GODDARD COLLEGE - G2

Went up to Vermont for the first few days of '08 for my second residency at Goddard College, where I'm working on my MFA in Creative Writing. It was a pretty mind-blowing experience, read three novels and a couple dozen short stories, gave three readings of my own work, got lots of ideas for stories and insight into the craft and quality time with very good friends. Had a bit of wine. Meant to keep this up to date from there, but there was far too much going on to do so. Failing that, here is a short pictorial romp.

This is the view of NY from the plane. Very cold there in January. I wound up having to fly into Syracuse due to the soulless machinations of Delta Airlines, but my good friends Charles and Cara picked me up. We see them here:


Getting down at the dance. Many drinks were had and fireworks were shot afterwards. At Goddard, they teach you that the passive voice is not to be employed, under any circumstances.


Myself, Joe Ricker (my roommate), and Charles Hale. Cara Hoffman was not present for this picture because she was off dancing with her advisor. Such things always end well.


Charles Hale cannot be contained. On the dance floor. In life.


The glowglobes of Goddard, always lit at night to illumine shenanigans.


The other vertices of the Hypercube, on a pilgrimage to clear out all our bad ideas.

MAGIC HOUR

On film shoots, they call those few minutes when the sun's setting Magic Hour. I managed to get a few shots Tuesday after my Pynchon workshop and the one on Graphic novels (for which the eminent faculty chose bits from WATCHMEN, PLANETARY, & PROMETHEA, amongst others!)

The Clocktower. I think about Marty McFly's 1.21 jigawatts every single time I walk by.

The Haybarn Theatre, where people give readings and dance and graduate and hurl the occasional chair.


The first thing you see when you drive into campus. If you time it right.

Magic Hour took place on 1/08. Of course.

A BASS FAMILY CHRISTMAS

Catherine and I had a time in Lubbock ranging from fairly rocking to liverally apocalyptic (yes, that’s a new adverb, my liver caught all manner of revelation, as you are about to see listed). Best just to take it one night at a time.

FRIDAY (12/21/07)
We arrive in Lubbock and make our first stop at the Grand Opening of McGilliguddy’s, an Irish sports bar just started up by an old school buddy of ours who I’ve known for twenty years. Great to see Mom, Dad, and Brett. Had a double Jack and a couple glasses of wine before getting dropped off by the wives for four hours of accelerated debauchery at the Spoon watching Dangerous Dan Earnest tear it up with Dad’s first (or second?) client ever on bass, one Glen Birch, and local stalwart Robert Smith on drums. I only remember the first two rounds of Jack but am told there were several more. I do recall taking my first chug off a new bottle of Lone Star with such gusto that all 12 oz. seemed to be missing. Brett and I got up and sat in with the band and crushed an Albert King tune in C along with Whipping Post. Concluded the night getting dragged down the hall to bed by both parents protesting that I had to hang out with my little brother, then apologizing to the wife that they were so loud. A fine beginning.

SATURDAY
Missed the AM, obviously. Watched LOST 3.7 with Brett. Accompanied Dad and Brett jewelry shopping for Mom. Catherine ducked in to give her opinion after shopping with her father. Went to Uncle Mark’s house for an extended family party that went from maybe 6-10. Stayed away from the brown, but rocked the red, easily killed a bottle myself before coming home to hang out with Brett and Stew. We killed a case of Lone Star and ________

SUNDAY
Another slow opening of the day. Picked up the sister-in-law from the airport and had dinner with the Millers at a deserted Chili’s, deserted like we were in a Stephen King novel. Really amazing steak and portabella fajitas, almost gave me hope for the onslaught of viral corporate strangulation upon our fine country. Then off to the Spoon for the regular Sunday Blues Jam, which was apeshit. Brett and I pounded Jack and Shiner like Christmas would never come from the moment we walked in the door. Got to get up and play with Johnny & the Trundlers (Chris, Blake & JT) for the first time since ’04 and we just fucking crushed it, hit Lemon Song (Led Zeppelin) Up In Arms (Foo Fighters) and Whipping Post (Allman Bros.) like we were still playing 50 gigs a year. Muscular. So great to make music with those fools. Then Brett got up, JT stayed up, and the great John Sprott took the stage for us to lay down our customary funk/blues double shot of Cissy Strut (Meters) and Killing Floor (Willie Dixon). And we burned those down, as usual. Then bassist extraordinaire Sean Frankhauser took the stage in his Santa hat to sing Thank You Fallitinme Be Mice Elf (Sly & the Family Stone) to charming effect. Brett’s girl Laura had just landed and the three of us concluded late Sunday with the newest two Southparks that none had seen.

