Weblog Archives

So the poison oak I got while geocaching two weeks ago is finally on the way out, leaving behind some spectacular scarring on my arm.

The best thing? I was using this Caladryl lotion the last few days to really dry it up and stop the itching, which it did...unfortunately irritating the hell out of the rest of my skin, and causing a rash which itches just as badly as the poison oak ever did.

Adding insult to injury, my geocaching log notifier sent me a notice yesterday that someone logged the cache I was trying to find. I wonder if they got the bonus poison oak? =]

So I went to the doctor this morning, and he put me on prednisone for a week, and gave me an ointment to calm the rash.

Oy. Vey.

Put up the Christmas lights last night, and have a great story to go with it. Working on it now.

I think it's going to be a really wonderful holiday season this year.

Very astute readers will notice that I've moved the sale info up to the top of the page, so I can keep writing and keep people informed about those exciting holiday gift opportunities. =]

I sent the first 30 8x10s this morning, to places like Austin, the UK, Germany, Puerto Rico, and the far off hamlet of Burbank!

I'm running out of Iron Maiden shots, but there are still Stand By Me and Red space Suit pictures left.

Oh, and if you haven't seen the entire Special Edition of Fellowship of the Ring, you simply must get offline NOW and go watch it.

We are in Santa Barbara. It is November, and Anne and I are here for our anniversary, walking back to our hotel after the first romantic dinner we've enjoyed in months.

Though it is Saturday night, this normally crowded street is nearly deserted, because it is pouring rain. A cold, relentless rain that soaks into my shoes and clings to my body. The cold cuts straight through me, numbing my hands and feet.

The few people who have chosen to brave the storm are huddled in doorways and under awnings. Anne and I share a too-small umbrella in a futile attempt to stay dry.

It has been a wonderful evening, ending a wonderful day. We haven't gotten to spend much time just enjoying each other's company, just being together for several weeks, and I am cherishing every rain-soaked moment.

The storm intensifies as we hurry back to our hotel, turning downspouts to waterfalls, and the street into a small stream. Normally, the urge to stomp in puddles is irresistible to me, but the numbness is creeping up my legs now, and I need little encouragement to leave the puddles alone.

After a few blocks, the cold and rain is too much for me, and I suggest that we stop, and hail a cab.

Anne stops, and looks at me, her blue eyes gleaming. She says they're green, but they're blue...I see them whenever my mind wanders, so I know.

She steps out of the small shelter our umbrella is providing, and stands unprotected in the rain.

"I want to walk in the rain!" She declares.

"But it's 40 degrees!" I remind her, shivering. A few passersby look at us as if we're having a fight, and I chuckle to myself. They couldn't be more wrong.

"I don't care," she tells me, her hair falling down and clinging to the sides of her face, her jacket darkening as it absorbs the storm. "Someday, I'm going to want to walk in the cold rain, and feel it on my face, and I'm not going to be able to. So I'm going to do it now."

She reaches out and touches my cheek, and pulls my face to her. She leans towards me, kisses my nose, and walks away, her face cast upwards, her palms turned up to receive the rain.

She stomps into a puddle, and turns around.

"C'mon, you weenie! Walk with me!"

She is so beautiful, so joyous. The storm threatens to draw a curtain of rain around her, obscuring her from my view. Though she is twenty feet from me, I can see her beaming and feel her joy. She positively loves this.

I watch her, happily standing in the rain. In this moment I know why I married her. I know why she is the other half of my heartbeat.

But it's 40 degrees. There's no way I'm giving up this umbrella.

I lean against the rain, and close the distance between us. When I draw near her, she reaches out and knocks the umbrella out of my hand.

As it falls to the ground, she takes me in her arms. She pulls me to her, and kisses me.

"I love you," she says, rain dripping off her nose onto my face.

She does love me. It's one thing to say it, and one thing to hear it, but it's another thing to feel it.

"I love you too," I reply.

We stand there in the rain for a moment, looking at each other. We are soaking wet, freezing cold, and desperately in love.

