May is a month of sensuality, a month in which we schlepp around ideally hot, sunny streets in the year's first flip flops (scrubbed of last summer's dust), casually displaying our slightly neglected winter bodies. Later in the summer we'll have tans, and grow accustomed to the tans of others, and be much more casually embodied.
But for now there's still a glancing winter whiteness to our bodies -- they've been hidden from the ultraviolet rays for so long. There's a seasonal self-consciousness and a prurient curiosity to our interest in the newly-revealed flesh of others. Girls have bare legs, and sit on the ground cross-legged showing the tops of their panties over the hem of their trousers. Boys sport a visible mokori bulge. Breasts are suddenly massively -- or slightly -- present. Bums are wrapped in saris or hidden in a salwar kameez.
So this is my truth, show me yours. I am wearing a straw hat, chest-revealing shirt, wristbands to match my pink eyepatch, cheap sports pants and flip flops. I am remembering, and connected to, summers past. How are you dressed this season? How are you celebrating the relaxed, stripped-down sensuality of "the May" -- and the return to public scrutiny of your body, cocooned all winter in layers of fibre?
"We are not having a conventional funeral, but a celebration of his life and would welcome all of Pat's friends to join us on Saturday the 17th at the Monte Sano park picnic area here in Huntsville, Alabama beginning at 4:00 pm. If you need directions, please call 256-881-7028. And please share this info with all you think would like to share this day with us."
on the dót widget there is a new short clip called “assault and battery” filmed on the 2nd of may as the band were wrapping up the recording of their next album.
the video shows some behind the scenes snippets from the artwork process aswell as a few short snippets from the final mixing of the album.
a previously unseen clip from the “heima” tour is now available on sigurros.com. its of “e bow” in djúpavík in iceland on july the 27th 2006 and is available when you sign up for the sigurros.com mailing list.
I spotted these posters -- a campaign entitled "Make yourself an agent of BRAND AMERICA" -- on the mushroom-shaped billboard at the Maybachufer market near my house in Neukolln.
The posters purport to be cultural tips for Americans visiting other countries. I haven't seen them anywhere else, and I can't find any reference to them on the web. I guess they're an art project of some sort.
CELEBRATE THE IDEA 'AMERICA'. Americans have specialized in selling dreams, fears, and folklore of other people back to them. So bring back the best of the world and leave a little of the best of yourself wherever you go.
THINK BIG. ACT SMALL. BE HUMBLE. When Americans meet each other for the first time, our job and implied status is a key part of "who" we are, and how we introduce ourselves. This is less important elsewhere. Disguise your immediate business affiliations. While thinking big, act small. Be humble.
TRY THE LANGUAGE. Try to speak some of the language. It's easier than you think and ok to sound like a child. "Hallo" means "hello" and "Danke" "thank you".
i sort of wished i did this all nine years of coachella but i got more than half of them at least. and i guess livejournal wasn't around when coachella first started... but yes... in my own yearly formatting tradition of 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007 it's time for recap: coachella 2008... hi.
yes, where do we begin? this was my esther's first full coachella. she's only gone once before for one day thanks to the giant drags and she liked it then; but she had to get in a car all the way back home that night so tiring i assume! this time we took 3 days off each and took our merry time of it. dennis, esther and i drove up thursday afternoon and lounged by the pool all day. oh yes, waterslide and all that goodness. then that night we got some random italian food and off to the infamous filter party. yes, the one, um, last, year, um, D&D got the shaft! this year, once again, the party was all kinds of fun dancing around in circles and balkin' at the long lines for schwag... and then after we were in line and stuff, tren way's dak, stephanie, esther and i got in a brawl with these four big cholos from san diego. ask us about it sometime! but yeah sadly d&s broke/lost their glasses and they had to go back to LA to be able to see. esther was the hero and drove them there but dennis drove back. i don't think he slept at all that night, right? aw.
