When Greg Banks of Wheelman Press published my short novel, "Key West" in January, 2013, it was the beginning of one of the most enjoyable creative ventures of my life. I had never planned to write a novel. "Key West" was a screenplay. I was pitching it around L.A. when I fell in touch with a manager who was in partnership with Greg. "Turn it into a novel," the manager said. "We'll publish it." I hesitated for, well, maybe for three seconds. I knew it was something I wanted to do. I never actually met Greg. He was located in Georgia. Everything was arranged over email and phone.
Surprisingly, the book began selling (some) right away. I remember sending an email during the first month after Greg published it, asking, "Has anyone, besides ten of my friends, bought the book?" It had already sold about 50 copies. Later, when Greg began sending me payments in the hundreds of dollars I couldn't force the dumb smile off my face. When I visited my partner in the project, Robert Silk (It was his original magazine article that started the whole concept, and his research that has shaped the story throughout) in Florida, and saw the book on a shelf in an actual Key West book store, I felt proud/happy/humbled...and about seven other emotions all mixed together.
Coming from a seafaring family, I imagined the "Wheelman" of Wheelman Press related to a ship's wheel. It was not until a year later that I learned the truth. The "Wheelman" of Wheelman Press was a referrence to the wheelchair Greg had been using to get around since he was a child.
In the Spring of 2014 Greg sent an email stating the very sad fact that he had been in and out of the hospital, twice in recent months, with complications from pneumonia and a respiratory infection, that he could no longer work, and had to close his company. He would be sending an amended contract, he said, returning all rights to me, so I could find a new publisher or publish it myself. I looked at the words for a long time...publish it myself. Hmmm.
I emailed back asking Greg if he could get me all of his distribution contacts. I began to like the idea of publishing myself, but only if I could also get the book onto the shelves of bookstores the way he did. He forwarded a gold mine of business contacts and details, and even helped transfer his existing editions (by then "Key West" also included the three 'Companion Episodes' which Greg had published as kindle-only novellas) over to my new Azzurri Publishing accounts.
So, technically Azzurri Publishing has existed since last Summer, but those editions still have the Wheelman Press imprint.
Coming soon, though, will be several new titles and editions unique to my own new company, Azzurri Publishing. In early April, 2015 the original "Key West" novel will be published as a "Special Edition," which will include a prequel short story titled, "The King of the Keys." A month later, in early May, the three Companion Episodes (which I always intended to fit together as a single second novel) will be published under one cover for the first time.
Two months after that, in July, 2015, I will be publishing a short novel titled, "It Is What It Is." I want to think that "It Is..." will eventually be my own next film a couple years later, but it's way too early to say that, so I can't say that (did I actually say that? I can't say that).
There will be other books, not all by myself, coming after that. I plan to publish books by a few other people eventually.
Azzurri is not the first publishing company I have been a part of. Once upon a time, my friend Smitty published magazines and small books under the compnay name, Box Dog Press. The name Box Dog Press came from our completely crazy Junior Varsity Basketballl Coach in tenth grade. He once diagrammed a play - a full-court press, which he called the 'box-dog press' - with seven players on the court. The "Seven-man Box Dog Press," we called it. He never did figure out how to sneak the extra two players onto the court without the referee noticing.
So, since "Azzurri" is named after the Italian National soccer team (Gli Azzzurri), both of these publishing companies have had sports-related names. Box Dog went on to release music and videos ("Dog Tapes"). Azzurri will get back to film prduction in another year or two.
In the mean time, I just want to dedicate the official launch of the publishing company to Greg Banks and Wheelman Press. There are few things that happen in life that are 100% positive. The year-and-a-half that I spent working with and associated with Greg, will remain a period of time I will always think of fondly, and then sadly. If it weren't for Greg - the "Wheelman" - there would be no Azzurri Publishing.
-Peter Wick
February 16, 2015
Monday, February 16, 2015
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
#31 - The Cosby Concept
As a very young child at the beginning of the 1970's, I remember life being more or less one big laugh after another.
This is selective memory, of course. there was a lot of heavy non-laughter in my young life, as there is for everyone. My most vivid memories, though, seem to highlight the crazy, the wild, the humorous, and the amusing.
I was one of five kids, in a household out of control. My parents seemed at a loss. It wasn't just us three brothers. My two sisters contributed to the craziness as well. We lived in a medium-sized house on Lake Sammamish, about 20 miles from Seattle. When my sister Keren and I decided to find out what lake water felt like during freezing December temperatures, my Mom wisely stayed quiet. Keren and I changed into swim suits, opened the front door and ran down to the beach. We knew we were doing something ridiculous. That was the whole point of it. Be ridiculous.
We also knew, vaguely, that what we were doing was stupid, but we wanted to learn just HOW stupid it was first hand. We didn't want to take some grown-up's word for it. We had to go down to the freezing water and get in. So we did. It was COLD. It was FREAKIN' COLD! We ran in as far as we could before instantly screaming and running back up to the house. My mom just seemed amused. she probably thought we had learned our lesson. We had, but the lesson had two parts to it; first, yes, we learned never to run into a lake in the middle of December. (I mean, it was freakin' COLD!) Second, though, we learned that on some deeper level, it was damn good fun to flaunt our ridiculousness for all the world to see. Who else in either my school class, or my sister's, could brag that they had gone swimming in the freezing lake in the middle of December? It was a cocky brag because we both knew it was untouchable in its credibility.
