Monthly Archives: February 2011

Of Mice and Magicians

He knew I was com­ing; he could see me and watch me at his whim. When I arrived, he looked at me hard. He was not wor­ried about me, and not scared. He was not amazed, nor was he star­tled. He was not warm or invit­ing. Like the rocks around him, he just was.

He nod­ded slightly to me, invit­ing me to fol­low; he turned and went into his home. The door was old, once red, but the paint worn and faded. In many placed the paint was com­pletely worn through to the wood beneath. But the door was thick and solid. It would have to be to seal off the home from the rav­ages of the sand storms it was there to but­tress against. Con­tinue read­ing

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Scott Walker and Me

Who is Dave Koch? At one time, I was a jour­nal­ist. I cared about being accu­rate, and play­ing by the rules. Ian Mur­phy is nei­ther. The ends do not jus­tify the means in this instance. There was no earth-shattering facts devel­oped from Mr. Murphy’s decep­tion, noth­ing Mr. Walker said (or was deceived into say­ing) jus­tify Mr. Mur­phy lying, under­handed trick­ery. When you lis­ten to the phone call, there were no wild sur­prises, noth­ing worth pub­lish­ing, much less low­er­ing your pro­fes­sional stan­dards to the level Mr. Mur­phy did. All he suc­ceeded in doing was cre­at­ing more dis­cord and dis­agree­ment between two par­ties that are at each other’s throats. Con­tinue read­ing

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The Show Must Go On

The trek was prov­ing harder than I thought. The ground was a vis­cous mud that held tightly to my shoes, stretch­ing with me and pulling me back. The air was thick, so thick it also was keep­ing me from mov­ing for­ward almost as much as the mud. Don’t get me wrong, I could make for­ward progress, it was just a lot of work for very lit­tle gain.

The light was wan­ing, and time was get­ting late, so when the Magic Bus showed up, I hopped right on. I was in the front row, and had a great view out the huge win­dows. The bus filled up and we started to move; I felt sorry for the peo­ple we were pass­ing, that had to trudge through the mud. Con­tinue read­ing

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Lost Guns

We never felt the need to ven­ture out to the bars; the Guns brought their own bar into Denny’s with them. They did not need to prowl Oliver Twists or the Hide­out, or ogle the girls at TD’s. They just needed to let their hair down and relax. They played at being char­ac­ters all day, they needed the time and space to be them­selves at night.

And so Mitch, Bob and I traded with the Guns, for a few hours at a time, every cou­ple of nights. We all got to feel impor­tant, we played at being famous, and the Guns got to be ordi­nary. We had the times of our lives, and they got the come-down they needed. Con­tinue read­ing

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More Road Stories

When you get to the other end of town, out­side the town proper and past the fur­thest reach of the shad­ows of the giant oaks, the sky opens up and the build­ings fall away. But you are still not safe; in fact, you are in more jeop­ardy here. The broad hori­zons make you feel you are safely out of the grip of the town, but Welling­ton has one last sur­prise for you. Con­tinue read­ing

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The Spider and The Bear

Par­al­lel­ing the rise of the road above the floor was a wooded frame­work, not yet fin­ished out. This was a tem­po­rary struc­ture– a sim­ple wooden scaf­fold­ing– that would be used to posi­tion cam­era and crew off the set but in a proper posi­tion to cap­ture per­for­mances at the cor­rect level. The treads across this scaf­fold­ing could eas­ily be removed, and the basic struc­ture blended right in to the set itself. This allowed the direc­tor to shoot wide shots from any­where he wanted. Con­tinue read­ing

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Search The Sky

The machine was now under its own power, and I could let up on the starter. The sharp quiv­ers of the start-up faded away into a smooth, sooth­ing hum as the main motors came online. Lisa was already in the captain’s chair, ready to fly us out. And per­haps that was a lit­tle dis­hon­est, tak­ing our ship like this. But there was no one to check out with. And it was part of our orig­i­nal deal here.… we had not pawned our fly­ing saucer, just sort of lent it to him. Con­tinue read­ing

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