June 30, 2003

She Sits At The Back.

And draws pictures of graphic myth.

Her pen says beclomethasone dipropionate 42 mcg inhalation aerosol.

Posted by dean at 11:55 PM

Dead Like Me.

Posted by dean at 01:31 PM

Anarchist's Wedding Guide.

The wedding party, the ring, little things like the placement of large numbers of ceremonial people around the altar where the joinery is executed -- all symbols: remnants of forgotten cultural baggage -- much of it quite unpleasant. The ring -- wasn't it originally on the bride's ankle? All those people -- weren't they really guards?? Marriage by capture, marriage by treaty, marriage by arrangement, marriage by purchase: it's all there, silent, deadly, in the modern wedding.

This may be just another bureaucratic ruse for getting a $4 dollar fee out of us, but I see no reason to grant the State the privilege of permission in this matter. After all, if I allow them the right to say "yes" to my choice of partners, am I not also granting them the power (at least theoretically) to say "no?"

I don't remember when I agreed to changing my name on marriage. I wasn't asked. I signed nothing to that effect, I'm sure of it. It wasn't in the ceremony. But it happened anyway. And the horrible part is I liked my "maiden" name. It was a nice name, I liked the sound of it and it connected me to a large group of people much friendlier to me than my in-laws.

Posted by dean at 03:18 AM

A2, Page 145.

Both of us wrote poetry. I enjoyed strangling the words and trying to get them on paper still living but when I failed to finish what I had planned to do, or even to begin it, I was less than seriously troubled.

Posted by dean at 12:47 AM

June 29, 2003

Start Of The Summer.

Posted by dean at 01:33 PM

June 28, 2003

A2, Page 135.

"How could anybody die of amnesia?" he said.

Posted by dean at 04:58 PM

June 26, 2003

Naughty By Nature : "Mourn You Til I Join You".

It's gonna be alright you gotta believe dat

Dear god, times are changing and the weather got hot
Over the past year a lot of niggas went pop drop
So I thank you for my life and all that I got
I wanna praise you and drop off a message to Pac
I was sitten here lookin at your picture my nigga
Puttin hash with the weed wit a mixture of liqour
We can't kick it you ain't wit us is the shit I can't figure
Nigga I miss ya this thug gonna miss ya til i'm wit cha'
It was 90 on the P.E. tour when we mashed down
Doesn't even seem like 7 years passed
Both rodies now homies out the hood on the scene
You did the humpty with the u I did the walk wit the queen
Was a dream smokin and drinkin?
Stealin' backstage passes to hit ho's and coleseums
The flip up make them lift they shit up
Get it the get up lift the trix up and switch up
Think of all the times that i rolled wit mine
Male groupies got dissed and got the hell out of dodge
They was grindin with the good shine through they were on you
Just know I'm gonna mourn you til I join you

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
I hope you hear me now in god we trust
Even all the prayers can't bring you back to us
I'll mourn you til I join you cause I'll keep in touch

We was two lil niggas both skinny and broke
Happy if we scrap pennies for smokes
Tours over we were out yeah and you called with the news
You was over in new york to film this movie called juice
Called you back you told me back up me and you
And stretch could shack up
The thug luv back up the act up
Callen for us cause they know we all kicked up dust
You remember when the cabby said daddy wouldn't pick up our rings
You beat his ass then you spit in his face
I remember on the set from the trailer feens stole your jewels
And big stretch punched him out his shoes
Back then I was taken stashes quick who holdin
That's when every piece of bud I was rolen was stolen
We would laugh at the jacks over six packs and yacks
Spit the emos over demos thinken ladies and lemos
You was a wild motha fucka who could never sit still
Said you wouldn't rest untill you saw a mill
Nigga I felt you
We was back an forth burough to projects for forts
Damn I wish they knew how much you loved new york
Shit and can't nobody dis my nigga
Motha fuck that I miss my nigga
I'm a mourn you til I join you

