The Stage or the Curtain

2 years ago, I lost my oldest friend. I had gone back to my hometown to attend our Boy Scout troop’s 50th Anniversary Celebration. I was a pretty terrible Boy Scout (I collected all of the arts merit badges — and plumbing, ’cause it was funny), but Mike was one of the people that I was most looking forward to seeing. Sure, we both had our own separate lives now, but he was always like family to me. Plus, I was really looking forward to teasing him for getting poison ivy on his balls at Camp Sequassen, because let’s face it, that was pretty hilarious.

Mike never made it to the party. Only a few of us knew why.

His wake saw over 500 people descend upon our suburban Connecticut town. It was an incredible outpouring of love and support; in a way, that made it worse. Maybe if Mike had seen the amount of people who turned, the number of lives he’d touched — maybe he wouldn’t have thought of his own life as being so expendable.

Maybe. Maybe not.

At the reception following his funeral, a few of Mike’s friends put together a slideshow with memories of him. These were friends that Mike had made in more recent years, especially at college, and most of them had never met his family until that week. The slideshow concluded with a video of Mike performing The Decemberists’ “I Was Meant For the Stage” at an Open Mic night. I had forgotten that he had finally stepped out from the backstage of the theatre and began performing (I think we scarred him in 7th grade during the filming of our home movie sequel to The Story of Rikki-Oh).

If I have ever seen a ghost, it was in that video. I still remember the exact moment during the song that Mike’s mother lost it, when he sang “Mother, please be proud / Father, be forgiving / even though you told me / ‘Son, you’ll never make a living.” I don’t know how much Mike’s college friends knew about his life in high school, but the song choice was frighteningly poetic; my mother even thought it was an original, autobiographical song that Mike had written himself.

That night, I followed the funeral crowd to Mike’s favorite Thursday Karaoke bar, and sang in his memory. It was strange, seeing all of these people with so much love for my friend — and not knowing who any of them were. That’s just the nature of things, I suppose, as we can go on to new places and start different lives. I listen to his friends share memories and stories, and I wish I could chime in or relate, but again, it was a different life for me. Still, it always comforted to know that he had continued to grow as a person, but never really changed at the heart of himself.

Each year, around this time, I try to make my way back to Hamden; there’s always a walk, or a fundraiser, some event in his memory. Everyone else — the friends I met at the services, extended family — they sit together, laughing and chatting and sharing stories. I feel bad inserting myself into their world — I don’t mean to rob their grief for myself, nor do I mean to intrude on their celebration. I know sometimes they wonder who I am, what my connection to their cause is. If they’d ever ask, I’d tell them, don’t mind me; I’m just here for Mike.

In Memory

2 years ago today, I lost my oldest friend in life to suicide. For my post on FiveByFiveHundred.com, I decided to look at these two years and how it's affected me. There's not much else to write about that isn't covered elsewhere, but it just serves to remind us that is life is precious, and no one's life "isn't worth it." Even two years later, Mike's death has a profound affect on me every day. Sure, I handle it better now — but suicide never goes away. It never gets better. So think before you act, whether you're experiencing your own feelings of self-harm, or whether your actions might have that affect on someone else. I miss you, Mike.

"The Stage or the Curtain" at FiveByFiveHundred.com

(If you're looking for some more not-so-light reading, I wrote a [fairly abstract and Beckett-esque] play about this as well. It premiered in Hollywood in April of 2010 — too late, of course, for Mike to have ever seen it. But theatre was his only real salvation in life, so maybe somehow, I can keep him alive on the stage, because I think that's how he would have liked it.)

[soundcloud url="http://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/9404866"]

Peter DuBois on Before I Leave You

Here's a brief video that I filmed back in May, as part of an interview between Huntington Artistic Director Peter DuBois and Charles Haugland, Artistic Programs and Dramaturgy, about our upcoming world premiere of Before I Leave You by Huntington Playwriting Fellow (and 40-year Cambridge resident!) Rosanna Yamagiwa Alfaro. The play tells the story of a group of academic friends living in Harvard Square as they approach the dreaded "old age." I could tell you more but, well, that's what I made the video for! [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DcK1Zvq3W_c&w=500&h=284]

