Lunch. The test of human endurance.

The center of the heat dome passed over NYC on July 22, 2011, engulfing it in a 104° prison of steamy heat. By 2:30 pm, the heat index in Time Square was 142°. On this, the hottest July 22nd ever recorded in the last 115 years - I ventured out to lunch.

The day before was bad. The mercury topped off at 101°, with a heat index of 124°. During my 3 block excursion to pick up my food, I was told to hydrate by a stranger carrying a bottle of water, which he shook for emphasis. I made it through the half hour lunch break on grit and the luck in finding a shaded area on the FIT campus.

Today promised to be an even bigger challenge, and as I entered the last air conditioned environment I would have access to for nearly 30 minutes, the sinking knowledge that I was putting my life in jeopardy slowed my gait. I bought a light lunch, knowing that excessive digestion could cause a spike in body temperature. After quickly checking in on some senior citizens, I parted the curtain of scathing murk, and all but swam to my perch from the previous afternoon.

Gone was the chatter of people and birds of temperate summer. The gnawing buzz of a suffering insect provided the only sound of life. A few scattered survivors littered the courtyard, peeking out from shady hovels, appearing too weak to scan their surroundings.

My lunch was a small roast beef sandwich with a delicate portion of smashed potatoes on the side. I started with the sandwich as it was cooler than the surrounding atmosphere and coolent to my system was a welcome. Although chewing through the tougher areas of bread was fatiguing, I managed to eat the sandwich in around 13 minutes.

The smashed potatoes sat in their cardboard canister. Within this sweltering sauna the hot sauce and pieces of tactile potato skin created an obstacle course of consumptive agony. It was the final mountain, and my last chance to back out. At this point The heat index had climbed to 157°

I was soaked in sweat, as I took the first, tentative bite. The plastic fork glistened in the oppressive moistness as I slowly began the self induced nightmare. It became steady stumbling race towards an inescapable, staggering end. My body temperature rose with my every movement. Lifting a fork, lowering my head and chewing at the same time was the perfect storm of attrition.

As the 21 minute mark passed, I had consumed nearly half the potatoes, but I was becoming increasingly weak, confused and clumsy from overexertion.

cont.

Opiate

In the summer, in NYC, it was riders of the subway, and all over city streets, holding clear plastic cups of varying sizes. Some as big as a thermos, Like a cocktail without a stigma, the swirling, sugary drug desert is invigorating just to look at. Who would want a universe without them, or the delicate wounded workers who gather courage through it's syrupy spell.

The logo was some variation of a cartoony french "artiste". I vaguely remember a figure with a beret. The distinguishing feature of these magic markers was that they had an aroma that corresponded to their color. Green smelled like mint. Red cherry, orange - orange, brown.....root beer. It was the early 1970's, and encouraging children to smell magic markers was acceptable, i guess. I can't say they provided hours of fun, or how many times I used them (to draw with, or smell). It's safe to assume that they wound up drying up at the bottom of a shoe box after a year or two, and were thrown away before establishing much of an impact on myself, my brother and possibly a few of my friends.

But here, now, over 35 years later, during a bought with insomnia, they have reentered my thinking. The lack of slumber puts me in a state of frustration that the memory of fairly meaningless childhood trinkets seems to diffuse. I'm momentarily consumed in the virtual peppermint and root beer aroma. Somehow, this imaginary indulgence has jettisoned me back in time and space. Although it doesn't lead to sleep, there's a small reprieve in restlessness accompanied with the transference of my spirit. The markers take an elevated significance, and sentimentality washes over me, as I visit other lost treasures. The small, plastic pegs used for establishing hits in Battleship, as well as the plastic suitcase that held the game, take a personal significance akin to the unearthing of lost tombs. Matchbook cars, orange track, whacky packs, legos, lincoln logs, and all manner of random trinkets wash over me. Each item, long overlooked and forgotten. Tossed aside until this restless morning.

The significance of each of these cultural keepsakes was likely stripped barren to anyone associated with their creation long ago. Lost to the designers of the toys, and advertisers who made them so necessary to attain. Time has given them a lacquer sheen that preserves them in my mind, beyond their capitalist designs. Having served their purpose of separating my parents of their money, the artifacts became refuse almost immediately. Buried deep in some landfill, perhaps a feint whiff of root beer attracts a beetle or worm towards a false reward.

Collector From 2036

Still rummaging around in 2011.

The Super Bowl happened. The most watched "live" television event in US history. An early model, no doubt well traveled Aquilera whiffed the National Anthem. MILLIONS OF GALLONS OF CORN SYRUP CONSUMED IN 4 HOURS! Orange faced puppets and animated explosions fire a desperate prayer from an electric coliseum. The 20th century has the last real keys, and it's in 3rd generation decay by now.

Still plenty of artifacts in their purest form. This Island Earth, and ROCK with Bill Haley (1954) yield tempests of fiber. Everywhere, loud talking travelers pound helplessly at the edgess. The seams are strongest outside. The constant snow and subfreezing temperatures make McCarren Park a lunar tundra. Truth is found in tenuous steps on a dusted mirror of infinite refraction.

Traveler from beyond 2036

I made it back to 2011 recently. Early January. It was eerie and refreshing revisiting. They all seemed so placid. Blissfully unaware of what was to come in 25 short years, even though the seams were straining all around them. I saw other travelers, they were easy to spot. Some that had never taken a step in the real world. Somewhere in this place in time, I Love Lucy was still being broadcast. The 20th century, in it's murky, multiple existence, was everywhere. I myself found several talisman. Pristine original vinyl, at ridiculously low prices. Neil Diamond's Hot August Night - $1.99. Steve Miller, Fly Like An Eagle, $1.99. Others too. Maybe they were plants. It seems impossible that relics like that could exist in such great condition so close to the end.

The salespeople at the junk shop were travelers, trying so hard to mimic the human experience. but obviously not real. There was condescension there of course, attempts to read me as a traveler too. But they couldnt make me. Unlike them, I'd felt 2011 already. I'd walked those streets, I'd had sore knees, and felt the breeze tickling my cheek. You can't fake that visitors, and as superior as you may be, you need these humans to stay what and where they were, at least until 2036, or thereabouts. And you need travelers like me to keep it real, confirm your suspicions, so to speak.

I'm thinking of staying around 2011 for a while. The rips are starting to show, and soon the structure will fall apart completely. It's an exciting, electric time. The denial is palpable. Theories run amok, and all distractions from what seems to be hanging in the air all around us.

There's a Super Bowl coming up. It's the Black Eyed Peas this year. The nonexistent. It'll be interesting to see how humanity side steps the breakdown of reality when confronted with the most tostito and beer consumptive 4 hours in human history.

Independent filmmaking NYC

Making independent film in NYC, or anywhere for that matter is difficult.

Its a tough, expensive process, and results always seem to vary. The festival circuit yields uneven results, and the internet is a quagmire.

does anyone know of real, useful forums for independent filmmakers?

FILM, VIDEO ETC

I'm keeping busy with film and video projects, even when my hands are tied!
Recently, one of my short film projects fell through. It was more than a year of hard work and preparation.
I dont think it'a complete loss, but not the way i'd hoped it would go. I wont go into to detail, but someone quit, at the 3/4 completion mark.
I'm just gonna let it go for the time being, and concentrate on other things. I plan on organizing my site, doing some writing, and slowly crapping out a couple music vids and short film projects over the winter.
with figure out what to do with the footage from the lost movie soon.

thats it for now
go green