With up to six films to see in a single day at SIFF, you probably think you're watching as many movies as is humanly possible. But you haven't yet exploited those precious minutes you spend staring off into space or chatting or reading or otherwise wasting time in line. Luckily, the video iPod allows the truly committed cinephile to create his or her own festival sidebar. And the internet offers plenty of suitably eclectic and refined movies for your personal programming. Death to dead time!

If you're hip to the Nouvelle Vague, snag some Scopitones from www.scopitones.com. The Scopitone was a "movie jukebox" invented in France in the early 1960s, which played proto-music videos on loops of 16-mm film. Especially popular with ye-ye girls like Françoise Hardy, the Scopitone was the MTV of its day, positioning up-and-coming French directors like Claude Lelouch for the big time. The best is George De Giafferi's Sado-Maso, a wacky French take on bondage: "Man: Eat this spider! Woman: Okay, but that's the last one. Man: It's time for you to get whipped! Woman: Oh great, I love that! Man: Now burn my chest! Woman: With what, my love? Man: Use your cigarette! Woman: It smells like grilled pork!" It's the euro-pop equivalent of Pat Boone's "In a Metal Mood."

If you like kitsch, browse the thousands of "ephemeral films" in the A/V Geeks Film Archive and Prelinger Archives at www.archives.org. Educational, industrial, and amateur films like Sudden Birth, Drugs Are Like That, VD Is for Everybody, Duck and Cover, and Shake Hands with Danger provide a unique glimpse of workaday life in post-war America. And they're pretty damn funny, too. What's more, every film is in the public domain, so you can remix a collage of your own with no fear of Uncle Sam breathing down your neck.

If you're a history buff, don't miss the Library of Congress Edison Paper Print Film Collection at http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/index.html. Until 1912, the only way to copyright a film was to file a print of the entire film on a paper roll. While most early films were eventually destroyed, the paper prints remained on file at the Library of Congress. Eventually, the Library turned those paper rolls back into films, preserving these fascinating documents of the Mauve Decade, including Edison's early experiments with synchronized sound. If you can't shout fire in a crowded theater, at least you can watch The Buffalo Fire Department in Action or Annie Oakley firing away. With 341 films to choose from, you can put a Kinetoscope in your pocket. As a bonus, the Origins of American Animation collection offers 23 early animated shorts, including Krazy Kat and Gertie the Dinosaur.

If you dig the avant-garde, get your daily fix of Jonas Mekas's 365 Films Series at www.jonasmekas.com. The godfather of avant-garde cinema since the 1950s, Mekas has shown films at Anthology Film Archives, distributed films from the Film-Makers' Cooperative, and written about films in the Village Voice, all while making his own poignantly lyrical diary films. Now, at 85, the Lithuanian poet and filmmaker has tackled the digital age. On January 1, 2007, he began posting one short film a day intended for the iPod. It's a peculiarly appropriate medium for Mekas's intensely nostalgic style. The 365 Films Series uses internet video as a unique artistic medium, not merely a means of content delivery, and its small size and crude quality actually complement Mekas's signature staccato style. Some of the films feature long-lost friends like George Maciunas, Andy Warhol, and John Lennon, while others feature notables like Patti Smith, Susan Sontag, and Ken Jacobs. All are free the day Mekas posts them, and $1.99 afterward.

And if you're jonesing for even more of the highbrow stuff, check out the film and video collection at www.ubu.com. From Vito Acconci to Maya Deren to Richard Kern to Jack Smith to David Wojnarowicz, it offers an alphabet soup of fine art films. For a touch of irony, download On the Passage of a few People through a Rather Brief Moment in Time: The Situationist International 1956–1972 and participate in some vicarious detournement. Or alternatively, you could talk about film with the person standing behind you in line.