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'Available- cock ass mouth and their context': DC's select international male escorts for the month of November 2014

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moveslowly, 21
Modena

I like to start with you slowwwwwwly removing my dog head then soft smooches n kiss.....follow with deep tongue kiss for lonnnnnnnng......then partner slowwwwwwwwly removing my cloths...feeling the heat of each my parts through my dog fur.....raaaawwwwwr....then I slowwwwwwly strip my costume off to sleep nude partner smelling licking every part of me....cock fondling....get sucked...69 and enjoy getting fucked harrrrrrrrdand and....i lovvvvvvvve when someone rim my ass as i m needy for the time being.

Dicksize No entry, Cut
Position Bottom only
Kissing No
Fucking More bottom
Oral Bottom
Dirty No entry
Fisting No entry
S&M No entry
Fetish Leather, Rubber, Boots, Lycra
Client age Users younger than 48
Rate hour 50 Euros
Rate night 200 Euros



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Jake, 21
London

I am a rather mostly passive compulsive tabooless gay boy with youthful radiation.

I like to grow your cock in my mouth with my nimble tongue or in my anus forward to your orgasm. I like you licking, kneading or lace my balls to make shooting the cumload out if your dick. I like you getting unloaded your balls in a horny hole or 2. I am allways lucky about your huge cum shoots.

Brutality, injuries, remained damages will not be tolerated.

Role: Bottom
Body Hair: none
Kiss: YES
Blowjob: Give
Massage: Give and receive
Trios: No
Gangbang: No
Cum on Body: Receive
Cum on face: Receive
Cum eating: No
Reply to SMS?: Yes
The type of guys i like are? Muscular, manly.
Age of guys i will meet are: 26-90
How far are you willing to travel for outcalls from your location , in miles? 150
What is your standard of spoken english? Very Good
What other languages apart from English do you speak? Russian, Czech, Italian.
City: London
Nearest Station: Tottenham Court Road
1 Hour: £140
2 Hours: £250



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BodyMessageFromSex, 24
Marikina, Philippines

We are an escort in swimwear looking for some friends.
Visit our clinic now, price start at $5 only.
We are located- Marcos highway masinag, in front of masinag market above generics pharmacy.
Available- cock ass mouth and their context.
Dont ask for not serious things.

Dicksize No entry, Cut
Position Versatile
Kissing No entry
Fucking No entry
Oral No entry
Dirty No entry
Fisting No entry
S&M No entry
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 5 Dollars
Rate night 5 Dollars



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SexyAssSkinnyBody, 22
Paris

I am always mesmerized by the ocean and want the person I am with to feel a connection with the ocean also.

If you want to make a video for a porno, that's cool. I imagine as I look so young it would be popular.

Dicksize XL, Cut
Position Versatile
Kissing Consent
Fucking Versatile
Oral Versatile
Dirty No
Fisting No
S&M No
Fetish Sportsgear, Underwear, Formal dress, Sneakers & Socks, Jeans
Client age Users between 40 and 60
Rate hour 180 Euros
Rate night 800 Euros



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AssTerminator, 19
Oujda

Hi I am form Serbia nd i think i am cute, i am like fuck you strong you suck my cock big, i am like hot sperm on my body, i am search home for 6 day, i am about is your holes, i am like the idea of my arm inside you, i am is you sir.

Dicksize XL, Uncut
Position Top only
Kissing No entry
Fucking Top only
Oral Top
Dirty Yes
Fisting Active
S&M Yes
Fetish Sportsgear, Underwear, Uniform, Sneakers & Socks
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour ask
Rate night ask



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Stevenisthename, 24
Duisburg

Hey, I'm back! Who already knows me and liked can & should of course like to fuck me again.

MY NAME IS STEVEN, Boy eager FOR THOSE WHO WANT TO HAVE FAILED TO COMPLY WITH A YOUNG AND HANDSOME BOY TOTALLY!

I always say I'm happy for the "Normal". That would be:
- Eating my bubbles
- Masturbation
- Fucking my bubbles
- Rimming my bubbles
- All your fingers in my bubbles
- Injecting into my bubbles
For other cool things just ask. I can not say no more than yes.

The most frequently asked question is whether I cum too. YES, definitely, and preferably if all you fingers are deep and grinding inside my bubbles :) My 20 * 5cm explode then very extreme.

I can also fix your telephone.

Dicksize L, Uncut
Position Versatile
Kissing Consent
Fucking Bottom only
Oral Versatile
Dirty No
Fisting Negotiable
S&M No
Fetish Underwear
Client age Users between 30 and 55
Rate hour 110 Euros
Rate night ask



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Lordalfreddouglas, 19
Tours

Bosie accompagne son Oscar pour moment de détente

pas de faux plans

Dicksize M, Uncut
Position Bottom only
Kissing Consent
Fucking No entry
Oral Versatile
Dirty WS only
Fisting No
S&M No entry
Fetish Uniform, Formal dress, Jeans, Worker
Client age Users between 20 and 60
Rate hour 150 Euros
Rate night ask



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NeedMoney,21
Hamburg

'm A natural hot submissive passive Bare fuck hole and irrevocably sole PROPERTY of ANYONE

Arise especially on masculine hairy, beard guys, with fixed grins, unwashed .. because a guy has to smell and taste guy, a little belly does not bother me

lass let me gladly presented in parking lots to fuck in ass and face spritzen..werde like then like to familiarize myself with chems and TINA to be no brained hole and climb on every hard cock

Overuse also like to sow in sex cinema - Dark Room - Outdoor - Anonymous - pigpen - torture chamber - graveyard - dont care dont care where FUCK ME AND SHOOT DEEP

I also love to go as a group to bitch mass insemination

Professional'm much in Berlin, Frankkfurt, NRW, and Munich go and search there always horny nasty bareback fuckers, Skins, foreigners, Fetish, Daddy, Bi, Proll Typen, P, sling, bondage, dd / P, ff / P, ns / P, spit piss shit on, sometimes beating, pp and chems rather hard or happen to Rape, rape, RAPE, Screening, humiliation, education..

for 50 euros you can get your spit into the hole

Dicksize No entry, Cut
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
Fucking Bottom only
Oral Bottom
Dirty Yes
Fisting Bottom
S&M Bottom
Fetish Underwear
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour ask
Rate night ask



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ThePassionate, 18
Kiev

If you want to hug me and kiss me just not knowing what will happen to you i am 16 year old virgin from Ukraine and i am not sale my body just be here to find a serious man to hire me for my life and i can guarantee no awkwardness and i open to live in germany with the man who love me in real and want to marry me and i think that is the best gift you can give to someone and i badly need it.

Dicksize L, Cut
Position Versatile
Kissing No entry
Fucking No entry
Oral No entry
Dirty No entry
Fisting Active
S&M No entry
Fetish Sportsgear, Uniform, Formal dress, Sneakers & Socks
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour ask
Rate night ask



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unemployedStudent, 20
Munich

Unemployed Student from Denmark
I came for studies to munich.
Expensive town..
I'm really new, so I think blowfun should be enough.
Please dont ask me to fuck you, thank you.

Dicksize XXL, Uncut
Position More bottom
Kissing Consent
Fucking No
Oral Top
Dirty WS only
Fisting No
S&M Soft SM only
Fetish Sportsgear, Underwear, Uniform, Formal dress, Jeans, Worker
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour ask
Rate night ask



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HotAss4Cash, 23
Toronto

I am only looking for ugly old men over 45 years old that loves to dominate a hot bubble butt. I don't mind if you are married, or if you are fat or skinny. If you are hairy or shaved. I don't mind if you have a small or a enormous cock.

I personally prefer to offer my hot butt to men that are too affraid to go to some other and ask him to have sex or to ugly men. I don't know but it's like a fetish for me. So, if you are not confortable with yourself or anything about you, you can anal fuck in any possition you want, as hard as you can penetrate my ass for 30 minutes.

I go mostly everyday at the gym, but not to work my upper body. I go to the gym to work my butt, make it as bubbled as possible. I will upload a few pictures with my butt here someday.

Dicksize M, Cut
Position Bottom only
Kissing No entry
Fucking Bottom only
Oral Bottom
Dirty No
Fisting Passive
S&M Soft SM only
Fetish Underwear
Client age Users over 45
Rate hour 50 Dollars
Rate night 200 Dollars



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the_jaguar, 19
Bucharest

taste me if you want. armpits, groin, ass, feet, mouth, .. get your tongue inside my nose and ears. :) you'll nothing to regret. Just stay tasting me all night. were going to have a tasting party on bed anytime you want. even taste my urine and poo if you want. :) So guys PM me now and get all my flavors you want. :) Hope you like my performance the moment were in bed :)

Dicksize L, Uncut
Position Versatile
Kissing Yes
Fucking Versatile
Oral Versatile
Dirty No
Fisting Active
S&M Soft SM only
Fetish Me
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 500 Dollars
Rate night 1200 Dollars



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CHANGEYOU, 18
Dallas

LOOKING FOR TO CHANGE YOU?..JUST TRY ME THIS TIME AND I GUARANTEE YOU LOOK DIFFERENT AFTER..

The most important: Dont be affraid of me.! I just want to have a completely adventurous, weird life.

Dicksize No entry, Cut
Position Top only
Kissing Yes
Fucking Top only
Oral No entry
Dirty No entry
Fisting No entry
S&M No entry
Fetish Underwear
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 300 Dollars
Rate night 1000 Dollars



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jojofrenchie, 21
London

John 21 years old, from here. Here since almost one year.

I has maked some movie.

When you look for a cute horny boy then look no further because you look at him now!

Also please don't come with kind of offer fuck me for 20 -30 euro or all shit.

I am not a sexy machine, I am a human with feelings and concepts.

Living in a friend's basement with one other dude.

Scroll down...

Dicksize L, Uncut
Position Versatile
Kissing Consent
Fucking Versatile
Oral Versatile
Dirty No entry
Fisting Active / passive
S&M No entry
Fetish Underwear, Jeans
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 100 Pounds
Rate night 300 Pounds



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RideMyTrunk, 23
Berne

Chill bro named troy, used to live in Detroit
Big d..e dealer money, I was getting some coins
Can you give me some euros because I like getting free stuff
Suck me too, up to you

Dicksize M, Cut
Position Top only
Kissing Consent
Fucking Top
Oral Top
Dirty No
Fisting No
S&M No
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour ask
Rate night ask



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fucksocket, 20
Norfolk

I tend to twiddle with the ideas of social normality.

I'm pale, 5'3, skinny and an artist. I paint watercolours mostly but occasionally use other things. I have eleven tattoos and counting, I've been called a lot of things but nice has never really been one of them. Like everyone esle, I change, and as do the people I'm trying to attract. But now I have finally come to the conclusion that I don't give two flying fucks about who I attract because everyone is scum and the rest is marketing.

But if you're super-sickly-sweet I'll think you're fake. If you ignore me and act like a stuck-up cunt I'll think you're pathetic. So try be my fuck, do my skin, nut in me or take my nut or whatever and just let the rest of me be, oh and really try not to fall in love.

Dicksize M, Uncut
Position Bottom only
Kissing Consent
Fucking Versatile
Oral Versatile
Dirty No
Fisting No
S&M No
Fetish Sportsgear, Skater, Underwear, Uniform, Formal dress, Techno & Raver, Jeans, Worker
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 30 Pounds
Rate night 200 Pounds



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SurferBlondBoy,24
London

Hello, I am Patrik, originally from Czech republic. I receive on a hotel close to Pancras station internation from 13 november till 17 november 2014. I am only here for Bi guys due to my psychology. If you're not Bi, lie to me that you're Bi then do whatever you want with your cock. Lie good because I have a brain cell.

Dicksize L, Uncut
Position More bottom
Kissing Yes
Fucking More bottom
Oral Versatile
Dirty WS only
Fisting No entry
S&M Soft SM only
Fetish Leather, Sportsgear, Skater, Rubber, Underwear, Boots, Lycra, Uniform, Formal dress, Techno & Raver, Sneakers & Socks, Jeans, Drag, Worker
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 210 Euros
Rate night 650 Euros



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TheWolfGodofDemons, 20
Istanbul

If he want to be violent and use a gay like me pick up me and take me at His home to live with him i am from tunisia. Beat me and piss me and shit directly in my mouth and fuck me with violence.

You can pay in Crystal if you dont have money.

Normal boy, but very slut

Dicksize S, Uncut
Position Bottom only
Kissing Consent
Fucking Bottom only
Oral Bottom
Dirty Passive
Fisting Passive
S&M Yes
Fetish Sportsgear, Skins & Punks, Uniform, Formal dress, Sneakers & Socks, Jeans, Worker
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 200 Euros
Rate night ask



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Daniel, 18
Cambria

Hi there,
A small, composed, mature boy is here to offer his service to those looking for a private, sophisticated bodily experience.
I'm an easy-going boy, who enjoys a bit of conversation, some wine, a clinking of the glasses, a meeting of the minds before "getting down".
Rest assured: "I've been around". I'm as versed in "hot sex" as I am in my school books or the in garden on my grandfather's estate that I tend religiously at the weekends. One thing has to be clear though: I'm not inexpensive.

For those that know me from previous experiences: It's very good to be back. For those who wonder, I received top marks on all of my finals! However, the autumn weather did not sit well with me, and I was sick in bed for an entire week!
For those that don't know me yet: Well, now is the time to do something about that.

I haven't had a decent orgasm in days!
I'm looking forward to it!

Dicksize M, Uncut
Position Versatile
Kissing Consent
Fucking Bottom only
Oral Top
Dirty No
Fisting Passive
S&M Soft SM only
Fetish Priest robes
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 300 Euros
Rate night 400 Euros



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whoreboythatme, 19
Chesterfield

i am a whore i know i am been doing things with guys since was 12 ,been paid for it since i been 15 and i love it.

i not scared of the life style i embrace it , i always wanted to be a whore 24/7 no say on my part no limit to what men can pay to do to me.

i hate when a client wants to get know you that means he will be soft on you and want talk for hours i don't wanna be loved or cared for i want be used and paid.

id love a client come and take me to be exclusive livein whore wherever you live i got £60 quid get any where i know not much but i want one way and that it.

please i know a whore is what i am and i know this all i am good for im looking for a a client to take me and make me his ideal fuck

no rules full no rules no rules

so don't ask me rules because i aint got any.

Dicksize M, Cut
Position Versatile
Kissing Yes
Fucking Versatile
Oral Versatile
Dirty Yes
Fisting Passive/Active
S&M Yes
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 100 Pounds
Rate night 500 Pounds




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p.s. Hey. So I'm back, and welcome back to you! My time away was really and completely amazing! I would imagine that any details will leak out over the p.s., which I'm going to get going on since it involves a lot of catching up. I'll do the first lot of the rerun comments in one batch, and then I'll do the comments you guys left on the last pre-vacation post in a second batch, if that makes any sense. ** 10/28 - 11/01 ** Tomkendall, Hi, Tom. Thanks a bunch for the good trip wishes. Your wish came true. I certainly hope that your work-related exhaustion is long gone at this late date. Any news from the agencies? ** David Ehrenstein, Hi, David! Maybe I'll see the Araki online or rent it at some point or something. Managed to catch 'Adieu aux Langage' in 3D while I was in NYC, and, whoa, I thought it was really incredible. Probably my favorite film of the year. Amazing that Godard remains so daring and exploratory and sharp at his age. Such an incredible inspiration. ** Torn porter, Howdy, T! Wow, it has been a long time. Really good to see you! Weird about the dead animal thing. That Vice thing seems fake? ** Keaton, Hi, buddy! Of course I'm far too late to see your seemingly long deleted Halloween Varioso and other Halloween posts, which sucks since I miss Halloween a bunch, but I hope the folks who stuck around here got the chances. I like the sound of your Halloween. It has a spooky low-key thing going on. I spent mine watching a 'Kindertotenlieder' performance then hitting a NYC spooky house -- Blood Manor, not bad at all -- with Zac, Gisele, and Stephen, and then ... I can't remember. ** Thomas Moronic, Thank you for the safe travel wish! It was safe, all apart from an unfortunate slip by me on an icy walkway towards the end of our Iceland portion which resulted in my having three broken ribs, a mouth full of ouches, and a system full of pain-killers. Small but nagging price. Your slave sonnets were/are magnificent little word creatures, maestro! ** Kier, Kier! Pal oh pal! How was your ... what was it, three weeks, a little less? Tell me, tell me. Well, tell me the stuff you remember and that interests you. My three (?) weeks were too full of stuff to recount, of course, except in spilling bits and pieces, but I have to say that Iceland is surely the most amazingly beautiful, otherworldly place on earth. A total mindblow. We had so much fun. And NYC and environs went really well too. How are you? ** Bill, Hi, B! What did you do on Halloween? ** Bernard Welt, Hi, B! It was sweetness itself to get to see you even for that very brief minute-plus! And you really should look into a Recollects residency. I'll be on it and help make it happen whenever you say the word. We'll have to talk about the art world, not that it doesn't confuse me too. Let's do a phoner or Skyper. What do you say? Love, me. ** Sypha, Hi, James! Thanks retrospectively. And I'll go hunt down your email. I got even more email-lost in the last few weeks than usual. ** Mark Doten, Hi, Mark! I only got to see you for a milli-second, which sucked, but it was a very great milli-second. How are you? ** Misanthrope, G-ster! I did miss you, duh. Seeing you and Nicholas for that painfully short time at the show was really, really nice, and I'm sorry I was such a flit. NYC was a flitty time. Did you have fun in the big N? What did you do? I had chicken pox as a kid, yikes! Holy crap! LPS is there now, right? How's he? How's that? Catch me up a bit, man! ** Damien Ark, Hi, Damien! It would be a blessing not to have to worry about those slaves anymore, so I hope you've managed to corral them somewhere ... safe? Ha ha. How are you, man? What's been happening? ** Robert-nyc, Hi, Robert! I saw you at the discussion, but I can't remember if we actually got to say hi. I was stressed and on the run that night. How is everything with you post-then? ** Marcus Whale, Hey there, Marcus! Ha ha, they were, weren't they? Sorry, I mean that slave's music tracks. Ha ha, yes! You good? I saw on FB that you were performing or djing, like, yesterday or something somewhere? Did it go splendidly? You great? ** Tim Jones-Yelvington, Wow, Tim! Holy shit, it's so super great to see you! That's awesome about Tiny Hardcore! Sure, yeah, send me the pdf. My email, if you don't have it or forgot it, is: dcooperweb@gmail.com. Congrats to you and to them! ** Steve, Hi, Steve! I was having a good time at the time you asked, assuredly, even if I can't remember the specifics, thank you! ** Kyler, I didn't peek until yesterday afternoon. Yeah, nice smoking with you. Zac says hi. And thank you for one of your special cigarettes. It sat very well. Of course I'm glad you liked 'Ktl'. Thanks. The haunted house we did that night -- Nightmare: New York -- was ... okay, so-so, not bad, but the one we did a couple of days later (Blood Manor) was surprisingly quite good. ** Oscar B, Osky-wosk! I just saw you last night! And I'll see you again today! What a boon! Wait, I want to see pix of that pumpkin you carved. Do you have any on your phone? See you soon! ** Etc etc etc, Hi, Casey! Yes, really good to get to see you for that very brief moment. Thanks a whole lot about 'Kindertotenlieder'. Yeah, that's my fave of Gisele's and my works, and I'm really happy that it seemed to go so well in NYC. The haunted house that we were on our way to that night, was, as I told Kyler, ... okay, pretty good, but not world-class. Fujiko Nakaya's fog sculpture at the Philip Johnson House is really beautiful and amazing. The PJ house and grounds and stuff are pretty nice, and I'm glad we went. It wasn't earth-shatteringly fascinating or anything, but going there is a nice thing to do. I'm not sure if going there sans Fujiko's fog piece is a must. 'Hellraiser' haze! How have you been since I saw you, man? ** Paul Curran, Howdy, Paul! Everything in NYC went pretty well, yeah. And, man, if you ever get the chance to go Iceland, go! And don't just stay in Reykjavik, which is nice enough and everything, but you need to rent a car and drive around the island like we did. Unbelievable! ** Rewritedept, Hey! Happy Halloween back to you, but two weeks-plus late! ** Scunnard, Hey, J-Pop! I can totally, totally, totally imagine the annoyingness of the Residents 'Eskimo' album, but, surely, by now you're on to sturdier things. Although,wait, if you were up to the R's back when you posted that comment, you must be finished with your alphabetical voyage? Highlights? Shocks? Revelations? ** 11/03/14 ** Jose Acevedo, Hi, Jose! I remember you, man. I have a memory like a hawk or whatever they say. Really great to see you! My email address, if you want to send me stuff, is: dcooperweb@gmail.com. I'm really slow with email, know that, but I would love to see/hear your stuff, and I'll try my best to be focused. Thanks! ** Kier, K! Uh, NYC was really good. We were in and out, and both the ins and outs were really good. And Iceland was ... holy shit! Insane! Other than breaking my ribs, which was insane in another way. I'm still on painkillers and going 'ouch' a lot as I type this p.s. I don't think you mentioned Benino before, but painkillers have this weird non-friendship with memory. I like that word 'Flekkfrid'. I bet I would like that sheep. I'm excited to start sharing days with you again! Yesterday, I just mostly made blog posts in a desperate attempt to prevent the blog from going into reruns this week, and then I hung out with Zac and Kiddiepunk and Oscar B, the latter two of whom are in Paris for a short visit, and ate a bit, and worked a bit, and said 'ouch' a lot whenever I had to sit down or stand up or turn sharply in any direction. It was okay. How was Monday? I want to see your shark! Ha ha, what with these pain-killers and pain attacks, I might well be home early and writing this in Swedish. ** Keaton, Sucks about your Halloween story deletion, but I have to trust your judgement, and I do. I envy your spooky Halloween. Mine was just fun at spookiness's expense, not that there's anything wrong with that. You might be here in December already? Whoa, cool! What's the scoop? You preserved one of your posts! It looks good. I'll get all over it in a bit. Everyone, Keaton's got something new and no doubt as sharp as a tack up on his blog that you ought to go look at, and I think it's called '“They think they know who I am. All they know is I love to kill.” Cannibal Corpse, Stripped, Raped, and Strangled'. ** Bill, Hi, B. The Mellotron is, I guess obviously, one of my very favorite instruments too, sigh. Ha ha, that Mellotron demo clip was really cool. Oh, so that's what you did on Halloween. Ignore my question posed above. I haven't thought about 'LotWW' in, god, yonks! The two haunted houses were a mixed bag, one okay, one shockingly pretty damned good. The volcanoes, or the dead or dormant ones at least, were everywhere and, you know, jaw-dropping. We were scheduled to take a helicopter flight/tour over the active one, but the weather was too inclement that day, so it got cancelled, which, you know, sucked. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. That was Iceland, all right. Thank you. ** Tosh Berman, Hi, Tosh! Thank you! Oh, Tosh, I want to do a post on your '... Mr. Blum's ... ' book. If you're game, can you send me an excerpt that I can use? My scanner's broken. I think I can take care of the rest. Only if you're game, of course. ** Steve, Hi. Look forward to your Greene interview. And especially to your Cassavettes piece! Everyone, we got a nice double-header of an add by Mr. Steevee today. First, his interview with documentarian Robert 'Actress' Greene, and, second, and probably most importantly, his overview of Cassavetes, centered around the Criterion LOVE STREAMS DVD, which looks to be pretty incredible and, like, a must! Wow, hm, really, about the new Pink Floyd? I'll gingerly test it, but I'm pretty suspicious, I have to say. Other than my ribs, which are in semi-constant pain, I'm doing pretty okay. It's definitely warmer in France than it was in Iceland, where the temps kind of ranged from, oh, 0 degrees centigrade to 6/7 below zero. No jet lag at all from Iceland to France. It's only a one hour time difference, so it's like traveling from the UK. ** Nicki, Hi there, Nicki! Thank you! Iceland was great, great! It was cold, for sure, but not horrifyingly so. Windy though, whoa! How are you? ** Rewritedept, Hi, C. Well, that post was from years ago, so blame my younger self, I guess. I did see that thing about the Anderson/ Mothersbaugh theme park, and, of course, what an exciting idea, but so many theme parks are proposed/ announced and so incredibly few ever get built, so my excitement has a healthy dose of skepticism. Sounds like you had quite a good and better time while I was away, awesome. Oh, wow, thank you about the Beer Thousand, whoa. Thank you! I like your a tattoo. It's just enough Steadman and just enough off to be cool. ** Thomas Moronic, Hi, T. My trip bordered on the heavenly. That's how great it was. New poems by you! Superb! Everyone, Mr. Thomas Moronic has some new poems up and readable by you online at Der Grief in a special area of the magazine/site guest-curated by super great photographer and former d.l. Joakim Almroth. Go read post-haste! ** Darren anderson, Darren! Holy wow, it's great to see you! How are you? Visually, you seem to be doing quite well. Would be very lovely and welcome if you want to hang out here, dear friend. Everyone, Darren anderson aka legendary d.l. Little foal returns long enough to link us up to 888888dog777777. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Big Ben! Happy 35th! Good age, mid-thirties. Iceland was awesome beyond words almost. Ooh, nice, fun, trippy about that YnY event! Of course I think the Vine channel idea is a great one, yes! Totally! The Sade show at the d'Orsay has been much raved about, and it is on my immediate agenda. Thanks!  ** James, Hi, James! Iceland was stunning, magical, breathtaking, yes, just like you guessed. Didn't run into Bjork, but the hotel we stayed at in Reykjavik named their rooms after Icelandic famous people, and we stayed in the Bjork room, so I kind of ran into her. I didn't know there was a Postal Service movie, huh. Interesting. Surely I can stream it somewhere, and I'll look into that. You been good? You sound good. ** Okay. We've restarted. I'm going to go take another painkiller now and continue with my day, and you guys have the blog's permission to voyage through this month's escorts and see what you think. See you tomorrow.

Gig #66: Of late 14: Katie Gately, Boothroyd, Blut aus Nord, Jason Crumer, Moniek Darge, Objekt, Ashley Paul, Institute, D/P/I, Pig Destroyer, Terrence Hannum, Pinkcourtesyphone, Mirage

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Katie GatelyLast Day
'Katie Gately is an LA computer whizz whose work spans sound design, electronically rendered polyphonic choral music and a nascent form of laptop pop. Pop music that can’t sit still, is exploding with ideas. Sometimes it sounds overloaded with thoughts, which find literal expression in Katie’s dense Disco Inferno-like lattices of words. But then on other tracks her vocals pull back and space out, disassociating from the rhythms and finding unlikely companions in choirs of pitch-shifted and manipulated vocals – her voice made into marching, chirruping armies of munchkins, automatons, Substance D-stretched friend-apparitions.'-- collaged






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BoothroydColony
'Boothroyd is working in a very strange space right now. He’s almost definitely genre-less (assuming you’re not the kind to count “electronic” and “experimental” as real tags), but he’s certainly not peerless. If anything, his association with Tri Angle is actually the most predictable thing about him. Following drops from Fis, SD Laika, and The Haxan Cloak, the harsh specters of Idle Hours feel quite natural. The former’s skeletal D&B skank casts a long shadow over this release, particularly with respect to the fluttery, abstract percussion, and the whole thing feels like a cross between Evian Christ’s early ambient “Duga-3” tape and his more garish Waterfall EP from this year. However, I think one would be remiss to chalk Boothroyd up to a Frankenstein’s monster of the Tri Angle roster. The twitchy, rainy vibes of “Y5” in particular, replete with cascading sheets of hiss and ghastly moans, feel like they point to entirely new dimensions of darkness.'-- Tiny Mix Tapes






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Blut aus Nordmemoria vetusta iii: saturnian poetry: 04 forhist
'Consider the fact that enigmatic multi-instrumentalist Vindsval made his Blut Aus Nord debut in 1995 – the same year that ushered in the likes of black metal milestones like Immortal’s Battles in the North, Dissection’s Storm of the Light’s Bane, and Behemoth’s debut full-length Sventevith (Storming Near the Baltic). There are others of course that bear their own significance to heavy music, but the mention of these black metal releases in particular is significant in the context of the nearly two decades since their release. Of the many things that Blut Aus Nord’s catalogue offers musically, it also provides a striking glimpse of what’s likely to be seen as black metal’s most substantial point of creative evolution since the Second Wave. The climb upward for Blut Aus Nord has included all manner of soundscapes ranging from the most bleak and frayed black metal to the cold and sinister language of electronica. Here at their apex thus far, Saturnian Poetry finds Blut Aus Nord appropriately at their very beginnings, only now the music carries alongside it those shadows and landmarks of experience and expertise, all culminating in a sound that unsurprisingly remains solely in the cosmic grasp of this band.'-- Steel for Brains







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Jason CrumerWellsley's Philosophy
'If you’re listening to Jason Crumer albums without quality headphones, you’re doing it wrong. The Baltimore-based noise artist’s catalog teems with eldritch nuance that rewards close listening. From 2006’s Hum Of An Imagined Environment onward, a strong cinematic streak has characterized Crumer’s solo work; it’s often impossible to experience without succumbing to the whys and wherefores, the mysteries of creation. Disqualifier is no different in that sense. ‘Wellsley’s Philosophy’ is the most striking moment on Disqualifier. It opens inauspiciously with the concussive throttle of machinery, quickly gathering pieces of dander: the clink of pickaxes on steel, the rumble of locomotives, inaudible masculine shouts. The clinks accumulate, the shouts recede, Native American flutes interject, drums thunder through, distortion floods the scene, is chased out by equanimous synthesizers. There’s a strong whiff of blue-collar, all-American mettle in the track, communicated with the evocative, concentrated intensity that characterizes professional advertising. A narrative of some sort clearly unites Disqualifier— why else would the names of characters recur in the titles?—but ‘Wellsley’s Philosophy,’ taken as a single chapter, makes a greater showcase for Crumer’s storytelling potential.'-- City Paper






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Moniek DargeTurkish Square
'Born in Bruges, Belgium in 1952, Moniek Darge has worked as a composer, violinist, performer and installation artist. She studied music theory and violin at the Music Conservatory of Bruges as well as painting at the Ghent Royal Academy of Fine Arts, Arthistory, Philosophy and Anthropology. She has published extensively on her musical experiences in Kenya, Rwanda, Japan, China, Brazil, Australia and New Zealand, both in 'Logos-Blad', the monthly magazine of the Logos Foundation (of which she is editor), and on numerous radio programs.'-- Discogs






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ObjektOne Fell Swoop
'With these experiments of form and response with so-called “dance” and “experimental” music, Berlin-based TJ Hertz gets at larger issues concerning time and space by surgically slicing, operating, then suturing the operative functions of dance music. The dancefloor is, after all, a speculative space, at once common ground and no-man’s land. Hertz sees this and in turn separates the synaptic nerves of dance music genres to see “how things work.” The genius here is that he puts it all back together with a cold headiness that the legs never notice; the aesthetic here is disconnected from the affected, unaffected.'-- Tiny Mix Tapes






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Ashley PaulI'm In You
'Ashley Paul is a performer and composer based in Brooklyn, New York. She uses an array of instruments including saxophone, clarinet, voice, guitar, bells and percussion, mixing disparate elements to create a colorful palate of sound that works its way into her intuitive songs; free forming, introverted melodies. Heat Source finds Ashley Paul working using her brilliant ears to find a zen like balance between her voice and a sparse arrangement of staccato instrumentation leaving as much open space on one song as most people would create in a lifetime. This open space isn't empty, however, but it's up to you to fill in the meaning. Heat Source is an emotionally challenging and fascinatingly personal listening experience that creates a powerful pace.'-- Brainwashed






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InstituteSalt
'Institute are of the here and now; they hail from Austin, TX, and share members with Wiccans, Glue, Blotter, and Recide. The project began as a set of four-track sketches made by singer Moses Brown, and a full-band demo turned into Institute's six-song, self-titled debut EP, released in February on British Columbia's Deranged Records. The Salt EP builds upon that foundation in subtle ways. The production is just as tarnished, just as ragged, but the elements have snapped ever so slightly more into focus. The songwriting feels sharper, and the hooks sink deeper. "Salt" opens the record on a high point, setting a bassline that flashes back to "She's Lost Control" over rolling, skipping, "tribal" drums straight out of Siouxsie's The Scream. For all their resemblance to deathrock and post-punk greats of yore, there's nothing mannered or simulacral about Institute. They are as real as the lump in your throat and the salt under your nails, and their sting couldn't be sweeter.'-- Philip Sherburne






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D/P/I02  - B.I.D.
'Upon being asked about organizational processes, Alex Gray described his angle to TMT earlier in the year: “I’ll have eight or 10 or 15 micro-compositions based on a sample, and handle each of those things as an uncompressed piece to the overall puzzle.” This would allow for an almost infinite number of combinations — an indication of Gray’s compositional knack — but whereas samples have sometimes been recognizable on past material (from Roy Orbison on FRESH ROSES to R Kelly on I’m Fuckin You Tonight), they are utterly tangled and transformed here, giving rise to only one comprehensible line of dialogue and the occasional garbled phrase amongst a magnificent dream-induced collage of sound.'-- collaged






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Pig Destroyer Red Tar
'Unlike the frantic Phantom Limb— or Book Burner, Pig Destroyer’s intervening album—Mass & Volume is slow. As in, glacier-dragging-a-fallen-planetoid slow. In that sense, it draws from the dour, down-tuned slither of doom metal, but it’s a far cry from either the antediluvian groove of Pentagram or the antiheroic songcraft of recent outfits like Lycus and Pallbearer. “Red Tar” is only three times as long as your average Pig Destroyer song, but those six and a half minutes are milked of every conceivable ounce of sludge. Here the EP finally resembles a Pig Destroyer 45 played on 33, plain and simple, with none of the compositional mutation on display in “Mass & Volume”. It’s the perfect complement; tighter and more coherent—inasmuch as Hayes and Hull’s mutual assured deconstruction could ever be called coherent—the song creeps from plateau to plateau, leaving a trail of viscera in its wake. “Grief crawls in the shadow of time/ Try to keep in mind/ It’s all finite,” Hayes grunts in existential agony. Instead of seeming like some noble savage, he’s a trapped animal, snarling and soon to be gutted.'-- Jason Heller






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Terrence HannumHYSTERESIS
'Terence Hannum’s works all use magnetic audio tape as art media. This an obsolete technology. As such, the deliberate choice of this material reads as symbolic, chosen for its history as much as the way it looks and functions. Audio tape is ferrous powder bonded to narrow strips of plastic film; audio tape records sounds through the rearrangement of the iron particles into patterns by an electro-magnetic head, which also decodes those patterns back into audio. This encoding, the rearrangement of particles, is invisible to the eye. With a CDR or DVR, one can see a different pattern in how the surface of the disc reflects light. There, the unwritten portion looks different from the encoded. The tape is uniformly grey/brown and shiny. Magnetic tape is similar to a traditional hard drive; the magnetic encoding is the same. And with each, the recording of information and change to the material does not leave a visible mark or pattern.'-- Bmore Art






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Pinkcourtesyphone closer to here than you care to be
'The aesthetic Richard Chartier has developed as Pinkcourtesyphone may bear little resemblance to the serious, scholarly work that he issues under his own name, but it features the same level of compositional skill and complexity that sounds like no other. The underlying theme of vintage camp and ennui results in an juxtaposition with the dark sexuality and hints of sleaze that permeates, resulting in a genius reality versus fantasy pairing befitting the 1950s housewife sensibility PCP has featured heavily in his albums thus far.'-- Brainwashed






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MirageBlood of the Return
'The story of Mirage is an interesting one. He put out his album Blood For The Return on Bandcamp at the beginning of the year and contacted Todd Ledford of (mostly-defunct) independent label Olde English Spelling Bee about it, but his emails got more and more bizarre as time went on: increasingly demanding, more rambling, and generally more psychologically unsound. It turned out that Robin Nydal has been listed as a "19-year-old" musician from Los Angeles for a good few years now, and that "Robin Nydal" is, as name's go, awfully close to "Bob Dylan". Whether any of Ledford's story is true or not is, obviously, completely beside the point, as the drunk and woozy psych pop music speaks for itself.'-- DUMMY







*

p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, Thank you, David. Ah, it makes sense that Lordalfreddouglas would tip your scales. Certainly an interesting approach on his part. I imagine his inbox is rather packed with prospectees. ** Bernard Welt, B! Johnny Rapid, I know him. I mean I know him not at all and yet intimately. Now that I'm over my lifelong desire to make a porn, I think you should fill my void. Or you should at least add narration pre-existing porns. I'm not kidding. Awesome that you're serious about Paris. Yeah, sort stuff out, and let me know before you apply to the Recollets, so I can butter Chrystel up, not that she'll need much butter, but still. Would totally, totally love to Skype/phone. Let me know when is good. I should be home here for a while 'cos I've got work/deadlines galore. Not too shabby fiction class indeed! When I saw Paul McCarthy when he was here few weeks ago, he said Benjamin is finally finishing up a new book of stories at extremely long last. Great about Trinie. She's wonderful. I think you should write that NoES essay obviously, clearly. Did you? ** Damien Ark, Damien! Dude, Iceland was insane. Zac took the bulk of the photos, so I'll see if I can pry enough out of him to make a post. School's good? What are you studying, etc.? Never read 'Dhalgren'. It's great? I always meant to, but long books are so intimidating. I think you could marry the Ukraine guy and have the furry as a pet maybe? ** Sypha, Thanks, James. Welcome back to you too! Congrats on the gold pin. That's pretty cool. Oh, the new Nadon is out! Awesome! I'll go get it! Everyone, while the blog was way, the eminent author-slash-many things including composer/ musician Sypha released his new album of music that he records under the moniker Sypha Nadon, and it's called 'Canadian Atheist', and you can hear it, get it, read about it, peruse the lyrics and other related stuff right here, and you so totally should, obviously, if you haven't got it yet. So do that, won't you? Thank you. ** Tosh Berman, Hi, Tosh! I got your emails, and thank you a ton! I'll get the post set up and get back to you with the very imminent launch date right away. Great, great! ** Bill, Hi. Thanks about the ribs. Sucks. I've broken my ribs twice before, but never the ribs in my back before, and that location is a much bigger drag for some reason. Right, 'Zeroville', you like it? I've never read it. I read, I think, two Erickson novels, but early ones, I think. I think I liked them. I need to reinvestigate him. A week off, yay! ** Steevee, Thanks, Steve. Yeah, broken ribs are no fun. Watch your step. I read your top ten documentary list last night. Really interesting. I haven't seen a one of them yet. They all intrigue, I guess especially the first two due to their formal adventuring. Thanks! Everyone, Steevee has made a 2014 top ten best documentary films list for Fandor, and I read it last night, and it's very interesting and will make you want to watch some obviously very strong films, so I obviously recommend that you click this. Obviously, I'm curious to hear that Azealia Banks LP, and those are cogent points on your part, obviously. It is really bizarre and somehow telling how many gay guys refuse to accept bisexuality as a real thing. ** Mark Gluth, Hey, Mark! The trip was crazed great. If you ever get the chance to go Iceland and travel around, grab it fiercely. The broken ribs are a total drag, but, you know, what can you do but stuffer stoically or whatever. I'll have to ask Gisele about future theater piece shows. I know that 'Ktl' went really well in NYC, and I think she said that has lead to some new possible US gigs, but I'll try to find out when I see her. Yay, about the videos of you and MANCY! Can't wait to watch them very shortly. In the meantime, I'll share, duh. Everyone, Here's a serious treat. If you watch the two videos that I'll lead you towards in a moment, you'll get to see both author Mark Gluth and visual artist/musician MANCY aka Stephen Purtill reading/ performing recently in Bellingham, Washington at the launch gig for Mark's extraordinary new novel 'No Other'. Total fun and mindblow awaits on every level should first click this and then click this. Great! ** Kier, K-ster! I am back, yes! Yeah, the ribs thing sucks. I'm in pain right this very moment, though I'm trying not to let it show too much. Three weeks to feel better, but six weeks until I can pick up something heavy or shimmy and shake. Lucifer, ha ha, nice. Oh, I like both your shark and its swoony pose! Based on the photos, I think know what "karding/karing" is, or I mean I've seen it. It's boring? Favorite thing in Iceland, wow. I'll have to give you a handful, 'cos I can't pick one. Mm, riding ATVs wildly over lava fields and black sand beaches and through ponds and hidden valleys; snowmobiling on a glacier in the middle of blizzard; exploring an ice cave formed in/by a glacier; exploring a lava tube cave that was the inspiration for the cave to the center of the earth in 'Journey to the Center of the Earth'; our car getting stuck in the snow by this amazing thermal plant/factory at night and getting scared we would die there or something and then getting accidentally discovered and towed out by this guy we kind of believe was a troll or an elf. There were a lot of great things. My day yesterday was good. Zac and I met up with Kiddiepunk and Oscar B., and we went to the Paul McCarthy Chocolate Factory, which none of them had been to yet, and it was really great, and we had big fun. Then I hurried over to Pere Lachaise to meet up with the brilliant young UK filmmaker James Batley, whose work I've showcased here on the blog, to be filmed/interviewed in the pouring rain in front of a tomb for some website, and that was cool but awfully wet. By then my ribs were starting to kill me, so I limped home on the metro, pain-killered up, and tried to do some work. I bought Zac and me tickets to see Iceage. I texted with him and did sone emailing and stuff. Then ate, crashed. It wasn't a bad at all. How was your Tuesday, buddy? ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Ben. Well, I would hope that he would have thought the Vines idea is a great idea because it is! I do remember that your favorite Viz character is Terry Fuckwitt, strangely. I'll check that new strip out. Everyone, here's _B_A: 'You may remember that my fave Viz comic character is Terry Fuckwitt. Maybe not, but he is, and there's a sublime strip been uploaded onto their website today. What I love is how very meta it is: each panel just flips the narrative as it goes along until the whole story collapses in on itself.' ** Keaton, Hey. I am. It's true. Oh, but I am a strange landscape myself, ha ha. Family ghost, whoa, like ... what did it, like, do or say or whatever? Sweet trip plans. Paris near Xmas time, it doesn't get no more beautiful here than it is then, seriously. Big hug back. ** Zach, Hi, Zach! it was totally really nice to see you outside the 'Ktl' show. Definitely. And that's so awesome that you not only liked it but liked it in such a sharp, awesome way. Stephen will of course love "the most metal shit i had ever seen", so I'll tell him. Thank you really a lot, man. Yeah, man, hang out here, let's blab about stuff. It would be great! ** Misanthrope, Big M and big G! Broken ribs are most highly not recommended as an injury even to those who seek injuries like some of those fellows yesterday. Really glad you dug 'Ktl' again. It sounds like you had a blast in NYC, very cool, and you obviously saw some sweet folks. My pleasure about the yen. Now I've got some Icelandic bills if those intrigue him at all. 6 of you, wow. Yikes. Good move on the home teaching. Little dude needs some exercise for his exciting brain, that's for sure. Great to be back and have you back too, buddy. ** Torn porter, Hi, man! Fim editing is underway, and we'll see. So far so good. As far as I can tell, the 'Ktl' shows went really well. We got nothing but excellent reviews, and that's unusual. The mood of my Autumn has been superb. It has. Broken ribs being the only fucked aspect, but hey. I have not seen 'Birdman'. Have you? Thoughts, if so? Much love back, and give my hearty wave to Ratty. Is she there with you? Where is she? ** Kyler, Hi! Oh, horror, 'Dennis lover', Jesus. I'm fighting the strong urge to retire that term, if that's the case. Ugh. Paris has good cemeteries, that's for sure. Full of exciting former people. Fingers crossed on the awards submissions! ** Okay. Today I give you my latest gig of music that I've been liking a whole lot in recent times, and that's the entire intro and explanation for the post, which is surely enough. See you tomorrow.

4 books I read recently & loved: Jeremy M. Davies FANCY, Lindsay Hunter Ugly Girls, Beau Rice TEX, Jac Jemc A Different Bed Every Time

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Where did the idea come from for the book?

Jeremy M. Davies: Exposure to cosmic rays. Living in Central Illinois for altogether too long. Daring myself to write a book without using any similes or falling back on my usual tricks. A casual conversation with a couple of cat-owners about the perils of leaving over-complicated instructions for the people they’d gulled into taking care of their pets. Which led me for some reason to speculate in turn on the (comedic, ontological) potential of leaving instructions that, like Conlon Nancarrow’s player-piano rolls, could never actually be performed by a human being, or that, like certain compositions by La Monte Young (among others) function more along the lines of a “happening,” without a concrete or controllable result intended (release six butterflies into the room while petting cat #7 lengthwise with a dough whisk). And then, further, imagining how a person confronted with such instructions might react, if he or she took them in deadly earnest and read into them some greater significance. What it might mean, indeed, to live or think in such a way that something so formal yet inconsequential and ridiculous might creep out into your life and even the world at large and start wrecking up the joint.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

JMD: My first novel, Rose Alley, is rotten with cinema (or cinephilia, I guess). I don’t think I left much room for adaptation here. I have no idea how anyone would go about it, so I’ve never given it any thought, nor would I know how to begin. (That said: Ben Rivers, call me …)

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

JMD: I can write very long sentences, you know. How about: “Fancy purports to be a series of instructions given by an elderly shut-in to a young couple who’ve come to pet-sit his many cats while he’s away on an uncharacteristic trip abroad; but his continual comic, erotic, and surreal digressions range far from his intended subject, leading to hints that something sinister underlies his peculiar lifestyle, and that his protégés’ duties might not be entirely as advertised.”

Or, if you prefer, Henry James’s Wittgenstein’s Mistress?
Or, H. P. Lovecraft’s Cat Care Essentials?

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

JMD: About four years.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

JMD: The absence of anyone or anything to inspire me to write a saner one.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

JMD: It has some pretty filthy bits for all it isn’t meant to rely on the same tools as Rose Alley, which is “purple verging on blue,” as they say. There’s also a fair amount of slapstick, repetition, philosophy, and strange happenings on trains. Oh, and cats. Probably.








Jeremy M. Davies FANCY
Ellipsis Press

'An elderly shut-in delivers a series of pet-sitting instructions to a young couple who’ve come to watch over his many, many cats. A story (or series of stories) about the ways that methodical, abstract systems interface with messy, personal obsessions, Fancy is a kissing cousin to the work of both the late Henry James and the early Thomas Bernhard: an object lesson in how our need to make sense of the world winds up devouring it whole.'-- Ellipsis Press

'Whether it dissolves a genre or invents a new one, Fancy will be the most weirdly riveting and beautifully composed book you read this year. In an unlikely literary sleight-of-hand, Jeremy M. Davies transforms an agoraphobe’s catsitting instructions into a virtuoso meditation on being, perception, and solitude. He has written an utterly original novel with the fever of a Bernhard monologue and the command of a Schoenberg score.'— Eric Lundgren


Excerpt

Rumrill said: On a day when my employer still remembered his wife, he told me the story of how she and he had reacted to the news, conveyed by our neighborhood doctor, that she would not live to see the end of whatever season it then was when she and he had wended down their sovereign thoroughfares to his (the doctor’s) examination room. The Brocklebanks had walked through the snow or dandelions to consult the doctor on the subject of those pains which occurred regularly in that part of Mrs. Brocklebank’s body of which she had lately been given cause to complain.

He added: Or do I need to slow down.

Rumrill said: Husband and wife removed their boots at the boot-check in the doctor’s anteroom, a space sunk the depth of an upright man into the ground, this upright man’s head at the level perhaps of the second internode of an immature Taraxacum—in which a collection of other white- or red-faced townspeople were already seated in the smell of worms and melted ice. Doctors are privileged to enter into contact with all strata of society, grouped as it is in large part into families of different sizes, possessed of bank accounts of different sizes, and checkbooks imprinted with all manner of watermark.

He added: The image perhaps of a surmullet: the fish used, I’ve read, as a primitive sort of television by the ancient Romans, on account of the many vibrant colors it turned as it suffocated and expired in the air.

Rumrill said: Our town doctor, perhaps of a mind to see what colors Mrs. Brocklebank might turn as she expired, agreed to see her ahead of the other citizens in his anteroom, other patients who had been there longer but whose families were not yet friendly—or not yet friendly enough—with their friendly GP: a man in late middle age whose kited, crenellated ears these recent initiates into the ranks of the unwell found comic, which fact they marshaled the vigor to comment upon even as they felt their vis vitalis sapped by whatever symptoms they had trekked through our lurid streets to ask said comically eared physician to diagnose. Seated and frustrated with the sight of Mrs. Brocklebank ushered with conciliation into the examination room when by all rights these other patients should have preceded her, the townspeople scowled through their rheum in piqued accusation of the husband, abandoned, as he brushed or rebrushed the snow or pollen stains off of his two boots.

He added: With an east-coast newspaper.

Rumrill said: The doctor in no time pronounced Mrs. Brocklebank to be host to a disorder not uncommon whose name and other particulars escape me. He told her, in short, that the processes that constituted Mrs. Brocklebank, citizen and organism, had in their wisdom and for a change of pace decided to leave off their usual obligations and turn instead to the ingestion of this same Mrs. Brocklebank—a decision not at all characteristic of said processes, given that the perpetuation of precisely this Mrs. Brocklebank had been their one notable responsibility to date—and then build with those same resources that had once been devoted to Brocklebankian continuity some other item or function or entity that, unhappily, was not quite the triumph of design that was our Mrs. Brocklebank, whatever her flaws, not least her terrible posture, and would therefore in its construction end with the probably unintentional murder-suicide of both the tenuous concatenation still named, despite this metamorphosis, “Mrs. Brocklebank” (and which would, tragically, remain enough of a Mrs. Brocklebank throughout the procedure to be aware of and suffer through the untenability of this incomplete and ill-considered reconfiguration of said resources), as well as those very systems that had decided, for reasons of their own, to undertake this desperate improvisation.

He added: And which could not be reasoned with.

(continued)











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'Readers familiar with Lindsay Hunter’s short fiction are well aware of the bursts of electricity packed into what are often only a few pages. In two collections of stories—the small press release Daddy’s and FSG’s Don’t Kiss Me—Hunter lays claim to being one of the premiere creators of voice-driven, often first-person narratives while chronicling an assortment of characters whose lives are far from luxurious. Hunter’s first novel, Ugly Girls, employs a similar format, composing short chapters that while having the feel of short stories ultimately work in favor of crafting a much long, richer story. Unlike a majority of her short stories though, Hunter writes Ugly Girls in third-person, and while the switch might jar long time followers, the shift in perspective gives Hunter greater range to explore a cast of unique and fascinating characters. The raw and vivid language that makes Hunter such a distinctive talent remain, however, and such trademarks make Ugly Girls the perfect novel for adventurous readers in search of wild, unexpected, shockingly-original fiction ...

'Also of note, Hunter’s expertise with language should appeal to many readers. There’s a feeling of simplicity in much of Hunter’s prose as she never extends beyond the vocabulary of the people she writes of. And yet while seemingly unassuming, Hunter still succeeds in capturing an image in just the right tone: “The rising sun the color of pineapple candy, no more than a fingernail at the horizon” comes early in the novel as Perry and Baby Girl wrap up an overnight joyriding excursion; later, in describing Perry’s stepfather Jim from the Jamey’s perspective, Hunter writes that he “was made of engine parts and cogs and second hands on the inside, this man everyone would tell you was one of the good ones right up until you felt a sting across the back of your knees.” The language is, perhaps to some, vulgar in places but yet also rather authentic, given the characters Hunter writes about, and although some may find it off-putting, readers willing to challenge themselves will find a great appreciation in the way Hunter crafts flawed but believable characters.

'In her third book and first novel, Lindsay Hunter continues to be at the forefront of a group of distinct and unique female voices establishing themselves in American fiction, and like the works of Amelia Gray, Alissa Nutting, Mary Miller, and Elizabeth Ellen, Ugly Girls offers a challenging and rewarding reading experience likely to be enjoyed by the most vigorous and audacious of readers.'-- Books & Whatnot








Lindsay Hunter Ugly Girls
Farrar, Straus and Giroux

'Perry and Baby Girl are best friends, though you wouldn’t know it if you met them. Their friendship is woven from the threads of never-ending dares and power struggles, their loyalty fierce but incredibly fraught. They spend their nights sneaking out of their trailers, stealing cars for joyrides, and doing all they can to appear hard to the outside world.With all their energy focused on deceiving themselves and the people around them, they don’t know that real danger lurks: Jamey, an alleged high school student from a nearby town, has been pining after Perry from behind the computer screen in his mother’s trailer for some time now, following Perry and Baby Girl’s every move—on Facebook, via instant messaging and text,and, unbeknownst to the girls, in person. When Perry and Baby Girl finally agree to meet Jamey face-to-face, they quickly realize he’s far from the shy high school boy they thought he was, and they’ll do whatever is necessary to protect themselves.

'Lindsay Hunter’s stories have been called “mesmerizing… visceral … exquisite” (Chicago Tribune), and in Ugly Girls she calls on all her faculties as a wholly original storyteller to deliver the most searing, poignant, powerful debut novel in years.'-- FSG


Excerpt

Perry and Baby Girl were in the car they’d stolen not half an hour before. A red Mazda. Looked fancier than it was, had to use hand cranks to put the windows down. Perry gathered it probably belonged to someone who wanted to look fancy but couldn’t squeeze enough out her sad rag of a paycheck. Like how for years Myra, her mother, kept a dinged-up Corvette because it was red and a two-door. Couldn’t even get the tiny trunk open without a crow-bar. Then Jim came along with his logic and calm and sense and had it scrapped. Myra drove a mint-green Tercel now. Four doors. No dings.

Perry knew the Mazda was a woman’s car ’cause of all the butts in the ashtray, all tipped with lipstick. Baby Girl had lit one up first thing, held it between her teeth, squinting through the smoke, cranked down the window so she could rest an elbow. Baby Girl with her half-shaved head, her blond eyelashes, her freckled arm resting on the steering wheel. Fake-ass thug. Sometimes it seemed mean thoughts were all Perry had for Baby Girl, but when she caught sight of herself in the side mirror she saw she was doing all the same shit.

They’d turned onto the busted-up highway, Baby Girl swerving like they were in a go-kart so the Mazda wouldn’t get a flat. The rising sun the color of a pineapple candy, no more than a fingernail at the horizon. Not a single other car to be seen.

Baby Girl was muttering along with the music meandering out of the speakers. You want some / you gonna have to take some / and I’ma get mine. This was her favorite line. Her motto. She tried to make it Perry’s also but Perry was not into that shit.

Perry was annoyed. Tired. Felt like her skin was turning to dough. Her legs and arms and heart, all starting to give in. The clock said 6:25 a.m. Eight hours and twenty-five minutes past when Perry said she was going to bed. She’d have to explain herself to Jim and Myra when she got home. She hated explaining herself, ’cause most of it was stuff she’d have to make up.

She’d meant to do right. She’d meant to stay in bed and fall asleep like Jim wanted, ’cause she liked Jim. But she made the mis- take of opening her window, hoping it would cool her room down. All it did was let more hot air in, let her hear the quiet outside her window, the stillness she could not stand. The windows in the nearby trailers were mostly dark but for the flicker of a television, and it was like she had to do something, something other than turning out the light and closing her eyes and letting the night pass on by, like Myra. She had to make something happen.

And plus she’d got that text from Baby Girl. Lets do this. They had no plan. Just a general desire, like always.

It was easy to creep out of the trailer. Perry didn’t even ease her window shut like she usually did. She knew Myra wouldn’t be able to hear over her program, and Jim had gone to work his night shift at the prison. Even if Myra did hear, it was unlikely she would do anything about it. Just keep sipping her beer and snuggle down tighter under the covers.

Baby Girl had been standing by the pay phone at the Circle K. Her arms moving in that fluid way, heavy and slow, like she was thrashing underwater. She had her music on. When she saw Perry she yelled, “Wadup wadup?”

Baby Girl didn’t care how people saw her. In fact, she wanted them to be afraid. Like how people used to act around Charles, only worse. Once, the greeter at Walmart told them they had to leave if they were just going to stand by the doors acting a fool and not buying nothing. “Suck my dick,” Baby Girl told her.

(continued)



Interview with Lindsay Hunter


from "Don't Kiss Me," by Lindsay Hunter


Breakfast With the Author Episode 5: Lindsay Hunter and Natalie Edwards




__________________




'A Los Angeles artist has just published a book of his private e-mails and Gchat conversations—so maybe it's time to start using the "off-the-record" option. As reported by Complex, Beau Rice's Tex compiles messages sent to and from friends, family, colleagues, and even strangers over the course of 18 months.

'The publisher, Penny-Ante Editions, calls the project "a performance act in print," describing the likely-unwitting participation of Rice's Gmail contacts as "walk-ons by various interlocutors." The 255-page tome spares no indignity, providing uncensored records of Rice's attempts to arrange a casual encounter with an out-of-towner looking for BDSM and mummification, and of an embarrassing foot injury sustained while practicing ballet in a bathtub.

'Though artnet News can't imagine that all of Rice's contacts will be pleased to see their correspondence published in such a public forum, the artist sees the project as a commentary on how the nature of relationships is rapidly evolving in the Internet age.

'"Technology has birthed a paradoxical space between isolation and connectivity, profoundly expanding the possibilities for how and with whom we create intimacy," reads the book's description. As the conversations we conduct via the Internet become more and more pervasive in our every day lives, we may have to chose between adjusting our expectations for privacy, or altering our habits.

'The question of privacy is sure to make this project controversial, but most will likely relate to at least some of the conversations Rice shares, such as his surreptitious on-the-job Gchatting. "i'm being a horrible employee by texting you right now," reads one excerpt. "i'm like crouched behind the register counter, hiding."' -- Sarah Cascone, artnet








Beau Rice TEX
Penny-Ante Editions

'In the twenty-first century, relationships have been transformed in unprecedented ways. Technology has birthed a paradoxical space between isolation and connectivity, profoundly expanding the possibilities for how and with whom we create intimacy.

'An experiment between the epistolary and the ectype, Tex is a performance act in print. Featuring walk-ons by various interlocutors, this mnemonic outpour examines the potentiality of relationships in the digital age. Metonymic displacements, grammatical violations and verbal spillage form this rowdy non-narrative documenting one LA artist’s sexual exploits, an evolving attachment to Texas-based former fling, Matt G, and the determination and opportunism involved with the continually forthcoming publication of this, his first book.

'Rated X for strong language and sexual content.' -- Penny-Ante Editions


Excerpt
from Dazed Digital

[Thu, May 23, 1:28PM]

FROM: JAME-------@HOTMAIL.COM

TO: beaubeauricerice@—.com

Nice posting. Very dominant and like a boy in his place. I’m not into fucking... more into having you completely immobile - hands, feet, cock/balls tied, blindfolded, gagged. Once securely bound, then I like to experiment with cbt/tt - clothespins, hot wax, ben gay, more. Also love a guy in mummification - saran wrap and duct tape. How much discipline can you take... like to push you until you are in tears. I respect all limits… just need to know them upfront. Can I have you bound all night? I get up at 6am :)

I’m 47, 6’1, 177, 33w, 41c, smooth, gay, ddf/neg. I’m in town (I come here weekly for work) and can host at my hotel – Westin LAX. Would love an ongoing boy to train.

Send pics and if you are interested.

Far from the Westin? Very serious... no BS.

FROM: beaubeauricerice@—.com

TO: JAME-------@HOTMAIL.COM

Hey Sir, thanks for the response.

You sound like fun, I really like the things You mention here (not so into mummification, but not completely opposed to it either). Here are some photos. Do you have BDSM gear with you at the hotel?

[Attachment: Three Beau selfies]

FROM: JAME-------@HOTMAIL.COM

TO: beaubeauricerice@—.com

Traveling so I don’t.... Could you pick up some rope, clothespins, etc.? I could pay you back... Otherwise I could go out before you come. Can I have you bound all night? Limits? Most into? Very serious here.

FROM: JAME-------@HOTMAIL.COM

TO: beaubeauricerice@—.com

Hi...I just checked and there is a home depot 5mins away. I could pick up plenty of toys for tonight. Interested? Game?

FROM: beaubeauricerice@—.com

TO: JAME-------@HOTMAIL.COM

Interested but not sure, at least not about tonight. Sorry to do this but let me get back to you in a bit, I’m about to go out shopping for a bit.

[Sun, Sep 22, 2013 9:35PM]

BEAU R

[Photo: A shiny purple cane on the ground]

i am using a cane

MATT G

What happened

BEAU R

i was doing ballet moves in a

hot tub with ryan T

(famedrop? sars) and i tore a

ligament attached to my big toe.

MATT G

Is that real

BEAU R

yeah

MATT G

You would have a cane

BEAU R

why

MATT G

I dunno i can see you

getting beaten up or

having too much fun

--------------------------------------------

[Sun, Sep 23, 2013 4:21PM]

FROM: beaubeauricerice@—.com

TO: GOODBO—@—.com, K—@—.com

Hey bosses,

Last night I was doing ballet moves in a hot tub (I know) and I injured my foot. It’s swollen and sore and I can’t put any weight on it at all. The Internet seems to indicate that I tore a ligament attached to my big toe. It’s a bummer.

Tomorrow morning I’m going to see a podiatrist who will hopefully give me a clear prognosis. I don’t think this should cause me to miss any shifts, and I’m still planning to go to New York this week, but I wanted to let y’all know now because I’ll probably be limited to cashier work and other low-mobility activity for about four weeks. I’ll stay in touch as I learn more. And you can expect me to come in tomorrow night on crutches.

; /,

Beau



TEX Book Trailer








___________________




'The prose of some books keeps you at arm’s length. Resists the idea of transparency or security. Dares you to look deeper to find meaning. The sentences in Jac Jemc’s collection, A Different Bed Every Time, require untangling. Sentences like, “Your body flood us and we rocks and fogs, delivering. The climate outside our body are a busy woman,” dare us to think about the certainties of language and structure we take for granted. Jemc’s is not light or easy prose, but prose that is beautiful and complex. And worth the effort.

'There’s something to be said for an author creating an experience of reading that acts as a physical manifestation of her character’s lives. Jemc does this in A Different Bed Every Time. She translates the distressing emotional entanglements of character into the reading process itself. We, her readers, feel frustration and alienation on the same level as her characters. Jemc’s sentences, fraught with the juxtaposition of generalities and uniquely specific metaphors, are a mirror for each character’s angst. These sentences require us as readers to sort through complexity; it’s a reflection of the way the characters look at the world. ...

'Jemc writes emotion with naked honesty, but often comes to concrete images or analogies in a roundabout way. Her collection is unique for its command of unusual imagery. Jemc never goes for the easy comparison or the simple metaphor. What this means is her sentences require more time. More attention. Does this result in meaning that lies just out of our reach from time to time? Yes, but this is only a way to encourage us to read more carefully. To look deeper.

'This is a collection that’s hard to read in a sitting. I found that the punches of each story, and so many stories in succession, were almost too much to take in in at once. Jemc’s stories are rough. Unapologetic. And they’re not easy or transparent. But read in doses, they reveal something about not just the characters, but how we as readers want to read character in a story. What’s comfortable for us as readers? Why might an author want to shake that foundation? How can an author push language to be more complex? Jemc presents something hyper-ordinary in A Different Bed Every Time.'-- Heather Scott Partington, The Rumpus








Jac Jemc A Different Bed Every Time
Dzanc Books

'A thief steals the air from a room. Children invent a nursery rhyme to make sense of their fate, and a band of girls rot from the outside in. These characters stumble through joy and murder and confusion, only to survive and wait for the next catastrophe to arrive. Moments so brief and disturbing you can’t afford to look away.'-- Dzanc Books

'To Jemc the world is a place where each person, every human cypher, must devour another. What then can we do, if we are devoured, if we are overcome with our own devouring? Her escape plan is inspired and ancient -- to become protean, to dwell in costume after costume, parcelling away the truth that can be found in each. But where is it hid? Ask her, though she may not say.'— Jesse Ball


Excerpt
from The Nervous Breakdown

The Wrong Sister

Okay. Say the reason you’re stuck here in limbo is totally unclear to you. Say you were a woman who cared about little but treated others basically well. Say you had a twin who was married to a doctor, but because you were so ambivalent, you never agreed to partner up, never liked anyone enough to commit or even give someone a real chance, to ever approach the situation where you might have to explain these feelings to another human being because you’ve joined to have and to hold, in sickness and in blah blah blah…

But every once in a while, because it seems harmless and because sometimes your sister needs a break and because you gave up on that theater degree long ago but missed the thrill of lying, of being genuinely dishonest—let’s say ever year or two you relieve your sister, and unbeknownst to her husband you replace her for a week or two, tops. Your sister’s husband is the most crass and unpolished doctor you’ve ever met. He’s a rube with a medical degree. You don’t even recall the branch of medicine, so uninvolved and detached are your interactions even when you’re pretending to be his wife. Somehow this man is actually a really good doctor—top of his field, full of expertise.

You live in a big city in a small neighborhood when you’re playing his wifey. When you’re you, you live on the other side of town. No one really knows you. The grocery store clerk might recognize you if you smiled at her once in a while, but as earlier stated, you’re a bit heartless, so you haven’t. Most people who see you assume you’re your sister on a bad day. Let’s say your sister comes to you and tells you her husband’s really in a 39 mood lately and though she still loves him, to be around him right now is to tear her hair out. “Please,” she says, “Be me.”

You shrug. Agree to it. Let her know what’s going on at work, switch cellphones, squeeze into those pointy-toed shoes she thinks are chic, erase yourself into her. Drive in her car, to her house, and get ready for a week off. Cook some lobsters for dinner, listen to their screams without interest. Smile at the rooftop garden, at her husband’s color-coded tie rack, at that godforsaken dog confined to the laundry room.

When her husband gets home, you know what she means immediately: he’s acting up. His eyes clock around, avoiding your face, landing on it at every quarter hour and ticking away. His facial hair seems mangy and patchy—like he’s been letting the razor slide around willy-nilly. He unloads groceries and you’re surprised he’s done shopping. This doesn’t seem like him, but then you see that it’s nothing to be floored by: ten pounds of center-cut rib-eye, two hundred massive garbage bags, straws, beef jerky, a box of donuts. You look at him, and in your best impersonation of your sister, you say, “What the hell is all this?” He grabs the bundle of zip ties from you, and replies curtly that it’s stuff he needed from the store that you (your sister) had not gotten for him. You pluck the lobster from the warmer and say, “Dinner, mon cher, is served.” He plops himself down and before you have properly buttered your meal, he’s inhaled his and is heading towards the garage. “You’re welcome,” you call, and his response is an insouciant, “Fuck you.”

You know what’s going to happen before it does, and you don’t do anything to stop it. He’s down in the garage with his supplies defining the margins of his sanity. He’s making illegible decisions and convincing himself he’ll decipher the handwriting later. Here is your sister’s husband, your husband, for the sake of the rest of the story, and he’s planning her demise, your demise, accordingly. And you know it’ll be complicated for your sister when all of this unravels: but there’re no children involved so you say, “What the hell?’”

You wonder about your sister’s blaming herself but figure she’d rather feel guilty than dead. You, however, are ambivalent. Here’s what will happen. Your husband will come upstairs and apologize. He’ll ask if you want to go get a drink. He’s had a wretched week. You’ll say, “Where?” He’ll say, “How about we just head around the corner to Ray’s?” You’ll say, “Sure,” and head for the garage. He’ll rush after you, pull your arm, suggest you just walk. The car’s been acting funny. You can imagine what he’s got laid out in preparation in the garage already. Trash bags, cutting tools. If he’s smart: some lye. God love this man and his nutty streaks. He has no idea anyone is onto him, least of all, his victim. You think how foolish he is to do it in the garage— the concrete will stain— but it’s not your problem. You think of calling your sister and saying something cryptic that might ease her guilt after the fact, but decide it might be too fishy. You want her free and clear of this nut job ASAP.

Birds glide beneath your skin. For a moment, you think, who’s the nut now? You’re convinced this joker’s gonna kill you tonight. What? Suddenly you’re clairvoyant? But you know too well; he has that calm about him where he’s sure of himself and he doesn’t need to do any convincing—he just needs to let the story unravel.

The birds keep chirping, but you’re still convinced you cannot get gone enough. He’s sure this will solve all his problems, but you know this gesture will be read like a waste land. It doesn’t matter what’s been or what will be. Tenses have been paved over.

Say you walk to Ray’s. You sneak to the bathroom. You examine your face in the mirror. You’re pretty sure you don’t believe in an afterlife, but in the event there is such a thing, who knows if you’ll be able to see anything, much less your own face. You look at the blue-flame tinted circles beneath your eyes. You think of all the deaths you’ve avoided: the canoe trip in the storm, the mugging, that time your appendix jammed itself huge into the rest of you. All incongruous warnings for the decision you’re making right now.

You look a little longer. No, you’re not getting sentimental, but you want to make sure there’s enough time for the sedative to dissolve in your drink. You don’t want to wake too early to a gray foggy cloud of your own bright scarlet. You don’t want to see the brownish tint of you as the yellow pages sop up your gore.

You emerge, and the bartender gives you a look like he has a secret he knows he should tell you, but you look away quickly so he doesn’t feel implicated. The whiskey barks down your throat all familiar-like, but husband is all fanned eyebrows and tilted breath.

You gulp the drink down and smile at husband and bring his hand to your mouth for a kiss. It is sweaty, but you make nothing of it.

The rest is blurry: you get loopy and other patrons notice. Husband takes you home. He butchers your somnolent self like a fine-boned rabbit. He flushes fourteen pounds of you down the toilet. He files a missing person’s report and your sister grows confused. They never find the rest of you.

Stories start coming out around the neighborhood: large purchases of rubber gloves, trash bags, knives and saws. A regular at Ray’s says he saw the two of you there and tells how you’d gotten wiped out with one glass of whiskey. Husband’s office reports missing quantities of sedation samples.

The police find the wad of your muscle and fat in the septic tank, but your husband’s lawyer argues a person could survive the loss of this much flesh. He charms the grand jury into thinking the evidence is inconclusive. Turns out it doesn’t matter if people recognize you buying the damning supplies. Husband remains a practicing physician in the free world. Your sister can see what happened, and as soon as the trial is over, she runs as far away as possible to start a new life.

About a day after you’re chopped to bits, you wake up in some mental state at Ray’s, bodiless. “This must be the ghost life,” you think. But you never cared about anything. What could you have to settle? And here? Say this boredom is eternal. “Well, then,” you think half-heartedly, “all these men are stuck smoking with the wrong sister.”



Jac Jemc interviewed


Jac Jemc reads her short story "Filch and Rot"


The Great Writers Steal Experience: Jac Jemc




*

p.s. Hey. ** Jonathan, Hey, J! Ha ha, I am, re-cooperating, it seems, based on the gradually lessening ughs. Trip was insane. Happy to tell you about it, for sure. Let's meet up asap! Really glad you liked Katie Gately. I just discovered her stuff recently and ... yeah, pretty great. I want to hear the new Andy Stott. Cool. How've you been? Yeah, let's hang and see/do something. Call/text me, or I'll do the same. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. Wow, that's a nice compliment to me. About the mind meld with Mr. Delaney. I was on a panel with him once, but we never actually met. ** Sypha, My pleasure on the shout out. Your album is cued-up for the next break I take during my theater piece writing. Today. E.M. Cioran ... you know what? Maybe I haven't read him? I've meant to. I'll try to find that ' ... Despair' book, thanks. Well, I'm personally glad you're giving Blake's book a shot since you know I'm a giant fan of him and of that novel. As a writer who restudies and re-explores motifs a fair amount, I say sometimes you have to trust that a motif, i.e. Blake's 'haunted house' thing, is complex and rich to the writer, and that it's not a matter of relying on it in a lazy way, but rather an obsessive belief that it forms a conducive framework in which to get at other stuff. Or something. But a writer has to earn a reader's trust, and that's always the reader's call. Anyway, cool. ** Tosh Berman, Hi! I haven't talked to Benjamin in a while, so I don't know, but my guess, knowing him well, would be that he hasn't really thought about that aspect yet? ** Kyler, Hi. X-rated ... oh, yes, my imagination quite quickly fills in that blank, although, since most of my initial conjectures seem to involve the word 'dick', ... well, I was going to say that seems kind of un-DC's, but, in fact, I guess it's only un-DC, i.e. un-me, not un-you guys. Honestly, I don't like Paul Auster's work one little bit. Nope. But he's important to you, so I'll keep my reasons in my throat or my head or wherever they are. ** Steevee, Yeah, it's perpetually strange to me that documentaries don't have the same shot at theater release as fiction films given that TV, which I guess is the most immediate graph of public taste, is full of non-fiction. Anyway, I'm going to hunt the films down. Some of them might get super-limited releases in Paris, but I'll have to keep my eyes peeled. Grauerholz is, or, at least was, a big jerk, and a jerk of the myopic kind who wouldn't even realize that he was coming off like a jerk. ** Nicki, Hi, Nicki! Very glad to hear you're fine. I'm ever improving and the volume on my ouches is ever lowering. Love to you! ** Bernard Welt, Hey, B! Yeah, third time for me on the broken ribs front. Strange. They seem to be mending as far as I can tell. Let me see if I can find 'The Big Snooze' online somewhere. Are you publishing the series on dream-related films somewhere seeable? Either privately or publicly? ** Bill, Hi. Thanks much about the gig selection. Yeah, Ashely Paul is really nice. All credit to The Wire on that one. My painkillers are the usual codeine-inflected paracetamol things. They work-ish. At least I'm not avalanching them down my throat like I was for a while. But, yeah, broken ribs are just annoying mostly. ** Kier, Hey, hey!Yeah, I don't think I actually shimmy and shake even when I'm a fireball of health, or, if I do, it's really subtle. Maybe I should. Hm. A photo of Lucifer would be sweet! I wish I could follow you around while you worked on that farm. I promise that I would be as quiet as a mouse. Fir wreaths ... oh, like Xmas wreaths? Is Norway really into Xmas? Man, Iceland sure is. Reykjavik had, like, six Xmas stores, and it's not a very big city. And they had these red mailboxes everywhere where you could send letters to Santa Claus. Bardufoss, I've heard of that. I can't remember why. We saw the Northern Lights, as I think I told you. But it was just a couple of green streaks, not that that wasn't cool. Oh, thank you, thank you for the A4 'Wonderful Witches'. Thank you!!! Yesterday, ... first I tried to work on the theater piece because I'm so far behind and there's so much to do, and I was semi-successful, and I need to pick up the pace today. I made a blog post. I'm in a big scramble to fill up the blog's future at the moment. So most of the day was work stuff. In the afternoon, I met up with my friend Josh who's this young amazing artist who I met years ago when he stayed here at the Recollets for a bit. He's briefly in Paris, and it was awesome to see him and catch up. Then ... oh, I had thought Xiu Xiu was playing here at the end of the month, and Zac and I were planning to go and hopefully hang out with Jamie Stewart, but I found out too late last night that they were playing last night, so I wrote to Jamie to say, shit, I fucked up, and asked if Zac and me could meet up with him today, but he wrote back and said that he left Paris right after the show, so that sucked. Mm, if anything else happened, I can't remember. I'll try to have illustrative fun today. In the meantime, please illustrate your day, if you don't mind. ** Etc etc etc, Hi, Casey. Thanks. Full-court blitz mode is exciting. I like that mode. Fingers crossed re: every one of your fronts. I didn't know or I spaced out  about the DFW Reader book, huh. Gotta get that. Thank you for the tip, yes. Oh, I have projects galore at the moment: writing theater piece, editing our film, novel, this and that. I'm pretty locked down re: work for the next while. Cool, send me stuff, and I'll make myself check my email. I will. ** Tomkendall, Hi, Tom! Fingers crossed until full entanglement that the news from that agency is very good. Oh, gosh, please use this space, yes! I'll go investigate that crowd funder myself, and, in the meantime, ... Everyone, please listen up. The superb writer and dude and d.l. Tomkendall wants to alert us to something that sounds extremely interesting and worthy of your support and attention. Here he is: 'I was hoping i could use this space (and maybe up above as i still can't get the links in place here… i know i'm a simpleton) to draw attention to a crowd funder my wife is involved in: "The Quipu Project is an interactive documentary about women and men who were sterilised in Peru in the mid-1990s. Many did not give full consent for it to happen. Twenty years later, they are still seeking justice. Using a specially-developed telephone line and web interface, we are working with some of the affected people, providing the framework for them to tell their story in their own words and bringing it to an international audience.The story emerges as the archive of testimonies and responses grows."Quipu Project Website</>, Quipu Project @ Facebook, Quipu Project Fundraiser page @ Indiegogo</>.' Please take some time and check that out today, okay? Thanks! ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Ben. Cool, glad the Katie Gately material intrigued, and, yeah, it's quite unique, I think. You have 4 Art101 episodes nearly ready? That's epic! Really great, man! ** Keaton, Hey. People can't be landscapes? Tell that to my libido, ha ha. Cool, thanks for sneaking out that cemetery report. I like Xmas too, it's weird. Or not weird. No, it's weird. Somehow. I am feeling better. You sound like you're feeling better too. ** Misanthrope, Hi. Yikes, about your brother's coughing damage. Even with my little breakage, coughing is the absolute worst. Wrenching pain spasm every time. Sure, I'll keep the Icelandic bills for LPS or send them to you or something. No prob. Oh, man, obviously, that idea of her home schooling him sounds like a really bad plan, and hopefully you'll talk her into the official alternate plan. Why would she object to that, for goodness sake? ** Chilly Jay Chill, Hi, Jeff! Thanks! I loved the Godard 3D film a lot, really a lot. I keep thinking and thinking about it. 'Burroughs: The Movie' was directed by a very close friend of mine, the late Howard Brookner, so, yes, I know it, and heard/knew a lot about it as Howard was making it. I'm excited to see it again. I remember it being pretty good, and definitely much better than the more recent Burroughs doc of a couple of years back. Me too, re. fashioning a theater piece in fits and starts. I hear and feel you. Yeah, I'll see if Zac will dropbox me a bunch of Iceland photos. He took the great majority of images there. I would really try to spend more than a few days there, if you can. There are amazing things around Reykjavik to see, but, to really get how astounding the country is, it's really, really best to take the time to drive all the way around, which we did in 10 days, although you could do it quicker. The entire country is mindbogglingly beautiful, and a lot of the most incredible places are more than a day-trip out of Reykjavik. ** Terence Hannum, Hi, Terrence! How great to see you here! Well, my total pleasure and honor to get to host your work here. I love that piece and, of course, your work in general. Respect! ** Mark Gluth, Hi, Mark! Dude, seriously, do what you need to do to go to Iceland when you can. It's unbelievable. And spend a fair amount of time there and travel around the country's perimeter by car when you do. We were there just under two weeks. You could do the country and get a good, un-rushed look and feel in about 10 days, I'd say. I get that not being able to breathe thing whenever I climb stairs or go up a hill. Or I did until maybe yesterday. It's scary. And when I fell and smashed my ribs, I literally couldn't breathe for about a minute. I thought my lung had collapsed. Horrible. My pain killers are the non-intoxicating kind. Or I guess very mildly intoxicating. More like befuddling. I'm a big opiate wimp too, thank goodness, I think. ** Right. There are some new books up there that I highly recommend. Peruse their evidence today, if you will. See you tomorrow.

Emitt Rhodes Day

$
0
0
* texts culled from the sites Perfect Sound Forever, Emitt Rhodes Music, & various interviews




'I’ve had all the good stuff, and I’ve have all the bad stuff. Sometimes I’m happy to be alive, and sometimes I couldn’t care less.'-- Emitt Rhodes, 2004

'Most cult heroes are cult heroes by design. Either his or her music is too esoteric to be accepted by the mainstream, or his or her personality too erratic or weird for most people to understand or tolerate. In either respect, the artist usually has sought out selective rather than widespread acceptance on purpose. The cult audience, in turn, is grateful for the opportunity to feel superior to all the stupid, smelly legions of idiots who make up the majority of the music-buying public.

'Then there's people like Emitt Rhodes, who's a cult hero for no good reason whatsoever. Far from obscure, his music is loaded with melodic charisma, that essential ingredient that makes you want to hear some records over and over again. Often called a musical dead ringer for Sir Paul McCartney, Rhodes is really the Macca we all wish Macca would be: an incredible pop tunesmith without all the gooey sentimentality and overflowing cuteness. The crown jewel of Rhodes' small body of work is his self-titled debut album. Released to critical acclaim and modest commercial success in 1970, Emitt Rhodes has since taken on mythical status among power-pop and '70's rock aficionados. The album is a tour-de-force: just like McCartney on his first solo album, Rhodes played all the instruments and sang all the vocals himself. But even more impressive are the songs. Only 20 years old at the time, Rhodes had already absorbed the best of '60s rock and matched it. Lennon/ McCartney certainly weren't writing songs the caliber of "Really Wanted You" or "With My Face on the Floor" at that age. This precocious, good-looking kid should have been unstoppable.







Emitt Rhodes:'For me it's one-four-five. It's Pythagorean Theorum. For me it's mathematics. I love Pythagoras. Everybody else in rock and roll loves Pythagoras, too, even if they don't know it. It's Pythagoras. You split the string in half and you get an octave. You split it into thirds and you get a third. I'm just telling you that Pythagoras was a wonderful guy. He lived a long time ago, nobody knows him and nobody cares. He gave us do re mi fa sol la ti do. Without him... somebody else would have had to do it. I love math. I love science. I love that stuff.'

'But as it turned out, Rhodes was pretty much dead in the water careerwise at 24. A contract dispute raised the ire of his record company, and instead of nurturing a talented and potentially lucrative artist, they ended up giving Rhodes a royal rogering. Chewed up and spat out, Rhodes was burned out before his career really got started. While he's flattered people still care about the music he made 30 years ago, being a self-described "has-been wannabe" doesn't quite sit well with him.





'Born and raised in Hawthorne, California, a bastion of power-pop thanks to homeboys The Beach Boys, Rhodes started with rock 'n' roll in his early teens, playing drums in a band called The Emerals. "My father was really nice," Rhodes said."He let me use the garage. Having a garage was, for a drummer, a really popular thing. Every band needs a place to rehearse and I had one." The Emerals played the local circuit, including Hawthorne High School dances. It was at one of these dances that Rhodes had a run-in with one of his hometown's soon-to-be princes. "Dennis Wilson broke my drum pedal," Rhodes recalled over 35 years later. "He never paid for it or got me a new one. He just broke it and left." The Emerals soon evolved into The Palace Guard, who had a minor hit single called "Falling Sugar."





Emitt Rhodes:'We had the name first. I had green drums. Everybody was looking for any reason to pick a name. I had green drums so they called us the Emerals, and they spelled it wrong. It was seven of us and three of them were brothers. Don Beaudoin was the leader of the band. It was child abuse. D... B... was the same age as I was and he was abused by G... B... who ran the Hullabaloo and who was the head of Orange Empire Records. He fucked him. I was fourteen at the time and I knew, so I would imagine his brothers knew also and that his parents knew too. He was like the sacrificial goat so [we] could get that big plum job at the Hullabaloo. The Palace Guard didn't write our music. I didn't write it either. I wrote songs that the Merry Go Round did later, that were hits to some degree, but I didn't write "Falling Sugar". I have no idea who wrote that, but it wasn't anybody in the band. That was all stuff that was put together by this guy G... B... who liked to fuck D... B... in the butt.'





'Emitt was still the drummer, but he was looking to step out from behind the drum kit and into the spotlight. In 1966, he left The Palace Guard and formed another group with a long name (remember this is mid-60s L.A.) called The Merry-Go-Round. Instead of keeping time, Rhodes was now the guitar-playing frontman and songwriter. Retaining guitarist Gary Kato from his old band, the 16-year-old Rhodes recruited drummer Joel Larson and bassist Bill Rhinehart to complete the line-up.


 photo mgrbig2.jpg
The Merry-Go-Round


'The new group quickly recorded what would be its biggest hit, a Rubber Soul soundalike called "Live." Based on a demo of "Live" and another song called "Clown's No Good," A&M Records signed The Merry-Go-Round and released "Live" as a single. After the song shot to number one in L.A., A&M slapped together a bunch of demos and called it M-G-R's debut album. Called simply The Merry-Go-Round, the album holds up surprisingly well considering the circumstances. "Gonna Fight the War" and "Low Down" are tough guitar songs that rival the best Buffalo Springfield, while more melancholy tracks like "You're A Very Lovely Woman" and "On Your Way Out" out-Big Star Big Star more than three years before #1 Record. Essentially a garage "boy band," The M-G-R nevertheless had a sophisticated sound, due in large part to Rhodes' rapidly developing songwriting ability.







Emitt Rhodes:'My problem is "Live." I've had friends tell me this; I don't really know. The Bangles did it and they put it on compilations and I should have got paid for it, but my publisher sent me a statement saying I didn't, that he took the rights to the song back or something. I look at the contracts I signed when I was a sixteen year old, it's child abuse. My mother and my father signed with me. I just wanted to make music. My mother and father didn't know any better so they just signed with me and I have contracts that say "for perpetuity.""We own these songs for perpetuity." Forever, and I'm going "oh, okay." I was only fourteen, fifteen, sixteen years old and I didn't understand.'

'But by 1969 Rhodes, now 19, grew tired of the inevitable in-fighting that comes with being in a group. He wanted to make music for himself and by himself, so he set up a makeshift studio in a shed behind his parents house. "I bought myself a machine. It was an old four track machine, an Ampex,"Rhodes recalled. "It had huge knobs and giant meters. It was the size of a washing machine. It looked like something out of Flash Gordon."With his brand new four-track, Rhodes began bashing out songs for his first solo album. His desire to record everything himself was practical because he didn't have any money to hire musicians. Alone in the studio he was open to experimentation. "I was a drummer and I had a piano and I had a guitar and I just started there. The next thing I knew I wanted to play the violin and the sax and the flute and the harmonica and the banjo and everything. I'm a tinkerer. I would buy an instrument and an instructional book, and just play scales for an hour a day until I felt comfortable doing it. And then I would write parts. I was more of an arranger I guess."





'With only three mics, two mixers and his four track crowded in the 20 foot long by 10 foot wide shed, recording was a time consuming process. "I had the machine on one end and the drums on the other, and I'd press the record button and run over and sit down and put the phones on. It was pretty rudimentary." As Rhodes assembled the record, he had no idea he was creating his masterpiece. "I was just doing the best I could do, writing what I thought was important at the time."



Emitt Rhodes "Really Wanted You" 1971 Promo Film




'In the middle of working on the album, Rhodes approached ABC/Dunhill with some instrumental tracks. The label signed him and paid Rhodes the princely sum of $5,000. When Emitt Rhodes was released in 1970, it charted at #29 and the single, "Fresh as a Daisy," broke the top 60. Rhodes was hailed by critics as an artist to watch, and with the singer-songwriter movement just underway, his career appear to be on the fast track.

'Maybe too fast. ABC/Dunhill wanted more product from their hot new star, and they wanted it soon. His contract stipulated that he release two albums every year, a feat The Beatles regularly pulled off in their heyday. But unlike the Fab Four, Rhodes was only one person doing everything himself. It was hard work and a lot of pressure for a guy still living with his parents, but ABC/Dunhill was less than understanding. As work on his second album Mirror dragged on for nearly a year, the record company suspended his contract and sued him. "I got in trouble," Rhodes said. "I was being sued for more money than I ever made. It didn't make any sense to me."

'Released in 1971, Mirror bombed, going to only #182 on the charts. While the record boasts some great songs, Rhodes had clearly lost his momentum. "I worked really hard, did the best I could, and I got in trouble. I mean, it's like, what am I doing? What am I doing this for?" he said. "You have to get your dog biscuit after you rollover or sit up. Otherwise you don't want to do it again ... I burned out."Another album, Farewell to Paradise, followed and did even worse on the charts than Mirror. At 24, eight years after he formed The Merry-Go-Round, Rhodes stopped recording. "There were lawsuits and lawyers and I wasn't having any fun anymore. That's it. Simple as that. I worked really hard and there was no reward," he said.









Emitt Rhodes:'I believe in death. It works. It goes black and then you're not there anymore. I've been there a few times. I'm against death. I believe in life. I have my own religion. I'm an atheist. I believe in life being the most important thing there is. Life is it. I believe everybody will agree that life's important. I've been dead so I know what death is. You go black. Kind of whiteout really. Your brain works up until the time that it doesn't work anymore. My afterwards is different than yours might be. My afterwards is I don't have blood sugar. My brain dies. It's like I can't think anymore because I don't have enough blood sugar for my brain to function anymore. The last experience I had is that I was lying in the middle of my room trying not to drown on my own saliva because I couldn't swallow because swallowing means that muscle has blood sugar to do it. I was beyond that.'





'Other than a brief moment in 1980 when he had a record deal with Elektra/Asylum that was eventually terminated, Emitt has stuck to recording demos in his home studio that will probably never the see the light of day. "It's just songs," he said of his demos. "It's melodic. I like melodies that go from one place to the next. I like chords. I can't say what (a new album) would sound like because I haven't heard it yet."

'There was some excitement in the past year among Rhodes' fans when the 50-year-old signed to the small indie label Rocktopia. Rhodes even started pre-production work on what would have been his first record in over 25 years, sorting through his collection of hundreds of demos, and he was planning on hiring musicians instead of doing everything himself. "I wanted to hire people to come play with me and just play producer and songwriter," he said. "I'm an old guy now. I get sleepy at night. I have friends that play so much better than me (and) I just love listening sometimes."





'But his deal with Rocktopia ultimately fell through when the label ran out of money. Without an advance to finance a new record, Rhodes can't move forward. "I have the desire to do it but I don't know if I have the time," he said. "It's on hold at the moment, unless I find a way to support myself without working. I could win the lotto I guess."

Emitt Rhodes:'I met this guy, an enthusiast. Wasn’t a great songwriter. But I liked him, so I thought, well, I’ll help him out and help him write a song. So he gave me this lyric, and I went over the lyric, and there was only one phrase in the whole thing that appealed to me, and that was, ‘Oh Lord, what’s a guy gonna do? What’s a guy supposed to do?’ or something like that. And it was about him waiting for his girlfriend who was upstairs talking on the phone to another girlfriend, and he was getting tired and didn’t want to go out, and anyway, it was complete nonsense, and I changed it to, ‘Oh Lord, what’s a man to do?’ and put it in minor key and sent him home and said, ‘Write some lyrics’. And he came back, and he had written, ‘How long I’ve anguished and set aside what little’s left of my foolish pride’, and I thought that that was so good that I wrote more to it. It all made sense to me; I saw the focus of it. So I kind of kept steering the lyric in that manner, and he would write more, and I’d send him home and he’d write more. Then every once in a while I’d throw a line in there, and then I used [with mock grandiosity] my superior ability in writing chord progressions to write what I thought was a real beautiful chord progression in its own right, even without a melody. And then I put a melody to it, so then I made it my song, you know. And then we went on from there and we did three songs, ’cause going to do just one didn’t seem right. He had this friend who had a studio in an office building, so we went into that studio and started recording. And we were like the first people in it, and I had friends come by and play, and stuff like that. And it was good for his studio, I thought. But this guy was just digging a hole for me to walk into. He handed me a bill. Some people are like, you know, they trip you, and then they call you clumsy.'





'Today Rhodes still lives in the neighborhood where he grew up, in a house across the street from his parents' old house. "I'm just trying to stay alive," he said. "I have a small studio and I rent studio time ... I'm not a rich person. I make a living."'-- collaged

"I was real fortunate. I had two parents who allowed me to make noise as long as it was outside in the garage. I made those records when I had no bills. I didn't have a house at the time. I had very little bills and very little worries at the time. Music was pretty much the focus of my life, just making noise. Now it's making noise to pay the landlord."



Trailer: 'THE ONE MAN BEATLES: The Emitt Rhodes Story'


Emitt Rhodes playing piano in 'One Man Beatles'


EMITT RHODES - LOST PHOTOS AND MEMORIES



Emitt Rhodes Music
Official Emitt Rhodes @ Facebook
Emitt Rhodes Discography
Emitt Rhodes interviewed @ L.A. Record
Emitt Rhodes interviewed @ The LA Beat
Emitt Rhodes interviewed @ SCRAM Magazine
'One Man Beatles' @ imdB
'The Emitt Rhodes Collection'
'Emitt Rhodes Recorded At Home' @ Tape Op




*

p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. Agreed. ** Tosh Berman, Hi, Tosh. Thanks. That Beau Rice event should be nice. How was it? ** Steevee, Hi, Steve. I'm happy to hear that Janus is handing Howard's film, obviously. ** Sypha, I like gloomy, so who knows. I just get irked by inflexible nihilism really. Yeah, I guess my recurring motifs are self-explanatory. Understood about your problem with Blake's 'horror'. I like his usage for the same reasons you don't, I guess, but I never think of his work as 'horror', just as work that employs and occupies 'horror' when necessary or convenient to reach his aim, I guess in the same way that I use, say, the pornographic or certain YA narrative conceits or 'gayness' or etc. in my stuff at times. Anyway, your thoughts on the troubles and positives you have with Blake's stuff is very interesting, and I appreciate your parsing and explaining that. ** Sickly, Hi, man. You know that Rice guy, cool. That's a sharp book he wrote there. How was the launch, and how did he handle presenting the book in a live setting? My ribs are ever so slowly retuning to their basic form, I think. Seems so. Thanks for the pro-health wish. ** Tim Jones-Yelvington, Hi, Tim. Yeah, me too, re: the Jemc and Hunter books. The others in the group were awesome too. Well, obviously I think so, I guess. Love the latest Troyan too, yeah, for sure. I'll get and check out the James Tadd Adcox book. ** Zach, Hi. Yeah, I had kind of that thought about the Rice too, interesting. Huh, you just made Dorothy Wordsworth's Alfoxden Journal something I clearly need to find and read. Fascinating. Thanks a lot for that share. Really cool about your literary zine! I'll definitely share the alert/request right now. And If I make or find something of mine, I'll send it along for your perusal. Everyone, D.l. Zach is doing a literary journal, and he would be interested in considering work by anyone within the sight if these words. Well, in his words: 'also, this post reminded me that i ought to say here, to all the folks around me as well, that i am working on a literary magazine that will be published online in a pdf format, with some smaller zine like distribution as a printed object as well. folks here should send us stuff! www.americanchordata.org.' Strongly consider that, yeah? If I can dig something up to submit, I certainly will. ** Kier, Hi, K! I don't even know if I could be mouse quiet if I tried. I mean, I'm not a huge talker, so that part is doable, but I am big and kind of clumsy. I like Xmas too. Paris does Xmas proud. Speaking of, the patisseries are starting to reveal their buche designs for this year, so that's exciting. I don't think the military base was why I knew that place. I can't remember why. Iceage is on December 1st. (Ha ha, Blogger just spell-corrected Iceage into Ikea). My yesterday ... I worked on the theater piece. That was hard, but it's happening. I did that as much as I could. I made a blog post. I'm still behind, and there might be some reruns coming, we'll see. Conferred with Zac and Gisele. I guess the highlight was having a long coffee with Peter Sotos, who's in Paris at the moment. He's great, and that was really nice and fun. Then I got home to some potentially scary news that I don't want to detail, but it put me in a spooked and unsettled mood that persists this morning, and I guess I'll find out how scary it's going to be today, and fingers crossed. That kind of swamped my day, and has made my day report blah, but I'll try to be more telling and entertaining tomorrow if my today manages to make my fear go away. How was your 'being back at work' day? ** Damien Ark, Hi, Damien. Oh, Sociology. The university I sent to for one year was full of Sociology majors, I don't know why. I guess the school was known for that or something. I hope you don't go bankrupt, obviously, man. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Ben. Any book authored by McNeil/Osbourne in oral history form, which I'm guessing is that book's form, has to be super fun based on past examples. I'll look for it. Marc Almond should be a cool gig. Is it a 'best-of' kind of show, or is he showcasing some particular album or project? ** Schlix, Hi, Uli. You're in Amsterdam, cool, except what I presume is the wet and cold weather based on my years there. Nice gigs. How were Loop? I just saw that Ride has reformed and will play here. I generally stay away from reunion gigs, but that one is luring me against my better judgement. I find the virulent anti-Elizabeth Ellen stuff very depressing. ** Kyler, Hi. Cool that you're cool with my not liking Auster. But, hey, to each his own and live and let live and all that French attitude stuff. ** Keaton, Hi. Is it even possible to know what one's libido is doing without becoming delusional? There's a new Night of the Living Dead? I guess it would be easy to get baptized here? A lot of churches around, and I guess people must go inside them for religious reasons at least once in a while. If I have any pills left, and, at the moment, I can't say given my slow recovering, I'll slip you some. But they're very weak. Don't expect much at all from them. ** Jose Acevedo, Hi, Jose! Cool, send me stuff. Just be forewarned, if I haven't already forewarned you, that I can be molasses slow, especially now when I'm swamped with work that I have to do, but, that said, it will be a great pleasure to see and experience your work, and thank you! How is 'Energy Flash'? I like Simon Reynolds's writing a lot. Wow, really interesting stories, man. Your energy is exciting! I'll message you at Facebook the next time I go there, cool, thanks. ** Misanthrope, Hi, G. Okay, I'll hold onto the Iceland bills 'til ... Ah, she's scared the school thing will lead to an examination of her. How, sorry, selfish of her. But, yeah, fear is a beast, so I get it. I don't think I have any FB friends who reference God. I have a bunch who chase outrage like it's a winning lottery caught in a breeze or something. Your frustration with that situation is a million percent understandable. Jesus. ** Etc etc etc, Hi, Casey. I saw an email from you this morning, but I haven' had the chance to open it. Thank you! Please be patient because I'm way overworked at the moment, but I'm excited! Cool! ** Bill, Hi. I liked 'Rose Alley' a lot, so I don't know if you'll like 'Fancy'. It's different but it's in its/his general style and mindset. People sometimes send me books/pdfs really early sometimes. I'm lucky that way. ** Okay. I'm focusing on Emitt Rhodes today. Weirdly overlooked pop song form maestro circa the early 70s mostly who famously never hit it big for reasons that no one can quite understand. See you tomorrow.

Galerie Dennis Cooper presents ... Nina Beier

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'Nina Beier's work is as unstable as a keg of dynamite, if a whole lot quieter. The Danish artist's sparse, pared-down offerings have included fading photographs, a wall painting that was redone daily and a sculpture recreated via a game of Chinese whispers. Her Dust Painting is literally a pile of dust-coloured pigment, which gets traipsed all over the gallery on the soles of people's shoes. As unassuming as it first appears, her art is an elusive, restless thing, with scant regard for the beautiful picture frames that often attempt to contain it.'-- The Guardian

'I believe my father invented Google Maps. Or at least a map of what could have eventually become Google Maps. He never fully realized this project, though. The roads of his psyche, to use a fitting metaphor, were perhaps not made for opposing traffic. People say that every map is a portrait of its maker, a picture of his knowledge, perspective, and interpretation. One thing is certain: My father loves Google Maps.

'The philosopher Alfred Korzybski famously stated that “the map is not the territory,” supposedly meaning that one should not confuse the representation of something with the actual thing. But there is a lot to be said for confusion. These are confused works, pictures that are both map and territory. What is a poster for an exhibition of posters, or what should we call a representation of dust made of dust-colored pigment dispersed over a room? Or a work that frames the clothes the framer was wearing when he made the frames? After all, isn’t the best way to describe a story to tell one?

'I have repeatedly come across a Lewis Carroll story about a country that, after several attempts at making an accurate map, makes a map the size of the country itself. But when using it, the citizens run into a number of problems and, following complaints from the farmers who argue that using the map would harm crops, they decide to use the country itself as its own map, a solution they conclude is nearly as good. Here, the represented almost succeeds in becoming its own image, like the story, as I just told it, is almost the same as it was the first time around.

'When one attempts to light a sculpture fully, its shadows unfold on the floor around it. The sculpture practically appears overshadowed by the repeated figures. But if one would present the shadows as the work of art on display, would we see the sculpture as the portrayed?

'I have found pictures of body parts belonging to giant statues. These statues are constructed in fragments and will inevitably end in fragments again. They are a puzzle and we know the pieces; even when looking at the full figure, its own reality shines through. As an image torn to pieces and reassembled, it displays the scars of its own history while competing with the story it depicts.

'The pictures argue within and among themselves, as their surfaces struggle with their content for domination. When a published representation of a work of art is framed and presented as a work again, the weight of the frame might initially outshine its content, which again, if the reflective UV filter makes it survive long enough, might gain enough importance to be appreciated on its own terms and perhaps even be freed from its frame again.

'The viewer will see her own image mixed in with this story, and any future photographic documentation is likely to include the reflection of its maker. Appositionally, a framed poster that has been sandblasted, obscuring the image and exposing the frame, has become a thing in itself, no longer a representation, and will never again reflect anything.'-- Nina Beier



_____
Further

Nina Beier @ Laura Bartlett Gallery
Nina Beier @ Standard (Oslo)
Nina Beier @ Metro Pictures
'Of any artist working today, 35-year-old hyper-mixed-media artist Nina Beier ...'
'Artist of the week 180: Nina Beier'
'FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS'
'25 artists to watch: Nina Beier
'Nina Beier’s “Office Nature Nobody Pattern”'
Book: Nina Beier & Marie Lund 'The Object Lessons'
'Johnson Tiles lends its expertise to artist Nina Beier'
'NINA BEIER: VALUABLES'
'ALL THE BEST: NINA BEIER E MARIE LUND'
'The Pedestal Problem'
Nina Beier reviewed @ Frieze Magazine



____
Extras


Nina Beier exhibition @ Kunsthal Charlottenborg


Nina Beier with Marie Lund 'Hide behind the trees' (2006)


NINA BEIER, PERFORMER PERFORMING PERFORMANCE (2009/2010)



______
Interview




Let’s start with the basics—your work is so materially diverse. If someone asks you what you make, how do you answer?

Nina Beier: [laughing] Only in America do I get this question! I usually say that my work is conceptually based and takes any form except painting…but I guess that’s not even true anymore. I am wary of self-mediation though, because conceptually conceived work is already far too self-conscious. The art needs to work as a project: to read, to misinterpret, to reinterpret, that’s how you get closer to the idea of a show.

You've made some projects that have the possibility of being unfinished forever. How do you resolve to stay unresolved?

NB: My process is coming from a direct frustration—as artists we want to explore something that is alive, but normally in the art system the work is supposed to have a final destination, and it freezes. On the issue of staying unresolved, I guess I am not the first artist to struggle with fitting a living and changing practice into a framework that demands final answers.

So what is your process?

NB: All the things that are completely unbearable about the system, that’s what I want to work with. The artwork is autonomous despite the attempt to claim its rights. When I look at my existing work it is not uncommon that something has changed since it was made; it could be its context, itself or even me. I respect the authority of the [extant] work, but I like to believe that mine trumps it. I should have the freedom to change it. For example, I’ll change a title if I don’t think it’s fitting anymore.

You’ve been quoted as having read the theories of Walter Benjamin and Roger Caillois. Do you think of your work as theory-driven?

NB: I read, but not conscientiously, I have to admit. I use writing for inspiration and I rudely mix and match to make it fit my current thinking. But I would hate to think that my work would be an illustration of any theory.

Do you feel you are playing a game with the audience?

NB: No, a game would imply that I have a master perspective and I don’t want to claim that. My work tends to be built on some more or less logical premise, but it would be really sad if it ended there. I try to start something and there is nothing better than when it is taken on the route of over-interpretation, an attack of the mind, like the incredible places that these guys’ minds can go. It’s what any work of art would wish for.



___
Show




On the Uses and Disadvantages of Wet Paint (2010)






Nina Beier with Marie Lund
History Makes a Young Man Old, 2008/2010
A crystal ball rolled on the ground from the place where it was purchased to its final destination







Tragedy (2012)
Trained dog, Persian rug






Sweat No Sweat No Sweat No Sweat No Sweat (2013)






Shelving for Unlocked Matter and Open Problems (2010)






Wallet (2014) 
turtle shell, woman/man and kid cotton underwear






Closing Argument (2010)
Posters, frames, Variable dimension






Nina Beier with Marie Lund
The Collection (2008)









The Blues (2012)
Sun-faded posters, window glass, frames






Nina Beier with Marie Lund
I Wrote this Song for You (2008)
8 vintage speakers, amplifiers, soundfile, computer






Foxtail Keychains, Choker Chain Necklaces, Teaspoons, Chain Print Fabric (2013)






Untitled (2013)
Woman's wig, Persian rug, sheet of glass






Flowage (2013)







Untitled (2014)







Untitled (2014)






Tunnel Taken Apart (2010)






The Pockets (2012)






Greens ($50 rubles) (2014)
Palm and printed towel pressed by glass, on foam on MDF






Nina Beier with Marie Lund
New Novels, New Men (Jealousy, Jalousi, La Celosia, La Gelosia, Die Jalousie oder Die Eifersucht) (2009)






Liquid Assets (2013)
plastic, 3D modeling






Nina Beier with Marie Lund
The House and the Backdoor (2007)




*

p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, Oh, that's too bad. About the PTA 'Inherent Vice' film. I was curious. I've found most of PTA's films to be quite strong. ** Tosh Berman. Hi. 'Against the Day' is my fave Pynchon, I think. I do really like 'Mason & Dixon' too. Hm, genius. How do you define that, if you don't mind saying? Like what artists do you believe possess it, and how is it apparent. I think for me 'genius' is maybe an extreme form of great, and I feel it about work instinctually, and it usually comes to mind when something confuses me and seems transcendent at the same time or something. ** James, Hi. I'm okay. The spooky thing isn't health related, it's circumstances-related. And I haven't gotten my answer about it yet due to me chickening out yesterday, but I will today. But I'm whole and fine, thanks. ** Sypha, Hi. Very interesting: your thoughts on horror and its ... cooptation? I don't mind pessimism in writing except when the writer is dogmatic about it and using his fiction to make some nihilist point, statement. But then again I don't really like writing that does that whatever the writer's philosophical bent. I guess the writing that interests me has the writer's viewpoint as an ingredient but exists in a place beyond his or her opinions. Like a runaway train or something that the writer trusts and is trying to control as much as possible, and to whose lack of a predetermined destination orclear-set purpose he or she is forced to act as a technician. Technical work as a form of of surrender or something. I don't know. I find outrage-chasing on FB incredibly tiresome. I like the idea of forming communities on there and stuff, but not communities based people on trying to trigger each other's emotionalism about celebrities' behavior such that you get these petty, doomsaying two-or-three-daylong group diatribes and pissy arguments about whatever happens to be front page news on TMZ and Gawker, which seems like 80% of what's happening on my particular feed there in the past months. ** Kier, Hi, K! I wish I could send you a buche without you ending up receiving a moulded pile of mush. My scare is circumstantial, like I said to James. It's scary, but it's not life threatening or anything, and I still haven't found out my fate in that regard, but I kind of need to today. I'll await my glimpse of Lucifer, yay! Horses are intense. They kind of freak me out. I got bucked off every horse I tried to ride when I was a kid, so I think I have a lingering neurosis about them. I like and admire them, though. That Xmas decoration you made sounds most deserving of the holiday. I'm anxiously awaiting the day when Paris's Xmas stuff will go up and will be made available in stores. I don't when that is. I think maybe in a week? Oh, you're gone, so I don't know if you're seeing this, or, rather, when you're seeing this, but I hope your trip goes really, really well, if you don't get to check in from there. My yesterday wasn't so interesting. I'm really having to buckle down on finishing the new Gisele theater piece, and that's basically what I did all day. Oh, I don't want to say too much about this yet, but I'm going to be putting out a book soon, an eBook, a novel but not in the traditional novel form, and it'll be free, and an awesome place wants to publish it, and I was working on the early stages of that with them yesterday, and that was exciting. More details on that soon. And, yeah, I really was just home working on stuff all of yesterday, and it went well, so that's good, but it wasn't a very colorful, newsy day to report on. So, I'll be very interested to hear how things are going up there where you are, either in a daily form or in post-trip wrap-up form. Have fun, pal! ** Heliotrope, Mark! I did kind of wonder bordering on suspect that Mr. Rhodes might lead to your entering this humble abode. Did I turn you on to 'Mirror'? Maybe, it's possible. Wow, Grin, wow. I haven't listened to Grin in a billion years. That's an idea. I did see that there was a box-set of Nils Lofgren's stuff put out not so long ago. 'Beggar's Day!' Did you see the Rhodes doc film? I continue to miss you too! I'm hoping/planning to finally get to LA after the first of the year sometime. Iceland was insane. Broken ribs suck. No news there on either front. I love you too, man, and, yeah, you being around would be sweetness! ** Keaton, Hey. Interesting thoughts there on the libido and all that, cool, thank you. I'm more woken up now. Bang. I was never baptized either. High or low five! Sober, huh, cool. I'm kind of almost totally sober, as I think you know. I like it. It's kind of awesome. New Keaton construction! It's about time! Everyone, possibly in honor of the upcoming American holiday Thanksgiving, Keaton has made one of his blog-based masterstrokes, and that's your cue to click your way into a thing called 'Thanksgiven' and/or '::Lord Satan, we give thanks..."'. Do. ** Cal Graves, Hi there, Cal. Good to see you, man. Trip was fucking unbelievable. Too unbelievable to be cozied up to wordage, basically. But go to Iceland if/when you can. Seriously. We got to Reykjavik, and, the day after we got there, the Airwaves Festival, which you probably know is Iceland's biggest, best music festival, started, but it started on the day when we left town to drive around the country for 10 days, so I totally missed it. Didn't see any bands. Heard a ton of Icelandic contempo music while on the trip in, like, cafes and stuff, but it was all the kind of soft melodic, spaced-out kind, like lower IQ Sigur Ros basically. You're no traitor, perish the thought. That is a bizarre question. Okay, it's tricky because I'm a person who maybe remembers a dream I had, like, three times a year. The way I wake up seems to erase them or something. And when I do remember them, I'm always being chased by a murderer or falling to earth from a very high, fatal height. And I have this weird, vivid imagination, and when I do remember my dreams, they don't seem any more vivid or realistic than the fantasies I have while conscious. So I don't know what I would dream in that pressured circumstance, hm. Really, I'm flummoxed. I'll have to think about it. That's not a fun answer, I'm sorry. Try me again? ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Ben. Thanks. Me too. I think I have to find out today. Almond tours a lot? He never plays in Paris. I wonder why. It would be easy for him to do presumably, and I'm sure he has a healthy French following. ** Steevee, According to Amazon, a couple of his albums are in-print in download and vinyl forms only. And, otherwise, you can buy imports, often from Japan. Thanks about the scare. Hopefully I'll find out that I was scared for nothing. ** Etc etc etc, Hi, Casey. Thanks, man. I should hopefully be A-okay. Rhodes has a Nilsson-like thing in a strange way. I did see the Godard, and I loved it a lot. It's probably my favorite film I've seen this year, and it's definitely the film that has excited me the most re: thinking about art-making, new ideas. I thought it was really, really great! Good day to ya, bud. ** Misanthrope, Hi. I don't have any God-promoting FB friends, which I guess makes sense. Just a lot of outrage addicts. It doesn't seem to matter whether it's Kardashian's butt or Bill Cosby's alleged rapes or Amanda Byrnes's latest tweet or Daniel Hander's racist joke. The outrage is the same whatever the target. Man, the image of LPS's mom teaching him at home just seems absurd and cruel, I'm sorry. Well, semi-sorry, if that. A fucked up mess in-fucking-deed! ** Okay. I like Nina Beier's work, and so I have given her a show in my gallery. See what you think. See you tomorrow.

Please welcome to the world ... Tosh Berman The Plum in Mr. Blum's Pudding

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'Poetry is the most musical of literary forms. A poem unfurls like a melody, and a stanza of verse could snuggle comfortably onto a page of sheet music. A single line of verse can end on a lilting note of optimism, or a shadowed note of wistful melancholy. A poem is like a miniature operetta that someone whispers in your ear, and this understanding is central to The Plum in Mr. Blum’s Pudding. The majority of the piec- es in Tosh’s book could be characterized as love poems, however, for the most part, that’s not how they were conceived. “There are many layers in a poem, and poetry is a condensed form of writing that takes the reader into an inner world. I wanted these poems to take the reader to a specific place, but it wasn’t necessarily a personal place, and the love poems weren’t written with a muse in mind. Rather, I wanted to take the reader into a place of language, and was interested in playing with the form and characteristics of love songs; the songs from the great American songbook, particularly the lyrics of Cole Porter and Ira Gershwin, were a big influence on this book. When you listen to a great performance of a popular song it pulls you into a world of feeling, and when I hear a good love song I feel like I’m in love; this is a phenomenon of language.”'-- Kristine McKenna


'Tosh Berman's poetry collection The Plum in Mr. Blum's Pudding is full of unexpected associations, images, and jump-cuts. The poems are unfailingly charming, but they're also occasionally cut with poison, so that you're never certain what lurks around the next line break. The book is beautifully sequenced so each of the short pieces echoes off one another, creating a whole that's far more ineffable and mysterious than any individual verse. The writing is often masterful, but in an offhanded and understated way, refusing to call attention to its startling sleights of hand. It plays like an album of dislocated love songs, the meanings sometimes obscured, the yearning voices occasionally slipping into a foreign tongue -- but always seductive.'-- Jeff Jackson


'The fifteen minutes it took me to read this book transported me to a place that lingers. So I reread it three more times to reinforce that place. And placed the book on my coffee table to place that place in the place where I live.

'What kind of place? It is a heart on top of the head kind of place, with volcanoes and Glenn Gould, and the Sea of Japan making things sad and sticky and beautiful. It is a place where people die to the tune of a light pop tune. It is an innocent and a jaded place where sex skirts the edges. It is a place where pressed pants paint a poem with enviable off-handedness. A place with plenty of space and the stars above twinkling into cocktails. A place with a light touch that you know still wants to grope. So watch it!'-- Eddie Watkins



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Gallery
The very young Tosh










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Further

The Wonderful World of TamTam Books
'The Plum in Mr. Blum's Pudding' @ goodreads
american rive gauche: an interview with tosh berman
Tosh Berman's Soundcloud stuff
PODCAST #34: Tosh Berman, "Sparks-Tastic"
'Tosh Berman on the band Sparks and the meaning of being a fan'
Tosh Berman interviewed
Notes from Friends of Fantômas
'Tosh Berman is into a much cooler Paris than most people ever see'
'TOSH BERMAN ON HIS FATHER'
Buy 'The Plum in Mr. Blum's Pudding'



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Extras


Tosh Berman talks about Georges Perec's"AN ATTEMPT AT EXHAUSTING A PLACE IN PARIS"


Tosh Berman talks about Raymond Roussell's "NEW IMPRESSIONS OF AFRICA"


Tosh Berman talks about "MICK ROCK EXPOSED: The Faces of Rock 'N' Roll" and "BOLAN: The Rise and Fall of a 20th Century Superstar"


Tosh Berman talks about "MUJI: MUJI IS GOOD FOR YOU"


Tosh Berman talks about James Schuyler's "Other Flowers: Uncollected Poems"



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The original 1980 cover








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Music











_______
Interview




Tosh Berman: [The Plum in Mr Blum's Pudding] was written during a combination of despair and adventure. I was in a situation where my mother-in-law was dying and I had to be in Japan to support [my wife] Lun*na [Menoh]. I had pretty much given up my life in Los Angeles to live in Japan, and not only that, but live in [Mojo-Ko,] a very small town. I didn't know the language or the culture that well. The only thing I knew about Japan was Kurosawa films, Mishima's novels, and the Japanese group, Sadistic Mika Band. I didn't even know how to use chop sticks!

Rebekah Weikel: You’ve said The Plum acted as a journal of sorts...

Tosh Berman: Yes. Some of the pieces were originally written in Los Angeles, but then I went on to completely re-write them in Japan, and add additional poems. I wanted the book to become a kind of journal, where all the work pertains to the period and experience. I had always written poetry, but very bad poetry. Through the combination of not really being able to talk to anyone – this was pre-internet – and not hearing English on a day-to-day basis, this book is what came. It was everything I observed at that time, filtered through my experiences.

I always had a “collection” in mind. I’ve never written a poem to stand alone. I’ve always written poetry intending each poem for part of a collection. Like music, I am very much an albums-orientated person; I don’t like individual songs that much. I think a book of poems should have a beginning, a middle, and an end… but as Jean-Luc Godard once said: “Not necessary in that order!”

Rebekah Weikel: In an email you sent to me about the book, you said you felt very isolated during your stay in Japan.

Tosh Berman: Yes. It’s always hard when you’re in a new country, especially when you don’t speak the language. But I think, too, it was just a very sad time considering the circumstances of Lun*na’s mother being ill. We were based in Mojo-Ko, a suburb of sorts outside Kitakyushu. Mojo-Ko was a port town that was once an important and large shipping area before World War II. Very close to Korea. There was often consistent travel between Moji-Ko and Busan with respects to its merchants, but after the war, the area lost their shipping business and became a somewhat exotic area outside Kitakyushu. So, after moving [from Los Angeles] to this somewhat desolated area, I didn’t hear from anyone aside from a few letters from my mother in Los Angeles. It was almost as if I died, and I wasn’t in anyone’s mind or hearts anymore. I felt abandoned and I wasn’t sure where life was leading me or how long I’d be in Japan. It dawned on me that my life or past in the United States might be left a memory. It was with this in mind that I started to write and put together The Plum In Mr. Blum’s Pudding. I wanted to produce something I could be remembered by.

I often felt like an alien. I was the only foreigner in the area, and I remember children would either stare or draw a picture of me to show off to their parents or friends. When I walked around Moji-Ko, which was on a consistent basis, I felt very much like “The Man Who Fell To Earth.”



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Book

Tosh Berman The Plum in Mr. Blum’s Pudding
Penny-Ante Editions

'The Plum in Mr. Blum’s Pudding is Los Angeles native Tosh Berman’s first printed collection of poetry. In 1989, Berman left the United States behind, moving to Japan after learning his wife’s (artist Lun*na Menoh) mother was ill in Kitakyushu. The Plum in Mr. Blum’s Pudding was penned while both rapt and lost by this transition. Gracefully toiling between the quirky and earnest, these poems describe the liminal space of the foreigner caught between the strange and the familiar. The result is surreal and unclassifiable, a book of love poems overshadowed by isolation and underscored with curiosity and lust.

'Originally published in 1990 by “Cole Swift & Sons” (Japan) as a small hardcover edition of two hundred copies, this new edition acts to preserve this work and features an introduction by art critic and curator Kristine McKenna and an afterword by Ruth Bernstein.'-- Penny-Ante Editions


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Excerpts


A CALLOW YOUTH IN LOVE

When I was a little girl
I played with my curls
Never noticing car accidents
Can cause such beautiful casualties

And if I was a boy
Who had a mind
I wouldn’t mind standing in a field
Of land mines




THE GREAT
MUSEUMS OF THE
WORLD

I wake up to see
The greatest work of art

She is beautiful
All the curators of the world agree

The Sea of Japan
Is 405,000 square miles long
My love
Fills up the sea
The hard vegetation & dry rocks
Bow down to the greatest love
Ever found

The great museums of the world
Will be burned down
The ceilings are too tall
& the rooms are too wide
We need a small room
To appreciate great art

Stations made of stone
Is too cold
Flesh is the only way to go

So why don’t we burn down
The great museums of the world ?




THE PLUM IN
MR.BLUM’S
PUDDING

The Negro River runs through Colombia
And Brazil
Its length is 1,400 miles
& runs into the Amazon River
Which is 3,988 miles in length
& runs through Peru and Brazil

...... And if you take my hand
We will float down the Negro River
Flowers die & fade into a summer day
In one moment
I will build a monument in Peru
Tall as time & wide as space
I’ll call it “ Frank Sinatra ”

There are hidden trumpets
In the dark jungle
The only sound of life
Is life itself
Strangling on java juice




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p.s. Hey. This weekend, the blog is very happy and proud, or as happy and proud as a internet site can be, to form a launching pad for the long awaited republication of the great Tosh Berman's legendary, too long o.o.p., glorious book 'The Plum in Mr. Blum's Pudding'. Please use the next days to get to know it, and then click where it says 'Buy' if you know what's good for you, and I know guys do. Thanks. And thank you, Tosh, for letting this place toot its horn on your behalf! Otherwise, I will issue a forewarning that you're likely to see at least a couple of rerun posts next week. Between the recovery time re: my pesky broken ribs and my recent traveling and a looming work deadline, the time I normally have to make posts has been badly mutilated. So, assuming oldies are in the blog's immediate future, I apologize for that backwardness in advance. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Ben. I appreciate the hugs. The news I feared was indeed bad news, but it's not life-threatening or anything like that. It just sucks for me, and I have to suck it up, and I will. Basically, I was informed that I have to move out of the Recollects where I've lived for the vast majority of the time I've lived in France. And that probably doesn't sound like more than a hassle, but it's kind of traumatic for me as well as presenting a complicated process that I really dread. So, yeah. Oh, I knew nothing about MA's stint at Chatelet, shit. I'll watch my local listings more attentively. ** Kier, Hi, K, you managed to pop in! That's very cool! You sound you're having a bunch of fun and that even more fun is awaiting you, and hopefully that larger fun is now underway. Nina Beier is Danish, but I think she lives in Berlin? I've been working on the eBook thing for a bit, and right under you guys's noses in fact. I haven't decorated for Xmas since I've been over here. It's weird. Part of it is that my place, my room, is crammed with a big mess of stuff, and so any decorations would just look like green and red junk. I like the idea of decorating, though. Be really, really careful with the iciness. Don't end up like me. Walk slowly and with heavy, carefully planted feet. I do like board games even though I never play them for unknown reasons. I haven't even played a video game in, like, years, which is bizarre. My yesterday was mostly a la the day before, i.e. largely spent working on the theater piece. It's a lot of work. Jesus. I also got my bad news about my living situation, and that freaked me out for the most of the day. The best thing by far was that I saw and hung out with Zac who, like me, has been hold up in his pad working under a heavy deadline, in his case assembling a very rough, initial edit of our film before we start working together on the actual editing. And we saw Gisele, and that was cool too. Coffee, walking around, and blab. Then I came back and worked some more before hitting the hay. Another uncolorful day. Now I have a whole weekend to try to squeeze in a bit or two of fun, and I'll try, and I imagine you won't even have to try to have fun, which is awesome. Tell me. Love, me. ** David Ehrenstein, Noel Coward wrote a song about Nina Beier? That's cool and technical impossible, ha ha. Don't agree with you about 'GR', but you know that already. And Pynchon and Gadsdis are just apples and oranges to me. ** Tosh Berman, Hi, Tosh! So thrilled to give the blog over to your masterwork! Yeah, 'wow' or 'holy shit' or 'what?!' are indicators of 'genius' for me too. I'm with you on 'genius' re: Sparks and Scott Walker. Morrissey, not sure. Bowie, mm, once in a while. Strange that there hasn't been a Scott Walker lyrics book. Huh. It's a no brainer of an idea. ** Kevin Killian, Kevin! Mr. Killian! A total joy to see you inside here! Well, the eBook thing is a novel in my mind, but, when I say the word 'novel', what probably springs to your mind is not precisely what it's going to be, although I am in the middle of an actual novel with a capitol N that I hope to get back into finishing enthusiastically as soon as I finish the theater piece text. Ah, what a coincidence, since I literally can not think of you without the word genius covering your name and your being with a very bright light. Big love from me. ** Jebus, Hi there, J! 'That "ineffable" it', good one, yep, that's it. Yes, you have described my personal definition of what would constitute genius kind of to the 'T'. Dude, so nice, so smart. Thank you! No, the eBook is separate from the novel I've been working on, but they are related because they're both going to be parts of a cycle of novels that I plan to be working on for the next while. How and what are you doing, man? ** Sypha, Hi. Well, you know full well that I really don't like the anti-natalist thing at all. But, from what little Ligotti I've read, and it was earlier work, I didn't find that viewpoint to be an oppressive thing in the work itself. I'm glad you haven't forgotten about Cat Band Day because I remain excited about it, and patient too, of course. It will be amazing and a huge boon whenever you're ready to deliver. Thank you, James! ** Thomas Moronic, Hi, T! Nice to see you back too. Don't miss your stop, or I mean I hope you didn't, and do come back asap. ** Tomkendall, Hi, Tom. I'm okay, yeah, thanks. I actually was going to ask you the other day if you wanted to do a blog post about that project, so, yes, I would be very into that, if you want to. Me too re: being blown away by 300,000,000. Killer! Thanks, Tom. Love, me. ** Cal Graves, Hi. Yeah, true about seeing bands, but, seriously, Iceland is so amazing that it didn't even matter at all. And I think probably all the bands there are based in Reykjavik where we were only stationed for a couple of days. Yeah, I like the word 'genius' just 'cos it signals an extreme liking of something really fast. But I'm from LA where laziness re: wordage in conversation is almost an art form or something, ha ha. Things went not good with the scary news, but I'll live, and what can you do? Your question today is extremely easy to answer because I have an intense fear of outer space, of being there, of space walks, and everything to do with space. So, even before I was there, I would die of a heart attack from fear. I'm pretty sure I literally would. So I wouldn't have a choice about my death. I would already be a corpse floating in space before I was even forcefully ejected into space. ** Keaton, Hi. I want one of her rug pieces. Those are my favorites. I thought Picasso was in Paris. Okay, good to know. Psychoanalytic theory: I don't think I like it either, do I? Like who constitutes that pov? I'm spacing out. ** Jeffrey Coleman, Hi, Jeff! I do seem to be back. And you're back. Nice coincidence. If Misanthrope was really, really hungry, and if the only food was d.l.s, I wonder who he would eat first? Hm, I'm going to ask him, if he's here today. I'm a vegetarian who can't digest meat anymore, so everyone would be spared in my regard. Yeah, they have snow and ice. At least in the winter. We got pummeled by it for a couple of days. Interesting. I mean your question about reading the Cycle. Well, ideally, I wrote it so that they would ideally be read in order. But I also wrote it so you could read them in any order just so long as you know that their order is very important and carefully planned out. So, that, whatever order you read them in, I would want you to know that the order in which they appeared is the order that they should take in your head once you've read them all. I guess I'm saying, yeah, you can read them in whatever order you like, sure. Thanks for wanting to. Don't know Jane Weaver. I'll get all over that. Thanks! I do know a little of Lars Pederson's work, but I haven't heard that new thing, and I didn't even know it was extant, so thank you again! Cool, man, sweet, you rule, take care! ** Steevee, Hi. Well, yeah, nothing wrong with commenting on stuff like the Cosby thing, obviously, It's just the ... my mom used to use this term 'ambulance chasers'. I guess it's the ambulance chasing types that get on my nerves. I don't think the new Wiseman has opened in France, but I'll check. I'm a little out of it re: movie releases at the moment. Curious to hear your thoughts on 'Instellar'. I have no passion to see it. Nolan's films generally leave me very wanting. ** Misanthrope, There you are. Okay, if you were really, really hungry, and there was no food at all other than a bunch of d.l.s, which d.l. would you eat first? Outrage is like the Facebook news feed equivalent of an orgasm or something. Right, LPS is a really big boy, isn't he? ** Right. Spend your weekend with Tosh, if you don't mind. That would be my ideal plan for you guys if I was into making your plans. I'll see you right back here on Monday.

