The Vicious Cut

Finished editing the special project I've been tied up with for work. Didn't get a hell of a lot of sleep this weekend, but it's done. There are adjustments that will have to be made over the next few days, but the toughest part is over, I think.

Editing is a curious art. You shoot this footage in the real world, you take it elsewhere and then you dissect the moments. Zoom in, slow down, warp, manipulate. Take it apart to put it together as something else. Something better, hopefully. Give it a different life by forcing it into a different context. You take those moments and you impose your sensibilities on them. Make a statement with a razor blade.

Arguably, I did a lot more work on this thing than The Company was expecting or needing, but even though it's essentially a corporate puff piece, my name's on there and this is part of what I claim to be my art and I wanted it to be impressive.

Of course, the by-product is a massive amount of ass-kissing points, and I'm not above cashing those in, but the only reason I've gone over-and-above with this project is because I was producing a video. I could have given this thing A LOT less attention and still would've come out ahead, but I enjoy challenges. And I wanted to make a corporate puff piece that's actually engaging. Not saying I've done that, but that's what I've tried to do.

The strike against me is, it took me MANY HOURS to get this done. Granted, it became a much larger project as it developed, and I did everything on my own, but I can't afford to freelance all over as a lone-gunman because it takes me too much time, and on an hourly basis some of these projects could be really cost-prohibitive.

I'm also thinking I'm not editing in the most efficient manner possible. I make my rough assembly cut, a tighter cut, and then a vicious cut. I've got my own system and I can get something done, but I probably end up wasting a lot of time because most of what I can do with these programs is self-taught. I started watching Errol Morris's First Person documentary series and I'm just amazed at what he manages to do. While I'm watching it, I'm just trying to figure out what he had to go through to put the pieces together...

one last sucker punch

anyone going to roger's birthday tonight who happens to be reading this blog -- congratulate Steve Huang on his marriage to Phuong Ho. they're married, on paper. they've been so for a while now. imagine the batshit offspring of THAT union...!

guess i've been picking on Steve a lot. it just slays me that people go to him for counsel. have conversations with him as if his advice were worth something. hell, i did it for a while. but just because he makes a laborious effort of articulating himself doesn't make him a deep thinker. he's just a shallow mumble-mouth, with nothing new or interesting or unique to offer the world.

Mike Yuan, I kinda feel sorrier for. his entire life is drinking and now he's gotta do that alone. sure, he can latch onto a group here or there, but who's really got the patience or the interest to hang out with this sorry fuck for an extended period of time? half the time i'd hang out with him, i only went because i felt sorry for him. and the pity lingers, but i'm done with him.

is it obvious enough that i dislike these assholes? have i made that clear in three entries? because i really need to get some work done this weekend...

Jackass City: Steve Huang & Mike Yuan

Because my previous entry may have raised some questions, here's a little more information, for anyone who's curious.

Took a coworker friend out for some drinks last night. Mike Yuan and Steve Huang show up. Fairly peaceful interactions.

Thing is, when Mike Yuan and Steve Huang get a few drinks into them, they love to rough-house. An old frat-house excuse to touch another man's skin. So, as soon as my coworker leaves, Mike Yuan and Steve Huang start hitting me. Why? This is their idea of "funny". Because they've got nothing to say. Because they're socially awkward, even without the booze. Because they're really just a couple of adolescent idiots.

I wasn't in the mood to be touched last night. Because he'd hit me, I hit Steve in the face. Steve starts screaming, "NOT IN THE FACE!!!" like a fucking lunatic and begins to PUNCH ME FULL FORCE IN THE SIDE OF MY HEAD. Several times. My ear's ringing.

I want to clock him back. I want to crush his fucking geek glasses into his eyesocket. But I know it'll just escalate. Because Steve is a fucking psychopath. And not in a way he should be in any way proud of. He's got some juvenile rage in him that's stored up from childhood. Dead daddy syndrome.

