Jose Parla exhibition

The Empire Strikes Dutch

From Indiewire:

Michael Parbot, a French journalist who gained unprecedented access to the 'Empire' production, contributed his footage to two documentaries: “SPFX: The Empire Strikes Back,” a behind-the-scenes look at the film's special effects, and a 1980 Dutch TV program showcasing lightsaber rehearsal footage and interviews with the cast.

The first made it onto the trilogy's Blu-ray release in 2011, but the Dutch program has only been seen in near-unwatchable snippets, appearing last in 2012 with 15 minutes available. Finally though, our clearest and most extended (30-minute) look has arrived, and it features fascinating conversations with Irvin Kershner, Mark Hamill, and a bashful Harrison Ford.

George Lucas himself is notably absent, but the doc shows instead the incredible technical work done by both the actors and crew, facing such situations as shooting in Norway's extreme weather to depict Hoth, and also how to wrangle Tauntauns and Wampas as well.

Jose Parla

So I'm going to this Jose Parla show this Saturday. When I started the blog - it was going to be a combination of my writing, art and music interests, and some other stuff that gave context to what inspires me and the work I (eventually) produce. That format went kind of awry over the years but it's nice to look back over old posts and see things come full circle. Makes me feel like I'm doing something right...

I was about to post the usual 'hey I was SO into this before you guys...' when I saw the date I posted the original piece - exactly five years ago today. Exactly five years. That's satisfying enough that I don't need to make the point about 'being in there first'.

But I was.

Bob again

Cary Grant was once told, "Every time I see you on the screen, I think, 'I wish I was Cary Grant.'" He replied, "That's just what I think!"

I've been repeating that story ever since I first heard it, and it never fails to amuse audiences, all of whom seem to understand it immediately. Everybody groks that Archie Leach, the poor boy from Liverpool who became "Cary Grant" never fully believed in "Cary Grant," since Cary was, after all, his own invention. On the other hand, here's a similar story, which I also like to tell, that produces very mixed reactions, with some people laughing and others looking puzzled or slightly offended.

An art dealer once went to Pablo Picasso and said, "I have a bunch of 'Picasso' canvasses that I was thinking of buying. Would you look them over and tell me which are real and which are forgeries?" Picasso obligingly began sorting the paintings into two piles. Then, as the Great Man added one particular picture to the fake pile, the dealer cried, "Wait a minute, Pablo. That's no forgery. I was visiting you the weekend you painted it." Picasso replied imperturbably, "No matter. I can fake a Picasso as well as any thief in Europe."

Personally, I find this story not only amusing but profoundly disturbing. It has caused me to think, every time I finish a piece of writing, "Is this a real Robert Anton Wilson, or did I just fake a Robert Anton Wilson?" Sometimes, especially with a long novel, I find it impossible to convince myself that I know the answer. After all, as Nietzche said, "there are no facts, only interpretations"...... Continue reading...

TIZER

My old college chum is having a show. If you dig the smell of spray paint you should go.

Tizer ID crew first solo Show will be at Pure Evil Gallery the 7th March 2013.

The Real

Lif and Q-Bert with the real hip hop.

'Easter'

nigger no invented for color it was MADE FOR THE PLAGUE the word (art) must be redefined-all mutants and the new babes born sans eyebrow and tonsil-outside logic-beyond mathematics poli-tricks baptism and motion sickness-any man who extends beyond the classic for is a nigger-one sans fear and despair-one who rises like rimbaud beating hard gold rythumn outta soft solid shit-tongue light is coiling serpant is steaming spinal avec ray gun hissing scanning copper head w/ white enamel eye wet and shining crown reeling thru gleem vegetation ruby dressing of thy lips puckering whispering pressing high bruised thighs silk route mark prussian vibrating gushing milk pods of de/light translating new languages new and abused rock n roll and lashing from tongue of me nigger 20.10.74 r.e.f.m.

Patti Smith, liner notes for Rock N Roll Nigger. 

Jonty Hurwitz

www.jontyhurwitz.com

Robert Johnson

'...blues falling down like hail, and the day keeps on remindin' me, 
there's a hellhound on my trail'

Brother Ray

I think this is old. Not sure why I only just found it...

Elliot Smith

Circa 1999 or 2000, director Paul Thomas Anderson oversaw a pilot for a musical VH1 variety show that would have starred his frequent musical collaborator Jon Brion. The late singer-songwriter Elliot Smith appeared in the pilot... He's backed by Brion and Brad Mehldau. As IndieWire points out, footage from the pilot has floated around before, but now a YouTube account associated with Anderson has posted the whole thing online.

Thom Yorke mix

Click Here

And then a cigarette.

An experiment in the miniscule
In an attempt to connect with the outside
The outer limits
The twilight zone

Short-lived
In subjective surroundings

Unclassifiable and unofficial
But an experiment nonetheless

Unhindered by outside influence I am without the restraints of the everyday

The rules and boxes and checklists
I am Wells sitting in his imagined time machine
Only smaller

Less pertinent and

Far less acknowledged
As I sit and light up a pointless cigarette
And drink again
Too early too soon never enough

The experiment is thus –
How
Long
Can
You
Simply
Go
On
Never having to change.

first. day. back

First day back to work tomorrow. Yay. After two weeks off. Nothing accomplished. As planned. I'd rather just do this until summer comes...

