Okay

I know one day I'm gonna burn

but not today. Not today

I know one day I'm gonna learn

but not today. No, not today.

I know one day it'll all end

until then I'll stay your friend

I know I'm gonna burn, but not today

I know one day I'm gonna forget

but not today. Not today.

I know one day but no, not yet.

Not today. Yes, not today.

I heard you call my name

I abandoned you just the same

I know I'll forget, but not today.

You think I'd know for sure by now

not matter what I say, or how I disavow

I do the same thing I get the same story

You think I'd know for sure by now

I know it's gonna get better than this

but not today. No not today.

There's a you and me but no us.

Not today. No, not today.

I don't regret what I have done

It ended badly but I had fun

It's gonna get better but not today.

words and music by J Franklin Evans

Sunday morning fashionable randomocity

I've been thinking a lot about fashion lately.

For those who know me, this will trigger gales of laughter. I'm not a fashionable guy. But it is interesting to me, so I've been trying to learn a bit more about it. Gradually, ever-so-gradually, I think I'm learning a bit about what is and isn't chic. In about ten years I may have a clue.

On that subject, one way I've discovered to figure out that a TV show isn't worth watching is looking for the word fashion in reviews. Trust me. Unless the show is about fashion, people shouldn't focus in on what the characters are wearing. If they are, then they aren't paying any attention to the story. Which means the story isn't very interesting. Even good reviews, even raves--if all the reviewer wants  to talk about is what everyone was wearing, the show sucks.

Same thing applies to music. I've seen documentaries about bands where the entire thing was about the band's fashion sense. Not word one about the music. And none of those bands had produced anything worthy listening to. They were so focused on their look they neglected their sound.

Oh, well. I don't really have a point to wrap up with. I guess that's why it's randomocity.

An open letter to President Obama

Dear Mr. President--

During the current economic crisis I'm sure you're hearing the words "stimulus package" yet again, and I'm sure over the coming months you will be hearing these words more and more often from your advisors, the news media, and various pundits and experts.

I am no expert. I'm just a middle-class guy trying to make ends meet in these really trying times. But, while I'm no genius, I do have an idea and some advice regarding any future stimulus packages.

While previous packages have worked somewhat, they have fallen short of expectations. Here's why: the stimulus money went to the wrong people. Big corporations--banks, mostly--took the money and sat on it. In the mean time they jack up their fees on their customers and refuse to issue loans to small businesses and individuals. The "toxic" assets they have cluttering up their books are still on their books, so they still have a large accounts receivable. Plus they have the money they were given during the stimulus. In short, this doesn't help anyone but the banks.

My proposal--and I admit this is not original with me, and also that there are certainly problems with it that I'm not aware of--is that you urge Congress to approve another stimulus package, as large as the previous ones, and instead of sending that money to sit in the acccounts of another huge corporation, that it be paid to the citizens directly.

What I suggest is something similar to what the previous administration did, except they didn't go far enough. I propose that this time a payment be made to as many middle-class tax-payers as possible of $100,000 each.

I know this sounds crazy, but think about it. For example, what I would do with mine: I'd pay off my debts. Meaning the banks would get the money anyway, but they would have to credit my account, eliminating a portion of their accounts receivable. I'd use the remainder to pay for a new vehicle, since my truck is getting old and starting to fall apart. Since my monthly debt burden will be reduced to nothing I'd be able to increase my investment into my 401K for my retirement.

Multiply this by several million taxpayers doing the same thing, and what do you have? Banks who are flush with cash but with a diminished accounts receiveable. What would they do with that money? Make it available to individuals and small businesses as loans. They would have no choice.

It would, in effect, trigger an economic reboot, which is what we need. It would put the power of our economy back into our hands, instead of in  the hands of the huge corporations who will basically take any money paid to them directly and sit on it, just like they did before.

There will be those who will say this would lead to a catastrophe. As I've stated, I'm not an expert. I'm sure there are consequences to this that I haven't considered. But I would also urge you to look at the nay-sayers and think about who they truly speak for.

This is just a modest proposal, and I'm sure it's totally impractical, but I do think it's worth considering. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely

J Franklin Evans

Your mission for today . . .

I'll tell you up front that I'm whoring for my music right now. I thought I'd post links to some specific tunes that I'm particularly proud of, for your listening pleasure.

Seer is an instrumental piece, inspired by a screeplay I'm hoping may one day actually get produced. I was trying for bittersweet. Tell me if I made it.

