Post by Anaheim Family YMCA. Giving back to the kids: I practically grew up in a Boys and Girls Club when I was young one, where i was introduced to Battle of the Planets and running around downtown Fullerton. When i got older i spent a summer at theYMCA's Camp Oceola. Remember to give when you can.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Sunday, April 20, 2014
...a night at the Mint...(short abstract)...
Where were those matches?
The lights weren't on in the room. They didn't need to be. Even through the dark jute curtains the lights of the Fremont adjacent to the Mint, the California Club across the street, the pulsating lights of the Golden Nugget even further, shot straight along the walls, casting crooked shadows. It was a hot night.
Beyond the lights the sky was open and infinite, as were the dark of the desert beyond the Strip. The lights shone off of the dunes. The town was getting quiet. It was 3:18 am. Despite the talk, every place gets quiet. It must. Lou has been enough places. Even Vegas grows still before dawn.
It is still amazing. He wondered at the lights. Even though he was 27, he wondered. He lit another cigarette and leaned with his arms along the handrail. The glass elevator would occasionally pass, but, as far as he could see it was empty. The thousands of lights felt like an audience. Lou had no performance for them.
And the neon? How much neon? Argon, neon, 'noble gases' - it was yet another miracle of modern science. Just six years ago, there across the desert, they tested another nuclear device. And, in the middle of a desert, an unforgiving one at that, here is the most modern city on Earth. Water, electricity, air conditioning, go go dancers...there is little wanting, but coolness. A light breeze...anything.
He noted his cigarette burned quickly. It was dry. He had gone through four in under the half an hour he had been back to the room.
"The AC is broken, sorry," from the little concierge. She was a dark thing, with dark red lipstick. She was perspiring despite the little fan they had on the desk. The smell of money was all around the casino. The smell of coins. The smell of bills. Sweat, desperation and, once in a while, the sound of joy as coins fell into the metal tray. Everyone got up from their chairs, no longer beholden to social more, and gawking as if it were an accident on the highway.
He flipped the Mint matchbook along his fingers. The elevator came up again. Where he expected it to be empty, there she is. She was staring at him with a look that she had a long day. She was tipsy; she was dying to sleep. She smirked a half-smirk. It was enough to make him hold his breath. She let off on the same floor he was on: floor 16.
The air changed. It was so slight, but noticeable only because of the stagnancy before. There was a breeze. He turned from the balcony and to the small dresser nearest him. He stared at the copy of Fail-Safe by Eugene Burdick and Harvey Wheeler. He couldn't make out the black concentric circles in this light. The color of cover looked white in the wash of red neon.
"Automatically," from page 138, "[Grady] looked down at the Fail-Safe box which was installed between him and the bombadier. For the first time in his flying career the bulb on top of the box was glowing red. Then his intellect caught up with his reflexes: this was the real thing....He reached for the S.S.B. radio switch. This would put him in direct contact with Omaha."
Burdick and Wheeler must have had an 'in' with some pilots. The USAF only started using SSB maybe ten years ago, the book was written in '62. HAM operators played with them before, a few were hired as contracted specialists, until the military engineers could get up to speed. Lou knew part of its history: he had received his advanced training in single channel radio operations many moons ago.
Why did Bridge want him to read the book? He nonchalantly handed over the Burdick book, then a Pynchon, a notebook and three hundred dollars. He gave him a formula for blackjack and told him not to push it. Lou couldn't help but think they were all connected somehow.
Either way it made him forget the young lady. He drew the curtains and marked the sound of cars had all but died away. The shooting star of the Mint looked like an asterisk through the dark of curtain.
He hit the bed and made a mental note of the 3200 in cash that he had wadded up into his shoe. He made a recall that he had latched the door. He hoped he would sleep enough of the hours before the stark sun of July pierced the room soon.
Beyond the lights the sky was open and infinite, as were the dark of the desert beyond the Strip. The lights shone off of the dunes. The town was getting quiet. It was 3:18 am. Despite the talk, every place gets quiet. It must. Lou has been enough places. Even Vegas grows still before dawn.It is still amazing. He wondered at the lights. Even though he was 27, he wondered. He lit another cigarette and leaned with his arms along the handrail. The glass elevator would occasionally pass, but, as far as he could see it was empty. The thousands of lights felt like an audience. Lou had no performance for them.
And the neon? How much neon? Argon, neon, 'noble gases' - it was yet another miracle of modern science. Just six years ago, there across the desert, they tested another nuclear device. And, in the middle of a desert, an unforgiving one at that, here is the most modern city on Earth. Water, electricity, air conditioning, go go dancers...there is little wanting, but coolness. A light breeze...anything.
He noted his cigarette burned quickly. It was dry. He had gone through four in under the half an hour he had been back to the room.
