The Cat In The Drive-Through And The Man-Goat That Haunts Me

When I was in the first grade, I wrote a story entitled "The Cat." As you probably guessed, this story was about a cat. A talking cat that joined the circus, to be specific. It was pretty cute.

Well, it had the potential to be pretty cute. I had the setting, characters, and plot firmly established when I decided to make the feline protagonist leave the circus and abandon the main story arch. Instead of writing a interesting conclusion that made sense, I sent the talking cat on a mission to get some french fries. As a result, he spent an entire page (which turned out to be one third of the story) at a drive-through window. I think he sang his order to the tune of "The Twelve Days Of Christmas" and ended up getting a moldy cheeseburger. I'm not really sure.

I made some illustrations to go along with the story and took the whole works to school. I got some help making copies and sold one to one of my classmates for fifty cents. I was proud of myself.

Then I was forced to give the money back and make free copies of the story for everybody in class. I never really got over being bitter about that.

But I digress. The point is that I have had the same problem all my life: I come up with a good concept and then completely ruin it by running away on some weird tangent and losing sight of the original vision. I call this phenomenon "sending the cat through the drive-through." I guess it's my own personal version of "jumping the shark."

I've been overwhelmed with my "Goat Man" project lately. I've allowed myself to get stuck in the mud and become wrapped up in the idea that I have writer's block. I think the real problem is that I've allowed the project to mutate into something larger, weirder, and more daunting. In other words, there are cats going through the drive-through all over the script.

I was feeling reclusive yesterday when I got home from band practice and was beating myself up over having writer's block when there was a knock on my door. Not knowing who it was, I was reluctant to answer it. Though I absolutely love all of my neighbors here, I wasn't exactly in the mood for one of Lego Guy's philosophical rants or The Fonz playing the tambourine. I answered the door anyway and was glad I did. It was The Poet. He hadn't seen me at all that day and was just checking in on me.

This made me realize that I was spending too much time being stuck in my own head yet again, so I ventured into the kitchen to make tea. I discussed "Goat Man" with The Poet and came to the conclusion that I was letting the whole thing turn into something it wasn't intended to be. I've been getting too caught up in character dialogue, side gags, and the mechanics of writing for the stage that I've lost sight of my original intentions.

What was my original intention? Well, I wanted to write a rock opera about an individual that was half man, half goat. "An existential rock opera in the key of despair," to be exact. That was the original working subtitle. I got rid of it for awhile after one of my commune friends lectured me about my apparent misuse of the word "existential."

"Unless you've done shrooms and have spent five hours trying to figure out what is real and what isn't, you shouldn't use that word," he said. The title was a little too long anyway, so I dropped it. But I think I am going to reinstate the subtitle because I like the way it sounds. It also helps me return to my original vision for "Goat Man."

"Goat Man" is a comedy and a tragedy rolled into one. It's full of quirky characters and possibly thought-provoking situations. But mostly, "Goat Man" is about the music. "Goat Man" is something I want to see onstage, but it's also something I want to make an album out of. I've gradually lost sight of the fact that the music is the most important part in all of this.

So what am I going to do? Back up the car up, get the freaking cat out of the drive-through, close all of my Celtx documents, get out my notebook and a pen, and get all of the songs on the page. I'd like to believe that once all of the songs are in place, the rest will come.

After all, I'm in the best possible environment right now to create something like this. Everyday, I am reminded of how lucky I am to be surrounded by such encouraging and wonderful creative people. They are people that understand my insanity and believe in my crazy ideas more than I do sometimes.

I think my new favorite subplot is the strange friendship I have with the guy across the hall. You know, Mr. Merry Christmas Forever who stays up writing about mystical Omniverses all night and lives with a woman that never, ever talks. Anyway, he helped me carry my music equipment up the stairs after band practice last week and ever since then we've become email buddies. Yes, email. Yes, we live across the hall from each other. Yes, sometimes these email exchanges happen when we are both in our rooms.

And these emails aren't cute little one paragraph messages either. There's one in my inbox from him that I've been jokingly referring to as a 750 word essay. I was explaining this phenomenon to The Poet during one of our late night tea parties and he was baffled. "What on earth does he email you about?" he asked.

