Thursday, November 5, 2009

The March of the Triumphant Snail

Next weekend, I am heading to San Francisco. Why? Because I managed to win Best Comedy for the Sonoma State level of Campus MovieFest, which is the biggest student film festival in the US (maybe the world too, I don't know). But, I am heading to the Western Regional Finale in San Fran to go against what I am assuming to be HILARIOUS films and I am beyond nervous about it. But I very proud of what I managed to do with my five minutes of film so I wanted to show it off. Chances are that the readers of this blog have already seen it, but still, I'd like to get it out there for the masses. So, here it is: THE MARCH OF THE TRIUMPHANT SNAIL


Monday, November 2, 2009

Quick Teddys



The Secret Origin of Teddy the Bear


So, I as I posted my last post, I was in the middle of writing an article for my school paper, The Sonoma State Star. That article was about the history of "Teddy the Bear" and how I had evolved during the 18 years I've been drawing. It's really what caused the last post to be done, so I felt like posting to it. Without further ado, here is "The Secret Origin of Teddy the Bear"



There are things that we are embarrassed by. The stereotypical example is the guy in high school who plays football, but really likes theater and doesn’t want his friends to know. We all have that part of us that we keep to ourselves, not because we want to keep it private or that it is wrong or illegal, but because we fear that it will negatively alter the way our friends and family view us because we are the only ones who truly understand it. For me, that’s “Teddy the Bear.”

Recently, my friend put my embarrassment into perspective for me. She thought that I was being too protective of myself, not letting people in. Being the guy who is very outgoing and even being willing to describe my life in the print of the newspaper, I thought she was off base. But later that day, I was hanging out while the final touches were being done for issue eight of the Star, and something happened. A colored picture of Teddy is my computer background and one of the editors commented on how she had never seen a colored drawing of Teddy. I suddenly became shy and sort of nodded, made a small joke, logged off and just changed the subject.

On paper, it’s hard to not be a tad bit embarrassed by what I do. I am a 23-year-old guy who derives great pleasure from drawing cartoon bears. But it is truly what I love to do. I have risked failing classes because I would rather doodle a Teddy comic than listen to the professor discuss the upcoming mid-term.

When I am unsure of what I want to do with my life, I think of this quote from Howard Thurman: “Don’t ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who are alive.”

During high school, I lost sight of this. For four years, four years that could’ve been spent getting better and honing my craft, I put down my pen and put down my love. I let my desire to grow up and look cool to girls and my friends distract me from my love. Throughout my whole life, I had been known as the kid who draws, but now I was someone else. Even coming to Sonoma State, I hadn’t actively drawn Teddy since freshmen year of high school. While I wasn’t exactly unhappy during this time, I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t allowing myself to come alive.

I’ve been drawing since I was five. This is the fourth iteration of “Teddy the Bear.” Over the years, Teddy has changed in look and mannerisms and format. The first was a combination of Archie comics and the “Peanuts” strip. It was just a group of bears who lived in a town and hung out. It was my life as played out by a cast of bigheaded bears.

As I grew up, Teddy did as well.

No longer did I have characters with names like Bobo and Blinky. I’ve been able to flesh out my ideas and find my voice and a cast to fit that.

Teddy’s best friend is the spikey-haired guy. His name is Bert Johnson and is a carryover of my junior-high attempt to copy “Garfield” called “Leonard P. Dog.” He has always been the voice of reason.

The female girl is named Charlie, and she and Bert are eventually going to be an item. She is new to the strip, and so is Teddy’s balding father, Wayne Bear, who is named after my dad. The female bear is the only other constant in the lifetime of “Teddy the Bear.” Her name is Luann and her and Teddy are soul mates. She was created because I was in love with a girl through out all of elementary school and that little part of me that remains the six year old and remembers seeing that girl for the first time is what fuels Teddy’s love for Luann. The bear with the eye patch is aptly named “Patches” and is from a failed strip called “Radicals.” He is the villain of the story, but is as evil as Will Ferrell impression of George W. Bush. His human friend, the guy with the goatee and the bowl cut is Clark Dark and has the same design as a character from my clone of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

Teddy started off as being ten years old, just finding out about girls, and now I do see him as having the mentality of a 20-something college student, mocking the crazy world that he is in. Teddy is me-and for a long while, I was embarrassed by him. But that is no longer who I am, I’m not embarrassed anymore. I own that piece of myself too much.

At the core of this strip is the sum total of my creative life. Every step of my life is reflected in this strip and I wonder what I would be if I had continued to deny that part of myself. To deny the small pieces of our selves is to actively choose to be incomplete. If I hadn’t brought Teddy back into my life, would I not be the Trevor Reece I was meant to be? What use is a person who refuses to come alive?

There is something within us that is the sum total of us all. It could be a collection of video games. It could be a couple of hairbrushes or even a ticket to an embarrassing concert. But we hold onto them because even in the darkest moments of our life, we can reach out to these things and remember exactly who we are.

I just draw funny pictures, but this is what brings me to life. I had forgotten that for a while and in the process, lost a part of myself. But Teddy was there to bring it back.

