Posts by: Beth Navarro
I’m pretty happy with the ideas I have so far. In going over them, I realize that there are sure to be some people, maybe even some organizations, that will absolutely hate my show. I think this is a good sign.
The Beginning: While I Still have my Ideals “I wanted to write the greatest pilot ever,” he admits. “That was my ambition. I wanted it to be profound, and I wanted it be be true, and it wanted it to be about a man my age and what I was interested in: Who [...]
Day one: A Contract with Myself (and you are my witnesses) Alright so not really day one, I’ve been thinking about this for the last six months probably, but this day I’m actually doing something about it. I’m going to create a television show. Not only a television show, but a hit television show [...]
I want to live in a song the way I wanted to live in cartoons when I was a kid. Cartoons really had things nailed. Superhero style running, the anvil to the head, Pepe Le peu’s kisses. Nothing looked better than that freakin’ drumstick on the Flintstones. Am I right? The way coffee and [...]
More nervous than I thought I’d be. How to get past the enormous elephant in the room…but the moment I see him the nervousness melts away. The not-so-happy memories don’t matter. Here sits one of the most talented musicians I’ve ever heard and I’m determined to get more people aboard the Jason Whitton train.
1. Sweet Disposition-The Temper Trap
You blindly fell for this amazing stranger while waiting for your egg croissant sandwich at your favorite strip mall donut shop. The spark. The hope. The instant connection. This Australian band captures the feeling of first falling in love magically.
“No one became a rock star by accident or against their will,” Goldberg writes. They may be artists, but they wanted to make money and it maddened him when he couldn’t help all he loved to do that.
I am retired grunge girl who now dabbles in housewifery. The angst coveting girl in flannel and cut-off grey sweats who listened to Nirvana, The Cure and Violent Femmes was left in the mid-nineties. Since then I had been looking for something. Music that excited me the way Smells like Teen Spirit had when I first heard it. The way The Pixies Bone Machine made me crave Japanese fast food. And though my torment had morphed from wild and dramatic teen agony to a quieter rebellion, I still needed a voice for it. I needed angst with
