Oh boy, it has been awhile...

Sorry about the stunning lack of posts on this thing.  Almost all of my creative bent has been thrown into my webcomic, A Theater Near You and the art I'm doing for The Lunch Table.  Keep checking there for new stuff from me.  If anything noteworthy for this blog crops up, it'll come here first.

New things!

Why, you may ask, have things been rather slow on here lately?  Well, the answer is because lots of things are happening in the world of Dave.  Here's what's the what.

I am now part of a podcast, available through itunes!  It is called The Lunch Table and it is a lengthy discussion of movies, books, comics, music, video games, pretty much anything and everything nerdy.  My first appearance is on the last 40 minutes of episode 3, entitled "Let's all try and be professionals", in which I discuss at length the remake of Last House on the Left and the upcoming summer movie season.  If you'd like to subscribe, the easiest way to go about it is to head over to www.thelunchroom.net and subscribe on the Lunch Table page.

Speaking of the website, that brings me to my second thing that's going on.  I am now a coauthor and artist for an online comic strip affiliated with the site called A Theater Near You, about the daily trials of working at a movie theater.  You can find that via The Lunch Room as well.

Now then, things have also been slow because I've been working on a few personal projects, most of all plotting out In Name Only, which is coming together in my mind much more fantastically than I thought possible.  The characters are starting to do things on their own and tell me how the story is going to roll, which is freaky and also awesome.

I'll find some more stuff to put up on here, I promise.  Until next time, check out all the new things!  

Dave

I found these quotes recently (God bless wikiquote), and I think they pretty much define a lot of my feelings on writing, in a sense.  Or rather, they exemplify my attitude towards the content of my stories and why I write the way I write, among other things.  What do you all think?

I do not think the forest would be so bright, nor the water so warm, nor love so sweet, if there were no danger in the lakes.

-C.S. Lewis

A pleasure is full grown only when it is remembered.

-C.S. Lewis

God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.

-C.S. Lewis

Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from love of the thing he tells to love of the telling till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be interested in God at all but only in what they say about Him.

-C.S. Lewis

Writing is a bit like shitting...if it's coming in dribs and drabs or not coming at all, or being forced out, or if you're missing the rhythm, it's no pleasure at all.

-Germaine Greer

Text-messaging or The Sun, these are perfect Orwellian ways of limiting the vocabulary and thus limiting the consciousness.

-Alan Moore

All I do is track a profane route to something (I hope) profound. Like swimming a river of shit for a kiss.

-Chuck Palahniuk

From Chapter IV: Sanctuary

I had a habit of examining church marquees and collecting them, like you collect stamps or baseball cards. It was my hobby, and everyone comes to a point where they need a hobby. A hobby was, for me, a buffer against the ever expanding nothingness I was noticing in the world around me. Depression pales in comparison to the realization that despite immersing yourself in a life of faith, of hope, of love and community and togetherness, you still feel lonely when you’ve been on the road for six hours to promote some book that you wrote. Some book full of lies that you once believed. Some book that you now despise.
I was a Christian, Goddamn it. I was supposed to have the solution to these problems ready made, stored away in my book of orthodox dogma for the modern male. I wasn’t supposed to be feeling things like loneliness. I sure as hell wasn’t supposed to have even the vaguest notions that life was meaningless, that there was no Jehovah Agape up there in the sky, looking down on my pitiful frame and thinking, “Yeah, that’s my kid.” I was supposed to be the one taking my friends aside, telling them why their emotions were ill-conceived, childish, and probably sinful.
Psychologists would say my feelings sprang up from a childhood devoid of a solidified father figure. I know, I’ve looked it up. Charismatic preachers would say it was demonic oppression. I know, I’ve been told this directly. Neither of these ideas is particularly helpful on some dark stretch of I-80 on a winter midnight in Illinois. So, as any sane person does in that state, I considered a hobby. Stamp collecting seemed like something antique, something from the fifties. Kind of lame. Same with baseball cards and archery and anything else Tom, Dick, and Jane talked about in the schoolyard.
The hobby I chose had its genesis years ago, when I was still in Bible college, still fighting the good fight and scaring the hell right out of the unbelievers. I was a person who wore business suits to class and yelled scriptures into a megaphone on street corners near liberal universities. Back then, I looked a lot more like my doppelganger than I did on the night I fell into a puddle in Flint. I had the clothes, I had the hair, I had the winning smile and the heart for lost souls. I was driving by a small baptist church, and the little glowing sign out front read, “We’re the church the Devil warned you about”. I wasn’t quite sure what that was supposed to mean, really. Was I to believe that the devil goes out and warns non-christians not to attend a specific church because it would instantly make you a better, more denomination specific person? Was I supposed to laugh at this? I didn’t really find it funny, but at the time I convinced myself it was clever in it’s own Christian way. I memorized it, slipped it into conversations over coffee in the cafeteria and discussions in my Modern Cults class. To my dismay, my discovery was nothing new.

Writing continues.  I'm having fun, which I guess is the real goal right now.

DAVIES RESULTS!

Here they are folks, the official results for the Davies Awards!

Animated Short: Presto

Animated Feature: Wall-E

Screenwriting: Wall-E

Cinematography: Slumdog Millionaire

Visual Effects and Makeup: Prince Caspian

Supporting Actor: Heath Ledger

Supporting Actress: Hiam Abbass

Directing: Darren Aronofsky

Lead Actor: Mickey Rourke

Lead Actress: Meryl Streep

Best Picture: Slumdog Millionaire

If it were a movie...Part 2

This time I'll be casting the classic science fiction novel Perelandra by C.S. Lewis.  I highly recommend this book and the rest of the space trilogy.  Alright, let's see what I came up with.

For Dr. Elwin Ransom, the protagonist, I choose Ralph Fiennes.

 

For the demonically possessed Professor Weston, I choose Paul Giamatti.

For the Queen of Perelandra, Tinidril, I choose Freida Pinto.

For the king of Perelandra, Tor, I choose Jim Caviezel.

And for Lewis, the narrator, I choose Mark Strong.

New Short Story!!

It has been a very long time since I have written any new short fiction, but I was inspired by feverish dreams I had in the car on my recent road trip to Florida and this story is what came out.  Please let me know what you think.

