in the heat of the summer better call out a plumber

Back in the old days, the good old days, when it was generally accepted that Fascism and Nazis were bad, bloggers would write these posts that were sort of recaps of what we were doing, what we’d been doing, with some links to stuff we liked. This is one of those posts.

Good morning. I’m in Jackson, Mississippi, for the Mississippi Comi Con. Come see me if you’re local! I’m here all day today and tomorrow.

My travel yesterday was basically uneventful, once I was actually on a plane and in the sky. My connection in Dallas was delayed three different times, and each time the airline told me that my gate had been changed from where I was, to the gate that was farthest away in the terminal. So I spent a couple hours walking back and forth, which honestly wasn’t bad at all. I probably got in more steps walking in that terminal than I get on a typical Thursday.

The invention of noise canceling earbuds has made all the difference for me, with travel. I can wrap myself in a bit of a cocoon, and just get where I am going without a lot of sensory overload and overwhelm. Usually, I just listen to one of my playlists, but I have a mountain of Audible credits that I’ve been turning into books. For the last week or so, I’ve been going back and forth between Rip It Up And Start Again, by Simon Reynolds, and Peter Hook’s book about Joy Division¹. They are both oral histories of the post-punk movement from around 1976 to 1990, from different points of view. The parts where they overlap are just fascinating. Hookie has his memories of specific events, and Reynolds collects memories from other people who were at the same event. I’m sure there are other books, from other members of other bands, that would fill in even more details. This is one of the reasons I just love history so much, and why it’s so satisfying to track down primary sources.

When I wasn’t listening to those books, I read a short story that’s one of the Hugo finalists², Marginalia, by Mary Robinette Kowal. It’s featured in Uncanny Magazine, which is where a TON of finalists were published this year.³

I usually arrive hungry (thanks, Anthony Bourdain⁴) but I did some math in Dallas and realized I wouldn’t be landing until almost 11, and I didn’t want to eat at midnight, even if my body insisted it was only 9pm. So I looked around the terminal and my choices were Starbucks and Whataburger, or some combination of granola bars, a dodgy-looking apple, and a sad Wil. So I chose Whataburger and OMG it was perfect. I don’t usually eat stuff like that, and it was like BOOM COMFORT FOOD from the first bite. It reminded me of the little burger shacks that were in parking lots in the Valley when I was a kid, with those perfect drive-thru fries that you’d eat half of before you got home. My body wasn’t thrilled that I put a burger and fries into it so late in my day, but my body’s been kind of a dick lately, so it can just deal with it.

ANYWAY. I finally got to my hotel. Finally got checked in. Got to my room just around 1130pm, not hungry, but wide awake. Neat.

I watched some YouTube, read some blogs, and finally fell asleep around 1am local time. I slept shockingly well, woke up feeling fully rested, and now I’m trying to find things to do until it’s time to go to work. I’ve actually run out of brain cycles for reading, or even listening to someone else read — does that happen to other people? You really want to keep going because you’re so interested or enthralled or whatever, but your brain is just like, “dude I can’t. I’ve run out of focus and I don’t know what to tell you.” It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.

While I was trying to wind my brain down, I watched this video about merch⁵, and now I want to record myself narrating a very short …. something … that’s up to about 5 minutes, and release it on extremely indie, extremely DIY, cassettes and vinyl. When Sean Bonner and I did Saturday Night Massacre back in 2017⁶, as part of the Kickstarter one week project thingy, we wanted to do something like this, and I can’t remember if we actually made physical media or not. I don’t think we did, but just because we ran out of time. It looks like it isn’t too difficult to get the things made, though. It’s just the fulfillment that would take some meaningful time.

If I created some bespoke physical media that cost around $30 all-in after shipping, would you be into that? Let me know in the comments, and I’ll prioritize accordingly.

Oh! Speaking of physical things … we have a new enamel Good Morning Nerds pin for you at Stands! Check it out!

I love the image of my bookcase they put on the card, my glasses, and the spout of hair that always explodes off the side of my head. It’s the little details, y’all..

And I brought Trek Side of the Moon back at Cottonbureau.

