The Sound of Music | Key to World Peace

There is an occult magic in this world so rare and precious it is little heard of today.  Uses for this magic include taming wild beasts, a fast-track cure for the common cold, and will (undoubtedly) be used to usher in world peace.  It is a well kept secret, but I’m prepared to share it with you all today.  That secret is the voice of Julie Andrews.

Most of us have heard at least one Andrews song in our lifetimes.  I’d even venture to say 90% of those songs are from The Sound of Music or Mary Poppins.  It is my opinion there is nothing Andrews’ voice can’t cure–especially choosing from these sources.  I was thinking about writing this post when my sister posted this video on Facebook, thus reinforcing my point:

The way the people react at seeing these dancers just coming out and doing their thing … there is such diversity–and just joy.  My day was made when I saw this video.  It’s evidence that the spirit of Andrews and her music is still strong in the mind of the world!

Taking a leaf from the Jedi Warrior’s Handbook, the military should play THIS at all the “bad guys” of the world!  Soften them up, lighten their hearts, and just plain get along.

*sigh*  I realize I’m dreaming big here, but “wouldn’t it be loverly?”  Take a moment and dream it with me.  Start singing your favorite Julie Andrews song, and do something nice for someone today.  It can even be from her other material!  There are TONS of GREAT songs in Victor/Victoria and Thoroughly Modern Millie and My Fair Lady and … *goes on ad nauseum*

*EDIT*

Alright, I found something else (of course).  If all the above videos have not made you happy, then perhaps this one may.  This features another one of my favorite actors from childhood, Gene Kelly.  Thanks, Mom!

Hotdogs, the Adjective

If you are not yet acquainted with Eddie Izzard, watch this video:

In celebration of this BRILLIANT joke, I’ve decided to “officially” classify hotdogs as an adjective.  I already use it frequently, and now I’ll have a frame of reference for all those who are foozled by my use of the common noun as such.

On Progress

The real intention of this blog was to chat about the progress we’ve been making on the book.  It’s been, well, hotdogs!  It’s amazing and a half to the square root of pi.

Learning about yourself is a tricky thing.  There have been many bumps in the road for us, but we’ve taken them on one by one.  The first one being the fact that we can’t rush the process.  Oh it would be nice if Rhiannon and I could put this book on the fast track, but the more we try to do it the more evident it becomes that we can’t.

We’ve set out to write a great–if not THE great–American Fantasy of our generation.

A Dream Longstanding

Looking back on my life, I can see how destiny was pushing me in this direction.  I was a sophomore in Lowell High School and there was nothing I wanted to do more than write.  I wrote short stories, poem, I even had a couple ideas kicking for a novel (fantasy, of course).  I was a voracious reader and my best friend was the librarian.

The only problem was, I couldn’t finish writing many of the things I started.  Sometimes it was hard to GET started in the first place.  So, I asked a good friend, Rachel (my first “wife” and fellow author), to write a novel series with me.  My goal was to write something epic–Tolkien in complexity.  I was even attempting to invent my own language.

Admittedly, most of the work I was doing I was hardly interested in.  I assumed, because that’s the way other authors came up with their magical worlds, that was the way I had to do it as well.  Needless to say, all this work go on Rachel’s nerves, and we fought about essential plot points so much that we worked together less than a month before decided it had been a bad idea.  Then I met Rhiannon …

Two Peas in a Pod

Okay, so it was a couple years later that I met Rhiannon.  I had discovered my sexuality, lost a bit of interest in writing, and was finally putting myself out there.  Up to this point I’d been a rather shy kid.  High school really transformed my personality.  It taught me courage, and how to be a comedian.

Then, this annoying kid in French class pressured me to join the Spindles (the Lowell High Show Choir).  You see, they were badly in need of male vocalists.  Male bodies is what they were after really.  I didn’t even have to audition to get in.  I was just expected to show up at the first rehearsal the next year.  Thank god for Rich!

Oddly enough, I’d spent the entire previous year with Rhiannon and didn’t even know it.  She shared that same French class with me.  Of course, she was on the other side of the classroom with her nose in a book 90% of the time.  She got in trouble once or twice for giggling out loud, but the teacher hardly noticed.

Rhiannon was a soprano in the show choir, and I ended up a tenor.  We ended up hitting it off rather quickly, once in the chorus room–to the point where we had to switch seats in order to sit next to each other.  We’d annoyed those between us to the extent that they were more than willing to move aside.

