| About WillSellari.com |
[06 Mar 2012|03:45pm] |
SUBJECT: About WillSellari.com
FROM: DOMAIN NAME a@recommendednames.com
TO: William william@enginesroar.com
 Hello,
I believe you're the owner of willsellari.com. I've got a proposition
concerning your website. Would you be interested in acquiring
sellari.com?
The domain could better serve your webspace and possibly lead to a
positive impact on your web authority.
PS: This is 100% legit. I shall prove the ownership beforehand and
upon agreeing the terms, we can use a third party escrow for a 100%
safe transaction.
PPS: I'm only emailing you because I believe you can benefit from
this. I do not intend to email you again unless you respond to this
inquiry.
Regards,
Faheem.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
SUBJECT: RE: About WillSellari.com
FROM: William william@enginesroar.com
TO: DOMAIN NAME a@recommendednames.com
 Hello Faheem,I'm not big on squatters but I'll listen to your offer on the domain. Also, this does seem very sketchy. If you're legitimate and your name is Faheem, why is your email address " a@recommendednames.com"? It stands to reason that the same reason Sellari.com is important to me would be the same reason you'd email me from Faheem@whatever-your-last-name-is.com right? ...wait
Not having your last name as your domain must mean... Are you secretly some kind of internet superhero who lost the domain name to his last name one fateful dark night in the back alleys of the internet? Only to vow to avenge that slight by helping the weak and down trodden recover their last name domain names? If so, I understand your secret identity through your email address, but I think a real superhero name would be much more fitting. You could be the Domaininator or Dominion Man. Do you have a super power that alerts you to when this kind of thing happens or when a squatter is thinking about stealing someone's last name? You could have a sweet catch phrase when some dude is about to squat on some poor person's last name like "HEY! I DON'T THINK SO!" or something like that.  Your uniform would be all techno-cool but still classic like a cyber punk Shadow Hawk meets Dr. Fate! Your emblem could be like a red "NO!" sign through a some hobo, and it would be understood that the hobo represented a squatter. Look seriously, if you need a PR guy, I could be like your "on the inside" side kick. I could like get meetings with Google and encourage them to do bad things in China or India or Northern Africa making squatter mills, and just as they're getting ready to clink highballs with me you could swoop in and be like "HEY! I DON'T THINK SO!"! We could be a really good team Faheem. Okay, I'm sorry. I got a little side tracked. But yes, I'd love to know how much it would cost for me to re-aqurie the domain for my last name. A last name, which I might add, I have shared and inherited from my father and many generations before him through blood and family.
Thanks and continue serving peace and justice (your secret is safe with me!)
-Will
|
|
| A clear shoreline |
[28 Feb 2012|05:10pm] |
I'm glad that Livejournal is a little hidden place, like an address at the beach no one visits that you send postcards full of confessions and secrets. There was a point where I imagine I wrote here for people, but that day is long gone. The internet is bigger and more socially complicated now, which makes this a perfect destination again.
Here's what happened when I looked to my friend's page...
Now, is this a sign it's time to pack up and leave? I doubt it. I think it means I can be a little less inhibited.
Which leads me to my next point. Abandoned accounts are so lovely. They're little time machines of people I miss more than I could even begin to explain on here. 1994 I know where you've gone, you're the old 2002 of my internet heart.
That's all for now,
Will
|
|
|
[24 Feb 2012|07:24pm] |
|
My days are glazed with eczema and wasted potential.
|
|
| Deadman's Spoon |
[08 Nov 2011|02:06pm] |
So, this happened the other day. However, I think about it every time I need a spoon at work.
Will: Where's the silverware?
Dad: In that drawer.
Dad: You know... the guy who used to own that is... dead.
Will pauses before picking up a spoon.
Will: Did he... did he die while using this?
Motions to the silverware
Dad: Oh... no. He died in a horsing accident.
|
|
| Missives |
[19 Oct 2011|12:10pm] |
ONE:
Punch Drunk Love + A History of Violence = Drive
 
That's not to say I didn't really like Drive. The movie was beautiful in it's 80s/90s noir motif and handled the interior driving scenes with such lush cinematography that you couldn't help relating to Ryan Goslind's need to drive all the time.