People on the street are stopping to watch now. Steve Huang and Mike Yuan are just fucking insane. But as much as I want to kick Steve's teeth into the cement, I hail a cab and leave the scene. Because I'm just so sick of having those idiots in my life.

So, fuck you, Steve. Fuck you, Mike. Maybe I'll see you in hell.

Amen.

Shoot Here and the World Gets Smaller

Steve Huang, aka "burno", can go fuck himself. Say hi to your little office crush, Tracey, you fucking moron. Hide away in your office world, dine with people and pretend to be a human being. We know you're psychotic. Maybe it's because your dad died when you were younger, you feel the need to kick holes in doors when you can. Boo hoo. Go write some shitty poetry, surround yourself with people who fall for it, and just FUCK OFF.

Michael Yuan, aka "meowking", ain't going anywhere in life. Socially incompetent, a sloppy drunk, and breath that stinks like fecal matter. He's a real ugly catch, ladies. He's so fucking pathetic it's kind of a waste to wish him ill, but whatever. Die horribly, Mike Yuan. Die alone. Die soon. I know you'll do it.

Tired of playing JACKASS with you two fags. Is hitting each other just an excuse for you to touch another man intimately? Well, you two have at it, then. Go pound each other. I'm gonna do something else. Something less homoerotic.

Good fucking riddance.

can i get an encore...? do you want more...?

Go home to your mother!
Doesn't SHE ever want you??
Tell her this isn't some COMMUNIST DAYCARE CENTER!
Tell your mother I hate her!!
Tell your mother I HATE YOU!!!

"Tell Your Mother (Hidden Soundclip)", Portrait of an American Family, Marilyn Manson

Well, I'm not much for introducing regular "bits" into my blog, but everyone seemed to have such a good time playing yesterday's "random 5" game -- and in these trying times, we need to hold onto something, don't we...?

My 5 Shuffled IPOD Tracks of the Day:
1. "End Credits", Nightbreed, Danny Elfman
2. "Zooropa", Zooropa, U2
3. "Crawlspace", To The 5 Boroughs, Beastie Boys
4. "One in a Million", Very, The Pet Shop Boys
5. "Tell Your Mother (Hidden Soundclip)", Portrait of an American Family, Marilyn Manson

I'm not accustomed to just putting my ipod on shuffle. Sometimes, you come up with some really strange things that you'd forgotten about or aren't really familiar with.

I've got so much work to do this weekend...

Got an accidental text message from a stupid c*** I used to know, she was probably drunk; some people need to delete numbers from their cell phones...

Hey kids: IT'S THURSDAY!
Now just one time, I wantch'all to SCREAM!!!

oh lord, don't give me what i deserve... come give me something i NEED...

been having really warped dreams lately and i can't exactly write about them here...

here's a fun activity to kill a few minutes, for all you IPOD fans:

put your IPOD on shuffle and leave a comment with the 5 songs you hear.

okay, me first!

1. Every Day Should Be A Holiday, Dandy Warhols
2. Dreaming and Remembering (Featuring Timeblind), Jason Forrest
3. Some of These Days, Danny Elfman Forbidden Zone Soundtrack
4. Mother, John Lennon
5. Chicken-Bone Circuit, RJD2

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

John Belluso has a posse

1970-2006
I didn't really know John too well in school. He was in my department (a few years ahead) and I saw him at the Student Council and he used to think my last name should be pronounced "Hide-and-Glow", but he was good friends with Merillon.

Merillon (Lonny) once told me that John liked to go to Tower Records and steal shitloads of CDs, because there was no shoplifting prevention system in place at the wheelchair ramp.

Like more and more people I went to school with, he'd been making a name for himself: as a playwright and he even wrote for HBO's Deadwood.

I wonder if I'll make it to 36...

