Friday, December 26, 2008

Mecanique



This is my Sr. Project.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

WEE!! Let there be. . LIGHT

After Dozens of Hours, I have finally finished what has kept me from my friends. . . This is my first time really trying hard with lighting. And I still have a ton of stuff to learn. . .but yeaa. Textured and modeled everything myself, and lit it myself within Maya. Most of everything is 1024-2048 diffuses with Specs and Normals on them all.



Monday, December 8, 2008

I'm all kinds of an artist.

So. I decided to post the shit I do. I mean. . . I guess it's my life and stuff.


Wednesday, August 13, 2008

21st Street Co-Op


As taken from wikipedia.com. . .

"The 21st Street Co-op, commonly compared to a treehouse, is a clothing-optional student housing cooperative in Austin, Texas housing 100 residents. It is part of the NASCO co-op system. . . The residents of the 21st Street Co-op are affectionately referred to as Motherf***ers."


So. We left New Orleans. Bourbon street can only be related to something from the Bible. Something filled with adultery, boozing, gluttony, and humidity. It's fucking awesome. Every town needs something where we can all get our sinning on. Or at least have a cigarette Vending Machine. $4 body shots and transvestite bars blare down your throat and you want to just drink it all in. There is only so much a boy who doesn't even smoke hookah can handle.

10 hours later we arrived in Austin. We crashed at a friend's house and decided to search for a hostel the next morning. Humidty is still the theme on our adventure and has yet to stop breathing down our necks and telling us how pretty we smell. We walked down 21st street and walked into something that looked like. . .well. . . it could be a Hostel. A kid doing dishes tells us It is not a hostel, but a Co-Op dorm for college kids. . . and points us to a direction where we may get help. We sigh. . .and continue walking. But no more than a few seconds, the kid runs after us and tells in a nut shell. . ."Fuck it, you're staying with us"

Already, walking through the middle of the place we can smell a different odor. A metaphorical odor. . . Kids here are just darling. Nice, forgiving, welcoming, and work together for a purpose. College Kids are running a dorm themselves. Taking turns cooking, cleaning, fixing the broken shit, and breaking the none broken shit. . . . then fixing it again. Oh. . . it's also clothing optional. The first day I already saw weiner. Hell yes. Oh, it was the Chef's too. They fed us and parties with us. The accepted us as their own and are helping us rest and eat while we prepare for a long 18 hour . . 2 day drive home. We loved it here so much we actually are crashing on the couches a second night. Well worth the decision for Capture the flag games have brought back memories of times that didn't suck as much as they do while you're older. So. None of these pictures are mine. So don't yell at me people from the Daily Texan.

But Austin is treating us well, especially since this is the last couple days of our lengthy journey. The fucking Anecdotes we will have. . . You kids ever seen a guy go in the rafters and piss in his own mouth??

The fucking anecdotes.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Andrew WK broke my Camera.


Hahaha. And this is the picture I took to see if it still works. Sad to say, Once I hit Mississippi, the Camera went super dead. But. New York was pretty awesome. What was even better, Andrew WK's apartment. Not only is this cat the nicest, sweetest, most awesomely bad ass guy ever. . . . He's as beautiful in person as he is on the television. Walking in on the interview, he automatically was more interested in us, then it seemed we were of him. He wanted to know everything about us. He gave us words of wisdom and advice that chilled me. He talked of love, positivity, life, death, Evil Dead the musical, and the greatest band ever, Manowar. He gave us ice water, we got to check out the view in his Times Square apartment, meet his wife. . . and he gave us autographed LPs of Close Calls to Brick Walls.

But he still dropped my Camera.

And offered to buy me a new one.

Andrew WK wanted to buy me a new camera. Haha. I didn't accept of course, but he did invite us to his night club. And I did get to see him out of his regular white pants/white shirts outfit. And didn't even recognize him. Not only is he super nice, he is really to himself and loves alone time and just hanging out. And all his songs about partying. . . really is about just being positive and happy.

Anyways. After New york we drove to Tennessee and hung out with my redneck cousins. Then more Redneck cousins in Mississippi, then even red necker cousins in the delta of Mississippi. I'm sorry. But this blog is incredibly boring. Not only do I not really have a ton of pictures, but I am in New Orleans and more tired than something that is super tired all the time. I don't know. . . a sloth or something. Make your own damn metaphor. I quit.














Lucky Sloth.

Lucky.


-Erich "2 Tired 2 Handle" WK!!

Sunday, August 3, 2008

My Day with Jeff Rosenstock.


