m. kidwell

i would write it myself but i genuinely do not have the time nor capacity to do so 😭😭😭

"I'm a sort of authority figure for them,

so naturally, I appear in their fantasies."

I am completely in love with those brothers!

For me, James is one of the hottest Christopher Lee characters I have ever seen!! He is such a bitch, omg just look at him! Emmanuel is no saint either, and they deserve each other. What a toxic relationship 😮‍💨

Vincent Price and Peter Cushing -

This is a spot from an italian estate agency (we are governed by the right-wing party)

The woman says "Ridiculous..."

Since this is primarily a Muppet blog, I wanted to take a moment to talk about Richard Hunt.

Richard Hunt was a gay man and a fantastic puppeteer who started working with Jim Henson, Frank Oz, Jerry Nelson, and company in 1970 at age eighteen and joined the cast of Sesame Street two years later. While working with the Muppets, he originated the characters of Scooter, Beaker, Statler, Sweetums, and Wayne, but also became the primary performer of Janice and is responsible for the flower child personality she is now known for. He was also known to be a fantastic singer.

But maybe most importantly, he made so many people happy. According the book "Of Muppets and Men" by Christopher Finch, Hunt "seems to get more unadulterated pleasure from performing than anyone else in the organization. When he is not working on camera, he is apt to have Scooter or Beaker or Janice -- anyone -- on his arm for the purpose of entertaining... He makes the crew laugh, jokes with the guest star, clowns for the shop personnel. He is one of the chief reasons for the loose atmosphere that exists around Studio D despite the pressure and the slow pace that are endemic to television production."

Hunt died at age 41 due to AIDS complications. The Muppet Workshop made a panel for the NAMES Project AIDS quilt in his honor. The Richard Hunt Spirit Award is presented every year at the Sesame Street wrap party to the cast member that best honors Hunt's generosity and dedication on set.

The US Government is currently trying to pass an incredibly dangerous national law for trans youth called HR 2616.

This bill would ban all Federally funded schools from teaching about gender identity or sexual orientation, prevent teachers from using the correct pronouns and names for trans students, remove books with any trans representation in them, and even go as far as to prevent teachers from acknowledging trans identity AT ALL.

Any school that does not follow this will lose all federal funding. This bill would also require teachers to forcibly out trans students to their families, which would be fatal to any trans student with a transphobic Family or just hateful family in general. Trans people are already a group that already has some of the highest rates of being victim to suicide, domestic violence, and sexual assault.

This bill actively makes teachers put those innocent children at such a big risk. This bill has rapidly passed the house this week with support from all 209 republicans, as well as 8 democrats. But, it's still being voted on in the senate, which means there is still time to help stop this.

To help stop this, you can visit 5calls.org (look up 2616 in the search bar), one of the most top issues filed Oppose Attacks on LGBTQ+ Students. Once you put in your general location, it will pull-up contact information for your senator, and give you a script for calling them.

If you are a minor and/or do not feel comfortable doing this, PLEASE repost this on here, or any other platform you are on/can find! This needs to be heard and fought against.

Thank you for reading this, my lovely people!

@221castiel @aamtreeanalogy @abominablebeatle @a-chance-of-raine @aelia-posts  @aggressiveagendrgrl @alexloveharrypotter @aliensatemysocks @allmywordsandworlds @all-the-young-judes  @altair-meadows @alwayssirius09 @anerdymagpie @andyprngs @anotherdepressedteen  @anything-for-my-moons @apcqlypse @ariannabananasstuff @a-rue-of-mine @asexualnerdpanic @ash-elair-writes @ashylittlebookworm @asserting-my-dominance @autistobrat @averycolonthree   @baskabytheanglerfish @b4rty-r0s13r-w1ll-fck-y0ur-m0m @beefgoulash @behind-blue-eyes-remastered @belle-ofthebooks @bimoonphases @b1ttr-s4usz @bitchy-marvel-dude @bricksandbirds @brosaracoonwe  @blackcatsandlockets @b00ksandtea @cabin10aphrodite @caterhoades1971 @cats-reading-books  @castlenjoyer @c4nd1e @c0nstantlyscreaming @complimentary-breadbasket @ch3rry-van1lla @chronicallyonlinebitch @courageandnaanbread   @cherrylusstuff @cornishpadfoot   @cherriblossomm @cherry-carter @clothildeclothilde @cosmo-vostok @cryingoverdeadgaywizzards @daisy-the-wildflower @datotota-data @d3adartfreak @deadpoetsinparis @deedeethedevil @depressedgayalien @deswhomst @devslainsts @dontyoudarejudg3

