For Dana

Dana this post is 100% for you. I wish I had a good video to post for you. But I don't.

Still - this one is for you!

Fes

Internet is shotty at best. Paige and I are taking turns hijacking the wifi. Right now is my turn - but I have to make it quick.

Morocco is an utterly amazing place. It's beautifully breathtaking but heartbreaking and depressing at the same time. It really is nothing short of magical. The people are open and friendly and walking through the old city, I feel like I'm in Aladdin. I can't wait to spend the next two days here and see even more of what Fes has to offer.

This certainly won't be the last time I come back.

Updates to come soon!

Leather tanning!

Back to Espania

Lisbon was fantastic. Beyond what I could have ever imagined. Whenever I was younger and thought of Europe, I always wanted to see Portugal. I never had rhyme or reason but I now know my gut was right.

Lisbon is just like a European San Fran. Hilly. Twisty roads. Beautiful buildings. Even a replica of the Golden Gate Bridge that crosses their bay. This certainly won't be last time there. That's a promise.

Next, after a quick pit stop in Seville- Morocco!

Lisbon

Sorry I haven't bee posting pictures much. Been out and about exploring.

We made it here safe - although the car took the brunt of the drive. Couple popped clutches, loud, stuttering starts, and me pleading for it to stop acting like a bitch - but we're in Lisbon.

AMAZING place. I've only been out during the night thus far, but I can tell already this is on par with Paris - which all of you know I adore.

I'll get you up to snuff later this evening...maybe.

Portugal We Cometh

Welp - off to Portugal we go! Look out Lisbon.

After the 4+ hour drive I'm either going to be amazing driving manual or I'm going to run that transmission into the ground.

Lets hope it isn't the later.

I'm Alive in Barcelona

For all of those who haven't heard from me - don't worry. I'm alive in Barcelona. Flights got screwed up because of an emergency landing in AZ on the way to London for a sick baby so I spent the night in jolly ol' London. So I got pushed back a day but I'm on schedule now. I wish I could have been in touch sooner but free wifi apparently doesn't exist in Europe.

Fun fact(s):
1. Time lapses in Heathrow airport are fun.

2. Blogging from a phone sucks.

3. Barcelona is very pretty from the plane.

And Away We Go

So it's here. The trip. I leave tomorrow. To say I'm excited is a little bit of an understatement. I'll be in four new countries, two continents. There is no possible way for this trip to suck (knock on wood).

But with it being the eve of when I depart, I thought I'd play around a little bit. Have a little fun. Test something out. So I did.

All for your enjoyment.

So I took 796 photos. Strung em' together. Did some editing in Final Cut. Found a good song. Combined everything. Threw it up online.

Boom.

Express Packing Time Lapse from Andrew Kalicki on Vimeo.


                                                                                                                    Adios!

Song of the Day (Many Shades Of Black) 12.14.12

Welp, we made it to another one! It couldn't have made it any sooner.

I'll apologize for this last week - posts were sporadic at best and stories were lacking (is substance and occurrence). I've just been burnt out. Blah.

Anywho - who cares, it's Friday right!? Let's kick it off right - with some lovely music.

Song one is just shows how wonderful Jack White really is. It's not enough that he formed The White Stripes and is one of the best living guitarists - no - he has to have 1000 side projects going on at once. This just happens to be one of them, The Raconteurs, "Many Shades of Black." Something about it just sounds older - like The Stones or Clapton could have sang it during their prime.




The next song just continues on my recent addiction to folk rock. I'll always think of senior year in college when I hear this - its just one of those songs that was always playing in my house. This is The Felice Brother's "Frankie's Gun."




This last song just feels appropriate. The weather is getting colder (don't worry - it's actually in the 40's here tonight in LA) and the Christmas Tree is up in all its glory in the lobby at work (real might I add, and smellin' mighty fine). It's just time to celebrate a bit early - right? Growing up, this was one of my all time favorite holiday tunes. No it isn't a classic, but I still love it. I swear it was always on Christmas Eve, when the fire was roarin' and everyone was just relaxing before bed. Bruce and the guys just sound like they're having so much damn fun.




                                                                                                                             4

Keep Those Vids Comin'

Alright - this week is already turning into a long one. Thankfully its the last one for a while. Score!

I'm not writing tonight. I just don't have it and rather than put something down that doesn't have my heart and soul in it, I'll give you some more videos.

This first one is again, one of pure magic. I was lucky enough to spend an extended period in Northern Cali this summer, in and around San Francisco and completely fell in love with the area. I've said it before and I'll say it again - when I'm older, there is no doubt that I'll end up there. Everything about it is wonderful. The city, the burbs, the weather - hell, it's even green. And I'm not just talking little pockets here or there like in Los Angeles, but actual, lush green areas. Oh right and it rains. For living in LA for almost three years (holy cow) - I never expected I'd miss rain as much as I do. Thankfully, it is actually drumming against my roof at the moment. But anywho - I spent time up there and loved it. Unfortunately, due to scheduling, I wasn't able to explore the Redwood forests that are famously known. But the following filmmaker was. Can you guess what style this piece is going to be? Time lapse perhaps? Oh - you're so good! The nice aspect of this video is that it has a lot of movement to it, so you don't feel restricted. You get a better sense of the forest, as if you were really there. Also, the lushness of the vegetation is breathtaking. I don't think other than a rain forest in Puerto Rico have I ever witness such vibrant hues of green.




This second video is just pure fun. Pure nerd, pure geek fun. I won't lie - I totally consider this a guy movie. Two years ago I read a script for a film called Pacific Rim and for the lack of a better term - I completely lost my shit. It was amazing. Everything I wanted to see in a film. Giant monsters fighting giant robots. Yes, I know what that sounds like - cheesy. Well I promise you it isn't (ok, yes, there is plenty of cheese in there), but give it a chance. Growing up I was addicted to monster movies, to the point that before I was 12, I think I had seen every Godzilla movie. Back then the effects were pretty awful by todays standards, so to see a movie that has the same giant monsters, fighting humans in giant machines, with the amazing effects of today, how could I not get excited?

Oh, did I also mention it is directed by Guillermo Del Toro - who made arguably (in my mind) one of the best ten films of last decade, Pan's Labyrinth? Throw that into the mix and you're in for something special. But wait! It gets better. Someone I work with busted his ass for weeks cutting a trailer for it and that is what you're going to see below. So congrats to Adam and congrats to Trailer Park. Just do yourself a favor and watch it full screen and in glorious 1920x1080 HD.

And no - I'm not using this as inspiration for my trip...I don't have the budget.




                                                                                                                             5

Lose Yourself In Colors

Alright, so as you all know, my trip is coming up. It really snuck up on me. I swear a couple days ago it felt as if there was still two whole months stretched out before me - taunting me. But alas, here we are. Under a week. Am I excited? Yup. Anxious? Yup. Nervous? Yup. But it is all good. Every single piece of it. I honestly can't wait.

