VOTE OR DIE

Please stand up and vote on Tuesday. This promises to be the most important election not only within our lifetime, but in generations. It is highly likely that our next president will appoint at least one Supreme Court Justice, potentially shaping the policy of our government for years to come.

Right now, disenfranchised people all over the globe are struggling for the right to self-determination, a right many of us take for granted. Our forebears fought and sometimes died to secure for us the right to choose our leaders. Don't squander this precious gift.

Here in California, polls open at 7 A.M. and close at 8 P.M. If you don't know where your polling is, click here:

www.MyPollingPlace.com

Also, know your rights:

1. As long as you are in line by the time the polls close, you have the right to
cast your vote.

2. You also have the right to cast your absentee ballot in any precinct in the
county in which you are registered.

3. If you are not listed on the registration rolls, you still have the right to
cast a provisional ballot.

Adventures in Absinthe

L'absinthe by Edgar Degas 1876

I first tried this magical elixir while in Prague in the fall of 2000. My mate Mack and I descended into an underground pub and sat down at a long wooden table; he ordered a brew (the beer in The Czech Republic is second to none) and I asked for an absinthe. Although we both ended up buying multiple bottles at the end of the week and bringing them back to Paris with us, I suspect on this first occasion he wanted me to play the role of the guinea pig. The burly Czech waitress asked me if I'd ever tried absinthe before and when I replied with a negative she gave me a crafty, knowing look and shuffled back to the bar, stopping at a table full of German tourists along the way to report what the stupid American had just ordered. I imagine she must have said something like, "Get ready for a good show." A very cruel race, these Eastern Europeans.

Now, I must make it clear that though I'd never actually sampled it, I'd read about the ritual of drinking absinthe in books by Hemingway and Sartre and I was expecting to be served with the same ceremony. Their characters would typically receive a tumbler with some absinthe in the bottom, a sugar cube, a slotted absinthe spoon, and a pitcher of water. One would balance the spoon across the rim of the glass, place the sugar cube upon it, and then pour the water through both the sugar and the spoon. As the sugar water makes contact with the clear emerald liquid, the oils within it are emulsified and the bitter wormwood-derived liquor swirls into a milky, opalescent concoction. One would then sip the resulting mixture like a cocktail and proceed with a discussion on Existentialism or the end of The Age of Revolutions or something else equally cultured. This, I later learned, is "the French method" for imbibing absinthe: it is very refined and, with all the accoutrements, has the artful appeal of a Japanese tea ceremony...it also has very little in common with "the Czech method," to which I was about to be introduced.

Our Teutonic barmaid/tormentor (let's call her "Conan") brought me a whiskey glass filled with about 3 or 4 shots of the green fairy. She looked at me and inquired in her broken English whether or not I knew "how to dreenk." I glanced from her to the bartender, to the other waitress, to the tableful of Germans, and to my friend Mack -- all of whom smiled back at me expectantly -- but nowhere did I spy the intricately carved spoon and ewer of water that I expected. Confused, I shook my head. She grunted, broke into a broad grin, and put a cube of sugar onto an (gasp!) ordinary, rather sad-looking spoon: this she dunked into the absinthe to soak the sugar. She then produced a lighter from her pocket, gave me the spoon, and lit it on fire.

The green sugar burned an alternately blue and invisible flame like a bunsen burner. The cube bubbled and crackled, and caramelized and melted, all while encased in the azure flame at the end of my spoon. The room fell silent as the flame shimmered higher and brighter. It was beautiful, and all else around me seemed to dim. For a thrilling moment my idyllic notions of turn-of-the-century Parisian cafes returned. Then the flame guttered and died; the waitress grabbed my wrist and forcefully guided the spoonful of smoldering melted sugar into the glass, stirring it vigorously. "Now SHOUP!" she bellowed, while gesturing with her gigantic ham-fist towards her face, as if she were taking a shot. I think I might have giggled and muttered some lame excuse about wanting to sip it (like those oh-so-refined French!) to savor the taste. I don't really remember what I said. All I remember is that she weighed more, and had more testosterone, than Mack and me combined.

"NO! HAHAHA! SHOOOOOOOUUP!" She pushed the glass into my face and threw my head back. I gulped: I felt like I'd just swallowed a glassful of magma. I felt rivulets of molten rock percolating down into my esophagus and spreading into my gut. I had to look down to make sure my torso wasn't engulfed in licorice flames. Then the real pain kicked in. I couldn't catch my breath – I could only exhale ethanol fumes; my sinus cavities burned like I'd just snorted a line of anise-flavored wasabi; tears shot from my eyes like twin squirtguns. Have you ever seen that old Looney Tunes cartoon in which Bugs Bunny drinks the mad scientist's potion and turns green, then red, then plaid, then polka-dotted? That's what happened to my skin. The barmaid gave me good-natured slap on the back; it felt like a punch from a linebacker. The waitresses, the bartender, and the Germans all roared with laughter, and I knew then why the word schadenfreude is Germanic in origin. After wiping my tears off his face, Mack (good ol' American Mack) scooped me up and ushered me outside to the cheers and toasts of our new German and Czech friends. Eastern Europeans...such a cruel race.

"A source of light comedy to me..."

----------------- Bulletin Message -----------------
From: GEORGE W. BUSH
Date: Jul 14, 2004 02:05 PM

DO YOU SEE ANY PLANE WRECKAGE ANYWHERE? I DON'T

[There was a photo here of the Pentagon crash site taken September 14, 2001. It was a cropped image showing only the point of entry.  I later found the uncropped image on the Defense Department's website: there is a very large pile of scrap metal to the left of the collapsed section...conveniently left out of the original image.  -- Xopher]

PS: --- The PENTAGON was NOT hit by an airplane! Look at the Photos! It was hit by a missle, There is a clean hole straight through the Pentagon !

( Looks like a perfect HOLE, not the type of damage caused by a HUGE 757 commercial airplane with wings !!! )

ALSO, there is NO PLANE DEBRIS at the Pentagon site !!! NO BROKEN WINGS, NO LARGE PLANE WRECKAGE to be seen anywhere.

Cover up, Lies and deception in the White House.

The Top Ranking Republicans are secretly involved in the Occult, they are decendants from ANGLO-SAXON Scottish Occult Blood Rites.

( Hitler was put into power by the THULE SOCIETY of EUROPE. ( Illuminati )

The Skull & Bones secret society in YALE, is a BRANCH of the THULE SOCIETY in the USA. )

GW BUSH is a member of the Skull & Bones Society. ( THULE BRANCH -YALE )

Cheney is a BEAST-MAN, a DEMON from hell.

Thanks for your political webpage, tell the people!

HITLER and the connection with THULE SOCIETY ( Illuminati Branch )

http://www.sumeria.net/politics/nazioccult.html

GW BUSH is a MEMBER of THE SKULL and BONES, USA Branch of the
Bavarian Illuminati.

VOTE OUT BUSH in 2004 !!! Keep the faith !

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Xopher
Date: Jul 15, 2004 10:17 AM

This post is completely false. Though much of it was destroyed in the initial
impact, there was plane debris at the site. Just because you cannot see it in one photo doesn't mean it wasn't there. Also, don't forget that this plane crashed during rush hour near one of the most congested freeways in the United States. There were hundreds, if not thousands of witnesses who saw the airliner going down. For further information on this ridiculous conspiracy theory, check out The Urban Legends Reference Pages

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: GEORGE W. BUSH
Date: Jul 15, 2004 01:24 PM

believe what you want

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Xopher
Date: Jul 15, 2004 04:15 PM

Truth is not about believing what you want. It's about educating yourself:
viewing the issue from all angles, gaining as wide a perspective as possible, and weighing all the evidence regardless of whether it reinforces your political agenda or not. The Republicans believed what they wanted: this is why our country is embroiled in Iraq. They also believe what they want about the condition of the environment, the results of the Florida election, and countless other scandals the administration has taken part in. I encourage you to stay above their level. When a blatant lie such as this is spread by those on the Left, it only causes Republicans and Independents alike to dismiss all of our legitimate complaints about the government as lies and baseless accusations. Both black boxes from Flight 77 were recovered in the wreckage of the Pentagon and the remains of all but one passenger from that flight were found at the crash site. Are you familiar with the scientific principle of Occam's Razor which states that, all things being equal, the simplest explanation is most often the correct one?

Here is a collection of eyewitness accounts from newspapers immediately following the tragedy, including that of an AP reporter, who saw Flight 77 fly into the Pentagon.

