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#31
General JFC / Re: DEADWOOD THE MOVIE
Last post by Sven2 - August 18, 2022, 08:21:18 PMTimothy Olyphant Says 'Deadwood: The Movie' Reminded Him How Much He Stole From His Co-Stars
"These people made a far greater impression on me than I think I gave them credit for," says the actor who returns in the role of lawman Seth Bullock
Steve Pond June 2, 2019 @ 5:47 PM
Since "Deadwood" ended its three-year run on HBO in 2006, Timothy Olyphant was always pretty sure of one thing about the profane Western series created by David Milch: It was not coming back.
"I thought it was never going to happen," Olyphant told theWrap about a revival of the series in which he played Seth Bullock, a lawman in a lawless town. "There was no reason for it to happen. I think I'm on record as saying it's tough to get that many people together for a barbecue."
But Milch agreed to make a two-hour movie, "Deadwood: The Movie," which picks up with the denizens of the town of Deadwood 10 years after the original series ended — and Olyphant, who in the intervening years had played the bad guy in "Live Free or Die Hard" and starred on the series "Justified," among other jobs, finally realized that it might be time to pull on Bullock's boots again.
"I had a meeting over at HBO, and they said, 'Are you in or not? Because we need to tell people tomorrow.'" He shrugged. "Shortly after that moment, I realized, 'Oh, we're going to do this.'"
Olyphant was adamant that "I wasn't interested in playing the same part again," but he and Milch talked a lot about Bullock, who is based on a real Deadwood lawman from the late 1800s. "I don't think he was interested in telling the same story, either," he said. "So that passage of time was very present in our conversations."
And when he got back on the set to work with costars like Ian McShane, Molly Parker, John Hawkes, Dayton Callie and others, Olyphant found that he was actually enjoying the revival he had initially resisted.
"I loved seeing everyone again, I loved watching everybody work," he said. "I'm quite fond of a great many of those people — fond of them as people, fond of their work. They were already good at what they did a dozen years ago, and now they're ridiculously good.
"A lot of times when you look back at these things, there's all the things you remember, there's the things you expect. What's fun are the unexpected things, the things you've forgotten. And they come rushing back. Little tics that people did, things they said. Things I've been saying for 10 or 12 years, that I had forgotten I stole them from people on this set."
One example: "I remember standing next to John Hawkes, and he said, 'Well, let's tighten up and get into character.' I was like, 'Wait, you say that? That's what I say. Did I get that from you? I've been saying that for 10 or 12 years now. I got that from you, didn't I?' Things like that that just tickled me along the way.
"There were a bunch of those moments where someone did something, and I thought, 'Oh, I do that. This must be the source.' These people made a far greater impression on me than I think I gave them credit for."
And while the original series ended when HBO cancelled it after Season 3, this time around the project had a built-in finality to it. Not only was it envisioned as a single, standalone two-hour film, but Milch said in 2015 that he'd been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, making additional "Deadwood" films unlikely.
That finality, he said, gave "Deadwood: The Movie" a feeling similar to the final performance of a long-running play. "There's a funny thing that sometimes happens when you're doing a play," he said. "On the last performance, every time another actor speaks, you really hear it because you know it's going to be the last time they say it. And when you're telling them things, you really want to make sure that they're hearing it, because you know this is going to be the last time you say it. It takes on a weight. And oftentimes those last performances feel like, 'Oh, that's the play. There it is.'
"This movie had that kind of feeling. No one spoke about it, but I for one, realized, 'Oh, this may be the last time I work with this person.' It took on a weight, and at the same time maybe a joy."
So did he think, Oh, that's "Deadwood?"
"I don't know what the f— it is," he said, laughing. "I was there, and I consider myself lucky to have been there."
from: https://www.thewrap.com/timothy-olyphant-says-deadwood-the-movie-reminded-him-how-much-he-stole-from-his-costars/
"These people made a far greater impression on me than I think I gave them credit for," says the actor who returns in the role of lawman Seth Bullock
Steve Pond June 2, 2019 @ 5:47 PM
Since "Deadwood" ended its three-year run on HBO in 2006, Timothy Olyphant was always pretty sure of one thing about the profane Western series created by David Milch: It was not coming back.
"I thought it was never going to happen," Olyphant told theWrap about a revival of the series in which he played Seth Bullock, a lawman in a lawless town. "There was no reason for it to happen. I think I'm on record as saying it's tough to get that many people together for a barbecue."
But Milch agreed to make a two-hour movie, "Deadwood: The Movie," which picks up with the denizens of the town of Deadwood 10 years after the original series ended — and Olyphant, who in the intervening years had played the bad guy in "Live Free or Die Hard" and starred on the series "Justified," among other jobs, finally realized that it might be time to pull on Bullock's boots again.
"I had a meeting over at HBO, and they said, 'Are you in or not? Because we need to tell people tomorrow.'" He shrugged. "Shortly after that moment, I realized, 'Oh, we're going to do this.'"
Olyphant was adamant that "I wasn't interested in playing the same part again," but he and Milch talked a lot about Bullock, who is based on a real Deadwood lawman from the late 1800s. "I don't think he was interested in telling the same story, either," he said. "So that passage of time was very present in our conversations."
And when he got back on the set to work with costars like Ian McShane, Molly Parker, John Hawkes, Dayton Callie and others, Olyphant found that he was actually enjoying the revival he had initially resisted.
"I loved seeing everyone again, I loved watching everybody work," he said. "I'm quite fond of a great many of those people — fond of them as people, fond of their work. They were already good at what they did a dozen years ago, and now they're ridiculously good.
"A lot of times when you look back at these things, there's all the things you remember, there's the things you expect. What's fun are the unexpected things, the things you've forgotten. And they come rushing back. Little tics that people did, things they said. Things I've been saying for 10 or 12 years, that I had forgotten I stole them from people on this set."
One example: "I remember standing next to John Hawkes, and he said, 'Well, let's tighten up and get into character.' I was like, 'Wait, you say that? That's what I say. Did I get that from you? I've been saying that for 10 or 12 years now. I got that from you, didn't I?' Things like that that just tickled me along the way.
"There were a bunch of those moments where someone did something, and I thought, 'Oh, I do that. This must be the source.' These people made a far greater impression on me than I think I gave them credit for."
And while the original series ended when HBO cancelled it after Season 3, this time around the project had a built-in finality to it. Not only was it envisioned as a single, standalone two-hour film, but Milch said in 2015 that he'd been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, making additional "Deadwood" films unlikely.
That finality, he said, gave "Deadwood: The Movie" a feeling similar to the final performance of a long-running play. "There's a funny thing that sometimes happens when you're doing a play," he said. "On the last performance, every time another actor speaks, you really hear it because you know it's going to be the last time they say it. And when you're telling them things, you really want to make sure that they're hearing it, because you know this is going to be the last time you say it. It takes on a weight. And oftentimes those last performances feel like, 'Oh, that's the play. There it is.'