-Dave

Low Clouds Over the Smoky Mountains

“Indie chicks with southern accents annoy me,” I say to Cheryl. I’m trying to start some sort of conversation here. Honestly, I don’t know why, because any conversation I have with her will inevitably lead to me getting frustrated and lapsing into silence again. Thankfully, she ignores it, mostly because she’s too focused on looking out the window, reading billboards that she finds hilarious. Every oddly named antique shop, every fireworks emporium, every god-forsaken fruit stand. She reads them each aloud, and then claps her hands and giggles. I used to find this charming. Now it just annoys me.
The radio offers no relief. Music is surprisingly lacking this afternoon. It’s just news report after news report. Riots in Manhattan. Some kind of SARS outbreak at an airport in Boston. Homicides in upstate New York. I just want to hear some rock and roll. I spin the tuner until I find a station that comes in static free, but even that won’t drown out my girlfriend.
“Cafe Risque!” She squeals. “Trucker discounts! And Showers!” She rocks back in the passenger seat violently and giggles. I roll my eyes. When we get back to Flint, this is over for good. I’ve been talking to a girl with a nice ass from Detroit on Myspace. She wants to get together next weekend. She doesn’t laugh at every little thing that drifts into her mind. I believe that I am going to have sex with her.
There had been an indie chick working the register at the last stop we made, a BP gas station that didn’t have Slim Jims, so I was already irritated. She had blue in her hair and tight wrinkled jeans that made her look lopsided to me somehow. She thanked me when she handed me my change. Her accent was pretty thick for northern Florida. It made me cringe. She reminded me of Cheryl.
This vacation was supposed to be a way to mend the relationship. Five days of ocean spray, sandy beaches, tropical weather, and theme parks. We went to Sea World two days ago. Cheryl spent what seemed like an hour feeding and petting the shiny gray dolphins in their big tank that was surrounded by fake rocks splattered with bird shit. I stood behind her and watched them swim up begging for fish to be thrown into their mouths. They didn’t look happy and playful to me. They looked sad and desperate flopping and splashing there. The paint on the walls was peeling and flaking into the water. There were scars on their noses and they kept chattering, open mouthed, whining for more fish. It made me sick. They reminded me of her.
Of course, she loved every minute of it.
“What’s with that car?” Cheryl asks. She’s pointing at a silver Sunfire heading south on the opposite side of 75, across the patchy Georgia grass that serves as a median. The car is swerving as it approaches. Other cars on the southbound side are braking, getting out of its way. Suddenly, it swings around and bounces across the median, throwing clumps of dirt and grass up behind it. Cheryl screams, overreacting, making me panic for a second. God, I hate her.
I brake hard and switch lanes. Luggage falls and tumbles around in the back seat, hits my chair. I curse. The Sunfire accelerates, it’s tires screeching. I get one glimpse of a large man in the passenger seat, leaning his forehead against the glass. Dark eyes. Scared eyes. Something looks fundamentally wrong about the guy. It freaks me out a little. Cheryl is still screaming or something, and I tell her to shut up. She does, for once. Thank God.
The Sunfire speeds ahead. It must be doing almost ninety now. I see that it has a New York license plate. It’s in the distance now, disappearing around a curve in the highway, glinting in the sunlight between some pines, and then it’s out of sight.
Cheryl talks about the car for a good ten minutes straight, an unbroken, unfiltered chatter. I’m gripping the steering wheel, willing her to start watching for funny billboards again, read a book, listen to her iPod. Anything that will get her to stop talking because the sound of her voice is unnerving me.
A half an hour slowly slides by and she gradually quiets. I’m enjoying the radio, some Third Eye Blind song, when she says, “Can we stop, hon? I have to pee.” I try to sigh real loud, roll my eyes, somehow convey to her just how much of a pain she is becoming, but she ignores it all and just sort of pouts. How did I ever find that endearing? What was I thinking?
“Fine,” I say. “Might as well fill up. We’re only at half a tank, but whatever.” I draw this out into an exasperated moan. Nothing. It doesn’t even register with her. Why do I even try anymore?
The next exit is in some hick town with one gas station that has a Subway attached. Junk lines a fence behind the pumps, boxes and coils of wires and tubing. I pull in and brake too hard by pump number five. Cheryl groans and hisses at me. “Don’t do it like that. You know I have to pee.” She’s whining again. Damn it.
“Listen,” I say, yanking the keys out of the ignition, “take the keys. I’m definitely locking the car in this place. I’m gonna go pay.” I drop the keys in her lap without waiting for her to take them. She has to be getting the hint by now that her love isn’t being reciprocated. That’s nothing I can tell her outright. She wouldn’t get it, wouldn’t understand that it was over, as quickly and efficiently as a business transaction is over when the money has been exchanged. She would only blubber and weep and tell me about all the good times we had, the nights we went out, the nights we had sex. I see the whole thing happening inevitably, there’s no way around it. My mind follows the paths of the argument I will have to tread to end this tired excuse for a relationship. It gives me a headache already.
Cheryl takes the keys and slams the car door. She stomps off in the direction of the bathrooms. I watch her head to the outbuilding where the women’s bathroom door hangs chipped and pathetic from loose hinges, then I get out and stand beside the car. An old black man in overalls stares at me from the sidewalk with red eyes.
“For Christ’s sake,” I mutter under my breath, and press the automatic lock button. It responds with a reassuring thunk. For a few moments, I stretch the kinks out of my back. I crack my neck. I tug the creases out of my shorts. Hours of sitting in the car have made me sore and damp. Cheryl is still in the bathroom, which is typical, so I decide to go in and pay for some gas, maybe see if they have some Slim Jims.
The silver Sunfire is parked crookedly in front of the store.
It’s the same one from before. I notice the same New York license plate. Slowly, I walk around it and towards the gas station door. The man I noticed before is still in the passenger seat. I can barely see him in the sunlight that is reflecting off of his window, but then my shadow drifts across the glass and I see him clearly for a moment. He’s fat. He has a beard. Dark circles hang under his wide eyes. He stares up at me and he doesn’t look well. Maybe he’s on drugs, or maybe he’s just car sick or something. He puts one hand on the window and I walk by, trying my best to ignore him. He looks tired and a little paranoid. There’s something else, too, but I can’t put my finger on it. Sick freak.
Inside the store, I look for Slim Jims. They have them here, thank God. I grab four because there’s a sale, then I get in line at the counter. There’s a girl in front of me with a nice body, a blonde. She’s skinny, maybe some sort of indie chick because of the gauges in her ears and her red hoodie. Probably she listens to bands like Death Cab For Cutie and writes poetry in a leather journal. That type of person annoys me, but at least she’s hot. She turns slightly and looks out the window, and I see her face.
She’s the driver of the Sunfire. She has the same dark circles under her eyes, the same dull expression of paranoia on her face. She seems nervous, jittery. She keeps glancing back at the Sunfire and biting her lip like she’s worried. One of her hands clutches a bottle of aspirin and a wad of dollar bills. Her other hand is pressed against her side. There is a stain beneath her palm. It looks like blood, maybe, because it’s dark on her hoodie. Everything in me goes cold.
I notice all of this in the minute or so I’m standing behind her in line, and then she’s up at the counter. The plump lady running the cash register eyes the girl warily, then says, “I help you?” The girl’s voice is hoarse as she responds. She sounds sick.
“Just these.” She drops the bills and the aspirin on the counter. The bottle bounces with a rattle. The cashier hesitates, and then takes the money.
“You alright, darlin’?”
