Skyfall:
A movie that had me shaken and stirred, but the promises made make me hungry for the next one. During the movie I thought: Why so much politics? Bond was always about the politician's dirty work. Lacking the Cold War, it might be terrorists, but let them be over-the-top. Which He was. I was wondering, why make M die? Just replace her in the next movie without mentioning it, but I guess every- and anyone needs an origin story nowadays.
After the ending, I realised all the messages in the movie: A straight razor is traditional, Bond might need it. He drinks his martini shaken not stirred, introduces himself in the old-fashioned manner and fights henchmen in a pit with carnivorous animals. Q is back, and joking about exploding pens. The agency leaves its fancy real-life location for a bunker. We take an Aston Martin and drive to Scotland and Bond's (Connery's) childhood home. We get Moneypenny and M back, and a general 'resurrection' theme. Back to the roots it is! YES!
The only thing that has to be corrected now are the music videos to the opening credits. Less of Craig's face, we know the guy by now. Focs on silhouettes and the arty stuff. There might be spoilers up there, I'll tone it down.
The Hobbit:
Haven't read the book, but I like the movie. I also like the 48fps-feature, after one gets used to it. It's like 3d or sound in movies: First everyone resents it, it's used anyway, one generation later we don't say 'movie' and '48-fps-3d-movie', we say 'blurry flatfilm' and 'movie'.
Wreck-it-Ralph:
Whoever finds the most background references wins! Which is why I'll watch it a second time, definetly. The story itself is pretty much Disney, with lessons learned, bad guys (bad beyond their purpose and programming) get what they deserve, etc etc. But it's a kids movie, and kid's movies are fun!
In other news, I'm back in Opotiki for the international consumerism festival. Have fun wherever you and your mind are!
Mobi
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Premiere of 'The Hobbit'
The whole week was filled with program, a hobbit market in particular, which turned out to be a themed merchandise sale. But they had a show of a Weta makeup artist during which he gave an actor an orc face. He also told us that the hobbit's feet took some hours, too, and because of these long times orcs often wear gloves. After the two-hour procedure, he walked through the crowd, surrounded by photographers. In the evening, the large screen showed 'The Fellowship Of The Ring', the shorter cinema version. The following two evenings, the other two movies were shown.
At the day of the premiere, two blocks were closed for traffic, yet there was more traffic than ever. I arrived around 12 pm, and there was a considerable crowd already. I strolled along the carpet's length, which I think I read was half a kilometer. It took some time to get to the Embassy Theatre, where a stage looking like a hobbit home was erected. But you might have seen that one on tv. About two or three hours of walking around the crowd later, Felix and Anne (from Opotiki) texted me that they arrived and got some front row space at the carpet. I joined them and we waited for the 5pm pre-show, which was a juggling show to keep the crowd entertained, and the arrival of the famous people. The spectators didn't come here because these people are famous, they are famous because of the spectators.
They gave out large cardboards with Air New Zealand logo and a picture of their Hobbit-theme painted plane, for people to collect autographs on them. Felt-tip pens were sold for 5 dollars, but I long ago had made it a habit of carrying mine to mark my food and other stuff. On the blank backsides of three of the cardboards, I wrote 'Tell me where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him' (Ian ASDFASDFASDF was not present), 'To boldly go where no Hobbit has gone before' and 'The Hobbit Episode I: Hope you didn't ruin the prequel'. Others had slogans like 'Gandalf, marry me! ...once it's legal' or 'three horses died for this movie' (Peta, of course). They also gave out wizard's hats, and I got one with the unbeatable arguement of a sunburnt forehead (some days ago, I had lost my bucket hat).
When the stars strolled past at last, we collected some signatures, but not enough for my taste, so I asked the other carpeteers to sign. I got a stage doctor, a lawyer, a swordmaker, a shoemaker, a costume designer, another designer, a guy who helped get the plane painted and several others. I even got some of the people who were there just because they know the right people to sign; most of them somewhere between shy and outright embarassed. I explained to them that they can't just tell me that they're not famous, for that's the internet's call to make. It was fun, it trained communication skills and I learned that you can get to a premiere simply because you own a small cinema in a small town.
At one point, the endless interviews stopped and the announcer told us to look up in the sky. He then started a countdown, after which nothing happened. He started again, and low overhead, the Air New Zealand plane flew by. That was quite an impressive sight.
And that was that. Now, since I wasn't able to find a job in Wellington, I am travelling the country with Felix and Anne. We plan to be in Auckland in a few days to watch the movie ourselves, and on that occasion I'll get myself and internship for the public relation company that works for NZBIO.
My battlecry is uncomprehensible over the cameraperson's laughter, which perhaps is as adequate.
Gandalf enjoys a donut
Gandalf rebuilds Minas Tirith.
Gandalf's hot tub.
My battlecry is uncomprehensible over the cameraperson's laughter, which perhaps is as adequate.
Gandalf enjoys a donut
Gandalf rebuilds Minas Tirith.
Gandalf's hot tub.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
i was walking around town, giving my cv to every pr agency, cinema and movie production company in walking distance, when i saw a crowd. i walked closer and saw some of the traditional maori waka canoes. but the crowd looked another way. i asked one of them, and he pointed out to me that at the other side of the crowd, five meters from our position, prince charles was taking a birthday walk among his colony habitants. suddenly, the postersaround town with anti-monarchistic slogans and the windsohr's face made sense to me. anyway, one of the cinemas is hiring at the moment, so let,s not lose hope. after all, i could be sitting in some concrete bunker and be fed knowledge while staying oblivious to the world.
17 days to the hobbit premiere
With Nelson getting stale and my funds running thin, I returned to the north island and set up shop in Wellington, to knock on the public relation industry doors myself. Now I know why most elevators in business buildings have mirrors. The crosssection of businesses I found on the lobby boards of the skyscrapers were interesting, though in hindsight I guess every business needs to sit somewhere. I found an oil company I never heard of, all kinds of doctors and specialists to get you to the peak of health and beyond, numerous government departments and a heap of IT-businesses with funny names and (supposedly) interchangeable business plans. We take the sh out of IT.
http://abstrusegoose.com/380
None of the PR agencies are hiring at the moment, so I'll look around the movie business if they need a ticket salesperson or a stagehand somewhere.
http://www.viruscomix.com/page413.html
http://abstrusegoose.com/380
None of the PR agencies are hiring at the moment, so I'll look around the movie business if they need a ticket salesperson or a stagehand somewhere.
http://www.viruscomix.com/page413.html
Monday, November 12, 2012
Hobbit Premiere in 18 days
With Nelson getting stale and my funds running thin, I returned to the north island and set up shop in Wellington, to knock on the public relation industry doors myself. Now I know why most elevators in business buildings have mirrors. The crosssection of businesses I found on the lobby boards of the skyscrapers were interesting, though in hindsight I guess every business needs to sit somewhere. I found an oil company I never heard of, all kinds of doctors and specialists to get you to the peak of health and beyond, numerous government departments and a heap of IT-businesses with funny names and (supposedly) interchangeable business plans. We take the sh out of IT.
http://abstrusegoose.com/380
None of the PR agencies are hiring at the moment, so I'll look around the movie business if they need a ticket salesperson or a stagehand somewhere.
http://www.viruscomix.com/page413.html
http://abstrusegoose.com/380
None of the PR agencies are hiring at the moment, so I'll look around the movie business if they need a ticket salesperson or a stagehand somewhere.
http://www.viruscomix.com/page413.html
Sunday, October 28, 2012
My brain > Hollywood
Unconscious dream layout
+ conscious rewriting and editing
= Story worth of a movie!
\paragraph{28.09.12}
The view was hideous. The streets were filled with them; pale blue skinned zombies with torn and twisted bodies, staggering around in the central business district, pressing themselves against the large windows of the skyscraper without success. I turned away from the sealed glass doors and faced the lobby. Some survivors were camping out in the waiting areas, reading the glossy magazines that are to be expected in waiting areas, with stories and pictures about dead and forgotten celebrities.
I crossed the room, their heads following me with questioning looks. At the gateway to the stairway, I showed my ID badge to Angelina, sitting in her glass cabin. She smiled at me and said "You've been in the lobby more than any of the others, and I've seen you the whole time. You don't even need that badge anymore to convince me". She winked and opened the stairway doors. In the middle of the small, jet 50 stories high room, I looked up. The stairs were turning around endlessly. I sighed and took the first step. The elevators had broke down several hours ago, and the amounts of energy saved were propably buying us days, but as I climbed up, I couldn't reconcile with that thought.
At the laboratories, I met Dr. Hauser, one of the lab leaders. Not a big shot, but no redshirt, either. We had become close friends since the incident. "Any progress, Dr.?". He smiled and shrugged. "same level as last time you asked. It's frustrating; I was just about to go to the glass house." He meant the lobby, the skyscrapers 'outdoors'; a place to go in one's breaks, to meet new faces among the campers and to look out the windows and watch the world breaking down a bit more. "Just were there; the view hasn't changed since they started to press against the glass. I got a bit of time left, I'll join you." "Because of me or because of Angelina?", he asked with a grin.
We started our descent along the stairs, but before long we smelled them. I looked over the handrail and saw the zombies crawling upwards. "How did they get in? Management told us that the glass is bulletproof! And with the equipment in here it better should've been!" Hauser was on the brink of turning back up. "There are not many of them, we need to see what happened down there!" He sighed, then headed down with me. When we encountered the first zombie, we simply jumped from one side of the staircase to the other, cutting a corner and bypassing the undead.
This way, we made it down to the lobby floor, but when we headed for the door, a zombie that had been behind the stairs bit Hauser. I ran back up a level, observing Hauser. His skin got pale, he coughed blood and gasped "Wait... I don't want to... I can feel it... Don't want..." His eyes lost focus and wandered around, he took a step on wobbly legs. Then he held to the handrail and his eyes found mine once more. "Can fight... The urge... Help me..."
His skin color grew healthy again, the other zombie turned his head back to him and attempted another bite. I shoved it away and led Hauser up the stairs, cautiously of his behaviour. But he got better with every step. "This is amazing, I am alive! I felt what it's like... It was horrible, but... I was dead down there! How did I come back?" "You're the Doctor, you tell me! I'm taking you to management, they have to get the labs on this phenomenon! If you came back, maybe there is a cure for all the others, too!"
Up at the top floor, the suit people were gathered in their conference room, blankly listening to some eggheads lecture without understanding a word. I interrupted the speaking scientist: "Gentlemen, the zombies are in the staircase. That's the bad news, the good news is that Dr. Hauser got bitten! How's that bad news? Because he made it back!" I pointed at the door, where Hauser was entering as on cue, his skin still a bit colorless, the wound in his shoulder gaping at the suits, but evidently a walking, talking, thinking human being.
One of the suits finally spoke. "So, what does that mean? Can any zombie come back and they just don't want to? Did he have some vaccination? And, aehm, shouldn't we analyse his blood and whatnot?" I took a breath, but Hauser spoke first: "You're right, I should go immediatly." With that, he stormed out of the room. When I reached the staircase, he was already one floor down, yelling: "Shouldn't you be in the lobby, investigating how the zombies got in? How they could get past Angelina?" I winced in horror and ran down the staircase once more, dodging and kicking zombies.
Somehow, the main doors had opened, and the lobby was crawling with them. I identified some of the campers, now zombified. Angelina was in her glass cabin, frantically adjusting her radio equipment. I knocked at the back of her cabin, and as she saw me, she got out immediatly. LUckily, the staircase doors held, and the few zombies in the stairway were managable. She sobbed. "Did you hear the transmission? Do you know?" I held her, asking what she meant. "It's the Chinese. They are about to nuke the place; they don't want the problem to spread to them." Just in that moment, I could see a single get fighter pass the city, headed for the center of the outbreak. We stood in silence.
When we saw a mushroom cloud growing into the sky far away, we looked at each other. Then, she seemed to remember something, and she started to wordlessly drag me into the second floor corridor. After a turn, there was a grey body bag on the floor. She stopped, confused. "What is this? ...Who is this? Last time I came through here, this wasn't there." She looked at me, questioning. I kneeled down and opened the body bag. In it lay, seemingly dead, Angelina. I looked at her. "It's ...you?" She turned away in terror. Before any of us could say another word, one of the suits, the only woman up there, came into the corridor. I didn't study her face back up there, but she looked familiar...
"Calm down, both of you! It's got to do with time travel, and time is short right now!" She turned to me. "Help me get her in here!" She started dragging the body bag into the restroom closeby. "Angelina!", she jelled. "Get in here, I'll explain what this is about after we got out of here!" She opened a secret compartment hidden underneath the floor tiles. It contained a small chamber stuffed with strange electronics. She placed the body bag in there, directed the speechless Angelina into a seat and took the last one herself. Looking up to me, she said: "Sorry for that, but you weren't in the plans. You better step back." I stepped towards the windows, where I could see the giant mushroom. Almost simultaneously, the chamber disappeared and left a gaping hole in the floor, and the sound blast of the explosion hit the building.
I just saw this as a draft. Why did I never publish this?
+ conscious rewriting and editing
= Story worth of a movie!
\paragraph{28.09.12}
The view was hideous. The streets were filled with them; pale blue skinned zombies with torn and twisted bodies, staggering around in the central business district, pressing themselves against the large windows of the skyscraper without success. I turned away from the sealed glass doors and faced the lobby. Some survivors were camping out in the waiting areas, reading the glossy magazines that are to be expected in waiting areas, with stories and pictures about dead and forgotten celebrities.
I crossed the room, their heads following me with questioning looks. At the gateway to the stairway, I showed my ID badge to Angelina, sitting in her glass cabin. She smiled at me and said "You've been in the lobby more than any of the others, and I've seen you the whole time. You don't even need that badge anymore to convince me". She winked and opened the stairway doors. In the middle of the small, jet 50 stories high room, I looked up. The stairs were turning around endlessly. I sighed and took the first step. The elevators had broke down several hours ago, and the amounts of energy saved were propably buying us days, but as I climbed up, I couldn't reconcile with that thought.
At the laboratories, I met Dr. Hauser, one of the lab leaders. Not a big shot, but no redshirt, either. We had become close friends since the incident. "Any progress, Dr.?". He smiled and shrugged. "same level as last time you asked. It's frustrating; I was just about to go to the glass house." He meant the lobby, the skyscrapers 'outdoors'; a place to go in one's breaks, to meet new faces among the campers and to look out the windows and watch the world breaking down a bit more. "Just were there; the view hasn't changed since they started to press against the glass. I got a bit of time left, I'll join you." "Because of me or because of Angelina?", he asked with a grin.
We started our descent along the stairs, but before long we smelled them. I looked over the handrail and saw the zombies crawling upwards. "How did they get in? Management told us that the glass is bulletproof! And with the equipment in here it better should've been!" Hauser was on the brink of turning back up. "There are not many of them, we need to see what happened down there!" He sighed, then headed down with me. When we encountered the first zombie, we simply jumped from one side of the staircase to the other, cutting a corner and bypassing the undead.
This way, we made it down to the lobby floor, but when we headed for the door, a zombie that had been behind the stairs bit Hauser. I ran back up a level, observing Hauser. His skin got pale, he coughed blood and gasped "Wait... I don't want to... I can feel it... Don't want..." His eyes lost focus and wandered around, he took a step on wobbly legs. Then he held to the handrail and his eyes found mine once more. "Can fight... The urge... Help me..."
His skin color grew healthy again, the other zombie turned his head back to him and attempted another bite. I shoved it away and led Hauser up the stairs, cautiously of his behaviour. But he got better with every step. "This is amazing, I am alive! I felt what it's like... It was horrible, but... I was dead down there! How did I come back?" "You're the Doctor, you tell me! I'm taking you to management, they have to get the labs on this phenomenon! If you came back, maybe there is a cure for all the others, too!"
Up at the top floor, the suit people were gathered in their conference room, blankly listening to some eggheads lecture without understanding a word. I interrupted the speaking scientist: "Gentlemen, the zombies are in the staircase. That's the bad news, the good news is that Dr. Hauser got bitten! How's that bad news? Because he made it back!" I pointed at the door, where Hauser was entering as on cue, his skin still a bit colorless, the wound in his shoulder gaping at the suits, but evidently a walking, talking, thinking human being.
One of the suits finally spoke. "So, what does that mean? Can any zombie come back and they just don't want to? Did he have some vaccination? And, aehm, shouldn't we analyse his blood and whatnot?" I took a breath, but Hauser spoke first: "You're right, I should go immediatly." With that, he stormed out of the room. When I reached the staircase, he was already one floor down, yelling: "Shouldn't you be in the lobby, investigating how the zombies got in? How they could get past Angelina?" I winced in horror and ran down the staircase once more, dodging and kicking zombies.
Somehow, the main doors had opened, and the lobby was crawling with them. I identified some of the campers, now zombified. Angelina was in her glass cabin, frantically adjusting her radio equipment. I knocked at the back of her cabin, and as she saw me, she got out immediatly. LUckily, the staircase doors held, and the few zombies in the stairway were managable. She sobbed. "Did you hear the transmission? Do you know?" I held her, asking what she meant. "It's the Chinese. They are about to nuke the place; they don't want the problem to spread to them." Just in that moment, I could see a single get fighter pass the city, headed for the center of the outbreak. We stood in silence.
When we saw a mushroom cloud growing into the sky far away, we looked at each other. Then, she seemed to remember something, and she started to wordlessly drag me into the second floor corridor. After a turn, there was a grey body bag on the floor. She stopped, confused. "What is this? ...Who is this? Last time I came through here, this wasn't there." She looked at me, questioning. I kneeled down and opened the body bag. In it lay, seemingly dead, Angelina. I looked at her. "It's ...you?" She turned away in terror. Before any of us could say another word, one of the suits, the only woman up there, came into the corridor. I didn't study her face back up there, but she looked familiar...
"Calm down, both of you! It's got to do with time travel, and time is short right now!" She turned to me. "Help me get her in here!" She started dragging the body bag into the restroom closeby. "Angelina!", she jelled. "Get in here, I'll explain what this is about after we got out of here!" She opened a secret compartment hidden underneath the floor tiles. It contained a small chamber stuffed with strange electronics. She placed the body bag in there, directed the speechless Angelina into a seat and took the last one herself. Looking up to me, she said: "Sorry for that, but you weren't in the plans. You better step back." I stepped towards the windows, where I could see the giant mushroom. Almost simultaneously, the chamber disappeared and left a gaping hole in the floor, and the sound blast of the explosion hit the building.
I just saw this as a draft. Why did I never publish this?
Secret Drawing Project
Gefragt ist:
1. Ein typisches Foto/Beschreibung (oder mehrere) wie ihr euch portraitieren lassen würdet (z.b. lester mit Pfeil/Bogen, Bambi mit ihrer Mütze und niedlich, etc. pp.)
2. Eure Lieblingsfarbe.
Meine Antwort:
1a. Heldenhafte Pose, mit Streitaxt, langen wallenden Locken, in Orange
1b. Nachrichtenmoderator, mit langen wallenden Locken und konservativem Anzug, in gruen
Hier einige Fotos, zur Orientierung:
Das war vor meiner Abreise, im konservativen Anzug (ohne Fotoshop, mit awesome):
Hier ist mein Lebenslauf-Foto von April oder so.
Der Bart ist ab.
Hier habe ich gerade das Schach-Billard erfunden. Kurz darauf habe ich doppelt verloren.
Gordon-Freeman-Bart, empfohlen von Felix Fink. Du hattest Recht, das sieht gut aus. Augenmerk ausserdem an die langsam laenger werdenden Haare. Ich nenne es den automatischen Vokuhila. Ohne Frisoer wird es hinten laenger und vorne
Vorgestern.
Nixon. Fuer das experimentelle Zeichenprojekt haette ich gerne etwas Nixon-esques fuer meinen Nachrichtensprecher. Ich mag diese Gesichtszuege einfach. I'm Not A Crook!Politiker der Weltgeschichte: Henry Kissinger versucht, wie ich auszusehen, und scheitert aufs haesslichste.
Mit Blogger Fotos zu arrangieren ist hoellisch!
Mobi
Hollywood is lying!
This is a great year to be in an country where movies aren't dubbed. The Dark Knight Rises, Avengers, Looper, Total Recall, Dredd, Spiderman (just kidding), Resident Evil (not kidding).
An interesting effect is how the message and even the genre of a movie can shift if you watch it with the idea of voluntarism lodged in your brain. You can even watch your favourite movies for a second 'first time', and they might not even be your favourites afterwards! Here's what I think:
Dredd:
It is the age of the remake. When it was first attempted to bring the Judge to the big screen, they gave him character development. And for that to work, they gave him a character. Who took off his helmet.
The new one is not a remake of that movie, but a new attempt to turn the comic into one, with a Dredd that has no character and no face. He is the law. He keeps his helmet on and is nothing more than what the Hall of Justice considers the ideal Judge. To give the movie a character, he gets a psychic sidekick who doesn't wear a helmet at all. Other than Spidey3's Venom, there is an explanation for it, it interferes with her abilities. Fine by me.
So, we have the 'good ones', fighting the 'bad ones', a drug producing gang that lives in a tower whose other inhabitants propably don't like the violence in front of their doors, no matter from whom. If you look past the good-bad thingy, the movie is no longer a crime-fighting action movie, but a nihilistic explodium. But that makes it all the more interesting. If you don't listen to the good-bad narratice to know wether an action is good or bad, but analyse it according to your own moral framework (say, UPB), this movie is as educational as it is entertaining.
And entertaining it is. No shaking cameras, beautiful slo-mo sceneries (Shut up, I like them). And they find an in-universe explanation for that, too: The drug itself is Slo-Mo! Brilliant! There remains just one question: when you use 3D, then why do you still need this effect where you shift the camera focus from a far object to a near one? With all the techology we have, can't we show everything clear, so I can decide myself what object I focus on?
My two cents in a nutshell: I enjoyed it and whould have seen it again, whould it not have vanished from the cinemas within two weeks.
Looper:
It is also the age of the new and original story that has never been before! Looper is from the subgenre of science-fiction wherein a technology is introduced into a society that resembles ours. The difference is that it is not used by the scientist who invented it (e.g. Back To The Future) or the military/police (e.g. minority report), but by reckless criminals who cleverly use it for their own profit (e.g. Inception).
It's been a while since I watched it, and I lost my notes on this one, but I really liked it. Willis doesn't want to talk about how time travel works because he'd be ending up drawing diagrams with ketchup? Brilliant! And following the important 'show don't tell', we get to see what happens to future you if past you gets captured... One of the most memorable moments of time-travel science-fiction is that most unusual chase scene.
Other than that, the world we see is not too distant from ours, but the telekinesis comes out of nowhere, that may have been solved more smoothly. But what do I know about writing a screenplay?
I should do some reading on how to write a decent movie critique, this is closer to what I talked about with other viewers afterwards. See it yourself if you want to know how it is.
Oh, I also watched Atlas Shrugged and was kinda disappointed. It feels rushed, they have to cover 400 pages in one movie. Also, the collectivists are too obviously evil, i.e. doing it to gain control by knowing the right people. As far as I see it, the councils were established with the genuin purpose of doing the best for everyone, and people only turned to personal favourism after they saw that altruism doesn't work out.
An interesting effect is how the message and even the genre of a movie can shift if you watch it with the idea of voluntarism lodged in your brain. You can even watch your favourite movies for a second 'first time', and they might not even be your favourites afterwards! Here's what I think:
Dredd:
It is the age of the remake. When it was first attempted to bring the Judge to the big screen, they gave him character development. And for that to work, they gave him a character. Who took off his helmet.
The new one is not a remake of that movie, but a new attempt to turn the comic into one, with a Dredd that has no character and no face. He is the law. He keeps his helmet on and is nothing more than what the Hall of Justice considers the ideal Judge. To give the movie a character, he gets a psychic sidekick who doesn't wear a helmet at all. Other than Spidey3's Venom, there is an explanation for it, it interferes with her abilities. Fine by me.
So, we have the 'good ones', fighting the 'bad ones', a drug producing gang that lives in a tower whose other inhabitants propably don't like the violence in front of their doors, no matter from whom. If you look past the good-bad thingy, the movie is no longer a crime-fighting action movie, but a nihilistic explodium. But that makes it all the more interesting. If you don't listen to the good-bad narratice to know wether an action is good or bad, but analyse it according to your own moral framework (say, UPB), this movie is as educational as it is entertaining.
And entertaining it is. No shaking cameras, beautiful slo-mo sceneries (Shut up, I like them). And they find an in-universe explanation for that, too: The drug itself is Slo-Mo! Brilliant! There remains just one question: when you use 3D, then why do you still need this effect where you shift the camera focus from a far object to a near one? With all the techology we have, can't we show everything clear, so I can decide myself what object I focus on?
My two cents in a nutshell: I enjoyed it and whould have seen it again, whould it not have vanished from the cinemas within two weeks.
Looper:
It is also the age of the new and original story that has never been before! Looper is from the subgenre of science-fiction wherein a technology is introduced into a society that resembles ours. The difference is that it is not used by the scientist who invented it (e.g. Back To The Future) or the military/police (e.g. minority report), but by reckless criminals who cleverly use it for their own profit (e.g. Inception).
It's been a while since I watched it, and I lost my notes on this one, but I really liked it. Willis doesn't want to talk about how time travel works because he'd be ending up drawing diagrams with ketchup? Brilliant! And following the important 'show don't tell', we get to see what happens to future you if past you gets captured... One of the most memorable moments of time-travel science-fiction is that most unusual chase scene.
Other than that, the world we see is not too distant from ours, but the telekinesis comes out of nowhere, that may have been solved more smoothly. But what do I know about writing a screenplay?
I should do some reading on how to write a decent movie critique, this is closer to what I talked about with other viewers afterwards. See it yourself if you want to know how it is.
Oh, I also watched Atlas Shrugged and was kinda disappointed. It feels rushed, they have to cover 400 pages in one movie. Also, the collectivists are too obviously evil, i.e. doing it to gain control by knowing the right people. As far as I see it, the councils were established with the genuin purpose of doing the best for everyone, and people only turned to personal favourism after they saw that altruism doesn't work out.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Still alive
OK, noone reads the text walls here anyway, so the tl;dr version:
After the dunes up north, we went back to Auckland, dropped of Phillip, and Felix drove off to Opotiki, searching for a job. I looked around for one in Auckland, but had no luck. But I found out that doing nothing is a horrible thing when you have to make a conscious choice about it. I booked for one night, and in the evening of that night, I booked the next one. For two and a half weeks. When I snapped out of it and realised that the rest of the mails whould not be answered anyway, I made my way to Tauranga to get Auckalnd out of the system by being at the beach for a day or two. Then, I went to Whakatane and visited my favourite beach again, this time with camera. Internet here is slow, though.
In Opotiki, I spent a week with Felix and the other guests at the Central Oasis Backpackers. It feels like last time I've been there was centuries ago. Felix, I and Anne, one of his colleagues at work, make a day tour around the east cape, watching the sun rise over fog banks on the pacific from a cliff. We discover an old ruin and climb around there for hours, finding a bridge to wade underneath, a small lagoon with wood debris floating in the water, and a strange plastic pipe network. We constantly throw video game jokes around, great graphics and water physics, an old temple ā la Tomb Raider, ledges to balance along, you get the idea.
In the evening, we arrive in Gisborne, where I stay. They drive back to Opotiki, I travel along the east cost to Napier (gorgeous Art Deco Architecture) and Wellington, where I take the Ferry to the south island. Right now I am in Picton, the surprisingly small city where the ferry lands. I guess the cities only get smaller from here.
Maybe I'll try upload some photos later, the library has free internet.
Greetings,
Patrick
After the dunes up north, we went back to Auckland, dropped of Phillip, and Felix drove off to Opotiki, searching for a job. I looked around for one in Auckland, but had no luck. But I found out that doing nothing is a horrible thing when you have to make a conscious choice about it. I booked for one night, and in the evening of that night, I booked the next one. For two and a half weeks. When I snapped out of it and realised that the rest of the mails whould not be answered anyway, I made my way to Tauranga to get Auckalnd out of the system by being at the beach for a day or two. Then, I went to Whakatane and visited my favourite beach again, this time with camera. Internet here is slow, though.
In Opotiki, I spent a week with Felix and the other guests at the Central Oasis Backpackers. It feels like last time I've been there was centuries ago. Felix, I and Anne, one of his colleagues at work, make a day tour around the east cape, watching the sun rise over fog banks on the pacific from a cliff. We discover an old ruin and climb around there for hours, finding a bridge to wade underneath, a small lagoon with wood debris floating in the water, and a strange plastic pipe network. We constantly throw video game jokes around, great graphics and water physics, an old temple ā la Tomb Raider, ledges to balance along, you get the idea.
In the evening, we arrive in Gisborne, where I stay. They drive back to Opotiki, I travel along the east cost to Napier (gorgeous Art Deco Architecture) and Wellington, where I take the Ferry to the south island. Right now I am in Picton, the surprisingly small city where the ferry lands. I guess the cities only get smaller from here.
Maybe I'll try upload some photos later, the library has free internet.
Greetings,
Patrick
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
creative writing
I have been planning on a storyline for a book for quite some time now. Then, I decided to get started and write a paragraph:
\begin{document}
They were passing the imaginary line that divided french ocean from international waters unnoticed; noone started to cheer or applaud, in fact, the only one who took note of that moment was Steve Moore, silently watching a computer monitor on the bridge. He was a short man in his late thirties, his dark hair retreating, wearing a dark blue business suit minus jacket and tie. When the arrow of the ship passed the line, he smiled. Here, he was free. Free from the paper-pushers and their regulations. Free to push the boundaries of scientific research as far as possible, without restraints. There whould still be people to lecture him on what he ought not to do, but here, he didn't have to listen.
