Nicholas Thurkettle - Voice Actor

A man takes a selfie outside a tiny studio building

A man takes a selfie at a small, private movie screening inside a converted studio space

A cartoon rendering of a sad-looking man in a brown suit, with a speech bubble reading: "Like a creosote bush rolling down anything but a desert..."

Cast/crew/friends screening tonight for a no-budget indie feature called "Cell" that I have a juicy part in. I shot my scenes 2+ years ago and finally get to see how they fit into the finished product. Lots of great feedback on my work! And the filmmaker gave me a little cartoon of my character.

a man in a leather jacket is talking to another man in the dark ALT: a man in a leather jacket is talking to another man in the dark

I'm honestly glad fans have kept the torch lit for the legit virtues of "Tron: Legacy" - aka Daft Punk and Michael Sheen. But the reason no one is concerned whether or not "Ares" continues the story of Sam Flynn is that he was the Poochie of IP-extension blockbuster heroes, more checklist than man.

Oh damn and it would end with them running into the Professor and it turns out he's a Phantasm fan, too.

Well now maybe I'll need to write it.

The reason I don't roll to pick genre or prevailing tone is that I like those to be surprises. When I named the pop group "Phantasm" I wondered if I was opening the door to supernatural, but now I think if I kept going it would be a kind of slice-of-life, escalating-disasters romp with these sisters

This isn't me at my most trimmed and polished, and I don't know if I'll pursue this any further, but the fact that this idea emerged from these prompts is kind of a delightful surprise. This is proving to be a great way to play and explore in my writing without stakes or stress. Strong recommend.

Screengrab of text, it reads: The taunting graphic showed her once again that her phone had no signal. What had gone wrong? A tower down? Sunspots? A service provider maybe exaggerating just a little bit in advertising about their network? Perish the thought. Perish Alicia’s academic career if she couldn’t find a signal and get her paper turned in. Maybe this predicament was a little her fault. She had begged for permission to turn in her report remotely so she could tend to urgent family business. She had also, just slightly, exaggerated about the urgency of that business since the business was that her sister had scored tickets to Phantasm and you couldn’t expect her dull Professor to understand that the pop group Phantasm was the most important thing ON EARTH. She had tried writing some crucial passages of the paper on her phone while her sister drove them home from the Phantasm concert at 2:30am as their clothes stuck to their bodies from sweat and their voices could only bark and squeak after two hours of screaming their love for Phantasm. And that was arguably, ARGUABLY her fault as well. But the lack of phone signal as she needed to look up the citation that would prove she was not just pulling assertions out of her butt? This was not her fault at all. Instinctively she started typing out an email to her Professor, only to realize - 1) it was 2:30am and if he was checking email he was a bigger loser than she thought. And 2) Sending an email was ANOTHER thing she couldn’t actually do because she had no signal. Honestly, how does anyone live without signal? Seated in the passenger seat under the glow of a gas station light, Alicia made nervous nibbles on her lip. Her sister Tabitha was inside, paying for the fuel, picking up some beverages, and questing for the most unassailably perfect salty snack for the moment. The only sound was the buzz of the overhead lights, the rare passing car, and a kind of quiet scream somewhere in her brain.

Screengrab of text, it reads: 40 minutes to reach home, probably. Tabitha would flop onto her bed and pass out. They had promised to take out the trash and recycling as part of the covenant for borrowing their parents’ more reliable car, and Alicia would need to handle that. Alicia would also need to soothe Trumpet the dog who would be extremely excited about all of this. Maybe by 3:30am she could get to work. 9am, the paper was due. The last paper of the last class and then Alicia would be a student no longer, she would be a graduate. If she passed. That “If” was a motherhumper. This paper would make the difference between a passing grade and a failing one. And her cold-ass, arrogant old professor was an absolute Nazi about the stupid Nazi syllabus. Tabitha SMACKED the window by Alicia. Alicia bit her lip from the surprise. She lowered the window. “Ow, fuck, you made me bite my lip.” “I need money,” Tabitha answered sullenly. “I think I’m bleeding, am I bleeding?” Tabitha didn’t have a window to smack anymore so she smacked the front windshield. “I need money, the stupid guy said the card reader is down.” “You don’t have cash?” Alicia wondered if the lack of phone signal was connected to the busted card reader or if multiple technologies were breaking simultaneously and maybe the end times had come. “Bitch,” Tabitha responded impatiently, “You know I only carry cash to buy weed with.” “Then use your weed cash, fuck I can buy you weed tomorrow.”

Screengrab of text, it reads: “I spent the weed cash on the weed we smoked for the concert!” Pleasant pieces of the past rolled forward into her consciousness. “Oh yeah,” Alicia chuckled. She reached into her shirt and pulled a wadded $20 bill from her bra. “Oh God, don’t hand me your sweaty boob money,” Tabitha grumped. “It’s what I’ve got, take it or leave it.” Tabitha took the money between two fingers. “I’m going to tell him where this came from. That’s my revenge on you.” And she walked back into the gas station. Alicia was in a haze. She related to that buzzing sound from the power lines. Her hearing might be permanently damaged. It was a worthy sacrifice to Phantasm. Then her phone pinged. And pinged again. And again. It vibrated, too. Again and again and again. Text notifications were pouring in, mostly from her group chat with fellow Phantasm appreciators. Gushing about the concert, no doubt, but this wouldn’t do. Alicia needed to find that citation link. But every time she tried to type in her browser, another text would fly in. One caught her eye, flooded with crying emojis and skulls: “I CAN NEVER LISTEN TO THEM AGAIN!”

It looks like the story that's emerging is about a superfan, who's been procrastinating on finishing her final college paper so she could see the pop group she worships, finding out that a member of said pop group did something abominable and how can she possibly write a college paper now?

