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I DID IT! I DID IT! I FUCKING DID IT!!

At the stroke of midnight, on December 27, 1997, I finished the manuscript. Ten minutes later, I found myself in the kitchen of my North Hollywood apartment, mixing an Absolut Screwdriver with WAY too much vodka. You'd think that after my mad dash to the finish line (eleven-hour work days on both Christmas and the 26th) I'd be literally passing out from mental exhaustion, but no--I stayed up until 5:30 AM on that magic night. For one reason or another, I couldn't sleep.

Not to worry--you haven't clicked on the wrong link. This still is Act 27, Part 3--you know, the one where I said that there would be sound files, and caricatures, and pictures, and all sorts of other good stuff--but I figured that it would be stupid not to talk about this HUGE FUCKING THING that I just accomplished. The main reason that I wanted to mention it was so that I could thank you--yes, each and every one of you--for all of the support and random wonderful stuff you've sent along via the internet over the past year. Believe me, there were times when I was thinking to myself, "What the fuck have I gotten myself into? I am NEVER going to finish this!" All along the way, often at times when I needed it the most, I received an e-mail (against my ill-conceived wishes for total radio silence) that acted much like a water bottle given from a spectator to a runner in mid-marathon. I can only attempt to say thanks--my true sentiments cannot be put into words.

What happens now with "Eleven Is A Magic Number" is still unclear. First I have to get myself a literary agent; you can't just go ahead and send your work into a publisher's office (can you imagine an editor at a major publishing house receive my ten-feet-high, 12,000-page unsolicited manuscript--he'd laugh heartily as he tossed it into the "round file"). I have some interest at this point, but nothing major or even remotely concrete. If I manage to hornswaggle some agent into thinking that he/she could maybe make some money off of it, then the beast will be shopped to publishers and whatnot. As we speak, "Eleven" is being read over by my "writer's group", which right now consists of Supreme Literary Confidante Martha C. Lawrence, Poison Pentium Editor Cami Slotkin, Bass Player Magazine Contributing Editor Thomas Wictor, Moosenet CEO Scott Chatfield, LOB Executive Producer Robert Beller, and Professional Boy Wonder Michael Keneally. You see, even though I've been through five sets of revisions, after a while your own eyes no longer serve you well. Little typos and bad text-cut-and-paste jobs are subconsciously ignored; the mind and eyes play tricks on you. You know what it's supposed to read like, and therefore, you make it that way, even if what the page really says is "Jonny and Maryt went to with the store t get some groceries.' Yeah, I'm exaggerating a little bit, but not much. It's a huge time saver, not to mention a gigantic privilege, to have such intelligent and insightful folks on my side at this crucial juncture. More ridiculous thanks are due to all involved.

Here are a couple of things I'm not going to do with it. One: publish an excerpt up on the web. I know that this must be annoying by now, me talking about it endlessly and not even hinting as to what my book is about, but it must be so. It's not like music--context is EVERYTHING here, and to throw up a random sampling just to do it would be counterproductive to the reading experience in the long run. Plus, several things might still be changed, so it's all a big no go on that. Two: make copies available over the internet. Trust me, it's not like I'm being bombarded by folks who want to send me money to get their hands on "Eleven", but I have been asked, and my answer must remain "no". I want to exhaust every possible option in real-world publishing before turning to some kind of guerrilla operation. Even if it means that I have to read 100 rejection letters (a good possibility, from what I've been told of the book business), it's still the route I'm committed to taking. I want to see this thing in fucking hardcover.

In sum, it's an intensely personal piece of work, and I want to be sure it goes through every available channel of quality control before it gets out in the open. One of the more interesting conversations I've had in the past week was with Mr. Keneally, on the topic of The Creative Process. We mostly talked about how difficult, yet ultimately rewarding it is to labor on something created of your own mind, whether it be music, or writing, or even table-building. The medium matters little. Everyone has to go through the same thing: "Is this any good? What am I really trying to say here? What will such-and-such think if I do this? Is there even a remote chance of people buying this product? Is it really ready to be released into the world, or does it need another month of work?" I was lucky to have been able to discuss these issues with someone for whom The Creative Process is such a joyful and, to all of our benefits, productive experience.

