Thursday, December 31, 2009

Happy New Year, Y'alls.

Happy new year!
Happy 1000 blog views (or whatever)!
Happy 20 minutes of Return To Danger Mountain finished!
Happy every Creative Writing Club video that I'll ever write written!

To the upcoming decade: Chug chug chug chug chug chug chug chug chug chug like a chu-chu train.



"I'm not going to step on your head just to make you feel better!"
-Carol from Where The Wild Things Are

Saturday, December 19, 2009

The Incoherency Series

I was thinking about Avatar.

What we have here is a film which attempts to blend a world made with crazy crazy visual technology with storytelling. I haven't seen it yet, but this insane attempt has got me wondering.

Every time a film like this rolls around, the director totes that he has created "a world." Whether literal or not, almost all films frame a story in a "world." For James Cameron, he's taking it rather literally. Most other filmmakers create a world in the perspective of a distinct character which is a part of our world that we don't think about so often. So if every story exists in a realm of a distinctive "world," then it relies on the filmmaker to craft the world in a way that seamlessly intertwines the story with their vision. Wes Anderson does this rather beautifully. Even though The Royal Tenenbaums mostly took place in one house, the house became an integral part of the story. Everything was so rich and detailed that it was overwhelming. Not that Avatar won't be, but I can't help but feel that the world on the screen is nothing like the world James Cameron imagined. Avatar is, in all likelihood, the manifestation of hundreds of artists and designers who all read the script and came to a consensus with Cameron. This may not put the film at fault. The script might just be crafted so that it doesn't really matter how it looks, but just that it looks amazing.

Hopefully the script isn't that awful.

Then again, not everything has to be personal. Gus Van Sant filmed a movie about a school shooting without any apparent emotional attachment to the subject matter (he even kinda seemed like an asshole in interviews). Paul Thomas Anderson crafted a beautiful rise to fall story in the frame of the 70s porn industry. Whatever works.

But I'm finding that I take much more to images carefully thought out, and even help me comprehend the intent. Where The Wild Things Are certainly was close, but I feel that Fantastic Mr. Fox totally took the cake for this year, and I think I understand why.

Wes Anderson incorporates a style in every image and line he creates. There aren't really any ugly shots. The visual department of Fantastic Mr. Fox incorporated his style. What resulted was basically a Wes Anderson movie made by people who watch Wes Anderson movies. If Wes Anderson movies are a homage to Fran├žois Truffaut, then Fantastic Mr. Fox is a homage to Wes Anderson. This works a lot more than it sounds. Many of the shots in the film replicate shots from his other films- exactly.

With the exclusion of Up In The Air, Up, An Education, The Lovely Bones, Cold Souls, Jennifer's Body (shut up), Terminator Salvation, The Road, A Serious Man, Avatar (all of which I still want to see), here are my favorite films of this year.

1. Fantastic Mr. Fox
2. Star Trek
3. Where The Wild Things Are
4. District 9
5. Black Dynamite
6. Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Nigga
7. Moon
8. The Hurt Locker
9. The Hangover
10. 500 Days of Summer

Films I didn't really like:

Inglourious Basterds - It's true that I don't like Quentin Tarantino. He's got a style, but I feel his movies spend a lot of time to accomplish nothing and are liked chiefly by assholes because they think they're smart. That's just from my experience. As far as this one goes, I could write a paper on why I didn't like it. However, I feel that The New Yorker voices my feelings best. I enjoyed watching it. It's certainly not "bad." Hell, I thought I was going to like it after the opening scene. As it progressed to the basterds' (pointless) excursions, I saw that the film brings out the assholes in people in a grossly inappropriate setting.

Synecdoche, New York - I just really have a hard time saying that I liked it. Am I supposed to like it? I'm so confuuuuuuused! Well, I also watched it after surgery and half morphine'd up. I'll give it another watch, certainly.

Gran Torino - I watched this in a theater. The experience went like this: Clint Eastwood says something racist; the audience laughs like crazy; we're supposed to think he overcomes his racism; he makes another racist joke; the racist audience laughs. The dialogue is so wonk, even worse than Revenge of The Sith's wonk.

Watchmen - I read Watchmen the night before I saw it and loved it. I read the whole thing in one night, but it was the film that overwhelmed me. I thought it would be much more succinct, not to mention the style seemed a little off. Perhaps a little too clean. I'm not gonna be one who says it couldn't have been made into a movie, but it really could have been done better.

The Ugly Truth
- It's so good. It's so good.

Paul Blart: Mall Cop - Yeah, I saw it.

Wolverine
- Adamantium bullets.


Oh yeah, and I'm filming four videos on Wednesday, hopefully. One of them is part one of what I call "The Incoherency Series." That's why this blog is titled that.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Some things about music in 2009.

I lied. This isn't about movies in 2009. I'm pretty much done with school, but I still have a little more time to procrastinate something.

Albums I thought were great:

Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest
This record is just so warm to me.


Mew - No More Stories Are Told Today...


Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion
This one had to grow on me - big time. But once I got there, I understood what most of the fuss was about.


Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca


Phoenix - Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix


St. Vincent - Actor


Mos Def - The Ecstatic
Because I really enjoy white black music.