Combine my excitement with some frisbee playing and you're going to have an end result that is pure cinematic bliss. Believe it or not, I've been studying since I first made this trip official. No, not my spanish - which I have been doing every night - but my cinematography. My filmmaking. My art. I don't mean to sound pretentious at all, but this is really important to me. Ever since I first started shooting, I've loved film and photography because it captures a moment - makes it yours (less so now that we are headed toward digital). Yes, we all have our memories. People say they last a life time - which they do, but they break down after a while. Get hazy. Pieces are lost. With film - you actually have something in your hands. Physical, chemical proof it happened. Unfortunately, I'm not rich, so I can't shoot my trip on film - although if I could - believe me, I would. So digital is my next choice. I already know I'll remember this trip for the rest of my life, but I want to make something that I can pop in, if I want to relieve it. Turn on my computer or TV and just be in the moment. No one will be able to relate to it as much as I can, but I want it to move others if they watch it. Get as much of an experience out of it as I did.

I want my work to be beautiful all the way to the core.

So I've been watching techniques. Plowing through films. Time lapses. Photo exhibits. Watching music videos for inspiration. I've shot test footage around my neighborhood - getting strange looks from people because I have a camera strapped to my chest. 100% it's all been worth it.

And tonight I'd like to share two with you:

The first piece is just gorgeous. A man set out to film a time lapse of the leaves changing color in New York. How is that possible? Since it takes almost two months and no camera battery lasts that long, no memory stick is that large, or no way some random person would walk off with the camera? Well he went out, about every two weeks, and shot footage, in the same spots, during the same hours of the day and combined them on his computer, with the help of some programs. Yes - this wasn't done all in camera, but it is ok. The filmmaker never claims that it was, so it can't be called cheating. For now, lets just label it as "creative" (ways you can tell some CGI was used: leaves on the ground never move or disappear and the sky is always clear....in New York? Yeah right). Still a ridiculous amount of work which culminates in an utterly beautiful piece.

Fall from jamie scott on Vimeo.


Next is another film by North Face (the same company that did the mountain climbing/skiing video I posted last week). Buckle yourself in, because this is another long one - almost twenty minutes, but you'll know what direction it is headed in early on. There are plenty of moments your mouth will hang open - wondering how the men in the video have the courage to do what they do. I love how they throw in a little family life and mix between color and black and white. The color palettes juxtapose each other marvelously and add weight to the shots each time it changes. It really grabs yours attention. Throw in a couple amazing close up and you have a pretty complete package. Even if you don't watch the whole thing - it is worth skimming through just for the images.




                                                                                                                             6

Painful Reign

The ground was rumbling beneath her feet. She could feel the soles of her sandals vibrating against her skin. There was shouting. Lots of it. Rising up from below her. Hundreds if not thousands of mouths all competing for attention. Raised to the air, bellowing out commands, cheers, and questions.

All her life she had lived with her aunt and uncle, along the outskirts of the city. Her neighborhood was built upon rows and rows of sodden homes. Raised from the same dirt that covered the streets. Lost among the beggars and pleaders. It was always a normal life. She didn't know anything else. Those around her were just normal people, like herself. Born into the world without much. But it didn't matter. They survived on what they were fortunate enough to have - roofs over their heads, food, and loved ones to carry them through each day. There wasn't anything else they needed. At the time, she didn't know she was special.

Before she could remember, she had been sent away. Her mother and father were nothing but a memory in her head built from stories she had heard from others, put together from words. There were no pictures. No images in her mind. But whenever she thought of them, they were stunning. Her mother was extravagant - radiating beauty. Her father was as chivalrous as the knights of lore. She missed them, but was never ashamed - because she loved them as they were in her mind. And nothing would keep them from coming back for her.

But now here she stood, not sure as to why she was there, tucked below the railing of some building, standing between her aunt's legs. The crowd below her was louder than before. She could feel their unease slowly building. They wanted answers as much as she did. Looking up, she made eye contact with her aunt, pleading for an explanation through her stare. Her aunt squeezed her shoulder and mouthed "it's time."

And before she could do anything, she was in the air, cradled in her aunt's hands, raised high enough for all those standing below her to see. There were many more than she had ever imaged. Thousands upon thousands spread out before her. Looking up at her. Cheering and smiling. The tension in the air had all but gone, replaced with joy. To her left, she could see her uncle, silencing the crowd with gestures - finally beginning to speak when the last few people below calmed. She could hear his voice bellowing out above them all, reaching all ears.

The girl before them was the princess - now their queen. She had been in hiding since birth - her parents fearing for her life from an unknown enemy that had been drawing nearer everyday. She was next in line for the throne, to fill the space her parents left. There was no need to worry - her parents had led the city through its golden age and she would lead the same - to glory. It was her time was now. As she hung there in the air, she couldn't comprehend it all. The people. The power. The wealth. The responsibility.

But more importantly, she couldn't comprehend that her parents would never come for her.

                                                                                                                             7

Billy Boy

I just love everything about this man.

Song of the Day (Adrift) 12.07.12

Happy Friday everybody!

Hope your week has gone by swimmingly. Let's just say I'm glad mine is over.

Today's songs are on the mellower side. It was a long week. A tiring week. Drained all my energy. Its nice knowing I only have one more to go before I get to shut my brain off and relax.

1.) "Adrift" by Jack Johnson. Perfect song to glide into Friday listening to. Sorry for the video. It's rather um - not good. It was either this version or a live video, which didn't sound as good.




2.) "February Stars" by The Foo Fighters. Mind you - this is the live, acoustic arrangement. I think it is amazing how pure and clean they sound and I much prefer this version over what they recorded in the studio.





Happy listening!


                                                                                                                           12

Man With A Plan

Oy - what a day! Better yet, what a week.

Is it over yet? Thankfully its Friday. And with this Friday, I bring you some great videos - three to be exact. But don't worry, none of them are 27 minutes long like last week. Strangely enough though, all of these pieces deal nature in one way or another. Seems fitting I suppose since I have a love of the outdoors and try to live pretty green.

The first piece is just a little beauty. I saw it earlier, maybe on Tuesday, and just became enamored with the concept, shot composition, and tone. I'll find it hard to believe if you can watch this and not agree with how gorgeous it is - the colors, balance, and perspectives. Back when I was in school, I shot a piece that focused on the little things in life, man-made and of nature. While I didn't juxtapose the images directly, like below, they did stand out from one another - dictated by the pacing of the piece. When I first saw "Neighborhood" I smiled. It immediately brought me back to my piece - shooting in the rain upstate in Ithaca. I feel connected to this because I've shot something so similar to it. Hopefully you find the little things in life, that we often times gloss over as beautiful as I do.