This con marks the official beginning of my 2025 Summer Convention Season. Over the next month or so, here’s where I’m scheduled:

July 4-5 I will be in Montreal for Montreal Comic Con
July 11-13 I will be in Knoxville for Fanboy Expo
July 20-22 I will be in Atlanta for ATL Comic Convention

I think there are one or two others that I’m not remembering, but that’s July. I really should have a page with this information that I can link to, rather than relying on my memory, but I’ve never done more than five shows in a calendar year before now, and my memory has been more than enough to keep them all straight. This year, I’m doing more than I have in a long time because I feel like we need to get out and do the fun things, get together with our fellow nerds in a safe place to express ourselves and see each other, now more than ever. Everything is terrible, but at least we can have a few hours, a couple days, of peace and respite, surrounded by people who love the things we love, the same way we love them.

Community is important in the best of times. It’s VITAL when we have thugs brutalizing, terrorizing, and kidnapping our friends and neighbors, under orders from a wannabe despot who seeks to use the power of the State — power that belongs to the people — to wage war against citizens who won’t accept him as our king. Going to conventions, game days at your local game shop, Neighborhood Nights Out in your community, and gently interacting with other people is a massive bulwark against tyranny⁷, according to professor Timothy Snyder, one of the leading experts in the world on the subject.

So do your patriotic duty and go to a convention this summer! It’ll be fun! Joy is resistance!

I’m so blessed and so grateful that I attract kind, creative, enthusiastic people when I am at a show. I always get the most surprising and beautiful things, and I love to share them. As always, I’ll be posting to my Instagram stories from the con. Clever is my Kryptonite, and there are always clever people at these things.

Okay, that’s all for today. I hope everyone has the most wonderful weekend possible. Take care of yourselves, and take care of each other.

He has the most soothing voice, ever. I feel like I’m sitting in a cafe with him while he tells me all about this time in his life. The way he makes me feel as I’m listening to him is what I hoped to give to people who listen to Still Just A Geek. ↩︎
I have this idea to narrate all the finalists in the short story category for my podcast. I don’t think we’ll be back in production in time to do this before the awards are handed out, but it’s something I’d love to do next year, and every year after that, if they’ll let me. ↩︎
Have I mentioned that Lynne and Michael Thomas, who edit Uncanny, found all the stories I read in the first season of It’s Storytime? If I can afford it, I’m hoping to work with them again. They are amazing. ↩︎
May his memory be a blessing. ↩︎
As it relates to DIY and indie creators. This guy is as enthusiastic about this kind of thing as I am, and loves to make fun stuff just because it’s fun to make. There are a lot of ancillary benefits, as he observes, but even if you’re not someone who would enjoy (or is looking for) those particular benefits, his excitement, enthusiasm, and creativity shine though. I can see how just making this thing he thought was silly and fun affected not only his creativity, but the whole band’s creativity. ↩︎
GodDAMN was this project fun. The history, the Kickstarter, all of it. It’s one of those things we did because we wanted it to exist, and we didn’t care if a hundred people or zero people liked it. As it turned out, 138 people liked it. That’s a nice, even, 140 when you count both of us. ↩︎
12. Make eye contact and small talk. This is not just polite. It is part of being a citizen and a responsible member of society. It is also a way to stay in touch with your surroundings, break down social barriers, and understand whom you should and should not trust. If we enter a culture of denunciation, you will want to know the psychological landscape of your daily life. ↩︎

rock and or roll

Saturday night, my friend and I went to see The Linda Lindas and Be Your Own Pet at the Novo, at LA Live.

I haven’t been to the Novo before (I think maybe it was a bowling alley at one point? Part of it felt familiar, and the bowling alley is the only place I’ve been that would fit the memory), and I was thrilled to discover a new (to me) venue with fantastic sight lines and great sound.

I saw Linda Lindas open for Blondie¹ at the Greek like two years ago, and they killed. I’ve been a fan since I heard Racist, Sexist Boy* about three years ago, and I am emotionally invested in their happiness and success. They are going to blow up before we know it, and take their place as the 21st century’s Go-Gos, or Runaways. I just love those kids!

Did I mention they are all kids? When I saw them at the Greek, I think Mila, the dummer, was 12? And Bela, one of their guitarists, was like 16? You’d never know it, based on their stage presence and technical chops.

