I have something of an affliction: I am both an artist and a craftsman, which presents some interesting challenges. For one thing, I keep coming up with projects for builds I could do; on the other, I don't necessarily know how I'll do it.
Its a problem compounded by my data hoarding tendencies, so its very possible that, somewhere, I have the instructions for doing these particular projects, if I can only remember where the damned thing is.
Did I mention that I am not the most organized person (few... collectors are) and given the fairly wide fields of interest and a curious mind, I am somewhat subject to what could be called procrastination?
Actually, the problem is prioritizing. Many of the projects are not necessarily that long to implement, its that I always com up with different thing that should/could be done RIGHT NOW that getting anything started is a project unto itself... and the vicious circle completes its round.
Rambling intro, but now, the story. About twelve years ago (roughly) I decided that I could get a little more serious about making music and, to that end, I should get some sort of instruments. Also, some band mates. Getting people to join a band isn't that hard (good/reliable is an entirely different deal), but getting instruments is a bigger bitch when you are on minimum wage. SO you start scrounging. One of my splurges at the time was a good old Korg Poly 800, a synth that I like a lot, but which pretty much gave up working, probably after falling on the floor too many times. The other "find" was an electric guitar I found in a thrift store for $20.
At the time, I was flabbergasted, I mean how often do you find electric guitars (or any non-toy instruments) for that price, ever? It was a good deal I though. But there was a pretty good reason why it was there, at that price. The Ibanez (my first electric!) had a split neck, so not all that much in demand. I cant say that the whammy bar was any better, but there's ways around that.
So the neck got replaced (not by a proper replacement, just one that fitted) and we used it as badly as we could. Eventually I got my hands on several other guitars and the Ibanez was put away and nearly forgotten. Out of sigh, out of mind, right?
More or less. It has remained on the back burner, as a source for whatever parts that I could use for another project (I never did get around to build the ATG) but as a hoarder... er collector, I have more ideas than results, so it mostly ends up as boxes of parts, never getting used.
On my way back from work one day, I picked up a seemingly fine Gibson Epiphone Flying V body casually dumped into the trash. I picked it up, with the idea that I'd rebuild that bad boy at some point using, why not, the parts of the pretty listless Ibanez! The idea was there, and both relics laid buried in the closet.
The idea was still simmering on the back burner; anyone who knows me is aware of my leaning towards slow foods and long simmering, and that also applies to some of my less edible projects. The Flying V will get rebuilt, a crazy Frankenstein of a beast, but there's not much of the Ibanez that I'll salvage out of it.
See, it turns out that the Ibanez is probably the crappiest guitar I have. Even the entry level no-name strings I have have better electronics and sound that that sad, sad beast. I might salvage the pickups, but that's pretty much it.
As for the V, I seem to have to go and buy the parts, bit by bit, that I'll need. It'll still be a monster, it might well be not-so playable, but it'll be a monstrous beauty. If I have to eat less snacks, I will build it, and it'll be a unique baby indeed.
Don't mess with the man who collects old junk; even he doesn't what what he'll hit you with!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Movie Review: Valhalla Rising
How often have you picked up a movie based on the cover, or seen a movie based on the poser, only to be struck with a case of "what the fuck was that" as the credits roll? Sure some of those movies turn out to be brilliant mindfucks, and some turn out to be at the very least entertaining, but many of them just turn out to be very sour brews indeed. This movie certainly belongs to the second category.
I mean, lets start with the above, it seems pretty gritty to me (especially if its been placed right next to Centurion). This looks like a movie that will make a Saturday night of light and bloody viewing, right?