(Please let me know if you don't want to be tagged)

Henry Cuellar (TX-28)

Donald Davis (NC-1)

Cleo Fields (LA-6)

Laura Gillen (NY-4)

Marie Gluesenkamp Perez (WA-3)

Vicente Gonzalez (TX-34)

Marcy Kaptur (OH-9)

Eugene Vindman (VA-7)

Part Two

Read Part One of this essay.

So maybe the universe decided to acknowledge that was a job well done. I got to talk to Zach Woods. I barely remember anything I said or he said back but! We exchanged words! He acknowledged my existence! Nothing could top that! Or so I thought.

I had no idea what was in store for me on Saturday, June 6.

I couldn't sleep after the premiere. At the diner I began to draft my notes on The Accompanist for my review. I drank a mug and half of decaf to stay awake and remember details. Before my night concluded, I was actually able to meet one of DZW's readers, a lucky coincidence that they grabbed dinner after the film at the same diner. They were absolutely lovely to talk to. We discussed the film, Zach's focus on witches, our respective encounters with him. It was nice to connect with a fellow fan.

After chatting about the website and Zach for a little longer, we said farewell. I finished my coffee, wrote a bit more in my notebook, got startled by a cockroach in the restaurant (only in New York!), and made my way back to my hotel with a Lyft ride.

Unfortunately, I somehow had enough caffeine and adrenaline in my system to keep me up past three in the morning. While I tried to sleep I couldn't stop thinking about the movie, processing its themes and intimacies as I recalled Zach's untiring fascination with Dahl's The Witches; the number of positive, warm interactions I had with other cast, crew, and even family members who were nothing short of beaming; the wonder and weirdness of being at a world premiere in New York alongside more than 450 attendees; and obviously, the very fact that I had met Zach Woods—my favorite comedic actor and subject of this website.

Looking back, I think the mindfuck around meeting Zach for the first time was less about actually meeting him and more about how the idea of the man in my head exactly matched what was presented to me in person.

I have a (completely and wholly unfounded/unconfirmed) theory that Zach doesn't wear masks with people. Now, I'm sure if he's pitching to a room of execs he'll talk and conduct himself as appropriate—but my guess, in the greater scheme, is that he doesn't really have anything to hide. He is open and incredibly generous (more on this later). He is honest and direct without being terse or abrasive.

I replayed the interactions I had with him—now fuzzy, as if I had dreamed—and felt extremely fortunate and frankly, dumbfounded.

I learned Zach Woods was just … a normal guy, with family he adores, and colleagues he cares deeply about. That's what I took from his introduction to the screening:

If I start saying thank yous, so many people were involved in making this movie, and so many of them are here tonight, and if I start to say thank you to them, we will be here for an extra two hours. And so rather than do that, I would just ask everybody who is here, who is a part of making this movie to know how profoundly I appreciate you and how much I love you. And that extends to the families, both biological and chosen of everyone who worked on the film and who gave up their loved ones for a period of time to be able to make the movie.

I mean, wow. Right? That's Jared Dunn? That's Gabe Lewis?

Eventually, I passed out thinking about witches.

I woke up the next morning at 10 a.m., which was when the Storytelling Summit activities at Tribeca were starting.

"Noooope, not doing that," I said as I turned over in bed, legs and feet aching.

I stayed in, skipping the day's sessions. I was bummed, and a little anxious; I hadn't yet picked up my badge (that was the plan Friday morning—sike!), and now my pass was for exactly one single session on Saturday morning.

I resolved to get to the venue early, no matter how unnecessary it probably was.

