BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

…A stately pleasure dome decree…

(This blog was originally entitled “Two in one day” as a reference to the fact that I had managed to find time to post two blogs in one day. However, the first of the two wasn’t important enough to bother with migrating it here from Myspace, therefore, some obvious editing has been done, but more importantly, the name has been changed to confuse the audience…)

Not a record, but damn close considering how busy I am these days… But, I happen to have a few minutes in between household projects today, and I have a small story to relate…

It all starts with birthdays. Now, in theory (notice I am pointing out IN THEORY) I have one of those coming up. Honestly, I am not all that big on celebrating it. I mean, yeah, as long as I am around to see them that means I’m not dead, but, they really aren’t a big deal to me. I guess it was just the way I grew up. In my family the whole birthday thing pretty much stopped being a big deal when you were about 12. After that, the only hallmarks were the biggies – 16 – driving time. 18 – voting time (and for the boys, registering for selective service). And, finally, 21 – Legal drinking age. Other than that, birthdays were more or less just another day.

HOWEVER, Evil Kat’s family was exactly the opposite. Birthdays are a big deal. They have some manner of compulsive need to celebrate them. Now, it used to be that each and every birthday was celebrated individually with dinner, etc. Nowadays, with everyone being older and having a ton of things to do, scheduling such has become a nightmare. Therefore, in the interest of making it all work they have started doing birthday’s by quarters – i.e. 1 gathering for January – March birthdays, another gathering for April – June birthdays, and so on.

I was hoping that when they got combined it would be easier for mine to get lost in the shuffle. However, it has not. I made some seriously intense attempts at convincing folks that they had my birthdate wrong, with plans to do the same when the bogus date I offered rolled around. The idea was that I would be able to keep them bouncing back and forth so that they would forget it. Unfortunately, EK overheard and sold me out.

So, they know when my birthday really is…

Okay, now let’s add insult to injury. Every year I am asked what I want for my birthday. For some odd reason, “nothing” is not a sufficient answer for these folks. And, as always happens, EK ends up poking and prodding until I give up an answer. I tried tossing really expensive items out there in hopes that they would get the hint, but alas, that didn’t work either… So, in recent years I have finally given in. I have started giving them lists of inexpensive items that I would like to have, but haven’t had time to buy for myself.

(Guess what? I’m not actually to the point of this blog yet… But, you’re used to that by now, I suppose…)

So, last night was the 1st Quarter Birthday Gathering. This year I had supplied a list of DVD’s I wanted to add to my library. For those of you who don’t know this, I tend to collect TV series and movies that have either inspired me, or have some connection to my younger days…Stuff like Millennium, Pretender, The Die Hard Quad, etc… Among the movies on my list this go around was a cult classic, and one that most folks wouldn’t figure as my kind of flick – Xanadu.

Yes, Xanadu. The glitzy, schmaltzy, Olivia Newton-John pop-rock musical fantasy flick about a boy, a girl (actually a mythical goddess), and a roller disco.

Now, I am sure you are asking yourself, “why in the hell would Sellars, of all people, have a movie like Xanadu on his list?”

Well, actually I expected the family to think the same thing. I mean, horror writer guy wants a campy roller disco movie? Doesn’t really make sense, does it? Well, they didn’t bat an eye, so I got myself a Xanadu DVD among my gifts last evening.

But, back to why… There are many reasons…And, they are all relatively simple… Here are just a few…

1) Remember the bit about a connection to my younger days? Well, Xanadu hit the theaters the summer before I went away to college. As it happened, there was a cinema a few miles away that ran it as a matinee – all summer. So, since I often had nothing better to do, I would finish my running around in the outdoor mall then go park myself in the air conditioned cinema with a soda and a hot dog, and watch Xanadu. Admission was something like a buck fifty… Couldn’t beat it.

2) Yeah, but why Xanadu of all movies? Three words and a hyphen. Olivia Newton-John. In my youth, like many other red blooded males, I had it bad for ONJ. A crush of mammoth proportions. I mean, how could you not? That face, that body, those legs, that accent…And she could sing too. What wasn’t to love about the woman? Hell, I can remember spending a small fortune on 10th row floor tickets when she came to Saint Louis on the “Get Physical” tour. I even owned all her albums… For you kids, albums are those big, black, round things with grooves. They are what we dinosaurs had before CD’s. You can see them in museums, and if you are lucky, your parents might even have a few stashed away in a box somewhere.

