Next Week

Next week is a big one. For example:


Or, you know:

Never Shoot Heroin with a Guy Named Bones, and Other Important Lessons

For the month and a half I worked as an advertising copywriter, I was discouraged from using the term “unqualified success” in press releases because my employers were convinced that people would think it sounded negative. I am convinced that they just didn’t know the definition.

For instance, Revenge of the Rant-O-Wheel on Tuesday night was an unqualified success. The show started almost on time (a first!), the room was packed, and all of the stories were hilarious.

The evening began with an important informational slideshow by Dr. Steven A. Manheart on the History of the Rant-O-Wheel, from its origins with the Native American tribes of California, the wheel’s rise and fall from grace in Belgium at the behest of Philip II of Spain, the rediscovery of the wheel by The Vampire of Sacramento, Richard Trenton Chase in 1976, all the way up to present day Philadelphia.

Plied with the promise of free Halloween temporary tattoos, audience members and ringers alike joined in the storytelling melee. Meg Favreau took first place with her tale of “The Red Hamper” which is a euphemism for a sexual act to which I, as a vegetarian, am personally opposed. In second place was our first audience volunteer, Larry from Worcester, with a story about Doug the Racist Dolphin’s demise. Tied for third place were Pat Kelly’s story – notable for a creative use of “Daryl Hall”, and Micah Bedrosian’s story about getting his first tattoo. The unsung hero of the night was PJI’s Alexis Simpson, Rant-O-Wheel professional, who makes it look so easy that it’s embarrassing for the rest of us.

After a minor drug freakout, a Canadian’s take on 9/11, and a few embarrassing celebrity mentions, Doctor Manheart and I performed the first-ever tag-team rant. Turns out, he’s my half-brother. It’ll go down in history as the best Rant-O-Wheel show until the next one.

Second Stories

A Vignette

Because I hate flash fiction, I thought it would be a good idea to attempt some.

A Tase for the Finer Things

He was a tall, broad man, but his hands swam in the sleeves of his suit. Boxy and oversized, it had the sparkle of cheap costume polyester. With it, he wore a red bowtie, which made him look like a member of the Nation of Islam, or a waiter, but he wore it proudly, like a boy in his father’s suit. He wanted his espresso in a china cup – something about it makes the coffee taste better, he says, stirring in careful spoonfuls of sugar, and smiles to show he’s savoring it.

“You’ve got a good machine. I can tell. One of the old ones.”

Like an iceberg, his path is wide, but precise. Subtle. He asks before making room at the counter next to the old woman and her breakfast.

“Are you married?” he asked. “I just bought my wife a ring. We’ve been married for six years.”

“Yes. Sixty years.”

“That’s amazing,” he said, and paused, considering the next fifty four years, and how he’d spend them. She’d never quite thought of it that way. It was just how things were done. “No one really respects marriage anymore.”

“No, you’re right. It’s just not valued these days.” She had a lilting English accent like a storybook narrator’s: gentle, but insistent. “I met my husband when we were twenty years old.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yes.” He finished the coffee and smiled.

“I hope you’re married a hundred years.” She was perplexed, but she thanked him, because he seemed genuine.

“Have a nice day.”

“And you have an even better day!”

When the woman had finished, she brought her plate up front. “That croissant was excellent,” she said. “Just like in France.”

And Another Thing!

Every so often, I feel like I should use this internet space for more personal reasons, like to talk about things that bother me, or show off pictures of my kids*.

So, here are a few lists of things I've been to lazy to compose into interesting thoughts.

What I've Been Into Lately:

"St. James Infirmary Blues"
Get Some Sun in Yr Blood by Tinmouthy
4 lbs of Sweet Potatoes for $1.50
Lying About Ben Franklin

(This guy drives a Subaru Outback - no lie.)
The 9th Doctor
Cary Grant

Recent Victories:
Getting paid for two consecutive shows, totalling $45.
Successfully working crowds of total strangers
Being billed as "Local Sensation Jaime Fountaine"

Recent Disappointments:
Getting asked if the Rant-O-Wheel 2.0 (built by Jeremy Tenenbaum) was a school project by an old man
That I won't get my copy of The Awful Possibilities until the spring. (I paid for it in MARCH, Featherproof.)

I Swear:
The double-TeBordo mention was a total coincidence.
Tuesday's show is going to be fun.
That I have a really good reason for going to the Renaissance Faire this weekend.

I Bet:
You're glad I don't do this more often



*I don't have any!

I'm Your Biggest Fan

All I Ever Wanted

I've spent my summer so far a dull self-promotion machine, wrapped up mostly in writing and performing in and being disappointed and ecstatic over shows. The one tomorrow is going to be excellent.

