Sunday, January 3, 2016

#NewYearsResolutionComicBook Day #1: Kid Cthulhu, Daredevil and Raphael

Comic Book #1: DC Sneak Peek: New Suicide Squad #1

Character #1: Kid Cthulhu

An Australian, gunslinging bushranger who has a first hand knowledge of Lovecraftian dark magic. he uses guns and spells to protect colonialists from the various monsters and unholy entities that are showing up with free settlers from around the world.

Conversation #1: Daredevil and Raphael (Disclaimer - Formatting went apeshit, so please bare with me. It looked like a proper script when I wrote it but now the formatting is all over the place. I fixed it and hopefully you can read it okay)


Sitting on the ledge of a building sits DAREDEVIL in full vigilante costume, nursing his ribs. Sitting beside him, polishing his weapon is one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, RAPHAEL. Between them is an opened pizza box showing a half peperoni and half vegetarian pizza. They are looking down onto the street where the super villain LIZARD is tied to a Stop-Sign.

Hey horn head. Pass me a slice? 

DAREDEVIL reaches towards the pizza and pauses.



DAREDEVIL’S hand hovers over a slice of vegetarian. He breathes in the air and then picks up a slice of peperoni before handing it to RAPHAEL.

As RAPHAEL takes a bite, DAREDEVIL picks up another slice and takes a bite himself. After a minute or two of chewing...

I’m probably going to have to go 
and see Stephen. See if he can’t 
reset these broken ribs. 


RAPHAEL gives DAREDEVIL a silent, blank look.

Stephen Strange? Doctor Strange? 
The Sorcerer Supreme? 

Nope. Sorry. 

He’s a sorcerer. Used to be a 

Right. Getcha. 

NOW you get me. 

Hey! I said I was sorry about the 
mix up. 

Mix up? A full ninja kick to my 
ribs? That’s what you call a mix up 
where you’re from? 

I said sorry. 

Not to mention you’re interference 
nearly let Connors get away. 

Well, how was I supposed to know? 

I am a pretty well known hero 
around Hell’s Kitchen. 

I’m not from Hell’s Kitchen. 

No kidding. 

You can’t exactly blame me. 

Yes I can. 


Sure I can. Try asking questions 
next time, before you just ninja 
kick a guy. Ask first. Then kick. 

I didn’t really have time to ask 
questions. You two were beating 
crap outta each other. 

We weren’t beating crap out of each 
other. I was attempting to 

And you’re dressed like the devil. 

Ahhh... Because I’m Daredevil. 

I know that NOW. But you can’t 
blame me for thinking the guy in 
the devil costume is the bad guy. 

Yes, but-- 

And you were fighting a green 
mutant in a lab coat! 


As far as I knew, he coulda been my 
brother Donny! 

But he wasn’t. 

He coulda been. 

But he wasn’t. 

Coulda been. 

He wasn’t. 

Coulda been. And you dress like a 
bad guy. 

I don’t. 

Yes you do. 

No I-- 

You do. 

Okay. Okay. Enough. I don’t want to 
argue. I don’t want to argue. 

The two heroes sit and chew on their pizza in silence, looking down at the struggling LIZARD.

How long til the cops get here? 

I can hear them coming. They’re 
about ten blocks away. 

You can hear that from here? 

I can. 

You have super powers? You’re not 
just some guy in a Halloween 

You can say that. 


Well what?

What are your powers? Super 
hearing? That all? 


So, what else? 

Nothing that special. 

You holding out on me? 


What about you? 

What about me? 

You’re obviously trained in ninjutsu. 


And you’re not a man dressed as a 
turtle. You’re the real thing. 


A mutant.

Look at the big brain on the Devil.

You’ve been trained by Wolverine? 

I don’t know any mutant wolverines. 

No? The X-Men? 

The X-who-now? 

Wolverine and the X-Men. 

Look, you’re a low level ninja 
yourself. Were you trained by a 
mutant wolverine and a group of 
transgendered women? 


Okay. Drop it. 

The two heroes sit in silence for a minute. The police sirens are now close enough that RAPHAEL can hear.

