Thursday, November 26, 2009

The Shed

The bolt cutters snap
Lock falls
      clink
    clink
The shed doors open
with the pull of many hands

Tonight I’ll see in full
all that I’ve glimpsed through the cracks
in those rickety walls

There is so much to see:
boxes, jars, trunks and chests
ancient tools, forgotten toys
stacks of yellow documents
journals that say don’t tell anyone
        in scrawled and ever-tremulous handwriting
        the closer to the present we get

There is so much history here
So much fear.

Love has been here too, don’t forget,
    though the echo is faint,
just as the sound of dread
murmurs gently in the spaces in between
those portraits and anniversary plates
catching wayward light in the living room

There are things you put on your mantle
        or hang on your wall,



                                 and then
there are things you put out in the shed,
hoping no one will see
what you cannot leave behind.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Bennett

tattered, baggy cloth

draped and billowing;

trash bags with holes for your limbs.


there is beauty in you

that trash bags cannot hide.


some days, you wear clothes:

shirts that fit, a long skirt, maybe even

a little beanie.


there is beauty in you

that real clothes cannot contain.


some days, when your eyes

appear before me suddenly -

revealed by an opened door, perhaps,

or a turn of the head -

i can't help but say Wow

and smile like an idiot child,

and you look at me like i have no taste.


or, maybe, you think i'm lying.

making fun of you, even.


like, maybe it was a mistake

to think that perhaps today

you deserved better

than to throw your body out with the trash

where you think it belongs,

where no one would ever look

expecting to find something wonderful.


well. fuck that.


you are young;

young enough to make me old,

old enough that you wouldn't believe me

if i told you just how beautiful

i think you are.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Why Games Workshop Employees are Weird

I've always wondered why Games Workshop reminded me so much of the porn section of a DVD rental store. I enjoy Warhammer 40,000 immensely, as I do porn. But whenever I walk into a GW, I suddenly feel acutely uncomfortable, like I need to make my purchase and get the hell out of there before anyone recognizes me. Which is odd, because otherwise I'm entirely unabashed in my love of the game and its universe, in much the same way I do not hide my love of porn. In fact, I'm quite vociferous and opinionated when it comes to both. So why the geographically dependent shame? It's a problem that's been puzzling me for years.

The reason for the porn section shame (and not a porn shop, mind you; its specifically the porn section of a DVD outlet) is rather obvious. Pornography, despite being wildly popular, is socially perceived as a very uncouth and shameful thing. So, when placed in a situation where public scrutiny lurks literally around every corner, it's easy to feel judged, and being judged always puts you on edge no matter how self-assured you may be.

The reasons for the Games Workshop shame, however, eluded me for the longest time.

I made a minor breakthrough when I realized that it wasn't shame I was feeling, but rather a discomfort that encouraged me to disassociate myself as much as possible from the clientele and the staff. I realized that the geeks present are too geeky, too lacking in social skills, and there are never any people who remotely resemble me or my friends. But more importantly, the employees weird me out even more. They are a little too social, as if they had been heavily trained in how to fake having social skills. GW staff members always stand one foot too close to me, and they never leave me alone. They always attempt to engage me in conversation, even if I'm clearly uninterested in talking to them, and feverishly persist in attempting to sell me a model no matter how eloquently I manage to state my intentions to simply look around. And every time I saw them conduct an introduction game for curious n00bs, they cranked up the volume on their vocal chords and then unhinged their jaws. Every single intro game played in a GW is loud and obnoxious.

In other words, my realization was that GW employees are That Guy at the bar, the one who doesn't understand that She's Just Not Into You. Which in turn explains why everybody who spends time at the store is a total dweeb, because only total dweebs would not be turned off by such socially inept behavior. However, that left one question vexingly unanswered: why are all GW employees so creepy?

It took unemployment to unexpectedly gift me with the answer.

