nut

SLEEP DEALER - DVD Review

2009-09-16T09:06:00.000-07:00

Well, I watched it last night and I have to say – If you’re looking for a well-acted, moving, authentic drama watch “Sin Nombre” instead.

The story was pretty linear and it missed so many great chances to be great. Instead, it settled for “ok”.

If you’ve seen the previews you already know the entire story. No surprises. No mystery. No enticing little details about this future world.

This is one of the few foreign films where a big-budget Hollywood re-make would be a huge improvement. Cast Benecio Del Toro and Salma Hayek and have Ridley Scott direct it and then you’d have something.

Pass.

KING CITY

2009-05-14T13:50:00.001-07:00

Not sure why, but the solicitation for this new comicbook series appeals to me.

Maybe because I have an affinity to insane storylines?

KING CITY #1, story BRANDON GRAHAM, art & cover BRANDON GRAHAM
Coming AUGUST 19, 32 PAGES, BW, $2.99

Pete falls in love with an alien he’s forced to betray…Anna watches her boyfriend literally turn into the drug he’s addicted to…and Joe has a cat that can become any tool or weapon.

It’s all just another day in King City, where mystery is down every alley…and weirdness is crawling through your window.

From critically acclaimed comics vet BRANDON GRAHAM comes a comic unlike any you have ever read!
**

SHADES OF SOMA?

2009-05-14T13:42:00.000-07:00

Today's news story about how pharmacutical giant Pfizer is giving away free Viagra and Lipitor to those who are unemployed sounds like the beginning of a Soma-like society where the masses are kept drugged and happy (ala Huxley's "Brave New World").

Story
HERE

TRENTON, N.J. — Pfizer Inc. says it will provide 70 of its most widely prescribed prescription drugs _ including Lipitor and Viagra _ for free to people who have lost their jobs and health insurance.

The world's biggest drugmaker said Thursday it will give away the medicines for up to a year to Americans who lost jobs since Jan. 1 and have been on the Pfizer drug for three months or more.

The announcement comes amid massive job losses caused by the recession and a campaign in Washington to rein in health care costs and extend coverage. The move could earn Pfizer some goodwill in that debate after long being a target of critics of drug industry prices and sales practices.

The program also likely will help keep those patients loyal to Pfizer brands.

*FULL STORY IN LINK ABOVE

"THE ROAD" Release Date - Oct. 16th

2009-05-13T09:31:00.001-07:00

One of the most powerful and elegantly written novels I've ever read in my life was Cormac McCarthy's "The Road". If you haven't read this book, you must go out and do so as soon as you possibly can. It is poignant, lyrical and poetic in its language and heartbreaking and stunning in its prose.

The film has been in development and post-production for quite a while now. There was some fear that the story wouldn't translate well to the big screen and that movie audiences would balk at the bleak subject matter (the end of the world) and the long, empty scenes where no one talks and silence suffocates the two survivors (a father and his young son).

Finally, the film has a release date (Oct. 16th) and an early review by Esquire magazine calls it "the most important film of the year".

The film stars Viggo Mortensen (Aragorn from LOTR to most) and was filmed primarily in locations of ruin and along abandoned freeways and in actual ghost towns to provide a stronger sense of realism and destruction.

I've been looking forward to this film even before I had read the novel.

Here's the blurb on the Esquire review:
Esquire magazine calls The Road, the post-apocalyptic movie based on Cormac McCarthy's best-selling SF novel, "the most important movie of the year."

"Go see it because it's two small people set against the ugly backdrop of the world undone," writes reviewer Tom Chiarella. "A story without guarantees. In every moment—even the last one—you'll want to know what happens next, even if you can hardly stand to look. Because The Road is a story about the persistence of love between a father and a son, and in that way it's more like a remake of The Godfather than some echo of I Am Legend. Only this one is different: You won't want to see this one twice."

PKD's "Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said" Film in Development

2009-05-13T09:26:00.000-07:00

I read this press release (below) and had to jump for joy. One of my favorite all-time PKD books is now being made into a feature film. Yes!

PRESS RELEASE
Halcyon Co. co-founders and co-chief executives Victor Kubicek and Derek Anderson, who picked up first-look rights to SF author Philip K. Dick's estate in 2007, have selected his 1974 novel Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said as the first of his works they will adapt for the screen, according to The Hollywood Reporter.

Set in a futuristic, dystopian world, Tears is the tale of a celebrity who wakes up after an assassination attempt to find no one has ever heard of him.

Isa Dick Hackett and Laura Leslie, co-founders of Electric Shepherd Productions, the production arm of the Dick estate, will develop the work alongside Kubicek and Anderson. Dale Rosenbloom and John Alan Simon also will produce.

