Paper Transitions

Boy, is jet lag really taking its toll on me today. Not that I'm really that tired in sense of lack of sleep, but I can feel how confused my body actually is. Hopefully tonight will settle it.

I'll be honest - I tried sitting down and writing tonight, but nothing was flowing out. So I'll at least provide something worth watching. Since college, I've kept a little book, actually a few, because I always loose them - but I fill them with ideas for different videos I want to shoot. Shorts, music videos, documentary topics, etc. One of the original concepts involved shooting a video, editing it, printing out every single frame, crumpling them up, smoothing them out and then scanning them back into the computer. The desired results would be crazy patterns all throughout the video. Would it look cool? Not really sure - maybe someday I'll get around to it. But until then, the following video uses somewhat of the same concept (shooting a video, then using the printed frames to reshoot/edit the piece).

This piece is a bit more complex than my idea, but I love that all the transitions are in the camera. According to the director, no special effects were used. At times it gets a little disorienting, but the end result is pretty amazing and fun to watch.

SCREENGRAB from Willie Witte on Vimeo.

Island Time Mon

So I'm writing this from the tarmac of LAX. I took a brief - kinda spur of the moment vacation with my brother and some of his friends down to St. Maarten for the weekend. I haven't been there in eight years and absolutely nothing has changed. It's absolute heaven. But - as a result I'm tired and not going to post a huge story from my phone. So look for the normal routine to begin again tomorrow.

In the mean time - here are some pictures!

Song of the Day (Get Lucky) 04.26.13

Felize Viernes!

We've made it to the last Friday in April! Shit - where is time going? Seriously. Summer is right around the corner, as is my quarter-century birthday (ahhh).

I'm on a bit of a time crunch, since I have to pack for an abbreviated trip to the Caribbean this weekend - so I'm not going to dive into the usual lengthy explanations for the songs today, but don't worry, I have two awesome jams for you.

The first one everyone should recognize. I posted it two weeks ago as a sample. And I will admit, the full song did actually drop last week, but I didn't want to post it two weeks in a row (could be a bit of overkill). When I first posted the sample, I said this album was going to change things. Possibly forever. And I still stand by that. But after finally hearing this new song, there is no way it won't become the song of the summer. This thing is about to explode (and kind of already has). It's going to be all over the place. So be prepared. It's full of funk, soul, a little electronica. Everything you could ask for in a song. This is Daft Punks' "Get Lucky."





The next song is also very new. Literally dropped three days ago. I don't know much about the artist, but what I do know, I love. Her style. Her voice. Her music. A splash of attitude. Everything is just great. Now, this isn't as much a song you can groove to like the last couple I've posted, but damn, does this one have some funk to it. And of course, with any level of funk, you can get down - I just haven't figured out how I would to this song yet.

Kind of like the last song, look out for this artist to explode soon - it's almost her time. This is Janelle Monae with "Q.U.E.E.N."

Like oooh, let them eat cake.

Tuna Melt

So I'm aware I've fallen into the trap of posting videos on Fridays instead of writing stories and I feel guilty. I was on such a good tear for a while, writing four stories a week and accompanying them with a song or two. And to be honest, I don't know what has happened. I'm stuck in a pattern and hopefully I'll break out of it soon.

But until then - video time!

The following piece is actually done by two IC Alum. Go Ithaca! Along with realizing my Friday video habit, I've also realized that I've posted a lot of travel pieces - time lapses, driving, flying, etc and seemingly distanced myself from my true love, music videos. So today I'm going back to my old routine. Below, you'll see a video to A-Trak's song "Tuna Melt." Now, by no means do I think this is groundbreaking or even pushing the medium of music videos forward - but at the same time, I don't think it needs to. At its core, this is just a fun, creative video. Which is what I think music videos should be. Pure entertainment. I won't be a stickler and break the entire piece down, but I will say that upon watching, I quickly realized this was not one continuous shot (if you watch closely you can see all the different scenes and where they are spliced together).

Favorite part of it aside from the song (remember I'm kind of in a dance craze at the moment)? That they did some work in the editing, to slow down specific shots, to allow certain "larger" events in the video to fall on important beats in the song. Nice little touch. Oh - and the little underwater transition is a nice change.

Overall I really enjoy this piece for the song and all the work put into the video. Even though it isn't one continuous shot - I can't imagine all the prep work and how many time they needed to shoot each section.

Fun fun fun! Yay for creative content.

A-Trak & Tommy Trash - Tuna Melt from Pomp&Clout on Vimeo.

Ever Burning

It was the time of night that the air was dead still. No wind. No noise. It was just his footsteps echoing out around him as his shoes squeaked against the snow.

The cold bit down hard on his skin wherever it was exposed. Latching onto the back of his neck, the bottom of his ears - attacking anything it could. His breath immediately froze as it left his mouth. Leaving a magnificent stream of silver haze in front of him to walk through - stinging his cheeks. He loved the darkness between the sparsely laid streetlights. He felt hidden. It never lasted long, but he enjoyed being lost in the shadows. Blending into the dark. There was something liberating about walking along the waterfront late at night. He was always alone - never once running into someone else, a runner, someone on a bike, or another casual stroller, like himself. The path before him was all his once the sun went down and the moon took office overlooking the city.

