I'm at the old Broadcaster offices. I am shooting puppet-related high-definition video for Andy. To illustrate my point, I have provided some high-resolution images, which follow:
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
O spiteful and sour abstractions!
I am temporarily losing it. It happens time to time. Where have I put myself this time?
I think I am in North Hollywood. I can't sleep. I am consumed by hatred. I think I am the only person who's really accountable to anybody for anything. Everybody else is just kind of pretending, I'm afraid. It all seems very serious to me, except that when I look to everybody else they don't appear to share my concern. They phase in and out of reality. Then one moment maybe they are more concerned. I can't tell. What am I concerned about? Then maybe they are less concerned. One moment and then another and another. An inconsistent mathematical theorem, never learned or even memorized, traces invisible tactile synesthesias like plastic draperies over every thought, over every perception, received or transmitted or fed backward, withinward, or otherwise over and over, suffocating the wonder that is the truth of our condition... I am lost and all I know is that I have given far more than I should ever expect to receive. O spiteful and sour abstractions! Shall I compare thee to a bummer's rain? Nay! Just lie! Lay! The sun rises o'er another day! Die! Stay! Go away! The heavens cry, abruptly, and quiet agayne. Ain't that November? Ain't that just what they say? Aye! And sweet, sweet summer such a long ways away...
I think I am in North Hollywood. I can't sleep. I am consumed by hatred. I think I am the only person who's really accountable to anybody for anything. Everybody else is just kind of pretending, I'm afraid. It all seems very serious to me, except that when I look to everybody else they don't appear to share my concern. They phase in and out of reality. Then one moment maybe they are more concerned. I can't tell. What am I concerned about? Then maybe they are less concerned. One moment and then another and another. An inconsistent mathematical theorem, never learned or even memorized, traces invisible tactile synesthesias like plastic draperies over every thought, over every perception, received or transmitted or fed backward, withinward, or otherwise over and over, suffocating the wonder that is the truth of our condition... I am lost and all I know is that I have given far more than I should ever expect to receive. O spiteful and sour abstractions! Shall I compare thee to a bummer's rain? Nay! Just lie! Lay! The sun rises o'er another day! Die! Stay! Go away! The heavens cry, abruptly, and quiet agayne. Ain't that November? Ain't that just what they say? Aye! And sweet, sweet summer such a long ways away...
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Quick Ranch Adoption Update
I am at Justin and Kaisa's house and I am so very happy that Betsy, the hip-twisted cancer case of a dog has come back. Her tumor was removed--it was in an available spot for the vet, and he has judged that she has more quality time left. We're still not sure whether or not her tumor is benign or malignant, but the tumor of the moment is out. She can pee and digest. She seems happy. I am happy.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Wildfire Edition
I'm on a brief disaster retreat from the Ranch. We had a fire burning up Little Tujunga Canyon and yesterday morning I was awoken to the sound of a bullhorn blurping and an official Man recommending residents evacuate. The sound gusted into my window, ghostly, and abruptly disappeared, replaced by ghostly wind gusts. I got up to pee and collect my thoughts. I made mental note of locations of things I thought I would want to take with me. I wasn't particularly worried--just vaguely and sentimentally entertained by the thought of quickly gathering what I'd quickly decided were the most important things in my life. Just surreal. It was like I'd never woken up. It was that sort of frame of reference, there, as I was taking that pee. It was chilly.
I mostly put my notebooks and videotapes in my bag. A pair of pants. I negotiated transport for two computer towers and some harddrives. Another pile of notebooks, some mail and some cash. Last second I go back for a small box of sentimental items. I look up at the bookshelf in the bathroom and I consider grabbing my high school yearbook. It makes me feel really corny, but I kind of force myself to savor the moment. I'm pretty sure I'll be back soon. But it's like discovering a gross face you can make in the mirror and then making yourself do it over and over again. Or watching a good Saved by the Bell episode. You kind of feel gross and good at the same time in the pit of your torso. The blend, ooh, like a gigantic frappie-chino pumpkin-spice peach-colored blendered-baby in a moist, plastic cup. Nothing like an evacuation brings out the contemporary references in a guy like me. Nothing.
Anyway, we have some guests and I'm just kind of putting around, ho-humming and whatnot, keeping the whole thing pretty low-key so nobody gets panicky... I'm fairly optimistic about our chances of return, after all... And I notice the bottle of wine from the night before and so I figure out a way to store the rest of that that really hardly takes up any extra room at all and so I do that. And now I'm feelin' good. Reeeeeal good. Tedd's gonna drive. It's seven-AM in the morning and the sun is just cresting the valley and light is spilling into the cabin. I put on some wool socks my mom sent me. I'm snug in my shoes and I'm eating some firm, cold tofu like candy and then we're out the door, driving up and out of the mountains the back way because the regular way is closed off. And god, it is so beautiful and fresh outside, and so brightly keen, and so exciting and dangerous and free-feeling. We're escaping danger mountain in a worn-out old Saturn that doesn't always run... NPR threatens the edges of consciousness through the mountain static, at low volume beneath our stimulating conversations. Probably about tits and axes and other mountain stuff. Crass--just really crass, repetitive stuff at varying levels of volume.
No, just kidding. I'm sure it was solid gold, most of it. There's debris like sticks and rocks all over, no doubt from the insistent Santa Anna Winds. Those gusts we felt the night before, when we went down into the dry riverbed to soak up some moonbeams--they had surely dislodged much of what we saw. They were also the culprit behind the spread of the wildfires, like a giant spirit-bellows angry at the pace of development in the hills. We would come around a hairpin turn and a gust of wind would rattle the smashed-up front-right corner of the poor little Saturn we drove, chugging and choking to make it back down into the thicker valley air.
And then, around another bend, and then there's the tall downtown buildings in the smoggy distance, and we're descending through watered lawns and a stoplight admits us and then another one and we come to a sleepy stop.
I mostly put my notebooks and videotapes in my bag. A pair of pants. I negotiated transport for two computer towers and some harddrives. Another pile of notebooks, some mail and some cash. Last second I go back for a small box of sentimental items. I look up at the bookshelf in the bathroom and I consider grabbing my high school yearbook. It makes me feel really corny, but I kind of force myself to savor the moment. I'm pretty sure I'll be back soon. But it's like discovering a gross face you can make in the mirror and then making yourself do it over and over again. Or watching a good Saved by the Bell episode. You kind of feel gross and good at the same time in the pit of your torso. The blend, ooh, like a gigantic frappie-chino pumpkin-spice peach-colored blendered-baby in a moist, plastic cup. Nothing like an evacuation brings out the contemporary references in a guy like me. Nothing.
Anyway, we have some guests and I'm just kind of putting around, ho-humming and whatnot, keeping the whole thing pretty low-key so nobody gets panicky... I'm fairly optimistic about our chances of return, after all... And I notice the bottle of wine from the night before and so I figure out a way to store the rest of that that really hardly takes up any extra room at all and so I do that. And now I'm feelin' good. Reeeeeal good. Tedd's gonna drive. It's seven-AM in the morning and the sun is just cresting the valley and light is spilling into the cabin. I put on some wool socks my mom sent me. I'm snug in my shoes and I'm eating some firm, cold tofu like candy and then we're out the door, driving up and out of the mountains the back way because the regular way is closed off. And god, it is so beautiful and fresh outside, and so brightly keen, and so exciting and dangerous and free-feeling. We're escaping danger mountain in a worn-out old Saturn that doesn't always run... NPR threatens the edges of consciousness through the mountain static, at low volume beneath our stimulating conversations. Probably about tits and axes and other mountain stuff. Crass--just really crass, repetitive stuff at varying levels of volume.
No, just kidding. I'm sure it was solid gold, most of it. There's debris like sticks and rocks all over, no doubt from the insistent Santa Anna Winds. Those gusts we felt the night before, when we went down into the dry riverbed to soak up some moonbeams--they had surely dislodged much of what we saw. They were also the culprit behind the spread of the wildfires, like a giant spirit-bellows angry at the pace of development in the hills. We would come around a hairpin turn and a gust of wind would rattle the smashed-up front-right corner of the poor little Saturn we drove, chugging and choking to make it back down into the thicker valley air.
And then, around another bend, and then there's the tall downtown buildings in the smoggy distance, and we're descending through watered lawns and a stoplight admits us and then another one and we come to a sleepy stop.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Friday, July 4, 2008
4th of July...
Hard to describe. I am in an armpit. Unshorn. Flea-bitten. Me--and the
armpit. Maybe I am the flea. There is a swollen lymph-node and it
radiates pain all the way from the heel--the scarred,veiny, calloused scabrous
heel. Always sweating--radiating lead... Metallic discomfort up and
down the right side of the body, it would appear. The body favors this
uncomfortable side by lying on the other, stretching its elbow up and
over its head and back and around and under the two soaked pillows.
That is when I can breathe. Then it brings its arm back down, clutching
tightly at its chest, as if in an effort to protect the painful,
swollen node from the invisible crawling stingers that first afflicted
the heel some hours ago, passing poison up the right side of the body,
terminating in the armpit where I reside, terrified and clutching more
tightly than ever. I am. I am terrified and grasping at the porous,
metal-soaked walls. The chlorinated roots of the scraggly hair all
around me leaves a pungent chalk in my nostrils and around my eyes and
on my grasping limbs. I am hot and cold too often at odd intervals to
know whether I am hot or cold, living or just breathing at odd
intervals, responding to conditions or to the condition of the body I
am struggling to inhabit. How the hell did I get here? How will
I get out? What then?