3) Gene Kelly. Yeah, Gene Kelly is in the movie. And, while he only has a few dance numbers, we are talking about GENE FREAKIN’ KELLY here! He made it look so easy! And, getting to see him dance was a treat.

4) The music… Yeah, some of it is pop, glitzy, disco stuff…But, remember that was a part of that era. ELO (Electric Light Orchestra) and Jeff Lynne did quite a bit of the music. I happen to be an ELO fan.

5) ONJ’s character is a Muse. As in the Greek Goddess… Daughter of Zeus…all that jazz. Now how cool is that? I mean, she’s exactly what I would have wanted my muse to look like back then… These days, well, my muse is a redhead and she dresses a bit differently, but we won’t go there…

Anyway, those are just a few of the reasons…And, because of them, Xanadu has pretty much stuck out in my mind for years. Now, I heard that it had been redone as a Broadway type musical, and even saw some clips from that. Honestly, I think they hauled off and took a completely wonderful, campy, movie and totally ruined. However, there is still the original on DVD.

Which finally brings me to the point of this blog. I’ve been busier than hell and haven’t been able to spend much time with my family as of late. So, today, in between loads of laundry I took a couple of hours to hang with the munchkin’ now that she’s feeling better and over her stomach flu (I was hanging with her when she was sick, but that really wasn’t quality time if you know what I mean.) Anyway, we decided we would open up Xanadu and give it a watch, since with her being 8 she had never seen it, and it had been years since I had watch it as well. I fully expected her to enjoy the movie because she is all about music, dancing, and that sort of jazz.

And, she did.

What I didn’t expect, however, was that when the movie was over she burst into tears. I had no idea what was wrong, until she sobbed “that was beautiful”…

When I thought about it, I realized she was correct. And, maybe that was a hidden allure of Xanadu all along. Boy meets goddess, boy loses goddess, boy stands up goddess’ dad to get goddess back, and in the end, he does.

Who wouldn’t love a story like that?

More to come…

Murv

Being on a book tour is hard work.

On the outside, looking in, it probably doesn’t seem that way to most folks. But, trust me, it is. Take, for instance, this most recent tour.

Each day, Morrison and I would get up at the buttcrack of dawn. As in 4AM or even a bit earlier. Sometimes a bit later, but not by much. This would immediately be followed by us complaining about how we were too old for this crap. Instead of giving up and going back to sleep, however, we would take our turns getting a shower, then stuff all of our “possibles” (as Morrison calls them,) into our respective suitcases, and then spend a few minutes disassembling and reassembling the 3 dimensional puzzle that was the trunk and back seat of the rental car. Once we had jumped up and down on the trunk lid a few times, finally getting it to latch, we would hop into the vehicle and hit the road. Our first stop would usually be the office of the motel for a cup of coffee and a stale donut. If no such comestibles were available to us, we would find a Dunkin Donuts, local diner, or even a stop ‘n shop where we could grab the aforementioned caffeine and carb fix.

Then, Jane, AKA “the bitch in the box” would bark her orders at us as we navigated the streets of unfamiliar cities, eventually making our way to an unfamiliar highway, then striking out on the next leg of our journey. The drive could be 4 hours, or it could be 7. It all hinged on where we were expected to be next (as outlined in the sacred blue folder, which lived for 15 days tucked behind the sun visor on the passenger side of the car…) Sometimes we had to be in one place by 11AM, only to turn around and be in another place by 6PM. Somewhere in that mess we also needed to check in to our motel, freshen up our road weary faces, and do what it is that one does when your job is signing books and entertaining workshop attendees.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. Both of us truly enjoy going on book tours and meeting folks. I’m simply pointing out that this is NOT the glamorous life you see depicted in movies. It’s work. It’s tough work. And, it involves long, long days and nights. Typically, our work day is 14 to 16 hours.