"This movie had that kind of feeling. No one spoke about it, but I for one, realized, 'Oh, this may be the last time I work with this person.' It took on a weight, and at the same time maybe a joy."
So did he think, Oh, that's "Deadwood?"
"I don't know what the f— it is," he said, laughing. "I was there, and I consider myself lucky to have been there."
from: https://www.thewrap.com/timothy-olyphant-says-deadwood-the-movie-reminded-him-how-much-he-stole-from-his-costars/
#32
General JFC / Re: Mr.Milch In The News
Last post by Sven2 - July 03, 2022, 10:59:40 PMMilch was a child prodigy. He could read, understand and remember books, songs, faces, numbers, images, and stories. He never forgot anything, a trait that was perhaps not always to his benefit. Milch often tells how, in his childhood, a "family friend, a friendly uncle type," introduced him to a "gang of pedophiles who passed me around from the time I was 8." Even if most people prefer not to think about it, the trade of children is a lucrative feature of the mirror world, and the building of pedophile blackmail/control networks is the meat-and-potatoes of every intelligence service.
"The pain of the past in its pastness is translated to the future tense of joy," David Milch liked to say, quoting the great American literary figure, poet, author, and teacher, Robert Penn Warren, Milch's mentor at Yale. Milch had a spectacular undergraduate career at Yale. No undergrad in living memory is recalled by his peers as so brilliant, so charming, so candid, so amusing and so fucked up. Milch graduated first in his class. Of Penn Warren, Milch said, "He saved my life, just in terms of showin' an example of how to live a coherent life. He also engaged me to work on a history of American literature. 'I can't help you,' he said, 'until whatever is troubling you remits itself, but you can study during this period.'"
At Yale, Milch was a member of the same fraternity of which George W. Bush was president. The other brothers were the patrician, moneyed sons of established WASP families. Whatever the qualifications are for a cabinet post in the Underground Empire may be, David Milch, a Jewish doctor's son from Buffalo, met them. Once, on a duck hunting trip to Louisiana with some fraternity brothers, Milch was sitting in a swamp, slapping flies and attempting to avoid injuring any ducks. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was a friend's father, then director of CIA, later president himself, who'd joined the hunt. "You're a good Jew, Dave, you're a white Jew. I like you," George H.W. Bush blessed him.
David Milch, whose mother ran the Buffalo school board, whose father tended to gangsters' hearts, and who was passed around by pedophiles as a child, was invited to join the most storied of all secret societies, Skull and Bones. There is a procedural ritual. The invitation is formally made and the candidate advised the only responses accepted are one word, either "accept" or "decline."
Today, Milch's fraternity brothers run Fortune 500 companies, intelligence agencies, and foundations which bend dreams into shapes that fit together in ways that the so-called beneficiaries can't see, but the grant-makers can. A tremendous opportunity for a (relatively) poor but talented Jewish child from soon-to-die Buffalo to have power and make money. Milch declined.
Milch tells a story about a bachelor party in Houston, which perhaps may shed some light on that choice. Milch and several of his fraternity brothers were invited to the wedding of another frat brother. The family jet of the future groom flew the groom's party to Houston for a week of pre-wedding festivities. The high-spirited youths were each given Mercedes to drive, compliments of somebody's father's dealership. The future operators of the world all got drunk and they took those Mercedes off-road, onto a golf course and had a Paris-to-Dakar rally on the local country club greens and fairways. You can imagine there was heck to pay, and quite a bit of shouting. In the end, somebody's father had to pay for the extensive landscaping that was needed to restore the Bob Rees' golf course.
Then came the night before the wedding, and the groom was asked, "is there anything special you'd like to do on this, your last night of freedom."
The groom replied he'd like to destroy an original work of art.
After a brief scavenger hunt, a Chagall drawing was located and ceremoniously incinerated in the wastepaper basket in the library of a Houston plutocrat's home.
There are mystics who believe it is wrong to retain beyond the immediate needs of self and family, riches that flow from a freely given gift of God. I don't know if Milch believed that. If he didn't, though, his lack of such faith could not be told from his behavior. David Milch made large amounts of money, but he gave it away almost as fast, constantly, in private and in public, making no distinction in persons on religious, racial, economic, or public health grounds, as long as they would share in his wealth.
Milch helped friends, relatives, friends of relatives, friends of friend's relatives, and thousands of strangers. He eased countless family emergencies, helped with hundreds, perhaps thousands of substance abuse disasters, broken cars, burned homes, dead batteries, and felony warrants. Milch was a source of unsecured, no-interest, often no-repay "loans" to the worthy and unworthy alike.
Milch's beneficiaries, erstwhile creditors where they had the brains, would find his advice more valuable than money. Rita, nee Rita Stern, David's long-suffering wife, would periodically purge the charitable rolls, evicting excessively tenacious clients. However, Milch is an earnest member of several recovery communities, which continuously provide an ethnically diverse multitude of worthy and unworthy persons in indubitable need.
Milch, under no illusions, loves them all. He loves the scamps, the wiseguys the perverts and fools, Mormons and Mormon-haters, good and evil; though the latter tended not to hang around long, due to Milch's long friendship and professional association with NYPD Detective Bill Clark. Milch's only close male friend in adult life, Clark is an Irish American Vietnam vet who began his career in NYPD's (then secret) Intelligence Division. On patrol in the jungles of Southeast Asia, Clark developed an eye for hidden trip wires and booby traps. As head of a big city homicide division, Clark's work involved handling hot cases, politically dangerous cases, involving powerful people and terrible secrets. Many of the stories on Milch's NYPD Blue police drama originated in Clark's case files.
David Milch's own celebrated descents into the world of addiction, compulsions, and the demonic occurred at long intervals separated by decades of productive work. The experiences informed his dramas, as did his childhood experience of sexual abuse. He elevated with love that fallen world, this realm with its multitude of addicts, golems, killers and demons inhabiting the walking wounded of diminished capacity. All dramas begin, "Back," Milch would quote the poet William Yeats, "where all the ladders start; in the foul rag and bone shop of the heart."
Besides opiates and the rest of pharmacopeia, Milch suffered from another, more dangerous addiction: high stakes gambling. He owned racehorses, and won the Breeder's Cup Juvenile back in 1992 with the beautiful filly Gilded Time. For this reason, he was hesitant about doing the dramatic series Luck, a story about organized crime and revenge set in the mirror world of horse racing.
In gambling parlance, David Milch was a whale—a high-net-worth individual who meets the definition of hope-to-die gambler, an addict who, once he "gets his nose open," will make million-dollar bets and find it difficult or impossible to stop. Las Vegas bookies offered a million-dollar cash reward for anyone who delivered Milch as a client.
What we know, for sure is that in the end, the house wins. Perhaps the mirror world takes the money back, or a beat forces the gambler to reflect on who he is and what he wants. "We let you walk around like a man for a while, then we turn you back into a little boy," is an old Vegas saying Milch liked to quote. Milch lost, they say, $70 million. I wasn't there and did not discuss his losses with him; we mutually acknowledged those facts through silence. It was a bad beat.
