Brandon and I watched a borrowed library disc of Logan’s Run wide screen version last night. It was a first for him and a distant memory for myself. I have faint glimpses of Michael York and a pretty girl escaping a utopian underworld to the ruins of Washington DC, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember the ending. Parts of the 70’s are a sleepy cannabis induced fog, reviewing the film brought the same gleeful buzz without the red-eyed stupor. That and a joy bubble from a perfect example of the correct way to typeset Lublin’s Avant Garde Light (opening titles –yum!).
Whereas Star Wars dominated and upstaged all that was post-apocalyptic sci-fi in the 70’s, this movie has a cool, mod, sexy and visually fascinating aura that despite its pastel shopping mall death ritual and arcane special effects, makes me want to read the book. Added to the wishlist:
“They could do a really awesome remake of this” so said my son. I agreed. Then spouted off my low budget version of the life of Peter Ustinov’s character (the old man) as an intensely lonely boy, then man drawing pictures of cats, immersed in books that didn’t make sense, and plagued by night dreams of people wanting to touch his face. It could be done with four actors, an abandoned building or two and blurred clips from the old movie. Probably for around 100k or less if I was a truly connected Hollywood creative.
Brandon’s version has a budget and the destruction of the dome isn’t brought about by a simple computer error. (The idea of abort, retry or fail wasn’t vogue in the 70’s –when a computer cant answer a question everything explodes!) Further brainstorming developed into the sanctuary-runner people becoming more of an organized underground resistance and much better robots. We both agreed to give Moebius a call for visuals.
This morning’s research via IMBD dashed our yet to be written screenplays to the rocks, the sequel is already in production for this year and I’m guessing to be released around Christmastime. Dang!
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Idiot/Maniac
Ever hear the saying: “Everyone going slower than you is an idiot, and everyone passing you is a maniac”? It a bit of amateur cultural anthropological wisdom I picked up somewhere and it's just stinky with truth.
Fri-Sat first real snow-winter precipitation of the season, winter storm advisory changed to warning. Much to the dismay of my snowboarding son it wasn’t the nice fluffy powder but a mix of rain, pre-formed slush and wet snow. Freezing conditions brought road travel to a minimum, it was snotty, yet necessity forced me out into it a few times -no big deal.
A little background: I consider myself an experienced driver, when it comes to low traction situations I have a generous portion of confidence. Thinking back, being a northeastern native son spanked by the snow belt has grown me into the winter driver par excellence.
A youth learning to drive a field car on greasy wet grass, taking out the car onto the frozen lake to do high-speed spins, towing (and being towed) via snowboard “water-skiing” late night sessions on back roads (we learned how to do “Rockfords” then). Even when I raced motocross I always did very well in the mud. As an adult a few years of riding in the “meat seat” (co-driver) in a rally car has given me a profound sense of high-speed drift. My own driving attempts with left foot braking; on the gas early-apex slides have been met with success. Add a little racecar school and a maze of local back roads and after a while, sliding is controllable, efficient and joyous. Works on gravel, on ice, and its always the best/easiest on hard packed snow.
My daughter commented while taking her to work, “Dad you’re so weird, everyone else freaks out when the cars slides, you think its fun and at try to do it”. –Yep, it’s true.Maybe it’s an inherent sense of physics or a coordination/athletic ability. Could be a bit of Gardner’s Bodily-Kinesthetic teamed with a personality with a propensity for risk-taking, all factors.
Not to say I’ve never stuffed it in a snowbank, …probably will again someday. That’s why one has a tow strap in the trunk. A pickup truck driving redneck will always stop if all he has to do is back up, you hook on, a quick yank, unhook, -he drives away with a wave, never leaving his seat.
Same trip to drop off my daughter, coming down the hill into Whitney Point on Rt. 26, we fly by an overly cautious ’01 Subaru AWD Forester. Catch myself wanting to say, “Idiot!” Almost fact he’s calling me a (insert expletive) Maniac!
Fri-Sat first real snow-winter precipitation of the season, winter storm advisory changed to warning. Much to the dismay of my snowboarding son it wasn’t the nice fluffy powder but a mix of rain, pre-formed slush and wet snow. Freezing conditions brought road travel to a minimum, it was snotty, yet necessity forced me out into it a few times -no big deal.
A little background: I consider myself an experienced driver, when it comes to low traction situations I have a generous portion of confidence. Thinking back, being a northeastern native son spanked by the snow belt has grown me into the winter driver par excellence.
A youth learning to drive a field car on greasy wet grass, taking out the car onto the frozen lake to do high-speed spins, towing (and being towed) via snowboard “water-skiing” late night sessions on back roads (we learned how to do “Rockfords” then). Even when I raced motocross I always did very well in the mud. As an adult a few years of riding in the “meat seat” (co-driver) in a rally car has given me a profound sense of high-speed drift. My own driving attempts with left foot braking; on the gas early-apex slides have been met with success. Add a little racecar school and a maze of local back roads and after a while, sliding is controllable, efficient and joyous. Works on gravel, on ice, and its always the best/easiest on hard packed snow.
