those times.

Sometimes confusion arises when we think we need to follow a script, a plan set fourth, mostly discovered by piecing together other paths set fourth in our peripheries.  

Follow the leader.  See, this is how it was done before.  This is how (insert name) did it.

But, you are clearly you, and not that other (BLANK ) person.  So, trust yourself, and trust IN yourself.  Lead.  It's scary.  But, aren't we all scared anyways?  

Following the script might be good when you're doing a studio picture and the committee is looking over your shoulder, but in life, a script is nothing but fantasy plots.  Or worse, an excuse to do nothing.

Summer of 08 - a throwback to a simpler mindframe

Adding to the universal catalogue of #tbt for the first time, I thought it a great opportunity to join in and contribute to the grand fall of civilization. 

Sometime in 2007 was my first time forming a band with more than one person in it.  And in the summer of '08, it was the first time I wrote songs with lyrics and the first time I tried to produce an album on my own.  My bandmate Art came aboard as well to try his hands behind the instruments as well.  And this was all first times for me because music is not my first endeavor.

I had co-produced my first instrumental Shanks and the Dreamers album (A DAY LATE; INSTRUMENTALS FOR ILLEGAL ALIENS) a year before, but this was different.  This one had vocals, this one had songs.

It was a crazy time, and a crazy pursuit, since I didn't know much about the recording and post process (A DAY LATE was mostly recorded live with one takes).  I was also in grad school, doing film/video projects and maintaining a job that I might discuss at a later date. But, I went in and got down with recording anyways.  And I'll admit it, the overall mix is not very good.  But, that's with that hindsight knowledge.  That’s that aftermath bullshit.  

When we wrapped the mix, my bandmate Art traveled to NY to Masterdisk to get it mastered since my schedule wouldn't allow me.  And at the legendary Masterdisk no less, home of some of the best mastering engineers in the world.  I can only imagine their auditory horror at this lo-fi, hodgepodge, too often mono mixed, crazy bedroom album.  But, shit, they took the money.  And, it ended up sounding mostly better. And, I still love some tracks on that record.  

If I had waited to learn everything, I would never attempt to take it on with reckless abandon.  Once you think you've learned enough, the world starts to simultaneously slow down and speed up in the most inopportune ways.  You become overly cautious.  Don't do that to yourself.  Just get in, and do it.  Regret it later.  Learn from it.  And, take that leap again.  You'll never learn enough.  That's the idea, the beauty of creative pursuits.  

Once you become a PRO, you're an industry.  You appease the mass because you expect that paycheck, but you're no longer relevant in the absolute sense.  You're the status quo.  In the hip hop metaphor, you’re basically rhyming about mad money in every verse because that’s your only reference point.  The industry.  So, have fun in your obscurity.  It's the greatest time you have to take on the world. 

This was the video for HUSH from the SHANKS AND THE DREAMERS album MY DARLING DIA.  This was one of the better produced tracks.  Well, at least the stereo image is fuller.  It features my good friend Stephanie Lambert, was produced by myself and Art Toussi, and I shot it mostly in my bathroom.

​If your still interested, these are some of my favorite tracks from that album; EXTRAORDINARY MACHINES, HUSH, CAMEL CRUSADER, 777, CHARLIE GET A JOB, WHITEHOUSE ( trivia, the instrumental for Whitehouse was used in Rick Curnutt's fantastic film, Free Lunch).

Relevancy When Clocks Go Wild

The question of relevancy is always an important one when the arts, cinema or any cultural element is discussed, thought about, and perused towards some end.

We can always put our heads down and slog through the terrain, to do what we love without ever needing to be self aware of our place, or our goals, both collectively and individually.  But, that's a simple pursuit.  Valid as any, but, shallow in scope. 

Instead, and often, we think deep and long about our place in the world.  And, as the world changes in rapid succession, in a culture that Alan Moore deemed "The Culture of Steam", when discussing the immediate future, certain trends emerge.  And to clarify, I believe Moore was discussing the ungraspable future culture, as predetermined by technology and its interplay with our old world evolution.

