Author: Todd

I’d like to thank Ford, Michelin Tires, Los Angeles and Ventura counties, the state of California and my superior genes for getting Mel and I home from the Sagebrush grill alive and well this evening. An evening when I had absolutely no business behind the wheel of a motorized vehicle.

I’d like to blame it on the Sagebrush Margareta’s but I should really blame it on my inability to say “No”. Ronnie Reagan’s wife would be appalled. But holy orthoschloffing Batman, was the food good. For those of you lucky wankers coming to our stupid party, there’s no doubt you should dine well beyond what any of you jerkoffs deserve. We ordered one of each appetizer on the menu as well as at least six different margaritas. I liked the blue one. I don’t know what it was called. I don’t care what it was called. Mel keeps track of that stuff. I just sit there, drink and look stupid.

That’s me in college. I had zits on my forehead. Those glasses are fake. I’ve never worn glasses. But the antlers are real. I had them removed with money I made working for the CIA. Deep, deep undercover. Michael Moore’s boy toy. But that’s classified. All I can tell you is that you KNOW when that sumbitch is on top. My back has never been the same.
But enough about that. Let’s talk about sex with Dean Lorey.

It’s remarkably good for a guy who’s been shot in the back three times after being mistaken for the highly elusive sasquatch. But he’s not that hairy anymore. He’s got “people” who take care of that sort of stuff for him.
Ugh, I’m burping taquitos. They were splendidly fine going down, though.
So where was I? Oh yeah, Dean’s hairy bits. Look, this is a journal and it takes part in the written word. A certain suspension of disbelief is required. But I don’t want anyone to think that I have seen Dean Lorey’s private parts. For the record, I have not. It was dark.

High School. I loved High School. I know most people hated the experience but I embraced it it with full force. That’s Stephen Poole, Jonathan Miller and Jeff “Bo” Meyer and, of course, me in the horizontal position. I guess I was something of a Ferris Bueller in high school. I got along with everyone. I played football and dated the cheerleader so I had that circle of friends but it was no doubt the camping dudes I had the most fun with. Bo, on the far right, is now working in St. Louis as the brains behind some big Louis and Clark museum tour. Jonathan, in the middle, is in quality control, making sure the world is a safer place to live. And my good friend Stephen Poole died in a car wreck during our college years. A good man he was.
We called ourselves the Knighthawks. There were few water towers in the Western Kentucky area that escaped our two dollar spray can graffiti. The big event growing up in Kentucky was weekend camp outs. Most guys did it to get drunk…but we didn’t drink. And we’d found the experience a little dull sitting around a campfire watching our comrades get blitzed on peppermint schnapps. Growing up in construction I just happened to have a roll of duct tape in my fatigues one night and the world changed for us. We snuck away from the fire and one by one would abduct the drunks as they stumbled into the shadows the relieve themselves. Before dawn all drunks present were bound and duct taped in the woods. We thought it was a hoot.
But those days are gone. We grow up. We accept the world and all the sin it has to offer. I am now utterly duct tapeable. I have learned to embrace that which I once duct taped.
So, yes, those days are over. Once the most popular kid on the block, now my life is in the hands the bozos I used to get into fights to protect. I am a Hollywood working writer. “Working” being the keyword there. It means both good and bad. Good because there are a million out here who would gladly trade places with me. Bad because my money will run out and thus I have to keep working. But I’d do that anyway. I love what I do.

I’d rather be a wizard. A wizard who also knows how to use a sword, but writing ain’t bad. It’s been good to me. High highs and low lows, but it’s like that with anything isn’t it? I’ve made it. Of course, the lifestyle could get better and I fully expect that it will but it’s the adventure we gotta embrace. Shouldn’t we love the good moments as much as the bad? Ain’t that how we grow as human beings? Ain’t that what makes us transcend above the animals? Eh, who am I kidding. I’m in it for the loot.