“Just... Just these. Just these.” The girl repeats in a faint voice. Maybe figuring that getting involved is too much trouble, or perhaps just not caring, the lady completes the transaction and hands the girl the bottle and her change. She takes it limply, and turns around, almost stumbling into me.
“Sorry,” she says in a wavering whisper. I step back and let her pass. A look of confusion passes between the cashier and I. Bells above the door jingle as the girl exits.
“What was that all about?” The lady asks me as I lay the Slim Jims on the counter. I shrug and smirk, trying to end the conversation. I don’t much feel like talking. For some reason, seeing the girl made me nauseous.
“You think she was on some kind of-”
“Fifteen on pump five and these,” I interrupt her. Unlike Cheryl, this lady gets the hint. She takes my money with a grunt and I take the Slim Jims. The bells above the door jingle when I walk out.
Outside, the sun is bright and Cheryl is just coming out of the bathroom. It seems like she’s been in there forever, like always. Typical Cheryl. My mind positively salivates at the thought of ending it. Images of the girl from Detroit come to me in vivid, debaucherous detail.
To my right sits the Sunfire. I can’t see the man inside. I don’t want to see him or his paranoid eyes again. A sound of something falling makes me turn, and I see the girl stumbling around the corner of the building. I glance back at Cheryl, who is looking at some kind of bird that’s eating garbage off of the pavement. Of course she is.
Without really thinking about it, I follow the sick girl around the corner of the Subway. I don’t intend to help her, I don’t think. The thought of seeing her again at all turns my stomach, but for whatever reason, my feet carry me in her direction until I’m leaning against the brick wall, trying not to appear as if I’m spying. I don’t want the girl to see me watching her, and I really don’t want Cheryl to see me and ask me what I was doing because I don’t want to have to explain everything to her. That would turn into a whole other argument to get through and we still have about twelve hours to go before I can safely dump her, ending three years of irritations and dull sex.
There are woods behind the building, about twenty yards away across a clearing of dead grass. The girl is already under the trees. I watch her red hoodie for a few moments as it disappears in the shadows. It gives me the creeps. She has to be strung out on something to just leave her car and walk off into the woods. I’m about to turn around when something in the grass catches my eye. It’s her bottle of aspirin. She hasn’t opened it, I can see the seal from here.
“Hey, there. Hey, you alright? Oh my God.” That’s Cheryl’s voice. There’s the sound of a car door opening. I turn around and what I see stops me from moving further. My feet are stuck in place.
This is what I see: the passenger door of the Sunfire is open. The fat bearded man is stumbling out, crouched, maybe doubled over in pain. Cheryl is helping him, her hand in the crook of his elbow. Why can’t she just mind her own business? She always wants to get involved, help out, be a part of the latest crisis. Typical Cheryl. I wish I could end it right now. What is wrong with the fat man is that he has no left ear. I think for a second that I’m seeing things, but I’m not. He has no ear. Where his ear should be is a ragged hole. Dried, darkened blood coats the side of his face. His mouth hangs slack and ropey strings of spit droop from his chin.
“Oh God. Oh God.” Cheryl again. Her voice is trembling now like it always does before she launches into a good cry. “Here, sit down on the curb there.” She’s guiding the man to the curb by his arm and he’s clicking his teeth together, biting the air. He moans loud and low in between the horrible clacking sound that he is making. Cheryl glances up and sees me standing here watching. She stops moving and stares back at me. I think that she finally gets it. She knows in that single moment that it’s over between us. I don’t know how she knows, or why I know that she knows, but it’s the truth. I’m not coming to the rescue. I’m not getting involved. I am simply not there. She finally gets that.
“Help me!” She squeals in my direction, and at that moment the man lunges forward and sinks his teeth into her neck. That same expression of concern and annoyance at my inaction stays on her face for a few seconds, even after the blood gushes out. I’m rooted in place. I can’t move and my vision blurs. This isn’t happening. Cheryl’s eyes go wide. Gouts of blood spew onto the man’s face and I realize that he is chewing her neck. She goes down in a heap, bringing the fat man down beside her. He rolls awkwardly onto his back. Blood is everywhere.
“Cheryl,” I say under my breath. I see it ending just like I’ve wanted and all of a sudden, I don’t want it to anymore. This feeling is new and unexpected, and it punctures the bubble of shock that I am encasing myself in. Something in me, some old part of me, revolts to the idea of my girlfriend’s death. The girl from Detroit is a whore. She wouldn’t laugh at funny billboards, or read them aloud so that I could laugh too. She wouldn’t take forever in the bathroom to make sure that she looked good enough to sit in a car next to me for twelve more hours. She wouldn’t talk to birds eating garbage in the parking lot. She wouldn’t get involved. What she would be is another decent lay.
“Cheryl!” I say louder, and it seems the sound of my voice uproots my feet and I’m moving towards her. Not nearly fast enough. Everything is jumbled. It feels like a vice is tightening itself around my head. I can’t think straight. This isn’t what is happening because things like this don’t happen to me. Not to me.
I’m beside Cheryl, looking down at her, before I can start truly panicking. She’s twitching, oh God she’s twitching in her own blood, she’s trying to say something, my name, I think, I want to throw up, I want to run, I want to clean her off, a crowd is gathering, I feel them around me, hear their noise, like birds, like locusts, like beasts. Vultures. Hyenas. Lions. The girl from Detroit. I see keys in Cheryl’s hand, the key ring looped around the finger she hopes I’ll buy a ring for soon. Car keys. My keys. Someone screams. Her eyes are pleading with me, her hand outstretched, the keys dangling from her finger.
I kneel beside her. I take her hand. She registers that I am there and tears pour down her cheeks, mingling with the blood.
Blood gets on my hand.
I slide the keys off of her finger. I drop her hand. Blood is everywhere. I rise to my feet. Blood is everywhere. I back away. People are gathering, the fat man is on his feet again. He’s moaning, flailing his arms. People are screaming. Blood is everywhere. I’m running to my car. Blood is on my hand. I’m at the door. It’s locked. I try to unlock it. Blood is on the door. I drop the keys. There is so much noise behind me that I can’t think. There is blood on my hands. I pick up the keys, get one in the lock. The noise behind me is coming closer. My breath is a panicked wheeze in my ears. A man runs by the car. It’s the wrong key. I try another one. It slides in. It’s the right key. I’m in the car. Blood is on my hands. Blood is everywhere. The key is in the ignition, the car roars to life, the sound is terrifying. I floor it. The car runs up over the curb and I point it towards the highway.
There is still blood on my hands.
It’s getting dark by the time I reach Tennessee. I’m still heading north. Heading home. There’s a girl in Detroit who wants me to come visit her this weekend, but I don’t want to see her or have sex with her. The road ahead of me is shrouded in fog, and pine covered cliffs rise up on either side, dark and menacing. The radio doesn’t play songs anymore. Most of the people on the stations that still come in talk about depressing things and use words like “outbreak” and “terrorist” and “death toll”. I can’t find any good music, and what I need right now is good music because there’s still some of Cheryl’s blood on my hands. Any second, I expect the fat man with the beard to shamble out of the darkness and into the road, paranoid eyes gleaming like an animal’s in my headlights. I’m speeding, no longer caring to drive safely. I haven’t seen any other cars going south for about an hour now.
The radio won’t tell me what’s happening back home. It won’t tell me about Cheryl. A weatherman on one radio station tells me to watch out because there are low clouds over the Smoky Mountains tonight. I don’t listen to him. Somewhere, a couple hundred miles behind me, a girl I don’t love but who loved me nonetheless is lying dead. A few hundred miles ahead of me, there is a girl who doesn’t love me that is waiting for my call.
I can’t see very well because there is still blood on my hands and the clouds are low over the Smoky Mountains.

