#because that tape color is SO connected to nick releases for me

[thatcartoonnetworkblog]

I feel like I should write about the blogger a little.

Hmm, well, I’m a guy in my mid-20′s, and a film student in my last semester of college. I really want to write and direct movies of my own, but there’s always something about animation that brings me back.

I’d say that my first love would be Disney, my second love Warner, and my third Hanna-Barbera/Cartoon Network. Like practically every child of the 90′s, I grew up with my favorite Disney tapes on a loop again and again, but one thing about me is that I became so fascinated by Disney’s history, and tried to collect and see every animated movie they’ve done, and a good deal of their live-action stuff. 

I remember on a somewhat rare appearance by my father, he was taking us to Toys R Us to buy us a tape of Peter Pan, as per my mom’s request. While that was one of my favorites and I did want to finally own a copy (this being a new release, finally exiting the Disney Vault after a couple of years when we were lucky to find it to rent), I tricked him into buying us Fun and Fancy Free instead, which just came out, and I was curious to see what Jiminy Cricket was like as a host. My mom wasn’t happy, even though I did end up enjoying the movie, and she got us Peter Pan a couple of days later herself. So it was basically a win-win. And I remember being similarly excited when The Black Cauldron and Saludos Amigos were released, so I could finally see these and find out why they were vaulted for so long.

I also remember being excited to finally get Disney Channel as a full-time channel. I loved when we got our weeklong previews every one or two times a year, and getting to watch Disney Afternoon series as well as classic movies and shorts on there. But when we got it... I ended up being disappointed. 

Shows like DuckTales and TaleSpin had moved to Toon Disney, which we had yet to get, the studio’s older films were relegated to late nights, and their core schedule consisted of live-action shows that didn’t interest me for the most part, and Playhouse Disney, which I was a little too old for at that point. Around that point, their only animated series was The Proud Family (I got the channel somewhere between the time Lizze McGuire and that started), which I tolerated, but never particularly enjoyed. My attention was more tuned to CN and (to a lesser extent) Nickelodeon. Even when Kim Possible, which I thought was an improvement aired, it wasn’t enough, and I never really connected to the channel aside from Boy Meets World and the handful of times I could stay up for Vault Disney. 

That’s about all my Disney-loving self could really accept. I did eventually get Toon Disney, though, and I really liked it in its first few years, as I even liked a lot of their One Saturday Morning shows, but the more that their older series were being taken off for repeats of their Disney Channel cartoons and for Jetix, the less I was into it. I kind of zoned out by the time it became Disney XD. Gravity Falls and Star vs the Forces of Evil are good shows, though.

I was more of a Nickelodeon fan when I was a bit younger, and really liked it in the early 90′s. Their live-action shows were clever and creative, and even today I still enjoy Pete & Pete, Clarissa Explains It All, and the game shows. But I’m a cartoon person at heart, so those are what stick out to me. I wasn’t born when the first 3 Nicktoons aired, and was probably a little too young to watch and appreciate Rocko’s Modern Life as it premiered, but from 94-96, I was really into all of their Nicktoons, including the aforementioned 4. I’m not sure if it was because I was losing interest in the network itself, or if the shows being made at the time didn’t appeal to me, but I wasn’t into most of the shows made from Angry Beavers on, not even SpongeBob, and I still kind of am not. What really killed interest for me was how reliant Nick was becoming on Klasky-Csupo, whose later shows were never as creative or enjoyable to me as Rugrats or Real Monsters (give or take As Told by Ginger). Invader Zim was the next Nicktoon that I really got into, and I don’t care if it’s the edgy choice, I really liked the show, and it was one of the last that I ever got into (I’m not as in love with Avatar: TLA as the rest of the world, but I recognize it as a great show, and I recently got into and really dig Harvey Beaks). It was my favorite Nicktoon for a while, but I think Rocko edges it out now.