Later that evening, after I pried myself off the king-sized mattress I rotted in, I managed to get lost in Manhattan, trying to find a ramen shop despite navigating on a goddamn grid. I was wearing Nikes without socks, as well as a fucking cardigan. It had to have been at least 80 degrees that day, so I'm confident I suffered minor heat exhaustion. Luckily, I had a phenomenal meal with a good friend and we caught a spectacular performance of Heathers nearby. And despite my screaming feet, we went to the stage door and got a lot of autographs.

I returned to my hotel tired but satisfied. It was my last night in New York, so I packed up my belongings before bed, laying out my clothes—including and especially a t-shirt with the following text on the front:

(I know, it's brilliant. After all, ZACH SAID IT WAS, QUOTE, "REALLY FUNNY.")

I set an early alarm. One more day. I had one more opportunity to meet and talk to Zach.

But what the hell was I going to say?

DZW has put me in the honest position of forcing me to evaluate my life choices.

I don't mean this in a funny and dramatic way—I mean this as someone a couple years shy of 40, unhappy with what I do for a living and not gaining any creative fulfillment. DZW has opened a lot of opportunities for me to discover I am good at things besides the tasks that earn my weekly paycheck. DZW has reminded me I am good at talking to people, researching, solving puzzles.

And writing.

I missed writing. I wrote a lot of Avengers-era fanfiction late last year through January before getting into the Zach Woods kick that exploded into this fruitful enterprise.

I forgot how much I enjoyed writing. And earlier this year, after I had quit a longtime job that burned me out at both ends, something told me to give comedy writing a try.

First, I took an eight-week level one improv course and had the most fun I ever had in a "classroom." Then, I signed up for a screenwriting workshop.

I was really, really happy. I was meeting new friends and exploring an idea I'd bounced around with for a while, about a polyamorous woman who exclusively dated A-listers. (Funnily enough, a movie's coming out with a premise that's not that far off … anything is possible!)

But by week three of the screenwriting workshop, I had changed ideas completely. And I was enthralled. That idea:

How does a sixteen-year-old commute three times a week from his Pennsylvania suburbs to New York City to take improv classes?

The research I had done about Zach for DZW had uncovered a story I couldn't let go, and one that was critical to Zach becoming the performer and artist that he is today. The idea of a child commuting to New York City in the early 2000s, alone, to perform improv comedy with adults? I mean, seriously, what the absolute fuck?

When I listened to Zach's interview with Jesse Thorn, I couldn't believe the nonchalance of the conversation:

Jesse: How long did it take you to get from where you lived, in Pennsylvania, to the UCB in Chelsea? Zach: It was about two hours, door to door. And I would take the New Jersey transit up and back, but because I was on a high school schedule, I would get back really late at night from doing shows. You know, I’d go out to Williamsburg. So, to get to Williamsburg’s like—add another 45 minutes. And then I would get back, but I’d be waking up at six in the morning. So, I would drive home from the Hamilton Train Station, in the winter, with the windows down and I’d crank the AC and I would blast music, because I would be falling asleep. I’d be so tired from not sleeping! So, I’d just—oh, and I’d scream! I mean, if you had—if somebody had seen me, it would have looked as psychotic as it was.

Every day I kept daydreaming about a kid on a subway train, too tall for his seat, staring out the window while he headed toward Manhattan at sunset. And of course, the scene Zach himself kept returning to time and time again in interviews: rolling the windows of his car down in the middle of winter to let in the frigid air, cranking the volume of his radio, and screaming at the top of his lungs so he wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel.

So at some point I decided someone needs to write this story, and it may as well be me because this is just too damn interesting. AND funny.

I began writing a television pilot. At the time of this writing, I'm about halfway done with it, having re-written the introductory scenes about four times now (and counting).

In Part One of this essay, I wrote about how I said fuck it! when I bought my ticket to Tribeca. I said fuck it! again when I bought the next ticket for the Storytelling Summit.

The night before Zach Woods' "Luminary" conversation, I decided I'd say fuck it! one more time and tell him about my wild idea.

I checked out of my hotel, stored my luggage, and got to Spring Studios around 9:00 a.m. Zach wouldn't be speaking until 10:30 with Jane Wickline of Saturday Night Live fame.