It's been a summer of Scotch and Sodas, sometimes too many, enough to make me the kind of clear, businessman drunk that only fictional ad executives and movie accountants (who have just discovered something terrible about their own futures, that will allow them to finally live life to the fullest) get. The kind of drunk that makes a visit to a children's museum difficult the next day.

I've been reading John O'Hara's very short stories. They put contemporary flash fiction* so much to shame that I shouldn't even talk about it. John O'Hara is an important lesson about being nice, because his reviews were based more upon how unlikable he was than how good he was at writing. He was also notable for his drinking, like Faulkner was, except that Pottsville boy lacked a certain Mississippi charm.

What I mean to say is, I'm going on vacation. My first as an adult. One that will allow me to drink cheap Scotch on Faulkner's grave, visit my childhood ghosts, and see the world's smallest city block. I'm headed South. After Second Stories, that is.


*It's fair to say that I'm wary of flash fiction. Almost as much as I am prose poetry, which I feel is the lowest form of either genre.

Enter the Rant-O-Wheel Daredevil Storytelling Competition!

One Small Step for Jaime...

A story I wrote, "Confetti" will be published in this month's Eastown Fiction.

Bonerama!

Similarities

Stepdads

(poster by Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum)

If a Tree Falls in the Forest

I’ve known The Sixth Borough since their inception in dismal January 2007 at the Ric Rac and in our living room. I was at stage left switching lights at their first show. I peddled “ADULTS” tickets, drunkenly disparaged Die Actor Die judges on their behalf, joined them on the radio. They are my friends and my colleagues, and in some cases, closer to family. I’m sentimental because I’m proud: at Snubfest this weekend in Chicago, they won both the Audience and Judges' prizes for sketch comedy.

When my friends do well, I’m happy for them. Not only because they should do well, but because it gives me hope. I do what I’m doing in a bubble. I have my shows, and lord knows The Dive has given me more opportunities than I’m worth, but the room is only so big, and will only get me so far. I am good at reading, but who’s ever sat down with my writing?

I’m not alone like this. I went to college for this kind of disappointment. I was told, a few weeks before graduating that I am “not [a writer].” That afternoon, fuming, I looked around the room and realized I was one of very few who were willing to fight against that. It’s only natural to worry now it’s all been for naught.

When things like this happen to people that I love and respect who have earned it with cleverness and talent above anything else, it reminds me, however fleetingly, that what I am working for could be worth something, and that persistence is pretty much all I’ve got in my favor. But it’s something, and occasionally, it pays off.

Something's Afoot Finally

Hey, remember that radioplay that Jeremy and I wrote and performed with the Sixth Borough six months ago? No? Well, here it is, available for your listening pleasure.

Feverish

On Tuesday, I was so taken by fever that I forgot to introduce my bit on Doctor Who monsters properly. The audience just assumed that I had made up a series of strange creatures that I thought might attack earth. The part about building underground cities in strategic locations was intentional, though.

Terrible Ideas I've Had Today

1. Making a mix cd utilizing every single cover version of "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" available.

2. Getting my hair cut like David Cassidy's.

3. Trying to hang up posters without bringing any tape.

Oh! The Horror!

In Praise of Friends

Can I talk about Giaco for a second? And Kati?

I have been friends with Giaco since my senior and his junior year of college when we were made co-editors of a school-based publication that never materialized due to lack of interest (in both contributors and readership). It was then we realized that we had more in common than is normally required for friendship. We were both ambitious (but not within the limits of our college major), children of chefs, frustrated, excitable, and dare I say, talented? And despite how much in common he has with me, Giaco is also a kind, warm, friendly fellow. I don’t know if I can think of a happier or more welcoming person. I could not be more pleased to have him as a co-conspirator on the new show: Second Stories.

I haven’t known Kati as well or as for as long, but I am equally confident in her excellence. The first time I met her was at the second reading, wherein she crowned Blaise himself, no questions asked. Since then, she has come to shows, made some great jokes (complete with Hall and Oates references), come with us to see Morrissey, and made the poster for the new show.


Did I mention that these guys own the world’s most handsome dog?

It is a privilege to have such talented, wonderful people as friends. Especially when they occasionally need a dogsitter.

New Show!

Show Friends

One of the many benefits of doing shows at least once a month are what I call "show friends." These are people that you have things in common with and see rather frequently, but have yet to crossover into actual socialized friendship. In a way, they're better than regular friends, because you don't have to put in any effort to see them, and since the time spent with them involves working toward a common goal, you respect them in a way you don't usually consider with regular friends.

