Diversion tactics

Last night, I finished a self-imposed dare, if I could write 30,000 words for a new novel in 30 days. I don't know what triggered the mad race for words. I have suspects: my lagging on my earlier novel, a general feeling of not being able to write on command, a growing inertia of creativity. I needed something new, something I didn't have a lot invested in. I've been working on the first novel, the serious one, for almost two years on and off. At that point, it becomes a Byzantine maze, growing darker and more muddled every time you turn a cold, marble corner until you feel the walls pitilessly closing in on you.

About six weeks ago, I broke out of my low-grade novel terror with an idea that seemingly sprung out of my head, Athena-style, with my poet friend Cori. Never felt an experience like that before, everything rushing out as I messaged her. Imagine a soothing electrical shock wrapped in an orgasm tortilla and it begins to cover it. I remember writing "electric blue Jesus in my veins" to her as I typed down details, history, primary conflicts, and within an hour I had the basic concept of the character. Within 24 hours, still peaking on the creative dosage in my veins, I had the feel of the novel, as well as solid, evolving plot.

I put the serious novel, which loomed over me like a buzzard, off to the side and decided to see if I could hold my own mini-NaNoWriMo, but set the goal for 30,000 words, instead of 50,000. 30 days in April, 1,000 words a day. No outline, but a gist of the course. I found I need some kind of deadline in order to produce something, even if I don't know just what I'm doing. It's a sense that "You need to get this done by X." All in all, it was exciting in that rollercoaster-terrifying way to see what bubbled up in the primordial ooze. I reckon I could most of it, and pieces will need to be altered or swapped around for consistency. I embarrassingly forgot the name of the lead character's boyfriend several times, inventing a new one as I went. Oh, at least there'll be some fun in the rewrite.

So, I'm writing again, albeit on a different project. I'm taking the next few days to scan what I've written, acknowledging that it's time to figure out how to break all this down by chapter. I'm a bit mushy on the middle, but then that's the biggest challenge for writers (and why it's called a "mushy middle"). At the same time, the first novel is calling me again. With my juices going, I feel like I can return to the bigger maze I built and hammer that thing into shape and get it to my former writing teacher to review. I've blown off an informal deadline already, and I would like to get it to her before August at the latest. Hrm. I sense another deadline in the making.

Short notes

1) Apparently, Nintendo chose "Wii" as its new name because "Revolution" is unpronounceable in Japan. Begs the questions: Why did a Japanese-based company go with "Revolution" for so long then. How did they talk about it during board meanings? How did the techs in the Japanese labs confer with each other on the project? How did marketing discuss it? The code-name "Revolution" has been circulating for more than a year. Nintendo president Satoru Iwata has called it by name in speeches. Being Japanese, I reckon he found a proper word for it. And in the year or so since Revolution has been floating around, I can't recall seeing gaming news from Japan being stridently against the name.

So, what gives? Well, for starters, the name "Wii" won't. The name is final, according to IGN.

Favorite snippet

IGN Wii: Why announce the final name now and not at E3 2006?

Perrin Kaplan (Nintendo of America's VP of corporate affairs): Why are we doing it now? Well, let me just say that if you look at how much time people have spent online talking about it today and paying attention to it today, it really, I think, required that kind of attention and seeping in for people to let it settle a little bit. It would be really, really easy to lose that at the show. Also, I think it's important for us to go into the show with people knowing what we're talking about.

In shorter words: Nintendo knew that if they dropped "Wii" as the name at E3, the gamers and journalists would have rushed the stage and tore apart Iwata, Kaplan and anyone else in the way. Now, they have a couple weeks to have it dissipate in the public sphere before E3, and I'm guessing based on the reaction, Nintendo's hoping something bigger comes along to distract the public from this botching of nomenclature: Namely, the US nuking Iran.

2) I got myself a copy of Massive Attack's "False Flags" last night, which is available as an extra song on the "Live with Me" CD single and on Disc 2 of the band's new "Collected" greatest hits package. I have to admit that I was less than legal in getting my copy of "False Flags." Still, I got it and listened to it, if iTunes can be believed, about a dozen times. It's a chilling, brilliant, angry little song and I highly recommend it.

Lyrics here

Wii are not amused.

