" paegan holidays and intercultural osmosis "

---

funny thing about "holidays." when you're in a far-off country, you start to realize that you really don't care about celebrating them. which brings into question if you really enjoyed them at all.

i'm sure that i do enjoy halloween, but being here, it just makes no sense. there are all of these talk-shows and music programs that are all halloween-crazy, showing ways to make a home-made costume, where to go party hearty, and explaining why ghosts are real and really scary. it's not that this information is not valid or useful, but it's just sort of a sociocultural tangent.

it's akin to folks in the states going nuts over songkran-the thai new year's festival, or zimbabwe making state-wide preparation for the italian tomato-lobbing festival, or even the russians selling the idea of a really sweet voodoo ceremony. it's sorta cool, but ultimately displaced, disassociated, and disempowering.

not that it's bad or shows a lack of respect. moreover it just looks...well, sorta funny. although in thailand, there is a really deep-rooted belief in animism and the spirit world, which is more of a subsect of the current national religion (buddhism) but is readily practiced (ie - spirit houses). so that's kinda ghost/spirit oriented.

you begin to see how even though you come from a country that is all amass with dressing up to a)take some kids out trick-or-treating so that "crazies" won't get to them or accidentally eat a syringe, or b)get super sloshed and snackered at a friend's house by consuming too much "spooky punch" and tipsily dance around with a "slutty" (insert any normal occupation of women in uniform here) or a (insert stereotypically male/queer/movie reference/comic book/my little pony outfit here) until you pass out in the bathroom and puke on yourself something fierce so that you end up having a "great time" but your friends have to "clean-your-drunk-ass-up," that you somehow are just not "feelin' it" this year.

[and yes, i fully acknowledge that i just made a much too long single-sentence description of my thought pattern and overused the quotation marks as a viable punctuation, thanks for noticing.]

i'm not saying all of this to poo-poo on everyone's fun, i'm just disappointed in not being able to participate is all. so go. get out there tonight all of you ghouls, godzillas, dead hookers, x-men, "doctors," french aristocrats/ren-fair geeks, dirty schoolgirls, cavemen/witch doctors, matrixed-out drones, and betty rubble's, i 'm rooting for you.

just remember to drink some water before you go to bed, and don't forget that the election is coming really soon (hey, i bet bush is dressing up as a stupid fucking puppet that doesn't know what he's doing......mmmm, yeah yeah yeah...and so on and so forth). and crazy teenagers? don't egg my house this year, cause i'm not going to be there to clean it up. while you're at it though, you could clean my car; i promise to pay you in milk duds when i get back. really.

so yay all hallow's eve, and yay trick-or-treating.

tonight's homework:

this year, how about doing us all a huge favor, and try not to make the fat kids dressed up as spider-man cry by scaring them too much. i mean, c'mon guys, their cheeks might be huge, but their little hearts...they just can't handle it.

---

" oh yeah? well sir, what makes you so special? "

---

i find myself particularly meticulous in organizing things. i create lists of seemingly useless information, just because i might happen to need it someday. there's a fine line between "neat" and "mania," of which i have been able to navigate thus far with some above-average success.

it's as if i am constantly in preparation for something outstanding, but have no clue what that may be. i mean, what would i have gained by being able to fold clothes really really well, or create databases for the storing of my photographic negatives by date, subject, and location, or fry a non-oily egg so that the bottom is all nice and crispy and brown while the top is cooked just perfect enough to not have the snotty egg-white all oozing; the yolk hot and intact?

an abundance of useless perfections perfected in the hope that these high standards will pay off somewhere. i'm even sure that these 'talents' go underappreciated by people who don't fully realize the unnecessary amount of time i spend organizing my bookshelves at home by subject, size, and reading frequency. it almost nearly boggles the mind in a very underwhelming way.

but, i'm sure of one thing. there will be a day when someone will come along and be begging for the secrets of how i put together my super dvd collection, have the distinct ability to find out which pens in my can-o-pens are usable or not, and the ability to create the craziest banana-blueberry waffles ever. it'll happen. just be patient. also. two words: duck tape? think about it.

and if you don't believe for a moment that useless skills can't come in handy at opportune times, check out these two super nerdy sites. it'll be sorta dorky at first, but then you're just going to have to do it yourself. and i'll tell you what...they're kinda rad.

http://www.rebelscum.com/article.asp?i=59978

http://www.ethergraphics.com/sw/pumpkins/

tonight's home work:

try to think about ways that you are underappreciated, then find someone and explore the activity together. who knows? you might make a new nerd-friend. i know i'd hang out with you.

---

" the universe is rad "

---

yay planets, moons, stars, wormholes, anti-matter theories, dark energy, and gaseous formations! also a hearty big up to intergalactic transgressions too.

outer space is one of the most intriguing spectacles that normal 9-5 humans usually have no time for. a friend of mine turned me onto this site, and it's fun, because everyday, a different astronomer shows you something cool about the infinite, and also provides blurbs and links with which to click on if so desired.

soooo, for those of us in parts of the world that didn't have the pleasure of seeing this years lunar eclipse, here's a swanky composite photo done by some galaxy-watching nerds somewhere.

lunar eclipse

(c) http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/

looking up to the skies is a free activity, that brings us endless moments of pause and reflection. it's a crazy place to be, this earth of ours.

enjoy it while you have the time...or eyes..that is, unless you happen to be blind. in which case i can describe it to you in great detail.

---

" the straight forward of it "

---

the notes on a recent ("non-argue") argument i'm (not?) having:

i mean, if you have something to say, just say it. the "silent treatment" was designed for and is used notoriously by pre-school teachers and kids in middle school relationships. it does nothing forwarding, except to prove to someone that you have an outstanding ability to ignore. why waste time not looking at me, edging away from me, leaving rooms when i enter them, and moreover become this cold voiceless roadblock? it really makes me not want to get back to the space when we were actually friends.

i have other things i could be spending time doing, other than pretending that you also don't exist. the one thing that really is nice of you to do too, is speak to everyone else around me as if i cannot hear you. oh, and the fun way you make it so i can't be in your presence by asking people to go eat and then leave w/out asking if i'm hungry. that's cool, if you think these things will get to me; i'm already an adult with other things to worry about.

and the cartoon voice you use with your boyfriend and when you want something from people who would've normally helped you out if you spoke normally, is bordering on mania...get/use a real voice. men that like adult women with baby voices also love to have sex with little girls and children. think about it.

better yet, tell someone off, if you have the chance. that way they'll actually know how you feel. it's interesting to note how spoiled little kids eventually become high-maintenance/emotionally unstable and unfulfilled/overcompensating-but-still-little-kids-in-their-thoughts/functionability adults. why is that do you think?

i call it "the power-pout." i mean who cares if you look good in fur or drive a bentley with gold plating(based currently on the dreams of every aspiring super-star singer/actress/model from hip-hop filtered projected dreamlifes in MTV music videos)? you're still underdeveloped emotionally and a serious psychological quandry. i.e. - please get over yourself.

i can get this kind of cold-hatred from people who disliked 'eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.' or the other thing i enjoy sometimes are the vapid and collective "derr?'s," "whaaa!?'s," and the nice-when-placed-correctly-but rarely-done-so "ah-buuh?'s." meaning, ever heard of the term 'if you don't use it, you're gonna lose it?' yeah, read into that all you want. then learn up how how to be friends with someone. i think you might find that you're being somewhat harsh.

give me someone i can talk to like a human. someone with a heart, and a soul. a conscience and a voice. a sense of conviction and the ability to forgive when it's just become an exercise in holding your breath underwater.

these are the subtle building blocks for creating a sustainable interactivity between people.

communication people!

let's get to it.