Guest Blog: Chess Motifs

I've been doing some guestblogging for Quirk Books, publishers of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and that soon-to-be hit Broetry (what you mean, you haven't bought a copy yet?!), and my first post is up today. It's a countdown of one of my favorite character types in pop culture/literature: the Chessmaster, that brilliant strategist who plays 50 moves ahead of the rest of the cast in the story, and always seems to have some grander scheme in mind that we as readers/viewers/audience can hardly even begin to comprehend. And they always know how to manipulate and play the other characters into going along with their plans, whether they realize it or not. We're talking Nick Fury, Ben Linus, Dumbledore, the Cigarette Smoking Man — you know the type. Check out the full list at the link below. Agree? Disagree? Let me know on the Quirk comments!

"Life Is A Game Of Chess: Top Ten Chessmasters in Pop Culture & Literature" at Quirk Books

@Horse_Ebooks: The Poem

@Horse_Ebooks is my latest obsession — a spam twitter account intended to sell, well, eBooks about horses. In order to avoid being deleted as a spambot (which it is), @Horse_Books tweets random phrases from...well, no one's really sure. Sometimes, they're obviously sample lines from various eBooks about horses. Other times, they're just little two-word bursts, like "Boating Needs." If you're really lucky, you'll get some brilliant non sequitur gem like "I wanted to make love to her like a crazed weasel. I wanted to make love to her like I was an aroused teenage boy at a drive" (Yes, that was not a complete sentence, which makes the whole thing that much more ridiculous and hilarious) I decided to scroll through the @Horse_Ebooks twitter account and compile a list of some of my favorite 2-7 word incomplete sentence tweets, and turn them into a Found Poem. It was a lot harder than I expected it to be — some of those tweets make no sense whatsoever, and are even hard to string into some kind of narrative logic — but I'm pretty entertained by the results, and I hope that you are too!

"The Collapse of the Theory of Evolution in 50 Themes" (yes, that title is a complete tweet in and of itself) at FiveByFiveHundred.com

(also — follow @Horse_Ebooks, because it's hilarious, and I guarantee it will brighten up your day)

The Best of All Possible CANDIDEs!

Leonard Bernstein's beautiful score for the Broadway musical Candide was an instant classic — the show itself, based on the novella by Voltaire, was not. Tony Award and MacArthur Genius Grant winner Mary Zimmerman took it upon herself to recreate this musical masterpiece/disasterpiece with a brand new book and a new take on its wonderful music. Following sold out runs at Chicago's Goodman Theatre and Washington, DC's Shakespeare Theatre, Mary Zimmerman's incredible production of Candide officially opens tonight at the Huntington in Boston, and believe me when I say, it is absolutely worth seeing. It's a long show, but it's also one that you'll remember — this is one of those shows that people will be talking about for years to come. Don't believe me? Check this out. [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGgq_HZYAs0&w=420&h=315]

CANDIDE runs through October 16 at the BU Theatre on the Avenue of the Arts. Don't miss it!

Let's Kill Hitler M. Night Shyamalan!

It's a classic time travel question: if you had the ability to change history and travel through time, would you go back and kill Baby Hitler to prevent the Holocaust from ever happening? But then, what has innocent little baby Hitler ever done — could you possibly raise him in a way to stop him from ever becoming the monster that he does, without killing him? It's a great thought problem, but I propose a better idea: Going back in time to kill M. Night Shyamalan, around the time that Signs was released. Because if you think about it, you'd actually be doing everyone a favor — including M. Night himself. He would be the victim of a mysterious murder, and remembered as a young auteur filmmaker who died before his time. He'd be remembered for such greats as Signs and Unbreakable, and the rest of us would never have to suffer through such insipid crap as Lady in the Water or The Happening.

This week on Five By Five Hundred, I explore this exact scenario.

"I Kill Dead People" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

Just Another Day at Fenway Park

This past Wednesday, the cast of CANDIDE at the Huntington had the privilege of performing the National Anthem before the 1:35pm Red Sox game against the Toronto Blue Jays. So basically I got paid to hang out behind the scenes at Fenway Park and STAND RIGHT ON THE FIELD DURING THE CEREMONY HONORING TIM WAKEFIELD'S 200^th WIN. Just sayin'.

