» Fringe Blog – Writing on Film, Culture, and Things on the Fringe

Yes, Swahili Sue, There Is A Santa Claus

jelewis8 — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 20:31:17 +0000

Southern New Hampshire University/University of Limpopo South African Microenterprise Development Institution

Leave it to the Republicans to oppose microloans and small enterprise budget assists to economically disadvantaged persons of continents that begin and end with the letter A and don’t feature tiny Asian geniuses with advanced degree paths for minors. Yes, I’m talking about Africa and the Americas, two places where apparently it’s manifest destiny to die of starvation whilst your banana republic rulers and psychotic genocidal despots make mincemeat of the general populace instead of building the infrastructure and strengthening education pillars.

No, Alabama doesn’t apply, though you might have thought so. But while Fannie Mae is no longer giving out subprimes to backwoods illiterates, the clearest indicator of the success of the microloan principle is the fact that millions are presently living under the watchful eye of the welfare state. It’s not a lonely existence, nor is it devoid of merit. Why, just the other day Buck Muskrat and his family of eight began the long, arduous journey into the hills of Arkansas with intent to produce and distribute “mountain sweet water” across state lines. Thanks to government micro-handouts, they get to install new filters on their custom-built still, ensuring that their customers will no longer suffer debilitating blindness, retching, and liver disease.

But let’s transport the process overseas to the squalid savannas and craven cocoa fields. What happens when you give Swahili Sue a generous grant of two thousand American? Sue, with the entrepreneurial spirit of her long-necked ancestors, is able to collect shiny pebbles, paying the kids of distant tribesmen sweatshop wages to gather shells (dead animals or bullet casings, either one), while her cousin, the one who owns the funky bodega (which he secretly runs a Nigerian email scam out of), sells her radiator wire from junked and burned out vehicles. She now employs neighbors, who previously hacked *their* neighbors to death with machetes for a living, to construct necklaces and bracelets, which she is then able to ship to the nearest city market, where corrupt officials, after being given their own economic stimulus packages, allow her to maintain a booth in the market next to the biggest tourist draw in the city. Pretty soon Swahili Sue is pulling in $500 every month. After bribes and payouts, she is still the leader of the pack, and with her growing capital she’s able to employ even more.

Pretty soon she’s running a small shop inside an air-conditioned building. She gets calls from local politicians, who want her opinion on new zoning legislation. She threatens to move her business across the water if she doesn’t get a tax break from the local warlord, who it so happens, freaking loves those bullet casing necklaces. He cuts her a midnight deal, and now the two of them maintain one of the biggest jewelry trading outfits in the entire region. She’s making the real stuff now, including possible blood diamonds from south, in the Congo, but it’s funny how the greasy southerners always seem to have a fresh story about all the opportunity there is if you just open your eyes.

Swahili Sue is better than all that. She maintains a delicate balance, paying off the right officials to keep her operation running smoothly, but she also takes care of her people. Her factory floor fairly hums, and even pregnant workers get padded chairs to sit on while they set stones, hand-embroider little suede bags, and stuff pendants into jewelry boxes. This is the reality–you can’t run a business here without feeding the monkey, and the monkey drives a lot of cars, usually bulletproof vehicles with tinted glass and built-in bars with the country’s second best Amarula and ice. Sue looks at the papers every day to know what’s coming down the road–which ethnic cleansing may clean her country’s house next, which politician she’ll want to cozy up to and which one she’ll want to steer clear of.

And at the end of the day, when she’s selling her company to a guy who thinks he’s a businessman because he ran a regional sugarcane distribution center and whose rich uncle is subsidizing him, she’ll think back to that first $2000 someone gave her, and wonder how she came so far with so little.

Pick A Domain For My New Novel “Wayland” Contest

jelewis8 — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 19:17:39 +0000

You may or may not know that for the last year I’ve been working on a novel entitled Wayland. It is the story of a man who travels across the ruined landscape of America with a young boy. Unlike Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, this is not the story of a hopeless post-apocalyptic future, but is rather the story of the redemption of a monstrous man who nevertheless strives to be good in the face of his sins. While the story does contain what amounts to a zombie outbreak, the bulk of the story focuses more on the main character’s childhood (told in flashbacks) and his relationship with the young boy he is traveling with.

Themes of the novel revolve around information theory, recursion and computer programming, psychic landscapes and geographic neuro-networking, and epigenetics (the study of the development and maintenance of an organism orchestrated by a set of chemical reactions that switch parts of the genome off and on at strategic times and locations).

To help me begin the prep work of pitching and selling the novel to publishers, I want to set up a website for the book. And that’s where you come in.

CONTEST: Submit a domain name that is evocative and to the point.