I lost interest in Nickelodeon around that time because I discovered Cartoon Network, which for me, was perfect. A channel entirely devoted to animation, including some faces I was familiar with, like the Looney Tunes (which I had grown to love via Nickelodeon and VHSes, but really fell for and started to idolize these cartoons now), The Flintstones and Jetsons, and Scooby, and some I wasn’t as familiar with, like many of Hanna-Barbera’s other creations, and their newer works, like 2 Stupid Dogs, SWAT Kats, and Dexter’s Laboratory. Fitting the decade’s rise of animation at the time, these new series were edgy within tasteful regions, and had good characters that made me feel welcome. They were different from the older shows, some of which had fantastic comic timing and colors that popped out, but also kind of complimented them at the same time. It was a good fit.

But I especially fell in love with the channel when they started to integrate more originals. Johnny Bravo and Cow & Chicken were worthy follow-ups to Dexter’s Lab, being similar in energy but standing out in many other ways. The Powerpuff Girls was another great addition that I instantly started to like as much, if not more, than these 3, and by the time Ed, Edd n’ Eddy hit, I was completely in debt to CN. This one especially looked and felt different from their other shows. Dexter, Johnny, and PPG had old-school designs, and while EEnE had its own retro vibes, the designs and characteristics were more modern, and instead went for Warner and MGM-esque expressions and movement, as opposed to the other show’s Hanna-Barbera/UPA inspired-aesthetics. Right away, I could tell that it was different from the others shows, which we really needed.

And of course there was Toonami! The first year or two of its existence wasn’t too exciting, when it was just HB’s action shows, and a couple of 80′s shows they owned. But when they started to integrate more anime into the network, and replaced Moltar with TOM, Sara, and a backstory, that’s when it became worth watching. Adding the DC shows was an additional great touch, as it was a perfect addition to Turner and Warner’s new-found synergy. Getting to watch Batman: TAS, along with Animaniacs and Freakazoid! on Cartoon Network was perfect.

I’d say CN’s peak was the Powerhouse era, which was 1997-2004, with around 1999-2002ish as the absolute best. Besides some great bumpers and ads, this was a great time to watch the network. The originals were great, while the best of the classics were still being aired, as most else were moving to Boomerang. You were bound to find something good on the network. I’d say that absolute peak started to end when Dexter’s Lab returned after its hiatus, with weaker writing and production values, and was increasingly going down when the post-movie Powerpuff Girls episodes were aired, and had the same problems. Moving The Flintstones, The Jetsons, and even eventually Looney Tunes to Boomerang were additional lowblows that were signaling a change that I wasn’t crazy about.

Not that the City Era wasn’t great in an aesthetic style. I really like the look of those bumpers, and the way that all of these characters fit together. Ed, Edd n’ Eddy, Billy & Mandy, and Kids Next Door were still airing new episodes, and some of their newer shows were showing interest like Foster’s Home and Megas XLR. But their newer shows after these were for the most part getting a little lamer, their old shows were all but gone, and Toonami became a weekly block, instead of being on 5 or 6 nights a week. Things weren’t the same.

Then CN Real was happening, and... yeah. Things have definitely changed since then, with 2010 introducing some great shows that have impacted the network in a great way. And they’ve made some great stuff since.

I made this blog, as well as unofficialcartoonnetwork, to celebrate the network from all ages and periods, not just be a nostalgia hound. I still love Hanna-Barbera, but I keep up with most of the new shows, too, and I think there’s room for everything. Animation appeals to me for all of the wonderful things that can be expressed through it, and I like there being communities where we can appreciate this. I hope my followers can find something in common with that here, even if our experiences are different.

[rexylafemme]

day five of being alive another year and basking in the afterglow of it. embracing the preciousness of my own life, as i can so easily and readily do for others. last night, tres and i sat around a patio table in his backyard, too late too late to be awake, but running off of post-performance endorphins, fumes, relation. talking about the powerful communal bonds that exist in our lives, the sense of possibility and potential we all bring each other, that gratifying feeling of nourishment, empowerment, creativity, change. on a day like today, i’m glad we had last night. today has been one of sitting with contradictions—despair, grief, gnawing rage after what happened with healthcare today and that trash executive order, too. to walk around and see children laughing anyway. to walk around and for mundane nyc conversations to be happening anyway. holding onto those small appreciations, despite the grip of fear/anxiety/rage, that clawing. letting myself feel that, letting myself sit for a minute in the grass with the sun on my face, listen to a song and give some space to the fluttery butterfly feeling in my stomach, the feathers ruffling in my little heart.