Milch wasn't quitting, though. He thought he might have one arrow left in the quiver. He talked about a show set in a CIA-run bordello in London. The players were Sir James Goldsmith, several Rothschilds and Guinnesses, Lords Aspinall, Lucan, and a spectrum of addicts, occultists, extortionists, and spies engaging in espionage, extortion, entertainment, political blackmail in the treacherous hypersexed milieu of the London clublands.
We were driving to lunch in Santa Monica, discussing the prospective CIA project one afternoon, when Milch said he'd made an appointment with the former director of the CIA, James Woolsey, to meet at the LA airport to discuss the projected U.K. spy-honeypot project. An important meeting, a necessary conversation. Milch was to meet the former director between planes in the not-so-secret VIP spook lounge at LAX, when something entirely unexpected happened.
"I forgot," he told me.
David Milch didn't forget anything. Ever. We both knew that. If he forgot anything, it was a sign of something awry, an ominous warning of pathology at work. In retrospect, Milch recognized there had been other warning signs. It wasn't long, perhaps a week or two, between that conversation and Milch being diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, a progressive dementia for which the only treatments are palliative. "It's not scary," he said soon after his diagnosis, "it's just like ... the world slipping away."
A bad beat. And yet, Milch had rejected the position on offer. He declined membership in the semisecret club, did not sleep naked in a tomb with a stolen skull; instead, by prayer, personal sacrifice and constant lifelong effort, he created redemptive works of dramatic art.
The worlds of Deadwood, of NYPD Blue and John from Cincinnati and every other dramatic world that Milch created stood opposed to the pure materiality and marketing of the mirror world. The economic and popular success Milch's shows enjoyed was outweighed in importance by the powerful and enduring effect on human consciousness of thousands of hours of dramatic entertainment which showed, and which itself is, a work of the spirit.
Prayer is how David Milch thought about his work, and stages of contemplative ascent occur in sequences of scenes. For some, an eschatological elevation of the soul occurs unexpectedly. While Milch always identified himself as a Jew, like another old friend, Kinky Friedman, he is somewhat estranged from traditional, formal practice of Judaism, as I am from the Anglican faith of my birth. My own interests and our irreligious times inclined many of us, "Christians, Jews and Sigma Nu's," as Kinky Friedman likes to say, to a semi-agnostic secularity that did not frown on prayer or the possibility of redemption. Once a fellow writer described the deity in Milch's presence as "the foul demi-urge that made this world." Milch was profoundly shocked. Not much shocked him, but his face showed unmistakable horror.
Milch was able to look with love on all the polar extremes of experience, a capacity that is especially necessary and lacking now, as times are changing. The world has a way of opposing and mistreating unusual people while the person is in the body, and so it is better they remain anonymous while within the world's reach. When they are beyond it, as David Milch now is, it is better their works be known. He was the "Rosh ha-Dor, the leader of his generation, in the spiritual sense of the person who lives in communion with God, but utilizes his power in order to draw his contemporaries upward with him.
Ted Mann is an Emmy award-winning writer who worked on NYPD Blue, Deadwood, Hatfield McCoy, and Homeland.
from: https://www.tabletmag.com/sections/arts-letters/articles/clearing-space-david-milch
"The pain of the past in its pastness is translated to the future tense of joy," David Milch liked to say, quoting the great American literary figure, poet, author, and teacher, Robert Penn Warren, Milch's mentor at Yale. Milch had a spectacular undergraduate career at Yale. No undergrad in living memory is recalled by his peers as so brilliant, so charming, so candid, so amusing and so fucked up. Milch graduated first in his class. Of Penn Warren, Milch said, "He saved my life, just in terms of showin' an example of how to live a coherent life. He also engaged me to work on a history of American literature. 'I can't help you,' he said, 'until whatever is troubling you remits itself, but you can study during this period.'"
At Yale, Milch was a member of the same fraternity of which George W. Bush was president. The other brothers were the patrician, moneyed sons of established WASP families. Whatever the qualifications are for a cabinet post in the Underground Empire may be, David Milch, a Jewish doctor's son from Buffalo, met them. Once, on a duck hunting trip to Louisiana with some fraternity brothers, Milch was sitting in a swamp, slapping flies and attempting to avoid injuring any ducks. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was a friend's father, then director of CIA, later president himself, who'd joined the hunt. "You're a good Jew, Dave, you're a white Jew. I like you," George H.W. Bush blessed him.
David Milch, whose mother ran the Buffalo school board, whose father tended to gangsters' hearts, and who was passed around by pedophiles as a child, was invited to join the most storied of all secret societies, Skull and Bones. There is a procedural ritual. The invitation is formally made and the candidate advised the only responses accepted are one word, either "accept" or "decline."
Today, Milch's fraternity brothers run Fortune 500 companies, intelligence agencies, and foundations which bend dreams into shapes that fit together in ways that the so-called beneficiaries can't see, but the grant-makers can. A tremendous opportunity for a (relatively) poor but talented Jewish child from soon-to-die Buffalo to have power and make money. Milch declined.
Milch tells a story about a bachelor party in Houston, which perhaps may shed some light on that choice. Milch and several of his fraternity brothers were invited to the wedding of another frat brother. The family jet of the future groom flew the groom's party to Houston for a week of pre-wedding festivities. The high-spirited youths were each given Mercedes to drive, compliments of somebody's father's dealership. The future operators of the world all got drunk and they took those Mercedes off-road, onto a golf course and had a Paris-to-Dakar rally on the local country club greens and fairways. You can imagine there was heck to pay, and quite a bit of shouting. In the end, somebody's father had to pay for the extensive landscaping that was needed to restore the Bob Rees' golf course.
Then came the night before the wedding, and the groom was asked, "is there anything special you'd like to do on this, your last night of freedom."
The groom replied he'd like to destroy an original work of art.
After a brief scavenger hunt, a Chagall drawing was located and ceremoniously incinerated in the wastepaper basket in the library of a Houston plutocrat's home.
There are mystics who believe it is wrong to retain beyond the immediate needs of self and family, riches that flow from a freely given gift of God. I don't know if Milch believed that. If he didn't, though, his lack of such faith could not be told from his behavior. David Milch made large amounts of money, but he gave it away almost as fast, constantly, in private and in public, making no distinction in persons on religious, racial, economic, or public health grounds, as long as they would share in his wealth.
Milch helped friends, relatives, friends of relatives, friends of friend's relatives, and thousands of strangers. He eased countless family emergencies, helped with hundreds, perhaps thousands of substance abuse disasters, broken cars, burned homes, dead batteries, and felony warrants. Milch was a source of unsecured, no-interest, often no-repay "loans" to the worthy and unworthy alike.
Milch's beneficiaries, erstwhile creditors where they had the brains, would find his advice more valuable than money. Rita, nee Rita Stern, David's long-suffering wife, would periodically purge the charitable rolls, evicting excessively tenacious clients. However, Milch is an earnest member of several recovery communities, which continuously provide an ethnically diverse multitude of worthy and unworthy persons in indubitable need.
