Created by my old place of work, Blur Studio.
"
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
On the distribution of Wealth.
-Posted by my friend at my job.
When I was a kid, my father worked at a college that was on an old estate on the north shore of Long Island. That is Gatsby territory, and the area was filled with former fancy estates most of which had been converted to other uses. I remember reading then about how people used to have incredible fortunes and built amazing huge houses with hundreds of rooms and hundreds of servants, and how even the richest of the rich could no longer afford that sort of thing.
If you look at the history, the closest the US came to actual revolution was in the 1920's and early 1930's, which was that Gatsby period. Many people think that Roosevelt saved capitalism in the US by spreading the wealth and bringing in social programs like social security, WPA, etc.
IMHO, the Republicans consciously were seeking to bring back that era, where being rich meant being REALLY rich. And they succeeded. And, strangely enough, also succeeded in bringing back the event that ended that previous era, the Great Depression.
This is probably why businessmen on the whole supported Obama, for the same reason they supported Roosevelt: sense and fear winning out over greed.
You probably will recognize this song:
They used to tell me I was building a dream, and so I followed the mob,
When there was earth to plow, or guns to bear, I was always there right on the job.
They used to tell me I was building a dream, with peace and glory ahead,
Why should I be standing in line, just waiting for bread?
Once I built a railroad, I made it run, made it race against time.
Once I built a railroad; now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower, up to the sun, brick, and rivet, and lime;
Once I built a tower, now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,
And I was the kid with the drum!
Say, don't you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.
Why don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,
And I was the kid with the drum!
Say, don't you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.
Say, don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?
When I was a kid, my father worked at a college that was on an old estate on the north shore of Long Island. That is Gatsby territory, and the area was filled with former fancy estates most of which had been converted to other uses. I remember reading then about how people used to have incredible fortunes and built amazing huge houses with hundreds of rooms and hundreds of servants, and how even the richest of the rich could no longer afford that sort of thing.
If you look at the history, the closest the US came to actual revolution was in the 1920's and early 1930's, which was that Gatsby period. Many people think that Roosevelt saved capitalism in the US by spreading the wealth and bringing in social programs like social security, WPA, etc.
IMHO, the Republicans consciously were seeking to bring back that era, where being rich meant being REALLY rich. And they succeeded. And, strangely enough, also succeeded in bringing back the event that ended that previous era, the Great Depression.
This is probably why businessmen on the whole supported Obama, for the same reason they supported Roosevelt: sense and fear winning out over greed.
You probably will recognize this song:
They used to tell me I was building a dream, and so I followed the mob,
When there was earth to plow, or guns to bear, I was always there right on the job.
They used to tell me I was building a dream, with peace and glory ahead,
Why should I be standing in line, just waiting for bread?
Once I built a railroad, I made it run, made it race against time.
Once I built a railroad; now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower, up to the sun, brick, and rivet, and lime;
Once I built a tower, now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,
And I was the kid with the drum!
Say, don't you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.
Why don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,
And I was the kid with the drum!
Say, don't you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.
Say, don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?
A friend's Reel
This is a friend's VFX Director Reel. The cool part about it is he did everything on it. From modeling, to Surfacing, Animation, Lighting, FX, and Compositing. He's a real talented mf'er. I wish I was more like him.
Gabriel Portnof's VFX Director Reel from gabriel portnof on Vimeo.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Nothing Compares to This.
Nothing Compares 2 U (cover) live
I was watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall last night, a movie that I wasn't into at first but has grown on me considerably. At one point the main character is at home lamenting his lost love to the tune "Nothing Compares to You", a song that was originally by Prince, but was covered by Sinead O'Connor. I remember blasting her cover, much like the character in the movie, after being broke up with by my first love. I locked myself in my room and wallowed for hours in pure adolescent misery. I opened my ground floor window in Greenwich village so the whole block would now that nothing compared to her. At the end of the film there is a great Hawaiian cover of the song which I fell immediately in love with, both because of it's comedic awkwardness, and also for the fact that the song is great.
Then oddly enough, this morning on KCRW, as I drove east on Venice Blvd, Jason Bentley puts this new cover of the song on. I thought to call my girlfriend so we could have a laugh about the coincidence, but was beaten to the punch by her call to say the same thing. We were both listening to the same song on the same station. It was a good moment.
