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Well, it's up and I'm still alive -- and that's saying something. It's been a battle of wills, Garageband's vs. me (Will) for the last 8 hours. It would delete a track, I'd re-record, it would delete another track, I'd record two just in case, it would substitute one track for another in a snidely way that only a machine would try.... but I digress. The point is that it's up.
Again, it would be a great favor to us all if any of you find the time to check it out and make sure I didn't miss anything glaring. I hope you enjoy this episode; it is a bit more polished than its predecessor.
Episode II of the Sound of Starfiction Podcast
Also available on iTunes and through the the rss feed.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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How much material has been recorded for the Sound of Starfiction Podcast? Why, so much that we've had to jettison some of it.
One of the cuts that made us all sad was the loss of a silly fake children's song called "Captain Flapjack." The joke was supposed to appear in Episode I but we thought it would get in the way of the "Political Endorsement" song.
Thanks to the power of the Internet and Garageband you can give Captain Flapjack a listen at Lafferty's "artiste" Myspace.
The next episode should be up around tax time for you US-types and we promise it will be worse than the last one.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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I wanted to thank everyone who has subscribed to the Sound of Starfiction. We woke up one morning and people were actually listening to the the thing!!!
We've already started the recording for Episode II and will get that out there for you shortly.
In related news, after much arguing, cast member Lafferty Fitzroy, who is too lazy to use his LJ, has agreed to set up a Myspace profile -- Go friend at him! If you don't remember who he is, and who can blame you, Lafferty hosts Culture Shock, sings the Political Endorsement and wrote/performed most of Jack the Ripper Walks into a Bar.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Thursday, March 23rd, 2006
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The Sound of Starfiction Podcast is now online. The pretty stuff hasn't been done yet, but the audiofile itself is available. I have not yet been able to try it out on anything besides a Mac so if any of you PC users would like to give it a once-over it would be greatly appreciated.
I hope to unveil it in the ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) heman journal this weekend... Oh, I forgot to say, it does include a previously unreleased He-post as well.
Thank you in advance.
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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Well, what is it? Almost a month now? But the Sound of Starfiction podcast has been recorded, mixed and sits on my own iPod.
Now all we have to do it turn it into some kind of RSS feed madness and get it to you guys.
Oh, and it went from a planned 10-12 minutes to a 24 minutes 40 seconds monster. Sorry.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Saturday, February 25th, 2006
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| Subject: | In the Works |
| Time: | 12:31 am. |
| Mood: | resigned. | | Music: | Starfiction says: I heard you on the wireless back in '52. |
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I get some of my best ideas when shaving. Usually I avoid the ritual for that very reason.
But, I am shorn and sadly, all idea-ed up.
Expect great things. Timetable next month. The Sound of Starfiction is slated to go live.
I knew I could have stood a few more days of stubble.
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Monday, January 26th, 2004
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Should Will:
A) finish writing 30 episodes of He-Man
B) re-edit any of the dozen "Starfiction" entries lying on the floor
C) launch ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) onedayoneternia
D) come up with the plot to Book III of the Space Trilogy
E) organize Westward Bound: Frontiers of Bondage
F) type up Chapter 3 of fantasyfiction
G) come up with a pitch for a show for the Muppets not involving slaves
or...
H) figure out how to get a full-time job?
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Comments: Read 6 or Add Your Own.
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Sunday, January 11th, 2004
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I've had this idea that I've been kickin' around for a while. I'm not sure if it would really work though. Go check it out at onedayoneternia if you have time.
Don't sign up for it yet, but let me know if you think it's worth trying out.
He-Man
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, January 3rd, 2004
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A Day on the Set of He-Man: the LiveJournal
by Liam O'Toole
I arrived early and the press liaison had me hop into the back of a golf cart right off.
"Hold on tight! We're shooting down at the Slime Pit today, and this is the easiest way to get there."
I just nodded my head and watched in amazement as the facades of Castle Grayskull, Snake Mountain and Zodac's Comic Shop whizzed by. It was beyond bizarre to see these landmarks loom familiarly over me only to suddenly transform into exposed fronts propped up by a few two-by-fours. My guide chanced a peek at me and chuckled, "Yeah, does that to everyone."
The Slime Pit was lit with more lights than any place outside Joan Crawford's bathroom could endure. The scene was surreal: Beast-Man (actor Chino Armstrong) was flaunting a pair of pleated wrinkle-free slacks at a 6-foot-tall inflatable Godzilla. The crew were all sitting around taping various electrical wires together or drinking union coffee. Ribby Wimpleman, better known as Mer-Man, had brought his kids to the set (Sarah, 6; Sport, 4). He was trying to explain to them about how an episode was filmed, but they just wanted to see Battlecat.
