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Pure joy. Sure, at first, this 4 min. video is only great. But about 3/4 through, it just gets greater: Bill Monroe & Doc Watson “Sally Goodin” from 1990 Delaware Bluegrass Festival
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"There’s only one rule I know of: You’ve got to be kind."
Kurt Vonnegut, cited in Austin Kleon’s Steal Like an Artist. Einstein would concur. (via explore-blog)
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RIP MCA
My friend and comrade-in-comedy has written a loving tribute to his friend, Adam Yauch. Please have a look.
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Stroboscopic exposures of Alfred Hitchcock directing Shadow of a Doubt (1942)
(Source: waltdisneywithblood)
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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
“Down, Lucine”
For the last several months, we’ve been making a record and asking if our friends and fans would be willing to donate to that process.
Well, we’re just about done making that record, which means we’ll be removing the donation site this Monday, April 9. If you had planned to or wanted to donate, you’ve got a few days left. In terms of “rewards,” there’s everything from a donors-only site where you can hear the mixes of the album as they progress to a private show, to a signed guitar. So on, so forth.
Here’s one mostly-finished song from the record. Looking forward to finishing the whole thing.
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Rent Matt’s house!
My Little House Is For Rent!
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This 1922 Craftsman bungalow has been completely remodeled and restored. It is technically a one bedroom but the garage out back has been converted into a studio/second room. It’s small but perfect for a young couple or single professional. This place will charm your socks off and then put them back on because it’s so cozy. Located near the Rose Park area of Long Beach. Available May 1, possibly sooner.
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$1500 a month includes:
• Small private yard in front
• Private patio/yard in back
• Private street parking (one spot)
• Washer and dryer
• Gas grill
• New stainless steel refrigerator, microwave, and stove
• New hardwood floors (not laminate)
• New windows/door casements/molding
• New kitchen tile and cabinets w/built-in wine rack
• New furnace
• Landscaping gardener
• Optional security system (service is on your dime)
• Fios and DirecTV ready
The neighborhood is only so-so, but the house couldn’t be nicer.
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PLEASE SHARE WITH YOUR FRIENDS – I put a ton of care into this place and would love to rent it to someone that will take good care of it.
Email matt-at-hotspurink.com.
Thanks to Zachary Childers for the photos.
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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Cheney released from the hospital today. Or, as his doctor said:
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Super cool movie posters by Alex Clark
A Collection of My Saul Bass Inspired Artworks.
Don’t be Angry because i’ve already posted these individually, look! i made a Scott Pilgrim vs the World one just for you :)
Like and/or Reblog, and you will officially be awesome <3
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Random thoughts, ten years on.
I was surprised to wake to a gorgeous day after a rainstorm the night before; hearing the news of a plane or something hitting the WTC; a phone call from friend in WI & then landline not working; finally leaving my apartment to gather at Mark & Ximena’s; The drifting smoke cloud was already creeping over the neighborhood by then & our local councilman was on the sidewalk offering dust masks to passersby; getting through to my mom on the phone & her telling me “this is how WW2 felt” the horror as we watched the towers fall; setting out to find a hospital to give blood; carrying my transistor radio (like when i was 12) hearing about “possibly 8 other hijacked planes” seeing ash-covered people walking off the Brooklyn Bridge; buying bags of apples to bring to the blood drive at the Marriott; signing up for potential disaster-relief services at Brooklyn Hts LICH hospital (forms asked things like “do you have computer skills?”) the group finally realizing we wouldn’t be giving blood or doing any major triage scene work in brooklyn heights; tentatively eating lunch; my sister getting through on my cel phone; walking around prospect park the rest of the day so quiet & peaceful; slovin’s b-day party at a bar; horror stories from film crew guys who’d been called to provide extra lights at the site that night; the weirdness of the next two days with our group gathering, splitting, regrouping every few hours trying to comprehend what was happening and what to do; the WTC office papers blown into my apartment…
somewhat chronological:
I had gotten up around 8:00 am; my friend Mark had agreed to edit together a soundtrack cd for the show Andrea & I were doing that night but I had to get there by 9 since he had to leave for work soon after. His place was only a few blocks away but I remember feeling rushed, pulling cds and making selects. I remember how gorgeous it looked outside, surprising recovery from the rainy night i went to bed with. Had coffee & knew i had to get a move on. Shower & checked radio for weather just in case the rain was returning. (I normally listened to public radio WFUV or WNYC but that morning I remember specifically tuning to 1010 WINS am radio since the weather announcement was frequent.) There was an abrupt break with all the “official” sounding newsbreak music fanfare & I remember thinking “God, they are so over-dramatic & make such a big deal about everything, I bet it’s that Bush or Dick Cheney is in town or something” then the solemn, 1950’s-ish quaint, announcer saying “Breaking news, a plane has crashed into the World Trade Center…”
So i turned on the tv and flipped through the netwroks but everything was normal, just morning shows, not even a news crawl announcement at the bottom. i went quickly up and down the channels ny1, nbc, cbs, abc, cnn, headline news and finally the 3rd time i got to ny1 (“new york 1” the local all-news channel) they were showing the hole in the tower but still saying it was a small plane and speculating about pilot error or air traffic control, etc. then we saw the 2nd plane, live and we knew something more was going on; but the news people still thought it might be long island air traffic control…
Standing in my apartment, shocked & confused but not yet scared or freaking out, i think it was moments after the 2nd plane hit, my landline phone rang it was my friend Andy calling from Madison, WI; we still weren’t sure why the plane(s) had crashed but he wanted to say “be safe” etc. we talked for a couple minutes & he wished me an early happy birthday. then I remember trying to convince one of my roommates who was on his way out, to not bother trying to get to work since he’d have to transfer to the A train which would take him directly under the WTC. He went anyway but wasn’t in any danger since the trains were already re-routed by then…
Before that 1st plane hit, i was having one of those mornings where you wake up already slightly on edge. Not feeling bad, but the residue of the night before is lingering. There had been a big rainstorm the night before. I was at Andrea’s loft in Flatbush finishing props and stuff for a show scheduled for Tuesday night. She lived with Jason & Gigi and they were sort-of gently refereeing our last-minute pre-show squabbles. I remember it was pouring & luckily got a cab pretty quickly back to Carroll Gardens. I don’t remember how late it was but i remember feeling crappy / guilty about arguing while trying to get ready for a comedy show. Reminded me about tense moments with our sketch group (the bert fershners.)
