Got To Move To The Trick Of The Beat

I have read almost 200 pages of The Girl Who Played With Fire this week, so the contest is well underway (scroll down for details). Lots of good book ideas have been submitted via email and by posting below. As the contest ends when I am finished reading this book, and the book is about 500 pages, I figure you have another week or so to enter. I am trying not to read the prize while eating or sitting on the toilet for the contest's sake.

For those who can't believe I passed on going to GenCon, the world's premiere D&D event, to talk about social media at a conference will find photographic proof here and here as well as further evidence here. As a dude who got an electric typewriter to go to college in 1984, forsaking his manual one, I still have a lot to learn, but it was nice to be asked to talk and be amongst the young hipsters who will one day snatch my job from me and leave me broken on the side of the information superhighway.

Plenty going on; until later I am at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

The Long and Winding Road

Think b-movie screenwriting is easy, grasshopper? Several years ago I wrote a script I called "Hellshocked" about a group of WWII GIs forced to spend the night in a haunted church behind enemy lines. This was shot and put forth for distribution as "Black Mass." It was sold to the overseas market and did well in Japan as "The Da Vinci Curse" with footage from another already-completed film spliced in. That version came back to the U.S. as "Dead Knight" but didn't get much traction. Now that film has been cut with about 15% newly-shot footage (with another writer) featuring werewolves. Yet through it all my cameo getting machine-gunned straight up in the face has survived.

A Night with the Bums

A photo from my third stop on my quest to visit six ball parks this summer, breaking my old record of five, set a few years ago in a bout of Nerd Extreme Sports. Here I am at the Traverse City Beach Bums; a ballpark that looks like an outlet mall on the outside, but the baseball is plenty enjoyable inside. Last week I visited the Richmond RiverRats as my fourth stop at historic McBride Stadium. Strangely, the former Richmond team moved to Traverse City. Even stranger, at one park they yell "Go Bums!" and the other "Go Rats!"

Awake in the Heartland

I was sitting in the barber's chair reading TIME Magazine yesterday when I read this column from one of my film reviewer heroes, Richard Corliss, and for the first time felt compelled to write a Letter to the Editor.

Mr. Corliss,

I am a longtime fan of your work but take issue with your portrayal of Netflix in your recent article.

It is too easy to draw a parallel between the rise of Netflix and the fall of the local video store such as the one you mentioned in Manhattan. However that theory is contingent on the fact that you ever had that option to begin with.

I live in a town with the unlikely name of Farmland, Indiana, in which the closest video store is a Redbox at a McDonald's in a town ten minutes away and the closest Blockbuster is in the nearest city thirty minutes the other direction. There is also where you can find the closest movie theater (that you can't drive your car right up to the screen). I am fortunate to live on a road where the cable service runs past, connecting two towns, but many of my neighbors rely on spotty dish reception or digital rabbit ears.

Netflix is a godsend to me, a person who graduated with a film major in college (reading Film Comment voraciously at the college library), works peripherally in movies and film festivals, and yet lives in several square miles of cornfield. I am also a voracious reader and probably get a second strike for loving Amazon and my new Kindle. The proximity of a hip bookstore to my home does not bear discussion.

Those of us who live in the vast Flyover Country between our two coasts have learned to live without the instant gratification our metropolitan brethren yearn for but do still smart at those who take our cultural lifelines to task.

Me And The Girl Who Played With Fire

Not, as one might suspect, the title of my wife's autobiography but instead the new Stieg Larsson book, which astoundingly Knopf has entrusted me to give away on my blog; one of only 250 bloggers to snag one, so look sharp. Whether I might have been #249 is only speculative. Contest rules below.

Tattoo You

Every once in a while a plugola scandal wafts through the blogosphere--a blogola scandal, if you will--where somebody is blogging merrily along about how great a movie or gadget is and lo and behold it comes out that somebody might have given that something to said blogger for free, contingent of course on them blogging merrily about it.

I can promise that everything you read on here is my own two cents given freely, though loyal readers might suspect that there aren't a lot of people willing to give me freebies to blog about grassroots microcinema, obscure b-movies, old paperbacks, underground comics and zines, and the like. As Blogalicious once pointed out, I am prone to writing about "very weird and unpopular b-movies and comics"--many of which, as it happens, are my own.