But I got no complaints. Jason Voorhees killed me. Sure, many may laugh at the thought but few can make the claim. I get paid to do what I love. I’m sitting in Southern California where it never rains and it’s raining. My wife is cool. My dad can beat up your mom. I got Inos watching over my left and the spirit of Dean Riesner shouting “screw’em all” from my right. I got a fridge full of food and an Audi full of gas. I gots me some amazingly loyal friends and I’ve yet to meet an enemy I can’t beat up. I got no complaints.
Thus I leave you with the words of Jedi Master Rod Stewart…
Ever since I was a kid at school
I messed around with all the rules
Apologized then realized
I’m not different after all
Me and the boys thought we had it sussed
Valentinos all of us
My dad said we looked ridiculous
But boy we broke some hearts
In and out of jobs, running free
Waging war with society
Dumb blank faces stare back at me
But nothing ever changed
Promises made in the heat of the night
Creeping home before it got too light
I wasted all that precious time
And blamed it on the wine
I was only joking my dear
Looking for a way to hide my fear
What kind of fool was I
I could never win
Never found a compromise
Collected lovers like butterflies
Illusions of that grand first prize
Are slowly wearing thin
Susy baby you were good to me
Giving love unselfishly
But you took it all too seriously
I guess it had to end
I was only joking my dear
Looking for a way to hide my fear
What kind of fool was I
I could never win
Now you ask me if I’m sincere
That’s the question that I always fear
Verse seven is never clear
But I’ll tell you what you want to hear
I try to give you all you want
But giving love is not my strongest point
If that’s the case it’s pointless going on
I’d rather be alone
’cause what I’m doing must be wrong
Pouring my heart out in a song
Owning up for prosperity
For the whole damn world to see
Quietly now while I turn a page
Act one is over without costume change
The principal would like to leave the stage
The crowd don’t understand

So the Farmers and the Loreys drove out to Ventura to celebrate the Hungerford wedding. It was sweet and strange and all one might expect from a California wedding predominately made up of writers, actors and comedians.

Paul’s father supplied the wine from the family winery and none of it went to waste.
Dean and Elizabeth have been big supporters of Angela for several years now. As a matter of fact Dean informed Paul that their friendship relied simply on Angela’s becoming a part of the family. “You break up with Angela then you are dead to me.” And had we stuck around long enough after the reception to get a hold of the mike, Dean would have informed the crowd just that. “We like Paul…as long as he’s with Angela.”
The wedding had a very Star Wars undertheme, which anyone knowing Paul would come to expect.

Which is why I thought it odd that they would cut the cake with Bilbo’s old sword, Sting. Hey, I love Sting just as much as the next guy. But this is Paul we’re talking about. I can only assume that technology played a part so I decided to help them out.

Thus Sting was replaced with a blue Light Saber. This was the cake cutting as God intended it.
All the best to you Mr. and Mrs. Hungerford. May the Force be with you. Always.

Last night Mel and I spent the evening with the Loreys. Fantasy art was the subject of the night. J.P., the artist doing some renditions for Thunder, is officially moving from Florida to LA. He’s been offered a job working with…a video game publisher — I’ll keep the name under wraps for now.
After going through a bowl of fruit and devouring our delivery food, Dean and Elizabeth broke out Mel’s birthday present.

The frame is stunning but I cropped it out to reveal more of the painting itself. It’s an early Don Maitz, back when he signed at the bottom of the painting rather than hide his name within as he does these days. Maitz did the cover art for my four favorite fantasy novels. After introducing Dean to the books he loved the cover art so much he tracked down Maitz and thus began their long friendship.
Sometimes After Sunset is the title of above painting and it has a story…as all good paintings should. After becoming a Maitz fan, Dean saw the above painting on Ebay and eventually won the auction. Once the painting arrived and they got a closer look at it…Dark haired creepy girl drinking blood out in the woods? Hell, that’s Melanie. And the coincidences kept coming. Of all fantasy artists out there, Adam Marcus just happened to have a set of Don Maitz trading cards and one of the cards was of “Sometimes After Sunset”. After a visit and then thumbing through the cards, Adam called Dean immediately and read the back of said card.

Thus, Ms. Mellie almost didn’t get her little gift because that no good thief and trader in blackmarket stolen artworks, Dean Grover Lorey, couldn’t have given it to her had he gone to jail. So, Dean wrote Maitz an email. He explained that he’d bought the painting on Ebay and had only just learned of its having been stolen. Dean offered to give the painting back to Maitz. But that’s not what Maitz wanted. Don was just tickled that it had not only turned up but that someone he liked actually had it. I’m not certain how many Maitz paintings Dean has purchased over the years but Don is presently finishing a commissioned piece with a Wizard, Dragon and Dean’s children as subject matter. What I’ve seen of it in early stages is stunning. The point is, Don would rather see the painting in the hands of a fan and paying customer as the hands of a crook.
So it all worked out and needless to say Mel was stunned by the gift.