And the synopsis: "1000 AD, for years, One Eye, a mute warrior of supernatural strength, has been held prisoner by the Norse chieftain Barde. Aided by Are, a boy slave, One Eye slays his captor and together he and Are escape, beginning a journey into the heart of darkness. On their flight, One Eye and Are board a Viking vessel, but the ship is soon engulfed by an endless fog that clears only as the crew sights an unknown land. As the new world reveals its secrets and the Vikings confront their terrible and bloody fate, One Eye discovers his true self"
Vikings, slavery, escapes, new world, terrible and bloody fate... sounds like proper Saturday night entertainment, no?
Well, no, not entertaining, unless that the first movie that comes to mind if I say "Western" is Dead Man. Dont get me wrong, Jim Jarmusch did a beautiful job with that film, but lets be honest and admit that John Wayne, Sergio Leone and even Young Guns came way ahead on the list.
This is the kind of movie only a hipster or art house fanatic would love: its slow, the dialogues are "deep" and the action is so sparse that someone picking his nose looks like ultraviolence. But seriously, the acting is terrible, the plotting non-existent; its a waste of celluloid. This is the kind of movie a writer would put out if he thought himself too smart for more regular fare; in fact this is exactly what happened, making a "different spin" kind of junk heap, full of pointless shots and silent scenes.
That this movie get compared to Herzog's Aguirre, The Wrath Of God, or to Alexandro Jodorowsky just shows how much he'd want to be cool, or talented. At best this might have made a decent short film, a good twenty-thirty minutes of existential gore, but no, its just drawn out boredom. You keep expecting that at some point something will happen, but at best somebody does something hare brained and gets killed. In the reviews I've browsed there's the constant mention of the brutality and violence in the film; its the most interesting parts of the movie, its would have benefited from quite a bit more of it. It makes the whole thing a lot less tedious.
Another recurring theme is how you shouldn't expect video game action, and that this is a more intelligent sort of movie... no, its just a very boring, ill crafted, empty take on spiritual journey. Not surprisingly, this movie seems backed up by the IFC, a channel I stopped watching a few years back when they kept playing incredibly pretentious films that bored me to tears. This is not a smart spiritual journey into the heart of the human soul, its ninety-three minutes of nothingness, sprinkled with some pseudo-existential monologue (not really any dialogue to speak of), but mostly long shots of barren terrain, most likely because it cost nothing and required no technical skills to achieve.
If that movie has a positive, then it'd be the soundtrack. Very atmospheric, alien, brooding, this said more than any character did at any time in his sad flick. Unfortunately, its not good enough to waste your time with this piece of junk, watch Dead Man, or any other Jim Jarmusch film instead. See, the sad thing is that Dead Man, the film that Refn is ripping off in this sad piece, is far superior, because the script, the acting, the directing, everything is better really, and it was done on nearly the same budget.
Done waste your time with this film, its really a bad marketing job that will put you to sleep.
I mean, lets start with the above, it seems pretty gritty to me (especially if its been placed right next to Centurion). This looks like a movie that will make a Saturday night of light and bloody viewing, right?
And the synopsis: "1000 AD, for years, One Eye, a mute warrior of supernatural strength, has been held prisoner by the Norse chieftain Barde. Aided by Are, a boy slave, One Eye slays his captor and together he and Are escape, beginning a journey into the heart of darkness. On their flight, One Eye and Are board a Viking vessel, but the ship is soon engulfed by an endless fog that clears only as the crew sights an unknown land. As the new world reveals its secrets and the Vikings confront their terrible and bloody fate, One Eye discovers his true self"
Vikings, slavery, escapes, new world, terrible and bloody fate... sounds like proper Saturday night entertainment, no?
Well, no, not entertaining, unless that the first movie that comes to mind if I say "Western" is Dead Man. Dont get me wrong, Jim Jarmusch did a beautiful job with that film, but lets be honest and admit that John Wayne, Sergio Leone and even Young Guns came way ahead on the list.
This is the kind of movie only a hipster or art house fanatic would love: its slow, the dialogues are "deep" and the action is so sparse that someone picking his nose looks like ultraviolence. But seriously, the acting is terrible, the plotting non-existent; its a waste of celluloid. This is the kind of movie a writer would put out if he thought himself too smart for more regular fare; in fact this is exactly what happened, making a "different spin" kind of junk heap, full of pointless shots and silent scenes.
