Precision Blogworks

A possible clip for the movie

2006-10-17T03:58:00.000-04:00

http://www.archive.org/movies/thumbnails.php?identifier=StopDriv1959

Surrealist Training Circus Clipage

2006-07-06T11:05:00.000-04:00

man Man

2006-05-21T16:42:00.000-04:00

Janus

2006-05-13T19:21:00.000-04:00

Beach Party Invasion

2006-05-13T00:25:00.000-04:00

How 'bout now?

2006-05-04T16:06:00.000-04:00

but does it work?

2006-05-04T14:45:00.000-04:00

perhaps

Man Man

2006-04-18T16:53:00.000-04:00

This is from a while ago. January, I think. Man Man played at Bard. Here is some shitty video I shot on my digital camera.

scary hungry walking catfish

2006-04-14T09:30:00.000-04:00

Scary Walking Eating Catfish

2006-04-13T15:35:00.000-04:00

Almighty Soldiers

2006-04-06T01:09:00.000-04:00

While searching the Internet Archive for "Slocum," I found a crazy newsreel apparently made by the gender warriors at Fort Slocum. The music was way too close to something Howey would play, so I switched the soundtrack with a track from the Kleptones. The Kleptones made their track by remixing a Flaming Lips song. So I could have called this "Flaming Soldiers", but that would have been in poor taste. I'm going to turn this in for class, after all.

By the way, another thing I found was an MP3 of a synthesized voice reading "Sailing Alone." Needless to say, it is awful and blasphemes.

Police State

2006-03-26T17:33:00.000-05:00

And here is the footage from later that night. Pretty hilarious.

Stinking Lizzy show.

2006-03-25T15:29:00.000-05:00

Here's a clip from a show last night. Stinking Lizaveta. Fucking Rock. So fucking rock that driving home from the show we got pulled over and molested by a cop. More proof that rock music is decaying the fabric of our society.

Zenball

2006-03-24T17:01:00.000-05:00

Class editing assignment. Buddhist meditation on the nature of existence. W/ cavemen and suicide. Text from Shunryu Suzuki's "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind"

Chickens

2006-03-24T16:50:00.000-05:00

Psychedelic, trancendental, silent opera. Starring the letter "H" as the messiah in a dystopic chicken universe. All footage from PETA videos and FCP text generation.

W Side Highway

2006-03-15T15:10:00.000-05:00

Here is some more stuff of a slapped-together nature. Soundtrack is Miles Davis mashed with flamenco. I shot all the footage in Manhattan.

Moptop Monroe

2006-02-22T16:42:00.000-05:00

And another little thing. This is from last year.

Editing Excercize

2006-02-20T15:12:00.000-05:00

Just a little thing I did.

Hoo, boy-howdy

2006-01-23T02:14:00.000-05:00

First night back at Bard. Alex’s rat, Nicodemus, died. Alex left him to somebody to take care of during break, but when break ended, the rat had run out of water and died. Most damn pitiful thing ever. Lets just hope Nico is in a better place, running on the heavenly wheel.

Break was fun, though I failed to climb a mountain. Got a little way up and realized that I had forgotten how fucking tall mountains were. My big regret and moment of shame. But for the rest of break I hardly got out of bed, so it was pretty good.

lovely.

Listening to: Silence is the Question – The Bad Plus.

Picket Lines and Picket Sign. Don't Punsh Me...

2005-12-16T00:17:00.000-05:00

Oh man. Waiting for news of the MTA strike. They were supposed to reach a deal by midnight. Which was about seven minutes ago. Gotham is about to shit itself.

This ain't no Disco

2005-12-16T00:02:00.000-05:00

You do that voodoo
that you do
so wellllllll

Been bored with bloggin’ And when the bloggin’ gets boring, man, its bad. Big bad.