Milch, under no illusions, loves them all. He loves the scamps, the wiseguys the perverts and fools, Mormons and Mormon-haters, good and evil; though the latter tended not to hang around long, due to Milch's long friendship and professional association with NYPD Detective Bill Clark. Milch's only close male friend in adult life, Clark is an Irish American Vietnam vet who began his career in NYPD's (then secret) Intelligence Division. On patrol in the jungles of Southeast Asia, Clark developed an eye for hidden trip wires and booby traps. As head of a big city homicide division, Clark's work involved handling hot cases, politically dangerous cases, involving powerful people and terrible secrets. Many of the stories on Milch's NYPD Blue police drama originated in Clark's case files.
David Milch's own celebrated descents into the world of addiction, compulsions, and the demonic occurred at long intervals separated by decades of productive work. The experiences informed his dramas, as did his childhood experience of sexual abuse. He elevated with love that fallen world, this realm with its multitude of addicts, golems, killers and demons inhabiting the walking wounded of diminished capacity. All dramas begin, "Back," Milch would quote the poet William Yeats, "where all the ladders start; in the foul rag and bone shop of the heart."
Besides opiates and the rest of pharmacopeia, Milch suffered from another, more dangerous addiction: high stakes gambling. He owned racehorses, and won the Breeder's Cup Juvenile back in 1992 with the beautiful filly Gilded Time. For this reason, he was hesitant about doing the dramatic series Luck, a story about organized crime and revenge set in the mirror world of horse racing.
In gambling parlance, David Milch was a whale—a high-net-worth individual who meets the definition of hope-to-die gambler, an addict who, once he "gets his nose open," will make million-dollar bets and find it difficult or impossible to stop. Las Vegas bookies offered a million-dollar cash reward for anyone who delivered Milch as a client.
What we know, for sure is that in the end, the house wins. Perhaps the mirror world takes the money back, or a beat forces the gambler to reflect on who he is and what he wants. "We let you walk around like a man for a while, then we turn you back into a little boy," is an old Vegas saying Milch liked to quote. Milch lost, they say, $70 million. I wasn't there and did not discuss his losses with him; we mutually acknowledged those facts through silence. It was a bad beat.
Milch wasn't quitting, though. He thought he might have one arrow left in the quiver. He talked about a show set in a CIA-run bordello in London. The players were Sir James Goldsmith, several Rothschilds and Guinnesses, Lords Aspinall, Lucan, and a spectrum of addicts, occultists, extortionists, and spies engaging in espionage, extortion, entertainment, political blackmail in the treacherous hypersexed milieu of the London clublands.
We were driving to lunch in Santa Monica, discussing the prospective CIA project one afternoon, when Milch said he'd made an appointment with the former director of the CIA, James Woolsey, to meet at the LA airport to discuss the projected U.K. spy-honeypot project. An important meeting, a necessary conversation. Milch was to meet the former director between planes in the not-so-secret VIP spook lounge at LAX, when something entirely unexpected happened.
"I forgot," he told me.
David Milch didn't forget anything. Ever. We both knew that. If he forgot anything, it was a sign of something awry, an ominous warning of pathology at work. In retrospect, Milch recognized there had been other warning signs. It wasn't long, perhaps a week or two, between that conversation and Milch being diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, a progressive dementia for which the only treatments are palliative. "It's not scary," he said soon after his diagnosis, "it's just like ... the world slipping away."
A bad beat. And yet, Milch had rejected the position on offer. He declined membership in the semisecret club, did not sleep naked in a tomb with a stolen skull; instead, by prayer, personal sacrifice and constant lifelong effort, he created redemptive works of dramatic art.
The worlds of Deadwood, of NYPD Blue and John from Cincinnati and every other dramatic world that Milch created stood opposed to the pure materiality and marketing of the mirror world. The economic and popular success Milch's shows enjoyed was outweighed in importance by the powerful and enduring effect on human consciousness of thousands of hours of dramatic entertainment which showed, and which itself is, a work of the spirit.
Prayer is how David Milch thought about his work, and stages of contemplative ascent occur in sequences of scenes. For some, an eschatological elevation of the soul occurs unexpectedly. While Milch always identified himself as a Jew, like another old friend, Kinky Friedman, he is somewhat estranged from traditional, formal practice of Judaism, as I am from the Anglican faith of my birth. My own interests and our irreligious times inclined many of us, "Christians, Jews and Sigma Nu's," as Kinky Friedman likes to say, to a semi-agnostic secularity that did not frown on prayer or the possibility of redemption. Once a fellow writer described the deity in Milch's presence as "the foul demi-urge that made this world." Milch was profoundly shocked. Not much shocked him, but his face showed unmistakable horror.
Milch was able to look with love on all the polar extremes of experience, a capacity that is especially necessary and lacking now, as times are changing. The world has a way of opposing and mistreating unusual people while the person is in the body, and so it is better they remain anonymous while within the world's reach. When they are beyond it, as David Milch now is, it is better their works be known. He was the "Rosh ha-Dor, the leader of his generation, in the spiritual sense of the person who lives in communion with God, but utilizes his power in order to draw his contemporaries upward with him.
Ted Mann is an Emmy award-winning writer who worked on NYPD Blue, Deadwood, Hatfield McCoy, and Homeland.
from: https://www.tabletmag.com/sections/arts-letters/articles/clearing-space-david-milch
#33
General JFC / Re: Mr.Milch In The News
Last post by Sven2 - July 03, 2022, 10:58:12 PMClearing a Space
David Milch is the genius behind shows like 'Deadwood' and 'NYPD Blue,' with fundamental insight into the crooked workings of humanity, and the human soul
by Tedd Mann
July 01, 2022
Clear a space," David Milch would say, and the script coordinator or the assistant assigned to transcribe Milch's dictation would hit the return on the keyboard at their desk, creating a blank space on Milch's monitor, empty of all words and images and any trace evidence of prior creations.
Milch has a chronically bad back. He lies on the floor as he works, surrounded by annotated script pages and printouts of the current draft of his work in progress, weaving stories in and out of each other in midair. He performs this work before a silent audience of aspiring writers; paid interns, for payroll purposes.
Milch is a friend and professional colleague I've had the good fortune to work with many times over the last 40 years. He has written and produced hundreds of hours of popular dramatic entertainment, initially for broadcast TV, later for the cable network HBO. Milch's shows, like NYPD Blue, which he created with Stephen Bochco, and Deadwood, were popular and commercially successful, but they were even more influential than their popularity would suggest, often appealing to those who don't normally watch popular media. I loved working with David, not only because he was a line-level genius, but because of his insight into the crooked workings of humanity, which he understood fully, with love.
There's no guarantee of popular success for writers, especially writers of genius; writing is a calling, a vocation. For some, it's a curse. It's not a choice, except for the hobbyist. In David Milch's case, his survival depended on the work, and the work depended on prayer.