Into this laughter-filled childhood world, came a performer of unusual and brilliant charm. I don't remember which album entered the house first. There were several; "Bill Cosby is a Very Funny Fellow...," "I Started Out as a Child," "Revenge," "Why is there Air?" I don't even remember the comedy bits anymore. My memory is like an impressionist painting of moments. Cosby's voice playing characters, telling stories from childhood, making me laugh with his creative, magical stories. We couldn't see the performance. We could only listen to Cosby's voice, but that was enough. It was eye-opening.
When "Fat Albert" came along it was a natural must-see for a while.
Life as a child is always in flux, though. Each year brings a whole world of new interests and new fascinations. I don't remember losing interest in "Fat Albert." I just know that it was on my radar for a while, and then it wasn't anymore.
I became a teenager and wanted edgier fare. My comedy needed some bite to it. Before "Bill Cosby,: Himself," came along in the early 80's, I had become a loyal fan of ground-breaking comics like George Carlin and Richard Pryor. I didn't expect much from "Himself." I remember watching it with my girlfriend, though, who did not have the same Cosby background that I had. To her, Cosby was just some guy. To me he was THAT guy, the guy from my childhood, the kids guy, the brilliantly funny kids guy.
"Bill Cosby: Himself" was a masterpiece. Unlikely as it seemed, my girlfriend and I were won over. We watched many episodes of "The Cosby Show" together, losing interest maybe three seasons in, as life provided - again - edgier fair.
Cosby was "Cosby." He wasn't just a performer, or a celebrity. He was a concept. Cosby epitomized 'safe' middle class classiness. Uncontroversial, rooted to daily life, and still creative and brilliant.
Life went on.
A year or two ago, I happened to catch Cosby, now in his 70's, on Jimmy Fallon (The Late Show, before Fallon took over the Tonight Show). It was a fascinating performance. Cosby for some reason ended up sitting on the floor, doing stand-up from a previously un-tried position. Then as his age began to take over, he began to improvise (it had to be improvised) about how, at this age, you should never get down on the floor...you see, because you might never be able to get back up. Fallon got down on the floor next to him and they conducted the most unusual, hilarious interview I'd seen on late night television.
I felt comforted afterwards. Maybe Cosby was not the number one influence in my life, but he was there. He was deep in my psyche, going back to childhood, and it felt comforting to know that he was still COSBY in old age.
When the avalanche of sexual allegations poured down on him, from more than a dozen women, recently, allegations of disturbing, secretive, predatory behavior, dating all the way back to the 1970's, I needed some time to process what was happening.
As a society we sometimes respond to celebrity scandals with ever-shifting double standards. Sometimes we are ready to drop a favorite celebrity instantly. Other times we forgive or we wait patiently, allowing for the presence of uncertainty to weigh on our judgment.
Michael Jackson's child abuse allegations are a case in point. I had little patience for Michael Jackson after that episode, Yet many fans held tightly to the lack of a legal conviction, and gave him continuing support, respect and love until his untimely death.
I lost faith in Bill Cosby fairly quickly, and surprisingly (surprisingly for me, anyway) easily. It was a sad moment. Cosby meant something to me. Yet, I had little trouble wrapping my head around the concept of that near-perfect middle-American ethos, hiding dark, disturbing, criminal secrets. It made sense in that it didn't seem at first to make any sense at all.
Perhaps the 'Cosby thing,' that too perfect image, was so powerful that behind the scenes, deep in his own heart, he believed he had carte-blanche in the world.
Cosby has not been proven guilty of anything....yet. In a criminal sense, he is innocent until proven guilty. One wants to be fair and give him the benefit of the doubt until something as conclusive as a court judgment either convicts or acquits him.
Even without that, though, the weight of the allegations, the number of women, the manner in which they came forward, collectively and individually, make it impossible to maintain faith in either Cosby as a person, or 'the Cosby concept' as a cultural ethos.
Chris Rock said "We lost Cosby this year," even though Cosby is still alive.
Chris Rock is right. We lost Cosby. The Cosby influence in our culture - and it was huge - is dead. Or it is dying. It is terminally ill.
It is a sad passing, because, as Cosby titled one of his early albums, I started out as a child.
-Peter Wick
January 14, 2015
This is selective memory, of course. there was a lot of heavy non-laughter in my young life, as there is for everyone. My most vivid memories, though, seem to highlight the crazy, the wild, the humorous, and the amusing.
I was one of five kids, in a household out of control. My parents seemed at a loss. It wasn't just us three brothers. My two sisters contributed to the craziness as well. We lived in a medium-sized house on Lake Sammamish, about 20 miles from Seattle. When my sister Keren and I decided to find out what lake water felt like during freezing December temperatures, my Mom wisely stayed quiet. Keren and I changed into swim suits, opened the front door and ran down to the beach. We knew we were doing something ridiculous. That was the whole point of it. Be ridiculous.
