Dear Agent Person,

Nineteen year old Adam just failed a suicide attempt. His five year old sister, Evelyn, saw him bleeding on the floor pressing a gun to his head. Every night, Adam tucks her into bed and hopes to find a way to make it up to her. His one real chance may be Richard White, a young and compassionate psychologist, but their prepaid appointments are running out fast.

Enter Cherith, a passionate teenage punk girl, and Adam’s whole world changes. Cherith is the strange young love of his life, but he soon learns she’s been diagnosed with cancer. Suddenly, Adam is plagued by vivid nightmares. Her condition declines, and Adam’s dreams change along with her. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees a crow carrying a beating human heart in its beak, or the violet skies and red grass blades of what could be heaven. The visions begin to seep into real life, and Adam is torn between dreams and reality. All he really wants is to win back Evelyn’s trust and to keep a promise he made to Cherith on Valentine’s night: that nothing, not even death, can keep them from being together. He just may find his dreams are exactly what he needs to keep his promise.

VALENTINE is a work of literary fiction of approximately 100,000 words. I’ve read your blog nearly every day for the past two years, and I appreciate your honesty, humor and love for monkeys. I hope you’ll agree you’d be a great match for this story.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

Josh Everett Ryan

A children’s choir stands on a stage. They are dressed as all manner of zombies, witches, devils and goblins. They sing what seems like a showtune upon first listen, but no, that can’t be right – the words are rife with macabre imagery to bones and graves and, well, zombies. There’s a man standing next to them, and he strums a guitar, singing in a high-pitched voice along with them. And in the front, there’s a movie star with a microphone singing doo-wop over everything. His name is Ryan Gosling. His band is called Dead Man’s Bones.

I’ve listened to their very first (self-titled) album. It collects and blends a number of different influences, including showtunes, gospel, and 1950’s pop classics among so many others my untrained ears can’t identify, but it certainly sounds pretty. A track called Buried in Water is a slow piano piece that evokes a sinking feeling, much like the title implies. A song called My Body’s A Zombie For You almost sounds like a lost 1950’s pop radio hit. My personal favorite, though, has to be Pa Pa Power. Sung by Zach Shields, it has a lush electric melody that stands out against the deeper, “older” feel of most of the rest of the album. Still, it doesn’t break the flow of the album or feel “tacked on” at all, and with the use of electronic pops and a choir of children singing, “We won’t destroy. No, we will not destroy you,” well, in a strange sort of way, it just really sounds amazing.

Dead Man Bones is lo-fi and beautiful. Ryan Gosling proves he’s a capable vocalist, evoking a somewhat “old-time” kind of feel, reminiscent of music from the 1920’s. The two listed members – Gosling and Zach Shields – seem to play their own admittedly sizeable selection of instruments, often “singing out” beats or sounds they either don’t know how to replicate with their respective instruments, or just don’t feel the need to. The background of children’s voices works wonders, as well – they certainly add a spooky ambient in some spots to certain songs, and other times their innocence seems on fully display, shining brightly through the gloom.

Given the nature of the lyrics and the obvious use of gothic archetypes in the music, I’m tempted to say something like, “this is a glorious soundtrack to the spirit of Halloween.” Admittedly though, I don’t think it would be fair to corner the album like that. While I’m sure the record will hold a special significance for this time of the year – as the golden leaves fall from the trees, the breeze picks up and grows a little colder, and we all stand on the precipice of Halloween – it feels like a lot more than just a holiday album. From the slowly rising tide of sound on the opening track, Dead Hearts, on through, Dead Man’s Bones is an inventive album that, although certainly not perfect, is still filled with moments of pure beauty. I know that I’ll be listening to this long after the end of October.

In short, I like it a lot.

Today I read an article from legendary film critic Roger Ebert. The article, here, hit me pretty hard. It’s not because the thought that the world will eventually come to an end, and that everyone I know will someday die, either. I’ve been hearing a lot about the end of the world this past year. My own father has become one of those conspiracy theorists who believe the world is going to end on December 21st or 22nd of 2012. I struck a deal with him, that if and when that happens, I will listen to him when he says, “I told you so.” But on December 24th, 2012, if we’re still alive, I will gladly yell, “We’re still alive! Now be quiet… and Merry Christmas!”

But no, the article is so compelling for another reason, possibly illuminating a far more narcissistic side of me. You see, I’m a dreamer and a writer. I love what I do, and I plan to send out my very first novel to publishers in the coming year. I truly hope that someday, people across the country, maybe even the world, will read this story. And in my own mind, I’ve always thought that that would truly make me happy. I would feel invincible, I would feel like forever if only I could be immortalized in a novel. After all, books are forever, aren’t they?

Of course, I knew that books have been burned before, and that many books that don’t sell well are discontinued, the extras shipped back to their publishers, never to be seen (or read) again. But surely, I thought, that would never happen to me. I thought that, truly, all I needed to do was to write something strong enough, something that might touch people’s hearts in some way and I’d find my name along the cloth spine of a book, somewhere on the shelf before Salinger and Shakespeare, and all would be well. I would live forever.

Until the conspiracy theorists started to dream up grander and grander visions of an apocalypse, in which human beings are not only killed, but every last record of us are burned along with our bodies, and sooner or later there will be no trace that we were ever here. All of our skin and bone will turn to dust. The buildings will grow weak with age, the stone will weather and fall. The rivers will rise and swallow cities whole. And along with them, every word of every book will someday fade. And even if the world doesn’t all burn into a cinder, someday, maybe, books will become obsolete. As illiteracy grows in this country, rife throughout inner cities, as newspapers are growing weaker with every apathetic reader turning to likes of O’Reilly and Limbaugh to do their thinking for them instead, maybe books will die long before humans ever do. And what then? What of my own selfish legacy, my quest to be remembered? How will I find meaning then?

For the past two years, I’ve devoted my life to a story called VALENTINE. I feel passionate about it. Just thinking of scenes and phrases of the book still makes me smile. It makes me feel euphoric sometimes. It even makes me cry. I desperately want the world to read it someday. But I’ve learned a lot of things about myself while writing this book. One such thing I’ve learned is that not everyone in the world from now until forever has to read and fall in love with this book that I’ve written in order for me to be satisfied. I don’t expect people to proclaim me the best writer since Shakespeare. I don’t expect pictures in magazines of crowds of people clutching the cover to their chests to still their thumping hearts. Because the truth is that I love the story that I have written. I hope that everyone else who takes the time to read it enjoys it as much as I do, but I know that many won’t. And that’s okay. Because I realize now that my name doesn’t have to be remembered to everyone, because even if I don’t get a world full of fame from this story, I did get something that I think might be far more important and precious instead: I got to tell a story that was deeply personal and close to my heart, a story that I’m devastatingly proud of, that not only could show someone who I really am inside, but has literally helped me to realize my full potential and guided me to a happier, better place in my life. To be quite honest, it has made me a better person. And while I know that the chances are slim that it will ever even be published, and that even if it was, the words would someday blur or burn, I’m quite content knowing that what I got from this story will last, at least, for the rest of my life, however long that will be.

And that, truly, still makes me quite happy.

Tonight, I saw The Brothers Bloom. It centers on two brothers, Stephen and Bloom, who have become renowned con men. Stephen (Mark Ruffalo) is the older of the two. He hatches their plans and writes out all of their cons like an intricate story – complete with symbolism and references and allusions to his favorite literary works. He loves what he does. Bloom (Adrien Brody) is his younger brother, the reluctant of the two. He plays the lead in all of Stephen’s cons, and he’s grown tired of reading lines and telling lies. Clearly, he yearns for something genuine for once in his life. Though he’s attempted to leave all this deceit behind him several times before, the fear that once he doesn’t have someone to tell him what’s next – someone like Stephen – he won’t know what to do with himself anymore. And so, he stays.

Enter Penelope (Rachel Weisz) , the eccentric shut-in “mark” (i.e., victim) for their con. She’s hardly ever left her mansion in her entire life, and she’s spent years by herself, collecting hobbies. She’s made pinhole cameras from watermelons, tried (and failed terribly) at racing expensive sports cars and learned to play a number of musical instruments from instruction books, but now she yearns for adventure. The Brothers Bloom soon find their way into her life and convince her that they’re antique salesmen. Quickly, they convince her to join them on a journey rife with danger and lies, but Bloom begins to develop feelings for Peneople, and in turn, feels guilty for the lies both brothers have fed her. It’s not long before Bloom begins to wonder if the real “mark” of Stephen’s con is not Penelope, but Bloom himself.

The film is directed by Rian Johnson, who previously directed Brick, a fantastic neo-noir story set in a high school. I liked Brick a lot, especially its 1950’s style inspired slang that the kids use throughout the film, the sharp cinematography and the beautiful ringing soundtrack. Since then, I’ve been eagerly awaiting Johnson’s next film, and this one hasn’t disappointed. I will admit though that Bloom doesn’t quite reach the brilliance of Brick, which has a special soft spot in my heart carved out for its magnificent shots, soundtrack and great lead character.

What’s to love in Bloom though? The performances by Brody, Wiesz and Ruffalo are all great. Rachel Weisz is a terrific, underrated actress that doesn’t get nearly the credit she deserves for a lot of her work (The Fountain!) Here, she really brings out the awkward quirks of a woman who hasn’t seen so much of the world, and emotes her passion for adventure in a really lovable way.

I’ve always liked many of the performances by Mark Ruffalo and Adrien Brody as well, especially Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind/Zodiac and The Pianist/The Darjeeling Limited respectively. Here, none of the actors disappoint. Brody really brings out the reluctance Bloom feels for most of the story, but he shines brightest when his character finally sheds his worries and acts on his own behalf for the first time in his life without his brother Stephen’s directions, culminating in a little scene of strangely uplifting petty larceny.

Oh, and I almost forgot, then there’s Bang Bang (Rinko Kikuchi)… the silent asian companion of the two brothers. She serves as the right-hand woman for Stephen (and Bloom), as well as demolitions expert. Though she’s a girl of few words, she’s certainly the most mysterious character, and while she barely has more than a few words throughout the whole movie, her use of body language and especially her facial expressions still puts a lot of mainstream “stars” to shame.

For con films, double-crosses and plot twists come with the territory, and I expected them. While this stories’ turns aren’t as shocking or unpredictable as some other films I’ve seen, the ending certainly does tug at the heart strings in a different way than I was expecting. Though I started watching the movie  hoping for a few big twists and turns (like many people do), I instead found myself surprised that the most successful element of the film was how the pieces for the characters fit together in the end.

While I started the movie in hopes for a little more carpet-pulling (from under me) than I got, I’m still pleased with the film, mainly due to the way the story arcs for each character fit together in the end. While Bloom isn’t nearly on the same intellectual plane as, say, a film like Memento, it still brings a fairly heavy emotional investment to its characters, and for that, I’d recommend it.

Anyone who does drugs isn’t listening to the right music loud enough.

Elliott Smith

Neutral Milk Hotel

she&him and zooey deschanel in general.

song: here.

I’ll make this brief. One of my favorite bands ever is Rx Bandits. What started as a Ska/Punk blend has become one of the most criminally unknown and underrated bands in the world. They have brilliant lyrics, and their music is organic and chaotic rock with a reggae style floating somewhere in the background of it all. Their newest album is called Mandala, and it’s available to download for $2.99. The entire 11-track album, plus a bonus acoustic track, is 3 bucks here. It is absolutely, unquestionably the best three dollars I have ever spent. And I’m likely going to buy a hard copy too.

If you have ears and a soul, this is something I really really recommend listening to. I swear that this is not money you’d be wasting. This album’s a masterpiece.

today is july 16th, and 40 years ago nasa launched a rocket called the apollo 11. on july 20th, 4 days later, one of the crewmembers, neil armstrong, stepped on the moon. he was the first human being to ever do so. there’s a website that’s apparently celebrating the anniversary of this by reliving the launch of apollo 11. it’s called wechoosethemoon.org.

the website is going to let viewers experience the event with messages from the astronauts, photographs, audio recordings and more. in about 9 hours from this posting, it will go into its second “stage” – the launch.

i was born in 1987, so i wasn’t alive when this happened. but for a couple of years now i’ve been pretty interested in astronomy, including going to some telescope viewings of the moon and mars at college. i know that i’ll definitely be keeping tabs on this website to see these things unfold. for me, it’s still really incredible to think about just what a tremendous step forward for mankind the event was – not just for technology and science, but because it encapsulated mankind’s determination for progress. by literally sending a man to the moon, we showed the world not only that we had the means to do such a thing, but we had a vision for it as well, and that if we worked hard enough we could persevere and someday achieve our dreams, and touch the stars if we wanted to.

the website is wechoosethemoon.org.

one of the great things about writing fiction is that sometimes, when you read something you wrote a long time ago, you had forgotten that you wrote some of those lines. they feel fresh and new and beautiful. they’re surprising, and you feel like a genius having written them. i spent the past two days reading through VALENTINE, and i found lines that made me laugh because i don’t remember writing them at all. i’m so used to reading my things with a critical eye, with the mistakes glaring at me. and it was nice to let go and read through something of mine and just enjoy it for a change. it’s a feeling i recommend to everyone sometime.

what i’m listening to: lots and lots and lots of death cab for cutie

i woke up today, just a few minutes ago actually, shortly after 8 a.m., struggling to get free from my blankets. i scrambled to my desk to turn my laptop on, shuffling through inkless pens and broken pencils to find one that worked to write some words i could remember on a post-it note that was just sitting there. and finally, when the new text document screen popped up, i wrote these words down…

and when your skin is old and drying,
ravaged by the sun’s rays
i will be on the beach beside you,
rubbing sun screen on your legs
no i won’t then have forgotten
the pink strap of your summer dress
though your back may then be bending,
i will carry you if you wish

i know now that i need a notebook on my bedside, and i must write… i must write… i must write.