Thought For Today:

" Regret is the worst of human emotions. There is no going back with regret. There is no future with regret. Regret is not something I live with. If there is something I wished I hadn't done, I don't do it anymore or I forgive myself and try better.

My life is my statement and I try to be true to myself and thusly to other people. Whatever my failings are, they are human and I try to perfect it each day. "

-William Fucking Shatner, at Slashdot

Just read this at boingboing:

"Spam-king drowning in snailmail spam

A spammer whose gleeful interview -- where he revelled in the money pouring in from spamming -- was Slashdotted is now drowning in catalogs and other junkmail. Slashdotters have submitted his name to every direct marketer on earch.

"They've signed me up for every advertising campaign and mailing list there is," he told me. "These people are out of their minds. They're harassing me..."

"Several tons of snail mail spam every day might just annoy him as much as his spam annoys me," wrote one of the anti-spammers.

Back in spring, a pipe in our front yard's sprinkler system burst. We tried to water the lawn by hand all summer, but we failed miserably and it died.

Long story short, we decided to put in new sprinklers and grass, and the whole process took the rest of summer, and all of autumn.

Yesterday, thanks to the the shockingly popular 8x10 sale, we finally laid down the sod, and turned our horribly ugly dirt lot into a beautiful front lawn.

Anne and I could never have done this on our own, and I want to publicly thank my friends and family who came over and spent their Saturday putting down almost 3,000 square feet of grass:

• Darin. You arrived at 7AM, and stayed until the sun went down. In addition top helping out, you kept me calm, each time I was sure we were doing it wrong and everything would die.
  
• Shane. Even though you had a wedding to attend in the afternoon, you came and helped. Your Cal Tech brain was most useful in ensuring we did our work as efficiently as possible. Good call on "The Buddy System."
  
• Jeremy. I didn't know you had to work in the afternoon and evening, but you came and helped anyway. Thank you for making me laugh hard all day.
  
• Jenn. I still can't believe that you worked while we all ate lunch. You were the last person to leave, and you helped me clean up the driveway. Thank you.
  
• Mom. Finally, you have first-hand experience being that "ditch digger" you always warned us against becoming when we were kids. 60 feet of trench is 59 feet more than I could have done on my own.
  
• Michelle. The layer of sod, the leveler of ground, the bringer of Krispy Kremes.
  
• BURNS! You helped us all morning and well into the afternoon, and then went and worked a long shift last night. You're always there for us when we need help, except for that one time you forgot...but after yesterday, we'll never speak of that time again.
  
• Dad. I'm glad that you didn't kill yourself surfing, and that you came all the way to our house from Rincon. The caution tape clearly and politely says, "Stay the fuck off my new lawn, you little creeps" to all passersby.
  

As I stood in my driveway last night, looking across my beautiful new lawn, I felt a pride in my house that I haven't felt in over a year. It just looks beautiful, and we never could have done this without the help that you guys gave us...and that's the best part of all of this, IMHO: you guys all gave up your Saturday to help us out, and you all worked harder than I ever expected. You guys are awesome.

Thank you.

Just found out that this interview I did with The Force Dot Net is up!

Thanks to everyone, including Chris (who did the interview), for letting me know about it. :)

Oh man, I am so $!@%^&ing sore from doing the yard this weekend. I gave myself tendonitis in my right arm (yeah, the poison oak one...I swear, this arm is going to try and secede from the rest of my body) so it is swollen up to almost twice the size it normally is...I look like a freak, but in a good way.

In the continuing saga of writer-slash-actor: My manuscript is still with my editor. He's given me some very useful notes already, and I'm hoping to have the whole thing back by the end of this week. Sadly, it will not be ready in time for Xmas. :(

On the actor side, I have an audition today for "The Polar Express," which is being directed by Robert Zemeckis, and stars Tom Hanks.

Yeah, I'm thinking the same thing you are, "Tom Hanks and Robert Zemeckis? Why the hell are they asking to see me?!"

I have no idea, but it should be an interesting experience...I haven't auditioned for a major motion picture like this in quite some time.

