Hip Hip Huzzah!

Gentle readership,

Salutations! The Newt Jersey doc how has an official 86 views. That's more than people I have met in my life. Thanks internet! I never expect you to become self aware and take over the world. Because you're my friend.

I've been a busy bee (thats right, a bee.) these past weekdays, putting together all sorts of projects.

One I'm particularly excited about - A bold band of Purchase Dramatic Writing students are putting together a production of theater-type pieces inspired by photographs of photo majors. Details of the production itself are sketchy, but my project is well underway. I'm a draft into a musical with puppets that has something to do with the sub-prime mortgage crisis. The extremely talented Mike Hart (you may know him from the crapload of films he's scored, including the one I wrote) is quick at work on the score, and I can't wait to write my first lyrics since those terrible songs I wrote in highschool. We've all got them.

For a taste of what I've done with my arsenel of puppets (yes it's an arsenel,) check out this video I made for a contest.

I'm also working on a one man show/musical about Batman. It follows him and his trusty guitar Robin on their patrol, the night of the anniversary of the murder of the Wayne parents. Look for a performance at the Co-op, with donations going to buying a little kid a Batman toy for Christmas.

My big screenwriting project right now is an adaptation of the Phillip K. Dick short story "Precious Artifact." It's my first long form bit of Sci-fi and I'm excited. The story follows Milt, an engineer who has just finished overseeing the terraforming of the first portion of mars. He comes to earth to investigate some mysterious happenings, and finds out (in classic Dick style,) that bum bum bum - nothing is as it seems! Ohhhh no!

When it's done I'll post it, so as to confuse all of you.

That's all. For you who have been following Newt Jersey in the Independent, they are a few weeks behind. Once I actually do a good one, I will start to make them current again. Look for an opportunity this semester to write a Newt Jersey strip to be printed and posted, with credit to you!

That's all for now, Mission Control!

Now how do I turn this thing off...

Is it this thingy here? Nope?

Oh here, it's this switch.

There.

Whew.

Now, time to eat some peanut butter.

Mmmm peanut butter.

But I can't eat peanut butter without my special hat, can I?

No I can not.

Newt Jersey Documentary

I am super excited to present a documentary made about Newt Jersey by filmmaker John Morgan.

It is an interview, animated with pictures I drew especially for the occasion. It was weird talking about my work, and even weirder hearing my own voice, but it came out fantastically.

So you can go here to watch it, or type Newt Jersey into youtube.

I love that when you Google Newt Jersey, half the things are about Newt Gingrich, and the other half are trying to sell you a jersey with a newt on it. Someday I will buy one of these jerseys and mail it to Newt. Then break into his house and steal it back from him.

I have a lot of crazy projects coming up, including a puppet musical about the sub-prime mortgage crisis, so stay posted.

Thanks y'all for watching, and reading.

For your health,

Bryan

The Biggest Sleep

I acted in this adaptation of the noir classic "The Big Sleep" by Lucas Francy. I got to play a spry old man, and wear awesome makeup. I'm going to be just like this when I grow up. For some reason blogspot will not show it in widescreen. I suggest going to the page itself.

The Stargazer

When I found him, I thought the grasshopper would find his way out of the observatory. Instead, he learned how to use the telescope. I would come in, late in the evenings after my shift at Lockheed, and he would be there. I would open the door slowly and peek in. For a second I could see him – a speck on the end of the little viewing lens. The pale moonlight trickled down the side of the telescope and the grass hoppers wings glimmered. I would throw open the door, and like a bolt of lightning he would blur into the air and be lost. I didn't know where he jumped to, where he lived. But I wanted to find out.

It was a Sunday night in September. The sporadic cold would rush in from the opening of the dome, swirl around in the room, and just as quick be gone. I had decided to spend the night at the observatory. But I had no intention of going anywhere near the telescope. I was there to watch the grasshopper. I was convinced he was studying the celestial bodies, and I intended to see how he went about doing it. So I sat still in the corner, reading a book as the sun went down. The light in the room changed from yellow to orange to pink until the white moonlight came and cooled the room and washed out all the color.

I began my vigil. Hours passed where I saw nothing but the slow movement of the stars in the opening of the dome. I wondered if he knew I was there, or if I was going mad. Frustration gave way to defeat which gave way to the rolling slope to sleep. But then, with my eyes half open, I saw him – that thin lightning bolt flash in the air, then the speck, twitching into place on the end of the lens opening.

He sat there for along moment, hanging over the lens. He was looking in, I was convinced of that. The moon was full that night. He would have a spectacular view. I could not help but recall the urgency, wonder, smallness that I experienced in my early days of stargazing in my backyard with my red Tasco telescope. I must have looked something like this.