Far From The Sun is another instrumental, inspired by a short short story I wrote (and posted here, actually) about a giant space flower.

Walks Like A Man is the sound I strive for. Driving, aggressive guitars, and an interesting story. A horror story. Maybe. Or maybe not . . .

Inside is another good example of what I'm usually trying for. One day I'm writing a screenplay for a short film based on this one.

West of the Moon is an instrumental inspired by my amazing goddaughter.

Beast of Love is a fun little tune. It'd make a really cool video, too. The whole point is to provoke a chuckle or two.

Necrotopia is a story set in the city of the alive and dead and alive again . . . I was going to base a series of stories here. I may go back to it. I stil like the idea.

After The Blood is an older tune--a vampire celebrating a kill. I tried to sound a little stoned on the vocal.

Wraith Tech was inspired by Stargate Atlantis. Imagine hiding aboard a Wraight hive ship as it travels between the stars with the wraith's relatively primitive hyper-space drives, having to drop out to let the engines rest, and for the crew to feed . . .

Click the links, listen to the tunes--some of them you can download, too. Let me know what you think. Get busy!

The line

Part of the art--probably the most important part, actually--is deciding how much information to give the reader/viewer/listerner/all of the above.

What I mean is, how much do you explain? How much do you let the reader/etc decide for him/herself?

Many if not most of the most popular novels and films draw that line near one end of the spectrum--they explain almost everything, assuming that readers can't figure anything out for themselves. For example, if there is a character who is gay, someone is going to explain in the narrative that the character is gay, even though he is shown making out with or even having sex with other men. Because, until somebody (either another character or in the narrative) says it, then we wouldn't know it.

Others--less successful, financially--go to the other extreme, and don't explain anything at all. You have to figure out everything. Like James Joyce. I read his story "Araby" for a class once, and totally didn't get it--I mean, the story made sense, but I couldn't figure out why somebody would write it. The teacher had to explain it all. I still hate the story and can't bring myself to read Joyce, because I don't like reading stuff where I need a translator. That's the author's job.

So, my own tastes range somewhere in the middle. I'd figure out for myself that a character is gay--and won't really care unless it's somehow germane to the story. But when something is a metaphor for something else, and if I don't know that I won't get it, I get pissed. I don't mind working a little bit myself (films like Alien, and The Godfather, in my opinion, find that line perfectly)--there's nothing like unravelling a little something the writer concealed in the story that sort of adds context or texture. But if you have to pause after every sentence, parsing it out, consulting your handbook that lists what colors, tenses, letters, etc., represent, I'm exhausted after a page or so and toss it. Explaining every tiny little thing (Spielburg) makes me feel insulted, like you think I'm an idiot. Not explaining anything (Kubrick) makes me think you are one of those arrogent pricks who has created his own world and just expects everyone else to figure it all out.

Anyways, I promise not to condescend to any readers/listeners/viewers of my own stuff, though I will try to leave little easter eggs here and there for you to find for yourself that won't detract from your enjoyment of whatever it is of mine you are consuming. That's my goal.

It's the least I can do for someone who has the exquisite taste and unquestioned intelligence required to tackle my stuff.

Sunday morning drowsy randomocity

As I promised myself, I watched Alien again last night.

It was the director's cut, and I downloaded it from ITunes. I already have it on DVD but I wanted it on my IPod--the picture on that tiny screen is incredible, and listening to it with headphones helps me to hear and appreciate the sound mix better. It was an awesome and terrifying experience.

Of course, the whole point in this little exercise was to remind myself of why that film is so special, as it embodies the qualities I want to capture for my newest project, which I have decided will be a novel. Yes, it was helpful, and I came up with a couple of practical ideas, too, as to the creature that will be at the heart of the story. With any luck it'll scare the everlovin' piss out of whoever reads it.

Horror lately has been so disappointing to me. Nobody seems to be interested in being scared anymore. It's all gore--make as grisly a death as possible. It's really uninteresting, not worth watching. Plus, nobody seems to understand how to do monsters. From what I understand--I haven't seen it--J. J. Abrams understood in Cloverfield. In that one the monster is kept mysterious as long as possible--you can see what the creature does, which is create an incredible amount of death and destruction, but you don't see it. The thing remains shrouded in mystery. Which is how it's supposed to be done.

