Thursday, October 31, 2013

21 Day Challenge!

The last few months have been kind of rough as far as my weight goes.  Ok, let's face it, the last year has been...dicey.  But if I'm being honest with myself, weight has always been a struggle, and may very well be that until I slough off this mortal coil.  I'm getting to be ok with that, as long as I feel like I'm winning the battle. 

But this past year?  I've gained twelve pounds, and I'm just not comfortable.  I'm in between sizes, feeling unattractive, and I know something has to be done.  And so I build up giant dreams in the sky of what I'm going to do to lose the weight as quickly as possible, and yet, that plan does not include anything structured, and rather than focus on process I focus on what the scale has to say each day, and so my "plan" changes depending on what the demon scale feels like telling me that day.  Down 3 pounds?  Oh, I can afford a brownie!  Up 2?  I'm make plans to never eat again. 

And so I yoyo back and forth, spend a few days in intense workout mode, eating healthy, drinking water, and then...I slip.   It might be the tiniest slip, but in my mind, and compared with what I'd been doing, it feels like a slide, which is what it inevitably becomes as the guilt loads up and has its way with my mental health.  Before you know it I'm cramming every donut known to man down my gullet as I prepare for another few days of "being good".  And so, it ends up I don't really end up losing any weight, and in fact can end up gaining. 

Not that I can't do it, lose weight.  I've done it before.  And I don't always need to be on some regimented plan, but if I'm not, I need a motivation that will stay with me for a month or so.  After a break-up, this motivation is easy to come by, but at this particular moment in my life, the motivation isn't there and the self regimented plan isn't working.  And yet, I can't go on gaining weight, as I can  hardly stand walking by a mirror now, dreading what monster might be staring back at me.  And so I've started the "My Fit Foods" 21 Day Challenge. 

I started a couple of days ago, on the 29th, and am feeling both hungry and tired.  There's no caffeine allowed on this plan, and so I'm going through withdrawals, as usually I will drink two Diet Cokes a day, and maybe a cup of coffee.  I know this will go away after a couple of days, but in the meantime, it's hell.  But I keep on...

Here's what it entails.  I eat only their prepackaged meals, made fresh daily, with only the best carbs and lots of light proteins.  I work out, drink half my water, take vitamin supplements and drink a "cleanse" each morning.  So far, I've been eating the meals, but tomorrow starts my first "official day" and I will add the vitamins and the cleanse.  We'll see how it goes.  My goal right now...well, I'm keeping that to myself at the moment, but if I reach it when this whole thing is through, I'll be sure to let you know.

Monday, October 28, 2013

Time Travel To A Careless Meeting


I’ve wished I could re-meet you, just stumble into you at some hipster coffee shop while we wait for our grande non-fat lattes.  And once again you’d look in my eyes with that combination innocence and purpose.  We’d chat, bond over our shared loved of Lauren Graham in “Parenthood” and after awhile you’d casually brush my sleeve.  I'd wonder if it was an accident until you run your oddly delicate fingers up and down my non-existent bicep, and again, like then, I would know. 

Only this time I’d be prepared.  I’ve studied my shit up like Bill Murray in “Groundhogs Day” and you, miraculously do not remember having met before. 

And this time I would know to hold back, not to show my proverbial cards too easily, splayed out on the table in easy submission to your charms.    If I could only do that then I could wrap my arms around your zealful mystery again, put my lips on you as your tongue rushes to meet mine.

I hate fantasizing, holding fast to a non-existent you, this idealized you without the irresponsibilities, the lies of omission, without the carefully thought out/over mature decisions that shut out possibility.  But I miss that light, that wholesome, guiless, puppy dog sexuality.  Miss the way you danced and I could watch you, knowing what you’d move like later with the lights out from the seemingly careless swivel of your hips.

And yet, I know.  Know with certainty that life in this moment, the current set of situations, our separateness is for the best.  We cannot always save each other.  But we can savor each other.  Save that for a grocery store greeting card or a magnet that goes up on the fridge.  It's too clever.  Trite.  It says nothing.

If I could take a pill and make myself mysterious to you again- would I?

When you were mine, I was far from certain. 

Things I Will Miss When I Die

I will miss those great moments of being moved by something.  Those huge emotions.  Like the night in L.A., when I drunkenly stumbled to the stereo at the place I was sharing with my dear friend Berv and cranked up the stereo to hear “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”.  The depth of  emotion in Garland’s voice just produced so much longing.  I understood so much about the beauty within her, and the magic that was being produced.  And felt a longing for and a connection to sadness, because the only way you can truly feel sadness and longing is through having glimpsed true happiness.