 

Friday, October 30, 2009

Reclaiming the Fire






At this point in my life, I seem to be circling back to what I love. For a long while, close to about five years or so through high school and starting into college, I didn't draw. For reasons I somewhat understand, my life just took me away from my love of drawing. I still remained creative and still pursued other avenues of my life, but I didn't draw and I lost something in the process. I wasn't entirely myself and I am saddened that I lost that time. I fear what my life would've been had I not kept going and been creative in other facets of my life. Had I not gone to writing and film and eventually into improv and attempting play-writing. I found this old blog post from my Myspace account and felt that it was a good way to start off the process of re-claiming my identity. Without further ado, here is an old blog post from Myspace (dated June 3, 2006)

For the past two and a half years, I have been making films regularly and for the past year I have made it my career goal. My whole life, I have been creative and this is how is the history of my creativity.
     It started with the adventures Tweety, a stuffed Tweety doll whom was my best friend for most of second grade. He was the beginning of my obsession with being creative. I picked up a ton of books about animation and started on my way to becoming an animator. I couldn't really draw, but that didn't stop me. I just drew all of the time. I eventually made a small series of books about Tweety and the adventures him and all of the other Looney Tunes got into. One of the supporting characters was my other stuffed animal, my bear Teddy (the same bear featured in "Light Conversation"), who eventually took over my drawing focus. I spent hours with Teddy and his gang. To most people, they were just doodles on my homework. Big headed bears with little bodies that took up my time. Hardly anyone outside of my family knows how vast of a universe I made with them (and they only think I just had a lot of characters). But it was an actual world for me. I knew the relationships of all of the characters. Teddy, of course, was the main character. His best friend was Daniel, or as he was known, Duncey. Duncey always had a hat on and that started out as a Dunce cap only. Duncey's twin sister was named Luann and she was the love of Teddy's life. I have never said this, by she was based on the at the time love of my life, Justine Heston. Then there was Blinky, the brain and his brother Bobo, the jock. Then, the nemesis was found in Leon and his gang (whose names escape me). Then there was Downer and his brother Eerie and then Charlie, who was Teddy's cousin. And in another section was Teddy's brother Johny, who had an imaginary friend, Rex who worked for an imaginary friends corporation (complete with a Perry White/JJJ hard-ass boss) Nobody has any idea how many false starts I had on what was to be their epic "Teddy's Adventure", a road trip epic that had Duncey fall in love and his love die because she fell off of a cliff (because there has to be drama) and Teddy finally revealing his love to Luann and getting her. It would've been awesome. 
    The only creation to rival Teddy in time spent was The Dumb Snowman. What started off as a dumb story (pun intended) about a snow man who kept getting destroyed (which I loved to illustrate), became a franchise with four total books and eventually became my first cross-over with the Handsome Cherry, a character created for a writing contest in sixth grade. The cast of The Dumb Snowman was crazy (not to be confused with the Crazy Snowman). It was as follows: The Dumb Sonwman, The Normal Snowman, The Dumber Snowman, The Dumbest Snowman, The Scary Snowman, The Mental Snowman, The Smart Snowman, and The Cool Snowman (who no one liked). They even had an awesome van that they drove around in. 
    Around sixth grade (the year that led to a bear building and I got to make the yearly felt poster that was a tradtion in that class. On it: a big headed bear as the focus), I discovered one of my idols, Charles Schultz. That is when I knew what I would be: a cartoonist. I would make comic strips for a living and it would be awesome. I also discovered my all-time favorite strip, Calvin and Hobbes (if you have never read Calvin and Hobbes, stop now and go get it). I dove into comic strips and got tons of books on it. This led to multiple creations. The most notable is Leonard the Dog (or Leonard P. Dog). A slight rip-off of Garfield (maybe more with Get Fuzzy now), but it involved a dog and his owner and a bunch of Leonard's brothers and Wesley, the dwarf bear who the meet when he is holding a sign saying: Will Work for Pants (which he gets and wears for the rest of the strip).It also had my favorite name of a character, Coupon. I just liked it. Then there was Crossed Wires, a science comic strip and my other favorite: The Radicals, whose ideas I am slowly using in movies. It was about a group of freedom fighters fighting an slightly evil but highly eccentric mastermind, Patches (he had an eye patch). 
    And finally we have the period that is still kinda with me, comics. The greatest of American exports (when done right), comic books are so cool. Call me a nerd, call me dumb, but comic books can be as powerful as a no pics book any day of the week. But I discovered comic books my eighth grade year, when the book store, Jj Perry's was closing and everything, including comic books. I snatched up a ridiculous amount of books from there and ate them up. My focus went into writing comics. Not good ones, but it got me going. I poured hours into not studying into just thinking up all kinds of crazy ideas and it was fantastic.
    When I am editing a video, I am still creating. A lot of people think that the way a film is made is writing a script and filming it, then you piece it together. Nope, the way a film is made is in editing. That is when everyting comes into place. It doesn't matter what you have written and what is filmed, when you edit a film is when you bring it to life and there is hardly any work out there more exciting then bring film to life. To see an idea surpass what is in your head in real life is what of the most satisfying feeling you can feel and with film, I am constantly able to do that where I failed with all my other outlets. I was born to be creative and have found my oultlet to do it and I got an award to prove it.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Love...Naked by Trevor Reece



" "
Photo by
 1+1=1
Accessed at www.flickr.com


The light of the sun is what wakes me. Its not dawn, but the sun is finally coming up over the hills, which would place the time at around half past 7 in the morning. We didn’t get to sleep until six. I’m not normally a morning person, even on 8+ hours, so this is especially hard to fathom.

And yet suddenly, I don’t care. There she is.

As cliché or non-poetic as this may sound, it feels like a movie. I can’t recall a time in which I have had feelings for the girl I’ve slept with. That’s not to say that I’m not attracted or felt the small butterflies of love when I talk to the girls, but I always know, even if it is faintly in the back of my mind, that it is not going anywhere. But that has never been the case with Justine.

We’ve known each other for a while now. I’ll be honest; I fell for her instantly. We were at Big Pop’s, this local, piece of shit 24 hour restaurant with a couple of friends. She was new to the group, but there was something about her that made it feel like she had been there the whole time. Because of how fast I fell, I had to make a move. But also because of how hard I fell, I only wanted to be sweet.

