Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Goodbye George Carlin
First Richard Pryor left us. That was a blow, but in a way it wasn't that surprising. He suffered with MS for years before passing away. Before that disease announced itself he had stopped touring and was only doing film work every once in a while.
George Carlin was different. Even as late as March of this year he was still producing stand up specials. Still touring. Still writing books. Still being the grumpy, loud voice of reason in the world of absurdity we call the United States. A role that suited him even better the older he got. With that kind of track record and presence you just kind always think he'll be there.
And then he's gone.
In 1994 I got the chance to see him live. My favorite bit from that evening was his reading of An Incomplete List of Impolite Words and Phrases. Before reading it he stated that after every show someone would tell him a new one. True to form after reading it a couple of audience members told him a new one to add to the list. After the performance I picked up a poster that listed 2,443 Filthy Words and Phrases. My favorite: Waxing the Dolphin.
As a writer this was the part that always entranced me about his stand up: words and there meanings. From the seven words you can never say on television, to the definition of "stuff", Carlin was a master of tweaking our societal perceptions simply be tweaking the words we use everyday.
George Carlin was different. Even as late as March of this year he was still producing stand up specials. Still touring. Still writing books. Still being the grumpy, loud voice of reason in the world of absurdity we call the United States. A role that suited him even better the older he got. With that kind of track record and presence you just kind always think he'll be there.
And then he's gone.
In 1994 I got the chance to see him live. My favorite bit from that evening was his reading of An Incomplete List of Impolite Words and Phrases. Before reading it he stated that after every show someone would tell him a new one. True to form after reading it a couple of audience members told him a new one to add to the list. After the performance I picked up a poster that listed 2,443 Filthy Words and Phrases. My favorite: Waxing the Dolphin.
As a writer this was the part that always entranced me about his stand up: words and there meanings. From the seven words you can never say on television, to the definition of "stuff", Carlin was a master of tweaking our societal perceptions simply be tweaking the words we use everyday.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Experienced Rodent Killer For Hire
These photos and this post was inspired by two separate blogs by Nadia and her rodent troubles.
Last night, Robin, one of my house mates, told me that her cat Oliver had brought us a present and it was in the kitchen. Needless to say I very impressed.
I dare anyone to try and submit these to icanhazcheezebuger.com.
So if one needs a certified rodent killer we are willing to rent Oliver out to you. He works independently, feeds himself, and as you can see gets results.
If you want something smaller there is a "Ferocious Attack Kitten" for adoption on Craigslist.
Last night, Robin, one of my house mates, told me that her cat Oliver had brought us a present and it was in the kitchen. Needless to say I very impressed.
I dare anyone to try and submit these to icanhazcheezebuger.com.
So if one needs a certified rodent killer we are willing to rent Oliver out to you. He works independently, feeds himself, and as you can see gets results.
If you want something smaller there is a "Ferocious Attack Kitten" for adoption on Craigslist.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Attack of the Mailboxes
Hello Readers,
This is a short script that sprung from a dream I had one night. If anyone would like to turn it into a short film you have my permission as long as I am given writing credit and get to see the finished product.
Enjoy,
Ben
ATTACK OF THE MAILBOXES
EXT. CORNER STORE - NIGHT
DANNY, early 20’s, leaves a corner store carrying a brown paper bag. He walks towards his pride and joy, a late 60’s Chevelle. Candy apple red with black racing stripes running across the body it is obvious that this machine is built for power and speed.
Next to the dull blue postal MAILBOX Danny parked in front of the Chevelle looks even more fantastic.
The windows on the driver and passenger side are down revealing Greg's other pride and joy, SANDY. Barely out of her teens and barely able to contain her energy as she sits in the passenger side.
INT. CAR - NIGHT
SANDY
(Calling through the window.)
Did you get it?
EXT. CORNER STORE - CONTINUOUS
Danny pulls a six pack of beer out of the bag.
DANNY
Viola’.
INT. CAR
SANDY
Alright!
EXT. CORNER STORE
Danny sets the beer on top of the mailbox and crumbles up the brown paper bag. Opening the mailslot he shoves the brown ball into the mailbox.
Relieved of his trash burden, he snatches up the beer and flings open the drivers side door.
Which smashes into the side of the mailbox.
He slowly pulls the door away from revealing-
CLOSE ON
-a nice size dent in the door.
EXT. CAR - CONTINUOUS
DANNY
Ahh, man!!
He looks with contempt at the mailbox.
DANNY
Stupid mailbox. You dented my door.
And hits it a few times.
INT. CAR
SANDY
Danny, come on. You’re a smart guy, I’m sure you can fix it.
EXT. CAR
DANNY
(Smiling.)
You’re right. I can fix this.
(Smacking the mailbox one more time.)
Nice try Mr. Box.
With this final flourish, Danny gets into the car and closes the door.
INT. CAR
Sandy take a beer from Danny and pops one open.
SANDY
Alirght, let’s get going; they’re probably waiting for us.
DANNY
(Keying the ignition.)
You got it babe.
EXT. CORNER STORE
The car drives off leaving the mailbox in a cloud of dust.
INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER
SANDY
So Bret has got this new girl who is supposed to be there tonight.
DANNY
Really?
SANDY
Yeah. And Cindy is just totally stressed about it. I mean I don’t know why she just didn’t tell him to not come over.
DANNY
Cindy has always had trouble telling Bret no.
SANDY
Yeah. If she had done that the first time around she wouldn’t be in this situation.
EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS
As the car speeds down the road a mailbox appears in the middle of the street.
INT. CAR
Danny slams on the brakes
DANNY
What the -
SANDY
Why would somebody put a mailbox in the middle of road?
DANNY
I don’t know. Probably some jerk playing a prank.
Danny turns the wheel to go around the mailbox. Sandy grabs his arm.
SANDY
Wait. Shouldn’t we move it?
DANNY
(Continuing to drive around it.)
No, let’s just get going.
SANDY
But somebody might get hurt.
DANNY
It’s just a mailbox. And besides I’m sure someone else will take care of it.
Sandy watches out the window as the car goes around the mailbox.
EXT. STREET
The car drives off leaving the mailbox in a cloud of dust and exhaust.
INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER
As Danny and Sandy sit in awkward silence another mailbox appears in the headlights. Danny slams on brakes and they both stare at it for a second.
SANDY
Danny what’s going on?
DANNY
I don’t know.
SANDY
(Looking around.)
Is somebody messing with us?
DANNY
Maybe, let’s just keep going. We’re only a few miles from Cindy’s.
EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS
The car drives off leaving the mailbox behind.
EXT. STREET
Another mailbox appears in the middle of the street.
INT. CAR
DANNY
This is ridiculous.
He turns the wheel and maneuvers around the mailbox without hitting the brake.
SANDY
Danny I don’t like this.
Before he can reply another mailbox appears before them.
EXT. STREET
The car swerves to the left barely missing the mailbox.
INT. CAR
DANNY
What is going on?
SANDY
Danny look out!
EXT. STREET
A series of mailboxes are lined up down the street forming an obstacle course.
The car swerves from the left to the right like an slalom course going around each mailbox.
INT. CAR
SANDY
Why is this happening?
DANNY
I don’t know.
SANDY
(Peering out windshield.)
Oh my God, what is that?
EXT. CAR
A row of mailboxes is blocking their lane.
INT. CAR
DANNY
Hold on!
He jerks the wheel violently to left.
EXT. CAR
The car swerves into the next lane avoiding the mailboxes.
INT. CAR
SANDY
(Pointing in front of them.)
Look out!
Through the windshield another row of mailboxes stands in their lane. Danny pulls the wheel to the right.
EXT. CAR
The car brushes past the row of mailboxes and sails into the other lane.
It moves forward a few seconds and then another row of mailboxes blocks their lane.
INT. CAR
DANNY
What the-
He jerks the wheel violently to the left.
DANNY
This is not funny.
SANDY
I don’t think it’s a joke.
As they approach the intersection their exits are blocked on the right and left by a row of mailboxes forcing them to drive forward. In the streetlights they appear ominous and menacing. Danny slows down the car and they both look out the windows inspecting them.
SANDY
(Hitting Danny’s shoulder.)
Go, go, go! Cindy’s house is only a block away.
The car speeds on down the block until they reach the next intersection. Mailboxes are lined up in front of them three deep and have also blocked the left side. The car screeches to a halt.
DANNY
What do we do?
SANDY
Go back.
Danny glances into the rearview mirror.
DANNY
I can’t.
SANDY
(Turning around.)
What do you mean-
EXT. CAR
A line of mailboxes is blocking the road behind them.
Sandy gets out of the car.
DANNY
Sandy what are you doing?
SANDY
Her house is right there.
She walks over to the mailboxes, stopping a few feet in front of them.
SANDY
Cinnndyyy! Cinndyy! Cindy!
INT. CINDY’S HOUSE
Various people around the same age as Danny and Sandy are sitting in the living room unaware of what is happening outside.
EXT. CAR
Sandy stares off at the Cindy’s house accepting the fact that she will not be able to hear her.
In frustration she hits one of the mailboxes.
After a few seconds of silence a long, slow, metallic hissing emanates from the mailbox and spreads to others.
Sandy watches in disbelief as the chorus grows louder and louder.
DANNY
Sandy come on!
She is frozen, caught up in the unbelievable.
Danny runs up to her and grabs her by the arm.
DANNY
Come on, lets go. Let’s get the hell out of here.
Sandy snaps out of her shock and runs with Danny back to the car.
INT. CAR
They slam the doors shut and Danny floors it.
EXT. STREET
The car speeds away in a cloud of dust.
INT. CAR
SANDY
What are we going to do?
DANNY
We’re going to get the hell out of here that’s what going to do.
EXT. CAR
The car speeds down the street. Each intersection of the deserted suburban streets is blocked off on the right and left by the mailboxes.
INT. CAR
Scanning the blocks ahead Danny pushes the peddle down further. The car races down the street. Each intersection is blocked by the mailboxes.
After a few moments of hurtling at top speed, Danny slams on the brakes.
EXT. STREET
The car fishtails and shudders to a stop several yards past the last intersection.
INT. CAR
DANNY
This is ridiculous. They probably have everyone of them blocked.
SANDY
What are we going to do?
DANNY
Hold on.
EXT. STREET
The car backs up into the lawn behind it, aiming the front of at one of mailbox blockades.
INT. CAR
Danny shifts into neutral and revs the motor a few times, each roar of the engine growing louder.