And I’m no expert, but they 
probably don’t like being called 
ex-men by the way. 



Three police cars screech to a halt around LIZARD. Police men leap out of their cars, guns drawn. RAPHAEL gets to his feet. DAREDEVIL follows.

Well, I better get the rest of this 
pizza back to my brothers. Mikey’s 
gonna give me an earful because 
it’s getting cold. 


It’s been real. 

Yes. It really has. 

RAPHAEL and DAREDEVIL just stand silently "looking" at each other.

What? You need a hug or something?

Ahhh... no. 

Right. See ya. 

RAPHAEL turns and runs, leaping into the shadows and disappears.

DAREDEVIL reaches out with his echo location until RAPHAEL is lost in the hustle bustle of the city night life. He then turns back to LIZARD who is being hauled away.

DAREDEVIL shakes his head.

What a night.

DAREDEVIL leaps off the roof, grabs hold of a flagpole and swings off into the night.

Thursday, December 31, 2015

New Years Resolutions for 2016

So, the end of another year. Comes and goes so quick.

And with the closing of a year, comes the inevitable New Year's Resolutions.

I know, I know. Everyone has been chanting the mantra "New year, new me, new year, new me" for about a week now. And as much as I'd like to make a resolution to get thin, read the Bible more, stop swearing or drinking... let's be realistic here... That's not gonna last more than a week.

So what am I gonna Resolutionise for 2016?

I'll tell you in a minute.

2015, 2014, hell even 2013 past Tim has tried to set up some shit for future Tim. Not everything has blossomed into fruit just yet (Does fruit blossom?).

But one of my life goals looks to be happening next year: My first ever independent, creator-owned comic book will be on sale to anyone and every one who cares to buy it (more on that when I have more to tell).

Seeing as comics seems to be bearing more fruit than my acting/filmmaking right now, I'm Resoluting in that direction. Don't get me wrong, I'll be co-writing a couple things with a couple people as well, so I'm throwing the acting/filmmaking away or anything.

So, here we go. My New Years Resolutions for 2016:
  1. Make time to read one comic book every day,
  2. Create a character every day, and
  3. Write a conversation between two characters every day.
Now, I'm not proposing everything I write and create will be gold. But at the end of 2016, I should have a room full of 366 characters, and even if 99% of them are weak, clich├ęd, Z-list superheroes/villains, there could be a handful of keepers there.

Same with writing conversations. Most will stink, but hopefully there'll be a gem or two in the end.

And I'll document everything here in my blog. This will be a record of my success or failure. Everyone will be able to see how long I stick to the plan.

So, that's it. My New Years Resolutions for 2016.

Not world changing, but let's see how we go. Kewl?

Monday, April 27, 2015

That Hilarious Time I was Considered a Sex-Fiend

Strap yourselves in for a long-arsed post.

If you’re a comic book nerd, especially if you’re excited about Avengers: Age of Ultron, then no doubt you’re familiar with the recent scandal concerning Chris Evans and Jeremy Renner using the words slut and whore to describe Black Widow.

Well, the internet exploded and my personal Facebook page was no exception.

I reposted as a status update, Renner’s comment of distaste for the increasing trend of peoples’ less-than-sincere fabricated rage and pretend offence disguised as a less-than-sincere apology. As a rookie stand-up comedian, I found it a classic piece of comedy; funny but making a decent point.

A pretty heated argument followed between me and some Facebook friends, including various members of my blood family. Instead of posting everything everyone wrote, I’ll break it down to the two major points of view:

1. The words slut and whore have negative connotations used to hold women back and keep them ashamed of their sexuality and to use those words in any circumstance is to say you believe women should be ashamed of their sexuality.

2. The two actors in question were not making a political statement on how society should be run. They improvised a joke using bad taste and their comments should not be taken as saying women should be ashamed of their sexuality.

Now, there was one point where I was asked “Can you not understand how these words can be offensive?” I don’t think I was clear with my response to this question. But yes, I do understand how these words can be used as a weapon and how they can be used to hurt people.

But having said that, this is my continued stance: If you take ANY comment or word out of context, and ignore the intent of the speaker(s), and still choose to be offended, you are participating in fabricated rage and pretend offence.

