Uncategorized – Page 8

SPEW :: los angeles bike

created: Sometime mid to late 1995

Around late January of this year, I began to grow aware…again. To come aware of the fact that there is absolutley no truth to the saying that “The devil will find work for idle hands to do.” I was far from idle, mind you. But even prisinors’ are busy. Even the Govenor has some time on his hands. It’s just what you do with your free time that makes you the man that you are. Or the woman that you are.

My awareness led me to spend exactly what I had saved up from Lightworks on what I considered a completeltly, rationally, sane object. King Full Mt. Bike compliments of Gary Fisher & American Expresss. It was the top-tier of objects I’d coveted all my life.

And just when I think that this Bike will see just the boardwalk of Venice and never any single-track, I begin to notice the weather here in SoCal. Record highs and clear days drive me from venice up to Mid-City where I meet the groomsmen for a meal and a belly of tequilla compliments of El Coyote. What started as a gathering of specific clan, bled into riding further still to follow the rim of the level. I began to catch my breath as I played cue on full-size Canadian rules. I practiced my Swing-Dancing with Cricket to bootleg Frank from the George Burns Estate…no shit.

I have never been so on top of my game than ever before in my life. I realize this as I’m riding west-bound on Olympic crossing Robertson…approaching that little hill just before Century City before I get that phat decline ALL THE FUCKING WAY TO THE BOARDWALK ….14.3 miles of smiles. “You do not cry for me…I cry for you.”

I’m drunk.. I jut got home from said bike ride. I love you. I’m going to bed.
SHAMAN

SPEW :: phoenix dead show copy

created: Sometime between 1997 & 1998 for www.seanna.com for a pair of phoenix dead shows that occurred Spring 1990

See on Flickr

These are from a pair of Saturday/Sunday Dead Shows in the Spring of 90. The venue was Compton Terrace. I always said it was located North of Phoenix, but the tickets said Chandler. These were the Saturday afternoon shows. I arrived on Friday evening to me parents house and met up with Greg A. We were to be receiving a caravan late this night. I had given Jessie S what I considered to be explicitly written, door-to-door instructions on how to get from out the door & thru the yard of Linden House, 129.7 miles North to me parents house. And to be fair, they were accurate. Accurate to a fault. Concentrating on the details over here, I left out a key right turn over there. Sent 2 cars and what may have been 2 pipe-less Japanese bikes careening up into the bowl of Mummy Mountain. Jessie, Josh Z, Brian F, Matt J (plus 2 heads from USC) and Jonny H. Hours they spent up there, all 6 or so trying to make sense out of a phone-number-less direction that was missing a whole 9 syllables. Ever dealt with a Paradise Valley cop? After some clown home-owner de-evolved and started throwing river rocks at freshmen at 3 in the morning?

Meeting up with many Clan at the show, I was impressed at how territorial we all were. First, to have met up with 15+ strong within a crowd of 25 large…

Noel and SeJ came in later in the afternoon. And what I remember about them is that they kept bickering about a nonsensical issue. Noel, growing up in Connect-a-cut, had the experience that is was most certainly IL-legal to slow down on a two-lane freeway (in the fast lane mind you), turn into the median, drive across it, and wherever a window opened, pick the freeway back up in the other direction. Well, one of them forgot some essential staple of their daily routine and had to make a u-turn around Toltek. SeJ, needing to turn around, and ever so clear on the ins-and-outs of the Arizona legal System, campaigns that it is perfectly legal and somehow encouraged to make freeway u-turns. My mind cuts to Sej strongly urging Noel to believe him that she MUST be a fool for not believing him.

See on Flickr

Matt S, Margo M, Lauren ?, …..Then, to have grown a root literally in the same spot for 75% of the day. I rarely have met up with Clansmen at a show. usually just the Jettaload that brought us and maybe a pair or quintet of someone you saw in class just yesterday, but greet like long lost. Shakedown does that. Not to get sappy, but there is a tangible glee when you see someone you know amid all that dusty, smiley chaos. Sure the toxins and their various mixtures aid in this, but there are sober shows that eclipse the foggy ones.

We all managed to cling, and that’s what’s memorable about these photographs. These images, to date, are the clearest snapshots I’ve been able to capture into the emotion. Fairly odd how candids’ and semi-aware photographs capture images that are worthy of staring at.

See on Flickr

These pictures were taken undoubtedly after the First Set. And if I’m not mistaken, I believe that if you look closely into the eyes, you can distill wee blue unicorns prancing!

COMMUNIQUES :: marylon & doug

written: Sometime early 1995

Dear Marylon and Doug,

It is 10:30 on Wednesday the 31st, and it is finally raining cats and dogs here in LA.

It had been drizzling all day, but it didn’t really cut loose until this evening. When I went to my night classes at 7pm, it still had not poured like the weathermen had predicted. But when I got out at 10, it was unlike any other weather I’ve seen here yet. My only question is: what is it about massive weather systems that make the people in this city act so bizarre? On one hand, we have the 24-hour news coverage just in case it starts to rain hard enough for them to broadcast episodes of personal suffering…all in the name of ratings. On the other, everyone on the freeways continue to drive like business as usual…as if these roads are anything but usual. However, all is not deserving of pessimism in this city. Personally, I enjoy animated weather systems. They were always a release…a source of fun back in Arizona for they were so infrequent. Here, they do wonders to wash away the grime that builds up….sorry, I’m being pessimistic again!