He remembered the negotiations, the discussions he had with countless people representing countless businesses; pharma corporations, genetic and medical research facilities, manufacturers of laboratory equipment and many people who simply had money and the determination to turn it into more money. It wasn't easy to persuade them, in some cases, he didn't get what he wanted. But he got enough to buy this old container ship [data on ship here] and reshape its interiour into laboratories with the best equipment and every thinkable precaution to work with infectious diseases of all sorts, much safer in fact as most nations regulations whould require. This was a long-term investment, he had argued, it will be worth the money it cost. With the same argument he defended the design of the living space, two rows of of eight transport container stacks on deck, refurbished into appartments, with large windows facing the ocean. No salary could make a top scientist live in windowless bunks for months and years. Maybe the promise of unrestricted research could, but the stacks had the advantage that they could be topped up if needed.
Moore turned to the Craig Webber, the ship's captain [description here] who was already busy giving orders to his crew. When the engines stopped, everyone on board noticed the sudden lack of background humming and vibrating.
\end{document}
After this I realised how little I thought about the little details. So, I read myself through
www.how-to-write-a-book-now.com
After thinking of a good way to train my writing style, I realise that my brain comes up with crazy creative stuff every other night, so I decided to change my neutral, boring dream log and write them down more lively, maybe add or edit some stuff. First results:
\paragraph{25.09.12}
In the ruins of an old castle, me and several hired goons were completing the task of resurrecting a vampire. His written instructions included the location of three silver knives that never saw the light of the day, hidden in a wooden box inside the castle ruins. With theese knives, a virgin was to be sacrificed and her blood spread on the vampires coffin. I placed the knives next to the coffin, but a large creature jumped out of the shades and knocked the knives into the sunlight. I fought the beast throughout the castle grounds and finally shoved it down the tower. Soon, the goons were returning, with the bad news of not having found a virgin to sacrifice. Instead, I settled on a piece of bloody steak, its lifejuice pressed out and spread on the coffin with a silver spoon from the castle kitchen. It still worked, and the vampire was all too pleased with his regained strength as to punish us for our incompetence to follow his instructions.
Me and two of my travelmates were driving out of Auckland to find an event somewhere in the outskirts. We failed to find it, and I embarked on foot back to the city. Instead of taking the highway we came, I took a smaller street, trusting my sense of orientation to guide me back to Auckland. I was tired, and may have taken a wrong turn once or twice, but finally found a small town, with a decor like modern designers wanted it to look like a wild west settlement. Upon closer inspection, I found that the whole town was actually an amusement park. I looked at the park map to find my way back to Auckland, failing to see the fun in a house composed entirely of slides, a cliff to climb, and caves filled with sand to crawl through. I had to take the way through the caves, but merely saw the sand and the other kids as an inconvenience on my way.
\paragraph{27.09.12}
The corridor maze was huge. The narrow corridors were the brightest white, intersecting each other every other step; and between intersections, doorways led to stairways up and down a level, to identical corridor grids. Our group of three was hurrying around, not knowing where we were going. My colleague and I were constantly but fruitlessly trying to keep ahead and behind the princess to protect her from any hazard this maze might hold. Instead of ordering us where to go, she went ahead herself.
Our mission, to find and defeat the ten bosses, was going rather slow, we had not encounterd any of them, or anything else, for that matter. After wandering for a while, I found a piece of orange chalk and began to mark the intersections we were taking. It didn't take long to find out that we were running in circles; I persuaded the princess to turn back to another part of the level, out of the white maze. My argument was that the first boss had to be in an earlyer part of the level. Luckily, she agreed.
We climbed up every stairway we could find and soon, we were at the bottom of a high room, like a rocket silo. I climbed up a small balcony that was one level above the floor, where I found a portrait of Motivation, depicted by Alan Rickman. "Hey, look at this", I shouted, "some kind of easter egg!" When I turned to jump down the other side, I saw Motivation himself sitting at a small table in a comfortable chair, drinking tea. He smiled at me. "You've remembered what you came for. The bosses." "Yes", I replied, "but we are far behind the others already!" Motivation chuckled. "Don't think that you are the only party with problems. You found your focus, that takes you far ahead of some of the others already!" "So, we do have a chance?" "Quite so", Motivation answered in Alan Rickman's rich, dark voice, "You have found focus and... Motivation". He smiled and waved at me. "I can only get you so far. I can throw the dice for you, so to speak, but you have to move your piece yourself. Understand?" I nodded and turned to the handrail of the balcony. Before I jumped down to the others, I looked back, but he was gone, of course. With his words in mind, I led the others back to the entry of the level to start the search over.
\begin{document}
They were passing the imaginary line that divided french ocean from international waters unnoticed; noone started to cheer or applaud, in fact, the only one who took note of that moment was Steve Moore, silently watching a computer monitor on the bridge. He was a short man in his late thirties, his dark hair retreating, wearing a dark blue business suit minus jacket and tie. When the arrow of the ship passed the line, he smiled. Here, he was free. Free from the paper-pushers and their regulations. Free to push the boundaries of scientific research as far as possible, without restraints. There whould still be people to lecture him on what he ought not to do, but here, he didn't have to listen.
He remembered the negotiations, the discussions he had with countless people representing countless businesses; pharma corporations, genetic and medical research facilities, manufacturers of laboratory equipment and many people who simply had money and the determination to turn it into more money. It wasn't easy to persuade them, in some cases, he didn't get what he wanted. But he got enough to buy this old container ship [data on ship here] and reshape its interiour into laboratories with the best equipment and every thinkable precaution to work with infectious diseases of all sorts, much safer in fact as most nations regulations whould require. This was a long-term investment, he had argued, it will be worth the money it cost. With the same argument he defended the design of the living space, two rows of of eight transport container stacks on deck, refurbished into appartments, with large windows facing the ocean. No salary could make a top scientist live in windowless bunks for months and years. Maybe the promise of unrestricted research could, but the stacks had the advantage that they could be topped up if needed.
Moore turned to the Craig Webber, the ship's captain [description here] who was already busy giving orders to his crew. When the engines stopped, everyone on board noticed the sudden lack of background humming and vibrating.
\end{document}
After this I realised how little I thought about the little details. So, I read myself through
www.how-to-write-a-book-now.com
After thinking of a good way to train my writing style, I realise that my brain comes up with crazy creative stuff every other night, so I decided to change my neutral, boring dream log and write them down more lively, maybe add or edit some stuff. First results:
\paragraph{25.09.12}
In the ruins of an old castle, me and several hired goons were completing the task of resurrecting a vampire. His written instructions included the location of three silver knives that never saw the light of the day, hidden in a wooden box inside the castle ruins. With theese knives, a virgin was to be sacrificed and her blood spread on the vampires coffin. I placed the knives next to the coffin, but a large creature jumped out of the shades and knocked the knives into the sunlight. I fought the beast throughout the castle grounds and finally shoved it down the tower. Soon, the goons were returning, with the bad news of not having found a virgin to sacrifice. Instead, I settled on a piece of bloody steak, its lifejuice pressed out and spread on the coffin with a silver spoon from the castle kitchen. It still worked, and the vampire was all too pleased with his regained strength as to punish us for our incompetence to follow his instructions.
Me and two of my travelmates were driving out of Auckland to find an event somewhere in the outskirts. We failed to find it, and I embarked on foot back to the city. Instead of taking the highway we came, I took a smaller street, trusting my sense of orientation to guide me back to Auckland. I was tired, and may have taken a wrong turn once or twice, but finally found a small town, with a decor like modern designers wanted it to look like a wild west settlement. Upon closer inspection, I found that the whole town was actually an amusement park. I looked at the park map to find my way back to Auckland, failing to see the fun in a house composed entirely of slides, a cliff to climb, and caves filled with sand to crawl through. I had to take the way through the caves, but merely saw the sand and the other kids as an inconvenience on my way.
\paragraph{27.09.12}
The corridor maze was huge. The narrow corridors were the brightest white, intersecting each other every other step; and between intersections, doorways led to stairways up and down a level, to identical corridor grids. Our group of three was hurrying around, not knowing where we were going. My colleague and I were constantly but fruitlessly trying to keep ahead and behind the princess to protect her from any hazard this maze might hold. Instead of ordering us where to go, she went ahead herself.
Our mission, to find and defeat the ten bosses, was going rather slow, we had not encounterd any of them, or anything else, for that matter. After wandering for a while, I found a piece of orange chalk and began to mark the intersections we were taking. It didn't take long to find out that we were running in circles; I persuaded the princess to turn back to another part of the level, out of the white maze. My argument was that the first boss had to be in an earlyer part of the level. Luckily, she agreed.
We climbed up every stairway we could find and soon, we were at the bottom of a high room, like a rocket silo. I climbed up a small balcony that was one level above the floor, where I found a portrait of Motivation, depicted by Alan Rickman. "Hey, look at this", I shouted, "some kind of easter egg!" When I turned to jump down the other side, I saw Motivation himself sitting at a small table in a comfortable chair, drinking tea. He smiled at me. "You've remembered what you came for. The bosses." "Yes", I replied, "but we are far behind the others already!" Motivation chuckled. "Don't think that you are the only party with problems. You found your focus, that takes you far ahead of some of the others already!" "So, we do have a chance?" "Quite so", Motivation answered in Alan Rickman's rich, dark voice, "You have found focus and... Motivation". He smiled and waved at me. "I can only get you so far. I can throw the dice for you, so to speak, but you have to move your piece yourself. Understand?" I nodded and turned to the handrail of the balcony. Before I jumped down to the others, I looked back, but he was gone, of course. With his words in mind, I led the others back to the entry of the level to start the search over.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Resident Evil
So, I went on a marathon, four movies in two days. They really do get better after each one, but they don't find their path. Here's a help, an ought-to-be: Resident Evil can become the Bond-movie for the zombie-franchise, like the bond-movies themselves are for the spy/action department. At the end of one movie, just as Alice and her group made it to whatever is the symbol for safety (the surface, a ship, a town, etc.), a new wave of goons gets into formation. In the first few minutes of the next, that fight is fought and the situation dealt with, to go to the movie's main storyline, Alice roaming the zombiefied world and finding a new group of survivors, whom she helps in their various hideouts and fortresses and whatever else the zombie-fan fantasises about. And in the end, we find another umbrella facility with another umbrella operative to give us some umbrella backstory, some exposition, something for the science fiction fan such as myself to enjoy. Alice makes it to safety, new enemy wave, end of movie. One might think that this is as idiot-proof as James Bond ending one movie with one girl in his arms and beginning the next movie with another one. Within the first four parts a pattern like this is more-or-less established.
The fifth one, the new one, blows it; which is a shame because it starts by resolving the last movie's helicopter threat in two minutes. Alice loosing consciousness and waking up as if nothing happenes? Why not, we have to get her to the new plot somehow. From then on, it's a thousand small things, stolen from a thousand other things: mother-instincts from Metroid Other M, organic people pods on walls from Duke Nukem Forever, test chambers from Portal, flooding various landmarks from Roland Emmerich, breaking bones in x-ray vision from Tekken (or was it Street fighter?). Why even show this, we don't see the screen of a medical scanner, its just out of nowhere. We also see the camera images in the chambers, the first-person-perspective of the red queen, so to speak. All right so far, been done, but why show us the picture of the girl (red queen's avatar)? Who is she talking to? Another thing: why is the a.i. all of a sudden evil? I think they forgot what she was doing in the first movie. Yes, she said 'you're all going to die down here', but it was not a threat, merely a piece of information, a fact. The a.i. was programmed to keep the virus separate from uninfected humans, at all costs. She was protecting humanity in the first movie by sealing the facility off. And now, in part five, she wants to get rid of all humans all of a sudden? WTF!
Two ideas to make this interesting again: One, wait five years and make a prequel to the franchise, like everyone is doing these days. Two, make a couple swap: Let Len Wiseman direct the next Resident Evil movie, and in turn Paul Anderson can direct the next 90's science fiction movie remake starring Kate Beckinsale. That way, I don't have to sit in the cinema with the lingering thought that I am watching Paul Anderson's fifth installment of the 'my wife is so hot' franchise.
The fifth one, the new one, blows it; which is a shame because it starts by resolving the last movie's helicopter threat in two minutes. Alice loosing consciousness and waking up as if nothing happenes? Why not, we have to get her to the new plot somehow. From then on, it's a thousand small things, stolen from a thousand other things: mother-instincts from Metroid Other M, organic people pods on walls from Duke Nukem Forever, test chambers from Portal, flooding various landmarks from Roland Emmerich, breaking bones in x-ray vision from Tekken (or was it Street fighter?). Why even show this, we don't see the screen of a medical scanner, its just out of nowhere. We also see the camera images in the chambers, the first-person-perspective of the red queen, so to speak. All right so far, been done, but why show us the picture of the girl (red queen's avatar)? Who is she talking to? Another thing: why is the a.i. all of a sudden evil? I think they forgot what she was doing in the first movie. Yes, she said 'you're all going to die down here', but it was not a threat, merely a piece of information, a fact. The a.i. was programmed to keep the virus separate from uninfected humans, at all costs. She was protecting humanity in the first movie by sealing the facility off. And now, in part five, she wants to get rid of all humans all of a sudden? WTF!
Two ideas to make this interesting again: One, wait five years and make a prequel to the franchise, like everyone is doing these days. Two, make a couple swap: Let Len Wiseman direct the next Resident Evil movie, and in turn Paul Anderson can direct the next 90's science fiction movie remake starring Kate Beckinsale. That way, I don't have to sit in the cinema with the lingering thought that I am watching Paul Anderson's fifth installment of the 'my wife is so hot' franchise.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Best Short Film
Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment we all have been waiting for. The short movie from the New Zealand International Film Festival (NZIFF) that won the Mobi Award for Laughing One's Lungs Out (malolo) is online:
Mulvar is Correct Candidate!
Enjoy!
Mulvar is Correct Candidate!
Enjoy!
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Feast your eyes
The waterfalls at lake Taupo.
The painted hostel walls.
Me.
The tunnel to the elevator, in Wanganui. Looks like the intro to 'city of ember'
How to drive through a mountain without a tunnel.
A tunnel. Also, a weird ghost effect.
A fabulous mirror-shot. At 50 km/h. On the Forgotten World Highway.
fyi: The beard is gone by now.
So, half the time is up, as people tell me. If I'll come back next february, that'll be right. However, I might as well come back earlier, or visit some other part of the world since wherever I go it'll be on the way from here to Europe. Felix plans, for instance, to travel through Asia and Mongolia to Russia, then take the Trans-Siberian Railroad to Europe. Maybe I'll join him, who knows. I'm not here to make plans, I am here to do whatever I want whenever I want it. Worked extraordinarily well so far.
If you don't leave a comment you will receive every chainmail in existence.
