I wanted to drop a line to say I’d like to drop more lines.
I have information to tell you!
First of all I want to welcome Jasper Anson of NovaCurrent to my publicity team! I’ve known Jasper for years and we are both very excited to finally be working together to Make Peter New Great Again. So if you read or hear any interviews with me going forward, chances are Jasper had something to do with it. And thank goodness!
Second of all I’m excited to announce that our Crazy8 film Woodman has been licensed by our national broadcaster here in Canada for late in 2018- so you’ll be able to see the film 12 or 15 months from now on CBC, and presumably their website and affiliates and such. That gives our team ample time to fire the film out to festivals all over the globe prior to broadcast, so if you aren’t willing to wait til you’re old and grey just to see the movie, stay tuned to your local film festivals and maybe we’ll appear in the programming. Better still: petition your local festivals to acquire it! Maybe I’ll even fly around a bit and we can hob nob at swanky film parties! Who knows!?
Third I’m thrilled as punch to be going back to San Francisco this month and sticking my nose in at the Bay Area Brony Spectacular for the third time! Though: this trip marks my seventh trip to San Francisco. Maybe I’ll finally pop in at Alcatraz. I hear prison is nice in the spring.
All the best to all as always.
Thank you for showing me a deep, eternal truth about myself: I’m better than you are. I’m a better human and a better man.
I sometimes feel really low and vulnerable; a mere meat-puppet, a commodity. Like there’s little more to me than a well-placed “eeyup” to prove my dimention or relevance. I’m shit, is what I think sometimes. In showing me that that’s all I’m worth to you, you’ve proven to me that I still believe I’m more than that. In your exploitation of my indignity you’ve single handedly reminded me that dignity and self-worth remain strong voices in my inner life. And that these things are my strength. You’ve reminded me I’m strong. So: thanks.
I remember you, you know. I’d been drinking, I’ll admit, so it’s vague. I’d also just been working for thirteen hours so it was feeling nice to be cutting loose. You were in black I think, but honestly it could have been any colour. I remember zipping up my pants and turning from the urinal and seeing you there, standing in an awkward place in the room, too far from the sinks or towel dispensers. You were facing me. It flashed across my mind that maybe you’d just taken a picture of me while I’d been peeing or something, but I dismissed it as fast as I thought it. Who would dare be so base; so low and disrespectful; so childish? No one, surely. My imagination, I decided. I think we nodded at one another. You pretended to dry your hands. Or maybe you were putting away the camera and I simply substituted what I expected to see. Doesn’t matter: I washed my hands and left the room. I’d forgotten you entirely by the time I got back into the panel.
If I’d known how much you’d impact me later I’d have instead kicked your balls right out of your mouth and tied them to a pipe while I flushed your camera down the shitter as you watched. I’m so glad I didn’t though. Partly because of my position on violence, and I’d hate to be inconsistent, but mostly because there were so many great lessons to learn in the wake of your cheap voyeurism.
See it’s not the picture itself. As creepshots go it’s pretty terrible. I’m not in yoga shorts. You can’t see my dick. I’m not really even all that attractive, I don’t think, so I’m not sure who would want to see it. My pants are sagging pretty unfortunately down my butt, and my posture is a disgrace. So again I’m pleased with the dual lesson here to straighten up and save up for some new clothes. Rather, it’s the very act of having taken it. I’d simply never have done the same to you. I hope they write “proud sneaker of pics in men’s rooms” on your tombstone, because it won’t be on mine, and that’s proof enough that I’m better than you are. Thank you.
I also want to thank you, and your “friend” (I assume he and you are the same guy?), for my lesson in assertiveness. Do you ever walk away from a situation and think to yourself, “THAT’S what I should have said!” Me too. But not this time! Your indiscretion was so vile that the right words came swimming to my lips like siren song to a sailor’s doom. You- I mean your “friend” – showed me the picture and asked your inane question and without even thinking I said, “That’s shitty,” and, “Tell your friend he’s an asshole,” both of which are incontrovertible truths, as well as being a fantastic exit line. And the real glee here is that the elevator gaped for me as if on cue and I left your “friend” speechless and wilting like the gormless hap he (read: you), apparently is. Anytime I think back on the situation I replay it exactly as it happened, it was that perfect for me. The only way it could have been better was if it had never happened at all, but as you know, you made that unlikely. So again: Confidence boosted.
Ego, too, though I wonder here if you lost a bit of foresight with the lesson you were trying to teach me. My ego is healthy enough. Some might say too healthy. Alas, you taught me that I’m so important to you that it’s worth owning a picture of me urinating. And more than that, I’m so important and meaningful to you that you felt like all your 4chan friends would be impressed by you because you got to be near me in a bathroom while I had my cock in my hand. And some of them are impressed, too! Wowzers. So many people impressed that celebrities piss too! I want to congratulate you and all your – I’m sorry I’m not up on the lingo for what to call loathsome 4chan anons; I’ve heard “losers” but I was pretty sure “nitwits…’ I’m going with: dickwits: ego boosted, though like I say, I don’t know if it needed it. In any case. It’s a win for you.