In my search for a job in my new home, I decided I should apply to GW. I made this decision because I figured GW is in desperate need of people who can communicate to normal human beings as well as buck-toothed troglodytes, and because I'm good at figuring out what army a given person would prefer to play. I wouldn't be the kind of employee who tries to saddle every n00b with fucking Space Marines, I'd actually go through the trouble of getting them interested in an army they could care about first. Also, I'm good with women, and women need to be able to walk into that store without suddenly hearing all the drool hit the floor at once (I swear to Solid Snake, I once walked into a GW with a girlfriend and I kid you not, a customer felt compelled to say, "I had a girlfriend once" completely out of the blue, just because he saw her with me). I figured they'd want to hire me because I'd add an element of mainstream credibility to a place crying out for it.

So I filled out my online application and was called in to do a group interview. It took me an hour to get there, because I live in the eastern outskirts of the valley and the "LA Battle Bunker" is located all the fucking way out in Westminster. When I got there I discovered that there were quite a few candidates, about twenty-five, all men between the ages of 16 to 65 - with the exception of one woman, who was probably in her late twenties. As we waited outside, the managers gathered inside the store and began loitering about where we could see them, presumably preparing for the arduous and grueling "assessment" process they had warned could potentially take up to four motherfucking hours.

First red flag: One of the managers, a black dude probably in his mid-forties, began bunny hopping around with his arms tucked up under his chin and a stupid grin smeared across his countenance. It was bizarre and it was unprofessional, and I couldn't decide if that was a sign of a relaxed and awesome work environment, or a sign of just plain uncomfortable weirdness.

Second red flag: One of the managers walked outside with a clipboard for all of us to write down our information. Then he stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and lips pursed, looking over everyone and muttering, "Nice, nice," to himself and occasionally interjecting a judgmental comment like "I see some of you busted out the ties, nice, nice." The whole vibe I got from that guy was that he was regarding us as living room decorations on sale.

I was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable by the time we were ushered in, but things started to normalize very quickly. The managers introduced themselves along with their favorite movie and the reason why it was their favorite, and made us do the same. Then they took us in to watch a powerpoint presentation on the values of Games Workshop, the nature of the business, and the expectations for the employees. I was one of the only people who answered questions succinctly and correctly, most notably "What is a vertically integrated business?" which apparently no one else knew (thank you Joshua Muldavin!). There was one poor Asian kid who didn't speak English very well, and he was asked to give examples of a niche business. Unable to understand the question, he proceeded to talk about why he thought Games Workshop was interesting, and was met with an uncomfortable silence. So, needless to say, I was starting to feel pretty good about my chances: I had successfully displayed intelligence, knowledge, and eloquence.

Then things took a permanent detour into Crazy Town. They organized us into two teams of roughly twelve each to play one of their (apparently) trademark loud, obnoxious, and completely illogical intro games while we were taken away three at a time for small group interviews. Here's the bizarre part: they made us sing a song. Let me repeat that: they made us sing a fucking song. It went a little like this:

There are ork fighta bommas in the sky!
There are ork fighta bommas in the sky!
There are ork fighta bommas,
There are ork fighta bommas,
There are ork fighta bommas in the sky!

The Imperial Navy shot 'em down!
The Imperial Navy shot 'em down!
The Imperial Navy,
The Imperial Navy,
The Imperial Navy shot 'em down!

And here's the kicker: they heavily insinuated that our commitment to singing the song would be kindly regarded, and straight up told us that if we were to randomly start singing the song while we were playing, it would be "a good thing." So, naturally, everyone who was a born ass kisser started singing this annoyingly idiotic song while we played. For a while, I sang along too, albeit without any enthusiasm, because it was embarrassing as hell, and then I simply stopped. This was precisely the sort of behavior that turned me off from being inside a Games Workshop, and here we were, twenty-some-odd mostly men in shirts, slacks, and ties singing about ork fighta bommas as if we were drunk off our asses while curious potential customers were trickling through the door. The regulars were there already, paying us no attention, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Finally, it was my turn to be interviewed. I was handed a cheap plastic skull and told to come up with a pitch to sell it for $49.99 along with my two other fellow interviewees (one of which, unfortunately, happened to be the asian kid who wasn't entirely on the same page as the English language). It was hard not to laugh, because I wasn't sure if the irony was intentional (for those of you who don't know, much of GW's merchandise consists of incredibly overpriced pieces of unpainted and unassembled plastic), but I did the best I could to come up with something sensible. I don't remember exactly what it was, but something having to do with the many uses of a skull as a decoration or a prop, and the inimitable quality of the Games Workshop craftsmanship.

