It’s the 28th of June!!!

First off, I would just like to address that Cold Sex is a cold sex machine goddess for creating my LJ feed and if you have an LJ, click that shit and friend that shit and pass that shit.

What’s so exciting about the 28th of June!? Well, for starters, I had a job interview that isn’t Starbucks but I don’t think I did well on it! Yeah! And Grim Grimoire came out, which is always a reason to celebrate. I have the Japanese version but, you know, I can’t read Japanese. I mean, I love Attackers and Tokyo Hot and Red Eyes X and Bang Bang Promiscuity and Night24 but I just can’t understand a word anyone’s screaming. Still doesn’t prevent the game from being fun, but I always thought: “gee, this game would be so much cooler if I could understand a word and hey that demon thing is glowing.” And now, I can understand the words! Yeah!

Also, I’ve been on an oldie-but-goodie kick and have been watching some old school classics. Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Guys and Dolls, The Maltese Falcon, Le Samourai. All good for different reasons. Not sure if I addressed this in the previous entry because I don’t read and I can’t remember anything, but I think I can attribute the good movie quest to the desire to teach a film class. I figure my old professor knew nothing about film and that didn’t stop us from begging him for college credits so I can do it too. Especially if I move to Eureka and go to another community college for free whilst editing indie films for the credential I’ll need. And if every college in America says no, I’ll just write a book about it and move to England so I can hit on my furry friend and I really miss underground transit… I guess I could move to France for that too… But they have too many French people and the smell of coffee is slowly driving me mad… which for some reason reminds me of my speech and diction class I had which then makes me want to watch My Fair Lady…

Hmm, not much that will probably interest others, so here’s another GATO adventure!

Oi, GATO! ＼(>◇<)／ギャー！ Quick, let us put out this fire!
Ho shit, get waters! O_O
Not my Barbara Walters stamp collection! Anything but that!
I thought you threw that shit out!
THROW DA FIRES OUT (*ノ・)ノギャーーーー！！
We’re working on it!
Yo, I’m workin’ heeee-ya.
Hahahaha, that’s an awesome accent!
Thanks!! (⌒▽⌒)ノ＿彡☆バンバン！ I saved it for such an occasion!

Propose a purpose.

Disclaimer: My blog is on the internet.

I was goofing off at work, pretending that it takes an hour to make more frap mix, when I thought:

Geez, this blend’s aftertaste has reached 10 minutes. I wish I were French, man. Then I could drink this shit and make a movie about unrequited love and taking care of sick kittens or some shit. More hazelnut.

That thought’s seed was watered with more Gazebo and out-sprout the Criterion Criteria:

The movie you’re thinking of making
[1] must be more than 110 minutes long or less then 75.
[2] the main character isn’t very talkative or someone else especially is.
[3] a minimum of 3 wide shots and 2 long takes.
[4] overexposed film or timelapse photography are awarded with bonus points.
[5] all tangibles things must be subject to theory and speculation about the intangible. (Re: Ozu was a genius.)
[6] must allow for an artsy indiefag* cover to be made.

(*gay people are sharp dressers with feminine voices and eat foie gras, fags are annoying psuedo-nerds with $300 dress shirts who just love the new “work” by Sofia Coppola.)

All that said, I still don’t know what this blog is going to be about, especially since I’ve decided to dedicate my career to non-linear editing instead of… writing a blog? Might do some movies for free so I can get credits out there since calling up editing labs has gotten me very far. Just in case you are Canadian and are reading this, I was being sarcastic. After college, I was prepared for begging for more barista work after I turned down a janitorial job at one editing house. Now that I think back on it, I should’ve taken that gig… but it was a 95 minute subway ride to get paid $10/hr to clean up old unused drives. I hated that, initially, but now I’m in Austin. The transit here… not good. The media here… working on it, but so far it’s like NYC with nicer people. I might take over another film club, but we’ll see how that one goes.

Well, I’m gonna go refresh myself on some Bubblegum Crisis.
Remember, kids!~ Citizen Kane is the best movie ever made.