Slamming the gas pedal down, he throws the engine into drive.
EXT. STREET
Deep gouges are cut into the lawn as the car speeds towards the mailboxes.
INT. CAR
DANNY
Here we go!
With a crash, the car breaks through the roadblock and speeds off.
The next intersection they approach is a T-section with the left side blocked by three rows of mailboxes.
Danny jerks the wheel to the right.
EXT. STREET
The car swerves sharply to the right and barrels down the street.
INT. CAR
SANDY
Did we lose them?
They both scan the sides of the streets as the vehicle hurtles down the street. The neighborhood is deserted again.
DANNY
I think so.
The tension dissolves for a moment.
SANDY
Oh my God, look.
EXT. STREET
The car comes to a stop in the middle of the street.
At the end of the block rows of mailboxes, three to four deep, stretch across the street.
INT. CAR
SANDY
We’re never going to get away are we?
Danny puts the car in neutral and guns the motor.
SANDY
What are you doing?
DANNY
I’m going to go for it.
SANDY
No! Their are too many of them.
DANNY
Just trust me alright.
He pushes the gas pedal all the way to the floor and rips the motor into drive.
EXT. STREET
The car launches into the mailboxes unleashing a torrent of metal on metal which only results in pushing a few rows backward.
There is no gap to escape through and the mailboxes now surround the front part of the vehicle.
INT. CAR
DANNY
No! No! No!
He fumbles to lock the car into reverse.
SANDY
Do something! Do something!
DANNY
I’m trying.
Danny jams the car into reverse.
EXT. STREET
The car flies backwards from the blockade.
As the vehicle moves the mailboxes slide back into position.
INT. CAR
Sandy turns around to see where they are going.
SANDY
Oh my God Danny! Look out!
EXT. STREET
The car slams into a thick line of mailboxes which have assembled behind them.
INT. CAR
Startled, Danny fumbles for the gear shift. As the mailboxes surround the rear of the car Sandy screams grabbing Danny’s hand.
DANNY
(Shoving her away.)
What are you doing!?
Danny throws the car into drive and pulls away from the mailboxes.
As they did before the mailboxes move back into position.
SANDY
I’m sorry, I’m just so scared.
DANNY
It’s alright.
Rows of mailboxes block the road in front and back of them.
SANDY
what are we going to do?
DANNY
(Looking around.)
I don’t kn-. Hey. Look.
Danny points out his window towards on dark wooden fenced alley. It is longer than the street they are on but only half as wide.
SANDY
No, no, no. We’ll never make it.
DANNY
Do you have any better ideas?
SANDY
Let’s just stay here. They probably just want to hold us here.
EXT. STREET
The front line of mailboxes slowly starts scooting towards the car.
INT. CAR
SANDY
(Overlapping.)
No, no, no, no, no.
DANNY
Look I’ll gun the motor at top speed. We outran them before. We can do it again.
(Beat.)
Do you have any better ideas!?
Sandy shakes her head no.
DANNY
Alright, hang on.
He guns the motor and shoots the car into the alley.
EXT. ALLEY
Kicking up dirt and trash, the car hurtles down the alley. The end is illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. They are almost there.
INT. CAR
SANDY
Are we going to make it?
EXT. ALLEY
As they approach the end of the alley is flooded by mailboxes until a virtual see of blue fills the space in front of them.
INT. CAR
Sandy screams as the car plows into the mailboxes. The force of the crash was enough to push the hood of the car out of the alley.
The mailboxes slowly scrape their way down the sides of the car.
SANDY
Oh my God! Back up! Back up!
Frantically, Danny puts the car in reverse and throws the pedal to the floor. The car shoots back a few yards and crashes to a halt.
They both spin around in their seats to see-
EXT. ALLEY
-another sea of mailboxes surrounding the car behind them. Both lines of mailboxes advance upon the vehicle scrapping up the sides.
INT. CAR
DANNY
Lock the doors.
They both slam their hands down on the locks and move into the center sitting as close as possible.
SANDY
What’s going to happen to us?
DANNY
I don’t know. I don’t know.
The mailboxes move in around the sides of car.
DANNY
Wait! The windows!
As they dive for the handles to roll up the windows, mail begins pouring out of the mailslots and into the car. They are both pelted with envelopes of all shapes and sizes as they turn the handles.
CLOSE ON
Sandy’s bracelet caught on the handle.
Danny get his window up and turns to Sandy who is struggling to fight around a growing pile of mail.
DANNY
What are you doing!?
SANDY
I’m stuck.
A pile of mail has engulfed Sandy up to her chest. Danny thrust his hand into the pile fishing for the handle.
The car jolts suddenly. They both look around and see the mailboxes pushing against the car. With the force of linebackers smashing into the sides, the vehicle rocks from side to side. [The rocking action continues throughout the rest of the scene.]
Danny keeps digging for the handle as more mail pours into the car.
DANNY
I can’t get to it.
The drivers side windows smash open and mail starts pouring into the rest of the car. In a panic Danny grabs Sandy’s arm and starts pulling.
DANNY
Yank it lose!
SANDY
I can’t!
DANNY
Break it. Just break it!
SANDY
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! This is it isn’t it?
DANNY
No, no! You’re not.
By this point the front of the car is filled up to their necks and the backseat is slowly filling up. Danny crawls over the backseat, locking his hands under her shoulders and pulling with all his strength.
The envelopes continue to pour in and are spilling over from the front seat.
SANDY
I can’t breath.
DANNY
(Moving to the center of the car.)
No, no! You have to get lose.
(Grabbing her hand.)
Come on. Come on!
As the front of the car completely fills with paper Sandy’s hand goes limp.
DANNY
(Shaking her hand.)
Sandy? . . . Sandy?!
Realizing she is gone, Danny looks around and notices that the floorboards of the backseat are packed with mail. More continues to spill in from the busted windows and the front of the car.
He begins yanking and pulling feverishly on the backseat trying to pry it lose. After a few moments the top of the seat comes lose and pulls away from the frame. Danny crawls through the slot and pulls the seat closed behind him.
INT. TRUNK
In the darkness we here Danny’s breathing and the thudding of the mailboxes against the car.
Suddenly the trunk lid pops open. Startled, Danny looks for an escape but is deluged by a torrent of mail. The envelopes quickly fill the trunk before he even has a chance to escape.
Then the first row parts and the dented mailbox from the corner store slides forward. It’s mailslot opens up and out shoots a crumbled brown paper bag.
With this last bit of business done the mailboxes shuffle and slide out of the alley leaving a car overflowing with mail.
This is a short script that sprung from a dream I had one night. If anyone would like to turn it into a short film you have my permission as long as I am given writing credit and get to see the finished product.
Enjoy,
Ben
EXT. CORNER STORE - NIGHT
DANNY, early 20’s, leaves a corner store carrying a brown paper bag. He walks towards his pride and joy, a late 60’s Chevelle. Candy apple red with black racing stripes running across the body it is obvious that this machine is built for power and speed.
Next to the dull blue postal MAILBOX Danny parked in front of the Chevelle looks even more fantastic.
The windows on the driver and passenger side are down revealing Greg's other pride and joy, SANDY. Barely out of her teens and barely able to contain her energy as she sits in the passenger side.
INT. CAR - NIGHT
(Calling through the window.)
Did you get it?
EXT. CORNER STORE - CONTINUOUS
Danny pulls a six pack of beer out of the bag.
Viola’.
INT. CAR
Alright!
EXT. CORNER STORE
Danny sets the beer on top of the mailbox and crumbles up the brown paper bag. Opening the mailslot he shoves the brown ball into the mailbox.
Relieved of his trash burden, he snatches up the beer and flings open the drivers side door.
Which smashes into the side of the mailbox.
He slowly pulls the door away from revealing-
CLOSE ON
-a nice size dent in the door.
EXT. CAR - CONTINUOUS
Ahh, man!!
He looks with contempt at the mailbox.
Stupid mailbox. You dented my door.
And hits it a few times.
INT. CAR
Danny, come on. You’re a smart guy, I’m sure you can fix it.
EXT. CAR
(Smiling.)
You’re right. I can fix this.
(Smacking the mailbox one more time.)
Nice try Mr. Box.
With this final flourish, Danny gets into the car and closes the door.
INT. CAR
Sandy take a beer from Danny and pops one open.
Alirght, let’s get going; they’re probably waiting for us.
(Keying the ignition.)
You got it babe.
EXT. CORNER STORE
The car drives off leaving the mailbox in a cloud of dust.
INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER
So Bret has got this new girl who is supposed to be there tonight.
Really?
Yeah. And Cindy is just totally stressed about it. I mean I don’t know why she just didn’t tell him to not come over.
Cindy has always had trouble telling Bret no.
Yeah. If she had done that the first time around she wouldn’t be in this situation.
EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS
As the car speeds down the road a mailbox appears in the middle of the street.
INT. CAR
Danny slams on the brakes
What the -
Why would somebody put a mailbox in the middle of road?
I don’t know. Probably some jerk playing a prank.
Danny turns the wheel to go around the mailbox. Sandy grabs his arm.
Wait. Shouldn’t we move it?
(Continuing to drive around it.)
No, let’s just get going.
But somebody might get hurt.
It’s just a mailbox. And besides I’m sure someone else will take care of it.
Sandy watches out the window as the car goes around the mailbox.
EXT. STREET
The car drives off leaving the mailbox in a cloud of dust and exhaust.
INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER
As Danny and Sandy sit in awkward silence another mailbox appears in the headlights. Danny slams on brakes and they both stare at it for a second.
Danny what’s going on?
I don’t know.
(Looking around.)
Is somebody messing with us?
Maybe, let’s just keep going. We’re only a few miles from Cindy’s.
EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS
The car drives off leaving the mailbox behind.
EXT. STREET
Another mailbox appears in the middle of the street.
INT. CAR
This is ridiculous.
He turns the wheel and maneuvers around the mailbox without hitting the brake.
Danny I don’t like this.
Before he can reply another mailbox appears before them.
EXT. STREET
The car swerves to the left barely missing the mailbox.
INT. CAR
What is going on?
Danny look out!
EXT. STREET
A series of mailboxes are lined up down the street forming an obstacle course.
The car swerves from the left to the right like an slalom course going around each mailbox.
INT. CAR
Why is this happening?
I don’t know.
(Peering out windshield.)
Oh my God, what is that?
EXT. CAR
A row of mailboxes is blocking their lane.
