I am so proud

My brother, Matt, the 39 year old Army recruit, was interviewed by FoxNews today. Go here and see why we're all proud of him. He's the best:

http://foxnews.com

Type Coming of Age in the search box and choose Video, not story

Glass Hearts in Glass Houses

In her trademark ethereal prose, Alice Hoffman presents the story of a family who are slaves to love and don't know how to escape the bonds. In her latest magic-tinged novel, Skylight Confessions, methodical John falls inexplicably in love with dreamy Arlyn. The two are such polar opposites that they emotionally struggle against each other more than they come together. Their son, Sam, is scarred by the deasth of his mother and bewildered by her torrid affair with a local window washer that produces his adored younger sister, Blanca. Sam fights a losing battle with his father, his stepmkother and drugs due to grief over his mother's death, while Blanca spends her childhood playing peacemaker. Only their nanny, Meredith, can soothe Sam's tumultuous spirit and comfort Blanca. All are haunted by the ghost of Arlyn who manifests herself in mourning doves, unexpected showers of ashes and broken dishes. This family of emotional misfits must look to Sam's son, Will, to patch up the crevices of their souls.

While I'm a diehard fan of Hoffman's writing style, I felt this story was rushed and unfinished. Story threads were left dangling and theree was no character or story development involving the grandson, Will. Blanca is also left with parts of her life unresolved. Readers may feel unsated by the novel's finale.

Y-Front Photo Shoot

So. Now you know what happens on a film set. Here's what happens at an underwear photo shoot.

The room is toasty warm. All the radiators are on full blast and there are girls and women walking around in the designer undies and t-shirts. We're in the bedroom trying on the designs and waiting while the designer makes her descisions about who is wearing what. We're in the kitchen munching on the fruit and veggies the designer so graciously provided. We're on the screened porch, flashing passersby and having a smoke. We're in the front room, bopping along with Robert Moore on the radio. No one is bitching about hating their boobs, or being fat, or needing a nose job. With this crowd, we're all trying to come up with dirty jokes about the emblems on our "couture cooch covers."

The photographer is the only guy in the room. He can't stop grinning at all of us and telling us we look great. But he means it. He's not being patronizing. The first shot he wants is a group shot.

All the girls line up in a row before the windows. Chins up, boobs out, "don't look at the camera!" (we will hear that phrase a hundred times today). I am standing in between Venus and Sheila and Venus wraps an arm around me. Sheila wears one of her patented looks and reaches around to pinch my ass. I pinch her back and then everyone is laughing and playing grab ass and the camera clix away.

Then we yell "designer shot" and Twitt gets in the middle. We all look adoringly at her until she claps her hands and says, "Okay people, back to work!" By work, Twitt means, sit on the floor and wait until you are called to pose in your skivs in an artful manner inspired by your colored t-shirt, underwear design and whatever wacky prop we can find. Twitt opens a couple bottles of wine and Nutty, Venus and I imbibe, Sheila breaks out her unfiltered apple juice and we all take swigs of that with the wine. Not bad.

While the photographer is shooting, we're all yelling out suggestions (some are taken seriously, some ignored); stretching; passing the wine and cookies; admiring each other's undie designs and making plans for that evening--Roller Derby, Brick, or Owen/Cox Dance Group? We debate the merits of girls beating up girls, guys shredding guitars, and ultrahipjazzballet. No one talks about being too fat to be a model or how self conscious they feel in their knickers. Instead, we bitch about our tennies and how worn out everyone's Chucks are.

Finally, we are a headline kickline below the belt:

What they DON'T teach you in underwear model school

Ya gotta SHAVE! EVERYWHERE!

Deets on the shoot later. Off to dinner, roller derby, dance performance, The Brick.

Marky Mark and Me

Now I am an underwear model. I think I am doing this backwards. Aren't emerging showbiz types supposed to pose in campy adds in scanty lingerie and THEN do nude scenes in movies?!?! Apparently I am not following the prescribed HWood formula for success....

Twittering Machine needs "real" women to model the very kewl underwear she has designed. I will blog about that tomorrow evening after the photo shoot. All the rock wives are getting together to help her promote her "wears". Then we are going to the Plaza and do our "Little Dutch Girl" impersonations for the hoi polloi. Heh.

I will post pics if they give them to us. You won't able to see our faces, but I will be the one in orange.

Go Scare Yourself

Horror just gave birth to terror.

Joe Hill's debut novel, Heart-Shaped Box, is so hip and so frightening that you can expect to see some scaredy copy cats next year.

Aging metal rock god, Jude Coyne, is enjoying his semi-retirement on his reclusive farm with his beloved dogs, current groupie girlfriend, Georgia, and a creepy hobby, collecting objects des macabres. In his collection Jude owns a used hangman's noose, a signed confession from a witch, and a cannibal cookbook. Now Jude is about to add a ghost to his collection. The spectre resides in an old-fashioned Sunday suit and he's on a revenge mission.

Hill employs a tone that is gleefully morbid and drives a plot that plunges and flies like a rollercoaster trying to dump all of its shrieking passengers. Sprinkled liberally with snarky humor and ghoulish jokes, teens will get a kick out of this novel that pays homage to Stephen King.

This book was discussed on The Walt Bodine Show 's Book Doctors program March 12, 2007. 2007. KCUR 89.3

Movie Set: Take 1

Well, THAT was interesting.

My friend Jim asked me to be in a short film he is directing/producing/editing/acting, etc. Apparently the only quality I had to possess was red hair and a colorful bra. Julia Roberts better watch out!