Greetings,
Patrick
ps there's more:
the elevator at the end of the tunnel.
Forgotten World Highway.
Lemon and Paeora in Paeora, the capital of some obscure but delicious lemonade. In Paeroa.
Face reflecting flashlight in some glowworm caves in Waikato.
Still the caves.
Up the highest structure in the southern hemisphere, the Sky Tower. vltr. Philipp, Patrick, Sabine, Felix
A playground in Thames.
A FUN playground in Thames!
Ninety Mile Beach (No need to get jealous, it's actually just 90 Kilometers ;-)
Dunes at Cape Reinga, the northern end of the north island.
Who needs a sandworm...
...when you got one of theese?
ARRAKIS! DUNE!
Thursday, August 23, 2012
last month
One day, you tell people via mail that you update the blog tomorrow, and then you discover that the library is closed sundays. And then you meet some friends from kiwi-picking times. And then they take you along to the next national park, where you spend two days away from civilisation. And then your next hostels don't have internet. And next you know it, a whole month has passed. Time feels weird here.
tl;dr: Write in the comments when you saw your own blood for the last time. Incidentally, I am alive and well.
\paragraph{29.07.12}
Generally speaking, the world is my oyster. Gymnasium and three years of University made me a member of the top 5% (own estimate). Whatever I'll do, there is just no way I won't land on my feet. There's jobs everywhere for our kind. Some say that that's a New Zealand thing, and in Germany the situation is harder. But I got jobs at the youth club 'kamp' and the tele-market-research company, which earned me plenty to survive. I envied the rich and the famous, for Europe seemed their playground. Then I travelled around the world on a student's budget and realised how fortunate I am, that the whole world can be my playground. Just a thought. Today I watched 'Ai Weiwei - never sorry', a documentary by and about Ai Weiwei, a chinese anti-government artist who (amongst other things) made photos of his middle fingers pointing at various government buildings around the world, and a video installation with various chinese people, stating in their native dialect: 'fuck you motherland'. A very interesting insight into the mind of an artist. I also watched 'from up on poppy hill', an anime film about a student romance. Beautiful visuals, though I prefer stories that delve into the fantastic. In the evening, I went to a get-together at the Civic Wintergarden with the artist of 'inhale-exhale' who made a photo and video installation showing a woman underwater with fish, ink and lighting. He lived all around the world but only recently got his foot into the bigger doors. Unfortunately, there was no time to delve further into his history. A great experience talking to a crazyhead with smooth jazz in the background and other moviegoers around.
\paragraph{30.07.12}
Today's movies: 'marina abramovic: the artist is present', a portrait about the first performance artist to get an exhibition of the same name in the moma. The artist was present, indeed. For three months, she was in the museum six days a week, twelve hours a day. She sat on a chair and visitors could sit in the chair opposing her. She didn't speak, she merely looked at them. Very intense, even channeled through a movie. I also watched 'on the road', an interpretation of Kerouac's famous novel. The movie got to me, because I, too, am 'on the road' for quite a while now. Though my lifestyle still differs from the ones pictured. Makes one think about the 'why'. On a lighter note, Kirsten Steward showed that she has more than one facial expression.
\paragraph{31.07.12}
Today, I watched 'bert stern: original madman', a portrait about the photographer. He tried to live fast and die young, but failed on the latter. Not as impressive as Marina Abramovic, but still a decent movie, one I can take ideas for my own life from.
\paragraph{01.08.12}
Today: 'animation now 2012', short animated films, some of them very funny. Especially hilarious is 'mulvar is correct candidate'. I also see 'abiogenesis', which preceeded 'sound of my voice' some days earlier and which I couldn't see then. At the hostel, Frank and I discuss movies. Turns out he is not too bad when sober. Later that day I watch 'the king of pigs', a south korean animation (or anime? no idea), a story about bullying and violence in a (south korean) school. Makes me think. Even the laughs of the audience make me think, because it's at moments I whouldn't think about laughing. Definetly a movie the film club should watch.
\paragraph{02.08.12}
'a monster in paris': Animation about a monster in Paris (duh). Fun and with wonderful songs, but ultimately predictable. A kid's movie [not a judgement, I like kid's movies]. 'pink ribbons inc.': A documentary about the evil breast cancer awareness companies fundraising money from gullible people. A movie with almost no numbers. They showed the companies emotional approach towards their targets (i.e. donators) but they make their point by emotional means, too. Still, the movie as a whole was a remarkable example of how stupid masses can be controlled by both sides of a medal. Some scenes of the awareness movement reminded me of religious methods. If you are experiencing trouble focussing while you watch this, try to guess at what point I loudly stated, for the audience to hear: 'testify!'. Third movie of the day: 'vulgaria'. If Quentin Tarantino was chinese, this whould have been his early work. Over the top, but awesome. Including the soundtrack. I possibly had the best experience because I sat in the first row and the speakers were a bit loud. Very funny was the fact that I arrived a bit late at the cinema, and there was still a long line outside. I wasn't sure if it was my line, so I went to the entry to ask. The girl who came towards me saw the ticket in my hands and told me to walk right through. I was the first one in the theater [note: gets half of my 'best movie I have seen on the festival'-award].
\paragraph{03.08.12}
'compliance': Based on a true telephone prank (multiples, actually). A police officer calls a fast food restaurant and asks the manager to take a young female employee in the back room and conduct a strip search due to a theft filed by a customer. Every piece of information needed is given away by the manager herself. A brilliant study on gullability and the assumed authority and good intent of 'an officer of the law'. 'no': If you liked 'wag the dog', this is your movie. The mind behind the 'no' tv ad campaign for the poll about keeping the chilean dictator Pinochet. Which, naturally, is torpeded by the dictator's 'yes' campaigners.
\paragraph{04.08.12}
'holy motors': The official program states that the movie stays 'conspicuously unrewarded' at Cannes. So, getting no rewards is a good thing, then? Yes, it is. This movie made my mind boggle. We follow Mr Oscar, who is driven around Paris in a stretch limo with all sorts of masquerade material. He has various 'appointments' to do. What exactly is his job? Who are his customers, his financiers? I came up with dozens of possible explanations and backstories while watching, only to be prooven wrong with the next appointment. The advertised song by Madonna is ill-placed and doesn't really serve the movie. The two other musicial pieces, however, were great. See it, and don't look it up beforehand! This is what I meant by 'What' is important, not 'Why' [other half of my best movie award].
\paragraph{05.08.12}
'how to meet girls from a distance': A New Zealand made movie, its world premiere, in fact. In the first half, I was on the brink of walking out of the cinema. The only one preventing me from doing so was the comic relief character. Is there an english word for 'fremdschaemen'? The second half, however, was better. The official aesop about love can be thrown out of the window, and replaced by my favourite character's own one about honesty. Even though our main guy doesn't really get it. This movie shows the awkward side of the Barney Stinson livestyle, the side that should be considered before one becomes a life liar. 'whore's glory': Documentary about prostitution in Malaysia, India and Mexico. Quite shallow on information, but merely the try to squeeze a feel out of me. Fazit of the festival: 23 movies watched, more I didn't watch, several I wanted to watch (the ambassador, the angels share, bernie, bully, the cabin in the woods(y i didn't watch this?!), caesar must die, crazy horse, farewell my queen, le tableau, the minister, neighbouring sounds, reality (might have matched 'no'), room 237 an inquiry into the shining in 9 parts, side by side, the taste of money, and various short film copilations). An interesting experience with movies and whole genres I haven't even heared about before. Some day I might calculate how much money I spent on the festival. Also, and I cite: 'what is the most resilient parasite? A bacteria, A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea! Resilient, highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain, it's almost impossible to erradicate. An idea that is fully formed, fully understood, that sticks.' with the ideas of libertarianism, voluntarism, anarchism, capitalism in your brain, you can watch most of your favourite movies for a 'second first time', and some are completely different movies.
\paragraph{06.08.12}
Today I went to the doctor for my third hepatitis vaccination, the first two of which I took prior to my departure. Also, I had a lump in my throat for some days, like a cold but without the feeling of weakness. Just a minor inflammation, comes and goes. The vaccination is fast, no need for me to get it from the pharmacy, everything is fast, with short waiting periods. Propably because I have to pay it myself and reclaim the sum from my insurance. I also met Janis, a german guy who arrived just some days ago. I show him around in the city and tell him that I plan to get to Taupo tomorrow. He spontaneously decides to join me. We go to the Britomart transport center and book a bus.
\paragraph{07.08.12}
Getting up early and driving to Taupo. Getting to the Rainbow Lodge and booking three nights. Getting to the lake and trying to go to a small mountain, but it starts to rain, so we head back to the hostel.
\paragraph{08.08.12}
We start early on the walking track to the Haka Falls and beyond, to the dam, which opens at 2pm. We skip several interesting looking spots for the way back to be at the dam on time, but we're late anyway. It's 16 o'clock so we decide to hitchhike back. We get a ride quick and he says he'll put the sign we made from a Dunkin' Donut check from two days ago into his diary.
\paragraph{09.08.12}
I walk along the small pier at the lake and meet the owners of a sailing yacht which is about 80 years old and once belonged to Errol Flynn. They tell me that they make trips to the maori head carvings that are only visible from the water. I get my travel mate from the hostel and off we go. During the trip, the owner tells us that the yacht was once sailing around the world, was sold to his father in New Zealand from Fiji and was transported to the lake by truck about 30 years ago. At the carvings, he tells us that they are not genuine maori carvings, but the work of a pair of artists some years back. Still looks impressive.
\paragraph{10.08.12}
I book three more nights, but my travel mate leaves to Northland because he got a call confirming a wwhoofing place there ['wwhoof', willing workers helping on organic farms]. I don't do much due to the rain.
\paragraph{11.08.12}
I want to walk to one of the smaller mountains around, but after quite a while of walking, I am still in a suburb and the mountain looks as far as ever. I ask around and am informed that it's about 15 kilometers away, and it takes hours to get up. I decide to take some other path through the suburb back. It looks like I imagine America to look like. Endless roads, broad enough for a strip of green between street and sidewalk, and endless hedges and fences behind which you can see house after house. It's a pre-9/11 America, people are friendly (then again, NZ is place 2 in obesity and has the highest rate of kfc per person).
\paragraph{12.08.12}
Today I read 'Atlas Shrugged' all day. The story got me. I begin the day at the point where they find the motor remains and end at the point where America is transformed into a People's State. Interesting, Ayn Rand uses Phlebtonium AND a MacGuffin. And I can't shake the feeling that the Phlebtonium will be necessarry to make the MacGuffin work. The guy in the mirror looks more awesome than ever [whereever that came from].
\paragraph{13.08.12}
I walk to the falls and encounter a small side stream entering the river in a small, murky waterfall. I want to know what is on the other side and after a bit of hesitation, I jump. I grab any brush I can find on the other side, then sharply realise there are thorns as two sting me in my left hand, one quite deep. I pull them out, and think about the last time I saw my own blood. I couldn't recall. Behind the falls, there are the 'craters of the moon', a sulphur field and my destination for today. There is a park around them with bike and horse treks. I walk along them, going left, going right. When I come along a map, I see that the shortest way back to the falls and the town is blocked due to logging work. I plan a route along several biking tracks, but get off track and make a part of my route through small, replanted needle trees. It's difficult to move along because of the thick underbrush. In the hostel, I met Felix again, who is travelling with his kindergarden friend Phillip, who is visitin him for three weeks. They agree to take me to Turangi, a town at the south end of Lake Taupo and north of the Tongariro National Park.
\paragraph{14.08.12}
Update from 21.08. Felix and Phillip give me a lift to Turangi, where I ask for the hike opportunities. As I knew, the great 'Tongariro Crossing' that every backpacker knows and that leads to the volcanic crater of 'Mt Doom' is closed due to the eruption some days ago. They tell me to see the scenic walk of the river instead, right next to town. Without alternatives, I agree and go to the cheapest bbh hostel, the 'Aplus Lodge'. It seems a bit like a hippie commune, with painted fences and several buildings connected by selfmade roof sections. It's nice. The people themselves make me think of the most stereotypic hillbillies ever, but once I get to understand the accents, they turn out quite nice. The hostel clerk asks me for my plans and I tell him about the river walk. He is shocked, for that is one boring plan. He pulls out a map of the national park and tells me about lower walks around and in between the peaks, which are still open. I choose a two day trip from east to west, between two of the peaks. He allows me to store some of my stuff at the hostel so my backpack is lighter and drops me off at the desert road, which I leave to the right into the desert which is freckled with low shrubs. After a while, I cross a forest, several small streams, then back through badland again. At the evening, I reach the hut, bigger than I expected. From my notes in the hut:
'' time flies when you're having fun'. And it does. This morning, I woke up for the seventh time in the 'Rainbow Lodge' in Taupo. Now, in the evening, I'm in the 'Waihohonu hut' in the Tongariro National Park, and propably alone for kilometers. Felix, whom I met yesterday (seems years ago), and his visiting friend Philipp, took me to Turangi, then drove on to Wellington to go sightseeing. The famous Tongariro Crossing, which takes you to the sight of 'Mt Doom', is closed due to the eruption just a week ago. I asked at the iSite for other tracks, but they all start some driving time away. Shuttle is expensive and needs a minimum of two people. They tell me that the river walkway along the city whould be nice, too. I go to the bbh hostel, which seems empty except for some painfully stereotypical hillbillies. The guy running the hostel laughs at my plan to see the river and shows me several possible walks, unsing the huts to spend the nights. I decide on a walk and he starts a checklist. He offers me a used gas cartridge, lends me one of his pots, lets me store some of my stuff (and the backpack goes on my back again) and even brings me to the start of the track in his car. I leave the road and walk a path only marked by posts with orange arrows. It's rainy, and the way goes through some shallow streams (or the water flows through the deeper parts of the walkway). The way goes through low bushes, forest, then bushes again. After some time, the sign 'you are now entering Tongariro National Park'. I walk on. The 'hut' is bigger than the expected log cabin, and it's mine. I heat the chimney and make rice with baked beans. DJ was right, after hours of walking, with a stunning view and noone around, that meal tastes better than anything I could remember. It's getting dark outside. I write in the light of the chimney and two candles. Good night. After what feels like an eternety, I get up from the cold to take a piss. Too cloudy to see stars. My mobile says it's nine pm. Guess that happens when you have no electric light and go to sleep at sundown. So, I reheat the cimney and build myself a matrass fortress against the cold. I'm far from it, but I think I have the faintest idea what DJ was talking about when describing his feeling of hopelessness and defeat when he was out of chocolate. Earlier in the hut, I ate the lollypop the last hostel manager gave me as a fare-well gift. Now, I am searching the table for its remains. I didn't bring 'Atlas Shrugged' because of the weight; now that I miss it I know I have made the right choice. It may be preferable to generic pop music, but it's still a distraction. To get the most of this experience, I have to feed my senses, and thus my mind, with reality only.'
