I have found a place. It is a secret place ubeknownst(YES I did just use that word!) to many people I know. I would really love to tell you about it and where to find it. But I won’t. Those who already know about it will know what I am talking about.
What is so amazing about this place is that I don’t ever want to leave. I don’t ever stop talking to the people there. And I don’t ever stop contributing to it. It gives me so much inspiration, and it is an awesome circle.
Someone inspires me->I make something->I contribute it->someone else gets inspired-> they create something->They contribute it->They inspire me->.
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My How-To project is coming along quite well. Just a recap on what it is: For my corporate media class I have to make a How-To video. I am doing one on How-To-Order-Pizza. It stars my two awesome friends and is a fast paced action adventure.
It’s about 50% complete. I can’t wait to unleash it on to your faces.
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I just added every Orson Welles film I could find on Netflix to my Queue. I never have seen any of his work, and I think in my field of interest it is essential that I do this immediately. I was also very happy to find out one day that Brain from “Pinky and the Brain”, a cartoon I watched as a child, was based exactly on Orson Welles. Except for the whole mouse thing obviously.
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I hate this domain name….I’m packing this site and moving it elsewhere as soon as I get the chance.
The Wrestler is an incredible film. This man lives for his place on the wrestling mats, and every other aspect of his life sucks. But he knows that if he can just hold on until the end of the week, he’ll be able to truly live. This is his life, his passion, he gets torn to bits all week, every week, to jump back in front of his people and live.
His life looks like shit to anyone else. But to him everyone else’s life looks like shit if they aren’t as happy as he is when he is standing on that post. The doctor says wrestling will kill him, wrestling doesn’t pay, wrestling abandoned his daughter, wrestling kept love away, wrestling keeps him alive.
Sometimes dying is the only way to live, I guess.
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Thought of the day:
“That is freaking hott.”
I am quite ashamed of this thought that I had today. I was walking to work and a stunning woman walked by, and that was the first thing that popped in my head. How could I just objectify a woman like that? I immediately corrected myself, and then I continued to think about that.
Don’t pick your nose while peeing. Your peeing apparatus will slip back in your pants mid-pee. You officially piss your pants. You smell like pee.
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I am slowly being reminded of how much shit I have bought over the past two years, and didn’t need.
I’m done with DVD’s, because I’ll just want to replace them all with Blu-Rays or HD-Downloads, whatever comes first. Netflix is awesome. In fact, I won’t be surprised if I stop buying movies for the rest of my life. If Netflix’s online streaming service hits incredible HD quality straight to my digital projector in my home theater (a dream), then I will have no need for the clutter of DVD’s.
I’m done with CD’s. I finally accepted the fact that they are worthless pieces of plastic shit. The music is not shit. The pieces of plastic that have been forced upon us are. I want the music for free, and then I want the artist to sell me a treasure to represent that music i.e. book, vinyl (it’s coming back), t-shirts, posters. I will buy those things if the music warrants it. Instantly all the best bands survive and Gym Class Heroes can disappear forever.
Books and magazines I will find hard to let go of, I probably won’t. I don’t buy many, so the ones I do buy are pretty important.
I discovered this band by watching Merlin Mann’s “Most Days” videos on Vimeo.com. They are an acoustic band, and I love the fact that I couldn’t put a label to the sound if I tried. Labels (i.e. Rockabilly, Emo-Punk Acoustic, Heavy Metal Bluegrass) need to die, and they are dying thanks to bands like this. They play acoustic instruments and make good songs and that’s all you need to hear from me.
I am back in school now and our next assignment is for Corporate Media. We have to film a How-To video. Over the past two days I have watched three films by Guy Ritchie (once I watched Snatch twice I had to watch the others): Snatch, RocknRolla, and Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. So my How-To video MUST be shot and edited in the style of a Guy Ritchie film.
My How-To is on how to order a pizza. So think Guy Ritchie movie, plus pizza, and you have my new project. Fuck yes.