Above are our two Maitz paintings but don’t let the placements fool you. This pic’s been doctored. Inos, the blond, hangs in my office. The painting is the cover art for book one of Dave Duncan’s “A Man of His Word” series, my favorite series and my favorite painting. Miranda, the brunette and subject of this journal entry, is hanging over the fireplace but will shortly move to a spot over our bed. But for the purpose of this photo and the splendor that is Paint Shop Pro, I put the pics together.
We have commissioned a portrait of the lovely Ms. Mellie painted by the lovely Ms. Sarah and rumor has it there may be a portrait of the Lovely Ms. Todd coming as well. It seems clear we need a bigger place to accommodate our growing collection of artsy fartsy.
This morning Mel and I bounced over to Eggs and Things restaurant off Moorpark in the stunning county of Ventura and I’m still stuffed. The food was amazing. It makes eating at Denny’s not unlike eating out of a fat man’s butt.
This afternoon we’ll be taking part in the celebration of Paul and Angela. I pulled the suit out, it’s fine. My two white shirts are wrinkled. Gonna try to sucker Mel into ironing one of them.

It’s time for action. Time to attack. Time to take the fight to them.
Spent the morning brainstorming assorted spec ideas. Once a year I’ll meet with my agent to discuss the status quo and alter the plan of career attack if it’s needed. So, I’m journeying to ICM on Monday to have a sit down with Nicole.
I’ve come up with a list of possible specs and will add to the list throughout the day and weekend.
I did speak with Brad and David at Tiger yesterday. They watched the MassD trailer and asked for the outline. They also mentioned the Painkiller crew passed on Psychopath because they want to put all of their energies into Painkiller II. Brad said they were going out to other developers. And evidently Demonik is undergoing some changes based on my first level rewrite. I’m not sure of the details but I gathered that my influence was a good thing.
The big Bloodrayne II launch party is in LA next week. Several from the Demonik team have asked, “We’ll see you at the party, right?” “What time are you going to the party?” To which I reply, “Oh, you mean the party I wasn’t invited to?” Then we have a good laugh. One must understand that I have become the bad guy. Planned or not, my concerns with story have inevitably placed me on the side of evil Hollywood screenwriter. I actually expect a last minute invite but no doubt it’ll be a political invite.
Tomorrow I’m meeting Chris Carlyle in Burbank. Chris was the Top Cow executive back when I was developing Magdalena for Valhalla. The project tanked…well, first they tanked me, then later the project simply lost momentum…but Chris has stayed in tough. He’s now with a management company and wants to have a general meeting. I don’t think I’m interested in giving another 10 percent of my income away but I guess it can’t hurt to listen to what the ol’ boy has to say.
…Ok, scratch that. He just called and asked if we could push the meeting later in the day, which I can’t do. So we pushed it to next Thursday.
Friday night we’re dining with the Loreys and Saturday we’ll hook up with them to check out and most likely heckle Paul and Angela’s wedding.
We have a ghost. And a freakily odd one at that. I’ve never met a poltergeist of its like. Its great practical joke is to take the toenail clippers and ink pens and replace them with empty milk glasses. It’s starting to piss me off I don’t mind telling you.
But then, right now, everything pisses me off. I’m into my first week as a non-smoker and I hate everything and everyone.
Mommy’s alright, daddy’s alright, they just seem a little weird. Surrender, surrender, but don’t give yourself away.

You are Form 8, Demon: The Destroyer…but you are known to the world as Todd “Fight Me” Farmer.
“And The Demon took advantage of the chaos and seized civillization. With grace and style, Demon slit The Goddess’s belly and drowned the world in her blood. The Goddess, The Demon, and the world were no more.”
Some examples of the Demon Form are Seth (Egyptian) and The Horsemen of the Apocalypse (Christian). The Demon is associated with the concept of destruction, the number 8, and the element of earth. His sign is the full moon.
As a member of Form 8, you are a very strong willed individual. You don’t let others’ opinions sway your own and you’re usually not afraid to speak your mind. However, some may see you as a bit overly passionate but it’s just because you never back down from your values. No matter what, you always do everything with style. Demons are the best friends to have because they will back you up.
And now for the wifey…

You are Form 1, Goddess: The Creator…but you are known to the world as Melanie “Neglect Yourself” Brown.
“And The Goddess planted the acorn of life. She cried a single tear and shed a single drop of blood upon the earth where she buried it. From her blood and tear, the acorn grew into the world.”
Some examples of the Goddess Form are Gaia (Greek), Jehova (Christian), and Brahma (Indian). The Goddess is associated with the concept of creation, the number 1, and the element of earth. Her sign is the dawn sun.
As a member of Form 1, you are a charismatic individual and people are drawn to you. Although sometimes you may seem emotionally distant, you are deeply in tune with other people’s feelings and have tremendous empathy. Sometimes you have a tendency to neglect your own self. Goddesses are the best friends to have because they’re always willing to help.

Which Mythological Form Are You?
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