The Twin Gazes of Film Mature content No. 425 Published September 29th, 2024 11:25am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Is there any significance to Friday? Not anymore. This is just another morning. And Kerry is over there on the right-hand display again. God, she is so unique. Early this morning I dreamed of some woman that I do not know in life. I spent the time marveling at the dark appearance of her eyes and trying to relate her to someone I had known fairly well. There is no way to know who she was. Not Kerry; her eyes are green, I believe, and that is dependent upon the production design. I don’t know why I dreamed of such a person. I don’t need more visions in life or elsewhere, damn it. The morning is already a pile of shit. Yesterday I ended up with a partial head of steam and drove over the hill to visit one of the big stores. The trip turned out to be very successful as opposed to when I tried to find the same items locally. I also stopped off on the return for a few drinks and that segment of the trip was very quiet. I returned home some time later and took care of the usual evening business. Thanks to the hardware store, I have everything I need to build the drain system for the backyard as well as components for assembling the fog cooler. Is there any significance to Saturday? I should not have been watching all of the supplementary material that was added to the end of three films I purchased a few years ago. Totaling almost nine hours, there is a spread after the ‘credits crawl’ of each film that dives pretty deep into the process. I learned a ton of information, some of which hit me with the realization that the industry is not as different from the way it operated thirty-plus years ago. I am certain that not all studios work in the same way, though, meaning there are other productions that do not share such levels of detail and on-set work as with the three films in question. Kerry’s face is driving me nuts this morning. My feelings for her pale in comparison to the turmoil inside these days, to be honest. They pale quite a bit, and I am referring to the beginning of love. I am having problems with the passage of time and the manner in which I governed some of mine when a few opportunities arose which could have helped swing my path to and fro. I have to think about this for a little while because I can already see an end to this way of life creeping into my consciousness. It has been increasing in velocity for the last three days. There is probably nothing I can do about it, either, due to my having adjusted certain living parameters in order to be comfortable, and never looking very far ahead of where I had been standing. Another problem reared its head while I watched the first and third installments of the material, as well. A big problem, and something that now appears to be multifaceted in the face of everything I’ve already been feeling. More on the pile is not helping. I really don’t want to see that type of ‘brightness’ while lamenting my own processes throughout a period of many years. And believe me, the sight was about as bright, hopeful and positive as one may imagine. Seeing her reminded me of a close friend from the seventies who had a poster in his bedroom of a Panavision Panaflex Gold camera. All the way back then... He had a pretty good idea of what types of jobs he wanted to pursue. Ten years old. I failed to understand searching for a path at such a young age, and while watching the first part of all that material, something similar came along and hit me in the face pretty fucking hard. Eh... I made the decision to watch all that stuff so I should have been prepared for the pitfalls. Like I often tell others, ‘if you don’t like what you’re seeing on the screen, make a change’. I was full of wonder – and wondering – and part of me simply needed to find more information on the details of production because of the way so much has changed throughout the past twenty-plus years. I needed to know a few things and witness some of the work. Well, this is the result. I already mentioned that some of the processes involved were used in order to maintain a ‘classic’ method of filmmaking. That was a good portion of the problem inside me because I was convinced – without much investigation as opposed to assumptions – that the industry is vastly different than when I first became fascinated. This is not good. A period of roughly fifteen years has passed since my last idea to make a huge life change. That idea was left on the side of the road for two reasons I’ve already outlined here in spades, and over the course of many years. I need not go into it again. The bottom line is I was too afraid of making that change, and still am. Moreover, I am fifteen years older, and that fact raises the unanswerable question of ‘what would have happened?’, to mention just one. Not good. I cannot know, ever. All I can do is sit here and wonder. Saturday business will commence very soon. I still have coffee and a head full of bad thoughts. Some programs should not be viewed by yours truly because I am void of the ability to change anything, but sometimes I do it anyway, much like a handful of key films that always leave me fucking depressed afterward. There is nothing I can do about the feelings because too many years have passed that found me avoiding lifting a fucking finger to change anything. Unlike the other shit, I will accept some responsibility for allowing time to pass and sitting back while it crushed one of the largest dreams I’ve ever had. Of course, I can’t take all the credit. No fucking way. The two shit situations removed some of my long-term abilities before they had a chance to develop. There is no way around such a fact and I will argue the point until blue in the face. Wait... Flat on my face? Yes, that too. The whole thing is completely fucked up beyond rational thought. Despite the severity of this situation, the more I ponder my current condition, the more I realize certain very specific connections that developed over the last four-plus decades. They roll from fear and intimacy all the way to the other side of the planet and relate to my ongoing inability to take even the tiniest risk in life, from the simplicity of driving over the hill to go shopping and on to much larger, more dramatic changes that ‘could’ place me in a very uncomfortable situation. That means the rewards cannot hold a candle to inherent risk. Fucking sad. As I said, I will take some of the responsibility for my past periods of indecision, but not all of it. No way. Just... No fucking way. I have considered the relational analysis for far too long. Later. No more coffee. I am on to the morning cocktail because my head is about as sideways as it can get these days. This is a combination of two facets; film and everything else. If you don’t know what the latter refers to, read a few hundred older essays. Don’t blame me for a lack of knowledge. I just sit here and type. I had thought due to the way I have romanticized the industry throughout the last thirty years that it had left me on the side of the road. That is not true as of five years ago. 2019 was key, believe me. Key, unlike many other years. The 90s were wondrous because I was driven. No more of that. But... 2019 altered my thinking and has resulted in a realization I did not need to feel. Now my head is even more fucked up than prior to just a few days ago. And what can I do about it? Your guess is as good as mine. Believe me when I say that I have tried to find a positive avenue for many years. This latest mindset is pretty fucking bad and is beginning to rival that of the loss of the Raven. Not good. One thought that has been in the background for several weeks is the idea of acquiring another slipper. Doing so could really lift me for a long period of time. It will cost, though, and I am not only speaking of the initial purchase price. That car would quickly become yet another project, albeit one with the power to drive me up and out of the din far enough to actually survive. Maybe. There can be no way to know without jumping off a cliff. At least I have latent knowledge of what the slipper represented. Perhaps I’ll feel the same as I did more than fourteen years ago when I drove the car home from the dealer. Another positive is that my brain contains a vast amount of knowledge regarding the elusive model, from conception to manufacturing and on to the service aspects. Just like when the sentient weaponry stares at other people, the twin gazes are looking straight at me. This is good and not good at the same time. I have to get away from all that shit for a while. On other fronts, I secured materials for three different projects the other day. The drainage system is in process, the new storm door work is ready to begin (even though the door itself will not be here for two weeks), and the fog cooler has advanced to the point of only needing to be assembled. Between those three, I may be able to rise above the rest of my life’s considerations for a while. Distractions are always helpful. Once the morning cocktail is fully consumed, I plan to work on two out of three. The weather is sunny and warm – for this area, anyway – meaning I can comfortably work toward the two fronts throughout the afternoon. The music of life will follow along at each step. Anything, and I mean ANYTHING that has the power to pull me out of the din for a little while is always welcomed. I can’t speak for when those projects are finished, though. I’ll probably fall back to the point of feeling suicidal again. Hmm... There is a fourth endeavor awaiting my attention. I still need to power down this machine and go through the process of relocating it. I’ve not addressed it for a while due to the fact that I need some decent video media in the background while working, and with the control center inoperative, I will be forced to resort to the phone coupled to my wireless MDRs. I suppose a more productive mood must strike at the proper moment for the change to come to fruition. One of these days I’ll take care of it and reap the benefits. All of this is nothing more than a method of forgetting the bad shit for a time. I have no illusions anymore. If I continue watching the current series, both Kerry and Chiara are going to combine and derail anything further. Pieces of me are missing. That means when I see them, there is a deep-seated need for a repeat of the past, and that type of situation is no longer possible despite being one of the very few parts of life that keeps me alive. Either the projects will win or I will degrade into a pile of desire. In any case, I live with the knowledge that I am powerless to effect change in any positive direction. I believe the time has come – thanks mostly to the numbness resulting from my morning cocktail – to move away from the control center and work on something else, along with a period of loud music. I rarely break out of the daily norm, and apparently today is no different. Nothing surprises me anymore. Sunday. The drive is behind me. There was a FUCKING AMAZING sight when I directed the car from one side of the building, around two blocks, and to the alley behind. She was between, unfortunately, and I only caught a glimpse as I passed at speed and turned my head in the hope of seeing her through the parked cars, Well, I did. Spandex; purple and black. Lines on display. All of them. The sight was too damned quick for more information and I am frankly surprised to have seen her at all. The drive continued as I hoped she would appear again around the block. Nope. Marvelous. Good and bad? Mostly bad. I really needed to see more, damn it, and I am always willing to endure the pain and suffering just for the chance to learn if some woman out there within the masses could actually be ‘her’. That’s right, folks... The topic is on my mind each and every day without fail, and regardless of whether such thoughts end up here. Just know that the search does not end. I need her too much to cease my efforts. Those lines were amazing to no end and I was caught off-guard by her form and height. I can only hope that someone, somewhere, and at some time is telling her that she is beautiful. I can only hope. The way I felt as the car rounded the first corner can’t be adequately described here. The need was so strong that there is no way in hell I could ever convey as much to another person, let alone the damned keyboard. I just have to fucking lump it, like always. She was something to see. Um... Sunday. That paragraph went off the fucking rails. I shall try again. The drive is behind me and went very smoothly. This is the best day of the week because many do not work. The roads are mostly empty, meaning though there are still assholes and idiots all over the place, the advantage is there are fewer on this day. Better than nothing. I have the day to myself and my game is on during the early afternoon rather than morning like last week. This is good because I can have the bulk of my business out of the way prior to kickoff. Holy fuck is Chiara gorgeous sometimes. Scary, but lovely. Anyway, yesterday I drilled the cooler and fabricated most of the piping for the fog chiller. Today, I may or may not work on the interior platform that will hold dry ice. I might take care of the usual work and then relax for the duration. There is currently a shitload of very depressing thought processes inside my head and if I am to accomplish anything today and earn some down time for watching the game, I need to find a way to put it aside for a while. As I often muse, the more I see, the more I feel, and the less appealing are my remaining years. I don’t like it when Kerry does a nude scene. It makes me uncomfortable because my heart is involved rather than feelings of a physical nature. Damn. That was her decision and I respect it, but for me, I’d prefer she remain clothed for the duration. Anyway, at some point I will make up my mind as to how I should go about the work today. I may have mistitled this shit. My brain has been traveling all over the wonderland that is the film industry, and I can’t help but think that though I’ve railed about my feelings in the past, nothing has ever come across as a proper representation of the way film can hit me at times. It hurts, yes, but there is more, and the magical period toward the trailing end of the glowing years may have been key. I need to explore it more when the mood strikes. And yes, that was the time when I met the CD changer girl. Interesting, yet she was unrelated to my real love. The love was all over those screens we had mounted above the entrance to the CB shop. I probably went into this before, as well. The big dishes that were on the canopy of what had been a gas station in the past carried at least four signals into the shop, and from four different birds in orbit (satellites). That was the old way of doing things that eventually went the way of the dodo bird, or sometime during the late nineties. My place in the shop afforded me unrestricted access to lots of programming that was otherwise unavailable to me at the time. I am speaking of ‘cable’ channels – and yes, they are always referred to as much despite being completely wireless – that I’d not seen before, two of which allowed me inside the film and television industries at a time when some pretty fucking massive movie premieres were on the horizon (such as Jurassic Park). I was glued to the screen when the promotions and product tie-ins for summer movies were in full-swing. Even later, like two years after that wonderful summer, I was still full of wonder and excitement over the products that were branded for particular films. I remember my coworkers and I going goo-ga over ‘Congo caps’ that were atop bottles of soda and which contained game pieces. Getting back to ‘93 when I was at the shop, I now believe there was a very strong push for me toward the film industry that was born while working and watching entertainment channels dedicated to the same. Something very special took place at that time and I am having a hell of a time trying to describe my feelings. 'Jurassic Park' was a massive opening that was pushed by a $65 million marketing campaign which saturated the nation. Much of what drew my eyes to the main entertainment channel was information about the film, some of which had comprised short scenes and interviews with the main cast members. There were also ‘behind the scenes’ featurettes that pulled my attention unlike any other film opening to that point in history. At the same time, the grand opening of a few Planet Hollywood restaurant locations were featured, most notably the one inside the Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace in Vegas. That was fucking huge because the main investors were there – Schwarzenegger, Willis and Stallone – along with a slew of media coverage. The combination of the film and restaurant openings catapulted my dream of being involved somehow, mostly in the process of shooting a film. The summer in the shop was wondrous far beyond anything I am capable of describing right now. Maybe I made the point, and maybe this is not enough. I don't know. One thing for sure is by the time we left the state a few months later, my head was awash. My feelings carried on at least as strongly and all the way to the following summer when I went to the local movie theatre at least twice per week all by myself just to be immersed in the suspension of disbelief. Another early push was the dome in San Jose and the manner in which it kept the past glory of cinema alive and well for so long. I visited that theatre many times – along with two of its companion theatres nearby – throughout the glowing years. Going back and then forward, I will say that my earliest memory of the dome was seeing ‘Star Wars’ in 1977, and then after a roughly three-year hiatus in visiting the theatre I returned during 1996 to see ‘Eraser’ with a friend. The gap in time caused me to feel a bit unfamiliar with the venue, and when combined with a beautiful renovation while I was living in the Midwest, the result was my wide-eyed wonder at walking into the auditorium again and seeing one of the most dramatic displays of cinema prowess on the entire West Coast. The 74-foot curved screen hit me in the face unlike anything else for a very long time and I was immediately in love. I would like to try conveying the feeling of sitting directly centered while waiting for the lights to dim and the curtains to open, but the truth is I don’t believe I am able to fully get the point across. And yes, the auditorium still had motorized curtains hiding the screen when not in use. The entire building is circular, with the concession stand just inside the front doors and centered. Restrooms flank the twin concession lines on the outer edge, and the two entrances to the auditorium itself curved around from each end of the stand. I walked that path after forgetting its appearance for a few years, and around to the lower-middle section of seats as the screen stretched from just in front of me all the way to the opposite side. My heart was in my throat for a few minutes. I believe I’ve gone over some of the more dramatic film openings there, most likely in ‘The Fellowship of the Bling’. I can never say enough about the way I felt visiting that theatre again after being absent for a long while. As an aside, I will state that some of the people I’ve met here in this town are huge fans of the Star Wars franchise, and most of them were not born when the first film premiered. When I revealed that I was there during its opening week, there was a plethora of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from everyone. That’s pretty cool. The loss of that dome is akin to the loss of the Raven. Believe it. My love for the dome is analogous to my love for Her. Believe that one, too. I don’t believe there was a single catalyst at any point in the past. My love for the industry had to have been born of a combination of situations, two of which are above. There is more, too, such as when I returned from the Midwest and tried to write a screenplay, later using my dad’s 8mm video camera for experiments. Ah... Something else just popped into my brain, but not from the past. A recent realization that one of my favorite directors had felt as I did when he was young and fascinated by films. Later, however, our lives did not follow similar paths. He chased the dream and achieved it, whereas I chased after answers to questions that still plague me to this very moment. Marvelous. I cried at the end of one particular movie not long ago and that fucking realization was the reason. I really didn’t need that, but the fault is mine because I know full well what will happen to me if I view certain films from the past. Anyway, the realization hit me upside the head pretty bad, mostly due to the fact that I had forgotten such a story over a long period of time. The end of the film in question is a nod to his favorite place in the world, and mine as well. It is also an enormous homage to the industry in general, and the process of creating films in particular. Yes, all of that is inside the story. His creation shot me back in time to the summer when I watched all that media coverage of ‘Jurassic Park’ and other premieres and became completely enamored by every single fucking aspect of it. The film is also a problem for me because I can’t watch without losing my shit for a while and then walking around the house while going on a tirade about where I am versus where I always dreamed of residing (and I am not referring to a fucking town). I have to get away from this for a while and begin some housework. You probably already know that I will return to the keyboard shortly with a fatass cocktail. No shit, huh? And so it is. While cleaning the kitchen, I calculated that my description of the dome should have been tensed in the past rather than the present. It is there, albeit nothing but a hollow structure is all that remains of the once famous, beautiful and wondrous place that transported me and many others to far-off, fantastic places for five decades. I won’t even begin with the fucking parking lot antics. I’ve gone into that stuff before. Monday morning and I am pleased to be awake after a fairly frightening and unnerving dream. Ugh. I don’t know where the imagery came from, but I didn’t like it one bit. I wouldn’t really call it a nightmare, though, because the situation was not overly scary. Perhaps the movies are messing with my brain during the evening. Yep... I went straight back to the source of much of this discontentment over the past, the same three films that came along just after I watched one of the most damaging feature films ever. A story within a story is what comes to mind, although it’s actually a bit different than such a simple idea. Whatever it is, my head and heart end up smashed to bits by the time the end credits finish crawling up the screen and I gaze at the beautiful logos that have stirred me to the core for many years. Some of them have been displayed here after captures and I will probably continue the process if something comes along that aligns with my taste. Not only the logos, either. The manner in which the film was crafted – as many ‘practical’ effects as possible as opposed to CGI, just like the other one from 2019, the same year – carried within a ‘love letter’ to the entire industry in general, and Hollywood in particular. The entire sequence of events over which I began to gush quickly became very important to the way I feel about the entire process of filmmaking. Too bad I am not involved in the fucking thing. Splendid. My feelings continue to spiral since watching the first documentary the other day, and this morning is no different than the rest... I am very displeased with the past. Some of it, anyway. There are a few periods that mean more to me than most people. I can’t do anything about this mood right now. I just have to lump it, I guess. The decision to watch one of the films yesterday was entirely mine. Of course, knowing in advance that I will end up very sad doesn’t help, but given the choice to see or not see, learn or otherwise; I’ll watch every fucking time. That is reflected by my feelings of either having nothing at all to do with those beautiful processes, or following along out of sheer love and appreciation. That is an unavoidable decision at times. I’d rather sit here sad and in pain than miss out on what those individuals broke their backs for in order to entertain us. Yesterday was ok for the most part. All the business was completed prior to relaxing on the sofa (except for the game, which turned to shit... Heh), and I took care of dinner preparations in good time. Today will likely follow along the same path. This is pretty much all I have anymore, hence the need to go back in time to when I may have actually been happy. Whether or not I knew as much is anyone’s guess, but looking back helps me organize some of the driving forces that keep me drawing breath these days, and the industry is one of the most powerful. I find it fascinating that though everything seemed to hit a high point after heading to the Midwest, the summer just prior to moving represents the first time I was ever exposed to a shitload of ‘behind the scenes’ material. All of the years prior to having the ability to tune those odd channels from a satellite were very limited with regard to any decent exposure inside filmmaking. There were few resources beyond that of television, unlike today. Standing there watching the daily broadcasts that covered the industry was amazing and my eyes were about as wide as possible. Most of the time there was very little work for me because few people even stopped at the shop. As a CB and audio installer, there was nothing for me to do aside from watching television along with one of the store owners. The slow days allowed me plenty of time for absorbing the wonder and beauty that played a tune for my heart. ‘Jurassic Park’ actually went into wide release on June 11th, 1993, and that means I can calculate working at the shop during the months leading up to that date. I was still working there when I went to see the film with two family members. I have scattered memories of the glowing years because pinpointing certain events after more than three decades is very difficult. The CB shop is one of those I can actually identify on the calendar. And I don’t even know if the true dates are very important anymore. What carries the most significance for me right now is learning what pushed me to feel this way about the film industry. The theatre was a huge influence, of course, although much of my time spent there in full appreciation of the venue’s importance was after returning from the Midwest as opposed to before leaving the state. All of this shit may point to the summer at the CB shop and my related wonder at seeing the industry from the other side as the main reason for such emotional reactions to film. Whatever the case, the summer of 1993 is one of the most cherished memories inside me and has been for many years. The film in question, as well. During the afterglow, I had the JP score in my car and listened while commuting. Each occurrence of the main theme caused my heart to swell. John Williams was not nominated for an oscar for ‘Jurassic Park’ that year, but he did win for ‘Schindler’s List’, and rightly so. Just a thought. Anyway, the glowing years are precious to me for several reasons, and the trailing end of that period is now toward the top of the list. The wonder of the film industry may be the only aspect of life with enough power to shove my obsession to the rear at times. Unbelievable. I have not visited a theatre of any kind for more than five years because I have feared the emotional upheaval may cause more harm than good. At the 2020 Oscars, Margot Robbie referred to the theatre as ‘the most exciting place in the world’. It was as such for me, and over time that image faded due to factors beyond my control. Digital cinema, for example, was a push that irritated the hell out of me because the recording and screening processes changed from art forms to memory and data processing. I’m sorry, but Lucas’ point of film being a ‘19th century invention; something that needs to retire [sic’ was way off the mark. Art should never be abandoned in any form, and that statement is coming from a conventional person rather than some hippy-ish, pot-infused yogurt and spinach-juice consuming electric car driver. Are people still painting on canvas? Why didn’t they switch to a digitized touch screen connected to a computer? You know why... It is art, just like film. It is a tangible medium which is tender, touchy and temperamental, yet beautiful at the same time. Like analog audio, it is ‘continuous’, yet few seem to actually care anymore. Well, the theatre is too different now than in the past and I don’t think I’d react well to seeing a digital projection of something that should have been shot on film in the first fucking place. My two cents often bloats up and outward to millions of dollars, but at least sometimes I am correct. Wait... What? Correct? Wasn’t I expressing an opinion? YOU make the call. At some point I need to abandon this typing and do some housework. Damn. The entry is not wavering as much as I had expected at the beginning, and sometimes when I have tons of thoughts, the housework must wait until I record them. Kerry is stunning right now. Fuck. Film or obsession? I don’t fucking know anymore, but the industry is key for the moment. Later, the same day. I finished the usual morning stuff and poured myself a fat cocktail to calm my insides while thinking about all this shit that is gone from my life. There is so much more that I don’t know how long the damned entry will be in a few days, but I am overly compelled to try describing my feelings regarding something embedded so deep in my heart. Once my drink is consumed, I may or may not go further around the house, but right now I just don’t know how I will feel. There is much to convey. I honestly hope I am doing this for good reason. I need to search the IDE for any mention of an event from the Midwest period that is as clear in my mind as the day it took place. Along such lines, there is another story related to being closer to film than I had ever thought possible. During the early part of the afterglow, my dad and I visited the cinema to watch a film. Several visits back then, actually, but one stands out because I had been so enamored with the process of stories playing out on the big screen. We were early due to my need to spend as much time in the theatre atmosphere as possible. Having some extra minutes prior to taking our seats, I had the idea to request a little conversation with the manager. I asked if we could visit the projection room. After a safety spiel and some very pointed words regarding ‘quiet’ and ‘touching’, he relented and led us up the stairs to a very long, rectangular space that served all of the screens. One room. Upon entering, we remained quiet and when I had questions, everything was whispered. Standing before me, there were no less than ten Xetron projectors, each pointing slightly downward to small windows at the rear of each auditorium. Next to each unit was a pair of large platters rather than reels. The films arrived in twenty-minute sections and were then spliced together to form one complete section. The film was pulled from the inner part of the top platter, through looms that led it into the top of the projector, and then back across to the lower platter where it rolled up from the center out. Once complete, the process was reversed using a greater number of looms to lead the film through the projector and back to the top platter. It was amazing, and the manager explained some of the steps involved. He also led us close enough to the nearest projector to explain the relationship between each frame, the sprocket holes and the way the audio was encoded into the film itself. I could see the sound processing equipment that was built into the body of the massive projector, as well. The entire scene was fucking amazing and I will never forget his willingness to allow us entry to that room, one full of sheer value. I am not referring to only the roughly $100k cost of each projector, but the reels of film themselves which carried an even higher cost just to RENT from the studio. Unbelievable. Upon returning to the lobby, I regaled the manager – who was a huge fan of film just like myself – with the tale of seeing a 70mm movie while I lived in Michigan, and the unreal opportunity to stand in an 80-year old projection room with three units that each carried 20-minute reels