Books I Love: Open Net

Posted on By Wil

This week, for Things I Love, I've picked out some books that were extremely influential to me in one way or another. Yesterday, I got my geek on. Today, I'm putting on the foil, coach.

I was never an athletic kid, as I've documented clearly (and painfully). When I was 16, though, I got it into my head that I really wanted to play hockey. I guess the chance of injury in baseball just wasn't great enough, or something.

I wasn't that big, so defense was out, I wasn't that strong, so offense was out. I was quick and flexible, though, so I decided to get some gear and learn how to be a goalie.

I know, I know. The thing is, over the years I've learned that some of us were just born to be goalies, and it's something that can't really be explained to people who haven't blocked a net in some sport. In fact, we can't even explain it to each other; it's just something we do because we can't not do it.

What makes this seemingly insane decision kind of noteworthy is that I was a scrawny geek who did all of this while living in Los Angeles, which isn't exactly known as a hockey town. Many of the rinks we played on were only half-jokingly compared to driveways with crushed ice thrown over them (Van Nuys, anyone?) or so small it was a real possibility that a goalie could score a goal for his team (North Hollywood, anyone?)

I loved hockey with a fever that no amount of cowbell could cure. The only thing I liked more than playing hockey was watching it, and when I couldn't watch it, I read about it. Because I had a subscription to The Hockey News. Which was delivered to my house in Los Angeles.

I wish I could remember exactly how I came upon the book Open Net, by George Plimpton. I think my dad may have given it to me, and even though I'm not sure, I'm going to imagine that it happened this way:

I was sitting in my bedroom, playing Dark Castle on my Mac while Morrissey sang songs about how nobody understood me.

There was a soft knock at the door, and then it opened.

"Do you have a minute?" My dad said.

"Hold on." I clicked my mouse furiously, throwing rocks at divebombing birds. I miscalculated and my little adventurer guy Duncan died. It was my fault, and I knew it was my fault, but I sighed heavily and acted like he'd messed me up. I dramatically pushed my hair out of my face and turned around. My dad held something behind his back.

"I found this book that I think you'll like. It was written by a journalist who would play professional sports and then write about them. He played baseball, football, golf, and …" he revealed the book. The cover showed a familiar-looking guy wearing a Boston Bruins jersey. "…he also played hockey with the Boston Bruins."

He handed the book to me. I realized that the guy on the cover was the same guy who was in all those Intellivision commercials and hosted Mousterpiece Theater, a show I wouldn't ever admit still loving to my peers.

"He played goalie, just like you," my dad said, "so I thought you would like it."

My carefully-crafted appearance of bored indifference cracked and fell apart. I spent a lot of time convincing myself that my parents didn't get me and didn't know anything about me, but with one gesture and six words, my dad turned that all upside down.

"Wow, that's really cool! Thanks, dad!" I forgot to be sullen, stood up and hugged him. It meant more to me than I could express that my dad had given me something like that, which he knew would really matter to me. I quit my game, opened the book, and read until it was time for dinner. After dinner, I read it until I had to learn lines for Star Trek, and then I took it with me to the set the next day. In fact, I took it with me everywhere, until I finished it the following week. I loved it so much, I read it again a few months later, and again about a year after that.

I loved how George Plimpton could transport me right between the pipes with him. I loved how he could turn a phrase, and how he always wrote like we were equals. I wondered if, some day, I'd be able to write about cool stuff that I'd done.

In a part of my mind that I didn't even know was there, a seed was planted and, very slowly, began to grow.

You know, now that I think about it … not that it matters, but most of that is true.

Also, I would be greatly remiss if I did not link to this wonderful song about George Plimpton by Jonathan Coulton.

Tomorrow: the tenth dimension

in which wil has a good day

Posted on By Wil

Today was, as the song goes, and the movie says, a good day.

I woke up before my alarm, feeling rested and relaxed. My dog met me before my feet hit the floor, and followed me to the kitchen, wagging her tail and nuzzling at my side the entire way. I grabbed a cup of coffee and wrote for about two hours, before I headed down into Hollywood to have breakfast with an old friend who I never get to see as much as I would like.