(clap, clap)

---

" no, thank you wendy "

---

i think i just might kick ass.

there are times to just feel good that your work is getting out there, in whatever form it may transit. i mean, you have these moments where you sit and deconstruct your art or craft all to bits, until there's nothing left of yourself in there. hollow husks gently fading away, the sturdy planks of your mind's ship splinter into brittle remains and gently gather dust, the doubt compounding with every supposed failure.

but then you have to slowly piece yourself back together. scoop the essence of your being and start again. so as it seems, by placing myself out there, on electrical unseen limbs, i'm now three for three.

listen to wendy people, and spread the word, 'cause i'm a comin' !!

here's to november 7th's arrival.

---

Hi c. bay milin-

Thanks for submitting "the ride home" to the KQED "Photo of the Day" Gallery. Your photo will be featured on KQED.org's homepage on November 7.

http://www.kqed.org

Your photo will then reside in the "Photo of the Day" November 2004 Gallery.http://www.kqed.org/topics/local/november04/

Be sure to spread the word about our new "Photo of the Day" feature and gallery. We are always looking for excellent photos like yours to share with the KQED.org community.

Thanks,

WendyKQED.org
"Photo of the Day" Editor

---

it's all about success in tiny increments, daily and onward.

tonight's homework:

make a little movement forward in your own work. i promise you'll feel better.

---

" japanese makers, and sometimes shakers "

---

in being closer to the asian market in terms of films and distribution, i thought i'd take a look into some of my favorite japanese filmmakers. now, in doing so, i realize that the only reason that i even know the names of these makers, is that their work has jumped the median wall of international distribution. and that's fair; how else was i supposed to educate myself?

i mean sure, any random hipster can look at a list of most people's favorite anythings, and just say "hey man, your likes are so predictable and generic...(then)...if you really want to check out someone interesting and unique, look at (insert 'person that no one in the entire world knows but should care about' here)." and if i were in the business of making a list of likes that would just make people feel inadequate about themselves and their interests, then i might say something like that.

but i'm not "that guy."

so, below check out some makers i find particularly interesting in the scope of japanese popular filmmaking. although i don't know if you would happen to know these people from their first names...except for maybe the very very interesting "beat" takeshi.

after that, check out all of the other makers that made their list (interviews), and then stretch your arms out into the world. flex those internet-like tendrils and seek out obscure interesting people and things to add to your own lists, cause i'm doing the same thing on my end of the world.

- kore-eda hirokazu -

- "beat" takeshi -

- oshii mamoru -

(c) http://www.midnighteye.com

now do some clickity click clicking, and learn you something about the wider world of filmmaking.

---

" the towel, and when to throw it in "

---

i am growing more and more ready to escape here. meaning there is and has been no sign that what i am doing here is forwarding. this situation is getting to me and i have way too many mosquito bites covering the lengths of my body.

i want a sign. i want one like a bolt of lightning straight to the chest. a bright glowing orb beckoning me out of my body, pleading me to follow it to success. an elfish gnome-like creature popping in from an unknown point of dimensional origin expounding lavishly the way in which i will benefit by sticking it out.

six more months until it comes time to choose.

i'm doing research. i am writing a lot more. i am contacting knowledgeable parties and getting things done in the meanwhile; all in this up-in-the-air supposed 'meanwhile.' and i believe that it's doing me good, but who's to know?

tonight's homework:

take one of your life's plans; the one that you leave sitting on the dusty shelf of your mind. brush that sucker off and get it all spic and span-like. then set to attain it by doing it. if you meet an obstacle of some sort, tell me about it, and maybe i can cast a faraway spell on it, but i tell you, my spells are not as strong as they used to be. then again, maybe they're just powerful enough still.

---

" the perpetuation of dumb "

---

in the wake of the 'six-month mark' of me being in BKK, i'm writing a letter to me:


hey man,

lighten up there, sir. no one is blaming you for the things you like. i mean, you're a fairly likeable guy, albeit sometimes rough on yourself. there are many things going on at the same time, and for that fact alone, you cannot possibly do all of them.

you have to be patient. you have to drink plenty of water and eat proper. things are going to happen to you; i can feel it. remember that time you had no clue what you wanted? that was really funny. your eyes would be all bloodshot from the stress, you would eat strange things and sleep at crazy hours of the day and night, and nothing you did could change the fact that things were all happening around you.

it's a wonder you even made it here. i'm surprised and proud of you. so it's hot, and you have no clue what your doing? that's the fun of it right? go ahead and admit it; you dig it here. only six more months to go. take a stand for yourself in the purely selfish quest for creative freedom! it can and will happen. i promise you.

the mere fact that you are writing a letter to yourself in the form of a blog post, should be a large enough clue that things are either going well or not, or both at the same time. which in of itself is okay. who says these things cannot happen? this is why you are going to make it no matter where you are in the world. there is no doubt that you will make it.

go get em tiger; you smell terrific.

love,

you, again meaning me.

---

" doo-doo ca-ka, now on paper in pencil form! "

---

i consider my drawing skills to be that of a professional doodler. this is not to say i can do photorealistic portraiture, but i think if i had to scribble out a cartoon spatula or the occasional smiley-face, i'm sure i could rock it out with the utmost confidence.

but as of late, the drawings, they won't come. my hands go through the motions. i have this great idea in my head all graphically set on just laying it out on paper, and nothing happens. i stare and stare at blank sheets of paper that lay on flat surfaces; my hands unmet with the surface due to the fear of messing up the pristine spread.

i hate not being able to draw out what i want to. it is the most frustrating feeling, previsualizing a picture you want to draw, and then when it comes out, your brain and sense of repetition cannot meet halfway, so what you end up with is the last thing you tried to wing your way through only with a slight variation.

and another thing, how come i cannot break the habit of not ever being able to draw bodies in total. maybe the complete lack of training coupled with the 18 year-old practice of being a professional doodling scribbler, has molded me into this artist who can only do parts of bodies. i'm really bang up at hands, feet, individual eyes but not the face around them, 3/4 poses, but not the body below the clavicles, head shapes but not the hair around them. it's like i cannot make the pictures in my head manifest and it's bothering me.

so today i wasted a whole day trying to draw a bunch of crap that i couldn't draw, and i was having fun for the most part, but now that i have used a large stack of paper and the sun has set, it's like staring at a big stack of poo that has lines on it. and that feels great to know that i am not as good as i can be. the funny thing is that no matter how bad i feel i get sometimes, it never stops me from wanting to draw something new. that's just messed up in of itself.

at least there's tomorrow to suck again.

---

" the sounds inside your head "

---

sometimes in the low DB sliver of night, you can actually hear radio waves, conversations, ghostly phrases, and indescribable sounds in side of your head. but maybe not. i don't know.

like this one time when i was six: i was getting ready to go to bed, and thought to myself that it was really really hot. my mom got me and my brother matching pattern pajamas; the kind that is sort of an awkward "one-all." the main features of this glorious garment being the zipper(which ran from the left ankle, up the leg, over to the midsection, and ended at the chest), and the sown-on felt bunnies which were having a party. hey man, i was six. bunnies were way in!

and the other weird thing is that all the other asian kids i knew at the time had them, in alternating colors just like me and my brother (yellow and blue respectfully). i mean, isn't that sort of strange and normal all at the same time?

...

so i'm all brushing my teeth singing sesame street songs, and wondering 'why am i wearing socks? if i had to run somewhere in a hurry, the plastic bottoms on the feet of these pajamas are sort of like socks. that's weird." of course this just made my toes cringe, and they silently begged for a release.

i climbed into bed and my mom came into my room to make sure i was going to remember to wear the clothes she laid out for me that evening. i was all "yeah yeah yeah," as six year-olds tend to bleat out at times. then i tried to go to bed. i always really dug going to bed around that time in my life cause i had this really rad return of the jedi sleeping bag that had super pictures of ewok families on it and stuff. i mean, who was i to not make them speak to each other? i was six and star wars is really just swell (c'mon, it's okay. just admit it. i'll make you lemonade).


i lay my head against my pillow and closed my eyes. a few minutes later, i heard someone say my name. i raised my head and looked around. there was no one except my brother in the room. i thought pretty much nothing of it and i closed my eyes again. i kept quietly freaking out cause of the voice, and was getting really sweaty in my one-all pj's, which is not as fun as it sounds.

then i hear a deep resonating thud. then another, and another in a slow tempo. in my little crafty kid-brain, i imagined a tall gray shadow monster slowly walking up to my house. it was really freaky. when you're a kid and in your head there's this monster is coming for you, and you have absolutely no clue why? that's like worse than sandpapering your butt!..um, although not from experience...it's just what i heard, somewhere.

i shut my eyes as tight as i could, until alternating flashes of colors and white brightness flowed behind my eyelids. in my head i invented a sort of people-mover/flattened escalator on my sidewalk, so that the monster could never reach my house. the scenario played through my tiny head over and over until i woke up the next morning. the sun was shining, and the monster had not reached my house. i was smiling and happy.

i got dressed, showered and bathroomed, and packed my school gear, then ran to eat and was ready to go. then my mom looked at me all funny and asked me where i was going. i said i was ready for school. she looked at me with this "my kid is so programmed it's nuts, but look at his outfit" sort of parental look. i was readily informed that it was saturday. after that nothing really made sense.

okay, i have no clue what that means in terms of the sounds, but i guess there's a moral in there somewhere. i really miss that sleeping bag though. it had these really cool drawings of chewbacca and the crimson imperial guards. that was always so cool.

star wars is so rad.

---

" made up icelandic languages are rad "

---

so yeah, it's not like i'm discovering anything new, but sigur rós, that super-ethereal-roaming-the-icelandic-tundra-wastelands-in-those-hours-where-you-cannot-tell-if-it's-night-or-day-music-maker group of a band?

they're rad.

so they're from a tiny island and speak in those classic icelandic accents. so they speak 'hopelandic' (a nonsensical language based moreover on sound quality than literal meaning) on most of their songs. so everyone and they momma's have already gotten their albums, and have already thoroughly enjoyed them as i have and still do.

they're so rad!

i've been in thailand for almost 6 months now, and just DL-ed the crap outta their super website. it's nice when you feel like listening to "that one track right now," and are able to do it. that is happiness in small moments of clarity.

big shout out to petur magnusson all the way in the NYC and his big bro luke the duke (aka DJ Platurn of the 'oakland faders' movement), who tuned me onto that noise. hey pete man, remember when we almost got eaten by those horses that were really ghost-people stuck in earthbound bodies, near those icelandic ruins? that was scary.

sigur rós is rad

(c)...sigur rós...

so go ahead and peep their site and see if you dig em. they might not do it for everyone, but they sure do it for me. if i were still in iceland, i'd take them out for hotdogs, i mean after swimming of course.

tonight's homework:

find that record or album that you have not heard in a long time, invite some friends over, place that monkey on, and then have a fun arts-and-crafts night...ooh or play scrabble, cause scrabble is always tops.

---

" the normalcy of servants "

---

there is this new burmese maid that came to work in the house of my boss-lady around 2 months ago . she is a tiny small thing with a flash in her eyes. i guess she is aged 11-13 years old, but cannot tell for sure. she smiles only when she thinks no one is watching her. i have no clue how she came, sufficed to say that she is now here.

the other day, i heard that she was beaten and scolded by first my boss then her sister, another maid. it is heartbreaking to not be able to do or say anything against this, as it is a normal practice (having maids and physical/psychological forms of punishment) of retaining servants.

the other maids laughed because they had also been through this treatment, and know better than to spill something, or do anything outside of carrying out their multiple duties in proper order.

upon hearing this story, i felt wounded on the inside.

i mean, what do you do?

burmese maid ~11-13 years old

(c) baystar_one...2347

: thunda :

she is not faceless.

she is not nameless,


and in her

you can see the weight of the world,


resting upon

frail brown shoulders.


almost completely unseen,

alone, un-trusted, beaten at times,


and barely existing;

one wants to hold her close and tell her to be strong.


but one doesn't,

and she remains as she was and is.


un-saveable,

her life not in her own hands.

---

" of wasting time in the right way "

---

there are moments when i have to take into account that i am a very lucky person. i have access that most don't. i am unique in that i am me. there is no other person like me, just other people that are seemingly the same. this gives me the advantage of having a personal "voice."

i have been thinking as of late, upon the decision to pursue this grand tradition of filmmaking; how to begin, how to make thought into action, how to create rather than plan. it's a flurry of doubts encased in a desire.

there are important things happening every day that no one sees. there are things that are just pleading within society and its ills to become manifest. of course my chosen craft is both photography and cinema; the latter being one of the singular most exploited and easily exploitable of the audio-visual crafts.

it is so easy to make a cinematic piece of poo, which is pretty-looking and garners acclamation(and money) from the masses of mindless drones/viewers. but, i would rather have 20 people see the work i am capable of making, and have those few individuals think about a greater depth to the world. a greater change, and a deeper truth to what we might call our lives.

i am growing impatient of waiting waiting waiting, but have yet to properly find that starting point. i do not doubt it will come soon, and when it does, i hope that i will have the opportunity to tell the things i have to tell, in a resounding timbre which will echo.

today's researched interests:

interview on the short "hole", by tsai ming-liang, director

short bio on christopher doyle

"Hollywood filmmakers, by and large, have everything at their disposal except something to say."

