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M i l M a n i a The Official Newsletter of WWW.ARTISTINSANE.COM |
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Thanks for reading this issue of Mil Mania! And, remember, this is a work in progress, subject to many and varied changes — all adding up to a new and improved publication...so I hope! Please drop me a line to let me know what you think, including any and all suggestions. Thank you!!! |
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All Content Written By Mil Scott Unless Otherwise Noted © Mil Scott www.artistinsane.com |
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Welcome To The March/April |
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Volume 3, Issue 3, March /April 2007 |
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Music Mayhem |
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As noted in the December 2005 edition of Mil Mania, I continue to include news in every issue to keep readers up to date on the latest happenings with the three acts most prominently featured on www.artistinsane.com. However, I now also choose one additional artist — in some cases a new discovery I’ve recently made, in others an individual or group whose work I’ve long appreciated — to make a one-time appearance here. And, as with all aspects of Mil Mania, feel free to offer suggestions. This month’s featured arist: John Fratella — You prob- Introduced recently through another friend, I feel privileged to have met this vibrant, interesting and interested individual. And, having been further privileged to enjoy both his “tickling of the ivories” and lively conversation for several hours last night, I thought it wonderfully appropriate to today pass on the acquaintance. …………………….. Third Eye Blind recently kicked off its spring tour in hometown San Francisco (playing shows to commemorate the 10th anniversary of their debut album’s release, as announced in last month’s issue). To read more about these, and check out when they may be visiting a city near you, as always you can go to The Village Churchyard or Jen’s SJ.com. In the meantime you can read an article/brief interview with Stephan Jenkins by clicking the following link... http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/03/11/PKGLEOFQM21.DTL& While on the topic, I must confess I found a certain comment in the aforementioned piece a bit disconcerting, and perhaps a slight cause for alarm. “I think this album is going to be more political…” Stephan said, adding the contradictory statement, “but there’s nothing worse than a political song.” Actually, that last bit may prove the saving grace in my continued admiration for his work, since I couldn’t agree more. If indeed the finished product as a whole is comprised of largely political themes, however, for me no salvation may be possible. See the article under “Temporary Insanity” at right for a fuller explanation.
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Ravings of a Mad Woman |
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This column corresponds with the Mad Ra-vings On section of www.artistinsane.com, and is dedicated to selected reviews of movies, television and books… most of which are unlikely to represent “the latest” in any of these categories, but rather a random selection that represents a new and/or noteworthy discovery to me. ……………………….. In honor of St. Patrick’s Day as (one of) this issue’s special occasion(s), I thought I’d review the new Irish-themed television series... The Black Donnellys — A tale of four Irish brothers in New York’s Hell’s Kitchen, this crime drama is told in flashbacks by a member of their gang who is now in prison. How he got there or how much of what he shares may be the truth remains to be revealed...or not. For, secrets and lies are the central rules of existence in the Donnellys’ circle of dis-organized crime. And, what constitutes the truth in their world is likewise highly subjective. What’s concrete, however, is the bond of family they share...and the cement shoes for which one or all seem destined to be fitted before the end of any given episode. That potential outcome, of course, provides one impetus for watching. By the same token, however, if one didn’t quickly form a bond with the characters in danger, neither would one really care how their problems are resolved. In fact, I must say I’ve seen some shows/films so poorly written and acted that I’ve rooted for the “bad guys” to get it over with once and for all by putting the “good” ones out of my misery. Even in those instances, though, it’s seldom very difficult to figure out who the bad guys are. Part of this show’s “charm”, for lack of a better word, is derived instead from exploring just how far such clear delineations can be blurred...most notably in the character of eldest brother, Tommy (who uncannily manages to commit and cover-up murder yet exude a believable blend of integrity and innocence [via the superb acting of Jonathan