Wendago

At a time when one tries to ignore the simple fact of aging, oddly enough that seems to be the perfect time to have college and high school reunions. I’ve received some emails from ancient college and high school friends concerning both. I’ll get all the required information and then depending on current schedules we’ll see where we stand. That’s a polite way of saying I probably won’t attend either. But the world and my moods are ever changing so who knows.

That’s me in the goofy shorts and full head of hair. Solomon on drums, Fortner and Filbeck on guitar…who was the guy on bass? Name’s on the tip of my brain. If I had a high school annual I’d thumb through it, but I burned all my old high school and college annuals years ago during a witchcraftian evening of sacrifice to the Angels of Career Advancement. If you’re horrified get over it. Not only did my career not advance, now I don’t got any annuals. Mark? Mark something? Eh, I can’t remember. Anyway, Solomon I assume took over the family car lot. And I used his name in The Messengers for what it’s worth. Fortner was working with pharmaceutical companies last I heard. Filbeck’s a doctor I think. And as for the forgotten named bass player, I’ve no clue where he ended up. Eh…moving on.

Currently I am stealth typing. Young Izzie Rain is catatonic behind me. One rule we try to maintain in the Farmer house is to never let life get in the way of a good walk along the ocean. We walk the two miles to Starbucks every day. What the walk points out is the massive Baby Boom that’s underway. We pass several dozen strollers, wraps and Bjorns on our journey. We wonder how many of those newly arrived infants are of the Cylon race and will one day join young Izzie Rain in the coming Civil War. Once the evolutionarily advanced leadership is in place, Mel and I are hopeful that we will be looked upon favorably for our part in raising the future Amazon Queen of America 2.0. Then again, we may simply be fracked.
I had a meeting with JR and Rob Tapert at Ghost House last week. They made “The Messengers” but this was the first time I’d met either. As a matter of fact, until recently, they’d never even read my draft. Which I should boastfully mention, they seemed to dig. We discussed some ideas and may join forces down the road.
Development on the TV pilot with Binderspink continues. I’m preparing a pitch for the film version of a Marvel comic and after more moons than I can count, I’m told the Psychopath deal is nearly finished. I’m currently working on the last issue of Lycan and am awaiting notes on a spec I finished last week.

Above is William Stout’s cover for “Alien Pig Farm 3000” Issue #3. Issue #1 hits the shelves next month. The above issue hits in June. Of course, I hope people like it and respond favorably, but selfishly I hope it turns into a giant franchise leading to billions of dollars and the purchase of a house with a big Izzie Rain approved back yard.

And this is Mark Schultz’s cover of Issue #4 which will close out the series. No clue how the pre-orders are stacking up so I’ve no idea if the series will be a success or not but regardless it was a joy to work on. Which is probably why I was so quick to jump on the Lycan series.
Alrighty, I’ve rambled on long enough. I’ve more work to do than time to do it. Love and kisses.

In the years to come, when my young Izzie Rain finds herself making the top 20 finalists of American Idol, the above pic will no doubt be discovered and flood the Internet. There is a chance she will experience some embarrassment, then again, if she gets her daddy’s ego she’ll eat it up while feigning humility. As a result young Izzie Rain will end up with a record deal, a Revlon contract and a recurring role as one of the new 13 Cylons on Galactica 17.2.
That’s the future, let’s drop in on the past.
2006 will go down in personal History as one of my favorite years. Mel and I had a blast. And, of course, Izzie Rain showed up. At the same time, 2006 had its fair share of challenges. But with 2007 we had hoped to put the bad news behind us.

Sadly, Mel’s Step-Dad passed away in early February. He’s the one on the right.
Well, HE liked my sense of humor.
I actually loved the old bird and as many are well aware, I don’t much like anyone. If the stories are true, and I’m certain they are, in the old days he played hard. Don’t bug me none. Let he without a History of hard playing cast the first stone. But as long as I’ve known him, he’s not only played hard, he worked hard. A skilled laborer who dreamed of a life a skilled laborer would probably never see. He’d never been great with money management and making plans for the worst was just not something he’d considered. But in ’06 he was diagnosed with cancer.
After the chemo he started putting his affairs in order. Unfortunately, the chemo ended before it should have. It’s a long story. Basically some numbnut working for 10 bucks an hour put a decimal in the wrong slot. Robert Woodman was getting all the negatives of chemo yet never had a chance of actually killing the cancer. So, he walked away from the treatment. He walked away and said he’d never go back. And he never did.
And for a time, life seemingly returned to normal. He was here for my daughter’s birth. And when he and Melanie’s mother returned home, he spent his time planning their next visit. They bought tickets in advance. It would have been mid-february. While back at home, his IP address was a constant top ten at this website. Literally dozens of hits a day. The Izzie Rain Movie was accessed so many times, it alone was slowly filling up my bandwidth. He sent Izzie Rain gifts. He adored her.
The tummy may be the shortcut to a man’s heart but praising a daughter is certainly the shortcut to a daddy’s.
And although it wouldn’t be realized until after his death…he had indeed started making those plans. Plans for the worst. Small steps at first. But sadly there was much left undone.
He went back to work. And work he did. He was working 7 days a week when, as Gimli would say, “He fell.”
So, Mel and my young Izzie Rain are on the other-side of the continent helping Nanna with the mountain of arrangements that remain after the funeral has ended. After everyone else has gone back to their lives. But I’ll come back to that.
Nanna is the Grandmother name, by the way. I didn’t choose it. In fact, I was not invited to the meeting in which it was discussed, ratified and voted on. In marriage and family one must choose his battles wisely. This one, I let slide. Nanna it shall be. For Nanna is the only grandparent young Izzie Rain has now.
My mother has been gone since ’94. My father ran off with old Chuck Barris on some damn fool idealistic crusade, no doubt involving the CIA, Juan and Jose and a pack of magical fairies. Or would that be a herd of magical fairies? A flock?
And Robert Woodman passed away on February 9th at the disgustingly young age of 51.