Dick's works have served as the basis for such movies as Blade Runner, Total Recall, Minority Report and A Scanner Darkly, which together have grossed more than $1 billion worldwide.

WELCOME CBR READERS

2009-05-07T11:52:00.000-07:00

Apparently I won the cover challenge at PERMANENT DAMAGE and my blog was linked from there.

So, if you're joining me from CBR, welcome.

I actually used to write for CBR about seven or eight years ago doing mostly interviews with guys like Jim Steranko, Stan Lee, Brian Bendis, David Mack, and Paul Pope (among others).

These days I only dabble in comic and sci-fi stuff and if there's anything worth sharing along those lines it will end up here.

I also blog over at www.KeithGiles.com and that's mainly my focus these days along with my 3rd book project.

On the sci-fi front I'm currently just cracking open Cory Doctorow's "Little Brother" and so far it's great stuff. I'll post a full review here when I'm done.

I'm also reading ARKHAM ASYLUM for the first time and I've just finished PKD's book of philosophical writings which was fascinating.

More to come, I promise...

NEW PAUL POPE SCI-FI SERIES: ADAM STRANGE

2009-04-27T16:59:00.000-07:00

Awesome preview artwork from the upcoming series by Paul Pope: "Adam Strange" starting in July as part of the new, weekly newsprint comics zine from DC Comics called "Wednesday's Comics".

Can't wait!

REVIEW: RADIO FREE ALBEMUTH BY PKD

2009-04-27T15:54:00.000-07:00

"Radio Free Albemuth" is one of Philip K. Dick's finest novels, having been discovered and published after his death in 1985.

Although Dick wrote the novel back in 1975, ten years before, the book was orignally rejected by his then-publisher Bantam books and sent back to him for re-writes. Rather than handle the re-writes, Dick sent them a different book instead, although he did go back later and write new chapters to correct plot issues.

His original title for the book was "VALISystem A" but when Arbor House acquired the rights in 1985 they published an edition under the current title (the original was too close to VALIS, already published by then). The new, published manuscript was retitled "Radio Free Albemuth" and assembled from the corrected script given by PKD to his friend and fellow science fiction and fantasy author, Tim Powers.

"Radio Free Albemuth" is easily one of Dick's most thought-provoking and provocative books. As a novel that includes many of Dick's personal experiences, and Dick himself as a major character, the story takes on a strange, surreal quality that invades our reality and toys with our perception of the book itself - as fiction or as an allegory of actual events in Dick's life.

At one point in the story, Dick and his friend Nicholas are arrested by the authorities and taken into FAP custody (an SS-like group of secret police who intimidate ordinary citizens). One of the FAP officers tells Dick that they plan to publish books under his name in order to plant subliminal messages in people's minds. At this time in the authors life he is in the process of writing "Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said" and it makes one wonder if Dick had any intention of casting doubt as to the authorship of his own body of work after his death.

The book blurs the edges of reality, as most of Dick's books do, however this one manages to ask "What is fiction?" rather than, "What is human?" in a way that is quite entertaining and provocative.

One thing I loved about the book was how, at the midpoint, the first person narrative changed, in mid-sentence, from the voice of author Philip K. Dick to that of his friend Nicholas Brady. The effect was slightly disorienting and yet, ingeniusly well-timed in the story. Later on the voice switches back again in mid-sentence which makes sense. After all, we're reading a book written by Dick in the first place, so having Dick drift in and out of the narrative is fitting- because he's been the voice all along.

As someone who is aware of a lot of the major spiritual events of Dick's life, the book took on a fascinating quality as specific details spilled over into this book. Nicholas (or "Nick") and PKD (or "Dick") are practically synonymous. Events that Dick experienced such as hearing a voice speak to him about his son needing immediate medical attention and saving the boys life are re-told here as happening to Nicholas. As the two share in Dick's autobiographical experiences it becomes clear that the two are meant to serve as the one, interchangable character- Dick himself.

There is a bit of an alternate history going on where Richard Nixon is personified as "Ferris F. Fremont" and described as an undercover agent of the Soviet Communist Party, and an extra-terrestrial satellite is discovered orbiting our planet and openly reported about in the daily news, however we are always left wondering how much of this is allegory and how much is meant to be taken as fiction.

What makes reality more challenging to unravel stems from Dick's own, and very real, drug use. Of course, in this book he denies being a drug user and attributes the misconception to a misinformed quote from Harlan Ellison. At one point he laments the perception that he uses drugs and says that his readers should no more believe he uses drugs simply because he writes about drug use any more than a crime fiction writer should be assumed to be a murderer because he writes about murder. Of course, it is no secret that Dick did take large doses of amphetamines in his lifetime, largely to stay awake and allow him to write more - which meant he would get paid more. This fact is supported by the astounding number of novels Dick wrote in such a short time (over 36) and the hundreds of short stories he published as well.