Peter, Bjorn and John - Living Thing
I love Writer's Block, and this is nothing like it. Shoot, "The Feeling" isn't on YouTube. Look it up. It's great.

M. Ward - Hold Time


Bon Iver - Blood Bank EP


Delorean - Ayrton Senna EP
So awesome.


Camera Obscura - My Maudlin Career


Dark Was The Night


Passion Pit - Manners
I think I enjoy very different parts of this than most people. For instance, I think "Sleepyhead" is a pretty bad song.


Tanya Morgan - Brooklynati
Again- black music for white people.



Albums I thought were OK
:

Neko Case - Middle Cyclone

The Antlers - Hospice

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - It's Blitz!
Hysteric is still one of the best songs of the year.


The Fiery Furnaces - I'm Going Away

The Raveonettes - In and Out Of Control
Fuzz fuzz fuzz fuzz.

Sufjan Stevens - The BQE

Wilco - Wilco the Album
The songs just seem pretty empty, but I can listen to it.

Andrew Bird - Noble Beast
Better than OK- but as a whole...




Albums I hate:

Discovery
Fuck Discovery. They're fucking garbage.

Sun O))) - Monoliths and Dimensions
I have listened to a great deal of metal, but I don't listen to metal. Even so, this disgusts me. I will take an eternity of Megadeath over a year of this.

Jarvis Cocker - Further Complications
Eh.

Conor Oberst - Outer South
I liked him more when he didn't want to live. I also got a speeding ticket listening to this album.

The Flaming Lips - Embryonic
Never been a fan. :(

Neon Indian - Psychic Chasms

The Mars Volta - Octahedron

Tegan and Sara - Sainthood

Fuck Buttons - Tarot Sport

DM Stith - Heavy Ghost
Creeps me the fuck out. He looks like Peter Petigrew.

Sunset Rubdown - Dragonslayer




...and I really like this.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

This happened.

Wa Pa Pwa. During Mock Congress, with multiple teachers watching, I got an affidavit passed to move my bill to the top of the agenda right before we finished our last day. Here is my speech to ban heterosexual marriage.



I destroyed the ACT today. Somebody's (probably) gonna get some money for IU (probably).

My next post will be my top films from this year with some essays to boot. I'll do it after this week when school is over.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Top Videogames of This Decade

People forget things. Rather nice things.

To prep this list, I looked to other lists and my obscure collection. There may be some glaring omissions: stuff I've never liked (GTA, Ninja Gaiden), stuff I've never got into (World of Warcraft, Psychonauts, Katamari), but I feel this is close.

It's hard to tell if I'm rating the experience I've had from these games or just based on their own merit. Either way, I feel like I did both here. I tend to prefer games that I feel a connection to. An investment, you can call it. This is why I've never wanted to get myself hooked to World of Warcraft.

1.Star Wars: Knights of The Old Republic
2.Banjo Kazooie (It's from this decade, to me.)
3.Super Mario 64
4.Fable
5.Bioshock
6.Jak II
7.Fallout 3
8.Halo 2
9.Rock Band
10.Pokemon Silver
11.Indigo Prophecy
12.Pokemon Snap
13.Mario Tennis
14.Oblivion
15.Splinter Cell: Chaos Theory
16.Kingdom Hearts
17.Super Mario Galaxy
18.Assassin's Creed
19.Table Tennis
20.Fight Night Round 3
21.The Legend of Zelda - Twilight Princess
22.Wii Sports
23.Call of Duty 2
24.Star Wars Battlefront
25.Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time
26.Mario Golf
27.Conker's Bad Fur Day
28.Top Spin
29.Freedom Fighters
30.Lumines
31.Braid
32.Perfect Dark
33. NBA 2K5

Oh, and Paste magazine's top albums of this decade is shockingly similar to my list. I think I'm drifting away from my comfort zone of Pitchfork and Stereogum. Paste may be a good place to settle. Start a nice family. Gated community.

My, there's too much love.

Monday, November 23, 2009

There has been stress.

...and quite a bit, at that. I need some release, but I do not want to spend much time. I spent a couple hours writing a 1200 word dinger about the persuasive aspects of Keith Olbermann's special comment on the passing of prop 8, and it has made me utterly depressed and caused me to lose a great deal of respect for humanity. Maybe it's just because I've been writing a lot lately, and I'm not used to that. Last night I had this idea for a short story while I was in bed. I knew I would never write it unless I did right then, at one o' clock on a school night, so I did. That felt alright, but this is all just so paining. I am so tired and sick of oh so many things. My, oh my. This break can't come soon enough. It feels hard to be alive.



While I'm optimistic, here's something I wrote for a college application about an event in my life when I became acquainted with humanity. Ohz the humanity. Some things are worded kinda silly, but yeah.