\paragraph{15.08.12}
It is one cold morning. My matrass fortress couldn't fend off the cold. I walk around the room while my rice boils. After I pack, I leave for some springs, twenty minutes off the route. The way leads me through fantastic landscape with red stone and shrubs. The springs themselves are basically a pond of clear turquis water from which the stream emerges, one side enclosed by forest, the other by the red shrubby desert. Back on track, I head for the village. The way is only marked by wooden poles every other meter, no track, nothing. I am alone for kilometers. When the ground is too muddy or a stream too wide, there are planks and small bridges, but mostly I have to watch my step and climb over stones in the riverbeds. Either the way has been built in riverbeds or the water flows down the trampled down paths. With the bad weather and on-off rain, there is a small flow of water on some of the ways. The view, though, is magnificent. Despite the clouds, I can see the snow at the lower hangs of the south mountain, and later, as it clears, I can see clouds streaming over the top of the northern peak. It's a great feeling to see no other human, no human structures, nothing. I could be a time traveller thrown back into the past, or a survivor after some catastrophy. With the only animals around being small birds, I have to think of the book 'Jurassic Park' I found at the hostel in Taupo, and almost anticipate a pack of raptors jumping down the next hill. Somewhere, not even distinct enough a place to be the middle of nowhere, I scream 'I am significant' towards a small river and the hill I just came down from. Like Calvin (from Calvin and Hobbes), I might as well add 'screamed the dust speck'. The half mark of todays way is a signpost. Three hours to the hut the way I came, two and a half the way to the village, and ten minutes to a lake. I meet people there, we greet and I go to the lake. Quite far away, but a stunning view nontheless. Back at the signpost, I have a can of beans before I head on. This part is more crowded, I meet some groups on my way, from the village, on day trips to the lakes. I see more rivers, two huge waterfalls and another, huge chunk of forest at the last part of the walk. From the village, I hitchhike back to Turangi and surprise the hostel clerk with my early appearance. Before, I planned to stay in another hut for another day, but I am exhausted. I get to sleep at once.
\paragraph{16.08.12}
I sleep till noon and don't do much the day. I try to read Ayn Rand, but immediately after the dose of reality I had, even this seems shallow and uninteresting. Turns out, even my my mind is saturated from time to time. If I keep feeding it, it will keep hungry in the long run.
\paragraph{17.08.12}
Another lazy day at the hostel. I make plans to go to Wanganui at the coast, to get picked up by Felix and Phillip for our trip to the Forgotten world Highway. The next bus leaves the next day. I book and find a frying joint where I try a fried mars bar. Delicious and molten.
\paragraph{18.08.12}
I take the bus to Wanganui, check in for two days, borrow a cycle and drive around a bit. I discover the library, which has free internet. I return with my netbook, but since it is saturday, they open shortly after I set up.
\paragraph{19.08.12}
Turns out, the library is closed on sunday, something I am not used to anymore, because here, everything is open at any day. Instead, I take the bike to a tunnel and elevator through a section of mountain, up to a viewpoint tower. It looks interesting, circular with three stone beams at the side. It's built from this sponge-esque volcanic stone and has a metal cage on top so noone falls out, which looks like a huge drop of water. The weather is not too bad, the view is still great. Back at the hostel, guess who comes in the front door, Felix and Phillip.
\paragraph{20.08.12}
We pack our things and leave Wanganui for Stratford at Mt Egmond. We find the only bbh hostel to be in what seems to be a run-down military barracks, but it has a nice horror-movie charm, which inspires Felix and me to think of what might happen to us here. When one of the other residents, a Maori, starts making remarks about how german chainsaws are the best and if we knew this famous nazi-doctor, we are delighted. In town, we shop for ingredients and make steamed pasta. Quite delicious, succulent and sufficient to say the least.
That's it so far. I got some music from a fellow backpacker, some of it it matches my situation perfectly:
'himmelblau' by die Aerzte
'Abschiedslied' by Farin Urlaub
'am Strand' by Farin Urlaub
tl;dr: Write in the comments when you saw your own blood for the last time. Incidentally, I am alive and well.
\paragraph{29.07.12}
Generally speaking, the world is my oyster. Gymnasium and three years of University made me a member of the top 5% (own estimate). Whatever I'll do, there is just no way I won't land on my feet. There's jobs everywhere for our kind. Some say that that's a New Zealand thing, and in Germany the situation is harder. But I got jobs at the youth club 'kamp' and the tele-market-research company, which earned me plenty to survive. I envied the rich and the famous, for Europe seemed their playground. Then I travelled around the world on a student's budget and realised how fortunate I am, that the whole world can be my playground. Just a thought. Today I watched 'Ai Weiwei - never sorry', a documentary by and about Ai Weiwei, a chinese anti-government artist who (amongst other things) made photos of his middle fingers pointing at various government buildings around the world, and a video installation with various chinese people, stating in their native dialect: 'fuck you motherland'. A very interesting insight into the mind of an artist. I also watched 'from up on poppy hill', an anime film about a student romance. Beautiful visuals, though I prefer stories that delve into the fantastic. In the evening, I went to a get-together at the Civic Wintergarden with the artist of 'inhale-exhale' who made a photo and video installation showing a woman underwater with fish, ink and lighting. He lived all around the world but only recently got his foot into the bigger doors. Unfortunately, there was no time to delve further into his history. A great experience talking to a crazyhead with smooth jazz in the background and other moviegoers around.
\paragraph{30.07.12}
Today's movies: 'marina abramovic: the artist is present', a portrait about the first performance artist to get an exhibition of the same name in the moma. The artist was present, indeed. For three months, she was in the museum six days a week, twelve hours a day. She sat on a chair and visitors could sit in the chair opposing her. She didn't speak, she merely looked at them. Very intense, even channeled through a movie. I also watched 'on the road', an interpretation of Kerouac's famous novel. The movie got to me, because I, too, am 'on the road' for quite a while now. Though my lifestyle still differs from the ones pictured. Makes one think about the 'why'. On a lighter note, Kirsten Steward showed that she has more than one facial expression.
\paragraph{31.07.12}
Today, I watched 'bert stern: original madman', a portrait about the photographer. He tried to live fast and die young, but failed on the latter. Not as impressive as Marina Abramovic, but still a decent movie, one I can take ideas for my own life from.
\paragraph{01.08.12}
Today: 'animation now 2012', short animated films, some of them very funny. Especially hilarious is 'mulvar is correct candidate'. I also see 'abiogenesis', which preceeded 'sound of my voice' some days earlier and which I couldn't see then. At the hostel, Frank and I discuss movies. Turns out he is not too bad when sober. Later that day I watch 'the king of pigs', a south korean animation (or anime? no idea), a story about bullying and violence in a (south korean) school. Makes me think. Even the laughs of the audience make me think, because it's at moments I whouldn't think about laughing. Definetly a movie the film club should watch.
\paragraph{02.08.12}
'a monster in paris': Animation about a monster in Paris (duh). Fun and with wonderful songs, but ultimately predictable. A kid's movie [not a judgement, I like kid's movies]. 'pink ribbons inc.': A documentary about the evil breast cancer awareness companies fundraising money from gullible people. A movie with almost no numbers. They showed the companies emotional approach towards their targets (i.e. donators) but they make their point by emotional means, too. Still, the movie as a whole was a remarkable example of how stupid masses can be controlled by both sides of a medal. Some scenes of the awareness movement reminded me of religious methods. If you are experiencing trouble focussing while you watch this, try to guess at what point I loudly stated, for the audience to hear: 'testify!'. Third movie of the day: 'vulgaria'. If Quentin Tarantino was chinese, this whould have been his early work. Over the top, but awesome. Including the soundtrack. I possibly had the best experience because I sat in the first row and the speakers were a bit loud. Very funny was the fact that I arrived a bit late at the cinema, and there was still a long line outside. I wasn't sure if it was my line, so I went to the entry to ask. The girl who came towards me saw the ticket in my hands and told me to walk right through. I was the first one in the theater [note: gets half of my 'best movie I have seen on the festival'-award].
\paragraph{03.08.12}
'compliance': Based on a true telephone prank (multiples, actually). A police officer calls a fast food restaurant and asks the manager to take a young female employee in the back room and conduct a strip search due to a theft filed by a customer. Every piece of information needed is given away by the manager herself. A brilliant study on gullability and the assumed authority and good intent of 'an officer of the law'. 'no': If you liked 'wag the dog', this is your movie. The mind behind the 'no' tv ad campaign for the poll about keeping the chilean dictator Pinochet. Which, naturally, is torpeded by the dictator's 'yes' campaigners.
\paragraph{04.08.12}
'holy motors': The official program states that the movie stays 'conspicuously unrewarded' at Cannes. So, getting no rewards is a good thing, then? Yes, it is. This movie made my mind boggle. We follow Mr Oscar, who is driven around Paris in a stretch limo with all sorts of masquerade material. He has various 'appointments' to do. What exactly is his job? Who are his customers, his financiers? I came up with dozens of possible explanations and backstories while watching, only to be prooven wrong with the next appointment. The advertised song by Madonna is ill-placed and doesn't really serve the movie. The two other musicial pieces, however, were great. See it, and don't look it up beforehand! This is what I meant by 'What' is important, not 'Why' [other half of my best movie award].
\paragraph{05.08.12}
'how to meet girls from a distance': A New Zealand made movie, its world premiere, in fact. In the first half, I was on the brink of walking out of the cinema. The only one preventing me from doing so was the comic relief character. Is there an english word for 'fremdschaemen'? The second half, however, was better. The official aesop about love can be thrown out of the window, and replaced by my favourite character's own one about honesty. Even though our main guy doesn't really get it. This movie shows the awkward side of the Barney Stinson livestyle, the side that should be considered before one becomes a life liar. 'whore's glory': Documentary about prostitution in Malaysia, India and Mexico. Quite shallow on information, but merely the try to squeeze a feel out of me. Fazit of the festival: 23 movies watched, more I didn't watch, several I wanted to watch (the ambassador, the angels share, bernie, bully, the cabin in the woods(y i didn't watch this?!), caesar must die, crazy horse, farewell my queen, le tableau, the minister, neighbouring sounds, reality (might have matched 'no'), room 237 an inquiry into the shining in 9 parts, side by side, the taste of money, and various short film copilations). An interesting experience with movies and whole genres I haven't even heared about before. Some day I might calculate how much money I spent on the festival. Also, and I cite: 'what is the most resilient parasite? A bacteria, A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea! Resilient, highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain, it's almost impossible to erradicate. An idea that is fully formed, fully understood, that sticks.' with the ideas of libertarianism, voluntarism, anarchism, capitalism in your brain, you can watch most of your favourite movies for a 'second first time', and some are completely different movies.
\paragraph{06.08.12}
Today I went to the doctor for my third hepatitis vaccination, the first two of which I took prior to my departure. Also, I had a lump in my throat for some days, like a cold but without the feeling of weakness. Just a minor inflammation, comes and goes. The vaccination is fast, no need for me to get it from the pharmacy, everything is fast, with short waiting periods. Propably because I have to pay it myself and reclaim the sum from my insurance. I also met Janis, a german guy who arrived just some days ago. I show him around in the city and tell him that I plan to get to Taupo tomorrow. He spontaneously decides to join me. We go to the Britomart transport center and book a bus.
\paragraph{07.08.12}
Getting up early and driving to Taupo. Getting to the Rainbow Lodge and booking three nights. Getting to the lake and trying to go to a small mountain, but it starts to rain, so we head back to the hostel.
\paragraph{08.08.12}
We start early on the walking track to the Haka Falls and beyond, to the dam, which opens at 2pm. We skip several interesting looking spots for the way back to be at the dam on time, but we're late anyway. It's 16 o'clock so we decide to hitchhike back. We get a ride quick and he says he'll put the sign we made from a Dunkin' Donut check from two days ago into his diary.
\paragraph{09.08.12}
I walk along the small pier at the lake and meet the owners of a sailing yacht which is about 80 years old and once belonged to Errol Flynn. They tell me that they make trips to the maori head carvings that are only visible from the water. I get my travel mate from the hostel and off we go. During the trip, the owner tells us that the yacht was once sailing around the world, was sold to his father in New Zealand from Fiji and was transported to the lake by truck about 30 years ago. At the carvings, he tells us that they are not genuine maori carvings, but the work of a pair of artists some years back. Still looks impressive.
\paragraph{10.08.12}
I book three more nights, but my travel mate leaves to Northland because he got a call confirming a wwhoofing place there ['wwhoof', willing workers helping on organic farms]. I don't do much due to the rain.
\paragraph{11.08.12}
I want to walk to one of the smaller mountains around, but after quite a while of walking, I am still in a suburb and the mountain looks as far as ever. I ask around and am informed that it's about 15 kilometers away, and it takes hours to get up. I decide to take some other path through the suburb back. It looks like I imagine America to look like. Endless roads, broad enough for a strip of green between street and sidewalk, and endless hedges and fences behind which you can see house after house. It's a pre-9/11 America, people are friendly (then again, NZ is place 2 in obesity and has the highest rate of kfc per person).
\paragraph{12.08.12}
Today I read 'Atlas Shrugged' all day. The story got me. I begin the day at the point where they find the motor remains and end at the point where America is transformed into a People's State. Interesting, Ayn Rand uses Phlebtonium AND a MacGuffin. And I can't shake the feeling that the Phlebtonium will be necessarry to make the MacGuffin work. The guy in the mirror looks more awesome than ever [whereever that came from].
\paragraph{13.08.12}
I walk to the falls and encounter a small side stream entering the river in a small, murky waterfall. I want to know what is on the other side and after a bit of hesitation, I jump. I grab any brush I can find on the other side, then sharply realise there are thorns as two sting me in my left hand, one quite deep. I pull them out, and think about the last time I saw my own blood. I couldn't recall. Behind the falls, there are the 'craters of the moon', a sulphur field and my destination for today. There is a park around them with bike and horse treks. I walk along them, going left, going right. When I come along a map, I see that the shortest way back to the falls and the town is blocked due to logging work. I plan a route along several biking tracks, but get off track and make a part of my route through small, replanted needle trees. It's difficult to move along because of the thick underbrush. In the hostel, I met Felix again, who is travelling with his kindergarden friend Phillip, who is visitin him for three weeks. They agree to take me to Turangi, a town at the south end of Lake Taupo and north of the Tongariro National Park.