of film. They were huge. He loved my story and there is much more to it, but I am not going to go into the tale until I ensure I haven’t described it here in the past. Hmm... After searching for some key terms, I don’t believe I’ve ever told that story on the site. Interesting. Anyway, once we shook hands (firmly, for sure) with the manager, it was off to the snack bar and then our seats. I can’t recall what movie we were there to watch, however I do know that whatever was the title it took a back seat to the projection room. At one point some weeks later, I actually considered seeking employment at a classic theatre just to handle the film itself and, in at least one rather distant fashion, be involved in a part of the industry. I never went further with the idea, though. Life got in the way, as it is loath to do. I can’t forget the sight of an enormous Xetron projector and all of the related functioning equipment connected therein. Beautiful; stirring; wondrous. Only trains carry similar feelings. Not my obsession. Film and trains. Why do I say as much? Because neither would ever betray me. Another story? Why not? This one means more to me than actual living, breathing people. I don’t recall the year. I lived in the Midwest for a short time, so the event took place somewhere between the middle of 1994 and the latter half of 1995. That will have to be close enough. I wish I had a ticket stub. Whatever. For months while driving into Saginaw from Reese – roughly ten minutes or so – the typical route took me through the old section of their downtown area. On the right-hand side of the main drag was the Temple Theater, and I gazed at the marquee every time the car passed by. The theatre ran older films, mostly ‘classics’, as opposed to anything new thanks to the massive theatre at the opposite end of town. I always noticed the title of whatever was on the marquee just in case they ran across something I wanted to see. The theatre was very old and still appeared as it did during the heyday of the studio system, complete with an organ which rose from below the orchestra pit. The screen was enormous, as well, much like many of the art-deco theatres that used to be found in most large cities. I don’t know the dimensions. The projection room housed three huge, WWII-era beasts that used arc lamps for sending the negative image across nearly 200 feet to the screen. Yes, arc lamps. The projectors were capable of threading both 35mm and 70mm film. I only visited the Temple Theater once while living in that area. Once. Oh, but the occasion was so amazing and stirring that I would never forget. Now we need a little bit of backstory. While living in Michigan, I quickly became enamored with any movie released on VHS that was presented in its original aspect ratio, which is to say the width-to-height relationship of a frame of film. Without going into the technical aspects or differing film ratios, I’ll say that televisions produced during that era contained the same screen ratio that was developed decades earlier. The ratio was 1.33:1. The result was a picture whose width was a bit more than its height, or a slight rectangle. Theatres typically projected films that were sized between 1.85:1 and 2.39:1 (or in some rare cases, 2.35:1). The wide image in theatres exemplified the dramatic difference between television and film and provided a much more panoramic vision than was available at home. When movies were displayed on a television at their original aspect ratio, the process was referred to as ‘letterboxing’, and the image was a very different shape. Think of a rectangle inside a square, more or less. Some viewers felt that the black bars at the top and bottom meant part of the image was cut off, when the opposite was actually true. A rectangle will not fit in a square without some adjustment. All this information may fall on deaf ears nowadays because televisions are all the same. I’ll avoid the idea of HD programming being produced at an aspect ratio of 1.77:1. Whatever. No one gives half a shit anymore. The point is that watching a movie on a television that had been intended to be projected in a theatre meant loss of picture, be it via size reduction or ‘cropping’ the image to fit the screen. My love for the cinema dictated that I seek a way of reproducing the same aspect ratio as that which the film was shot. I rented some titles and always sought a ‘director’s cut’ or some other special edition that honored the intent of the filmmaker both in content and aspect ratio. Prior to the release of the disc set, there was no home media version of the film in question that was presented at 2.35:1. In fact, nearly all home video was produced to fit the typical television screen, yet some directors actually dictated that their films were released on videotape with no modifications. After studying about the different processes and display parameters, I quickly learned that the medium of choice was a disc (this was years before the DVD was in wide release), yet I had no laserdisc player or software. Being a fucking nutcase about film, I began to collect certain titles that were released as special editions in the hopes of being able to play them at home some time in the future as they were intended to be viewed. I spent an inordinate amount of money on laserdiscs without the technology to watch them. Yes, I was out of balance. In the interest of avoiding too much boring information here, I’ll reveal the movie in question: It was ‘The Abyss’ from 1989. Unfortunately, more preamble is again necessary. And I'll have to add an image because the aspect ratio business can be confusing. The top represents the older standard television with each aspect ratio increasing down the image for reference. The only way to fit a rectangle into a square is either chopping off the left and right edges, or shrinking it to match the width. That's that. Film is different than broadcast television and has been for many decades. So, I watched that highly anticipated movie in a local theatre shortly after it was released. ‘The Abyss’ was a watershed moment in film history because of the practical and digital effects. The story and visuals were amazing and the film was very popular. Well, while shopping around in the disc aisle at my favorite movie store, I ran across a special edition of the film that was not only in a widescreen presentation, but had been lengthened by way of the director adding back into the film in excess of 30 minutes of material that had been removed in order to shorten the story enough for the studio to agree to a release. The box set of discs also included a booklet which outlined the changes in great detail as the additions had actually altered one of the main premises of the movie. When the studio directed the filmmakers to cut sections of the movie, they had to go all the way through the nearly three-hour run time and chop anything that made reference to any other part that had been cut out. The process dropped the running time of the film from 2h 51m all the way down to 2h 20m for theatrical release. I purchased the box set – again, despite no hardware for playing the discs – for a hefty price and cherished it. The version in question was released in April of 1993 and I was unable to watch my discs for nearly three years, but there was an event that took place in between those periods which caught me off-guard. Thinking of that time still makes my heart leap to this very day. I should point out that some people are not going to understand my feelings toward the film industry and this story, and that is just fine. The event took place nonetheless. As I drove into the city along the typical route one morning, my partner noticed the Temple Theatre’s marquee had changed from previous weeks. I stopped the car and read everything: ‘The Abyss 1989 full-length and in 70mm’. Two lines below that: ‘This weekend only’. Well, that was that. I had to attend. The clincher is the idea that I had never seen the full-length version of the movie on film, and yet owned the discs. I would be seeing the director’s cut for the first time not only on film, but in a rare form... 70mm. I decided the opportunity was important enough for us to arrive early, and my partner suggested that I bring along the booklet from the laserdisc box that outlined all of the changes. Good idea, that one. When the night finally arrived, we did indeed get there early and I was fucking floored to find others wandering the lobby and a few actually carried the SAME BOOKLET from the home video version of the movie. No, I am not kidding. We discussed different aspects of the film and the story, and eventually made our way into the auditorium, which I had never visited before that night. Gorgeous. I immediately climbed the steps to the balcony and continued all the way up to the little (cramped) projection room and asked permission to enter. Two much older gentlemen invited me inside to see everything and proceeded to explain the origins of the projectors and the complete operation of the arc lamp system. I was wide-eyed like never before. The film was right there – three 20-minute reels already on the projectors, and six more awaiting loading. I was asked to avoid touching the film or canisters because the theatre paid in excess of $7000 to have the film shipped and insured from Chicago. The value of the 70mm film in its entirety was estimated by them to be more than half a million dollars, hence the no-touching. They stated they had been quite lucky to be allowed to show the film at all, let alone the full-length version on 70mm. I shook hands, thanked them profusely, and returned to my seat. I sat and gazed at the 70-plus-foot screen that was being lit from just under two hundred feet away and watched the entire production play out for the first time. That’s my story, and it is one of the reasons I feel the way I do not only regarding the past, but the future of filmmaking as well. Film projection is one gaze. You can guess the other. I can’t truly convey the feelings involved in that story because what’s in my heart may not exist in anyone who may run across this material. That’s a nice thought. I will say that the sequence of events as it played out was one of the most heartwarming parts of my life, sad as that might sound. I loved it, and still do. The fact that I was so goo-ga over seeing the full-width version of certain movies and then secured media that I had no way of reproducing is just one aspect of the whole affair. The kicker was that despite my lack of hardware to play the discs, I ended up seeing the uncut version of the movie on actual FILM prior to ever having access to a Laserdisc machine. The experience was unexpected and completely unbelievable; a chance encounter with the theatre at the proper time. I have no idea of whether or not my story will mean anything to anyone else, but it solidified my feelings toward the film industry in a way I could not have imagined prior to seeing the marquee that morning. I will say something that most people would find interesting, and that is the fact that the tickets were $3 and the popcorn was priced the same. Compare that shit to the present. Tuesday morning arrived and I drove to the City. Most of the ride was fairly smooth for a weekday. The only rub was a jogger on Franklin Street that pulled my eyes out of their sockets. I saw her again on the return trip, believe it or not, as she walked in the opposite direction one block to the west. Unreal, that form... Bouncing ponytail; bouncing breasts; pants that provided a clear view of her beautiful lines. She caught me upside the head like so many others. The City is tough sometimes. Upon arriving home, I poured some coffee and typed out the rest of my story. Now I have the rest of the day for my usual business and then whatever else seems best. The inside of my head is caught between dreams of the film industry and visions in full-motion video of that girl jogging up the hill. Damn. I’ll be escaping the clutches of the IDE soon to care for the house. Yesterday I accomplished quite a bit in cleaning the living room floor and windows. As for today, I may be too far down the rabbit hole to do as much. To my right, the gangsters are again gracing the display. The series with Kerry ended yesterday morning. Now I can gaze at my reference standard love in the entire universe. Splendid. I think the trip next month is off. Well, next week. Seven days from now is when I would be leaving very early in the morning to clear the entire area prior to most people heading to work. Most of a day of driving, one day to look around and visit the exhibit, and then another day of driving. As I said, I believe it’s off. This is good because I’d be exposed to far more than I care to see and being in close proximity to film studios without the time to take a few tours would hurt. Remaining home is probably the best idea, the next possible road trip being in four months around the time of my birthday. At least then I can dictate the destinations. Better than nothing. I’ve been dreaming of touring Paramount for years. The timing has to be right so there is no hurry, less driving, and more places to visit on tap. A trip like that – just as most that I envision and try to plan – would be very cost prohibitive. The last major road trip was in 2018 during the week of my birthday, and that entire journey is something I’ll never forget. It was amazing. I’ll have to consider options for January. Now may be the time to come up with something that can lift me for a while. Yesterday afternoon I found myself again watching one of the documentaries that follows the eighth installment of the Star Wars series. The material is quite extensive because the documentary crew was on hand since the idea was conceived and followed along all the way to the actual premiere. Every step of the filmmaking process is featured. The running time of the supplementary material exceeds three hours and I fully intend to watch every fucking second. I believe I was less than an hour into it when dinner time rolled around yesterday. I’ll be back there watching again very soon because I am a fucking basket case. The process is bad for me and I do it anyway, much like occasionally watching a few select films that I know will cripple my ability to move forward in life. The need to see as much as possible likely dates all the way back to the end of the glow when I had access to channels otherwise unavailable to me. The satellite systems for entertainment were superior to typical cable television, and even in these late days still proves the best option. Think about it for a minute... Network television broadcasts are completely free over the air. Viewing through a wired cable provider costs money even though the air broadcasts are paid via network advertisements. So, the viewer pays for content that has already been paid for via ads. There you go. Ceasing the cable or modern satellite programming in favor of streaming media can reduce the cost, although as time passes, the different channels are slowly combining into ‘bundles’, meaning that very soon the cost of the streaming media will equal that of the cable subscription people wanted to shut off in the first place. During the summer of which I’ve spoken, the dishes on the canopy were of the old variety; framed mesh with a feedhorn for reception and a two-axis system for switching satellites. There were 18 birds in orbit and 24 channels per bird, most of which were tuned automatically by way of a 'polarotor', or a system designed to allow the dish to change position via commands from the receiver. As of this moment, I have no idea if those birds are still in operation considering the plethora of newer technology on much higher frequency bands that has taken over the world’s base of TVRO entertainment. The point of all this shit is that while I was at work, I had access to channels that were a part of a very expensive cable package. The satellite television providers had more options thirty fucking years ago than the present day, meaning if someone moved here from a foreign country and wanted to watch a broadcast from home, they could subscribe to a single channel rather than opting for a large package that doubtless carried tons of unwanted broadcasts. The CB shop was a dealer for those dishes and subscriptions. We had five birds to choose from and all 24 channels sent by each. I only watched one most of the time, and after seeing all of the background information on filmmaking, my need to be involved in the industry ballooned by a dramatic degree. The increase may have been an exponent. I don’t even believe I knew anyone that subscribed to some of the more obscure, industry-related programming. Watching at work was something I will never forget. What a fuckin’ tirade. I just happen to feel strongly about the advancement of technology and the way everything eventually becomes ‘generic’, such as a ton of very handy, very advanced electronic devices disappearing from the world because they were all rolled into a little rectangle that does everything. Something just came to mind... I can keep the cinema ‘dream’ alive by way of altering the video system in this little house. My current television is close to six years old and I’ve been seeing an increasing number of bright spots toward the bottom of the display throughout the past year or so. The LED panel is slowly degrading, as is the norm for a television of that age. My neighbor and I have been pondering replacement units that utilize OLED technology as opposed to the standard of LED because of the former’s ability to extend blackness and allow fast action to be displayed much more smoothly. As the video technology advances, however, so do prices. I wanted to opt for something with more longevity, hence my recent research into using a projector and screen as opposed to a television. Well, I’ve researched the idea and the cost is no longer an issue. An OLED television just a touch larger than the one currently hanging in my living room is somewhere in the neighborhood of $1400. If I change the system and install a fixed screen and projector, the price tag would be closer to $2k; not that much of a difference when you consider that the screen would not degrade at all over time. Proper care could keep it bright and sharp for decades. The only variable becomes the projector itself, which could be changed as necessary after four to five years or so. The one consideration that has me concerned is the fact that the smallest fixed screen from one of the best manufacturers is 77 inches when measured diagonally (the standard). That is fucking huge when held against a television I’ve been watching for almost six years that measures 58 inches diagonally. The upside, which pretty much squashes all of the downsides, is that when the screen is not lit by a projector, it appears as nothing more than a white rectangle on the wall surrounded by a neutral-colored frame as opposed to a big, black rectangle that protrudes much further from the surface (I am talking myself into a new system as I type these words). While I can admit that the television is on for most of the time that I’m home, the idea of something much less intrusive mounted on the wall during those times when it is not active has become very appealing. Combine that last thought with having what can be described as a small movie theatre inside the house and the solution becomes quite clear. For the time being, I will avoid trying to describe a 2.35:1 constant-height system. You don’t want to know. That idea would have been wonderful when I lived in the valley because of the layout of the living room and master bedroom. Alas, I did not have the chance to build the fucking thing. Wednesday is apparent on the calendar. Coffee. Gangsters, for whatever reason, are over to the right. This morning’s business was of the early variety, meaning I have lots of time to think prior to engaging in anything else. This is good. Well, it’s about as good as my life gets anymore. That’s pathetic. At least the free time is still welcomed. As much as my brain has been going back in time to the CB shop days, I am going to remain close to this machine each day just in case something comes along that I’ve not recalled before. That period was very important. IS very important, actually. The industry train is going to keep running until I am void of further information. I have clues as to a possible major catalyst, yet nothing solid. The summer of ‘93 was huge, though. So was the dome, even way back in 1989, which represents the first time I visited that theatre since high school. I think it was, anyway. The ensuing years found me there much more often. I’ve already gone into the afterglow and the beginning of the aughts when there was a following at that theatre unlike any other time. Perhaps my fascination is a combination of the dome and the summer of ‘93. They sort of ran together. Cocktail time. I took care of the usual business a bit earlier than most days because my head began to descend and I had to stop it right quick (or else). I can’t have that shit today. My work on this entry is very important; more than other concerns. I will not be derailed by looming imagery and memories of being right in the fucking middle of what I needed. With everything gone, the focus is more important than ever, especially when it concerns the industry and my understanding of how and why it became such a draw within my life. I have to relocate this damned computer tower at some point. The office is beginning to irritate me. The most likely reason I've not addressed this room for a long while is motivation. I am having a very difficult time caring about anything these days. The situation in the holy land has become infinitely more concerning since yesterday. The conflict has widened and I am worried that everything will worsen long before any possible easing of tensions and violence. I had thought the most prominent world leaders had been the most hard-headed, but the truth is the fucking middle east takes the cake. Everyone wants to fight everyone else, and each group seems to have God on its side. After centuries of the same shit, no one seems to learn a fucking thing. I am going to keep one ear to the world news for the duration just in case. As an aside, I must say that the holy land is an area more beautiful than I could have imagined, ancient unlike most of the world, and extremely important to a good portion of the global population, myself included. Once something ancient is destroyed, the beauty and wonder can never be recreated. I wish I could head over there and smack everyone upside the head to see if they can find reason. Eh... No one has that much power. Having God on your side is probably pretty damned compelling. I am sitting here in the quiet while looking out at the hills, and on the other side of the world things are nearly as bad as they can get. Should I make a sign and stand on the shoulder of the highway? That type of idea didn’t go so well for all of the protesters that blocked freeways and bridges earlier this year. I hope they now realize that nothing can be done. Ugh. I hate this fucking shit. I salute their convictions. I really do. I don’t agree with the methods, but passion at that level can’t be denied. Another aside... The upcoming election has been blown up beyond all rational explanation by the media and every other fucking person, but to me it is inconsequential. If I was a billionaire, I couldn’t buy enough ‘caring’ with every cent. Politics in this country has become so fucking stupid that I have to avoid the topic for fear of wearing out my favorite keyboard. The outcome may or may not affect the conflict over there in the beautiful holy land, although there is really no way to know for sure. We have all these different parties and each year only two of them seem to matter to the bulk of the dipshits living here. Wow... I believe I just had an epiphany: I can’t fucking stand the way the world operates and there is nothing anyone can do about it. Good fucking luck, shitbrains. Maybe when the ballot arrives I’ll write myself in. Yay! Eh... I’ve done that before. Never mind. The little one-sentence interludes can be quite entertaining, don’t you think? Here is another: Building the 4355s would be so expensive that I could actually purchase a pair of extremely large and very sensitive monitors for less than half as much. Isn’t that peachy? The process of actually building the 4355s would equal the journey, however I don’t know if I have that much left inside me. I just don’t see it right now. I would love to see and hear those monsters. Alas... My abilities continue to diminish as the days disappear under the massive trucks beneath the train that is life. Hmm... That’s much more than one sentence. Heh. The whiskey has loosened me a bit. This feels liberating. Will today be one of those that finds me with a second drink before lunch? God forbid. Father 'sleepover' is a schnorrer. Is there any significance to Thursday? Thankfully, yesterday did not turn into a pile of shit. I did not allow that to happen despite being in a very down mood. By late afternoon, I was in tears (again) due to one of the documentaries. I’ve gone through three of them, went back to the second, and then watched the third film in its entirety. Following the film itself is the supplementary material, so I let it roll for a while and ended up in the pit of despair. My head keeps traveling back to the early aughts when there was a documentary crew at the ballistics range. That was the first or second during my tenure. I loved all of it. The opportunity to make a change was never greater than during that day. Well, the ensuing months were the same. I had spoken to the sound engineer, who was very accommodating with my questions and such. He was very nice and I tried not to push. Oh, well... That went nowhere, yet the situation still comes to mind each time I see production actually in progress. This will probably not change anytime soon. The documentaries and other material that follow each film are extensive and I have barely watched a third of the entire series. I like seeing the details of how certain aspects of the films were created and shot. The information is fascinating to me. I don’t know how others may feel. Last night was pretty mellow thanks to being in such a somber state during and after dinner. The mood continues this morning as I sip coffee. The more I think about that time, the more I go further back to the CB shop, and I am not referring to the CD changer girl. She is outside all this other shit. I saw her twice in the space of a week which was wonderful, however the sheer power of being privileged enough to watch those amazing programs on satellite television takes the cake over the girl, by far. She was something to see, too. Obsession versus love; the latter will prevail every fucking time. Thursday may be completely meaningless. I’ll go through the motions like every day, take care of some housework and laundry, and then probably fall down again while not knowing how to proceed. Sooner or later, such a feeling always occurs. There is simply too much missing these days. I believe the documentaries that I’ve been watching bring me back to the exposure to background information that I soaked up while at the shop. Prior to working there, my only experience with TVRO was the occasional visit to either my great uncle’s house or one other location that was the home of my friend’s dad. Both had the very large, older dishes and receivers that allowed for viewing of media directly from the feeds, such as a live sporting event. My friend’s dad used to show off the fact that while watching a football game, for example, when typical broadcast networks cut to commercials, the feed that came directly off a satellite continued to receive information straight from the editing console, meaning the cameras around the stadium were active the entire time. The channels we watched (one in particular) at the CB shop were from subscriptions, so the advertisements came along just like any other television. Still, the experience ‘felt’ different due to having access to programming that was otherwise unavailable to me. Watching such media was quite compelling. Like the system at the home I mentioned, just the feeling of knowing everything was entirely different kept my eyes wide, not to mention anything related to the television and film industries. I was mostly glued to the marketing campaign and other information related to the release of ‘Jurassic Park’, in part due to both having become pervasive thanks to such a high-profile summer film. To this very day, the movie is considered one of the greatest ever made, and a watershed event in the history of the technical aspects of filmmaking. I was a witness to some of the background thanks to being able to watch the satellite feed during the period leading up to the film’s release. I had never been exposed to anything even close to that level of coverage. By the time we left the state some months later, my head was awash with every single aspect of filmmaking. Watching the final documentary regarding the ninth film in the Star Wars universe brought me back to the summer of 1993 with great force. Hmm... ‘Force’. Very interesting word choice. I ended up feeling a combination of fascination, appreciation and sadness. The latter eventually took over my afternoon and evening. Tears; tissue; feelings of loss and regret. I have to watch, though. I can’t fucking help it. The process will most likely continue later today because I am a glutton for punishment. At least I don't have to leave the house until tomorrow morning. Better than nothing, I suppose. I failed to mention one detail of the aspect ratio image above. The idea is to look at the shape and ratio of the top example and then carry the left and right sides (the vertical lines) straight down through the rest in order to see just how much of the film frame would be missing on a 1.33:1 television. Even with a newer model, there is still some loss beginning with 1.85:1 and heading further down the image. I hope that makes sense. Whatever. None of this matters to anyone but me. My coffee is waning. Work time is here. And... Done. I also slid the queen mattress into the big bag and rolled it all the way into the shed. Ugh. I’ve been procrastinating about moving that damned thing since the shed was built. Now that it’s out of the spare bedroom, I can go further with cleaning and improving the configuration. Not bad. I also took care of the daily routine. I need to relax for a while. The requisite glass of booze is here on the table. I had to switch off the gangsters again because of the fucking glitching bullshit that I can’t abide anymore. Prior to leaving the computer when the coffee came to an end, the program was running just fine. I don’t get it. Whatever. Bigger fish. Or, different fish. My obsession with certain mathematical and physical aspects of female beauty is not entirely my fault. There have been other factors – some which permanently altered the way I live and perceive society – that I’ve laid out on the site for years. As for my overly depressed and saddened state regarding the film industry, I often fully blame myself. The truth is that the two shit situations may have created a pattern of fear inside that ended up holding back opportunities which could have been very good for me. The entire shitaree is not very pleasant to consider anymore. I keep trying, though. No idea why. I can’t go back in time and walk through a door that no longer exists. The main issue is that I can never know if the idea would have been what I needed. After becoming absolutely enamored with the film industry a full decade prior to the big opportunity, one may have thought that taking a chance would have been an absolute lock, as it were, and something with the power to help me live life more fully. Nope. I was afraid. Some years later, such as toward the trailing end of my life in the valley, I felt that I was too old to break into positions geared toward young people. Moreover, I saw the industry changing – or, at least, my perception of it after being exposed to a few facts – and began to believe that any part in the modern version of movie making would have been very dissatisfying, or possibly disheartening enough to force me out with a changed opinion of something that I had loved deeply for decades. Another idea that became swept away by fear. Is there any significance to Friday? I doubt it. Yesterday turned out to be quite productive, although as is the custom of late, by the afternoon I was watching supplemental material on one of my favorite films. I had never played that disc before and found it both fascinating and depressing at the same time. Marvelous. I worked a little bit more after lunch. That process may or may not continue today because even at this early hour, I can’t see myself pushing much later. I need to pick up a few items at the big produce market on the other side of the hill, too. Sunday will be salad-prep day and I want to make sure everything is in place prior to visiting the festival tomorrow. Yes, I already know being there will be a huge problem for me. That’s a given anymore. I’d like to go to the big hardware store, too. The other day when I ventured over the hill, had lunch in the car and then shopped for some necessities, I actually felt a tiny bit ‘free’ as opposed to my typical emotional condition that hits me each day due to remaining home nearly all of the time. Sometimes fear will dictate whether or not I can roll further from home than the market down the street. I guess that day when I had lunch out something slapped me in the face and I was simply railing against the norm a little bit. That kind of action is rare. Some of this shit came to mind while watching the third documentary (attached to the ninth film; keep up) because I avoided a switch in careers because I was afraid of losing too much that had become very important to me, even if the loss was temporary (there is no way to know). Watching the filmmaking process, I realized that the individuals involved traveled far outside what could be considered their ‘comfort zone’ – and many other films I enjoy place actors, stand-ins and stunt people in crazy situations and very uncomfortable circumstances – yet they were so dedicated to the art being created that there had been zero doubt of what had to be accomplished. I’ve turned into the type of person that feels a trip to the fucking grocery store is difficult. Do you see? I also speak of the festival as if it is some kind of punishment rather than a place with food, drinks and live music. I wish I could pin down exactly how this fucking happened. Anyway, if the rare mood strikes, I might drive over there and do something similar to my trip last week. I don’t know why such ideas became so inflated. A little bit was probably the way everything turned to shit because of the virus, but as for the rest... Christ only knows. I don’t like feeling this way. A week ago Thursday was significant. The rest of the days are shit for the most part, and the thought of breaking away for a little while generates both anticipation and fear. Maybe something will change in the future if I can exert some force. Moving furniture yesterday was something similar; force. I pushed. I can’t predict what today holds for me. The second gaze is difficult to see here. Very difficult. What should I do? The morning business is later today due to a changed schedule. I’ll be into it very soon, though. Afterward, I’ll have to decide which market to visit and see if my brain leads me over to the hardware store near lunchtime. Good or bad as it may be, the last time sure felt interesting for a little while. There is even a tiny possibility that the way I felt twenty-one years ago when I took that hellacious left turn from work returned to my mind for a split-second. Maybe. I can’t be certain because after so many years, I am very different from the person who took that turn. As for my mood during the nine hours between when I made the decision and my arrival at the Luxor, I would say roughly ten percent was worried. The rest? I don’t know... Maybe sort of like a type of power that I had not previously thought possible. There was a touch of excitement because I was alone and did not need to concern myself with the wishes of other people, and a certain level of comfort in knowing that I was about to sink into the only lifestyle I actually ‘needed’ as opposed to those I may have ‘wanted’. Very interesting. Joseph Siravo is on the screen again. I swear to everything holy, I could fucking kiss him for the talent. Fucking awesome, that guy, and God rest his soul. Anyway, a drive over the hill today is not going to leave me feeling the need to exit the state. I may or may not feel a touch of freedom for a couple of hours. That’s it. Time for business. The day is all mine. Morning stuff is now out of the way; coffee is halfway gone; the house is again quiet. I still don’t know if I am going over the hill today. The hour is early and I have plenty of time to figure everything out. ‘Fuckin albacore around my neck!’ Holy shit, that was funny. Anyway, I’d like to continue in the spare bedroom for a little while and then move a few items to the shed since the larger furniture is all in place. I also need to get the folding wagon out of the shed and drop it in the car for tomorrow. My plan is to arrive early and leave early, unlike last year. Walking the festival route is tiring, especially considering the number of other people doing the same. Am I worried about seeing something special? Always. That’s a given due to experience. The less time on the street, the less chance there is of me falling off the edge of the world because of being absolutely obsessed with a very specific type of beauty. I will say that watching all of the background material related to my favorite movies does push those feelings to the rear for a time. I guess that’s better than nothing. The clock has already passed nine, meaning I’ll have to decide which way to shop later. I’m sure returning home will feel rewarding, like most days. Once the daily routine is out of the way, I shall finalize the plan. The second gaze is probably still not apparent in this essay. Big fucking surprise. Figure it out. Another decision I’ve been avoiding is which of the three big, long-term projects to attempt in the near future; the 4355s, a small machine shop, or a trike. I can’t know which may be the most rewarding. The only fact is that the most expensive would be the trike. I figure somewhere in the neighborhood of 20-30 grand would be required to make it run. The shop is much cheaper, likely topping less than $5k for everything. The downside to that wonderful, compelling idea is the garage would no longer have room for the car. I may not care. As for the monitors, I honestly can’t harbor a guess. The raw materials could be less than a grand, but the cost of the drivers and other electronics can’t really be predicted. If I try to use the OEM components, the dollars could skyrocket, whereas if I proceed like a few other builders, there can be a few aftermarket replacement drivers that would both lower the cost and lend to reliability. I should state that the idea of aftermarket components is not lost on me because the audio and appearance of the cabinets are the most important factors. Perhaps the entire project could be completed at a cost similar to the shop plan. Right now I just don’t know which is best, but I have to fucking start something soon or I’ll lose my shit. Part of the drive to build the monitors is the film industry, believe it or not. Some of the scores contain passages that can test the dynamic range and headroom of amplifiers, let alone the stress on the drivers themselves. The shop and trike ideas have nothing to do with my love for the industry. And there is another factor I need to consider when dreaming of the 4355s, and that is the very likely scenario that not one person on God’s green earth would understand their meaning, history or prowess, nor would they comprehend my need to build in the first place. As I sit here this morning, the 4355s are being pushed to the head of the line because of the industry and my background in the proper reproduction of music. The importance of the monitors is analogous to my stingy nature on the subject of sharing music with other people. I cannot be assured of the context. Marvelous. Without knowing the compositions would be produced in the proper context and through actual audio equipment rather than a fucking phone or some other new technology, I just can’t let music out of my hands in a way so as to feel good about the decision. Such thinking will most likely never be understood by those who know me. Eh... I don’t care. Like I used to say when I built a massive audio system in my little car many years ago, ‘I didn’t build all this shit for others to hear, only myself’. I was often asked why the balance, fade or equalization sounded off from the passenger or back seats. Heh. My music; my car; my blood and sweat. Fuck off. That probably doesn’t come across as even remotely friendly, either. Whatever. I don’t care. I do need to make a decision soon, though. That was the point before I went on yet another fucking tirade. Should I point out the second gaze? YOU make the call. Later. I took care of everything, and as suspected earlier, the decision to drive over the hill was an easy one. I remained close to home by visiting the hardware store and both the pharmacy and market on the return trip. Nothing of note took place, thankfully, and I gathered everything I needed save for one fucking piece of wood. The hardware store was sold to a large company last year and it is still being reconfigured and stocked. I guess I’ll have to go over the hill sometime next week. At least the drainage project is in good shape. I have everything I need to install, connect, and filter the water pump to be ready for the storm season. The gangsters are glitching again and nothing I’ve tried seems to help. I don’t understand the problem. Maybe I’ll try to ignore it and wait for the stream to smooth itself. The industry has not left my head this morning, even while driving and shopping. I did learn something yesterday, and that is the fact that each of the nine movies have additional material to the tune of roughly 3-4 hours each. I’ve only watched three of them. There is much more and I plan to relax later and take in a ton of fascinating stuff. Yes, watching those documentaries and other features depresses the shit out of me and I end up in tears half the time, but the compulsion takes over regardless of my condition. Much like the fucking lines of my life, I need to see everything. At least with regard to the film industry, my life is not at risk if I dive into the information. The lines have come close to killing me. Gaze? Hmm. Yesterday I watched a series of short background ‘extras’ that were included with a three-disc set I purchased a few years ago. Prior to grabbing the bonus disc during the early afternoon, I had never loaded that thing into a DVD player. Not even once. Well, the information is presented beautifully, and I was amazed at the level of physical construction and practical (in-camera) visual effects that were used in order to avoid too much CGI. A day earlier, I was replaying the fourth film in the Star Wars universe and marveled at the massive amount of computer work that went into that production. Personally, I appreciate the effort of practical effects over using CG imagery as a ‘crutch’. There are other ways of looking at the subject, but being my age and having been exposed to the original trilogy in actual theatres, the CG aspects of the prequels do not seem as creative on at least one level. Some stories, such as the one that brings me to tears every time I watch it, were created with the intention of everything being performed on-set rather than with visual effects in post-production. The downside is filming a ‘period’ piece becomes very difficult when trying to recreate a city or other landscape from the past. Buildings; vehicles; costumes... All of it is very expensive and requires both dedication and a hell of a lot of money. The film that I watch on occasion with tears is one in which the writer/director tried his damnedest to shoot everything practically. Alas, a few CG shots were necessary due to the time gradient. That’s perfectly fine because the intention was there and every effort was made to show off the way Hollywood appeared in 1969. As for the first of the prequels I mentioned above, to this very day I feel that much of it could have been shot on set much like the original trilogy. The man who made the decision just happens to be the same who declared film a ‘nineteenth century invention that must be advanced’. Ed Crasnick is fucking awesome. Just a thought. He's so funny. Is there any significance to Saturday? There may be. Today is the festival. Ugh. I’ll have to remain mindful of my surroundings and take everything slowly, I guess. At least the trip that was supposed to be this coming week is out of the question. Canceled. That’s good for one reason. I didn’t want to be close to the studios without touring. I didn’t want to be near a certain section of Hollywood Boulevard, either. Memories of one key film would have crippled me, not to mention that fucking restaurant. In the beginning, I had made a dinner reservation for fear that I may never have another chance to experience that place. That was the first plan to be dropped. Two weeks later, the entire trip is off. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this, although part of me is thinking that something around the time of my birthday might be best. I may have mentioned that already. Anyway, the festival will come and go and then I’ll have Sunday to take care of business and watch the game. I also have to make salads for Monday. I don’t like my time being overly scheduled, but having Sunday between the festival and a dinner uptown is very helpful. As for this morning, I don’t have much time to gather my thoughts. I’m sure I’ll feel plenty happy after arriving back home later. Part of me wishes that time was right now. Eh... I’ve gone to this thing before and came out the other side just fine. Jamie is adorable in this episode. She was really thin in the first season (an eating disorder; the poor girl) and her face followed suit. That made her big, beautiful eyes appear even larger than when she was older. Ooh-fa. I love her so much. Well, I cleaned up a bit and donned some comfortable clothes. I haven’t even stepped near the door yet and I’m already looking forward to being home again after walking around among those people. Yes, I realize there are good people out there. Sometimes they are difficult to see, that’s all. The train leaves in a little while. The festival came and went. This is the first time I’ve visited that extravaganza in thirteen years without seeing the sun appear at all. Very interesting. There was one woman who stood out beyond rational thought and I had the chance to stare for a few minutes. Other than that, only the damaging dreams came to mind thanks to a fairly large crowd. The booze helped me deal with the sight of a six-foot picturesque gazelle with enough information on display to cripple me for an hour. The damaging dreams came to mind quite often throughout the visit and carried on all the way until leaving the area and stopping by the bar for a little bit. Paulie’s date in this episode is rather disgusting. Just a thought. Six foot gazelle. Very rare in the real world. The damaging dreams sent my thoughts into galaxies that shall not be mentioned here or anywhere else. I need to relax and enjoy the fact that tomorrow is Sunday, there is plenty of time to get back into a normal routine, and I can care for myself as well. I need to remain far away from anything as beautiful and amazing as what I saw this morning. Everything is bad for me. The six-footer is going to haunt me for a little while because I am a fucking basket case. Very rare, that one. Very, very fucking rare in my experience. I need to get away from the IDE for a while. This is not enjoyable right now. Is there any significance to Sunday? Well, I don’t have to go anywhere now that the drive has been completed. Thankfully, there was nothing to see except the requisite cars here and there. The drive was smooth and quick, just the way I like it. My need to be here takes over the second my car exits the driveway and does not let up until I am parked again. As for seeing things in the City (or anywhere else), I’ve had quite enough of that this weekend. At least I can’t recall any dreams related to yesterday. That’s a positive. I can still see that woman and her stretched features, although I have no fucking idea of why the appearance is so fascinating. Maybe those years of watching runway fashion shows had more of an effect than I realized at the time. The models are almost always very tall. Anyway, her height was not the clincher. The fact that she was so slender caught me upside the brain, and that type of thing truly does not happen very often. I am glad there was nothing this morning. I don’t need any more of it. I wish I could remember; I wish I could know why things must be this way. Too many wishes; they are useless anymore. Too much missing; the holes in me run deep. Too much time has passed; it slices me to ribbons. I know not what to do. Perhaps back to the title of this shit. I dove back into the older films again yesterday. When I think of those times during the glowing years when we visited the big domes or other theatres, I recall staying in my seat until the ‘credits crawl’ was complete because I wanted to see every fucking name and role involved in the creation of the film. Jamie’s eyes are huge and I love them. Anyway, I still go through the same practice as thirty-plus years ago whenever watching movies, and most of what I seek is typically toward the end and involves the physical equipment itself. I don’t know why I’m still so fascinated by that stuff. Years later when I visited the second projection room – much more modern than the arc-lamp versions in the Temple – I took in as much as possible because I knew the visit would be both short-lived and rare. That was similar to watching the entertainment channels at the CB shop; I tried to learn and understand as much information as I could. The draw was so powerful, in fact, that most days I hoped no customers would walk in. I didn’t want my viewing time interrupted because nearly all of what I was seeing was unavailable elsewhere without a massive dish and subscriptions. I was in no position to do anything like that. I will say that once we moved across the country and I learned there was no cable television where we lived (very rural area, for sure), I dreamed of installing one of the huge dishes in the backyard. That would have been the best way to see everything I desired. Roughly a year after arriving there, I learned that there was a company that could install a small dish on the roof that received ‘line of sight’ signals from a nearby transmitter, much like a regular cable subscription. It worked very well and I was overjoyed to see some decent television for a change. I was reminded of that system last night while watching part of one of the movies I mentioned. The streaming device has processor and memory limits that can’t be upgraded, meaning the only way to increase its power is replacement. The applications continue to grow in size and the amount of hardware resources required for smooth playback, yet the device sits in a fixed state and can’t be modified. The only option is to use a computer, and I am not ready to build something out there strictly for watching video media because the process can be very touchy. Anyway, the movie glitched every now and then, interrupting the audio for a split-second. One channel (application) has been exhibiting such behavior for weeks, meaning the limits of the device have likely been reached. I have a new model sitting out there waiting to be installed. The existing device lasted three years and I see that as pretty good considering how cheap they are. All of this adds up to the fact that I need to see those films as they were intended, and I am unwilling to deal with any issues regarding playback or audio. The older movies must be respected because they paved the way for most of what is currently produced. Did you find the second gaze? Sunday means business. My coffee is nearly gone, so I’ll have to get a few things out of the way prior to kickoff in just over three hours. We go... And... Done. The preliminary business is finished and I have a head start on the garbage. By kickoff, everything should be in good order because I have a hell of a system for taking care of this little house. Oh, God... Her eyes are so fucking beautiful that sometimes I feel the need to go outside and beat my head against the concrete. The six-foot amazing beauty that I saw yesterday can’t hold a fraction of a candle to my feelings for Jamie. They continue to increase as time passes. Anyway, the time has come for me to relax with a fat cocktail for a little while before continuing around the house. I deserve that much, at least. Maybe. Eh, I don’t know shit anymore. The game is in two hours. Plenty of time. I will return to the film-related emotional turmoil after everything is finished today. As a damaging aside, I’ve been looking at the digital images I shot of ‘Jaime’ back in 2010 and comparing her stance with that of the tall one from yesterday. Judging by the surrounding individuals and her hands, Jaime had to have stood somewhere in the neighborhood of five-ten. I suppose all those models with their stretched features became injected into my head years ago and never went away. Believe me, I’ve seen some fucking stunning, amazing beauties that were anywhere from five even to perhaps five-three or four, and there is no difference with regard to attraction or desire. Height is something I have trouble explaining, much like years ago when I was enamored with long fingers. Whatever. Beauty is subjective and I am a fucking whack job anyway. This drink is delicious. I should be sufficiently lubricated enough to relax my head in a little while. Sunday business will be easier thanks to the alcohol, and whatever that says about me, I don’t give a flying fuck. I do what I need to do in order to survive. This entry is quite convoluted because I can’t focus on anything for very long without becoming highly distracted, usually by something unique, beautiful, or both. I’ve mentioned the search for years and for good reason. It never stops regardless of whatever else may be taking place here or elsewhere in the world. There are two wars raging on the other side of the world, yet my brain cannot absorb information about those terrible situations for very long before... Ah, it’s happening right now because of a woman on the right-hand display. See? There is always something. The essay suffers accordingly. There is nothing I can do about such a condition. Nothing. I am completely fucked. The keyboard pays no mind, nor do my feelings. Nothing changes. Everything worsens, and that includes feeling completely lost due to never taking an exit off the comfort highway out of fear. I shall never know what may have developed. What a mess." 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The Twin Gazes of Film Mature content No. 425 Published September 29th, 2024 11:25am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Is there any significance to Friday? Not anymore. This is just another morning. And Kerry is over there on the right-hand display again. God, she is so unique. Early this morning I dreamed of some woman that I do not know in life. I spent the time marveling at the dark appearance of her eyes and trying to relate her to someone I had known fairly well. There is no way to know who she was. Not Kerry; her eyes are green, I believe, and that is dependent upon the production design. I don’t know why I dreamed of such a person. I don’t need more visions in life or elsewhere, damn it. The morning is already a pile of shit. Yesterday I ended up with a partial head of steam and drove over the hill to visit one of the big stores. The trip turned out to be very successful as opposed to when I tried to find the same items locally. I also stopped off on the return for a few drinks and that segment of the trip was very quiet. I returned home some time later and took care of the usual evening business. Thanks to the hardware store, I have everything I need to build the drain system for the backyard as well as components for assembling the fog cooler. Is there any significance to Saturday? I should not have been watching all of the supplementary material that was added to the end of three films I purchased a few years ago. Totaling almost nine hours, there is a spread after the ‘credits crawl’ of each film that dives pretty deep into the process. I learned a ton of information, some of which hit me with the realization that the industry is not as different from the way it operated thirty-plus years ago. I am certain that not all studios work in the same way, though, meaning there are other productions that do not share such levels of detail and on-set work as with the three films in question. Kerry’s face is driving me nuts this morning. My feelings for her pale in comparison to the turmoil inside these days, to be honest. They pale quite a bit, and I am referring to the beginning of love. I am having problems with the passage of time and the manner in which I governed some of mine when a few opportunities arose which could have helped swing my path to and fro. I have to think about this for a little while because I can already see an end to this way of life creeping into my consciousness. It has been increasing in velocity for the last three days. There is probably nothing I can do about it, either, due to my having adjusted certain living parameters in order to be comfortable, and never looking very far ahead of where I had been standing. Another problem reared its head while I watched the first and third installments of the material, as well. A big problem, and something that now appears to be multifaceted in the face of everything I’ve already been feeling. More on the pile is not helping. I really don’t want to see that type of ‘brightness’ while lamenting my own processes throughout a period of many years. And believe me, the sight was about as bright, hopeful and positive as one may imagine. Seeing her reminded me of a close friend from the seventies who had a poster in his bedroom of a Panavision Panaflex Gold camera. All the way back then... He had a pretty good idea of what types of jobs he wanted to pursue. Ten years old. I failed to understand searching for a path at such a young age, and while watching the first part of all that material, something similar came along and hit me in the face pretty fucking hard. Eh... I made the decision to watch all that stuff so I should have been prepared for the pitfalls. Like I often tell others, ‘if you don’t like what you’re seeing on the screen, make a change’. I was full of wonder – and wondering – and part of me simply needed to find more information on the details of production because of the way so much has changed throughout the past twenty-plus years. I needed to know a few things and witness some of the work. Well, this is the result. I already mentioned that some of the processes involved were used in order to maintain a ‘classic’ method of filmmaking. That was a good portion of the problem inside me because I was convinced – without much investigation as opposed to assumptions – that the industry is vastly different than when I first became fascinated. This is not good. A period of roughly fifteen years has passed since my last idea to make a huge life change. That idea was left on the side of the road for two reasons I’ve already outlined here in spades, and over the course of many years. I need not go into it again. The bottom line is I was too afraid of making that change, and still am. Moreover, I am fifteen years older, and that fact raises the unanswerable question of ‘what would have happened?’, to mention just one. Not good. I cannot know, ever. All I can do is sit here and wonder. Saturday business will commence very soon. I still have coffee and a head full of bad thoughts. Some programs should not be viewed by yours truly because I am void of the ability to change anything, but sometimes I do it anyway, much like a handful of key films that always leave me fucking depressed afterward. There is nothing I can do about the feelings because too many years have passed that found me avoiding lifting a fucking finger to change anything. Unlike the other shit, I will accept some responsibility for allowing time to pass and sitting back while it crushed one of the largest dreams I’ve ever had. Of course, I can’t take all the credit. No fucking way. The two shit situations removed some of my long-term abilities before they had a chance to develop. There is no way around such a fact and I will argue the point until blue in the face. Wait... Flat on my face? Yes, that too. The whole thing is completely fucked up beyond rational thought. Despite the severity of this situation, the more I ponder my current condition, the more I realize certain very specific connections that developed over the last four-plus decades. They roll from fear and intimacy all the way to the other side of the planet and relate to my ongoing inability to take even the tiniest risk in life, from the simplicity of driving over the hill to go shopping and on to much larger, more dramatic changes that ‘could’ place me in a very uncomfortable situation. That means the rewards cannot hold a candle to inherent risk. Fucking sad. As I said, I will take some of the responsibility for my past periods of indecision, but not all of it. No way. Just... No fucking way. I have considered the relational analysis for far too long. Later. No more coffee. I am on to the morning cocktail because my head is about as sideways as it can get these days. This is a combination of two facets; film and everything else. If you don’t know what the latter refers to, read a few hundred older essays. Don’t blame me for a lack of knowledge. I just sit here and type. I had thought due to the way I have romanticized the industry throughout the last thirty years that it had left me on the side of the road. That is not true as of five years ago. 2019 was key, believe me. Key, unlike many other years. The 90s were wondrous because I was driven. No more of that. But... 2019 altered my thinking and has resulted in a realization I did not need to feel. Now my head is even more fucked up than prior to just a few days ago. And what can I do about it? Your guess is as good as mine. Believe me when I say that I have tried to find a positive avenue for many years. This latest mindset is pretty fucking bad and is beginning to rival that of the loss of the Raven. Not good. One thought that has been in the background for several weeks is the idea of acquiring another slipper. Doing so could really lift me for a long period of time. It will cost, though, and I am not only speaking of the initial purchase price. That car would quickly become yet another project, albeit one with the power to drive me up and out of the din far enough to actually survive. Maybe. There can be no way to know without jumping off a cliff. At least I have latent knowledge of what the slipper represented. Perhaps I’ll feel the same as I did more than fourteen years ago when I drove the car home from the dealer. Another positive is that my brain contains a vast amount of knowledge regarding the elusive model, from conception to manufacturing and on to the service aspects. Just like when the sentient weaponry stares at other people, the twin gazes are looking straight at me. This is good and not good at the same time. I have to get away from all that shit for a while. On other fronts, I secured materials for three different projects the other day. The drainage system is in process, the new storm door work is ready to begin (even though the door itself will not be here for two weeks), and the fog cooler has advanced to the point of only needing to be assembled. Between those three, I may be able to rise above the rest of my life’s considerations for a while. Distractions are always helpful. Once the morning cocktail is fully consumed, I plan to work on two out of three. The weather is sunny and warm – for this area, anyway – meaning I can comfortably work toward the two fronts throughout the afternoon. The music of life will follow along at each step. Anything, and I mean ANYTHING that has the power to pull me out of the din for a little while is always welcomed. I can’t speak for when those projects are finished, though. I’ll probably fall back to the point of feeling suicidal again. Hmm... There is a fourth endeavor awaiting my attention. I still need to power down this machine and go through the process of relocating it. I’ve not addressed it for a while due to the fact that I need some decent video media in the background while working, and with the control center inoperative, I will be forced to resort to the phone