friday - woke up eventually and got a mexican lunch - used our closed road madison route - the breeders were, um, kind of off key or something? - tegan and sara were totally on and totally cute as usual. right when i thought they would go through a set without one of their rants right on cue they talked about sunscreen and needing sunscreen under H&M clothes or something? aww they're cute. - the national were all kinds of epic goodness and i can't wait to see them again slightly more proper at the REMMMNAT'L show. - aphex twin actually showed up and played random randomness for the masses to randomly dance to... or something close to dancing. was enjoyable though. - i've never seen the verve but they played a good set of hits and new songs. i wanted to hear 'on your own' real bad but they still sounded good and played enough of the songs i wanted. - fat boy slim was good but either i need to be more familiar with his body of work or he needs to work with his hits more. still i danced! yoah! - i drove home like i ended up doing every night. the parking lots were very random day to day and either we'd get out super fast or very slow. this night very slow.
saturday - ummm... slow to wake up... we got some am/pm? yum. - we caught a bit of MGMT but sightlines and packt-ness deterred our full enjoyment. - we left early and caught boys noize!!! yoaah! best dancing of the whole weekend despite being daytime! i hope he comes around soon so E and I can dance some more. danse danse danse! UH! - stephen malkmus and the dirty jicks were good and i swear those jam session songs are good live but not as great on record. i wanted to hear a random pavement song... but none. i hope pavement plays next year!!! but most likely they'll come around in 2010. - death cab for cutie were solid like a heavy poop. good feeling on your body but it happens pretty regularly. - kraftwerk from close up was awesome. they played their relative hits and it was a lot better than last time where i just sat down and saw them from the side. their cover of coldplay's clocks was awesome!!! --- ha! - portishead were amazing. beth's voice was sooo on and soooo good. yes please. wika wika wow! i don't even know what to say other than 'amazing' to be honest. - prince was unstoppable. he covered creep without the self loathing and no one would ever call him out on it. just awesome. come together. yeah. and he ended at like 1am!? haha. - we got out fast... - we got some del taco on the way home and these two dudes that could have been bill and ted looked at each other and said, "taco sauce", or something. it was weird but terribly funny. - ...and fell asleep even faster.
sunday - we all lazed around waking up LATE and missing a couple things i wanted to see. oh well. - metric was our first full act and emily was energenic and fun as usual. - a-trak was jamming on the turntables with a healthy fill of kanye but i was lost on kid sister who failed to impress me at all. - love and rockets were fucking awesome!!! i loved the set and they sounded really good up there. they seemed to have a genuinely good time about it. i kinda wish they would maybe tour more or heck write some new stuff... ha! - roger waters was epic. the dark side of the moon stuff sounded great. the pig was amazing and went up forever it seemed. pink floyd needs to reunite! but close enough! they have a pyramid too! - justice were good again but seemed slightly off with their timing this time. too much randomness i think. they should play their songs a bit more. the coming of an epic beat and being able to jump up with your fist all on cue is fun! - and that was it.
tina and stephanie left pretty much right away on monday to see their rents. dennis, esther and i just did the lounge by the pool thing ALL DAY with mexican food after. SO GOOD. you definitely need buffer days to enjoy coachella. when you're all tired and rushed it really messes you up i'd say. but yeah fun times once again. next year is the 10 year anniversary and i'll assume they will make you KNOW IT. i'll make a note to wake up earlier so i can se more acts that's for sure. i hope esther had a lot of fun!!! she was the best festival partner! she bought me lots of food. yum! but in any case see you next year coachella!
Considering the fact that my beautiful wife was in NYC all day yesterday and is in dance class and rehearsals most of today, it's been a pretty outstanding weekend. After my Borders shift yesterday, I met with Scott and we tooled around the North End, eating takeout fried calamari from The Daily Catch (you haven't been there? What do you mean, you haven't been there? Get there), followed by a sugar and caffeine extravaganza at Caffe Paradiso.
Scott insisted I join him for some used DVD shopping in Downtown Crossing. "CD Spins?" I wondered aloud. Impossible, I thought. They've been closed for months.
Actually, the place Scott was referring to is on Winter Street (just a couple of stores from the old CD Spins location) and on the surface, it appears to be yet another one of those ubiquitous videogame/cellphone stores. However, the basement level contains a zillion used DVDs (and a modest selection of used CDs). We spent the better part of an hour there. I resisted the urge to go hog wild on purchases while Scott showed uncharacteristic restraint, just getting a copy of Brainstorm.
