Matthew David Curry's Blog, page 3

Indra

I’ve been busy writing for the past several months, so I haven’t drawn much. The other night, my new friend Indra asked me to draw her picture. So I did. It felt so good to draw again.

Caffeine Overload

A drawing from last year.

Alara

Lately, I’ve been watching a new show called The Orville, a comedy version of Star Trek: the Next Generation. It’s one of my favorite shows now. The other night, I drew a picture of Alara, a character played by Halston Sage.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Under the Electric Sun

I recently drew a new cover design for Under the Electric Sun, the science fiction novel I wrote back in 2012. I was never happy with the earlier cover. Here is a photo of the new version. No, I didn’t put greasy Saran Wrap over the camera lens. I took this picture with my prepaid cellphone, a tedious little device that demands to be recharged twice a day. Sometimes, you just do the best you can.

Under the Electric Sun is available in paperback for $6. The Kindle version is 99 cents. You can click here to order.

I hope you’re enjoying the cool weather — if you happen to live in this part of the world. Have a lovely weekend.

Show Me The Letter

Budget Rage

Dear Hollywood

Dear Hollywood,

I loved the computer-generated special effects when I first saw Terminator 2. For a long time, I thought computer effects looked spectacular and impressive. But something changed over the years. Maybe the digital material became too surreal and cartoonish. Or maybe I got older and lost my sense of wonder. Whatever the reason, I’ve reached the point where I cringe every time I see digital effects. It looks as if someone sprinkled pieces of a PlayStation 2 game into the movie.

The artists who create these effects are obviously talented, brilliant people. I respect them. I admire their skill. I’m not trying to insult their work. But I’m tired of “video game movies.” Can we please go back to practical special effects now? I want to see something that looks real and solid again.

Thank you for reading.

Matthew

Jodie Whittaker is amazing, but why do you have to ruin the surprise?

I’m excited that a woman will be playing the Doctor. Jodie Whittaker looks like a perfect fit. Her eyes are intelligent, mysterious, and otherworldly. She’s so Doctorish. I’m glad the show is moving in a new direction.

I’m also happy Chris Chibnall is taking over as showrunner. The program has grown a little bit stale over the last few years. Steven Moffat isn’t a bad writer, but his episodes feel like reheated leftovers to me. And most of his season finales left me more confused than satisfied.

(But I did love the 2015 season, especially the finale. Heaven Sent and Hell Bent were solid gold masterpieces. My heart rate surged when the Doctor finally returned to Gallifrey. He stood the desert, squinting his eyes. He bent down and told the little boy, “Go to the city. Find somebody important. Tell them I’m back. Tell them I know what they did. And I’m on my way. And if they ask who I am, tell them I came the long way round.”)

I don’t have a problem with a woman playing the Doctor, but I do have a problem with the BBC announcing the new actor ahead of time. Don’t tell me what’s going to happen. Don’t tell me who the next Doctor will be. Surprise me. That’s what good TV shows are supposed to do.

I was nine years old when I first saw the Doctor regenerate. I had no idea who the next Doctor would be. I didn’t even know he was going to regenerate. In fact, I had never even heard of regeneration. I was sitting in my dark living room floor on a Saturday night, staring up at the TV screen. I watched the Doctor run through a bleak wasteland carrying Peri in his arms. He staggered into the Tardis and dropped her. He slumped over the console and hit a few buttons, wheezing and panting. Then he collapsed on the smooth, white floor. He closed his eyes. Then his face began to glow. Psychedelic colors and lights flashed and swirled around him. Visions of his old companions appeared in the air and circled around him.

When the Doctor sat up again, he had a new face. And curly hair. It wasn’t Peter Davison anymore. It was Colin Baker.

I ran into the kitchen and told my mother that the Doctor had just turned into someone else. She laughed. The next day, a friend of mine explained what had happened.

It would be nice if the Doctor’s regeneration still came out of the blue with no warning at all. It would be nice if the BBC didn’t ruin the surprise for me.

***

You can click here to check out my latest book on Amazon. Drake Novak is a malevolent alien who draws his energy from the pain and suffering of other life forms. He comes to Earth in a stolen ship, takes over a factory, and keeps all the workers in abject misery. He soaks up their sadness the way a plant absorbs sunlight. Then the Galactic Precinct sends a young rookie cop to arrest Drake Novak. But when Malpheus Mallock arrives on Earth, his tracking device stops working. He lands on the front lawn of an elderly couple named Carl and Christine. They feed him fried chicken and mashed potatoes. They show him baseball games on TV. The whole time, Malpheus struggles to find Drake Novak. 

Jodie Whittaker is Amazing, But Why Do You Have to Ruin the Surprise?

I’m excited that a woman will be playing the Doctor. Jodie Whittaker looks like a perfect fit. Her eyes are intelligent, mysterious, and otherworldly. She’s so Doctorish. I’m glad the show is moving in a new direction.

I’m also happy Chris Chibnall is taking over as showrunner. The program has grown a little bit stale over the last few years. Steven Moffat isn’t a bad writer, but his episodes feel like reheated leftovers to me. And most of his season finales left me more confused than satisfied.

(But I did love the 2015 season, especially the finale. Heaven Sent and Hell Bent were solid gold masterpieces. My heart rate surged when the Doctor finally returned to Gallifrey. He stood the desert, squinting his eyes. He bent down and told the little boy, “Go to the city. Find somebody important. Tell them I’m back. Tell them I know what they did. And I’m on my way. And if they ask who I am, tell them I came the long way round.”)

I don’t have a problem with a woman playing the Doctor, but I do have a problem with the way the BBC announces the new actor ahead of time. Don’t tell me what’s going to happen. Don’t tell me who the next actor will be. Surprise me. That’s what good TV shows are supposed to do.

I was nine years old when I first saw the Doctor regenerate. I had no idea who the next Doctor would be. I didn’t even know he was going to regenerate. In fact, I had never even heard of regeneration. I was sitting in my dark living room floor on a Saturday night, staring up at the TV screen. I watched the Doctor run through a bleak wasteland carrying Peri in his arms. He staggered into the Tardis and dropped her. He slumped over the console and hit a few buttons, wheezing and panting. Then he collapsed on the smooth, white floor and closed his eyes. Then his face began to glow. Psychedelic colors and lights flashed and swirled around him. Visions of his old companions appeared in the air and circled around him.

When the Doctor sat up again, he had a new face. And curly hair. It wasn’t Peter Davison anymore. It was Colin Baker.

I ran into the kitchen and told my mother that the Doctor had just turned into someone else. She laughed. The next day, a friend of mine explained what had happened.

It would be nice if regeneration still came completely out of the blue like that. It would be great if the show surprised me instead of telling me in advance what was going to happen.

***

You can click here to check out my latest book on Amazon. Drake Novak is a malevolent alien who draws his energy from the pain and suffering of other life forms. He comes to Earth in a stolen ship, takes over a factory, and keeps all the workers in abject misery. He soaks up their sadness the way a plant absorbs sunlight. Then the Galactic Precinct sends a young rookie cop to arrest Drake Novak. But when Malpheus Mallock arrives on Earth, his tracking device stops working. He lands on the front lawn of an elderly couple named Carl and Christine. They feed him fried chicken and mashed potatoes. They show him baseball games on TV. The whole time, Malpheus struggles to find Drake Novak. 

Bob Ross

“It’s like anything else. It takes a little practice. Chances are, you didn’t drive the car real well the first time you tried. But with a little practice, you got very good at it. Of course, the other day, I met a driver I think had never done more than that first time. He almost ran me off the road.”

– Bob Ross

The Joy of Painting

Season 23, episode 2