This is the difference of opinion that none of us could get past. Things got heated. Insults started to be sprinkled throughout comments, but I tried my best to never make a personal attack and to keep things civil, even to the point of making sure I finished my sentences with full-stops and not exclamation points.

One of my dear friends who happens to be a female weighed in saying she believes my male privilege comes with it a history of sexual pride that clouds my ability to understand the issue and empathise with women.

This made me angry for a number of reasons.

Now, I’m going to be more candid with my personal life here than I feel I probably should be or should have to be. But I don’t feel like I can really help people understand without revealing some things. This is really in an exercise to try and show people how dangerous and damaging assumptions can be when you think you have someone completely figured out simply by the colour of their skin or their sex (or gender, whichever term is appropriate here).

I have issue with people assuming that because I’m a male, sexual conquest is an automatic point of pride, and that growing up and even in my adult-hood I must be slinging pussy and bursting with pride.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I grew up in a Pentecostal church. The institution of our church ingrained so deeply into the core of my being that any sexuality was a shameful thing. Lust, masturbation, intercourse, anything remotely sexual was deemed dirty, filth, sinful, shameful.

This stuff was so deeply indoctrinated into me as a young man that on numerous occasions I seriously considered and planned to act out Matthew 18:9 “And if your eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into the fire of hell.” So yes, believing I was a filthy, sinful creature because I masturbated, I seriously considered castrating myself. It is so deeply ingrained into the soul of my being, that even today, as a grown-arse man, I still have issues maintaining a healthy sexual relationship. Even in loving situations where sex is mutual and consensual, I am still riddled with that shame and guilt that was drilled into me.

I understand that this isn’t the case for all men. I understand that. But to me, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

That’s one thing that upset me when I was lumped into a group of other people and told I wouldn’t understand, when I believe I understand more than most.

The other thing that got me mad was the concept of male privilege. Yes it exists. I agree 100% that white, straight, middle-class men are given a lot of passes in society that everyone else isn’t. I understand that I’m a lucky person to not have to deal with a lot of problems that come to everyone else.

But on the flipside of that, I have often tried to discuss my depression in an open forum. I have tried a number of times. We live in a world where one day a year is even dedicated to asking friends, workmates, family, anyone at all “R U OK?” Now, without fail, every single time I’ve tried to raise these issues, every single time I’ve been told “Suck it up” or “You’re a middle class, straight, white male. You don’t have a problem in the world” and so on and so forth. To the point where it wasn’t so long ago that I sat on my bed in tears, with a razorblade resting on my wrist. The only thing that stopped me was the thought of one of my kids finding the bled-out body.

(That last few sentences are the hardest thing I’ve written in my life. I re-wrote it about eight times, debating if I should include it. I’m bracing myself for the same old “he’s attention seeking” comments.)

Now, I bring both these points up, because I have always tried to judge people as individuals, and understand that everyone sees life through their own prism of experience. And although I have white skin and a penis, doesn’t mean I always neatly fit into that stereotype.

I responded to my dear friend’s post, trying to sum up what I’ve just said in the last ten paragraphs or so. I don’t think I did a good job and honestly, right now, I can’t remember the exact words I used. After a couple minutes, I had second thoughts and went back and deleted that response. Instead posting “Nah fuck it. I’m done.”

I really was exhausted by this argument and just wanted it to end. I turned off my internet, and took my family to Avengers: Age of Ultron.

When I turned my phone on again, I was met with a PM from my dear friend. It full of bile, hate and personal insults, accusing me of the same. She was washing her hands of me. I was ignorant and uneducated and she and her friend would never try to discuss serious matters with me again. This was surprising because as far as I recalled, I’d never had any sort of clash with her friend (also another of my dear friends, but I’m using these terms to differentiate people instead of not having to name anyone). I always thought she was awesome. We’d even recently discovered we both loved a really cool series of novels.

So, I found it surprising that her friend’s name even came up, but my dear friend was so enraged, that she probably didn’t even realise she was not only throwing her friend under the bus, but also letting me know that some cloak-and-dagger style discussions regarding me had been going on behind closed doors somewhere. Where? How often? How many people have been included in these discussions?

