There Will Be Words

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On the second Tuesday of every month authors gather at 7PM at Urban ReThink, (625 East Central Boulevard), for a literary prose throw down called There Will Be Words. The event is hosted by J. Bradley and judged by three unsuspecting audience members picked at random. Most of the people who pack the audience for There will be Words are authors who are themselves competing. It is an event that I am now addicted to, since listening to stories told live seems far more interesting to me than watching reruns on TV or watching movies where computer effects are the star attraction.

On this evening, I sketched James Fleming,  who read a highly entertaining and funny story called, God Damn Bears. It was an excerpt from a memoir called Too Much Sunshine, Memories of a Boyhood in the Age of Regan. You should listen, it really is hilarious. Warning however, it wasn’t very politically correct. It is a strange story in which fear becomes legend in a small rural town. Bears, get a bad wrap.

Authors spared head to head in heated literary heats until at the end of the evening, a victor was announced. I didn’t really follow the scoring, anyone who listens in, wins. As the light outside faded the stories gained heft and weight. If I remember right, J. Bradley won that night. I don’t see the point in judging. It is simply enough to expose the creative culture that continually bubbles to the surface here in Orlando.

Tasty Tuesday Shut Down by Police

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On June 19th, Mark Baratelli, of The Daily City, gave me a tip that a food truck event in the Milk District was being shut down by police. He felt that all the proprietors in the neighborhood were behind the event since it brought in a crowd. Apparently a business in the neighborhood did complain and there were reports that Code Enforcement was there. In Miami, food truck corals draw huge crowds to the trendy gallery district. I immediately drove over to see what was going on. As I approached the Milk District, I noticed a food truck driving away. The event was called Tasty Tuesdays and involved food trucks in a parking lot at the corner of Robinson and Graham. There was a small crowd of 20 to 30 people milling about. Some people were finishing off plates of food. Two police cars were parked in the middle of the road blocking traffic. Officers stood in the road with their arms crossed waiting for the food trucks to pack up and leave. Melissa’s Chicken and Waffles food truck closed up and pulled out of the parking lot as I sketched. A camera man from Fox 35 News started shooting video.

Saigon Sizzle on the left side of my sketch packed away a table and supplies and then backed out of the lot. I asked  the guy who was helping guide the driver why they had to leave. “The police say we are blocking traffic.” he said. “We assumed the organizer had all the right permits, but I guess not.” Slowly the crowd disappeared as the sun set behind the T.G. Lee’s Milk towers. A mosquito kept tickling my left elbow. I rushed to finish the sketch before I lost all my light. The Flattery, a black food truck was parked on the sidewalk and was the last to leave.

The Daily City contacted Commisioner Patti Sheehan and this is what she had to say. “City
staff is working with Tommy to try and get the issues resolved.  There
was a complaint from a nearby business.  I was aware of parking
concerns, and I had spoken to OPD about it, but I was unaware of the
code provision that does not allow sales from the city right-of-way. 
The trucks were warned, but a few decided to pay the fine and continue
selling. I would
rather work this out so that all of the codes are understood and
followed, and the event can continue. I do not think this is a bad omen
for food trucks in general, just a hiccup with a group trying to
promote an event that needs to be a little more familiar with our
rules.” Read the rest here…

Tasty Tuesdays in The Milk District had this to say on Facebook, “One
of the businesses on the street complained one too many times. Worst
case scenario, next week the trucks will be in the Spacebar/Sandwich
Bar, Etoile Boutique/Milk Bar, and Doggy Day Care parking lots. Best
case scenario, we’re back on the street – we will keep you all updated.
Small businesses for the win!”

Yum! Yum!  I drove home and had a hot dog for dinner. I was starving.

Hindu Cowboys

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On the second Friday of every month there is Culture and Cocktails at the Maitland Art Center. In May, the band was the Hindu Cowboys. I had seen this band once before at a Friends of the Philharmonic, Jeans and Jewels fundraiser. This was my first opportunity to sketch them. Terry planned to join me, but she was late, so I started sketching even as band members set up speakers and equipment. They played an assortment of originals and covers. My wife, Terry Thorspecken, arrived and spread open a blanket on the grass beside me. I was working in one of the larger Stillman & Birn sketchbooks, so it took a bit more time to splash down color washes. I managed to finish by the time the band finished their first set.

Terry wasn’t in the mood to see any art, so I walked into the Maitland Art Center on my own. On display was student work all of which was of cropped in forced perspectives of home exteriors. The work was painterly and bold. Much of it was quite impressive so the teacher must have had a strong and definite premise. I then went across the street to the Mayan courtyard where there was a poetry reading. The lit page illuminated the poets face from below. Folding chairs were arranged in the courtyard and an audience of perhaps 20 people listened intently. The poet read about the irony of being called a “domestic partner”.

The Hindu Cowboys began to play again. Terry was gone. I listened to several songs and then decided to leave.

Wine, Women and Shoes

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It was my wife Terry’s birthday. Thanks to Maria Diestro, I got two press passes to Wine, Women and Shoes since Terry adores a good pair of high heels.  What better birthday could there be than spending an afternoon sipping wine and shopping for shoes?  The woman at the reception table wished Terry a happy birthday.  That was an unexpected sweet gesture.  Maria must have made a note on the list. The event was a fundraiser for Second Harvest Food Bank held at the Rosen Shingle Creek Hotel. We arrived a bit early and agreed that I should get my sketch done first. I decided to focus on this Parisian style ottoman that had been set up. There were very few places to sit so I figured it would be a popular spot for women to rest their legs after standing in high heels. Besides myself there were only a few other men in the room. “Shoe Guys” held shoes on platters and they walked the room showing off the wares.

Vintners showcased samples of their wines and there were food stations. I never found time to try any of the food since I was sketching. One of the “Shoe Guys” turned out to be Matt McGrath a friend who often produces Play the Moment productions. That must have been a fun gig, being a male Vanna White for hundreds of women. I was glad Terry had someone to talk to while I worked. She purchased a pair of shoes that she adored. I decided the sketch was done when the runway fashion show began. Terry saved me a seat. A woman seated in front of us said to Terry, “You’re so lucky your husband joins you at this type of event.” I sipped my white wine.

It was an afternoon of Fashion and Compassion. Second Harvest Food Bank provides access to food and other grocery products in order to meet the needs of hungry families in six Central Florida Counties. They promote and support the development of partner agencies’ ability to fulfill their missions.  They mobilize leaders and communities by bringing visibility to the invisible problem of hunger and poverty, and they develop more holistic and county-specific solutions to hunger in Central Florida. Bidding was fierce during the auction. All of the proceeds  from Wine, Women & Shoes benefited Second Harvest Food Bank. Before we left, we sat in the photo booth.

Pink Hair

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Denna Beena and Travis Fillmen had Denna’s sister and her husband over to meet folks before the wedding for an evening barbecue, and screening at their place. When Travis started up the grill, the flames leaped up and then the thick billowing smoke followed guests.

After eating, my wife Terry, decided she wanted a pink streak in her hair. Denna always has a supply of pink die, so they went up to the kitchen for the procedure. It only took five minutes so I didn’t catch Terry. Another girl decided she wanted streaks in her long blond hair and I managed to catch her. Terry’s hair is a dark brown now and the pink was barely detectable.  That was actually good since she works in a fairly conservative business.

 Denna and Travis have two cats and they set up an aerial boardwalk for the cats up in the rafters. The boardwalk was designed like one of the zip line aerial obstacles at ZOOm Air Adventures at the Sanford Zoo. Their black cat watched the hair dye operation from on top of the cabinets.

A large TV was rolled out of the garage onto the side lawn for the outdoor matinee screening of The Muppet Movie. Once it was dark a second darker film was put in, Tucker & Dale vs. Evil. Terry had no interest in that movie so she drove home and I stayed to watch. It was a very strange, sick film about two hicks on vacation who find themselves in situations where college kids die in violent bloody ways by accident. Tucker and Dale though innocent, always end up looking like psycho killers. It was shocking and funny. Everyone sat in their lawn chairs screaming and laughing.

Kevin Hing’s 50th Birthday

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50 years is a major milestone and cause for celebration. Kevin  Hing had me do a sketch of him and his dad at the traditional Irish music session at Claddagh Irish Pub (4308 Curry Ford Road). Since I needed to scan the sketch before I gave it to him, he suggested I drive out for his 50th birthday celebration in Clearwater which is just south of Tampa. This was a chance to see how my Toyota Prius performed on a longer road trip.  This was a chance to stretch out her legs on the open road. I drove for an hour or so in the quiet cabin towards the setting sun. A draw bridge raised leaving me waiting for some time to get on the island.

The home was right on the Inter coastal waterway. There was a very diverse crowd. There were conservative politicians out by the pool and plenty of musicians mingling in the kitchen. Vicki Gish and Scott Vocca thanked me for the print I had given them. They had it framed and it went on the wall for the first time that morning. I arrived a bit late because of the drive, but my timing was perfect because the food had just been put out. There was plenty of BBQ and I loaded my plate. I got a soda from outside, but when the Irish music started, I switched to the thick rich Guinness beer. Kevin thanked everyone for coming. He was happy to share this island paradise with so many of his friends. He got a bit choked up  as he spoke about how lucky he was and people filled the silence with applause.

Irish musicians from all over the state of Florida came to Kevin’s birthday celebration.  Besides the Orlando Klan, there were musicians from Tampa and Clearwater. As they started to play, the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky burned orange. I sipped my Guinness between reels. As the evening grew darker so did my sketch. I’m half Irish on my mother’s side. Her grand parents came from Corr Ireland and the music seems to be in my blood. When my sketch was done, I packed up my supplies. I have never stayed to the bitter end of a traditional music session. They must play very late into the night. Kevin confided, “Sometimes it’s hard to tell if your playing really well or if you’ve just had too much to drink.” My sketch seemed to take form without effort, then again I might have had too much Guinness.

MayHem!

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Denne Beena tipped me off that zombies were going to be marching, well limping, down International Drive as part of Spooky Empire’s MayHem Show held At Wyndham Orlando Resort on May 25th through 27th. Zombies were going to gather at Pizzeria Uno at three in the afternoon. When I drove into the Uno parking lot, there wasn’t a zombie in sight. I almost left thinking I got the day wrong but then decided I might as well get a slice since I was there. I went inside and found myself surrounded by zombies.

Make up artists were hard at work turning civilians into zombies. Air brushes were used to make the skin look sick and pasty.  Eye sockets were darkened and open wounds sculpted to a festering perfection. I can’t quite figure out why so many women wanted to look battered and beaten with makeup accentuating their cleavage. I bravely didn’t avert my eyes. I had to get the facts, just the facts ma’am.

It was boiling hot outside. There wasn’t a shady spot in sight from which I could sketch the gathering army of the undead. I stood in the shade of the Pizzeria and sketched the zombie hunting superhero next to me. There were zombie clowns, some sheriffs and intestines and body parts hanging at uncomfortable angles. I couldn’t sketch it all. Someone shouted out, “Five minutes till we march!” I’m always rushing against time. A guttural murmur rushed through the crowd. It was far too hot for a zombie march if you ask me. Dead flesh baked in the Florida sun and bloody make up oozed with sweat. Pale flesh began to bake red.

Next to me a bicycle was covered with colorful parrots. The owner would get the birds to perch on a zombie for a photo and a fee. A cockatoo preened a love bird. They didn’t resemble the undead in any way. Finally the hot crowd of zombies began their march down International Drive towards the Wyndham hotel. With two sketches done, I decided to head home. Traffic came to a stand still  on International Drive as tourists gawked at the crowd of zombies moaning and shuffling down the sidewalk. Another typical day in Orlando.

Jury Duty

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I got a summons for Jury Duty. I seem to be on the short list. The card I got in the mail said I could call the evening before my service at which time I would find out if I needed to go to the courthouse or not. A recording announced that any jurors with a number 2 to 364 would have to report to the courthouse. Darn it! The number on my summons was 55. I would had to go in at 8AM the next day.

I don’t get up before sunrise very often to the drive downtown was an adventure. The summons said I could park in the courthouse parking garage but instead I parked in my super supremo suburban side street spot.  The long walk to the courthouse finally got my body awake. There was a Channel 9 News truck in front of the courthouse with it’s satellite dish raised. “Great.” I thought. “With my luck I’ll end up on some controversial case that goes on for months.” I was thankful that there was no line into the courthouse, but there was the usual eternal switchbacks to get people through metal detectors and x-ray machines. “Put your cellphones, belts and wallet into a tray when you get to the front of the line!” a security guard shouted. He repeated himself every few minutes. This is what it must be like waiting to get into hell. I didn’t set off a metal detector but a guard didn’t like the look of some fingernail clippers I had on my key chain. Apparently the nail file was an imposing weapon. He bent the file back and forth until it broke off. If you see me around town with dirty fingernails, don’t judge me. It is a sacrifice I made to fulfill my civic duty. Thankfully my pencil sharpener went undetected.