My initial confusion was cleared up a bit when Norwegian director Geir Olafson explained (through an interpreter) that they were blocking a scene in which Beast-Man confronted Hordak, who would be filled in over Godzilla with CGI in post-production.
As things began to make sense to me, I watched in amusement as Armstrong became more and more confused by the script.
"What the hell am I supposed to be doing here again?"
Babble, babble, babble from Olafson, then interpretation: "You are concerned. Your lines are some that speak to their meaning. You are at the Slime Pit. Hordak faces you strongly. Fear? Perhaps. It is best not to dwell on it. You speak. You are grave...undaunted. Like Tyr. You wave pants."
Armstrong tai-chied himself calm, focused on the inflatable toy, and shoved the trousers at it: "I can iron like a lion in Zion!!"
Olafson frowned.
"Too like a startled herring."
"What the hell does Zion have to do with it?" demands the aggrieved orange-suited actor. "When did Beast-Man become a Zionist?"
"It's a Bob Marley joke," shouts Wimpleman as he takes Sport and Sarah to see She-Ra's costume, which is much smaller than you'd expect.
At this point my keeper tugged me aside. No one likes outsiders at a family tiff. We head off towards a trailer which is set slightly apart from the others. I knock on the door and it opens to reveal the bright white teeth, rippling muscles and tiny paper lobster bib of He-Man.
He crushes my fingers in an Aryan grip and pats me on the back with a good-natured, "Hi! I'm He-Man, the most powerful man in the universe."
Stay tuned for Part 2: The Interview
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, December 30th, 2003
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We had a Jesus on Eternia, too. Ours was a bit more like Young M.C. though. We still celebrate Christmas with all the usual stuff - stockings, presents, hats, demon masks, bugs.
I woke up early Christmas morning, then went back to sleep and woke up Christmas afternoon. When I walked down the Castle Grayskull steps I saw that Mer-Man and Beast-Man had been waiting for me since dawn.
"Hey, He-Man! Merry Christmas!"
"Santa in da house," observed Beast-Man.
Over the fireplace hung our stockings. I noticed that Orko's, which was maroon with an "O" on it, looked pretty full. On closer examination I realized that it was actually just Orko himself, and someone had thumbtacked him to the mantle.
Battlecat was already drunk and lying curled up by the fire.
"Last Christmas I gave you my heart," he sang. "The very next day you gave it away...you bitch..."
Gifts were exchanged.
Mer-Man received: sneakers that had "Rekord" written on them (Beast-Man), "Finding Nemo" (Adora), a Charlotte Church CD (Battlecat), a bottle opener shaped like Africa and two Yoohoo bottle caps (Me).
Beast-Man was given: a George Foreman Grill (Mer-Man), a gift certificate for Supercuts (Battlecat), an empty Yoohoo bottle and another with some left in the bottom (Me).
Battlecat hauled in: "Bronski Beat's Greatest Hits" (Mer-Man), "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy: Season 1" (Adora), "You are a Drunk" and Other Poems (Beast-Man), a box (Me).
Orko got: nothing.
I didn't do too bad myself. Mer-Man gave me a note book with Snorks on it to write my journal in. Beast-Man added "4 eva!" to the bottom of the "Frends" rock and called it a present. Battlecat gave me stamps. Adora was going to give me something but left when I asked if I could have naked pictures of She-Ra. I bought myself some headphones and signed the card "Doggor".
After we were done with the presents, we all banqueted on the traditional Christmas White Castle. I ate fifty-two double cheeseburgers before I got sick.
It wasn't such a bad Christmas, really. And for all of you still waiting for your cards, well, I got stamps now.
I have made a New Year's resolution to finish my LiveJournal. Just in case, though, I made a back-up resolution that I would go mountain climbing.
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Comments: Read 8 or Add Your Own.
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Friday, November 14th, 2003
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There are those in the world whose appearance one might describe as heroic: Charlton Heston, Harrison Ford, He-Man. I have always flattered myself that my looks could be called "villainous". Not thug/henchman villainous, but mastermind/cad villainous. Such conceits can of course be dangerous, but, when confirmed in the mirror of someone else's eyes, delightful.
I was waiting at the international arrivals gate at a large US airport. I was meeting someone important so had dressed nattily in a black suit with tight black leather gloves (because I do those sorts of things sometimes). Around me were groups of expectant families preparing to greet relatives and friends from far-flung corners of the world.
Even in public it is sometimes possible to suddenly experience the feeling that you are being watched, or, more accurately, scrutinized. I scanned the crowd and my eyes met those of an old woman with a shawl and a dearth of teeth. For a moment we both stared and then she let out a great keening wail and made to collapse.
Her shocked family surrounded her and helped her to her feet. All the while she pointed at me and screamed in some very angry Slavic tones.
By now people were starting to pay attention.
