The Purple Pinup Guru Platform

When purple things are pulsating on your mind, I'm the one whose clock you want to clean. Aiding is Sparky, the Astral Plane Zen Pup Dog from his mountain stronghold on the Northernmost Island of the Happy Ninja Island chain, this blog will also act as a journal to my wacky antics at an entertainment company and the progress of my self published comic book, The Deposit Man which only appears when I damn well feel like it. Real Soon Now.

Friday, June 20, 2003


And even more mish mash. I suppose I'm not ready to dip in the bag of the continous stepfather saga just yet for recent bouts- and I've got such a heavy weekend ahead of me. In approximately 45 minutes, I'll be going to a sneak preview of the first two episodes of Sex And The City, a show that I've heard so much about, but never had got to experience due to the complete utter dearth of cable in my house and I've haven't chanced on buying the box sets yet. So here's my introductory package, so it should be fun. Last weekend I've purchased a bunch of emmy consideration screeners. If you're a member of the voting committee that makes up the emmys, chances are as Dan Evans, puts it on his Ska8e Jesus Delphiforum, ' it's going to be Christmas time when the mailman angerly keeps dropping off packages at your door' of video tapes from studios of what they consider to be the best of the their last season's crop. Since I'm not a member, I rely on second hand or used record stores to stock them. They get dropped off from 'unindentified sources' who unload them for a heroin fix, which sums up most of the people who work in Tinseltown, since these stores don't charge too much for them anyway. I paid anywhere from 2 bucks to 4 for a bunch of stuff that's already been shown on cable, so I'm going to be checking out episodes of FX's Lucky; a comedy that's supposed to be about a 'reformed' compulsive gambler helping others to kick the habit, and HBO's The Wire , a show that's constantly mentioned at water cooler pow wows. I also got some mini-series to watch like last summer's The Mists of Avalon and the theatrical release of Roger Dodger of which I should be citing bits and pieces of dialogue left and right on Dan's board in the callgirl thread of which my vitrolic views recently came under fire for my stressed opinion about the dating scene (So, what else us new?).

Also on my agenda is seeing the Hulk on Sunday morning at the Pacific Cinerama Dome- it's seems to my best bet if I want the ultimate in sight and sound ( see my entry two days ago for details), since there is going to be no IMAX presentation for the foreseeable future.

And I've got some 5 and a half hours to kill Sunday night to finally check out my Led Zeppelin DVD since everyone in the house is going to Vegas before record tempertures soar in the summer. I heard it gets extremely hot out there, I don't know if I handle the strain if I choose to meet up with family out there. I remember fainting in front of a department store when I was in my teens because of record breaking heat in New Jersey- shit like that can physically and mentality bitchslap you without warning. I can handle it out here because at least, I've got a 9 foot deep pool in my backyard- which is real convenient when I'm scripting on my word processor upstairs where ventilation fears to tread.

I still can't stop listening to this new Steve Hackett.-To Watch the Storms is most certainly the best album I've bought this year, just behind the new Radiohead and Arena. Each of the seventeen tracks on this special edition (the regular one has 13)
encompasses a transcendental journey through various degrees of style and instrumental integrity, from the classical guitar opening of Strutton Ground, the optigan (a toy organ) carnival passages on Circus of Becoming to the heavy metal vulcan mind melded riffs on Prozac in Mechanical Bride (of which I went into consider length about yesterday) all the way up to the serene flutes of Serpentine Song ( a small little park and lake across the street from London's Royal Albert Hall- which makes me long to go back to that magnificant city- it's the heart of civilization to me), and finally to the sixties decedence of the Batman theme song interspersed with other surf boogie treats in Marijuana, Assassin of Youth To those reading this board, I implore you to please, please, seek this album out. Steve's wife, watercolor artist Kim Poor, adorns the special book and sleeves with a collection of her most mesmerzing paintings.

But that's not to say that I also have a few Radiohead tunes running loopy around in my head. And I'm going to get into length about them when the weekend is over. I promise.

