timothy c goodwin.nyc-based actor, photographer, writer, and cohost of The Tiffin Inn Writing Workshop.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
post 14. hate to say i told you so.
from allmusic.com:
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
post 13. a curious episode.
driving down the road late at night i picked something up out of the corner of my eye. i decided to pull off to the side of the road, and there i stood in the low, gloomy light of the stars in a moonless night. there was something back there. something in that wide open field. i could see it moving. no – i could see them moving low to the ground, all hovering and moving as if they were army guys on a training mission. they were crawling towards a group of hills that were to my left. then i heard a shout, low, muffled, in another language. suddenly i realized i was standing there, gawking at the scene; i got down to the ground. they probably saw my car, whatever they were, saw me turn off to the side of the road, so i got down and started crawling in the other direction, looking for some place to watch…well, whatever was going on. i sat behind some smallish rocks twenty meters away and saw, sure enough, a few of the humps begin changing direction and moving towards my car, and what i saw made me catch my breath and hold my mouth – the figures stood up straight and they were each ten feet tall, with long, long spindly legs heading up towards small torsos, with arms that were no thicker than pencils snaking out from their sides. they examined my car and found nothing inside. they turned about and inspected the ground for evidence of me. one of them pointed to something on the ground. they all looked at the area indicated, then, sure enough, started moving towards me. don’t move. stay close to the ground, a voice said, and next to me was a woman with a large pistol. it took all my nerve not to scream in fright. she cupped her hand over my mouth and pushed me quite forcibly to the ground. there were more shouts, closer, not from the things by my car but from behind us. the other figures continued moving towards the hills, when suddenly there were fireworks – loud pops and gunfire that came red from the hills aimed at the figures, who instantly stood on those unnervingly narrow legs and began unleashing some sort of agents from their bodies, like missiles, but more organic and without that, you know, fire that comes out of the back of missiles. two of the three creatures by my car turned and fired toward the hills, but the third one contuined its investigative pursuit for me, following my tracks. in the firefight the woman held me down and again repeated instructions for me not to move. then the figure grew closer, about five meters away and before i could try and watch what was happening she let fly a few rounds of ammunition into the figure, which dissipated instantly. we better get out of here, she said. you shot it, right? no – i only made it mad, she answered, and grabbed my arm to hoist me up.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Thursday, April 21, 2005
post 10. lost in the woods.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
post 9. death to traitors.
from allmusic.com:
post 8. my trouble with cars.
crashing off the side of the road i found myself in a car that was drowning. i tried to get out but everything was stuck: the doors, the windows, the trunk. typical for the kind of cars i drive. i once bought a used car and found myself wondering where the steering wheel was for a week. it sat in my driveway and i would walk out each morning and find everything else on the car – catalytic converter, doors, cigarette lighter (as if i needed one of those) but no steering wheel. one time i bought a car that had no “park.” i couldn’t park it on a hill or any incline at all, for that matter, because it had no “park.” and another time still i had a car that had a fuel leak and kept giving me headaches. it was a nightmare. i thought about all those old cars as i sat in this one, sinking in lake poncho, a car that seemed like it was driven through glue. i couldn’t get out, and the water was seeping in through the cracks. thinking quickly, i used the emergency brake to stop myself from sinking. all right, it wasn’t the brightest choice, but i was suddenly under a lot of stress. i turned on the radio and realized that would be my savior. i broke the face of the radio and pulled out the wires. hell, it was one of those spock-things or scotty-things that they’d whip out whenever the enterprise was in trouble. so if it worked on television, then in must work for me, right? i switched the wires so i could transmit rather than receive. hello, hello, mayday mayday I called…but nothing. water seeped in through the cracks. mayday, mayday, i said, and suddenly someone on the other end picked up – an old woman said hello? yes, hello, i’m stuck in a drowning