Oh, and I have punk rock blue hair right now, because I figured there wouldn't be any auditions until after the first of the year...uhh...oops.

The second shipmeent of 8x10s goes to the post office in about 30 minutes. If you ordered last week, you should get yours in a few days. I'll get to work on the third shipment (orders received since Thursday) when I get back from my audition this afternoon, and they should all go out tomorrow or Wednesday.

UPDATE 3:53 PM PST: Well, I totally punted the audition. The pain in my body from the weekend is so severe (my arm is so messed up I can't even grip my steering wheel in my car, and my back has been spasming all day long) that I just couldn't focus, at all, and I sucked.

Shit.

I saw the tests for the movie while I was there, and I'm pretty sure that I'm not allowed to talk about specifics, so I'll just say: this will be an amazing and beautiful movie. What I saw was a perfect 3-D rendering of the art in the book.

When I left, I walked down the hallway with my head hung. I'm really sad, not because I'm missing out on a job, but because this movie is just going to be so beautiful, and so amazing, I really wanted to be part of it.

One of my old spacesuits is being auctioned off on eBay. I'm not sure why, but it makes me feel a little sad.

I'm sitting here, about to write a little entry about it, when my phone rings. It's a friend of mine, asking me if I'm going to the Star Trek X screening.

"Yeah, on Wednesday," I tell him.

"No, it's tonight," he tells me.

"Tonight? At Paramount?"

"No, it's in Westwood, tonight," he tells me, "I just talked with Marina about it."

Oh no.

That feeling I have gotten so many times before, when I was the only cast member not asked up on stage at the 25th anniversary party, when I was the only cast member not recognized at the screening of "All Good Things..." begins to well up. I feel a little sick.

He wouldn't do this to me, right? Not now, not after the conversations we had when I was working on the movie, not since the phone call informing me of the cut. This must be a mistake. Past is the past, right? We're cool now. There is no way he'd exclude me from this.

But he did.

He did it to me again.

I want to cry.

I tell my friend that I have to go, and hang up the phone.

I sit there alone and cold in the kitchen. I can hear Ryan watching Sabrina The Teenage Witch in the living room.

I can't believe this is happening to me. When Rick told me that my scenes were cut, he assured me that I'd still be invited to the premiere, and that he'd see me there. I was excited to see all my friends again, and share in those moments with them. Be a part of what will really be the final mission.

It turns out that the screening I was invited to will be at Paramount on Wednesday, and pretty much anyone who works at Paramount can attend. It's not the premiere, and none of the cast are going. There's really nothing special about it.

I seriously, desperately hope that this was just an oversight. I desperately hope that this is totally out of Rick's hands, and that he'll tell me that he's sorry if it ever comes up. I desperately hope this isn't personal. I want so badly to believe that it isn't. It sucks to be overlooked, but it sucks less than if I'd been intentionally not invited.

It sure fits a pattern though, huh?

I just -- I don't know what to do. I don't even know how to feel anymore.

But I'll go with hurt for now.

Really, really fucking hurt.

Before I get to the good news, I just wanted to thank everyone who sent me kindness yesterday. While not getting invited really felt like a slap in the face, it is certainly not the end of the world, by any means.

Now I'll be seeing the movie for the first time with my friends, in a regular theatre, with a "real" audience, which will be cool.

The good news: a few months back, Chris DiBona approached me, and asked me if I'd be interested in joining the Board of Advisors for a new game company he was forming.

I said yes, and I've managed to be useful already, which is cool. Their first game is a MMORPG called Rekonstruction.

Anyhow, the press release went out today, and I thought I'd pimp it.

Late yesterday afternoon, Federal Express visited upon my house not the plague so many were hoping for, but the edited manuscript of my book!

That's right, my very cool, working-for-free-because-he's-a-great-guy editor, Andrew, finished up his notes, and I have the "red letter" version sitting right here on my desk.

Boy, are there a lot of red letters! I need to go back to college in a big way, and take a "Grammar for fscking idiots" class

Writing for the WWDN will probably be a little light for the next few days, while I focus on doing my rewrite.