A robot taught me how to be a human.
I have deduced in the first eighteen years of my existence that I have a consistent tendency to expend ridiculous amounts of effort to complete a product; even when I am entirely indifferent to the outcome. I entered high school with the hopes of doing everything, asininely chasing eternal happiness. No club, organization, society, team, play, band, honors class, or office was free from my reach.
I have had the experiences of pouring over the esoteric work of archaic men late into the night, forgetting who I was while acting on a stage, and the unfortunately vivid memory of vomiting profusely during summer tennis practices. I waged existential warfare with myself in my spare time; I eventually concluded that I was not truly accomplishing, that I was not truly being human.
My least favorite activity in school was working on the website team for the robotics team. For six weeks in winter, every member was required to return to school, into the busy, cacophonous shop room, and work at least four hours a night, six days a week. For some on the robotics team, this room was a second home for them. I did not share such enthusiasm. I sat on an old couch, laptop at my knees, and typed code. It was a mind-numbing practice: organize files, fix mistakes, become one of the most award-winning FIRST Robotics website in the country, code, look out to watch the robot being made, manage profiles, win more awards, update links, write CSS, code, watch them put the chains on the robot, code, the wheels, code. There was no escape.
Each year we would take a bus down to Atlanta for the national robotics championship. This left me time to battle with myself, listen to dreadfully depressing Elliott Smith songs, code further, and occasionally watch a film. It was one of the busses which sported a DVD player with screens over the seats. This group of engineers and mathematicians found films like The Guardian, Shrek 2, and Sweet Home Alabama to be the most original films made; they watched them ad nauseum. Like many times in robotics, I tuned out.
One time when they popped in the dreadfully silly Hitch, I watched The Royal Tenenbaums on my iPod. The cartoonish, weird, intricate yet seriously depressed film reflected a vision of humanity that I thought was exclusive to my pubescent psyche. At one point in the film, the hero of the story releases a falcon on a rooftop, setting a creature free that he had owned and cherished for so long. I looked up and saw the robot, ready to be used in absurd robot competition, prepared to be tainted by the ramming and force of other robots. I felt like it didn’t want to be here, on this bus, half-listening to Hitch, anymore than I did. And while I did not abscond with my robotic friend, I soon quit the robotics team and joined my school’s Creative Writing Club. I gained a role model who led me into writing and direct videos, solidifying my love for film. It was there that I found a purpose for my existence and started acting human.

Just, fuck. Winter be kind.



The next post here will be different than this.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

I'm gonna let you in on a secret.

I've been playing a game over the past day.

You know how to ruin your favorite movies? Or at least solidify your hatred for one?

Look up foreign movie posters.



I got rid of them because the space they took annoyed me. Sorry.

Friday, November 6, 2009

"Hope you enjoy the future. -1973"

"Motherfucking cocksucker motherfucking shit fucker what am I doing? What am I doing? I don't know what I'm doing. I'm doing the best that I can. I know that's all I can ask of myself. Is that good enough? Is my work doing any good? Is anybody paying attention? Is it hopeless to try and change things? The African guy is a sign, right? Because if he isn't, than nothing in this world makes any sense to me. I'm fucked! Maybe I should quit. Don't quit! Maybe I should just fucking quit. Don't fucking quit! I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to fucking do anymore! Fucker! Fuck shit!"

God, I feel like shit and I'm really not in the mood to talk about anything. I guess it's rude to shit an empty post on here.

So I was driving away from school and feeling like shit while in a desperate need of a nice shit when I saw that a local Blockbuster was shutting down and everything was on sale. The following two hours consisted of me blindly shifting what had to have been thousands of titles, coming this close to purchasing Grumpier Old Men, the sequel to Grumpy Old Men (which was the next logical step after creating a film like Grumpy Old Men,) Glitter, Crossroads, Bratz, The Fox and The Hound TWO (which is the next logical step after making something that should be left alone in it's own, beautiful form). But in all seriousness, I walked away with Wristcutters and Casino Royale, which I always feel morbidly enlightened after watching the former and cooler after watching the latter. Oh yeah, and they had Inland Empire for $4. I almost got that, but was afraid of watching it and... I don't know. That trailer freaked me the fuck out. And it's three fucking hours long. Maybe I thought it would leave me so afraid that I would have to move it to some other room because I feared sleeping around it. I mean, look at this.



Doesn't that scare the shit out of you? Yeah, it does. Apparently it's just a part of a dream sequence, and that's all the face does, but still. Can not live with that ugly.

This part of the movie scares me, too.



Shit, I feel like shit. Shit.

I didn't feel better after leaving, and I don't feel better after writing about it.

Oh, and last week I saw Sufjan Stevens screen The BQE with my favorite people to be around. I have decided that the film is what it is, and nothing more or less. A string quartet named Osso played some songs from Sufjan's Enjoy Your Rabbit, and this was wonderful.



Listening to Conor Oberst is a grim sign, but he doesn't make a lot of songs under the Bright Eyes name I grew up with and love.



I'm gonna watch the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie on VHS, Pizza Hut ads and all.

Ya know, this one.



P.S.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Just Some Videos

So I don't have much time to say anything because I'm very quite busy, but believe me when I say there are. Things are in desperate need of slowing down.

Here are some videos I showed this past week.

And I'm in my school play on November 12th and 14th at 7! It'll probably be my last show, and it's not a horribly written one.







