----
Sculptor Carl Andre was found not guilty on February 11, 1988 of charges that he murdered his wife by pushing her from the window of their 34th-floor Greenwich Village apartment. Mr. Andre, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his spotless blue overalls, stood silently and received the verdict without any sign of emotion. As he rushed from the 13th-floor courtroom of the Criminal Courts Building to an elevator being held for him by courtroom officers, Mr. Andre said only: ''Justice was served. Justice was served.''

But as they stood outside the courtroom and watched the elevator doors close, the mother and sister of the victim, Ana Mendieta, called him a murderer. ''I know he killed my daughter,'' the mother, Raquel Oti Mendieta of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, said. The sister, Raquel Harrington, said: ''He might be getting away with murder now. But he'll get his just rewards. Just wait and see.''

The death of Ms. Mendieta, who was 36 years old, and the subsequent arrest of Mr. Andre, 52, was a shock to the world of art. Mr. Andre is credited with founding the minimalist school of sculpture in the 1960's. His works are in the Tate, Whitney and Solomon R. Guggenheim museums. Ms. Mendieta, who was born in Cuba, was lesser known, but her sculptures were gaining prominence.

In prosecuting second-degree murder charges, an assistant district attorney, Elizabeth Lederer, said the defendant's calling the 911 emergency telephone line was an incriminating factor. A tape of the call showed Mr. Andre saying: ''My wife is an artist, and I'm an artist, and we had a quarrel about the fact that I was more, eh, exposed to the public than she was. And she went to the bedroom, and I went after her, and she went out the window.''

Evidence at the trial showed that Ms. Mendieta had consumed a considerable amount of alcohol before her death. There was a fight, Ms. Lederer said, and it escalated in the bedroom, and ''he caused her to fall out the window'' at 300 Mercer Street. Mr Andre later told the police that he and his wife had been watching television before she went to bed alone. He said when he went to bed, he found that she was not there and that the bedroom window was open. A doorman working nearby testified that he had heard cries of: ''No! No! No!'' just before the body hit the ground. Mr. Hofffinger said any seeming inconsistency between what Mr. Andre told the 911 operator and later said was a result of Mr. Andre's ''eclipsing'' events the night of the death.



'Walking on Carl Andre' (1998), by Sylvie Fleury




In November 2002, Timothy Boham appeared on the cover of Freshmen magazine (considered to be the best '18-25' magazine of young gay, but not twinkish, men). In the annual survey in 2003, Marcus Allen was voted "Freshman of the Year" by a wide margin, and again appeared on the cover (June 2003). This led to opportunities such as with Falcon studios. With Falcon Entertainment, Boham appeared in a dozen adult movies under the name "Marcus Allen" in 2004 and 2005.

As Marcus Allen, Boham was on the cover of Mandate magazine in July 2006, apparently for All World's Video. Boham also appeared on the cover of Playgirl Magazine's "campus hunks" issue (November 2006). The Advocate reported that Boham left porn in 2005 and went to live in Denver, eventually working for John Paul "J P" Kelso but only for about 10 days before failing to show up for his job. Kelso was co-owner of a Denver debt recovery business called Professional Recovery Systems; he was a philanthropist "... giving away hundreds of thousands of dollars to charities around the world...." and was openly gay.

Boham had the right look but not the right attitude for modeling work. He didn't like people telling him what to do. He seemed like an angry person. His opportunities were tapering off. Lara Holland, who lived in a Denver mansion on High Street in an apartment a floor below Boham, gave an interview. "Boham has an explosive temper and owned a large collection of guns, including a rifle with a silencer and a scope", Holland said. Boham, who has a 5-year-old daughter, also picked fights over petty disputes with friends, she said[citation needed]. "He got into bloody fistfights," Holland said. "He just had anger issues." Boham told Lara Holland, that he "sanitized" his apartment by thoroughly scrubbing it because a gay man had lived there previously, she said. "He hated (gays)," she said. "He hated their lifestyle."

A housekeeper found Kelso, 43, shot to death in the bathtub of his upscale Congress Park home on November 13. The police named Boham as a suspect in the slaying. Kelso, reportedly often hired the services of male dancers/escorts. Boham was arrested on November 16 at the U.S.-Mexico border in Lukeville, Arizona. He was extradited to Colorado and is being held without bond. According to the Denver Post, Boham told his family that he killed Kelso because he believed that Kelso kept $100,000 to $400,000 in his household safe.

The Post reported that court documents said Boham planned to use the money to go to South America with his girlfriend, he told his mother and sister shortly after the shooting, the records allege. But Boham said his plan went awry when Kelso refused to open the safe, and there was a brief struggle during which he accidentally shot Kelso, according to the Post. Boham told his family that when he cut the safe open, it was empty and "so he had done this for nothing," according to a police affidavit.



One of France’s biggest rock stars was released from prison recenty after serving half of an eight-year sentence for killing his actress girlfriend in a jealous rage over a text message. Bertrand Cantat, 43, lead singer of the left-wing group Noir Désir, was driven by his band’s drummer from a Toulouse jail to his country home at midnight.

The charismatic Cantat first came to the attention of France's music scene almost 20 years ago. Celebrated for his enigmatic performances as the lead singer of Noir Desir, he was hailed as the French Jim Morrison. But Cantat was known in France for his strong public stance on issues such as globalisation and racism as much as his on-stage persona. A rebel with a love of literature, a star with a social conscience, Cantat became an idol to thousands of anti-capitalist teenagers during his years in the spotlight.

Cantat became the centre of a lurid drama in July 2003 when he punched and slapped Marie Trintignant, 41, in an hotel room in Vilnius, the Lithuanian capital. They had quarrelled over a text message that Ms Trintignant, a mother of four and the daughter of Jean-Louis Trintignant, a 1960s film idol, had received from her former husband. She struck her head on a radiator and died in a Paris hospital a week later.

Cantat pleaded that he never meant to kill but was convicted of murder in Vilnius and returned to France in 2004. A court last month approved his release on condition that he received regular psychological counselling and refrained from public reference to the murder in interviews or in music.



Noir Désir 'Des armes'




Tom Melford entered Columbia in 1995. His major was visual arts, and his freshman year seemed to go well enough. With little money for winter clothes, he could be seen trudging through snow in sandals, jeans and a T-shirt as if he were strolling through warm California beach sand. He formed a band called Couchcase and recorded a few songs featuring his frenetic guitar playing and scruffy voice. He also had several cartoons published in the student newspaper, The Columbia Spectator. His cartooning revealed a mordant, Mad magazine sense of humor about many subjects -- designer drugs, Internet sex, infomercials. In one cartoon, a man and woman trade a series of insults and ugly confessions, culminating with the man saying, ''The voices told me to kill you in your sleep.'' The woman then screams, ''April Fool's!'' The man replies, ''That's today?''

Mr. Nelford spent more and more time on his art at the expense of academics. He dropped out of college in the spring of 1998 and returned to California. His mother sent him to counseling, but he expressed ambivalence about re-enrolling at Columbia. He told friends that he wanted to wander the country like Jack Kerouac, one of his literary heroes. He wanted to live the life of an artist, a nomad with a sketchbook. In early 1999, Tom Nelford, then 22, returned to New York City with no specific plan. Back on the fringes of Columbia, Mr. Nelford floated along. He fell in with a small group of students, and spent his summer days in-line skating, writing songs, smoking marijuana and playing his guitar on the roof of the Beta Theta Pi fraternity house, where he often slept in an oversized storage closet. Tom Nelford lived off the generosity of his friends and sometimes bartered his art. Once he used coat hangers to make a sculpture for a friend as thanks for allowing him to crash on her living-room couch. Sometimes he would sing for his supper. His primary response to everyday setbacks was a beatific ''Dude, it's cool.'' His outlook seemed neatly summarized in one of his songs: ''Things could be better, but I feel content. Because what I'm after, I represent.''

In the fall, Mr. Nelford underwent an abrupt transformation as he began to date Kathleen Roskot, the first serious girlfriend his Columbia friends had ever seen him with. He cleaned himself up, got a crew cut and took a job selling jeans. Some of Mr. Nelford's more bohemian friends did not understand the attraction. She seemed preppy, standoffish. Once, when Mr. Nelford introduced her to a friend whose bedroom walls were plastered with photographs of marijuana buds, it was clear that she wanted to get out of the room fast. But the two had things in common -- athletics, contemplative natures and a passion for the music and literature of the 1960's. Ms. Roskot decorated her room with posters of Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin. She stuck up favorite Kerouac quotes. Before long, Mr. Nelford was spending many of his nights in her suite on the fifth floor of Ruggles Hall. After she failed to show up for lacrosse practice one Saturday, her room was checked and her nude body was discovered. Were it not for the fact that Mr. Nelford subsequently threw himself in front of a subway train, dying instantly, his friends said, they would have found it impossible to even imagine that he had slashed her throat.  Did he or didn't he?  That's the ongoing assumption, but the truth will never be known for sure.



Three days after William Burroughs returned to his home in Mexico City from a South American trip, his wife Joan (Vollmer) was balancing a water tumbler on her head as her husband aimed. Burroughs missed and Vollmer, 27, died later that day from a bullet wound to the skull. The death was ruled a culpable homicide, after Mexican police investigated and Burroughs gave several contradictory versions of events. He initially claimed he accidentally shot Vollmer during a William Tell act, but changed his story, possibly after being coached by his Mexican attorney, Bernabé Jurado. The day after in court, Burroughs claimed he accidentally misfired the gun while trying to sell the weapon to an acquaintance.

Burroughs was held in custody on murder charges for two weeks before being released on bail after his brother arrived from St. Louis to dispense thousands of dollars in a variety of legal costs, which may have included bribes to Mexican jailors. Vollmer was buried in Mexico City and her two children were taken back to the United States. Her daughter Julie was raised by her father, Paul Adams, and his family; her son was raised by her in-laws. For a year, Burroughs reported every Monday morning to the jail in Mexico City while his prominent attorney worked to resolve the case. However, when Jurado fled the country after accidentally shooting and killing a trespasser on his property — a child of a government official — Burroughs re-entered the United States, where he was fortunate that Louisiana had not issued a warrant for his arrest on the previous narcotic charge. In absentia, Burroughs was convicted of manslaughter in Vollmer's death. He received a two year suspended sentence. In essence, the Mexican justice system effected a penalty of two weeks incarceration for Vollmer's death.

In the introduction to Queer, a novel written in 1953 but not published until 1985, Burroughs states, "I am forced to the appalling conclusion that I would have never become a writer but for Joan’s death ... [S]o the death of Joan brought me into contact with the invader, the Ugly Spirit, and maneuvered me into a lifelong struggle, in which I had no choice except to write my way out."



'Burroughs William Buys A Parrot'




Richard Dadd was born August 1, 1817 in Chatham, Kent, England. At age 13 the family moved to London, and in 1837, Dadd, age 20, was admitted to the Royal Academy of Art. Dadd showed talent at the Academy and gathered a number of painterly friends, known collectively as 'The Clique'. He won several awards while at the Academy, and began exhibiting his work during his first year. Overall, his style was not particularly remarkable, no more so than any other moderately gifted painter in Victorian England during the stylistic phase now referred to as "The Fairy School".

In June 1842, Dadd and his patron, Sir Thomas Phillips, left England to travel extensively in the Middle East and Europe. Things were going well until Dadd, in Egypt, encountered a group of old Arab men smoking a "hubbly-bubbly", an arabic style waterpipe. Dadd joined them, and according to his later claims, spent five continuous days and nights smoking. Though the men never spoke, Dadd became convinced that the sound of the bubbling pipe was actually a form of communication. By the fifth day, he had deciphered a message, which he claimed was from the Ancient Egyptian god Osiris.

Dadd left Phillips and returned to England, where his family had a physician specializing in mental illness examine him. The doctor found him to be "non compos mentis", legally not of sound mind. Unfortunately, instead of being institutionalized, Dadd convinced his father that all he needed was a rest, and together they travelled to a country village called Cobham, where Dadd claimed that he would "disburden his mind" to his father. It was on August 28th, 1843, at a chalk pit called Paddock Hole, a forested area just outside of Cobham, that his life changed forever. Rather than disburden his mind, Richard Dadd chose to brutally murder and dismember his father with a knife and a razor. (read more)




While traveling with friends and a relative named Will Stafford in 1917, the great blues and folk musician Leadbelly got into a fight in which Stafford was fatally shot. Though Leadbelly maintained his innocence, he was convicted of murder and sentenced to 30 years of hard labor on Shaw State Farm in Texas. Leadbelly served seven years of his 30-year sentence working on chain gangs. After a prison escape failed, he tried to drown himself in a lake but was apprehended. Back in prison, he used his musical talents to gain favor with the prison guards.

While Leadbelly was serving time at Shaw State Farm, his father died. Just before his death, Wes Ledbetter had tried to bribe prison officials into releasing Leadbelly. But in 1925, Leadbelly won a full pardon on his own. Oddly, the pardon came after the governor of Texas went on record as opposing pardons. The governor had visited the prison several times to hear Leadbelly sing, and Leadbelly later maintained that he won over the governor with his song "Please Pardon Me."

One night while performing a song titled "Mister Tom Hughes's Town," Leadbelly became involved in a brawl that left him with a horrendous scar on his neck and left the other man with permanent brain injuries. Other fights would follow, leading Leadbelly into further conflicts with the law. After a fight in which he claimed that six men tried to steal whiskey from his lunch pail, Leadbelly was convicted of assault with intent to commit murder.

In 1930, Leadbelly was sentenced to ten years at the Louisiana state prison in Angola. After the authorities discovered Leadbelly's prior conviction, he was disqualified from any chance at early release. n 1933, a Harvard-trained expert on American folk music, John Lomax, was making his way through Southern prisons and recording musicians when he stopped at Angola and heard Leadbelly sing. Lomax made some preliminary recordings of Leadbelly's songs. Although Leadbelly later maintained that he was pardoned because the Louisiana governor had been moved by his prison song, records indicate that he was released as a cost-saving measure.



Lead Belly 'Pick A Bale Of Cotton' live 1945




One of the greatest murder mysteries in the history of art appears to have been solved with new evidence that Caravaggio, the Italian artist, killed a rival in a botched attempt to castrate him. For almost 400 years historians have asserted that Caravaggio, who painted a number of Renaissance masterpieces, murdered Ranuccio Tomassoni in 1606 in a row over a tennis match.

A 2002 BBC documentary by Andrew Graham-Dixon, one of the world's leading art historians, disclosed that the killing followed a dispute between the two over Fillide Melandroni, a female prostitute, whose services both men sought. It used documents held in the Vatican and Rome State archives to show that Tomassoni, a pimp, died when Caravaggio attempted to cut off his testicles.

The disclosures also altered a widely held perception of Caravaggio as a homosexual because of the large number of nude males that he painted. This image was consolidated in the 1986 film Caravaggio, directed by Derek Jarman, in which the painter was projected as a brooding homosexual.

Mr Graham-Dixon said, however, that a report written by the barber surgeon who examined Tomassoni's dead body provided evidence that Caravaggio was, at least on one occasion, aggressively heterosexual. "Sure, he had an eye for male beauty, but he probably swung both ways," said Mr Graham-Dixon, who is also a columnist for The Sunday Telegraph Magazine.

The barber surgeon's report, made on the night that Tomassoni died, has also been re-examined by experts in the Italian art world. Monsignor Sandro Corradini, another historian who has combed the Vatican archives, said that the document showed that Tomassoni bled to death through the femoral artery in his groin, having been floored during the duel.

Mgr Corradini, who is author of a book about the artist, Evidence for a Trial, holds the post of Devil's Advocate in the Vatican, assisting the Pope on whether long-dead nominees for sainthood should be beatified. He believes that Caravaggio pinned Tomassoni to the ground with his sword and then made a bungled attempt to castrate him.



The Richardson family murders involved the murder of three members of the family in Medicine Hat, Alberta, Canada. The bodies of Marc Richardson (age 42), his wife Debra (age 48), and their son Jacob (age 8) were found by a friend of Jacob on April 23, 2006 at 1 p.m. Absent from the home at the time of the discovery was Jasmine Richardson, the couple's 12 year old daughter. Jasmine was arrested the next day in the nearby community of Leader, Saskatchewan with her 23 year-old boyfriend Jeremy Allan Steinke, both charged with the three murders.

According to friends of Steinke, he told them he thought he was a 300-year-old werewolf. He allegedly told his friends that he liked the taste of blood, and wore a small vial of blood around his neck. He also had a user account at the VampireFreaks.com web site. Jasmine also had a page at the same site, leading to speculation they met there. However, later, an acquaintance of Steinke said the couple actually met at a punk rock show in early 2006.

The couple were also found to be communicating at Nexopia, a popular web site for young Canadians. Various messages they sent to each were available to the public, before the accounts were removed by Nexopia staff. Jasmine's user page (see: image), under the name "runawaydevil", included pictures of her in dark Goth make up, falsely said she was 15 and ended with the text "Welcome to my tragic end.".



While the goth lifestyle can involve trappings of the occult -- with followers preferring black clothes, white makeup, and underground music -- a founder of a popular goth website says the movement does not condone or inspire violence. "It's silly to assume that all we do is sit around in circles and talk about death and killing each other and stuff like that," said Steven Vardy, founder of Toronto-goth.com. "I mean, what do you talk about with your friends? It's the same thing."

After the murders, the local school in Medicine Hat pulled a children's book called Running from the curriculum. A concerned parent pointed out that the goth character might have been inappropriate material for the school at that time. One of the features of the book is having students take a black and white picture of themselves and to draw themselves in as a goth character. The school substituted the classic The Outsiders for the goth book.



Voltaire Interview on 'Goth Murder Madness'




A Polish pulp fiction writer was sentenced to 25 years in jail on September 5, 2007 for his role in a grisly case of abduction, torture and murder, a crime that he then used for the plot of a bestselling thriller. In a remarkable case that has gripped Poland for months, Krystian Bala, a writer of blood-curdling fiction, was found guilty of orchestrating the murder seven years ago of a Wroclaw businessman, Dariusz Janiszewski, in a crime of passion brought on by the suspicion that the victim was sleeping with his ex-wife.

The killing of Janiszewski was one of the most gruesome cases to come before a Polish court in years, with the "Murder, He Wrote" sub-plot unfolding in the district court in Wroclaw and keeping the country spellbound. Janiszewski, said to have been having an affair with Bala's ex-wife, was scooped out of the river Oder near Wroclaw in south-west Poland by fishermen in December 2000, four weeks after going missing. The police tests revealed that he was stripped almost naked and tortured. His wrists had been bound behind his back and tied to a noose around his neck before he was dumped in the river.

The police had little to go on. Within six months, Commissar Jacek Wroblewski, leading the investigation, dropped the case. It remained closed for five years despite the publication in 2003 of the potboiler Amok, by Bala, a gory tale about a bunch of bored sadists, with the narrator, Chris, recounting the murder of a young woman. The details of the murder matched those of Janiszewski almost exactly. Bala, who used the first name Chris on his frequent jaunts abroad, was arrested in 2005 after Commissar Wroblewski received a tip-off about the "perfect crime" and was advised to read the thriller.

But Bala was released after three days for insufficient evidence, despite the commissar's conviction that he had his villain. When further evidence came to light, Bala was re-arrested. The case against him, however, remained circumstantial. Police uncovered evidence that Bala had known the dead man, had telephoned him around the time of his disappearance and had then sold the dead man's mobile phone on the internet within days of the murder.

All along, Bala protested his innocence, insisting that he derived the details for the Amok thriller from media reports of the Janiszewski murder. The court heard expert and witness evidence that Bala was a control freak, eager to show off his intelligence, "pathologically jealous" and inclined to sadism. "He was pathologically jealous of his wife," said Judge Hojenska. "He could not allow his estranged wife to have ties with another man."
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*

p.s. Hey. I'm still in Tokyo, where I'll be staying for something like the next eight days. I don't know what I'm doing today, but it's probably pretty cool and jet lag-hazed. You're doing whatever you're doing, and I'm giving you some murder suspects to think about. That is all.

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1. No one
"No one loved Nico and Nico loved no one . . . she was just alone . . . she couldn’t bear for anyone to touch her . . . Nico had sex with no one."-- Carlos de Maldonaldo-Bostock

'In the documentary Nico Icon, friends and relatives of the singer, model and actress Nico describe her as "crazy," "terrifying," "a freak," "a junkie" and "desperate." But they also call her a "dreaming," "boundless" "pure beauty" and "goddess." Which raises the questions: Just who was Nico? And, in the 49 years she lived, did anybody really know her?

'Born Christa Paffgen, Nico appeared in such films as Federico Fellini's Dolce Vita in 1960 and Andy Warhol's Chelsea Girls in 1966. She recorded a handful of spooky and singular solo albums that are as revered today as they were pitifully unheard and sidelined in her time. She was romantically -- and, in most cases, creatively -- involved with some of the late 20th century's most important artistic figures: Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, Jim Morrison, Alain Delon, Tim Buckley, Jackson Browne, Leonard Cohen, Brian Jones, Iggy Pop, and Jeanne Moreau among others. But she remains best known for singing in the influential rock group the Velvet Underground at the behest of Warhol. It wasn't her voice that got her the job. It was her presence: tall, icy, Teutonic and beautiful. But her singing -- deep, mechanical and heavily accented with long-drawn-out consonants -- soon grew as striking as her looks.

'Apparently Nico was like the Kelippot, empty human shells in cabalistic mythology. Many people in the documentary say there was nothing beneath her surface: no love, no interests, no cares. There was only a wish to annihilate the one thing that attracted everyone to her: her beauty. And that she succeeded in doing, with years of heroin addiction and self-abuse.