The longer he walked, the colder it got. The quieter it became. Aside from his breathing and shoes digging into the snow and pulverized salt, all that made a sound was the ice on the water. He could hear it shifting and cracking. Groaning against the current. Moaning into the darkness. It seemed to spread out forever - echoing towards the bright lights of the city. Struggling to hold itself together. When it did crack, near or far, the sounded rocketed by. Like a whip snapping tight accompanied by a strong surge of electricity. Something foreign to his ears. Unlike anything else. But it sounded right. As if there was no other sound that would make sense.

As he kept along the path, chin tucked into the top of his jacket, pushing against the cold, he felt empty. It wasn't the lack of other people around or the darkness between streetlights. It was how dead everything felt. The naked trees. The starless sky. The lack of noise. It was like he was in a void. Wandering alone on the outskirts of the city.

But strangely enough, he didn't feel lonely. He never did.

When he reached the end of the path, he turned around and began walking back, towards home. One clear goal in mind. He had to keep his fire going. To stay warm. Fight the encroaching cold. It had been a little bit since he had last stoked it - but he wasn't concerned.

There had never been a time that the embers hadn't been glowing bright. Waiting. Ready to reignite.

Snapping Memories

I know I've showcased lots of videos in my time of keeping this blog (which by the way just crossed 705 posts - holy shit), but often it's about an artist's work. Not particularly the person.

So I figured I'd change that a bit today.

I was looking through my usual sites, when I stumbled upon an articles that really grabbed my attention. It wasn't so much about how the article was written or even what it said really. The potential was what drew me in. There is a company, F-Stop, which endorses some of the world's leading adventure and action photographers, and this article was about them in particular. But what really grabbed me was that F-stop was doing a series of video journals that followed one of their photographers. Right away, I was excited to see how these people made their living(s), where they traveled, with whom, what equipment they used, etc. And then it set in that this was to be an on-going thing. Every week a new artists was going to be showcased. So even before I watched the first episode I was hooked. Ready to be sucked into their respective worlds.

And I'll admit - I have a photography minor and never really felt the need to do much with it. Yes, I always enjoyed taking photos, but it didn't capture me until last summer, when I went on my first real adult vacation and began documenting my adventures. From that moment on, I've fallen head over heels in love with photography. I am an avid Instagramer (yup, I'm one of those people - my gallery is over there if you feel the need --->), I recently bought some new lenses for my Canon DSLR, I still prefer to shoot film when I can - regardless of how expensive it may be, I even splurged and bought a GoPro so I can start shooting underwater photography. After watching the following video, I've realized how important photography is to me and that yes, I can make a living out of it. Tim certainly shows that its possible and his temperament and attitude are so inline with mine. It just makes him so happy. Hell - it just makes me so happy.

Maybe it is in fact time I just go for it. Pack up my things, continue traveling (as I so love to do) and just document. Sell some along the way. Try and pick up a contract somewhere. I just want to be out there. Places I've never been. In the wilderness, between towering mountains.

Learning. Experiencing. Living.

One picture at a time.

Lost With You

There was absolutely nothing between his ears.

Just a dull droning. Echoing in his head. From the pumps. Hidden somewhere deep beneath where he was suspended. Doing their job. Recycling the water - filtering, heating, then pumping it back up. He had lost the feeling in his arms and legs some time ago. It felt as if just his trunk was all that remained - his chest and head. Floating. Not even drifting. Staying perfectly still.

Occasionally an outside splash would bring him back to reality. Reminding him that he was not alone. Yet, for all intensive purposes he was. He was inside his own head. Shut off from the outside world. His eyelids remained closed - letting his eyes paint the visuals. He knew there were people off to his left, milling about - hearing their feet thud off the tiled floor. Feel the slight change in current from their movement. But he was in his zone. For as quickly as their disturbance brought him back to the world, he was able to fall away from it even faster.

All he had to do was let go. It was almost a struggle to remain connected to what was around him. He just wanted to continue to float. Hang there. Light as a feather. And fall further and further into his mind. Into to stratosphere of his dreams - amongst the puffs of thoughts and glittering ideas. There was no clear picture of what he saw, but it was soft, warm, and inviting. He just wanted to curl up, hidden within himself - away from the world. The cadence of his heart carried to his ears - he could feel his blood pumping - he was completely in tune with himself.

The water that supported him was in perfect harmony with his body. The exact right temperature. Fragranced with hints of eucalyptus and fresh flowers. It seeped into his pours. Attacked the stress. Washed away the worry. Carried him to where he needed to be. It didn't matter that others were there with him - for they were having their own moments too and didn't intrude in his. He could remain their forever. At peace with himself. Completely lost.

But then, out of the ether, a hand found its way into his and for a split second he was confused. Brought back to reality. Until he realized it was hers. There to share the moment.