i got off work after 11 on friday night and stopped over at tres and tanya’s. we were all so sleepy, but so happy to see each other, heart-friends. they said i was glowing, bright-seeming lately. yeah. we had one shot of whiskey at midnight and had a mariah carey sing-along. their advice for me: go all in, surrender to the feelings you have. we can never know what’s going to happen, what comes down the line, which is why we should go for what we want. to trust what we want and what feels good, enjoy it, follow it. to believe in what you’ve built and the work and intention you’ve put into getting where you are now and where you want to go.

i said go big or go home. and then i did go home. laughing on my bike, cruising down the wide dark avenue parallel to greenwood, the smell of grass and so-sweet blooming trees riding on the invisible waves of wind hitting my face. i thanked basquiat. i made it through. i was alive. a few days before, it was gray and misty all day long, but i was restless. i walked to greenwood and took tons of pictures of all the new plants and flowers and trees and bushes, graves. i decided to visit basquiat’s grave and do a ritual there. i offered him flowers i picked, i drew him, and i wrote him a letter. i was thinking a lot about my 27th year coming to a close, living with the irrational fear i would die. having at one time or another been obsessed with many in the 27 club: amy, jimi, kurt, janis, jean-michel, and jim. all the pain we shared. not wanting to be frozen in time, wanting as much of it i can get my hands on, as much time and life and love and abundance as i can get my hands on, as much i can give back and multiply. the difference between desire and avarice hinges upon giving and receiving, tending, not taking, or expecting, or entitlement. nothing i have i own. nothing i want is mine. everything shared.

so, i sat on a damp marble bench behind basquiat’s grave, white sunlight through the dense white sheet of sky cast over everything bright and green and wet and colorful; verdant and juicy and creating such a contrast against the starkness. and, yes, mistakes and, yes, death and, yes, uncertainty, and, yes, wounds, and yes, questions. but, mostly hope. mostly a will to continue, power forth and forward and thoughts on upward spirals, the ascending staircases arranged in fractals that my spirit follows. all the doorways and the windows to walk through, being up from the cellar now. or the bomb shelter, or the panic room. the safe i kept my heart locked up in. the body that was itself a cage where all the broken, feral parts were stored away. the power they had, though, motivating such a craving to escape. do whatever you can. get out. times maybe i was close to following a bad habit down the road to my own death. the week before having watched the rose with femme blood family, thinking of the thorns we’ve all been. thinking of the three little children we were inside these oversized human suits. the ones that aren’t satisfied with anything less than brilliance. the ones that have been drawn to recklessness, excess. always wanting to feel something else, wanting us to be something else. did i forget we were cut from the same cloth? did i forget we mourned the same people, same times? i have held their choices against them, i have held their lives against them, at times, while expecting them to never do that to me. so bratty, so childish. and to them i will always be young, but also the infant with ancient eyes, as they said when i was born.

how much we say without speaking. the things we tell each other underneath the stories. things like i see you, things like i know you are hurting, things like don’t be ashamed, things like i know you. things like i love you. i think we’ve spent so much time feeling heartbroken for each other. so much desire for someone to be safe and healthy and happy and whole, you don’t know what to do with it. it just sloshes around in your blood pumped out from your sore heart. our. we feel each other.

when i got home after tres and tanya’s, it was officially my birthday. tyler and i sat in the living room on the couch together. he did a reading of my solar return chart for the year. my subconscious is a huge focus and a hotbed of activity this year—in a kind of wild, creative way from influences of aries and sagitarrius, but stabilized and slowed down by taurus and venus. i’m being told to face and unleash what i repress through creativity and embodiment. that my body is an instrument in my own healing. and so is whatever i make with it. i’m being told to realize that what i create spiritually and what i express has wider influential reach to others. he said i bring out the spiritual warriors in others, especially through my work. that i’m drawn to the fight in others and in myself and i have connective power. moon and node placements move me to trust my intuition and integrate it into everything that i do. this year is a good year for learning new skills and how to keep living differently. it’s a good year for pursuing dreams and big collaborations. new ways of being. new ways of being with others. the process of growth and learning will be exciting, welcome, and transformative. i’ll grow a lot emotionally and a lot will get released. i will lose and gain myself through my work and what i create/contribute. i desire balance. i want everything, but i have to take it one step at a time and trust i will achieve my goals and get what i desire.