The answer? Music. Life in the commune. The story he's writing. Terrorism in the 1970s. Goat Man. Omniverses. Poetry. Aliens.

The Poet offered me fifty cents to be able to read the emails. But last time I fell into a trap like that, I had to return the money and make copies for everyone. So I refused the offer.

The other night I was washing my dishes at two in the morning and I ran into Mr. Merry Christmas Forever. "I have a disc for you!" he exclaimed. "I have a disc for you, too!" I replied. Our recent email conversation about music had resulted in burning music for each other. I handed him a mix of Amanda Palmer and he gave me a whole smorgasbord of Luke Haines. We then went into our separate rooms. A half an hour later, I get an email from him saying that the music I gave him was exactly the inspiration he needed for the scene he was writing.

I loaded the CD he gave me onto my laptop and it wasn't long until I was completely lost in the sounds of Baader Meinhoff and Black Box Recorder. I feel like I'm probably late to the party on knowing and loving this music, but it's been the only thing on my iPod for the past three days and I can't get enough of it. Weirdly enough, there are a few songs by Black Box Recorder that completely embody one of the characters I've been struggling with in "Goat Man," so it's been an inspirational listening experience.

Anyway, I am officially rambling here. I don't know if anyone will make it this far into this relatively mundane post. Congratulations if you have indeed made it this far. Gold star for you.

I'm off to the land of goats. I will close with a quote from one of Mr. Merry Christmas Forever's emails:

"...goats will be men and alien Empresses will be teenage hyperviruses and all will be right with the world... Call upon the strength of the man-goat that haunts you. Funny how even the dicier problems are easier to solve when you're admiring their complex, catastrophic beauty as you fix them."

That's all I've got for now. Hope everyone is having a great Wednesday!

P.S: Here is one of my favorite Black Box Recorder tracks if anyone is interested. Enjoy!

Memo To Human Resources

Note To Self:

- Next time I start to feel crazy for writing a rock opera about an existential goat man, I am going to just ask the writer across the hall to tell me about his latest comic book involving "clones living in vast Tantric omniverses."

- I should never write a love song for anything other than inanimate objects and fictional characters. Or, if I do ever write an actual love song, I should retire it when it is no longer relevant, regardless of how catchy it is. Otherwise, practicing it will just make me really sad.

- I should get my gaydar retuned. Seriously. I think I just spent a couple of months having a little bit of a crush on a gay guy. Of course, he has to be one of the nicest, smartest boys I've met in awhile. And he can dance. Crap crap crap.

- Vegan butter is not the same as real butter. It should be avoided when making cookies.

- Perhaps blogging should be an activity that can only happen before midnight. Maybe deleting this post in the morning will be a good idea.

That is all.

I Specialize In Hanging Out With Fictional Characters

The other day, I was hiding in my favorite coffee shop in attempts to get some solid work done on the "Goat Man" script.  I was just getting into a groove when my cell phone rang. 

I sighed.  The whole day had been like that.  In fact, the reason I was in a coffee shop was because my place was way too distracting.  I had intended to spend the afternoon writing and ended up giving people relationship advice in the kitchen instead.  I probably should have left my phone behind when I went to the coffee shop. 

But I saw that it was my bandmate calling me, so I answered the phone.  The conversation went like this:

Bandmate:  Hey, can we practice today?
Me:  Um, okay...but I'm kinda busy right now...
Bandmate:  What's up?
Me: (glancing down at the cartoon of Goat Man sitting on the table) I'm at a coffee date.

Bandmate:  Oooh, alright, well don't let me bother you.
Me:  Um, don't get too excited for me, it's a coffee date with Goat Man.
Bandmate:  What?
Me:  Practice at 8?

It's official:  I'm one of *those* people.  Ugh. 

But the project itself is coming along nicely, I think.  I sent the demos and synopsis off somewhere and got a surprisingly positive response (more on that when I know more).  My goal is to finish the first draft by the end of the month.  I have 17 days.  Yikes. 

I'm hoping to be able to see "Goat Man" come alive on stage this summer.  I don't know exactly when, where, or how that's going to happen yet, but I can figure that out after I finish writing the darn thing.  It could happen on the other side of the world or it could happen in the venue downstairs from my apartment.  I just have to see who's interested in it when it's all done.  If you guys have any ideas for where "Goat Man" should be performed, I'd love to hear them!