Quickie Oscar Review

Hugh Jackman is okay.

Tina Fey and Steve Martin making fun of Scientology = BURN.

Also Ben Stiller's Joaquin Phoenix impersonation was hilarious.

Freida Pinta from Slumdog is beautiful.

Streep and Rourke got royally shafted.

Politics managed to stay out of it until Sean Penn got up there, and for that I want to pummel him about the head.

People clapping for themselves annoy me.

Slumdog deserves everything it got.

The Oscars take too damn long to get to the point.

Also, Wall-E is awesome.

the end

On Hiatus for Vaca...

I know I said I'd be posting from Florida, but it's a bit harder to get that done than previously thought due to... well due to the fact that it's Florida and it's warm and being outside or just relaxing is much more fun than trying to review 7 films, the Academy Awards, some cds, and write some new fiction.   So I'm not gonna even try.  Expect all that excellent stuff in a week or so, when I'm back to being cold and alone in my Michigan bedroom.  Now, off to stare at some palm trees and listen to Meshuggah, which is what I've been doing so far today.

Until next time,

Dave

Working late...

Maybe it was the lame attempt at humor, or the off-putting accusations hidden behind it, like dirty secrets whispered in hallways at classy parties. I think it was probably a little bit of both. The whole idea became very sickening to me after I emerged from the world of evangelical Bible colleges and youth group retreats and prayer meetings and standing on soapboxes on liberal street corners to shout down the devil. It was billboard evangelism, t-shirt slogan witnessing. Branded salvation. Religion was becoming a business, and where was my Christ to weave a whip and turn over the money changers’ tables? How low can one religion sink? I’d never heard of a faith carrying an idea to such an absurd and pointless end. Where were the clever marquees posted outside of buddhist temples? What wit did the local synagogue or mosque have to offer?

Work on the novel is speeding up. I'm pretty stoked.

If it were a movie...

I thought up something fun that I might do here every once in a while, called IF IT WERE A MOVIE...

Basically I will be taking books that I enjoy and that will probably never see a film adaption and putting forth my ideas of a perfect actor for each character were it to ever become a movie.  For the first one, I'm going to be casting a book only about two people who check this page out will ever read: The Spinal Cord Perception by Joshua Stephen Porter.  Let's see how it works out.

First of all, for the lead role of the cynical and probably somewhat deranged substitute teacher, David Rivers, I choose Jeremy Sisto.

For the beautiful, endearing love of his life, Samantha, I choose Zooey Deschanel.

For Chloe, the young mother to be, I choose Kelly Macdonald.

For Gregg, the friend who actually cares, I choose Justin Long.

For Emma, David's doomed California girlfriend, I choose Anne Hathaway.

For Brett, the obnoxious and vile sexaholic, I choose Jared Leto.

For Charlie, who's promiscuity turns him into a lizard, I choose James Marsden.

For Jack, the pornographically addicted chain smoking boss, I choose Charles Durning.

And just for fun, I would cast the author himself, Joshua Stephen Porter, as a singer in a band and a friend of Emma's who frequents clubs in California.  It would be a cameo role.

Unique Monsters

“Do you know what the Sinner’s Prayer really is?” I was speaking, but the words were suddenly very much Liverpool’s. I’d had about as much as I could stand of church language and salvation idioms and I wanted him out of here. I could take no more of his scripted lines lifted directly from evangelical pamphlets. I just wanted a moment or two of silence again. “It’s the spiritual one night stand. You’ll seduce me, screw me, and leave in the morning before I can even get your name. You probably won’t even leave me a cab fare. You make me sick.”

Work on In Name Only continues slowly, but steadily.

More reviews in the countdown coming soon.  Look for the final Davies to be announced and a reaction to the Academy Awards soon after the ceremony, most likely from my sunny vacation spot in Florida.

Toodles.

Fifteen...

Recently I did a couple of list things on facebook, and they were pretty fun and fit the idea of this blog rather well so I thought I'd post them here.

Fifteen books that impacted my life:

1. Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton
My love for books began here. This was the first true novel I ever read, and despite it's lofty scientific language, I read all the way through it at age six. Since then, and I'm not joking, I have read it over forty times. If I hadn't discovered this book, would I be as obsessed with reading and writing as I am now? I like to assume so, but who knows?

2. The Oath by Frank Peretti
My mom sometimes asks me why all of my writing is dark and filled with evil imagery and often gory scenes. The answer is, I read a lot of Peretti when I was young. This book is as close to Stephen King level horror as you can get out of the mainstream Christian fiction market, and it started me down a dark path that lead me to a love of violence and degradation, and eventually redemption, in fiction.

3. Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller
This is the one book I can point to and say, "This book changed my life completely." When I read it I was drifting along in life, bitter towards religion and church and feeling like a generally terrible Christian. When I read this I felt like I'd come home. I haven't been the same since.

4. Choke by Chuck Palahniuk
Choke was my first introduction to the idea that there were different forms of narrative out there, and more interesting ones at that. Palahniuk is now my favorite author due in large part to a classmate in college telling me to get this book and read it immediately. His characters are so real, his tone so conversational, and his stories so dark... it's everything I strive to write.