Johnny & the Trundlers in action.



The Bass Brothers.



MONDAY (12/24/07)
Went to church, sang some carols and hymns. Came home, opened presents, good times were had by all. Split a bottle of MacAllan with Brett. Watched THE LAST WALTZ here, stunning Scorsese doc of the last show by The Band. Brett’s road bible of late. Highly recommended.


Mom and Dad
Brett, Laura, Catherine and myself.

TUESDAY (CHRISTMAS)
Mellow. Went over to Catherine’s grandfather’s for an early lunch and to open presents. Came back and got more presents from Santa Claus and had Thanksgiving Dinner with the family. Watched the EXTRAS Christmas special, which was impeccable, killer George Michael and Clive Owen bits adorning Gervais skewering of this celebrity-devouring culture we’ve evolved into. Late night, hit LOST 3.8-10 with Brett and Laura, one turned into three, you can’t turn it off. I enjoy drinking with Desmond David Hume.

WEDNESDAY
Mucked about. Went shopping with Catherine and Mom and Dad, got lots of great clod-weather clothes for Vermont. Had a calzone from One Guy from Italy, the finest object to bear that name available. Watched more LOST with Brett and Laura. Slow night, so we went to Cricket’s to watch Plain Brown Wrapper, the local supergroup comprised of Sprott, Sean, JT and DG Flewellyn. Carbombs, Jack, Guinness and Shiners were consumed. The Night They Drove Ol’ Dixie Down was played. All was well.

(until we got home and a crack about who did a better drum fill on that tune, Levon Helm or Steve Gorman on the Black Crowes cover turned into a two hour fight between Brett and I, probably our first in twenty-odd years—at least this time the BB gun never came out)(Dad was up reading the paper before all was said and done. Fight concluded with drunken snuggling on the couch during aforementioned tune and the encore)

THURSDAY
The cracks starting to show, obviously. Went and hung out with my boy Luis, saw his new house, talked about our comic. It was Mom and Dad’s 38th anniversary, so we went to the Frenchman’s Inn, this killer one-chef restaurant down the street, something of a tradition. Killer meal, great conversation.
Turned in early, everyone out by midnight. (which of course meant that Brett and I woke up at 4:45 and 5:30 respectively, wondering what was wrong)(ha, waking up at 4:45 AM is such an impossibility with Brett that he experienced crippling disorientation for entire seconds wondering who had turned out the Sun!) I stayed up until 10:30 and then finally dropped off for a few more hours, which oh wait means it’s___

FRIDAY
Ran around all afternoon here, ate lunch at Tom & Bingo’s with Brett, was a VIP guest at my local comics store that wasn’t technically open, went and hung out with a gang of high school friends and played too much Guitar Hero III with a nephew, then gave the family a dry run of my Pynchon workshop for Vermont. They were suitably dismayed. Then had one of the best Dad steaks EVER (and those who have had one appreciate the caliber of that statement). Then Blake and Chris and Espino came over and, yeah, we killed a whole bottle of Vodka on Laura’s kickass pomegranate and dirty martinis before it was suddenly 3 and Brett and I had to sprint through the rest of the season of LOST, were slugging shots of Crown from the bottle until 5:30 for the crushing last scene that’s got me counting days even now.

Which made breakfast at the diner five hours later pretty wonderful, I wot.

Catherine and I got home last night pretty wrecked. Turned in early. Got up today on ten glorious hours of unaddled sleep. We double-featured Sweeney Todd and Juno and caught Texadelphia cheese steaks and now I guess I need to get back to work sprucing up my presentation, but that’s what we did. I’ll post some pics later.