That being said, I have been offered a DVD or two from time to time, though some Amazon and Netflix reviewers who have longed for my death--or at least a long incarceration in a b-movie Gitmo of some kind--might speculate that I would more likely be offered blogola to not mention their movie at all. Nonetheless I am glad to have stayed clear. The next time you see a horror or sci-fi movie getting talked about all of a sudden on all of your favorite genre blogs, you might stop and think about why. I'm just saying.

All this is a preface to the fact that Knopf emailed to ask me if I wanted to be one of only 250 bloggers to give away a free copy of The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson.

This is cool for a number of reasons. Loyal readers know I read and loved Stieg Larsson's first book, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and have pimped it mercilessly to the general reading public that I come across on the interwebs and in real life. I have nothing to gain professionally by sucking up to Stieg Larsson as Stieg Larsson is, unfortunately, dead and his books are being published posthumously.

I also liked that Knopf trusted me to give this book away and not ferret it under my pillow. Even though my name is going to be entered for a chance to win the third book for my very self to keep I have never done well in Vegas and am not holding out hope.

Even better, I get to come up with my own contest.

My first thought was that I would ask people to send in a picture of them holding a copy of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and then I would put their names in a hat and draw one at random. That wouldn't mean that they had read it, but I think they should know it exists before trying to mooch the second one off me (Knopf, actually). And I believe if they read a teensy bit they would probably get hooked like I did.

But my wife nixed that idea, saying she thought I would get a lot of weird or inappropriate photos. She was right; I had simply forgotten how many hot young things flock to my blog regularly to read about old D&D games I have played and what comics I like and what I thought about the new Star Trek movie.

So she suggested a wiser alternative. Send me a list of five good mystery/noir/thriller books. Don't send me your top five because I probably have already read them. In fact I read five pretty good books last week on vacation and can on average read four or five a month. If you happen to include a couple of Scandinavian thrillers in there I will write your name down twice as I am trying to find some more of those for myself. If you don't know what I'm talking about, here is a current list of good ones I have already read:

1. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson (natch).

2. The Redbreast by Jo Nesbo

3. Jar City by Arnaldur Indridason

4. The Princess of Burundi by Kjell Erickson

5. Missing by Karen Alvtegen

Yes, I know there is no Henning Mankel or Karin Fossum on this list, I haven't read their works yet and that's why I want a recommendation.

So. A list of five books. Make it worth reading or I throw your crap in the trash. Your name can go in the hat twice if you include Scandinavian authors. I will pull the name out at the end of the contest, which will be when my ass finishes reading the book for myself. Knopf didn't say I couldn't read it! So your book is slightly used by me. It's free, what do you want?

Send contest entries to johnoakdalton@hotmail.com. Good luck!

Bright Lights, Small City

Live from the Traverse City Film Festival. We stood for an hour in a standby line outside this cool theater and just slipped in for a midnight showing of the crazy Norwegian zombie flick "Dead Snow." A soon-to-be cult classic. Had the added benefit of seeing Michael Moore and Jeff Garlin hanging around outside.

She Rides A Crimson Shell

Last year, I visited the BlogIndiana Social Media Conference in Indianapolis and had my mind opened to the Next Big Thing. A long-time believer in microcinema and grassroots DV, I saw a new model coming that I would need to know about to keep my day job afloat (as well as my humble, fragile screenwriting career loyal readers come here to learn about) and wanted to sniff out more about it. Astoundingly, this year I will be speaking at BlogIndiana. Is my entry into these hallowed digital halls signalling the death knell of Web 2.0? Only time will tell.

I am getting dangerously hooked not only on my Kindle (just snagged some inexpensive Allan Guthrie noir) but www.paperbackswap.com, a magical place where you can get rid of modern trashy paperbacks you don't want any more and trade them for golden guilty pleasures like Samuel R. Delany and Day Keene. This site is a vast improvement over www.bookcrossing.com, in my opinion, which I often referred to as "Book Throwing Away Club."