'"I have no limits," she says in an interview in the movie, referring not just to her future but to her changeable past. She spent the half-century she lived trying not to be known, fabricating her background and making wildly contradictory statements to interviewers and friends -- that is, when she talked at all. By simply existing as a silent German beauty, Nico became a blank screen for those around her, allowing them to project their own images onto her emptiness.' -- Neil Strauss, NYT



2. 1972
"Nico spoke no language -- not articulately, at least."-- Carlos de Maldonaldo-Bostock



Nico interview 1972


destroymichael: Would anyone happen to know what she is saying in english?
Luna2548: she explains how she met lou and J.cale, that she was really impressed and it was the most beautiful day of her life, that she met andy at castel where she went dancing and then i don't really understand what she means by marquis de sade dances, perverted dances she says !? lol Then she is speaking about la cicatrice intérieur... Before speaking about the movie, the journalist tell her that apart from the vu album, c.girls and the two other albums, she didn't record anything else so he ask her if she intented to release another album and she answers you think it isn't enough? Also, she says she would like to play at the opera one day, that when she makes music she thinks about theatre and cinema and she thinks her music is very visual. it's not a very clear interview, but not only because of Nico, she speaks french very well...sorry for my english...
dragnpop: when she speaks of Marquis de Sade dances and perverted dances, she referrs to Gerard Malanga, who was performing something known as the "whip dance" - a dance with a whip - during Andy Warhol's EPI - exploding plastic inevitable.
esquibelle: I idolized Nico for years as a goddess, adored her voice and unique songs. Then I met her, to do an interview for a music paper, and was sorely disappointed! She was nothing like I'd imagined! She was not too nice, bumming money for drugs, food, etc. from fans. Brown teeth, strung out, condescending and surly. She mocked her fans. She was a tragic figure, struggling with regrets, because she knew she could have done so more with her life.
girlsdocry: I would say he's asking questions expecting a precise answer, which she never gives, such as in the end. He also implies that she is lazy and have done nothing interesting lately. But you have a point : he is very rude and unrespectful, especially when he assumes she hasn't done anything since she left the VU. If I was her, I would have reacted more violently, but she just seem to be above all that, like a queen talking to an annoying servant.
tooboredforwords: she sounds like a man no offence ppl
Rosarie0: How suitable French is for her. It's all so smooth. She's telling him to get fuc--d, so smoothly.
kutkrap: This guy speaks to her like she's some kind of retard or a kid on a tv show, it's really weird..reallt rude, i'd say. But she is luminous...



3. Songstress
"Heroin does make you a colder and a meaner person . . . not so much Nico because she had always been different."-- Lutz Ulbrich



'Chelsea Girls' live in the Chelsea Hotel


'I'm Not Saying'


'Winter Song'


'Heroes' live


'These Days'


'All That is My Own'


'Afraid' live


'My Heart is Empty' live


'60/40' live


'Le Petite Chevalier'


'My Funny Valentine'



4. Superstar & actress
"Nico had no inner life, or what inner life she did have was kept strictly inner . . . there was nothing to talk to Nico about because she had no interests."-- Viva



Nico in Fellini's 'La Dolce Vita'


Between 1970 and 1979, Nico made about seven films with French director Philippe Garrel. She met Garrel in 1969 and contributed the song "The Falconer" to his film, Le Lit de la Vierge. Soon after, she was living with Garrel and became a central figure in his cinematic and personal circles. Nico's first acting appearance with Garrel occurred in his 1972 film, La Cicatrice Intérieure. Nico also supplied the music for this film and collaborated closely with the director. She also appeared in the Garrel films Anathor (1972); the silent Jean Seberg biopic, Les Hautes Solitudes, released in 1974; Un onge passe (1975); Le Berceau de cristal (1976), starring Pierre Clementi, Nico and Anita Pallenberg; and Voyage au jardin des morts (1978). His 1991 film J'entends Plus la Guitare is dedicated to Nico. -- Wikipedia



'La Cicatrice Intérieure' (trailer)


'Le Lit de la vierge' (clip)


Andy Warhol: '[Nico] called us from a Mexican restaurant and we went right over to meet her. She was sitting at a table with a pitcher in front of her, dipping her long beautiful fingers into the sangria, lifting out slices of wine-soaked oranges. When she saw us, she tilted her head to the side and brushed her hair back with her other hand and said very slowly, 'I only like the fooood that flooooats in the wiiine.'

'During dinner, Nico told us that she'd been on TV in England in a rock show called Ready, Steady, Go! and right there she pulled a demo 45 rpm out of her bag of a song called I'll Keep It with Mine that had been written for her, she said, by Bob Dylan, who'd been over there touring. (It was one of a few pressings that had Dylan playing the piano on it, and eventually Judy Collins recorded it.) Nico said that Al Grossman [Dylan's manager] had heard it and told her that if she came to the United States, he'd manage her. When she said that, it didn't sound too promising, because we'd heard Edie telling us so much that she was 'under contract' to Grossman and nothing much seem to be happening for her... We were still seeing Edie, but we weren't showing her films anymore...

'Nico had cut a record called I'm Not Sayin' in London (Andrew Oldham, the Stones' producer had produced it), and she'd also been in La Dolce Vita. She had a young son - we'd heard rumors that the father was Alain Delon and Paul [Morrissey] asked her about that immediately because Delon was one of his favorite actors, and Nico said yes, that it was true and that the boy was in Europe with Alain's mother. The minute we left the restaurant Paul said that we should use Nico in the movies and find a rock group to play for her. He was raving that she was 'the most beautiful creature that ever lived'.'



Nico in Warhol's 'I, A Man'


Nico in Warhol's 'Chelsea Girls'


Nico discusses Andy Warhol

Nico's complete filmography



5. Jim Morrison
"I like my relations to be physical and of the psyche. We hit each other because we were drunk and we enjoyed the sensation. We made love in a gentle way, do you know? I thought of Jim Morrison as my brother, so we would grow together. We still do, because he is my soul brother. We exchanged blood. I carry his blood inside me. When he died, and I told people that he wasn't dead, this was my meaning."-- Nico



Nico discusses Jim Morrison


Nico sings Morrison's 'The End'



6. John Cale *
"Being a living legend is such a precarious livelihood. It’s like being a bar of soap in a shower which doesn’t have any water in it."-- John Cale



... covers Nico's 'Frozen Warnings'


'Backstage at the Roundhouse, Nico sits alone on a flight of wooden steps that lead up to the stage. A black velvet cape over her shoulders, one leg up and the other extended, her chin resting on her hand resting on her knee. Under empty beams and open blue lights on Sunday night. Waiting until it is time.

'John Cale left the Velvet Underground two and a half years ago. Nico left before he did. Until a week ago, the only way to hear these people together was on the first Velvet Underground album. Separately, John is also on the second and his own album, Vintage Violence. Nico has made three albums, Chelsea Girls, The Marble Index, and the latest, Desertshore. And then, last week, a small announcement in a hip London magazine said: "John Cale - Nico, Roundhouse, Sunday."

'Nico goes on stage first, before a large and noisy crowd packed in to see Pink Floyd, who will follow. "I don't know what mood you're in", Nico says to the audience in her unreproducible voice. "I suppose you're in a very peace-loving mood." She begins with "Janitor of Lunacy" from her new album, pumping away steadily, her legs in high leather boots on the harmonium pedal, her shoulder bag hanging from her chair. John Cale plays viola in the background then switches to piano. The combination of her voice, syllables stretched to madness and dropped, and the cavernous repetition of the harmonium slow the Roundhouse crowd down. The stage goes all black except for soft purple and green spots high above her head. The light show flickers down to a single picture, all grainy and glowing. The people stop talking. A great hall becomes a mediaeval cathedral. "I'm glad you like it," Nico says, after some applause. "If I had a back-up group now, I would do the old songs like 'All Tomorrow's Parties' and 'I'll Be Your Mirror'. I don't think I would do 'Femme Fatale'. "I haven't that much of a sense of humor. Back then it was all right. It was a part I was playing. My hair was blonde and I..." She stops and looks at the audience. "It has changed. Now. I don't know what part I'm playing.".' -- Rolling Stone, 1971

*Nico's second album The Marble Index (1969) was arranged by John Cale. He produced her third and fourth albums, Desertshore (1970) and The End (1974). On Desertshore, Cale plays most of the instruments. Nico wrote the music, sang, and played the harmonium. On The End, Cale plays a wide range of instruments including xylophone, synthesizer, acoustic guitar, and electric piano. Cale and Nico reunited in 1985 when he produced her final studio album Camera Obscura.



7. Death
"For one whose life was bedecked with musty glamour, Nico died an absurdly ungracious death. No one knew who she was — just another junkie looking for drugs in the sun."-- Pat Gilbert





'On 18 July 1988, she went for a bike-ride on the isle of Ibiza.  She was visiting again, a bike rider of a healthy-living woman, almost clean of her narcotic past. People found her unconscious by the side of her bike, and took her to the Cannes Nisto Hospital. She was incorrectly diagnosed as suffering from exposure, and she died the next day. X-rays later revealed she had suffered a minor heart attack while riding her bike, fallen and struck her head, causing a severe cerebral hemorrhage that led to her death. Not the thing we expected from the woman who always was living in places the sun couldn't reach.  She remained in fact where she was, her whole life a mystery! Her ashes were buried in Berlin, in a small cemetery in the Grunewald Forest, at the edge of the Wannsee, in to her mother's grave, Margarete Päffgen (1910-1970) on 16 August 1988, with a few friends playing a song from Desertshore on a cassette recorder ...' -- from The Nico Website



8. Fashion model (1952 - 1967)
"After leaving school at 13, Nico started selling lingerie and soon was spotted by fashion people. She later moved to Paris and worked for Vogue, Tempo, Vie Nuove, Mascotte Spettacolo, Camera, ELLE, and other fashion magazines until the mid 1960s."-- mog.com
















See many more Nico fashion modeling photos here



9. Ari (Christian Aaron Boulogne)
"My mother died of too much sun."-- Ari





'In 1962, Christian Aaron Boulogne - Ari was his nickname - was born from a short-lasted relationship between Nico and French actor Alain Delon, who denied paternity for many years. Maternal responsibility wasn't Nico's strong suit. She supposedly took LSD while pregnant (can you imagine the unborn child hallucinating in the womb?) and dragged the child with her in her nomadic bohemian lifestyle. His infancy was spent in New York with his mother, in Andy Warhol's Factory, as a mascot for the Velvet Underground. At the age of four he emptied the drinking glasses of Bob Dylan, John Cale and Paul Morrissey, and sucked on amphetamine pills, mistaking them for candy. Ari became Warhol's youngest star when he appeared with his Nico in the film 'The Chelsea Girls' in 1966.

'When Alain Delon's mother, Edith Boulogne, saw Ari's photograph in a French newspaper, she was instantly convinced it was her son's child. Edith Boulogne [Alain Delon's mother]: 'I said to myself, that's my son's child. We went to see her [Nico], her and the baby. The kid was about two years old. He came running into my husband's arms. We were so moved. I saw my own son in him. And I truly believed that my son would accept him... When he heard about it two years after we had taken the baby, he had his agent tell me that I had to choose between the baby and my son. My husband said, 'Your son can feed himself, but Ari can't raise himself.' So we kept him. Think about it, he was so little. Before we took him, she [Nico] dragged him around everywhere. He ate nothing but french fries, in train stations, hotels, airports. They lived like bohemians. She came to see him once in three years. She brought him something from America. Guess what? An orange. My husband and I looked at each other, speechless. We took the orange and thought, she's really not like other people... but I still liked her. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen'.

'Delon's mother adopted the child, giving him his last name: 'Boulogne'. At the age of 17, Ari ran off from his adoptive parents, joined Nico and became a heroin addict - turned on to the drug by mother. After Nico died in 1988, Ari spent his much of his life in and out of detoxication clinics and psychiatric hospitals. In 2001, at the age of 38, living in Paris, he fathered a son and wrote a book about his relationship with his mother called "L'Amour N'Oublie Jamais" (Love Never Forgets)."' -- Valter, Documents



10. The Velvet Underground
"And with the Velvets come the blonde, bland, beautiful Nico, another cooler Dietrich for another cooler generation."-- from the linernotes of The Velvet Underground and Nico



... rehearsing


'Femme Fatale' (live)


'All Tomorrow's Parties' (live)


'Femme Fatale' and 'All Tomorrow's Parties' are two songs that are very identified with you. How did it come out that those songs were performed by you ? I mean listening to that first LP I imagine that 'Venus in Furs' or 'Run Run Run' could well have been performed by you. How did you, did you have an affin ... did you have a good feeling for those songs, or did Lou say "Look, these are for you, Nico.", how did it come about the Velvet new songs ?
We just agreed upon them.
They just seemed right ?
Yes it seemed right. We never thought, about, you know analyzing every little thing.
Alright.
Er, it just happened, and, or it didn't, because, three songs is all I sang in that group.
It's remarkable, isn't it ?
Maybe for, except for improvisations.
Were the live performances that you were involved in different than the ones that were recorded on that LP ? Was that the sound of the Velvets made live or was it ...
No, there was, there was more improvisation.
Mm. And ...
There was not only noise, but er, the kind of music you can hear when, when it's storm, a storm outside, or that you can hear in, in elementary violence like it.
Andy Warhol's name is on the cover as producing that record.
I mean Moe was the best drummer ever. I just heard her on that song at the hotel that we played before.
Alright.
She had the best drums sound.
She's actually done a good LP of her own, too, sort of a garage record, she plays all the instruments, in recent times. It's really good. 'Louie Louie' and all these old rock songs.
I don't know that record. I saw her three summers ago in Los Angeles and she was married to this woodcutter, that's how he looked like. And she had grown her hair, and she didn't look like a boy anymore.
Right, yeah, 'cause some of the cover photos of those LPs were pretty deceptive, weren't they, Moe Tucker, and er ...
And she's not a good singer. She's only good on that one song 'When you close the door' .
Mm. Yeah, well, she's rough, but she's good. Well, er ...
The tapes she gave me weren't so good, that's what I mean.
----




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p.s. Hey. I think it's Saturday, isn't it? I seem to have thought that a blog weekend centered around this old Nico post was a good idea. I can see the logic in that decision, but, more importantly, can you? I'm somewhere in Tokyo, presumably, for the record.

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Raymond Queneau was born in Le Havre in 1903 and went to Paris when he was 17. For some time he joined André Breton's Surrealist group, but after only a brief stint he dissociated himself. Now, seeing Queneau's work in retrospect, it seems inevitable. The Surrealists tried to achieve a sort of pure expression from the unconscious, without mediation of the author's self-aware "persona." Queneau's texts, on the contrary, are quite deliberate products of the author's conscious mind, of his memory, his intentionality.
----Although Queneau's novels give an impression of enormous spontaneity, they were in fact painstakingly conceived in every small detail. He even once remarked that he simply could not leave to hazard the task of determining the number of chapters of a book. Talking about his first novel, Le Chiendent (usually translated as The Bark Tree), he pointed out that it had 91 sections, because 91 was the sum of the first 13 numbers, and also the product of two numbers he was particularly fond of: 7 and 13.
----Queneau became a well-known name in France after the huge success of his novel Zazie dans le métro (1959), in which he tells the adventures of a 12-year-old girl from the country who comes to Paris for the first time. Zazie was filmed by Louis Malle the following year, when the French nouvelle vague was sweeping across the international movie scene, and the success of both the book and the film propped Queneau to a sort of celebrity -- a fame seldom experienced by writers sharing his level of erudition and complexity.
----Queneau joined in 1950 the Collège of Pataphysique, the group of intellectuals and writers whose zany, tongue-in-cheek manner brought a sort of Brothers-Marxist approach to French philosophy. Pataphysics was created by poet and playwright Alfred Jarry (1873-1907), and is defined as the science of imaginary solutions, or the science which investigates not the laws of Nature, but the exceptions to those laws.
----In 1960 Queneau founded, together with François Le Lionnais, the "Oulipo" (Ouvroir de Littérature Potentielle). This is a group of writers who include Georges Perec, Harry Matthews, Jacques Roubaud, Italo Calvino, Jacques Bens and others. The Oulipo projects were to a great extent a result of Queneau's love for mathematics, a love that he expressed in a series of essays and papers on number theory, set theory and combinatory analysis. He was made a member of the Goncourt Academy in 1951, and died in 1976. -- Braulio Tavares, Scriptorium



Official Website (French)
Interview
Official Oulipo (French)




















Raymond Queneau's Exercises in Style is a collection of 99 retellings of the same story, each in a different style. As a haiku, a telegram, an official letter, a blurb for a novel, a word game, and an ode. As apostrophe, onomatopoeia, and parechesis. It's told onomatopoetically, philosophically, telegraphically, and mathematically. It's even told as interjections: "Psst! h'm! ah! oh! hem! ah! ha! . . ." In each, the narrator gets on the "S" bus, witnesses an altercation between a man (a zazou) with a long neck and funny hat and another passenger, and then sees the same person two hours later at the Gare St.-Lazare getting advice on adding a button to his overcoat.

There's nothing especially avant-garde about Queneau's Exercises in Style. Such playful rhetorical exercises, called copia, were popular in the schoolrooms of Shakespeare's day. A favorite textbook of that time, De Copia by Erasmus, illustrated the exercise with more than 150 variations on the simple sentence (in Latin), "Your letter pleased me greatly."

Queneau said he wanted to do for literature what Bach did for music in the Art of fugue. He also wanted to simultaneously clean up the French language, remove its archaic, stuffy conventions, while affirming its elasticity, its variety, its refusal to be contained in anything so deadening as an 'official' language. It is a little known fact that Exercises is a detective story, with the solution fittingly revealed in the 99th chapter.

Buy it
Read these excerpts:


NOTATION:
In the S bus, in the rush hour. A chap of about 26, felt hat with a cord instead of a ribbon, neck too long, as if someone's been having a tug‑of‑war with it. People getting off. The chap in question gets annoyed with one of the men standing next to him. He accuses him of jostling him every time anyone goes past. A snivelling tone which is meant to be aggressive. When he sees a vacant seat he throws himself on to it.

Two hours later, I meet him in the Cour de Rome, in front of the gare Saint‑Lazare. He's with a friend who's saying: "You ought to get an extra button put on your overcoat." He shows him where (at the lapels) and why.


THE SUBJECTIVE SIDE:
I was not displeased with my attire this day. I was in augurating a new, rather sprightly hat, and an overcoat of which I thought most highly. Met X in front of the gare St.‑Lazare who tried to spoil my pleasure by trying to prove that this over coat is cut too low at the lapels and that I ought to have an extra button on it. At least he didn't dare attack my headgear.

A bit earlier I had roundly told off a vulgar type who was purposely ill‑treating me every time anyone went by getting off or on. This happened in one of those unspeakably foul omnibi which fill up with hoi polloi precisely at those times when I have to consent to use them.


ANOTHER SUBJECTIVITY:
Next to me on the bus platform today there was one of those half‑baked young fellows, you don't find so many of them these days, thank God, otherwise I should end up by killing one. This particular one, a brat of something like 26 or 30, irritated me particularly not so much because of his great long featherless­ turkey's neck as because of the nature of the ribbon round his hat, a ribbon which wasn't much more than a sort of maroon‑colored string. Dirty beast! He absolutely disgusted me! As there were a lot of people in our bus at that hour I took advantage of all the pushing and shoving there is every time anyone gets on or off to dig him in the ribs with my elbow. In the end he took to his heels, the milksop, before I could make up my mind to tread on his dogs to teach him a lesson. I could also have told him, just to annoy him, that he needed another button on his overcoat which was cut too low at the lapels.


PAST:
I got into the Porte Champerret bus. There were a lot of people in it, young, old, women, soldiers. I paid for my ticket and then looked around me. It wasn't very interesting. But finally I noticed a young man whose neck I thought was too long. I examined his hat and I observed that instead of a ribbon it had a plaited cord. Every time another passenger got on there was a lot of pushing and shoving. I didn't say anything, but all the same the young man with the long neck started to quarrel with his neighbor. I didn't hear what he said, but they gave each other some dirty looks. Then the young man with the long neck went and sat down in a hurry.

Coming back from the Porte Champerret I passed in front of the gare Saint‑Lazarre. I saw my young man having a discussion with a pal. The pal indicated a button just above the lapels of the young man's overcoat. Then the bus took me off and I didn't see them any more. I had a seat and I wasn't thinking about anything.


PRESENT:
At midday the heat coils round the feet of bus passengers. If, placed on a long neck, a stupid head adorned with a grotesque hat should chance to become inflamed, then a quarrel immediately breaks out. Very soon to become dissipated, however, in an atmosphere too heavy to carry ultimate insults very vividly from mouth to ear.

Thus one goes and sits down inside, where it's cool.

Later can be posed, in front of stations with double courtyards, sartorial questions about some button or other which fingers slimy with sweat self‑confidently fiddle with.


REPORTED SPEECH:
Dr. Queneau said that it had happened at midday. Some passengers had got into the bus. They had been squashed tightly together. On his head a young man had been wearing a hat which had been encircled by a plait and not by a ribbon. He had had a long neck. He had complained to the man standing next to him about the continual jostling which the latter had been inflic ting on him. As soon as he had noticed a vacant seat, said Dr. Queneau, the young man had rushed off towards it and sat down upon it.

He had seen him later, Dr. Queneau continued, in front of the gare Saint‑Lazare. He had been wearing an overcoat, and a friend who had happened to be present had made a remark to him to the effect that he ought to put an extra button on the said overcoat.