---

" of film festivals and shorts "

---

as with the last attempt at film festival attendance, i packed my bag the night before. jacket? check.(thai movie theatres are sweet and cheap, but are notoriously cold!!!), money? check. time window?

it takes me under 5 minutes to reach the Mo Chit Sky Train BTS station. 15-20 minutes to get to the Chit Lom station, 10 minutes to walk to the EGV Metropolis cinema, and then just wait for the show to start. so all in all, around 35 minutes of transit(disregarding traffic, crazy foreigners screaming on the train, and people that just walk so slow, so slow, like move it, ahhhhhhhhh).

of course it takes me an hour for some reason, but i do get there. and this is what i saw (spoilers ahead, but who's going to see these in all honesty? no being mean, just realistic) [links and names are credited where available; some links require both thai font and reading comprehension of the thai language]:

---

1. " the orphan with the magic voice" by miha mazzini, 14 mins. slovenia

- a cautionary tale of stealing (?) magical posters from flea market cinema memorabilia stands? this film opened with a couple going to a children's home to adopt a child, and then a boy named little willy steps out of the line and starts singing a song in italian. mama mama mama...and so forth. then a small musical-inspired interlude ensues. cut to the flea market, where a man is looking at a poster of willy, then steals the poster, unfurls it in his car, and little willy appears in his car and starts to sing the same song then chases the man and touches people on the forehead transforming them into other little willy's. like what?

i was entertained, i think.


2. "to you" by deja piyavhataku, digital, thailand

- a story shot in dingy-digi format, about a woman who shallowly goes out with a "lizard-faced" man who comes into her store to purchase stamps and letter writing materials, then dumps him in a fit of self-induced boredom after expressing that he'll never satisfy her dreams. the man dies and sends her a letter post mortem giving her the one thing she dreams about the most, plane tickets to germany. she cries and the shot shakily fades to black.

even though it's shot in crappy digital noisy-speckle format(which adds nothing but visual distraction in the piece), it does have a semblance of a story within it;s choppy editing and obviously not-too-well-thought-out singular plotline. there's hope among the unnecessary i-movie splices made.


3. "CIRCLive" by nitipohn sisatabut, BKK university, found photo and computer manipulation/animation, thailand

-a story about a tiny metal man comprised of engine parts and fuel injector fans living in a "daily grind" world of pollution and overwhelmingly mechanical cities.

told in hard metal rock music, this animation repeats itself twice in its repetitious attempt to bring home the point that we are all cogs and we live in a polluted hell of a world. at least i think that's what the maker was trying to state...either that or he forgot to delete the film-running-on-a-loop in the mpeg transfer.


4. "why do you want to fly?" by thiraporn v., digital + computer manipulation/animation interlude, thailand

- a story about a daydreaming greatly-in-need-of-ridalin child who dreams of flight, much to the dismay of his teacher and parent. he believes that by attaining flight, he will be "cool."

this digital short shows how little these students/makers are learning about the art of image placement, timing, and editing when talking about trying to maximize the cinematic format. the story is there, but it is lost in an MTV mix of flashy shots, unusable jump cuts, interludes that are unexplained and noisy(both visually and audibly), and it just loses my interest by the time it all-too-lately wraps up. the maker brakes the 4th wall on more than one occasion by changing the frame-size of the shots, and switching inbetween wide and distorted formats. there is a tinge of sentiment from the boy as he is all grown up, but by the time we "understand" him, we already don't care about him. one of the only redeeming things about this short is the animated sequence, which is really confusing, but way more effective as a fantasy explanation of the boy's mania.


5. "the last sky passenger: file 042" by tosapohn bunsinsuk/thammasat university students, various digital, thailand

- a day trip to Dream World by a group of students turn into a day of observation and reflection.

told in a first-person camera-as-the-eye POV, this short is split into three sections. alongside the obvious use of digital camera and handheld shakiness, this piece incorporates the "eyes" of multiple observers, looking at the sky, shots of trees and vegetation, and glimpses of concrete buildings. the first two parts are accompanied by songs by the french-duo AIR, which i can only guess is used because their songs kick ass, and their name coincides with the theme of the piece(s)? there is something that ties the three pieces together, and that is the notion or validation of the sky, air, wind, and cloud formations. the final section of the trisected short uses a technique seen in forgotten honda/toyota advertisements, whereby the camera spins forward on a set axis and shows shots upside down as well as seemingly falling forward. i assume the final section's makers wanted to say something about empty places, and something about the sky. the implications of technique do not translate or convey any solid theme, other than the existence of a sky, so i will leave it at that.


6. "PIK-BAAN-HAO" by supawut boonmahatakorn & samart suwanarut, thai indie/box films, digital, thailand

- a man from the I-san(north-eastern region) part of thailand ventures down into the work-for-peanuts world of bangkok, the capital city of thailand. will he succeed in making enough money to help his family and love back home?

this short is not really the cat's meow, but out of all, it was the most effectively used and well thought-out of the shorts. the main story line is one that has been used over and over in at least every single form of thai entertainment ranging from songs to soap opera plots. the interesting thing that the makers do in this short is voiceover a japanese tale of a mackerel who decides to explore the outer world, and ends up changed and disillusioned. the parallel between the two stories is that they are both fishes out-of-water. one of the more interesting passages is when the man becomes a salesman of stainless steel cookware, and trys to hock his goods to everyone that will give him ten minutes of their time. the protagonists' voice repeats over and over his sales pitch, interspliced with shots of bangkok traffic, people rushing from hither to thither, and him contemplating the "next step" by the train tracks. a use of a clip segment by the icelandic artist bjork, shows promise, but by repeating the beginning of the track "cocoon"(off of the album 'vespertine'), the makers overuse the loop and it begins to distract the viewer from the experience of the protagonist. he loves his home and speaks to his lover and his family by use of a cell phone(another overused theme seen in many 'luk thung' music videos), but by the end of the story he falls off a bus or something, and somehow arrives back home amidst a all-too-abrupt cut to black, then the credits roll. even though this is the best of the pack, it still is a little choppy, and ultimately shows promise for future projects.


7. "bus stop" by (?), so digital, thailand

- a tale of a boy's life in BKK who sells his body to men for money at a local bus stop, following a broken home at childhood, and seeks to control his own life on his own terms with and the trails and tribulations of his experience therein.

this is the one piece of of the rest that one can see that the intention of the piece overwhelmed the ability to convey it. it is a mini-epic and the story itself has a downward-spiral format; the male protagonist seemingly doesn't care about anything in his life, except cigarettes and the love-hate relationship with the use of his body. he shows disregard for any kind of sexual protection, and it is that which comes off stronger than the story itself; the lack of condoms. if anything the themes of this piece could very well be on the consumption of tobacco products, the sexual habits of today's modern youths, and the struggling disillusion of living in bangkok's polluted metropolis. there are glaring examples of digital camera use (however also shown in the successful hollywooded-up steven soderbergh's "full frontal") which overtake the "vision" of the director's, odd cuts and splices here and there that also do not help the piece, and a flip-flopping jilted timeline that keeps intercutting to prove a powerful parallel between the past/present but fails to deliver the emotional impact due to its overstylized/underutilized editing cuts. although the protagonist realizes the horror of his ways though a sexual interaction with his father figured out all-too-late, we still see this as the only consequence in his life. i mean, there is a montage of him having sex/anal raping/murdering(?) his girlfriend(?), and there is no audio/visual explanation of intent or consequence in his actions of savagery. the piece tries very hard to convey a tortured soul or something close to a destroyed childhood resulting in a young man on the tilt of the wrong path, but it fall flat, like a flan in a cupboard. in the end i really wanted to like it, but it had too many underdeveloped symbolycisms and unnecessary shots that took away from the spine of the protagonists journey. it just tried too hard, and didn't pan out well.