"The AC is broken, sorry," from the little concierge. She was a dark thing, with dark red lipstick. She was perspiring despite the little fan they had on the desk. The smell of money was all around the casino. The smell of coins. The smell of bills. Sweat, desperation and, once in a while, the sound of joy as coins fell into the metal tray. Everyone got up from their chairs, no longer beholden to social more, and gawking as if it were an accident on the highway.
The air changed. It was so slight, but noticeable only because of the stagnancy before. There was a breeze. He turned from the balcony and to the small dresser nearest him. He stared at the copy of Fail-Safe by Eugene Burdick and Harvey Wheeler. He couldn't make out the black concentric circles in this light. The color of cover looked white in the wash of red neon.
"Automatically," from page 138, "[Grady] looked down at the Fail-Safe box which was installed between him and the bombadier. For the first time in his flying career the bulb on top of the box was glowing red. Then his intellect caught up with his reflexes: this was the real thing....He reached for the S.S.B. radio switch. This would put him in direct contact with Omaha."
Burdick and Wheeler must have had an 'in' with some pilots. The USAF only started using SSB maybe ten years ago, the book was written in '62. HAM operators played with them before, a few were hired as contracted specialists, until the military engineers could get up to speed. Lou knew part of its history: he had received his advanced training in single channel radio operations many moons ago.
Why did Bridge want him to read the book? He nonchalantly handed over the Burdick book, then a Pynchon, a notebook and three hundred dollars. He gave him a formula for blackjack and told him not to push it. Lou couldn't help but think they were all connected somehow.
Either way it made him forget the young lady. He drew the curtains and marked the sound of cars had all but died away. The shooting star of the Mint looked like an asterisk through the dark of curtain.
He hit the bed and made a mental note of the 3200 in cash that he had wadded up into his shoe. He made a recall that he had latched the door. He hoped he would sleep enough of the hours before the stark sun of July pierced the room soon.
Monday, April 14, 2014
...wandering the night, on Twitter...13apr14...
Pitching the series of #night photos I've been putting on Twitter the last several weeks. Enjoying the nightly strolls around and everywhere. More to come the next two days from Vegas and Temecula.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
...Edwardian Jackal Night Sounds S1 E2...
Next set of six night sounds available on podbean or through your pod aggregator app of choice. This episode's theme is our nightly wandering and the music that underlines it.
Please remember to support creativity by purchasing the sound that is the backdrop to your life:
- "I Drove All Night" - Cyndi Lauper
- "Walking After Midnight" - Patsy Cline
- "In the Air Tonight" - Phil Collins
- "Angela" - Bob James
- "It Keeps You Running" - The Doobie Brothers
- "Walking in Memphis" - Marc Cohn
...Hemingway's Recommended Reading List...30mar14...
There is a terrific article as to not have to rehash it on openculture.com, about Arnold Samuelson and his request for writing advice from Ernest Hemingway. Samuelson was a 22-year-old who not only sought out Hemingway, but became his assistant for a year. At a dollar a day, the young man slept aboard Hemingway's cabin cruiser, Pilar. When Hemingway took out the cruiser for fishing expeditions or make runs to Cuba, he would offer the young man advice, eventually culminating into this article for Esquire.
I'll make no insipid allusions to Hemingway, but I ran into some parallels of books I enjoyed in my younger years. The hand-written note is below, but I've repeated it here for easier reading. I've also included links that will get you free versions:
Stephen Crane - "The Blue Hotel" or "The Open Boat"
Gustave Flaubert - "Madame Bovary"
James Joyce - "Dubliners"
Somerset Maugham - "Of Human Bondage"
Thomas Mann - "Buddenbrooks"
"The Oxford Book of English Verse"
e.e. cummings - "The Enormous Room"
Emily Bronte - "Wuthering Heights"
Henry James - "The American"
There was a time, so long ago - when I had tons of time to commit to reading and generally enjoying life - I was lucky to walk a similar track. So, Ernest and I may not have made exactly eye-to-eye, in fact I don't know how he would react to my brooding unlike-ability. But to downplay this whole thing, I'll describe each story the worst way possible, in the voice of a disinterested high school sophomore that is totally into YA but can't stand what the teacher assigns:
Stephen Crane - "The Open Boat" - it's about these four guys that are adrift in the ocean, but then they decide to go risk their lives for shore. They wish they had Percy Jackson there to roil the ocean waves. I just learned that word, 'roils'.
Somerset Maugham - "The Razor's Edge" - worst character name, Larry Darrell, who sounds like a 70s sitcom next door neighbor, is really sad after his experience in World War I. Even a two-dollar hooker couldn't make the man move until both had respective epiphanies.
Thomas Mann - "Death in Venice" - dude is a little too interested in a blonde kid at the beach. I'm like 'what?' there's a beach in Venice? And why are their vacationers during the plague?