Tucker] in the process). Tommy aspires only to a peaceful law-abiding life after art school, and, yes, maybe catching the brass ring of a longtime love — modest hopes ever threatened by the darker dreams and goals of his deeply gangster-tied siblings...not to mention the darker abilities and strengths he’d never wanted to learn might just lie within himself. Then again, once you meet the brothers’ loving yet tough-as-nails mom, you might glean a bit of insight as to where these conflicting sides of Tommy’s nature originate. Yes, it’s all been done before — and undoubtedly in a few ways could be done a little better. Still, I’d be lying — or, perhaps, I should say, “full of blarney” — myself if I didn’t admit I’ve come to look forward to spending an hour on the edge of my seat Monday nights... hoping fervently that the “good” bad guy will come out on top. — or at the very least, live to fight another day. Here’s to these brothers continuing to survive the truly mean streets of their New York — and the even meaner whims of the TV industry — for a very long time to come. |
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If you missed the announcement in the That said, on to this month’s question… Sound advice, I thought. But, the "Elvis" still had my curiosity. I asked how you got out of it. He said that you simply take a deep breath or two and stop looking at the ground. It's so much about focus, he said , that it (focus) will get you to where you want to be. What's your take on this view, Keela? Have you ever gotten to a place you wanted to be but then froze, in fear – or delight? Have you ever had the "Elvis" take hold and not know how to "shake it"? Or maybe you have taken your next steps a little carelessly and unexpectedly stumbled, tripped over your tail on the way? What would you offer on how to move on to the next place you want to be? Honestly, I don’t think there are very many minutes in a rat’s life that he or she isn’t aware of the endless scary possibilities that might “come next”…although indeed the ways in which we each “take [these] on” sometimes differ greatly. I’ve already shared last month about my own tendency to squeal “Eee!” and “Let me GO!” in what I perceived to be a precarious situation. However, I think it “go”es without saying that kind of reaction may indicate I do know a little about getting into an “Elvis”. The need for concentrated focus to get out of it, though… well, “there’s the rub” as they say. Thankfully, in my – uh, shaky situation – I had a very patient adoptive mom and dad to help me…as I did at the only other time to even come close, which was when I had my babies a few weeks later. Of course, taking care of fifteen kids all at the same time might be considered an “Elvis”-inspiring situation all its own. But, again I had a fair bit of help…including wonderfully relaxing visits to the couch to re-charge my batteries. That said, I’ve got to admit I’ve chewed on this question even longer and harder than last month’s…which has made me even hungrier – and what’s worse, this time around I can’t even find a single way to relate the topic to my favorite subject – food!!! To tell you the truth, the bulk of my life has been pretty much “Elvis”-free. But, to answer your question with something a bit more enlightened than “Not really” or “I don’t know” I’ve tried to think of situations involving relatives or friends I might be aware of who have gone through more difficult times. And, of course, the one with the very most experience in this area would have to be the late, great Molly. I mean, what could possibly be a more textbook “Elvis” predicament than being caught alone and pregnant under a mailbox in a March snowstorm??? I can only imagine how hard it had to be to still her own shaking legs (which were surely shivering from just plain cold in addition to fear)…not to mention the focus it took to do what was needed when the opportunity arose. Expert climber over adversity that she proved herself to be, she found the courage to make an ascent that would carry her off her own treacherous mountain…even though she couldn’t possibly have known exactly where it would lead her at the time. If you look at what our stories have in common to try and find some solid ground of madvice to land on from them, you’ve probably noticed that this is in the concepts surrender and trust (which, interestingly, apply as well to Mrs. Frisby when she had to trust Jeremy the crow to get out of her own “Elvis” riding upon his back!) Although we both had to use focus to see us through what we thought our best (only!) courses of action, the outcome of those actions lay with forces beyond our control. We had no way to know what future awaited us in the hands of our new mom and dad, but something told us (Molly more clearly than me, needless to say, since she never squealed AT ALL, if you can imagine!) if we just let them give us “a hand up” things would be fine. And, I think that’s what hu-men and hu-women need to consider when running