We also knew, vaguely, that what we were doing was stupid, but we wanted to learn just HOW stupid it was first hand. We didn't want to take some grown-up's word for it. We had to go down to the freezing water and get in. So we did. It was COLD. It was FREAKIN' COLD! We ran in as far as we could before instantly screaming and running back up to the house. My mom just seemed amused. she probably thought we had learned our lesson. We had, but the lesson had two parts to it; first, yes, we learned never to run into a lake in the middle of December. (I mean, it was freakin' COLD!) Second, though, we learned that on some deeper level, it was damn good fun to flaunt our ridiculousness for all the world to see. Who else in either my school class, or my sister's, could brag that they had gone swimming in the freezing lake in the middle of December? It was a cocky brag because we both knew it was untouchable in its credibility.
Into this laughter-filled childhood world, came a performer of unusual and brilliant charm. I don't remember which album entered the house first. There were several; "Bill Cosby is a Very Funny Fellow...," "I Started Out as a Child," "Revenge," "Why is there Air?" I don't even remember the comedy bits anymore. My memory is like an impressionist painting of moments. Cosby's voice playing characters, telling stories from childhood, making me laugh with his creative, magical stories. We couldn't see the performance. We could only listen to Cosby's voice, but that was enough. It was eye-opening.
When "Fat Albert" came along it was a natural must-see for a while.
Life as a child is always in flux, though. Each year brings a whole world of new interests and new fascinations. I don't remember losing interest in "Fat Albert." I just know that it was on my radar for a while, and then it wasn't anymore.
I became a teenager and wanted edgier fare. My comedy needed some bite to it. Before "Bill Cosby,: Himself," came along in the early 80's, I had become a loyal fan of ground-breaking comics like George Carlin and Richard Pryor. I didn't expect much from "Himself." I remember watching it with my girlfriend, though, who did not have the same Cosby background that I had. To her, Cosby was just some guy. To me he was THAT guy, the guy from my childhood, the kids guy, the brilliantly funny kids guy.
"Bill Cosby: Himself" was a masterpiece. Unlikely as it seemed, my girlfriend and I were won over. We watched many episodes of "The Cosby Show" together, losing interest maybe three seasons in, as life provided - again - edgier fair.
Cosby was "Cosby." He wasn't just a performer, or a celebrity. He was a concept. Cosby epitomized 'safe' middle class classiness. Uncontroversial, rooted to daily life, and still creative and brilliant.
Life went on.
A year or two ago, I happened to catch Cosby, now in his 70's, on Jimmy Fallon (The Late Show, before Fallon took over the Tonight Show). It was a fascinating performance. Cosby for some reason ended up sitting on the floor, doing stand-up from a previously un-tried position. Then as his age began to take over, he began to improvise (it had to be improvised) about how, at this age, you should never get down on the floor...you see, because you might never be able to get back up. Fallon got down on the floor next to him and they conducted the most unusual, hilarious interview I'd seen on late night television.
I felt comforted afterwards. Maybe Cosby was not the number one influence in my life, but he was there. He was deep in my psyche, going back to childhood, and it felt comforting to know that he was still COSBY in old age.
When the avalanche of sexual allegations poured down on him, from more than a dozen women, recently, allegations of disturbing, secretive, predatory behavior, dating all the way back to the 1970's, I needed some time to process what was happening.
As a society we sometimes respond to celebrity scandals with ever-shifting double standards. Sometimes we are ready to drop a favorite celebrity instantly. Other times we forgive or we wait patiently, allowing for the presence of uncertainty to weigh on our judgment.
Michael Jackson's child abuse allegations are a case in point. I had little patience for Michael Jackson after that episode, Yet many fans held tightly to the lack of a legal conviction, and gave him continuing support, respect and love until his untimely death.
I lost faith in Bill Cosby fairly quickly, and surprisingly (surprisingly for me, anyway) easily. It was a sad moment. Cosby meant something to me. Yet, I had little trouble wrapping my head around the concept of that near-perfect middle-American ethos, hiding dark, disturbing, criminal secrets. It made sense in that it didn't seem at first to make any sense at all.
Perhaps the 'Cosby thing,' that too perfect image, was so powerful that behind the scenes, deep in his own heart, he believed he had carte-blanche in the world.
Cosby has not been proven guilty of anything....yet. In a criminal sense, he is innocent until proven guilty. One wants to be fair and give him the benefit of the doubt until something as conclusive as a court judgment either convicts or acquits him.
Even without that, though, the weight of the allegations, the number of women, the manner in which they came forward, collectively and individually, make it impossible to maintain faith in either Cosby as a person, or 'the Cosby concept' as a cultural ethos.
Chris Rock said "We lost Cosby this year," even though Cosby is still alive.
Chris Rock is right. We lost Cosby. The Cosby influence in our culture - and it was huge - is dead. Or it is dying. It is terminally ill.
It is a sad passing, because, as Cosby titled one of his early albums, I started out as a child.
-Peter Wick
January 14, 2015
Saturday, November 15, 2014
#30 - Customer Service
Call #1:
Hello, My name is Tricia. Thank you for calling Time Warner Cable. I'll be doing whatever I can to make your day miserable. Can I have your full name and account number?
Um, my name name is Peter Wick, and the account number is __________.
Okay, great. I have your account up here. What can I do for you today?