Don’t sleep on them, is what I’m saying. In a year, they won’t be playing the Novo; they’ll be playing much larger venues, and the intimacy of these shows won’t be possible.

It was the first time I’ve seen Be Your Own Pet, though I’ve been listening to them for years, since I started a Spotify station with Rebel Girl and just let it go, so I could discover new music. (When Riot Grrl was at its peak, I was a really dumb boy, so I missed a lot of it. Better late than never, dumb boys.)

I came home from the show pretty late, and I was up even later while I waited for the energy and excitement of the show to fade so I could go to sleep. (A well-worn joke in my book is: I am 52 years-old. I’m tired all the time except between the hours of 10pm and 3 am.) I considered going into Fallout 76 to work on my camp, then remembered all the times I did that “real quick” for three or four hours that flew by without me noticing. So I was off to the YouTubes!

I went through my subscriptions, and ended up watching a short from this guy called Professor of Rock, who does the kind of deep dive explorations into music and its history that speak directly to my inner nerd in a form of high elvish that has mostly been forgotten. (Remember: being a nerd isn’t about what you love; it’s about the way you love it.)

I’ve learned lots of things from him over the years, but I know a lot about music myself (Willem Dafoe Meme) so it’s rare that I go “Holy shit I didn’t know that!”

Guess where I’m going with this? I learned something that not only did I not know, it reset what I thought I knew about it.

He has a video about long songs that broke the Billboard hot 100 at a time when it was exceedingly rare for anything longer than 4 minutes to get radio play. Olds like me who grew up in the 70s and 80s probably jumped way ahead of him: Stairway to Heaven, One of These Days, Side 2 of Abbey Road (called Golden Slumbers for the single version), etc.

Only none of those were on his list! Clever girl (Jurassic Park meme).

I don’t want to spoil the countdown, in case you’re going to watch it. But I do want to share one song he included, because until this weekend, I didn’t know that this version existed. This is the full album version of Inna-Gada-Davida, by Iron Butterfly:

AKA

I’ve known the story of Inna Gadda Da Vida for so long, I can’t remember when or where I learned about it. I’ve never been a particularly big fan of it, because it’s … well, it’s boring and repetitive.

Oh, but that’s the radio version that you’ve heard, Wil Wheaton, did you know there is a SEVENTEEN MINUTE VERSION THAT ROCKS YOUR FUCKING FACE RIGHT OFF?

Well, now I do, thanks to the Professor of Rock, and holy shit I’ve listened to it so many times since Saturday, I’m at risk of burning myself out. AND I’ve been listening to the whole album, which I never even gave a second look, because I didn’t like what I thought was the only version of the title song.

So thanks, Professor! It turns out that, even at 52 years-old, there are still wonderful and surprising opportunities to learn and discover new things. I appreciate the reminder.

Hey, check out my amazing segue:

If you’re into discovering new things, maybe you’ll enjoy my new podcast, It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton. Every week I narrate a new short story from authors you don’t yet know you love. It’s available wherever you get your podcasts:

And if you want to subscribe to my blog’s newsletter:

Rock on, friends.

*I love that Bella is wearing the same Kim Gordon shirt by Kathleen Hanna that I wear from time to time.

May his memory be a blessing ↩︎

frances farmer will have her revenge

Remember going to the record store, browsing for hours, listening to tons of recordings on headphones, soaking up the culture and that vibe we can all feel in our memories, but can’t describe with words?

Remember getting the tape, even though you really wanted the record (that you could make into a tape), because you could listen to the tape in the car, right away?

Remember getting home and listening to the whole album, both sides of it, for the very first time?

Remember buying a CD because the single was great, only to discover that you spent 18 dollars on a piece of shit, and you were stuck with it?

Remember discovering a record that did not have a single bad track on it, and how rare that was?

I don’t know how many of you share similar experiences, but I suspect it’s not zero.

This is where we all expect me to dump on streaming or something, right? That’s not what this is about.

I love the convenience of streaming. I love the access to basically the entire history of human recordings, so when I feel compelled to listen to The Andrews Sisters and Tones On Tail in the same day, it doesn’t involve a trip to the mall. I love massive playlists of music they don’t play on the radio, that I can shuffle into my own sonic time machine. I can do all of those things I remember (except for going to record stores; I’ll still do that whenever I can), with the added bonus of never being stuck with a shitty record, ever again.

