Song of the Day (January Wedding) 03.29.13

Well isn't it funny bumping into you here?

Hopefully you had a good week and have something exciting planned for the coming weekend. Mine isn't going to be too thrilling, but I'm looking forward to just being able to kick back and relax a bit. Been one of "those" weeks.

But enough about me, let's talk about this week's music.

Now, I know I'm going to sound like a broken record, but the first song is by The Avett Brothers. Like I've said before, there is just something about them that hooked me. I just can't get enough. But, this is one of their older songs, so there is a chance you may not have heard it. Much like all their other songs, this one is folky. Twangy banjo and lush guitar strumming accompanied by some lovely vocals, structured with incredible lyrics. I really enjoy how this piece starts slowly and pretty barren. Just a guitar mimicking a banjo before harmonizing and throwing in some lyrics. Slowly but surely, as the song continues, it begins to pick up - becoming a little more lively, propelled by a quickening beat. Lyrically, it's just a perfect example of love and what everyone should look for in whoever they deem the "one." Oh right - and the line about the singing birds in the last verse is just beautiful.  This is The Avett Brothers' "January Wedding."

This next piece might seem like a bit of a downer, but don't judge it too quickly. Give it a chance to get all the way through and you'll see that it actually carries with it a pretty uplifting message. Yeah - sure, two thirds of it are depressing, but it hopefully will win you over by the end. This song completes both a literally and figurative cycle and if you're not sure what I mean, you'll hopefully know when it's over. And no, I'm not on some sort of wedding kick - it's just ironic that both mention them. I know I've brought up the band Dawes before, but if you didn't pay attention, listen now: they are worth looking into. Relatively new to the scene, they are from LA, specifically Laurel Canyon and boy do they carry with them a unique sound. I hope you enjoy the next song as much as I do. This is Dawe's "A Little Bit of Everything."

e

Movement Through Stills

By now I'm sure you've all seen my travel piece from Europe. For being my first foray into this type of film/video, I was very pleased with how it came out. Sure, it had its flaws here or there, but I coped with them. After all, it's all part of the learning process.

So now, as my trip to Ireland approaches, I've been thinking a lot about what I can do to produce an even better piece. Take more photos. Shoot more videos. Set up the time lapse camera more often. In reality, there is a whole slew of things to do. I've even begun playing with my new camera - practicing with all the different modes to make sure I use what is best, when it's best. Ultimately, will it be better than my last piece? That I won't know for sure until it is done, but I hope it is. At least I can guarantee that it'll be different.

Along with my practicing and planning, I've also been looking for new inspiration. More pieces that could help shape my goal - lend some new ideas. Not that I want to copy anything - but a little nudge into a direction I may not have thought of is always appreciated.

Tonight I had the pleasure of stumbling upon one of those pieces. Made from 3000+ photos, the following video gives a beautiful tour of Brooklyn. Looking more closely at it, I'm convinced there was something done to it in post - probably blurring the photos together so they seem to blend into one another. As cool as it looks, I have no interest in doing this in my future piece(s), but I hope I can shoot everything 'in camera' and make it look equally as smooth.

One could hope right?

Anyway - this piece is just down right gorgeous.  Enjoy.

A Moment to Last Forever

It all happened when the lights were out.

As he lay there, his mind was completely at ease. He could hear the wind swirling about outside, diving down alleyways and pushing leaves along the cobblestone streets. An occasional gust would come by and shake the windowpane. The glass was as old as the building itself, set into the wood some time ago, becoming loser each year that passed. He was amazed by the sound of its rattling that it had not yet fallen out. Outside the window, he could only see into the city the slightest bit - the tops of other buildings, illuminated by the glow of the moon. The stars shown brightly in the sky above roofs, glittering millions of miles away. What other windows he could see were dark. Who ever or whatever was behind them was long asleep.

He liked it that way. They were alone.

The room itself had seen better days. The walls were barren. It was obvious over time layer after layer of paint had been applied - trying to hide the years had had passed. The ceiling was stucco - and slightly discolored. A faint yellowish brown - clearly from cigarette smoke. Although it had been listed as smoke free, a thick haze still lingered throughout the building - in the main parlor, stairwell, and hallways. Seeping into everything. It didn't bother him though - reminding him of what his grandmother's house used to smell like. Rich from the stink of ashtrays. There hadn't been much room to spread out. Literally just two small beds, a desk, and a tiny wardrobe. But it all didn't matter too much. They wouldn't be staying long.

As he listened, he was content. Just lying there in the dark. It was a perfect moment. Just enough moonlight was falling in through the window that he could make out the shape of the bed they were sharing and the curve of her hips below the densely knit blanket. It had been some time since he had been this happy. Other than the occasional reminder of the wind outside, the world seemed to stand still.

His heart was beaming.

