I brought my MacBook to my niece Sloan's (that's her at left) and we decided to have a contest to see who could use Garage Band to write the most horrible 60 second song in less than 30 minutes. For some continuity, both pieces have two elements in common: her saying "gerbil" and me saying "I don't want be in here." We ran off to separate rooms and got to work. Here's the horrible crap we came up with.
If you vote (in the comments section of this post), you also get to suggest what prize the winner gets. Apparently writing crappy music exhausted our creative reserves, because we can't think of an appropriate prize.
"The Cheese Purse of Freedom," by Sloan Taylor (1 minute, 16 seconds).
Special bonus points for use of phone jingle noise, "boi-oi-oing" noise, and for somehow conjuring up the ghost of 1986-era Don Johnson, even though Don Johnson's not actually dead yet.
"The Gerbil Klaxon Terrible Music Project," by Elizabeth McQuern (50 seconds).
Special bonus points for use of jingle bells, a klaxon, and the horns that show up in my ChUC theme song and everything else I write.
More from Sloan. This was her trip to the Chicago Botanic Garden, and you can see her real grandma in this one, not some random adorable tiny Asian grandma stand-in. I was just at her house and she showed me the "real," non-YouTube version of this, and it's much much sharper, in fact, this one is disappointingly blocky, but it's still pretty great, and the grandma message at the end made me cry three times in a row. Whatever. I'm a sap. Enjoy.
Sloan and I hopped aboard the CTA to Chicago's marvelous Garfield Park Conservatory on Tuesday, to do the first of what we hope will be the first of several little parallel movie projects this summer. Lots of fun.
She brought her professional-quality vidcam, and created a really artistic and sophisticated little movie.
I brought my crappy old 30-grainy-seconds-at-a-time digital camera (which is probably worth about $50) and created a crazy video pastiche that includes a time-lapse hot dog eating montage. Call me well-rounded, or call me constantly hungry, but I always enjoy art and culture that much more when there's snacking involved.
It's so cool how we have such distinct impressions of shared experiences. One thing that made it into both of our movies this time was a big group photo moment that we happened upon near the end of our visit. Sloan has this really sweet fixation on cute elderly Asian women, who stir up her intense affection for her Filipino grandma, and there was one in this group who prompted her to whip out her camera on our way out the door and catch just one more moment. Hmm...I wonder if we should try to work a tiny Asian grandma into every parallel project from now on. It could become our trademark.
Let's call this the "I love my family and friends, and not just because I'm sick" post. (Also, let's call it the longest blog post in the history of time and space. Feel free to simply scroll down, scanning for your own name.)
How sick? "Coughing until I see stars, bedclothes in the laundry because I'm having trouble keeping Pedialite down" sick. Ugh! I'll spare you more details, because that's not the point. The point is, I'm feeling puny, and anxious about my upcoming stand-up debut (and everything else in life), but still okay, because I have such a great network of support around me.
Last night I called my brother feebly begging for a quick pit stop at my building on his way home from work. "Could you maybe bring me some soup, and juice, and kleenex?" He showed up an hour later with five kinds of soup, a gallon of juice, two bottles of Powerade, Pedialite, dried mangoes (which he knows I love), carrot cake (without raisins, which he knows I don't love), a little chocolate Kinder egg, tea, tons of remedies, and several more things I'm probably forgetting. Is that above and beyond the call of duty, or what?
And now, under the influence of DayQuil (I'm a lightweight) a schmoopy tally of some of my family and friends, and the generous and supportive things they've done for me lately:
Sloan, and her non-stop creative flow. She helps me realize and pursue things that would languish in my head and never become reality. She keeps me honest with myself about what I want to do, and holds me to task when I'm retreating out of fear of the unknown.
The approximately twenty members of my family, who showed up in Chicago last weekend to see my show at Second City, and then celebrate for several days afterward. Even my 95-year old great aunt, who sat front row center for all of the dirty jokes, just dipped her little head and giggled when things got racy.
Brett, who bought my stage fright and is helping me think through exactly what the hell I think I'm doing with all of this comedy and writing stuff. Him taking this ridiculousness seriously has made me take it seriously.
Mark, Northwestern's New Media guru and my comedy godfather, who was the first one to push me toward Second City, where he thrived years ago. He is unwavering in his encouragement.
Sharon, my best friend since middle school, the girl who knew me when I was just the awkward dorky girl getting kicked out of Mrs. Goffinett's English class for making everyone laugh, well before any of today's comedy stuff was anything more than a flickering spark in some dark recess of my heart. She's thousands of miles away working for Save the Children in Malawi, Africa, but has been as indispensable a support as friends who live a block away.
Ruth, one of those amazing people that fate pushes into your path at the perfect moment for both of you. She's starting a new life as a writer here in Chicago, too, and has believed in me enough to take me on as a writing partner with her new company. She's also warm and funny and lots of fun.