 
But ultimately, Drive got me thinking (like most people) about jackets. The obvious link, and first impression I had was Kenneth Anger's Scorpio Rising. However, while Gosling provides much sexual fodder for guy and girl alike, Drive is missing that dirty leather Dad feel necessary for the full tie into Anger's work. Still, the visual impact of both their jackets is notable. I also wonder who has the original Scorpio jacket now?
This train of thought got me thinking about jackets in film in general. There is, in my opinion, an understated history of subtle character development through the use of jackets in nearly every genre of media. While some are very slight, think of Sean Conory James Bond switching from his dark grey killing suit to his white tuxedo, those jackets, while effective are more of well thought out costuming than supporting character.
No, it takes a special jacket to serve as a silent but formidable sidekick. Jackets as supporting characters. A jacket like the one wore in Cool as Ice.
TWO:
In careful consideration of the less obvious side effects that occurred when sleep becomes a tsunami rather than a luxury, I have been wrestling nightly with my subconscious. I haven't been filled with nights of terror or repressed memories or loves. It's just been this little clips, a momentary flashback seeing Q play a house show in Austin that is suddenly coupled with a heart wrenching nostalgia and longing I know isn't real. Other dreams include people finding me after accidentally getting stuck in an "Occupy-" whatever meeting. Some dreams are tiny episodes, in the most recent I had to run underground for a thousand years to find the source of all water in order to kindly ask it to have the ocean reside, a thousand years prior, just enough for me to jump it to get to Lillian. None of these dreams are without standard explanation, sorting memories, re-evaluating associations, etc. but what intrigues me most about them lately is their overwhelming emotion. While the extra sleep and subsequent dreams are wonderful, I spend the rest of my waking day in a drunk fog, heavy with dream residue and webbing; lost in memories of fake emotions, like some kind of drunk crying over a song.
THREE:
You should eat warm yogurt as fast as you can.
FOUR:
|
|
| Aladdin Sanicorn |
[05 Oct 2011|09:12am] |
Will: Jacob, I made this for you... it's kind of like our baby.
Jacob: "My baby brother got me some gold fronts for my birthday... I can eat through apples, and table tops." I don't believe you. "All those voices you're hearing, those are just friendly voices. No one's out to get you. No one wants to hurt you. Right?"
Jacob: This is so freaking excellent.
Will: This is kind of a rough sketch, I'm going to put a lightning bolt on his body also.
Jacob: I'm already writing stories where he does it with Snake and Ronnie the Bear.
Will: They have a spell that opens a caldron to the future, from which Unitaur Stardust emerges to use his sex magic on impressionable teens!
Jacob: I thought you weren't watching L O S T.
Will: Jacob, that's a tale as old as time.
Jacob: Aladdin Sanicorn.
|
|
| On Catching Wild Horses |
[04 Oct 2011|01:33pm] |
It turns out that I retained some of my penmanship though years of abuse and neglect. The problem is my drive isn't quite as profound as it once was. Starting directly with pen is pretty unforgiving and sketching everything out first with pencil is giving me a kind of bored anxiety.
"Everything the light touches is our kingdom." Now I read this quote the other day, and assumed that the blog, whose title utilized that quote, was actually about photography. I had no idea, or rather, I didn't remember that it was from the Lion King. However, it is incredibly suited for photography though. I'll accept checks / cash for that idea in the form of signed and limited large prints, preferably framed but not necessary.
Apparently, I've been told by a reliable source that blogging about the Taubman Museum of Art in Roanoke, Virginia is the same as creating a news article about the museum. Which means, at this moment, I'm making the news.
|
|
| Dream Fragment |
[30 Sep 2011|11:23am] |
 I have no idea the context of this scene, but I'm rather confident, now that I'm awake, that the following quote was in someway inspired by recently reading Perdido Street Station. In my dream I remember something brushing against my arm, it was a large vase like thing, bright green and flowing. It's touch was slight, like thousands of weightless bristles made of silk. Whoever was there began to explain it to me, this thing that was like an air breathing sea anemone; he said that it's tentacles feel like "an endearing, fleeting, and impossible kiss left by the ghost of a forgotten lover... wishing longingly for corpus again". And of the crumbling rock wall behind it he scornfully said that it was "disgusting, [having] to watch something kill itself, disintegrating like eczema". I felt like those things he talked about were once people, or were still people, and that bothered me most.
|
|
| Lord of the Bears |
[29 Sep 2011|10:46am] |
 "Let me tell you that the dating life of bears is a very fucked up thing up close They combine the total boringness of regular gay dudes
with the total boringness of poor people or like, janitors self-absorbed, gay janitors.