This is the time of the instant update.  And, you can look no further than the emerging talent of today to really understand what this means.  In music, the perpetual mixtape was the start, but the further you push that along, the more you get to the current state.  Just like instagram, music has also morphed into the weekly song/video style most prominent in hip hop.  I like to use hip-hop as the example, because it's elements are very immediate.  It's production, usually fast, and wordplay doesn't necessarily need to be written.   

Acts like Lil B and Riff Raff elude to a changing landscape where they are always on the cycle of relevance, because, they mimic the culture of the internet itself.  They are both shrewd, entertaining and showman promoters.  They are a new species of music artist.  Self aware, skilled, entrepreneurial, shameless and momentum oriented.  And regardless of what you think of them, they continue turning critics into fans, by sheer willingness to be out there, to take the brunt of "haters".  

In an alternative way, if Riff Raff put out a few videos, and waited for something to happen, nothing ever would.  This is a critical difference between the old and the new.  The closest example in the film world would be someone like Joe Swanberg.  But perhaps, there are countless other "video" artist who are better examples whom I just don't know.  Tim and Eric immediately came to mind as the television version, but the metaphor is not as clear.  Adult Swim nurtures these changes, and was willing to take those risks years ago.  In the world of books/blogging, look no further then Seth Godin.

In a disposable age, perfectionism isn’t valued because we just don’t have time for it.  By the time it’s perfect, the world moved 10 steps ahead.  I know, your ol school idealism doesn’t want to deal with it.  Whatever. 

The question is, in this new landscape, what if you turned it off.  What if your video didn't come out on that Wednesday, or that you stopped your twitter'ing and vine'ing and facebook.  What if you get sick?  What if you don’t make three films a year?  And what if, you weren’t birthed into a career before this all happened?  You know, in the old timey days (pre 2005) when things work different? 

The constant hustle and digital sharecropping reminds me of Jaron Lanier's critique of the internet and the middle class.  You can hustle on that street corner all you want, but, when you get sick, well, you're fucked.  But, at least you’re relevant.   :) (smiley face)

The Limits of Control

We set ourselves up to impossibilities.  Earlier this year, I decided to update this journal everyday.  This is a simple task of discipline.  And although I've said this in the past, I never committed to it until the last few months.

But...but, I fell off the wagon, as per course.  With all that pent up will power and positive 80's self talk shit, I failed at keeping my word.  

But...but why?  The simple answer is that it was never THE PRIORITY.  As soon as I was forced on some writing deadline for bigger projects (ie: feature film) and an editing responsibility that was exciting (YOUNG BUCK - The Video), I no longer felt the obligation to hold myself accountable.  Same goes for my beard, haircuts, and keeping mad muscles.  

The bigger forces overtook the smaller.  This is weak sauce 101.  I could have done both and all.  But, I choose the less stressful route.  The route that left me some metaphorical jerk-off downtime.  

And, for my own soul, that works better.  Because sometimes a motherfucker just has to sit down in front of the TV, regardless of the pretentious post-academics or over achieving ass-hats that add shame to the game.  

Do what works.  As long as you work.  Your flow triumphs checklists and made up discipline.  But try not to become a weed smoking, video game choking, fast food hoarding, eternal neophyte.  And, even if you do, make sure you go all out, with breaks in-between.  Also, call your mother once a week.     ​

​a goddamn CAT sleeping on a CAR.  Get it?

Meta-Burban

I've been in the Judge Dredd editing booth trying to wrap a cut of something, before I have to turn it in to someone else, who has to do something to it, whom then has to pass it on.  

And beside writing a million fucking death defying scripts, I just haven't had time to be consistent with updates.

So, with that said, here is a piece I did a million years ago. It's sell able.

Goons forever,
am

pop + trash + culture + memories.

Low culture, sometimes deemed "trash culture" is where we are.  Escapism, transfusion plus fetishizing  is the state. Pop lives in this space mostly, but, it's always had the ability to move between cultural hierarchies.  At present, it loves trash, the audience devours it, and the appetite grows because priorities have changed. 

But, can we truly call anything pop anymore?  Exceptions exist, but when history is perpetually the present, it's difficult to have a true pop culture.  Pop relies on memories.  It happens, and it was that thing, but then it goes away.  It was silly, and we loved the novelty of it.    