Well. We hit Maine. We Hit Lobster Fest. And All I got with this Silly picture. But heck. It rained like hell and we got $16 awesome Maine lobster. The actual Fair wasn't as glamorous and beautiful as the postcards made it. There weren't any Lobster Bikini Babes feeding me that delicious white sea faring meat out of silver forks. And there were no mermaids singing me Siren songs. But it was still kinda, somewhat, not really, ugh. . . worth it. I reaked of lobster for two days. I guess that's cool. I guess. We were lucky enough to go to Portland and realize there was no where to sleep. Making a few phone calls we found a place to crash with a family we never met. But they were awesome. They fed us, let us use their shower, gave us beds, and I'm sure would have offered bed time stories of lobster catching, having New England accents, and other things that relate to everyday Maine life. But we were tired. And we fell asleep.

The next day though. . . that was a different story.
We wake up to blue skies. Blue lakes, and blue berries. Or how the New Englander's pronounce. . Boo Burry. They remind me of a cross between Mayor Quimby and JFK. It's awesome. The owner of the house took us out on the boat, we water skiied, canoed, and swam in warm lake water.

So the next day we slept in Jersey. The end.

The day after that though. . . We made it to New York!! Upon entering this awesome city, The toll booth lady called me an asshole for no apparent reason. A breath of fresh air. But today was awesome. We got to do our third interview for this Road Trip Nation deal. And it was one of the ones I was most excited for. It was with Jeff Rosenstock. He is a manly man who heads Bomb the Music industry, and used to be the leader of Arrogant Sons of Bitches. I was so nervous. Would he be an asshole. . . rendering my BTMI tattoo completely irrelevent? We entered his third story apartment and him and his girlfriend were cooking vegan sausage, gravy, and grits. He goes. . . "Hey! You guys eaten yet?"
"Um. . . no not really. ."
"Well. . . want some food?"
We nodded, and we ate. He is the most awesome person. Especially because he doesn't really view himself as a rock star or something more than he really is. Or anyone is really, a person. He is so down to earth. We talked music, joked, played Mario Kart on the wii and had an amazing interview. He then brought up that he was going to see the Black Lips for free in the middle of Brooklyn. We jumped the oppurtunity to hang out with him some more and agreed to an amazing show. My first day in New York, and I already get to hang out with one of my heros, watch an amazing free show, and get to eat amazing Vegan food twice. Currently I'm in my hostel in Harlem and a Crack Head entered the premises, went into someone's room and stole their wallet.

God. The air is so fresh.

Tomorrow we Interview Andrew WK.

And today. Are some pictures.


-erich "i left my heart in montreal" beckmann.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

French Intermission

Quebec

So Toronto blew our feeble minds into the most delicious Tapioca Pudding any Grandmother could ever make. I can't even begin to describe with words on it's velocity and grandeur. It was if Rick Moranis himself decided it was time to make a sequel to his greatest legacy, and shrunk me down. I felt so small and unimportant in this massive city. But it felt good. Not saying I was ever important or big. I'm pretty sure if a bus wasn't legally obligated to pull over and wait for police, it'd run me over because it feels sorry for me. I've always hated Buses. Metal monsters.

So. Then We left Toronto and Ventured into Quebec. Surprisingly enough, they didn;t bother assimilating us to their language or culture. As soon as we crossed the border to our new Provincial Weekday home, Everything went to French. It was awesome. Landing in Montreal at 12 am we were stunned. This did not feel like Canada.
The streets are cobblestone. The roads constantly narrow in and widen out. Alley ways appear as quickly as lightning bugs, and when you look to see it, they disapear. Buildings were erected in 1800s and everyone is speaking french. And it's sexy. Going into a bar at 1 am, nervous as a rat in a blender. Everyone in the bar is speaking French, and we are shitty American kids from California who's only frabric of a second language consists of the most important of spanish words. Like Bano, Cerveca, and Donde Esta El Donkey Show? Talking to the bartender, she smiled and spoke in french. We informed her we suck and don't know what the fuck she's saying, and her smile never breakens. Her cute accent is thick and begins to tell us all about Montreal and answers our questions as fast as we throw them. Even to the point where buzzed Canadians wanted more booze to kill the pain, and they couldn't get her attention. This was basically and IS basically the treatment we get here.

I do wish we knew what the hell the streets signs mean. Surprisingly enough French is similiar to Spanish so I can make out a few words, but god help me if I will translate military time. I'm lazy enough as it is. I don't need a homework assignment. Our Hostel is insane, though. I will admit. Gipsy-esque Caravans surround the eating table outside, and hold two beds. The insides look like something out of a 19th century carnival caravan. But we are poor and are sleeping inside.




