A couple weeks ago my son Miles and I were walking around the D.C. Booth Fish Hatchery in Spearfish (where I spend probably 20% of my leisure time) when I was hit with an idea for a story. Story ideas come to me all the time, but not like this. It had a beginning, a middle and an end. It had defined characters.

About this time a year ago I had a nice creative streak. I started writing some new songs and I revived work on a couple old ones. I actually started using some of the musical gear I'd purchase a year before. And I was feeling so good about it, I set a goal to complete a recording by May of this year. The title of the album was going to be July.

Have you picked up that most of us bloging here at Dirty Sprocket dislike Roland Emmerich? Sure, Derek's favorite TV program ever was sired by Emmerich's movie Stargate (I don't get it either), but I'm told that most fans of the series feel the further the show got away from the movie the better it became. That aside, Roland Emmerich movies trouble me. I'm not saying they aren't fun, but the fun quickly wears thin.

In case you are wondering, this is not a continuation for my last post reviewing the latest Terminator movie. In fact, I won't be reviewing any major Hollywood movie this time.

Earlier this week fellow Dirty Sprock-izen Derek Olson and I were visiting over lunch about progress and direction of this website. We talked about getting the first Sprock-isode online, and what technical refinements we want to make for the next one, which, by the way, we've already recorded. We discussed various traffic building promotions, such as giveaways, a blog roll, Google word ads and Facebook ads. At some point it dawned on both of us that most of our post have been movie reviews. The Dirty Sprocket Blog as well as the website proper was never might to be primarily a criticism sites. What DirtySprocket.com is meant to be I can't say exactly, but given the contributors' disdain of critics that is some irony I would rather shake off.

Sometimes taking something that's become trite and worn out, letting it rest for a bit, then giving it a healthy reboot in the rear is a good thing. And sometimes, the folks who are making the decision to give the reboot are the very fools who couldn't tell that their previous attempt was trite and worn out. Worse yet, they couldn't tell there previous attempt may have been good.

Mel Gibson. Go ahead scream it at the top of your lungs, it feels really good. Mel! Effing Gibson!

Whew. That was a workout. This morning on the commute to Deadwood I was listening the radio... And yes, I know, I'm not in that demo, but SDPR switches from NPR to Morning Classics too early. At any rate, when the guys on KSQY started playing that stupid Buck Cherry song, I switched over to the pop music station, I don't recall the call. They were talking about Mel Gibson's wife file for divorce. Apparently, she'll be getting half, which is like $450 million. Well, that's fair. I mean, clearly after 28 years of marriage and seven children, it's clear that he must have been a horrible, horrible husband that deserves to be punished. But the sarcasm runs only so deep when I consider that he'll still be worth $450 million. Go ahead, say that number aloud, then try not to scream out MEL GIBSON!

Last fall I began writing a screenplay about a cult-like ufology organization and its founder named Von Varagon. As this was my first crack at a screenplay I vowed I wouldn't do any editing until I finished the draft. I did so because I tend to edit content as go, which slows my progress and probably eliminates the wrong stuff.

This approach seemed to have worked for a while. I managed to get over 40 pages. I was pleased and confident enough in the effort that I even created a project site at www.vonvaragon.com and a cafepress store (say what you will. the coffee mug is awesome.)

I invented this.

I'm not nuts about most critics and it has very little to do with the thickness of my skin. It is because most critics offer very little criticism.

You'll notice I didn't put constructive before criticism. That's right, I'm one of those types who doesn't define it any other way. There is no good, no bad, just constructive criticism or self-serving gibberish.

Way back in 2002, shortly after moving back to the Black Hills, I found myself without a band. In the 16 years previous, since 1986, I had been actively engaged in some sort of musical collaboration. Sure, there had been brief lulls during that period, but I usually had a pretty good idea of what was coming next. This time, I didn't have a clue, although I was confident that I'd find something quickly, if I wanted. That turned out to be a false assumption.