Seriously, Nintendo. What the hell is wrong with you? You had a winner with "Revolution" as the name of your next console. It does revolutionary things, namely in the controller with its gyroscope sensor and ability to track itself in three-dimensional space. Hell, the Madden game EA announced earlier today was damn revolutionary, what with the ability to use the controller as a proxy football. Sports games are a turn-off for me, but if I could pretend I'm the quarterback with moving around the living room floor and simulating a 50-yard bomb, I'm there on release day.

And then there's the whole Virtual Console aspect, where gamers can purchase from a 20-year catalog of Nintendo games, titles that revived an near-dead industry in the 80s. Youngin's will get the chance to play classics from the 8-bit era all the way up to today. Imagine a games version of Apple's Music Store and you get the idea. Feel like playing an old Zelda title? Go online, drop a couple bucks and it'll be downloaded to you. No more plugging in old consoles for those classic titles. It's all under one sleek, sexy, Applerotic hood. Add to this one more super secret feature that N was going to reveal at the upcoming E3 event in Los Angeles, and Nintendo, you mad-crazy darling, you looked ready to kick serious butt in the next-gen console war, showing the graphic addicts at Sony and Microsoft how gaming should be done. Again.

But no. That was too easy. That was too simple. Instead, you decide that Revolution wasn't expressive enough, didn't fit the bill. So, you came up with..

Wii.

Wii? As in We?

That's not a name, it's what you have left in your Scrabble rack after a boring turn. It's not even a word. It's the crude approximation of a word that already exists. It's not unique enough to be a Google or an iPod. It's not evocative enough to be a Lush or a Black Phoenix or even a Toys in Babeland. It's not fun to say like Yahoo or Mini Cooper. And it's not exotic like Revolution. Instead of giving their next console a number, like an awful, cookie-cutter Hollywood sequel, Nintendo's Revolution would be swirling, exciting event where gamers could plunk their money down and feel like "Yeah, this is different. This is the future."

It's so bad that I almost feel bad for Nintendo's PR team at this moment. Their jobs can't be easy ones, what with gaming message boards in an uproar over this. Maybe they knew that this was a terrible name, and so with a couple days head start they went to their meme workshops and built the best face possible.

Consider Pierre Kaplan, Vice President of Marketing and Corporate Affairs for Nintendo of America. In an interview today with CNN Money, she opts for a "learning curve" type of defense.

"I think people have to look back and let it settle in," she said. "I'm sure people felt the same way when Google was named – or the iPod. Napster. Yahoo. There's a whole host of unusual names that have become a part of everyday conversation and I think they're viewed now as unique."

Um, lady, that's not the point. You had a perfect name to start with. You talked about Revolution as "Revolution" for a year before Wii. We liked Revolution a lot because it fit. It'd be like Lucas going "you know Star Wars doesn't convey the film. I'll name it Wisdom Celestial Adventure. Yeah, that'll work." No, it'd be a disaster, and if you have go about and explain what "Wii" means then it's not a great name. iPod works because its unexplainable. Google? It just is. It's a curiosity, but it draws people in. Plus, Google sounds like giggle. It's fun to say. It makes you smile, but everyone knows it, uses it, loves it. Wii? That sounds like what you leave in the urinal.

It's a terrible name, and I hope that some force here in the states gets a petition together to have Nintendo of America change the American version of the product. It's not uncommon for products to have difference names in different markets around the world. Here, it makes sense. Bring back Revolution, Nintendo, or you might find yourself on the business end of one.

Attacked Massively

Last night, I got to cross one of my life's goals off that invisible to-do list. After an eight-year absence, trip-hop pioneers Massive Attack came back to America, came to Seattle, came to remind everyone of their elegant urban aural sculptures that court nightmares and love, riding techno and reggae backbones like it was no big deal.

I never thought I'd see MA in the states. Delays, side projects, long departures from the studios, they all kept the Bristol band from touring beyond European confines. The closest I got was my iPod crammed with everything the band ever did. To me, they were a studio entity, generating lusty shadows and haunting listeners with packs of animals that fed on alternative waves of dread or mad love. To have them on a stage, crafting their lush orchestrations, I wasn't sure it was possible.