PASSIVE:
It was midday. The bus was being got into by passengers. They were being squashed together. A hat was being worn on the head of a young gentleman, which hat was encircled by a plait and not by a ribbon. A long neck was one of the characteristics of the young gentleman. The man standing next to him was being grumbled at by the latter because of the jostling which was being inflicted on him by him. As soon as a vacant seat was espied by the young gentleman it was made the object of his precipitate movements and it become sat down upon.

The young gentleman was later seen by me in front of the gare Saint‑Lazare. He was clothed in an overcoat and was having a remark made to him by a friend who happened to be there to the effect that it was necessary to have an extra button put on it.


ANTIPHRASIS:
Midnight. It's raining. The buses go by nearly empty. On the bonnet of an AI near the Bastille, an old man whose head is sunk in his shoulders and who isn't wearing a hat thanks a lady sitting a long way away from him because she is stroking his hands. Then he goes to stand on the knees of a man who is still sitting down.

Two hours earlier, behind the gare de Lyon, this old man was stopping up his ears so as not to hear a tramp who was refusing to say that he should slightly lower the bottom button on his underpants.


ABUSIVE:
After a stinking wait in the vile sun I finally got into a filthy bus where a bunch of bastards were squashed together. The most bastardly of these bastards was a pustulous creature with a ridiculously long windpipe who was sporting a grotesque hat with a cord instead of a ribbon. This pretentious puppy started to create because an old bastard was pounding his plates with senile fury, but soon he climbed down and made off in the direction of an empty seat that was still damp with the sweat of the buttocks of its previous owner.

Two hours later, my unlucky day, I came upon the same bastard holding forth with another bastard in front of that nauseating monument they call the gare Saint‑Lazare. They were yammering about a button. Whether he has his furuncle raised or lowered, I said to myself, he'll still be just as lousy, the dirty bastard.




Raymond Queneau's 'Arithmétique'


Raymond Queneau - Interview


Raymond Queneau à propos de "Zazie dans le métro"


Raymond Queneau - Manuscrit "Zazie dans le métro"



Oulipo Compendium (excerpts)
Queneau quotes
Queneau's uptopian dream worlds















Raymond Queneau’s Hundred Thousand Billion Poems or One hundred million million poems, published in 1961, is a set of ten sonnets. They are printed on card with each line on a separated strip, like a heads-bodies-and-legs book. As all ten sonnets have not just the same rhyme scheme but the same rhyme sounds, any lines from a sonnet can be combined with any from the nine others, so that there are 100,000,000,000,000 different poems. It would take some 200,000,000 years to read them all, even reading twenty-four hours a day. In 1997, a French court decision outlawed the publication on the Internet of this poem. The court decided that the son of Queneau and the Gallimard editions possessed an exclusive and moral right on this poem, thus outlawing any publication of it on the Internet and possibility for the reader to play Queneau's interactive game of poem construction. However, two online interactive versions do exist.

Stanley Chapman's version
Bevrowe's version
Buy the book








Saint Glinglin (Dalkey Archive) Queneau has created a world, starting with its banalities: the cliches, the tired small talk, the outdated prejudices, the little points of pride. This world, Home Town, is settled in its ways under perpetually blue skies and under the guidance of Nabonidus, its proud mayor. But the mayor's children, all corrupted by influences from Foreign Town, turn against both their father and the traditional ways. To say any more about the plot is to imply that there really is one. Like all of Queneau's books, this is much about language, both dry experimentation (the entire book is a lipogram--there are no X s) and full of neologisms and quirky style. -- PW

The Blue Flowers (New Directions)The Blue Flowers is the most lovable of all Raymond Queneau's novels. It relates two paralell narratives (or rather - and Queneau is the great mathematical novelist! - base and perpendicular narratives): the historical narrative of the endearingly aggressive Duc d'Auge, nay-sayer to royal authority and public opinion, friend of Gilles de Rais and the Marquis de Sade, and debunker of religion to the extent of daubing on caves in the Perigord region to 'prove' the existence of humanity before Adam; his three daughters, including the defective, bleating Phelise, and their small-minded spouses; his squire Mouscaillot and their talking horses, philosophical Demosthenes and taciturn Stef; and his clerical foils, the abbes Biroton and Riphinte. -- Darragh O'Donoghue

Zazie dans le Metro (Penguin) Raymond Queneau has written a strange but tantalizing little novel about an adolescent named Zazie... she has a New York accent, and the mouth of a Henry Miller. Her misadventures in Paris, prove challenging to those around her,and amusing to the reader. It's a collage of seemimgly misplaced dialogue and eccentric characters, yet is easy to read and laugh with. Zazie is less of a labyrinth and more of a amusement park, a good introduction to this imaginative writer. -- Allen Greenbaum

We Always Treat Women too Well (NYRB)We Always Treat Women Too Well was first published as a purported work of pulp fiction by one Sally Mara, but this novel by Raymond Queneau is a further manifestation of his sly, provocative, wonderfully wayward genius. Set in Dublin during the 1916 Easter rebellion, it tells of a nubile beauty who finds herself trapped in the central post office when it is seized by a group of rebels. But Gertie Girdle is no common pushover, and she quickly devises a coolly lascivious strategy by which, in very short order, she saves the day for king and country. Queneau's wickedly funny send-up of cheap smut—his response to a popular bodice-ripper of the 1940s—exposes the link between sexual fantasy and actual domination while celebrating the imagination's power to transmute crude sensationalism into pleasure pure and simple.

The Flight of Icarus (New Directions) Hubert, a writer, has lost the main character to the novel he is, well was, writing. After viciously accusing friends and fellow writers of stealing Icarus, he hires the detective Morcol, "who has appeared in many novels under different names," to find him. Soon we meet Icarus, who is only 15 pages old and on his own in 1890 Paris, and begin to see the formation from what Hubert designed, to a real character through his first experience with absinthe, his girlfriend LN, his love of automobiles and bicycles, and his love of flying machines. -- Jeff O. ----




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p.s. Hey from Tokyo theoretically where I'm probably less jet-lagged now and have something of an initial grip on this undoubtedly wondrous city. Speaking of wondrous, Raymond Queneau is your topic and entertainment du jour. Nice, right? I hope you're all doing really well.

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I was doing some research recently for a piece of fiction that I was thinking about doing in the future, about a character who wrote fan fiction on the internet. I read through some of the various slash fiction sites that are scattered around the web for ideas. I remembered that a good friend of mine once said that when she was younger, she wrote fan fiction about the band Hanson. So I asked if I could interview her about the motivations behind writing that particular type of thing, it’s place in her life at the time and teenage obsessions. I find anything related to obsessions and fandom really interesting so I thought I’d post the piece here.

Also, this piece is dedicated to my friend and distinguished local, the incredible artist, Aspen Michael Taylor aka Kiddiepunk. He’s used Hanson as inspiration and muse for various pieces of his work, so I thought he might dig this.

Enjoy, TM x





So how did you get into fan fiction?

I stumbled onto it, I mean, gosh, it was the birth of the internet really, like 1996 maybe, 1997.

So you were 13, 14 or something at the time?

Yeah. My parents had just got AOL at the house, and so I was learning about chatrooms and all those things and I was just curious.

Did you read other people’s fan fiction before you did your own? Is that what made you first think about writing some?

Yeah. It was all the same kinda genre. It mean, it was all Hanson orientated. I didn’t read about other subjects. It started in May 1997 when I was in my 8th Grade Social Studies class. It was the very end of school, and we were all kinda restless and that’s why we were able to put on MTV, in the classrooms, ha.

You mean it was the end of term?

Yeah, because in Texas we finish at the end of May. And so it was the end of May and MMMbop came on and I remember just really liking it and thinking that the boys were cute and everyone else was making fun of them and saying that they were girls, and I was just like “why are you saying that? They are not!” Hehe. I just really liked them. That’s when I took an interest.





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p.s. Hey. Thomas Moronic is filling in for me today via time machine. Maybe he'll be around albeit surprised by my cavalier reposting of this years-old post he made and would like to hear what you think of it. That's your hint and cue. I'm in Tokyo, assuming something unforeseen hasn't happened.

----
If somebody who’s never heard us says to me, ‘Oh you play in a metal band, I know exactly what you sound like,’ I can say in all confidence, ‘I’m not sure. I’m not sure that you do.’”

------- Mårten Hagström, guitarist for Meshuggah




Meshuggah formed in Umeå, Sweden in 1987. In 1995, their second full length record, Destroy Erase Improve, completely reinvented the genre and is generally considered to be a masterpiece. I agree. When I first heard it in 1999, I knew I had found something really great. They have continued to produce extremely wonderful, innovative and confounding records ever since. They are one of those bands that I truly love but had never seen live, until February 5, 2009, when they played Slim’s in San Francisco. I went with my friend Niko Wenner, guitarist for Oxbow, which also happens to be my favorite band. So it was sort of perfect storm of my overly-enthusiastic fan-boydom. What follows are some blurry photos I took at the show, some of my own thought about Meshuggah, photos of the band taken by other people, clips of Meshuggah playing live, and some bits of interesting writing about the band.




"There's as much rhythmic obsessiveness and intricacy in the relentless polyrhythms of Swedish metal maestros Meshuggah as there is in Reich or Ligeti – with the difference that Meshuggah use the supreme technical sophistication and overpowering volume of their 5-in-the-time-of-4 patterns to serve rather different expressive ends: Terminal Illusions as opposed to Different Trains".  - Tom Service from guardian.co.uk





It's like a post-millennial, metal portrait of the collapse of one's mind, the words and images adding the final blow to what is an all-out assault of a composition. Monstrous, prodigious, apocalyptic, "I" is quintessential Meshuggah, and some absolutely vital 21st century metal. - Adrien Begrand - Popmatters.com





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p.s. Hey. And today your guest host is none other than the superb artist and d.l. Brendan Lott, who was going by the moniker Blendin when this post was made and originally presented to you. No arguing with the greatness of Meshuggah, although I guess you can try, if you want. Yes, I'm still in Tokyo, or I suppose so, and I will be here for more or less 24 more hours.

----
you
masochist
hazy transactions
in the dark
an amateur
is all you are

to spend
most of your life
forgotten

to fit in nowhere
to be a permanent exile
to be ‘intensely ironic
and therefore
intensely difficult’
to wind up
in one of the dullest places
under heaven

to be as much monster
as victim

events and experiences
repeat themselves
split into selves
eyes overcast
on a shrouded sea
of regret

She’s perfect if you’re alone, disenfranchised, dislocated, devolving, displaced. Because she could write it clearly, she could transmit it down the wire. Her stories are pure melancholy, the beauty of pure pain. What you put yourself through. She wrote the beauty of the THUD, the reality drop of emptiness when you want to shroud it in a dream. If they had a taste, they really would be the darkest chocolate, verging on bitterness.

Anyone who knows her work knows how a Jean Rhys novel or story will end. There are no happy endings, ever. The heroine is defeated and fully aware of it before, during, and after. And she rarely fights back, or does it when it’s too late. She’s naive, or deliberately ignorant. She’s irreparably damaged, a horror.

I promised Dennis this Day more than a year ago. And every time I began it, I had to stop almost immediately afterward. It was never right. My point was, I wanted to compel people to read Rhys who’d never heard of her before. I could never do right by her work, it seemed. And I still haven’t, either. But I’d made a promise to finish this. I wanted to try, because I hate broken promises. They look shitty on everyone.

There are some fantastic studies of Rhys. I don’t want this piece to mimic them, although I’ve read them and they’ve helped to clarify some of my own unfinished bits. There’s also a good biography of her, and an incomplete autobiography. You can read them, if you find she catches hold of you.

______________________________________________________________________________________


Rhys was very much like the heroines of her novels and stories, but to say that every story and novel that she wrote was completely autobiographical is inaccurate. What is true: She was a failed vaudevillian dancer and clothes model whose affairs and marriages all ended badly. She was the daughter of white Welsh colonialists, who grew up in Dominica and who endured reverse racial discrimination from the native Dominicans, who she’d hoped might embrace her more warmly than her own family did. She spent nearly all of her adult life barely scraping by. She was Ford Madox Ford’s lover, the third person in a twisted ménages a trois created between Ford and his common-law wife, the painter Stella Bowen. What is also true: All of these aspects of her life are either key features or plot lines in her work.

What is not completely true: She learned from her mistakes and her novels were a way of refining herself, protecting herself. She never really learned, and whether this was due to the fact that she knew better and didn’t care enough, or knew better but found her instincts too strong to avert disaster, is a matter of debate. But her novels were everything she herself wasn’t: precise and perfect.

Gone, and she was caught in this appalling muddle. Life was like that. Here you are, it said, and then immediately afterwards, Where are you? Her life, at any rate, had always been like that.

(Quartet, Chapter 12)

I found Rhys when I was 15, via a thick book inexplicably left on the shelf in my reading class. My teacher claimed to have no idea how it got there. Doubling as an English teacher and one of the school’s football coaches, he knew nothing of her work.

The book was a thick one, like a textbook. Paperback. Red and white lettering on its black spine: JEAN RHYS: THE COMPLETE NOVELS. I pulled it out of the shelf and stared at its cover, on which was the photograph “Lovers, Place d’Itale” by Brassai. I was mesmerized. I had never held in my hands anything like this book looked. I had no idea what was inside.



What that book contained was a style that was beautifully sophisticated and at the same time stripped of all pretension. It contained the ultimate outsider’s worldview. It embodied everything that meant being utterly alone and fucked. There were five novels hidden within its covers, and not one of them diverted from this course. I read each one slowly, and as I did a dark clarity slammed into me again and again. When I finished the last one, I wanted to know: Who was this person, that she could write like this? And what the fuck had she done to me? How did she know these things?


Diana Athill: “In the years when I knew Jean Rhys... she often spoke about how much she wanted to ‘get things right’: to be as true as possible in her writing to place, speech, mood, the taste and texture of experience, and to achieve this precision without... ‘any stunts’.... The stuntlessness of her style is its great beauty. She fell in love with words as a child, but she never used them rhetorically, to show them off. I have sometimes thought that the way she wrote resembled the way a cat moves. Her language does what it needs to do with an elegance and economy which is perfectly natural and easy... or rather, easy-seeming.

“You cannot get something right unless you have a thorough knowledge of it. Jean was a conscious and dedicated artist who wrote novels, not a woman displaying, or brooding over, her own experience in the form of autobiography, but she never denied that the material for her novels came from her own life.... She thought-- or said-- that she chose to use it because it was the only thing she knew well, but she was not really choosing, she was following her nature. She could not have done anything else, being a deeply self-absorbed person who was also honest.”



Rhys was born on the island of Dominica in 1890 as Ella Gwendolen Rees Williams. She studied drama at the Royal Academy in London and later flopped as a chorus girl. Abandoned, with no real family nearby to fall back on, she posed nude for an artist and was, in succession afterwards, a volunteer canteen worker and office clerk. She married a Dutch-French journalist in 1919 and wandered through Paris, Vienna, and London with him, until his arrest for bigamy and for selling foreign currency illegally. And that was when she met Ford Madox Ford, a well-known writer in his time, and began an affair with him, and also began to write. She went through three husbands in total, a lot of seedy boarding houses and hotel rooms and liquor bottles, and ended her days in the countryside in England, difficultly sweet and complicated until the last.

______________________________________________________________________________________


Rhys is best known for Wide Sargasso Sea, a real masterpiece and prequel to Jane Eyre, which tells the story of the original madwoman-in-the-attic, Bertha Rochester, in her own words. In it, Rhys was able to use her own experience of the Caribbean to give this minor character, who in Austen’s hands amounted to nothing more than a device to divide her heroine from her object of affection, into a symbol of the irreparable damage of colonization. Feminists and scholars have high regard for the novel, and its publication swept Rhys out of obscurity and poverty. It was the last novel she ever wrote.

But I don’t want to dwell on WSS. Great as it is, it’s a culmination. The apex and the end. I want you to know about the other novels, the ones that languished in out-of-print status for decades, the ones that show just as much brilliance, the ones that were such a revelation to me at 15.

______________________________________________________________________________________


You Think I Want More Than I Do: Voyage in the Dark -(Anna’s dream as nightmare)

Anna is a displaced girl from the Caribbean, practically alone in England and with lousy prospects, who falls into an affair with a proper young man who beds and abandons her. She’s the embodiment of inarticulation, an uprooted beauty who’s never been at home anywhere-- not even at home, where she hated being white but couldn’t find a place among the Creoles, either.

Her impression of stepping onto England’s shores is the beginning of the novel, “...as if a curtain had fallen, hiding everything I had ever known. It was almost like being born again. The colours were different, the smells different, the feeling things gave you right down inside yourself was different. Not just the difference between heat, cold; light, darkness; purple, grey. But a difference in the way I was frightened and the way I was happy... I couldn’t get used to the cold.”

Anna’s feelings about England never really change; she never adapts. She never adapts to the codes and etiquette of affairs, nor to her status as a shabby little chorus girl who will eventually wind up on the abortionist’s table. She begins on shaky legs and ends with smashed kneecaps, stranded in a country where she imagines everything as artifice in a dream-- the streets are all the same, a fire in the fireplace seems “painted”. And as the novel progresses, and she continues her fall, she finds herself longing for objects and things to fill a void and halt anger in her that she doesn’t truly sense, let alone understand; a really fine example of this is when her lover gives her a bracelet, and she imagines it as a knuckleduster.

When the lover disengages, and she sees the end of the relationship coming, she resists it. He’s full of reproach, trying to extricate himself from what he sees now as a distasteful girl who wants everything from him. And the only thing she can say, inadequately, is, “The thing is that you don’t understand. You think that I want more than I do....” Which doesn’t communicate what she wants or thinks or needs half well enough to persuade him to see her again.

The ending is a cynical slap, at the same time allowing Anna to keep her dream state via a lot of gin, legs spread for an abortion while the gloved doctor hovering above says, “You girls are too naive to live, aren’t you?”

Laurie laughed. I listened to them both laughing and their voices going up and down.
----“She’ll be all right,” he said. “Ready to start all over again in no time, I’ve no doubt.”
----When their voices stopped the ray of light came in again under the door like the last thrust of remembering before everything is blotted out. I lay and watched it and thought about starting all over again. And about being new and fresh. And about mornings, and misty days, when anything might happen. And about starting all over again, all over again....

______________________________________________________________________________________


Genital Games = Self-Preservation: Quartet-(Marya as victim turned co-conspirator)

“You forced me to share you for months,” said Marya, “for months. Openly and ridiculously. You used your wife to torture me with.”
He answered coldly: “I don’t know what you mean.”
And she saw that it was true.

Originally called Postures, which brings to mind both the gymnastics of trying to maintain emotional control in public and sexual positions, this novel takes most of its form from Rhys’ nasty affair with Ford Madox Ford, under the nose of his wife, the painter Stella Bowen. The affair and friendships between them all ended badly, but Rhys was able to take the wreckage and create an incredibly, psychologically true and devastating piece of fiction:

After her husband’s arrest in Paris for shady dealings, Marya (her name means “bitter”) finds herself stranded with no money and very quickly falling apart. (A taxi driver even sees it at a glance, calling to her one evening, “Hey, little one. Is it for tonight the suicide?”) Acquaintances Hugh and Lois Heidler, artists of the Montparnasse set, offer her a place stay and friendship... which devolves nearly as quickly into a jealous menagés a trois as Lois complicitly orchestrates a seduction between her husband and their guest. As they use her and corrupt her for their enjoyment, Lois slowly begins to realize that Marya is no longer their toy; she willingly becomes a participant in not only the relationship but an emotionally jealous co-conspirator, which sets her dead against Lois.

Hugh Heidler is the first real masochistic lover in Rhys’ collection of characters: Absolutely a manipulator, a pervert disguised as a pillar of his social set, he creeps into Marya’s room and watches her sleep and at first lavishes attention on her, only to pull back the moment she drops her cold reserve and reciprocates. As her allegiance to her husband vanishes, Heidler sees it and turns hostile.

She collapsed on to the bed and lay there breathing loudly and quickly as if she had been running. He stood looking down at her.... Her head had dropped backwards over the edge of the bed and from that angle her face seemed strange to him: the cheekbones looked higher and more prominent, the nostrils wider, the lips thicker. A strange little Kalmuck face.
----He whispered: “Open your eyes, savage. Open your eyes, savage.”
----She opened her eyes and said: “I love you, I love you, I love you. Oh, please be nice to me. Oh, please, say something nice to me. I love you.” She was quivering and abject in his arms, like some unfortunate dog abasing itself before its master.

Heidler was saying in a low voice: “I have a horror of you. When I think of you I feel sick.”

Quartet has some kind of emotional distance between its characters. Coldness pervades it and grows with each page. And along with it, there’s this central character who willingly goes to the gallows with hardly any protest. Marya is full of rage, dependency, and trauma. Her lips are constantly trembling and the only thing that seems to traumatize her more than the Heidlers is the awareness that she could easily be left behind in some shitty, dusty-smelling hotel room or boarding house, left to rot now that her corruption’s been completed. What’s especially stomach-turning is how, when you’re permitted a glimpse of Marya’s unchecked thoughts, she’s only thinking of how lost she was before Heidler. And how “happy” she is with him, “without thought for perhaps the first time in her life. No past. No future. Nothing but the present....”

There are lots of novelists who’ve written about how sick we can be in love, lust, and debasement. But Rhys captures it so well, and she did it long before any of the postmodernist renditions.