I will miss flavors.  Lemon, pumpkin, caramel, cherry.

I will miss stars.  Driving out on the highway late at night, windows down, some fifties doo wop song in my ears, randomly exiting and then turning down a rarely travelled road.  Pulling over to the side and crawling on to the hood of my car.  Looking up into the stars in wonder.  Stars, proof of magic.

I will miss the sweet connection and companionship I get from Ira, and from Travis and Ross and Lambeau.  I've loved all my animal friends. 

I will miss holding someone I care about, lying in their arms, tucked up in them, nestled in them.  Feeling safe, and feeling like I am keeping them safe.

I will miss the frivolous things.  Daytime talk shows with their inane chatter and designer pillows.  Novelty glasses, comic book characters, Saturday morning cartoons...
 
I will miss having the kind of friend you can call and meet at the grocery store, or at Target, just to wander through and do your chores with someone.

I will miss nature.  Of feeling like a small thing amongst the majesty of the natural world that I exist in, and that was here long before me. 

I will miss the amazing feeling of a really good poop.  Sometimes that feels like the only accomplishment I need, and I rarely take it for granted.

I will miss the excitement of wandering in the woods on a trail, the feel of the air against me, the smell of wet leaves, the sound of water.

I will miss children, and their sweetness.  The way they look when they are discovering the world, their occasional faltering, their trust, their hope, their tiny little hands, the purity of them, the uncomplicated nature that I don’t know if I will ever get back.  Nothing can bring joy to a day like the sight of a kid in a Thor costume on a Tuesday, at Randalls.

I will miss the thrill of going to the movies with my mom.  The decadence of eating a big old box of buttered popcorn and drinking a Coke in the darkness, letting go of all kid-hood troubles and losing myself in the giant pictures and sounds up on the screen.  Sitting and waiting until the movie started again.  Seeing it a second time and feeling the jolt of excitement and the privilege of it.

I will miss the comfort, the surety and the retro stability of a good plaid shirt.

I will miss being bundled up in my bed with the ceiling fan on. 

I will miss flirting with that cute guy, brushing my arm up against his, and feeling his fingers brushing my bicep, realizing that he is flirting back.  I will miss the feeling of wanting to get lost in the experience of him, to dive in deep and come up gasping. 

I will miss playing dominos and shouting, laughing, singing with my crazy, perfectly imperfect family.

I will miss the wind hitting my face and fingertips.

I will miss dunking chocolate chip cookies in coffee.
 
I will miss the Hollywood Bowl.  Nights in the open air with a good friend, juggling picnic food, drinking red wine from plastic cups, listening to sumptuous music and occasionally glancing in their direction.    Whispering in their ear, straining to hear when they whisper something in mine.  Smiling next to them, knowing we are sharing a perfect night. 

 

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Keep it Clean, Keep it Neat, Keep it Dainty




Back in the day, these were the rules of "clean vaudeville", the phrase that separated the respectable acts you could bring your sweetheart to, without causing embarrassment or seeing anything to lewd or shocking.  I heard the phrase today, as I'm listening to American Rose: A Nation Laid Bare: The Life and Times of Gypsy Rose Lee, on cd as I jaunt about town.  I've had a copy of it since it came out, as I've always found that period of history, and the history of burlesque entertainment kind of fascinating.  And Gypsy herself is such a mystery, hidden by the persona she created and which much of the population takes as fact, if they've even heard of the musical Gypsy, which you can't take for granted anymore that they have.  Anyway, I happened upon an audio copy in the library, and it's currently keeping me company.  I'm determined to use the phrase "keep it clean, keep it neat, keep it dainty" in something.  Either as my personal ironic motto, or in some piece of fiction of play.  We'll see. 

The other things I'm filling my head with these days...

1.  Once Upon A Time on ABC.  I can't help myself.  I know it's trite, toothless, and half hazzardly written, like some hodge-podge piece that sticks any magical component wherever it pleases, whether it's stylistically appropriate or not, and lumps Frankenstein, Mulan, Robin Hood, and King Arthur and His Knights right along with all the other fairy tales, as the whim suits them.  In this way it's not unlike another show that I hate watched for awhile, Glee.  But instead of changing the plot with no concern for reason, or plot or character drives to insert the musical number they want, the writer's do the same to justify the inclusion of a particular character or fairy tale component.  Feel like sticking the little mermaid in the show?  Well, what if she lived in Neverland?  Cool.  There ya go.  I also can't stand the way they take the Disney version of these stories as gospel, which totally removes any edge from the stories they may have once had.  And the sets!  Most of them are green screened and the characters are blatantly painted in, making what I assume to be a pretty high budget show to look cheap.  And yet, I keep watching because fairy tales are my crack. 