Until more fifteen minutes eventually pass,



Thursday, June 19, 2003


A continuation of Mish mash. It's been a lazy week at the office due to hiatus season at the studio- only snippets of work come in here and there, so there's a lot of time to fart on the internet but I'm focused on getting personal shit done such as my website www.geocities/ which is under very heavy construction, and after one click, you'll find out why. I've been asking Alan Sinder to help out with downloading some pictures, but everytime I call the big lug, he says he's having a helluva time finding time when to do it. I'm hoping he'll get some preview pages of the new book up this weekend, but I doubt he won't get around to it until San Diego Comic Con rolls along.

In the meantime, my new book designer, Oliver Simonsen got a fantastic coloring job in for a promotion postcard on the Deposit Man that I'll be passing around the con, and coincidentally, almost the entire thing is done in purple- which I explained to him that I write this blog in purple- so somehow our minds did a telepathic circle jerk on this one. I really dig the color scheme he came up for my trenchcoated tough talking tramp kicking transmogrifying tatterbrained ...whatever. I'm running out of adjectives.

Yesterday, I was all aglow about the new Steve Hackett release. One thing about 2003 and since I've got this gig going at the movie studio, I sure have been buying a lot of CDs and not having a lot of time to sit down and give them my individual attention, i.e; not enough repeated listenings and sitting down and try to figure out certain songs on the keyboards. But I'm have been really enthusiatic about the new Hackett album that I just have to cave in for the special edition of which I went into a certain amount of detail in yesterday's entry. Hackett goes into a broad range of styles on this outing, his first studio effort since 1999's Darktown (which the title suggests some ominous gothic flavored tunes...and you'd be right)- and it is certainly a polar opposite in tone from that previous effort. There are somber moments and then there are just some outright shredding moments. There is a Mile Davis/Weather Report influence on The Silk Road, a few solo spanish guitar minuets and a Thomas Dolby cover of The Devil is An Englishman which showcases Steve giving his most finest Satan impression since Vampyre with A Healthy Appetite, a track off his 1992 effort Guitar Noir. But the most stand out track is a guitar/keyboard orchestrated frenzy entitled Mechanical Bride, which guest stars Ian MacDonald, formely of King Crimson and Foreigner. It is a King Crimson homaged delight- going off in several heavy thumping directions at once.

Second behind this release, i'm currently spinning Radiohead's Hail to The Thief, which is another interwoven palette of eclecticness at it's finest. I'm currently gushing over the tracks of A Punchup at A Wedding, Myxomatosis, and A Wolf At the Door.And I'm going to have to continue this tomorrow, because, well, you know....

My Fifteen Minutes are Up,



Wednesday, June 18, 2003


A mish mash of stuff:

One of my co-workers is going to a press screening of the Hulk tonight. Jeez, they sure waited long enough. The movie offically opens up in two days and that would mean that some of these (if not all) review journalists better get cranking on their laptops.
I'm excited about seeing it, for reasons people can't fathom, as I imagine that I was only one of the few who voiced fanboy elation upon seeing the CGI effects- laden teasers on the Super Bowl. As of late, I've been on a Incredible Hulk kick, with watching my Columbia House club editions of the old Bill Bixby series. How I miss that guy. I met him one time when I was used to be a seat warmer at most of the Paramount tapings and I think he was on his last legs back then. Didn't really recognize him until the warm up guy pointed him out giving directions to the cast of Blossom from a partitioned window. It wasn't until you got up close to the guy until you recognized what chemo can take out of a guy. I've seen it before when I last saw my Grandfather before shuffling off the mortal coil. That guy sure had it rough, with the death of his son and the suicide of his wife

In addition, I'll probably be tuning into some animated episodes as well. A new DVD came out from Buena Vista and they're in the similar vein as the Spider-Man and X-Men editions are. I'm crossing my fingers that the movie will be out in IMAX at the Universal Studio lot as I feel, that would be the idea venue to see it at- since they put up a huge hunk of change for it. Usually, all the Universal releases go straight to the AMC theater chains- which is ok, since the quality of the concession stands have improved since they bought out General Cinema Corporation- but in terms of sound quality- nothing beats a good ol' THX aural- gasm and only theaters like the Mann Village Westwood or the Mann's Chinese Theaters only provide that level of excitement.