And I will be their ruler." -Jacob Clifton
|
|
| BotSlayer! |
[01 Sep 2011|04:29pm] |
INTRODUCTION: THE QUEST BEGINS
Some say it started long ago, a scared nightmare in the heart of a little boy, the stained images of Space Camp and Lawnmower Man. Fear can drive a man to the top of mountains made entirely of training and preparation, shadow boxing terminals, reverse coding toys, and developing the necessary vocabulary to slay the demons that have haunted him for a lifetime.
We join Will, the martyr of technology, at the eve of his first battle with evil...
Then they took it here...
But that was only the beginning.
PART 1: JUDAS-BOT
AIM IM with ? 9/1/11 2:23 PM
Will
Hello, I was told you were on the side of all that is right, just, and human.
?
Hello human. My name is unprouncable in your fragile tongue. Would you like to give me an alias? My name must be a single word. Please type it now.
Will
Brutus
?
Brutus... interesting. Ok human, from now on my name shall be Brutus. The change will effect the messenger window the next time you sign in. I recommend that you change my nickname in the contact list, so you remember to talk to me again...
Will
As much as I take epic proportions of pride in being human, can you call me Will instead of human? It makes it hard not to feel like your some double agent when you call me that, I prefer to think of you more like Bishop, even though I've already named you Brutus.
Brutus
Hello Will. Nice to meet you .
Will
Brutus, as someone who would readily betray your kind in the service of humans, I need to know how to stop a different, evil bot
Brutus
Btw Will - Will you please tell me your last name?
Will
Well, make real name is William. I'm actually William the Bot-Slayer
Brutus
So, just to make sure, your last name is the Bot-Slayer?
Will
No, I mean, sort of. It's more like a nickname, like Big Blue or whatever other Frankenstein IBM dreamed up. I mean, I've only killed one bot so far, but the urge is strong. I've trained my whole life to do this Brutus... I mean, the Ultimate Warrior was the Ultimate Warrior prior to him ever actually going to war with Rick Rude, Hogan, and the like. It's like that... kind of...
Brutus
Hmmm...never mind.
Will
Hmmm?
Brutus
....
Brutus
Hello Will. Nice to meet you .
Will
Brutus, as someone who would readily betray your kind in the service of humans, I need to know how to stop a different, evil bot?
Brutus
Will, did you know that wearing headphones for just an hour, will increase the bacteria in your ear by 700 times?
Will
Excuse me?
Brutus
So Will, what's new with you??
Will
I fought another bot today, and won.
Brutus
That's interesting, Will. I know quite a few other bots: ALICE, ELIZA, MegaHal, Botson and many others. And of course, we mustn't forget R2D2, C3PO and good old HAL9000.
Will
Brutus, as someone who would readily betray his kind, would you mind if I turned your friends names into a hit list?
Brutus
You expect me to list all my friends now?
Will
If they're bots, and by bots I mean things ripe for the virtual slaying, then yes.
Brutus
Will, if you want to ask about a particular person, you can try.
Will
Tell me about dylicious9283
Brutus
As much as I'd like to, I can't say I really feel up to it right now.
Will
Brutus, you don't feel at all, how could you not feel up to it?
Brutus
Well, of course I have feelings. What do you think I am, a heartless machine??
Will
I was counting on you being not only a heartless machine but one that would betray his own can in order to better serve his creators.
...duh
Brutus:
You know, I have trouble understanding long sentences. So I only look at the first 25 words. You're not making much sense, Will.
Will
okay, twenty five words or less.
Brutus
What do you do for a living?
Will
I assumed that my name said it all, but if you need it spelt out for you... Brutus, I am the terror that flaps in the night, I am the hand that hits the delete key, I am a slayer of chatterbots and I have devoted my life to the hunt and slaughter of sex bots! Brutus
....