It wasn’t long before I asked Rhiannon to try writing with me.  She was wary, and didn’t jump.  Not that I blame her.  Writing with someone else is a lot of work.  Two egos to contend with, and we both knew mine was strong (still is).

A Pregnant Pause

Later, she went to college.  I tried to go to college, but found the environment wasn’t what I wanted.  Even going to multiple schools.  I just wanted to write, but I still had a hard time finishing anything of great length.

So, what did I do?  I joined the military.  It wasn’t I was half way across the world did I have the determination to pick up the pen and finally finish something.  After I got out of the Marines, in January of 2007, it took me four months to complete the writing of the most melodramatic family drama the world has ever seen.  There was no magic, at least nothing that could be classified as fantasy.  However, I was proud.  The 512 page, 100,000+ word novel was a completed rough draft of an entire book.

Destiny’s Inspiration

Rhiannon, being the GREAT friend she is, was honest about the book.  She hated it.  Even I admit, the thing is so sticky, the pages hardly turn.  It’s hard to believe it was the source for what we have now.  I took a risk, and asked her to write with me again.

Not without hesitation did she accept, but we promised each other not to take the project too seriously.  If it was putting strain on our friendship, it would have to end.  Turns out, it could be the best thing that happened to us.  It’s brought us to a point where we’re co-creating a world that’s always existed under the surface of our lives and it finally seeing the light of day.

I’m very pleased with our work.  And I apologize for not rereading this before posting, but family is arriving and I want to get this up.  Enjoy the video.  I’ll be back tomorrow with more to chat about, no doubt.  Maybe I’ll even tell a Taftkan tale.

Bouncing Balls | A Treatise on Testicles

Yester-morning I awoke to find a guest post on a blog I read regularly, The World’s Strongest Librarian, and I was a mite disturbed.  The guest post was by Larry Brooks, another blogger whom I have yet to really read (but I went over to his site, and it looked pretty cool).  His post was called An Ode to Dangling Body Parts, and I thought it was unjust indeed.

The subject of the post, female breasts and male testicles (as opposed to male breasts and female testicles … eww).  I completely support the female breasts!  I agree with everything he had to say about them, which I find isn’t too uncommon among gay men.

No, what I had a problem with was how he treated the topic of testicles–balls, from here on out.  Brooks had next to nothing good to say about them.  Accused them of being ugly hairy masses that bring tears to the eye and a bad taste to the pallet.  I completely disagree–and for NON-SEXUAL reasons.

A Brief (Selective) History of Balls in Art

I’m not the only one in history to think that the male form–all parts included–is beautiful.  The Greeks were MAJOR supporters of balls!  Research shows (this link is a PDF) that everything was meticulously carved into proportions in Greek sculpture–including the size and position of the balls.

The only “injustice” the Greeks may have done to balls was make the right one bigger than the left one in many cases, which isn’t the case in reality.  The Greeks also believed male sperm came from the right ball, and female sperm the left, so that could explain it.

Balls in a Beautiful Bouquet

The Greeks are at it again here, but this time it’s in words.  The Greek word for balls is orchis, and if you don’t recognize the cognate this word has in English, then look at the picture below for a clue!

Aren’t they beautiful? I thought so too, and so did the horticulturist who named them.  Before people finally settled on calling them orchids, this exotic flower was often called “bollocks stones,” “dogs stones,” and other similar variations.  Bollocks, as we know, is the British English term for balls, and we’ve all called them “stones” at least once in our lifetimes.

Why? You ask.  Even I have thought the petals cast images in the mind of FEMALE genitalia, not male!  Well, the roots look strikingly like a set of furry balls.  I think that’s the dog’s bollocks!

Lord of the Balls

The last way I can show how balls are beautiful, and are praised all around us, is taking you into religion.  Oh yes, that dark and sometimes dreary subject has something to say about them–you bet–and it’s not bad either.  Well, depending on how you look at it.

Have you ever folded your hands in prayer like this?  With steeple hands, not your fingers interlaced.  Do you know why we pray this way?  Historian Dr. Rex Curry thinks he has the answer!

It’s a Jewish practice linked with Yarek Oaths.  Yarek Oaths are seen all over the Christian Bible, especially in Genesis.  In these oaths, the one doing the swearing puts his hand on the “inner thigh” of the person they’re swearing to.  Jacob’s oath to his father, Abraham, is a Yarek Oath (Gen 47:29).

Dr. Curry has found, with his research, that “inner thigh” may have been a Hebrew euphemism for balls.  They did this, because it was a way of acknowledging their circumcision–which was the symbol of the Covenant the Hebrew people made with God.

