Sometimes when the disco ball is turning, I feel so at home, at peace. All sounds fade and I am watching my film unfold. Glorious slow motion characters, handsome boys smile, nightcrawlers pass on by. Hello I say, hello you say. Glowey drink glasses, speckled mirror ball romances. Afterhours time stands still at the club 'Speaking In Tongues', I channel and pick up your transmissions lullaby of clubland. Another time, another place, another day another night. It's all so wonderful, I hope it never ends, this night life lounge.
Thank you PatricKing for the recommendation of the book Gothic Transmutations of Horror in Late 2oth Century Art. Brilliant to reawaken my love of Bela Lugosi, The Bride of Frankenstein, Industrial Gothic, and more. While just a mere 100 pages into the text, the read is an intriguing, and captivating collection of essays, art and images evoking themes of the dark and pathological. More commentary to come as I delve further into this fascinating book. Also, ignoring my 'required reading' and research, I am seriously preoccupied by the scathingly funny The Lecturer's Tale by James Hynes offensive, abrasive, raw and an altogether exhilarating and fun read! Just the sort of escapist literature I need!
8:27 PM :
Friday, January 19, 2001
Watching a terrible copy of Chris Marker's 1962 classic film La Jett�e, rewind play rewind play, rewind play for a son of a loop da loop era. Dig? I Dig! Shower shave, prepare... pre midnight playlist...
Dusty Springfield/Burt Bacharach - The Look Of Love
Hooverphonic - Electroshock Faders
Mirwais - Naive Song
TV Theme from Lost in Space
Angry Samoans - Homosexual
NAS - Memory Lane
Young MC - Bust A Move
Daft Punk - One More Time
Eddie Amador - Rise (futureshock trackhead mix)
Getting close to the bewitching hour, going out for a little night fever, night fever, disco dancing without my shirt, and breaking it down in a seriously real way. All things butch and boylike. See you in the morning!
11:45 PM :
Thursday, January 18, 2001
I'm in heaven now - I can see you Richard goodbye Hollywood, goodbye Downey - hello Janis hello Dennis, Elvis - and all my brand new friends I'm so glad you're all here with me, until the very end dreaming, dreaming of how it's supposed to be but now this tunic's spinning - around my arms and knees I feel like I'm disappearing - getting smaller every day but when I open my mouth to sing - I'm bigger in every way- Kim (my Mom) Gordon of Sonic Youth, Tunic Song (For Karen)
SuperStar-The Karen Carpenter Story One calorie TAB saccharine bride, easy-listening pop culture tale of Karen Carpenter's ill fated battle with Anorexia. A brilliant and touching slice of stop action cinema told with Mattel Barbie and Ken dolls. Directed by Todd Haynes (Poison and Safe) The film chronicles The Carpenters rise to super stardom, and Karen's ill-fated battle with the illness. The Barbie-doll literally deteriorates before your eyes, her plastic "flesh" carved away as her condition worsens. Backed by a wholesome sounding and hit filled Carpenters soundtrack, the film is interspersed with video footage of a human falling from the sky and butt spanking imagery. What initially seems like a hilarious 1970s camp send up, crashes and swerves, you are soon crawling from the burning embers of this compassionate 43 minute eulogy. Engrossing, eerie, brilliant commentary on Americas obsession with drugs, dieting, looks, super stardom and 1970s plastic California culture. Richard Carpenter successfully sued to stop any further copies of this 1987 film being shown or distributed so it is a rarity. Occasionally copies pop up on ebay.
8:26 PM :
Wednesday, January 17, 2001
French is one of the few languages that has its own unique word for computer, 'ordinateur'. Derived from medevil theology's 'deus ordinator', (domine deus, ordinator blah blah blah St. Augustine blah blah blah) or the divine authority that sees all apparitions and forms everything blah blah blah. I am fond of 'Logiciel' for software, but not so happy with the clunky 'message �lectronique' instead of our perky e-mail. The man who invented Aluminum Siding and the term Croissandwich will be burned at the stake. I think I will now use my 'ordinateur' to write some smut-mail (new word) to my Hot French Bodybuilder friends Ooh la la!
4:37 PM :
I never thought it possible, Ken Burns has sucked out whatever fun, energy, mystery, pain or soul that was jazz, and reduced it to one hell of a boring mini series for PBS, complete with packaging by borders and amazon. I have two names for you bitch face Burns....Bix Beiderbecke and Django Reinhardt...Please, don't even get me started on my Bix obsession, we could be here for days and days and days...
12:43 AM :
Tuesday, January 16, 2001
Corpse Photos SHOCK ART! No one speaks of the macabre anymore, and that saddens me. A Cincinnati photographer is suspected of allegedly sneaking around the Hamilton County Morgue to use fresh corpses as his models. Photographing corpses dates to Victorian times, a custom some families practiced to document a relative's funeral said the photographer. The article liberally uses terms like far out, shocking, twisted and sick. A fake brain was also found in the custody of the alleged artist.
4:39 PM :
I have absolutely nothing to say today.
11:12 AM :
Monday, January 15, 2001
An editorial review on amazon.com insists the following is in the Anthony Hughes' Michelangelo a Phaidon Art and Ideas Book; 'Anthony Hughes writes dryly of a Michelangelo sculpture of Christ, which was tinkered with and damaged during installation in March 1521: Since then, more tampering has taken place. From the late sixteenth century, Christ's genitalia were hidden beneath a bronze loincloth, although that did not prevent a zealous Dominican from trying to remove the penis'. I am exasperated that after reading the text, I cannot tell you where that interesting citing is found. Damn those Dominicans anyway, tamper tamper!
8:44 PM :
Gray January afternoon, I often get great horrible migraine headaches. Headaches so severe that nothing gets done, no reading, no writing, no letters or phone calls to friends. Nothing is created, melded or forged. There are no cures, perhaps, time, low light and a strong pot of coffee. A duration of three days marked by head splitting and/or much crankiness. Grrr! The tail end of my condition is plagued by severe restlessness, I hit the gym knowing that the 'I haven't got time for the pain' and a 'take two' headache is about over. Yes, I will have some Fantastic Olba's (synergistic combination of six essential oils providing amazing relief on multiple levels) mixture of peppermint, eucalyptus, cajeput, wintergreen, juniper and clove. Of course, I can't rub it all over my throbbing head so I apply it liberally onto my brow or third eye Chakra. Fuck, I feel amazing and instantly transported as I bench 260 pounds for three reps. Not a small lift for a short shit like me, standing 5 feet 6. (yes, this is a brag)
1:53 PM :
Sunday, January 14, 2001
Cure for migraines, chants, silver paints and prayers, nearly midnight black eyes writing, letters in my blood. Spit out x-rays late at night. Grab-assin rosary beads, plastic Jesus, crossing Delancey in my dreams. No light, white hot. my soul is sonic shining, someone whispers 'oh, oh, just like Am-phe-phe-phe-phe-phe-phe-phetamine' a piss poor Lou Reed imitation. Fingering my new tattoo, I follow 'When I'm rushin on my run And I feel just like Jesus' son And I guess that I just don't know And I guess that I just don't know'...Oh you were such a pretty boy, sweetness...sweetness...sleep.
12:44 AM :