That this movie get compared to Herzog's Aguirre, The Wrath Of God, or to Alexandro Jodorowsky just shows how much he'd want to be cool, or talented. At best this might have made a decent short film, a good twenty-thirty minutes of existential gore, but no, its just drawn out boredom. You keep expecting that at some point something will happen, but at best somebody does something hare brained and gets killed. In the reviews I've browsed there's the constant mention of the brutality and violence in the film; its the most interesting parts of the movie, its would have benefited from quite a bit more of it. It makes the whole thing a lot less tedious.
Another recurring theme is how you shouldn't expect video game action, and that this is a more intelligent sort of movie... no, its just a very boring, ill crafted, empty take on spiritual journey. Not surprisingly, this movie seems backed up by the IFC, a channel I stopped watching a few years back when they kept playing incredibly pretentious films that bored me to tears. This is not a smart spiritual journey into the heart of the human soul, its ninety-three minutes of nothingness, sprinkled with some pseudo-existential monologue (not really any dialogue to speak of), but mostly long shots of barren terrain, most likely because it cost nothing and required no technical skills to achieve.
If that movie has a positive, then it'd be the soundtrack. Very atmospheric, alien, brooding, this said more than any character did at any time in his sad flick. Unfortunately, its not good enough to waste your time with this piece of junk, watch Dead Man, or any other Jim Jarmusch film instead. See, the sad thing is that Dead Man, the film that Refn is ripping off in this sad piece, is far superior, because the script, the acting, the directing, everything is better really, and it was done on nearly the same budget.
Done waste your time with this film, its really a bad marketing job that will put you to sleep.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Prove your worth
With new technologies and the intertubes, everybody and their grandma seems to think that they can be stars by grabbing a cellphone and shooting their antics and putting it out on Youtube. Sure, you'll get a chance to get stranger's responses, and with a bit of luck, you might go viral, at which point you'll have stopped being relevant.
Now if you want to know the gritty behind the scenes of film making, check out the blog for Conversion, the film that Kate MacDonald wrote (and acted in!) and Dominic Marceau directed... and financed out of their own damn pocket. It turns out that it takes more that a few fancy megapixels and some snazzy Apple app to make a movie a reality.
So buckle up and read it, ya crazy kids!
Now if you want to know the gritty behind the scenes of film making, check out the blog for Conversion, the film that Kate MacDonald wrote (and acted in!) and Dominic Marceau directed... and financed out of their own damn pocket. It turns out that it takes more that a few fancy megapixels and some snazzy Apple app to make a movie a reality.
 |
| This is not about Google Maps |
So buckle up and read it, ya crazy kids!
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
If the water's frothing, its probably rapids
I haven't really ever had a smooth sailing life. There's always all sorts of things in your way, some intentional, others circumstantial, that pose a hazard to the path of your lifeboat, as it were.
Now enough with the cute imagery and on with the concrete.
Since my summer vacation, there's been all sorts of things happening: not getting paid, losing jobs, waiting for the powers that be to help, nasty neighborhoods, asswad neighbors, rough financial situations, medical conditions, deaths, adoptions, and the wonderful lifestyle experiment called "getting by."
I'm not so much talking about excuses for things not getting done, but the consequences of making choices. If I make the choice of improving my existence, then its likely that something's gonna give somewhere. Some of those choice may well impact others, some very close indeed, in a negative way, for a variety of reasons. We all have our own weight to bear.
After some due considerations, we've decided that we were adopting a rescue cat, which turned out to be two, which also turned out to be adults, because fuck babies. Now, due to our mindset, we went for "trouble cases", specifically we adopted a pair that came from a hoarder ceisure. Cats in who come from that sorts of environments have certain issues and may be somewhat problematic on the socialization side of things.
