Jared Axelrod

I spent it with my wife, Kyle Cassidy (who took these snazzy photos), Trilian Stars and a Shuggoth. And well spent it was, too. How about yourself?

What did you do today

his is how I live my life.

R and I have signed up for The 24 Hour Cram, a brilliant idea put on by Plays & Players–who I have done work with before, and indeed, hope to do work with again. Unsurprisingly, the mad minds who gave us “Superheroes Who Are Super” have yet another deliciously quick and dirty theater concept up their collective sleeves.  Here’s how they describe it:

We meet on January 29th at 8pm at Plays & Players 3rd Floor. Everyone is put into teams that each consist of one writer, one director and an equal number of actors.

We chat, we laugh and then we send the writers home to write a 10 minute play by 8am the next morning. Directors receive the hot off the printer plays at 8:01am and meet up with their actors to rehearse until house opens at 8pm on January 30th. For those of you still counting - that is 24 hours of pure cram!

Clearly, I am insane for wanting to try this. Luckily, my wife is too. We are enablers in our insanity.

JR and I have an edge on this, as we have seen the results of a previous 24 Hour Cram and have a pretty good idea of what works (outsized characters, mysteries) and what doesn’t (quiet character, slow builds). We did a practice run last night, to see how long it took us to write a ten-minute scene. Mine, a Mamet-ian exploration of the pros and cons of the iPad, took about an hour. JR’s, an examination of the pitfall of modern supernatural romance via speed dating, took about the same time, but was, as you might imagine, a little more deep.  After that rush job, 12 hours aught to be a luxury.

So, yes, it will be insane. But, the exact type of insanity that we excell at. Which means it will be awesome.

I expect to see you all there.

s part of some half-thought out response to JR’s latest work of astounding fiction, an internet person of dubious merit asked if “Sex In The City”-which JR compares this piece to-was, in fact, “the show about three whores and their mom.” This is apparently a joke from “Family Guy,” but I’m having trouble parsing the humor portion. I guess there’s a show about three prostitutes and their mother? And the title is similar, so it’s like a pun? Google says no…

In any case, this naturally led us to consider what a television show about three whores and their mom would be like. Depressing, obviously. Even if it achieved “The Wire”-like arias of connection and insight, it would still be about three sisters driven to sell the bodies, and a mother who stood idly by or who acts as some sort of hellish harridan of a madam. Not exactly something I would choose while channel-surfing.

But, what if we change the phrasing a bit? What if it was about three sex-workers and their mom? Now we’re cooking with steam!

What if a pioneering transgendered pornographer, (played by none other than pioneering transgendered pornographer Buck Angel, natch) took in his kid sister who just graduated from college and wanted to be a dominatrix. And then their other sister moves in, after a messy divorce, and decides to devote her life to her real passion, writing erotica. Add to this a cantankerous-yet-wise matriarch who needs a place to convalesce after recent surgery, and you’ve got sit-com gold! It practically writes itself.

Man, I would so watch that. And buy the DVD. And hold theme parties.

‘m pretty good. My broken ankle is healed and I can almost walk like a normal person. I’ve got a graphic novel with a great deal of promise, finally making headway on my novel WAY OF THE DODO, and am frustrated at my dayjob.

But those are outside things, aren’t they? Atmospheric disturbances.  How is Planet Jared doing, I believe the question was. Nevermind the asteroids.

Pretty good.

One thing the Ankle Incident drove home is how my tendency to rush to the end keeps me back. Dealing with the broken bones, and then the subsequent healing (still ongoing!) forced me to slow down and contemplate what I was doing. I tend to get very Zen in moments of crisis, judging what behavior is most effective from an almost detached perspective–you can ask the paramedics; I had ‘em laughing all the way to the hospital–and this injury kept me in that state for longer than usual. And what I’ve come away with, is it’s better to do things than to do plan what you’re going to do with them.

Don’t count your chickens, in other words.  But in a creative way. Don’t name you chickens, maybe? Don’t make your posters for your dancing chicken show, until they’ve hatched and it’s clear that dancing is their true calling? You get the idea.

This is been hard for me, because it’s my nature to skip to the end. But that’s alot of pressure to put on oneself, and it’s easy to put the work aside if it becomes clear that it’s not going to end up where you wanted it to in your head. I’ve done that too much. It’s hard to stop that, to scale back into the smaller frame. But it’s the right thing to do.  ‘Cuase if a project works, then I can build on it. And if it doesn’t, well, it was just a small idea to begin with.

That’s an email I sent in July, which means I learned the Lesson of 2009 early.  2009 has been my nonline year, full of projects and events that weren’t designed for virtual spaces. It was a year of food and sculpture, of theater and photography, and of secrets. Especially secrets. A great many things happened in 2009, but most of them never reached this space. Nonline year.

Just as 2008 will always be defined by my wedding, 2009 will always be the year I broke my ankle. It will be the year JR was able to sleep in the hospital bed with me because nurse saw her as my wife. It will be the year I re-learned how to walk, the year I struggled with what the truly handicapped go through every day, the year everything slowed down to crawl.  The year I learned what it takes to break bones and what it takes to rebuild muscles.

A year of learning, as the Lesson of 2009 above can attest.

y favorite expression concerning the New Year has always been “That much still a child, I still consider the start of the year to be at the fall.” Back to school, and all. If 2009 has any distinction, it’s that the end of summer didn’t feel like the end of the year at all. And that  this casual, academic shuffling from one winter day to another felt like the end of something old and the start of something new. We’re starting over, the lot of us. Setting it all back to zero for one more go.

Though the years barely more than a week old, there’s been more than enough sadness to go around. Two recent deaths have hit pretty hard, and that’s just the tip of the melancholy iceberg that extends far out into our friends and loved ones. It been hard to look at the new year with hopeful faces.

But.

On January 1st, I was told by a friend I had known for a handful of months that it was like we had known each other all out lives. Last night, I had a dinner of Iron Chef quality with a friend I had not seen in ages, and met a friend I hope to know for ages yet. This morning, I juggled snowballs, something that had never, strangely,  occurred to me before.

Let this be 2010, then. A year of the old ways made new, and the new ways made old.

Also, let it be full of Jessica Hische’s delightful letters from Daily Drop Cap.

They called her Resolve.  A woman of immense strength and power, she stood toe to toe with the Mega-Gorgon of the Lost Dimension, the Storm Kings of 67th Century, and the Xenophage Legion.  When the Galactivore came to lower its might teeth into our very planet, Resolve and Resolve alone stood fast in the face of such certain doom.  She was indomitable, indestructible, and possessed a bravery unlike any other the world had seen.

So it was that when the Cosmic Challenger came to Earth and bellowed for a champion, Resolve stood, and met his wager. With the fate of the world in the balance, Resolve met the Cosmic Challenger on equal footing. His muscular frame towered over her, despite her own impressive stature.

“Well, little one!” He said. “As the challenged, it is up to you choose the style of battle! Be wary! I am a master of over four thousand distinct martial arts, and over twenty nine thousand variations of them! Do not expect to catch me unawares!”

“You will not need any of them,” Resolve said. “All you must do is meet my eyes.”

Born Of An Atom Bomb is a daily warm-up piece, where I base a character around a random word or phrase. Today’s word: resolve

PhilCon ‘09 is this weekend. And you know I’m ready for it.

My schedule for the con is as follows:

Sat 12:00 PM in Plaza II (Two): STEAMPUNK FOR SIMPLETONS

[Panelists: Jared Axelrod (mod), Matt Black, Nikki Cohen, Christine Norris, Jeff Mach]

Ladies and Gentlemen of stern and noble character are invited to participate in a salon whereupon we shall discuss the genre and lifestyle known to the rabble as “steampunk”.  What is it, where did it come from, and what is with those brass goggles

Sat 4:00 PM in Plaza III (Three) PULPED!

[Panelists: Michael J. Walsh (mod), C.J. Henderson, Jared Axelrod, James Daniel Ross, Eric Avedissian]

What do we mean by pulp fiction? Is it a synonym for trash or does it represent a vigorous type of popular fiction that continues to appeal? If someone calls your book “”pulp”", is that an insult or a compliment

Sun 1:00 PM in Plaza V (Five) EAT RIGHT, EXERCISE, DIE ANYWAY… HEALTHY LIVING FOR FANS

[Panelists: James Prego (mod), Alyce Wilson, Jared Axelrod]

In general, fans tend to be a rather… sedentary… group.  What simple things can we do to improve our health and life a better life

Sun 2:00 PM in Executive Suite 823 MICROFICTION: THE NEXT BIG THING?

[Panelists: Nathan Lilly (mod), Michael Swanwick, Ef Deal, Dina Leacock, Jared Axelrod]

A number of magazines have opened dedicated to the art of the quick-fic. Pros and cons of flash fiction (under 1,000 words), nanofiction (under 40 words), and Twitter fiction (under 140 characters)

Hope to see you there.

Sometimes, mythical creatures burst into being. The borders between fiction and reality are thin, and sometimes—like, say 2am on Saturday—they appear to you. Just such a thing happened to JR and I tonight, on our way home from Shadowland (which, frankly, is a little too fitting). Standing by the side of the road, looking lost and forlorn, stood two creatures out of myth and legend.

I speak of course, of the Magical Pixie Dream Girl. One is rare indeed. But two? That, my friends, is nothing short of a miracle.

These two beautiful young ladies in their tiny black dresses and ballet flats flagged down our car, asking us if we could drive them to 3rd and Chesnut. One of them, the brunette, had left her credit card there. Seeing no harm in driving two tiny twenty-somethings a few blocks, JR and I agreed, and they climbed in.