Robert Altman Day

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'One of the most salient characteristics in Altman films is the narrative with a large cast of characters. From MASH to Gosford Park his films repeatedly set numerous stories in motion – with so many actors that it’s hard to count them: 40 in Nashville, 48 in A Wedding, another 40 in Short Cuts, over 60 in both Prêt-à-Porter and The Player, with many “playing themselves”. In these films he paints large canvases with motion that results more from the edited interconnections among scenes in different stories than from the logic of any overall story development. Altman has consistently expressed his hostility to narrative causality and closure, and his films dramatically display an antipathy to straightforward, clearly delineated, and causally logical narratives. An analysis, for instance, of the scenes cut from Gosford Park reveals that shots and scenes potentially explaining character behaviour and motive were systematically removed from the final cut of the film. Throughout his career Altman has relegated motivation to the “subliminal reality” of conflicting, indeterminate, vague, inexpressible characterological desire. We look for explanation of human action, he says, “But there doesn’t have to be one”. These films ultimately asked to be read not as realistic fictions but as expressive portraits and murals of modern life.

'On one hand, these multiply plotted films become more like reality, where lives intersect in random, chance and discontinuous ways without apparent reasons. Narrative coherence gives way to fragmentary puzzles. On the other hand, Altman has also regularly stated his craft to be that of a painter or a musician. Individual characters, then, bits and pieces of action, interact within the spaces and across the times of his films like tonal signatures or pigments of paint. Character motive, personal relationships, causal behaviour become ambiguous, diffuse, implicit.

'A central characteristic of the art cinema is its liberation of the visual and spatial systems of film from the logical system of narrative. Altman’s large casts and diffuse stories actively assist in this process where he says that story itself asks to be read in 3 Women (1977) like a dream, in Kansas City like jazz, in The Company like a pas de deux, in Gosford Park like a tapestry. The editing rhythm of McCabe & Mrs. Miller follows from the musical rhythm of the Leonard Cohen’s music subsequently used on the sound track. Vincent and Theo seems to be motivated by a desire to follow the trail of these two bothers in order that the director can paint with his camera the same people and places of Van Gogh’s paintings. Consequently, part of the difficulty in following the complex play of stories in Altman’s films is their modernist presumption that meaning emerges from the simultaneous perception of connections among images and phrases in space that have no consecutive relationship to each other in time. Each of the 24 roles in Nashville is a colour whose meaning resides in its proximity to adjacent colours and its various intensities within the figure the film makes. Similarly the multiple fragments in Short Cuts coalesce ultimately not just as the threads of disrupted stories but as the musical accompaniment to the classical, new age, and jazz compositions that shape the whole film.

'Altman’s films strikingly illustrate that the art cinema is a poetic as well as a narrative art. The sombre palette of gold and green in Images (1972); the restless, sensuous and ambiguous zoom and pan shots in Nashville and 3 Women; the pointillistic final sequence in the blizzard in McCabe and Mrs. Miller; the exhilarating colour and music of fashion in Prêt-à-Porter, the compulsive repetition of red and black throughout The Gingerbread Man), the stunning contrast of primary colours during the ballet performances with the honey-brown spaces of rehearsal and life in The Company– these qualities reflect the eye of a painter. Altman has consistently asserted that the goal of his films is an emotional rather than an intellectual effect: "I look at film as closer to a painting or a piece of music; it’s an impression… an impression of character and total atmosphere… The attempt is to enlist an audience emotionally, not intellectually."

'Narrative hardly disappears in Altman’s film, despite his self-description as a painter. In another aspect of the art cinema, Altman’s film aggressively interrogate popular narrative genres, almost as though he has been involved in a research and development project systematically to revise Hollywood’s major product lines. Images is a psychological thriller. MASH is a combat film. The Long Goodbye is a hard-boiled detective film. Nashville is a musical. McCabe & Mrs. Miller and Buffalo Bill are westerns. Quintet is science fiction. A Perfect Couple and Popeye are musical comedy romances. The Gingerbread Man is film noir. These well-known narrative forms provide the director platforms from which to display other concerns about the nature of human behaviour and its cinematic observation. Their stories seldom provide the context for significant, heroic action; rather they reveal spaces that enclose and forces that act upon a multiplicity of selves. Graphic and rhythmic dimensions of editing and cinematography frequently come unstuck from generic logic. Story moves psychologically from apparent external to obscure internal motivation. Plot becomes a project open-ended, ironic and ambiguous. Unfamiliar and unusual actors play against the star system, and stars play against their box-office personas. The innovative expressivity of the auteur director produces a metaphoric, often moody and contradictory, generally oblique discourse rather than the effaced zero-degree of style in the classical narrative cinema.'-- Senses of Cinema



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Stills



















































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Further

Robert Altman @ IMDb
Robert Altman @ The Criterion Collection
Books on Robert Altman
Robert Altman interviewed @ BOMB Magazine
Podcast: Robert Altman's son Michael talks about him
'10 Robert Altman Films You May Not Know'
'Home Movies: Robert Altman, Hollywood Renegade'
'6 Filmmaking Tips From Robert Altman'
'How Robert Altman turned Popeye into an Altman movie'
Fuck Yeah Robert Altman
'Revisiting the Strange and Wonderful Soundtrack to Robert Altman's Nashville'
Martin Scorcese on Robert Altman
'Robert Altman: The Hollywood Interview'
'What I've Learned: Robert Altman'
'Ronee Blakley Looks Back at Robert Altman’s Masterpiece, "Nashville"'
'The Robert Altman film Altman never wanted you to see'
'"We don't like the twins" - On Robert Altman's 3 Women'



____
Extras


Robert Altman talks about movie stuff


Independent Focus with Robert Altman


Robert Altman on RASHOMON by Kurosawa






Cinefile : Robert Altman Parts 1 - 3 (1996)



______
Interview




You had to hustle particularly hard during the '80s...

Robert Altman: It appears that way to you and to most people, but that was a very creative time for me. I did three or four theatre pieces with no screenplays. Making stage adaptations like Streamers and Come Back To The Five & Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean was experimental. It was fun. For me, it was a time of success.

Yet people dismiss that period, overlooking the fact that your filmed plays are very cinematic.

RA: Right. I made them like movies, but they took place in one space. I don't understand why people say you have to open a stage play up.

Is it a common misperception that you turned to these small-scale theatre pieces because the critical failure of Popeye burned you?

RA: I make no apologies for Popeye. Behind M*A*S*H, it's my biggest hit. It got maligned by the critics because it wasn't Superman. It wasn't about special effects and it wasn't made for 14-year-old boys. The majority of films are made for 14-year-old boys; I don't know where they get the eight bucks to get in. It's hush money from the parents.

You'd never worked with a major star until McCabe & Mrs Miller. So how did you handle Warren Beatty?

RA: Well, he was difficult. Warren was a control freak who was used to being in charge. I woke up one morning and it was snowing, much like today, so I said, "Hey, let's do so-and-so." Warren refused to come out of his dressing room. He said, "Well, by the time we get the shots, this is all going to be gone and we'll have to redo it." I said, "We've nothing else to do. Let's just try it." It snowed for 11 straight days and we got our whole final scene.

Beatty's always been renowned for demanding multiple takes. You shoot on the hoof. Did that cause any problems?

RA: You bet. Take the scene where McCabe is drunk and talking to himself. We did about seven takes and I said, "Okay, that's great." He said, "I want to do another one." So we did 12 or 13 takes. He said, "I want to do some more." I said, "Well, I'm going to bed because I've got an early call tomorrow." I left him with Tommy Thompson, my second-unit director. They shot 10 more [laughs].

You've always tried to flip Hollywood convention. Is that why you cut away from the love scene between Beatty and Julie Christie? After all, every studio exec wants "a little sex"...

RA: It wasn't something I was interested in showing. Sex is very private. You don't call up the neighbours and say, "Hey, Sally and I are gonna be at it tonight. Bring a chair over and sit and watch us!"

McCabe deconstructed the Western. The Long Goodbye did much the same for the detective story. Discuss...

RA: Everybody's seen all those films. I like them to see my film and go, "Oh, we're going to see another one of those…" Then I say, "No, you're not."

Naturally, you pissed off the Raymond Chandler purists. Did you expect the backlash?

RA: The purists said I didn't do what Chandler did. I never intended to. What's the point of a rehash? And when people say that Elliott Gould is not a good Philip Marlowe, they're not talking about Philip Marlowe. They're talking about Humphrey Bogart.

Your movies are renowned for their use of overlapping dialogue...

RA: I started that with M*A*S*H and continued it with McCabe & Mrs Miller. Eventually, on California Split, we made the first eight-track, so I had stuff going down on different tracks. Everybody was miked. On Gosford Park, I had 64 tracks!

How do you feel about the adjective 'Altmanesque'? It's now applied to any multi-layered movie with an ensemble cast...

RA: I don't know what "Altmanesque" means, though I suppose I'm flattered by it. I mean, Paul Thomas Anderson openly said to me, "All I'm doing is ripping you off." But that kid Anderson is really, really talented. He's a real artist, our best hope.

Filmmaking's changed so much since your arrival in the late '60s. Any other new voices you admire?

RA: I don't know how Fernando Meirelles made City Of God. It's so courageous, so truthful. I think it's the best picture I've ever seen - all I could think of was Gillo Pontecorvo's The Battle Of Algiers. I also liked Sofia Coppola's film, Lost In Translation. It's all about nothing but it's beautifully done. I'd rather watch a movie like that than Cold Mountain. For Christ's sake, I've seen that picture about 50 times before. There's nothing there that interests me.

You were 43 when you made Countdown. You'd served on bombers during World War Two. Does that life experience help the work?

RA: It all goes in.

So how do you feel about the new wave of MTV directors? Do you agree with Fred Ward's character in The Player: their movies are just "Cut, cut, cut"?

RA: They serve their art as they see fit.

Do you think that the '70s could have been cinema's last Golden Age?

RA: These things are on a cycle, but it'll probably be the last Golden Age in my lifetime. Back then, the decisions had gone from studio executives to the artists. I remember doing Brewster McCloud for some guy, I forget his name, who had just taken over MGM. It was an outrageous film about a boy who wanted to fly. This guy didn't know what the fuck I was talking about, but he went ahead and let me make it anyway.

Why have so many of your peers burned out?

RA: Well, I don't think they've dried up, but it's easy to get into a groove or a rut. I mean, I was offered millions - millions - of dollars to do a M*A*S*H sequel… But why would I do that? It was the same with Short Cuts and Nashville. I won't be restricted. Just look what happens every time some Mexican guy goes out and makes a great film for $65,000. They bring him in, give him $65 million and Ben Affleck. He falls on his face.

Do you think your reputation as a maverick could be partly responsible for the Oscar missing from your trophy cabinet?

RA: They'll never give me an Oscar. And I sincerely, honestly don't care. I always turn up when I'm nominated and it would be nice to get one, but to win one would be bad luck. It comes with too much expectation. It would be the end.



__________________
14 of Robert Altman's 41 films

___________________
That Cold Day in the Park (1969)
'By 1969, Robert Altman was a prolific director of episodic television, craving a transition to feature filmmaking, but facing a steep climb toward his goal. His first few feature outings (the 1957 independent feature The Delinquents, a documentary about James Dean from the same year, and the 1968 space thriller Countdown), had not sufficiently captured the imaginations of audiences or the film industry to sustain a feature career. That Cold Day in the Park represented a daring gambit in this context: quiet and cryptic, it displayed Altman’s iconoclastic fascinations: a sensitivity to schisms within normalcy, a fascination with female subjectivity, and the construction of atmospheres as expressive of psychological states. Par for the course, the film was received with ambivalence and disdain by many critics, and did not meet with commercial success; hardly the calling card that Altman needed.'-- UCLA Film Archive



Excerpt


Behind the scenes



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Brewster McCloud (1970)
'Brewster McCloud is more complex and more difficult than MASH. For one thing, we don't have the initial orientation we had in MASH, where we knew we were in the Army and we knew what the uniforms stood for and what was going on in the operating room. Those hooks helped us unsort the narrative. Brewster may not even have a narrative. If you want me to explain what Brewster is about. I'm not sure it's about anything. I imagine you could extract a subject from it, and I'll try that the next time I see it. But I wonder if the movie isn't primarily style; if Altman doesn't have a personal sense of humor and wants his directing style to reflect it. One could, of course, get into a deep thing about birds and wings and freedom, but why?'-- Roger Ebert



The entire film



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McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971)
'Ostensibly an anti-Western that eschewed the romanticism of John Ford, Altman’s film remained indebted to Howard Hawks for its subdued, atmospheric interior lighting (photographed by Vilmos Zsigmond, who went on to shoot Michael Cimino’s The Deer Hunter and Heaven’s Gate and Steven Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind and is still working as he approaches 84), reminiscent of the kerosene-lit sets of Hawks’s El Dorado. (Altman also owes something to Hawks for his experimental use of multilayered soundtracks, but also to Ford for his use of songs, in this case those of Leonard Cohen.) This contrasts markedly with the long climax, shot in snowy streets in broad daylight. As I wrote in my 1976 book on Westerns, McCabe is photographed “as though it were underwater…. Its consistent use of subdued colors is ultimately rather lovely in its ugliness. Altman insists on the smells, dirt, and grossness of the frontier….” I went on to say that the death of Beatty’s “seedy entrepreneur…argues persuasively that not only is there no room left for a Western hero, but there isn’t even room for an anti-hero.” In a sense, Beatty’s McCabe is the perfect surrogate for Altman, possessed (sometimes blindly) by indefatigable ambition.'-- MoMA



Trailer


Excerpt


Finale



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Images (1972)
'Sandwiched between two of his most celebrated artistic triumphs (McCabe and Mrs. Miller on one side, The Long Goodbye on the other), Images is something of a doodle – an intense, psychosexual thriller in the vein of Repulsion or Don't Look Now (released the following year) – but a wildly entertaining, impressively acted doodle nonetheless. The movie centers around (and is narrated by, in some of Altman's very best writing) Cathryn (Susannah York), a wealthy children's book author. One night at their home (which looks like a quasi-futuristic hobbit hole, in the way only '70s architecture and design can), Cathryn receives a series of disturbing phone calls indicating that her husband (Rene Auberjonois) is having an affair. When he returns home she confronts him, and he seemingly changes into another man altogether. (In one dizzyingly impressive shot the camera starts on York talking to the other man, played by Marcel Bozzuffi, who suddenly transforms into Auberjonois. The choreography boggles the mind.) Her husband suggests that they retreat to a cabin in the countryside, which is never a great idea, and the madness and intensity only escalates, with Cathryn tempted by adultery and plagued with visions of the mystery man and her own devilish doppelganger. Images is embroidered with pervasive weirdness – everything from the driving gloves Auberjonois is always wearing to sequences later in the movie when a rotting corpse lies on the kitchen floor, more a nuisance than anything else. In many ways a kind of companion piece to the similarly dreamlike 3 Women, Images is anchored by an utterly fearless, compulsively watchable performance by York (she bares body and soul) and Altman's razor-sharp screenplay.'-- Indiewire



Excerpt



____________
The Long Goodbye (1973)
'There’s an unmistakable sense of nostalgia that permeates Robert Altman’s seldom-seen 1973 neo-noir The Long Goodbye, an air of reminiscence highlighted by the film’s title track, a nifty, pliable, lovelorn little number composed by John Williams and Johnny Mercer that gets incorporated endlessly throughout the movie, evoking sporadic familiarity, even though we rarely hear the same version twice. It transforms itself, from scene-to-scene, into a flimsy piece of supermarket Muzak, an ivory-tickled barroom ditty, even a castanet-laden flamenco. It’s a caressing torch ballad one moment and a marching band’s funeral hymn the next. The song, in all its reimagined incarnations, continually threatens to embed itself into the viewer’s mind, but just as quickly eludes any tighter hold. It’s as though the film, in its own increasingly weary, tumbledown sort of way, is nostalgic for the tune, longing for something that comes back but is never the same.'-- The Film Experience



Trailer


Excerpt



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Thieves Like Us (1974)
'Keith Carradine is good looking and young and Shelley Duvall is appealingly strange and wan. During a scene where she emerges naked from the bath and climbs into bed with him, it's sensual and odd, because it doesn't play out with the predictable rhythm of a love scene. Altman understands that what makes Duvall attractive is her otherworldliness, and her dialogue rolls along like she's visiting from another planet, only vaguely curious of the details in our world because she has other things to do. In McCabe and Mrs. Miller, Altman found an earthiness in Warren Beatty and Julie Christie, two stars transformed into character types. Thieves Like Us is all character. Altman shows sensitivity to these outsiders, without false sentiment or even commentary. He watches from the sidelines, with a taste for irony—if you linger on an Altman wide shot long enough, without punctuation marks for action, it all becomes a little funny. These bank robber movies all end the same way: badly for our heroes. And we know this going in, so spending two hours in the company of these delightfully strange birds is, in a word, affecting. The world of Thieves Like Us is beautiful and strange, in all its stunning everydayness.'-- Slant Magazine



Excerpt



_______________
California Split (1974)
'Robert Altman’s most overlooked gem, California Split charts the friendship of two inveterate gamblers, Elliott Gould’s devil-may-care rabble-rouser and George Segal’s writer, as they wend their way through a series of casino misadventures. Theirs is a bond first forged over a game of poker in which Segal covers for Gould’s con and—after they properly meet-cute at a bar, drunkenly failing to name all seven of Snow White’s dwarfs—suffer a parking lot beat down for their earlier swindle. It’s a bromance predicated on a shared addiction to the thrill of the high-stakes win, and Altman dramatizes their union with his usual overlapping-dialogue acuteness. Conversations flow so naturally and messily that the film exudes a ragamuffin charm, bolstered by the director’s canny use of quick cutaways and evocative framing.'-- The AV Club



Excerpt



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Nashville (1975)
'What more is there to say about Robert Altman’s 1975 magnum opus Nashville? I mean really, it’s been held as a benchmark of not only 1970s cinema but American cinema as a whole since its release, and before the movie even came out it had critical luminaries like the one-and-only Pauline Kael throwing platitudes left and right at it from her review’s first paragraph with whoppers like “I’ve never before seen a movie I loved in quite this way: I sat there smiling at the screen, in complete happiness. It’s a pure emotional high, and you don’t come down when the picture is over; you take it with you.” As hyperbolic as that seems it’s an appropriately excessive statement for a fittingly excessive movie—that has twenty-four main characters and a nebulous-at-best plot, mind you—and one that I happen to pretty much agree with. Nashville is the type of movie that covers you like some sort of a cinematic blanket, never smothering you or your emotions but swaddling them enough in its grasp until it pulls itself knowingly away from you in its jarring grand finale. It is a singular film from a singular director.'-- Criterion Cast



Trailer


Excerpt


Final scene



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Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull's History Lesson (1976)
'Robert Altman was often ahead of his time--once at the cost of being behind himself. Buffalo Bill and the Indians, a snorting exposé of the U.S. predilection for buying into heroic myths, opened on July 4, 1976. Clearly the film was positioned as the ultimate bicentennial event, Altman-style. But Altman had already delivered that a year earlier: the splendiferous, deeply disenchanted yet exhilarating Nashville. Both Nashville and Buffalo Bill are films about America-as-show business, hucksterism, and the rare miracle of performance. But everything Altman got so thrillingly right in Nashville, which teems with life and mystery and widescreen dynamism, came out flatfooted and obvious in Buffalo Bill, a cramped, smirky inside joke that ends up being on the joker. The setting is the base camp for Buffalo Bill Cody's Wild West Show, where the blustering Indian fighter of legend is gearing up for his latest national tour. Apart from sharpshooter Annie Oakley (Geraldine Chaplin) and her great friend, the Sioux chieftain Sitting Bull (Frank Kaquitts), the show is populated by phonies and opportunists. Biggest phony of all is Cody (Paul Newman), whose fame has been based more on the penny-dreadful scribblings of Ned Buntline (Burt Lancaster) than on any real accomplishments; even his long blond tresses are fake. Altman and cowriter Alan Rudolph (working from a play by Arthur Kopit) thump their insights about the Establishment's feet of clay as if they were breaking-news bulletins instead of countercultural clichés. Only the occasional ineffably mysterious Altman zoom shot offers relief.'-- Richard T. Jameson



Trailer



___________
3 Women (1977)
'When asked whether he considers himself an “auteur” director, Altman has said he is to some degree a primary creator, in the sense implied by that term, and to some degree a “filter,” considering ideas offered by others as filmmaking proceeds. For a deeply personal project like 3 Women, his own instincts clearly take first place. Yet his dream would not have been effectively realized if he hadn’t been able to tune many collaborators in to his own intuitive wavelengths. This in itself makes 3 Women a quintessential specimen of Altman cinema, propelled by evanescent reveries of his own and inventive contributions from cast and crew. In the end, 3 Women emerged as such a seamless weave of image, sound, story, and character that no plot summary can do it justice. Ideally, it should be watched and pondered more than once, since many moviegoers find the film so utterly outside the cinematic frameworks they’re familiar with that they wonder if its tenuous narrative (especially the deliberately indefinite ending) has passed them by, or isn’t really there in the first place.'-- David Sterritt



Trailer 1


Trailer 2



____________
A Wedding (1978)
'When it was first released A Wedding received a cooler reception than director Robert Altman was used to with previous films Nashville and 3 Women. It is frenetic and confusing with Altman himself confessing, "It probably had too many characters and it gets a little unwieldy." With no fewer than 48 significant speaking parts, that was something of an understatement. However, even with its flaws, this is one of Altman's funniest and most ebullient films. Ostensibly Robert Altman's aim in this 1978 comic free-for-all was to top his own Nashville by doubling his cast of leading players from 24 to 48. The film concentrates on the aftermath of an upscale Chicagoland wedding, and it certainly has its moments. But the facileness of this "exposé" of the upper middle class adds up to a lot of cheap shots--watchable enough, but considerably less than the sum of its parts. Among the 48: Carol Burnett, Desi Arnaz Jr., Amy Stryker, Vittorio Gassman, Geraldine Chaplin, Mia Farrow, Paul Dooley, Lillian Gish, Lauren Hutton, John Cromwell, Pat McCormick, Howard Duff, Dina Merrill, Nina Van Pallandt, John Considine, and Viveca Lindfors.'-- Jonathan Rosenbaum



Trailer



_________
Quintet (1979)
'In the year 1979, director Robert Altman teamed with star Paul Newman to present one of the bleakest post-apocalyptic and dystopian cinematic visions ever forged, the wintry Quintet. Set well into a fictional future ice age of devastating "global cooling,"Quintet was not received warmly by either film critics or audiences at the time of the film's theatrical release, and that perception has remained largely unchanged today. Indeed, Quintet is not an easy or particularly fun film to experience. The narrative moves at an almost glacial pace and the action features long periods of bracing, uncomfortable silence. In addition to these qualities, Altman's feature boasts a kind of overt "icy" visual palette, with out-of-focus "cold" atmosphere encroaching visibly on the four corners of the frame. This unique, misty canvas is actually an ideal reflection of the film's existential crisis: that mankind is being suffocated spiritually and physically by the re-glaciation of all corners of the planet. For some viewers, this misty, frost-bitten visual presentation will add immeasurably to the creeping sense of bleakness and claustrophobia Altman toils so assiduously to generate. For others, the effect may only serve to annoy or even distance one from the action on-screen.'-- John Kenneth Muir



Trailer


Excerpt



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Popeye (1980)
'I first watched Altman’s comic-strip musical in a Milwaukee cinema within a few weeks of my sixth birthday, in December 1980. Baffled and bored by it at the time, I have more distinct memories of the pizza dinner my family shared afterward. But viewed again after Altman’s death, Popeye stands as a worthy entry in the director’s filmography for its charm, its gently countercultural spirit, and its performance by Shelley Duvall as Olive Oyl, the role—as so many critics noted—she was born to play. Remarkably faithful to the look, rhythm, and spirit of E. C. Segar’s Thimble Theater comic strips, in which the character originally appeared, Popeye, like its antecedents Dick Tracy and Sin City, stands as a testament to the challenges—and rewards—of translating a comic kit and caboodle to film.'-- The Believer



Trailer


Excerpt


Excerpt



______________
Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean (1982)
'The first of Robert Altman’s adaptations of stage plays introduced his admirably rigorous, enormously fertile approach to the question of turning theatre into something properly cinematic. Ed Graczyk’s play depicts the 1975 reunion, two decades after James Dean’s death in the Texan desert nearby, of a group of women who used to be members of his fan club; as they reminisce about the past and reflect on the present, various truths emerge to sometimes comic, sometimes painful effect. Crucially, Altman never ‘opens out’ the action but uses the many sightlines provided both by his characteristically prowling camera and by a mirror on the wall of his single dime-store set to reveal and illuminate the cracks in the masks of his garrulous characters. And the performances of his almost entirely female cast are uniformly superb – Cher’s, especially, being a revelation.'-- Bfi



Trailer


Excerpt



___________
Streamers (1983)
'The film's flaws are more than a little obvious—and likely derived in large part from the play. For all the director's zooming in and shooting through windows and into mirrors, the production feels hopelessly stagy, but given the one-room setting and its magnifying of the screenplay's inherent claustrophobia, this staginess actually works in the film's favor. Rather, especially in the retrospect of 27 (film) or 35 (play) years, Streamers's discussions of race and sexuality don't hold up particularly well, their effect dissipated by a certain quaintness in the play's understanding of homosexuality, by Rabe's desire to pack as much socially relevant material into his work as it'll take, and by Altman's penchant for tinting his minority characters (Richie, Carlyle) with ugly stereotyped traits. But what elevates the film above a dated topical discussion is Altman's imagining of the army barracks as a hothouse environment where tensions and fears play out in oddly manic outbursts—and his direction of his actors accordingly. The filmmaker, following Rabe, conceives of the army base as a testing ground for the American experiment, where a diverse group of people is forced to come together in a spirit of mutual beneficence. In the wake of Vietnam (or Reagan), however, such an experiment must result in failure, so that, while Altman allows for moments of kindness between the characters, the final result can only be a meltdown as potentially apocalyptic as it is inevitable.'-- Slant Magazine



Excerpt




*

p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi, D. Yep re: everything you said about Tosh. I'll alert Yury to Swinton's fashion turn, thanks. Everyone, David Ehrenstein says, 'Attention everyone in the L.A. area. Tomorrow at 5 pm at the Music Hall theater in Beverly Hills, Walter Reuben's The David Whiting Story or The Ceasar Romero Joke will be screening. Don't miss it.' What is that? ** Tosh Berman, Hey. Glad you thought it was okay. Such a pleasure. Yeah, the moving thing is sad and irksome 'cos getting a place here when you're not a legal resident and have no conventional job/income is a difficult process, but I'm definitely staying in Paris. I'll start looking as soon as I hit two immediate deadlines. Hopefully, it'll be okay. I have good luck, generally, Thank you, Tosh. ** Wolf, Wolf! Buddy! MoFo! Very cool about the job. Intense, super-interesting, cool-ass ... what a trio of adjectives. Congrats! Iceland was even far more amazing than you always told me. Un-fucking-believable. Mindblown, yes, by pretty much every inch of everything we saw, which was quite a lot, I guess. 13 days' worth. Insane. Pix, yeah, I have to get some from Zac. He took 90% of the images. I'll try. I put 6 Iceland pix up on my FB page if you want to sneak in there for a moment. ** Keaton, Hi. Art trip's a good trip. Mostly. McCollum, yes. I hate Kiefer's stuff, as you surely know. Monochrome is very crush-worthy. Oh, I see, cool, re: the theory dudes. I find Zizek so uninteresting. He's like the Bono or, I don't know, Radiohead of theory or something. Jung's castle? No, I know nothing. I'll hunt it down today, you bet. Hi! ** Steevee, Thanks, Steve. I have to move early next year. Not sure of when exactly, but I'll need to start hunting a new place soon. Cool about your interview. Everyone, Steevee interviews Ana Lily Amirpour, director of the new, hugely liked horror/art film 'A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night'here. Nice to hear that about the Wiseman. And not surprised to hear that about the Palahniuk. ** Cal Graves, Hi, Cal. Yeah, I always or mostly think change is good, so I'm going to try to forefront that pov and activate my objective side. Thanks for reading my sluts and for starting my junior God, man. Immortality has been one of my life's dreams since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, so I've been all set for that state for ages. Well, I would do an evolving version of what I do now, I suppose. Unless immortality bestows other magical powers or something. Does it? That would be cool. Yeah, I just imagine continuing everything as is with the world's changing input. What would you do were you to last forever? ** Etc etc etc, Hey. Thanks for the moving sympathies. Yeah, I wish Paris landlords were clawing to rent to American ex-pat artist types, but, no, they just want civil, moneyed-up people, and I'm kind of civil, but moneyed-up, not so much. LA talk rules. I wouldn't trade my mumbly diction for the world, I don't think. Sure, Pynchon's awesome. I like maximalists. I feel like experimental maximalism is on the rise or something, at least in the States. 'Witz' was good, but I don't like that Cohen guy much. Still haven't cracked Tom McCarthy, but I've got one of his things here. No, the incidental-seeming structure of the Godard excited me a lot. Formally, it's, like, the most inspiring thing I've seen in ages. It's making me think about narrative structure and spacial issues in fiction really intently. And the 3D was like a call-to-arms or something. No, it blew me away, top to bottom. I hope everything is awesome with you, today and otherwise. ** Rewritedept, Oops, shit, sorry things have returned to the less than burning light at the end of tunnel-like. Mm, yeah, don't like to hear suicide talk. Get that shit out of the equation instantaneously, please. And I hope you get reconnected just as instantaneously. What will it take? Whatever it is, take it. ** Sypha, Hi. Oh, man, thank you a huge ton for the post! Yes, the timing couldn't possibly have been better. I'll put it together today and, unless you hear otherwise from me, it'll launch on this coming Saturday. I'm bummed by how little fiction I've managed to write this year too, but I just -- at least initially -- nailed down the theater piece text, so, barring heavy rewrites ordered by Gisele, I can finally get back into my capitol N novel now. Thank you, thank you again! ** Magick mike, Hey, Mike! Really, really great to see you! And very belated congrats about the forthcoming CCM book! That news made me so happy! And awesome, needless to say, about your new book! I'll score one today before it's history. Everyone, M. Kitchell aka d.l. Magic Mike is one of the best writers of prose, poetry, fiction, and etc. we've got in this world today, and he has just today released a new tome through his exquisite Solar Luxuriance press, and it'll sell out lickety-split for sure, so I extremely encourage you to get yourself a copy today or as soon as possible. It's called 'Apart From', and you can get it here. Awesomeness itself, Mike! Thank you! ** Bill, Hi, Bill. Cool about finding 'Found'. I'll follow your lead. ** _Black_Acrylic, Thanks, Ben. Me too. I'll go read that linked article as soon as I get a chance today, thank you. Nice, itchy Art101 news. ** Kier, Welcome home, pal. Man, it sounds like you had the most fun and dramatic and poetic and mystical time. That's so, so great! Wow, everything! So sweet! Yeah, the need to move, ugh, but it'll be okay, I guess. I don't know long the cycle will be yet. I'm still planning. 2 for sure but that's not a cycle-length number. I'm imagining and initially devising what could be a 3rd novel. We'll see, but, no, I don't know how many yet. No name for it yet, no. My weekend was mostly taken up by working on the new theater piece, but I finished at least a draft solid enough to send to Gisele for her thoughts and approval yesterday. She's reading it, and then we'll meet this week to see if I need to do more work on it. Anyway, that was at least an initial relief, but it did occupy most of my time. Being stuck here, I mostly talked to people on the phone and made plans. Seeing this art world guy who wants to talk to me about something this morning. My LA friends Francesca and Eddy are in town, and I'll see them. I'm gonna hang with Zac and see art and eat or something today. Tomorrow is the opening of the Jeff Koons retrospective at the Pompidou, and I'm not a big Koons fan, for sure, but Zac and I are going to the opening for kicks. I really didn't do hardly anything other than work on/finish the theater piece text. Everything else has blurred. But hopefully my days will become more active and noteworthy starting today. How did you spend the first day after your glorious getaway? ** Tomáš, Wow, hi, Tomáš! How are you? I haven't seen in, like, a million years. 'The Marbled Swarm' has had a very difficult French birth. It was supposed to have come out last year. Then it was supposed to have come out this year. A translator translated it, and my publisher POL didn't like the translation and rejected it. Then a second translator worked on translating it for almost a year and finally gave up. I guess it's really, really hard to translate. Now a third translator is working on it. I guess if the third translator can manage the job, it will finally come out next year sometime. It's been a big mess. ** Misanthrope, You'd eat Rewritedept, interesting. And he was feeling suicidal this weekend, so he might just let you do it. Cannibalistic love birds, you two. Good, fingers crossed, that you've convinced his mom to do the logical thing. Whew. Love to you, bud. ** Hyemin kim, Hi, there! How are you? It's really good to see you! I've been wondering how you are given all the dramatic, scary news about Buffalo's massive snowfall. Has it affected you? My trip was sublime, really, amazing. Well, I broke three ribs while I was there, but that didn't even crease the sublimity. ** MANCY, Hi, man! It was so great to get to see the video of you Mark performing at his launch! Really glad you dug Emitt Rhodes. There's definitely stuff there. And, yeah, I saw that we're friended-up at FB now. I'm looking forward to whatever benefits that status infers. Won't be a lot from my end other than blog links. I get shy around there. ** Sickly, Sweet and awesome and cool about the Beau Rice. He wrote me a really nice note. Ha ha, I don't know how you found that 800 Euro a month, 3-bedroom place, but either there's something seriously wrong with it or it's located in Paris's far-flung boonies, I would guess. The rental situation here is really hard, actually. But, I don't know, I haven't started hunting yet so who really knows? ** Jeffrey Coleman, Hi, Jeff, Ha ha, awesome suggested post theme. I don't know if I could find 10 edible d.l.s. Nothing against you guys, I'm just a really, really picky eater in my cannibal fantasies. I'm hoping I can catch that Marjorie Cameron show at MoCA when I get to LA, but I guess it's pretty unlikely. Interesting thing, hers. Have a splendid day! ** Okay, I've never done a Robert Altman thing here, and I thought I should. Presto. See you tomorrow.

Rerun: Mizu presents ... Cookie Mueller Day (orig. 11/25/06)

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Filmography:

Variety (1983)
Smithereens (1982)
Downtown 81 (1981)
Polyester (1981)
Subway Riders (1981)
Underground U.S.A. (1980)
Seduction of Patrick (1979)
Final Reward (1978)
Desperate Living (1977)
Female Trouble (1974)
Pink Flamingos (1972)
Multiple Maniacs (1970)



Books and Stories:

1. How To Get Rid Of Pimples: The Actual Cure

2. Garden Of Ashes

3. Fan Mail, Frank Letters, and Crank Calls

4. Putti's Pudding (w/ Vittorio Scarpati)

5. Walking Through Clear Water in a Pool Painted Black

6. Ask Dr. Mueller: The Writings Of Cookie Mueller (anthology)


Tribute Sites:

Dreamland Girl

www.angelfire.com/md/cookiemueller/home.html

Courage, Bread and Roses: A Tribute to Cookie Mueller
http://www3.sympatico.ca/brooksdr/jw/cookie/main.htm








Quotes About Cookie:

1) “Cookie Mueller was a writer, a mother, an outlaw, an actress, a fashion designer, a go-go dancer, a witch doctor, an art hag, and above all, a goddess. Boy, do I miss that girl.”
--John Waters, 1996

2) “The first time I saw Cookie she was having a yard sale on her front porch in Provincetown. She was a cross between a Tobacco Road outlaw and a Hollywood B-Girl, the most fabulous woman I’d ever seen….

Cookie was a social light, a diva, a beauty, my idol. Over the years she became a writer, a critic, my best friend, my sister. We lived throught the peaks and the dread together in Provincetown, New York, New Orleans, Baltimore, and Positano.


… in 1988 Cookie got sick. …in August 1989 the effects of AIDS had robbed her of her voice… On September 14th her husband Vittorio Scarpati died from an AIDS-related illness and after that Cookie kind of gave up. She died on November 10th in the hospice of the Cabrini Medical Center.”

--Nan Goldin, 1990

3) Any time she walked out the door, her life was a story. I mean, everything she did. I mean, she'd say 'I'm going to go get the milk' and something lunatic would happen to her. So her life was like that all the time.


Cookie in her own Words / Quotes and Passages from her stories:

1)Yeah, life is tough in the real world. Actors wait on tables, ballet dancers work as topless go-go girls, artists wash dishes, and that’s not even the worst part. Someday you might bring your garbage on the subway, someday you might even shit in your own bank. (“Another Boring Day”)

2) A few weeks later, I accidentally got a job working two days a week as a housekeeper. The house was spacious and warm with all kinds of stuff to make work easier…. The only real problem was Wendy, the woman who lived there with her husband, Chris.

She was there most of the time, so I couldn’t totally relax when I cleaned. She stayed in bed though, all day, lying in her flab…

I didn’t blame her for lying in bed. She couldn’t walk. She was crippled from an accident in Mexico when her husband Chris haphazardly ran over her legs with the Volkswagon camper.

I felt sorry for her. Had it been me I would have divorced and sued this Chris person. He kept insisting that the reason she couldn’t walk was a psychological disturbance. He sounded like that misogynist idiot Sigmund Freud….

I cleaned around her.

One day I found some wild photos of Wendy and Chris. I think one of them left them out especially for me. There was a picture of Wendy spread-eagled, inserting huge bowling pins into her vagina. There was a picture of Chris trying to stick silver balls up his ass. There were pictures of the two of them and some other girl. She was tied up and they were all over her….

Because of these snapshots, I was prepared for anything, and sure enough, the day after… Wendy called me up to her bedroom….

“Cookie,” she said, “you might as well know that Chris and I aren’t getting along very well.”
“Oh?”
“I think it’s my legs. They’re not really pretty anymore…. Anyway, I want you to help us put our marriage back together again. You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, sure, whatever I can do to help,” I said, and thought oh no.

“Well, I’d like you to come over here tonight, around 2 in the morning, and get in bed with Chris. I’ll be sitting in that chair over there, and I’ll just watch. We’ll play it by ear, okay?”

“I don’t know, Wendy…” I said. Wild horses couldn’t drag me into bed with that husband of hers.
“Please, it would really help out,” she said.

I went back downstairs and stood there for a couple of minutes. Was she joking? I hated threesomes. Somebody was always getting left out. I didn’t want to fuck her husband, I didn’t want to fuck her. I didn’t want to be an upstairs maid!

…I went back upstairs.
“Look, I don’t think that’s my cup of tea,” I said.
“I thought you were wild,” she said.
Why does everyone think I’m so wild? I’m not wild. I happen to stumble onto wildness. It gets in my path.
“You’re supposed to be so wild,” she almost screamed.
“Well, I’m all finished for today,” I changed the subject. “I relined the stove with tin foil, and…”

She sighed, “Oh, go away.”

I did. I went home and didn’t go back… Too bad. I needed that money for Christmas. I wanted to buy everybody something special. Oh well.
(“Provincetown—1970”)


3)“The worst part is there’s no flattery involved in rape; I mean, it doesn’t much matter what the females look like; it doesn’t even seem to matter either if they have four legs instead of two. Dairy farmers have raped their own cows even.
‘It’s great to fuck a cow,’ they say, ‘you can fit everything in… the balls… everything.’
So I guess it just depends on your genital plumbing as to how you see the following story.
(“Abduction & Rape—Highway 31, Elkton, Maryland, 1969”)

4) “I accidentally burned a friend’s house to the ground once. The friend didn’t approve.”
(“British Columbia—1972)


5)“Aren’t you supposed to do some scene where you get fucked by a chicken?” Divine asked me.

“Fucked by a real chicken?” Mink asked me.

“How?” asked Bonnie.

“In the script it says Crackers cuts off the head of a chicken and he fucks me with the stump,” I said.

“Oh that sounds easy,” Divine said.

“Yeah, that’s pretty easy compared with what you have to do,” I said to Divine.

“Chickens scratch pretty bad,” David said. “Even without their heads.”

“Bird wounds can be dangerous,” Van said.


I thought about Hitchcock’s The Birds, but those were seagulls and I knew just how powerful seagulls could be. Compared to them, chickens were jellyfish.

“I’m not worried about some little scratches,” I said.
(“Pink Flamingos”)


6) I met all the German film stars, people I’d always wanted to have beers with: Udo Kier, Bruno Ganz, Klaus Kinski, and the German filmmakers (Fassbinder, Herzog, Schroeder). I was in Aryan heaven.

(“The Berlin Film Festival—1981”)


7) Biography and Education: I received most of my education traveling and working various inane jobs such as: clothing designer, racehorse hot walker, drug dealer, go-go dancer, underground film actress (otherwise known as independent feature actress), playwright, theater director, performance artist, house cleaner, fish packer, credit clerk, barmaid, sailor, high seas cook, film script doctor, herbal therapist, unwed welfare mother, film extra, leg model, watercolorist, and briefly as a bar mitzvah entertainer, although I’m not even Jewish.


I started writing when I was six and have never stopped completely. I wrote a novel when I was twelve and put it in cardboard and Saran Wrap, took it to the library and put it on the shelves in the correct alphabetical order. When I was eighteen, I left college for Haight-Ashbury and wound up a drug casualty, not unlike a bag lady. I learned a lot in the mental hospital, where I had shock therapy that didn’t work except for eradicating from my memory all the contents from novels I had read in the last twelve years.


A few of the films I appeared in have attained a cult status and I am told that I have a fan club in Los Angeles.


I have a twelve-year old son, who I believe has taught me the most.


I used to write poetry, but now I feel that poetry is archaic unless written specifically as song lyrics. I believe that my short stories are novels for people with short attention spans.


I live with my son in Manhattan and pay the rent as a journalist.

(“Cookie Mueller, born 1949, Baltimore, Maryland”)



Photos:









































Clips


Sylvia Miles, Ronee Blakley, Cookie Mueller at The Chelsea Hotel


Cookie Mueller I GOT A KNIFE


Cookie meets Edie the Egglady


cookie mueller "secrets of the skinny"


COOKIE- a new film by Liz Rosenfeld


Justin Vivian Bond Reads Cookie Mueller at Low Life


People remember actress and writer Cookie Mueller







*

p.s. Hey. As forewarned, here's the first of at least one or two more reruns that you'll be seeing this week as I get the blog back up to speed. I'll be going back into the blog's dawn, 8 years ago in today's case, in hopes the reruns will feel new to at least some of you. Apologies. ** Jose Acevedo, Hi, Jose! Thanks so much for the kindness. I would agree that in the case of a lot of the best fiction, the line between it and poetry is blurry. Not so much the other way around, though, which speaks perhaps to poet's superiority. Great words about Tosh's work. So nice. I'm in he middle of a big cup of coffee myself. Good morning! ** Hyemin kim, Hi. I'm glad you're snug and safe. My hurt, ribs-related specifically, is ever so slowly becoming invisible. Thanks! Let me see if I can find those posts. Hold on. Okay, I think the 'artificial islands' post is this one called 'What islands'? I don't remember what 'In France' was, and I did a search of the blog using those words, and, of course, a ton of posts showed up. Can you tell me more precisely what that post had in it? That will help. ** Tosh Berman, And once again thank you! Remember to report how the Marjorie Cameron show is, if you don't mind. I'm very curious. I liked 'The Player'. I really need to watch it again. All I remember about it is Malcom McDowell. I'm generally not so into the later/last Altman films, and I really don't like 'Short Cuts', but I do (barely) remember 'The Player' brightly. Sometimes I've had conferences with my translators here, sometimes not. It's actually been a big problem that I haven't done that with the 'TMS' translators. That novel has a big, complicated substructure that makes the novel work, and, if it's going to be translated, the translator really needs to have at least a basic understanding of that system. I asked the first translator many times to please meet with me about that, but she never did, and that was surely part of the translation's problem. Exact same thing with the second translator. The third translator said she's going to meet with me so I can explain the substructure, but I haven't heard a thing from her. I get it that they know it will make their work much harder, but, given that a translator is kind of like a secondary author, 'TMS' requires an understanding of how it works, and, without that, I don't see how a translation could be any good at all. So we'll see. ** Will C., Hi, Will! Too long time no see! Great! I've been very good, thank you. Sorry to hear about the longness of your months. If you want to say why, know that I'm all ears. But very awesome that you're writing and submitting again! What have you been working on? Can you say? Oh, yes, I need to start putting together my 2014 faves list, don't I? Okay. ** David Ehrenstein, Hey. Altman, yeah. So cool that you met him. That film you described does indeed sound most weird in the best possible way. You've seen it, yes? Did you go to the screening? ** Steevee, Oh, cool, about MoMA's Altman retro. I didn't know that. Fingers very crossed that you don't get sicker, man. How is that new Dumont? I haven't seen it yet, but I'm a real fan of his work. ** Bill, Hi, Bill. Thanks. My fave Altmans are 'McCabe & Mrs. Miller' and '3 Women', both of which would be in my all-time fave films list. I didn't get 'Gosford Park' when I saw it, but I was still looking for the qualities of Altman's earlier films, and it seems like I should see it again. ** Sickly, Hi. Yeah, gonna watch 'The Player' again for sure, cool. ** Kier, Hi, hi, hi! '3 Women' is totally amazing! I like 'Popeye'. It's really nuts, and Shelley Duvall is one of my gods, and her Olive Oyl is one of very best performances. I remember Pret-a-porter' being kind of bad, but I haven't seen it in ages. How was it? My faves, as I told Bill, are '3 Women' and 'McCabe & Mrs. Miller'. I really like that the farmer is named Bjarne. I like that name. I know it from somewhere. Oh, maybe because of that artist Bjarne Melgard. I was going to say that Brulle didn't look big in the photo, but it wasn't him! Wow, your work day sounds really strenuous. But, from the outside, that's exciting. I like that word feisty. Cool. Uh, my day ... the art world guy wanted to talk about all kinds of stuff -- guy is a big, big talker -- but I think the meeting was 'cos he wants me to do an event at the Paul McCarthy Chocolate Factory show, and I said okay, so he's going to interview me onstage about Paul and the LA art scene on December 23rd. I kind of don't like doing that kind of stuff, but the guy talks so much and so fast that I said okay before I even realized I had. So, that happened. Then I tried to hook up with my two visiting LA friends, but we misconnected, so I wasn't able to see them, which sucks. Then Zac and I went to Palais de Tokyo in the evening and saw the pretty good show there called 'Silence' and we just hung out for a while, and that was bliss, of course. Then I did some work before pooping out. Yeah, it was actually a good day, but I didn't make it sound very colorful. Oops. I'll try again tomorrow, and, until then, how did the current day sit with you? ** Zach, Hi. My pleasure, of course. Oh, God, 'statement of purpose', what a horrible form. To me, anyway. Demonic sounds about right. Ugh. I guess it's an interesting mental exercise to try to see yourself objectively. But then self-hyping is no fun. Or maybe it is, or maybe it could be. Sounds gross. Anyway, I hope you figured that out. 'Popeye' is a super weird movie, for sure. ** Tomáš, Hi again! Yeah, I still have my gmail address -- dcooperweb@gmail.com. I would love and could really need something for the blog, so that would be kind and amazing, man. Thank you! ** _Black_Acrylic, Xmas is sneaking in here. Some lights up, the windows at Galeries Lafayette are Xmas-tized, etc. Ooh, that 'The Magical Journey' scandal is so up my alley, obviously, I'll pore over that pronto. Yum. And I'll check out the video too. Everyone here's _B_A: 'There's an inspiring new video clip here of the weekend's Radical Independence conference in Glasgow. Cat Boyd has sure got some star quality.' The Ferguson verdict is both shocking and completely unsurprising. Horrible. Just fucking insane. ** Chilly Jay Chill, Hi, Jeff! I've only seen clips from 'Quintet', and I couldn't tell if it was amazing or a pretentious mess or something, but it did look like it was worth trying, for sure. It's from his peak, inspired period. I'm glad you're feeling better. Ugh. Dramatic news ... yikes. Sure, let's talk. I'm around and pretty free/talkable right now. When's good? I meet with Gisele tomorrow for feedback, and then I'll know if I've nailed down what she wants or whether I have more work to do. The eBook is being put together right now, and hopefully it'll get published soon, but it's kind of technically complicated, so hopefully there won't be delaying glitches. ** Keaton, Hey. Yeah, I'm not a big painting fan, but I always try, and I do get swept away at times. I like things that repeat but only if they're obsessive and if the repetition is intense and believable. I've never been to Dublin. Zac was there recently, and he liked it. ** Misanthrope, No rub or sauces, wow. That's quite a compliment to him. Nah, I mean, the Recollets let me live here a lot, lot longer than the rules allowed, so I'm grateful and all of that. That's exciting about painting your house. Are you going to participate? Does everybody need to sleep in tents in the backyard while that's happening? ** Sypha, The post is so great! Thank you again, James. Well, if I do this cycle, they'll be one work collectively, and that'll count as the last, 'tenth' novel. That's the idea, anyway. ** Right. Spend time with Cookie Mueller as she was presented 8 years ago please. She's awesome. See you tomorrow.

Rerun: Pierre Klossowski Day (orig. 11/24/06, 12/07/06, 01/09/07)

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'Pierre Klossowski (1905-2001) played a significant role in French art, literature, and philosophy from the 1930s through the 1980s. His writings rehabilitating the Marquis de Sade as a figure of legitimate literary significance and exploring the philosophical dimensions of pornography, as well as his own substantial corpus of erotic novels and drawings, drew attention from influential critics such as Maurice Blanchot, Gilles Deleuze, Jean-Francois Lyotard, and Jean Baudrillard. Born in Paris to Russian-Polish parents, and older brother to Balthazar (who would become famous as a painter under the name Balthus), Klossowski was mentored during his childhood by Rainer Maria Rilke (his mother's long-time companion after her separation from Klossowskiís father), then in the 1920s by Andre Gide, for whom he worked as private secretary and copyeditor of The Counterfeiters, a novel expressing Gide's philosophy of self-discovery through hedonism and sexual experimentation. Klossowski subsequently embarked on what would be a lifelong quest to blend these two formative influences by exploring the redemptive theological potential of sexually transgressive art.



'Andre Gide,' 1955


'Portrait of Georges Bataille,' 1955



'By the early 1930s, the Marquis de Sade had become Klossowski's hero, an affinity that he shared with Surrealists including Robert Desnos, Paul Eluard, and Georges Bataille. Unlike his peers, however, Klossowski was interested in the philosophical implications of Sadean pornography rather than in violence, excess, and immorality as tools of socio-political contestation. At the height of the Popular Front, Klossowski's trepidation regarding the use of art for political purposes and his fascination with the role of new technologies in artistic production led him to befriend Walter Benjamin, whose seminal essay 'The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction' he translated into French. Klossowski's deepening interest in theology and distaste for politics led him to join the Dominican order of La Lesse in late 1939. He spent the war studying and working as a chaplain in a Vichy internment camp for political prisoners but was never ordained, leaving the monastery shortly before the Liberation. An original member of the Dieu vivant discussion group formed in 1944 to work out the moral questions posed by the Occupation, Klossowski argued that the expression of extreme evil, whether in the form of Nazism or Sade's sociopathic embrace of perversity--a topic explored in his 1947 book, Sade mon prochain -- is, in fact, morally redemptive because it prompts spiritual resistance through acts of kindness, thereby reawakening and strengthening humanity's impulse toward good.



'Le jeune Ogier ...,' 1972


'Le balcon,' 1974



'Klossowski's career as a creative artist began in 1954 with the publication of Roberte Tonight, the first in a series of self-illustrated, neo-Sadean novels whose heroine is, shockingly, an alter ego of the authorís wife Denise, a former deportee and survivor of Ravensbruck whom he married in 1947. The novels, later collected under the title The Laws of Hospitality, recount the adventures of Octave, an aging Catholic scholar who willingly gives his wife to all willing guests in their home so that he may experience voyeuristic pleasure and provide his nephew Antoine with a sexual education. As with Sade, it is at first glance difficult to discern any philosophical or theological message at work in such an apparently one-dimensional narrative, but Maurice Blanchot lauded Klossowski's work as 'a new gnosis [that] brings to literature what it has lacked since Lautreamont' and 'a sacrilege that attests to the sacred, for if transgression requires an interdict, the sacred requires sacrilege, so that the sacred, which is only witnessed through the impure speech of blasphemy, will not cease to be indissociably bound to a power always capable of transgression.'



Pierre Zucca, 'La Monnale vivante,' 1970


Pierre Zucca, 'Le Monnale vivante,' 1970



'During the 1970s Klossowski found new means of expression using the technologies of 'mechanical reproduction' that captivated the imagination of his old friend Walter Benjamin. He turned first to photography, working with Pierre Zucca on an illustrated version of La Monnaie vivante (which develops the idea that money might usefully be replaced by a 'libidinal economy' in which sex is the only valid currency), then to film adaptations of his novels, first by Zucca, then by Chilean director Raoul Ruiz. As Klossowski mentions in his essay 'The Indiscernible,' cinema allowed him to flout all the conventions of movie-star culture and commercial filmmaking, both mainstream and pornographic; in that sense he shares the preoccupations of Robert Bresson, in whose film Au Hazard Balthazar (1967) he appeared briefly.



'Roberte aux barres paralleles,' 1990


'Diane et Acteon,' 1990



'Klossowski produced three sculptures in the 1990s. From his apartment in Paris, where he lived with his wife Denise, he continued to inspire generation after generation until his death in 2001. Even in death, Pierre Klossowski was inevitably linked with his younger brother, the painter Balthus. Almost all obituaries of the artist, writer, and translator, who died in Paris at age ninety-six, mentioned that his more famous sibling had died only six months earlier. Both vied in wry self-deprecation: Balthus summed up his own painting by saying, "I do surrealism in the style of Courbet," while Klossowski claimed to be no artist, writer, thinker, or philosopher "but first, foremost, and always, a monomaniac." Of Klossowski’s death, French Culture minister Catherine Tasca said, "A man of immense culture has left us. I’m sure that Klossowski’s writing, and his painting, too, will remain an inspiration in the years and decades to come."'

Note: Most of the above text was taken from the writings of Brett Bowles in H-France and Benjamin Ivry in Artforum Magazine

* Pierre Klossowski survey show at Whitechapel Gallery, London
* Wikipedia entry
* One man's tribute to Pierre Klossowski
* Roberte Ce Soir and The Revocation of the Edict of Nante
---

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“I am still and will always be fourteen years old… in my fourteen years I have more memories than if I had lived a thousand…” Pierre Klossowski, in an unpublished conversation with Hans-Ulrich Obrist of 1998.




'Socrate interrogeant le jeune Charmide,' 1984


'Roberte interceptee par les routiers III,' 1972


'Tarquin en Lucretia,' 1980




'La Cuisine de Gilles,' 1976



'Let it be said, Klossowski's drawings are odd. Look at La cuisine de Gilles (1976) in which an effeminate boy is fondled and bitten fireside by the 15th century nobleman Gilles de Rais, infamous for his murderous sexual debauchery, necrophilia, and unshakable Catholic faith. Look at Roberte, naked and sleeping with a fully dressed, wand-waving lilliputian Gulliver on her knees in Roberte et Gulliver I, (1980). Look, in Tarquin et Lucrèce (1976), at the flattened space from which Tarquin is supposed to be emerging, the way Lucrecia's leg slides off her improbable bed, or the way, despite the struggle, one of her ankles remains delicately covered. There is something both absurd and strangely disquieting about Klossowski's large-scale erotic renderings, a fact compounded by their lack of perspective, technical sophistication, and finish. In his graphic oeuvre, one will not find a single landscape or still life, no pretty Arcadias and no studies of baskets of fruit. Klossowski made a specialty of overtly theatrical tableaux vivants. In them, figures appear off balance and out of proportion, frequently supplicating, reprimanding or seducing (and gesturing with their other hand against this at that same time), and often in some state of undress. They look as if they are suspended - in action and in another time.

'In their subject matter as in their style, the drawings relentlessly evoke long outmoded places, moments, and forms: Classical Greece, Late Antiquity, Early Renaissance frescos, Sadean decadence, sinuous Baroque poses, Catholic ritual. Repetition and citation are central to these artifacts. For the most part, his drawings are stages in which his literary characters appear. He draws and redraws Roberte from his novel Roberte Ce Soir above all, but also, Diane, Lucrecia, or Judith (who all appear with the unmistakable likeness of Klossowski's wife, model, and muse, Denise), as well as the young Ogier, Tarquin, Gulliver, the Marquis de Sade, and any number of clerics, saints, and dwarfs. Androgynous women and effeminate boys inhabit the world of mystical visions, moral instruction, theological initiation, and carnal corruption that Klossowski speaks of in his novels. His drawings thus inescapably recall his literary works, which are themselves filled with descriptions of paintings, photographs, and projected images. Depicting characters from Klossowski's final novel Le Baphomet (1965), the drawings La Tour de la Méditation (1976) and Ogier morigénant le frère Damiens (1990) portray scenes of erotic ambiguity in contexts lined with the symbols of religious order (Christian crosses, ecclesiastical dress, Latin church text…). This mix of nudity, sexual innuendo, and theological references - so characteristic of his oeuvre - should make the images shocking, difficult, or scandalous. But in their strangeness and curious instability, they manage to be endlessly puzzling and captivating instead. Untranslatable from or into words, Klossowski's drawings are never mere illustrations of his novels and, invariably, they resist and retell the written narratives from which they seem to emerge.'-- Elena Filipovic

Elena Filipovic is a Paris based independent curator and art historian completing a study on Marcel Duchamp and the museum.

image: Pierre Klossowski with his model Alexandre Nahon circa 1985




'Schaukeistul,' 1976


'Le Baphomet offrant ses services au Grand Maitre,' 1982


'Esquise pour le petite rose,' 1974-1980


'Magiciennes Romaines,' 1980


'Vittorino Offrant Roberte a son neveu,' 1980



'For Klossowski, the work of art is not an autonomous entity but the site of a demonic complicity that begins with the artist and his particular obsession or phantasm, and is then (potentially) repeated in the experience of the viewer. It is demonic, because for Klossowski the unconscious psychic phantasms that psychoanalysis asserts are imaginary, are both exterior to the subject and completely real.

'A demon thus conceived is a virtual entity, a kind of intermediary between the human and the inaccessible divine, but it requires an image or simulacrum in order to be actualized. This conception of art led Klossowski to an idiosyncratic understanding of art’s supposed mimetic relationship to the real. For Klossowski it was an error of realism to believe that the mimetic function of art should lie in a reproduction of the real world, an error that is only compounded by the rejection of mimesis in contemporary abstract art in favour of “broken objects, [and] images gone to pieces.”

'The idea that technical practices such as photography have freed painting from the need to represent the real world is for Klossowski a complete misunderstanding of the mimetic function of art that also underestimates the mimetic power of photography and cinema. Instead, mimesis should be understood as the reproduction of a phantasm, or the tracing of a demonic encounter that actualizes and makes communicable an otherwise virtual, but perfectly real force. Figurative, or as Deleuze says figural art, considered as a block of sensation or a phantasm caught in an image, in other words as a simulacrum, can only “reproduce the demonic strategy,” by producing the same condition in the viewer as originally experienced by the artist in submitting to the phantasm. For Klossowski this demonic complicity, as opposed to the subjectivity of the artist, explains the haunting power of works of art: “What then sustains the action of a “finished picture,” if not the coming and going of this “demonic” presence, between the artist and his simulacrum, the simulacrum and its viewer.”' -- Michael Goddard

from 'Hypothesis of the Stolen Aesthetics.' Read the rest here.

image: Eugen Spiro, Pierre and Balthus Playing Soldiers





'Ganymede,' 1978


'La récupération de la plus-value,' 1980


'Les barres parallèles(II),' 1976


'Le commendeur succombant a la pose provocante d'Ogier,' 1981


'La Nef de Fous,' 1988-1990



'In an artistic career that spanned half a century he could not really be said to have honed his technique. Rather, he worked tirelessly on the elaboration of certain obsessions, notably the insertion of the face and body of his wife, Denise - the model for the extravagantly ravished Roberte - into an apparently unending succession of erotic tableaux. The drawings are resolutely awkward. Their solecisms of scale and proportion are not so much evidence of formal naivety as invitations to address something that is, for Klossowski, far more pressing: the realm of gesture.

'Time and again, whatever the prodigiously imagined scenario into which the artist has thrust her, Roberte adopts the same pose. Everything in these drawings, which expose her to grips and gazes, either malign or merely curious (as in the many images where she is seized by small boys), is actually in the arrangement of her hands. Whether beset by the sinister guardsman in Roberte ce soir, pawed and pored over by adolescents or cast in further fictionalized settings (the classical rape of Lucretia by Tarquin, the strange arrival of Jonathan Swift's diminutive Gulliver at the end of her bed), Roberte holds one hand close and closed, the other raised and open. Often her raised hand shields the eyes of her attacker while the other is thrust between her legs (the cue for questionable conjectures by Klossowski's narrators as to whether she is protecting herself or guiding her assailant). But the pose is not always a response to violence; it is to be seen too in the drawings of Roberte (or Denise) alone. One hand curled, the other splayed, Roberte, as the title of one drawing has it, is 'mad about her body'.' -- Brian Dillon

from 'In the Realm of the Senses' in Frieze Magazine. Read the rest.

image: Denise Klossowski, undated


*
more Pierre Klossowski artworks
* buy 'Phantasm and Simulacra: The Drawings of Pierre Klossowski' (Autonomedia)
* buy 'The Decadence of the Nude: The Work of Pierre Klossowski' (Black Dog Press)
* download Tracey McNulty's "Hospitality after the Death of God: Pierre Klossowski's 'Les lois de l'hospitalité'"


________________





Sometimes work by writers destined for the blog can be quickly found online, accessed with links and/or copied and pasted from their respective sites. But others have yet to make the switch from page to webpage. Klossowski is one of the latter types. Search hard and long as I did, I found very little I could use to populate this day. Not a single excerpt from any of his novels, and only a couple of nonfiction shards. So this last of the Klossowski days is necessarily more of a suggestive aside than a closing argument. Needless to say, I think his writings -- esp. the novel trilogy The Laws of Hospitality (Roberte Ce Soir, The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and Le Souffleur,) and his books on Sade (Sade, My Neighbor) and Nietzsche (Nietzche and the Vicious Circle) are very worth your attention. But unfortunately, due to the abovementioned problem, you'll have to take my and a few other people's words for it.


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Reading Pierre Klossowski

John Taylor


Let’s take Pierre Klossowski (1905-2001) at his word, and read him with his favorite word. He claimed to “fabricate simulacra.” What exactly did the French writer mean? The word “simulacrum” is restricted by English usage to “a representation of something (image, effigy),” to “something having the form but not the substance of a material object (imitation, sham),” and to “a superficial likeness (appearance, semblance).” Contemporary French understands the term similarly, while maintaining traces of more concrete Latin meanings: “statue (of a pagan god),” even “phantom.” Interestingly, French adds “a simulated act” to these semantic possibilities, as in Raymond Queneau’s amusing description in Zazie in the Metro: “He took his head in his hands and performed the futile simulacrum (fit le futile simulacre) of tearing it off.” For Roman writers, a simulacrum could also be “a material representation of ideas” (and not just that of a deity), as well as “a moral portrait.”

One must think in Latin when reading Klossowski. All of the above meanings inform the strange and disturbing erotic fiction of this writer who not only produced The Baphomet (1965) and the trilogy Les lois de l’hospitalité (The Laws of Hospitality) (1954-1965), but also translated Suetonius, Virgil, and Saint Augustine (alongside Kafka, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Wittgenstein, Hölderlin, and Heidegger). The author’s intimacy with Latin, and with Latin literature, cannot be overemphasized. So strong was his attachment that it clearly affected his French syntax and diction, as if the dead language had somehow survived in him—a second mother tongue, both nourishing and competing with a first one. Possessing an antiquarian atmosphere all its own (especially in The Baphomet), Klossowski’s style disorients readers unaware of this linguistic background (which includes, moreover, his consorting with liturgical and biblical Latin during his World War II years spent as a Dominican novitiate). May it be said that Klossowski’s meticulously quaint style is itself a simulacrum of sorts, a conscious transposition into French of the spirit of Latin, a modern-day linguistic specter of a once-vital source that has been lost and in this way “recovered”?

(Read the rest)


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fromOf the Simulacrum in Georges Bataille's Communication


Pierre Klossowski


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The contents of experience that Bataille declares as being so many sovereign moments--ecstasy, anguish, laughter, erotic and sacrificial effusion -- these contents together illustrate that revolt which is here only a call to the silent authority of a pathos with neither goal nor meaning, experienced as an immediate apprehension of the flight of being, and whose discontinuity exerts an incessant intimidation vis-à-vis language.

----No doubt, for Bataille, these movements of pathos only present themselves as sovereign moments because they verify the discontinuous itself and are produced as ruptures of thought; however, these are contents of experience that in fact differ greatly from one another with respect to discontinuity, as soon as they become so many objects of a meditation. How could laughter, as a reaction to the sudden passage from the known to the unknown--where consciousness intervenes just as suddenly, since Bataille declares: "to laugh is to think" 9 --how could laughter be comparable to ecstasy or to erotic effusion, in spite of their "reactive" affinities in the face of a same object? How could it be comparable to ecstasy in particular since the latter would result from a group of mental operations subordinated to a goal? It is a similar difficulty that Bataille himself emphasizes and takes pleasure in lingering over, as over an enterprise beyond hope from the beginning. If these sovereign moments are so many examples of the discontinuous and of the flight of being, then as soon as mediation considers them as its object, it reconstitutes all the unsuspected stages that pathos burned in its sudden appearance--and the language of a process that is only suitable for vulgar operations10 does nothing here but conceal the modalities of the absence of thought, under the pretext of describing them and reflecting them in consciousness, and thus seeks to lend to pathos, in itself discontinuous, the greatest continuity possible, just as it seeks to reintegrate the most being possible. Thus because (notional) language makes the study and the search for the sovereign moment contradictory, inaccessible by its sudden appearance, there where silence imposes itself, the simulacrum imposes itself at the same time. Indeed the aimed-for moments that are sovereign only retrospectively, since the search must henceforth coincide with an unpredictable movement of pathos--these moments appear by themselves as simulacra of the apprehension of the flight of being outside of existence, and thus as simulacra of the discontinuous. How can the contents of the experience of pathos keep their "sovereign" character of an expenditure tending towards pure loss, of a prodigality without measure, if the purpose of this meditation is to raise oneself up to this level through an ''inner" reexperience, thus producing for oneself a "profit"? Will the authenticity of these moments--the very authenticity of wastage--not be already compromised, as soon as it is "retained" as a "value"? How, finally, would they sufficiently escape from notional language in order to be recognized only as simulacra? It is precisely the same for ecstasy, which is at the same time a content of authentic experience, and a value, since it is a sovereign moment, but which only escapes from notional language by revealing itself to be a simulacrum of death. This in a meditation that amounts to fighting with all the strength of thought against the very act of thinking. "If the death of thought is pushed to the point where it is sufficiently dead thought, so that it is no longer either despairing or in anguish, then there is no longer any difference between the death of thought and ecstasy. ... There is, therefore, beginning with the death of thought, a new realm open to knowledge; based on non-knowledge, a new knowledge is possible.

(Read the rest here)

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fromThe Translator's Preface

Daniel W. Smith


Pierre Klossowski’s Nietzsche and the Vicious Circle ranks alongside Martin Heidegger’s Nietzsche and Gilles Deleuze's Nietzsche and Philosophy as one of the most important and influential, as well as idiosyncratic, readings of Nietzsche to have appeared in Europe. When it was originally published in 1969, Michel Foucault, who frequently spoke of his indebtedness to Klossowski’s work, penned an enthusiastic letter to its author. ‘It is the greatest book of philosophy I have read,’ he wrote, ‘with Nietzsche himself.’ Nietzsche and the Vicious Circle was in fact the result of a long apprenticeship. Under the influence of Georges Bataille, Klossowski first began reading Nietzsche in 1934, ‘in competition with Kierkegaard’. During the next three decades, he published a number of occasional pieces on Nietzsche: an article in a special issue of the journal Acéphale devoted to the question of ‘Nietzsche and the Fascists’ (1937); reviews of Karl Löwith’s and Karl Jasper’s books on Nietzsche (1939); an introduction to his own translation of The Gay Science (1954); and most importantly, a lecture presented to the Collège de Philosophie entitled ‘Nietzsche, polytheism, and parody’ (1957), which Deleuze later praised for having ‘renewed the interpretation of Nietzsche’.

----It was not until the 1960s, however, that Klossowski seems to have turned his full attention to Nietzsche. Nietzsche and the Vicious Circle grew out of a paper entitled ‘Forgetting and anamnesis in the lived experience of the eternal return of the same’, which Klossowski presented at the famous Royaumont conference on Nietzsche in July 1964. Over the next few years, Klossowski published a number of additional articles that were ultimately gathered together in Nietzsche and the Vicious Circle in 1969. The primary innovation of the study lay in the importance it gave to Nietzsche’s experience of the Eternal Return at Sils-Maria in August 1881, of which Klossowski provided a new and highly original interpretation. The book was one of the primary texts in the explosion of interest in Nietzsche that occurred in France around 1970, and it exerted a profound influence on Deleuze and Guattari’s Anti-Oedipus (1972) and Lyotard’s Libidinal Economy (1975). In July 1972, a second major conference on Nietzsche took place in France at Cerisy-la-Safle, which included presentations by Deleuze, Derrida, Lyotard, Nancy, Lacoue-Labarthe and Gandillac, among many others. Klossowski’s contribution was a paper entitled ‘Circulus vitiosus’, which analysed what he called the ‘conspiracy’ (complot) of the eternal return. It was the last text he would write on Nietzsche.

(Read the rest here)

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fromNietszche and the Vicious Circle

Pierre Klossowski


"When a god wanted to be the only God, all the other gods were gripped by mad laughter to the point of _dying_ of laughter. For what is the divine if not the fact that there be several gods and not God alone?"


Laughter is here the supreme image, the supreme manifestation of the divine reabsorbing the articulated gods [_les dieux prononces_], and articulating the gods through a new burst of laughter; for if the gods die from this laughter, it is also _from this laughter which bursts forth from the ground of all truth_ that the gods are reborn. One must follow Zarathustra to the end of his adventure to see the refutation of the need to create in relation to and against necessity, as a _denunciation_ of this _solidarity_ between the _three_ forces of _eternalisation_, _adoration_ and _creation_, these three cardinal virtues in Nietzsche, where one sees that the death of God and the distress of the fundamental eros, the distress of the need to adore are identical; a distress that the need to create holds up to ridicule as its own failure. For if it is the failure of a single instinct, the mockery which compensates for it is no less inscribed in the necessity of the eternal return: Zarathustra, once he has willed the eternal return of all things, has in advance chosen to see his own doctrine ridiculed, as if _laughter, this infallible murderer_, was not also the best inspiration, as well as the best despiser of this same doctrine; _thus the eternal return of all things wills also the return of the gods_. What other sense, if not this one, can we attribute to the extraordinary parody of the Last Supper where God's murderer is also the one who offers the chalice to the donkey - sacrilegious figure of the Christian God from the time of the pagan reaction, but more specifically the sacred animal of the ancient mysteries, the _golden_ donkey of the Isiac [_isiaque_ - ? to do with Isis?] initiation, an animal dignified by his indefatigable _Ia_(2) - its indefatigable _yes_ given to the return of all things - worthy of representing divine forbearance, worthy also thus of incarnating an ancient divinity, Dionysus, the god of the vine, resuscitated in the general drunkenness. And, effectively, as the Traveller declares to Zarathustra: _death, with the gods, is never anything but a prejudice_.

(Read the rest of an excerpt here)


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The Physiognomy of The Unique Sign: On Pierre Klossowski's Afterword to The Laws of Hospitality

Albert Liu


In 1965, Pierre Klossowski published his extraordinary set of novels, La Révocation de l'Edit de Nantes, Roberte Ce Soir, and Le Souffleur under the collective title of Les Lois de l'Hospitalité - The Laws of Hospitality. In an eighteen-page afterword, Klossowski describes the particular set of circumstances that led him to write the novels. Of this afterword, Blanchot (1971) said, "these are the most dramatic pages an abstract writing could give us today." Blanchot in fact shies away from interpreting the text, citing its extreme difficulty. Despite this caveat, I will propose a reading of this brief afterword, to show how just a year or two before Foucault's The Order of Things and Derrida's Of Grammatology inaugurated a reinterpretation of Western culture along the lines of what Gianni Vattimo has called "post-structuralism's linguistic idealism," Klossowski, with his characteristic singlemindedness, elaborated a perverse semiotic in which the sign's dominance is no less absolute but in no way dependent on notions of arbitrariness or difference.

This is Klossowski's way of posing the following question: "Can a couple multiply itself otherwise than by having children, deploying, projecting, deepening, exalting, caricaturing themselves - can they each time recreate, re-wed themselves in another dimension - and all the while remain the same without ever exhausting their resources?" To approach this question, one might have expected a lengthy discourse on sexuality, reproduction, and voyeurism, but strangely enough, Klossowski's explanation seems to amount only to a jumble of abstractions and baroque terminologies. The afterword begins as follows:

"At the end of a period in which I was led three times in a row to the same theme, resulting in three validations, the phenomenon of thought came back to me - how it is produced, with its rises, its falls and its absences-when one day, having sought to relate some circumstances from my life, I soon came to be reduced to a sign".

Seized by what he will call the signe unique, the unique sign, in this case the name "Roberte," Klossowski is trapped between the madness of the obsessive word and the perfect lucidity of its coherence. I present some representative excerpts from the text to give a sense of how it begins relatively coherently and very quickly goes haywire:

"Fascinated by the name Roberte as a sign, while I was in the garden seeing nothing more of the sunny greenery around me having no other vision than the unstable penumbra in which the glow of her ungloved hand played - I resolved to describe what might happen in the penumbra, which was illusory. In the name Roberte I referred all that I saw, which I would not have been able to see without this name.


"The penumbra, the glow of her epidermis, the glove, these are so many designations not of things existing here within my reach, but forming a set in conformity with the unreal penumbra ...

"Will I still claim that it is not "representation" and that thought belongs to itself alone, not as my faculty, but as an intensity that found me here, in the middle of the greenery?... Will I say it is not I who designate what I understand by penumbra but thought, outside of me, which sees itself in the terms penumbra, epidermis, glove, etc.?

"But haven't I said that the sign's malice consisted in answering, as name, to a physiognomy exterior to the sign?


"And, indeed, it seemed that the shadow projected by the sign onto the reality of the world covered over so perfectly the physiognomy exterior to the sign that it dissimulated it under this name...."


"But, unable to limit myself to the simple coincidence of the name with this physiognomy seeking instead an equivalent to this coincidence, under the constraint the sign exercised over me, yet seeking the sort of equivalent as much to escape my madness as its constraint, though not being able to keep myself to the shadow of the sign...

"From the moment I set myself to describing this very physiognomy in the notation of the utterances flowing, outside of time, from the name Roberte, and from the moment that, in these discontinuous facts, it figured, no longer by its mere coincidence with the name, but as physiognomy, which until then was exterior to the sign that had covered it over with its shadow, the description of the shadow itself came to establish the contours of the physiognomy as its participation in external reality, and this physiognomy emerged as if from itself from the shadow spread over reality by the sign...."


"What did the silence of this physiognomy opposed to its name as sign amount to? Was the sign to be taken as a portrait? Wasn't it the model, since it had become this sign?... Instead of the equivalent to the madness I had avoided, I found between the silence of the physiognomy and the silence of the appreciation of the outside, a portrait. But since it was still a question of juggling the unique sign, I wanted to exploit this silence of the portrait to make a painting... Then, this portrait, suddenly peopled with other figures, became a painting destined to teach through its image. But the lesson taught by the image is only the institution of a custom: the laws of hospitality."

(Read the rest)


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Diacritics was one of the first academic journals to bring continental theory to the US. Historically its preferred mode has been the review article that analyzes in detail the theoretical arguments and assumptions of the most significant books in the humanities and social sciences. It periodically publishes special issues on topics or on thinkers of great current interest. Forthcoming soon in that regard is:

Whispers of the Flesh: Essays in Memory of Pierre Klossowski
Special editors, Ian James and Russell Ford

Pierre Klossowski - novelist, essayist, painter, and translator - was one of the most startling, original, and influential figures in twentieth-century French intellectual culture. Confined thus far to an undeserved but somehow fitting shadow existence in the margins and notes of theorists who have become mainstays of Anglo-American criticism, Klossowski's own work has increasingly become a focus of critical interest for its decisive contribution to the development of thought and aesthetics in France from the 1950s on. Contributions by Patrick Amstutz, Peter Canning, Russell Ford, Ian James, Eleanor Kaufman, Alphonso Lingis, Tracy McNulty, and Daniel W. Smith.

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Japanese Pierre Klossowski Info Site
Buy Pierre Klossowski's books
'Pierre Klossowski's' myspace page

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Bibliography

* (English)/(French) Sade my neighbour (Quartet Bks., 1992, ISBN 0-7043-0155-5; original French ed. Sade mon prochain, Paris, Seuil, 1947)
* (French) La Vocation suspendue (Paris: Gallimard,1950)
* (French) Un si funeste désir (Paris: Gallimard, 1963)
* (English)/(French) The Baphomet (Marsilio Pub, 1992, ISBN 0-941419-73-8 ; original French ed. Le Baphomet, Paris, Mercure de France, 1965)
* (French) Les Lois de l'hospitalité (Paris: Gallimard, 1965) (trilogy of the 'Roberte' novels: La Révocation de l'Édit de Nantes (1959), Roberte ce soir (1954), and Le Souffleur (1960))
* (English)/(French) Roberte Ce Soir and the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, Dalkey Archive Press, 2002, ISBN 1-56478-309-X
* (English)/(French) Nietzsche and the Vicious Circle (University of Chicago Press, 1998, ISBN 0-226-44387-6; other ed. 2001 ISBN 0-485-12133-6; original version Paris, Mercure de France, 1969)
* (English)/(French) Diana at Her Bath/the Women of Rome Marsilio Publishers, 1998, ISBN 1-56886-055-2 (original edition Le Bain de Diane, Paris, Gallimard, 1980)
* (French) Écrits d'un monomane: Essais 1933-1939 (Paris: Gallimard, 2001)
* (French) Tableaux vivants: Essais critiques 1936-1983 (Paris: Gallimard, 2001)
* (French) L'adolescent immortel (Paris: Gallimard, 2001)
* (French) La Monnaie vivante (Paris: Gallimard, 2003)




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p.s. Hey. ** Bitter69uk, Hey, man! Always a real pleasure! Cool re: the timing, and I just yesterday got my hands on the self-same 'Edgewise', so the timing is bordering on paranormal maybe. How are you? ** Hyemin kim, Hi. Oh, of course I know that post. Let me find it. Hold on a second. Here it is. Oh, no, I'm just tender in the ribs at this point. If the doctor wasn't lying, I should feel pretty normal in a few days, but I'm not supposed to actually be normal for another three weeks, so I have to make sure I don't pick up a huge boulder or anything until then. Thanks a lot again! ** MyNeighbour JohnTurtorro, Hi, MNJT. Really good to see you, man! The pixies, ha ha. Trolls, actually, of the pre-'internet troll' sort, or that's what the Icelanders call them. Thanks about the gig. I'm putting together the next one. So much good stuff lately. Life is, yes, several shades of busy, and very good. I've never seen Tim Hecker live. I've missed every chance. Envy. Alex G is crossing the ocean? I hope he comes to Paris. I'll check wherever such information resides. I wonder if he's touring here with Foxes in Fiction 'cos I saw that they're heading over this way too. I guess he must have a band when he plays live? I'd love to see him live, for sure, cool. What's up in general on your end? ** David Ehrenstein, Gotta see 'The Company', obviously. I don't know how it slipped by. And I'll go see your Ferguson take. Everyone, Mr. Ehrenstein weighs in on Ferguson under the title 'Joseph L. Mankiewicz Explains It All For You' in his inimitable style on his inimitable FaBlog here. I haven't seen 'Short Cuts' since it was released originally, but, yeah, I really didn't like it, largely, as I recall, because I just thought it didn't get those Carver stories right in any shape or form, but, hey I'll try it again. ** Tosh Berman, Hi, Tosh. Really interesting thoughts on translation. I've heard that about the French noir translations. I wish I could read them. And of course I've always wished I could read Baudelaire's Poe translations, which supposedly really reinvent Poe's prose, which would be fascinating since, well, for me, Poe's not so great prose is a really catch in his work. Anyway, I'm with you totally, from my perspective. I don't think the translators are necessarily fans of my stuff, but I really don't know for sure. Wait, in a couple of situations, they were, now that I think about it. I think my publisher tries to choose people who, one, are comfortable with the subject matter and with my approach, and, two, who have translated 'difficult' books, whether that means DFW or Vollman or whoever. Bon day, sir! ** Kier, Hi! Mueller's awesome. And her writing is actually really funny and smart. What do Norwegians do on 'Little Christmas'? I think the Dutch have something like that. I remember when I lived there that there was this day pre-Xmas when Father Santa or whatever they call him would make this big arrival by boat into Amsterdam through the canals, and everybody would line the canals and wave and throw things at him. Nice things like, I don't know, flowers and candy and stuff. Really glad you've gotten some of the technical stuff on the way to being sorted. That's so exciting! My day ... uh, first I let myself reenter my long dormant novel and start wrapping it around my head for the first in my months, and that was good, and I still really like it. Then Zac and I went to the opening of the Jeff Koons retrospective at the Pompidou. But it was more like a preview for people in-the-know than a star-studded Opening kind of thing. I was surprised that I kind of enjoyed the show. I liked his really early stuff back in the '80s, and, seeing the whole trajectory, I don't know, I sort of thought it was fun or something, and I wasn't offended or anything. That was interesting. Then we checked out some galleries and had coffee and went book shopping and hung out for a while. Then he went back to work on the early, very raw editing of our film, and I came back here and wrote a little. I conferred with Gisele about the dummies/puppets for the new ventriloquist piece. Gisele designed them, and this really great, famous puppet maker named Hagen Tilp is making them, and they look amazing in progress. I wrote to Elias from Iceage and told him that Zac and I would love to meet and hang out with him when he's here for Iceage show, and I'm waiting to see if he's into that. It was kind of a nerdy email. I had a few minutes, and I tried to make a new blog post, but I realized it wasn't good, or else wouldn't become good without some time spent, so I gave up and picked out this rerun post instead. I had a really nice Skype conversation with Chilly Jay Chill. And I think that was mostly what happened. What happened on Wednesday, pal? ** Keaton, Hi. Yeah, people love painting. It's really interesting. I'm weird to be so hard to convince when it comes to painting. But I know a few like me. Zac's like me. I just always liked sculptures and installations and videos better, even when I was a wee lad. Paris doesn't feel very haunted, or not to me, which is actually really strange when you think about it, but it must be haunted, right? I mean if anywhere is. ** _Black_Acrylic, That event sounds/looks cool. What is Plastik like? What is its bent? Awesome that you've entered the pre-stretch stretch! ** Zach, Hi. Yay, Baltimore. Or, yay about you going there at the very least! I was there twice. I liked it. John Waters made me lunch at his house once. Cool. Yeah, the q&a was tricky, but ... I don't know, somehow I feel like when you're doing something like that in the air, live or whatever, you have so much more room to move, and I feel like the listeners know it's spontaneous and don't take it as seriously. When you write something, it ends up being so dead set. It's intense. ** Chilly Jay Chill, Really good talking to you too, Jeff! I did read 'Nicola, Milan'. I think it was in one of my '4 books ... ' posts. It's lovely, yeah, really good, tight and very well written, I agree. ** Misanthrope, Both hella cool and funny maybe even. Oops. Crack your windows at least. ** Sypha, Hi. I should still be here at the big R. until early next year, maybe until February or something, I think, I hope. Oh, shit, scary about your grandmother. That stuff is so complicatedly painful and confusing. I feel for you, my friend. Hugs. ** Right. Another rerun today. You might get one more before I catch up. This one used to be three separate posts that added up to one over time, and now it's officially just one. The great Pierre Klossowksi! Hope it's of interest. See you tomorrow.

Rerun: Day in which my blog becomes a pew in the chapel of Ivan (orig. 02/18/06)

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'Nicknamed Heidi for his boyish, freckled face and stoic demeanor, Ivan was one of the reigning Russian gay porn stars between the year 2002 and 2004. He modeled for most of the top Russian porn sites of that time, appearing in both soft- and hardcore sets. In the typical Ivan porn, he was the mysterious and self-absorbed goody two shoes seduced by a slightly older looking, more experienced friend/ schoolmate/ brother. Porn audiences clamored for his awkward but agreeable demeanor and his ability to mimic virginity while bottoming for extremely well hung tops without batting an eyelash. A complex young man who was uncomfortable with how he'd been pigeonholed, Ivan developed a reputation in the industry for being difficult and eccentric, fighting with webmasters' and fans' expectations by showing up for photo sessions with unexpected and counterproductive image makeovers -- a s&m leather boy, an extravagantly coifed and made up glam rocker, an emaciated Goth, a trashy transvestite. When the popular twink porn website Doggy Boys dropped Ivan from its stable of models in 2003, the outcry from the site's subscribers caused the site to defend itself by publicly airing Ivan's drug habits, his battle with anorexia, his violent outbursts, his having overdosed on heroin during two successive photo shoots. Ivan's career further faltered when he refused to appear in XXX videos, despite lucrative offers from many of the top porn production companies in Russia, Europe, and the US. At the height of his popularity at the age of 22, Ivan suddenly retired from porn with a tantrum-like and expletive filled open letter to the world that was posted on the now defunct porn site boyfestival.com in which he claimed his fans' desire for him had burned his brain and heart into "lumps of charcoal" and that if they wanted to fuck him so badly they should come to Russia and do it and "stop staring at me with all your psycho eyes". In late 2004, the Russian porn company Dolphin announced that it had offered Ivan a princely sum to come out of retirement and star in a new video but that he had shown up to work in what they vaguely described as "a physically unappealing state," and they "had done a favor for Ivan's fans" by canceling the production. His current whereabouts are unknown.'-- '06


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p.s. Hey. Today's rerun, which should be the last one you'll be faced with for a while, goes way, way back. At the time this first appeared, practically every second or third post had a Russian twink porn star somewhere in it. It was a differently abled blog then. Strange. Anyway, I thought I'd harken back there for a day. ** Paul Curran, Hey, Paul! How's it, man? Seriously, get to Iceland at some point. It's something else. So, what's going on? How's the writing? How's holy Tokyo? ** Will C., Hi, Will. Holy shit, man, that was absolutely an intense, weird spate. Jesus. You sound remarkably sound considering. Any pleasure and/or potential subject matter in the library job? Really glad you're back. ** Keaton, Hi. Yeah, I know people feel that way about painting, and it makes almost total sense. It's like cinema in a rectangle or something, right? I don't know. I think maybe I like being made nervous by art? Oh, wow, that's interesting. Comparing painting to boys carcass-posing. That might be the best explanation of painting's staying power I've read. Fauvism is ripe for a comeback maybe. I get what you say about paintings letting you explore them and stuff. Obviously, sculpture, etc. does that too, but it interferes all the time, which I guess I like. Don't know why. Who knows why anything hits the spot. Really nice Paris rhapsody. I totally get it. That atmospheric thing doesn't wear off when you live here. It's weird. Cool, glad you liked the post. Right, paintings, huh, interesting. Is it ... ? It is Thanksgiving. Whoa. Why is it always on a Thursday? So, yeah, I hope you like eating stuff and whatever else this day does to Americans, I can't remember. Oh right, parade. And football games on TV or something. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. Yeah, that's why I need to see 'Short Cuts' again and force-forget that it's Carver-based 'cos that expectation around adaptations usually is a bad weight to put on films. ** Tosh Berman, Hi. I was in the Lion Cafe! Cool. Stumbled across it. I think, if I'm remembering right, that his relationship with Balthus was troubled and beset with jealousies and stuff, but that they were close, in contact, and all that. But I'm not swearing to that. PK was definitely one of the first brainy public Sade proponents. His essay, which is one of those Grove Press Sade books, is very, very good, as you probably know. ** Kier, Hi, hi Kier! I think a lot of Americans open their presents on the 24th. My family didn't. I never could understand the night before thing. Opening presents in the morning and then having all day to play with them or whatever always seemed really sensible, at least when my presents were mostly toys. I think the French open theirs on the 24th too? Oh, okay, it's 'set up the tree' night. Yeah, I think we used to set ours up weeks before. It's all so strange. I didn't buy any books because, even though there were a few cool ones -- it was a book sale at the Yvon Lambert Gallery's bookstore -- the place's idea of a sale was to maybe knock a few Euros off, so they were still very pricey. Wow, that show is opening in Stavanger! That's so cool! Don't be nervous! Hometown hero Kier! Yes! Tell me all about the opening when it's time. Yesterday .. oh, yes, Elias wrote back! He suggested that Zac and I meet with him at a bar near the venue between the soundcheck and the show, so that's what we'll do. I'm already nervous. I met with Gisele to go over the theater piece text. Thankfully, she likes it a lot, and I just have to make some some small changes to the detailing today. So, whew. What else. I did some phone conferencing with the guy who is putting together that 'novel' project that I mentioned I hope to get published soon, and that was fruitful. Oh, argh ... Very long story very short: the producers of Zac's and my film are pressuring us to show them some of the finished film, and we're not close to being ready to do that. They suddenly decided about six weeks ago that they 'need' a good chunk of the finished film by December 1st, which is just absolutely not going to happen. Yesterday they wrote asking us to send them one finished scene by last night. Impossible. That led to them kind of ordering us to have a Skype meeting -- they're in Berlin -- with them tonight, so we have to do that, and it is not going to be happy meeting, that's for sure, and quite the contrary, so, gulp, ugh. That happened. Otherwise, I just did some work on stuff. I guess tomorrow I can tell you how cooked Zac's and my gooses are, as colorful Americans of an earlier generation used to phrase it. And how did Friday handle your life? Tell me please. ** Gregoryedwin, Hi, man! Yeah, the blog's olden days, weird. Oh, you should so totally go to Iceland. And spend time there, get out of Reykjavik as much as you can, try to drive all the way around the country's perimeter if you at all can. That's the way to see it. Cool, I'll go get your email, and thank you! ** Magick mike, Hi, Mike. Oh, really, that's interesting about Klossowski's novels. Yeah, his prose is very odd. It took me a while to get a taste for it, but then I really got into how he handled prose, style, and stuff. It's strange, though, for sure, at the very least. Kind of lumpy or something. Lovely to see you, man! ** _Black_Acrylic, Of course Plastik sounds really nice. Do they distribute it outside the UK? ** Sypha, Hi. Oh, yeah, it's awful. My grandmother got like that towards the end too. She was in a care facility for the last year or so of her life. It was so fucking depressing. 'Hogg' is short, so it should be a fairly easy read, so to speak, ha ha, but the subject matter might be tough for you, based on things you've said in the past. 'Ada, or Ardor', wow, that would be interesting to read again. I can barely remember it. ** Misanthrope, Oh, man, so sorry to hear about your aunt. God, awful. Speaking of, sort of, I'm hoping your mom's health is okay these days. You haven't mentioned her health in a while, so I'm guessing she's all right? Well happy Thanksgiving to you too! I'm guessing you're going to watch football on TV. Am I wrong? ** Okay. Again, today's your chance to see what this blog was like ages ago when porn and its performers almost had the run of the place. See you with something new finally tomorrow.

Meet ILOVEYOU, jackmeoffpuhleeze, 2bros, VolcanicProlapse, and DC's other select international male slaves for the month of November 2014

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shitonmenow, 21
looking for guys who wants to shit on me
Who wants to shit on me?
You can expect me to be polite and non-judgmental





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SINGAPOREBASKETBALLBOY, 23
I try to do the best so that people won't judge me anymore when I'm saying I'm gay. It's so hard to hide in the closet for years. Am I freak? I just wanna be out and find my first true relationship-- you and anyone else than you who is always fucking me raw non-stop with only pause for eat, nap, or use the bathroom. I liked to play basketball.







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phobiateen, 19
What I want to happen to me...easy.. leash me and Kick the shit out of me with your fet and boots/shoes and pet me? Alot of people say im cute but I think im ugly as fuck.. Dont expect too much.

I literally met the most amazing person on here just a second ago. Thank you stranger for encouraging me to be myself! It's good to know that there are people like you in this world.





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Cumcumcumatme, 22
Hi, I'm pretty nervous about being on here. I haven't ever really been with anyone or admitted I'm bi. I was always straight (still 99% sure I am). But I know I run an eco fashion label and work my days on the railway and that I'm born in Sweden to be fucked by hot oldies, like a EXPERIMENTAL, ENLIGHTENING, SEX TORNADO.







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Zup, 20
It used to be called jonas, a boy with a humiliating 1" cock, but I has recently come to accept the fact that it is NOT HUMAN. It is a thing, worth a hundred thousend times less than each single drop of human piss. It is so fucking, unbelievably inferior to absolutely each and every living thing on this planet and needs to be thought so. It will pray to YOU, YOUR COCK,YOUR piss and your cum, your loaded gun, and accept every one of YOUR sperms and bullets as its GOD.

The world is full of GODs to it. It am less than a microbe to everyone else. I want it be snuffed by a brutal master torture the a slow death.

Can pay.






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turkishtwinpigs, 24
we not speek ingles :):):):):):):) speek TURKISH PLEASE LET US NOT INGLES :):):):):):):) TURKISH We DONT SPEEK INGLES END DEUSCHT, we do not :):):):):):):)

we am in VIENNA !!!!! with guy 11 and horny !!!! we wanted to bite sms wan you want to do real !!!!!!! WE LOVE nothing under age of 50 !!!!!!! FALSE PERSON !!!!!!!!!!







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BOYBOYBOY-CUTE, 21
This cute faggot is only useful as extreme abuse meat. This faggot's cute face is yours to beat bloody, bruised and swollen with broken nose, jaw, teeth, skull fractures .. This faggot's cute body is for you to torture, beat, whip, cane, burn with cigarettes, pierce, cut, bruise, welt, and make bleed. Toss it out with the garbage when you are done. Limit is scat (unless negotiated ahead of time). cute faggot is nothing. cute faggot is sub-human garbage. cute faggot's welfare is irrelevant so do whatever you desire without compassion. It wants to go "all in."

Guestbook of BOYBOYBOY-CUTE
Anonymous - 25.Sep.2014
today donnerstad 16 clock 3 I was with you it was a pleasure to destrust you yet beautiful day in hamburg







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fuckmyasshole90, 18
hi, i like you? plizz help me. for one week only i am renting myself out as a european fuck and torture slut. i need money pay food.and rent apartament)) small price 50Evro 50 evro = rape,torture,and suck ass (my tehnology -Best in Berlin :))) 80- +fist my ass + tell me what) write plizz ,and you help me teach me a lesson to save money and to obey me.. 'bout it, really.





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idontliketobetoyed, 22
I have given being a sub a good chance for anywhere from 1 to 3 hours (I know its not much) and that hasn't worked very well.

Reason being because although I know in my hear that I was born as a slave, I have lived too long as a free human being with free will with rights and all. So when in a sub situation it usually leads into me complaining, wanting to leave, asking for a break, etc... at which point the Dom does and I always ended up having my way.

As a slave and I think that may hold true for many slaves as well my mind is weak and it is always worried, scarred, uncertain, indecisive and that always prevents a slave from going as far as it should go. Therefore, I have realized that if I am going to be a good sub I need a Master who is a selfish, sadistic, sociopathic, amoral psychotic.

I also understand what being a slave entail and I am not under the impression that it will be a walk on the park.





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obliviousnightmare, 19
I tried everything else, sirs. I tried my family, 3 religions, friendship, school, having goals in life. I tried love, sugar daddies, escorting, top, bottom, gay (almost got married), straight (got a girls pregers), pansexual, trans, slut. I tried getting good grades, being an artist, musician, sports (soccer, baseball, tennis, volleyball, track), fashion bunny, emo, goth, sarcasm, straight laced. I tried drugs, alcoholic, cutting, a career track, therapy, meds, rehab, suicide (twice, almost made it the 2nd time). Recently I tried S&M, in which case... nom. Within that, I tried rape, gang rape, bondage, hoods, whips, sounding, electro, breathplay, hypno, spiked drinks, surprise sleeperholds, "chloroform" rags, kidnapping, hostage play, torture, imprisonment, solitary confinement, in which cases ... nom.







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Amir, 19
Am Amir by name, am a super Honest boy. Am looking to lose my virginity with an Honest gentle guy. I'm 19 so I think it's time. This place may be the worst place to look but oh well.







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killhisdick, 23
hi im a very brutal 9 inch master & my boy slave here, my.. hateful fucking little bitch hole..im looking for guys to join me in brutally,forcefully abusing him.i will pin him down.while you force your fist inside his arse. force 2 cocks in his arse same time.huge dildo,shotgun,EVERYTHING CAN GO IN THERE MAN!whatever we do to slave we do by brute force.slave has no say.if he resists then more force is applied.punches to slaves face are allowed to maintain order.when meeting slave will be naked on bed wearing a gimp mask.he cant see you and cant hear you as will have ear plugs in.making it so easy to abuse him on arrival.(anything goes). (don't thinks about him, just destroy him).







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derangedpiglet, 19
MY PERFECTION IS YOUR SATISFACTION
I was raised by a sadist uncle who raped me since I was 12
I guarantee u to have the greatest time of your life raping me
Rape me n let's have the greatest time of our lives

Type of BDSM practices.
Throttling throat penis vibrators and cry or vomit - YES
Supports multiple Masters / Domin at a time max hit 10 - YES
Hitting a dildo and a penis and anus after a kiss - YES
Bringing in-kind contributions in the rectum or mouth all sorts of items - YES






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madeineastberlin, 24
tachjesacht, i'm kai, i'm single no kids, i'm way beyond description, i kill you 2nite!!!





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Ascendents, 19
We are the slaves of a Spiritual Satanist/Luciferianist cult and their goal is to restore the Earth to it's once held glory, and ascend it and all of the worthy within it to perfection! They aspire to empower Humanity until they become one with Their Glorious Father and True Creator God Satan Lucifer Enki! They WILL ascend past humanity, take it's mask off and return to their rightful positions as Gods, aspiring towards absolute perfection in Body, Mind, and Spirit, where they will be remade in their Father's Image! As Father Satan destroys the false Judeo Christian God Jehova, the false Christian Religoun, all the Christians along with it and anihilates the enemy, The Jews, and smites down any weak, unworthy idiot who is opposes them and as Father The Morning Star rises to perfection, so too shall they! As National Socialists, and Satanists, THEY WILL become as Gods and achieve Asolute Perfection under their almighty and inefable God Lucifer! As for all you fucktards out there who is against them, join us in slavery to them, and in time, they will lead you to your proper places...6 FEET UNDER!!! OPEN YOUR EYES UP TO THE REAL TRUTH!!! HAIL SATAN!!!








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VolcanicProlapse, 21
This is probably the most you'll see of my writing so pay the fuck attention.

I'm Devin, Or Devil. I'm a short prick 5'2. I'm a little depressed. I can be a dick and a little psychotic so I have no life. And live in a lone apartment all to my self.

I like giving live chickens to homeless people to see how they deal with it, I arrange the flowers in old peoples' gardens so that they spell swear words, I am insane.

I am 90% passive. I am only 90% passive incase my master would like me to fuck his dog or cat or some little kid. I am obsessed with my penis.

All I see on here is a bunch of posing elderly idiots and I am not impressed. You look and act like 84 year olds going through some protracted pre-adolescent relapse or some shit.

I can do whatever you want me to do as long as it doesn't violate my human rights. NOTE: I have a small penis. The search continues.






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2bros, 19
we is two muthafuckas how tha fuck like it kinky n' would ludd ta serve as slaves fo' a funky-ass bangin' masta n' shit. straight-up passive, sick bodies w sloppin' holes to warm yo hands in n' almost no limits muthafucka! wanna have fun, biatch?





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Somechangesaremade, 24
I'm a 100% sub bottom sick twisted fuck looking to experience Hell on Earth - hanging, garrotting, bagging, drawing & quartering, bullets shot in me, set on fire, impalement with red hot pokers, and finally Islamic beheading. My ultimate goal in life is an extreme scene that YOU will always remember.

I am a bisexual guy so please don't ask me for kiss as i am not into kiss.

Doing this for need of experience for an important work. But first of all, I'm broke and I need a job. Someone knows something?






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jackmeoffpuhleeze, 21
hi duds...

Just Smile and the rest will follow...

Reinventing...Changing...Experimenting...

I don't know what to expect, so I am simply,

waiting...

I THINK I AM:
- Naughty
- Tormented
- Very good at making those ehh ahhhh sounds

Im at work so can't really make this more interesting.






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iamamanwhore, 23
for a whole weekend on the15/16 November i was rented out at a party and there was 14 guys i was collared and raped loads times i enjoyed me self.

i am some one that want it life upside down i would love to be kidnapped and disapear totaly never be relised just sold on it a dream of mine

dont treat me as a human bec i aint one

id love to be castrated i always loved the thought would love a guy to do it him self, as you prob can see got no care for me self






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SLAVE!SLAVE!SLAVE!SLAVE!, 18
Let me make this simple for you, I am a subhuman Arabic-Hispanic mongrel monkey of the male gender. My preference that you be a purebred white Supremacist into violent racist play is not negotiable. If you think that Obama is a great president, then do us all a favor and just off yourself. Don't make it look like a suicide so your family gets the insurance money. I guess that is non negotiable too. Reublicans, Right-wingers, Aggies, gun nuts, KKK, you have my stats and my picture.





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Clear, 22
I have a boyfriend and I like to have to be naked and wrapped in tight clear plastic. I'm looking for a man who'd like to wrap me up and sit and look at me. I know I have a boyfriend but he don't mind, he just don't have this fetish. Why? Beats me.





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treehugger, 24
decked out in fishnets, garter, miniskirt, glittery pink lipgloss, fuck me heels, and chastity device. told to do a sexy striptease without music while you say a prayer for my ass that you're about to destroy and send to hell torn apart and ugly. you unzip and flop out your flaccid cock and tell me that my ass has 10 minutes to get it hard enough to cum and if my ass fails it will receive a severe punishment starting now...GO. very humiliating told to bend over spread pussy lips(ass cheeks). you explain that this will be a very long evolution as you have just popped 2 viagras so you can be rock hard to explore my insides for hours. already 10 minutes have passed so my ass is cooked and you tell me to say my goodbyes to it in a very sexy, pornographic way or you will kill me. then while i do your fingers and later your hands and eventually your arms and feet are tearing my asshole open so you can see whats inside it and why my ass used to be so pretty. by then i'm unconscious sprawled on the floor from shock and pain so i can't stop you and nothing can stop you. too much?







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ILOVEYOU, 20
love is my life don't leave away from me





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skyler, 19
im skyler but i like being called sky or skyboo
i havent slept in 4 days
im horny mostly
im depressed suicidal no friends no life and just fucked up enough to be anyone's
don't wait or think about anything, just come and end the present life i hate so much









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p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, Well, thank you, sir. What a kooky little number. Hope you had a nice one. ** Keaton, Happy veggie burger day! Everyone, You think Thanksgiving is over, but it's not. Not until you read the holiday's definitive wrap-up scripted and encrypted by the maestro of forms of many forms, Keaton. THE GRAND GOBBLE is its name, and here is from whence it comes. Coolness! ** Damien Ark, Hi, Damien! You'd love it here in Paris where Thanksgiving isn't in the dictionary, the culture, the traditions, nada. They don't even have anything like it. Wow, Jesse Starr. I wonder whatever became of him. I've wondered. And Miles Pride, another vanishing act. If not a DC book idea, at least a post idea, but ... hm. Maybe. Happy post-Thanksgiving! ** Misanthrope, I hope your Cowboys won. With a name like Cowboys, you would think they would have. Dallas, right? And I have now exhausted my knowledge of American football. Although I do know that Katy Perry is performing at the Super Bowl. Does that count? I'm glad your mom's good. I remember there was a lot of worrying there for a while. Ongoing very, very best hopes and wishes to/for your aunt. The Skype thing wasn't the definitive horror and disaster I had feared. I guess I'll tell Kier what there is to tell. Your fly would have been twiddling its teeny-weeny thumbs. Yeah, well, the photos of those early 00's Russian porn stars are like leaves blowing in wind now, I presume, since their original website homes are all defunct, as far as I know. I think it's weird how the photos themselves look old. Like faded or something, but jpegs can't fade, right? Or do they fade when they're copied over and over? I don't even know. I should ask someone. Maybe you? Do you know? ** Paul Curran, Hi, Paul. my fellow Thanksgiving-removed buddy. You made Tokyo sound plenty heavenly just in those couple of sentences. Ah, I miss the place! That's extremely great news that your novel is going so well. Very, very awesome! The film meeting was ... hopefully doable. I'm just reentering my novel now, getting my head back into it, so there's not much to tell, but I have all kinds of ideas and plans that have been cooking for months that I plan to start writing/implementing this weekend. It would be hard to characterize them, I think, 'cos they're dependent on the context, which is really hard to describe at this point. But hopefully I'll be so back into it that I'll start posting scrapbook pages here again. ** Kier, Hey, hey, hey! I remember 'Bonnie and Clyde' being really quite good. I find Faye Dunaway kind of unbearable most of the time, but she was sharp in that, I think. Same goes for Warren Beatty, actually. And it has the weird, weirdly great Michael J. Pollard in it too. Wow, you have an awfully intense couple of days ahead. But everything in that intensity sounds so cool. I mean, the show, duh. And the Xmas market! I hear sleigh bells and smell pine trees just thinking about it. So, do they sell vegetables and stuff? Sheep and stuff? More Xmas-y stuff like wreaths and stuff? I know it'll be hard work, ugh, but it's so pretty to think about, forgive me. For sure, for completely sure, I wish you amazing luck today. Do try to enjoy the opening and feel celebrated if you can. Yesterday, ... well, to get it out of the way, the Skype film meeting wasn't as terrifying and full of yelling and screaming as I had feared, very thankfully. Basically, they were unhappy, but we said, 'Okay, we can get you two rough but indicative scenes by December 15th'. They really couldn't do anything but say yes since they kind of had no choice. So, Zac and I are going to have to a heavy marathon of editing work to be able meet that deadline. They want the whole film finished and polished by some time in January because, if we can't do that, we won't be in the Berlin Film Festival, and they're kind of intensely insistent on that, and we said, 'Uh ... that's kind of an extremely ambitious deadline', but we said we'd try. And we will. Basically, we bought some time for ourselves. But, shit, the next two and a half weeks is going to be intense. Other than that, and worrying about, which involved most of the day, I worked on my novel and a revision of the new theater piece and conferred further with the powers that be about the other, as-yet-mysterious novel, which is technically complicated to do, but I think we might have sorted out the way to do it, and hopefully it'll be able to come out pretty soon. What else. Zac made us dinner, and it was my favorite food in the world, cold sesame noodle, so I was very happy. I think everything else was pretty regular and would sound non-interesting outside the vacuum of my life. So, if you still have any energy and time tonight, how was your wild day, pal? ** Cobaltfram, Well, hi there John! I've been really good apart from recovering from broken ribs, but that's getting almost fixed. Iceland was unbelievable, amazing, great. Berlin! Cool! Nice German guy! Cool! You know me and my email problems, yes. Uh, well, I don't know what's going on in April yet 'cos it'll depend on what happens with our film and the theater project and stuff, but I'll certainly try to be here around then if I can because, obviously, it would be awesome to see you! I hope you're great too! ** Sypha, Hi. Huh, interesting that your friend found 'Hogg' hot and bothering. I can totally imagine it. It's just that, as you surely know, the sex in it mostly involves scat. And my memory tells me you're a bit averse to that sort of thing? ** Okay, wow, quiet day yesterday. Newness returns to the blog in the shape of the slaves. 'Nuff said. Have at them or not or whatever else, as always. See you tomorrow.

Sypha presents ... Living on the Edge: the not-so scandalous history of The Cat Band, the oddest musical act to spawn from Woonsocket, Rhode Island

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As some of you know, when I’m not writing, I often like to work on electronic music, which I often release on my netlabel Mauve Zone Recordings under the name Sypha Nadon. However, I am not the only person in my family who is both a writer and a “musician.” My three younger brothers are writers as well, and for many years, when they were younger, had been in a band, which they had called The Cat Band. But there was a brief time period where I was in the band as well. As they say, it’s complicated. This Day, then, is a history of the Cat Band.

As one can tell from the preceding paragraph, I am the oldest of four brothers. My three younger brothers are Tom (b. 1982), Bill (b. 1984), and Andrew (b. 1986): I myself was born in 1980, so each of us is spaced around 2 years apart or so. In the 1990’s and early 2000’s, my brothers both played and recorded music in a group that came to be known as The Cat Band. I was present to witness the creation of their songs and I really do think it some of the most unique music ever created. During the Cat Band’s existence, I was pretty much clueless about topics such as outsider art or naive rock, two genres I feel that The Cat Band falls into because it really does seem to exist by itself in a black hole. It is important to note that my brothers were fairly young when this music was recorded (Tom, the band’s founder, was 13 when he started the band), and thus it is (for the most part) refreshingly devoid of irony, a rare thing indeed in this postmodern age where any emotion one can express often needs to be reframed in quotation marks first. In my humble opinion, the end of The Cat Band came when the band members became, to some extent, self-aware of what they were doing: in layman’s terms, when they actually figured out how to play their instruments in a somewhat competent manner. As “out there” as this music is, it's important to remember one thing: at the time, my brothers actually thought that this music had commercial, mainstream appeal. It wasn't meant to be experimental. Hence the band's unintentional initiation into naive rock history.

For the sake of clarity, I’ve broken the band’s history down into specific eras, followed by a section of photographical material and also a large majority of the band’s lyrical output. Videos of The Cat Band do exist, but at the moment are all on VHS tapes that have yet to be transferred to a digital format. I hope one day to do an updated Cat Band Day with this video material as well. Until then, this will have to suffice.



My brothers and I on Christmas in 2001, towards the end of the Cat Band’s last era. From left to right: Bill, myself, Andrew, Tom.


The Cat Band Era One: 1995-1996

The Cat Band began in 1995, formed by my brother Tom, who was (as has been previously noted) about 13 at the time. Our father had gotten us a Toshiba boom box that could both play tapes and record sounds. Tom used it to record himself singing and playing harmonica (incidentally, I used the same boom box years later, to record my very first Sypha Nadon songs, before I got access to a program that let me compose and arrange music on my computer). This Toshiba boom box would quickly become one of The Cat Band’s most important tools, as they used it to record countless “studio” songs, “live” shows, and band rehearsals. However, back in 1995, the band was just Tom and his trusty harmonica. One of the very first songs Tom did was a very long freeform song entitled “Scoffman,” which was about the character Colonel Mustard from the popular board game Clue. Tom and I were both fans of a book series aimed at children that was out at that time period, this series being a number of young reader mystery novels revolving around the characters from Clue, and in these books the character of Colonel Mustard was always scoffing. Because Tom always played as Colonel Mustard when we played Clue, he evidently found this amusing (in fact, many of the books he wrote back then had characters scoffing all the time as well). “Scoffman” was just Tom singing lyrics made up on the spot, interspersed with brief harmonica solos (to put it politely). Sadly, the first six minutes of the song were erased when Tom recorded it over with a Mr. Bill sketch that appeared at the start of the 1993 film Ernest Rides Again. Perhaps this is for the best, as the “song” is nearly unlistenable. It also has the immortal lyric “I scowl at Mr. Green/tear out his tiny spleen.”

After that Tom and I did an eight minute and 26 second song called “Why is the Cat the Best Ever?” Which could canonically be considered the first true Cat Band song. This song was just Tom and I on vocals, with Tom also playing harmonica (while I emitted sounds in the background which resemble either a sick dog howling or a whale giving birth). We also used toy echo mikes in the song to “enhance” our vocals. The lyrics involve a cat who can play basketball, who is apparently the “best ever.” To put it bluntly, it sounds like two mental patients “singing” nonsense into a tape recorder (it doesn’t help matters that Tom sings it in an affected Richard Simmons-style accent that he often employed back then). In that same session, he and I recorded a very short song called “Dandruff,” which was inspired by a dandruff problem I had at that age, when I was 15.

(Years later, when an effort was made to create a canonical discography for The Cat Band, the songs “Scoffman,” “Dandruff” and “Why is the Cat the Best Ever?” were lumped together into a single EP entitled Why is the Cat the Best Ever?)

A year later, in 1996, Bill (age 12 at the time) joined the band for a single, called “The Cat is Ultimate.” This song, which once again revolves around a character named “The Cat” (Cat being Tom’s nickname), featured Tom on lead vocals and harmonica, me on background vocals, and Bill on background vocals as well. This song is notable not only for Bill’s first appearance as a member of The Cat Band, but also because it’s the first Cat Band song to feature guitar, specifically, an Al Hambra acoustic guitar, also played by Bill.

That same year our dad got us a $20 Casio CA-110 keyboard that quickly became the core of the band’s sound. On Easter Day 1996, Tom and I did a song using the Casio called “Blue Cat,” an epic song that was nearly 20 minutes long (and years later would be retooled into a much more poppier version). On this song I “played” keyboard (really, all I kept doing was turning on the keyboard’s presets) while Tom sang lyrics (as usual back then, totally improvised), about a titular “Blue Cat” who dies in a car accident, then miraculously returns to life and rises to the heavens. This song is of historical interest because it was the first Cat Band song to feature keyboards (and also the “Blue Cat” character), and also marks my last appearance as a member of the band. It was also the final song of the first “era” of The Cat Band, which roughly ran from 1995-1996.

(NOTE: In 2004 I realized that much of the Cat Band’s output remained on tapes scattered all over the place in Tom’s bedroom, sometimes on tapes that were nearly ten years old, and I began to worry about something happening to the tapes and the music getting lost forever. So I decided to record as much of it as I could find into my computer. I simply placed a tiny microphone next to a boom box and played the tapes straight into my computer, and though the sound quality isn’t always the greatest I feel like the original lo-fi origins of the original recordings have been preserved: in fact, I take a perverse pride in the knowledge that these digital “remasters” actually sound worse in many cases than the analog originals. Interestingly enough, towards the end of the original “Blue Cat,” you can hear one of our own pet cats purring as he rubs against the recording microphone. In 2007, I began to release The Cat Band material on my Mauve Zone Recordings netlabel in special anthologies, with custom cover art drawn by myself, the first volume of which incorporated the Why is the Cat the Best Ever? EP, the Cat is Ultimate single, plus the ultra-rare original mix of Blue Cat. All these songs can be downloaded for free at this link, or you can just listen to them on the embedded playlist below).






The Cat Band Era 2: Cat Forever (September 1997-January 1998)

In 1996 I left the band as a player to focus on becoming the band’s manager, (pretty much an honorary title, however). Over the years I’ve also became the band’s official archivist and cameraman (I recorded a number of their rehearsals on video back in the day, often adding cheesy special effects). By this point The Cat Band was pretty much just Tom and Bill, with Tom writing the lyrics and providing lead vocals and harmonica (and sometimes repetitive keyboard riffs somewhat reminiscent of Martin Rev’s playing style from Suicide, though of course, back then none of us had ever heard of Suicide), while Bill played most of the main keyboard and acoustic guitar parts. They also began creating a fake band mythology in which it was claimed that the band was in fact a bunch of cats that could play instruments. For example, Larry Cat did vocals (usually in the campy, Richard Simmons-like voice), Mongo Cat played the drums, Tabby Cat played piano and keyboards, Purr Cat played bass, and so on. During this era The Cat Band sometimes went by the name “The Larry Cat Band” or “The Cat Band and the Kittenettes.” Mongo in particular received a lot of attention; according to the band’s mythos he was a giant cat with the world’s largest drum set, a set so large that he could only play the drums located behind him by firing off shit out of his ass that in turn would hit the drums (this was known as “firing logs” for reasons I don’t presume to understand, perhaps to avoid swearing in front of our parents). Of course, the entire band’s “percussion” actually came courtesy of keyboard drums, or whacking big tins of popcorn (or dropping coins on the ground near the Toshiba). Sometimes in this era Bill would refer to himself as Rod Roddy and Tom would call himself Bob Barker, evidently a pop culture reference to the Price is Right game show.

Still using the cheap-o $20 Casio and the Toshiba, the Cat Band recorded their first album, Cat Forever, in 1997, following a long hiatus from April 1996 to September 1997. Taking on the duties of songwriter, for the first time Tom began to write out lyrics for his songs, which he and Bill would then record, usually in one of their bedrooms. Eight songs were recorded in this era, details of which follow:

“Apply Your Skills” was perhaps the first true “organized” Cat Band song, in that Tom wrote the lyrics out before they recorded it, though the lyrics are still as nonsensical (in a good way) as ever. And, like many of the songs from this era, the music was totally improvised on the day of recording. It features Tom on lead vocals and harmonica and Bill playing guitar, plus some keyboard stuff (such as a techno dance beat preset and some evocative organ-like chords). Like many of the old Cat Band songs, it’s long, going on for over 9 minutes.

“Duty Free Shop” was written and recorded around the same time as “Apply Your Skills.” The song is inspired by Kramer’s “I like to shop at the duty free shop” song from the Seinfeld episode “The Airport.” As usual, Tom does lead vocals and harmonica while Bill does keyboard stuff and background vocals; also as usual, they use a keyboard preset for the background beat. Both Tom and Bill had a bizarre amount of fondness for this song, and would later on go to record a new version of it in the band’s third era. It’s certainly one of the more melodic early Cat Band efforts, even if the melody is ripped-off. This song also features a cameo from Portly Penguin, Bill’s stuffed animal friend (also known as “Sir Bird”) who would often speak/sing in a very high-pitched voice (he can also be heard gibbering at the end of “Apply Your Skills”).

“Stardom and Fame” is kind of a unique track in the early Cat Band days in that it featured Bill on lead vocals, singing lyrics that he himself had written, with Tom providing back-up vocals and his usual harmonica pyrotechnics, plus doing the lead keyboard riff. Bill’s lyrics, as you might observe, are a bit more conventional and melodic than Tom’s.

In that same September of 1997 the band next recorded one of their more classic songs, “Living on the Edge,” which at over 18 minutes long was one of their most epic tracks to date (for the record, these long track running times were no doubt inspired by the prog rock albums we were listening to back then, primarily Emerson, Lake & Palmer’s Brain Salad Surgery). Set atop the usual keyboard backing beat, Tom does lead vocals and some keyboard while Bill does some keyboard as well and plays some acoustic guitar, plus some back-up vocals. This is one of the songs where “tapping/dropping a coin(s)” against the ground served as additional percussion. I especially like the end of the song, when Tom chants “Watch those fires blaze” over an apocalyptic keyboard soundscape.

In early October, the band recorded “Hot Shots.” Another epic track at over 17 minutes long, in thematic content it was inspired by the Emerson, Lake & Palmer song “Karn Evil 9” (off their Brain Salad Surgery album), along with the Rush song “2112.” Once again, Tom’s on lead vocals and harmonica and Bill on keyboard, though in some of these old songs Tom would play a bit of keyboard as well, as is the case here. This song is of great historical importance as it marked Andrew’s first appearance with the band, playing a toy drum and also using a squeak toy as a sound effect, though he wouldn’t become an official band member until 1999, in the fourth era. For some unknown reason, at one point Bill plays the main melody from J. Geils’ “Centerfold.” Once again, the dropping of coins on the ground is used as an additional percussive element, and at the end a toy xylophone is employed to good effect.

That same October, The Cat Band did yet another new song, “When We Live,” which I think is one of their stronger efforts from this era. Evidently Tom thought so as well, as he had at least 4 different versions of this song recorded. One of those early Cat Band songs where Tom played the droning lead keyboard riff, other components of this track include a techno beat courtesy of a keyboard preset, Bill’s acoustic guitar, and some clattering percussion (what sounds to my ears like toy cymbals crashing together). One of the first versions of this song is popularly known as the “Indian Mix” on account that, when our mother heard Tom singing it, she asked him if he was trying to sound like a Native American (as he sung this one in a slightly deeper voice than he usually sang). Other mixes include the “Short Mix” (which at over 9 minutes and being touted as the shortest possible version of the song is still longer than the “Indian Mix”), the “Abrasive Mix” (which speaks for itself, and which sees Bill playing a toy piano at one point), and, finally, the gargantuan “Long Mix,” which at slightly under 20 minutes makes it the longest Cat Band song, if one doesn’t count the original mix of “Blue Cat.” The “Long Mix” is also one of the only Cat Band songs that has Bill playing harmonica instead of Tom.

During this same period they also did a somewhat funky song called “Son of a Gemini.” Yet another long track (only a few seconds shorter than “Hot Shots”), it’s one of the rarer Cat Band songs as the band only ever played and recorded it once. Tom does lead vocals and harmonica, Bill’s on keyboards and plays some acoustic guitar as well, along with providing some whistling. It’s kind of all over the place and scattershot though, even more so than some of their other songs from this era.