I was soon to learn that not only these two women, but more now consider me a threat. I learned that they are afraid to be left alone with me because they don’t know what I’m capable of. They think (or they say that they think) I could be a predator and given the chance they do not know if I would attack them or not.

I have had another serious discussion/disagreement with my dear friend in the past. I’m a fan of Adam Baldwin. Yes, #GamerGate’s Adam Baldwin. I’ve enjoyed every piece of his work I’ve ever seen.

I learned he was coming to Australia when I saw an online petition calling for him to be banned from the Supanova convention because of his misogynistic online activities in the name of #GamerGate. Now, I read the petition. From there I read what must have been twenty five different articles, more, from both sides of the argument, finding two that seemed to be impartial and not carrying an agenda. I’m not going to go into the ins and outs of it. If you care, do the research and get yourself educated on it all.

I literally came to the conclusion that “Well, there are cunts on both sides” and that that still doesn’t excuse anyone making threats of rape or death against anyone else.

I even lost a friend when he was posting an article against Adam Baldwin and I told him I had read where Baldwin kinda apologised and kinda explained. His response was “Source of piss off.” I gave him the source and his response again was “Source or piss off.” To this I told him I had given him his source but if he couldn’t be bothered looking it up and reading it, and was more comfortable with his hate mongering, then he could piss off.

Needless to say, he hasn’t spoken to me since (and again, if you’re interested, do your own leg work. I’m done sharing sources to people who refuse to read them).

So, from memory, there are two occasions where me and my dear friend have had heated disagreements about issues like this. I believed we had had respectful disagreements on topics. And I have even had discussion with a third friend (that I have learned is also in the growing “Tim might rape or murder us” club) where I have changed and reworded, edited posts I’ve made after she’s discussed added issues that made me aware the post wasn’t as cut and dry as I originally intended.

But now, I was being labelled a potential threat to women and that personal friends of mine, not just Facebook friends who have never met me before, actual human being friends, think I’m a predator.

They’ve ignored my Facebook posts where I’m saying legislation needs to change to protect women in domestic violence situations. They’ve ignored me trying to champion women as creators in the comic book industry with my #WomenInComics month worth of comic book reviews. They’ve ignored the fact that I have three daughters and I’m constantly trying to find positive role models for them in comic books, TV and movies who are tough and intelligent and independent women. They’ve ignored that in the real world I am constantly putting my life and body on the line to protect women. They’re ignoring that I’ve had my belly cut up trying to break up a domestic violence situation. They’ve ignored the time that I picked up a young lady from the side of the highway who had been raped and left for dead, I held her hand as she slipped in and out of consciousness as I drove her home, because whenever I mentioned police or the hospital she would freak out. They’ve ignored that I wasn’t able to sleep for about a week after that, and that the only sleep I got that week was from crying myself to sleep. These women choose to ignore all that, instead believing I’m a predator and woman hater because we can’t see eye to eye on a couple things.

So in a nutshell, a group of women who I have known for years, women I have shared a dressing room with, women I have sat down to a meal with, played board games with, are now frightened for their safety at the thought of being left alone with me, because I refuse to take a stupid joke out of context, ignore it’s intent and get offended.

I love women. I love people. I have lived my life trying to be a decent person, a man with integrity who looks out for people around him.

But because I’m uneducated and ignorant enough to actually think about an event that has nothing to do with me, instead of jumping on the “I’m offended” bandwagon, I’m a potential threat to all women.

In what universe does this make any sense? In what world is this anything short of insanity? On what planet is this anything other than hysteria?

And what’s your point Tim? Are you trying to vindicate yourself with this blog?

One part of me says “FUCK YES!” I feel like I need to tell the world that I’ve never hurt a woman physically, and have tried to never hurt a woman emotionally. I have never had inconsensual (I don’t know if that is a word) sex with anyone. I have never even copped an uninvited feel of a woman in a pub. So yes, I do feel like I need to vindicate myself.