If worse comes to worse, I guess my only prime available choice would be the Cinerama Dome on Sunset and Vine- where they've now reinovated the entire street to include this spiffy, but overpriced multiplex called the Arclight Cinemas (owned by Pacific Theaters) where you can grab a bagel sandwich at the concession stand and where ushers actually escort you to your seat and introduce the audience of each movie with some production facts. If they do feature a solo engagement, usually there will be actual props from the movie displayed downstairs in the lobby (along with a overpriced gift shop and some elegant cafe dining)- as least there was one there when I caught Road to Perdition .

Last night, I picked up the new sensational Steve Hackett album, To Watch the Storms , and it is indeed quite a package! An e-mail buddy of mine from Australia used to work for Steve's new label, Insideout Music which I believe can be accessed through . They are a german label and they've been giving old prog rock acts a new home and a new lease on life such as Renaissance, Steve Howe, Steve Hackett, and Chris Squire. And their packaging is exquisite. My buddy helped develop some of the new packaging with their limited editions (like minature little hardcover collector books in a slip sleeve) when he worked there. He came up with the idea of the sturdy collector's sleeve inside the hardcover booklets before shipping off to Australia to become a customs inspector (talk about switching careers! Boy, do I miss those complementary demos he used to send me!), now I see a lot of the major labels taking notice of this packaging that is made to last . Anyway, musically, this new release from the ex-guitarist of Genesis is even more adventurous and eclectic than some of Peter Gabriel's efforts. I'll talk more tomorrow about this, along with some comments on the new Radiohead.



Tuesday, June 17, 2003


I want to write down about a incident that happened over the weekend that I hinted about yesterday.

As everyone is well aware, Sunday was Father's Day. My living situation at home is that I live in a nice plush house in Sherman Oaks, sharing the block with well known actors and people who work in the entertainment industry. I have been renting a room for like $250 a month in this house for the past eight years with a older couple who own a insurance business and a comic book store. I've been friends with them for like, ten years. I am also friends with their children, so it's like I'm a spare sibling. One sibling, Rebecca has helped me edit and proofread my Deposit Man scripts because she happens to be a grade school teacher, so she gets into it and has even contributed some lines of script on her own. She also has a five year old daughter who is over every weekend when she and her boyfriend go out. She has been separated from her husband for like six years now and won't divorce him because it would mean deportation for him back to England if she did. So, basically it works out to keep the family together as a unit. The husband and the boyfriend get along ok with each other as the husband is currently shacking up with another woman. Anyway, Rebecca's husband has been staying over my house to fix the place up, because the old couple are dead set on selling the place for a half a million dollars. He's been painting the rooms and putting up tiles in the bathroom and doing whatever needs to be done. Probably in a year's time, I will have find alternative accommodations. But in the meantime, we're all living it up in the high life.

In all this time, I've never had a problem with the husband. I find myself partial to British people because I have a quarter of british blood too (the other being , Russian, German and Irish). I've known the huband to be a drug abuser for quite some time, but I've never voiced an opinion about it frankly because it's not my business to be judgemental on how anyone live their lives. But the behavior that I witnessed this guy exhibit towards his daughter on Father's Day was just appalling. The husband worked all week on the house, I'll grant him that- but when Rebecca drops his daughter off for the weekend and if he's there at the house, then it's his job to watch her. So, I saw that they spent time together on Friday to watch a video of 'Shrek' and he specifically stated to his daughter that they would be going to see the new Rugrats movie in celebration of Father's Day tomorrow afternoon. Sounded keen.