I'll be moving on the 1st of the month. So I need my TV service moved to the new address at that time. I also will need your internet service added at the new address as well.
Okay, I see you have our basic cable TV service. We have a bundle that I think would be perfect for you, Cable, phone and internet for a package price of $______.
No, I don't want phone sevice. I have a cell phone. I just want my cable moved and internet added.
I understand, but this is the most inexpensive package we have.
But it costs more than just adding internet to my current service, and I don't want the phone.
Actually, just adding internet to your existing service will cost, $_______. So as you can see it is cheaper to get the bundle with the phone.
How can that be? Why is it cheaper to get three things, including one I don't want, than to just get the two things I want?
That's just how we work at Time Warner.
I don't want the phone.
Of course you don't. No one does. We force you to get it by talking around in circles like this.
Call #2:
Time Warner Cable. Tricia speaking. How can I help you?
Hi, I spoke with you yesterday. I decided to go ahead and sign up for your bundle, even though I don't actually want the phone.
I see. Actually we currently have you signed up for a different package, including having one of our representaties call you each day to yell obscenities at you, for the new priice of $__________. We have you scheduled for an installation appointment Tuesday bettween 8 am and sometime next year.
Call #3:
Hi, I was supposedly scheduled for an istallation appointment today, but haven't seen any sign of the technician. Any word on when this guy is going to show up?
Oh, actually, that appoointment was cancelled.
Cancelled?!
Yes.
By who?
By someone in our Trivial Annoyance Department. It seems the order was written up wrong, and the technician felt he needed more time than what was scheduled.
Was anyone going to bother telling me it was canceled? I dropped some work today, so I could sit around all day waiting for this guy.
No.
Hm?
No, no one was going to call you to tell you the appointment was cancelled.
Call #4
Time Warner Cable, Tricia speaking. how can I help you?
Hi, Peter Wick again.
Hi Mister Wick. Are you calling to sign up for our premium package? It includes HBO and Showtime, as well as several very expensive but murky and unspecified services that will show up on your bill as 'various fees.'
Uh, no, no I didn't call up for that reason.
Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do for you?
Well, I have in my hand a paper bill for my old address, with the old services, charging me for next month.
Mm hm, and what seems to be the problem?
Well, I mean, I cancelled service at the old address. I have different services, at a different price at a new address. So, I'm wondering why you're still expecting me to pay for services where I no longer live.
Oh, because we were hoping you wouldn't notice, and just pay without questioning.
I see. Well....I'm questioning.
Rats! There goes part of my commission.
And, one other thing...
Yes?
I went without service for 11 days at the beginning of the month. Any chance I can be credited for the days I had no service?
Hm, let's see, would you be willing to pay an additional thirty-five dollars for that service?
No, no, see, what I'm asking is if you can credit me back a little money because I received no service for eleven days.
I understand, Mr. Wick. I'm just asking you if you are willing to pay for that?
Pay for that! NO, see a credit means you give me some money back, or you deduct it from my next bill.
Exactly, Mr. wick, and we are willing to credit you Fifteen dollars back, if -
If? If what?
If you are willing to pay thirty-five dollars for the service fee.
The service fee?
To process the credit.
You know what, never mind. I'm thinking seriously about just going out to see live entertainment every night.
What are you saying, Mr. wick?
I'm thinking seriously about just cutting the cord and going without cable.
Hmm, that would be very expensive.
Expensive!? no, I would have to pay nothing. I would have no cable.
We charge a base price of two hundred dollars a month for that service.
What service?
Well, Mr. Wick, you must certainly understand that if it costs a certain amount for us to run cable entertainment and internet, not to mention the phone that you famously do not want, into your apartment, just imagine how much it costs for us to go away.
What do you mean?
Two hundred dollars a month to get us out of your life, Mr. Wick. That's our most prized service. Many people are willing to pay quite a lot for us to leave them alone. Are you willing to go down this road?
You know what, never mind. Just shut up and stop being so silly.
I would, but...
But what?
I would have to charge you for that service.
-Peter Wick
November 15, 2014
Hello, My name is Tricia. Thank you for calling Time Warner Cable. I'll be doing whatever I can to make your day miserable. Can I have your full name and account number?
Um, my name name is Peter Wick, and the account number is __________.
Okay, great. I have your account up here. What can I do for you today?
I'll be moving on the 1st of the month. So I need my TV service moved to the new address at that time. I also will need your internet service added at the new address as well.
Okay, I see you have our basic cable TV service. We have a bundle that I think would be perfect for you, Cable, phone and internet for a package price of $______.
No, I don't want phone sevice. I have a cell phone. I just want my cable moved and internet added.
I understand, but this is the most inexpensive package we have.
But it costs more than just adding internet to my current service, and I don't want the phone.
Actually, just adding internet to your existing service will cost, $_______. So as you can see it is cheaper to get the bundle with the phone.
How can that be? Why is it cheaper to get three things, including one I don't want, than to just get the two things I want?
That's just how we work at Time Warner.
I don't want the phone.
Of course you don't. No one does. We force you to get it by talking around in circles like this.
Call #2:
Time Warner Cable. Tricia speaking. How can I help you?
Hi, I spoke with you yesterday. I decided to go ahead and sign up for your bundle, even though I don't actually want the phone.