Hi, I'm Mike Miller. On this, the fourth day of July in the year 2008, my thoughts drift in the direction of escape. Escape from debt. Escape from worry. From social responsibility and anxiety. From empathy. From pain and expectation. Escape from custom. Escape from systems of all kinds. Escape from economics. Escape from routine. Escape from uncertainty. Escape from poverty. Escape from entitlement. Escape from guilt and the fear of failure. Or the fear of success. Or the expectation of success. Or the expectation of entitlement. Or the social responsibility of expectation. Of empathy. Or the routine of anxiety. The economics of anxiety. The uncertainty of debt. The industry of debt. The guilty customs of expecation and pain. The poverty of entitlement...
My heart flutters at this notion of escape from time-to-time. When I am feeling sick and stuck, or sweaty and forlorn. Twisted up with abstract guilt. Pressured and ignored all at once--I'm sure you feel it too, from time-to-time. The kind of feeling makes you want to blow something up or knock something down or throw something up or out or away... Makes you imagine fire and tremors and ripping and caving walls and twisted debris. Kind of feeling makes you imagine drawing lines in or stomping emphatically on dirt. To create an impact or just to feel the impact of creation on yourself. To feel you and gravity and time and debris convolute and constitute and consecrate and reconcentrate... Well, that or it just makes you want to escape. My heart flutters at these notions from time-to-time.
What are we celebrating today?
What are we celebrating that we do not desecrate in every dimension of our feedback-distorted, irradiated proxy-lives?
WhoaA there!
armpit. Maybe I am the flea. There is a swollen lymph-node and it
radiates pain all the way from the heel--the scarred,veiny, calloused scabrous
heel. Always sweating--radiating lead... Metallic discomfort up and
down the right side of the body, it would appear. The body favors this
uncomfortable side by lying on the other, stretching its elbow up and
over its head and back and around and under the two soaked pillows.
That is when I can breathe. Then it brings its arm back down, clutching
tightly at its chest, as if in an effort to protect the painful,
swollen node from the invisible crawling stingers that first afflicted
the heel some hours ago, passing poison up the right side of the body,
terminating in the armpit where I reside, terrified and clutching more
tightly than ever. I am. I am terrified and grasping at the porous,
metal-soaked walls. The chlorinated roots of the scraggly hair all
around me leaves a pungent chalk in my nostrils and around my eyes and
on my grasping limbs. I am hot and cold too often at odd intervals to
know whether I am hot or cold, living or just breathing at odd
intervals, responding to conditions or to the condition of the body I
am struggling to inhabit. How the hell did I get here? How will
I get out? What then?
Hi, I'm Mike Miller. On this, the fourth day of July in the year 2008, my thoughts drift in the direction of escape. Escape from debt. Escape from worry. From social responsibility and anxiety. From empathy. From pain and expectation. Escape from custom. Escape from systems of all kinds. Escape from economics. Escape from routine. Escape from uncertainty. Escape from poverty. Escape from entitlement. Escape from guilt and the fear of failure. Or the fear of success. Or the expectation of success. Or the expectation of entitlement. Or the social responsibility of expectation. Of empathy. Or the routine of anxiety. The economics of anxiety. The uncertainty of debt. The industry of debt. The guilty customs of expecation and pain. The poverty of entitlement...
My heart flutters at this notion of escape from time-to-time. When I am feeling sick and stuck, or sweaty and forlorn. Twisted up with abstract guilt. Pressured and ignored all at once--I'm sure you feel it too, from time-to-time. The kind of feeling makes you want to blow something up or knock something down or throw something up or out or away... Makes you imagine fire and tremors and ripping and caving walls and twisted debris. Kind of feeling makes you imagine drawing lines in or stomping emphatically on dirt. To create an impact or just to feel the impact of creation on yourself. To feel you and gravity and time and debris convolute and constitute and consecrate and reconcentrate... Well, that or it just makes you want to escape. My heart flutters at these notions from time-to-time.
What are we celebrating today?
What are we celebrating that we do not desecrate in every dimension of our feedback-distorted, irradiated proxy-lives?
WhoaA there!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Update Items! Rock'n'Roll! KGB Gambits! Matt Mangs! It's a Blog Bonanza!
Why, hello...?! I didn't see you there...!
Item 1: the term "Widowphiles"
- Tedd has been using this term to address those of you who follow our whimsical mass-mailers that we produce from time to time to highlight important dates and items of agenda. I like it. I would like to note as well that I am a hard-core Widowphile, and have been for some time. Also, noted author Henry James was an Anglophile, but I think, in today's day and age and faced with today's particular set of circumstances, he would be a Widowphile instead.
Item 2: topic for discussion
- Is Karl Rove a KGB mole? Was the fall of Soviet Russia a communist gambit to counter-program or destabilize the American self-image? Who's hubris is whose?
Item 3: fear
- I am afraid. Often, and in the face of an expanding mediasphere that offers a nearly limitless capacity to connect, subdivide, reconnoiter, synthesize, transitivize, sensitivize, and objectivize our ever-widening array of conscious and unconscious metaphor, I say FUCK YOU to those who capitalize on fear by inflating it. So right now I say FUCK Y"O"U. And fuck me. Let's figure this thing out.
Item 4: Thankyou!
- Thankyou ever-so-much to those of you who made it to Crane's Tavern last night and packed that little hallway full of love for our LOUDEST WIDOWS SHOW EVER. It was. My ears this morning were still ringing. That was awesome. I don't think we ought to be playing that loud for a multitude of different reasons, but on that night, in that scenario and in front of you I'd have to say I found the whole thing rather exhilarating. Not rather. Just straight exhilarating.
Item 5: Happy Birthday to Matt Mangs
- Today is Matthew Mangs's 25th birthday. I'm sure many of my readers know Mangs personally, but to those of you who don't, he is a staunch ally and official #1 fan of the Widows. He is also one of Hollywood's brightest film talents and is currently producing a web series called "Mountain Man" that will revolutionize the industry. What do I mean by this? Well, tell me what web series you are mad about right now. No, go ahead, just name them.
...What? I don't think I heard you say anything. Speak up.
Ah-hem! Well, right then, do you see what I mean?
Happy Birthday Mangs. You inspire all of us.
Please consider these five items carefully, choose one, then write a term paper or something. You can also comment. That's one of the fun things about blogs. Okay... Until next time, Widowphiles!
Item 1: the term "Widowphiles"
- Tedd has been using this term to address those of you who follow our whimsical mass-mailers that we produce from time to time to highlight important dates and items of agenda. I like it. I would like to note as well that I am a hard-core Widowphile, and have been for some time. Also, noted author Henry James was an Anglophile, but I think, in today's day and age and faced with today's particular set of circumstances, he would be a Widowphile instead.
Item 2: topic for discussion
- Is Karl Rove a KGB mole? Was the fall of Soviet Russia a communist gambit to counter-program or destabilize the American self-image? Who's hubris is whose?
Item 3: fear
- I am afraid. Often, and in the face of an expanding mediasphere that offers a nearly limitless capacity to connect, subdivide, reconnoiter, synthesize, transitivize, sensitivize, and objectivize our ever-widening array of conscious and unconscious metaphor, I say FUCK YOU to those who capitalize on fear by inflating it. So right now I say FUCK Y"O"U. And fuck me. Let's figure this thing out.
Item 4: Thankyou!
- Thankyou ever-so-much to those of you who made it to Crane's Tavern last night and packed that little hallway full of love for our LOUDEST WIDOWS SHOW EVER. It was. My ears this morning were still ringing. That was awesome. I don't think we ought to be playing that loud for a multitude of different reasons, but on that night, in that scenario and in front of you I'd have to say I found the whole thing rather exhilarating. Not rather. Just straight exhilarating.
Item 5: Happy Birthday to Matt Mangs
- Today is Matthew Mangs's 25th birthday. I'm sure many of my readers know Mangs personally, but to those of you who don't, he is a staunch ally and official #1 fan of the Widows. He is also one of Hollywood's brightest film talents and is currently producing a web series called "Mountain Man" that will revolutionize the industry. What do I mean by this? Well, tell me what web series you are mad about right now. No, go ahead, just name them.
...What? I don't think I heard you say anything. Speak up.
Ah-hem! Well, right then, do you see what I mean?
Happy Birthday Mangs. You inspire all of us.
Please consider these five items carefully, choose one, then write a term paper or something. You can also comment. That's one of the fun things about blogs. Okay... Until next time, Widowphiles!
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
BUSFEST: Music+Love for Mother Earth
Why hellOOO there, info-beasts, literate members of the bourgeoisie, and all the rest of the clamoring classes smashing their glasses between last week's presses with the aid of yesterday's modern fiber-optics!...
Name here's Mike Miller, and have I got a story for you:...--
I'd like to extend my whole-est of heartfelt thanks and congratulations to bravenewbus.org and all the NasBus bus people who just threw one of the greatest Ranch events ever witnessed by this surly old rancher. Busfest '08! Let's see if we can't have ourselves a quick rundown of appropriate facts and figures, yes?:
1) 1 (one) bio-diesel converted school bus that runs on vegetable oil
4) 1 (one) mission: reinvigorate the American Spirit of Ingenuity by taking the concepts of renewable resources and sustainable design to the road, and to the people (to US!)
2) 1 (one) traffic ticket necessitating a fund raiser
3) 1 stage, built from scratch for the first time on Ranch land
8) 9 (eight) musical acts, ranging from piano jazz and funk to rap and rock and roll
5) (triumph of will)²
6) (artwork on display for consumption)³
7) 1 beautiful weather
9) 1 fill-in-the-blank
Were you there? Did you miss it? How was your hair?