I was watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall last night, a movie that I wasn't into at first but has grown on me considerably. At one point the main character is at home lamenting his lost love to the tune "Nothing Compares to You", a song that was originally by Prince, but was covered by Sinead O'Connor. I remember blasting her cover, much like the character in the movie, after being broke up with by my first love. I locked myself in my room and wallowed for hours in pure adolescent misery. I opened my ground floor window in Greenwich village so the whole block would now that nothing compared to her. At the end of the film there is a great Hawaiian cover of the song which I fell immediately in love with, both because of it's comedic awkwardness, and also for the fact that the song is great.
Then oddly enough, this morning on KCRW, as I drove east on Venice Blvd, Jason Bentley puts this new cover of the song on. I thought to call my girlfriend so we could have a laugh about the coincidence, but was beaten to the punch by her call to say the same thing. We were both listening to the same song on the same station. It was a good moment.
Friday, May 1, 2009
I threw 3D graphics at Obama.
this is a picture of the president watching the Monsters Versus Aliens Superbowl trailer which had my explosion shots, and I also did the Logo that flies at the viewer at the end. So, i visually threw graphics at the president's face! I am McLovin that somebody found that image on the Huffington Post.
I wonder...If he flinched, does that mean i get to give him a punch in the shoulder like that childhood game we all used to play?
OH SHIT! they're back
When childhood cartoons go AWESOME!
Transformer "Revenge of the Fallen" trailer #3 from Bay Films/Michael Bay Dot Com on Vimeo.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Network Television kills me.
I am very much a fan of movies and I can spend a whole day sitting and watching them. But frankly, I have seen a lot and the movie channels only play a limited selection per month and just do repeats. Another source is network tv since there are a bunch that will play movies during the day. But between the commercial breaks (especially hard when watching long epics like LOTR that needed editing to begin with), and the editing of scenes to be PG, I am usually left with a bad taste in my mouth. I understand that the movie companies let them tear apart their films simply because they get royalties...but it's really inexcusable. This is the kind of shit that pisses me off:
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
REQUIREMENTS...by Tracy Morgan.
Sorry I've been gone for so long. I've been marinating since January. Just got back to work. Stories to follow...
Friday, February 27, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
I LOVE NOT WORKING
Is it bad if during two months of time off, all i want to do is leisure type stuff? Is there some project I should be working on? The work ethic can be nagging sometimes, but i do a good job of womping its ass.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Dick Cheney, seriously, go FUCK YOURSELF.
In the Immortal words of Gandalf the Grey....YOU SHALL NOT PASS!
Friday, February 6, 2009
Venice breakwater and getting towed in LA
So, yesterday I went surfing in the rain. It's not something I ever really pictured myself doing, since I always associated the beach with sunny days. But for the last week it had been perfect sunny weather and unfortunately, flat wave-less conditions. I had gone several times though since I have months off from work and plenty of time to kill. Also, the fact that I had just bought a cool long board from Bask, my homeslice and neighbor, had also made in imperative that I go in a lot. But the lack of ride-able waves created a hunger for bigger waves that I have never felt. I tend to be overwhelmed quickly by big surf because i have bad ears. My eardrums get hurt easily by the pressure of waves taller then myself and swimming under them doesn't help much.Yesterday a storm rolled in and the waves and wind picked up dramatically in the afternoon. I rode my bike to the beach and was surprised to see that the spot was crowded, even in the grey stormy chop. I guess other surfers were wave starved as well. Not to mention that the recession has probably opened up more then a few schedules to weekday riding. Nothing really remarkable happened, there wasn't the appearance of dolphins or whales as there has been lately, and really, the rides weren't spectacular. i guess it was more or less the fact that we were all there, crowded into a 200 foot stretch of beach behind a stone jetty, weathering a storm in rough seas that made the moment memorable. The spirit of riding and the love of huge masses of water dumping over as they hit the end of their domain in a last ditch effort to show off their power.
It was also the feeling of the rain pelting my head and the waves coming in almost on top of each other. You never knew where the next one was coming from, how big it would be or if there was one right behind it. Essentially bobbing up and down constantly and never being still or catching your breath. On top of that, any wave I caught had two or three guys catching it at the same time so it was like bumper cars unless I let the wave pass (which i am learning to do via my homeboys, since its usually them I end up bumping into).
The rides were surprisingly fun though, since these waves were often large, but would have smaller waves right in front of them, so you might catch the upper part of the wave, and end up dropping down into another wave below it, and then catching two or three more breaks on the same ride since they were so broken up and random. It reminded me of the way Japanese painters represented waves in ancient times, like it had no order and was so crazy the waves had waves kind of like a perm hairdo.
Another thing that I loved about the experience was the way people looked at me, on the beach, and in the neighborhood. There are a lot of tourists in Venice and they tend to stare in admiration at surfers, but add a storm and rain and you get the look of absolute respect. You can see it in the face, they think you are crazy, but they also admire the courage and skill it must take to head down to the beach on a bike in a wetsuit and a board under my arm. On top of that, I was riding back on abbot kinney boulevard and ran into a friend of mine who lives in San Francisco. So at the moment where i was telling him how the fin on my board broke, i realized that at the same time last year i was huddling inside my NY apartment avoiding the cold and staring longingly at my barren snow covered backyard remembering what it was like in the summer for BBQs. We make our own lives, and I chose this one. I can't say that I have any regrets right now. Of course I miss home, but I will be there in March and I know it's not going anywhere and that the winter SUCKS. But i do miss taking a day to walk across the park and go to a museum.
I tried giving LA a chance as a city with culture by visiting LACMA for the first time. That was actually a successful day, the museum's collection and layout was very impressive....but I had to drive really far in traffic and I ended up getting towed, then being saved by my girlfriend who works nearby. Had she not been around i could have spent a ton of money on cabs and probably wouldn't have been able to get my car out of the pound that evening anyways since i made it with like 10 seconds to spare before they closed for the night...gotta love that. A city that has no workable transportation system towing cars from meter spots and then shutting down the pound at 7pm.
Yeah, you heard correctly, I parked at a meter spot, you know, where you pay to park and assume that since the machine took your money that you would be okay. I even looked at the sign and saw that it was 4 hour parking and it was 2pm, no mention on that sign about a Tow zone...that was on another sign on another pole about 50 feet down from the sign i checked. I put in enough money to last until 6pm and marched off joyfully to enjoy some art. Low and behold, LA is a magical city that has meter parking that suddenly becomes a tow away zone at 4pm. Something like that in NY is unheard of, and the signage would be crazy if it were because New Yorkers fight about that kind of shit all day long. But LA doesn't think it's necessary to put that info in like HUGE RED LETTERS. Instead, they let tourists fall into the 400 dollar trap (and it must be mostly tourists considering the fact that it was in front of the museums and la brea tar pits) I imagine they make a LOT of money from that and leave a bad taste in most peoples mouths, people who were just trying to see some culture in a vast barren desert of cultural waste.
I truly understand why so many people hate LA, I used to with a passion. Now I spend a lot of time defending it in conversations with people I know who don't live here. It's a city that doesn't behave well. From the police, to the drivers, to even the awkward and disdainful way Angelenos walk in crowds. It seems more like a town for people who don't actually want to live around other people. Thankfully, I don't care about that aspect anymore. I'm here for the work, the weather, and the waves. That's it brah.
Leisure Blogging
Does anybody besides me see the irony in the fact that Kellogs dropped Phelps as a sponser because he was photographed taking a bong hit? Doesn't Kellogs owe marijuana at least a nod?!
If stoners decided to pay Kellogs back with a boycott, they'd go out of business STAT.
Ehhh, whateves. the Last Dragon is on cable right now.
If stoners decided to pay Kellogs back with a boycott, they'd go out of business STAT.
Ehhh, whateves. the Last Dragon is on cable right now.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Add some rack focus and push the blur et voila...mini world.
Helpless from Keith Loutit on Vimeo.
Music: “HELPLESS” (S. Harland-Wright*/D. Jackson)
© J. Albert & Son Pty Limited*/Control
Performed by Headstrong featuring Shelley Harland
Used with permission
http://www.headstrong-hq.com/
http://www.myspace.com/shelleyharland
Thanks to Greenpeace Australia, Shelley Harland, Darrin Brindle, Abram Powell.