Though I'm probably getting ahead of myself.  Counting my chickens before they hatch, or something like that.  Okay, that's not quite the right saying, but you know what I mean. 

On that note, I should probably get to work on the script.  Expect a more interesting update sometime in the near future.

He's Half A Goat, Half A Man...

Tonight was interesting.  I'll be back tomorrow to tell you a story that involves cocktail weenies, dancing in the mail room, and sending an unintentionally suggestive text message.  But for now...

Here is the main theme from "Goat Man."



Please forgive the cheesey fake guitar solo at the beginning.  It's a demo. 

Anyway, that's all for tonight.  Thanks for listening.  Love you all! 

I Am Not A Sexy Super Villain

So Goat Man is far from complete, but I do have a demo ready that will be shipped off tomorrow. Okay, so it's not quite ready yet, but it will be ready by the time the post office is open.

I am ridiculous.

Noteworthy things that happened tonight:

- I attempted to record a demo of the song that the seductive bad girl sings. I was going to have a friend help me out on it, but I ran out of time. The song is a duet between the bad girl and Goat Man. It's the song where she tries to seduce him and he rejects her. I am the voice of Goat Man too. So ultimately, the track is three minutes of me trying to seduce myself. Yeah...it's sitting on the cutting room floor right now...

- I learned that writing awkward and neurotic songs about cell phones, psychiatrists, and existentialism comes much more naturally to me than writing seductive bad girl songs. I'm the female Woody Allen. I am not a sexy super villain. I'm just not.

- The Poet and The Fallen Nun talked me into showing them my student film from college. It's been a really long time since I had seen it and it was like looking at a portal into a distant world.

- I've decided that not having hot water on command is bad for my general mental health. I've developed a cold shower strategy and routine, which is not really something I enjoy, neither is it something I've ever wanted to do. I don't mean to keep bitching about it, but I'm ready to join this century again.

- Time is becoming elusive and irrelevant. The night owl schedule isn't helping things.

That's all I have to report at this time.

More coherent post coming soon.

Also, snippets from Goat Man will be up here at some point for you listening pleasure! I figured if I'm going to constantly ramble on about it I might as well let you guys hear a little bit of it. And you guys are just plain fabulous, so I'll share a little bit of my rock opera madness with you. But first I have to figure out how to upload it, which may take me awhile. Haha.

I think that's really all I have to say.

*waves goodnight*

Unorganized Brain Nuggets (Now With Even More Cholesterol!)

Hot water is still out of commission.  It's been almost two weeks now.  Today I caught myself microwaving a water in a bowl so that I could wash my hair.  What is my life coming to?

In other news, Original Sound Trash has a show on the calendar.  And here I thought the band was slowly dying.  Apparently we're not.  Cool.  

The show is over a month away, but I think I just spent a good half an hour discussing wardrobe options with my neighbors in the kitchen.  I guess that means I'm really comfortable here - usually I just save that whole "what-do-I-WEAR???" conversation for my mother.  But it's a legitimate thing to think about.  I don't want to bore you guys, but there are really a lot of roads I could go down as far as rock show attire is concerned.  

Okay, so maybe there are only three main roads to take:

a) sequins

b) fur

c) black leather

Combinations of any or all of the above are also acceptable but may be considered over the top.  I'm leaning towards leather, but if anyone has any profound input I would love to hear it.

I feel like this is one of those posts that probably doesn't need to exist but I will hit "PUBLISH" anyway.    I mean, look at me - I'm talking about clothing and hair and my mundane plumbing problems.  Snore.

Been working on "Goat Man" a lot but I never seem to get as much work done as I think I should be doing.  Lately, Goat Man has been sticking his little hooves into the ground and refusing to move forward.  He's a stubborn little guy.

I did manage to write a new song.  And record it.  As a duet with myself, because I couldn't find a singer.  I edited the pitch on my voice to sound like a dude.  Then I took it down way too low and I sounded like Darth Vadar.  I think it was at that point I got frustrated and put that song on the back burner.  But not after sharing the Darth Vadar track with a couple of friends down the hall, of course.  

Maybe someday, a documentarian will refer to this phase of my life as "the early years leading up to Lauren's big debut as a writer/rock star/freelance hippy."  But right now, I feel a little more insane all the time.

