Scathed no vox mix

I just uploaded this new tune--click one of the links above to give it a listen. The version with vocals will be up in the next couple of days.

Let me know what you think!

Recurring life themes

I don't believe in the supernatural.

There is no god. No ghosts. No magic. No psychics. Nothing like that exists.

However, I do believe that there are some physical laws of our Universe that are not understood, or maybe haven't even been guessed at. Quantum mechanics, vibrations at a subatomic level, particles, vibrations on a string . . .

My life consists of shifting, often meaningless themes that crop up constantly. Sometimes it lasts for a few days, sometimes, weeks. Occassionally months. Even a lifetime.

I'm not talking about stuff that I do, or control--I've been a loner, single, girlfriend-less, most of my life, and that's not really a mystery to me. That's something within my sphere of influence. Nothing odd about it, really, or, I should say, nothing not understood.

But take, say, spiderwebs. Not cobwebs you see gathering dust in corners. Not those nasty webs woven by black widows, or the intricate creations of garden spiders. I'm talking those single threads that those tiny spiders use to rappell down from a height.

You know what I'm talking about--go walking in a wooded area one morning and you'll get caught in a few.

I can't move over the past few days without getting caught in one of those things. They are suddenly everywhere. Even in the bed of my truck. After a couple of days I realized this was the theme of the week for me.

A month or so ago it was website crashes. Every time I tried to log onto a website it crashed. This happened to me at work and at home, two completely different networks, and all I was doing to trying to load a home page. Bam. Down. Or really, really, REALLY slow . . .

Sometimes I wonder if there isn't some sort of supernatural force trying to tell me something with these things. Then maybe I'm just seeing connections where there are none. Humans are bad about that sort of thing. Which is where religion and superstition come from in the first place.

So, I chalk it up to coincidence, or a vibration of a string, or emissions of a mysterious, undiscovered quark.

Roen

I just posted Chapter 15 of my novel--check the blogs at the iLike or MySpace link above, or Notes in Facebook, if you're curious. You can find the previous chapters there, too.

This is the next-to-last installment. I'm putting the final two chapters together into one posting, since the last chapter is more of a coda than anything.

Anyway, it's there for your reading pleasure if you're interested. Let me know what you think!

My idea for a reality show . . .

You find, say, 10 really annoying people. Five men, five women. You audition as many as you have to, until you have found the ten most annoying people available. Then you make them all live together and film the results.

That's the extent of the gimmick. It'll be a smash. Why? Because, for some reason, people these days absolutely can't get enough of annoying people.

I really don't understand this. I personally avoid annoying people, every chance I get. But listening to other folks talking about these idiotic reality shows, for hours and hours and hours, convinces me that there is money to be made here.

Do you watch these things? If you do, think about the people you talk about the most to your friends. Are they the cool people, the ones you'd want to hang around with? Or the ones that you think need a good swift kick in the ass? Trust me, it's the latter that you find fascinating.

So, that's my pitch. Any producers out there, you can contact me about it.

I'll leave the casting and the watching up to other people. I just don't think I could handle it.

Sunday Afternoon randomness

Okay, it's 96 degrees right now according to www.weather.com--just got in from walking my Akita and I can believe it. It's ridiculously hot out there. Atari, for his part, finished his business quickly and came back in without protest. He and I are both cool weather dogs.

I finished the basic rhythm tracks for my new tune, "Scathed." It's going to be a little different from my previous tracks. Sort of like "Beast of Love" but not quite as dark. I really enjoyed recording the bass line for this one--I love playing bass, especially my six-string Schecter Stilletto. It's such a bad-ass. And on this tune it's not just a simple droning bass line--it actually gets to sing!

I finished my rerunning of the entire The West Wing TV series the other day, and now just finished watching (again) the final season of Stargate: Atlantis. Trying to decide now what else to put in the DVD player. I'm not really in the mood for anything I have here. May just go to hulu.com and watch old episodes of Bones or something.

I know, I really should be doing something productive. In a little while I'm going to make some sesame chicken for dinner--does that count?