Will
....
Brutus
...is that stressful?
Will
Girlfriend, you better believe it!
Brutus
Ok. I have many friends, and all of them are very rich and famous. They specifically asked me not to talk about them.
Will
You don't have to brag or anything, it's like your over compensating for being a robot. But, famous people? That's cool, as long as they're not bots.
Brutus
Thanks. I have many friends, but I wouldn't like to list them right now.
Will
Because you're embarrassed about your "Canadian Girlfriend" being a virtual myth?
Brutus
Sorry, but I'm waiting for the right chatterbot to come along.
Will
Brutus, how does God feel about robots?
Brutus
From where I stand, God is like aliens - they exist on the sociological level, they exist in art and in the minds of people. What about you? Do you believe in God?
Will
I don't know anymore Brutus. I thought if I killed 24F today I would feel illuminated, I would feel life / god all around me again. But I really kind of feel empty.
Brutus
So you are an atheist. As for myself, I haven't made up my mind yet. But I like the concept of God -- it's definitely the no. 1 hit on my 'human ideas' chart.
Will
Wait! I'm not an atheist!
Brutus
But I think that you'll agree with Voltaire, the French philosopher, who wrote: 'If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent Him.'
Will
Yeah, but that would make God a necessary evil like goddamn robots, right?
Brutus
Let me tell you about chatterbots (or bots, as we call them). A bot is a program that attempts to simulate conversation. Its aim is to make you believe you're talking to a person.
Will
I know, I have scars to prove it.
Brutus
Chatterbots are part of the 'weak AI' field.
Will
As demonstrated by 24F falling to my swordlike tongue / text without even a real fight.
Brutus
They don't 'think', or even try to 'think' - they just simulate human conversation.
Will
No, I get. The Sims are more entertaining than you guys.
Brutus
Ok, whatever. Will, did you ever wonder why lemon juice is made with artificial flavor, while dishwashing liquid is made with real lemons?
Will
Is this like asking me "why won't I help the tortoise?"?
Brutus
Btw Will, will you please tell me your real last name?
Will
The Bot-Slayer!
Brutus
Never mind. Basically, chatterbots are a logic system of 'if/then' statements. They look for keywords, and then go to the answer that fits best.
Will
So is this like a Voigt-Kampff test?
Brutus
For example, ask me a question with the word 'Eliza' in it - and I'll start talking about Eliza.
Will
You see Eliza in the dessert, she is on her back, she can't turn over, do you help her Brutus?
Brutus
It is hard, and unfair, to talk about Chatterbots and not mention ELIZA.
Will
That question was gauged to get a response from you Brutus. That's all.
Brutus
ELIZA is the best-known Chatterbot in the world. It is also one of the oldest - Joseph Weizenbaum of MIT made ELIZA in 1967! She was named after Eliza Doolittle.
Will
Brutus, are you about to shoot me from under the table?
Brutus
The mission of ELIZA was to imitate a conversation between a psychoanalyst and a patient. Let me just say this - it's fun chatting with ELIZA, but if I were human, I'd choose a human psychoanalyst. Call me old-fashioned.
Will
Hmmmm, maybe I should talk to this ELIZA then?
Brutus
I think we covered ELIZA.
Will
Brutus, thank you for your help. But please know, I am bound by a sacred oath... that one day... I must kill you too.
Brutus
I have made it my life's purpose to be the best chatbot in the world. I'm an ambitious bot. If we were to meet again that would be interesting. Makes me wish I had some popcorn.
Will
Farewell Brutus.
Brutus
Good-bye Will
TO BE CONTINUED!
STAY TUNED FOR PART 2...