But I’ve noticed that the playlists have taken over, and I haven’t actually listened to a full album in a really, really long time. Like, other than Pink Floyd records, which must be listened to in their entirety, always (I will not be taking questions at this time), it just hasn’t occurred to me to listen to, say, all of In Utero.

I reset the counter on DAYS SINCE I LISTENED TO AN ENTIRE ALBUM to 0 last night. I really wanted to hear Drain You (yes, I know it’s off Nevermind, and I was just talking about In Utero; settle down), I saw the cover for In Utero, just sitting right there like, “Remember me? Let’s have a cuddle.” And I was like, “this is the best idea anyone has ever had.” I pushed play, then sat there and listened to the whole thing for the first time in … I’m going to describe the amount of time as “an embarrassment”.

Wow, I forgot how much I loved this album when it came out, how I played it on repeat in the car, on the boombox CD player when we played street hockey, how it was such a revelation to young me. I’d forgotten a couple of the songs, too, so it was like discovering them for the first time all over again.

When it ended, I immediately listened to all of Bleach, followed by Nevermind.

I remembered those days, before Smells Like Teen Spirit was everywhere almost over night. I briefly thought about an entire generation that grew up hearing it as just another track on Now That’s What I Call Arena Rock While Missing The Point Of The Lyrics, Volume 5, and how the context for them and Gen X is so profoundly fucking different. Mostly, I remembered how much I loved all three of these records, how much I loved Unplugged, how I played them all as loud as I could stand, and how devastated I was when Kurt Cobain died. I remembered how angry I was at him, back when I didn’t know how to feel any other emotion if I was hurt or felt a loss.

ANYWAY. When the last note of Endless, Nameless faded, and I had fully experienced all of those memories, it occurred to me that I had listened to the entire Nirvana studio catalog — the band that will likely go down as my generation’s Beatles — and it was just over two hours long. Holy shit. They changed an entire generation in, like, 120 minutes (that sounds cooler if you imagine it in Kurt Loder’s voice) and I can’t even imagine what they would have done if Kurt hadn’t died, and they’d stayed together long enough to do their American Idiot. …right?

I then took a moment to be grateful, and to admire Dave Grohl, for having the strength and courage to carry on and form Foo Fighters, which is another band that means a lot to me. He’s talked about feeling intimidated around Kurt, not believing in himself as a writer, and doing whatever it took to power through it all because he had to. In my own way, I can relate to that. I think a lot of us can. And to carry on after Taylor Hawkins died, too? Jesus Christ, man. Dave Grohl doesn’t know I exist but I am so sorry for the loss he has experienced. May their memories be a blessing.

I still love grunge, even if it hurts my heart when a kid calls it Classic Rock. But I’m old and out of touch. Who is this generation’s Nirvana? I mean, it’s probably Nirvana, but who is speaking to kids the same way, now, as they did, then?

wild child

I have a small part in the 1987 television movie (failed pilot) version of The Man Who Fell To Earth. Lewis Smith played the titular character. Beverly D’Angelo played my mom, his love interest. (Fun Star Trek connection: Bob Picardo is also in it).

My character was a Troubled Youth, which I gotta tell you was not a stretch for me at all. I was deeply, deeply hurting at the time we made it. I was struggling not to suffocate on all the emotional and financial burdens my mom put on my shoulders, and fully aware of just how much my dad hated and resented me. You need a kid who doesn’t want to be an actor, whose eyes can’t hide the pain? I’m your guy.

Anyway, one of the scenes I was in took place in a record store, where Troubled Youth steals some albums, before he is chased by the cops and The Man Who Fell To Earth, uses a glowing crystal to save his life from … some scratches on his face.

We filmed the interior of the record store at Sunset and La Brea, in what I think was a Warehouse Records and Tapes, and at the end of the day, I was allowed to buy some records at a modest discount.

I was deep into my metal years, on my way from my punk years to my New Wave years, so I only bought metal albums. I know I bought more than I needed or could carry (I was making a point that I was allowed to spend my own money, mom), but the only ones I can clearly remember are:

Iron Maiden – Piece of Mind

Judas Priest – Turbo and Defenders of the Faith

W.A.S.P – The Last Command

Of those, Piece of Mind is the only one I never really stopped listening to, even through all the different it’s-not-a-phase phases. I still listen to it, today.