You will notice in the above diatribe that nothing is mentioned about lunch. Just the stale donut and coffee at 5AM or thereabouts. Why no lunch? Because, when your schedule is that tight, and you are zipping across entire states going from bookstore to bookstore, lunch isn’t always an option. That stale donut/bagel and weak coffee is your primary sustenance for the day.

By the time you get finished with the appearances for that calendar date, it is almost certainly close to being the next day. As in, 11PM or after. You climb back into the car and head for the motel…or to the home of a friend where you are going to crash…and set out again. Sometimes the friend or motel is close. Sometimes it’s two hours down the road so that you are just that much closer to your next gig. It’s just the way of things. When you get where you are going, you suddenly realize that the donut and coffee are fully digested, every single nutrient that could be gleaned from them has been and has been used to its full potential…It also dawns on you that your adrenal gland, which has been keeping you upright for the past 8 hours is now tapped out. So, before you climb into bed to get your 3 to 4 hours of sleep, you roll into a diner and get a hamburger…or a cheese sandwich…or you even drop by the Quick E Mart and toss down one of those not so appetizing, pre-made, pre-packaged chicken salad sandwiches. (Well, I ate a sandwich, Morrison had M&M’s. I think she was looking for comfort food that night, and the Quick E Mart didn’t have a steak.) Anyway, the point is that you dump some kind of fuel into your system so that you can keep going.

So, what does this have to do with Pizza? Glad you asked.

After one of our gigs…I think it was in Rehoboth, MA, but don’t quote me, because I really did lose track of where and when I was (this is not unusual)…we had a one and a half hour drive to get to our crash point. We were staying with some friends who happen to live in Salem, MA. Since we had never been to their place before we had some directions with landmarks. A few minutes outside Salem, Morrison mentioned to me that one of the landmarks was the fact that their apartment building had a pizza joint on the ground floor.

Neither of us had eaten a thing since that morning. The magical word PIZZA had been uttered. We both looked at one another and said, “Pizza!” Our stomachs began to growl. Our mouths began to water. And, we said PIZZA! yet again. The monster was out of the proverbial closet.

We arrived at our destination, and with the help of our friends Kim and Alec, carted our luggage up to their spacious and exceptionally cool apartment. Kim called downstairs to order us a Pizza, primarily because we crawled out of the car and didn’t even say hello. We just kept saying, PIZZA and sighing wistfully. Fortunately, Kim and Alec are very bright and on the ball, which meant they were both able to quickly decipher the inane ramblings of two wiped out authors on tour.

The Pizza place was getting close to closing time so they told her they were only serving slices, and not making whole pizzas. Alarms went off. Eyes watered. Emotional breakdowns were on the verge of ensuing. Pizza was what we needed. Pizza was the only thing that would sustain us at this point. Without pizza we would wither and die. So, we all marched downstairs right into the pizza place. If nothing else, we were going to get a slice.

That was when Morrison gained a momentary spark of lucidity and genius. She looked at the girl behind the counter and said, “Are any of those pizzas back there whole?” The girl said, “Why yes, we do have a whole cheese pizza.” Morrison waved money at her and said, “Give it to me.” Note, she did not say “please, may we have that one,” or “would you be willing to sell us the whole pizza.” No, she said “Give it to me.” Obviously, since she was waving money she didn’t mean that the girl should literally “give it to her,” but it was obvious to everyone in the place that Morrison wasn’t leaving without that pizza.

I was reaching for my wallet. At that point we were both willing to toss all of the green we had onto the counter in order to obtain the sacred pizza. Fortunately, they were scrupulous folks and didn’t take advantage of us in our deteriorated states. We got the pizza, went back upstairs then stood in Kim and Alec’s kitchen, a slice in one hand, and a nice, cold, hard cider in the other. And we ate.

And we ate…

And we ate…

All in all, I can guarantee you that the pizza was pretty much average as pizzas go.

But, that night…Well, let’s just say on that particular night, it was the best damn pizza either of us had ever eaten in our lives.

More to come…

Murv

PS. In a day or two I’ll tell you about round two…New York style pizza (actually, they call it “pie”) purchased in New Jersey…