Did I mention that it's the best kind of insanity?

On that note, I should probably sleep or something.  

Goodnight, comrades.  

Merry Christmas Forever

I'm feverishly working on Goat Man again today, but I feel the need to take a short break and write this post.

I don't think I've ever written about the guy that lives across the hall from me. I don't see him very often - he's quite elusive and stays in his room a lot. He keeps weird hours and isn't always very social. He's thirty-something, has big black glasses, and spends his time writing Hollywood crime novels and drawing wonderfully twisted comics. He greets me enthusiastically whenever he sees me (elaborate hand gestures are usually involved). Sometimes when I'm have band practice in my room, he'll yell ridiculous praises down the hall (usually something along the lines of "YEAH! ROCK AND ROLLLLL!!!" or "YOU GUYS ARE F#$%ING OUTRAGEOUS!!!").

Anyway, for the past week and a half, he's been wishing everyone a Merry Christmas repeatedly. Sometimes, it will be in a weird, Tiny Tim-esque voice. Sometimes, it will be in a jolly, Santa-style fashion. Sometimes it will just be a "I can't get enough of Christmas! Merry Christmas! MERRY CHRISTMAS FOREVER!"

I think "Merry Christmas Forever" is my new favorite catch phrase.

In other news, I recorded some demo tracks for Goat Man today. It's been a weird day. I've been going back and forth between being totally excited and confident about the project to feeling overwhelmed and unsure about the darn thing. Also, the feeling that I'm just plain crazy has not subsided. I think it's gotten more intense.

Apparently, this insanity is noticeable. I was editing some audio tracks in the kitchen and The Poet handed me a folded up piece of paper. "Here, refer to this from time to time when you need to," he says, then leaves to go smoke. I unfold the paper. It looks like this:

Good to know, I guess.

Anyway, I should get back to work. Or sleep.

You know, I think I would feel less crazy if I had hot water and could take a hot shower whenever I wanted to. Argh. I'm so greasy right now! Ewwwww.

But I digress. Over and out, amigos. Or should I say - Merry Christmas Forever.

Insane In The Membrane (Insane In The Brain!)

So I wrote gobs of stuff yesterday. I stayed up the night before puking out sheet music. I slept for almost five hours, then got up and spent the day puking out more sheet music and writing more songs. I felt manic. I felt inspired. I felt a little bit like a crazed lunatic. I took a few breaks to graze on various things in my refrigerator. A friend knocked on my door and brought me Vietnamese food. I left the room a couple of times but mostly I just let myself get lost in the saga of Goat Man. It was really great.

Today hasn't been as great. I overslept and my plan to clean/rearrange my room so I can use it as a recording studio tomorrow turned into quite the complicated affair. I even ended up leaving my cave (and my project!) for several hours to see some old friends from college that were briefly in town. I'm glad I got to see them, but all of the conversations were about practical, adult-type things like grad school, finances, and interior decorating. I sat there in my new fur beret and felt like I was on a completely different planet.

Here in the commune, we refer to "normal, functioning members of society" (those with corporate jobs, practical life plans, spouses, houses, children, etc.) as "balloons in orbit." I have never really fit into that "balloon world," but now that I'm living in a community of artists and am pouring hours of my life into writing a rock opera about anthropomorphic goat men, I feel as thought I've fallen out of the orbit completely and am floating around in an entirely different galaxy.

That sounded a lot more cosmic than I intended it to. But you get the point.

In other news, as I was cleaning my room today, I discovered that I still had a pile of crap belonging to Tweaked Out Elvis Costello. We really only hung out for about a week and a half, but somehow that was enough time to acquire the following items:
- a broken amp
- a shorted guitar cable
- two bad microphones
- a stove top

For whatever reason, he stopped talking to me and I hardly ever see him. But I still had all of his junk. So I piled it outside of my room with his name on it and sent him a "COME PICK UP YOUR CRAP" text message. The pile disappeared sometime early this afternoon while I was in my room cleaning, so I can only assume he picked it up.

But the pile was there long enough for The Poet to see it and ask me about it when I was in the kitchen making tea. "Okay, kid, I get why you might have his amp, but...a stove??? What the hell was that all about???" he says, raising an eyebrow.