Other writers and journalists often asked Milch about his "process," or writer's methodology. Writing is a mixture of craft and inspiration around which professional writers often construct elaborate superstitious rituals, just as athletes frequently do. Milch always replied truthfully that his "process" was his reliance on prayer.
Prayer is indispensable to Milch in his work and in his life. Milch works every day, and he prays every day. His sense of the possibility of a world beyond the one we see on an everyday basis is essential to his art, and to his judgments of men. Even his memorably foul-mouthed demystifying creations like Andy Sipowicz on NYPD Blue or Al Swearengen from Deadwood, who were so often taken as Milch's own alter-egos, were in constant conversation with the beyond. Inventing characters, he knew whether the soul of a man had passed through previous transmigrations or whether it was one of the "new souls."
As a result of birth, his genius, and despite, or because of his sexual abuse, Milch was destined for a top spot in the mirror world. He might truly have run nations, operated vast covert financial networks, made and broken lesser men. He could have created and captured industries. The kingdoms of the world were on offer, in line with the capacities that were his birthright, and which had been nurtured in him by the traumas and other advantages of his upbringing. Instead, Milch felt called to the work that would save his life, and which benefit our world in ways most of us are unable to really see.
David Milch's father was a prominent Buffalo physician—a surgical innovator, the respected and successful head of his department at the principal hospital of that then-thriving upstate city. Milch's mother was, according to her son, politically progressive. During his childhood, she was occupied with the improvement by education of the lot of working people; as head of the Buffalo school board, she was preoccupied with that task.
Many of Dr. Milch's patients were "successful Buffalo businessmen" who had prospered greatly in prohibition, and after WWII, were actively engaged in the modernization of bookmaking, loan sharking, prostitution and new gambling enterprises in Havana, Cuba, and later, after Cuba's revolution, with building Las Vegas. Milch recalls his childhood home as often filled with convalescing gangsters under Dr. Milch's care. He also noted that their delicate cardiac conditions often correlated with congressional hearings on organized crime, which the convalescent wiseguys watched with much amusement, their comments providing an education for the young boy in the ways of the real world. "I had one great-uncle we had to visit outside territorial waters on a boat off Florida," he recalled. "There were certain members of the family who would never be seen in public with my dad—not because he objected, but because they didn't want to screw him up."
In 1950s Buffalo, the rackets were a career so lucrative, open and accessible to all, that the work was, if not respectable, a lesser disgrace than being poor. When Meyer Lansky said, "We're bigger thant US Steel," he was being modest. If you were part of the world of OC, the mirror world, by birth or elective affinity, you knew cops and crooks were not opposite poles of a moral continuum, but rival predators. (Anyone familiar with the horrendous Whitey Bulger case in Boston will recall how the FBI partnered with Bulger's criminal faction to wipe out the previously dominant Italian mob.)
---continued
David Milch is the genius behind shows like 'Deadwood' and 'NYPD Blue,' with fundamental insight into the crooked workings of humanity, and the human soul
by Tedd Mann
July 01, 2022
Clear a space," David Milch would say, and the script coordinator or the assistant assigned to transcribe Milch's dictation would hit the return on the keyboard at their desk, creating a blank space on Milch's monitor, empty of all words and images and any trace evidence of prior creations.
Milch has a chronically bad back. He lies on the floor as he works, surrounded by annotated script pages and printouts of the current draft of his work in progress, weaving stories in and out of each other in midair. He performs this work before a silent audience of aspiring writers; paid interns, for payroll purposes.
Milch is a friend and professional colleague I've had the good fortune to work with many times over the last 40 years. He has written and produced hundreds of hours of popular dramatic entertainment, initially for broadcast TV, later for the cable network HBO. Milch's shows, like NYPD Blue, which he created with Stephen Bochco, and Deadwood, were popular and commercially successful, but they were even more influential than their popularity would suggest, often appealing to those who don't normally watch popular media. I loved working with David, not only because he was a line-level genius, but because of his insight into the crooked workings of humanity, which he understood fully, with love.
There's no guarantee of popular success for writers, especially writers of genius; writing is a calling, a vocation. For some, it's a curse. It's not a choice, except for the hobbyist. In David Milch's case, his survival depended on the work, and the work depended on prayer.
Other writers and journalists often asked Milch about his "process," or writer's methodology. Writing is a mixture of craft and inspiration around which professional writers often construct elaborate superstitious rituals, just as athletes frequently do. Milch always replied truthfully that his "process" was his reliance on prayer.
Prayer is indispensable to Milch in his work and in his life. Milch works every day, and he prays every day. His sense of the possibility of a world beyond the one we see on an everyday basis is essential to his art, and to his judgments of men. Even his memorably foul-mouthed demystifying creations like Andy Sipowicz on NYPD Blue or Al Swearengen from Deadwood, who were so often taken as Milch's own alter-egos, were in constant conversation with the beyond. Inventing characters, he knew whether the soul of a man had passed through previous transmigrations or whether it was one of the "new souls."
As a result of birth, his genius, and despite, or because of his sexual abuse, Milch was destined for a top spot in the mirror world. He might truly have run nations, operated vast covert financial networks, made and broken lesser men. He could have created and captured industries. The kingdoms of the world were on offer, in line with the capacities that were his birthright, and which had been nurtured in him by the traumas and other advantages of his upbringing. Instead, Milch felt called to the work that would save his life, and which benefit our world in ways most of us are unable to really see.
David Milch's father was a prominent Buffalo physician—a surgical innovator, the respected and successful head of his department at the principal hospital of that then-thriving upstate city. Milch's mother was, according to her son, politically progressive. During his childhood, she was occupied with the improvement by education of the lot of working people; as head of the Buffalo school board, she was preoccupied with that task.
Many of Dr. Milch's patients were "successful Buffalo businessmen" who had prospered greatly in prohibition, and after WWII, were actively engaged in the modernization of bookmaking, loan sharking, prostitution and new gambling enterprises in Havana, Cuba, and later, after Cuba's revolution, with building Las Vegas. Milch recalls his childhood home as often filled with convalescing gangsters under Dr. Milch's care. He also noted that their delicate cardiac conditions often correlated with congressional hearings on organized crime, which the convalescent wiseguys watched with much amusement, their comments providing an education for the young boy in the ways of the real world. "I had one great-uncle we had to visit outside territorial waters on a boat off Florida," he recalled. "There were certain members of the family who would never be seen in public with my dad—not because he objected, but because they didn't want to screw him up."
In 1950s Buffalo, the rackets were a career so lucrative, open and accessible to all, that the work was, if not respectable, a lesser disgrace than being poor. When Meyer Lansky said, "We're bigger thant US Steel," he was being modest. If you were part of the world of OC, the mirror world, by birth or elective affinity, you knew cops and crooks were not opposite poles of a moral continuum, but rival predators. (Anyone familiar with the horrendous Whitey Bulger case in Boston will recall how the FBI partnered with Bulger's criminal faction to wipe out the previously dominant Italian mob.)
---continued
#34
General JFC / Re: Mr.Milch In The News
Last post by Sven2 - March 25, 2022, 02:51:05 PMJohnny Carson Biopic Series Starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt From David Milch & Jay Roach Hits Marketplace
by Nellie Andreeva
March 22, 2022
EXCLUSIVE: The story of one of America's most beloved TV personalities, Johnny Carson, may finally be coming to the screen. A high-profile series, starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Carson, written by Deadwood creator David Milch and to be directed by Jay Roach, was recently taken out and has been heating up the premium marketplace. The project, titled King Of Late Night, is a co-production between wiip and Anonymous Content.
The series will follow the life and career of late-night TV pioneer Johnny Carson from New York to Los Angeles to the Las Vegas strip. King Of Late Night will reveal how Johnny's diehard connection to his audience overlapped with his lifelong desire for a basic quality of life, and how his beloved on-screen persona came into conflict with the more colorful aspects of his personal life.
Carson, who grew up in Nebraska and served in the Navy in World War II before going to college, started his career in local radio and television before transitioning to network game shows and landing NBC's The Tonight Show, which Carson hosted for 30 years, from 1962-92. Famous for his nightly on-screen presence, Carson was very private off-screen, shunning the social circuit for a personal life that included four marriages.
King Of Late Night originated about five years ago when Milch was tapped by Anonymous Content to develop it. Roach subsequently came on board, with indie studio wiip joining as co-producer and Gordon-Levitt as star. Milch had already been working on the script for a couple of years when he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 2019.
Gordon-Levitt, Milch and Roach executive produce with wiip's Paul Lee and David Flynn as well as Paul Green and Salmira Productions.
There have been multiple previous attempts to mount a Johnny Carson biopic, including a feature and an NBC miniseries, both based on Bill Zehme's book Carson The Magnificent: An Intimate Portrait, which were announced about a decade ago but did not come to fruition. On TV, the late-night host was portrayed by Rich Little in 1996 HBO film The Late Shift. Additionally, the 2017 comedy-drama series There's... Johnny!, created by Paul Reiser and David Steven Simon, takes place in the 1970s and depicts the fictional goings-on behind the scenes of The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson.
Gordon-Levitt, Milch and Roach are all multiple Emmy winners. Gordon-Levitt currently stars as Uber co-founder and former CEO Travis Kalanick in the Showtime series Super Pumped. Prior to that, he created, executive produced and headlined the Apple TV+ series Mr. Corman. His feature credits include The Trial of the Chicago 7, The Dark Knight Rises and Inception. Gordon-Levitt, who has two Emmys in the interactive programming categories, is repped by WME and Jackoway Austen Tyerman.
Milch co-created NYPD Blue and Luck, recently worked on the third installment of HBO's True Detective and on the Deadwood movie, a continuation of his cult favorite HBO drama series. Milch, who won three Emmys for NYPD Blue and one for Hill Street Blues, also just finished his memoir, Life's Work, which is slated for release in September. He is repped by ICM Partners.
Roach won four Emmys as a director and executive producer of the HBO movies Recount and Game Change. In features, he most recently directed and produced the feature Bombshell. Roach next has Apple TV+'s comedy series High Desert, which he is directing and executive producing. He is repped by WME, Mosaic and Behr Abramson Levy Johnson.
from:
https://deadline.com/2022/03/johnny-carson-series-joseph-gordon-levitt-king-of-late-night-david-milch-jay-roach-1234983801/
by Nellie Andreeva
March 22, 2022
EXCLUSIVE: The story of one of America's most beloved TV personalities, Johnny Carson, may finally be coming to the screen. A high-profile series, starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Carson, written by Deadwood creator David Milch and to be directed by Jay Roach, was recently taken out and has been heating up the premium marketplace. The project, titled King Of Late Night, is a co-production between wiip and Anonymous Content.
The series will follow the life and career of late-night TV pioneer Johnny Carson from New York to Los Angeles to the Las Vegas strip. King Of Late Night will reveal how Johnny's diehard connection to his audience overlapped with his lifelong desire for a basic quality of life, and how his beloved on-screen persona came into conflict with the more colorful aspects of his personal life.
Carson, who grew up in Nebraska and served in the Navy in World War II before going to college, started his career in local radio and television before transitioning to network game shows and landing NBC's The Tonight Show, which Carson hosted for 30 years, from 1962-92. Famous for his nightly on-screen presence, Carson was very private off-screen, shunning the social circuit for a personal life that included four marriages.
King Of Late Night originated about five years ago when Milch was tapped by Anonymous Content to develop it. Roach subsequently came on board, with indie studio wiip joining as co-producer and Gordon-Levitt as star. Milch had already been working on the script for a couple of years when he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 2019.
Gordon-Levitt, Milch and Roach executive produce with wiip's Paul Lee and David Flynn as well as Paul Green and Salmira Productions.
There have been multiple previous attempts to mount a Johnny Carson biopic, including a feature and an NBC miniseries, both based on Bill Zehme's book Carson The Magnificent: An Intimate Portrait, which were announced about a decade ago but did not come to fruition. On TV, the late-night host was portrayed by Rich Little in 1996 HBO film The Late Shift. Additionally, the 2017 comedy-drama series There's... Johnny!, created by Paul Reiser and David Steven Simon, takes place in the 1970s and depicts the fictional goings-on behind the scenes of The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson.
Gordon-Levitt, Milch and Roach are all multiple Emmy winners. Gordon-Levitt currently stars as Uber co-founder and former CEO Travis Kalanick in the Showtime series Super Pumped. Prior to that, he created, executive produced and headlined the Apple TV+ series Mr. Corman. His feature credits include The Trial of the Chicago 7, The Dark Knight Rises and Inception. Gordon-Levitt, who has two Emmys in the interactive programming categories, is repped by WME and Jackoway Austen Tyerman.
Milch co-created NYPD Blue and Luck, recently worked on the third installment of HBO's True Detective and on the Deadwood movie, a continuation of his cult favorite HBO drama series. Milch, who won three Emmys for NYPD Blue and one for Hill Street Blues, also just finished his memoir, Life's Work, which is slated for release in September. He is repped by ICM Partners.
Roach won four Emmys as a director and executive producer of the HBO movies Recount and Game Change. In features, he most recently directed and produced the feature Bombshell. Roach next has Apple TV+'s comedy series High Desert, which he is directing and executive producing. He is repped by WME, Mosaic and Behr Abramson Levy Johnson.
from:
https://deadline.com/2022/03/johnny-carson-series-joseph-gordon-levitt-king-of-late-night-david-milch-jay-roach-1234983801/
#35
General JFC / Re: DEADWOOD THE MOVIE
Last post by Sven2 - March 19, 2022, 02:43:09 PMImagine a "Deadwood" Musical With Music by Tom Waits? It Almost Happened.
Sing a song of Swearengen? Sweet!