The classes I’m taking are with an extension of UCLA that are held up at Universal City. Two classes that deal with the finer, more technical aspects of the post-production industry here in Hollywood – or in the world for that matter. In addition to learning the highly technical information about what makes up a video signal and what happens to it along it’s journey to being broadcast and received, but they’re also aggressively educating us on the latest in digital technologies that support the entertainment industry. My company is picking up the tab, so I’d be a fool not to take them up on the offer. In fact, some of my colleagues and I are in the process of drawing up a proposal to see if they’ll continue to further our collective education. See, all of “us” have at least a Bachelors degree. But what we all would like to see happen is if Tektronix, the parent company of Lightworks/USA, to allow us to customize a Masters. While it’s not a long shot to get them to fund this, the tricky part would be getting UCLA to accept the series of courses we consider to be worthy of a Masters degree. For one thing, the work that we are doing at Lightworks is , alone, worthy enough to write volumes on. It has never been done before. I’ll try and explain:

Non-Linear Editing…
Literally, it is the process of editing video tape (mostly, film transferred to tape: “telecine”) in a way that allows the editor immediate and random access to any and all material. Before, with “linear” editing, the editor would assemble the finished product from start to finish, one shot at a time. This allowed almost no flexibility. For example, if the editor realized that, while working on scene 45, s/he made a mistake in scene 13 (i.e.: it needed to be extended or shortened or the director has a change of mind). Everything that comes after scene 13 must be reassembled. Now, with the aide of “time-code”, there are numbers that have been saved that can be used as a referenced, but the physical element must still be re-edited. With non-linear, changes can be made immediately because the original physical element has been digitized onto computer hard drive. Consider the analogy of what the word-processor did to type-writing. What if you got done with a document and discovered you left out an important sentence in the first paragraph? Hopefully, you’d just have to re-type that first page…if the sentence wasn’t too long! So what Lightworks offers is an extremely intuitive system that is rooted in the basics of traditional film editing. Everything from the console to the Graphical User Interface refers back to film editing. Being so easy to use, yet using the latest innovations to speed up and simplify the process, Lightworks has recruited the finest motion picture editors in the world to work on their systems. Waterworld, Batman III, Die Hard III, Casino, Heat, and coming soon: Broken Arrow, Mission Impossible, Twister… the list goes on and on. The best (biggest) that Hollywood can produce. Needless to say, I have never taken so much pride in one thing as I have my achievements on this job. The system, however, is still a computer, which requires knowledge that I am at least a decade behind in. I come in where these systems are configured with an array of outboard devices like video tape machines, digital video machines, professional audio equipment, etc. These all get wired to one Lightworks system which get rack-mounted into flight-cases for mobility as well as durability. A lot of knowledge needed to be gained in a “sink-or-swim” environment so that I could help configure these systems together. Once they are set up and the 100’s of feet of cable dressed, it really does beginning to look like a work of art. All that wiring never looks like a rats nest…like the back of a home stereo. Yet, come to think of it, I’ve been doing things similar to this for years. Mom and Dad still call me “Media Boy” because I could hook up the cable and stereo and had a home-made home-theater.

I’m bucking the system that has given the bachelor party a bad name. As you may or may not already know, Brodie has asked me to be his best man in the wedding. And in addition to coordinating the groom’s side of the ceremony (I think), I must also get together with the groomsmen (sp?) to plan a celebration. Yet, I have a strong urge to do things differently than would be seen and done at a “traditional” bachelor party. Upon a suggestion of a colleague of mine, Phil, at the (world famous) Comedy Store, I think we’re shooting for what he has always called a “Stagg & Doe” party. He says that this is the way these things usually happen in Toronto where he’s from…it sounds good to me here in LA. The logic being eliminating the tasteless aspects of the celebration and combining the warmer sides of it. Since we’re all friends, why not all get together and celebrate as opposed to splitting up into strictly separate male/female soirees? I fully expect the two will congregate together before or during, but to have all of us together under one roof and cause seems warmer to me…more “productive” a party. Since Phil and I both work the “Main Room” at the Comedy Store, we were thinking of renting the place and packing us all in. We can pull it off for very cheap, we’d have a band for cheaper (Phil!), and who knows, it all may go very well. What do you think? I just have to “clear” it with my girlfriend Anna, who happens to be the Maid of Honor…my counterpart in more ways than one!!

Speaking of Anna, I am looking forward to introducing you to her. I don’t know if you’re aware of how long we have known each other. In the Fall of 1991, I was a new initiate in my Fraternity (DTD) at the University of Arizona, and she was a new initiate in her sorority (AF). And, as fraternities and sororities usually do, we would throw parties together. At one of these parties, we were introduced to each other by a mutual friend, and the rest, as they say, is history. We got along so well that friends of ours would always comment on how compatible we were. Despite that though, after six months of dating, our relationship began to run itself over some rocky terrain. While this separation was as bad as they come for collegiate dating, we still shared the same circle of friends and had classes in the same department. Yet, we went for roughly a whole year without saying so much as two words to each other. And just as though there was no excuse for this, there were even less words to describe why we eventually became best of friends during the Spring of 1993. Maybe it was because we had so much in common or the fact that we knew each other so well that we were well far away from any type of game-playing. Either way, we were inseparable for the rest of our stay at the U of A. In fact, we and our families spent our graduation day together. The most significant day of my like with the most significant person in my life at the time. Seeing as though we both wanted to follow some distant facet of the entertainment industry, we both headed west soon thereafter. Or friendship only grew deeper during this period of anxiety couple with exhilaration. We fed off each other for strength in the process of finding work in this industry. Remember, we were strictly friends. I don’t think either of us wanted to risk loosing the artistic union we shared. What happened next I can only attempt to explain. Perhaps it was our disgust with the patient, frustrating trial of the “dating scene” either for us here in CA or with old ties back in AZ. Either way, two best friends did what their friends had predicted all along and came back around full-circle. It makes perfect sense when you look at it in the light of what it is that makes up solidity of foundation in a healthy relationship. It must first begin with the respect that is gained only by friendship. Some couples may never have this need, others would do anything to have started with it. All we did was accept what, I think, had always been the natural progression…acceptation. And what was so romantic about it was that we both were so much in-tune that it was literally a discussion of feelings, emotions and fears concerning each other and our outlook together, and then…just a hug…just as before. Everything and nothing had changed. Needless to say, things have progressed since that night 8 months ago, and I have never felt better. In all the relationships that I’ve experienced in my life, nothing has ever even come close to scratching the surface of the groove that I am in with Anna. We’re both on top of our worlds. There’s just one problem: her world has migrated back to AZ to take an amazing job being her own boss printing her grandfathers pictures for the Arizona Historical Foundation. My only worry is that this project she’s undertaken will begin to take as long as I fear it will (she’s in charge of printing and archiving with a filing system over 10.000 negatives!!), and I’ll actually start to investigate the post- production industry in AZ! In addition to April, you will see her this summer as she will be coming up to Canada with me this year. It will have been three years since me last visit. Far too long.

