THE SHORTEST DAY OF THE YEAR – A Tweed Typewriter Short

The third week of December puts the squeeze on daylight. That doesn’t mean it’s all doom and gloom. Learn why in this Tweed Typewriter Production, which brings to life the story of the winter solstice. Turns out that from the shed to the sky, a little bit of sun can go a long way in making it a singular day on the calendar.

Written, illustrated and edited by Paul Camarata, featuring narration by Mr. Charles.

For more words and pictures like this check out the other Tweed Typewriter Shorts on this site, and:

Instagram: tweed_typewriter

Twitter: @TweedTypewriter

 

PLAY CLOCK – A Tweed Typewriter Short

 

The rhythm and hum of pigskin season is at the heart of this short film, exploring the wondrous life cycle of football. PLAY CLOCK features narration by Charlie, music by iMovie, and is written, directed and edited by Paul Camarata.

For more Tweed Typewriter Shorts like this, click here.

JOHNNY CORKFORBRAINS LOST HIS CUP OF TEA! 3.0 – A Tweed Typewriter Short

The migration of this Johnny Corkforbrains story continues – from its original form as a word doodle, to a hand drawn Steller Story, to here now as a short film. Includes my new adventures in sound design and music production – truly a homeMADE movie.

oN transformatioN

Never forget the fella

who sits after M, before O,

without him, my friend, you’d be fried,

all things nice would feel like ice: cold.

Happy sand would be sad,

every band would be bad,

and bananas, like sheep, 

simply baaa.

So respect that letter,

just one past halfway,

who keeps windows from being widows,

everywhere, everyday.

ARM CONFLICT

A new snow-ski Vest
I got from my mom
I’ve heard nice things about it
Except from my arms.

“We just bet,” they both say,
“That thing is the best,
If you’re a belly,
A back or a chest,

“Sealed in from the chill
Inside puffy armor,
Not two nude kazoos in
Full vibrato arm-brrrr.

“While you think it’s real smart
a ‘lightweight sleeveless jacket,’
we brothers-in-arms say:
Vests are a racket!”

“I guess,” said the Vest,
“About as much as gloves,
And long johns, wool socks and
Those things ears call ‘Muffs.’

“Pipe down out there, Arms,
Save your noise for the beach.
The value of vests
Seems well past your reach.”

When my snow-ski vest’s on now,
My Arms roll their eyes,
The chips on their shoulders
Big and undisguised.

All they talk about’s summer
And how it’s the best.
Wonder how they’ll like
My new water-ski vest.