You see, I have a reputation of being a bit of a ladies man. I don’t get every lady I see, but I try to hook up with every lady I see. It usually involves my wit and charm, which come and go at various times. But now I wanted to act like I was in Junior High:

Do you like Charlie?
__ Yes
__ No
__ Maybe (you always add the “Maybe” because she really likes you if she checks it)

So, I did what any 23-year-old guy would do: I shot a spit wad at her. A beautiful shot, I might add, right between the eyes. At first, she was completely taken aback, locking eyes with me as if I had just insulted her war hero grandfather. But then she grinned like The Joker before his plan is hatched and fired back. She hit me in the eye and it hurt like a bitch. But that didn’t stop the fight. I fired back and like a magic bullet, it managed to end up her nose. Our group collective lost their shit at this one and we were linked from that moment on.

I didn’t want the usual things with Justine. I wanted to brush back the loose strands of hair that got in her eye. I wanted to stay in that perpetual drum roll before the kiss, just to hear her breathe.

But I also experienced something I hadn’t in a long time: actual butterflies. I would nearly piss myself anytime I got a text from her and found myself smiling ear to ear with every little thing she said. My roommate commented on my weird smiling habits, but I didn’t take the time to explain the situation. I left my love life to myself.

There was only one problem with the situation. She only seemed to view me as a friend. Try as I might to get her to notice me, she just seemed to just want to be friends. We went to dinner several times, but split the check. We went to the movies, but she paid for her ticket and bag of Skittles (which she said she always needed for her movie watching experiences). We watched TV for hours on end at her place, but there was no hanky-panky. It was like I was the gay friend whenever I tried to make a physical move on her. She would treat me like her brother if I put my arm around her. But she let me in so deep.

The night I had just woken up from was not the first time we had stayed up til the early morning. The first month of our friendship, we basically knew everything there was to know about each other. I let her in on my secret obsession with The Beach Boys, how I regretted not seeing my grandma before she died, my hatred of mayonnaise, how I always wanted to be a painter for a living and how I love Christmas lights more than my father. She let me know that she wanted to go to Israel, why she wears plaid so much, what happened to her father, why she loves Bob Newhart and what her perfect pizza would be.

But despite all of this, we remained friends. She went on dates (which I never told her secretly drove me insane) and I still met girls at parties. I imagine that they were all Justine and that led to some awkward name swapping a few nights. My sexual desires had shifted. I only wanted her and any other girl was a terrible substitute. Then last night happened.

It was my friend Chuck’s birthday and if there was a person who threw one hell of a party, it was Thomas Chuckstein, Chuck for short. It was a crazy experience. The music, a mix of the shit that is on the Top 40 lists and Chuck’s favorite, Led Zeppelin, was deafening. My theory was that Chuck was encouraging alcohol and drug use because being intoxicated is the only way to be able to handle Lady Gaga and “Kashmir” playing back-to-back. I was there with Justine, mixing drinks for the both of us, having stolen a bottle of vodka and some grape soda from the fridge.

We were in our usual groove of talking about our days as well as commenting on what was going on around us. But after about fifteen minutes and two shots of this ritual, the scene changed because the perfect mixture of slut and hot walked in the door in the form of Amy Arkley. My eyes were fixed on her. Despite how many guys she had been said to have been with, she was still considered the Holy Grail for most guys, a slutty prize to be won.

I found an excuse to leave Justine, knowing that I wasn’t going to be getting any action from her, and went to Amy. We had a class together last semester and had talked at length after class a few times. That’s usually all I need to get something going. We did a shot of tequila and I picked my hand slowly rising up her hourglass frame. Her skin was glass, perfect and without blemish, a great addition to the belt notches.

If I had looked at Justine, I would’ve seen her the most pissed she has ever been. Lucky for me, Justine is a woman of action. Just before we went for shot number 2, Justine grabbed my glass and downed the tequila like it was a cure for cancer. She then kissed me softly and pulled back just slightly and said “If you want to make me jealous, please don’t use skanks to prove your point.”

I thanked Amy for the lovely talk and Justine and I went to claim Chuck’s room for the night.

We didn’t even make out that night. All of our kisses were tender and had purpose. They were delicate and precise. There was no ounce of hormone in either of us, no foreplay to be had. It wasn’t about the act, it was about what it represented. Justine had told me that she was a virgin and that she would only sleep with someone she was in love with. I knew that and knew what this meant. She didn’t need to say it, nor did she ask of it from me. We were just there. There was nothing outside of our two bodies and we treated existence in the same way.

I had never held a naked body before that night. She was my first.

When I woke in the morning, she only had her underwear on. She was topless and I only felt love for her. She was beautiful and that was only driven home in the light of the new day.

I don’t know what will become of us. I just know that it feels like I’ve come home when I am with her.

I finally spoke up. She was a little startled, but smiled sweetly at me. This is the start of something new. But for now, I just wanted some breakfast. Justine felt the same way.

Gone by Trevor Reece



"HURTIN'"
Photo by
 joewig
Accessed
at www.flickr.com

Never like this....

The darkness peering inside my soul. He is out there and I am the failed dam.

The burden, taken up in crisis. I am impotent against evil.

Unsung, without honor.

Punishment is fitting, poetic justice. As the madness takes them all, I am (was?) the watcher, silent against atrocities. Alone in my viewing.

Mind fading into new identity. The weight of the world sliding away, a phantom's charge is now the wind.

I am you now. Faceless, unknowing of the light. We will turn to dust together.

I make my final wish to God. I used to know his face, but now I distant, alone.

"Make it right," escapes my lips as strength susides. This is the end.