Were these thousands of people hypnotized by our government into seeing an airplane that "did not even exist" (according to Thierry Meyssan, the French author who initially propagated this conspiracy theory)? You will not find a more skeptical person than me, especially when it comes to what the U.S. government has been doing in the past four years. Robust doubt is a healthy attribute, but it works both ways. If we're going to change the world for the better, starting with replacing Dubya and his insane posse in November, we need to embrace the truth and not alienate ourselves on the fringes of logic where no one, especially those whose minds we want to change the most, will even bother to listen to what we have to say.

Xopher

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: GEORGE W. BUSH
Date: Jul 19, 2004 12:18 AM

you believe the newpapers and not your own eyes?

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Xopher
Date: Jul 19, 2004 11:43 AM

Your response is a non sequitur. What are you talking about? If by "believe my own eyes" you mean to ask whether I see any plane wreckage in that photograph you sent out, then my response is that I don't. That photo, however, was obviously taken after the clean-up and repair work had begun on the Pentagon in earnest. The recognizable parts of the airliner had already been moved off the lawn to make room for the construction vehicles. In fact, they were probably the first things removed from the scene in order to perform a thorough test for forensic evidence. If you looked at any other early photos of the Pentagon crash site besides that one, you can actually see plane debris. Did you even read my messages? Did you go to the URL I sent you with other pictures? How can you look at that one photograph and come to the determination that because there is no plane wreckage visible, no plane hit the Pentagon? If you want me to take you seriously you'll have to respond with more than one sentence, because I'm starting to believe that you're insane.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: GEORGE W. BUSH
Date: Jul 20, 2004 09:48 AM

THIS COUNTRY IS INSANE,
YOU DON'T KNOW WHO/WHAT TO BELIEVE,
THIS IS WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE COUNTRY,
OK SO MAYBE THAT INFO I WAS GIVEN ABOUT THE PENTAGON IS BUNK...SORRY,
BUT YOU MISSED THE POINT,
THE POINT IS THERE NO POINT,
911 IS A BUNCH OF LIES,
AND IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT I SAY,
THE US IS BEING TAKEN OVER BY CRIMINALS AND THEFTS, MURDERERS,
EVEN IF I WERE TO SAY THAT MICKEY MOUSE BOMBED THE PENTAGON IT WOUND BE CLOSER
TO THE TRUTH THAN WHAT WE ARE GIVEN BY THE NEWS,
I WILL EXAMINE MY INFO BEFORE I POST STUFF,
THERE SHOULDN'T BE ANY QUESTIONS ABOUT 911 OR THE PENTAGON BUT THERE IS...THAT'S
THE PROBLEM

[I didn't reply to this.  Once he started ranting about Mickey Mouse
my eyes glazed over and all his capital letters just ran together into
a grey smear.  I actually stared at my screen and wondered if
sanitariums have internet access...that would be the most likely
explanation for this foolishness.  But how about Cheney being a BEAST-MAN, a DEMON from hell?  HA HA HA!  Even a broken clock is right twice a day!  Anyway, he just recently reopened our dialogue with another bulletin board post.  What follows
is our most recent exchange.  -- Xopher]

----------------- Bulletin Message -----------------
From: GEORGE W. BUSH
Date: Sep 5, 2004 09:52 AM
SUBJECT: if you didn´t believe the pentagon missile thing check this

look at this:

http://www.ebaumsworld.com/pentagon.html

[Due to complaints about the many inaccuracies in the video, ebaumsworld has stopped hosting it. You can still view it at thememoryhole.com. --Xopher]

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Xopher
Date: Sep 6, 2004 12:02 AM

You knew I'd be writing, didn't you?

Look, I first heard these conspiracy theories over two years ago when
I was living in London.  The English were eating this stuff up at the
time (this animation was hosted on a .uk web URL) because a French
citizen named Thierry Meyssan had just written a book about it that
was getting a lot of attention in the European press.  In response, I
did a lot of research on the topic.  These Pentagon conspiracy books
and videos, slick though some of them may be, conveniently examine
only the documents and photographs that reinforce their perspective.
They don't weigh all the evidence.  They don't even weigh most of it. 
The end result can be quite convincing for the uneducated. 