Last Exit

 

I'll be concentrating on writing (drinking) over Christmas. So I'll be submitting a lot of work for publication in the new year (being tired and lazy and probably hungover). Going to leave the blog for the next couple of weeks, to focus on being productive elsewhere (wearing trampy track-bottoms and eating crap). Have a good break y'all. Be Excellent to one another.

Pabs

Newton

Back in the olden days before my knees turned to concrete, I used to meet up with this guy (and some other weird little dude from New Cross who has since decamped to LALA Land) and skate about after buying comics off him. Newton was always a good artist and for some reason it's taken me this long to link him up. So go HERE and check it out.

Old work

You should really be doing something else.


Look at the earth from space
Be kind to the elderly
Cross your fingers not your eyes
Make bruises show in public
Waste no more time or money or hatred or thought
Kiss your mother
Find a father
Have a baby or 5
Leave the country
Learn something
Take a life
(Any but your own.)
Watch the moon rise quietly and laugh out loud at the
Insignificance
Of
It
All.

On the performance of the performing poet.

  

Do these poets and poetesses desire a career on the

Silver screen

Name up in lights

Flowers down at

Feet? It seems that way tonight.

Would they rather they were a singer or rapper

The label ‘poet’ as just a temporary affliction?

The question hangs in the air.

They writhe and shout and contort themselves while lost

In the moment (Or if not the moment then a moment.

Yet still nowhere near Jimi inside the Star Spangled banner)

And exuding confidence, the crowd falls

In line

Laughing

And then the dreaded WHOO

I hate the whoo

Call me a traditionalist

Call me an old

Man

Call me a hater and jealous and better than you

And I am all these things

But some words are meant to be read

Not read

Out

And while there are exceptions to the rule – this

Particular night was saved by SW – they are few

It is for Carl GJ to discern the introvert/extrovert ratio

I am just here to listen

To make it through to the beautiful reflection of the

Cold and dark, in one piece

Back home alone in my small silent corner

To write about them while they

Tour the stages of the

World.

Shinichi Maruyama

Long exposure nude photography. More HERE.

SWXSB

Off to see this dude and some other spoken worders tomorrow night. I'll try to do a small review later in the week if I don't come out of there totally despondant about my lack of effort towards producing anything creative and and worthwhile in life...

Chet Childress art stuff

I really want to go to this show opening, but it falls on the same night as Saul Williams

at Southbank. Classic. Still, if you're around you should go. Looks good.

Cab & Hosoi

This is my happy face.

Small things to keep you awake at night.

I consider the distance between the

Table and sofa

While my heart

As miner’s canary

Takes its last breath

Too far by a matter of inches

Or just right

The voice laughs

It is never just right

I cannot sleep

There was a time

I think

But no more

Everything is tomorrow and yesterday

Everything I knew was coming

Has

And will

I guess that makes me a real smart guy.

Quote of the night

If words are not things, or maps are not the actual territory, then, obviously, the only possible link between the objective world and the linguistic world is found in structure, and structure alone.

Alfred Korzybski

AITU

As previously reported - from the Art in the Underbelly Exhibition - here is David Lemm's art coupled with mine. From the forthcoming booklet of the show.

SG_PJ

She walked in between two thoughts;

The glass case over the cookies looked like one huge breast

A disproportionately bulbous nipple-handle atop it

And

When was I going to turn into that crazy old man

That all around me would find wonderfully eccentric?

I heard the click clack that

Always makes your head turn

And there she was for the first time in, well

The devil only knows how many years

But here now

Yet not the same

Someone I knew who’d been once so

Disarming and light of heart and head

Now looked down at her shoes as though the weight of the room

Was

Too much for her to remain in any one spot

For longer than a few seconds

I stood back and watched as opportunities passed

Her

By

As she ignored - or pretended to ignore

The smiles and eye contact

There was no fear to her but rather apathy

Then looking up she caught my eye and in an instant I was lost again

Swimming in what she used to be

What she could have been

(anything anywhere to everyone)

Her head fell back down just as quickly

She stared towards the floor

Shamed by something

A choice she never made

Or one she did

To be removed, distant, steely yet alive

I felt guilty for reminding her of all those things -

Ordered my coffee and left without a word

Who am I to regret the passing of yet another good one

One who decided to throw it all in for no other reason than

The rest of us just aren’t worth the damn trouble.

'Are you lost yet?'

 

Here's the setlist from Radiohead at the O2 on 9th October. I'm not going to review the show because honestly, it would take too long to find the right words. Suffice to say, now REM are gone, these guys are the closest thing we have to Wyld Stallyns. Bloody awful venue though...

Lotus Flower, Airbag, Bloom, The Daily Mail, Myxomatosis, Bodysnatchers, The Gloaming, Separator, Videotape, Nude, Weird Fishes/Arpeggi, Reckoner, There There, The National Anthem, Feral, Paranoid Android.

Give Up the Ghost, I Might Be Wrong, Planet Telex, Morning Mr. Magpie, Street Spirit (Fade Out).

Staircase, Everything In Its Right Place, (True Love Waits intro) Idioteque. 

Quote of the day

In the academic world, most of the work that is done is clerical. A lot of the work done by professors is routine.   Noam Chomsky