channelzero prose

2012-02-07T15:09:00.002Z

Finitempathy.

It is just that much easier
To not read the paper
Watch the TV news
To turn the page and channel and
Other cheek

It is just that much easier to say no
Than it is to nod politely like a goddamn priest
Every minute of the day
Better to accommodate only a fraction of requests
And plead the fifth for the
Rest

And your pretence will
Not
Go unrewarded
Your empty heart will thank you
For these actions
And you will feel free
And you will be free

It is correct that no man
Is an island
We are in actuality vast continents
Countries to be won over by years of war
If we were to allow it

We are full of love and understanding
Too much
Too soon
Too far
Too quick to help
And then to regret the
Same

It is just that much easier to say no
Than it is to nod politely
Subordinately
Year in and out to the edge
Better to accommodate only a fraction of requests
And plead the fifth for the
Rest.

2012-02-03T11:54:00.000Z

Not For You. [Dir. Cameron Crowe]

2012-02-02T15:52:00.002Z

Angelo Dundee, 1921-2012

2012-02-02T09:46:00.003Z

Real

2012-02-02T09:05:00.001Z

Loving this guy at the moment.

Bones

2012-01-31T11:33:00.002Z

2012-01-30T15:14:00.001Z

Zero point fluctuation.

Indecision hangs all around

A rolling fog

As regular as the twelve bar blues

A metronomic impact fractures bones like plaster

The surface cracks in tiny increments

The degraded facade

And the ice comes

Low pressure

From overseas to underfoot

Under radar

The animal senses on override

They all begin to flee

Curtains get drawn

Windows boarded up

Layers of clothes added to layers of clothes

Fires stoked and candles lit

A stockpiling of all things that

Will burn

And the ice comes

Approaching like a childhood memory

An unconscious event best forgotten

It rises back up through cracks in the floorboards

And the men sense nothing

While the ubermensch knows all

And prepares

Regresses his mood

Retreats into himself

All negative energy and positive reality

Becomes null within the void

Synapse activity lessens as

The best of us become still

And wait for this season

To pass overhead

Knowing that the centre star

Will absolve us of

All this agony.

the chz

2012-01-26T16:05:00.000Z

Some randoms added to the chz images blog.

My other blog that continues to lack both rhyme and reason.

Gig

2012-01-25T14:36:00.000Z

Find yourself 8 quid and get down to this in February:

2012-01-19T10:17:00.005Z

Several eyes smiling into the golden door of heaven.

I am in retrograde orbit

As parchment disintegrates in the rain

Drops

I am bruised fruit

And sweet and soft and living underneath

Shiny

Green apples

I am the furthest place from home

The space between as the

Space between proton and

Electron

I am the fallen mountain

The smoking volcano

I am the hours it takes to breathe in

And out again 100 times.

Skelethon

2012-01-18T14:57:00.003Z

coming soon.

2012-01-17T09:15:00.001Z

Have you seen them?

2012-01-13T09:31:00.001Z

This'll be a good view for us old timers...

The Bones Brigade: An Autobiography

Premieres at the Sundance Festival on the 21st January

2012-01-12T10:52:00.001Z

Opening today at all 11 Gagosian galleries around the world,

including two in London, Hirst's spot paintings are taking over

the planet. Hirst has produced almost 1,500, and currently has

a team of assistants working on one with a million spots that

will take over nine years to complete.

Crimble tunes

2012-01-12T10:24:00.001Z

Yes it's January... I'm on the ball as ever, here are the current tunes accompanying my daily post-Xmas commute:

Good News

2012-01-10T10:32:00.002Z

that's what the fuck I'm talkin' about.

GT

2012-01-06T14:26:00.002Z

Poached from SkateDaily

"Next, on Exploitation Theatre...Blacula, followed by Blackenstein, and The Blunchblack of Blotre Blame!"

2012-01-06T12:11:00.001Z

Just added this to the Lovefilm list...

Eve Arnold, 1912-2012

2012-01-06T11:30:00.001Z

Coming up though college studying graphic design, an interest photography came later on and most of that was of a very particular style – Albert Watson and those guys that used hard lighting and a style that looked in itself quite design-based. Eve Arnold was the first photographer I discovered of a more 'traditional' output. The picture that did it for me initially was a backstage shot of Charlotte Stribling, which what was once my favourite photograph of all time. Even without the Marilyn Monroe photos, which are in my opinion the best images ever shot of her, Eve Arnold’s pictures were just something that connected with me for no apparent reason. More here

2012-01-05T10:36:00.002Z

Dark sheets of pain.

It was a joke
Intended to be funny to me
But often the water can flow in reverse
The words deciding to walk on their own
And all you can do is follow...

I walk under this sheet under cloud
Under a predictive galaxy
Full of mistakes
Arms full of silver
Slivers of acute pain
Inaction the order of the day
Through and across rain soaked cobbled streets
Twisting ankles
Slipping souls

Daylight memories vaporise like
Fog
Replaced in the ether by strangled voices
Happy words floating on ice cream sundaes
Nothing is real now
Voiceboxes causing rifts in the system
Cracks in the pavement to swallow me
Up

Names drop
Faces fall
Grins stretch across the quiet horizon
The start of this morning resonates
And reflects the beginning of this year
The end of the last life
Full of mistakes
Arms full of silver
Slivers of acute pain
Inaction the order of the day

We remain happy in our solitude
Energised by our lack of solace.