OH! One last thing I forgot to mention:
Beware of hitchhiking ghosts!

Heh. Sorry.

Really, one last thing I forgot to mention:

Sitting amongst the messages in my Inbox yesterday, there was an e-mail from one of the fine editors at The Onion. In it, he told me that they've collected some of their favorite AV Club interviews, and put them together in a book called "Tenacity of the Cockcoach."

He asked me if I'd inform the WWDN readers about this book, because he thought it was the sort of thing you'd all like to read . . . and he'd really like to buy himself a new boat. (Well, he didn't say that last part, I just added it, but if you saw the e-mail, and read between the lines, you could tell.)

Putting on my best Don Corleone voice (no easy task in e-mail) I told him that I'd be happy to plug the book, if he'd do me a favor.

See, there's this old News In Brief story from a few years ago that I just love. As a matter of fact, I think it's the funniest one they've ever done. The sad thing is, I haven't been able to find it anywhere on their website, or in any of their books. I told him that if he could help me out, I'd be ever so grateful.

I pet my cat as I typed this, by the way, just to get the right mood.

Well, about 90 minutes later, I looked at my Inbox, and sitting there was the story which brought me so much laughter so many years ago. I read it, and giggled like one of those paint-huffing kids that you see on NOVA during the pledge drive.

Holding up my end of the bargain, I now proudly pimp to the world the latest and greatest from the brilliant staff at The Onion, Tenacity of the Cockroach!

Also, knowing that the world needs laughter, I present the story that I loved so much, hoping that my new best friends at The Onion don't sue me:

Shit Parking Ticket Fuck
FUCKIN’ DOWNTOWN—After stopping for like 10 goddamn minutes at the west-side post office, local resident Dave Shore got a motherfucking parking ticket in the amount of 35 fucking goddamn dollars Monday, fuck. Where were the goddamn cops when the dude stole the hubcaps off of Shore’s light brown 1992 Escort last year, the 27-year-old line cook would reportedly like to fucking know. The ticket, which Shore will have to work five whole fucking hours at his shitty fucking job just to pay, was placed on his vehicle by the asshole fucking Nazi parking patrol shortly after noon. Jesus fuck.

It's Sunday, and that means that it's time for a few links.

The best thing about today? It's just 3 days until Two Towers comes out. I don't know about the rest of you, but I started my countdown to Wednesday (well, midnight Tuesday, really) when the credits for Fellowship of the Ring were about half over. The Chicago Sun Times has a really nifty article about the making of TT, along with a swell synopsis of the story so far.

There's also a very interesting article in Time called "The Business of Star Trek," which may be of interest to WWDN readers.

This made me laugh really, really hard. I wish you would enjoy it.

If you want to see the blue hair, my lawn, and my dog, look here, but only for a few hours. Those pictures really suck up the bwf.

And now a couple of announcements:

I have completely run out of 8x10's (!) and there are about 30 requests that are officially "back ordered." What this means is, on Wednesday, I will pay the "please rush this so my orders can arrive in time for Xmas" fees at the lab, and fill those orders by Wednesday night. Back orders will go out by the end of the week, and should arrive in time for Christmas. This has been a great learning experience for me, and when my books are available, the process of filling those orders will be very easy. GNUCash is a GREAT tool for handling the bookkeeping involved with this silly little operation I've got going here. :)

Tomorrow, Anne and I are heading up to San Francisco, because I'm hosting The Screen Savers on TechTV on Tuesday. Guess what? I get to interview one of my biggest heroes, Michio Kaku, author of "Hyperspace," and "Visions," two books which profoundly changed the way I view the universe around us.

Happy Festivus, everyone.

I love that I can sit here in a hotel in San Francisco, scan for an open WAP, and update my website.

Now, if I can just have my damn flying car, the future will finally be here as promised.

So this is just a reminder that I'll be guest hosting Screen Savers on TechTV, tomorrow (Tuesday the 17th). I'm off to enjoy this amazing city with my wife.

