Manx For The Memories!

On the way back to the flat, I ran into these to Manx Folk who wanted me to take their picture.

My first picture of where Dave and I lived.


A shot of the Loch Hotel steps.


My light table...desk and coffee table.


Our first "home-cooked meal" by Dave.

They should be off the isle in a few hours. I can't even remember what they look like now.

I wanted to send this from Atlanta, but after 30 minutes of hoofing around trying to find a wifi signal ("High Speed Internet Access– Easy As 1, 2, 3!", signs all over said, with no further elaboration), I found that logging-on cost $7.95 for 24 hours! That's movie admission! And who the hell is at the airport for 24 hours? Ronaldsway's "Hotpoint" is free! Fucking Americans. The rest of the trip has been quite nice. I'm in LA now and heading north soon.
I flew right over the part of eastern Tennessee that Kennys come from (my Dad was called "Buddy" and I've an great-uncle Junebug. Inexpicably, my grandma's named Lolita). We past just a few miles east of Bristol and I could make out the Tri-City Area, I fancy. Blountville wasn't on the map. Pronounced "bluntvil".
What tipped me off was the strange sight of the Blue Ridge Mountains [pictured below]. They look like overturned feed troughs, but bigger and made of tectonic formations.



Everybody here is really smart and soft-spoken.

The Tenebrae church service last night was really moving. In the program they handed out at the door, it asked the audience to be silent throughout and to leave in silence. It was a lovely spring night here in Douglas and the moon was bright and round.
As we each read our part of the Last Supper story, a candle would go out. Those who had rallied around the man, had abandoned him in his greatest hour of need, left him to be battered, to be spat on, to be mocked, to be friendless in death. Forsaken.

The church grew darker and darker. You couldn't help thinking of people at school who you'd turned your back on, when vicious cliques had made their days a misery. You couldn't help thinking of people at work who'd been layed off and were no longer spoken of, never called anymore. Sometimes you were asked to empty their desks, shred their business cards. Your mind wandered to dark places, recalling times when you could have shown compassion to some stranger, but neglected to. Car accidents you drove away from, instead of running towards.

Finally, all the candles went out. A black cloth was draped on the large cross above the organ in the center of the sanctuary, faintly illuminated.

The moonlight poured through the windows in silvery slants. It meant something good. It gave you hope. Was the moon full? I couldn't turn to anyone to ask. I wasn't allowed to speak. We were together but we were each alone. Finally we rose. We left in silence. You could hear the scuffing sounds of our soles as we left.

Outside, it was quiet but the moon was louder still. You could hear the sudden growl of cars starting — such loud animals in the woods tonight — and then they would roll away slowly, putting the silence back in place, like heavy black furniture.

In my car, I wondered, must I leave this silent country so soon? What street must I take back to my noisy noisy life, or could I just turn down a side road, slow down and spend the night with the moon?

Just like hot dogs being munched up one by one by Floyd, he's a sweaty man from Baltimore. That's pretty much how it is now here in Douglas and sometimes I like to hide in the trashcan in the alley like Oscar. And i wished my mom didn't have so many coat hangers because the really can be very hurtful sometimes.

How very very amazingly disturbing is this Manx?!

Now everyone can have long luscious gray hair like Chris...

Yet another and my last really perfect Manx sunrise. Well at least I'm not the only one overdue for a haircut.




And yes folks, that's all I got from the good ol' Isle of Mann.

How amazingly gorgeous is this lovely manx?







I'm sorry. I'll stop.

How amazingly gorgeous is this lovely man?

OK, to the point. Last year the Isle of Man Film industry welcomed the largest and most exciting live action production to our little Island - The Libertine, starring Johnny Depp, Samantha Morton and John Malkovich.

The film tell the story of John Wilmot (Depp), the Earl of Rochester, a 17th century poet who famously drank and debauched his way into an early grave, on to earn critical acclaim for his life's work.

The local media quicly picked up on this and, low-and-behold, the newspapers ran with the story that up to 200 extras would be required during filming................ some for rather riske scenes!!!!

I can't believe that was almost two years ago ------ and tonight we are going to the Manx Premier!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will keep you posted with pictures and any gossip.

Rumour has it that Johnny Depp can't be there is person, which I think is just rude, but hey ho!

Johnny Depp, riske scenes, drunken debauchery.................. naturally myself and my good friend gorgeous Ashley were there at the casting from the doors opened.

Foul, Barkley, foul!

take only photos - leave only your lungs.