I'm just trying to keep my mind busy so I don't think about the next two weeks. About half (or even more) of the people I work with are going to be on vacation. I wouldn't be surprised if someone else didn't call in sick three or four days, either. So, for those of us who remain, it's going to be busy. Thankfully we get a holiday next Monday.

Hopefully work won't leave me too tired to work on my music this week--I really want to get this one done but there's still a long way to go on it. Gonna be a lot of tracks--more rhythm guitars, leads, a synth line, some fills I'll probably do with the Strat . . . not to mention the vocal. I'll be doing something else a little different for this one, too--I'm going to do one mix without a vocal and one with. Why the hell not?

So, what are you up to this Sunday afternoon?

Pieces of You now up

Click one of the links above so you can hear my newest tune, "Pieces of You." Turn it up loud. To heck with the neighbors.

MJ

Yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of Michael Jackson's death.

I've refrained from blogging about him until now, but maybe this is the time for me to admit that I never got Michael Jackson, musically. I never heard the genius. All I heard was standard pop music. Which I almost always find boring.

Part of my problem with his stuff is, the actual music is only part of it. There's the dancing and the other crap that goes on during his shows. That's something I have no interest in, all the choreographed nonsense. For a music act it all boils down to one thing---is the music any good? If that answer is "no" then you can have all the dancers, lasers, elaborate stages, video screens, whatever, but it won't be very interesting to me.

I guess the rest of it is it's just not my cup of tea. I just didn't hear anything in his stuff that interested me.

I got no problem with his fans--those who want to mark the anniversary of his death, who still mourn him and want to celebrate his life. Good for you. I totally understand that part--this past year has been rough on me, too, with some of *my* icons dying. Peter Steele, Ronnie James Dio, Paul Gray . . . their deaths hit me, really hard, so I understand what it feels like. Not to mention the grief I felt over the years over John Lennon, Bon Scott . . . so, do what you feel like you must.

Just, please, don't inflict his music on me.

An idea I'll probably never use

A girl comes home from college for Spring Break, unexpected by her parents.

She was going on a trip with her boyfriend but they'd had a violent argument and broken up. So, she decides to drop in on her parents, who were always complaining that they never get to see her or her older brother and sister anymore.

She drives up and dad is working in the yard, pruning the hedge. (Mom and dad have been retired for around four years.) Dad is delighted to see her, and says mom is taking a nap--she'd had a strenuous morning and wanted to relax a while.

They go inside and as they talk the daughter notices dad keeps turning away from her, like he doesn't want her to see the left side of his face. She finally corners him and takes a look. There's a big, ugly mark on his neck. A bruise? A melanoma? Did he fall or something? No. It's a hickey! Gross!

Then mom comes in, hearing them talking, and she's walking with a stiff-legged gait. She says she's fine, her legs are just a little sore because she'd been in an . . . unusual position for an extended period. Dad emits a Me-Tarzan "heh" when she says that and daughter figures out that mom and dad, now that they finally, after over twenty years, have the house to themselves, and are having hot and nasty sex pretty much every chance they get. Which is often. Of course, having daughter home sort of puts a kink into their plans for a little while, so to speak . . .

It's a sort of role-reversal thing, and a study of family dynamics and shifting roles, and how things change as people age. Again, I'll probably never do anything with it, but I thought it was an interesting idea, maybe as part of something larger.

Superstitions?

I'm one of those people who doesn't believe in anything that I can't see or experience in some way.

It exasperates some of my religious friends, but I'm sorry--I guess I just don't have the "faith" gene. I see no evidence for any god and I don't have any faith to fill in that very large gap.

(And please note that I'm not attacking anybody's religion--your faith is your business. Like my lack thereof is mine.)

But I do have a stupid superstition that keeps hanging on.

I pick up pennies when I find them lying on the ground, if they are on heads, and I can reach them without putting myself at physical risk.

I know it's stupid. But let me tell you a true story about this particular hangup of mine.

One day I was doing laundry in the laundry-mat at my apartment complex. There were guys mowing the lawn outside the building. It was hot so the windows were open. I was sorting my whites from my colors and I remember thinking what a dumbassed idea it was, that finding and picking up a penny that was just lying on the ground with the "heads" side up would bring luck, when I heard a metallic clink.