Shrigley

2012-01-04T10:16:00.001Z

Seeing as I missed the Pipilotti Rist show, I'm going to make sure I get to the Hayward to see this when it opens in February. David Shrigley is hilarious, I highly recommend a visit.

Futile Devices

2012-01-03T10:16:00.001Z

Nothing to report this early in the day/week/year. So this will more than suffice for now:

Happy January.

2011-12-21T09:54:00.005Z

Précis

How do you summarise 12 months where not much happened? For me at least, it was pretty much by the book. Painting by numbers without straying outside the lines. I have no idea about anything at the moment... though I can say with some certainty that the world probably won’t end next year (funny how all those who unquestioningly follow Pope Gregory every day of their lives suddenly ‘believe’ in the prophetic Mayan calendar isn’t it).

That aside, there are no statements to make. No finalities or punchlines, no gong to signal time’s up. I just want to be home. Locked doors, Xmas TV, fancy booze and family. Seriously – that’s all I need.

And some mini sausages wrapped in bacon.

Merry Xmas.

Just. A. Ride.

2011-12-16T17:28:00.002Z

Happy Birthday Bill.

2011-12-15T15:18:00.004Z

Mass wasting.

The tumult began in such a

Far

Distant

Past

We could not begin to fathom the genesis of the fall

But at least we could recognise

The fall

At the very least

The gross thundering awoke our ears

To the day’s real light

To the day’s white bleach

A bird-scaring shriek of white

A high pitched velocity of this thing

Intangibility become destructive force

Laughing

All

The

Way.

Automatic Writing

2011-12-12T15:23:00.004Z

New.

We lay under a hall of mirrors.

A hundred walls across us,

For hours, days, weeks

We lay there

Conscious,

Sane,

Yet unwilling to rise.

The weight of crashing sounds inside

Us -

Gravity playing no part

Other than a muted distraction,

A throat tickle.

Sickening guitars strum while

Our hearts - stone become iron

Feel nothing of it.

Steel,

Concrete,

Stone, pebbles and black tar slabs

Crush down at a glacial pace.

And each word,

Every black letter, one after the next,

Add to the ending...

Unhelpful and laughing and deceitful and,

We lay under there

A hundred years across us.

We lay there

Conscious,

Barely relevant,

Unwilling to rise.

Slow voices turn stomachs while

Our hearts – iron become ore

Feel nothing of it.

Hate,

Love, rain, snow and ash

All drifting down, as a swan feather in the

Summer breeze.

And each line,

Sentence and crying shame of the ink

Splattered page,

Grasps at throats

Claws at skin, and still

Fails to hold

On.

Prickle-Prickle, The Aftermath 67, Year of Our Lady of Discord 3177

2011-12-12T12:10:00.001Z

from Atheism.com:

Much of what people associate with Christmas pre-dates Christianity. Traditional Christianity celebrates the death of holy people, not their birth. In 274 CE, pagan emperor Aurelian proclaimed December 25th ‘Natalis Solis Invicti’ the festival of the birth of the invincible sun. Saturnalia already occurred around this time along with many other celebrations. Christians took over this and other Roman festivals.

Evergreen trees and holly were important because they held their green colors despite the harshest winters. The Santa Claus character is usually traced to Saint Nicholas, a patron saint of children on whose day - December 6^th - gifts were given to kids. Beyond the idea that that people are supposed celebrate the birth of Jesus on this day, this is all that Christianity has directly contributed.

modern notions of Santa Claus can also be traced to the writings of Washington Irving — writings often meant as satire, yet which also often ended up being read as factual. His stories about New Amsterdam being dominated by a cult which celebrated the figure of Saint Nick were popular and he often returned to the figure of Saint Nicholas, even writing about “old fashioned” Christmas celebrations which he simply made up.

Dickens’ A Christmas Carol has not been his only influence. He seemed obsessive about the holiday, and more than once he depicted lavish Christmas feasts rife with “old fashioned” traditions which were little more than literary creations. Nevertheless, people followed right along, enchanted with the atmosphere he created and wishing to capture it for themselves.

Clement Moore is credited with writing the poem A Visit From St. Nicholas which almost singlehandedly created the modern American conception of Santa Claus, what he looks like, and what he does (without ever using the name Santa Claus). At this point Santa Claus is fully secularized. There is no reference to sainthood, Christianity, or Jesus. Instead, Santa has a pagan image — he is, after all, described as an elf. Nast also establishes Christmas ideas like hanging stockings by the fireplace.

Illustrator Thomas Nast is the one who gave America the physical pictures of Santa Claus, thus providing a common, shared vision of the primary symbol of an increasingly secular holiday. Nast also added numerous key details about his life which hadn’t been used by others before: Nast’s pictures showed Santa reading children’s letters, watching their behavior, writing the naughty and nice lists, and living at the North Pole.

It was just after World War II that people complained about over-commercialization of Christmas and started to try to “put Christ back into Christmas.” But why at this point in history? Blame it on the war: during the conflict, people had to shop early in order to get Christmas gifts to the troops overseas in time. Merchants, of course, benefited from the early shopping and made a point of reminding people to shop early — even after the war ended.