---

the one thing about thai short films is that you have to give credit where credit is due. most of these makers were most likely first-timers and students, experimenting with their available equipment, and trying very hard to convey sometimes complex issues in the span of 7-17 minutes. i'm sure the actors are non-actors, or people who have the desire to act, but fall into the trap that is thai melodrama and soap operatic-style.

the sound is not mixed well at all; all on-location sound has not been tended to and breaks the 4th wall in all of the shorts that are not more experimental in format. the technical prowess of most of the makers show form of first-time users of the equipment, but this is almost overlook-able due to the fact that these people will most likely receive further guidance in terms of shots, framing, mise-en-scene, lighting, and montage, if they so choose to refine the more technical aspects of their chosen craft.

knowing this task is before these makers when creating their pieces, we also must understand that there is a very strict and nationally abhorred filmmaking system in place. there is no ratings system, and it is almost near to impossible to get anything not made for a large entertainment house screened.

it's not bad enough that thai films emulate the worst of hollywood, they're attempting to create smaller individual hollywood's out of all of the entertainment empire conglomerates. this pushes me more to try and make films here insanely enough.

[disclaimer: this post/review is (c)2004 and reflects my own personal view regarding the shorts themselves and the thai film industry]

kudos to the makers who got the works screened and also on their future projects, as i should be only so lucky in the near future.

---

" pardon my french, but i shit bigger than this "

---

there comes a time in every consumers' life where they must make the personal choice; to pick between what they perceive as the truth and what is a lie. can one product really be attributed to the embodiment of false though? i think so.

in a "cunning and deviously swift" counter-attack on michael moore's super 9/11 doc, the extremely evangelical republicanly-christian right has produced a beautiful tribute to the art of bull-cockery. it's fascinating how everything, when explained through the thick veil that is "god and the all-powerful," can be skewed and redirected towards the "truth," and bring us all into a greater understanding of life and the universe. real people are much less one-sided and balanced; eat some fucking granola!

this is not saying that religion or faith in god through christianity is anything but respectable as a belief system. this is to say that you talk about the supposed separation between church and state, and here comes along a glowing 70-minute documentary made to "really give it" to the michael moore's, smart-er americans, and the world of people out there with their eyes open wide to common knowns.

it's interesting in a scary-cause-these-fuckers-really-think-this-shit-up-and-spent-money-on-it-thinking-they'd-really-get-the-"truth"-across-to-the-masses sort of way. and in a sense, they might.

this is why it is okay to laugh at these people respectfully of course, and it is VERY IMPORTANT THAT YOU VOTE!!! if for anything, for god's sake. hahah ahahh, right?

bush is a liar and a moron, i mean look at him and his book-holding skills!! he's holding america upside-down, holy sand-in-my-speedos batman!!

(c) bush is a fucking moron and a liar 2004

i'm not even in the country, and i'm going crazy! i mean, if i can be living in bangkok thailand and claim my privilege to vote albeit through long-distance absentee, all of you still in america can get off your asses, realize that four more years of shenanigans like this is quite destructive to the world, walk to your voter hut with that small curtain, and claim your right to put bush out of the white house. ps-cheney is a hypocritical non-existant dead man.

it may be too late for the truth behind the lies, but it's never too late to make a change. california, you have one day left to register. do it.

---

" sweet mama's biscuits...i mean, c'mon now, sir "

---

i basically have a 24/7 super-job that requires me to be on the on-call whims of my boss-lady. she dictates and decrees the demands for her personal empire of which everyone working here must adhere to and follow accordingly.

i have absolutely no problem with that. in fact, i have an almost indescribable amount of willpower, patience, and a crazy-nuts stockpile full to the teeming brim of understanding.

but, when there comes a time and day where i might be able to go out, and it is soured by the lemon of normalcy. i have been planning to attend the 2nd world bangkok film festival, for quite some time now. i carefully planned out the shows i want to see, and made sure that there is no work for me to do on those dates/times.

i mean, it's in the ability to balance work-life and real life, that we as the working peoples of the world can claim sanity. it's not that much to ask i don't think. i think.

so last night i finish all of my translations, the voiceover work i had to do, the shoots i DV taped were labeled and set aside ready for the editor, and i got the OK from my producer that there would absolutely be no work today.

beaming with a gleaming glow, i tried to sleep, but couldn't much, due to the sheer excitement of the day's festivals to come. i awoke and had my backpack all ready to go. i made my way from the office all the way to the theatre(around an hour away). i made it to the ticket counter, after enjoying the 1900-1930's german film poster exhibition, and almost actually purchased a ticket; the words nearly escaped my mouth.

and then i got a call. (of all the crazy moments of interruption! jeebus i could bite my pillow just thinking about it!) i had to return to the office and prepare the shooting equipment, so that our production team could go shoot a lunch that our boss-lady was having. i almost imploded with disappointment, and my producer knew that i knew that he knew i was really really frustrated...but i made an agreement. if there was any work to do call me, and like a work-dog, i would come.

and of course i missed the program (THAT'S ONLY SHOWING ONCE!!!!!!!!!!). included in this 120 minute screening, a short film "the skywalk is gone," by the brilliantly frustrating magician, taiwan's tsai ming-liang. then to boot, a plethora of up-and-comer thai short pieces. it's just all so disappointing.

we went to the shoot, did the job, got the work done and squared away, and as i looked at my clock, the program had just started. it took us around one hour to do the shoot, and i DVed the crap outta those two menus; if anyone had anything to say about my style and technique, it would be only utter praise because i tell you, the shots were beautiful.

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ... and so on and so forth.

like fire in my body, i seethed with occupational anger, and then let it go. there will always be another opportunity i had to tell myself as i vented(and continue to vent). but this is the best most current example of why i need to not work here next year; i must be able to go to film festivals if i need to, to walk somewhere and buy fruit on the street if i need to, to shop for crap i don't need if i need to. in a sense a huge let-down, in another, a glorious push towards future independence.

homework for tonight:

think about something that you enjoy doing. write it down, tell a friend, e-mail a close co-worker. then, go do it. go out into the streets and go do it. let nothing stop you from doing what you want to do. not the police, not the lack of time, not red lights or busses that have stopped running cause it's midnight. let nothing stand in your way, and set yourself free.

---

" D.I.Y. from the earth to the sky "

---

introducing the amazing, spectacular, indescribably magnanimous, overwhelmingly radical, smashingly in style, unparalleled contraption known as:

"bay's super-fun crazy magical d.i.y. pinhole camera"

pinhole camera one-sheet

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(c) baystar_one...2347

build create distribute

---

" you're not special, but then again, maybe you are "

---

there are moments that are so beautiful, that i cannot help but respond with tears sometimes. the emotional chord has been struck, and i am powerless to its true note. there's something to be said about giving in, and being human.

i mean, do you realize that there are literally 2 chromosomes in the 2.5 billion or so genetic code sequences that separate us from chimpanzees? two!

take that little bit of information and claim it for your own benefit. exploit our unique ability to share and speak and communicate. chimpanzees don't even point to hint out a direction of interest. c'mon, take some pride in your pointer finger, 'cause it makes you special.

take a moment to realize that with all of the power you have in terms of cognitive thinking, the ability to audibly describe love, and convey, and share, you could say nothing but intelligent dazzling sentences all day? it's true. go ahead and give it a go, as there is nothing to lose.

outside your closed bubble of a life, there are an uncountable amount of miraculous things occurring, just outside your limited and localized frame of perspective. there are things that you don't understand and can still find very deeply moving and will render you in complete awe. let's go check em out.

go outside and take a moment please, for your own heart mind body and soul. it's time to be mature about this experience you're choosing to call your life, and begin to actually be interactive with it.

go.

go now, and show me what you've learned out there. i'll be there for you if you need me to.

---

" the trouble with culture-specific humor "

---

i mean it's funny, all the torrents of craigslist's "best-of" list. they are all sorts of particularly gold pieces of rant-type writing that has lifted me to a laughing fit.

some of my favorite headers being:

"Say hello to my middle finger."

"Pubes: Clip, Don't Shave."

and

"Diary of a Vasectomy."

i mean, they're just funny and very cleverly written. there are nuances of regret and embarrassment intermingled with solid observational details that just rock. in fact i am in my office, surrounded by all of my co-workers, and i cannot explain to them why some rant by a crazy woman is funny. or the dimwit who shaves his special area when drunk. i mean it's stories like this that belong on radio, because then everyone would be tuning in. well maybe not.

the great thing about reading other people's misfortune-turned-humorous-tales, is that you really get a workout. the stomach muscles ripple in glee as they tautly flex and release. your neck and upper back muscles really get a chance to expand and retract like nothing else, and you have this moment of sheer joy, that is unmatched, and utterly priceless.

but no one understand me and my funny. i tried to explain to them as best i could why the dude getting a vasectomy almost in front of a 19 year-old stranger could be really odd, but no. no one bought it and passed me off as a silly stranger, gawking in a private bubble of delight. which i was.

a lot of american humor is based on ranting, strange stories of childhood, observational insights on the inequalities in society, or humiliation with a stern handle on the particulars that make a certain story humorous, while most thai humor is based on put-downs, musical cues, and physical comedy. it's not that one is better, it's just dissimilar is all.

it's just nice to actually laugh, loud, and out loud for once. i think it's the first time i've really had a good laugh. and other than the obvious inconvenience i've placed on my hard-working fellow employees, they should understand that at least this way, i won't be uptight or cranky tomorrow.

yay funny funny fun fun.

if anyone wants a copy of some of these articles/posts, i can email em to yas : golden_buddha23@hotmail.com (but you have to email me first!)

bonus one!!!

---

" 2547 - slowly away post haste "

---

you left me to the wolves of regret,
which ravage my body
with a savage remorse.

what manner of beast
willingly does this
to another thus?

was it in the realization
that love proved
too much a burden to handle,

that you gracefully walked away;
untouched and slightly affected?

whichever the particular version of the tale,
however sweetly spoken the phrases,

i with closed eyes half-opened
maddeningly pursue
your ghost
in every following romance;

the heart left wounded
and dissatisfied
in your departure.

---

" i have never felt as dumb and naive as i do...right now "

---

if it sounds to good to be true, it most likely is.

dumb dumb dumb

dumb as a rock. thick as a brick. poo for brains.

a ton of tacknails have more collective brain matter than i do at this moment. i am a brontosaurus; a veritable amoeba-single celled and without a single solitary smart gene in my miniscule binary code structure.

a dunce, a clod, and dolt, a lame-brain, a simpleton, and so on and so forth into infinity and beyond.

remember this: when you are interested in doing business with unknowns, take care your fundage, and try not to be dumb. ill moves are an understatement next to the possibility of being scammed the crap out of. i would rather sink into the deep earth and reside in the wet soil before trying to do this again.

i am now very very embarrassed at myself and horribly flushed. what will happen next.

---

" super amazing happy fun time - a sarcastic interlude "

---

all it takes is a flip of the switch.

i look down at expanse of my hands, and remember how they used to hold her in close to my body; the comforted feeling a direct result of a lovers' osmosis. it's the sixth-sense sensation of being able to feel her smiling, that made it possible for me to go on each minute of each day.

all it takes is an extraordinary amount of self-reassurance. she is never coming back to be the same person. that's okay. the rules of life and love are extremely varied and collectively unwritten. who is to say that anything in this reality is fair. all i know is that some of the most complex situations come from the most simplistic decisions.

i try and remain realistic and calm, and optimistic. i try my best to be forward and creative and a good person. i try and think to myself that since i have now two hands free, i can create whatever reality i wish. but there's something about the waste of a talent it is to have hands such as mine, attached to my body, yet floating free through the world, un-matched and dangling.

there's a sad reality afloat when the current global sexual frequency is around 137 times a year, and you realize that you have not had any sexual experiences of note for the past four+ years, meaning a lack of 548 times you haven't gotten none, and someone else has gotten some (involved or devoid of a love). there's a sad reality sinking down, when your most memorable and meaningful love happened, and then let you go when you were a teenager, and you're now rapidly appoaching the quarter-century mark.

all it takes is some muthaf'ing strength. the strength to suck it up and stop being a self-destructive sad little pathetic depressed-on-the-inside-smiling-on-the-outside-thing. i look down at the rough emptiness of my open hands, and remember how they used to hold her in close to my body, and for me the memory of that is almost enough to not care anymore.

homework:

i may seem weak-willed and overly immature about all of this, but try and deconstruct your own demons and see if you are any better.

---

" papaya "

---

first, pick it up in your hands and feel for the weight of it. it should resemble the low heft of a hand-sized river stone. check the color of the skin. a particularly sweet papaya is most likely a faded mute jade green color mixed with lengthy strokes of red and sometimes orange and yellow at the head and tail.

next bring the fruit up to your nose and deeply inhale the scent. the best flavors of the papaya have a deep pungent sweetness resembling an exotic almost overripe tang with a very palatable aftertaste and cherry undertones. the flesh of the papaya ranges from a deep orange-red to a bright yellow. it is supple and when you eat it; it almost melts in your mouth, but does retain a fleshy firmness that feels great when biting into the slices.

a basic preparation for this fruit is to gently scrub the outer skin of the fruit, then take a large knife and slice it along the body in half. scoop out the seeds and white interior with a soup spoon, then either peel or slice the fruit into bite-sized pieces.

there is nothing like a freshly sliced cold-from-the-fridge (or iced fruit cart as the case may be in BKK) papaya. i easily consume a kilo and a half of this fruit every two days, and could eat more if it were not for the other exotic and delicious seasonal fruits available here in thailand. but i am sure you are going to visit me soon, so we can share some together.

---

" the death of superman "

---

christopher reeve has died. he was 52 years old.

you try and define hero, and you come up with those individuals who have done something to better humankind. it's not unknown that reeve was the most famous 20th century incarnation of an on-film version of superman, but when you think about what he did with his life after his paralyzing accident, you begin to see how the moniker became a title of respect for his efforts.

through christopher reeve's strength of character and personal perseverance, many will benefit from the advances he made in creating awareness of medical research pertaining to paralysis victims, and such possible practices such as stem cell research.

he is superman, and he proved it to everyone ten-fold. the world is one less hero today.