I spent last night in Somerville, at a barbecue hosted by Patrick and his roommates. An uproarious time was had by all. Lots of the Borders clan past and present, including a surprise appearance by Jess G, who I unfortunately hardly ever see anymore.
This afternoon Scott met me in Dorchester and he bought me lunch at the Harp & Bard, followed by a viewing of Brainstorm at my place. As he was leaving, Scott asked if he could borrow some DVDs.
I gave him The Look, which said I'm younger than you and also have more intact brain cells. I know what I'm talking about.
After a minute, a flash of recognition hit Scott's face and he put his head in his hands. "Oh no."
I turns out he put those two movies in a stack that he returned to Blockbuster. I resisted the urge to call him a douchebag since it's a fairly honest mistake. But still...what a douchebag.
I'd never heard of Daniil Kharms, the Leningrad microliterary absurdist and corpse-faced poseur -- he always dressed like an English dandy with a calabash pipe -- before reading Tony Wood's interesting article about him in the current London Review of Books.
He was a follower of the original generation of Soviet formalists, and was persecuted by the Stalinists for his refusal to knuckle down to the kitschy heroic styles with which they displaced and replaced this formalism. Kharms (who named himself after Sherlock Holmes, or perhaps "charms") made some headway as a children's author, but died in a prison hospital during World War II. What I mostly love about his short, silly and hilariously pointless stories is the sense of a childlike glee in breaking the rules, and an obvious relish in the crazy things a single sentence can do. Some of the techniques on display in his stories are things I do in The Book of Jokes. Although they can get Pythonesque in their silliness, they also give glimpses of Russian life in the 20th century.
Anyway, today I thought I'd just lay out some of the short (very short) stories I've found by Kharms in various places on the web.
The Redheaded Man (from The Blue Notebook) There lived a redheaded man who had no eyes or ears. He didn’t have hair either, so he was called a redhead arbitrarily. He couldn’t talk because he had no mouth. He had no nose either. He didn’t even have arms or legs. He had no stomach, he had no back, he had no spine, and he had no innards at all. He didn’t have anything. So we don’t even know who we’re talking about. It’s better that we don’t talk about him any more.
Falling Old Ladies Because of her excessive curiosity, an old lady fell out of the window and smashed into the ground. Another old lady looked out of the window, staring down at the one who was smashed, but out of her excessive curiosity she also fell out of the window and smashed into the ground. Then the third old lady fell out of the window, then the fourth did, then the fifth. When the sixth old lady fell out of the window, I got bored watching them and went to Maltsev market where, they say, someone gave a woven shawl to a blind person.
Anecdotes from the life of Pushkin (number 7) Pushkin had four sons and they were all idiots. One of them couldn't even sit on his chair and kept falling off. Pushkin himself was not very good at sitting on his chair either, to be honest. It used to be quite hilarious: they'd be sitting at the table, at one end Pushkin would keep falling off his chair, and at the other end, his son. One wouldn't know where to look.
Symphony no. 2 Anton Mikhailovich spat, said "yuck", spat again, said "yuck" again, spat again, said "yuck" again and left. To hell with him. Instead, let me tell you about Ilya Pavlovich. Ilya Pavlovich was born in 1893 in Constantinople. When he was still a boy, they moved to St. Petersburg, and there he graduated from the German School on Kirchnaya Street. Then he worked in some shop; then he did something else; and when the revolution began, he emigrated. Well, to hell with him. Instead, let me tell about Anna Ignatievna. But it is not so easy to tell about Anna Ignatievna. Firstly, I know almost nothing about her, and secondly, I have just fallen off my chair, and have forgotten what I was about to say. So let me instead tell you about myself. I am tall, fairly intelligent; I dress prudently and tastefully; I don't drink, I don't bet on horses, but I like ladies. And ladies don't mind me. They like when I go out with them. Serafima Izmaylovna has invited me home several times, and Zinaida Yakovlevna also said that she was always glad to see me. But I was involved in a funny incident with Marina Petrovna, which I would like to recount. A quite ordinary thing, but rather amusing. Because of me, Marina Petrovna lost all her hair -- grew bald as a baby's bottom. It happened like this. Once I went over to visit Marina Petrovna, and -- bang! -- she lost all her hair. And that was that.
