Month: August 2005

  • Time To Stock Up

    While I debate my next Serious Project For The Day, I think I’ll brew up some iced tea and gather the snack foods. It’s definitely time to have iced beverages in ready supply.

    All things considered, I think I’m keeping a fairly high content-to-filler ratio. Wouldn’t you agree?

    As an aside for the anime fans out there: Can you imagine a better song choice for a Fushigi Yuugi music video than Duran Duran’s “Ordinary World”? I certainly can’t. (This geeky aside brought to you by my recent viewing of ErMaC’s last video, “Extraordinary World.” It’s a shame the video has enough cartoon nudity to prevent me from showing it to the kids, one of whom would otherwise get a big kick out of it. Le sigh. The video itself is… okay, overall. Highly experimental.)

  • Movement In Still Life

    I bought this album because of a music video. A creator of AMVs whose work I admired greatly, Justin Emerson (aka the now-retired ErMaC), used a track from BT’s “Movement In Still Life” album for a video that I didn’t enjoy as much as some of his other work but I kept watching it anyway… so I could listen to the song.

    The album is very much in the party-mix category, with a variety of dance beats, barnburners (“Never Gonna Come Back Down”) and hip-hop influences (“Smartbomb” and “Mic-Chekka”), but there are also beautiful bits like “Satellite” (used in the music video) and the dancier “Dreaming” (which, oddly enough, I want to use in my next AMV).

    For the promo, I pulled “Satellite,” “Dreaming,” “Smartbomb” and “Running Down The Way Up.” I don’t think this one works quite as smoothly as the Dada promo, but it’s not really all that shabby either.

    Oh, and in order to get “Sam” to speak his part correctly, I had to tell him the artist’s name is “Bee Tea.” Heh.

    BT – Movement promo

  • As much art as technique.

    Putting together these promos is, among other things, hugely bolstering my already significant respect for people like Bob Brooks (you’ll recognize him as the voice behind most of the Bowflex commercials) who can do audio editing professionally. This stuff’s hard, man!

    Okay. So I’m not having that tough of a time, but I also know that my piddly little efforts can’t hold a candle to what serious professionals are capable of.

    The promo is about 3/4 done now, so hopefully I’ll have a review up at the top of the hour.

  • The end of the cool.

    And now for the beginning of the first really fun part of this year’s efforts: Surviving in a really warm room with a computer I can’t turn off, until things cool down again some time around midnight. (The second really fun part? The stretch between 1am and 6am…)

    Ah well. I knew it was going to be this way and I agreed to do the ‘thon anyway. This just goes to show that yes, I’m a big ol’ masochist at heart. Making the best of it, I am.

    I’m rather proud of that bit below, even if it is lighter in wordcount than my usual artsy vignettes. Then again, how many words can a guy crank out in twenty minutes or so and still get a semi-coherent scene out of it? Besides, I’m still getting a kick out of coming up with “Puck’s perverted pickle.” (Does it help for the reader to know that David’s last name is Oberon? Probably.) Yes, I’m a weirdo.

    I’ve picked my next album review, so now begins the task of assembling audio bits in Cool Edit. I’m sticking with more of that lesser-known-artist stuff… you’ll find out who, in another hour or so.

  • Bad Puppy.

    Here’s another exercise in having characters flap their gums at one another. Enjoy!


    “It got away from you, didn’t it?”

    I turned at the sound of David’s voice. I knew he was there; I’d sensed his arrival a few minutes before but wasn’t in the frame of mind to greet him properly. “I suppose you could say that, yes.”

    “I suppose I just did.”

    “Hah. Clever man.”

    He gestured in the direction of the valley floor, visible through the blackened remains of once-proud evergreen trees. “Was it worth it?”

    “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

    “You’d better damned well know.”

    I sighed. “No, it wasn’t.”

    “Good. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

    “Go to hell.”

    “I live there, remember?”

    “Right.” Nobody is ever really in the mood to have their nose rubbed in their mistakes, and I’m honest enough with myself to admit that I’m touchier about that sort of thing than most people. “Okay, you’ve made your point. Do you suppose you could go bug somebody else for a while?”

    “No, I don’t think so.”

    “You’re all heart.”

    “Uh huh. Don’t you know it.”

    “Look, David. Could I really have done it any differently? They were messing about with forces they couldn’t begin to understand, yet, let alone control properly.”

    “And that’s a good excuse to break cover, make an ass of yourself showing off, and escalate the situation beyond all reason?” This normally quiet-spoken man, my opposite number, my secret co-conspirator, was almost shouting at me now. “Look at this! Look what you’ve done, you jackass.”

    “I can see it well enough, thank you.”

    “You’re going to remember this day, right?”

    “I haven’t forgotten anything, at all, since the day I was made what I am. You know that.”

    “Well, good. Because there’s nobody left to forgive you, so you’d better damned well not forget.” Quietly now, David asked, “Didn’t you see it coming?”

    I shook my head. “I should have. I… got carried away. Caught up in it. I was angry, more than anything else.”

    “I’d have thought that Lynn’s imbroglio with that research lab would’ve taught you a thing or two. Puck’s perverted pickle, man, you’re the one who stopped her! You know what happens when you can’t walk away from a fight that you start on principle and feed with rage.”

    “I know. I know.”

    “Oh, you do now, I bet.” He waited, but I had no reply. “You’ve got to do better than this. There’s too much at stake.”

    That, I could answer. “This will not happen again.”

    “It had better damned well not. We can’t afford for you to be doing the demons’ work.”

    As I looked down from the mountain at a world stripped of all animal life, all I could do was shake my head. The tears didn’t come until later.

  • Happiness Is Canned Food

    Second breakfast, this morning, consisted of a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli. I had to give serious thought to actually buying the stuff, considering past experience, but I’m glad I did. It hit the spot rather nicely.

    I’ve got the place to myself, today, at least for a while. Not that this is much of a boon considering that I’m generally glued to my desk for the next twenty hours, but hey, I won’t turn down peace and quiet either. (Not, mind you, that my roomie or his progeny are horrible to have around!)

    Now that I’ve cranked out a music review, I’m going to take a stab at some creative writing for the next posting. Wish me luck, kids.