UPDATE 12:09 PM 12.17.02: Attention Farkers: I will be wearing The Shirt.

That is all.

The plane lurches from side to side, then pitches violently forward. Strangely, nobody in the cabin screams. Anne grips my hand tightly, and I reassure her (and myself) that this turbulence will pass just as soon as we get over the storm.

Fifteen minutes later, after climbing through the first major winter storm we've had here in Southern California, an experience which can be compared to riding in a wagon over a deeply rutted and poorly maintained dirt road, or sitting on a raft in heavy seas, we break through the clouds and level off.

We're on our way to San Francisco, where I'll be co-hosting The Screen Savers.

From above, the clouds look soft and inviting, betraying no hint of the violence we've just passed through. We cruise in relatively smooth air for another 40 minutes, and finally land in Oakland. I'm not crazy about flying, and I'm always happy to be on the ground.

After a quick walk through the terminal, we meet up with Steve from Tech TV, who will drive us into the city. We step out into the gloomy December morning, into the Bay Area that I have always loved: cold, windy, cloud-covered. The heavy black clouds we've just flown through decide to get in one last assault, and dump a hard, cold downpour on us as we walk through the parking lot to the car.

The drive into the city is quick and uneventful, and as we cross the Bay Bridge, I recall the months I spent shooting Flubber on Treasure Island. Those were good times, and it's nice to revisit them in my mind for a few moments.

Steve drops us at our hotel, and tells us he'll be back at 6 to take us to dinner.

Anne and I walk through The City, finally ending up at Union Square. We head to the top of Macy's, so I can look out over the square and pretend that I'm in "The Conversation."

Back when Gene Roddenberry was alive, he talked about The Enterprise being a character in the show, and even being the "real" star of the show. I always wondered how something like a spaceship could have a personality, but standing here, on top of Macy's in the cold and rain, looking out at all these old and new buildings standing side by side, watching the throngs of holiday shoppers swarm across the square, past the giant Christmas tree, I get it. San Francisco is truly a wonderful city.

We meet Steve and his fiancee for dinner, which is quite lovely, and head back to our hotel, where we both have the worst night's sleep in years. The rain beats down on the window-mounted air conditioner, its steady plink-plink-plinking competing with the sputtering and hissing of the radiator. After two hours, I have come to truly hate this radiator, though it is the only source of warmth in the room. Anne is fighting a cold, so she tosses and turns the entire night on the too-small bed, and end up spending much of the night staring at the ceiling, cursing the radiator.

When morning comes, we have just enough time to grab a coffee and a muffin before I have to be at TechTV for a production meeting. I kiss Anne goodbye, remind her that if she goes shopping that we only have one small carry-on bag (a reminder she ignores), and hop into a cab.

I spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon preparing for the show, and having meetings with the execs at TechTV. I really like them, they really like me, maybe we'll work together someday.

Suddenly, the day is behind me, and it's time to tape the show. I run over my teleprompter bits, read over notes for the interview I'll be doing, and familiarize myself with the numbers for the different cameras, and the names for different parts of the set.

Everyone keeps asking me if I'm nervous. I am not, but this constant questioning makes me think that I should be nervous, so now I'm nervous because I wasn't nervous.

I don't want to let myself get all worked up, so I talk to the cast. Megan is funny and sweet, and calls me "dreamy." Patrick knows so much more about computers and technology than I ever will, and though I am totally intimidated by his knowledge, he puts me at ease the whole time I'm there. Morgen Webb is just too !@#$^&ing hot for words. And smart, and friendly. I blush a bit when I talk to her.

I get to finally meet Chris Pirillo, who I've talked to countless times in e-mail, but never actually seen in person. I instantly like him, and know that we could have fun hanging out together.

At 4PM, we start the show, and everything is going well, except for one small thing: the way the camera points, I can't read the left side of the teleprompter for the whole first segment. I manage to stumble through it, but I really feel like I'm sucking. But it's live, so I push through it, and hit a groove. The show is really, really fun. All the people are super nice (cast, crew, producers -- everyone is just awesome. Very different from other jobs I've recently had) and I'm just having fun. Though the show lasts 90 minutes, it seems much faster, and before I know it, we're done.

