Mood: ApatheticPosted June 18th 2006 by Dae
I suppose it's only fair that I notate the events of the last couple of days. I met Harry, a soft-spoken Scotsman of intermittent wit, just as Thursday afternoon was getting into its stride. After a brief banjo tutorial we availed ourself of the bus propitiously numbered 'sixteen'. Jom was four minutes late - time spent pointing at balding fat guys and saying 'there he is'. The evening inevitably found the coincidentally named Ian - Jom's father - Harry, Jom and myself taking dinner at a moderately palatable Italian on Lothian Road. It was some distance from what one might term 'comfortable'.
Praccy, Audrey & Jemmie turned up on Friday, as promised. Jom's dad made himself coveniantly absent. Games followed. Harry played Kirby, spending most of his time predictably metamorphosizing into a brick, while Jom's Young Link tracked a steady downward curve from the first glass to the last swig. Praccy, to his credit, played some G&W, though arguably his playstyle could have done with a lot less chair and a lot more parachute. SF2 quickly became a contest of whose retarded abuse of Blanka, Chun-Li or E. Honda was superior. There was pizza, there was wine (drunk too quickly by Jom, too slowly by myself, not at all by anyone else). Sleep was had by some (others, Audrey, elected to spend their evening reading Larkin's collected works chronologically, what the hell), fun was had by all.
If you weren't there, I can tell you this much: they're all pretty much exactly as you'd expect them to be.
Jets Are Like Comets at SunsetPosted June 2nd 2006 by Dae
I was woken this morning at an ungodly hour, beckoned from my bed and sustained by sheer force of tea through a morning of Marianne and Minor Details... A pleasant precursor to an even more pleasant lunch on the grass of The Meadows, under the glorious sunshine and the shadows of overflying frisbees.
Attempts at work, after such a profoundly calming afternoon, came to nought, rendering me with no option but to don velvet and head to The Cameo's nine o' clock. On the way my efforts at an elegant saunter were swiftly stopped quite dead by no small test of moral character. I'd like to think they were sixteen, but let's be honest, they might well have been fifteen, and they, like most reasonable human beings most of the time, wanted a drink. Having availed myself similarly at their age, I was hardly in a position to decline, though I was unable to determine which mode of karma I'd thereby solicited. At very least I hope I inspired within them a good taste in lagers, and however encouraged to 'keep the change', landed that particular £1.81 squarely in a piece of destitute headgear. Brick, incidentally, did, while not without some failure, manage to jangle several of my more notable bells.
Don't go looking at me like that. The day I got news, news is what you get. The day I eat prawn-mayo in the park, you damn well shut up and act interested.
The Sunshine UndergroundPosted June 10th 2006 by Dae
Wanting to take it for something of a test-drive, I earlier popped out to pick up some cookies from the new local 'Tesco Metro'. Unbeknown to me (and whoever packaged the product, apparently) said cookies were laced with a not insignificant quantity of toffee, a revelation that, besides having much to say about the sad state of our great nation, caused me no small amount of anxiety. As it turned out, they tasted mostly like flapjacks, so it was cool. Edinburgh is all open windows and discarded socks today. Summer, with its accompanying prediliction with bare skin and cider, is well and truly arrived. I couldn't avoid watching England's first World Cup match... Joe Cole is the fucking win, frankly.
Anyway, I've been meaning to plug brickfilms.com for ages. The carefully crafted stop-motion animation of Lego is definitely an eccentric pursuit. There's something quite gratifying about realising, while browsing the site, how much time people spend on such patently pointless activities. When I travel down to England in a few weeks I might have to raid Angus' attic and see about some Film Noir á Lego.
Finally, we're but six days shy of this year's climactic social event: The Sixteenth. Everyone who's anyone, including such internet behemoths as Praccy, bladebrood, Fina and, of course, Jom's Dad, will be gracing my pad de bachelor. Tom was rather pleased when informed of the gaming situation ("...I feel a little more relaxed knowing that I have one thing I can bring to the meeting. Brutal 2D beatdowns."). Those of you clinging to such flimsy excuses as "being in a different country" to avoid this staggerin' gatherin' should be sure to make yourselves available over IM for the obvious live uncut geeky webcam sex. Those lucky enough to be invited should note that there is no student discount on the £25 door fee.
Bump SelectaPosted May 30th 2006 by Dae
Whoever it was who came round to my house and surreptitiously downloaded Ecuador and Encoire Une Fois, sir, I thank you. Seeing as I found them on the Mac however - too large, too silver for most of my associates to so much as entertain the prospect of using - I'm forced to consider that it was either acquired personally during some forgotten opium bender, or that it came preinstalled. I know that XP comes, or came, with an obscenely random David Byrne track preloaded, so I suppose it makes sense for Apple to kit their latest machines with euphoric nineties commercial dance.
Such pleasantries aside, I have today been, between Tunnock's Milk Chocolate Caramel Wafer Biscuits, smokes & coffees, quite singularly devoted to the editing mentioned in my last post. How indeed would I find the time to write 'news' were it not to avoid more constructive activity? On a dryer note, the 'basic' motion control facilities available in Final Cut pro are truly a godsend. With HD, digital zooming is at least feasible, while animated speed and rotation begins to give the editor a worrying quantity of creative control (potentially, at least). Gone are the days of cutting: we're into fast motion diagonally zooming cross-fading track pans now, darlings. All this and I haven't so much as opened After Effects. Within the confines of this 16:9 box, I am the will of God.
I Write Things on the InternetPosted January 1st 1970 by Dae
The dubious nature of PaPa's monographs aside, it seems to me high time that I made a news post. If things go as planned, this one should really put the 'un' firmly back into 'uninformative'.
If you believe their long defunct advertising campaign, "Lucky Strike separates the men from the boys... but not from the girls." As any purveyor of tobacco will know, the hobby is one that goes far beyond the mere act, nestling quite firmly in the realm of the connoisseur. It was Camels that first crushed my youthful abhorence of the cigarrete (being to this day a hand-rolling man through and through): a virginal obsession as much to do with their packaging than any significance of flavour. My second love of the substance abuse pantheon has proved to be the aforementioned Luckies, whose apparently nonsensical slogon 'It's Toasted' led me to a brief spell of research of which even Jom might approve. It was in that manner that I chanced upon archive.org, and more specifically this Lucky Strike advertisement from the late forties. Obviously, I couldn't restrain myself.
My days have mostly been occupied recently with the filming of Minor Details, a drama directed by friend Marianne as the main ingrediant of our final semester. We'll be done this Sunday: depending on how well the edit goes, I might get it up here for your perusal. As well as being Editor and Assistant Director, I seem to have inadvertently contracted the position of caterer, resulting in me spending this very evening up to my elbows in mayonnaise, attempting my homemade approximation of Coronation Chicken. By night I've been more concerned with Questionable Content, which I tried really hard to hate, and the usual diet of DotA's, digestive biscuits and the like. In other news, Jom, in the manner of Santa Clause, is coming to town, bringing with him an opportunity to meet Harry (and, by unlucky circumstance, Jemmie).