---

" remembering arizona "

---

there was this girl in high school i met during the summer or 96 i think. her name was treva jackson and she kicked ass. she moved to albany from arizona with her dad, and was the sort of girl that was just bout-it.

she had these great hands; the kind that just were smooth and powerful, the fingernails cut so close to the skin that there was not a trace of visible white, like she could grip the life out from your body. she painted her nails a crimson red, and they were never even, and always chipped by the next day. she punched my arm with a varying frequency and this made her instantly likeable.

everyone labeled her right away, as albany kids will often do to those not from out of our sometimes all-too-incestual lot of kids, but i thought she was suprisingly intuitive and had a bohemian sense of calm confidence with the ability to cross boundry lines, until no one could place who she was, or what she was about. this was her eloquent sense of immediate and lasting grace.

needless to say, i liked the cut of her jib, and the jib, it was beautiful.

i remember some of the best times i had with this girl, was during afterschool hours. i know this seems like it's going to get graphic, but that never happened. we would go to safeway's, the one at the old el cerrito plaza before they tore it down and replaced it with the middle american strip mall design with that clock that just seems so out of place, at steal bottles of jim bean, jose cuervo gold, and what ever else was readily pocketable, then scurry into the dark of the night and drink until we were drunk with the streets of albany. sometimes my fellow trumpeteer daniel waugh would come along for the walks, and we would all carouse around our square-mile burg, doing everything and nothing all at once. it was rad.

immature, dangerous, illegal, and self-reprehensible? sure, maybe. but i was 14, 15, or 16 at the time, i had no idea of those concepts. all i knew is that i would cut band practice, which for a time was held at night after school, and just revel in the nearly endless energy of this strange alluring arizoniac female. she was just so chock full of delight and has the most curious laugh. of course i leaned, but she obviously was looking for something else. so, i was just satisfied to be her friend.

in retrospect, there are times when you can actually project that the time you have with someone is going to end. i knew when i met her, that she would be gone soon enough; a girl like this doesn't just stick around because she's an apparition. a ghost of a person that i once held conversations with, living in the brimming cup of my memory. and that''s okay.

i am glad i met her, because she taught me that people don't always have to live by the rules and can still rock out/party-hearty without actually breaking the law...too much. if anything else, she showed me that there was definitely a box, and taught me how to step outside of it and see the world with open eyes.

---

" dial tone deaf "

---

i am horrible on the phone some of the time.

i tend to not talk when promted, fall asleep late at night snoring into the speaker; i blather on about nothing at all, usually pertaining to my inadequacies and self-reflective awkwardness.

the conversations i usually have on the phone are plump with questions and no answers, stutters and stammers, inexplicable moments of pause, and it's next to impossible for me not to be rude, so if you insist on actually talking to me for hours on end, i cannot in all honesty begin to hang up with you.

i mean, if you think speaking with me in english is bad, you should try me in thai. it's quite the exercise in patience, but i get through it fine...although you might not. this is also saying that you speak and understand thai.

but,

sometimes i have those phone calls where everything is just great. i start with a perfect salutation, get straight to the point of why i called, or if i was the receiver, i can effortlessly entertain you in whatever you may have to say, state, share, or ask. i almost get possessed with an innate ability to yak on and on. i know just when to say what, the tone to use to encourage further wondrous sentences, and just when to let someone go.

those conversations are simply amazing, and i wish i had more of them.

but on the whole, i'm usually really bad on the phone. you can ask becca silvers. she'll tell you the truth. i'm not saying don't call me, i'm just saying that i'm much better in person.

so take me out. i'll buy you some tea, and we can talk about anything you like, and i promise to be a good guest, filled with interest and reciprocity.

tonight's homework:

call someone you really want to talk to, a friend, co-worker, love interest/crush, friend, then invite them out to dinner, tea, coffee, or a walk. get to see how they react in a real-life situation. give them a chance and stop resenting that they cannot for the life of them sustain a telephonical conversation for more than a few minutes.

---

" in the still of the night "

---

at night i reclaim myself. it's in the private hours of my time here, where i try and re-evaluate all that i've done here, and also what i am going to do.

why is it so had to just be who you are sometimes? it really shouldn't be. but i do feel like i am a different person fighting for some sort of personality validation. all the times where i am misunderstood or in a sense confusing those around me, it's a wonder that i have the ability to communicate at all.

everyone here should be so lucky that i'm not some ranting lunatic; selfish and unabashedly rude. in sharp and gleaming contrast, rather i am a calm at times understanding individual that just wishes to be himself and do good work. that's basically it.

homework for tonight:

reclaim a little piece of yourself, and try and list the things you are good at, and want to accomplish. scribble something on a post-it, and stick it on whatever you tend to look at the most. this way you'll never misunderstand yourself, and can properly face the world outside.

---

" you're free: a short complete "

---

"it's going to be fine," you told her, your tongue sloshed around almost drowning you, and for a brief moment almost believing it yourself.

the words slipped out from inside your mouth like a quivering brilliant school of silver-hued fish. her tears welled up and over her eyelids; the cascade dappling her flower-patterned blouse in a dewed constellation.

across, in the far distance of the streets, there went the silent brushes of leaves as they scattered across the pavement; their journey ended by the passing of a taxi cab.

she looked down into your dark brown eyes and you held her tight across her midsection; your face was buried deep into her belly, and your hands were clamped together so fiercely, your knuckles turned paper-white.

she pried your fingers apart and crouched before you as you averted your eyes. "god, she smells like lilacs after a storm," you thought as you closed your eyes, trying to retain and remember every detail of what was the very last moment you would ever hold her like that.

she forced you to look into her dazzlingly calm forest-green eyes, which you did hesitantly, and then pulled you in close to her.

there are few times in the history of the known universe, that one human will ever kiss another human in such a manner that this girl kissed you; the sort that could stop time in a light-second, fuse ionic intergalactic storms together bringing about the next deep space rift causing uncountable baby galaxies to be born and thrive in the wake of creation, or shatter all the glass in every building in every city on the entire planet.

this one was one out of a recorded sixteen known occurrences and it happened to you.

inside, you died a sweet tiny death and it hurt.

you never thought that that would happen to you in a phone booth on the street, the one with the broken handset next to the midnight pizza parlor. you remained confused as she brushed your moppy hair out of your wet eyes.

she exerted a tiny huff of a halted breath, the kind one gives out when they're about to take a 50-foot dive into deep pools of clear blue water, and whispered into your flushed ears, "you're free." then got up and left you forever; her intoxicating floral scent fresh on your shaking hands.

---

" you wanna know what's weird? "

---

it's like this, i mean...if you think about it, when you buy something, all you're really doing is paying someone money to move something from one place to another.

think about how many things you've purchased over the years, and just moved it from the wherehouse, yard sale, shelving unit, store, or second-hand market, to your home... and it just sits there; paid for, and in your posession.

you're readily handing over money to a person or company or whatnot, to just change the location of something.

i mean, if the thing is not consumable or a tool in some sort of useful way; if it's not paint or art supplies, or some sort of visually interactive dancing...thing, you've just given away some money in trade for (hopefully) an aesthetically pleasing paperweight.

i mean...if you think about it, that's just weird.