For more information on the building of the sand whale featured in this short film visit: http://www.greenpeace.org.au
Artist info @ www.keithloutit.com
Beached from Keith Loutit on Vimeo.
Beached from Keith Loutit on Vimeo.
Music: “HELPLESS” (S. Harland-Wright*/D. Jackson)
© J. Albert & Son Pty Limited*/Control
Performed by Headstrong featuring Shelley Harland
Used with permission
http://www.headstrong-hq.com/
http://www.myspace.com/shelleyharland
Thanks to Greenpeace Australia, Shelley Harland, Darrin Brindle, Abram Powell.
For more information on the building of the sand whale featured in this short film visit: http://www.greenpeace.org.au
Artist info @ www.keithloutit.com
Beached from Keith Loutit on Vimeo.
Beached from Keith Loutit on Vimeo.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Riding the M104 up to Harlem because I couldn't control my John Thomas
I was thinking the other day about growing up and being a young unripe tomato in the streets of NY. One memory jumped into my mind suddenly and made me laugh out loud. It was something I hadn't considered in a long time, mainly because I no longer have to concern myself with the catalyst of this particular misadventure in my old age. The catalyst being the uninvited boner.
Any guy can tell you that part of growing up as a lad is dealing with an over anxious, under nourished one-eyed willy. A nasty creature who regularly decides that he wants to make his presence known to all who dare to be in the same vicinity as his mightiness. He cares not about the propriety of his arrival, not what the situation is, or who he will be introducing his boniness to. He just wants to dance.
So, among the many many sources of stress that a young boy has to cope with, like school, girls, friends, homework, the future, bio-nuclear warfare (it was a real source of stress in the 80's), puberty. it was yet another bomb that could go off at any second. a time bomb located right there between the legs. methinks mine was a particularly sensitive bomb that loved to blow at the most awkward moments, like right at the end of class, right as i was being subbed into a basketball game, or right as i had to get up for my bus stop.
This moment in time was the latter. I remember it very vividly. It was summer, I had a huge sony walkman with a broken rewind button and big fat dj headphones (headphones i was forced to defend more then once). I remember that I was listening to Janet Jackson on KISS Fm (of dj red alert fame). I believe the song was "Let's wait a while". It was 1986, back when buses were huge rounded exhaust spewing beasties. I was late and had to run to catch the bus before it drove to the next stop. I had to run while holding my sweatpants because they were very baggy and if i ran they would fall down around my ankles...yet another thing to worry about.
I managed to make the bus at 86th street and broadway. I walked to the back to see if there was anybody I knew on the same bus. Of course there was, but she was my teacher. That was awkward and disappointing (and only added to my impending boy humiliation). So I said "hi" and sat down in an aisle seat and turned the volume up to zone out and dig on the tunes.
The ride was uneventful and I don't think a single sexy thought crossed my mind the whole time. Until I perked up at 110th street noticing that my stop was next. It was as if my stupid penis got wind of my need to stand up and decided that it needed to stand up too. The fact that i had soft sexy feeling sweatpants didn't help my case either. So suddenly i popped a tent. And again, I can safely say that the tent popping had NOTHING to do with my thoughts at the time. I was most likely focusing on the street number and my projected path to the exit doors. But mr pee pee didn't care. He just woke up and went "Boing"..."Reporting for duty, sir!"
There I was, sitting near my teacher and turning red as a beet. I had to think fast and decide how I was going to play the situation. Did I just throw caution to the wind and try to stand up and possibly cover my bulging sweatpants with my bag or my huge walkman? Did I maybe try to hunch over while tucking the tip under my waistband and hope nobody noticed the obvious change in posture? Or did I just not get up and wait it out?
At the last possible second I went with my last option. I stayed in my seat and and decided to hope it subsided before I was in the bronx. I remember my teacher tapping my shoulder and pointing at the street sign. I mumbled something like "I wanna get something from the store on 113th street" and hoping she didn't mention that I would be late. Maybe she knew secretly what I might be going through because she nodded and got off the bus without a fuss. The bus closed the doors and started rolling uptown. 114th street came and went, 116th, 118th, 120th. the stops were coming so fast and nothing was changing. My little boy pecker wouldn't give me a break. It was armed for battle and refusing to stand down no matter how many baseball games i pictured in my mind.