I see. Actually we currently have you signed up for a different package, including having one of our representaties call you each day to yell obscenities at you, for the new priice of $__________. We have you scheduled for an installation appointment Tuesday bettween 8 am and sometime next year.
Call #3:
Hi, I was supposedly scheduled for an istallation appointment today, but haven't seen any sign of the technician. Any word on when this guy is going to show up?
Oh, actually, that appoointment was cancelled.
Cancelled?!
Yes.
By who?
By someone in our Trivial Annoyance Department. It seems the order was written up wrong, and the technician felt he needed more time than what was scheduled.
Was anyone going to bother telling me it was canceled? I dropped some work today, so I could sit around all day waiting for this guy.
No.
Hm?
No, no one was going to call you to tell you the appointment was cancelled.
Call #4
Time Warner Cable, Tricia speaking. how can I help you?
Hi, Peter Wick again.
Hi Mister Wick. Are you calling to sign up for our premium package? It includes HBO and Showtime, as well as several very expensive but murky and unspecified services that will show up on your bill as 'various fees.'
Uh, no, no I didn't call up for that reason.
Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do for you?
Well, I have in my hand a paper bill for my old address, with the old services, charging me for next month.
Mm hm, and what seems to be the problem?
Well, I mean, I cancelled service at the old address. I have different services, at a different price at a new address. So, I'm wondering why you're still expecting me to pay for services where I no longer live.
Oh, because we were hoping you wouldn't notice, and just pay without questioning.
I see. Well....I'm questioning.
Rats! There goes part of my commission.
And, one other thing...
Yes?
I went without service for 11 days at the beginning of the month. Any chance I can be credited for the days I had no service?
Hm, let's see, would you be willing to pay an additional thirty-five dollars for that service?
No, no, see, what I'm asking is if you can credit me back a little money because I received no service for eleven days.
I understand, Mr. Wick. I'm just asking you if you are willing to pay for that?
Pay for that! NO, see a credit means you give me some money back, or you deduct it from my next bill.
Exactly, Mr. wick, and we are willing to credit you Fifteen dollars back, if -
If? If what?
If you are willing to pay thirty-five dollars for the service fee.
The service fee?
To process the credit.
You know what, never mind. I'm thinking seriously about just going out to see live entertainment every night.
What are you saying, Mr. wick?
I'm thinking seriously about just cutting the cord and going without cable.
Hmm, that would be very expensive.
Expensive!? no, I would have to pay nothing. I would have no cable.
We charge a base price of two hundred dollars a month for that service.
What service?
Well, Mr. Wick, you must certainly understand that if it costs a certain amount for us to run cable entertainment and internet, not to mention the phone that you famously do not want, into your apartment, just imagine how much it costs for us to go away.
What do you mean?
Two hundred dollars a month to get us out of your life, Mr. Wick. That's our most prized service. Many people are willing to pay quite a lot for us to leave them alone. Are you willing to go down this road?
You know what, never mind. Just shut up and stop being so silly.
I would, but...
But what?
I would have to charge you for that service.
-Peter Wick
November 15, 2014
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
#29 - Rising Waters
I don't want to think about how much it was. I certainly don't want to SAY how much it was. But I just dropped of a check covering the deposit on a new apartment I will move into on the 1st of next month.
It's in Venice, California, a block and a half from Venice beach. The end of the continent.
I've lived in Venice before. Twenty years ago I was in the neighborhood for two years. I'm not really a beach person, but I prefer the beach to the freeway.
A friend asked me, jokingly, "Do they speak Italian in Venice in California?" I said, "No, they speak Dude."
I remember heading out to the beach one December - I don't remember what year it was - when the cold wind was whipping in off the water so intensely, I could barely stand up straight. I was the only person at the beach that day. "This is the right time to come to the beach," I thought to myself, "when it reminds you that it's part of nature."
As I walked down the street in front of my new apartment building, I looked out at the serene-looking water, wondering how many years would pass before ocean levels rise enough to turn my street into the real Venice. Grab a boat and paddle. Welcome to Venice.
I recently watched a documentary about a sea port Caesar Augustus built two thousand years ago. Historians investigating the site now have to deal with the reality that water levels are three feet higher today than they were in Augusts' day.
Three feet in two thousand years.
How many years for the next three feet?
I'll write something about it if I need a water rescue from my apartment.
I don't really look forward to moving day. Lots of carrying and loading and pulling things up a flight of stairs. I'm glad to be back in the neighborhood, though. I recognize a guy on the Venice boardwalk who has been playing a guitar while roller blading, for twenty years now. He hasn't changed too much in twenty years. Maybe the lines in his face are a little deeper. But he doesn't care. He skates around the boardwalk, wailing away on his guitar. Not a bad life if you ask me.
The apartment itself is tiny, as apartments go. Apartment hunting in L.A. is pretty brutal. New York is probably ten times worse, but the process of trying to find a place - and beat out all the other applicants - has left me feeling a little punchy. Walking into places in my price range and wondering how the hell I get my stuff in here; being beaten out for places that were perfect; finding decent places I can afford, in neighborhoods that are less than ideal (Watts and Compton have great deals, really).
So, in the end, I plant my roots in Venice - not the Italian Venice, the Dude Venice.