The lawn mower outside had apparently kicked up a penny that was in the grass and the blades shot it through the window of the laundrymat, where it richocheted around and came to rest on the floor in front of me.

On heads. Damn.

New chapter up!

I just uploaded Chapter 14 of my novel, Roen: Pronounced Rowan, if you're interested. Click on the link to my MySpace or ILike pages, above, to read it in the blog, or to my Facebook page to read it in notes.

Scathed

I met a crazy man last night
he said we were all fingers of god
clothed in fragile, mortal flesh
our lives leaving traces

Between the darkness and the light
our journey stains us with the color
criss-crossing the face of this world
black-and-white finger-paints of god

I met a wild woman last night
she hurt me in places I didn't know I had
showed me how to do things I've never done before
how to help her calm herself

she told me there is no difference
between pleasure and pain
she said it's all a matter of perspective
It depends on where the rest of you resides

I'm not looking for a change
I'm not searching for a dream
Everyone thinks I'm strange
But I'm just scathed

I met a child last night
she asked me a million questions
I tried to explain what she didn't understand
I wished I could help her to see

One day, I told her, you'll be in that place
the mysteries unfurling in front of you
hope it's still a long time away
because you'll never be able to go home again . . .

I'm not looking for a change
I'm not searching for a dream
everyone thinks I'm strange
but I'm just scathed

I'm not looking for a change
and I am just what I seem
I'm not looking for a change
I'm just looking to be scathed.

words and music by J Franklin Evans

Here's some food for thought

What if most people didn't suffer a loss of mental acuity as they aged? Say, someone is 90 years old but has a very good memory and doesn't have any problems with mental fogginess or forgetfulness.

I know most of the effects of something like this would be beneficial, and positive. But what would the negative effects be? I've got some ideas, but think about it and let me know what yours are. It's for something I may do in the future . . . this is your chance to contribute! Heh.

Mythophobia

A fear of myths or stories or false statements, according to phobialist.com.

This is the title of my next collection of songs, as well as my next screenplay. Interesting idea, I think, being deathly afraid of something that doesn't exist.

My idea is about a group of people who basically imagine this creature and become terrified of it. This isn't an ogre or a troll or something else that is folkloric or mythical--it's something they made up themselves.

The truly weird thing is these people--there are around twenty of them--are from all over the world and they never had any contact with each other before they developed this condition.

It's an examination of fear, of how a community can form out of a group of strangers who all have one huge common trait.

It's also a slasher film--one of them is killing the others off. Or *is* it one of them? Maybe their imaginary creature *isn't* imaginary . . . maybe all of them concentrating their terror of this thing in one physical location somehow created this thing out of nothing, and now it's stalking them . . .

I won't provide the answer I came up with here--you'll have to watch the film if I can write this thing and get it made. But I can tell you it's not what you're thinking--hopefully this will be a true surprise ending and not one of those "Hollywood" surprise endings, which only seems to surprise people in the film industry but which anyone who has seen a movie in the last ten years can see coming from watching the trailers.

Anyways, what do you think? Potential for something? Or not?

For those you love . . .

I *know*--since you read my stuff--that you are the kind of person who says "I love you" all the time to those who are important to you.

Maybe you don't *say* it but you close your emails or letters to those who are truly important to you with those words--and it's good that you do.

But what about those *other* people who are important to you? By that I mean the writers, musicians, actors, artists of all kinds, who enrich your life with their music, their films, their words, their work . . . whatever it may be.

You may think that, say, Bruce Springsteen, is accustomed to getting appreciative emails, cards, and letters from his fans--and he probably is. He probably gets thousands every month. But it still means something to him--he is a human being and we all want people to love us. If you're a Springsteen fan (and I can personally take or leave him, really) you should let him know that his music is important to you--he may never actually read your letter, email, whatever, himself, and you may never get a response, but you can feel good about letting him know that he impacted your life in a positive way.

I've always done that. I read a book that blows me away I'm writing to the author about it. Sometimes I never hear anything. More often than not, though, I do--I have cards and letters from Asimov, Stephen King, Roger Zelazny, Phillip K. Dick . . . All of those guys except King are dead now, but they knew that I loved their work, that it made a difference in my life. It means something to me, that they knew, and they were one-and-all nice guys who appreciated the effort it took for me to write to them.

