Donn Weber

Writes, draws, films, and such things.

[donnweber]

Short films may require trailers.

[donnweber]

It has been so very long since posting... did a thing! 48 Hour Film Fest Project last weekend! Stuck At Home Challenge, titled (as you can probably tell :I) The Hitchhiker’s Guide for a Dream, a trailer mashup challenge of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy & Requiem for a Dream.

I hope you enjoy!

[donnweber]

Sega Dreamcast at 20: the futuristic games console that came too soon

In 1998, the Sega Dreamcast changed the whole face of console and games design, but it was haunted by an unbeatable competitor

I will forever back Sega Dreamcast as the most progressive system (to present day). Nice to see some recognition for Sega!

[donnweber]

‘SpongeBob Squarepants’ Creator Stephen Hillenburg Dies at 57

Stephen Hillenburg, the creator of the megahit Nickelodeon cartoon series “SpongeBob SquarePants,” died on Monday. He was 57. The cause of death was ALS, which Hillenburg revealed he ha…

Stephen Hillenburg was a creator, an innovator, an animator, and a marine biologist. As I found myself re-entering the dream world of writing, directing, and producing animations and films, I looked for an example of someone past their college years attempting the run at such an excursion. Hillenburg, was in every way, exactly that!

The prime example of always being able to succeed at your dreams and goals, and never letting your visions close, he was truly prolific. Hillenburg left a marine biologist job to go to CalArts and study animation. He landed on Rocko’s Modern Life and helped grow the show into a hit. Then he moved on to pursue his own show idea of a Sponge living in the ocean with his friends. Spongebob was and is an Nicktoons empire.

[donnweber]

Symbolic

What is symbolic, Is it melancholic? Or is it substantial? Which is really circumstantial.

Maybe I’m overthinking, watching my mind sinking, as if so numbing in who I’m becoming.

It’s definitely falling, like pedals snowballing. Because of this world’s cold or maybe its to behold.

Do pedals exude snow? I thought I should know. Maybe they gingerly slip. Waiting return to fellowship.

In which they do on annual cycle. Much like those who recycle, in a world so bucolic. Which I guess, is symbolic?

[donnweber]

There.

Watch me lie here, Wondering if I die here. Wishing this world was clear. Wishing these goals were near.

If God’s calling, I can’t hear. Leaning back in fear. Feeling like a motionless deer. Will someone just help me steer?

Someone watch front and rear. No one is bringing their cheer. It is only me there is no we’re. My eyes wince and discretely tear.

Softly in the distance I leer. Alone on the ground, that’s sincere. No map, compass, or gear. No sense of direction, I peer.

Aimless confusion, can I veer? With no objective I open my ear. In the distance, can I see her? A cry for help, I go there.

[donnweber]

Tiny souls.

Tiny souls

You and I.

In endless shadows

We do or die.

The sun peers out

We wonder why.

Light over world

We fight the high.

Such long introversion

Time that we fly.

Reluctance ends accord

We release final sigh.

The sun glistens over,

And catches our eye.

[donnweber]

My first short film. Inspired off a poem that I had written back in 2007, I spent a solid December-January of ‘08 banging out a 2:50 minute stop motion for this tale. One year later while doing some editing and research on lesser known film festivals, my apartment was broken into and all copies of this work taken with it.

Finally in 2014 I completed this version, having new financing and space to work on it. Not sure how this nugget didn’t get posted before, but enjoy!

[donnweber]

Softly spoken, Subtle pain to cease

Softly spoken, Nothing but a dream. My undivided attention. My mind gazes at the seam

of time and trials, of all things true. When I am lost in these shadows, it helps to think of you.

I continue my day, over driven, over pride. Slowly falling, lost again, I take to leisurely ride

where my mind always wanders, things seem so misplaced, yet the refreshing thoughts of your eyes make me placed.

Those quiet whispers, that glistening glare. When the sun’s in my eyes and all you do is stare.

In dark times, in light. Heavy or at peace. You’ve always helped subtle pain to cease.

[donnweber]

Little World, Big Skies

Such Big Skies, for such a Little World. We spend forever gazing, at such crisis below. Walking without our eyes, the hair on our backs curled. Like sheep we may be grazing, acting like we know.

Then in peace we look up, our eyes become widened around. Revelation of the beauty above, acknowledging the world in disguise. An epiphany we awake to this buildup, our minds and bodies are bound. In these moments we reveal there is love. Such a Little World, Such Big Skies.

[donnweber]

Then Nothing to Say

The sky glistens, stars remain true, endlessly our minds wander, who are you? Nothing more than faint thoughts that we think, never knowing the answers yet on the brink. But in time those thoughts travel yonder. Only on rare occasions do we ponder. Those now nostalgic memories from what we once thought. Stemming from dreams who we were but are not. Those thoughts race away, and our eyes walk elsewhere. You go yours, me mine, yet neither of us care.

These are the boundless journeys we’ll now have in life. Only seeking the things we don’t know but if rife. Reflections in the stars, none of them ours. That’s what makes them beautiful, like other people’s flowers. Days become weeks, weeks to months, then years. No more anger, no strife, I no longer have tears. The raw emotions are gone, nothing remains same. My outlandish personalities not even to tame. Then I see you, on pedestal, on display. Our mutual respect, only acknowledgement nothing to say.

[donnweber]

Just a little boredom in motion.

[master-painters]

Jaroslav Šetelík 

[donnweber]

These are absolutely stunning

[donnweber]

[donnweber]

A goal without a plan is just a wish.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

[donnweber]

Endless Wander (v. 1)

Endless wander, you treat me so true; Through highlights of sunset and melancholy blues.

The curious things, the curious why. No explanations, but I cannot deny

that these creative endeavors, these things that I do, make me feel wonders, they make me feel true.

The writing and drawing, painting and portrait. It lets me move past, my stagnate corporate.

Endless wander, return to always. I’ll write you a poem and you show me the next phase.

[donnweber]

Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.

Langston Hughes, “Dreams”