INT. CAR
Hold on!
He jerks the wheel violently to left.
EXT. CAR
The car swerves into the next lane avoiding the mailboxes.
INT. CAR
(Pointing in front of them.)
Look out!
Through the windshield another row of mailboxes stands in their lane. Danny pulls the wheel to the right.
EXT. CAR
The car brushes past the row of mailboxes and sails into the other lane.
It moves forward a few seconds and then another row of mailboxes blocks their lane.
INT. CAR
What the-
He jerks the wheel violently to the left.
This is not funny.
I don’t think it’s a joke.
As they approach the intersection their exits are blocked on the right and left by a row of mailboxes forcing them to drive forward. In the streetlights they appear ominous and menacing. Danny slows down the car and they both look out the windows inspecting them.
(Hitting Danny’s shoulder.)
Go, go, go! Cindy’s house is only a block away.
The car speeds on down the block until they reach the next intersection. Mailboxes are lined up in front of them three deep and have also blocked the left side. The car screeches to a halt.
What do we do?
Go back.
Danny glances into the rearview mirror.
I can’t.
(Turning around.)
What do you mean-
EXT. CAR
A line of mailboxes is blocking the road behind them.
Sandy gets out of the car.
Sandy what are you doing?
Her house is right there.
She walks over to the mailboxes, stopping a few feet in front of them.
Cinnndyyy! Cinndyy! Cindy!
INT. CINDY’S HOUSE
Various people around the same age as Danny and Sandy are sitting in the living room unaware of what is happening outside.
EXT. CAR
Sandy stares off at the Cindy’s house accepting the fact that she will not be able to hear her.
In frustration she hits one of the mailboxes.
After a few seconds of silence a long, slow, metallic hissing emanates from the mailbox and spreads to others.
Sandy watches in disbelief as the chorus grows louder and louder.
Sandy come on!
She is frozen, caught up in the unbelievable.
Danny runs up to her and grabs her by the arm.
Come on, lets go. Let’s get the hell out of here.
Sandy snaps out of her shock and runs with Danny back to the car.
INT. CAR
They slam the doors shut and Danny floors it.
EXT. STREET
The car speeds away in a cloud of dust.
INT. CAR
What are we going to do?
We’re going to get the hell out of here that’s what going to do.
EXT. CAR
The car speeds down the street. Each intersection of the deserted suburban streets is blocked off on the right and left by the mailboxes.
INT. CAR
Scanning the blocks ahead Danny pushes the peddle down further. The car races down the street. Each intersection is blocked by the mailboxes.
After a few moments of hurtling at top speed, Danny slams on the brakes.
EXT. STREET
The car fishtails and shudders to a stop several yards past the last intersection.
INT. CAR
This is ridiculous. They probably have everyone of them blocked.
What are we going to do?
Hold on.
EXT. STREET
The car backs up into the lawn behind it, aiming the front of at one of mailbox blockades.
INT. CAR
Danny shifts into neutral and revs the motor a few times, each roar of the engine growing louder.
Slamming the gas pedal down, he throws the engine into drive.
EXT. STREET
Deep gouges are cut into the lawn as the car speeds towards the mailboxes.
INT. CAR
Here we go!
With a crash, the car breaks through the roadblock and speeds off.
The next intersection they approach is a T-section with the left side blocked by three rows of mailboxes.
Danny jerks the wheel to the right.
EXT. STREET
The car swerves sharply to the right and barrels down the street.
INT. CAR
Did we lose them?
They both scan the sides of the streets as the vehicle hurtles down the street. The neighborhood is deserted again.
I think so.
The tension dissolves for a moment.
Oh my God, look.
EXT. STREET
The car comes to a stop in the middle of the street.
At the end of the block rows of mailboxes, three to four deep, stretch across the street.
INT. CAR
We’re never going to get away are we?
Danny puts the car in neutral and guns the motor.
What are you doing?
I’m going to go for it.
No! Their are too many of them.
Just trust me alright.
He pushes the gas pedal all the way to the floor and rips the motor into drive.
EXT. STREET
The car launches into the mailboxes unleashing a torrent of metal on metal which only results in pushing a few rows backward.
There is no gap to escape through and the mailboxes now surround the front part of the vehicle.
INT. CAR
No! No! No!
He fumbles to lock the car into reverse.
Do something! Do something!
I’m trying.
Danny jams the car into reverse.
EXT. STREET
The car flies backwards from the blockade.
As the vehicle moves the mailboxes slide back into position.
INT. CAR
Sandy turns around to see where they are going.
Oh my God Danny! Look out!
EXT. STREET
The car slams into a thick line of mailboxes which have assembled behind them.
INT. CAR
Startled, Danny fumbles for the gear shift. As the mailboxes surround the rear of the car Sandy screams grabbing Danny’s hand.
(Shoving her away.)
What are you doing!?
Danny throws the car into drive and pulls away from the mailboxes.
As they did before the mailboxes move back into position.
I’m sorry, I’m just so scared.
It’s alright.
Rows of mailboxes block the road in front and back of them.
what are we going to do?
(Looking around.)
I don’t kn-. Hey. Look.
Danny points out his window towards on dark wooden fenced alley. It is longer than the street they are on but only half as wide.
No, no, no. We’ll never make it.
Do you have any better ideas?
Let’s just stay here. They probably just want to hold us here.
EXT. STREET
The front line of mailboxes slowly starts scooting towards the car.
INT. CAR
(Overlapping.)
No, no, no, no, no.
Look I’ll gun the motor at top speed. We outran them before. We can do it again.
(Beat.)
Do you have any better ideas!?
Sandy shakes her head no.
Alright, hang on.
He guns the motor and shoots the car into the alley.
EXT. ALLEY
Kicking up dirt and trash, the car hurtles down the alley. The end is illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. They are almost there.
INT. CAR
Are we going to make it?
EXT. ALLEY
As they approach the end of the alley is flooded by mailboxes until a virtual see of blue fills the space in front of them.
INT. CAR
Sandy screams as the car plows into the mailboxes. The force of the crash was enough to push the hood of the car out of the alley.
The mailboxes slowly scrape their way down the sides of the car.
Oh my God! Back up! Back up!
Frantically, Danny puts the car in reverse and throws the pedal to the floor. The car shoots back a few yards and crashes to a halt.
They both spin around in their seats to see-
EXT. ALLEY
-another sea of mailboxes surrounding the car behind them. Both lines of mailboxes advance upon the vehicle scrapping up the sides.
INT. CAR
Lock the doors.
They both slam their hands down on the locks and move into the center sitting as close as possible.
What’s going to happen to us?
I don’t know. I don’t know.
The mailboxes move in around the sides of car.
Wait! The windows!
As they dive for the handles to roll up the windows, mail begins pouring out of the mailslots and into the car. They are both pelted with envelopes of all shapes and sizes as they turn the handles.
CLOSE ON
Sandy’s bracelet caught on the handle.
Danny get his window up and turns to Sandy who is struggling to fight around a growing pile of mail.
What are you doing!?
I’m stuck.
A pile of mail has engulfed Sandy up to her chest. Danny thrust his hand into the pile fishing for the handle.
The car jolts suddenly. They both look around and see the mailboxes pushing against the car. With the force of linebackers smashing into the sides, the vehicle rocks from side to side. [The rocking action continues throughout the rest of the scene.]
Danny keeps digging for the handle as more mail pours into the car.
I can’t get to it.
The drivers side windows smash open and mail starts pouring into the rest of the car. In a panic Danny grabs Sandy’s arm and starts pulling.
Yank it lose!
I can’t!
Break it. Just break it!
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! This is it isn’t it?
No, no! You’re not.
By this point the front of the car is filled up to their necks and the backseat is slowly filling up. Danny crawls over the backseat, locking his hands under her shoulders and pulling with all his strength.
The envelopes continue to pour in and are spilling over from the front seat.
I can’t breath.
(Moving to the center of the car.)
No, no! You have to get lose.
(Grabbing her hand.)
Come on. Come on!
As the front of the car completely fills with paper Sandy’s hand goes limp.
(Shaking her hand.)
Sandy? . . . Sandy?!
Realizing she is gone, Danny looks around and notices that the floorboards of the backseat are packed with mail. More continues to spill in from the busted windows and the front of the car.
He begins yanking and pulling feverishly on the backseat trying to pry it lose. After a few moments the top of the seat comes lose and pulls away from the frame. Danny crawls through the slot and pulls the seat closed behind him.
INT. TRUNK
In the darkness we here Danny’s breathing and the thudding of the mailboxes against the car.
Suddenly the trunk lid pops open. Startled, Danny looks for an escape but is deluged by a torrent of mail. The envelopes quickly fill the trunk before he even has a chance to escape.
Then the first row parts and the dented mailbox from the corner store slides forward. It’s mailslot opens up and out shoots a crumbled brown paper bag.
With this last bit of business done the mailboxes shuffle and slide out of the alley leaving a car overflowing with mail.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
George Lucas Please Stop
After seeing Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull I was going to rip on every aspect of the film that bothered me. From Lucas' trying to turn Shia LaBeouf, who could easily pass for Zach Braff's younger, less aggressive brother, into Marlon Brando from The Wild Ones to the triple waterfall dive in the duck truck, which was neither exciting nor believable. Then as I thought about it more there are aspects of all the films that have struck me as implausible or annoying.
For example, how the hell did Indy survive being attached to a submarine in Raiders of the Lost Ark. At the beginning of Temple of Doom there was the totally unbelievable life raft jump from a plane onto a raging river. The entire dirigible escape sequence in The Last Crusade, while really exciting, was a series of unbelievable coincidences. As for annoying characters Temple of Doom's Willie Scott and Short Round are perfect examples of characters whose only purpose seemed to be getting in the way.
The main element that help made these movies believable in spite of the occasional lapses in reality were the quests themselves. The Arc of the Covenant, the Holy Grail, and Shakra Stones were objects you could believe existing in the real world. It was enough to make you want to find them yourself. Beyond that a was reverence and mysticism surrounding those objects that allowed such gimmicks as melting faces, giving immortality, or spontaneous combustion to be believable.
The crystal skull mentioned in the title of the film also has an inherent mysticism surrounding it. It has magnetic properties and can turn veteran reserved stage actor John Hurt into a gibbering buffoon. But when Indy tells us that it was constructed so flawlessly that there was no way it could have been made on earth you know where this movie is headed. My hope was that Lucas and Co. stopped just short of the point of ridiculousness. If only we were so lucky. Instead we learn that the crystal skull is part of an alien's skeleton. The alien artifact angle is difficult enough to swallow, but even on an alien world it would be biologically impossible to have a crystal skeleton. (Christ, I sound like such a nerd.) At this point in the film I started chewing on my straw to keep from screaming out "You got to fucking kidding me!"
The coup de gras in this train wreck of distorted logic and storytelling was the ending. Since I had no choice but to go with them on this I believed that an alien culture had come down and taught the natives about irrigation, language, farming, hunting, and everything else. I also decided to believe that attaching the skull to the alien skeleton would initiate some sort of launch sequence revealing an alien spacecraft buried in the mountains of Peru. What I refuse to believe, and where Lucas and Co. lost me, was the appearance of an actual alien to burn out Cate Blanchette's eyes. No matter how much mysticism they wish to place upon the skull it is impossible to believe that thirteen spinning crystal skeletons would fuse into one live in the flesh alien.
Walking out of the theater I muttered to myself, "Aliens. Seriously, fucking aliens. That fricken movie turned into Close Encounters of the Worst Kind."
This brings us back to the title of this missive. At this point in his career George Lucas has become famous for being an egomaniac of Orwellian proportions. Do a little bit of research and you will uncover that the original story idea involving aliens was from Lucas. It was a story element that both Steven Spielberg and Harrison Ford, the only other people with veto power on the script, both said was ridiculous. This explains why it took nineteen years to get them to finally agree to this ludicrous plot element. After all, having the media, friends, and family steadily ask you when the next Indiana Jones film is coming out could become annoying enough to simply succumb to this monumental stupid idea. So, without further preamble:
Dear Mr. Lucas,
Please stop writing and directing.
Just stop.
At this point in your career your main strengths are building up the effects powerhouse that is Lucasfilm and helping to fund independent films. Your strength is not in writing or directing. It never really was if you think about it. The only film that worked on both levels was American Graffiti. Mainly because it was a subject near and dear to your heart. Even though I and millions of others absolutely loved Star Wars, I mean Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, I suspect it was kind of fluke that it went so well. Either that or your instincts and chops were more honed when you were in debt.
If you wish to keep writing and directing my suggestion is to focus on producing quality children's entertainment. This seems only natural since you keep telling everyone that the Star Wars and Indiana Jones cycles are meant for younger audiences. (Although truth be told, I think even I seven year old would wonder what a spaceship was doing in that movie.) Besides have seen the crap that is on Cartoon Network or the pseudo-Christian propaganda that is passing from children's films. The only person out there making quality, smart, and fun movies for people under the age of twelve is Robert Rodriquez - a fellow student of the old DIY school. You would sweep up in that field. As an added bonus you would still get your original fan base coming to the films even though they are not made for us.
But please stop writing and directing. You're just fucking killing us with how bad it has become.
Sincerely,
Ben Holley
A Beleaguered Fan
For example, how the hell did Indy survive being attached to a submarine in Raiders of the Lost Ark. At the beginning of Temple of Doom there was the totally unbelievable life raft jump from a plane onto a raging river. The entire dirigible escape sequence in The Last Crusade, while really exciting, was a series of unbelievable coincidences. As for annoying characters Temple of Doom's Willie Scott and Short Round are perfect examples of characters whose only purpose seemed to be getting in the way.
The main element that help made these movies believable in spite of the occasional lapses in reality were the quests themselves. The Arc of the Covenant, the Holy Grail, and Shakra Stones were objects you could believe existing in the real world. It was enough to make you want to find them yourself. Beyond that a was reverence and mysticism surrounding those objects that allowed such gimmicks as melting faces, giving immortality, or spontaneous combustion to be believable.
The crystal skull mentioned in the title of the film also has an inherent mysticism surrounding it. It has magnetic properties and can turn veteran reserved stage actor John Hurt into a gibbering buffoon. But when Indy tells us that it was constructed so flawlessly that there was no way it could have been made on earth you know where this movie is headed. My hope was that Lucas and Co. stopped just short of the point of ridiculousness. If only we were so lucky. Instead we learn that the crystal skull is part of an alien's skeleton. The alien artifact angle is difficult enough to swallow, but even on an alien world it would be biologically impossible to have a crystal skeleton. (Christ, I sound like such a nerd.) At this point in the film I started chewing on my straw to keep from screaming out "You got to fucking kidding me!"
The coup de gras in this train wreck of distorted logic and storytelling was the ending. Since I had no choice but to go with them on this I believed that an alien culture had come down and taught the natives about irrigation, language, farming, hunting, and everything else. I also decided to believe that attaching the skull to the alien skeleton would initiate some sort of launch sequence revealing an alien spacecraft buried in the mountains of Peru. What I refuse to believe, and where Lucas and Co. lost me, was the appearance of an actual alien to burn out Cate Blanchette's eyes. No matter how much mysticism they wish to place upon the skull it is impossible to believe that thirteen spinning crystal skeletons would fuse into one live in the flesh alien.
Walking out of the theater I muttered to myself, "Aliens. Seriously, fucking aliens. That fricken movie turned into Close Encounters of the Worst Kind."
This brings us back to the title of this missive. At this point in his career George Lucas has become famous for being an egomaniac of Orwellian proportions. Do a little bit of research and you will uncover that the original story idea involving aliens was from Lucas. It was a story element that both Steven Spielberg and Harrison Ford, the only other people with veto power on the script, both said was ridiculous. This explains why it took nineteen years to get them to finally agree to this ludicrous plot element. After all, having the media, friends, and family steadily ask you when the next Indiana Jones film is coming out could become annoying enough to simply succumb to this monumental stupid idea. So, without further preamble:
Dear Mr. Lucas,
Please stop writing and directing.
Just stop.
At this point in your career your main strengths are building up the effects powerhouse that is Lucasfilm and helping to fund independent films. Your strength is not in writing or directing. It never really was if you think about it. The only film that worked on both levels was American Graffiti. Mainly because it was a subject near and dear to your heart. Even though I and millions of others absolutely loved Star Wars, I mean Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, I suspect it was kind of fluke that it went so well. Either that or your instincts and chops were more honed when you were in debt.
If you wish to keep writing and directing my suggestion is to focus on producing quality children's entertainment. This seems only natural since you keep telling everyone that the Star Wars and Indiana Jones cycles are meant for younger audiences. (Although truth be told, I think even I seven year old would wonder what a spaceship was doing in that movie.) Besides have seen the crap that is on Cartoon Network or the pseudo-Christian propaganda that is passing from children's films. The only person out there making quality, smart, and fun movies for people under the age of twelve is Robert Rodriquez - a fellow student of the old DIY school. You would sweep up in that field. As an added bonus you would still get your original fan base coming to the films even though they are not made for us.
But please stop writing and directing. You're just fucking killing us with how bad it has become.
Sincerely,
Ben Holley
A Beleaguered Fan
Monday, June 2, 2008
Burning Man Art Preview: Muytopia
Muytopia from the Flaming Lotus Girls at Maker Faire
Walking up I thought, 'Is that it?'
The Flaming Lotus Girls are known, some would say legendary, for their huge fire arts displays. Their piece for Burning Man in 2006 was entitled Mother Serpent. It was a huge snake coiling around an eight foot tall egg. The coil was about fifty yards in circumference with the head ending up swaying about fifteen feet off the ground. It was a beautiful, fantastic, flame spouting wonder.
When I walked up to there current project, Muytopia, what struck me the most was how small it was.
(
Eight feet tall, four feet wide, with hydraulic wings and head. It was impressive, but even with the flames shooting out of it I was far from impressed.
Walking around to the other side I struck up a conversation with one of the Flaming Lotus Girls, an amazingly hot Eastern European named Sasha. I may be wrong on the name, after all it is really difficult to concentrate when you have something spouting flames next to you.
"I am a little surprised," I responded to the atypical artist question of "What do you think?"
"I thought it would be bigger."
"Oh that's just one piece."
"One?"
"There are going to be thirteen of them. With all different sizes. This one will be the middle sized one I think."
Looking at it from that perspective all I could think was 'Holy shit, this thing going to be immense.
Walking up I thought, 'Is that it?'
The Flaming Lotus Girls are known, some would say legendary, for their huge fire arts displays. Their piece for Burning Man in 2006 was entitled Mother Serpent. It was a huge snake coiling around an eight foot tall egg. The coil was about fifty yards in circumference with the head ending up swaying about fifteen feet off the ground. It was a beautiful, fantastic, flame spouting wonder.
When I walked up to there current project, Muytopia, what struck me the most was how small it was.
(Eight feet tall, four feet wide, with hydraulic wings and head. It was impressive, but even with the flames shooting out of it I was far from impressed.
Walking around to the other side I struck up a conversation with one of the Flaming Lotus Girls, an amazingly hot Eastern European named Sasha. I may be wrong on the name, after all it is really difficult to concentrate when you have something spouting flames next to you.
"I am a little surprised," I responded to the atypical artist question of "What do you think?"
"I thought it would be bigger."
"Oh that's just one piece."
"One?"
"There are going to be thirteen of them. With all different sizes. This one will be the middle sized one I think."
Looking at it from that perspective all I could think was 'Holy shit, this thing going to be immense.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
What A Month Should Look Like
I wondered why May seemed so long.
It's also interesting to note that I really haven't felt like I've done much lately.
It's also interesting to note that I really haven't felt like I've done much lately.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Google Search: "study break"
Since it is finals for myself and thousands upon thousand of other students here are some of the results pulled from a Google search of "study break."
The first page of websites were pretty bland this was the most interesting.
This playlist is a little more interesting. I'll give a whirl next week.
Perhaps a video search will net more interesting results.
Hmm . . . view this maybe not. But these two do explain why so many students study in the library. On second thought maybe the library isn't the best place to study.
If you want a online study break that doesn't involve Facebook, MySpace, or AIM then return to these tried and true favorites:
Best of Craigslist - dysfunction and social commentary in one place.
icanhavecheezeburger - mindless and funny.
Adult Swim - smoother video streams and awesome games.
Funny or Die - Judd Apatow's page is worth the visit alone.
Ghosttowns.com - plan your summer break.
The first page of websites were pretty bland this was the most interesting.
This playlist is a little more interesting. I'll give a whirl next week.
Perhaps a video search will net more interesting results.
Hmm . . . view this maybe not. But these two do explain why so many students study in the library. On second thought maybe the library isn't the best place to study.