Suite 108 held the jurors until judges called for them. We were asked to stand and say the Pledge of Allegiance and then raised our right hand to be sworn in. Swearing in basically boils down to, “Don’t lie to get off a jury.” Then we had to watch a video that explained the Voir Dire process, or lawyers finding the right jurors. It was stressed that we couldn’t eat, drink or read in the courtroom. “Sweet!” I thought. “They didn’t say I couldn’t sketch.” There was to be no Tweeting, Facebooking or Blogging. “Hey, wait a minute, I blog about everything!” Mainly the judge didn’t want us to disclose our thoughts about the case.

Then we waited, and waited. A batch of 16 jurors were called and sent to a courtroom. Then 16 more names were called. Thankfully, I dodged the bullets so I could get the sketch finished. At 11:30AM we were given a break for lunch. I got a couple of slices of pizza and walked around Lake Eola. The second time going through security, I forgot to put my keys in the basket. I was patted down and just about strip searched. When I got back to the Jury holding pen, we were all told we could leave. Our service was complete. The only lawyers I saw that day were young paralegals right out of college at the table next to mine at the pizza joint.

Fringe Poetry Smackdown

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The Poetry Smack Down happened at the Fringe outdoor stage. Tod Caviness was the host. Judges included Beth Marshall, Michael Marinaccio, Eric Yow and several other producer-directors. Tod lead off the event with a spoken word piece about Orlando called Swamp. It makes Orlando sound like a pretty cool place to be. None of the poets at this event relied on sheets of paper or iPhones. Their words were deeply rooted in their memories and the cadence, beat and flow were well rehearsed. These were monologues from the heart, some raw and some humorous.

A heavy set woman got on stage and she knocked any preconceptions to the ground as she spoke passionately about her queef.  This is a word so seldom heard, or uttered, that my computer insists it is spelled wrong. At first the audience was in shock, but soon everyone was roaring with laughter. Beth gave high marks for this passionate poem about a woman’s right to let go. A male poet followed her with his passionate poem about how he would like to f*ck the whites from his woman’s eyes. He later spoke of religion and intolerance with insight and level headed reflection. You never know what to expect at a smack down.

My wife was covered in gold. We had been to a James Bond themed party earlier that day. With her Gold Finger, face, hands and sequined dress she fit in perfectly on the green lawn of fabulousness. She sat with her literary friends while I sketched. The face paint was starting to make her uncomfortable however so, as soon as I was done with my sketch, we had to go.

Casino Royale

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The Friends of the Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra held a Casino Royale fundraiser at Villa Conroy. Tickets were $100. My wife, Terry, painted herself gold for the event in honor of the James Bond film Gold Finger. When we entered Villa Conroy, the first song on the sound system was appropriately, Gold Finger. Upstairs, blackjack and roulette tables were set up. The room was filled with art, both representational and abstract. A Chihuli glass lily pad was encased behind Plexiglas. Everyone was handed a hundred dollar bill which could be turned in for chips. Terry used my chips since she played while I sketched.

At the roulette wheel, Kristin Brandt, the Assistant Director of Development for the Philharmonic, was tentative about placing her first bets. She had never played roulette before. Her boyfriend  stood behind her coaching. She doubled her money. Then doubled it again. She was giddy and flustered, blushing. “Beginners luck” someone muttered as his chips were cleaned off the table. A crowd gathered and shouted as she won again. More chips were pulled out to be added to her pile.

Terry, the golden girl, mostly stuck with Blackjack. Towards the end of the evening she grew fearless and her winnings grew exponentially. At stake for everyone in the room was the lure of a gift basket. I scanned the other tables to see if anyone else had a stack of chips as big as Terry’s. Kristin’s stack had dissipated. The gentleman on the right side of my sketch had an impressive pile. With a minute to go before they closed the betting, Terry bet everything and lost. The gentleman took home the gift basket. Each of the dealers had Tupperware “tip jars”. They were stuffed full or real green.

After the fundraiser, Terry and I went to the Kerouac House where we just missed the reading by resident author, Leslie Parry.  Former resident author, Catlin Doyle, was there as well. She was at the Atlantic Center of the Arts in New Smyrna Beach and she drove to Orlando for the reading.  I was fascinated with her life as a nomadic resident artist. After a quick bite and sip, Terry and I went to Fringe for a Poetry Smack down.