EDIT: Donald Trump is still a loser

I was wrong.

It turns out that America wanted  a sexist, racist, crude, mean, inept, KKK-supported, fake-wealthy, sexual harassing, sexual assaulting, tiny-handed, thin-skinned, sad, lonely bully as the president of the United States.

But that doesn’t make him any less of a loser.

Donald Trump is a Loser is a a reminder of how we let a clown into office, and hopefully a guidebook on how to prevent it from happening again. It is the phrase “Donald Trump is a loser” typed out 10x times in an effort to SEO that shit IRL. It’s word art, collage, news clips and short fiction, chronicling what will probably be the rise to the darkest time in American history.

I want to keep it in print because the freedom of ideas is still important. Freedom of press is still essential. Just because I was wrong, and he won the election, doesn’t make this book wrong. Donald Trump is a loser and will forever be.


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CLICK HERE TO ORDER DONALD TRUMP IS A LOSER

 

 

Making No Promises “Politics” music video

Early last year, my band No Promises recorded a couple songs with the brilliant Rafter Roberts at Singing Serpent Studios in San Diego. We have a song called “Politics” that, I think, showcases our energy and singer Kipling Mitchell’s knack for songwriting (plus I get to do a drum solo).

As the 2016 presidential election began heating up last year, I noted an increasing (and exhausting) vitriol in my social media feeds. It’s been so bad that I’ve pretty much lost interest in who becomes the next president. I decided that whenever I felt compelled to post anything denigrating/accusatory on social media, I’d focus that energy on something constructive—making a video for “Politics” seemed as good of outlet as any.

I’m not an animator by any means, but I’ve dabbled in choppy Python/South Park-style animation before. Here’s a video that I made a couple years ago called “If Cats Directed Tuna Commercials” that showcases the style I wanted for “Politics.”

“Cats” is a little over a minute long, and essentially maybe 7 or 8 scenes of animation, which, at the time, took me about two weeks to complete. The challenge with “Politics” was to be able to sustain that style for over three minutes, but with enough scenes/cuts to match the frantic energy of the song.

The result ended up taking close to six months. There are over 200 moving pieces in the video. It’s by far the most involved video I’ve ever created.

THE PROCESS 

Like I said, I’m no animator, but I know my way around the Adobe Cloud. The style here was created with Photoshop and Premier—a mixture of stop motion and video motion.

Let’s take a look at when Obama kicks a King Baby Trump’s head off. Here are a few of the images I had to create in Photoshop:

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When cut down to single frames and placed together in Premier, Baby King Trump like he’s kind of, like, gesticulating madly.

It’s the Video Motion capabilities of Premier that give everything the smooth motion. It’s really a beautiful function and once you play around with it, you realize how much you can do.

Here’s what my Premier timeline looks like at that decapitation:

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Video motion (circled in green) allows you to control position of an object on the screen and the scale at which it appears. And, and! it allows you to keyframe these movements (circled in red). The above example shows the motion of Trump’s head as it moves from the point of impact up into the upper right hand corner. The keyframed scale gives it the impression that it’s flying toward us.

THE CHALLENGE

Every stop motion video is going to take time. Manipulating single frames is time-consuming, and there were many points when I would align the clips and then realize I was missing an essential movement. Sigh. Back to Photoshop.

All the images are from Google Image Search. I did not create anything for this video—everything’s found on the Internet. This was a little bit of a problem when I had to find unconventional things like, “Business man in fetal position, cradling skeleton” or “Obama riding drone.”

This project also made me realize the whiteness of Google Image Search. I can’t tell you how something as innocuous like “businessman shaking hands” turns up only white results.

Anyway, it was a lot of fun to make and I hope you enjoy it.

 

“Mad Inches” in Lockjaw Magazine and other stories set in snow

Stories set in snow are the my favorite: The Thing, A Simple Plan, Fargo, etc.. I’m certain this has something to do with growing up in Park City, Utah, and knowing the simultaneous comfort and claustrophobia that a snowstorm brings. I don’t know why it took me forever to write one of my own.

Lockjaw Magazine published “Mad Inches” in their third issue yesterday. It’s a long-read (10K words) but it’s definitely one of my favorite things I’ve written. For fans of bleakness.

I wrote it at the beginning of 2014, in an effort to create the most unlikeable characters ever. The end result was: rich, white snowboarder bros who succumb to Lovecraftian madness during a snowstorm. It’s very much based on going to high school in Park City and the type of people I’d party with.

Speaking of snow stories:

·  I recently read and was blown away by Kathy Fish’s “Snow”  in Fictionaut Magazine.

· Ottessa Moshfegh’s Eileen features a cold, barren landscape that benefits the narrative. Highly recommended.

· Of course there’s Stephen King’s The Shining, but I would also recommend Blaze (which he wrote under his Richard Bachman pseudonym), a pretty tight thriller.

Horror Business: Craig Oliver

Horror Business is a novel I that wrote. Horror movies play a huge role in the narrative.

“Horror Business” is a sporadic column where I ask influential/invaluable writers and people of interest the following question: What scene from a movie has scared/troubled/shaken you the most?

Craig Oliver has been my go-to person when I need to talk horror. He’s one of the smartest dudes I know when it comes to the technical/historical/contextual significance of movies, but his mutual love of all things dark—and that recognition of what it says about us—provides a base for our close friendship.

For evidence of this darkness, look no farther than his record label, Volar Records. Volar, in my opinion, puts out the best, weirdest music in San Diego, but there is a biting edge to any Volar band. They feel like they’re creeping up on you. They feel dangerous. Weirdo music for weirdo people, and there isn’t enough of that anymore.

