An extract from my current film "7 Mondays"

Photographs for Semester 2 Film

Trial by Stone

I recall a child once comparing me to a skeksi. What a bastard.

Racism in the Elevator - Alternate Version - **HD**

Dear oh dear...

Family Guy - Peter Watches The Ring ( Original )

I love this so very much

T.V. has ruined my brain

It started to rain at a quarter to two,
when the children both cried,
"We've got nothing to do"

They played their kerplunkers,
and spun their spindaddies,
why, they even found mother's vibratoraties.

When suddenly there came at knock at the door,
the boy nudged his sister,
"Go get it ya whore"

She rose from her seat,
and walked towards the noise,
"Who could it be?"
She hoped it was boys.

But what entered the house, 
through the fog oh so thick,
was a cat in a hat,
with an enormous dick.

He sang a short song,
and played a few toots,
when all of a sudden he noticed poor Boots.

The boy searched around for a pen and a pad,
"This guy's a pro, much better than dad"

But before the two children could learn a new trade,
the cat pushed them outside,
"I'm trying to get laid!"

So with no where to go,
but over the hill,
the children set off for the town Whoreville.

They passed a few vagrants,
a hooker, a corpse,
trying their best not to vomit of course.

Though it got pretty hard as the passed by a can,
where a man tried to shit out some blue eggs and spam.

Finally they arrived at their mum's place of work,
as a jolly old man walked out with a smirk.

It was Itchy MacGrey,
who was there everyday,
and though his doctor sure pleaded,
he could not stay away.

He had caught whore diseases,
he had picked at whore scabs,
why he even picked up a case of whore crabs!

But all of a sudden,
he started to run,
because the children's drunk father showed up with a gun!

He was mean,
he was mad,
and he was seven feet tall,
but the bulge in his trousers was two size too small.

Which may have explained why he went on a spree,
of shooting the whores as they started to flee.

"One bitch, two bitch, old bitch, new bitch"
he said with a laugh as their bodies did twitch.

He stared at his wife,
as he squeezed on his glock,
"I know it's your job, but why did you hop on my Pop?"

"We needed the cash" she said through her tears,
"And besides you haven't touched me in years!"

"But I've got just the thing" she knew just what to do,
"Let's go home right now and make three kids not two!"

And so the kids' father got his own way, 
and the bulge in his trousers grew three sizes that day!

And the low income family began life anew,
at least 'til next month,
when the rent would be due...

Lost.

Just a random test from a few years ago

The Trouble With Elephants

Jack Fall.mov

Leg Break Test.mov

End.

An Ode to the Irreplaceable Leaves of Space and Time

 I never thought it was possible to die from boredom, until April 4th 2004, where I almost did. By far one of the more deflating days in my life, however not depressing at all. More like an ice cream in the sun, slowly melting away into a dairy lake on a hot summer's day...

It makes you realise how funny these moments are, and that the serious things you should be worrying about, are actually not worth worrying about at all, but more there to preoccupy the mind before it begins to rot and fall away. I try not to think anymore, because thinking logically only makes things more disorderly, as if your mind has wandered into a cataclysmic jumble sale of nail bombs, and rather rapidly become one with the coats of paint.

At first, I tried to figure out where it all went wrong. That's where it went wrong. By thinking I was wrong and trying to discover when exactly the moment was that it had all gone wrong, I immediately became wrong. What I should have been looking for was the moment it all started going right. However, due to my short sight, I couldn't see as far as I wanted, and so realised that my idea was in fact now wrong. I would like to point out wrong in more of an academic context rather than a moral one, mainly because you need to find your morals before you can figure out what they are. I once asked someone to go buy me some from the shop and they came back with cigarettes instead. Maybe that's where my morals lie I wonder?

I started to explore my confusion over right and wrong, and very quickly found I would have to view it in the third person, because the first person was always wrong, and as far as I'm aware really wasn't right for the initial job of the first person in the first place. So I became more detached from my emotions and tried to desensitize myself, like a mental verruca or wart, and hoped in time they too would fall off naturally. I realised that scratching these would only uncover what was underneath, causing mild irritation and pain, and would then ultimately leave a scar, a big ugly scar for all to see. They say they don't notice, but they do, and they point, and find it a good source of self esteem, I dread to think what I'd get if I asked for that from the shop.