Thus the lengthy holiday shopping season was born and it’s been getting longer ever since. Over time people have learned to try to shop even earlier in order to beat the maddening holiday rush — and retailers, being the good public servants that they are, have sought to accommodate them with earlier and earlier holiday sales. By and large, the spirit of giving has become predicated upon a spirit of buying.

Such is our modern Christmas: a large number of ancient pagan practices, a few pieces of Christian traditions, and a large number of modern creations which are almost entirely secular in nature, no matter where they got their inspiration from. I see little room and little need for any “Christ” in all of this - but more importantly, I see little place where a “Christ” could be put back into the mix.

So when you find someone talking about putting Christ back into Christmas, you can ask them what part Christ really played in Christmas to begin with. Although you may not be interested in celebrating holidays with any religious trappings whatsoever, Christianity’s hold on Christmas, from a religious perspective, is rather tenuous. If you’re an atheist who would like to enjoy the holiday, you should be able to do so without giving Christianity a second thought.

n.b: (The post title is the Discordian/Erisian date of Xmas 2011)

And while we’re on ‘traditions’...

Brave

2011-11-17T09:15:00.003Z

yay!

2011-11-16T11:52:00.004Z

COMING SOON

Viewage

2011-11-09T09:44:00.000Z

Watched this last night.

Any film that contains the line 'I'm bi-furious' wins. It's that simple.

Jo Frazier 1944 – 2011

2011-11-08T09:33:00.001Z

Not much to say except watch the documentary above if you can. RIP.
Articles HERE and HERE.

as EL-P might say - Pure BK.

2011-11-07T11:31:00.001Z

Her in

2011-11-04T10:15:00.001Z

Life in a Day

2011-11-04T09:41:00.002Z

Watched this last night. Good stuff.

Quote of the weekend

2011-11-04T09:37:00.001Z

I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance. Rimbaud

Quote of the week

2011-11-03T12:51:00.002Z

'In a world gone mad, only a lunatic is truly insane.'

2011-11-02T10:43:00.004Z

Change

I do not have any
I do not want any
I have no time for it
The space around me constricts me far too tightly
For it

The space inside me restricts any further
- Ah
There is no room left to move

Change
How overrated
Played under the table like
A game of 21 with yourself
Always the winner
Always the rookie
A fallacy created by mothers and managers and
Those who know no better

Change
For eternity until you turn
Right
Back
And like the fish
You will find yourself leaping
Into the fuzzy brown jaws of death

One day no doubt
A wave will overtake me
Washing me ashore
Salty and new
Waking to a new day
Maturity and wisdom
Patience and calm
Peace

One day
No doubt
Though the Sun may catch the Earth before that
Happens.

HMM. Again? Again and again...

2011-11-02T10:14:00.001Z

Bruuah-ha-haaaa!

2011-10-31T11:24:00.001Z

The Halloween post from the best skate blog on the interweb (when does 're-posting' cross over into straight up theivery?) included these 2 images - I couldn't choose which to post so did them both. I had no idea at the time that everyone else loved that Corey O'Brien graphic as much as I did - one of my all time fave boards to this day. And a quick shout out to the OG Skate City in Bromley where we'd buy our 'bootleg' Slimeballs.

Peej at the Albert

2011-10-28T11:00:00.003+01:00

Off to the Albert Hall to see this lady on Sunday. I know this is an old photo

but I used it because a. I like it, and b. Val took it. And Val's nice.

Post-show update...
PJH/RAH

Dark, feathered, loud, soft, choral, primal, weightless, heavy, old, new. At points it felt like a sun collapsing in on itself, the density taking everything in the room toward it. Polly Harvey.

(we were WAY closer than this but I-phones are shite in low light) rhyming.

the 'Zone

2011-10-26T13:15:00.001+01:00

A marathon of these on Blu Ray is the best night time remedy for boredom filled days at work.

A Blu bonus is the original sponsor adverts they drop inbetween the episodes:

Locals Only

2011-10-25T09:08:00.001+01:00

Waiting for this...

Quote of the day

2011-10-20T10:37:00.002+01:00

Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.
Walt Whitman

2011-10-19T15:04:00.006+01:00

You ever tried meditation? I mean really? It’s crazy hard.

Sometimes when you’re stressed and panicking about everyday life problems, you get tired, run down and so – you go to bed. Only to find when you get there that your eyes are fixed open, your brain running at 100 miles an hour. After a time you tend to focus your thoughts down onto something familiar or comfortable and this begins to relax you somewhat. This can be a subconscious move - your brain retreating a little to stop it overheating. I always end up on skateboarding. The physical act of it is probably the main reason, constant flow, carving, the smoothness of surfaces and good weather required to be able to skate are all positive images, and thinking of things I want to do or places I would like to be is a great distraction. The vision of bright yellow sunshine in a transworld blue sky while in a pitch dark room at 1am seems to be enough to metaprogramme the grey tissue and ensure a slow drift into the world of dreams.

So thinking on this, I decided to write a piece called ‘Concrete Meditation’ due to the images of skateparks and grey transitions that would frequent these thoughts. And as I sometimes do before using a title, I Googled it to check if it already existed in some other form, as sometimes I tend to avoid an overused or already ‘taken’ term. This is what I found:

Meditation is of two main kinds, viz., Saguna (concrete) meditation and Nirguna (abstract) meditation. In concrete meditation the Yogic student concentrates on the form of the Lord Krishna, Rama, Siva, Hari, Gayatri or Sri Devi. In abstract meditation he concentrates the whole energy of the mind on one idea of God or Atman and avoids comparisons of memories and all other ideas. The one idea fills the whole mind.