Lastly, I want to thank you for violating me. And it was a violation. Totally. I know because I feel embarrassed, hurt, angry, confused, like it’s my fault, and all of the things someone usually feels when they’ve been assaulted. I’m grateful because it opened my eyes to the inequality within me. See it never even occurred to me to call the police because I’m a man. It wasn’t until it was pointed out to me later that if you had creeped on any of the women the way you creeped on me, the first thing would have been to call the police. And it’s thanks to you that I’m ready to do that next time. Also it’s thanks to you that I’ll be taking stricter precautions: no more going to the same toilets as fans. Or perhaps I’ll have bathrooms cleared for me and guarded while I’m in them. And maybe I should go all out and insist on cons having a police presence.Or I may just cancel all further appearances. I’m considering it all, thanks to you.
I never thought I’d be that person at Brony cons. Bronies have always been so good to me. So thank you most of all for making realize that a gentle, warm, welcoming, tolerant, and beautiful community I have adored for years is actually a thing I should fear. Suspicion is the lesson here. Because you could be anyone.
I hope you’re proud of yourself.
Back in 2011, before all of this started, I was forty pounds overweight, and four months shy of my 40th birthday. I wrote a blog called Forty In Four By Forty wherein I detailed my quest to lose that weight by then, and I did ok too. I was still trying to make a mark on the world, create something for which I’d be remembered, get famous!
I was living in a mouldy basement suite that I rented with my then partner and our small daughter. We were broke mostly and I would take walks in the rain and wonder what else I could do with my life because acting was not paying the bills. But by the summer of 2012, I was 35 pounds lighter. I was in New York. And I was Horsefamous.
For the uninitiated: I play 20+ Characters on the hit animated show My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, most notably a monosyllabic apple farmer named Big McIntosh. The show has a fandom called Bronies, mostly adult men, who have been hosting meetups, gatherings and large conventions to celebrate the show. I’ve been lucky enough to have attended more than 20 of these conventions on three continents. I’m greeted like a celebrity, and in the vernacular of the fandom that makes me a famous horse, notable among horse fans, aka “Horsefamous.” I find the term endearing. It’s been a heady and exciting ride, often difficult to navigate but mostly deliciously fun.
But as with everything, the bloom wears off and the business of getting on with one’s actual life resumes. I no longer live in a mouldy basement (hooray!), nor with that partner (…yaaay…), nor my beautiful daughter 100% of the time (Boo!). I’ve also regained all that weight and I’ve just turned 44 (…collapses…). I haven’t had a steady income since recordings stopped on season 4 of Littlest Pet Shop in the summertime so I can barely afford food. I say this not to elicit sympathy, but just to elucidate the realities behind the fiction of celebrity- being an actor is hard, inconsistent, unreliable and just as often destitute as it is lucrative. So here I am: Broke, hungry and taking walks in the rain and wondering what else I could do with my life to make ends meet. Sounds familiar.
Now it’s not all dire. I have work lined up for January. And things trickle in. And things change in a heartbeat, too. I could get a call on Monday telling me that I have work enough to pay for Christmas. Or not. Who knows? But one cannot plan a life waiting on a phone that may or may not ring. And I’ve spent the last few months in hope and idleness, waiting on just that. Meanwhile the bills -and the debts- pile up, and the weight piles on.
So: What to do?
Well, in part inspired by my new love’s recent effort to draw every day, and in part by my own history in writing as a form of personal growth and motivation, I’ve decided that starting today, November first, I will write daily (like I used to do!). This will take the following form: Sunday I will update this blog with my weekly progress towards fitness, creation, and solvency through tales of misadventure and distraction. Monday through Saturday I will generate scripts for original films and TV shows (like I used to do), with an eye to actually producing things instead of letting them sit in a drawer (if anyone wants a screenplay to produce I’ve got about six dusty ones I can show you). And throughout I’ll be eating better and doing more and reporting back on my progress.
This week’s goals:
1. Write a blog (check)
2. Log meals (I’ll explain that next time)
3. Write daily (self explanatory)
4. Be active daily (instead of be-in-a-chair-playing-candy-crush-on-my-phone-because-I-feel-like-holding-it-might-make-it-ring-daily)
Ok, that’s it. Thanks for reading. And thank you for coming with me on this adventure. Your eyes on my words inspire me. Till next week, then. To action!
What a whirlwind!
In the last month, I’ve spent three out of four weekends on the road. In Columbus at Trotcon, Houston at Fiesta Equestria, and most recently in Seattle for Everfree Northwest. And it’s been a complete ball.
Something that amazes me, though, is how the character of a convention changes from one to the other. One would think, you rent a hall, fill it with stuff your people will like and populate it with an army of tolerant pony-folk who al share a common interest and presto: a homogenous brony experience unfolds.
Each of these cons was unique and memorable; each was a great time, but each in a different way. At Trotcon I was the only voice from the show present. The con was a bit smaller, and felt truly community based. It felt like wandering around at a farmers market in a way. Lovely, a bit quaint, and hugely fun. Fiesta, by contrast, felt sprawling, much like Houston itself, I suppose. I always felt like one end of the con was a mile from the other, and it spread us out in such a way that each gathering felt like a surprise. It was like being backstage at a rock show, and the party was exactly what you’d expect. And Everfree felt electric. Equally sprawling as FE, and yet it always felt close, like Trotcon did. I can’t explain it, but to say that every moment I was there felt like something great was happening, and something better was just around the corner.
I’ve had a complete and utter non-stop total ball at these three Pony parties, and I cannot wait for the next ones (Galacon in Stuttgart Early Aug. And Nightmare Nights in Dallas early Nov.) I’ll leave you with this, my favourite panel from the past month: