You are currently browsing the archives for February, 2011.
This is one of the most beautifully crafted CGI pieces I’ve ever seen. Great theme, great storytelling, great music. Before I over-kvell, by the way, the theme of this video is dependence, and the burden that we bear in carrying it around. Which is, of course, why I live in a void-vacuum where nothing may distract me from my internet studies.
Went to the park last weekend to catch up on some reading. One of my little known habits is that I prefer to sit on the bleachers, in view of an empty baseball field. For some reason, I’ve always found baseball fields to be a very calming presence, and good for doing serious thinking. I was sitting there pouring through Joseph Campbell’s Occidental Mythology, when an older man in a tracksuit walked over, glanced up at me, and said, “They got any chinning bars around here?” Continue reading “Waxing Philosophically with Eddie Lauter” »
I’m not entirely sure why Star Trek: The Next Generation has stuck in the minds of so many mashup artists. Most likely it has to do with the timing of the show, arriving in the early 1990s just in time to conquer the brain-spaces of kids who grew up to be today’s internet meme-creators. Admittedly, Captain Picard’s face is a very comforting one. His deeply concerned reaction to the ravings of an aphasia-stricken television reporter is priceless.
Took a tour of the Griffith Observatory over the weekend and took in an awe-inspiring show inside its planetarium. It took us through man’s eon-long journey for understanding of the unknown. While I can’t replicate it for you here, I can leave something that will hopefully instill some residual sense of wonder:
Last night, I went to the EchoPlex for a mashup-type show, starring a bunch of vaguely familiar-looking internet people. As we moved through the crowd, we came across one in particular. He was a burly-ish Australian with a handlebar mustache who was bare-chested except for two star-shaped nipple pasties.
As he stopped to survey the dancers on stage (many of whom were male and semi-clad), he commented to my girlfriend “Man, they’re so smoking hot!” As she turned to ponder why he was talking to her, he remarked, totally deadpan, “Hey! You’re not my mom!” And sauntered off. It took me a few hours, but I put the mental pieces together and realized where I had seen him before: