Amanda Palmer's New Tricks

Miss Amanda Palmer has pulled a new album out of her bag of tricks featuring her magical ukulele.



New album aside the songs are actually covers of old Radiohead songs, adjusted to be played on the small Hawaiian instrument. The most remarkable part of this album is the Radiohead inspired pricing system. Previously Radiohead had made available their last album "In Rainbows" for free download on the internet for a period of time, trying to prove they were all about the music, and not necessarily the profit. People that wanted to pay for the album to support the band could donate any number of moneys for the album, or opt to just download it for free.

Palmer's pricing is based on a similar idea, however a base price of 84 cents was set to pay back Radiohead for the rights to their songs. Listener's could also pay more for it at their leisure, to help support the artist.

The second most remarkable thing about Palmer's new album is that she is not on a record label. All promotion of her CD will be done completely through her band of friends/roadies, and her fan base. She is completely throwing herself out there creating this album without solid knowledge it will be majorly promoted. A pretty bad ass adventure, if I do say so myself.

Now for my actual critique of Palmer's new album. Because, as she said the worst thing you can do to help her is say nothing about the album at all.



This is not my favorite album. A lot of the songs do not translate to ukulele very well, without getting intensely boring after a few minutes. My favorite song has to be Idioteque which has the most interesting ukulele part. However, the album is light and fluffy, and good background music. I would not discourage you from adding it to your collection, although if you are not already a steadfast fan of Palmer you just might not get it. I'm always pleased when she writes anything, performs anything, or gives us anything. It's always exciting to listen to her new music, almost like unwrapping a complicated new present.

So, listen to the album, and give the internet your feedback, because the only negative feedback is no feedback at all!

Amanda Palmer's New Tricks

Animation

I have a great deal of respect for people that can accomplish things that I could never do. For instance, people that can do rigorous mental math, juggle (literally) more than two things, or have an intense amount of patience for meticulous detail. One such example of the latter is animators. Animation is possibly one of the most exhaustively monotonous art forms. 24 frames can make up 1 second of animation, meaning that 24 separate slightly altered drawings equal one second of action. To me, that's a ridiculous amount of work to produce a simple moving image, for instance someone waving their hand, or walking.

Therefore due to his overwhelming patience, and my respect for his art form I would like to showcase Brandon Chamberlain.



His choppy style is deeply reminiscent of Don Hertzfeldt. It's hand drawn simplicity makes it fresh, and keeps the focus on the plot line, unlike the wow and pow of CGI.



Brandon captures the emotions of his characters with precise timing to make the situations more awkward and hilarious. He leaves you waiting for a reaction just until you've almost lost interest and then delivers, the perfect comic timing. Every facial reaction is like a separate punchline.




I especially enjoy the close ups in this video. So there he is, upcoming animator, Brandon Chamberlain. Watch out, I might be convincing him to make his own animation blog, I'll keep you posted!

Animation

Follow The White Rabbit

Have I mentioned how magnificent Betty White is? Probably not lately.



Are any of us going to be that bad ass when we grow up? Never. The older she gets, the funnier it is when she behaves the way that teenagers get looked down upon for today. Never have I had more hope about old age. Who said you have to get retired and slow down? Endless naps, sudoku, scratchy sweaters, and mah joghn every day after sixty? I think not. A new standard for mature women? I think so! Outstanding Betty!

Follow The White Rabbit

Will This Be Cathartic?

Warning, this may end up being too obscenely personal for me to post on here, but it's late at night and I'm exhausted so why not. I'm so seemingly normal. I'd be so much more normal if it wasn't for my overwhelming anxiety. My anxiety to never ever be bad, or wrong. First off, this chunk of anxiety is completely inspired from one simple situation: my boss innocuously saying that we needed to speak before I left from work today. That was it, no note of a good or a bad implication. My mind spiraled. Am I going to get fired? Do I void items too much (something I didn't know got the store in trouble until today, and I thought was a simple computer issue), have I gotten guest complaints, did I do something wrong? Of course I did something wrong, because whenever something goes wrong, it is completely and utterly my fault, and I can't shrug it off. I really can't. I take way too much responsibility for my actions. This is something I don't think my parents ever understood because at school and work and everywhere else I give so much, and have so much wrong to correct that when I'm at home I just can't visualize all the errors I make there too. Not socializing enough, not volunteering to help out, and not picking up on their subtle emotional changes. This is a totally valid thing for them to feel cheated on, since I'm giving a hundred percent as much as I can to everyone else. The minute I think I've done something wrong my mind rockets to negative thought after negative thought in an endless racket of hypothetical scenarios of doom. So where am I safe from my own mind? My sleep? Thus why very often at these times I can't sleep. I really can't do anything properly until I calm myself or distract myself. It can go on for a very long time until I confront the situation completely. Also, this is why I stay up late at night doing everything I can until I physically exhaust myself at these times. It is a completely awful habit to have.