into their own “Elvis”es...provided, of course, they’ve exercised a little good sense and preparation along the way. Based on the research mom helped me do on the internet prior to answering this question, I know rock climbers buy and test all kinds of equipment and practice their sport so they know how to ascend and descend slippery slopes in the first place. So, when they do experience an “Elvis” they generally have everything they need to get out of it (pretty literally) at their fingertips. The only thing getting in the way is themselves...again something I do know a little more about than I’m proud to admit Molly, by contrast, never got in her own way. According to what mom and dad said about finding her it doesn’t even seem she showed any fear at all. That said, I think the madvice from her situation is the most in keeping with what your rock climber friend told you, and the most valuable lesson to learn and share. No matter how far down, hard or scary the ground below appears, always remember your salvation is found in focusing somewhere else…indeed a place that might just prove “divine”... Look up. KEELA |
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Molly Madvises (now by Molly’s neighbor Keela) |
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Comments from Mil Mania readers |
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In A Nutshell |
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Writings From The Asylum |
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“I can't let the topic of Prince go by without chiming in (as my heart flutters at the thought of him, I confess!). Purple Rain — what a pivotal album/film for Prince and an all around musical phenomenon. Thanks for bringing this classic to light last month. I'm always fascinated by the impact Purple Rain made in peoples' lives. Always makes a great conversation -- as does the artist himself. The critics can pan him, praise him, be misinformed in their chidings while thinking otherwise, but, simply, the man is brilliant. The last time I saw him live he did an audience sing-a-long with a couple verses of "Cream" (Diamonds & Pearls): "Make the rules," he sang, and asked for it rebounded from us, then sang "then break 'em all cuz you are the best," again asking for the line back. To Prince's standards, it was a feeble attempt on our part. So he told us to go home, look in the mirror and sing that --because we are the best, he said. He's pretty alright too!” . |
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I doubt it’s surprising that a writer would enjoy used bookstores, sales of retired books at the local library, etc. Of course, I invariably end up with more titles than I could ever hope to read — especially by the time the next opportunity to buy more rolls around! In those I actually get to crack the covers, however, I’ve found many bits of interesting information that stay with me from that time on, and which sometimes even help me provide a coherent explanation for things I’ve already long intuitively believed. And, such discoveries naturally find a way into my own writing at some point down the road. Having thrown down the gauntlet of my distaste for artists waxing political in this month’s “Music Mayhem” section, I mention my used book fetish as I once purchased a volume called The Portable World Bible. Offering selected excerpts of each religion’s holy scriptures, the book also features a very thorough yet concise overview to preface the various sections. And, it was through this book that I came to formulate what I believe a most appropriate analogy regarding politics and art. I have long contended that I strongly believe art to be a spiritual force. One’s artistic gifts, while expressions of the individual artist’s intellect, feelings, and certain other “tangible intangibles”, if you will, are nonetheless just that: inexplicable gifts we feel a burning need to create, a means I have often contended of giving love...and which once shared, can reach the deepest recesses of other beings in equally inexplicable — and yet real — ways. And, their produce — music, paintings, sculpture, or anything else — when they affect the beholder, do so in unmistakably deep and personal ways. In the process, they have the capacity to effect change...in the way we see ourselves and the world around us...and in the way we treat and interact with others. Back to the Portable World Bible, among the religions discussed therein are Taoism and Confucianism...the most notable distinction between which, this book noted, is their differing approaches to achieving spiritual maturity: Taoism — like art — is based on change from the inside out. If one changes how a person thinks, what he believes, his understanding of life, etc., his outward behavior will change as a result...ultimately leading to a unity of body and spirit, and a mature productive life/contributions to society. Confucianism, by contrast, is based on a highly ordered system of rituals and their