Christmas is Coming! December 11, 2007

Who doesn’t love the old Rankin and Bass Christmas cartoons? Okay, maybe Charlie Manson or someone like that hates them, but most people of my generation have a warm and fuzzy spot for these silly little holiday specials. In fact, Rankin and Bass had such a profound effect on me as a kid that the first stories I started writing in college were Christmas stories! Albeit mine were weird for the sake of being weird (“The Christmas Spam”, story of a magic batch of spam that could be formed into real toys being the ultimate example of my weirdness). But one of my best stories to date was inspired by the Rankin and Bass brand of story-telling. One that I am confident enough to have sent out to agents and publishers. Sure, I’ve gotten negligible responses so far, but that’s all a part process right? Anyway, it’s time to bundle up my two year in his jammies with feets and wrap him in a warm blankie so that we can watch “Jack Frost” and “Rudolph’s Christmas in July”–no wonder I wrote such weird Christmas stories huh?

—David F.

Thanksgiving November 21, 2007

Holidays inevitably bring up old family stuffing. It’s odd, but for what ever reason the holiday feasts of my early days seem almost magical in comparison to the recent fare of the last decade or so. Why is it that we idealize childhood holidays?: the yams are never as sweet as when I was a kid, the gravy just tasted better, the turkey was never dry.

Well, now I have been in charge of the holiday feast for a number of years now, and my quest has ever been to seek the perfect recipes. Perfecting the yams, the stuffing, the turkey and gravy. I guess I’ll never get pass the “magical” feeling of those childhood Thanksgivings, but I can do my best to make my son’s holidays as magical as possible.

—David F.

The Peanuts Gang! November 19, 2007

It’s definitely holiday time again, and nothing reminds me more of my childhood holiday experiences than the Peanuts gang. They were a big part of my growing up years, and a big influence on my work as a writer and artist.

In the new biography about Charles Schultz, the creator of Peanuts, we are reintroduced to the genius of his world. Schultz was a naturally melancholy individual with the singular drive to be a comic strip artist. “Peanuts” will forever reign as the pinnacle of its medium, and every comic strip artist after owes his/her allegiance and inspiration to Charles Schultz–and many willingly show their respect to him.

What is it that makes this strip such a remarkable work of art? Initially, it is the contrasting simplicity and complexity of the drawings. In a way no one else can, Schultz was able to rendered deep emotions with a few simple strokes: the confusion in Charlie Browns bracketed eyeballs, the dismay in Linus’ squiggle line mouth, the rejection in Charlie Brown’s downcast head, the melancholy in Charlie Brown’s black cloud, the frenzy and paranoia in Charlie Brown’s multi-bracketed eyes, the rage in Lucy’s slant-eyed stare, the security in Linus’ thumb in mouth below two dashes (to indicated closed eyes), the insecurity in Linus’ down-turned mouth and bulging eyes, the joie de livre in Snoopy super-time dance for joy, the agony of defeat in Charlie Brown’s closed eyes and straight mouth.

Beyond the drawings themselves is the pervasive exploration of the meaning of life and all that that entails. Schultz was an intensely philosophic and introspective individual who had the gift of making us laugh despite the horrible struggles he often portrayed on his comics page: Charlie Brown endless missing that football, Charlie Brown never having the nerve to talk to the Little Redheaded Girl, Peppermint Patty and her endless stream of D minuses, Linus and his never getting to meet the Great Pumpkin, etc etc. Despite these and more insurmountable obstacles, the Peanuts characters keep going on, and this is what makes them remarkably human. We all experience struggles and setbacks, yet we continue to work on moving forward. Schultz was at times an optimist like Linus or Peppermint Patty, but was basically a pessimist like Charlie Brown. Each character, although fully realized, is an extension of who Charles Schultz was. Schultz himself often said that if you wanted to know who he was, it was all in his comic strip.

Truly words can not do these pictures justice, and if you are not one of the 100s of millions of people who have read and loved these comics, I urge you to give them a peek.

—David F.

This is Halloween! This is Halloween! October 31, 2007

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays, and it has had a profound impact on my artistic life. Dressing in costumes as a child would be a precursor to dressing in costume on stage and standing in front of hundreds of people to sing, dance and perform.