Lovecraft is a master at that sort of thing, too, and since I see Alien as sort of the progeny of Lovecraft's work, he's the basis for what I think of when I think about truly effective horror. Lovecraft at his best captured the awe-inspiring, terrifying vastness of the cosmos. Granted his prose tended towards the purple, and most of his stuff is way too wordy, but read "The Dunwich Horror" or "The Shadow Out of Time" to see what I'm talking about. The latter story is a perfect example of the last sentence in the work giving rise to a massive episode of horripilation, as H. P. himself would say. (You're on the Internet right now--look it up!)

Anyways, the very beginnings of the plot are now starting to come together. I'm going to relax a while, then have lunch, and by then hopefully I'll have enough to be able to go into my little home office and start on a basic outline.

Lunch, btw, is gonna be a nice New York strip steak, some fried popcorn shrimp, and some fries--good old surf 'n' turf.
So, stay cool! Stay out of trouble--or, if you can't, at least come over here and tell me all about it!

Watching TV on a Friday Night randomocity

So, here I am, doing what I'm usally doing at this time on a Friday night--watching TV.

It's Haven on Syfy tonight. Check it out, if you haven't already. It's a show with a ton of heart.

I'm off this Monday and Tuesday. Plan is, Monday, to take Atari to get his yearly shots and have some bloodwork done--the vet has to see if the meds he's on for his arthritis are damaging his liver. Tuesday I need to get some preventive maintenance done on my truck. Whether I actually do that or not depends on how much money I wind up dropping at the vet's.

Other than that I'm planning on plotting out this novel I've been mulling over for over a week now.

Still got a ways to go on it, really. I need a monster. Something terrible, that'll cause someone's hackles to rise, something that'll just bypass the reasonable parts of a person's brain and go straight to the reptilian places where deep-seated fears live. Yes, like Alien. In fact, part of the plan is to watch that film--the director's cut--sometime this weekend. Go back to the source material for my nightmares.

I also intend to create a sort of oppressive, claustophobic world for my characters to live in. That' still something I'm thinking about. I think the contrast between the stifling confines of the world and the characters--who are jsut trying to live their lives as best they can--will addd some texture to the whole thing, make it more effective by making you care about the characters. Because, if you don't care then you may as well be reading a newspaper.

Another storm is rolling in, and Atari's feeling antsy again. Thunder scares him and lately with had some storms that were real humdingers. I'm just hoping we get some rain to cool things off. It's a bit ridiculously hot here.

So, that's my weekend. What about you? Got any plans?

My right ankle - a tale of horror

Since I was a kid I had this problem with my right ankle.

I would run a few steps and it would get sprained. Every. Time.

PE teachers, of course, didn't believe me, and would force me to run anyway. Until I just refused and would not change my mind. Doctors thought I was just trying to get out of PE and wouldn't even look at it. I had one who wanted me to hop on this board he had sitting atop of dowel rod--he wanted me to roll the rod back and forth by shifting my weight on the board. I couldn't. Doc said I was lazy. (For the record, there are professional athletes who couldn't do that. Doc was just an asshole.)

I finally got to the point where I didn't have to worry about it any more--I have no need to run, so except for the occassion misstep it didn't happen.

I took up bodybuilding for a while and also running--I was running--running, not jogging--three miles at a clip. No problems. My legs became enormously powerful, I have to say--I was squatting with an awful lot of weight. I actually enjoyed working legs at the gym.

It wasn't my ankle that eventually gave way and make me stop with the weightlifting. It was my left wrist. And that is a whole 'nother story, though I had a similar issue--convincing a damned doctor that I was indeed experiencing the searing agony in my hand that I claimed and wasn't just fishing around to get on worker's comp Anyways, after surgery on the wrist, and having the arm in a cast for a couple months, my interest in weight lifting diminished.

So, a little while after that I was playing tennis with a friend and moved to cut to my left and I felt something in my right ankle give way. The pain was illuminating, defining. That was over ten years ago and I can still feel something there, where it tore--I'm guessing a ligament that had always been weak finally gave way. But after a day or so the pain diminished and I could walk with only a barely noticeable limp.

Fast forward to today, when I'm going down the stairs here and feel a sudden tear, this time in the calf area, on my right leg. Sheesh. What now?

Anyways, I'll mention it to my doc when I go back to him--got an appointment coming up--but I strongly suspect I'll get the same reaction from him I've always gotten--he won't believe me.

Days like this make me wish I'd stuck with my childhood dream of becoming a rock star. I'd either be dead or have my own reality show by now.