Karen, a beloved neighbor and friend, who has held my hand through all manner of difficult personal evolution, and who sent me this after seeing my show: "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." (Anais Nin)
K-Rock, my sister from another mutha, and possibly the most photogenic person in the universe. Somehow her adorableness is multiplied through the lens of any camera. The internet is a strange and wonderful place, and the way we met is proof of that. I guess I should throw my other Apiary/Bastion siblings in here, because they're pretty great, too. Hear that, Nate and Keith?
Nancy, who has steadied me through lots of self-doubt despite my very spotty attendance at her wonderful writing group, which includes the delightful Nudle. (The writing group folks were the first people who I tested the stage fright auction idea on, and they didn't kick me out or suggest anti-psychotics, for which I will be eternally grateful.)
A variety of blog friends, who have been cheerleading my various creative efforts from afar. They include (but are not limited to) Coaster Punchman, Dale, Chancelucky, and Fizzle and Pop, who unexpectedly beat me to the punch and did stand-up himself last week.
Gotta give props to a wideassortment of comedianfriends, who have been encouraging of my long-delayed desire to do stand-up, and have offered to do everything from showing up at my first performance to talking me through jitters on the phone at any hour of the night and day.
Last but not least, I'd like to mention Brandi, another internet/comedy blog friend, who became a real-life friend when she moved to Chicago after a series of e-mails with me and K-Rock. Unbelievablytalented and sweet, Brandi almost literally held my hand while I was listing my stage fright on eBay. Without her, I may easily have gotten frustrated with the technology, lost faith in my project, and given up.
I mention Brandi last because I want to give her a special plug. Go here to listen to a couple of her beautiful little musical nuggets. Her song "The Dinosaur" was made internet famous by Said the Gramophone, who was enchanted and speculated that The Gongs (Brandi) must be "three linguistics majors and a physics major."
Her song "I Didn't Try" may be the most beautiful and poignant song I've ever heard, and has become very meaningful to me in many ways. The sadness in that song is bearable only because it was followed up with "Gotta Take Care," which is the "Brandi found her courage and moved to Chicago after all" song. The best line: "I need to be scared sometimes to get anything done."
In summation, I'd like to make the less than original observation that nothing in life that's meaningful and worth doing can be done alone. We need each other to move through life and strive for goals. All of these people (and more) have been helping me. I hope that I'm helping them, too.
For your viewing pleasure, a rockin' video for "The Dinosaur":
Sloan has posted her first effort toward this parallel book project I mentioned. It's about her adventures in apartment living, take one. It's especially apt since right now she's apartment hunting for the first time in over five years. This time she's savvy enough to look at place after place before making a decision. The first time around? Not so much.
"...no, I would find the most pest infested, overpriced, code-violating pile of bricks within city limits. Well, to be honest, I didn’t set out with such lofty goals in mind, but had I known this was to be the plan all along, I could have saved myself a lot of runaround."
She called me from work yesterday to breathlessly tell me that, after sending out a blanket e-mail to family and friends announcing the first installment of the project, she managed to snag over 1300 visitors to her website. A rather amazing start to a project I'm excited to see take shape.
Also, last night, she gathered some accommodating friends from work, borrowed a friend's home, and shot her first horror short. She had read about twelve new books about film and technique before plotting this one out, including David Mamet's "On Directing Film," which gave her a ton of new ideas about montage and subtlety (not the tomato-throwing montage subtlety she's already mastered), so I'm thrilled to see how this one turns out.
Should you care to click over to eBay, you can do the universe a favor and relieve me of my stage fright with a reasonable bid. (More details on this on posts below.)
Yeah, I'm selling my stage fright on eBay. I want to finally start doing stand-up comedy (after only about 20 years of thinking about it), and this is the only obvious and reasonable solution to the problem.
Below is the ridiculous and fruit-smashing-licious video that Sloan and I shot together to commemorate the occasion. If I'd held out hope for anonymity in the blogosphere (or at this point, dignity), I suppose it's time to bid that hope a sassy sayonara.
By the way, here's Sloan's new website,featuring her amazing writing and burgeoning filmmaking skills. Yes, some of the photos of her (all of which were taken by yours truly) are stunning, but keep your tongue in your head. She's still my niece, after all. Oh, and here's Sloan's blog entry about this recent creative adventure. I know, it's getting awfully self-referential in here. Somebody stop us.
I brought my MacBook to my niece Sloan's (that's her at left) and we decided to have a contest to see who could use Garage Band to write the most horrible 60 second song in less than 30 minutes. For some continuity, both pieces have two elements in common: her saying "gerbil" and me saying "I don't want be in here." We ran off to separate rooms and got to work. Here's the horrible crap we came up with.
"The Cheese Purse of Freedom," by Sloan Taylor (1 minute, 16 seconds).
"The Gerbil Klaxon Terrible Music Project," by Elizabeth McQuern (50 seconds).