2.  Master Chef Junior.  Oh lord, I can't help myself!  The kids are just so damned cute, and earnest and hard working, and they're are making shit like layer cakes and Beef Wellington!  And the judges are so sweet to them, molding these little young minds and giving them lots of affirmation (and yet, we the audience can tell when they've royally fucked up, through the coded language).  Even Gordon Ramsay is less of the raging asshole I usually find him to be, and will help the kids out if they get themselves into a real pickle.  But overall, the talent and knowledge and heart of these 10-13 year olds is what keeps me watching.  They are inspiring, no matter your age, and no matter how tired you may be of competition shows.  Thanks to Kirky G for the recommendation!

3.   Night Film by Marisha Pessl.  I've coveted it this unique and creepy novel for awhile, and was recently gifted it, and color me grateful.  Just picking it up, perusing the pages, you can catch a full and complete world within.  The paper quality is gorgeous, it just feels so good to pick it up and touch.  And the story within is a haunting page turner perfect for Halloween.  It's the story of a journalist who is looking into the apparent suicide of a beautiful young girl, the daughter of the reclusive filmmaker by the name of Cordova, who's films are so disturbing they are not available anywhere except in bootlegged versions and through underground viewing events.  The book is full of screen caps of websites, and other documents and photos relative to the characters, and it perfectly enhances the feeling of getting engulfed in another world, albeit a dangerous one.  There's also an online component which is loads of fun, but not necessary to the enjoyment.  If you download the "Night Film app" to your phone or tablet you can scan photos in the book which link to additional content, including audio interviews with the characters, movie posters from Cordova's filmography, and lots of other hidden treats I'll leave it to you to discover.  I'm about a third of the way, and addicted.

4.  Mad Monster Party.  This Rankin and Bass film was a favorite of mine as a kid, as it appeared often on television, and was done in the "Animagic" style like Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer, and The Year Without A Santa Claus.  It's a parody of and homage to the Universal monster movies of the thirties and though it was originally billed as kid's fare it's peppered with adult humor and in-jokes including vocal performances by Boris Karloff and Phyllis Diller, as well as some great vocal impersonations of Jimmy Stewart, Claude Rains, Peter Lorre, and Charles Laughton.  It also features a very James Bondesque sixties mod theme song performed by Ethel Ennis, and of course, my favorite character from the film is the red headed bombshell assistant to Baron von Frankenstein, Francesska.  who sounds like Kathleen Turner and looks like a precursor to Jessica Rabbit.

If you've got any opinions on these works, recommendations for great Halloween viewing, or other thoughts, I'd love to hear them...

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Jim Henson: The New Biography by Brian Jay Jones

The first in-depth biography about Jim Henson "Jim Henson", by Brian Jay Jones, was published last month on his birthday, and I quickly got a hold of a copy and eagerly devoured it. 

I started with reservations, and lots of questions.  Would it be true to him?  Would it capture his spirit?  Would it discuss his creative process and vision or would it be salacious and too personal.  Well, the book was authorized by his family, so there was little to be worried about to that extent.  However, it might gloss over any flaws and present him as a shining beacon of perfection.  It might be completely dry, and tinged with golden hues like a lot of the material on Disney.  But after the first twenty or so pages that cover his family history, and were to me a little confusing, I'm glad to say the book is engrossing, sweet spirited, and perfectly walks the line of personal and professional.  It explores his genius, his desires and drives and dreams and his shortcomings in the context of a whole person, delves into how his being and his vision affected his work and the world in a truly wonderful way, and it also acknowledges that his workaholic tendencies and his desire to avoid confrontation did not always make him an easy person to be an intimate partner with.  It's really fair to all the people, and I was glad to see it shined a light on some of the wonderful contributions that Jane Henson provided both to the business and to his family life.  Too often I think she gets short shrift, and that doesn't happen here. 

There is so much in this book that is wonderful.  There are great glimpses at what a gentle and generous soul he was, and what a prolific and sensitive artist he was, with lots of behind the scenes peeks at what it was on the set of television shows Sesame StreetThe Muppet Show, and his films The Muppet Movie, The Dark Crystal, and Labyrinth.  Most importantly, it makes you want to delve deeper into the work he and his colleagues left behind.  So much of it is available on DVD and online, and it's worth watching.  If you haven't, please take a look at some of the early works as well as the later.  , and on DVD.  Steep in it.  You won't be sorry you did.  Here's one of my personal favorites...