If you want a online study break that doesn't involve Facebook, MySpace, or AIM then return to these tried and true favorites:
Best of Craigslist - dysfunction and social commentary in one place.
icanhavecheezeburger - mindless and funny.
Adult Swim - smoother video streams and awesome games.
Funny or Die - Judd Apatow's page is worth the visit alone.
Ghosttowns.com - plan your summer break.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
I Love Stockton
To the Moron Who Tried To Jack My Car (Safeway, Pacific at Ben Holt)
Reply to: pers-670705879@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-05-06, 4:40PM PDT
You epitomize everything that is wrong with Stockton. I don't mean the high crime rate, the mortgage crisis, or the 30 degree fluctuation in temperature. Those are a given. No, it is the fact that you, Mr. Moronic Car Thief, failed to steal my car. Another uncompleted task from the populous of this fantastic city I live in.
You did a good job of knocking the locking cylinder into the door. For some reason you did not smash it in far enough to break the locking mechanism. There are plenty of reasons to speculate, but I think it's because you are stupid. If you examined your handiwork then you would have seen you had managed to get the cylinder lodged at least an inch into the door. One more good hit and you could have gotten into the vehicle. A smart thief would have smashed the window if they were stuck. Instead you just fucked up my door and ran off like a little bitch. The irony of your handiwork is that because of the remote access on my key chain I never use the actual key to get in my vehicle.
It would have been better for both of us if you just finished the job and stole my car. You would have a 2005 Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo, which with the exception of the door or window would be in reasonably good condition. Fencing for parts it would net you decent profit. With the combination of my finance company writing the adjusted load amount off and my insurance company covering a portion of the theft I would not have been out very much money. This may strike you as odd but the truth is that I really don't like my car. It represents everything I hate about the auto industry, oil companies, and the excesses of Americans to begin with. For the past few months I have been attempting to sell it. This weekend I was going to troll the dealerships to trade it in for a more economic car, probably similar to one you drive. I was not looking forward to this. I would rather deal with the police, the insurance company, and my finance company then have to talk with a fucking car salesman. Stockton disappoints me on so many levels and morons like you are only a reminder of this.
Reply to: pers-670705879@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-05-06, 4:40PM PDT
You epitomize everything that is wrong with Stockton. I don't mean the high crime rate, the mortgage crisis, or the 30 degree fluctuation in temperature. Those are a given. No, it is the fact that you, Mr. Moronic Car Thief, failed to steal my car. Another uncompleted task from the populous of this fantastic city I live in.
You did a good job of knocking the locking cylinder into the door. For some reason you did not smash it in far enough to break the locking mechanism. There are plenty of reasons to speculate, but I think it's because you are stupid. If you examined your handiwork then you would have seen you had managed to get the cylinder lodged at least an inch into the door. One more good hit and you could have gotten into the vehicle. A smart thief would have smashed the window if they were stuck. Instead you just fucked up my door and ran off like a little bitch. The irony of your handiwork is that because of the remote access on my key chain I never use the actual key to get in my vehicle.
It would have been better for both of us if you just finished the job and stole my car. You would have a 2005 Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo, which with the exception of the door or window would be in reasonably good condition. Fencing for parts it would net you decent profit. With the combination of my finance company writing the adjusted load amount off and my insurance company covering a portion of the theft I would not have been out very much money. This may strike you as odd but the truth is that I really don't like my car. It represents everything I hate about the auto industry, oil companies, and the excesses of Americans to begin with. For the past few months I have been attempting to sell it. This weekend I was going to troll the dealerships to trade it in for a more economic car, probably similar to one you drive. I was not looking forward to this. I would rather deal with the police, the insurance company, and my finance company then have to talk with a fucking car salesman. Stockton disappoints me on so many levels and morons like you are only a reminder of this.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Maker Faire Visit and Photos
When the process of learning programming languages and advanced mathematics begins to drag my sense of direction into a tailspin it helps to look at those already in the fields. From websites, open source projects, and applications being developed provide an amazing sense of inspiration and relief. Most of the time these are limited to what is posted on the web.
The Maker Faire this past weekend was an opportunity to see first hand what engineers, developers, artists, performers, start-ups, and the DIY community has been working on for the past year. For anyone who has picked up a soldering iron, welding gun, duct tape, or a glue gun it was also an opportunity to revel, play, and show off the projects that have been sitting in spare rooms, studios, garages, and backyards everywhere. Maker Faire was also a chance for uninitiated to try there hand at the same.
Simply put it was a fantastic inspiration to be able to see and chat with folks who are doing their best to improve society, make life easier, or at the very least make it more fun. The pictures I was able to take do not really convey even a fraction of what I saw.
R.JPG)
Check out the full photo stream here.
The Maker Faire this past weekend was an opportunity to see first hand what engineers, developers, artists, performers, start-ups, and the DIY community has been working on for the past year. For anyone who has picked up a soldering iron, welding gun, duct tape, or a glue gun it was also an opportunity to revel, play, and show off the projects that have been sitting in spare rooms, studios, garages, and backyards everywhere. Maker Faire was also a chance for uninitiated to try there hand at the same.
Simply put it was a fantastic inspiration to be able to see and chat with folks who are doing their best to improve society, make life easier, or at the very least make it more fun. The pictures I was able to take do not really convey even a fraction of what I saw.R.JPG)
Check out the full photo stream here.
Friday, May 2, 2008
The Power of "I Don't Know"
Before leaving my previous profession as a telemarketing manager and returning to my prior occupation as a student I was deluged by questions.
"Why were the contacts so low?"
"What are the hours again?"
"When are our checks coming in?"
"Are these seats still available?"
"Who composed this?"
"I need to pen."
"How much does this pay?"
"Do you have enough people this week?"
"Did this person call for me?"
"What else has this performer been in?"
"What happened to sales yesterday?"
"Could we do something about how hot it is in here?"
"Can I talk to you for second [about something that really isn't that important]?"
"I am going to get fired this week?"
"Which series is that performance on?"
"Can we turn the heat on?"
"Someone called me."
And on and on and on and on and on and on and on. Almost everyday for 8-10 hours a day for six years.
By the way, this is not a statement to cause anyone to feel sympathy for me. It was the beginning of a revelation.
Sitting in the backyard, sensing my body cool off after an hour of running, I gazed up past the trees and into the clear blue sky. It was a moment of respite before launching back into more book work. Even though I knew there was much to work on once I went back inside I felt totally at peace.
Then my mind reflected back to a year ago when this moment of escape were limited to grabbing a slice of pizza on 37th Street and 7th Ave between the day and evening shift. This was usually after a constant barrage of questions for employees ("When is this person coming in again?"), the client ("Are we going to hit goal this week?"), the account executive ("How is hiring going?"), patrons ("How did you get me number?"), prospective employees ("Do you guys sell like tickets are something?"), and even the mailman ("What happened to the office across the hall?"). Once I had downed the slice I had enough time to walk around the streets of the Fashion District at rush hour before returning to work. The only environment that I can think of that would be less conducive for clearing your mind then Mid-town Manhattan at 5:00 would be a war zone. Once leaving this break I would start the evening shift off with whatever spin campaign we were supposed to be peddling to the employees that supposedly trusted me and then off to the phones. At that point it was pretty much the same thing as the day - a barrage of questions and requests.
As I reflected on this I came to the realization of how much of my job was doing everything possible to avoid the response "I don't know." The higher up the questions came the less you wanted or could afford to give that answer. Even at the bottom of the rungs you still wanted to answer all of their questions as accurately as possible. It was my job from bottom to top to make sure everyone knew everything they needed to know as quickly as possible. I became a master at picking up campaigns cold and being able to have a thorough knowledge of all aspects of it within a couple of weeks.
Fast forward to the present where I find myself in a completely opposite situation. The vast majority of the time the phrase "I don't know" is a golden opportunity. The fantastic thing about this is the instructor gets to teach and I get to learn. Quite the opposite of the situation that would have arisen if I said those three little works at work too often. There is an undeniable sense of relief in saying that I don't know what the hell I am doing. This sense of puzzlement is also reflected in most of my classmates. At work this would have scared the hell out of me, but here it is a relief. This is essentially what I go through everyday at school. It is also relatively true even after I have supposedly learned the information that was presented to me. As I got up and went back inside I reflected on how wonderful it was to be able to state in unequivalcable terms that I do not know what the hell I am doing.
During winter break, after an eight hour journey from Stockton to New York, the friend I was staying with commented on how refreshed I looked. It probably has much to do with not having to answer more questions on a daily basis than the White House Press Secretary.
"Why were the contacts so low?"
"What are the hours again?"
"When are our checks coming in?"
"Are these seats still available?"
"Who composed this?"
"I need to pen."
"How much does this pay?"
"Do you have enough people this week?"
"Did this person call for me?"
"What else has this performer been in?"
"What happened to sales yesterday?"
"Could we do something about how hot it is in here?"
"Can I talk to you for second [about something that really isn't that important]?"
"I am going to get fired this week?"
"Which series is that performance on?"
"Can we turn the heat on?"
"Someone called me."
And on and on and on and on and on and on and on. Almost everyday for 8-10 hours a day for six years.
By the way, this is not a statement to cause anyone to feel sympathy for me. It was the beginning of a revelation.
Sitting in the backyard, sensing my body cool off after an hour of running, I gazed up past the trees and into the clear blue sky. It was a moment of respite before launching back into more book work. Even though I knew there was much to work on once I went back inside I felt totally at peace.
Then my mind reflected back to a year ago when this moment of escape were limited to grabbing a slice of pizza on 37th Street and 7th Ave between the day and evening shift. This was usually after a constant barrage of questions for employees ("When is this person coming in again?"), the client ("Are we going to hit goal this week?"), the account executive ("How is hiring going?"), patrons ("How did you get me number?"), prospective employees ("Do you guys sell like tickets are something?"), and even the mailman ("What happened to the office across the hall?"). Once I had downed the slice I had enough time to walk around the streets of the Fashion District at rush hour before returning to work. The only environment that I can think of that would be less conducive for clearing your mind then Mid-town Manhattan at 5:00 would be a war zone. Once leaving this break I would start the evening shift off with whatever spin campaign we were supposed to be peddling to the employees that supposedly trusted me and then off to the phones. At that point it was pretty much the same thing as the day - a barrage of questions and requests.