A BASS FAMILY THANKSGIVING

Fine time in Lubbock, as usual. Ate too much. Managed not to drink too much until the last night, which more than made up for it. Gah.

This was the scene at 2:00 on the big day before the Great Devouring began.


I don't see enough of Craig (pictured here with his lovely wife, Lindsay) since he moved to New York . Notice the longing in the eyes and the palpable sense that the evening will be over all too soon.


I'm flanked by Blake, Stew, Chris, and Craig. All of my groomsmen except my own little brother. Ouch. Not that we would've survived if he'd been there. Killed a bottle of 1.75 Jack without him. Truly horrifying.


The morning after.

WIZARD-WORLD TX '07

Went to Dallas the weekend before Thanksgiving to promote the new comic anthology me and a gang of Austinites have released. Had a fine time, got a bunch of autographs from various talented artists, signed some autographs, refused to sell the book to enough saddened ten year olds that I think we're going to go back and make it all-ages. Bought a shot for Scott Porter, one of the best actors on Friday Night Lights and a huge comic book fan in his own right. Oh, and got probably $300 worth of books for a cool $100 and Catherine bought me the Holy Grail, those 3 issues of Flex Mentallo we couldn't even find in San Diego.

Some pics:


The Team Supreme. Luis Estrada and I had a kickass four hours of brainstorming that went well into Sunday morning in which we reworked and compressed the first six pgs into five and invented an incredibly elaborate backstory that will be a blast to weave into the book.



This is Adam Kubert, one of the best artists in the industry. Our table was just down the way from his and I felt so much like his buddy after taking this on Friday that I yelled out, "Good morning, Adam Kubert!" the next two days and "Safe travels, Adam Kubert!" at the end of the day Sunday. He could tell how harmless I was, but I tried not to move too suddenly when I was around him.



Right before this shot, he said, "I like your shirt." I actually didn't get it until I was walking away. There were a lot of comic books around.



Ol' Blue Eyes, himself.



Little known branches of the Claus family tree. That new Vince Vaughn flick really could have used these guys, I'm guessing.



I quickly followed this dude's example and had a fine time drinking beer on the convention floor.



The assembled crew, except for Eroll, who was out sketching for cigarettes, I think. That still cracks me up. From left: Brian, Rita, McClain, John, Chris, Seth, Wayne, and your very own dynamic duo.



And this is what we saw when we walked out Sunday night to drive back to Austin. Only way it could have been better is if there was a rocket lifting off. But then, I always feel that way.

SMASHED 11/13/07@THE BACKYARD

Went to see the Smashing Pumpkins on their big reunion tour. This felt kind of odd, as they were one of my very favorite bands ten years ago and i haven't listened to them that much of late, even with this last new album that came out that was better than I figured it would be but not as good as I'd hoped. Listened to some old live shows on the way out there. It's funny how many things are embedded in your psyche, running around your head, a part of you that you barely remember, sometimes don't even know is there. This was my eighth time to see them, Catherine's fifth. For the Mellon Collie tour, Catherine and I saw them in Austin, drove to Dallas to see them the next night, and then drove five hours to Lubbock after the show. Used to pull into town after sunup quite a bit. Funny how sane and normal that seemed at the time.

Anyway, the present:

They played a pretty excellent set. Chose a couple of tunes I never would've figured. Opened with United States, the best song off the new one. Played Drown, one of the best songs ever, was so glad to hear the first notes. Best thing of the night, though, had to be Starla, never seen that live in all these years, surely one of the greatest B-sides ever recorded, some of the most beautiful ethereal backwards guitar that ever was.

Billy played 1979 solo and Perfect with Jimmy accompanying him on tambourine. They came back with more rock bombast and even encored with Cherub Rock, which was killer. But then they got this old friend of theirs up on stage and played a couple of tunes and it was all right at first but was too long by about ten minutes, totally sucked the energy out of the show. But as Catherine said, Billy was up there grinning and looking like he was having a fine old time, and we haven't really seen so much of that over the years.