repetition...the thinking behind which being that change must be effected from the outside in: if a person consistently acts in a certain way, he will come to incorporate that way into his “self”, again thereby attaining a unity of body and spirit, and a mature productive life. One end; very different means. Hence we arrive at my take on the difference between art and politics. In its elemental form, government too seeks to achieve change for the betterment of society. Its manner of doing so, however, is to implement various systems of laws to alter individual actions — in other words, causing change from the outside in. And, despite — or perhaps even because of — the very like ends both art and politics look to attain, I see them as somewhat akin to same-charge magnets: two forces that were never intended to be successfully joined. I find it an interesting tangential circumstance that churches are officially prohibited from endorsing any candidate — in fact facing loss of their non-profit status for becoming too politically involved. Frankly, I don’ think it would be a bad idea for artists who jump on their campaign soapboxes to be somehow penalized as well. Unfortunately, it’s instead the members of their fanbases who suffer. Notice I haven’t attached any side or party to that assertion. Lest one might think I’m making it out of some personal grudge against specific comments in support of someone I dislike or opposed to someone I do, that’s not the case. I’m an equal opportunity disdainer of all political artists (and/or entertainers, actors, etc...essentially ANY public figure [other than the politicians themselves and official news media personnel] who attempt to influence their following, however, large or small). Lets’ face it; the artists using their stage to influence their audiences are receiving the very same information (ad nauseam, if desired) via TV, radio, newspapers and internet as the audiences themselves. But, when they start interpreting that information for these audiences via political messages, creative or otherwise, the message they’re really sending is that the audiences are obviously not intelligent enough to interpret the information for themselves. Regarding this I offer some very sage words of Rod Serling, “Whenever you write, whatever you write, never make the mistake of assuming the audience is any less intelligent than you are. " Given there are indeed numerous fans of “political art”, apparently these particular audiences don’t take offense at blatant insults to their intelligence. I do. |
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Temporary Insanity |
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“If a man could have half of his wishes, he would double his troubles.” “As we must account for every idle word, so we must account for every idle silence.” "If you wish to be remembered even after Benjamin Franklin |
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Well, it’s been a hard Be that as it may, there’s also much to write about — and so many changes and updates to what’s already been written that May’s issue may have to be the longest yet just to keep up. For starters, the hope expressed in the “Ravings of a Mad Woman” review have already been dashed since that piece was composed — But all of that is for next month. This issue might be said to contain “enough trouble of its own”...as Keela wrestles with “Elvis”, novel hero Josh wrestles with “Demons, Drink, etc…” and the “Black Donellys” battle for turf in Hell’s Kitchen one more time. Read on to learn more. And, of course —Happy Spring!!! Mil |
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Newsletter Spotlight |
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As introduced in the first issue of Mil Mania, this column presents the latest chapter in the “prequel” to my screenplay, Taking the Fall. While the script picks up four years after the suicide of the main character (Joshua Gray)’s girlfriend, the novel begins with that act itself, and the portion shared here continues to document events taking place in the weeks after the funeral…(you can catch up on prior chapters by viewing back issues on the Mil Mania Sign-up page). |
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The Leap to Limbo (tentative title), Chapter 14 “Demons, Drink and Dreams of Deliverance” ………………………………………… Josh is seated at the bar of a tavern two doors down from the hotel. Still stung from the talk with — or lecture from — Chris, he downs the double Jack Daniels in front of him, thinking humorlessly how nice it is to have a totally unrelated reason for the cacophony of confusion in his head and ceaseless ringing in his ears. Uninterested at the moment in either the intent or content of Chris’s speech, he gulps down his drink, sucking in his breath sharply as the liquor burns a fiery trail to his stomach and tears begin to ooze unwittingly in response. He shakes his head and squeezes the fingers of one hand against his eyes. After a moment his body’s