As I reflected on this I came to the realization of how much of my job was doing everything possible to avoid the response "I don't know." The higher up the questions came the less you wanted or could afford to give that answer. Even at the bottom of the rungs you still wanted to answer all of their questions as accurately as possible. It was my job from bottom to top to make sure everyone knew everything they needed to know as quickly as possible. I became a master at picking up campaigns cold and being able to have a thorough knowledge of all aspects of it within a couple of weeks.
Fast forward to the present where I find myself in a completely opposite situation. The vast majority of the time the phrase "I don't know" is a golden opportunity. The fantastic thing about this is the instructor gets to teach and I get to learn. Quite the opposite of the situation that would have arisen if I said those three little works at work too often. There is an undeniable sense of relief in saying that I don't know what the hell I am doing. This sense of puzzlement is also reflected in most of my classmates. At work this would have scared the hell out of me, but here it is a relief. This is essentially what I go through everyday at school. It is also relatively true even after I have supposedly learned the information that was presented to me. As I got up and went back inside I reflected on how wonderful it was to be able to state in unequivalcable terms that I do not know what the hell I am doing.
During winter break, after an eight hour journey from Stockton to New York, the friend I was staying with commented on how refreshed I looked. It probably has much to do with not having to answer more questions on a daily basis than the White House Press Secretary.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Love-Meet.com from GTA IV
More from the Grand Theft Auto IV website which should tide me over until I get a chance to play it. Love-Meet.com, an obvious parody of every on-line dating service out there, has a rather entertaining Personality Quiz.
Here is what come up the first time I went through it:
Tweaking my answers just a little bit the second time around gave me this:
Answering the same set of questions in round one as a woman gave this result:
Choosing the weirdest selections on every questions delivered this:
Since I was on a role:
Good times! Take the quiz and see where you end up.
Here is what come up the first time I went through it:
Tweaking my answers just a little bit the second time around gave me this:
Answering the same set of questions in round one as a woman gave this result:
Choosing the weirdest selections on every questions delivered this:
Since I was on a role:
Good times! Take the quiz and see where you end up.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Internet Study Guides: Google Images
The last time I was in school the Internet was just beginning to form. This was before the Dot Com Boom. Before Hotmail became part of Microsoft. When Excite was more important than Yahoo and Google was just a funny name. During that time, which seems so long ago even though it's not, studying for an exam mainly involved notes and a textbook. If it was a lab practical, say for biology, it involved drawing detailed diagrams of what you were seeing. The students who did the best on those exams were ones who brought in colored pencils, filling in every conceivable detail they could sketch on their lab manual. My skills as an artist caused everything to look like an abstract painting version of the same thing.
Most of my labs would have some version of the follow conversation with my lab partner:
"What is that," my lab partner would ask pointing at the painstaking drawing before me.
"Columnar cells."
She (My lab partners were always women.) would pick up the sheet of paper rotating it in front of her face.
"Are you sure? Cause this doesn't look anything like the slide."
Invariably I never did very well on the lab practicals.
Fast forward - how many years? - to what in the eyes of technology is an eon. There are so many new tools available it is staggering sometimes. In the case of lab practicals Google Images or Yahoo and Flickr are an amazing resource.
The best part of this is that the artistically deficient do not have to rely souly on their rushed renderings. For example the study list for my current biology practical included a fetal pig dissection. Found that. Even though the sheep heart wasn't on the exam I found a better primer for the basic structures than the actual lab. You can also buy one for $3.80. Then their was the earthworm. Not the best photos but there it is. I was having trouble finding the male version of the ginkgophyta plant. But here it is. What do juniper berries look like again? Oh yeah.
It is all at your fingertips. God bless the Internet for making it easier for slackers to keep pace with the overachievers.
Most of my labs would have some version of the follow conversation with my lab partner:
"What is that," my lab partner would ask pointing at the painstaking drawing before me.
"Columnar cells."
She (My lab partners were always women.) would pick up the sheet of paper rotating it in front of her face.
"Are you sure? Cause this doesn't look anything like the slide."
Invariably I never did very well on the lab practicals.
Fast forward - how many years? - to what in the eyes of technology is an eon. There are so many new tools available it is staggering sometimes. In the case of lab practicals Google Images or Yahoo and Flickr are an amazing resource.
The best part of this is that the artistically deficient do not have to rely souly on their rushed renderings. For example the study list for my current biology practical included a fetal pig dissection. Found that. Even though the sheep heart wasn't on the exam I found a better primer for the basic structures than the actual lab. You can also buy one for $3.80. Then their was the earthworm. Not the best photos but there it is. I was having trouble finding the male version of the ginkgophyta plant. But here it is. What do juniper berries look like again? Oh yeah.
It is all at your fingertips. God bless the Internet for making it easier for slackers to keep pace with the overachievers.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
GTA IV Borough Slogans
After over a year of steady promotion Grand Theft Auto IV has been released for thousands of game hounds to devour by the weekend. It's enough of an incentive to prompt me to buy a 360 or PS3 just to play the game. In the meantime the website offers plenty to give visitors the look, feel, and flavor of the game.
One of the first things that caught my attention was the interactive map of Liberty City, which is Basically the five boroughs of New York under different names. As your cursor glides over the different areas a short description pops up. If you have lived in New York City within last few years then you should find these borough slogans rather appropriate.
Algonquin = Manhattan
Self-proclaimed center of everything.
Expensive, snooty and over.
Better in the movies.
Tall buildings, angry people.
Yawn.
Broken = Brooklyn
Desperate try-hards.
Suddenly fashionable. No on sure why.
Gentrifying, but still rough.
Still bridge and tunnel.
Churches, hipsters and housing projects.
Dukes = Queens
Multicultural ghettoes.
I think my maid lives there.
Best thing is the airport.
Bohan = Broxn
Like the suburbs, only worse.
Where is that again?
Be afraid.
Ripe for re-development.
Practically upstate.
Alberney = New Jersey
Soccer moms and SUVS
Industrial wasteland meets suburban hell.
Bring your passport.
Strip malls and condos
One of the first things that caught my attention was the interactive map of Liberty City, which is Basically the five boroughs of New York under different names. As your cursor glides over the different areas a short description pops up. If you have lived in New York City within last few years then you should find these borough slogans rather appropriate.
Algonquin = Manhattan
Self-proclaimed center of everything.
Expensive, snooty and over.
Better in the movies.
Tall buildings, angry people.
Yawn.
Broken = Brooklyn
Desperate try-hards.
Suddenly fashionable. No on sure why.
Gentrifying, but still rough.
Still bridge and tunnel.
Churches, hipsters and housing projects.
Dukes = Queens
Multicultural ghettoes.
I think my maid lives there.
Best thing is the airport.
Bohan = Broxn
Like the suburbs, only worse.
Where is that again?
Be afraid.
Ripe for re-development.
Practically upstate.
Alberney = New Jersey
Soccer moms and SUVS
Industrial wasteland meets suburban hell.
Bring your passport.
Strip malls and condos
Monday, April 28, 2008
Wierd Edge Shaving Gel Commercial
While at the gym last night studying my notes on the elliptical machine a strange sight caught my attention.
A group of orange clad models spraying a CGI set of a mans unshaven face with foam. Smiling and laughing this collection of gel activating hotties where have the time of their lives. The next shot is the man shaving. It seems an odd juxtaposition since the only assumption you can make is that this man is mowing down these hot women with his razor. Once moment they were frolicking around, spraying each other with aloe and moisturizer, then next they have been sliced up by a series of razor blades. What a horrible way to go.
If that wasn't odd enough the next series of shots should be considered evidence that the ad agency who crafted this were ingesting plenty of hallucinogens. With his shaving carnage complete the man lifted the remaining glob of gel to his nose.
Rising from the shaving cream like a cadre of hot Phoenixes was another group of models wearing green jet packs. The next shot was a profile of the man's huge nose. Seriously, his nose took up the entire screen. Below his gargantuan honker were a couple dozen green dots that rose into his nasal cavity. Once inside the models transformed the cavernous nasal passage was into a rave. They even brought their own dj and dancers.
If you see this commercial and happen to be in an altered state of mind of your own choosing please remember that you are not seeing things.
A group of orange clad models spraying a CGI set of a mans unshaven face with foam. Smiling and laughing this collection of gel activating hotties where have the time of their lives. The next shot is the man shaving. It seems an odd juxtaposition since the only assumption you can make is that this man is mowing down these hot women with his razor. Once moment they were frolicking around, spraying each other with aloe and moisturizer, then next they have been sliced up by a series of razor blades. What a horrible way to go.If that wasn't odd enough the next series of shots should be considered evidence that the ad agency who crafted this were ingesting plenty of hallucinogens. With his shaving carnage complete the man lifted the remaining glob of gel to his nose.
Rising from the shaving cream like a cadre of hot Phoenixes was another group of models wearing green jet packs. The next shot was a profile of the man's huge nose. Seriously, his nose took up the entire screen. Below his gargantuan honker were a couple dozen green dots that rose into his nasal cavity. Once inside the models transformed the cavernous nasal passage was into a rave. They even brought their own dj and dancers.If you see this commercial and happen to be in an altered state of mind of your own choosing please remember that you are not seeing things.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Playing Art With Daddy's Money
This story is equal fascinating and repelling. Such a lead in can only lead to a jump to Fox News.
Yale Pulls Student's "Abortion Art" Project From Exhibit Opening
A Google search for Aliza Shvarts brought up a web page that does an excellent job of assimilating and dissecting her previous biographical background, previous work, and relationship to her advisor.
Aliza Shvarts: Abortion Goo Girl Rants Against the "Patriarchal Heteronormative"
The blogger, Gerard Van Der Leun, also provides a more eloquent examination of Shvarts and what calling something morally questionable, if not downright dangerous, as art.
Yale Pulls Student's "Abortion Art" Project From Exhibit Opening
A Google search for Aliza Shvarts brought up a web page that does an excellent job of assimilating and dissecting her previous biographical background, previous work, and relationship to her advisor.
Aliza Shvarts: Abortion Goo Girl Rants Against the "Patriarchal Heteronormative"
The blogger, Gerard Van Der Leun, also provides a more eloquent examination of Shvarts and what calling something morally questionable, if not downright dangerous, as art.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Frost Armwrestling Fulgrum
I do not believe I will ever be satisfied. Not with work. Not with my relationships. Not with life in general. Where this attitude will lead me remains to be seen. Thus far my score card is a dozen failed relationships, and almost twice as many partners, yet none of them has been able to keep my attention for very long. My employment history began almost fifteen years ago yet there is nothing in it which I would want to consider career defining. This thought is all the more startling when I look back and realize how much my current job has so clearly dictated my life. Then there are moments such as this one, where I am supposed to be diligently working on the tasks in which I receive a salary for and yet here I am writing. Like any type of purging - puking, shitting, sleeping, or fucking - this task above all else must be done before anything else to cleanse the consciousness and allow my soul to find the solace to keep working. So here I am typing out a stream of consciousness rant to sooth my confused psyche.
