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M i l M a n i a The Official Newsletter of WWW.ARTISTINSANE.COM |
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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 August |
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Volume 3, Issue 7, August 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 artist: Roxette — Like most …………………….. Third Eye Blind has wrapped up their summer tour and as fans await news of that ever elusive next album, they’ve been given something a little different to look forward to in the meantime. As per a recent announcement from The Village Churchyard a Third Eye Blind tribute album by various artists is scheduled for a November release.
Michael McDermott is the subject of a host of news this month. Not only does the new album…
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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. ……………………….. The Devil Wears Prada — Although this film features several almost unbearably silly moments (particularly early on) it ultimately surprises by addressing some interesting questions with regard to honoring commitments, balancing home life with the work place and what constitutes losing oneself in the process of negotiating the tangled maze of these complex issues. Recent Northwestern graduate and aspiring journalist Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) accepts a job at New York City’s glamorous “Runway” magazine on the promise that a year there will guarantee her a spot at any writing job she cares to subsequently land. Learning very quickly that this year is going to consist of 365 extremely unpleasant days in service to nightmare boss Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), she approaches her position as something to simply endure...merely a “job that pays the rent”. Of course, as we see her clinking glasses with her friends in a toast to this viewpoint, we already know her mere “job” is about to become much more. Just what this more consists of, however, is not at all what she expected, nor anything she wants — at first. But when her outward appearance begins to change in a bold move to prove her determination, seemingly more subtle inner changes spurred on by this same determination begin as well. Finally, though, the growing volume of her wardrobe is matched only by the growing volume of time spent away from both her boyfriend (played by Adrien Grenier) and the self she used to know, leaving the beautifully together person she sees in the mirror to ultimately deal with all in her life that’s coming apart. Backing up to all that came before it, though, I think the film presents a very challenging case that having committed to a situation it really is a sign of strong character to honor that commitment. And, one can’t help wondering how each of us watching would react if placed in similar circumstances. After all, the problem basically lies in having unknowingly accepted commitments that require diametrically opposed actions, and the inevitable dilemma of serving two masters — in this case professional and personal lives and the people who inhabit them. Of course, at last one is forced to evaluate just how much the choices one makes along the way prove the road to hell truly is paved with good intentions—or if those choices force one to admit they were all made in service to oneself. Finally, it’s only left to be determined what one wants from that point on...and I’ll leave it to you who haven’t yet seen this film to find out what Andy decides. I’ll also leave it to you to decide what the one aspect of her final choice I disagree with says about me. With matters on the inside once more firmly in proper perspective, I’d be a liar not to admit... I’d have kept the clothes. |
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If you missed the announcement in the E-mail your “Molly Madvises” questions to mil@ artistinsane.com and I’ll pass them on to Keela. Thanks! That said, on to this month’s question… Dear Keela, Dear Wondering, This is such a hard question that I’ve been chewing on it for three whole days now — and still don’t have a complete answer. What I do have, though, is teeth so worn down from its toughness I’m going to have to eat soft foods until they grow back to normal. Thankfully, being a rat, that happens pretty fast — and besides, I can probably talk Mom and Dad into giving me lots of treats like whipped cream in the meantime...mmmm….but I’ve scampered off the topic already, haven’t I? The thing is, in the case of the hu-man you described, I think the answers are all found in your last question...and that at the same time the answer is “inexplicable” in part because “it’s secret”. In other words, maybe he really and truly doesn’t know what it is he wants. I’m sure he would say he doesn’t want to be homeless, and (not even) making a living selling things on the street of a neighborhood that’s apparently causing even my ratlatives be become homeless in its current state of change. At the same time, though, maybe he knows you were right in saying that he does know what he wants and just can’t find the courage to believe in it enough to go scurry after it. Maybe he doesn’t even know where to start scurrying in the first place, or who to ask for help. After all, it sounds like he’s a very rat-ist-ic kind of hu-man (wait — art? istic — I always mix that up because of that thing my mom and I have both talked about before — rat and art being made up of the same letters…). Anyway, from what I understand any creative pursuit is an especially hard way for a hu-person to make a living...look at Linguini in Ratatouille — he needed to let Remy help him because it was so hard to be accepted in the competitive ratmosphere of that fancy restaurant. (That, plus the fact he couldn’t cook and Remy could, but it would still have been very difficult to prove himself because the non-ratistic head of the place didn’t care about art or creativity to begin with…). The thing is, even this would-be handbag designer you speak of has learned that it’s easier to be a business-person in some form than an artist. And, maybe he can deal with being homeless because he doesn’t see himself as a very good business-hu-man, but if he really does believe he’s a good artist and couldn’t make a living at that, maybe he would believe the lie of so many in the world that he was “worthless”. And, that’s a subject I know a lot about all because some hu-person back in the beginning of time spread the lie that me and my ratlatives are worthless and a lot of people all over the world still believe just that. But that’s where the wrecking balls you speak of, too, come in. Sometimes we do need a wrecking ball of sorts to knock us out of our accustomed surroundings and open us to the greater possibilities beyond. But, you know from how much I screamed “E!” and “Let Me GO!” when the wrecking ball first came into my world that change for anyone is scary. And, so is finding the courage to make an effort to deal with that change, survive it and start living a new life. Maybe hardest of all, though, is surrendering to those who might help us through these changes…trusting the kindness of strangers and one’s instinct to “believe” in one’s “into-wishin” when such hu-people come along. If I’d stayed in the “old neighborhood” of the pet shop where I came from I know now I’d have faced a whole different kind of “wrecking” — and I definitely wouldn’t be sitting here in the comfort of my happy home with my wonderful sisters and kids and adoptive parents talking to you. And, I know now, too, that’s what I wanted all along — even though I didn’t know it right away. I hope that answers your question, and I hope this hu-man really does find what he wants. As for me, right now (like pretty much always) I want something (kinda mushy) to eat! 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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“So what do we make of happenings like your hearing "The Last to Know" at such an unexpected moment like it was? I had an exact same experience last year. I had been thinking about the Wings' song "With A Little Luck," really wanting to hear it, not knowing where I had stored ,or if I still even had, the vinyl disc. A couple of days later, there I was browsing the grocery store's salad dressing section, and what seeps in through the speakers? That song does not get a lot of airplay (the station that I listen to at least) . How wild, I thought. Just makes me believe L.P.