Some of my favorite show friends are Meg Faverau and Rob Baniewicz, who perform comedy as Meg and Rob. A while back, I ventured to the Northeast to help them out on a video. I think it turned out pretty well.


Sweepstakes from Meg & Rob on Vimeo.

Sorry, Ringo

You must be wondering where that radio broadcast is, and what I'm calling my new show, and if I've reverted to some strange preschool state that includes a lot of Shining Time Station. Well, I don't have it yet, I've procrastinated that one off for another time, and no, I promise.

But, I have written one of the most controversial articles on Space Junk yet.

You can read it here.

Mr. Conductor

A couple of friends of mine are going to help me make a point:




If you do enough drugs in your youth, you will become a children's entertainer in later life.

The Name Game

As I have probably told many of you already, after the last Toiling in Obscurity (of which one can find more pictures here) Erin the bartender offered me the opportunity to do a monthly show, starting on May 12.




I have enlisted Giaco’s help so that I do not go completely insane from my scheduling disease. We already have a couple of readers and theme (stories from the service industry*) for the first show – you see, it’s going to be more compact, more controlled, more conversational – but if you’d be interested in participating in this or future shows, you should get in touch with me. You should also help us name this thing, because right now, our best bets are:

Fresh Paper
and
Bildungsroman and Beer

What do you think?

*If you’re interested in reading or performing at the first show, get in touch with me by mid-April. I already have a few people on the list. The second show, which should be the second Tuesday in June, will be "Genre"-themed. While that one is Giaco’s baby, I will be happy to put the two of you in touch.

What I Have Learned

Some things are hard for me to admit:

1. that I need help
2. that I have parents who aren’t wolves
3. that I have been influenced by other humans

None, however, are more important for you to pay attention to than #3. (Especially ignore 1 and 2.) If there were ever a person who had an influence on my adult mind, it would be Sebastian Agudelo. I followed him through UArts Liberal Arts classes, thorough poetry and prose and cigarette breaks. He is the best teacher that ever taught me anything.

Sebastian, who so bravely and grumblingly did my reading last week, is doing another reading this week, on Friday, at Brickbat Books. You, reader, should go, and you should listen, and you should probably buy his book, because of all the people that ever taught me anything, only two of them have published books*. And even if you won't do it for me, or for Giaco, who will be handing out wine, I hear, do it because the world demands of you some participation, and listening is always the easiest option.


*Do you recall that I mentioned another person? It was Christian TeBordo, who has written a story collection (from which he read last weekend), that is available only through Paper Egg Books. You should also probably get that, because no one else has ever bent the English language to fit the culture as perfectly as he did when he wrote "Tupac-alypse."

Gratitude

Sebastian asked me on Friday night why I put together the reading series. My first answer was, "Because the only way I can get people to pay attention to me is to make them." It was a joke, but I meant it, too. After a year and five shows, each better than the next, I can only thank those involved for helping me scream louder and longer than ever.

Poster by Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum

The Pole vs. The Hole

Germaine Greer, whose most notable work, The Female Eunuch, argued that women are not aware of how much they are taught to hate themselves, has written an essay for The Guardian about how women aren’t as funny as men. Well, she says that women are "droll," but "men [are driven] to more and more outrageous and bizarre mental acrobatics, to stay ahead of the game and have the last laugh. The greater the pressure, the faster the firing of neurons in the male brain." And she also says, “Women famously cannot learn jokes.”

Hey, Germaine, why don’t you read between your own lines: "When they are not running themselves down, women comedians are often astonishingly vicious towards other women."

Portrait of an Economy

Blogger/Author Rebecca Woolf started a blog collecting recession stories called Portraits of an Economy. You can see my entry here.

Little Victories

I'm not a comedian. That hasn't stopped me from participating in comedy shows. On Friday, Corey Cohen graciously allowed me to try a new character at Steal This Show. She was a 38-year-old library Aide named Beverly.

I find the mark of a successful character performance is being confused for the character after the show. When I first started doing "Little Jaime" at Bedtime Stories, I was approached by a fellow and his lady friend. She thought I actually was 12, and was concerned that I was drinking a beer. If I recall, I showed her an ID to prove that I was an adult.

Friday night, after a performance which culminated in my hitting on, then spilling a drink on Corey, offering to make casseroles for the gentlemen of the audience, and yelling out a fake phone number while dressed like Lily Tomlin in 9 to 5, a man I had never seen before started hitting on me. When I told him that I wasn't actually 38, he left awkwardly.

Hopefully there won't be any confusion this Wednesday, February 18, when Blaise and I will be performing in Bedtime Stories (now at the Ric Rac) with the help of the lovely Meg Favreau.