Saturday, October 17, 2009

Some Things Not Really True Concerning Death

Television has always instructed me to, "Live like you are dying." It has never occurred to me until rather recently that this goes the other way, too. Nobody wants to die old. Nobody wants to lose a long battle against cancer. Nobody even wants to be flung out of a car nowadays. That's just boring. Commonplace. Typical. Someone who used to be my best friend died in a boring manner just last year, and I have been thinking of this since. I asked some friends of mine of what would be their "Super Sweet Death." I find that many deathventures include a certain Humpty Dumpty complex. That is, of the prospect of never being put back together again, be it by a rocket launcher to the face or less grotesque dismemberment (though most were explosive). I myself have never thought deeply of the day of my death, nor have I bothered to spend time to wonder how it would happen. I do have fears of death, however. I have gone through high school without anyone "understanding" me, in particular, and my greatest fear is going through the rest of my life like this.
But if my death was chosen, then it would be the most baller shit ever. I'll give a crack at it. Here's how my final day would go. I would have this jar of peanuts. And all I'm doing the whole day is just monching down on these peanuts, so much that the taste of them makes me vomit profusely. Except the vomit will be peanut butter, I will direct my mouth to nearby slices of bread, and I make sandwiches out of it. I gather together everyone who has ever wronged me in a room where I will provide each with a sandwich. After a minute of eating, I inform the group that they ingested my vomit, and this results in further vomit. Real vomit, this time. The room fills up in it and I drown. My wrongdoers are fine, but they forever fear the taste of peanut butter. My ghost returns to my corpse and says, "I have left quite a mess."

Where the Wild Things Are was precious.

This is a teaser for a film I am making.



This song is lovely (just press HQ to make it play).
Does personally connecting with a song on the New Moon soundtrack make me like Edward Cullen, in any way? Either way, here's Bon Iver and St. Vincent's "Roslyn."



P.S.



P.P.S

I deleted my myspace. I think I want to be a good person.



I miss you, Thomas.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

An Eluardian Instance, or Whatever

Yesterday the tennis team traversed to a far-away school to bout in some obscure, meaningless tournament we take part in every year. We ended up placing third out of four teams, receiving no recognition or physical acknowledgment of even going there. For the most part, the air was chilled, making everything beautiful miserable. I tried as much as I could to disconnect myself from the drab, slipping buds into my ears leading to a shuffled up iPod. This was eleven hours of my day. On the twelfth hour, we rode home. I began worrying about time- all the stressful things that have yet to be done, whether I will ever see my friends past high school and what I will do with my life. Like in all of my other moments of desperation, I fell asleep. When I woke up, "Indiana" by Cymbals Eat Guitars played in my buds, the bus was passing by a corn field where a Peregrine Falcon was flying low over the corn. I think of myself as a logical person and takes this for what this is, but it still invoked an emotion, and not many things do. If anything, it was a sign that everything I'm going to do may be worth it and everything that's going to happen will happen.

Winesburg, Ohio may be the best book I've ever read.

Oh, and I'm applying to colleges. My number one choice is this school called Emerson College in Boston. So far, it's the only school that requires a short piece of work, so I worked this up today and hope that they like it.





Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Top Ten Albums of This Decade from Someone Who's Only Been Listening to Music for a Decade and is Unaware How to Properly Capitilize Titles

I stress the album part of it (sorry, Kid A).

Sufjan Stevens – Come on, Feel the Illinoise!












Radiohead – In Rainbows












Arcade Fire – Funeral












Of Montreal – Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?












Bright Eyes – I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning












Grizzly Bear – Veckatimest












French Kicks - Swimming












Andrew Bird - Armchair Apocrypha












LCD Soundsystem – Sound of Silver












The National – Boxer













Here are some close calls that I felt were worth mentioning.

Dashboard Confessional - The Swiss Army Romance
Peter Bjorn and John – Writer’s Block
Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion
TV on the Radio – Return to Cookie Mountain
St. Vincent - Actor
Phoenix - United
Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
Sufjan Stevens – Seven Swans
Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes
Jens Lekman – Night Falls Over Kortedala
Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend

I'm gonna take a nap.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

A Quick Post

My sleep schedule has run town, been sleeping around, and isn't coming back any time soon.

I'm going to talk about tennis again because it's the only thing going on in my life.


Today we beat Pike in a close 3-2 match. Our one singles player, Tyler Scanlan, lost a tough match. For every match, for whatever reason, someone makes cookies for the players. I usually don't feel well enough to eat them but today I wanted to eat them with some dinner (Easy Mac and cottage cheeeeeze). Tyler, meanwhile, is talking to some people who I think are college scouts or whatever.

And here I walk by, carrying five cookies and looking like a moron.

I've decided to put a song at the end of my movie.

Spoiler alert. Edward Cullen dies at the end.

This is not the song.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Rise above. Rise above.

I haven't posted on here in nearly a month. Most nights I'll slump home around seven, look up some blogs or listen to music, and then roll around to nursing my school work. It's a nice little routine, but I don't think I'll keep it up much longer.

Today at my tennis match Michael Kohlmann and I took on these two kids, one tall and skinny and the other bigger. We took an early lead and eventually took the match. The two weren't really that into it, and were mildly getting themselves down. It was pretty subtle though. I mean, I've played kids who scream at me for no apparent reason. On one changeover, their coach called them over and began yelling at the tall skinny kid, asking, "If you're going to have that attitude, then you can just get off the court!" The kid didn't even say a word the whole match. My mom called out to the coach yelling at the boy, causing him to turn around and squabble with her. Later, my mom was speaking with the big kid's mom. She said something to the effect of, "Oh, he should have been kicked off the team a while ago. He never performs and always has a bad attitude and cusses." I remembered that this team's coach had a big problem with cussing, especially saying the Lord's name in vain. It is true that I am religious in nature, but things like this are why I am so cynical in respect to the culture.