And here's a little video I cut together of the experience. Did I mention I get to ride in a Duck Boat (after only 7 years of living here...):

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZyhFBvK594&w=560&h=315]

T-Shirt of the Dead: In Shocking 3D!

Apologies for missing last week's post on Five By Five Hundred — my good friend Moose got married over the weekend (congrats, buddy!) and between the bachelor party, the wedding itself, and the various in town for the same festivities, I kind of forgot that Monday was a holiday, and that I had a piece due. Whoops! Better late than never right?

My new entry for last week ('cause, ya know, I'm a time traveller n' shiz) was inspired by Fashion Week — and, more specifically, the fact that t-shirts and Facebook pages have all but replaced gravestones as the default memorials of our deceased friends. So it's a slightly surreal prose/poetry meditation on the fact that dead friends are now fashionable. But not like, wearing the skin of dead people — that's just weird, man.*

"We Will Become T-Shirts" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

*Unless you're some kind of Nordic Barbarian or something, in which case, well, to each his own, I guess. Who am I to judge?

Freshman Weekend; or, Beer Beer Sex Shots Shots Shots Shot Puke WHOOPS

Here's the thing: I'm 25 years old, just over 3 years out of college. I stay out late, I drink (and make) lots of beer, I work in the arts, and show up at my job most days in cut-off jean shorts (or "jorts," if you will) and a t-shirt. I don't feel that old — I'm not that old — and the idea of college doesn't seem like it's so far away. But biking from Harvard Square on Friday night, I discovered that college was indeed back in session, and that I have apparently become a jaded old man. It was the first weekend of college for many freshmen at Boston's countless universities. It was a beautiful night as well, so the frosh were out in droves, playing at adulthood by making lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of obnoxious (but incredibly fun) mistakes from which they will (one day) hopefully learn. "Freshmen Weekend," as I like to call it, is not that day. My bike route brought me past Harvard, MIT, Boston University, Northeastern, and Wentworth University, as well as plenty of off-campus student abodes. You know those 13-year cicadas? It was kind of like that.

So mid-bike ride (I swear, it was totally safe), I recorded this poem, which I then fixed up when I got home. Enjoy!

"Freshmen Weekend" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

Review: The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Heralded as "the next Twilight" (take that as you will), The Night Circus tells the story of a supernatural traveling circus at the turn of the 20^th century, and the many bizarre performers that inhabit this magical world — specifically, two young magician apprentices, bound from a young age to compete in a vaguely-defined duel to the death but who inevitably fall in love instead. Basically it's like LOST, but with a circus tent instead of an island — with pretty much all of its strengths as well as its shortcomings. I had the pleasure of meeting the author, Erin Morgenstern, at a lovely book launch party in Concord, Massachusetts (where much of the book is set — they had magicians and fortune tellers and everything! Also sesame chicken NOM NOM NOM). This is her first novel, and there's already a film adaptation in production (from the producers of Twilight, no less!). I'm sure the book, with its fantastical imagery, will actually do quite well, and I wish her the best of luck with it. For now, however, you can read my full review over at DailyGenoshan.com.

Review: "The Night Circus" by Erin Morgenstern on DailyGenoshan.com

The Night Circus is available Tuesday, September 13, wherever books are sold.

Thom Dunn the Buffy Slayer

I recently did some blogging for Dark Horse Comics in anticipation of the upcoming Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 9 comic book / Angel & Faith comic book, both continuing off of the original Buffy TV universe (because as anyone who knows me knows, I am fairly-to-extremely obsessed with the entirety of Joss Whedon's creative output. Man is the most brilliant dramatist of our time, no exaggeration). Check out the link for more of my thoughts on the Buffyverse as a whole — and, oh yeah, a brief anecdote about that time I armwrestled Joss Whedon (and won!).

#MyBuffyLife Guest Blog at DarkHorseComics.com

Me, totally armwrestling Joss Whedon. THAT'S WHAT
YOU GET FOR KILLING WASH, YOU BIG STUPID JERK!

