Tag: media

Any time it snows, parts of my brain shunt into being six years old. This can be rather embarrassing, like when you’re about to turn on someone and be upset for them unclipping your bra when you told them not to but your eyes have caught sight of magical fluffy little frozen clumps of white falling from the sky, so instead your lips blossom into a smile and the smallest little happy voice spills forth with, “Ooooooh…” and you forget to dish out what’s coming to them until it’s way too late and rather pointless anyway.

Blixa Bargeld, lead singer of the German industrial band Einstürzende Neubauten, does commercials for Hornbach, a home improvement superstore. Here they are: Mosquito killer, Paving stones, a Power Drill, and Paint.

Brian collected me from work Saturday like an exhausted figurine. After dinner, I crumpled in the car on the way to a birthday party, a tired pile of black fishnets, velvet, and feathers, the air escaping my deflation taking the shape of an hour’s worth of clarifying how sick I am of me and mine meaning more to me than I do to them. He’s very good for me to talk with, he’s too soothing to get bitter at. Always he drowns me in affection. After the first unsteady hour, where my independence wants to lash out and kill him, I begin to relax. The next little while, all my carefully locked away pains want to leak out, but that too goes away. They grow tired of fighting with me and go back to hide again where I’ve put them to stay. It’s a trick I’ve learned to have. Hurray for trained repression. One day I should count how many people there are who are allowed to embrace me, allowed to find out what I’m really saying inside my head. I suspect the figure could be counted on one hand.

TUESDAY, (not tonight, my mistake, verysorry hope this catches you in time, etc), at 9:30, there’s will be a group of us at Tinseltown go seeing what they’ve done to Aeon Flux. You should take part, yes yes. Strengthen our community through entanglement of social possibility

Thank you to the lovely people who came over last night after Graham and I cleaned up. Andrew, Nick, Ian and Ethan – your dishes are a sweet testament to your arrival. I’m sorry I fell asleep during disc three of Aeon Flux. It’s been so long seeing some of them that I’m not even sure which episodes I missed. I don’t even know what time I fell asleep, the only time I looked at the clock was at six:thirty when I noticed it was light out and the ferret needed into the hall.

This is for Ray:


“Doomed love! Pharmacology! Futility! Insane machines!
Unholy creatures! Dismemberment! Infection! Body modification!”
The Not-So-Secret History of ‘Aeon Flux’

Today is my last day at work.

my sweet damaged heart


michael thompson
Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.


Lithium Picnic, my desktop.

Escape is four. Walls, edges, connect three and the angles are wrong. Four is compatible with fire. Two places to hold you, for you to hold me. Four. Boundaries make up all the most beautiful things hemming in this screen. // When they speak to you in whispers. It feels so right, but you’re not in the story. Voice falls quiet from fear. // Hush now, cradles rock, it’s picking a fight. I can’t change this. The farther in I see, the less I understand about how I’m pulling. Noticing little things. This is a refuge. I’m not wrong, I’m on this list. I recognize the objects that feel the same from partner to partner. This is where we come to write, all of us, music or language or pieces of memory. Eighteen inches from the computer, everything we need. All our pills. All our letters encased in plastic chunks of communication. We’re so human. It hurts me when I’m lucid. Damn lucky I’m not.

Tom Baker out-takes from recording a voiceover for a commercial. Many thank-you’s Warren.

If anyone has information for the few who missed being on this list, it would be appreciated.


entry
Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

Get-Together at my place tomorrow evening.

Because We Can and because James is Going Away To Parts Far Off.

Partial Roll call of Korean Movie Monday:

Christopher: kurrs, Flickr: Kurrs,
Patrick: Flickr: flybaby,
Ryan: Flickr: Ru’ian,
Sophie: elsabet Flickr: elsabet,
Jeanette: cantstoptharock
Tim: niko84, Flickr: nomoon,
Amanda: xxangelmeatxx, Flickr: seejackrun,
Karen: kickasskaren, Flickr: kickasskaren,
Tyler: legacyofty,
Dominique: bloodykitty, Flickr: bloodyninjakitty,
Reine: absinthe_sleep,
Angus: tao_of_quinton, Flickr: the dread pirate quinton
James: onik, Flickr: JamesEverett,
Andrew F: inri33, Flickr: cabbit,
Andrew G: frector,
Robin: givemesodapop,
Mike: kindelingboy,
Beth: algea_al_fresco, Flickr: stonelucifer,
Meghan: brunisols,
Andre: arrogant_gamer,
Ashley: aria_moonstar,
Peter: anarchocyclist, Flickr: doreinde.

(Angus, go to your flickr home, select MY ACCOUNT, and down in the right hand corner there will be an option to make yourself a page.)

Five hours sleep since friday morning. I wanted to steal some ephedrin but forgot.


san clemente
Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

Friday I was told a horrific story at a birthday party by a woman who’s using me as the main feature in her thesis on the Death Of Culture about having a fisting accident where he punched into her uterus and was caught there by her shocked body for thirty-five awkward minutes. Added bonus, apparently she has three ovaries because in the womb she absorbed a twin. He hit one.