______________________________________________________________________________________





*

p.s. Hey. And continuing this stint of consecutive old guest-hosted posts, the great and much missed of late Mieze did this Jean Rhys post back when, and Rhys is a god, so rerunning it was a no brainer decision. Enjoy. Me, I should be either on my way to or newly in Hakone, Japan, which is kind of nearish to Mt. Fuji and supposedly has a lot of amazing thermal baths and such.

----


November 22, 1993: 'Porn superstar Christopher Lance (The Young and the Hung, Inch By Inch, Passion of the Crack, Screamin' for Semen, Eat a Dick Til You Hiccup, a.o.) was stabbed to death in Dallas, Texas by an unknown assailant during what was described by witnesses as a lover's quarrel. In a strange coincidence, Lance, whose real name was John Kennedy, was pronounced dead in the same hospital room and on the same day that President John F. Kennedy had been pronounced dead thirty years before.' -- ifad.com











Devon Renfro: It has been brought to my attention that the information previously posted in this spot about the demise of the porn star Devon Renfro was incorrect and based on spurious, unproven gossip and involved no facts whatsoever. It was copied and pasted from another website, and it seems that I inadvertently spread false information about Devon Renfro that has caused confusion, hurt, and that has now been used/repeated by at least one other website as evidence of some nefarious business around Renfro's death. The information in the entry on Devon Renfro was completely incorrect. I have removed it, and I urge anyone reading this to disavow any information that originated here. It was entirely false. -- Dennis Cooper, February 3, 2011






'At first, Sean Lockhart didn't get it. Here he was, at the luxurious Le Cirque restaurant in Las Vegas, sitting with three fellow gay-porn stars, one of whom would eventually tell State Police about the meeting. They were on the verge of a deal - a big deal. If it worked, it might make them rich. Might even make them $1 million. Or so they imagined. But there was a catch: Lockhart was caught in a messy contract dispute with a porn producer in Pennsylvania named Bryan Kocis.











Ted Cox (real name Michael Kelley) was a gay pornographic actor who made movies primarily in the 1980s and 1990s, primarily for Vivid Video. Cox provided a youthful look, and featured a bulldog tattoo on his right shoulder. His videography included Boys on the Block, Pay to Play and Sweet Meat Lost Innocence. He gained notoriety offscreen in 1991 when he was charged with the murder of an older male friend, Michael Frank, in New York City. Cox and Frank had supper together the night before Frank was found dead, having been stabbed 22 times. After spending over a year at Rikers Island prison awaiting trial, he was acquitted having successfully put forth an alibi defense. Following his release, Cox returned to the gay porn video scene, adorned by many more tattoos. His most successful video, Courting Libido, was set in a prison.



'Tim Barnett (born Bradford Thomas Wagner in Bismarck, North Dakota) was an American pornographic actor who appeared in forty-three gay and bisexual pornographic movies between 1993 and 2000. An Officer and His Gentlemen (1995) was his most popular. Following his exit from pornographic films, Wagner worked as a part-time snowboard instructor, and then as a real estate agent in Aspen, Colorado. He was arrested in June 2004 as a suspect in the rapes of five women between 1993 and 1998 at the Tantra Lake and Bridgewalk apartment complexes in Boulder, Colorado, an unsolved 1994 rape case in Lakewood, Colorado, and another in 1995 in Austin, Texas. According to law enforcement officials, DNA evidence linked him to the crimes. Wagner hanged himself with a bed sheet in his jail cell in Boulder, and died July 13, 2005.' -- Wikipedia



Hollywood, California: On October 28, 1990, the head and feet of William Newton were found in a dumpster in an alley behind Santa Monica Blvd. in West Hollywood, Calif. Newton, a gay man, was also known as porn star Billy London. He did gay video work such as: Bulge: Mass Appeal, Hard Choices, Head of the Class, Hot Wired, Imperfect Strangers, and Sex Drive 2020. His gruesome murder was never solved.




Jupiter, Florida; December 8, 2007: A gay porn star caught up in the mysterious death of New York hedge-fund millionaire Seth Tobias broke his silence Friday night and insisted he's clueless about the case. "I'm happy to talk with the police," said blond dancer and porn star Christopher Dauenhauer, who uses the stage name Tiger. The 31-year-old dancer and porn star - who has tiger stripes tattooed on his muscular body - said he hadn't been in touch with the Tobiases and isn't sure he ever met them.

"This guy may have had a fantasy about me," he said. "Maybe during his drug binges, he got into this frame of mind where he built our meeting into a relationship. Or maybe he'd seen one of my videos," he added, referring to porn flicks like Roar of the Tiger. Tiger said he performed at the gay club Cupids - where a bartender claims Tobias and his wife got lap dances - from 1999 to 2002. But a photo of the moneyman - who ran a $300 million fund and did guest spots on CNBC - didn't ring any bells. "They have these back rooms at Cupids. They're dark. I met so many people. It's quite possible I met him during a private show," he said. "He may have been this one guy I went with to the horse races. We spent quite a lot of time together. Did we have sex? I'm assuming we probably did." Tiger's agent, David Forest, downplayed speculation that Tobias may have left Tiger a chunk of cash in his will.



Leo Ford (July 5, 1957 - July 17, 1991), born Leo John Hilgeford in Dayton, Ohio, was a popular 1980s pornographic actor who appeared in numerous gay and bi-sexual pornographic movies and magazines. He was considered a twink, and was at one time romantically linked to porn star Jamie Wingo. He was best known for his pairings with Lance in Leo & Lance and Blonds Do It Best, both directed by William Higgins. He died at the age of 34, a few days after being hit by a car while on a motorcycle in Laguna Beach, California with his lover, Craig Markle, who survived.



'Sergio Canali (May 9, 1963–August 15, 1994, birthname Paul Francis Sypek) was a pornographic actor (porn star) who appeared in numerous gay pornographic movies in the early and mid-1980s. He also performed as Paul Dirosa in films made by Man-Age Studios and William Higgins. Canali/DiRosa's bext known films include The French Lieutenant's Boy, Mikey Likes IT, and One in a Billion. Canali was kidnapped in 1992 while in Florence, Italy by an obsessed fan named Leonardo Vitti. An extensive police manhunt found no trace of him. Two years later, his and Vitti's remains were found in the basement of an abandoned home belonging to Vitti that was in the process of being demolished. The cause of death in both cases remains unknown.' -- deadpornstars.net



Budapest, March 23, 2000: A model who was owed money by a gay director is said to have confessed to the stabbing death of director Steve Cadro, who was found murdered March 23 in Budapest, Hungary. Cadro, 52, who's real name is Korda Istvan, worked with many of the overseas adult companies and distributed titles through All Worlds, Bel Ami, Sarava Productions and Jet Set. He is best known for his recent video The HUNGarians nominated at the GayVN 2000 awards for Best Foreign Release and distributed by Kristen Bjorn's Sarava Productions.

Cadro was found stabbed more than 50 times around the head and back in his apartment in his native Budapest only a day before he was headed to Cuba to shoot an adult video. Hungarian police arrested a young man, identified as a former model named Sanyi and has charged him with the crime. According to sources close to the director, the former model was also a former lover of Cadro's. The model is married and has a small child and lives near Budapest. Cadro is said to have had many past problems with models, including non-payment of many videos he made for Cadro.

A cleaning lady working across the street from Cadro's apartment saw the youth visiting the director and heard a fight, but saw no assault. She later identified the model to police and the youth had a large amount of cash in U.S. dollars on him. Friends concerned with Cadro's absence later that day found a trail of bloody footprints leading out of the building and down the many flights of stairs from the top floor apartment. The largest amount of blood was found on the floor near the telephone revealing that Cadro may have tried to call for help after the stabbing, but wasn't able to and bled to death.

Many sources contacted who knew Cadro said they were not surprised about the murder, and that Cadro often had volatile relationships with his models. In the past he would joke with other directors that he was "the devil" and dressed the part at a recent Halloween party. He was known in some circles as the "Beast of Budapest" or "The Birddog of Budapest." No politicians, no models and few people from the adult industry showed up at his funeral in mid-April. It was a brief, non-religious service and a lone vocalist sang a song before the service. One elderly relative gave a brief eulogy, then four gravediggers carried the casket to an electric hearse, drove it 100 meters to the gravesite and lowered it by hand and shoveled dirt on top. He was buried in a simple wooden casket with "Korda Istvan, age 52" painted on the sides in gold leaf.



Atlanta, November 24, 2004: Barry Thomas "J.T." Rogers, an actor who specialized in gay pornography, committed suicide on Nov. 7. He was 39.

Born in Milledgeville, Ga., Rogers was raised by fundamental Baptists and attended Bob Jones University in South Carolina. He moved to California in the late 1980s to pursue an acting career.

Rogers spent the next decade making a name for himself in the gay sex film industry. In 1993, he won Gay Video Guide’s Best Supporting Actor Award for his role as a mafia don in the film Body Search. Two years later, Rogers won a second supporting actor award for his performance in All About Steve. He appeared in over 35 adult films and was best known for playing the character Johnny Rahm.

Rogers moved to Atlanta in 1999 and tried working in stand-up comedy, but struggled financially. According to the Atlanta Police Department, he hung himself on the fence line of the Atlanta Botanical Garden.
----




*

p.s. Hey. Now I'm almost definitely in Hakone doing something hugely fun or other. I wonder if I've had the time and opportunity to do a full-fledged, Japan-based catch-up style p.s. or not? I'm guessing maybe not, but I have no idea. 13 unlucky gay porn stars. What more is there to say?

_________________




Porn, 23
Kansas City

I work for money, if you want loyalty - higher a dog.

Dicksize L, Cut
Position No entry
Kissing Yes
Fucking No
Oral Bottom
Dirty No
Fisting No
S&M No
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 200 Dollars
Rate night 200 Dollars



________________




Giv_sum_get_some, 22
Sydney

Am a boy aged 22 here for bucks!! Am not here doing this job only for my financial lacks!

I am good looking guy!! In fact I won Mr.Personality award in my college competition.

I like gays that luks like girls in general appearance. My name is Echo!

I can come to your doorstep! just make me know about the landmarks & way. I will reach you!

Dicksize L, Uncut
Position Versatile
Kissing Yes
Fucking Versatile
Oral Versatile
Dirty No
Fisting Active
S&M No
Fetish Underwear, Lycra, Jeans
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 200 Dollars
Rate night 500 Dollars



___________________



handsomeguy2008, 18
Beijing

find some one love me...i 'd always been looking for someone like you, a Mr.right to come along...It's a pity is not you who will accompany me until end......wake up,wake up,with you no beside me......

Dicksize M, Uncut
Position No entry
Kissing No
Fucking More bottom
Oral Versatile
Dirty No
Fisting No
S&M Soft SM only
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour ask
Rate night ask



___________________





FriendlyListener, 24
Nuuk, Greenland

I offer an escort service for anyone waiting for a willing listener and quality advice. (No intercourse.)
My eccentricity can puzzle, but my etiquette allows me to avoid any awkwardness. My life is more important than my pride.

Dicksize No entry, Uncut
Position No entry
Kissing No entry
Fucking No entry
Oral No entry
Dirty No
Fisting No
S&M No entry
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 250 Euros
Rate night 1500 Euros



__________________



BelAmiBoy88, 24
Manchester

Let me introduce you my self.
I am Alexey Borowski with Russian heritage. I have a brown hair and grey eyes and perfectly smooth pearl soft skin. This you will notice once you meet me. I always smile, as I have the power to please. I hope to get shot when I'm in Manchester.

Dicksize XL, Uncut
Position Versatile
Kissing Yes
Fucking Versatile
Oral Versatile
Dirty Yes
Fisting Active
S&M Soft SM only
Fetish Leather, Sportsgear, Skater, Underwear, Boots, Uniform, Formal dress, Sneakers & Socks, Jeans
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour ask
Rate night ask



_________________




codythebloke, 21
Oxford

Hello you like sex day and night ? you kann me fuck day and night

for free no mony

i come in you rome

Dicksize M, Cut
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
Fucking Bottom only
Oral Versatile
Dirty No
Fisting No
S&M Soft SM only
Fetish Leather, Sportsgear, Skater, Underwear, Skins & Punks, Boots, Lycra, Uniform, Formal dress, Techno & Raver, Sneakers & Socks, Jeans, Worker
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 0 Pounds
Rate night 0 Pounds



__________________



GayLove_HatesMe, 21
Prague

just looking for a lover who can accept my imperfection. .the reason why im here is just to explore and expand my knowlede about 3rdsex. . .no more no less.

my body is a bundle! i have a big cook! you will not regret!!!fuck you very well.

i always a glowing passion, a vortex of sensuality, a bath of pure malice, an unforgettable experience that will overwhelm you and mess you with pleasure.

i am for real and i want everything for real.

Dicksize L, Uncut
Position Versatile
Kissing Consent
Fucking More top
Oral Versatile
Dirty No
Fisting No
S&M No
Fetish Underwear, Jeans
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 50 Dollars
Rate night 150 Dollars



__________________




EatyourAlex, 18
Berlin

im alex , 18 yrs old . very serious and also very witty and i do not like monotony . i would like take off your clothes after a grueling meeting . hello ? can we talk ? lets try , maybe it will be nice .

Dicksize XL, Uncut
Position No entry
Kissing Yes
Fucking Versatile
Oral Versatile
Dirty No
Fisting Active
S&M Soft SM only
Fetish Sportsgear, Skater, Underwear, Skins & Punks, Formal dress, Jeans
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 120 Euros
Rate night 550 Euros



_________________



Samael, 19
Belgrade

I'm not from this world and time, Diferent from you, diferent from Earth, music makes my day, no other satisfaction. Separated on two diferent persons, which live one against the other... Born to be the one. Maybe not. But for too many others myself was a hero that they expected. That they hoped for. I'm sorry 'cause of disappointment.'
Interests: disorders of any kind.

Dicksize M, Uncut
Position More top
Kissing Consent
Fucking Versatile
Oral Versatile
Dirty No entry
Fisting No entry
S&M No entry
Fetish Sportsgear, Skater, Underwear, Uniform, Formal dress, Sneakers & Socks, Jeans, Worker
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour ask
Rate night 30 Euros



__________________





Soulkisser, 24
Istanbul

I want to make some money with soft escorting.

On a first date I can be your soft escortboy: stripping, jerking, cumming...
One hour = € 50

On a second date rimming me is possible
One hour = € 100

On a third date sucking me is possible
One hour = € 150

On a fourth date fucking me is possible.
One hour = € 200

Dicksize L, Uncut
Position More bottom
Kissing Consent
Fucking More bottom
Oral Versatile
Dirty No
Fisting No
S&M Soft SM only
Fetish Underwear, Jeans
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour ask
Rate night ask



_________________



site143, 22
Amsterdam

Hi Mister,

My name is site143. I´m just a normal next door boy. NOT a professional.
Want to try and to experience to have sex and get used for money.

So I'm very curious how it will be to serve for money. Show me your pocket.

I've worked hard to get to where I am. I will let you fire your cannon through my porthhole.

Dicksize M, Cut
Position More bottom
Kissing Consent
Fucking More bottom
Oral Versatile
Dirty WS only
Fisting No
S&M Yes
Fetish Sportsgear, Underwear, Uniform, Formal dress, Sneakers & Socks
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 150 Euros
Rate night 800 Euros



_________________



Smocky, 22
Manila

M a very classy sex machine whuz well versedn well travelled n I noe how 2 statisfy a man in bed ......not juz wid his physical attributes buh frm d inside...n my clientz think m worth of wat dey shell on me..... waht can i sai about me i m communicative

Dicksize XL, Uncut
Position More top
Kissing Consent
Fucking More top
Oral Versatile
Dirty WS only
Fisting No
S&M Soft SM only
Fetish Leather, Rubber, Skins & Punks, Boots, Lycra, Techno & Raver, Sneakers & Socks, Drag
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour 20 Dollars
Rate night 50 Dollars



___________________





The_Maschine_Gun, 24
Wiesbaden

hello. i am a young bi boy who like the sex everything form! If you wanna me to be your next sacrifice....
i really sex with a man or boy,but its not free OK....
sex with shoe
smelling sex
suck feet
suck ass
spit
fistin
pissin
call me
PARTY EVERY DAY
I want to meet someone with age from 20 to 45
Who you are is who you are, i will respect you either way

Dicksize XL, Uncut
Position No entry
Kissing Yes
Fucking Versatile
Oral Bottom
Dirty Yes
Fisting Active
S&M Yes
Client age No restrictions
Rate hour ask
Rate night ask



____________________




spiritualguider09, 20
Riga

Quantum physics says "Everything is Nothing". Spiritual knowledge says "Nothing is Everything" and meditation is an appointment with nothing. If you hold onto everything, then you get nothing. If you are well-versed with nothing, then you get everything!

Hello every budy, I here only 4 my research of GAY & BISEXUALPERSONS by astrology. ths is new concept 4 astro- world. I am spritual advisor . I INVITE UR BIRTH DETAILS WITH SOME INFORMATIONS. U CAN ASK & SHARE UR PROBLEM ONLY BASES OF ASTRO

Dicksize No entry, Cut
Position No entry
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 1000 Dollars
Rate night ask



___________________



millipede, 23
Barcelona

I think people are born bisexual and the make subconscious choices based on the pressures of society. I have no question in my mind about being bisexual. But I'm also a hypocrite: I would never date a girl who is bisexual, because that means they also sleep with men, and men are so dirty that I'd never sleep with a girl who had slept with a man.

I am not bisexual. I am not gay. I have never had sex with men.

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



__________________




Handsome18, 19
Tremelo, Belgium

“I believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy.”

“I’m not one of those fancy Harvard heart surgeons. I’m just an unlicensed plumber with a dream and I’d like to cut your chest open.”
The crowd cheers.”

Dicksize No entry, Uncut
Position Bottom only
Kissing Consent
Fucking More bottom
Oral Bottom
Dirty Yes
Fisting Active / passive
S&M Soft SM only
Client age Users between 18 and 35
Rate hour ask
Rate night ask




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p.s. Hey. So, you're going to get two brand new, fresh posts while I'm away, and there's the first one featuring your monthly dose of eye- and sensibility-catching -- or my eye and sensibility at least -- escorts. Have at them please. I'm presumably either on my way to Kyoto today or have newly arrived there. Should be cool.

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1. 'Arthur Rimbaud dreamed even in youth of escape from tedium -- the anonymity and tedium of an age in which everything was reduced to statistics. Escape from his home town of Charleville to Paris, from Paris to the Orient, from the Orient to Nothingness. At the very start of his quest he called for revolt in the name of art and defined creation as the profanation of all the modern age holds sacred. "One must be absolutely modern," he wrote in the collection of prose-poems entitled Une Saison en Enfer.

'The problem of modernity is thus revealed: it paralyzes itself with its own complacency. All too often are we reminded, as though his youthful flashes of genius had been nothing but a kind of bolt from the blue, that Rimbaud was terribly afflicted by the evil genius of time. But by choosing flight and renouncing art, was he not simply, in an all-too-human fashion, running away from the vast abyss his vision had opened up before him?

'For even as a youth, already in flight "from every moral law", he grasped with disconcerting lucidity the poetic revolution he bore within himself. In his famous letter to Paul Demeny in May 1871, he wrote: 'I say you have to be a visionary, make yourself a visionary.' He wants to go further: to set aside standards and conventions in order to perceive the Unknown. To penetrate the Unknown is to become Wise, to discover the duality of Being, the principle of Good and Evil, of their felicitous and infinite combination.

'The poet, then, is on the other side of Time. He is not within Time, he is ahead of it. Rimbaud attacks the surfeit oozing from every pore of society. He is on the side of a "ferocious philosophy" which says "let the rest of the world go to hell".' -- Samir Nair, Rimbaud's Quest




'Rimbaud at 17' by Ralph Haselmann (detail)





2. 'When Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891) abandoned poetry altogether in 1873, at the age of 19 or 20, he reinvented himself. The problem for posterity has been that with this reinvention, Rimbaud discarded his marvelous ability to spin words in the stars. When, some years later, Pierre Bardey's brother Alfred happened to learn that Rimbaud had written poetry and was revered in certain small circles in Paris, he confronted Rimbaud with this. Rimbaud seemed aghast: "Absurd! Ridiculous! Disgusting!" he said to Bardey. The Rimbaud who had written "The Drunken Boat" and "A Season in Hell" was dead and buried. The new Rimbaud wanted to make money. And, perhaps, to do some exploring and a bit of photography. This was the Arthur Rimbaud who arrived in Harar, Ethiopia in August of 1880: a different person entirely.

'It is hard to imagine the world into which Arthur Rimbaud entered. Harar, a city of some 20,000 inhabitants, was still primitive. The sanitary system consisted of throwing refuse—including dead bodies—over the town walls after dark to expectant hyenas. Just five years earlier, in 1875, the city had been conquered by the Egyptians, and a garrison of Egyptian soldiers was stationed there when Rimbaud arrived. In Harar, Rimbaud is believed to have designed and built a house for himself, employing local workers to help him. While there are no records to prove Rimbaud's involvement in the designing and building of the house, there is enough certainty that the Ethiopian government has designated the house as Rimbaud's work and home, and the building's restoration in the 1990s was funded by the French government. The building currently houses a Rimbaud museum that has hosted international seminars on the writer. Some scholars believe that while Rimbaud lived in the house, he did not design it. Others believe the building was not a private residence, but rather housed a French school at which Rimbaud was employed as a teacher.