coupled to my wireless MDRs. I suppose a more productive mood must strike at the proper moment for the change to come to fruition. One of these days I’ll take care of it and reap the benefits. All of this is nothing more than a method of forgetting the bad shit for a time. I have no illusions anymore. If I continue watching the current series, both Kerry and Chiara are going to combine and derail anything further. Pieces of me are missing. That means when I see them, there is a deep-seated need for a repeat of the past, and that type of situation is no longer possible despite being one of the very few parts of life that keeps me alive. Either the projects will win or I will degrade into a pile of desire. In any case, I live with the knowledge that I am powerless to effect change in any positive direction. I believe the time has come – thanks mostly to the numbness resulting from my morning cocktail – to move away from the control center and work on something else, along with a period of loud music. I rarely break out of the daily norm, and apparently today is no different. Nothing surprises me anymore. Sunday. The drive is behind me. There was a FUCKING AMAZING sight when I directed the car from one side of the building, around two blocks, and to the alley behind. She was between, unfortunately, and I only caught a glimpse as I passed at speed and turned my head in the hope of seeing her through the parked cars, Well, I did. Spandex; purple and black. Lines on display. All of them. The sight was too damned quick for more information and I am frankly surprised to have seen her at all. The drive continued as I hoped she would appear again around the block. Nope. Marvelous. Good and bad? Mostly bad. I really needed to see more, damn it, and I am always willing to endure the pain and suffering just for the chance to learn if some woman out there within the masses could actually be ‘her’. That’s right, folks... The topic is on my mind each and every day without fail, and regardless of whether such thoughts end up here. Just know that the search does not end. I need her too much to cease my efforts. Those lines were amazing to no end and I was caught off-guard by her form and height. I can only hope that someone, somewhere, and at some time is telling her that she is beautiful. I can only hope. The way I felt as the car rounded the first corner can’t be adequately described here. The need was so strong that there is no way in hell I could ever convey as much to another person, let alone the damned keyboard. I just have to fucking lump it, like always. She was something to see. Um... Sunday. That paragraph went off the fucking rails. I shall try again. The drive is behind me and went very smoothly. This is the best day of the week because many do not work. The roads are mostly empty, meaning though there are still assholes and idiots all over the place, the advantage is there are fewer on this day. Better than nothing. I have the day to myself and my game is on during the early afternoon rather than morning like last week. This is good because I can have the bulk of my business out of the way prior to kickoff. Holy fuck is Chiara gorgeous sometimes. Scary, but lovely. Anyway, yesterday I drilled the cooler and fabricated most of the piping for the fog chiller. Today, I may or may not work on the interior platform that will hold dry ice. I might take care of the usual work and then relax for the duration. There is currently a shitload of very depressing thought processes inside my head and if I am to accomplish anything today and earn some down time for watching the game, I need to find a way to put it aside for a while. As I often muse, the more I see, the more I feel, and the less appealing are my remaining years. I don’t like it when Kerry does a nude scene. It makes me uncomfortable because my heart is involved rather than feelings of a physical nature. Damn. That was her decision and I respect it, but for me, I’d prefer she remain clothed for the duration. Anyway, at some point I will make up my mind as to how I should go about the work today. I may have mistitled this shit. My brain has been traveling all over the wonderland that is the film industry, and I can’t help but think that though I’ve railed about my feelings in the past, nothing has ever come across as a proper representation of the way film can hit me at times. It hurts, yes, but there is more, and the magical period toward the trailing end of the glowing years may have been key. I need to explore it more when the mood strikes. And yes, that was the time when I met the CD changer girl. Interesting, yet she was unrelated to my real love. The love was all over those screens we had mounted above the entrance to the CB shop. I probably went into this before, as well. The big dishes that were on the canopy of what had been a gas station in the past carried at least four signals into the shop, and from four different birds in orbit (satellites). That was the old way of doing things that eventually went the way of the dodo bird, or sometime during the late nineties. My place in the shop afforded me unrestricted access to lots of programming that was otherwise unavailable to me at the time. I am speaking of ‘cable’ channels – and yes, they are always referred to as much despite being completely wireless – that I’d not seen before, two of which allowed me inside the film and television industries at a time when some pretty fucking massive movie premieres were on the horizon (such as Jurassic Park). I was glued to the screen when the promotions and product tie-ins for summer movies were in full-swing. Even later, like two years after that wonderful summer, I was still full of wonder and excitement over the products that were branded for particular films. I remember my coworkers and I going goo-ga over ‘Congo caps’ that were atop bottles of soda and which contained game pieces. Getting back to ‘93 when I was at the shop, I now believe there was a very strong push for me toward the film industry that was born while working and watching entertainment channels dedicated to the same. Something very special took place at that time and I am having a hell of a time trying to describe my feelings. 'Jurassic Park' was a massive opening that was pushed by a $65 million marketing campaign which saturated the nation. Much of what drew my eyes to the main entertainment channel was information about the film, some of which had comprised short scenes and interviews with the main cast members. There were also ‘behind the scenes’ featurettes that pulled my attention unlike any other film opening to that point in history. At the same time, the grand opening of a few Planet Hollywood restaurant locations were featured, most notably the one inside the Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace in Vegas. That was fucking huge because the main investors were there – Schwarzenegger, Willis and Stallone – along with a slew of media coverage. The combination of the film and restaurant openings catapulted my dream of being involved somehow, mostly in the process of shooting a film. The summer in the shop was wondrous far beyond anything I am capable of describing right now. Maybe I made the point, and maybe this is not enough. I don't know. One thing for sure is by the time we left the state a few months later, my head was awash. My feelings carried on at least as strongly and all the way to the following summer when I went to the local movie theatre at least twice per week all by myself just to be immersed in the suspension of disbelief. Another early push was the dome in San Jose and the manner in which it kept the past glory of cinema alive and well for so long. I visited that theatre many times – along with two of its companion theatres nearby – throughout the glowing years. Going back and then forward, I will say that my earliest memory of the dome was seeing ‘Star Wars’ in 1977, and then after a roughly three-year hiatus in visiting the theatre I returned during 1996 to see ‘Eraser’ with a friend. The gap in time caused me to feel a bit unfamiliar with the venue, and when combined with a beautiful renovation while I was living in the Midwest, the result was my wide-eyed wonder at walking into the auditorium again and seeing one of the most dramatic displays of cinema prowess on the entire West Coast. The 74-foot curved screen hit me in the face unlike anything else for a very long time and I was immediately in love. I would like to try conveying the feeling of sitting directly centered while waiting for the lights to dim and the curtains to open, but the truth is I don’t believe I am able to fully get the point across. And yes, the auditorium still had motorized curtains hiding the screen when not in use. The entire building is circular, with the concession stand just inside the front doors and centered. Restrooms flank the twin concession lines on the outer edge, and the two entrances to the auditorium itself curved around from each end of the stand. I walked that path after forgetting its appearance for a few years, and around to the lower-middle section of seats as the screen stretched from just in front of me all the way to the opposite side. My heart was in my throat for a few minutes. I believe I’ve gone over some of the more dramatic film openings there, most likely in ‘The Fellowship of the Bling’. I can never say enough about the way I felt visiting that theatre again after being absent for a long while. As an aside, I will state that some of the people I’ve met here in this town are huge fans of the Star Wars franchise, and most of them were not born when the first film premiered. When I revealed that I was there during its opening week, there was a plethora of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from everyone. That’s pretty cool. The loss of that dome is akin to the loss of the Raven. Believe it. My love for the dome is analogous to my love for Her. Believe that one, too. I don’t believe there was a single catalyst at any point in the past. My love for the industry had to have been born of a combination of situations, two of which are above. There is more, too, such as when I returned from the Midwest and tried to write a screenplay, later using my dad’s 8mm video camera for experiments. Ah... Something else just popped into my brain, but not from the past. A recent realization that one of my favorite directors had felt as I did when he was young and fascinated by films. Later, however, our lives did not follow similar paths. He chased the dream and achieved it, whereas I chased after answers to questions that still plague me to this very moment. Marvelous. I cried at the end of one particular movie not long ago and that fucking realization was the reason. I really didn’t need that, but the fault is mine because I know full well what will happen to me if I view certain films from the past. Anyway, the realization hit me upside the head pretty bad, mostly due to the fact that I had forgotten such a story over a long period of time. The end of the film in question is a nod to his favorite place in the world, and mine as well. It is also an enormous homage to the industry in general, and the process of creating films in particular. Yes, all of that is inside the story. His creation shot me back in time to the summer when I watched all that media coverage of ‘Jurassic Park’ and other premieres and became completely enamored by every single fucking aspect of it. The film is also a problem for me because I can’t watch without losing my shit for a while and then walking around the house while going on a tirade about where I am versus where I always dreamed of residing (and I am not referring to a fucking town). I have to get away from this for a while and begin some housework. You probably already know that I will return to the keyboard shortly with a fatass cocktail. No shit, huh? And so it is. While cleaning the kitchen, I calculated that my description of the dome should have been tensed in the past rather than the present. It is there, albeit nothing but a hollow structure is all that remains of the once famous, beautiful and wondrous place that transported me and many others to far-off, fantastic places for five decades. I won’t even begin with the fucking parking lot antics. I’ve gone into that stuff before. Monday morning and I am pleased to be awake after a fairly frightening and unnerving dream. Ugh. I don’t know where the imagery came from, but I didn’t like it one bit. I wouldn’t really call it a nightmare, though, because the situation was not overly scary. Perhaps the movies are messing with my brain during the evening. Yep... I went straight back to the source of much of this discontentment over the past, the same three films that came along just after I watched one of the most damaging feature films ever. A story within a story is what comes to mind, although it’s actually a bit different than such a simple idea. Whatever it is, my head and heart end up smashed to bits by the time the end credits finish crawling up the screen and I gaze at the beautiful logos that have stirred me to the core for many years. Some of them have been displayed here after captures and I will probably continue the process if something comes along that aligns with my taste. Not only the logos, either. The manner in which the film was crafted – as many ‘practical’ effects as possible as opposed to CGI, just like the other one from 2019, the same year – carried within a ‘love letter’ to the entire industry in general, and Hollywood in particular. The entire sequence of events over which I began to gush quickly became very important to the way I feel about the entire process of filmmaking. Too bad I am not involved in the fucking thing. Splendid. My feelings continue to spiral since watching the first documentary the other day, and this morning is no different than the rest... I am very displeased with the past. Some of it, anyway. There are a few periods that mean more to me than most people. I can’t do anything about this mood right now. I just have to lump it, I guess. The decision to watch one of the films yesterday was entirely mine. Of course, knowing in advance that I will end up very sad doesn’t help, but given the choice to see or not see, learn or otherwise; I’ll watch every fucking time. That is reflected by my feelings of either having nothing at all to do with those beautiful processes, or following along out of sheer love and appreciation. That is an unavoidable decision at times. I’d rather sit here sad and in pain than miss out on what those individuals broke their backs for in order to entertain us. Yesterday was ok for the most part. All the business was completed prior to relaxing on the sofa (except for the game, which turned to shit... Heh), and I took care of dinner preparations in good time. Today will likely follow along the same path. This is pretty much all I have anymore, hence the need to go back in time to when I may have actually been happy. Whether or not I knew as much is anyone’s guess, but looking back helps me organize some of the driving forces that keep me drawing breath these days, and the industry is one of the most powerful. I find it fascinating that though everything seemed to hit a high point after heading to the Midwest, the summer just prior to moving represents the first time I was ever exposed to a shitload of ‘behind the scenes’ material. All of the years prior to having the ability to tune those odd channels from a satellite were very limited with regard to any decent exposure inside filmmaking. There were few resources beyond that of television, unlike today. Standing there watching the daily broadcasts that covered the industry was amazing and my eyes were about as wide as possible. Most of the time there was very little work for me because few people even stopped at the shop. As a CB and audio installer, there was nothing for me to do aside from watching television along with one of the store owners. The slow days allowed me plenty of time for absorbing the wonder and beauty that played a tune for my heart. ‘Jurassic Park’ actually went into wide release on June 11th, 1993, and that means I can calculate working at the shop during the months leading up to that date. I was still working there when I went to see the film with two family members. I have scattered memories of the glowing years because pinpointing certain events after more than three decades is very difficult. The CB shop is one of those I can actually identify on the calendar. And I don’t even know if the true dates are very important anymore. What carries the most significance for me right now is learning what pushed me to feel this way about the film industry. The theatre was a huge influence, of course, although much of my time spent there in full appreciation of the venue’s importance was after returning from the Midwest as opposed to before leaving the state. All of this shit may point to the summer at the CB shop and my related wonder at seeing the industry from the other side as the main reason for such emotional reactions to film. Whatever the case, the summer of 1993 is one of the most cherished memories inside me and has been for many years. The film in question, as well. During the afterglow, I had the JP score in my car and listened while commuting. Each occurrence of the main theme caused my heart to swell. John Williams was not nominated for an oscar for ‘Jurassic Park’ that year, but he did win for ‘Schindler’s List’, and rightly so. Just a thought. Anyway, the glowing years are precious to me for several reasons, and the trailing end of that period is now toward the top of the list. The wonder of the film industry may be the only aspect of life with enough power to shove my obsession to the rear at times. Unbelievable. I have not visited a theatre of any kind for more than five years because I have feared the emotional upheaval may cause more harm than good. At the 2020 Oscars, Margot Robbie referred to the theatre as ‘the most exciting place in the world’. It was as such for me, and over time that image faded due to factors beyond my control. Digital cinema, for example, was a push that irritated the hell out of me because the recording and screening processes changed from art forms to memory and data processing. I’m sorry, but Lucas’ point of film being a ‘19th century invention; something that needs to retire [sic’ was way off the mark. Art should never be abandoned in any form, and that statement is coming from a conventional person rather than some hippy-ish, pot-infused yogurt and spinach-juice consuming electric car driver. Are people still painting on canvas? Why didn’t they switch to a digitized touch screen connected to a computer? You know why... It is art, just like film. It is a tangible medium which is tender, touchy and temperamental, yet beautiful at the same time. Like analog audio, it is ‘continuous’, yet few seem to actually care anymore. Well, the theatre is too different now than in the past and I don’t think I’d react well to seeing a digital projection of something that should have been shot on film in the first fucking place. My two cents often bloats up and outward to millions of dollars, but at least sometimes I am correct. Wait... What? Correct? Wasn’t I expressing an opinion? YOU make the call. At some point I need to abandon this typing and do some housework. Damn. The entry is not wavering as much as I had expected at the beginning, and sometimes when I have tons of thoughts, the housework must wait until I record them. Kerry is stunning right now. Fuck. Film or obsession? I don’t fucking know anymore, but the industry is key for the moment. Later, the same day. I finished the usual morning stuff and poured myself a fat cocktail to calm my insides while thinking about all this shit that is gone from my life. There is so much more that I don’t know how long the damned entry will be in a few days, but I am overly compelled to try describing my feelings regarding something embedded so deep in my heart. Once my drink is consumed, I may or may not go further around the house, but right now I just don’t know how I will feel. There is much to convey. I honestly hope I am doing this for good reason. I need to search the IDE for any mention of an event from the Midwest period that is as clear in my mind as the day it took place. Along such lines, there is another story related to being closer to film than I had ever thought possible. During the early part of the afterglow, my dad and I visited the cinema to watch a film. Several visits back then, actually, but one stands out because I had been so enamored with the process of stories playing out on the big screen. We were early due to my need to spend as much time in the theatre atmosphere as possible. Having some extra minutes prior to taking our seats, I had the idea to request a little conversation with the manager. I asked if we could visit the projection room. After a safety spiel and some very pointed words regarding ‘quiet’ and ‘touching’, he relented and led us up the stairs to a very long, rectangular space that served all of the screens. One room. Upon entering, we remained quiet and when I had questions, everything was whispered. Standing before me, there were no less than ten Xetron projectors, each pointing slightly downward to small windows at the rear of each auditorium. Next to each unit was a pair of large platters rather than reels. The films arrived in twenty-minute sections and were then spliced together to form one complete section. The film was pulled from the inner part of the top platter, through looms that led it into the top of the projector, and then back across to the lower platter where it rolled up from the center out. Once complete, the process was reversed using a greater number of looms to lead the film through the projector and back to the top platter. It was amazing, and the manager explained some of the steps involved. He also led us close enough to the nearest projector to explain the relationship between each frame, the sprocket holes and the way the audio was encoded into the film itself. I could see the sound processing equipment that was built into the body of the massive projector, as well. The entire scene was fucking amazing and I will never forget his willingness to allow us entry to that room, one full of sheer value. I am not referring to only the roughly $100k cost of each projector, but the reels of film themselves which carried an even higher cost just to RENT from the studio. Unbelievable. Upon returning to the lobby, I regaled the manager – who was a huge fan of film just like myself – with the tale of seeing a 70mm movie while I lived in Michigan, and the unreal opportunity to stand in an 80-year old projection room with three units that each carried 20-minute reels of film. They were huge. He loved my story and there is much more to it, but I am not going to go into the tale until I ensure I haven’t described it here in the past. Hmm... After searching for some key terms, I don’t believe I’ve ever told that story on the site. Interesting. Anyway, once we shook hands (firmly, for sure) with the manager, it was off to the snack bar and then our seats. I can’t recall what movie we were there to watch, however I do know that whatever was the title it took a back seat to the projection room. At one point some weeks later, I actually considered seeking employment at a classic theatre just to handle the film itself and, in at least one rather distant fashion, be involved in a part of the industry. I never went further with the idea, though. Life got in the way, as it is loath to do. I can’t forget the sight of an enormous Xetron projector and all of the related functioning equipment connected therein. Beautiful; stirring; wondrous. Only trains carry similar feelings. Not my obsession. Film and trains. Why do I say as much? Because neither would ever betray me. Another story? Why not? This one means more to me than actual living, breathing people. I don’t recall the year. I lived in the Midwest for a short time, so the event took place somewhere between the middle of 1994 and the latter half of 1995. That will have to be close enough. I wish I had a ticket stub. Whatever. For months while driving into Saginaw from Reese – roughly ten minutes or so – the typical route took me through the old section of their downtown area. On the right-hand side of the main drag was the Temple Theater, and I gazed at the marquee every time the car passed by. The theatre ran older films, mostly ‘classics’, as opposed to anything new thanks to the massive theatre at the opposite end of town. I always noticed the title of whatever was on the marquee just in case they ran across something I wanted to see. The theatre was very old and still appeared as it did during the heyday of the studio system, complete with an organ which rose from below the orchestra pit. The screen was enormous, as well, much like many of the art-deco theatres that used to be found in most large cities. I don’t know the dimensions. The projection room housed three huge, WWII-era beasts that used arc lamps for sending the negative image across nearly 200 feet to the screen. Yes, arc lamps. The projectors were capable of threading both 35mm and 70mm film. I only visited the Temple Theater once while living in that area. Once. Oh, but the occasion was so amazing and stirring that I would never forget. Now we need a little bit of backstory. While living in Michigan, I quickly became enamored with any movie released on VHS that was presented in its original aspect ratio, which is to say the width-to-height relationship of a frame of film. Without going into the technical aspects or differing film ratios, I’ll say that televisions produced during that era contained the same screen ratio that was developed decades earlier. The ratio was 1.33:1. The result was a picture whose width was a bit more than its height, or a slight rectangle. Theatres typically projected films that were sized between 1.85:1 and 2.39:1 (or in some rare cases, 2.35:1). The wide image in theatres exemplified the dramatic difference between television and film and provided a much more panoramic vision than was available at home. When movies were displayed on a television at their original aspect ratio, the process was referred to as ‘letterboxing’, and the image was a very different shape. Think of a rectangle inside a square, more or less. Some viewers felt that the black bars at the top and bottom meant part of the image was cut off, when the opposite was actually true. A rectangle will not fit in a square without some adjustment. All this information may fall on deaf ears nowadays because televisions are all the same. I’ll avoid the idea of HD programming being produced at an aspect ratio of 1.77:1. Whatever. No one gives half a shit anymore. The point is that watching a movie on a television that had been intended to be projected in a theatre meant loss of picture, be it via size reduction or ‘cropping’ the image to fit the screen. My love for the cinema dictated that I seek a way of reproducing the same aspect ratio as that which the film was shot. I rented some titles and always sought a ‘director’s cut’ or some other special edition that honored the intent of the filmmaker both in content and aspect ratio. Prior to the release of the disc set, there was no home media version of the film in question that was presented at 2.35:1. In fact, nearly all home video was produced to fit the typical television screen, yet some directors actually dictated that their films were released on videotape with no modifications. After studying about the different processes and display parameters, I quickly learned that the medium of choice was a disc (this was years before the DVD was in wide release), yet I had no laserdisc player or software. Being a fucking nutcase about film, I began to collect certain titles that were released as special editions in the hopes of being able to play them at home some time in the future as they were intended to be viewed. I spent an inordinate amount of money on laserdiscs without the technology to watch them. Yes, I was out of balance. In the interest of avoiding too much boring information here, I’ll reveal the movie in question: It was ‘The Abyss’ from 1989. Unfortunately, more preamble is again necessary. And I'll have to add an image because the aspect ratio business can be confusing. The top represents the older standard television with each aspect ratio increasing down the image for reference. The only way to fit a rectangle into a square is either chopping off the left and right edges, or shrinking it to match the width. That's that. Film is different than broadcast television and has been for many decades. So, I watched that highly anticipated movie in a local theatre shortly after it was released. ‘The Abyss’ was a watershed moment in film history because of the practical and digital effects. The story and visuals were amazing and the film was very popular. Well, while shopping around in the disc aisle at my favorite movie store, I ran across a special edition of the film that was not only in a widescreen presentation, but had been lengthened by way of the director adding back into the film in excess of 30 minutes of material that had been removed in order to shorten the story enough for the studio to agree to a release. The box set of discs also included a booklet which outlined the changes in great detail as the additions had actually altered one of the main premises of the movie. When the studio directed the filmmakers to cut sections of the movie, they had to go all the way through the nearly three-hour run time and chop anything that made reference to any other part that had been cut out. The process dropped the running time of the film from 2h 51m all the way down to 2h 20m for theatrical release. I purchased the box set – again, despite no hardware for playing the discs – for a hefty price and cherished it. The version in question was released in April of 1993 and I was unable to watch my discs for nearly three years, but there was an event that took place in between those periods which caught me off-guard. Thinking of that time still makes my heart leap to this very day. I should point out that some people are not going to understand my feelings toward the film industry and this story, and that is just fine. The event took place nonetheless. As I drove into the city along the typical route one morning, my partner noticed the Temple Theatre’s marquee had changed from previous weeks. I stopped the car and read everything: ‘The Abyss 1989 full-length and in 70mm’. Two lines below that: ‘This weekend only’. Well, that was that. I had to attend. The clincher is the idea that I had never seen the full-length version of the movie on film, and yet owned the discs. I would be seeing the director’s cut for the first time not only on film, but in a rare form... 70mm. I decided the opportunity was important enough for us to arrive early, and my partner suggested that I bring along the booklet from the laserdisc box that outlined all of the changes. Good idea, that one. When the night finally arrived, we did indeed get there early and I was fucking floored to find others wandering the lobby and a few actually carried the SAME BOOKLET from the home video version of the movie. No, I am not kidding. We discussed different aspects of the film and the story, and eventually made our way into the auditorium, which I had never visited before that night. Gorgeous. I immediately climbed the steps to the balcony and continued all the way up to the little (cramped) projection room and asked permission to enter. Two much older gentlemen invited me inside to see everything and proceeded to explain the origins of the projectors and the complete operation of the arc lamp system. I was wide-eyed like never before. The film was right there – three 20-minute reels already on the projectors, and six more awaiting loading. I was asked to avoid touching the film or canisters because the theatre paid in excess of $7000 to have the film shipped and insured from Chicago. The value of the 70mm film in its entirety was estimated by them to be more than half a million dollars, hence the no-touching. They stated they had been quite lucky to be allowed to show the film at all, let alone the full-length version on 70mm. I shook hands, thanked them profusely, and returned to my seat. I sat and gazed at the 70-plus-foot screen that was being lit from just under two hundred feet away and watched the entire production play out for the first time. That’s my story, and it is one of the reasons I feel the way I do not only regarding the past, but the