\paragraph{14.08.12}
Update from 21.08. Felix and Phillip give me a lift to Turangi, where I ask for the hike opportunities. As I knew, the great 'Tongariro Crossing' that every backpacker knows and that leads to the volcanic crater of 'Mt Doom' is closed due to the eruption some days ago. They tell me to see the scenic walk of the river instead, right next to town. Without alternatives, I agree and go to the cheapest bbh hostel, the 'Aplus Lodge'. It seems a bit like a hippie commune, with painted fences and several buildings connected by selfmade roof sections. It's nice. The people themselves make me think of the most stereotypic hillbillies ever, but once I get to understand the accents, they turn out quite nice. The hostel clerk asks me for my plans and I tell him about the river walk. He is shocked, for that is one boring plan. He pulls out a map of the national park and tells me about lower walks around and in between the peaks, which are still open. I choose a two day trip from east to west, between two of the peaks. He allows me to store some of my stuff at the hostel so my backpack is lighter and drops me off at the desert road, which I leave to the right into the desert which is freckled with low shrubs. After a while, I cross a forest, several small streams, then back through badland again. At the evening, I reach the hut, bigger than I expected. From my notes in the hut:
'' time flies when you're having fun'. And it does. This morning, I woke up for the seventh time in the 'Rainbow Lodge' in Taupo. Now, in the evening, I'm in the 'Waihohonu hut' in the Tongariro National Park, and propably alone for kilometers. Felix, whom I met yesterday (seems years ago), and his visiting friend Philipp, took me to Turangi, then drove on to Wellington to go sightseeing. The famous Tongariro Crossing, which takes you to the sight of 'Mt Doom', is closed due to the eruption just a week ago. I asked at the iSite for other tracks, but they all start some driving time away. Shuttle is expensive and needs a minimum of two people. They tell me that the river walkway along the city whould be nice, too. I go to the bbh hostel, which seems empty except for some painfully stereotypical hillbillies. The guy running the hostel laughs at my plan to see the river and shows me several possible walks, unsing the huts to spend the nights. I decide on a walk and he starts a checklist. He offers me a used gas cartridge, lends me one of his pots, lets me store some of my stuff (and the backpack goes on my back again) and even brings me to the start of the track in his car. I leave the road and walk a path only marked by posts with orange arrows. It's rainy, and the way goes through some shallow streams (or the water flows through the deeper parts of the walkway). The way goes through low bushes, forest, then bushes again. After some time, the sign 'you are now entering Tongariro National Park'. I walk on. The 'hut' is bigger than the expected log cabin, and it's mine. I heat the chimney and make rice with baked beans. DJ was right, after hours of walking, with a stunning view and noone around, that meal tastes better than anything I could remember. It's getting dark outside. I write in the light of the chimney and two candles. Good night. After what feels like an eternety, I get up from the cold to take a piss. Too cloudy to see stars. My mobile says it's nine pm. Guess that happens when you have no electric light and go to sleep at sundown. So, I reheat the cimney and build myself a matrass fortress against the cold. I'm far from it, but I think I have the faintest idea what DJ was talking about when describing his feeling of hopelessness and defeat when he was out of chocolate. Earlier in the hut, I ate the lollypop the last hostel manager gave me as a fare-well gift. Now, I am searching the table for its remains. I didn't bring 'Atlas Shrugged' because of the weight; now that I miss it I know I have made the right choice. It may be preferable to generic pop music, but it's still a distraction. To get the most of this experience, I have to feed my senses, and thus my mind, with reality only.'
\paragraph{15.08.12}
It is one cold morning. My matrass fortress couldn't fend off the cold. I walk around the room while my rice boils. After I pack, I leave for some springs, twenty minutes off the route. The way leads me through fantastic landscape with red stone and shrubs. The springs themselves are basically a pond of clear turquis water from which the stream emerges, one side enclosed by forest, the other by the red shrubby desert. Back on track, I head for the village. The way is only marked by wooden poles every other meter, no track, nothing. I am alone for kilometers. When the ground is too muddy or a stream too wide, there are planks and small bridges, but mostly I have to watch my step and climb over stones in the riverbeds. Either the way has been built in riverbeds or the water flows down the trampled down paths. With the bad weather and on-off rain, there is a small flow of water on some of the ways. The view, though, is magnificent. Despite the clouds, I can see the snow at the lower hangs of the south mountain, and later, as it clears, I can see clouds streaming over the top of the northern peak. It's a great feeling to see no other human, no human structures, nothing. I could be a time traveller thrown back into the past, or a survivor after some catastrophy. With the only animals around being small birds, I have to think of the book 'Jurassic Park' I found at the hostel in Taupo, and almost anticipate a pack of raptors jumping down the next hill. Somewhere, not even distinct enough a place to be the middle of nowhere, I scream 'I am significant' towards a small river and the hill I just came down from. Like Calvin (from Calvin and Hobbes), I might as well add 'screamed the dust speck'. The half mark of todays way is a signpost. Three hours to the hut the way I came, two and a half the way to the village, and ten minutes to a lake. I meet people there, we greet and I go to the lake. Quite far away, but a stunning view nontheless. Back at the signpost, I have a can of beans before I head on. This part is more crowded, I meet some groups on my way, from the village, on day trips to the lakes. I see more rivers, two huge waterfalls and another, huge chunk of forest at the last part of the walk. From the village, I hitchhike back to Turangi and surprise the hostel clerk with my early appearance. Before, I planned to stay in another hut for another day, but I am exhausted. I get to sleep at once.
\paragraph{16.08.12}
I sleep till noon and don't do much the day. I try to read Ayn Rand, but immediately after the dose of reality I had, even this seems shallow and uninteresting. Turns out, even my my mind is saturated from time to time. If I keep feeding it, it will keep hungry in the long run.
\paragraph{17.08.12}
Another lazy day at the hostel. I make plans to go to Wanganui at the coast, to get picked up by Felix and Phillip for our trip to the Forgotten world Highway. The next bus leaves the next day. I book and find a frying joint where I try a fried mars bar. Delicious and molten.
\paragraph{18.08.12}
I take the bus to Wanganui, check in for two days, borrow a cycle and drive around a bit. I discover the library, which has free internet. I return with my netbook, but since it is saturday, they open shortly after I set up.
\paragraph{19.08.12}
Turns out, the library is closed on sunday, something I am not used to anymore, because here, everything is open at any day. Instead, I take the bike to a tunnel and elevator through a section of mountain, up to a viewpoint tower. It looks interesting, circular with three stone beams at the side. It's built from this sponge-esque volcanic stone and has a metal cage on top so noone falls out, which looks like a huge drop of water. The weather is not too bad, the view is still great. Back at the hostel, guess who comes in the front door, Felix and Phillip.
\paragraph{20.08.12}
We pack our things and leave Wanganui for Stratford at Mt Egmond. We find the only bbh hostel to be in what seems to be a run-down military barracks, but it has a nice horror-movie charm, which inspires Felix and me to think of what might happen to us here. When one of the other residents, a Maori, starts making remarks about how german chainsaws are the best and if we knew this famous nazi-doctor, we are delighted. In town, we shop for ingredients and make steamed pasta. Quite delicious, succulent and sufficient to say the least.
That's it so far. I got some music from a fellow backpacker, some of it it matches my situation perfectly:
'himmelblau' by die Aerzte
'Abschiedslied' by Farin Urlaub
'am Strand' by Farin Urlaub
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Filmfestival!
The internet doesn't work too reliable here in Auckland, I scribbled this earlier:
"
I give you the NZIFF.
Today I watched 'Die Wand'. Didn't know it was a german movie untill the subtitles appeared. How Hollywood-poisoned my mind was. It was hungry for the Why, which Hollywood always explains, but rarely good.
The brochure promised 'science-fiction-elements', but I didn't got them. What I got was really good fiction. Any fiction takes a setting, no matter how ridiculus or how well explained (if at all), and lets the plot unfold naturally. If the plot itself needs ridiculus plot points, it is bad fiction. If everyone and everything acts and reacts in reasonable ways, even when confronted with a weird setting, we get good fiction. A device that lets multiple people dream the same dream? Ridiculus. But take that one thing for granted and someone gets the idea to use it as a device to steal information. Great movie. Someone can instantly teleport himself from one location to another? Ridiculus, too. Then this guy does things with his gift we can't understand; we whould act differently, it is never seen why he does what he does. Add more characters behaving unreasonably, even when we take the teleporting for granted, and we get a horrible movie. 'Jumper' is worse than 'the room', because it had so much more potential to be a great one.
But I digress. 'Die Wand' takes a setting (an invisible wall), and lets us watch as the story unfolds. No bogus technobabble to explain the wall, no aliens or government experiments. The expectation of these made my brain turn the first third of the movie into a horror thriller because I was expecting jumpers (sudden cut to something that lets us jump in the seat). Once I accepted the fact that the movie was not about the WHY does it happen, but the WHAT DOES happen, I really enjoyed it.
Look guys, I'm a movie critic!
"
In other news, I quit my job:
http://www.viruscomix.com/page491.html
Instead of writing extra stuff, I now just incorporate my opinions about the movies I watch into my diary. Before that, here is my idea for the next Batman (I don't care that the comic books didn't do that. Then again, there are almost as many comic books as bible passages, so I propably could find something to support this):
John Blake, nosy hot-head detective who is not allowed to believe in coincidence, becomes the next, more brain-reliant Batman. The best villain against a brainy Batman whould be one that likes puzzles and mysteries. Hm. Maybe someone who is already introduced, mentally scared by citizens trying to kill him because otherwise a hospital whould be destroyed. Also, he might feel guilty for a hospital being destroyed. Someone who's name conveniently happens to be 'Mister Reese'.
Anyway, here's what happens at the festival:
\paragraph{23.07.12}
After work, I go to the biggest book store in Auckland, and don't you know it, they have 'atlas shrugged' right there. However, the festival comes first. I watch the movie 'the wall'. Only in the theater I realise that the original title is 'Die Wand', german with english subtitles. The white subtitles ruin some of the gloomier scenes, but that's not too bad. It is about a woman trapped in an unexplained, invisible, inert forcefield. We see how she lives in a wooden cabin with a dog, trying to survive without knowing what is going on. My brain, poisoned by Hollywood, was expecting some kind of threat or explanation, none of which appeared. Refreshing. The acting was a bit wooden and the cuts abrupt sometimes, but that is just like 'glass plates with little bubbles and imperfections, proof that they were made by the indiginous hard-working people of... whereever'. You can see the lack of a Hollywood budget able to buy the best equipment and the longest experience. The imperfections are not proof, but byproduct. The Skycity Complex where the cinema is located is impressive. An indoor balcony lets me watch over the casino. Out of curiosity I ask the guy at the entrance if my clothing meets the needed level of 'neat and tidy' required to enter. Which it is, minus the hat. 'For social or religious reasons', right. Not because of the cameras. We laugh. I leave through the vast yet labyrinth-esque entrance hall.
\paragraph{24.07.12}
After work I went to the Civic Cinema, to find out that I missed both screenings of 'cabin in the woods'. A pity. I watched 'Faust', a russian interpretation of Goethe's original. Again, to my surprise, the movie is german with english subtitles. It was interesting to watch, but a person who has read the original and knows about all the characters and sideplots can propably get even more from it. Is anyone even reading this? Anyway, the Civic Cinema is even more impressive than the Skycity Cinema. It is built the style of an indian temple without a roof, the ceiling and openings are covered by round, set back, concrete surfaces, illuminated in blue. There are various smaller rooms due to the massive >1000 seat hall in the center of the building.
\paragraph{25.07.12}
[Resigning from my job here]. Afterwards, the Auckland air tastes like adventure again. I am free to do whatever I want at any time once more. But first, I head to the Travelworks office and claim my letter by the tax department of the government. [boring tax stuff]. They also want me to record my voice for voice recognition, for the safety of my data. As I decline, I am told that it whould not matter because it will become mandatory in not too short notice. I walk another way back to the hostel and miss it. I take a detour of more than one hour, around suburbs and more suburbs. At the hostel, I view through the rest of the film festival program and go to watch 'moonrise kingdom'. Beautiful. A downscaled escape from the oppressing system, a (somewhat downscaled) love story, a beautiful film. And even on an island with a single cop, he has to be played by Bruce Willis. It is a supporting role that does not steal attention from our heroes, our outcasts. I don't even feel like watching 'crazy horse' after this. Turns out, I can't, because it's sold out. Back to the hostel, I talk about movies, politics and more movies with some german guys. They haven't seen 'the dark knight rises' yet, but they can't find the enthusiasm to go right there and then. We agree on tomorrow. Lazy bunch.
\paragraph{26.07.12}
Today I watched 'beasts of the southern wild', which was not too bad. Not entirely my genre, but an intense portrait of a girl living in the bajou swamp. I also watched 'platige image', a short film compilation by the polish animation studio of the same name. Amongst them a trailer for 'witcher 2', an impressive 3d camera pan through a historical painting (a war scene with horses, various weapons, etc), an animated history of Poland for a museum and the usual amusing and thought-provoking short films.
\paragraph{27.07.12}
Today I watched 'the shining'. Kubrick at his best. No cheap jump-in-your-seat horror, but genuine psyching of the mind. And it works best in a cinema filled with genuine viewers. In the evening, I picked up some of my books and realised that I might as well start 'Atlas Shrugged' despite the heavy movie input.
\paragraph{28.07.12}
The film festival continues. Today I went to the box office at the Civic too late and missed the last screenings of 'toons for tots' and 'the boy who was a king'. Instead, I booked 'in the fog' and 'the sound of my voice'. There were four hours to kill beforehand, so I went to Britomart. I discovered a Samsung Olympic Area, with screens repeating the opening show. I watched the larger part of it, though I took a walk during the walk of the athlets. The three 'international olympic athlets' i.e. the people without a nationality, without a flag to bow and honor and carry in front of them, seemed the most extatic. Propably because no government told them to behave and not to make their country look bad. I didn't see the large red sculpture, which I presume is the torch, ignited. I only saw the one assembled from the copper bowls in the middle of the arena. Nice try to embed a social media love story into the show. After the show, I went to the cinema and marveled at the bizarrchitecture of the complex. The movie 'in the fog' itself was a tranquilizer. The prospect of minute-long shots made me think 'the one in 'avengers' was impressive, it might work here, too'. But in the two-minute shots of this one happened less than in the average three-second shot of 'avengers'. I literally struggled to keep my eyes open. But my failed scheduling reawakened me because I had to get from the Queen Street cinema to the Rialto in Newmarket in 30 minutes. I hurried to Britomart and took the Inner Link bus line. I overshot one bus stop and hurried back. When I found it, I was about five minutes late, but I only missed most of the preceeding animated short film, 'abiogenesis'. Still, a pity, the ending of that looked impressive. The movie itself, 'the sound of my voice', was a great one. I may not have labelled it 'science-fiction' entirely, but I understand why they did. The Hollywood idea is that every movie develops towards a 'why', and if it's a good and plausible 'why', it's a good movie; if it's a ridiculous and constructed 'why', it's a bad movie. Here, you have to understand that there is no necessity for why. You simply enjoy the 'what' and make up your own mind.
"
I give you the NZIFF.
Today I watched 'Die Wand'. Didn't know it was a german movie untill the subtitles appeared. How Hollywood-poisoned my mind was. It was hungry for the Why, which Hollywood always explains, but rarely good.