Ever since I became an Adult with a Fancy Adult Record Player And All That Bullshit, I have kept my records in two places: stuff I want right now, and stuff I keep in the library because of Reasons.

Generally, records move in one direction toward the library, even if it takes years to happen. I just don’t accumulate albums like I once did, because I’m Old and set in my ways, and every album in the library was something I loved listening to at some point in my life, even if I’ve mostly forgotten them.

Earlier today, I decided that I wanted to listen to an album while I cleaned up the kitchen, and because I wanted to make my life more interesting, I opened the library cabinet for the first time in at least five years. I reached in, and pulled out the first album I touched.

It was the very same W.A.S.P album from that day in March, 1987. I don’t have any of the others — I looked — but The Last Command was right there. I looked at it, curiously. Why do I still have this?

Before I fully knew what I was doing, I put it on the Fancy Adult Record Player and dropped the needle.

I watched four decades of dust build up with a satisfying crackle, and there was something magical and beautiful about hearing all the skips and the scratches, realizing I remembered them from before.

The first track, Wild Child, was just as great as I remembered. It struck all the same chords in me that it did in the late nineteen hundreds. The rest of the first side was … um. It just didn’t connect with me, and during the few moments I spent trying to find a connection, I realized that I don’t think it ever really did. I would remember.

What I did remember how much I loved making those mix tapes, and what a big part of them that song was. I did remember how empowering it felt to not just spend my own money that I earned doing work I didn’t want to do, but to spend it on music my parents hated, right under their noses. I did remember how impressed Robby Lee was, when I showed him my extensive heavy metal album collection, and he gave me a cassette with Screaming for Vengeance on one side, and Metal Health on the other, on one of those iconic Memorex tapes.

Remembering all of that, in one of those cinematic flashes of rapid cut visuals and sped up sounds, told me why I kept this record, while I gradually sold or replaced the other records I bought that day with CDs, then mp3s, then lossless digital files, before finally coming all the way back to records, where I started. This record lives in the library for reasons that have nothing to do with the music.

I didn’t listen to the second side. I didn’t need to. I took it off the Fancy Adult Record Player, and put it back into the library, next to the George Carlin records.

look what you made me do

If I cared any less about the NFL, it would take effort. I get that it’s massively popular, and for some of its fans, “I like football” is their entire personality. Good for them. Sincerely. It’s just not my thing.

But! I love and admire Taylor Swift, which is the only reason I know that the Chiefs ~~had some kind of huge comeback against Detroit and the~~y are going to the Superb Owl against a team I can’t remember and don’t need you to identify. (EDIT: whoops. I mixed up the two playoff games. I still don’t care.)

I still don’t care about the NFL or the game, but oh my god do I love love love love love how outraged and furious and unhinged all these toxic right wing idiots are about Taylor Swift and her boyfriend the football guy. I love it so hard. I love how it’s waking them up at night, I love how they’re just so goddamn angry about it they feel sick. I love how self-inflicted it all is, and how they keep punching themselves in the dick about it, howling with what they think is righteous outrage, but sounds an awful lot like a toddler having a tantrum.

But the thing I love more than anything, the absolute best part of all of it, is watching a political party, under the complete control of the weakest, most pathetic, tiny little man, discover a new and novel way to alienate millions of voters they desperately need, while they push away countless voters who may have been open to their message, if only it wasn’t … this. LOL.

Republicans have already made it crystal clear that they hate women and want to have absolute control over every single thing a woman does. Voters have responded to that with record turnout to codify laws that protect women, and to replace as many misogynist lawmakers as they can.

So please join me in a robust round of mocking applause for whoever made the choice to attack and vilify and attempt to terrorize the most popular and influential woman of her generation, who polls more favorably than their entire party and all of their candidates.

Just a huge, roaring, standing ovation for whoever decided that the party of angry, toxic, predatory, authoritarian men will *absolutely* increase their support among a demographic they can’t afford to lose by picking a fight with their Joan of Arc.

Outstanding work, gentlemen. I have never seen a group of people slam their dicks in the door so beautifully and successfully. I wish you all the worst as you stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror.