i am scam machine

I am Sam Marine and I'm an independent filmmaker. This is my blog. For my film work, see www.millenniumblonde.com

[scammachine]

The pain of losing someone

The pain of losing someone  isn’t like the pain of being dumped - a self-indulgent heartbreak, full of significance, full of fire, a desire to transcend, to avenge, with a hot will and hot tears It is a dull ache, a bland reality, an anger lacking direction, devoid of meaning, destitute, a void where there once was a person, a heavy weight on the shoulders and neck, a buoyed emptiness, a constant nagging feeling that something is missing, that something has been misplaced, that one is forgetting something, that something is wrong

[scammachine]

this has always been my favorite frankenstein quote, and now it’s truer than ever

During my youthful days discontent never visited my mind, and if I was ever overcome by ennui, the sight of what is beautiful in nature or the study of what is excellent and sublime in the productions of man could always interest my heart and communicate elasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what I shall soon cease to be—a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others and intolerable to myself.

[scammachine]

the formative years

When I think back, there was one specific time and place in my life that I believe had the greatest effect on who I am today: 1992-1993, Franklin, ME.

I spent my first five years in New Jersey living comfortably - lots of neighbors, lots of toys, lots of attention - until my dad lost his well-paying job due to cutbacks. That was the last time I saw anyone in my family with a well-paying job (until I landed one myself in my 20s, which I’ve subsequently lost--and so it goes). My parents claim they made the decision to pack up and head to Maine based on my mother’s parents moving there, granted much higher up near Canada than we were willing to go. My grandparents lived (and still live) in a beautiful house on a rocky coast, and when you visit in the late summer/early fall there is nowhere more majestic to behold.

But then there's the winter.

We relocated to Maine during a terrible snowstorm, and during the drive my parents’ cars got separated on the highway. For a brief moment, my father saw my mother’s car nearly collide with an oil truck. Then he saw nothing. There were no cell phones, there was no way to know what had happened to her. We went to a gas station and waited anxiously. It was the first time I saw fear in my father’s face. Eventually, my mother and brother appeared, and with them came a flood of relief, and love, but also an ominous feeling that perhaps this move had been a mistake.

That first house we occupied in Maine seemed to be in the absolute middle of nowhere, and it occupies a similar territory in my brain; I have few memories of anything at all occurring during that time. There were no neighborhood kids, there wasn’t even a backyard to play in - my parents warned us about “quicksand,” which prevented us from venturing very far. I watched a lot TV. For reasons I still don’t know, we were evicted from that house within a year, and left with nowhere to go. Suddenly, just like that, we were homeless. 

We were saved by a Baptist pastor in Franklin, who lent us an old house on the church’s property to stay in until we found our feet. The house was ugly, drafty, full of spiders. My mom took me to service on Sundays and that was boring and strange to me. There was nothing much to do and I really only remember having one close friend - a kindly Baptist girl my age who would invite me over for tea and watercress sandwiches. But there were three aspects of this time that I look upon now as hugely important to my development:

1) Respect for food. For the first time I looked at my surroundings and realized I was poor. My parents hammered this into my head especially at meal times - I couldn’t leave until my plate was clean, the emphasis being placed on the fact that we couldn’t afford much food. My parents were always worried about this, and so I ate. I ate to avoid waste, I ate out of guilt, I ate out of appreciation for what I had. The meals were cheap but hearty, and to this day, no matter what, I have trouble leaving a scrap of food left behind. The same feelings pervade my senses during every meal, big or small--someone worked hard for this food, maybe even you, and that fact should never be taken for granted or carelessly swiped into the trash.

2) Gratitude for small things. It was December, the month of my birth, and one day walking through a department store I saw a stuffed poodle and immediately fell in love. I asked my mother if I could have it for my birthday, and although the toy couldn’t have cost very much, I still saw the anxiety in her face. She said no, but maybe Santa would get it for me for Christmas if I was good, and that was the end of the conversation. I didn’t forget about the poodle, but I didn’t expect it, either. My birthday came and went, poodle-less. I was disappointed, but I understood my parents’ situation, and gradually accepted the idea that the world didn’t owe me this poodle just because I wanted it. And yet by some miracle, on Christmas morning, what should be the first thing I see smiling at me from under the tree? That same poodle, with its red velvet hat, and my mother’s face beaming at me. I beamed back knowingly: Santa had come through. I kept that poodle by my side for a long time. Before then I had many toys, but none ever meant so much to me.

