Showing posts with label lawyers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lawyers. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

My Zen Is Like Mickey Mouse





















My Zen Is Like Mickey Mouse

“In perpetuity and throughout the universe.”

I’ve always loved the poetry of that phrase.
How simply and elegantly it covers…
Everything.

Very zen!

It is also, on a personal level,
Very evocative to me,
As it reminds me of the years
I worked for Walt Disney Feature Animation.

You see, that’s what my Disney contract actually said,
“In perpetuity and throughout the universe.”
Meaning the company owned 
The work I produced for them 
Throughout the cosmos and for all time.

Forever and ever and everywhere.

I suppose that’s in case
I try to collect royalties from  
Martians of the future who
Land on earth and demand
To see Beauty and the Beast!

But you know lawyers.
Especially Disney lawyers.
They’re very thorough.

“So what?” I said. “I’m an artist!” 
I wanted to make 
Cartoons for Walt Disney,
The biggest damn cartoon-maker there ever was!

So I signed on the dotted line.

Of course, I never met Mr Disney,
Who died in 1966.
I’m old but not that old.

I worked there from 1989 until 2004.
Fifteen years.
The second golden age 
Of hand-drawn animation, 
It’s been called.
Although I don’t think I can seriously
Take all the credit for that one.

Maybe I was a small part of it.
Who knows?
A big thing is often made 
Of smaller things, is it not?

While working for Disney
I drew everything from 
Roger Rabbit losing his lunch…
To the little bear cub Koda…
Who loses his mother.

“Just like Bambi!” I used to brag,
Remembering that famous scene
Of a father explaining why a mother, 
“… can’t be with you, anymore.”

I don’t know about you, 
But that scene from Bambi
Still makes me cry today.
Hmmmm. 
I wonder.
Have I worked on a scene
That made you cry?
Or laugh?
Or squeeze a loved one’s hand 
In the dark with excitement?

At Disney, there’s a lot of tradition
Behind every animated movie.
Almost a century of progressive filmmaking.
Over sixty animated features.
Uncountable hours of labor by
Generations of talented employees.
Think of it…

Millions upon millions of drawings!

That’s a lot to live up to
And sometimes it weighs heavily
Upon those who make these movies today.
They try so hard!

It was here that I learned, btw,
The most important lesson an artist can learn…
To trust yourself.

I loved them all,
My pencil’s creations!
As you should love your children.
But I have three special favorites
From my days at Disney.
They are Khan the horse from Mulan,
Whom I love for his beauty and strength.
Stitch the experiment from Lilo and Stitch,
Whom I love for his appeal and sense of fun.
And Mickey Mouse, the little guy who started it all,
Whom I’ve loved since I was a child,
For his bravery and humanity.

Which is maybe a funny thing to say
About a mouse.
His humanity.
But that’s the magic 
Of Disney animation, isn’t it?

Between features sometime in the early 1990s 
I finally got to work with Mickey. 
I drew him dancing with a German supermodel 
While endorsing an orange-flavored soda pop. 
A commercial.
Made for the European market. 
Never shown in America.

But still I worked with Mickey Mouse!

Luckily, he was a good dancer,
Because I cannot dance worth a darn.
He was a good actor too,
Which made it easier.
Claudia Schiffer, the German supermodel 
He danced with in the commercial, 
Said he was a good kisser, as well.

Which doesn’t surprise me.
Mickey always brings his “A” game!

He was difficult to draw though.
At least he was for me.
You had to get him just right
Or he didn’t look like Mickey Mouse at all.

And you know what?
When I worked with him I discovered 
That he was even nicer in person 
Than he is in the movies!

The really big stars 
Are like that, they say.
Hard working… 
Kind… 
Considerate of others…

Which reminds me of my zen.
And the reason I began this poem.
May I compare my zen 
To that great actor, dancer and kisser,
Mickey Mouse?

My zen is hard working, 
Like Mickey is,
Because work is love… 
And without it nothing is achieved.
My zen is kind, 
Like Mickey is, 
Because it’s not how smart 
We are that matters… 
But how kind we can be. 
My zen has consideration for others, 
As Mickey does,
Because even a cartoon mouse knows…

Without consideration for others you are just an asshole. 

Finally, my zen helps me understand 
My place in the scheme of things.
That I should try to be happy
And not worry too much 
About living in a world 
I cannot control… 
But must not fear!

That life is short 
And ought to be funny.
Just like a Mickey Mouse cartoon.

Yes, my zen is very much
Like Mickey Mouse.
Even more so than I thought
When I began this poem.
Which doesn’t surprise me.
That’s one of the reasons
I like writing them…
Anything can happen
In my search to express my zen,
So that I might,
With love and respect, 
Set it before you.

And let’s not forget the poetry
Of such wonderful phrases as
“In perpetuity and throughout the universe.”

Which makes me laugh.
As my zen commands I should!

Thank you, Mickey.
You make me laugh too.
You always have.
I love you.

Take care.


Friday, September 18, 2015

Hundreds of Chimpanzees

I had a particularly disagreeable conversation with my publisher last night. 
The Company wants me to deliver my next book in time for Christmas.
“Christmas?” I whined, “that’s six months ahead of schedule!” 
I always end up whining when I talk with my publisher. That, or crying.
“So what?” she said. “We need it by then, it’s as simple as that. If you must know the writer whose book was supposed to go out for Christmas shot himself yesterday…”
“What?” I interupted. “Shot himself? Who?”
“… and we need a replacement in a hurry. Never mind who it was. It was nobody you knew.” 
That was probably true. They keep us writers apart as much as possible, to stop us getting together and plotting for better conditions or more money. I made a mental note to check later for writer obituaries on the internet.
“The Company expects you to step up and earn all that money they pay you, Mr Pliers.”
She didn’t usually call me Mr anything. That made me suspicious.
“What money?” I asked. “I haven’t been paid for my last book yet!”
“That’s a matter for the courts to decide,” she reminded me agreeably.
I mumbled something nasty about lawyers under my breath.
“I wish you’d learn to write a better first draft,” she complained. “We can hardly make any sense of it out here!” Rewrites on my latest manuscript go poorly, she added, and the pressure’s on her to show immediate improvement.
The Company doesn’t tolerate failure of any kind, she reminded me.
“That’s not my problem,” I answered agreeably. “Besides, now’s your chance to step up and earn all that money the Company’s paying you.”
She laughed and it was like acid pouring into my ears.
“Touché,” she said softly.
According to Company financial analyzers, after the first draft I as a writer am not fiscally viable, being too slow, so the Company doesn’t allow me to rewrite my own material anymore, preferring instead for me to get on with the next book while they trust rewriting to cost-effective interning teenage ghostwriters, and the eggheads downstairs who are trying to come up with a computer program to replace me. 
That, and the remote possibility that one of the hundreds of chimpanzees they have locked in the basement with Apple computers will actually come up with a novel worthy of Rusty Pliers. 
Ha! That’s a laugh! 
So far, all those damned monkeys have come up with is a couple of short stories slightly reminiscent of Haruki Murakami.
“Maybe the Company should hire better rewrite people,” I suggested. “Or smarter chimps.”
That only made her angry. She started to tear me a new one.
So I hung up on her. 
This is no time for listening to her insults, I figured. I’ve got to get back to work. 
I’ve got a lot to do if I’m going to finish my first draft in time for Christmas.