And with that simple embrace - he was whole.

Song of the Day (New England) 04.19.13

Another seven down. Behind us. Done with.

Thankfully the weekend has arrive. Time to kick back and relax a bit or go out and live it up. You diced what you want to do.

Let's get into this.

We're all aware of what happened earlier this week. The bombing at the Boston marathon. First of all it's just sick. I can't believe people are capable of doing such things. Secondly, I'm amazed at how courageous and inspiring everyone else is. Runners continuing to hospitals to donate blood, bystanders running towards the explosions rather than away to help. I could dig much deeper into it, but I don't want to. It's not a good topic and it's been all around the news enough - somber enough. So I feel like we need two things, an upbeat song, and a tribute to Boston. Not only can I provide a song that meets both these needs, but one that is also relivant to my life. This is Big D and the Kids Table's, "New England."




Let's quickly transition into a happier tone and topic. Recently I've been on a bit of a dance kick. Any kind really. Funk. Electronic. Reggae. Anything that'll get my hips and feet moving. Luckily this week, one of my favorite producers (Diplo), released a new album with his DJ friends under the name Major Lazer. They're much more into the electric dance music scene, but travelled to Jamaica to record their new album and relied heavily on reggae and calypso beats. What they've created is something special. Kind of like last week with Daft Punk, I'll be surprised if you don't want to start groovin' in your seat when listening to this. Damn the main beat is so catchy. This is Major Lazer's "Watch Out For This."

Up Above the Bay

So today was interesting. Someone called into the Hooters that is in the lobby of our building and reported that they had left a bomb. How ironic considering the events that took place earlier this week. So, as one would assume, the building was evacuated and we had to stand outside for over three hours until the LAPD and LA Bomb Squad swept the restaurant and deemed it safe.

So here I am, home late as a result to that. It wouldn't have been such a big issue since it happened around 5:55pm - but they wouldn't let us into the parking garage either. So we were literally stuck there. But don't get me wrong, I don't want to seem like I'm complaining - I'm glad it was safe. One can never been to careful in matters like these.

Apparently the guy who phoned it in meant it as a "joke." I don't get people.

Anyway - it's on the later side so I'm bushed and not too into writing. But I will show you something amazingly beautiful, of a place I love. The following video is all ariel footage of the Bay Area. If you remember, I fell in love with San Fran this past summer and have been waiting for a reason to get back up there. I don't know if I'll make it anytime soon - but this helps until I do.

Shit this is so pretty.

Teton Gravity Research Aerial Reel - The Bay Area in 4K from Teton Gravity Research on Vimeo.

After Hours Pilgrimage

As he careened down the road, his car's engine whined beneath the hood. It had been at it for some time. Pushing the little car forward into the black. Around turns. Through valleys. Over hills. Braving whatever lay ahead in the dark, out just beyond the reach of the headlights.

Thinking back, he couldn't really pinpoint what drove him to leave his house and get into his car. It was just everything. A slow building pressure. Until he couldn't take it anymore and he just needed to explode. It felt like the world was on his shoulders. Not just one thing in particular. Work was driving him into the ground, starting to turn his roots grey. Friends had all but dissappeared. Too busy to reconnect - to hang out. His family seemed not to have time for him. And on top of it all, the little things had begun to stack up. The store was out of his favorite cereal. A pen had exploded in his pocket. His favorite socks had finally ripped. He was tired. Beaten down.

When he came home, all he wanted to do was escape.

So he did.

He dropped off his things. Threw his jacket on his bed - left his thermos in the sink. Wrote a note and left it on the table - letting the others know where he'd be, "I'll be back later." And out the door he went. No hesitation. No second thoughts. He got right in, turned the key, threw it in reverse, and out the driveway he went.

It had been a while. He wasn't quite sure how long he had been on the road. The sun was up when he had begun - just over the mountains, but falling fast, painting the sky a brilliant cindering orange. At some point as he was winding in and out of the hills, the sun had finally tucked itself in - plunging the world into darkness. But now the stars were out in full bloom. Sparkling proudly. Bathing the asphalt ahead of him in specular light. At moments he questioned if he should risk it all - turn his headlights off and just be guided by their brilliance, but he knew better. So he just kept driving forward. Staring straight ahead into the night. Letting the world around him fade out - become just a blur. As his mind wandered, he kept wondering where he was going.

All he knew was that he was headed east. And he would keep going until he was out of road. Until he ended up in the sea. Plunged right into the ocean. Car filling with water. At which point he'd get out and start swimming. There was only one place that he wanted to go.

And it was to her.

Appreciate Yourself

Abbreviated post because of a long, exhausting day.

Yet, as short as it may actually be, I just wanted to share the following piece with you. Yes - it's a commercial so it must be watched with a grain of salt, but its message still rings true. We're all beautiful. Inside and out. And too often we don't recognize it.

We're all gorgeous. In one way or another. Each and every one of us.

So make sure you appreciate yourself. Because you're worth it.