And tonight is my second-to-last night in the ceeeety. Of course, if the MTA workers (That’s Metropolitan Transit Authority –Subway and Bus workers—for you not fluent in Manhattanese) don’t get their shit together in the next ten minutes, then I might be walking home to Alaska. (For those lucky enough not to be totally absorbed in the happenings on this little Island-at-the-center-of-the-Universe, the MTA workers are threatening to strike. Manhattan is in a horrible tizzy. All quite important).

There once was a union maid
who never was afraid.

Which side are you on, boys, which side are you on?

Anyway, perfect time for a wrap-up post. Tie this whole semester together an’ shit.
Unfortunately, this semester is quite resistant to any sort of tying up. Won’t be tied up, or down, or any which ways. Its slathered itself in Vaseline and is running around the apartment with a pair of pruning shears. But I’ll wrestle it to the floor yet.

That's My Baby

2005-11-20T23:41:00.000-05:00

Instant coffee and the occasional ciggarette. Simply: the way to go.

The Enemy Is About

2005-11-18T01:39:00.000-05:00

Maintain Radio Silence

Fare Thee Well, Marlon Brando, Fare Thee Well

2005-11-15T19:06:00.000-05:00

Haymaker

You are one of life’s enjoyers, determined to get the most you can out of your brief spell on Earth. Probably what first attracted you to atheism was the prospect of liberation from the Ten Commandments, few of which are compatible with a life of pleasure. You play hard and work quite hard, have a strong sense of loyalty and a relaxed but consistent approach to your philosophy.

You can’t see the point of abstract principles and probably wouldn’t lay down your life for a concept though you might for a friend. Something of a champagne humanist, you admire George Bernard Shaw for his cheerful agnosticism and pursuit of sensual rewards and your Hollywood hero is Marlon Brando, who was beautiful, irascible and aimed for goodness in his own tortured way.

Sometimes you might be tempted to allow your own pleasures to take precedence over your ethics. But everyone is striving for that elusive balance between the good and the happy life. You’d probably open another bottle and say there’s no contest.

What kind of humanist are you? Click here to find out.

Lucky Post 13

2005-11-14T22:30:00.000-05:00

This is a thing that happened to me about a week ago. I’ve been mulling it over for a while and trying to wrap my mind around it. But it doesn’t need any mulling over.

In New York, panhandlers are always coming up to you. Every walk to the subway, chances are someone will ask you for money. You become conditioned to ignoring it. Perfect the five-yard stare and just walk on by. New Yorkers become connoisseurs of beggars, used to every come-on, all the scams. One game to play at the bar is comparing the most miserable sob stories you’ve heard.

I’m smoking a cig, and I can tell that this guy coming up to me is going to ask me for money. I can tell by the look in his eye –he’s kind of sizing me up, but also got his best smile going. He’s black and dressed pretty shabby. Starts off with the soft sell.

“Hey man, got another cigarette?”

Of course I do. Hand it to him. He lights it. Then he continues with the sell.

“Man, I can tell you raised good.”

Yeah, he’s pro. Knows the game.

“Yeah, I can tell you’re kind. Not a prick like those other guys who just ignore a black man asking them for shit.”

It kinda goes on like this. I make brief replies. “Yeah. Huh. Aw.” After all, he’s not really looking for conversation.

He moves into phase two, the sob story.

“I just got out of prison. I was not a good person. I mugged people, beat them up. But I got stabbed in prison. Now, I’m trying to turn my life around.”

Here, he takes out his prison ID and shows it to me.

“But shit. The shelter I’m staying at costs $30 a night. And the white bitch who runs it closes the doors at 10:00. So I got to catch a subway up there right now. Man, I’ve got a buck fifty.”
“I ain’t asking for thirty bucks. Whatever you got is good. Just like, ten bucks.”

Holy shit, this guy is balsy.

I ended up giving him a buck, which I’m sure is a lot more than he usually gets, but he acted offended as he took it.

Anyway, classic technique, and it worked perfectly on me, the liberal sucker that he knew I was from the beginning.

Listening to: The Pogues -- Sally MacLennane