Hey there,

Just caught a little bit of a documentary on the last flight of the Concord. I never realized what a fantastic machine it was. It was the flagship of British Airways since 1969 and was recently grounded. It seems mainly because of noise. The plane was fast skirting the edge of space at Mach 2! "Faster than a rifle bullet". Now it sits all by itself out by the runway at Heathrow. I remember passing it everytime I landed in London.

Anyway for some reason it got me thinking about the whole experience on the island again. At work, we were working fast and hard and on a regular basis. We were asked to work in a very tight schedule and instead of giving up and turning in average work given the time frame, we chose to move ahead and continue to maintain and improve the quality of our work. I can only speak for myself when I get frustrated over a script and just want to chuck it for one reason or another. But then I read it over and over until I get inspired to make it better. Sometimes the inspiration comes from my director, Joe before and during a thumbnail pitch. We get eachother thinking and "one-upping" one another ...all to make the show better. Those of you in animation are very familiar with this process. And to work on a cartoon out in the middle of the Irish Sea was... incredible! And all the politics and drama of just being human and being part of a small group of "fish out of water" in the UK was, as Bao would say,"Brilliant!" It truly was.

I guess all I wanted to say is I feel lucky... very lucky to have had this experience on this island... with these people. This has been a very "magical" time for me. And like the Concord that time has come to an end.

At the end of the documentary Maya Angelou (one of the last passengers) says that the Concord "shows us how far the human being has gone... how far the human mind takes us. And withdrawing it tells us in effect that we are retrogressing and we... we should never retrogress. WE MUST GO FORWARD."

But he might be out of room.

And so I take my last spin around an island which has proved to be a cycling paradise (except in DOUGLAS where they will run you over just for something to do. I will always carry the magnificent memories and images of my many rides around the country-side. Yes even you - dastardly rock wall which embedded your aggregate under my mangled fingernail. So long and thanks for all the kippers. Hellooooooo sunshine!!


I could never get the sad image of the fateful Solway Harvester out of my memory, as I've ridden by it so many times.


hey what's a blog post without a manly pose of yours truly?


Sometimes arches are made for meditating.

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Nothing wrong with the view here. Thats the road ahead along the cliff.


Old Man needs break.


Maybe California isn't the only place with happy cows. These made me estatic.


It is well known that the Irish Sea gives no quarter.


Port soderick, in the Glen.


Above the Glen looking down to the coast. As with many of the local seaside villages or Glens, there are vestiges from the tourism days of old. dilapidated seaside buildings and amusement centers, ice cream stands...whatever. All rotting by the sea. C'est la vie.


A better shot of the glen (without ugly yank)

This has been the greatest week of blogging ever! Laughing like school girls, we kept one upping each other. I knew something was missing from this office (besides all our friends). To our hapless recipients... who loves ya, ya big dummies?!
So now I return to normalcy with... MORE FIREWORK PHOTOS! Goodnight DOUGLAS...crabs in a basket.

A boy that loves loving FISHES. We should admire that!

I ponder, yet still... I don't get it.

Do not-- DO NOT EVER use these numbers!

Basic Braiding

Generalities:
The `trick' to braiding is to keep the tension on the strands evenly balanced. This only comes with practice. In any braid, but especially in 3-strand braids, there is also the question of overhand or underhand braiding. The only difference between the two is: do your new or active strands cross over the braid above or below the line of the braid? There is not a functional difference, and the only time that you might care is on hair braids that won't be covered by anything else; an overhand braid will look a little more elegant than an underhand braid, because of the transition from smooth head hair to braid.
If you have difficulty braiding hair, use a piece of yarn or rope until you master the basic patterns.

The fish tapeworm, scientifically named Diphyllobothrium latum, represents one of the giant tapeworm species. Humans become infected when they eat raw or undercooked fish that contain tape worm larvae (sparganum).

After a person has eaten of infected fish, the larva begin to grow in the intestine. The adult worm, which is segmented, may attain a length of 30 feet. Eggs are formed in each segment (proglottid) of the worm and are passed in the stool. Occasionally, a string of proglottids may be passed in the stool.

Manx dog sniffs around for his balls, which have apparently rolled down the hill.

Over a handful of dispirited guest-workers, mostly American, took to the street again on what marked the tenth month of impotent chaos. Scores of words are estimated to have been mangled this month alone, while no one has taken credit for the spate of colorful explosions and bonfires that have scorged the island this weekend. Seagulls were warned to stay at home, while other inhabitants seem to have done so voluntarily. Police were dispatched en force to their CCTV monitor. Rioters' various demands, from sushi and fresh coffee, to free surgical augmentation have been described as "unrealistic".