Below the blanket he could feel her radiating warmth. It was hot - but not overwhelming. Just what he needed. It was the kind of warmth that embraced him. Wrapped itself around him and held tight. It never became too much - too unbearable, causing sweat. The kind that in the morning he wouldn't want to leave the blankets. Couldn't be forced to. Every couple minutes or so, he would smile. Underneath all the layers, he could feel one of her fingers twitch against his forearm - her body in such a deep state of sleep, nerves occasionally firing unannounced. Something about it was so endearing. Simple yet charming. He listened to the tempo of her breathing. Felt her heartbeat echoing against his own. Watched her chest slowly rise and fall. Waited for each breath to make contact with his skin, warming it for just a second. It was dark, but he could still imagine the lines of her face, the curves of her cheeks, her eyelashes, the shape of her nose. It would always be there, engraved in his mind.

Best of all was how they fit together. Like puzzle pieces. His hand in the curve of her hip, her head resting on his shoulder - showering him with waves of auburn. As if they melted into one. A completed picture.

It was amazing to him that something so simple could make him so happy. Just one tiny moment, that could seemingly be taken for granted. Lost amongst a sea of others. Yet here he was. Soaking it all in. Never wanting it to end.

Tonight belonged to them.



e

Youth By Association

His days of youth were well behind him. Lost amongst the haze that had formed in his mind over the past twenty years.

Sometimes he couldn't tell if it was age creeping up on him or if it was his body's sign to stop smoking so many Marlboros a day. As if the smoke was somehow beginning to seep inside of him and take up residency. Either way, his childhood had seemed so far back, out of reach. Memories still remained, but were hard to grasp and pull back into focus.

Time had taken its toll on him, along with the chain smoking. The years had attacked his joints, sparing nothing. His back was always arched, his fingers gnarled. He didn't mind though. He understood what it meant to be old. Although it did bring with it some positives. He loved his grey hair. Ever since being a child he had wanted his roots to be silver and he finally got his wish - if not sixty years later. His skin was permanently tan and tough like leather. A dark rich brown. He loved how he smelled. Of hair tonic and tobacco - the scent of a true man - like his father when he was growing up. It had taken years to mature, but finally it was perfect. The days of being shy were left in the past. For so long he had cared what those around him thought. How he dressed. What he looked like. How he spoke. It wasn't until age made its presence know that he let go of all of that. There was no use in trying to be someone he wasn't.

These days there wasn't much he could do aside from shuffle around the town, making his rounds from shop to shop, talking with childhood friends or other members of the community. His children had moved away some time ago - getting out of the village in order to pursue their dreams. Chasing them to the city. When he heard from them it was a real treat. A simple letter or card made his day while a phone call made his month. Unfortunately it had never felt the same since the passing of his wife. The community had been there for support. Guiding him through his mourning, comforting him when he needed it. Yet he had become lonely. Lost in life. Wandering around with no real purpose. But he had never been that type of person, to roll over and die and he was never going to be.

So he set out and got a job. One with easy hours. Only mornings and afternoons. It allowed him to still wake up early in the mornings and carry on with a routine like he always had. Brewing strong dark coffee as the sun rose - sipping it on his porch in between drags from his cigarettes. When finished, he'd make his way down the the office and climb into the truck, ready to start the day.

His current mood didn't matter  - the first stop always brought a smile to his face. He actually only had a few along his route, but each addition was wonderful. His youth may have been long gone, but there wasn't anything quite like the laughter of young children to strip away the layers of time that had weighed him down. They'd come running out of their houses or down the street, backpacks jostling around behind them, smiling, eager to get on board and see their friends. As he drove them towards the school, their giggles would fill the air, bringing a smile to his face. Completely infectious. Sometimes he'd even sneak them each a lollipop - making sure they promised to only eat it after lunch. He loved each one of them and couldn't wait for the end of each day, when he could bring them back to their families.

Something about it fulfilled him. Made him feel younger. Warm to the core.

After all, age was just a number.


T

Midnight Vessel

There was something about walking along the beach beneath the stars that was addicting. The sand between his toes, moisture hanging heavily in the air, the sheen the salt left on his skin. He loved hearing the waves crashing against the shore - smashing the jetty. A constant rolling that echoed out into the night. The perfect background noise. Something he couldn't resist. It called to him - goading him to sneak out into the early hours of the morning. Leave his warm bed for the cold sand.

Growing up on the coast, it was instilled in the young boys that there was nothing more magical than the ocean. It was large. Powerful. Demanded respect. Everyones' fathers had grown up riding the waves, working the nets, providing for their families. And before that, their grandfathers, and great grandfathers did the same. It was something that was passed from generation to generation. Almost inevitable. Part of their DNA. And for him it was no different. From the first moment he had stepped into the waves, he knew he wanted to end up on the sea.

It had been there for a while. Well before he could remember. The adults in town had always said it was a reminder of the last big storm. The one that brought with it days of rain, vicious swells, brooding, towering clouds, and rising tides. It had set the community back for some time. Businesses were flooded, lives lost - houses were even sucked back out into the sea, tumbled against the ocean floor and pulverized to nothing more than tiny pieces of drift wood. Now it sat there, perched on its side - stranded. The elements had not been kind - the sun had bleached the color from the paint, the salt in the air had seeped into the grain and caused it to buckle, splintering the wood - its windows had broken long ago.

But to him it still looked perfect.

Each night as he walked up to it, he'd smile - hand held out, just waiting for the moment his figures graced the rough grain. He knew exactly where it was in the dark - visited it so many times - the number of steps before he touched it, yet he still was anxious. He'd walk around it a couple times, just eying it up and down. Taking in every little inch of its hull - imaging how bright the paint used to be - how beautiful it must of been when it strode proudly across the waves. After a few laps, he would crawl inside and make his way to wheel - taking the now slightly rusted metal in his hands. And there he would stand, for hours at a time, turning it back and forth, gazing out over the bow into the darkness of the morning. Just him. He had no shipmates. No deck hands. This was his vessel and he was in charge. Each night it was different. Sometimes he'd have to battle towering swells, other times he'd be gliding along, able to leave the wheel and walk around the deck.

As soon as the noise of the ocean began to die down, when the waves were sucked back along with the tide, he'd gingerly crawl out of the ship and circle it a few more times. Eventually bidding it farewell and continuing along the beach, back towards home.

When he got back to the house, he made sure to wipe his feet extra carefully, tracking in as few grains of sand as he could. He loved walking through the den, empty and quiet - the shadows from the moon playing off the walls and ceiling. Sneaking up the stairs, he avoided the ones that squeaked, hopeful that his parents didn't hear him making his way back to his room. They had scolded him before, but he hadn't been caught in some time. It was invigorating. To sail the seas at night.

The risk was worth it.

Song of the Day (Let Me Move You) 03.22.13

Feliz Viernes!

We made it. Another week down. Success!

Again - much like my last post, I'm running low on time so I'm diving right in. This week I present you with a bit of a throwback. An older tune - one that was actually never released prior to this point. A song by the late, great, Jimi Hendrix. Luckily for all of us, an album of all his unreleased songs just came out and this is one I instantly fell in love with. Not because it's rockin' or the high level of funk it exudes. No no. I love it for one thing.

The sax.

This is Jimi Hendrix's, "Let Me Move You."

Down Unda

Been a long day. Long week. But luckily I have friends in town. Two people I haven't seen in almost three years - from Fantasy Island. Wahoo for having the Ryan sisters in town. But boo for not having the time to write.

So like most Fridays, I'll present you with a video, just without all the usual explanations. Bottom line? Australia is beautiful and I can't wait to make it there (Mom - ball is in your court). The person who made the video below is talented for a few reasions. A) He/she understands how to effectively use split-screens. B) They know how to compose a shot well. C) Clearly they have an eye for what to shoot in terms of movement and points of interest. D) It is edited pretty tightly with the music.

Best part though? You literally get to see all of Australia.

A Year Through My Window from Boilerhum on Vimeo.

Groovin' Through

As relieved as he was that this was all coming to an end, a shred of him was disappointed that it wasn't going to continue on.

The car had broken down some time ago. But he wasn't really too sure when exactly. Or why for that matter. All he remembered was driving along, through the gently rolling hills, listening to his tunes. Grooving out. The beats of the music were really speaking to him today and he made sure to give them his full attention. All around him the world was blazing by. Just a mere blur - streaks of color outside of the car. He had one hand firmly planted on the wheel and the other drifting up and down out the window, matching the rhythm that was pumping out of the stereo. Completely dialed in. He remembered thinking how wonderful everything looked. Brighter than usual. The radiance of the sky melting into the vibrance of the grass. The road ahead of him seemed to stretch on forever. Even as he drove on, he swore it was never going to end - like he was driving on a treadmill. By now he was sure the pills he had swallowed before he left his apartment were finally taking affect.

And then the car began shaking and shuttling. At first he didn't think about it. It had happened before. It wasn't the newest vehicle, nor had he taken the best care of it over the years, but usually it was just a quick cough. This time it was different. A death throe. He could feel it travel up the shaft of the drive train and into his hands. Rattling all the way through his arms. Deep under the hood he could hear the motor pop and few times and then the smoke started. Billows of it pouring out from the grill, blocking his view. To make things worse, it started to back up into the car, seeping in through the vents. Burnt rubber and melting wires.

 What an absolute buzz kill.

As he got out of the car, he couldn't believe how hot the sun was. For the entirety of the drive up until this point, he had the windows down - the air whipping by him, wicking away the sweat that had been forming on his brow. Between the music and the constant air flow, he had hardly paid attention to it. Now that he was standing directly under it, it licked at his skin. Sizzling away the perspiration. All he wanted to do was crawl under his car and hide from it. But he couldn't even if he wanted to. His legs felt wobbly. Knees tingly. So he started walking.

And here he was. It had to have been a couple hours - even though it had only seemed like a few minutes in his own head - where he had been since leaving the car. He had barely noticed the world around him as he trudged along the shoulder. As the sun had slowly begun to fall from the sky, his shirt had completely soaked through with sweat, hair matted against his face. Lips dry. Skin already turning pink. All he wanted was his music. His body kept wanting to grooving to the beat that wasn't there and he felt like he was neglecting it. And the heat waves ahead of him, dancing off of the asphalt, kept calling for him to join them. It was absolute torture.

But off in the distance he saw something shine against the hill, snapping him back to reality. A reflection on a windshield. Holding his hands up, waving them back and forth, he began running forward, shouting out. He had to get their attention. Had to get out of the sun. Maybe they had water. Some food.

Or even better, a working radio.

Sammy the Salmon

It's time. Time for me to reach back into the past and dig deep down to my roots and present to you a music video. Seriously though, when was the last time I did that? Yes - I've posted a few here recently (mostly on Fridays), but they're only side products of the song of the day. Not usually by choice. So today, hell, why not.

Now as many of you know, one of, if not my all time favorite music video is Star Guitar by The Chemical Brothers. If you aren't familiar with it, I'd recommend watching it (go ahead, click it - I dare you). So it just seems fitting to share with you another one of their videos that I've fallen back in love with. I saw it a couple years ago and had an affair with it and recently my feelings for it have flared up once again. I'm referring to "The Salmon Dance." Let's break it down shall we? First of all, the song is catchy. No and's, if's, or but's about it. It always helps if that is the first noticeable thing about a video. Next there is the fact that it is fun. Videos that take themselves too seriously are often hard to sit through and enjoy. There's just too much weight behind them. I'll admit, technically speaking, this video isn't too groundbreaking. Sure, the CG looks good, especially the fish as they're singing and dancing, but the camera work isn't too special. Digging deeper, there are a ton of little nuances I love. First, let's address the obvious fact. This kid is tripping on something hard. LSD? Shrooms? Who knows - but damn is he having what seems to be the time of his life. Singing and dancing fish? Sign me up. Secondly, much like Star Guitar, objects in the video and the beats of the song line up. Pay attention as the fish dart out of the castles, or go up and kiss the glass. In perfect synch. Third, Fatlip keeps trying to each Sammy the whole time. Cute little addition to the video. I mean, he is a piranha after all. And lastly? You can't tell me the beat boxing pufferfish isn't a badass. Oh right - I also love how Sammy keeps narrating different salmon facts throughout the course of the song. As they say - you learn something new everyday.

Bottom line? Kickass, fun video. Don't search too hard for any deep meanings though.

Family Anchor

He should have know that something was wrong by the ways the clouds were hanging over the city that morning.

Usually when the blue sky was hidden by clouds, they were swirling around, carried by the currents rising up from the streets - never staying in one place too long. Yet today, they just hung there. Blotting out the sun. Boring. Ominous. Ever since he was a child he had thought Paris was the most beautiful city. Vibrant and full of life - but this morning everything was empty. All the walls around him were drab, drained of color - a meaningless grey. The air felt thick. His feet felt heavy.

He hadn't even noticed his coworkers walking out of the office as he approached. Many with arms full of personal belongings and cardboard boxes - maybe the occasional potted plant. So when he walked in and saw empty desks and barren cement walls, he was a bit confused. The office had always looked so nice. Full of people he had grown to love over the last couple of years - smiling faces that greeted him each morning. But today, when he looked around, there weren't the usual suspects - Cathy with her freshly poured cup of tea, Steve ready with a joke, or Becca the intern eager to help with a new task. To be honest, it all looked to sterile now. Pathetic.

By the time he had made it to his boss' office, he had already figured out that the branch was being shut down. He just wanted closure by officially hearing it. When he first stepped into the office, he was a little bitter - spiteful that his boss would probably just be relocated, the only hassle having to be moving.  But the noticeable streaks of salt along his cheeks revealed just how wrong he was. This was affecting everyone. No one had been spared. So he stuck out his hand and thanked him for all he had done as the leader of the office. It was all he could do.

As he wandered along the river on his way home, there really wasn't anything running through his mind. He dragged his feet as he went - making sure to kick any stone ahead of him into the river, listening for the satisfying splash and watching them disappear beneath the surface. The clouds still hung heavily overhead and showed no sign of breaking up, almost taunting him. It felt like it was all over. As if his life was coming to an end. Sure, all around him the city was still bustling, continuing on, unaware of his termination, nor showing much compassion - but what was he to do now. He was older. No longer in his prime. Times were changing. It wasn't going to be long before he felt completely outdated. How was he going to support his family? All he could think about was them. And thats when all the problems started melting away. This was all just a minor bump in the road. Not more than ten minutes away were the two most beautiful children in the world who would be ecstatic that he was home early. They didn't care about his job. They just cared about him. And of course there was his wife - his soulmate. The woman he had loved with every fiber of his being from the moment he saw her. She'd be there, understanding and compassionate. His rock.

Suddenly everything else didn't matter anymore.

He just want to get home and hug his family.

Song of the Day (I Never Knew You) 03.15.13

Happy Friday everybody!

I hope all of you out there had a great week and you can ride it into the weekend. After all, Sunday is St. Patrick's day and you better believe my irish heritage is coming out (Baileys, Jameson [or Bushmills] and Guinness anyone?!) and so should yours, even if you're not actually Irish.

But let's get into the reason we're all here right? Music!

I know I've showcased them before, but I really cannot get over the Avett Brothers at the moment. There is just something so damn pure about their music. Its honest, heartfelt, and moving. Lyrically, it is some of the best I've heard in quite some time. I highly suggest all of you at least give their latest album "The Carpenter" a listen or even buy it. So appropriately, I'm going to present you with the song "I Never Knew You," off the same album. It's super catchy. Great hook. Fantastic lyrics as mentioned above. It's just one of those songs thats guaranteed to get stuck in your head for a while (sorry).

(and don't mind the video - focus on the music)



This next group is from Britain and is a recent find - shown to me by a friend. They're extremely genuine, with music that grabs hold of you and really resonates deep down. The lead singer's voice is extremely unique - unlike anything I've heard recently. Raspy, but clear, with one hell of a range. The guitar playing is fantastic as well. Very crisp.  Much like the Avett Brothers, their lyrics are really powerful as well. Since they're new, I'll share two songs with you. This is Passenger, with the songs "Let Her Go," and "Holes."

Morocco

Well, you all know how much I loved Morocco when I was there a couple months ago. But the more I've thought about it, I may have liked it a bit too much.

I'd like to think I've done my fair share of traveling but I've never been to a place remotely the same. There was just something so magical about it. The green hills of the north, disappearing into the endless deserts to the south. How warm and inviting everyone was. The food. That addicting mint tea. The friends we made in the few days that we were there. There was just such a contrast between everything. Coming from America, it was surprising to see some of the quality of life - but it was also endearing seeing that it didn't affect anyone there. Everyone still went about their lives, smiles on their faces, not letting it get the better of them. Oh yeah - did I also mention that it was absolutely gorgeous? Literally a photographer's dream.

So why do I mention Morocco for what must be the twentieth time? Well the piece below is a perfect example of how amazing a country it is. It's funny, because I love describing the different aspects of the videos I post, but this one is just self explanatory - it needs no assistance. But I will admit that it is pretty awesome to recognize some of the medinas, tanneries, and mosques showcased. The video I made was just a little glimpse into Morocco - but did no justice. Sit back and enjoy this piece. It's absolute beauty in motion.

I'll certainly be going back.

The Maghreb from Enrique Pacheco on Vimeo.

I can still hear the song, the melody behind the kiss you gave me.

How many times do we have to say the words good bye?

Freight Life

There was nothing quite like the sounds of the cold steel passing below him.

That rhythmic clacking that thumped away into the night. Echoing out over the fields that stretched out around him.

Most evenings he'd know where he was going. He would have made sure to do a little bit of research, plan out his next move. When he needed to switch trains, where the next station was, or if there would be guards walking the yards, looking for his kind. But he had lost track of time. He had enjoyed the quaint little town he had spent the day in a little too much. It had reminded him of home - somewhere he hadn't been in some time. The faded colors of the houses, the neatly rowed neighborhoods, cobblestoned main street - even the older couples walking around hand in hand. It had been the closest to homesick he had ever felt.

But when he heard the squeak of the wheels against the rail and the horn blare, those feelings quickly fell away. He felt like a kid again. Running across the town, through back yards, under trees, over bushes, zigzagging between parked cars - a scene straight out of the finale of Ferris Bueller. By the time he got to the station, the last car was at the end of the platform. He had to give it all if he expected to make it. Running forward, his feet kept sinking into the loose gravel as the train continued to slip away. Determined, he pushed on harder, throwing everything he could into each step and finding his way onto the track itself, awkwardly bounding between the wooden planks. It may not have been pretty, but he was making up ground. It was going to be close. He was still faster than it was, but the train was quickly gaining speed. When his fingers finally wrapped around the rusted ladder, he jumped forward, pulling himself up, letting out a huge sigh of relief as he spread out on top of the last car. His legs were shaking, heart pounding, and his lungs were on fire. He really needed to quit smoking.

The sun had already set, falling behind the horizon some time ago, but the wind still felt refreshing as it whipped against his skin - almost at the temperature that brought out goosebumps. He had to hurry up. Soon it'd be too cold and he didn't want to traverse along the train in the dark - there had been too many tales of accidents for him to risk it - so he wrote faster.  It was something he did every night, just to document his adventures. Where he had stopped, what he had seen. The food he had managed to scrap together. What was up next. It helped him stay in touch with the world. The space between interacting with other people was too great, so he had turned to blank pages for company. But tonight, as he kept writing, he realized he didn't know what was next or where he was going.

So he just wrote. About anything. What was around him - the farms that covered the horizons. The miles upon miles of corn. How the stars were brighter that night than he could remember - almost playing hide and seek with him. Darting in and out between the wisps of clouds that hung overhead. Seeing the different graffiti tags on the cars, left by those who had come before him. The feeling of chipped paint below his hands and feet. How the swaying of the train helped him fall asleep on the nights he felt the most alone. Or that the movement of the train created a tunnel around him, shielding him from the other sounds of the outside world - but he loved that he could still hear the wind as it played through the fields around him - tickling the tall grass. It dulled everything else, allowing him to relax and take a step back from life.

When he was onboard, nothing else really mattered.

It was all just a passing blur.

Mongolia Via Rail

Oh man, what a fantastic night of frisbee. Not too cold, super foggy. But boy, am I tired. And it's late.

Video time!

I'm not even really going to get into it. Just sit back and enjoy it. Super mesmerizing, extremely beautiful. I've always wanted to travel through a country on a train and after seeing this piece, I think Mongolia may be the country to do it.

Enjoy and I'll get back to writing tomorrow!

Trans-mongolian : A long train journey from Factoria on Vimeo.

Nicotine Routine

He couldn't remember when exactly it had heppened. But at some point, it had become a routine.

Just sitting there, slouched against the wicker back, legs spread out onto the sidewalk in front of him, just watching. Not looking for anything in particular. Soaking it all in. It really was a wonderful way to start each morning. In his left hand there was a cappuccino, dark and frothy. Brewed perfectly. Its heat radiating through the porcelain mug into his skin. And in his right, dangling over the arm of the chair, almost scraping the concrete, was a cigarette. Always a Marlboro Red. He refused to smoke anything else.

There was something so smooth about taking a drag from the filter and washing down the smoke with a sip of expresso - letting it mix inside of his chest before exhaling. Watching it drift out into the morning air, swept away by the breeze of a passing car.

The more he sat, the more he noticed. Of course there were the regulars. The older gentleman who sat a few chairs down from him, drinking his own cup of coffee and puffing away on Pall Malls. They rarely spoke, keeping it short when they did, but usually relied on a brief nod of the head. By now he knew all the children that strolled by in their tiny pockets and cliques - most by name, just by listening. They'd bounce by, like clockwork every morning. He usually smiled and waved - making sure not to take a drag as they passed, careful not to taint their lungs. He loved watching the different deliveries arrive up and down the street. Buns to the sandwich shops. Fresh produce to the corner market.

By the time the his cappuccino was gone and the cigarette had burned down to the filter, his body was awake - tingling from the mixture of nicotine and caffeine, ready to start on the day. As he made his way down the street, he'd turn and wave back to the owner of the cafe, wishing him well and letting him know he'd be back tomorrow - the whole time wondering who's routine he was about the walk through.

Song of the Day (Amazing Eyes) 03.08.13

Happy Friday!

You know the drill. Let's dive right in.

This week I'm presenting you with two songs of drastically different styles. The first (the headliner if you will) is by the band Good Old War, hailing from Philadelphia and is titled Amazing Eyes. It's one of those songs that sounds like it's from an earlier era. Nothing too extreme, but you can certainly hear some pieces of Neil Young and James Taylor (especially the guitar) in there. I love that the indie-folk scene is making a resurgence (Dawes, Lord Huron, The Avett Brothers, even Mumford and Sons) and these guys fit right into that fold, deservingly so. Lyrically, I love it. The play of how two imperfect people can fit so well together even if it doesn't seem to make sense. It's one of those songs I could listen to on repeat for a long time. Mellows you right out.




Alright, so song number two is a complete 180. It's fun, it's upbeat. It just makes you want to dance. I will admit though that I am about six years behind appreciating it. Thankfully I was introduced to it while driving across Andalusia this Christmas and since hearing it, I haven't been able to stop listening to it or the artist's other work. All you need to think about before you play it is Freddy Mercury. I'll be amazed if you don't hear the similarity. Modern day version? Maybe so.

F*ck this song is catchy.

This is Mika's Lollipop (and yes - I usually don't show music videos so that you can focus on the music and not be distracted, but I just have to include this one because it works so well with the song).

Going Coastal

Growing up, the ocean was always a big part of my life. Every summer I'd be on the coast. Running through the sand, playing in the water, soaking up the sun. There was no better escape after months of school, trapped inside of a classroom. I've never really realized it until recently, but I'm relaxed when near the water - whether that means walking along a lake in the middle of Yosemite, peering out across the bay in Portugal, or even being in the middle of a rain storm. But when I'm in it, that's when I'm the most at peace. There's just something magical about feeling weightless, floating along. Diving below the surface drowns out the rest of the world - mutes everything that isn't important. Gives you a moment to yourself, for as long as you can hold your breath. I don't think I'll ever be able to live somewhere that doesn't have access to a substantial body of water. It's just too important to me (maybe thats why half my stories are about water in one form or another).

So where am I going with this? Well, I've clearly been on a travel kick recently and I found two videos that deal with exotic places, travel, and the ocean. If you combine all three, I'm in heaven. There really isn't anything more I could ask for. So lets kick back and enjoy.

