Jared AxelrodWriter of Adventure

ate-night Twitter stakling rarely leads to anything good. You do it because it’s late and you have nothing to do, and want to see what other people are doing. But more often than not, if people are on Twitter it’s because they don’t have anything to do, either. If they are doing something, it’s either something jealousy-inspiring, or they’ll talk about how awesome it was the next morning. No, Twitter-stalking rarely leads to anything good.

So imagine my surprise when my friends Skott of The Nerd Signal and Dan of Geekadelphia and the Suicide Girls Blog within minutes of each other tweeted about their intention to go to Brave New World’s midnight release party for SCOTT PILGRIM’S FINEST HOUR, the sixth and final volume of Brian Lee O’Malley’s epic comic series (soon to be a major motion picture)! As a hardcore SP fan, I had to go.

“Hey,” I said, walking into the office where JR was being productive. “Wanna go to a SCOTT PILGRIM release party?”

“Sure! Right now?” she said.

I looked at the clock. “Actually…yeah. It starts now. But it goes ’till midnight.”

We wasted no time raiding Volumes 1-5 looking for appropriate costumes to attend the event. Our hopes of being Evil Exs were dashed, but we figured we could pull together kickin’ versions of Scott and Ramona’s Halloween costumes. And so we did:

We didn’t take any pictures ourselves, and this was the best pic I could find, yanked from Brave New World’s Facebook Gallery. As a bonus, Skott’s in the shot. Hello, Skott!

We had a good time at the event, despite arriving too late for the pizza. We did, however, win free passes to a preview showing of the SCOTT PILGRIM movie, which I take as clear proof that the universe loved our outfits. When we bought out book, the cashier said he was glad we won the tickets, “because you guys came all dressed up.” So let that be a lesson to us all.

Also, I clearly need to spend more time on Twitter. The evidence of it’s benefits are abundant.

My 30th birthday party was a blast, with great food and even better friends.  As you can see, I was the reigning Time Lord, but there were many other fantastic costumes. Unfortunatly, the heat meant that our inspired by British weather outfits were slowly shed as the night wore on–several people said we should do this again, only in the winter–but the evening was enjoyable nonetheless.

The menu was Doctor Who appropriate, with 11 dishes for 11 Doctors:

First Doctor (William Hartnell) - Turkey Meatballs, as he was frequently described as “an old turkey”
Second Doctor (Patrick Troughton) - “Cosmic” pork and beans, made with soda pop, for the “cosmic hobo” (thanks, Brendan!)
Third Doctor (Jon Pertwee) - Grapefruit and wine syrup, as he was fond of wine)
Fourth Doctor (Tom Baker) - Pepper jelly “baby” crustini, inspired by his favorite candy
Fifth Doctor (Peter Davison) - Boneless buffalo wings, to go with his ever-present celery
Sixth Doctor (Colin Baker) - Tofu hoagies, as he became vegetarian after he was almost eaten
Seventh Doctor (Sylvester McCoy) - Apple Salad, since he frequently asked apples for advice or clues
Eighth Doctor (Paul McGann) - Blood orange salad, because his half-human blood was very important
Ninth Doctor (Christopher Eccleston) - Banana kebobs, since “bannanas are good!,” as this Doctor would say
Tenth Doctor (David Tennant) - French fried chips. All the Doctors enjoyed chips, but this one had chips that made you smarter
Eleventh Doctor (Matt Smith) - Bowtie Caesar salad, since he’s been mistaken for Ceasar already. Also, bowties are cool.

It was, as is the nature of my parties, too much. Our refrigerator is choked with leftover food. Which does mean we’ve been eating very well these past few days…

t is nothing less than my 30th birthday tomorrow, and I’m not sure what to make of it. It is the beginning of many things–it is after all, the start of my fourth decade, as George Hrab so astutely put it–and, concurrently, it’s hard not to look at it as the end of others. It is in the current cultural vogue to look at one’s 20s as the “screw-up time,” when you try everything, make several mistakes, and lay the groundwork for who everyone will think of when they remember you. It’s a decade of broken bones and success in things you never expected to work, of failed relationships and the greatest friends you will ever have.

It’s the crucible of who you are, so you can be who you will become.

