Saturday, September 27, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
WATERFALL
Emergency economic bailout
And German existential lit
Even in urgency and intensity
Pale in their pull on my own pious soul
While I look to a blazing, sun-drowned Iowa field
Golden folds of wheat waving me
Toward my pacific forest with its rushing river
Where paddling fish try not to drown.
Then I look to you and brown soft hair
Eyes green as leaves tinged only a little
With brushstroke darkness in dawning light,
Fired with youthful obstinate determination
For my bailing out of the deepest waters
Which are so shallow now in contrast
To your brave and loving rescue of my heart.
cjk 08
And German existential lit
Even in urgency and intensity
Pale in their pull on my own pious soul
While I look to a blazing, sun-drowned Iowa field
Golden folds of wheat waving me
Toward my pacific forest with its rushing river
Where paddling fish try not to drown.
Then I look to you and brown soft hair
Eyes green as leaves tinged only a little
With brushstroke darkness in dawning light,
Fired with youthful obstinate determination
For my bailing out of the deepest waters
Which are so shallow now in contrast
To your brave and loving rescue of my heart.
cjk 08
Adventure Story of a Young Man...
Outside there is a foreign southern city, basking in the evening warmth, its fountains plashing noisily. An then comes the sea.
He drops his arms; with his arms at his sides he looks slender, narrow and disciplined. That way he looks like a pious young soldier, whose face pales above the black of his jacket in this twilight- standing sentry duty for something holy, acting the sentinel in this foreign room, across this foreign sea, across this foreign world.
from The Pious Dance by Klaus Mann, 1925
other works include: Mephisto, Pathetic Symphony, The Turning Point & Andre Gide and the Crisis of Modern Thought
He drops his arms; with his arms at his sides he looks slender, narrow and disciplined. That way he looks like a pious young soldier, whose face pales above the black of his jacket in this twilight- standing sentry duty for something holy, acting the sentinel in this foreign room, across this foreign sea, across this foreign world.
from The Pious Dance by Klaus Mann, 1925
other works include: Mephisto, Pathetic Symphony, The Turning Point & Andre Gide and the Crisis of Modern Thought
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
JAMES
... so Matteo, a great friend of mine who I saw James with at the beloved and spooky St. Andrews Hall in Detroit over fifteen years ago, popped up through the Linked-In professional network and we're gonna reunite for James '08 at the Vic here in Chicago on Saturday September 27, 2008 for some Brit rock fun with my man Jon and luvcat Tara. Join us one and all complete with drinks at the infamous Berlin after. James is truly an extraordinary band and they have survived the test of time. Bald and Moby-like, Tim Booth's voice explodes out of his tiny frame in a mix of influences from the Manchester sound to Erasure to just good ole rock n roll in a way that is thoroughly unique and still alternative- an alternative to crap shit music that is- always offering up unrestrained passion and fun with enough thought to satisfy any brooders. For further delight, listen to the album that Angelo Badalamenti wrote music for. It is below. Angelo also helped to bring Marianne Faithfull out of heroin-crazed obscurity by writing the score underneath her lyrics on 1995's Secret Life- an album so luscious, deep and hypnotic you can wrap yourself in it like a warm blanket by a cool mountain stream and need no narcotic assistance whatsoever! And of course, Angelo completed the utter mysterious magic that is Twin Peaks by doing its music as well. Genious if you ask me. Listen up, and down...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crZxRIYchjQ&feature=related
"Only in my head you don't exist- who are you foolin', I don't need a shrink but and exorcist!"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crZxRIYchjQ&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSXb9D8Iqn0&feature=related
http://www.wearejames.com/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crZxRIYchjQ&feature=related
"Only in my head you don't exist- who are you foolin', I don't need a shrink but and exorcist!"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crZxRIYchjQ&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSXb9D8Iqn0&feature=related
http://www.wearejames.com/
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
from G-
Once a day, I have to visit these websites; they keep me balanced and stimulated and delightfully off-kilter:
The Flora Post-
For the sake of:
"The Higher Common Sense"-
http://noolmusic.com/movies_trailers/cold_comfort_farm_-_comedy_movie.php
"The Higher Common Sense"-
http://noolmusic.com/movies_trailers/cold_comfort_farm_-_comedy_movie.php
Monday, September 15, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Shooting At Moose From The Air
... okay, Bill Maher is almost always good, but when accessorized by the likes of Salman Rushdie, Janeane Garafalo and Roseanne, it's simply a no-lose situation- especially when he brings on those who are even less afraid than he is to speak the politically incorrect truth to the vulgarities of power. Please download the Friday, September 12, 2008 episode from HBO online or catch a cable repeat. Below is a slice as the group tag-teams conservative Wallstreet Journal columnist John Fund (who one tried ta put the moves on me while he guested at a conservative lecture series at my alma mater Hillsdale College). I'm sure Bill had more fun with those edgy liberals at Cornell, but I got a chance to see the other side up close and, er, personal. Please keep in mind this is the college where the President carried on an affair with his daughter-in-law for fifteen years- who eventually blew her brains out in the Lovers Gazebo with a 45 calibre pistol- while noshing with Ronald Reagan, William F. Buckley and carrying on the culture war from the Michigan boondocks. Three cheers for family values! You can google that sad and scandalous tale and look for the Vanity Fair article in particular!
Tasty slice: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOXrj4-bgSI&feature=related
Janeane: http://members.tripod.com/janeane_garofalo/
Roseanne: http://www.roseanneworld.com/home/
Salman: http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/r/salman-rushdie/enchantress-of-florence.htm
Quote of the show:
"The Republican Party is the Unrestrained Id of American Politics!"
"The Republican Party is the Unrestrained Id of American Politics!"
Tasty slice: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOXrj4-bgSI&feature=related
Janeane: http://members.tripod.com/janeane_garofalo/
Roseanne: http://www.roseanneworld.com/home/
Salman: http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/r/salman-rushdie/enchantress-of-florence.htm
more words from Graeme-
Everyone’s compass blood misses the sea.
Wavering, needle-sharp yearning for the salt in the air like the salt in sweat.
The blue distance that pulls the eyes to the horizon.
Everyone has a sea that the flesh wordlessly remembers, an ocean that lives on only in our cells. Water that's warm and taut, the skin of the drum I stretch across the world;
Water that holds me up when I walk across it.
I delete his digits from my cellphone, cut his name from my email with swift clicks,sever the dedicated connection of his trojantrust, remove the flickring pics of his face, his smile, his eyes, his laugh, his fingers,the feel of his skin to the recycle bin, wipe his memory from my harddrive and punch him in the software, block his handles and avatars, his podcasts and profiles, his webbed words and IMs, his voicemails and texts, all the digital roads that led to my analog heart.
Wavering, needle-sharp yearning for the salt in the air like the salt in sweat.
The blue distance that pulls the eyes to the horizon.
Everyone has a sea that the flesh wordlessly remembers, an ocean that lives on only in our cells. Water that's warm and taut, the skin of the drum I stretch across the world;
Water that holds me up when I walk across it.
I delete his digits from my cellphone, cut his name from my email with swift clicks,sever the dedicated connection of his trojantrust, remove the flickring pics of his face, his smile, his eyes, his laugh, his fingers,the feel of his skin to the recycle bin, wipe his memory from my harddrive and punch him in the software, block his handles and avatars, his podcasts and profiles, his webbed words and IMs, his voicemails and texts, all the digital roads that led to my analog heart.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Bataille on Nietzche
In the image of the one he wanted to be to the point of madness, Nietzsche is born of the Earth torn open by the fire of the Heavens, he is born blasted by lightning and in that way he is imbued with this fire of domination that becomes the FIRE OF THE EARTH.
WHEN THE SACRED--NIETZSCHEAN--FIGURE OF TRAGIC DIONYSOS RELEASES LIFE FROM SERVITUDE, IN OTHER WORDS, FROM THE PUNISHMENT OF THE PAST, HE RELEASES IT AS WELL FROM RELIGIOUS HUMILITY, FROM THE CONFUSIONS AND TORPOR OF ROMANTICISM. HE DEMANDS THAT A BRILLIANT WILL RETURN THE EARTH TO THE DIVINE ACCURACY OF THE DREAM.
Courtesy of Disquiet; from "Nietzschean Chronicle"
TWIN PEAKS
"This has to be the place where all pies go when they die..."
Just watch them all- again!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2lkvrMa27c
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gMXjjHFz__A
Just watch them all- again!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2lkvrMa27c
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gMXjjHFz__A
DANNY-
Lose the owl, and ride the pony!
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/14/theater/14lyal.html?_r=1&ref=arts&oref=slogin
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/14/theater/14lyal.html?_r=1&ref=arts&oref=slogin
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Saturday, September 6, 2008
The Great Awakening
'Set in the oppressive environment of Puritan New England ca. 1740 and drawing inspiration from the ecclesiastical texts of Jonathan Edwards, the novels of Nathaniel Hawthorne, and the Decadent writings of Joris-Karl Huysmans, de Beer has created a period film filtered through the gaze of a psychedelic lens. The video is projected in the main gallery space, amongst a dropped ceiling, lush lighting and red carpeting. Typical of de Beer’s video practice, the artist replicates portions of the sets in The Quickening to accompany the screening. Before entering the projection room, the viewer must first pass through a ring of trees over 13 feet in diameter. Integral to the film itself, the colored light filtering through the trees prepares the viewer to be transported and delivers him ready to engage with the film. With The Quickening, Sue de Beer distances herself from her past fascination with the world of today’s youth, so characteristic of her previous videos. Instead, 18th century Puritan America becomes de Beer’s physical stage and inspires a wholly different culture to be mined.' -- Marianne Boesky Gallery
Sue de Beer Website
Sue de Beer @ Marianne Boesky Gallery
Sue de Beer Website
Sue de Beer @ Marianne Boesky Gallery
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Words From Graeme
John McCain looks like a shiny, albino turtle who's just eaten a botox salad.
Summer by Graeme
Across the parking lot there's an overgrown field, a vacant lot;
but it is anything but empty. Each morning as I get out of my car,
I can hear the insects whirring and clicking, the rustle of leaves
and thrum of woody limbs vibrating in the wind.
Each evening as dusk comes,
birds call to each other and busy themselves before dark;
the field purrs and stretches before sleep.
I'm wearing my work clothes: button-down shirt and silk tie, dress
shoes, pressed khaki pants. Dry-cleaning is expensive, and grass
stains? I can see the look of suspicion on the elderly lady's face as
I drop off my clothes, burrs and dirt and green tendrils everywhere.
"What have you been doing?" her look says, speaking volumes about
what is acceptable, appropriate, proper. And my co-workers think
I have gone mad. Tittering behind their gray cubicle walls, they
exchange glances as I walk by, eyeing an errant leaf stuck to
my sleeve, a feather in my hair…
They don't suspect that
I have become a Creature of the Field.
I grip the thick muscle of Summer
as it heaves and wakes from slumber.
I hear the streets crackle
with vines of green fire as Nature feasts
blossoms boom like cannons
milkweed pods burst seams
mercenary oak roots march
I am watered and alive again
satiated
full of sap and light.
-more from Wickerkid at: http://www.angelfire.com/blog/wicker_chronicles/esoterica/
Summer by Graeme
Across the parking lot there's an overgrown field, a vacant lot;
but it is anything but empty. Each morning as I get out of my car,
I can hear the insects whirring and clicking, the rustle of leaves
and thrum of woody limbs vibrating in the wind.
Each evening as dusk comes,
birds call to each other and busy themselves before dark;
the field purrs and stretches before sleep.
I'm wearing my work clothes: button-down shirt and silk tie, dress
shoes, pressed khaki pants. Dry-cleaning is expensive, and grass
stains? I can see the look of suspicion on the elderly lady's face as
I drop off my clothes, burrs and dirt and green tendrils everywhere.
"What have you been doing?" her look says, speaking volumes about
what is acceptable, appropriate, proper. And my co-workers think
I have gone mad. Tittering behind their gray cubicle walls, they
exchange glances as I walk by, eyeing an errant leaf stuck to
my sleeve, a feather in my hair…
They don't suspect that
I have become a Creature of the Field.
I grip the thick muscle of Summer
as it heaves and wakes from slumber.
I hear the streets crackle
with vines of green fire as Nature feasts
blossoms boom like cannons
milkweed pods burst seams
mercenary oak roots march
I am watered and alive again
satiated
full of sap and light.
-more from Wickerkid at: http://www.angelfire.com/blog/wicker_chronicles/esoterica/
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