RULES: To submit, you must @fringeblog on Twitter OR leave a comment in this blog entry by no later than October 13, 2009. There is no purchase necessary to enter the contest. You must be a citizen of the United States and at least 13 years old to enter the contest. Contest is valid from September 23-October 13. Contestants are allowed no more than five entries each.

Valid entries must contain an available .com domain name. Due to the nature of domaining, I will only be able to verify whether domains are actually available at the end of the contest. I will choose from the pool of submissions one domain that I feel works for the novel.

The winning entry will become the new domain for Wayland.

THE PRIZES: A signed copy of Wayland, a copy of 28 Days Later DVD ($16.99 retail value), and a $20 gift certificate to Amazon.com. DVD and gift certificate will be sent to winner no later than October 30, 2009. Copy of Wayland will be sent to winner when book becomes available for printing, either through a registered publisher or through an independent publishing entity.

WAIVERS/LIMITATIONS: Winning entrant agrees to waive all present and future rights to the domain. By entering contest you agree to allow Fringeblog.com and the author to use your name in advertising, marketing, publicity, and informational materials related to the book Wayland.

Fringeblog.com will not be held liable for any damages or injury to persons or things as a result of the acceptance of offered prizes.

Email or Twitter me for more information or questions.

Time and Again

jelewis8 — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 23:14:58 +0000

I’m always doubly and triply astonished at the manic pace of time for me these days. There’s simply no hint of moderation or even sad but useless regret–it’s just gone without a whisper, without a trace of its former glory or presence. Time just isn’t what it used to be. Thankfully, I still have more clip-on wings for the clock. They don’t last forever, but most of us are born with a good supply in the stock closet, and whenever one pair of feathery dusters wears out, we just pin the new ones on. We manage for a few years to find the best and brilliant wings, the ones with the brightest plumage, but we begin to realize the simple fact that after a while the dull, utilitarian ones are all we have left in the closet. They serve their purpose admirably, and in fact are more swift than their glamorized brethren. But they don’t make the splash like the ones that came before.
What is it about time that gets people to thinking? According to most physicists, time isn’t even really that great of a concept because it is only the flat representation of what is really a fully-featured dimension, with its own characteristics and qualities as yet unseen and unmeasured by humankind. We know it isn’t constant. Linear chronomic motion begins to slow in close proximity with an object of massive gravitational pull. It also slows the faster you go. But that’s not really what counts, is it? Because it’s our perception of time that is really at stake. And our perception is, as it happens, highly limiting.
We can’t, for example, see beyond the next bend in the river, so to speak. Think of time like a flowing body of water, almost more like a lake than a river, but with bends and bows, and it goes on and on and on, stretching beyond any point of comprehension. And imagine that we are in a boat on this wide, vast, endlessly curving river. This boat permits us to dangle our feet over and into the stream, and we can see ahead and behind…but only so far. Our sight is limited, and this river, as wide as it is, bends to the point of excruciation. Beyond the bend or our occular limits is the unknown future or the hidden past, long gone and irretrievable except in limited scope.
Why is our perception of time so different from what actually exists? Most people say that as the years advance they feel the days slipping by with increasing momentum, the years descending like a marble dropped upon a step. As gravity pulls us forward through time, we perceive an increase in our acceleration. And time seems so much faster then, our days shorter, our years swifter.

