Posts Tagged ‘Matt Specter’

Achtung, Schattenjagers

Thursday, November 23rd, 2023

We’ve fallen off of this a little bit, Matt Specter and I, but at one point we were excited to send this Chapter of The Story, Chapter 51, “Zek,” out every Thanksgiving. It was originally a Specter chapter, but I think it has truly come to belong to all of us.

Every year that one of us remembered, it went to at the very least, the people depicted in it, and often whichever poor souls we deemed deserving of attempting to relive a moment of our lives in Cincinnati.

It was new 26 years ago. Don’t let that sink in.

Reviews have always been mixed, but I like to think we created a Story Cinematic Universe that rivals the fair-to-middling productions by Tolkien, Marvel, Roddenberry, and Lucas.

This year, there is one Schattenjager in particular who needs to read it: James Brunner is dealing with a diagnosis of colon cancer, possibly as a result too many pops and pushes back in the 1990s (we never did learn how those cubes worked). He’s started a Yoda’s Thanksgiving of medical and surgical treatments.

Hopefully, laughter is still good medicine (the best medicine, of course, is usually, well, medicine), and hopefully this is still funny:

No quote fits this chapter.

_____________

“Mmm, come, come.  With a Jedi it is time to eat as well,” said Yoda.

Yoda had laid out quite a spread.  We didn’t know what anything was, but
there sure was an awful lot of it.

“Eat, eat.  Mmmm, good food, yes?  M-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm.  Ohhh.”

We sat down around the tiny table, careful not to bang our heads on the
low ceiling.

“Mmmm…Came you very far, yes?  Hungry you must be!  Eat, eat.”

We looked at each other hesitatingly.  Quite frankly, the stuff looked
and smelled gross.  Finally, Saunders decided we had better not make an
incident, and started scooping himself some glop.

“Why all the food?” asked Saunders conversationally, as the rest of us
followed his lead and helped ourselves.

“Is it not holiday in universe from where you came?”

I almost dropped by plate of swamp algae.  I wasn’t shocked that Yoda
knew where we were from, but Yoda’s use of the word ‘Holiday’…

I looked at my watch, which still continued to function as if I were
walking around earth.  The date said 11/27.

“You made us Thanksgiving dinner?” I asked Yoda.

“Yes!  Yes…good food we have, talk we will.  Work I not on holidays,
whatever universe may they be in.  Come, eat, eat.”

I paused for a moment, then said genuinely and sincerely, “Thank you.”
The others turned to look at me, shocked by my sudden mood swing.
Slowly they seemed to realize that this really was our Thanksgiving
dinner, and that we should be truly thankful for it.  Yoda had gone to
great trouble to make us feel welcome.  I smiled, and took a bite of my
food.

It was nasty.  I chewed slowly, fighting the urge to spit it back out.
Everyone around me was having a similar reaction, except for Yoda, who
ate with wild abandon, constantly commenting on the quality of the food.

Suddenly, he stopped, and looked up in shock.

“Ohhh…” he said, “Forgot I the most important thing!”

We all watched with intent curiosity as he picked up an empty bowl, got
up from the table, went over to the corner of the room, and opened a
large door, revealing a small horse-like creature.  Yoda placed the bowl
on the ground in front of the horse-thing, then calmy went to its side
and punched it in the gut.  The horse responded by vomiting into the
bowl.  We stared in a mixture of horror, confusion, and nausea, as Yoda
brought the bowl back to the table, and began to spoon it over his food
like gravy.  Suzanne had her hand over her mouth, and Loren looked
green.

Yoda finished scooping, and offered the bowl to us.

“Use the horse puke,” he said, “Use the horse puke!”
__________________________

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Chapter 51: Zek

Wednesday, November 21st, 2012

How in the world have fifteen years gone by?  The world has changed since November 1997, my friends.  I don’t even know how to begin to explain this, but it’s the day before Thanksgiving, and Matt Specter hasn’t posted this yet,  so here it is, with his attempt at an explanation (to which I would add that some things can’t ever be fully explained):

To some of you, welcome! To some of you, welcome back. Like it or not, everyone on this list has deemed themselves worthy of the strangest Thanksgiving tradition ever. From old friends, to former students, to current colleagues and graduate school mates, you are all about to experience the wonder that is Chapter 51.

