Mickey and I spent most of the day in London today shooting interviews for a project of ours. In between chasing people down, we had way too much fun modeling for each other and being voyeurs along the Thames.
Here's some of Mickey's work:
And just a bit of mine:
I know this has been wandering around the internet, so many of you may have seen, but I'm going to post it anyway. Can you imagine what this could do for film editors? Editing this way...wow...the intuitiveness of Final Cut on a whole 'nother level. And no, today I am not going to ponder the dystopian scenarios of this technology.
*X-posted at The Alex and Ben Show*
Sometimes, after a stressful, uncreative morning, the best thing to do is just cook. Here's today's recipe for unwinding:
I sauteed fresh onions, garlic, and mushrooms, added lemon pepper and three chopped up vegetarian tomato basil sausages. I then added about a 3 teaspoons worth of smoked paprika. Once this was sizzling nicely, I gradually added a can of mushroom soup and diluted it a bit with water. Just before it finished cooking I added a dash of Tandoori Masala for a slight kick. The result? A nice thick sauce that goes great over rice.
I served it over basmati rice and if I may say so myself, it hit the spot. Once I figure out how to plate it well, I might put some pictures up.
Here's Brian McLaren, speaking with the wisdom I've come to expect from him.
*X-posted at The Alex and Ben Show*
My film muscles have definitely atrophied as a test shoot (we shot one a short video clip-one of ten due in September-to start meshing as a team) we did today proved, but it was fun, and hopefully I'll be in completely back in shape in a few weeks. Here are some pictures from today's festivities courtesy of Dragana U.
Today, it's Mickey's turn to be the corporate animal.
He's very good at it.
Aren't we pretty?
Toast fun for everyone...
I had an odd moment earlier today. I left my office (I know, my office...) to get a drink, and I was standing by the water cooler, and I thought "Oh!"
What is the vision? What are we trying to do? Simply put, I see tedMEDIA as a bridge. 500 years ago, The New World was a continent explorers attempted to reach, today, it's a state of mind, and for many of us who are Christians, it is forbidding piece of real estate. We at tedMEDIA are attempting to make journeys into this paradigm just a bit less forboding. We're not just here for the Christians though; there are a lot of people searching for some type of spiritual meaning and Christians really haven't been able to contribute much to the conversation because we're just a bit stuck-up and prone to nastiness. tedMEDIA's goal isn't to coerce, frighten, or browbeat anyone with our beliefs; we just want to start an actual conversation, and a conversation isn't can't just be about talking, it must be about listening.
It's a pretty tough mountain we've decided to scale, but maybe what we see as success can't be measured in such tangible terms. In my opinion, if we can simply cause someone to gain a new perspective on Christianity instead of simply stiffening at the term, we will have done very well indeed.
And so here we are with just our cameras and heads full of images. We believe strongly that Christian media must not only be based in what we see as truth, but must be well designed, artistic, and visually powerful. For too long, many Christian films have presumptuously neglected story, acting, and cinematography in the belief that God will bless because they are spreading the truth. We forget that God puts a high premium on the artistic. We've set a high standard for ourselves; we'll see if we can live up to just a few of those artistic and spiritual values in the next three years.
The last few days have been slightly dizzying, so I'm only now attempting catching my breath. They've included sickness, frantic packing, hours spent at the DMV, a driving test, a hideous license picture, a transatlantic flight a few hours after said test, issues at customs with work permits and visas, and trying to adjust to St. Albans, UK (extended case of sticker shock at UK prices).
Mickey S., my brave coworker and fellow SAU film school graduate, has been battling a nasty virus is slowly recovering. In the meantime I've been trying to arrange our small flat as well getting eeting the local Serbian community, of which my boss is a part. Melita P., my boss' daughter and college friend has helped a bit with the whole adjustment. Our flat is a two minute walk from downtown St. Alban's, a gorgeous little city near London. The city center is, well, quaint I suppose is the word, full of that beautiful, ancient English architecture. I'm not sure if Mickey and I will ever really quite catch our breath this year. Today we start work and there's so much to do before we start shooting.
I have an odd fondness for dystopian stories. It's the kind of predilection that makes one wonder about one's stability. What is there to love in the corroded landscapes of 1984, The Road, or Dark City? Perhaps this fondness stems from the fact that I feel there is a lot to be learned from pain, but I think that there is more to this fascination. For the idealist who grows more and more aware of reality, this present life is a dystopia. To read or view these gloomy visions of alternate futures is simply seeing this current world in a metaphor. And often, buried deep within the Children of Men or V for Vendetta's of modern literature, is a seed of hope. It doesn't glow very brightly, sometimes it has to be unearthed, but it flickers dimly under the soil, waiting to blossom. For those of us who dream of change and justice and fairness, we cling to that flicker and bring it back with us into our own barren landscapes, with a renewed sense of action and even faith. Here's to V and Evey, to a father protecting his son, to John Murdoch, and to a mother with a miracle. Here's to dystopia.
