Yellow Drum Machine!

Last night, we did Share.tv episode 4 with Calliope Quartet, which was awesome. Ricardo, the percussionist, actually played his face: he kept rubbing a mic across his stubble to make these crackly noises. It was so cool!

Also, I finished my feature on the Yellow Drum Machine by Frits Lyneborg from letsmakerobots.com. It turned out pretty well, I think.



I'm currently uploading the full episode onto Blip.tv. Usually, uploading an hour-long vid to the internet is a pain in the ass because it takes so long. But now that I've got my Asus Eee PC (I named it Mylo), I can at least do that same task at the bar across the street from the station!

Cheers!

Facebook raised a very good question

Thoughts?

at home again

I had quite a weekend last weekend. Went to NYC to shoot part I of my feature on DJ Rupture for the first episode of Share.tv. Rupture has a pretty sweet space in Sunset Park: cozy and neat, with not nearly as much intimidating stuff/gear as I would have expected. In fact, Rupture was a real adult, which was a relief. I'm editing now-- there's plenty of good bits in our interview about beat-matching and dj-ing, software, and what's more exciting, intellectually stimulating discussion about the need for visual feedback in electronic music, emotionally honest performance, and risk vs. spectacle onstage. This should be good! Tune into the show on February 17th to see it in its entirety. Big thanks to Thenji for her expertise on the shoot, and I hope I get to work with her again...

I stayed with Craniv, which was so much fun. Craniv and I have been friends since we were 4 years old: our parents are best friends, and we grew up in eachother's households together-- one of our parents holding tight to both of our hands as they whizzed us around the city everyday from one afterschool program to another (piano, German, painting, dance, circus arts).

Craniv was there when I got the chicken pox, when the house caught on fire, when the dog died, when I started smoking, when I graduated, when I graduated from the next thing, and now here we are today. Cranny Boy is an amazing painter and sculpter, who just returned from his first residency at this gallery in Maine, where he spent one month getting paid to paint and be adored. (His website is in the works, but here's where it's temporarily parked. Better pics of his works will be up within a few weeks.)


It was an incredibly positive weekend. I got our parents together, who spent all of Saturday evening giggling like two schoolgirls. Not only was that adorable, but I was so unspeakably moved to see my mother so happy. On Sunday, Craniv introduced me to his friend, fellow painter and video artist Kevin Yang, and we went to an opening on East Broadway.

Nothing much was happening there, except for a free beer, so the three of us chilled on the couch (which was the installation... all of it...) and watched some of Kevin's vids on his computer. (Was this rude?) They were pretty good, so I whipped out my thumb drive, and took them for my show. The transaction was unnaturally zippy and no-fuss: I wondered if he thought I was being pushy. But maybe that's just how Civilization 2.0 is supposed to work.

Got to catch up with old friends, and meet new ones. Was totally surprised to see Kentl at the Odessa Cafe, and glad to know her arm is healing nicely, foot-and-a-half long scar notwithstanding.


Next weekend, I come back. This time to shoot at MTAA's Over the Opening, where Kreigspiel premieres. Also, it's WYNA's BIRTHDAY so we're probably going to eat lots of meat in celebration!!!

Oh and BTW, I got the best shoes evar.


Bis bald...

No, I wasn't making fun of you, Andrew Boch

Saturday night, Noah and I went to go see Ernie and the Automatics, this ca-razy blues cover band who I can picture playing at someone's wedding (not mine), and whose line-up consists of two members emeritus of the band Boston (Barry Goudreau and Sib Hashian), an event photographer who actually hands out her business card at the gig, and Ernie Boch, Jr., the Northeastern automobile industry giant. (Come on Down!)

I actually never heard anything by the Automatics, and the only song I know from Boston ("know" being used in the loosest of senses) is Forplay/Longest Time because it's the Imposible Song on Rock Band, which is a game we like to play in the living room at Park Street. Really, I just like the idea of Ernie Boch, Jr. He's a guy who has the balls to create his own aura of superstardom and foist it upon us. I can respect that. (Also, one of my friends is his nephew, a fact I did not know until after my little Ernie-crush was kindled.)