My daughter commented while taking her to work, “Dad you’re so weird, everyone else freaks out when the cars slides, you think its fun and at try to do it”. –Yep, it’s true.Maybe it’s an inherent sense of physics or a coordination/athletic ability. Could be a bit of Gardner’s Bodily-Kinesthetic teamed with a personality with a propensity for risk-taking, all factors.
Not to say I’ve never stuffed it in a snowbank, …probably will again someday. That’s why one has a tow strap in the trunk. A pickup truck driving redneck will always stop if all he has to do is back up, you hook on, a quick yank, unhook, -he drives away with a wave, never leaving his seat.
Same trip to drop off my daughter, coming down the hill into Whitney Point on Rt. 26, we fly by an overly cautious ’01 Subaru AWD Forester. Catch myself wanting to say, “Idiot!” Almost fact he’s calling me a (insert expletive) Maniac!
Saturday, January 22, 2005
The Crowd Went Wild
Had a very vivid dream last night. Like most dreams surreal, strange and as usual, myself; very out of character.
It was a big rock show that the church was putting on. Three other guys and myself put together a retro-weezer-pub-cowpunk type of band and we had matching plaid short sleeve shirts. I decided to wear my Buddy Holly glasses. One of the dudes in the band was my childhood friend Steve. He and I played guitars. The other unknown dudes on bass and drums, one of them had a full head of short white hair.
With limited practice time we worked up a 4-song set, one of the songs was a cover of “No Time Left For You” by the Guess Who. Things were hurried yet I was fairly at ease and comfortable, basically ready for the night’s performance.
Glimpses of brief discussions, a bustling, busy atmosphere, a stage getting set-up and people moving about, then it was our turn. The first song was kinda sketchy, we bombed. I was a little nervous, but we came back strong on No Time, I belted out a screaming-preaching blues-brothers style solo during the bridge. We quickly picked it up with the last two songs and basically ended in a kickin’ jam session.
The crowd went wild and rushed the stage, they wanted to get pictures taken with us. I figured I should probably buy my own guitar now, then I awoke.
It was a big rock show that the church was putting on. Three other guys and myself put together a retro-weezer-pub-cowpunk type of band and we had matching plaid short sleeve shirts. I decided to wear my Buddy Holly glasses. One of the dudes in the band was my childhood friend Steve. He and I played guitars. The other unknown dudes on bass and drums, one of them had a full head of short white hair.
With limited practice time we worked up a 4-song set, one of the songs was a cover of “No Time Left For You” by the Guess Who. Things were hurried yet I was fairly at ease and comfortable, basically ready for the night’s performance.
Glimpses of brief discussions, a bustling, busy atmosphere, a stage getting set-up and people moving about, then it was our turn. The first song was kinda sketchy, we bombed. I was a little nervous, but we came back strong on No Time, I belted out a screaming-preaching blues-brothers style solo during the bridge. We quickly picked it up with the last two songs and basically ended in a kickin’ jam session.
The crowd went wild and rushed the stage, they wanted to get pictures taken with us. I figured I should probably buy my own guitar now, then I awoke.
Monday, November 29, 2004
Chris Crawford On Game Design
Just finished this book (see title), a most excellent read. Mr. Atari’s take is one from the old-timers of the game industry, thus his remarks range from insightful to scathing. Rightly so, the gaming industry has seen little innovation in over 5 years and is currently cranking out tons of me too, more-of-the-same and pretty sequels at a comfortable rate. He says it best:
Funny thing is that you can replace “computer and videogames” with almost anything in pop culture. First comes to mind is hip-hop, country music and television. It’s as if the machine is one-trick pony and is destined to be formulaic and squeeze out creativity. All that talk of empowering the individual in the new media boom of the mid nineties was just a pipe dream. I believe there are solutions, inspiration and innovations out there its just that the blanket of big money is covering it up at the moment.
“Computer and videogames are now a narrowly defined entertainment form avidly pursued by a subset of the mass market. It’s easier this way for everybody. Marketing people know exactly whom to advertise to, what the ads should look like, and so forth. Retailers know exactly how to stock their shelves. Producers know precisely what sells, and designers don’t have to sweat being innovative; they need only apply the latest technology to the time-honored standard designs. It’s a comfortable arrangement, and it works well. Thousands of satisfied employees grind out products for millions of happy, well-defined customers. The system works; everybody makes money.” –pages 338-339,
Funny thing is that you can replace “computer and videogames” with almost anything in pop culture. First comes to mind is hip-hop, country music and television. It’s as if the machine is one-trick pony and is destined to be formulaic and squeeze out creativity. All that talk of empowering the individual in the new media boom of the mid nineties was just a pipe dream. I believe there are solutions, inspiration and innovations out there its just that the blanket of big money is covering it up at the moment.
Monday, September 20, 2004
Random Ranting
TV has gotten out of touch with its viewing public, whereas they been guilty in the past, its now become so insipid, so obvious and pathetic that even those device dependant have begun to wonder what’s going on.
