soft glow. She breaks into a sprint leaving one of her shoes behind in the mud and falling face first into the glowing clearing. As she looks up, there sits her husband and a strange creature. "Honey it's you...we have to get out of here...there's a..." Her husband responds in a knowing tone, "I know, there is swamp monster here and he happens to be my uncle, and he appears to be extremely annoyed by you." The swamp monster nods as if to prove her husband's point. The wife responds "Wait, your uncle was reported missing years ago." At this point, the husband looks at his hands and sheepishly shares "well honey, there is something about me -- scratch that -- my family that I neglected to tell you. See my family has a genetic condition where one branch of each generation must become a swamp monster...or yeti...or something. We fill humanity's need for mythical creatures. My uncle was the monster of his generation and we are being asked to be the monsters of ours." He cringes as he waits for his wife's response. She replies in complete disbelief, "So you are saying that I need to turn into a swamp monster?" At this point his uncle intones in a grave voice "Being a monster isn't all bad, in fact you get access to magic areas of all major cities and free seats at sporting and artistic events. And you are given a nice home in a secluded swamp somewhere." The woman stands mouth gaping open until replying to her husband "Let me guess. You are going to do this anyway, right?" The husband slowly nods confirmation. In a reply that even surprises herself she says "well, then I guess I will too." With that, the uncle begins the ceremony.
The next day a young couple is reported missing. The case remains open. On the same day many people report seeing three "swamp monsters" moving away from town.
The sounds of the swamp have become increasingly threatening. Then, up ahead from behind a tree comes a soft glow. She breaks into a sprint leaving one of her shoes behind in the mud and falling face first into the glowing clearing. As she looks up, there sits her husband and a strange creature. "Honey it's you...we have to get out of here...there's a..." Her husband responds in a knowing tone, "I know, there is swamp monster here and he happens to be my uncle, and he appears to be extremely annoyed by you." The swamp monster nods as if to prove her husband's point. The wife responds "Wait, your uncle was reported missing years ago." At this point, the husband looks at his hands and sheepishly shares "well honey, there is something about me -- scratch that -- my family that I neglected to tell you. See my family has a genetic condition where one branch of each generation must become a swamp monster...or yeti...or something. We fill humanity's need for mythical creatures. My uncle was the monster of his generation and we are being asked to be the monsters of ours." He cringes as he waits for his wife's response. She replies in complete disbelief, "So you are saying that I need to turn into a swamp monster?" At this point his uncle intones in a grave voice "Being a monster isn't all bad, in fact you get access to magic areas of all major cities and free seats at sporting and artistic events. And you are given a nice home in a secluded swamp somewhere." The woman stands mouth gaping open until replying to her husband "Let me guess. You are going to do this anyway, right?" The husband slowly nods confirmation. In a reply that even surprises herself she says "well, then I guess I will too." With that, the uncle begins the ceremony.
The next day a young couple is reported missing. The case remains open. On the same day many people report seeing three "swamp monsters" moving away from town.
A local man's encounter with the monsters
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The cover of the book I'm currently working on "The New Adventures of Alan Moore." It fallows the adventures of the eccentric comic writer Alan Moore (He is real by the way) as he tries to avoid selling out. Also I will include as many real people (including jason maraz, muse, Grant morrison, Sam Hiti, Will Dinski, Andrew Zimmern, JK Rowling, and various other politicians writers and artists.) I will also include any other bloggers who want to be in the book. If you want to just leave me a comment.
Monday, June 28, 2010
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