I did another 30-minute freewrite sprint using my d20 dice and the list of prompts I came up with. Got to 800 words! The prompts were:

Theme: Power corrupts
Setting/Incident: Last Mission/Job
Relationship: Mentor/Student
Plot Twist: Something breaks

I'll share the results below!

For sure - I think a lot about the more quiet and shy fans, for whom shipping and making art within that ship is a part of their process of discovering pillars of their own identity and my God what a critical, vulnerable time that we need to be mindful and careful about.

When I was still the voice of that one character, I felt averse to appearing like I favored any ship over another. The gravitational pull we exert as VAs can distort the community. I think shippers should have room to let their imaginations play without risk of feeling quashed by an "official" voice

Still remember when a former friend with no medical knowledge pulled an older DSM off his bookshelf in order to prove to me that I wasn't on the spectrum.

Low-light closeup of a whiskey cocktail with lemon peel garnish in a speakeasy-style bar.

Tokyo Noir. Speakeasy in Long Beach. Food and drink both excellent. Recommend the Astro Boy cocktail.

If Starbucks pioneered the concept of the "Third Place" that isn't work or home I'd like there to be a Fourth Place where it's cool if you just, like, lay down for 20 minutes.

And Sammo Hung! Watching "Eastern Condors" right now and it's absolutely mental. The way it whipsaws from slapstick to crude humor to atrocity and blood-on-the-lens horror leaves you completely unable to predict what's coming. Hung murders two people with jungle foliage!

Pop culture taught us a good deed looks like blowing up the Death Star; when you feel like you're in a world with Death Star-level evil, you can feel inadequate if you're not destroying it. But in truth, inviting a depressed friend to coffee is the kind of good that actually can change the world.

I think there are Shakespeare plays that have dated far worse in terms of gender (a-HEM, "Two Gentlemen of Verona.") But this Kate and I agree that if you play everything as they're immediately attracted to one another but don't know what to do with those feelings, it unlocks juicy ideas in the text

First read-through today for "Taming of the Shrew." I don't know if I've ever been daunted by a character like I am with Petruchio. I turned down an offer to play him previously because I couldn't find an interpretation I was comfortable with. But with a trusted friend as Kate, we're diving in.

I like the one where Vin Diesel collapses a whole building by stomping his foot because that's Diesel Power Baby.

It is so crucial that they made this on a low budget - the scope is right for the story, the cinematography perfect in evoking both the oppression and the beauty beyond while rarely leaving the bubble of our protagonists. The filmmakers trust the performers to carry us with them and it works.

Saw "The Long Walk." It's just what a movie of that book should be - bleak, fixed unblinkingly on a society grinding the light out of its children. @markhamillofficial.bsky.social giving such hissable arrogance as he barks platitudes of masculinity and willpower from the safety of his armored car.

Still from "The African Queen" with Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn half-submerged in water.

I don't know how it is for every writer, but for me there's always that hump where it's not about inspiration, just stubborn effort and faith. Got to tow that boat.

There's a scene in the classic film "The African Queen" where Humphrey Bogart is trying to free his boat from the muck by climbing into the chest-high water to drag it by a rope. Later he's laying on deck, sick & exhausted, and you see him realize he has no choice but to get back in and keep towing.

I'm in that stretch of a big writing project where I'm past the halfway mark of the first draft, but I'm not close enough to the end yet for closing momentum to take hold. It's traditionally the part that takes the most muscle to make progress. I always refer to it as "towing the boat" as an homage.

Newspaper personal ad with a picture of a man in a dark suit, caption reads: "This is Maxim Radovich Cristea. Absolutely everything has only that meaning, which meaning is meant only by Maxim Radovich Cristea and by no one else."

So apparently for at least a few months somebody has been taking out personal ads in the L.A. Times to share cryptic, ominous messages, or sometimes just to wish us a Happy California Day.

Can't wait for them to discover your work on "Sarah Connor Chronicles" and realize you must have access to time travel tech and used it just to offend them IN THE PAST.

Hard email to send today, turning down a proposal that was teasing me with the chance to fulfill a lifelong dream. But to survive this business, remember A) Don't talk yourself out of seeing those red flags, and B) You always have the power to say no. And you don't owe an explanation to anybody.

Screencap of a reviews page showing two 5-star reviews. Text of first: "A great video and my friend absolutely loved it. There was a lot of care and detail in the message, and I would 100% recommend Nicholas for a cameo if you're considering it. Thank you again!" Text of second: "Nicholas is a very sweet and kind man. I hope that many others continue supporting him! He is such an amazing figure in the creation industry. He's always willing to give great advice to help others. You will enjoy this experience with him!"

Two-for-two on 5-star reviews from Cameo. I like knowing it's bringing joy to people.

I re-animate Andy Warhol:

Andy Warhol: What's happening? Where am I?

Me: It's the future.

Andy Warhol: Is everyone famous for 15 minutes?

I explain podcasting.

Andy Warhol: Let me die again.

I tell students that the biggest fear for a storyteller is the blank page; because as soon as you put something on it, you open yourself to criticism, rejection, apathy. A.I. is for people who feel entitled to what they perceive as status with none of the risk or effort. Good job keeping at it.

Look beyond the dazzle, and the promises made by salespeople cosplaying as visionaries. Tune into your own feelings. Because that’s what matters. Not that the slopbot SAID you laughed and cried, but whether or not you actually did. After countless billions spent, I haven’t even chuckled. (END)

Saying it’s about saving money is a cop out. My last short film cost under $600 and has played multiple film festivals. It’s provoked real, wonderful, human laughter; and I’ve been blessed to experience it. Like I said, if I’m proven wrong I’ll admit it. But like the kids say - IT’S A SKILL ISSUE.