The brochure promised 'science-fiction-elements', but I didn't got them. What I got was really good fiction. Any fiction takes a setting, no matter how ridiculus or how well explained (if at all), and lets the plot unfold naturally. If the plot itself needs ridiculus plot points, it is bad fiction. If everyone and everything acts and reacts in reasonable ways, even when confronted with a weird setting, we get good fiction. A device that lets multiple people dream the same dream? Ridiculus. But take that one thing for granted and someone gets the idea to use it as a device to steal information. Great movie. Someone can instantly teleport himself from one location to another? Ridiculus, too. Then this guy does things with his gift we can't understand; we whould act differently, it is never seen why he does what he does. Add more characters behaving unreasonably, even when we take the teleporting for granted, and we get a horrible movie. 'Jumper' is worse than 'the room', because it had so much more potential to be a great one.
But I digress. 'Die Wand' takes a setting (an invisible wall), and lets us watch as the story unfolds. No bogus technobabble to explain the wall, no aliens or government experiments. The expectation of these made my brain turn the first third of the movie into a horror thriller because I was expecting jumpers (sudden cut to something that lets us jump in the seat). Once I accepted the fact that the movie was not about the WHY does it happen, but the WHAT DOES happen, I really enjoyed it.
Look guys, I'm a movie critic!
"
In other news, I quit my job:
http://www.viruscomix.com/page491.html
Instead of writing extra stuff, I now just incorporate my opinions about the movies I watch into my diary. Before that, here is my idea for the next Batman (I don't care that the comic books didn't do that. Then again, there are almost as many comic books as bible passages, so I propably could find something to support this):
John Blake, nosy hot-head detective who is not allowed to believe in coincidence, becomes the next, more brain-reliant Batman. The best villain against a brainy Batman whould be one that likes puzzles and mysteries. Hm. Maybe someone who is already introduced, mentally scared by citizens trying to kill him because otherwise a hospital whould be destroyed. Also, he might feel guilty for a hospital being destroyed. Someone who's name conveniently happens to be 'Mister Reese'.
Anyway, here's what happens at the festival:
\paragraph{23.07.12}
After work, I go to the biggest book store in Auckland, and don't you know it, they have 'atlas shrugged' right there. However, the festival comes first. I watch the movie 'the wall'. Only in the theater I realise that the original title is 'Die Wand', german with english subtitles. The white subtitles ruin some of the gloomier scenes, but that's not too bad. It is about a woman trapped in an unexplained, invisible, inert forcefield. We see how she lives in a wooden cabin with a dog, trying to survive without knowing what is going on. My brain, poisoned by Hollywood, was expecting some kind of threat or explanation, none of which appeared. Refreshing. The acting was a bit wooden and the cuts abrupt sometimes, but that is just like 'glass plates with little bubbles and imperfections, proof that they were made by the indiginous hard-working people of... whereever'. You can see the lack of a Hollywood budget able to buy the best equipment and the longest experience. The imperfections are not proof, but byproduct. The Skycity Complex where the cinema is located is impressive. An indoor balcony lets me watch over the casino. Out of curiosity I ask the guy at the entrance if my clothing meets the needed level of 'neat and tidy' required to enter. Which it is, minus the hat. 'For social or religious reasons', right. Not because of the cameras. We laugh. I leave through the vast yet labyrinth-esque entrance hall.
\paragraph{24.07.12}
After work I went to the Civic Cinema, to find out that I missed both screenings of 'cabin in the woods'. A pity. I watched 'Faust', a russian interpretation of Goethe's original. Again, to my surprise, the movie is german with english subtitles. It was interesting to watch, but a person who has read the original and knows about all the characters and sideplots can propably get even more from it. Is anyone even reading this? Anyway, the Civic Cinema is even more impressive than the Skycity Cinema. It is built the style of an indian temple without a roof, the ceiling and openings are covered by round, set back, concrete surfaces, illuminated in blue. There are various smaller rooms due to the massive >1000 seat hall in the center of the building.
\paragraph{25.07.12}
[Resigning from my job here]. Afterwards, the Auckland air tastes like adventure again. I am free to do whatever I want at any time once more. But first, I head to the Travelworks office and claim my letter by the tax department of the government. [boring tax stuff]. They also want me to record my voice for voice recognition, for the safety of my data. As I decline, I am told that it whould not matter because it will become mandatory in not too short notice. I walk another way back to the hostel and miss it. I take a detour of more than one hour, around suburbs and more suburbs. At the hostel, I view through the rest of the film festival program and go to watch 'moonrise kingdom'. Beautiful. A downscaled escape from the oppressing system, a (somewhat downscaled) love story, a beautiful film. And even on an island with a single cop, he has to be played by Bruce Willis. It is a supporting role that does not steal attention from our heroes, our outcasts. I don't even feel like watching 'crazy horse' after this. Turns out, I can't, because it's sold out. Back to the hostel, I talk about movies, politics and more movies with some german guys. They haven't seen 'the dark knight rises' yet, but they can't find the enthusiasm to go right there and then. We agree on tomorrow. Lazy bunch.
\paragraph{26.07.12}
Today I watched 'beasts of the southern wild', which was not too bad. Not entirely my genre, but an intense portrait of a girl living in the bajou swamp. I also watched 'platige image', a short film compilation by the polish animation studio of the same name. Amongst them a trailer for 'witcher 2', an impressive 3d camera pan through a historical painting (a war scene with horses, various weapons, etc), an animated history of Poland for a museum and the usual amusing and thought-provoking short films.
\paragraph{27.07.12}
Today I watched 'the shining'. Kubrick at his best. No cheap jump-in-your-seat horror, but genuine psyching of the mind. And it works best in a cinema filled with genuine viewers. In the evening, I picked up some of my books and realised that I might as well start 'Atlas Shrugged' despite the heavy movie input.
\paragraph{28.07.12}
The film festival continues. Today I went to the box office at the Civic too late and missed the last screenings of 'toons for tots' and 'the boy who was a king'. Instead, I booked 'in the fog' and 'the sound of my voice'. There were four hours to kill beforehand, so I went to Britomart. I discovered a Samsung Olympic Area, with screens repeating the opening show. I watched the larger part of it, though I took a walk during the walk of the athlets. The three 'international olympic athlets' i.e. the people without a nationality, without a flag to bow and honor and carry in front of them, seemed the most extatic. Propably because no government told them to behave and not to make their country look bad. I didn't see the large red sculpture, which I presume is the torch, ignited. I only saw the one assembled from the copper bowls in the middle of the arena. Nice try to embed a social media love story into the show. After the show, I went to the cinema and marveled at the bizarrchitecture of the complex. The movie 'in the fog' itself was a tranquilizer. The prospect of minute-long shots made me think 'the one in 'avengers' was impressive, it might work here, too'. But in the two-minute shots of this one happened less than in the average three-second shot of 'avengers'. I literally struggled to keep my eyes open. But my failed scheduling reawakened me because I had to get from the Queen Street cinema to the Rialto in Newmarket in 30 minutes. I hurried to Britomart and took the Inner Link bus line. I overshot one bus stop and hurried back. When I found it, I was about five minutes late, but I only missed most of the preceeding animated short film, 'abiogenesis'. Still, a pity, the ending of that looked impressive. The movie itself, 'the sound of my voice', was a great one. I may not have labelled it 'science-fiction' entirely, but I understand why they did. The Hollywood idea is that every movie develops towards a 'why', and if it's a good and plausible 'why', it's a good movie; if it's a ridiculous and constructed 'why', it's a bad movie. Here, you have to understand that there is no necessity for why. You simply enjoy the 'what' and make up your own mind.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
"Batman?" "Yes my Lord." "RIIISSSEEE!"
Note: Spoilers are written backwards, you can turn your head away
without accidentally reading them. Also, they are fake. Yes, /b/ got me
again. Spoilers in an unrelated thread made me angry but reminded me not
to surf the web for fun between a movie release and me watching it. As
it just turned out, the boards are still the same: The info was complete
bogus. find the bogus backwards at the end.
That movie is awesome! And I saw it both in the cinema on the big screen and in english! You guys have to take your pick between the two. Which is a pity, really. As with Avengers and Brave (even with Pixar giving their masters a Disney princess as main character). Even the death of a great actor does not make his movie the best of the trilogy. Which cannot end as a trilogy, not with that ending.
Hype, hype, statement how great the movie is, ..wait, you have to wait for another week?? How about you all come to live here, so I never have to go back!
Bogus spoilers from the boards:
1. emutsoc namtab sdnif ttivel
2. dedeen tub enog si namtab esuaceb ti sraew
3. sevil enyaw dna mih sllik enab
That movie is awesome! And I saw it both in the cinema on the big screen and in english! You guys have to take your pick between the two. Which is a pity, really. As with Avengers and Brave (even with Pixar giving their masters a Disney princess as main character). Even the death of a great actor does not make his movie the best of the trilogy. Which cannot end as a trilogy, not with that ending.
Hype, hype, statement how great the movie is, ..wait, you have to wait for another week?? How about you all come to live here, so I never have to go back!
Bogus spoilers from the boards:
1. emutsoc namtab sdnif ttivel
2. dedeen tub enog si namtab esuaceb ti sraew
3. sevil enyaw dna mih sllik enab
Monday, July 16, 2012
tdpe!
That is the explanation! And I was worried Bielefeld finally ur[..classified..]led, with the result tha[..classified..]o be made into a movie by Michael Bay.
Good news, by the way. This week I'll have regular Internet, so after work I can phone home. I'll be home by roundabout 8pm. That is 10 am for you (You have daylight savings in summer, we in winter). If you are too busy at that time, I can get up early on saturday.
Greetings from Hamilton,
Patrick
ps. Since I got the job in Auckland, I was travelling on a weekly basis: Auckland, Wellington, Hastings, Fieldings, Kerikeri, Hamilton.
Good news, by the way. This week I'll have regular Internet, so after work I can phone home. I'll be home by roundabout 8pm. That is 10 am for you (You have daylight savings in summer, we in winter). If you are too busy at that time, I can get up early on saturday.
Greetings from Hamilton,
Patrick
ps. Since I got the job in Auckland, I was travelling on a weekly basis: Auckland, Wellington, Hastings, Fieldings, Kerikeri, Hamilton.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
quaking
what a rumble. especially when you are as close as fieldings. it was shaking for about a minute, never had one that heavvy. but all is ok with me and my coworkers.
free wifi and lunch break right now. cheers.
mobi
free wifi and lunch break right now. cheers.
mobi
Saturday, June 30, 2012
'sup
Update from low-on-internet Hastings. The job has up's and down's, one up being the travel aspect, another the regular team shifts that prevent you from ending up with people you don't get along with.
I had a short burst of 'I really miss you guys!' some days ago, but with the days getting longer again, I hope I get into the spring mood.
Jonas mailed me that some of you found out that the two of us write mails and thus you told him to greet me from you in his mails (Imagine this said by cpt. Jack Sparrow). Now Jonas is telling me that the next step is to tell you to mail me yourself. Which is not the right thing to tell you. If you want to greet me, leave me a comment right here. In the blog. If you need extra motivation: for every comment on this entry, I'll throw in one crazy dream I had over the last weeks.
Patrick
--
Empfehlen Sie GMX DSL Ihren Freunden und Bekannten und wir
belohnen Sie mit bis zu 50,- Euro! https://freundschaftswerbung.gmx.de
I had a short burst of 'I really miss you guys!' some days ago, but with the days getting longer again, I hope I get into the spring mood.
Jonas mailed me that some of you found out that the two of us write mails and thus you told him to greet me from you in his mails (Imagine this said by cpt. Jack Sparrow). Now Jonas is telling me that the next step is to tell you to mail me yourself. Which is not the right thing to tell you. If you want to greet me, leave me a comment right here. In the blog. If you need extra motivation: for every comment on this entry, I'll throw in one crazy dream I had over the last weeks.
Patrick
--
Empfehlen Sie GMX DSL Ihren Freunden und Bekannten und wir
belohnen Sie mit bis zu 50,- Euro! https://freundschaftswerbung.gmx.de
Saturday, June 23, 2012
New Things Happening!
\paragraph{23.05.12}
The bus started at 1030. Before that, I called Bunty to ask him why he still did not show up. I instruct him to give the paper to Felix, so he can give it to me when he travelles up north. The bus brings me to Auckland. There, I stay for two nights to rest and enjoy urbanity.
\paragraph{24.05.12}
After the first night in the 'Freeman's lodge', I take a walk in Auckland. I go to the harbour, the workntravel office to check my mails, the metro center, a cinema and entertainment complex designed by a madman (everything is bent in some way, gangways from one floor to another, hallways without straight angles, general bizarrchitecture). I watch 'the avengers' yet again, this time in 3d. Near the university, I discover a stand selling 'gamja' or 'ugly hotdogs'. Picture a german frankfurter on a stick, covered in korean pancake dough and rolled in potatoe pieces that turn into french fries when the whole thing is deep fried for five minutes. Ugly, but delicious. I inquire about buses that can bring me up north. I also snatch some interesting books from the exchange shelf that need appreciation, Schaetzing and others.
\paragraph{25.05.12}
I travel to Kaitaia, a town up north. The busdriver makes long and elaborate speeches about the bus company, the route, the passenger numbers, etc. He obviously should have chosen a job where he can put that hobby of his to better use. In Kaitaia, I look at the hostels, buy supplies in the pak'n'save and take the local bus to Ahipara, an even smaller town located near shipwreck bay. I check in and book for two nights.
\paragraph{26.05.12}
The first day, it is raining, so I stay in the hostel and play monopoly with the other guests. Again, mostly germans. When the rain stops, I take a walk up the mountain slopes and to the shipwreck bay.
\paragraph{27.05.12}
Today I went to the giant sand dunes with a sled from the hostel. They were indeed huge. It took me at least fifteen minutes to climb them. Up there, I left my sled behind and wandered over the dune plateau which looked like a desert bordering a forest with the ocean at the horizon. I walked around for hours, dune after dune, watching the sculptures formed by sand with an amout of iron and wind containing salt water. The whole scenery reminded me of the video game myst, a beautiful and varying but ultimately empty landscape. When I decided that there is no point in walking on, for behind the next dune will be another, I turned and walked back. When I reached the slope down to the beach, it took me a while to find the sled because it turned out that I took a very different route back. I slided down the slope, climbed back up and slided again. But the slight but steady rain wetted the sand, slowing me down, which is why I headed back to the hostel. There, I listened to Molyneux 'against the gods' (I especially liked the part explaining why agnostics are cowards), played cards and listened to travellers stories about Laos, Thailand, Bali, India and the whole asia region.
\paragraph{28.05.12}
Today I went to the dunes again. The sand had the exact right concistency to slide. But I didn't slide too often because it was quite exhausting to climb the dune.
\paragraph{29.05.12}
Today I had a lazy day in the hammock listening to Molyneux, though I had to go in a few times because of slight rain which made it uncomfortably cold outside.