And I sit and wait for the waters to rise.
-Peter Wick
October 15, 2014
It's in Venice, California, a block and a half from Venice beach. The end of the continent.
I've lived in Venice before. Twenty years ago I was in the neighborhood for two years. I'm not really a beach person, but I prefer the beach to the freeway.
A friend asked me, jokingly, "Do they speak Italian in Venice in California?" I said, "No, they speak Dude."
I remember heading out to the beach one December - I don't remember what year it was - when the cold wind was whipping in off the water so intensely, I could barely stand up straight. I was the only person at the beach that day. "This is the right time to come to the beach," I thought to myself, "when it reminds you that it's part of nature."
As I walked down the street in front of my new apartment building, I looked out at the serene-looking water, wondering how many years would pass before ocean levels rise enough to turn my street into the real Venice. Grab a boat and paddle. Welcome to Venice.
I recently watched a documentary about a sea port Caesar Augustus built two thousand years ago. Historians investigating the site now have to deal with the reality that water levels are three feet higher today than they were in Augusts' day.
Three feet in two thousand years.
How many years for the next three feet?
I'll write something about it if I need a water rescue from my apartment.
I don't really look forward to moving day. Lots of carrying and loading and pulling things up a flight of stairs. I'm glad to be back in the neighborhood, though. I recognize a guy on the Venice boardwalk who has been playing a guitar while roller blading, for twenty years now. He hasn't changed too much in twenty years. Maybe the lines in his face are a little deeper. But he doesn't care. He skates around the boardwalk, wailing away on his guitar. Not a bad life if you ask me.
The apartment itself is tiny, as apartments go. Apartment hunting in L.A. is pretty brutal. New York is probably ten times worse, but the process of trying to find a place - and beat out all the other applicants - has left me feeling a little punchy. Walking into places in my price range and wondering how the hell I get my stuff in here; being beaten out for places that were perfect; finding decent places I can afford, in neighborhoods that are less than ideal (Watts and Compton have great deals, really).
So, in the end, I plant my roots in Venice - not the Italian Venice, the Dude Venice.
And I sit and wait for the waters to rise.
-Peter Wick
October 15, 2014
Monday, September 15, 2014
#28 - Yahoo Bites The Dust
Several of my friends recently received a fake email, saying it was from me, that I was stranded in Turkey, desperate, and could they please send money.
Every one of my friends laughed at the email, ignored it, and went on with their lives.
I'm glad they knew it was fake, but their complete and total dismissal of an email purporting to be from me, claiming a desperate situation, and asking for money, made me wonder; what would happen if I actually were stuck in Turkey?
I mean, I don't have any plans, but I can imagine a scenario in which I fly to Turkey; maybe a plane is hijacked. Maybe to save my life I have to give a hijacker all my money. Then maybe I send out an email saying truthfully that I am stuck in Turkey, desperate, and can you please send money.
Would all of my friends laugh that one off?
Fortunately the email was fake.
Or unfortunately...since it meant that my email address of 15 years had been hacked into.
At this point in the story I am going to name names...Yahoo.
Yes, Yahoo, I'm talking to you.
Never has there been a more impenetrable black hole of a corporation than you.
After changing my password and following all of Yahoo's security instructions, I promptly lost all access to my old Yahoo email completely.
I don't mind saying good bye to Yahoo, but after 15 years of writing and film production, you can imagine how many documents, folders, legal and creative files I had among my attachments.
So I tried sending Yahoo a message through their help page.
No response.
I called Yahoo.
I listened to the following astounding message; "Our call volume is high. We may not be able to answer your call. If the connection is cut off, please go to the Yahoo help page."
I waited on hold for a few minutes, listening as their recorded message assured me that my call was important. Then everything went silent. I looked at my phone in disbelief. The connection had been cut off.
I called again.
Same thing.
I tried again the next day.
Same thing.
My old Yahoo email - and countless files - appear to be lost forever.
Good riddance Yahoo.
Maybe they're getting back at me for dropping their web hosting a few months ago.
My website was hosted by Yahoo for several years, until I was finally convinced by intelligent people that Yahoo web hosting is the worst web hosting available.
I am setting off on a new course in life. Many great things lie ahead.
Among them, and most important, is the ultimate and complete death of Yahoo.
Yahoo....you're going down!
-Peter Wick
September 15, 2014
Every one of my friends laughed at the email, ignored it, and went on with their lives.
I'm glad they knew it was fake, but their complete and total dismissal of an email purporting to be from me, claiming a desperate situation, and asking for money, made me wonder; what would happen if I actually were stuck in Turkey?
I mean, I don't have any plans, but I can imagine a scenario in which I fly to Turkey; maybe a plane is hijacked. Maybe to save my life I have to give a hijacker all my money. Then maybe I send out an email saying truthfully that I am stuck in Turkey, desperate, and can you please send money.
Would all of my friends laugh that one off?
Fortunately the email was fake.
Or unfortunately...since it meant that my email address of 15 years had been hacked into.
At this point in the story I am going to name names...Yahoo.
Yes, Yahoo, I'm talking to you.
Never has there been a more impenetrable black hole of a corporation than you.
After changing my password and following all of Yahoo's security instructions, I promptly lost all access to my old Yahoo email completely.
I don't mind saying good bye to Yahoo, but after 15 years of writing and film production, you can imagine how many documents, folders, legal and creative files I had among my attachments.
So I tried sending Yahoo a message through their help page.
No response.
I called Yahoo.
I listened to the following astounding message; "Our call volume is high. We may not be able to answer your call. If the connection is cut off, please go to the Yahoo help page."
I waited on hold for a few minutes, listening as their recorded message assured me that my call was important. Then everything went silent. I looked at my phone in disbelief. The connection had been cut off.
I called again.
Same thing.
I tried again the next day.
Same thing.
My old Yahoo email - and countless files - appear to be lost forever.
Good riddance Yahoo.
Maybe they're getting back at me for dropping their web hosting a few months ago.
My website was hosted by Yahoo for several years, until I was finally convinced by intelligent people that Yahoo web hosting is the worst web hosting available.
I am setting off on a new course in life. Many great things lie ahead.
Among them, and most important, is the ultimate and complete death of Yahoo.
Yahoo....you're going down!
-Peter Wick
September 15, 2014
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
#27 - Debate Over; Soccer has made it in America - July, 2014
We need to stop having an out-dated 20th century debate in the United States.
The out-dated 20th century debate is: "How can soccer make it in America?"
The relevant 21st century debate should be; "How DID soccer make it in America?"
Anyone who still thinks soccer has not made it has not been paying attention. It has happened. The debate is over...and it's been over for more than a decade.
Don't get me wrong. I understand that soccer is far from being the dominant sport in this country.
When I say soccer has made it in America, I am pointing to three undeniable factors:
1). Major League Soccer has become a permanent fixture of the American sports landscape. MLS is here to stay. It's making money and growing. Get used to it. The American sports landscape is; NFL, NBA, MLB, MLS, NHL, NASCAR, tennis, boxing, MMA, Lacrosse, and...well, you name it. If it's a competition it will find a home somewhere in America (hot dog eating contest, anyone?).
2). MLS is also a player on the world stage of soccer leagues...A PLAYER, not THE player, but A player.
While MLS does not boast the glamour of The English Premier League, Spain's La Liga, or Italy's Serie A, it has become a respected league on the world stage.
"The World Stage" is something that most American sports fans are still getting used to. We expect the world's best basketball players - from Spain (Pau Gasol), from Argentina (Manu Ginobili), from France (Tony Parker) - to come play in the NBA. anything else is the minor leagues.
In the world of soccer, though, every country has a league. Let me just say that one more time. Every country has a soccer league.
There is back and forth movement going on all the time. MLS sends players to Europe. European leagues send players here. It's a relationship.
It was a minor scandal in Australia when Tim Cahill moved from England to New York Red Bulls, rather than going home to play in Australia.
Moves like this actually give MLS a leg up on many countries leagues.
Maybe an up-and-comer in Costa Rica (the true World Cup surprise team this year) is weighing offers, but not from England, Spain, Italy, or Germany. Where do you want to play? Norway? Sweden? Greece? Japan? MLS? Many will pick MLS and play for Sporting Kansas City or D.C. United, rather than Malmo in Sweden, or Yokohama FM in Japan.
So...MLS is a player on the world stage of soccer leagues.
3). The U.S. Men's national team will always be expected to make the knockout rounds of future World Cups.
Okay, we're not semifinalists. We're not finalists. We're not champions. But, of the 32 teams arriving at each World Cup in the future, the U.S national team will always be expected, now. to end up in the top 16.
We've done it consistently enough in recent World Cups (three of the last four), that the expectation is established now.
Prior to this World Cup I argued with a few friends who were convinced that the U.S would not survive the "Group of Death." I was certain that we would. Once we did, the bar was permanently established; the U.S. should always be expected to get out of their group and reach the round of 16.
I guess the next step is to raise the bar up another notch.
See you in the Gold Cup next year, Mexico.
-Peter Wick
July 15, 2014
The out-dated 20th century debate is: "How can soccer make it in America?"
The relevant 21st century debate should be; "How DID soccer make it in America?"
Anyone who still thinks soccer has not made it has not been paying attention. It has happened. The debate is over...and it's been over for more than a decade.
Don't get me wrong. I understand that soccer is far from being the dominant sport in this country.
When I say soccer has made it in America, I am pointing to three undeniable factors:
1). Major League Soccer has become a permanent fixture of the American sports landscape. MLS is here to stay. It's making money and growing. Get used to it. The American sports landscape is; NFL, NBA, MLB, MLS, NHL, NASCAR, tennis, boxing, MMA, Lacrosse, and...well, you name it. If it's a competition it will find a home somewhere in America (hot dog eating contest, anyone?).
2). MLS is also a player on the world stage of soccer leagues...A PLAYER, not THE player, but A player.
While MLS does not boast the glamour of The English Premier League, Spain's La Liga, or Italy's Serie A, it has become a respected league on the world stage.
"The World Stage" is something that most American sports fans are still getting used to. We expect the world's best basketball players - from Spain (Pau Gasol), from Argentina (Manu Ginobili), from France (Tony Parker) - to come play in the NBA. anything else is the minor leagues.
In the world of soccer, though, every country has a league. Let me just say that one more time. Every country has a soccer league.