Name here's Mike Miller, and have I got a story for you:...--
I'd like to extend my whole-est of heartfelt thanks and congratulations to bravenewbus.org and all the NasBus bus people who just threw one of the greatest Ranch events ever witnessed by this surly old rancher. Busfest '08! Let's see if we can't have ourselves a quick rundown of appropriate facts and figures, yes?:
1) 1 (one) bio-diesel converted school bus that runs on vegetable oil
4) 1 (one) mission: reinvigorate the American Spirit of Ingenuity by taking the concepts of renewable resources and sustainable design to the road, and to the people (to US!)
2) 1 (one) traffic ticket necessitating a fund raiser
3) 1 stage, built from scratch for the first time on Ranch land
8) 9 (eight) musical acts, ranging from piano jazz and funk to rap and rock and roll
5) (triumph of will)²
6) (artwork on display for consumption)³
7) 1 beautiful weather
9) 1 fill-in-the-blank
Were you there? Did you miss it? How was your hair?
Monday, May 5, 2008
Welcome Goes to the Human Champion
Today I am filming reshoots for Andy's super-secret puppet project pilot... And so let me allow this moment to be the moment I welcome Andy's Human Champioи-brand blog-brand imprint to the American Southwest blog safari! You like gold? This guy's a goldrush! You want chuckles? This guy's chuckin'em! Ranch member and Premium-Level Widows Fan Andy Ryz will be your guide to the spectacularly abstract world of modern entertainment professionalism. Professionism. Modern independent entertainment professionization.
And make sure to take a look at my list of Widow Blogs and other Important Links for more Miller-sanctioned marginalia from an assortment of contemporary luminaries!
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Working on a Secret Project
Hellow!
I'm hunkered down at the old Broadcaster offices transmitting this pirate blog-cast to the free world and approved po9ints bey0nd and about and in and around and throughout or thereabouts. I hope this electric message finds you well and in good condition to enjoy the clean air that I hope you are breathing in our br1ghter tomorrow.
Thanks to ourspace.biz for the sexy inspirational graphic! With friends like these, who needs affordable hi-speed internet and video-on-demand! Rock and ROLL!
I'm hunkered down at the old Broadcaster offices transmitting this pirate blog-cast to the free world and approved po9ints bey0nd and about and in and around and throughout or thereabouts. I hope this electric message finds you well and in good condition to enjoy the clean air that I hope you are breathing in our br1ghter tomorrow.
Thanks to ourspace.biz for the sexy inspirational graphic! With friends like these, who needs affordable hi-speed internet and video-on-demand! Rock and ROLL!
Monday, April 14, 2008
No, I'm updating casually
Hello Friends!
Boy, it's been another nonstop week for this sandy old Widow! But in my brain, I think it's been more like three years again. Oops!
Mazochi and I recorded the Official Studio Cut of "The Duffel Bag Shuffle" for the Mountain Man web series. All-in-all, I'd say it was a pretty spectacularly positive experience--considering I typically avoid working with him because he's crazy and, more importantly, he decided to quit smoking on the day we started. Yeah, you read that right.
So now Mazochi's extra crazy and I'm extra crazy because... I guess it was unfair to say that I "typically avoid working with him because he's crazy"--I suppose it would be more fair to say I'm just crazy and patchy in the collaboration department... I think things in fast abstractions, especially when I'm nervous or insecure, and so it makes it very difficult for me to communicate. Any of you ever read Melville's novella Billy Budd?
Well, long story short, this poor guy Billy Budd, who everybody loves because he is just so blissfully good-hearted--naive, you might just say--takes a job on a British Naval ship and gets himself into some bad trouble. You see, despite his good heart--his innocence, you might say--he has a flaw: he stutters terribly. He has trouble getting anything out, you know, like his tongue gets tied.
Well, as I remember it, young Billy gets by alright--everybody loves him, after all--until a dark fellow, Claggart, tries to frame him for mutiny.
Billy can't defend himself, obviously, because the words just don't come. And in a moment of pure disbelief, the innocent Billy Budd punches Claggart in the head and kills him. Everybody knows Claggart was a scumbag and Billy is an innocent, but in the end the Captain, who loves Billy, must put him to death to preserve the greater good, presumably. Or something like that...
Anyway, the subtext, as I can recall, was that Billy's lovely innocence had no place in his world. Almost, even, that his presence in his world brought about its own end... A captivating instance of metaphorical bloom in the "real" world, brought to us courtesy of Herman Melville, a man whose mind was way out ahead of and behind his time. A man who might just have felt a bit tongue-tied himself.
Now where was I? Oh yes. Well, in our world, no punches were thrown. Mazochi and I both made that leap of faith--the one where you know you're both tongue-tied--everybody's fuckin tongue-tied!--and you decide to begin deciphering in good faith what one and the other are getting at.
Well, yeah. Creativity is adaptability is captivity is transcendence. Our minds are poised on fluctuating undulating currents of metaphor. We are imaginary numbers. We are the imaginary numbers that make our own imaginary equations add up. Radical negative one, we used to call it, back in the war days. World War Public School System. WWPSS. World War PS². World War Playstation 2. World War Whadya'DO?!
Hi. I'm Mike Miller.
What else? Okay... Had a show at the Whiskey. Good times! People said the sound was excellent. Now I'm in Humboldt County! With Chuck and Kendra and pets... I'm actually exhausted. I've seen things these past few travellin' days... Old, old trees... Old trees that have watched the beach for centuries... More... All of it looks like consciousness... It all looks like the shapes of consciousness. Literally--whatever that means and in actuality as well. Really it does. It even looks like the shapes of what I see when I flip through the telly, gov'na! What could it mean?
When I write it, it seems to obey some more order... Except that it only obeys the order I can translate and impose, which is imperfect and, more than that, impractical. Impractical when you consider all that it is you are trying to say. But when you ought to transcend... You run smack into a society that built itself on the sanctity of its own languages... Its own metaphors, of course, at a deeper level. Self-coding, self-interpreting metaphor engines. Or metaphorical engines... Or... Enginas. In-jeans. Jones-ing for in-jeans. Keep it in your jeans, Jones.
No I will not! I will, instead, pursue adventure! Smash! And bring knowledge, WITH A SMASH!, into the Western World!
But we're not doing that, Dr. Jones... It was already here when we got here. It is working on us. Deeper metaphors are already at work on us. They explain themselves with us--using US as units. Of course we do the same, then, after we consider that we are perhaps being watched... That we are, perhaps, the terminus of some kind of focal point... But we then, with some effort, are able to convince ourselves that we are interpreting objectively...
Objective--what does that mean today?
We are a beautiful feedback loop. Ideas, like electricity... Media, like water. Mmm, we could cook meat by mixing the two and zapping it... Or... We could try to understand one... Or the other... Maybe both... Perhaps we should just try and figure out how many different ways we could cook the meat using the electrified pond... But G.I. Joe told us to stay away from downed power lines near puddles... But I saw how they recut that old cartoon clip and made it really funny with different voices on YouTube. That shit was funny.
Okay then... Let's just see what different kinds of spark patterns we can create by tossing the power lines into the pond from that high perch over there--up on top the school-bell! That should give us the kind of distance and acceleration we need for some really serious fireworks! Then we can sell that shit!
"But our power-water park was not meant to cater only to the super-rich..."
"Well, we can have a--a coupon day, or something like tha-aaAHHAAAAAAAAAAAHHHGGGGGGGG!!! AGAAAAHHHHRRRRRAAAAAAAAAKL-GRAAWRRRRAAAAAHHHHH!"
And then that fuckin' investment lawyer gets his ass FRIED!
Everybody eats meat that night, but snarling metaphors in the mist drag the rest away before sunrise. Their thoughts then join those of the lawyer in the electrified pond when the metaphors ritualistically piss there, on the shifty banks of the electrified pond.
That, of course, kills the beastly metaphors, all accept for one, with an immunity to death by pissing in electrified bodies of water. This metaphor is grateful and multiplies (somehow), then is killed by its children when it won't go out and rent or buy Jurassic Park on VHS. You see, this wise metaphor thought a better metaphor for its own precarious position in this chaotic world would be a couple tapes of GI JOE episodes--dubbed VHSes, with original commercials from the times they aired. Just for a bit more perspective, you know... Just so they can know how... How... How did it survive again?
Well, no matter--it's dead now. We dumped the body in the river by the old power plant. No use in confusing anybody. And wouldn't you know it, when we were about to leave, just right out of the blue, one of those big old power poles just went ahead and toppled there, right into the river! And the current started pulling at it, and, well--you can imagine what happened next!
"Oh... Yes, I think so. I think I can imagine that..."
"Don't bother! We got it on tape--or, uhh, on my brother's digital camera! I just put it on YouTube! Go check it out!"
"Okay...!"
"Go with God!"
"Uhh... God is good!"
"What?"
"Oh, uhh... I was just saying--"
"Just go check out that video! I bet it gets more than 50,000 hits by Tuesday morning..."
Okay!
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Impressions of Recent Events
Wow, it sure is hard sometimes to want to write what you're feeling!
Hi, I'm Mike Miller.
Well, I just gotta say I really enjoyed the Ranch Party, Ranch Redemption: Redemption, which was held last week. Our friend Quinn came up... He tracked an album with Mazochi a number of months ago and arrived with pressings in hand. He played an excellent set to a capacity crowd in Alpha Cabin. It was wonderful to see how many people actually showed up to our springtime opener. The Widows followed up with a barrage of hits, and I was even given the chance to play electric licks on our acoustic lineup, which I took as a vote of confidence from our rapacious leader, Michael Mazochi. He saw my eyes and new that I needed to feed the need.
A good population of our neighbors showed up too! Our scheduled Tesla Coil demonstration was postponed--in favor, of course, of extra unscheduled fun. I completely support that decision. Now I await even more eagerly the appearance of Tesla's Coil on our Ranch.