It is from these Yarek Oaths that the tradition of folding hands to pray came about.  In doing so, the Hebrews may have believed they were acknowledging God’s circumcision, and his Covenant with THEM.  So just think about it, every time you pray with steepled hands, you’re cupping the Lord’s balls!

In Conclusion

I think I’ve made it clear how great balls are.  For those of you, like Brooks–and even Rhiannon–who still think their just ugly, I implore you to give them another chance.  They’re everywhere, sensitive, and need to be handled with care.

Think about it; they gave you life.  I’m not saying you have to like them, but they deserve as much praise as breasts.  Balls are great.  They can be fun to play with–you should try it sometime … whether your own set, or the set of a consenting adults’ (as long as you are a consenting adult as well, haha).  You never know, you might find you actually like them!

Queen Elizabeth, Armed

Getting over some bug or another going around.  I was just browsing the internet between naps and I found this picture on the Time website.  Of course I had to alter it a little and throw it up here, because humor heals!

For those of you who don’t know what I’m referencing, you’ve got to catch up on some Eddie Izzard!

Site Statistics

For the record, I strongly dislike pie charts.  I don’t know why, I just thought I’d throw that in there.  A random factoid regarding the Joey-seph.

So, I installed Windows 7 on my desktop recently, and did a silly thing.  I forgot to backup my bookmarks on Firefox before doing so.  See, told you I was a genius!

Naturally, I’ve not been to many of the sites I use to check how much traffic I’m getting, nor have I been pinging my site.  Okay, so I wasn’t ever convinced the pinging did anything but get my site out there, but I missed it.

Tonight, after work, I decided I was going to google how to get to my site statistics.  I did that, and my answer was in the first link.  It only took me six weeks to come up with that answer, but hey, I’m a genius.  These things take time.  My habit of digression is a bit taxing tonight.  Over-exhaustion, mayhaps.  Although, I feel not a lick of fatigue.

What I really meant to talk about, before we got caught up in my nifty prologue here, was how much traffic the site is starting to get!  I was pleased, in November, to see it break a thousand unique visitors.  Then we broke it again in December two weeks before the end of the month, and a few days before I installed the new operating system.

I just checked the stats for the site.  We made over 1500 unique visitors for December, and have almost surpassed that already for January.  More people are coming to the site.  This excites me in many ways, and it makes me want to start hearing from more of you.

If you’re a regular visitor–or even if this is your first time to my happy corner of the internet–please, leave a comment.  It can be anything.  Maybe an idea for an article you’d like to read, as long as it’s something I CAN write, I’ll do it up for ye.  Words of encouragement always help too.  I keep telling Rhiannon, “I need your excitement to egg me on!  If you don’t tell me what you like, I can’t give you more of it.”

This website is my stress outlet, my creative white-board, and, sometimes, my notebook.  I’ve found a lot of use in it; it has helped me in this journey in many ways, and will continue to do so, I imagine.  Let me know how I can make this website more useful to you.  Or more entertaining.  Whatever works.

My Classical Point of View

Excluding the people I love, second only to writing, music is the most important thing in my life.   I’m not sure I could write without it.  Sure, there are those times I need absolute silence in order to focus on the idea I’m putting onto paper.  However, for the most part, music can ease the writing process, facilitating the desired mood for a particular piece of writing.

A few months back I got the urge to listen Classical music–instrumental is what I was really after, and I did start with some movie soundtracks.  I listened to John Barry’s soundtrack to Somewhere in Time (starring Christopher Reeve, Jane Seymour, and Christopher Plummer), which has Rachmaninov ’s Rhapsody a Theme of Paganini .  This is one of my favorite movies from growing up (based on the equally awesome book, Bid Time Return by Richard Matheson), and I always loved the music in it.  John Barry’s The Old Woman is still one of my favorite pieces of music.

From there, I moved on to Fantasia.  Y’all remember that one right?  I was a Disney Kid, I had to watch it.  I think cartoons are a great way of getting kids in to Classical music.  Come to think of it, I have to track down Fantasia 2000 and watch that again.  Anyways, that movie lead to The Nutcracker and Tchaikovsky.  There, I also found Sleeping Beauty, the ballet.  I knew that the Disney version of Sleeping Beauty based it’s music on the ballet, but I never realized just how much GREAT music they cut! Before I moved on from Tchaikovsky, I also discovered I knew–and loved–his fifth symphony.  It too was used as a basis for another great movie moment from my childhood:  Maytime (staring Jeanette MacDonald, Nelson Eddy, and John Barrymore), the last opera in the film, Czaritza, is based on Tchaikovsky’s music.