\paragraph{30.05.12}
I sat on the front porch in the sun and discussed politics with a german guy who has a shot on all sorts of conspiracy theories. He is of the opinion that all decisions in worldwide politics and economics are made by five to thirteen families who have been in charge for centuries. They started the global warming myth, organized 9-11 and decide about presidents and popes. His ideal political system is derived from the origin of the word 'democracy', something like 'rulership of the village' or something. His model has a nation-wide set of basic rules (murder etc.), but government, police and justice are organised by every village for themselves. That way, the rulers know the people they rule over personally. When I asked for specifics about the election and police systems, it quickly grew out of his hand. But we agreed that his system can easily be implemented as part of an anarchocapitalistic society. He made me rethink the systems of crime and punishment.
\paragraph{31.05.12}
Today discussed with two british girls about religious models, god and the concept of a 'good-intended cosmos'. One of them believed in some 'higher energies' (try to talk to a scientific person about energy). When she agreed with several scientific principles I proposed, she got cornered and got to interesting compromises. Since conscience without matter is not possible, god has a body, it is just not flesh (?). This matter is in another dimension, since it cannot be outside the universe if it affects us. If the matter is restructured (by, crude example, a bullet), the conscience ceases to be, ergo: god can die. When she said that the 'creation' had to be created by someone, I asked who created god, since he consists of matter and is thus a creation. She then mentioned the late hour and what a long day she had. Her co-traveller claimed not to believe in a god, but took a counterposition when her friend ran out of arguments.
\paragraph{01.05.12}
Today I met an older couple that came over to see the hostel that once belonged to them. Peter Roberts, an impressive person with long hair, sunglasses, shirt and leather jacket, has his own post-production studio, his wife owns a high-class designer clothing store. All of their three sons have their own businesses, one of them some coffeehouses. They tell me that he is in constant need of baristas, so I ask them where to apply. Peter gives me his business card and tells me that he can forward my application to him. He tells me about his own year abroad, from which he ultimately returned after three years of travelling the world. He mentions that two times he had a gun pointing at him. I think about all the people that tell me about how beautiful asia is and how I could add some months of travelling the coast of Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand and India. Later that day I prepare my curriculum vitae for the barista job.
\paragraph{02.05.12}
In the morning I sent the application to Beau, the coffehouse manager. The day is sunny, so I and the conspiracy guy take sandboards and drive to the beach in his car. From there, we start walking, but a french surfer couple take us with them in their van. It is a stony way for a van, but we make it to the next bay, where they go surfing. We walk to the dunes and climb them. The dunes are free of charge, but the sliding comes at the price of the climb. After one slide, conspiracy guy (what was his name??) already heads back to the hostel, he couldn't climb up again and wants to go surfing instead. I climb up and enjoy the view over the beach, ninety mile beach and the quad and dirt bike drivers climbing the dunes and rushing down again. I meet a family climbing without sleds. They run down the hills, which is propably a better idea considering the concistency of the sand today. I slide down and head for the hostel. At shipwreck bay, I meet Joseph, a backpacker from the hostel, who takes me back in his car. At the hostel, we meet four travelers from Auckland on a long weekend. They want to head home tomorrow, so I ask them if they have a place for me, since I could get a job there quite soon. They don't, but Joseph, the tzech guy, says he is heading that way tomorrow, too.
\paragraph{03.05.12}
Today, I decided to travel in the general direction of Auckland, in case Beau hires me as a barista. Joseph, a traveller from the tzech republic, was on his way to Omapere and took me along. We were searching for more huge sand dunes at Rangi Point he was told about by other travellers. We found them, but could not reach them. They were at the end of a large area recently deforested. The roads were loose gravel, nothing for his car. We saw the dunes in the distance, but decided to turn around. The view was unique, a large deforested area with flat vegetation framed by thick forest and dunes. We took the ferry over a bay, arrived in Omapere and checked in the Globetrekker Hostel. I walked to the wooden quay and watched surfers arrive from the bay entrance, where the waves were high enough. They used large, two-seated jetskis to go there and back and now, they loaded them onto hangers. They are the motorbikes of the sea (Yamaha, no less). I walked along the beach, which was sand and, at the lower points at low tide, rocks. I saw three huge boulders. When I returned, we played a quick round of poker, but I was tired and went to bed. Joseph made one of his interviews with Lauren, one of the four travellers from Ahipara. He interviews people he meets to write a book about New Zealand.
\paragraph{04.06.12}
We drove off to Auckand, stopping for the kauri forest with the 'lord of the forest', the biggest kauri tree in New Zealand, and other large and thus famous kauri trees. An impressive view. during the journey, Joseph remarks that I am not too much of a talker. I confirm, then hesitate and tell him that normally, I am more of a talker. In Auckland, we meet with one of the four travellers from Ahipara and check in a lodge with an unrememberable maori name. In the afternoon, Joseph gets us going for the city to find a shisha bar. He got directions from a guy in the hostel. At the shisha bar they wanted me to try the pipe, and as they got insistent, I explained my decision as well as my general approach to descisions like this (I don't act upon principles that whould rob me/ free me from choice, but embrace the possibility to choose and the responsibility of the consequences, in this case the short term 'taste' that I tasted before and found it not that good as well as the long term effects.) Joseph was impressed and said he now understood that I was not someone who does not talk so much but rather someone who only talkes when it is important to me ('a heavy subject' as he called it), explaining situations and opinions thoroughly. I agreed and mentioned that that was the reason I hesitated in the car about the topic of me being someone who does not talk much vs someone who talks a lot. When the topic is important to me, I usually talk more than the average person.
\paragraph{05.06.21}
I take a long walk along the city of Auckand. Stopped at the work'n'holiday office to read my mails, since the hostel has no free wifi.
\paragraph{06.06.21}
The hostel bookshelf has some strange books, 'bad monkeys' by Matt Ruff, which is surreal and gives me the feeling that I have already read it years ago. Maybe I did, who knows. A girl at the hostel tells me about her work with [charity], where you have to talk people on the street. Sounds like the job for me.
\paragraph{07.06.21}
Today I visited the office of [charity]. Bottom line is that I got the job, but until someone explained to me the exact reach of the confidentiality paragraph in the contract, I'll leave it with that.
The bus started at 1030. Before that, I called Bunty to ask him why he still did not show up. I instruct him to give the paper to Felix, so he can give it to me when he travelles up north. The bus brings me to Auckland. There, I stay for two nights to rest and enjoy urbanity.
\paragraph{24.05.12}
After the first night in the 'Freeman's lodge', I take a walk in Auckland. I go to the harbour, the workntravel office to check my mails, the metro center, a cinema and entertainment complex designed by a madman (everything is bent in some way, gangways from one floor to another, hallways without straight angles, general bizarrchitecture). I watch 'the avengers' yet again, this time in 3d. Near the university, I discover a stand selling 'gamja' or 'ugly hotdogs'. Picture a german frankfurter on a stick, covered in korean pancake dough and rolled in potatoe pieces that turn into french fries when the whole thing is deep fried for five minutes. Ugly, but delicious. I inquire about buses that can bring me up north. I also snatch some interesting books from the exchange shelf that need appreciation, Schaetzing and others.
\paragraph{25.05.12}
I travel to Kaitaia, a town up north. The busdriver makes long and elaborate speeches about the bus company, the route, the passenger numbers, etc. He obviously should have chosen a job where he can put that hobby of his to better use. In Kaitaia, I look at the hostels, buy supplies in the pak'n'save and take the local bus to Ahipara, an even smaller town located near shipwreck bay. I check in and book for two nights.
\paragraph{26.05.12}
The first day, it is raining, so I stay in the hostel and play monopoly with the other guests. Again, mostly germans. When the rain stops, I take a walk up the mountain slopes and to the shipwreck bay.
\paragraph{27.05.12}
Today I went to the giant sand dunes with a sled from the hostel. They were indeed huge. It took me at least fifteen minutes to climb them. Up there, I left my sled behind and wandered over the dune plateau which looked like a desert bordering a forest with the ocean at the horizon. I walked around for hours, dune after dune, watching the sculptures formed by sand with an amout of iron and wind containing salt water. The whole scenery reminded me of the video game myst, a beautiful and varying but ultimately empty landscape. When I decided that there is no point in walking on, for behind the next dune will be another, I turned and walked back. When I reached the slope down to the beach, it took me a while to find the sled because it turned out that I took a very different route back. I slided down the slope, climbed back up and slided again. But the slight but steady rain wetted the sand, slowing me down, which is why I headed back to the hostel. There, I listened to Molyneux 'against the gods' (I especially liked the part explaining why agnostics are cowards), played cards and listened to travellers stories about Laos, Thailand, Bali, India and the whole asia region.
\paragraph{28.05.12}
Today I went to the dunes again. The sand had the exact right concistency to slide. But I didn't slide too often because it was quite exhausting to climb the dune.
\paragraph{29.05.12}
Today I had a lazy day in the hammock listening to Molyneux, though I had to go in a few times because of slight rain which made it uncomfortably cold outside.
\paragraph{30.05.12}
I sat on the front porch in the sun and discussed politics with a german guy who has a shot on all sorts of conspiracy theories. He is of the opinion that all decisions in worldwide politics and economics are made by five to thirteen families who have been in charge for centuries. They started the global warming myth, organized 9-11 and decide about presidents and popes. His ideal political system is derived from the origin of the word 'democracy', something like 'rulership of the village' or something. His model has a nation-wide set of basic rules (murder etc.), but government, police and justice are organised by every village for themselves. That way, the rulers know the people they rule over personally. When I asked for specifics about the election and police systems, it quickly grew out of his hand. But we agreed that his system can easily be implemented as part of an anarchocapitalistic society. He made me rethink the systems of crime and punishment.
\paragraph{31.05.12}
Today discussed with two british girls about religious models, god and the concept of a 'good-intended cosmos'. One of them believed in some 'higher energies' (try to talk to a scientific person about energy). When she agreed with several scientific principles I proposed, she got cornered and got to interesting compromises. Since conscience without matter is not possible, god has a body, it is just not flesh (?). This matter is in another dimension, since it cannot be outside the universe if it affects us. If the matter is restructured (by, crude example, a bullet), the conscience ceases to be, ergo: god can die. When she said that the 'creation' had to be created by someone, I asked who created god, since he consists of matter and is thus a creation. She then mentioned the late hour and what a long day she had. Her co-traveller claimed not to believe in a god, but took a counterposition when her friend ran out of arguments.
\paragraph{01.05.12}
Today I met an older couple that came over to see the hostel that once belonged to them. Peter Roberts, an impressive person with long hair, sunglasses, shirt and leather jacket, has his own post-production studio, his wife owns a high-class designer clothing store. All of their three sons have their own businesses, one of them some coffeehouses. They tell me that he is in constant need of baristas, so I ask them where to apply. Peter gives me his business card and tells me that he can forward my application to him. He tells me about his own year abroad, from which he ultimately returned after three years of travelling the world. He mentions that two times he had a gun pointing at him. I think about all the people that tell me about how beautiful asia is and how I could add some months of travelling the coast of Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand and India. Later that day I prepare my curriculum vitae for the barista job.
\paragraph{02.05.12}
In the morning I sent the application to Beau, the coffehouse manager. The day is sunny, so I and the conspiracy guy take sandboards and drive to the beach in his car. From there, we start walking, but a french surfer couple take us with them in their van. It is a stony way for a van, but we make it to the next bay, where they go surfing. We walk to the dunes and climb them. The dunes are free of charge, but the sliding comes at the price of the climb. After one slide, conspiracy guy (what was his name??) already heads back to the hostel, he couldn't climb up again and wants to go surfing instead. I climb up and enjoy the view over the beach, ninety mile beach and the quad and dirt bike drivers climbing the dunes and rushing down again. I meet a family climbing without sleds. They run down the hills, which is propably a better idea considering the concistency of the sand today. I slide down and head for the hostel. At shipwreck bay, I meet Joseph, a backpacker from the hostel, who takes me back in his car. At the hostel, we meet four travelers from Auckland on a long weekend. They want to head home tomorrow, so I ask them if they have a place for me, since I could get a job there quite soon. They don't, but Joseph, the tzech guy, says he is heading that way tomorrow, too.
\paragraph{03.05.12}
Today, I decided to travel in the general direction of Auckland, in case Beau hires me as a barista. Joseph, a traveller from the tzech republic, was on his way to Omapere and took me along. We were searching for more huge sand dunes at Rangi Point he was told about by other travellers. We found them, but could not reach them. They were at the end of a large area recently deforested. The roads were loose gravel, nothing for his car. We saw the dunes in the distance, but decided to turn around. The view was unique, a large deforested area with flat vegetation framed by thick forest and dunes. We took the ferry over a bay, arrived in Omapere and checked in the Globetrekker Hostel. I walked to the wooden quay and watched surfers arrive from the bay entrance, where the waves were high enough. They used large, two-seated jetskis to go there and back and now, they loaded them onto hangers. They are the motorbikes of the sea (Yamaha, no less). I walked along the beach, which was sand and, at the lower points at low tide, rocks. I saw three huge boulders. When I returned, we played a quick round of poker, but I was tired and went to bed. Joseph made one of his interviews with Lauren, one of the four travellers from Ahipara. He interviews people he meets to write a book about New Zealand.
\paragraph{04.06.12}
We drove off to Auckand, stopping for the kauri forest with the 'lord of the forest', the biggest kauri tree in New Zealand, and other large and thus famous kauri trees. An impressive view. during the journey, Joseph remarks that I am not too much of a talker. I confirm, then hesitate and tell him that normally, I am more of a talker. In Auckland, we meet with one of the four travellers from Ahipara and check in a lodge with an unrememberable maori name. In the afternoon, Joseph gets us going for the city to find a shisha bar. He got directions from a guy in the hostel. At the shisha bar they wanted me to try the pipe, and as they got insistent, I explained my decision as well as my general approach to descisions like this (I don't act upon principles that whould rob me/ free me from choice, but embrace the possibility to choose and the responsibility of the consequences, in this case the short term 'taste' that I tasted before and found it not that good as well as the long term effects.) Joseph was impressed and said he now understood that I was not someone who does not talk so much but rather someone who only talkes when it is important to me ('a heavy subject' as he called it), explaining situations and opinions thoroughly. I agreed and mentioned that that was the reason I hesitated in the car about the topic of me being someone who does not talk much vs someone who talks a lot. When the topic is important to me, I usually talk more than the average person.
\paragraph{05.06.21}
I take a long walk along the city of Auckand. Stopped at the work'n'holiday office to read my mails, since the hostel has no free wifi.
\paragraph{06.06.21}
The hostel bookshelf has some strange books, 'bad monkeys' by Matt Ruff, which is surreal and gives me the feeling that I have already read it years ago. Maybe I did, who knows. A girl at the hostel tells me about her work with [charity], where you have to talk people on the street. Sounds like the job for me.
\paragraph{07.06.21}
Today I visited the office of [charity]. Bottom line is that I got the job, but until someone explained to me the exact reach of the confidentiality paragraph in the contract, I'll leave it with that.
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