5. Less Than Zero by Brett Easton Ellis
This book laid out so much utter depravity that it was almost hard to finish, but it was one of those books with an ending so fraught with meaning and subtext that it makes wading through the hopeless emptiness worth it. Multiple times.

6. The Spinal Cord Perception by Joshua Stephen Porter
This book changed the way I look at what a person can do with Christian fiction. It is very daring, and it hits you right in the gut. I found myself relating to the main character in many ways, even though I was loath to do so. This was also the first time I read something in a book and had to put it down because it was so horrific that I was brought nearly to tears. TSCP drags you through the ugliest things humanity has to offer, and then gently places you in the most beautiful... but even then you aren't safe.

7. The Stand by Stephen King
Burn all of the Left Behind books, they are pretty much crap. Stephen King is the only author I've found who got a tale of Christian-themed post-apocalyptic chaos right. This book is absolutely massive, and the 1200 pages contain some pretty revolting, heart wrenching, disturbing, heroic, and redemptive stuff.

8. Perelandra by C.S. Lewis
I never really understood how allegory can be used until I read Lewis. In this book he did it better than he ever did anyplace else, even with the Narnia books. It's written very much in the style of the old school pulp sci-fi I was into in my high school years, and it's actually pretty brutal and scary in parts, with a message that knocked my socks off. Man, I need to re-read this.

9. Anthem of a Reluctant Prophet by Joanne Proulx
I picked up this book because it had a cool indie-film type cover, and was about a kid who inadvertently predicts death. Sounded goofy to me, but what I actually got was this dark, sorrowful, and moving tale of a teenager trying to sort out his emotions and feelings on God and love. At one point he feels a dying infant pass through him, and that passage in the book nearly took my breath away. It's also set in Michigan and has cameos by the Palace of Auburn Hills and the Red Hot Chili Peppers, amongst a slew of other music trivia. Such a good book. (it IS very funny, by the way)

10. Churched by Matthew Paul Turner
What I liked about this book was that it was pretty much my life written out for me, although I will admit Turner's was a bit more crazy due to having weirder parents. Anyone who grew up in an evangelical home would relate to this amusing memoir.

11. Jaws by Peter Benchley
This was one of the first "horror" books that I was allowed to read as a child, and it was fairly graphic for a nine year old, I'd say. In any case, I loved it and it jump-started my fascination with horror stories. On a side note, the movie tie in novelizations for the second and fourth movies are AMAZINGLY good. They are nothing like the movies and are written just as well, if not better, than the Benchley original!

12. Skeleton Crew by Stephen King
I love short stories, and this is the best collection of short stories I've ever come across. It is also notable in that it is the only book I can recall actually scaring me to the point where I decided to put it down and wait until daylight to continue. Freaky stuff.

13. At Earth's Core by Edgar Rice Burroughs
If there was ever the fiction equivalent to saturday morning matinee science fiction, it was in Burroughs' works. This is neither a particularly well written or noteworthy novel, especially when considering the author created the Tarzan character, but I loved it as a kid and have first editions of the entire series. I love old dinosaur books.

14. The Island of Dr. Moreau by H.G. Wells
Wells' stories are, to put it bluntly, pretty screwed up for old science fiction classics written in the early part of the 20th century. This one is the most cracked out with it's vivisection and mad scientist and terror and isolation and hopelessness and beast people and hints of bestiality... I could go on. It disturbed me to no end when I read it in middle school.

15. House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
This book isn't necessarily the best thing ever written, but it's beautiful to look at and has an amazing concept. I mean, to describe it accurately would take a long time, but it's basically an edited release of a research book created from a shot by shot description of a mysterious film. There's an entire plotline played out in the footnotes, for goodness sake. I couldn't take it all in by the end, but the core story, that being the mysterious film, is interesting and actually quite terrifying. The way the actual visual elements of type and color and spacing work with the story is very unique, and pleases me.

Fifteen albums that impacted my life:

1. Showbread - No, Sir, Nihilism Is Not Practical
After much deliberation, this may have to be named my favorite album of all time. When I first heard it, I thought it was spastic and weird, but mildly entertaining and I bought it because I liked to have weird bands that might gain me points among my peers (I went to a sheltered Christian school, and it didn't work so well). "No, Sir..." is just absolutely amazing. So energetic with the dueling vocals, and then there's the very deep lyrics, catchy songs, and moving ballads. It's so perfect. I love every second of it, and go through periods every month or so where I listen to it for a few days nonstop.

2. Beloved - Failure On
Beloved will always be the perfect hardcore-with-melodies band for me. They were just so solid in everything they did, with such beautiful choruses and moving lyrics. I don't think I know anyone who doesn't appreciate this band in some way.

3. DC Talk - Intermission: The Greatest Hits
This was the only DC Talk album I ever purchased myself.  It introduced me to the band and for about 3 years in middle school it was all I listened to. This album is probably one of the best examples of Gospel done right, with influences from almost every genre, and some of the most memorable songs I've ever heard.

4. Say Anything - In Defense of the Genre
A friend introduced me to this band, and at first I was very "meh" on them. They were neither here nor there for me. Then I took a listen to this album, and what I heard blew me away. Nobody seems to give this band a chance because they have this poppy scene fangirl reputation for some reason, and because it seems like all their songs are funny sex joke songs. None of this is true. The songs on this cd can be humorous, and they do have that edge in the music. They are usually very smart ass, lyrically and vocally, but the songs themselves are really quite deep. Most are stories of drug abuse, depression, abusive relationships, and murder, all told through the eyes of a dude who tries to have a sense of humor about life. This album is never far out of earshot for me.

5. Death Cab For Cutie - Transatlanticism
Somewhere in the midst of thinking metal was the only good music, this album dropped into my earholes and changed everything. Something about Ben Gibbard's voice and the cadence of the songs turned something around inside of me, and I'd find myself dialing my bulky old mp3 player to the album and falling asleep to it many nights in a row. So very soothing.

6. Every Time I Die - Gutter Phenomenon
Sometimes you hear an album and the whole thing just clicks and you go, "Yeah, that's what music is for me." That was Gutter Phenomenon. Utterly amazing in every facet. One of my other regular spins.

7. Demon Hunter - Self-titled
I'm not as much into Demon Hunter anymore as I was in high school, but I credit this album for turning me away from radio rock and towards the world of heavy metal in it's various sub-genres. I heard the song "Screams of the Undead" and for a year or two afterward, Demon Hunter was the king of music in my world.