The good news for me is that usually a big spate of reading forecasts the brain food for a long bout of writing, so stay tuned. Until later I am at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

The Teeth of a Hydra

My wife bought me a Kindle for Father's Day/birthday/maybe a piece of our anniversary and I would like to think it was out of undiluted love but it was more likely because I just own too many books. My recent obsession with replacing all of the Gold Medal paperbacks of my youth (and then some I hadn't heard of because ebay- and in fact the interwebs--had yet to be invented) has only magnified this issue. A dire threat was issued that we would need a new bookshelf to hold all of the books but I thought that was a helpful suggestion and went out and bought and built yet another bookshelf.

Thus a Kindle, which holds quite a few books itself and is smaller than the new bookshelf.

There are many of my reading brethren who are philosophically opposed to the Kindle because they like the look and feel of paper. These are, basically, the same people who pretend they don't read tabloids or watch reality television, and I once numbered myself among them.

But it is hard to pass up the convenience and ease and relative inexpense of downloads with the Kindle, and I found that I could actually read off of it pretty easily (as a person who does not like to read anything longer than a blog post on a computer screen). I soon had a new dark mistress.

The first book I downloaded was "Pygmy" by Chuck Palahniuk followed in quick succession by two Hard Case Crime novels, "House Dick" by E. Howard Hunt and "The Murderer Vine" by Shepard Rifkin. $20 of Father's Day money gone. I was happy to find Hard Case Crime on Kindle but was disappointed two books I was looking for--"The Savage Detectives" by Roberto Bolano and Denis Johnson's "Nobody Move"--were not yet available.

The Kindle people are diabolically clever by offering up all kinds of free downloads, mostly of classics but plenty of other stuff to get you hooked, like "Assassin's Apprentice" by Robin Hobb and "His Majesty's Dragon" by Naomi Novik, both of which I had already read and admired and both the beginning of addictive series. Joseph Finder's "Paranoia" is up there free, as is "Elric: The Stealer of Souls" by Michael Moorcock. I downloaded a couple of freebies that I probably wouldn't buy but might try for nothing, which I am sure was the plan, like "Manifold Time" by Stephen Baxter and "Blood Engines" by T.A. Pratt and "Weapons of Choice" by John Birmingham. Then, while nosing around, I broke down and spent a few thin dollars on "To Kiss or Kill" by Day Keene and "Leaves of Grass" by some dude.

Suffice to say I am ready for my beach vacation in a few weeks. Give me a shout at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

The Imaginary Blonde

Longtime readers know about my fascination with the detritus of a misspent youth; 70s comics, Gold Medal paperbacks, late-night creature features, musical one-hit wonders, and the like. Those who, like me, peruse the dustbins of history for forgotten lore know that it is not so much the acquisition as the hunt.

For instance, recently I went to a party at a friend's and came across a box of comics his mother had chucked out of the attic and told him to get rid of. He hadn't gotten around to throwing it away yet and I peeked in out of curiosity and found a whole slew of 60s-era Marvel Comics with single- and double-digit numbering and titles like Uncanny X-Men and Daredevil and The Amazing Spider-Man. Yes, the little voice in my head told me to casually offer him $20 to take the box off his hands but I couldn't do it.

Even more recently I was visiting a little antique store my wife had dragged me into and I happened across a stack of old magazines. The old man running the shop told me a 99-year-old man had recently passed away and the proprietor had been given the opportunity to sort through his junk and see if anything was worth saving.

My eyes landed on Manhunt Detective Story Monthly #1, January 1953, with stories by Mickey Spillane, William Irish, Kenneth Millar, Richard S. Prather, and Evan Hunter, among others. If you do not recognize these names, please leave this blog immediately and go to Google, then come back when you are educated, grasshopper. Right behind this one was issues 2, 4, and 9, featuring Richard Deming and David Goodis and Ross Macdonald (as I said, Google).

All for a thin dollar each. The proprietor must have seen my bad pokerface because he hesitated to sell them at the eleventh hour, but without making a quick trip to ebay couldn't figure out how not to sell these to me.

Later I checked out ebay myself, and suffice to say could make back my $4 rather easily. But these are made for reading myself, looking at the covers and thinking about that quickening of the pulse when I saw them on the dusty shelf.

I'll be out nosing around, but can be found at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

The Down Side of Up

Cinema Minima, a film site I have a lot of respect for in the independent/grassroots film world, recently remarked on a slow news day "Not 'Hollywood Independent'--writer John Oak Dalton is the real thing." Let this humbling statement not proceed the death knell of American Cinema.