To close, I want to share a passage in Jim's own words that are in the bio and discuss his personal philosophy of life, and that I found pretty inspiring...


"I’ve read and studied about various other ways of thinking, and I like the way most religions are based on the same good, underlying principals… I believe in taking a positive attitude toward the world, toward people, and toward my work.  I think I’m here for a purpose.  I think it’s likely that we all are here, but I’m only sure about myself.  I try to tune myself in to whatever it is that I’m supposed to be, and I try to think of myself as a part of all of us-all mankind and all life.  I find it’s not easy to keep these lofty thoughts in mind as the day goes by, but it certainly helps me a great deal to start out this way… Despite this discussion of things spiritual, I still think of myself as a very “human” being, I have the full complement of weaknesses, fears, problems, ego and sensuality.  But I think this is why we’re here-to work our way through all this and, hopefully come out a bit wiser and better for having gone through it all.”

Friday, October 4, 2013

Airy Fairy

When I was living in L.A., struggling to make money as an actor (money, the world's standard by which we can be tempted to judge our own value) I found a life altering book.  It was written by Carolyn Myss, who had made her name as a "medical intuitive".  She'd appeared on Oprah a few times and written a book called Spritual Anatomy: Why People Don't Heal and How They Can.  It discussed the connection between our emotional state and our physical state, and how some chronic emotions could link up with chronic physical pain.   This was something I found intriguing, but a little too airy fairy for me to get fully behind.  It wasn't until I read Sacred Contracts: Awakening Your Divine Potential, that I really resonated with what she had to say. 

She builds upon the work of Jung, Plato, and Joseph Campbell, exploring the concept of archetypes and the role they can play in our personal lives.  For those who aren't sure what an archetype is, it's a commonly understood and experienced pattern of behavior, as expressed through a character symbol.  They are easily found in religious texts and in myth, but are also teeming in our popular culture and our personal lives.  The queen, the divine child, the prostitute, the wounded healer...  These are archetypes.  And a prostitute isn't limited to our literal understanding of "prostitute".  It's not just the prostitute from the Bible, or from Pretty Woman.  It's anyone who compromises themselves or their word for worldly security.  The 55 year old pencil pusher who always dreamed of being a novelist and yet gave up his ambitions to live in a plush home in the right neighborhood with the accepted four door sedan?  That's the prostitute archetype in action. 

Archetypes are ways of understanding the behavior of our lives.  They are role models, examples we can learn from.  According to Myss, we all have four archetypes that we share.  They are common to all people, no matter their circumstances.  We also have a primary companion archetype which relates to our basic energy, our drive and our purpose.  All these archetypes can be used in a variety of ways. 

It was kind of a divine coincidence when I happened upon an acting teacher that really inspired me and seemed to understand everything I was going through in my life, and who's work was largely based upon finding our unique strengths as actors and personalities through the use of archetypes.  He really helped me find myself, my gifts, and to look at the things about me that I had always considered "flaws" that needed hiding, in a different light.  Those "flaws", according to Johnny, were part of my full self and needed to be shared.  Shining a light on them created intimacy with the audience and freed my true self.  Rather than try and hide something that the camera will inevitably see?  When your struggles will be apparent and the efforts will ring as false and forced.  Some of us will never be the "lumber jack".  It's not where our truth lies.  And if we struggle to be the burly lumberjack that we think others want to see in us, not only will we fail, but we will never let them see the "angel" that is our power and our reason for being.  I shouldn't have been surprised to learn that Johnny had worked with Carolyn Myss and that he used a lot of her principles as the basis for his work.

As a result of that class and Carolyn's book, I really learned how important it is to stop comparing myself to others, to stop trying to be something I wasn't and to "let my own light shine".  Cliché, but true.  It's a journey I'm still on, and am far from completing, and with lots of stumbling blocks on the way, but I do feel that every day I'm getting more and more in touch with and getting closer to expressing that divine spark as I uniquely embody it. 

Talk about "airy fairy".  But the thing is, if it's something that rings true for me, no matter how ethereal and whimsical it may seem to others, it ain't "airy fairy" to me.