Finally, one can’t forget their classic track “Super Mario,” which dates back to this era. Essentially Bill playing a version of the Super Mario theme song over a rockin’ techno keyboard beat, with Tom singing lyrics related to the Mario games (games we were all very fond of: in that era, we were all playing a lot of Super Mario 64 on the Nintendo 64 system). The band recorded many versions of this song, and it remains one of their most well-known and signature tracks. In particular, it displays Bill’s growing skill at playing the keyboard (unlike Tom, he knew how to read sheet music, and the fact that he was in the band at school gave him additional music training). In some versions (including the version of the song that came with Volume Two), Bill would also play the Zelda theme song.

Another song from this era was “Fear in the Bedroom,” which was actually one of Tom’s earliest songs, pre-dating even “Apply Your Skills,” though the actual lyrics weren’t actually set to paper until a few months after that one: sadly, the band never recorded a version of it, perhaps because, at a dense 4 pages of lyrics, it was one of Tom’s longest songs.

Most of the material of the band’s second era was released on Mauve Zone Recordings as Cat Band Anthology Volume 2: Cat Forever. It can be downloaded for free here, or you can just listen to the above songs on the playlist embedded below).










(the above artwork is an alternate cover for the 2nd anthology, drawn by Bill with magic marker. For these Cat Band anthologies, I wanted each of my brothers to draw their own cover for all the albums, but very few of them actually did).


The Cat Band Era 3: The Cat Band’s Greatest Hits (1998- March 1999)

The Cat Band’s third era began in 1998, when my brother Bill got a new keyboard, a Casio CTK-601 keyboard, this one much more advanced than the band’s first one. It allowed one to record backing tracks on it, which added a new layer of sophistication and polish to the band’s music. This was perhaps the Cat Band’s most electronic era, as they ditched the acoustic guitar and DIY percussion of Era Two, stripping their sound down to just the keyboard (and, of course, Tom’s ever-present harmonica). Tom and Bill began recording lots of new material, and in February 1999 17 of these songs were culled together to form the band’s first truly cohesive album, The Cat Band’s Greatest Hits Volume 1, which to me is the band’s most interesting sonic artifact. Though marketed as a “greatest hits” album, almost all of the tracks were new material, with only 3 tracks being older songs (and even these tracks were newly recorded versions of “Why is the Cat the Best Ever,” “Duty Free Shop,” and “Super Mario,” though at one point the band was considering putting “When We Live” on the tracklisting as well; it was cut due to lack of space). Recorded onto a 90 minute cassette tape, Tom would go on to record a further 10 copies, which he gave away to some of his high school friends, thus winning the band a wider audience: what has become of those tapes all these years later is open to conjecture, but they’re certainly what you could call collector’s items.

The album opens up with one of the band’s first instrumentals, the torturous “Harmonica Overture,” nearly 3 minutes of Tom doing an interminable, extended harmonica solo (this is also one of the few Cat Band songs that doesn’t feature Bill in any capacity). After that rough start, things pick up with track 2, the nearly ten minute long “Why is the Cat the Best Ever ’98,” which, as its name suggests, is a new recording of the 1995 song “Why is the Cat the Best Ever?” While the original, as previously noted, sounded like the work of two mental patients, the 1998 remake was certainly a much slicker affair. Like some songs of this era, the band tried to make it sound as if they were playing before a live audience: to achieve this effect, they would make great use of the “Applause” sound effect on the keyboard, though due to the poor recording quality it ends up sounding more like waves at a seashore. Composed of a pre-programmed, almost tribal drum beat (inspired by the end credits song for Super Mario 64 and the opening drum beat to the Rolling Stones song “Sympathy for the Devil”), Tom’s harmonica, and tasteful piano and keyboard work, it’s certainly one of the band’s most organized songs up to this point, even though the lyrics are still the same as they were in ’95 (and it’s funny that such an epic sound production is given to a song that’s essentially about a cat who can play basketball and boast about his skills). The extended synth solo about halfway through the song is a nice touch, as is the background choir-like effect.

“Liftoff,” the album’s third track, is a short instrumental composed and performed entirely by Bill, one of several such songs he recorded for the album. It’s kind of a rocking, drum-heavy track (well, keyboard drums that is: all of the drumming for the songs of this era were electronic). Once again, a keyboard choir is used as well.

Track 4, “Rocketman,” is, after “Super Mario,” the band’s second best-known song, even if it’s just a cover of the Elton John classic. You know how years ago, Johnny Cash covered the song “Hurt,” and many people said it was better than the Nine Inch Nails’ original? Well, that’s bullshit, the NIN version is still the best. Having said that, I can say in all honesty that I prefer The Cat Band’s version of “Rocketman” to Elton John’s. It’s one of the band’s first (and only) cover songs (they also did a cover of “Psycho-Killer” by the Talking Heads that is sadly long lost), and I think it’s one of the highlights of the album, with Tom giving one of his better vocal performances (I especially like the high note he hits at the end), and Bill doing back-up vocals.

Track 5, “Summer in Paris,” finds both Tom and Bill playing the keyboard, with Bill playing the main keyboard melody and Tom playing the keyboard’s bird sound effects. It’s an okay song, though a little unfocused, with the drumming being all over the place. It’s followed by a new, re-recorded version of “Super Mario.” Not quite as sparse as the 1997 version, it opens with a sample taken from the title screen of the Super Mario 64 video game. It’s an okay version, though again, the drumming doesn’t quite synch up with the rest of the song.

Track 7, “Kick ‘em in the Shins,” is a song I’m convinced the band recorded to annoy me: back then I was known to kick people in the shins when they annoyed me. It’s a charmingly moronic song, and was technically written in the Second Era. It’s followed by the short and bombastic “Harky Tark,” the band’s version of the classic hymn “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” just with Tom re-writing some of the lyrics to make it more Cat Band.

Track 9, “Duty Free Shop Bonus,” is a new instrumental version of the 1997 song “Duty Free Shop,” recorded in 1998, with Bill as usual doing most of the arranging. Side One ends with another solo Bill instrumental, the very short “Compo” (at under 50 seconds, it is, along with “Dandruff,” one of the shortest Cat Band songs).

Side Two opens up with “Ghouls and Goblins,” inspired by the video game of the same name. A long and quite lovely instrumental track that I think sounds quite stately at times, albeit in a crude lo-fi way. The Mongo drum solo in the middle is very effective. It’s followed by the third Bill instrumental solo, “Kalindrone,” which is one of my favorite tracks off the album: a very experimental and at times almost avant-garde sounding song.

Track 3 off Side Two is the somewhat dirge-like and repetitive “When We Were Kings.” After that is the 4th Bill solo instrumental, “Pathetique,” one of the more rockin’ tracks on the album, with another impressive though unhinged drum performance from “Mongo Cat.” This is followed by yet another new version of “Duty Free Shop,” this one with vocals and introduced by Andrew, making another rare appearance in this era of The Cat Band. As usual, the band tried to make it seem as if they were playing live (this time in “Detroit City,” apparently). At the 5:00 mark one can hear a sound effect created on the keyboard by Bill that came to be known as “The Walrus.”

The final tracks on Side Two are “Snow on the Lawn” and “New to You, New to Me.” The former is an impressively spacey and psychedelic instrumental track, while the latter is a longer, more pop-orientated song that has Tom again doing lead vocals and Bill doing backing vocals. And as this cassette tape ends, so too does the Third Era of The Cat Band.

For the third volume of Mauve Zone Recordings’ Cat Band anthology series, I made the logical choice to release the contents of The Cat Band’s Greatest Hits Vol. 1 tape in their entirety, along with three bonus tracks (more on those later). It can be downloaded for free at this link, or you can just listen to the songs on the embedded playlist below.










The Cat Band Era 4-5: Off-White (April 1999-2000/Summer 2000-2002)

Shortly after the release of The Cat Band’s Greatest Hits Volume 1 tape saw a huge development in The Cat Band, when my youngest brother Andrew joined the band’s line-up full-time as a drummer, at the age of 13. Around this point, the band began phasing out the names of the fictional cat members (such as Larry Cat and Mongo Cat) and began playing under their own names. They refashioned themselves as the world’s first harmonica-keyboard-drum trio, with Tom still on lead vocals and harmonica (around with writing all the lyrics), Bill on keyboard, and Andrew on drums. In the spring of 1999, they began writing, rehearsing and recording new material, in the hope of releasing a new album entitled Off-White. By this point, the band had gone from recording songs in Tom and Bill’s bedroom and had relocated to the basement of our parent’s house, where a small DIY studio was set up (though the trusty Toshiba boom box was still employed for recording purposes: it would eventually be replaced by a four track machine, though).

The first of the songs created by this line-up is the classic “Blue Cat,” which quickly became one of their standards. Bearing no relationship at all (aside from the name) to the song Tom and I recorded in Easter of 1996, it was one of the band’s most accessible songs to that point, with Tom doing lead vocals and harmonica, Bill playing keyboard, and Andrew doing the drumming. Shortly after this the band did another new song, the poppy “Magic.” A few months later, in June, the band recorded the jazzy “Watch Your Back Jack,” easily their most conventional and accessible song yet in terms of structure and style.

That same year, the band began to play and record a series of supposed “live shows,” pretending they were touring the country as the opening act for Hootie & the Blowfish (of all bands). In reality, these “live shows” were all recorded in our basement, with the “Audience” sound effect on the keyboard again being used to simulate the sound of a real audience. All of these shows were recorded on tape, and sometimes at the end of each “gig” the band would play a few seconds of a Hootie song before fading the sound away, to complete the illusion. Originally, this tour was supposed to be very extensive, with gigs all across the USA, but in the end, only 9 or so of these gigs were actually recorded: Seattle, Vancouver, Boise, Salt Lake City, Los Angeles, Portland, Chicago, Phoenix, and Dallas. The gigs tended to last anywhere between 20-30 minutes (though the Chicago show lasted almost 40 minutes), with the band typically playing 5 songs. They would start their set with “Blue Cat,” then “Watch Your Back Jack,” then a new song entitled “Soviet Union.” Sets would usually end with another new song, “By The Way.” Other songs that would sometimes be played “live” included a short track named “Chewy,” another one called “In a Box,” plus “Bad Luck Song,” “The Drug Dealer Song,” and “Medley.” Sadly, the tape that contained the live shows that had “Chewy,” “The Drug Dealer Song” and “Medley” on them is warped beyond all recognition, and as a result I was never able to record those to computer.

On Halloween in 1999, they played their first official live show, at a friend’s costume party, where they performed four songs: “Blue Cat,” “Watch Your Back Jack,” and “Rocketman,” ending off with “Super Mario” as an encore. Tom was dressed from head to toe in silver tin foil, while Bill wore a hat with a giant Styrofoam ear taped atop it and Andrew dressed as a pirate. The show was a hit with the audience. Sadly, no recordings, either audio or visual, exist of this live show. My mom did take a photograph of the band prior to the show, but sadly it appears to have gone missing, otherwise I would have used it here.

The band’s Fifth Era began sometime in the summer of 2000, shortly after they recorded another new song, the pop-orientated “Yours to Keep.” It was decided that the band should incorporate bass and guitar into the sound. So Bill purchased his first electric guitar and Tom got a bass guitar. At this point the harmonica and the keyboard began to become less prominent in the band’s sound as well. The band’s first true friction began to come into play at this point: in late September of 2000, Bill temporarily considered quitting the band, threatening to take all his songs with him (a problematic notion, as to that point Tom had still written almost all the lyrics, and the music on many of the older songs was completely improvised anyway). In response, Tom wrote a song called “Passionless” attacking Bill’s own attempts at songwriting, though this song was never recorded. Eventually they all reconciled.

In November of 2000, the band did one of their most iconic songs, the muscular “Harlem.” When I first heard that the band would be incorporating guitar and bass into their sound, I was very skeptical, but changed my mind when I first heard them play “Harlem.” I thought it was the most exciting song they had done in awhile, and liked its raw punk energy: it even had turntable scratches and an honest to god guitar solo. Other punk-rock songs they did in this era included “Racist Cop” and “Last Rock ‘n Roll Star.” On the other hand, they also did “Evil Man is Coming,” a rock song done in the style of something from Jesus Christ Superstar that I wasn’t crazy about at all.

2001 was a bumpy year for The Cat Band, however. The planned album was failing to materialize, and by this point creative differences were tearing the band apart. Bill had begun writing songs of his own and he and Tom had different ideas about what direction the band should go in: Bill wanted a more polished and mainstream pop-rock sound (similar to a band like No Doubt, the music of which all three of my brothers enjoyed), whereas Tom (who was becoming more influenced by punk rock groups like Rancid and also hip-hop acts such as Eminem) wanted to retain the band’s quirky sound: Andrew, being less attached to the band’s original material, privately wanted the band to adopt a more conventional sound as well, but not wanting to rock the boat, kept his feelings to himself. The band did two official live shows during this year, first at a Battle of the Bands gig at Woonsocket High School (our old alma mater) in April (where they performed “Evil Man is Coming,” “Watch Your Back Jack,” and “Harlem,” disappointing some of the old school fans who were hoping for “Rocketman” and “Super Mario”). This performance was recorded on audio and was included as a bonus at the end of the 3rd Cat Band anthology. Then there was a show at another friend’s Halloween party later on that year, in what many could call a fairly disastrous gig (how disastrous? They covered both a Fastball and a Weird Al song). Both of these live shows were videotaped (in fact, I myself recorded the second Halloween one). These unsuccessful live shows served to only further the band’s strife: at the end of the Halloween one Bill was starting to think that a female lead singer and a string quartet was what were needed to get the band back on course.

Following the second Halloween gig, the band’s output rapidly dwindled. One of the only new songs they did in 2001 was “Crestfallen,” a ponderous soft-rock style track that I strongly disliked: it was also one of the first Cat band songs to feature Bill sharing lead vocals with Tom. They also did an extremely poppy song that was almost entirely recorded on keyboards entitled “Right Here Right Now,” that sounds kind of like a spoof of the Backstreet Boys songs then so popular at that time.

In 2002 The Cat Band all but ceased to exist. They decided to do a final “live show” once again in our basement, pretending to open for No Doubt, and they played many of the classics such as “Magic” and “Blue Cat” along with a few surprises, such as “Goods in the Hood” (the only song they ever did that was recorded on computer rather than tape), and a new punk rock version of “Living on the Edge” that bore little resemblance to its 18 minute predecessor. And that was the end of the Fifth Era.

(“Goods in the Hood,” which was recorded on my computer around the years 2000 or 2001, also was the only post-First Era Cat Band song that featured an appearance by myself, in this case playing percussion with a pencil. It was included as a track on the 2008 Mauve Zone Recordings compilation album A Dream as White as the Death of a Seagull, which can be downloaded here).

The fourth Cat Band anthology was meant to contain only songs from the 4th Era, but in the end I decided to incorporate 5th Era material as well. On this anthology one can find the original studio versions of “Blue Cat,” “Magic,” “Watch Your Back Jack,” “Yours to Keep,” “Harlem,” “Crestfallen,” “Last Rock & Roll Star,” and “Racist Cops,” along with some of their “live” Hootie tour songs such as “By The Way,” “Soviet Union,” “In a Box,” and “Bad Luck Song.” As a bonus, I also tossed in the ultra-rare cover they did of The Kinks’ “You Really Got Me,” a Third Era song that also features Andrew and our dad on backing vocals. It can be downloaded for free at this link, or you can just listen to the songs on the embedded playlist below.








(for the cover art for the 4th anthology, I used an old illustration that Tom had drawn back in the day as possible album cover art for the Off-White album, with some text added to it on computer by myself).


The 5th Cat Band anthology was to have been their final live show, but I’ve yet to record and release that one. One day… though part of the reason why I haven’t done so yet is simply because it’s not one of the band’s better performances.


POSTSCRIPT

Following their final live show in 2002, Tom, Bill and Andrew decided to start a new band and begin work on a new album, and began searching for a new band name: some band names they considered at various points included Les Freres Heureux (which is French for “The Happy Brothers”: this was the name of Frasier and Niles Crane’s restaurant on the TV show Frasier) and Mermelman (the last name of Steven Wright’s reoccurring character on the TV sitcom Mad About You). But they never could come up with a new band name that stuck, and once again, the album (which at one point was to have been named Sockronaissance) failed to come together.

As it was, as the years went by they began to phase out the older songs from the new tracklisting, until at one point the only two songs left from the old days was “Harlem” and “Crestfallen” (and even “Harlem” was eventually cut). In their place came new, more conventional songs, with extremely bland titles such as “Moving On,” “The Way I Look at You,” “I Will Wait,” “Don’t You Cry,” and “See the Beauty Agonize.” The plan was for Bill and Tom to split lyric writing duties, but as the years progressed Tom just stopped writing lyrics entirely and began to lose interest in learning Bill’s songs as well. They began to rehearse less and less, and in the last few years have only rehearsed a handful of times.

Watching the band’s slow dissolution was kind of a bummer (writing about it has been kind of depressing as well). I think a band often needs a person in charge, and for many years that was Tom, but as he lost control of the group it seems the band just lost their heart. And brothers and bands can sometimes be a volatile mix: just look at Oasis, for example. When you have three different people with three very different ideas as to what direction the band should go in, there’s bound to be dissent. Not helping matters is the fact that both Bill and Andrew are skilled musicians (they both graduated from Providence College with degrees in music), whereas Tom has never had any musical training at all. I just feel that the band’s earlier efforts have a kind of innocence and purity that the later songs (such as the mock-rock bombast of a song like “Evil Man is Coming” or “Crestfallen,” which sound as if they were written with an ironic smirk) lack, and to see them go from singing about cats that can play basketball and loving odes to the Super Mario franchise to just another band that cranks out boring love songs was kind of a bitter pill to swallow. But they were all younger when they recorded those old songs, and probably it would be impossible to capture that kind of magic again: a few years ago Bill tried to do a song in the old Cat Band style, but found that he simply no longer could. For better or worse, The Cat Band grew up.

As to what the band members are up to today:


James Champagne

In the year 1999, I became obsessed with industrial music and bands like Throbbing Gristle and Nine Inch Nails, which inspired me to create my own one-man electronic act, which came to be known as Sypha Nadon. Since the year 2000, I’ve recorded hundreds of songs, many of which appear on my Mauve Zone Recordings netlabel (more recently, I released the album Canadian Atheist). I was never involved musically with The Cat Band again, though in the summer of 2001 I did start a side project with Tom and Andrew, a trashy lo-fi punk band we called The Mute Ants: Tom played bass and sang, Andrew played drums, and I played guitar and some keyboard. We rehearsed a bunch of times and made plans for a whole bunch of albums, none of which were ever actually recorded. We did, however, play a live show in April of 2004 at my old high school, which was my first (and, to date, last) time playing music before a live audience: I had a blast! However, when all is said and done, my Sypha Nadon project is just a fun diversion: I consider myself a writer first and foremost.


Tom Champagne

As early as the year 2000, Tom had begun to make plans for doing a solo album on his own, but though he wrote many lyrics and even recorded a few songs (such as “Mr. Metal in the Morning,” “Raucous” and “She Lives in a Fantasy”), he never quite did record that solo album. He was involved with many side projects, though: aside from The Mute Ants, he also formed two bands with Andrew: Liquid Squid and Tinphony. The former was a kind of shock rock/metal type band that did songs with titles like “Bob the Blowjob Blob” and “Whack Off,” though they were always more of a joke band than anything else (and they only ever actually recorded one song, the somewhat anemic “Lions & Tigers”). Tinphony requires a longer explanation.

In the late 1990’s, my brothers and I were big fans of the classic Nintendo 64 game Goldeneye (which, as you can assume, was based on the James Bond film of the same name). We especially enjoyed playing the 4-player battle round/death match, and because there were 4 of us, we always had enough people for a proper match. In these battle rounds, you could choose different characters from the James Bond films to play as your avatar. Our brother Bill would often play as Valentin Zukovsky, the ex-KGB agent portrayed by Robbie Coltrane in the film. Because the Valentin character is slightly shorter than some of the other characters you can choose in the battle rounds, my brothers and I would often have trouble hitting Valentin with bullets during the matches, which so annoyed Tom and Andrew that they eventually formed a band designed for the sole purpose of insulting Valentin (or “Tin,” as they liked to shorten his name to). For the band name, they took the word “Symphony” and changed it to “Tinphony.” For this “band,” Tom did lead vocals and acoustic guitar/harmonica while Andrew played drums and also did lead vocals. They recorded two albums, Bad Rear Day (a play on Weird Al’s Bad Hair Day album) and More Songs About Shitting, Feces, Puke, Urine, Etcetera (or some variation thereof: they never really created an officially canon name for the second album). For those two cassettes, they would take then popular songs from the radio and change the lyrics to scatological ones that insulted Valentin. For example, the Third Eye Blind song “Graduate” became “Smellerate,” Everclear’s “Father of Mine” became “Farter of Time,” and the Village People’s “YMCA” was transformed into “Why is Tin Gay?” (no one ever said it was the most sophisticated of bands).

This, then explains that cryptic passage in my first novel, Confusion:

    “Meanwhile, Sypha and Keith were talking with Bob Baker, who was dressed in an elegant black and white tuxedo with a black bow tie. He was with his fiancé, a Hawaiian woman named Tina. She was a short woman with long blonde hair and dark brown eyes. She was wearing a Cat Band t-shirt with the words “Blue Cat” on it in huge blue letters, next to a picture of a large blue cat. Bob had just introduced her to Sypha and Keith.
    “The Cat Band? They’re hot right now,” Sypha remarked, sipping his punch.
    “Yeah, I loved their new single ‘Magic,’ it had a really catchy chorus,” Tina nodded.
    “I thought the drumming sounded like a typewriter on that one,” Bob said, scratching his bald head.
    “I heard some members of that band are working on a side project called Tinphony,” Sypha commented, finishing his punch and tossing his cup into a nearby recycling bin.
    “What is… Tinphony?” Keith wondered.
    “It’s about a Russian man named Tin,” Sypha explained.
    “How outré,” Bob said.

-

Although Tom has lost interest in writing lyrics and recording music over the years, he still keeps involved with his books. Since 1995, he has handwritten over 25 novels, and some of these novels are quite long (one of them is over a thousand pages). He has also begun typing two books: one of them is a shorter novel for teens that he hopes to get published for real, while the other is a book that will be over 1,600 pages long, and that he’s writing simply to claim that he has the longest book in the house (as his original handwritten 1,000 page book has since been surpassed by one of Andrew’s typed novels and my own Trinity fantasy novel). Tom’s novels are so bizarre they really deserve a day of their own: maybe I’ll do that some other time. Amazingly, he still writes books by hand as well: he’s currently working on the 9th book in his long-running Magical Fantasy series, which he began all the way back in 1995.


Bill Champagne

Bill still writes, plays and records his own music, and hopes to one day do the score for a video/ computer game, to say nothing of composing a score for a film, as John Williams is one of his idols. More recently, he has completed a novel of his own, to the surprise of all of us: Oddly Connected Dissonance, which he has described as a cross between The Perks of Being a Wallflower and Silver Linings Playbook (two of his favorite books/films). He hopes to get it published one day, and is currently planning a sequel.


Andrew Champagne

Of the four of us, Andrew has been in the most bands: The Cat Band, The Mute Ants, Tinphony, Liquid Squid, plus at one point he played drums in a band with some of his friends, this band being named Down Burden Chef. Down Burden Chef has to date only done one (unreleased) album, Victory Garden, on which Andrew appears in two songs. In addition to that, he also writes music under his own band name, Atlantis in Autumn. However, these days he focuses more on writing novels, like Tom and I. Since 2008 he has typed out 5 novels: In November We’ll Burn (2008: over 500 pages), Brigit (2010), Sam’s Port (2011), The Verifiers (2012), and The Seven Hearts of Abby Leigh. He is currently at work on a sixth novel, and is re-editing Brigit in the hopes of getting it published.


* * * *


Will The Cat Band ever reform and ride again some day, and finally record an album for real? Only time will tell…


Photographs

Instruments


The Casio CA-110. The Cat Band’s first official keyboard. Used primarily during the years 1996-1997)



The Al Hambra acoustic guitar that the band used for various songs on their Second Era. All of the strings are missing on it now.



Toy echo mike used by Tom and I during various songs in the Cat Band’s First Era.



The Casio CTK-601. The band’s second keyboard, mainly used for the recording of The Cat Band’s Greatest Hits Volume 1 tape, along with being used on the Hootie tour.



Tom’s bass guitar, purchased during the band’s Fifth Era.



Tom’s second bass guitar.



Andrew’s drum set.



Bill’s first guitar, purchased during the band’s fifth era.


NOT PICTURED: Tom’s harmonica, the Toshiba boom box (both of which have gone missing)




Two photographs taken by our mother of The Cat Band playing live at Woonsocket High School in April of 2001. From left to right: Bill on guitar, Andrew on drums (somewhat obscured), Tom on bass.



The closest thing The Cat Band ever had for an official logo. Designed by Tom on May 28, 2000. A larger version of this logo was drawn on cardboard, then inserted on the front of Andrew’s bass drum.



Tom’s original handwritten lyrics for “Apply Your Skills.”



Tom’s original handwritten lyrics for “Why is the Cat the Best Ever.”



Tom’s original handwritten lyrics to “Living on the Edge.”



Tom’s handwritten tracklisting for his own personal copy of The Cat Band’s Greatest Hits Volume 1.



Tom’s personal copies of the Cat Forever and The Cat Band’s Greatest Hits Volume 1 tapes.



Illustration of cat drawn by Tom.



Selected Lyrics

Here then are a collection of lyrics from many of the Cat Band’s songs, both official and unofficial songs, arranged by the date on which they were written. A few songs are unrepresented, either because the lyric sheet in question was long lost, or because they were never written down in the first place. I’ve tried to capture the spirit of the original lyrics by keeping in most of the unorthodox grammar and punctuation/capitalization, though in a few cases I did fix some of the spelling typos (in “Duty Free Shop,” for example, the word “Duty” was spelled out as “Doody”). All songs written by Tom Champagne, with the exception of “Crestfallen,” which was co-written with Bill.


Apply Your Skills (written September 3rd, 1997)

VERSE 1: Around your home, it is a mess,
Full of junk and little insects.
You have the talent, you have the tools,
You even lay around when the air is cool.
Your relationship is on the brink,
You have parasites living in ya’ sink,
But do not be displeased,
It all can be fixed with a little ease.

CHORUS 1: So, you gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta apply your skills,
You gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta get off those pills
When the pets aren’t mean,
And your toilet is clean,
You go down to the basement to build another machine.

VERSE 2: You have no job,
Your only friends, all work with the mob,
Where is your money,
Your life is quite funny,
Funny, mad and really sad.
Maybe a cardboard box isn’t looking so bad.

CHORUS 2: So, you gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta apply your skills,
You gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta get off those pills
When the pets aren’t mean,
And your toilet is clean,
You go down to the basement to build another machine.

VERSE 3: When your running the house, trying to catch a mouse,
Don’t expect no, calls from Publisher’s Clearing House,
The walls aren’t painted, and your girlfriends fainted
Your fantasies of fame were just flushed down the drain

CHORUS 3: So, you gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta apply your skills,
You really, really, really have to scrub the window sill,
When the pets aren’t mean, and your toilet is clean,
You go down to the basement to build another machine.

VERSE 4: Your future’s abysmal,
Your credits have fizzled,
The TV is trashed,
And your lightbulbs are smashed.
But you have nothing to fear,
Living like a spud on your favorite rocking chair.

GUITAR SOLO

CHORUS 4: So you gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta apply your skills,
You better, better, better, better get off those pills.
So you better, better, better, better apply your skills
You better stop snacking on roadkill.
When the pets aren’t mean, and your toilet is clean,
You go down to the basement to build another machine.
So you gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta apply your skills,
You will never, never, never be the King of the Hill.

You gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, Gotta!

Apply your skills.


Duty Free Shop (written September 3rd, 1997)

At the duty free shop,
You can buy some books, you can bump into crooks,
At the duty free shop…

At the duty free shop,
One dark-light day, I went the wrong way
At the duty free shop,
I found lot of sweets, and assorted meats,
On my journey, in the duty free shop…

I once got lost,
At the duty free shop.
I spoke to the boss,
Of the duty free shop.

I took a glance, at a couple’s dance,
On the floors,
Of the duty free shop.
When my plane arrived,
It crashed with a nose dive,
Right about near…
The duty free shop.

So I was alone,
At the duty free shop.
I called my friend,
All the time he spends,
At the duty free shop.

My hands were full
With magazines and a glow in the dark skull,
All a night’s work,
At the duty free shop.

On the ride home,
From the duty free shop,
I asked my friend,
What “Doody” was.
He laughed at my words,
He called me absurd,
For “Doody” was nothing,
At the Duty Free Shop.

Oh, I like to shop at the duty free shop.


Why is the Cat the Best Ever! (written September 14th, 1997)

VERSE 1: Meow! Meow!
Some say I’m the best
They are all right
For I am the greatest
Ever to step in the light
Look, at the basket down there,
It is wide open with square
I shoot this little ball,
Into that hoop with a swish, with a swish, with a swish, swish, swish, swish, swish

CHORUS: Why is the Cat, the best ev-everr,
One day I shall tell you, Beweedoto,
But for now he’s the greatest,
To me and to you

VERSE 2: I am the greatest,
Look at the stats,
Look it’s a basket,
I will make the ball in,
Thus, I never miss,
When was the last time I bricked,
But I’m the greatest,
Oh, yeah I’m great,

HARMONICA SOLO

CHORUS: Why is the Cat the best ever,
One day I shall tell you.
But for now he’s the greatest,
To me and to you.

HARMONICA SOLO

VERSE 3: You see I’m the best,
I am so grand,
I am spectacular
I’m just the best,
Beweedoto

CHORUS: Why is the Cat the best ever,
One day I shall tell you, Beweedoto
But for now he’s the greatest,
To me and to you

KEYBOARD SOLO

VERSE 4: You see I am grand,
I am spectacular,
The crowd stands and rises,
They cheer & yell,
But I am so cool,
They cheer and cavort,
I look around,
And then end it off with a laugh & a snort

CHORUS: Why is the Cat the best ever
One day I shall tell you, Beweedoto,
But now he’s the greatest,
To me and to you,
Why is the Cat the best ever
One day I shall tell you, Beweedoto,
But now he’s the greatest,
To me and to you,

HOOS & HUMS

CHORUS x4: Why is the Cat the best ever,
One day I shall tell you, Beweedoto,
But for now it’s a secret,
To me and to you.


Living on the Edge (written September 19th, 1997)

VERSE 1: When the lights are blazing,
When the fires raging,
The world is solely staging,
For your downfall,
You got an ultimatum,
You gotta liberate ‘em,
You always see the glass
Only half full.
You gotta impress us,
You gotta entertain us,
Use your tricks and your skills,
Send us all the thrills.

CHORUS: When your living on the edge
Living on the wire,
Living on an edge,
Waiting for the fire.

VERSE 2: When your hero doesn’t show up,
And your girl has left you,
You’re looking like a circus act,
All dressed up in hatred.
You even go to the lengths,
The fires never relent,
So when the demons show up,
You take it to the streets.

CHORUS

VERSE 3: Sometimes-the-wind-blows-west,
And you continue, to go left,
And the clowns handle the jokes,
And the fire-eaters blow out smoke,
And the joker pulls the ace,
Spits it back right into your face,
And the joker pulls the ace,
Spits it back right into your face,

CHORUS

VERSE 4: But the slaves never protest,
And the merchants never sleep or rest,
When the Jesters recite speeches,
And the jugglers juggle leeches,
When the King loses freedom,
And you’ve got an ultimatum,
Those Angels always show around,
When your feet raise off the ground,

CHORUS

VERSE 5: The spirits all rejoice and sing,
The doors are locked and the hornets sting.
Living alone remains a farce,
A sane human being is very sparse,
Heretics crowd the streets,
The city pollution isn’t too sweet,
A lawyer sings a prayer,
While the Joker wins praise.
The centaurs and goblins ponder,
While the gambler ends the stanza,
The options fill a lonely sky,
Evolution could make you cry.

CHORUS

HA, HA, HA, HA,
Watch those fires blaze
HA, HA, HA, HA, HA,
Watch those fires blaze

Hot Shots (written October 4th, 1997)

CHORUS: Hot Shots! Can you feel the heat?
Hot Shots! Can you rhyme the beat?
Hot Shots! Could you cool my feet?
Hot Shots! Could you stop my fleet?

VERSE 1: Wrecking all the neighbors
And feeling all the warmth,
Sucking all the hoses
And living in the swamp,
Fire in my eyes don’t
Ever wear out, the contacts eat
My soul and throw screams or shouts,
We’re the hot shots, we’re the
Best, we make the humor and
Throw out the jests,
A power of mine is always
Conceding, a heart of flames is
Slowly breathing…

CHORUS

VERSE 2: Memories of a rainy day,
Jade stones melt by harbor bay,
Memories of a sunny day,
Clouds and all inhabit their stay.
Oh, yeah, don’t heat my flames,
Don’t resent or play memory games,
This story has only begun,
The icicles melt and the winters done.

CHORUS

VERSE 3: Power possessed by merchant slaves,
Shots of jealousy, fits of rage,
Living in an animal’s cage,
Jumping back from stage to stage,
I’m smoking, fire shoots from my finger-tips,
Jump over ledges and take lotsa risks,
Walking over endless hills,
Never knowing when to apply your skills.

CHORUS

Rejoice, the part’s over,
Get your gifts and fuel the motors,
Hotshots, the stanzas ended,
Don’t run back feeling all offended.
You can succeed the greatest of flames,
Don’t make me part of your memory games,
The centerfold circle is becoming chilly,
The hot shots freeze, now wasn’t that silly.

CHORUS


When We Live (written October 12th, 1997)

VERSE 1: The forests must always smooth our souls,
Lift our spirits and live untold,
Heroics of a brand new world,
Melt as fast as a Jell-O mold.

CHORUS: When we live,
We must forgive,
When we live,
We must forgive,
When we live,
We must forgive,
For we have to cleanse our bodies, of our sins.

VERSE 2: Down beside a murky beach,
You retain a merchant’s speech,
Living large is playing the game,
Of a ruler without a name.

CHORUS

VERSE 3: Our lives remain in jeopardy,
Grazing forests not meant to be,
One word seems to claim the peace,
Looking back for the Golden Fleece.

CHORUS

And we have to lead our lives, with open eyes.

CHORUS

VERSE 4: One world seems a little too much,
Reasons of hostility proclaim such,
The neutrals and the rebels join,
Fate determined by the flip of a coin.
Why must we live in a world of smog,
Dressed up for our daily jog,
The answers lie all in our hearts,
Bashful heroics are all for not.

CHORUS x3


Kick’ em in the Shins (written November 30th, 1997)

CHORUS: Punch ‘em in the mouth,
Knock ‘em to the ground,
And you kick ‘em in the shins.

VERSE 1: I don’t like your company,
Spit it back at you,
I’m gonna drop kick ‘ya,
With my super big shoe,

I think you’re the worse,
I gnaw at your soul,
I know it’s gonna hurt,
Getting kicked by my soles.

This is my motto,
This is my creed,
Your wrongful false judgment,
Another kick you don’t need,

I’m nobody’s fool,
Can’t you take a hint?
Make another U-turn,
And kick ‘em in the shins!

CHORUS x2

VERSE 2: You’re a lousy freak,
You have no friends,
The trouble you seek,
Your heels will never mend.

The thought of your pain,
Is nice & sweet,
But you should’ve understood,
Not to provoke my feet.

I am a nightmare,
I dress in black suits,
Look at what is coming at you!
My big bad ol’ boot!

Never insult me,
It’s your greatest sin,
You better run away,
Or I’ll kick ya’ in the shins!

CHORUS x5


Fear in the Bedroom (written December 17th, 1997)

VERSE 1: You open up your eyes, at the very start of dawn,
You see an open door, and think that we all are gone.
But one amusing soul, keeps working every day & night
To keep your eyes in place, to never flow back in sight.
This is from a friend, you’ll listen and it’s over then,
I want to help you now, them keep working on your scowl
Please listen to this note, or else you’ll miss the boat.
The crowd will laugh at you, and you’ll miss your chance to gloat.
I am your only friend, so take me very seriously.
Like every other note, it closes with “sincerely.”
The party starts at eight, so come by with a plate of cake,
It’s at your favorite school, you’re being watched by another ghoul.

CHORUS: Sing it, sing it, whoah, hohohoho, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
whoah, hohohoho, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
The game has just begun, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
Again, the phone has rung, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
They say that we’ll have fun, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
The bedroom’s where they come, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on.

VERSE 2: They say that this is life, then stab ya’ with another knife,
They call you every day, in their nonchalant way,
But the truth will always remain, you’ll never know the name,
A shame that they have come, ruining all your fun,
They say the parties at nine, time to commit another crime,
Although it’s at the ridge, look! Another burning bridge,
Hello, the nice boy says, you couldn’t settle for less,
He leads you back to home, and calls on your table phone,
What he wants is cruel, for he’s coming after you,
I’d warn you right now, but it wouldn’t be fair to the crowd.

CHORUS 2: whoah, hohohoho, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
I see you coming fast, in this world you’ll never last,
I laugh at your face, just scare me when those lights aren’t on,
I’ll put you in your place, just scare me when those lights aren’t on,
You really have no case, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
Tonight is the long race, to see if you can pick up the pace,
Set… your clocks for eight, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
I’ll wait, so hesitate, just scare me when those lights aren’t on.

VERSE 3: See me coming now, at a 50 on the fast lane,
Keepin’ comin’ at ya’, I couldn’t keep my mind sane,
The party can’t start, without you, please come through.
Always going, collapsing, on my favorite red balloon,
You sit by the set, decorating your own head.
Setting up the stage, while you’re coming onto age,
Only my enemy, has to be my friend,
The parties now at nine, all the invitations sent,
We cannot go on forever, so please remember me.
You’re the life I’ve followed, bargain to the plea,
Please understand that I’m the only one for you,
Even the obvious sometimes can be true,
Even in this world of hatred, there’s things we never knew,
The world spins on an axis, while we keep on paying taxes,
The messages sent are done in faxes, this is how we pay those passes,
Throw our money in Christmas baskets, sprucing up but remains lavish…
Remains lavish, always garish, remains lavish…

CHORUS 3: whoah, hohohoho, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
You’re sitting there with cries, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
Even the best saint lies, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
Never realize true demise, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
The creature’s minds are spies, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
Don’t follow trusting eyes, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
I’ll leave you otherwise, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
You’ll never compromise, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
The facts we never realize, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
There’ll shrink you down in size, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on.
whoah, hohohoho, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
The parties at nine o’clock, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
It’s around the corner block, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
The room is dark & black, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
You’ll have to take some slack, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
You now deserve a whack, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
The parties done, you’re not coming back, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
whoah, hohohoho, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
whoah, hohohoho, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
The party is at nine, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
Send chills down your spine, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
whoah, hohohoho, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
whoah, hohohoho, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,
whoah, hohohoho, don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on,

Fear in the Bedroom, Don’t scare me when those lights aren’t on x6

TRIVIA: as noted above, this is actually one of Tom’s earliest songs, conceived even before “Apply Your Skills,” even though it took him awhile to finally commit it to paper. A canon Cat Band song, it was nevertheless never rehearsed or recorded.


Super Mario (written sometime in 1997)

VERSE 1: Mario is very cool
King Koopa is cruel,
Mario has friends to the end
Mario can fight and defend.

He can clean and fix your drain,
His awesome moves will dazzle your brain.
Mario is very great, he’s awesome, destroys hate
He is the one to get, Super Mario is the best.

VERSE 2: When these plumbers arrived in Mushroom Land,
Under false pretenses and circumstance,
They found feathers and mushrooms,
And fire flowers that always bloomed.

When they arrived at the palace,
The King was full of malice.
For Koopa, that evil reptile,
Brought the Princess to exile.

VERSE 3: Mario flies to the top,
Luigi a feather, he gives Koopa a stomp.
And the Princess is saved as well,
The Mushroom Kingdom is quite swell.

Mario celebrates with a bowl full of pasta,
Ziti, spaghetti, lasagna and matza,
Princess smiles and gives him a grin,
And the plumbers return to Brooklyn.

They will fight Shy-Guys and Thwomps,
Wigglers, Bloopers, Urchins and Bob-ombs,
Koopa Troopers and Charging Chucks,
The Bullies are all out of luck.

Mario is a plumber.
He is Super Mario.
He is Super Mario.
He is Super Mario.

TRIVIA: It is unknown exactly when this song was composed, other than at some point in 1997. It’s notable not only for being one of the few Cat Band songs that doesn’t have a chorus, but also because the lyrics are sung to the melody of the Super Mario theme song.


Our House (July 13th, 1998)

VERSE 1: Forest grove,
Sunny lane.
Running by the shore, and ripping in the tides
Losing all the action and closing all the doors,
And living in the sanction of inner city drugs.
Cosmopolitan sunshine and little dust remains,
On the suits of fraud and raging on the streets,
Opening in the windows and breathing in some air,
While you spittle on the sidewalks and taken little care

CHORUS 1: Our House, in the middle of the room, Our House
Where the showings are the room, Our House,
When you’re living on a broom, Our House,
Things are always at the room…

VERSE 2: Little rocks, big stones alike, riding ashtrays
And living on the edge, of a really dark place
Where the light goes dim and caring on a
Dark rave of caring while you sing, and
Craving the cats and the rain that’ll fall,
While you Bam, Bam, see it falling like cats and dogs.

Buying endless pennies and working endless
Hours, at a deadbeat place where you liken
All the flowers and caring for the rugs and the
Window panes for catchin’ all the codes
And getting colds for sneezin’ is a shame
And things are getting insane

CHORUS 2: Our House, in the middle of the room,
Our House, things’ll come in around soon,
Our House, where the radio’ll boom, Our House,
In that little cramped room, Our House,
Things’ll get better soon, Our House, where
The over(?) things maroon, Our House, scrubbin’
(????) in the room, Our House, what a, what a,
What a room.

SOLO

VERSE 3: Sensations filled, promises made,
And running around with your head
Tied back, and living on crack, while
The trash is exhausted and going all
Berserk as you, run around the corner,
Heh, heh, Getting all the things are free,
And making all provocative, reading digests
And journals and singing all dem carols…

CHORUS 3: Our House, in the middle of the room,
Our House, my Girl, things will come all soon,
Our House, rackin’ up all the brooms, Our House,
When the reach is far come noon, Our
House, in the middle of the room,
Our House, And the cinemas are cool, Our House,
Things are showing up at noon, Our House,
When the light changes to doom, Our House,
In the middle of the room, Our House,
In the middle of the room, Our House

TRIVIA: although this is considered a canon Cat Band song, the band never recorded (or even rehearsed) a version of it, perhaps because the chorus is highly derivative of the song “Our House” by Madness.


New to You, New to Me (written August 30th, 1998)

VERSE 1: Clocks turning the winds/ winding so loud/
Humming those things/ singing aloud/
Crimson carnations/ sunny ball rooms/
Past presentations/ Violent moons/
Luck of the Irish/ wings of the dove/
Things you can relish, hug, kiss and love/
Roads you can take/ versus roads you can diss/
Sunny park lake compared to carnage you missed/
Chris Elliott’s the guy/ He loves his movies/
He’s cool like Superfly/ He’s Dom Wooginowski/
Every part he plays/ will encertain our faith/
To always be together/ to always be great/

CHORUS 1: If it’s new to you/ than it’s new to me/
Living with fame/ outside of Hollywood/
Count 1,2,3/ we’re closer to free/
It’s new to you/ then it’s new to me/

VERSE 2: Oh, running, out of time and the/ pressure’s on your head/
But, nothins’ workin’ out/ so you try to get ahead/
Do the right thing/ and cut a few corners/
People can’t complain/ when you’re one of them mourners/
You got a, heart of steel/ and a passion for good life/
But your/ taste is sold/ so you grab the knife/
Come check out/ see what the hypes about/
You can, try to read the papers/ and, um/ learn some more/
Become a/ docta docta/ and a, semi charmed hypester/
The/ clock on the wall/ won’t budge till you/ give it a try…
Till ya give it a try/… try/ try/ try…

CHORUS 2: If it’s new to you/ than its new to me/
Livin’ on the fire/ Is the place to be/
Count 1,2,3/ we’re closer to free/
Is news to you/ is news to me.

Gonna heat things up/ and go nighty night/
Gonna call a bluff/ and grab a Sprite

VERSE 3: Things going round and round/ and round and round/
Going in circles/ and ol’ Downtown/
Cracking the city/ like your knuckles/
Traffic is gritty/ causing some chuckles/
Real world seems/ so far away/
Living alone/ those nights away/
Kissin’ off/ them joker’s cries/
Lyin’ bout/ their big blue eyes/
Teach me how/ to be the rainmaker/
Toss me into/ that big wide sha-ker/

CHORUS 1

CHORUS 3: If it’s new to you/ than/ it’s new to me/
Do the right thing/ so let it be/
Count down 1,2,3/ yeah, closer to sweet/
New to you/ new to me…

If it’s new to you/ than it’s new to me
And we’ll all be in the center
Joining hands for harmony

One step closer to harmony…
Come experience what it has to be

TRIVIA: this song was originally entitled “What’s News to Me, is News to You.” The Chris Elliot lyric is a reference to the character he played in the film There’s Something About Mary, which my brothers had watched that summer.


As They Go (written November 11, 1998)

Lightning strikes,
Shootin’ powder,
Kissin’ storm,
Faithful mourn,
Lousy show,
Striking hard,
Lion roared,
And ya’ watch em’ go.

Show me money,
& show me green,
Show me remedies
And show me mean,
Give me a show,
Give me praise,
Give me a raise,
Hartie Hartie Hartie Ho.

Evolution,
High on glue,
Revolution,
Skys ‘em blue,
Crying shoulder,
Yellow moon,
Arriving soon,
All as they go.

3 past noon,
Crazy lights,
Final fights,
In dancing rooms,
Ugly ammo,
Big machines,
Men in green,
All as they go.

Mean streets,
Armed forces,
Street wars,
& wicker seats,
Anti hero,
Pistol Pete,
Placid streets,
All as they go.

Nuclear attacks,
Clever time,
Bad pick up line,
At tips of hacks,
Light shows,
Acid rain,
Human pain
All as they go.

TRIVIA: though this isn’t a canon Cat Band song, I’ve added it in here because I find it amusing.


Lucky Hand (written December 13th, 1998)

Once, twice, 3 times fold,
Quick to judge, slow to hold.
I’ve never been one of those backstreet guys,
But with Lady Luck we can compromise

With a gnome,
A gnome,
And a car side thief,
A backstreet lady and a shady brief
And an upchuck, roar, and a downside pipe,
With a hearing blown over stereotype

Cheating dissolves a hairspray can,
With Pantene on your shoulders, and a helping hand,
And an up-up cause and a down-down slide,
And the race for humanity will hi-hi-hide.

So it’s once, twice, 3 times fold,
Summer’s hot, while winter’s cold,
I’ve never been one of those season guys,
But give me a jacket & I’ll be safe on all sides
And it didn’t roll, it didn’t roll, to keep me shady,
Oohhh…

Dagger prints, and a clever edge,
But a dull numb spot will keep it from that ledge,
And a sharp-sharp honey from the Miami Beach,
Will keep your eyes in place, too nimble on the feet,

So it’s once, twice, 3 times fold,
The mansion’s looking good yet it is sold,
I’ve never been quite the fix-it-guy,
But I’ve proved my worth as a hitman spy,
You know it didn’t help, it didn’t help, it didn’t help, save that cat,
And it didn’t roll, it didn’t roll, on a surface flat

SOLO

Keeping a distance,
Running the lanes,
Preserving the helpless, and raising the stakes,
Fold if your o-out, and put back that man,
Spin if your lucky, you lucky h-and
Half and, half and, half and, whoah!

So once, twice, 3 times fold,
A loser’s riding on a pot of gold,
I’ve never been one of those romantic guys,
But give me a try and step to the side
You know it didn’t help, it didn’t help, it didn’t help to win that game,
And it didn’t roll, it didn’t roll to clear my name.

Once, twice, 3 times fold,
The wise man said winning is foretold,
And I’ve never been one of those faithful guys,
But with a smoke in one hand I can change those v-ibes…

Once, twice, 3 times fold,
Quick to judge, too slow to hold,
I’ve never been one of those backstreet guys,
But with Lady Luck, we can compromise…

So once, twice, 3 times fold,
Fight for silver, fight for gold,
With an upchuck here & an upchuck there,
We can only try to save it with a rising cheer…

A loser’s heart can be a pot of gold

TRIVIA: again, this isn’t a canon Cat Band song.


In Time (written February 16th, 1999)

VERSE 2: Ohh, 1962 was the years- of the years,
For the catcherman, stand-in-tan, tanning
Bed fan, for the super and the natural and the
Communistic wars, for a sedative, rock
Broker for the kinds of many jobs.
Fisting here, and fisting there, a happy meal
For you, with circus clowns all on the ground
And Friday night for two.
For the game rocking, steal-sharking, book
Larking hero kinda gravedigging, gold
Clicking, bad-ass kinda might, for a tentative,
Rock-super, super scary, kinda fright.
Hitch a ride, get a job, slogan’s all for
You, natural, realistic, spiced up kinda soup.
Where every singles got a purpose and it’s
All done just right, so fisting up a storm,
Key shades twenty times a night.

CHORUS: Oh-oh, once in a time we played
Those drums, once in a time we had some
Fun, once in a time made cracks at you,
Once in a time, candlelight for you

VERSE 2: Chain-chomping, dildo hopping kinda fuckin’
Atmosphere, where yer barking up a tree
With no branch, scent, or alla trees.
Lanes a churning, hose a squirting
Snitching kinda guy, for the revolt
Serving, bellhop turning vista towards
The sky. Say ‘buenos dias’, welcome-hello,
Greetings earthlings too, and a pow, bam,
Karate jam, ‘nother planet down the tube.

CHORUS 2: So once in a time we banged those
Drums, once in a time we had some
Fun, once in a time served wine for two,
Once in a time said I love you.

REFRAIN: Oh (prolonged), what a journey, what a light show,
Played it all for you, clapper ready hats
A steady flinging kinda troop. Standard
Fist and racing, just a crazy foolish
Shit… oh, running round a football field the
Size of Greenland, no. Card sharkin’
Be-bopping steady kinda hog a ready, churning
Teddy, inspiring semi-creep, goes drip-drip
Down to a stick and beeped horn over
T’you.

HARMONICA REFRAIN

BRIDGE: Racing temples, grass still growing,
Rocks a turnin’, shows still showing.
What a time, what a time, carnival deluxe,
What a time, for a fuckin’ show, steady wit them fucks,
Taking shit on sticks for twice too many years,
Cheering on through heckler’s jeers.

BUNCHA REFRAINS

TRIVIA: yet another non-canon Cat Band song, though of historic interest as it’s one of Tom’s first songs to employ the use of profanity. Also of interest is the fact that at one point Tom was originally considering adding it to the tracklisting of The Cat Band’s Greatest Hits, though it was eventually cut (most likely because it was never even recorded).


Blue Cat (written 1999)

VERSE 1: He’s a cat,
A blue cat.
Washed in blue
He will cry for you.
He purrs away,
All through night and day,
Oh what joy,
Give this cat a toy.
He’s a cat,
Washed in blue,
He will cry for you,
Until he’s through.

CHORUS 1: The rain will pour and will make him blue,
He’s a blue cat.
Live in dirt, you hear a crying purr,
He’s a blue cat.
Oh, what a lonely sight,
He’s a blue cat.
Even on the coldest night,
He’s a blue cat.

VERSE 2: Oh, with whiskers limp,
He stands, two legs a gimp.
Oh, with his collar gone,
Singing his blue song.

CHORUS 2: Watch him jump to a higher level,
He’s a blue cat.
See him strong, in his fragile state,
He’s a blue cat.
Oh, he’s still your friend,
He’s a blue cat.
Even to the end,
He’s a blue cat.

BRIDGE: When the traffic is long,
And the fire’s all gone,
Never spotted the heater,
As he pulled the trigger.

CHORUS 3: Oh, alone at peace,
They said that it would take weeks.
But the cat is now happy,
Oh because he’s free.

CHORUS 3: The rain will pour and will make him blue,
He’s a blue cat.
Live in dirt, you hear a crying purr,
He’s a blue cat.
Oh, what a lonely sight,
He’s a blue cat.
Even on the coldest night,
He’s a blue cat.

The rain will pour and will make him blue,
He’s a blue cat.
Live in dirt, you hear a crying purr,
He’s a blue cat.
Oh, what a lonely sight,
He’s a blue cat.
Even on the coldest night,
He’s a blue cat.

TRIVIA: the exact date for this song’s composition is unknown, but it was most likely written sometime in-between March/April of 1999. At the very least, it was written before “Magic.”


Magic (written April 16th, 1999)

VERSE 1: City walls made, hot spots and shade, all a big part of the plan
Becoming of age, taking a page, someone other than that man,
Rabbits in hats, mongrels in packs, pulling their ropes into traps,
Cheerin’ you on, guilt by some fun, oh no, they’re goin’ away.

Travel visits, habits and bits, life on a farm where he sits,
Holding a cord, feeling so bored, while technology comes in hordes,
Feeling so dumb, what you’ve become, only to realize it’s done,
Robots and trends, fashion depends, on the only road that bends

CHORUS: Oh, oh, oh, oh, it’s magic, oh, oh, oh, oh, it’s magic, oh oh oh oh oh oh oh,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, it’s magic, oh, oh, oh, oh, it’s magic, oh oh oh oh oh oh oh,

VERSE 2: gra-ass and weeds, strange ancient beads, worlds with adventurous deeds,
Gla-assy eyes, slicing box tides, lights flash and the-en resides,
People in chains, growing back pains, all just an excuse for shame,
Taking the shots, stupid robots, All of the world corrupts…

Rain pouring down, sliding to ground, drowning and floods all around,
Wild young faces, the future erases, remembering those awkward places,
Planets rotate, California earthquakes, all of the things bakers bake,
Slow miracles, yeah they’ll happen, they’ll happen when you least expect it…

CHORUS

BRIDGE: Feeling so harsh, Like a bridge and a rock
And a hard place where you can’t go far,
So it’s war, and it’s here, and it can’t run,
So you are stuck, in a rut, by your gut,
Where you are between it now…

SOLO

CHORUS

VERSE 3: Oh, playing a game, feeling the same, all just a part of the plan,
Feeling so right, when you feel so wrong, why does this drag on so long,
Cruel encounters, shows with masters, like a special kinda treaty,
When you are down, rem-edy found, like the final puzzle piece…

CHORUS x3

TRIVIA: this song was inspired by a word spoken by noted Japanese actor Mako Iwamatsu in the role of Sam Tanaka on Frasier season 1, episode 22 “Author, Author” (skip ahead to 10:50 on the video): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KpR0BIfqKGQ


Soviet Union (1999)

I went to the Soviet Union
I saw things that will shake your skin,
I went to the Soviet Union
I had to, I had to

I had to go to the Soviet Union
I saw gray clouds in the Soviet Union
I saw things that will change your life
And never want to see again
Things you don’t want to see twice
They’re a world of compromise
I don’t want to go back there
I had to, I had to

I went to the Soviet Union
I saw Yakov
He was telling filthy jokes
Craziness, craziness
I saw Valentine
He called me a defector
I had to, I had to, I had to
I had to go to the Soviet Union
I went to the Soviet Union

Communism
Can’t help it, can’t help it
I’m stuck here, I’m stuck here
Forever
I had to, I had to
I had to go to the Soviet Union

TRIVIA: this was one of the songs the band tended to play during the “live” shows of the Cat Band’s Hootie tour. The lyrics were never actually written down (in fact, Tom often changed them for each version), but this is a transcription of one of the versions. For this song, Tom would often adopt a stereotypical Russian accent. The “Yakov” lyric is a reference to the Russian comedian Yakov Smirnoff: though we had never seen a set of his at that time, we had seen that skit on The Ben Stiller Show where Ben Stiller spoofed Yakov’s act. The Valentin lyric is, of course, a reference to the Valentin Zukovsky character from the Pierce Brosnan James Bond films. For some reason Tom has always had an interest in Russia: many of his books often feature a character whose last name is Kremlin.


Federal Express Person (written October 8th, 1999)

VERSE 1: I was here
And there
Here & there
Like Times Square
Like a bored and lonely person
With all my packages
And all the brown cardboard,
And all the puffy tissue paper,
I-I-I felt stuck in a caper…
Door-to-door, door-to-door
Floor-to-Floor, Floor-to-Floor
Aw-Aw-Aw-Aw-Aw
Can’t get nothing, I’m a something,
Feel some rotten luck,
No exception, no reception
I still look at you.

CHORUS: Say it to my face
The Federal Express person is me
Say it to my face
The Federal Express person is me

VERSE 2: Can I have a glass of water,
Can I have a cookie too?
How about a 30 cent,
Stuck to my tongue with glue,
Wind, rain or shine
365-24-7
Should I have a place here,
Like a mail carrier’s heaven…
Door-to-door, door-to-door
Floor-to-Floor, Floor-to-Floor

CHORUS

TRIVIA: though considered a canon Cat Band song, the band never recorded or even rehearsed a version of this song.


The Drug Dealer Song (written sometime in 1999, exact date not known)

VERSE 1: Caught in the border
Caught in the border
Stuck between the metal & the tears
I don’t cry, I just try, to be someone spry,
Irrelevant to the picture as a whole,
Stuck in, stuck in,
A portal, involving the fight of the gods…
Every strike is tight…
Here comes number one…
We sit on the beach, counting the stars and spotting the dipper,
She’s quiet, looks at me, pulls down the zipper,
We are the beach now, the crab that shuffles the sand,
Hold the hand, hold the hand…

CHORUS: I feel things, tickle me… you are going away…
The apparition… I see… makes me look, makes me stay

VERSE 2: Behind my back, she goes to the counter, pulls out the box,
I sit attentively, scoping out my TV box,
Hold my drink, very light, no rocks, she is calm,
I know she’s up to shit, smoking pot, that’s the start…
Dragnet jumps in her eyes… it’s a psychedelic joy ride,
She goes on the couch, sits by my side…

CHORUS

VERSE 3: Same ol’ same ol’, cops flood in,
Big head, big head, burn the skin,
Back to the slammer, black & white.
She is so good, they don’t think she did the crime,
I’m so fuckin’ stoned now, still a blur…
I still miss it, but I don’t know what,
I feel grown up, like a skyscraper… Yeah,
Oh, & I’m cool, I’m cool… the drug dealer,
That’s another story, altogether…
His eyes are bloodshot, watches too much hockey…
I stumble, trip on my own tongue, feel rocky…

CHORUS

VERSE 4: I’m fucked… Like someone craving a high…
I’ll go to the height of extremes- They say they all die…
So I don’t give a fuck, she comes out of jail,
Shit, she tells me no more pot…
I say, ‘Yeah, I trust ya, like a snowball in Hell,’
So we part, strike two, tells me over the phone,
Got a part for you, make it well,
I don’t got fuckin’ time… so the cops come to me…
Wanting answers, blah,blah,blah… shit…
I tell her- she’s in the ghetto… Doing whatever the fuck she wants to…
It’s politics… It is all that…
I see her… craving the pot again…

CHORUS

VERSE 5: Yeah, so she pulls me away by the collar, say it in the eyes…
Picture is still work a thousand words…
She says, ‘bugs are crawling up my skin’…
And I’m like, ‘I don’t have the ‘get out of jail free card.’
But we go back, I know the dealer, she makes it so
Obvious… so true…
She concludes one thing, she needs the pot,
So it’s a start, she is so fuckin’ smart,
I bust my ass, to get ahead… Fuck…
The dealer comes in, says he’s gonna take my life…
So I owed money… How tragic…
She says it bright, she’ll take that bullet… pulls out the
Knife…
Stabs the shit out of him… still a bullet fired…
Dammit… so blood is there… I fear… Yeah…
Two fucked up lives, strike 3… Donate the organs…
Make another penny…
Take the ashes… spread ‘em in a pot

CHORUS x2

VERSE 6: Hey, the way to play is to create the safe,
Spread the magic like a fairy, with pixie dust,
Shuffle-duffle stickle-pickle ohhh…
Anything for everyone is old…

TRIVIA: a canon Cat Band song, though a version of it wasn’t recorded to my knowledge: it was supposedly once played “live” during the Hootie tour, though. The laughably “gritty” thematic content was inspired by the New Radicals song “I Hope I Didn’t Just Give Away the Ending.”


Stand on Your Feet (written October 11th, 1999)

VERSE 1: Skip the basics, move to step one…
Forget the rhythm, just have some fun…
Skip the basics, move to step one…
Forget the rhythm, just have some fun…

Below the ocean,
Crested with treasure, and fear
Watch the forbidden,
The Caribbean Atmosphere,
A Luxury cruise,
With lights and a chandelier,
Elegant seating,
And we don’t even care,
The moon is the apex,
The stars, scattered here and there,
That I hear you so far,
So far out there somewhere…

CHORUS 1: So stand on your feet,
You’re the star I can’t meet,
You’re the race I can’t beat,
So rise to the top,
We can shop till we drop,
Isn’t it worth a shot?

VERSE 2: You’re my sunshine,
My light and my heaven,
You’re my sunset,
Just I don’t know where you’ve been,
My own nucleus,
The core of my heart again,
Holding my hands tight,
And soon our own children

CHORUS 2: So stand on your feet,
You’re the star I can’t meet,
You’re the race I can’t beat,
So rise to the top,
We can shop till we drop,
An Angel striking the Harp.