3) Creativity from isolation. The hardest pill to swallow about the move was being told on the first day that there would be no more cable for awhile, and I’d better learn to entertain myself. I was lonely without other kids around - my brother could only provide so much companionship - and on that first day as my parents unpacked, I angrily took my coloring books up to my dark, stupid bedroom. I opened them and began to draw. Soon after, I forgot about TV, except at 7 o’clock when we all sat down as a family to watch Wheel of Fortune. Art became a passion, one I inherited from my mother; it was something I could do any time, make anywhere, and I was good at it. For my birthday that year, we couldn’t afford the Chuck E. Cheese or Discovery Zone party that other kids were having; instead, my mom invited four of my friends over for arts and crafts. At first I was embarrassed as she laid out the ribbon, glitter, colored paper and sequins, but we soon forgot our disappointment as she made each of us a paper doll, elegantly hand-drawn and personalized, and then had us decorate them and make them clothes. I remember that birthday better than any other. It taught me two things: that sometimes earning your entertainment is more satisfying than having it handed to you, and no matter your situation you can always make something out of nothing. 

I was seven years old and during this time I discovered that no matter what happened I had my family, and when you lose it all and that’s all that’s left, you’re still left with quite a lot. 

[scammachine]

musings on a winter walk

an icicle 15-feet long clings to the side of our house. it shows no signs of going anywhere - there's nowhere for it to go. what does an icicle dream of becoming? a puddle,  a rain drop,  a cloud? maybe it's happy just being what it is. i don't know because i'm not an icicle.

*

i go on these walks whenever i'm home to visit, making sure to bring no phone, no music, no distractions. this enables me not only to disconnect from the social media world (of which I am eager to return to after an hour-long vacation), but also to reconnect with my senses, to tune into the living, breathing world around me. 

immediately i am annoyed to find a neighbor shoveling the driveway and forcing me away from my preferred path - for this is no ordinary neighbor, but a long-lost friend, one who i haven't spoken to (in person) in almost five years. in fact the only correspondence we've had in that time was a facebook message, three years ago, in which i regretfully informed her (in as few words as possible) that, no, reconciliation was of no interest to me. a lot of people thought me pretty cold for that.

*

i go a way i don't particularly care for. everything is flat, the houses are peppered with american flags and mailboxes that say "god bless you" - i can't imagine knowing any of these people. i grew up among them and i have no idea who they are.

*

the most pleasant thing about these walks is how clean everything is in comparison to the city. here, a discarded coke can in a bed of ice looks like art. 

*

when i was here in november, by this little stream, and it was snowing just the same as it is now, the branches of the trees were encased in ice, gleaming lucite treasures, elegantly pock-marked by swollen red buds like some kind of pubescent debutante. 

now, there's nothing to hold your gaze. the view is bland, bland as the calendar views for january and february are always depicted to be, and now i know why.

*

there are no dreamers here, no motion or movement, there's nothing flatter than that which is long dead and buried.

*

senses engaged!

stalagtite patterns on unshoveled lawns,

the faraway smell of a wood-burning stove,

the taste of a snowflake (flavorless, the word "wintermint" comes to mind),

the slip-slop sounds of my doc martens in the slush, and the comical movement of the mush exploding around my soles.

after awhile one learns to appreciate the subtleties in this still life, like finding movement in the rough-hewn strokes of an impressionist's landscape.

*

a group of teen boys tell me they're sorry for almost hitting me with their car. they say they didn't see me. i suspect because they weren't looking, i suspect because they wouldn't assume anyone would be out walking in this shitty weather. there are no hard feelings, but my thoughts are permanently displaced.

*

it occurs to me that this may be one of the last times i'll walk this route in winter, since the bank took our house and my family will soon move. i am therefore determined to take the path i like most, to look out on the neighborhood from up high, to look out on all the houses and their snow-covered roofs. 

with racing heart, i pass by my former friend's house. to my relief i realize it's not her making noise in the driveway but only her brother, the racist cop (such a cliche, as if the world needed another one), who takes no notice of me. 

the view of the houses is as good as it's always been.

maybe a little less so this time.

*

only when my knees are weak and i can no longer feel my cheeks do i return home to blow my nose and, over a microwaved cup of coffee, reflect on what i've seen.