future of filmmaking as well. Film projection is one gaze. You can guess the other. I can’t truly convey the feelings involved in that story because what’s in my heart may not exist in anyone who may run across this material. That’s a nice thought. I will say that the sequence of events as it played out was one of the most heartwarming parts of my life, sad as that might sound. I loved it, and still do. The fact that I was so goo-ga over seeing the full-width version of certain movies and then secured media that I had no way of reproducing is just one aspect of the whole affair. The kicker was that despite my lack of hardware to play the discs, I ended up seeing the uncut version of the movie on actual FILM prior to ever having access to a Laserdisc machine. The experience was unexpected and completely unbelievable; a chance encounter with the theatre at the proper time. I have no idea of whether or not my story will mean anything to anyone else, but it solidified my feelings toward the film industry in a way I could not have imagined prior to seeing the marquee that morning. I will say something that most people would find interesting, and that is the fact that the tickets were $3 and the popcorn was priced the same. Compare that shit to the present. Tuesday morning arrived and I drove to the City. Most of the ride was fairly smooth for a weekday. The only rub was a jogger on Franklin Street that pulled my eyes out of their sockets. I saw her again on the return trip, believe it or not, as she walked in the opposite direction one block to the west. Unreal, that form... Bouncing ponytail; bouncing breasts; pants that provided a clear view of her beautiful lines. She caught me upside the head like so many others. The City is tough sometimes. Upon arriving home, I poured some coffee and typed out the rest of my story. Now I have the rest of the day for my usual business and then whatever else seems best. The inside of my head is caught between dreams of the film industry and visions in full-motion video of that girl jogging up the hill. Damn. I’ll be escaping the clutches of the IDE soon to care for the house. Yesterday I accomplished quite a bit in cleaning the living room floor and windows. As for today, I may be too far down the rabbit hole to do as much. To my right, the gangsters are again gracing the display. The series with Kerry ended yesterday morning. Now I can gaze at my reference standard love in the entire universe. Splendid. I think the trip next month is off. Well, next week. Seven days from now is when I would be leaving very early in the morning to clear the entire area prior to most people heading to work. Most of a day of driving, one day to look around and visit the exhibit, and then another day of driving. As I said, I believe it’s off. This is good because I’d be exposed to far more than I care to see and being in close proximity to film studios without the time to take a few tours would hurt. Remaining home is probably the best idea, the next possible road trip being in four months around the time of my birthday. At least then I can dictate the destinations. Better than nothing. I’ve been dreaming of touring Paramount for years. The timing has to be right so there is no hurry, less driving, and more places to visit on tap. A trip like that – just as most that I envision and try to plan – would be very cost prohibitive. The last major road trip was in 2018 during the week of my birthday, and that entire journey is something I’ll never forget. It was amazing. I’ll have to consider options for January. Now may be the time to come up with something that can lift me for a while. Yesterday afternoon I found myself again watching one of the documentaries that follows the eighth installment of the Star Wars series. The material is quite extensive because the documentary crew was on hand since the idea was conceived and followed along all the way to the actual premiere. Every step of the filmmaking process is featured. The running time of the supplementary material exceeds three hours and I fully intend to watch every fucking second. I believe I was less than an hour into it when dinner time rolled around yesterday. I’ll be back there watching again very soon because I am a fucking basket case. The process is bad for me and I do it anyway, much like occasionally watching a few select films that I know will cripple my ability to move forward in life. The need to see as much as possible likely dates all the way back to the end of the glow when I had access to channels otherwise unavailable to me. The satellite systems for entertainment were superior to typical cable television, and even in these late days still proves the best option. Think about it for a minute... Network television broadcasts are completely free over the air. Viewing through a wired cable provider costs money even though the air broadcasts are paid via network advertisements. So, the viewer pays for content that has already been paid for via ads. There you go. Ceasing the cable or modern satellite programming in favor of streaming media can reduce the cost, although as time passes, the different channels are slowly combining into ‘bundles’, meaning that very soon the cost of the streaming media will equal that of the cable subscription people wanted to shut off in the first place. During the summer of which I’ve spoken, the dishes on the canopy were of the old variety; framed mesh with a feedhorn for reception and a two-axis system for switching satellites. There were 18 birds in orbit and 24 channels per bird, most of which were tuned automatically by way of a 'polarotor', or a system designed to allow the dish to change position via commands from the receiver. As of this moment, I have no idea if those birds are still in operation considering the plethora of newer technology on much higher frequency bands that has taken over the world’s base of TVRO entertainment. The point of all this shit is that while I was at work, I had access to channels that were a part of a very expensive cable package. The satellite television providers had more options thirty fucking years ago than the present day, meaning if someone moved here from a foreign country and wanted to watch a broadcast from home, they could subscribe to a single channel rather than opting for a large package that doubtless carried tons of unwanted broadcasts. The CB shop was a dealer for those dishes and subscriptions. We had five birds to choose from and all 24 channels sent by each. I only watched one most of the time, and after seeing all of the background information on filmmaking, my need to be involved in the industry ballooned by a dramatic degree. The increase may have been an exponent. I don’t even believe I knew anyone that subscribed to some of the more obscure, industry-related programming. Watching at work was something I will never forget. What a fuckin’ tirade. I just happen to feel strongly about the advancement of technology and the way everything eventually becomes ‘generic’, such as a ton of very handy, very advanced electronic devices disappearing from the world because they were all rolled into a little rectangle that does everything. Something just came to mind... I can keep the cinema ‘dream’ alive by way of altering the video system in this little house. My current television is close to six years old and I’ve been seeing an increasing number of bright spots toward the bottom of the display throughout the past year or so. The LED panel is slowly degrading, as is the norm for a television of that age. My neighbor and I have been pondering replacement units that utilize OLED technology as opposed to the standard of LED because of the former’s ability to extend blackness and allow fast action to be displayed much more smoothly. As the video technology advances, however, so do prices. I wanted to opt for something with more longevity, hence my recent research into using a projector and screen as opposed to a television. Well, I’ve researched the idea and the cost is no longer an issue. An OLED television just a touch larger than the one currently hanging in my living room is somewhere in the neighborhood of $1400. If I change the system and install a fixed screen and projector, the price tag would be closer to $2k; not that much of a difference when you consider that the screen would not degrade at all over time. Proper care could keep it bright and sharp for decades. The only variable becomes the projector itself, which could be changed as necessary after four to five years or so. The one consideration that has me concerned is the fact that the smallest fixed screen from one of the best manufacturers is 77 inches when measured diagonally (the standard). That is fucking huge when held against a television I’ve been watching for almost six years that measures 58 inches diagonally. The upside, which pretty much squashes all of the downsides, is that when the screen is not lit by a projector, it appears as nothing more than a white rectangle on the wall surrounded by a neutral-colored frame as opposed to a big, black rectangle that protrudes much further from the surface (I am talking myself into a new system as I type these words). While I can admit that the television is on for most of the time that I’m home, the idea of something much less intrusive mounted on the wall during those times when it is not active has become very appealing. Combine that last thought with having what can be described as a small movie theatre inside the house and the solution becomes quite clear. For the time being, I will avoid trying to describe a 2.35:1 constant-height system. You don’t want to know. That idea would have been wonderful when I lived in the valley because of the layout of the living room and master bedroom. Alas, I did not have the chance to build the fucking thing. Wednesday is apparent on the calendar. Coffee. Gangsters, for whatever reason, are over to the right. This morning’s business was of the early variety, meaning I have lots of time to think prior to engaging in anything else. This is good. Well, it’s about as good as my life gets anymore. That’s pathetic. At least the free time is still welcomed. As much as my brain has been going back in time to the CB shop days, I am going to remain close to this machine each day just in case something comes along that I’ve not recalled before. That period was very important. IS very important, actually. The industry train is going to keep running until I am void of further information. I have clues as to a possible major catalyst, yet nothing solid. The summer of ‘93 was huge, though. So was the dome, even way back in 1989, which represents the first time I visited that theatre since high school. I think it was, anyway. The ensuing years found me there much more often. I’ve already gone into the afterglow and the beginning of the aughts when there was a following at that theatre unlike any other time. Perhaps my fascination is a combination of the dome and the summer of ‘93. They sort of ran together. Cocktail time. I took care of the usual business a bit earlier than most days because my head began to descend and I had to stop it right quick (or else). I can’t have that shit today. My work on this entry is very important; more than other concerns. I will not be derailed by looming imagery and memories of being right in the fucking middle of what I needed. With everything gone, the focus is more important than ever, especially when it concerns the industry and my understanding of how and why it became such a draw within my life. I have to relocate this damned computer tower at some point. The office is beginning to irritate me. The most likely reason I've not addressed this room for a long while is motivation. I am having a very difficult time caring about anything these days. The situation in the holy land has become infinitely more concerning since yesterday. The conflict has widened and I am worried that everything will worsen long before any possible easing of tensions and violence. I had thought the most prominent world leaders had been the most hard-headed, but the truth is the fucking middle east takes the cake. Everyone wants to fight everyone else, and each group seems to have God on its side. After centuries of the same shit, no one seems to learn a fucking thing. I am going to keep one ear to the world news for the duration just in case. As an aside, I must say that the holy land is an area more beautiful than I could have imagined, ancient unlike most of the world, and extremely important to a good portion of the global population, myself included. Once something ancient is destroyed, the beauty and wonder can never be recreated. I wish I could head over there and smack everyone upside the head to see if they can find reason. Eh... No one has that much power. Having God on your side is probably pretty damned compelling. I am sitting here in the quiet while looking out at the hills, and on the other side of the world things are nearly as bad as they can get. Should I make a sign and stand on the shoulder of the highway? That type of idea didn’t go so well for all of the protesters that blocked freeways and bridges earlier this year. I hope they now realize that nothing can be done. Ugh. I hate this fucking shit. I salute their convictions. I really do. I don’t agree with the methods, but passion at that level can’t be denied. Another aside... The upcoming election has been blown up beyond all rational explanation by the media and every other fucking person, but to me it is inconsequential. If I was a billionaire, I couldn’t buy enough ‘caring’ with every cent. Politics in this country has become so fucking stupid that I have to avoid the topic for fear of wearing out my favorite keyboard. The outcome may or may not affect the conflict over there in the beautiful holy land, although there is really no way to know for sure. We have all these different parties and each year only two of them seem to matter to the bulk of the dipshits living here. Wow... I believe I just had an epiphany: I can’t fucking stand the way the world operates and there is nothing anyone can do about it. Good fucking luck, shitbrains. Maybe when the ballot arrives I’ll write myself in. Yay! Eh... I’ve done that before. Never mind. The little one-sentence interludes can be quite entertaining, don’t you think? Here is another: Building the 4355s would be so expensive that I could actually purchase a pair of extremely large and very sensitive monitors for less than half as much. Isn’t that peachy? The process of actually building the 4355s would equal the journey, however I don’t know if I have that much left inside me. I just don’t see it right now. I would love to see and hear those monsters. Alas... My abilities continue to diminish as the days disappear under the massive trucks beneath the train that is life. Hmm... That’s much more than one sentence. Heh. The whiskey has loosened me a bit. This feels liberating. Will today be one of those that finds me with a second drink before lunch? God forbid. Father 'sleepover' is a schnorrer. Is there any significance to Thursday? Thankfully, yesterday did not turn into a pile of shit. I did not allow that to happen despite being in a very down mood. By late afternoon, I was in tears (again) due to one of the documentaries. I’ve gone through three of them, went back to the second, and then watched the third film in its entirety. Following the film itself is the supplementary material, so I let it roll for a while and ended up in the pit of despair. My head keeps traveling back to the early aughts when there was a documentary crew at the ballistics range. That was the first or second during my tenure. I loved all of it. The opportunity to make a change was never greater than during that day. Well, the ensuing months were the same. I had spoken to the sound engineer, who was very accommodating with my questions and such. He was very nice and I tried not to push. Oh, well... That went nowhere, yet the situation still comes to mind each time I see production actually in progress. This will probably not change anytime soon. The documentaries and other material that follow each film are extensive and I have barely watched a third of the entire series. I like seeing the details of how certain aspects of the films were created and shot. The information is fascinating to me. I don’t know how others may feel. Last night was pretty mellow thanks to being in such a somber state during and after dinner. The mood continues this morning as I sip coffee. The more I think about that time, the more I go further back to the CB shop, and I am not referring to the CD changer girl. She is outside all this other shit. I saw her twice in the space of a week which was wonderful, however the sheer power of being privileged enough to watch those amazing programs on satellite television takes the cake over the girl, by far. She was something to see, too. Obsession versus love; the latter will prevail every fucking time. Thursday may be completely meaningless. I’ll go through the motions like every day, take care of some housework and laundry, and then probably fall down again while not knowing how to proceed. Sooner or later, such a feeling always occurs. There is simply too much missing these days. I believe the documentaries that I’ve been watching bring me back to the exposure to background information that I soaked up while at the shop. Prior to working there, my only experience with TVRO was the occasional visit to either my great uncle’s house or one other location that was the home of my friend’s dad. Both had the very large, older dishes and receivers that allowed for viewing of media directly from the feeds, such as a live sporting event. My friend’s dad used to show off the fact that while watching a football game, for example, when typical broadcast networks cut to commercials, the feed that came directly off a satellite continued to receive information straight from the editing console, meaning the cameras around the stadium were active the entire time. The channels we watched (one in particular) at the CB shop were from subscriptions, so the advertisements came along just like any other television. Still, the experience ‘felt’ different due to having access to programming that was otherwise unavailable to me. Watching such media was quite compelling. Like the system at the home I mentioned, just the feeling of knowing everything was entirely different kept my eyes wide, not to mention anything related to the television and film industries. I was mostly glued to the marketing campaign and other information related to the release of ‘Jurassic Park’, in part due to both having become pervasive thanks to such a high-profile summer film. To this very day, the movie is considered one of the greatest ever made, and a watershed event in the history of the technical aspects of filmmaking. I was a witness to some of the background thanks to being able to watch the satellite feed during the period leading up to the film’s release. I had never been exposed to anything even close to that level of coverage. By the time we left the state some months later, my head was awash with every single aspect of filmmaking. Watching the final documentary regarding the ninth film in the Star Wars universe brought me back to the summer of 1993 with great force. Hmm... ‘Force’. Very interesting word choice. I ended up feeling a combination of fascination, appreciation and sadness. The latter eventually took over my afternoon and evening. Tears; tissue; feelings of loss and regret. I have to watch, though. I can’t fucking help it. The process will most likely continue later today because I am a glutton for punishment. At least I don't have to leave the house until tomorrow morning. Better than nothing, I suppose. I failed to mention one detail of the aspect ratio image above. The idea is to look at the shape and ratio of the top example and then carry the left and right sides (the vertical lines) straight down through the rest in order to see just how much of the film frame would be missing on a 1.33:1 television. Even with a newer model, there is still some loss beginning with 1.85:1 and heading further down the image. I hope that makes sense. Whatever. None of this matters to anyone but me. My coffee is waning. Work time is here. And... Done. I also slid the queen mattress into the big bag and rolled it all the way into the shed. Ugh. I’ve been procrastinating about moving that damned thing since the shed was built. Now that it’s out of the spare bedroom, I can go further with cleaning and improving the configuration. Not bad. I also took care of the daily routine. I need to relax for a while. The requisite glass of booze is here on the table. I had to switch off the gangsters again because of the fucking glitching bullshit that I can’t abide anymore. Prior to leaving the computer when the coffee came to an end, the program was running just fine. I don’t get it. Whatever. Bigger fish. Or, different fish. My obsession with certain mathematical and physical aspects of female beauty is not entirely my fault. There have been other factors – some which permanently altered the way I live and perceive society – that I’ve laid out on the site for years. As for my overly depressed and saddened state regarding the film industry, I often fully blame myself. The truth is that the two shit situations may have created a pattern of fear inside that ended up holding back opportunities which could have been very good for me. The entire shitaree is not very pleasant to consider anymore. I keep trying, though. No idea why. I can’t go back in time and walk through a door that no longer exists. The main issue is that I can never know if the idea would have been what I needed. After becoming absolutely enamored with the film industry a full decade prior to the big opportunity, one may have thought that taking a chance would have been an absolute lock, as it were, and something with the power to help me live life more fully. Nope. I was afraid. Some years later, such as toward the trailing end of my life in the valley, I felt that I was too old to break into positions geared toward young people. Moreover, I saw the industry changing – or, at least, my perception of it after being exposed to a few facts – and began to believe that any part in the modern version of movie making would have been very dissatisfying, or possibly disheartening enough to force me out with a changed opinion of something that I had loved deeply for decades. Another idea that became swept away by fear. Is there any significance to Friday? I doubt it. Yesterday turned out to be quite productive, although as is the custom of late, by the afternoon I was watching supplemental material on one of my favorite films. I had never played that disc before and found it both fascinating and depressing at the same time. Marvelous. I worked a little bit more after lunch. That process may or may not continue today because even at this early hour, I can’t see myself pushing much later. I need to pick up a few items at the big produce market on the other side of the hill, too. Sunday will be salad-prep day and I want to make sure everything is in place prior to visiting the festival tomorrow. Yes, I already know being there will be a huge problem for me. That’s a given anymore. I’d like to go to the big hardware store, too. The other day when I ventured over the hill, had lunch in the car and then shopped for some necessities, I actually felt a tiny bit ‘free’ as opposed to my typical emotional condition that hits me each day due to remaining home nearly all of the time. Sometimes fear will dictate whether or not I can roll further from home than the market down the street. I guess that day when I had lunch out something slapped me in the face and I was simply railing against the norm a little bit. That kind of action is rare. Some of this shit came to mind while watching the third documentary (attached to the ninth film; keep up) because I avoided a switch in careers because I was afraid of losing too much that had become very important to me, even if the loss was temporary (there is no way to know). Watching the filmmaking process, I realized that the individuals involved traveled far outside what could be considered their ‘comfort zone’ – and many other films I enjoy place actors, stand-ins and stunt people in crazy situations and very uncomfortable circumstances – yet they were so dedicated to the art being created that there had been zero doubt of what had to be accomplished. I’ve turned into the type of person that feels a trip to the fucking grocery store is difficult. Do you see? I also speak of the festival as if it is some kind of punishment rather than a place with food, drinks and live music. I wish I could pin down exactly how this fucking happened. Anyway, if the rare mood strikes, I might drive over there and do something similar to my trip last week. I don’t know why such ideas became so inflated. A little bit was probably the way everything turned to shit because of the virus, but as for the rest... Christ only knows. I don’t like feeling this way. A week ago Thursday was significant. The rest of the days are shit for the most part, and the thought of breaking away for a little while generates both anticipation and fear. Maybe something will change in the future if I can exert some force. Moving furniture yesterday was something similar; force. I pushed. I can’t predict what today holds for me. The second gaze is difficult to see here. Very difficult. What should I do? The morning business is later today due to a changed schedule. I’ll be into it very soon, though. Afterward, I’ll have to decide which market to visit and see if my brain leads me over to the hardware store near lunchtime. Good or bad as it may be, the last time sure felt interesting for a little while. There is even a tiny possibility that the way I felt twenty-one years ago when I took that hellacious left turn from work returned to my mind for a split-second. Maybe. I can’t be certain because after so many years, I am very different from the person who took that turn. As for my mood during the nine hours between when I made the decision and my arrival at the Luxor, I would say roughly ten percent was worried. The rest? I don’t know... Maybe sort of like a type of power that I had not previously thought possible. There was a touch of excitement because I was alone and did not need to concern myself with the wishes of other people, and a certain level of comfort in knowing that I was about to sink into the only lifestyle I actually ‘needed’ as opposed to those I may have ‘wanted’. Very interesting. Joseph Siravo is on the screen again. I swear to everything holy, I could fucking kiss him for the talent. Fucking awesome, that guy, and God rest his soul. Anyway, a drive over the hill today is not going to leave me feeling the need to exit the state. I may or may not feel a touch of freedom for a couple of hours. That’s it. Time for business. The day is all mine. Morning stuff is now out of the way; coffee is halfway gone; the house is again quiet. I still don’t know if I am going over the hill today. The hour is early and I have plenty of time to figure everything out. ‘Fuckin albacore around my neck!’ Holy shit, that was funny. Anyway, I’d like to continue in the spare bedroom for a little while and then move a few items to the shed since the larger furniture is all in place. I also need to get the folding wagon out of the shed and drop it in the car for tomorrow. My plan is to arrive early and leave early, unlike last year. Walking the festival route is tiring, especially considering the number of other people doing the same. Am I worried about seeing something special? Always. That’s a given due to experience. The less time on the street, the less chance there is of me falling off the edge of the world because of being absolutely obsessed with a very specific type of beauty. I will say that watching all of the background material related to my favorite movies does push those feelings to the rear for a time. I guess that’s better than nothing. The clock has already passed nine, meaning I’ll have to decide which way to shop later. I’m sure returning home will feel rewarding, like most days. Once the daily routine is out of the way, I shall finalize the plan. The second gaze is probably still not apparent in this essay. Big fucking surprise. Figure it out. Another decision I’ve been avoiding is which of the three big, long-term projects to attempt in the near future; the 4355s, a small machine shop, or a trike. I can’t know which may be the most rewarding. The only fact is that the most expensive would be the trike. I figure somewhere in the neighborhood of 20-30 grand would be required to make it run. The shop is much cheaper, likely topping less than $5k for everything. The downside to that wonderful, compelling idea is the garage would no longer have room for the car. I may not care. As for the monitors, I honestly can’t harbor a guess. The raw materials could be less than a grand, but the cost of the drivers and other electronics can’t really be predicted. If I try to use the OEM components, the dollars could skyrocket, whereas if I proceed like a few other builders, there can be a few aftermarket replacement drivers that would both lower the cost and lend to reliability. I should state that the idea of aftermarket components is not lost on me because the audio and appearance of the cabinets are the most important factors. Perhaps the entire project could be completed at a cost similar to the shop plan. Right now I just don’t know which is best, but I have to fucking start something soon or I’ll lose my shit. Part of the drive to build the monitors is the film industry, believe it or not. Some of the scores contain passages that can test the dynamic range and headroom of amplifiers, let alone the stress on the drivers themselves. The shop and trike ideas have nothing to do with my love for the industry. And there is another factor I need to consider when dreaming of the 4355s, and that is the very likely scenario that not one person on God’s green earth would understand their meaning, history or prowess, nor would they comprehend my need to build in the first place. As I sit here this morning, the 4355s are being pushed to the head of the line because of the industry and my background in the proper reproduction of music. The importance of the monitors is analogous to my stingy nature on the subject of sharing music with other people. I cannot be assured of the context. Marvelous. Without knowing the compositions would be produced in the proper context and through actual audio equipment rather than a fucking phone or some other new technology, I just can’t let music out of my hands in a way so as to feel good about the decision. Such thinking will most likely never be understood by those who know me. Eh... I don’t care. Like I used to say when I built a massive audio system in my little car many years ago, ‘I didn’t build all this shit for others to hear, only myself’. I was often asked why the balance, fade or equalization sounded off from the passenger or back seats. Heh. My music; my car; my blood and sweat. Fuck off. That probably doesn’t come across as even remotely friendly, either. Whatever. I don’t care. I do need to make a decision soon, though. That was the point before I went on yet another fucking tirade. Should I point out the second gaze? YOU make the call. Later. I took care of everything, and as suspected earlier, the decision to drive over the hill was an easy one. I remained close to home by visiting the hardware store and both the pharmacy and market on the return trip. Nothing of note took place, thankfully, and I gathered everything I needed save for one fucking piece of wood. The hardware store was sold to a large company last year and it is still being reconfigured and stocked. I guess I’ll have to go over the hill sometime next week. At least the drainage project is in good shape. I have everything I need to install, connect, and filter the water pump to be ready for the storm season. The gangsters are glitching again and nothing I’ve tried seems to help. I don’t understand the problem. Maybe I’ll try to ignore it and wait for the stream to smooth itself. The industry has not left my head this morning, even while driving and shopping. I did learn something yesterday, and that is the fact that each of the nine movies have additional material to the tune of roughly 3-4 hours each. I’ve only watched three of them. There is much more and I plan to relax later and take in a ton of fascinating stuff. Yes, watching those documentaries and other features depresses the shit out of me and I end up in tears half the time, but the compulsion takes over regardless of my condition. Much like the fucking lines of my life, I need to see everything. At least with regard to the film industry, my life is not at risk if I dive into the information. The lines have come close to killing me. Gaze? Hmm. Yesterday I watched a series of short background ‘extras’ that were included with a three-disc set I purchased a few years ago. Prior to grabbing the bonus disc during the early afternoon, I had never loaded that thing into a DVD player. Not even once. Well, the information is presented beautifully, and I was amazed at the level of physical construction and practical (in-camera) visual effects that were used in order to avoid too much CGI. A day earlier, I was replaying the fourth film in the Star Wars universe and marveled at the massive amount of computer work that went into that production. Personally, I appreciate the effort of practical effects over using CG imagery as a ‘crutch’. There are other ways of looking at the subject, but being my age and having been exposed to the original trilogy in actual theatres, the CG aspects of the prequels do not seem as creative on at least one level. Some stories, such as the one that brings me to tears every time I watch it, were created with the intention of everything being performed on-set rather than with visual effects in post-production. The downside is filming a ‘period’ piece becomes very difficult when trying to recreate a city or other landscape from the past. Buildings; vehicles; costumes... All of it is very expensive and requires both dedication and a hell of a lot of money. The film that I watch on occasion with tears is one in which the writer/director tried his damnedest to shoot everything practically. Alas, a few CG shots were necessary due to the time gradient. That’s perfectly fine because the intention was there and every effort was made to show off the way Hollywood appeared in 1969. As for the first of the prequels I mentioned above, to this very day I feel that much of it could have been shot on set much like the original trilogy. The man who made the decision just happens to be the same who declared film a ‘nineteenth century invention that must be advanced’. Ed Crasnick is fucking awesome. Just a thought. He's so funny. Is there any significance to Saturday? There may be. Today is the festival. Ugh. I’ll have to remain mindful of my surroundings and take everything slowly, I guess. At least the trip that was supposed to be this coming week is out of the question. Canceled. That’s good for one reason. I didn’t want to be close to the studios without touring. I didn’t want to be near a certain section of Hollywood Boulevard, either. Memories of one key film would have crippled me, not to mention that fucking restaurant. In the beginning, I had made a dinner reservation for fear that I may never have another chance to experience that place. That was the first plan to be dropped. Two weeks later, the entire trip is off. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this, although part of me is thinking that something around the time of my birthday might be best. I may have mentioned that already. Anyway, the festival will come and go and then I’ll have Sunday to take care of business and watch the game. I also have to make salads for Monday. I don’t like my time being overly scheduled, but having Sunday between the festival and a dinner uptown is very helpful. As for this morning, I don’t have much time to gather my thoughts. I’m sure I’ll feel plenty happy after arriving back home later. Part of me wishes that time was right now. Eh... I’ve gone to this thing before and came out the other side just fine. Jamie is adorable in this episode. She was really thin in the first season (an eating disorder; the poor girl) and her face followed suit. That made her big, beautiful eyes appear even larger than when she was older. Ooh-fa. I love her so much. Well, I cleaned up a bit and donned some comfortable clothes. I haven’t even stepped near the door yet and I’m already looking forward to being home again after walking around among those people. Yes, I realize there are good people out there. Sometimes they are difficult to see, that’s all. The train leaves in a little while. The festival came and went. This is the first time I’ve visited that extravaganza in thirteen years without seeing the sun appear at all. Very interesting. There was one woman who stood out beyond rational thought and I had the chance to stare for a few minutes. Other than that, only the damaging dreams came to mind thanks to a fairly large crowd. The booze helped me deal with the sight of a six-foot picturesque gazelle with enough information on display to cripple me for an hour. The damaging dreams came to mind quite often throughout the visit and carried on all the way until leaving the area and stopping by the bar for a little bit. Paulie’s date in this episode is rather disgusting. Just a thought. Six foot gazelle. Very rare in the real world. The damaging dreams sent my thoughts into galaxies that shall not be mentioned here or anywhere else. I need to relax and enjoy the fact that tomorrow is Sunday, there is plenty of time to get back into a normal routine, and I can care for myself as well. I need to remain far away from anything as beautiful and amazing as what I saw this morning. Everything is bad for me. The six-footer is going to haunt me for a little while because I am a fucking basket case. Very rare, that one. Very, very fucking rare in my experience. I need to get away from the IDE for a while. This is not enjoyable right now. Is there any significance to Sunday? Well, I don’t have to go anywhere now that the drive has been completed. Thankfully, there was nothing to see except the requisite cars here and there. The drive was smooth and quick, just the way I like it. My need to be here takes over the second my car exits the driveway and does not let up until I am parked again. As for seeing things in the City (or anywhere else), I’ve had quite enough of that this weekend. At least I can’t recall any dreams related to yesterday. That’s a positive. I can still see that woman and her stretched features, although I have no fucking idea of why the appearance is so fascinating. Maybe those years of watching runway fashion shows had more of an effect than I realized at the time. The models are almost always very tall. Anyway, her height was not the clincher. The fact that she was so slender caught me upside the brain, and that type of thing truly does not happen very often. I am glad there was nothing this morning. I don’t need any more of it. I wish I could remember; I wish I could know why things must be this way. Too many wishes; they are useless anymore. Too much missing; the holes in me run deep. Too much time has passed; it slices me to ribbons. I know not what to do. Perhaps back to the title of this shit. I dove back into the older films again yesterday. When I think of those times during the glowing years when we visited the big domes or other theatres, I recall staying in my seat until the ‘credits crawl’ was complete because I wanted to see every fucking name and role involved in the creation of the film. Jamie’s eyes are huge and I love them. Anyway, I still go through the same practice as thirty-plus years ago whenever watching movies, and most of what I seek is typically toward the end and involves the physical equipment itself. I don’t know why I’m still so fascinated by that stuff. Years later when I visited the second projection room – much more modern than the arc-lamp versions in the Temple – I took in as much as possible because I knew the visit would be both short-lived and rare. That was similar to watching the entertainment channels at the CB shop; I tried to learn and understand as much information as I could. The draw was so powerful, in fact, that most days I hoped no customers would walk in. I didn’t want my viewing time interrupted because nearly all of what I was seeing was unavailable elsewhere without a massive dish and subscriptions. I was in no position to do anything like that. I will say that once we moved across the country and I learned there was no cable television where we lived (very rural area, for sure), I dreamed of installing one of the huge dishes in the backyard. That would have been the best way to see everything I desired. Roughly a year after arriving there, I learned that there was a company that could install a small dish on the roof that received ‘line of sight’ signals from a nearby transmitter, much like a regular cable subscription. It worked very well and I was overjoyed to see some decent television for a change. I was reminded of that system last night while watching part of one of the movies I mentioned. The streaming device has processor and memory limits that can’t be upgraded, meaning the only way to increase its power is replacement. The applications continue to grow in size and the amount of hardware resources required for smooth playback, yet the device sits in a fixed state and can’t be modified. The only option is to use a computer, and I am not ready to build something out there strictly for watching video media because the process can be very touchy. Anyway, the movie glitched every now and then, interrupting the audio for a split-second. One channel (application) has been exhibiting such behavior for weeks, meaning the limits of the device have likely been reached. I have a new model sitting out there waiting to be installed. The existing device lasted three years and I see that as pretty good considering how cheap they are. All of this adds up to the fact that I need to see those films as they were intended, and I am unwilling to deal with any issues regarding playback or audio. The older movies must be respected because they paved the way for most of what is currently produced. Did you find the second gaze? Sunday means business. My coffee is nearly gone, so I’ll have to get a few things out of the way prior to kickoff in just over three hours. We go... And... Done. The preliminary business is finished and I have a head start on the garbage. By kickoff, everything should be in good order because I have a hell of a system for taking care of this little house. Oh, God... Her eyes are so fucking beautiful that sometimes I feel the need to go outside and beat my head against the concrete. The six-foot amazing beauty that I saw yesterday can’t hold a fraction of a candle to my feelings for Jamie. They continue to increase as time passes. Anyway, the time has come for me to relax with a fat cocktail for a little while before continuing around the house. I deserve that much, at least. Maybe. Eh, I don’t know shit anymore. The game is in two hours. Plenty of time. I will return to the film-related emotional turmoil after everything is finished today. As a damaging aside, I’ve been looking at the digital images I shot of ‘Jaime’ back in 2010 and comparing her stance with that of the tall one from yesterday. Judging by the surrounding individuals and her hands, Jaime had to have stood somewhere in the neighborhood of five-ten. I suppose all those models with their stretched features became injected into my head years ago and never went away. Believe me, I’ve seen some fucking stunning, amazing beauties that were anywhere from five even to perhaps five-three or four, and there is no difference with regard to attraction or desire. Height is something I have trouble explaining, much like years ago when I was enamored with long fingers. Whatever. Beauty is subjective and I am a fucking whack job anyway. This drink is delicious. I should be sufficiently lubricated enough to relax my head in a little while. Sunday business will be easier thanks to the alcohol, and whatever that says about me, I don’t give a flying fuck. I do what I need to do in order to survive. This entry is quite convoluted because I can’t focus on anything for very long without becoming highly distracted, usually by something unique, beautiful, or both. I’ve mentioned the search for years and for good reason. It never stops regardless of whatever else may be taking place here or elsewhere in the world. There are two wars raging on the other side of the world, yet my brain cannot absorb information about those terrible situations for very long before... Ah, it’s happening right now because of a woman on the right-hand display. See? There is always something. The essay suffers accordingly. There is nothing I can do about such a condition. Nothing. I am completely fucked. The keyboard pays no mind, nor do my feelings. Nothing changes. Everything worsens, and that includes feeling completely lost due to never taking an exit off the comfort highway out of fear. I shall never know what may have developed. What a mess."
The Twin Gazes of Film
Mature content No. 425 Published September 29th, 2024 11:25am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Is there any significance to Friday? Not anymore. This is just another morning. And Kerry is over there on the right-hand display again. God, she is so unique. Early this morning I dreamed of some woman that I do not know in life. I spent the time marveling at the dark appearance of her eyes and trying to relate her to someone I had known fairly well. There is no way to know who she was. Not Kerry; her eyes are green, I believe, and that is dependent upon the production design. I don’t know why I dreamed of such a person. I don’t need more visions in life or elsewhere, damn it. The morning is already a pile of shit. Yesterday I ended up with a partial head of steam and drove over the hill to visit one of the big stores. The trip turned out to be very successful as opposed to when I tried to find the same items locally. I also stopped off on the return for a few drinks and that segment of the trip was very quiet. I returned home some time later and took care of the usual evening business. Thanks to the hardware store, I have everything I need to build the drain system for the backyard as well as components for assembling the fog cooler. Is there any significance to Saturday? I should not have been watching all of the supplementary material that was added to the end of three films I purchased a few years ago. Totaling almost nine hours, there is a spread after the ‘credits crawl’ of each film that dives pretty deep into the process. I learned a ton of information, some of which hit me with the realization that the industry is not as different from the way it operated thirty-plus years ago. I am certain that not all studios work in the same way, though, meaning there are other productions that do not share such levels of detail and on-set work as with the three films in question. Kerry’s face is driving me nuts this morning. My feelings for her pale in comparison to the turmoil inside these days, to be honest. They pale quite a bit, and I am referring to the beginning of love. I am having problems with the passage of time and the manner in which I governed some of mine when a few opportunities arose which could have helped swing my path to and fro. I have to think about this for a little while because I can already see an end to this way of life creeping into my consciousness. It has been increasing in velocity for the last three days. There is probably nothing I can do about it, either, due to my having adjusted certain living parameters in order to be comfortable, and never looking very far ahead of where I had been standing. Another problem reared its head while I watched the first and third installments of the material, as well. A big problem, and something that now appears to be multifaceted in the face of everything I’ve already been feeling. More on the pile is not helping. I really don’t want to see that type of ‘brightness’ while lamenting my own processes throughout a period of many years. And believe me, the sight was about as bright, hopeful and positive as one may imagine. Seeing her reminded me of a close friend from the seventies who had a poster in his bedroom of a Panavision Panaflex Gold camera. All the way back then... He had a pretty good idea of what types of jobs he wanted to pursue. Ten years old. I failed to understand searching for a path at such a young age, and while watching the first part of all that material, something similar came along and hit me in the face pretty fucking hard. Eh... I made the decision to watch all that stuff so I should have been prepared for the pitfalls. Like I often tell others, ‘if you don’t like what you’re seeing on the screen, make a change’. I was full of wonder – and wondering – and part of me simply needed to find more information on the details of production because of the way so much has changed throughout the past twenty-plus years. I needed to know a few things and witness some of the work. Well, this is the result. I already mentioned that some of the processes involved were used in order to maintain a ‘classic’ method of filmmaking. That was a good portion of the problem inside me because I was convinced – without much investigation as opposed to assumptions – that the industry is vastly different than when I first became fascinated. This is not good. A period of roughly fifteen years has passed since my last idea to make a huge life change. That idea was left on the side of the road for two reasons I’ve already outlined here in spades, and over the course of many years. I need not go into it again. The bottom line is I was too afraid of making that change, and still am. Moreover, I am fifteen years older, and that fact raises the unanswerable question of ‘what would have happened?’, to mention just one. Not good. I cannot know, ever. All I can do is sit here and wonder. Saturday business will commence very soon. I still have coffee and a head full of bad thoughts. Some programs should not be viewed by yours truly because I am void of the ability to change anything, but sometimes I do it anyway, much like a handful of key films that always leave me fucking depressed afterward. There is nothing I can do about the feelings because too many years have passed that found me avoiding lifting a fucking finger to change anything. Unlike the other shit, I will accept some responsibility for allowing time to pass and sitting back while it crushed one of the largest dreams I’ve ever had. Of course, I can’t take all the credit. No fucking way. The two shit situations removed some of my long-term abilities before they had a chance to develop. There is no way around such a fact and I will argue the point until blue in the face. Wait... Flat on my face? Yes, that too. The whole thing is completely fucked up beyond rational thought. Despite the severity of this situation, the more I ponder my current condition, the more I realize certain very specific connections that developed over the last four-plus decades. They roll from fear and intimacy all the way to the other side of the planet and relate to my ongoing inability to take even the tiniest risk in life, from the simplicity of driving over the hill to go shopping and on to much larger, more dramatic changes that ‘could’ place me in a very uncomfortable situation. That means the rewards cannot hold a candle to inherent risk. Fucking sad. As I said, I will take some of the responsibility for my past periods of indecision, but not all of it. No way. Just... No fucking way. I have considered the relational analysis for far too long. Later. No more coffee. I am on to the morning cocktail because my head is about as sideways as it can get these days. This is a combination of two facets; film and everything else. If you don’t know what the latter refers to, read a few hundred older essays. Don’t blame me for a lack of knowledge. I just sit here and type. I had thought due to the way I have romanticized the industry throughout the last thirty years that it had left me on the side of the road. That is not true as of five years ago. 2019 was key, believe me. Key, unlike many other years. The 90s were wondrous because I was driven. No more of that. But... 2019 altered my thinking and has resulted in a realization I did not need to feel. Now my head is even more fucked up than prior to just a few days ago. And what can I do about it? Your guess is as good as mine. Believe me when I say that I have tried to find a positive avenue for many years. This latest mindset is pretty fucking bad and is beginning to rival that of the loss of the Raven. Not good. One thought that has been in the background for several weeks is the idea of acquiring another slipper. Doing so could really lift me for a long period of time. It will cost, though, and I am not only speaking of the initial purchase price. That car would quickly become yet another project, albeit one with the power to drive me up and out of the din far enough to actually survive. Maybe. There can be no way to know without jumping off a cliff. At least I have latent knowledge of what the slipper represented. Perhaps I’ll feel the same as I did more than fourteen years ago when I drove the car home from the dealer. Another positive is that my brain contains a vast amount of knowledge regarding the elusive model, from conception to manufacturing and on to the service aspects. Just like when the sentient weaponry stares at other people, the twin gazes are looking straight at me. This is good and not good at the same time. I have to get away from all that shit for a while.
On other fronts, I secured materials for three different projects the other day. The drainage system is in process, the new storm door work is ready to begin (even though the door itself will not be here for two weeks), and the fog cooler has advanced to the point of only needing to be assembled. Between those three, I may be able to rise above the rest of my life’s considerations for a while. Distractions are always helpful. Once the morning cocktail is fully consumed, I plan to work on two out of three. The weather is sunny and warm – for this area, anyway – meaning I can comfortably work toward the two fronts throughout the afternoon. The music of life will follow along at each step. Anything, and I mean ANYTHING that has the power to pull me out of the din for a little while is always welcomed. I can’t speak for when those projects are finished, though. I’ll probably fall back to the point of feeling suicidal again. Hmm... There is a fourth endeavor awaiting my attention. I still need to power down this machine and go through the process of relocating it. I’ve not addressed it for a while due to the fact that I need some decent video media in the background while working, and with the control center inoperative, I will be forced to resort to the phone coupled to my wireless MDRs. I suppose a more productive mood must strike at the proper moment for the change to come to fruition. One of these days I’ll take care of it and reap the benefits. All of this is nothing more than a method of forgetting the bad shit for a time. I have no illusions anymore. If I continue watching the current series, both Kerry and Chiara are going to combine and derail anything further. Pieces of me are missing. That means when I see them, there is a deep-seated need for a repeat of the past, and that type of situation is no longer possible despite being one of the very few parts of life that keeps me alive. Either the projects will win or I will degrade into a pile of desire. In any case, I live with the knowledge that I am powerless to effect change in any positive direction. I believe the time has come – thanks mostly to the numbness resulting from my morning cocktail – to move away from the control center and work on something else, along with a period of loud music. I rarely break out of the daily norm, and apparently today is no different. Nothing surprises me anymore. Sunday. The drive is behind me. There was a FUCKING AMAZING sight when I directed the car from one side of the building, around two blocks, and to the alley behind. She was between, unfortunately, and I only caught a glimpse as I passed at speed and turned my head in the hope of seeing her through the parked cars, Well, I did. Spandex; purple and black. Lines on display. All of them. The sight was too damned quick for more information and I am frankly surprised to have seen her at all. The drive continued as I hoped she would appear again around the block. Nope. Marvelous. Good and bad? Mostly bad. I really needed to see more, damn it, and I am always willing to endure the pain and suffering just for the chance to learn if some woman out there within the masses could actually be ‘her’. That’s right, folks... The topic is on my mind each and every day without fail, and regardless of whether such thoughts end up here. Just know that the search does not end. I need her too much to cease my efforts. Those lines were amazing to no end and I was caught off-guard by her form and height. I can only hope that someone, somewhere, and at some time is telling her that she is beautiful. I can only hope. The way I felt as the car rounded the first corner can’t be adequately described here. The need was so strong that there is no way in hell I could ever convey as much to another person, let alone the damned keyboard. I just have to fucking lump it, like always. She was something to see. Um... Sunday. That paragraph went off the fucking rails. I shall try again. The drive is behind me and went very smoothly. This is the best day of the week because many do not work. The roads are mostly empty, meaning though there are still assholes and idiots all over the place, the advantage is there are fewer on this day. Better than nothing. I have the day to myself and my game is on during the early afternoon rather than morning like last week. This is good because I can have the bulk of my business out of the way prior to kickoff. Holy fuck is Chiara gorgeous sometimes. Scary, but lovely. Anyway, yesterday I drilled the cooler and fabricated most of the piping for the fog chiller. Today, I may or may not work on the interior platform that will hold dry ice. I might take care of the usual work and then relax for the duration. There is currently a shitload of very depressing thought processes inside my head and if I am to accomplish anything today and earn some down time for watching the game, I need to find a way to put it aside for a while. As I often muse, the more I see, the more I feel, and the less appealing are my remaining years. I don’t like it when Kerry does a nude scene. It makes me uncomfortable because my heart is involved rather than feelings of a physical nature. Damn. That was her decision and I respect it, but for me, I’d prefer she remain clothed for the duration. Anyway, at some point I will make up my mind as to how I should go about the work today. I may have mistitled this shit. My brain has been traveling all over the wonderland that is the film industry, and I can’t help but think that though I’ve railed about my feelings in the past, nothing has ever come across as a proper representation of the way film can hit me at times. It hurts, yes, but there is more, and the magical period toward the trailing end of the glowing years may have been key. I need to explore it more when the mood strikes. And yes, that was the time when I met the CD changer girl. Interesting, yet she was unrelated to my real love. The love was all over those screens we had mounted above the entrance to the CB shop. I probably went into this before, as well. The big dishes that were on the canopy of what had been a gas station in the past carried at least four signals into the shop, and from four different birds in orbit (satellites). That was the old way of doing things that eventually went the way of the dodo bird, or sometime during the late nineties. My place in the shop afforded me unrestricted access to lots of programming that was otherwise unavailable to me at the time. I am speaking of ‘cable’ channels – and yes, they are always referred to as much despite being completely wireless – that I’d not seen before, two of which allowed me inside the film and television industries at a time when some pretty fucking massive movie premieres were on the horizon (such as Jurassic Park). I was glued to the screen when the promotions and product tie-ins for summer movies were in full-swing. Even later, like two years after that wonderful summer, I was still full of wonder and excitement over the products that were branded for particular films. I remember my coworkers and I going goo-ga over ‘Congo caps’ that were atop bottles of soda and which contained game pieces. Getting back to ‘93 when I was at the shop, I now believe there was a very strong push for me toward the film industry that was born while working and watching entertainment channels dedicated to the same. Something very special took place at that time and I am having a hell of a time trying to describe my feelings. 'Jurassic Park' was a massive opening that was pushed by a $65 million marketing campaign which saturated the nation. Much of what drew my eyes to the main entertainment channel was information about the film, some of which had comprised short scenes and interviews with the main cast members. There were also ‘behind the scenes’ featurettes that pulled my attention unlike any other film opening to that point in history. At the same time, the grand opening of a few Planet Hollywood restaurant locations were featured, most notably the one inside the Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace in Vegas. That was fucking huge because the main investors were there – Schwarzenegger, Willis and Stallone – along with a slew of media coverage. The combination of the film and restaurant openings catapulted my dream of being involved somehow, mostly in the process of shooting a film. The summer in the shop was wondrous far beyond anything I am capable of describing right now. Maybe I made the point, and maybe this is not enough. I don't know. One thing for sure is by the time we left the state a few months later, my head was awash. My feelings carried on at least as strongly and all the way to the following summer when I went to the local movie theatre at least twice per week all by myself just to be immersed in the suspension of disbelief. Another early push was the dome in San Jose and the manner in which it kept the past glory of cinema alive and well for so long. I visited that theatre many times – along with two of its companion theatres nearby – throughout the glowing years. Going back and then forward, I will say that my earliest memory of the dome was seeing ‘Star Wars’ in 1977, and then after a roughly three-year hiatus in visiting the theatre I returned during 1996 to see ‘Eraser’ with a friend. The gap in time caused me to feel a bit unfamiliar with the venue, and when combined with a beautiful renovation while I was living in the Midwest, the result was my wide-eyed wonder at walking into the auditorium again and seeing one of the most dramatic displays of cinema prowess on the entire West Coast. The 74-foot curved screen hit me in the face unlike anything else for a very long time and I was immediately in love. I would like to try conveying the feeling of sitting directly centered while waiting for the lights to dim and the curtains to open, but the truth is I don’t believe I am able to fully get the point across. And yes, the auditorium still had motorized curtains hiding the screen when not in use. The entire building is circular, with the concession stand just inside the front doors and centered. Restrooms flank the twin concession lines on the outer edge, and the two entrances to the auditorium itself curved around from each end of the stand. I walked that path after forgetting its appearance for a few years, and around to the lower-middle section of seats as the screen stretched from just in front of me all the way to the opposite side. My heart was in my throat for a few minutes. I believe I’ve gone over some of the more dramatic film openings there, most likely in ‘The Fellowship of the Bling’. I can never say enough about the way I felt visiting that theatre again after being absent for a long while. As an aside, I will state that some of the people I’ve met here in this town are huge fans of the Star Wars franchise, and most of them were not born when the first film premiered. When I revealed that I was there during its opening week, there was a plethora of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from everyone. That’s pretty cool. The loss of that dome is akin to the loss of the Raven. Believe it. My love for the dome is analogous to my love for Her. Believe that one, too.