Cardboard in hand, adorned in ink. A scribbled plea. My new mission is here.

I just want a dollar and bottle of Jack.

Bliss is mine once again.



Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Willing Slave by Trevor Reece


"Redemption"
Photo by zemotion
Accessed at www.flickr.com


Like a wave
She seduces me
Curves calling to me
As they delicately cling to the fabric
Bated breath is in
A perfect sync
With the slithering of her cold body
My dark goddess
A ray of black in the sea of light
She has a hold of my soul
Can One be a willing slave?
Heart beat skips like a rock
Her fingers crackle as they move
A feather in the breeze
And I smell death
My beautiful ballerina
My precious prize
Who knows her as well as I?
Grasping at me tighter
Tasting the ruby from her lips
The forbidden is suculent tonight
But she pulls back
She alludes me as her dark eyes grow wide
Truth is in her grasp
As she dances, my slave
Dancing for her life
I will long for her
Eternally
Thus I keep her
Eternally
Like the chains on her ankle
Aging to dust am I
Fading beauty before my queen
Knowledge fades and I am safe
Her eyes roll back again
The dance continues on.

Monday, October 5, 2009

33 by Trevor Reece


"Blueberries and Yogurt"
Photo by
kaycatt*
Accessed at
www.flickr.com

So, I write for this blog called "1,000 Words." The premise is that every week, we'll put up a picture of something of interest from Flickr.com and we'll write about whatever story the picture inspires us to write. My friends, Dave Gerhard and Mike DiGrande, and I came up with the idea after seeing Neil Gaiman in San Francisco a few months back. The story of this event is also on the Teddy the Bear blog (with pretty pictures too). This site has been kept up by Mike, with contribution from Dave and myself as well as a few of our friends. It is a great creative outlet and I would encourage people to look into it. I've fallen back from posting on it and missed a few weeks, but there are some stories that I've written that I am a fan of, if only because of how personal they are or just that they are funny. I'm gonna use Teddy the Bear (and other shenanigans) to make up for not writing that week and post my writings here. So, this is called "33" and it is from the picture shown above. All instances in which real life is mirrored in this story are completely intentional.


33, 34, 35…

I’ve begun to count the blueberries every time she said the word “lonely.”

I’m up to 35. I still haven’t said a word to her.

“I’m sorry that it happened this way,” she says almost convincingly. “I was just so lonely that I needed you around.”

The best part about being dumped in a public place is, if your heart isn’t ripping apart at the seams, you can really savor the awkwardness of the whole situation, just as I was planning on savoring the vanilla yogurt in front of me. I have never seen blueberries look so good in yogurt. Both the situation and the yogurt look delicious.

This person, in my case Elly, has decided that she was going to break up with me because it wasn’t working for her. So she decided to meet in a public place to lie out this life-altering situation, which is for her protection from me voicing my opinions with using the volume and diction I would prefer to use. Breaking up in a public place is the definition of self-interest.

Normally, I wouldn’t give a fuck about the patrons. While its not their fault that she came up with this plan, everyone knows that pain of heartbreak and excuses normally rude behavior. But I have an ace in the hole. I know why she is breaking up with me.

Thanks to Kyla, another ex-girlfriend (but that is different story all together), I’ve known for about two weeks now. I’ve known about her fucking Brad and all that and how they were going to be dating soon. All that garbage was old news at this point. Elly and I had talked about it a few days ago and she denied it, but I trust Kyla. There is something about the first girl who lets you see her boobs that builds trust.

And that brings us to why it is a good thing that I know. I can control the situation. I don’t need to say a goddamn word because I have all the information. And so I can really savor the yogurt that was sitting right in front of me. It’s a plain vanilla, but the blueberries look like they were going to be the perfect compliment. It also helps that I punch a hole in my apartment wall when I found out the news that she was going to break up with me.

“I just need some time apart. I need to remember who I am outside of a relationship.”

Bullshit. We’ve been together three months. I take my first bite. Oh Lord, thank you for blessing me with this yogurt.

“I don’t want to string you along and make you think you’re in something you’re not.”

A one-sided relationship? In the middle of unrequited feelings? Sister, being in the middle of that has been old hat since the second grade. God, I want to fuck this yogurt.

“I just need to see what is out there for me, but that means breaking up with you and that hurts me so much.”

I almost spurt out some venom, but it seems such an unkind thing to do in the presence of this yogurt.

She sits in silence, waiting for my reaction to this shocking news of our imminent demise, but I let her suffer in not knowing how I feel. I remain silent as well and slowly crush a blueberry’s juices out between my teeth. I don’t trust my acting ability to pretend to be saddened by all this, but I am focusing all of my energies on enjoying the yogurt. I begin to position myself as if to talk, knowing that she has been waiting to hear how I am taking the news. She needs validation that she is a good person.

That isn’t going to come from me. I open my mouth, as if to speak, only to pick up a napkin and clean off some of the yogurt. I bring the spoon to my mouth and enjoy another bite. She sighs. “Would you please stop eating the yogurt and talk to me? I need to know how you feel and you are just not even present in this. You are paying more attention to the yogurt than you are me.”

There is one bite left. I scoop it up and stare her straight in the eyes. “This yogurt wasn’t fucking Brad.” I lick it clean and walk out. Nobody disrespects a dessert that delicious. Especially some skank.


Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Dr. Manhattan (or: how I learned to stop worrying and hate “Watchmen”)

watchmen2

The movie “Watchmen” came out yesterday and I can’t say that I am going to be buying it.

