My friends Eric Marsh and Andrew Stasiulis have devoted the past four years of their lives to making a film called ORDERS. It's a fever dream of a modern war movie that hits uncomfortably close to home. If you couldn't make it to Lithuania last December to see it in the Kaunas International Film Festival, you can view it now via NoBudge.
Randomly think of a thing. Let it bump around your head a bit. If the bumping gets too loud, start writing the words with the nearest writing device. See how far you get. The more words usually mean a higher degree of personal interest. Stop when it suits you.
There's more, of course, but not too much: at fewer than 200 words this has to be the most succinct and effective bit of writing advice ever published.
My granny, my mom's mom, was a heck of a lady. She practically raised me when I was very young. She was my cheering section at ballgames, my enabler at the Entenmann's factory store, and a masterful teller of tales. She had this way of speaking you couldn't quite place, situated somewhere between the put-upon airs of the Mid-Atlantic accent and that of a down-and-out Chicago drunk (though she herself didn't drink much in my lifetime), replete with sprawling vowels and drawling consonants; it depended on the story she was telling.Read More
A re-publish of the personal appeal I posted to Facebook asking for support of a new comedy festival I'm helping produce.
Dear friend, acquaintance, current or former colleague, and supporter of stand-up comedy in Aurora:
If you know me, you know I love comedy. If you know me well, you also know that I’ve never been comfortable asking for help.
In this note I’m asking for your help to launch On The Fox Comedy Festival, the first ever (that I’m aware of) comedy festival in Aurora, Illinois.Read More
I wrote up The Law Office Pub & Music Hall in Yorkville, Illinois, one of my favorite music venues in the Fox Valley, for the #EnjoyAurora blog.
Read the article, "How Grammy Winners Find Their Way to Yorkville, Illinois".
The preamble to the latest issue of Lapham's Quarterly contains an unexpected treat in the shape of a portrait of Thelonious Monk.
His manager, Harry Colomby, had said of him, “He’s so straight, it makes you nervous”—married to the same woman for seventeen years, careful father of two children, despite his various troubles with authority, convinced that he was a citizen of the best country in the world, lived on the best block in the best town, drove the best car, had found the best wife. In many ways naive, he walked, talked, laughed, danced as the spirit moved him, an honest man in a not-so-honest world, believing, as he once told Colomby, “The truth is not supposed to hurt you.”