Rish Outcast 299: In Security Volume 1

Rish presents three vignettes from his time working security at the public library. Hopefully, the first of many.

Part 1 - New job, bad smell, toddler on stairs
Part 2 - Roger and the attic
Part 3 - People saying Thank You, cleaning vomit and Joe, lady in wheelchair lady adventure

If you'd like to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

Come support me on Patreon HERE.

Logo by Gino "The Answer Man" Moretto.

Rish Outcast 291: Job Description

Rish talks about trying to get a job as a security guard.

Yes, that Rish.

If you'd like to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

If you would like to support me on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Knob Description" Moretto.

Rish Outcast 138: Anybody Wanna Buy Some Coffins?

Okay, finally.

Here is the episode where I cart out my salespitch for the oft-delayed "Ten Thousand Coffins" novella/audiobook. I talk about its inspiration, the frustrations in getting it out there, and dance around the central conceit of the story.  Hey, could you just buy it so we can move on?

You can't always get what you want, after all.

Oh, I heard 10,000 Maniacs' cover of Because The Night yesterday on the radio (yes, I still listen to the radio.  I am THAT old), and was reminded of where their name came from* and wondered if that's where my title came from.  I recall toying with calling it "A Thousand Coffins" and then upping it to various numbers, depending on how the title sounded.  I think I picked 10,000 because it sounded the best spoken aloud (better than 50,000 or 20,000, anyway), but it could have sounded good because there was a band years ago called Ten Thousand Maniacs.

Here's a link to the TEXT VERSION.

And here's one for the AUDIO VERSION. This one has the WhisperSync option available, and I'm curious, have any of you ever read/listened to one of those WhisperSync books? How does it work, exactly?

Thanks to Austin "Danger!" Douglas and Gino "Bridge Out!" Moretto for the cover art!

To download the episode, just Right-Click HERE.

To support me on Patreon, just Left-Click HERE.

*There was a gory B-movie (I think by Herschel Gordon Lewis) called 2,000 MANIACS, and the band misremembered the title as 10,000 MANIACS.  When they learned of their mistake, they had already gotten used to the band name.

March Buntness - Day 29

Well, I got a pitiful amount of writing done yesterday, and it looks like today will be worse.  I COULD still go to the library, but if I was going to go . . . I'd have gone already.  That means I won't finish either project before the month is over.

But it would be amusing to me if I kept up my daily writing once March was over.  I know myself too well, of course, but it would be pretty neat if I was still doing these dumb posts a week from now.

I've got more stuff to edit--a podcast with Big, a podcast with Marshal, and a podcast with Big and Marshal, and then two videos that are shot and ready to go (one is 88% finished, but my computer started being a bastard again, and I just turned the damn thing off a couple days ago, hoping it would come back on when I turned it on again.  Amazingly, it did.*

Maybe I will go to the library. 

***

Well, I did run over, for the last time of the month, using my mom as an excuse.  She has surgery on Monday, and will be in bed for a while after, and mentioned that she'd like to see if Robin Cook has written anything lately, so I drove over and grabbed a big stack of his books (basically anything written in the 21st Century), and then sat down at the usual computer and typed away for a few minutes.

Because Gino has been there since I wrote this (he was the first person I shared "Like A Good Neighbor" with, I believe), I thought I'd name a character after him.  But I've already done that . .. several times.  So, I thought I'd name a character after his kid.  But I didn't know if he'd be cool with that or not (people are strangely protective of their children, in a way that I can't quite seem to understand), so I asked him, and he didn't care.

We'll see if that stands when he reads the book.

If he reads the book, I mean.  Don't wanna get too ahead of myself.

Words Today: 809
Words Total: 22,105

*Amazing to me, anyway.  And you may be wondering, "Well, did you at least save the fucking video you had been editing for days before?"  To which I say, hey, watch your language, and no, I didn't save it.  I couldn't save it.  The fucking computer was fucking frozen, so I couldn't save or exit anything.  My options were to turn it off and hope it restarted, or to throw it across the room.  And the latter option I like to keep open for my craptop.  Someday, Jennifer, someday.