In addition to the drug use, Dick also had his own personal bouts with mental illness. His behavior - self-medicating and constantly at the typwriter- suggest someone with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), which also largely contributed to his seemingly endless variety of story ideas.

For the uninitiated, Dick was also someone who dabbled quite a lot in philosophy and beleived that he was receiving messages from either an extra-terrestrial being (Valis) or God himself, much like Nicholas Brady in this very book. Because of this, Dick uses the book to unpack quite a bit of his own personal thoughts about God and his own twisted version of a quasi-Christian religion.

Another surprising element of the book was the humor. It was genuinely funny, which is something I cannot say about the majority of his novels (at least not the one's I've read to date).

Having finished the book I am curious as to whether or not any of Dick's other books can equal the quality of writing or the wall-to-wall lunacy found here.

So far this book ranks in the Top 5 list of Dick's books for me which include "Ubik", "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?", "The Man Who Japed" and "Flow My Tears The Policeman Said".

Highly recommended for fans of PKD.

DOES ANYONE REMEMBER?

2009-04-25T12:18:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid I used to repeat this old nonsensical limerick for fun. It went like this:

"One bright day in the middle of the night, two dead boys got up to fight.

Back to back they faced each other, drew their knives and shot each other. A deaf policeman heard the noise and came and shot those two dead boys.

If you don't believe this lie is true, just ask the blind man he saw it too."

5 PAGE PREVIEW: PKD'S "DO ANDROIDS DREAM..?" COMIC

2009-04-23T13:03:00.000-07:00

The first 5 pages of the new comic version of PKD's "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep" are now online
HERE

Not sure how I feel about the constant and unnecessary "he said/Iran said" on every word balloon, but the art looks great and having a comic version of this amazing novel is enough to push me over the edge.

Especially since there's the chance that the success of this comic novel could mean future PKD projects down the road and I'd love to read a comic book version of "Flow My Tears" or "Ubik".

ON CREATIVITY BY LINFORD DETWEILLER

2009-04-16T09:03:00.000-07:00

This letter below was sent to me by someone I consider a friend, although he probably doesn't remember meeting me at the Squeeze concert 15 years ago in Los Angeles.

Linford is a songwriter and gifted musician who also happens to write letters that read like poetry.

His band, Over The Rhine, also records some of the most beautiful music around.

Here ya go:
**

Hello friends and extended family,

I know of a glass blower who gets up every morning in the dark to do
his work. Before the world wakes up, before the phone starts ringing,
in the sacred remains of the night when all is still, he gathers and
begins to fuse his raw materials: the breath from his lungs, glowing
flame, imagination, dogged hope.

I used to work from the other direction. I loved the feeling of still
being up after the rest of the city (and world) had grown sleepy, the
light of a lamp making my third story bedroom windows glow while I
leaned over my desk and sailed towards something I couldn’t name.

Someone sent me this little excerpt awhile back, in a beautiful letter
of encouragement I should add, the sort of letter that makes everything
slow down, hold still:

Here dies another day
During which I have had eyes, ears, hands
And the great world round me;
And with tomorrow begins another.
Why am I allowed two?
- GK Chesterton

I’d really be okay with this being my epitaph.

When I was younger I would often write myself short job descriptions. I
was thinking out loud about what might be worth hanging a life on, a
life I was willing to sign my name to:

-Create spaces where good things can happen.

-Give the world something beautiful, some gift of gratitude,
no matter how insignificant or small.

-Write love letters to the whole world.

-Build fires outdoors, and lift a glass and tell stories,
and listen, and laugh, laugh, laugh. (Karin says I’m still working
on this one. She thinks I still need to laugh more, especially at
her jokes, puns and witty asides.)

-Flip a breaker and plunge the farm into darkness so that the stars can
be properly seen.

-Do not squander afflictions.

-Own the longing, the non-negotiable need to “praise the mutilated
world.”

-Find the music.

I still crave the extravagant gesture, the woman spilling a year’s
wages on the feet of Jesus, the rarest perfume, washing his feet and
drying them with her hair, a gesture so sensual it left the other men
in the room paralyzed with criticism, analysis, theoretical moral
concern - for what - the poor? Or was it just misdirected outrage in
light of the glaring poverty of their own imaginations?

Some friends of mine were talking about this scene the other night. We
got to imagining Mary with a pixie haircut, which made the drying more
difficult. We were drinking wine and Rob had made something to eat late
at night: take a cracker, put a thin slice of fresh pear on it, then
some sautéed goat cheese from the skillet, and top it with walnuts
drizzled with honey from the oven. At midnight?!