I ended up getting off the bus in Harlem and then being so afraid that it might happen again that I just ran back to 112th street. I was late that day...And i probably popped another one in math class...fucking sweatpants.
Any guy can tell you that part of growing up as a lad is dealing with an over anxious, under nourished one-eyed willy. A nasty creature who regularly decides that he wants to make his presence known to all who dare to be in the same vicinity as his mightiness. He cares not about the propriety of his arrival, not what the situation is, or who he will be introducing his boniness to. He just wants to dance.
So, among the many many sources of stress that a young boy has to cope with, like school, girls, friends, homework, the future, bio-nuclear warfare (it was a real source of stress in the 80's), puberty. it was yet another bomb that could go off at any second. a time bomb located right there between the legs. methinks mine was a particularly sensitive bomb that loved to blow at the most awkward moments, like right at the end of class, right as i was being subbed into a basketball game, or right as i had to get up for my bus stop.
This moment in time was the latter. I remember it very vividly. It was summer, I had a huge sony walkman with a broken rewind button and big fat dj headphones (headphones i was forced to defend more then once). I remember that I was listening to Janet Jackson on KISS Fm (of dj red alert fame). I believe the song was "Let's wait a while". It was 1986, back when buses were huge rounded exhaust spewing beasties. I was late and had to run to catch the bus before it drove to the next stop. I had to run while holding my sweatpants because they were very baggy and if i ran they would fall down around my ankles...yet another thing to worry about.
I managed to make the bus at 86th street and broadway. I walked to the back to see if there was anybody I knew on the same bus. Of course there was, but she was my teacher. That was awkward and disappointing (and only added to my impending boy humiliation). So I said "hi" and sat down in an aisle seat and turned the volume up to zone out and dig on the tunes.
The ride was uneventful and I don't think a single sexy thought crossed my mind the whole time. Until I perked up at 110th street noticing that my stop was next. It was as if my stupid penis got wind of my need to stand up and decided that it needed to stand up too. The fact that i had soft sexy feeling sweatpants didn't help my case either. So suddenly i popped a tent. And again, I can safely say that the tent popping had NOTHING to do with my thoughts at the time. I was most likely focusing on the street number and my projected path to the exit doors. But mr pee pee didn't care. He just woke up and went "Boing"..."Reporting for duty, sir!"
There I was, sitting near my teacher and turning red as a beet. I had to think fast and decide how I was going to play the situation. Did I just throw caution to the wind and try to stand up and possibly cover my bulging sweatpants with my bag or my huge walkman? Did I maybe try to hunch over while tucking the tip under my waistband and hope nobody noticed the obvious change in posture? Or did I just not get up and wait it out?
At the last possible second I went with my last option. I stayed in my seat and and decided to hope it subsided before I was in the bronx. I remember my teacher tapping my shoulder and pointing at the street sign. I mumbled something like "I wanna get something from the store on 113th street" and hoping she didn't mention that I would be late. Maybe she knew secretly what I might be going through because she nodded and got off the bus without a fuss. The bus closed the doors and started rolling uptown. 114th street came and went, 116th, 118th, 120th. the stops were coming so fast and nothing was changing. My little boy pecker wouldn't give me a break. It was armed for battle and refusing to stand down no matter how many baseball games i pictured in my mind.
I ended up getting off the bus in Harlem and then being so afraid that it might happen again that I just ran back to 112th street. I was late that day...And i probably popped another one in math class...fucking sweatpants.
The Coolest set of pictures from Russia...
This collection is the freshest thing I have seen in a while. Check it.
This photo set is by Aleksey Petrosian, Russian photographer.
This photo set is by Aleksey Petrosian, Russian photographer.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Sometimes I secretly wish I had become a musician
I played several instruments and sang all the time...but it just never stuck. I just wanted to DANCE.
Obama on the mind
4 more days!!!!! Anybody get the feeling that the sky is clearing? I do.
Daft Punk vs. Adam Freeland - "Aer OBAMA"
The wicked witch is dead...
ding dong.
Daft Punk vs. Adam Freeland - "Aer OBAMA"
The wicked witch is dead...
ding dong.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Notorious spraying some dude with lyrical goodness.
Notice the dude on the right biting his nails, and then exiting stage left. That's what it must have felt like to battle Biggie Smalls.
Star Wars...kind of.
Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.
"My friend Amanda had never seen a whole Star Wars film. When I asked her if she wanted to watch the original trilogy she said that she would, but that she already knew what happens. So I took out my voice recorder and asked her to start from the top.
I then created some very basic animation in Final Cut to go along with her narration."
- Joe Nicolosi
www.fishrockit.com
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Goldfrapp
Lets take a second to check out Goldfrapp videos i likey. Inspired by the previous post.
Happiness:
Scariness:
Strict Machine:
Black Cherry:
Train:
Animated "Fly Me Away"
Felt Mountain:
Deer Stop:
Eat Yourself:
Clowns:
Utopia:
Caravan Girl...skater chic:
Happiness:
Scariness:
Strict Machine:
Black Cherry:
Train:
Animated "Fly Me Away"
Felt Mountain:
Deer Stop:
Eat Yourself:
Clowns:
Utopia:
Caravan Girl...skater chic:
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Holding my breath while driving
This morning I nearly blacked out trying to hold my breath while driving 80 mph. My excuse for such an absurd situation is simple, but requires a bit in the way of an explanation. I had been trying to appease an ancient pagan god.
I like to think of myself as being a rational human being. But frankly, most of the time I am not. I once had a huge argument with an ex-girlfriend. Actually, It was the only argument I ever had with her. The theme was "magic" and whether or not it existed. It started because I felt like the universe had a plan and that us being together wasn't random. She disagreed, and it shocked me that she didn't think we were part of some bigger destiny together. I ended up stomping off in frustration...frankly, a little bit hurt.
I think I have always believed in higher purposes and prophecy...stemming mostly from vanity and the idea that I actually matter in this huge cold universe...that it actually knows and gives a rat's ass who i am. It's kind of pathetic really, but I like to think that it's also kind of romantic that something like cosmic recognition would separate me from a lump of coal.
I have vivid memories of sitting in the vast back seat of my dad's huge Cadillac, driving down old route 100 in Vermont. Passing centuries old cemeteries with imperfect rows of civil war era tombstones. These peaceful old stones were always surrounded by tall wild grass and butterflies in the summer, or grey and frozen under snow hats in the winter. Each time we would pass one, my sister and I would quickly catch our breaths and hold it intently. When we were young and highly susceptible to any kind of story telling, somebody had, in a rather off-hand way, mentioned that it's good luck to hold one's breath when passing a cemetery. Little did they know that I would end up holding my breath COUNTLESS times in my life because of that brief and relatively meaningless conversation. And to add to that bit of silliness, or possibly to add to that bit of actual wizardry (depending on the cosmic unprovable truth), they mentioned that when you were passed the last tombstone you had to chant "Rabbit, Rabbit, thank you for the day god". That would put you in good with whatever or whomever the Day God was and that some rabbit was also going to look out for you. Why a rabbit? I have NO idea. It also makes me wonder how many gods there might be, and what I might need to do or say to not piss them off as well. You see how big the universe can get when the invisible becomes unsure?
Those were the days of Dungeons and Dragons, of sticks, picked up in the forest, becoming magic long swords, and old bushes becoming trolls and ogres...the days of pagan gods, myths and lore. When i looked in the mirror and actually thought i might be looking at another person, who looked like me, but was actually existing in a magic alternate universe. the days when a black cat crossing my path was a message from the fairy's, and witches that they knew my path, that they could cut my path and reach out and grab my soul. The days, when we drove in a Cadillac constructed of thick steel and American automotive pride in the 60's. the days of overalls and magic strawberries.
What's left of these days? I no longer shudder at the huge amounts of magic that I can't see, I no longer think I might have married the ocean that day i lost the silver ring my first girlfriend made me in camp while I was surfing in the Atlantic. I don't believe that I can move objects simply by willing them to move...if I will hard enough. I am pretty sure that I was wrong about that by now. Otherwise I'd be stopping and suddenly focusing on doing shit with my mind CONSTANTLY, and people on the sidewalk would walk around me uncomfortably, wondering why I wasn't taking my medication anymore.