I can't figure out if I'm happy because of misery, or if misery makes me happy. Although I can't figure out if this is misery, or if this is happiness. There doesn't seem to be much in it. I see love as a cover up for hate, and hate as a cover up for love, like perfect alibi's, yet at some stage they will be found out, and be sent to an emotional prison, and live out their existence in solitary confinement, never to see the light of day again. I noticed as age increases, so does the bitterness levels in one's system. I'm pretty sure I never was bitter at one stage, but now I am starting to feel like a Coke twist, all the good flavour of the original, but with a bitter lemon twist. I don't look like a Coke twist, but then maybe all my mirrors are broken, and I'm actually wearing a man suit, and underneath I'm just a carbonated soft drink with vegetable extracts that's bad for your teeth.

I never could understand why all the good things are bad for you. I like bad things, but they're not good for me either. It seems nothing really is that good for you at all, and that we should really go back to single cell life forms so to not cause any sort of problems in the future, as really that is all we are living for. We live to be remembered in a world of tomorrow, that will inevitably spell my surname wrong, and then philosophize on whether I did indeed contribute to the world, or if I merely became a hindrance to it, stopping the natural flow of progression by walking backwards in the river of evolution, being more of an annoyance rather than a saviour.

I find it difficult to continue having my faith now, it's not like the faith we had in the old days. It was very much a case of, here is your faith, don't lose it, or there will be consequences, and for goodness sake, take your finger out of there. As age, and well, intelligence start to kick in, you would have thought you would become more responsible of such an important thing like that, some people are, and parade it around, some keep it in the wardrobe and bring it out once a week. Some, of course, lock it away for a rainy day, and some apparently are careless enough to lose it. Saying that, I'm not sure I was careless at all, I just seem to have misplaced it somewhere, possibly on that picnic bench in Bristol, either way, I don't think it's coming back. Not a problem, some would say, surely you can get a new faith. A new faith? Is there such thing? Either way, it sounds terribly bothersome, and I'm not overly sure I have the time to pursue such trivial matters, as I'm sure in the long run, there are much greater things to be concerned about.

I discovered that apparently, we are born to die. A little bit of a melancholy thought, but there is some sort of, well, truth to it. Although I would say we were not born to die, more we were born to live and then rather coincidentally die at the end, and that the sand in our hourglasses was more for building sand castles and burying people up to the neck in, not to let slip through our fingers, like some sort of sandy soup, pouring out of the thermos of life.

We do, however, work far too hard. We seem to be almost drone-like, marching to the beat of the tyrant's drum, who sits upon his throne, high up in the Ivory tower. Why do we not take a lesson from some other institution? A new master that will teach us, and give us rewards, and maybe a smile if we have earned his favour...

I would like to point out, that this is in no way a rant, or a note filled with ill feeling, but more of an opportunity for me to say things without even saying them. Well, if that really. More like some sort of expression through the medium of random sentences and vivid imagery, disjointed and with no sort of narrative, the ramblings of a disturbed owl, chewing over the vole of life, and spitting it out upon the realisation that it was actually something that looked an awful lot like it, however tasted awful.

I was never sure in the beginning how I wanted this to end, and to be honest I'm not sure I want it to end, however I have no real choice in the matter, due to the fact that everything has an end. That is a fact. The fact that the time scale of the infinite is due to go on forever, therefore making forever a something, and that something at sometime has to end, because the normal mind cannot grasp these ideas, mainly due to not having hands, and so we never can rough up forever in alley and ask, just how long are you? I of course wouldn't advise doing that to anybody in alley, because you would be surprised of the answer you get back. In some cases, not even words, but it may result in you wearing an eyepatch. The other of course may mean you have to start being careful when you sit down, because as far as I'm aware, scabs break just as easy where ever they are on the body.

I think on that note, and indeed this one, I intend to leave it there. Possibly in a tin, maybe under a weight of some sort, I'm not sure yet, it's difficult to decide. I would of course like to point out, that if you read this as crazy nonsensical drivel, then you either know me very well, or not all.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure.

Andrew J. Bower

Well, lets begin shall we...

I'm a little odd. Can't say much more than that. You either get me, or you don't. I'm an Animation student at Farnham UCA, and over the foreseeable future, I'm going to be pelting you with work, thoughts and any other thing that comes to mind...

Enjoy.