Filming began at 8 am this morning. Which means I got up at 6, showered, made enough coffee to see me through til lunch and hunted around for a book. When I get to the set, I sign a release allowing my image to be used, blahblahblah.

The whole filming process was a combination of fascination, tedium and patience. The other two women on the set know exactly what is supposed to happen. I don't, and this is my first visit to the set, so I receive special explanations. First, I am told that even though I have agreed to film in my colorfuol bra, the creative process is still developing and the director thinks maybe a series of shots of the scene WITHOUT the bra would work in the film. I think, "This is how self-respecting actresses get caught naked. Last minute changes." But I trust this guy and he says there won't be anything risque' and I believe him.

The director then explains how the day's shooting will go and shows us all the set. SS is watching the monitor and contolling the camera. The director and LL will be in the first scene. I am to watch how the scene is set up so I will know what to do for MY scene. After observing the first five minutes I know all I need for my part.

After that, I got two words for filming a movie. Bo. Ring. Well, the process is boring, but I wasn't bored.

I shuffle to the back of the set and munch on some fruit and nuts that were left for the crew (there's only four of us). I read my book. I crunch on an apple. 45 minutes goes by. The director is done with the first scene and now we have to watch what he calls "dailies." This is both dull AND funny. It's dull because we're watching the same scene over and over. It's funny because we all know what was going on while the scene was being shot. LL's stomach was growling. Her hand began to get sore from holding the book. Then the director pops the headphones off and scans the set. "We're going to have to reshoot the first scene. There was too much noise in the background." Apparently, growling stomachs and apple munching sounds carry MUCH better than anyone expected.

The director and the first actor set up the shot again and I return to my chair at the back of the set. I throw away my apple core, pick up my book and only turn pages when I can hear the director giving directions.

I don't really have anyone to talk to. And I don't know anyone besides the director anyway. The other actor is nice, but I don't have anything to say to her after the idle pleasantries. I wonder briefly if this is what it's like for bigname actors. They can't ALL know each other. It must be kinda awkward. I thought so, anyway. If anyone asked me about LL I could tell you how big her boobs are and the rhythm of her heartbeat and how curly her hair is. I'd say she was friendly, but I don't know her well enough to say anything else. And we were almost naked!

Finally we're ready for my scene with LL. She and I take off our shirts and get in position and I let the director arrange my hair. I giggle to myself as I realize that our hair, mine and LL's, are the starring feature in this scene. The director says, "Added bonus! You have a tattoo. Let's get that in the shot."

So. What do you think about while you're filming a scene? Here's what went through my mind: Don't breathe too loudly. I can hear LL's stomach gurgling. I can hear LL's heartbeat. Ba-bump-bump. Ba-bump-bump. Time to move my head to the center. I think I have to pee. My toes are cold. My arms are uncomfortable. My neck is getting a little stiff. Time to move my head to the right. The director rearranges my hair again. I start to drift off. Oh, we're done?

Now we watch dailies again. Boring. I watch for a minute and am utterly unimpressed with my image. So I go to the bathroom and get another handful of nuts. LL and I are walking around the set in our underwear. We know we'll just have to do this again and there's no point in getting dressed and neither of us brought cover ups. But we don't need them. The set is very warm. We do the entire scene again, all the angles. On the very last angle, the moment we're done, the director says, "That's the shot." As LL and I get up from the bed and pull on our tops and I fish around for my glasses, the director cues up these latest takes. At the very last take, he and SS tap the monitor screen and say, "That's the one. Look at the hair and the contrast." The director turns to LL and me, smiles and says, "We're done. Thanks for your patience and cooperation." It's taken two hours to get the necessary ten seconds of film the director needed.

I'm informed that I have two more scenes to do and the director will call when he's ready to schedule them. But in those scenes, I get more costume than just a bra.

I learned quite a bit about the creative process and how it bloody changes from moment to moment. Because most of my responses during the course of the shoot were, "Whatever you want" and "It's okay with me" and "Yeah, I can do that" I've been deemed "flexible" and "easy to work with" and "likely to work again."

Now, THERE'S a talent. Shrugging and saying, "fine" whenever someone asks you something.

Read this

No, not ME!!!

M.Toast! She was in the Kansas City Star this morning for The Hivemind

http://m-toast.livejournal.com/

Go. Shoo. Read in good humor.

#19 in the Transit Epiphany Series

I'm on the Maxx and bored with reading. So I start watching my fellow passengers. No one is doing ANYTHING interesting.

Then this grizzled old guy limps onto the bus wearing a hunter's cap and using a cane. He's wearing grubby, ripped pants and he won't sit down, choosing to lean against the steel bar up front so he can rasp at the driver. "Whadda ya mean, why do I go there? Why do people rob a bank? 'Cause that's where the money is. That's why I work the Plaza." He shakes his dirty Starbucks cup near the bus driver's ear. "That's where the money is."

I fish in my wallet for some change. I figured that story was worth it.

Sage wisdom from a wisegal

My sister cracks me up. Here, calm down already.

Calmness in our lives
I am passing this on to you because it definitely works, and we could all use a little more calmness in our lives. By following simple advice heard on the Dr. Phil show, you too can find inner peace. Dr Phil proclaimed, "The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started and have never finished."


So, I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished, and before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a liter of Diet Pepsi, a bottle of Zinfandel, a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream, a bottle of Vodka, a package of Oreos, the remainder of my old Prozac
prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some Doritos and a box of chocolates.


You have no idea how freaking good I feel! Please pass this on to those whom you think might be in need of inner peace.