what this says to me, also, is to sink into the ways things feel new and different. that i shouldn’t always be waiting for the floor to fall out from under me, just because i am used to that sort of thing. i put down the floor, i built the foundations and they’re solid. feel good. trust in me. trust what feels true and real.

in the cemetery, after my ritual, i shed some tears, not nearly as many as i need to shed, but i was grateful for a little release. i saw eyes patterned on trees. i stood still and made eye contact with a groundhog. as i was leaving, i stood in the grass with about 25 of the greenwood parrots around me, in the grass, on the trees. they swooped past my face. they were boisterous and yelling at each other and moving too much, i couldn’t get a good picture. sometimes you just have to be there, be in it, take note in yourself.  

i want to go into the magic of the in bloom show, but that feels like it needs its own space. i do want to share two of the poems i read from that night, though, because they feel related to all the life/death, shadow/light, bloom talk.

gently through my shadow

sometimes i walk the streets

of my home city, beer bottle glass crunching

under feet, graves to my right, trains

to my     left    wondering   why   i am

here,    & not living

in a one-room box i built myself   in the forest

no one can reach—gridless ,     me   with just atlas, a tape deck, some lace

& paper flowers, a notebook, upside-down herbs

lining all the walls, & Stevie Nicks

in the background as i am

all Misty Day twirling in circles

with my scarves swirling around me, craving

a tribe, but knowing what we humans do, so

don’t come for me, don’t call to me,

but do   come for me, call to me?—conflicted,

sea-of-love-drowned, downcast androgynous

femme radagast, friends with all the animals

& plants, misanthropic old-soul / baby-face, speaking to creatures like st. francis, but more

prophetic, less catholic &   now   here

i go    again,   i see the crystal vision    i keep

my visions to myself—

write a poem about them instead—poet

of my heart—self, never change & don’t you ever stop—      drowning? in dreams

i remember

how to breathe underwater, sometimes i am so far from the surface, i can almost find happiness there   in my element amidst sunken ships, schools of fish, &     just me    floating— how long ago did you lose yourself— an echo travels backwards through walls of timeless ocean and asks again—how long? your scales so smooth & beautiful, years, iridescent, hexagonal pieces of you— it’s like you’ve always been this gone, this mysterious deep sea creature— is it in your skin or is it a defense mechanism, hiding— do you know? the difference, intricacies of your makeup and what it means to you when an eye casts itself upon them? & didn’t you know fins for swimming evolve into wings eventually? & haven’t you been waiting to take off? go away isn’t the initial message i transmit, not the gut influence i get, but then i did say  i was a cave-dweller & i wasn’t kidding—holy hermitage—oh mirror in the sky, is total solitude the same as bringing safety home with you?

i don’t know, i don’t know   is it

some attempt at human care services, step by step metamorphosis, getting closer to being  taken by the sky, no, but we do get ourselves there, somehow, don’t we?    always overthinking—did   she/he/they   make you cry, make you break down, shatter your illusions of love? yes, and,   but,    is it over now? do you know how to pick up the pieces & go home? all i’ve known is evil witches: lousy lovers pick their prey— Fiona Goode burned the Myrtle Snow in me at the stake for my honor, self-defense & killer fashion sense—it was all control & morbid jealousy, rulers make bad lovers    and other descendants: Madison Montgomery said she was my friend, called me a gutter rat, & then stole my beloved covering before throwing me into a coffin underground,