Cricket and Brodie seem to be getting more and more excited as the weeks go by. Brodie and I have been trying to get all of the guys together to decide upon a day when we can all go get fitted for a tuxedo and choose a pattern for our vests. I really enjoy whenever I can get away and go over to their house. They have really taken off at full speed with fixing up a really nice house. It seems like every time I go over there, there is some new fixture on the wall or a new plant on the mantle.

I am looking forward to seeing the both of you in April for the wedding. Hopefully, I will get to hear from you before then. Please, let me know how Gil and Andy are doing in their lives. And as I have said before, I truly wish that we were able to see each other more often. I apologize for having let so much time lapse between writing at length. Although I find I can explain more precisely what is going on in my life when I can write it down, I seem to wait what seems to be far too long in doing so. And for that, I apologize. I hope you had yourselves a pleasant holiday season, and until I see you in April, I wish you the best.

much love,
Sean

COMMUNIQUES :: geri & fred

written: Sometime late 1994

Geri and Fred,

I got your postcard earlier this week and seriously had to study the picture in order to figure out which one of my friends belongs to this Kitty! Anna and I have many friends that are as loving of the feline as are we. Anna even had her passport picture taken while holding TumbleWeed, a Persian that she used to live with! Although cropped right below the ears, you can still make out that fluffy head.

Cricket and I are hard at work trying to find a great restaurant here in LA for when you arrive. There are SO many choices, though! Do the two of you have any preferences? Also, will you be coming into Long Beach or to San Pedro? Either port, I am of the opinion that the best restaurants in which to eat with out-of-town guests are in Hollywood. Perhaps you’ve heard of the House of Blues? In any case, there is one restaurant that all of us swear by called the Atlas Bar & Grill. Here, not only are the menu and kitchen filled with the best tasting meals, but the architecture is equally grand. On some nights, the dining area is converted to a dance floor on which you’ll find couples no older that 30-35 dancing to the Swing and war-time hits their parents would have danced to.

As you may or may not have heard, I have crossed a significant point in a mans life: Anna has finished her job in AZ and has moved in with me in Venice Beach…and I couldn’t be happier. I guess we’ve always known that it was going to happen, but like anything in the post-collegiate world, it came upon us MUCH quicker than expected. We both have very good attitudes about what it is that we’re here (Los Angeles) to do, and have set goals by which we should have made it possible to reach them. The beautiful thing is, now that we live together, we are more of a team: us against this City, as opposed to two struggling to make a name for ourselves. Others have offered their advice and their warnings about what we, as new “roommates”, should do or what we should be wary of, but the two of us are best friends, first & foremost. As I have said before, I am going to really enjoy introducing her to the two of you.

Looking forward to seeing you World Travelers after your cruise. And please, if you have any suggestions for that evening here in LA, please write or call either Cricket or myself. My number here at Ian Hale’s house is 310.578.9050. It’ll be a lot of fun having you in our city!

Sean

My “all too adult” business card is enclosed…I’m quite proud…it’s my first.

SPEW :: where credits due

created: March 3, 1998

note:
This was a monumentous idea i had for a coffeetable book on the then emerging art of opening credits. either a book or some other medium. remember, this was 98, before a lot of the self-publishing streams we NOW take for granted even existed. Since then, this new artform has taken a more prominent role in the majour motion picture as a whole. We’ve seen Kyle Cooper become a player. This is no longer a hot only-whispered topic. Its now old hat. But mark my words: Kyle Cooper will receive the 1st Oscar for the latest category: Best Opening Credits.

Where Credits Due…

First impressions

A duality must be recognized:
ONE:
The impression we get as we watch the credits as pure, unoppinionated viewers…swayed only by some feeling we have for the actors/directors previously viewed works. Or better yet, the blind-taste-test. Have the viewer sat down and the movie played…assuming that they’ve never heard of the film or actors before. But to be fair and nonpartial, the anticipation one feeles prior to a film is due, in part, to the presence of certain respected and genre-setting elements. A Director like Lucas or Spielberg, whose name precedes them, will cause the viewers anticipation, aghain: in some way, to be altered. At this point, we rarely, if ever (again) go into a film NOT knowing whose on the card.
DEAL WITH ANTICIPATION OF FILM DUE TO CREATIVE ELEMENTS

TWO:
The reprocessing of the information once the plot/narritive/film hase been revealed/told/viewed. A once-pass of some fine credits will, in many cases, send the viewer into the narritive with only a shread of a hint about what they’re about to see. Usually, they’re left with simply a mood or tone…like a taste in the mouth. However, once they’ve made the journey thru the film, they can go back and analyze the introduction credits for their true wieight in relationship to the whole. Jusge the narrative of the credits in relation to the narritive of the film. How much was revealed? Was it all back-story or was there simple a snap-shot of narritive-present-day…also to bring the viewer up to speed, but more to the pooint: to show a kind of “day in the life of…” Think the waking/dressing/leaving scenes in the credits of TRADING PLACES.