I am laughing so hard that it takes me forever to tell him about the time Tweaked Out Elvis Costello insisted on bringing his stove into my room to cook spaghetti.

"Lauren!" says The Poet, laughing so hard he can barely talk. "Next time there's a boy, NO STOVE TOPS AFTER A WEEK AND A HALF!"

That sounds like a really good rule to live by.

Aaaaand now I should get back to Goat Man. I think I'm ready to focus again. I think I feel another episode of the crazy brain thing coming on. Time to rock and roll.

Over and out, comrades.

It's Official: Lauren Really Is Insane This Time

Lauren The Snowflake

So Christmas was wonderful.

It was a different sort of Christmas but a lovely one.  I was once again reminded of how lucky I am to have so many great, supportive people in my life (i.e: family, friends, hippy neighbors, blogger friends that live in my computer, etc.).

I've also committed myself to doing something insane.

Remember awhile ago when I was babbling on about the rock musical I've had rolling around in my brain for ages?  You know, the one entitled "Goat Man Is All Alone Tonight (And So Am I)"?  Well, I'm going to finish it.  I'm going write the whole darn thing, record demo tracks, compile a character list and synopsis, and ship it all to the east coast by the 10th of January.  There's a residency program of sorts that I'm going to go out on a limb and apply for.  Honestly, I doubt I'll get in since I feel like I barely know what I'm doing, but I'm putting my nose to the grindstone and trying anyway.  If I get it, I'll get to have my play produced this summer potentially.  And if I don't get it, I'll still have a mostly finished musical on my hands.  I think I'm a girl that needs a deadline for things, so it's a win-win scenario.

That being said, you may not see me in the blogosphere a lot for the next few days.  I'm descending into hermit mode.

Oh, and my hot water is gone and I've spent most of the day in my sweatpants.  This seems to be the cliche starving artist part of my life.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a completely different program than the rest of the world.  I felt like that today especially.  Though most people have reacted positively to my Goat Man idea, I am yet to find someone who really understands my vision for it.  I feel like I'm a little bit insane.

But I also feel like The Universe itself is yelling at me and telling me to hurry up and write this crazy Goat Man thing.  In the past three days, there have been so many little random moments and conversations that seem to be screaming "LAUREN, WRITE THAT GOAT MAN THING!"  


So here it goes.

This Post Has Nothing To Do With Bacon, But I Really Want Bacon...

So the show was a success. I think. I had a blast and people seemed to enjoy themselves, so I think that means it was a success.

There weren't a ton of people there, but that's okay. The two "groupies" that are always at trash rock shows were there. Ryan was there. A few of my neighbors from the third floor of the commune came (The Poet had organized a carpool). There were some hipsters from the second floor there. And then there were a couple of strangers. It was the perfect sized crowd - not big enough to be completely intimidating but not small enough to be totally awkward.

Of course, having people I know and love there didn't stop me from being an intense ball of nerves. I kept fiddling with my iPhone and discovering new comments popping up on my last post. Made me grin and feel loved by the blogosphere. So, thanks for that, amigos. :)

I continued to be a nervous wreck until the moment I got onstage. Actually, I think I was a nervous wreck until about the third song. Then I turned my brain off and slipped into my rock and roll persona. I honestly don't remember a whole lot of the show after that third song. It's a strange phenomenon that happens when I perform - Regular Lauren (the one that is typing this right now) goes away and is replaced with Rock Star Lauren. When I watch footage of Rock Star Lauren, I feel like I'm watching footage of an entirely different person.

Speaking of footage from the show, a couple of you have expressed interest in possibly seeing some. You might regret that. Sheri sat in the front row and grabbed some videos for me on my digital camera. I will post a few on here for your amusement/entertainment. Watch them at your own risk. And keep in mind - this is the first time I've ever really done this by myself.

This is a song I wrote when I was about 19 or so:

This is a song that had never really left my notebook until last night:

This is a song from the rock opera I'm writing. It goes into a song I wrote a couple weeks ago when I couldn't sleep. I thought it was probably the worst song I played but people were telling me it was their favorite.

Last but not least, this is a song I dedicated to all my friends from the commune that were in the audience. It's a song written directly to the hot water in the building we live in (it doesn't always work like it should...).