You will be missed.
Missed but not forgotten.

As for me, allow me to wax selfish for a moment. I want my wife and child back. Yes yes, I understand why they are there. I recall my own mother’s passing. There’s far more to death than simply showing up to the funeral. There are bills to manage, accounts to cancel and consolidate. There are Death Certificates to deliver, meetings to take. There are medical bills and estate sales and even in this case, a house to sell. It’s no small task. And I’m well aware that Melanie rises to the occasion like few others. That she can accomplish in a week what most can’t in a year. Or more likely, what most simply aren’t willing to do at all. Obviously it’s easier to stand back and criticize than dive in and get your hands dirty. You have a woman grieving and then you have Mel, the creature strapped to one breast, a clipboard balanced on the other.
Of course, I still want them back.
When Israel was in Egypt’s Land,
Let my Izzie go.

So, while they’ve been gone, I’ve worked. I sped up to San Francisco for WonderCon and spent some time with Mark Schultz. He did the covers for Pig Farm #2 and #4. That’s #4 above. It’s gorgeous. Bradstreet actually sent the version with colors early this morning. It’s stunning. Patricia bought the original #2 for Tom’s birthday. Seems a shame to separate them but if Tom doesn’t buy #4 then I’m more than willing to pole dance for a week to raise the funds to buy it myself. It’s hard to hide my excitement with the comic book experience. Pig Farm hits the shelves in April. Perhaps Lycan by year’s end. And I’ve discussed one other project with Tom, Steve and Tim. And there are a couple of DC/Wildstorm projects I could end up writing. As well as Psychopath once all the paperwork is completed.
I’ve a couple screenplays making the rounds in the world of Hollywood. I’m told an offer is coming in on one. Guess I’ll hear this week if that’s real or not. And I’ll finish a spec today. The rough draft anyway.
I’ll be pitching a TV show this month. And am developing another with Benderspink.
I actually like this whole writing thing. I’m curious if you can actually make a living at it.

I jumped out of bed this morning and stumbled into my daughter’s room, as I do every morning, to check on her sleeping position (as of late, she has a tendency of mushing herself against the railing). It’s this stupid habit I’ve gotten into and I’m assuming one day, when she’s 43 or so, I will grow out of it. I wasn’t prepared for what I found. She was not there. Not a fan of the resulting emotional panic that follows a discovery like that.
Eventually the spark plugs in my brain fired, the engine coughed, sputtered and rumbled to life allowing me to recall the tiny fact that I had placed wife and child on a plane to Tennessee the previous day. Mel’s stepfather, Robert, passed away last month. We flew back for the funeral in early February but Mel and young Izzie Rain have returned to help with the remaining arrangements.
So, I did what most folks do when they wake up and finally gather their wits. I made a peepee.
Then I did 64 push ups and hopped my bike to Starbucks.

Mark Schultz: Issue 2.
Tomorrow I’m driving up to WonderCon. San Francisco is only two hours away and yet this will be my first visit. Initially I thought I’d go to do whatever hype and/or pole dancing was required for Alien Pig Farm. But since the books don’t hit the shelves until April there’s nothing to sign, nothing to hype. So instead I’ve a couple meetings then I’ll hook up with Allen and goof off. Might spend the night. Might not. Playing it by ear.
David Wohl tossed my name out to DC Comics and WildStorm while he was doing the NY ComiCon. He lied about my talent and professionalism enough to get their interest. I spoke with them a couple of days ago about a project they have coming up. It’s a monster project but it’s too early to go into details. We’ll wait until all the relevant papers are signed.
I spoke with Tim Bradstreet about a new RAW project, again too early to mouth off about it.
I’d like to spread my time between movies and comics and see no reason why that isn’t doable.

Today Dean sent me a jpg of a mind blowing piece of art JP recently finished for Dean’s Nightmare Academy. I won’t post the jpg since Dean would likely prefer unavailing it himself when he launches his new site in the coming months. But I can post a picture of JP. That’s him above. And yes, he’s clearly drunk.
So that’s it from dungeon central. I’m gonna set the alarm, curl up with a glass of Baileys, an episode of TiVo’d World Poker Tour and by sunrise I’ll be tooling up to Sunny San Fran. More incoherent ramblings when I return.

The Messengers opened this weekend to roughly 15 million. The above pic has absolutely nothing to do with the movie. A congratulations goes out to Wheaton, Bluestar, Ghost House and all those who managed to keep the little movie breathing through release.
I posted an Essay The Birth of The Messengers for anyone bored enough to wonder how it all started.
Today is Superbowl day and soon we’ll make the two block walk to rub elbows and mingle with the Puh’G’en muckity muck.
As a heads up, I’ll be hitting San Francisco’s WonderCon in March to rub elbows with the comic book muckity muck and say a word or two about Alien Pig Farm.
As for now, I have a date with a burrito and a warm shower. Not necessarily in that order.