On paper, it looks like the perfect fit for a comic book fan. The director is Zack Snyder, who did the successful “300″ a few years back, which was based on the graphic novel of the same name by Frank Miller. The actors are all top notch. The visuals look like they were drawn to perfection by the original artist, Dave Gibbons. And Malin Ackerman is so pretty. But it fails. It fails so brilliantly. Like I’ve said, I am not the most hardcore of comic book fans. I know people who can tell you how many panels there are that feature the Smiley Face logo. I know people who are so devoted to the source material, they refuse to see the movie. I don’t land in either of those camps, or at least I didn’t when I bought my ticket for the midnight showing back in March. I was beyond excited. I watched the Muse-dubbed trailer several times in anticipation, but while I don’t know if I admitted it to myself at the time, I could see the mirage starting to crack even there. The first hint was pointed out to my by Newsweek. The trailer called Snyder “visionary.” That is a title for someone like George Lucas or Stanley Kubrick or Quentin Tarantino. Not someone who has only had two films under his belt, both of which are re-makes/adaptations of some a classic zombie movie and a historically dubious graphic novel (’Dawn of the Dead” and “300″ respectively). I could go on and on about the instant legend mindset of today, where anyone who has a $100 million dollar hit movie becomes our generation’s John Hughes/John Ford/John Huston, but I feel that tangent is necessary except needless to say that Snyder does not fit in with any of those Johns.

My big hang-up with “Watchmen” the movie is that it completely disregards the whole importance of “Watchmen” the comic book. What makes the comic book so special in the hearts of readers is that nothing like it had been done before. The book was released in 1986 at the dawn of the “Bronze Age” of comic books, or rather at the end of the “Silver Age.” To make a short example of what these terms mean, imagine every thing you know about comics. The bright colors, the heroic, unnatural dialogue, the bizarre death-traps that the hero gets out of at the nick of time, the entire lack of actual danger or real suspense. Now add all of that into the campy 1960s Adam West “Batman” show and you have the “Silver Age” of comics that went through the 1960s and 70s. When “Watchmen” started, nothing like it had really been published in the mainstream and it really opened up what comics could do following the decline of “Silver Age”-type story lines. It was truly revolutionary (here is where I am plugging this book). Now look at “Watchmen” the movie and see that everything on that screen has been seen before. Dark heroes (“Batman Begin/The Dark Knight,” “Spawn”), comic book period-piece (“The Shadow,” “The Rocketeer”), a team of superheroes (The “X-Men” films), ultra violence (The “Blade” films, “Sin City,” “300”), all that is on the screen has been done before in either comic book movies or movies in general. The only thing that hasn’t been done before is, to borrow from the analysis done by Geoff Boucher of the Los Angeles Times, an “oddly off-putting Owl Ship sex scene and, of course, the unforgettable glowing blue penis.”

When I saw “Watchmen,” I almost walked out. The only thing that stopped me was that I had gotten a ride and didn’t like the thought of sitting in the lobby by myself. But the ending just completely ruined it for me.

(STOP READING IF YOU DO NOT WANT THE ENDING RUINED FOR YOU. I’M ABOUT TO NERD OUT)

It is about the failings of man, that’s the whole story. The original ending is about a third party threat, a fake alien dreamt up to wipe-out New York by the villain, Ozymandias. This unknown alien threat brings the impending nuclear war to a halt and returns the world to sanity. The movie’s end, with the reveal of Dr. Manhattan being the source of the destruction, would not have brought the world to peace. Dr. Manhattan is shown through out the film to be an American. He was on the American frontline in Vietnam and is on the American government’s payroll. If an American government worker blew up a foreign building, don’t you think there would be repercussions to the United States? And the beauty of all of this is that in the original, everyone just accepts it (except the black-and-white world view of Rorschach). There is no secret vendettas or slug fights, just a quiet, cowardly acceptance, a complete reversal of the heroic nature of the comic book super heroes that came before. That is completely lost in the movie and why it ultimately fails.

“Watchmen” the film is an clear example of the continued misinformed views of comic books as it turned one of the greatest examples of a comic book into an average popcorn flick (at best). Even with amazing comic book films out there (the new Batman series springs to mind immediately), there still exist those who box in what a comic book film can do or what it should do. This is a medium that is older than television and yet it can only muster the likes of Zack Snyder to represent it.

So please, do yourself a favor. If you find yourself holding thirty bucks, staring at a copy of the “Watchmen” DVD, just put the money into your pocket and save it until you can get a copy of the paperback version of “Watchmen.” It’s worth the money.

watchmen1

Photos courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures

Neil Gaiman, BAMF

Forget Harry Potter. As the rest of the world is focusing on the boy who lived, I spent my Sunday focused on another Brit, comic book legend Neil Gaiman, who made a special appearance at Comix Experience in San Francisco.

I had been at my comic book store, The Comic Book Box in Rohnert Park, when all of a sudden, the owner, Kathy Bottarini, very nonchalantly informed me that Neil Gaiman was going to be in San Francisco in about a week.

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For a comic book reader, this can be one of the biggest deals. Gaiman has been on the scene since the 80s, when his seminal comic work, “The Sandman” hitting the stands in 1989. “The Sandman” and his work in other books have firmly established Gaiman as one of the top writers in the business, on par with legend Alan Moore. I have been somewhat of a fan since 10th grade, when my English teacher, Mr. P, opened my eyes to this book. I have since reawakened my love of Gaiman by introducing my friends to his work. In a smart move, the Sonoma State Library has all ten of the “Sandman” trade paperbacks.