There are many aspects of this video that can be picked apart.  One is
the fact that AA 77 didn't "immediately [clear] 395" and then crash
into the Pentagon: it actually flew parallel to the highway and cleared Washington Blvd, which can be seen even in the map portion of the video.  Another point is that whatever crashed into the Pentagon hit it between 09:35 and 09:45 on 9/11, not "8.38am". Sloppiness or bad research? The video quotes someone named Patterson who claims the plane looked small, like it held 8-12 people. For every "Patterson", there are hundreds, if not thousands of people who claim the plane was big and that it looked like a 757. Why don't we hear from them in this video? I also don't like the fact that "W" likes to highlight random parts of the crash site in red and pretend that he or she is showing us the actual entry point. Come to think of it, I don't like the fact that he calls himself "W".  A real journalist with something real to report would give us a real name.  If this were true, why hide behind a pseudonym? Likewise one of the authorities he/she quotes is "Cassiopeia". Who the hell is that and do we have any reason to trust their opinions? Because in the end, that's all these "facts" are, subjective opinions.

Recognize this photo?

It's the original, uncropped version of the one you sent out in your previous post on this topic. Look on the left side. Do you see that large pile of scrap metal behind the men in white jumpsuits? I'm not saying that they are parts of the plane found by the clean-up crew inside the building, but they COULD be. I just find it interesting that this area of the photo was omitted from the one that you sent (with the subject line "DO YOU SEE ANY PLANE WRECKAGE ANYWHERE? I DON'T").

The bottom line is this: I don't know exactly what happened that day at the Pentagon.  I can, however, examine the issue from all angles, read all the relevant data, and decide what I THINK happened.  And then I move on.  If someone, anyone, can actually show me something that will convince me it was a missile or a fighter jet or a Global Hawk or a fucking TIE Fighter that crashed into the Pentagon that day, I await them with open arms and an open mind.  In the meantime, I'll find the story with the most evidence to be the most credible. 

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: GEORGE W. BUSH
Date: Sep 6, 2004 08:58 AM

i know what happened...

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Xopher
Date: Sep 6, 2004 12:05 PM

You do? Cool. Please show the rest of us some irrefutable evidence so
that we can know what happened, too.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: GEORGE W. BUSH
Date: Sep 6, 2004 11:13 PM

come on guy open your eyes, ears, and mind

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Xopher
Sep 7, 2004 11:01 PM

My eyes, ears, and mind are all wide open: you have shown me doctored photos and shoddily-researched web animations; you have had me listen to rumors, speculations, and outright lies; my mind is still waiting to be convinced. Believe me, I want to be. One of my father's friends was killed in the Pentagon disaster. And I despise the White House cabal so much that I would revel in anger and giddy feelings of political revenge if the Bush administration were found to be guilty of bombing the Pentagon, or of covering up a sinister plot, or even of failing to notify the public that a Global Hawk or fighter jet crashed into the Pentagon minutes before or after AA 77. I initially researched this topic BECAUSE I wanted to believe it. I was, however, disappointed. I do not believe in unscientific, unproven theories. I believe that it's POSSIBLE that there was a cover-up involved with 9/11, just as I believe that it's POSSIBLE that there is intelligent life outside our solar system. But I have not seen any credible evidence that would prove it. I will not take anything on faith. And no matter how much I want to believe something, if it disagrees with empirical evidence, it is wrong. That's all there is to it. So again, I challenge you: if you can find some real proof, something that appeals to logic and reason, not faith and eager speculation, then, please, edify me.

Xopher

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: GEORGE W. BUSH
Date: Sep 8, 2004 10:30 AM

this sounds like a personal problem,
the evidence is there,
your just choosing not to ear it,

----------------- Original Message -----------------
Sep 8, 2004 10:01 PM
From: Xopher

If logic, reason, and sanity are personal problems, then I am guilty as charged. This dialogue has devolved from a mature discussion into jejune repetition. Or perhaps I foolishly believed it was the former when it never actually was. I won't make that mistake with you again; nor will I waste any more time seriously considering your groundless beliefs, incoherent arguments, and sophistic accusations. From now on your messages and posts will be nothing but a source of light comedy to me...sort of like "ALF" or "Small Wonder": funny, but not "HA HA" funny. More of a groaning funny. I expect you know what I mean. No hard feelings, I hope?