"The Oxford Book of English Verse" - there were so many prints of this book, it rivaled the Bible. JK, the Bible is always number one. I totally looked it up. It's a fact.
e.e. cummings - "100 Selected Poems" - love that he wrote short poems, I'm mean really, really short poems. It reminds me of getting a handful of fortune cookies and then having to do a book report on it. Give me more, bitches!
Emily Bronte - "Wuthering Heights" - omg, I can't say anything bad about this book, because I'm tearing up right now. I just pray it never happens to me. So sad and beautiful.
Henry James - "The Ambassadors" - Can anyone explain this one to me? It's in English, but the words aren't making any sense in my head.
I'll make no insipid allusions to Hemingway, but I ran into some parallels of books I enjoyed in my younger years. The hand-written note is below, but I've repeated it here for easier reading. I've also included links that will get you free versions:
Gustave Flaubert - "Madame Bovary"
James Joyce - "Dubliners"
Somerset Maugham - "Of Human Bondage"
Thomas Mann - "Buddenbrooks"
"The Oxford Book of English Verse"
e.e. cummings - "The Enormous Room"
Emily Bronte - "Wuthering Heights"
Henry James - "The American"
There was a time, so long ago - when I had tons of time to commit to reading and generally enjoying life - I was lucky to walk a similar track. So, Ernest and I may not have made exactly eye-to-eye, in fact I don't know how he would react to my brooding unlike-ability. But to downplay this whole thing, I'll describe each story the worst way possible, in the voice of a disinterested high school sophomore that is totally into YA but can't stand what the teacher assigns:
Stephen Crane - "The Open Boat" - it's about these four guys that are adrift in the ocean, but then they decide to go risk their lives for shore. They wish they had Percy Jackson there to roil the ocean waves. I just learned that word, 'roils'.
Somerset Maugham - "The Razor's Edge" - worst character name, Larry Darrell, who sounds like a 70s sitcom next door neighbor, is really sad after his experience in World War I. Even a two-dollar hooker couldn't make the man move until both had respective epiphanies.
Thomas Mann - "Death in Venice" - dude is a little too interested in a blonde kid at the beach. I'm like 'what?' there's a beach in Venice? And why are their vacationers during the plague?
"The Oxford Book of English Verse" - there were so many prints of this book, it rivaled the Bible. JK, the Bible is always number one. I totally looked it up. It's a fact.
e.e. cummings - "100 Selected Poems" - love that he wrote short poems, I'm mean really, really short poems. It reminds me of getting a handful of fortune cookies and then having to do a book report on it. Give me more, bitches!
Emily Bronte - "Wuthering Heights" - omg, I can't say anything bad about this book, because I'm tearing up right now. I just pray it never happens to me. So sad and beautiful.
Henry James - "The Ambassadors" - Can anyone explain this one to me? It's in English, but the words aren't making any sense in my head.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
...Audrey Hepburn and chocolate...I refuse to hate the concept...
I rarely watch television traditionally anymore and this ad escaped me until recently. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a nymph on the screen, one who's beauty has no equal. I cycled the DVR backwards and I thought it was cut footage of Audrey into an ad. Usually, I can spot these out, but there was something a bit odd here. It was in HD with a filter to give it that late 60s noise, so it could not have been from prior footage. (The noise could have been done better, it is much too uniform to look authentic.)
After reading around, it was CG, but only the face. They shot the entire commercial on the Amalfi Coast in Southern Italy, using two different actresses as stand-ins for the late actress. Besides the face, the rest is all new footage. Interlaced by ad agency is the post-production work of a company called 'Framestore'.
From the Vogue article, one of the limited with behind the scenes footage. It appears that there was footage of the making of, but Galaxy/Dove nixed it to maintain the mystery of the ad. Photos that follow are from the actor in the car that whisks 'Audrey' away, Nick Hopper.
As you can see between the gif and these stills from the stand-in, the hair is intact. Imagine the spline and matching required to mesh the ears and the face as the shot moves in. You can see a little bit of the 'off' around the far right jaw line as it meets the neck. All in all, still incredible. Considering that this all CG, the expressions and eye blinks are spot-on.
 |
| The amazingly beautiful stand-ins. The taller woman to the left appears to be the 'standing/walking' Audrey whilst the one on the right is the sitting/close-up stand-in. |
Reading through the CG company's (Framestore) article, the company relied on a renderer dubbed "Arnold" by Solidangle. It's been used, most notably for me is in "Halo 4". The skin textures were amazing, as is described, "enabled the team to perfect the soft, translucent feel of real skin", with a "fur system...to break up the perfection of a raw CG render." Framestore attempted to replicate the eyes of the stand-in actresses, but it proved to difficult, so they went full CG. If anything, like it or no, it is an arresting ad. It also brings the allure of Audrey back again.
Audrey's Poem (spoken at her funeral):
For attractive lips, speak words of kindness..
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his/her fingers through it once a day.
People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone. Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you will find one at the end of each of your arms. As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands; one for helping yourself, and the other for helping others.
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