My wife and I made it in to The Paramount and huddled on the main floor, about five layers of humanity away from the stage barrier, close enough to see the whites of the singers' eyes, close to enough to worry about performers sweating on us. We waited through an awkward hour of a guest DJ, spinning teched-out reggae tracks to a crowd who operated on the same Borg channel: It's been eight years. Get off the stage. One long hour passed, and the DJ bowed in thanks to relieved applause. His kit was broken down, and MA's stage-set (two drum kits, one bass, one guitar, five mikes upfront lined up like chess pawns) were groomed by roadies. We waited, we cat-called, we hollered.

Darkness. And then the first notes of "False Flags" hit the air. The wall of lights from the back of the stage shimmered as flags waving in electronic breezes. Lush and moody, intentional intense without posing. It was my iPod exploding and wrapping around me in light and sonic assault. I fell back to 1992, when I first heard "Unfinished Sympathy" while waking up on Houston morning. MA stepped forward out of the darkness, bringing their own audio humidity with them, filling the theater with something dark and haunting, powerful, wonderful. Yeah, this was it.

A good show all around, but it was plagued by mic problems from the start. The singers, five in total (including reggae legend Horace Andy and Cocteau Twins goddess Elizabeth Fraser), all looked off their game, awkward from either technical problems or from trying to shake the rust off their haunches after nearly three years of not being Massive Attack. The band itself was tight, fierce but coordinated, capable of making themselves impressively loud on showstoppers like "Safe from Harm" and "Group Four." I imagine once they get a couple more live shows down, they'll be fantastic. Seattle was the first show of its world tour, and I can only think that this was that one awkward show where all the kinks come out, a stumble, a trip, then a soaring. Rumor has it they'll be back through the states (they are only making three American stops this time around) in September. I don't know if I'm going again. I'm awestruck that I this close to MA. I was within 10 yards of the people behind "Unfinished Sympathy," "Teardrop" and "Future Proof." Flaws aside, drunk pushy twits forgotten, it was amazing, even a little life affirming as Fraser whispered the opening lines of "Teardrop" to a main floor crowd who sung along with tears and smiles.

One more thing, Massive Attack is touring pretty much for themselves at this point. There's a new album due out next year, but nothing was revealed from it last night. MA has a greatest hits album, which just hit stores. Wonderful, except I'd wager the crowd in attendance had everything the band ever did. Which leaves the realization that MA came out late night to be themselves, and we were there to celebrate, to cheer, to say thank you in the ways fans do, but raised hands (or lit cellphones) in praise. I got to hear "Teardrop" from Fraser's own lips. Heaven.

82

Today is the 82nd month that my lovely wife and I have been married, and since Blogger is finally acting properly, I can now step up and let my wonderful, kind, sexy, smart, and infinitely patient wife that I'm lucky to have found her. I know this might come out wrong, but with all the work we have done behind-the-scenes in regard to our wills and life insurance, I got a little more mature and childish at the same time with both roads leading to a newfound love for my one and only. When you write a will and set up a life insurance policy, it's a step where you say, "That's it. I'm ready to die. My spouse will be taken care of. That's all that matters." After my wife did her will, I dropped into a fear state, imagining her gone and me puttering around in my house living half of a life. After my funk, I went through a small renaissance, understanding how much I love her, how much she changed my life. It's strange that with six billion people roaming around how just one can affect you so deeply.

We are both in our early 30s, and barring something catastrophic, we'll be alive for a long time. We won't need to worry about who has to bury whom, and what to do with all the belongings that no longer have an owner. We can go about our modern lives, being who we are and enjoying ourselves, eventually retreating back along that dissonant line of thinking we will be around forever and all major worries are in some gray distant horizon. For me, there came a definite liberation when I signed my will. I don't need to worry. Everything will be taken care of. I kept it modest; I don't think I could legally get Radiohead to play at my memorial service if I just wrote it in the document. But the cats will have owners if we both die. My wife's jewelry will find a home. A couple of charities will be getting post-mortem donations. Writing a will gives you a feeling that you can still be a force for good, even if you aren't around. I reckon I'm rationalizing, but it makes death seem not that bad.

A bit of trivia: Microsoft Word for Mac has a Will template.

So, today my wife and I will have our little monthly celebration, rest assured that we're a little older and far too responsible, but we are still, always, immutably, in love.

I love you. Happy 82 months.