Pointless Man

Game of Thrones (hereafter Game of Dwarf or just Dwarf , in honour of the only reason to see the show) is about as banal as the prose in the novels which spawned it. Though I continue to watch (for the dwarf, of course), I don't care about the vast majority of the characters, fights, or intrigues on screen. They tend to be as joyless as the sex-as-penetration-only to which we are regularly treated in Dwarf , which seems to hold a world with perhaps five people who are even aware of the possibility of foreplay. Though much of this is likely the fault of the ham-handed George R. R. Martin, I do not blame him. What more can be expected from a formerly illiterate pirate? You may think I'm just making this up, but how else would you explain the prominent 'R's in his name; his poor understanding of strategy and better grasp of tactics; his tepid and repetitious prose juxtaposed with his crisp banter; his largely transactional (or rapey) and generally uncomprehending vie...

Prose and verse are generally accepted as distinct writing formats with their own rules, styles, and grammars.  Though their borders are somewhat vague, they have come to be seen as something of a dichotomy in the eyes of the general public.  There are, however, at least 3 other popular approaches to writing as exhibited in picture-books, comicbooks, and plays.  Though sometimes given short shrift, these styles are accepted as literature.  They are included in libraries, book stores, and academic study.  Most importantly, they are read. In the general case, there is clearly writing being done in the creation of any one of these.  But what of the wordless comic or silent play?  Should we consider scripts written, but fully realized plays, comics, and picture-books, to be performance, art, or some other kind of non-literature?  These worries of theory are kinks to be worked out, surely, but they are not of immediate practical concern to the writer...

I have now read three novels and one collection of essays by Michael Chabon, and a series of comics based around his character, the Escapist, created within the pages of The Amazing Adventures Kavalier and Clay . All were satisfying in their own way, and I admit I couldn't put down the aforementioned award winning book, but none were quite so compelling as The Yiddish Policemen's Union .

I came across the odd statement, "Though many of the themes are similar, Beckett had little affinity for existentialism as a whole." Right. Name me an existentialist for whom that isn't true. How many grains of salt must one have before one is prepared to read an encyclopedia?

It's only been 9 years since I set out to find myself a copy of Eugene Ionesco's collected essays and lectures after running across a snippet in a class on avant garde theatre. The effort hasn't been sustained, but I've never really forgotten. Out of print in English since its initial release in 1964, I have never seen it at any used book store in Seattle--and I've checked around. When I was able to find it online, it was either way too expensive ($40 to $75 plus fees), or I was broke. But! I finally found a copy for less than $10 after shipping, and it arrived today. Formerly of Euclid Public Library in Euclid Ohio, it still has its checkout card attached, and there's a sticker on the back reminding whoever last borrowed it to return the volume by March 21, 1994. This is it. Theory from the master absurdist on art, drama, what it means to be in the vanguard, and how to stay there. Explanations and thoughts from the man who wrought Rhinoceros , Macbett , and Ame...

Having been conceived over ten years ago, it has long puzzled me that no other accounts of these events have been published. Yes, it was more than a decade ago when I first set out with my friend, JB, to write the story of the Beatdown Squad and its fateful encounters with that infamous Mass Murder Guy. We got so far as a rough script detailing the Squad's misadventures in a nameless prison--a tale which housed the origin of the Squad's interest in Mass Murder. After accomplishing an outline of what would follow, the project foundered. However, my involvement did not end there, nor did I cease involving others. I cannot say how many people I have regaled with the Squad's exploits, but surely it was enough for someone else to take up this task. The Beatdown Squad and Mass Murder Guy will not leave me alone. They insist their story be told. I cannot express how bitter their persistence has made me. Their demands can be resisted no longer. Well, fine then. In some measure of v...

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Instead, there was nothing. How much time might have passed, had there been time while this state persisted, cannot be said. Anything might have been birthed into this void. Probably, a number of real and imaginary objects came into and out of existence, there being no laws to stop such occurrences, and nothing to sustain them. Indeed, in the absence of physical and logical laws, something could come from nothing--and that is exactly how God came to be. Noticing nothing else in existence, God fashioned the universe, an orderly mess, in clear counterpoint to the neat chaos of the void. Being, as an author once put it, "unstuck in time", God saw everything that ever was or would be in its creations, all at once. God also watched the universe as it unfolded, seeing each act only as it transpired. And, then, God did not see any of it at all. Yes, God did and did not do all of this at the same time. For although it had made logical and ph...

Well, I read a bit until I felt suitably tired. Didn't get all the way through, but the point is it's been a while since I read a book of prose. It had also been quite some time since I'd taken a crack at this particular novel, which I set down in order to take up school work instead back in 1995. I guess I was using a stub from what was a recent a bank deposit as a bookmarker, so I know I stopped reading the thing around April 28, way back. It's too bad I didn't finish The Red Badge of Courage at the time. Seems like it's pretty well written, and a single glance at any printing will tell you it's short. I could have gone through it in a day at the time. I'm a bit slower now, being out of practice, but school work or no--and my teachers at the time liked to coordinate assignments so we would be swamped--I'm not sure why I put this thing down 11 years ago and failed to pick it up again.

Movies based on books ought to be expected to be as separate from their origins as movies 'based on a true story'. To complain that such a flick is not true to its source is perhaps to assume that it should have to slavishly recreate the original work. A movie can sometimes do well with that sort of approach, (as, say, with Fight Club ), but not all films can stand to follow the particulars of a story written more than 20 years ago for an entirely different entertainment medium and audience. Saying V for Vendetta works on its own as a movie, does a fair job expressing the import of the individual over the government and dealing with difficult issues such as terrorism, is not to say it is superior to the comic it is based upon. Saying one should attempt to appreciate or enjoy it as a piece by itself (as most will, having not read the book), is not to say comparisons between the comic and the film should be avoided altogether. It is possible to have had fun watching V , and stil...

"Her eyes are a little too alive," he said in an overly stealthy voice. I tried to warn him, but it was too late. "You're being too quiet," I told him. "You're drawing attention to yourself." He wouldn't listen. "I'm right, though, aren't I?" he intoned. It was barely above a whisper. He was right--I had to change the subject. "That's not the point," I breathed. "You're too--" I could hardly hear myself. I had fallen into his beguiling attempt at fading into the woodwork, and now we both stood out more than if we had been shouting. I could feel their eyes on us. No one knew what we had been talking about, they only knew we didn't wish to be heard. Most of all, I could feel her eyes, glistening with something I knew not. 'Too alive.' I knew that.

Douglas Post is an excellent, articulate, and accomplished playwright of multiple genres, a fair and original lyricist and composer, and my favorite uncle (out of anybody's uncles anywhere). It disappoints me to see that many in the drama world outside Chicago are unfamiliar with the man and his plays. Personal bias aside, his Earth and Sky stands as perhaps the best play I have ever read. It was going to be a movie for a while. Somebody bought the rights, commissioned Doug to do the screenplay, then they had him do it over again, then they asked someone else, and then the project died down. But Doug deserved to have that play known. I would suggest reading the play (or getting ahold of the radio production of it) to anybody, even people who aren't into reading scripts. Likewise for Drowning Sorrows . Doug excels at writing mysteries unbound by genre, where the gripping matters are personal more than plot related, and these are my favorite examples of his work in that vein. He...