Despite this great affirmation, like the stoic (which unkind reviewers might refer to as wooden) star of "Drag Me To Hell," I have started to wonder if I am under some sort of gypsy curse.

Both of my cars died within four weeks of each other, leaving my wife and I stranded in different cities. I cut through the ball of my thumb again while slicing a bagel. The garden hose on the outside wall leaked into the house and I came home and found the plumbers had to cut a big hole in our kitchen wall. We hiked around, as is our tradition, on Father's Day and saw a big timber rattlesnake sunning itself on the trail. Though we did not see it was a timber rattlesnake until we looked on the interwebs, which we did because when my wife (who believed it was a grass snake) poked it gently with a stick and said "Go away, honey," it rattled at her.

I do have to admit I watched "The Seventh Seal" again the other night and maybe that's where it all started. You watch a dude play chess with Death and you sort of have to take what comes. But with its eye-popping black-and-white cinematography, clear-eyed scripting, and a hard-assed performance by Max von Sydow, it is worth it. The down side is that you remember that most everything made today is disgraceful crap in comparison.

Even though I love this movie, I still love "The Bicycle Thief" more and wish I could make a movie like "Alphaville." If you have not seen these three greats, shut off the internet, set aside your Will Ferrell movie marathon, and get to work. Then come back when you get it done.

Until later I am at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

Taking a Hike

For three years running we have gone hiking on Father's Day. This year, Roush Lake State Recreation Area and Salamonie Reservoir, both near Huntington, Indiana. Wife, puppy, and new Kindle in tow.

Revenge of the Great Cornholio

Field-testing, for the first time, the Colts cornhole boards I made for my father-in-law in the sub-zero weeks before Christmas. The event was the shared birthday party my in-laws held for my kids, now aged 21 and 25. Time marches on.

Good Morning, Campers

Summer Straycationing at O'Bannon Woods State Park in southern Indiana this past weekend.

Albino Raccoon Captured

If you don't think I could have gotten any cooler after this photo was taken, on Monday I was fitted for a mouth guard to wear at night so I don't grind my teeth.

One Less Artery to Worry About

I asked my wife to take a picture so I would always remember this steak, a good two to three inches thick and as red as Mao's little book. Great camping memories.

Be Careful Not To Touch The Wall, There's A Brand New Coat of Paint

The hipster pinnacle for a midnight movie-loving kid like myself growing up was Fangoria Magazine, and I'll never forget when I first saw my name in its pages. And it never gets old.  You can check out the trailer here.

Careful readers see that I got some "Memoir 44" in over Memorial Day and actually won against my brother, a rare victory but tainted somewhat by the fact that I knocked the Allies off the beach on D-Day.  Somewhere, a parallel universe is in peril.  But I also got in "A Touch of Evil," also a very good but very different horror-themed board game.  Old fans of this blog, check it out.

Oh, and check this out too.

And check out this guy, who, like me, apparently enjoys a Gold Medal paperback from time to time (and I am trawling away on ebay trying to replenish my stock, an old fave company that you used to be able to throw away by the handful and now has disappeared off of used book shelves in favor of big thick Tom Clancys and John Grishams).  (Best not follow that link at the office).

Feeling linky today; more later at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

More Memorial Day

My brother and I playing the entirely excellent and fun World War II board game "Memoir 44" on, appropriately enough, Memorial Day.

Storming the Beach

Game's eye view of a D-Day scenario, which I would normally be glad to win but as I was playing the Nazis on Memorial Day I hoped a parallel universe didn't fall somewhere.

Memorial Day Festivities

Grilling out for my mom's birthday.

Memorial Day #2

Nothing says a Hoosier holiday weekend like some cornhole.

The Center Ring

Bonnie the Circus Dog, on Memorial Day.

It Was Just Like A Great Dark Wind

Ever since I was a kid I thought it would be cool to have my own personal Code of Honor that nobody else understands.

I think it began when I read Raymond Chandler's "The Simple Art of Murder" and these immortal words: Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid.