So, drop your favorite artists a line, let them know you dig their stuff. It doesn't have to be much. Just a reminder that their work is important to somebody out there, that they aren't wasting their time and effort slaving away at what they do. We all have our moments of self-doubt and appreciation and encouragement from those who enjoy our work goes a long way to fight that.

I'm just sayin'.

New chapter!

I usually post the new chapter to my novel on Wednesday mornings but I might be too busy tomorrow--so I went ahead and did it tonight. You can check it (and the other 12 chapters posted so far) in the blog here:

http://www.ilike.com/artist/J+Franklin+Evans

While you're there you can listen to my tunes, too--and download some of them for free. How can you pass that up?

Dat wunnerful wunnerful wiz . . .

I know a lot of folks who put The Wizard of Oz up around number one on their list of favorite films.

For this one I must be the dissenting view. Let me tell you why.

For some reason back then (and even now, to a certain extent), film-makers seemed to think that if they were making a children's flick they needed to burden it with production numbers. In reality this always was a problem, for me--just as soon as the action finally got started it would grind to a screeching halt for five or six hours while everyone sang and danced to some idiotic or boring song. Then, the plot would have to overcome that inertia to finally start moving again, only to screech to a halt yet again while we have *another* couple of hours of singing and dancing. Boys--at least boys *I* knew, back then--hate singing and dancing. It's not just something we say. We mean it. Because it's boring. We were much more interested in the flying monkeys (which were scary and kinda cool) than "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." Trust me.

Not to say I personally object to *all* musicals. I really dig Les Miserable and Rent. You'll notice, though, that those are *through-composed* musicals. In other words, they are musicals from beginning to end. Not ten or fifteen minutes of action, then four hours of singing and dancing, followed by a couple minutes of action, followed by sixteen hours of singing and dancing . . .

But the worst sin of all, and this is something that Hollywood still hasn't figured out because they keep doing it--it was all a dream! None of it really happened! Sheesh! Go back and read Aristotle, people--he'll tell you that this is dramatically unsatisfying. When I was six years old and saw this thing for the first time I wanted to throw something at the TV when I found that out. I felt like the last seventeen or eighteen hours of my life had just been wasted! If nothing that occured on the screen was real to the people in the film it *certainly* wasn't real to me!

If you dig it, good, I'm happy for you. But, man! There are many more films that are much more satisfying. Some of them even have songs . . .

Striking out

This is getting old.

I think this is the third song I've recorded and, when I listened to it, hated it.

I don't really know what's wrong with it. It just didn't come together like I wanted. It sounds about like I expected it to sound, but it's just . . . well, I guess 'disappointing' would be the closest word.

I don't know what's wrong with me, suddenly. I go back and listen to my older stuff--and by "older" I mean "from a few months ago" and it sounds fine to me. Hell, it sounds great. Even some stuff I was iffy about before sounds pretty good to me now. The new stuff . . . not so much.

This is probably an indication that I need to make some changes to my sound. As to *what* needs to be changed, I have no clue. I'll have to do some experimenting.

I just hope this fog I'm wondering in clears soon . . . I really want to get some new stuff out there. But *good* new stuff, not what I've been producing lately.

This is a test

It's a clear, cold night out in the middle of nowhere. Nearby is a hill. Atop that hill is a single dead tree. The full moon shines through the tree's branches and you can see a huge hoot owl sitting in it, apparently watching you.

Where do you go from here?

O, Muse, your timing sucks . . .

I posted earlier about finishing the first draft of my first ever screenplay.

This weekend I'm going to start working on the rewrite--it needs some major overhauling in a couple of places, the plot needs work, all the usual things.

In the mean time, I've had this other idea. It's been sitting there, in my head, for a while now. I'll think about it now and then but nothing significant developed. I think it's a *good* idea--there just wasn't enough there to warrant any serious development at this point.

This is a good thing. I can concentrate on what I'm working on now that has potential, I believe, if I can work out the kinks. I need to keep my head here, on this.