Here's the good part.

She capped it off with, "I mean, his dad died not too long ago and that was a big messy deal. He's just been sulking on the court. It's a shame coach is having my boy play with him." The coach's dad, who is their assistant coach, later approached my mom to tell her off. The two coaches and this kid's mother would later congregate and gossip about my mom and her Perry Township school board seat. The coach called our home not to long ago to argue further. A grown-ass adult.

I frankly couldn't give a shit about the reasoning for why the coach was angry. He would probably object to my language, but I can sincerely say that there is a special, freezing circle in Hell for a fucker like that who has such little regard for human life.

This reminds me of another story concerning my dignified language choice. I was working on homework on the floor in my room when a spider came crawling across the room. It startled me, opting me to grab a nearby shoe and smash the beast several times, yelling with each strike, "BOOM, MOTHER FUCKER! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!" That was pretty bad, but I feel as though saying horrible words probably speaks less about my character than having no sincerity for a kid whose dad died.

Those cunt muscles.

More and more I'm feeling as though high school is a synthetic environment that I am above.

I fucking hate spiders.

I do, however, love Keyboard Cats. I made this for you.



Creative Writing Club is broadcasting its 50th video tomorrow. We have a long way to go before our work is done. I'm sporadically working on my movie Return to Danger Mountain. It's very exciting and rewarding. I deeply hope that it isn't awful.

Here's our 50th video. Cheers.



Here's where we started. I get sentimental when I watch some of these.



Mew's new album is great- and an actual album.



This jingle's been on my mind, as well.



Sleep tight.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Much Ado About Twilight

Something silly happened today.

I was driving home from tennis practice, taking a shortcut through a neighborhood. I turned a corner to see what was possibly 30 geese standing in the middle of the street. I came to a stop and sat for awhile. After about 20 seconds I started laughing and figured I would just stick around.

This was until Tyler Scanlan, a fellow teammate, sped right by me, honking wildly and making the creatures run away, wings flapping. This, too, made me laugh.

Oh yeah, school started. I doubt that I will be able to keep my head above water, but that's not really bad. I think people try too much to exist outside of the cacophonous.

That's probably a moral code for all things metal.

Best get climbing.





Oh, and I'll upload something on Vimeo soon.

Edit: Told you I'd do it.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

The end is near.

I just saw an ad for a new "John and Kate Plus 8" episode. Kate was taking the kids to the beach, saying, "I just don't think there's better therapy than the beach."

No Kate. Therapy is a better therapy than the beach. Cable television is not therapy. I mean- shit.


In other news, hello everyone. My schooling is afoot, and it doesn't seem all that bad.

I'm not sure when I began addicted to working, but it probably happened on some late night working on my school's newspaper alongside Alie Hansen, who always worked four hours longer than I did and who I, consequently, hate with the love of a thousand burning suns.

John Huges died. Why oh why couldn't it have been Chris Columbus?

Sometimes I fantasize things how things that shouldn't be adapted into movies would turn out if they were adapted into movies. Lately I've been playing quite a bit of Monopoly on Xbox. One night I was joking around with my sister of how they would make it into some rags to riches depression era story of Mr. Moneybags and how it would be an even shittier version of Cinderella Man.

My wishes have been granted?

Quick poll: Which song makes you more proud to be an American?





I made a Vimeo account. I'll probably update it with a video in high definition every week. I want it to be a video resume, of sorts.

Edit: Here's my first upload, the Prelude version of "Something Important."



Yeah, it's wobbly when embedded, but it can be seen in glorious HD here.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

GO! NO GO!

I went to the Senior Open golfing tournament for old people today with my dad. I do not understand why Asian people sport tight white pants with leather belts, or how they have rookies in a "Senior Open." Also, every person around my age who is into golf wears a collar and appears to be a douchebag. Everyone else is just a high class bro. Outside of the douchebags, everyone is really nice, though. This is probably because we're all watching golf. It's like, I imagine you would get along with your cell mates in prison. The douchebags in golf are to the rapists in jail, which I hear so much about.

...Anyway.

My super sweet 18 went over well. I have to make a shift in thinking in that the more illegal things I do the less serious talking tos I'll get replaced with more jail time. I think I'm going to stop downloading things.

I was at Half Price Books the other day and I was shifting through a shelf aimlessly. I came across a book of non required reading compiled by Dave Eggers (who co-wrote the upcoming Where the Wild Things Are movie) and a bunch of high schoolers who think that they're the shit. But hey! There's an introduction by Sufjan Stevens! I freaked. Very silently, but I freaked. I started skimming through this book, determining if it was just a way of squeezing change out of trashy hipsters like me or if it was really worth a damn (which it certainly is). It wasn't until a mom passed by me with a disturbing glare that I realized that I was also under the erotica section. Yeah, they put a huge section of erotica next to books that are porn to me. I think I may want to work for Half Price next summer. Anybody? Anybody?