By Tobias Carroll
In early 2004, HBO debuted a high-profile television series in the timeslot just after the show that had solidified the channel's reputation for original programming. Watching another great episode of The Sopranos immediately followed by the instant-classic Western Deadwood pretty much solidified TV's "golden age." Both shows have also had notable followups in the years since: Deadwood got a two-hour movie that tied up some loose ends from the series, while The Many Saints of Newark offered an expanded look at the history of several Sopranos characters.
There's one big difference between the two shows, however — The Sopranos never had a high-profile Broadway adaptation. To be fair, Deadwood didn't, either — but apparently, we were a lot closer to seeing one than anyone knew. Even more intriguing was the prospect of who might have written the music for it: none other than Tom Waits.
This nugget of information comes from culture writer Matt Zoller Seitz, who has covered Deadwood for pretty much as long as Deadwood has existed — and who has an expansive new book on the show due out later this year. It was while discussing the book on Twitter that Seitz revealed the musical version of Deadwood that almost was.
"[A]ccording to the family, at some point after the cancellation of the show, David Milch talked to Tom Waits about doing a musical version for broadway," Seitz wrote.
Seitz later clarified that Milch talking with Waits was as much as he knew about the project. But one can only imagine what might have been — and, after all, it's not like Waits hasn't done work for the stage before. "Swearengen's Wild Years," anyone?
from:
https://www.insidehook.com/daily_brief/television/deadwood-musical-music-tom-waits
Sing a song of Swearengen? Sweet!
By Tobias Carroll
In early 2004, HBO debuted a high-profile television series in the timeslot just after the show that had solidified the channel's reputation for original programming. Watching another great episode of The Sopranos immediately followed by the instant-classic Western Deadwood pretty much solidified TV's "golden age." Both shows have also had notable followups in the years since: Deadwood got a two-hour movie that tied up some loose ends from the series, while The Many Saints of Newark offered an expanded look at the history of several Sopranos characters.
There's one big difference between the two shows, however — The Sopranos never had a high-profile Broadway adaptation. To be fair, Deadwood didn't, either — but apparently, we were a lot closer to seeing one than anyone knew. Even more intriguing was the prospect of who might have written the music for it: none other than Tom Waits.
This nugget of information comes from culture writer Matt Zoller Seitz, who has covered Deadwood for pretty much as long as Deadwood has existed — and who has an expansive new book on the show due out later this year. It was while discussing the book on Twitter that Seitz revealed the musical version of Deadwood that almost was.
"[A]ccording to the family, at some point after the cancellation of the show, David Milch talked to Tom Waits about doing a musical version for broadway," Seitz wrote.
Seitz later clarified that Milch talking with Waits was as much as he knew about the project. But one can only imagine what might have been — and, after all, it's not like Waits hasn't done work for the stage before. "Swearengen's Wild Years," anyone?
from:
https://www.insidehook.com/daily_brief/television/deadwood-musical-music-tom-waits
#36
General JFC / Re: Poetry Almanac
Last post by Sven2 - March 08, 2022, 11:15:54 PM "A bridge used to be there, someone recalled"
A bridge used to be there, someone recalled,
before the war:
an old pedestrian bridge.
The patrol passes every five hours.
Evening will be dry and pleasant.
Two older guys, and a young one.
He read twilight like a book,
rejoice, he repeated to himself, be joyful:
you'll still sleep
in your bed today.
Today you'll still wake up in a room
listening carefully to your body.
Today you'll still be looking at the steel mill
standing idle all summer.
Home that is always with you like a sin.
Parents that will never grow older.
Today you'll still see one of your people,
whomever you call your people.
He recalled the city he'd escaped from,
the scorched terrain he searched by hand.
He recalled a weeping man
saved by the squad.
Life will be quiet, not terrifying.
He should have returned a while ago.
What could happen to him, exactly?
What could happen?
The patrol will let him through,
and god will forgive.
God's got other things to do.
They all were killed at once—both older guys,
and the young one.
Silence between the riverbanks.
You won't explain anything to anyone.
The bomb landed right between them—
on that riverbank
closer to home.
The moon appeared between clouds,
listened to the melody of insects.
A quiet, sleepy medic
loaded the bodies into a military truck.
He quarreled with his stick shift.
Sought the leftover poison in a first-aid kit.
And an English-speaking observer
expertly looked at the corpses.
Even tan.
Nervous mouth.
He closed the eyes of the young one.
He thought to himself: a strange people,
the locals.
2019
--Serhiy Zhadan
Translated by John Hennessy and Ostap Kin
A bridge used to be there, someone recalled,
before the war:
an old pedestrian bridge.
The patrol passes every five hours.
Evening will be dry and pleasant.
Two older guys, and a young one.
He read twilight like a book,
rejoice, he repeated to himself, be joyful:
you'll still sleep
in your bed today.
Today you'll still wake up in a room
listening carefully to your body.
Today you'll still be looking at the steel mill
standing idle all summer.
Home that is always with you like a sin.
Parents that will never grow older.
Today you'll still see one of your people,
whomever you call your people.
He recalled the city he'd escaped from,
the scorched terrain he searched by hand.
He recalled a weeping man
saved by the squad.
Life will be quiet, not terrifying.
He should have returned a while ago.
What could happen to him, exactly?
What could happen?
The patrol will let him through,
and god will forgive.
God's got other things to do.
They all were killed at once—both older guys,
and the young one.
Silence between the riverbanks.
You won't explain anything to anyone.
The bomb landed right between them—
on that riverbank
closer to home.
The moon appeared between clouds,
listened to the melody of insects.
A quiet, sleepy medic
loaded the bodies into a military truck.
He quarreled with his stick shift.
Sought the leftover poison in a first-aid kit.
And an English-speaking observer
expertly looked at the corpses.
Even tan.
Nervous mouth.
He closed the eyes of the young one.
He thought to himself: a strange people,
the locals.
2019
--Serhiy Zhadan
Translated by John Hennessy and Ostap Kin
#37
General JFC / Re: Mr.Milch In The News
Last post by Sven2 - February 04, 2022, 01:56:00 PMDavid Milch to Address Gambling Addiction, Alzheimer's Diagnosis in New Memoir
The 'Deadwood' and 'NYPD Blue' creator's autobiography, 'Life's Work,' will be published by Random House on Sept. 13, 2022.
By Seth Abramovitch
February 1, 2022 10:32am
David Milch, the Emmy- and Peabody Award-winning writer and creator of NYPD Blue and Deadwood, will trace his bumpy personal journey in Life's Work, a new memoir set to be published by Random House on Sept. 13, 2022.
The book, from a "noted heroin and gambling addict," a statement from Random House says, features "a ferocious mind [grappling] with the bewildering effects of Alzheimer's by looking back, making what sense he can of a life of addiction, recovery, loss and creation, abuse and life-saving kindness, and the increasingly strange present and future he now faces."