Saturday morning- they were both up watching cartoons. He's looking in the paper to see what time the movie is playing. He tells her that movie will start in a hour and for her to go take a bath and get ready- but, twenty minutes later, out of nowhere, he unexpectingly calls Rebecca and asks her to take her to the movie instead and then runs upstairs, pulls the sheets over his head and isn't heard from for the rest of the day. Rebecca and her boyfriend come over fifteen minutes later and is fuming, practically frothing at the mouth. She is pissed off because she feels it's isn't right that her husband always double backs on his plans just because he doesn't feel good.

So I gather this isn't the first time this has happened.

Rebecca yanks her daughter out of the house. I went on about my buisness and I when I came back at midnight, I had heard that he was still asleep - which put a damper on my plans to blast the new Live Led Zeppelin collection ( but- since the house is so big, it doesn't disturb the old couple downstairs, who I always nickname Obi-Wan Dan and the Dragon Lady BTW) However, with it being Becky's husband sleeping in the room next to me, so I figured what the hell- DO IT ANYWAY!

Not a solid peep out of him.

So the next morning, Becky came back over and made brunch for everyone. And still her husband wouldn't get out of bed. Her daughter went up to see him. Told her to get out. Then Becky went up. He told her he had a headache and to leave him alone. I thought this was crass behavio. That's his daughter. He should be downstairs celebrating. Becky tells me later, why do you think we don't live together anymore? She tells me, that he would pull this shit when they were living together. Sleeping up to forty hours at a time. She had to replace the sheets and pillows because his sweat would stink up the place.

Just wanted to record that one for prosperity- that's all.

More tomorrow,



Monday, June 16, 2003


Again, I'm almost half attempted to write about a episode that happened on Father's Day yesterday about what a rotten thing that a five year girl's dad did over at my house- but I've got to finish wrestling these demons out.

In my last entry, I've cussed up a storm at the guy hired to lifeguard and maintain my apartment's complex after he threw me in the pool fully clothed when I said I'd take a gun and shoot his mother with it. I went across the street to the baseball field to dry off and then go home and act as if nothing had happened.

Then I saw something shiny and blue darted across the street and zoom across the baseball field towards me.

Oh fuck, it couldn't be...

THE ROGER's blue boat of a Cadillac racing to run me down- and I thought, uh oh, it's going to be one of those fucking ROGER moments. Well, I decided right there and then, I wasn't going to be taking any more shit from him. So I ran.

He cut me off.

He rolled down his window and said that around six neighbors called and heard me yell 'fuck you and your mother' 600 different ways and also he was going to kill me for a laying a hand on his 'niece'.

I said, 'Whoa, waitaminute, I never even layed a hand on her. Bernie and her were the ones who got-

But the ROGER wouldn't hear of it. He got out of the car and started to chase. But the one thing he didn't count on was that I knew and could nagivate through the woods better than he can. And that's where I ran into- through swamps, dirt, and a American Revolution Era graveyard and ran across the street to a church/annex school. I broke in and spent the rest of the day and night in a darkened class room.

The next morning, I went back to my summer camp as if nothing had happened. Wouldja' believe THE ROGER showed up to take me home? As I was still reluctant to still get in the car with the maniac, The ROGER's approach to yanking me back to the car irked the suspicions of the camp counselors and they intervened by saying that they maybe we should all talk this through. THE ROGER told them to all 'f' themselves, as he didn't need guidence to discipline his kids. (He called me his 'kid', man did that make me see red). They told him, if they saw me come back with any bruises or markings that they were going to report him to the authorities. More words were exchanged and he drove me back to the apartment, but he didn;t say a word to me or lift a hand to swat me all the way back.

When we got in the house, my mom was fraught with tears. She was really worried that I had for the first time in my life- 'stayed out al night' and still she grounded me for the rest of the summer- but the DEBBIE confessed that she lied about the hitting he part and admitted that my sister did it. She was quickly deported back to RI, after she pulled the same sleepwalking shit on THE ROGER one night. And THE ROGER yelled at her mother for not informing that she had Psycho problems.

And we all got along for the rest of the summer.