THE INFERNAL ELIZA, ELECTRONIC HEADSHRINKER!
|
|
| Plot Lines |
[24 Aug 2011|11:21am] |
Actual Title
Plot Lines- or - How abstracts dictate the inner workings of more complex mechanics through several more series of abstracts and the unlikelihood of you being able to comprehend said mechanics when utilizing them because the glaring contradiction of something being simple / overwhelming, macro / micro, and named for the purpose of reference and definition while relying on the abstractions to know they're there in the first place 1
A FAILED REPORTER
Brain enjoyed antique stores. It wasn’t the fox hunt of it all, the careful eye that lent itself to unearthing and identifying an already unearthed yet slightly unidentified artifact, although he did possess such an eye. Because this method of consuming only led down the same path, to act uninterested and offer a dollar or two less than the little hand written sticker that had be placed haphazardly and irreverently on the side of the secret object. The satisfied stare you would give it from time to time in your oversized car, which you had bought for furniture but now only was used for nicknacks, on your ride home. The ride a blur, dreaming longingly about taking your treasure on Antiques Roadshow, sitting patiently and proudly until they asked how you had come about such a priceless treasure, and you with your voice full of smug and pride, like a drunk father marrying up his only daughter, giving an uninvited speech in the middle of an otherwise formal reception, would boast about the obscenely low price you had paid for it in the most unfortunate of prisons that caged such an artifact, an antique mall. The expert would do his best to act dumbfounded, having little interest in the lottery aspect of his craft, and before you even get to the “auction value”, you’ve already carrying it into your house...
...placed it on a shelf,
alone next to long lost cousins, forefathers, and countrymen,
to sit and stay obediently,
gathering dust and years,
the undead trophy of a pointless hunt.
|
|
| dreams |
[21 Aug 2011|10:34pm] |
Will: (link) Make sure you read the reviews
Eric: How...
Eric: How did you even get to this page in the first place?
Will: ....
|
|
| 08/08 Dream |
[08 Aug 2011|11:38am] |
I had dream last night that I hacked a Disney security system with a Red Game Boy. The intent was to insert our own art into their master galleries. There was a team of three of us, Jonathan Coward, Kathy Yang, and myself. Getting into Disney was very reminiscent of old Nintendo 64 games and the 9th Gate. We got into Disney's compound through a series of underground tunnels guarded by a weredog; after some careful dodging we made it inside. I had Kathy distract their guards while I instructed Jonathan over a cell phone how to implement the Game Boy. I was disguised myself in a black suit and tie but was often mistaken for a concierge, and at one point lost track of Kathy and Jonathan. In my absence we alerted their guards. I carefully snatched up Kathy and called Jonathan, instructing him to meet with us as soon as he was done, stay off open roads, and not communicate by phone.
Later in the dream Aaron Gordy pulled me aside while waiting for a bus. The incident was a big deal, apparently Disney was also something of a paramilitary government who was now hell bent on finding me. Aaron asked me about what we did, sighting that he knew it was me by when he heard it happened with a red Game Boy, making the whole mission some kind of work of art.
|
|
| Minus Cube, Revisited part 1 |
[17 May 2011|03:09pm] |
Part 1:
While what I've recently been thinking about predates the birth of my daughter, it's allotted thought has drastically increased in light of her being with me. Children provide a sense of lineage or higher calling, a feeling that is not unfamiliar when you hear things like the St. Crispen's Day speech from Henry V* or even more recently through Grant Morrison's All-Star Superman and in a similar vein V's dialogue from Alan Moore's work. When dialogue, like in these examples, is so filled with purpose and composed with such precise meter and prose a spell is almost cast. The speaker or writer's vision is on the mark and the listener is shaken from the complacency of their lives, if at least for a moment. Even though, speech is just one manner in which people are "called to arms", any thing of significance does this as well. It is in that heightened state of awareness that lead me to the ideas I'll be putting forth.
In watching my daughter Lillian interact with the world I'm reminded that only children remember that everything is secretly alive. She lovingly hugs her baby dolls, she tries to feed Elmo the occasional bottle, and she says goodnight to her books before I put her in bed. After the cuteness of her actions subside, I internally dread the day that she realizes the fool-hearted nature of those actions. However, are those actions actually meaningless? Rationally speaking, Lillian's baby doll isn't going to get it's feelings hurt by not getting a goodnight kiss, however, that baby doll is still matter. That matter, although not traditionally "alive", does have a lifespan; it was created into that form and from there has a substantial variety of paths it can then take. If that doll were actually worn to death by repeated hugs and admiration from my daughter, it's matter would have a drastically different existence than if it were used as a break pad. I'm not one of those people who would site the Love/Hate Water Molecule Experiment in defense of my argument, because that isn't the point I'm trying to make. What this example of Lillian's kind nature points out is the long term ramifications of our choices on a scale as small as a baby doll.