'Almost immediately upon settling in Harar, Rimbaud grew bored. It's not hard to see why. Even if he had forsaken his literary self, he remained a highly intelligent, keenly observant and very emotional man. He needed intellectual stimulation, and he did not find it in Harar. This is the man who, ten years earlier, had enthusiastically written to the poet Théodore de Banville, "I will be a Parnassian! I swear, cher Maître, I will always worship the two goddesses, the Muse and Liberty." Now, his hopes—and, increasingly, his despairs—were more bourgeois. "What good is this coming and going," he wrote to Charleville, "this hard work and these upheavals among strange peoples, these languages I stuff my head with and these nameless tortures, if I can't someday, in a few years, take my ease in a place that suits me pretty well, and have a family—or have, at least, a son whom I can spend the rest of my life bringing up the way I think he should be, whom I can adorn and arm with the most complete education it’s possible to get in this age, and whom I can see, become a renowned engineer, a man whose knowledge makes him rich and powerful. But who knows the length of my days in these mountains? I may simply disappear among the population, and never be heard of again...."

'Partly to alleviate his pressing boredom, Rimbaud took up photography. He had a camera shipped to him from France and began taking pictures. To this we owe the last of the rare photographs we have of Arthur Rimbaud. They are self-portraits. In a simple statement filled with great poignancy, he sent them home to his family so that they "would remember my face." Looking at the photograph of the man in white cotton tropical garb standing in front of a coffee bush, it's difficult to believe he was 29 when it was taken: He looks 50.' -- from Richard Goodman 'Arthur Rimbaud, Coffee Trader'




'If you think that I’m living like a prince, I am quite certain that I’m living in a very stupid and irritating fashion. Anyway let’ hope we can enjoy a few years of true repose in this life; and it’s a good thing that this life is the only one and that it’s obvious it is, since it’s impossible to imagine another life more tedious than this! ... What could I say about the things I’ve attempted with such extraordinary exertions and which have brought me nothing but fever. But it can’t be helped. I’m used to everything now. I fear nothing...’-- from a letter written by Rimbaud in Harar


Rimbaud's house pre-restoration as seen on an old postcard




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p.s. Hey. I should be in Kyoto and/or its immediate vicinity now. You're in the company of Rimbaud as you read this. I hope the convergence results in a happy occasion for each and every one of you.

Note: The following texts are amalgams consisting of bits of news articles, biographies, and information from a number of different sources.
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Ambrose Bierce's short stories are held among the best of the 19th century, providing a popular following based on his roots. He wrote realistically of the terrible things he had seen in the war in such stories as "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge", "Killed at Resaca", and "Chickamauga". Bierce was considered a master of "Pure" English by his contemporaries, and virtually everything that came from his pen was notable for its judicious wording and economy of style. He wrote in a variety of literary genres. One of Bierce's most famous works is his much-quoted book, The Devil's Dictionary, originally an occasional newspaper item which was first published in book form in 1906 as The Cynic's Word Book. It consists of satirical definitions of English words which lampoon cant and political double-talk.

In October 1913, the septuagenarian Bierce departed Washington, D.C., for a tour of his old Civil War battlefields. In Ciudad Juárez he joined Pancho Villa's army as an observer, and in that role participated in the battle of Tierra Blanca. Bierce is known to have accompanied Villa's army as far as the city of Chihuahua. After a last letter to a close friend, sent from there December 26, 1913, he vanished without a trace, becoming one of the most famous disappearances in American literary history. Several writers have speculated that he headed north to the Grand Canyon, found a remote spot there and shot himself, though no evidence exists to support this view. By one account, Villa tacitly acknowledged that two of his men shot Bierce to keep him from revealing their position, and disposed of his body. All investigations into his fate have proved fruitless, and despite an abundance of theories his end remains shrouded in mystery.

Philip Taylor Kramer played in a number of bands in Ohio (including Max, with future Dead Boy Stiv Bators) before moving to L.A. in the early '70s. After working a number of odd jobs and even living on the streets, he was asked to join an Iron Butterfly reunion by original drummer and friend Ron Bushy, whom he'd been working with as a prop builder at Warner Brothers Studios. Along with guitarist Erik Braunn and keyboardist Howard Reitzes, they recorded Scorching Beauty for MCA in 1974, followed by Sun And Steel (with Bill DeMartines replacing Reitzes). Neither album was particularly good, and while the band toured based on the strength of the name (with Kramer singing "In a Gadda Da Vida"), the band folded in 1977. Kramer and Bushy formed a post-Butterfly group called Gold and recorded an unreleased album during '78-'79. After that stint Kramer quit the music business altogether.

Kramer immersed himself in schooling, studying engineering and getting a job building radar equipment. He graduated from night school with straight A's and got a job at Northrup, working on the design of the MX missile. At the time of his disappearance, he had reportedly discovered a mathematical formula that would allow matter to travel faster than the speed of light. His involvement in projects of this nature have led to theories that he was abducted or murdered.

In the months leading up to his disappearance, Kramer began to have what family and close associates describe as a serious mental breakdown. He became transfixed with the popular book the Celestine Prophesy and obsessed with finding a connection between the book, his work at Northrup, and radical theories about harnessing gravity. He suffered severe mood swings, insisted to his wife that a moat must be created around their house to protect it. He told his father that if he ever said he was going to kill myself, no one should believe it, and instead it would be a message that he'd be needing help. He spoke more and more of an approaching Apocalypse, that he was speaking with God, and that he had channeled an additional 10th insight to the Celestine Prophesy.

What is known is that on Feb. 12, 1995, having spent an hour waiting at Los Angeles International Airport for a business contact who never arrived, he called both his wife and Ron Bushy from his cell phone in his car, leaving Bushy a cryptic message about seeing him "...on the other side." According to newspaper reports, Kramer also called 911 just before noon that day and said he was going to commit suicide, although his friends, family, and co-workers who've listened to the 911 tape say it is full of irregularities and uncharacteristic behavior. In any case, Kramer disappeared without a trace until 1999 when a wrecked car was found in a Malibu ravine and the skeletal remains of its driver identified as Kramer's.

The 911 tape:
Dispatcher: "911 can I help you?"
Kramer: "Yes this is Philip Taylor Kramer."
Dispatcher: "Uh huh, this is 911, Can I help you, sir?"
Kramer: "Yes you can. I'm going to kill myself. And I want everyone to know that O.J. Simpson is innocent ... They did it."

Arthur Cravan was born and educated in Lausanne, Switzerland, then at an English military academy from which he was expelled after spanking a teacher. After this he travelled widely throughout Europe and America during World War I using a variety of passports and documents, some of them forged. He declared no single nationality and claimed instead to be "a citizen of 20 countries". Settling in Paris, Craven became France's heavyweight boxing champion without having to fight a single match. His reputation as a professional boxer in itself provided a sort of street-credibility to his Dadaist reputation, but his rough vibrant poetry, and provocative, anarchistic lectures and public appearances (which often degenerated into drunken brawls) also earned him the admiration of Marcel Duchamp, Francis Picabia, André Breton, and other artists and intellectuals.

His personal style involved a continual re-invention of his public persona and various outrageous statements and boasts. His pride to be the nephew of Oscar Wilde even produced hoaxes - documents and poems - Cravan wrote and then signed "Oscar Wilde". In 1913 he published an article in his self-edited paper Maintenant, claiming that his uncle was still alive and had visited him in Paris. This rumour was taken up even by the New York Times. In fact, the two of them never met.

In 1914 he fled to New York to avoid fighting in the war, and then to South America three years later for the same reason. In Mexico City he met his future wife, the poet Mina Loy. After their marriage in 1918 they planned a trip from Mexico to Venezuela. Without enough money for both of them to book passage on a ship, Loy took the trip on a ship and Cravan set out alone on a sailboat to Venezuela. Cravan never arrived, and intermittent and unconfirmed reports of his sighting continued for many years. One report has it he changed his name to B. Traven and assumed the identity of a reclusive author of German-American nationality who wrote The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Another has it that he returned to New York and then Paris, took the name Dorian Hope, a vagrant poet who sold forged Oscar Wilde manuscripts in the early 1920s.

Everett Ruess was an artist and writer who explored the deserts of the American southwest, invariably alone. He was known for cutting linoleum prints of nature and associated with Ansel Adams and Dorothea Lange. His prints show scenes from the Monterey Bay coast, the northern California coast near Tomales Bay, the Sierra Nevada, Utah, and Arizona. At the time that Ruess explored the remote canyons of the Southwestern United States, aside from Native Americans, Mormon pioneers and local cowboys, he was likely among the first "outsiders" to venture so deeply and completely into what was then (and to some extent still is) largely an unknown wilderness.

At the age of 20, he went into the Utah desert with two burros and never returned. The horse corral he made at his camp in Davis Gulch, a canyon of the Escalante was the only trace he left, and remains to this day. Some suspect he accidentally killed himself by falling off a cliff or drowning, whereas others think he was murdered, which is a theory that may be confirmed by recent evidence. Still others believe he crossed the Colorado River to the Navajo Reservation in Arizona and married a Navajo woman. In any case, his statements on life and adventure, combined with his unsolved disappearance, have led to a kind of legendary status. Famously, his last known words were, 'When I go, I leave no trace.' His story, along with that of Christopher McCandless, was told in Jon Krakauer's book Into the Wild and the film of the same name.

Dima (real name Dimitry Marakov) was born in 1986 in the town of Nalchik, Russia. From a young age, he dreamed of working in the fashion industry as a designer. Lacking the moral or financial support of his parents, he actively sought out contacts within the industry through the internet.  At the age of 14, he became acquainted with a successful fashion photographer in St. Petersburg who invited the boy to come live with him and work as his assistant. Dima accepted the offer and moved in with the photographer. According to friends of Dima, he became the older man's lover for approximately the next year. He eventually grew dissatisfied with the lack of benefits he had been promised would result from the arrangement. He left the photographer to become live-in lovers with a wealthy man who provided the financial backing for a conglomerate of pornographic gay websites. It was at this point that Dimitry adopted the stage name Dima and, with the help of false documents that corrected his age to the legal 18, began a successful career modeling naked and starring in hardcore sex videos on the gay websites financed by his lover.

Between the age of 15 and 18, Dima was a highly sought after pornographic model and performer. He saved the money he made from modeling to pay for the tuition at a leading college of fashion that he hoped to attend when he reached 18. At a certain point, Dima began supplementing his income by renting himself out as an escort within his lover's circle of associates and acquaintances. According to friends of Dima, they included several leading figures in the entertainment industry as well as one of the most powerful men in Russia's world of organized crime. Dima began to express concern to his friends that the organized crime figure had become obsessed with him, but he refused to accept their advice to stop seeing the man because of the large amount of money these dates were earning him. Sometime in 2005, Dima abruptly left his lover, gave up his modeling career, cut off all communication with his friends, and moved in with the organized crime figure. The last public Dima sighting was late that year when his friend Ignat Lebedev, who was also working as a male escort at the time, accompanied a client to a private sex club where he claims to have witnessed a very thin and confused looking  Dima being forcibly sodomized by a group of perhaps ten to fifteen men. Lebedev claims his client identified one of the men as the organized crime figure and dissuaded him from speaking to Dima for his own protection.

Lebedev claims he described what he'd seen to Dima's former lover and was told Dima had been killed the previous week and that he shouldn't speak of this again. Lebedev reported both incidents to the police, but after interviewing the lover and being told Lebedev had made the story up, they declined to investigate the matter. In 2006, Lebedev persuaded a prominent Russian gay journalist to write an article on Dima's disappearance, but during the course of investigating the story, the writer was abducted by unknown assailants, beaten, and told he would be murdered if he wrote the story. Dima has not been seen or reliably heard from in three years, although in early 2007 another organized crime figure, Evgeny Ershova, who was awaiting trial on an unrelated murder charge, claimed that in late 2005 he witnessed a young male prostitute matching Dima's description be pushed out of a helicopter over a remote forest in the north of Russia. Before Dima's ex-lover died of lung cancer in late 2007, he reportedly confessed to friends that Dima was sold as a sex slave to a man in the Ukraine in late 2005 and had lived until late 2006 when he'd committed suicide.

Weldon Kees' first book of poems, The Last Man, was published in 1943 to great critical acclaim. His circle of friends included Edmund Wilson, Allen Tate, Horace Gregory, Dwight MacDonald, and Philip Rahv, and his writing began to appear in a variety of publications, Time, the New York Times, the New Republic, and Partisan Review. Around this time, Kees stopped writing fiction. His new interest was painting, in which he developed skill with remarkable speed. Soon he was exhibiting alongside abstract expressionists Willem de Kooning and Hans Hofmann, and when Clement Greenberg left vacant the post of art critic for The Nation in 1949, Kees was recommended to take his place. The Peridot gallery twice presented Kees in a one-man exhibition, and one of his pictures was included in the 1950 Whitney Biennial.

Though remarkably successful in Manhattan, Kees was dissatisfied with life in New York and decided to relocate to the West Coast in 1950. While continuing to paint and write poetry, he now developed an interest in traditional New Orleans style jazz and song-writing. He played the piano with professional jazz groups and peddled songs and lyrics to publishers. He worked as a photographer with Jurgen Ruesch and Gregory Bateson for various projects they were developing for the Langley Porter Clinic at Berkeley. With Ruesch, he shared the authorship of Nonverbal Communication: Notes on the Visual Perception of Human Relations (1953), which can best be described as a proto-semiotic text that suggests a taxonomy by which to "read" visual signs and gestures that take their place as part of a network of culture. He began making experimental films, writing the music for short films made by other filmmakers, and got involved with the Beat scene.

On July 19, 1955, Kees's Plymouth Savoy was found on the north side of the Golden Gate Bridge with the keys in the ignition. He had told a friend that he wanted, like Hart Crane, to start a new life in Mexico. When his friends went to search his apartment, all they found were the cat he had named Lonesome and a pair of red socks in the sink. His sleeping bag and savings account book were missing. He left no note. No one is sure if Weldon Kees jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge that day or if he went to Mexico, although suicide is presumed. Before he disappeared, Kees quoted Rilke to friend Michael Grieg, ominously saying that sometimes a person needs to change his life completely.

Bas Jan Ader was born to idealistic ministers in the Dutch Reformed Church on April 19, 1942. His father was executed by the Nazis for harboring Jewish refugees when Ader was only two years old. A rebellious student, he failed art school at the Rietveld Academy, where friend Ger van Elk recalls that he would use a single piece of paper for the entire semester, erasing his drawings as soon as they were finished. At the age of 19 he hitchhiked to Morocco, where he signed on as a deckhand on a yacht heading for America.

The yacht shipwrecked off the coast of California, and Ader stayed in Los Angeles where he enrolled at Otis Art Institute. There he met Mary Sue Andersen, the daughter of the director of the school. They married in Las Vegas, where he used a set of crutches to symbolically prop himself up during the ceremony. Ader then taught art and studied philosophy at Claremont Graduate School. In 1970 he entered the most productive period of his career, beginning with his first fall film, which showed him seated on a chair, tumbling from the roof of his two-story house in the Inland Empire.

Ader's most popular work is his 1970 short film piece entitled "I'm too sad to tell you" that consists of the artist crying in front of a camera after a brief title. While much has been said about the aesthetic and ironical framework of "I'm too sad to tell you", i.e. the emotive or theatrical content, the slapstick comedy present in much of his work also plays an important role. Within this duality Ader thus creates in much of his work and performance a contrived theatricality that creates comedic space in its meta-awareness. This places not only content and aesthetics to the fore, but the idea of reception as well. The interests and concerns in Ader's oeuvre locate him in similar art historical tropes of conceptual and performance artists of the 1970s, such as Chris Burden and Bruce Nauman.

In 1975 Ader embarked on what he called “a very long sailing trip.” The voyage was to be the middle part of a triptych called “In Search of the Miraculous,” a daring attempt to cross the Atlantic in a 12½ foot sailboat. He claimed it would take him 60 days to make the trip, or 90 if he chose not to use the sail. Six months after his departure, his boat was found, half-submerged off the coast of Ireland, but Bas Jan had vanished. The boat was later stolen. Many myths have spread out about Ader's disappearance at sea, leading to speculations about supposedly lost works resurfacing.

The second-youngest of five children, Joe Pichler relocated to Los Angeles as a child to pursue his acting career. He had some success, most notably appearing in several successful movies including The Fan (1996) and Varsity Blues (1999). With the exception of a handful of memorable supporting roles, he is probably most well-known for his recurring role as Brennan Newton in the third and fourth (direct-to-video) installments of the Beethoven movies -- family-oriented comedies about the antics of a mischievous St. Bernard.

In 2003, at the insistence of his family, he returned to his hometown of Bremerton, Washington (which is about 16 miles west of Seattle), and graduated from high school there in 2005. According to family, Pichler had planned to return to Los Angeles in the following year (after the braces were removed from his teeth) to continue with his acting career. Pichler was last seen on January 5, 2006. His car was found January 9 at 2006 Wheaton Way at the intersection of Wheaton Way and Sheridan Road. He was reported as officially missing by his family on January 16. Pichler had been playing cards with some friends, who reported he was in good spirits during the evening. According to his family's reports to the media at the time, the last outgoing call on Pichler's cell phone was placed at 4:08 a.m. on January 4, to a friend who had said that he had been visiting with Pichler earlier in the day.

Louis Aimé Augustin Le Prince was an inventor who is considered by many film historians as the true father of motion pictures who shot first moving pictures on paper film using a single lens camera. A Frenchman who also worked in Britain and the United States, Le Prince conducted his ground-breaking work in 1888 in the city of Leeds, West Yorkshire, England. In October 1888, Le Prince filmed moving picture sequences Roundhay Garden Scene and a Leeds Bridge street scene using his single-lens camera and Eastman's paper film. These were several years before the work of competing inventors such as Thomas Edison and Auguste and Louis Lumière. "Roundhay Garden Scene" is listed by the Guiness Book of Records as the earliest surviving motion picture.

In September 1890, Le Prince boarded a train on a Friday, promising friends he would rejoin them in Paris on the following Monday for the return journey to England, to be followed by a trip to the US to promote his new camera. However, Le Prince did not arrive at the appointed time and he was never seen again by his family or friends. All that could be established about his last whereabouts was that he was seen on on 16 September 1890 boarding the 2:42 train at Dijon for his return to Paris. The French police, Scotland Yard and the family undertook exhaustive searches but never found his body or luggage. This mysterious disappearance case was never solved. However, according to Irénée Dembowski five main theories have been proposed:

1. Missing person (1890): No luggage, nor corpse was found in the Dijon-Paris express nor along the railway. No one saw Le Prince at the Dijon station on September 16, 1890, except his brother. No one saw Le Prince in the Dijon-Paris express after he was seen boarding it. No one noticed strange behaviour or aggression in the Dijon-Paris express. The French police report conclusion: a missing person.

2. Perfect suicide (1890): According to a police report,[citation needed] Louis Le Prince wanted to commit suicide because he was on the verge of bankruptcy. Le Prince had already arranged his suicide and he managed for his own body and belongings never to be found. This theory was reported in 1928, by Georges Potoniée, quoting the son of the architect in Les Origines Du Cinématographe.

3. Patent Wars assassination (1900): Christopher Rawlence pursues the assassination theory, along with other theories, and discusses the Le Prince family's suspicions of Edison over patents in his 1990 book and documentary The Missing Reel. At the time that he vanished, Le Prince was about to patent his 1889 projector in England and then leave Europe for his scheduled New York official exhibition. His widow assumed foul play, and suspicion has always fallen on Thomas Edison who some scholars continue to believe arranged for La Prince's murder, though no concrete evidence has ever emerged

4. Disappearance ordered by the family (1966): In 1966, Jacques Deslandes proposed a theory in Histoire comparée du cinéma: "Le Prince's disappearance was voluntary and was caused by reasons of financial order and familial conveniences". Journalist Léo Sauvage quotes a note from Pierre Gras, director of the Dijon municipal library, "Le Prince died in Chicago in 1898, voluntary disappearance at the family's request. Homosexuality." This statement was made by a famous historian visiting the Dijon library, but kept secret.

5. Fratricide, murder for money (1967): A photograph of a drowning victim from 1890 resembling Le Prince was discovered in 2003 during research in the Paris police archives.

In 1972 Gerry Rafferty and his old school friend Joe Egan formed Stealers Wheel, a group beset by legal wranglings but which did have a huge hit "Stuck in the Middle With You" (made famous for a new generation in the movie Reservoir Dogs) and the smaller top 40 hit "Star" ten months later. The duo disbanded in 1975. In 1978, Gerry Rafferty cut a solo album, City to City, which included the song with which he remains most identified, "Baker Street". The single reached No. 3 in the UK and No. 2 in the U.S. The album sold over 5.5 million copies, toppling the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack in the U.S. on 8 July 1978.

In 2006, Gerry Rafferty arrived at Inverness airport after a transatlantic flight after drinking his way through a transatlantic flight so drunk that he had to be taken off the flight in a wheelchair. The friend who had come to meet him was apparently so annoyed at his condition that they refused to help him. And witnesses say he was so drunk none of the airport taxi drivers would accept him as a passenger. Eventually he was left outside the airport offices of the HeliMed air ambulance service. Police were called and agreed to take him to the Beechwood House clinic a few miles away.

Rafferty has been a virtual recluse for more than 20 years. His marriage broke up amid rumours of his increasingly eccentric behaviour and he became embroiled in an extraordinary feud with his elder brother, Jim who has set up a website taunting his brother whom he calls 'the Great Gutsby', 'the Human Bottlebank' and 'my psychotic sibling' and claiming that he is overweight, drink-addled and paranoid.