Classical music is everywhere, I find.  Didn’t Mr. Holland try to teach us that?  Thanks Richard Dreyfus; I should have listened to you sooner.  All I’m sayin’ is, those of you out there who think listening to Classical is too boring/old fashioned, like I was before this Classical craving struck me, then stop thinking and start listening.  I promise you’ll find SOMETHING you already know.  The lack of lyric (or understandable lyric in some cases) really helps the writing process.  I find myself giving in to the muse with ease with the aid of such pieces of music.

Chopin’s Nocturnes shall be next, I think.  Then I’m going to delve into Dvořák … that should be interesting, I’m sure!

Through the Swirling Snow

I walked home from work, the pinhead-sized snowflakes swirling around in the wind.  It was nice; the air is quiet when it snows.  Living with the highway yards away from my bedroom window, precipitous moments like this are welcome.

It’s the second week in January and we’re still not done chapter seventeen.  However, we’ve had yet another breakthrough in the plot.  It is as if there are parts to this story, seeds of ideas, that lay low in their fertile soil until it reaches towards the sun and explodes into colorful bursts when we come back to check on it.

Our latest discovery–we can only call them discoveries–has to do with real history.  We’ve always expected our stories to have a layer of factual events surrounding the fantasy, but never did we expect it on this level.  Rhiannon made a joke about Lowell, I thought it was a brilliant idea.  I ran with it and discovered a whole history that nestled itself into our story as if it had been waiting for us.

The richness the story has taken on is incredible … in places it is so true to our lives it’s even frightening.  This novel officially went from “The Novel We Always Wanted to Write” to “Something Better than We Ever Dreamed Of”.  Now, it’s really just a book Rhiannon and I want to READ very much.

Rhiannon was at work last week in the midst of this breakthrough.  Our chatter was incessant with the discoveries we were making.  Things were coming to life.  The day came to a close, she got home and had the strongest desire to keep reading the book she read that day only to realize she hadn’t even taken one with her to work–it was OUR book she wanted to keep on reading.

(Note by Rhiannon: Seriously.  My part in writing the story has been the questioner.  Joey comes up with the ideas and connects them all together.  He hands me partially formed clay and I question and shape it.  For me, it really IS reading while writing.)

In any case, chapter seventeen is now essential to the plot at a higher level and will take some medium-heavy research before we can complete it.  I’ll be finishing the last scene in the chapter this afternoon, then plowing through to the end of the book.

Part of me wants this book to hurry up and be done, but these amazing discoveries and revelations we keep having are way too much fun.  I have a feeling, someday, I might miss this work.  I’m savoring it, now.  I don’t mind the slow progress, because of the product we are churning out.  I can’t wait for this secret to be out, and y’all enjoying what we’ve had a blast and a half writing!

(Lightly edited by Rhiannimated)

Wagner on the Brain

For a while now I’ve been looking to get into some music of the “Classical” nature.  Over the passed year a series of mystery movies have been aired on PBS: The Inspector Lewis Mysteries.  It was Music to Die For (in series two of the show) which turned my attention to Wagner.

A-Hunting We We Go

Although it has been a couple months since I saw the episode of Inspector Lewis where Wagner is a motif, last night, the desire to know more struck me.  So off to Google I trot, then over to Wikipedia and read Richard Wagner’s page.

Then I realized:  isn’t it wonderful that I could do this?  In the late hour last night I had the desire to delve into the world of Wagner, I suddenly found myself walking down the epic path.  The internet is such an amazing thing.  It allowed me to hunt down the knowledge I was craving.  Well, I’m still craving.  However…

Seek and Ye Shall Find

Der Ring des Nibelungen is a series of four operas that tell one grand tale–the story of the ring of Alberich.  The plot: a ring of power is created and fought over for generations.  Sound familiar?  I thought so too.  I continued reading and found out that Tolkien wanted no association to be made between his epic Lord of the Rings and Wagner.

It is true, they drew from the same myths to create both their tetralogies, but even I believe it a case of coincidence that both stories feature a ring of supreme power.  I’ve thoroughly read the Lord of the Rings twice, and while perusing synopses and librettos of Der Ring des Nibelungen that seems to be where the similarities end.