Mark Your Calendars

This March marks the year anniversary of the Toiling in Obscurity readings. Organizing and performing in these things has been the most (only) satisfying part of my creative life in the past year. It is with great pleasure, present to you:

TOILING IN OBSCURITY V
Friday, March 13th
7pm at The Dive

with Poetry from:
Sebastian Aguedelo
and
Giaco Furino

Fiction by:
Jaime Fountaine,
Christian Tebordo,
Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum,
and
Tabitha Vidaurri

and Music from:
Tim TeBordo

Radio Philadelphia

This past Saturday, The Sixth Borough, Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum, and I performed "Something's Afoot in Southwark" -- an original radioplay that Jeremy and I wrote together -- for the Nexus Radio Project.

In addition, there were a few readings, a Sixth Borough performance, and in order to fill ten minutes that had been allotted for a no-show, an interview with "Angus MacAllister" a prop-comic, voiced by my brother.

Jeremy took some great pictures of the afternoon (and wrote a charming recap of the day) that you can see here.

Reminders and Remainders

I've been busy. And not just because I've spent a lot of time looking up Partridge Family videos on YouTube.

As you know, Something's Afoot in Southwark, the radioplay I'm co-writing with Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum, premieres this Saturday. We will be presenting it, along with several fiction and poetry readings, and a radio show by The Sixth Borough, between 12 and 3 pm, on Nexus Radio 1650 AM.

In addition to all that, I've spent the last week or so writing about fictional music and Wild in the Streets on Space Junk.

I've got more up my sleeve, but it's a secret for now.

More or Less

Though I’ve been busy with “Something’s A-Foot in Southwark”, I’ve managed to keep pace with Tabitha over at Space Junk for Space Punks. You should check both of them out!

As a reward for actually reading the above sentences, here is a clip of Vincent Price from The Muppet Show:

Announcing

Café Etiquette

As with most young laptop owners living in an urban environment, I frequent coffee shops. I also work in one. These factors, in conjunction with the fact that I’m a curmudgeon, have led me to develop a serious sense of manners about the whole business.

On Tipping:

If you just order a regular coffee, you aren’t exactly required to tip. However, after a refill, or if you plan on sticking around the café for a while, you should most definitely throw a dollar into the jar.

If you require a lot of special accoutrements (split shot, half-caf mocha, light on the chocolate, heavy on foam, for example) or require the barista to explain more than two drinks to you, you should tip.

If you get a very small amount of change back from your order (less than a quarter) leave it in the tip jar. It doesn’t dent your pocket, but it can really add up for the baristas.

On Talking:

Cafés are highly social places, but people are often trying to accomplish things. If everyone in the room can follow your conversation, you need to switch to an inside voice. This is especially true if you tend to repeat the same conversation to different people, are talking about your sex life or failed relationships, discussing your “art,” or telling your friend the problems with the city in which you both reside.

If you receive a phone call – try to go outside to answer it. If it’s a simple, “Yes, I’m at the coffee shop,” then keep it quiet. No one wants to hear you spend the next twenty minutes telling your friend about what you did last night – especially if you’ve already told this story to someone else in the room.

On The Local Weirdoes:

There are going to be some freaks out there. By simple observation, you can usually determine if these people are best ignored (ex. Drunk Elvis Impersonator), or are okay to interact with (ex. Fellow smoking a pipe and reading US Weekly in a Ninja Turtles sweatshirt) if it becomes necessary. Integrating yourself with the weirdoes on a limited basis is beneficial for all parties involved. It’s good to have them on your side.

On Tables:

Try to take up as little space as is necessary for your comfort. This is only fair. In the event of a full house, either move on or wait a minute. Table sharing is better done outside, or with people who you recognize by sight. If someone asks to share your table, you’re probably stuck – but you don’t actually have to talk to them. Unless you live in a romantic comedy, asking a really attractive person who happens to be reading a book you love to share their table will not result in a love affair. It will just make you look like a creep.

On Baristas:

Your barista probably fits into one of several categories: world weary, attractively haggard gentleman, very attractive, possibly dumb fellow, friendly and adorable lady, really attractive, but bitchy lady, or seriously weird person. Part of their job is to give you something that you want. This is not the first step into a beautiful relationship; it’s a job requirement. Instead of projecting your blank lust upon them, be friendly, tip well, and back off. If they want to interact with you, they will do it. Think of baristas like small woodland creatures – adorable, vicious if disturbed, but ultimately harmless.

(In addition to complaining, I've also had a few things to say over at Space Junk for Space Punks.)