Someone once described our music as a mash-up of spirituality, whimsy
and sensuality.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Music and art and writing: extravagant, essential, the act of spilling
something, a cup running over…

The simultaneous cry of, You must change your life, and Welcome home.

I’ve been trying to write songs again, and I’ve been hitting a maze of
dead ends. I want the songs to reveal something to me, teach me
something. It’s slow going. I’m not sure where I’m going. Uncertainty
abounds.

But the writing works on me little by little and begins to change me.
That’s why I would recommend not putting off writing if it’s something
you feel called to: if you put it off, then the writing can’t do the
work that it needs to do to you.

Yes, I think there’s something there. If you don’t do the work, the
work can’t change you. (No one expects to change overnight.)

My sister Grace recently sent me this quote from a slim little volume
called Art and Fear:

Uncertainty is the essential, inevitable and all-pervasive companion to
your desire to make art. And tolerance for uncertainty is the
prerequisite to succeeding.

A blessing for the writers among us: May all your dead ends be
beautiful.

When I was younger and I found myself sitting down in a new season of
writing, I would put my pen down and close up the pica typewriter (the
only letterpress printing machine I ever learned to operate all by
myself, the bell of encouragement and mild alarm ringing at the end of
every line, I can still hear it) and feel compelled to clean my rooms,
put my world in order. It used to take 3-4 days.

Now it takes 3-4 months.

Our messes get bigger. And bigger.

So, I’ve been getting “caught up” with taxes and filing, putting things
away, making lists, getting more than a few lagging projects out the
door that are overdue (the first Over the Rhine songbook?!). And on and
on.

Someone in our Santa Fe songwriting workshop once confessed, I’m good
at a lot of things that will kill me. For those of us who write, there
are always so many options that don’t involve the dilemma, the
extravagance of the blank page. When we sit down to write, there’s
never a guarantee that we’ll have anything to show for it that we can
touch with our hands, or see with our own eyes. In fact, life is a lot
cleaner and more manageable when I’m not writing.

Yes, I’ll just admit it. I’m a writer that all too often is more than
happy to run from writing. But sooner or later I realize something is
dying inside. And then I try to get back to work.

From Linford Detweiler, Over The Rhine
April, 2009

VISIT OVERTHERHINE.COM

DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP?

2009-04-14T13:20:00.000-07:00

Boom! Studios Announces new 24 issue comic book mini-series based on PKD's classic novel.

Written by Phillip K. Dick, art by Steven Dupre, covers by Dennis Calero, Bill Sienkiewicz, Moritat and Scott Keating.

The book that inspired the film Blade Runner comes to BOOM! with backmatter by Warren Ellis!

Visionary sci-fi author Philip K. Dick's "Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?" has been called "a masterpiece ahead of its time, even today" and served as the basis for the Ridley Scott film Blade Runner.

The Story: San Francisco lies under a cloud of radioactive dust. The World War killed millions, driving entire species to extinction, and sending mankind off-planet. Those who remained coveted any living creature, and for people who couldn't afford one, companies built incredibly realistic fakes: horses, birds, cats, sheep -- even humans. Rick Deckard is an officially sanctioned bounty hunter tasked to find six rogue androids -- they're machines, but look, sound, and think like humans, clever, and most of all, dangerous humans.

Rick Deckard, Pris, The Voight-Kampff Test, Nexus 6 androids, the Tyrell Corporation: join BOOM! Studios as the complete novel transplanted into the comic book medium, mixing all new panel-to-panel continuity with the actual text from the novel in an innovative, groundbreaking 24-issue maxi-series experiment.

Coming in June.
32 pages, $3.99.

To Luke Crow

2009-04-08T16:18:00.000-07:00

As the serpent is lifted up in the wilderness
so is my anger lifted up against you
If my desire to end your life were a flame
oh how I would burn
supernova, under a blue sky
with a Bible in my hand
and a thorn in my side
I am torn, I am
torn between lusting
for the warmth
of your blood
on my hands and
longing to see you covered
in the blood of the Lamb.

And I hope one day
to find you sleeping
and to raise my sword
above your head
to cut a lock of your hair
and leave it beside you
as you dream

You are not the king
you hope to be
and my songs can never
soothe the demon
in you
or me

by keith giles

Elegy by Keith Giles

2009-03-27T13:39:00.000-07:00

and so we make ourselves ready
with cloth and comb and polish
measuring the circumference
of a life once lived
careful with our hands
we smooth the wrinkles
straighten the crease
immerse ourselves in sunlight
shallow and warm and silent

we cradle the glass
in trembling palms
take sips between exchanges unspoken
breathing slowly
when it comes between us
unexpected, quiet, and dark.

we make ourselves ready.

