Stu News and Photos

It's 11:00 am on Sunday, April 19th and as I type this, our cat, Billie, is climbing our plum tree. Life is a poetry reading, without the beret or the courderoy jacket with the pristine elbow patches.

I'm 42 and pretty ok with things, all considered.

For example, this would have been a work-weekend for Leslie, except her designer got the last-minute work done well before the last minute, so I got to spend time with her. And, to make things better, her designer had flown in from Dallas for the past week's toy fair prep, and with all the work done, he had time for sight-seeing. So we spent Saturday walking the strand in Venice Beach, showing our guest the living organism that is Venice.

And if that wasn't enough, it turned out that he was a musician, and a guitarist to boot. After we got back from dinner, we went to the garage and he and I and Leslie jammed. We started with him playing the riff from Enter Sandman, by the band Metallica. He and I (on drums), jammed on that for a bit, but I interrupted with the story of the guitar shop that I worked at during the summer after that song came out, where we had to post a sign that read, simply: "No Sandman," as that was the first riff played by an overwhelming number of our first time customers when testing a new guitar. I opined that their best work was well behind them, peaking at the release of their fourth studio record, And Justice For All , from 1988. He agreed, enthusiastically, and i knew I had found a musical comrade.

Now, I don't normally play hard rock (I play a mahogany Yamaha Stage Custom kit with a maple Pearl snare, which I find more conducive to a gentler groove). But that vibe was what stuck and I somehow hung in there while this guy laid out some 80's-infused metal licks, improvised little gems that kept us working with ears open and concentrated focus. Leslie soon joined us on a handy Dean Edge bass, she and I found the pocket, and the three of us fell together. Finest kind.

It's times like that when I remember what my best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with the girl who heard Ferris say: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

I love reading, whether poetry or novels or short stories or encyclopedia entries or comic books. I've been on a comic book tear the past few years, and have really enjoyed myself. Part of it is that graphic novels and comic books are produced by some of the best writers of the modern age (yes, every medium has it's level of excellence, but I find that the modern storytellers are gravitating towards comic books and so there seems to be more excellent material in the comic book world than the adult contemporary fiction world or the poetry world - didn't used to be this way; used to be plays and poetry, then novels, then film, now it's the graphic novel form)...

One of the best writers in the graphic novel arena is a guy born in 1976, Brian K. Vaughan. He cut his teeth on standard super-hero fare, but now he writes for the television program Lost, as well as his own comic book creations. One of them is entitled Y: The Last Man.

Y: The Last Man is a relatively long series (80 comics - 10 volumes) that starts with a 20-something man who wakes up to the fact that something has killed off every male of every species on the planet, save him. Now he must deal with life in a women-only society, as well as try to find the love of his life, as well as run from a variety of hostiles, who want him captured or killed. - It's fantastic stuff and I just finished the last of the series, very satisfied. I recommend this series unreservedly to any fan of Lost and to any fan of non-standard comic book fiction.

Meanwhile, it's on to other reading for me - I've got much in my stack, comic books as well as writing without pictures (I"m all growed up and don't *need* pictures when I read)

For S&A and anyone else who enjoys the call of the dance.

This is growing in our backyard. The diameter is a little more than 6
inches, which is far too big for me to sleep comfortably at night,
knowing it's out there, watching me.