Postcard of a Country Dinosaur w/ Sound
Made this yesterday...
Just Got This Today on Ebay
It's going on my car.
With how ridiculous the 2 party system has become,
I've decided to start campaigning
for a weird presidential candidate from 1988.
Come on baby! Let's go ALL THE WAY!!!
HUGE NEWS
Apparently, between now and the last time I bought detergent,
a massive change occurred within the laundry industry.
MASSIVE CHANGE, people.
MASSIVE.
SOOOOOOOO massive.
Im surprised it's not all over the news right now,
smashed right there between the murders, the rape victims,
and the tiny local girl
who won the big horse jumping contest.
Big news indeed, people.
So big.
Like an easter egg full
of gun powder
sitting under a magnifying glass
on the roof of a double decker bus.
(not sure where that came from... it just popped in there)
Yes sir... laundry will never be the same.
All of a sudden,
you can buy a detergent bottle
(any brand, mind you)
with
a
TAP.
Yes. A tap! Now you don't have to lift the bottle anymore.
And you can keep your Franzia next to the Gain and
everything will look
FINE.
Big news people.
So, so, so, so big.
Driving to the Perimeter of an Oklahoma Nightmare
Stayed up all night and made this.
All footage copyright Derek Doublin.
for a friend...
this blog entry
is for
an old best friend.
just wanted you to know,
even though i'm not around anymore,
i still love you
and i still
believe in you.
DON'T GIVE UP
and
don't change (too much).
i love you, ol' stumbly.
-derek
frins.
Where Your Stolen Bike Ends Up
Click to find your stolen bike.
The Country Ghost Train
I have been embarking on a new type of art recently. I'm not sure what it's called. It's a short, tiny burst of visual imagery, highly produced, created with the sole purpose of envoking a sense memory. I just wish I could add aromas and then I'd have all the senses covered.
The following video is my first attempt at this. Growing up in Oklahoma, I always fell asleep to the sound of a distant train. This is a portrayal of that ghost train. Since my house was a half mile from the railroad tracks, and I was usually tucked into bed when the train passed, I never got a chance to see it. I just heard its call, bellowing deep from within the country, as if it were the night itself. Making this little film made me realize just how much I love the sound of a distant, evening train.
I have added this video to my new Flickr photo account. If you'd like to check out my photos, just drop on by my Flickr Page.
An Arkan-Sassy Weekend Full of Sass!
Sass! Last week I joined a few friends on a road trip to a small town in Arkansas to watch Red and Digsy play a sassy show. Red is a brilliant song writer and a solo piano player. Digsy is a versatile drummer and an all-around fantastic musician. 8 of us all jumped in Red's rapist van and hit the highway on a care free road trip into razorback country. Here we see Morgan of the Sister's Boone, thinking about pie. 
The town they were playing in was called Ozark and I tell ya, it was about as southern as they come. In fact, immediately upon arrival, the FIRST thing I see is THIS: a guy in a CONFEDERATE TANK TOP.
Um... how do you say FANCY in Arkansas Drawl? 
The people were all very friendly to us (since we're WHITE) and I'd probably remember a lot more had I not been drinking Long Island Ice Tea the entire time. In fact, I got so hammered I decided to try and start an old fashioned cowboy bar fight by throwing a glass. But before I got the chance, Red (THE KING OF THROWING GLASSES) begged me to refrain and I did, after a little bartering. As the night advanced, I ended up meeting a crazy, local girl named Julie who had a friend with a missing tooth. When her friend disappeared and I asked her where "the guy with the missing tooth went" she said, "I don't know who the hell you're talking about!!! AALLLLL MY FRIENDS have missing teeth!"
The show went well and I received a FREE $7.00 Long Island Ice Tea after my waiter spilled a drink on my THOUSAND DOLLAR camera with the EIGHT HUNDRED dollar wide angle lens.
After the show we drove to a cabin by Lake Eufala. Melissa, Red, and myself all slept in one room, with Red jumping in the top bunk. Red is not known for his limber, agile, sportsman-like anatomy and had a very hard time getting on the bed. I found this to be VERY amusing. Once he got up there, he became STRANDED and couldn't get down. I remember him saying that he felt like he was living in India. When I asked him why he felt like he was living in India he replied with confidence: "I have a feeling they stack 'em up pretty high in India."
In the morning, we all convened in the living room and left Red stranded on the top bunk. He hovered around the edge for about ten minutes, like a nervous dog on a diving board. Like the wonderful person that I am, instead of getting the ladder and helping my friend out, I just laughed at him and took pictures.
Partnership for a Camel Toad Free America
Don't Do Camel Toads!
Click to View
Accomplishing My Childhood Dream
I remember a time in the first grade, when my teacher had the class
draw pictures of what we all wanted to be when we grew up.
Most kids I knew wanted to be sports stars or astronauts.
Not me.
I wanted to be a GARBAGE MAN.
Why did I want to be a garbage man?
Because I wanted to ride on the back of the truck.
Why the fuck ELSE?
I distinctly remember watching the garbage truck drive by, and thinking it was so friggin' cool that a guy would just ride on the back, standing on the bumper the entire time. Everyone else on the road had to ride INSIDE their cars and sit in boring SEATS. The garbage man lived on the edge, balancing on his chariot, and sailing with the wind as he moved from homestead to homestead. Ahhhh yes... it was a romantic sight indeed.
And since I spent most of my spare time
playing in the dirt,
and rooting through dumpsters looking for treasure,
it seemed as though the life of a garbage man
was the perfect life for me.
Well... I had an epiphany tonight.
I am going to ACCOMPLISH my childhood dream.
I am going to apply to be a garbage man, dammit.
Just so I can say that I accomplished all the goals I
set for myself when I was 6 years old.
Beautiful Neighborhood Woman
"My, my... who ARE you?
And how did you get rid of all my unwanted unmentionables?"
Derek
(squinting and speaking with confidence)
"Well ma'am, my name is Derek.
Derek Christopher Doublin.
and I'm in charge of...
WASTE MANAGEMENT."
(Woman swoons, faints, and falls into a pile of leaves.)
(Derek jumps onto bumper of truck and zooms away.)
Ohhh.... Dem Dang Dogs.
I wish the following clip lasted 2 hours.
Sound is required for optimum enjoyment.
Seriously,
I could watch that guy shoo away random dogs allllllll day.
The Sugar Bush Squirrel.
In an earlier blog, I went on a rant about squirrels.
In that blog I included a picture of a squirrel in a fancy, royal outfit.
I did not know it at the time,
but that picture is a part of a 5,000 part series featuring a live squirrel.
YES... FIVE THOUSAND PHOTOS.
His name is "The Sugar Bush Squirrel" and he is a real, live Eastern Gray Squirrel who is owned and photographed by a woman named Ms. Kelly Foxton. The Sugar Bush Squirrel was rescued as a baby in her nest from a tree that was cut down.
Apparently, The Sugar Bush Squirrel loves to dress up, and has over 2,000 outfits (TWO THOUSAND SQUIRREL OUTFITS!! GLAMOROUS!!!) with matching hats and accessories. She also has her own, posh studio with an elaborate stage and thousands of stage props.
You can buy prints, calendars, and doodads HERE:
THE SUGAR BUSH SQUIRREL
The Age Pain Equation
Sometimes,
I end up sitting next to bitter, old guys at the bar,
that love to play the age card like its going out of style.
I do believe that with age comes education, life perspective,
and often times more intelligent and mature approaches to living.
But I have to say, when I see people act as if they have the market cornered on pain,
simply because of how old they are,
I have to bite my lip.
The age card does not automatically earn my sympathy when used in reference to desolation. And I don't buy it when people claim their torture to be "unique" or "special" because of their age.
Why?
It has been my experience, that age does not set the bar for how much suffering a person has been subjected too.
I have met CHILDREN that have experienced more pain in a single month than many 60 year olds have seen their entire lives. For example, a few years ago, I was substitute teaching at Linder Elementary in Austin, Texas. Just before the morning bell, a kid by the name of Damien walked in and sat down on the floor. He had his turtle neck pulled up over his head and he was acting bizarre and distant, so I decided to pull him aside and ask him what was wrong. It took a little bit of coaxing, but he eventually opened his flood gates, and proceeded to avow that he had just watched his father stab his mother TO DEATH in front of his very own eyes. I was in shock. I abruptly called the principal and in less than an hour, Damien was whisked away by the police. I never saw him again. I found out later that Damien's father had tortured his mother in the kitchen before she died, forcing him to sit in the living room throughout the entire ordeal.
Age does not mean ANYTHING when it comes to suffering,
as one, single swipe of the knife can spill enough blood
to stain a life forever.
So to all the bitter, old men out there,
including the bitter, old men of the future (one of which will probably be me),
never judge pain by age...
judge it by the weight of the eyes.
Remix Radiohed
Radiohead in cooperation with Apple just released some bits and pieces to their song "Nude" so that listeners may edit and remix them however they like. It's a really cool idea. I remember Beck doing something similar during his release of "Midnite Vultures".
It's always a good learning experience to dissect a song and I've been having a lot of fun listening to Jonny Greenwood's individual guitar parts as well as the isolated track of Thom York singing a cappella.
You can get the parts and listen to the different remixes here:
TEA!
So... I became a tea drinker this week.
Recently, a very special (and talented) woman
introduced me to some assorted tea.
On Thursday, I drank about 7 cups, each cup double bagged,
and stayed up for 2 days straight with no additional caffeine needed.