THE UNTELEPORTED MAN by Philip K. Dick (A Review)

2008-12-29T13:04:00.000-08:00

While visiting my parents in El Paso I ran across two great paperback editions by PKD, one was "The Unteleported Man" and the other was "The Eye in the Sky". I picked up both for $5.00 which was awesome and I started reading "The Unteleported Man" immediately.

The first 100 pages of the book are seriously amazing. I was all prepared to declare it one of my favorite PKD books, up until page 100 when the story took a complete left turn into stupidity.

Apparently the book has been published in various forms over the years with the additional material (where things get really stupid) being added in by the author himself to expand a short story which originally appeared in a sci-fi anthology as a long-form short story.

Those first 100 pages are good enough to inspire a feature length film, as long as the adaptation avoided the detour added in to pad the story.

I would recommend the book to those who already love PKD as I do and who are patient enough to plow their way through the second half of the book to get to the ending which was part of the original short story.

For the record, these are my favorite PKD books in no particular order:

*Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
*Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said
*The Man Who Japed
*Ubik

I might also note that I have read but not particularly enjoyed "The Man in the High Castle" and "A Scanner Darkly" which are often hailed as some of PKD's greatest novels.

Of course, I have barely scratched the surface since he wrote over 40 novels and hundreds of short stories in his lifetime.

I am currently reading the "Paycheck" collection of short stories by PKD and have just finished "The Eye of the Sybil" collection.

While I'm in a list-making mood, here are my favorite sci-fi films of all time:

*Blade Runner
*Brazil
*Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
*Children of Men
*Gattaca
*Alien
*Aliens
*Terminator
*The Matrix

-kg

MY FAVORITE CARTOON

2008-12-28T17:43:00.001-08:00

SOONER OR LATER - SHORT SCI-FI FILM

2008-12-05T15:55:00.000-08:00

This 10 minute short sci-fi time travel film will warp your brain like a PKD short story on speed. (Which PDK was on most of the time).

Check it:

INTO THE TEETH OF THE DARK KNIGHT

2008-07-21T16:58:00.000-07:00

It's not uncommon for a film director to use a recurring visual theme to communicate something to the audience that transcends the script or the performance of the actors.

For example, "Blade Runner", the epic sci-fi film directed by Ridley Scott, employs a recurring eye theme throughout the film. The movie opens on a tight close-up of an eye wherein we see the reflection of giant refineries belching fire into the night sky. The camera lingers on the eyes of each actor. Characters sport strange eye-glasses. We are inundated with the human eye throughout the film and it becomes a visual touchstone for the viewer and a subtle whisper for the director to point us to notice something unspoken in his art.

One of the most unexpected themes of the new "Dark Knight" film starring Christian Bale and Heath Ledger is teeth.

Anyone who watches this film will know what I'm talking about. The teeth in this film are a significant visual touchstone.

First we have our main star, Christian Bale. The first time he smiles on camera you'll notice that he's wearing a set of those fake vampire teeth that you buy from the vending machines at Toys R Us, which is kinda cool except then you realize that he's not wearing one of those and you say to yourself, "Hey, that guy has really weird vampire-like teeth."

Morgan Freeman, an actor of amazing range and ability, also has a set of very scary teeth. Just watch the scene where he smiles at the Chinese business owner from across the bargaining table. It will make you wish you were a dentist…or maybe thankful that you're not his dentist.

The Joker, played brilliantly by the late Heath Ledger, also sports a set of yellowed, coffee-stained chompers which he flashes to us continuously throughout the film in scenes gruesome, black humor.

Finally, Aaron Eckhart, who plays the tragic Harvey "Two Face" Dent, displays a
mouth full of perfectly-formed pearly whites which become even more prominent when you get to peek through his grotesquely burned cheek at those never-ending, shiny white molars.

Not sure why the film has such a strong teeth motif, and I'm not sure if it was intentional or not, but this film leaves a serious bite mark.

-Keith Giles

WHO IS THE NEXT BATMAN?

2008-04-21T14:13:00.000-07:00

Apparently comics writer Grant Morisson has plans to replace Bruce Wayne with a new Batman following the end of his upcoming "Batman:RIP" storyline.

Although we're not sure what will happen to Bruce Wayne, it seems clear that Morisson plans to introduce a new Batman under the cowl. The question is, will it be Dick Grayson- the original Robin and currently fighting crime by night as "Nightwing"; or will it be Tim Drake the new Robin; or will it be Damian Wayne, the recently introduced son of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al-Gul?

Here's a great idea: Let all three of them be Batman!

Part of the mystique of Batman is the sense of fear he places in the hearts of criminals. Imagine if Batman started showing up all over Gotham at once?