Here’s how I spent my third decade on this earth, in kind of, sort of, not really in chronological order

• Wrote and performed a solo show.
• Wrote a full-length play that was performed with a full cast
• Created, managed, and performed (juggling, human pincushion, escape art, electrocution) in a freak show
• Fell in love
• Graduated college
• Wrote an illustrated a comic strip in a nationally published magazine
• Moved out of my parent’s house, to Philadelphia
• Performed with the Lulu Tech Circus
• Performed with Laurie Wolf
• Ran a series of murder mystery dinners
• Founded, with four other authors, 365tomorrows.com
• Wrote over 100 stories
• Created 3 podcasts that explored what you can do with podcast fiction,
• Designed book covers for Matthew Wayne Selznick and P.C. Haring
• Got a job with my own office
• Lived through the death of my father
• Illustrated half of Mur Lafferty’s Playing for Keeps
• Designed logos for Rich Sigfrit, Thomas Gideon, Mur Lafferty & Christiana Ellis
• Sold 8 stories
• Made 20 puppets, one of which was displayed in a museum
• Married JR Blackwell
• Modeled underwater
• Made 30 costumes
• Invited as a guest to several conventions, including Dragon*Con
• Filmed a short documentary
• Read 3 stories for Escape Pod
• Wrote a comic book column
• Wrote a novel
• Wrote a novella
• Got a literary agent
• Learned ballet
• Was on the cover model of a magazine
• Left the country
• Created props and costumes and puppets for 5 theatre productions
• Cooked 3 avante-guard X-Mas dinners
• Created a roleplaying adventure supplement for Nathan Paoletta’s Annalise
• Wrote for I Should Be Writing
• Created ALL WRITE! With Natalie Metzger
• Broke my ankle while trying to fly
• Became the face of steampunk on Wikipedia, thanks to Kyle Cassidy
• Fought in an Iron Chef-style competion
• Lectured about the history of the sideshow
• Taught writing workshops
• Hugged a dolphin
• Signed a graphic novel contract with Tor
• Met a series of incredibly talented people who I consider my dearest friends

My thirties have a lot to live up to.

Sometimes, mythical creatures burst into being. The borders between fiction and reality are thin, and sometimes—like, say 2am on Saturday—they appear to you. Just such a thing happened to JR and I tonight, on our way home from Shadowland (which, frankly, is a little too fitting). Standing by the side of the road, looking lost and forlorn, stood two creatures out of myth and legend.

I speak of course, of the Magical Pixie Dream Girl. One is rare indeed. But two? That, my friends, is nothing short of a miracle.

These two beautiful young ladies in their tiny black dresses and ballet flats flagged down our car, asking us if we could drive them to 3rd and Chesnut. One of them, the brunette, had left her credit card there. Seeing no harm in driving two tiny twenty-somethings a few blocks, JR and I agreed, and they climbed in.

“We’ll give you money,” the blonde said. I assured her that would not be necessary. Both of the girls were clearly smashed out of their skulls, though the blonde more so than the brunette. She was the louder of the two.

“What’s your favorite bands?” she asked. “Top three. C’mon!”

We admitted that we did not actually know our favorite bands—it’s one of those questions that really should have come up before but hadn’t, and we tried to steer the subject away. But neither girl was having it.

“How long have you been dating, if you don’t your favorite bands?” the burnette asked. We told them we were married, which was met with squeals and clapped hands. “Tell us your bands. We’re music snobs.”

It then came out that my current favorite bands are, in fact, The New Pornographers, The Veils, and P.O.S.—the last two the brunette had not heard of, and it blew her mind—and JR’s were Ani DiFranco, Regina Spector, and she was cut off before she could get out a third.

“Those are so awesome,” the brunette said. “Are you a feminist?” JR said that yes, she was. This brought more squeals of joy from the two girls.

“VAGINAS!!!” yelled the blonde, her head out the window. “VVVVVVAAAAAAAGGGINAS!!!!”

The conversation then turned to how awesome I am—“So awesome”—and how hot JR is—“So hot”—which then led to the inevitable question. Would it be okay if they made out JR?

“You’re so hot,” said the blonde to JR, to which the brunette agreed. “Let’s make out. Would that be cool?”

“Lay off,” said the brunette. “They said they were married.”