I’m so sick of the Harley Davidson mythos I could hork. What was once a true underground American subculture has been packaged, glossed over and consumerized so well that for 20,000.00 and a leather jacket you too can be one of the disillusioned. Super-size that with 100 dollars worth of cookie cutter tattoo ink and you can be forcefully immune from any disenchantment. Target market pudgy midlife crisis with a 2-beer buzz and fell asleep watching Easy Rider. Lazy-ass OCC wannabee Victims!
If I see one more Civic fitted with a coffee can stinkpipe and an aluminum airplane wing on the back, simultaneously sporting shite stickers and the cheapest tires available I will go on a rampage of epic proportions. This is another example of crass, cheap-ass, magazine-induced hypnotism designed to infiltrate your wallet, you’re a victim, WAKE UP!
Why is it that Mountain Dew is cheaper than milk? –No wonder there are so many fat kids. How did we end up living in a culture that has to spend extra time, money and effort to NOT eat so much sugar?
The cry to “live more – consume less” seems to be falling on deaf ears. The machine has been running too well, for too long and its been pulling at the people so well that we’ve excepted, expected and eagerly anticipated the next level of convenience, high-fashion and media produced self-image consciousness. Trying hard not to be a victim. It’s a war and I don’t know how to win it. But at least I’ve woken up and it’s pissed me off.
I’m so sick of the Harley Davidson mythos I could hork. What was once a true underground American subculture has been packaged, glossed over and consumerized so well that for 20,000.00 and a leather jacket you too can be one of the disillusioned. Super-size that with 100 dollars worth of cookie cutter tattoo ink and you can be forcefully immune from any disenchantment. Target market pudgy midlife crisis with a 2-beer buzz and fell asleep watching Easy Rider. Lazy-ass OCC wannabee Victims!
If I see one more Civic fitted with a coffee can stinkpipe and an aluminum airplane wing on the back, simultaneously sporting shite stickers and the cheapest tires available I will go on a rampage of epic proportions. This is another example of crass, cheap-ass, magazine-induced hypnotism designed to infiltrate your wallet, you’re a victim, WAKE UP!
Why is it that Mountain Dew is cheaper than milk? –No wonder there are so many fat kids. How did we end up living in a culture that has to spend extra time, money and effort to NOT eat so much sugar?
The cry to “live more – consume less” seems to be falling on deaf ears. The machine has been running too well, for too long and its been pulling at the people so well that we’ve excepted, expected and eagerly anticipated the next level of convenience, high-fashion and media produced self-image consciousness. Trying hard not to be a victim. It’s a war and I don’t know how to win it. But at least I’ve woken up and it’s pissed me off.
Thursday, September 9, 2004
Bomb That Freight
Trainspotting, not the movie. Right outside my current office lays a few sets of railroad tracks. The occasional magical glimpse leaves me checking the tracks like the weather channel. Every so often I get the view of some of the most amazing collaborative graphic design I’ve ever seen. Juxtaposed against flat industrial colors, clear-concise identification and some of the best/most abbreviated transportation logos known to man are the very colorfully chaotic, wonderfully garish tags, bombs, pieces ever produced by an aerosol can. These graffiti artists sometimes flip me right out. What makes it perfect is the placement on the canvas always says excellent design in its polar opposites simultaneously. Freedom and conformity, post-mod and mod, cause and effect, static and movement, order and chaos - like I said, flips me right out. They are like moving museum pieces randomly exposing themselves to the urban sprawl. Inspiring!
Friday, August 13, 2004
I [heart] Beck
Finding a personal duplicity in musical tastes. On one side the quest for the headwaters of my distinct cultural conditioning are leading to areas of country, folk, bluegrass, blues, 60’s rock and 70’s country rock. No lack of excellent music there. On the other side, some strange need to immerse myself in nothing but machine-based, beat driven, science fiction orientated, mellow-jazzy-trippy-lounge-turntablism, has got me collecting some pretty obscure but wonderful discs. The only (perhaps not only, only unfound) balancing genre seems to pivot somewhere around the artist Beck.
Further introspection reveals a similar dichotomy in the visual realm. One side steeped in the traditionalism of typography, serifs and copperplate script fashioned with the utmost integrity, illustrative elements inked with brush and pen. Fueled by an immense passion-driven knowledge of Art Nouveou, the Arts & Crafts Movement, -history, theory and practice. It is a rich and sublimely interesting field of study. Then Jekyll’s Hyde: a digital, cyborg vision where nothing exists only in pixel, vector and code. It is sterile, clean, organized and controllable. I like it.
Organic vs. artificial? Soul/spirit warring against logic? Left vs. right brain? Maybe it aint no thing and I should just let it flow, be like Beck.
Further introspection reveals a similar dichotomy in the visual realm. One side steeped in the traditionalism of typography, serifs and copperplate script fashioned with the utmost integrity, illustrative elements inked with brush and pen. Fueled by an immense passion-driven knowledge of Art Nouveou, the Arts & Crafts Movement, -history, theory and practice. It is a rich and sublimely interesting field of study. Then Jekyll’s Hyde: a digital, cyborg vision where nothing exists only in pixel, vector and code. It is sterile, clean, organized and controllable. I like it.
Organic vs. artificial? Soul/spirit warring against logic? Left vs. right brain? Maybe it aint no thing and I should just let it flow, be like Beck.
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