Why should there be only one Batman? All three of the above candidates could easily wear the cape and distribute justice in Gotham liberally.

Instead of leading fans through a year-long pissing match between these 3 heroes competing for the cowl, just let all of them be Batman collectively. They could even take shifts!

Not only would this be a novel idea, they could also justify all those Batman books on the shelves and better explain how one Batman could fill 10 books a month!

So, I predict we'll have Batman: Nightwing; Damian Wayne: Batman; and Tim Drake-Batman books when all is said and done.

And they can ride that horse until sales fall on those books, and then they can jump start things again when Bruce Wayne returns to kick ass and take names.

Key scene in the "Mulitple Batmen" storyline? Gordon refuses to address any of these guys as "Batman" and says, "The only Batman is Wayne, and you know it."

You mean...you knew?

"Of course kid, I was a detective in this city when you were eating your own boogers."

What do you think?

kg

POETRY OF KEITH GILES

2008-04-14T16:34:00.000-07:00

This is posted online elsewhere, but the link is almost 10 years old and one day, who knows when, it will probably disappear.

In preparation for that inevitability I will re-post these poems for posterity here:

NOVEMBER SKY
by Keith Giles

I remember the closing eyes
the last breath
the silence after the snowflake
of life has melted and gone.
I yearn for words of comfort
for great peace to blow the hurt
away, for a brief minute to share
your name in this November sky.
I understand
the sharpness of tearing away
into something only memories can gather,
the great depth of wishing
the ears could hear
or the blind could see
the way you will always feel.
Only sharing in the likeness
of your sorrow I may speak
without a sound.
I will take your burden
we will find a quiet hill somewhere
and our fingers will press down
and pull away the land
together we will bury it.

for my friend Paul Moore

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A HANDFUL OF NAMES
by Keith Giles

River of remembrance
river of pain
two sides of the same
rusted coin
found at the bottom of yesterday's well
a wish that went unanswered.

I've seen this movie once
before, same clothes, same lines,
same ending, I am
the same.

A shroud for April
raging from the grave
two hands grasping nothing
as in life, so in death.

Precious, fragile, temporal
there are only a handful
of names, I am among them
numbered.

A pale horse waits
to be mounted, stomping clay
with impatient hooves of bone.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BLOOD
by Keith Giles

There was rhythm in the air that morning
a seed-planting rhythm in a land
of broken ground. It traveled
from my heel to
my fingertips and
circled in my neck until
I bowed my head in submission. The beat
continued, echoed across
the arid stretch
of the hillside and all
of the faceless people stood
swaying to the rhythm
the compelling metronome
of hammer and nail and
the crescendo mounted until the blood
the blood gushed hot and wet onto the grass
we held our breath until they lifted
the crossbar over our heads, until the sky
turned to black cloud, until he whispered that it was finished and the soldiers took him down.
But the rhythm never left my feet
kept time with
the beating in my heart, turned
my blood to wine.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DARK WINGS
by Keith Giles

I see a moon
out of orbit
falling into
a laughing star
exploding
like fears
feathers dark
and spreading over
my child's bedroom window
wings tempered in iron
furnaces of light
tap at the glass
deep, bloodless
eyes below hooded lids
that open and close
with falling of rain
or stars
solemn, avenging.

In the doorway
in the dark
aware of every breath
no one sees me
no one smiles
tomorrow I will summon a Doctor
a specialist, a grandmother
a friend
and my wife
we will all watch a different part of her
as it passes into the raging star.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ALBUM PARK
by Keith Giles

Not running anymore
the thunder of blood in my ears
the only hint of rain
quiet lightning across the tree line
shatters the night sky for an instant
then heals again
heals in me the storms you've raged.
No answer in the whisper of leaves, no
hope in the cold of a cat's-eye moon
I inhale my portion of the dark
exhale the deep ache of your ghost in me
give back all the hurt I've ever known.
I give it back.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BESIDE A SLOW RIVER
by Keith Giles

Here,
beside a slow river
receiving alms
of sand, wages of heat
prayers of rain
I admit failure.

Here,
beneath tired limbs
ghost-brown cicada shells
cling to the gray mesquite
where I lean my shoulder
contemplating nothing.

Here,
in the long shadow
of a sage-covered mountain
bound in a chain
of wondering
I am quiet,
holy and evil in a desert of wandering
souls, driven by thirst
and sin, forgiveness
and sand
receiving alms
wages, and a few
heavy prayers.

**
All poems copyright 2007 by Keith Giles and may not be used, printed or reprinted without permission from the author.

Contact me at
"elysiansky" at hotmail (dot) com for more info

The Short Films of Neill Blomkamp

2008-04-11T15:40:00.000-07:00

Just tumbled over these incredible short films by director Neill Blomkamp.

Once you watch "Alive in Joburg" and "Tetra Vaal"

HERE

..be sure to google his name and watch other like "Tempbot" and his Citroen and Nike commercials.

One day this guy needs to direct a full-length sci-fi film. (Note: He was originally tapped to direct the big-screen HALO motion picture but that film got canned recently due to budget constraints).

Enjoy!
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THE 21 STEPS: SCI-FI AND GOOGLE MAPS

2008-03-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

"The 21 Steps" is a sci-fi story told by following the main character's trail by using Google maps."

Amazing stuff
HERE

THE MUSHROOM MAN

2008-02-19T08:34:00.000-08:00

The Mushroom Man
by Keith Giles

This week's "Elephant Words" burst fiction.
See image"
Here

After years of running the diamond smuggling cartels throughout Africa, the mysterious Nicolai managed to operate completely through only two men, and of those only one had ever seen him face to face. One man was Alphonse Meridian, a short barrel-chested assassin who only received orders from Nicolai via telephone, and the other was Randolph Siegel, Nicolai's accountant.

The closest Interpol got to him was an undercover agent who entered Nicolai's operation on the ground in Nigeria as a gun-runner. After two solid years proving himself worthy Siegel promoted him to an overseer in their diamond smuggling operation as a pilot. The agent, David Camp, was perfect for the job. His experience flying helicopters into combat zones in Korea proved invaluable to Nicolai's operation and his fame soon spread throughout the organization.

Five years later the agent was installed as Siegel's personal bodyguard and he occasionally flew a private jet to high-level negotiations throughout Europe and Asia.

Interpol nearly threw the switch to take down Siegel and the exposed portion of the operation, but Camp assured them he was only months away from a face-to-face opportunity with Nicolai, and he was right.

Siegel confided in the agent one night that Nicolai was fearful of being identified by the authorities and had scheduled a surgery to change his facial appearance and forever disappear. This meant that, once the operation was complete, Nicolai would become invisible, even to Siegel. Camp knew their time was running out. If they ever hoped to catch Nicolai he time was ripe to act.

Under orders from his superiors Camp assisted in the abduction of Siegel's wife who lived in a large private estate in southern Spain. A small team of five black ops agents hit the water one mile off the coast of his private villa and snorkled onto the beach two hours before dawn. From there they made their way through the forest behind the house and took her and a twelve year old daughter out at gunpoint.

Siegel received the news of the abduction when Camp revealed his identity and demanded to know where Nicolai's surgery was scheduled to occur. Siegel held up brilliantly, even under torture, and only relented when his wife's middle finger was presented to him in a bloody newspaper.

When Camp arrived at the private doctor's office where Nicolai's surgery was scheduled he found a room splattered with blood and two dead bodies, one being the plastic surgeon and the other, presumably, Nicolai. But Interpol could never be sure if the body was indeed that of Nicolai or some other man's dead body planted there to throw them off the trail.

Soon the news of Nicolai's death spread throughout Europe and the power vacuum inspired a bloody internal power struggle. Siegel served only five years in minimum security prison due to his willingness to share a few names and details of Nicolai's operation, although he never divulged the location of Nicolai's massive wealth, claiming that only the now deceased kingpin knew the actual bank account numbers and passwords.

Camp received a commendation and was put on a desk job, which he never liked, and eventually he retired from the business and took a flat in central London.

One day, roughly fourteen years after the biggest undercover assignment of his life, Camp was out on the street, enjoying the rare moment of sunshine and he saw Siegel. He was sitting at a local farmer's market behind a booth selling homegrown mushrooms.

Camp stood across the street staring intently until he was sure it was really Siegel. He studied the mannerisms, the way the old man held his cigarette. The way he brushed his hair away from his eyes. The way he coughed and spat. Finally he placed his hands in his pockets and walked slowly across the street towards his old nemesis.

"Hello Siegel," he said calmly. The man looked at him through old, tired eyes and it took him a moment to connect the face and the voice. Siegel said nothing at first, only nodded slowly and looked away, flicking ash off his imported cigarette with his middle finger and watching the specks float to the sidewalk like isolated flakes of snow.

Slowly Siegel looked back and this time he was smiling. His teeth were yellowed from years of nicotine. They had the color of an old bruise against his weathered lips. He coughed and spat and then looked back up at Camp. "Would you like to know something funny," he said.

"After what we've both seen, I think a good laugh would be in order," Camp said.

"After you abducted my wife and daughter she left me for another man," he said. "She said she could never trust me after finding out that I had allowed you to find her and our child. I can't say I blame her, of course."

Camp waited for the punchline. "I thought you were going to tell me something funny," he said.