This code has taken many forms over the years and continues to evolve, with the latest addition having come since my daughter went to college. Now every time I hear the song "Sara Smile" by Hall and Oates I have made an unbreakable vow to call my daughter; even if it is at 7:15 a.m. while I am driving to work. This song has been one of her favorites from when she was a little girl and it always reminds me of her.

But I haven't heard it enough, even though I listen to a lot of oldies stations, so I have expanded this vow to include every other Hall and Oates song except for "Maneater" which I would rather listen to radio static instead. But that didn't quite cut it so I have expanded to include the song "Baby Come Back" which is actually by Player but sounds like Hall and Oates. Then "Sara" by Fleetwood Mac and "Sara" by Starship. Then every other song by Fleetwood Mac and Starship except for "We Built This City" which I would rather drive a pencil into my ear than listen to.

The detective must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor. He talks as the man of his age talks, that is, with rude wit, a lively sense of the grotesque, a disgust for sham, and a contempt for pettiness.

Until the next song, I am at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

I Was Feeling Kinda Seasick

Sadly my pal, filmmaker Peter O'Keefe, just earned another lap in the Lake of Fire.

In other entertainment news, I am watching "Parks and Recreation" closely. Not because I hope that they realize they can improve the show dramatically by allowing Rashida Jones to wear a pantsuit like her mother, Peggy Lipton, was so famous for in "The Mod Squad." It is more to be on alert for unfavorable portrayals of Hoosiers.

Loyal readers may recall my campaign against "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip," who made fun of my alma mater's basketball team with an ill-disguised jab at "Muncie State," thus inspiring my ire and ridicule. Few things have drawn as much attention to this blog from other sites (except for when I wrote about how my wife saw Maura Tierney and Goran Visnjic in Chicago taping "ER," drawing links from many Croatian "ER" fans), and my jibes at the shaky plotting and leaps in logic were surprisingly repeated on some TV fan sites.

All I can say in retrospect is that I am still blogging and "Studio 60" is off the air. Whether Aaron Sorkin is still weeping bitter tears at night over my witty and incisive posts, I have never learned.

So far "Parks and Recreation" is doing okay. They have accurately portrayed Hoosiers' love for Bobby Knight and Larry Bird, though they have overlooked other Gods in our Pantheon, among them Reggie Miller, Steve Alford, Bobby Plump, and the newly-elevated Peyton Manning.

But one thing.

We do NOT wear brown suits! At least, I haven't seen any since I visited my dad's Kiwanis meetings in the early 80s. Our great Flyover Country does get regular delivery of Old Navy clothes!

I will continue vigilantly monitoring potential defamation of Hoosiers; until then, I am at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

You Are The Magnet

Getting into the groove on my new job and spent a pleasant weekend with my wife for her birthday.  We went to Vera Maes, one of our favorite spots, and afterwards a showing at Ball State University of "The Full Monty," which was a very good student performance.  It was closing night, and though there were rumors of the full monty to be on display "for one night only" I only saw a couple of bare(ish) buttocks.  Not that I'm complaining.

I did have an excellent Savannah pork chop at Vera Mae's.  I have known a lot of fine pork chops in my time and I would say this was in the top five.

I have a feeling I am going to have a baseball summer.  I have been reading the very good book "Moneyball" by Michael Lewis about how the Oakland As have built winners with no money and it got me interested in baseball a bit more this year.  About five or six years ago the stars were in alignment and in one summer I ended up at the Cincy Reds, St. Louis Cardinals, Fort Wayne Wizards, and Indianapolis Indians.  I ended up winning some Indy Indians tickets on a TV Auction last fall and cashed them in a few weekends ago on a very pleasant night at Victory Field after a really good meal at Weber Grill.  It was the kind of meal that men fantasize of where there are four kinds of meat served and not one green leaf in sight.

On my summer wish list is Indy Indians (one down), the new Fort Wayne Tincaps, the new Richmond Riverrats, the Dayton Dragons, the Reds (I haven't been since their new stadium), and maybe for good measure the Cubs or Sox.  And, if I can reach the far ends of the state, the South Bend Silverhawks and the Evansville Otters.  If I can make any combination of at least five I will beat my previous record.  Something a boy can dream on.

Getting very interested in keitai shosetsu.  Google this if you don't know what I'm talking about.

Until later, at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.