Monopoly on Xbox is amazing.

I'm gonna go write comedy.



Last edit, I swear.

So I'm writing something for the literary magazine right now and I was looking through some books that I read a while ago and forgot why I enjoyed them. I sound stupid. Anyway, of all of the Narnia books, my favorite was always The Horse and His Boy. The story goes that there's this boy who is really depressed, so much so that he begins talking to this horse. One day, the horse talks back and they run away to Narnia to go on an adventure.

I never realized how fucking gay that was.

And I remember being pissed when they decided to stop making the Narnia movies because I always envisioned myself as the boy riding on the back of the shining talking stallion. Now I realize that it would probably look like this.



Childhood ruined. Thanks, Clive Staples.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

I'm in love with a stripper

Encouragement is taking over me.





Oh, have I been too discrete?
Going under the hypothetical knife tomorrow. They gonna take shit out of me.

Then I'm going to buy cigs and give plasma every day to buy more cigs.

P.S - John Stewart is the most trusted name in news. Take that, Cronkite.

Another Script -

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Rapunzel Rapunzel, let down your hair!

Strange times. Over the course of the summer I've pulled together pieces and partially wrote a completed screenplay, read a good deal, wrote a lot of CWC videos which I'm very pleased with, spent a lot of time with my friends, been on a work trip, designed a couple websites, written on here every now and then, expanded my music tastes a lot and watched and studied a lot of great films. I feel so lazy. I didn't mean to toot my own horn in that last part. I really didn't. I just think I feel this way because I'm obsessed with projects. And instead of experiencing the completion phase of anything I've been drifting and exploring all summer.

And I'm certainly not obsessed with working. I hate work; It's work. I think that I've spent so much time working on projects for myself, however literal or figurative, that I get really excited when I'm working on something that other people will see and evaluate.

I think that I want to go back to school.

I wonder if Egyptians ever told themselves, "Let's go for another pyramid, eh?"

Well, I'm not an Egyptian. I'm in high school. I'll never grow a beard.

"So the king cast the children in the fiery furnace.
Shadrack, Meshach, Abednego!"





PS - This looks great.

Monday, July 20, 2009

An inside look

I hate Mastodon. Death metal scared me as a child and it still does.

For some reason I've always lumped Wolfmother as a lighter Mastodon. I should note that I listen to neither of these artists and have no clue as to why I make this deduction.

And for quite some time now I've confused Wolfmother with Deerhunter, so as a result, I've hated Deerhunter.

This is how I know I'm probably a racist. Sometimes I confuse my habits with an 80 year old man's.

At any rate, I just listened to Deerhunter for the first time and rather enjoy their stuff.


This music video has nothing to do with what I've said.



You know how you'd listen to music when you were in a certain mood to enhance that mood, even if you don't like that particular mood? Like middle school? And every day since then?

Yeah.



And yes, this song and video totally lacks any connotation or denotation. It's just pretty.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Hello. I'm back.

Things are different from how they were before.

I guess that's always how it is, though.


Edit - I really, really don't like Kings of Leon.

Nutter Edit - In my life I have become acquainted with some terrible people. From my experiences, a terrible person doesn't think about being a "good person," and feels that people generally and genuinely like them for being "themself."

The greatest people I've ever known believe that they are, in fact, terrible people and spend so much of their time trying not to be with a shifting focus on always being concerned of what people think and not giving a shit.



Really just that whole album, actually.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Going south

I'm leaving for a couple weeks come Sunday, so this is my last gulp of published whinery that will be drank out of my literary pimp cup.

I think it's interesting that the straightest, most in depth analysis on world politics is coming from a comedy show. There's probably some statement in that.



Please give him a Peabody. Please.

Yesterday, Jamie Cartwright told me that he loved the new Transformers movie. It is important to note that he didn't just say that it was "wildly entertaining" or "a spectacle," which would be probably be fair. He apparently loved it. Now Jamie is a really smart kid and is my best friend, but I don't know how the appeal of the Transformers movie is any different to that of porn. Yeah, I realize that I'm quite tough on porn when I write here. I give porn a hard time. I erect my statements without sentiment. Penis. What I mean to say is that it's truly disturbing me how the shitty things that get popular are destroying everything. I say "shitty" not in the sense that they're not well made or wildly entertaining, but that they aren't utilizing the mediums to their full potential. The good television programs that are enjoyed by the masses are liked for the completely wrong reasons. I'm talking about the people who still want to know what the smoke monster is on Lost or enjoy 30 Rock only because of the moments when Tracy Jordan yells, not even understanding what his character parodies.

Listen. Every movie nominated for best picture last year was a great film. Yet, I remember someone saying in school, "All those films are arbitrary art house indie shit."

Yeah I can see myself as a snob sometimes. I look down on people who enjoy American Idol or musicals; I'll admit it. I use semi-colons.

But now even the snobby snobs are now finding the indie films snobby.

The Oscars are upping the ante. Next year, there will be 10 nods for best picture. And hey, maybe it is to recognize more talent. But I can't help but feel it's to pass off a nod or two to a Paul Blart: Mall Cop or Transformers to satisfy people.