This next piece, "Damnation" is a film that is all grant funded - how cool is that? Sure, they also had some assistance from Patagonia (one of the most Earth-concious companies around), but the crew went out and earned this money, by proving their cause and purpose of the film. To be honest, I've never heard of Dam Busting before, but now that I think about it - it makes perfect sense. Do I think we need to go out and strike down all the dams in the country? Absolutely not - we certainly need some of the power they provide for us. That much can't be ignored. I was concerned they were going on a witch hunt, with too broad of a view, but I'm glad they briefly dialed in on that they are only going after the older dams, that aren't in use. Enough politics though. I won't go on a long spiel - but come on, this trailer is gorgeous. I need to find a group like this, go out, and shoot. In the woods, in the water. Climb some hills. God - look at all that green. I really need to get my ass up to Washington.

DamNation | Trailer from FELT SOUL MEDIA on Vimeo.


Shit man. This guy has it together. I'm not going to elaborate on the piece. But it gets my gears spinnin'. Maybe I should just pack up my things, gather all my photo, video, and film equipment and just get the hell out of dodge for a year. Travel. See the world. And just shoot, shoot, shoot. Of course - this won't come for a little while (have to save up funds for something so extreme). But I've got time, I'm still young. I absolutely love the blurb about the video, "short films about people who do what they love."

Dammit Scott. Why must you be so awesome.

Scott Soens, Photographer from Patagonia on Vimeo.


                                                                                                                           12

A Place To Call Home

The last couple of nights had been the hardest. It always was when winter was right knocking on the front door.

When the sun went down, everything completely changed. The forest no longer looked inviting and full of life. Winds blew against the sides of the cabin, testing its foundation. Trees scraped the walls, dragging their gnarled fingers along the surface - echoing throughout the empty rooms. Creatures came out of their burrows - searching for food, shelter from the elements, somewhere warmer to sleep than a hole in the Earth. They often came knocking, trying to find a way in, hoping to take residence. When it rained, moisture would seep into the pores of the cabin, causing it to bloat - trying to make it crack.

It knew it wouldn't be long until they'd come back. That if it kept fighting on, staying strong, it would make it.

There had never been a year that didn't include a weekend getaway. When the cabin was at its proudest - filled with the smells of steaming coffee, lingering smoke from the wood stove, and freshly cut pine. It tickled the senses. A perfect combination of the season. They'd make themselves at home again, even if for such a short period, dancing upon the wood floors - hanging decorations, gingerly placing ornaments upon the tree, wrapping presents when the other wasn't looking. Mornings were filled with laughter and breakfasts in bed. Hot cocoa overflowed with marshmallows. Their company added a warmth to the walls of the cabin. A glow that couldn't be matched by anything else - except maybe a perfectly stoked fire.

It loved when they were there. The smiles on their faces always gave away how excited they were to see it. Never disappointed. There wasn't a moment that it didn't feel appreciated.

Until they returned, it missed them. Missed their touch. Socks gliding across the floor, hands on the doors of the kitchen cabinets, rooting for the perfect cup for tea, the pressure of them lying in bed together, holding each other close. It never intruded, never peeked, respecting its guests, but it was always present, making sure they were secure and warm, never needing an extra blanket - protected from the world outside.

Waiting for them always seemed like an eternity. At times it just wanted to give up. Let the elements get the better of it. Fighting everything was exhausting. The stress way always mounting. Snow always came before they did - piling up on the roof, trying to push it down. Testing its endurance.

But it was all worth it when it saw headlight beams dancing over the crest at the end of the driveway. The moment the car doors opened and it heard their voices, the excitement started to kick in. They always ran towards the door - excited to get inside, lost in the dark. The crunching of the snow beneath their feet teased it, signifying how close they actually were. The moment the front door opened, all was right.

For it's family had returned.

                                                                                                                           13

God Particles

It had first begun on the news. Reports had come into the local stations saying that the government had recently moved out into the desert, setting up temporary camps. They were testing something. Most assumed it must be a new kind of weapon. Biological, thermonuclear, napalm. No one knew the dates of the experiment, but all assumed it was the night the sky caught on fire. Late one evening, without warning, the sky exploded - blotting out the moon and all the stars. The haze lingered for a few minutes, before fading away. Plunging the town back into darkness.

The event left people wondering what it could have been. Trees on the edge of town were scorched. Their leaves burned around the edges. Windows in some homes had burst in - windshields on car cracked. But no one had felt an aftershock. There was no loud explosion. It was if a massive bolt of lightning had come down from the heavens, muted from the world.

People begun to get scared when military personal started showing up a few days later - poking through yards, underneath vehicles, routing through garbage bins. They wore thick goggles and face masks, guns strapped to their hips. None of them said a word. No one acknowledged the residents of the town. If anyone approached, they'd continue to stare ahead. Not to be bothered. At night, a different group came out of the vehicles, dressed in white jumpsuits. They could be seen collecting samples off of different surfaces from around the town, placing them in thick, double-sealed bags before retreating back to their mobile bases.

There was no warning. No signs. One day, they were gone. Packed up without leaving a trace.

The people of the town didn't know what to do. Should they assume the worst and leave, following the example for the military, or were they reading too much into things? Some people left - fearing something sinister was headed for the town. Unfortunately for everyone else who stayed - the people who left were right.

It was only a day or two before the news stations began reporting something was forming in the desert. Meteorologists refused to call it a storm. Pulsing as it grew on the radar, swirling back and forth. There was no predictable pattern. It moved like a living organism with a purpose - searching for something. Soon the normal news stopped. Replaced by government talking heads that swore everything was going to be fine. It was just a rogue sand storm that would soon break apart.

But the suits had lied.

As they stood there, looking out at the swirling wall that was moving closer, there really wasn't much they could do. It was imposing. Stretching further than they could see.

Higher than they dared to imagine.

                                                                                                                           14

Swept Away

It had been so long since fresh water had touched his lips. He was beginning to see things. Hear things. Feel things. The sun had been relentless, beating down on him every minute of everyday. His skin was raw. Cracked and peeling. Hair that was once brown was now a light shade of blonde - doing its best not to combust in the heat. He had done all he could to protect his face - using his shirt as a mask. At first, he would wet it in the sea water and drape it over his head, but he soon learned that technique was worse than just sitting in the sun. As the water evaporated, it left behind a thick layer of salt - coating his skin, leaving him stiff and uncomfortable. Sucking all the moisture out of his pores.

Everything had happened so fast. No one was really sure what really happened. He was jarred from his sleep, to find people running from their cabins to the top deck. In passing, he thought he heard someone say that the reef wasn't properly marked or a murmur that the captain had drank a bit too much rum. As he strained to listen, all he heard was the wood below his feet continue to creak and moan under some unknown stress. At times he swore he could feel it splintering deeper below, closer to the heart of the ship.

By the time he had made it to the deck, chaos had broken loose. People were screaming. Scrambling back and forth, trying to launch the life boats as quickly as possible. To his right, someone was pleading for help. A large container had tipped over, pinning one of the stewards beneath it, who just kept yelling, for anyone to pay attention. But no one did. Their own lives were more important. As he stood there watching what was going on around him, he began to slide along the deck and realized the ship was begin to pitch. Water had started bubbling up through the grates that led to the cargo hold.

They were sinking. The sea was trying to swallow them whole.

Before he could even react to what he was seeing, the entire boat shuddered - testing his balance. As he turned around to try and find the cause the tremor - he had no time to react as the mast crashed into him.

When he woke up, it was because his lungs were on fire. His body was begging for air - clawing at his insides - pleading for him to inhale. Throwing his head back and gulping, he was relieved to feel air dive into his throat, down into his core. He tried to look around, but his eyes stung too much. The salt of the ocean had seeped in and taken its toll. When his vision finally came back, all that floated nearby was a large piece of wood and a couple loose pieces of the ship. Off in the distance he could see a few bodies bobbing up and down - now only buoys to mark their ship's final resting place.

Of course he screamed. Until his throat could take no more. Until he could taste blood. There was no one else out there. Just him and the waves.

He hadn't slept much. Hunger kept him up. Thirst drove him crazy. His skin prayed for protection - the tiniest bit of shade. He had lost all track of time - how many days had come and gone. Direction was something of the past. He just floated along aimlessly, wherever the debris decided to take him. When he opened his eyes in the morning, he was relieved to see land off in the ditance. A beach littered with spots to escape the sun. Coconuts hung from the tops of palm trees - teasing his stomach.

As he drifted closer, he swore he was seeing things. Outlines of men on the beach, looking out at him. Their skin was painted with dyes and they held spears above their heads - thrusting them up into the air. It looked like they were dancing, waiting for him to wash up on shore.

Was this just the sun playing tricks on him?

                                                                                                                           15

Song of the Day (Mr. Dylan) 11.30.12

We've made it to another one! And believe it or not, with this Friday, comes the end of November. Man, where has this year gone? I thought life slowed down after college, not sped up.

But enough about that. Let's get into the music.

When I was growing up, I was fortunate enough to be raised in a house that always had music playing. All hours of the day, all activities - during dinner every night, as background noise during the day, when we were decorating the Christmas tree every year, etc. I honestly can't really remember a time music wasn't on for the majority of the day. 

And. I. Absolutely. Loved. It.

Because of this, music is such an important part of my life. It helped shape me into who I am today. Honestly, I don't think I could survive without it. Luckily for me, since I was exposed to it so young, for the entirety of my life, I grew up listening to some of the greatest of all time, The Beatles (duh), Elton John, Jimi Hendrix, Cream, Joni Mitchell, The Who, David Bowie, Janis Joplin, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Queen, The Supremes, Pink Floyd. The list goes on and on. But there was one artist I looked forward to possibly hearing everyday.

Mr. Bob Dylan.

My god is that man so wonderful. His lyrics are other worldy. So deep and powerful. His rhythms just infect you, right down to the core. He didn't just sing or perform for the money and fame. No - he was there to make a point, to make a change. And did he ever.

Today is dedicated to him and everything he's not only done for music, but for the world.

It's almost impossible to pick out favorites when talking about Dylan - his library is just so massive and wonderful. But here are three of them.

I absolutely adore this song. I don't know how anyone couldn't. It's great. But the best part of it? When Bob laughs throughout, around the 47 second mark and also at 1:30.

And of course - the mecca of Bob Dylan.

Happy listening.

                                                                                                                           19

Video-palooza

It's just one of those weeks. So, I thought I'd throw it back to the older days, when videos ruled Friday. It's a trade off. No stories - but plenty of visual stimulation. Don't worry though - I've got some good ones up my sleeve this time.

Video one is right in line with what I posted last week,"Kluge." First, it is another huge Rube Goldberg machine. Secondly, it is human powered - much like the last one, just a little more physically oriented (free running/parkour based). And finally - it is sponsored by Redbull. Now, this may not be as polished as the previous videos, but the complexity of the machine and scale is impressive. Rather than being spread out like the Kluge, while still in a warehouse, this machine is much more condensed and requires many more contraptions between each larger piece. It really is a bit absurd to think about these people running through this obstacle course, not getting hurt. Especially when you see how they use shipping containers at the end. Absolutely nuts!




Video two is just down right awesome. Yes it is pretty. Nice color saturation. Good usage of depth of field. But to be honest I'm not in it for the production quality - this video is wonderful because it is from Ithaca. It's a great concept for a short documentary piece. I love the question they ask and who they interview. Sure there are the serious answers mixed in with some goofy ones, but what can you expect. Best response? Dude in the green beanie. He gives the absolute perfect answer, "I don't want to to spoil anything." It's really interesting and fun to think about. Do you know what you'd ask?

Good job IC - way to make us proud.




Video number three is something I was shown at film school in one of my classes. It's absolutely awesome. I won't get into a lot of detail and just let it engross you. Be ready to cut out a chunk of your day though - this is a short film that was actually up for an Oscar and clocks in at a whopping 27:00 minutes. If you end up liking this in anyway, consider watching "In Bruges" or "Seven Psychopaths," since it is the same director. Yes its sick. Yes its twisted. But hey - it's Irish!

All I have to say is exploding cow.

SIX SHOOTER (Dir. Martin McDonagh, 2004) from CAJ on Vimeo.

                                                                                                                           19

Night Flight

The only time he could manage to make it to the ledge was during the late hours of the night, sneaking between the shadows that stretched out across the ground - trying to stay out of the glow of the moon hanging drunkenly above. It surprised him how comfortable he felt in the dark. His eyes had always adjusted quickly - pupils dilating, soaking in as much light as possible. As he ran forward, the ground seemed to glide below him. He couldn't feel the dirt underneath his sandals, but he could hear it grinding against his soles. He was moving too fast. Lost amongst the abyss of the night.

When he was growing up, the older boys would always wander down to the edge after school or in the hot haze of afternoon weekends. It wasn't just for fun or refreshment, it was a right of passage. Other boys their age all had done it and were welcomed into the group. The few who didn't, were cast out, heckled, made fun of. Everyone did it. So he had to. Thats just how things were.

It was only a couple weeks until he was the same age. But because he was smaller, younger looking, one of the last remaining boys, he took the brunt of the ridicule. They teased him at school, in town, whenever they could. Saying he was scared to jump. He'd be one of those who wouldn't do it - never fit in. They had told him stories. Boys in the past who had jumped in, landed wrong and never came back to the surface. He heard of deep swelling currents that if he wasn't careful, would sweep him away. Certain spots were deeper than others. If he didn't jump out far enough, he'd land on a rock that was hiding just below the water - breaking him as he broke the surface.

All of these scared him. But not as much as simply jumping in front of his peers.

He knew he didn't need their acceptance. It was just a stupid routine they put everyone through - their own form of hazing. But he wasn't doing it for them. It wasn't like his leap would change how he was seen amongst them. He didn't even want to be part of their group. This was going to show them. His own was of standing up and facing them. Proving himself.

As he stood on the edge looking down, he could barely see the water. Only tiny reflections of the moon played off the surface as if someone had thrown a handful of glitter down below. During the day, the height seemed daunting. Now, it seemed like he'd be in the air forever. Like a cruel joke. Falling and never reaching the bottom. It was now or never though. Backing away from the edge, he took off his shirt and sandals, tucking them away between some rocks. Before him, the stars lit the perfect runway for him to follow to his flight.

Taking a deep breath, his legs began carrying him forward.

As he launched himself into the air, he swore for a second he was flying - just floating there, as high as the moon. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Their taunting, the water that waited below. He felt free, ready for the water to envelope him.

He hadn't even landed and he wanted to do it again.

                                                                                                                           20

Nature Is A Wonderful Thing

Alright, I'm throwing it out there right off the bat. There is going to be no story tonight womp womp. Long day at work + Ultimate frisbee = one tired blogger.

But I do have some videos for you - so don't fret!

Looking around the interwebs today, I found two short pieces that showcase how awesome the world is - more specifically nature. Sitting back and just watching these, it's pretty amazing what goes on around us.

The first piece is actually from the company North Face and showcases the scope of our planet as well as the different cultures spread throughout it. While I'm not exactly sure what the main feature is going to be about (maybe hiking or skiing), I still really love this piece. Favorite aspect of this? The transitions between shots. How the camera literally "falls" into the next - rising up to show you a whole new scene. Amazing stuff. Can't wait for the full length version.

Into The Mind - Official Teaser from Sherpas Cinema on Vimeo.


The second piece is completely different. It showcases the power of animals - specifically cheetahs. Watching the video below, really puts in perspective how amazing the animal kingdom is. This is the first time a cheetah was able to be caught in high definition slow motion. Their movement is absolutely jaw dropping - how the hind legs come as far forward as the front shoulders - seeing every muscle twitch and flex. They just seem to float along in the air.With so much grace. Almost playful. I'm amazed how still their head remains as the rest of their body is in motion - such focus. Mind you - the music is a bit much, but it kind of gets drowned out by the footage.

Another cool aspect of this video? During the credits you get to see how they arranged the shoot. Also, here is a fun fact: the typical film we see at the movies is shot at 24 frames per second. To catch a cheetah moving at 60+ miles per hours, at the speed below, they needed to use a camera that shot 1200 frames a second. Thats so much footage for what probably lasted all of 10 seconds in real life.




                                                                                                                           21

Midnight Melody

He was never quite sure how long it was between when his eyelids closed and he heard her calls off in the distance

Every night he waited for his mother to close the door behind her, plunging the room into darkness. Before she even reached the squeaking floorboards of the stairs, he would have the comforter over his head and be curled up in a ball, eyes shut tight. Each night it was the same. Sometimes it took him a while to drift asleep, other nights, he wouldn't even hear his mother reach the bottom of the stairs.

But every time, he would wake up to her bellowing voice, welcoming him into her world.

It was never too hot or too dry out on the plain. There was always a constant wind swirling about, kicking up small puffs of sand that licked his skin, tickling him as they dispersed in the air. He never needed any lights - the moon illuminated the sky around him in a dull haze. A warm glow that always hung above him. By now, he knew where to go. He just needed to follow her lead. She was never too far off - most times he could see her waiting off in the distance, but he felt secure knowing the stars were above him, ready to guide the way were he to need them. The walk never took too long - the sand cool between his toes, wind playing with his bangs. No matter how many times he met her, the song was always different, as mesmerizing as the night before.

When he finally made it to her, he'd just stand there, waiting for the song to end. It resinated from deep within her core, shaking the air around her body, almost shimmering. He could feel the vibration leaving her body and entering his, messaging and nestling itself deep into his muscles and soul.

Regardless if she was mid verse, she always managed to welcome him with a smile. Large and warm. She always looked so beautiful, just floating in the air. Graceful. As if the ocean was still embracing her. When she was done with her song, they would just relax. Two souls lost in the desert.

They never spoke. Never muttered any words. They understood and appreciated each other. He loved spending his night listening to her music, carried away on the echoing melodies while she adored his never waning attendance. He was the only one who every listened to her and she was grateful. Her perfect audience.

When the night was over and it was time for him to emerge from his sheets, he'd trace his steps back through the sand, towards where he came. Yet every night, even though he left, she'd keep singing, staying with him until the final moments. Sometimes he'd have to stop and listen, for it'd sound like she was weeping. Crying and pleading for him to come back. But each time, he'd realize she was just wishing safe travels.

Bidding him farewell until the next night, when she'd be able to perform for him once again.

                                                                                                                           22

New Inspiration

Ok - this is bad.

I just saw this and immediately have a second project I'll work on for my holiday travels. It's kind of a time-lapse - but not like anything I have ever seen before. All pictures. Taken whenever I want. Gaps between abound. Stitched together. I don't have to worry about creating my photos by using a timeline. No no. This time, the timeline is dictated by the photos.

The photos take creative control. They drive the video I put together - not the other way around.

But don't worry, the other time-lapse I've been talking about will still be made. And if you're at all confused by my mumbo jumbo up there, just watch and you'll understand what I mean.

All I can say, honestly, is "holy fuck."

Roadtrip USA from Mike Matas on Vimeo.

Song of the Day (Last Leaf) 11.23.12

Ah, the day after Thanksgiving. Time to root through the fridge and be creative with the leftovers. Do we make a turkey omelette with gravy for breakfast? Maybe the classic turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce sandwich for lunch? I don't even have to suggest dinner, since we all know it'll be leftovers. A whole smorgasbord of them.

So while you're mulling these options over or waiting for the microwave to beep, letting you know your meal is ready, why not cozy up and listen to a few songs?

Yup. Songs of the week. Thanksgiving style (I'm not sure exactly what style that entitles - but it sounds special, so go with it).


This first song, while a bit melancholy, is a wonderful little tune. Great lyrics. Simple melody. Acoustic. It came on in the car earlier in the week and I happened to read the title while I was singing along and it just clicked. As fall comes to a close and winter takes hold, it just seems appropriate to share with you Ok Go's "Last Leaf."




On a much happier note - lets just get right into it. It fits the weather. It's fun - certainly a bit goofy. Make you feel good kinda "jam." Jack Johnson's "Bubble Toes."




And to finish up this week - we'll kick it old school again. Kind of in the same vein as the Alabama Shakes, this next band sounds like they came from a previous era of music. This is The Generationals, "When They Fight, They Fight."




                                                                                                                           26

Nature's Wake Up Call

It had been a long hike. Longer than he had remembered.

He had set out early, just in case he was wrong about hong long it would take him to reach the top. His coffee was finished well before the sun had even begun to brighten the morning sky. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. The houses in his neighborhood were still dark. Everyone was still tucked in - hours to go before the first alarm clocks began to go off. All that lit the path to his car were the remaining stars in the sky.

The terrain wasn't what it once was. Mother Nature had done some remodeling. Knocking down a couple trees, blocking the path with rocks and mounds of dirt. Some of the trail had even been washed away in early spring showers - swept into the river that flowed parallel, to become deposited somewhere else. There was the pleasant smell of wet, rotting leaves seeping from the forest floor. That unique smell of autumn.

The last time he had walked up this way was some time ago. When he was much younger. During the years that energy was still in surplus. He used to bound up the mountain with ease. No problem at all. Now he had to stop every so often to stretch his legs. Loosen them up. They weren't too bad yet - just tight. But he knew they'd complain the next day. Refusing to get out of bed. Moaning on their way down the stairs for coffee. It wasn't something he was looking forward to at all.

But as he stood there, looking out over the land, the sore muscles, blistered toes, and damp boots all became worth it. There really was nothing else like it. He could see for miles. Thousands of trees lined up before him, poking through the early dawn mist, as if they were waving good morning to him. The air was fresh. He could feel the dew in his throat with every breath. The breeze was cool and refreshing. He was in awe of its beauty. How untouched it all looked. Flawless.

And this morning, it was his.

                                                                                                                           26

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone out there!

Tonight will be an abbreviated post - but I hope everyone has a great holiday and eats way more than they need to. Stuff your faces!

To stimulate your senses, since I'm not writing a story, I'm posting the video below. I just happened to stumble upon it recently and was blown away. It's a lot to handle. Constant shots. Constant edits. Great cinematography. Vibrant colors. It takes you on a visual journey around the globe - through plains, over glaciers, between buildings, along coasts.

Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I do.





                                                                                                                           27

Bumpy Journey

It was a real beauty. From a decade on the verge of being forgotten. A time when the designs were larger, smoother, bolder. Just plain boisterous. Its color screamed for attention. Drawing the eye line of anyone in sight. The roar from under the hood startled him the first time him he twisted the key in the ignition. He could feel the power surging through the pedals, into his body. It wanted to be let loose. Out on an open road, where it could really stretch its legs, shake the dust from within its cylinders and show off.

Luckily, thats where they were headed. Out into the hills, to weave in and out of the tree lined hills. Through snow dusted mountains and secluded valleys.

He was ready for an adventure. To be taken on a journey. Let go of everything and just cruise. Not worry about home, work, where he needed to be the next day. Just disappear for a while. Completely off the grid.

Deep down though he was nervous. It had been years since the last time he used a clutch. Eased it in without the gas. Shifting gears smoothly - finding the right notch - that satisfying resistance. The first couple miles had been bumpy. He could smell the clutch burning, hear the gears grinding. Rather than galloping down the road as it should, the car stuttered and shook. Coughing out exhaust every time he slipped.

Back when he was younger, it seemed so much easier. Sitting next to his father, on a barren road in the middle of a desert on an island in the Caribbean, stalling amongst the sand dunes and rocks wasn't such a big deal. It was an old beaten up jeep - its time had come and gone. Now was the time for retirement. It had no prestige to it anymore, only rust and chipped paint. There weren't any cars behind him, honking in frustration. Intersections weren't jammed because he popped the clutch too early. The smell of grinding metal was carried away on every gust of wind. It was just him and clutch.

By now he had started to get the hang of it once again. The engine whined every so often, but only to guide him in the right direction. It wasn't yelling at him anymore. Pleading for him to stop. Yet every time a squeal came from under the hood, he could hear her snickering next to him. Sometimes it'd blend in with the noises of the car, other times it was rather obvious. Even when she tried to hide it, he'd shoot her a look and see the twinkle in her eyes - the rising of her cheeks. He had done her a favor. Agreed to drive the first leg - the most important piece of the journey - pulling out of the rental lot. Not only did he have to deal with her muffled laughter from the seat next to him, but he could see the employees in the rear view mirrors chuckling, turning away as he struggling to get the car to move the ten feet from the parking space to the exit.

It was alright though. Her laughter trickled down into his system and welled up, bringing a smile to his face. It made light of the situation and revealed its absurdity. There wasn't a better copilot he could ask for.

Yet all he was waiting for was the first rest stop, when they could switch and it would be his turn to let his laughter boil over.

                                                                                                                           28

Bottling the Sky

It was a perfect morning to go hunting. One of those bright spring days that rained down, bathing everything in a bright radiance. The clouds hung there, lazily in the air. Plump from the morning dew that had escaped the clutches of the grass and made it into the sky.

He loved their curves. Their whisps. How they could blend together, crashing into one another, merging into something even more beautiful. He had found them early enough that they were still pure - clean from the exhaust and dirt stirred up by the morning commuted. They looked like giant puffs of cotton, ready to be plucked. He just wanted to touch them - become encased by them. Somehow manage to grab hold of one and float away on it - lost in its haze.

His room was filled with them. Glass jars and boxes littered his shelves, bookcases, and desk. Whenever his friends came over, they always asked him what they were for. Never seeming to grasp that they were filled with his collection. What he spent every day on. Hours of his week devoted to.

And what a collection it was.

There were jars filled with churning storms, cascading down the edges of the glass - dark and brooding. Rainstorms that were caught in an endless loop. There was one for every season - including the thin, elongated clouds that were only able to be caught in autumn or the large bulbous towers that littered the sky in the summer months, much like those that hung above him today. When the sun was high in the sky, unbearable to others, he'd escape to his room, holding between his hands any of the jars that held a winter storm - feeling the cold through the glass enclosure. If he dared, he could even open the lid and empty out a small bit of snow on the floor, shuffling his bare feet through it.

Everyday, as he stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen he was greeted by a new jar - sitting on the table, next to his breakfast. His mother knew how much he enjoyed his hobby and only wanted to make him happy. No two jars were ever the same. Some looked old, dumbed down and numb by time and age. Smooth to the touch. Others appeared to be from a foreign land, blown by the most delicate of lungs. Occasionally one bore radical designs - corners that jutted out, colors that were one of a kind. He never knew how his mother found them. Where she journeyed to in order to purchase them. Who she knew.

But every morning, he was thankful.

Because of her, his collection always grew.

                                                                                                                           29

Song of the Day (Talk on Indolence) 11.16.12

So here we are. Again.

Happy Friday to everyone out there. Hopefully your week(s) went swimmingly and you have some fun planned for the upcoming weekend.

But lets be honest, we're here for one thing. It's song of the week time. So let's get into to shall we?

I won't lie. I'm full blown into the Avett Brothers. I can't even call it a kick. I've been completely immersed in them this past week. They sample every style of music; bluegrass, punk, folk, rock and roll (just to name a few). So, it should be no surprise that the first song is by them. The Avett Brothers "Talk on Indolence."




Song number two was a tricky one. It was really a toss up, but "Electric Feel" by MGMT just seemed to fit. "Kids" was a close second, but after the week I had I just wanted something that would pick me up and carry me into the weekend on a high. Hopefully it does the same for you!





Enjoy the weekend!

                                                                                                                           33

Precipitating Memories

When the first few raindrops started to fall, she wasn't concerned. The weatherman had warned of a passing sprinkle. The kind of rain that would lightly dust the skin, only to evaporate a couple seconds later. It was described as refreshing. Brief. Passing.

She had actually been looking forward to it. A temporary escape from how things had been.

The heat of the summer had become unbearable. Shirts clung to her back. Her hair was out of control after a shower, frizzing out in every direction - completely unmanageable. Food no longer carried a taste. Her mouth was too dry. All her body yearned for was liquid. The last time it rained was months ago, just as spring was sneaking out the door, allowing summer to take hold.

As the rain continued falling, she was started by the smell that was wafting from the ground. Faint - but present. It tickled her noise. Brought her to her senses. She had forgotten what it had smelled like. The ozone. The smell of wet concrete. Drops of oil and gasoline that had seeped into the cracks of the asphalt. It was completely intoxicating. Smells that were usually hidden began to bloom as the water continued to soak into different parts of the city. She smelled the forest as the flowers potted along the shop windows opened up, welcoming the precipitation. Her lungs screamed for more of the soil from the trees that sporadically lined the streets.

She was so focused on the scents flooding into her nose that she didn't notice other people running by her - hands held over their heads, protecting themselves with whatever they could. Jackets, newspapers, an occasional briefcase. By the time she looked down, she realized she was completely drenched. The sky above her had cracked wide open, releasing months of built up pressure. The drops that fell were fat and heavy - slamming into the ground with authority. Exploding all around her.

There was nothing left to do but smile. Looking up - it was obvious that there was no sign of it stopping. She was soaked through. All she could do was accept and appreciate. It brought her back to the days when she was a kid, running through the yard with her younger sister only a few steps behind, trying to dodge the drops as they plummeted to the ground. Their parents had created it - told them that since they were smaller, they could squeeze in the crevices between droplets. If they remained dry, they'd win. Too naive to realize losing was inevitable, they played every passing shower. Giggling up their own storm.

Before she could even realize what she was doing, she found herself bounding down the sidewalk, skipping back and forth, zig zagging the best she could between the drops. Smile spread ear to ear. She felt young again, as if her sister was actually there, playing with her.

But this time, because she was already drenched - the game was never ending.

                                                                                                                           33

Kluge

Now - I'm sure they didn't pull this off in one take (I'd put money on it), but I still have to give Red Bull credit for pulling off a Rube Goldberg with such style.

I think its great that they were able to maintain the mechanical, every day object aspect(s) of it, while also throwing in a human element. Don't get me wrong, I don't believe it is as creative as the OK Go version, but this is up there.

It's just plain cool. Friday worthy.




                                                                                                                           33

Morning Blend

It was those cold mornings that he loved the most. When his tea would linger into the air, leaving wisps of smoke to get carried away on the breeze. Regardless if he knew the blend that was seeping in his cup, every time the aroma made it up to his nose, it caught him by surprise. Made him smile. Warm and inviting. The perfect way to start the day.

It'd just be him and the cup. Where, it didn't matter as much. If he could find the space, he'd use his suitcase as a makeshift table. If not, it became a seat. He'd wrap his hands around the china, absorbing the heat from the liquid inside. There wasn't a lot that he carried with him - just the essentials to get by, but he was always sure he had enough matches to start a fire large enough to boil water. And tea of course. Sometimes he'd buy it as he passed through a town, other times he'd collect needles off a pine tree or pick wild evergreen. It had become a routine. A necessity. The day couldn't start without it.

He'd wake up just before the sun was ready to peak over the horizon and pack his things while the water was boiling. It didn't matter if he had slept on the side of the road, in a clearing in the forrest, or a hostel. He was always up and ready before the first few beams announced the beginning of the day. Once the water was ready, he'd find a spot to sit and slowly adjust as the tea leaves released their oils and aromas.

He honestly couldn't even remember the last morning that it wasn't cold. It had been quite some time. He had been on the road longer than his mind could reach back to. He knew it was there, somewhere in the haze of his memory, but he could never find it - the starting point. At times he'd push, further and further, daring it to recall something, but every time it'd come up empty handed. Everyday it was the same thing.

Wake up. Move.

To everyone else he probably just looked like a backpacker. One of those tourists who traveled across the globe. Except, there was no set path. No distinct finishing point. He just wandered. By this point in his travels, he honestly didn't even know what part of Europe he was in. As he bounced around, amongst the changing languages, times, and currency, he stopped trying, and let himself become lost. He just floated along - blending into the masses, accepted by the cultures. Passed off from one to another. Sometimes he'd stop in one place for a few nights, work a manual job, save some money. Buy a nice meal, some water to wash with - sometimes he'd splurge, catching a ferry or bus the next day. He never travelled with a map. Nor did he bother asking for directions.

He just went.

As he sat there, he was pleased to smell the spearmint and lemon grass seeping out of his cup. It was a special blend he had purchased from a small vendor tucked away in the back of a market some time ago. Only to be used at a special moment. And today was different. He had company. Sitting across from him was a young child - her head not much taller than his suitcase when sitting down. She had wandered over right as he was taking his first sip. Without hesitation, he had pulled out his spare cup and poured her some. Nodding, she blew into it for a few moments and brought it her mouth - smiling as the liquid touched her lips. They didn't say anything. Just sat there, enjoying each other's company.

When his suitcase began to rumble - he knew his journey was about to begin again. It wasn't long before the train pulled into station, conductor hanging off the door, announcing the next destination in some tongue he didn't recognize.

Standing up, he packed his things away. Looking down at her, he said "Thank You" the only way he knew how, but she looked back, with a look in her eyes as if she didn't understand, and reached out, offering his spare cup back to him. Humbled, he smiled and waved it off. It was hers to keep.

Maybe someday down the road she'd share her morning with someone else.

                                                                                                                           34

Riding Shotgun

When he returned from his bathroom break in the woods, he didn't expect to find her sitting there waiting for him. Perched up in the van like she belonged there. Her bangs hung over her gleaming eyes, tail wagging. It must have been some time since she had run into someone herself - he could notice the drool starting to form around the corners of her mouth. Her excitement ready to drip out.

At first he simply didn't know what to. He clapped his hands, calling to her. No matter how excited he tried to sound, she remained there, looking at him through her shaggy hair. He tried walking away slowly, trying not to pay attention to her - hoping she would hop down and follow him. No dice. Still, she sat there, not flinching. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a granola bar, its wrapper crinkling between his fingers. Immediately her ears perked up and her eyes glowed.

Bingo.

Slowly unwrapping it in front of her, he could see the drool beginning to drip in between when she licked her lips. Edging towards her, he held out his hand, granola bar towards her. It wasn't long before she started to pitch forward, as if she wasn't even aware that she was doing it. She got to the point that he swore she was going to fall over, out of the van, but before the tumble, she finally realized the position she was in and began fighting it. Her hind legs spread out and her back lowered, anchoring herself. She was almost halfway out of the door, head stretched as far as she could, nipping at the air - still a couple inches from the treat.

This continued for a couple minutes before he finally gave up and began moving towards her, allowing the granola bar to come within reach of her. Before he realized what had even happened, the bar was gone, snatched from his hand. But he was surprised by her politeness. She didn't just scarf it down. She was taking little bites. Savoring it. Making it last.

