DISPATCH FROM THE CUBICLE OF ICARUS ODDFELLOW // NO. 004 - ODDFELLOW - A Media Production Company
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March 17, 2021 In BLOG

DISPATCH FROM THE CUBICLE OF ICARUS ODDFELLOW // NO. 004

Oddfellow here.  Still quarantined at the office.  As a member of the “Gen Z,” (middle part, 4eva), a former marathoner, and an employee in the entertainment industry (though my direct deposit from T+F stopped showing up months ago), it seems the likelihood of getting vaccinated anytime soon is immeasurably low.  Since Uncle Jared appears to have abandoned the company, I’ve broken into the high ABV kombucha and am ransacking the office for survival materials.  Up until now, I had been rationing the giant milk carton of Goldfish crackers I found inside a box labeled “STOLEN FROM CRAFTY” but that ran out yesterday.  I think I may have lost some weight as my Dockers don’t stay up anymore and I’ve resorted to wearing a pair of stiff warm up pants I found in another box labeled “STOLEN FROM WARDROBE DEPT. – THE FOURTH SHORT FILM.”  Luckily, someone is still paying the internet bill because these posts are my only connection to the outside world.  Speaking of which, during my ransacking, I came across another box – a cigar box – tucked away in a closet behind a bunch of old merch that was supposed to be used for an ill-fated T+F Etsy store.  Inside was a bunch of DV and Hi8 tapes.  It appears to be more of Uncle Jared’s early attempts at filmmaking.  Trigger warning:  this stuff is rough.  Not, like, challenging-rough…I’m talking rough-rough.  Like, BAD.  (And this is coming from someone who only last year made a dramatic reenactment film about life and loves of Grumpy Cat).  But…gotta say…having now watched them all several times (I’m stranded here, remember?!) there is something you just can’t put your finger on.  Perhaps it’s the overt Godard references?  Or maybe it’s the disregard to simple camera fundamentals (like cleaning the lens)?  Like I said, dunno, but SOMETHING in them sticks with me.  Probably just the soundtrack, TBH.

In any case, here’s THE COPYIST, a fable about art nihilism and eating dead cats.  I now know what Uncle Jared’s Gmail means…