Downton Blabby

I’ve been watching “Downton Abbey” the last few weeks, and I’m frankly amazed at how much I’m enjoying it.  Not because there’s any problem with the quality—quite the contrary—but because, if someone described the show to me two years ago, I’d probably have rolled my eyes and shuddered at the thought of such torture.  Of course, the me from two months ago wouldn’t have believed I’d be enjoying watching “Rev” with Jeff, about the day-to-day struggles of an English vicar in the 21^st century.*

Oh, I digress.  What I was going to comment on, and try hard not to relate it to the current tug-o-war about gay marriage, is at how the lifestyles and attitudes of the characters on “Downton Abbey” are so very alien to my modern eyes.  Having grown up in America, the very concept of nobility and class is as foreign to me as hookahs and forehead dots.  It’s been an American tenant for a century, “that all men are created equal,” but it’s fascinating to see a glimpse of what I assume to be realistic English life and attitudes from a hundred years ago.

To think of yourself as lower than another because of your job or poverty is understandable, I guess, but to think of other people as simply better than you because of their parentage or title or social circle or opportunities is harder for me to grasp.  The hateful-yet-lovable character of the Dowager Countess is a staunch advocate for tradition, to the point of dismissing the possibility of women getting the right to vote as radical nonsense.  It never occurred to me that there would be any women who didn’t want suffrage, or could think equality was a bad idea, and that’s been something that I’ve tried to get my head around.  “That’s just the way it is,” isn’t an American attitude, or rather, maybe it’s just not a white male American attitude.

Wait a moment, maybe I can understand it, to a certain extent.  You see, I have a unique-ish perspective in that I have made my living as a television and film extra, and observed the way extras are treated (and indeed, considered) by most productions.  In the last production I worked on, it was lunchtime, and the cast and crew were all broken at the same time, and bussed back to base camp to eat.  The extras, of course, had to wait until all the others had been loaded up and shipped to base before they could climb aboard the shuttles, but if there was an empty seat, they might get to go with the last group of crewmembers.  Once at base camp, the extras were lined up outside the tent, waiting for actors, grips, filmmakers, producers, costume and makeup, even stand-ins, to eat their lunch, before they could join in and have their lunch.  We stood there, in suits and jackets, as the sun beat down, knowing that we were to wait because the rest of the crew was simply better than us.

It was the lead actress’s birthday that day, so cake was brought out, and the whole crew sang “Happy Birthday” to her.  We were not allowed to participate, and one of the guys in our group said, “They could let us in there to join in the singing, but then we’d only be able to pantomime.”  If you’ve been an extra before, that might make you laugh.

It was Cinco de Mayo, so there was a pretty wondrous Mexican feast prepared.  Once the crew was done (and there was no cake left), the A.D. told us we could line up, and that there was a taco line and a burrito line, and we could choose.  I, and three others, got in the taco line, only to find that there were two tortillas left.  The first extra in the line took both.  We slinked back to the burrito line, and I was prepared to be upset when I wasn’t allowed back in line, but the extras around me let me back in my place.  There was little complaining, and except for the actually-pretty-hilarious earlier jibe, no one questioned whether it was fair or right.

Extras are paid little, and sometimes—not always, no, there were several productions were people were kind and appreciative, and Sam Raimi even thanked us and shook hands with the extras—treated like little more than animated furniture.**  To some, it’s infuriating, and they didn’t last long as “background actors,” which is the lovely P.C. term for extra.  To others, it was simply the way it was.  My attitude was that it was a fairly easy way to make a paycheck, and I got to be around film sets, which is where I wanted to be anyway.  My attitude was, nobody is forcing me to do this, and there are worse things to be in this city.

One more digression: Shortly before I moved to Los Angeles, there was an extras union, that looked out for the interests of those doing that job, tried to make sure people got paid for anything they did above and beyond the typical applauding and crossing, and probably wouldn’t be amused that the tacos were all gone.  But that particular organization got swallowed up by the Screen Actors Guild sometime before the turn of the new century, and things changed, though for the better or worse I don’t personally know.  But since moving away from Hollywood, I’ve seen what non-SAG sets are like, and that is, for the most part, a bit more of a “that’s just the way it is” way of making a living.  To see children working out in the elements at eleven o’clock at night, or have babies on the set for twelve hours, does, in retrospect, make me miss the regulated ways of California.