Please allow me to explain for those who are totally lost.

Many years ago, I was but a mere undergraduate student in Music Education at CCM. While there, I and my closest friends began what can only be described as a serial story, told by email, detailing our many adventures together. A work of fiction which spanned several years, it chronicled our struggles to, among other things:

* Rid CCM of the demons which had overrun it.
* Close the portal to Hell which was a part of CCM
* Escape from Hell
* Travel to alternate universes
* Travel in time
* Destroy and save several universes along the way
* Continue to attend class and get our degrees.

This story (which simply became known as “The story”) grew into a life of its own, lived through three incarnations, and became a personal legend for all of us, as we used our writing abilities to vicariously live through our other selves, releasing some of the frustration we felt with our lives at the time.

Alas, The Story has ended, but every Thanksgiving, I send the most famous of all episodes, Chapter 51, to all I deem worthy. Most likely, you will end up shaking your head in confusion or disgust. If you find it funny, God help you. You understand my bizarre mind.

The background: In Chapter 51, my friends and I have been travelling from universe to universe, each universe being based on some TV show or movie from our own universe (how this is possible is explained in great detail in previous chapters – if you want to know more, ask me about the photon leak). We are trying desperately to get home, and have landed at last in the “Star Wars” universe. Naturally, we seek guidance from the great Jedi Master, Yoda.

Enjoy the chapter. And believe it or not, this is really my way of sincerely wishing everyone a truly happy Thanksgiving.

Author’s note – Due to recent years’ increase in the number of people who don’t ‘get it’ – I have done the unthinkable. I have made a slight edit to the text. Purists forgive me. Anyone who can spot the difference will win a free copy of the Specter Family 2009 Road Trip DVDs – all 5 discs.

Chapter 51 – Zek
_____________

“Mmm, come, come. With a Jedi it is time to eat as well,” said Yoda.

Yoda had laid out quite a spread. We didn’t know what anything was, but
there sure was an awful lot of it.

“Eat, eat. Mmmm, good food, yes? M-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm. Ohhh.”

We sat down around the tiny table, careful not to bang our heads on the
low ceiling.

“Mmmm…Came you very far, yes? Hungry you must be! Eat, eat.”

We looked at each other hesitatingly. Quite frankly, the stuff looked
and smelled gross. Finally, Saunders decided we had better not make an
incident, and started scooping himself some glop.

“Why all the food?” asked Saunders conversationally, as the rest of us
followed his lead and helped ourselves.

“Is it not holiday in universe from where you came?”

I almost dropped by plate of swamp algae. I wasn’t shocked that Yoda
knew where we were from, but Yoda’s use of the word ‘Holiday’…

I looked at my watch, which still continued to function as if I were
walking around earth. The date said 11/26.

“You made us Thanksgiving dinner?” I asked Yoda.

“Yes! Yes…good food we have, talk we will. Work I not on holidays,
whatever universe may they be in. Come, eat, eat.”

I paused for a moment, then said genuinely and sincerely, “Thank you.”
The others turned to look at me, shocked by my sudden mood swing.
Slowly they seemed to realize that this really was our Thanksgiving
dinner, and that we should be truly thankful for it. Yoda had gone to
great trouble to make us feel welcome. I smiled, and took a bite of my
food.

It was nasty. I chewed slowly, fighting the urge to spit it back out.
Everyone around me was having a similar reaction, except for Yoda, who
ate with wild abandon, constantly commenting on the quality of the food.

Suddenly, he stopped, and looked up in shock.

“Ohhh…” he said, “Forgot I the most important thing!”

We all watched with intent curiosity as he picked up an empty bowl, got
up from the table, went over to the corner of the room, and opened a
large door, revealing a small horse-like creature. Yoda placed the bowl
on the ground in front of the horse-thing, then calmy went to its side
and punched it in the gut. The horse responded by vomiting into the
bowl. We stared in a mixture of horror, confusion, and nausea, as Yoda
brought the bowl back to the table, and began to spoon it over his food
like gravy. Suzanne had her hand over her mouth, and Loren looked
green.

Yoda finished scooping, and offered the bowl to us, speaking with a quiet intensity.