Food and spirits were had by all, long into the night. Limits tested, trespassed, and respected. But in the air was excellence. My good friend shoved me into bed and there I rested.
Sizzler breakfast. Goodbye friendses. Chuck and Kendra. Never endses.
And then, throughout the week, as our band practices and plays showcases to awed audiences, Chuck and Kendra pack their suitcases. Play Playstation. Quietly arrange their safe transition.
We played a showcase at the Whiskey, arranged very graciously by Mr. Mike Giangrecco. Had an awful nice time there, and a lot of our elders gave us their approval. That shit is good as gold, especially in our times, when so much of what we do is to manifest a subconscious escape from their manifestations. That's why I live on this mountain. And the only way is love.
Next night we're playing at the Spaceland! In Silverlake! With such bands as Nightfur! and Craft Club! Thanks to all who came out to this one, which was a very fun show, all accounts. We forgot to bring the power cable for the Wurlitzer, and we didn't have a backup keyboard available, so we had to scrap our two keyboard-augmented songs. Bummer, because that includes one of our favorite new ones that's been getting all our friends to smile. It was okay, though. Mazochi pulled me aside and gave me his counterproposal: sub out the two keyboard ones for two non-keyboard ones, ones that kick ass. I thought for a moment and then concurred. The night proceeded splendidly. Thank you Is Good Radio for including us on the docket! For the record, our band forgot to redeem two of our drink tickets (Tedd had them, even though he's off the booze), and so I'm thinking there was a little something extra in there special in the way of extra value there, for the Spaceland. Thankyou for having us! That great big blue shimmering curtain really made me feel like we were on a late show of some fashion or another, which was great. Tedd and I discussed and we thought it was like Conan kind of. Oh, wouldn't that be a serious thrill!
Friday rolls around and Chuck and Kendra have got a moving truck and a trailor hitch and all of a sudden this whole thing--this Chuck and Kendra moving back to Humboldt County thing--this whole thing is finally happening for real. Makes my face like having a little crying behind it. Andy was a champ helping to move that big 18-footer through our obstacle-ridden drivepaths. And hitching up the trailer that is currently hauling Kendra's vehicle. That's a badass couple, that Chuck and Kendra. That's a couple I figure helped me out a lot over these past two-and-a-half years. All those midnight meals. Puppy piles. There were plenty of times I would watch their pets while they were away and one or the two of them would find me sleeping on the couch in a pile of pets and pillows when they came home. Just today, not long after I awoke, I was first acutely aware of their absence, when I walked down the stone steps near their empty cabin. They both told me that they weren't leaving the Ranch--they were just extending its boundaries. I can buy that.
Did you know Mazochi was the guy that married them? I mean performed the ceremony. He got his license to wed others from the internet, all totally legit. This would be almost two years ago. Mazochi and I also played for the wedding. Chuck and Kendra made two requests, each to be performed by one or the other of us. They picked Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" for me to sing, and asked that I change "Caroline" to "Kendra Bane," which I did, with gusto... But the doozy was that Mazochi had to play Kenny Rogers' "Lady," which, if you know the track, is, ummm... Not exactly Mazochi's cup of tea. So we had to sit down and work out an arrangement that jived just a little bit more with the dark prince of folkypop... And we ended up with something that I think surprised the both of us as far as its poignancy in the moment went. Kendra even cried real tears.
But listen to me, I was so drunk that weekend for so long on a keg of beer that magically never ended--you just ask anybody that was there... That thing lasted the whole camping weekend in the middle of a forest and a bunch of tents housing a bunch of drinkers--I was so drunk I remember everybody having an English accent, so... Anyway, it was one of the greatest times.
Today I recorded a little rockin' guitar for a new Mazochi track. Feels good. Tomorrow we'll get started on Duffel Bag Shuffle: the Studio Cut. Should be fun. Oh yeah, I took Tedd to LAX some time recently... He's taking a spell back in Upstate--looking to mend some fences... Or mind some friendses. Reweave the tattered warp... Errr... He'll be back before our next show, at the Whiskey.
Okay! Good night!
Hi, I'm Mike Miller.
Well, I just gotta say I really enjoyed the Ranch Party, Ranch Redemption: Redemption, which was held last week. Our friend Quinn came up... He tracked an album with Mazochi a number of months ago and arrived with pressings in hand. He played an excellent set to a capacity crowd in Alpha Cabin. It was wonderful to see how many people actually showed up to our springtime opener. The Widows followed up with a barrage of hits, and I was even given the chance to play electric licks on our acoustic lineup, which I took as a vote of confidence from our rapacious leader, Michael Mazochi. He saw my eyes and new that I needed to feed the need.
A good population of our neighbors showed up too! Our scheduled Tesla Coil demonstration was postponed--in favor, of course, of extra unscheduled fun. I completely support that decision. Now I await even more eagerly the appearance of Tesla's Coil on our Ranch.
Food and spirits were had by all, long into the night. Limits tested, trespassed, and respected. But in the air was excellence. My good friend shoved me into bed and there I rested.
Sizzler breakfast. Goodbye friendses. Chuck and Kendra. Never endses.
And then, throughout the week, as our band practices and plays showcases to awed audiences, Chuck and Kendra pack their suitcases. Play Playstation. Quietly arrange their safe transition.
We played a showcase at the Whiskey, arranged very graciously by Mr. Mike Giangrecco. Had an awful nice time there, and a lot of our elders gave us their approval. That shit is good as gold, especially in our times, when so much of what we do is to manifest a subconscious escape from their manifestations. That's why I live on this mountain. And the only way is love.
Next night we're playing at the Spaceland! In Silverlake! With such bands as Nightfur! and Craft Club! Thanks to all who came out to this one, which was a very fun show, all accounts. We forgot to bring the power cable for the Wurlitzer, and we didn't have a backup keyboard available, so we had to scrap our two keyboard-augmented songs. Bummer, because that includes one of our favorite new ones that's been getting all our friends to smile. It was okay, though. Mazochi pulled me aside and gave me his counterproposal: sub out the two keyboard ones for two non-keyboard ones, ones that kick ass. I thought for a moment and then concurred. The night proceeded splendidly. Thank you Is Good Radio for including us on the docket! For the record, our band forgot to redeem two of our drink tickets (Tedd had them, even though he's off the booze), and so I'm thinking there was a little something extra in there special in the way of extra value there, for the Spaceland. Thankyou for having us! That great big blue shimmering curtain really made me feel like we were on a late show of some fashion or another, which was great. Tedd and I discussed and we thought it was like Conan kind of. Oh, wouldn't that be a serious thrill!
Friday rolls around and Chuck and Kendra have got a moving truck and a trailor hitch and all of a sudden this whole thing--this Chuck and Kendra moving back to Humboldt County thing--this whole thing is finally happening for real. Makes my face like having a little crying behind it. Andy was a champ helping to move that big 18-footer through our obstacle-ridden drivepaths. And hitching up the trailer that is currently hauling Kendra's vehicle. That's a badass couple, that Chuck and Kendra. That's a couple I figure helped me out a lot over these past two-and-a-half years. All those midnight meals. Puppy piles. There were plenty of times I would watch their pets while they were away and one or the two of them would find me sleeping on the couch in a pile of pets and pillows when they came home. Just today, not long after I awoke, I was first acutely aware of their absence, when I walked down the stone steps near their empty cabin. They both told me that they weren't leaving the Ranch--they were just extending its boundaries. I can buy that.
Did you know Mazochi was the guy that married them? I mean performed the ceremony. He got his license to wed others from the internet, all totally legit. This would be almost two years ago. Mazochi and I also played for the wedding. Chuck and Kendra made two requests, each to be performed by one or the other of us. They picked Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" for me to sing, and asked that I change "Caroline" to "Kendra Bane," which I did, with gusto... But the doozy was that Mazochi had to play Kenny Rogers' "Lady," which, if you know the track, is, ummm... Not exactly Mazochi's cup of tea. So we had to sit down and work out an arrangement that jived just a little bit more with the dark prince of folkypop... And we ended up with something that I think surprised the both of us as far as its poignancy in the moment went. Kendra even cried real tears.
But listen to me, I was so drunk that weekend for so long on a keg of beer that magically never ended--you just ask anybody that was there... That thing lasted the whole camping weekend in the middle of a forest and a bunch of tents housing a bunch of drinkers--I was so drunk I remember everybody having an English accent, so... Anyway, it was one of the greatest times.
Today I recorded a little rockin' guitar for a new Mazochi track. Feels good. Tomorrow we'll get started on Duffel Bag Shuffle: the Studio Cut. Should be fun. Oh yeah, I took Tedd to LAX some time recently... He's taking a spell back in Upstate--looking to mend some fences... Or mind some friendses. Reweave the tattered warp... Errr... He'll be back before our next show, at the Whiskey.
Okay! Good night!
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Ranch Party Recovery Mode Alpha
Well hello there! I wanted to quick post about how happy I am that you all who did come out came out to the Ranch Redemption: Redemption! It was a real super-duper affair, and memorable! Pictures to come, and analysis! Also information about Tesla's Coil when it becomes available! Keep out one peeled ear and a socket for an eyeful!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Hotel Cafe, UPDATE! STARS! BOOZE!
Good afternoon!
Last night the Widows played another Hotel Cafe gig--thanks to you all who came out! This was an exciting night--we debuted two--count'em, TWO--new songs... One even that had our first three-part harmony in a live show... Right there at the end, after Mazochi blew up his guitar and his amp and had to play on the acoustic through the DI... But I thought it went great! It didn't suck!
Yes, this was a wild, warped evening occasion--first thing when Mazochi and I get to the place to unload our equipment, guess who's holding the door for me like just the sweetest, most elegant lady in the world? None other than the elegant Miss Drew Barrymore, who is just the nicest, most gracious lady in person. Also one of those individuals very capable of leaving me starstruck, which she did.
Of course, then you flash forward a couple of hours and my friends and I run into her again... And now my star-stricken-ness has been replaced by sloppy drunkenness... Probably best I blacked out most of that affair... After I told Justin Long how much I thought he added to Die Hard 4 with tears in my eyes... It couldn't conceivably have improved.
At any rate, you can flash forward to this morning, where I'm throwing up just outside a roadside horseranch, in the hills, on the way to Malibu Beach, where I stagger out onto the clean white sand and pass out while my friends are watching a seal, a dolphin, and a whale play in the surf.
We need to save this planet.
Last night the Widows played another Hotel Cafe gig--thanks to you all who came out! This was an exciting night--we debuted two--count'em, TWO--new songs... One even that had our first three-part harmony in a live show... Right there at the end, after Mazochi blew up his guitar and his amp and had to play on the acoustic through the DI... But I thought it went great! It didn't suck!
Yes, this was a wild, warped evening occasion--first thing when Mazochi and I get to the place to unload our equipment, guess who's holding the door for me like just the sweetest, most elegant lady in the world? None other than the elegant Miss Drew Barrymore, who is just the nicest, most gracious lady in person. Also one of those individuals very capable of leaving me starstruck, which she did.
Of course, then you flash forward a couple of hours and my friends and I run into her again... And now my star-stricken-ness has been replaced by sloppy drunkenness... Probably best I blacked out most of that affair... After I told Justin Long how much I thought he added to Die Hard 4 with tears in my eyes... It couldn't conceivably have improved.
At any rate, you can flash forward to this morning, where I'm throwing up just outside a roadside horseranch, in the hills, on the way to Malibu Beach, where I stagger out onto the clean white sand and pass out while my friends are watching a seal, a dolphin, and a whale play in the surf.
We need to save this planet.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Everyone is Born Weak and Small
Hello there! Here is a quick bit of advice from my favorite power-lifter, Mike Miller, rendered here in Q&A form compliments of Critical Bench, the biggest bench press site on the net!
9) Critical Bench: You will probably go down in the eyes of many as an icon. You were one of the best powerlifters, the biggest and you left on top. How would you address all the lifters who aren't elite yet? What message would you like to give them?
Mike Miller: Lift for yourself, dont be afraid to try something radical, think outside the box. If it doesn't work don't keep doing it. Seek advice from someone who has accomplished something and 'Ignore the ramblings of the ignorant, and step on or over their crumpled bodies as you make your way to the top of the mountain. Eat upon their flesh for fuel and through your determination and will banish them to obscurity and a life of complacency and self righteousness that is the hell in which they live.' Richard Safreed [said that].
'Nuff said!
♥Miller
9) Critical Bench: You will probably go down in the eyes of many as an icon. You were one of the best powerlifters, the biggest and you left on top. How would you address all the lifters who aren't elite yet? What message would you like to give them?
Mike Miller: Lift for yourself, dont be afraid to try something radical, think outside the box. If it doesn't work don't keep doing it. Seek advice from someone who has accomplished something and 'Ignore the ramblings of the ignorant, and step on or over their crumpled bodies as you make your way to the top of the mountain. Eat upon their flesh for fuel and through your determination and will banish them to obscurity and a life of complacency and self righteousness that is the hell in which they live.' Richard Safreed [said that].
'Nuff said!
♥Miller
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Puritan's Progress
Yes! Mountain Man is proceeding swimmingly. We had an excellent first few days of shooting. Seems everyone is pleasantly surprised. That makes me feel very good. I was, of course, very nervous--I am the star, of course. Of course, I'm always a star--I'm talking naturally, here--but still, on a project with this kind of profile (read: HIGH)... I was nervous.
I worked with a lovely young lady named Ashlee. It helps to have a lovely, young, and gracious lady to work with in a high pressure situation. Helps push you in the direction of your A-game. That's probably why the movie Speed is so good.
INT:ERRUPTION!!!
"...there's six people to every marriage--precedents set by the parents, family life--where they put the dish towels, how often they take out the trash--you know, people like to think they're individuals, but there's really a lot more going on... When you live together, you really realize that every marriage actually involves six people..."
Anyway, we'll be filming again on Saturday and Sunday. Dolly shots are next, I think. A whole big long day of smooth, silky-slick dolly moves. Then a day-long timelapse of me sitting under a tree, from sunup to sundown. I hope there's pizza!
♥Miller
Also, the band played last night at this country-themey general-storzey type place called Hallenbeck's, I believe. Just to do their open mic there to spread the word... Had a great response. If... I think our elders have foggy impressions of what they want... From us... I'm not sure what I'm trying to say. I think our thoughts... I think grandmothers and babies all want to have sex.
I worked with a lovely young lady named Ashlee. It helps to have a lovely, young, and gracious lady to work with in a high pressure situation. Helps push you in the direction of your A-game. That's probably why the movie Speed is so good.
INT:ERRUPTION!!!
"...there's six people to every marriage--precedents set by the parents, family life--where they put the dish towels, how often they take out the trash--you know, people like to think they're individuals, but there's really a lot more going on... When you live together, you really realize that every marriage actually involves six people..."
Anyway, we'll be filming again on Saturday and Sunday. Dolly shots are next, I think. A whole big long day of smooth, silky-slick dolly moves. Then a day-long timelapse of me sitting under a tree, from sunup to sundown. I hope there's pizza!
♥Miller
Also, the band played last night at this country-themey general-storzey type place called Hallenbeck's, I believe. Just to do their open mic there to spread the word... Had a great response. If... I think our elders have foggy impressions of what they want... From us... I'm not sure what I'm trying to say. I think our thoughts... I think grandmothers and babies all want to have sex.
Friday, March 14, 2008
qt--Director's Cut
Hey there. Tough day, great day!
Woke up around 7-ish...fifteen-ish... For a 6:30 call. Crisp, cold morning. The nights are still cold here on the mountain. Well, I did wake up at 5:30... Maybe 5:22 if I remember correctly... Toby was scratching on the door to be let out. Bullshit. It wasn't even light outside. I sat up to check after he continued--FOUR or FIVE more times--to scratch to be let out. Like I was going to walk him to his dog run in the final precious moments of morning darkness. Like Hell. I ended up grabbing him and wrapping him like a Miller-Toby Taco in my blanket.
Sometimes, when Mazochi's away, and I live a couple nights in his home/office with the cat... Sometimes his dwelling begins to inhabit YOU. It's got THAT much mojo. Rovin Gambla, whuh-whaaa! Woo-woo!
The first shots of Mountain Man involved me, dressed simply in a sheet wrapped about my waist and crotch--like an Indian dhoti, if you are familiar with traditional types of Indian dress--involved me running down a mountainside in cowboy boots and not a ton much else except for tons of beads and shells and such around my neck and wrists and a weaved headband... Listen to me... I'm secretly obsessed... I had tribal paint in red and brown on my face and chest and belly. I got a lot of sun... God. Too much sun. Fucking rookie. No, that's horseshit. I think I secretly wanted that too. Now my back hurts. Red. Need. Aloe.
...Involved me running down a mountainside with a hatchet and a gun, firing wildly into the air, screaming, running into and across the ice cold river, over and over, running up and over the rocks and boulders of the opposite bank, screaming and pointing a gun at two hapless hikers, injured by my poison darts. Just to start. Over and over again. It was awesome. And I, like a dumbass, got a sunburn, which is just annoying considering continuity but not probably a major concern... We had a great time. Shot lots. I'll have lots of pictures soon... Well, har, I think I'll find some of those pics on some other blogs and steal them.
Oh yeah, and then Uncle Hans stopped by with steaks and beers and then we went out to Joselito's, which is the first place I took Ox when he first moved out here,
,and to which Ox had requested we go on account of it was the last day of his visit.
We went, and we drank margaritas. I had a margarita, and then I had a margarita grande, which was the larger size, on account of I like all that extra salt that fits around the larger goblet. That's what that shit was. A GOBLET.
Then--Tedd was the DD--me, Hans, Josh, and Tedd went on a zany drive about Foothill Boulevard looking for Polaroid film. Josh actually bought the last unit of Polaroid film in Tujunga from the Rite-Aid by the Ralph's. He wanted more, but it was simply all too impossible to find. End of an era. 10 magical memories for $19.
A good day.
Woke up around 7-ish...fifteen-ish... For a 6:30 call. Crisp, cold morning. The nights are still cold here on the mountain. Well, I did wake up at 5:30... Maybe 5:22 if I remember correctly... Toby was scratching on the door to be let out. Bullshit. It wasn't even light outside. I sat up to check after he continued--FOUR or FIVE more times--to scratch to be let out. Like I was going to walk him to his dog run in the final precious moments of morning darkness. Like Hell. I ended up grabbing him and wrapping him like a Miller-Toby Taco in my blanket.
Sometimes, when Mazochi's away, and I live a couple nights in his home/office with the cat... Sometimes his dwelling begins to inhabit YOU. It's got THAT much mojo. Rovin Gambla, whuh-whaaa! Woo-woo!
The first shots of Mountain Man involved me, dressed simply in a sheet wrapped about my waist and crotch--like an Indian dhoti, if you are familiar with traditional types of Indian dress--involved me running down a mountainside in cowboy boots and not a ton much else except for tons of beads and shells and such around my neck and wrists and a weaved headband... Listen to me... I'm secretly obsessed... I had tribal paint in red and brown on my face and chest and belly. I got a lot of sun... God. Too much sun. Fucking rookie. No, that's horseshit. I think I secretly wanted that too. Now my back hurts. Red. Need. Aloe.
