50,000 Monkeys at 50,000 Typewriters Can't Be Wrong
Season four of The Guild is underway.
Here's episode one:
And here is episode two:
I wish I could say more about these, but I'm afraid all of my stories and memories are spoilers (or spoiler-adjacent), so I'll just say: I'm incredibly proud of the work we all did this season. Felicia wrote a fantastic script, and everyone in the cast and crew rose to the occasion. I think fans of The Guild are going to love Season Four.
"Come float with me in the pool," Anne said.
"I have to write something, first. It should only take a few minutes."
"Okay." She kicked her feet and drifted away.
It was early in the morning, and already over one hundred degrees. A light breeze did nothing to alleviate the heat, but I didn't mind. You don't go to the desert in July on purpose if you want to stay cool.
I opened my notebook and turned to a blank page. A pang of disappointment flashed through me when I only had to turn a few pages before I found one.
"I haven't written nearly enough this year, and it's more than half over," I thought. There are numerous reasons, some of them excuses, some of them explanations, none of them satisfying.
"Well, I'm writing now. That's what matters."
I clicked my pen open, and pressed it against the top of the page. I had to coax the first few words out, like starting an engine that's been left unused for some time, but eventually, they began to flow more freely. Because I was writing longhand for the first time in years, I took time to consider my words and phrases before committing them to paper, and had a lot of fun while I did it.
Like it so often does, the ending point surprised me and did not arrive when or how I expected. As I saw it approach, though, it was exciting, like picking up a present, and realizing after tearing away a few inches of paper that it something you really wanted was wrapped up inside.
I had only filled up one sheet of my notebook with mostly-legible writing. Words were crossed out in some places, arrows drawn around others reminded me to move things around when I transcribed it for e-mail. I saw that the left margin was smeared in places where the heel of my hand had dragged over the paper. I felt like I'd written much more than I actually
had, and felt a little embarrassed to have been so excited while I did it.
"Sure, it's not very much, but you still made something where there was nothing before, and you had fun while you did it," I told myself, "so go ahead and enjoy it, but just keep it all in perspective. Use this as inspiration to keep writing – and finishing – all those other ideas you keep having."
My notebook has more empty pages than not, and just twenty minutes earlier, that made me feel sad. Looking at them now, though, those empty pages didn't represent the failure, or the fear, or the safety of just not trying … they represented the opportunity – the freedom – to make something where nothing was before.
I'm going to be traveling like crazy for the next several weeks, so last week Anne and I took a couple days off to have a quick two day getaway. We went out to this hotel in the desert that we like, and spent about 36 hours sitting by the pool, doing a whole lot of nothing. It was glorious.
The thing about driving out to the desert is that you spend a fair amount of time on the Interstate, where truck stops are as abundant as country and mariachi music on the radio. The thing about going into truck stops is that you get to see some magnificently awful clothing and gift options that would have to be invented, if they didn't already exist.
BEHOLD:
(Click image to embiggen at flickr.)
If you desperately wanted an apparently hand painted dreamcatcher featuring spirit wolves, horses, and other … things, now you know where to find them.
I sent this picture to Paul and Storm, because something this amazing couldn't be kept to myself. Storm replied, "the internet uses every part of the wolf."
He's right, you know.
Yesterday, the final two T-shirts in the first round of my collaborations with Jinx were released.
First up, Marshmallow Meeps!
Like Rules Lawyers, this idea amused me greatly, and I was shocked to discover that someone hadn't done this already. Maybe it's too small a slice of overlap in the Venn Diagram, but I think it'll be pretty popular with the people who get it. I couldn't come up with a description for this, so Jinx did this, which I think is appropriately cute:
Always in season, these tasty marshmallow treats are not to be consumed until all tiles have been placed and all scores are tallied. Low in calories but packed with win, MEEPS are guaranteed to occupy your territories and satisfy your sweet tooth. A fat free gaming piece brought to you by Wil Wheaton and the folks at J!NX.
The last shirt we did is my favorite of the whole batch. Behold, the WWdN:iX family crest!
This wasn't originally in the 8-bit style, but Sean at Jinx thought it would be cool, since their artist Chris Hope does a lot of 8-bit designs. I wasn't sure it would work … right up until the moment I saw it, and realized that it couldn't be done any other way. If enough people ask, we could probably make this into a sticker, or a hat.
The description I wrote for it amuses me:
The actual Wheaton family crest, while historically accurate, isn’t all that awesome, and while it probably reflected something relevant to my ancestors, it feels … well, dated by about 800 years.
So I asked myself one day, “if I could make a coat of arms for my little portion of the internet – my kingdom, I guess you could all it – what would it look like?”
The motto came to me instantly: “Don’t Be A Dick!” The rest followed quickly, representing the load-bearing pillars of my existence: science, gaming, Sci-Fi, and writing. We wrapped up the whole thing in a classic 8-bit package, and the WWdN Coat of Arms was born.
All my designs are available in basic, women's, and premium (which is a softer fabric, usually American Apparel, with a slimmer cut) and in sizes from S-2XL.
In case you missed them, the other two designs are both RPG-related: My Sword Glows Blue in the Presence of Rules Lawyers, and Never Forget Your Roots.
After being away for much of the last month, I finally got to have a date with Anne on Saturday night.
We made dinner together (seriously, that's one of life's great, simple pleasures) and then watched Black Dynamite from Netflix on our Roku.
The original plan was to watch Forbidden Zone on DVD (remember those?) but I stupidly bought the color version, and I wanted Anne to see it in glorious black and white, so we went to the on-demand section of Netflix to find something that would entertain, without being too serious. I recalled one of my friends raving about Black Dynamite a few months ago, and Netflix said that I'd probably give it 5 stars, so we paid the ticket and took the ride, and were completely on board within the first three minutes of the movie. There may have been some high fiving and jive talking from the two of us, or I may have made that up; we'll never know for sure and I ain't telling.
"This is everything I wanted Grindhouse to be," I told Anne when it was over.
"This reminds me of when we were dating," she said. "I'm so glad we watched this!"
Let me explain: when we were dating, we watched tons of bad 70s movies, and our favorites were the Blaxploitation films like Coffy, Cleopatra Jones, and of course Shaft. We loved those movies so much, that when we got married, we walked into our reception to the theme from Shaft. For reals.
Black Dynamite the greatest homage to Blaxploitation this side of I'm Gonna Git You Sucka. It's clever, it's self-aware, it's a whole lot of fun, and it looks and sounds fantastic.
I love movies like this that aren't afraid to take risks, that aren't focus-grouped into an unsatisfying beige paste, that are unapologetic and proud to be different. If you like the same things I like, I think you'll want to give it 5 stars and a thousand upboats, too.