Good morning, everyone!
At least, that's what it is here. 12:49 in the MORNING, to be exact.
Look forward to the witching hour, as I await my coffee brew and opened up Premiere Pro to put in some smooth hours into my movie, editing, editing, editing.
It's really been a wonderful process. For all the time investment that editing itself requires (each day I have off I typically put in 7-8 hours worth, perhaps more). What you may not realize is just how intensive it becomes for even a short collection of footage.
Let me rephrase that. As I should have before, really, when the simple concept was in my mind.
For the 7 or so hours I edited yesterday, I ultimately got to the 28:08:04 (minute/second/millisecond) mark. Even then, I had already gotten five or so minutes "completed" some days before.
Of course, the file length decreases along the way. Mind you, the footage for this current project stands at 42:41:06. Hopefully I'll get the remaining minutes done sooner rather than later today.
Including this current workspace, the project in its entirety stands now at a trimmed 4 1/2 to 5 hours. What was first conceived as a movie will likely need to be broken up into episodes of some nature (hint hint).
Taking the footage was the easy part.
Now the editing.
Then the music. That'll be the real challenge for me.
Plus, I've got other aspects to tie in on the side, including a story collection.
PLUS, I'm still struggling to tie it all together, at least in time for the movie.
But that's a story for another time.
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Here are a few random tidbits from my life that may interest you, otherwise:
1) It has been suggested to me by a coworker that I check out Steven Seagal movies. I watched Hard To Kill the other day, and did enjoy it. I am going to watch Executive Decision next. I'm watching the free ones to start.
2) I am flirting with the idea of watching Twin Peaks again in its entirety. Words can hardly describe why, but if you're familiar with the show, I'm confident you'll have one of my reasons of your own to add. I began to watch Frasier again for the third time. I already watched it in its entirety twice. Call me a sucker for shows that call to my emotions and heart and mind and soul and what have you and so be it. \m/,. :o]
3) I keep telling myself to take short naps and end up going to sleep for hours. For God's sake, all I want is to be awake for the day and maybe have a Ballantine or two on my weekend nights, lmao. If you're familiar with Frasier, I decided to give the beer a go, seeing as Martin loves it so much. The version I tried didn't impress me much, but I don't quite know if it was the exact same. The cans were certainly different, but that could be twenty+ years and a lost recipe away, so I don't know. I like to connect with visual but imaginarily-substanced characters, okay? (Hell, any characters that appeal to me.)
4) There really isn't anything important that I am trying to say in this last point here, I am only trying to get the word count up to 600 so I can spend my time working on my personal project and editing so I can share it and not have to put off the gratification of that any longer so let's go let's go let's GO!!!!!
About the Creator
Z-Man
\m/,
Hello all! I am an aspiring vocalist, filmmaker + writer. I hope you gain something personal + inspiring from my work here. You are also welcome to subscribe to my YouTube Channel: Ad-Libbing With The Zman.
Thank You!
Zach
B']
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins7 days ago in Fiction
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