SOLO

VERSE 3: Fading away,
An image soon becomes light,
Now letting go,
A star that is far less bright,
A cruise to the islands,
I know you’ll meet that guy…
Atop the ocean,
We still had our own one night…

CHORUS 3: So stand on your feet,
You’re the star I can’t meet,
You’re the race I can’t beat,
So rise to the top,
We can shop till we drop,
An Angel striking the Harp.
So stand on your feet,
You’re the star I can’t meet,
You’re the race I can’t beat,
So rise to the top,
We can shop till we drop,
An Angel striking the Harp.
So stand on your feet,
La la la la la, la la la la la
So stand on your feet,
La la la la la, la la la la la
So stand on your feet,
La la la la la, la la la la la, oh yeah-yeah
So stand on your feet,
La la la la la, la la la la la laaaahh…

TRIVIA: though considered a canon Cat Band song, a version of this one was never recorded. Later on, when Tom was considering doing a solo album, this was one of the songs he planned to have on it.


Macha (October 27th, 1999)

VERSE 1: Everything has a reason, a beginning & an ending.
A purpose for everyone now…
Everybody has a problem, every road so grows rotten,
That I can’t listen to you all…
At a creek, or some type of river, like a grown man eating a liver,
Ain’t got sliver anywhere…
Everyone’s so cold but healing, every star is just so revealing,
So I have a motto for us all…

CHORUS: I ain’t got time for everybody’s mind, there ain’t no fooling around…
There ain’t a market, for filling people’s pockets, now won’t you please go away…

VERSE 2: Cross-hatched, inner beginning, new world, never forgiving,
That we are all stuck in here…
Squirrel bites, likes some more acorns, devil screams, can’t get an angel,
Like a classic confrontation,
So scared, oh so shrunken, buried treasure, it’s all sunken,
We still have regards…
Everything has a reason, a beginning & an ending,
A purpose for everyone now…

CHORUS x2

SOLO

CHORUS

VERSE 3: Oh it’s a world, a world of peace, like people, slipping tricks,
For everyone of us, convey its truth, & all of us retreat, & all of us retreat…
And all of us retreat…
That’s macha, that’s macha, that’s macha, that’s matcha

TRIVIA: this cryptic song (even by The Cat Band’s unusual standards), though considered a canon Cat Band track, was never rehearsed or recorded by the band.


Racist Rabbit (December 12th, 1999)

CHORUS: And the Racist Rabbit can’t break the habit of,
Being a bigot every minute making laughter of,
Every race from every place to us, oh…

VERSE 1: Sitting pretty watch your TV with your favorite toy,
See a sign can’t go blind, try to throw your joy…
Good ol’ Bugs, lots of love? Better take a closer look boy… Oh…
See that gray bunny, who thinks he’s funny, for just in case,
Watch out, fall out, all those who exist of another race,
Ice cream in a grenade, bam! He calls you monkey face!

CHORUS

VERSE 2: Now there’s the duck, outta luck, pickin’ all the cotton,
Black in color, like a brother, means he’s doomed to sin,
Damn I say, to the racist way, it’s just the color of his skin, oh…
Popeye, that guy, with all the spinach tells us
No American, no vote’ll count like ya got the curse
Or sometin’… well the only sap’s the sailor cap guy screaming conformist! Oh.

CHORUS

VERSE 3: Ya mesmerized, so surprised by what the TV had to say,
Go out, shout ya mouth at all whom’re black & gay…
So yer the cartoon, so soon, no one can break your bigot ways…

CHORUS

SOLO

CHORUS X2

SOLO

TRIVIA: this song, which has some of Tom’s most amusing lyrics, was one of The Cat Band’s first protest songs: a pity they never recorded it. It was inspired by a book I came across in the Rhode Island College library entitled Forbidden Animation: Censored Cartoons and Blacklisted Animators in America by Karl F. Cohen, which analyzed racist imagery/content in old Disney and Warner Brothers cartoons, a concept that so fascinated Tom that he apparently felt the need to write a song about it. The “ice cream in a grenade” lyric is a reference to a scene that occurs in the 1944 episode “Bugs Bunny Nips the Nips,” in which Bugs says the immortal line “Here’s one for you monkey face” while giving booby-trapped ice cream bars to Japanese stereotypes (see the 6:18 minute mark in the video below):




Yours to Keep (August 15th, 2000)

VERSE 1: The wise guy…
Is a shy guy…
He’s your smooth guy…
But not your bright guy…

The business man,
Is a keen man,
He’s your money man,
But not your happy man,

The exciting fella,
Is a daredevil fella,
He’s your action fella,
But not your best-bet fella,

CHORUS: They’re yours to keep,
They’re yours to have,
But you can just choose one, on your Friday night…
They’re yours to keep,
They’re yours to have,
But you can just choose one, on your Friday night…

VERSE 2: The cool dude,
Is a ‘happening’ dude,
He’s your show-off dude,
But not your forever dude…

The movie star,
Is a big-time star,
He’s your famous star,
But not your shooting star…

The ladies’ man,
Is the all-around man,
He’s your prince charming man,
But I call him phony man

CHORUS

So decide right now,
From all these jerks you see,
It’d just be easier,
To just choose me.

CHORUS


Last Rock & Roll Star (written August 29th, 2000)

CHORUS 1: I’m the last man standing with a metal edge,
I’m the last man trying to impress critics,
I’m the last man doin’ squat but sex and drugs,
I’m your last Rock & Roll star.
I’m the last man done by a dying ear,
I’m the last man programmed by a radio dial,
I’m the last man alive without a brain,
I’m your last Rock & Roll star.

VERSE 1: Well, the critics start thinking you’re a cut above,
But your talents on just another blow where it hurts,
I could care less how many arenas you’ve filled,
To me you’re just burned out.

VERSE 2: Because you rely on sales and reunion tours,
And your substance is poisoned by your bad blood,
I don’t listen, block my ears, for a little while,
Cause you’ve lost your touch…

CHORUS 2: I’m the last man rockin’ with a thousand scars,
I’m the last man riding on a coupla hits,
I’m the last man smashing my guitars and laughing,
I’m your last Rock & Roll star.
I’m the last man making more cash than Gates,
I’m the last man attracting the weak minded,
I’m the last man relying on the name of fame,
I’m your last Rock & Roll star

BRIDGE/SOLO

VERSE 3: Well I pity your fans cuz they’re not too bright,
And I pity you too because you’re a nasty sight,
Your face looking wrinkled night after night
And you still think this is right?

CHORUS 1 REPEAT


Passionless (written October 1st, 2000)

Never wanted to
Hear from you,
You got a tin ear,
You can’t even sing,
Your songs sound the same,
Your lyrics are a shame,
Can’t stand to hear your voice,
Your direction makes me sick.

You don’t give me orders,
You don’t tell me what to write,
Every idea I granted you,
You whined ‘I can’t even play that!’
So you say my writing sucks,
You say you are the king?
Well try to match this song,
You couldn’t play a thing…

You always had a back-up,
Some other shitty band,
All dumb as granite,
All too insecure to make something good,
Your music is irresponsible,
It’s written for dolts like Gump.
Your ‘new’ lyrics are uninspired,
Any fuck can write a song about a fishbowl.

You’re poseur of the year,
No trophy, just shame for you,
Your songs ain’t about life,
They’re about things around the house,
Think about it fool,
You just might of missed your chance…
You settled for your shitty album,
But this babies going platinum.

TRIVIA: as previously noted, Tom wrote this song about Bill when Bill was threatening to leave the band. Not truly a canon Cat Band song, it was never even rehearsed (or possibly even finished, as there appears to be no chorus of any sorts). The lyric to “some other shitty band” is a reference to another band Bill was in at the time, formed with one of his friends in high school: both Tom and Andrew detested this other band, it must be said.


Harlem: 1st version (November 18th, 2000)

VERSE 1: When I was a boy,
Pretty but pale,
I had a bright young future,
But not all real.
And easy to please,
Was my parents who teased,
I was too nonchalant,
So they lived overseas,
So I was stuck here,
And I learned to live,
Like a sailor adjusting,
To the seas during night,
And all the lights are real pretty,
I’m not lying at all,
There is no shelter though,
That would crease this wall… Oh…

CHORUS: Oh-oh-oh, Harlem is,
Oh-oh-oh, Harlem is,
Oh-oh-oh, Harlem is,
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Oh-oh-oh, Harlem is,
Oh-oh-oh, Harlem is,
Oh-oh-oh, Harlem is,
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

VERSE 2: A brick in the wall,
I knew it would fall,
So it was right now,
And I ain’t scared at all
I’m restless
I’m fearless
Courageous
Contagious
What sparks me,
Is that wild life,
Curved, & busted,
Believe me right,
Get ready for a fight,
I’ll be there, lights
You know the cameras,
Action, rations, oh

CHORUS

Ready and
Ready and
Ready and
Ready and
Ready and
Ready and
Ready and
Ready and

Ready and
Ready and
Ready and
Ready and
Ready and
Ready and
Ready and
Ready and

SOLO

CHORUS

TRIVIA: although this was the first version of “Harlem,” the final version had a different set of lyrics written by Tom. Sadly, the lyrics to this second finalized version are currently MIA.


Crestfallen (May 9th, 2001)

VERSE 1: I look to the faded skies
And watch my dreams fly away
Been lookin’ at the world through jaded eyes
Been livin’ in the yesterday

I’m feeling more alone here,
The world’s a giant space
How quickly life turns cold… somewhere near,
My soul, it’s still a warm place

Cuz I’m still waiting for the time
And place, where solitude I’ll find,
Well, I will, get over it now,
And you think I’m better off somehow

CHORUS: While every heart is trying…
Some just lie here crying…
While every heart is trying…
Some just lie here crying…

VERSE 2: I hear the songs of tomorrow
And I read the famous signs
I steal the smiles from everyone I know
I’m still reading through the lines

Enticed, by all the pretty things
Arranged, in little gray lines
I never could understand why rings
Are the cause, for a life to shine…

Cuz I’m still waiting for the time
And place, where solitude I’ll find,
Well, I will, get over it now,
And you think I’m better off somehow

CHORUS

Cuz I’m still waiting for the time
And place, where solitude I’ll find,
Well, I will, get over it now,
And you think I’m better off somehow

CHORUS


Rain (October 22nd, 2001)

VERSE 1: Politics
Dirty tricks
Heretics
Pick up stix

Not again
Fatal sin
Falling in
Loser’s win

Broken heart
Fall’s apart
Take a shot
Hurt’s a lot

50 bucks,
Not enough
In the rough
Failing crutch

CHORUS: It’s just another rainy day
It’s just another heart I’d break
It’s just another rainy day with you
Whoah… whoah… whoah…
It’s just another rainy day
It’s just another game I’d play
It’s just another rainy day woah

VERSE 2: What’d you say?
Can we play?
No you can’t
Not today!

Like a bird
Like a plane
Cannot wait
For the Rain

Irony?
Certainly!
Devil’s work?
Can’t you see?

Blind in sight?
Focus gone
If rebels live
Sing along

CHORUS

TRIVIA: “Rain” (sometimes known as “Rainy Day”) was one of the last songs written in the Fifth Era of The Cat Band.



Links

Well, to be honest, there are none. The Cat Band did have a website back in the early 2000s (somewhat cheekily entitled “The Litter Box”) but that’s long gone. A few years back I did do a brief essay on my blog about Tom and Andrew’s books, though, which can be found here. (though this info is now almost 5 years out of date)

Finally, to end it off on a cheerful and cutesy note, here’s a photograph of my brothers and I from Halloween night 1987. I’m on the far left dressed like a shark, Andrew is next to me dressed like a kangaroo, Tom’s in the middle dressed like a peacock, and Bill’s on the far right dressed as a penguin.







*

p.s. Hey. Consummate and legendary guest-post maker Sypha aka author/music deviser James Champagne is generously back this weekend to tip us in his wondrous, elaborate way to The Cat Band, a recording and performing unit whose place in the annals of rock music will hopefully be secured as of the moment I've pressed 'Publish'. Please take full advantage of everything that's in store for you up there. And where would DC's be without you, and thanks galore, Sypha! ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. I personally would trust him with my life, ha ha. Somehow I had thought MJP had passed on, so I'm awfully glad to hear he's still riding buses and doing things. I should do a post about him, and I might just. Oh, wow, you have a new essay up! I'll read that delightedly and thoroughly in just a few minutes. Everyone, Mr. David Ehrenstein has what looks to be an unsurprisingly superb new think-piece/essay up at Fandor called 'The Post-Gay Way', and, needless to say, you simply must scrub it with your eyesight, which I can so easily help you do by highlighting these words with a blueish glow. ** Sypha, Thank you again and 'face-to-face' ever so much for this manna-filled weekend, James! Well, I'll certainly be curious to hear how 'Hogg' sits with you. Oh, crap, how was your lengthy B&N stint? I read somewhere that Black Friday itself has become a less crowded aftermath-type of thing now that Thanksgiving itself has become a part, so did you get the benefits of that phenom? ** Thomas Moronic, Ah, great! Gorgeous and incisive and mysteriously beautiful to a one. Isn't it strange that there isn't a band or at least a parodic rock band or at least a Morrissey song called Volcanic Prolapse? Unless there is. I admit I didn't google before I said that. Thank you, maestro of the three-lines and infinitely more! ** Bill, Hi, Bill. My Thursday was perfectly okay and like any other day with slight differences, which was plenty. Black Friday too, although I did get crushed very flat by French Black Friday shoppers on the metro when the train stopped at the Galeries Lafayette station. I am absolutely positive to the point of making a theoretical bet involving some astronomical promised sum that those runny cheeses would have pleased me no end. Thank you for answering my strange, naive question about the 'faded' jpegs. That makes the most sense of all, yes. Old cameras with film in them, of course. And perhaps the strange taste in Russian porn of the early 00s to pose models against pale yellow and green backgrounds. I can enter the weekend with one less nagging mystery in my brain. Thank you! ** Keaton, Hi, Lazy? Interesting. How so? Lazier than photography? Interesting idea. Yeah, producing nervousness has become kind of a given bordering on a trope of contemporary art. Yesterday, I went with Zac and Jonathan Mayhew to see the big 'Sade. Attaquer le soleil' show at the Musee d'Orsay, which I think you might have really liked since it's 90% paintings, of which about 70% are essentially old paintings that were kind of the equivalent of snuff porn back in their heyday. It had way too many paintings for me, but there were some startling goodies amongst them. The show's trailer has been super controversial here 'cos it's ... well, here it is. Anyway, when I was strolling through the show, I thought of you. I sort like Xmas time, it's weird, a weird aberration. What's in a chef's salad, I forget? I like caesar salad, but I can't remember what's in it either. ** Damien, Hi. You into weird shit? Nah, I don't believe it, ha ha. Me too, bro, as far as I can tell. I have come across slaves whose thing is mud, being muddied, being forced to live in mud, being raped in mud, being smothered to death with mud, being force-fed mud, being given mud enemas, etc, etc., but, very strangely, I have yet to find a mud slave whose profile text is interesting enough for him to qualify for my slave posts. Weird, no? I am very picky, however. I do know about guro, yeah. I used to be all over gurochan, etc., although I sort of got out of the habit for reasons unknown. Vore, sure, yeah. That's a popular guro subgenre thing. Being eaten alive is hot, for sure. Yeah, as I think Misanthrope sort of said, I think Jesse Starr quit both over money issues and because he had some gigantic falling out with some other twink porn star who was his boyfriend and worked at the same porn company. You've seen post-career webcam shots? Huh. I'll go look for those. ** _Black_Acrylic, Yay for immersive installation type things! Morning, Ben! ** Misanthrope, Hey. Yeah, I think Bill was onto something with the film vs. digital thing, and I think you're totally right about the lighting and stuff. And maybe Photoshop was more primitive back then. Well, it must have been. It's like those Russian porn twinks were covered with a thin layer of powdered sugar or something. I'm glad your aunt has an implemented recovery plan, but, shit, the financial stuff. Is there a way to get her finances out of the son's control without spending the next portion of your life in court? Yeah, to get those scenes in shape is going to take a marathon of work, I think. We'll see. Zac is doing the basic stuff of ordering everything, and then we'll start working together on the detailing and actual editing early next week. Oops, sorry about your Cowboys. ** Hyemin kim, Hi. I am really happy with that food. I'm easy with food when it has sesame on/in it in general, but with noodles, wow. I hope your work goes well. You take care too. ** Okay. Please indulge heavily, luxuriously, wildly, meticulously, etc. in this weekend's great post, and talk to Sypha accordingly, and have good IRL Saturdays and Sundays too! See you on Monday.

Parker Posey Day

$
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'Parker Posey’s Wikipedia page is severely deficient. In the late nineties, after starring in dozens of independent films, she was given the label “Queen of the Indies” by Time magazine, and that appears to be her only legacy. But in the two decades since her début, Posey has cemented herself as the greatest character actress of the last few decades. I was reminded of this last week, when a promotional video for the Primetime Emmys was released on YouTube. In the video, Posey plays an eccentric acting teacher named Jan (Just Act Naturally), who teaches a master class on Emmy acceptance speeches. Jan, who is invariably dressed like some kind of gypsy—all bell sleeves and costume jewelry—floats around her studio leading her students through vocal warmups, physical exercises, and theatre games. The video is something of an homage to Posey’s particular craft, even as she pokes fun at it.

'Over the span of her long career, Posey has always played characters you couldn’t take your eyes off of, and not just because she was and continues to be outrageously good-looking. In 1993, she was Darla Marks, a bitchy high-school senior and self-proclaimed “head girl” in the cult classic Dazed and Confused. In an improvised character interview for the movie, Posey waxes pitch-perfectly for three and a half minutes on “the high school, which I love, I can’t stand it.” In 1995’s Party Girl, she played a city girl-turned-librarian who embraces the Dewey Decimal system with aplomb. That same year, in Drunks, she performed another master monologue, and in Noah Baumbach’s Kicking and Screaming, she was Miami, a college senior fed up with her recently graduated boyfriend’s ennui. In Christopher Guest’s Best in Show, she played Meg Swan, one half of what is perhaps one of the best lampoons of a yuppie, J.Crew-wearing, Starbucks-drinking couple ever committed to film. Every line she delivers feels spontaneous, but not insincere.

'Posey grew up in Mississippi and retains a beguiling southern vocal mannerism—less a drawl than a stretching of her vowels—that she brings, in varying degrees, to every one of her characters. This combined with her almost sing-songy head voice can make many of her characters sound almost vacuous. But it is this delivery that makes her a theatrical genius. Posey appears practically unconcerned with what her characters are saying, and wholly focussed on how they’re saying it. Her character studies are all the more refreshing for never having been repeated (as opposed to those of, say, Seth MacFarlane). Recently, Posey has made some unforgettable guest appearances on television, including a turn as one of Louis C.K.’s love interests on his FX show, Louie. Liz is a bookstore clerk full of intrigue and red flags—one bartender recognizes and refuses to serve her. She and Louis go on a magical date that includes vintage dress shopping and sucking down herring at Russ and Daughters, but ultimately turns very sour; Posey’s execution is both hilarious and haunting. But if I had to pick a single role of Posey’s that exemplifies the breadth of her talent, it would be the aspiring actress Libby Mae Brown, who delivers an audition monologue in Christopher Guest’s Waiting for Guffman in a scene that was not even used in the film. It is a masterpiece of acting, at once poignant and funny, for four and a half flawless minutes. It takes a phenomenal actress to play such a convincingly bad one. How does she do it? She just acts, naturally.'-- The New Yorker



___
Stills





















































_____
Further

Parker Posey @ IMDb
Parker Posey Website
'Parker Posey's 10 Best Performances: From 'Party Girl' to 'Josie and the Pussycats''
'Parker Posey: Louie’s a creep!'
'An Ode To Parker Posey: '90s Indie Queen'
Interview: Parker Posey
Parker Posey interviewed @ INDEX Magazine
The Parker Posey Film Festival
'It’s a Bird! It’s a Plane! It’s . . . Parker Posey!'
ROCTAKON'S PARKER POSEY MIXTAPE
'Parker Posey: Film Economics and Funny Girls'
Fuck Yeah Parker Posey!
'Parker Posey undergoes surgery after breaking her wrist'
'Parker Posey joins the cast of Woody Allen’s next film'
'Parker Posey Revisits Her Top-Five Favorite Performances'
'Live from Sundance: A GQ&A with Parker Posey'
Parker Posey Fan Club



____
Extras


Parker Posey on The Tonight Show


Richard Linklater interviewed by Parker Posey


Parker Posey on Rosie O'Donnell (1997)


Parker Posey Loves Pottery


Parker Posey interviewed by Conan O'Brien



___________
Parker Posey's Diary from the Set of SubUrbia




From: Bosepud

Subj: intro.

To: MINDTHEGAP

Sent on: MAC

My intro:

Hi, this is Parker Posey and this is my journal for Suburbia. It's Richard Linklaters new film, written by Eric Bogosian. Read about what Really happens on movie sets. Discover the genius of Rick Linklater! And get to know the members of the cast! Know the scandal before everyone else does!

Or whatever. I mean, you can put anything, I don't care.

'kay, rust mun!

parker

by Parker Posey

*

Date: Mon, Mar 25, 1996 8:33 PM EDT

From: Bosepud

Subj: PP's S on S

To: MINDTHEGAP

Sent on: MAC

Day 1

I've just arrived in Austin to start a 2 week rehearsal on Richard "Rick" Linklater's (Slacker, Dazed and Confused, Before Sunrise) new film SubUrbia. It's written by Eric Bagosian, and was originally a Play staged for the theater in New York at The Lincoln Center.

*****I auditioned for the play, was up for the lead, "Sooze", and was interrupted during a line of my dialog on the second page (of a 10 pg. audition piece), by the director, who said to me, "That's enough, thank you." I told him, "No, Thank YOU" and left....of course.****I wonder if he did this to all the actors, and if maybe if I hadn't of left, if I woulda gotten the part. Different directors work in different ways. I dunno. It's something I Still think about, wonder about.....contemplate.

A week ago, the whole cast and Rick and Eric got together to read the script 4 times in Los Angeles. There's really nothing more exciting than hearing a piece of Work read over and over and over and over again. When I slept at night in the Hotel, the Whole script filled my being, and rang in my ears like a silver Bell bought at Tiffany's. It Echoed through me, is what I mean. By the fourth read threw I was already hearing its essense, its meaning, its story, and its plot.

Just to be really honest for a second, I must admit (and am not ashamed) that I was a little Sad that I couldn't Highlight as many lines as all the other actors. Giovanni and Aimee and Nicky and Jace, and Steve, and Dina and Ajay ALL have more Lines than I do. Nicky's highlighter marker ran out during one of his monolouges, and I coulda sworn he threw a Look to me, like, "You really should let me use YOUR highlighter PARKER." But maybe I was being paranoid. I dunno. This sort of thing always happens to me when I get Immersed in a Role. I "lose" myself. I start thinking like my character and I get confused, as to which thoughts are mine, and which thoughts are Hers. Anyway. Back to me for a second: There are no Small Parts, just Small Actors. And I will be so good in the role of "Erica".

Hm...

I just realized something....I bet Erica, is Eric's favorite part, since his name is Eric, and my name is Erica.

Hm...

.....I will save that little tid bit for when I want a close up....

I should talk about the Film, what it's about. Um....It takes place in Suburbia, U.S.A., and Me and Jace Bartok ("Pony") come to town 'cause Pony's playing a concert in his old home town..."suburbia". Pony was friends with all these losers in Highschool: Giovanni Ribisi "Jeff", Steve Zahn "Buff", Aimee "Sooze", Nicky Katz "Tim", and Dina Spivy "Bee-Bee", and then there's Ajay "Nazeer" who owns the convenient store that they all hang out by. That's like their Thing. They hang out in front of a Convenient Store, 'cause it's...convenient. And um....I play Pony's publicist, Erica. I'm from Bel-Air, Hollywood, and my dad (I've named him "John") is rich, and I shop at all the best stores. There's more to me, Erica, that meets the eye, and everyone thinks Erica's really Great and Happy, but deep down, she's a little girl. She's fragile. You know, like um...a Hooker with a Heart of Gold...that dichotomy...I think those parts are always the best...and So Does the Academy by the way....3 actresses played hookers, and are up for an Academy Award! Obviously the most winning part for an actress to portray!

Um....

Yeah! Am I right or what?!

So....Anyway. Um....Rehearsals start tomorrow, and it's gonna take me hours to fall asleep tonight, 'cause I'm so excited!!!!!!! I will fall asleep to one of the tapes I made for my character. (In a couple of weeks I will fall asleep to the tape I made for the film.) It's all about the process now. About Character.

I ran into Aimee (the lead, "Sooze") in the elevator and we Hugged like sisters. And Giovanni hugged me too. And Nicky and Jace and Ajay also hugged me. Steve and Dina aren't here yet, but when they do get here, I'm sure we'll Hug. I hugged Rick the longest 'cause we've worked together before (Dazed and Confused). It's um....you know.....we're all becoming a family. We will all get so close. Spend Hours in some Bar talking about the film. We will all have personal jokes by next week, and I'm sure someone will be fooling around and in love with someone else by the weekend. Personally I'M in love the WORK. That's just me, though. We'll all have our processes of working. Our means to get into character.

I have to go and figure out what I'm gonna wear for the first day of rehearsal! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!! I can't stand it! I'm so excited!!!!!

"Stay gold", a quote by another character in a film named Pony. Pony Boy from The Outsiders.

(read the rest)



__________________
20 of Parker Posey's 71 films

_________________
Richard Linklater Dazed and Confused (1993)
'Richard Linklater's 1993 masterpiece gave breakout roles to a number of actors, and while Ben Affleck and Matthew McConaughey often get the most "look at them when" attention, Posey's performance as the fantastically bitchy Darla Marks rivals them for scene-stealing indelibility. Introduced verbally abusing incoming freshman girls, Darla throws herself into Lee High School's cruel initiation rites, acting less like an upperclassman and more like a drill sergeant. Yet there's something perversely entertaining in the sadistic glee she takes in pushing people around, every chomp of gum and shout of "freshman bitches" showing someone who's acting not out of insecurity, but of pure unadulterated confidence and desire for queen bee status.'-- Indiewire



Excerpt


Excerpt


Parker Posey - improvised character interview



_______________
Hal Hartley Amateur (1994)
'Isabelle is an ex-nun waiting for her special mission from God. In the meantime, she is making a living writing pornography. She meets Thomas, a sweet, confused amnesiac who cannot remember that he used to be a vicious pornographer, responsible for turning his young wife, Sofia, into the world's most notorious porn queen. Sofia's on the run, convinced she's killed him. Together, Isabelle and Thomas set out to discover his past, a past waiting to catch up with him. This is one of those movies that Parker just makes a slight appearance in, but as usual, it's amusing none-the-less.'-- parkerposey.org



Trailer



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Nora Ephron Mixed Nuts (1994)
'Nora Ephron, once known as an expert script doctor, could have used a little doctoring herself: MIXED NUTS is a relentlessly hectic, poorly structured farce that falls embarrassingly flat. All the comedy here comes at the expense of the characters, reflecting a pronounced cruel streak in Ephron's work for the screen. When this tendency is tempered with a healthy dose of humanism, as in her script for the derivative yet solidly entertaining WHEN HARRY MET SALLY, the problem is less pronounced. But when it involves turning an ex-husband into a philandering ogre, as in HEARTBURN, or making a character unsympathetic just by giving her a laugh like a pig rooting for truffles, as in SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE, it's simply mean. One of the few highlight is a brief scene featuring the then unknown Parker Posey as a wicked out rollerblader'. -- TV Guide



Trailer



________________
Daisy von Scherler Mayer Party Girl (1995)
'While the film is largely beloved as a screwball comedy, in retrospect Posey’s Mary is much more surprising and layered than she even needed to be for the movie to be a success. She doesn’t party as a way of self-medication or clichéd cry for help – she enjoys every moment of her existence, and, even in the end, never shows remorse for who she is, despite discovering her calling as a librarian. While Posey says that she didn’t improvise any of the film and gives full credit to the script, it is easy to see how she was able to carry such a role with such finesse. Posey hasn’t seen the movie since its release, because she doesn’t like to watch herself. Yet the experiences of filming, from “wanting to take [her] eyeballs out and soak them in cold water” from exhaustion to going out dancing with the cast and crew, seem clear as day in her mind. She can remember what it felt like to shoot the climactic Middle Eastern-themed party scene, when she would take 15-minute naps with her co-stars and wear a ten-pound ball of hair on her head, but she can barely recall whether all of this happened before or after she filmed Dazed and Confused.'-- Flavorwire





the entire film



________________
Peter Cohn Drunks (1995)
'For this groundbreaking 1996 production, an Oscar winner, two Oscar nominees and group of highly regarded major film actors gathered in a church basement in New York City to portray a group of alcoholics at an AA meeting. The stars include Richard Lewis (in his first dramatic lead), Faye Dunaway, Dianne Wiest, Parker Posey. "Drunks" also features the late Spalding Gray and Howard Rollins. Rounding out the cast are the young Calista Flockhart and Sam Rockwell. The New York Times called it "superbly realized." The Boston Herald critic praised the film as "a powerhouse of drama, humor and heart."'-- New Day Films



Excerpt



_______________
Noah Baumbach Kicking and Screaming (1995)
'Posey's next major role isn't too far removed from Darla in terms of confidence: Miami is just as certain of herself and where she belongs, and she's quick to show her irritation at her boyfriend Skippy (Jason Wiles) and his friends' pretensions. But Miami is far more vulnerable, sad that she's cheated on Skippy and that he's used her as an excuse to delay moving forward with his life. Her breakup with Skippy, in which years' worth of frustration over his group's self-absorption comes through, is the wakeup call that Skippy won't take seriously. And yet even as she expresses that she can't stand him, she can't help but laugh at his goofiness during the breakup, bringing a mixture of anger and affection that few actresses could accomplish.'-- Indiewire



Trailer


Excerpt



_______________
Gregg Araki The Doom Generation (1995)
'The opening credit refers to this as "A Heterosexual Movie by Gregg Araki," and while fans may recognize the cynicism, this certainly qualifies as the director's most het-friendly movie to date. Set pieces at convenience stores, cheap motels, and in the wide-open American spaces will be familiar to straight audiences of all backgrounds. Cameos by the likes of Perry Farrell, Parker Posey and Heidi Fleiss will delight hipsters, and the soundtrack is straight out of a Lollapalooza show. Rose McGowan plays Amy Blue, whose breasts are showcased in the great Hollywood tradition, while the ass shots of her male co-stars are kept to a minimum. And when Jonathon Schaech, as Xavier Red, starts licking his own semen off his hand after masturbating, well, whoops, I guess he's just kind of weird.'-- deep focus



Trailer


Excerpt



_______________
Julian Schnabel Basquiat (1996)
'Schnabel isn’t the first artist to become a filmmaker: Sergei Eisenstein, Jean Cocteau, Fritz Lang, Andy Warhol and David Lynch all painted or designed, and Schnabel shares with them a talent for creating a rich, defining physical context. Also, by shooting his film in the galleries and locales where Basquiat made his art, and using actors who understand the cool, cutting sophistication of the art world, he brings a ring of authenticity to Basquiat. We see David Bowie playing Basquiat’s mentor Andy Warhol (he actually wears Warhol’s wigs and glasses), Michael Wincott as art critic Rene Ricard, Elina Lowensohn and Parker Posey as gallery owners Annina Nosei and Mary Boone, Dennis Hopper as Swiss art dealer Bruno Bischofberger and Gary Oldman and Courtney Love playing fictitious amalgams of real-life characters.'-- NYSWI



Excerpt


Excerpt



________________
Christopher Guest Waiting For Guffman (1996)
'Director Christopher Guest established a great troupe of regular players for Waiting for Guffman, including Fred Willard, Catherine O'Hara, Eugene Levy and Bob Balaban. Posey became another recurring player in Guest's films, and she made a terrific impression with her first outing here as a spacey Dairy Queen waitress turned spacey community theater actress. Her audition scene is a marvel of awkward comedy as she "seductively" sings "Teacher's Pet" out of tune. Her real showcase, though, is her dazed performance of the goofy love song "Penny for Your Thoughts" with Guest's effeminate Corky St. Clair, with both throwing themselves into their show as much as possible without generating a single spark.'-- Indiewire



Excerpt


Deleted scene



______________
Richard Linklater SubUrbia (1996)
'Bursting at the seems with subversive speech as if it were the evil-twin devil to Dazed and Confused’s angelic-innocence, SubUrbia’s story of jaded suburbanites slumming and of rebelliousness run amok is ultimately only as engaging as the acting is effective. This is to say that when you have the likes of Geovanni Ribisi, Steve Zahn, Nicky Katt, Parker Posey, each of them at youthful, thirsty stages in their blossoming careers, all of them freed up by that ever-so relaxed Linklater non-“in your face” use of the camera — Well I guarantee you, SubUrbia acts as true seamless marriage between that always-hoped-for trifecta of filmmaking aces: Script, performance, and direction. Drifting off topic myself, I have to just add that at this point in her career, not only is Parker Posey consistently fantastic and off-kilter in everything she does, but Posey was also still a few years away from really exploding onto the scene as an indie ‘it’ actress and mainstream character-actor. However, that was indeed “then” and now when I think of Parker Posey, the last thing I can recall is Scream 3— No wait, Superman Returns… anyway you get what I’m alluding to, but I digress — Speaking of character-actors, Ribisi and Zahn help SubUrbia soar to disenchanted heights as they effortlessly emote and personify the epitome of slacker embodiment.'-- Pretty Clever Films



the entire film



_______________
Mark Waters The House of Yes (1997)
'At the 1997 Cannes Film Festival, Harvey Weinstein, at the time still the boss of Miramax, was so smitten with this black comedy about a disturbed young woman (Parker Posey) who thinks she's Jackie Kennedy that he paid $2 million for the distribution rights. Posey (who was also in town supporting Clockwatchers) won special recognition for her performance. Audiences, however, responded to House of Yes with a resounding NO. The movie grossed $617,403 in theaters.'-- Entertainment Weekly



Excerpt



________________
Jill Sprecher Clockwatchers (1997)
'Posey co-starred in yet another ensemble comedy with this Office Space precursor tracking four office temps (Posey, Toni Collette, Lisa Kudrow, Alanna Ubach) as they pass the time in a deadening job. As the ringleader of the temps, Posey swings from deadpan contempt to outright fury and pain when she's wrongfully terminated. "How can you fire me? You don't even know my name!" Her co-stars are all solid, but Posey becomes the de facto voice of anyone who's ever had to deal with a corporate drudgery that doesn't even bother to welcome them into their stifling environment.'-- Indiewire



Trailer 1


Trailer 2



________________
Hal Hartley Henry Fool (1997)
'Posey had worked with Hal Hartley before in a smaller capacity in Amateur and Flirt, but she created one of her most indelible characters in 1997 with Hartley's Henry Fool. Playing the nymphomaniac sister of unassuming Simon Grim (James Urbaniak) and lover to Thomas Jay Ryan's gregarious titular hero, Posey's deadpan charm fitting in perfectly with Hartley's deliberately mannered dialogue. Posey returned to the character in the sequel Fay Grim, an infinitely less amusing sequel which nonetheless gave Posey a rare lead role and a chance to play Fay both at her most exasperated and her most grounded. Posey appears as Fay Grim again in the third film in the series, Ned Rifle.'-- Indiewire



Excerpt



_______________
Nora Ephron You've Got Mail (1998)
'Memorable lines: “If I ever get out of here, I’m having my eyes lasered.” “I use a wonderful over-the-counter drug, Ultradorm. Don’t take the whole thing, just half, and you will wake up without even the tiniest hangover.” What made the role great: Patricia is completely clueless, self-centered, and oddly ruthless. She wears all black, and tends to say exactly the wrong thing at the worst time. It’s a type of New Yorker only Parker could play.'-- buzzed



Excerpt



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Wes Craven Scream 3 (2000)
'“You! Like I’m ever going to win an award playing you,” Jennifer Jolie yells at Gale Weathers in the third and most self-referential (and laughable) edition of the “Scream” series. Jolie (played by Parker Posey) is an actor playing Weathers (played by Courteney Cox) in “Stab 3,” the movie within a movie, which serves as the setting for the murders of Scream 3, the series’ then-final chapter. It is meta. With streaky blond highlights, Posey looks like a trashy version of Cox’s streaky red days in the first Scream. The hair is almost as loud as Posey, who speaks with a shrill voice and manic energy. As an actor haunted by a masked murderer, Jolie initially lets terror consume her in the funniest of ways. “Where! Nancy Drew wants to know where,” she screams when she gets one too many questions from her onscreen counterpart about a previous murder. With her hair twisted up into two Björk-like balls and a cigarette shaking between her fingers, she’s as funny as she is frightened.'-- backstage.com



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Christopher Guest Best in Show (2000)
'We worked with real dog show competitors. So they were around on set when we were filming. So the people in the background that you see are real dog show people. So we would do a take and then Chris [Guest] would say, do you want a recap of how to brush the dog. I remember he brought over a professional groomer. She came over right before a take and she criticized our dog. She said, the coat’s all wrong, this dog would never compete. The color’s all wrong. And we’re like, we’re about to shoot. I love a backstage look at any kind of show. So this kind of thing is heaven for me. I have a Bichon Poodle Maltese.'-- Parker Posey



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Christopher Guest A Mighty Wind (2003)
'The occasion for the reunion in A Mighty Wind is a memorial tribute to folk impresario Irving Steinbloom, arranged by his pathologically neat son Jonathan (Bob Balaban). As the Folksmen, a middling group with one minor sixties hit, Michael McKean, Guest, and Harry Shearer are the image of superannuated hippiedom: With his head shaved and a thick beard outlining his jaw, Shearer looks like a fey Quaker; Guest, also bald down the middle, has a dome that’s tufted on both sides and a high, singsong quaver in his voice that works especially well for ballads about the Spanish Civil War. At the opposite end of the spectrum from the Folksmen are the New Main Street Singers—a screechingly cheery and color-coordinated spinoff of the original Main Street Singers—featuring John Michael Higgins, Jane Lynch, and Parker Posey. They’re like every group you’ve ever avoided while visiting a large amusement park. Of course, in the great all-American tradition, their toothpaste-commercial uplift camouflages weirdness: For starters, Lynch’s character is proud of her past as a porno queen and cultivates her own religion based on the “vibratory power of color.”'-- New York Magazine



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David S. Goyer Blade: Trinity (2004)
'It’s a bit surprising to see you playing a villain in an action flick. I know, right? PP: I almost didn’t go in for the audition. I thought, They’ll want a model, someone with a rack. So what persuaded you to do it? PP: Well, I really liked them. And I felt comfortable talking about my ideas for the character, though a lot of them weren’t executed in the movie. For example? PP: Like, this character’s been alive for 400 years, right? So how would she dress? I mean, isn’t she bored? So I said, “Can we have her in a geisha outfit? A nun outfit? Can she dress like a cavewoman?” In the film, you seem to be channeling a couple of people. Were you mimicking any one in particular? PP: Totally. There’s Bette Davis. Some Nosferatu. I rented all those old F. W. Murnau films, and old vampire movies like The Vampire Lovers. I really liked playing a vampire. Their hunger is insatiable. Even when they eat someone, it’s never enough. They’re like addicts. So that was fun.'-- New York Magazine



Montage of Posey's scenes



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Bryan Singer Superman Returns (2006)
'I was doing this play. I was doing Hurley Burley for six months, you get a call like "They're interested in you for Superman!" Well, okay... let 'em figure it out. And maybe I'll get cast, you know, we'll see. And um, can I read the script? "No." Okay, well... is it good? I didn't see X-Men. I usually don't see these kinds of movies. But gosh, I hope it's good, you know -- it's Superman. I got the part and I said, "Am I gonna be able to read it?" you know, to do it? I Googled "Kitty and Superman" and there was a Kitty somewhere in the Superman world. She extracted, like, green energy from plants and solar energy from the sun and she would use this power in... not a good way. And Superman helped her kind of use her powers for good at one point. It was like... just like Google, you know? Very abstract. Like wow, maybe I'll get to have super powers. (laughter) I'll have Chris Lee calling me and I'll be like "Does she extract energy from the sun?!" (laughter). So they literally fly someone from Australia to deliver the script. And I read it at Cafe Mogador in the East Village in New York and yeah, that was like a movie in and of itself. It had this energy, just this (makes a whooshing noise). Already the world was being created. It's a very... big, majestic movie. And I read it and I was like, "Thank god." I thought it was really, really good. She was written a little more villainous, like a conscious villain, a baddie, like a bad girl? But I got away with not doing that.'-- Parker Posey



Parker Posey talks about 'Superman Returns'



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Hal Hartley Fay Grim (2006)
'Hal Hartley's Fay Grim stars Parker Posey and Jeff Goldblum in a search for a mysterious terrorist named Henry Fool. This man, we learn, has been involved in intrigues involving Chile, Iraq, Israel, France, Germany, Russia, England, China and the Vatican (where the pope "threw a chair at him"). All in the last seven years. We feel deliberately distanced from the film. It is not so much an exercise in style as an exercise in search of a style. The story doesn't involve us because we can't follow it, and we doubt if the characters can, either. But am I criticizing Hartley, a leading indie filmmaker, for not making a more conventional thriller, with more chases and action scenes? Not at all. I am criticizing him for failing to figure out what he wanted to do instead, and delivering a film that is tortured in its attempt at cleverness, and plays endlessly. Posey and Goldblum labor at their characters, and are often fun to watch. But in the absence of a screenplay that engages them, they have to fall back on their familiar personalities and quirks. They bring more to the movie than it brings to them.'-- Roger Ebert



Trailer




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p.s. Hey. ** Keaton, Hi. Yeah, but painting is the trendy art-making practice du jour among younger artists, and it's the go-to acquisition among art collectors du jour, and critics are all over it, and painting is everywhere, so it's only dead in the heads of people who don't like it or who think it should do what it used to do, I guess. Hockney's still around, it seems. Ah, that's why I don't know the Chef salad: lunch meats. Bon Monday. ** David Ehrenstein, Excellent piece on Sontag. I read it over the weekend. Kudos! Everyone, Mr. Ehrenstein has written an excellent piece on Susan Sontag, and you are strongly encouraged to give it a considerable portion of your brain and day. 'Susan Slept Here'. ** Will C., Crazy is the adjective I would have chosen, and, well, just did choose, following your lead. I'm glad I've been cool. Thank you. And I'm glad to hear that staying in touch is a go. Take care. ** Cobaltfram, Hi, John. The ribs are ever more non-annoying. No, you didn't mention the fancy cheese job. Obviously, I heartily approve. You could definitely say I'm a big cheese eater, yes. Cool beans, man. ** James, Hi, J. I have to move out early next year, the exact timing is yet to be determined. I'll start hunting in a week or two. They extended my stay for so long against the rules, so I can't complain fairly. That's funny, because the circuit breaker here at the Recollets is a nearly constant issue. I've learned what not to do, but every time a new person checks in, which is constantly, they blithely turn too many things on at once, and the electricity in the building goes out, and since the Recollets doesn't warn people or tell them how to turn the electricity back on, and since I'm kind of the only resident who knows, I'm the one who has to head down into the building's nether reaches and flip the switch every time anyone knocks the power out, which is usually at least twice a day. So, yeah, hugs. ** Tosh Berman, Hey, buddy! ** Etc etc etc, Hi, C! I hope the outskirts were cozy. Wish I could hang out there myself sometimes, ha ha. It is an awfully busy time, but everything is going pretty well so far. I love that 'Fitzcarraldo' remake idea, obviously. No, I haven't had the chance to check out your stuff, I'm sorry. There's just too much going join right now. Keep asking/ reminding me, but not too, too often, I guess. It'll be a little while. The next few weeks are going to be busy bordering on insane. Thanks for the recommend, man! ** Steevee, Hi. Glad you're feeling at least a little better. I did see the Cahiers du Cinema list. Yeah, the Dumont is even ranked over the Godard, which is high praise indeed. Really need to see that. CdC also picked Gisele's video for the Sunn0)))/Scott Walker track 'Brando' as one of the 10 best videos or short films or something of the year too! I am curious to see that Rivers/Russell film. I like the technique in theory, obviously, but, hm, ... yeah, I'll try it at some point. Thanks a lot for the report. ** Kier, Hi, K! Welcome back! A pink rose! As a prize for something? Sweet. Yes, definitely take a photo of the poster. That's awesome! Wow, your weekend was a lot, a lot of great. Those stinky waffles were spooky. I love waffles, so imagining them with a sulfur taste is nightmarish. Your dad likes Sunn0)))? Wow, I guess there must be other dads who do, but what a strange and wondrous idea. 'Dream Warriors' is definitely one of the very best ones. Vying for best. What's that one where time becomes a loop for a while? I have a possibly strange fondness for that one. My weekend wasn't so eventful, mostly because, starting today, Zac and I are going to need to do daily marathons of film editing if we're to hope to try to get the film done by the deadline that our producers have imposed upon us. So, I worked on fiction, did blog posts, wandered around a bit, phoned, etc. Zac and I met with Christophe Honore, who's one of the film's producers, on Sunday for a pep talk and advice session, and that was good and helpful. Yeah, I was home working in a blur. Tonight, after film editing, Zac and I will meet Elias, gulp, and see Iceage play, which should be cool. News tomorrow. How was Monday up there where you are? ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Ben. Hope Thursday comes soonest, and the Art101 ticking is the opposite of a bomb's, obviously. Oh, cool, about that live Suicide. That was great period for them. I'll go try to hear that. ** Thomas Moronic, Hi, T. I was jut trying to imagine if I could write a novel for which 'Volcanic Prolapse' would form an appropriate title, and I realize that I could, easily even, but that nobody would publish it. Mum's my word on the eBook/novel project for now, but hopefully it'll be cemented enough to talk about soon. ** Sypha, Hey, James! Thank you so much again! It was greatness! Cool, glad the shift wasn't too hectic and taxing. Ha ha, I would have been pretty surprised if you had made it all the way through 'Hogg', for the reasons you state. ** Misanthrope, Hi, G. I seem to have missed Positbreakup's comment. It's was deleted by the time I looked in here. Oh, man, that's very rough about your aunt. Holy crap. That's really sad and grim. I'm so very sorry. And her son, ugh, yeah. What a mess. Oh, God, yeah, just really sorry, George. I'm looking forward to the insane editing/work stint. Maybe I'll speak differently once we start today, but I love editing, and, yeah, I think it'll be intense but never not fun. We'll see. Wow, that was fast re: the painting job. Pix? ** Hyemin kim, Hi. So annoying when Blogger does that. Google is obviously too lazy, and Blogger generates too little cash, for them to bother to fix the glitch. I can't think of any food that wouldn't be improved by sesame, it's true. No Xmas plans as of yet. I have to give a public talk on the 23rd. It'll probably be very quiet since almost everyone I know will be away with their families. I've never been religious for a minute, but I love Xmas too. It's weird, and yet it makes total sense somehow. ** Torn porter, Hi, T! Up? Just lots of work and preparing for even more work with a certain amount of not inconsiderable fun mixed in on occasion. Nice that you're performing! Where, like in clubs, theaters, galleries, ... ? Yay, about the screening of your rough cut! That's exciting! We hope to be at that stage by early next year. Hope being the operative word. Much love back! ** Jebus, Hi, man! Yeah, weird that a great artist's son ends up being great too. That doesn't happen so often, I don't think. When I checked the comments early on this morning with my coffee, I listened to some of the 'Dust' tracks, and they're fantastic! I'm going to put one of them in the Gig post that I'm organizing for early next week. Kudos! I'm going to listen to the whole sequence as soon as I get the slightest chance. Everyone, as some of you may know from past experiences here or from your own autonomous experiences, Jebus has a superb music/sound project called New White Light, and he/it has just put out a new album/sequence of great tracks known collectively as 'Dust' that I super-highly recommend to you. You can hear and download all of them on bandcamp here, or you can test a few on youtube by clicking this, listening, and checking for the other tracks in the right hand margin. Go! Really great, J! Thank you so much for the share! ** Okay. I sort of can't imagine anyone who doesn't love Parker Posey or who wouldn't love her once he/she got any experience with her. She gets her own Day today. Enjoy. See you tomorrow.

Spotlight on ... Ishmael Reed Mumbo Jumbo (1972)

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'In his 1972 novel Mumbo Jumbo, Ishmael Reed writes the story of an 'epidemic' of black culture—song, dance, slang and other elements—spreading into mainstream America. He calls his plague 'Jes Grew' and it is spread by 'Jes Grew Carriers' (or J.G.C.s) who are responsible for outbreaks throughout the US, and in some locations overseas.

'Reed sets most of his story in New York during the Jazz Age. An earlier outbreak of 'Jes Grew'—associated with the rise of ragtime in the 1890s—had been effectively contained. But now a new, stronger bug is sweeping northward from New Orleans, and threatens to subdue most of the population. There are "18,000 cases in Arkansas, 60,000 in Tennessee, 98,000 in Mississippi and cases showing up even in Wyoming." Workers are dancing the Turkey Trot during their lunch break, and singing in the streets. The authorities are alarmed. People want to catch this new disease. Those who are still healthy gather around those already bitten by the bug, and chant "give me fever, give me fever."

'But if everyone wants to jump on the bandwagon of the new black plague, who is left to stop it. Here Reed outdoes himself, offering the grandest of conspiracy theories. The Knights Templar, apparently disbanded in the year 1312, are actually still hanging around, and waiting for a chance to stop the Jes Grew epidemic. But they need to get in line. The Teutonic Knights, founded in the twelfth century, also want to block the disease. And some Masons, a former cop, yellow journalists, Wall Street, politicians the folks at the Plutocrat Club, and a mysterious group known as the Wallflower Order, dedicated to implementing the world- view of an even bigger conspiracy group, known as the Atonists, all have skin in the game (literally and metaphorically).

'Three years after Reed published Mumbo Jumbo, E.L. Doctorow released his novel Ragtime to great acclaim, with particular praise lavished on that book’s mixture of fictional characters and real personages from early 20th century America. But Reed set the tone for this mashup up truth and fiction in his colorful predecessor, and even anticipated Doctorow's reliance on black music as an emblem for the flux and flow of the era.

'If anything, Reed is more ambitious. He even includes footnotes and a lengthy bibliography at the end of his novel—with citations of everyone from Edward Gibbon to Madame Blavatsky. Photos and artwork are also inserted into the text, which often seems intent on breaking free of the constraints of the novel, and turning into a radical reinterpretation of the last several thousand years of human society.

'Reed has delivered a classic work in the literature of paranoia. He joins an illustrious company, offering us a book that can stand alongside—at least in terms of the breadth of its conspiracy theories—Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49, Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum, Robert Heinlein’s The Puppet Masters, Robert Anton Wilson's The Illuminatus Trilogy, Kurt Vonnegut’s The Sirens of Titan and other powerful literary evocations of our zeal to find hidden enemies everywhere we look. Writers nowadays may do some things better than their predecessors, but the generation that lived through McCarthyism, the Cold War, Alger Hiss and Kim Philby had a much better skill at capturing the exotic flavor of the paranoid mindset in narrative form.'-- Ted Gloria



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Facsimile pages









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Further

Ishmael Reed Website
'Mumbo Jumbo' @ Wikipedia
'Ishmael Reed and the Psychic Epidemic'
'Mumbo Umbo: Wormholes through History'
Ishmael Reed @ Biblio
Ishmael Reed's KONCH MAGAZINE
'Ishmael Reed on the Life and Death of Amiri Baraka'
Ishmael Reed @ goodreads
'Fade to White', an Op Ed by Ishmael Reed @ NYT
'Bad Apples in Ferguson' by Ishmael Reed
'All the Demons Of American Racism Are Rising From the Sewer'
Ishmael Reed on ‘Juice!’
'Self-reflexivity and Historical Revisionism in Ishmael Reed's Neo-hoodoo Aesthetics'
'The Black Pathology Biz' by Ishmael Reed
'ISHMAEL REED: JABS, LOW BLOWS, AND KNOCKOUT PUNCHES'
'Mumbo Jumbo' reviewed @ Autodidact Project
Ishmael Reed's Top Ten Books List
'A Progressive Rebuttal to Ishmael Reed'
'Ishmael Reed on the Language of Huck Finn'
'Ishmael Reed's Mumbo Jumbo: Afrocentricism, Philosophy, and Haiti'
'Ishmael Reed: The Idol Smasher'
Buy 'Mumbo Jumbo'



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Extras


Meet Ishmael Reed


To Become A Writer, Ishmael Reed


Huey P. Newton, Ishmael Reed & Jawanza Kunjufu On Racism Again Black Men (1988)


Ishmael Reed on Bookworm


Ishmael Reed at Litquake 2007



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Interview




Let’s talk about writing. You’ve said before, "Writing is Fighting." As you know, Miles Davis compared his musical exercise to the discipline of boxing. In fact, he said he respects good boxers so much, because they require and possess an intelligence; that, there’s a "higher sense of theory" going on in their heads. He compared it to his solitary exercise of performing.

ISHMAEL REED: Miles was also a boxer.

Right. So, we have this whole concept of boxing, writing, fighting. Why this philosophy of "boxing" as writing?

IR: I think I have a pugnacious style. My style is not pretty. I don’t use words like "amber" or "opaque." (Laughs.)

Or Chrysanthemums? (Laughs.)

IR: (Laughs.) Yeah, yeah. My stuff is direct. Critics have compared my writing style with boxing all the way back to 1978 when my first book of essays appeared: it was compared to Muhammad Ali’s style. Others have compared my style to that of Roy Jones Jr. and Mike Tyson.

As a writer, you explore all kinds of different emotions. My latest poem is about a tree in my backyard, which is from the Tropics. I’m trying to explain how it got there. I had a meditative poem about watching out over the Golden Gate Bridge from a mountain.

It was published in The New Yorker. I think when I write essays I’m out to do on the page what we can’t do in the media. We don’t have billions of dollars that are available to these people who do what amounts to a propaganda attack on us. We’re being out propagandized. When I look at the newspapers, I’m furious. Because I can see where the interpretation of whom we are and how people from the outside define us.

My friend Cecil Brown is very upset because the SF Chronicle is doing a Black History Month series and it’s all White male writers! I mean they assign Black History Month to all White writers with all these African American writers in the Bay Area and in California? I mean I’m here and I’ve written for them. And of course, they wrote about the kind of Black image that appeals to them: Athletes and Entertainers. Not a single scientist, or inventor. I was down at Lockheed Martin, addressing the Black employees: Engineers and Scientists last week. I told them that a lot of the space equipment used by NASA was invented by Black scientists, yet when Mailer wrote that ignorant book about the moonshot, Fire On The Moon, he said that Blacks were jealous of this White achievement.The formula for sending a shuttle into space and bringing it back was devised by a Black woman scientist.

Cecil also said he was pleased that there was a Hollywood writer’s strike so all these demeaning images of blacks would at least disappear for a while, for at least 3 weeks. Because, I mean the Writer’s Guild is only like 2% African American. I think there’s probably, what, no Pakistani American writers?

I think there is 1.

IR: Well, probably, he’s the one saying, "We all ought to assimilate."

Or, he might try to hide it.

IR: Yeah, hides it. Right. So, that’s all we have. All we have is writing. Sometimes it’s very effective. I mean I’m organizing my neighborhood block with emails, because we have criminal activity on our block. Instead of the old days, where we had to confront these people, now we can do it through emails and cyberspace.

I did a book called Another Day at the Front which was my first critical book about the media, and I got on Nightline. I was able to challenge some of these assumptions of African Americans and their culture.

Is writing a solitary experience? Is it shadowboxing in a sense?

IR: Not for me. I have T.V. on all the time when I’m writing. I have music on. I’m engaged with the world. If the phone rings, I answer it. I’m not the kind of writer who sits around 8 hours a day writing. I’ll write in the morning, and sometimes I’ll get up 4 in the morning sometimes and do this Anthology I’m working on. (PowWow, releasing this summer by De Capo Press). I’m learning a lot. I wasn’t really a short story person, but now I’m reading about 140 short stories and there are a lot of good ones out there. I’m reading stories from different groups– like from the 19th century immigrant perspective which is really overlooked. In this country, it’s not good to be "ethnic." Although, T.S. Eliot said, "Not all ethnic writers are great, but all great writers are ethnic." I mean Eliot was the head of the modernist movement!

I don’t know about this solitary stuff. I mean I do plays and they are collaborative. My last play was called "angry" by the New York Times. Even though every line could be footnoted. I got a great review in the Backstage which is a theatre trade magazine, but the Times guy said I was "angry" about a lot of things. But, I mean, what was I angry about? I took on 2 issues. One was the pharmaceutical industry using African Americans as guinea pigs and colluding with psychiatrists, who get $40,000 kickbacks, and how they use these drugs in Africa for testing. They are fully aware of the bad side effects when they produce these drugs. The other issue is how think-thanks front these people like McWhorter to push this line that "all of African American’s problems are self inflicted."

This is what we’re up against. See, our intellectuals don’t know what we’re up against. They think this is all about getting on the Bill Maher show. There is an orchestrated campaign that is tied to the Eugenics campaign. I just had a dialogue with John Rockwell from the New York Times, because we’re in the same anthology together. I said, "Look, the Eugenics movement came out of the United States.""Where? Where? Where?" he said. So, I had to send him a book on this.

Let’s talk about Mumbo Jumbo your most famous novel. Many say this novel was about the forces of "rationalism and militarism" versus the forces of "the magical and the spontaneous." Today, we find extremist groups rooting themselves in piety, religion, spirituality and faith. In the 1972 version of the novel, Abdul Hamid, a Black Muslim fundamentalist, burns the "Book" which contains the "key" to these ancient traditions of magic, dance, and creativity. If Mumbo Jumbo took place in the 21st century, who would burn the "Book"?

IR: I think there are fundamentalists all over the world. I think all religions have fundamentalists who have different interpretations of scriptures that are very vague. These books are written in metaphor, they are written with symbolism. A lot of it is outdated and tied to the times in which the text was written. So, you can do anything you want to with religion. Unfortunately, in the world today, we have dogmatic people entering into politics. I don’t think the two mix. But, we always believed in separation of church and state. But, I predicted there would be a theocracy in the 80’s in my book The Terrible Twos, where I had a preacher running the White House in 1982.

You see, I think when you’re an independent intellectual you’re going to get it from all sides. I get it from the Left, the Right, the Middle. When I proposed that people said it was silly, but now we have Huckabee and Bush, and others. I mean they’re all still players. But, when I said it, they thought it was silly.



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Book

Ishmael Reed Mumbo Jumbo
Scribner

'Mumbo Jumbo is Ishmael Reed's brilliantly satiric deconstruction of Western civilization, a racy and uproarious commentary on our society. In it, Reed, one of our preeminent African-American authors, mixes portraits of historical figures and fictional characters with sound bites on subjects ranging from ragtime to Greek philosophy. Cited by literary critic Harold Bloom as one of the five hundred most significant books in the Western canon, Mumbo Jumbo is a trenchant and often biting look at black-white relations throughout history, from a keen observer of our culture.'-- Scribner


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p.s. Hey. ** Scunnard, Hi, J. It happies me up to make you happy, naturally. So, ... even steven. You good? What's your latest? ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. Agree with you across the board about Ms. Posey. It is weird that Allen took so long with her, it's true. I've heard tell of Eric Zemmour, and I've seen his face around, but I didn't know squat about him until you linked me to that article, and I still don't, but only because I haven't read it yet, but I will read/know shortly. Thank you! ** James, Hi, James. I believe that grille gif is from 'Dazed & Confused', but don't quote me on that. I've forgotten already and am guessing based on a half-memory. Oh, like I said, they've let me live here 7 years when the rule is that you only live her 2 years, so I think the eviction is only fair, as sad and as much of a drag as it is. Thanks, though. ** Keaton, Hi. Oh, uh, lucky you, I think? Ah, you're a classicist or something about painting. That's hardcore. Yeah, I'm not. I like my painting, when I like painting, the way I like my fiction, which is forever searching for something impossible or something. Well, you're going to get as skinny as a rail when you're here. That seems contextually sound. ** Etc etc etc, Hey. Yeah, I met and talked with Parker Posey for a while once because she was in the dreadful film adaptation of my novel 'Frisk', and she was exactly like she is in the movies. I felt more like her co-star for an hour than a dude at her table. I've never seen 'Louie', strangely. I pretty much never watch TV, so I've missed almost everything on TV from the last five years or so. Interesting about your stand-up comedy exploration. Stand-up comedy is really hard for me. I can't take it. The form is too something-or-other for me, and I always wish I could be calm enough to study it, but I get irritated and flee the minute I see it. Strange. Seems fruitful, though. ** Kier, Hi, KierKier! Doesn't have the same ring. Yeah, she rules. Oh, I had some of those waffles when I was there. They're so cool: the interlocking hearts thing is a lot more charming than it seems like it should be. American waffles are kind of middle-ground. I like them, of course, but they don't really have any quality of note. They're just kind of a more conservative version of other countries' waffles. Oh, wow, the ram was only there to make baby sheep? Is that what you mean? That's kind of cool. I love Lukas Haas, as I'm sure you know. His speech at the end 'Mars Attacks' is one of my favorite cinema things ever. I did a long interview with him when he was making 'Johns' for Spin Magazine, but they never ran it. I've been wanting to get it transcribed forever, but it's so much work, and it's in LA. He was a totally, totally lovely guy. He was supposed to star in John Waters's 'Pecker', but he had health issues at the time and had to pull out. Amazing ears, yes! My day ... first Zac and I worked on editing the film. We're starting by putting together a rough cut of the third scene -- the one with fake snow and krampuses -- and we got a ways into that, and we'll continue pretty much as soon as I launch this post. That went well. Then we met up with Elias and hung out with him for a couple of hours before the Iceage gig. I had been really nervous to meet him, but he's such a totally great, sweet, warm, friendly, super smart guy, and it was very fun. He read us the beginning of a short story he's writing, and it was really good. Anyway, yeah, we liked him a whole lot, and I can definitely see us all being friends now, which would be really nice. Iceage were great, of course. Elias had a sore throat, but he didn't hold back. They played most of the new album and only a couple of the earlier songs, 'Morals' and one other I forget. Then after we hung out a little with Elias and Jacob, the guitarist, who was also super nice, after the gig. So it was great day and night. Your turn. Tuesday: what happened? ** Unknown, Hi, Unknown! That was quite a cool and action-packed and sparkly PP poem-shaped comment, and thanks a bunch. ** Steevee, Hi. Elias and Iceage were both really great. Thanks. I'm sure that prioritizing your health over 'Interstellar' was a very good call. I only like 'Memento'. I wasn't even all that impressed with 'The Prestige', although, yeah, I can that one being in the positive category.  **   _Black_Acrylic, I was going to say that 6 CDs sounded like a lot of CDs for that period, but cool. I saw that Duncan Campbell won, and I know I know his stuff, but I can't remember it this morning. Google. ** Torn porter, Howdy. Work I'm getting done or hoping/trying to get done: film editing, my new novel, my other eBook novel, co-writing (with Zac) screenplay for the first feature film Gisele is going to direct, and this and that. Good luck on Saturday. Dickie Beau ... no, I don't think I know him or her, unless I'm spacing. Who is he/she? ** Hyemin kim, Hi. Here's the post you're looking for. On the 23rd, I'm talking about the artist Paul McCarthy in conjunction with a big show he has here, and also talking about the LA art scene from whence Paul and I both came. ** Chilly Jay Chill, Hi, Jeff. Glad your cold is leaving you. I saw 'Nightcrawler'. Mm, I was kind of charmed by it at first, but when its obvious, poorly rendered 'message' started coming into the equation, I started disliking it. I don't like Jake Glyllenhaal, and I never have, but I think he maxed out the thing about him that's interesting in a way that was as impressive as I can possibly imagine he could ever be again. So, yeah, shrug. Thanks about meeting our deadlines. Too early to tell, but we're giving them a shot. Yury's fashion line is going okay, I think. There's yet another delay, I think because he needs to register the brand/company, and that's tricky, apparently, so he's trying to sort that out right now. But I think it's going well enough. ** Sypha, Hi, James. I'm sorry to hear about the post-Thanksgiving health lessening. I hope that gets righted right away, obviously. Curious how 'Les Miserables' sits with you because I am absolutely positive that's a book I will never read in my lifetime. ** Misanthrope, Hi. In writing fiction, editing is definitely my favorite part by far, and, yeah, if I could start with editing instead of writing a draft, I would pay whoever gave me that power a bunch of money. So far the film editing is a lot of fun, but we'll see once we've been doing it for a month or more straight. Really grim about your aunt. Oh, god, that's hell if she knows, and, ugh, she probably does in some way, no? Horror. Shit, about your nephew's school thing. I don't know. Obviously, he needs to go to school, period. Ugh. I love photos of people acting funny and looking like shit. When I'm not amongst them. ** Jebus, Yeah, a pleasure. I really, really like the 'Dust' tracks a lot! So true about Gluth's novel, yeah. Guy's a wizard. You take care too, and have a really swell day. ** Right. 'Mumbo Jumbo' is such an amazing novel. Ishmael Reed's first few novels in general are so great, and they're very strangely overlooked and underrated, I have no idea why. Anyway, if you don't know 'Mumbo Jumbo' already, I hope you'll look into it today, and I will see you tomorrow.

Jesus Christ Day

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*

p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. I met Ishmael Reed once when I had him read at Beyond Baroque back when I was curating the events there. He was pretty unfriendly and read listlessly and obviously didn't want to be there, so it was disappointing, but it was cool to meet him anyway. I'll check out that book. Quite a title, indeed. I don't know 'Hallelujah the Hills', or I mean I only know it by name. Looking forward to the read. Everyone, if you go here, you'll get to read Mr. Ehrenstein's thoughts on the 1963 film 'Hallelujah the Hills', which, to quote Mr. E quoting Ed Halter in the Village Voice, is 'a be-bopped beatnik riff on Mack Sennett madness, updated for the anything-goes youth counterculture, Adolfas Mekas’s 1963 Hallelujah the Hills provided a homegrown riposte to nouvelle vague zaniness, and became one of the more lighthearted cornerstones of the New American Cinema.' Sounds good, right? ** Tosh Berman, Hi, Tosh. Oh, it's a great novel, and I'm very happy to be its introducer. I also highly recommend my favorite novel of his, 'The Freelance Pallbearer'. Interesting about your soundtracking your writing. I've only done that as a deliberate experiment to alter my writing in reaction to some particular piece or set of music's qualities a few times. I can zone out pretty well, but generally I seem to like to have close to nothingness around me. ** Kier, Oh, never. I'll never call you that. That nickname doesn't suit you at all. Lukas Haas collages! Gimme! Elias has some kind of accent, and I guess it must be Danish, but it's not that strong or anything. Krampus gift cards! LH pocket shrine! Wow, your yesterday bore a ton of exciting things and prospects. Mine was entirely involved in the film editing, as expected. As will be today. Uh, Zac and I laid out a very, very rough edit of the whole 3rd scene, and today we're going to make it a lot less rough, hopefully. It's 25 minutes long at the moment, and it needs to be shorter, maybe a lot shorter, if we can find enough stuff to cut out without fucking the scene up. We've decided the scene needs music, and we have someone in mind to maybe do the music, if he's interested, so we're going to try to get the scene in decent enough shape to show him by later today or by tomorrow and see if he'll be game to score it. Then we'll start the refining and close-editing and polishing before we move on to the next scene we're going edit, which I think will be the 1st scene. Anyway, it was a good day, long but it was a lot of fun. After that I just came home, ate, and gradually crashed. Did your Wednesday bear fruit? Oh, weird, I just yesterday saw a mention of that Johnny Gosch movie for the first time. Strange. And the person who mentioned it, probably on FB, said it very good even. Huh. ** Steevee, Hi. Yeah, I like 'The Terrible Twos' and ' ... Threes', but they don't have the genius zaniness and relentless invention that the early novels do. Certainly a very interesting writer and figure at most times. I don't like his poetry very much, but, otherwise, I think he's always very worth reading. ** Sypha, Hi. Oh, what is that makes those truly long books that you say you need to read need to be read? I mean as opposed to other truly long books you haven't read and don't feel you need to read? If that makes sense. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Ben. Wow, I haven't read Kristeva in ages for no good reason. That's cool. So I should check it out, yes? ** Hyemin kim, Hi. Yeah I hate talking in public, but it should be interesting. I'm being interviewed 'on stage', which is a lot easier than just trying to talk at length without prompts. Ooh, that post with Mr. Kitchell sounds very exciting! My week is kind of insanely hectic too, so I totally understand. Very best of luck with yours! ** Keaton, A tail? Intriguing. Complicated? Oh, yeah, I just blabbed that classicist thing off the top my head without giving it proper thought pre-launch. A return to Kandinsky would be a big surprise. Surprises are good, duh. Well, you can get pretty much every single thing you can eat in the US in Paris without too much trouble, so you should be fine, man. And there's always the Hard Rock Cafe. Excellent nachos, as you know I think. ** Misanthrope, Hi, G. Mustaches, yikes. Having lived through the disco/clone era, I have a problem with them. Like I can't see someone with a mustache without thinking, 'That guy thinks there's something wrong with him and thinks a mustache fixes what's wrong with him.' I don't think that's the reaction that guys with mustaches want, but fuck if I know what they want me to think. I never had one, obviously. I had kind of a beard, a very scraggly one, for a while in my late hippie phase, but not for long. You are correct in your analysis of what is making the editing fun. Plus, I think the film is going to be really good, and it's cool to see that happening bit by bit and everything. ** GucciCODYprada, Cody! I've been thinking about you a ton and wondering how you are. Back in India, hot India. It's freezing cold here finally. Chef! Western food meaning, like, hamburgers and pasta and burritos and stuff? I'm reading your book, and I'm loving it. It's going slow 'cos Zac and I are in the middle of a marathon editing session on our film due to the fact that it has to be finished soon -- it's always something, I know -- but I'm making fairly good progress and digging the hell out of it, man! Oh, yeah, the Andy Stott album is awesome. I like it a lot. Lots of love back to you, and I'm so happy to see you! ** Okay. Something got into me, and I thought ye olde Christ should have a berth here, and that thing up there was the only way I could think to represent him according to my own lack of belief in his existence and lack of interest in his effect. Check it out! See you tomorrow.

4 books I read recently & loved: Mike Young Sprezzatura, Dorothea Lasky Rome, Mallory Whitten Collected Poems & Stories, Joyelle McSweeney DEAD YOUTH, OR, THE LEAKS

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'True to its title, the playful craft of Mike Young’s poetry does execute a kind of trick: progressing from levity to solemnity and back, creating distance only to later extinguish it. Its poems conduct a series of experiments; they bring us closer to what we love and the absence we feel when we cannot possess it.

'Sprezzatura has a simultaneous quality to its lyricism: while some poems end by beginning a new thought, question, or conversation at the last minute, others remind us how panoramic and overlapping our experiences are simply by naming one. (“The page with the lyrics you searched for/starts to play a different song.” (“Turn Right at The Bridge You Make By Lying There” pp. 11)) ...

'The pace and motion of Sprezzatura reminds me of the story of Scheherazade: its witty, complex weavings carry us through the book and transport its speaker past any single despair, want, or image. Often, these poems begin with a question, only to later renounce the question/answer format, or praise the ponderous sensations that unanswerable questions inspire in us. Ultimately, even the answers we are given unravel into image. Information is abandoned in favor of the fleeting, luminous instability of sensory experience.

'If the book itself is a “sprezzatura” device, it serves the author as much as it does audience. There are moments when we almost understand things. Then, it turns out to be an echo, or it slips away. Or anything else. That’s all I want from poetry: that moment when something is so close to crystallizing, that for a second you believe it actually won’t go. Then, it does, and you’re back to thinking about an ecologically sound way to dispose of your dead cable box, or you can’t not imagine neighborhood youths being cruel to your furniture and why does it actually hurt you? I like art because I like being taken away from all the banal shit I feel bad about it. Like most of the art I admire, Mike Young’s Sprezzatura doesn’t take me to a single specific place or move like a safe or viable vehicle. Its poems revel in inconsistency; they move like weird little ships. They keep changing direction, but it’s never annoying or difficult or the same as the time before. No one is thrown overboard or gets a maritime disease. The passengers are happy, and ready for a change, and each time, it feels like going in the right direction.'-- Lucy Tiven, Fanzine








Mike Young Sprezzatura
Publishing Genius

'Mike Young’s bristling new book is about love and fear and money. How do we know our feelings and feel our knowledge? It’s about stupid contemporary immune systems and being left to our own devices. If you’re on a bus or plane, you’ll be happy to hear there are a lot of those. Rollerblading, Lord Byron’s clubbed foot, pyramids, falafels, bridges, trains, buses, nightshade, mustard, tattoo, antlers, innovation, nerves, guilt, blood, strawberry cops, conclusive gameshows, moody strangers, and “the yes that keeps watch / over and under my breath.”'-- Publishing Genius


Excerpts
taken from Vice

ENOUGH TO HASH THINGS OUT

I like it when the audience camera accidentally catches
the kid who doesn’t give a shit about the home run.

Carolyn says you need to wait ten seconds before
CPR, which is a delay never depicted in movies, I feel.

Imagine living as a rollercoaster critic. Some people like
certain frozen meals so much they learn how to make

real versions of them. A Pop-Tarts restaurant opened in
Times Square. You can buy Pop-Tarts sushi. When you read

a lot of news stories about these kinds of things, you realize
that only one kind of humor is allowed in contemporary

journalism. The world suggested by this humor is something
distant, like a card trick you get in the mail. Do you ever take

overheard advice? Like if one stranger swears by coconut water
to another stranger, will you try coconut water? What can it hurt?

Aren’t there many people you have failed to thank? One of my
stronger memories is sitting in the Blueberry Twist, realizing

who made his living off poker. One girl who worked at
Blockbuster was always negative. Even when I saw her

excited about something the other day—maybe a coupon
for paper towels, maybe a new color of berry—she seemed

more anti-complaining than actually expressing happiness.
Speaking of anti, the father insisted bats weren’t real and tried

to get everyone in the car. One time Chris said he had nothing to
do on Christmas Eve and he was planning on driving by my house,

but he didn’t. He told me this around March, I think.



CAN WE GET ICE CREAM AT THIS HOUR?

I am not that smart. Or that sad. So where do I get off
with your attention? Dear those who buy the salsa
suggested on the chip bag. Sons who ate caterpillars
when Dale Earnhardt died. Friends are the ones who
wave at you. Is your heart a bundle of shoelaces stuck
together by honey? Dear muumuus and instant potatoes.
We are all pretentious. Consider the flavors we choose
for bathroom aerosol. Dear Saran Wrap and gulch mud.
Is your life a milky dumafidget? Do you care about the word
in German for your loneliness? Let’s arm wrestle in the pantry
and straight up fuck this shit. My bros want poems to rap more.
Their fathers want less cussing. How do I explain that I have
bros who say bro in quotes? If it’s cold, there’s a blanket in the
pickup. This poem does not star a robot suit. Or a talking top-hat.
Those poems have all the nice clues for rain, but my dreams
are clogged with Folgers tins. Coupons for Hamburger Helper.
TV trays and powdered eggs. Dear aunts of shopping networks
in the dark. Dear coaches who still don’t quite understand
vitamin water. It’s like you fiddle all the ones you love across
the couch so they’ll each fit in the photo, except it never works
because it’s not their photo: it’s always just a photo of your love.
Dear men who conceive of suicide only by motorcycle,
you would have the most awesome beard if you would just
read poetry. It is true that I value their thermoses above others,
but why? Didn’t I break up with Amber over her use of the
word weird? Then there was the daughter of a Democrat who
sprayed his wife’s perfume behind the couch. Thank you
Pell Grant for the people I have met through you. Witty
dress shoes. The luxury to be congratulated for my loneliness
when I explain it through a fantasy of several million lonely
YouTube videos compiled together to form the definitive
trailer for The Season of Big Loneliness, which is a let down and
too long. It is true that I have friends and different friends and
rap videos we all watch. Except with certain friends I fall asleep
scuffling of feelings (as we are doing here, thank you) and others
who talk about how Egypt was built by the aliens and God alights
upon Kraft singles. Let’s hear about Hunter. He’s in Europe,
but only because of the Air Force. He dips Red Man and calls girls
biddies. We don’t keep in touch, and his mother believes he has the
soul of a deer outside the hospital, the one she heard shot dead during
labor. In the middle of the night she Googles his Wiccan horoscope.
I am not making this up. Dear sunflower seeds. Dear Superball tickets.
If I could make this up, wouldn’t I be the one who knows you?



NINERS WIN I LOVE YOU, NINERS LOSE I LOVE YOU
for BC after Portland 2009

They’re behind, but it’s not over.
38-25 and the Niners are driving.
My throat still hurts from fritter and lyrics,
while my search engine claims “Memoir of
environmentalist Greyhound driver”garners
no hits. Are we to believe they haven’t invented
themselves? In last night’s fog and cattle, I stole
a nap from my fever on the bus, chanting head songs
more sick than I really was, because a song’s the
epic you dust stir, and a body’s just an eep to sire.
What if you replaced the day part of on-the-road-
don’t-know-what-day-it-is with people? The Niners
tied it. There’s the going on, the went, the want, the we,
the shower you dream of, and the bath salts given to
me for Christmas that interact with my mistaken belief
that all gifts are instructions on how the giver wants to spend
time with the givee. Giraffes don’t play football. Environmentalist
Greyhound giraffe—his right-parted haircut sticking out the top,
plexiglass guarding him from passengers with chainsaws
and trail mix—screeches the bus to a stop in the desert, dust
muzzling the tires in a temporary cloud, all the yellow flowers
no passenger can name. Interstate stubble. No passenger knows
why we’ve stopped because no one looks up to see our driver,
the giraffe, coughing blood. I miss all my thieves. I miss my own
heart when it sneaks out, borrowing my cough syrup and windbreaker.
Three out of every eight readers are currently tolerating this poem
out of concern for the Niners. Sorry. I forgot. OK, there goes
a commercial. When the Niners come back, I will tell you
the score. Love is a giraffe with blood parachuting from its height.
Whoops. Arizona intercepted a pass. It’s all over. We blew it.
Our coach was too busy whispering into his playbook: You never saw
the pills that stole your friend. Pretty soon people will take photos
of you and call you after where they found you, because they can’t
remember how to call you what you are. That’s nobody’s fault.
When we say our own names, we make a weird face. Sure, even
the quarterback. Even the draft pick. Even the other team.



Mike Young "Can We Get Ice Cream At This Hour?"


The Collected Poets Series: Mike Young


Mike Young-Let's Build the Last Song and Sneak Away While Everyone is Listening




_________________




Cassandra Gillig:I think we both might agree that swagger is a very important thing to consider when writing and reading a poem. (We do, right?) How do you define swagger?

Dorothea Lasky: Oh, a poet’s swagger is so important! I think that the most “successful” poets have always been ones who manage to navigate between arrogance and humility with ease. Arrogance often makes the poet, and it isn’t necessarily that the person herself is arrogant. It’s simply that she knows when to employ it to her advantage. I’m thinking back to when Walt Whitman made his dick bigger in a reprint of Leaves of Grass. Or when another poet came up to me at a bar and told me he bought a gold chain to “rebrand.” There is a vulnerability that manifests in both of these actions, but they are also statements of self-importance. These small moments and small statements frame a poet’s body of work; these engagements with the public sphere. So when I think of a poet’s swagger, I think of exactly that — arrogance mediated by humility. Also, I love the whole “poet be like god” thing — the idea that poets speak on behalf of the gods and are ordained by the gods, themselves. Engaging with this tradition — this idea — creates the kind of poet swagger I love to see. Poets need to recognize that they aren’t gods, but that they need the power and importance of gods to get their messages across. I think that if you aren’t important to yourself, you will never be important to anyone else.

CG:Do you think the New York School poets in particular are kindred of hip-hop artists? I have always thought this: the naming of names, the elements of gossip, the surprising breaks into high lyrics abruptly from the mundane, the conversational, the everyday. Do you think there will ever be a New New York School? And if so, what might this look like, and do we even want this to happen?

DL: I think about this a lot, actually. Rappers and poets are similarly self-referential and intertextual. Like, there’s a similar way of being “in the know” — being able to decipher allusions to people, places, and things. And this is something that makes the study of poetry, or the study of hip-hop, really rewarding. For example, it is pretty common to read one of O’Hara’s most famous lines, “Grace / to be born and live as variously as possible” and not pick up that “Grace” is a pun on his friend Grace Hartigan’s name. You lose out on the cleverness. Similarly, if you listen to the song “The Language” by Drake, there’s this bit where he talks about eating dinner with Italians. Ostensibly nonsense, but if you are up on your Drake friendships, you would know that he hangs out with Italian soccer player Mario Balotelli. Anyway, the craft of hip-hop songs and poems, in that way, can be so intricate and impressive. And these things really make me want to listen to more music and read more poems — they make me care about the artists. These works are beautiful creations even if you can’t fully understand each and every facet, but if you do, it’s such a weirdly satisfying and exciting thing. It feels like detective work. I think the New York School’s passion for the boring, and the quotidian, and the conversational lives on in both hip-hop and poetry. We are all living in the shadow of Frank O’Hara. New York will be a closed door to all artists in 10 or 15 years, and even then there will be a New York School. The NYS taught us that we can talk about ourselves and talk about the world in a way that glorifies our own banality. I don’t think that will ever go out of style, nor should it. That idea is sometimes what keeps me going, because it is an idea that is so real. What do I have if not myself and other people and the world around me?








Dorothea Lasky Rome
Norton/Liveright

'Dorothea Lasky has been hailed as "undoubtedly one of the nation's most talented younger poets" (Huffington Post). From her first book, AWE, Lasky has been crafting her hallmark voice, a mixture of language that is "boldly colored, unabashed, and wildly human" (Timothy Donnelly), presenting her readers with poetry full of "blood-red realness" (Boston Globe) and haunting lines that "recall Frank O’Hara and Allen Ginsberg" (Chicago Tribune). With each new book, from the grand religiosity of AWE to the flat sadness and nihilism of Black Life to the witchery of Thunderbird, her poems have kept gaining an increasingly robust readership and have influenced an entire generation of new poets, fusing the transcendent vision of the New York School with a kind of performative confessionalism, bringing the force and power of the classical world into the everyday.'-- Liveright


Excerpts

I WANT TO BE ALIVE

More than anything I want to be alive
I want to jiggle
I want to jiggle on you
And gurgle
And urinate on your backspan
I want you to eat my menstrual blood
And soft juices
I want to eat your shit until I dream
I want you to come shit all over me
I want to bury my vomit in your shit
I want you to kiss me hard hard
In the nighttime
And not give up
I don’t want to be a thing
I want to be becoming
The nighttime
I want to be the nighttime with you
You know, I loved you
I loved you
I was wrong



POEM FOR MY FRIEND

Is it possible that it is grief that brought us together
Yes it is
It is possible

Dear friend, we sat on the sun-soaked fields
But I would have a strawberry with you anywhere
Or when they said of Julius Caesar: that his life was gentle

Dear friend, I would paint your eyes anywhere
The elements so mixed up in me
That Nature might stand up and say: Now this is a man!

And when they burn me up into the trees
I hope you are the trees
The set of neat green things

Come waiting for me
I hope you are the bushes
I hope you are the neat green bushes

There waiting for me



I AM A CORPSE

I am a corpse
And you are a corpse
And in the nighttime
I see your arm on me and it is dead already
And my arm is dead already
And I look at my belly, already blue
And it is barren and empty
And my lack of pain is also a kind of death
And I drift off to sleep and then I wake
And it is all dying
Why? Because a demon is after me
And he she it has been
Since the day I was born
What an unrepentant ass I must have been
In my past lives
Or what a soulless fish I must have fished
In this one
I can feel the endless stream of words
That are not flesh
They might as well be
Dreams and too
It is the work of corpses
Not ghosts
Come on all you corpses
Just dance and fuck
I just don’t want to animate
This rancid flesh
Like you do
Anymore
So I will say goodbye
And say
Fuck you
And I love you
And I never did
I never knew what feeling was
I only felt the pain
The sun the moon the trees the stars
The animals the birds the words
I only felt the pain
The things the you inflicted on me



Dorothea Lasky reading @ The Renaissance Society


Dorothea Lasky "I Like Weird Ass Hippies"


Dorothea Lasky live at 851




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'Monster House Press recently published Mallory Whitten’s debut book, Collected Poems & Stories. At first I felt like the Collected Poems & Stories was a title befit for a more “established” author, but after reading the book, it’s the only name that fits. There is a reason why Mallory has garnered co-signs from indie lit icons like Tao Lin, Sam Pink, and Noah Cicero. Her writing is certainly a unique voice in indie lit, one that is so refreshing, unpretentious and authentic that it demands respect. Mallory may speak softly, but when she speaks, everybody listens.

'Mallory covers topics like mental illness, drug addiction, social isolation, feminism, high school, relationships, etc, throughout her book. Her style is warm and kind—a Midwestern drawl rising from the page—but there is often a punch, a sharpness, at the end of her poems: a fist through the reverie, right into your jaw. See, for example, how she ends “Adderall Diets, Switching From Beer To Wine, & Monitoring Your Pizza Intake Vs. Everyone Else’s,” the first poem in the collection: “the loch ness monster is telling me / that i will become more sexually and socially desired / the easier i can fit into a laundry basket / the easier i can be picked up and thrown.”

'Mallory’s style and stories have a dreamlike quality to them, and dreams figure prominently into Mallory’s writing. She alternates between real-life stories, half-remembered dreams, and childhood memories—blurring the line between them all, giving them a soft, pillowy consistency, even when they turn into nightmares.

'In broad strokes that blur the line between poetry and prose, Mallory tells the stories of herself and others, the weirdos of suburban Ohio: an autistic girl who brings a knife to school; a masturbating great-grandpa; an anxious, overweight algebra teacher; a school janitor whose only day of relief is when he gets to go on the roof and throw the kickballs that have accumulated there over the course of the school year to the students.

'These stories are sad, and there is no resolution. Great-grandparents die. Autistic kids get bullied. People break up and never get back together. But the humor that is there, the laughter at the absurdity and sadness of it all, is resolution enough. There is an odd sort of invisible closure that one feels at the end of a Mallory Whitten poem.'-- Zach Schwartz, Fanzine








Mallory Whitten Collected Poems & Stories
Monster House Press

'MALLORY WHITTEN’S POEMS & STORIES take such unique note of the strange & depressing aspects of contemporary American life that they often feel like dreams. At the same time affectless & deeply emotive, these poems & stories take account, with something like a stenographer’s prowess, of the anthropologically immense complexity & absurdity of everything happening all at once: prescription drugs, great-grandparents, the judicial system, upper middle class candy stores, elementary school janitors, gentrification, iguanas, binge drinking, anxiety attacks, vague social structures, ad nauseam.'-- Monster House

'Mallory Whitten is easily one of my favorite writers. She painted a steak for me once and covered it in rhinestones. She called it the disco steak and I hung it on my wall. Every morning I get up and it sparkles and shines. This is her book. It’ll make you sparkle and shine after you read it. I hope you’re ready to sparkle and shine. I hope you’re ready to say that Mallory Whitten is one of your favorite writers too. She made this book just for you. You’re welcome.'— SCOTT MCCLANAHAN


Excerpts

recreational drug use

i’m sitting on a couch with five people
there is an obese dog named rufus on the floor
i’m sneezing & walking to the bathroom frequently to blow my nose

seems what i need is an allergy pill

i have asked
& no one has one

but there is adderall
& xanax
& alcohol
& weed
& mdma
& morphine
& ketamine
& ecstasy



BALL DAY

i told you the janitor at the elementary school i went to had a red mullet & a motorcycle

you told me the janitor at the elementary school you went to had long hair & was named wayne

i imagined the janitor at the elementary school you went to cleaning up puke in hallways & poop next to toilets

you said twice a year your long-haired janitor would go on the roof of the school & throw the balls that had collected there during the school year down onto the playground

you said those days were known unofficially as "ball day" by the students

i imagined the janitor at the elementary school you went to cleaning up your puke in the hallway & your friend's poop next to a toilet while feeling defeated then having a faraway feeling of ball day



starfish

when starfish eat
their mouths extend from their bellies
in the shape of a tube

the tube sucks up food
then reverts back to its original belly shape
where it holds the food until it is digested

if i were a starfish
i’d swallow a creature
then look down
& see the creature inside of my tube stomach
& feel it wriggling around

i’d take a knife in one of my five starfish hands
cut my stomach off
then cry with the creature i started to eat



Trailer: 'Collected Poems & Stories'


young exzackly reading "food anxiety" by mallory whitten


jordan castro & mallory whitten laughing to the bank



_______________




Sarah Carson:What was the impetus for this play? What made you choose this content matter + this form for communicating it?

Joyelle McSweeney: This play germinated from learning that Abduwali Muse – the teenage Somali ‘pirate’ who was tried in NYC a few years back—is imprisoned in a federal facility in Terre Haute, Indiana—the state where I live, the Rust Belt state whose name vaguely refers to a genocided people. That’s how misery moves around the globe and always finds its Target ™. Like many citizens of the Internet, I remember Muse for the movie-star grin he flashed at the cameras upon arrival at trial in New York. The charisma of that moment floods all through this play. I wrote it as a spell for his protection and an effort at occult communication.

In my play, a benevolent Julian Assange has hijacked a containership full of Dead Youth, a plural character made up of (un-)dead, saucy, track-suited teens who have died all over the planet from contact with violence: gang warfare, pharmaceutical industry predation, environmental toxicity, drones, suicide, johns, etc. He is steering them to his childhood home Magnetic Island where he will reboot them/upload them to the Internet. Muse and a female Saint-Exupéry (representing The Law) board the ship and attempt to wrest control from Assange. Their fortunes are all controlled by a female deity played Henrietta Lacks, the African-American cancer patient whose cells, harvested without her consent, at Johns Hopkins in 1951, have led to many important medical (and consumerist) discoveries and are used in research settings all over the globe.

This may sound like heavy stuff, but it’s actually a farce, given the many political figures who collide in this inside-out Tempest. There are many press conferences, song and dance numbers, show trials, etc, and lots of campy banter. The farce form makes your belly shake and then sticks you with its blade. Yikes!

SC:What was your process like? Where did you begin? How long did it take you? How did you know you were finished?

JM: I forced this out over just a few weeks to meet the deadline. I knew what I wanted to write about and why—as a play of advocacy for Muse and Assange, and a chance to elevate Henrietta Lacks to a position of absolute power. I had a lot of urgency driving me to write. But I also wanted to write a real play, not just a shorty poet’s play of 10 or 15 pages. So I went back and made every draft longer. This also allowed me to carry certain motifs (bees, computer code, cancer, green) from section to section.

SC:What advice would you give to someone who wants to get into writing experimental plays like yours? Are there any authors you’d recommend?

JM: My advice is just to read like hell and write that which gives you perverse joy and which you are somewhat humiliated to present to the world. That’s a sign you are writing stuff no one else but you could write, which usually makes for the most delicious and devilish work. To write my play, I really drew on an array of plays and performances I love: Langston Hughes Scotsboro, Ltd.; Amiri Baraka The Dutchman; Suzan-Lori Parks America Play; Shakespeare Tempest and Merchant of Venice; Soyinka, From Zia with Love &amp; A Scourge of Hyacinths; Durenmatt The Visit; Genet, entire body of work; Jack Smith, entire body of work. I researched Assange and Lacks and, to the extent I could, Muse. I made up the Exupérystuff. I had also read CLR James The Black Jacobins earlier that year and became obsessed with this short note written by Toussaint L’Ouverture, in (I assume) James’s translation here:

Brothers and friends. I am Toussaint L’Ouverture, my name is perhaps known to you. I have undertaken vengeance. I want Liberty and Equality to reign in San Domingo. I work to bring them into existence. Unite yourselves to us, brothers, and fight with us for the same cause.

The self-announcement of this note stops the show and initiates revolutionary time. I have used its tone, syntax, and cadences in all of my plays because they are works of revolution and vengeance. When Henrietta Lacks says her name in this play, it is a declaration of war. When Julian Assange says, “Hello, I’m Julian Assange”, it continually resets the play’s clock. I recite this letter to myself while driving around South Bend or whenever the spirit wavers.









Joyelle McSweeney DEAD YOUTH, OR, THE LEAKS
Litmus Press

'In this farce set on a hijacked containership on its way to Magnetic Island, Julian Assange attempts to “reboot” a troupe of DEAD YOUTH—teenagers from all over the globe who have died in violent circumstances from sweatshop labor to environmental poisoning to war—but must grapple with two other would-be hijackers: a young Somali pirate and a female Antoine de St-Exupery. Described by its author as a “badly-wired allegory,” Dead Youth, or, The Leaks brings to manic light the veiled violence that makes life in capitalism possible.'-- Litmus Press


Excerpt
from Hyperallergic

[Note: Dead Youth, or, The Leaks finds a benevolent Julian Assange piloting a stolen containership, the SS Smirk, on his way to Magnetic Island. His mission is to reboot a pack of DEAD YOUTH, tracksuited teens who have died by a variety of Anthropocene causes, and upload them to the Internet. The ship is boarded by two other would-be hijackers: Abduwali MUSE, a teenage Somali “pirate,” and a female ST-EXUPÉRY, representing the LAW-in-travesty. In this passage, MUSE is being tried by ST-EXUPÉRY, while the dubious YOUTH oscillate between taking the MUSE’s side and that of the LAW.]


DEAD YOUTH 1: O this island. It’s a pit.
DEAD YOUTH 2: It’s a dump.
DEAD YOUTH 1: It’s a mass grave!
DEAD YOUTH 2: Without the masses. It’s deserted.
ASSANGE: Not at all. It’s just the off-season. You boys play the part of the unseasonable youth. Untimely plucked. Watch out or you’ll be juiced. [his tail switches like a lazy cat]

ST-EXUPÉRY: (from office area) ABDI WALI ABDULQADIR MUSE!

MUSE: I recognize the representative of France.

ST-EXUPÉRY: You are not the judge!
Nor president pro tem!
You do not recognize me.
I myself am JUSTICE.
I recognize you.

YOUTH TO YOUTH: HUM, blind Justice recognizes Muse!
YOUTH TO YOUTH: That’s what, in science, we call a double-blind.
TOUT YOUTH: A very pharmaceutical pursuit! Forsooth.

ST-EXUPÉRY: Silence, youth! It is golden.
It has a mouth, but it’s fixed.
Like a clock, or a neutered cat,
or suit brought against an emperor.
In other words, can it.

YOUTH: Silence in other words! That is strange science!

ST-EXUPÉRY: Let the interrogation proceed. Now, Muse, I don’t want to have to take out my carburetor or my salad tongs. So answer my questions. Sing, muse.

MUSE: I won’t.

ST-EXUPÉRY: Then prattle.

MUSE: The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream
YOUTH: the only emperor is the emperor de glace
MUSE: the only emperor is the one who stands naked
YOUTH: the only emperor is the emperor sans pants
MUSE: and communicates to youth, directly in his nakedness.
ASSANGE: O dream of a crystalline communication.
Flap flap to dirty ears. The pidgins of pigeons.
The germs they smuggle in their penates and pinions.
The germs they share for a puddle of crumb-ions.
Good pigeons, grey matter, rats with aspirations!
O rank mass, its rank communicants! Its holy communications!
YOUTH: We Catholics believe in transubstantiation.
Our uncanny valley runs on circuits of revulsion.
MUSE: How like a thing, how like a paragon
YOUTH: how like a think, how like an epicure
MUSE: how like a stink, how like a pedicure
YOUTH: how like bacteria that thrive in the footbath
MUSE: how like a strand of flesh-eating staph
YOUTH: how like the society ladies hobble on no feet
MUSE: until they realize Jimmy Choos fit better with no feet
YOUTH: how they then occupy the lotus position
MUSE: how like a bath salt
YOUTH: how like a bidet.
MUSE: What a piece of…work is man
YOUTH: Le seul empereur est l’empereur de glace
MUSE: Caveat emptor
YOUTH: Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate.
MUSE: Follow your leader. That’s called dictee.

ST-EXUPÉRY: I see you are a very learned man.

MUSE: Maleducated. Malaparte. That’s why we formed our bande à part. Before the Little Emperor could pursue his destiny, he flipped the ‘Malaparte’ to ‘Bonaparte’. A visionary must also have a literalist’s heart. And wear it like a medal on his chest.

ST-EXUPÉRY: O what a fine speech! O medals all around!

YOUTH: [affixing metals by driving pins into Muse’s torso. He now resembles a Sebastian] That’s tantalum, that’s for capacity, in hearing aids, jet blades, and telephony. There’s cassiterite that’s for circuit boards. And there’s wolframite that’s for ‘green ammunition,’ i.e. bullets with less lead. So children who eat bullets won’t get lead poisoning and perform poorly in standardized tests. Also good for making your iPhone vibrate.

ALL: What?

YOUTH: I kid you not. Wolframite is a very right metal. People mine each other for it. I’m talking about a combat mine, mined by gangpressed soldiers. I am not even talking about a data mine.

ASSANGE: O MUSE, you are a bouquet. You are a very directory, a very index, the very body of contemporary miseree.

ST-EXUPÉRY: That’s enough. Don’t encourage his vanitee. Second question. MUSE, when brought to trial in New York, why did you smile for the cameras?

MUSE: Because I have a face.
[rimshot]
[rifle crack]

ST-EXUPÉRY: WHAT’S THAT?

MUSE: Because I have a face.

ST-EXUPÉRY: OBSCENE ANSWER!

MUSE: It is the opposite of obscene. The obscene must be hidden from view. My face I show. It is a black face, but it is not in blackface. It comes from a black site. It is a leak.

ST-EXUPÉRY: O OBSCENE! O how his teeth gleams, his smile, and his eyes, his charisma, and his native talent for being alive. O obscenity. What a felony! Youth tar him with petroleum products. Then he will know what it means to be in capitalism’s embrace. IN THE BOSOM OF THE LAW!

(YOUTH tar ST-EXUPÉRY instead)

WHAT? What is the meaning of this?

YOUTH: Are you not the font of Justice? I recognize you, I met you so many times on the other side of the bench. You sent me to juvie for a decade, took the kickback to buy golf clubs. Luckily I OD’d and was thus released from my sentence, albeit to the morgue. Now you wear the black robes you wore in life, which shows you have been invested with gravure as in the grave.

(read the entirety)



10th Annual SLC Poetry Festival [Joyelle McSweeney]


Joyelle McSweeney: Bryant Park Reading


Joyelle McSweeney reading @ the revolution




*

p.s. Hey. ** ASH, Hey there, man! How's it big time? Wow, I'm really glad you shared your 'I Am A Tree'. Hold on. Oh, man, I just let myself have a minute with it, and I'll give it full time later, and it's great -- version and video! I'll imbed it below for the folks. Everyone, down at the bottom of this thing you'll find a video of/by music-conjurer and d.l. ASH and his band burninghouse doing a cover of the great Doug Gillard-penned Guided by Voices song 'I Am A Tree' complete with awesome, mad video made by ASH himself. Give it a spin when you down there, okay? You'll be very, very glad. Incredible coolness, my friend. Thank you a lot! ** GucciCODYprada, Hi, C! Thanks, man. Wish I could eat that stuff you're making, like ... a lot of it. Tons! I will (tell you), yeah, when I finish reading, but do check in again in a bit 'cos you know my spaciness. I like Nicolas Jaar's stuff, what I've heard, but I don't think I know that one, so I'll go get it. Much love back to you! ** Keaton, No tail bone? Um, how does he ... ? Never mind. I think the days when rape was rampant in the Marais are long past, like centuries past even. I don't get Jesus and Christianity at all, which I guess was probably more than clear yesterday. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. Ayn Rand made multiple appearances here yesterday, weird. I know about her only slightly more than I know about Jesus, which is borderline squat. ** Steevee, You like your Jesuses pistol-packing. Cool: the review. Everyone, Steevee has reviewed the most intriguing sounding if apparently let-downing film 'A Spell to Ward Off the Darkness', which has as its turf Black Metal in Norway, and hence its theoretical promise. Anyway, go read what he has to say about it here. ** Sypha, Why did I know the word Biebz would be in your first sentence today? I read 'Lord of the Rings'. I liked it. Not my thing in the slightest, but it was very well done. I've read part of 'The Tunnel', and I need to go back and finish it one day because I thought it was pretty great. Why are people talking about Ayn Rand? It's so weird. Because some far right top dog politicians like her? I don't get it. ** Kyler, Oh, wow, thanks, man. My ignorance is bliss? ** Kier, Hey! I like being surprising. It's fun. Yay, on the Lukas Haas collages. I love the collages you've been sharing on FB lately. Ah, that's where I saw the Johnny Gosch film, on Mr Waters's list. Mystery solved. You day of doing nothing sounds plenty productive to me. My day was almost entirely occupied by film editing. Not very interesting to recount. Meticulous, repetitive work, but we got quite far. If we're lucky, we'll have a solid rough cut of the scene finished today, and we can move on to Scene 1. We may have found a guy to organize the footage on scenes 2, 4, and 5, which we sorely need if we're going to get the edit done in time, and I'll find out if we scored on that front this morning. Other than editing, which was a giant gulp of the day, I conferred about tech stuff with the guy who's helping with my eBook/novel project, and did almost nothing else. Ate, worked on blog posts, blah blah. I fear today will sound a lot like yesterday, but I will look everywhere for interesting details, I promise. What happened during the stretch of time popularly known as 'today' in your life? ** Thomas Moronic, Thanks for letting me/us know about Morrissey's forgiving side. ** Etc etc etc, Hi! Yep, 'weird conversational jargon moving with the speed of music' has a giant place in my heart too. And in my head. And even maybe in my mouth on extremely rare occasions that can't be triggered consciously or predicted. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Ben. Rich news there about the beginning of your spate of days off. Luxuriate, man. ** Misanthrope, Yeah, none of those Days you say you need are going to happen, or so I predict. However, 'one never knows' should always be everyone's dictum, so ... Right, about beards. I don't really have a problem with them like I do with mustaches unless they're really trimmed and designed looking 'cos I can look at bearded guys and think, 'You didn't shave for a while', makes sense. No, I didn't know that about his mom. Why, dare I ask, does it make sense? You mean because it explains him acting wild and stuff? ** Hyemin kim, The first gif of Jesus barely has hands even on a somewhat fast laptop. Thank god he is/was not a writer, no? I don't think I'm going to prepare for the 23rd event. The cool thing about the 'being interviewed onstage' format is that I feel like the interviewer has to do the preparation, and I can just sit there and react spontaneously. Which is probably a really bad method on my part. ** Bill, Hi, Bill. Jesus, San Francisco, I mean ... really. I guess Paris must do things that conform to foreigners' preconceptions about what Paris would do all the time. 'Mumbo Jumbo' is awesome! I'm guessing your voice is all regular and gloriously yours again by now? ** With that, I tell you what you already know, namely that there are four books up there that I recommend to you. Have at them. Off I go to edit a film. See you tomorrow.


b u r n i n g h o u s e - I AM A TREE

The 5th annual DC's Bûche de Noël Beauty Pageant

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'The earliest recipe of the Bûche de Noël shows up in Pierre Lacam’s 1898 Le memorial historique et géographique de la pâtisserie. The earliest mention however is a couple of years earlier in Alfred Suzanne’s 1894 La cuisine anglaise et la pâtisserie where he notes in passing that it is (was?) the specialty of a certain Ozanne, presumably his friend Achille Ozanne (1846-1898). Of course we have no idea of what this looked like. An article in the French newspaper Figaro adds an interesting tidbit (see Pierre Leonforte, “La bûche de Noël : une histoire en dents de scie,” Figaro, 17 December 2000): according to Stéphane Bonnat, of chocolatier Félix Bonnat her great grandfather’s recipe collection from 1884 contains a recipe for a roll cake make with chocolate ganache. Admittedly she makes no claim to this being the first bûche de Noël.

'One of the famous stories about this French dessert is associated with Napoleon Bonaparte of France. He issued a proclamation, as per which, the people of Paris were ordered to close the chimneys of their houses, during winters. It was thought that entry of cold air into the houses was causing spread of illnesses and the proclamation was aimed at prevention of such diseases. It was during this time that Buche de Noel or yule log cake was invented in Paris. As use of hearths was prohibited, they needed some sort of traditional symbol that can be enjoyed with family and friends during the festive season that falls in winter. Thus, this cake became a symbolic substitution around which the family could gather for storytelling and other holiday activities.

'It makes sense that the cake, like so many other Christmas traditions (think Santa, decorated Christmas trees, Christmas cards, etc) dates to the Victorian era, to a time of genteel, bourgeois domesticity. In France, in particular, a certain romantic image of peasant traditions had become part of the story the French told themselves about themselves and while the average Parisian bourgeois could hardly be expected to hoist logs into their 4th floor apartment, they could at least show solidarity for their country cousins by picking up a more manageable bûche at the local pâtisserie. That the result was a little kitsch fit the middle class sensibility too.'-- collaged



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This year's candidates
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Bûche de Noël 2014 by François Perret pour le Shangri-La
'Tel un cadeau individuel, chaque sapin dévoile en bouche un jeu de saveurs et de textures virtuose. Juste croquant, le chocolat noir conduit à un biscuit sans farine divinement léger qui vient se fondre à un crémeux de chocolat blanc dont la douceur tempère parfaitement une marmelade d’orange faite maison. Parsemée d’un grué de cacao - fève torréfiée caramélisée finement enrobée de chocolat - la marmelade dialogue avec une mousse au chocolat légère travaillée à l’ancienne. "J'aime qu’une dégustation soit pleine de vie, surtout pour ce moment si privilégié de la bûche de Noël. Les contrastes sont essentiels mais ne doivent jamais devenir des opposés. C’est là toute la complexité " souligne François Perret.'

Période : Proposée au restaurant La Bauhinia du 5 au 25 décembre 2014.
Prix : 108 € pour 5 personnes.






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Buche de Noël 2014 au Park Hyatt Paris-Vendôme
'Composé d’un biscuit d’amande douce, de cédrat confit, d’une fine ganache chocolat blanc et Absinthe, et d’un crémeux vanille de Tahiti, ce dessert de Noël ravira vos papilles et vos yeux. “Pour les parfums, il me semblait évident d’incorporer de l’Absinthe en gardant une acidité avec le confit d’agrumes, le côté gourmand pour le biscuit amande et donner une onctuosité avec le crémeux vanille” , explique Fabien Berteau.'

Disponible à partir du 1er décembre 2014
Tarif : 110 euros (dessert 6 parts)






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Bûche de Noël 2014 by Yann Couvreur pour le Prince de Galles
'Sous le voile irisé d’une ganache montée et délicatement parfumée au sirop d’érable, on se laisse surprendre par une nougatine aux noix de pécan se mêlant à un biscuit pancake et une marmelade de cassis. Et cerise sur le gâteau, huit généreux« coussins » au chocolat au lait, garnis d’une crème anglaise, viennent achever cette somptueuse création.'

En vente à emporter, sur commande à partir du 1er décembre
Pour 8 personnes - 95 euros.






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Bûche de Noël 2014 du Grand Hôtel du Palais Royal
'Pour réaliser cette création gourmande, Jean-Yves Bournot, le Chef du restaurant « Le Lulli », a imaginé une bûche composée d’une ganache au chocolat, sur un biscuit joconde à partager entre amis ou en famille. Entièrement recouverte d’un manteau ocre, la bûche est sublimée par les ferronneries en chocolat.'

Tarif : 60€ pour 4 à 6 personnes





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Bûche de Noël 2014 du Hôtel Le Meurice par Christophe Michalak
'Crémeux au chocolat des Caraïbes sur lit de croustillant praliné, biscuit à la noix de coco, mousse coco légère et coulis exotique la composent.'

Disponible au Meurice à Paris en édition limitée.
Tarif : 85 € pour 4 à 6 personnes





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Bûche de Noël 2014 by Pierre Hermé
'À la fois sculpture pour la structure chocolatée tout en amas de bûches carrées, et gâteau pour la merveille ultracacaotée et texturée qu’elle renferme, cette œuvre est une gourmandise d’un nouveau genre, à admirer et à partager sur les tables de fin d’année sans modération. Composition de la Bûche « Solstice d’hiver » :Biscuit moelleux aux amandes, praliné feuilleté chocolat noir, fines feuilles de chocolat noir, ganache et crème Chantilly au chocolat Pure Origine Brésil Plantation Paineiras.'

Edition limitée à 55 exemplaires
Tarif : 140 € à partir de 12 personnes






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Bûches de Noël 2014 by Jean-Paul Hévin
'Cette année, pour ce Noël 2014, le mythique artisan chocolatier et chef pâtissier change de registre et vous propose « La Bûche Maboule ». Cette boule de Noël géante, brillante et colorée, renferme une douceur au goût surprenant… A l’intérieur ? Une ganache au vin chaud entre deux coques à l’orange confite et au poivre de Lune, le tout dans une sphère de chocolat noir.'

Prix : 86 € la bûche pour 8 personnes




'« La Bûche du voyage »: Composition : coque de chocolat noir, mousse légère de chocolat du Vénézuela, biscuit cacao et amandes.'

Prix : 41€





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Bûche de Noël 2014 chez Gastel
'Des livres gourmands qui peuvent s'ajouter comme bon vous semble... La pâtisserie Gastel vous donne en effet la possibilité de "personnaliser" cette collection de 4 à 8 livres au choix parmi la sélection suivante : Chocolat - Orange : Crème légère au chocolat noir, morceaux d'oranges, coque chocolat et couverture chocolat. Pistache - Cerise Griotte : Crème légère à la pistache, cerises griotte fraîches, coque chocolat et couverture chocolat. Vanille - Framboise : Crème légère à la vanille, framboises fraîches, coque chocolat et couverture chocolat Praliné - Noisette : Crème légère au praliné, éclats de noisettes, coque chocolat et couverture chocolat.'

Date de sortie: le samedi 6 décembre 2014 (Date limite des Commandes: le 21 pour le 24 décembre et le 28 pour le 31 décembre).
Prix : 7,00€ la part (Bûches de 4, 6 et 8).





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Bûche de Noël 2014 by Lenôtre X Pierre Frey
'À travers les fenêtres en sucre tiré et les murs de chocolat blanc, on découvre une ambiance chaleureuse et cosy, version miniature. Fauteuil et canapé sont en chocolat surmontés de moelleux coussins dans l’esprit calisson, tapis rayé et rideaux sont revisités en pâte d’amande. Une montagne de cadeaux tout en confiseries est déposée devant la cheminée de chocolat noir, au pied du sapin en chocolat Gianduja.'

Série limitée numérotée du 13 au 24 décembre 2014.
Bûche à partager pour 8/10 personnes – Prix : 130 €






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Bûche de Noël 2014 chez A la Mère de Famille
'A la fois abracadabrantesque et inédite, cette bûche glacée saura aussi combler vos papilles grâce à son caramel et chocolat disposé sur un lit croustillant de noisettes et streusel, avec sa coque en chocolat noir « signature » 68%. Le bonnet et les bottes sont en pâte d’amande.'

Largeur 9cm x hauteur 8cm x longueur 30cm (18cm hors décor) - Poids 1150g
Tarif : 47 €





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Bûche de Noel 2014 cadeau caramel de Thiriet
'Composition : Deux biscuits financiers entourent un crémeux au caramel au beurre salé avec morceaux d'amandes caramélisées, une mousse au chocolat noir et une autre façon chantilly au caramel. On aime : la forme en cadeau qui une fois ouvert nous régale de l'association chocolat/caramel.'

Prix : 13,95 € le dessert de 500 g soit 6 parts environ





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Bûche de Noël" 2014 du Le Meurice: "Bûche Dali" by Cédric Grolet
'Pour la forme : imaginons un beau morceau de bois dans une cheminée, qui au petit matin, s’est éteint, laissant des cendres fines, qui dans ce cas, sont des poussières délicieusement chocolatées et ses copeaux cendrés, fumés… Pour le goût : c’est agréablement surprenant, original, fort en fumé… Cédric Grolet adore dans son laboratoire faire « fumer » les ingrédients, au Meurice… Les nuages gourmands se dégagent souvent de la Pâtisserie, pour notre grand bonheur. En effet, c’est un coup de « Maître », pour le Dali, c’est normal. Composée d’un joli biscuit chocolaté et croquant à sa base, d’un biscuit tendre chocolat-sarrasin. Il y a du croustillant, à l’oreille et sous la dent c’est très agréable. Une pointe de fleur de sel, la poire juste caramélisée au miel, très moelleuse, en son cœur, c’est délicat, et bien sûr ce goût merveilleux 100% Mousse au chocolat noir fumée. Un Must.'

Disponible sur commande dès maintenant et jusqu’au 16 décembre.
Prix: 50 € par personne






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Bûche de Noël 2014 de Häagen Dazs by Nendo
'Bûche Le Village: Composition : maisons au chocolat blanc coloré naturellement, coeur à la sauce fudge chocolat et noisettes caramélisées. Base en biscuit aux amandes et fruits secs, crème glacée Vanilla associée à l'édition limitée Vanilla & Florentine, sauce caramel à l'orange avec des morceaux d'orangettes. Existe aussi version maisons de chocolat au lait coeur à la sauce fudge chocolat et noisettes caramélisées. Base aux glaces Dulce De Leche et Macadamia Nut Brittle, séparées par une sauce au caramel beurre salé et amandes entières torréfiées, sur un biscuit dacquoise praliné.'

En vente du 15 novembre 2014 au 15 janvier 2015. En exclusivité dans les boutiques Häagen-Dazs France et Benelux.
Prix : 49 € pour une bûche de 8 à 10 personnes







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Bûche de Noël 2014 by les "Maisons" de Guy Martin
'Le Grand Véfour, mythique restaurant, membre des Relais & Châteaux et niché derrière la Comédie-Française, a décidé de célébrer Noël en créant une bûche festive arborant la forme d’une bouteille de champagne à croquer. A l’intérieur ? Un alléchant mariage de coing, mandarine, kaki relevé de Champagne Ruinart Rosé…. Rappelons que depuis 1991, Guy Martin est le maître de ces lieux, qu’il a définitivement acquis en 2011.'

Bûche Champagne disponible pour 2 à 6 personnes. Prix pour 6 personnes : 58 €.
A emporter, sur commande, 5 jours à l’avance.





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Bûches de Noël 2014 de chef Miguel Moreno for Laurent Le Daniel
'Both are composed of praline mousseline, vanilla, coulis of apricot, milk chocolate and creme de pamplemousse!? Plus crunchy noisettes(hazelnuts).'

Tarif: 64€







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Bûche de Noël 2014 au Burgundy Paris
'Mais alors que vous réserve ce dessert ? Décoré de diamants en sucre givrée sur son beau manteau blanc, il se compose de 6 parts individuelles représentant chacune une branche de l’étoile. Chaque part dévoile un sablé à la farine, un croustillant torréfié et une bavaroise aux poires, le tout agrémenté d’un biscuit pâte d’amande fumée en clin d’œil au bois du sapin.'

Prix : 90 € pour 6 personnes






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Bûche de Noël 2014 de Frédéric Cassel
'Vous allez craquer pour cet ours blanc imaginé par Frédéric Cassel! Cette bûche est composée de crumble noisette, de caramel mou, de glace à la vanille, de noix de pécan caramélisées et de glace caramel au beurre salé.'

Disponible à Fontainebleau.
Tarif: 32€ pour 4/5 personnes et 48€ pour 6/8 personnes.





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Bûche de Noël 2014 de Arnaud Larher
'Pour qui ? Les familles avec enfants ne lésinant pas sur les moyens pour rendre Noël toujours plus magique. Ce qu’on en raconte… Le traîneau de Père Noël se pare de chocolat noir et au lait, caramel à la vanille, praliné aux noisettes et même d’une chantilly gourmande Gianduja aux noisettes.'

Disponible à Paris à partir du 5 décembre.
Tarif: 78€ pour 6/8 personnes.





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Bûches de Noël 2014 de Christophe Roussel
'Buche Red Forest: Forêt noire et rouge revisitée, cerises tardives et amarenas, fèves de tonka, biscuit épais et gourmand au chocolat et crème onctueuse à la vanille.'

Tarif: 6/8 personne, 48 €





'Buche Sushi: Mousse au chocolat noir, crémeux pistache, crème mascarpone relevée par la vanille de Tahiti, le tout ornés de choux à la pistache'.

Tarif: 6 / 8 personnes, 48 €





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Bûche de Noël 2014 by Fauchon
'Baptisée Éclat de lumière, cette bûche de Noël 2014 est tout d'abord un beau spectacle visuel. Telles des bougies et leurs flammes incandescentes qui ornent les tables de fêtes, ce dessert de fin d’année révèle l’éclat des saveurs en trois temps de dégustation, symbolisés pour chaque part par 3 sphères, disposées sur une fine plaque de chocolat noir. Place tout d’abord à la sphère blanche, composée d’une coque de chocolat, dévoilant un biscuit croquant au chocolat noir 70% de cacao, avec une mousse légère au chocolat au lait et caramel, un crémeux à la vanille de Tahiti et une compote acidulée au fruit de la passion. Vient ensuite la deuxième sphère rouge en chocolat blanc garnie d'un coulis de mangue et de fruit de la passion. Enfin, surprise et gourmandise avec l’ultime sphère de chocolat au lait, poudrée d’or scintillant, garnie d'un caramel onctueux au fruit de la passion.'

Disponible à partir du 8 décembre 2014
Tarifs : 15 euros la part individuelle, 60 euros les 4 parts, 90 euros les 6 parts et 120 euros les 8 parts





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Bûche de Noël 2014 de Vincent Guerlais
'Biscuit moelleux aux noisettes, crémeux chocolat pur origine du Pérou, croustillant amandes caramélisées, mousse noisettes du Piémont accompagnée d’une compotée de fruits de la passion.'

Taille unique 8 personnes 55 €.




'Composition: Crème onctueuse au chocolat noir, cœur de ganache chocolat et caramel au beurre salé. On aime: la forme originale qui fera son effet auprès d votre.'

23 € pour 4 personnes - 31 € pour 6 personnes - 40 € pour 8 personnes





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Buche de Noel 2014: A chacun son Everest du Mandarin Oriental
'Composition : Base streusel amande, mousseux et crémeux au caramel. Coeur caramel à la vanille, biscuit caramel, enveloppé d'un bavarois vanille. On aime : une bûche bonne dans tous les sens du terme puisqu'une partie des bénéfices des ventes sera reversée à l'association "A Chacun Son Everest". Créée par l'alpiniste et docteur Christine Janin, elle aide les enfants et les femmes atteints de cancer à "guérir mieux" en les encourageant à atteindre leur propre Everest.'

Où la trouver : en édition limitée du 15 au 25 décembre 2014 au Comptoir des Pâtisseries du Mandarin Oriental et sur réservation 48 h à l'avance.
Prix : 118 euros pour 6 personnes






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Buche de Noel 2014 Ludovic Chaussard et Jean-François Piège
'Citadelle, Gâteaux Thoumieux: Qu'y a-t-il dedans? une base de streusel cacao, crémeux au chocolat, baba moelleux et panna cotta vanille. Notre avis: Un gâteau-fort qui fera tomber petits et grands. Le chocolat est parfaitement dosé, le baba et la pana cotta apportent un étonnant rafraîchissement -on croirait presque une touche de glace. Le streusel apporte du croquant en plus.'

8 personnes, 85 euros





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Bûche de Noel 2014 du Café Pouchkine
'Composition : coque en chocolat blanc, mousse de chocolat, coeur fondant au caramel, biscuit au cacao relevé d'une pointe de sel et de vanille légèrement épicée de café à la noisette Gianduja. On aime : le trésor chocolaté qui se cache sous cette spectaculaire coque en chocolat blanc.'

Prix : 96 € pour 8 personnes





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Bûche de Noel 2014 de Pierre Marcolini
'Chocolat au lait, boules décoratives en chocolat blanc.'

Prix: pour 4 à 6 personnes, 125 €





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Bûche de Noel 2014 du Pain de Sucre
'À la pâtisserie Pain de Sucre, une bonne bûche est une bûche masquée. La Happy Garden, rencontre entre la Provence et l'Orient, est toute en sucre et en tendresse. Le biscuit moelleux à la pistache d’Iran rencontre la pulpe de mangue et de fruit de la passion, pour un effet bonheur immédiat. La touche en plus? Un crémeux pistache et romarin. Saveurs, vous avez dit saveurs?'

Prix: 51 € pour 6 personnes, 68 € pour 8 personnes





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Bûche de Noel 2014 "Nordic Ware" du Patisserie Antoine de Pasteur
'Les plus grands crus de chocolat du Pérou et du Mexique habillent la Grande Dame et révèlent un duo onctueux de mousses et crèmes chocolatées, reposant sur un brownie aux noix de pécan caramélisées.'

Edition limitee 60, à partir du 23 décembre 2014
8 personnes - 78 €





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Bûche de Noël du la Mère de Famille
'Bûche de Noël glacée aux trois chocolats : Venezuela, Pérou et Madagascar sur une nase streusel, amandes croquantes, gianduja et chocolat noir.'

6/8 personnes 45 €





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Bûche de Noel 2014 du Ducasse Beige "Rouge à lèvres Chanel" signée Karl Lagerfeld
'Pour fêter les 10 ans du Restaurant "Beige" d'Alain Ducasse, Karl Lagerfeld a créé une bûche démente en forme de bâton de rouge à lèvres... Chanel bien sûr! Un dessert qui fait écho au thème du restaurant inspiré de Mademoiselle Chanel et qui est composé de saveurs caramel et chocolat noir recouvert de feuilles d'or. So chic!'

Available only on December 24 and 25
Prix: 103 €







*

p.s. Hey. ** Damien Ark, Hi, Damien! Yeah, up to you, but I guess I would recommend being careful about categorizing and pre-judging a group of poets as 'Alt Lit'. That term has never been defined in any coherent way in the first place, and the only thing those four poets yesterday have in common is that they have some degree of presence on the internet. It's getting so any younger writer who pops up gets tagged as 'Alt Lit', and it's all pretty meaningless. Those four poets don't even know each other, as far as I know. Their writings don't have anything in common other than the fact that they all write poetry. Um, in my novel 'Guide' the bands Blur and Silverchair are pretty big presences, and Blur's bass player got raped in the story, and Grove Press's lawyers suggested that I should change their names to protect the press legally, so I changed the names very slightly to Smear and Tinselstool, and that made it okay. Other than that one time, no, I've left famous people's/artists'/etc's names there, and I haven't had any problems. It's fiction, right? I don't know. ** Tosh Berman, Hi, Tosh. Happy that you were excited. I don't know Sakutarō Hagiwara's 'Cat Town', but I will. Thanks! ** David Ehrenstein, Hi! ** Mark Doten, Hi, Mark! Yes, I'll send that address today. Sorry, I'm in the middle of marathon film editing, and I'm even more behind on everything than usual. I'm beyond super incredibly excited to get it! Thank you, thank you! And for speaking to Damien's issue too. ** Kier, Hi, bud. Oh, fuck, whew, about the horse's stepping on your foot. They're heavy things. Yeah, I think the historical context like in the Buster Keaton films seems like a license to some people to laugh at wrong thing safely. Unless they were laughing at how weirdly blatant the racism was? My day was a long session of film editing, pretty much period. Gonna be like that for a while. We did find the guy to organize the footage, so that's good. We basically need him to do the 4th scene 'cos it's not only the most disorganized scene, but, for that scene alone, we shot almost 24 hours of footage for what will end up being a 20 minute or so-long scene. We're saving the editing of that scene for last, ha ha. The eBook-like novel thing progressed yesterday, and maybe soon I'll know when it will be coming out. The editing was very intricate, and we still have a bunch of work left to do on the 3rd scene, but maybe we'll get it finished today, maybe. Yeah, that went on until last night, so I didn't really do anything else at all. Sorry. But your day today surely must have been more detail-friendly than my yesterday. ** Keaton, Hi. I really recommend the Blake Butler novel to you, as you already will have known. Why were you in the airport? Why was the park gay and the airport not gay? ** Steevee, I wonder if that's the Guy Maddin film that he partly made/shot at the Pompidou during the Nouveau Festival when he shot his film there as his project right near Gisele's and my 'Teenage Hallucination' installation project. I'll check. ** Bernard Welt, Hi, B! I'm really glad you liked Mike Young's poems. Yeah, he's great. Yeah, I'm very aware of the horrors going in the US, and the Eric Garner outcome is just beyond belief, not that it isn't just the latest in an unbelievable string of horrors. Yeah, yeah, great what you said. Totally. It's just completely shocking, and it's very weird to see it happening from over here. I don't know. Ugh. Tons of love to you, man! ** Misanthrope, Hi. Or you could do a Moses day or something. My friend is playing him in that big movie that's coming out, and that's most of what I know about Moses, I think. Yeah, you think so about Bieber? Maybe, yeah, shitty parents, sure. I had shitty parents, and, well, I guess I'm pretty weird too, but I'm just introverted about it. I think I would place the blame re: Bieber on the media if I was going to place it anywhere. The shitty media. Is the Potomac pretty? I guess most rivers are, relatively speaking. Maybe even all rivers. Anyway, that sounds fun to me. I'm glad you're on the mend. Do be careful. I'm not supposed to pick up anything remotely heavy until six weeks after my broken ribs, and I am being pretty fucking cautious too. ** Bill, Hi, B. Mike Young's great. His little prose pieces are really good too. All hail the returning hero of your voice! ** Okay. Up there are the buche de noels available to Parisians this year. Well, I left out the boring ones. I've already ordered one of them for a Xmas/buche feast that Zac, Kiddiepunk, Oscar B, and I are having at the Charles de Gaulle airport on the 12th, long story, and I'm sure I'll get at least one more. If you were Parisian or were me and were/are excited by eating a sculpture cake, what would you buy and eat? Pray tell. See you tomorrow.