But the inside is littered with cobblestone walls that look like a bootleg cellar, and crudely erected wooden monstrosities also known as bunk beds. The beds are the finest of air mattresses, filled with what we assume, the finest of Canadian hot breath. It is amazing, though. Everyone is younger, and parties and wants to party. 20+ people fill these double decker bed dorms and I pulled the lame straw and was given the choice to share a bed with Erick or Tice. I would rather die than share a bed with either of those smelly assholes and chose to sleep under the bottom bunk. I have about two feet of space above me, but am given a comfortable amount of room around me. I did sleep soundly, though I hit my head on the bottom of the bed loud enough to wake up my comrades and a few other travelers. I assume the nice Tokyo man, Shatoro. I will admit. . . . Montreal. You amaze me in the greatest ways possible.


Bless you.

-Erich WK!!
Nighttimer/Partycrasher.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Captains Log: Sixth Entry

Man. Oh Man. Oh Man. Oh man.

Leaving Minnesota (god bless, them midwesterners) we traveled Eastward and reached Wisconsin. I won't lie. Neither will Tice. And Neither will Erick. We had terrible expectations of Wisconsin. You hear the word Wisconsin and for some reason you get Diahrrea and terrible head colds. No offense to you Wisconsinites, but when have we seen an episode of "Guy's Gone Wild! WISCONSIN EDITION".

But hell, man. We pulled up in our Hostel in Madison. . . walked into our room and smelled the sweet scent of sweat, humidity, and a chinese kitchen. And realized. "All is well" Walking into town blew our minds. What an entertainingly cute and awesome college town. Indie shops, Veg shops, non corporate stores and plenty of strapping college students who have probably just done something completely regretful the night before. Don't worry kids, you will be on youtube the next morning. Or if you're very lucky. Porntube. In short. Madison > Suck.

Driving eastward even more, we reached Chicago. Humidity seemed to be the new theme of our adventures. Being kids from a desert, like San Diego. . . Humidity was somewhat of a new concept. We heard stories in the bible about this weather fenom., but for christ's sake. Really? It can be -20 degrees outside. But with 100% humidity, it's 90+. whoever invented the weather should be fired for being drunk on the job. But I will tell you, and we all will. Chicago is a hell of a town. We rode the subway (my first time) and went to bars that don't suck (my first time, no thanks to you Pacific Beach, you cheap date of a bastard.) And we ate a real Chicago Deep Dish Pizza Pie at Gino's East. Hats off to you, Chicago. . . for cuddling with us after sex, instead of just leaving us to feel like whores. And also, thanks to you Ashley and Courtney (Erick's Cousins) for being awesome White Girls and showing us around town.

Currently we are in Toronto Canada, the biggest city of my life. And I'm typing this on an eleven year old's computer. . . so I don't feel right ripping pictures on it. I was on a Boy's Gone Wild website ready to download some ridiculous pictures to post them on this blog. . . and thought to myself. "Man, this aint right. . . there's kids behind me sleeping". And no stupid Michael Jackson jokes from the said comment. You guys are jerks enough to me as it is.


-Erich Shaun Beckmann, speaking for Matice, and Erick L.

P.S. <3Amelia Mattis<3

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Super Three Kid Dynamites! (King of Minneapolis Part III & IV)



So. The end of our last three Space Cadet's adventures, they were fighting against an seemingly endless army of Cowboys, cattle, and Teenagers stuck in the fashions of 2002. Flying non stop (except to see stupid road side attractions and truck stops) they maneuvered through the unimpressive Mount Rushmore. The expensive Crazy Horse, and really awesome Wind Cave. IT PRODUCES REAL WIND. Well. Our heros didn't enter said cave, It was also expensive. So they pondered what could behind the metal gate protecting the cave and her secrets. Giant Bats? Giant Centipedes? Giant booby traps? Maybe an Ice Golem that you must destroy in order to stop the mass of cold air it produces. And the more they hit it, the faster it flashes red until it explodes. They only could speculate.
So instead, our three amigos looked inside a hole. It was dirty. That was about it.




Stage two in the Midwest level lead them to So many road side attractions you could fall asleep while listening to the stories. So. . . prepare to take a bunch of Jolt!
This is a theme park. Tice, Erich, and Erick thought it sucked. They did enjoy the recreation of the Flintstones, Hats, though.





Los Tres Ninos drove many miles and saw many many signs for something Called "Wall Drug" BY SHIT! They screamed! There is are drugs that need to be eviscerated. For Drugs are not Straight Edge. They followed the Badambillion signs they saw for the effin place and turned off in a town called Wall. Sadly it wasn't a giant Drug/Trash monster spewing HIV needles and farting Marijuana smoke. It was in fact a giant Drug Store. Actually, the biggest drug store any man has ever created. Not even a drug store, more of a drug store theme park. With singing Cowboys, useless crap, singing gorillas, Jackelopes, and Dinosaurs that roar a ton.
















Stage Three! THE CORN PALACE.Stage Zero! The Corn Palace in the 20s!