Then, the grasshopper crawled off the lens edge, up to the barrel of the telescope. He began to walk up, towards the opening of the dome. He looked like he was walking on a moon beam, slowly plodding up the silvery shaft of light. He was tiny, but impossible to miss against the brightness. He continued up, up until he reached the edge of the dome, and then past the opening out onto the edge of the telescope.

He stood on that edge, above the giant lens, and looked out at the full moon. Out at the stars. The grasshopper stared in the face of the infinite reaches of space, dwarfed by the massive moon and the sea of stars. That night I thought to myself – here is the most beautiful thing I have, and will ever see in my life.

And I have seen the universe.

The invaders came a week later. The observatories were among the first things they bombed.

Sometimes I have a hard time recalling the old days. It is moods and colors in bits and pieces in my mind. But that grasshopper I remember so clearly. How he glowed.

Groundhog Day

The Groundhog Day celebration was in full swing. The entire town had emptied into the square - which was packed with all manner of colorful coats and hats like a big bowl of breakfast cereal. I had just arrived - with all of the commotion, and the surge of out of towners visiting for the ceremony, I had kept the candy store open as long as I could. It was tough to shut my doors on the steady stream of bright eyed children coming through the front door, the bell hanging from the door frame constantly jingling. I tossed some chocolate bars to the few on their way in, and locked up - I, like all the citizens of Punxsutawny, won't miss the ceremony for anything.

I waved hello to Bill, the owner of the tool shop and his family, and tipped my hat to Larry, the auto mechanic. He had a new girl on his arm, a short blond with a wild Technicolor scarf. Oh that Larry. I made my way past the core of the crowd, where all of the townspeople who were prone to dancing were hopping up and down to bright little jig. The rotary club band was fighting with their old instruments and older lungs to throw the song over all the chattering people. I caught the glint of a french horn and gave Peter a wave - we played in the highschool band together.

I made my way to the front of the crowd just as the Grandmaster was beginning the opening remarks. His face shook as he proclaimed the prosperous year, and the new families of the community, and how well the highschool basketball had done this season. Steam bellowed out of his mouth like a train engine, and he paced left and right on the stage with all the practiced movements of a minister. When he unrolled the proclamation and recited it, the crowd was completely silent, save for the rustling of a few coats. Not even Ms. Haddonfield's baby cried, and that baby could wail through a whole church service.

Finally the time came for the Grandmaster to bring the Groundhog out of his home - a thick cedar box, with a mesh window. He took a large key, and unlocked the front of the box. The air was sucked out of the crowd - not an individual blinked. I had waited the whole year for this moment - would the Groundhog see his shadow? There must be something compounding about suspense in a crowd. The weight of the silence seemed about ready knock us over.

The front of the box fell open, and the Groundhog stepped out. First his nose, twitching and searching left and right. Then his paw, feeling for the ground outside. He came completely out of the box, and looked about himself. He saw nothing.

We gasped a collective gasp. The Groundhog did not see his shadow.

We burned the Groundhog because it was a witch.

The crowed danced and sang while the fire burned out and the street lights came on.

I walked home, feeling warmer than I had all winter. Only three hundred and sixty four more days till the next Groundhog Day. I couldn't wait.

Halloween Costume Slumber Party Murder Mystery

I'm feeling just crazy enough tonight to throw this up here.

It was written as a prospective piece for a collaboration with the Dance conservatory.

It goes without saying that it wasn't picked up. Instead they used something much more reasonable.

But I still love this little thing, and I doubt it will see much of a life anywhere else.

So if you can give it a few minutes of your time, you are invited to the

Halloween Costume Slumber Party Murder Mystery

The first guest arrived at the Halloween Costume

Slumber Party at seven. He found Mr. Host’s mansion

much as you would, three left turns, a wavy road, a zig

zaggy road, one road that doesn’t seem to want to make

up it’s mind, and a final sharp turn left, or, directly

under the full moon on the last day of October. He also

found it spooky as all get out. Slanting ceiling, paint

peeling, shingles spilling into the lawn overgrown, the

porch stairs moan and the iron gate’s got more rust

than a really rusty thing. Mr. Heebiji, the first

guest, was welcomed by Mr. Host. He took Mr. Heebiji’s

coat, then apologized and gave it back. There were no

hard feelings. The house was glowing like a

jack-o-lantern with orange lights in every corner and

bats hanging from the ceiling. But it’s okay because

they were paper bats. The rest of the guests arrived

one after another, as guests tend to arrive, and each

brought something to share - Mr. Meow looked like a cat

and had a bowl of milk maid caramel chews. Ms. Daisy

bought a vase of petunias, and was a convincing

mermaid. At least the top half was - and that was as

far as anyone got. Mr. Murderer brought in a dead deer

(with great effort). He came as a teddy bear. Ms.

