When it rains...

The week starts with me getting my thesis proposal to committee.

One committee member remarks on an RPG panel she saw at a folklore conference.

The next morning (today), the students running that panel e-mail me. You see, they're trying to publish an academic volume on role-playing games (RPGs). I didn't see the call for papers until too late, but e-mailed them anyway to say that "if you need anything..."

So, I'm submitting a proposal for an article possibility. Yeah, I know it's really tentative, and there are good odds there won't be room... Hey, you can't fault a guy for being excited, can you? Well, I suppose you could...

Anyway, the subject of said article is Dennis Detwiller's game, "Insylum." Even if the article never happens, everybody who considers themselves a gamer needs to check out Detwiller's website. It's folk like him who keep my hope for the gaming industry afloat.

Now I should really get around to finishing my late work. Seriously.

...and, perhaps as an attempt to justify what I'm doing, I've posted my thesis proposal at the Miskatonic blog. It's very, very long, and I doubt many people will want to wade through it. Again, it's probably there out of self-justification more than anything else.

Now that we've got that outta the way...

Perhaps I should re-title this, 'addendum to the previous rant..." Anyway.

This second year of Masters work is messin' with me. On one hand, I'm behind in three classes (including one from the summer). My social and personal lives barely exist. I am completely the wrong person for my assistantship. Every time I engage in something creative and fun, all I can think is "Well, this'll result in losing more sleep since I can't afford to fall further behind."

On the other hand, I love my thesis topic. I love studying the history and types of performance and games. I'm looking forward to (finally) taking a directing class. I'm excited about my short play that's going up in a month. I was referred to a panel at the AATE conference in D.C. next July (the specific session is titled "Games, Education, and Theatre/Performance").

It's this terrible, wonderful beast. But everyone seems about to explode around me. Maybe it's because we had to read Dada and Futurist theatre articles for this week. Which I'm taking a break from.

Oh, and this new Elbow CD is pretty cool. I don't have a final opinion on it, but the first single, "Leaders of the Free World," is pretty damn sweet.

That's all. I should go back to reading. Or finishing that overdue paper on Mishima Yukio. Or maybe I'll waste more time with my Anachronism decks.

Someone has lost focus, methinks.

The other side of the odds

Working at the record store today, I finally broke down and bought it. The cover of Make Love! (the Bruce Campbell Way) was always visible at the counter. I was like a deer in headlights. After some reflection, I've become a bit melancholic.

See, here's the basic story of B. Campbell: As a young 'un, he meets a group of people with similar interests (including some guy named Sam Raimi). They did a lot of crazy, creative stuff like make movies and host a radio show. Eventually, after many years of struggle, fun, and B movies, Sam directs such crazy, creative stuff as Spider-Man and A Simple Plan. Bruce is the consumate B-movie actor. He's so consumate, he's practically A-list.

Or how about the guys from the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society (who I'm studying for el thesis)? Sean and Andrew are theatre and game geeks. They create a live-action game that meshes theatre and the Call of Cthulhu role-playing game. Sean runs a theatre in L.A., Andrew acts, voices, writes, directs, and designs; now they've just finished the amazing filmic adaptation of Call of Cthulhu.

But one thinks to one's self, "though such stories may seem amazing, there are thousands of groups of friends with crazy creative skills; odds are, some of them are going to hit it."

Which leads to the melancholy. Odds are, some of them won't. For example, a young kid named Justin meets a kid named Tony. Their group of friends grows, and it's a crazy, creative group. Justin and Tony spend two years hosting a radio comedy show. Justin, Tony, Jeff, and Scott create the brilliantly non-brilliance that was Pennsylvania Jones. Tony and Tim make more films, earning a smattering of notoriety. Justin and Jeff run games.

And what results of this group? Scott has all but disappeared. Jeff is married and works with computers all the live-long day in Boston. Last I knew, Tim is doing important technical stuff in the Armed Forces. Tony's in Pittsburgh, one of the top managers of a small rental corporation. He's still an avid amateur photographer with the eye of a true auteur. And here I sit, with late class work piling up as I work towards a Masters' degree. Research, not creative.

Sure, we still struggle to be more. Jeff and I wrote a play, which has been performed. Tony and Tim attempted work on a number of filmic ventures. I write columns and scripts, I act and direct. Heck, I've even won a couple minor awards. Maybe I'm feeling burnt out at an early stage; the two success stories I cited aren't tales of quick & easy paths to glory.

The fact remains, though... I do feel burnt out. I miss Samizdat Radio. I miss FourMarx Productions, Out of the Ground Productions, Tony & Tim films. I miss the role-playing games. I miss the crazy, creative brainstorm sessions for whatever was next. Most of all, I miss the dynamic of the group. Gods, we really had something.

Instead of performing and writing and creating, I'm in an assistantship that requires skill in areas where I'm weak. I don't perform. Otherwise I'd never finish my classes. I still write like a fiend, and sometimes I surprise myself. And I'll soon be engaged to an artistic woman who would fit perfectly with such a group.

All these parts... and the odds are that they'll never add up to a whole ever again. Not in a nostalgic, "oh, why can't it be" matter; logistically, it's worse odds than a racing tip from Chico Marx.

So, yeah, I suppose I should get back to working on my thesis proposal. It goes to degense in a couple weeks. Woot.

Return of the Sickly Man

Steph and I just got back from the H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival in Portland, OR. Friggin' sweet, I tells ya. We got some cool swag, saw some good films (saw some bad films...), and enjoyed the city of Portland.

Honestly, though, it would have been nice to not have caught a cold on day 2 of the excursion. Seriously. It's still lingering, and I've never been more miserable on a plane than yesterday. There's something about the air pressure screwing with your clogged sinuses that simply ain't fun.

Anyhow, I got my interviews with the cats from the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society; Jane has returned my revised prospectus, so all looks good (if somewhat late). Now I just need to cath up on the work we were supposed to get done over this "break".

That said, I'll try to post a review of some of the goings-on from the Fest on the Miskatonic blog.