My Criminal Life

jelewis8 — Tue, 04 Dec 2007 05:52:10 +0000

It is important to remember that despite having an unhealthy interest in thrift store fashions and coffee shop writing sprees, and having a modest income and an even more modest sense of decorum in professional and intimate social gatherings, I have never had any problem advertising my ineptitude, apathy, delirious naivete, and oblivious ignorance of anything resembling good sense. In fact, I almost take a kind of demonic, or rather demented pleasure in posting my foibles and scalawaggery on a public forum, the most obvious of which is this here blog, in which I freely mix both high-falutin’ linguistical percolations and down-to-earth twangy homespun ruminations, the combination of which is, I believe, lethal to a few marsupials and hordes of undead hobos.
The point is, I feel absolutely no shame in sharing my sins in gaudy detail. Most of my motivation lies in the fact that my life is, despite what you may have read on this blog or other social networking sites, not a barrel of monkeys, laughs, or rollicking good times. I don’t have a bad life. I just have a life devoid of much excitement, drama, or fierce terror. It’s mundane and dry, routine and structured, and not even to the point where I could claim with some deprecation that it’s “scary how boring my life is.” The best I can say is it’s boring how boring my life is.
So I snoop for methods which might elevate my posture every once in a while. Unfortunately, this usually involves a significant decrease in the size of my bank account (never a mountain of tires in its heyday) followed by a signficant increase in the number of times I say the word “frick.”
“Frick,” if you are not aware, is a euphemism for something far less kosher and far more satisfying to say. And though I generally shy away from the Duct Tape of curse words, sometimes it’s all you have left.
In my latest urge to expose myself to ridicule and generally good-natured ribbing from those in the know, I have flagrantly flaunted the law, skirting for nearly two and a half years the California state code requiring one to register one’s vehicle at the local DMV. My reticence at doing so was first and foremost a thumb to the nose. I admit this freely. It’s not often I get a chance to stick it to The Man, and when I do, it’s always in a lame and unobtrusive manner. You might say I’m passive-aggressive in my anti-Man stance.
Point in question: I dare not shoplift, not even a candy bar (though I’m desperate to try it in an MTV Real World kind of situation), and I cringe at any criminalistic endeavours more hardy than a foot pressed vigorously upon the accelerator of my Honda Civic in a zone that encourages excessive speeds. So my natural course of action was to simply not register my car.
I know. It sounds so silly and stupid in this setting. And it is, no matter how you slice it. But man, it felt so good flirting with danger, knowing every time I got in my car was an invitation to get rocked by the cops for expired tags. I still had my Virginia plates on my car, with 2005 boldly proclaimed in the upper right corner. I definitely wasn’t being subtle, especially with my car looking the way it does. It’s not exactly the paragon of unobtrusive vehicles.
But there was more than just thumbing my nose at the man. There was also the sense of justice. My tax dollars are already paying for quite a few things I don’t support on a moral, political, or economic basis. In my rebellion I was secretly and happily supporting my own code of ethics and justice. Even knowing it wouldn’t last couldn’t stave my cautious anarchy against the state. I simply lived “as if” and enjoyed life as it came. Like a man who discovers he has a terminal disease, I took pleasure in simple things like those who take registering their cars take for granted. The sun on my faded and bent hood, the wind whistling through my well-ventilated defrost system; the empty place where my stereo once rested. I had been through so much, and yet had survived. Why would I let anything else derail me?
So the months continued, and I and my car festered under the golden glare of the California sun, under the baleful eye of the watchful LAPD, and for two and a half years, we lived. Words, my friends, do not provide adequate coverage of the emotions, the intensity of this time. This time, my time.
But all good things come to no good end. Sunday morning, the Los Angeles City Police Department cited my car and had it removed from my street without my permission, which makes it stealing in my book, but because I’m good natured and I am nobody’s fool, the ire I should perhaps have felt was morphed into amusement.
I was less amused by the back-registration and impound fees I incurred today, but it all boils down to this one thing: without my erstwhile and momentary rebellion, I would not have such a tale to tell. As it is, I can say I have seen the light, my feet are back on the straight and wide (four lanes, crawling forward, with no music), and I am once again legally tendered in the service of the state.
Was it worth it? My bank account says no. But my heart, my blog, and my love for you says yes.

The Music My Car Makes

jelewis8 — Mon, 05 Nov 2007 17:53:15 +0000

Monday. A time for speculation, gray matter scratching, pondering, waking up slowly, and meandering inside the comforting and familiar space of a coffee shop. At least, that’s what most Mondays are to me. Not today. Took one of the roommates to work in Van Nuys, due to his car being out of commission. The drive there–not so bad. The drive back–a nightmarish, tortuous wandering among side roads and main drags, skips and jumps on and off the freeway, down to inches crawling forward, soldiers in mud fields and bullets (I believe I saw a bullet-riddled car drive past me at an agonizing pace, like a wounded combatant still attempting his duties). The return might not have been so bad–I was making decent time, despite the above-histrionics–but I was rearended coming down Interstate 10, a scant five miles from home.
Granted, bumper-to-bumper snail driving doesn’t lend itself to explosive wreckage or excessive damage, at least not outside the world of entertainment and Michael Bay films (note, the two ideas are distinct and separate). So the impact was not great. But I, in my little Honda Civic, already battered by one wreck earlier this year, was nearly consumed by the Escalade that struck my rear bumper. Despite the slow rate of impact, I was jolted and briefly my heart rate went vertical. A minor bumper indentation and phone and license information later, I was on my way again.
It’s funny the things we consider important. I, for instance, rather like the squeaking my car makes as it careens over bumpy, ill-paved streets. It’s like an old chattering friend who only stops talking when the road smooths over. With the absence of my stereo, the squeaking is a bit rhythmic and melodic, and I feel comforted by the sound. Like an old Jewish mother who only wants everything in the world for her son, my car possesses an infinite variety of squeaks, creaks, cranks, strains, whines, and wheedles, all directed from the car’s heart, the center. And on a long drive in traffic, it’s my music. Should I get a stereo again, the music would change. But would I?