Great show.

SET LIST

United States
Bullet with Butterfly Wings
Drown
Bring the Light
Tonight, Tonight
Tarantula
Starla
Hummer
1979
Perfect
Today
Stand Inside Your Love
Zero
Pomp and Circumstances
Superchrist
Doomsday Clock
Heavy Metal Machine

Encore: Cherub Rock

2nd Encore: Lucky 13

With Jimmy Frog: I Only Play 4 Money
Taxman

Solo Salvage: Disarm

ECLECTIC WEEKEND

We mixed it up this weekend, lots of varied choices for entertainment. The Smashing Pumpkins concert scheduled for Friday got bumped into next week after Jimmy Chamberlin went to the hospital (in a stomach-plunging twist reminiscent of Summer '96--here's hoping Redrum was not involved). But that gave us the night off to see Breakin' String, a local troupe of actors, put on their performance of Anton Chekov's THE SEAGULL (recommended by Brian K. Vaughan as "the best writing about writing ever"). And it was excellent to go in cold, with no idea as to the plot. The ensemble was incredible, boasting veterans and young talents alike (including one gangly young man from Lubbock, TX in a bit part!). It was a riveting 2 and 1/2 hours of theatre.

That was followed by the TX Bookfest on Saturday. There weren't many authors I was really excited about seeing, but the exception was Tom Perrotta, author of LITTLE CHILDREN. If you're reading this, you probably know how crushed I was by that movie. Had to power the book for this experience, as well as his latest THE ABSTINENCE TEACHER. He gave a reading in the legislative chambers, which was kind of a funky experience. I got him to break down all the changes to the novel that went into the screenplay and turns out most of the darkness was added by director Todd Field. Here, we find Catherine considering an important piece of pending legislation while waiting for the author to begin.





Then we went to the new Alamo Drafthouse Saturday night for a screening of LITTLE CHILDREN up on the big screen, following a Q&A with the author. So, LITTLE CHILDREN, check. Pretty much picked that one apart for the time being.

Then on Sunday, Catherine and I drove out to Lost Maples, this state natural area renowned for the beauty of its color-changing leaves. We went out as a late anniversary celebration and had a fine old time roasting hot dogs and s'mores over a serious campfire, sang songs with the 12-string, drank a bottle of wine, and got a load of the best sky of stars I can remember seeing. Caught six damn shooting stars. My wishes started canceling each other out! Then we woke up and went on a five-mile hike, up this "hill" with 2,200 ft. elevation (almost half a mile qualifies as more than a hill, say I), saw some beautiful sights, got a little too much sun on our faces, and generally enjoyed the lack of cellphones, teh Intrawub, or Home Depot (still missed Chili's, of course).

Here are the highlights:


Observing the author in his natural environment.



Came across this guy strutting down the trail on a short walk before sunset. Immediately regretted not capturing Catherine's reaction at this moment instead.




Sunset on the hills.




The campsite.


After our evening hike, Catherine said, "Can you beLIEVE I've had these hiking boots for eleven years?" I allowed as how they had held up remarkably.
One mile later, we could believe that the boots were eleven years old, yes.



This is the view from the top of the "hill" where we ate lunch at a scenic overlook. The word "overlook" is kind of charged for all time, isn't it? Brr, hedge animals.


The view from the top of the most gorgeous section of the trail, as you are about to see up close.



After another couple of miles, the soles were flapping like the '20s, so we had to surgically excise them, which caused a marked shift in Catherine's demeanor.


When we got to the bottom, there was this grove of trees that had the most beautiful selection of colors we saw for the entire hike. To wit:


Catherine took this one, the best shot yet.


Which, of course, inspired me to go nuts on that theme. Here's my best.


And we took a few dozen more, but you can only post so many pictures of nature sans explosions, so I'll just close out on the happy couple.

AMUCK

Went out on 6th Street last night dressed as The Idea, the hero of my upcoming comic-book series.


You can't kill an idea, Evey.




Dig the old school yellow insignia.




Blending in beside Beetlejuice and three ladies of questionable repute.



The Idea can cling to walls.