Judge the art/pace of the credits to that of the film. There are some that would,here, argue that films like SEVEN contained credits that very accuratly set the tone for the film to come. Yet, coming out of them, we cannot make tangible cognitive sense out of them. its only after the films narritive has been revealed…in all its detail that we remember that the fingers we saw in the credits WERE those of a compulsive…they WERE bandaged…they WERE writing in the same journals Freeman said would take 10 men years to sift thru.

Seperate entities in and of themselves.
Do they have seperate directors?
Whats the hierarchy?

What about the fact that the title-logos on the promo material dont always match the title-logo in the credits? Think RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK. The promo has this fanfare, ribald font that just spews “action-adventure” film. John Williams’ horns are RIGHT there with you when you read the title afterwards. However, once into the picture, the credits are somewhat sterile-white, accompanied by a markedly video-feel to them considering the richly textured stock of the film over which they appear. NOTE: the different fascets of the afore mentioned hieracrhy…that the producers that are in charge of marketing (at Paramount in the Dr. Jones case) are in seperate offices and on seperate pages from the producers of the physical element. They all might have the same cat sign their checks, but their output suggest that they operated autonomous of EACH OTHER throughout production.

Essense, in some way, to the music video…the editing, pace, etc

How much of the story should be revealed? At what cost symbolism (SPHERE, 007)

Credits that allow you to ignore their presence, their very substance VERSUS Credits whose very description (let alone any recognition as out of the ordinary) is the credits themselves. (flaming titles, mettal ones (a la T2).

ALL films have them. So what is it about the films whose credits stand out? Whose credits are such that they wrap you into a pre-narritive…for the keen eye. Films like THE GAME gave you first: animated puzzle peices breaking appart producers and directors names to get to THE GAME..no where was there a puzzle in the film…what was this? The standard: “Its a film called THE GAME. The title-credit should reflect this.” The puzzle gave way to the vintage films showing the wealthy in daylight. A boy. Presumably his father next to him. Stoic, yet overtly impatient. This man either really cold, or is one giant nerve. We see the detatched nature of the relationship this boy has with this fatehr. Its only thru flashbacks, later in the film that we learn the significance of the 16mm films within THE GAME credits.

Consider the film whose entry has no credits or the bare, egotistical minimum. Old films used to do this. There’d be the Studio first, which inthose days, was also the production company…usually the next title in todays films. Next, there’d be the stars, usually two, four at most…the drawing factor. This would be followed by the Director, and most likely the Story credit before that..perhaps thats where we caught the trend of letting the viewers enter the narritive with the Director as the last thing they see. Perhaps its a wise idea to let ALL the credits appear AFTER the film…for the sake of the viewer. That not even in a film like the new STAR WARS prequels should there be a credit to special effects by: And speaking of STAR WARS (trillogy)…there are 3 films that dont waste a thing. Its the 20th CENTURY FOX logo and extended score…black screen…that green lettering for LUCASFILM…then the famous: “A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR FAR AWAY…” What comes next is legendary in the annals of motion picture credits: The mighty scripture of a generation. The pure, unfettered PLOTSEED, rising forth like the stalk. The words where that which was essential for what was to come. The audince would have to know, in a nutshell, what was needed to understand the Rebellion against the Empire…the black and white. Not because the film was to change motion picture histiry…but because Lucas was broke, and the credits were placeholders for character development that he couldnt afford. Its not a cheap move…rather, its a very traditional one…to give the audience a wee written hint of the story thats to unfold. It lets them hit the ground running.

Find a film or 5 that DONT have intro-credits that include the set-dresser and craft service.

SEVEN
Music – NIN
Style – NIN
Image – Spacey writing in the journals, prepping, propping up scenes Freeman and Pitt were later to discover.
Credits Scrawled as if by Spacey himself. Minute little letters. Shifty, grainy characters. Rising and falling to screen with same tempo as score.
Edit – A frenic pace that must be compared to either the mind of Spacey or the…

SPHERE
Manipulation of credits.
Calm, slow L-R/R-L tracking of the credits, getting distorted and refracted by invisible sphere. Real-time refreaction. Credit would be rolling way small, way left-right, then go out of site behind something, only to snap on scren way large and refracted thru glass distortion of sphere…now taking up entire screen.

007, before Goldeneye
Credits that serve as function and form. Sillouhuetted women (tradmark Bond credit motif) taking sledgehammer and hammer, and sickle to Lenin. They are forcibly dismantling the very symbolistic icon of the Soviet Union…a main element of the plot to come. As always, these naked shadows are interacting in some way with the titles of the credits…as if they shared the same physical space…as if they actually had the word Broccolli tracking up and past them as they stood on Lenins nose.

ISLAND OF DR. MOREAU
Beautifully organic…yet the very antithesis of organic. Were dealing with gene-splicing and gene-manipulation in this film. But were not to know that, for we’re got to assume that the viewer is PURE. Having not been swayed into forming oppinions on the narritive before they’ve seen it. The view must remain the sequestered-jury before they hear or see anything. Back to MOREAU. The credits show the inherent beauty of our innerspace. These shots are cut with shots of the manipulation of this complexity…this order.