Austin Film and Video Production (A Business Observation)

jelewis8 — Mon, 22 Oct 2007 02:13:27 +0000

I was checking out the website of the Austin film and video production company Matthew and Company when I realized I could pretty easily set up something like this myself. I’ve got the ability to shoot and edit commercials for local companies who are just looking to get a presence out there and have a small budget. I’ve considered approaching local businesses with proposals for shooting commercials with a budget of around $3k – $6k, businesses who haven’t ventured into television advertising yet, but could easily do so with a bit of a push on their sales end.
This would take honing my proposal writing skills and my business acumen. I’d need to become better at evaluating potential clients with enough capital and cajones to be willing to work with an untested “commercial director.”
I believe I have enough on my reel to show them I’m more than capable. Speaking of, I need to update my reel and put it up on my website. I have about a thousand different things I need to do that relate directly to my burgeoning career direction. I’d especially be interested in pursuing these kinds of gigs, not just because the money isn’t terrible, but more because it’d give me more experience behind the camera and more networking opportunities. Because I’ve discovered something about myself of late:
I like putting my name out there, I like taking chances, and I like throwing caution to the wind and selling myself as a good asset. Because I am a good asset, and as a freelancer (again!) I am back to the point where I need to make that a primary factor in my business choices.

Back To Freelance

jelewis8 — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 20:52:42 +0000

Those who don’t know, I recently quit my job and went back to freelance work. I have a gig straight out of the gate, and I’m finding my interest in life and writing and other endeavors has generally started to return. Before I was an empty husk, a worthless chunk of man working for the Man, devoid of much meaning beyond earning my paycheck and generally trying to convince myself that it was responsible to keep my job despite being miserable.
Now I have decided, regardless of what my financial outcome, that hard work for someone else is almost always useful at some point in everyone’s life. It teaches you responsibility and timeliness, and encourages one to apply oneself to a standard. Freelance work, on the other hand, tends to be more free flowing and abstract, the schedule looser, the routines less routine, the work a variable existence.
But after a number of years working for someone else and then working for myself, and then going back to work for someone else, I realized my soul is infinitely better off when I work for myself and my own goals. I still work as hard, if not harder. But because of the newer, more abstract structure, my life is so much more bountiful, complete, and less worrisome.
I eat better, too.
So here’s to freelance and working for myself. I’ll try to blog more, now that I have the time and the inclination again.

Reuters UK Loves Fringe

jelewis8 — Wed, 26 Sep 2007 01:02:38 +0000

I was pleasantly surprised to see Reuters UK picked up my review of The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford through the BlogCritics.org feed. I know, it’s not a big deal. But it spreads a warm glow of happiness throughout my circulatory system to realize I’m getting a backlink from Reuters UK. Not bad for a petty little writer from backwoods Virginia.

My New Roth IRA and Going Green

jelewis8 — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 17:24:37 +0000

I finally took the plunge and invested $1,000 into a Roth IRA. This is something I’ve been contemplating for the last five years or so, ever since I realized that investing was not something I should wait on, and then went ahead and waited on it. So this is a good first step for me. It’s money I am okay with losing if it disappears under a slowing market. Hopefully I’ve diversified enough, with global financial services to hybrid mutuals, to be safe over the long haul. I know enough about it to stay abreast of them, though not enough to invest in those things personally. Which is why I’ve got a money market manager doing all the legwork for me, with nothing to do but make sure I stay swimmingly afloat this ocean of opportunity.
I would eventually like to get into personal investing, though that’s probably three months down the road. It’s quite a bit riskier, takes more time to pursue, and I need to become more familiar with the market overall before I take that plunge.
However, I’m thinking about going green when I do. Environmentally friendly companies are becoming more the norm, and with Google’s announcement that they’re investing up to $10 million in “green” companies (and with Yahoo! sure to follow), it strikes me as something that could produce quite a bit of green on its own. And passive income is something I’m all about now.

Blogging Sufferage

jelewis8 — Thu, 06 Sep 2007 14:53:55 +0000

Blogging ain’t what it used to be. Or more accurately, I’m not what I used to be. Blogging has become, unfortunately, a leisure I no longer have time to afford, though that will hopefully be changing over the next month or so. Due to the time constraints, I’ve had virtually no time to do any writing at all, and the end result has been that Fringe has suffered.
I trust all twenty of my regular visitors will understand.
For now, I’ll be recycling some old posts, some doozies and quality entries from my heyday of prolific blogging about writing, writing about blogging, and everything mundane and trivial in between. Hopefully, as things lighten up for me, I’ll begin to add more original stuff again. I beg your indulgence in the interim.
Oh yes, a quick note about the film listed on the sidebar, 13 Months of Sunshine is screening in Washington DC as part of the Ethiopian Millennium Celebration on September 9. I’ll be attending, along with my fellow producers. With the documentary footage we’re shooting, we hope to raise some eyebrows and interest from distributors. I’ll try and keep everyone updated on the film as it progresses to its final state and forward.