‘Gangster Computer God worldwide SECRET CONTAINMENT POLICY, made possible SOLY by worldwide Computer God Frankenstein Controls, especially LIFELONG CONSTANT THRESHOLD BRAIN WASH RADIO ( quiet and motionless, I can slightly hear it; repeatedly this has saved my life on the streets ). FOUR BILLION worldwide population ALL living have a Computer God CONTAINMENT POLICY BRAIN BANK BRAIN, A REAL BRAIN, in the Brain Bank Cities on the far side of the Moon, we never see. Primarily, based on your lifelong Frankenstein radio controls, especially, your eyesight T.V. (sight, and sound) recorded by your brain. YOUR Moon BRAIN of the Computer God, activates your Frankenstein Threshold Brain Wash Radio LIFELONG, inculcating conformist propaganda, even frightening you and mixing you-up and the USUAL, "DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT." for your set backs, mistakes even when you receive deadly injuries. THIS IS THE WORLDWIDE COMPUTER GOD SECRET CONTAINMENT POLICY.’
Francis E. Dec
26 Aug 2010
Heroes for Hire
Word on the street (internet) is that Marvel are planning some kind of Iron Fist release:
Not sure at this point if the big man would be involved too - but either way - sweeeet:
Not sure at this point if the big man would be involved too - but either way - sweeeet:
25 Aug 2010
Best. Actress. Ever.
BBC4 is to broadcast an opera based on the turbulent life of the former Playboy model, Anna Nicole Smith. Anna Nicole – The Opera will dramatise the life of Smith, who married oil tycoon J Howard Marshall, more than 60 years her senior, in 1994 and then after his death the following year was drawn into a lengthy legal battle over the settlement of his estate. Smith died of a prescription drugs overdose in 2007, aged 39...
Ok – I mean how bad can it be when this is the source material:
Ok – I mean how bad can it be when this is the source material:
24 Aug 2010
re-welcome!
Looking over my old posts today, I thought I'd copy/paste up a reminder of what I'm trying to do here...
After all the Facebook / MySpace shenanigans over the past year, I thought - why not get back to the good old days of posting stuff on a blog that no one will ever see, unless I tell them about it over Facebook or MySpace.
I have used the name channelzero for over 8 years now, as an umbrella identity for numerous projects of mine including: photography, publishing of prose/poetry/short fiction and other things (forever) on the back burner.
I am trying to juggle lots of things at once to keep it all fresh and keep moving forward. Even if what comes out of it ends up being repetitive or rambling or a bit involved and introspective – I don’t care. There are too many 'art projects' that re-use old ideas and rely on trends, and by not having a real format I'm trying to avoid that at all costs.
This blog will run side by side with my MySpace page – which will include the longer pieces of my writing. So, I will pretty much post whatever pops in my head day to day onto here – kind of like free association - and this will hopefully give my other work more focus.
Longer bits of work - stories and articles for example, can be found here: http://www.myspace.com/channelzerose4
After all the Facebook / MySpace shenanigans over the past year, I thought - why not get back to the good old days of posting stuff on a blog that no one will ever see, unless I tell them about it over Facebook or MySpace.
I have used the name channelzero for over 8 years now, as an umbrella identity for numerous projects of mine including: photography, publishing of prose/poetry/short fiction and other things (forever) on the back burner.
I am trying to juggle lots of things at once to keep it all fresh and keep moving forward. Even if what comes out of it ends up being repetitive or rambling or a bit involved and introspective – I don’t care. There are too many 'art projects' that re-use old ideas and rely on trends, and by not having a real format I'm trying to avoid that at all costs.
This blog will run side by side with my MySpace page – which will include the longer pieces of my writing. So, I will pretty much post whatever pops in my head day to day onto here – kind of like free association - and this will hopefully give my other work more focus.
Longer bits of work - stories and articles for example, can be found here: http://www.myspace.com/channelzerose4
18 Aug 2010
1 piece written 3 ways.
So as an experiment, I took 1 subject and tried to write it in 3 forms: a series of 3 Kigo Haiku's, a kind of formatted poem and sort of free prose over a few paragraphs.
Kigo.
Summer’s last day
Exactly as summer’s first
A sinking feeling.
--
September’s shadow
A black cloud that follows me
The sun still hiding.
--
New love and new life
Create warmth within my chest
Breath becomes steady.
Bully.
It’s not as cut-and-dried as it sounds
You have a bad experience as a kid
And mental scars remain
That take a long time to heal and need help in
Doing so.
A common problem, I know
But it’s not as simple as ‘cause and effect’ or
You have a problem - you solve it
Our minds don’t work that way
You only have so much control over instinct.
The animal
The protector
The human in you
Can keep a strong hold on your gut
On your heart and lungs.
It can overpower whenever you need to retreat
Strike out or just close down
Those days or weeks when contact with others
Feels like a heart attack -
All of that can be the echo of one quiet wound.
And it took some time to realise that my own cycle
Was only beyond my control
Because I hadn’t sat down
Taken a breath
And tried to remember everything.
To take every single image
Every single Monday morning when I was
Sick to my stomach
And analyse it to death
To suck all the air out of those memories.
I finally got it down to the number 13
And the beginning of autumn.
My 13th year was pretty much a teenage nightmare from beginning
To end
And the lead-up to the start of a new school year, well.
It lasted almost 20 years
And that number alone would make most people think of it as
‘a serious problem’
But there are things now – things, people
That walk with me, all over that time of my life.
And now, brown leaves lay underfoot
The air becomes cool in your throat
People don scarves and hats
Cheeks red, cigarette smoke taken by the new season’s breeze
And I begin to feel my chest rise and fall again.