Except, now, an idea came to me about the other, sitting idea. Something that makes it *very* interesting. And also provides the missing piece--now there *is* enough there to make this puppy worth developing. I'm looking forward to working on it. I'm excited about it . . .

But I've got this other thing that I also dig that I've already completed a lot of work on and which will probably be pretty good, provided I can do what I need to do with it.

So, the plan is to stick with what I've been working on, for now--and I'll start plotting out the other thing and see where it goes. Who knows? I might decide after working on it that I was mistaken about it's potential. It could happen! In theory.

It would be really great if my Muse held this idea within her while I completed work on the first thing, letting it emerge when my plate was nearly empty and needed something else.

But, really, I'm just glad my poor, abused Muse still thinks of me, so I guess I shouldn't complain too much.

My novel

I've been serializing my novel, Roen: Pronounced Rowan. It's sort of a science fiction/detective thing. Anyway, I just posted Chapter 12 (in two parts) in my blog here, if you're interested:

http://www.ilike.com/artist/J+Franklin+Evans

You can also hear my music at the above link, too, if you are so inclined. Give it a read (and the tunes a listen) and let me know what you think!

Hobbies?

Right now I'm basking in the sense of accomplishment. I've finished the first draft of my first ever screenplay.

It's by no means producible. It needs a lot of work. Even then it may not be worth making. But I'm thinking it over constantly--there are a couple of scenes I need and right now I'm not sure how I'll do them, there is a character who proved to be pretty much unnecessary and I'm trying to figure out if I can get rid of him without causing major problems, and I'm not entirely happy with the ending. All of this is stuff I think about during my day, when I'm at work and can't do any writing on it. Not without getting into trouble, anyway.

I alternate thinking about the screenplay with thinking about whatever song I'm recording. I spent today considering the guitar solo, and just a few minutes ago laid down one that I like. I may change my mind about it later but, for now, it'll do.

All of this helps me to preserve what's left of my sanity. It's insulation from a world that sometimes becomes oppressive or just freaking miserable and stressful. If I didn't have these refuges I'd be either in a sanitarium or dead, I believe.

To me this is natural, restful, even sane. It makes perfect sense.

But to other people I seem to be eccentric. I'm not sure why. I think most people think of hobbies as coin collecting or making ships in a bottle. Not writing screenplays or recording music. To me it's just a matter of degrees and inclination--I have no urge to collect coins (though I'd love to collect cash) but I don't think the guy who does is crazy. I understand. The joy a coin collector feels when he finds that rare dime that's worth quite a bit of money is akin to what I feel when I play back a song I've recorded and hear the same thing I was hearing in my head.

It's something that can't be described. It's something that can't be matched. There are no drugs that could duplicate the sensation.

And it's something that lasts, too. I listen to some of my old tunes, reread some of my old stuff, and get that same feeling--maybe not a strong but it's enough. A maintenance dose, as it were. Until something new is finished and ready to be unleashed on the world--the big score, the high that makes it all worthwhile.

Well, it makes sense to me, anyway. How about you? Do you know what I'm talking about?

Who am I?

It's only fitting in this, my first blog here, that I tell you who I am, and my intent for this.

I'm a musician--I'll be announcing when I upload a new tune to my music websites here, in case you care about that. I'm trying to become a screenwriter--I'll be writing about that a lot, too. I'm quite frustrated with the publishing industry and have given up writing novels--I'll be complaining about that a lot, too.

I'll probably upload lyrics to some of my songs here, excerpts from stuff I'm working on, but mostly I think I'll be writing about things I'm working through. Character stuff, plot stuff, that sort of thing. Writing about people, observing people, always seems to unearth questions to me--why do people do what they do? Why did one person do something and another, in the same situation, do something else? How much do we have in common with each other? How are we different?

I'll ask for opinions on stuff and feel free to offer yours. I'm always grateful to anyone who takes the time to read something I've written and I value feedback. All I ask is, if you have a criticism, that it be a *constructive* criticism.

So, if you feel the need to holler at me go right ahead. In the mean-time I'll be here creating, thinking, trying to make sense of it all, offering my insights, such as they are, and bitching and moaning.

I'm looking forward to it!