& when they dug me up & revived me for whatever reason, i spit up inky blood & thick mud, my own death, & said fuck this institution—feeling, competition, & who the supreme is—i won’t give a shit anymore, & i never did. in the stillness of remembering   i’m better off dancing alone, i think     like a cat in the dark and then    i am    the darkness—knee-deep

in the swamp—sewer channels of asheville, oakland, queens, or brooklyn, i am a dragon & then    i turned around and the water was closing all around me—writing poetry & communing with crocodiles, black widow spiders, wearing a live snake stole and a cape of slime & ivy wrapped around me with micah swathed on my eyelids, majesty you can call me. but…

stand back    stand back   in the middle of my room if you touch me, i’ll scream. if you touch me, i’ll tell someone. if you touch me, i’ll never be the same again,   i say it like it can only be a bad thing, & it isn’t,   but it is   the risk.   i worry about  feeling anything & coming up for air from within myself for someone to face me    while Stevie sings  have no fear, only love & i try to

listen to that advice, more than the   thunder

only happens when it’s raining, players only love you when they’re playing—but i’m stubborn, full of memories, venom,   like a scorpion: i keep to myself, & i sting when cornered, but there are humans who are healing & open, i know because i am, & i can’t be the only one.

bloom wave

the trees are blooming in greenwood  my favorite

graveyard    playground, the sun is hitting

the glitter on my eyelashes, projecting pixels

in the periphery of my vision     what a feeling,

serotonin and kinship all over  the place, at home

here in brooklyn finally   silver linings

are aware to me   and anxiety is just a state

of consciousness i  pass through on the road back toward

the center of myself, home, breathing doubt out

into fifty-three degree breezes on 40th st. walking

toward sunset park where i will sit and gaze at red hook

across the east river where my family was born

on conover st, end of the docks

on the waterfront     where brando coulda been

a contender and my grandfather watched the lionhearted

majesty of my grandmother in the sun:  a curious feeling

of wonder on a day like today, maybe

everything is kinda charmed and timeless, maybe eternity

looks on me  and smiles, maybe infinity is inside me and

my heart is some prismatic thing that reflects and refracts

light off in a million directions and it won’t ever die again

in my beautiful trash heap of a city   where people struggle

and fall in and out of love again and again with the streets they grew up and re-find themselves on   every day   years 

later  resonating   their own histories in the present moment: a new gift

given back to old ancestries   when people are sweet

to each other like peaches (but less vanilla)—

& on the corner, you can get the treats you want

from the bodega: honey buns, hershey’s kisses,

whatever suits yr preference, or down the block in all five boroughs

mr. softee transmitting his tin-tin ice cream truck music and italian ices at lemon ice king of corona in queens, all things   signaling spring and inspiring all kinds of cuteness—children laughing,

clowning   spraying each other in water fountains   and

playful whirling down the slide into the arms of

april—

feeling like a teenager, all silly riding my bike

in the afternoon up and down hills round the neighborhood,

my thoughts on expanse, abundance, and chance,

saying to myself sometimes someone

says something    really small    and it just fits

right into this empty place    in yr heart—

acting all sentimental, all poor trans adult   angela chase with my messy bottle-fire hair, attempting tiger beat jean jacket pretty dreamboat in a hand-me-down striped ralph lauren sweater, leo/juliet, romeo/claire all in one

hand in my pocket &   singing  i’m lost, but

i’m hopeful and when you have rickie, rayanne, & other-kin

like yrself     who needs anyone     unavailable, too-cool, or

mostly straight—those withholding heartthrobs  always

leaning   away from you    on brick walls blocking yr walking   away in the halls of some sludgy stress dream where you never reach

where yr going & the face you touched was just an image

from the past that disappears

as yr waking— tired and wanting, unrequited—

the jordan catalanos who hated you secretly

for feeling, or who they couldn’t be for you as they wanted you only

kinda/sorta, singing    s/he’s a place to rest my head, a suggestion  

it coulda been you, but really their red wasn’t yr hair, it was a car  

driving away to the desert—  no bye cuz guys like them just    go    &

try to call you months later from a parking lot payphone—i’m wrong

and i’m sorry,   baaaaaby? making you cry alone   in yr bedroom,

& having  you ask constantly  why   are you like this!    all distant,

dumb-founded (huh? like what?)

…like…

                 like…

                                 like…    

          how    you    are?

and the answer always a shrug   in the silence

between us.

going my own way and taking ownership of it—

so many spirits flow over

me and i love it    oh, to be so pleasantly haunted

& embraceable for being true

is the actual thing

i’d always wanted.