While she was distracted, he inched closer, until he was able to place his hand on her back - ready for the moment for her to snap at him - protecting her bounty, but it never came. As his fingers ran through her hair, he could feel her muscles begin to loosen - becoming less tense with every stroke. When she was finally done with her meal, she looked up at him, as if to say thank you. Without realizing it, he said "You're welcome."

Maybe he did have room for one more on his journey.

                                                                                                                           35

Emergency Exit Row

Even though they were a couple hundred feet away, he could tell they were miserable. Standing out there in the downpour. Their jackets probably did close to nothing when the rain was coming down sideways. But, regardless of their displeasure, they kept working away. Pushing through the storm. Earning that money to put food on their table. Pay off school. Maybe even save enough to get on a plane one day themselves and see the world.

Looking out from the dry interior of the terminal, everything seemed to trivial to him. As others were outside battling the elements to make sure he was able to continue on his journey he was perfectly content. Sitting there, Starbucks in hand, magazine perched on his lap, and headphones in his ears, he realized something. He was just part of a machine. Every other week he was on a plane, flying to different offices around the world, compiling spreadsheets, checking in and out of hotels, interacting minimally with others. He wasn't really living. He was just coasting along.

And it needed to stop.

Looking up at the terminal sign, it notified him that his flight was already delayed a few hours. He thought about it. He had never really had the time to enjoy this city for as many times as he had passed through it. The time was there. So was the money. There was no rush. He should just get up and go.

So, he did.

He wasn't scared when he walked away from his seat, leaving his bags, his Starbucks, and magazine. It all stayed behind, spread out on the seat. His luggage, wherever it was, didn't matter. As he passed by a garbage, he dropped his ticket in. All he needed to do was find the exit.

He was resetting his life. On his own terms.

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Organic Escape

He couldn't remember when he actually swallowed them. That single moment seemed so far away. Lost amongst a gurgling sea of memories and swirling thoughts. Tucked away somewhere deep in his head. But he did remember how they tasted. How they stuck to his tongue, clinging to his taste buds like they didn't want to go down his throat. The flavor was offensive. Flooding and potent. He wanted to gag. The more he chewed to try and swallow, the worse it got. The texture was like a sponge had been cut up and thrown in his mouth.

Eventually he got them down and he began to relax. His friend who he had bought them from made sure to reiterate that he needed to be calm. In a happy place. Physically and mentally. It just made sense to walk out deep into his family's land, amongst the rolled hay that littered the fields. He had grown up there - run through the meadows and pastures, between the grazing cows, breathed the cool fall air - it felt like home as much as anywhere else.

He found the perfect spot. Flat and open.

When the sky began to melt, all he could do was smile. The world had seemed to stop. Sounds increased, but cancelled each other out - becoming a static in the distance that eventually faded away. His mind cleared. All that mattered were the colors. Above him were brilliant trails, stretching across the sky as far as he could see - as if a thousand snails had passed by, leaving shimmering trails. The sun was brilliant. Burning brightly along the horizon, warming every inch of his skin. Trees glowed around the edges - bright green halos burst from their leaves. Each one of his limbs felt as light as the air, as if he could actually drift away were he to merely think it. He wanted to exit his body. Float up, lost in the passing clouds - becoming one of the blurs.

Just, disappear.

But he couldn't. The grass beneath him felt so comforting. Each individual blade was reaching out to him, touching him, calling to him. As a whole, they embraced him. Soothed his back, wrapped around his fingers, held him up. For this trip, they weren't merely his acquaintances. They were his friends. His family. He couldn't leave them, for they wouldn't leave him.

It was bliss. The world around him was unfolding - revealing itself. For the first time he actually felt whole. One with the planet. Looking to his side, he only wished he had someone to share the experience with.

A hand to hold on his journey.

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Song of the Day (And It Spread) 11.9.12

We've made it! Five more days behind us. Theres nothing quite like the salvation of Friday.

Unless of course, it's accompanied by a song or two.

This week, the first song is "And It Spread," by the Avett Brothers. I really don't know too much about them, but I just recently heard this song and fell in love. It's just so care free and the lyrics are wonderfully poetic. Go ahead, call me sappy - I don't care, I'll admit it.




Song number two is a little different. Still low key - but in a completely different way. This is Filter's "Take A Picture."



Finally, but certainly not least, is a classic. Dispatch's "Two Coins."



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Bus Stop Portrait #4

She knew wearing sandals wasn't the greatest choice, but she went against her better judgement - wanting to capitalize the last couple days of summer before the weather turned sour and forced her into shoes. Actually, the more she thought about it, her whole outfit wasn't exactly appropriate for as far as she was. Not only did her feet hurt, but so did her lower back. And because she wanted to wear one of her favorite tops, which she had well before the pregnancy began, she couldn't sit down on the bench that was right behind her, even though her body was pleading with her to.

It wouldn't be long until he'd arrive. She was ready for it. She'd been through it before. Knew what to expect. Although, she'd be lying if she said she was looking forward to it. When Kyrie entered the world, things were going to change. It had been hard with her husband overseas. Not only because of the danger he was in every day, but because their son was going through the rebellious years, pushing her buttons every chance he got. Deep down she was hoping that a younger brother would put him on the right track - almost force the maturity to the surface. He was a good kid, but he was really wearing her down. The constant calls from school, the back talk, coming home with cuts and bruises from a recess scuffle - it was never ending.

She felt guilty. He was at home, curled up in bed, sick as a dog, and she couldn't be there for him. When she had entered his room to wake him up for school, he was already tossing and turning, coughing away. She checked his temp, pressing her hand then cheek against his forehead, just like her mother used to do, and even checked his palms, which were cold and clammy. He looked run ragged. She had left him a cup of tea on his night stand and some money to order some soup before she left for work. On the way out of her room, she noticed a copy of "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" on the floor and smiled - one of her all time favorites favorites.

She really just wanted the day to be over. To get home and cook him a nice dinner, maybe grab some ice cream on the way home to soothe his throat. She was just to rummaging through her mind with what flavor she should get him when she saw the front door of the apartment open. To her surprise, he poked his head out, looked around quickly and bound down the stairs. She gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was walking to the corner pharmacy to get something. But the more she watched him, the more she realized he wasn't actually sick.

Thats when it hit her.

The copy of "Ferris Bueller" wasn't for enjoyment. It was for studying and perfecting. She could just picture him, watching the beginning on loop, memorizing the important moments, "The key to faking out the parents is the clammy hands. It's a good non-specific symptom. You fake a stomach cramp, and when you're bent over, moaning and wailing, you lick your palms. It's a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school."

He had to be so proud of himself, thinking he got away with it - probably headed to one of his friend's houses. Of course she was mad, but she couldn't help but smile. She could imagine the look on his face when he walked in and she was home, waiting for him. After all, her generation was the first to be taught by Ferris. She'd been there, done that.

She just hadn't been caught.

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