“We’ll give you money,” the blonde said. I assured her that would not be necessary. Both of the girls were clearly smashed out of their skulls, though the blonde more so than the brunette. She was the louder of the two.

“What’s your favorite bands?” she asked. “Top three. C’mon!”

We admitted that we did not actually know our favorite bands—it’s one of those questions that really should have come up before but hadn’t, and we tried to steer the subject away. But neither girl was having it.

“How long have you been dating, if you don’t your favorite bands?” the burnette asked. We told them we were married, which was met with squeals and clapped hands. “Tell us your bands. We’re music snobs.”

It then came out that my current favorite bands are, in fact, The New Pornographers, The Veils, and P.O.S.—the last two the brunette had not heard of, and it blew her mind—and JR’s were Ani DiFranco, Regina Spector, and she was cut off before she could get out a third.

“Those are so awesome,” the brunette said. “Are you a feminist?” JR said that yes, she was. This brought more squeals of joy from the two girls.

“VAGINAS!!!” yelled the blonde, her head out the window. “VVVVVVAAAAAAAGGGINAS!!!!”

The conversation then turned to how awesome I am—“So awesome”—and how hot JR is—“So hot”—which then led to the inevitable question. Would it be okay if they made out JR?

“You’re so hot,” said the blonde to JR, to which the brunette agreed. “Let’s make out. Would that be cool?”

“Lay off,” said the brunette. “They said they were married.”

“She can do it if she wants to. Look at her. She’s so hot. She’s got his balls in her hand.” JR protested that she does not like to make out with people she doesn’t know. “It’s because you think I’m ugly, isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” JR said. “You could be a model. If you told me you used to be a model, but you quit to go to school, I would have believed you.” I agreed with this.

“So I not pretty enough for you,” the blonde said, pouting and following her own train of logic. “I just want to make out with someone,”

“I’ll make out with you,” said the brunette.

“Shut up, Allie.” This was the first mention of either of their names. Katelyn and Allie. We pressed for more information. Allie liked Led Zepplin, but recently was turned on to folk music (“My friends from college would kill me if they knew I was into folk music”). Katelyn was a die-hard follower of Bob Dylan.

“My mom toured with Bob Dylan,” Katelyn said. “And my father toured with Eric Clapton. That’s how they met. And then, they fucked,” this was punctuated with a clap, and then a collapse back into the seat. “And that’s how I got here. I am so smashed. I just want to get something to eat, make out, and get fucked. Can we go back to the hotel?”

Making out and getting fucked was floated up several times—with the suggestion all four of us would be involved—and it was the combination of that and the notion of a hotel that became clear that these were no ordinary girls. These were Magical Pixie Dream Girls, the mythical creatures bi-curious couples seek out, hoping to add a third sexual partner for a night of debauchery, only to disappear back where they came from (in Katelyn and Allie’s case, that would be the Bronx), never to be seen from again.

These unicorns, these centaurs, these nymphs of legend were in the back seat of our car, pleading with us to talk about bands and make out with them and take them back to their hotel.

Naturally, we dropped them off at their originally specified destination (though not without circling it three times), and sent them on their way.

“My vagina’s hanging out,” Katelyn said as she got out of the car, adjusting her skirt. “Do you guys want money?”

No, Magical Pixie Dream Girls. The story is payment enough.

Local theater group Plays & Players have started a series called Super Heroes Who Are Super, staged readings of comics with costumes, props, and the appropriate combination of respect and silliness. Their first performance was the infamous “Boner Crimes” Batman story, which gives you an idea of the kind of comics they seek out for this series. I’ve seen two–they also did the first appearance of the Punisher, which proved that played straight, Frank Castle is far more funny than Spider-Man, quips and all–and loved them both. After talking with the organizer, I agreed to help out with the superhero suits for the rest of the series.

This month is the comic of choice is GREEN LANTERN #13 (June 1962): “The Duel of the Super Heroes!” the first meeting of Flash and Green Lantern, and after seeing my GL jacket, they asked if I could make a Flash one to match. So, I did.

There’s lots of charges from secret identity to superhero for both characters, so the director wanted something easily removable. I also made a Flash cowl and giant head extension (to mimic the cover). Dress rehearsal was Tuesday, so JR got some fabulous pics of the actors in costume.

Feel the power of the head extension:

I feel I should point out that is not the set they are going to use, but it makes a wonderfully surreal backdrop. More pics here.

It was so great to see the actors in the costumes. Doug Thomas, the actor playing Green Lantern, guy put his on an immediately struck a hero pose The director asked him how he felt in the costume. He said “I feel awesome!” He’s apparently been a Green Lantern fan since childhood. And Brian R. Caine, the actor playing Flash, was running all around the stage. The costumes really brought a physicality to their performance that they apparently didn’t have in the other rehearsals. Oh, the power of costuming.

Performance is this Saturday, the 14th at 10:30 on the 3rd Floor of Plays & Players Theater. Hope to see you there!