Terrious came as herself, and brought with her a

general air of mystery. Mr. Sadly was done up as a

zombie, and had a box of microwave popcorn. Butter

blasted, of course.

They sat in the parlor and unwrapped the chews and

chewed and chatted and Mr. Host began to explain the

evening - "Tonight it is Halloween, and I hope for you

all to be spooked, shiver at some point, get a creepy

crawly feeling, high on candy, crash, high on

conversation, crash again, and then feel awkward about

the sleeping arrangements. But don’t get so scared that

you leave. I am extremely lonely. So, so very lonely."

The guests all cheered, yaaaaaay. Except for Mr. Sadly

who by that point had been murdered, and Left in the

foyer, with a very large bump on his head. Ahhhhhhh!

Everybody screamed and "Calm down!" Mr. Host implored

and "Meow" Mr. Meow meowed because he was quite

possibly a cat. In costume yes, but also in the fact

that he was a cat. Mr. Meow is a cat. But nobody knows.

Mr Heebiji was a sad clown in real life, Ms. Daisy a

kindergarten teacher, Mr. Murderer worked in retail,

and Ms. Teerious was something hard to pronounce. Mr.

Host decided not to let the murder be a wet blanket, so

he covered the body with a sheet. They went right to

passing the bowl of brains around! Ewwwww.. And then

the eyeballs! Double ewwwww! And then a bowl of Chex

mix! Aghhhh! Ms. Daisy passed out. Mr. Meow licked her

face until she came to. Then they played truth or dare,

and the first was Mr. Heebiji. He asked "Truth or

dare." and Ms. Daisy said "Truth,of course." and he

asked "Did you murder Mr. Sadly?" and Ms. Daisy said

"No! - I win! I win!" "You do not. Ms. Daisy, you

clearly do not understand the game." Mr. Host said. But

they kept playing and everyone said truth and every one

said they didn’t murder Mr. Sadly. The big question on

everybody’s mind was - whodunit? And they began to

watch their backs, and three episodes of the Twilight

Zone. They went on to play spooky twister, which is

regular twister but with costumes. There was fake blood

and Mr. Meow won. He is surprisingly limber. On to the

den to tell spooky stories!

Mr. Host couldn’t find his flashlight and you can’t

tell a spooky story without a flashlight so they split

up to find it. Ms. Daisy and Mr. Meow searched the

attic together, and almost kissed, but got spooked when

a rat scurried by. Mr. Meow chased the rat. Ms.

Teerious found the flashlight in the kitchen, and Mr.

Host found that Mr. Heebiji had been murdered. He was

in the kitchen with a sizeable butter knife in his

heart and a sizable heart from his butter. Everyone

freaked out. So they told spooky stories. Ms. Daisy

shone the light on her face from below and told a story

about a crab in a wicker basket. Ms. Teerious just

shone the light on her face and that was enough. Mr.

Murderer started to tell his crab story, but decided

against it and told one about a man murdering another

man with a butter knife. It was vaguely familiar.

The police came, and Mr. Host put a hand full of candy

in each of their bags. They were very happy. Everybody

ate candy then! Mr. Host wheeled out a barrow of candy.

A whole barrow full! And they grabbed and they crunched

and they unwrapped and they munched and licked their

fingers and Mr. Meow licked his paws, and they would

move their hands to their faces like a machine and

there was blue candy and red candy and yellow candy and

sweet sour salty bitter candy and even a spicy candy,

what’s up with that? Mountains of candy! Streams of

candy! Fjords of candy! They would forget to unwrap

some candy, but it didn’t matter because they were

eating and eating and eating. Butter fingers, milky

ways, take five, blow pop, tootsie of the pop and roll

variety, milk duds, milk bones, starburst, skittles,

sweet tarts, kitty cat, pixi sticks, jolly ranchers,

roast beef, bazooka Joe bubble gum, thumb tacks, gummy

bears, jelly beans, whoppers, Mr. Meow.

They finished the candy and couldn’t keep the world

from spinning so they spun themselves on the floor and

flailed their limbs like wacky octopuses and they felt

like they were dying. Then they all vomited rainbow

candy colors on each other and it was beautiful. And it

pooled around them and they splashed in it and felt

more at home then they ever had in their entire lives.

They woke up three hours later and Mr. Meow was gone.

Murdered, of course. Then they had a pillow fight. But

it got too rough and feelings were hurt. Then Mr. Sadly

came and played spooky Scrabble with everyone, which is

like Scrabble only spooky. But Mr. Sadly was dead!

Ahhhhhh. He must be a zombie for real.

So Mr. Sadly chased everyone through a hallway with a

bunch of doors and they opened and closed and opened

again, and Shaggy and Scooby found the spooky old

kitchen and made a big sandwich but Scooby ate it

before shaggy could and then the ghost ate the second

sandwich Shaggy made. Then Mr. Sadly caught up to Ms.

