No, I didn’t understand a word of the title, either.But it amounts to an apology.

Here’s the deal. Around a month ago, I had received a ‘Tweet’ (damn techno-fuckery), a request, really, for something I was handing out for free. My friend Katelan had requested an Autobiography Title.

So, here I was, taking the new Threadsy out for a spin, when I noticed this request for the first time. I fell over myself, wondering how it could be possible that I could have been such a heartless bastard. How could I deny my friend an Autobiography Title?

So, clearly over-compensating, I have created THREE:

“A Romani Romance: A Gypsy’s Cannibalistic Adventures amongst the Aghori”

Sounds more like an anthropological study, but Katelan and I had a heated debate recently which featured cannibalism… uh, several times.

“I Paint Your Fate”

Had a hard time deciding between this and ‘Fate Painting for Fun and Profit’. For an illustrator with an (unhealthy) obsession with Tarot, it made sense.

“Bringing A Stick to a Gun Fight And Winning: The Life and Times of Katelan Foisey”

True story… but you’re going to have to hear about it from her.

So, there you are, Katelan. Much apologies for not getting on this sooner, but as well all know, the Holidays are the times to forgive, cherish, and possibly consume one another. Ta, all.

I’m a visionary, bitches. see the FUTURE that I’ve been stroking for ever.

View all that has come before! Betsy Hoffman and mine’s lil’ sketch show is now up with Episode II! Check out the TRAILER…

A post I wrote right before bed on Tuesday…

It’d be evening, and there would be a ring of corrupt law officials surrounding the town. I and my ragtag team of outlaw do-gooders, intent upon stemming the loss of life yet unwilling to let the oppression of our friends and family continue, sneak carefully by. If we can get to the capital, we might still get through. We might still find the Evil Mastermind/Corrupt Official/Dark Shaman who has taken control of this land through lies and near effortless corruption. There might still be a dawn.

But this ain’t the movies, so I guess I better just cast my vote. Unfortunately, it’s kind of useless. Mike Bloomberg is going to win the election.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Mike Bloomberg has done some pretty darn good things for this city. Education, for starters. I’m a personal fan of the bike lanes (which I have yet to see properly enforced, but I won’t press that issue (until he wins)). Budget, environment, support of gay rights… all good, good votes. Here’s the rub, and it’s a bit of a big one.

Forest City Ratner (the people who bought you the New York Times Building (who is, funny enough, the worst place to get information about this little topic) is trying to build a Basketball Stadium, as well as residential buildings, in the Atlantic Yards section of Brooklyn. The problem? There are people living there, homeowners with their families, who do not wish to leave. FCR’s reaction? Kick them out with Eminent Domain.

Apparently, with a little case of Kelo Vs. City of New London, a precedent was set that the construction jobs, taxes, and other development costs created the grounds of “public use.” Now, Eminent Domain is designed just for that, but only when a community directly benefits from it (a new road, a canal, railway, etc. etc.) Now? The taking of a private citizen’s land for a corporation’s benefit is allowed.

Now, if that strikes you as ass-backwards, congratulations. You’re not an idiot. If you still entertain the idea that this is okay, I won’t hold it against you. Just give me the keys to your place, I swear I’ll put two people making the same income as you in there, and the taxes thereof will constitute a greater community benefit then your life right now…

… except, of course, the little loophole in this scenario (hell, it isn’t even a loophole. To suggest a loophole is to contend that there is something in the law against this. Read on…). If you clicked on the link for Kelo upstairs, then you might have read to the problem which is this:

In the fight against her own city, Suzette Kelo (who wanted to keep her home, instead of sell it to Pfizer) lost  after months of legal battles. After millions of taxpayer dollars, the City of New London won the right to move Suzette Kelo out, and allow Pfizer to build their plant. Except THEY NEVER DID. The land that once held Suzette Kelo’s home stands empty, and none of the benefits that Pfizer promised materialized.

So, Brooklyn now has it’s own fight. And Mayor Bloomberg, who is almost assured to win this election, is behind Forest City Ratner 100%.

So, here I am. Your average citizen in what (once was) one of the greatest cities in America (hell, in the WORLD), thinking that there are lines you don’t cross. Lines that go beyond what the corrupt call ‘hard decisions’. Lines that really and truly tell the world that we have no excuses left. We are good people, fighting the good fight, or we play for the other team.

And one of the big ones? A big, glaring, line in the sand? Don’t rip people’s homes away to give to a company. That is evil, no two ways about it.

This is not simplistic. This is not naivete. You do not, under any circumstance, kick people out of their homes to make way for a privately-held stadium. Or a Pfizer plant. Once you do, it doesn’t MATTER what other good you have done. Because what defines good people in both literature and life are the ways that we cope with those rules, the ways that we come up with to get things done, and get them done RIGHT. In the long run, people don’t remember that you got things done efficiently or effectively, but rather they remember whether or not you played by these rules when you did it. This is the root of the saying ‘The road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions.’

Instead, here I write. Entertaining a hope that maybe, one day, someone will pay for these awful crimes. That the citizens of New York City will become New Yorkers again, tough and resilient and not letting a businessman pull wool over their eyes.

But in a city that, day by day, is having its culture stripped away and re-done into a shopping mall, there’s only so much one can expect. Only so much time before some “Urban Developer” looks twice at my home, and thinks it could be a very attractive Walmart.

