Christmas with Skynet

Last night, I invaded A Christmas Carol.

Dad’s Garage closed Invasion: Christmas Carol last night. Invasion, for the uninitiated, is an improvised version of the holiday classic. The basic premise is that each night, a random character is added to the mix with no advanced warning to the regular cast members. The unknown character is first introduced as the ghost of Xmas past, and then is sprinkled in through the remainder of the show. The cast members must incorporate the new character’s presence into the storyline.

Previously, some of the random characters have been a barbarian, a thief, a department store Santa, a Ghostbuster, and Hitler.

Last year, they did Invasion: Our Town with the same concept using the Thorton Wilder play. I invaded that one as an Indiana Jones-like character. Jesus made an appearance in a different episode.

I invaded Carol as The Terminator. Or rather, an early prototype Terminator, the T-1, “before they added bad breath.”1

Upon discovering that Scrooge was not Sarah Connor, I agreed to join Scrooge on his viewings of the past.

Later on in the show in a poorhouse scene, the husband of Scrooge’s old flame turned out to be John Connor, and a shootout ensued, killing all the poor (the front row of the audience). In the grand finale of the show, I finally discover Sarah Connor, wished her Merry Christmas, snapped her neck, and then we all said “God bless us, everyone!”

I am totally in the Xmas spirit now, humans.

1 A too-vague reference to the movie that likely no one got. But really, that was for me.

Foreshadowing the Weekend

There is 150 feet of 1″ manila rope in a box in our entry way, a slingshot in the basement, a roll of yellow poly twine on our kitchen counter, and a heavy bolt or nut somewhere on the premises.

There are two size #3 soccer balls in a bag in the entry way.

In the basement, there are a number of unused toys stored in shelves in the back room.

In the back of a small theater in Little 5 Points, there is a play-board with one more show left in it.

In the backyard, there are a number of left-over fence stakes still staked in the ground.

There are squeaky doors leading to the bedrooms of children, and a can of WD40 in the garage.

These material items form a map of my weekend to come.

On drawing, taming Eden, trips, Driving, home

I read the Comics Curmudgeon every day, and there has been an advertisement on there for The Structure of Man set of DVDs for learning to do figure drawing from scratch (rather than from a model), essentially cartooning. I watched an excerpt during lunch today and thought it looked good.

Drawing is one of those hobbies that I’ve returned to on and off. I don’t have any innate talent at it, but I really enjoy the activity of pencil on paper, trying to capture something. So, through dogged persistence I’ve acquired a modicum of skill, but almost all of it is geared towards reproducing what I see in front of me, rather than creating illustrations from imagination. Of course, one helps with t’other to an extent.

I loved the drawing class I took in college, and the one I took here at the Woodruff Arts Center. They have these benches that you straddle, and mount a board with clips on to hold your paper. It’s an ideal position for drawing. If you draw with paper flat on a table and don’t lean over it far enough, drawings can come out elongated when you hold them up perpendicular to your line of eyesight. The bench and board put the drawing surface at just the right angle. Despite the fact that they look uncomfortable, I always had no problem with using them for the three hour classes.

If I have free time during our beach vacation this year, I’m going to focus on figure drawing from scratch. Unfortunately, it’s more like exercising than riding a bike… the skills deteriorate when neglected.

steakums had a visit with goudabonbon today and their fancy new backyard playset, and came back all fired up to do some damage to the savage wilderness behind our house. I see a lot of yardwork in my immediate future.

Not that I’m complaining. Whenever I grill on our back deck, I look down upon the monstrous foliage and think You will be mine, oh yes, you will be mine.

Where did I put my machete?

I go back to Juarez in a couple weeks. I suppose I’ve had enough of a reprieve that I shouldn’t complain.

I think I’m going to go see Drove at Dad’s Garage tomorrow night. Anyone stalking me… that’s where you’ll find me. Probably.

It is now time to go home.

Happy Birthday, Dad’s Garage

Dad’s Garage Theater is celebrating its 10th season this weekend.

For all the ups and downs I’ve had with this place over the years, in the final analysis, I would not have had the wonderful friends, wife, and life I have now without it. The importance of that peculiar institution (Dad’s, not slavery) simply can’t be overstated.

So, a tip of the hat to the Little Theater That Sometimes Could, and best wishes for another 10.