“She can do it if she wants to. Look at her. She’s so hot. She’s got his balls in her hand.” JR protested that she does not like to make out with people she doesn’t know. “It’s because you think I’m ugly, isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” JR said. “You could be a model. If you told me you used to be a model, but you quit to go to school, I would have believed you.” I agreed with this.

“So I not pretty enough for you,” the blonde said, pouting and following her own train of logic. “I just want to make out with someone,”

“I’ll make out with you,” said the brunette.

“Shut up, Allie.” This was the first mention of either of their names. Katelyn and Allie. We pressed for more information. Allie liked Led Zepplin, but recently was turned on to folk music (“My friends from college would kill me if they knew I was into folk music”). Katelyn was a die-hard follower of Bob Dylan.

“My mom toured with Bob Dylan,” Katelyn said. “And my father toured with Eric Clapton. That’s how they met. And then, they fucked,” this was punctuated with a clap, and then a collapse back into the seat. “And that’s how I got here. I am so smashed. I just want to get something to eat, make out, and get fucked. Can we go back to the hotel?”

Making out and getting fucked was floated up several times—with the suggestion all four of us would be involved—and it was the combination of that and the notion of a hotel that became clear that these were no ordinary girls. These were Magical Pixie Dream Girls, the mythical creatures bi-curious couples seek out, hoping to add a third sexual partner for a night of debauchery, only to disappear back where they came from (in Katelyn and Allie’s case, that would be the Bronx), never to be seen from again.

These unicorns, these centaurs, these nymphs of legend were in the back seat of our car, pleading with us to talk about bands and make out with them and take them back to their hotel.

Naturally, we dropped them off at their originally specified destination (though not without circling it three times), and sent them on their way.

“My vagina’s hanging out,” Katelyn said as she got out of the car, adjusting her skirt. “Do you guys want money?”

No, Magical Pixie Dream Girls. The story is payment enough.

Local theater group Plays & Players have started a series called Super Heroes Who Are Super, staged readings of comics with costumes, props, and the appropriate combination of respect and silliness. Their first performance was the infamous “Boner Crimes” Batman story, which gives you an idea of the kind of comics they seek out for this series. I’ve seen two–they also did the first appearance of the Punisher, which proved that played straight, Frank Castle is far more funny than Spider-Man, quips and all–and loved them both. After talking with the organizer, I agreed to help out with the superhero suits for the rest of the series.

This month is the comic of choice is GREEN LANTERN #13 (June 1962): “The Duel of the Super Heroes!” the first meeting of Flash and Green Lantern, and after seeing my GL jacket, they asked if I could make a Flash one to match. So, I did.

There’s lots of charges from secret identity to superhero for both characters, so the director wanted something easily removable. I also made a Flash cowl and giant head extension (to mimic the cover). Dress rehearsal was Tuesday, so JR got some fabulous pics of the actors in costume.

Feel the power of the head extension:

I feel I should point out that is not the set they are going to use, but it makes a wonderfully surreal backdrop. More pics here.

It was so great to see the actors in the costumes. Doug Thomas, the actor playing Green Lantern, guy put his on an immediately struck a hero pose The director asked him how he felt in the costume. He said “I feel awesome!” He’s apparently been a Green Lantern fan since childhood. And Brian R. Caine, the actor playing Flash, was running all around the stage. The costumes really brought a physicality to their performance that they apparently didn’t have in the other rehearsals. Oh, the power of costuming.

Performance is this Saturday, the 14th at 10:30 on the 3rd Floor of Plays & Players Theater. Hope to see you there!

JR and I spend our days being insufferably pleased with our lot. Things are going well for us, and despite some bumps and shattered bones, it has been a fantastic year for our marriage. And what better way to celebrate it than by throwing in with those who, because of the law and the land, cannot enjoy what has made us so happy in the past 12 months?

As the saying goes, there but for the grace of the universe go we. Had I not found the perfect partner in J.R., it is entirely possible that I would be lamenting my inability to marry my boyfriend. Actually, it is far more likely that I would be lamenting not having a boyfriend, legal wedding march or not. But the sentiment would be there.

So when this March for Equality happened to fall on my wedding anniversary, it seemed appropriate to go and, well, march. And march we did.

The whole trip seemed fairly magical. None of the bumps and bruises that normally accompany travel were apparent. We got there safely, got a wonderful room at the hotel, then went down to the hotel bar to toast our good fortune of nothing bad happening.