8. Emery - The Weak's End
This is the only album I can think of that I can sing along to word for word beginning to end. Every song is executed perfectly, especially in the vocal department, and even if it's your first time hearing them, by the end of the first song you are singing along.

9. Murder By Death - Who Will Survive and What Will Be Left Of Them?
I never gave a second glance to folksy, country, twangy anything until I borrowed this from a friend. It opened up a whole new world for me.

10. Great Lakes Myth Society - Compass Rose Bouquet
About 6 months ago, I started daydreaming about a theoretical band that would make a whole new sound specific to the northern states(northern rock), with it's own drawl and twang no one else had thought of. This band would be based out of Michigan and sing songs inspired by the history and legends of Michigan and what it was like to live here in the wonderful summers and harsh winters. A couple of months later and my friend Alycia says, "Have you ever heard of Great Lakes Myth Society?" Nuff said.

11. Haste the Day - Burning Bridges
I LOVED this band the first time I saw them live on the Solid State Tour in 2004. I couldn't stop talking about them and annoyed all of my friends. I wasn't that into music that was primarily made up of harsh growling before then. I bought the album at Cornerstone that year and never looked back.

12. Killswitch Engage - The End of Heartache
This album is nostalgic for me in that I vividly remember purchasing it on a whim at Best Buy with money I'd earned working part time at a candy store. I listened to it and headbanged every time I drove home from work in my parents' car.

13. Manchester Orchestra - I'm Like A Virgin Losing A Child
Sometimes, the lyrics alone click with me so well that an album elevates itself from simply great, to absolutely amazing. The songs about being bitter with the Church and struggling with faith all struck home for me, and made this one of my favorites.

14. Maylene and the Sons of Disaster - Self-titled
In the winter of 2005, a friend of mine told me that I should check out this "fun" band and burned me a copy. At the time, I was working at a dog kennel and would drive home in the freezing weather, smelling of wet dog. This album made the drives bearable. Southern metal is now one of my favorite genres, and the Sons do it right, do it loud, and do it fun. The album never gets old, and neither does it's counterpart, "II".

15. Norma Jean - Oh God, The Aftermath
I bought my first Norma Jean album (Bless the Martyr and Kiss the Child) because there was a two for one deal on underground metal at FYE and I'd heard enough people in my circle praising them, so I thought I'd give it a shot. I liked it well enough to check out their next effort, which absolutely knocked me on my ass. Every detail of this album is perfect. From the artwork, which won a freaking Grammy by the way, to every little guitar bend and vocal intake. Start to finish, hands down the best album I have personally heard, in my humble opinion.

Neat!

First I make an appearance in the Showbread dvd, and then today I hear from the man himself, Josh Dies, that he liked my illustration of his work (pictured partially in the previous post) so much, that he decided to put it up on his own myspace page. When will my 15 minutes of fame end?

Some new artwork...

Did an illustration of a creature from the novel The Spinal Cord Perception by Joshua Stephen Porter.  Thought I'd Share.

Number Eight

Body of Lies

Director: Ridley Scott

Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Russel Crowe

I will probably touch on this in later reviews as we get closer to the number one spot (hint hint), but it has to be said here: I love Leo! Back in the day, that was something only grade school girls and boys who got beat up at recess said, but after seeing his performances in the last few years (and also coming to acknowledge the greatness of his earlier works) I have to say, I really love Leonardo Dicaprio. He is one of the finest actors alive today. Take any so-so plot and pump it full of Leo, you have yourself a winning cinematic endeavor. This is what happened with Body of Lies.

I’ll take the plot directly from imdb.com because it was just too perfect:

Roger Ferris (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a covert CIA operative working in Jordan searching for terrorists who have been bombing civilian targets. Ferris uncovers information on the Islamist mastermind Al-Saleem (Alon Aboutboul). He devises a plan to infiltrate Al-Saleem's terrorist network with the help of his boss back in Langley, Ed Hoffman (Russell Crowe). Ferris enlists the help of the Chief of Jordanian Intelligence, Hani Salaam (Mark Strong) on this operation, but he doesn't know how far he can trust him without putting his life in danger. The uneasy alliance leads to a cultural and moral clash between the men.

The three main actors really interact wonderfully in the movie.  I especially liked Strong and Dicaprio’s scenes.  Russel was just irritating (as his character was meant to be), so he was a good counterbalance to the likable Ferris and mysterious Hani Salaam.   The plot was decent, and the chase scene with the Helicopters towards the beginning was downright cool, but without the cast I don’t think this movie would have made my top ten, let alone a spot at number eight. It was fairly elegantly directed and I have no real complaints, but I believe that the film definitely benefitted mostly from the extra oomph the cast gave it.  Based on the performances that were a complete joy to witness, Body of Lies gets number eight.

See me on dvd!

If you have an opportunity to see or purchase the documentary "How Showbread Ruined My Life", you may notice a familiar bearded (and extremely handsome) face.  On disc two, during the "You Can't Save Yourself Tour" live footage, you can catch me rocking out in the crowd at the Cornerstone 2008 encore show.  And by rocking out, I mean staring at the stage like I want to see it erupt into flames.  I am apparently the most intense, stoic concert attendee in history.  Anyways, check it out!

Josh Dies Live and The Insect Review

As some of you may know, one of my personal heroes is Joshua Stephen Porter, otherwise known by his stage name of Josh DIES.  He is the frontman for the bands Showbread and DIES, as well as a member of the punk band Knife To Meet You and the band Thieves Guild.  He is also an author, with two self published books under his belt: 2006's The Spinal Cord Perception and the newly released children's book, The Insect.  I consider Porter to be the avant garde of Christian art and culture.  His work is disturbing and thought provoking, and overall heartfelt.  It's nothing like anything else I've encountered from a Christian artist.  This week I had the opportunity not only to see him live, but also meet and talk with him for a bit in Grand Rapids.

His live set consisted of jocular conversations with the audience, acoustic covers of the more calm Showbread songs from the past years, and selected readings from his work.  It was an enlightening night.  He is a funny guy, quite adept at charming the audience.   The highlight of the night was his reading from his upcoming work, Nevada.  After months of speculation, he finally revealed a bit of the plot.  Apparently, a hole opens in the Nevada desert, and creatures pour out into the world, which changes drastically overnight as a result.  When I spoke with him after the show, he told me that he hopes to see the book released after recording of Showbread's new cd, The Fear of God, is completed.  This is especially exciting for me, as his first novel changed my perceptions of what a Christian author could accomplish.  