The adrenaline is less
Anger remains, but is mostly tempered now
I use it for better things
To create
To write.
Every mirror.
I’ve no idea why, but I can remember looking at my face in the bathroom mirror of every job I’ve worked at. Generally I can’t recall a single other moment of employment – good days, bad days, bosses names – nothing. But I have a back catalogue of faces staring back at me from over the sinks, fluro lights above and that swimming pool smell in your nostrils. Except the Government job, that was more often than not, your everyday ‘old man’s turd’ smell.
And each time I see that face, tired and bored and lazy and frustrated – I can see the history that lead me there. To have pissed in so many different bathrooms, working for people who forgot my name after I left, the same way I can’t remember theirs now. They were busy and focussed and couldn’t care less and nor could I. Even though most of the time - at interviews and first days, I really did want to care. But damn – there goes what little confidence I did have, out the window.
Those bosses, they liked being there. They loved their jobs and I never got that. I tried – I did. I even stopped lying to myself for a while and bought all their bullshit to see if I could reprogram my default setting. But nothing ever stuck.
I’d always look back after it was too late to do anything about it, and think; where did they get all this self-belief from? How do they maintain that without constantly questioning every move they make? I still do that I suppose, less so as I get older, but inside I’m still a little kid thinking he’s snuck himself into a position above his ability and is always on the verge of being found out.
So here I am again today; hands washed, dark circles contradicting the fact I had a full 9 hours last night, same lights above me. A different room and more pleasant smell but really – who gives a fuck. I still don’t know if I belong here – actually belong here. These places all remain the same, in that after all these years, and even considering how much more secure I feel, I still can’t run home fast enough at the end of the day.
Kigo.
Summer’s last day
Exactly as summer’s first
A sinking feeling.
--
September’s shadow
A black cloud that follows me
The sun still hiding.
--
New love and new life
Create warmth within my chest
Breath becomes steady.
Bully.
It’s not as cut-and-dried as it sounds
You have a bad experience as a kid
And mental scars remain
That take a long time to heal and need help in
Doing so.
A common problem, I know
But it’s not as simple as ‘cause and effect’ or
You have a problem - you solve it
Our minds don’t work that way
You only have so much control over instinct.
The animal
The protector
The human in you
Can keep a strong hold on your gut
On your heart and lungs.
It can overpower whenever you need to retreat
Strike out or just close down
Those days or weeks when contact with others
Feels like a heart attack -
All of that can be the echo of one quiet wound.
And it took some time to realise that my own cycle
Was only beyond my control
Because I hadn’t sat down
Taken a breath
And tried to remember everything.
To take every single image
Every single Monday morning when I was
Sick to my stomach
And analyse it to death
To suck all the air out of those memories.
I finally got it down to the number 13
And the beginning of autumn.
My 13th year was pretty much a teenage nightmare from beginning
To end
And the lead-up to the start of a new school year, well.
It lasted almost 20 years
And that number alone would make most people think of it as
‘a serious problem’
But there are things now – things, people
That walk with me, all over that time of my life.
And now, brown leaves lay underfoot
The air becomes cool in your throat
People don scarves and hats
Cheeks red, cigarette smoke taken by the new season’s breeze
And I begin to feel my chest rise and fall again.
The adrenaline is less
Anger remains, but is mostly tempered now
I use it for better things
To create
To write.
Every mirror.
I’ve no idea why, but I can remember looking at my face in the bathroom mirror of every job I’ve worked at. Generally I can’t recall a single other moment of employment – good days, bad days, bosses names – nothing. But I have a back catalogue of faces staring back at me from over the sinks, fluro lights above and that swimming pool smell in your nostrils. Except the Government job, that was more often than not, your everyday ‘old man’s turd’ smell.
And each time I see that face, tired and bored and lazy and frustrated – I can see the history that lead me there. To have pissed in so many different bathrooms, working for people who forgot my name after I left, the same way I can’t remember theirs now. They were busy and focussed and couldn’t care less and nor could I. Even though most of the time - at interviews and first days, I really did want to care. But damn – there goes what little confidence I did have, out the window.
Those bosses, they liked being there. They loved their jobs and I never got that. I tried – I did. I even stopped lying to myself for a while and bought all their bullshit to see if I could reprogram my default setting. But nothing ever stuck.
I’d always look back after it was too late to do anything about it, and think; where did they get all this self-belief from? How do they maintain that without constantly questioning every move they make? I still do that I suppose, less so as I get older, but inside I’m still a little kid thinking he’s snuck himself into a position above his ability and is always on the verge of being found out.
So here I am again today; hands washed, dark circles contradicting the fact I had a full 9 hours last night, same lights above me. A different room and more pleasant smell but really – who gives a fuck. I still don’t know if I belong here – actually belong here. These places all remain the same, in that after all these years, and even considering how much more secure I feel, I still can’t run home fast enough at the end of the day.
This is straight up poached from the Crossfire website, but is too good not to post. Kind of like a video version of the Chrome Ball Incident photo/mag articles – Skate Library is a great collection of skate videos from times past (and present).
Camu
To mark the release of his posthumous King of Hearts album, Def Jux are offering a free Camu Tao mixtape download over at the site.
17 Aug 2010
16 Aug 2010
Quote of the Day
'With women, I've got a long bamboo pole with a leather loop on the end. I slip the loop around their necks so they can't get away or come too close. Like catching snakes.'
Marlon Brando.
Marlon Brando.
13 Aug 2010
John Callahan
I’d never heard of John Callahan (Feb 1951 – Jul 2010) until today when I read THIS ARTICLE.
Some damn funny stuff.
12 Aug 2010
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