I like the idea that art can take many forms, be so many different things to so many different people, but I've always had trouble with performance art.
Well, here's a piece I can definitely buy into, a piece whose art is just a little mind blowing and very heart wrenching: Domestic Tension.
I have no words right now, but the words of a much greater writer than I moved me today:
O, Porcupine
without a queen the locust swarm
turned the ground to black
descending like a shadowy tower on a fish's back
and scattered the sticks who crawled
like snakes in the sand
as the red clay took the form of a lizard
who rushed like a moth to the flame of my open hand
[while, in my little world, my sad little world...]
a speckled bird humbly inspired
ran across the road when it could have flown
and it made me smile
at the water's edge, Babylon
we laid down and slept
as the river wept for you, Zion!
the stones cry out,
bells shake the sky
all creation groans...
SHHHH!
(honestly, be quiet a while -
particularly outside)
listen to it!
messes of men in farmer poverty;
not much for monks but we pretend to be
share a silent meal and a pot of chamomile
gypsies like us should be stamped in solidarity
I held you in my fond but distant memory
while for the Mother Hen to gather me
who regretfully wrote,
"you have a decent ear for notes
but you can't yet appreciate harmony."
O' porcupine perched low in the tree
your eyes to mine:
"you'd be well inclined not to mess with me."
at the garden's edge beneath a speechless sky
as his friends all slept
Jesus wept- and it's no wonder why
and now you say you wanna be set free?
and wanna set me free?
well I'm told that can only come from
a union with the One who never dies.
--mewithoutYou, from the album Brother,Sister
This is pretty trippy: check out The Virtual Barbershop. Oh, and make sure you have a good pair of speakers, or even better, a decent set of earphones. Closing your eyes doesn't hurt either.
Check out Kari Cheney's thoughts about life in Thailand over at Muak Lek Musings.
A few of my friends, John-Michael Brown and Stratton Tingle (fellow film grads) head up a band called Antebellum, and I got a chance to see them in concert yesterday at the Barking Legs Theater.
On my flight to the States yesterday, I heard what may have become my favorite movie line so far.
In the film Blood Diamond, Leonardo DiCaprio and Djimon Hounsou's characters are searching for a diamond buried somewhere in Sierra Leone, each for their own reasons, and they stumble across a village destroyed by RUF rebels. An old man sits in the still smoking ruins, and ask Hounsou what the white man is looking for.
"Diamonds, like the rest of them," Hounsou replies.
The man shakes his head,
"I hope they never find oil here," he says looking over at DiCaprio.
"Then we'll really have it bad."
I love how surreal Thailand can be sometimes. Farm Chokcai, one of the largest dairy farms in the country may take take the cake. Where else do you have, well...no, I should let the pictures speak for themselves. Enjoy.
To add to the fun, the farm is also home to a classy little retreat, a luxury camp site equipped with air conditioned tents, and a great view from the bathrooms.
Lizzy and I spent a few hours at the Tamarind Cafe today. If you're in Bangkok one of these days and in search for unique Vegetarian Food (Malay Quesedilla/Sesame Seed Falafels anyone?) as well as a pretty cool assortment of fruit drinks. I highly recommend it and I think Lizzy agrees.
[Photo Credit - Bangkok Tatler]
So if I get to be 55 and someone says to me "Oh my! You're so mature for 55, I had thought for sure you were 63," I might have to hurt somebody. I'm just sayin', that's all...
I was wandering a bit aimlessly around Mission College when I saw a dark shape jauntily crossing the road. I blinked a few times before I registered what I was seeing. A fish as large as my hand was bouncing across the road using its fins. It must left the pond on one side of the road to migrate to the larger pond across the way.
I resisted the urge to save it the trouble by tossing it into the pond and instead stood still, watching. It reached the other side of the pavement and began wriggling through the grass. It would move several inches, then stop and rest, then move again. I watched for twenty minutes, ignoring the mosquitoes who seemed to have an odd fascination with my head, as the fish disappeared into the long grass. After a while, I could only see where it was by the brief, violent jittering of grass blades. The wind blew the blades gently, but there was no mistaking where the fish was.
I was tempted to leave a few times, but never moved, staring down the incline. The fish finally reached the edge of the shore, and with a tiny push, slipped into the water, leaving only gentle rings on the water's skin to show where it had entered.