However,  thing's don't really go away anymore, they get continued, rebooted, or dressed in a new shiny shell.  And we don't have the options to forget.  We only have options to filter.  And boy oh boy, that net is polluted.  

ignore.

the best policy for productivity is ignoring.  tuning out.  while a few might make some short waves by pounding on that online ruckus,  the overall effect is a net-loss.   i can't quantify it.  nor, do i want to.  but, in that marathon, your just not doing the work.

so, a little honesty goes a long way.  how bout a little self reflection to find the truth.  do your morning online rituals help.  how bout those constant novelty searching intuitions that arise from boredom.  

the best question might be, why are you so bored in the first place?  

​ps:  i didn't capitalize anything.  that is mad artsy.

The Argo Prequel as experiment, not directed by Ben Affleck

I released KHOOBI in 2011 as my only effort under a Creative Commons banner (this is a whole other discussion).  It is a fiction.  Watch it because it was formed by humans.  Also, to ease that confirmation bias about THOSE people, because, not everybody are THOSE people.  

Full disclosure, I thought Benny Affleck did well with Argo.  Aside from what my mother called, “continuous long face”, his directing was wicked shhmmarttt.  The film was everything you hope for from Hollywood these days, and it delivered.  It was “cute”, but in the best and sincere usage of the word.  

I get certain criticisms from people about the film not being “Oscar Caliber”, although I disagree.   Have we so soon forgotten the Oscar selections?  

Our collective expectations of Hollywood are relatively low, and it’s hard to find fault with a completely competent film.  Calling the film, this year’s CRASH, is uninformed and emotional.  But, then again, that's not a fair assessment of CRASH either.  

Of course, in the the cinephile world, it’s hard to compete with Michael Haneke.  The sheer breadth of emotionality, structure, and attention to form in Amour is breathtaking.  And, Lincoln, although a talk fest, is a damn good film.    

In the end though, who cares?  Really.  Are we hung up on a contest of subjectivity?  Only time dictates greatness.  That’s societies true measure.  And, unfortunately, that takes time.  

the book versus the other plastics.

The book is old analog.  It's technology is without a doubt, one of the most important items in the human catalog.  

Books are the enablers.  The perfect informational passing device.

Almost always a perfect gift.

Books are not CD's.  Books are not DVD's.  Although, people love to include them in there analogies of the death of physical media.  

However, those forms were never necessary to the origins of their own particular media. Cinema needs other devices for transmission.  Music the same.  These forms always change. In many ways, and even with hard earned consumer consistency, they are not standalone.  How many music delivery systems have come and gone?  

The physicality of a book includes all of it.  The written word was always meant to be passed along, in it's final form.  it duplication is always scaleable.  Not from the beginning of course, but still, it could have been duplicated somehow, with errors, money and hard work.

And even though, the scalability of music and cinema can lend itself to other product forms, they will never be perfect.  Because its delivery origins are not seamless.  Music has always been a live format.  Cinema, was birthed in exhibition.  One ticket, one play.  No pause, reverse, repeat.

The book, in it's final physicality is the delivery.  It's a perfect system.  Yes, it can have an uglier digital counterpart, but it's essence is it's form.  And, only for environmental reasons would it ever go away.  

But, that CD you're holding, or that Criterion DVD you just bought, or that new XBOX game you stole, well, that's not going to be around.  So, build your collections now you geeks and nerds.  Show them off to your kids, who will marvel at that lo-fucking fidelity that you and I loved so much.

fear is....

that voice.  you’ve heard it.  no.  really?  it says things very quietly at first.

you might be riding a high, so, it’s hard to tell.  maybe it works too quick?

sit down, it might say.  sip on this water, you’re thirsty.  but, you think to yourself, “no, I’m absolutely not thirsty”.

the feeling starts deep.  in a cavity somewhere inside, a hole, straight down, all the way down, to China maybe.

you can almost reach down and touch it.  it loves amplification.  the echo last’s for hours, days and sometimes years.

and as it works itself up from the abyss, it reigns it's control.  spitting fire, turning the flesh and bone into the lizard it loves.

you’ve become primordial, etched in scales.

tongue and teeth, tail and eyes.  earth is lost, and so is sight.  

lizard brain = yolo

the games of chance.