Bootstrap Batangu

I wish I were a pirate, man. Standing on my deck, guffawing as I get incredibly soaked by the harsh waters. Yelling at people, waving a cutless about like a lunatic and not getting arrested for it… well, at least you could do it at sea. I almost got busted for wearing a skirt and having a kendo sword in a subway station once. My guard was lowered because I was staring at a toothpick that stabbed me when I picked up the phone and I was worried I’d contracted AIDS… The cops come up to me and they’re trying to open my sword but I keep telling ‘em “it’s just wood, man. No blade in there.”
“Why are you wearing a skirt?”
“Man, I do that sometimes. Can I get my sword back? I can’t cut a dude’s head off with that shit.”
“Oh, ok.” Cops hand it back, they walk away, my ex shows up, and yet I’m still bored, but I digress.

I got Ship Simulator 2006 but it sucks. I like Johnny Depp and used to play Sid Meier’s Pirates! for the Apple ][c way back when my mom was a lawyer. I got a map of the Spanish Main on my otherwise-barren wall and sometimes I think "Pfil," I say inside my head, "we should become a pirate. Don't gotta worry about working for Taco Bell if you're on the sea, pillaging, plundering, eating limes and shit."

I’M A PIRATE TODAY!
Whaaaaaat!?
Oi, GATO, you’re a pirate? ｱﾚﾚﾚ!?(･_･;?
Arrrr! That’s right, mateys! ナミダガ・・ ヽ(；▽)ノ アハハハハ
I DON’T GET IT!
That’s the whole point, simpleton! ﾑ━━━[○･｀Д´･○]━━━ヵ Cretin!
Ho shit!
Yo, why you a pirate anyways!?
I may or may not have a drinking problem!
Hahahahaha, oh man.
That’s not funny. m(._.)m ゴメン

Not to sound like I’m a homophobe but the hardest thing about being a Bleach fan was trying to explain why I hated Dragon Ball Z. Then I realized that (1) Kubo Tite’s fashion sense is fab and (2) there are far less drawings of molars.

“Sicko” or “Why I Declined The Morphine When I Broke My Wrist The First Time.”

Ok, I’m actually going to review Sicko and not just make fun of Americans this time. I was expecting something the Cannes film festival would surely jump up in joy for: an over-2-hour documentary with lethargic narration about something rich white people are doing to ruin the lives of honest hard working Americans so it can fatten their wallets and stomachs. Well, that’s what I got but I was pleasantly surprised that the documentary’s message worked this time. The case with Bowling for Columbine was simply that “guns are bad mmmkay” and that Canadians aren’t as violent and sociopathic as the Americans. Jolly good show. However, with Sicko, the characters are real and the villains aren’t edited to look more sinister than they are. The problem is serious and, of course, so is Moore.

Now, I’m not a fan of Michael Moore but, like Jesus or Death Note, I despise the fanbase more than anything and am willing to hear the guy out and see if he’s got anything I should be interested in. I’ve read the comments online and it’s shameful to see such blatant ethnocentrism hidden by goading the bad grammar kids for bashing their false idol. Yes, maybe the healthcare is far better or worse somewhere else. Yes, maybe we’re the worst country blah blah Bush is an asshole New York Yankees. Yes, maybe Moore is a fat liberal douche whathaveyou. However, I suspect that none of these people have seen the movie in question.

Sicko isn’t the sequel to Fahrenheit 9/11. Sicko addresses the shananegans of healthcare and insurace corporations in charge of the coverage of the average American and how it’s all one big money game. This shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone if you’re already a cynic like I am, but at least there wasn’t a documentary of this caliber about it and Moore’s the right man for the job. While the movie and its patrons might come to a debate on whether or not we should vote for a universal healthcare system or not, it’s vital to understand that even if our currency could withstand that, this country will not stand for such an outcome. Our founding fathers loved money just the same and they’d do the same thing; Racism and sexism will always take a backseat to classism. It’s a depressing but sometimes necessary experience to sit down and ponder just what kind of a place this is for people who don’t make it into the higher class. “Give me your tired, your sick, your poor.”