I said 30 Rock earlier.



Umm... ummm. I'm supposed to always have a link to some music... This is somewhat appropriate. Not really. I listened to too much Bright Eyes in middle school. His latest album is shit. I think it's because he's content. Good for him.



Bye bye 'til the morning comes.

;

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Why people like videogames.

When I was seven years old, I was a pro at Mario Tennis.

Unbeknown to me at the time, the pattern in Mario Tennis was the first algorithm I ever memorized. If I returned the serve to the right, the pattern would be left, right, left, right, up left, top right, and repeat if necessary. The slice did not deviate this pattern, but simply slowed it down, and a volley only introduced variances with net play. This was how it was impossible for me to lose at this game. I'm pretty sure there were 14 or so characters. Winning the tournament with a character normally took an hour or so. After winning the tournament, a star would appear next to your character's name, signifying accomplishment and allowing for "stronger" play (it really just made the ball move quicker, not deviating the algorithm). At eight years old, I had a star on every character. Here's an illustration I just made.



This was how videogames used to be made. Algorithms can only exist in ideal conditions. Videogames were once a means of entertainment that somebody could "figure out." This is why the two top scorers in Donkey Kong are so far away from everyone else and some can beat Super Mario Bros. in six minutes. Upon familiarizing with recognizable and unchangeable instances, it all becomes predictable. Videogames are just more enjoyable than Calculus or, fucking, linguistics. Obviously there is no pattern for loving a woman or baking eggs or battling depression or winning slots or raising a family or raking leaves or waking up with a sense of purpose. This is why videogames exist.

But it's different now.

Like life, there is no way to "figure out" Halo 3. Game designers figured out that there is much more accessible joy in boundless exploration. Someone can be the best Halo 3 player just as there can be a best best basketball player. Except there is no best anymore. This is why games are ultimately worse than they were before but more people can enjoy them. This isn't to say that Bioshock is less enjoyable than Super Mario Bros., but that it can be no matter what. That's why I think Rock Band is the only perfect videogame ever made. Then again, I am probably one of a very few number of people who can see the pattern in Rock Band. Game developers are implementing unpredictability, music, sexual desires, a sense of power, chance, and even love. That should either make you smile or freak you the fuck out.

P.S. Speaking of Swengel's Her0es, I can't believe that we're still first.

I was supposed to be famous.



I luv u. Goo night.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Reinforcing what I said previously

When Bon Iver covers a song, it is better than the original song was.



As a side note, I have 18 scenes of my movie scripted out and ready to shoot. I'd guess that's probably around 20 minutes or so of film. You know the part of working where you get started and start to make headway and are like, "Yeah! I did something good! ...I think I'll take a break for a little while! I'm going to take a day off!" Well, I'm there, procrastinating through blogs postings among other distractions, like reading T.V blogs and getting wrapped up in the Iranian election. I realize that this is stupid and I have no power whatsoever in the outcome, but getting angry at something makes me feel more sure of my life and opinions and all that.

And no, I still don't care about Uganda.

Big LOLs go to whoever wrote this.

http://videogum.com/archives/what-america-wants/america-says-just-fucking-put_074291.html


I'm gonna grab a soda and do work. Oh yeah, why do they call those dispensers "soda fountains?" That makes me imagine a bunch of gazelles gathering around the watering hole, except it's filled with Dr. Pepper.

As always, I am sorry.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Making way.

The past couple weeks have been very strange. I no longer have any sleep schedule. I've spent a lot of time writing, playing video games, listening to music and, most of all, acting grateful for no longer being burdened with memorizing archaic calculus and physics formulas. It's kind of odd how quick I've been transitioning from day to day. Take this past week for instance. Two days I went through an age crisis, then I spent a day expressing unrequited love for the animal kingdom, then a day among the company of others, a day in deep despair, then I spent one day asleep as a result of the day prior, and now it's today and I'm somewhere in the middle. It's not that things have been moving faster, but it's just that I've had more time.

I guess I should talk about some substantial things. Emotions can be so boring if one's not in the mood to express them. My language isn't very colorful right now. I picked up Grizzly Bear's newest album, Veckatimest, and I have given it a good many listens. It always surprises me when I listen to a new record and am able to have my view of acceptable music drastically changed. I feel like music is one of the few mediums in the world where exploration is rewarded and even encouraged, on the artist's and listener's part. I also breezed through Mos Def's The Ecstatic. I liked most of what I heard of that one. I also shifted through Bon Iver's catalog. That man has a lovely voice. As I'm writing this, I'm listening though Dirty Projectors' Bitte Orca. It's really creepy but very quite lovely. It's kinda like St. Vincent's Actor. I'd say that it's way more comprehensive than Actor, though. I'm just going to throw out some music, hope something sticks and call it a day. Aw fuck, the sun's going up. I'm going to get my sleep schedule back in order.






Oh yeah, and I saw Wicked.

Update: It's a full day later since we last spoke and I still haven't slept. Oh, and Bitte Orca is a great album. Here.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

A wise man once told me, "I need to get you some pu---."

