Gorilla Face

clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick

rah — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 15:38:50 +0000

This is actually my third submission to bike shorts. I plan on documenting the crowd response again.

Man is Five

rah — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 03:38:52 +0000

But with the throttle screwed on there is only the barest of margin, and no room at all for mistakes. It has to be done right…and that’s when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms. You can barely see at a hundred; the tears blow back so fast that they vaporize before they get to your ears. The only sounds are wind and a dull roar floating back from the mufflers. you watch the white line and try to lean with it…howling through a turn to the right, then to the left and down the long hill to Pacifica…letting off now, watching for cops, but only until the next dark stretch and another few seconds on the edge…The Edge…There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The others–the living—are those who pushed their control as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later.

Immortality, Paperclips

rah — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 04:56:40 +0000

You take your information, your encyclopedia text, and you transpose it into numerics. You assign everything a two-digit number, periods and commas included. 00 is a blank, A is 01, B is 02, and so on. Then after you’ve lined them all up, you put a decimal point before the whole lot. So now you’ve got a very long sub-decimal fraction. 0.17300631. . . Next, you engrave a mark at exactly that point along the toothpick. If 0.5000′s your exact middle on the toothpick, then 0.3333′s got to be a third of the way from the tip.

That’s how you can fit data of any length on a toothpick. Only theoretically, of course. No existing technology can actually engrave so fine a point. But this should give you a perspective on what tautologies are like. Say time is the length of your toothpick. The amount of information you can pack into it doesn’t have anything to do with the length. Make the fraction as long as you want. It’ll be a repeating decimal, why, then it is eternal. You understand what that means? The problem’s the software, no relation to the hardware. It could be a toothpick or a two-hundred meter timber or the equator–doesn’t matter. Your body dies, your consciousness passes away, but your thought is caught in one tautological point an instant before, subdividing for an eternity. Think about the koan: An arrow is stopped in flight. Well, the death of the body is the flight of the arrow. It’s making a straight line for the brain. No dodging it, not for anyone. People have to die, the body has to fall. And yet, like I was saying, thought goes on subdividing that time for ever and ever. The paradox becomes real. The arrow never hits.

Magic Everywhere

rah — Thu, 05 Aug 2010 02:39:57 +0000

Honestly, I think the most exciting part of my bike ride across Iowa was when John and I spotted two tweens we suspect were Juggalos. Dig.

Forever

rah — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 03:49:53 +0000

People like us, who believe in physics, know that the distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion. Man created time. Time is a fiction. Do you understand? Man created time measurements so…so he could know what time it was. There is nothing out there that says that time actually exists as a universal truth. A human being is part of the whole, called by us a universe–a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest. A kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. There is no time. No–there is time. It’s eleven o’clock. There is time. It’s just…a fiction.

The lobster will released

rah — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 00:57:58 +0000

Took a road trip with some UD folks this past weekend up to Maine to shoot some footy for production of our Documenting Mythologies piece. Got very little sleep and ate some really salty lobster, but it was a good time. We ended our trip at the Harvard Film Archive to present an iteration of the piece to about 40 people on a Sunday afternoon. The archive is evidently the only building by Le Corbusier in the U.S., but that still wasn’t enough to impress me. Still not really a fan of Boston.

Banned in NYC

rah — Tue, 29 Jun 2010 01:25:30 +0000

Finally got a mini-Red Team reunion on a couple of weeks ago, and made some t-shirts. We need to put some work in on making some new screens though, these are all a couple of years old at this point. Still, the “I Red Team NY” is a classic.

Robot to Headspin to Boogaloo

rah — Sun, 13 Jun 2010 05:23:57 +0000

I picked up Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics from Desert Island a few weeks ago on the advice of HOVA, who told me that the book is considered one of the seminal texts of game design. I was especially interested in McCloud’s deconstruction of “the gutter,” the space that exists between panels, and it’s relation to closure, the phenomenon by which people take parts of information to construct a whole. The ideas are ones that are interesting to think about in the context of film, with film cuts serving as an analogue to the gutter. But the text also reminded me of the brilliant video for the Madvillainy song “All Caps” directed by James Reitano. In the video, Reitano makes playful use of the assumed constraints of comic panels in some sequences, whilst simultaneously paying homage to the art of Jack Kirby, one of the most influential comic book artists of all time. Plus Madlib and Doom murdah dem on the track. Dig.

I’ve Got Some White Friends

rah — Sat, 12 Jun 2010 14:39:20 +0000

Voidwell is possibly everything plus everything that is not he.

Lordhavemercy

rah — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 05:24:57 +0000

Haven’t watched this video since circa double-ought and I’m only somewhat embarrassed to admit that I just realized that the concept is Kweli/Mos/Hi Tek driving a dollar van. A Black Star dollar van. Got damn hip hop makes so much more sense in NYC. Still a banger.

p.s. listen to Dead Prez