“The high-point of the movie is a bold display of jaw-dropping visuals during the opening credits…”
– JAMES PALMER – Daily Beacon Staff Writer

“In its favor, the film has an eye-catching opening credit sequence, lush scenery and some nice camera work.”
– Jean Oppenheimer – BoxOffice Magazine

“Except for a gripping title sequence, director John Frankenheimer (who last made the TNT movie Andersonville) can’t make heads or tails out of this mess.”
– Sean P. Means – Film.com

CONACT
Question:
Does the “credits” have to contain the credits? Cosmic/universal pull-back of Contact set pace for movie, smoothed you right over for the introduction of characters and narritive.

SPEW :: market street canadian race

created: march 30, 2003

seen & heard on Market street late saturday night:

screaming down both lanes of market, me in the stormtrooper occupying the inside lane, and 2 carloads of canadians in the outside. in some post-modern punk-rock American Grafitti cruising scene, incredibly strange music at massive volumes pouring out of all 3 vehicles, bursts of speed followed by readjustments to once again match up the windowlines. the whole time violating any posted vehicular occupancy laws, i saw one rosie driver seemingly push his entire thorax & arms out the drivers window at 40 mph. A positively glowing cindylooo – honourary canadian – repeating the same action, exposing the smiling faces & crumpled bodies in the back seat. Jimmy buzzing & darting right behind them exercising the bavarian high-fives & possibly a red-line there for a moment or two. all campaigning quite vigourously to get me to go to kellys for the night i knew i deserved but wasnt sure i could resolve. so tempting. i could see that a freaktrain of *THIS* breadth was going to be an etching of an evening. perhaps i has having too much fun waxing andretti on the SF streets that night. I caught air coming up dolores. ahh the fun we have when we are alive with “expanding and opportunity”

so… how was it? how was everyones weekend? didnt everyone get laughed at histerically as they spilt $12 of beer on themselves at the sharks game? no?

SPEW :: jared leto

created:
january 2002
back & forth between myself and (then) Heather Hamilton (dooce)

TO: DOOCE.COM (Heather B Hamilton)
JARED LETO
Krebbling up Haight street sooperbowl sunday in what can only be described as dashing punk runaway rags, complete with mis-cut locks of perhaps coloured hair. “jared leto,” anna sneaks out as she feigns another bite of our shawerma. by this time, the boy-ish faced urchin has reached a point where he, our wee table, and a well-dressed/dog-walking/non-plussed man on a mobile behind us, all culminate in a blocked artery of a sidewalk. i’m still staring at this gorgeous little punker, with these fucking eyes that could sober the rich. “oy, it sure does look like him,” i says. i cannot look away. he’s pivoting back around after putting a “30 seconds to mars” sticky on a trashcan. he’s grinning something fierce, complete with long blinks of the aforementioned eyes. he’s coming down from on high. he must have gone big last night and is now in that golden-pleasant warm-sun day-light of a psychedelic hangover. “no sean, thats him,” anna garbles under the napkin, her expression duly noted. and then, he has fixated on me, and is staring. no less then 7 feet between us. these are those moments in time, felt mostly whilst driving in severe conditions, where motion slows and thought-processes expand. he’s still staring. i cannot, and dare not look away. for it is really him now. seconds earlier a vaporish throwback – now clearly Jordan fucking Catalano. he speaks: “lookit’choo!” oh shit. “just lookitchoo, man!” aw no. “big man with your little dog! i like it!” i’m not alone in doing the cautioned turn of the head “who me?” expression. but sure enough, our man in Gap behind me has a wee dog. Mr Leto was not talking to me. by the time i turn back around, he’s gone sauntering back up the sidewalk. anna is smiling. i spend the rest of the day wondring where & why i’ve heard of “30 seconds to mars.”

From: Dooce.com – Heather B Hamilton
love your middle name, if that is your real middle name.

have to say that this is perhaps the best celebrity sighting ever submitted to dooce.com. best written, definitely. you captured him SO DEAD ON. god, this is good shit.

do you mind if i put it on the site?
TO: DOOCE.COM (Heather B Hamilton)
gurl,
i am only now fully distilling the events of this whirlwind week, and to a certain extent, month. you dont know me. nor i you. but somehow thats wholly irrellevant in the here & now. my story is not unique, you’ve heard this kind of thing thru & thru. if there’s but one thing i would seek to impart to you mizz hamilton is that, after years of batting it around like a fleshy wart, i have finally embarked upon a new course. anna would say this is a long time coming, and all digests down to sean finally doing something about it. you see, its too nebulous to offer the copious details you’re prolly expecting. but suffice to say, that upon the research expectant upon such a new blazed life-path, i have come across gems. not unlike the Stone of Romance, these shiny objects of design are beacons. they are north stars pointing me towards some far off shore. a fertile, yet welcomingly distant land to sail to, where i will revel in the burning of the boats.

the more you try to explain it, the less sense it’ll make anyway. so, at the risk of waxing even MORE obtuse, lets just say that i have throuroughly enjoyed the last 96 hours of continuous dooce.com & accompanying linkerage. again, as i mentioned upon blurbomat, i have stumbled upon something. the sight of which is alltogether fascinating & shy-inducing. as if, i’ve not right peering so jaw-gaped.

it all comes down to this: there are a lot of fucking talented people in the world when you realise how low you’ve considered the bar to have been. read that back to me. thank you. for 2 years ago, having finally accepted the web as a possible voice, ANY voice, let alone a hobby. i had a dream i had a dream about people actually being interested in a site that’d host all the 1000’s of images seanna had taken over the years. the stubborn scorpio didnt put too much a flame under’is arse, and has only come so far as www.seanna.com please be gentle…

a. hamilton is, indeed, my preferred name. the tartan i wore at me wedding to the loverly anna… she is my best friend and no less then the mirror upon which my love is bounced right back.
b. please post all & sunder with all the blessings the above text could ever provide. please see below.
c. i feel compelled to re-attend regular sessions of inspection upon dooce.com. most assuredly resulting in the obligitory submissions & long-winded missives. i hope thats ok.
d. my wordiness is a neurosis & at times, the only comfort to the brackish nature of the modern media mind. please, do not be afraid. i wish every good thing.