Please keep the laughs coming,

Xopher

----------------- Original Message -----------------
Sep 9, 2004 01:58 PM
From: GEORGE W. BUSH

YOU IGNORANT FOOL...FUCK YOU...TENS OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE SHARE MY BELIEFS...YOU ARE ONE WHO EATS PROPAGANDA CEREAL FOR BREAKFAST...I HOPE YOUR HAPPY WITH THE LIFE YOU HAVE CHOSEN...IGNORANT AMERICAN FOOL...BYE...BITCH!!!

----------------- Original Message -----------------
Sep 9, 2004 09:37 PM
From: Xopher

Ha ha ha! That was pretty good, but I think you can do better. I really enjoyed the ranting mad scientist angle you're going for. The broken caps lock button adds to the kooky persona, but I fear the bad grammar is a bit trite, don't you? I mean, mad scientists are loony but they're usually depicted as blue blooded smartypants. It's just a thought.

"Propaganda cereal for breakfast," however: that's definitely a keeper! The "fuck you" is a nice touch, but I think the final "bitch" after the ellipsis seems a bit extraneous.

And adding that bitter comment to one of my photos! Sneaky! Heh heh! You get extra points for that one!

I am confused about one thing, though. Why did you delete me from your list of friends? It would be easier for us to continue our correspondence if I was still on your list; plus I wouldn't have to miss out on any of your entertaining bulletin board posts! If you could just add me again, that would be great.

Propaganda cereal -- HAH! That's classic! I better not think about that one while I'm drinking milk!

Xopher

Tofu Ninja!

www.tofufest.org

Three words:

Tofu.
Eating.
Contest.

Think you can mow your way through several pounds of tofu in a few minutes, joining the glorious ranks of champion eaters like Kobayashi, Shinto, and the upstart Sonya Thomas? I dare you to try. Most likely I'll be exorcising demons on Saturday, but on Sunday, the day of the big competition, I'm all about Tofu. I'm not saying that I'll compete, but because I live a mere 2 blocks from the festival grounds, if I overindulge it would be easy for someone to wheelbarrow me home. It's something to think about.

Hard and Rich in Little Tokyo

Like that moose in Parappa the Rapper, I don't have TIME. I know I'm not on AIM anymore, and when I finally did get on last night I got kicked off a few seconds later. I apologize to my friends in Iceland and Hong Kong for not typing my reply fast enough. My brand new internet connection is confounding me already. I'm back from San Francisco. I have moved into a loft in Lil' Tokyo. I love it. Mitsuwa is my local supermarket, where I can get Pocky "G". It's "Hard & Rich". Like me, baby. I also started a new freelance gig last week in Century City. Lots of hours so I'm never home to enjoy all the extra space I now have. Maybe when I get all my shit cleared out of the middle of the floor I'll host a little festival to celebrate. I've got enough alcohol sitting in my new bar to poison a small African village. Some of it belongs to Kristine, but she'll be the co-emcee so it's not like I'll be abusing her alcohol without her knowledge. Maybe I'll just let her be the main host...and I'll be the special guest star. Maybe I'll hold my little bacchanal on the same night as the MySpace Los Angeles party and we'll compete to see who draws the bigger crowd. Does the Hollywood Athletic Club have a pool and jacuzzi? I didn't think so.

Triumphant Return

I am back in the bosom of southern California. I dig San Francisco. In it, one actually feels like an urbanite. It reminded me of what a real city is made of, and while the public transportation doesn't hold a candle to NYC, London or Paris, it's got L.A. beat. Los Angeles is simply sprawl -- except for obvious exceptions (downtown, a few old neighborhoods) it is row after row of concrete apartment buildings, mini-marts, strip malls, burger joints, and gas stations. The latter being particularly appropriate since L.A. is the birthplace and citadel of the car culture. The architecture in San Francisco is a grand collection of styles from Queen Anne to Colonial Revival -- reflecting the early 20th century styles following the earthquake and great fire. L.A.'s got...well, strip malls and Post-War cheapness.

Anyhow, for what it's worth, I'm home.

Snapping Foe Toes

Schoolwork got you down?! I'm posting up a flock of pictures from the past few years into galleries on

my buzznet photoblog.

It's easier than MySpace, and just as free! Snap into it!