[scammachine]

photobooth pictures: 2012

new year, fresh cut, bad attitude

last night’s rager: A+

blue streak (courtesy lisa maria hall)

the barista @ le pain quotidien (regularly) gave me free coffee and (one day) a wizard cat hoodie before asking me out (i turned him down) and then breaking his leg (he stopped working there and i had to pay for coffee again). i ran into him only once after that, skateboarding in the east village. he was very good.

x-ray art i bought off a guy on the L train that i accidentally left hanging in the window of a previous apartment

salad days

dolled up

another awesome gift bag from pen pal agentjanefox

she wore feathers in her hair (from a gift shop in the denver airport)

pierced ears, again

[scammachine]

best cab ride.

sam & mike, drunk. cab driver, friendly, navigating without help (a miracle in itself, particularly when being shuttled from brooklyn to ridgewood, a black hole in cab driver knowledge), puts on some sweet tunes. after awhile, sam: "hey, this is tame impala. do you like mac demarco?" driver: "oh man i'm obsessed with that dude right now. let's put it on!" sam & mike: "yeah!" all 3 bop their heads as they sing along (two of them drunkenly, one of them presumably sober) until their destination has been reached.

-fin.-

the preceding events are based on a true story. no names have been changed to protect those actually involved, including mac demarco's. maybe he would have preferred it that way, but it's impossible to tell.

[scammachine]

my heart and i agree

you don't have to be weird to be wired you don't have to be an american brand you don't have to be strange to be strange you don't have to be weird to be weird but i'm totally wired

[scammachine]

photobooth pictures: 2011

first ever selfie

acquired a shit-ton of moldy records which i later gave up

i woke up like this

a rare moment of absolute contentment

a birthday gift from alex

a care package from pen pal gianna

cold as ice after a break up

cassavetes keeping me warm at night

christmas cheer with brother trevor

that's the spirit / purchase mafia

[scammachine]

reflections on 6 aspects of my life in 2014:

-2014 was my poorest year yet, since the fall of 2009 when i lost my job and moved back home with my parents.

-2014 marked the one year anniversary of mike & i living together, and the two year anniversary of us being an official couple. although i can feel my passion for this city beginning to wane, i love our comfy home in ridgewood, with our cat marbles and mike’s best friend living in the apartment above us. never thought i’d end up a queens girl, though.

-in 2014 my dad found out he had malignant cancer - i got that phone call nobody wants to get, the one that starts with “you might want to sit down for this” - and in the same year, he beat it. after surgery and radiation treatment he is, as of now, cancer-free.

-2014 held only one vacation for me, if you can even call it that. my brother and i spent a week in sarasota, florida painting a gigantic house for some family friends. it turns out that painting a house like a rainbow - a different color in every room, and a different color on every wall - is a SHIT TON of work. while i was halfway through sponging the living room golden-rod yellow, my kickstarter met its goal of $10,000.

-in 2014 i faced my biggest challenge yet: making my first feature film. in january i was the most depressed i had been in a very long time. i felt lost and creatively unsatisfied. mike and i decided to try to write a script together to curb the winter blues. it came together so easily and was so enjoyable we then resolved to push ourselves and shoot it. within a few months we did several rewrites, raised money, cashed in what little savings we had, and by the late summer we were in the catskills shooting the mother fucker. as of new year’s day 2015, we have a completed rough cut of MAN UNDERGROUND, and i couldn’t be happier.

-lastly, in 2014 i failed at my new year’s resolution of learning guitar. however, my resolution of 2013 - to how learn to swim - unexpectedly came in handy. while working as the production supervisor for THE ADK, a feature film directed by shoja azari, i was canoeing with some of the crew on lake champlain. somehow the canoe tipped over and as I clung to the side of the upside down boat, watching everyone swim to shore, i thought to myself, “holy shit, this is it. this is how it ends for me. how fucking stupid.” panicking, i was shouting to the shore, “hey! help! i can’t swim!” until someone yelled back, “you ARE swimming! keep doing it!” my worst nightmare had come true - falling into a freezing cold lake in my winter jacket and sneakers - and i’d survived.

looking back, i’d call 2014 a year of survival, and for 2015 i’d like to play some offense.

[scammachine]

ADK

23 nights! 22 sunrises! 23 nights of campfires, the stars circling overheard, shooting, cris-crossing, shooting at coyotes, shivering in the cold, there's warmth by the hog, but then shooting at the hog, the hog decomposing, the smoke and steam, the spiders and skunks, the ride of the valkyries, no running, no running, no running! 22 sunrises over lake champlain, canoe rides through the stillness, the fog you could cut with a knife, the knife you'd wield to cut through a beer can, the shotgunning, the moonshine, the cigarettes, the singing, the dancing, the swimming and the falling in, the fireplace, the fucking fireplace cats, dropping a knee, taking a picture, trying to preserve something, and there's honking overhead now, the geese going two different ways, two different directions, where to go from here, nobody knows, not even doze geese doe! ADK: the sights, the sounds, the smells (hluuuuuh)! #cheftodd #keystonelight

[scammachine]

Hi guys, it’s me, Sam. I’m trying to make a movie, and with your help, I might succeed.