About six months ago I heard about a documentary coming out about the electric guitar and rock music. Titled “It Might Get Loud”. What drew me to it was that Jack White (White Stripes, The Raconteurs) was going to be in it. I just read news over at The Movie Blog that it opened at Sundance this weekend and got picked up by Sony Pictures Classics.
I hopped over to the official website for “It Might Get Loud” and read a bit more about it. They locked up Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin), The Edge (U2), and Jack White in one soundstage and filmed the magic. The three guitarists collaborated and discussed their influences and experiences as well.
This is going to be my favorite documentary of all time!
I had two unusually vivid dreams last night. I know I have many dreams, but most of them I don’t recall until I think hard about what they were. But the two dreams I had last night stuck with me.
The first dream was just agonizing to watch. It relates to nothing going on in my life, nor does it take place in any familiar place I have been to. It was a hospital operating room, and a man stepped out of the elevator. He explained that a baby tarantula had gotten into his head. There was a clear hole on his forehead that was bleeding down his face.
The doctors got to work immediately and took a saw to his skull. They sawed off the whole top of his skull and left it on a side table. During the whole process the man on the table was screaming in pain. Then the weirdness started to occur. For no apparent reason the doctor was trying to place a larger skull over his head and had hit his brain. The man screamed even more. Than I blinked and the man’s skin had disappeared and all that was there was a skull. The doctor touched the jaw and the whole top of the skull jerked back and made a horrendous noise that sounded like when someones joints get dislocated. Then I blinked and the man’s face was back, and he was screaming.
Then it got really nuts. His brain simply fell out of his skull and blood dumped out of his head. The man screamed again, and the doctor shoved the brain, which looked like it was filled with liquid, back into his skull.
Then I woke up from complete amazement, and horror, at how vivid and real it all looked. This dream just makes no sense to me. I assume dreams come from your own brain, but I have never seen or heard of anything like this at all. My brain just got bored and wrote and produced a well done horror scene.
The other dream was a very vivid sex dream that lasted for far too short a time, and I will not discuss it. But it involved your mother.
So a couple months ago I realized that I tend to get very creative in the night hours. When things really calm down and the air gets quiet, I can think. I sit down at my desk and write on paper, or type on the computer, or quietly strum the guitar. I get work done while people are ending their day. It feels great.
Then a couple days ago I realized I tend to get very creative in the morning if I jump out of bed. I’ve got so much energy and if I make my creative ventures the first task of the day, they get done quickly and efficiently, and they are good.
So, basically, I have found out that creativity comes when you decide it does. There’s no waiting for when you “feel creative”. There is just waiting for yourself to say “let’s get to work.”
It’s about time I learn this, and start acting on it.
I went to see a movie tonight. The process I went through to decide between The Reader and Gran Torino went something like this: The Reader is about a woman, and Gran Torino is about a grumpy old man. I feel like a grumpy old man right now, Gran Torino it is.
I don’t know if Clint Eastwood set out to make a comedy, but he just made a heck of a dark (racist) comedy.
Walt Kowalski (Clint Eastwood) tells a joke:
A Jew, a Mexican, and a Gook walk in to a bar. The bartender says, “Get the fuck out!”
Walt then laughs his ass off.
If you are feeling grumpy, then, surprisingly, this movie about a grumpy guy will leave you happy and inspired. It does cover serious themes, most obvious: Life and Death. The life of Thao: Walt’s neighbor that becomes Walt’s apprentice of sorts, and the approaching death of Walt: A Korean War veteran approaching the end of his life.
The title, Gran Torino, comes from Walt’s prized Ford Gran Torino. As part of an initiation into a gang, Thao tries to steal it. He gets caught by Walt, and Thao’s family insists he repay a debt to Walt and work for him. Walt eventually takes him under his wing and helps him on the path to become a man. Thao had previously grown up without a role model or father figure.
This is a great film, and something that Clint Eastwood should be proud of in retirement.
I also recommend that nobody eat an abundance of Taco Bell prior to sitting for 90 minutes.
I went to see a movie tonight. The process I went through to decide between The Reader and Gran Torino went something like this: The Reader is about a woman, and Gran Torino is about a grumpy old man. I feel like a grumpy old man right now, Gran Torino it is.