Now I’m not saying I ride around grinding curbs on ‘God’ but it’s the practice of focusing on form vs idea that I find fits what I meant really well. So seeing as it does already exist, I won’t be writing the piece I was planning to because after discovering that info, I guess I don’t need to anymore. Who knew, I’d been meditating all along.

2011-10-17T15:35:00.002+01:00

Tying in (vaguely) with the Richter post - here's a Sonic Youth track
in respect of Kim and Thurston's marriage being no more.
(ha! like they're my friends or something... I never even met those guys!)

art2

2011-10-16T20:56:00.000+01:00

portrait images never seem to work to well on the blog, but anyway... these are from our visit to the Gerhard Richter show which was ridiculous on so many levels that I had to leave before being made to feel totally unremarkable. Pics are the Tacita Dean turbine hall projection which is also really good - despite all the blond haired Tarquins and Tabernacles slapping the screen going 'waa waa waa' while there fucknuts parents stood drinking their Starbucks.

art

2011-10-14T09:15:00.003+01:00

Isaac was very pleased with the first canvas for his bedroom.

Fresh from the Fos SE14 clearout sale.

2011-10-13T14:51:00.005+01:00

The inward facing life and times of a minstrel from beyond.

I am not here to help, merely to resent. The least pliable materials imaginable combined within that initial bang to form this body. As long a time as it all took to combine, suppressed under the weight of dying stars. Gases no longer - but eyes, toenails and vicious tongue...

I am not here to support or advise, complement or even tolerate, simply to ignore with extreme prejudice. To maintain excommunication and build upon an ever increasing outward defence. Higher sharper, blacker, whiter...

I am not here for these things, because I am not from here. I never was. This has been confirmed to me time and again and continues to be so. The space between the language, the vacuum where thoughts are no longer born, a blanket of blank looks and fallen gazes. As I sing out loud, these earth songs - but only to myself...

And the talking - but the talking - goes on like the dripping of a broken tap while everyone else is trying to sleep, small and echoing. Laser light. All wavelengths in unison, continuous, and irrelevant for being so. The concept of infinity being lost on the majority...

Red, straight, defended, suppressed. Resentment, alien, jealousy, and far too lazy for any useful rage. Sloth within blood flow causes and affects a single eye needle. Pronoun and preposition error, syntax disintegration, contact equalling immolation. All false rhymes to distract from the simple fact that I simply do not belong.

2011-10-08T15:56:00.002+01:00

y'know what...

2011-10-07T09:09:00.004+01:00

Action Jackson. That's what.

2011-10-05T22:25:00.005+01:00

Filmed in the summer. Mellow little roll about.

2011-10-05T14:29:00.003+01:00

The flat Mr Fox

2011-10-03T10:59:00.000+01:00

You could hear the flesh slap against the front

Wheels

As the car ran him over,

It wasn’t the death strike -

That must’ve happened hours before - but

Damn,

He’d been got good

As they say.

There were 4 or 5 solid pieces of torso,

Orange fur covered steaks.

Like someone had taken the cleaver to him

And lay him out like that to tenderise the meat.

It was as grotesque a thing as I’d seen all year,

Up close anyway,

But still I didn’t care.

It was probably him shitting in my garden,

His babies mewing and screeching into the small

Hours.

I didn’t care that he was dead,

Or how it happened.

Or that his remains were being desecrated by

Each passing bus or

Truck or

Motorcycle.

I saw a pigeon a little later on that morning,

Flattened on the tarmac and guts out,

Dirty grey feathers blowing across the streets of Soho,

It was nowhere

Near

As impressive.

Juxtapoz+Jeremy Fish+Absolut=

2011-10-01T10:38:00.003+01:00

Edition 6 of 10. Stoked.

2011-09-30T10:38:00.001+01:00

www.aesoprock.com

the sky is filled with light

2011-09-29T13:10:00.004+01:00

2011-09-27T12:28:00.000+01:00

Reasons the 70's ruled - Part 1.

Nothing/No one – Act II.

2011-09-26T12:13:00.002+01:00

I have forgotten again

The weeks now past

My weakness now passed

Memory amended

Personality disorder rebranded

I had the bullets in my head

Ready to fire

One for each line

Perhaps they shot away

While I slept

Or rolled to the gutter

While I strode the paving slabs

Towards work

They are now gone away

Regardless of how much I need them

I carry an empty gun

Without even a flower to block the barrel

My internal dialogue is a song about a

Song

I have forgotten

And the external monologue rings

In my ears but then

Everything rings in my ears nowadays

The lines get longer and state less

It is all steam escaping

From a boiling saucepan

A spider sways above me and curses my name for disturbing his

Sleep.

Goodbye REM

2011-09-22T09:22:00.004+01:00

“A wise man once said – ‘the skill in attending a party is knowing when it's time to leave.’ We built something extraordinary together. We did this thing. And now we're going to walk away from it … I hope our fans realize this wasn't an easy decision; but all things must end, and we wanted to do it right, to do it our way.”

This band were quite literally the soundtrack to a really important part of my life. Fronted by one of the people who I respect most as a writer and artist, and who still inspires me to keep writing.

Click here for a gallery.