---

" non-inadequacy "

---

sometimes you're heading towards an end with no particular destination. this moment parallels everything that your life is about.

you're running past the alleyways with the speed of a jackal. there is a scent on your mind that cannot help but send your blood into a boiling fervor.

your arms are pumping, legs feel like lead, and your thoughts are reeling.

this is it. the only time you have to succeed, so make this one count.

watch out for the bus; they really don't mind if they hit you.

there comes a time where you must ask yourself if you are ready to do this. these are the moments that will define your character.

go for the ghost.

---

" viva americana? "

---

there's nothing like the cultural disconnect of a group of thai people watching Jackass the movie. it just doesn't make sense here.

i feel pointed out.

---

" the box "

---

sometimes i get mad for no real apparent reason. like being in a box; tight fit, small air holes, like all of your muscles are taut and strained, begging for a good stretched release.

at those times, i am mean to people i don't expect to be mean to or at. i lash out and curse and express opinions that i might usually keep under a lock and key.

everything starts to get to you when you are in this state: sounds of people laughing, kids playing, zippers being zipped, happiness in others for some reason is a big irker; like you just want to punch a clown.

i think i'm having a miniscule meltdown from not being balanced in my life, and it feels like nothing and no one can help me right now. but it's only for right now, at this moment, today, here.

it's a very being-lost feeling.

do you ever feel this way?

---

" the sound of long-distance friendship "

---

you chase the promise of her glow says:
jigga jigga boo, jigga jigga boo
you chase the promise of her glow says:
rakka rakka rakka rakka
you chase the promise of her glow says:
shniggy shniggy shniggy shniggy
you chase the promise of her glow says:
rarrrrrrrrrrr
you chase the promise of her glow says:
blabba blabba blabba toooot tooooot
you chase the promise of her glow says:
pingggg!
you chase the promise of her glow says:
sssseeeeeoooorrreeeeeeeeoooowww
you chase the promise of her glow says:
biaow!
you chase the promise of her glow says:
meccachingggg!
you chase the promise of her glow says:
brooodooo broodooo
you chase the promise of her glow says:
planky plinky plunk
you chase the promise of her glow says:
faaabaawoooooshhhhhh
you chase the promise of her glow says:
joggity joggity boom slunk peeeeee
you chase the promise of her glow says:
gaaoooobbbaaaeeowwwww
you chase the promise of her glow says:
frreeeeeetjuumbaa
Brent Rosenbaum says:
whoa
Brent Rosenbaum says:
sup?
you chase the promise of her glow says:
nuthin
Brent Rosenbaum says:
uhm... how's life?
Brent Rosenbaum says:
cool
you chase the promise of her glow says:
just stretching my sound effects
Brent Rosenbaum says:
noice
you chase the promise of her glow says:
i think so

---

" just admit it "

---

you know you like her. all you have to say is "i like her," and i'll let you go. it takes a big person to step up and admit when you're lying. i mean, why else are we friends right?

i've already said that i like her. in fact, i can confidently say that i have liked her since i was around 10 years old. does that make me less of who i am, or more of what you might think of me?

i mean the things she does with that throat of hers is just plain fantastic is all. it's amazing, transcendent, and ethereal while being earthbound.

so she had a period where she was committable; i think that it's fine. i mean hey, we're only human.

don't feel like you're giving in. i bought the cd too. an eight-octave range can play for me any day.

here's a tissue.

now put that mariah carey cd back on before i go crazy .

---

" halloween won't be the same "

---

BTMBRKT: Hey man, do you know anything about hosting video on the web?
weederman23: nopers
weederman23: like a webcast?
BTMBRKT: oh well. I made video invite for my halloween party, but it doesn't work on any computer. I guess something wrong happened when I exported to quicktime
weederman23: man, you should ty and stream it from an ftp site or something
BTMBRKT: I could try that. However, I have no idea how to do it
weederman23: werd
weederman23: unfortunately i am not an online creation geek
weederman23: could ask my brother
weederman23: he's a nerd
weederman23: buuut, he's not online
weederman23: i think his email is-----------------
weederman23: lol
weederman23: lemme check real quick
weederman23: ...
weederman23: wait!
BTMBRKT: ok
weederman23: i want to go to a halloween party dammit!
weederman23: sigh*
BTMBRKT: I'll make a cardboard standup of you, so it's like you will be there
weederman23: word
weederman23: and make me a cut out audrey hepburn so i can have a friend
weederman23: oh, his email is ------_--------
weederman23: with an underscore
weederman23: inbetween
BTMBRKT: cool
weederman23: cool

---

" one step away from greatness "

---

do you ever have really vivid detailed dreams?

the kind where you learn something new, or upon doing something in the dream, come upon a revalation that changes your waking life forever?

i always have these dreams, and always say in my dream to myself that i will not forget this idea, theorum, moment ever; i will remember, and in remembering, better my life when i do wake up.

then i usually wake up...revel in the moment of clarity, then completely foget what the idea/thing i was supposed to remember so i could change my life was.

that is unless i write it down. which i must start to do more, or else i'll never get through this.

your mind is using your body as a muscle and flesh telephone...you gotta take the notes down when the call comes, or else you won't remember what to do.

homework tonight:

take a pencil and a pad of paper to your bedside, just in case you dream the way to get middle america to vote for not bush.

---

" things happen this way "

---

RICHARD AVEDON 1923 - 2004

in the light of another photographer fading, a rethinking of the practice, albeit in brief, is done out of respect.


all over the world, people are discovering the elation of photography and film.
these things, these boxes, these wonderous contraptions. cameras are not just metallic boxes that work in mechanical ways and the like. they are transporters of ideas; conduits of dreams that ignite the soul in a celluloid manifestation. as if you've never seen the world in any other way before.

as if you have realized that this is what the real world is. photography does not just capture more than a reflection of the real, it holds in it's hands a soul briefly, then transmorphs it into a stronger almost tangible apparation, released and free and beautiful.

since the invitation to digital, people have been ever-trying to compare the validity of the two against eachother. let's just say here and now that they are two different image-making mechanisms that function in similar ways. let's not fight about this anymore;

let's move beyond and past this obvious fact and make moving, lovely, documentary, textured, bare, sincere, wicked, bemused, languid, eroticized, jubilant, raw, honest photographs.

photography is not a lie, it is the word of truth.

homework: take a photo today, and create the change you wish to see.

---

" tooting your own horn "

---

i am starting to realize now, after around 9 years of writing, like actively writing, that i have found a voice in with which to speak. there is an importance in being able to own your talents, and praise your own successes, however personal.

i write pretty damn good, when the occasion permits me to be "that" for "that amount of time;" usually when i call upon myself to convey something very specific to myself or the non-reciprocating faceless masses.

it's interesting to finally own that part of myself, and be able to judge myself fairly, however seemingly objective or non-objective i may be. it's nice to have that be a strength and not a weakness.

homework for tonight:

write something good. it may be a story, or a poem, or a short paragraph, a meandering run-on sentence or a single perfect word. read and re-read it, then say it aloud, then burn it and release it into the collective molecules of the planet. then enjoy it for what it was and revel in the complete control over your own work. life is good.

---

" my heart then was not on the sleeve, it was off the cuff "

---

exposed and transparent,

i came upon

one who might.


bemused and dimmed,

vulnerable and upon a whim,


she walked smiling,

slowly and away,


as i sunk my head

low to the ground,

and turned off the light.

---