“Use the horse puke,” he said, “Use the horse puke!”

__________________________

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

Matt

P.S. If you don’t get it, say it out loud.

And there it is.  You are now one of the select few.  Try not to let it go to your head.

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Aspen Composers Conference

Thursday, August 4th, 2011

After what seems like years of sweltering heat here in the Oklahoma Panhandle, it was nice to take a few days and visit Aspen, Colorado so that I could present quintuplous meter at the Aspen Composers Conference, where I also performed Twenty Views of the Trombone, my work-in-progress that attempts to explore what it is like to play the trombone.  It seemed like all my college friends headed to Apen every summer and now, fifteen years later, I made it there myself.

The drive from Goodwell to Aspen takes about nine hours, and gives one the pleasure of sampling an enormous variety of flora and fauna.  Goodwell, of course, is squarely in the Southern High Plains, and those plains keep getting higher through Cimarron County and into northeastern New Mexico.  The further west you drive, the more old volcanoes like Capulin start to rise from the range, and by the time you are in Raton, there are bona fide mountains.  Then, heading north on I-25, I passed the daily westbound Amtrak train–the Southwest Chief–as I went through Raton Pass and into Colorado.  North of Trinidad, Google instructed me to get off the interstate at Walsenburg, and I headed across more range, but now with the Sangre de Cristo Mountains ahead of me.  Lunch was at the Wildflower Cafe in Gardner, a tiny place with a fantastic burger, and I was on the road again.  I picked up US50 in Cotopaxi, and followed the Arkansas River and eventually US24 through Salida and Buena Vista.  US 50 also winds through Cincinnati, Ohio, where I spent my college years, and I feel a special twinge every time I drive on a road that connects me to somewhere I used to know.  It’s sort of like when Matt Specter and I worked at schools that were on the opposite site of Ohio Route 41–Northwestern High School in Springfield and Peebles High School in Peebles–I felt somehow connected even though they were 125 miles or so apart!  The final turn before Aspen was on to Colorado Route 82, a road that closes down in the winter.  I knew that I would at some point go over some mountains, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the switchbacks that my company car and I had to take.  A light drizzle didn’t stop us, though, and we emerged at gorgeous Independence Pass, 12,000 feet above sea level.  It was fascinating to watch scrub give way to glades of aspen trees, which then turned into pine forest, and finally, the pines gave way to tundra, and even a little snow.  After enjoying the breathtaking view of the Pass, which is located on the Continental Divide, I wound my way down into Aspen to find my hotel.  Dinner and some composing in the hotel room, and I was ready for some sleep.

A conference quickly develops its own rhythm as participants stake out their space and figure out how everything works.  The Aspen Composers Conference is organized annually by Natalie Synhaivsky, and allows composers to meet to share their work, opinions and ideas.  In addition to my presentation on quintuplous meter, topics ranged from analyses of works that continue to inspire various composers, to working techniques and philosophical concerns.  Keane Southard’s presentation of Frederic Rzewski’s The People United Will Never Be Defeated! was fantastic and gave me insight into a piece that I first encountered when I was teaching middle-school general music.  The textbook for eighth grade included numerous excerpts from the work, and I’ve decided that it now needs to be on my list of pieces to investigate more fully.  The spectre of Beethoven haunted the room, as not one but two composers chose to address his late music.  Anne Goldberg, a composer and choreographer working in New York City discussed her approach to collaboration, in which collaborators are given enormous latitude to create a somewhat improvisatory approach.  The day ended with a brief recital, and I represented the trombone with six pieces from Twenty Views, including two world premieres, “What it’s not Quite Like,” which explores quintuplous meter, and “What it Will (Not) Be Like,” a twelve-tone piece using a nifty little tone-row that I came up with last month.  I don’t know when Twenty Views will be finished.  I keep adding to it as I can, and as I have need to–it can turn any occasion I have to play into a world premiere at this point.  I’d love to hear any suggestions for titles for new movements.

The drive home was uneventful, but for being held up by a painting crew before I could go back over Independence Pass.  It gave me about an hour to pull out the laptop and work on my current project, a band arrangement of the Prelude to Carmen that we will be playing on our first concert.  Surrounded by aspen trees with the windows down on a mild mountain morning isn’t a bad way to compose.

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