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With birthdays mentioned prominently in this month’s Music Mayhem section, I was reminded of this poem I wrote on my own birthday a couple years back. As it’s been on my website for a while now, some of you who’ve visited there may already be familiar with it. If so, I apologize for the redundancy. Coming Of Age I’ve heard age called just a number, But I don’t believe that’s true. ‘Cause I think it’s lots of numbers... They add up to me and you. 4/19, 12/8, 10/12 - numbers, Birthdays of some friends... Special numbers we invest in -- High returns yielded by them. 31, a favorite baseball player, In basketball ‘twas 8; Number 18 — football champ... Strength of heart’s what makes each great I woke up age 15 the day My dad’s number was called. By its end I’d passed his 42; Subtraction makes time stall... Number 1, my academic rank In high school -- made Mom proud... Now just comfort for embarrassment; Lifts that “God, how stupid” cloud. Perhaps we are just numbers, Ones that do reveal our age. But not our age’s number, Rather what fills each life’s page... Courage, through discovery of our Heritage and pride; Mileage on our journey, Private moments locked inside... Rites of passage we’ve survived, Damage inflicted and felt; Encouraged and discouraged By the highs and lows we’re dealt. So many ages all add up To one life, don't forget -- Nor that zero is the greatest If it numbers our regrets. |
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Literary Lunacy |
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“...an early discipline any artist learns [is that] you don't get taken with the colors of paints that you've got. You've got to narrow it down. It's great to have all the possibilities, but it all starts with an idea. To sit there and hope something will happen is like dumping 400 gallons of paint on the floor and hoping a picture is going to emerge. It doesn't work |
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Okay, so maybe tech- 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 16, “Almost Home” ………………………………………… Saturday night found Josh onstage yet again, this time back in San Francisco, playing a full out rock set for a typically rowdy weekend crowd. Tomorrow he, Chris, their bands – and, of course, Chris’s small rodent friend, Henderson, would complete the final leg of their return to L.A. After all the drama, trauma and just plain pushing through that had characterized these last 8 days, it somehow seemed fitting to now be standing in this place frozen in time as the epicenter of victory mingled with defeat. After all, things were finally going well again; aside from a couple lingering bruises and a bit of other physical evidence still gracing his left forearm, Josh felt like himself again – or at least the self he’d been alternately losing and getting to know ever since he’d last stood on this stage what now seemed like aeons in the past. He and Tommy hadn’t run into any further conflicts since “the incident”, and the band had pulled together to once more hum like a well-oiled machine. Only the eerie prickling of déjà vu and fear of history repeating kept the mood of the group, and Josh in particular, from feeling fully rejuvenated, and slightly dulled the creeping anticipation of potentially good things ahead. The set was winding down with a song they’d been working on just this week on the road to document their troubled journey of late. Called “Band of Brothers In Arms” it was a tune they all felt very much in tune with as it proved once again the therapeutic potential of their collaborative efforts. Chris’s band had gone on first tonight, and as soon as Josh’s finished up and the audience began to disperse, he and the others swarmed the stage to clear out their equipment and head back to the hotel. Chris shrugged. “Ah, we’ve been kind of playing phone tag all week. I don’t know where that’s going exactly.” Busy with loading out, the two held no further conversation and soon Josh returned to his own thoughts. And the closer he came to having to stay once more in a San Francisco hotel the more his good mood began to fade and the aforementioned associations with his prior experience in that area both too long ago and yet not long enough began to resurface. As they tossed the last pieces of equipment into the van and closed the doors, Josh surprised the group with a proposition. A general moan rippled among the group. “It’s already 1AM,” Matt observed. “And it’s been a long week. I’ve gotta admit I was kinda looking forward to hitting the sack.” “Look, I’ll drive,” Josh offered. “It’s only a five hour trip. You guys can sleep the whole way if you want.” “And you’re a vampire now or what?” Randy asked. “You’ve been up for like a hundred hours straight, and now you want to drive all night.” Looking around at the group he continued, “Come on, somebody help me out here.” Randy looked skyward and let out a dramatic sigh. It was Tommy who broke the deadlock. “I’m cool with leaving,” he said slowly, looking steadily at Josh. Turning to Randy, he asked brusquely., “Haven’t you seen enough hotel rooms for one week?” Having tangled with Tommy too many times before, Randy just frowned and turned away. Finally he found his voice again and muttered, “Yeah, okay, whatever.” An hour later they had collected Henderson and their luggage from the hotel and Josh guided the van southward on Rte. 5, fully aware that the tiny bit of sanity he’d hung onto by avoiding a return to “the scene of the crime” represented only the smallest of triumphs. But he was beginning at last to realize it was stringing just such tiny wins together that would add up to his survival. And, as he drove on in the darkness, finally he could feel himself heading toward some light. |
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In Memory of… Flannery and Noonan… ...who passed on 8/14 & 8/16/07 “They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in death they were not divided.“ 2nd Samuel 1:23 |
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Temporary Insanity |
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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!!! |