What bothers me the most is the underlying thought that in the end this all futile and perhaps my life would be better served escaping all of this. Flying on the plane today I was surrounded by folks living the lifestyle of lemmings. Get up, go to work, come home, spend time with the family, and then repeat for the rest of your life. When I think of them I feel incrediblu sorry for them. My God if I look back ten years from now and I am living that same lifestyle - dictated, predictable, ordinary - then fucking kill me right now. And then it hits me: that is the thought that will save you. As long as the fire burns within and I constantly seeking the road less traveled then my life will be far from ordinary, completely unpredictable, and will only be dictacted to me periodically.
But here is the rub. On some level I crave the lemming lifestyle. The security of a home and warmth of family will end up being the last uncharted territory for me. After I have base-jumped Mount Rushmore and swam with whale sharks the most challenging task will be that of father and husband. Thus the inner battle continues on.
What bothers me the most is the underlying thought that in the end this all futile and perhaps my life would be better served escaping all of this. Flying on the plane today I was surrounded by folks living the lifestyle of lemmings. Get up, go to work, come home, spend time with the family, and then repeat for the rest of your life. When I think of them I feel incrediblu sorry for them. My God if I look back ten years from now and I am living that same lifestyle - dictated, predictable, ordinary - then fucking kill me right now. And then it hits me: that is the thought that will save you. As long as the fire burns within and I constantly seeking the road less traveled then my life will be far from ordinary, completely unpredictable, and will only be dictacted to me periodically.
But here is the rub. On some level I crave the lemming lifestyle. The security of a home and warmth of family will end up being the last uncharted territory for me. After I have base-jumped Mount Rushmore and swam with whale sharks the most challenging task will be that of father and husband. Thus the inner battle continues on.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Random Thoughts On Gov. Paterson's Press Confernce
1. Not again.
2. It's only been a week since Elliot Spitzer admitted having sex with an escort and here we are again - another news conference with a politician admitting he was having an affair.
3. At least he is doing it the right way. No pun intended, but the premptive approach is refreshing.
4. It worked so well you can sense the press giving a collective shrug as if to say 'You called a press conference for this.'
5. They seem more interested in finding out if he either used state or campaign funds or if someone got a promotion out of it. Both cases was a no.
6. Favorite quote: "Governor what else are we going to find out about your life that we don't want to know." His wife's smile at that statement was priceless.
7. She's kind of hot too.
8. A Governor that is legally blind and a player on top of it. He's got my vote.
9. Another difference between how Paterson handed this verses Spitzer - he actually allowed his wife to speak instead of simply standing there.
10. He's not used to dealing with the press yet.
11. He's especially not used to dealing with New York City press.
12. Quoted from a Daily News reporter: "Do you and your wife plan on remaining sexually faithfully to each other in the future."
13. He is not mentioning the fact that the Daily News approached him the day of his swearing in with what they had found out.
14. Governor Paterson's closing statement: "I want to thank all of you for giving me and Michelle the opportunity to address this situation."
15. Translation: "I want to thank that asshole from the Daily News for forcing me into this really uncomfortable and probably unnecessary situation."
For the full story and video of press conference visit the Daily News.
2. It's only been a week since Elliot Spitzer admitted having sex with an escort and here we are again - another news conference with a politician admitting he was having an affair.
3. At least he is doing it the right way. No pun intended, but the premptive approach is refreshing.
4. It worked so well you can sense the press giving a collective shrug as if to say 'You called a press conference for this.'
5. They seem more interested in finding out if he either used state or campaign funds or if someone got a promotion out of it. Both cases was a no.
6. Favorite quote: "Governor what else are we going to find out about your life that we don't want to know." His wife's smile at that statement was priceless.
7. She's kind of hot too.
8. A Governor that is legally blind and a player on top of it. He's got my vote.
9. Another difference between how Paterson handed this verses Spitzer - he actually allowed his wife to speak instead of simply standing there.
10. He's not used to dealing with the press yet.
11. He's especially not used to dealing with New York City press.
12. Quoted from a Daily News reporter: "Do you and your wife plan on remaining sexually faithfully to each other in the future."
13. He is not mentioning the fact that the Daily News approached him the day of his swearing in with what they had found out.
14. Governor Paterson's closing statement: "I want to thank all of you for giving me and Michelle the opportunity to address this situation."
15. Translation: "I want to thank that asshole from the Daily News for forcing me into this really uncomfortable and probably unnecessary situation."
For the full story and video of press conference visit the Daily News.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Because It Is That Good
Obama and Clinton have both been tiptoing over issue of race and sex the entire campaign. It has been the Pink Elephant sitting in the corner. What is interesting the consider is the domino effect that lead to this moment.
First there was the Geraldine Ferraro taking the low road after one quote was taken out of context. It is rather sad to watch someone who is considered a political pioneer digging themselves further and further into hole simply because they want to be right.
Then Fox News got a hold of footage of Reverend Wright. Since it is Fox News, specifically Shawn Hannity and Bill O'Reily, they choose the most inflametory statements possible. The fact that Reverend Wright is the minister of Obama made it newsworthy.
Kind of funny . . . Bill O'Reily warning about offensive material in the face of the spin and lies he tosses out everyday.
And since it encapsulates both of the problems here is another clip from The Daily Show.
The final domino fell today on CNN. Ignore the snippets the press has been pulling out from it. Watch the full video to really get the scope of the speech. This speech was a long time coming.
You can't deny it. It is really, really good. You just can not deny it.
I voted for Clinton in the primary. As much as I want her to win there is no way I could imagine her making a similar speech. Perhaps we are all soft from eight years of bumbling Bush speeches. He said he was a unifier until the questions became too difficult and he decreed himself the Decider. After that it was impossible to get a straight answer from the man. When he was actually talking that it. It is not hard to imagine a similar posture taking over Clinton when the pressure starts to mount.
That is the point where I changed my mind. What is interesting to consider is this: when the pressure mounts Barack Obama has the resolve to handle those situations effectively because of our politely racist society. Hilary Clinton does have the experience and the extra heavy weight of being a woman in this political boys club. John McCain may have endured being a POW and is currently battling the anger of many conservative critics to his campaign.
Regardless both of these candidates have not had to deal with a lifetime of racism. Combine this with two generations passing on stories of abuses far worse than trouble getting a cab or someone walking to the other side of the street to avoid you and you have someone who can handle almost anything. Sounds kind of strange coming from a cracker like me, but it's true. I know it's true and so do you.
First there was the Geraldine Ferraro taking the low road after one quote was taken out of context. It is rather sad to watch someone who is considered a political pioneer digging themselves further and further into hole simply because they want to be right.
Then Fox News got a hold of footage of Reverend Wright. Since it is Fox News, specifically Shawn Hannity and Bill O'Reily, they choose the most inflametory statements possible. The fact that Reverend Wright is the minister of Obama made it newsworthy.
Kind of funny . . . Bill O'Reily warning about offensive material in the face of the spin and lies he tosses out everyday.
And since it encapsulates both of the problems here is another clip from The Daily Show.
The final domino fell today on CNN. Ignore the snippets the press has been pulling out from it. Watch the full video to really get the scope of the speech. This speech was a long time coming.
You can't deny it. It is really, really good. You just can not deny it.
I voted for Clinton in the primary. As much as I want her to win there is no way I could imagine her making a similar speech. Perhaps we are all soft from eight years of bumbling Bush speeches. He said he was a unifier until the questions became too difficult and he decreed himself the Decider. After that it was impossible to get a straight answer from the man. When he was actually talking that it. It is not hard to imagine a similar posture taking over Clinton when the pressure starts to mount.
That is the point where I changed my mind. What is interesting to consider is this: when the pressure mounts Barack Obama has the resolve to handle those situations effectively because of our politely racist society. Hilary Clinton does have the experience and the extra heavy weight of being a woman in this political boys club. John McCain may have endured being a POW and is currently battling the anger of many conservative critics to his campaign.
Regardless both of these candidates have not had to deal with a lifetime of racism. Combine this with two generations passing on stories of abuses far worse than trouble getting a cab or someone walking to the other side of the street to avoid you and you have someone who can handle almost anything. Sounds kind of strange coming from a cracker like me, but it's true. I know it's true and so do you.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Burning Man 2008 Art Projects
When the Burning Man organization announced the theme for this year I was less than enthused. The prospect of becoming excited about a festival and community I loved to belong to due to their creative spirit is challenging when the best theme the leaders of this mass gatherer can come up with is "The American Dream." It was discouraging.
Since then my standard response when someone would ask if I was going was "If I can afford it." In the back of my mind I knew that I would end up going, but it almost felt like an obligation. Then an email announcing the arts grants arrived. The funded projects are:
The Cave, by Chassy Cleland and Henya Emmer, New York, NY
Ask me if I'm going now?
Since then my standard response when someone would ask if I was going was "If I can afford it." In the back of my mind I knew that I would end up going, but it almost felt like an obligation. Then an email announcing the arts grants arrived. The funded projects are:
Altered State, by Kate Raudenbush, New York, NY
http://www.kateraudenbush.com (Click on New: Altered State)
Amazing Jellyfish from Y12K, by Jared Gallardo, Salt Lake City, UT http://www.jellyfish12000.com/jf12k_2008.pdf
Basura Sagrada, by Shrine, Tuktuk, and the Basura Sagrada Collaboratory - Pasadena, CA and Portland,
Bummer, by Myk Henry, New York, NY/Geneva, Switzerland
"Bummer" is a super size Humvee measuring 38 feet long x 18 feet wide x 16 feet high. Half of the Hummer will be painted in military khaki and the other half a bright sporty color. This sculpture epitomizes this country's obsession with power and the Jekyll and Hyde nature of the American dream.
Celtic Forest, by Laura Kimpton, Bob Hoffman and Jeff Schomberg, Nicasio, CA
Chasing the American Dream, by Hedy Siroco, Wynnewood PA
Drum Wagons, by Quill Hyde, Brooklyn NY
Elevation, by Michael Christian, Berkeley, CA
Elevation is a fully climbable sculpture constructed of winding tube steel ladders that elevate to a seated perch for one, on its peak. The height of the piece will be 56 feet.
