*Thanks for Dr. Hughes for the ticket and oOCarolinaOo for posting.
Archive for the 'Los Angeles, CA' Category
This is my friend Owen. No, he’s not an Everglade airboat captain/cocaine smuggler, this is simply the way he likes to dress. He wore this to Spaceland the other night and I’m pretty sure he’s not trying to be ironic.
His girlfriend’s a stylist for music videos, big, glitzy high fashion music videos with super famous, ungrateful shitbag pop stars, which usually means, if you’ve got a quick hands and and an extra backpack handy, fancy, glitzy, freebie designer clothes, and yet Owen still dresses this way. They live together, but she has apparently “given up” on trying to dress him.
“Given up?” As if she even had to try. As if the man wasn’t doing a fantastic job dressing himself. (Notice the cast he has on his left arm from the alligator wrestling injury he got back in August).
The way I see it, one man’s fashion suicide is another man’s fashion victory. Having good “style” is really just 50% bullshit and 50% “I don’t give a fuck” anyway and Owen’s got the “I don’t give a fuck” down tight.
Come to think of it, maybe Owen should be the one dressing Lady Ga Ga considering he’s the one that spawned a brand new fashion genre after simply throwing on this no fuss Bass Pro Shop sale rack special for night out at the bar.
Part of Tata Fashion Week, Santa Monica
West Coast Icicles Spring 2010 Collection : Tsunami Wear from Sleep Never on Vimeo.
1st song of the first show.
Thom York “The Eraser” Live @ Echoplex 10.2.09 from Sleep Never on Vimeo.
Committed the best to memory rather than converting them to bytes, so I’d free hands to wave in the air, but here’s a taste of what Thom Yorke’s unforgettable “rehearsal” looked like last night from 10 feet out.
Thom Yorke “And It Rained All Night” Live @ Echoplex 10.2.09 from Sleep Never on Vimeo.
Though many of us born in the U.S.A. take the privilege of living here for granted, an average of *400,000 new immigrants come to this country every year, legally, to work harder than most of us ever have for a chance to achieve their dream of a better life, and one that doesn’t usually include a new BMW, the latest I-phone, a billboard-size flat screen and 12 Billion thread-count sheets. Anis is one of these people.
Shot this 4 years ago and never put it out. Stumbled upon the footage a couple of weeks ago, cut it together and was excited to see how poignant Anis’ story is today.
And so I introduce to a young man who spends 18 hours a day on his feet at “Melrose Metal Mart” selling cigarettes, booze, donuts, soda, bread, beer, chips, hot dogs, sandwiches, postcards, newspapers and dirty magazines, with a smile on his face, to a potpourri of often less-than-savory patrons, and somehow still always finds time to talk life.
Make sure to stick around after the credits for outtakes including the “best weed in the state,” the redneck Jew and a visit from some crackhead con men.
*Although the number of adjustments has greatly varied between 1986 and 2006, the number of new arrivals has remained relatively stable at about 400,000 per year. The Yearbook of Immigration Statistics, published by the Department of Homeland Security’s (DHS) Office of Immigration Statistics (OIS)
Just some of what was waiting for me when I walked out of the front door of my house at nine o’ clock last night. Thanks to Prop 8 protesters for the inspiration and thanks to the cops for not kicking all of our asses. Almost feels good to be American again.
Truth on the numbers, bug catchers, gift givers, needle exchanges, rapid testing…
In order to capture the essence of the “journey,” and fully embrace the chaos, I have planned little more than to meet up with some amazing people and see where the asphalt leads.
True to the nature of Sleep Never, anything can happen, and on the flip side, I’m sure at times, very little will.
Regardless, I quit my job yesterday, packed up my life and in the next six weeks, will be crossing this entire once glorious country in planes, trains, automobiles and a giant luxury tour bus packed with good friends and gear.
Feel free to join me from your couch, cubicle, barstool or the comfort of your own bed whenever you find the time. I’ll be here.
As for today, time to kill and strapped with gear, I wrote and shot and scored this “found” piece on the train ride from LA to San Diego.
Sure, the voice over is… you know… as voice over’s can be, and sort of “beat,” and the beats had their own beats, sure, but they didn’t have DV’s, Macbooks and Reason so…
Choo fucking choo.
Direct your props to Conti on this one. You could throw that score under paint drying and it would somehow end up being epic.
Epicly ridiculous.
