There are very few things in this world that I consider remarkably wonderful.
The work of Robert Frost.
Sanitation Laws of the early 20th century.
A freshly opened pack of Bicycle playing cards.
But one thing hit me over the head yesterday and I have to get it out. I love a dag blasted Zero Bar.
From it's deliciously sweetened White chocolate shell to it's oh-so-nutty caramel center I can't find a single thing wrong with it. I got one from the student book store and I think that has been the only item I've ever gotten there that wasn't overpriced and actually made me happy when I looked at it. If Hershey's ever changes the wrapper I'll kill them. Doritos and other brands have had the sad misfortune of being "hippified" by the marketers at their companies but leave the stinkin' Zero bar alone. Come on! I think me and like 3 hobos are the only 4 people left in the world that eat or even notice a Zero bar anymore. Keep that retro 70's logo on the matte silver background and I'll keep coming back for those king sizes.
Until next time, stay classy Wilmington!
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Hunky Dorey
The Hummingbird's Journal
Chia 3...
Originally uploaded by The Sloan.
Happy Valentine's day to all!
Above is the Chia that I completed a few weeks back. This picture is old, actually. The bunny has been stripped down to his bare clay at this point but I thought it a friendly gesture to post a photo of him in his hay day for all to see.
!WARNING!: Single girls may be offended by this post.
Aside from the first line of this post I will make no mention of the name of this day for fear of setting off thousands of single females into a tyrannical rampage. I miss the days of single girls openly admitting that they were sad because they had no date for the special day. I think something happened in the late nineties and all of the sudden, single girls were struck with the urge to vehemently attack love's holiday, calling it "singles awareness day" as if it didn't even deserve it's true name. Of course there is a release clause somewhere that states as soon as they get a date, they are to embrace the holiday fully and expect lots of presents.
Who waved their magical wand and made it a girls day anyway? No one feels sorry for the computer nerd guy wheezing in the back corner that's always dreamed of having a girlfriend to take out on Valentines' day but NEVER HAD ONE. Then the first time a popular (never been without a boyfriend) girl goes dateless on the big day she's surrounded by cooing girls calling her a "poor honey." Even school organizations are handing out carnations to every girl that walks by....JUST in case they don't have a guy to give them one. The guys...we get shafted.
and I'm tired of hearing this...
"YEAH! I'm going out with my GIRLS and we're going to PARTY IT UP! WOOOOOOO! We don't NEED a guy to have fun! Let's go girls! NO BOYS ALLOWED!!"
...with all the unnecessary yelling and awkward undertones I have to wonder if the girls spewing these all too common declarations are trying to convince me...or themselves.
Girls, if you don't have a date, don't go out with your friends or "stick it to cupid" or anything like that...come on now. Have some cheetos, watch "The best of friends, vol. 4" in your room and it'll all be over soon. From there you can hope for better luck next year.
~Your affectionate Uncle Sloantape
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Smelly Anderson
This is my update....it is super awesome...you love updates...
I'm sorry there isn't much to say here but I can recommend a few websites for your web-wasting time.
Apple - Switch
Obiwan's UFO-Free Paranormal Page > True Ghost Stories
allmusic
Now go waste some time
(By the way Jeffrey, that whole every day thing was just for last week!)
I'm sorry there isn't much to say here but I can recommend a few websites for your web-wasting time.
Apple - Switch
Obiwan's UFO-Free Paranormal Page > True Ghost Stories
allmusic
Now go waste some time
(By the way Jeffrey, that whole every day thing was just for last week!)
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Not Enough Lemon on the Lemon Chicken
Ah well, I tried anyway!
So I didn't post every day.
And one of my posts was lame and stuff. I'll make up for it...I'll make up for it right here and now by writing a poem about the first nown...first verb...and first two adjectives that pop up on a page when I "I'm feeling lucky" search for "Clap board" on Google. Here goes...
Noun=Clapboard
Verb=using
Adjectives=finest, professional
14 line sonnet...aaaaand GO
The Innocent Clapboard
Clapboard, you with wooden clappers striped on a hinge
always in motion as the sun rises and sets, on film
often you're marking the call that makes the crew twinge
then movement falling hollow on false floors and doors
the world bends to see whatever will happen to them
happily parted, or shot, or loving each other more.
Clapboards never act as though they can't see it coming
mattering not, cut from the shot and thus forgot
by countless spectators worldwide, dazed in chairs
Even the one who snaps it there, using it on the back lot
won't notice the light soaked dreams before him aren't breathing air
what human can, with imagination burning hot?
How professional are we who craft the finest lies
and sell a ticket that, with a spirit, dies?
How's that for trippy? If this poem makes you angry in it's lameness just leave me an angry comment. See Ya!
So I didn't post every day.
And one of my posts was lame and stuff. I'll make up for it...I'll make up for it right here and now by writing a poem about the first nown...first verb...and first two adjectives that pop up on a page when I "I'm feeling lucky" search for "Clap board" on Google. Here goes...
Noun=Clapboard
Verb=using
Adjectives=finest, professional
14 line sonnet...aaaaand GO
The Innocent Clapboard
Clapboard, you with wooden clappers striped on a hinge
always in motion as the sun rises and sets, on film
often you're marking the call that makes the crew twinge
then movement falling hollow on false floors and doors
the world bends to see whatever will happen to them
happily parted, or shot, or loving each other more.
