What brand are you?

Brands.
I was having a discussion with Jess the other day about how I dislike
wearing labels. Her point was that it's so overwhelming why rail
against it? And it seems that she's right. What good does it do to
complain? It's everywhere and talking about it isn't going to change
it. But it seems to me we need, at least, to notice it.
Why are people so ready to be walking billboards for the products
they consume? Because it's identity. Design defines. Maybe that's all
that need be said but let's let that statement be a little bit of a revelation. What we consume becomes our projected personality and in a
society that places so much importance on the individual and personal
freedom, personality is everything.
Product becomes imbued with meaning through advertising; we take
on meaning through consumption. Actually that's not entirely correct.
Product takes on meaning and emotion. That's an important
distinction. We are led to associate products with a variety of ideas
and emotional states, all heavily weighted towards the positive or
negative. All consumption is conspicuous.
So what does your consumption say about you?
What's in your tickle trunk that defines you? It doesn't have to have
a label, everyone knows what an iPhone is when you dig it out. Or a
Blackberry, and the fact that the word Blackberry is to be found in
the auto lexicon of this digital device I'm writing on probably has
very little to do with dietary considerations. And if they don't know
it's a Blackberry they probably don't matter anyhow.
Brands are depending on the fact that you'll associate labels with
lifestyle and we sure as hell do. Lifestyle, what is that? Take a wild
guess as to who coined that term. It was a psychologist actually,
Adler, an Austrian but, if you had asked me, I would have been willing
to bet a good deal of money it was someone involved in advertising it
dovetails so well with marketing schemes.
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lifestyle
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commodity_fetishism

Rain of Blood

  So the other night a bunch of us are standing around the monitor
waiting for a blood gag to happen.
  For those of you not in the biz,
the monitor (or monitors) is where most of the business of film
directing is conducted. A direct feed of the image from the camera is
sent to high quality TV monitors. The director and his retinue sit at
or stand around these screens. The gang at the monitors can consist
of: the director, various producers, the script supervisor, the d. p.,
make up, hair, wardrobe, maybe the gaffer or key grip, the occasional
actor, the press in its many forms, landscapers, Calbrabrian
bricklayers, friends and family of the director and/or producer, friends and family of the director's and or producer's friends and family, and people who need information.
  Blood is going to squirt, jet really, and the jet is the result of a wound, which is simulated by squibs, which I explained in an earlier post.  The jet of blood is directed away from camera and away from video village, which is the industry name, locally, for the monitors and those around them.
  So the director yells action, and the squib goes off, and the blood jet, jets. Spectacular, and then, seconds later, the blood falls out of the sky and rains onto all those standing in "the village". We look at each other and laugh, everyone is liberally splattered with fake blood, very funny. There is no escaping the sticky shit.

The Kids on the Street

As I was out for a jog this afternoon, I passed three boys around 8 or 9 years old. One of them flipped me a military salute. I wonder what he was thinking? Is that something that kids do these days? Was he responding to my inner drill seargeant? Hard to say, but I liked it.
Then I passed two 12 or 13 year olds holding hands.
I was just talking to someone last night about how great the feeling of falling in love is. And when you are a teen.... oh, God, it can stop your heart!

Hobos, Blood, the Morning.

Hobos, Blood, the Morning.
So, the evening's work on "Hobo" finished at six AM. Going from days to nights really does a number on the body and brain.
Speaking of brains, I was worried about all of that fake blood being slippery when, in fact,it is very sticky shit and very
unpleasant to be around.
I've never though of myself as having particularly delicate sensibilities but I'm offended in some way by all this gore. Which probably, possibly sadly, bodes well for the success of the film. Why sadly? I just happen to feel that gore as a form of entertainment is a rather sad statement on the human condition. Don't get me wrong, no one would like to see these guys succeed more than I. I just can't help wishing we could be more than the common denominator. Which probably makes me a bit of a prude, as well.