Anyway, I didn’t mean to go on this long.  I just wanted to express that, as much as I love watching “Downtown Abbey” (there is something elegant and thoughtful about it, but also very human and relatable),  I struggle to understand the way no eye contact could be made with "a better," one must always use a title rather than a familiar name, and respect didn’t need to be earned when it could simply be born into.

And yes, there was that one time when I was around Paris Hilton, when people said, “Nobody approach her, do not speak to her unless spoken to,” that should inform me that that sort of thing has managed to hang on, even in a land far, far away.

Rish Outfield, Cowager Downtess 

*I don’t know why I so thoroughly love “Downton Abbey” but so thoroughly despise the works of Jane Austen.  It’s possible it’s simply sexism, or maybe Austen’s writings were about a slightly different era and/or locale, or it could be that DA is intended for a modern audience, and “Pride & Prejudice” was intended for the audience of its time.   Dunno.

**Oh, and there were opposite examples to my SPIDER-MAN experiences.  One TV show, in particular, was so notorious for mistreating their extras, that on my very first day in orientation, we were told, if anyone didn’t want to work on that show, they’d make a note of it and we’d never have to worry about getting booked on it (and perhaps called cockroaches by the lead actress).

"Dead End Street" Available on Audible.

So, my first audiobook reading is available over at Audible.com. I figured I'd say a few words about it (and each subsequent release) on this blog, and maybe on the Dunesteef, and maybe over at the 'steef forums. I haven't decided, though, whether I should be pretty terse and restrained on the Dunesteef, and go into a lot more detail on here.  I even considered engaging in a sort of "confessional" Q&A on the forums, spilling all my frustrations with each project, and what I thought of the piece and my work on it.

But I'm torn.  Y'see, these posts should really should be a kind of advertisement, encouraging (strongly?) fans of the Dunesteef (and my work) to go over to Audible and buy the recordings as they appear. Except for the book I finished yesterday, I get paid only if people go there and buy them, so it does me no good to say, "Hey, stay away from my production of 'Only Angles Have Vaginas' by Veronica C. Tobler, as it's a terribly-written story, I half-assed my way through it, and she spells 'Angel' as "Angle.' Also, I have it on pretty good authority that some large mammals do indeed have vaginas."

In the four years of doing the Dunesteef, Big and I have disagreed about this point, and I understand his position: if you've worked long hours on something, and it's your own name out there, it's counterproductive to say it's not good. I think my pal Jeff would say to call a spade a spade, but my friend Merrill says it's bad pool to criticize the work you're paid to do, like when Shia Unspellablelastname said that INDIANA JONES 4 was shit. 

But I have found it interesting--at least to me--to, if not criticize, at least critically examine, the stories we've recorded, at least for other podcasts. There was that one in the second person, that made me sit up and think about what exactly you're saying when you use it (see what I did there?), and I frankly wanted to talk about it.  Also, there was one story that was so morally objectionable, that I wanted to do an episode about where you draw the line, and if you can put your name on something deplorable, but not get any of the ichor on you.*

We record stories for other shows for free, using our own time, but yeah, I can see the editor of Podrapist saying, "Oh, they didn't like the story I deigned to give them, did they? Well, see if I ever let those bastards perform on House of Rape ever again."

There may be no correct answer, but I have found that I've learned things working on movie sets with bad directors, just as I learned what works with good directors like Sam Raimi, and as a writer, I think my talents benefit from reading books and stories that don't work, just as long as I recognize WHY they don't work.

There needs to be a middle ground between only trying to shill the books and outright bashing them, and I hope that someone out there appreciates that.  As an audiobook reader, I still give the best performance I can, even if I don't love the work I'm doing, and I think it's fair to say that a good actor can elevate a bad movie, or at least the scenes he's in.  That's just my opinion, though.