The place was fairly empty, save for a few volunteers at the badge stations for press, VIPs, and other attendees. The volunteer I needed for my badge was running late due to the MTA having a bad morning. I met some ladies while waiting and made small talk; one was a New Englander, the other was from California. I tried not to keep glancing at my watch. The volunteer we needed arrived around 9:30, and as soon as I had my lanyard and badge I bolted for the fifth floor to wait for Zach's session to start.

Of course, the floor—very white, apparently formerly known as the "De Niro floor," according to a security guard—was completely deserted. I realized I hadn't had coffee. I then realized the event hadn't provided coffee.

Was this purgatory?

The security guard said to come back in a bit, as the room was still getting ready.

I went to find coffee. I came back within five minutes, kicked out of a lounge upstairs which hadn't opened yet, with a cold can of black cold brew. (To paint a picture: I'm an iced latte with extra caramel kind of gal.)

This was going to be a morning.

I made small talk with the security guard, a fellow Puerto Rican. Some important people/organizers came and went. Someone asked about water bottles.

Eventually, a small group of attendees arrived to wait. When the room finally opened, we all went inside—I beelined to the front row but had a kernel panic when I saw angry RESERVED signs on some of the seats. I turned: both seats without the signs in the front row were suddenly taken. This is what happens when you don't have your coffee.

I took a second row seat and settled in.

I don't know why I had this idea in my head that Zach would be dressed up in a formal suit, being asked questions about his illuminating career. Instead, he came in wearing a purple t-shirt (NYC Parks and Recreation Department, represent!), a dark blue button-up worn as a jacket, and casual slacks with sneakers. His hair had Opinions. For a second I thought he waved at me, having recognized me from the premiere, but I have since decided that was a hallucination and maybe he was gesturing to someone a couple of rows back.

The talk was delightful. Jane Wickline, fifteen years Zach's junior, had striking similarities to Zach: she too played trumpet, wanted to pursue jazz, ended up not doing so, and went to comedy instead. The conversation was sweet and I noticed Zach would thank Jane for her questions as they spoke. He would also become self-conscious when talking about himself for a long period of time.

Zach also (and this was far from surprising) told stories and anecdotes I had already heard in most of his interviews multiple times. For example, here's a rolodex of his go-to stories:

Wanting to be a jazz player as a teen; getting braces; being forced to stop playing jazz after harrowing orthodontist visits

The screaming with the windows down story when driving home after his UCB commute as a teen

Quoting The Velveteen Rabbit, specifically the Skin Horse speech about having your fur "loved off"

Quoting The Witches; talking about how he thought his mother was a witch—and when she denied it, his conclusion of "but that's what a witch would say"

His introduction to his classmates at his first UCB course, which got him sad "pity laughs"

His trip to the United Kingdom with his father to film In the Loop with Armando Iannucci, feeling completely overwhelmed with gratitude during the flight; and recalling James Gandolfini's kindness to him and the rest of the cast and crew of the production

… you get the idea. One part of me was like, Damn it! I know this already, Zach! And another was like, Hell yeah, I know this already, Zach!

There was a substantial Q&A session. I managed to ask about the personal nature of The Accompanist. He answered smartly, generously. And then it was over.

I expected him to be whisked away by his publicist or assistant, or swarmed by Tribeca staff. But again, he stayed. He was determined to answer someone's question the Q&A hadn't addressed, and once again it was like I was back at the premiere—people were mingling and Zach was talking to them.

I understand this might be a Tribeca thing, or a film festival thing, maybe even a New Yorker thing, but I was just a little floored at how casual it all was.

I did that awkward wait-behind-a-trio-of-people-in-a-blob-of-a-line-and-hope-he-notices-me stance. Once again I prepared myself to have the opportunity to exchange words with Zach Woods stolen by his people—the people who would talk to my people, if I had people.

But once again—

"Hi!"

Halfway through the panel I thought, Okay. If I managed to talk to him, I'm just going to tell him about the pilot. Fuck it. YOLO.

(I know no one says YOLO anymore, but just bear with me.)