Release

2011-09-20T11:01:00.001+01:00

Both of these are out from today:

Just as a bit of trivia - the Holy Terror was originally going to be Batman.

combo

2011-09-19T14:21:00.003+01:00

YouTube/Kittens - always a winner. Throw some lightsabers in there and you're golden... Cheers to my bro for sending me this:

Walken

2011-09-19T10:48:00.001+01:00

So your wife goes to drink cocktails at Chateau Marmont in L.A and ends up in a conversation with this guy about how good his cosmopolitans are:

True story.

the view from (not) here

2011-09-13T09:22:00.001+01:00

Lu's view of Greenland. I'm watching Gilmore Girls - doesn't really compare...

Quote of the day

2011-09-08T09:52:00.000+01:00

One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important. Bertrand Russell

Anniversary

2011-09-02T10:03:00.001+01:00

Today marks 15 years of this...

Happy anniversary wife. X

Quote of the day

2011-09-02T09:59:00.002+01:00

Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up. Pablo Picasso

To do the same thing over and over again is not only boredom: it is to be controlled by rather than to control what you do.

2011-09-02T09:31:00.002+01:00

... yawn.

Quote of the day

2011-08-31T10:57:00.004+01:00

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions. Rilke

Dead End

2011-08-26T09:55:00.003+01:00

I forgot about this. it's been on my hard drive for years but as my Mac is literally dying I haven't watched it in forever. A pre-Nolan Batman (vs predator / vs Alien). Sick:

Jaws

2011-08-25T09:43:00.001+01:00

Between this clip and THIS clip... I don't know what's even going on anymore. Seriously.

Stop.

2011-08-24T16:00:00.002+01:00

If they are in your way

Slow

Turn

Stop

If they’re blocking your flow

Change

Soften

Yield

If they will not submit

Dance

Adapt

Improvise

Just walk in the goddamn road.

Everything spins into today.

2011-08-23T11:48:00.002+01:00

Daydreams fight their way into me and I fight

Back

I’m a wall

A tank

A stray dog unleashed

Protecting no one

Only fighting to keep what is

Mine

The little sanity left

From the overspill of years gone by

When the rain fell like it

Falls

Today, and I sit alone staring out of windows

As the grey sky

Grey city

Grey heartbeats

Turn toward death and menace

And wishes try to slide under the carpet

Under the floorboards

Through my misted eyes in an attempt to make me

Succumb to the other reality

The non local, non event

A rise in adrenaline and car crash of mind

Body

And soul

I am a prisoner with nothing to lose

No escape necessary

Simply drowning in idiocy and hatred

Pessimism and naive fantasy combining

Like knives in my back

And it all spins into today

Same as last year

Same as the last 20 years

In and out

Back to front and a hundred miles to heaven

The grey city envelopes me

Suffocates in some kind of childish game

The words fail as always

The faces blank, voices are background radiation

At best

And the only sense to be made from it

All

Remains light years away.

It’s really not as easy as it seems.

2011-08-16T10:29:00.000+01:00

A board drops with a loud CLACK

Legs push and push then stand

Lean

Carve

Roll around corners

It glides through

On and on...

But that is not what I see.

I see broken paving stones

Uneven curbs

Small plant life creeping from

Between cracks

Soft tar

Rough pebble dash concrete

Jagged drain covers

Wet from the morning rain

Dog shit

Pigeon shit

Spilt coffee and last nights vomit

I see a chasm of bodies

Columns of legs closing in

Arms out dangling steaming

Hot coffees

Eyes away

Or down on phones

Unaware

And then Broken glass

Dogs

Feral children...

I see around corners

I see the ground immediate, and the

Road ahead

All at once

I lighten my body and

Lower my centre of gravity

Within a split second

Buildings pass at high speed but

I turn right angles before

You

Can blink

And stop on the spot as though

Glued to the street

All this to get from point A

To point B.

20 years in, and it is still so

Much

Fun.

Viewage

2011-08-12T15:21:00.001+01:00

Tonight:

Tomorrow:

Customer service

2011-08-11T15:49:00.002+01:00

Because I'm petty, and bored...

From: buying@*******.com
To: *********@hotmail.com
Date: Thu, 21 Jul 2011 08:06:41 +0100
Subject: Your ****order has been posted.

Dear *******

Your order for "Toy Story 3: Double Play has been posted by the ****** Seller ****UK.
Please allow 3-4 days delivery. Please check the following order information:

On 21 Jul 2011, at 09:17, ********@hotmail.com> wrote:

Hello
I was not aware when ordering, that this item was used and may need to return it if the condition is not satisfactory. Can you please let me know the procedure should I need to do so.

Kind regards

********

From: ********@gmail.com
Date: Thu, 21 Jul 2011 11:45:17 +0100
Subject: Re: Your ******* order has been posted.
To: ***********@hotmail.com

It’s really very clear on the ****.com website when things are sold used or sold new. I am a private trader using the ****.com ******* facility to sell on my used products. This product was really clearly indicated as “Used – Very Good” under the condition column. In future, I suggest you pay closer attention to what you are buying to save situations such as this. I have refunded and cancelled the order. Luckily, I have managed to stop the parcel being posted (although that’s a wasted jiffy bag).

Thanks.

*******.

Sent from my iPhone

Dear *****

Thank you for reply and for refunding the item. I’m not quite sure where your frustration stems from, however I’d suggest you re-read some of your email replies prior to sending out, to try and limit the hostile tone contained therein.

Firstly I clearly stated that I – myself – did not notice the item was used until after the fact, and thereby claimed the oversight as my own.

Nor did I ask you to refund the dvd. I asked for details of the procedure in case I felt a return was necessary. The fact you have kept the item has inconvenienced me greatly, as it was to be a gift for a small child whom now may go without a birthday present due to your inability to read plainly worded emails.

Lastly, I truly and deeply regret your loss of a jiffy bag. If you can spare a moment out of your busy schedule of posting dvds and not reading people’s correspondence properly, I would be more than happy (possibly even joyously so) to send you a brand new jiffy bag for all of the trouble I have caused by requesting you press some buttons on your computer keyboard.

Peace love and understanding,

Mr ***** Esq. BA, PhD, MD.

Broken Bells

2011-08-11T14:34:00.000+01:00

I had to do the 'who's this playing?' thing, for the first time in years, in Selectadisc - sorry - Sister Ray the other day. It was these guys. Not this track, but this video has Christina Hendricks in it so, yeah...

J Lee

2011-08-11T14:30:00.001+01:00

After reading the Jason Lee interview at ABD I thought I'd post the clip that I've watched a million times and that everyone who skates already owns... so really what's the point. But here you go:

Riot quote of the week

2011-08-11T14:16:00.000+01:00

Thought I'd let all the hoo-haa die down before bothering with any mention of the local mischief...

'Whenever a theory appears to you as the only possible one, take this as a sign that you have neither understood the theory nor the problem which it was intended to solve.' Karl Popper

Show

2011-08-04T11:45:00.003+01:00

30 Davies Street

London W1K 4NB
www.gimpelfils.com

Corinne Day
THE FACE

1 September - 1 October 2011
Private View: Thursday 1 September, 6-8 pm

For further information please contact alice@gimpelfils.com
Tel: +44 (0)20 7493 2488 Gallery hours: Mon - Fri 10am - 5.30pm, Sat 11am - 4pm

Follow us on Facebook

A conversation started by a link to Rolling Stone...

2011-08-02T15:27:00.003+01:00

http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/rza-discusses-his-role-producing-watch-the-throne-20110801

Honestly, I’m just over Kanye and all them – if Hov wants to come with a grimy analog hip hop album then I’m there – otherwise it’s all equivalent to Em doing a record with frickin’ Rhi-Rhi as far as I’m concerned. Wasted talent.

Ha!

I put 95-2005 Hov over pretty much all other mc’s as far as the perfect mix of lyrics, flow, wit, consistency, punchlines, beat selection, beef, ‘swag’ *ahem* and all that, which makes this ‘I’ve still got it’ old man routine all the more painful as a Jigga fan from back in the day. Seriously, remember our debates/arguments about whether he was any good aside from reasonable doubt? It’s painful for me to watch.

Right. And when ‘on to the next one’ drops you’re like – again – why aren’t you doing WHOLE ALBUMS of this? Same with Em for me – where even on ‘without me’ (which I dislike) lyrically and the way he flows is still the shit, but I cannot get past the music. Wasted.

All those cats need to: make your mark/money/move on. You’re not Led Zeppelin or the Beatles or Radiohead where you can change record to record and maintain any semblance of integrity – so stop trying.

Or even the soulful shit on ‘American Gangster’... Hov and Beans over a Just Blaze / Isley Brother’s loop? Yes please. This skinny jeans / electro beats soul sample with me shouting ‘swag' for four minutes is a waste of everything.

Yeah Em needs to stop too, sadly some of his flow on ‘relapse’ is the best he’s ever had, but the beats and the content? Horrid. Do that Scarface shit, of, ‘every five years I drop an album, same producers, same vibe, same ethos. Maybe the odd club track’...I think it’s called ‘doing me’. fuck all this ‘I’m still twenty’ shit.

Dudes are killing rap. Them and the blog rappers. Fuck it, whatever, it’s over. Life goes on.

It’s true – funnily enough it parallels skateboarding like that – it goes in cycles of getting too big/overexposed and the only thing it can do to prevent imploding completely is to go underground again and recoup.

Like I don’t give a flying fig that P-Rod is in the new Nike TV commercial along with some surfers/bmxers etc – all glossy and shit. Same with the Adidas one – all ‘faces’ and hype. Pah – there IS no scene anymore – there is no music industry anymore!

It’s all mass marketed - homogenised bullshit. And still, at the end of the day there’ll always be some dude skating a waxed curb somewhere by himself, and having a blast - and dudes in a basement making fat beats that will never see the light of day, bar on a mix CD.

So yeah – whatever.

MS

2011-07-22T13:09:00.000+01:00

Yellow circus left the stakes a broken ropes world's useless mug
The ties that bind, ha ha
I can be bad poet
Street poet
Shit poet
Kind poet too

Subway
Almost 4AM
Halloween night
Had enough to drink to make my own party
All my fellow writers in half costume, half asleep
Half silly, gone to seed

I don't mark my time with dates, holidays, faded wisdom, locked karma holders
Convenient

I am made by my times
I am a creation of now
Shaken with the cracks and crevices
I'm not giving up easy
I will not fold
I don't have much
But what I have is gold

I saw your face...

I sing in platinum
I dress in brass
I eat in zinc
Let it pass

Compare a toast
I like that
I understand courage
I still roll with the shout of a character I was married to today
I try to see outside myself
I understand the eyes
Excuse all the highs
Sorry
I am sorry
Ha ha

I like you, love you, every coast of you.
I've seen your eddies and tides and hurricanes and cyclones.
Low ebb tide and high, full moon.
Up close and distant.
I read you.
Look, the sky, the sea, the ocean, the sun, the moon.
Blue, blue, blue, blue, blue, blue, blue blue, blue, blue, blue, blue.
Naked and blue.

Breathing with you. Touch. Change. Shift. Allow air. Window open. Drift. Drift away. Into now.

I want Whitman proud. Patti Lee proud. My brothers proud. My sisters proud. I want me. I want it all. I want sensational. Irresistible.

This is my time and I am thrilled to be alive.
Living. Blessed. I understand.

REM. Blue.

Survival techniques

2011-07-19T09:40:00.001+01:00

Today the inside of my brain looks like this...

Wow, guilt.

2011-07-15T12:22:00.002+01:00

When you are attacked so frequently,

Softly and over time,

You remain hardened without any effort

At all.

Everything is practicality winning out.

Utilitarianism,

For want of a better term.

Fear for

Another.

Defence and survivalism

And so on.

When your head is at 45 degrees

For most of the day,

Eyes open most of the

Night,

Your walls are at least chest high.

Jacket zipped -

Buttons fastened -

Laces tucked within your shoes to avoid any

Snags.

Pretence will do where

Otherwise an air of alienation would envelope

You.

And so an arms length becomes the

Normal unit of measure.

And so on.

When you live

Through these minor fluctuations of realism,

Never quite gaining a foothold on

Solid ground,

Always being the lost puzzle piece,

Everything is suspect.

Second guesses lead to a third and to the

Nth degree.

And so this leads me

To yesterday,

In the middle of a playground sandpit

Walking away from a young girl

Who was just trying to be friendly.

My auto response button stuck down.

Before even feeling the sand shift

Under my feet,

I am away.

Maybe she was normal,

Maybe she was a freak.

Though if she wasn’t she didn’t give me the

Secret handshake we freaks like to exchange

Under tables in small Parisian cafes.

And either way

She’d probably watched people walk away from her

All her short

Life.

Who knew?

Again and as usual

All of this had to be brought to my attention

After the fact.

(For someone so interested in human behaviour

I seem to be remarkably

Insensitive to other peoples feelings...)

I took it all away with me and forgot about it

Until this morning, when I kind of felt what she

Did,

Or must have.

And it was nothing.

Neither sadness nor rejection but

The normality of it all.

Oh look -

They’re leaving me alone

Sitting here in the playground with

My sandals off and little

Red painted toenails

Peeking up from beneath the sand.

No surprise at all.

And my stomach hurt for a moment

And all those other things

Inside and out

Cumulus rain clouds

Pins and needles

The survival

Pretence and

Alienation

Minor tricks of the moronic

Trickling down the back of your neck

They all

Gained a little perspective.

Tangled

2011-07-15T12:03:00.001+01:00

Even if it did have musical numbers, I liked it...

A photograph

2011-07-15T11:43:00.002+01:00

of Jake by Mark J. Which I liked - so posted up. Why not eh. Though what are those 3 lights in the sky about? Are they just street lights - or the Summer Triangle? Coincidence or some subtle Illuminati code? You decide, I don't care either way. From the Alley.

Hail Mary Mallon

2011-07-14T11:02:00.001+01:00

If you have to ask, you'll never know.

Eames

2011-07-14T09:51:00.002+01:00

About a hundred years ago while Lu and I were in San Francisco, in one of the last bars where you could still smoke, we were sitting up on a dark balcony listening to the DJ play a really good set of classic hip hop while a projection played on one of the wall. The projection was a series of looped films by Charles and Ray Eames. Most people usually recognise their Eames 'Lounger' chair more than anything else they did - and they did a lot. These guys were polymaths - and pretty much borderline geniuses in my eyes.This is one such film - a deceptively simple idea elegantly executed. Take the time to YouTube some more and read up on them as the work is really inspiring.

Pfanti Hero

2011-07-12T09:56:00.003+01:00

Chris Pfanner from dlxsf on Vimeo.

C. R. Stecyk III

2011-07-11T16:20:00.003+01:00

Luxuria, C. R. Stecyk III from MOCA on Vimeo.

2011-07-09T14:57:00.002+01:00

Natas animation

2011-07-08T11:22:00.002+01:00

Natas Skateboard Projection Paris from Blue Collar Distro on Vimeo.

Imagine a plucked, white skinned turkey that won’t shut the fuck up, and you’ll be halfway there.

2011-07-07T12:55:00.002+01:00

Suffering is a state of mind

If indeed you have a mind

The ability to speak does

Not

Make you right minded

Or left in a field of daisies

Dreaming

And yet – HARK - this

Noise

Fills the air

Hanging there

Like a wet towel stinking and

Raw

A damp taste on your

Buds

And you are left

Craving ice and mountain air

And you are left wanting to

Hike the north face

Granite hard and clear as day

Left open mouthed

Eyes raised to the rolling flurries

That keep you upright on

Your spikes

But instead we hang beneath cars

Sucking giant tail pipes

Suck up the grey motherfucker

This is what we do

Accept it

And you are right

Craving acceptance and credibility

And you are left alone

With no one to face

Granite hard and black as night

Open mouthed

Eyes raised

Upright on your spikes

And by the way

Turkey

Chicken

Duck

Pig or warthog

They’re all the same

Gobble, snort, rut, fuck, die.

Quote of the day

2011-07-07T11:24:00.000+01:00

“I have never grown out of the infantile belief that the universe was made for me to suck.” Crowley.

The wrong time

2011-07-06T11:05:00.000+01:00

The big man came in

Lumbering

Not slow but still looking as though formed of concrete

They were both champs and the smaller one

Started to duck and weave

The first was usually a measuring game

Feel the other out

Time it right

Then come out swinging from the 2^nd onwards

Unless we’re talking about Hagler/Hearns

Those two fought the first like it was the fifteenth

Arms were up

A few jabs tapped

Side to side

On the back foot

This went on

Both neutral

The odd flurry

Frequent slips

Stoppages and

Warnings

This went on

Until it became clear nothing was going to happen

And though frustrated at the lack of contact

Cheated almost

I felt good at least I hadn’t paid to watch the thing live

Our champ swung the overhead right

Time and again

Like the uppercut had never been invented

I kept thinking of Iron Mike and how he’d work his way inside

From the bell

To the end of the story

Their champ just stood

Leant

Smiled

Grappled and raised his eyebrows

As though waiting for a bus that was never

Coming

I knew the feeling

It was the start of the week

I was sick with a cold

Sick with hatred for the world

Sick with self confidence

I practiced my breathing

Managed 45 sit-ups

Distracting at least my body for a time

If not my mind

I made vows I knew I’d break before sunset

Lies I tell myself

To help me fall asleep each night

I thought about writing and then thought

Not

And realised I never – hardly

Write at home anymore

Alone or outside

In the old dark corners of coffeeshops

My refuge all those years ago

It’s always at the job now, I thought

Trying to hide it

Disguise the real work as theirs

Stopping and starting

It’s not the right time to do it – I thought

But there you go

Let’s go

Carry on

Come on

Arms are up

A few jabs tapped

Side to side

On the back foot

This goes on

Neutral

Bar the odd flurry

Frequent slips

Stoppages and

Warnings

This goes on

Until it becomes clear nothing is ever going to

Happen.

Quote of the day

2011-07-06T10:42:00.002+01:00

Society is no comfort to one not sociable. Shakespeare.

True Grit

2011-07-06T10:39:00.000+01:00

Watched this last night. Bit of a strange ending if you ask me - but Jeff Bridges is still the man. And Corey Webster plays the bad guy.

Beatnik (prison calm).

2011-06-29T11:25:00.003+01:00

Everybody dies

Man

I just passed one lying on the street

Writhing on his back over the warm white paving

Stones

People slowing to stare

Maybe to help

Not me

I have places to go

Someone to be

Even being in the death house

The big white building

The stench of cleanliness burning the back of my tongue

Only confirms how little I care about it all

So many of them lining hallways and

Waiting

Waiting for it

I’m sure somewhere deep

Down

There’s a feeling

Something

But for now

I have things to do

Places to be

Time to kill and

Well

Hell

What else I couldn’t even

Say

It is not anger or resentment

Man

But prison calm

Learned

Necessary and engrained

Not just in here but

Out there

For you and him and her and

Them

And I know inside that

I am still here

A little bit curled up maybe

A little weary and hiding

Away

Sure

Everybody dies man

As we are taken over

By the framework

And the structure of all things

The baseline order

Defeating our unique ability to inflame desire

And manifest anarchy

We all speed forward out of control

Even the snail

The tortoise

A straight line

Invisible

Comical

And upon our backs throughout all

This

We have these flies at our picnic

(stolen words to describe the banal presence of all bosses everywhere)

As they push and pull and press and eventually

Break

You

Or not

Whatever

But they will try nevertheless

For reasons unknown even to them

Just because

They are told what to tell you

To do

But

Having to breathe and eat and shit and

Fuck and love and sleep

Takes all of our heartbeat and clenched fist

There is no surplus adrenaline left to heighten our defences

To raise shields against their grey threat

So what to do

What to do

Adopt a smooth hard face trained to indicate nothing –

Neither resistance nor slavishness

Words written a long time ago

Still holding true.

Good morning truth...

2011-06-24T10:55:00.002+01:00

The house is silent, save for the dustbin truck

Grinding its way past

Outside the front window

And a small prism that hangs in there

Throws shards of rainbow across the white walls

Across the ceiling and rug

Across the sofa and my hand that holds my

Morning coffee

I open my palm to examine the splinters of colour

Each one long and razor thin

White light, white noise

Split into its component parts

The only real truth I think I will be privy to today

The baby stirs from the back bedroom and

I go to greet him

He smiles and frowns all in one

Happy to see me and resentful at having to move

From under

The mountainous white duvet

We lay watching cartoons for a time

The sun not yet having reached behind the house

We lay at the mid point, at a fork in the road

I lay undecided as to my intentions for the day

To stay where colour reveals itself

Or remain awake and battle the white light.

Anticipation

2011-06-23T09:31:00.000+01:00

Not a Loon or Bonzo in sight...

2011-06-22T16:11:00.001+01:00

Sorry it's been a really fucking slow week... Give the drummer some.