Anyway, enough with the videos. I think that's enough proof that I really did follow through on doing a solo show.

And you know what? I kinda can't wait to do another one. I really want to, actually. I would love to get into the groove of doing that twice a week like some of my musician friends.

The "after party" was a little bit intense. When I got back home, I discovered The Chef was celebrating his 60th birthday in the kitchen by drinking any and all alcohol he could get his hands on. People of all ages were awake and celebrating with him. When I came in, they were really excited about the fact that I made it through my first solo show.

I found myself hanging out in the kitchen for a really, really long time. Cake and casual conversation slowly evolved into vodka and story time. There was a point where all of us should have gone to bed, but everyone's story was just way too interesting and none of us have traditional employment. So we didn't go to bed. We went around in a circle and talked about our various life experiences. We talked about crappy jobs we've had. We talked about why we feel the need to make art and how it's so easy to feel misunderstood. We talked about love and heartbreak and those who have temporarily destroyed us in the past. We laughed. We cringed. We relived things that once made us cry and realized that they aren't worth crying about anymore.

We all went to bed when the sun was about to come up. I woke up a few short hours later in a zombie-like daze. Though I was groggy and had a headache, I couldn't help but feel content about where my life is at right now. Excited, even. I think I'm finally being that person I want to be.

On a completely unrelated note, I am sitting in the kitchen typing this right now. It's almost midnight and The Chef just wandered in with a slab of raw bacon in his hand. "I just really want bacon!" he whispers to me. "So I'm going to make bacon!"

And now he's frying a single strip of bacon on the stove. I absolutely love living here.

I should really go to bed. Especially before the smell of bacon makes it over to where I'm sitting...

Too late. Now I want bacon. Crap.

Ah well. I shall go to bed baconless. Goodnight, amigos. Sorry if this post has been less coherent than usual. I plan on actually sleeping tonight, so I should be back to my normal level of coherency tomorrow.

Peace.

Another Post That Really Isn't About Much

Here's an ancient cartoon my mother showed me this morning when I was feeling sad:

I don't know why I find it so funny, but I do.

Maybe I just needed a good laugh this morning. I've been thinking too much again. My life continues to play out like a low budget indie film, leaving me overwhelmed and confused. I'm tempted to change my name and move to South America, but that would probably be considered counter-productive.

So I'm going to make myself a cup of tea, hide away in my living-room-turned-office, and write like mad. Tomorrow I'll go back to putting together articles that might sell, but today I want to make some serious progress on the "Goat Man" script. It's a good day to be a reclusive writer, a good time to get lost in my own fictitious, anthropomorphic universe.

Maybe if I'm feeling brave, I'll record snippets of some the songs I've got for "Goat Man" and throw them up here. But only if I happen to feel brave. :D

Anyway, I'm off to my living room/office/cave. Over and out.

Happy Ending?

I don't know if "Goat Man" is going to have a happy ending or a sad ending. I want him to get the girl but that might be too cliche. I really don't know. I've always liked stories with sad endings.

Anyway, I'll be taking a forced hiatus from "Goat Man" and will have a little time to mull it over.

I'm leaving to go volunteer at a summer camp tomorrow.

I just remembered I don't really like children.

Goat Man Wishes The Phone Would Ring (And So Do I)

I hate phones, but sometimes I get so sick of Facebook communication. Sometimes it feels so impersonal. Phone calls take more effort, but sometimes I really like them.

I've spent years hating phone calls. But now that the whole world is transitioning over to text/Internet-based communication, I miss hearing people's voices. And on days like today - when my phone doesn't ring at all - I wish that someone would work up the old-fashioned initiative to call me just to say "hello."

Of course, there's a good chance they'd be saying "hello" to my answering machine. I'm notorious for not answering my phone. But that's besides the point.

In other news, I searched my entire house today and finally found my purple notebook that has been missing for a couple of months. I archive my entire life in notebooks and am terrible at keeping track of them, so it's not completely weird for one to go missing. But the notebook in question had the main theme and some important notes for my "Goat Man" musical I mentioned in my last post. I was about to give up and start over on the theme when I found it in the very bottom of a box buried in the closet (don't even ask how it got there - I'm not really sure...). There was much rejoicing.