You ain't got to worry about how long I'm gonna morn ya,
I'm gonna keep your name on tha streets

I'm ya true mutherfucka thug nation alert
Keep his name on the street til ya lay in the dirt
This shit hurts cause we went from poor to rich
You're supposed to see alot more than this
They brought you up locked you up when you did above the rim
They let you out you called us up we came as thugs again
We were here ah-ha rapist they shout
Ya'll was talkin shit that ya'll didn't know a damn thang bout
You was going through your stress while your enemies laughed
Ain't never take no shit and Tupac never took no ass
Fuck the press fuck the world life goes on when you die
Fuck the judge fuck the court and every bitch that lied
A little time ticked by, my ho and I got rocked
My lady waking me up yelling Treach, Pac got shot
Soon as I get there I find Afeni urgin' me
Think I missed my baby, don't leave after surgery
So I'm lookin in her eyes while they walkin me through
Thinkin Pac hard head what the hell I'm a do
So we kicked it as they stayed and I asked what you need
You say a pound for comin nigga and a hit of some weed
So I asked you not to go over and over god knows
You done smiled and said nigga help me get on my clothes
So we got over that, you held up got locked
They had you caged when I stopped
Yeah the chain remains plus you a part of my link
They fucked up by givin you too much time to think
I remember your release and we met up in l.a.
Gettin blazed hand me down with the hay
After that you blew up a made nigga platinum plus
Addicted to drama a soldier with a nation of thugs
Now we in these savage ages
Even yourself predicted that last night in vegas
I heard gatz
My nigga once again damaged
And a part of his heart right here in venice
At the same time you was both loved and feared
M.O.B. and fuckin thug of the year
I'm a mourn you til I join you.

Posted by dean at 02:14 PM

June 25, 2003

KM : AIA, Page 162.

The thing is, if you're a kid and you have a crush on a girl and you never do anything about it, I think you ultimately enjoy it more. You can enjoy the thoughts of what have happened with her and what you would have done with her and how cool you would have been with her, when in reality, you know you never would have done any of the things you thought about.

Posted by dean at 04:03 AM

June 20, 2003

I Believe.

Posted by dean at 08:08 AM

June 19, 2003

Jennie Meyerson.

You c'mon out -- here. I'm Amelia Earhart.

Patrolman Polansky pointed to her hand. The webbed space between her thumb and finger was bleeding. You've cut yourself.

Jennie said must have done it on the jagged window cornice as she was climbing out. Perhaps it was a message from God. That must be it, she said, because she hadn't felt it at all. It was like God's wounds. Instead, she felt happy, strong, and light.

She felt like practicing for the Labor Day air show on Monday.

Posted by dean at 10:17 PM

Investigate The Crash Of TWA Flight 800 As A Producer For CBS News.

Borjesson describes the buzzsaw as "what can rip through you when you try to investigate or expose anything this country's large institutions -- be they corporate or government -- want to keep under wraps. The system fights back with official lies, disinformation, and stonewalling. Your phone starts acting funny. Strange people call you at strange hours to give you strange information. The FBI calls you. Your car is broken into and the thief takes your computer and your reporter's notebook and leaves everything else behind. The sense of fear and paranoia is, at times, overwhelming."
The Truth Seeker

Posted by dean at 03:53 PM

KM : AIA, Page 147.

Mr. Wendell snapped me back to the real world, and all my musings about naked classmates and their genitals weren't going to save me from the fact that there was a shower nozzle out there that had my name on it.

Posted by dean at 12:32 AM

June 17, 2003

We Walked Down The Path.

With walkmans of pornography.

Posted by dean at 11:30 PM

June 15, 2003

Past, Present And, No Doubt, Future, Too.

Posted by dean at 10:22 PM

June 14, 2003

Carmen Coates.