My (Fictional) OKCupid Affair with Lady Gaga

Earlier today, consumer technology weblog Gizmodo.com made a post about accidentally ending up on an OKCupid date with the world champion of Magic: The Gathering.Under normal circumstances, this could be a fairly entertaining anecdote. Instead, Gizmodo.com intern Alyssa Bereznak uses the opportunity to show how much of a terrible, judgmental human being she is, and little more. The first and most obvious problem with this article: how is it newsworthy? The "point" of the story is to illustrate that people often exclude important and possibly dealbreaking details in their online dating profiles, and that we should all be more careful and "Google the shit out of your next online date."

Really, Alyssa? As your article indicates, Jon Finkel was about the only eligible bachelor that contacted on you on OKCupid. Despite his other redeeming qualities — Magic: The Gathering was the ultimate dealbreaker? While I've never been a Magic player myself (as in, regular/collecting player; yes, I've played the game, usually when Brian McGackin talks me into it), I struggle to see how this could be the ultimate, most disgusting and irredeemable sin that an online date could make. Maybe the author wasn't aware that Magic world champions can make upwards of $230,000 per tournament. Sorry, Alyssa — you just lost your Sugardaddy!

The most insulting part of the article is the way she compares Magic: The Gathering champion status to divorce and single parenthood as crucial details that one should be expected in his/her online dating profile. Did you ever stop to think, Melissa, that Jon does not want his championship status to be such an important factor in his relationships? To some people, he's a celebrity (he does have his own playing card, after all) — might that status skew his relationship prospects at all? He's a Magic: The Gathering rock star, and I'm sure there are plenty of geeky groupies out there looking for a piece of his mana. What if Chris Evans was looking for dates online, and decide not to include the fact that he's, you know, Captain America, for fear of meeting online desperate starfuckers and scaring off all of the ladies he'd actually want to date? To prove my point, here's a the exact same story, with a few minor details changed. This time, instead of a Magic: The Gathering world champion, my online date is secretly — well, you'll see.

---

Earlier this month, I came home drunk and made an OKCupid profile. What the hell, I thought. I'm busy, I'm single, and everybody's doing it. Sure, I'd heard some stories, but what was the worst that could happen?

Two weeks into my online dating experiment, OKCupid had broken me down. It was like the online equivalent to hanging out alone in a dark, date-rapey, drum-n-bass club. Every time I signed on, I was hit by a barrage of creepy messages. "hey qt, iwud lik veru much for me nd u to be marry n procreate." Or "you look strong hehe." So when I saw an IM from a girl named Stefanie that said, "You should go out with me :)" I was relieved. She seemed normal. I gave her my name. "Google away," I said. Then dinner was ready, and I signed off without remembering to do the same.

We met for a drink later that week. Stefanie was short and thin, dressed in garish glam-punk outfit that either looked like it was way too coordinated or scrapped together at the last minute from Goodwill. We started talking about normal stuff—family, work, college. I told her that I was a musician. And then she casually mentioned that she was as well.

"Actually," she paused. "I'm fucking Lady Gaga"

I laughed. Oh that's a funny joke! I thought. This girl is funny! But the earnest look on her face told me she wasn't kidding.

I gulped my beer and thought about the life of a pop star, and the fashion celebrity. After all, I'd taken an Andy Warhol class, too, and as much I was never really into what Gaga was doing, I certainly understood it (or at least, I thought I did). But before I could dig deeper, we had to go. Stefanie had bought us tickets for a drag show in the basement of a seedy leather bar. It was not a particularly romantic evening.

The next day I Googled my date and a wealth of information flowed into my browser. A Wikipedia page! Competition videos! Fanboy forums comparing him to Chuck Norris! This chick wasn't just some professional who dabbled in music at a tender age. She's Lady motherfucking Gaga!

Just like you're obligated to mention you're divorced or have a kid in your online profile, shouldn't someone also be required to disclose any indisputable international popstar status? But maybe to her it was a long time ago? We met for round two later that week.

At dinner I got straight down to it. Did she still perform? "Yes." Strike one. How often? "I'm preparing for a tour next month." Strike two. Who did she hang out with? "I've met all my best friends through the music industry and drag shows." Strike three. I smiled and nodded and listened. Eventually I even felt a little bit bad that I care at all about her career. Here was a gal who had dedicated a good chunk of her life to becoming a prototypical celebrity/popstar, on a date with a guy who fancies dreams of singer-songwriter brilliance. This is what happens, I thought, when you leave things out of your online profile.