Then I opened the notebook and realized that the theme wasn't as developed as I thought it was, and the notes weren't as extensive as I had remembered them being. But it inspired me a little bit. Actually, I spent a good chunk of the afternoon excavating old songs from several notebooks and trying to make sense of the play's plot line.

It's a messy job but it has to be done.

I'm still a little stuck on why Goat Man is a goat man. He is half man, half goat and I don't really know why. I don't want the reason to be something bizarre/disgusting, but I want it to be believable within the story's suspension of disbelief. I've been reading up on Greek mythology (thank you, Wikipedia) in hopes of gaining some sort of insight on how one becomes a goat.

But alas, no real insight was gained. So I'm sitting here wondering if having a reasonable explanation about Goat Man's goatyness will really matter to audiences. Maybe it's just a weird gene that runs in his family? Maybe he ate too many oats as a kid?

Hmmm. He's in a psychiatrist's office for half the play anyway, so maybe the fact that he doesn't know how/why he is a goat man can become a plot device.

It's ridiculous. I've got almost 20 songs in the works for this project but barely know plot details. I know it's (mostly) a comedy. And a love story (goat meets girl, anyone?). And a musical. An existential rock opera in the key of despair, to be exact.

There I go walking that line between quirky and dumb again...

Engaging Neurotic Writer Mode, Captain!

I suffer mornings most of all
I feel so powerless and small
By ten o’clock I’m back in bed
Fighting the jury in my head

- "Have To Drive" by Amanda Palmer

"Who Killed Amanda Palmer" has been playing on my iPod a lot over these last few days. Life is weird and overwhelming, but that's how it goes. Sometimes I feel stuck in the mud. Today was one of those days. I got up early, but by ten o'clock, yeah, I was back in bed.

I got out of bed eventually, of course. Went into town, got some coffee, read music magazines at the nearest bookstore. Did a lot of thinking. I think that sometimes I focus so much on trying to keep other people happy that I forget about what is important to me.

The day got better. I watched Wes Anderson's "The Darjeeling Limited" with my family tonight. I know I sound like such a cliche white person/film geek/hipster saying this, but that film makes me happy every time I watch it. I grin every time Adrian Brody runs past Bill Murray to catch the train (in slow motion!) before the opening credits. I laugh every time Jason Schwartzman maces Owen Wilson in the face ("I LOVE YOU BUT I'M GOING TO MACE YOU IN THE FACE! AHHHHHHH!"). I get hooked into the characters every time and am always smiling when that French song plays and the end credits roll.

I really want to write a script like that someday. I want to tell a story that people can get hooked into and find joy from again and again.

Writing is hard for me sometimes. I always have a million ideas rolling around in my head, but I have a hard time shaping them into something manageable. By the time I get my mind wrapped around some sort of plot, I become bored with the idea and move on.

I have had one idea floating around my brain for a little over a year though. It started out as just strange, late-night sketches in my journal and evolved into a full-length Broadway musical. I think it might be a good idea, but I really don't know. I need to be more disciplined. I need to devote time each day to working on it instead of just waiting for INSPIRATION. A lot of the songs are already written and all of the main characters are in place. I've even got a couple of scenes down. And a title - I have a title! "Goat Man Is All Alone Tonight (And So Am I): An Existential Rock Opera In The Key Of Despair." Might have to shorten it if it ever actually makes it to Broadway - that's a lot of put on a marquee.

Anyway, I have all of that. I just need a plot. And the discipline to write it. And confidence. Sometimes I second guess my ability to write something decent and then end up writing nothing.

Gah. Speaking of second guessing, I'm doing it right in this very moment. The concept of "Goat Man" is kind of out there. There's such a fine line between quirky and dumb. There's also a fine line between ingeniously funny and offensively strange. I feel like I may be in danger of crossing both of those lines with this.

But I guess I'll just go with it and see what I can come up with. It can't be worse than the 50 page stink bomb of a screenplay that's still saved on my hard drive from a couple years ago. "And Would You Like To Be Fried With That?" was the name of it. It was about some nerdy guy who worked at a fast food restaurant and spoke with a fake British accent. I think maybe the idea had potential but I jumped the shark with it pretty fast.

Anyway, I'm descending into rambling mode once again. Bed time for me. Goodnight, my darling blog friends.