Fleeble Flobbler, by Charlie Smith and Jaime Laudet, Atlanta, GA
Free Flight, by David Boyer, Reno NV
"Free Flight" is a sculpture that celebrates the ultimate freedom, the escape from the bounds of earth. Consisting of six wind-driven kinetic birds, this sculpture is in constant flux as the winds of the Black Rock grow, recede, shift and change.
Hand of Man, by Christian Ristow, Taos, New Mexico
http://www.christianristow.com/handofmanproposal.html
http://www.christianristow.com
Harmonic Geometry, by Glenn Easley and Rikk Carey, Vashon, WA
Hydrogen Economy, by False Profit Labs, San Francisco, CA
Illusion, by Benson Trent, Provo, UT
Ketchup, by Bruce Bender, Marshall, NC
Legends of America, by James Cole, Auburn, CA
Lepidodgera, by Rachel Norman, Mike Thielvoldt, Lira Filippini, and Jake Haskell, Palo Alto, CA
Man Gwyn Man Draw?, by Defaid Daf a Joe, Wales
McEnlightenment, by Michael Brown and Violet McKeon, San Diego, CA
Mutopia, by the Flaming Lotus Girls, San Francisco, CA
Net Work, by David Bengali, New York, NY
Nowhere Ominibus, by Pete Johnson, London, UK
Pictures of You – Images from Iran, by Yechdosay Chahar, Crested Butte, CO http://www.picturesofyouiran.org/burningman
Pool, by Jen Lewin, Boulder, CO
Popaver Rubrum Giganticum, by Gary Miller, Wyndmoor, PA
Popaver rubrum giganteum (giant red poppy) consists of three hundred 10' tall poppies in various shades of red. The design allows for variation in the layout and placement of the individual elements.
Pswarm, by the Dept. of Spontaneous Combustion, Oakland, CA
Pyrocardium, by False Profit Labs, San Francisco, CA
Shiva Vista, by Dave King, Reno, NV
Shrine of Fortuna, by Art Farm, Graton, CA
Shrine to the Oven Mitt, by Steven Goodman, Mountain View, CA
Spaghetti West Ten, by the Mutoid Waste Co., London, UK
A 12' long, by 15' tall motorized apocalyptic horse, part beast, part rust-ravaged machine, pulls a punked-out parody of a pioneer's covered wagon, which contains a stage for musical acts and performance.
Swarm, by Michael Prados, San Francisco, CA
Tantalus, by Peter Hudson, San Francisco, CA
Tantalus is Peter's fourth large scale zoetrope. Participants must engage a laboriously intense mechanism that puts a modern spin on the myth of Tantalus while reflecting on the seemingly dwindling fruits of such labor.
The Cave, by Chassy Cleland and Henya Emmer, New York, NY
Wheel of Thwarted Ambition, by Anton Viditz-Ward, Telluride, CO
This kinetic fire sculpture represents change, rebirth and creation. Driven by a hand crank, a wheel containing buckets of burning wood is spun around, creating a ring of fire and producing lots of fireflies.
You are All so Many of Me, by Michael Emery, Santa Cruz, CA
A multitude of small cut mirrors provides the opportunity for both literal and metaphorical reflection. During the day, the viewer perceives a cubist self-portrait smiling back. At certain points during the night this reflection will be enhanced with a variety of images projected by LCD upon the mirrors. The viewer is invited to interact with images of fire and water as well as a racial/gender spectrum of other humans. The viewer is invited to contemplate, and perhaps to help create the American Dream of FREEDOM FOR ALL.
ZsuZsu, by Mister Jellyfish, Sparks, NV
Ask me if I'm going now?
Friday, March 7, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
I Am Not Patrick Bateman.
Every once in a while I will thumb through the "Best of" on Craigslist. One particular post struck a cord with me.
Best of Craigslist: The girls I have dated
Now before anyone gets the wrong idea I haven't done most of the actions the original posted wrote about. For example he appears to have never had a healthy relationship with anyone. Period.
But I know how he feels in regards to how some girls, and eventually women, have fit into my life. Some are a temporary distraction from other thoughts swirling in your mind. Some are just for fun, never amounting to anything other then sex. Some of them teach you things you never would have realized about yourself and the world around you. And others end up ripping your heart to shreads.
Fortunately, and this is where my own experience takes a dramatic turn from the original posters, some of them turn into friends. After all the shit, stress, sobbing, sex, and strife you get to watch and help each other change for the better. So if I wrote one these postings myself it would probably sound like some strange, fucked-up Hallmark card:
You were absolutely stellar lover. I am sure most of prowess and abandon had to do with the issues surrounding your father. After each sweat-drenched session I secretly thanked him. Watching you get your life back together has been wonderfully exciting. I hope it doesn't dull the edge you had in the bedroom. That would be a shame.
If not for those brave souls, and the ones who are no longer around, I would probably have wriyten something eerily similar to the girls I have dated.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Uncle Ben's Deep Fried Advice - Dating (Part 2)
Dear Uncle Ben,
You were right. Musicians only care about their gigs. Even when they are the ones that mention "call me if you're in town and we can hang out." and when you do they don't answer, so you leave a voicemail. In the voicemail you even mention that you have a birthday present for them(NON SEXUAL--I know what you're thinking). Then they text message you, without the balls to reject you in person saying they are "heading to my dad's place.
"AAAARGGGHHHHHH!!!!
BLLLAAAHHHHH!!!
WHHYYYY??
You were right. Musicians only care about their gigs. Even when they are the ones that mention "call me if you're in town and we can hang out." and when you do they don't answer, so you leave a voicemail. In the voicemail you even mention that you have a birthday present for them(NON SEXUAL--I know what you're thinking). Then they text message you, without the balls to reject you in person saying they are "heading to my dad's place.
"AAAARGGGHHHHHH!!!!
BLLLAAAHHHHH!!!
WHHYYYY??
Why even suggest a possible meeting if you really didn't want one?
Sincerely,
Agravated
Agravated
Dear Agravated,
What can I say other than I told you so. Instead of dancing around pointing my finger and laughing at you I will repost the advice Nadia left as a comment the last time we talked about the "sweet, cute, musician." As a frame of reference Nadia has lived and worked within the Austin music scene for the last 10 years. In that time she has dated and slept with her fair share of singers, guitarist, bassists, and drummers. The lady know your pain all to well.
"DON'T DATE MUSICIANS. Seriously! You can bone a musician all day long, but [a] possible relationship is more work than what it's worth. Have your fun on the side with the least amount of expectation and you'll have a great time."
If you want to peg an section of Creatives to date try writers. We have our own quirks and fidelity issues; the latter of which revolve around our craving for living life to the fullest. Fortunately when we do lie, and we do, it is believable and credible. If it's not then at least it's entertaining.
Take that "sweet, cute, musician" down from the shelf and let's relable him "stupid, flakey, musician." Now lock his ass in a cabinet you don't go into very often. After you've locked the door and turn away for it and repeat his new name one more time. Alright Agravated say it with me:
"Stupid"
"Flakey"
"Musician"
Monday, March 3, 2008
Digging Through 50 hours of music
In a way this a follow up to the post regarding how technology has changed the way we listen to music. The music files for my music subscription service (Regrettably, it's Yahoo.) were overtaking my main hard drive. In in effort to rectify this I situation have been sorting through the downloaded files. At first there was over 60 hours of music and roughly 100o files.
Some eliminations were pretty easy. How the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir ended up on my hard drive is beyond me. Ditto for Yes U's Devastations and the most boring ambient trance ever courtesy of one Steve Roach. Other deletions were a surprise. Listening to Gun's and Roses absolutely horrible Live Era 87-93 all that cam to mind was what a pretentious, grandstanding ass Axl Rose was. From all reports he still is, but this gem of a set was a stark reminder. If you have this album and want a perfect example of the train wreck that Rose was steering listen to Dust and Bones. It is a excellent reflection of what Guns and Roses was slowly becoming: bombastic, out of sync, and overshadowed by the antics of an out of control front man.
The cool part of cleaning house is coming across those things you forgot a while back. Head Automatica's "Beating Heart Baby" and "Please Please Please" were the perfect antidote to the sluggish feeling that had descended upon my evening. Even though he looks like he should be at the local biker bar, Tommy Sunshine crafts amazing dance tracks from the Pitchfork approved artists. His double disc Ultra Rock Remixed has survived the deletion or file transfer thus far. The unfortunate aspect of Seattle's Blues Scholars is that very few people are aware of combination of political and social commentary they bring to strong beats. These guys are what is missing from hip-hop today. Then there is the old reliable of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Bands and their stellar Magic. Among the favorites already present in my mind these shone out to surprise me one more time. And I am only on the J's now.
Some eliminations were pretty easy. How the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir ended up on my hard drive is beyond me. Ditto for Yes U's Devastations and the most boring ambient trance ever courtesy of one Steve Roach. Other deletions were a surprise. Listening to Gun's and Roses absolutely horrible Live Era 87-93 all that cam to mind was what a pretentious, grandstanding ass Axl Rose was. From all reports he still is, but this gem of a set was a stark reminder. If you have this album and want a perfect example of the train wreck that Rose was steering listen to Dust and Bones. It is a excellent reflection of what Guns and Roses was slowly becoming: bombastic, out of sync, and overshadowed by the antics of an out of control front man.
The cool part of cleaning house is coming across those things you forgot a while back. Head Automatica's "Beating Heart Baby" and "Please Please Please" were the perfect antidote to the sluggish feeling that had descended upon my evening. Even though he looks like he should be at the local biker bar, Tommy Sunshine crafts amazing dance tracks from the Pitchfork approved artists. His double disc Ultra Rock Remixed has survived the deletion or file transfer thus far. The unfortunate aspect of Seattle's Blues Scholars is that very few people are aware of combination of political and social commentary they bring to strong beats. These guys are what is missing from hip-hop today. Then there is the old reliable of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Bands and their stellar Magic. Among the favorites already present in my mind these shone out to surprise me one more time. And I am only on the J's now.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Dante's Inferno Test
I really appreciate quizzes that are more cerebral than the something like "Which Brittney Are You." Turns out I am destine for the Second Level of Hell. Unless of course I change my ways.
The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test
The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | Extreme |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | Low |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | Moderate |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | Low |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | High |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Moderate |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | Very High |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | Moderate |
Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)