Peek-a-boo

As she lay there, she just let her fingers run over the carpet ever so softly. It bristled against her skin. Soft enough to feel nice, but stiff enough to throw dust into the air when it snapped back into place. The particles dancing through the air - illuminated by the rays of sunlight that were pouring into the room from between the curtains. They looked like tiny grey snowflakes. A little puffier and a little more grey. Some swirled back into her nose, tickling the back of her throat - tempting her to sneeze. But she wouldn't allow it.

She couldn't allow it.

This was the final round. She had to win this one. They had been playing all day, going back and forth between one another. No room in the house was considered off limits. The games had started off as they always do. Closets. Cabinets. Behind open doors. But as the number of rounds increased - creativity needed to be utilized. Maybe laying behind some cushions on the couch. Tucking herself tightly beneath the covers of a bed. Contorting down inside of a laundry basket. Nothing seemed impossible and coming up with an idea was never too hard. Usually within the first few seconds of a round she'd know where she was going - tiptoeing and sliding across the floors in her socks, careful not to make the slightest noise.

But now, as she lay there, she was convinced she wasn't going to be found. As the intensity had increased she had tried something new. She went back to one of the oldest tricks in the book. Hiding underneath a bed. Yes - of course she had prepared, stuffing some toys and a blanket at her feet so that from the doorway she wouldn't be seen. Maybe, just maybe, it was too easy at this stage in the game and her competition would waltz right on by the room, assuming they needed to look somewhere harder. Lying there - chest against the floor, she breathed softly. Feeling her body fall and rise against the wood beneath the bed. She tried her hardest not to stir up anymore dust from the carpet in front of her. The last little puff was still tickling her throat, tears suspended in the corner of her eyes and she knew that the slightest noise - the quietest cough would give away her spot.

Then something very strange happened. Dust began falling down from above her. Into her hair. Onto her shoulders. Sprinkling her hands like a petite snow storm. Looking up, she could see the bottom of the mattresses indenting into the springs ever so slightly. Towards the middle of the bed. Curious - she reached up and poked it gently and the bump instantly moved. Just a little bit forward. But then it moved again. And again. From the middle of the mattress closer to the edge. Each time sending a cascade of particles down onto her until it finally stopped - reaching where it could not continue any further.

 She waited. Held her breath. Listened.

Nothing. No breathing. No noise. No more movement. Maybe it had all been her imagination. But she knew who she was playing and knew they were clever. Sneaky. So she waited even longer. Not moving a single muscle in her body. Above her the bed had returned to normal. There were no more dust showers and no more movement. Ten minutes must have gone by before she felt safe and she let her curiosity get the best of her. Sliding out ever so slightly, she rolled onto her back to get a look at the top of the bed.

And there she was. Perched on the edge of the mattress, hunched over, yellow eyes gleaming down at her. The game was over. She had been found.

Although, she had to admit it wasn't so hard of a loss when her competitor's purrs filled the room.

Song of the Day (Point/Counterpoint) 04.12.13

Salvation.

Another friday in the books. Anyone out there have big, fun weekend plans? Hopefully you do! Mine will be filled with ultimate frisbee and man, I cannot wait. Love chasing those plastic discs.

But of course, before we actually hit the weekend you have to deal with my musical choice(s). What do we have this week? Well, I'll be kicking it old school again.

I've always been into music. Not just because I was listening to it since I was born. No no, because since I was in fourth grade I've been playing music. Specifically the saxophone. Alto to be exact. Growing up I think every kid had a dream of being a performer, being in a band - thousands of fans screaming at you. I know I sure did - but I also knew I couldn't sing. Then I realized I played sax. What the hell kind of band, other than Billy Joel, could I get into? Luckily thats when I discovered The Mighty Mighty Bosstones and more specifically the genre of ska. I was floored. Punk/Rock music infused with brass and jazz instruments? Sign me up. As my ska library grew and my knowledge expanded, I fell upon a group from New Jersey and immediately fell in love - Streetlight Manifesto. Everything about them is wonderful. The tone of the instruments. Their "fun" attitude. Songs built with lyrics that never seem to repeat (sometimes confusing even for the singer who has lost his place in concerts many times). Now, I know ska isn't for everybody, but at least for me, whenever I'm down, I can put on a ska song and immediately get picked up. There is just something about the energy behind it that really clicks with me. The following song is one of my all time favorite ska songs. This is Streetlight Manifesto's "Point/Counterpoint."

Hell - at one point I was even a member of a ska band and yes...we did actually play some shows. Ahh those were the days.




Whats this!? A second song?! Ok - so it's not really a song, but more of a 'sample.' And I'm forewarning - this is going to be 1000% different than the song posted above. One of the greatest musical duos, Daft Punk, is dropping their new album in May and everyone has been freaking out about it. Word on the street and throughout the industry is that it literally is a game changer. There is a possibility that music won't be the same once it is released. I know - that sounds a bit weird, but these guys truly are revolutionaries within the medium and if anyone can change the scene, it's them. Anyway - they've teased two different songs thus far. Just two 15 second loops. And they might be the best 15 seconds of music I've heard in a long time. Big words I know. But they really are. Someone out there, who goes by the name Astre, took these two samples and looped them together - extending them and adding a few other effects. So yes, what is below is a bit repetitive, but I barely notice it. Cause it is that damn good.