In the summer of 2008, Rafferty checked himself into St Thomas' Hospital for liver problems. On August 1st, Rafferty disappeared, leaving his belongings behind. The hospital filed a missing persons report. Despite claims that he has been in contact with family, posted on various websites, as well as claims of sightings (including that he is in London, Bournemouth, Brussels, Bodelwyddan, or North Korea, there has still been no authenticated report regarding his whereabouts.
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p.s. Hey. Today's old post, or the part about 'Dima', is what inspired the Deerhunter song 'Helicopter', if you didn't know and are interested. I'm still in Kyoto, I think. Since I wrote this before I left for Japan, I have no idea what I will be doing today, and, hence, there's not much to tell you at the moment. I hope you're hanging in there, to say the least.

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p.s. Hey. I hope you enjoy investigating or reinvestigating this intro to Laure. Kyoto or thereabouts is where I still am barring the unforeseen. If any of you have some Kyoto tips, let me know. I'll probably be checking in with the comments here as often as possible. So, yeah. What do you recommend? How are you?

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GILLES de RAIS: THE BANNED LECTURE
by Aleister Crowley

Gilles de Rais was born sometime in 1404. He married Catherine de Thonars on the 30th of November 1420, arrest by the Church. He began alchemical studies under the instruction of Gilles de Sille, a priest of St. Malo. Montague Summers believes he sacrificed around eight hundred children and quotes the proceedings of ecclesiastical high court in which a Dominican priest named Jean Blouyn took over as the delegate of the Holy Inquisition for the city and diocese of Nantes. Needless to say, Gilles “confessed”, and was put on the stake and charcoaled on October 26th, 1440 leaving his estates and untold riches to Mother Church, who, wasting no time, added them to her list of material gains. Included in this particular catch were Gilles personal hand-painted manuscripts, which were eagerly welcomed into the Mother Lode’s vault where they sit to this day. Unfortunately, the Vatican’s library is inaccessible to “common folk”, and will probably remain so until the demise of Mother Church herself, at which time this author will assist other interested persons in converting it into a public library. (read the entirety)







I'M YOUR NIGHT PROWLER
by Richard Ramirez

RICHARD RAMIREZ: Are you nervous?
FHF: A bit, but hardly. I did an interview with Manson not too long ago. I get a little uptight when I do interviews. You know, wondering if the questions will come out right or will they get angry at anything I might ask?
RR: Oh. Well, uh... go ahead and we'll see what happens. I don't mind any questions really.
FHF: Good. Let's start with the ladies. Why are some so attracted to you? Bernadette Brazal, not bad - pretty cute.
RR: I think the girls are attracted to me because they can relate to me. The girls are nice when you're in my situation, but since I'm in here I spend more time writing to them about the relationship, rather than living it, but there are good friendships formed never-the-less. A couple of them are religious, they come into my life to try and help me. (read the rest)





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The Manifesto of Futurism
by F.T. Marinetti

1. We intend to sing the love of danger, the habit of energy and fearlessness.
2. Courage, audacity, and revolt will be essential elements of our poetry.
3. Up to now, literature has exalted a pensive immobility, ecstasy, and sleep. We intend to exalt aggressive action, a feverish insomnia, the racer's stride, the mortal leap, the punch and the slap.
4. We affirm that the world's magnificence has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed. A racing car whose hood is adorned with great pipes, like serpents of explosive breath -a roaring car that seems to ride on grapeshot is more beautiful than the Victory of Samothrace.
5. We want to hymn the man at the wheel, who hurls the lance of his spirit across the Earth, along the circle of its orbit.
6. The poet must spend himself with ardor, splendor, and generosity, to swell the enthusiastic fervor of the primordial elements.
7. Except in struggle, there is no more beauty .No work without an aggressive character can be a masterpiece. Poetry must be conceived as a violent attack on unknown forces, to reduce and prostrate them before man.
8. We stand on the last promontory of the centuries! Why should we look back, when what we want is to break down the mysterious doors of the Impossible? Time and Space died yesterday. We already live in the absolute, because we have created eternal, omnipresent speed. (read more)





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The View from the Bandstand
by Lou Reed

Of course it had to happen, it really had to happen, it was the natural end to Beethoven's Ninth. Everyone was getting sicker and looking like a wolverine while the people pushed colleges. Dirty buildings with lawns for people to lie on blankets. Well-groomed wasps or purposefully disheveled sensitives reading Spengler. But meanwhile everything was dead. Writing was dead, movies were dead. Everybody sat like an unpeeled orange. But the music was so beautiful. All the bastards that you were supposed to feel sorry for and fight wars for were screaming, "Look at the freaks in Central Park with transistors up their heads. " Tom Wolfe drew clever cartoons and people admired his vocabulary, forgetting he was dead and sucking blood. (read the entirety)





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A Dog's Death
by Octave Mirbeau

His master called him Turk. He was thin, yellow, and sad, with a pointed snout, a small build, and short, badly cropped ears that were always bleeding. The tail he wore on his rump looked like a scabby question mark. In the summertime, Turk went into the fields to guard the cattle, and into the roads to chase passers-by who dealt him swift kicks and pelted him with stones. His great joy, out in a mowed field, embroidered with sprouting clover, was to come across a hare that would bolt in front of him and to pursue it across hedges, moats, and streams with long leaps and wild sprints, returning out of breath with his legs trembling and his tongue hanging out, dripping with sweat. (read the rest)





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THE CONQUEST OF THE IRRATIONAL
by Salvador Dali

We all know that the brilliant and sensational progress of the individual sciences, the glory and honor of the “space” and the era we live in, involves, on the one hand, the crisis and the overwhelming disrepute of “logical intuition,” and on the other hand, the respect for irrational factors and hierarchies as new positive and specifically productive values. We must bear in mind that pure and logical intuition, pure intuition, I repeat, a pure maid of all work, in the private homes of the particular sciences, had been carrying about in her womb an illegitimate child who was nothing less than the child of physics proper; and by the time Maxwell and Faraday were at work, this son was noticeably weighed down with an unequivocal persuasiveness and a personal force of gravity that left no doubt about the father of the child: Newton. Because of this downward pull and the force of gravity, pure intuition, after being booted out of the homes of all the particular sciences, has now turned into pure prostitution, for we see her offering her final charms and final turbulences in the brothel of the artistic and literary world. (read the entirety)





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The Last Words of Dutch Schultz
by Dutch Schultz

Has it been in any other papers? George, don't make no full moves. What have you done with him? Oh, mama, mama, mama. Oh stop it, stop it; eh, oh, oh. Sure, sure, mama. Now listen, Phil, fun is fun. Ah please, papa. What happened to the sixteen? Oh, oh, he done it, please. John, please, oh, did you buy the hotel? You promised a million sure. Get out. I wished I knew.
Please make it quick, fast and furious. Please. Fast and furious. Please help me get out; I am getting my wind back, thank God. Please, please, oh please. You will have to please tell him, you got no case. You get ahead with the dot dash system didn't I speak that time last night. Whose number is that in your pocket book, Phi1 13780. Who was it? Oh- please, please. Reserve decision. Police, police, Henry and Frankie. Oh, oh, dog biscuits and when he is happy he doesn't get happy please, please to do this. Then Henry, Henry, Frankie you didn't even meet me. The glove will fit what I say oh, Kayiyi, oh Kayiyi. Sure who cares when you are through? How do you know this? How do you know this? Well, then oh, Cocoa know thinks he is a grandpa again. He is jumping around. No Hobo and Poboe I think he means the same thing. (read the rest)





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VÅRGSMÅL
by Varg Vikernes

Today it's more important to die than to live. The "mother beast" shelters us all the time. It's punishable to expose yourself to danger, or others for that matter. To live over-protected is the same as to abandon your own ability to have resistance when danger appears. If I don't stimulate my human nature, my instincts, I will not die, but degenerate to death! We are already degenerated, after a thousand years under foreign tyranny! It is very easy to answer why you get more and more allergies, more and more criminals, more and more irritating, feeble and sick, as there are more people. More and more psychological suffering, or to put it bluntly more and more misery. We are a dying folk. We fight not only against nature instead of with, but we also fight against our own unique Germanic nature. (read the entirety)





____________________________



Pain Journal
by Bob Flanagan

4/26/95 - Itchy eyes. Can't focus. Tired... again. On the couch... again. Drugs... again. And I'm still into this alligator clip thing. Last night, after I finally went down to bed, I put seven of them on my dick - along the shaft, on the corona and the tip of the head - and I keep them there - and I came (well, it's a pathetic form of coming, but I came). Now I'm ready for Sheree ready to go at me with even more clips for a longer period of time, and then hot wax afterwards. We would have done it tonight but she had to go to school and I had to go to Debbie's, then there's the stupid drugs to do - we're exhausted, as usual. I'll probably dabble with a few of them again tonight, just to stay in shape: alligator clip training. (read the rest)





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RIOT GRRRL MANIFESTO
by Kathleen Hanna

BECAUSE us girls crave records and books and fanzines that speak to US that WE feel included in and can understand in our own ways.

BECAUSE we wanna make it easier for girls to see/hear each other's work so that we can share strategies and criticize-applaud each other.

BECAUSE we must take over the means of production in order to create our own moanings.

BECAUSE viewing our work as being connected to our girlfriends-politics-real lives is essential if we are gonna figure out how we are doing impacts, reflects, perpetuates, or DISRUPTS the status quo.

BECAUSE we recognize fantasies of Instant Macho Gun Revolution as impractical lies meant to keep us simply dreaming instead of becoming our dreams AND THUS seek to create revolution in our own lives every single day by envisioning and creating alternatives to the bullshit christian capitalist way of doing things. (read the entirety)





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TOOL: Part 1
by Peter Sotos

You're such a pretty girl. You shouldn't cry. Such a dear. Those tears aren't pretty, are they? Look at me, stupid. Now - Are... Those... Fucking... Tears... Pretty… Cunt?
Do you like making your mommy cry? Do you like that? Huh? The poor fucking woman. You selfish little brat; you cunt. How do you think she feels, huh? Huh, cunt? How terrible you are. How mean. How mean and cruel to your mother you are. Don't you feel horrible? Making her cry. Making her hurt so badly.
I think you're absolutely terrible. A fucking brat.
Fucking horrible cunt. Shame on you.
Now there, there. Crying won't help. You already made your mommy cry. Nothing can help your mom now. She feels very, very bad, and you did it. You can't change that...cunt. You're a cunt, and mama's gonna cry for-fucking-ever. Your mama's gonna miss you something awful. She will never get over you leaving her and never coming back. You're killing her. (the entirety)





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Anathema of Zos: The Sermon of the Hypocrite
by Austin Osman Spare

Hostile to self-torment, the vain excuses called devotion, Zos satisfied the habit by speaking loudly unto his Self and at one time, returning to familiar consciousness, he was vexed to notice interested hearers-a rabble of involuntary mendicants, pariahs, whoremongers, adulterers, distended bellies, and the prevalent sick-grotesques that obtain in civilizations. His irritation was much, yet still they pestered him, saying: MASTER, WE WOULD LEARN OF THESE THINGS! TEACH US RELIGION! And seeing, with chagrin, the hopeful multitude of Believers, he went down into the Valley of Stys, prejudiced against them as FOLLOWERS. And when he was ennui, he opened his mouth in derision, saying: (read on)





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How to Build a Universe That Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days Later
by Philip K. Dick

First, before I begin to bore you with the usual sort of things science fiction writers say in speeches, let me bring you official greetings from Disneyland. I consider myself a spokesperson for Disneyland because I live just a few miles from it -- and, as if that were not enough, I once had the honor of being interviewed there by Paris TV. For several weeks after the interview, I was really ill and confined to bed. I think it was the whirling teacups that did it. Elizabeth Antebi, who was the producer of the film, wanted to have me whirling around in one of the giant teacups while discussing the rise of fascism with Norman Spinrad... an old friend of mine who writes excellent science fiction. We also discussed Watergate, but we did that on the deck of Captain Hook's pirate ship. Little children wearing Mickey Mouse hats -- those black hats with the ears -- kept running up and bumping against us as the cameras whirred away, and Elizabeth asked unexpected questions. Norman and I, being preoccupied with tossing little children about, said some extraordinarly stupid things that day. Today, however, I will have to accept full blame for what I tell you, since none of you are wearing Mickey Mouse hats and trying to climb up on me under the impression that I am part of the rigging of a pirate ship. (the entirety)





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SOLITARY VICE
by John Harvey Kellogg

If illicit commerce of the sexes is a heinous sin, self-pollution, or masturbation, is a crime doubly abominable. As a sin against nature, it has no parallel except in sodomy (see Gen. 19:5; Judges 19:22). It is the most dangerous of all sexual abuses because the most extensively practiced. The vice consists in an excitement of the genital organs produced otherwise than in the natural way. It is known by the terms, self-pollution, self-abuse, masturbation, onanism, manustupration, voluntary pollution, and solitary or secret vice. The vice is the more extensive because there are almost no bounds to its indulgence. Its frequent repetition fastens it upon the victim with a fascination almost irresistible! It may be begun in earliest infancy, and may continue through life. Even though no warning may have been given, the transgressor seems to know, instinctively, that he is committing a great wrong, for he carefully hides his practice from observation. In solitude he pollutes himself, and with his own hand blights all his prospects for both this world and the next. Even after being solemnly warned, he will often continue this worse than beastly practice, deliberately forfeiting his right to health and happiness for a moment's mad sensuality. (read the rest)





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THEE GREY BOOK
AN INTRODUCTION INTO THE TEMPLE OV PSYCHICK YOUTH
by Genesis P-Orridge

WARNING

INVOLVEMENT WITH THE TEMPLE OV PSYCHICK YOUTH REQUIRES AN ACTIVE INDIVIDUAL DEDICATED TOWARDS THEE ESTABLISHMENT OF A FUNCTIONAL SYSTEM OF MAGICK AND A MODERN PAGAN PHILOSOPHY WITHOUT RECOURSE TO MYSTIFICATION, GODS OR DEMONS; BUT RECOGNIZING THEE IMPLICT POWERS OF THEE HUMAN BRAIN (NEUROMANCY) LINKED WITH GUILTLESS SEXUALITY FOCUSSED THROUGH WILL STRUCTURE (SIGILS). MAGICK EMPOWERS THEE INDIVIDUAL TO EMBRACE AND REALIZE THEIR DREAMS AND MAXIMIZE THEIR NATURAL POTENTIAL. IT IS FOR THOSE WITH THEE FIRST STEPS TOWARDS FINAL NEGATION OF CONTROL AND FEAR. (read more)





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Immediatism vs. Capitalism
by Hakim Bey

Many monsters stand between us, & the realization of Immediatist goals. For instance our own ingrained unconscious alienation might all too easily be mistaken for a virtue, especially when contrasted with crypto-authoritarian pap passed off as "community," or with various upscale versions of "leisure." Isn't it natural to take the dandyism noir of curmudgeonly hermits for some kind of heroic Individualism, when the only visible contrast is Club Med commodity socialism, or the gemutlich masochism of the Victim Cults? To be doomed & cool naturally appeals more to noble souls than to be saved & cozy. (the entirety)






more Feast of Hate and Fear
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*

p.s. Hey. I hope the site that I spotlit today still exists and that the links work. I didn't even think to check when I put this old post in the queue. How thoughtless of me. But hopefully it's still out there and taking visitors. As for me, this should be my last day in Kyoto. I wonder how I'm doing.

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Fairy hanging

Fairy boy freezing

Daemon girl enema

Fairy tearing

Angel on fire

*

p.s. Hey. I never check the blog's traffic numbers. I just don't want to know. I don't know if that's sane or neurotic of me. But I have used this option where you can find out what the most popular or, rather, viewed posts in the history of the blog are, and the one I am relaunching today is #1 by quite a margin, which surprises the hell out of me. Any theories as to why this post would be the one that rules the roost? I should have arrived in Osaka at some point today. I wonder what that's like?

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1

For the rockers and the rock-at-heart

Let’s get together

Dance Rock

All-Night Club

The Songs Saved My Life

Power Super Rock Music

Gypsy Thunder Funk

Funky Human

Double Soul

Change the Vibe

Wack Bizz

Respect Newyork, buddy!





2

Tightly

Run Slow

Onself

There Were Moments of Solo

Self Condition

Let’s Get to It!

Feeling of one’s own reality

Impression

Scene

A limitless Roming

Expansion of Function

Free Style

Your Dream

I Want to Fly Like A….

All your dreams are filled

You may go wherever you like

Lost in red and white vessel

Free to Be a Juicy Girl





3

Tiny Plateau Has the Crafty Race

Markedly





4

Pick Up

Information

Design Journal

Never Seen

Soul Break

Do you surrender

in the empty thought

that it goes wrong?

Somebody

release from the binding

for good and right now.

As for you it has not cracked slowly

in the impulse which is hot held down!

It is not the thing which anyone gets accustomed to






5

Favor Rhyme

Happy Favorite

Happy Summer

Popping Shower

Chard Hushhush

Angel Blue

Smile Day

Sweet Years

Panda Smile

“A bathing ape”

Enjoy the product heartfully






6

Bugus Bunny

Sesame Street

Elmo Is a Good Helper

Daisy Duck

She loves getting presents, the more expensive the better





7

Get Funked Up

The choice of a new generation

Back to the Nature

70s hippy culture

managed to love and peace

Peace of Dream

A Peace American

American Deli

All American Straight Shooter

Hungry Cowpoke

Rich and brings up tradition





8

Rapture Saintly

Always look happy

Sun Shine

Respect highest

ANY ANY ANY

Chase the Chance

Cast the Dice

Dunk Hi

Winner Takes All

The Goddess of Winning Shines on You





9

The Vast Grassland

Valley Free

Luxury secluded retreats to Waipio

Houses with water piped from waterfall

International Art Movement

Art show is slowly filling up,

we currently have 114 artists reserved






10

Apples

are the most popular backyard fruit

The idea of a sweet treat

was first invented by cavemen who ate honey from bee hives

Taste Good

Rainbow Candy

Sweet Carrot

Beta-Carotene

Ice Particle

Road Kill

The taste and scent for a gourmet’s man






11

Why So Cool?

HEAT PRIDE

Go or Back?

Make up your mind

Left or Right

Prosaic Life with You

Sometime

You also were my friend

Stand the Pain

When you go to drive shortly

don’t say that it does not become a missing child





12

Drinker

It is fearful

Please take care

Never drink away your reason
New 100% Clean

Washes Everything

Let’s do our part preserving the environment

Smile Face

is a spirit of moral reform

You must change this age all

Make Up One’s Mind

Cause a Change Freely

Do only in the long run?

Solidarity is best

Success

Is Knowing How to Get Along with People





13

Lover of adventure

Direction the car drove

Direction of toward the coast



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p.s. Hey. The ultra-fine writer and d.l. Alan made this beautiful post for the blog back in '09, and I decided, quite understandably, that it deserved a second spotlight. If you're still reading this blog after all this time of my being elsewhere, and I guess you are, maybe you'd like to talk to Alan if he's still looking in here after all this time of my being elsewhere. I'm in Osaka.

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Laporte, Roger (1925-2001). A philosopher by training, Laporte is primarily known as the author of a series of unusual works (including La Veille, 1963; Fugue, 1970; Moriendo, 1983) where attention focuses on the activity of writing itself, to the virtual exclusion of other subject-matter. Assembled in one volume (Une vie, 1986), the nine separate texts are experiments in a new genre, labelled ‘biographie’ (see Carnets, 1979; Lettre à personne, 1988), where the writer's self is apprehended in its primordial relationship to language and utterance. Austere but rigorous and elevating, Laporte's work often invokes kindred spirits such as Mallarmé, Artaud, and Blanchot, on whom he has written with penetration (Quinze variations sur un thème biographique, 1975). While a number of Laporte's essays on contemporary philosophers have been published in periodicals and anthologies in the UK and the United States, only a very few fragments of his own vastly significant writing have been translated into English. Nonetheless, the scholar Ian Maclachlan's brilliant and acclaimed book length study of Laporte's work, Roger Laporte: The Orphic Text, was published by Oxford University Press in 2000. Laporte died in 2001.

'Roger Laporte's Fugue takes away 

in advance all metalinguistic 

resources and makes of this 

quasi-operation an unheard 

music outside of genre.' 

-- Jacques Derrida

'A pure reading which does not call 

for another writing is incomprehens-

ible to me. Reading Proust, Blanchot, 

Kafka, Artaud gave me no desire to 

write on these authors (not even, 

I might add, like them), but to write.' 