Let's move on to my second anxiety, nausea. The minute I look pale, feel feverish, or even have a stomach grumble I'm done. Until I can distract my mind from causing myself to feel overly more nauseous, I am just a miserable human being. I have weird rituals of vacant tv viewing and internet browsing at this time attempting to void my mind of the retching feeling that I know I am creating, but I can't stop. Thusly, what I'm doing now at 1 am when I'm exhausted and have to work at 8 tomorrow. I'm cracking. Hopefully this will be cathartic enough that I can sleep. I also feel utterly terrible that I'm in this condition considering my mother is alone in bed tonight with the absence of my father and wanted me to sleep with her. Of course I can't due to my obsessive rituals that aren't even working right now. Although the Courtney Love story on VH1 is very interesting. Hopefully I can run on adreniline tomorrow at work. Now why has this anxious scenario sprung tonight? Because I became pale suddenly accompanying my already sore throat and my stomach made a few weird noises. Sound stupid? I know it is rationally, but I'm a wreck.


Anxiety disorder and obsessive compulsive order can go to friggin' hell.

Will This Be Cathartic?

In Which You Risk Life, Limb, and the Overall Happiness of All in the Room

Given by the name, Risk is a game of uncertainty and you know you're liable for disaster. What you didn't expect from the game's namesake is the risk of hating everyone around you by the end of the game. From personal experiences I have gleaned but one simple truth about Risk: by the end (if you even get to the end of the game) there will be blood. Never in my experience has a game ended in anything other than a major bought of shouting, and some severely bruised egos. Alliance's will be formed and then completely shattered leaving boyfriends and girlfriends pissed at one another, and best friends as ballistic enemies. Winners will be handed their asses to them by a person who buys a devastating card. Players will bitch when it's not their turn and become severely ADD. Oftentimes assorted detritus is thrown at the board in frustration or apathy, causing pieces to fly off the board.

Namaste mother f'ers!

Another probable cause with Risk frustration is the massive amount of rules to remember. Often times you should get cards or extra people in certain circumstances that are really easy to pass over. However, there's always that one guy that remembers all of the rules conveniently on his own turn. It's really easy to manipulate the game with newb players by not fully explaining the special rules.

Speaking from experience the most frustrating part of Risk is when you just can not roll above a two. This fact let's you get three pieces annihilated by one defender. It's probably the worst feeling of defeat in any game, ever.

The big however, HOWEVER, is that Risk is the most incredibly addicting party game known to man. There's something about the board game that just keeps you coming. Maybe the pieces are secretly coated in crack, or military strategy games are really that addicting (take Chess for example). I think the brute force of the game is what keeps you needing to try again. When you see the map monopolized by your pieces, there's a rush of ecstasy. This also explains why you feel as if you've had a swift kick to the balls when your entire territory is taken by the underdog. So no matter how consistently nasty and rude we are to one another by the end of the game, we simply can't stop having Risk nights. Perhaps we're just board game fetishists or perhaps there's something deeper here. Either we're eerily screwed up or the makers of Risk just really have it all figured out. Maybe they understand our deep psychological need to be repeatedly slapped in the face, as long as there's the promise of glorious victory.

So in conclusion, Risk is a game of theoretical and very actual warfare. My advice to you is to...

In Which You Risk Life, Limb, and the Overall Happiness of All in the Room

Hiatus

The end of the school year and graduation are a bummer, so I haven't written as of late. On top of that is my natural born gift of procrastination, and my knack for not giving myself and personal time to write. Here is my steadfast promise that sometime this week I will write many informative blog posts. I'm starting a new project to teach myself to knit, so that might glean some hilarious pictures of caddywhompus socks that look more like mutant yarn. Also, after spending about two hours watching the History Channel this morning I'd really like to do a bit on Houdini. Houdini is possibly the biggest bad ass in history.


hello ladies

However, at the moment there is just too much cleaning to do. My car looks like the pits of hell, so I'll update later tonight or tomorrow. Just reminding you all I exist!!

Hiatus

Requiem for a Cat

Last night I had a chilling encounter with a deceased feline. As I drowsily made my way down a back country road the late night moon shone on the most unwanted of omens. My headlights danced back at me from the eyes of the most darling pussy cat. He stretched across the asphalt grandiosely as if begging the Grim Reaper for a belly rub. The minute I spotted him I immediately got hit by a supreme wave of despair. I rocketed into a break down, swearing my car out of respect for the dead. My question is, dear readers, how can one hit a poor unassuming pussy cat, and not immediately halt? He was a perhaps a family cat, that preferred to dine in the kitchen, rather than on rats. Maybe he was a barn cat. Possibly, he was a beloved friend and co conspirator full of mischief with a predisposition for sleeping in the rays of sunshine beside the kitchen window. We will never know. I hope someone runs over the person who ran over Mr. Pussy Cat, and never looks back. Karma.

Requiem for a Cat