Executed man's last request honored -- pizza for homeless.
[May 17, 2007 Update]
Check out Julius N.'s post about this over at Progressive Adventism. He's got some interesting details about Workman including his post-conviction conversion to Adventism.
Yesterday, I paid my respects at the funeral of Mr. Utid, the father of one of the graduates of AIMS, the elementary school of which my mom is the administrator. He was 53.
This is the first Buddhist funeral I have attended and it felt like a tangle of an ancient ritual that you would read about in myths and a modern western funeral. The ceremony was held in the courtyard of one of the wealthier temples in the city of Saraburi. Mr. Utid was a prominent man and the courtyard pavilion was packed with province's high society. The ceremony consisted of two parts. A large part of it was the presentation of gifts to the monastery. One man in a black tie and white shirt trekked up and down the stairs of the ornate crematorium that sat in front of the pavilion delivering the gifts to the saffron-robed monk who hid behind his fan and sedately accepted the gifts. The crowd of people talked, laughed, ate and drank (yes, we were served snacks) as this part of the ceremony went on.
At the end, we stood for a prayer and then a hidden, traditional orchestra struck up a intense beat. We filed up the stairs of the crematorium, paying respects at the gold and white casket. 
The crematorium was an odd structure. A brand new incinerator was installed in the building, a shiny marble exterior and computerized controls buried in classic Thai architecture.
Everything seemed very matter-of-fact. Everyone acted fairly cheerful, though the family members wore looks of studied neutrality, with a creeping sadness edging into their eyes.
My mom and I talked about funerals and other important life ceremonies on the way back home. We both don't particularly want funerals and I told her that I would completely back her up on not having a funeral when she dies; as long as she puts it in the will so that I'm not viewed as the evil son. I don't think closure requires a ceremony like that and if other people require it...well, I'm sorry, but I don't need an hour of people remembering me. If I die, remember me in your dreams and in quiet cafe conversations, that will be enough.
Tim Bray of the blog Ongoing came up with a great little concept that I think I'd like to support to continue the success of the American experiment, if only for a few centuries more. His idea? It's time for a radical redesign of our borders. Check out the new North American map and Bray's plan for the redesign.
Author Kittey Kelley writes about why, despite "the messy flaws of U.S. democracy," she's proud of America. For once, I cheerfully agree. Your Majesty? Not in America
I won't say much, but I'd like to present a short by my good friend Tanya M., a sophomore at Southern's film school, and someone I've had the pleasure of seeing grow up into a fantastic filmmaker. Without anymore blustering, may I present, Fear.
Fear
Add to My Profile | More Videos
My good friend and sometimes collaborator Scott Fogg has a new blog up. Go check out Coyote Crossing.
these are my people
call the fire dancers
the dreamers
call the lunatics and the poets
these are my people
born of a flaming pillar
the sleepers
born of a dream and a whisper
these are my people
a vagabond tribe
the windblown (let the desert be our home)
a place of freaks and outcasts
these are my people
call the painters
the forgotten
call the tired and hungry
call my People.
Photo Credit: The Real Taiwan
Yet another This American Life episode (#188 Kid Logic, for those keeping track) has gifted me with a small epiphany. The episode deals with how kids, through perfect logic come up with answers that are utterly wrong. Like the crew of This American Life apparently, I love stories of this nature. I started thinking about how logical I was as a kid, and all the wrong answers I came up with using perfectly logical steps. As I reminisced I stumbled across a thought. Is this the way it is between with us and God (or the universe/nature for those of you who prefer your existence un-deified)? Are we operating through pure logic, coming up smugly with answers we are sure are correct (I mean, we used perfect logic to come to these conclusions) but coming up with absolutely wrong answers, because like these kids, we just don't have the right information to process this stuff?
Just a thought.
Although I savor moments of silence and solitude, people who know me also know that I have a tendency to rattle on...and on...and on some special days...on. It's not exactly Logorrhoea, but it's close enough to be considered a mild case.
A person featured on This American Life (episode #326 Quiz Show) put it quite well. He had an epiphany, one day at work, and realized--after a slightly rambling monologue about the difference between apes and monkeys--that he was informing people against their will (Sit down. Shut up. Learn. might serve nicely as an unofficial motto. No? Sleep on it.). I think people like us tend to come off as a bit arrogant sometimes or even belittle people, I certainly have, who don't catch our references but I don't think most of us mean to. So my sincerest apologies to those caught unwillingly in the information barrage and the subsequent, "Come on, how can you not know that?"'s.
Most of us really don't mean to cause harm or suicide due to extreme irritation. Now shut up and listen to me.