There is just something so retro about the sound of these songs. Almost disco-ish. People say trends are cyclical. Maybe the dance era is upon us once again.

I dare you not to groove or dance in place when you listen to this. You can't. It's that infectious. I'd list the song name, but since this is a mashup of two samples, I don't have one to give you.

Travel the World in 120 Seconds

All of you know my love for travel. Seeing new places. Trying new foods. Meeting different people. Embracing cultures I've never encountered. To be honest, there really is no downside to it. Unless of course you consider cost and time.

Most of us aren't sitting on a pile of money, nor are we free from obligations such as family, employment, or school.

But I think thats what makes traveling so wonderful. It may come few and far between for most of us, but when it does, it's a complete system shock - leaving everything else behind. Giving you a true "escape' from normal life. That's why I endorse it so much. It's nice to just get away every once and a while.

Much like I mentioned above, time and cost are my two biggest issues. I'd love to go out and see the world. Hike the whole Appalachian Trail, camp at Machu Picchu, see Niagara Falls, touch the Great Pyramids, drink a real pilsner in Prague, but I don't know if I'll ever get the chance(s). And that is only a fraction of what I want to do. So stumbling upon the following video is refreshing. For a few reasons. First I've dabbled into this type of work (and will continue to do so when I head to Ireland). Secondly it is just wonderful to literally be able to travel the world in such a short amount of time. And last, I love how the people behind the video took such a simple concept, collecting photo's from Google Street views and stringing them together, and made a video with them (and a damn good one might I add). This is just more inspiration for my upcoming Ireland video.

So for all of you out there who haven't been on a trip in a while, just sit back and let this take you places you may not see otherwise. Consider it a temporary vacation.

Kissing Fate

They had always been a part of him for so long. Seeped into his pores. Wedged itself beneath his fingernails. Become his musk.

And to be honest, he wasn't even sure he could do without them anymore.

He knew they weren't good for him. His family had told him - incessantly. Buzzing in his ear. Doctors had warned him that every time he lit one, he was taking hours, days, even years off of his life. He could hear parents warning their children of the dangers of smoking as they passed him on the street - imagining what he looked like to them. A gnarled an old man. Hunched over. Skin worn and wrinkled, like an old wallet - creases formed long ago. His beard had become wild years prior, sprouting in any way it wanted. Shuffling along, legs barely bending anymore. He was the perfect example to show to children - cigarette always in hand, looking frail as ever.

It was all misleading. Even with his fingernails stained yellow, roots sprouting only grey and white, and tobacco occasionally stuck in his teeth, he felt as young as ever. There was something about a cigarette between his lips that brought back his youth. Made him feel whole. He didn't know if it was the feeling of the smoke diving into his lungs and swirling around inside of his chest or the tickling sensation it left in the back of his throat as he exhaled. Maybe it was the nicotine that was delivered into his blood with every drag - seeping in and numbing any stress and concern that had built throughout the day. He liked to think it was as simple as feeling cool. Like James Dean.

He'd never forget his first pull. It was hand rolled by his friend, behind the school back when he was a kid - stolen from his father's smoking cabinet. Neither of them knew what they were doing except for what they had watched their parents do. Rolling the tobacco between their fingers, licking the paper. It all looked so simple. But their end result was nothing short of a disaster. Still smokable, but a disaster. And it was rough. He had seen all the older kids smoking without any issues so he wasn't expecting it to invade his lungs the way it did - sending his body into a coughing fit. But after that first pull, when it finally hit his head and he felt like he was in the clouds for a split second, he was hooked. At that age he felt cool. Like a rebel. Adults he didn't know scowled at him on the street. He just inhaled and blew out a large puff in their direction. What were they going to do.

As the years passed, he could tell each new light was tacking its toll. His breaths had become shallower. He no longer could get the stink of ash out of his clothes or hair. Every morning he'd scrub as hard has he could in the shower, but the shampoo would only hide the smell for so long - before the soot made its way back to the surface. If he went to long without one between his lips he became agitated and aggressive. He couldn't fall asleep without them.

But it didn't matter. He loved them too much. How they nestled themselves between the tips of his fingers. The feeling of their box against his leg. The cool menthol against his lips. It was an affair that had always treated him well.

They were his mistresses. And they were killing him one kiss at a time.

Elysium

Ever since I first heard that this movie was being made, I've been anxiously waiting for the first footage. And finally the trailer is out.

I hope you all enjoy it and that it peeks your interest as much as it does mine. From the footage shown in the trailer, this looks like an ambitious film. Not only in scope, but in meaning. If you've seen Neil Blomkamp's first film, District 9, then you know you're in for a ride. Apparently, much like his last film, Elysium is deeply rooted in social commentary. Class struggle. Capitalism. Corrupt government. Not topics you'd usually find in a sci-fi film.  When you combine a deep message, with great action, a solid story, and the talent of Jodie Foster and Matt Damon, you know you're in for a treat.