At nine, she bit her lip until it bled. The following year, she gradually fell into the habit of repeatedly banging her forearms on the edge of a table; this produced chronic swelling and bruising, and eventually a constantly running sore. When she was 13, she cut long troughs in her face with a razor and then rubbed dirt into the wounds, producing a permanent, hypertrophic scar.

Posted by dean at 04:21 PM

June 13, 2003

KM : AIA, Page 59.

My mind fixated on the idea that if I could somehow figure out how to replicate the circumstances under which "the rope feeling" occurred that didn't involve sliding a twenty-five-foot-long piece of braided cotton between my legs, then I would discover the key to overwhelming joy.

Posted by dean at 06:09 PM

Anal Box.

Posted by dean at 03:11 AM

June 12, 2003

Drunk Gay Venezuelan.

It's pretty funny.

I know.

They squeak.

Posted by dean at 12:29 AM

June 10, 2003

FF, Page 343.

In our short journey through pop, that moment of disillusionment was maybe our greatest creation. Without that final state of disillusion, the power and glory of pop is nothing. And when it happens (and if it has not already happened to you, it surely will), savour it, because it very quickly slithers into disinterest and gets forgotten as life marches on.

Posted by dean at 05:04 PM

June 09, 2003

Sonic Arms Smugglers.

Since the first raves were held in Beijing in 1995, a sizable electronic dance music scene has grown up in the People's Republic of China. Going clubbing has become a popular activity among a significant segment of the country's growing urban middle class, and an indigenous ecology of Chinese DJs, MCs, producers and promoters has emerged. This is a phenomenon limited not only to the country's largest cities; dance clubs playing various techno-derived musics can be found in many smaller cities as well, at least in China's wealthier regions. I relocated to Hong Kong in 1995 to work in the city's popular music industry and I have witnessed the rapid growth of this new Chinese club culture firsthand on my frequent trips into mainland China. I first became interested in dance music culture in 1997 as I became aware of the rapidly growing club scene in Hong Kong at that time, and events on the other side of the Chinese border seemed to be following a similar course. Large modern clubs attracting hundreds or even thousands of clubbers every weekend appeared to be springing up everywhere I went in China, perhaps filling a void for a growing middle class with increasing amounts of disposable income but relatively few entertainment options to spend it on.

In addition to bringing new tools for producing music to electronic musicians in China and tremendously facilitating the circulation of information within their scene, the Internet is also having a massive impact in terms of the vastly increased access to music from outside China which it has brought to its users. The Chinese government strictly controls all cultural imports, including music, and most imported dance music recordings are completely unavailable through legal channels. As Internet usage has increased in China over the past few years, the Net has started to become the main source of information about music for more and more young urban Chinese. DJs and producers, many of whom have their own computers with Net access, rely increasingly on the Web to learn about the latest trends in dance music styles around the globe. Virtually all of the major DJs in Beijing, for example, use the Internet extensively to keep up with international music trends, learning about new styles at the same time as their counterparts in other countries.

Although the dance scene is not overtly political for the most part, it should be noted here that there are already signs of a developing "ideational pluralism" among its participants which may have significant political overtones. An article in Asiaweek magazine in May 2001 noted early signs of politicization within the Chinese dance scene, such as the popularity of a locally-produced dance track called "No Communist Party." Taking its melody from a song associated with the Cultural Revolution, the lyrics ridicule Communist Party icon Lei Feng, the selfless PLA soldier who has been held up as a model of good character to generations of Chinese students.
Digital Cutup Lounge

Posted by dean at 09:26 PM

June 08, 2003

We Are Busy People.

Posted by dean at 12:17 AM

June 07, 2003

A2, Page 119 + 120.