revolt against the alcohol subsides and he removes his hand, trying to focus on his surroundings as he does so. Gradually, he becomes aware of a woman seated near the opposite end of the bar, who he realizes has witnessed this whole scene and is now watching with an expression Josh can’t quite decide leans more toward pity or amusement — neither of which he finds particularly flattering, though both understandable. He frowns...more at himself than her; briefly embarrassed by her own impertinence she blushes slightly and turns away. Something in this movement registers with Josh as oddly familiar and it becomes his turn to stare as he attempts to will his increasingly dulled mind to focus on this new and elusive ghost. As she steals a glance once more in his direction and finds his eyes still on her she smiles gently, an expression that prompts a flash of clarity and the memory of another encounter with burning liquid — in L.A. “You were there. And you’re here,” she responds with a slight grin, her tone surprisingly non-sarcastic in its jest. Pressing on with the dogged insistence peculiar to a “drunk “he continues, Still smiling, she replies, “Does that mean you’d rather I remember you with coffee all over your pants than a bit of egg on your face?” Muddled more by her kindness than the alcohol, Josh hesitates. Suddenly he blurts, “Why do you talk to me?”, then claps a hand to his forehead and rolls his eyes. “Another brilliant statement. Sorry…” “Why does anybody talk to anybody...at least at first?” she responds frankly...then adds after a pause, “Actually, the first time was because I saw you...I heard you — your ‘Secrets’…” His brain spins; he feels fear rising as a list of implications ticks off in his brain. She continues. “Your song… ‘Secrets’ — remember. You debuted it that night. It was honest…moving. It was...” a smile creeping in again, “...brilliant.” Overcome by her words, Josh looks at the floor and feels the sting of tears once more. How could anyone see brilliance in him? Oh sure, history had recorded countless tales of artistic genius wrought at the hands of insane minds and dissipated lives. But he was no Van Gogh, Modigliani or Mozart. And he knew it. He’d never pretended to be anyone other than a guy with a guitar and a headful of ideas….and yeah, sometimes a heavy heart...who used songs to say the things he maybe should — or shouldn’t — or couldn’t, say “out loud”. But, this was no romantic fairy tale of immortal greatness that made up for a short ‘real’ life. Like Woody Allen said, “I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying.” Yeah, he was definitely more realistic than to take it quite that far, but standing here before this strangely encouraging familiar stranger how he wished he could just feel normal again….just go back to being the guy with a guitar he used to know...the one fighting with his bandmates and fellow musician friends for the chance to make a life at what he loved. Not losing sight of what that might even mean — while fighing with his bandmates and fellow musician friends at every chance — with nothing whatsoever to gain...and a lot to lose. Josh reached blindly to hug the woman beside him only to find her gone….another ghost vanished in the night...another being to whom his attachment had yet again proved nothing more than a figment of his own (overactive?) imagination. He opened his eyes to see but the darkness of the hotel room and feel the thin linen bed sheet clutched within his palms. He let go, buried his head in the pillow, and cried. |
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Happy (belated)
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AND, of course… Happy Easter!!! |
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(What One Might Call) A Pet Peeves and Paranoia Random Rant |
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I actually wrote this for inclusion in a Christmas card to the people it introduces...who (thankfully!) enjoyed its intended humor immensely. As I had a bit of space left in this publication and wanted to share something on the lighter side to follow the more serious “rant” above, I thought I’d include it here. Hope you enjoy it, too! A couple winters ago my husband, Andre, and I embarked on a road trip throughout the Midwest that included re-connecting with several friends and relatives we hadn’t seen in many, many years – or in some cases, hadn’t ever met at all. Among these was Andre’s Uncle George, his cousin, Walter and cousin-in-law, Joan. And, in the course of that instinctive search for common ground that goes with making new acquaintances it was learned early in the visit that Cousin Walter and I share a common interest in writing – an interest in Cousin Walter’s case he’s turned into the modestly profitable enterprise of a syndicated column. And, of course, given our common ink-driven pursuits, I was subsequently added to the mailing list of this weekly publication. |
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