​the game of chance.

clap on, clap off.

Disconnecting from the constant noise of popular existence is quite an undertaking these days.  When we unplug, the first reaction is an unnerving sort of anxiety.  Online is safe now, the status quo.

When you disconnect, you deal with the world, as real and mortal as it is.  People die in the real world.  People lose homes, and children and food, and rights.  But, our history was never virtual, and we got pretty good at it.

We are constantly watching TV now.  But, the platform has changed.  It’s no longer called TV.  And granted, we are in control of this new TV.  We pick the channels.   

However, most do not realize what this new freedom means.  And why their children are glued to phones, like the last generation was to television.  

More is not better.  Better is better. Better information, better entertainment, better knowledge and better systems.  As the saying goes, "Garbage in, garbage out."  

Often, when left to our own devices, we make the wrong choices.  Evolution is a son of a bitch.  And so is ignorance.

A+

A little closer.  A step in a direction.  A stumble.  A reaction.  A decision.  An attempt.​

a thank you to Roger Ebert.

I'm pretty sure everybody that has had, at the very least, a sliver of interest in the movies and the language of cinema has a story to share about Roger Ebert.  

Whether it was about influence, or insight, or passion, or disagreement, Roger Ebert was big time.  

He loved movies so much, that it's inconceivable to think of any figure in these modern times, to exhibit the same anti-cynicism and commitment to cinema.  Almost all of us are in a sort of ambivalent love affair with movies these days.  For all the never ending enthusiasm and commitment to reach higher, there is always the death knell, the Holy Motors sign off.  Which was quite convincing by the way (btw ya’lls).

Somehow, both views fit.  But, it is fitting and sad, that Ebert, along with the rest of the classicist have now passed.  These were figures of what can be now called, "the good old days".  And we can cherish that, because its history has been written.  A place exists for the past.  It has happened, and it was witnessed.  The future however, is always a place of uncertainty.  Anxiety is birthed from the unknown.  And humans, given a dose of evolutionary psychology, always feel mixed about that which cannot be controlled.

The beauty of Ebert was that the man always committed to passionate thinking.  He was not afraid.  Nor was he afraid to change his mind.  

At his older age, he became a king of new media. With twitter, he could troll with the best of them.  His stance against video games as art was legendary.  Here was a man, not afraid of the consequences of thought, nor its expression.  Nor was he scared of being bullied for thinking.

Bombarded by children angered by an opinion, he pressed forward with what I can only assume was a grin.  Remember is beef with Vincent Gallo.  The man didn't back down from insults.  A classic game of "yo momma".  And he did this with a smile.  That's respectable. That’s heart.  

And no other critic could circumnavigate the mainstream all the while, championing the independent quite like Ebert. Who will ever have that leverage?  Who will ever care enough?

What a sincere love of something.  It was poetic to witness.  RIP Roger Ebert and thank you.  My mother thanks you.  She loved you.  

See you at the movies; home theater actually, because we all know that's where this is all leading, right?

facebook mortality.

I detached myself from the plug of social media’s major milestone intuition a few days ago.  My feelings are still intact.  I assume they will be.  I was never that active on Mark's (enter the classic ironic name droppin' styles)  site anyways.

These tools of interaction are very psychological in nature.  Their success directly calls to mind Pavlov and his dogs, salivating for A LIKE.  

Facebook obliterates the past, and makes the future impossible.  It sticks you in the eternal now.  Now and forever.  Which, without sounding pedantic, is different than the Eastern philosophical version of THE NOW.

The paradox being is that if your time is always spent, monkey down on the phone, you are the antithesis of NOW in one sense, but stuck in NOWness, till infinity in the dull, uninspired, technosapien sense.

I'm glad I've detached.  I like to remember high school as it was, and not some fatter, older, and eternal version of it. Plus, I don't give a fuck about your kids. (not true, I do.  they are all, mostly, pretty cute)