Out of Touch

i always think it's funny when i get mass-blind-copied on an email from somebody i haven't heard from in forever letting me know their new email address/phone number. thanks, hon, i'll update my address book... i've kept the same email address for forever so i've never really done this, but if i did i imagine i wouldn't just BCC everyone in my address book. over half the people in my address book, i haven't interacted with in over 200 years.

in other malice news, i'm losing my mind with this special project at work. been working around the clock at home trying to get this shit done. wanted to hang out with people this weekend but i just couldn't spare the time.

also, i been noticing more and more white hair on my head. i am getting old. actually think it'll be cool to have a full mop of white hair one day. but what are the fucking odds i'll live that long...?

i was born to be a chalk outline.

end me

i know i'm getting paid for it, but the concept of being in the office on a friday is killing my soul. not even doing work. i'm just waiting around to interview people for this stupid work project. how in the fuck do people work on fridays?

anyone notice that this here blog's gotten a lot more profane as of late?

alls i know is, i'm doing a fuckload of work on something that nobody really cares about except my big boss.

and it may just be the cocaine paranoia, but i suspect that everyone is beginning to hate me here.

i can't wait until this is ended.

my fake smile

i'm tired of smiling. someone once told me that the act of smiling -- even if you don't feel like it -- can make you happier. what utter bullshit. i think i'm more miserable than ever. my body's rejecting my fake smile. yet i've got to keep it going through today and tomorrow, while i finish this special project @ work.

but it's okay. long weekend ahead. i'll kill some homeless people and feel right as rain again.

Porno for Pyros

because i'm smart, i knocked down the smoke alarm in my apartment and removed the battery so i can cook something without the fucking thing going off every 5 minutes.

last night, i was burning letters by the window. of course, the wind blows in and just ends up pushing all the smoke back into my apartment. next thing i know, the smoke alarm in the HALLWAY starts going off...

ha ha. i look stupid.

well, nobody knocked on my door, which is always a good sign. but i've got to find another venue for my cremations...

nicko's backyard?

MOTHERFUCK THIS FICTIONAL FUCKING HALLMARKDAY, PEPPER IT WITH BULLETHOLES AND RAPE ITS WOUNDS LIKE A FIVE-DOLLAR WHORE

was it ever important to me? no. yet now, for some reason, it fills me with the urge to vomit. it's a parade of hard-sell advertising. shovelware. a force-feeding of steaming horse-shit. HALLMARK's big EFF-YOU to the lonely and broken-hearted. everybody look at this party you're not invited to!

what the fuck's the percentage of singles in this silly fucking city? when are the people going to rise up? WAKE UP, WHITE PEOPLE.

and if you're in a relationship and you're going to have a romantic dinner with your special someone tonight, don't share it with any of your single friends. don't even blog about it or i will hunt you down and write you a love letter on a baseball bat. (and, you know, hit you with it.)

wow, what the fuck's up with malice? it's only valentine's day...

ashes to ashes, dust to dust

record dumping of snow here in the nor'east. stepped out sunday mourn to see an ambulance trying to dig its way out on my street.

it was a good day to stay in. knocked down the pesky smoke detector in my apartment and burned some old love letters. got a few more to burn yet. collecting the ashes in a plastic cup, gonna spread the remains somewhere at some point. i am hatred. i am venom. i am malice. my ugliest, most violent thoughts will be withheld from this site. i'd like to wipe out my memories.

to hell with love

i hate valentine's day. most people do, i guess, but i hate it just a little more now.


here's a pretty zombie.

oh shit, it's my pop's birthday today... can somebody call him on my behalf? i hate talking to him...

this has been a very well-thought-out blog entry. who wants ice cream?

brokeback stern

after a lot of resistance, howard stern watched an academy screener copy of Brokeback Mountain and declared it one of the best films he's ever seen.

guess it's just me and larry david and newop and son of the mourning holding out.

and that's my wednesday update!

Misanthropy News Roundup!