I'll mention it, I'll tell him I'm not PITCHING anything, I'm not selling anything, I'll just mention it and ask him about his braces.

Feedback I had gotten from my screenwriting workshop focused a little bit about my protagonist's reason for having to quit music. What was wrong with his braces? What was the state of his oral health? How serious was his physical ailment?

Well, I 1) never had braces and 2) didn't know what exactly Zach was talking about when he'd say in interviews, "I got braces so I had to quit." What did that mean? I didn't know the mechanics.

When it came my turn, I quickly said to him (after shamelessly asking for a selfie because as I said, YOLO),

"So I'm writing a pilot based on your adolescence."

His response?

"WOW!" with wide blue eyes.

I continued fast, wanting to be sensitive to his time, the others waiting behind and around me—I asked him what exactly it was about the braces that forced him to quit.

Zach explained, quite easily, that braces can prevent a trumpet player (and I'd guess by extension, any brass/woodwind player) from forming a tight seal around the mouthpiece to control the airflow for sound/pitch/volume/tone, which messes with a musician's embouchure—in short, the calisthenics that occurs across a player's mouth, lips, teeth, tongue, and facial muscles that allow them to play an instrument.

It all clicked. "That makes perfect sense!"

Then, after thanking him for the answer, I said,

"So if I had any other questions…?" letting my sentence trail off because YOLO I didn't know what else to say.

Now, here's what I expected Zach Woods to reply with:

"I'm so sorry, I'm too busy, but good luck with that!"

"Yeah, let me point you to [name of assistant/publicist/agent/someone] to get your information."

"Questions about what?"

"I'm sorry, there's a crowd of people and I need to get to them before I have to leave—"

"I wish I could help but I don't think it's my place."

"You could Google it, right?"

Instead, I got:

"Well, are you on Instagram?"

I don't remember much after that. My mouth kept talking while my brain was processing he asked for your Instagram????// in real time. I mentioned the archive, and the IG handle.

"Oh, that's easy to remember!"

He said more words, which are not easy to remember now.

After I said goodbye, thanked him again, and kept my gushing subdued, he thanked me again for the thoughtful questions, which made me think he was acknowledging what I had asked at the premiere in addition to the panel that morning. (In reply, I may have said something approximate to "akdhgfgfjdkdff.")

Outside the room, I showed my selfie to the security guard. They were ecstatic for me and my silly ass.

I had to make my way to Penn Station, so I got in the elevator to make my way back to my hotel to grab my things. And as soon as the doors shut, I pumped my fist, let out a giddy scream, and hit the button for the ground floor.

Zach followed the Daily Zach Woods Instagram account later that morning.

On my way back home, I felt inspired and excited for the site—DZW would now have original content and photography about the events Zach attended at Tribeca.

I wanted Zach to do more creative things so DZW can be there to cover them.

And I wanted to work on my pilot. I was vibrating with what now what now what now because there was so much to do! Where would I start? What's next? What can I do to make this and this and this even better?

I've been working on it.

It's been three weeks since I met Zach Woods.

I have been processing my time at Tribeca since then, thanking my lucky stars for such a wonderful opportunity to meet not only someone I admire, but also gain perspective for the aims and goals for Daily Zach Woods.

I have also spent a lot of time thinking about what it means to be a site that is officially unaffiliated and not endorsed by Zach … while knowing he knows I exist, and that the site exists, and this ongoing work exists.

It's weird.

(Zach, if you're reading this, it's a little fucking weird, but that's A-OKAY!)

But it's a good weird, because it forces me to hold DZW to a higher standard than ever before. I'm not going to be afraid to be critical of his work—as I've written before, Mating Season did him dirty, and I don't disagree with some of the reviews for The Accompanist's magical realism falling flat.

However, this site is here to celebrate the accomplishments of one Zachary "Josh" Woods, actor, director, improviser, and luminary, and we plan to continue to do that with respect. We're not here to record his every move; we're not here to speculate on his personal life. We're here to say, "Zach, this is so cool, tell us more!"

Because let's face it; if you're a fan of Zach's, you're going to be saying "WOW!" more than anything else.