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/sammarine/man-underground-a-feature-film-by-sam-and-mike

The film follows Willem Koda, a lonely, misunderstood man in a small town who has devoted his life to convincing people of The Truth: that for decades, the US government has been harboring aliens in underground facilities for technological advancement, a fact Willem knows from a violent firsthand encounter as a former geologist. Nobody believes him, until he makes two friends - Flossie, a waitress at the local diner, who secretly dreams of becoming an actress, and Todd, a slacker videographer who lives off his uncle's inheritance after he died of a sudden, mysterious brain tumor. Together they decide to make a movie about Willem's experiences to help promote his message, and to kill time in their otherwise unfulfilling lives.

MAN UNDERGROUND was co-written and will be co-directed by myself and Michael Borowiec. Filming will begin in August 2014 in the town of Durham, NY in the heart of the Catskills mountains. Our talented Director of Photography is Maximilian Lewin, and we'll be shooting on the RED Scarlet X, with additional footage on VHS for authenticity, and possibly 16mm film for the movie-within-the-movie depending on the outcome of our crowd-funding efforts. Please help us make our goal by donating to the Kickstarter or helping promote it! We're getting there little by little but still a long way off...

Love, Sam

[scammachine]

pound puppiez

last night i had a dream "i know what you did last summer"-style, in which i found myself trapped with 10 of my friends in an older man's house, each forced to wear different colored shirts, as we played a game called pound puppiez.

the rules of the game were thus: 2 people would pair off and the man would ask them a trivia question. the first person to answer correctly would live; the other person would be taken outside and shot like a dog. this would continue until there was one person left.

if anyone at any moment disappeared from the group (ie tried to sneak off and find an escape), everyone would be killed.

i had a feeling that my fate was going to be sealed sooner than later, as our captor seemed to be getting along particularly well with a few of my friends. then i overheard him say, "i mean if you went to the pound, and had the choice between a black or brown puppy, and a boring gray one, what would you choose?" i looked down and saw that i was wearing the gray shirt.

to demonstrate the game in action, he paired himself off with a young man and asked him a trivia question. the kid was unable to answer, so it was announced he would be taken out and shot - just as soon as the man fetched his gun from the other room.

the second out he was out of the room, i grabbed the kid and ran as fast as i could out of the house.

immediately, everyone left inside began desperately screaming "NO!" as i was, in some ways, putting their lives in jeopardy. the kid and i had trouble knowing where the hell to go because we were in unfamiliar territory. i said repeatedly, "as long as we get to a neighbor's house we'll be fine," and soon enough we made it to the neighbor's yard. we began climbing up a trellis, hoping to get to the other side and be hidden from view.

the man appeared and pointed his gun right at us. at that moment, the neighbors emerged from the house. the kid and i screamed, "he's trying to kill us!" and instantly they tried to get back inside, but the man opened fire on them before they had a chance, and then turned his gun on us again...

...but the trellis suddenly collapsed, and we disappeared from sight.

[mvgl]

[scammachine]

some big things are happening over at my twitter you guys

[scammachine]

Here's the second music video I've co-directed & co-edited with my boi Michael C. Borowiec. The song is "Golden Hour" by Charlie Phillips and I'm very proud with how it turned out. THE EXPERIENCE: -late, late nights -early, early mornings (plus sunrise location scouts) -long drives out to farms -test-riding dirt bikes -excavating thrift stores all over Schenectady for cheap-as-shit furniture -testing out air mattresses on water (they float well, turns out) -busted-ass fog machines -genuine fire department on hand -gaffing for the first time since film school after having to send the crew home -shooting in a creek in the middle of the woods without a permit at 4am, blasting generators and lights, during which a PA runs down to tell us "They're here. The police are here," scrambling to pack up without shitting ourselves, only to find out that the visitors were actually just teens getting high, and thankfully getting to finish the shoot -and best of all, a lot of lovely drives in the fall through upstate NY with some of my best friends. Enjoy!

[scammachine]

If you haven't seen it by now, please check out my music video directorial debut, BREAKERS by Ace & The Mighty Gan. It might be cold outside but baby this shit is h-o-t.

[scammachine]

And here we have something else I worked on that's finally ready for the world to glimpse. I associate produced this feature film entitled PAST PRESENT FUTURE a few summers ago. It's a heartfelt movie made by and starring plenty of SUNY Purchase alum, including Rachel Browne of the band Field Mouse, Steve Levine of the comedy group Captain Hippo, and Bob Gosse, original founder of The Shooting Gallery. The film was written and directed by Andrew Gitomer, who is currently trying to get another project off the ground, PRETTY GIRLS, which you can see more about here.