What's left of all that, is this...I still hold my breath when I am passing cemeteries. Only the one that I pass everyday on the 405, as i head up and over the mountains north of LA, is a huge military one. And sometimes there's traffic. So there I am, a rational adult. Holding my breath until i see stars and my face is blue, just to avoid some bad luck. Maybe it's because I am aware of how insanely lucky I am in life that prevents me from taking a breath during this arduously long dead people passing. But goddamit, I am popping brain cells and risking an accident with this left-over habit. Maybe I need to change my commute route. I don't think you can see any cemeteries from the 10 or the 5, right?
This video posted by my sister made me think of this for some reason. The setting reminded me of Vermont...the center of all things magic. There are actually 3 versions to chew on.
I guess I should also mention that i make wishes when i blow out my birthday candles, when i blow away an eyelash that has been plucked from my cheek, and when i look at my watch and it's any of the following times: 12:34:56, and any 3 set combo of numbers, like 11:11:11 and 01:01:01. etc etc...but there's no chant aimed at any deities and making wishes is normal, right?
I like to think of myself as being a rational human being. But frankly, most of the time I am not. I once had a huge argument with an ex-girlfriend. Actually, It was the only argument I ever had with her. The theme was "magic" and whether or not it existed. It started because I felt like the universe had a plan and that us being together wasn't random. She disagreed, and it shocked me that she didn't think we were part of some bigger destiny together. I ended up stomping off in frustration...frankly, a little bit hurt.
I think I have always believed in higher purposes and prophecy...stemming mostly from vanity and the idea that I actually matter in this huge cold universe...that it actually knows and gives a rat's ass who i am. It's kind of pathetic really, but I like to think that it's also kind of romantic that something like cosmic recognition would separate me from a lump of coal.
I have vivid memories of sitting in the vast back seat of my dad's huge Cadillac, driving down old route 100 in Vermont. Passing centuries old cemeteries with imperfect rows of civil war era tombstones. These peaceful old stones were always surrounded by tall wild grass and butterflies in the summer, or grey and frozen under snow hats in the winter. Each time we would pass one, my sister and I would quickly catch our breaths and hold it intently. When we were young and highly susceptible to any kind of story telling, somebody had, in a rather off-hand way, mentioned that it's good luck to hold one's breath when passing a cemetery. Little did they know that I would end up holding my breath COUNTLESS times in my life because of that brief and relatively meaningless conversation. And to add to that bit of silliness, or possibly to add to that bit of actual wizardry (depending on the cosmic unprovable truth), they mentioned that when you were passed the last tombstone you had to chant "Rabbit, Rabbit, thank you for the day god". That would put you in good with whatever or whomever the Day God was and that some rabbit was also going to look out for you. Why a rabbit? I have NO idea. It also makes me wonder how many gods there might be, and what I might need to do or say to not piss them off as well. You see how big the universe can get when the invisible becomes unsure?
Those were the days of Dungeons and Dragons, of sticks, picked up in the forest, becoming magic long swords, and old bushes becoming trolls and ogres...the days of pagan gods, myths and lore. When i looked in the mirror and actually thought i might be looking at another person, who looked like me, but was actually existing in a magic alternate universe. the days when a black cat crossing my path was a message from the fairy's, and witches that they knew my path, that they could cut my path and reach out and grab my soul. The days, when we drove in a Cadillac constructed of thick steel and American automotive pride in the 60's. the days of overalls and magic strawberries.
What's left of these days? I no longer shudder at the huge amounts of magic that I can't see, I no longer think I might have married the ocean that day i lost the silver ring my first girlfriend made me in camp while I was surfing in the Atlantic. I don't believe that I can move objects simply by willing them to move...if I will hard enough. I am pretty sure that I was wrong about that by now. Otherwise I'd be stopping and suddenly focusing on doing shit with my mind CONSTANTLY, and people on the sidewalk would walk around me uncomfortably, wondering why I wasn't taking my medication anymore.