Siegel took a last drag on his cigarette and dropped it on the concrete, crushing it out with a few pivots of his boot toe. He looked off into the sky, over Camp's shoulder at the skyline. "Looks like rain again," he said to know one in particular. Then he refocused his weathered eyes on Camp's face and smiled. "I suppose it's funny depending on your perspective," Siegel said. "My wife, she was Greek. Her maiden name was Nicolai."

Camp stood there staring at Siegel's mushrooms.

"In the end," Siegel said, "I think it's funny that Nicolai gave you the finger."

Camp found it hard to laugh as Siegel's cough erupted into a mocking hack.

"At least you got the finger," he said again through his uncontrollable cough and cackle.

Camp could only stand there with his hands in his pockets as the first few cold drops of rain began to patter against his shoulders.

*
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Oppression by Keith Giles

2008-02-15T14:35:00.000-08:00

Short fiction for this week's image over at
Elephant Words

SEE IMAGE HERE

Oppression by Keith Giles

This is how it always starts. First it's one sign. Company policy. Nothing I can do about it, M'am. And then, before you know it, sooner than you'd expect, the martial law orders come down in the middle of the night and policemen in riot gear are riding through the streets firing tear gas at college students and pummelling the innocent in unison.

No one ever takes responsibility for these things. The media blames the government, the politicians blame the media, and the average joe suffers. People like you and me, we're only necessary to keep the machine pumping. Our muscles operate the conveyor belts of progress and our lusts fuel the economy built on the consumption of taxable vice.

The angel spoke to me again last night. Couldn't sleep at all. My damn tooth again. I could put pressure on that side of my head and feel the hot infection spread beneath the skin, radiating over my skull.

I was in the bathroom dabbing the last of the Ambusol on the molar when she began to sing to me. Just like last time only louder. "Send them to me," she sang. The colors of the vision were liquid joy. They spun in the air between the mirror and my head, just out of reach. I wanted to close my eyes and sleep to the heavenly music, but I couldn't bear to shut out the colors.

It only lasted ten, maybe fifteen minutes but when it was over my eyes were full of tears. I blinked them away, letting them run like hot rivers down my swollen cheeks.

Donnie had given me a pound of dynamite last year, before he jumped off the bank building, before Janet left him for that guitarist. I found it under my bed, wrapped in an old U2 t-shirt. It smelled like a pair of old boots my dad used to make me shine for him every Saturday afternoon.

"Send them to me," the angel sang. I couldn’t get that music out of my head. All night long it resonated, echoing in my mind like a song you hate but cannot keep humming once you've heard it playing over the radio.

I shoved the old dynamite, still bundled in the t-shirt, into my backpack and zipped it shut along with a picture of me and Donnie from his birthday party last winter and a letter I had written for my Mother but never mailed.

The next day, at the DMV, I went into the bathroom and unspooled the lump, held together with two orbits of duct tape, and lit the lead fuse with my dad's old Zippo. I always loved the "Clicht" and "Snicht" of the chrome cover as it opened and closed. I felt like a Soviet spy purging the world of capitalism and mindless oppression.

As I watched the fuse sizzle down I heard the angel sing to me again. It was faint at first, but soon I could hear her soft whisper, "The poison in my veins sang like jaded copper bees, the blood it spilled rain down in drops, rained down my arms, filled up my sleeves…"

Tiny sparks were popping intermittently out of the fuse. Tiny tendrils of smoke spun off of each flashing ember and faded slowly into the air above my head like silver daydreams.

I unlocked the bathroom door and tossed the lump high into the air, underhanded like tossing a grapefruit to a friend across the room. Before it hit the ground it erupted into a shower of force and light. Kaleidoscope of color and fury set to the sound of angels in joyous release.

"Here they come," I said to the angels, just before all of the lights went out.

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Richard Kadrey - Master of Burst Sci-Fi

2008-02-15T09:57:00.000-08:00

Richard Kadrey is the master of what I call "Burst Sci-Fi" which is the art of writing short stories that fit onto a single page yet are more intriguing and beguiling than any novel-length story you've ever read.

Kadrey manages to pack more great ideas, with exquisite language, into a small space than anyone I've ever known.

Proof? Here it is:

MUDROSTI (the burning satellite re-entry)
http://www.infinitematrix.net/stories/shortshorts/kadrey17.html

And this:
DOG BOYS (the pre-"Desolation Jones" short):
http://www.infinitematrix.net/stories/shortshorts/kadrey21.html

And this:
SURFING THE KHUMBU (mega-cool sci/fi spy girl action):
http://www.infinitematrix.net/stories/shortshorts/kadrey27.html

Go. Read. Marvel.

Kadrey is a master.

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