So, first out of the gate is "Dead End Street," written by Rick R. Reed. The man seems to have built quite a career for himself writing LGBT Erotica and Mysteries, but this is a straightforward YA horror book that reminds me, most of all, of a certain lad named Outfield, who digs writing about teens going to ordinary places and encountering creepiness.**

"Dead End Street" tells the story of five childhood friends, three boys and two girls, who as teenagers decided to meet weekly in the local reputably-haunted house, telling a scary story apiece. But their visits do not occur unnoticed.

What drew me to the story, as a reader and especially as a narrator, is that each kid tells their own story, and I could do it in that character's voice. That was probably my biggest challenge in this piece: deciding on a voice for each, and then keeping them straight.  For Pete, I chose a younger version of my own voice, for Dan, I chose a scratchy arrogant drawl, for Roy, the text says his voice has not yet broken, so he got a sort of irritatingly-high child voice. The two girls were harder, since I wanted them to sound different from one another. I did my typical female love interest voice for Erin, who's described as really attractive, and tried a snarkier girl voice for Marlene, who is the smart one, and pretty much ends up the main character of the story, so I hope she doesn't annoy anyone.

I ran my choices by Rick before starting, unsure how much back and forth there was supposed to be between the writer and the reader, but it seems the results vary depending on the writer. There have been a couple who are really hands-on and want every little thing their way, and there are a couple who have never said a word to me throughout the whole process.

The recording was fairly uneventful, and though the sound quality is not quite as clean as the stuff I'd do today was, it was a far cry from the first short stories that I edited without headphones (where you can hear every single breath and lip thaspk.***

It's not a long book (the reading ended up just over four hours), but I got to do at least eight different voices, and it's a good representative of what I do. Check it out, if you feel like it.  Yeah, I make money if people buy the book, but it'll get really old if I come on here every couple of weeks to try to get people to buy the pieces. 

The thing is, I enjoy talking about writing and recording as much as I enjoy writing and recording, and if the stats are true, there's only five people other than me who have ever even read this blog, and one of those was a piece of shit lawyer looking for a way to get me fired from yet another job.  The blog is for me, to talk about my experiences (hopefully in an entertaining way), and works as a journal that just happens to be publicly-available.

Having said that, I hope you enjoy it too.

Rish Outfield, Book Guy

*That conversation was never recorded, but strangely, the story itself never saw the light of day either, as the podcast I recorded it for seems to have gone the way of the that beautiful green frog from Las Vegas.  My guess is (and this is Not a joke) that the editor heard my recording of it, and felt exactly as I did when narrating (and editing) it.

**I wrote a story "New Year's Day" a while ago, that has a similar premise (of high schoolers going into the local haunted house), but I don't think it's similar at all.  With Horror, you can get a lot of mileage out of as simple a premise as "Girl is possessed," "House has ghosts," and "horny teens run afoul of psychotic albino."  

**No, thaspk is not a word, but is there a word for the smacking/slurping sound that a mouth makes when it opens? Of course, if that mouth is Emily Van Camp's I imagine the word is different than when, say, the Rancor's or my mouth makes it.

7 June 2007

I started a new job today. It's not far from my last job and the commute is only five minutes or so longer. I've got my own little desk with my own little view of trees and a street and nearby hills. The large windows along my wall let in a lot of light and if I stand up, I can see the holding pins at the rendering plant next door. of course, I can always close the blinds if I need to.

I can't say whether I'll be good at it or not, but it looks semi-promising. There's something kind of thrilling about a new job, in that you never know how it's gonna work out or what you will enjoy or grow to dread, who you'll befriend or despise, how long it will all last, and in what novel and surprising way you'll get fired.

When I was an extra, working on television, movies, and commercials, there was that newness and wonder practically every day. Plus, you got the extra thrill of being around filmmakers and often seeing the world's hottest chicks. Ay, I miss it.

Of course, working a real, five-days-a-week job, I could buy and sell Extra Rish (circa 2000, or 2005/06). But if he could see me now, he'd probably make an attempt on my life. Or just kill himself, which would be more sure. And easier.