The first piece is a perfect example of a documentary. Its one of the few that I've ever seen that is truly unbiased. It's exactly what it should be. A film that just observes. It makes no judgment, presents no opinions. Just a eye that happens to be recording what it sees. I love the shot composition. Nothing too over baring or complex, but nothing boring enough that it loses your focus. The lack of music until the end also sucks you in - forcing you to listen to each little nuance in the world. It's like you're actually there with him, maintaining the lighthouse.

I'll just go ahead and add Uruguay to the list, right after Rwanda.

They Are The Last from Kauri Multimedia on Vimeo.


The second piece stood out to me for two reasons. The cinematography and how much it reminded me of the Caribbean. Not only did I spend each summer on the coast each year, I also was fortunate enough to spend at least a week in the Caribbean, island hopping. It's been some time since I've been there and I miss it. Now, I realize this piece is about Seychelles - a group of island of the East coast of Africa, but the way of life, based on this piece, seems to be very much in line with the Caribbean. The slow pacing, laid back attitude, colorful buildings, smiles on everyone's faces. As for the cinematography, I'll let it speak for itself (the water dripping onto the lens - beautiful). Sure, I could do without the semi-cheesy music, but overall this is a pretty strong piece. How could you know want to spend time in such an environment?

This alone got my wheels churnin' thinking about posting up somewhere near the equator for a while. I'm sure there are a couple dive shops out there looking for some help...

Big Little World from Paul Wex on Vimeo.

Pouring Down

When she saw the storm lurking on the horizon, she honestly didn't think much of it. There didn't appear to be anything special behind the churning dark clouds aside from the occasional brighter-than-usual flashes of lightning. Each time a bolt reached out to the ocean below, it illuminated the sky - startling her. It wasn't a just a quick flash like she had grown up seeing along the coast. No. These were different. They seemed to linger in the air for a moment - draining the color from everything. Even miles away, each strike was bright enough for her to see miles in all directions - cutting through the inkiness of the night without a problem. It was rather impressive, but it still didn't bother her.

Then the thunder began.

Out of nowhere it began rumbling. Low and slow. Taking its time to repeat itself. But soon enough the spacing between the flashes and growling answer began to grow shorter and shorter. Each time becoming a little louder than the last. This thunder was different too. It sounded animalistic. As it got closer, the fiercer it boomed. It wasn't long before it was shaking the little shack. Causing plates to rattle in the cupboards and dust to sprinkle down from the rafters. There was something guttural about it. Echoing out from deep within the clouds. This wasn't just a storm blowing through. This was a warning.

By the time she had bolted up all the windows and tried to leave, the tide had risen, far enough that it was lapping at the base of the porch. She was absolutely stunned. Last time she had looked the ocean was just beginning to creep into her yard. It was hopeless now. Somewhere down in the swirling brackish water lay her car - fully submerged. She strained her eyes against the horizon to try and see how her neighbors were fairing, but it was too dark. An absolute abyss.

It looked like she had to wait this one out.

So back inside she went, making sure to lock the door behind her, knowing that if the water kept rising, it'd soon sneak in under the door. But it didn't matter, there was just something about hearing the deadbolt slide into place that eased her nerves. As she made her way throughout the rest of the shack, she continued with her pre-storm rituals - double checking that every window was bolted and outer shutters latched and closed. She removed anything heavy from the walls, made sure that there was a flashlight next to her bed with fresh batteries and had a couple candles spread out sporadically. Just as she was finishing up, the rain began to fall. Light at first. Almost relaxing. It had a nice cadence to it, drumming against the thin wooden roof. But it quickly changed its tune, falling quicker and heavier. Beating against the wood with no discernible pattern - testing its strength.

As she crawled into bed and pulled the covers up securely around her chin, she prayed the roof over her head would hold strong.

When she awoke, she was startled with how quiet it all was. She heard no birds. No wind. No crashing waves. Getting out of bed, she was pleased to find no water had managed to sneak into the house. All was dry. Her little shack had made it. But when she opened the door and walked out onto the porch, she realized nothing else had.

There was nothing left.

Except for an ocean of sand.

Rwanda

So last night I had the pleasure of working a double shift because a coworker called out. To say the least, I'm a bit tuckered out today. And as I'm sure you guessed, I'm not going to be writing a story tonight.

Instead, I'll present you with a video.

I've made it quite clear that I love traveling. As a child I was lucky enough to get out of the country at least once a year - mostly to adventure throughout the Caribbean. But as I got older, found myself rooted in college, and then relocating to LA, my chances of travel severely declined. Thankfully, within the last six months, I've actually gotten myself back in gear and traveled a lot (as most of you are aware since I've documented my trips here). Primarily I have one person to thank for that, because every trip has involved them thus far, but I've finally realized that even though I am trying to build a career and make a name for myself out here in LA, I will always be able to travel. I just have to make time for it. And from now on I will make sure I do.

There is just something so magical about it. Being somewhere you've never been before, smelling new things, tasting new food, meeting new people. It really takes you out of your comfort zone and forces you to experience things as they are in the moment. As they truly are. And as you know, I was fortunate enough to travel to Africa recently and I completely fell in love. Everything about it left a lasting impression on me and I can't wait to make it back. So this following video is for Africa.

I'm not going to describe it. I'm just going to let you experience it on your own and enjoy.

But I will admit - between this video and the others I've posted recently, from India and Peru, I'm beginning to have second thoughts about myself. I can't think of something better than traveling and documenting each new place. Maybe it's time to consider a new profession...

Pushing On

It had been some time since he had set foot on solid ground. He had lost count by now. It felt like it had been weeks, but time had disappeared - all blended together. For all he knew, it could have been a few months - maybe even a year.

There had been news reports - the way things like this always seemed to begin. About the super powers starting to jostle with one another. One side was accused of spying on another. Trying to hack into a mainframe - leak some files. Snooping around where they didn't belong. Of course the other would fire back, claiming their innocence. Summits would be called. Leaders would meet in some undisclosed location. Many assumed it would all blow over, just like it always had. But this time was different. Something happened in that meeting. The powder keg was lit.

He remember reading about the growing tensions. War was on the horizon. It was inevitable. At first there were protests. People lined the streets calling for a truce. Picketed outside of government buildings. But nothing changed. The public, as much as they tried, could not sway what was about to happen. And once they realized this - it all went to shit. The looting began. Store owners had no chance. Their windows were smashed, mobs poured in, dragging the them out and grabbed anything they could. Humanity was left dead in the streets. People fought for everything they could. Food. Clothing. They hit and scratched. Bled on each other. Not long after marshall law took over. But that only made it worse. Citizens became more feral. The sight of armed government officials patrolling the street only pushed them into a further rage. It was pure chaos.

While the city around him slowly began to burn, he kept to himself. Tucked away on the outskirts. Avoiding the law, his neighbors, his friends. For the last few months he had slowly be stocking up. Collecting everything he could - hiding it away on the train he had driven for the last fifteen years. He'd sneak to it late each night with a new bounty - making sure no one ever followed him. There was no plan. It just comforted him knowing he had an escape.

And then one day, the air raid sirens began. Very low at first. Almost like a distant hum that echoed from deep within the heart of the city. But it quickly increased - screaming loudly for all the hear. Before he even knew what he was doing he was running. Straight for the train. He had left everything behind. His phone. His car. The front door of his house swung wide open in the summer breeze. His mind was completely empty. All that registered was the wailing of the siren. Bouncing back and forth between his ears.

The train was a couple miles outside of town when the sky erupted in a brilliant white, singing his eyes.  As he was hunched over, the train shook violently. For a moment he thought it was going to be thrown from the rails and tumble into the woods.

He'd never forget looking into the mirror and seeing the mushroom clouds rising into the sky. When he was a kid he had seen videos of them in school, always alone. But that day the horizon was littered with them. It had begun.

It didn't take long before the sun was blotted out. The residue from the explosions darkened the sky, bringing with it sudden snow storms that blanketed everything. There were times that he no longer could see the track ahead of him and hoped that it was still in one piece. He had been driving for some time. Passing through deserted towns and other cities that had been wiped out by attacks. Occasionally he'd see a group of people somewhere off in the distance, huddled together, trying to flag him down. He only stopped if they were close. It was too risky to sit still for too long.

As the train continued to trudge on through the nuclear winter, the number on board grew. Some managed to jump aboard as the train coasted through their towns while he stopped for others that were near the tracks. He was lucky that none of them were bad people. All they wanted to do was survive and he was just glad he finally had company. There were two families and a couple young men and women - all appreciative for allowing them to stay. He had hoped they could continue on forever, zigzagging back and forth across the country. They were already lucky that the bombs hadn't wiped out the power on the tracks nor had they run out of rail yet. But as the group had grown - the stockpile of supplies dwindled and their luck was bound to run out.

As they rounded the corner, he was nervous. A few miles back there had been signs for a city. A brief meeting was held to discuss everyone's role once the train stopped. They were to go house to house, store to store, as quickly as possible, never spending more than a few minutes in each, grabbing only what they could carry - making sure to loop back to the train and drop off what they collected before going back for more. There was no guarantee what they would find or who they could run into. The minute the trained stopped, the timer would start. No more than twenty minutes. If someone didn't make it back in time, they were on their own - left behind. Including himself.

When he stepped off the platform and sank into the snow, it felt magical at first. He had completely forgotten what it felt like to be standing on something other than steel. It was soft and inviting. But the sentiment only lasted for a moment before he snapped back to reality. He was there for a purpose. In order to survive.

By the time he made it to the first house, the snow had really started to fall - creating a wall of white ahead of him. It pelted him. Hitting him in the face. Stinging his eyes. As he approached the structure, he stopped for a moment. Frozen. A few feet in front of him a fresh pair of tracks led into the house.

They weren't alone in this town.