At the show, I was able to purchase his newly released Children's book, entitled The Insect.  You can tell that the book was hastily self printed, which I have little problem with.  To me, it in fact adds to the charm (and if he ever gets huge in the literature world, perhaps it's value).  The story is short, and slightly weird and dark and fraught with meaning as is Porter's MO.  Basically, it is an allegory of Christ's love for humanity, and His death and resurrection.  I loved the story, and I think it would be excellent as a fully illustrated hardcover.  Even as it is, it's a touching story, cute in a disturbing way.  If you're someone with kids and want a very straightforward way to talk to them about the Christian faith through story, this is definitely the book for you.  To me, it was a nice little addition to my obsession with all things Joshua Stephen Porter.  Now I must wait with baited breath to pre-order my copy of Nevada.

Number Nine

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Director: David Fincher

Starring: Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett




The Curious Case of Benjamin Button has gone back and forth on my top ten list for the last few days. The problem was, it was not as in your face intense as some of the other movies, in neither acting nor plot. It is a much more subtle film in all respects. This is not to say it isn’t an amazing piece of cinema, though.

If you don’t know already, the film concerns the life of a man stricken with a disorder that causes him to age backwards. He is born with the ailments usually associated with the elderly and grows younger and younger until he finally becomes an infant in his old age. The concept of his disorder takes a back seat, however, to the love story that is at the core of the film. Raised in a nursing home, Benjamin falls in love as a young boy with the granddaughter of a resident. We follow them as they find and lose each other over the course of time, finally meeting “in the middle” when their ages balance out in their forties.

First of all, I don’t think you can see this movie and not be impressed by the makeup. Almost every character in the movie is shown at more than one era in their life, and there isn’t a moment where you don’t believe they are actually decades older than when you last saw them. The story is slow, and action is lacking, but that is to be expected and fits the type of movie this is trying to be quite well. All in all, it has a very Forrest Gump meets Big Fish feel. The colors are all golden and quiet, and the editing gives the whole picture a soft feel.

The performances reflect this sensation you get while watching the movie. Brad Pitt is astounding not because he has emotional and intense scenes, but because he plays a character at every stage in his life. Through his mannerisms and facial expression, he imbues the younger Benjamin with child-like wonder that is truly believable. His slow discovery of the world plays out successfully due in large part to Pitt’s performance. Cate Blanchett is a wonder to behold as well, although her acting somehow manages to be even more subtle. All of this subtlety makes it hard to place this film. Other performances of the year were much more riveting and intense, and thus are more memorable, but I can’t completely abandon this film because it is an excellent character study of a boy growing up under fantastic circumstances.

In the end, it is the amazing makeup effects combined with the lead performances that set The Curious Case of Benjamin Button squarely at number nine.

THE TOP TEN

For the next few weeks leading up to the announcement of the 2008 film that will be awarded the Davie for Best Picture, I will be counting down the top ten films of the year.  Every few days I will post another in depth review, until we reach awards night on February 22nd.  

Before we get into the meat of this, let me say that I am judging these films based on... 

1) How good they were as films, including the directing, acting, writing, cinematography, and score etc.

2) How much I enjoyed them.  For example, while The Reader is nominated in many categories at the major award shows this year, I simply did not enjoy it that much, and thus it did not make the cut for my top ten films of 2008.  This list is based mostly on what films were my favorites, not necessarily always on how good they were as films.  Keep that in mind.

Now then, on to the reviews, beginning with number 10.

The tenth best movie of the year is...........

IN BRUGES

Written and Directed by: Martin McDonagh

Starring: Colin Farrel, Brendan Gleeson, and Ralph Fiennes

In Bruges is a movie of stark contrasts. Everything from the setting, to the characters, to the dialogue between them echoes a recurring theme of contrast. In addition, the audience should have a strongly contrasting reaction to the film. On the one hand, it’s a witty shoot ‘em up that is slightly reminiscent of Guy Ritchie’s English gangster catalog. On the other hand, it is a powerful and emotional study of guilt, penance, morality, and friendship.

In the film, two hit men are sent to a small Belgium town called Bruges where they await their next orders while sightseeing. They are Ray, played by Farrel, and Ken, played by Gleeson. Ray is new to this game of killing for money, having botched his first job in such a horrific manner that he is still an emotional wreck. He is portrayed as somewhat of a spoiled child, and at times during the movie he scuffs his feet and pouts. Much of his dialogue, especially early on, is made up of primarily whining. Ken, on the other hand, is a laid back professional with a love for history who is determined to enjoy himself in Bruges despite Ray’s misgivings. When the orders finally come in from boss Harry, played fiendishly well by Ralph Fiennes, the story picks up pace and many dark secrets are revealed.

What struck me most about the film is the fluctuating feelings I had while watching it. One minute I’d be grinning at the foul mouthed, accented arguments between Ray and Ken, and the next minute I’d be horrified speechless by a scene of violence so fraught with meaning and emotion that I had to pause the film for a second and consider what I had just seen. As I said earlier, contrast is a recurring theme in the film. Ray and Ken are an odd couple, one likable and polite, the other childish and abrasive. The titular setting, a small medieval hamlet built on a thriving tourism industry, sits in stark contrast to a plot usually seen taking place in a larger city. The plot itself is a wicked combination of criminal comedy and disturbingly dark morality tale that pulls the audience in so many directions that one person’s reactions at the close of the film may differ with each viewing.

Farrel and Gleeson give an emotion-packed performance, and their chemistry is charming to behold. They have fun with the roles. Farrel especially impressed me with his portrayal of a man wracked with guilt who tries to drown his sorrows in drugs and alcohol, and even romance, while at the same time attempting to mask his emotions with irascible wit and a tough guy attitude. Gleeson is respectable in the back and forth dialogue and downright touching when the pacing slows and he is allowed to hold the scene captive. Ralph Fiennes is scary and humorous, but somehow almost endearing despite being the “villain” of the story. Even Peter Dinklage gives a nice performance as a drug addicted dwarf actor with whom Ray becomes oddly obsessed.

All in all, this film impressed me. It raised the bar for this type of film. For Colin Farrel’s performance and the movie’s stunning combination of humor, emotion, and darkness, In Bruges is awarded tenth best movie of the year.

Check back soon to see which film made number 9!

And the Nominees are...

Well folks, looks like the nominations are slowly rolling in.  I only have a partial list so far, as the Davie Academy (picture me in sweatpants watching movies on my computer) has yet to view some of the top contenders.  For now, here are the current nominations for some of the awards.  Many, many more will come as we approach the final decision.