Still a little shaken from the being forced to sing at a job interview for a retail position selling plastic miniatures part of my experience, I was feeling only somewhat better about this part of the process, though the inclusion of the asian kid on my team was a little like what choosing basketball teams among the twelve disciples must have been like ("Alright, fine, we'll take Judas"). However, any hopes for a return to sanity were quickly dashed when the managers told us, "We do our interviews a little differently here." They then took out a deck of cards and told us that on these cards were questions we'd have to answer, and one of us would ask another candidate the question, each of us taking turns. The catch was that we'd have to ask and answer in the manner of their (the managers) choosing.

I was the first up to bat. The pitcher had to ask as Captain Hook, and I had to answer as Peter Pan. The question was something like, "Tell us about a time when you had to confront a friend, colleague, or superior."

...

For those of you unfamiliar with Peter Pan, allow me to provide some pertinent information. Peter Pan is the poster child for perpetual immaturity, not the kind of character you'd want to emulate in answering a question about integrity of character and personal responsibility. Moreover, Peter Pan has no distinguishing characteristics aside from being small and androgynous; the little fuck doesn't even have an established voice, accent, or syntax. Captain Hook is a pirate, and pirates are their own ethnic group. This is simply not fair. To complicate matters further, I've confronted a ton of people, but they've all been friends and the issues were always complex, and to talk about what the issue was and how it was resolved is simply inappropriate to bring up in a job interview.

So, to my utter shock, I found myself literally speechless for what must have been nearly a minute as my brain furiously tried to think of any situation that resembled a confrontation that did not involve intimate relationships, at the same that it was trying to figure out how the hell to portray Peter Pan - let alone combine the two. Eventually, my brain decided to hell with this and started talking about times when I've had to deal with belligerent and senile faculty when I worked tech support at my alma mater. At first, I tried to talk about as childishly as I could, but I quickly realized that it was impossible to adequately answer the question and still sound like I was eight. So my brain dropped all pretenses at being Peter Pan and just decided to answer as honestly and coherently as I could. I figured the important thing was the answer, not my portrayal of Peter Pan.

Boy, was I wrong.

I finished with my answer and one of the managers (the one who had been muttering "Nice, nice" to himself earlier) simply said, "Well. That was certainly interesting." Another manager, who looked deeply disappointed, shook his head and said, "You know, I hate to say this, but that wasn't really Peter Pan at all."

I simply sat there and didn't say anything. I felt humiliated, because their reaction was basically, "That was a pile of shit we just saw there." But more than humiliated, I was dumbfounded and angry. I couldn't see how this had anything at all to do with my knowledge and enthusiasm for Games Workshop games, or my ability to sell the hobby. And I couldn't understand how I could be judged on my ability to do so based on how well I could impersonate Peter Pan.

And on it went, and it got worse. Ask as a cat. Answer as a dog. Ask as if you have Tourette's, but without profanity. Ask as a ninja. Answer as if you're totally insane. Then we were asked to give our pitch, but halfway through our presentation, they stopped us and forced us to do it over as Elmer Fudd, Bugs Bunny, and Donald Duck (yes, Donald, not Daffy). It became clear to me then, as I crawled under the table with a pen (a.k.a. carrot) in my mouth, that the purpose of this interview had absolutely nothing to do with our abilities as salesmen, hobbyists, gamers, or even thespians. Their critique of my Peter Pan performance notwithstanding, they actually weren't interested in the quality of our renditions at all.

And then I had my answer. I realized why all Games Workshop employees are creepers. It's not because they are the most sociable geeks they can find and have to settle for them. It's because these are precisely the kind of people they want. They don't care how intelligent, passionate, personable, responsible, hardworking, attentive, or knowledgeable you are. All those concerns are secondary.

The thing they care about the most is how willing you are to humiliate yourself on command.

