I find it hard to believe that it is physically possible in this plane of existence to dislike his music; its purity and substance is beautifully heartwarming. This performance in particular always leaves me in a state of pure awe as I am carried off in my mind to simpler times where fond memories were ignited.
Jun 15, 2011
P.S. I am an Unemployed Screenwriter
When we walk we, first, entangle our thoughts, and then straighten them like a comb through hair. We observe the simplicity of the world around us and, in doing so, curtail our feelings, emotions, beliefs, hopes into a tangible, examinable solution to the fog that enshrouds our minds.
Writing enables us to experience a similar form of central elucidation, though, with a slight twist:
We walk a narrow path—and though we have the ability to stray from it—we are always limited to our initial surroundings (however much they may change with progress). Writing, conversely, expands in every direction, allowing us to add dimension upon dimension as we please. Walking allows us to get from “A” to “B”—we can never deviate from this mandatory principle since these two destinations can occupy any place that we choose. Writing is not bound by a directional foundation. It can start here…
And end here.
While simultaneously ending here.
We can reach two destinations at the same time through a single route that allows both ventures to coexist. This practice, which we will call “layering”, allows the writer to layer meaning on top of meaning. A singular set of words arranged in only one distinct order can encapsulate multiple, and immensely different, meanings.
Here’s an example:
“As the man received the award he looked at his father in the audience and smiled.”
This sentence can denote many, many things—here’s a few possibilities:
• A man smiled at his father.
• The man credited his father for his success.
• The man discredited his father’s belief that he would never amount to anything.
As we can see, the options are seemingly endless—inferences can be drawn in vast quantities by the minutest details (or a single sentence).
Concealing indirect details under the conceptual surface of words is an extremely basic technique that has been used for ages to covey symbols, themes, messages, etc.
*Dear screenwriters employed by giant production companies to write screenplays for mindless blockbusters,
This was for you. Believe it or not, you can add depth and meaning to a story without angering the greedy pigs that feed you money scraps from their box office feasts by concealing it below the surface.
I will prove this with one final example:
Animal Farm
• (For the stupid people that like explosions and your ill-tempered employers) A story about animals on a farm.
• (For the smart people) A critical, allegorical satire portraying the authoritarian society created by Joseph Stalin.
Writing enables us to experience a similar form of central elucidation, though, with a slight twist:
We walk a narrow path—and though we have the ability to stray from it—we are always limited to our initial surroundings (however much they may change with progress). Writing, conversely, expands in every direction, allowing us to add dimension upon dimension as we please. Walking allows us to get from “A” to “B”—we can never deviate from this mandatory principle since these two destinations can occupy any place that we choose. Writing is not bound by a directional foundation. It can start here…
And end here.
While simultaneously ending here.
We can reach two destinations at the same time through a single route that allows both ventures to coexist. This practice, which we will call “layering”, allows the writer to layer meaning on top of meaning. A singular set of words arranged in only one distinct order can encapsulate multiple, and immensely different, meanings.
Here’s an example:
“As the man received the award he looked at his father in the audience and smiled.”
This sentence can denote many, many things—here’s a few possibilities:
• A man smiled at his father.
• The man credited his father for his success.
• The man discredited his father’s belief that he would never amount to anything.
As we can see, the options are seemingly endless—inferences can be drawn in vast quantities by the minutest details (or a single sentence).
Concealing indirect details under the conceptual surface of words is an extremely basic technique that has been used for ages to covey symbols, themes, messages, etc.
*Dear screenwriters employed by giant production companies to write screenplays for mindless blockbusters,
This was for you. Believe it or not, you can add depth and meaning to a story without angering the greedy pigs that feed you money scraps from their box office feasts by concealing it below the surface.
I will prove this with one final example:
Animal Farm
• (For the stupid people that like explosions and your ill-tempered employers) A story about animals on a farm.
• (For the smart people) A critical, allegorical satire portraying the authoritarian society created by Joseph Stalin.
Jun 9, 2011
Jun 7, 2011
Play-By-Play Reaction to the Wii U
You're not fooling me again, Nintendo. My Wii isn't good for anything except playing Gamecube games, an occasional SSBB session, and collecting dust. The trailer for the Wii U leads me to believe that your new console will be no different...minus the Gamecube disc compatibility (probably).
Money, It's a Gas
I've come to face the ultimate truth that the majority of consumers are mindless sheep that will allow corporations to feed them rehashed products without question or consideration. I realize that originality can still be found in other areas of the video game market; however, with that being said, my annoyance at the announcement of Halo 4 comes from a broader grievance. Look at the Star Wars prequels--whether or not we choose to admit it, they have had a detrimental effect on the way we view the original trilogy. I can't get through a single viewing of episodes IV, V, or VI without thoughts about Midi-chlorians or how Anakin built C-3PO looming in the back of my mind. What I'm trying to say is that, as a nostalgic nerd that can still remember the day I purchased Halo: Combat Evolved, I have a soft spot for the story of Master Chief's plight as a soldier. While playing the games you develop a bond with the character. His solemnity and commitment to his duty make him likable; thus, allowing us to have an emotional investment in the plot. This enables an arcane practice called "story telling" to be the key motivator for completing the game. If you are aware of video games outside the realm of Call of Duty you might be familiar with it.
Now, I'm not saying that I got choked up and cried at the end of Halo 3, but I do care enough about the story that I would be disappointed if it was blemished by later, unnecessary (in my opinion) games. This businesslike practice of endlessly creating sequels for successful games goes a long way in hindering the argument that video games are a form of art. Granted, film is an accepted art form and look at the state of Hollywood. Shows how much I really know...
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