Anyway, enough blabbering. If the Gods smile upon me, then one day you'll be able to wake up, make a cup of coffee, and read about the real reason why Eleven Is A Magic Number. Until then, I can only offer you my gratitude.

Wait a minute--I do have more to offer you. Shall we start with the caricatures? Sure, why not. From the Great White North, we have Kimberley Whitchurch, artist and costumer-to-the-stars (just last month she found herself peeling wet clothes off of Dolph Lundgren during a movie shoot in Toronto--there's no business like show business). As you may have noticed over at Sluggo!-rama, the girl can write as well. But her drawings are what really tickled my fancy, as you can see here. First off, Kimberley (obviously a student of LOB history) gives us her take on a terribly tasteless picture from Act 9 in what she calls "The Lady In Red".

I've been meaning to get to this next thing for months now. I can't remember exactly when, but sometime between September and November, a Keneally freakazoid named Ron Spiegelhalter sent me a bunch of MK/BFD sound files which I promptly installed into my Windows 95 environment. Oh, the joy I felt when, upon hearing my computer start up, I would hear the opening organ chords of Disc 2 of "Half Alive In Hollywood". Or when a SpellCheck was finished, a bit of "'Cause Of Breakfast" would pump out of my monitor's speakers. Now, thanks to Ron (who I know is just itching to atone for the sins of the guy from his listening ROOM--you know, the one who started the brawl over at Sluggo!-rama), you too can enjoy these tiny bits of Dolphindom. CEO Chatfield has shoved them all over at Mike's Sights And Sounds. Note: these are all pre-Sluggo sounds. Anyone who's willing to construct a VERY SHORT Sluggo soundfile (under 100K, under two seconds if possible) may send it to me. Just ask me first, and then we'll see if I can't have it added to the page. As for you, Ron, thanks for your patience in waiting for these little chunks of heaven to hit the web.

And now, onto the pictures.

This is the face I often wear while I'm at work, trying to be Mr. Happy Service Boy at SWR. An example: "Hello, this is Bryan--can I help you? OK...your amp...your kid did what?...into the microwave...two minutes...flames shooting out the sides...house burned down...no, sir, I don't believe that's covered under the warranty. You...yes, I know you're upset...well, I don't want to sound like...yes, of course you can speak to the general manager."

Back in time to The Alternate Reality, mid-December, 1996, Detroit, MI. BFD's Man In Detroit, Scott Baker, took some great pictures, but I got them way too late to include them in Act 21. These two shots deserve to be seen, and so here they are. First, Toss, Phil Bynoe and I act like the men that we are.

Then, a rare group shot of the following folks (left to right): Mike Mangini, Roger Bell, Rich Pike, Jesse Jackson, Scott's (now ex) girlfriend, Keneally, Steve Vai and Toss Panos. By the way, I spent my New Year's Eve with both Roger Bell and Rich Pike (not to mention Lisa Valentine [Anti-cipa-tion party queen and Sausage Factory star], Cami Slotkin, and Kim Salt [red-dress-maker]). What a wonderful time was had by all. Especially me--I may not have been at the Studio City Bar And Grill (it closed until further notice on the 20th of December for tax-related reasons--how weird is that?), but I was loaded, and I had a huge fucking hangover on New Year's Day to show for it. Just so you know.

Same locale. The CEO loves Martha, I love the CEO's Hot Wife Karen, but nobody loves Mikey.

Well, that about does it for now. You'll have to forgive me, but I'm looking forward to spending a little less time staring at my monitor in the coming weeks. But soon enough, my literary batteries will be re-charged, and the LOB will return to its usual wordy form. In the meantime, be sure to keep checking The Moose for Keneally news and updates, especially concerning the next BFD show--February 11, at The Roxy in Los Angeles. We may need your support for this one.

Until then, here's a little tidbit of info for you to chew on. Did you know that, in 1998, there will be THREE Friday The 13th's? Pretty weird. Did you also know how often this unusual calendar event occurs? That's right--every eleven years. Just a thought.

Yours from Chatfield Manor,

The Bassboy Number Sixty-Nine

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