What's left of all that, is this...I still hold my breath when I am passing cemeteries. Only the one that I pass everyday on the 405, as i head up and over the mountains north of LA, is a huge military one. And sometimes there's traffic. So there I am, a rational adult. Holding my breath until i see stars and my face is blue, just to avoid some bad luck. Maybe it's because I am aware of how insanely lucky I am in life that prevents me from taking a breath during this arduously long dead people passing. But goddamit, I am popping brain cells and risking an accident with this left-over habit. Maybe I need to change my commute route. I don't think you can see any cemeteries from the 10 or the 5, right?
This video posted by my sister made me think of this for some reason. The setting reminded me of Vermont...the center of all things magic. There are actually 3 versions to chew on.
I guess I should also mention that i make wishes when i blow out my birthday candles, when i blow away an eyelash that has been plucked from my cheek, and when i look at my watch and it's any of the following times: 12:34:56, and any 3 set combo of numbers, like 11:11:11 and 01:01:01. etc etc...but there's no chant aimed at any deities and making wishes is normal, right?
Vandelay Industries
Seinfeld had it's hay day...much like the Cosby Show...defined a period in NYC's recent past.
"And you want to be my latex salesman!"
"And you want to be my latex salesman!"
Friday, January 9, 2009
I have been trying to figure this one out for years...
I had assumed it was done using tracking points, like field markers and camera pan...but they actually get the stats from the camera itself and coordinate that with the camera's fixed position. the color keying was a no-brainer. Nerd stuff.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Young Love...
Anna-Bell, Anna-Lena and Mika at the police post at the main railway station in Hanover, central Germany, after being caught heading for the airport so Anna-Bell and Mika could 'get married in Africa'. Photograph: /AFP/Getty ImagesThese kids are amazing...
From the UK Guardian:
It is a dream that has been shared by lovers across the centuries – the chance to elope to exotic lands. But few would have been as bold and spontaneous as six-year-old Mika and his five-year-old sweetheart Anna-Bell who, after mulling over their options in secret, packed their suitcases on New Year's Eve and set off from the German city of Hanover to tie the knot under the heat of the African sun.
The children left their homes at dawn while their unwitting parents were apparently sleeping, and took along Mika's seven-year-old sister, Anna-Lena, as a witness to the wedding.
Donning sunglasses, swimming armbands and dragging a pink blow-up lilo and suitcases on wheels packed with summer clothes, cuddly toys and a few provisions, they walked a kilometre up the road, boarded a tram to Hanover train station and got as far as the express train that would take them to the airport before a suspicious station guard alerted police.
"What struck us was that the little ones were completely on their own and that they had lots of swimming gear with them," said Holger Jureczko, a police spokesman. He described Mika and Anna-Bell as "sweethearts" who had "decided to get married in Africa where it is warm, taking with them as a witness Mika's sister".
Anna-Bell told the German television station RTL: "We wanted to get married and so we just thought: 'Let's go there.' "
Mika said: "We wanted to take the train to the airport, then we wanted to get on a plane and when we arrived we wanted to unpack the summer things and then we wanted to go for a bit of a stroll in the sun."
Mika and Anna-Lena's mother, who was not identified, said she had known nothing of her children's plan. "I'm still in a state of shock. I thought 'I'm playing a part in a bad movie.' When we realised the kids were missing we went looking for them." But only when the police called did they realise what had happened.
Asked why they failed to let their parents know, the children said they thought they would not be gone for long.
Mika told police he instigated the plan having been inspired by a winter holiday with his family in Italy. "Based on this the children began to make plans for the future," Jureczko said.
To allay their disappointment at being caught, Hanover police gave them a tour of the police headquarters. Jureczko said: "They'll have the chance to put their plan into action at a later date".
Adidas House Party
Besides the out-of-place British soccor player, this vid captures the old house party feeling.
Monday, January 5, 2009
BLACK DYNOMITE!!!!
"Uhhh, Hush up little girls...A lotta cats have that name."
WOOT?!
"hmmm? you gonna wake up the rest of the bitches!"
Friday, January 2, 2009
Ice Age 3
So, i did like HALF of this trailer. I knew they loved me over there. They just didn't know how to show it :)
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