Photography + Film
- Stripped State: Laurel Canyon Recordings (2018)
- cipher e/ dreams (2017)
- Almost X (2016)
- Sunrise Highway (2015)
- Particle Theory (2014)
- transient lines (2013)
- still echoes (2013)
- Reflected: 10×10 (2002-2012)
- :^D (2011)
- Hola, Sayulita! (2010)
- Goodbye Monday Blue (2009)
- Goodbye Monday #Bsides (2009)
- Stay Home v. The Love Shoppings (2007)
- Windfall (2004)
- [img] “Do you think they tossed it because the kid’s a musical disappointment?” Luna queried. “C’mon,” I shook my head. “Not everyone’s Conservatory bound.” She turned and taunted at a parlor window. “What’s the matter, can only play in C? Can’t handle 3/4 time?!” “OK, let’s go.”
- [img] “Hey, asshat,” Luna piqued, “why am I wet?” “My app said no rain for a couple hours, but this cell-” “So get a new app, asshat.” “Where did you learn that word?” “From you,” she gazed off, “the asshat.” Voice Over: “Remember, people who say asshat have dogs who say asshat.”
- [img] 10-inch LPs are the puppies of records. // The Clash – “Black Market Clash” (1980)
- [img] Summers Fripp and a Sleeping Puppy
- [dispatch] stationary chevy update 20190715.1717
- [img] love at 40.8931648, -72.3236284 degrees
- [img] If you don’t like Bruce, we can still be friends.
- [aired] Blue Skies over the Other Side of the End
- [words] of #pride and particle theory
- [aired] Kites Riding Waves
- [img] underground feeds
- Eye-Roll 20190617a
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Tag Archives: cat thomas
thanks @catmthomas for 17 xclnt years! had no bottles from 2000, so a 27 y/o will do. :^D
May 28, 2017 at 06:36PM
Photo: @catmthomas. Thx to everyone who deemed me, and then The Tell, worthy of Saturday night. Had a blast. Until the next time!
May 21, 2017 at 01:35AM
[year's end tradition read] A true New Year's story, courtesy of Orion… “The Light Walkers” https://t.co/AIXWBWGcOY
— ../westy (@westyreflector) December 30, 2016
December 30, 2016 at 05:17PM
— ../westy (@westyreflector) September 7, 2016
September 07, 2016 at 03:07PM
— westy (@westyreflector) May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 06:54PM
3 oz. Reyka vodka
1 tbsp. grated ginger
juice of 1 lime
3 oz. simple syrup
top w/ club soda + lime wheel
My wife, Cat, is an xclnt, award-winning film & tv costume designer, and my front row seat to her work is electrifying and teeming with inspiration. That said, her job takes her away from me, sometimes quite distant, for very long stretches.
When she filmed Kill Bill in 2002, she shuttled between Los Angeles, Tokyo and Beijing for 8 months, came home to NYC for 1 week and then went to Mexico and LA for 3 more months. During that production, including the 7 days she was home, we saw each other a grand total of 23 days. Most of her jobs aren’t that far-flung, but even when she works close by for a few months, as she did in Boston on last year’s The Heat, seeing her often, or at all, is always difficult. Now, Cat is again away – this time in New Orleans until July on a film called Untitled Texas Buddy Comedy.
Longing is as much a process as an emotion. You can miss something, or someone, without longing for it, or her, or him. Once the longing sets in, though, that’s where the heartbreak starts. Collected here are tracks I’ve written over the last 10 years to deal with various states of longing. In these songs, I see evolution, but also constant threads, in my perspective on Cat’s absences. If you’ve ever longed for someone – or some time or place or thing – you’ll relate.
You and I never get enough
Time to make
More than a beautiful blur
Late one late December day in the late ’00s, on a new-mooned new-years evenight in the Mexican-not-Mayan Riviera, a small vacation coven gathered under soft starlight, poolside on a bluff overlooking an inking Pacific Ocean. As the group’s just-like-grandma’s cake started to kick in, Orion turned away from Earth for a few moments and a twinge of lawlessness neuroscaped through them one by one, in a cascade.
“Something big needs to happen in secret,” Har Mar said to me as the last strains of his (at that point, unreleased) danceblast, Dark Touches, echoed from a boomboxpod by the pool.
“Let’s steal a star,” I said. “Ever done that, Kingpin?”
Har Mar looked off to the side for a split second, then back at me. He brought his hand to his chin and put his forefinger on his lips in a serious gaze. Then he cracked himself up.
Since neither of us wanted to amplify the Ultraviolence-Of-Tuohy caused by Orion’s absence, we vapored the party to the outshadows of our rental compound’s porch lights, away from our crew’s nightly “reflection circle,” to get tiny. We found ourselves slowstrolling a fire-ant field astride the ocean bluff. After a few minutes walking into the darkdark, without missing a beat, Har Mar turned to me, winked, reached up into the sky and stole a star from Orion’s belt.