car, i shouted, as my legs got cold from my pants that were getting wetter and wetter. yes, this is mildred, how can i help you? look, lady, where are you, i asked. she replied by telling me she was in the den ready to eat some cucumber sandwiches. i told her i was in lake poncho and she said that was where she and her husband first met. i told her i needed help and time was of the essence and she told me she’d be right over. well, my chest was the new water level when i saw this beat-up old truck spit itself down the road and pretty soon, the old lady, bent and withered, stepped out as if she’d fall at any moment. her dog leaped out of the bed of the truck and tore down to the water front and started barking at me. the old lady waved and i couldn’t help but wave back in a sort of socially responsible thing to do. it was a stupid thing to do, her smiling and me trying to just be sociable. i had no idea if she understood the gravity of the situation. she went all the way back to the truck – a painful thing to watch, given the amount of time it took her to do so – and she grabbed some rope from the bed. she then had junior (the dog) swim out to me and i’ll be damned if that dog didn’t tie a perfect windsor knot around my back bumper, sticking like the end of the titanic out of the water. then the dog swam back to shore and the old lady was tying the other end to the bumper. the dog got there just in time to put his paw on it so she could finish her big bow knot. i wasn’t very secure in my faith that this would work. she got back into the truck – slowly, so very very slowly – and started the old thing up. this is where I met my husband, she said, as I stood outside my car on the shore, dripping wet and shivering. here. i brought some cucumber sandwiches. junior leaped from the back of the truck with a picnic basket in his mouth. she pulled out a big thermos. you must be cold; here’s some hot chocolate for you. the three of us sat and ate for the afternoon. the sun came out and it became quite pleasant. i like your truck, i said. i’m getting too old to drive it, she said, would you like it?
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Monday, April 18, 2005
post 6. tiny ninja theater.
the tiny ninja stage at geva theatre center. kick-ass. dov weinstein comes to the roc every now and then and performs plays with inch-high ninja figures. his macbeth -- joanna and i saw it friday -- was at the same time eerie and hilarious. the show only allows for thirty people at a time to see it, and each person gets a pair of binoculars to see it with. amazing.
post 5. giving the swatch its prop-ahs.
i've always been a fan of swatches, and here's a testament to their greatness: kevin kelly's cool tools website pays homage to my favorite pop culture icon.
"I recently conducted a survey asking readers what technologies they have relinquished. Much to my surprise, watches topped the list (replaced in most cases by the clock in a cell phone). Personally, my watch is my most used mobile equipment. Always on (I wear it in the shower, swimming, and while I sleep), featherweight, quick to read. Every couple of years I check out what's available for watches as tools and I come back to the model I have worn 24/7 for 20 years: a classic Swatch Original. It's what a watch should be: waterproof, nearly indestructible, accurate, and radically legible. Clear, black-on-white glow-in-the-dark numbers (no hour ticks) in an analog face. Day/date optional. And best of all, at $40 the Swatch is probably the cheapest rugged watch you can buy. Luxury watches perplex me: what are you getting extra? Sure, the plastic wristbands of the Swatch wear out and are cheaply replaced every five years, but you'll lose a Swatch before it crashes. There are other models for making a fashion statement; for a straightforward design worthy of Apple, look for the Original (or Classic) Gents or Ladies. It is still the best bargain going for a personal timekeeping tool."
post 4. the resurrection of felix, part i.
kelly mcgittigan bought me this plant as a house-warming gift back when daigle and i moved into club obi-wan down on arts street in new orleans. that was, like, '95 i think. i moved back to rochester in '98, and felix stayed behind. he was brought north a year later by an ex-girlfriend who stuck him in the wheel well of her brother's pickup truck. for the past two years it's been cared for by my old roommate on park avenue. now that i'm on my own, i guess it's time to take some resposibility. my first move was to give felix more light. so here he is in the hallway of my third-floor apartment. we'll see if the cats that live in the building leave him alone...
post 3. me and pork.
blasting my way through the doors to the space ship, i found fourteen beautiful women wearing space bikinis. they asked if they could be taken out on some adventure, so i hopped in the seat and felt like buck