Bolex 8mm Titler

Bolex 8mm Titler
I finally had the time today to sit down in the living room floor and set up an old-fashioned film titling system that filmmaker Troy Miller FedEx’ed to me this fall. I totally owe him several T-shirt designs even if I never exactly figure out a use for this thing other than as a nutty desklamp. But for now, read on and let me take you for spin around this contraption…
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One Sweet Bottle

(Note: If you’ve missed them, my pictures from Sweet Home Alabama are in my photo gallery and I’ll probably be uploading them to Flickr soon.) One of the bottles that Josh Lucas dropped off the watertower didn’t break. Honest to gosh, hand to heaven, it didn’t break. He dropped the darned thing, it fell sixty feet (maybe more?) to the ground and stuck in the mud, intact. What’s so remarkable about that?” you may ask. Well, for one thing, the bottle was candy glass, from Alfonso’s Breakaway Glass. It’s made to break.
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Finally Firefly

A little while ago I powered down the DVD player and pulled myself up from the couch, having finished watching a Christmas gift to myself: a 4-disc set of the television show called Firefly. Although I have a few more of the DVD extras left to watch, I’m in the mood to post my thoughts about the show at this moment because I finally understand the passion that drives the show’s fans and wanted to tell my friends who don’t care for science fiction that you need to see the 14 original episodes of this show.
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Do you like coffee? I do. At least, I like the concept of liking coffee. I like the color and the shape of the coffee beans, I like the sound of coffee beans being milled into shaky, grainy grounds. I like the way it smells, I like the shooshing sound of latte steamers and the clanky “whunk, whunk” of barristas making those fancy drinks. I enjoy the spreading galactic swirl of milk (or cream or whipped froth) and I (ever the sweet tooth) love stirring sugar into the drink’s dark depths. I enjoy coffee-flavored ice cream (when I let myself eat it), coffee-flavored yogurt and even a slice or two coffee-seasoned potroast. I’ve always used coffee to age paper (an early sign I’d work in the movies) and I inevitably use coffee as a treat for myself whenever I have the time and the money to stop at a coffee house. When you total it all up it’s undeniable that I enjoy everything there is about coffee. So why, praytell, is it that I rarely manage to drink more than a quarter cup of the damned stuff?
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