I found this line from a Salvatore Quasimodo poem reprinted in the NYTimes Magazine and it really caught me off guard. I've got to remember to look up the rest. Pretty arresting, isn't it?

Ognuno sta solo sul cuor della terra

trafitto da un raggio di sole:

ed é subito sera.

(Everyone stands alone on the heart of the earth

transfixed by a sun ray:

and suddenly it is evening.)

The Future of Indies?

"The Future is here. It's just not widely distributed yet."

--William Gibson

I've always admired John Sloss for his uniquely successful business helping indies find financing (see Little Miss Sunshine for details...), and for the most part I believe he's always been on the cutting edge of taste, trends and technology. However, after reading this, I can't help but feel he and the NYTimes are living in a fantasy world.

While "delivery is changing rapidly", I wonder if the ADD-afflicted majority of computer users will have the attention span to purchase and watch unidirectional content over 8min long. So far, the internet content revolution has been mostly hype; few have seen any payoff, including the nominally successful web series like Eisner's Prom Queen or Edward Zwick's quarterlife. Even with interest in television waning, there's been no proof that they've defected in favor of high quality internet content. For the most part, people use the internet to communicate and build community, not to isolate themselves, which is essentially the effect of watching a television show or film. The most successful online ventures--facebook, secondlife, myspace, and nerve to name a few--all revolve around interaction and bidirectional avenues of information. The user is both the consumer and the distributor, evaluating and sharing content with the community through his or her own platform. At first glance, some may think the success of viral videos like "I'm Fucking Matt Damon" or the Evolution of Dance seem to point to a growing desire for content, but keep in mind that these videos are short, free to watch, and usually lose their appeal after a few weeks, thus possessing little potential for serialization, licensing or most importantly, advertising revenue.

In my opinion, the Lost creators have come closest to successfully merging content with community. The Lost Experience was an ARG(alternate reality game) designed by the creators to engage fans and expand the story line. The experience included new content, viral marketing websites such as oceanic-air.com, and puzzles whose solutions would reveal new information about the Lost world. These interactive applications built an alternate Lost community in which its members could share clues, videos, theories and more, which in turn created new lucrative advertising opportunities. Unlike with unidirectional content, the Lost world offers advertisers multiple opportunities for product tie-ins and high viewership through user word-of-mouth. A case study by WOMMA found that after Sprite teamed up with Lost on an ARG that cost less than $150,000 to produce, Sprite web traffic increased 400% and average visit time increased 275%. I'd like to hope that Sloss is right and advertising dollars will exist for high quality indie content on-line, but in reality, no one is going to watch a 90min mumblecore film on a distributor's pay-to-watch website when they can watch and share Will Ferrell's Pearl the Landlady with their friends on their own pages for free.

Sex And The City Among Other Things

So a weekend that I thought was going to be full of action, adventures and romance turned out to be one full of rain, frustration, and reflection on the 1 train at 2am. Its Sunday night and I’ve just gotten back from the Sex and the City movie with my mom—the coda to her 60th birthday celebration. I had a lot of misgivings and apprehensions going into the film. It’s been a victim of bad reviews by both angry feminists and misogynists (probably the first and last time those two groups will ever hold common ground!) so I was wary of watching anything that would “dumb” down the original series. Fortunately, my doubts disappeared not long after the opening credit sequence. The movie, like the show, was pure eye candy and escapist entertainment, perfect for the start of summer. However, what I wasn’t expecting, and was pleasantly surprised to get, was a film that reinforced the special friendship of the four characters without any of the sensationalized cattiness you usually see between female characters on most series today. +/-

What made the original SATC a success was the strong bond between Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha. Their fights didn’t revolve around boyfriend stealing, backstabbing, or gossip. When they got mad at each other, it was for real reasons, like being too honest or harsh, or not being there when their friendship was most needed. And while they got mad, they never got even. They talked their problems out like adults, and always made amends in the end because for these women, friendship was always the bottom line, and nothing could compromise that—especially no man. And as I watched the fabulous foursome toast their cosmos for the final time in the heart of the greatest city in the world, I found myself crying out of the simple, sublime joy of watching their allegiance, and out of my own joy for the great allegiances of my own. And whether I find any truly great loves—and I wish on every fallen eyelash and shooting star that I do—I know like Carrie my friends will be there for it all.

Now that I’ve gotten this embarrassingly gooey ode to friendship off my chest, I’ll move on, and back. Saturday started off on the right foot. I met my friend who I haven’t seen since Bike and Build and since hes been back from the Peace Corps, who is now living 3 blocks from me and getting his masters in Social Work at Columbia. After that, I met my mom downtown to go see Avenue Q for her birthday. She was in a great mood, which, after all she’s been through, made me cry. Yes, the first of three times this weekend. And its not even “that time of the month”. After the show, I had plans with the guy that I’m “seeing” to do a bunch of fun summer-in-the-city things, but the flash thunderstorm ended all that. It also added a weird atmosphere that I couldn’t seem to shake all night. Usually, I’m very comfortable with him, and I have tons to say that I only end up saying half of it before we part. However last night, our chemistry was all off. Kind of strained and almost uncomfortable. I don’t know if it was because it was the first time he took me over to where he lives, which, if you know the situation was HUGE, or if it was because I was exhausted, or something else that was going on with him. I just know I left feeling down and nervous that he had lost interest. The cab ride was a long teary-eyed reflection to 120th street, ending with me hoping that he was missing me and HATING myself for hoping it with such ardor. I really like him and like how I feel when I'm around him, but whenever I'm not, I get worried that I might have done something to jeopardize our whatever-it-is. I was so frustrated that I—a strong, confident woman—had devolved into such an anxious wreck over a silly boy. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt strongly for someone, but I’m so worried about giving myself up or getting hurt in the process. I want it to work terribly, and most of the time I feel hopeful that it will and will be wonderful, but those times when I start to second-guess his feelings I crumple into a jumble of melancholy and self-loathing, albeit only privately. We’re in a weird in-between state of trying to figure things out, and I hope that once we leave limbo, for better or worse, a lot of these emotions will leave as well, or atleast I’ll be in a better place to share them with him. Then I’ll have recaptured my strong confident femininity and move on with him (hopefully!) both together and as the Me that I’ve always loved. If not, well, there’s always a trip to Mexico with my friends!

The Raconteurs...

...rocked out at Terminal 5 friday night. Jack White, unsurprisingly, was sicknasty on the guitar. It's funny, his stage presence w/ the Raconteurs was totally different from the White Stripes. Much more hard rock. Here, he was just "one of the boys" and seemed more at ease on stage. The band played pretty much everything in their ouevre which made my partner in crime Shiff a very happy man. I think my favorite song is probably Rich Kid Blues--like all their songs the lyrics are beautiful in their simplicity and honesty. It's hard to believe that these guys are so young. Check it out below.

Best discovery of the night: Turns out Terminal 5 is the old club Exit! Oh, memories of high school "teen nights", fake 18 year old IDs, the Hip Hop room, and pretending to be lezzie to escape creepy older men. Maybe not the best concert venue but worth the trek to the hudson if for no other reason than to relive my (in retrospect not-so-cool) underage clubbing forays.

"Love's just a story, a story without words Words are almost never seen and never even heard"

12 Rich Kid Blues - Raconteurs