We talked for a couple hours, and then he had to go meet a director.

"I love it that I get to say, 'I have to go to Hollywood to meet a director,'" he told me.

"Yeah, when you get there, he'd better be wearing a beret and holding a megaphone, or I'm going to be disappointed."

It was wonderful to see my friend, who I'm keeping anonymous because I didn't ask him if I could blog about hanging out. He's awesome, though, and it meant the world to me to get together and catch up.

When he went to meet his director, I went to meet my friend Shane for lunch. Shane and I met at the ACME Comedy Theater years ago, and we've been friends ever since. I also don't get to see Shane as much as I'd like, but I always love it when we get together.

Lunch was awesome, and when it was over, Shane said that he was going to send something to Twitter about it.

"Dude," I said, "we have to do a coordinated message. It'll be hilarious."

We looked at each other for a second while we thought about it.

"Where do we start?"

I opened my phone and started typing. "How about … Having lunch with @ShaneNickerson. Cleverly coordinating tweets."

We giggled like idiots.

"That's funny," he said.

"But then what? Is it only going to be funny to us?"

We both looked up and typed simultaneously. "This is only funny to us."

"I still have a bunch of characters left," I said. "What are we going to do next?"

We thought about it a lot longer than we should have, and kept laughing about it the whole time.

"Let's take this to the writer's room," I said.

"Yeah," Shane added, "and we'll see how we can punch it up before we take it to the network."

We were really giggling like fools, now.

"How many characters do you have left?" I asked.

"Fourteen."

"I only have six."

"Wait. How do I have more than you?"

We looked at each other's phones.

"Oh," I said, "because my Twitter name is shorter than yours. Dude, you totally win at Twitter."

We shared a look, and knew what we had to do. We both erased whatever it was we thought we were going to send, and entered the new text.

"This is only funny to us, right?" I said.

"Probably, yeah."

"That's the best reason to do it. Okay, it's 3,2,1 and then we post it."

We steadied ourselves, and got ready to go.

"3, 2, 1, send!" I jammed my thumb down on the send key, and Shane did the same.

Here's the result, as seen by Twitteriffic (click to embiggen):

Simultaneous tweeting

We walked back to Shane's office, working on one of my Crazy Ideas on the way.

"What are you going to do with this thing?" He said when we were done with it.

"I have no idea, but I really, really like it."

"Yeah, it's awesome. I totally love it."

We approached some paparazzi, who were staking out a film set.

"For about two minutes in the 80s, I was a guy who those jerks
bothered. I don't ever want to be that guy again," I said. "It really
sucked. I do not understand why people crave that kind of attention."

We passed them, and I resisted the urge to say anything. They're just guys doing their job, I guess, and standing on the sidewalk is certainly less intrusive than ambushing people at the airport.

"You know who they don't care about?" I asked when we were about a block away.

Shane held his hands out wide and pointed his thumbs inward. "These guys," we said in unison.

We waited for a light to change, and I looked around. We were right near Sunset and Gower, and had walked past Hollywood and Vine just a few minutes earlier.

"I love being here," I said. "Even though it's a dump, it feels like it's my dump."

Shane looked at me.

"That didn't come out the way I intended."

Shane looked at me again.

"Poop."

Yes, we're hilarious comedians (in our own minds) when we get together, and poop jokes are gold, Jerry. COMEDY GOLD! As the light changed and we walked across the street, I continued. "I mean that coming down here recharges my batteries, and reminds me why I haven't completely given up on being an actor."

"I know what you mean," he said.

"Even though going on auditions is like Sideshow Bob versus a dozen rakes."

I was quiet for a moment while every frustrating audition in my life flashed through my minds in a matter of seconds.

We got back to his office.

"It was great to see you today, Shane."

"Thanks. Good to see you too."

"Let's get together sooner than later, okay?"

"Yeah, totally."