Daisy and ate her. Oh no! I liked that character.

After that, Zombified Mr. Sadly solved the mystery. It

turns out that everyone present had stock in Mr. Host’s

offshore drilling company, which was going under.

Water, that is, because that’s where fish are. So Mr.

Host hosted the party for Mr. Meow’s birthday,

disguising it as a Halloween party so that he could

tell the spooky story he has been working on about a

crab. Mr. Heebijibi was murdered by pirates. Ms.

Teerious was murdered by a giant squid. The giant squid

came uninvited, but everyone enjoyed it’s company. Mr.

Meow was mistaken for furry cat flavored candy, and was

eaten to death. Ms. Daisy was mistaken for candy

flavored people and was eaten to death. Mr. Host

married the giant squid and they lived together for

thirty years, and put three adopted squid children

through college.

But the big question was - who murdered Mr. Sadly, and turned him into a zombie? Was it Mr.

Murderer? No, he was too busy murdering the family next door. If you can keep a deep dark secret - I did. I murdered Mr. Sadly. With my fists. Because it was Halloween. And Halloween Costume Slumber Party Murder Mystery sounds awesome. But he's dead now. And I have to live with that for the rest of my life. I miss Mr. meow. Because he was a kitty cat.

Welcome

Hi all you space creatures!

You have found my blog. You can take it home and put it in your fish tank, and name it Charlie. But it will always be Scoopy to me. And I will always miss it.

Forgive me it's late at night and I a bit loopy from hunger and the strange numbness you get from a bit ol' CRT monster.

Just think of reading this as stumbling into a dark room where I've got a puppet on and I'm talking to it and I say

"Oh, no, it's fine! It's just a little project I'm working on."

but you still feel like you saw something that you weren't meant to.

Well you did. And now we're after you too.

Now that my other blog has become the home of Newt Jersey, and that is hosted on thefunnycartoon.com, I can't just post whatever tom foolery or jim huckery or neil stabbery I feel like.

So that's what this is for.

A disturbing mix of me talking to puppets in the dark,

updates on my current projects,

and random writings that you aren't going to see anywhere else.

Why should you care? You probably shouldn't.

But there's a kid in Papillion Nebraska who lives for this stuff.

This post is going to be much too long. I've come to terms with that.

It was an abomination to begin with.

FIRST:

Last semester I wrote a script for Caleb Foss, an super-awesome filmmaker and fellow SUNY Purchase student. It was tough - this was my first time writing a script for a specific director. I had a very strong idea of Caleb's style and sense of humor - much of his stuff is a fantastic mix of experimental medium deconstruction type stuff and absurdist humor. For a great example, check out An Introduction To Physics, which has picked up a few awards from festivals.

The project was to be shot on video, so I really wanted the opportunity to mess with the world of the video, sort of subvert the medium. I love Tim and Eric Awesome show, and they are a great example of how hilarious/terrifying it can be to upset the medium in little ways.

My initial idea had to do with the theory that the Large Hadron Collider won't work because The Universe itself is sending crazy-waves back through time to prevent some timespacefabric destroying catastrophe that is caused by the Collider's successful operation.

I thought it would be hilarious to have a video do the same thing - try to destroy itself to preserve the integrity of the universe, or video itself. If that makes any sense. It might not. This was around the time I stopped drinking coffee.

So the idea evolved into what became Skipping Stones.

It has nothing to do with the Hadron Collider (though I am still a bit obsessed), it has all the cool crazy video subversion I was looking for, and it gave Caleb the chance to bring his video-manipulating genius to dinner.

You can download the screenplay here.

I sort of let the deconstruction of the video make its way into the script itself, which is fun. If that sounds mysterious, then read it! It is.

Awesome other facts:

Julia is the name for the rock that The God of Video kicks.

God of Video is played by Chris Frahme, also a filmmaker.

The score by Mike Hart melts your face.

The creeper in the red jacket is me.

NEXT:

Last semester, I acted in two iterations of an adaptation of the HP Lovecraft story The Re-animator by filmmaker John Morgan.

The first was a single take, which was fantastic and exhausting. I ruined so many takes butchering this line "There must be something keeping the neurons from reactivating. Maybe some deterioration within the axons." Now I can say it five times fast. Or ten times even.

The second was much different, and I had fewer lines to screw up. I get punched in the face! You people like that stuff.

There's some other stuff I got for you, that I have to scrounge up. I also played an old wheel chair bound man in an adaptation of The Big Sleep. That was a blast. I've begun to be type casted as an old man and a small child. I love it.

But that's all for now.

Follow me, I won't mind.

And comment too, even if it's mean spirited.

Yeah you walked in on me playing with my puppets,

but I've got enough puppets for everyone.

Everyone.