The concert was at the Middle East, with the Automatics playing the downstairs venue, and White Williams playing upstairs. When I went to go get our tickets, the girl behind the counter could not find my name on the will-call list. Turns out, she assumed I was on the will-call list for White's show (since according to some sources, I am a "hipster"). I corrected her, and she actually apologized, saying "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stereotype". In all fairness, I did want to see White Williams, so I responded "It's okay, we're trying to be ironic." I was kind of pressing to go upstairs after the Automatics played to see White Williams, too. But that didn't pan out.

Anyways, we got to meet Ernie later that night; he was a really chill guy. We thought that talking about knowing his nephews could be a great ice-breaker, but turns out, Ernie was so nice and kind of jazzed to talk to fans that we didn't need the way-in. Also, we had the impression that he only vaguely recalled who Andrew is. Somehow, the night ended with me, Noah, my roommate Emily, and some guy she met on the Something Awful forums piling into Ernie's limo to listen to a hot new unreleased single by the Automatics. This was monumental because (1) it was the first Automatics song that isn't a cover, and (2) we noticed that where most rock stars' limos would be filled to the hilt with liquor of all kinds, Ernie's limo held ONLY CANDY, leading us to realize that Andrew's extraordinary dependency on sugar is indeed hereditary. And a good time was had by all.

Mr. No-show

Mr. No-show
Originally uploaded by lovers v haters

Chinese DNS error

(thx eli!)

Sunbathing for Christmas: I could get used to that...

So, I went to Haiti over the holiday. Vacation? Well, I guess a little bit. Otherwise, I was shooting pics and vids for Longchamp Charities, an amazing little 501(c)(3) founded by a great friend of mine, Marjorie Longchamp, and her best friend, Béatrice Brice. They operate on a very simple principle: Haitian children would have a much better chance at success if there was a way to eliminate the basic barriers to their advancement. It's hard for children to be children, and to grow into functional adults, if they are encumbered from the start by lack of food, shelter, and security. Longchamp Charities, or L'école de Mme. Bébé, as they say there, grants children with these very simple things, and all they ask for in return is that they go to school.

Some 70-odd kids live with Bébé on her sprawling property in Thomassin, Haiti, in what looks like, to me, some post-civilization Carthaginian neverland. It's beautiful. And although it recalled the most exciting of my Lord of the Flies fantasies, there was very rigid structure to the kids' days and nights. Schooling plays a central role there; kids will stay up till past midnight studying if they have not learned their lessons fully, even on Christmas. They drill eachother when they're bored on multiplication tables and French grammar, in preparation for any of Bébé's feared drills.

Of course, I had my reservations about going to Haiti in the first place. I heard many horror stories about what happens to people in Haiti, both from the "media", and from my hosts themselves. Bébé herself, was kidnapped 2 years ago, and shot in the liver. She was stuck in a traffic jam, at a somewhat reasonable hour in the day, in a very busy intersection. They pointed a machine gun at her head, and forced her out of her car. Three hours later, she was found lying in the street three blocks from the site of her abduction, and people just stepped over her body as she lie bleeding. Her life was saved, but she still bears a nasty scar, and is incredibly prone to infection. I asked her if she'd ever buy a gun to protect herself, and her children. She said no, because she doesn't want God to ever question her faith in Him. As you can probably surmise, Bébé is a force to be reckoned with.

My trip was, above all, eye-opening. I could write pages and pages about my time there, but I don't believe that would do it justice, and nor do I want to cast any sort of mystery over the land, its people, or my time there. I'm just lucky I got to see it. I took about a gazillion pics and vids while there, and it's all up on my flickr account. Here's a guide to the photo sets I made:

L'école de Mme. Bébé

This set contains lots of pics of the grounds. We're trying to drum up about $10,000 for repairs to the grounds, which will include finishing up the top two stories of the house, and turning the bottom floors into a mess hall and dormitory for the kids. Bébé's longterm goal for the organization is to hire more in-house teachers who can supplement the kid's learning in school, teach them practical trades like sewing, cooking, auto maintenance and such, and who can mentor the kids. We'd like to be able to accommodate these new hires on the top floors of the house, and move the kids into the lower floors. Also, they'd serve as private rooms for any volunteers we have on the property.

School

Here are some pics demonstrating what schooling is like for some of the Longchamp Charities kids. Although the kids were on holiday when I arrived, they were still studying ahead: getting a head start of next trimester's lessons. The girls featured in this set are all at the top of their class, and were rewarded with a special overnight trip to Cavaillon right before Christmas.

Cavaillon!

On December 22, we took a trip to a beautiful town called Cavaillon, 4 hours north-east of Port-au-Prince. OMG we were 15 in an SUV for 4 hours, it was ridiculous. Seven of the girls were packed in the back of the car, one girl was sitting on my lap in the front passenger's seat. Halfway through the trip, she vomited all over me, totally squashing any urges to procreate that I might have previously harbored. We stayed at the town judge's house, who also owns the town radio station and rec center. This trip was special, because two of the girls, Arnilde and Christhilde, are from there, and they got to see their family for the first time in three years. The girls' family, who were so proud of their daughters, and happy to know they have been taken care of under Bébé's supervision, gave us loads of peanut butter, sugar cane, chickens, and a turkey to take home with us. This was a very warm gesture. However, spending 4 hours in a cramped SUV with 2 live chickens, a screaming turkey, and 11 sugar cane sucking kids was kind of the last thing I wanted to do.

Bébé's Kids!

Finally, here are some great shots of the kids. Believe me, they're an amazing bunch of little people: fun-loving, happy, and inquisitive. Just like any kids. It was a lot of fun to spend my holiday with them, and I felt honored by their welcome.

BTW, if any of these pics have stirred the philanthropic bone in your body, feel free to support us by donating via PayPal here. What's beautiful about this organization, is that it's not one that hinges on your pity: these kids are being given a chance to make it, and also, equally importantly, they're given a chance to just be kids. They're doing such great work out there: let's hope they can continue it!

Maeghan came to town

Maeghan came to town
Originally uploaded by lovers v haters

Maegh came to visit totally out of the blue to crash a swanky party at some artsy hedge-funder's loft. I've missed her so much. She keeps me dreaming.

More Screenshots

Got a skype call from Sean, one of my best friends who has, like the majority of them, moved to China.

In this sequence, Sean is explaining the 5 greatest Roman emperors.

AKA's got a blog now

Because he wants to be me. His blog is here.

An Enrico Gifford

At Eric's last-day-at-DESCO party at the Pint, Number #1 (Gelsinger) was guilt-tripped into giving Eric a massage. I made a gifford.

del.icio.us-ly funny

a screenshot taken from my network on del.icio.us

The Office WebCam Screenshot of the Day

Today's game: high contrast/low contrast!





I now have a flickr set dedicated to this very series. Just so you know...

Amon Tobin shakes his butt!

Oh wow oh wow I saw Amon Tobin at the Grammercy Theater last nite with Jonny and Heather!!!



This was such a great show, and everything was perfect, even down to the minute details, such as not having to wait on line to use the restroom at all, and nobody had peed all over the toilet seat either! Good times! Amon was amazing; it was my first time seeing him live, and I had no clue how adorable he is performing. DUDE, he SHAKES HIS BUTT to the beat! Opening for him was P-Love, who was kind of a n00b, but he did really well, and chatted up the crowd throughout his whole set. It was kinda like how, in college, there was this kinda nerdy audio guy who lived down the hall, and sometimes you would stop by his room and he would spazz out trying to impress you. It felt more like that than an actual DJ set. It was cool.
Amon Tobin played a set with 7.1 surround sound, which was mind-blowing. Like, every so often, you'd hear this small shout, and you'd think it was coming from the crowd, but then it would grow and morph, and take flight and flutter around you. I don't know how he was doing that, but maybe it had to do with this mysterious glowing blue box he had on stage that seemed to have no other purpose in his show other than to fuck things up.



After the show, Jonny, Heather, and I went to this bar at the Chelsea Hotel, where I saw an interesting looking switchboard from the golden days of telephone operation. Only at the Chelsea.