When I heard about this appearance, I got a huge nerd rush, but that was almost immediately crushed as Kathy informed me that there would only be 100 people let in. I was certain that there was no way that I was going to get in. But, either as an act of faith or my hidden love of being immensely let down, I asked for the web info on the event from Kathy. I followed up and called the store, asking, in vain as I was assumed it would be, if there were more spots available. To my great shock, there were “plenty.” I silently celebrated. The ticket was pre-ordering the most recent Gaiman collection “Whatever Happened to the Caper Crusader?,” which is about the recent death/disappearance of Bruce Wayne aka Batman. Even though I already had the single issues of this story, this is Neil Gaiman we’re talking about. I could deal with owning two copies. I also informed two of my friends of Gaiman making his way to San Francisco and they too had garnered admission.

The night before going was like the night before Christmas. Since I had also managed to get my boss at the Press Democrat to let me cover this, I was all sorts of nervous. I placed all the things I would need (wallet, id, audio recorder, index cards for notes, several pencils, and a note reminding me to get batteries for the audio recorder) on the table with the utmost care. I paced my apartment several times, obsessively looking anything I may have missed (notice how that list did not include camera). But I calmed down and eventually went to sleep.

After traversing the epic hills of San Francisco, I arrived at Comix Experience and was 29th in line. I would’ve been 28, but my friend Mike DiGrande hopped in front of me when he showed up. Since I still got to meet Gaiman, I don’t hold it against him. The wait in line, wasn’t too bad. Almost immediately, I got to talking to the guy next to me. I jumped into the conversation he was having about Todd McFarlane that just turned into bad-mouthing Todd McFarlane’s work and morally questionable actions. What followed was about an hour of discussing Gaiman, Batman, and comics in general. We almost missed our first glimpse of Gaiman, who calmly walked passed the growing line as if he were walking to get some grapes at the market next-door. I had to double-take and ask Mike if that actually was Neil Gaiman.

We were let into the store and before Gaiman was even out, I was in heaven as I usually am with comic book stores. I began to think of what I would be buying. The owner, Brian Hibbs, quickly established himself as a nice guy in my mind. He had been pacing the line to make sure everyone knew what was going on and he had been really receptive of me when I had asked about covering it for the Press Democrat. He even had a small amount of coffee and donuts for everyone. He welcomed Gaiman out to the applause of the 100 people now crammed in the store.

I immediately thought “Neil Gaiman is so cool.” On top of my idolization of him, he just had this air of confidence about him. Even surrounded by people who knew far more about him than he knew about them, Gaiman commanded the room with his calm, almost indifferent British voice. He explained his history with the store that involved Hibbs “demanding” Gaiman sign in his store in 1989 and Hibbs furthering his image as a nice guy by giving potentially valuable comic books for free because he cared more about the comics than the money.

After being in the industry for as long as he has, Gaiman joked that he had still not figured out how to read a comic aloud, so he did a half hour reading of the new book, “Who Killed Amanda Palmer?” that features pictures his girlfriend, Amanda Palmer of The Dresden Dolls, in various scenes of death. Gaiman contributed pieces of prose and poetry to the book.

The first was a contemporary retelling of an old fairy tale inspired by a photo of the dead Amanda Palmer with jewels flowing from her open mouth. The story featured Gaiman’s odd expository prose that was only punctuated by the way Gaiman read it. He followed it up with a short poem of a man eating dinner every night with the corpse of his love sitting on the other side of the table. The eyelids of the love have had eye painted on them, to give the appearance of life. “I painted the eyes on myself,” Gaiman stated. The next piece was a love letter to a 1950s Palmer who committed suicide in a gas oven. Gaiman also read story of a man and woman who floated around the world while the man wrote his novel on an old typewriter. The man and woman begin to argue and the man drops the typewriter over the edge of the balloon. When it descends to the earth, it killed Amanda Palmer. He finished with the opening piece that reveals the massive culture that has been built around Palmer’s death. She has become Elvis, but to such a higher degree. Children wrote rhymes about her, killing her with the last line. There are sub-cultures of Amanda Palmer. Amanda Palmer drag queens roam the streets. But it doesn’t change the fact that Amanda Palmer is dead.

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Following the reading, we were led back out while the store was put back together. We were also informed that Gaiman would only sign two things, three if you were one of the lucky few who bought a copy of “Who Killed Amanda Palmer?” I was not one of the lucky few, but as we got closer to being let back in for the signing, I had a wonderful idea. I took one of my index cards and folded it in half and drew on one side, effectively turning it into a home-made copy of “Who Killed Amanda Palmer?” When I had Gaiman sign my two things (My copy of “Caped Crusader” for me and an index card for my friend, Kelli), I also asked if he would sign my copy of “Amanda Palmer.” Without a moment’s hesitation and the laughs of the staff around us, he politely obliged, giving me three copies of his signature.

I can count the amount of famous people I’ve met. A few comic artists, Joel McHale a few months back, and I saw Danny Glover at a Giants game (which has another story to it). But none compare to Gaiman. On top of being so unbelievably talented, he is just the nicest guy around. And for someone who has written some dark stuff, he seems so filled with light. Neil Gaiman is just an all-around good guy and if you get the chance, I highly recommend seeing him at a signing or a reading. But remember one thing: it was not he who killed Amanda Palmer.

Photos are courtesy of Michael DiGrande

New Blog, Old Stuff

So, I now have a second blog that will hopefully be around for a while. It's called Four Colors and it is about comic books and it is hosted by the PressDemocrat.com. So I now have a legit blog on a legit site. Not to say that I don't care about this blog (even though I haven't posted in a while), but any Tom, Dick or Jane can have a blogspot account. Not true with the PressDemocrat.com (although, it was far too easy to convince them that a comic book themed blog would be a good idea). Anyway, to the loyal six readers of this blog, I will not leave you behind. I will continue to post about Teddy, mostly because this is the only space for him until I drop Teddy into the laps of the PD. But that is a another plan for another time. So, I will be posting from the new blog onto here or you can start checking it out by following this link

http://fourcolors.blogs.pressdemocrat.com/

Good times are on the horizon

Saturday, April 25, 2009

In need of a hero


FACT #1: Spider-Man is my favorite super hero.
FACT#2: I hate the administration of Sonoma State University.