Let’s face it, the healthcare problems light shone upon don’t matter to people who can afford to cheat death, which then begs the question: Does healthcare work or is it a front to keep people at bay while the fortunate cover themselves? And reflecting on that question begs another: Is this movie brainwashing me with its superior editing? But I digress. The problem, as I said is serious, and the movie puts a chill down your spine, if your spine is anything like mine (I used to be able to recommend a good network chiropractor for that but now I think he was just bilking my mom for cash ever since I learned about reiki). Getting out of the fearful diatribe about US healthcare and its many horror stories and going back to the movie, its quality is also something you’ve come to expect from Michael Moore. Not everything in the movie is the truth. Not everything is a lie either, but the man’s a known trickster with a great talent for directing and editing that it’s hard to be sure without doing your own research. Fortunately, such a movie gives people the chance to debate their neighbors into submission and research things for themselves.

Michael Moore is, without a doubt, a marvelous filmmaker. It might not be for the awful truth he gives us in pill form, it might not be for the illusion of reality all good directors weave before us, and it might not even be due to his extreme propagandist editing style, but one thing can always be counted on when you watch a Michael Moore film: You feel something. You feel proud or enraged. You want to do something that matters. Even if you’re being lied to, you’re being triggered like the dogs you are and the bell is telling you to care about your future and the future of your children. When the message hits home, the film does its job. No director worth his salt could ask for more. Sicko’s a movie worth seeing but never expect the hollywood happy ending from this man and you’ll be fine. 4.1 out of 5 thumbs up.

@the.world

I was standing outside in the hot wind as Rusty stared down all the feral cats that roam around my complex when I got to thinking: What’s this life about? I sat out there without any pants on in the thinker pose, wondering what life would be like without needing the money of other people. You know, beat your own food, build your own shelter, woo the ladies with your manly musk. But, I said to my dog, I said “Rusty… Even if I were in a magical mysterious time with pixies and shit, I’d be the guy killing all the pigs.” He just limped back to the house and I scratched the idea. No. I don’t wanna go back in time before 401ks and credit scores. Well, I mean, I do, but I’d rather fast forward this shit. I have to admit that bright lights and eletronic money appeal to me much more.

I wish I were in the AD Police. I mean, the cyberpunk scene is too much fun. The terminology is all crass and vulgar, everything looks like Portland Street in Hong Kong, the music is synth’d out Billy Idol, the girls are either bald or have mohawks, and the whole city’s connected to the infrastructures of invisible worlds running on energy and data. Straight up, our world would be better off either with no technology or nothing but. And since I can’t see myself living without Not4Chan, I’m opting for the latter. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a system where a good heart and merits earn you your right to lifewithout miles of red tape and forms but… the internet. So, instead, a future dystopian world where you’re plugged into the matrix is something I’m interested in.

Ponder this, choobs; you’re walking back to your beat-up Salvador ‘86 luxury muscle from the club, which looks exactly like the one from The Terminator, when some yakuza punk steps up to you and pulls out a fiberglass switchblade. He starts yammering on about how you were cozying up this girl and you just laugh. That’s when a green laser in the shape of a happy anime cloud appears on the guy’s forehead and he backs off because he knows what that means. Sometimes, these posergangs are packing and you don’t dick around with ‘em or you get zeroed if you get my drift. Just so happens that girl you were cozying with is the daughter of the president of the programming firm you’re a collar for. Saved your small life, pal, and that’s dandy, but now you owe the cat a favor. You sigh and continue walking to your car and the chump runs. You start the car with a retinal scan and the girl, revealing herself on the club’s rooftop, fires at your windshield. A tiny dart projects an ascii image of the girl’s number and a message that reads “I ain’t a cheap date.” Shit, you realize, that girl stole my creds. Shit, you wonder, I was probably better off with the yak and his flimsy box cutter.

Man, I’m in the mood to watch eXistenZ or read some Snow Crash right about now, but I should sleep. I got a 4th interview at Starbucks tomorrow I can’t be late for… or can I?