And thus our first weekend with the new tenants began. The girl is a sweetheart, a cute little thing barely over four pounds ( and yet she's the eldest of our felines) with a respiratory problem that will stay with her all of her life. The boy, while somewhat skinny for a Persian, is of much stronger built and only recently spayed, which is problematic when introduced into an existing dynamic of two large males.
Fur flew. The Maine Coon, is not happy about the new pensioners and is quite vocal about his distaste. He also refuses to deal with them at this point, requiring a certain level of supervision and isolation. This situation, combined with some fairly tight financial woes prevents us from having something of a social life for a while. My return to customer service, putting me in constant contact with the general public all day does not encourage me to interact even more when I'm off work, and my partner's recent unemployment has the added benefit of making a tight financial regimen necessary.
To our friend's woe.
I haven't had to sail such precarious water for so long, it takes some getting used to, and with any luck a few good nights of sleep. It does allow us to catch up a little with our mounting pile of movies that were acquired but not yet previewed.
There is a price for everything, and responsibility requires some sacrifices. I can only count myself lucky that we have cats and not children; we'll never have to deal with having to drive them to soccer practice.
Now enough with the cute imagery and on with the concrete.
Since my summer vacation, there's been all sorts of things happening: not getting paid, losing jobs, waiting for the powers that be to help, nasty neighborhoods, asswad neighbors, rough financial situations, medical conditions, deaths, adoptions, and the wonderful lifestyle experiment called "getting by."
I'm not so much talking about excuses for things not getting done, but the consequences of making choices. If I make the choice of improving my existence, then its likely that something's gonna give somewhere. Some of those choice may well impact others, some very close indeed, in a negative way, for a variety of reasons. We all have our own weight to bear.
After some due considerations, we've decided that we were adopting a rescue cat, which turned out to be two, which also turned out to be adults, because fuck babies. Now, due to our mindset, we went for "trouble cases", specifically we adopted a pair that came from a hoarder ceisure. Cats in who come from that sorts of environments have certain issues and may be somewhat problematic on the socialization side of things.
And thus our first weekend with the new tenants began. The girl is a sweetheart, a cute little thing barely over four pounds ( and yet she's the eldest of our felines) with a respiratory problem that will stay with her all of her life. The boy, while somewhat skinny for a Persian, is of much stronger built and only recently spayed, which is problematic when introduced into an existing dynamic of two large males.
Fur flew. The Maine Coon, is not happy about the new pensioners and is quite vocal about his distaste. He also refuses to deal with them at this point, requiring a certain level of supervision and isolation. This situation, combined with some fairly tight financial woes prevents us from having something of a social life for a while. My return to customer service, putting me in constant contact with the general public all day does not encourage me to interact even more when I'm off work, and my partner's recent unemployment has the added benefit of making a tight financial regimen necessary.
To our friend's woe.
I haven't had to sail such precarious water for so long, it takes some getting used to, and with any luck a few good nights of sleep. It does allow us to catch up a little with our mounting pile of movies that were acquired but not yet previewed.
There is a price for everything, and responsibility requires some sacrifices. I can only count myself lucky that we have cats and not children; we'll never have to deal with having to drive them to soccer practice.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Coming soon to a browser near you
There are events that may not leave much of a mark; verbal abuse has very little visible impact for instance. And then there are events that, by all logic, should leave terrible marks. Being hit in the head with a truck door would, by all order of logic, leave a lasting impression on the receiver. It would certainly be hard to think that it couldn't
And yet, besides the obvious scars, I have little aftereffects of that event. Well, little physical traces anyways. There are consequences, just not the kind that most people expect.
For instance, there was no sudden interest in religion, renewed belief in God, or spiritual discovery. I did not succumb to some sort of massive life questioning where my path is reset and a new direction is taken, one possibly more aligned with people's expectations.