That's about all you need to know going into this article.


With Sonoma State in the state it is, with problems ranging from economic issues to the ever present problem of campus diversity, do we need a trouble-maker like Spider-Man stalking our campus? The answer, in this person’s opinion, is a resounding “NO!” Spider-Man is no hero; Spider-Man is a menace!

We need a real hero, someone who doesn’t have to wear a mask to make an impact. People like President Rueben Armiñana, who spends every day making an impact at this university. We don’t need people running around, subverting authority. We don’t need people going around trying to help people, asking for nothing in return. Nor do we need people who act in a ways that point out the flaws in this institution, trying to show the hypocrisy of people in charge. Those kinds of people cannot be called heroes. They are deviants, rebels. They disrupt systems and what good is a system if it is being disrupted by these kinds of people? A system cannot be used if it is being disrupted and people like Spider-Man know this.

What we need are the heroes who are already in place, chosen by the institution to represent the student body. People who tirelessly work for the student body during their 9 to 5, Monday through Friday work week. We don’t need someone like Spider-Man making a mockery of the standard work day by always being around, always being a menace no matter what time it is during the day (or even at night). If students are already spending hours upon hours outside of class to get their work done, how can we expect the people in power to do the same?

There is a phrase I have heard. “With great power comes great responsibility.” In this time of economic hardship, we need people who understand what that means, who make the hard choices for budget cuts and are rewarded for their efforts with raises. We need to remember that we are in a country that rewards excellence. Thankfully we have an administration that honors the very system this country was built on. They have used their great power to enact great change it is the responsibility of the university to reward these brave souls. The administration holds the power while the rest of the university holds the great responsibility. Spider-Man is destroying this system. This “hero” attempts to take all the responsibility as well as all the power that comes with it. That is just selfish. If the people in power take all the responsibility, there will none left for the students who have no power.

And this Spider-Man is creating a terrible example for the students. He is teaching them to take matters into their own hands and go against the grain. That is being a vigilante. This is not what students should be learning. They should be learning from books. They should be learning from teachers. They should be learning for the administration. What better examples are there? Students need to learn that in order to make a difference, you need to be put into a place where you can affect the lives of many by bettering your situation at the expense of others. That is the message the administration is giving these students and it is a fine one.

In conclusion, the example of Spider-Man needs to be taken away from the students. He is brainwashing them into fighting things that don’t need to be fought. Why would anyone fight anything in this school? Classes are still being offered so who cares that there is less of them. The general education classes cover longer periods of time meaning that they are teaching students more. So what if fees are being increased? If one pays more for something, that makes it more valuable and what is more valuable than an education. Less services offered leads to less confusion on where students need to go. Unit caps mean classes are more abundant for students to choose from and gives the upper classmen a chance to be more generous to the lower classmen.

People like the menace Spider-Man spit in the face of this. At this time, Sonoma State doesn’t need people who are hurtful to the student body, people who show no regard or care to the needs and concerns of students. There is no need for people in power to shirk their responsibilities and continue to pass blame. Thankfully, this school does not have anyone like that because they are not what is needed. What Sonoma State needs right now is a hero.

The Batman is Dead; Long Live Batman

Gonna try something a little different. As some may know, I am a writer for my school paper, The Star. Usually, I will write about some happening on campus, but this week, I got the opportunity to write about Batman and the current mini-series "Battle for the Cowl". Now, I love comics, so this was awesome and easy to do and also figured that this could be a good forum to post it at. So, here is my article:

Bruce Wayne is dead. In a recent story line called “Final Crisis,” the hero was killed in an epic battle between good and evil, leaving his friends and his city, Gotham, alone and in need of a new Batman. That is the premise of the current mini-series “Battle for the Cowl,” written and drawn by Tony Daniels.

Recently, Batman has found a new wave of popularity in the past year with the release of “The Dark Knight.” The legend of Batman/Bruce Wayne has returned to popular conscience, a tale as old as the medium of comics: Young Bruce Wayne was born into an idyllic world, with loving parents and a golden spoon in his mouth. But all that came crashing down, as one night while coming home from the movies, Bruce’s parents are killed in a robbery. The event causes him to train his mind and body and he becomes the protector of Gotham City, Batman. Over the years, Bruce Wayne’s life has been hard. His back has been broken. He has gone through three Robins, his kid sidekick. The second Robin, Jason Todd, was killed, only to come back to life as a psychopath killer. His other crime fighting partner, Batgirl, was crippled by the Joker. And now he has gone down in the line of duty, but just because Bruce Wayne has died, does not mean that Gotham City does not need a protector.

The three people who are vying for the cowl are the three Robins. Jason Todd, the psycho, is the first to take the mantle, but he also brings a pair of guns with him, throwing out the idea that Batman doesn’t kill. Tim Drake, the current Robin, also dons the mantle to take down Todd which ends with less than stellar results. While this goes on, Dick Grayson, the original Robin, has to figure out if he wants to remain the man that he has become, the one who fought hard to be his own man outside of the shadow of Batman or don the cowl and take over for his fallen mentor. But the looming question over the whole thing is: Who could possibly take over for Bruce Wayne? For 70 years, Bruce Wayne has been Batman. He has evolved from a pulp avenger to a symbol of the will of man. Bruce Wayne can stand up to Superman and not back down. He has fought gods with nothing but his own strength. Who could possibly fill those shoes?