The audience is dismissed, and we gather with the producer to do a post-mortem on the show. This is my favorite part of any live show, whether it is radio or TV or theater. This is when we sit down together, talk about what we did well, and what we can do better. It's what sets the live experience completely apart from film or tape, this ability to constantly learn from day to day and move closer and closer to perfection.

The notes are given, but I won't recount them here. They belong to the people who made the show.

Anne and I say goodbye to everyone, and meet Loren and Kelly for coffee before we have to get to the airport.

Here's the thing: I really, really, really like Loren and Kelly, and I just hate it that they live so far away. There is a severe shortage of Good People in this world, and I wish that I could spend more time with these two. I take some comfort in the knowledge that Southwest can put us at each other's doors in under two hours for under 100 bucks.

Anne and I make it to the airport, check ourselves in, and grab a sandwich. It's been just over 24 hours, but now it feels much longer, and we're ready to go home and sleep in our own beds.

Our flight is called, and we travel home beneath a full moon, above a blanket of moonlit clouds. It is quick and turbulence-free, and by midnight, we're back in our own house.

While Anne gets ready for bed, I check my email, and there are nearly 50 messages waiting about Screen Savers, and every last one of them praises my performance on the show. I am really moved by the compliments, and feel very proud of a job well done.

I fall into bed, and sleep soundly, straight through the night.

I am currently drowning in Christmas shopping and driving around, and filling 8x10 orders (sent out about 40 yesterday, I hope the lab will have my prints ready tomorrow morning so I can get the rest of the orders out by Saturday.)

However, I have a moment to raise my head above water, draw a breath, and share the following:

1. Saw Two Towers last night. Loved it. Darker and scarier than Fellowship. I'll write up a full review when I have more time . . . in 2004.

2. Just found out that "The First Duty," which I think is one of Wesley's finest episodes (even if he *is* the Narc Of Nova Squadron) is on TNN tonight, at 8PM Eastern.

3. I have been totally overwhelmed with e-mails and comments from people who saw The Screen Savers. Thank you to those of you who took the time to let me know that you liked what I did. I had a blast, and I will go back any time they ask me.

4. I haven't seen Trek X yet, so I can't give it a review here. However, the emails I've gotten from people are pretty much split 50-50, love it and hate it. Based on the box office, I think it's a safe call to assume that the TNG movies really are finished.

I am ready for the "sitting around the fire with friends and family while drinking egg nog" part of Christmas to begin.

Are we there yet?

This massive Pacific Winter storm is bearing down on Southern California, threatening to turn our burn areas into giant rivers of mud and rocks. The wind is currently gusting outside my bedroom, pelting my window with rain.

All of this means that we here in Los Angeles are on STORM WATCH!

That's right, baby! STORM WATCH! Wall to wall coverage of brave citizens filling and stacking sandbags in their backyards, rugged individuals stubbornly refusing to leave their trailers under the threat of up to three inches of deadly rain!

As I write this, Anne is watching the CBS news, and Laura Diaz is urging everyone to stay warm, and for the love of god, if you travel over the Grapevine, take blankets and extra food and water!

Now, for my STORM WATCH! coverage, I much prefer the undisputed master of local news hyperbole, the inimitable Paul Moyer, who can turn the very threat of rain, still a week away, into the greatest drama since OJ's slow speed chase. But Anne will not be moved. The Channel 2 News Team, with the watchful eye of Chopper 2, will be taking us along on STORM WATCH! tonight.

This is the first night in weeks that I've been sitting in bed watching TV at 11. Until tonight, I've been sitting in front of the fireplace every night reading this amazing book, "The Best American Non-Required Reading of 2002." I give this book the strongest WWDN endorsement possible: the coveted and never-before-awarded GOLDEN MONKEY! The writers in this book are so amazing, and their stories so compelling, with the turning of each page I learned how far I have to go before I can call myself a writer.