Soda Popinski!
I really hope this controversy doesn't slow down the development of my soft drink, Diet Dr. Date Rape. (Vanilla and Cherry.)


For All You Artists!
I know I've got a lot of talented artist friends out there: this is for you! (Good luck!)


The Perfect Crime!
"Experts" say that tv crime dramas like CSI are inadvertently creating better criminals. I watch LOST to learn how to become more of a disappointment week after week.

Wipe them out... ALL OF THEM...

Anybody read about this school bus driver who ran his bus like his own little empire?

I had a school bus driver one year in elementary school, she was a fucking bitch. She used to raise hell because I never said "hello" and "goodbye" to her. What's the big deal, school bus drivers?

I gotta get my pop a birthday gift for Thursday... how do you buy a gift for someone you don't understand...?

Go plaster Nicko's blog now.

the end of the world as we know it (and it feels okay)

i was walking around the city with christopha friday and we were marveling at how nice it was. it felt like a mild day in los angeles. 60 degrees, blue skies. long lines @ the jamba juice. it was surreal. slightly against nature, perhaps, but pretty comfortable...

of course, this mourn it's fucking cold. flurries on the walk to the train station. promises of a bitter week up here in the northeast of doomsville.

i'll be tied up with my stupid special project at work for the better of this week into the weekend. whine.

been having odd nightmares about hauntings and death. is the end nigh?

CACA-BOODY!!!

okay... here's my long shot...

my discovery of Mr. Sycamore provoked Son of the Mourning to ask me to find out about a movie he remembered watching as a kid, about a family of some sort who suffers a plane crash and turns their plane into a boat. i vaguely remembered this movie too, and some very clever searching led me to The Last Flight of Noah's Ark.

now, the thing that i remember seeing as a kid that i've never been able to find is an animated short (or series of shorts?) that aired on HBO. my sis and i saw it a million times. not sure what it was called, but it featured two little sisters (?) and the dialogue seemed kind of improvised. the older sister would be trying to tell a story and the younger sister would just be all over the place. there was a toilet involved at some point and the younger sister liked to yell out, "IT'S A CACABOODY!"

hand-drawn animation, a purple tint, the above image is a crude representation of what i remember one of the girls looking like.

this is really obscure. what i've found is that in 1983, HBO showed short films between movies (i'm assuming they came from film schools) in a feature called HBO Short Take.

find this for me. i want it.

long walk home

nothing like a long, liesurely walk home from work so i can minimize the value of my unlimited monthly metrocard. new york city really is unbearably picturesque. it's like walking through a series of fucking postcards. last night, i walked into St. Patrick's Cathedral and listened to Howard Stern on my ipod. it was nice and blasphemy.

everybody enjoying their '06? 1 month down. everything you dreamed of, dreamers? february's the shortest month: suck on that.

go tell nick-o what you think. NOW.

Gelflings: The New Batch

this is genuinely cool news. i love what Genndy Tartakovsky did with his animated Clone Wars shorts and i'm really excited to see what he's capable of doing with puppets and CGI. muppets need a comeback.

i had a crush on the above muppet when i was a kid. if i could own the original muppet... well let's just say, you wouldn't see me for a while...

over the weekend, i did a bit of catching up with all the crap i've DVR-ed and i have to say, i'm a fan of Aaron McGruder's Boondocks. disarmingly, it seems to take its cues from classic Charlie Brown specials and from japanese animation. it's got a refreshingly quiet tone/pacing like those old charlie brown specials, as well as a similar element of social commentary. while its look is imported from japan. took me a few episodes to get it, but i think it's pretty bold and brilliant and i'm surprised it made such a vibrant transition from the comics page to the screen. if only Bill Watterson would allow his masterful creation to be adapted so vividly.

and that's your malice entertainment news for today! now leave me... i want to be alone... really, i love it...

oh, by the way, nick"-o" is feeling a bit under the weather, so read up his little text blog and bomb him with comments. that will make ME feel better.