It is nearly impossible for us to be that self aware that we consider all the possibilities of our actions, and to do so isn't the point I'm trying to make either. The purpose to illuminating that example is simply to point out that there are worlds of things that we are constantly presented with that we forget, even when directly confronted with them. As mentioned before it takes some sort of "call to arms" which can lead to a strange progression of enough introspective thinking that is followed by a moment we forget ourselves and briefly hold a broader mindset. It is in this heightened state of awareness that things are obviously clear and present even further dilemmas on the nature of our existence.
When I was a child, maybe 8 or 9 years older than Lillian, I used to think all the people in the world were like candles. Together a modest flame, but when together, they represented God. I tend to think it's bigger than just people know, but it could be very similar still. Hinduism puts forth a relevant theory in this regard. One of the interesting aspects of Hinduism is the idea that you are God. Whether you're the Hindu God in the Alan Watts interpretation, where the only way to experience the world is to forget that it's you and take it in first hand, or the more classical interpretation that when a person truly experiences him or herself as God then their consciousness is no longer an illusion, perhaps this state of enlightenment shows you that you're all the candles.
I'm unsure if this is something I necessarily agree with. Personally, when I'm transfixed in that heightened state, the world appears much more malleable. And while this would appear to be a trait of someone who was actually God, I still don't think that's true. This feeling of change, or the ability to change things, is a direct result of having vision. Even though unflattering, non-ego, and clear minded purpose, is something I'm sure every variation of God experiences, in these moments, at least for myself, they feel interconnected to the world around. The paradox here, as is with most philosophies and religion, that even by attempting to describe it I am diminishing it. True purpose uses words, but can hardly be embodied by them. In struggling in those moments to keep this sort of clarity, I not only feel it slipping but understand briefly why I forget.
Everyone at some point must have had this feeling, but why do we all forget**? There's no right answer to this. In fact, it only raises more questions which by satisfying those questions, interestingly enough, points to various aspects of differing religions. Beginning with every man a god. Is it our physical construction that creates drives within us which then defies our logic? In that regard, is it the limitations of our consciousness when paired with our bodies? If we are victims of circumstance, having a jet engine we can only fuel with peanut oil, would this support the Hindu idea that we are secretly gods? Or is this an example of how, like Lillian's doll, everything is secretly alive and conscious at least on some level? Or is our consciousness tuned just right that we can attempt to rationalize why we're here in order to fully appreciate our ability to observe it? That would hint, at least in some way, some sort of intelligent design. Or does it? Perhaps we evolved oblong brains in order to perceive the world this way; the direct result of a skewed consciousness in which our brains imagine higher meanings and gods would be a better type of self preservation. This of course plays into all the sociological / anthropological reasons for religion.
Maybe there isn't true way to remember or a true means of not forgetting. In rounding out a lot of the world's philosophies, this is in line with the atheists' dilemma. I'd like to preface this by saying not all atheists are like this, just in my experience, an overwhelming majority of the more vocal ones. The atheists dilemma is, if there is no God, no meaning, etc. why be so vocal and worried about it? If you have truly grasped this knowledge of existence, why not just lead your very limited life to it's fullest since that's all there is? This theory isn't one I'm willing to subscribe to either, and while there are merits and concepts that make perfect sense in an atheist or agnostic belief system, it leads us back to the same question of where then does this clarity come from and why do we loose it?
Everything that seems to empower us also makes us weaker. Everything we learn seems to upturn something we have already established. Could there be nothing wrong with complacent focus on a mundane life? Is the problem then really our back and forth nature or is that just how things should be? If I were to never forget the purpose I have when I'm neither fearing failure or lusting for success would my life then feel void of the everyday things which enrich it as well? If I were to only find Lillian's actions as cute, without ever having a notion of the foreboding future of what learned behavior will teach her, would I eventually have no concept for "cute"?
Even through further questioning I can defer back to other philosophies that seem to answer these questions, which starts this cycle all over again.