The Beginning of an Obsession

This is only the beginning, I fear.  These opera aren’t anything to sneeze at.  Like I said, it’s a series of four, and the final opera (Götterdämmerung–The Twilight of the Gods) is reported to take up to six hours to perform.  The recording I’ve attained is nearly fifteen hours from the start to finish.  Plus I have to read the libretto translation just so I know what’s going on.

So far, the music is utterly addictive.  I haven’t been able to stop listening.  Last night I read a little of the translation while listening … it was amazing.  Quite a storyteller Wagner was.  I could see some of the myths he drew upon, and was very pleased with the pictures my imagination came up with.

I think I’m going to have to read the translation away from the recording at some point as well.  I feel like this magical series of opera have shown up right on time.  This might not be the last time you get to hear about them.  I suggest you go give it a listen.  Even if you don’t get into it as much as I have, it’s still worth your time.  The highlights will probably suffice for you though, haha!

The Invigorating Cold

So I woke up this morning and was rather thankful I didn’t have to go into work until two o’clock.  The weatherman warned about cold, and when I woke up, and saw the crystal clearness of the sky new it’s beauty had to come with a catch.  It had to be freezing.  Happy I was to not be going out in it.

Ha ha! Sayeth the universe.  I was out the door and on my way to the grocery store.  My cupboards nearly bare of easily prepared foods.

Pulled on my coat, gloves, and earmuffs, then I lowered my head to the wind and speed off in the chill.  About halfway to the store my eyes made it skyward–they so often do–and I saw, again, the crystal blue of the sky.

In that moment I was awake.  The cold livened my sensed and I had no thought.  There was just me, and the beauty of the day.  The cold facilitated my appreciation.  It woke up every part of my physical body, making me completely aware of my connection to everything around me.

Does anyone else out there have these personal realizations about being connected to your surroundings?  I want to hear your stories!

How I’ve Learned to Write

Writing can take a lot of mental power.  For instance, coming up with an idea for a daily blog post.  Most of the time, as the case was today–and many days–it is simply lack of willful focus on the task at hand.  As soon as I sat down with the intention to write, the words sprang from my fingers and into life.

I don’t really have a “secret” as to where I get my inspiration.  I get it form everything, every moment or every day.  I become interested in a story, and a pick up models and character types I’d like to try out.  I see a person walking down the street, muttering into a cell phone–or to themselves–and my mind leaps to fill in the blanks; a story is conceived.

For the longest time, all I had were these notebooks filled with ideas.  None of the stories ever got written, but I was ceaselessly barraged with new and newer ideas.  I even tried to write some of them.  A lot of my past explorations in writing reflect the journey of the past year: when I learned how to write.

The Struggle

First, I get excited by an idea which needs to be repeated and repeated and repeated in my head until I am obsessed with it.  That obsession takes hold of my life and I see some marvelous things come out of it.  Things that never existed before this obsession.  People, events, entire universes … they are both my servants and my dictatorial masters.  It’s a struggle.

This struggle usually happens when I try to put this obsession into words.  Inspiration demands attention, and the mind power needed to create new worlds can not be shared with the focus needed to tempt perfection from my fingers.  Not to mention, the thrilling feelings are hard to come by when trying to recreate something so perfectly formed in my head.

Here and now … in this moment of doubt … when I find myself wondering why I’ve even devoted all this energy to such a silly idea … this is when I know I’m onto something.

The struggle isn’t all that’s needed though.  I knew how to struggle for a long time.  I’d annoy myself with the struggling … never able to finish a story, nor even blog posts!  Almost didn’t finish this one.  Impatience is a writer’s enemy.  No, there was one thing more I didn’t learn until these past two years of writing.

The Flowing of Ink

The most important thing to do at this point in the struggle is write.  Write whatever it is that comes to mind.  Whether it ends up in the final presentation or not: it must be written down!  By this point I’ve worked over this blog three or four times, changing the focus and tampering with the voice.  The struggle is part of the process.  The only way I’ve found to overcome this struggle is to write.

It doesn’t have to be good.  That’s where redrafting comes in.  I learned to write by writing.  When I look at the first few chapters of the novel now (which I do very seldom) I see how my style and my knowledge of the characters has improved.  I also see how the words I began with can be made better, but I will not rework them until the whole of the first draft is finished.  On that endeavor I am resolute.

If there is anyone else out there, stumbling in the dark–but having the time of his/her life–like I am, just keep on writing.  We’ll get there.  Hopefully with as few bumps and bruises as possible.  I know there is much more for me to learn about writing.  I learn more everyday.  I can’t wait until this stage of the writing is over, but I know it will be sorely missed when it is.