...Involved me running down a mountainside with a hatchet and a gun, firing wildly into the air, screaming, running into and across the ice cold river, over and over, running up and over the rocks and boulders of the opposite bank, screaming and pointing a gun at two hapless hikers, injured by my poison darts. Just to start. Over and over again. It was awesome. And I, like a dumbass, got a sunburn, which is just annoying considering continuity but not probably a major concern... We had a great time. Shot lots. I'll have lots of pictures soon... Well, har, I think I'll find some of those pics on some other blogs and steal them.
Oh yeah, and then Uncle Hans stopped by with steaks and beers and then we went out to Joselito's, which is the first place I took Ox when he first moved out here,
,and to which Ox had requested we go on account of it was the last day of his visit.
We went, and we drank margaritas. I had a margarita, and then I had a margarita grande, which was the larger size, on account of I like all that extra salt that fits around the larger goblet. That's what that shit was. A GOBLET.
Then--Tedd was the DD--me, Hans, Josh, and Tedd went on a zany drive about Foothill Boulevard looking for Polaroid film. Josh actually bought the last unit of Polaroid film in Tujunga from the Rite-Aid by the Ralph's. He wanted more, but it was simply all too impossible to find. End of an era. 10 magical memories for $19.
A good day.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Secret Mountain Post, Pre-Mountain Man
Question: What kind of car does an exorcist drive?
-Looks like a... Some sort of shiny Chrysler sedan. I'm glad he agreed to help that haunted family.
Hi. I'm Mike Miller. I'm at Chuck's, the television is on, and I'm amazed by the Discovery Channel.
QUICK UPDATE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Last night we did the "table reading" of the first shoot of the Mountain Man project. It was very fun! Matt Mangs has written a great script. Table reading means we sat at a table and read the script. With acting on.
Today we prepare for shooting bright and early tomorrow morning. God, I just had to turn off the TV. Well, the sound of it. The visual was already off because I was using the computer and writing to you. More economical that way. Or eco-friendly. Something. Anyway, there was a whole bunch of girls talking about something called (and forgive the spelling, I could only hear it so I'm gonna go phonetic here) "Hoo-dia-shure," kind of like Ensure- or Pediasure-style naming conventions... "Whodyasure! The hardest working Who-do-ya' product on the market!"
And then there were these testimonials, and I couldn't see the screen or anything, but it pretty much sounded like it would sound on the radio in one of those aggressive, testimonials-driven-pseudoscience miracle-based product spots... There were these girls--all hot sounding--giving... Testimony.
Anyway, the first one, to my ear, sounded very, very sarcastic.
The rest were...
Not so convincing. It was just... What? Wh-where am I? Wh-Where am I?
We have a Buffmillox show tonight on the Ranch. Ox is here for another day or two. I have to go practice with them soon. Also have to get together with Mangs and go over costumes for the shoot. Yee-HAW! That's what Howard Dean should have said after his Iowa disappointment. Ah well. He's got some crazy power now, way as I see it. Spitzer was a superdelegate... It's really coming down to the arrangement of those delegates, way as I see it... Maybe a little more like in early TV days, when those programmers ran tallies during the successive rounds of the convention, waiting for a winner to emerge. Right? Didn't that happen? Yeah. Now we get minute-by-minute, micro-by-macro, but essentially edited programming packages, with main focuses, filling up more billable time but essentially filling the same amalgous demographic voids... Just refraction and soulless industry really pushing it and us... But essentially a lot like back then... So...
Am I trying to say... The democratic race reminds me more of back then? No, that would be wrong, right? I think so, because I think I just said media now is still essentially the same as back then, just refracted and spurred by industry spurred by the stock market boardroom carrot-lash. You ever been whipped by a carrot? Or had one whipped at you? A big one?
It HURTS! And so does the Elliot Spitzer thing. But that guy fucked with the carrot-lashers themselves--and their daddies! And their granddaddies and their granddaddies' granddaddies come to think of it... Man, his kink level must have been outrageous to risk opening up a chink in the underarmor like that... To those... People.
Yeah, no, that's I'm sure a massive oversimplification. Maybe this just occurred to me subconsciously as a way to attract random search traffickings. I'll surely metatag it now.
Mountain Man starts bright and early tomorrow morning. Loincloth. Mud. Ceremony. Sacrifice. Go big or go home.
-Looks like a... Some sort of shiny Chrysler sedan. I'm glad he agreed to help that haunted family.
Hi. I'm Mike Miller. I'm at Chuck's, the television is on, and I'm amazed by the Discovery Channel.
QUICK UPDATE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Last night we did the "table reading" of the first shoot of the Mountain Man project. It was very fun! Matt Mangs has written a great script. Table reading means we sat at a table and read the script. With acting on.
Today we prepare for shooting bright and early tomorrow morning. God, I just had to turn off the TV. Well, the sound of it. The visual was already off because I was using the computer and writing to you. More economical that way. Or eco-friendly. Something. Anyway, there was a whole bunch of girls talking about something called (and forgive the spelling, I could only hear it so I'm gonna go phonetic here) "Hoo-dia-shure," kind of like Ensure- or Pediasure-style naming conventions... "Whodyasure! The hardest working Who-do-ya' product on the market!"
And then there were these testimonials, and I couldn't see the screen or anything, but it pretty much sounded like it would sound on the radio in one of those aggressive, testimonials-driven-pseudoscience miracle-based product spots... There were these girls--all hot sounding--giving... Testimony.
Anyway, the first one, to my ear, sounded very, very sarcastic.
The rest were...
Not so convincing. It was just... What? Wh-where am I? Wh-Where am I?
We have a Buffmillox show tonight on the Ranch. Ox is here for another day or two. I have to go practice with them soon. Also have to get together with Mangs and go over costumes for the shoot. Yee-HAW! That's what Howard Dean should have said after his Iowa disappointment. Ah well. He's got some crazy power now, way as I see it. Spitzer was a superdelegate... It's really coming down to the arrangement of those delegates, way as I see it... Maybe a little more like in early TV days, when those programmers ran tallies during the successive rounds of the convention, waiting for a winner to emerge. Right? Didn't that happen? Yeah. Now we get minute-by-minute, micro-by-macro, but essentially edited programming packages, with main focuses, filling up more billable time but essentially filling the same amalgous demographic voids... Just refraction and soulless industry really pushing it and us... But essentially a lot like back then... So...
Am I trying to say... The democratic race reminds me more of back then? No, that would be wrong, right? I think so, because I think I just said media now is still essentially the same as back then, just refracted and spurred by industry spurred by the stock market boardroom carrot-lash. You ever been whipped by a carrot? Or had one whipped at you? A big one?
It HURTS! And so does the Elliot Spitzer thing. But that guy fucked with the carrot-lashers themselves--and their daddies! And their granddaddies and their granddaddies' granddaddies come to think of it... Man, his kink level must have been outrageous to risk opening up a chink in the underarmor like that... To those... People.
Yeah, no, that's I'm sure a massive oversimplification. Maybe this just occurred to me subconsciously as a way to attract random search traffickings. I'll surely metatag it now.
Mountain Man starts bright and early tomorrow morning. Loincloth. Mud. Ceremony. Sacrifice. Go big or go home.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Dispatch from the Cabin of Mazochi
I'm bloogering from Mazochi's cabin right now. He ain't here and the cat's here snoozing. I went po-tu-tu in the po-tot-tay earlier and the cat wouldn't leave me alone. Toby fat cat. Fattie love cat. He emotes so clearly and intensely that I defy you not to feel bashful while you're taking a shit right next to him.
Ah, what else. I had what is known as a Mexican Pizza earlier from 52 Burritos on Foothill. Filled me right up. I had chicken as the meat. Great meat there. The beef is choice, I was told.
I had a run-in with some of Melissa Rauso's friends this afternoon. That was excellent. Good luck to ya'all in Chicago. I'd love to check out a library there sometime.
Hmm. I need to do a huge load of laundry and I'm going to go to a laundromat. I like going to laundromats because of the smell and the white noise. Also the people, of course. In general I like to go to public places where people are waiting where there is a lot of white noise and a good smell, on account of I have a large beard and friendly demeanor and I like that kind of attention.
Andy Ryz is back in town. He was over there in Boston or thereabouts. Looks like they fed him. I wish I could go home.
I have a few tracks that I'm going to release on this blog very soon. I'd like to release them A-side-B-side-wise, like in twofers, or pairs of doves. One, with another fluttering in its excited, feather-frenzied aftermath.
To all cops: when in hot pursuit of a suspect, try blasting "Roundabout," by YES. I think it would give you the kind of rush you need right now.
In my peripheral vision Mazochi's guitar polish looked like a paper elephant for a moment, of a material not unlike that of a Chinese fingertrap.
Our apricot tree just sprouted these beautiful white petals... We had thought it might be dead. Tedd has been dutifully watering it. Josh Oxford used to jump into it when... We were all so very poor. It could happen again. I don't care. Josh is coming for a week's visit tomorrow. He's been accompanying an insane number of recitals or music juries or something like that back in Ithaca, at the music college. He tells me he's burned out, needs a week to settle down, see something new, have an adventure. I can understand that. It's getting warm and nicer out here. I felt some extra sun today. My mood depends more on the weather than anything else I can identify. Gimme a few more days of this and I'll start... Something. Ga ga gargle. Give me regular old, tequila-color Listerine--make me feel like a man. Like I oughtta throw on some aftershave! Well hell! I haven't shaved in about a year! Savin' up for Mountain Man. Yeah. Savin up for somethin.