As a child, I looked forward to Halloween every year with great anticipation. In the early years, it was all about the candy. Costumes were only a secondary concern. Of course I cared about what I dressed up as, Woody Woodpecker one year, Spider-man the next, Boba Fett two years in a row, but it really was about the candy.

At the age of twelve, when Halloween was unceremoniously torn away from my brother Sean and I, we made our own defiant stand. Our mother would not buy us costumes, so we would make our own instead! Sean dressed up in a tank top, swim trunks and sun glasses to be a surfer dude. He even lugged around one of our boogey boards, such was his dedication. And I dressed up in winter coat, boots and snow hat, calling myself one of the MacKenzie brothers from the Great White North. On we went to have a joyful time of candy collecting. It would be the last year we would trick or treat together, and one of the few pleasant memories from that time.

It was that year that I learned the true meaning of Halloween. No, it’s definitely not all about candy. It’s about self-expression, and being something or someone that excites you. It’s about having an excuse to be silly or scary or sexy, or whatever you want to be–the things you are not necessarily allowed to be in your everyday life.

Since that time, I have made some pretty amazing costumes. Among them, a giant pumpkin-headed scarecrow and Death himself complete with hand-stitched tattered robe and realistic home-made scythe. If anything, being a theatre major teaches you to be a very resourceful artist.

—David F.

A Fable for the Men of Our Time October 28, 2007

There once was a man who valued knowledge above all else.  Ultimately he foresook even family, friends in his search to know more than anyone.  He became more and more bitter as he never quite learned that having all knowledge is a impossible feat.  When friends sought him out, he pushed them aside in favor of his deluded quest.  When family called to him, in his jaded state of mind he chose to belittle them and cast them out of his life forever.  He traveled far and wide, slowly disappearing from the minds of those who had once loved him.  His store of knowledge grew and grew.  Eventually, his head became so large that he floated high into the sky, carrying only his books and papers with him.  He reveled in his new found ability to fly, especially the fact that he was the only man who had ever done so.  Soon he came upon other planets, collecting ever more stores of knowledge.  Of course, he never connected with anyone on these planets.  He merely asked for books and papers, then continued to float on his way.  As he aged, certain things began to vanish from his memory.  His family, his friends, his place of origin, his age, his name.  Even the reason he was seeking knowledge in the first place.  Eventually, even his vast collection of knowledge began to disappear.  His head slowly deflated, and his body withered into an empty shell.  No one ever knew him; he left behind no children, no legacy.  And he died alone, drifting somewhere very far from home.  Though you can never see him, men often hear him praying on their thoughts and insecurities.  He is the one that tells you that you must not feel, that you must be strong, that you must never cry.  He is the one that tells you to be a man!–and only men truly know what that means.  He is the reason we have war, and poverty.  The reason so many children starve, so many nations crumble and fall.  He is the true inspiration behind inhumanity, and he does this all in the name of logic and necessity.  His calling cards are rational thought and survival of the fittest.  All because he valued knowledge above all else.  So fathers hold your children close, sons love your fathers well–lest you become the dry husk of a man wafting mindless through space.

—David F.

EMERGENCY!! A Note from the Fire Frontline October 23, 2007

Let’s face it, no matter where you live fire is a scary thing. But about every four years or so here in sunny Southern California we get these massive Armageddon-like super fires. Drought induced dry brush combines with fierce, strong winds to create fire mania. I have seen it happen many times here since my youth, but the fact that this is just nature being nature is rarely any consolation. Once again the sky is an eerie ashy orange, the air smells of constant burning, and there is an odd and lingering feeling of impending doom. Of course part of this is just human nature. Afterall, it is the fall–a time of burning away the old to make way for the new, and for whatever reason we are wholly resistant to change. In a sense, the irony of Malibu (the land of movie stars and moguls) up in flames has a certain satisfaction to it. But let’s face it, no matter where you live fire is no fun. I just want to go back to my ordinary life and not hear endless laments of the horrors this fire is reeking on everyone. I want to stop worrying about the proverbial roll of the dice and where that fire is going to hit next. Is an ember going to land on my house? If I have to evacuate during work, how do I get my son from day care? At this point, these possibilities are remote. While the fires surround us, they do not seem to be heading into our neck of the woods. But what about next time? And next time? Oh the joys of living! Uncertainty and calamity, mixed with worry and anxiety. The joys of modern life…

—David F.