My cell phone has not been turned on in two days. It sits lifelessly on the table in front of me, not a friend, but definitely a known acquaintance, cold and still. I should be feeling anxious, but I’m not. And email? Haven’t even opened a browser window. I can still feel the itch to get a head-start on some email work, start a wiki chain of fun facts to tell some of the friends I am with, or read some updated blogs. But no.

I am 100%, completely, off the grid. I swore to do it.

It is Sunday, September 27th, and I’m sitting in a small, lovely house in Cape Cod. It’s just past seven in the morning, and the light outside has the sleepy, cold quality that screams at me to go back to bed, pull that nice comforter up to my nose, and make a go of it until noon. Instead, I’m sipping coffee (that is actually steaming), listening to Neil Young, and writing about how much better life is, disconnected.

There’s no doubt  about it, it’s been a crazy damn summer. Many small jobs, two big ones (due at the same time), and several weddings (plus the planning of my own). So, when a friend of ours invited us to escape to Cape Cod for the cost of a car rental, naturally, the woman and I jumped.

When I was thinking of all the stress that the past few months had brought, I came to a realization about certain ‘triggers’ of anxiety. Namely, the ring of the cellphone and the chime of an email. Silly, maybe, but it occurred to me that most of the stress I experienced had nothing to do with my work, but rather in handling the reasonings and expectations of co-workers, freelancers, and clients.

So, I said to myself that if I was going to have a four-day break… and MAKE IT A TRUE BREAK, I am going to keep it off the grid. No cellphone, no email…hell, no WEB.

We left COA (Crack Of Ass) Friday morning, and as we were in the car, I recorded my VM that told everyone, definitively, I was NOT available. This was the toughest part, the real test of one’s convictions. Little thought-gremlins start popping up, telling you that this is a mistake, and you should maybe say you’ll ‘occasionally’ check voicemail, as compared to ‘won’t’. They’ll say you’re being rude. Standoff-ish. This is the point where you trully face that if work-based Armageddon does arrive, you’ll be the last at the party to know.

But, I forced myself to do it, and since then, it has been a mantra to keep the damn thing off. Really, when was the last time something apocalyptic happened? When was the last time that your presence, and nothing else, was the deciding factor in the fight between good and evil? I work hard to surround myself with smart, capable people… so, dammit, let them be smart and capable!

Quite frankly, the feelings fantastic. Worrisome at first? Sure. You get used to it, though. Without much thought, the brain starts to sift through the data you still have, ridding the natural compulsions to, say, wiki for an hour and call it ‘research’. Or to keep the volume on your laptop up, under the guise of listening to music, so that you can run over when the chime of an email pops through. The truly insidious thing is not so much that connectivity is ultimately a distraction, but more so that you’re not even aware of how MUCH a distraction it is. The new American Vacation will simply be defined as disconnect. Off the grid… out of range… gone, daddy, gone.

So, right now, it’s just me, a cup of coffee, and my trusty moleskin notebook. I’m not even back until Tuesday, and I don’t care. Goals, projects, and real FUN is as clear in my brain now as it hasn’t been in a long time. It truly HAS been a vacation, insofar that I am refreshed. It feels like my brain has been scrubbed clean and massaged into a better state of being. Hell, I am even looking forward to getting back.

Just not enough to turn on my email.

-J.

Lighting, lighting, lighting. Outside of camera sites, few ever talk about them. Recently, I was flipping through the latest issue of Filmmaker Magazine, and caught up with a new light that has come out. The LEDz Brute 30.

Now, it’s been rumored for the past few years that soon, VERY soon, LED lighting was going to step into the forefront of professional lighting scenarios. And why wouldn’t it? Small, portable, and using a fraction of the power required for a tungsten lamp, LED lighting is the way of the future.

For example. A 400-Watt HMI (Let’s say the Pocket Par from Arri) is roughly equivalent in light output to the Brute 30. So, brightness  is taken care of. On the other hand, with the Par, you have to have your ballast, which is weighty (on top of the light itself), and something additional to bring along. LED lighting (as with the Brute) doesn’t need extensive power conversion, and can be plugged into your wall. And when you do? The Brute consumes 90 Watts, as compared to the previously stated 400.

So, same light output, no expensive and burdensome accessories… same price? Not yet. But as time goes on, and competition starts to flare, the price point of these lights of the future will come down, as the technology behind them goes up. Imagine a light that is a flat sheet that you can stick to the wall. It keeps ME smiling…

Sorry for the delay on postings and what-not, but I have been pretty busy as of late. Aside from the shoot of one project and the pre-pro on another, I have also discovered the joys of Sun Poisoning. I will not go into it now, for fear of losing some of you to the rather… VISCERAL details of the condition, but needless to say my genius-yet-silly little daily postings where rather far from the mind. In fact, I need a vacation.

Yet, silliness will begin afresh tomorrow. Bon Soir, and a happy Sunday to you all.

So, my friend Betsy gave me a ring awhile back. She’s an actress who hails from the improv side of the fence, having done a great deal of work with the Upright Citizens Brigade. She had a couple of ideas for sketches, and wondered if I would direct a couple. Coming from a Python-drenched childhood (see Monty, not Anaconda), I said sure. Should be a blast.

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That’s right. Leave him be. I’m sick of it.

Everyone has decided to come down on the guy because of his style of filmmaking. Granted, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. He spends a lot of time on the action, the special effects, and maybe not so much on the characters. He’s not Martin Scorcsese… but on the other hand, he’s not trying to be.

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