One night not so long ago I watched the new Star Trek movie and thought it was super tight. Having never seen an episode of Star Trek, I watched the first couple episodes of the original series out of curiosity, fully expecting it to be terrible. I have now committed myself to watching every episode of at least the first season by the end of the summer.

I can best sum up the original Star Trek series as a bunch of dudes flying around while a bunch of crazy shit goes down. Every episode, some new shit goes down. They use some clever storytelling to come to some moral conclusion. This conclusion usually ends in Kirk's chair saying something reflective, somewhat akin to Pinky and the Brain.

So the show is crazy formulaic and really good, but I just finished watching an episode I can't really let get past me. The episode, "Charlie X" is about this teenager who was picked up from some deserted planet and was the last surviving creature there. Apparently, he doesn't know how to interact with humans. He tags along the Enterprise, does some card tricks, sucks at chess and slaps Kirk's butt. After getting rejected by one of the hot chicks on board, he starts making some serious shit go down. Like, shit starts exploding and people start disappearing. By this point it's going just great for me. It's really interesting and they're basically saying what an insecure teenager would do if they had superpowers. Fucking superpowers.

Then all of a sudden, this green flashing dude appears on the ship's deck and makes the kid go away. Everything is fine now. Kirk ends the episode saying to the hot chick, "It's OK. It's all over now," which is a concise statement on how I felt about the episode. I felt like I was watching Wolverine. Man, fuck Wolverine. Deus ex machinas are lame, yo. I'm going to bed.

Summer has been going great, by the way. I'll never want it to end if it goes on like this.

Oh, and that wise man I was talking about in the blog title was Sam Riggleman. I'm not joking. Are you reading this, Sheehan? I am not fucking joking. That's part of the reason why this is the greatest summer ever.

PS: This song is a joy to play (3:32 is the coolest thing i've ever seen).

Saturday, May 23, 2009

We love you so

http://www.jenslekman.com/records/THESUMMERNEVERENDS.mp3



Reading: This Island Earth, Deep Space and Danger Mountain

Sunday, May 17, 2009




for now on i'll put these on facebook or something rather than keep posting blogs about them.

star trek is a really good movie. i want to be done with school.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Collapse into your selfish point of view.

The next few days consist of finishing the Senior Issue of the FOCUS, the Cub Issue of said publication, the Calculus AP test and The Little Prince.

This Island Earth comes out tomorrow! Once school ends, I will write this movie thing I've been talking about.

I imagined this post being much more substantial, but I have nothing to say other than I am busy and happy being busy because the busy things are making me happy. God, I enjoy what I do. And i enjoy more that what I don't enjoy is about to end, namely Calculus and Physics.

I heard Isaac Newton was a queer, anyway.

On repeat- or at least played once and cared to share.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Plans

I have recently decided to make a full length movie and I am announcing it here.

If all goes well it will be released in about a year and sold with the literary magazine.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Good Thing

I've learned to accept that there are some parts of my life that will go away.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Oh, Shit.

EDIT: Yesterday I went to the doctor and they said I needed my appendix removed so I did. I blame Sophie and the shit bath for this.



This is the most disgusting thing happened to me in my life.
Stop reading now.

I came home from school and took my dog out to go to the bathroom. Her name is Sophie and she's a mix between a bichon and a poodle. She runs to me and is jumping against my leg, wanting to go out. Ok, so I take her out on a leash and she runs past her normal spot telling me that she wants to go to her favorite pooping spot. "Ok, whatever," I think. I then realize that her butt is covered in poop. Ok, she'll just get the rest off and wipe it in the grass. I was standing there for five minutes in the wind while she tried to poop. I got agitated so I picked her up, poop away from face, and carried her home. There were some neighborhood walkers who I passed and said hello to Sophie and myself with a laugh. I said pathetically, "I am doing this all wrong." Ok. Ok. Ok.

I get her in the bath to wash the poop off of her. It's proving to be difficult. I needed to get her dog wash, so I tell her to stay in my tub and close the door. This is all good and well, but I didn't close the door. I come back to my bathroom with the dog wash and it's like a scene from a Disney movie. I see a wet paw print on my bath mat next to a little pile of shit. There are little pieces of shit all around my bathroom with my dog nowhere to be found. I am furious, and begin running around the house yelling for my dog. I run around for a while, and then head back downstairs to my room and I see Sophie standing at the bottom of the stairs smiling at me. I have never wanted to harm an animal in my life until this point. I take her and wash her up, except I notice I have shit on my clothes. I strip down, get beside the tub and scrub her down.

Then I remember, "Damn it! There's little pieces of shit all around my house!" I then went around the house, not caring to get a towel, and pick up the shit. I remembered to close the door, but Sophie had fun spreading shit water all over my bathroom, nonetheless. She's smiling this whole time. All I feel is hate.

So I opt to get in the tub filled with shit water because I've had enough of it. I got a lot of shit on my fingers, but I realized I was at a point where shit had no effect on me. I wondered if this was how it is with war and violence. Like, it's the part of the movie where the lone soldier is in the jungle and is, like, "Fuck it. I'm going out," and then smears blood on his face and kills some Vietnamese.

That's what happened with me, except with shit.

So I dried her off, let her go, cleaned my bathroom, and then underwent a 40 minute shower.

I will never wash away the shame.

On repeat: