April 25, 2007
Shriveled parched and white.
Cursed by sweet kisses false
In the heat of spring,
These “softest lips” now sting.
The flesh-lover inspected and adored
Through a magnifying glass.
Once satisfied, left the instrument to rest there
Coaxing and directing a branding sun.
Plucked ripe and scalped, her scorched
Lips on display for all to see,
In the attic windows along the river Ill.
No balm could unrip,
No cream could uncrush.
No jelly could uncrinkle
Wounded pride for the unseen.
Curled like a fetus, her head rested on the smooth enamel.
The shower water ran over her, collected between her belly and
Thighs, and scalded her as she slept,
Waking intermittently to lap in the splash.
April 25, 2007
We thought the Abstinence Club was bad. What happens when someone suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder goes environ-mental? “Voluntary Extinction of Humanity Movement“. The basic premise is that we should all get sterilized or use contraception all the time to save the planet… from ourselves. Read: “Live long and die out” and have lots of hippie sex in the meantime, cause life isn’t all “gloom and doom” after all. Punch line: founder’s name is Les U. Knight. Crazy, but funny nonetheless, because utterly harmless. But only because utterly harmless.
Azis & Desi Slava – Znam, che boli
I’m not quite sure which part is my favourite of this video (the song itself is crap, yes.)– the immense fake breasts, the immense fake hair, and the transparent dress on her or Azis’ mermaid outfit… or the fact that he’s somehow getting away with this in BULGARIA? Not exactly a country known for a gay-friendly attitude. But regardless… he’s HILARIOUS.
April 22, 2007
April 19, 2007
Dear Jeans Manufacturers of the World:
I love your jeans. I really do. But if there was any way you could just add one more measly inch of fabric in the back, so that those of us afflicted with Junk in the Trunk (TM) would not have to flash our underwear choices to the world and avoid conspiratorial smiles with the be-mutton-chopped nasty perv weirdo who lurks around the library and is sitting directly behind us, we would vastly appreciate it. You see, some of your consumers actually are not shaped like sticks. Some of us actually have thighs of some sort (crazy, isn’t it?) that require us to buy larger sized jeans in order to be able to shove said thighs into said jeans, leaving an ill-fitting MESS, wherein nothing really fits and tops of jeans slide down, a.) creating the dread muffintop, and b.) drastically increading chances of BUTT FLASHAGE. We would rather appreciate it if you would actually consider the variety of female body parts next time you’re coming up with a design.
Also, if you were to make the inner-thigh area of slightly tougher material we would really appreciate it. Strangely, not everyone has room to drive a Buick through the gap between their legs.
A vaguely ranty customer.
A good argument for a minimum IQ requirement before allowing fertility in people… Jeeeeeesus.
Apologies for the lack of posts… temporary insanity has set in, and I’ve had to put a lot of things on hold as I try to struggle out from under this mound of STUFF I have to do.
In the meantime, this repulses me. Pre-melted chocolate in a nasty little foild container? Yeugh.
April 15, 2007
Enjoy the foreign-ness/nordic-tude of these Jens Lekman lyrics:
Flock of birds in the sky
Flying south, they know this place will die
And I wish they could take me with them
But I would not be accepted
‘Cause I can’t dance the funky chicken
I can’t dance the funky chicken
(sorry for the shortness of this post – have to get ready to schmooze at the Capitol and recover from my dream…)
So first off, because I check this blog “often”, I perpetually have it in mind that today’s date corresponds with whatever date is at the top of the latest entry. And so, ever since Wednesday, I have been dating everything – checks and notebooks mainly – April 11th. This obviously wouldn’t raise an eyebrow on Wednesday but when someone asks what the date is and I adamantly defend that today the 13th is in fact the 11th, well then, that’s a sign. That’s sign that posting daily is more than just sharing a thought. It keeps me/the-other-people-who-don’t-know-what-today-is in step with time and thus contributes to tidying up the disorder of the universe.
I received a cryptic message from Last.fm in a language whose alphabet I was unfamiliar with. The mystery unravelled itself quite soon, revealing that a cute young Andre from Belarus contacted me (supposedly cute young resident of the United States) in French, asking to share music. Apparently one of my favorite metrosexual French singers, Raphael, has a Russian homologue, “the Russian Raphael”. So I would like to get in touch with this Andre, but have a terrible confession to make (actually two): (1) I buy a lot of music on i-tunes and my raphael album just might be one of those impulse buys and (2) I don’t know how to share music files. (cringe cringe cringe)
Дата:Апр 13 2007, 11:21
Salut! Je m’appele Andre, j’habite en Bielorussie. Est-ce que tu paeut m’aider? je cherche l’album de Raphael “La realite” et Hotel…”, tu les as? J’adore les chansons de lui. Comme langue etranger j’apprends le francais. En ehange je suis pret t’envoyer les fichiers de russian Raphael, il s’appele Ilya Lagutenco. Merci, Andre. [his email goes here]
There was more in Belarusian or Russian (I can’t tell), but I think it technical. And you know how I dread anything technical that requires a manual. (Don’t tell R.T.F.M. Ranko;-)
And lastly, something really good happened to me the other day. I received a compliment from my TF for “revealing the core anxiety” of the novel Brideshead Revisited in my post. In general I am pretty good at revealing core anxieties, but given my inferiority complex with the English language, that was really encouraging. Have you read the book? I would assume “yes”, but if not, put it at the top of your extended reading list. Then we can watch the 9-part series together and teehee at a homoerotic Jeremy Irons.
So here tis:
Re: Charles and Artistry – with more on sensations
I agree with Tiffany that Sebastian seems to have influence over Charles’ artistry: “It was not until Sebastian, idly turning the page of Clive Bell’s Art, and read “Does anyone feel the same kind of emotion for a butterfly or a flower that he feels for a cathedral or a picture?” Yes I do’, that my eyes were opened.” (23) Apparently, Clive Bell is a proponent of art as aesthetics, not representation or imitation. Were Charles’ eyes opened then to seeing beauty for beauty’s sake and the emotion therein? Or to what Oxford (and life) “had to offer” ? (23) It seems that, ultimately, Sebastian has awakened Charles to the idea of “sensation”. But Charles retains a desire to know more about objects and things beyond their appearances. For example, Sebastian chastises Charles for caring about the dates when architectural features in his mansion were built and not simply being arrested by (and at) its “prettiness”. Charles seems to go beyond Sebastian’s teachings in wanting to know things more intimately. As such, this newfound appreciation of “sensations” seems to be intimately linked to a sense of reality. Upon reentering his room after his first encounter with Sebastian, Charles finds it altered: “Nothing except the golden daffodils seemed real. Was it the screen? I turned it to face the wall. That was better.” (28) The Omega screen – a representation – no longer suits Charles’ newfound aesthetics under Sebastian’s influence. It is later sold off. (53) The nature of the Omega screen illuminates our understanding of what Charles is rejecting. Of the painter, Roger Fry, an art gallery website writes: “In 1913, Roger Fry organized the Omega Workshops, a collective that encouraged the involvement of young artists in the design and decoration of everyday functional objects. It remained active until 1919. The radical innovations in artmaking were known to Fry but his own painting focused on ideas of unity – “the design” of image, composition and colour, rather than what he described as “sensation” or the notion of “visual invention” for its own sake. Fry’s paintings are true to nature and visions of the everyday, and favoured the landscape as subject…” Thus it appears that Sebastian’s encounter with Charles has enhanced the latter’s ability to grasp “sensations” or reject merely representational forms of art. Furthermore, seeing as literary references are already featured on the page (namely Tiresias, from Oedipus Rex, I assume), it is not a far stretch, I think to believe that Charles, here, is referring to Wordsworth’s poem, The Daffodils. The “host of golden daffodils” are “jocund company” that bring solace and happiness to the lonely, wandering poet. And remembering them fills his heart “with pleasure”. Which daffodils “seem real”: the ones in the room, the ones that are being written about, the feelings evoked in the poem? The latter would lead us to believe that Bridehead Revisited is going to be one happy sensational memory. Instead, the “jocund company” the poet had found himself in turns out to be drunk and miserable. Upon departing on bad terms with Lady Marchmain, Charles initially thinks he is leaving behind an “illusion”, and entering “a world of three-dimension”, accessed by his “five senses”. (154) Now, at the time of writing, he has realized that there is “no such world” (154). What is the nature of this illusion? And how does a three-dimensional world perceived by the five senses not exist? And what does that tell us about sensations, reality, and the ultimate goal of revisiting Brideshead (which is in and of itself an inescapable representation?)? Tangentially, what are we to make of Charles’ unfinished paintings in the garden-room?
Moral of the story: you inspire me to keep time, write better, think more, and read manuals (kind of).
Les Vampires (1915)
First of all, F E E L B E T T E R ! ! ! I can empathize. It would be so much easier to attribute one’s “odd appearance” to having a train run over you, as Irma Vep does here. Tangentially, it’s nice that she gets paid… I like how at the end of her day, this vampire diva dives into the moshpit of her “Howling Cat” haunt…
See minute 5:39 for some vampire wild, black rimmed eyes and flared nostrils…
Anyway, thought progression behind all this = your Amy Winehouse description made me think of this French movie with Jean-Pierre Léaud (the very grown up kid from 400 Blows) that I had seen in a class on French Cinema: Irma Vep (1996). The whole movie is about a director filming a remake of Louis Feuillade’s original Les Vampires episodes, of which this is an extract.
Hopefully not a jejune attempt to comment your post (and use the word jejune in a sentence).
1. without interest or significance; dull; insipid: a jejune novel.
2. juvenile; immature; childish: jejune behavior.
3. lacking knowledge or experience; uninformed: jejune attempts to design a house.
4. deficient or lacking in nutritive value: a jejune diet.