Apartment of Darkness

Corporate Housing is unfiltered evil. The company for which I am freelancing has set me up in an apartment complex about 5 miles up the 101 from the studio. The previous occupant of my pain cave, I am positive, owned a cat. I know this because there are areas in the apartment where the unmistakable odor of feline urine lurks still, like an invisible ghost, mocking me. I’ve tried attacking two different areas in the living room with Febreeze and a sponge, my T-shirt wrapped around my head like a shadour, to no avail: the pungent odor won’t go away. I scream at the cream stucco walls and shake my fists. My madness verges on that of Lady Macbeth. “Out, damned spot, OUT!” I shout as I scour, wide-eyed and trembling. My quote of Joyce’s final line from Araby for my headline proved telling – my eyes now truly burn with anguish and anger...and the ammonia stench of cat piss. And that is only the beginning of my irritation.

As I’m only in the bay area for two months, it makes sense to move into a furnished apartment. But why must these flats always be so insipid? Even their names, like Oakwood or The Highlands, ring of banality. I realize that no two people exist who have the same taste in furnishings, but why not just make the apartment plain and spartan? Why make it the wet dream of a bourgeois octogenarian? My milk-and-water abode is adorned with gaudy gold-framed mirrors and derivative Impressionist prints of women in straw hats and gingham dresses gathering flowers in an English Garden. I cringe at the large brass lamps, and the teal bathroom rugs and toilet lid covers make me squeal in disgust. The fake pothos in the glazed basket by the fireplace clouds my mind. I gnash my teeth at the mocha towels, salmon and ecru place mats, blond cabinets and dressers, and mauve napkin rings. A home, even a temporary one, should be one’s refuge from the vicissitudes of the world and the mundane drudgery of workaday life. When I come home from work, however, I find not relief but madness. Every morning and every night I enter the land of desperation and frenzy. As I try in vain to prepare a simple meal for breakfast or dinner, my mind reels at the jade overstuffed love seats with taupe flower-printed pillows. In the dark of the night I awake from cursed dreams of lilac pewter ware and cinnamon teapots, screaming and clutching my dusty rose and celery bedspread. The horror! The horror!

Send help

No, I'm not M.I.A.

I'm a P.O.W. I'm in the Guantanamo Bay of VFX Studios -- no contact with the outside world allowed. My desk faces the wall in a huge room and there are a bunch of other people behind me. With my headphones on all day it's easy for supervisors, interrogators, etc., to sneak up behind me and ask me what I'm doing...thus, no internet time. I work from 8:30 to 18:30, which may not seem like a lot, but after my sojourn in the free world when I was accustomed to waking up at the crack of noon every day, it's torturous. And after pushing pixels for 9 hours the last thing I want to do when I get home is plug in the laptop. I just want to sit here and take in the smell of cat piss. But that's a story for another day. Because holy christ it's 12:23 -- past lights out! I'll get 3 days in solitary if I'm caught up this late.

Adieu L.A.

This weekend I take my leave of the City of Angels and strike out for the City of...Franciscos. I'm coming out of retirement and going back into Visual Effects. No longer will every night be a Friday night, and everyday a Saturday; no longer will I be able to drive downtown for my Chano's fix; no longer will I be retireded. I have 2 days to pack everything I'll need for the next two months and then I'm off. It's a rather sudden decision, I know, but some of life's best adventures often result from spur-of-the-moment choices such as this. I wish I had time for a Coming-Out-Of-Retirement Party. Perhaps I'll just wait the two months until I retire once more, returning triumphantly to Hollywood in my grand chariot ('92 Honda Accord) and have an even bigger bacchanal then. It will be a true occasion for rejoicing, and rejoicings call for drunken orgies, do they not?

Why am I coming out of retirement? Because the circle is not yet complete. When I was a senior in the Film program at Berkeley I applied for an internship at Industrial Light + Magic, George Lucas' effects company in San Rafael. I didn't get it, and I ended up interning as a storyboard artist for an independent film studio in SF. At the time I had no idea that a career in the VFX industry awaited me post-graduation. Now, almost ten years later, I'm going back up north to work for the first studio to which I ever applied. This cycle of my life will have reached its denouement. The epilogue will echo the prologue, and I will be finished with visual effects, poetically speaking. Then I can cast off the shackles of digital artistry forever and the real retirement shall begin. Let freedom ring.