The little group around the old bat began to remonstrate with her in the low voices of all airport family arguments. In the end, after everyone in the vicinity had strained their necks whipping back and forth between the old lady and the mean man dressed in black who had upset her, they reached a compromise.
She hushed and a short peeved man with a European mustache approached me.
"I'm sorry," he began in accented English, "but have you ever been to Serbia?"
"I'm afraid not," I answered truthfully, and he thanked me and turned on his heel.
As he reported his findings to the crone, the passengers from the flight I had been waiting for began pouring out. It was time for me to go.
As we left, I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the woman was still glaring at me, ignoring the explanations and entreaties of her family.
I winked at her in the most rakish way I could muster and she screamed again, her legs buckling.
And that's how it feels to be one of the Beatles.
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Comments: Read 6 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, November 11th, 2003
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"I'm just brainstorming here, but how's this for an idea -- Christeries?"
"What?"
"Christeries -- mysteries, but with Jesus!" It had only just occured to me, and I thought it had a lot of potential. "Jesus is the detective. He solves crimes in the Holy Land back in the day."
"I'm sorry." He isn't buying.
"It's a great idea. Think about it! Jesus and the Sons of Sodom, Jesus and the Holy of Holies, Jesus and the Carpenter's Rule..."
"No, I..."
"Don't like the titles? Too gimmicky?" It's a hard sell but I'm on a roll. "Dig this -- Cast the First Stone: a Jesus Christery. It's a collective murder. The whole town's in on it. Society's to blame, that sort of thing. Unbeatable! And Jesus is public domain."
"Uh, this is my stop," he lies, and gets off the bus. I'm left alone to develop a Biblical "locked-room" mystery.
Audiences are fickle things.
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, November 1st, 2003
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Shopping for groceries is not something I enjoy, but as I like to cook (and eat) it is a necessary evil.
Now there are three grocery stores nearby: two from a giant chain (which have everything) and one healthy grocery store (which has only inoffensive food).
Much as I distrust anything that claims to be good for me, I found myself pushing through the non-electric doors of the healthy grocery store. I had been in the neighborhood and I am, above all else, lazy.
I began filling my basket with all-natural nothings and it wasn't until I was picking out tomatoes that I noticed anything was wrong.
There was a woman poking through the bagged lettuce (for some reason there were no heads. Maybe heads are unhealthy). From time to time she would glance in my direction and sigh.
Sigh. I ignore her.
Louder sigh. I pointedly ignore her.
It didn't work.
"I always get lost in this place."
This time, I sigh. I glance around the refrigerated lettuce. I'm the only other person in the aisle. I focus on reading the bag labels, pretending to be concerned over the differences between strains of Romaine. She's not buying it.
With no preamble, no "Pardon me," she grabs two bags of lettuce and attacks.
"Do you think this is enough lettuce for four people?"
Is it my corduroy jacket? Maybe the "I can't afford a new razor blade" three days of scruff? The partially combed hair?
Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Perhaps she really need the help of the kindly unemployed academicy type who seems so interested in lettuce.
"Yes," I lie, "that should be fine." Actually I could eat an entire bag myself.
She's not sure though. "Four people?"
"Quite enough."
"It's just going to be lettuce. They're coming over for dinner, and they only get lettuce. Just lettuce."
Her eyes implored me to ask, "Just lettuce? No dressing? No accoutrement?!"
But I couldn't. Having spent a lifetime distancing myself from people through hyper-politeness, I couldn't ask. To have called attention to her ignorance or madness, whichever it was, that would allow her to serve bare lettuce leaves would have been unthinkable. Instead I had to assume that what she meant by "just lettuce" was actually, lettuce in a Caesar salad, or lettuce on a sandwich.
But by now I was beginning to become suspicious. I wasn't just some gourmet Samaritan here. It was something more. Scripted perhaps. It seemed to me like an exercise from a woman's magazine.
"How to find nice men:"
1) Go to a health-conscious supermarket.
2) Look for a man by himself. Only single men shop and cook for themselves.
3) Ask his opinion on something. He will feel as if you value his input.
It would serve you right if I offered to help you prepare a full dinner, and then just cut off your head and served it to your pals in a salad bowl. How's that for healthy?
"More than enough lettuce," I decide.
She hardened her stance and prepared to ask another question.
But it was too late! I was saved.
Like a whirlwind, my girlfriend blew into the aisle, grabbed me by the arm, and snatched up a bag of "Lettuce from Holland".
The girl is stunned. My expert shopper girlfriend shoots her a cold look saying, "That's how you pick up a man and a bag of lettuce."
And then, in the produce section, I began to feel like just another piece of meat.
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Comments: Read 4 or Add Your Own.
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Hi! He-...
Oops. Actually this is a personal journal for me. I hope that it will help me keep track of some willful fake journals I have been a part of. It will also allow me to bring to life some projects only yet dreamt of. Ha!
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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