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Z Berg - TIME FLIES

Director - Z Berg Director of Photography/Editor - Tyler Bradberry 1st AC - Ryan Aylsworth Produced by - Z Berg, Kansas Bowling, Mickey Madden Location provided by James Valentine Cast - Z Berg, Joseph Keefe, Mike Runion, Mickey Madden, Ryan Ross, Dan Keyes, Langley Fox, Lauren Rothery, Vincent Perini, Christina Schroeter, Adelaide Crocker, Vanessa Jeanne Long, Marko Kurtovich, Jalal Poehlman, Katrina Reynolds, Brady Richards, Vanduncan Phillips, Lexi Stellwood, Stephanie Moore, Cherokee Neas, Austin Tirado, Nick Hinman, Eddie Mitsou, Ariel Beesley, Cary Berg, Kansas Bowling, Parker Love Bowling, Angel O'Connor, Brady Richards, Lily Noyes, Sophia Ventrone, Nicole Smith, Sawyer Key, Michelle Hardy, Brent L. Smith, Roxanne G. C. Brooks, Dylan Lusetich, Amir Jones EI, Brissa Monique Castellon, Joan Apperson, Tatiana Tovar, Shane Carpenter, Charlotte Leddy, Sophie Lubka, Galen Howard, Craig J. McIntyre, Aubry Bratcher, Jojo Sepulveda LABEL - METROPOLITAN INDIAN Once we lived in a house made of glass... Strangers live there now, but for a decade it was a house you could visit almost any evening--as droves of delinquent youngsters often did--and find us there, making the night longer just by wishing it so. When I moved into the glass house I used to think I had all the answers. Now I only have more questions. The glass house was a large petri dish in which we could test out our theories. How could we make our own little world within a world and pretend that this was how things were everywhere? When the sun went down, the glass turned black, bending slightly with the sway of trees and illuminated by the sparkle of distant lights. One could almost believe this was the real world. But the next day the sun always came back up, the walls were once again transparent, and that sea of red solo cups and party carnage was no longer beautiful as it was in the dark. As you looked at the morning’s rays of light fighting their way through the dirty dust in the air, what was left? Forgotten songs, echoes of life-changing meetings of the minds, hula hoop competitions that no one ever won because we all got so damn good. It was dangerous to throw parties in a glass house; you may have gotten old in the blink of an eye. Why did we throw these parties at all? To celebrate or to revolt? In fear or in defiance? Our parties were doomsday celebrations. With the world ending we figured, “why not make it end faster?” Those nights of and mornings after are what “Time Flies” is about; a savage light lurking in the shadows. We may celebrate, we may evade, we may hide from the world, but it is always there in the morning. And the more we hide from it, the more blinding it becomes.