Michael J. Pollard Day

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'Michael J. Pollard may not be a household name, but anyone that ever saw him in a film or television show instantly will recognize his face. He always reminded me of a kid that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and his face said that he knew no excuse to extricate himself from the situation.

'Pollard was born Michael John Pollack Jr. in Passaic New Jersey on May 30, 1939. He has been acting since 1959 and is still active 53 years later in 2012. He was married to Beth Howland, who television fans will remember her playing Vera on the Alice situation comedy. They were married from 1961-1969.

'Since Pollard was only 5′6″ he had to play youthful roles into his 20’s. One of the most hilarious shows I have seen him in is the April 30,1962 episode of The Andy Griffith Show, when he played Barney Fife’s cousin Virgil who could do nothing right. He was 22 when this episode was filmed.

'Fate intervened when he was cast as Jerome Krebs the weird cousin of Maynard G. Krebs on The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis, portrayed by Bob Denver, when Denver was going to be drafted in the Army. However, Denver soon returned when he was classified 4-F, which resulted in the dismissal of Pollard from the series.

'Once again fate handed Pollard more bad news, when after starring as Hugo Peabody in the Broadway version of Bye Bye Birdie the role was given to Bobby Rydell, when the role was changed to require a singer.

'In 1966, at twenty-six, Pollard played the role of an alien boy in CBS's Lost in Space. That same year, he portrayed Bernie in another NBC espionage series, I Spy, in the episode "Trial by Treehouse", alongside series stars Bill Cosby and Robert Culp with other guest stars Cicely Tyson and Raymond St. Jacques. Also in 1966, Pollard played the role of Stanley the runny-nosed airplane mechanic in the Norman Jewison comedy, The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming opposite Jonathan Winters, Brian Keith, and Carl Reiner, among many others.

'Pollard played a 14-year-old despite being 27 in a Star Trek episode, when he played Jahn in the “Miri” episode. He played C.J. Moss in Arthur Penn's Bonnie and Clyde in 1967 and would receive an Academy Award nomination in the Best Supporting Actor category, a Golden Globe Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor, and he won a BAFTA Award for Most Promising Newcomer to Leading Film Roles.

'Three years later he starred in Little Fauss and Big Halsey with Robert Redford. Another memorable role was when he played the homeless man who thought Bill Murray was Richard Burton in the 1988 film Scrooged.

'Pollard's most important role and greatest performance was in the 1972 film Dirty Little Billy. The film covered the very early days of Billy the Kid, just after the mother and step-father moved from New York, a little examined and very formative period in Billy's life. Dirty, ugly, gritty, too real for many, but an accurate depiction of what a tiny frontier town was like, the film is must, and it offered a "James Dean" role for Michael J. Pollard. Dirty Little Billy is a sleeper that was about 40 years too early to be appreciated.

'More recent photos of Pollard shows he is the same Michael J. Pollard, just a little older. He is still very busy at 73 having appeared as "Stucky" in the 2003 Rob Zombie-directed cult classic House of 1000 Corpses, having released Sunburnt Angels in 2011, having completed The Woods this year, and currently starring in a film called The Next Cassavetes.

'Even though Pollard is not that well-known, actor Michael J. Fox inserted the J in the middle of his name out of respect to Michael J. Pollard. Pollard will probably always be known as the man, who has a familiar face but very few will be able to remember his name.'-- collaged



___
Stills














Angela with Pollard photo AngelaCartwrightMagicMirror1376-2-4.jpg










































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Further

Michael J. Pollard @ IMDb
Michael J. Pollard @ film reference
Michael J. Pollard @ Facebook
'In Praise of Michael J. Pollard'
'Michael J. Pollard Movies List: Best to Worst'
'The Magic Mirror: An Essay of Analysis
'The Michael J Pollard Diet'
'whatever happened to michael j pollard?'
'“That Guy” Actor of the Week: Michael J. Pollard'
'Michael J Pollard As The Boy Who Lived On The Other Side Of The Mirrors'
'I was going to purchase a signed photo of Michael J. Pollard, no questions asked, when ... '



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Michael J. Pollard For President
'In 1968, DJ-turned-singer Jim Lowe (who hit the top of the charts in 1956 with "The Green Door") recorded "Michael J. Pollard for President" on the Buddah Records label. The record, which contains sound bites from U.S. Senator Robert Kennedy of New York and Mayor Richard J. Daley of Chicago, extolled Pollard's qualifications for the Oval Office: "Those who saw him as C. W. Moss/ Know this hippie is really boss!" Pollard himself can be heard at the end of the song: "Furthermore, if I'm elected for President...hey, man! President of what...?" The 45 failed to make the record charts, possibly because the use of Kennedy's voice on a comedy record after his assassination was considered to be in poor taste. (Pollard was just 29 years old in 1968, and thus ineligible for the presidency in any case.)'-- collaged






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The Sexy Flying Machine that Burst from a Cloud







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Michael J. Pollard Flower Power Car











___
Extras


'HAVE YOU SEEN MICHAEL?' (2008)


Michael J. Pollard in 2010


Michael J. Pollard walking in Los Angeles (2011)


Michael J Pollard & Kevin Kelly rehearsing 'IN LA WITHOUT A CAR'


Michael J.Pollard interviewed on 'The Method Actor Speaks' (2012)



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Interviewed by Roger Ebert (1969)




"Hey, man, my wife and I were up until 7 this morning, rapping about things," Michael J. Pollard says, lighting a Camel and taking a mouthful of coffee.

"It's nice to still be able to talk to your wife after four years. Maybe it comes from living in Los Angeles. Andy Warhol's dream city. New York builds hostility. If we had lived in New York, we might not have lasted three years. Well, we've been married three years, but living together four years. I moved in the very same day I met her. No flowers, no Whitman Samplers, nothing."

Pollard is very small, weighs maybe 120 pounds, and wears a cowboy hat, Levis, a flannel cowboy shirt, a belt with a big brass buckle.

"I used to think I was Bob Dylan," he says. "I heard Dylan's new album the other day. Nashville Skyline. It has a cut on it by Johnny Cash. Hey, sometimes I think I'm Johnny Cash. "Dylan doesn't sound the same on the new album. He sounds like, oh, Gordon MacRae. He's about four octaves deeper. And he doesn't look like he used to look. His voice used to be way up there; now it's way down there."

Pollard smiles, and you know what Walt Disney was thinking when Disney promised to make him the biggest star since Mickey Mouse.

"Hey, we're making this movie," Pollard says. "It's going to be called Goodbye, Jesse James. I'm making it with some friends in New York. It's about these four guys on a rooftop, they're going to assassinate these people. This man and a chick. Actually, the man and the chick are going to assassinate the four guys, so everybody gets shot. No, the chick tells the story. No, she gets shot too. Hey, everybody gets shot."

Pollard's eyes widen at the irony of it.

"Then I'm making this movie for Paramount, called Little Fauss, Big Halsey. About two guys and a chick who meet in Nebraska and go motorcycle racing. No guns."

Pollard was in Chicago to promote Hannibal Brooks, his first film since he played C.W. Moss, the getaway driver in Bonnie and Clyde. The title role is taken by Oliver Reed, who escapes from a German stalag by piloting an elephant across the Alps. Pollard tags along as the inept leader of an anti-Nazi guerrilla squad. The film was directed by Michael Winner, who previously directed Reed in The Jokers and two other films.

"Reed and Winner were pretty close, having made all those films together," Pollard said. "And Winner is a fast director. He usually only takes one or two shots for every scene. He's faster than Roger Corman. But for my scenes, he was taking 17 or 18 takes, man. And no two the same. I can't ever get them to come out the same anyway."

Was the role written with you in mind?

"Yes. Well, no."

Some of your scenes seem to resemble the great scenes in Bonnie and Clyde. Like the scene in the gas station where you meet Bonnie and Clyde.

"Yeah. That gas station scene, you know what? That was the first scene we shot in the whole film. And we did it in one take. Then Arthur Penn and Warren Beatty spent the rest of their time making me play against that scene. I guess they didn't want me to seem too funny."

But the scene where you were the getaway driver and you parked the getaway car...

"Yeah. We made that up. See, I can't drive a car.

There was this guy teaching me, but I couldn't learn. So here I was stuck in the parking place, and Penn said, Okay, do it that way."

Pollard shrugged. "Violence. Everybody's criticizing violence," he said. "In Bonnie and Clyde, they criticized the violence. That's dopey, man.

Everybody's violent. They're criticizing themselves. Everybody will realize that in a year or so and start on something else. I don't know. Hey, maybe they'll start on humor in movies. Too much humor in movies. Children laughing too much.

"But, you know, we make such a big thing about movies. Like sex in movies.

Americans can't handle sex in movies. Like this whole thing...you know, these two movies, Stolen Kisses and The Graduate. Well, they're both about the older woman, right? But we have to make it funny. In The Graduate, we make fun of the older woman. But Truffaut, he doesn't have to do that. In Stolen Kisses, the older woman just teaches the young guy what it's all about." Pollard shrugged, took a drag on his cigarette, thought a moment. "Which is what older women are for, I guess."

Pollard shook his head in disbelief. "Up until 7 this morning," he said. "Oh. For years I've been putting down drinking. Last night, I drank. Wine. My mouth is dry. Hey, I'm a paradox, even to myself. Here I am in Chicago. You know those Plaster Casters? Hey, they're in Chicago, right? I read about them. I wouldn't mind meeting the Plaster Casters, I'll say that much. Well, my old lady might mind. But I mean...well, I don't do weird things just to do weird things. I'm just weird, man..."

You mean you really can't drive a car?

"Nobody ever taught me."

But you ride a motorcycle.

"Yeah, I learned that making the Hell's Angels picture. But I don't drive that much. I lied."

A short silence. "Hey, I don't know if I'll call it Goodbye, Jesse James, after all," Pollard said.

"Maybe I'll call it Rattlesnake. That's a good title." Pollard paused. "I dunno," he said, "I may not even do it."

Besides making personal films, what else are you into? "Painting. I paint some. And I write...oh, little things. Maybe someday I'll put them together into bigger things. Little poems and things. And I paint. I have this white canvas, and on it in vermilion letters is spelled s-e-n-c-e. No, that's wrong. S-i-n-s-e. Yeah. Sinse."

What does it mean?

"That words can't express what you feel."



__________________
25 of Michael J. Pollard's 112 roles

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TV:The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis (1959)
'Michael J. Pollard played Maynard Kreb's cousin Jerome, also a beatnik. Jerome was intended as a replacement for Maynard when Bob Denver was drafted in mid-1959, and was written out of the show after Denver failed his Army physical and returned to the series.'-- Wiki



full episode



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TV:The Andy Griffith Show (1962)
'Pollard appeared in episode #2-30 of CBS's The Andy Griffith Show (April 30, 1962), as Barney Fife's clumsy young cousin, Virgil, who stops by for a visit and manages to wreak havoc at the courthouse in fictional Mayberry, North Carolina.'-- Wiki



Excerpt



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James Neilson Summer Magic (1964)
'Ostensibly a remake of Mother Carey's Chickens, Summer Magic has little in common with the earlier film other than the idea of a widowed mother suddenly finding herself in an uncertain financial situation. The Disney version is very typical of the kind of live-action family fare the studio turned out at this time -- pleasant, a little too cute, and somewhat bland. Dorothy McGuire is warm and motherly, Deborah Walley is great fun, and in a small part, Michael J. Pollard makes a distinct impression. Mills' next film, The Chalk Garden, would afford her the chance to better stretch her dramatic muscles.'-- collaged



Excerpt



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TV:Gunsmoke (1964)
'In 1964, Pollard played the role of Cyrus in episode 108, "Journey for Three," of the CBS western series, Gunsmoke.' -- Wiki



the entire episode



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TV:Lost in Space (1966)
'Bittersweet episode of Lost in Space has the always watchable Michael J Pollard, especially adept at portraying weirdos, guest starring as a mischievous boy who lives in a dimension on the other side of an alien mirror found by Penny (Angela Cartwright, this episode a vehicle mainly for her) and "Bloop" (her alien monkey pet) during a cosmic radiation storm. Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris) notices that the mirror has this goat head made of platinum (as well as, platinum lining the mirror), with designs on chiseling the precious metal for possible financial benefits later. Bloop "enters" the mirror which serves as a portal to the boy's dimension, is given a bell, and goes back to Penny, who wants her pet to show her where it found the toy. This leads to Penny accidentally stumbling into the dimension where the lonely boy wants to play games and have fun. Penny, however, is afraid of this eerie, dream-like place, full of statues (seemingly right off the set of a Universal Studios Mummy picture) and "items discarded by others no longer interested in them" (essentially, these are all props probably found around the studio, like a chandelier among other things used to dress sets). Also present is a monster with one eye and husks, for which the boy wants Penny to play hide and seek with, but all she wants to do is get home to her family. Pollard is so youthful and playful here, he really plays his part like a child stuck in the body of a young man, eternally trapped in the body of a teenager, never to grow old but longing for companionship.'-- IMDb




(watch the entire episode)



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Norman Jewison The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming (1966)
'Harkening back to the studio days of the 1950s, The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming brings together an accomplished cast and crew who create a great comedy-of-errors in a family-friendly environment, as well as a film that still offers a powerful impact. Michael J. Pollard, who will go on to be the goofy Bonnie-and-Clyde sidekick, shows that quirky tendency here.'-- collaged



Excerpt



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TV:Star Trek (1966)
'Kim Darby and Michael J. Pollard guest star in this Star Trek prime episode where Darby is in the title role. They are 300 year old children on this planet, a handful of survivors whose growth has been slowed, but not halted. When they reach puberty they will die of the same plague that their parents did. When the Star Trek away team beams down, they all with the exception of Leonard Nimoy due to his Vulcan anatomy all start coming down with what killed the inhabitants. William Shatner has an interesting problem, the only ones who can help are the kids, but they are children and reason like children. But Darby is entering puberty, we know because she finds the grown up captain of the Enterprise attractive. By the way the Enterprise away team are referred to as 'Grups' a slang contraction for grownups. And Grups are the enemy of kids. An interesting episode to say the least.'-- IMDb



Excerpt



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Roger Corman The Wild Angels (1966)
'The Wild Angels is a work of questionable exploitation and the second popular film to tap into public fascination with outlaw motorcycle gangs since The Wild One (Laslo Benedek) in 1953. With a modest budget of about $350,000, and the promise of complete artistic control, Corman hired his friend Charles Griffith to write the screenplay, and the two of them based the script on real stories recounted to them by members of the San Bernadino Hells Angels. Corman shot The Wild Angels in three weeks and entirely on location, at his insistence. His assistant at the time was a young Peter Bogdanovich, who essentially rewrote the script while the film was in production, and the editor was none other than Monte Hellman. Richard Moore is credited as the cinematographer, although it is hard to tell who shot, wrote, or edited individual scenes in this typically communal AIP production. Cast: Peter Fonda, Nancy Sinatra, Bruce Dern, Diane Ladd, Buck Taylor, Mark Cavell, Michael J. Pollard.'-- Senses of Cinema



the entire film



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Arthur Penn Bonnie and Clyde (1967)
'Bonnie and Clyde is considered a landmark film, and is regarded as one of the first films of the New Hollywood era, since it broke many cinematic taboos and was popular with the younger generation. For some members of the counterculture, the film was considered to be a "rallying cry." Its success prompted other filmmakers to be more open in presenting sex and violence in their films. The film's ending also became iconic as "one of the bloodiest death scenes in cinematic history". Michael J. Pollard received an Academy Award nomination in the Best Supporting Actor category for his performance as dim-witted gas station attendant, C.W. Moss C.W. Moss. He also won a BAFTA Award for Most Promising Newcomer to Leading Film Roles.'-- collaged



Trailer


Excerpt



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James Goldstone Jigsaw (1968)
'In this thriller, Jonathan Fields (Bradford Dillman) awakens in a strange apartment and finds a dead woman floating in the bathtub after he suffered an LSD-flashback the night before after being dosed by Michael J Pollard. Finding blood upon his hand, he can only wonder how he is involved in the woman's death. He hires private detective Arthur Belding (Harry Guardino) who has him take another dose of LSD in order to see if he can remember what had happened. Jigsaw is not so much a "who dunnit?" as it is a "how high were they when they dunnit?" film with original music by Quincy Jones and a notable hip-'60s cast that shows off Bradford Dillman's considerable charisma, Pat Hingle's dexterity in reaching his chin with his tongue, Victor Jory as smarmy as ever, Hope Lange once again hopelessly attracted to a crash-and-burn type while struggling with propriety, let alone sobriety, and Michael J. Pollard mumbling monologues while effortlessly exhibiting all the cachet of one of those troll dolls from grade school.'-- Twitch Film



Excerpt



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Michael Winner Hannibal Brooks (1969)
'British PoW Brooks (Oliver Reed) is assigned to look after an elephant named Lucy, to whom he grows devoted. En route with the elephant from Munich to a safer zoo in Innsbruck, Brooks accidentally kills the Nazi member of the escort (Karsten) and then sets off with Lucy over the mountains to Switzerland. Michael J. Pollard is tiresomely flaky as one 'Packy', leader of a private army, and Oliver Reed is not much more than Oliver Reed. Pretty good, though, for a Michael Winner film.'-- Time Out (London)



Excerpt



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Sidney J. Furie Little Fauss and Big Halsy (1970)
'Little Fauss and Big Halsy is an uneven, sluggish story of two motorcycle racers – Robert Redford playing a callous heel and Michael J. Pollard as a put-upon sidekick who eventually (in modified finale) surpasses his fallen idol. Hampered by a thin screenplay, film is padded further by often-pretentious direction by Sidney J. Furie against expansive physical values. What is very disappointing is the lack of strong dramatic development. Redford’s character is apparent in his very first scene; it never changes. It is in effect the carrier frequency on which Pollard and others must beat, the end result is erratic. Pollard is very good in lending depth to his character, though his dialect often obscures his dialog.' -- Variety



Excerpt


Excerpt



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Stan Dragoti Dirty Little Billy (1972)
'Dirty Little Billy stars cult legend actor Michael J. Pollard as 'Billy' and is a tale of how an inept New York teen brought out west transforms into a menacing outlaw. The chemistry between the characters, the balance of humor and drama, and how the story is told, causes my “little grey cells” to dance with ideas. It doesn’t matter that this is fiction inspired by Billy the Kid’s life, or that there aren’t any admirable figures. This is finely crafted entertainment with a scenario that could be set nearly anywhere in the proceeding centuries, presenting the banding of society’s misfits and how each one is molded. This film will be of interest not only to American and Spaghetti Western fans, but to both cinephiles and movie watchers in general.'-- My Kind of Stories



the entire film



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Lucio Fulci Four of the Apocalypse (1975)
'After escaping death and then wandering through the desolate Utah frontier, gambler Stubby (Fabio Testi), boozer Clem (Michael J. Pollard), pregnant prostitute Bunny (Lynne Frederick) and off-kilter Bud (Harry Baird) enter into a cat-and-mouse game with a vicious and sadistic sharpshooter named Chaco (Tomas Milian). When Chaco crosses the line with Bunny, Stubby exacts revenge. Lucio Fulci directs this explosive spaghetti Western.'-- dvd.netflix.com



Trailer



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Jonathan Demme Melvin and Howard (1980)
'Melvin and Howard is a 1980 American comedy-drama film directed by Jonathan Demme. The screenplay by Bo Goldman was inspired by real-life Utah service station owner Melvin Dummar, who was listed as the beneficiary of USD$156 million in a will allegedly handwritten by Howard Hughes that was discovered in the headquarters of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Salt Lake City. A novelization of Goldman's script later was written by George Gipe. The film starred Paul Le Mat, Jason Robards, Michael J. Pollard, and, in an Academy Award-winning performance, Mary Steenburgen.'-- collaged



Trailer



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Edward Murphy Heated Vengeance (1985)
'This is a really bad film, and I mean that in the best possible sense. Everything about this film is so totally inept that it is frequently hilarious. Vietnam-vet Hoffman returns to the country to meet up with his lover, but is kidnapped by the crazy Sergeant Bingo, who has a bit of a grudge because Hoffman tried to send him to jail for rape of a Vietnamese girl. He manages to escape, and Bingo then sends his men out after him, into the jungle. You know you're in trouble when a the cover of a film brags, "Filmed on the same location as Apocalypse Now!" The film can be boring, but there are some hilarious scenes that makes it well worth a watch. I liked the first shot of the movie, which consists of a man firing a machinegun straight into the ground from a helicopter, obviously not more that a few feet above ground. And the bad guy screams and cries and whines like a big sissy, and screams so much that it is, in some scenes, completely impossible to understand what he's saying.'-- IMDb



Trailer



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Maurice Phillips Riders of the Storm (1986)
'A group of radical Vietnam vets become broadcasting pirates and take on a Presidential candidate in this crazy comedy. The vets and their leader, "Captain," are television raiders flying all over the country in a B-29 they turned into flying broadcasting station S&M TV, jamming the airwaves wherever they go. Their self-assigned mission for the past 20 years is to keep the public informed about government activity to stop them from launching another foolish war like Vietnam. To do this they monitor the broadcasts of other television stations and when they don't like what they hear, they bust in and expose the lies. The bulk of the story centers around their final mission: an all-out attempt to keep Mrs. Willa Westinghouse, an ultra-conservative Presidential candidate and strong proponent of the Cold War and military strength, from winning the election.'-- Rotten Tomatoes



Excerpt



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Fred Schepisi Roxanne (1987)
'Roxanne doesn't wallow in misery. Steve Martin's script and his performance allow fleeting moments of genuine pathos without ruining the film's comedic tone. When Roxanne tells C.D. she's enamored of a guy in town, C.D. thinks he's the lucky guy. After Roxanne describes her man as "handsome," thereby eliminating C.D. from the suspect list, Martin plays his heartbreak with a devastating, stinging brevity. And when Roxanne discovers she's been tricked by both C.D. and Chris, rather than emotionally break down, Hannah provides a glimpse of the Elle Driver she'd become 16 years later in Kill Bill. Her physical response is the funniest moment in Roxanne. Roxanne is elevated by some fine supporting turns. The fire department volunteers, which include Michael J. Pollard, Fred Willard and Damon Wayans, are a nice blend of comic incompetence in dire need of heroic redemption.'-- Slant Magazine



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Richard Donner Scrooged (1988)
'In 1988, Pollard played the role of Herman (the homeless guy who thought Bill Murray was Richard Burton) in the movie Scrooged.' -- Wiki



Trailer


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TV:Superboy (1989)
'Pollard is noted for his short stature, which had him playing child roles well into his twenties (including on Star Trek, where he played one of the inhabitants of the planet of children in the episode "Miri") and resulted in a recurring role as the diminutive trans-dimensional imp Mister Mxyzptlk in two episodes of the Superboy television series.'-- Wiki



Excerpt



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Andrey Konchalovskiy Tango & Cash (1989)
'In 1989, Pollard played 'Owen' the inventor of super weapons and a super car in Tango and Cash, starring Kurt Russell and Sylvester Stallone.'-- Wiki



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Michael A. Simpson Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland (1989)
'Teenage Wasteland contains female nudity, innovative gore (there is, after all, an evolving creativity in Angela’s calling as a murderer), and loud music. The directions to this horror recipe are adhered with careful precision, and the film lacks its own, characterizing taste; Teenage Wasteland contains all the ingredients and risks no extraneous addition. Teenage Wasteland is thematically impotent and unentertaining. Though there is a discernable humor in its deliberate employment of horror clichés, the same joke is told over and over — and in its frequency the punch line is less effective with each overpronounced utterance. And the joke wasn’t very funny to begin with. Cult legend Michael J. Pollard plays a minor role.'-- notcoming.com



Excerpt



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Barry Shils Motorama (1991)
'Motorama is an American road movie released in 1991. It is a surrealistic film about a ten-year-old runaway boy (played by Jordan Christopher Michael) on a road trip for the purpose of collecting game pieces (cards) from the fictional "Chimera" gas stations, in order to spell out the word M-O-T-O-R-A-M-A. By doing so he will supposedly win the grand prize of $500 million. The film features cameos by Drew Barrymore, Flea, Michael J. Pollard, Jack Nance, Robert Picardo, Martha Quinn, and Meat Loaf.'-- collaged



Trailer



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Clark Brandon Skeeter (1993)
'A small town in the desert is terrorized by over-sized mosquitoes (hence the rather cutesy title). Ecology-minded thriller is fairly pallid, even by the standards of low-rent B-flicks and monster-genre schlock, with laughable special effects and poor dialogue. Former teen idol Clark Brandon co-wrote the script and also directed--and may have been in over his head. Brandon was lucky to get ever-surly Charles Napier cast as sheriff Ernie Buckle, yet Napier has played this kind of character far too many times by now and can't bring anything fresh to the scenario (it doesn't help that Napier also looks a little sheepish about the whole mess). Michael J. Pollard gets some laughs as a local weirdo, but the rest of the players are at a complete loss.'-- IMDb



Trailer



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Rob Zombie House of 1000 Corpses (2003)
'A cobwebbed, mummified horror entry that makes obvious, cartoonishly grotesque demands for attention. The endless gore and violence make the experience torturous -- and not just for the victims in the movie. The end results are almost strangely devoid of thrills, shocks or horror, other than the sight of not one but two former Oscar nominees (Black and Michael J. Pollard) reduced to such a pitiable career state.'-- collaged



Excerpt




*

p.s. Hey. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Ben. The Dali buche seems to have been a popular choice. Sensible. Given Paul McCarthy's big presence here in Paris during the last few months, I am surprised he didn't get tagged to design a buche, but at least you can buy his Xmas chocolates at his Chocolate Factory show. Yeah, speaking from my current experiences, editing is a pretty intensive and time-consuming thing, at least if you want to make something awesome, and I'm sure Andrew is on that track. Let me mirror your hopes for a spectacular Art101 update sooner than soon. ** Kiddiepunk, Hi! Yes, right? And, yes, fully and gigantically about next week. Oh, we finished the rough edit of the 3rd scene yesterday! Expect a Vimeo link to it sometime today. ** David Ehrenstein, Ha ha, nice. Yeah, it has been very heartening and promising and hopeful to see all the action in the streets all across the US! Here's heavily hoping for no let up and even more action! ** Jack Kimball, Mr. Kimball! Always a true honor, maestro! I mean re: your appearance and re: that my little doings have inspired a sentence as great as 'Gateau what’s his name is done in a tangle of foxglove as they de meadow.' Thank you kindly, sir! ** Keaton, Hey. Ah, I see, yes. Good thing, then. I have heard that parks are a place where gay guys do gay things, yes. Once, many years ago, I even saw such doings with my own two eyes in some big park in Boston when I was brought there by a friend who wished for me to see what gay guys are inspired to do when the foliage around them is dark, and it was most strange and curious thing. You're off to London, like, now, or, like, yesterday? Will you be here when you're there? Shoot me some news when you're hitting Paris. Safest of trips! ** Etc etc etc, I am a sucker for them. I chat with Ira every once in a while, but he hasn't talked about what's going professionally for him of late. I'll ask. Yeah, the 'eBook' novel, which isn't actually in the traditional eBook format but functions as an eBook of a different sort, is an exciting venture. The novel couldn't exist in any other form than an eBook-like form. I'm pretty into it. You mean you're looking into a job working at a magazine? That Ol' Dirty Bastard bio would have to be pretty fun. ** Bill, Hi. Yeah, we're making good progress on the editing so far, and hopefully we can keep it up given our extremely tight deadlines. You like the books one. Yeah, they're cool. There was a better 'books' one a few years ago, which is the only real reason it's not at the top of my 'must' list. The Park-Hyatt Vendome one is really intriguing, isn't it? The only reason it isn't already ordered by me is that I'm not hugely excited by its ingredients. ** Jonathan, Dude, get your ass back here and indulge in them. Or at least one or two of them. Oh, thanks for that tip the other week about that evil chocolate Santa. I bought it. It's sitting proudly awaiting human teeth on Zac's mantle. Hit me up when you get back to the big P. How's everything going there with the curators and the homestead and everything else? ** Kier, K! I wish I liked what the green one was made of more because it is amazing looking. I might cave and get it anyway. The one we pre-ordered is the Herme. Zac and I were really into how mysterious it looks, and how we can't figure out exactly what it is. Also, the fact that it's super limited edition was a lure too. That photo of Ton is a total fake. I know the original photo. It's from a modeling series he did maybe seven years ago. And he's the only great Russian twink porn superstar who's still making porn -- fetish stuff, mostly scat, bdsm. And he looks older, and he still has both legs. Your day does sound really nice. And more wreaths! I want a wreath. I wonder if there are 'weird' wreaths in Paris like there are 'weird' cakes. Only one way to find out. I love the word wonky so your Lukas shrine is only more skyward in my theoretical estimation now. Friday was another day eaten up almost entirely by editing. But we finished the rough cut of the 3rd scene, nicknamed 'the Krampus scene', finally. And now we can show it to the composer and to our cameraman Kiddiepunk, and we'll go back and refine it a lot more next week, and today we start working on Scene #1, nicknamed 'the necrophilia scene', and hopefully that'll go as smoothly as the other one did. So, basically, we just sat at Zac's computer all day with brief breaks for cigarettes and pastry eating. After that I came home and worked on blog posts since I'm getting to that point again where I'm going to run out and need to post reruns, and I'm going to try to avoid that if I can. That was it. Today could be pretty much the same but ... who knows for sure? How was Saturday and, well, Sunday for you? Big, big hugs! ** Thomas Moronic, Hi, T. Cool, the Herme is one first one we've ordered. Wow, yeah, that sounds intense, and definitely enjoy your weekend starting ... this afternoon? ** Schlix, Hi, Uli! Great to see you! I think we will need to keep editing through the weekend. We'll see. We have no time at all to spare if we're going to meet the deadlines imposed by our producers, and we have to. So sorry about your uncle and the strange experience. Yeah, I mean, even funerals of total strangers are really heavy on the head and the rest of the body too. So weird. But it's great that you enjoyed Holland. Any highlights? ** Steevee, Hi. That sounds like a different Maddin film. I wonder what happened to the one he filmed in the museum in public. Maybe it didn't pan out. It had an interesting cast: Geraldine Chaplin, Udo Kier, Charlotte Rampling, and others. I have seen that Less Blank film, yes! Wow, I completely forgot about that. I saw it so long ago that the hippie thing didn't even seem strange or exotic. Huh. ** Paul Curran, Hi, Paul. Some French patisseries do put out buches in their Tokyo branches. In fact, that Karl Lagerfeld one is only available in Tokyo. Tempted? You have a great weekend too! Temperatures here dropped about four days ago. ** Sypha, I don't what it is either. Art deco abstraction? If I find out, I'll let you know. No, I haven't listened to the Sypha Nadson album yet, I'm sorry. I really, really look forward to it. Right now I'm doing all day into night editing sessions on the film, and during the brief times I'm home, I'm either doing the blog pre-departure or completely brain fried post-editing. So I have no good mental space, and I want to have a pleasant place to put the sound of the album. I will as soon as I can. ** Okay. I think Kier watched 'Bonnie and Clyde' a while ago, and that reminded me about the great weird cult actor Michael J. Pollard, and one thing lead to another that lead to this weekend's post. I hope you like it. See you on Monday.

Gig #67: Of late 15: Trash Kit, Oren Ambarchi, Hacker Farm, Deerhoof, Low Jack, Eiko Ishibashi, Jo Johnson, Zu + Eugene Robinson, 18+, Neel, Elvis Depressedly, New White Light, Richard Dawson

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Trash KitBeach Babe
'TRASH KIT have a wild feel for melody, writing songs that pull at the reins with a spontaneous charm. Having formed the band in 2009, Rachel Aggs, Rachel Horwood and Ros Murray have since become the glowing core of London's DIY underground. Their music is primal yet thoughtful, affirming yet sincere, drawing on the potential of post-punk and the naturalism of an internal folk music. Although Trash Kit have their forebears in bands like X-Ray Spex, The Ex and The Raincoats, their sound is very much their own take on facing forwards. Galloping polyrhythms, overlapping sung-spoke lyrics and entwining guitars are all drawn together into a taut unity, sounding willfully alive. Both Rachels tangle their vocals with each other whilst expressive drumbeats and restless guitar flurries provide the rhythmic drive.'-- Upset the Rhythm






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Oren Ambarchi Park It Where the Sun Don't Shine
'Combining threads from rock, free jazz, electronic music, and contemporary composition, Ambarchi's output is a combination of improvised elements carefully assembled into multifaceted pieces that draw from his many inspirations. It's dense, to be sure, and often thick with drones sourced from his unique guitar techniques, but depending on the performance and the setting, it's possible to walk away from one of his performances feeling as though you've witnessed anything from drone metal, to free jazz freakouts, to much more subtle sound art. Ambarchi's ideas have been further honed by his hectic touring schedule, which has taken him around the world and enabled him to acquire a sort of recognition rarely attained by musicians so resolutely experimental.'-- collaged






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Hacker FarmSilver Street
'With Glitch returning to the UK in 2003 and continuing to make electronic music, Hacker Farm were formed in a Yeovil pub in 2009, on the night that Michael Jackson died. "I just remember the TV being on and we were having a drink and Farmer Glitch said, you know, maybe we should do something, and as we were talking about it there were ambulances outside Jacko's house." An intersection between Kek's passion for freeform noise and Farmer Glitch's interest in circuit bending, plus his desire to get away from laptop music-making and sample-based sounds, Hacker Farm were from the start as much about building and recycling their own noise-making equipment as being a band. Music, films, packaging and promotion combine art, subversive intentions and a wry sense of humour that to my mind recalls a less commercially-focused KLF, utilising electronic music as part of a broader artistic statement that can be read on any number of levels. They even make their own cider, emblazoned with the slogan "home brewing is killing music."'-- collaged






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DeerhoofExit Only
'After Deerhoof finished recording demos for La Isla Bonita this past February, they began rehearsing for an upcoming tour. Halfway through a run-through of a long-time Deerhoof live favorite, their cover of the Ramones classic "Pinhead," someone offhandedly asked, "Why don't we ever write a song like this?" So Greg quickly dashed off a song on a scrap of paper, showed it to the band, and they recorded the breakneck stomper "Exit Only" in one take. La Isla Bonita was recorded in guitarist Ed Rodriguez's basement. Situated next to a parking garage, it was perfect for making noise till the wee hours. They recorded live, DIY style, "a weeklong sleepover arguing over whether to try and sound like Joan Jett or Janet Jackson, cracking each other up, one guitarist whose name starts with J always putting too much red chile into the rations," says Greg. But more than that La Isla Bonita is about the eclectic worldwide community that has supported them.'-- Polyvinyl Records






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Low JackFlashes
'"It's going to be quite different, because I'm always trying to do different things, and the In Paradisum guys are really into doom and drone music, stuff like Sunn o))), that kind of sound. I was quite a newbie with all that stuff, and they made me listen to a lot of those records, with the double pedals, mad drummers, and when I heard it I was like, ‘What the fuck, this stuff is so good!’ So basically I tried to make a record with that feel, but with my own perspective, my influences, and using some drum machines. It's probably going to be the most... uh [pause] ... wide and rough record i've ever done. I mean, it's basically death metal with drum machines [laughs].'-- Low Jack






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Eiko IshibashiResurrection
'J-Pop, if the J stands for Jazz. Eiko loosens the instrumental reins and cracks her songwriter's code, writing in two languages to achieve the proper remove from her subjects. You can only regain life when you accept death, and throw yourself into the sea! “In my hometown, cars and refrigerators were often abandoned and just left lying around. I have always remembered this as the image of a landscape that has inspired my music. I have had the image that even though abandoned, their souls, and those with no life, even with electricity running through them, only regain life when they accept death by throwing themselves into the sea. This was the image that ran through my mind in making this record.” - Eiko Ishibashi, 2014'-- collaged






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Jo JohnsonWeaving
'That Jo Johnson once played in Huggy Bear probably bears little relevance to her debut solo album. The standard-bearers for riot grrrl's UK faction, Huggy Bear were noisemakers with a gleeful vengeance, courting chaos and ecstasy in buzzsaw punk anthems that made good on Emma Goldman's maxim about revolutionaries cutting rugs. The most overtly political thing about Weaving, on the other hand, is a dolefully Dickensian track title, "In the Shadow of the Workhouse", and the noisiest thing here—well, actually, there isn't one. Sonically, these stately, meditative ambient fantasias are a world away from Huggy Bear's manic flare-ups. If we're trotting out biographical bullet points, Johnson's membership in London experimental techno promoters Bleep43 has more bearing on the sound and shape of Weaving, which seems determined to reimagine New Age music as another form of techno—or, perhaps, vice versa.'-- Philip Sherburne






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Zu + Eugene RobinsonTaking the Give
'Zu has always been a mercurial and ever-changing entity: unafraid of cross-genre explorations, eager to break down barriers between musical styles. Despite playing traditional instruments, major influences on Zu's music have always been sonic explorers like Coil, Throbbing Gristle, or early Neubauten. The sound of The Left Hand Path is the somewhat hidden side of Zu, though latent in all of its previous music. It's like digging out a box from the earth, containing everything the band had wished to highlight in previous works: ambient and droney landscapes; acoustic explorations in obscurity. The album starts programmatically with the sound of a shovel digging the earth -- a soundtrack for a descent into the underworld. It's moon musick. All of the members played electronics and Massimo focused mostly on guitars. The recordings were then sent to Eugene S. Robinson of Oxbow fame. Zu knew he was the right person to add vocals to it, and to transform the music again, into a sort of contemporary post-everything voodoo blues.'-- Forced Exposure






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18+Crow
'To see the put-on “objectification” of 18+ as negative or fitting into some punk-rock idea of authenticity is not productive, or even applicable to the duo’s project. Giving up anonymity may very well be a logical decision to better represent the contemporary, sexual content/semio-text they’re dealing with. After all, is anonymity even possible? Weren’t we just filling in the blank-faces of “Boy” and “Sis” with real bodies anyway? Now we’re given the opportunity to visualize the proxy between body and image — perhaps it’s the human drive to press the spacebar before a stream-of-consciousness vocal take. The session may have pulled out something dark, sticky, weird, and deformed, but it came from somewhere; and now that original internal material can be appropriated, stylized, rendered into the next-outfit adorned by the ever-changing, consuming virtual identity. At the end of “Crow,” you can hear just that — the sound of an isolated spacebar hit in that liminal moment in between “Samia” and “Sis” — the moment where she leaves the state of mind responsible for the strange, verbal swill that’s now recorded (captured) and now floating on-screen. The ghostly voice was captured, and its reality is nuanced in the intersection between Samia as a user with intention, a subject, and the object of her exaggerated character. It came from somewhere… “real.”'-- Tiny Mix Tapes






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Neel The Secret Revealed
'There’s a large empty space on your record shelf, in between Nurse With Wound’s “Space Music” and Pete Namlook & Tetsu Inoue’s “Shades of Orion”: a gap between the cold, lifeless experimentations of Steven Stapleton—space heard as a largely silent void punctuated by the sudden and infrequent arrival of massive objects—and the romantic imaginings of 90’s space ambient which filled space with idealistic longings of earth. There aren't many records to put right between those two. But now Neel has given us one, Phobos, and it’s both a lustrous and shadowy beauty. After debuting stellar live performances at Mutek in Montreal as well as Berlin Atonal, the time to release an album documenting the material has arrived.'-- Editions Mego






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Elvis DepressedlyNo More Sad Songs
'For the better part of the last five years, South Carolina's Mat Cothran has plied his trade under the name Coma Cinema. Over four albums under that Joy Division-referencing moniker, Cothran has explored the limits of moody, downtrodden songwriting. These are tracks that mine the darker parts of his upbringing and his menial day-to-day to reveal sublime transmutations of singer-songwriter tropes. But the beauty of Cothran's work is that it isn't entirely centered on darkness and futility. For Cothran, it's just as important to be able to laugh into the void. That much is evident even in the name of his onetime side project, Elvis Depressedly. Though his work under the Depressedly banner is largely simpler and shorter than his album-length statements as Coma Cinema, these full-band efforts have illustrated the full breadth and depth of his songwriting repertoire.'-- Interview Magazine






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New White LightDust 3
'Dust is the new nine-part musical sequence and album by the mysterious and extraordinary New White Light whose prior multipart sonic tome Bela Tarr was one of the sleeper boons of 2012.'-- collaged






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Richard DawsonThe Vile Stuff
'There's an episode of Seinfeld in which Jerry declines an offer to go and see legendary crooner Mel Tormé, aka the Velvet Fog, explaining that he "can't watch a man sing a song". I wouldn't go that far, but I sympathise. I have a tendency to relate far more readily to female voices. But then there's Richard Dawson. ... "The Vile Stuff' is an astonishing piece of music – a dogged stomp adorned by astoundingly dextrous Arabesque modes that lend portentous gravitas to increasingly inebriated and self-destructive teenage behaviour. Again, Dawson's lyrics have a Chaucer-by-way-of-Alan Bennett flair that far transcends the prosaic nature of their narratives.'-- The Quietus







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p.s. Hey. ** Kier, Hi! Thank you for inspiring it/me, pal. Fave? Well, I haven't seen it in a long time, but I thought he was really great in 'Dirty Little Billy', which is also the only film in which he played the lead character, I think. I remembering being sort of charmed by 'Every Says I Love You,' but it might have been the Paris setting, and I do quite like some of Woody Allen's films. Oh, okay, yeah, I'll see if I have the gumption and inspiration and materials to make a wreath. Might be too physical an activity for me, ha ha. Was the family dinner nice? Your quiet and/or mysterious weekend had a nice, soothing quality for some reason. Mine, uh, ... Well, Zac got sick during the night on Friday, so we didn't edit on Saturday to give him a little time to recover. So I worked on other stuff, which was good. I guess the big event, which isn't interesting, is that in the late morning the Recollets had a big power outage. It killed the internet and took out all of the electricity on the ground floor and on the first floor. (I'm on the second floor). I kept thinking someone would fix it. But nothing happened, and I thought, Okay, it's still daylight so nobody really cares for some reason, and they're all maxing out their Personal Hotspots like me to keep their internet going, but then it got dark and it still wasn't fixed. Everybody was walking around with flashlights. It didn't get fixed until after 11 pm. Strange. On Sunday, we went back to editing. The 3rd scene got finalized in its rough form and put in a secret place on Vimeo so our d.p./cameraman Kiddiepunk could watch it and so the composer/musician guy whom we hope will score the scene could see it. And we started working on Scene 1, and, not to brag, but I have to say that I think the first scene is going to be fucking amazing. We're really thrilled with how it's looking so far. So that was exciting, and we'll continue working on that all day and into the evening today. That was pretty much my weekend. Wow, it's Monday. How was yours? ** Tosh Berman, Nice that you've had encounters with Mr. Pollard. Hm, I wonder if he's distantly related to Robert P. Probably not, but it's a cool idea. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. When you said Warren whose last name need not be mentioned, I immediately thought you meant Warren Oates, ha ha. It's like a rorschach question. ** Kyler, Hi, K. Cool that you saw him in that 'Bye, Bye Birdie' production. That seems have been his major launching pad. ** Rewritedept, Hey there! You are back! Very glad to see you, natch. Watching porn on a phone seems simultaneously totally weird and labor intensive and totally appropriate somehow. Weirder than filming sex with a phone at least. What's the new job? Congrats on that. Was it good acid? I've been extremely busy in my woods' neck editing our film mostly, but everything's going very well. Obviously, I'm glad you're swinging into a good mood. Glad to have you here again. ** Sypha, Believe me, I'm looking forward to the album. Given the state of my brain du jour, it would probably just sound like static at the moment. I've never heard of Max Carter. Maybe I know him by, er, face. Let me see if I can find him courtesy of google. Oh, yeah, I've seen him a bit in stuff. I'm not really up on porn so much these days. He seems interesting, I guess. Nice nose. I don't know. I don't know who Matthew Keating is either. Again, hold on while I find out. Oh, yeah, I recognize him. Helix boy. Yeah, he's okay. He has that kind of cookie cutter Helix model look. I don't feel strongly about him one way or the other. I like that he's doing or did gender reassignment. That makes him seem interesting. In fact, I just found a couple of photos of the new him, or, rather, the new her. She looks good. ** _Black_Acrylic, That Print Collective thing sounds and looks really cool. I love those sorts of things. I just missed the big annual zine fair in Paris, which sucks. Next couple of days! At long last! That is exciting! Remember that I'm way into using a post to help alert the world to it if you want. ** Keaton, You're already here! Whoa, that was fast. And you already saw the Sade show? Wow. Well, where are you? Hook me up with you, and let's try to meet up and stuff. Welcome! ** Thomas Moronic, Hi, T. Yeah, his bit in 'Scrooged' is really haunting. You good? Good weekend? ** Steevee, Hi. Oh, I think the last time we broached the subject, I said I hadn't seen the new Dumont, but I didn't realize you meant that TV series. I thought maybe he'd made a new feature film in addition. I did see that. I thought it was fantastic! Really good news that you're feeling a lot better! ** Schlix, Hi, Uli. Yeah, other than the missed day due to Zac's illness, it was a very productive editing weekend, thanks. Um, one of the reasons we're working our brains to a crisp on the editing is to try as hard as we can get to the film ready in time for the Berlin Film Festival. Of course they'll have to like it enough to want it. Anyway, we're planning to send two roughish cuts of two scenes in the film to our producers this weekend so they can show them to the Film Festival honchos. Then the festival guys will either fall in love and say they want it, or they'll say they're intrigued enough to hold a spot until they see the completed film, or they'll say, No thanks. Well, yeah, how hard the funeral hit you makes a ton of sense now. That's a lot of accumulation of death and grief, and it makes sense that the funeral formed the overall breaking point. Yeah, I'm so sorry for your losses, man. That Utrecht festival sounds great! I knew Stephen was off to do something, but I didn't put two and two together. I just saw Iceage too, as you probably know, and got to hang out with Elias, who is such a great guy. Were Autechre great? I haven't seen them do their thing live in such a long time. And Wire, yes, so great! They're curating a big festival in Brighton right that I wish I was at, and it includes a performance of 'Drill' by a supergroup composed of Wire combined with Swans. Yikes. That Utrecht festival sounds so good. Really nice that you got to be there. ** Misanthrope, Hiiiiiiiiiiii. I saw something somewhere about people being irked that Moses in 'Exodus' is being played by a white guy, my pal Christian, but that's about it. The film just looks like a bloated snooze fest like every Ridley Scott film of that past twenty or more years. I don't know. That just sounds like the latest semi-arbitrary trigger of the outrage addiction running rampant on Facebook, etc. Yeah, it's complex about the Bieber controversy and blah blah. I don't know. I just don't blame him for it. Whether that's me being contrary or me being reasonable, I have no idea. Well, yeah, the media is an attention-starved psychotic mess. ** Right. I made another gig of new music that I'm listening to and liking. And you traditionalists out there might be pleased that there are a fair number of guitars being played and actual rock/pop-like songs in there, unusually. Or not. Not pleased especially, I mean. Who knows. I'm off to edit a film. See you tomorrow.

Mine for yours: My favorite fiction, poetry, nonfiction, music, film, art & internet of 2014

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Books (fiction)
in no order

Blake Butler300,000,000(Harper Perennial)


Joseph Riippi Because(Civil Coping Mechanisms)


Katie Jean Shinkle Our Prayers After the Fire(Blue Square Press)


D. Foy Made to Break(Two Dollar Radio)


Alain Robbe-Grillet A Sentimental Novel(Dalkey Archive)


Paul Curran Left Hand(Civil Coping Mechanisms)


Juliet Escoria Black Cloud(Civil Coping Mechanisms)


Jac Jemc A Different Bed Every Time(Dzanc Books)


Mark Gluth No Other(SATOR Press)


Shane Jones Crystal Eaters(Two Dollar Radio)


Lodovico Pignatti Morano Nicola, Milan(Semiotext(e))


Cassandra Troyan Blacken Me Blacken Me, Growled(Tiny Hardcore Press)


Mark Amerika Locus Solus(Counterpath Press)


Kyle Muntz Green Lights(Civil Coping Mechanisms)


Michael Seidlinger The Fun We Had(Lazy Fascist Press)


Edouard Leve Works(Dalkey Archive)


Roxanne Gay An Untamed State(Grove Atlantic)


Joshua Corey Beautiful Soul: An American Elegy(Spuyten Duyvil)


Timothy Willis Sanders Matt Meets Vik(Civil Coping Mechanisms)


Lindsay Hunter Ugly Girls(Farrar, Straus and Giroux)


Beau Rice Tex(Penny-Ante Press)


Justin Taylor Flings(Harper Perennial)


Alana Noel Voth Dog Men(Tiny Hardcore Press)


Kyler James The Secret of the Red Truck(Rebel Satori)


Mike Meginnis Fat Man and Little Boy(Black Balloon)


Dorthe Nors Karate Chop (Graywolf)


Laura Ellen Joyce The Luminol Reels (Calamari Press)


Kyle Minor Praying Drunk (Sarabande Books,)





Books (poetry)
in no order

Jerome Sala The Cheapskates(Lunar Chandelier Press)


Lucas De Lima Wet Land(Action Books)


Melissa Broder Scarecrone(Publishing Genius)


Mike Bushnell OHSO(Scrambler Books)


Spencer Madsen you can make anything sad(Publishing Genius)


Joyelle McSweeney Dead Youth, or, The Leaks(Litmus Press)


Kevin Killian Tweaky Village(Wonder)


Lonely Christopher Death and Disaster Series(Monk Books)


Dodie Bellamy The TV Sutras(Ugly Ducking Press)


Tosh Berman The Plum in Mr. Blum's Pudding (Penny-Ante Press)


Mike Young Sprezzatura(Publishing Genius)


D.A. Powell Repast(Graywolf)


Ted Rees Outlaws Drift in Every Vehicle of Thought(Trafficker Press)


Beach Sloth It Doesnt Matter What You Look Like On the Outside It’s Whats On The Internet That Counts (Dig That Book)


Dorothea Lasky Rome(Norton/Liveright)


Mallory Whitten Collected Poems & Stories (Monster House)


Kate Durbin E! Entertainment (Wonder)


Andrew Durbin Mature Themes (Nightboat)


Thomas Moore Skeleton Costumes (Kiddiepunk)


Cassandra Troyan Kill Manual (Artifice Books)


Paul Violi Selected Poems (Ginko Press)





Books (nonfiction)
in no order

Lynne Tillman What Would Lynne Tillman Do? (Red Lemonade), Ken Baumann Earthbound(Boss Fight Books), Bruce Hainley Under The Sign [sic](Semiotext(e)), John Waters Carsick: John Waters Hitchhikes Across America(Farrar, Straus and Giroux), Gary Indiana A Significant Loss of Human Life (Semiotext(e)), Peter Sotos Desistance(Nine Banded Books), Roxanne Gay Bad Feminist(Harper Perennial), Tony Duvert The Undiscoverable Reading(Semiotext(e)), Brian Oliu Leave Luck to Heaven(Uncanny Valley Press), Frank Smith Guantanamo(Les Figues), Pierre Guyotat Independence(Semiotext(e)), Chelsea Hodson Pity the Animal(Future Tense Books), The Yolo Pages(Boost House)




Music
in no order

Scott Walker & Sunn O))) Soused (4AD)


Iceage Plowing into the Field of Love(Matador)


Alex G DSU(Orchid Tapes)


Xiu Xiu Angel Guts: Red Classroom(Polyvinyl)


Holly Herndon Chorus(RVNG)


Pharmakon Bestial Burden(Sacred Bones)


Actress Ghettoville(Werkdiscs)


Guided by Voices Motivational Jumpsuit(GbV)


Katie Gately Pipes(Blue Tapes)


Puce Mary Persona(Posh Isolation)


Jenny Hval & Susanna Meshes of Voice (SusannaSonata)


Death Grips niggas on the moon(Soundcloud)


Objekt Flatland(PAN)


James Hoff Blaster(PAN)


Krieg Transient(Candlelight Records)


Locust After the Rain(Editions Mego)


Foxes in Fiction Ontario Gothic(Orchid Tapes)


Wild Beasts Present Tense (Domino)


Grouper Ruins(Kranky)


YOB Clearing the Path to Ascend(Neurot)


Shabazz Palaces Lese Majesty (Subpop)


Moonface City Wrecker (Jagjaguwar)


Swans To Be Kind (Young Gods)




Film
in no order

Jean-Luc Godard Adieu au language


Ryan Trecartin Comma Boat


Jonathan Glazer Under the Skin


Christophe Honore Métamorphoses


Bruno Dumont P'tit Quinquin


Wes Anderson The Grand Budapest Hotel


Jessica Hausner Amour Fou


Claire Denis Les Salauds


Luther Price Fragment


Shirley Clarke Portrait of Jason


Matt Reeves Dawn of the Planet of the Apes






Art
in no order

Paul McCarthy Chocolate Factory (La Monnaie de Paris)


Inujima Seirensho Art Museum (Inujima, Japan)


Teshima Art Museum (Teshima, Japan)


James Turrell Open Sky(Chichu Art Museum, Naoshima, Japan)


Torbjorn Vejvi Standing in one space looking into another(Armory Center for the Arts, LA)


Robert Gober: The Heart us not a Metaphor (MoMA, NYC)


Vincent Fecteau @ Matthew Marks Gallery (NYC)


Stanya Kahn Don't Go Back to Sleep (SUSANNE VIELMETTER LOS ANGELES PROJECTS)


Oscar Tuazon's 'A Corner Door' Gallery (Los Angeles)


Paradise Garage(Venice, CA)


Tony Greene: Amid Voluptuous Calm(Hammer Museum, West Los Angeles)






Internet
in no order

Just outside
Entropy
espresso bongo
The Quietus
Corrupted Delights
FUCKED BY NOISE
open culture
3:AM Magazine
largehearted boy
NEW WAVE VOMIT
THE NEATO MOSQUITO SHOW
Documentary Addict
Cutty Spot
Harriet: The Blog
Fanzine
Alt Lit Gossip
{ feuilleton }
Isola di Rifiuti
pantaloons
Beach Sloth
Tiny Mix Tapes
UbuWeb
Other People with Brad Listi
Joe Brainard's Pajamas (The Sequel)
If we don't, remember me
Locus Solus: The New York School of Poets
giphy
The Wonderful World of TamTam Books
bright stupid confetti
Illuminati Girl Gang
Shabby Doll House
Grand Text Auto




*

p.s. Hey. ** Keaton, Hey. Wow, you're staying really close to me. Okay, the thing is that I'm in the middle of editing our film for, like, 10 or so hours a day, so we'll have to try to sort some time in my margins, if that's okay. Do you have a working phone? Maybe send me your #, and I can call you, and we can figure it out that way? ** Gregoryedwin, Hey, man! I just wrote to you. Ha, yeah, right now the editing is going really, really well. Some of the other scenes we need to edit will be a lot trickier, but this one is kind of falling dreamily into place, albeit with enormous effort. We're at, let's see, 6 centigrade today in Paris, but I think it's supposed to drop fast and even snow tomorrow or something. ** David Ehrenstein, I just literally can not conceive of a way in which 'Exodus' could not be a huge drag. There's just nothing about it that seems promising in the tiniest. Makes sense about the importance to RS of contributors. I also really like 'Legend', but that film is nothing but style. Okay, that thing you linked to intrigues. I'll try to find a way/a time to read it. Everyone, here is Mr. Ehrenstein with a tip: 'Now HERE is a show business saga the likes of wich I guarantee you've never seen the likes of before. It's long, and quite detailed so pour yourself another come of coffee before diving in. Your mind is guaranteed to be blown.' ** Bill, Hi, Bill. Thanks! Us too. There's so much to do, but luck and Zac's genius are on our side so far. I know, strangely rockin' for Ambarchi. I was surprised (and pleased) too. Ooh, Terayama stories! That does sound most exciting! ** Etc etc etc, Hi. Yeah, it sounds like your friend and we are in the same basic boat. On our end, yeah, Zac and I are 100% simpatico about everything in the editing, so the intensity and exhaustion have a joyful vibe. Actually, you did need to tell me about academe, since I really know so little about that world other than hearing academe-ensconced friends describe their ups and downs. I've only been an adjunct professor for three years at UCLA, and basically all I did was visit sculpture students' studios and talk with them about their work and sit in on their group crits and stuff. You make the ODB book sound interesting with that complicated author psychological bent going on. I've kind of drifted from Deerhoof too after really loving them in their beginnings. I like that track and hearing what their attempt to make a Ramones song sounds like, though. You know, I know I've heard Disclosure, but I can't remember what they precisely sound like. I'll go check back in on them. Thanks! ** Steevee, Hi. Wow, Mandrill. Um, well, I haven't listened to them since I was a late teen, so I have no idea how they sound now. I can say that back then I couldn't stand them. I saw them live twice when they were opening for other bands I was into, and I thought they were super tedious. Like a more mishmashy, exotica-chasing, proggier Santana or something. But, that said, I can't even recreate their sound in my head, so who knows. Maybe I'll tiptoe very carefully into a track or two of theirs and see what happens. ** Kier, Thanks a bunch, pal of mine! Oh, what I had was a Day co-devoted to Lukas Haas and Shelley Duvall. It was ages ago. And I think I only paired them because there weren't enough clips online at that point to do either of them full-on justice. But clearly LH deserves a big day to himself. So ... wait, are you hinting that you might make an LH post? If so, I would die of happiness. If not, I'll make one as soon as I get a free stretch of minutes. Lukas cowboy collage! I like those things you bound and cut. They immediately remind me of horror movies like 'Children of the Corn' and, like, 'Jeepers Creepers 2'. Why isn't there a 'Jeepers Creepers 3'? I really like those movies. B+ is pretty good for frozen pizza. Could there even be an A frozen pizza? That julesbord thing sounds really nice. Was it? Did you like bowling? I really like bowling. I used go bowling a lot when I was in LA full-time. I've only gone once over here with Zac, Kiddiepunk, and Oscar B. It was fun. My Monday was a whole lot like my Sunday. Zac and I sat at his computer editing the first scene from noon until it was very dark. It continues to go really well. I'm kind of totally in love with the first scene. It's like a dream come true or something. And the performers are just brilliant in it. So it was a very happy day. After getting home, I just ... I don't even remember. Wow. More of the same today. We're hoping to finish the rough cut of Scene 1 by tonight if we can and then go back and rework Scene 3 starting tomorrow and then hopefully get to work on Scene 2 and find out if we can finish it by the end-of-weekend deadline too. How was your meal and bowling and every other thing? ** _Black_Acrylic, Cool. I'm ready when you are re: the Art101 post. That Dan Davies thing seems interesting. I've never heard of him before for some weird reason. ** Misanthrope, Well, that's dumb and boring and obnoxious about the casting decisions, but is not the world jam-packed with infinitely better and more important reasons to get outraged about racist manifestations than that stupid movie? Well, I'm hardly an expert or even the slightest devotee, but hasn't Bieber been relatively low key as far as the media goes lately? ** Schlix, Thanks, U! I like the current Swans, and the new album, obviously, since it's on my list. I don't play it very much, though. That live presentation by Autechre sounds so 'Autechre' it's almost funny. ** Polter, Polter, my dear buddy! It's ... well, I can't find the words ... divine (?) to see you! I'm really good, just really, really busy right now, but for really, really good reasons. Living to work ... yeah, I think I do that, it's weird. I mean I think that sounds like a good thing relative to the other possibility? Oh, your comment, your writing .... I love your writing, I've missed your writing a lot! Yeah, I think the last time you were here, you had moved, and there was a friend living with you? A complicated friend or friendship? I can't remember precisely. But if there is any precision in my memory, I'm thinking that friend moved out to be replaced with this new one? We haven't had frost yet. I'm dying for it. Maybe tomorrow, they say. Exactly, true, brilliant, about how people fade in the cold. I was thinking sort of that same thing yesterday when I was up and traveling really early by metro, and it was cold, and there was no sound and almost no one around, and I wondered if that was true or whether the cold was doing a magical illusionist kind of trick. Oh, I was in Iceland for two weeks, speaking of frost. Wow, that was amazing. You ever been there? Wow, very strange and cool story about the tram stop and age-shifting guys. It was spooky too. I'm so glad you came by to say hello. It's always so, so special and awesomeness incarnate when you're here! Big, huge love, me. ** Sypha, As someone who deliberately listens to static or borderline static-like music and enjoys that a lot, I will say that your music, or what I've heard, is not static but rather something very wonderfully sculpted and equally as pleasurable as static-like music. ** Okay. Obviously, today is the day I lay out my faves of the year. Or those that I was able to remember when I was compelling the lists. And now I ask you in return: what are some of yours? If you have a minute, it seems only fair that you would hit me back in this respect, but only if you have the time and the head-space to organize this year's things into a 'likes' category or whatever. Anyway, see you tomorrow.
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