But I also think this whole event is a perfect example, on a very personal level to me, why the current culture of fabricated rage and pretend offence is a very dangerous game to keep playing.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Open Mic: Smith's Alternative Bookshop (2nd September 2014)

So, last night was the first open mic I've been to since the disaster gig of June 2014 (not as bad as I'm making out; see last blog).

I've heard various comedians say when you bomb on stage, just get up again as soon as possible. Well, shortly after the last gig I got sick so last night at Smith's was the first I open mic I've been to. 

In those weeks, I'll admit that I've been feeling very unfunny with my writing. This bode ill for the show I'm currently writing and for the EOI Application I've been working on over the last six weeks or so.

Hit mid afternoon and I was so nervous I almost pyked (except Amy wouldn't let me). And I'm glad I didn't because it was a pretty great night. All the guys (no girls last night, which was a little disappointing) did their thing, most really well, some not so well. But it was definitely a good night regardless. 

So, I decided to do a couple bits I've been working on that haven't quite been hitting the way they deserve. 

But I also tagged on a new start bit that isn't going to be relevant for long.

Anyway, here's my set list from last night:

What I learned last night:

I'm still trying to find my voice, my hook. Who am I as a comedian? What do to punters want when they see this bag of meat on stage?

Pulling back the curtain, I played it much drunker than I usually do and people seemed to really like that. Not sure if that's my comedic voice, but it seemed to work last night.

Anyway, also just kinda tweeked the set and accidently dropped one of my favourite parts, but rewatching the game-tape, the bit worked better without it.

There's still a big chunk of talking-to-a-silent-room leading up to the last punchline, but by addressing the silence it seemed to break it, which is something I'll have to remember for the right situation in future.

I guess what I take away from last night is although it wasn't my best set ever, I feel like I'm ready to really get into writing my show and coming up with more bits. But not only that, it was just a little boost to my creative side, and it's given me a little more confidence to get back to work on other projects I should (my comic book, podcast and film script). I'll also be making an extra effort to get to the local open mics, because I'd forgotten how much I love them.

Anyway, I don't know if that makes any sense. I'm doing this on my phone outside work, so I hope its eligible.

Thanks for reading. Talk soon.

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Private Birthday Gig (28th June 2014)

A few weeks ago, my good friend and acting teacher reached out to me. He wanted to book me for a private gig. It was awesome to hear from him and I was very excited to do my twenty minute show for an all new crowd.

So, that was cool. I had a few weeks to prepare and rehearsed and practiced my show.

For those familiar with my stuff, here's my set list for tonight:

Now, the lesson I learned from tonight's gig? 

Before I say yes to a gig, I need to make sure I've asked the right questions. 

From no-one's fault but my own, my show just wasn't right for my audience tonight. Don't get me wrong; all the guys and girls I met are awesome people, I got a bunch of laughs at key moments, some fun back and forth with some of the audience and pretty much had a great time.

But there was a row of children in the front row. I managed to clean up a heap of the language and themes of my show, but I had to drop about a third of my show for risk of having to put those poor kids through therapy before they're eighteen.

So, what I should have done is asked my mate a few questions instead of assuming I know what is what. Like I said, it was still a great night, but due to not really being prepared for the situation, I don't think my audience really got the most out of my show (And in all honesty, being a birthday gig, I really should have assumed that family and kids would be there, so definitely my bad).

The course of action from here?

1. As I mentioned above, remember to ask more questions, important questions, when being booked in future.

2. I'm going to try and start writing more family friendly comedy. I mean, it's great fun to down some beer and tell some sex jokes and talk nonsense for adults in a pub or club type situation, but I think I'd like to be able to entertain people from sic years old to sixty. So, I think have a clean set as well can only be a benefit.

Anyway, that's my thoughts on tonights stand-up gig. It was great fun, but it gave me a lot to think about.

Thanks for reading and keep on smiling.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014


Now, I’m the first to admit, I have a weak mind. No, I’m not saying I’m stupid or uneducated. I’m saying I lack personal willpower. Just take a look at the last time I posted a blog. Over a year ago. I’ve promised multiple times to blog more, and it never happens. I don’t have the personal drive and discipline to do anything.