I got stars in my eyes. But in the last two years I started seeing constellations when I glanced up into the night sky. Not looking for anything in particular; no renewed interest in astronomy or astrology or nuthin. So... That's good. I remember making out with a girl named Gina in a planetarium at summercamp. I ached for two or three days when I went home that summer. Ached for Gina. Lump in the throat, sink in the stomach--the whole bit. But I never wrote her a letter. I still wonder about her.
Well, it feels like the earth is shaking. I'll sign off for now.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Latent UPDATE!
Hello loyal readers, subscribers, underwriters, and chance happenstants!
Well, I really haven't written much since our smash Feb 22 Rock Show... I am personally very busy on projects that will eventually, invariably make their convoluted ways to this very outlet, this very BLOG! very shortly, I can only imaginate. Let me give a quick rundown:
Feb 22 hotel cafe happened, and it was reeal nice playing there on a Friday to such a nice crowd. Busy! And wild. I bloodied up my fingers real nice while I was shredding on the guitar and when I saw how much I was bleeding I played it up a little more. The bleeding. I bled like I was on CAMERA, DAWG! I played up the bleeding.
We played a show at the Roxy's upstairs attic-type establishment, "On the Rox." Heh. Lugged tons of gear up a rickety wood staircase that hugged the Roxy's side wall nakedly. Sound was an issue. But we play wild when the sound guys don't listen. So if you see a show of ours and the sound is off, you'd better get our your umbrellas. We'll be exerting like a pack of wild alpha-beasts.
What else?
I continue to prepare for Project: Mountain Man. Matts Mangs and Enlow are working feverishly on our underground lair, which is being built in the Dome on the Ranch. They have acquired artist William Mendoza for his painting expertise. I will be the star, naturally. Jonas Hawkinus. Ex-folk-pop-star (haha, sounds like ex post facto!) and Prophet for Gaia and the GREAT REVIVAL! Very intense stuff--violence, sex, paternity, substance abuse, magic, meditation, betrayal, and song. The story of a flawed man making sense of a perfect truth. Warts and all! (takes swig from bottle)
I'm working on memorizing and rehearsing. I'm also recording the #2 Appalachia Pop hit, "The Duffel Bag Shuffle." I am doing this in my shed on the Ranch.
RANCH PARTY MARCH @(! Oops. MARCH 29! Tedd and Kevbo made a commercial, and so that is the first commercial. Expect many more. I myself just finished performing in a super-secret Matthew Enlow production of the same nature. I also performed in a Kevbo video game fighter, also of a secret nature. Expect to encounter many of these new outrageous attractions on a blog or video server of some nature near you!
Then! we played at the Viper Room on March 5th, which was noteworthy on account of we never played there before. You might ask, "Didn't Mazochi play there before, once, in a small room with very little amplification?" I would say yes, but it wasn't in the main room, and it wasn't with band. That was a colder night, long ago. This night was hot. And I mean HOT! Heh, again we experienced issue with sound system flexibility... Nice big Marshall amp for me but we couldn't really make ourselves out... So we just made out. With the audience. We turned on our jets and piped some raw-sonique in from the pristine mountain ether which we breathe most days. Really knocked'em out. Got all sweaty and raw. Sticky. Made friends! Looked like this!:
And here you can see Tedd and Laura, our famous Beat-Beat Backyard, ya heard?:
Well, I really haven't written much since our smash Feb 22 Rock Show... I am personally very busy on projects that will eventually, invariably make their convoluted ways to this very outlet, this very BLOG! very shortly, I can only imaginate. Let me give a quick rundown:
Feb 22 hotel cafe happened, and it was reeal nice playing there on a Friday to such a nice crowd. Busy! And wild. I bloodied up my fingers real nice while I was shredding on the guitar and when I saw how much I was bleeding I played it up a little more. The bleeding. I bled like I was on CAMERA, DAWG! I played up the bleeding.
We played a show at the Roxy's upstairs attic-type establishment, "On the Rox." Heh. Lugged tons of gear up a rickety wood staircase that hugged the Roxy's side wall nakedly. Sound was an issue. But we play wild when the sound guys don't listen. So if you see a show of ours and the sound is off, you'd better get our your umbrellas. We'll be exerting like a pack of wild alpha-beasts.
What else?
I continue to prepare for Project: Mountain Man. Matts Mangs and Enlow are working feverishly on our underground lair, which is being built in the Dome on the Ranch. They have acquired artist William Mendoza for his painting expertise. I will be the star, naturally. Jonas Hawkinus. Ex-folk-pop-star (haha, sounds like ex post facto!) and Prophet for Gaia and the GREAT REVIVAL! Very intense stuff--violence, sex, paternity, substance abuse, magic, meditation, betrayal, and song. The story of a flawed man making sense of a perfect truth. Warts and all! (takes swig from bottle)
I'm working on memorizing and rehearsing. I'm also recording the #2 Appalachia Pop hit, "The Duffel Bag Shuffle." I am doing this in my shed on the Ranch.
RANCH PARTY MARCH @(! Oops. MARCH 29! Tedd and Kevbo made a commercial, and so that is the first commercial. Expect many more. I myself just finished performing in a super-secret Matthew Enlow production of the same nature. I also performed in a Kevbo video game fighter, also of a secret nature. Expect to encounter many of these new outrageous attractions on a blog or video server of some nature near you!
Then! we played at the Viper Room on March 5th, which was noteworthy on account of we never played there before. You might ask, "Didn't Mazochi play there before, once, in a small room with very little amplification?" I would say yes, but it wasn't in the main room, and it wasn't with band. That was a colder night, long ago. This night was hot. And I mean HOT! Heh, again we experienced issue with sound system flexibility... Nice big Marshall amp for me but we couldn't really make ourselves out... So we just made out. With the audience. We turned on our jets and piped some raw-sonique in from the pristine mountain ether which we breathe most days. Really knocked'em out. Got all sweaty and raw. Sticky. Made friends! Looked like this!:
And here you can see Tedd and Laura, our famous Beat-Beat Backyard, ya heard?:
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Dinosauroid "What-If" example A
Check out this cool pic, my first in a series of such works that outline one of biology's favorite hot-button issues: if catastrophe did not befall Earth's mighty reptilian dominants, what features would an evolved, highly intelligent species exhibit? (subtext: how "human" or primate-centric are our hypotheses?)
In this case, not so much anthropomorphism--as our artist would have you know, right on the picture there. As you will see, however, some renditions skew much closer to the template provided for by... HOMO SAPIENS!
In this case, not so much anthropomorphism--as our artist would have you know, right on the picture there. As you will see, however, some renditions skew much closer to the template provided for by... HOMO SAPIENS!
D-Bag in the Drawing Room
I'm working on a song called "The Duffel Bag Shuffle" for Mangs and his Mountain Man Production. I like it. I actually, after the first agonizing handful of hours, liked the experience of working on a song with another human. It's catchy, and it wouldn't have existed in its present form without the infinite micro and macro distortio-reconsiderations and reflecticamplifications that result from collaboration. Mr. Mangs is an outstanding collaborator with a unique skills set.
Secondly, I'm sore today from whupping so much ass at badminton yesterday and not stretching adequately. Lesson from this one, folks: STRETCH!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Newest Jones
Hellow thaire!
Oh God! I just took a sip of a long-standing Lucifer Sweetly's, which has been sitting on my desk at ex-work for months, just sitting here, short and stout and sweet and dark and brown and bubbly. Lucifer Sweetly's Cellar Door, brewed up on our very own Ranch by one of our very own, Harry Pottash. And I'm sitting here just drinking it and tasting its goodness and foam and fizz. And now the moment is fleeting, but the thick brown afterswell of sweet yeasty fullness reminds me that all of our moments fleet, and that if we allow ourselves to exist as a fleet of moments, then we can parade the corridors of its every battleship and cruiser like it was our birthday, and John F. Kennedy himSELF is the king.
Here is a picture!
Oh God! I just took a sip of a long-standing Lucifer Sweetly's, which has been sitting on my desk at ex-work for months, just sitting here, short and stout and sweet and dark and brown and bubbly. Lucifer Sweetly's Cellar Door, brewed up on our very own Ranch by one of our very own, Harry Pottash. And I'm sitting here just drinking it and tasting its goodness and foam and fizz. And now the moment is fleeting, but the thick brown afterswell of sweet yeasty fullness reminds me that all of our moments fleet, and that if we allow ourselves to exist as a fleet of moments, then we can parade the corridors of its every battleship and cruiser like it was our birthday, and John F. Kennedy himSELF is the king.
Here is a picture!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
BEAGLE WINS WESTMINSTER
A beagle just won Best in Show at the Westminster Dog Show in Madison Square Garden. Check out the AP feed here.
And I'd just like to say hell yeah! for "Uno," America's Next Top Dog. By all accounts, the little dog that made history won the prize with a heaping helping of good nature and spirited performance. Kind of like my band, The Widows, if you really think about it, long and hard. And so I think this is a victory for all of us, and for everybody who only got to see Seabiscuit on a tiny airplane screen with no sound, which is me.
♥Miller
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Dear The Widow Miller,
This is an excerpt from an advice-seeking letter from a beautiful young fan of the Widows, miss Elora Whitener:
Dear The Widow Miller:
Help! My parents won't let me purchase Michael Mazochi's Volume 1: Until My Teeth Turn Into Sand. They say they heard a report on CNBC's morning investment show that "many of [the background vocals] possess a raw sexual potency of a unique variety--not recommended for little ones." Little ones? I'm almost 16!
My first question is: what is "raw sexual potency"?
And secondly... How can I get a signed 7-by-10 of the Widow Tedd? Medium hair-length, preferably, but fluffed out, you know, like he's been playing rock music. Thanks!
Signed,
Elorable
--Why thanks for the letter, "Elorable"!