-- Roger Laporte

A rare translated fragment: from 'Fugue' (1970)

from L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E

'Fugue is a long monologue in which a narrator proposes to write a novel that would expose his experience of writing in its immediacy, that is, as he sets his hand down to write on the blank page. The narrator states that his purpose "is to write a book that would be its own content, a book that would produce and register its own elaboration". His project is dictated, he says, by his intention to "reveal the inner workings of the thought process". The metafictional theme of writing is maintained throughout the novel. It is in fact its fundamental organizing principle.
----''In the fugal structure and in the novel, a single theme is present as a unifying element. In both, it is a base element that is "searched out". In the case of the fugue, it is the multiple entries of, and variations on, the theme that expose its musical potential. In the novel, the narrator proposes various models that he hopes will shed light on the question "What is writing?". Thus the fugal theme or subject, as it is also called, and the novel's theme can be projected onto each other as counterparts. Particular features -- both are monothematic compositions whose themes have a unifying function and provide the potential for exploration and development -- are recruited to participate in the construct of a blended space.'

from Frederique Arroyas' 'When is a Text like Music?' (read the entirety)

for our French speakers

from Desordre

On peut en revanche essayer de comprendre pourquoi chez Proust les expériences de mémoire affective s'accompagnent toujours d'un tel sentiment de félicité que sa propre mort, véritable hantise, lui devient indifférente. - Une expérience majeure, constante, partagée par Swann et par le narrateur, est celle de l'oubli. Donnons un seul exemple, mais particulièrement probant on sait quelle longue et très cruelle souffrance fut pour le narrateur le départ, puis la mort d'Albertine. Le temps passe. Le narrateur est à Venise. Il reçoit un télégramme : la signature, à la suite d'une erreur de la poste, ne porte pas le prénom de Gilberte, mais celui d'Albertine.... ce que le narrateur accueille avec indifférence, car son amour pour la jeune fille en fleur est complétement mort. Proust a raison de penser que non seulement nous oublions le passé, mais que notre moi d'alors, le moi par exemple de celui qui aimait Albertine, n'existe plus, du moins en apparence. Il n'est pas question de mésestimer le temps retrouvé, mais nul mieux que Proust ne nous apprend que 1a mort ne coïncide pas avec la fin de notre existence, qu'elle ne se réduit point au trépas, mais que nous ne cessons de mourir tout an long de notre vie ». Sans doute la mémoire affective qui s'accompagne toujours d'une bouleversante félicité, ne vaut-elle que pour Proust lui-même, mais qui, plus que lui, a souffert de l'oubli! A un ami qui part pour un long voyage, Proust écrit "il est triste de leur séparation, mais qu'il est encore plus triste à la pensée que dans un certain temps il sera devenu indifférent. Si Proust avait été moins vulnérable, moins sensible à l'oubli, à la mort de soi, il n'aurait pas éprouvé une immense joie en retrouvant un moment du passé complètement oublié, perdu en apparence à jamais, en ayant ainsi la preuve que la mort, n'existe pas dans la mesure où il se retrouve lui-même tel qu’il était alors. A présent nous sommes mieux à même, non de partager l'incommunicable, mais de comprendre la félicité proustienne.



S’il on est Balzac, on peut s’aventurer, avec plus ou moins de bonheur, à résumer La Chartreuse de Parme, mais aucun des trois récits majeurs de Bataille ne saurait être repris en peu de mots; même faire des citations est impossible et d'abord serait ridicule. On peut seulement dire avec Marguerite Duras:

« Edwarda restera suffisamment inintelligible des siècles durant... le sujet d'Edwarda se situant en deçà ou au-delà des acceptions particulières du langage, comment en rendrait-il compte! »

Par je ne sais quelle inconséquence, quel manque de lucidité cruel, il est arrivé à Bataille d'écrire de volumineux, d'ennuyeux ouvrages de sociologie ou d'anthropologie, par exemple L’Erotisme, Histoire de l'érotisme... sans parler de La Part maudite, mais ces ouvrages ne nous touchent guère, car ils parlent de l'érotisme, mais précisément ils ne font que parler de l'érotisme, à jamais extérieur au livre. Chez Bataille, non pas l'auteur des traités d'anthropologie (auxquels il a consacré beaucoup de temps!), mais l'auteur de textes érotiques, comme chez nul autre, même chez Sade, l'érotisme et l'écriture sont « coextensifs » pour reprendre la judicieuse remarque de Denis Hollier. Ces récits sont inséparables de leur trajet, de leur mouvement - celui d'une « crue », bien mise en lumière par Lucette Finas -, de leur caractère excessif, de plus en plus outrancier : aucune barrière ne limite la fiction. S'imaginer qu'écrire de tels récits érotiques est une partie de plaisir est une naïveté et d'abord un contresens, car l'acte d'écrire, touchant à l'extrême, rencontre le danger, que naturellement Bataille ne fuit pas, mais tout au contraire recherche. Ici encore Denis Hollier voit juste lorsqu'il écrit :

« Pour Bataille, l'écriture est une pratique réelle de déséquilibre, un risque réel pour la, santé, mentale. La folie est contamment en jeu dans ce qu'il écrit. Mais la "folie" est précisément l'inimitable écriture sans règle ni modèle . »

Si écrire est lié, au silence comme à son destin, si « le silence est la seule exigence qui vaille, “ on comprend que Blanchot ait pu dire : « ... de cette écriture toujours extérieure à ce qui s'écrit, nulle trace, nulle preuve ne s’inscrit visiblement dans les livres. - N'arrive-t-il pas à Blanchot de nuancer cette affirrtiation ? Dans un texte dont E. Levinas souligne qu'il a été écrit « d'une façon prophétique plus de six mois avant Mai 68 », on peut lire ces lignes de Blanchot : « De cette écriture toujours exitérieure à ce qui s'écrit, nulle trace, nulle preuve ne s’inscrit visiblement dans les livres, peut-être de-ci de-là sur les murs ou sur la nuit, tout, de même qu’au début de l'hommes c'est l'encoche inutile ou 1’entaille de hasard marquée dans la pierre qui lui fit, à son insu, rencontrer l'illégitime écriture de l'avenir, un avenir non théologique qui n'est, pas encore le nôtre”. Puisque le silence doit passer par l'écriture pour s'accomplir n'est-ce pas lui qui devient impossible ? Dans La Part du feu , commentant encore une fois Mallarmé, Blanchot cite ce texte : « L’aramature du poème a lieu parmi le blanc du papier, significatif silence qu'il n'est pas moins beau de composer que le vers. » Blanchot remarque que ce blanc matériel « est peut-être le dernier vestige du langage qui s'efface, le mouvement même de sa disparition, mais il apparaît davantage encore comme l'emblème matériel d'un silence qui pour se laisser représenter doit se faire chose, ce qui reste ainsi le scandale du langage, son paradoxe insurmontable ». Blanchot résume ce paradoxe en cette formule : « Tout proférer, c'est aussi proférer le silence. C'est donc empêcher que la parole redevienne jamais silencieuse. De cette impossibilité, Mallarmé ne s'est jamais affranchi. » On peut ajouter: de cette impossibilité Blanchot ne s'est jamais affranchi. Il y a chez Blanchot une nostalgie de l'effacement, un amour de la discrétion, une passion pour le silence qui n'échappe à aucun lecteur, mais, par une contradiction insurmontable, ce désir d'une parfaite absence ne cesse de se montrer, de se dire, sans pouvoir par conséquent jamais s'accomplir. « Si le propre du langage est de rendre nulle la présence qu'il signifie », mais si le silence parfait est inaccessible, que peut faire l'écrivain ? Se tenir dans cet entre-deux, aussi près que possible du silence, et c'est pourquoi Blanchot donne la préférence, en particulier dans son oeuvre de fiction, à toutes les formes de langage qui font penser au silence. Lisons dans Au moment voulu ce que le narrateur dit de Claudia « cantatrice sublime » : « Des voix liées harmonieusement à la désolation, à la misère anonyme, j’en avais entendu, je leur avais prêté attention, mais celle-ci était indifférente et neutre, repliée en une région vocale où elle se dépouillait si complètement de toutes perfections superflues qu'elle semblait, privée d'elle-même. Cette voix, que fait-elle entendre ? Contrairement au « pathétique des registres graves », la voix de Claudia laisse très peu entendre. Son amie lui disait : « Tu as fait ta voix de pauvre » on bien « tu as chanté en blanc “.

« Lorsqu'on a commencé à faire sa part au silence, il l'exige toujours plus grande »...

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p.s. So begins my last week in Japan. So begins your last week of rerun posts. Today on my end should be awesome because the plan is that I will have spent yesterday and today on this island called Naoshima, which you can read about here, if you're interested.

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'Do you ever wonder why some people don't seem to “get” you?
Have you ever felt you just didn't “connect” with a business prospect?
Are you enjoying lots of first dates, but second dates don't happen?
The answers are literally staring you in the face!

'The most unforgettable and unique feature of a human is his/her face. A trained face reader can read each facial feature and line on a face to develop an accurate profile of its owner. Each face reflects in its structures and lines its owner's personal history, mental attitudes, intimacy needs, ethics, emotional style, and verbal communication. Almost anything you want to know about a person is literally as plain as the nose on their face. Face reading gives you the facts you need to make important decisions, and alerts your perceptions to develop a deeper understanding of every person you will ever interact with.' -- Lin Klaassen, Facereadingsbylin.com
















WESTERN STYLE FACE READING

THE FOUR BASIC FACE SHAPES

You can easily recognise a "watery", emotional human being as the short and stocky type. If your facial shape and body structure is distinctly rounded and tending to a somewhat fleshy look, you'll fall into this category. Another designation for you is an endomorph. (the entirety)


THE HAIR

Your hair is a measure of physical insulation, endurance and overall strength. If your hair is fine, delicate and silky, you are sensitive and also likely to be fragile physically especially if you are of a slender build. Thick wiry hair is an indication of your physical prowess and your resilience in life. You have great recuperative powers and may like a challenge in life.


THE FOREHEAD

The Forehead can be broadly categorised as follows - A wide forehead expresses your cleverness and practicality - being someone capable of executing duty diligently. This gives you high idealism and a wealth of ideas. A high rounded and deep forehead depicts your idealism, but with a focus on strong friendship. A narrow forehead is considered an obstacle to fulfilment,especially in social situations. Constraints in family life. Need to think things through. (cont.)


THE EYES

The late Princess Diana and Michael Jackson share a feature of the eyes. They possess floating irises also known as sampaku. The whites are visible under the iris. This indicates an inner turbulence - a person at odds with the world. Though spiritual in nature, they are hard to please or understand and have very high expectations of others. Martin Luther King and Abraham Lincoln also shared these traits. (the entirety)


THE EYEBROWS

The eyebrow speaks of reputation, fame and temperament too. In many cases I have found a developed brow line also shows a high degree of dexterity or ability with the hands (engineers, electronics, civil engineers, drafts persons and architects). Individuals who are observant and who have to combine refined measurements with dexterity will have the brow line well developed. (cont.)


THE NOSE

The Ideal nose has a high, straight, full and fleshy tip with gently flared but protected nostrils. The fleshy tip indicates cordiality and warmth of personality. Deep empathy with others. Set high standards for themselves and are good mannered (Lailin). Oversized nose tip results in violent tendencies. The larger - the more prone to an act of violence. (the entirety)


THE PHILTRUM

The groove on the upper lip, below the nose is worth mentioning. It is called the philtrum. If it is clearly marked, deep and long, it augurs well for a strong and healthy energy levels and vitality. Flat, weak and unpronounced philtrums are a mark of reduced life force and drive.


THE MOUTH

If the lips are large it means an expensive and somewhat luxurious taste - but an expressive and generous temperament nonetheless. Often the large mouthed person can be very vocal under pressure, needing to verbalise, sometimes excessively, their dissatisfaction and frustration.(the entirety)


THE CHIN

This relates to the stamina of the individual and the stronger the jaw line the greater the degree of stamina and endurance. People with very strong jaw lines can sometimes be considered stubborn. If the jaw line exceeds the balance of other features in the face, don't be too hasty in your judgement as this may simply mean a person who has strong convictions and who is not easily swayed by the opinions of others. (cont.)


THE EARS

The ears should exhibit good, fleshy inner and outer helixes. Thin and poorly shaped outer helixes may reveal diminishing health. (the entirety)


THE CHEEKS

In describing the ideal cheeks, Santa Clause may spring to mind with his rosy and shiny set of chubby cheeks. But according to eastern opinion, the excessively shiny cheek is indicative of digestive trouble. The cheeks are a pretty good barometer of health changes from time to time. Keep a close watch on your own biological gauge your cheeks. (the entirety)








TWENTY CELEBRITY FACE READINGS

1. The Face of Ozzy Osbourne: Ozzy's outspoken manner has worked both for and against the famous rock star but at least he is dead honest! We are also aware of his trying health throughout the last two years and this is due to the hand of Saturn. His physical condition may yet have to suffer even more because of this. Notwithstanding the success of his television show and record sales, financial concerns after 2006 will also cause quite a bit of strain on him and his family. He will now need to carefully assess his fortunes in the light of this declining health. At heart Ozzy is kind and loving but has always exceeded his capacity for temperance. He obviously works and plays very hard. If Ozzy can sort out his finances just now, the next eighteen months will continue to be very successful for him and his popularity will increase as well. Some karmic influence with his eldest child will create a breakthrough in that relationship.

(the other nineteen)







Emotional Face Processing Research at Duke University (2:13)


Pet face reader Alan Ngan Shui Lun (2:07)


Lynn Scheurell reads Becky Waters (3:26)


Barbara Roberts reads Marianne (1:58)






CHINESE FACE READING THE WOOD FACE The wood type has a long face and long nose, a broad and high forehead and narrow cheeks. The eyes should have a kindly look, and the hair and eyebrows should not be thick or wiry. The forehead should be high and wide in wood as mental direction is important for this elemental type. Wood has the energy of growth, seeing the overall picture and a vision of the future, planning and seeing through projects. Wood types with balanced faces are leaders, administrators and organisers with strong ideals. They are capable of shouldering much responsibility and willing to work for the benefit of others. They need to grow and achieve, as this is the way they learn about themselves and their path in life. One of the challenges of the wood element is to be able to “see the wood for the trees” and not get enmeshed in structures. The Chinese say that a balanced wood face is a pre-requisite for Government. THE FIRE FACE The fire type also has a long face with narrow, prominent cheekbones, pointed chin and a more pointed forehead than the wood type. They may have freckles, red, curly or wiry hair, rapid speech and quick body movements. The fire element brings warmth and enthusiasm to the personality with a capacity to inspire and get people “fired up”. They are active and outdoorsy, goal centred, fast paced and adventurous. They can sometimes take crazy risks, and constantly seek stimulation and excitement. THE EARTH FACE Earth personalities are characterised by short square faces with distinct jawlines, sallow complexions, thickset bodies and deep voices. The features can be large, especially the mouth which relates to the stomach and intestines. Earth has the ability to be still and to build a solid base in life. THE METAL FACE The metal face is oval with widely set, chevron cheekbones and a pale complexion. Usually good looking, they have clear, shining eyes with a lot of energy coming out of them. The eyebrows are pale, the speech is clipped and the hair is usually straight. They are good advisers, lawyers and counsellors. Metal is the element of the mind and so they are strong willed and solve their own problems. A good sense of humour, lively outlook and hardworking attitudes are all facets of metal at its best. At its worst, it can become toxic with negative thoughts, cut off and caustic, with a “why is this happening to me?” mentality. Metal types also make good teachers and healers. When depressed, they suffer with diseases of the respiratory system and lower intestines. It is important for them to breathe deeply to let in the heavenly Qi and to make sure that they eat good quality food with lots of minerals, and stay away from junk food which can be difficult for them to eliminate. They tend to respond well to psychotherapy, homoeopathy, Bach flower remedies and treatment protocols which are rational and well thought out. To feel happy, they need to express their creativity or the bright shining metal gets dull and rusty. Classic metal faces: Charlotte Rampling and Lauren Bacall who used their metal creativity in their acting careers. THE WATER FACE Water personalities can be recognised by their round, chubby, soft faces and sometimes, rotund bodies. Large soft eyes are a water feature as is dark hair and colouring. Water people are quiet and gentle, much ruled by sensation and susceptible to any appeal to the emotions. They are good communicators and storytellers and are sensitive, and aware of trends either at work or society. They can be psychic and make good listeners, carers and counsellors. There is an aliveness and vitality about clear water which can attract what it needs like a magnet, unlike wood types, for example, who decide what they want and then make a plan about how to get it. If the water is clear, they have strong reserves and the ability to flow freely in any situation. If it gets stagnant through unexpressed emotions, the skin can develop a blue tinge with dark rings under the eyes. Chinese Face Reading for Health



*

p.s. Hey. Personology, dig it again. I'm on my way to or already in Hiroshima now. We're spending one day there, or that was the original plan. I guess we're probably looking at all the stuff there that you yourself would imagine choosing to look at if you were in Hiroshima. Maybe you or some of you or one of you is actually in Hiroshima right now. That would be trippy.

----

* text collaged from Francine du Plessix Gray, Slate/Tony Perrottet, Angelique Chrisafis/The Guardian, Provence Guide, and Kiraku.tv


The Marquis de Sade's castle is in a little village called Lacoste, only 25 miles east of Avignon in Provence, southern France's most seductive idyll of lavender fields, vineyards, and quaint B&Bs. Sade moved into this castle in 1771 in an attempt to escape the scandal he had provoked in Paris. The Marquis had inherited this castle from his grand-father in 1716. The building originally had 42 rooms, a theatre and a chapel. The castle was pillaged during the French Revolution and finally demolished in 1816, with its hewn-stones being sold piece by piece.





Sade's castle at La Coste, a pinnacle of pale gray fieldstone commanding breathtaking views over the valleys of the Vaucluse, sits on a flat, rocky two-acre plateau that surmounts its village like a hovering eagle. As we see it in our own century, it only retains its moat, parts of its walls and ramparts, and a few half-demolished rooms; and from a distance the building now evokes the toothless face of a ravaged giant. Yet this arid site, scorched by sun in summer, ravaged in winter by icy winds, in every way extreme, is still one of the most romantic sites in France, and as evocative a ruin as you will see in Europe. It conjures forth the bloodthirsty monks, the gruesomely debauched noblemen and the persecuted virgins who live in Sade's novels more flamboyantly than in any other French fiction of his century.





'I parked by a medieval fortress wall; ahead lay a stone arch engraved with the words Le Portail des Chèvres, the Goats' Gate, the entrance to the upper part of the village. The houses were shuttered, so I walked cautiously up a steep alley, trying not to slip on the uneven cobblestones as the rain gushed in a channel between my feet, then I climbed a trail littered with weeds and loose chunks of masonry. And there was the Château Sade. It still appeared to be half ruin, with a veil of crumbling outer walls, yet the core has been renovated to a habitable state.' -- Tony Perrottet





This 42-room redoubt was Sade's most beloved residence. He visited it often as a child, and after his father gave it to him as a wedding present in 1763, he lived here for long stretches of his 20s and 30s—his feral prime. The château soon became the core of his fertile imaginative life. As biographer Francine du Plessix Gray points out in her classic At Home With the Marquis de Sade, its position hovering above the village fed Sade's outdated fantasies of feudal inviolability, where he could act out his rabid carnal desires with no fear of reprisal. Even while he was in prison, the château remained a font of inspiration for Sade's grisly literary works—a Walden Pond for the polymorphously perverse.





Essentially, the château was the mise-en-scène for some of his more outrageous real-life escapades. To take one example, it became the setting of a light-hearted romp dubbed by biographers "The Little-Girls Episode." At the end of 1774, the charismatic, 34-year-old marquis came to winter at Lacoste with his family and a string of fresh-faced household servants he'd hired in Lyon, including five unsuspecting virgins. These were intended to supplement his more knowing staff, such as the lovely housekeeper Gothon, whom Sade had hired because she sported "the sweetest ass ever to leave Switzerland," and the studly male valet Latour, by whom Sade liked to be sodomized while prostitutes watched and cavorted. For the next six weeks, Sade dedicated himself to corrupting the captive minors. As far as historians can discern, he held them hostage in the château's dungeon, forcing them to act out scenes from pornographic literature as well as Sade's own intricately stage-managed sexual rituals. (A control freak, Sade like to choreograph every detail: As a character complains in one of his comic fictions, "Let's please put some order into these orgies!") Modern French wives are legendarily indulgent of their husbands' peccadilloes, but Sade's wife, Pélagie, took spousal freedom to new levels by overseeing this marathon debauch, keeping the five girls compliant, and then hushing up the ensuing scandal. When the police came knocking, she helped bribe the outraged parents and spirit the girls, decidedly damaged goods, away to convents.





'I puddle-jumped through the castle's former moat and climbed in the pelting rain up to the wild plateau of Sade's old estate. This was once a splendid garden and orchard, where the dashing young marquis and his three children would frolic on summer days. (He was, by all accounts, a devoted father, with a fondness for playacting and games like hide-and-seek and musical chairs.) Perched on a strategic precipice, was a shiny, new bronze sculpture of the Divine Marquis himself. Erected in the summer of 2008, it displays Sade's bewigged 18th-century head surrounded by a cage—Sade the perpetual prisoner. After being seized by police during a night raid in 1777, he spent most of his life in prisons and nuthouses, including 13 years in the Bastille and 11 in Charenton Asylum, the setting for the film Quills. Both proved futile efforts to censor his literary outpourings.' -- Tony Perrottet





Some 40 years after Sade's death, poet Baudelaire wrote that if a statue of Sade were ever erected, thousands would come to lay flowers at its feet. Well, the crowds might have been thin on this rainy day in October, but there's no question that the marquis can bring in the fans. His presence in Lacoste 250 years ago has given the village a notoriety it might otherwise lack. And what began as a trickle of a few lecherous pilgrims has escalated exponentially since the Château Sade was snapped up by—of all people—Pierre Cardin, the elderly haute couturier based in Paris.





The billionaire fashion icon was evidently tickled by the Sade connection when he purchased the decrepit castle seven years ago for a nominal 1 million francs, including 70 acres of the estate and an oil painting of the marquis. In the village, rumors flew: Some said Cardin was related to Sade; others whispered that Cardin is bisexual and thus wanted to vindicate the broad-minded writer's memory; still others alleged he was looking for some mythical Sade family treasure. Since then, Cardin has renovated the château as his holiday residence and has started an annual summer arts festival on the grounds, luring crowds from Paris and the Riviera.