Clapboards never act as though they can't see it coming
mattering not, cut from the shot and thus forgot
by countless spectators worldwide, dazed in chairs
Even the one who snaps it there, using it on the back lot
won't notice the light soaked dreams before him aren't breathing air
what human can, with imagination burning hot?
How professional are we who craft the finest lies
and sell a ticket that, with a spirit, dies?
How's that for trippy? If this poem makes you angry in it's lameness just leave me an angry comment. See Ya!
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Wilson the Wombat Says Hey
You guessed it. This is pretty much filler to say that I have an update for every day. Kind of pathetic isn't it? My next one will be good.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Hamas and Cheese Sandwitch
I said I'd update every day so for today's post...here is a short thingy I wrote for Creative Nonfiction class...enjoy, if you can...
Against the General Implausibility of Old Musicals
I’m a film student and as such I have the privilege of being forcefully exposed to films from every famous filmmaker, in every part of the world and yes, even from every specific genre they both have to offer. Today I had the opportunity in my American Cinema class to sit back and enjoy 1933’s “Footlight Parade.”
Right at the start here I should mention that there is something called suspension of disbelief, the entertainment/realism trade off or something to that degree which is supposed to excuse a reasonably large amount nonsense within a story. I can speak on behalf of it, it’s certainly some good stuff. It makes it possible for audiences to enjoy totally crazy things like space adventures or the bad guys always getting shot just before they pull the trigger, and of course the list goes on. In the case of these musicals, however, I have trouble seeing how anyone forgave them of their blatant mockery of reality.
Given the experience I now have with big budget Hollywood musicals I must come to the conclusion that Americans of the 1920s and 30’s possessed a higher level of this bull malarkey accepting agent. The number of musicals produced during this time period really leaves little doubt of that. Of course I say this must be true because musicals at the time simply didn’t care about any of the rules of general sensibility. Forget realistic, if realism were a monkey they slapped the monkey, filled it’s position with a chicken in monkey suit, then played it off as if the audience would be crazy to think anything of it.
The first attack that someone might vault on these old time musicals is the fact that song happens anywhere, at any time, under any circumstance. I’m not going to go there simply because people who enjoy musicals have a good defense. Once all’s said and done good old escapism, or perhaps a simple desire to be entertained suffice in excusing that. I’d say the problem still doesn’t come in when the farmer in the background or the goofy stage hand starts to randomly dance perfectly in sync with the principle actors. No, that’s not it either. There has to be a line drawn somewhere and I draw it at about the point where the whole town or crew casts aside their pitchforks or their brooms, joins hands, and dance circles around one another.
The real substance of musicals is plain and simple, escapism and I know that. In light of the depression it stands to reason that people needed to escape from reality in any way they could. I don’t feel that the elaborate musical should be cast away from all of filmmaking for all of time, surely it has it’s place, but I’m just remaining hopeful that perhaps it’s time has past. After all, if we don’t need anything to escape into we might be doing ok. As long as 40 some odd dancers aren’t suddenly synchronize swimming in a mysteriously fabricated Olympic swimming pool adorned with golden fountains, I feel a little more confident in the state of the American psyche. Times must be decent when we don’t want to get away that badly.
Against the General Implausibility of Old Musicals
I’m a film student and as such I have the privilege of being forcefully exposed to films from every famous filmmaker, in every part of the world and yes, even from every specific genre they both have to offer. Today I had the opportunity in my American Cinema class to sit back and enjoy 1933’s “Footlight Parade.”
Right at the start here I should mention that there is something called suspension of disbelief, the entertainment/realism trade off or something to that degree which is supposed to excuse a reasonably large amount nonsense within a story. I can speak on behalf of it, it’s certainly some good stuff. It makes it possible for audiences to enjoy totally crazy things like space adventures or the bad guys always getting shot just before they pull the trigger, and of course the list goes on. In the case of these musicals, however, I have trouble seeing how anyone forgave them of their blatant mockery of reality.
Given the experience I now have with big budget Hollywood musicals I must come to the conclusion that Americans of the 1920s and 30’s possessed a higher level of this bull malarkey accepting agent. The number of musicals produced during this time period really leaves little doubt of that. Of course I say this must be true because musicals at the time simply didn’t care about any of the rules of general sensibility. Forget realistic, if realism were a monkey they slapped the monkey, filled it’s position with a chicken in monkey suit, then played it off as if the audience would be crazy to think anything of it.
The first attack that someone might vault on these old time musicals is the fact that song happens anywhere, at any time, under any circumstance. I’m not going to go there simply because people who enjoy musicals have a good defense. Once all’s said and done good old escapism, or perhaps a simple desire to be entertained suffice in excusing that. I’d say the problem still doesn’t come in when the farmer in the background or the goofy stage hand starts to randomly dance perfectly in sync with the principle actors. No, that’s not it either. There has to be a line drawn somewhere and I draw it at about the point where the whole town or crew casts aside their pitchforks or their brooms, joins hands, and dance circles around one another.
The real substance of musicals is plain and simple, escapism and I know that. In light of the depression it stands to reason that people needed to escape from reality in any way they could. I don’t feel that the elaborate musical should be cast away from all of filmmaking for all of time, surely it has it’s place, but I’m just remaining hopeful that perhaps it’s time has past. After all, if we don’t need anything to escape into we might be doing ok. As long as 40 some odd dancers aren’t suddenly synchronize swimming in a mysteriously fabricated Olympic swimming pool adorned with golden fountains, I feel a little more confident in the state of the American psyche. Times must be decent when we don’t want to get away that badly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