(Also, a couple years ago, I went with Craig to SXSW where he was running a bunch of Volar showcases, and we spent a significant amount of the 22-hour drive talking about highway ghosts and aliens.)


What scene from a movie has scared/troubled/shaken you the most?

I can tell you about nightmares as a kid. About being scared of the covers of horror movies at the video store. About indulging myself in those same movies as a young teen. About sleeplessness and a general fear of the dark that lasted well into my twenties. The need for music or for the TV to be on, some sign of life in the quiet of night. I can tell you about all the things I’ve read over the years about the function of horror movies as a means to confront certain fears and come out victorious. About the cycle of watching these movies for twenty-plus years on end, intentionally unsettling any sort of peace I’ve had without them, of the battle throughout that same period of time with insomnia, only to indulge myself further.

Most of all, I can tell you about a small handful of those movies looking back at me.

It’s 2005. you’re at Landmark’s Ken Cinema, our town’s only single-screen theater. You’re here with your girlfriend at the time watching Ju-On: The Grudge, the original Japanese version, the third part in the series that was adapted pretty poorly in the US, and with Ringu (adapted rather well in the US as The Ring), helping to popularize the trope of the black-eyed ghost-child.

In Ju-On, a family has moved into a house and has become terrorized by two vengeful spirits. A character crawls backwards as one of these black-eyed ghost-boys approaches. The slow dread of certain death goes against the normal American counterpart of the maniacal running and screaming from some hulking danger. Here, there is no use trying to escape. Your fate is inevitable. As the ghost child approaches, the screen goes black, leaving you in the theater in complete darkness. Slowly a faint light fills the screen, and your hands are over your face. You are shivering, and your then-girlfriend is next to you chiding you for all of this. Slowly, ever slowly, a pair of eyes thirty feet high, looking directly at you. In the past you worried about waking up to these eyes, you’ve worried about them staring at you from within the darkness of the closet.

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A year or so later, you and your best friend spend Friday nights watching horror flicks, mostly 70s exploitation and cheeseball 80s gorefests. Eventually you run out, and you start watching more serious fare, sometimes foreign. Tonight it’s the French classic Eyes Without a Face, a weirdly poetic-yet-absurd story of a plastic surgeon father who kills women to steal their faces in an attempt to replace the disfigured face of his daughter, Christine, who stays at home, a prisoner behind a blank white mask. Partway through the film, she’s a little ways off in a room, without her mask, out of focus. The camera slowly moves in, the focus sharpening. So much dreadful weight is placed on the horror of her real face, staring into the camera, staring at us, and before it is fully revealed, you both shut off the movie and quickly head out for a party. A week later, you’re both back on the couch, cueing the movie back up to just before that moment.

“She’s been staring at me all week,” you both agree.

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You are seventeen and finally watching The Exorcist for the first time. You’ve tried doing so at night, which proved to be too much, so now it’s day, sunlight pouring through the windows. The first twenty minutes or so, the movie is well done, claustrophobic. You are not religious, so all the ‘God and the Devil’ doesn’t really hit you, but demons in the dark still nag at you nonetheless. And now the main character, the priest, is dreaming, his mother far off, coming out of a subway, unable to hear his cries. And then a flash, a face:

The rest of the film keeps going with its tale of demonic possession and faith, but it’s the split-second image of that visage, staring back, not just from the dark but another dimension, that stays in your bones. The face never goes away.

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That notion of breaking the fourth wall—first addressed in eighteenth-century stage plays and carrying over to movies and film—the metafictional acknowledgement of the audience—is generally used in both comedic works to jokingly clue the audience in to some elevated understanding of the circumstances within, to make them feel as if they’re in on it; in dramatic works, it’s used for empathetic effect: feel what I feel, we are together in this. In the occasion that it’s used in horror films, the effect is something quite different:

YOU ARE NOT SAFE.

And the first time you are aware of this is the silliest in retrospect. It’s 1984. MTV is relatively new, and your parents are young and watch it quite a bit. You are in a small, unsettling house on the outskirts of Yuma, AZ. You are four years old and easily scared. There is a big premiere of a music video, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” and your parents are excited. The video plays, Michael Jackson and his girlfriend stopped in the woods. Michael turns, violently, into a werewolf and chases her through the woods. You are frightened and try leaving the room, but it’s difficult not looking back, MJ as werewolf looking directly into the screen, and then, safety. It’s a movie, it’s not real. MJ and his girlfriend leave the theater, he dances around, and then they are surrounded by zombies; the nightmare isn’t over. MJ turns into one of them, and for a few moments, they all look straight through the television and directly at you.

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You try to get further out of the room but you don’t want to be alone, and when you look back, the zombies are all dancing, this has to fun and games, yes? And then it’s over, and MJ is back to normal, everything is safe, but he looks back to you one last time, his eyes yellow, a grin on his face. “There are always monsters underneath,” you’ll always think.

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“Animal Control” in Paper Darts

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My story “Animal Control,” recently won Paper Darts Short Story Contest. I’m very proud of it, and the artwork (GIF!) that accompanies it—by John Wilinksi—is great.

It’s an honor to win because I have so much love for Paper Darts. I can’t think of a better-looking lit site, and the design of relaunch is something that everyone should aspire to. Mad props for a literary site that takes UX and responsive design into account.

It’s a huge ego boost to win the accolades of Lindsay Hunter, who judged the contest. I’ve been a huge fan of Hunter’s work for a long time (probably an understatement), so to know that she picked mine out of however many blind submissions… I felt very legitimized.

Go read her books.

Thanks to everyone who read(s) “Animal Control.” I’ve been getting a lot of great feedback. I like when people say that it makes them feel weird, “but in a good way.”