After seeing this - I can't wait for August to arrive (please watch this full screen, in HD).

Below the Storm

Some of his favorite memories came when the rest of the world was muffled. Or shortly there after.

Growing up near the ocean, he loved prancing in the sun. Feeling it beat down against his skin. Turning it a rich brown. Toughening it like leather. He laughed to himself when his arm hair began to turn blonde - betraying the roots that were on the top of his head. But the moments he cherished most were when the sky had taken too much abuse from the sun and the storms came. Rolling in from out over the ocean. It was never a surprise. He could see them forming a few days in advance. The horizon darkening and brooding. The occasional flash of lightning would illuminate the grey wall hovering over the water. By then there was no avoiding it. Soon enough the cold breezes would begin making their way to shore, carrying the massive storms with them. The kind of breeze that shocked his system, regardless of how warm it had been. Temperatures below what he had felt in some time. Even though it brought goosebumps to the surface, it also manifested a smile on his face.

It was only a matter of time.

And when the sky finally tore open, it held nothing back. Sheets of rain fell over his house, blanketing everything. Within minutes the water was already pooling in the yard. The ground too dry from the previous days to absorb it fast enough. As he looked out his window, he imagined the yard drowning, unable to displace the water in time. But he didn't linger on the thought for too long - instead listening to the downpour against the roof. It was hard to pick out the different drops - everything seemed mashed together, pounding away. Like static on a TV station. Nothing but constant, scrambled noise, but oddly calming.

After a few moments of just listening to the sky pour itself onto his house, he made his way to the door, peering out. Taking a few breaths and steadying himself, he threw it open and ran out into the downpour. Almost instantly he was shivering. The large clouds had pushed out any remaining warm air and the rain was cold against his skin, like tiny pins that were falling on him. He made his way over the concrete patio as fast and he could - the grey material beneath his feet feeling as cold as ice. When he was within reach, he dove into the pool, breaking through the cool top layer where the rain water had collected, making it down to the bottom, where it was still warm. And he just sat there. Eyes closed, floating a few inches from the base of the pool.

 Listening. Content.

Unlike in his house, if he concentrated, he could hear the different raindrops. Surely not every individual one, but he could pick out a select few. Their unique splashes on the surface - the clean rain water pitter-pattering against its chlorinated brethren.  Suspended there, he felt like he was engulfed by the sound - echoing off the walls all around him, bouncing off his body and into his ears. It was like he was engulfed in an auditory pillow. Coming to the surface was another experience in and of itself. He exposed just his head, letting the rest of his body remain below the surface. The unique contrast of warm pool water embracing his body while the cold rain pelted his shoulders. He could feel the droplets - their pressure, trying to dive deep enough to reach his shoulders - never obtaining their goal.

He'd float there, going in between time below and above the surface until the first crack of lightning illuminated the sky. He didn't wait to count the time before the boom of thunder. It didn't matter how long it took - he didn't want to risk it. Climbing out the pool he made his way across the yard - no longer in a rush, his body now used to the chill of the rain. Stepping inside of the outdoor shower, his skin tingled, anticipating the hot water that was about to pour over it.

It no longer mattered that the lightning and thunder were creeping up on him. Lost amongst the billowing steam, he felt untouchable.

Invincible.

As the world continued to pour down on him, he couldn't help but smile.






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Song of the Day (What's Left of the Flag) 04.05.13

Holy. Shit.

It's April already. Where is time going? At least on a happy note it's Friday! Wahoo! Which also means, song time!

This week I'm going way back, kind of old school. When I first entered high school, I discovered a punk band from Boston, that had deep roots in the Celtic community. For all of you who don't know what I'm talking about, that would be The Dropkick Murphys. I was infatuated with them. I knew every lyric to every song, pleaded my parents to go to one of their shows, wore their t-shirts. But oddly enough, before I saw them, my dad brought me to a show that was being held at the college he worked for, which was also another Celtic Punk band, with a tad of folk tossed in. At first I wasn't too thrilled. It wasn't a Murphys show, I didn't know this band, it was with my dad. I'll admit it now. I was being an idiot. Because that night, I discovered Flogging Molly and my world literally changed. As much as I love the Murphy's, Flogging Molly will always be nearer and dearer to my heart. Their music isn't just Celtic themed, it literally is Celtic. What they sing about, the band members themselves, the emotion behind the performance - all from Ireland (and I am half O'Brien after all). I share this music with my Mom, with my friends. There is something universal about their sound, the stories created by their lyrics. I could literally sit down and listen to them at any moment and become lost in the music.

And I'd prefer if you took a moment and got lost too. This is Flogging Molly's "What's Left of the Flag."











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The City That Never Sleeps Vs. The City of Love

We've reached that time in the week, when we can all just breathe a little easier. Put our feet up. Kick back a bit. Yes - it's not over, but with only a day left, it might as well be. And I'll be the first to admit I'm happy this week is coming to a close. It's been a bit too crazy and I'm looking forward to having an affair with my bed the next two days.

But before the week officially ends - let's watch some videos..

Now, all of you know I love Los Angeles. I honestly do. While there are times I hate it, get sick of it, want to pack up my things and move away, I know I'll be here for a little while. But as much as I'm now a "Californian" or become one of the beach bums of the West Coast, my heart will always be in the East, where I was born and raised. This following piece deals with NYC. A city I also love and have spent much time in (brother living there, family growing up there, visiting, etc). Realistically I need to stay in LA for a bit to grow my career in the film world, but I would love to make it back east and live in NYC, even for a short period. Ideally I'd be bicoastal if I could - but no way do I have the money for that yet (one can dream). But back to it - this piece shows how amazing New York is by asking its inhabitants one simple thing. How would you describe NYC in only three words?

Not only is it great to hear so many different takes on the question, I love the montages relating to each topic addressed. Hearing the different accents and languages. The changes in music. The joy in everyone's faces.

It all makes me miss the Big Apple.

3 words for NYC from Cokau on Vimeo.



So why the Vs. in the title you ask? I'll admit, this isn't really about two different cities squaring off for which is better. Both are wonderful for their own reasons. New York's wonderful characteristics are showcased above, but now it is time for Paris to shine. At first I was going to use the name "City of Lights" which Paris is also known as, but lets be honest - New York itself is massively bright as well, so that just didn't seem fitting. Take what I have to say with a grain of salt though - since I've only been there for four days. Yes, the people can be a little frigid at first - but as long as you "attempt" to speak French, as poorly as it may turn out, they'll quickly warm up to you. Man, what can I say about Paris. Just about everything is wonderful to me. The architecture, the smells, how the city blueprint mimics the rings of a tree, the accents, the love in everyone's eyes, The Eiffel Tower. Cobblestone streets, fresh bread, coffee, art. It's one of the few places I've instantly fallen in love with (along with Lisbon and San Francisco - which strangely enough both remind me of Paris in their own ways).

And in reference to the video - it's just beautiful. I've posted some of this guy's work before (the Big Sur video) and love discovering when he posts new videos. This is just another example of why I need to buck up and buy a Black Magic camera. The images it captures are just absolutely stunning.

Also - you may ask why the videos I'm showcasing are so different. Well, personally, I think the charm of NYC comes from the people, who live there, while Paris is about the city itself - the streets, the walls, the buildings. New York is bustling, loud - so a video full of dialogue makes sense. Paris is slower, quieter, a tad more on the quaint side - thus a video that allows you to just observe.

Enjoy.

The Quiet City: Winter in Paris from Andrew Julian on Vimeo.





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Safe Passage

As he lay in bed, his mind kept drifting in and out. Lingering on one specific memory. Until his eyes finally shut and he was again on the boat.

Just sitting there. Looking out the row of windows in front of him, into the ocean. Watching the waves churn against one another - a deep lush blue contrasted against the clear, sunny sky above. Rays of light dove into the sea, illuminating it. Causing the surface to twinkle like a thousand disco balls. Occasionally a flock of birds would fly by - too far to tell what kind, most likely some sort of gull, off to find food or dry land. Never tired stopping to rest on the waves. As he sat there, marveling at the blue abyss that surrounded them he had his back pressed against the wall, trying to straighten out all the kinks that had formed during the early morning drive. Slowly but surely they were working themselves out. Vertebrae by vertebrae.

He wanted so dearly to close his eyes and fall asleep. Yet his body wouldn't allow it. Now that there was a moment to relax and catch up on some much needed rest, of course he couldn't. So he just soaked it all in. As a child he had grown up around the water. Raised on boats, amongst the waves. So even through his exhaustion he enjoyed where he was and appreciated every piece of it. The barely noticeable vibrations of the engine reverberating out through the floor. It's droning - locked away deep within the hull. The smell of the oil in the exhaust fumes. Rocking with the ocean, up and down slowly, as if it was trying to put the massive ship to sleep. Even the dried salt in the corner of the windows. It was all lovely.

All around him, other passengers provided the perfect entertainment. Straight ahead a family was handing out lunch. Bread with meat and cheese. The littlest son complaining that the loaf given to him wasn't the correct one, only to be persuaded by his mother that it indeed was. A few seats up from them a family of tourists sat, map spread out across their legs, plotting where next to go. To his left a young man read the local paper, sipping on a coffee that had come out of the onboard latte machine.

And to his right, most important of all, she sat, slightly slumped in her seat, dead asleep. It had been a long day for them both, but she was the first one to take advantage of the downtime, finding a comfortable spot and nuzzling up. So fast in fact, that her passport was still on the table in front of her, half beneath her hand. Gently sliding it out, he placed it in his pocket, where no one passing by could grab it. As he was moving his hand back to his lap, she reach out and took his hand in hers and brought it to her own lap, before quickly falling back asleep. The deeper and deeper she drifted, the looser and looser her grip around his hand became. Occasionally he looked over - her eyelids dancing back and forth, lost somewhere within a dream. Nothing seemed to be able to wake her. The crying baby behind them. The few large waves that caused the boat to rise and fall abruptly. Until his hand slipped from hers. The moment it broke free from her grasp, her eyes opened and she looked over at him. Without even realizing what had happened, he brought his hand back up and off she drifted again. The next time it happened, it was to show their tickets to a passing steward. Again, she woke quickly, the sleep still prevalent in her eyes, but returned to her peaceful state once his hand had become entangled within hers. Even the slightest move caused her eyes to open and her glance at him.

Later that day, he joked around with her about it. But it was simple she explained - it was when she felt safe, when she was able to drop her guard and fall asleep. At her most comfortable. A connection he wasn't sure if he'd be able to share with anyone else. So small yet so important. A memory he would hold onto forever.

Even if at the moment, as he lay in bed, his hand was empty.






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Vibrant

What a long last five days. Oof. Luckily things should be returning to normal tomorrow. I can't wait.

But until then, much like some of the previous Tuesdays, today will consist of a video. I'm not going to go nuts and go on a long tangent about it. I'll just present it as it is. The Festival of Colors. Now, I know I've posted about this at least once, if not each year I've had this blog going. It takes place in Utah every year and just looks like a genuinely awesome time.

Other than the occasional mouthful of powder, I don't really see any downsides to it. And look at everyone there - all smiles!

I think I could use a a trip to this Festival of Colors. Want to join me?









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Forest Games

Everyday she would walk out into the forest behind her house. It was just part of her routine. To get off the bus, make her way back home, place her backpack on the kitchen table and set out for the woods.

She had no intention of where she was going. Each day as she first crossed the barrier between pristinely trimmed grass and overgrown underbrush, there was no end goal. As her sneakers fell into the lush ferns and vines, she just let her body take her. Sometimes she found herself strolling along the lined pines of a long forgotten christmas tree farm or following the twists and turns of the river that churned and bubbled behind the house. Each day had always been somewhere new. A different adventure. But never too far. She had always listened to her parents' rule to never cross the stone wall at the edge of the property.

Until recently.

A few days prior, she had been walking along a path she had frequented before - looking about, soaking in the sights and sounds of spring. The chirping birds. The vibrant green leaves. Breathing in deeply the scent of newly budding trees. It all seemed so perfect. Until she reached the end of the path. The old and beaten stone wall standing in front of her. Every time she saw it she chuckled at how depressing it looked. Some of the stones had crackled long ago. The sun had sucked from it most of it's color - only saved by the few sprigs of moss that clung desperately to it. She couldn't help but wonder at what time had this wall ever kept anyone in, let alone out.

Before she even had time to second guess herself, she was up and over it in a few steps.

Down on the other side, the path looked older, less traveled, and warn -  as if the wall had been built over it in hope of hiding that it stretched on further into the woods. But now that she was there, she continued on. Curious what lay ahead.

It wasn't long before she lost track of time. The deeper she wandered, the thicker the woods became, blocking out the sun, only leaving small patches of sky above her. She was no longer sure how far she had come or how long she had been walking. Her legs were becoming tired and her stomach growled, anxious for a snack. All she could tell was that it was still the afternoon, since the sky had yet cindered. Right as she was getting ready to turn back, something caught her eye up in the distance. The corner of a building, jutting out a pocket of trees. As she approached, she was surprised to not only see how large the structure was, but how old it appeared - transported from some other time. Peeking her head in through a smashed window, she couldn't help but crawl inside - drawn by its dilapidated beauty.

The ceilings had to have been at least twenty feet at their highest. Large pillars encircled the main room. The large dome accented by peeling gold leafing. As she walked around, plumes of dust from each footstep wafted into the air. Everything was absolutely stunning. Plants had taken residency some time ago - leaves bursting in through window panes, roots had crept in through cracks in the wall - certain sections of the floor had been carpeted by moss. The forest was slowly reclaiming what had once belonged to it. But as she kept walking around, she thought she heard something off in the distance. A quiet laughter. Childlike, not much different from hers. Echoing down the hallways from somewhere deeper within the structure. Curious, she crept forward, holding her breath while listening - hoping to hear something over her beating heart. Sure enough, it came again, but this time closer and less innocent. Not sure what to do, she began backing up, trying to be as quiet as she could. But the giggling continued. Each echo closer than the last. As she turned to run, she noticed another set of footprints in the dust, right next to hers. Whoever was there was playing a game with her - one she had no intention of taking part in.

Closing her eyes, she just ran. Weaving down the hallways, around corners, eventually finding the window she came in through - jumping out into the forrest. She didn't waste any time, not even turning back to get a final look of the building - running so fast that outstretched leaves of the trees literally were whooshing past her face.

But even then, through the noise of her pounding feet on the path and the swirling wind, she swore she could hear someone calling for her to comeback and play with them again.





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