Jonny and I, true to form, got into a drunken fight about the merits of creating software that applies a detailed taxonomy to the myriad sound samples in your library, so you can call them up on-a-whim while improvising. I doubt it was interesting to anyone but us, and maybe to on-lookers totally miffed at these two idiots screaming about file-naming protocol.




My fotos of last nights event aren't really that great, but you can check them out on my flickr if you'd like. So instead, I'll leave you with a picture of this random-ass parade float I found on 116th street and Lenox avenue.



I think it has something to do with maintaining family values in the Community. Wait-- is that an ELECTRIC CHAIR? Hottt.

Bizzy come een like a mascot at that boasie place!

Last night, Vicki and I went to Gelsinger's friend's art show cum poetry reading. It wasn't that bad, but Vicki and I were acting rude, kinda on purpose. (Sorry!)



Gels' friend Ian has his art shown at the Johnathan Shorr gallery; his art is really intricate, as if he was painstakingly recreating graph paper out of wood and gold foil. I liked it a lot.



Gels did some poetry about memories of the Carribbean. (I think?)



In a very sing-songy voice, he shared his Carribbean memories of salt folded into the sea like scent folded into a woman's body, NaCl, memories, the Carribean. I don't know, I just don't know.



I love Gels a lot, he's a great friend and he's super smart and talented, but last night, sitting there, I felt, well, ejaculated on; it was a self-centered, ostentatious, boasie kind of poetry jam, and I wasn' feeling it.

Vicki is crying, because to laugh would have been rude.






Then Damian (who's an amazing guy) read some of his "disposable" poetry from this awesome book he pressed himself. (Damian does his own pressings, and I really love his poetry-as-objects stuff. I'm a fan.)



His poems were quite good, and funny in his Damian-sort-of-way. However, I know that if I rose to Damian's challenge of mashing down his purported "disposable" poetry, his little object books, he would totally cry. So I didn't appreciate his pyaka. He was straight fronting. I didn't call his bluff, but I was tempted, and one more glass of wine and I might have really embarassed myself.

Robert Kochik, whom I've heard read before, and greatly admire, was there; it was good to see him, but after having sat through Gelsinger's song poetry with a (semi-) straight face, I couldn't pay attention to Kochik's reading. I guess this is an appology to Gels, if he's reading. I just couldn't sit through that stuff last night. I was like a total pinky; it was that bad.

Thursday is Bjork Day!

Vicki Blogged About Bjork So I'm Gonna Too

I love Bjork. Don't get me wrong, I do. But, for some reason, she always appears in my dreams whenever I'm having "issues", and she tortures the hell out of me.

When I was engaged to a very bad French man, and we were doing a long-distance thing, I had this dream that he was cheating on me with Bjork.

I woke up at 4 in the AM, I was all disoriented; I forgot I was sleeping in another person's house, and I had to use the bathroom. It took me about 5 minutes to stumble my way into the bathroom. And when I turned on the light, a magazine was lying open on the sink: open to an article about Bjork, and her neotenus jelly-face all looking at me, triumphant and laughing! I HATE Bjork. (I love Bjork.)

Anyways, Vicki seems to take a different view about the whole being-cockqueened-by -Bjork argument. Here's the dialectic:



Okay that's all for now!

China Update No. 1

Now, in an attempt to boost my readership, I have enlisted the help of my friend Adam Lanphier to bring you all the latest updates from our friends-to-the-north: China. Adam is a freelance journalist for the biggest expat rag in Beijing, called "That's Beijing", or "That's BJ" for short. I had a look at That's BJ's local event listings for interesting "assignments" for Adam to document, all in the name of greater cultural understanding.

Here's a little info about Adam: He's tall and lovely to look at. He's a virgo. No fatties need apply.

I selected, as his first assignment, something billed as the "Fourth Minimal Dance Party" at a bar called Big Ben or something, I don't remember. Anyway, here is the photo of the place; it is, for some reason, called the "Sweet Smelling Village".



Adam actually hasn't told me what it was like, other than that it was not as minimal as he thought it would be, and that the DJ was cute. Now Adam is fighting with a real estate agent, which I suspect is another story waiting to unfold.

This isn't really a "cultural update" of any particular interest. We're still working out the kinks. Update #2 will be better.