I don’t believe there was a single catalyst at any point in the past. My love for the industry had to have been born of a combination of situations, two of which are above. There is more, too, such as when I returned from the Midwest and tried to write a screenplay, later using my dad’s 8mm video camera for experiments. Ah... Something else just popped into my brain, but not from the past. A recent realization that one of my favorite directors had felt as I did when he was young and fascinated by films. Later, however, our lives did not follow similar paths. He chased the dream and achieved it, whereas I chased after answers to questions that still plague me to this very moment. Marvelous. I cried at the end of one particular movie not long ago and that fucking realization was the reason. I really didn’t need that, but the fault is mine because I know full well what will happen to me if I view certain films from the past. Anyway, the realization hit me upside the head pretty bad, mostly due to the fact that I had forgotten such a story over a long period of time. The end of the film in question is a nod to his favorite place in the world, and mine as well. It is also an enormous homage to the industry in general, and the process of creating films in particular. Yes, all of that is inside the story. His creation shot me back in time to the summer when I watched all that media coverage of ‘Jurassic Park’ and other premieres and became completely enamored by every single fucking aspect of it. The film is also a problem for me because I can’t watch without losing my shit for a while and then walking around the house while going on a tirade about where I am versus where I always dreamed of residing (and I am not referring to a fucking town). I have to get away from this for a while and begin some housework. You probably already know that I will return to the keyboard shortly with a fatass cocktail. No shit, huh? And so it is. While cleaning the kitchen, I calculated that my description of the dome should have been tensed in the past rather than the present. It is there, albeit nothing but a hollow structure is all that remains of the once famous, beautiful and wondrous place that transported me and many others to far-off, fantastic places for five decades. I won’t even begin with the fucking parking lot antics. I’ve gone into that stuff before. Monday morning and I am pleased to be awake after a fairly frightening and unnerving dream. Ugh. I don’t know where the imagery came from, but I didn’t like it one bit. I wouldn’t really call it a nightmare, though, because the situation was not overly scary. Perhaps the movies are messing with my brain during the evening. Yep... I went straight back to the source of much of this discontentment over the past, the same three films that came along just after I watched one of the most damaging feature films ever. A story within a story is what comes to mind, although it’s actually a bit different than such a simple idea. Whatever it is, my head and heart end up smashed to bits by the time the end credits finish crawling up the screen and I gaze at the beautiful logos that have stirred me to the core for many years. Some of them have been displayed here after captures and I will probably continue the process if something comes along that aligns with my taste. Not only the logos, either. The manner in which the film was crafted – as many ‘practical’ effects as possible as opposed to CGI, just like the other one from 2019, the same year – carried within a ‘love letter’ to the entire industry in general, and Hollywood in particular. The entire sequence of events over which I began to gush quickly became very important to the way I feel about the entire process of filmmaking. Too bad I am not involved in the fucking thing. Splendid. My feelings continue to spiral since watching the first documentary the other day, and this morning is no different than the rest... I am very displeased with the past. Some of it, anyway. There are a few periods that mean more to me than most people. I can’t do anything about this mood right now. I just have to lump it, I guess. The decision to watch one of the films yesterday was entirely mine. Of course, knowing in advance that I will end up very sad doesn’t help, but given the choice to see or not see, learn or otherwise; I’ll watch every fucking time. That is reflected by my feelings of either having nothing at all to do with those beautiful processes, or following along out of sheer love and appreciation. That is an unavoidable decision at times. I’d rather sit here sad and in pain than miss out on what those individuals broke their backs for in order to entertain us. Yesterday was ok for the most part. All the business was completed prior to relaxing on the sofa (except for the game, which turned to shit... Heh), and I took care of dinner preparations in good time. Today will likely follow along the same path. This is pretty much all I have anymore, hence the need to go back in time to when I may have actually been happy. Whether or not I knew as much is anyone’s guess, but looking back helps me organize some of the driving forces that keep me drawing breath these days, and the industry is one of the most powerful. I find it fascinating that though everything seemed to hit a high point after heading to the Midwest, the summer just prior to moving represents the first time I was ever exposed to a shitload of ‘behind the scenes’ material. All of the years prior to having the ability to tune those odd channels from a satellite were very limited with regard to any decent exposure inside filmmaking. There were few resources beyond that of television, unlike today. Standing there watching the daily broadcasts that covered the industry was amazing and my eyes were about as wide as possible. Most of the time there was very little work for me because few people even stopped at the shop. As a CB and audio installer, there was nothing for me to do aside from watching television along with one of the store owners. The slow days allowed me plenty of time for absorbing the wonder and beauty that played a tune for my heart. ‘Jurassic Park’ actually went into wide release on June 11th, 1993, and that means I can calculate working at the shop during the months leading up to that date. I was still working there when I went to see the film with two family members. I have scattered memories of the glowing years because pinpointing certain events after more than three decades is very difficult. The CB shop is one of those I can actually identify on the calendar. And I don’t even know if the true dates are very important anymore. What carries the most significance for me right now is learning what pushed me to feel this way about the film industry. The theatre was a huge influence, of course, although much of my time spent there in full appreciation of the venue’s importance was after returning from the Midwest as opposed to before leaving the state. All of this shit may point to the summer at the CB shop and my related wonder at seeing the industry from the other side as the main reason for such emotional reactions to film. Whatever the case, the summer of 1993 is one of the most cherished memories inside me and has been for many years. The film in question, as well. During the afterglow, I had the JP score in my car and listened while commuting. Each occurrence of the main theme caused my heart to swell. John Williams was not nominated for an oscar for ‘Jurassic Park’ that year, but he did win for ‘Schindler’s List’, and rightly so. Just a thought. Anyway, the glowing years are precious to me for several reasons, and the trailing end of that period is now toward the top of the list. The wonder of the film industry may be the only aspect of life with enough power to shove my obsession to the rear at times. Unbelievable. I have not visited a theatre of any kind for more than five years because I have feared the emotional upheaval may cause more harm than good. At the 2020 Oscars, Margot Robbie referred to the theatre as ‘the most exciting place in the world’. It was as such for me, and over time that image faded due to factors beyond my control. Digital cinema, for example, was a push that irritated the hell out of me because the recording and screening processes changed from art forms to memory and data processing. I’m sorry, but Lucas’ point of film being a ‘19th century invention; something that needs to retire [sic’ was way off the mark. Art should never be abandoned in any form, and that statement is coming from a conventional person rather than some hippy-ish, pot-infused yogurt and spinach-juice consuming electric car driver. Are people still painting on canvas? Why didn’t they switch to a digitized touch screen connected to a computer? You know why... It is art, just like film. It is a tangible medium which is tender, touchy and temperamental, yet beautiful at the same time. Like analog audio, it is ‘continuous’, yet few seem to actually care anymore. Well, the theatre is too different now than in the past and I don’t think I’d react well to seeing a digital projection of something that should have been shot on film in the first fucking place. My two cents often bloats up and outward to millions of dollars, but at least sometimes I am correct. Wait... What? Correct? Wasn’t I expressing an opinion? YOU make the call. At some point I need to abandon this typing and do some housework. Damn. The entry is not wavering as much as I had expected at the beginning, and sometimes when I have tons of thoughts, the housework must wait until I record them. Kerry is stunning right now. Fuck. Film or obsession? I don’t fucking know anymore, but the industry is key for the moment.
Later, the same day. I finished the usual morning stuff and poured myself a fat cocktail to calm my insides while thinking about all this shit that is gone from my life. There is so much more that I don’t know how long the damned entry will be in a few days, but I am overly compelled to try describing my feelings regarding something embedded so deep in my heart. Once my drink is consumed, I may or may not go further around the house, but right now I just don’t know how I will feel. There is much to convey. I honestly hope I am doing this for good reason. I need to search the IDE for any mention of an event from the Midwest period that is as clear in my mind as the day it took place. Along such lines, there is another story related to being closer to film than I had ever thought possible. During the early part of the afterglow, my dad and I visited the cinema to watch a film. Several visits back then, actually, but one stands out because I had been so enamored with the process of stories playing out on the big screen. We were early due to my need to spend as much time in the theatre atmosphere as possible. Having some extra minutes prior to taking our seats, I had the idea to request a little conversation with the manager. I asked if we could visit the projection room. After a safety spiel and some very pointed words regarding ‘quiet’ and ‘touching’, he relented and led us up the stairs to a very long, rectangular space that served all of the screens. One room. Upon entering, we remained quiet and when I had questions, everything was whispered. Standing before me, there were no less than ten Xetron projectors, each pointing slightly downward to small windows at the rear of each auditorium. Next to each unit was a pair of large platters rather than reels. The films arrived in twenty-minute sections and were then spliced together to form one complete section. The film was pulled from the inner part of the top platter, through looms that led it into the top of the projector, and then back across to the lower platter where it rolled up from the center out. Once complete, the process was reversed using a greater number of looms to lead the film through the projector and back to the top platter. It was amazing, and the manager explained some of the steps involved. He also led us close enough to the nearest projector to explain the relationship between each frame, the sprocket holes and the way the audio was encoded into the film itself. I could see the sound processing equipment that was built into the body of the massive projector, as well. The entire scene was fucking amazing and I will never forget his willingness to allow us entry to that room, one full of sheer value. I am not referring to only the roughly $100k cost of each projector, but the reels of film themselves which carried an even higher cost just to RENT from the studio. Unbelievable. Upon returning to the lobby, I regaled the manager – who was a huge fan of film just like myself – with the tale of seeing a 70mm movie while I lived in Michigan, and the unreal opportunity to stand in an 80-year old projection room with three units that each carried 20-minute reels of film. They were huge. He loved my story and there is much more to it, but I am not going to go into the tale until I ensure I haven’t described it here in the past. Hmm... After searching for some key terms, I don’t believe I’ve ever told that story on the site. Interesting. Anyway, once we shook hands (firmly, for sure) with the manager, it was off to the snack bar and then our seats. I can’t recall what movie we were there to watch, however I do know that whatever was the title it took a back seat to the projection room. At one point some weeks later, I actually considered seeking employment at a classic theatre just to handle the film itself and, in at least one rather distant fashion, be involved in a part of the industry. I never went further with the idea, though. Life got in the way, as it is loath to do. I can’t forget the sight of an enormous Xetron projector and all of the related functioning equipment connected therein. Beautiful; stirring; wondrous. Only trains carry similar feelings. Not my obsession. Film and trains. Why do I say as much? Because neither would ever betray me. Another story? Why not? This one means more to me than actual living, breathing people. I don’t recall the year. I lived in the Midwest for a short time, so the event took place somewhere between the middle of 1994 and the latter half of 1995. That will have to be close enough. I wish I had a ticket stub. Whatever. For months while driving into Saginaw from Reese – roughly ten minutes or so – the typical route took me through the old section of their downtown area. On the right-hand side of the main drag was the Temple Theater, and I gazed at the marquee every time the car passed by. The theatre ran older films, mostly ‘classics’, as opposed to anything new thanks to the massive theatre at the opposite end of town. I always noticed the title of whatever was on the marquee just in case they ran across something I wanted to see. The theatre was very old and still appeared as it did during the heyday of the studio system, complete with an organ which rose from below the orchestra pit. The screen was enormous, as well, much like many of the art-deco theatres that used to be found in most large cities. I don’t know the dimensions. The projection room housed three huge, WWII-era beasts that used arc lamps for sending the negative image across nearly 200 feet to the screen. Yes, arc lamps. The projectors were capable of threading both 35mm and 70mm film. I only visited the Temple Theater once while living in that area. Once. Oh, but the occasion was so amazing and stirring that I would never forget. Now we need a little bit of backstory. While living in Michigan, I quickly became enamored with any movie released on VHS that was presented in its original aspect ratio, which is to say the width-to-height relationship of a frame of film. Without going into the technical aspects or differing film ratios, I’ll say that televisions produced during that era contained the same screen ratio that was developed decades earlier. The ratio was 1.33:1. The result was a picture whose width was a bit more than its height, or a slight rectangle. Theatres typically projected films that were sized between 1.85:1 and 2.39:1 (or in some rare cases, 2.35:1). The wide image in theatres exemplified the dramatic difference between television and film and provided a much more panoramic vision than was available at home. When movies were displayed on a television at their original aspect ratio, the process was referred to as ‘letterboxing’, and the image was a very different shape. Think of a rectangle inside a square, more or less. Some viewers felt that the black bars at the top and bottom meant part of the image was cut off, when the opposite was actually true. A rectangle will not fit in a square without some adjustment. All this information may fall on deaf ears nowadays because televisions are all the same. I’ll avoid the idea of HD programming being produced at an aspect ratio of 1.77:1. Whatever. No one gives half a shit anymore. The point is that watching a movie on a television that had been intended to be projected in a theatre meant loss of picture, be it via size reduction or ‘cropping’ the image to fit the screen. My love for the cinema dictated that I seek a way of reproducing the same aspect ratio as that which the film was shot. I rented some titles and always sought a ‘director’s cut’ or some other special edition that honored the intent of the filmmaker both in content and aspect ratio. Prior to the release of the disc set, there was no home media version of the film in question that was presented at 2.35:1. In fact, nearly all home video was produced to fit the typical television screen, yet some directors actually dictated that their films were released on videotape with no modifications. After studying about the different processes and display parameters, I quickly learned that the medium of choice was a disc (this was years before the DVD was in wide release), yet I had no laserdisc player or software. Being a fucking nutcase about film, I began to collect certain titles that were released as special editions in the hopes of being able to play them at home some time in the future as they were intended to be viewed. I spent an inordinate amount of money on laserdiscs without the technology to watch them. Yes, I was out of balance. In the interest of avoiding too much boring information here, I’ll reveal the movie in question: It was ‘The Abyss’ from 1989. Unfortunately, more preamble is again necessary. And I'll have to add an image because the aspect ratio business can be confusing.
The top represents the older standard television with each aspect ratio increasing down the image for reference. The only way to fit a rectangle into a square is either chopping off the left and right edges, or shrinking it to match the width. That's that. Film is different than broadcast television and has been for many decades. So, I watched that highly anticipated movie in a local theatre shortly after it was released. ‘The Abyss’ was a watershed moment in film history because of the practical and digital effects. The story and visuals were amazing and the film was very popular. Well, while shopping around in the disc aisle at my favorite movie store, I ran across a special edition of the film that was not only in a widescreen presentation, but had been lengthened by way of the director adding back into the film in excess of 30 minutes of material that had been removed in order to shorten the story enough for the studio to agree to a release. The box set of discs also included a booklet which outlined the changes in great detail as the additions had actually altered one of the main premises of the movie. When the studio directed the filmmakers to cut sections of the movie, they had to go all the way through the nearly three-hour run time and chop anything that made reference to any other part that had been cut out. The process dropped the running time of the film from 2h 51m all the way down to 2h 20m for theatrical release. I purchased the box set – again, despite no hardware for playing the discs – for a hefty price and cherished it. The version in question was released in April of 1993 and I was unable to watch my discs for nearly three years, but there was an event that took place in between those periods which caught me off-guard. Thinking of that time still makes my heart leap to this very day. I should point out that some people are not going to understand my feelings toward the film industry and this story, and that is just fine. The event took place nonetheless.
As I drove into the city along the typical route one morning, my partner noticed the Temple Theatre’s marquee had changed from previous weeks. I stopped the car and read everything: ‘The Abyss 1989 full-length and in 70mm’. Two lines below that: ‘This weekend only’. Well, that was that. I had to attend. The clincher is the idea that I had never seen the full-length version of the movie on film, and yet owned the discs. I would be seeing the director’s cut for the first time not only on film, but in a rare form... 70mm. I decided the opportunity was important enough for us to arrive early, and my partner suggested that I bring along the booklet from the laserdisc box that outlined all of the changes. Good idea, that one. When the night finally arrived, we did indeed get there early and I was fucking floored to find others wandering the lobby and a few actually carried the SAME BOOKLET from the home video version of the movie. No, I am not kidding. We discussed different aspects of the film and the story, and eventually made our way into the auditorium, which I had never visited before that night. Gorgeous. I immediately climbed the steps to the balcony and continued all the way up to the little (cramped) projection room and asked permission to enter. Two much older gentlemen invited me inside to see everything and proceeded to explain the origins of the projectors and the complete operation of the arc lamp system. I was wide-eyed like never before. The film was right there – three 20-minute reels already on the projectors, and six more awaiting loading. I was asked to avoid touching the film or canisters because the theatre paid in excess of $7000 to have the film shipped and insured from Chicago. The value of the 70mm film in its entirety was estimated by them to be more than half a million dollars, hence the no-touching. They stated they had been quite lucky to be allowed to show the film at all, let alone the full-length version on 70mm. I shook hands, thanked them profusely, and returned to my seat. I sat and gazed at the 70-plus-foot screen that was being lit from just under two hundred feet away and watched the entire production play out for the first time. That’s my story, and it is one of the reasons I feel the way I do not only regarding the past, but the future of filmmaking as well. Film projection is one gaze. You can guess the other. I can’t truly convey the feelings involved in that story because what’s in my heart may not exist in anyone who may run across this material. That’s a nice thought. I will say that the sequence of events as it played out was one of the most heartwarming parts of my life, sad as that might sound. I loved it, and still do. The fact that I was so goo-ga over seeing the full-width version of certain movies and then secured media that I had no way of reproducing is just one aspect of the whole affair. The kicker was that despite my lack of hardware to play the discs, I ended up seeing the uncut version of the movie on actual FILM prior to ever having access to a Laserdisc machine. The experience was unexpected and completely unbelievable; a chance encounter with the theatre at the proper time. I have no idea of whether or not my story will mean anything to anyone else, but it solidified my feelings toward the film industry in a way I could not have imagined prior to seeing the marquee that morning. I will say something that most people would find interesting, and that is the fact that the tickets were $3 and the popcorn was priced the same. Compare that shit to the present. Tuesday morning arrived and I drove to the City. Most of the ride was fairly smooth for a weekday. The only rub was a jogger on Franklin Street that pulled my eyes out of their sockets. I saw her again on the return trip, believe it or not, as she walked in the opposite direction one block to the west. Unreal, that form... Bouncing ponytail; bouncing breasts; pants that provided a clear view of her beautiful lines. She caught me upside the head like so many others. The City is tough sometimes. Upon arriving home, I poured some coffee and typed out the rest of my story. Now I have the rest of the day for my usual business and then whatever else seems best. The inside of my head is caught between dreams of the film industry and visions in full-motion video of that girl jogging up the hill. Damn. I’ll be escaping the clutches of the IDE soon to care for the house. Yesterday I accomplished quite a bit in cleaning the living room floor and windows. As for today, I may be too far down the rabbit hole to do as much. To my right, the gangsters are again gracing the display. The series with Kerry ended yesterday morning. Now I can gaze at my reference standard love in the entire universe. Splendid. I think the trip next month is off. Well, next week. Seven days from now is when I would be leaving very early in the morning to clear the entire area prior to most people heading to work. Most of a day of driving, one day to look around and visit the exhibit, and then another day of driving. As I said, I believe it’s off. This is good because I’d be exposed to far more than I care to see and being in close proximity to film studios without the time to take a few tours would hurt. Remaining home is probably the best idea, the next possible road trip being in four months around the time of my birthday. At least then I can dictate the destinations. Better than nothing. I’ve been dreaming of touring Paramount for years. The timing has to be right so there is no hurry, less driving, and more places to visit on tap. A trip like that – just as most that I envision and try to plan – would be very cost prohibitive. The last major road trip was in 2018 during the week of my birthday, and that entire journey is something I’ll never forget. It was amazing. I’ll have to consider options for January. Now may be the time to come up with something that can lift me for a while. Yesterday afternoon I found myself again watching one of the documentaries that follows the eighth installment of the Star Wars series. The material is quite extensive because the documentary crew was on hand since the idea was conceived and followed along all the way to the actual premiere. Every step of the filmmaking process is featured. The running time of the supplementary material exceeds three hours and I fully intend to watch every fucking second. I believe I was less than an hour into it when dinner time rolled around yesterday. I’ll be back there watching again very soon because I am a fucking basket case. The process is bad for me and I do it anyway, much like occasionally watching a few select films that I know will cripple my ability to move forward in life. The need to see as much as possible likely dates all the way back to the end of the glow when I had access to channels otherwise unavailable to me. The satellite systems for entertainment were superior to typical cable television, and even in these late days still proves the best option. Think about it for a minute... Network television broadcasts are completely free over the air. Viewing through a wired cable provider costs money even though the air broadcasts are paid via network advertisements. So, the viewer pays for content that has already been paid for via ads. There you go. Ceasing the cable or modern satellite programming in favor of streaming media can reduce the cost, although as time passes, the different channels are slowly combining into ‘bundles’, meaning that very soon the cost of the streaming media will equal that of the cable subscription people wanted to shut off in the first place. During the summer of which I’ve spoken, the dishes on the canopy were of the old variety; framed mesh with a feedhorn for reception and a two-axis system for switching satellites. There were 18 birds in orbit and 24 channels per bird, most of which were tuned automatically by way of a 'polarotor', or a system designed to allow the dish to change position via commands from the receiver. As of this moment, I have no idea if those birds are still in operation considering the plethora of newer technology on much higher frequency bands that has taken over the world’s base of TVRO entertainment. The point of all this shit is that while I was at work, I had access to channels that were a part of a very expensive cable package. The satellite television providers had more options thirty fucking years ago than the present day, meaning if someone moved here from a foreign country and wanted to watch a broadcast from home, they could subscribe to a single channel rather than opting for a large package that doubtless carried tons of unwanted broadcasts. The CB shop was a dealer for those dishes and subscriptions. We had five birds to choose from and all 24 channels sent by each. I only watched one most of the time, and after seeing all of the background information on filmmaking, my need to be involved in the industry ballooned by a dramatic degree. The increase may have been an exponent. I don’t even believe I knew anyone that subscribed to some of the more obscure, industry-related programming. Watching at work was something I will never forget. What a fuckin’ tirade. I just happen to feel strongly about the advancement of technology and the way everything eventually becomes ‘generic’, such as a ton of very handy, very advanced electronic devices disappearing from the world because they were all rolled into a little rectangle that does everything. Something just came to mind...
I can keep the cinema ‘dream’ alive by way of altering the video system in this little house. My current television is close to six years old and I’ve been seeing an increasing number of bright spots toward the bottom of the display throughout the past year or so. The LED panel is slowly degrading, as is the norm for a television of that age. My neighbor and I have been pondering replacement units that utilize OLED technology as opposed to the standard of LED because of the former’s ability to extend blackness and allow fast action to be displayed much more smoothly. As the video technology advances, however, so do prices. I wanted to opt for something with more longevity, hence my recent research into using a projector and screen as opposed to a television. Well, I’ve researched the idea and the cost is no longer an issue. An OLED television just a touch larger than the one currently hanging in my living room is somewhere in the neighborhood of $1400. If I change the system and install a fixed screen and projector, the price tag would be closer to $2k; not that much of a difference when you consider that the screen would not degrade at all over time. Proper care could keep it bright and sharp for decades. The only variable becomes the projector itself, which could be changed as necessary after four to five years or so. The one consideration that has me concerned is the fact that the smallest fixed screen from one of the best manufacturers is 77 inches when measured diagonally (the standard). That is fucking huge when held against a television I’ve been watching for almost six years that measures 58 inches diagonally. The upside, which pretty much squashes all of the downsides, is that when the screen is not lit by a projector, it appears as nothing more than a white rectangle on the wall surrounded by a neutral-colored frame as opposed to a big, black rectangle that protrudes much further from the surface (I am talking myself into a new system as I type these words). While I can admit that the television is on for most of the time that I’m home, the idea of something much less intrusive mounted on the wall during those times when it is not active has become very appealing. Combine that last thought with having what can be described as a small movie theatre inside the house and the solution becomes quite clear. For the time being, I will avoid trying to describe a 2.35:1 constant-height system. You don’t want to know. That idea would have been wonderful when I lived in the valley because of the layout of the living room and master bedroom. Alas, I did not have the chance to build the fucking thing. Wednesday is apparent on the calendar. Coffee. Gangsters, for whatever reason, are over to the right. This morning’s business was of the early variety, meaning I have lots of time to think prior to engaging in anything else. This is good. Well, it’s about as good as my life gets anymore. That’s pathetic. At least the free time is still welcomed. As much as my brain has been going back in time to the CB shop days, I am going to remain close to this machine each day just in case something comes along that I’ve not recalled before. That period was very important. IS very important, actually. The industry train is going to keep running until I am void of further information. I have clues as to a possible major catalyst, yet nothing solid. The summer of ‘93 was huge, though. So was the dome, even way back in 1989, which represents the first time I visited that theatre since high school. I think it was, anyway. The ensuing years found me there much more often. I’ve already gone into the afterglow and the beginning of the aughts when there was a following at that theatre unlike any other time. Perhaps my fascination is a combination of the dome and the summer of ‘93. They sort of ran together. Cocktail time. I took care of the usual business a bit earlier than most days because my head began to descend and I had to stop it right quick (or else). I can’t have that shit today. My work on this entry is very important; more than other concerns. I will not be derailed by looming imagery and memories of being right in the fucking middle of what I needed. With everything gone, the focus is more important than ever, especially when it concerns the industry and my understanding of how and why it became such a draw within my life. I have to relocate this damned computer tower at some point. The office is beginning to irritate me. The most likely reason I've not addressed this room for a long while is motivation. I am having a very difficult time caring about anything these days. The situation in the holy land has become infinitely more concerning since yesterday. The conflict has widened and I am worried that everything will worsen long before any possible easing of tensions and violence. I had thought the most prominent world leaders had been the most hard-headed, but the truth is the fucking middle east takes the cake. Everyone wants to fight everyone else, and each group seems to have God on its side. After centuries of the same shit, no one seems to learn a fucking thing. I am going to keep one ear to the world news for the duration just in case. As an aside, I must say that the holy land is an area more beautiful than I could have imagined, ancient unlike most of the world, and extremely important to a good portion of the global population, myself included. Once something ancient is destroyed, the beauty and wonder can never be recreated. I wish I could head over there and smack everyone upside the head to see if they can find reason. Eh... No one has that much power. Having God on your side is probably pretty damned compelling. I am sitting here in the quiet while looking out at the hills, and on the other side of the world things are nearly as bad as they can get. Should I make a sign and stand on the shoulder of the highway? That type of idea didn’t go so well for all of the protesters that blocked freeways and bridges earlier this year. I hope they now realize that nothing can be done. Ugh. I hate this fucking shit. I salute their convictions. I really do. I don’t agree with the methods, but passion at that level can’t be denied. Another aside... The upcoming election has been blown up beyond all rational explanation by the media and every other fucking person, but to me it is inconsequential. If I was a billionaire, I couldn’t buy enough ‘caring’ with every cent. Politics in this country has become so fucking stupid that I have to avoid the topic for fear of wearing out my favorite keyboard. The outcome may or may not affect the conflict over there in the beautiful holy land, although there is really no way to know for sure. We have all these different parties and each year only two of them seem to matter to the bulk of the dipshits living here. Wow... I believe I just had an epiphany: I can’t fucking stand the way the world operates and there is nothing anyone can do about it. Good fucking luck, shitbrains. Maybe when the ballot arrives I’ll write myself in. Yay! Eh... I’ve done that before. Never mind. The little one-sentence interludes can be quite entertaining, don’t you think? Here is another: Building the 4355s would be so expensive that I could actually purchase a pair of extremely large and very sensitive monitors for less than half as much. Isn’t that peachy? The process of actually building the 4355s would equal the journey, however I don’t know if I have that much left inside me. I just don’t see it right now. I would love to see and hear those monsters. Alas... My abilities continue to diminish as the days disappear under the massive trucks beneath the train that is life. Hmm... That’s much more than one sentence. Heh. The whiskey has loosened me a bit. This feels liberating. Will today be one of those that finds me with a second drink before lunch? God forbid. Father 'sleepover' is a schnorrer. Is there any significance to Thursday? Thankfully, yesterday did not turn into a pile of shit. I did not allow that to happen despite being in a very down mood. By late afternoon, I was in tears (again) due to one of the documentaries. I’ve gone through three of them, went back to the second, and then watched the third film in its entirety. Following the film itself is the supplementary material, so I let it roll for a while and ended up in the pit of despair. My head keeps traveling back to the early aughts when there was a documentary crew at the ballistics range. That was the first or second during my tenure. I loved all of it. The opportunity to make a change was never greater than during that day. Well, the ensuing months were the same. I had spoken to the sound engineer, who was very accommodating with my questions and such. He was very nice and I tried not to push. Oh, well... That went nowhere, yet the situation still comes to mind each time I see production actually in progress. This will probably not change anytime soon. The documentaries and other material that follow each film are extensive and I have barely watched a third of the entire series. I like seeing the details of how certain aspects of the films were created and shot. The information is fascinating to me. I don’t know how others may feel. Last night was pretty mellow thanks to being in such a somber state during and after dinner. The mood continues this morning as I sip coffee. The more I think about that time, the more I go further back to the CB shop, and I am not referring to the CD changer girl. She is outside all this other shit. I saw her twice in the space of a week which was wonderful, however the sheer power of being privileged enough to watch those amazing programs on satellite television takes the cake over the girl, by far. She was something to see, too. Obsession versus love; the latter will prevail every fucking time. Thursday may be completely meaningless. I’ll go through the motions like every day, take care of some housework and laundry, and then probably fall down again while not knowing how to proceed. Sooner or later, such a feeling always occurs. There is simply too much missing these days.