I later found out that Stefanie infiltrated her way into OKCupid dates with at least two other people I sort of know, including one of my co-workers. Fathers, warn your sons! This could happen to you. You'll think you've found a normal, edgy indie girl with a job, only to end up sharing goat cheese with genderqueer popstar far too obsessed with deconstructing the popular notions of "celebrity" based on what she once heard in an Andy Warhol class she took at NYU.

Maybe I'm an OKCupid asshole for calling it that way. Maybe I'm shallow for not being able to see past Stefanie's international superstardom. I'll own that. But there's a larger point here: that judging people on shallow stuff is human nature; one person's pop stardom is another person's fingernail biting, or sports obsession, or verbal tic. No online dating profile in the world is comprehensive enough to highlight every person's peccadillo, or anticipate the inane biases that each of us lugs around. There's no snapshot in the world that can account for our snap judgments.

So what did I learn? Google the shit out of your next online date. Like, hardcore.

Purple and Green is the new Black and Blue

How come so many supervillains wear purple and green as their primary colors? I ask this both from a story standpoint (those are probably the two colors I wear the most, but I try not to wear them both at the same time in such excess), and also from a cultural standpoint. What was it that caused so many comic creators in the Sixties to serendipitously dress their villains using the same color palette? Some kind of morphic field, perhaps? That doesn't make sense. But think about it — The Joker, Lex Luthor, Mysterio, the Green Goblin, Kang the Conquerer, even the Vanisher in his first appearance (pre-X-Force brain tumor/evisceration). Why purple and green? What is the reason?! Dammit, supervillains! Give me answers! In all of your convoluted exposition, this is the one thing you never revealed! Aaargh!!! Okay. I'm good now. Where were we? Oh yeah! Five by Five Hundred. Because that was the topic of my post today. I know there was a reason....

"The New Black and Blue" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

(5 x 500) x 500 = (7 x 500)

About two and a half years ago, the Internet Jesus himself, Warren Ellis made a post on his website proposing a different approach to (micro)-blogging, flash fiction, and e-publishing. While I'm not sure if the larger project ever took off, it served as a point of inspiration for then-fresh-out-of-college Thom and his need to write with some kind of purpose/frequency/plan. I threw the idea out to on Facebook and Twitter, and gathered a few friends (with some help from Brian McGackin) to begin the first wave of writers and what would become FiveByFiveHundred.com (a name which may or may not have been inspired by one Faith Lehane). Over the last two years, we've gone through a number of different writers (myself and Brian are the only two that remain of the founding quintet), each producing their own unique posts once a week, with the only rule being a 500-word cap. Poetry, flash-fiction, memoirs, serialized fiction; anything and everything (and sometimes very different work by the same writer week to week). We recently hit our milestone 500^th post (which Lisa McColgan was not aware of when she submitted a wonderful treatise on her stupid cat, Mephisto, as the 500^th post). Around the same time, we lost our Wednesday contributor, Melanie Yarbrough (who is hard at work on larger projects, hence her need to back out), and as we searched for replacements, we realized something: why keep the project limited to five writers? Other than the obvious numeric allusion of the title, we had nothing to lose by adding weekends to our little writing project. The website has received pretty consistent traffic during the week, but more content never hurts, and there are plenty of other talented writers out there who deserve to have their work shown on our humble webspace, plus we had enough interested contributors, so we went with it.

(We toyed for about a minute with upping the word cap to 700, in order to maintain the numeric allusion of the title, but decided to say screw it)

And so, starting this week (well, I suppose, technically starting this past Saturday): Five By Five Hundred now presents seven talented writers, one for each day of the week, each one producing up to 500 words of content on his/her given day. There's lots of great stuff coming out of the site, and with such frequent contributions, there's always something new. So check it out if you haven't already, and enjoy some fantastic flashfiction/poetry/humor/et cetera!