This is how I’ve become the fat fuck you can see now; medical problems, emotional problems, physical problems, financial problems.

You see, most of my friends are single, twenty-somethings and I tend to forget that I’m not. Most times I think I’m younger than I am.

When James Gandolfini died last year, it was a bit of a wake-up call. To learn he is only some fifteen years older than me was a shock. He didn’t die of an overdose, it wasn’t a freak accident or a shooting. It was a heart attack. Dude just loved to eat. Just like me. And was probably too busy to work out. Just like me. Maybe he had medical issues that prevented him working out. Just like me.

I loved Gandolfini. He was a favourite actor of mine and from all reports a great human being. It saddens me to think of the movies we won’t see this guy in.

That’s a long arse way of saying, if I don’t make some changes, I’ll be dead in fifteen years.

So, I’ve started running three times a week. Well, not so much running as trotting or shuffling. I’m using a free app called C25K (couch to five kilometres). It’s supposed to gradually build your endurance over weeks and weeks basically going from being some jack-ass on the couch to eventually being able to run 5kms in one go. It breaks up small running sessions with walking sessions and warm ups and warm downs.

I get up at 5am, three days a week and spend a half-hour on it before work.

I’m half-way through week three of the program. I’m finding it pretty gruelling.

But, I keep getting up in the morning and putting on my runners and hoodie and facing the cold Canberra mornings (and it isn’t even winter yet… Oh Jesus…) and I keep tweeting my progress from my app.

I’ve come to understand why people post about working out. Sure, there’s probably a touch of vanity or show off there.

But at the end of each run (read: shuffle) I continue to post my progress on twitter. Even though my knees hurt and I’m puffing like that fat rhinoceros on Jumanji, swearing to myself and telling myself I’m not going to get up at 5am on Friday.

I do it for two reasons: The first is it keeps me accountable. As long as my Twitter and Facebook friends know I’m doing this C25K thing, they’re gonna expect to see the updates. The people that really know me are gonna expect to see me quit. And they’re going to ask if that post doesn’t hit every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at around 6am.

But the other reason I continue to post is that when I’m out there in the cold, running around that wet football field in the dark, and when I’ve been running two and a half minutes and I’m hurting and my brain it screaming at me to stop, I think about every single “like” my friends have given my posts, every encouraging word and comment posted. Knowing my friends and family are proud of my trotting along I the dark keeps me going.

And I want to see my kids grow up.

So I guess this post is a big THANK YOU to everyone who has my back. Clicking that ‘like’ option does more for me than you’ll know. And please, keep the encouragement coming. I’d like to eventually have what it takes to run 5kms again.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Reflections on Eurobeat.

Okay. I know peoplw are expecting me to do one of my deep and meeeningful blogs posts now that closing night is done. Normally I get drunk and spill my guts about how much I love everyone. It's easier when your ful of rum.

But I'm not going to. I just seem to go over the same thjing evertime.

I thank the people I know for being awesome. I thank the people I've met for being awesome.

But not this time.

I could sit here and drunkenly talk about Calen, Cameron and Lara all day. But I kinda feel like I said to everyones face what they rwally mean to me. So no need to embrrass myself agin in writing for the world to see.

I'm just gonna rell you something I've learned.

I've always said that I can't think of anything more depressing than doing a show a second or a third time. Ten years after doing any show, s=coming back and doing it again. I've always likes to do a show and put it away and move on.

But I've learned something. I've changed my mind. Tyere's nothing wrong with doing a show that you enjoyed again. I know this is common knowledge to most, but sometimes someone just has to bring it to your attention.

nOW I had a good time doing Eurobeat. It wasn't always easy, but for the most part it was fun. I don't know if I'd do Eurobeat again. we'll jump that bridge when e get to it.

But if I decide to do Eurobeat again, or Jesus Christ Superstar or whatever, that mean I'm a failure. It just means that I had a good time and I'm hoping to have another good time.

Anyway, eurobeat was fun. Thanks to all involved for making it so. Thanks to everyone that came to see it. Thanks to the production team for letting me play in their sand box. Thanks to friends old and new that made it a memorabe experience.

See you soon.