Once it was clear what was going on, I remember just wanting to do something, to be with my friends and offer our help wherever possible. As I left my apartment to gather at Mark & Ximena’s the drifting smoke cloud was already creeping over the neighborhood, ash was falling like dark, creepy snow & I remember how weird it was that our local councilman was on the sidewalk already offering dust masks to passersby; (i remember thinking that’s bizarre: he must have run to the nearby home depot already unless he had a supply of face masks in his office?) The 1st tower fell as I got to Mark & Ximena’s; Obviously the shock turned to horror & sadness. I got through to my mom on the phone & she was sad but stoic, she told me “this is how WW2 felt” We were glued to the tv as we watched the 2nd tower fall; We noticed the sky darkening, the smoke cloud was now smoke, ash & debris & it was quickly enveloping the neighborhood. We decided to set out to the Brooklyn Heights Long Island College Hospital to give blood or do whatever to help. I was carrying my transistor radio (like when i was 12) we kept hearing about “possibly 8 other hijacked planes.” We were weirdly more determined than scared. When we got to the hospital (& then another & a third, I think) there was nothing to do. We signed up for potential disaster-relief services at Brooklyn Hts LICH (forms asked things like “do you have computer skills?”) Then we heard the Marriott right near the bridges was setting up a triage site/blood donation center. There were still ash-covered people walking off the Brooklyn & Manhattan Bridges at that point but no injured; we signed up to give blood and I ran over to a store & bought bags of apples to bring to the blood donors. we were eventually told we wouldn’t be giving blood or doing any major triage scene work in Brooklyn Heights. We found a place on Montague to eat lunch, it was pretty somber. We ran into our friend Todd Londagin of “The Flying Neutrinos” we’d all last seen him a few weeks earlier playing trombone & tap dancing 106 stories up at the WTC at “Windows On The World.” One of my sisters in WI got through on my cel phone, which was bizarre I remember how oddly calm I felt talking to family so far away. Then a few of us walked around prospect park for a while. It was so quiet & peaceful. I remember seeing little kids and saying I was glad they didn’t know what was going on. We went to Slovin’s b-day party at a bar that night; it was of course, odd but good to be with friends/acquaintances. At dinner the next night there were horror stories from film crew guys who’d been called to provide extra lights at the site that night; there was this amoeba-like flow over the next two weird days with our group; gathering, splitting, regrouping every few hours trying to comprehend what was happening and what to do… I remember gathering up some singed WTC office papers from the floor which had blown into my apartment…
For our small community of friends, the next 48 hours were all about hanging out and keeping one-another company while we navigated the weirdness. Most of us lived within a few blocks of each other, so it wasn’t hard to check-in frequently. A number of us have September birthdays & traditionally September is one birthday event after another so we tried to smile & laugh through the horror & shock. It was bizarre. I think my mom was right when she compared it to wartime; we in New York didn’t have a monopoly on fear & shock but we sure felt uniquely at risk. The uncertainty of what might come next was profoundly unsettling. Most of us would spend a great deal of time either crying (privately & publicly) or comforting friends, loved-ones & even strangers who were… I remember it was weeks (maybe months) before I stopped waking up with a sense of sadness & i usually cried before getting on with my day. I remember several instances riding the train or walking on the street, making eye contact with a stranger & sharing a knowing look, then either smiling to reassure us both or just crying. And all the “missing person” signs & posters; hastily but lovingly homemade; these photos of happy, smiling people. You’d see them everywhere & faces & names became familiar. Some subway stations and other public spaces were so covered with the posters they looked like an art exhibit. Then those spots became memorials. Hundreds of candles, flowers, cards just appeared. New Yorkers remember the terrible smell in the air from the site (it lasted months) but when you were within about a block of say Union Square Park, all you could smell was candle wax.
On the 12th or 13th Graham & Emily called (they live across the street) & said they were going to get supplies to donate & drive them over to the Community Bookstore on 7th street in Prospect Park. I remember running into one of the improv guys from the Yale “Purple Crayon / Pollyannas” group, Mike, there. I ended up commandeering Graham’s truck for the next several days to deliver stuff from the Community Bookstore to the staging/storage area at Canal street. It was odd that just my hand-written sign on the dashboard allowed me to deliver stuff down the restricted lane of the Westside highway. And I felt so guilty that I was on the route where so many people were cheering passing vehicles of workers heading to to site to do real work…