As a jumping off point for you (since there are, well, 500+ posts to weed through already), here are our top 5 (again with the numeric alliteration!) most popular posts:

• "My First Bar Friend" (Thom Dunn)
• "How I Would Rescue Anne Boleyn From Her Execution (Assuming I Had a Time Machine)" (Lisa McColgan)
• "On the Origin of Reese's" (Brian McGackin) (also found in Broetry: Poetry for Dudes, available wherever books are solid!)
• "Productivity" (Lisa McColgan)
• "How To Make Love to a Robot (or other synthetic objects with simulated intelligence and emotional responses)" (Thom Dunn)

And here's to five hundred more. People, or posts, I'm not really sure.

(Also this post totally clocked in ~500 words. NATCH. Booyah.)

Just Another Manic Monday (for a crazy lady)

For some reason, every awkward/terrifying/bizarre thing that happens to me when leaving work gets turned into a silly, traditional poem. Don't know why. Just run with it. There's this woman who walks up and down Massachusetts Avenue near my office, carrying a mirror out in front of her and admiring herself while she walks. I always just assumed she was insane (and that her vanity happened to be a side product of said insanity), and let her walk along her merry way, insanity and all. And mirror.

That is, until this past Thursday, when she assaulted me on my way to the train (on my way to the airport, on way to DC, on my way to another train, on way to Cadillac Carl and his Crimson Cadillac Company, on my way to Maryland for a wedding, on my way to a bus in New York City, on my way back to Boston. But I digress). "Liar!" she screamed, "You are liar! Liar! You bad! Evil Liar! LIAR!" etc., etc., with a bloodcurdling shrillness that was so wretched that it actually gave me goosebumps and left me shaken up for the next half hour. I don't frighten easily, but having a crazy Asian lady with a mirror run at you screaming "Liar!" like you just raped and murdered her family — well, that can be a little intense.

So naturally, I immortalized her madness in a poem. Enjoy!

"The Manic Mirror Maid of Massachusetts Avenue" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

Final ALEJANDRO AND THE FAME demos

We've been working on these for about a month between recording, mixing, and mastering, but I'm finally satisfied with the results — and I hope you are as well! All instruments were recorded/engineered by my, except for the lead vocals which were done by Paul Cantillon (aka "Cody Grey"). We'll be sending these out to some clubs as we try to book some more shows, so keep an eye out for our updated events list. In the meantime, enjoy, and tell your friends to do the same. [soundcloud url="http://api.soundcloud.com/playlists/1035013" height="200"]

Alejandro and the Fame — Boston's premiere all-male Lady Gaga cover band

Behold: The Cyborg Head of Stan Lee!

Clearly I've been pretty busy with this playwriting fellowship, writing and re-writing and writing some more. (I'm pretty sure I killed about 7 trees in the last 2 weeks. WHOOPS) And of course, as soon as I'm back to Boston, I'm immediately thrown back into the grind. As such, this week's post on Five By Five Hundred isn't a new piece of writing, per se; instead, it's a monologue from my play that unfortunately had to be cut (by no fault of its own, of course). Amongst the (many) other bizarre, larger-than-life characters featured in True Believers, there is one that stands above the rest.

Or, rather, rests on a wooden base with plastic wires and tubing, presumably for life support. Meet: The Cyborg Head of Stan Lee. Which is kind of like the Head of the John Baptist, or Pope Sylvester II's brazen head, except with more clever catch phrases like, "Stay tuned, True Believers!" and "Excelsior!"

"The Cyborg Head of Stan Lee" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

(And let's be honest: now you're REALLY intrigued by this new play I'm working on, right? Thought so.)

True Believers Staged Reading

The first public staged reading of my new play, True Believers, took place today at the Berkshire Fringe Festival, following two weeks of intense workshopping. The cast was as follows:

• Chad Mailer..........Ryan Marchione
• Billy Horowitz..........Joshua Ramos
• Ted Thompson..........Bill Shein
• Chloe Long..........Bethany Geiger
• Kt Watts..........Kristen Sparhawk
• Box/Ensemble..........Timothy Ryan Olson
• Calvin..........Hector Rivera
• Ensemble..........Clelia Sweeney
• The Cyborg Head of Stan Lee..........Himself

Special thanks to my director, Keith Bulla, and dramaturg/playwright mentor Laura Maria Censabella. Overall, the script seemed to be well received, and I made a lot of progress on it over the past 2 weeks, tightening the story and sharpening the edges. There'll be another draft coming up, so stay tuned to see where your favorite Comic-Con play goes next!