He said that all new universities would consist of only one small room. It would work this way. At the beginning of each semester the entire student body -- which would have to number at least five hundred thousand in order to give the computers enough to do -- would assemble in a large open space in front of a TV camera. They would be televised and put on videotape. In a separate operation the instructors would also be videotaped, individually. Then two TV sets would be placed in the single room which represented the university. The room would be in a small blockhouse at the edge of a thirty-six-lane freeway; this proximity would help facilitate transmission of electronic equipment. Oh, there might be some banners on the wall and maybe a plaque or two, but aside from these the only things in the room would be the TV sets. At nine o'clock in the morning on the first day of classes, a computer would turn on the two television sets, which would be facing each other. The videotape of the students would then watch the videotape of the instructors. Eventually the system could be refined so that there would be only one university in the whole country.

Posted by dean at 07:43 PM

A2, Page 116.

All children, I thought, should be permitted to sleep in such a room; the child loves nooks and odd angles and is frightened into nightmare by equidistance, by parallel planes which conceal nothing.

Posted by dean at 12:56 PM

June 05, 2003


Posted by dean at 02:02 AM

June 04, 2003

KM : AIA, Page 35.

There I was with a pretty girl I really liked who was desperately trying to kiss me and devoting every ounce of her energy and attention to accomplishing her task. Life didn't get better than this. I had suddenly found myself cast in the role of a miniature Hugh Hefner and was now certain that life would no longer the same for me. And the one thing I knew for sure was that she could never possibly get tired of this. Ever.

Posted by dean at 09:23 PM

Sometimes I Do.

Posted by dean at 02:23 PM

It Actually Sounds Like A Polite Version Of A Can Song.

To which I'd answer, there are dozens of songs on the radio every year that are sensational, that surprise me, and most of them make Radiohead sound like the conservatives they ultimately are. A song on English radio right now springs to mind: Dizzee Rascal's "I Luv U." It's a rapid distillation of teen sex politics over what sounds like an amplified handball game. Every time I hear it, I am delighted that somebody thought it up. The sheer sound of it makes the little electronic squiggles and boinks on Hail to the Thief sound as quaint as they are.

Posted by dean at 01:34 AM

June 03, 2003

Laura Freitas.

She was quite agitated, jumping out of her chair every few moments to pace back and forth to the door. She was given her breakfast during a part of this interview; she intentionally smeared grape jelly onto the trousers of a passing nurse. Subsequently, she lay down on the floor and kicked her legs in the air, apparently in ecstasy.

Posted by dean at 03:09 PM

A2, Page 106.

Several people had told her they were afraid to touch her pieces of wood and this pleased her but only to a point; she said her highest ambition was to give people the feeling that they were eating small live wet amphibians.

Posted by dean at 01:45 AM

June 02, 2003

Vacation For Brainbuds.

Posted by dean at 05:00 PM

FF, Page 328.

The word rave is at that stage where it's no longer used as something to be aligned with, but has yet officially to be deemed naff. Often that's when words are at their most potent.

Posted by dean at 04:12 PM

June 01, 2003

FF, Page 247.

In Liverpool in the late '70s, there was a nucleus of about twenty-three individuals who were each fired by a dream of creating the ultimate mythical band. This dream had been inspired by a number of other bands from distant lands and other times. The list of bands may have included at various times Pere Ubu, Love, The Residents, The Velvet Underground, Kraftwerk, The Monkees, Can, Television and The 13th Floor Elevators. The greatness of these bands was obviously not measured by their commercial success, or even the guaranteed quality of their creative output, but by an aura that emanated from the mere possibility of their existence.

Posted by dean at 09:46 PM

FF, Page 190.

Like all pop genius, by its very definition it never stays faithful to one individual for longer than Warhol's fifteen minutes. Then it finds another host brain to reward and torment, like a flea gaily hopping its way from head to head.

Posted by dean at 06:29 PM

A2, Page 85.

And now, as the waiter put our plates before us, I thought of him standing by the projector as the first new reel of the evening thrust its image through the dust-drizzling church-light toward the screen, an alphabet boy eating freckled soup perhaps, a man carving his Thanksgiving teeth, the tongues of seven naked housewives lapping at a bowl of dog food. I wished he were dead.

Posted by dean at 03:59 PM