Koyaanisqastsi - Stunning, way-cool vid-mash

This is an amazing, mashed-up clip from the 1982 underground favorite film "Koyaanisqatsi," (The Hopi Indian word for "life in motion," or "life out of balance.") It is the first of three films using time lapse, fast motion, extraordinary videography and a creepy soundtrack to study the way people and the planet work. And, I guess, how we do stuff. This version is mashed with a song by "The Strokes," called "Reptilia," and it's pretty cool. Note the giant housing complex about two minutes in: It's the infamous "Pruitt-Igoe" housing project that changed the way we think about public housing. All public officials should have to read about this disaster. The film was perceived strangely in '82, if I recall. Looked at as part psychedelia trip, part study in video possibilities. Came across as probably an environmentally-flavored piece when it first came out, showing how we screw everything up, but it is absolutely stunning to watch. I suggest following the links and playing as many as possible, then buying the whole series and spending about five hours in rapt amazement. Then donate lots of cash to some worthy cause.
Or you could just watch this.
The second film came about six years later, and had help from George Lucas, I believe. I'll post a piece of it later. The final film was about six years ago. I have yet to track it down for a review.
Enjoy this, and you'll never look at the world the same again, ever.

Follow up on Bond boat

I've been getting some flak on the James Bond post, about the famous boat jump. Here's the background and the coolest piece of rock in any film, just as a bonus.

As I mentioned in a previous post, the boat jump was helped and made possible through a group of Tulane Univ engineering students, and reportedly, a little jet fuel - it depends who you believe.
"Oh, James..."

As I hinted in the previous post, there's a clue to finding some of the other "Missing" Bond Boats: If you look close, you'll see that the seat is in the MIDDLE, and not on the right side. That was true with ALL of the LALD (Live and Let Die) boats. By placing the chairs in the middle, the driver's weight was located on a central plane, reducing the "roll." The chairs also all had "slides," to move back and forth, adjusting the weight of the driver, to control "yaw." Click on the left photo for more useless Bond info.

No time to fall from the sky

The great bird gave up its struggle after about five minutes.
She had spent several months in rehabilitation before that frosty morning in Highland Park Reserve. Her wings were weak, but her captivity probably made the urge to hunt again even stronger.
Poised on my Mother's arms, the nameless Red Tailed hawk’s giant talons seemed to claw at the air, awaiting a chance to strike out and break back into the atmosphere.
After a quiet countdown, she pushed the raptor up into the air for a final boost.
One quivering flutter of her wings and the hawk was once again broken from gravity’s jealous hold.
The great raptor remembered her flying skills quickly, going from a clumsy marionette bob to a sleek, liquid motion with her wings. After heading for the highest local treetop, she gave those rediscovered flying muscles a chance to re-fuel with oxygen. Over the next ten minutes, the hawk hopped between treetops, getting her “air wings” back.
The release was part of an effort spearheaded by my sister-in-law, Sally. Between my father and my siblings, we were able to keep Mom’s raptor release gift a birthday secret until the last moment. It was the kind of present you can’t really wrap; Thankfully, the Hallmark® Machine has yet to create a card for such an occasion.
I’ve had an epiphany of sorts over the last few years on the whole bird issue. I’m hardly a bird watcher, but my fascination with any thing or machine that flies has grown. I’ve visited the Wright Brother’s monument in Kill Devil Hills, N.C several times, and I've even made a feeble hang-gliding attempt off similar dunes down the road.
In reading about Orville and Wilbur’s accomplishments, I am convinced that they were geniuses, far ahead of their time. To think what they accomplished just that morning shows how their knowledge of flight grew exponentially with each putter of the 12-horse homemade powerplant. Yes, they not only created the first true airplane, they designed an engine that was arguably better than any of its day.
The lure of flight goes back eons, probably to early cave dwellers who watched in awe as great birds hunted from the skies, grabbing rodents, fish and larger prey after slow pirouettes from high above.
My fascination with birds has grown along with my respect for the Wrights: Two high school drop out bike makers who spent a decade researching all they could about flying. Most of what was known was either loose rumor or speculation, but the Wrights applied everything learned, and then finished the formula and applied it. They tested and refined the whole flying process so much that they went from that 120-foot first flight to seven times that distance – in one day!
Orville Wright once explained flight this way: “The airplane stays up, because it doesn’t have the time to fall.”
Since that morning at Kitty Hawk, flying has become an accepted part of human life, albeit expensive and persnickety. I won’t get into how poorly managed the airline industries have become, but I can tell you that even under the best circumstances, none of them could achieve what Orville and Wilbur did that morning. They might have provided tiny bags of peanuts to on-lookers, or offered half-full bottles of sarsaparilla, but that’s about it.
The airline industry has stood on the shoulders of giants for decades, bragging about the view.
They are nothing like Orv and Will, who were renowned as “nut cases” for how they would try to mimic the gulls of the Outer Banks, running around with their arms all twisted and fluttering.
But they later proved everyone wrong on the poetic sand dunes of the Outer Banks. To see that event would have been life changing; I’ve always wanted to see one of the Concordes take-off, and I’ve yet to witness a space launch. I’m pretty sure my heart would stop briefly if I did.
Frenchman Rene Gasnier (who later went on to become an aviator) witnessed one of the Wright Brothers’ 1908 flights in France. He said that compared to the Wrights, “We are but children.”
We are still children, over a century later.
I felt that way as I watched that unnamed Red Tail glide around Highland Park: Trying not to blink, and fiercely jealous of that bird as it rediscovered and unwrapped the gift of flight. The sheer awkward poetry of its slow, graceful learning exercise was almost enough to make me forget about the little bag of peanuts thing.