There is back and forth movement going on all the time. MLS sends players to Europe. European leagues send players here. It's a relationship.
It was a minor scandal in Australia when Tim Cahill moved from England to New York Red Bulls, rather than going home to play in Australia.
Moves like this actually give MLS a leg up on many countries leagues.
Maybe an up-and-comer in Costa Rica (the true World Cup surprise team this year) is weighing offers, but not from England, Spain, Italy, or Germany. Where do you want to play? Norway? Sweden? Greece? Japan? MLS? Many will pick MLS and play for Sporting Kansas City or D.C. United, rather than Malmo in Sweden, or Yokohama FM in Japan.
So...MLS is a player on the world stage of soccer leagues.
3). The U.S. Men's national team will always be expected to make the knockout rounds of future World Cups.
Okay, we're not semifinalists. We're not finalists. We're not champions. But, of the 32 teams arriving at each World Cup in the future, the U.S national team will always be expected, now. to end up in the top 16.
We've done it consistently enough in recent World Cups (three of the last four), that the expectation is established now.
Prior to this World Cup I argued with a few friends who were convinced that the U.S would not survive the "Group of Death." I was certain that we would. Once we did, the bar was permanently established; the U.S. should always be expected to get out of their group and reach the round of 16.
I guess the next step is to raise the bar up another notch.
See you in the Gold Cup next year, Mexico.
-Peter Wick
July 15, 2014
Saturday, June 14, 2014
#26 - Soccer, Noses, and Doctor's Advice - June, 2014
The World Cup began a couple days ago. Every four years life stops for a month as soccer dominates everything.
This means that the only thing I'm interested in writing about is soccer.
First, as a side note, I am comfortable referring to the sport as either soccer or football. The word 'soccer' originally came from England. The word 'football' comes from everywhere in the world. I am also comfortable with the word 'calcio,' which is what the Italians have called the game, both in its current form, and in previous forms going back about 500 years.
So...what am I going to write about soccer? I'm not going to write about the sport itself.
I am going to write about my nose.
I broke my nose in a soccer practice, one day when I was seventeen years old.
I was trying to out-jump my teammate Martin to head the ball as it came down out of the air. Being a practice, we had split up the team and Martin was playing against me.
Things happen in split seconds on the soccer field. Martin won the header. I snapped my head toward the ball a millisecond too late. My attempt to head the ball resulted in a collision between my nose and Martin's head.
Blood was everywhere.
My chin, my shirt, the ground below me, was all blood red.
Our coach suspended practice, put me in his car, and drove me to the hospital. The Doctor poked around inside my nose with some tools, straightened it out to about 3/4 or 7/8 of its normal straightness, and then gave me a choice.
He said I needed a more thorough procedure to fully repair my nose. I could have it done right away, and be medically banned from playing for several weeks until it was 100% healed. Or I could live with the slightly crooked nose and be cleared to play again in a week.
I took the second choice. I didn't want to miss games.
The Doctor made me promise that I would have the procedure done sometime in the next few years.
I never had it done.
Years later, my nose is still slightly crooked. It isn't too bad. In some pictures you can hardly tell. Up close it is noticeable, though.
Whenever i notice it, looking in a mirror, it just reminds me that I once chose to keep the crooked nose, because I didn't want to miss soccer games.
Now it is a lifelong reminder, and maybe, just maybe a bit of a badge of honor.
-Peter Wick
June 14, 2014
This means that the only thing I'm interested in writing about is soccer.
First, as a side note, I am comfortable referring to the sport as either soccer or football. The word 'soccer' originally came from England. The word 'football' comes from everywhere in the world. I am also comfortable with the word 'calcio,' which is what the Italians have called the game, both in its current form, and in previous forms going back about 500 years.
So...what am I going to write about soccer? I'm not going to write about the sport itself.
I am going to write about my nose.
I broke my nose in a soccer practice, one day when I was seventeen years old.
I was trying to out-jump my teammate Martin to head the ball as it came down out of the air. Being a practice, we had split up the team and Martin was playing against me.
Things happen in split seconds on the soccer field. Martin won the header. I snapped my head toward the ball a millisecond too late. My attempt to head the ball resulted in a collision between my nose and Martin's head.
Blood was everywhere.
My chin, my shirt, the ground below me, was all blood red.
Our coach suspended practice, put me in his car, and drove me to the hospital. The Doctor poked around inside my nose with some tools, straightened it out to about 3/4 or 7/8 of its normal straightness, and then gave me a choice.
He said I needed a more thorough procedure to fully repair my nose. I could have it done right away, and be medically banned from playing for several weeks until it was 100% healed. Or I could live with the slightly crooked nose and be cleared to play again in a week.
I took the second choice. I didn't want to miss games.
The Doctor made me promise that I would have the procedure done sometime in the next few years.
I never had it done.
Years later, my nose is still slightly crooked. It isn't too bad. In some pictures you can hardly tell. Up close it is noticeable, though.
Whenever i notice it, looking in a mirror, it just reminds me that I once chose to keep the crooked nose, because I didn't want to miss soccer games.
Now it is a lifelong reminder, and maybe, just maybe a bit of a badge of honor.
-Peter Wick
June 14, 2014
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