And Cardin has certainly caused more tumult in Lacoste than anyone since Sade himself: In recent years, the fashion designer has been buying many of the village's historic structures in a real-estate grab along the lines of Ted Turner in Montana. The reaction among some villagers has been violent. Lacoste is being torn apart by a miniature civil war with a viciousness that only the French can manage. The ageing couturier says he wants to "leave his mark" by turning Lacoste into a refuge for world artists, complete with luxury hotels, a top restaurant, a de Sade cafe and a piano bar. But a growing group of villagers warn that his plans are ruining this Provençal community.





Lacoste, once a Protestant and later a communist stronghold, is no stranger to rebellion. Campaigners have already gone to a tribunal to stop Cardin building a Greek amphitheatre in the local quarry. But the row escalated this week after Cardin insinuated in a TV interview that his village opponents were bumpkins who didn't understand his great vision. They now call him an egotistical "invader" bent on killing village life.





On the tiny square at the top of winding cobbled streets, 85-year-old Cardin steps out of his black BMW in designer glasses and a tweed waistcoat, on his weekly inspection of his rural empire. Rue de Basse, the tiny, main village street now hosts 12 building sites bearing Cardin's name. He has bought more than 20 houses and owns almost the whole quaint and winding street. The newspaper shop has his name over the door, he has built two galleries, a boulangerie, a boutique and plans a restaurant and two hotels. He owns two castles, employs dozens of people on his projects, and a van emblazoned with "Pierre Cardin perfumes" can be seen regularly climbing the hill.






"I'm happy here," Cardin says. "I just want to make the village beautiful." He declines to comment on the outrage caused when he recently likened himself to a "seigneur" and said that while other rich people gamble or collect stamps, "I collect houses."



Cardin


Sade


'The Marquis de Sade at La Coste', by Francine du Plessix Gray
Pierre Cardin's Lacoste Village
Marquis de Sade's Castle: A Graphic Stroll
The Luberon in Provence
Marquis De Sade Castle T-shirt


Etc.









Jonas Mekas 'Taylor Mead and Jerome Hill @ Sade's Castle, o.a., 1966' (6:42)


Lacoste (1:26)


Unveiling of the Marquis de Sade bust and the Festival Lacoste (3:06)
----




*

p.s. Hey. Poor Sade's castle maybe. As for me, I'll be leaving Hiroshima and traveling by train/ferry to Miyajima Island today, where I will be spending today and part of tomorrow. The reason we decided to go there is because in all the various polls of foreign tourists who have traveled to Japan, Miyajima Island is almost always voted the favorite place they visited. I guess we'll be finding out why.

----

Background:

'40 Acres is the misnomer that was given to what was actually about 29 acres of land in Culver City, California, first used as a movie studio backlot in 1926 by Cecil DeMille, after he leased the property from Italian immigrate Achille Casserini (on March 22, 1926). DeMille's production company utilized the backlot for numerous silent films, including The King of Kings (1927), for which a large Jerusalem temple and town were constructed, The Fighting Eagle (1927), The Forbidden Woman (1927) and The Godless Girl (1929), DeMille's last silent, and for which a large reform school set was built on the lot.



'In 1928, DeMille's Culver City studio and backlot were acquired by RKO Pictures, whose films which employed the backlot included Bird of Paradise (1932) and the 1933 classic, King Kong. In 1937, David Selznick acquired the property in a long-term lease, and used the backlot to re-create a Civil War-era Atlanta for his 1939 epic Gone With The Wind (after filming the burning of numerous leftover sets on the lot, including the "King Kong" gate, to depict the burning of Atlanta in the film).



'Under a variety of owners over the next two decades, the backlot appeared in dozens of films, and by the early 1950's, the lot began to appear in television productions, including The Adventures of Superman. Pictured above in an aerial view from 1963, the backlot had recently changed ownership to Desilu Studios. For the next ten years, the backlot would provide outdoor locales for Desilu's own television productions, as well as for series produced by others.



'Some of the notable series filmed on 40 Acres included Hogan's Heroes, Batman, Mission: Impossible, The Untouchables, Star Trek, Gomer Pyle, and The Andy Griffith Show for which the streets of Atlanta constructed for Gone With The Wind served as the town of "Mayberry." Paramount Pictures eventually bought out Desilu, and in 1968, sold off the Culver City studio facilities. As the studio continued to change hands, the "40 Acres" backlot fell out of use and into disrepair in the early 1970's, and in 1976 it was bulldozed and the land was sold to industry.' -- Retroweb.com


1972

The movies, shows, sets:

Bonanza

Land of the Giants

Gone With the Wind

Forbidden Woman

Miracle of the Bells

Attack!

Fighting Eagle

The Godless Girl

Gomer Pyle

King Kong

The King of Kings

My Three Sons

The Set Up

The Real McCoys

Tarzan

Mayberry RFD

The Untouchables

The Story of GI Joe

Mission: Impossible

Andy Griffith Show

Vigilante Force

Hogan's Heroes

The Adventures of Superman

StarTrek

Batman

----




*

p.s. Hey. Back in the early '80s, I lived about, oh, 15 blocks away from the spot where 40 Acres used to be. Wow, the Japan trip is almost over now. Today we travel from Miyajima Island back to Tokyo where we'll spend a couple days before flying back to Paris. I bet we've had a really great time. Seems logical to think so. Anyway, ...

----



The Mercado de Sonora (The Sonora Market), inaugurated on September 23, 1957, is located within the commercial center of Mexico City. The market, a labyrinth of stalls that cover a few city blocks, has arguably the highest concentration of shamans, santeros, voodoo and stalls offering the implements of witchcraft and black and white magic in the world.





Stalls are flooded with a seemingly infinite variety of powders, sprays, soaps and incense that claim, through bright colors and illustrations, to help one find a job, money or love, to ward off evil spells, cast hexes, or help children do well in school. The dozens of brujas and brujos (female and male witches), chamanes (shamans) and santeros (priests of the African-based santería) attend clients within the market.





Working out of stalls, many of them the size of a large closet, these healers perform limpias (spiritual cleansings), healing rituals, initiations and predictions. All the materials needed for these and other ritual practices are sold in the hundreds of small botánicas within the Sonora Market, while the birds used in the ritual sacrifices can be bought live and squawking a few yards away.





To kill a man, explains Alejandro Rozos, a warlock who practices his craft in one dark corner of the market, all you need is a black cloth doll, some thread, a human bone and a toad. Oh, and you must ask the devil permission, in person, at a cave in the hills outside Mexico City where he is said to appear. Assuming you have these things, plus the green light from the prince of darkness, you simply lash the doll to the bone, shove it down the unfortunate toad’s throat, sew up its lips and take the whole mess to a graveyard, reciting the proper words.





“The person will die within 30 days,” Mr. Gallegos said matter of factly, as if he were talking of fixing a broken carburetor. (The toad dies too, by the by.) “There exists good and bad in the world, there exists the devil and God,” he went on, turning a serpent’s fang in his rough fingers. “I work in white magic and in black magic. But there are people who dedicate themselves only to evil.”





"There are many charlatans here, people who walk through the market and say 'I'm the chief wizard,' but they don't deliver," said veteran shaman Jose Luis Martinez. Martinez and a handful of other shamans who say they can barter souls to the Devil for wealth or power as well as intervene with God for good health or love say most practitioners are just putting the tourists on.





Martinez has two stalls. In one, a bleeding Jesus swoons on a cross over a white altar lighted by white candles. In the other, where Martinez keeps ancient tomes of dark magic like "The Supreme Book" (El Libro Supremo) and "The Anti-Christ" (El Anti-Cristo), a furious red devil rages above a black altar. "I could not take you to the dark stall for a cleansing because you would be terrified by such a gloomy place," Martinez said.





The dark side of wizardry, known in the trade as the esoteric arts, is full of danger. Politicians seeking political revenge, the avaricious who desire unlimited wealth and the hate-filled who want an enemy to die in a car crash have to sell their souls to Lucifer.





As a shaman, Martinez said, he acted as an interlocutor, taking clients to a cave in the mountains filled with vipers where they could strike a personal deal with the demon. But it requires a lot of strength. "The evil spirit is so ugly, with long hairs on his face and fingernails as long as this (about three inches), that you cannot look him in the eye because you would be paralyzed with fright ... and then he would take you away," Martinez said.





In a conversation full of legend and lore, he sighed at the sacrifices a shaman has to make to serve the dreams, both evil and good, of his clients. Sitting in the waiting room of his stall, the walls decorated with tinsel Valentine's hearts, a photograph of the sacred mountain and a small notebook with a bosomy girl on its cover, he said he had had to offer the souls of seven of his family to gain the powers he possessed.





"It's a hard life, so full of sacrifice," he said. But he insisted there was more good than evil in his trade, saying God created the Devil and therefore God was dominant.











Mercado Magico: Mercado de Sonora (4:39)


A walk through Mercado de Sonora (1:25)


Supermana at El Mercado de Sonora (2:59)



Stalking Light and Life: Interview with a Mercado de Sonora Healer

'At the beginnings of time, there were two parts that controlled the stability of the planet: the good and the bad. Since these are two extremes, a fusion becomes a saint... the balance.

'Saints desired more power so they discovered red magic and green magic.

'Red magic is a very powerful energy, and uses blood from sacrifices or donations.

'Green magic is based on nature; herbs. It does good or bad to the humans. There are very powerful herbs that may kill humans, so everything depends on what is used.

'Most of the people doing this, are not aware of the foundations of how to handle magic. A lot of them have read literature from undocumented sources that worked for a particular case, and most likely won't work for other cases.

'Black magic by itself does no harm... you need to have a combination: a duality.

'There are four main types of magic: Black magic, green magic, red magic, white magic: four elements: Water Earth Wind and Fire.

'Many recipes or preparations just use a couple of types of magic, without considering the others... for the product to work, you need the presence of four... it's like a two-feet table.

'I'm 53, and I've been doing this since I was 12. There's nothing I haven't read... but many don't know a thing. I was taught by ascended teachers whose names I can't mention.'

(the entirety)












----




*

p.s. Hey. Interesting, strange place, no? Ever been there? I haven't. I'm in Tokyo doing whatever last things that I need and want to there before departing Japan. One more pre-programmed post tomorrow, and then, whoa, I'll be back behind the controls of this place again live and in person.

___________________

twiggy, 19
If you want to RIP a HOLE, just send me a MESSAGE...

(Not so hot for anything torturous, sorry sado's)

Please look like me. Not that I'm shallow but it helps for hookups.

I'm loud. Please have poppers.






____________________

RedButtonDoomsday, 22
Just looking for purple to rape me and maybe killed








____________________

PsychodramaSlave, 19
I should say that I am a 19 year old college student. I am 5 feet and 7 inches tall, and 125 pounds in weight. I have dark blue eyes with gray/green circles around my pupils. My haircut and color changes often due to some quirks leftover from my high school years, I currently have spiky auburn hair, but I'm waiting patiently to be on my way back to my beloved mohawk.

As I said earlier, I have some quirks leftover from the luck of being able to work with bands when I was in high school. Most of these bands I worked with were visual/glam rock bands, meaning they had eccentric fashions, hairstyles, and stage makeup. It was a unique atmosphere that got me interested in androgyny and my appearance, although I do not let it control my life even remotely.

While I am very loving, I am not good at supporting a relationship or another person's insecurities alone. I need for my significant others to be strong-willed and have the ability to manage their insecurities while also being vulnerable enough to admit to them and accept my support in getting past them.

A new interest I have developed, which I would love to start informative dialogues on, is the pack mentality. My general view of them is akin to that of a poly family, with members falling into the dominant "alpha" role, versatile (or sub-dominant) "beta" role, and submissive "omega" role. I would greatly appreciate anyone who is willing to converse with me on the subject to inform me of the practice of this style.

I'm sorry it took so long to get it all out! I'm an avid writer, so I tend to lose track when I get started.

If you stuck around and read the entire thing: thank you dearly! Come get a hug.





__________________

canemynuts, 24
Want to cane my nuts? Punish my balls, then slide on in me and hold them firmly till your last load, then when I'm gonna cum squeeze all the cum out of my nuts with your hands.






_________________

AmputateMyFeetPlease, 21
Please Amputate My Feet. Please cut them off. More than anything I want both my feet amputated. I want my feet cut off. I am willing to pay anyone to amputate my feet / cut my feet off.







_____________________

247ownedslave, 25
its jerry all bottom who want a daddy pr a bear some one.

it hate the soft shit birches call love.

it loves eating ass underarms it likes to b Forest





______________________

slavetocastrate, 23
1) I understand and agree that the following
conditions are a nonnegotiable part of this agreement:
a) This relationship with evolve over one or more
meetings over a period of time.
b) The castration may be done at any point during this
relationship.
c) This relationship will involve extreme testicle
abuse as well as any other sexual abuse.
d) The abuse may cause sever pain, discomfort and
swelling. Also the abuse may lead to destruction of
the testicles even though they may still be physically
attached and that this condition does not preclude
them from being removed at a later time or from
receiving additional abuse.

2) Enforcement:
a) Use of Force:
I realize that since I will have no prior knowledge of
the exact date and time of my castration that I may
develop a temporary reluctance to be castrated at the
moment of its execution. I have researched and
thought about this procedure for many years I know
that this is what I truly desire. Because of my
desire to be castrated, I am asking and giving my
consent to the Holder(s) to insure that I be castrated
and that they use whatever means necessary to
castrated me at that time.

3) Sessions:
a) The length of a session is a minimum of 8
hours. Any session may be longer by simply notifying
me prior to beginning the exact length beyond the 8
hour minimum. There is no maximum as long as it is
stated prior to beginning.
b) A session may be conducted at any private
non-public location.
c) The Holder(s) may request a session at
anytime
d) The Holder(s) may request a session at
anytime in my city. This requires no travel distance
and only minor other arrangements. I will make myself
available to the Holder(s) within a maximum of 8 hours
after being notified.

4) Possession and Termination of this agreement:
a) This agreement will remain in
effect until it is terminated.
b) Once signed, this agreement shall
remain in the possession of the Holder(s) until it is
terminated.
c) To terminate this agreement:
PRIOR to beginning a session I must be given the
opportunity to destroy the original. Once destroyed
this agreement is terminated. This is the only time
that this agreement may be terminated. Once a session
has begun this agreement cannot be terminated until
the beginning of the next session without exception.

5) The Holder(s) agree to the following:
a) The castration will be done only
after a verbal approval from my MASTER
b)








____________________

curiousnerd, 19
I'm alone. I'm nineteen ;) I'm seeking real cop. I want to make love. If you want I could travel for no coming back.

DO NOT MESSAGE IF YOU ARE MORE THEN 20 KMS AWAY I REPEAT DO NOT MESSAGE IF YOU ARE MORE THEN 20KM AWAY THANK YOU.





_____________________

AsLongAsWeAreDead, 20
I have been interested in becoming property since I hit puberty. I have always felt that I am inferior to Real Men, and I have made it my life goal to completely surrender to someone. To me, this is not a game. I need this. Dear my God,

I am a flight attendant, and can fly to you for free quite frequently until I become 24/7. Please do not let distance scare You away. I can make it happen.

Key words:

RAW, DP, RIM, SCAT, BLOOD, BB, ASS 2 MOUTH (A2M) also M2A and then A2M and then M2A, FEET PLUGGING, GRENADING, ASS BOMBING, flipping the penguin, electro, garden parties, swap and slipping, and of course, DOUBLE HANDED PUNCH FISTING.

Phew.





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josephmay, 18
Studied at high school but im stopped hmm. I am a no good pot head that smoke it ever day. Cant do any thing right. I want a men with a big dick that will do what I tell him to do. No matter to who!





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Depravedteen, 20
Hi. I love to please the WHITE MAN. I hope i have come to the right place, as i'm keen to discover who i am. I have extreme sexual desires that i want act out. I'm young and only have had 2 boyfriends and I'm in shape to be all kinds of fucked up. I am the try anything type and i want to meet guys that i will give me what i want. My interests

Rape and gangrape
Scat smearing and forced swallowing
Beating, kicking and violent sex
Extreme BDSM
Cutting, blading and edgeplay
Play execution scenes involving hanging and impalement
Anal spreading, insertion and torture
Brutal CBT
Suspension and body stretching
Body modification and branding
Toilet bowl cleaner
Human Ashtray play
Fisting and Punch fisting
Pins, tacs and staple gun play

I dont see the point in bottling it up. Make me scream, make me cry, make me suffer, make me bleed. Anyone with a medeival view of bdsm please get in touch. I want to be raped in stocks, beaten and bloodied on a whipping post and tortured on a rack.

My name is Alex Young. I'm also known as Alex Anarchy. Someone help me.





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4shame, 24
forced Gunge humiliate
idiot buffon musterung auslachen
peinlich bondage Hazing household
servant butler spank dumm object service
laughing clown dumbass role







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Smackme, 23
When in the presence of a real man, I am always on the floor. I don't deserve to be eye level with any man. I am, at the highest, on my knees. Eye level with the most important part of any Real Man, his cock. So whenever Sir asks, his magnificent cock is in my mouth. I am shaved. From my armpits, to my cock and ass I am shaved. Body hair is for real men, and I am not a real man. I don't deserve to look like a real man. I do get to finger my hole for five minutes. My Orgasm lasts about 30 seconds and I eat all of my cum. Thank you Master. This faggot is grateful.





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suicida, 19
slave I think I am, in my brain my head, never had sex before just on my own, I still live with my parents, I want to find a real Master to hypnotise, get me drunk, force poppers on me, knock me out cold then become his boy his slave with no return possible no freedom no more contact with previous life if such a Master exits, please Im leaking pre-cum.






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TheGuilty, 19
NOT interested in chubby and feminine.
No offense~

Just for your info about me
• I'm Justin
• 19years old
• I'm into dumb men so I prefer and will accept dumb men only! (sorry!)
• smoker (willing to quit for my bf (currently no bf) if he dislike it and want me to quit!)
• Like something stinky, hairy armpit, ass, piss and many more :p
• Also ass
• Let me make it clear who I'm not looking for: teenagers

FUCK MY little, smooth, Perfect YUMMY ass! U-lalala! Even me, my mouth is watering when i see my ass! lol. I wish I cud reach it. IM COMPLETELY SERIOUS.

Also intrested in real time gay marriage with a polyamorous dominant top who lives for his lust and who understands and accepts my deviant nature and is eager to exploit it. I will accept and sign any kind of prenupt, likewise any kind of divorce settlement afterwards and a follow up marriage arranged by you as my ex husband.





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HalfWitTom, 26
Hi guys can come on now. I always got sexed up seeing leather boots n jackets n gloves n pants since i was like 14. Im gonna be senior next year now. i pi cture n think bout me being kneeled n kissing a guys boots n that. feeling a glove on me n arm round me or like kneeling at guys package in leather pants too. Its all hot to worship leather guysn be under a boot step on my chest or on my neck. Dream bout it lots. Ok thats me. Ok i just did as told added picture of only boots I own didnt know sorry. If i have to do something else let me know.






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kickmyballshard, 22
Stressed? Release the tension.

Just a pair of bollocks for you to use. Kick them, grind them under your heel, whack them with a rubber mallet, pulp them in the crusher, enjoy yourself, have fun, don't worry.





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David, 18
EMO SLAVE DAVID DOES NOT YET KNOW THAT I HAVE CREATED THIS ACCOUNT FOR HIM. WILL TELL HIM AFTER FURTHER TRAPPING HIM.

*Note from Master: This whore has a horrible reputation. I hope I will be able to fix that. I was searching through some of my daily Tumblr blacmail/humiliation blogs when I came across this pigs pictures (shown in profile). Then I saw him on here and I had to grab him. I have found out much personal info about the whore including his home address, parents address, work address, and more. To scare him I sent a nude picture of him to his house to prove I have his info. Lets just say he will behave :). Give him a chance. I promise you I will punish him if he doesnt behave.**

Hello I am a owned slut who has a great Master that wants to have guys be my mini Masters and help my Master in degrading, humiliating, and whoring me out. I am going to be known all over town as nothing but a used cum and piss bucket that takes loads in the ass and mouth.

The only limits will be what my Master say they are. And that is NO LIMITS. Once this guy had me tied up and he would literally whip me till I bled. Then He would do extreme breath control with a bag over my head till I sometimes passed out. He would keep me chained up in a cage for days. It was scary at first but then I just loved it.

** Master has set the guideline that there is no limits as to what the Sirs that use me can do to me. The only limit is that after the session is over and if you haven't snuffed me there may not be any signs of permanent ownership (tattoos, brandings, piercings, etc.) when I leave, or You leave.**






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Helpful, 18
Don't even know if anyone will read this, but fuck it! I am one of those people who used to care too much, I'd let people push me around and tell me what to do, and even try to tell me who to speak to and who I could see, not anymore, I have stopped caring, I only care if it's essential and relevant, for example, helping people with their erections, I love helping people get rid of their erections and apparently my body can do whatever that takes, so yeah, I like helping. I am one of those people that if fucking me doesn't help, I want you to seriously let me know about it, and I will deal with a shit load of abuse if that's what it takes to help you. I am a pretty fucking awesome person, if I do say so myself.







*

p.s. Hey. Here's your second fresh, new vacation post, and it's a harbinger of things to come since I'll be giving you nothing but newness again, not to mention my daily two cents, starting on Monday. In my real world, I'm either on a plane wending towards Paris or already in Paris as you read this. I guess I'll be able to tell you about the actual rather than theoretical Japan trip the next time I see you, which, as I said, will be on Monday. It'll be great to see those of you who haven't moved on to other blogs while I was away. So, see you ultra-soon.