The structure of the “Battle for the Cowl” is compact. The main story line is a mere three issues, but the story of everyone involved is much bigger. There are also two more three issue mini-series, one starring Barbara Gordon, the paralyzed former Batgirl and the other stars Azrael, a religious vigilante who takes protecting Gotham as a holy crusade. There are also seven single issue stories that focus on all the major protectors of Gotham, from Police Commissioner Jim Gordon to Man-Bat, an actual bat man to reporter/Bruce Wayne love interest Vicki Vale. As Gotham crumbles and the Robins fight for the cowl, it is these people who are the ones that have to hold it together in the city. These are the people who the fight the fight alongside of Batman.

As this story line goes on, Batman is given a hero’s funeral in a separate two part story called “Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?” written by acclaimed writer Neil Gaiman, with pencils by Andy Kubert. The title is a reference to a classic 1980s Superman story “Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?” by Alan Moore and Curt Swan and serves the same purpose. “Man of Tomorrow?” was viewed as the last Superman story and “Caped Crusader?” is the same thing: the last story of Bruce Wayne as Batman.

The story has a simple premise. Batman has died and a funeral is being held in his honor. Over the course of the story, all the major characters in Bruce’s life are mentioned or appear or even perform a eulogy. It is in the eulogies that the purpose of the story is seen. “Caped Crusader?” is a deconstruction and analysis of the life and importance of Bruce Wayne/Batman. All of the eulogies are about events that never happened, but may as well have. They show the character of what kind of man Bruce was. During Bruce’s butler Alfred’s eulogy, Bruce asks “Do you think [Batman would] give up? That he’d lie down and die?” Alfred responds “No, sir. I do not believe the Batman would EVER lie down and die.” To his dying day, Batman was a committed fighter for what was right and would never surrender. When Superman speaks, he tells of a fabricated time where the villains had teamed-up in Gotham and had turned the city against Batman. Superman tried to convince Batman to not go back, as they would kill him. Batman responded “Well, while they are trying to kill me, they aren’t going to be killing innocents.” That sums up the man Bruce Wayne was. He was still that boy whose parents died and he would do everything in his power to make sure that what happened to him would never happen to anyone else.

But his fight is over…for now. In comics, death has never been permanent. Characters that have been dead for decades have come back recently. Batman’s publisher, DC Comics, has already made allusions to the possibility that Bruce Wayne could/will return eventually. But for the time being, Gotham needs a protector and the only mystery is “Who will end up with the cowl of Batman?”

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Because serious posts need to be followed with cartoon nudity

An ad I made to advertise Teddy in the school newspaper. It should be posted around campus soon. More ridiculousness to follow

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Beat me senseless



So, I'm in this class about the writers of the Beat Generation. Being in this class, hearing and reading their words have been an almost religious experience for me. I've been doing a lot of doodles in this class. Sorta like spontaneous prose but just sketches of sayings and thoughts that crop up. I have a longer, poetic piece that will eventually be put up here, but as for now, I have these. The first one is just Teddy as Abbie Hoffman. Chances are you know who Abbie Hoffman is if they name doesn't do anything. He had a huge white guy fro and wore an American flag shirt. The girl bear (who is named Luann, but I am the only one who knows that cause she hasn't appeared in any strips yet) is just a hippie flower girl. The second drawing is from a quote from William Burroughs. He was a Beat writer, whose works include "Junkie" (which he was) and "Naked Lunch". The quote in the corner is from a documentary called "The Source" about the Beats and hippies and it just struck me about how much truth there is in that. Drama works so well when you can either feel exactly what the writer is feeling or you can pull from your own life and make the reading that much more powerful.

"A bad experience for one person can be a good one for a writer."

And then this last one. This is my favorite picture because of how much is resonates with me. There is a stigma to being a person of impact. It is a two fold problem: 1. Your life has to be littered with emotional and physical problems and 2. You have to die young. The Beats just threw themselves into life. Whether this was an ideal life is up for debate, but they did not let up until it was done. Some were lost to drugs, some were just burned away by the lifestyles. A few got lucky and lived to a natural death, but most aren't lucky. But they live on and their message continues to inspire people. So what is the cost. Immortality in exchange for your short life? And that life is one of some sort of torment. At what temperature do we burn up? I get anxious about the thought of giving up my life for something like that. If I was Kerouac or Cassady, would I have lived with that same abandon or can I hope to in my own life? These guys viewed life in such a way that it gets me excited. Just seeing life as this truly beautiful thing and something that should be viewed as precious. Their words are the words of holy scripture and I become a born again with every reading. But then I worry about the fire and pull back my hand.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Teddy behind a table....









Oh boy, that Teddy sure gets into hi-jinx when he gets behind a table/desk.....


.....I have no idea how to introduce these ones.

Friday, March 20, 2009

A Message to those in power...


This message is true. While the presentation could be considered tasteless by some, it is something that we need to be considering with all the cuts to budgets and schools. In my opinion, the cuts to art in school is tragic. For myself, being creative is such a great outlet to whatever if getting me down or whatever is lifting me up. Some people aren't mean to be creative, but to think that those who are meant for that life are never given the opportunity makes me sad. So, I make a Hitler joke.

Monday, March 16, 2009

And so, it begins....

Here they are, the first additions to the blog



The first....

Welcome to the Teddy the Bear blog. Here's the basics of the blog. I have a one panel comic, Teddy the Bear, that occasionally runs in the Sonoma State Star. But I believe that Teddy should be getting out to the masses. I have all the strips on my Facebook, but I would like to get more in depth and share some more personal drawings on the web that don't really fit into the Teddyverse. So, I bring them to blogspot and hopefully to a wider audience. The strips will be posted soon. Like later today soon. For now, we have the intro.