DERRICK made a movie. Here's the trailer:
Please forward it, Digg it, blog it, Tumbl it, and do everything you can in front of your computer in the next sixty seconds to show it to your friends and colleagues. That is, of course, if it looks like something you might like.
I think you'll like it. We worked very hard on it and we think people are gonna like it a lot.
A couple of people commented positively on the design of the graphic for Derrick's weekly stand-up show in New York. I blushed, because I made it. It's a picture from the set of "Mystery Team," with the rest of the elements ripped off hard from Blue Note album covers. Every wannabe graphic-design nerd knows that Blue Note covers are the coolest thing in the world.
This is also a good opportunity for me to plug this show. I really ought to keep, like, a listing of shows on the side over there. I don't, but I will someday when my life stops being a fun, well-intentioned mess, and starts being a fun, well-intentioned ENGINE OF EFFICIENCY. Until then:
THIS IS NEW YORK is Derrick's weekly stand-up show. We host some of our favorite stand-ups, each one of us does a set ourselves, and the best part is the whole thing is free. The other best part is that it's in Queens, one stop out of Manhattan, where everything is magically mellower and costs a dollar less.
The show is at 9 PM. It's a bar, and there are drinks. Sangria is four dollars on Sundays, it's unbeatable.
We've been doing it for a few weeks now and it's really, really fun.
From Manhattan: Take the 7 Train to the first stop in Queens, Vernon-Jackson. Use the Jackson Ave. exit. Walk toward the Citibank tower (can't miss it) and The Creek is on your left.
From Brooklyn: Take the G Train to the first stop in Queens, 21st St/Van Alst. Walk away from the Citibank tower and The Creek is on your right.
It's gonna be mean. Mean meaning awesome. See you there!
Also: Donald won a fuckin' Emmy. (News item on the Derrick site.)
Also also: My friend Margot got married this weekend. I was at the wedding. It was truly epic. You can see a video of Margot and her very excellent new husband Dan planning their wedding over at the New York Times.
It is impossible for me to stop listening to this song.
You have to love shoegaze. I often think I should've been a waify self-effacing Brit who only wears extra-long-sleeved shirts.
CHEERS to Bobby Moynihan, good friend, star of Derrick sketch "Bro Rape" and our movie "Mystery Team," who made his Saturday Night Live debut last night.
JEERS to David Foster Wallace killing himself in California. (LA Times Article)
"...his own father had told him that talent is a dark gift, that talent is its own expectation: it is there from the start and it is either lived up to or lost."
- "Infinite Jest"
UPDATE: My buddy John wrote this about DFW's death.
I think John's mention of Kurt Cobain's suicide is particularly apt, and I think Courtney Love's message to Kurt's mouners after his death pretty much sums up my feelings any time somebody I really respect takes themselves out. "So why didn't you just fucking stay?" (You can read the whole thing here.)
You and all the people whose work you admire and who you want to emulate, you're all points in a big network of anti-loneliness. You love them for the messages they transmit, things you've always felt but couldn't articulate, stuff you thought made you strange, and what these messages are telling you is, those things actually make you cool. And no matter what they're saying the big over-arching theme of the messages, the really important thing that isn't even in their content but in the fact of your receiving them at all, is that you are not alone.
And when they willingly extinguish themselves, there is one less point in the network, one fewer big transmitter of it's-not-all-in-vain signals. There is one fewer. And you're a little more alone.
John touched on this, but after reading "Jest" I was like, if I ever wrote anything one-tenth this ambitious and funny and layered and satisfying, I'd be so happy. Well, Wallace wrote something exactly that ambitious and funny and layered and satisfying. So by my logic, he should be ten times the amount of happy I would find more than satisfactory. And he killed himself.
So what are we, the little points in the network sustaining ourself on signals from the heavyweights, supposed to do? Despair a little, I guess, then reaffirm for the other points in the network that despair is not cool.
Like Courtney says: "Just tell him he's a fucker, OK? Just say 'fucker.' 'You're a fucker.' And that you love him."