Best Picture

Doubt

Revolutionary Road

Slumdog Millionaire

Choke


Body of Lies


The Curious Case of Benjamin Button


Gran Torino


The Wrestler


In Bruges


The Visitor

Actor in a Leading Role
Mickey Rourke for The Wrestler
Sam Rockwell for Choke
Clint Eastwood for Gran Torino
Colin Ferrel for In Bruges
Leonardo DiCaprio for Revolutionary Road
Richard Jenkins for The Visitor

Actor in a Supporting Role
Heath Ledger for The Dark Knight
Robert Downey Jr. for Charlie Bartlett
Brad Pitt for Burn After Reading
Aaron Eckhart for The Dark Knight

Phillip Seymour Hoffman for Doubt

Actress in a Lead Role
Sally Hawkins for Happy Go Lucky
Meryl Streep for Doubt
Kate Winslet for Revolutionary Road
Nicole Kidman for Australia

Angelina Jolie for The Changeling

Actress in a Supporting Role
Ellen Page for Smart People
Marissa Tomei for The Wrestler
Amy Adams for Doubt.
Hiam Abbass for The Visitor

Kelly Macdonald for Choke

Visual Effects and Makeup
Tropic Thunder
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Dark Knight
The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian
Iron Man

Hellboy II: The Golden Army

Cinematography

Slumdog Millionaire

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

The Wrestler

Revolutionary Road

The Dark Knight

Screenwriting
In Bruges
Choke
The Wrestler
Gran Torino
Wall-E

Doubt

Revolutionary Road

Happy Go Lucky

Directing

Slumdog Millionaire

The Wrestler

Choke

Revolutionary Road

Gran Torino

Best Animated Feature

Wall-E

Bolt

Horton Hears a Who

Kung Fu Panda

Best Animated Short

Oktapodi

Presto

Lavatory (Love Story)

The DAVIES have arrived!!!

It's that time of year again, a time for reflecting on all that has gone on in the past year.  First off, let's look at the year in music.  Here are my picks for the best albums released in 2008, as well as some awards of my own choosing.

The Davey for . . .

Best vocals:  Murder By Death - Red of Tooth and Claw

Best breakdowns:  Once Nothing - First Came the Law

Catchiest pop songs:  MGMT - "Electric Feel"

Most brutal metal album:  With Blood Comes Cleansing - Horror

Most creative album:  Showbread - Anorexia/Nervosa

Best album to drive to on a summer's day:  TIE Once Nothing - First Came the Law and MGMT - Oracular Spectacular

Most overrated album:  Underoath - Lost in the Sound of Separation

Most underrated album:  P.O.D. - When Angels and Serpents Dance

Best club/dance/party music:  TIE Neon Neon - Stainless Style and Family force 5 - Dance or Die

And now, for the 

TOP TEN ALBUMS of 2008!

10. Becoming the Archetype - Dichotomy

Back to the old way of doing things and I love it.

9. The Showdown - Back Breaker

Never headbanged so hard in my life.

8. Cold War Kids - Loyalty To Loyalty

I keep putting these guys on and just grooving at night.

7. MGMT - Oracular Spectacular

Catchiest songs ever.  When you hear a song and you are SURE it was a classic you've been hearing your whole life, you know the album is a winner.

6. Once Nothing - First Came the Law

Nothing beats stanky-ass southern hardcore with completely awesome breakdowns.

5. Death Cab For Cutie - Narrow Stairs

Never cease to amaze me.  This band is the musical equivalent of a cultured college town or a stroll through Chicago.  Plus the singer is totally doing Zooey Deschanel.  Lucky bastard.

4. Advent - Remove the Earth

Imagine a steamroller covered in spikes racing towards you doing 65.  Yeah.

3. The Black Keys - Attack and Release

Masterful rock and roll that is all summer cruisin' and kick-ass gangster flick.

2. Murder By Death - Red of Tooth and Claw

Johnny Cash vocals through the roof and dirty western twang.  What's not to love?

1. La Dispute - Somewhere at the Bottom of the River Between Vega and Altair

Imagine everything that is good about every style of rock, from indie to pop to metal to spoken word to classical to everything in between.  Now imagine you can hear it all compressed on one disc.  This is it.

I just peed a little...

Apparently, Chuck Palahniuk will be putting out a nonfiction book on the craft of writing in spring of 2010.  I NEED this.

MORE Recipes From a Guy Who Can't Cook!

Dave's Patented Peppery Paster Tacos

Ingredients:

1lb ground beef

diced green pepper

diced tomatoes

diced onion

diced garlic

black pepper

chili powder

cayenne pepper

shredded cheese

crushed tortilla chips

Directions:

Brown the meat in a skillet on medium heat.  Add the cayenne pepper, chili powder, and black pepper to the meat and stir it in.  Then add the diced garlic, tomatoes, peppers, and onions.  Stir them around for a bit to let the meat absorb the flavors.  Add the shredded cheese and crushed tortilla chips.  Stir the concoction until the cheese is melted throughout.  Put the stuff into tortillas or use as a chip dip.  Delicious!

New series for a new year!

Introducing...

RECIPES FROM A GUY WHO CAN'T COOK!

I can't cook.  At least not well.  But in a fumbling sort of way I've come across stuff I've created that I enjoy eating and think that other people in my same predicament (large loser without a girlfriend or cooking talent) will enjoy as well.  First off, here's what I had for supper tonight!

The Super Sloppy Spicy Sandwich

One pound ground beef.

Onions.

Peppers.

Shredded Cheese (whichever kind you like)

Chili Powder.

Cayenne Pepper.

Mrs. Dash Original Blend.

Barbecue Sauce (I used 'Thick and Spicy').

Wheat bread.

Note:  There are now specific amounts to add, just whatever you think will taste good.  So everything is 'to taste' I guess you'd say.

Directions (if you can call them that)

Okay so basically I threw the meat in the skillet and cooked it up until it was mostly brown.  While I did this I added the various spices listed above.  When the meat was very close to being done, I tossed in a bunch of chopped onions, the cheese, the peppers, and the barbecue sauce.  I finished cooking it, letting the onions get a little brown and the cheese completely melt into the meat.  Then I put it on some toast bread and topped it with horseradish mustard and regular yellow mustard.  It was very tasty and spicy.  

The Healthy Homemade Smoothie

Large bag of frozen fruit of any variety (I used the basic mixed fruit variety)

Club Soda

Milk

Vanilla extract.

Directions

Basically, just throw all of the ingredients into a blender.  First the fruit, which should fill about 3/4 of the blender.  Then the milk which should fill to about halfway.  The club soda comes next, filling up the rest of the blender.  Add a splash of the vanilla extract, then blend it until it is a consistency you desire.  If you don't feel like being as healthy as I do, add some sugar.  You can also add juice instead of the milk to add some flavor.  It's not a super tasty treat, but it's healthy and refreshing.  And it goes well with the barbecue sandwiches!