There was certainly an renewal in spiritual pursuit, just like there was a renewed dedication of artistic endeavour, and certainly a new understanding of what had to be done for my goals to be achieved. It had dawned on me just how much time got wasted, some of it due to external circumstances, some of it due to self-limitation.
In my artistic pursuits, I have decided a while back that I should control my destiny as much as possible; while the concept of self-publishing or micro labels is certainly not new, or financially rewarding, I figured that if I was going to do this, I should do my utmost to do it on my own, to be the captain and pilot of my own ship.
I took the step of registering a domain name a year ago, with the optic of getting a website up and running withing a few months; as per many of my projects, it has not come to pass yet. Now that I have reached the renewal time, it became obvious that if I made the choice to continue, then I should make damn sure that something should come out of it, good or bad.
The endgame is to bring the project to its conclusion, not just give it a shot and give up halfway through. I have spent far too much time on the abstract, while not doing any of the actual work. That the first sketch will be bad and amateurish, I fully expect; I now have to welcome it, so that I can learn and grow from this experience and develop new skills or understanding.
I have the will, I have a direction. Now, I just have to grab a machete and hack my way.
Onward and forward.
And yet, besides the obvious scars, I have little aftereffects of that event. Well, little physical traces anyways. There are consequences, just not the kind that most people expect.
For instance, there was no sudden interest in religion, renewed belief in God, or spiritual discovery. I did not succumb to some sort of massive life questioning where my path is reset and a new direction is taken, one possibly more aligned with people's expectations.
There was certainly an renewal in spiritual pursuit, just like there was a renewed dedication of artistic endeavour, and certainly a new understanding of what had to be done for my goals to be achieved. It had dawned on me just how much time got wasted, some of it due to external circumstances, some of it due to self-limitation.
In my artistic pursuits, I have decided a while back that I should control my destiny as much as possible; while the concept of self-publishing or micro labels is certainly not new, or financially rewarding, I figured that if I was going to do this, I should do my utmost to do it on my own, to be the captain and pilot of my own ship.
 |
| Or tank |
I took the step of registering a domain name a year ago, with the optic of getting a website up and running withing a few months; as per many of my projects, it has not come to pass yet. Now that I have reached the renewal time, it became obvious that if I made the choice to continue, then I should make damn sure that something should come out of it, good or bad.
The endgame is to bring the project to its conclusion, not just give it a shot and give up halfway through. I have spent far too much time on the abstract, while not doing any of the actual work. That the first sketch will be bad and amateurish, I fully expect; I now have to welcome it, so that I can learn and grow from this experience and develop new skills or understanding.
I have the will, I have a direction. Now, I just have to grab a machete and hack my way.
Onward and forward.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
The best time to get insomnia
Its now the second night in a row where I cant get to sleep. No particular worry, no particular stress plaguing me, just perhaps a bit of eagerness to get things done, especially writing.
Not the fiction kind, unfortunately but the blog posting kind, particularly of my food blog Hungry, Smart And Poor. Sure, its a long simmering project from back in my days working for a cable company when I was tempted to dwell into getting a cable access show, teaching those cash-strapped and untutored to cook home food on a budget.
Sure, there are shows like that, like Rachel Ray's but I'm not a fan. There are also Home Ec classes, but they leave a lot to be desired, and I cant say that moms have been teaching their kids to do it, especially on a budget. To me its such a basic need that there are things that should be taught to anyone leaving the family nest so that they can survive without starving.
Anyways, here I am, hunkered down on my laptop at an uncomfortable position (on purpose, as I would waste even more time of all kinds of distracting trivia otherwise), trying to think and plan on the next few entries. It is keeping my mind busy and distracted from the other big project, as the apartment needs cleaning and organizing. And I am randomly skipping to organizing the grocery budget for this week, while maximizing what stuff I already have.