FOR THE ALBUM/BOOK LIST
(you’ve shown exceptional cruelty by limiting to twelve:one. the remainder 25:4 available upon request. and take note: this list’ll be massivly different had i chose merlot versus this tepid scotch. but thats another 29 paragraphs in & of itself)

sean hamilton alexander

flemenco sketches – miles davis
shawshank redemption – thomas newman/soundtrack
headphones – bjork
u-turn – solid doctor
got to get > tomorrow never – the beatles
the sherrif – fila brazillia
annanas – tosca
fallen arrow – ida
morningbell (any version) – radiohead
tracy i love you – luna
high fidelity – elvis costello

book – the proud highway – saga of a desperate southern gentleman 1955-1967 (by) Hunter s. Thompson

that is all…
love to Jon…

sean
hamilton
alexander

full measure

created: november 27, 2000

for anna goldwater alexander

i’ve found something. i have found something so pure, that only direct inspection and interaction will yeild its truths. these truths are neither finite nor objective, but their validity is unwavering. as unique as the print on a finger or the snoflake that melts upon it, i have found something as unique. for the lack of a better word, “find” *is* the term i use in the rightnow. for in the meatspace of my life, it is as if it were a miracle that i should be so lucky as to find something so intense and true. in dark rooms at late hours, when i have quieted enough to hear them, i am told to realize that it was *i* who was found by this truth. in even deeper bliss, i the atheist comes to the realization that this truth can only be explained by stating that i’ve been here “before.” this truth, while rising & ebbing with our lives, is a constant. so lucky i feel to have found this that i wish for my friends, all i know and love, to witness and interact with what i have found – for they too made me who i am. they too are my friends. they too are my ideas. they too are my audience. they too are my critics. they too are my window into who i am. it simply would not be a celebration of this truth if it were not attended by this family. you are my dear circus. all three rings we have – complete with cats and freaks and barkers and the coloured balloons. you all did me the honour of witnessing the ultimate celebration of what i have found. and as if is were not clearly evident beforehand, you all now know what it is that is so special about something so true and so right. my overwhelming emotions are all pointing towards a hope that all who are reading this right now will find and be found the same. for there is no luck. there is no angle. there is no other way to explain it then to say that if you be true to yourself and open it all up wide for all to see – as if a flag being put up a barren pole…only then will the other put up *their* flag for *you* to see. i beleive that this is my definition of hope. i cannot express any further then that. in a world full of near-misses and pitched attempts, there is nothing more important then hope.

that, in concert will a healthy frequency of analogy. i beleive certain things. i beleive (contrary to the above) that everything in this world, prior or next, can be explained by scientific theory or mathematical equation. i beleive that there is nothing so horrible in this world that it cannot be seen from some other better angle – even a hmourous one. i beleive that music and mathematics will be communication in a 100 years. i beleive in the word of extremely efficient offensive driving. but most specifically, i also beleive that lifes most hazardous and mind-boggling concepts can be helped along with the proper analogy.

take a song and its correlation to a life. my life, as all of yours, has been made scores richer by song – its elements, its standards, and most importantly, its path. a good song, in my minds ear, will start gradually and softly. not really knowing or being all too confident in where it is that its going to progress to. but before it *does* get too far, certain elements begin to repeat – patterns emerge, harmonies & scales, the accompaniment of multiple sources of sound, the direction of standards. the are measures. they are building blocks. by hearing all of these measures together, we get a very healthy sense of what the whole of the song is saying, or looks like, or sounds like – how well its all been put together. in here lies the hook. that melody or beat or combo of both that not only makes us who we are, but makes us visible and pleasing to others. a good song will have most of this repeat as a 2nd chorus, learning what worked from the first and repeating it with richer and fuller lyrics or arrangements. it shares the same framework of measures, but has grown and risen – almost as if the song is learning. some songs have more then 2. some lives have completely different sounding ones.

then, for me, something happens. at the point at which the song has risen and is proud and is accompanied by all that has made it strong, it takes a left. this is the bridge. the song has taken with it only the most special of its instruments. i takes on what seems to be an entirely new structure. the bridge is so damn nice. the bridge is the best part of the song…so far. it is at once a pleasant and calming reflection as well as a strong display of the expreience and structure that has brought is there. the bridge neednt be immediately coherent or predictable in its scales – for i beleive that the bridge is best realized once deep & well within it. there really are no standards for the length of the bridge, but every good song really needs one. for, by definition, it leads us to the other side.

that is where i must stop for lack of clarity. for i beleive that in my song of life, i have *just* begun the bridge. i hesitate to reflect as to the number of chorus i’ve just come thru. i hesitate to go on as to the specifics of the arrangement. you all know that better then i…really. what i do know is that my life has recently taken the most wonderfull of aural lefts. i am on the bridge and there is much to be digested and given back. i share this bridge with the most wonderfull of accompaniments that could ever have been played. i beleive it to be a brass. her instrument and mine have built my song to be one of tremendous beauty and depth, and i want all the world to hear. dammit.

my love – that truth of which i speak – is anna. i truly love thinking about and beleiving that anna and i have just begun our first full measure together. always intertwined yet seperate in our scales, we are now in a harmony that defies description. this is what i think about. this is my song. this is my life. i cannot tell you how much it means to me that you are with me anna. it will only be over the course of time that i may fully explain that – prolly by analogy. i wish for the whole of the circus to know that and to hear that and to feel that. they *are* me. i can think of no better way then these words – to thank all who have made me who i am, and who we are together…

shine on.
sha

SPEW :: holidays

created: january 1998

Well, here it is. 1998. No matter how I slice it, I cannot begin to get into the spirit of counting off the days until the millenia. I guess I’ve grown too accustomed to seeing a 19 in front of my dates. And I’ve only been here for 27 of them! However, there is nothing I trully enjoy more than watching the years roll past. For with every year, there are new advances in one spectrum of human achievement or another. As well, with every year, I begin to more fully appreciate the fact that this one will be the best year of my life…just like last years was better than the one preceeding. And if 1998 is going to fill those big shoes, then we’re in for a doosey.