I drove home, along the same route I took to get to Paramount in my teens, and drama school in my early 20s. Though my thoughts kept drifting to youthful dreams unrealized, I couldn't feel too sad. I don't have the acting career I wanted, but I have a writing career that's pretty awesome, and today I got to see two people who mean the world to me. When I got home, my dogs nearly knocked me over, and my family greeted me with open arms.

It was a good day.

Books I Love: The Hacker Crackdown

Posted on By Wil

Now that we've figured out which one is Pink, allow me to welcome you to the machine…

In the late 80s, I kind of knew a bunch of people who were involved in what we called The Computer Underground. They weren't my friends, and I couldn't even tell you what their handles were (well, I could, but I won't) but I learned a ton of stuff about technology and other mysterious subjects by dialing into BBSes and reading the textfiles they left behind.

By 1990, I was spending less and less time online, while I continued to struggle with my existential acting crisis. I read books about acting, and all of them left me cold. I read books about filmmaking, and I just didn't care about them.

Then, in 1992, I saw this book called The Hacker Crackdown on the front table at a book shop. I was intrigued, and I started reading. After standing at the table for a long time and getting deeper into the book than someone who is standing at a table near the front of a bookshop should reasonably get, I bought the damn thing. I finished it within a day, and before a week had elapsed I had read The Cuckoo's Egg and Cyberpunk, the only other books on the subject that I could get my hands on at the time.

On one level, The Hacker Crackdown is about how the US Department of Justice launched a nationwide operation to bring down a bunch of hackers in something called Operation Sundevil, but it's also about a subculture and its people who remain misunderstood to this day. Most importantly, introduced me to a world where information and intellect were incredibly valuable, and it inspired me to learn all that I could about the online world I'd eventually call my home. On the way from there to here, I met a lot of the people who are in the book, and formed some friendships that lasted for years.

Cory Doctorow said that The Hacker Crackdown changed his life and it "inspired me politically, artistically and socially." He's not the only one. I can draw a very short and very straight line between reading this book and learning how to navigate the World Wide Web, which is what we called the Internet before you damn kids today were born.

In 1994, Bruce Sterling released the book online, and in 2007, Cory Doctorow recorded the entire book as a series of podcasts. If you want to understand how we got here, I'd say The Hacker Crackdown is required reading.

next time: the prince of wales

Books I Love: A Saucerful of Secrets

Posted on By Wil

I’m very busy working on a few different things, including the craziest idea yet, but it’s important to me to maintain momentum and keep posting in my blog, so it’s time for another series of Things I Love.

This week, I’m going to highlight some books that were important to me when I was becoming an adult in my late teens and early twenties. All of them will be instantly-recognizable to certain people, but I think it’s likely that they’ve flown beneath the radar for most of you, and are worth pointing out. All of them, though, were very influential on my young life, and played a significant part in shaping the person I am today.

First up is a wonderful biography of Pink Floyd.

A Saucerful of Secrets: The Pink Floyd Odyssey starts in the late 1960s when the band was formed by Syd Barrett, and continues all the way through A Momentary Lapse of Reason. It chronicles the band’s rise, the tension among them, and their eventual breakup.

I read this when it was published in 1992, at a time when Pink Floyd – especially The Wall and The Final Cut – spoke to me on a visceral level. I still enjoyed performing, but I was struggling with my distaste for the film and television industry. I was lurching from one shitty forgettable movie to the next, and wondering just what happened to my once-promising acting career. I felt like everything I’d spent my whole life working on was falling apart, and I wasn’t even sure if it’s what I really wanted to do with my life in the first place.

When I read this book, and followed the entire history of this band that meant so much to me, including all their creative struggles, it was comforting and inspiring, and I think it may have played an unconscious role in my decision to leave Hollywood (literally and figuratively) and go work for NewTek on the Video Toaster 4000.

Even if you’re not having a Seldon Crisis about your life, it’s still a great book. While a lot of the information contained in it can be found online in various places, it’s well-organized and enjoyable to read it in this format, and the hardback edition I have comes with a bunch of great art, as well.

next time: the ghost in the machine