As I deal with such mental workouts I am brought to be thankful that I am not a family man. I can barely deal getting my own life together I cant conceive being responsible for a bunch of toddlers. I don't see the reward in that, I really don't. Its just not part of my emotional and mental makeup I guess. Several years of working in customer service probably aren't helping.
I can barely stop myself from moving around furniture and putting some nails in the walls at four in the morning, so I have my own issues to deal with. I have too many projects on the back burner, its probably not healthy for my sanity, but that's me, I have to have all those options available for those days when I really feel like I have to get things done.
Like sleep. I guess its one of those projects that just took the back burner tonight.
Not the fiction kind, unfortunately but the blog posting kind, particularly of my food blog Hungry, Smart And Poor. Sure, its a long simmering project from back in my days working for a cable company when I was tempted to dwell into getting a cable access show, teaching those cash-strapped and untutored to cook home food on a budget.
Sure, there are shows like that, like Rachel Ray's but I'm not a fan. There are also Home Ec classes, but they leave a lot to be desired, and I cant say that moms have been teaching their kids to do it, especially on a budget. To me its such a basic need that there are things that should be taught to anyone leaving the family nest so that they can survive without starving.
Anyways, here I am, hunkered down on my laptop at an uncomfortable position (on purpose, as I would waste even more time of all kinds of distracting trivia otherwise), trying to think and plan on the next few entries. It is keeping my mind busy and distracted from the other big project, as the apartment needs cleaning and organizing. And I am randomly skipping to organizing the grocery budget for this week, while maximizing what stuff I already have.
As I deal with such mental workouts I am brought to be thankful that I am not a family man. I can barely deal getting my own life together I cant conceive being responsible for a bunch of toddlers. I don't see the reward in that, I really don't. Its just not part of my emotional and mental makeup I guess. Several years of working in customer service probably aren't helping.
I can barely stop myself from moving around furniture and putting some nails in the walls at four in the morning, so I have my own issues to deal with. I have too many projects on the back burner, its probably not healthy for my sanity, but that's me, I have to have all those options available for those days when I really feel like I have to get things done.
Like sleep. I guess its one of those projects that just took the back burner tonight.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Sadness and sorrow
After his cage mate died of lung problems, our boy Errol got into a depression, being left all alone without a buddy to cuddle with. In no time, he also developed lung problems, going into a round of antibiotics. He looked like he had recovered, but unfortunately for rats, they all carry some lung issue; they are a sort of time bomb for the poor buggers.
We had been looking forward to finding him a new mate, a nice friend he could cuddle with once more. We had one prospect lined up, but before we could get in touch with her current keeper, he fell ill again. The treatment did not help, and as his state was deteriorating, we needed to visit the vet once more.
It turned out to be the last. Given that he was not responding to the treatment, the recommendation was euthanasia. There was just no bringing him back, he was suffering so much. After a quiet and tearful time for the last goodbye, he was first sedated, then his pain was taken away permanently. He died peacefully, and is now resting with his cage mate, while we await the cremation arrangements.
He was with us for such a brief time, but he was such a loverboy. He enjoyed company and all he wanted was to cuddle up and snuggle.
Dear Errol, our fine boy, you will be missed.
Errol 2010-2011
We had been looking forward to finding him a new mate, a nice friend he could cuddle with once more. We had one prospect lined up, but before we could get in touch with her current keeper, he fell ill again. The treatment did not help, and as his state was deteriorating, we needed to visit the vet once more.
It turned out to be the last. Given that he was not responding to the treatment, the recommendation was euthanasia. There was just no bringing him back, he was suffering so much. After a quiet and tearful time for the last goodbye, he was first sedated, then his pain was taken away permanently. He died peacefully, and is now resting with his cage mate, while we await the cremation arrangements.
He was with us for such a brief time, but he was such a loverboy. He enjoyed company and all he wanted was to cuddle up and snuggle.
Dear Errol, our fine boy, you will be missed.
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