Whenever I finish a book, I feel a sense of achievement, and I begin to look forward to the next one in my ever-growing stack. However, I also feel a certain sadness as I bid characters or an author farewell.

Thank god I have STORM WATCH! to ease the pain.

And Anne just rolled over and turned off her light. As soon as she dons the eye mask and ear plugs, I can grab the clicker and switch to NBC.

. . . *click*

D'OH! Paul Moyer is running down the Golden Globe nominations.

I'll keep watching, though, because when we're on STORM WATCH! the news can break at any time.

An 8x10 sale update!

The photo lab finished printing my order this morning, so all the 8x10s have been mailed out, except for about 6, for people who haven't told me what to sign on their pictures.

So if you've ordered, but you haven't sent me your request, get on it, man! :)

Anything going out after today clearly won't arrive in time for Christmas, but if you've been waiting to order, and it's not a gift, go ahead and do it. I have about 50 of each photo left after filling orders, and if those sell out, I'll order more in the new year.

I've gotten sick, it would seem, despite my best efforts to hold off the cold which is ravaging my family right now.

Since I'm feeling like crap, I'm putting off the last-minute shopping until REALLY the last minute, and I'm spending my time the last couple of days heavily editing my book.

I gotta tell you, I'm really excited, and getting nervous. Excited, because my editor, Andrew, has given me notes that fall into two categories: "Duh. I am so lame for missing that." and "Holy crap! This is such a great idea! I can't believe I didn't think of that on my own!" His notes have made the book much more readable, and clearer than it would have ever been if I'd done it all on my own.

Nervous, because as it gets closer and closer to being released to Real Life Readers, I worry that it just isn't good enough. This is normal, though, for me. It happens with everything creative that I do. I guess it's just my nature.

Back to work!

:)

We are under partly cloudy skies today here in Pasadena. All day long, the blue sky has been brilliant and beautiful. The few clouds that dot the sky are small and fluffy, blown at incredible speeds by the high altitude winds, and illuminated to a magnificently bright white by the sun.

About 20 minutes ago, the sun began to set, and I watched as it put silver linings behind cloud after cloud as it sank into the west. Shortly after the horizon took it away for another day, the sun did an amazing thing: it illuminated the only cloud in the sky, a monstrous one -- several thousand feet cross, at least -- which hung over my house. The cloud acted as a giant reflector, bouncing yellow, than orange, then red light down upon my neighborhood.

At first, the yellow light was beautiful, bringing out a brilliance in the lawns and leaves seldom seen in winter. Then, the orange light became a little creepy, casting the same muted color as sunlight filtered through the smoke of a brushfire.

When the light turned red, though, it was positively scary. The red glow that it washed over the Earth was straight out of the fires of Mount Doom.

As the light turned from orange to red, my mom called me, and asked me if it looked like the world was coming to an end over my house, too. I laughed, and told her that it did.

Then a Ring Wraith knocked on my door, and I politely hung up the phone.

Fark had a photoshop contest yesterday. The theme was to make a poster for the next Star Trek movie.

Currently leading the voting is the following poster, brilliantly designed by Reisende. Thanks, man!

The scent of balsam fir and spiced cider permeates every corner of our house.

Wrapping paper and ribbons, tags and tape litter the living room floor. Our cats chase bits of ribbon and bows, tearing around the floor like they are kittens again.

Ferris snores heavily by the fire.

We turn out all the lights, and stand together in front of the fireplace.

Candle and firelight play across our faces. The only other light in the house comes from the village atop the piano and the lights on our tree. We share a Christmas kiss, before settling our brains for a long Winter's nap.

Merry Christmas, everyone. May peace prevail on Earth.

On December 7th, my wife and I, with the help of some friends, put down about 3000 square feet of sod in our front yard. It was tough work, but worth every strained muscle and aching back: the yard looks beautiful.

In addition to representing lots of hard work, the lawn also represents a significant financial investment, so I am sort of manic about keeping it looking its best.