First off, we've received many such inquiries about CNBC's recent morning "news" piece. Roving Gambler Records is presently reviewing its options on the matter.
Second, those are some excellent questions, Elora! Why don't we travel over to The Widow Tedd's Blog and see what he has to say?
thewidowtedd.blogspot.com
Dear The Widow Miller:
Help! My parents won't let me purchase Michael Mazochi's Volume 1: Until My Teeth Turn Into Sand. They say they heard a report on CNBC's morning investment show that "many of [the background vocals] possess a raw sexual potency of a unique variety--not recommended for little ones." Little ones? I'm almost 16!
My first question is: what is "raw sexual potency"?
And secondly... How can I get a signed 7-by-10 of the Widow Tedd? Medium hair-length, preferably, but fluffed out, you know, like he's been playing rock music. Thanks!
Signed,
Elorable
--Why thanks for the letter, "Elorable"!
First off, we've received many such inquiries about CNBC's recent morning "news" piece. Roving Gambler Records is presently reviewing its options on the matter.
Second, those are some excellent questions, Elora! Why don't we travel over to The Widow Tedd's Blog and see what he has to say?
thewidowtedd.blogspot.com
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Whiskey Acoustic HANDICAP MATCH
UPDATE!
Whiskey Acoustic Appearance a HIT with Sunset Sitters and Bystanders!
On the evening of Wednesday, February 6th, Michael Mazochi and two Widows performed a "Handicap Match" versus an unsuspecting crowd. Missing from action were the Widows Laura and Tedd, the band's thunderous backbeat. On hand were Widows Blunt and Miller, on the fiddle and throat, respectively.
SET LIST:
1. Best Laid Plans
2. I See a Darkness
3. Georgia Line
4. To Set You Free
5. Trout Lemon
6. Heaven Come Easy
Without the aid of the Widows' Famous Beat-Beat Backyard, the testy trio of Mazochi, Miller, and Blunt needed to grab the Wednesday passed-midnight crowd--FAST! They quickly decided on a luscious vocal attack, fingerbang guitar, and hard violin cider. The combination was more than successful, and the Whiskey a-closed on a bonafide mid-week highlight.
For more details, demand more details--and STAY TUNED to any of your local Widows Affiliates for up-to-the-minute discrepancies and hard-to-find details!
Whiskey Acoustic Appearance a HIT with Sunset Sitters and Bystanders!
On the evening of Wednesday, February 6th, Michael Mazochi and two Widows performed a "Handicap Match" versus an unsuspecting crowd. Missing from action were the Widows Laura and Tedd, the band's thunderous backbeat. On hand were Widows Blunt and Miller, on the fiddle and throat, respectively.
SET LIST:
1. Best Laid Plans
2. I See a Darkness
3. Georgia Line
4. To Set You Free
5. Trout Lemon
6. Heaven Come Easy
Without the aid of the Widows' Famous Beat-Beat Backyard, the testy trio of Mazochi, Miller, and Blunt needed to grab the Wednesday passed-midnight crowd--FAST! They quickly decided on a luscious vocal attack, fingerbang guitar, and hard violin cider. The combination was more than successful, and the Whiskey a-closed on a bonafide mid-week highlight.
For more details, demand more details--and STAY TUNED to any of your local Widows Affiliates for up-to-the-minute discrepancies and hard-to-find details!
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Blog Fire Update!
Welcome back to my BLOG!
I hope you have enjoyed this dry spell, although a chill fog persists on our foggy mountaintop. I am presently in Chatsworth, awaiting Michael Mazochi, who is picking me up to go to some kind of an acoustic performance at the Whiskey.
I am just so glad to see so many cool new blogs so cool many blogs so cool! Gotta go!
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Blog-to-Blog
Hi and lo there!, commandos and commandettes!
I was doing some blogging and I blog-read on Tedd's blog that his migraines have continued to plague him for a number of days. I think that sucks!
SOOOOOOOOOOO................
Here's what we do. Everybody knows that the best way to get rid of someone's migraines is to either make him or her hold his or her breath for an arguable and otherwise unattributable amount of time... Or to scare the shit out of him. Or her. Or some combination--or 'cocktail'--of therapies. I suggest choice) SCARE, because multiple courses of therapy might be administered by a stable population of willing agitators, such that the burden of care never weighs too heavily on a given caregiver.
So the next time you see Tedd... Why don't you spook out those migraines for'im?! Why not make it a "Halloween in January," mmm? Yeah!
♥Miller
I was doing some blogging and I blog-read on Tedd's blog that his migraines have continued to plague him for a number of days. I think that sucks!
SOOOOOOOOOOO................
Here's what we do. Everybody knows that the best way to get rid of someone's migraines is to either make him or her hold his or her breath for an arguable and otherwise unattributable amount of time... Or to scare the shit out of him. Or her. Or some combination--or 'cocktail'--of therapies. I suggest choice) SCARE, because multiple courses of therapy might be administered by a stable population of willing agitators, such that the burden of care never weighs too heavily on a given caregiver.
So the next time you see Tedd... Why don't you spook out those migraines for'im?! Why not make it a "Halloween in January," mmm? Yeah!
♥Miller
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Rainy Web Days
The past few days I've been bumming around Los Angeles with some good friends, trapped as I am away from the chilly mountainquarters of the Ranch by washout and debris. Los Angeles is in a cloud right now and wetness persists at all levels.
It's given me some time to put up this blog and attend to some web-related marginalia. I hope to improve my skills at these tasks as time goes on, so that Californians of every stripe and contour can better access the Premium Widows Content and Young Adult Erotica that they deserve, thanks to the overwhelming mandate of Proposition K22.
Stay DRY,
Miller
P.S.: I added a drawing pad near the bottom of the page. As far as I can tell, the 'save' function doesn't work, so you can feel free to draw without any overriding concern for posterity. Sometimes that can be a nice thing!
It's given me some time to put up this blog and attend to some web-related marginalia. I hope to improve my skills at these tasks as time goes on, so that Californians of every stripe and contour can better access the Premium Widows Content and Young Adult Erotica that they deserve, thanks to the overwhelming mandate of Proposition K22.
Stay DRY,
Miller
P.S.: I added a drawing pad near the bottom of the page. As far as I can tell, the 'save' function doesn't work, so you can feel free to draw without any overriding concern for posterity. Sometimes that can be a nice thing!
Friday, January 25, 2008
Face/Off... Part Two!
Special Thanks go to Matt Mangs for the helpful MS Paint tips!
...Only on computers!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Opera Buffa
I discovered this bit of information and thought I ought to disseminate:
"What is Opera Buffa?"
by Ted Sherman
article found here:
http://www.helium.com/tm/800121/several-years-mediterranean-cruise
Very interesting!
"What is Opera Buffa?"
by Ted Sherman
article found here:
http://www.helium.com/tm/800121/several-years-mediterranean-cruise
Several years ago, we were on a Mediterranean cruise that included a one-night stopover in Nice, on the southern coast of France. Instead of booking one of the overpriced oceanfront hotels, we decided to stay, for about one-third the price, in the charming, one-flight-up, 13-room Hotel de la Buffa, its rooms located above a group of stores in the downtown area. It turned out to be a good choice, because our room was clean and neat, and we had a little balcony where we sat and watched city morning scenes while enjoying the free in-room hotel breakfast.
When we checked out, we asked the clerk in our high school French what was the meaning of the name Hotel de la Buffa. "Oh, it isn't French. It's Italian", was the reply in perfect English. The explanation was that one of the downstairs stores had once been a small theater in the early 19th Century where popular musical plays were presented, called opera buffa. We knew and appreciated operas, such as the grand presentations of "Aida" and "La Traviata", but had never heard of this form before.
Further research since then has opened our eyes and ears to knowledge of opera buffa,a long-ago form of music performance that originated in rural Italy and spread to the cities of Southern Europe from the 17th through 19th Century. Their subject matter was often based on local customs and humor, and the music derived from farm and peasant traditions of storytelling and folk songs. The English word buffoon is based on buffa, and it describes the comic role of the main characters in many of the old musical plays.
Before the heavy drama and complex music of grand opera came in with Mozart and other highly-educated musicians, the earliest opera buffas emphasized simple poetry, music, buffoonery and fast patter. Some of its traditions survived into grand opera comic scores as in "The Barber of Seville", and beyond into the operettas of Gilbert and Sullivan, as in the humorous, tongue-twisting lyrics and fast-beat music in "The Mikado" and "HMS Pinafore".
Opera buffa has had different names throughout its history, including other Italian descriptions as dramma comico and dramma giocoso. At first performed as short comic plays in Italian town squares, they eventually included simple music, exaggerated action and lines spoken in regional dialect. They were originally performed by local singers and musicians, but eventually formed as permanent traveling troupes that went from city to city.
As opera buffa music and recitations became more complex, and the genre moved throughout Italy and into the rest of Europe, it evolved into France's opera comique and Germany's singspiel. Many were lengthened into longer and more dramatic performances, and today the most popular, such as "The Barber of Seville", have evolved to become part of most grand opera companies' repertoires.
***Very interesting!
Blog Beta: Flavor Savor
I can blog from any WHERE, and I can blog from any PLACE. Eachware I place, I put any another WHERE where I can any any other place.
That's where I run. You can't bottle good taste.
FLAVORFARM.
Freshness you can't flavor.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Hey There!
Your NUMERO UNO ticket to all things MILLER and WIDOW, AUDIO and VIDEO, ANALYTICAL and ALL THINGS CONSIDERABLE...
Coming Soonf!
Coming Soonf!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Blog Alpha: One Somnolent Gaze
Letter GO!, baby!Getter all shookOUT, there, baby!
I want to sleep in your dressesssszz.
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