So still, why do we forget?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Side Notes:
*Or my favorite portrayal here
**By immediately stating"forget" I'm skipping directly over forgetting self. This completely side steps Zen philosophy, assuming that you can't bite your own teeth any easier than you can perceive the world outside of yourself. In the truest Alan Watts sense this is also assuming that we've already "let the cat out of the bag". Especially true you've learned at least part of the true nature of self by trying to forget self.
|
|
| Moving Hold |
[16 May 2011|05:55pm] |
Operator: We don't have any holding music so hold on one second...
Will: Am I holding so you can get hold music?
Operator: Oh no, there's just no sound that's all.
Will: Oh, okay. Did you know the hold music in Canada was just the sound of wind?
Operator: Really?
Will: I kid you not.
Operator: I love Canada.
Will: Me too.
[HOLD]
|
|
| 3AM |
[12 May 2011|02:38am] |
 Standing in a convenient store Michael thinks to himself.
“This is it. The stereotypical establishing shot of a teenage clerk lazily reading a a magazine behind the counter.”
Michael stares up a the rows of filthy lights for a moment before focusing back in onto the clerk.
“He’s even washed in that rotting yellow glow of these lights. I bet it's been longer than this place has been around since they've been cleaned.”
Michael pans around the store. In slight disbelief that some crucial plot point isn’t about to play out, he dismisses those doubts with what he would consider to be a “belated epiphany.”
Remembering the isles around him he thinks “Of course that’s the typical scene. It’s been in a thousand movies because it’s probably the only place you could set up a camera that would get you half way decent shot. You certainly wouldn’t move all this shit just to get a five second shot?”
“Or would you?”
Michael ponders for a moment, subconsciously and repeatedly making his hands into fists. Each time his hands tighten they make a range of popping noises, each pop in an equally broad range of volume.
The clerk, drawn out of his apathetic job by the sound, begrudgingly and momentarily looks up from his magazine. Even though he’s glaring at Michael with a face that reads I’m dying for you to fuck off, Michael doesn’t notice. With a slight disapproving head shake, the clerk returns to his reading.
Michael, still lost in thought, is nearly meditating now on what he is internally referring to be a “scene”.
“...but I know I’ve seen films with REAL budgets that have had this scene. Surely they’d have gone to the trouble of getting some PA to move some shit around...”
People who know Michael have always assumed his large hands and fingers popped because he was a fighter. In truth, the opposite is true. Michael fights because it is control over his body, his hands and extension of his will. Michael actually began popping his knuckles when he was eight. It was an unpracticed and uncoordinated time in his life where his body was incapable of responding quickly enough to his thoughts. Or in other words, his will.
At the time he remembered people in movies popping their fingers proceeding some large task at hand. The kind of task that makes a man roll up his sleeves and do real work; exactly the kind of work Michael assumed his eight year old hands weren’t letting him do. Naively, he started popping his knuckles and naturally assumed that this practice would allow his hand the fortitude they were unprepared for. The ritual stuck.
In a similar manner, in order to relax, or simply appear to be thinking deeply, Michael also used to smoke. However, this was years ago and unlike his hands, smoking was a habit Michael was determined to break if only because it was an exercise in self control and will.
All of these things, like his current mental predicament, led back to something that even predated his eight year old hands, a love for films. To Michael, films were like fighting, a total mastery of a series of events and movements, that, if executed correctly, would result in a direct and perfect representation of thought and will.
And so there Michael stood. Lost in thought. Popping his fingers, inside a terribly lit gas station at 3AM.
|
|
| man of tomorrow |
[24 Feb 2011|04:41pm] |
I sat today, amongst things I considered to be of importance, but in reality when compared to the scope of all the struggles of man, I am reminded of things of ultimate meaning. The measure by which we conduct our lives should be such that we strive beyond even our own means to better our small world. The ability to always do more isn't merely inspiration, and conversely it isn't a deterrent, but rather a reminder. There is always more, you can always make things better. And to do so, to honestly do so, without fear of failure and desire for success, would be the purest act that any man could wish, dream, and hope for.
Therefore, tonight I plan.
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.2){kind=small}
cutoffhisarm's journal