Because of this mania, I am ready to fucking kill the goddamn skunks who keep tearing up the edges of the grass each night.

However, I am a peace loving man, and I've chosen to refrain from planting AP mines at the corners of the yard. Instead, I bought a big old jug of red pepper flakes at Smart and Final (for 5 dollars, thank you very much), and spread them all over the perimeter of the lawn last night.

Here's the thing about red pepper flakes: even when you wash and dry your hands really well after you're done? The oil that makes them spicy is still on your hands. So when you absentmindedly scratch your chin, or rub your eye, or go to the bathroom, every single thing you touch will immediately burst into flames.

Every. Single. Thing.

Burns.

Oh, how it burns.

So when I got into bed last night, I felt like I'd spent a week in Bangkok.

But when I got up this morning, the burning had subsided, and my front yard was unmolested by the little stinky bastards.

Skunks- 5
Wil- 1

On Boxing Day, Tech TV ran a Call for Help marathon. Call For Help is hosted by my friend Chris. His wife, Gretchen, asked me if I would call in to the show and be part of the madness.

So I did.

I was reading my pal Tom Tomorrow's weblog this morning, and came across this:

"So Andrew Sullivan spent a week or so rattling the tip jar on his blog and apparently fattened his bank account by some eighty or ninety thousand dollars.

"And it kind of makes you do a double take, if you're keeping a blog, especially a blog with a substantial readership. Hey, you think, maybe I should start rattling the tip jar. Hell, why shouldn't I try to get paid for my work? (And, to be honest, you think: eighty thousand f**king dollars? Jesus F**king Christ on a crutch!)"

"So what if we take that impulse and channel it in such a way that we can actually make some small specific difference in the world? Something more important than fattening an online yuppie pundit's wallet?

"Specifically: there's a non-profit here in Brooklyn called Hearts & Homes for Homeless Dogs, which, as you might surmise, cares for and finds homes for abandoned and abused dogs. (Brooklynites have probably seen them out finding homes for their charges at Seventh Ave and First Street on the weekends, or at Court and Montague all week long.) If you've been reading this website regularly, you might already be familiar with the story of my own dog, the happy fellow in the photo below, who was abandoned as a puppy with scabies, and is alive today only by the grace of someone who cared enough to take him in and nurse him back to health. So the work they do at Hearts & Homes strikes a personal chord with me.

"Of course, since this is the internet, I'm sure I'll get email from someone saying, why a dog charity, when there are so many other problems in the world? Well, I'm starting with this particular charity--and I hope this is only a beginning--because I support the work they do, and more importantly, because they are facing an emergency situation, and they need help, right now:

'Unforeseeably, the shelter/home where Hearts and Home Inc. has worked from for the past 7 years has recently been sold. And now, they have only 2 short months to find adequate and affordable space—not easy in this economy! The costs of feeding and caring for an average of 21 dogs are staggering enough. But finding the funds to relocate everyone and everything could bankrupt Mel and Roseann, and they and their furry charges could wind up on the street.'

"So here's the deal: there are a lot of you out there reading this site, and a dollar probably doesn't mean much to most of you, one way or the other--but if every single one of you were to click here and donate a dollar or two to Hearts & Homes, then together, we could make an enormous, specific difference.

"So come on. Who's with me here?"

If you've read WWDN for a long time, you may remember that Anne Saved Ferris, so I am touched by this situation.

Here's my deal: I will donate the proceeds from the next ten 8x10s I sell. That's $350. So if you've been waiting to buy a photo, maybe now would be a good time to do that, and help out a needy cause at the same time.

Speaking of photos, I have a ton of orders here that I'm filling right now. I'll put a big old batch of them in the mail in the next couple of days.

The first thought in my head this morning was, "man, I have to pee!"

The second thought was, "where the hell did the year go?"

2002 was an amazing year for me. It was a year of discovery and a year of transformation. I am very grateful that I have been able to share this time with all the WWDN readers. You have all been an integral part of this year. Thank you for sharing it with me.

Happy New Year, everyone. Please be safe tonight. See you in 2003.