I believe the documentaries that I’ve been watching bring me back to the exposure to background information that I soaked up while at the shop. Prior to working there, my only experience with TVRO was the occasional visit to either my great uncle’s house or one other location that was the home of my friend’s dad. Both had the very large, older dishes and receivers that allowed for viewing of media directly from the feeds, such as a live sporting event. My friend’s dad used to show off the fact that while watching a football game, for example, when typical broadcast networks cut to commercials, the feed that came directly off a satellite continued to receive information straight from the editing console, meaning the cameras around the stadium were active the entire time. The channels we watched (one in particular) at the CB shop were from subscriptions, so the advertisements came along just like any other television. Still, the experience ‘felt’ different due to having access to programming that was otherwise unavailable to me. Watching such media was quite compelling. Like the system at the home I mentioned, just the feeling of knowing everything was entirely different kept my eyes wide, not to mention anything related to the television and film industries. I was mostly glued to the marketing campaign and other information related to the release of ‘Jurassic Park’, in part due to both having become pervasive thanks to such a high-profile summer film. To this very day, the movie is considered one of the greatest ever made, and a watershed event in the history of the technical aspects of filmmaking. I was a witness to some of the background thanks to being able to watch the satellite feed during the period leading up to the film’s release. I had never been exposed to anything even close to that level of coverage. By the time we left the state some months later, my head was awash with every single aspect of filmmaking. Watching the final documentary regarding the ninth film in the Star Wars universe brought me back to the summer of 1993 with great force. Hmm... ‘Force’. Very interesting word choice. I ended up feeling a combination of fascination, appreciation and sadness. The latter eventually took over my afternoon and evening. Tears; tissue; feelings of loss and regret. I have to watch, though. I can’t fucking help it. The process will most likely continue later today because I am a glutton for punishment. At least I don't have to leave the house until tomorrow morning. Better than nothing, I suppose. I failed to mention one detail of the aspect ratio image above. The idea is to look at the shape and ratio of the top example and then carry the left and right sides (the vertical lines) straight down through the rest in order to see just how much of the film frame would be missing on a 1.33:1 television. Even with a newer model, there is still some loss beginning with 1.85:1 and heading further down the image. I hope that makes sense. Whatever. None of this matters to anyone but me. My coffee is waning. Work time is here. And... Done. I also slid the queen mattress into the big bag and rolled it all the way into the shed. Ugh. I’ve been procrastinating about moving that damned thing since the shed was built. Now that it’s out of the spare bedroom, I can go further with cleaning and improving the configuration. Not bad. I also took care of the daily routine. I need to relax for a while. The requisite glass of booze is here on the table. I had to switch off the gangsters again because of the fucking glitching bullshit that I can’t abide anymore. Prior to leaving the computer when the coffee came to an end, the program was running just fine. I don’t get it. Whatever. Bigger fish. Or, different fish. My obsession with certain mathematical and physical aspects of female beauty is not entirely my fault. There have been other factors – some which permanently altered the way I live and perceive society – that I’ve laid out on the site for years. As for my overly depressed and saddened state regarding the film industry, I often fully blame myself. The truth is that the two shit situations may have created a pattern of fear inside that ended up holding back opportunities which could have been very good for me. The entire shitaree is not very pleasant to consider anymore. I keep trying, though. No idea why. I can’t go back in time and walk through a door that no longer exists. The main issue is that I can never know if the idea would have been what I needed. After becoming absolutely enamored with the film industry a full decade prior to the big opportunity, one may have thought that taking a chance would have been an absolute lock, as it were, and something with the power to help me live life more fully. Nope. I was afraid. Some years later, such as toward the trailing end of my life in the valley, I felt that I was too old to break into positions geared toward young people. Moreover, I saw the industry changing – or, at least, my perception of it after being exposed to a few facts – and began to believe that any part in the modern version of movie making would have been very dissatisfying, or possibly disheartening enough to force me out with a changed opinion of something that I had loved deeply for decades. Another idea that became swept away by fear. Is there any significance to Friday? I doubt it. Yesterday turned out to be quite productive, although as is the custom of late, by the afternoon I was watching supplemental material on one of my favorite films. I had never played that disc before and found it both fascinating and depressing at the same time. Marvelous. I worked a little bit more after lunch. That process may or may not continue today because even at this early hour, I can’t see myself pushing much later. I need to pick up a few items at the big produce market on the other side of the hill, too. Sunday will be salad-prep day and I want to make sure everything is in place prior to visiting the festival tomorrow. Yes, I already know being there will be a huge problem for me. That’s a given anymore. I’d like to go to the big hardware store, too. The other day when I ventured over the hill, had lunch in the car and then shopped for some necessities, I actually felt a tiny bit ‘free’ as opposed to my typical emotional condition that hits me each day due to remaining home nearly all of the time. Sometimes fear will dictate whether or not I can roll further from home than the market down the street. I guess that day when I had lunch out something slapped me in the face and I was simply railing against the norm a little bit. That kind of action is rare. Some of this shit came to mind while watching the third documentary (attached to the ninth film; keep up) because I avoided a switch in careers because I was afraid of losing too much that had become very important to me, even if the loss was temporary (there is no way to know). Watching the filmmaking process, I realized that the individuals involved traveled far outside what could be considered their ‘comfort zone’ – and many other films I enjoy place actors, stand-ins and stunt people in crazy situations and very uncomfortable circumstances – yet they were so dedicated to the art being created that there had been zero doubt of what had to be accomplished. I’ve turned into the type of person that feels a trip to the fucking grocery store is difficult. Do you see? I also speak of the festival as if it is some kind of punishment rather than a place with food, drinks and live music. I wish I could pin down exactly how this fucking happened. Anyway, if the rare mood strikes, I might drive over there and do something similar to my trip last week. I don’t know why such ideas became so inflated. A little bit was probably the way everything turned to shit because of the virus, but as for the rest... Christ only knows. I don’t like feeling this way. A week ago Thursday was significant. The rest of the days are shit for the most part, and the thought of breaking away for a little while generates both anticipation and fear. Maybe something will change in the future if I can exert some force. Moving furniture yesterday was something similar; force. I pushed. I can’t predict what today holds for me. The second gaze is difficult to see here. Very difficult. What should I do? The morning business is later today due to a changed schedule. I’ll be into it very soon, though. Afterward, I’ll have to decide which market to visit and see if my brain leads me over to the hardware store near lunchtime. Good or bad as it may be, the last time sure felt interesting for a little while. There is even a tiny possibility that the way I felt twenty-one years ago when I took that hellacious left turn from work returned to my mind for a split-second. Maybe. I can’t be certain because after so many years, I am very different from the person who took that turn. As for my mood during the nine hours between when I made the decision and my arrival at the Luxor, I would say roughly ten percent was worried. The rest? I don’t know... Maybe sort of like a type of power that I had not previously thought possible. There was a touch of excitement because I was alone and did not need to concern myself with the wishes of other people, and a certain level of comfort in knowing that I was about to sink into the only lifestyle I actually ‘needed’ as opposed to those I may have ‘wanted’. Very interesting. Joseph Siravo is on the screen again. I swear to everything holy, I could fucking kiss him for the talent. Fucking awesome, that guy, and God rest his soul. Anyway, a drive over the hill today is not going to leave me feeling the need to exit the state. I may or may not feel a touch of freedom for a couple of hours. That’s it. Time for business.
The day is all mine. Morning stuff is now out of the way; coffee is halfway gone; the house is again quiet. I still don’t know if I am going over the hill today. The hour is early and I have plenty of time to figure everything out. ‘Fuckin albacore around my neck!’ Holy shit, that was funny. Anyway, I’d like to continue in the spare bedroom for a little while and then move a few items to the shed since the larger furniture is all in place. I also need to get the folding wagon out of the shed and drop it in the car for tomorrow. My plan is to arrive early and leave early, unlike last year. Walking the festival route is tiring, especially considering the number of other people doing the same. Am I worried about seeing something special? Always. That’s a given due to experience. The less time on the street, the less chance there is of me falling off the edge of the world because of being absolutely obsessed with a very specific type of beauty. I will say that watching all of the background material related to my favorite movies does push those feelings to the rear for a time. I guess that’s better than nothing. The clock has already passed nine, meaning I’ll have to decide which way to shop later. I’m sure returning home will feel rewarding, like most days. Once the daily routine is out of the way, I shall finalize the plan. The second gaze is probably still not apparent in this essay. Big fucking surprise. Figure it out. Another decision I’ve been avoiding is which of the three big, long-term projects to attempt in the near future; the 4355s, a small machine shop, or a trike. I can’t know which may be the most rewarding. The only fact is that the most expensive would be the trike. I figure somewhere in the neighborhood of 20-30 grand would be required to make it run. The shop is much cheaper, likely topping less than $5k for everything. The downside to that wonderful, compelling idea is the garage would no longer have room for the car. I may not care. As for the monitors, I honestly can’t harbor a guess. The raw materials could be less than a grand, but the cost of the drivers and other electronics can’t really be predicted. If I try to use the OEM components, the dollars could skyrocket, whereas if I proceed like a few other builders, there can be a few aftermarket replacement drivers that would both lower the cost and lend to reliability. I should state that the idea of aftermarket components is not lost on me because the audio and appearance of the cabinets are the most important factors. Perhaps the entire project could be completed at a cost similar to the shop plan. Right now I just don’t know which is best, but I have to fucking start something soon or I’ll lose my shit. Part of the drive to build the monitors is the film industry, believe it or not. Some of the scores contain passages that can test the dynamic range and headroom of amplifiers, let alone the stress on the drivers themselves. The shop and trike ideas have nothing to do with my love for the industry. And there is another factor I need to consider when dreaming of the 4355s, and that is the very likely scenario that not one person on God’s green earth would understand their meaning, history or prowess, nor would they comprehend my need to build in the first place. As I sit here this morning, the 4355s are being pushed to the head of the line because of the industry and my background in the proper reproduction of music. The importance of the monitors is analogous to my stingy nature on the subject of sharing music with other people. I cannot be assured of the context. Marvelous. Without knowing the compositions would be produced in the proper context and through actual audio equipment rather than a fucking phone or some other new technology, I just can’t let music out of my hands in a way so as to feel good about the decision. Such thinking will most likely never be understood by those who know me. Eh... I don’t care. Like I used to say when I built a massive audio system in my little car many years ago, ‘I didn’t build all this shit for others to hear, only myself’. I was often asked why the balance, fade or equalization sounded off from the passenger or back seats. Heh. My music; my car; my blood and sweat. Fuck off. That probably doesn’t come across as even remotely friendly, either. Whatever. I don’t care. I do need to make a decision soon, though. That was the point before I went on yet another fucking tirade. Should I point out the second gaze? YOU make the call. Later. I took care of everything, and as suspected earlier, the decision to drive over the hill was an easy one. I remained close to home by visiting the hardware store and both the pharmacy and market on the return trip. Nothing of note took place, thankfully, and I gathered everything I needed save for one fucking piece of wood. The hardware store was sold to a large company last year and it is still being reconfigured and stocked. I guess I’ll have to go over the hill sometime next week. At least the drainage project is in good shape. I have everything I need to install, connect, and filter the water pump to be ready for the storm season. The gangsters are glitching again and nothing I’ve tried seems to help. I don’t understand the problem. Maybe I’ll try to ignore it and wait for the stream to smooth itself. The industry has not left my head this morning, even while driving and shopping. I did learn something yesterday, and that is the fact that each of the nine movies have additional material to the tune of roughly 3-4 hours each. I’ve only watched three of them. There is much more and I plan to relax later and take in a ton of fascinating stuff. Yes, watching those documentaries and other features depresses the shit out of me and I end up in tears half the time, but the compulsion takes over regardless of my condition. Much like the fucking lines of my life, I need to see everything. At least with regard to the film industry, my life is not at risk if I dive into the information. The lines have come close to killing me. Gaze? Hmm. Yesterday I watched a series of short background ‘extras’ that were included with a three-disc set I purchased a few years ago. Prior to grabbing the bonus disc during the early afternoon, I had never loaded that thing into a DVD player. Not even once. Well, the information is presented beautifully, and I was amazed at the level of physical construction and practical (in-camera) visual effects that were used in order to avoid too much CGI. A day earlier, I was replaying the fourth film in the Star Wars universe and marveled at the massive amount of computer work that went into that production. Personally, I appreciate the effort of practical effects over using CG imagery as a ‘crutch’. There are other ways of looking at the subject, but being my age and having been exposed to the original trilogy in actual theatres, the CG aspects of the prequels do not seem as creative on at least one level. Some stories, such as the one that brings me to tears every time I watch it, were created with the intention of everything being performed on-set rather than with visual effects in post-production. The downside is filming a ‘period’ piece becomes very difficult when trying to recreate a city or other landscape from the past. Buildings; vehicles; costumes... All of it is very expensive and requires both dedication and a hell of a lot of money. The film that I watch on occasion with tears is one in which the writer/director tried his damnedest to shoot everything practically. Alas, a few CG shots were necessary due to the time gradient. That’s perfectly fine because the intention was there and every effort was made to show off the way Hollywood appeared in 1969. As for the first of the prequels I mentioned above, to this very day I feel that much of it could have been shot on set much like the original trilogy. The man who made the decision just happens to be the same who declared film a ‘nineteenth century invention that must be advanced’. Ed Crasnick is fucking awesome. Just a thought. He's so funny. Is there any significance to Saturday? There may be. Today is the festival. Ugh. I’ll have to remain mindful of my surroundings and take everything slowly, I guess. At least the trip that was supposed to be this coming week is out of the question. Canceled. That’s good for one reason. I didn’t want to be close to the studios without touring. I didn’t want to be near a certain section of Hollywood Boulevard, either. Memories of one key film would have crippled me, not to mention that fucking restaurant. In the beginning, I had made a dinner reservation for fear that I may never have another chance to experience that place. That was the first plan to be dropped. Two weeks later, the entire trip is off. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this, although part of me is thinking that something around the time of my birthday might be best. I may have mentioned that already. Anyway, the festival will come and go and then I’ll have Sunday to take care of business and watch the game. I also have to make salads for Monday. I don’t like my time being overly scheduled, but having Sunday between the festival and a dinner uptown is very helpful. As for this morning, I don’t have much time to gather my thoughts. I’m sure I’ll feel plenty happy after arriving back home later. Part of me wishes that time was right now. Eh... I’ve gone to this thing before and came out the other side just fine. Jamie is adorable in this episode. She was really thin in the first season (an eating disorder; the poor girl) and her face followed suit. That made her big, beautiful eyes appear even larger than when she was older. Ooh-fa. I love her so much. Well, I cleaned up a bit and donned some comfortable clothes. I haven’t even stepped near the door yet and I’m already looking forward to being home again after walking around among those people. Yes, I realize there are good people out there. Sometimes they are difficult to see, that’s all. The train leaves in a little while.
The festival came and went. This is the first time I’ve visited that extravaganza in thirteen years without seeing the sun appear at all. Very interesting. There was one woman who stood out beyond rational thought and I had the chance to stare for a few minutes. Other than that, only the damaging dreams came to mind thanks to a fairly large crowd. The booze helped me deal with the sight of a six-foot picturesque gazelle with enough information on display to cripple me for an hour. The damaging dreams came to mind quite often throughout the visit and carried on all the way until leaving the area and stopping by the bar for a little bit. Paulie’s date in this episode is rather disgusting. Just a thought. Six foot gazelle. Very rare in the real world. The damaging dreams sent my thoughts into galaxies that shall not be mentioned here or anywhere else. I need to relax and enjoy the fact that tomorrow is Sunday, there is plenty of time to get back into a normal routine, and I can care for myself as well. I need to remain far away from anything as beautiful and amazing as what I saw this morning. Everything is bad for me. The six-footer is going to haunt me for a little while because I am a fucking basket case. Very rare, that one. Very, very fucking rare in my experience. I need to get away from the IDE for a while. This is not enjoyable right now. Is there any significance to Sunday? Well, I don’t have to go anywhere now that the drive has been completed. Thankfully, there was nothing to see except the requisite cars here and there. The drive was smooth and quick, just the way I like it. My need to be here takes over the second my car exits the driveway and does not let up until I am parked again. As for seeing things in the City (or anywhere else), I’ve had quite enough of that this weekend. At least I can’t recall any dreams related to yesterday. That’s a positive. I can still see that woman and her stretched features, although I have no fucking idea of why the appearance is so fascinating. Maybe those years of watching runway fashion shows had more of an effect than I realized at the time. The models are almost always very tall. Anyway, her height was not the clincher. The fact that she was so slender caught me upside the brain, and that type of thing truly does not happen very often. I am glad there was nothing this morning. I don’t need any more of it. I wish I could remember; I wish I could know why things must be this way. Too many wishes; they are useless anymore. Too much missing; the holes in me run deep. Too much time has passed; it slices me to ribbons. I know not what to do. Perhaps back to the title of this shit. I dove back into the older films again yesterday. When I think of those times during the glowing years when we visited the big domes or other theatres, I recall staying in my seat until the ‘credits crawl’ was complete because I wanted to see every fucking name and role involved in the creation of the film. Jamie’s eyes are huge and I love them. Anyway, I still go through the same practice as thirty-plus years ago whenever watching movies, and most of what I seek is typically toward the end and involves the physical equipment itself. I don’t know why I’m still so fascinated by that stuff. Years later when I visited the second projection room – much more modern than the arc-lamp versions in the Temple – I took in as much as possible because I knew the visit would be both short-lived and rare. That was similar to watching the entertainment channels at the CB shop; I tried to learn and understand as much information as I could. The draw was so powerful, in fact, that most days I hoped no customers would walk in. I didn’t want my viewing time interrupted because nearly all of what I was seeing was unavailable elsewhere without a massive dish and subscriptions. I was in no position to do anything like that. I will say that once we moved across the country and I learned there was no cable television where we lived (very rural area, for sure), I dreamed of installing one of the huge dishes in the backyard. That would have been the best way to see everything I desired. Roughly a year after arriving there, I learned that there was a company that could install a small dish on the roof that received ‘line of sight’ signals from a nearby transmitter, much like a regular cable subscription. It worked very well and I was overjoyed to see some decent television for a change. I was reminded of that system last night while watching part of one of the movies I mentioned. The streaming device has processor and memory limits that can’t be upgraded, meaning the only way to increase its power is replacement. The applications continue to grow in size and the amount of hardware resources required for smooth playback, yet the device sits in a fixed state and can’t be modified. The only option is to use a computer, and I am not ready to build something out there strictly for watching video media because the process can be very touchy. Anyway, the movie glitched every now and then, interrupting the audio for a split-second. One channel (application) has been exhibiting such behavior for weeks, meaning the limits of the device have likely been reached. I have a new model sitting out there waiting to be installed. The existing device lasted three years and I see that as pretty good considering how cheap they are. All of this adds up to the fact that I need to see those films as they were intended, and I am unwilling to deal with any issues regarding playback or audio. The older movies must be respected because they paved the way for most of what is currently produced. Did you find the second gaze? Sunday means business. My coffee is nearly gone, so I’ll have to get a few things out of the way prior to kickoff in just over three hours. We go... And... Done. The preliminary business is finished and I have a head start on the garbage. By kickoff, everything should be in good order because I have a hell of a system for taking care of this little house. Oh, God... Her eyes are so fucking beautiful that sometimes I feel the need to go outside and beat my head against the concrete. The six-foot amazing beauty that I saw yesterday can’t hold a fraction of a candle to my feelings for Jamie. They continue to increase as time passes. Anyway, the time has come for me to relax with a fat cocktail for a little while before continuing around the house. I deserve that much, at least. Maybe. Eh, I don’t know shit anymore. The game is in two hours. Plenty of time. I will return to the film-related emotional turmoil after everything is finished today. As a damaging aside, I’ve been looking at the digital images I shot of ‘Jaime’ back in 2010 and comparing her stance with that of the tall one from yesterday. Judging by the surrounding individuals and her hands, Jaime had to have stood somewhere in the neighborhood of five-ten. I suppose all those models with their stretched features became injected into my head years ago and never went away. Believe me, I’ve seen some fucking stunning, amazing beauties that were anywhere from five even to perhaps five-three or four, and there is no difference with regard to attraction or desire. Height is something I have trouble explaining, much like years ago when I was enamored with long fingers. Whatever. Beauty is subjective and I am a fucking whack job anyway. This drink is delicious. I should be sufficiently lubricated enough to relax my head in a little while. Sunday business will be easier thanks to the alcohol, and whatever that says about me, I don’t give a flying fuck. I do what I need to do in order to survive. This entry is quite convoluted because I can’t focus on anything for very long without becoming highly distracted, usually by something unique, beautiful, or both. I’ve mentioned the search for years and for good reason. It never stops regardless of whatever else may be taking place here or elsewhere in the world. There are two wars raging on the other side of the world, yet my brain cannot absorb information about those terrible situations for very long before... Ah, it’s happening right now because of a woman on the right-hand display. See? There is always something. The essay suffers accordingly. There is nothing I can do about such a condition. Nothing. I am completely fucked. The keyboard pays no mind, nor do my feelings. Nothing changes. Everything worsens, and that includes feeling completely lost due to never taking an exit off the comfort highway out of fear. I shall never know what may have developed. What a mess."
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