What they want are people with no sense of personal dignity, people who wouldn't stop to think for a microsecond about why they should be making a fool of themselves in public at the behest of a total stranger who does not even provide a reason other than "do it." Why? Frankly I have no idea. I would say it's because they have a paranoid obsession with blind obedience, but the willingness to make an ass of oneself is clearly important, as it is a heavily encouraged method of running introductory games at the store. So what is it? I wish I knew.

I do know some things a lot more clearly now, however. For example, I now know why their staff members behave like parasites, glomming onto you in a furious and awkweird attempt to get you to buy something, anything. It's not because they lack social skills, it's because they lack a respect for you. Because they do not respect themselves, they cannot respect your desire to be left alone or your need for personal space. Because they do not respect themselves, they cannot respect the games they are selling or the mentality of the mainstream population; it would never occur to them that by behaving like overgrown screaming toddlers while running a game that resembles 40k in the same way that a horse-drawn carriage resembles a Thunderbird would have more negative consequences than positive.

Which leads me to my point. Games Workshop is a niche store, true. But then again, so is the Apple Store. Technology is just as much the realm of geeks as tabletop games. Non-geeks think of computers as little terminals that have Microsoft Office and the internet, so what does it matter what kind of computer you've got? Geeks know that it matters one whole hell of a lot, which is why we are picky. And Apple computers, not being the business standard, are always chosen because of personal preference. So why is it that Apple is expanding and profiting so remarkably now, and enjoys not only household familiarity, but also a cultural reverence as being emblematic of cool, young, and hip? Why is it that in any given Apple store, the geeks are heavily outnumbered by people old and young who simply want to check out the cool gadgets? Because Apple knows that what it has to offer is cool, and can be appreciated by a wide market. But Games Workshop thinks that what it has to offer can only really be enjoyed by a narrow market, despite the fact that their games and the universes they take place in are infinitely fascinating and alluring in the same way that books and movies are. In other words, Apple respects and believes in the quality of its product, while Games Workshop does not. One mindset leads a company to hire capable, knowledgeable, and extremely socially adept employees to man the floors of their stores, drawing countless n00bs into the world of technology. The other leads a company to choose employees that have no idea how to talk to people comfortably, and to utterly misrepresent and demean their product as something that can be played as quickly and as thoughtlessly as a game of Candyland.

Games Workshop is closing its store in the Glendale Galleria because the rent is too expensive. Apple just opened a new store in Manhattan's Upper West Side and there were crowds lined up on opening day.


P.S. No, I didn't get called back for the second round of "real" interviews. And if I had, I would have turned it down.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Small Update

So, I haven't actually posted in a while; a poem doesn't count. And even though I don't particularly have anything to say, I feel like I have to at least update what few readers I have as to why I've been absent.

In short, I've moved back to LA after a two week road trip. I'm making a video about it (nothing remarkable about it, just a good ol' fashioned home video) that I'll be posting on Vimeo bit by bit as I work on it. I'm currently jobless, which sucks, but I did manage to land a gig as an editor for a short project called The Festival, which will be shot this coming weekend.

As for Light, that project long in gestation and abundant in growing pains, it finally has an IMDB page and I will be sending it off to more festivals. Maybe somebody will finally accept it, even if it isn't a heart-wrenching tale of love lost or perseverance in the face of adversity, or a feel-good quirky comedy about a young child trying to come to terms with the world through their innocent lens. It's a pretentious old-school arthouse film with none of that popular-kid-handheld-color-saturated-close-up-fast-editing stuff that's all the rage nowadays.

As for The Lagoon, that project even longer in gestation but remarkably quick in growing into adulthood, I'm currently waiting for someone to come along and help me with sound. I need a composer and maybe someone who can help me get rid of a really annoying buzzing sound. I'm still working on the pacing of the ending, which is pretty hard to do when you don't know what the soundtrack is going to be doing. I have no idea if I'm going too fast or too slow; music and atmosphere will be of paramount importance.

Then there are the other two projects, Neil Murphy's The Last Piece and Mario Paniagua's Shotgun Symposium. The former is chugging along nicely and I'll be making a trailer for it soon, though it needs intense color correcting. The latter is currently stalled on the side of the road, waiting for a few scenes to be reshot.

But yes, I promise more substantial posts in the near future.