After the road side adventures They finally reached level Three. MINNESOTA!!!!! To them, this was more than just more god damn farm land. This was their first major city in weeks. They finally got to hang out with kids as hip and in the know of what Degrassi is. Minneapolis blew their minds. Erich's favorite city so far. Tice loved it. Erick loved it. They also got to crash in the house of a family they never met before.

They have 60000 points and now are up to Eight lives. Where will it take them? Mall of America, perhaps? Milkwaukee next. . .then maybe followed by Level Five. . .The Wind City?

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Chapter 4: Trucker's tans, and seatbelt rashes.

That picture was taken in Rapid City, South Dakota. It confused all of us to an entire degree. The 27% on my mac is telling me I need to rush this rant.

So we couldn't make it to Spokane. We got incredibly tired and spent a night at the most overpriced camping chain ever, K.O.A. $30 to sleep on dead grass next to an overpass.

And the odd amount of feral cats was making all three of us nervous. . . -_-

The next stop was Yellowstone. We decided to become true road cowboys and go for the Hail Mary. That meant 12 Hours to Yellowstone national Park. So we did it. And we go there pretty late at night. So late that there was no one at the entrance to make us pay their insane fee of $25. So we drove and ended up realizing every camping spot was full. Eff camping spots all of us exclaimed! We shall sleep outside. Like Roosevelt Did when he founed this awesome place. So we found a pic-a-nic area away from the road and parked our cars. I immediately became a little girl and realized Bears live in yellowstone and will eat my tasty mexican ass. So I decided to sleep in the car. My companions decided to rough it and sleep outside. But a symphony of unidentifiable noises was heard all night long. The sound of a rabbit farting was the last straw and they crammed their butts into the car and I had the worst night's sleep yet. Whatever, yellowstone was beautiful.

We are in Rapid City, South Dakota right now and there isn't much to say. . . except for these pictures. Enjoy.



ps. This is a Drive thru coffee shop where girls serve creepy old truckers Latte's in bikinis.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Ready. . . Set. . . Noooooo!!

Diary: Day 5-7
So us three dudes left Portland. Erick was trashed from continually winning games in beer pong and corners, and was making life Difficult by seeming very unpleasant about having to wake up at 6 in the morning to catch the 12:40 Ferry ride from Port Angeles, Washington to Victoria in Vancouver Island. Which is in Canada, eh? And I tell you what. . I have never seen so many bridges in my life. There are rivers all through Oregon and Washington, with tons of bridges scattered. I loved it. The only bridge San Diego has is Coronodo, and that bridge scares the hell out of my everytime I go over it. We got this picture in Washington.

So we jump on a ferry, third to last car that was able to get on it. And that's Tice. He is more excited than a hummingbird. Go Tice, Go. So two hours later we reached Canada. And hell yea they spotted us California boys as trouble. The pulled us to the side, made me give up my Mace that is supposed to protect me from all the wood trolls I will be camping next to. Now they completely stripped searched the car took out every bag, looked at every dirty piece of underwear and then we realized something.

"Wait. . . .did Scotty forget his bag in our car??" Now Scotty. He stayed behind in Portland and smokes a lot. And not cigarettes. We wish it was cigarattes. Our hearts started pounding incontrollobly. Thoughts ran through our heads. . "Scotty was very drunk last night. . but did he remember to take the bag out of his car?? Cause we didn't". "Wait, is this stuff legal here?" "Are Canadian jails like summercamp at a colonoscopy camp??" Every second was painful. Our mouths dried. I'm pretty sure I became the proud owner of a couple dozen grey hairs. And at the very end, the only thing the cops found was my second I.D incase I lost my first one. They seemed confused on why I had two and decided to intensly question that. But hell. It seemed Scotty was cognent enough to take his bag. Bullet dodge. But hell! We were in Vancouver Island. So many trees, so many nice people, and Ketchup Chips.

Now the second day we were hear, my step mother, (who's house we were crashing in) ran in screaming, "FIRE!!!!!!" I thought. Oh heck yes. I love fires. But she clocked me and made me realize this wasn't the kind of fire smores are made in. These are the kind of fires where woodland creatures run away screaming "WTF!!" I now have a fond respect for firefighters, especially the San Diegan kind. Because I was in the middle of that hellish blaze with quite possibly the cheapest COSTCO hose with water pressure that rivals the squirt guns from Zombie Ate my Neighbors. (The worst $.99 squirt guns evar). So inside the blaze I hosed off my singed legs and hot feet to keep the rubber from melting. By the times trees started collapsing, I realized that infact American Apparell did not make fireproof t-shirts. Infact I think they were made of gasoline and christmas trees. But behold, the Canadian all Volunteer fire brigade choke held that fire until it's tears distuingished itself. It was pretty awesome.





Next stop. . . Spokane? Ugh.

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I am a student at the Art Institute of San Diego, CA. I play in bands that play as fast as possible, and ride bikes as fast as possible.