When 1997 rang in, Anna and myself had been in the Bay Area for less than 4 months, and had only moved into the “gem” 6 weeks earlier. We had heard, in triplicate, how difficult it would be to make the transition to the 3rd most expensive city in the US. Anna, coming from Arizona, would most likely have the hardest time adjusting to the increased cost of living. Los Angeles, on the other hand, “afforded” me an opportunity to get used to paying 2x as much rent as I had in Tucson. We really had no intentions of letting the doom-slingers into our heads and sack our motivation. We were determined and in love and knowledgeable and practical and a slew of other adjectives. And looking back on it all now, I dont know whether it was those attributes in US that let the pendulum swing so nicely our way, or whether it was just pure luck…OUR definition of FATE. For on almost all points, we were able to steer clear of repeating the situations of others’ who had sought to warn us that the road up to San Francisco would be treacherous. To be fair, it was those same pessimists that took us in…to MAKE us make the transition…to give us a place to stay for the transition…a quiet place to pour over the want ads and our resumes. However, Anna and I hit the ground running. I literally had one day off: the day I drove up from Venice Beach. One day I was working for the motion picture industry in Hollywood, 2 days later, I was working for the computer software industry in the Bay Area. 1997 began with me beginning to pick up speed with my new position here at Broderbund’s Quality Assurance Department. I had been hired in mid November 1996, and spent the last weeks of that year trying to get a longview of what was expected as a software tester. Surely, there was more to the position than just playing computer games and reporting inconsistancies… right? Anna also found work in the computer software industry and took that time to send out over 200 resumes. Soon afterwards, she was working in the photo design department for WIRED magazine. And in the process, that has filled her coffers of knowledge, and she has built an agressive blend of digital and traditional skill-sets that she’s about to market to her “greener pastures.” The “we” of us had never been let out to run at full speed. Grand hopes coupled with meek expectations, to be sure, enables one to be floored by their achievments… but we had no idea.

Looking for a place to live in San Francisco was described to us as some sort of Hitchcockian ordeal, (think: North by NorthWest…the airplane scene) complete with tragically long sessions of barren results, then punctuated with high-level excitement, only to be shot back down to silence by either the prices or conditions or commute. We were meant to believe that the time spent looking would be one of the most frustrating and fruitless searches to date. Once again, we set out clinching our teeth, and ended up asking ourselves to pinch one another. On our third day panning, we struck gold. We have so much for so little, that we often think that theres GOT to be a catch. Yet, nothing of mention has reared up. Ok, maybe an ant-trail or two, but thats it. We’ve got a second bedroom that I’ve got dragging around as an office/library as well as a deck upon which I’ve been testing out these green thumbs that me mum has obviously passed on to me. However, Winter in San Francisco, and more specifically: the North Bay…coupled with a North facing deck, affords little or no sun, and I’m afraid that frost has taught some lessons. This has been our second XMas/New Years at 10 Circle Drive, and I have a strange feeling that theres going to be more of them here.

Having said all this, you may be feeling like this was “supposed” to be one of those Holiday card/letters that people send out BEFORE the holidays to fill in all of your relatives and acquaintances on how things are. And perhaps it started out as that, but mutation, in my minds’ eye, is a healthy and encouraged activity. There rarely goes by a week where I dont contemplate the dearth of knowledge I have about those with whom I have not spoken with in some time. And that is usually immediately followed by the notion that, like life, this is a two-way street and that there are those “out there” that have NO idea what it is that WE are up to. It all just gets to a point where the passive becomes something that active. It IS important to just send out the smoke-signal and let others know whats up. And especially in our case, for the past 18 months have been so grand. We all assume that conditions on each others sides’ are favourable in the absense of bad news…”no news is good news.” But that only goes so far. People grow up, yes…but that is rarely a linear path…and massive change can take place. The feelings expressed here are inherent in all of us; this isn’t a kathartic message. It is, however, the expression of our desires to start a ball in motion: to keep Y’ALL present in our lives & minds by using that two way street…a situation wherein WE stay present in YOUR lives & minds…

Sean & Anna
SEANNA

SPEW :: to fortin

created: july 4, 1997

SEDGE PARKER

His day…
Light a candle for it is his day…
The man still lives. Hope that this doesn’t offend.
I’ve learned, only since to trust instinct.
I know that things ‘people’ do are sometimes awful low.
What he chose as his craft is simultaneously spooky and romantic to me.
I rarely think that I deserve oversight of what he was…what he’ll always be.
So brief a union we had. A rope woven thick as opposed to long.

I’ve looked to you. I look to friends you’ve had.
Humble as you are, you MUST know spirits.

What insight hath he passed from over there?
To you, he MUST have dropped knowledge.

The depth with which you knew this kid…this man.
His transition must have been, for the lack of a better word: Brilliant.
Brilliant as in magnitude.
Brilliant as in clarity.
Brilliant as in PALS.

I have few. I have had two or three.
They let me know. At some point, I’ve let them in.
And only recently, they’ve let me know.

I am one that has discovered that I was dangerously close.
So close to spending the rest of my life in solitude.

From one “slow-burn” spark amid a firestorm of flame…
I was seared with the definition. Her name was Anna.