Our weather has been restless, torrential bi-polar syndromes daily, swinging back and forth between rain and thirty degrees in the shade. The only reason I know it’s summer has been the time the sun goes down. There’s light in the sky at nine o’clock at night. Today, however, there was sun. Hard shearing light, painful on the eyes when it reflected off the ocean. Dominique and Amanda and I went to Wreck Beach, the nudist beach, where I found Brian and let him curl up to me like a cat, like a little child, thirty years older than me, but four feet tall. All of the sudden, he reminded me of Chris. They’re skinny thin in the same ways, like the bones have been hung primarily to show off something pretty.

Quickie Culture Night on Saturday went well, I think. It bled well into Sunday morning and I suspect that everyone present saw something new. James showed me a piece of film that left me without speech or coherent thought. I was hideously impressed. Prey Alone, it was called, and it was serrated green filter chocolate sex wrapped with an enviable plot, even better than the startlingly brilliant BMW films. Though, I must say, those were a damned treat. The one with James Brown blistered my eyes with how clever it was. You should come to our next one. I don’t care who you are or what city. If it’s possible to do, I would like to find a way to host our itinerary for people who live too far away or in inaccessible countries.

Saturday is Quickie Culture Night

The plan is: A display of short visual pieces found or created by everybody. This means music videos, short films, weird art things, motion graphics, a short scene from a full length film etc. Not imposing hard time limits or anything, just use your best judgment.

There will be a projector with which to put things on the wall and the hardware to feed it anything in digital or DVD form. If it’s VHS you’ll need to bring a player with you (there’s plenty of cables though), find someone who can, or tell us in advance and we’ll try to dig one up. Drop James a line at jameseverett(at)gmail.com to let him know if you’re coming and if you’re bringing more people with you. This is just so we have a rough idea of how many bodies to expect and can provide the complete address.

Downtown at Davie & Jervis, starting around 9pm this Saturday, July 16th.

Also, there’s talk of watching a Night With Kevin Smith tonight at my place. Go bother Andrew for details. I’m assuming it’s an early-ish start, around seven.

bring out yer dead

Just in time to go with that previous post on Zombies, Vancouver is about to join the fun!

Get out the oatmeal and liquid latex, ’cause the day of reckoning is nigh!

That’s right! Zombiewalk Vancouver 2005! . . .!

Tentatively Saturday August 27, 3pm
Starting from “somewhere horribly frightening” a horde of living dead will stumble en masse towards Mountain View Cemetery on Fraser St.

The zombie walk will end with a picnic in the graveyard – bring your friends and family and eat them in the park!

There is possibility of a post-apocalypse zombie-jamboree hoe-down to follow.
If you have the inclination to do so, please let me know of your zombie wants, needs, desires and offerings – contributions of ideas, zombie related music/films/performance (preferably from the brains of participating zombies), food (scavenged, hunted, incubated or otherwise), your presence (zombies are only really effective when gathered in
large groups. everyone knows that), general good will, etc.

Pass this on to anyone else you know who might be interested.

More engaging imagery + useful information to follow.

aarrgh,
heather

further reading:
http://www.weeklyworldnews.com/features/politics/61270
http://www.weeklyworldnews.com/features/politics/58975

As well, the Media-splat night has been planned. Friday, July 22nd, 8:30 pm. Bring a short bit of visual media, something you really like, may it be a commercial or a music video of a scene from a film. Whatever. Drop me a line for directions.

It’s as if I have a disease and instead of my cells, it’s eating my personality.

I’m being paid to be a lesbian today. This sounds like I answered the sort of advert that lurks blank faced in the back of the newspaper, but the sky outside is dull dirty gray and repels my usual humour. Instead, as I wake, it reminds me of my tumbling stomach and the basic human need for food. I want to go tear out the throat of a rabbit and drink its life like an angsty neo-sapien. That I’m going to be paid to hit on girls in front of a camera isn’t really impacting. My hair is 80’s rock star huge and I’m trying to care enough to debate make-up. Which begs my asking if I even have any that’s appropriate. It’s unlikely. There’s tiny spots of blood crusted in my hair, which tell me I was wounded at some random point last night, there must be a cut somewhere, the company I was expecting for part way has abandoned me, I suspect that as an adult, I should get used to hit and run, and I’ve yet to have a proper meal in two days. Brush this off, however, I’m sure. I’m merely having a bad morning.

self reminder: bring SIN card to the set. If I forget, there might be problems.

I have that crippling fear of If I Leave the House Today I Will End Up in The Wrong Place. It’s vague, but it’s faintly irritating me. I’m going to blame emotional instability. It’s rare but when it hits, oh my stars and garters, does it pull deep. “The scary thing about you is that you mean to do all you’re doing.” I’m still not doing well. The brain is loathing all that hurt piling up. My heart isn’t as sturdy as I’m good at making it be. The damned world has been throwing me bones with splinters in. I don’t ask for anything fair, I ask there to be balance and redress. I ask that we try some before we refuse to buy on the basis of cold winter nights. It’s been a month since I was kept up at night by anyone interesting, I’m obviously failing at being young again. The youngest centennial, that isn’t me. I sit on the curb after getting out of the cab and speak words alone into warm early morning. Why is there nobody here? I’m always coming back to this box, but it’s not like there’s ever been anyone here.

a robot film, short
a robot film, dannybo(y/t)
a robot contest for the most impressive looking laser-wielding, earth destroying robot
a picture of a robot

Also, a partial explanation as to why Nicholas was continually declaiming Exeunt! on his Vancouver visit.