Granted, I kept thinking that all the leaves on the road were rats darting in front of my car, which was rather disturbing, but overall I still managed to maintain my limited social skills as well as the majority of my mental faculties.
For most of this week, I've been at The Jimmy Kimmel Show
meeting the producers, the writers, and the field directors
and preparing for a possible directing gig there.
I wasn't sure how I would like it as I'm told the fast paced production schedule
of late night television can be stressful and annoying.
But everyone was extremely gracious and kind,
and being WACKED out on that tea actually helped my social skills
for some reason unbeknownst to me. Really, the entire experience surprised me and I never felt uncomfortable once, even going on 2 days of no sleep.
So, now I'm a tea drinker.
And I can finally lay off all the crack and angel dust. FINALLY.
I was starting to get tired of having illegitimate children and chewing on my arm.
Sleep Deprived Rodent Rant 2008
sometimes I can feel my hands
slipping off the handle,
and my fingers snapping off the steel bar
one by one,
each with a sweaty squeak.
and my fingers snapping off the steel bar
one by one,
each with a sweaty squeak.
and yet EVEN THEN...
there in the throes of lunacy,
i cannot shake the feeling
that i'll never find the ground under my feet,
because i've never been grounded to begin with.
i have no idea what the ground feels like.
sometimes I wish my mind was less cluttered,
and I was just a big ol'
PAUNCHY SQUIRREL
with only one goal pounding through my being:
COLLECT MOUTH-WATERING ACORNS.
ahhhh, to wake up
wanting ACORNS and ONLY ACORNS
like fat kids
want butter beans.
wait...
scratch that.
not butter beans.
like fat kids want
MARSH MELLOW DINOSAUR EGGS.
ahh yes, to surrender to instinct completely.
the equanimity
of a pitch black mind
following
the bolt pistol.
i suppose even squirrels are
stuck with the mind mess, though.
they don't just think about acorns.
no ma'am.
that's only a romantic cavity we artists
desperately WANT squirrels to FILL.
The harsh reality of the world is:
Squirrels are NOT cartoons.
They are not simple and innocent.
no ma'am.
squirrels attack old people and children
and violently fuck everything they see.
(even dirty, old, grey shoes by the side of the road,
covered in dryer lint).
squirrels zip around like
retards on acid,
constantly reacting
to every jerk of the world.
sadly, they too have hard boiled eyes
and wet-towel-minds,
rigged with springs,
taut with tension,
and filled with triggers, cyphers,
and empty actions
they will never understand.
Snapped this the other Day
While out driving in the country, I found two things that don't go together. They were both by the side of the road. I simply placed one into the other and VOILA: Surrealism. This imagery makes me think of The Brave Little Toaster and how awesome a live action version of that movie would be.
Usually the remote control hides from the TV.
This time I think it's the other way around.
Click to View
Shot with a Canon 30D - 60mm USM Macro
I AM A FARMER NOW
Screw the world!
I'm a farmer now!
I plowed up my front yard and planted FOOD.
Henceforth, I shall spring LIFE from LAND!!
I shall bring FLORA to what once was VOID!
I shall BURGEON and HARVEST my crop!!
And I shall reap. In the name of Dimitra, GODDESS OF CORN... I SHALL REAP.
I will REAP my organic CHILDREN just as The Great Reaper reaps the SLAIN!
TAKE HEED my fellow enemies,
I AM NOW A FARMER!!!
And I SHALL FEAST!!!
(raising pitchfork in the air while lightning strikes it)
I SHHAALLLLL FFFEEAASSSSTTTTT!!!!!!
Okra Power! Tomatoe Power! Green Beans Power! Carrots Power!
Onions Power! Spinach Power! Squash Power! Peas Power!
White Sweet Corn Power! Strawberry Power! Potato Power!
FARM FEAST POWER, TWO THOUSAND EIGHT!
MY BEST FRIEND RAY PREWITT IS A MURDERER
This is a picture of one of my best friends.
His name is RAY.
And here is one of the headlines on CNN today:
I had no idea Ray was such a
POWERFUL and AGGRESSIVE swimmer.
That poor woman should have protected herself and taken notes from
THE LADY IN THE OTHER RIDICULOUS HEADLINE...
One letter away and that "Rat" becomes "Ray" which indicates
that Ray went on some water based killing spree, killing women
in the ocean and then shooting up the sewer line to kill again.
I actually didn't notice that last headline until I posted the first one.
I was just about to log out when I looked down and saw it.
Really CNN? Killer toilet rats? Front page national news? REALLY!?!??!
WITH VIDEO, TOO.
Barn Owl Bill
"...and then the bastard just swooped down on me like a God damn DRACULA BAT! And he was THIS CLOSE to my face, tryin' to rip my head off or somethin'. So I hit him with my guitar and jumped off the Delaware bridge to escape. Now we're the best dang friends in the WORLD."