She has taught me volumes.
She has taught me depth.
She has taught me magnitude.
She has taught me clarity.
She, through me, has shed light on what a best friend is.

She has, in some sort of surrogate fashion, allowed me to appreciate the partner in crime I’m not able to commune with now.
That ‘someone’ that I, like most male youths’, shared as a child, yet lost on the way up the ramp to manhood.
Something so fucking tangible when I close my eyes as a male adult: the love for me PALS.
Something so foreign to me when I open them up: those same cats at me side.

She, through my stories, ARE those boys…who are now men.
By listening to me describe with fabulous detail the shenanigans…
She has become those who I have, only recently, to begin to seek in this world:
She is the Scott E. She is the Jason M. She is the Erin W.
She IS those men…for I cannot speak to those men…
They are gone. They have moved on. Regardless of the scars we left on each other.
Why? I cannot tell you.

You have memories you want to reach back and touch.
Boys you grew up with…you know them as men. You have that.

FUCK!! There was strength in numbers back then, remember that?
We unwittingly relied on the counterparts to ourselves. Our lives in their wits.

For myself, and I trust you as well, we were to meet our ultimate weakness.

You must’ve known when you first laid eyes on her…
…at some festive occasion, as I had with Anna.

Without knowing it, this was to be the spirit we willingly told Everything.
Spilt milk, my friend. Narration of our memories.

And man, I thought that I had some stories…

I may have never said it, but I envy the lawlessness that you must have enjoyed with your crew.
Details aside, you are able to share with members of that crew to this very day.
You are able to say that you are still tight.
Something you shared with them back in KC, I dont know.

Regardless of what we may have had in common when we first shook hands on that 3rd floor of that building late in the Summer of 89′, I was to envy.

At the risk of sounding cliché, Tucson was a new beginning for me. A snake shedding skin.
I wandered for 6 fucking years wondering if the “now” was real. If I had finally started.
And if there was 1 thing I could count on, it was the reminder that I had a lot of baggage.
Empty fucking baggage.

My stories were pale compared to those of my new friends. You and All The Rest.
I was SO must more content to listen to others spin webs.
And when I saw how fake my childhood friends became only 120 mines South, I cringed.

I never really felt ‘left out.’ I never wanted to ‘one up’ someone’s experience.
All I wanted was to gain strength from a host of new friends whom I admired deeply.
And that I did. I gained so much that filled canyons left by MY advancement FROM my friends.
You and all I met and loved from that town mean more to me that I can ever express.

Some so-called sages sing. Some construct prose. Me? I bounce.
We spin wonderful cathedrals of stories. I reminisce. I bounce the stories off of her.
And, my Gods, man…I cannot be the only one who realizes that every experience had “back then” had something approaching a spiritual meaning.

I havent the slightest clue where this either was intended to go or where it’s going now.

I just wanted YOU to know that I considered him a teacher.
Anybody can teach you something either by pointing or rehashing.
This man taught by example.
He threw the lesson out there either to be followed or to be tested.
I did not have a chance to pick his brain in the final hours, and for that I am truly sorry.
But I know know that the Man was special, and that I will always remember him as the champion of Duality…the man who’d give you either side of the story…”What kinda mood j’a in?”
Whether he knew it or not, he was wiser than us all for he was able to perform at that break-neck pace and still carve a smile…

“As if, reaching a peak; reaching a perch…looking back down at the Comfy Ones who’d been watching the Monkey climb…looking back down at them and saying, “Here?” And stabbing an arm to the Northern Sky, and shouting, literally to himself, “NO! There!” His climb was his business…something he did exceptionally well. For people like myself…I am unfortunate enough to know the Man when he was humble and level with the Circle, and to NOT know him, once he had made it to the Top.”

For that will always be a curse under which I may never let myself slide:
Having ALL the knowledge of what PALS meant, AND knowing his FUCKING NUMBER,
I allowed myself to live literally 1.5 miles from that Man, and NEVER make contact.

I’ve been to one funeral. AJ Switzer. He was a good friend. Kind of a role model now that I think about all that he taught…all the stories that he told…all the bucking of the system…
At that ceremony, his brother, who was “there”, said that just 12 hours earlier, he’d been saying some prophetic statements:

“Never go to bed angry, Man. Never go to bed with friends as strangers. Cause you’re never gonna know when (your) God is gonna pull your card… And you’re never gonna get to say what you wanted: “I’m Sorry,” “Thank you,” or “See you on the other side.””

Brian, I dont know…..
I’m sorry.
I’m thinking too much…and that’s always been good for me.
It’s always something that I’ve strived to document…like here.
I think about the kid every day.
I think about the shit I’d say.
I think about how much of a baby he was and how I could say anything to him I wanted…
I think about how quick he was to point out how Whet I was and where.

He, and the rest of the friends I gained in Tucson were collectively constructive….
It’s kinda like the beauty of the movie Swingers…

Here. we have an old premise: A dumped – hurt guy, who ‘must’ endure consolation from friends.
In every other rehashing of this storyline, the “friends” jab the guy. They point out how his weakness is that upon which he dwells. They jibe and make fun. They attempt to make him strong by pointing out that which he is better off thinking irrelevant.
In Swingers, however, the friends are the champions. The friends are the saviors.
They grab the destitute by the lapels, hoist him up and complement him.
They encourage him to get back on the wagon. They squelch his anxiety.
In return, he gives them Rebirth. He moves on. He becomes as strong as they say he is.
He finds his NewSelf.
If you havent seen the film, please…do me a favor and agree with me.

Nothing to wrap up, my friend. This, like all Jeep Trails, will forever lead to other Jeep Trails.

All I’ll say, is that the Man now has 2 days. Today is one.