Milch, 76, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 2019 after he began to notice "imperfect recall and tardy recall and short temper" in himself. The diagnosis led him to dial back his involvement in the then-filming Deadwood movie.
A 2016 Hollywood Reporter cover story detailed how Milch, a former English literature professor at Yale, lost approximately $100 million to a crippling gambling addiction. He was a regular at Santa Anita racetrack — the location of his ill-fated HBO series Luck, canceled after one season following the death of three horses used in the series.
In the 1980s, Milch battled what he once told an MIT communications forum was a "bitter" heroin addiction.
"From the writer whose work changed our understanding of what television could be, this is a memoir about the transformative power of art, effort, collaboration, and family, and what holds on as you lose it all," says Random House.
from:
https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/tv/tv-news/david-milch-memoir-gambling-alzheimers-1235085191/
The 'Deadwood' and 'NYPD Blue' creator's autobiography, 'Life's Work,' will be published by Random House on Sept. 13, 2022.
By Seth Abramovitch
February 1, 2022 10:32am
David Milch, the Emmy- and Peabody Award-winning writer and creator of NYPD Blue and Deadwood, will trace his bumpy personal journey in Life's Work, a new memoir set to be published by Random House on Sept. 13, 2022.
The book, from a "noted heroin and gambling addict," a statement from Random House says, features "a ferocious mind [grappling] with the bewildering effects of Alzheimer's by looking back, making what sense he can of a life of addiction, recovery, loss and creation, abuse and life-saving kindness, and the increasingly strange present and future he now faces."
Milch, 76, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 2019 after he began to notice "imperfect recall and tardy recall and short temper" in himself. The diagnosis led him to dial back his involvement in the then-filming Deadwood movie.
A 2016 Hollywood Reporter cover story detailed how Milch, a former English literature professor at Yale, lost approximately $100 million to a crippling gambling addiction. He was a regular at Santa Anita racetrack — the location of his ill-fated HBO series Luck, canceled after one season following the death of three horses used in the series.
In the 1980s, Milch battled what he once told an MIT communications forum was a "bitter" heroin addiction.
"From the writer whose work changed our understanding of what television could be, this is a memoir about the transformative power of art, effort, collaboration, and family, and what holds on as you lose it all," says Random House.
from:
https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/tv/tv-news/david-milch-memoir-gambling-alzheimers-1235085191/
#38
General JFC / Re: Poetry Almanac
Last post by Sven2 - January 09, 2022, 02:38:59 PMWeather Forecast
The spirit of rebellion
also called hopelessness
has begun another sinister round.
His dark and cold come straight from hell.
I was expecting happy days from May,
but so far the only sunny thing was Albertina's news
that she was chosen to sing "Jesus is the bread of heaven."
That's bread without butter, Albertina,
just so you know.
We eat it with bitter herbs.
--Adelia Prado
translated by Ellen Dore Watson
The spirit of rebellion
also called hopelessness
has begun another sinister round.
His dark and cold come straight from hell.
I was expecting happy days from May,
but so far the only sunny thing was Albertina's news
that she was chosen to sing "Jesus is the bread of heaven."
That's bread without butter, Albertina,
just so you know.
We eat it with bitter herbs.
--Adelia Prado
translated by Ellen Dore Watson
#39
General JFC / Re: Poetry Almanac
Last post by Sven2 - January 02, 2022, 10:56:55 PMSecond Nature, Bon Iver
Is this our first? Or second nature?
When's that rapture? Will there be merch?
Where is mother? She was a stunner, can we page her?
What my eyes have seen could really take the purse
Are we charged now? Or are we fakers?
Parade around or get in work? Or just desert?
We will see you next time
There'll be water in the rain
Territories pay fines
All long day (Say it will be! Say it will be!)
All may not be just fine! (All long day!)
There is another fate away
To not be too late and obfuscate
Is this our fault? And are we just too damn used to it
The cypher too elusive, that tale, it just won't stop
You could be vaguely on top, strike the key, lay down the mop
As if endings ain't endings and feet they just won't drop
Ain't this real-time? And aren't we takers?
You want what's more and don't excuse
And just refuse
We will see you next time (Is this mercy?)
They'll be water in the rain
Territories pay fines
All long day (Say it with me! Say it with me!)
All may not be just fine! (All long day!)
There is another fate away
To not be too late
We will see you next time
There'll be water in the rain
Territories pay fines
All long day (Say it with me! Say it with me!)
All may not be just fine! (All long day!)
There is another fate away
To not be too late and obfuscate
-- Songwriters Justin Vernon / Nicholas Britell
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YrVxcQp0SR0
Is this our first? Or second nature?
When's that rapture? Will there be merch?
Where is mother? She was a stunner, can we page her?
What my eyes have seen could really take the purse
Are we charged now? Or are we fakers?
Parade around or get in work? Or just desert?
We will see you next time
There'll be water in the rain
Territories pay fines
All long day (Say it will be! Say it will be!)
All may not be just fine! (All long day!)
There is another fate away
To not be too late and obfuscate
Is this our fault? And are we just too damn used to it
The cypher too elusive, that tale, it just won't stop
You could be vaguely on top, strike the key, lay down the mop
As if endings ain't endings and feet they just won't drop
Ain't this real-time? And aren't we takers?
You want what's more and don't excuse
And just refuse
We will see you next time (Is this mercy?)
They'll be water in the rain
Territories pay fines
All long day (Say it with me! Say it with me!)
All may not be just fine! (All long day!)
There is another fate away
To not be too late
We will see you next time
There'll be water in the rain
Territories pay fines
All long day (Say it with me! Say it with me!)
All may not be just fine! (All long day!)
There is another fate away
To not be too late and obfuscate
-- Songwriters Justin Vernon / Nicholas Britell
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YrVxcQp0SR0
#40
General JFC / Re: Poetry Almanac
Last post by Sven2 - January 01, 2022, 02:51:10 PM Incantation of the First Order
Listen, no one signed up for this lullaby.
No bleeped sheep or rosebuds or twitching stars
will diminish the fear or save you from waking
into the same day you dreamed of leaving—
mockingbird on back order, morning bells
stuck on snooze—so you might as well
get up and at it, pestilence be damned.
Peril and risk having become relative,
I'll try to couch this in positive terms:
Never! is the word of last resorts,
Always! the fanatic's rallying cry.
To those inclined toward kindness, I say
Come out of your houses drumming. All others,
beware: I have discarded my smile but not my teeth.
--Rita Dove
Listen, no one signed up for this lullaby.
No bleeped sheep or rosebuds or twitching stars
will diminish the fear or save you from waking
into the same day you dreamed of leaving—
mockingbird on back order, morning bells
stuck on snooze—so you might as well
get up and at it, pestilence be damned.
Peril and risk having become relative,
I'll try to couch this in positive terms:
Never! is the word of last resorts,
Always! the fanatic's rallying cry.
To those inclined toward kindness, I say
Come out of your houses drumming. All others,
beware: I have discarded my smile but not my teeth.
--Rita Dove
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