Last night I launched a crowdfunding effort to bring to life a quarterly gaming magazine called Yggdrasil. I am filled with excitement, and a bit of dread. Excited because I love creating things and sharing those things with others. Dread because of the vulnerability you expose to others when you share your self. So, par of the course for every creative person that I have ever met.
As often happens around the holidays, my kids get the LOTR Fever. This is a legitimate diagnosis that stems from our marathon watching of Peter Jackson’s Extended Edition Lord of the Rings movies on New Years Day. It leads to a sudden uptick on related board games, audiobook listens, and this year, a request to play D&D.
Two weekends ago, a friend of mine and I decided to finally take Journey into Middle Earth for a spin. He isn’t into table top games, but is willing to give it a go. I figured that it could be a gateway drug into other games, as it combines the familiar (it is run with an app) and the unfamiliar to him (table top rpg-like constructs). We had fun, but if I had to do it all over again, I would have picked something else.
Magazines are special to me. Growing up, we got Highlights, with all the fun little puzzles and short stories. As I got older, I found myself getting baseball rags, computer magazines, and the venerable Nintendo Power, where I got to read about games I would never own and daydream. Dragon Magazine was my gateway drug into role playing games. And Realms of Fantasy introduced me to Neil Gaiman in a new way.
I was flipping through IG this morning as I waited for the last of my kids to get their butt off to school and came across this edit of David Fincher at work. Talking through scenes on a shoot, framing headspace for actors, and shutting down things that don’t meet his vision for the moment. You don’t have to be a fan of Fincher’s work (I am) to appreciate seeing someone’s process, as I think it gives us a glimpse of that person in the raw.
Last night on the treadmill I watched The Gray Man on Netflix. Before I put it on, I was vaguely aware that it was a Russo Brothers joint and that it cost a ton of money to make. I also recalled reviews of it being ho hum in nature, so wasn’t expecting much. It did not disappoint in that regard.
Being an amateur historian of sorts means I read a lot about people long dead and put my every day into the context of the things I have researched. It can be an exhausting way to look at the world, but at this age I think I have reached the point of no return. I am just obsessed with the tiny details, which of course got me thinking about all the garbage we generate and what that means to the future.
I don’t know what I was expecting when we decided to have kids all those years ago. The idyllic parts of my childhood unfolding before my eyes in little half clones? A social science experiment to explore the foundations of humanity? A series of proteges to mold into my image? Whatever it was, it was probably stupid and naive, cause this shit is hard.
I decided for my 46 circuit of the planet, I am going to try something a little new. I get my kids out the door to school every morning, and I often find myself spending an hour drinking coffee and either depressing myself with the news or dulling myself with Instagram and Reddit for an hour. It is an incredibly stupid way to spend that morning time, so I decided last night I’m just going to empty my brain each morning with whatever is there, no matter how inane or unpolished it may be.