And who should be at the bar, but three of the organizers at the march. I don’t remember their names, only that one looked alot like Mark Sheppard, and another resembled a more hard-core Mur Lafferty (imagine what Mur would look like after a lifetime of cage-fighting). The Mur-looklike was revealed to be a sargent in the LA police force, and was worried that not enough people would show up for the March. “We may only get 20,000,” she said.

There was a few more than 20,000.

The march was immense. I am told there were 200,000 to 250,000 participants, and I don’t doubt it. The crowd snaked through Washington waving flags and shouting slogals. “Obama! Obama! Let mama marry mama!” Signs declared that it was “Time to put a ring on it!” and that “My sister has more rights than I do.” Families marched together. Children rode on the shoulders of their parents. Old lovers held hands and kissed. The march was about legitimizing the love we feel, and in that, the march was full of love. I found myself thinking, “Why would anyone think this love was wrong?”

Why, indeed.

I wish I could express the absolute joy I felt as part of this march. I wish I could bottle it and send it to you. The feeling of community, of being part of a cause fighting a clear injustice, was electric and exciting.  Worth waiting hours in the sun to start, and worth marching the 2 miles or so to get to the Capital. There were speakers–Cynthia Nixon, Judy Sheppard, Lt. Dan Choi and we passed Alan Cumming, hanging out with his boyfriend–but that was icing. The march, the love that surrounded it, that was an event in of itself. That was all I needed.

I had my picture taken several times during the march, due to my fantastic sartorial sense. It’s always nice to be told you are dressed well at a queer event. The fellow who took the picture below said that I was so handsome that he would marry me.

“But I can’t,” he added. “It’s illegal.”

Hopefully, not for too much longer.

Thank you for making every day such a joy.

Well, you should. For these fellows are Bradley K. Wren, David Johnson and Justin Jain and along with Timothy Sawicki, they have created The Annihilation Point. Which you should go see. It’s a fantastically funny play about time travelers from the future trying prevent the destruction of the human race. Really, you will not find a more hilarious play about the apocalypse at the Fringe Festival this year (yes, that means you, Atomic Catwalk!).

I say this, not as someone who designed and built most of the props in the show (even though I did). I say this as someone who cares about you. Someone who wants the best for you. Someone who will bold as many words as it takes to get you to see this play!

I’ll be there tonight. Get your tickets while you can; they’ve already sold out Saturday.

Put the kids to bed–forever!

It was a Russell Davies blog post that alerted me to these mugs, which contain one of the best concepts spoken by a president, but with a helpful fill in the blank portion in place of the “go to the moon,” bit. JFK’s full quote is, of course:

“We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.”

The whole speech is here, but that’s the humdinger. “…not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills…”  That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?  Anybody can do the easy stuff. But it’s the hard stuff that defines us.

My wife and I have started embarking on couple of difficult things ourselves. One, is a new, tight budget that forces us to spend a lot less under the dream of spending more at one big go. Less comics every Wednesday, in order for a Hawaiian vacation (or a European one. Or a Japanese one)  It evens out, but it’s been difficult to stay within the narrow confines we’ve prescribed ourselves.  Difficult, but not impossible

But you know, we choose to do them not because they are easy…

Along those lines, we’ve decided to become serious about losing weight and getting into shape. We’ll both be thirty next year, and the goal is to enter our thirties in better shape than we entered our twenties—an easier goal than it sounds, considering how heavy I was at 19. I’ve been working out every morning, getting at least 50 push-ups in–if not some concentration curls and some lateral raise with the 20lbs barbell–before I stumble downstairs for breakfast. I’m going to purchase a bicycle (in case anyone was wondering where that costume commission money was going to) and JR’s gonna get her old one fixed up. We’ve streamlined our diet—not eating out as much for financial reasons has really helped with that—and all this eating right and exercising has apparently transformed us into one of those couples.

For example, just the other day, I said, in all seriousness, “It’ll be great to bike down to Whole Foods and pick up some protein powder.”

Clearly, we have past some point of no return.

Which brings up the question, if you do the hard often enough, does it become second nature? Perhaps, that’s the goal itself. Do we do it not because it is easy, not because it is hard, but because it’s effortless.

And damn, if effortlessness isn’t the hardest thing in this life to pull off.