The Front Seat

I recently heard Garrison Keillor on  NPR, reading from his book of poetry, O, What A Luxury: Verses Lyrical, Vulgar, Pathetic and Profound.  Like a lot of his work, the poetry he's written seems tailor made for the unpinnable "everyman", as it's simple, straightforward, and even rhymes.  And yet, within the simplicity of the work there is often something lovely to ponder on. 

Here's the poem that stuck with me, and made me feel nostalgic and slightly giddy:


"The Front Seat"
I fell in love in the front seat of a '56 Ford
At a drive-in movie, sliding over toward
A girl in shorts and necking a little
on a bench seat, no gearshift in the middle.
She was young and eager — it didn't take much
To slip her in gear and let out the clutch
But the beautiful bench where we performed our feats
Has been replaced by two bucket seats
And a brake lever, gearshift, and armrest
Between me and the girl I love best,
Which is sensible and safer, perhaps,
Two people restrained by safety straps,
But if safety were all that people thought of
Then who would ever fall in love?

Vader's Little Princess

When I was a kid, like every other boy my age, I was a Star Wars fanatic.  I collected everything I could get my hands on, including Dixie cups, trading cards, and as many action figures as I could get my hands on.  I even asked the hair dresser to cut my hair like Luke Skywalker's.  The thing I never got, but always coveted when I saw it at a friend's house, was the Millenium Falcon, which had a secret compartment to hide a couple of your action figures in while the Empire searched for them in vain.  While I never got the Falcon, I did have one of my best Christmases ever, when I received a hand crafted Ice Planet Hoth playset that my Dad had made. 

I wish I had pictures, as I remember it being mammoth sized, and having a little cave, a battle station, a ramp...it was from Styrofoam mostly, and there were little pegs in strategic points to place the figures in.  Of course, the stories I made up with them were a little more like soap operas than I imagine the average kid's were, but I had a blast with those toys, and would play my Empire Strikes Back soundtrack as I played so I could have a soundtrack to work with.

As I got older, other fascinations took over, but I still am delighted when I see certain Star Wars collectibles and books, such as the one I found today, Vader's Little Princess.

 
It imagines what things might have been like if Darth Vader had had an active role in raising Leia.  It's a follow-up of course, to Jeffrey Brown's first book Darth Vader and Son.  And I just love how whimsical and humorous it is, and how big hearted it is.  Anyway, both books made me chuckle and gave me a fresh way to look at the Star Wars trilogy.



  

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Fecking Awesome Kidhood Treasure: The View-Master

During my really young years, when it was just my Mom and me (aided by my seemingly ever present Aunts) we didn't have a lot of money, and so most of the toys I got, unless it was Christmas, or a birthday, came from garage sales and second hand stores.  I'm not saying this is the reason I love antiques today, but I will say I was instilled from the beginning with a love of things that had stories long before they came into my happy little hands.  And because of the garage sale finds, I got a lot of toys and treasures that that had gone out of fashion by the random whim of kids.  And sometimes we happened on an absolute treasure, like a View-Master, complete with a carrying case and multiple individual sets of View-Master "reels" that the person before me must have taken some time to collect, and purchased individually would have been more than we could have reasonably spent on toys for me.   

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the View-Master, it was a kids own personal slide show.  I would hold it up to my eyes and disappear into a 3 dimensional world starring the Flinstones, Bugs Bunny, Bambi, all the characters of my childhood.  I would click my way through an entire story and then view the whole story again, soaking up the details of the world.  There were little booklets that went along with the reels, and if you wanted you could stop and read the story as you clicked along, but I rarely did that, preferring to make up my own stories.






 I used to spend hours flipping through the different reels, of which there were two kinds.  There was the kind that looked like an animated drawing (eh) and the one that looked like a three dimensional world, like the characters might look if they were real.  It was the latter style that I went back to again and again, because it made me feel like I might be able to step right inside that world.  There was more care, more craftsmanship put into them, more life.


The advent of home video made the View-Master relatively unnecessary, but back in the day...magical.  It reminds me of what Ray Bradbury said about lack inspiring imagination, and it's true.  Limits inspire us to to do things we never would consider if we had everything at our beck and call.

Stereoscope, the precursor to the View-Master


I never really thought about how they made those View-Master slides back in the day, but I happened upon some pretty amazing pictures that show the process, and I can only imagine that this was a pretty delightful job to have back then, or would have been to me, and I'm awfully  grateful to the people who made these photos and allowed me to escape into this lovely little world for awhile.



 

Cursive

  Last week I returned to doing my  morning pages , a practice I was committed to for years, and then abandoned, at least partially in the d...