An Encounter On one occasion a man went off to work and on the way he met another man who, having bought a loaf of Polish bread, was on his way home. And that's just about all there is to it.
Caledonia Dreaming, the recent BBC documentary about Postcard Records, is now online in its entirety. Right from the start, it's as infuriating as it is intriguing. "And now on BBC Scotland we celebrate the ups and downs of one of Scotland's most iconic record labels," says the continuity announcer, "Postcards". It's so iconic that the man has never heard of it, apparently. The woman doing the documentary voice-over doesn't sound much better. Luckily, though, my cousin Justin appears within a few seconds to tell us that the A&R men coming up to Scotland in the early 80s were cocaine-snorting, vodka-swilling wankers. Now there's someone who knows what's he's talking about!
The framing of Caledonia Dreaming is wonky. First there's that title, which of course refers to California Dreaming, and ignores one of the key points about Josef K, for me anyway: their Euro-centrism. Secondly, it's assumed that Postcard was all about the city of Glasgow; Edinburgh's music scene is hardly mentioned at all. Thirdly, all that happened before Postcard is summed up with a couple of stock shots of Rod Stewart (not a Scot) and the Bay City Rollers. No mention here of the Incredible String Band, Donovan, or other acts from the 60s and 70s who had already put Scotland on the pop map.
Even in the post-Postcard sections of the doc, there are curious omissions. There's lots about Wet Wet Wet and The Proclaimers, but no mention at all of the Jesus and Mary Chain and Primal Scream. There's also an odd emphasis on commercial success or failure; this is a documentary about Postcard, after all, which had zero success. Yet Altered Images (who weren't on Postcard) get more screentime than Josef K, who were. Aztec Camera get about two seconds in the whole programme, and the Go-Betweens aren't mentioned at all. Quite a lot is made of Franz Ferdinand's re-discovery of the early 80s sound, but the Fire Engines, who toured with FF and influenced their sound a lot more than Orange Juice, don't get a single reference. And John Peel, an important influence, wasn't spoken of at all.
There's far too much emphasis on the Blue-Eyed Caledonian Soul period of the mid-80s (Wet Wet Wet, Hue and Cry, Deacon Blue, Texas and, dare I say it, Del Amitri); music which, though it may have shifted mega-billions of units in its time, isn't musically innovative enough to inspire anyone in the future, and, as Paul Morley rightly says, represents the major music industry reasserting its control and reining in the very maverick talents whose creativity brought them on flights north in the first place. As my cousin Justin (a great interviewee and narrator) puts it: "They were absolute wankers, these guys. They didn't know anything about music. They didn't care about music. They only cared about getting paid a hundred grand a year."
I had an odd feeling, watching the film. For a start, I've met so many of the people interviewed, despite not having lived in Scotland since 1984. It was great to see the young, beautiful, camp Edwyn Collins smirking on a sofa and talking about how the major labels could come to Glasgow "and bring the coals to Newcastle and the fish from the fire". It was interesting to catch one solitary glimpse, in Part 2, of what Paul Haig looks like now (slightly mad-eyed behind dark glasses, and complaining that Alan Horne merely tolerated his band).
Although I did get glimpses of the scene that birthed my own music career, it was through the depressingly revisionist lens of mainstream TV which, as the Reid Brothers would put it, will "never understand, huh huh huh". They'll never understand what exquisite mysterious pleasure there was to be had from the Josef K album in 1981, what a secret rush of amphetamines and darkness it contained, how it turned away from America and towards Brussels and Prague, how it transformed Edinburgh into an Eastern European town, how it channelled Camus, how it fitted with the Citizens' Theatre's Genet season.
That'll all have to wait for my own autobiography (not that I'm promising one, mind), as will any account of my own part in Scotland's music scene, a shifty and peripheral and commercially-insignificant role, to be sure, but, in that sense, not much different from Postcard's. One thing I'm happy about is that I've never had a golden age, a hit, an anchor. I'm not pinned to any of the three decades this documentary covered, just as I'm not pinned, ultimately, to the geographical location of Scotland.
I'm making a record right now with a Scot, Joe Howe from Gay Against You. The track I finished minutes before watching the Postcard documentary takes a sketch Joe had made, a 180bpm 8-bit baroque fantasia, and marries it to the urgent existentialist spiky sparkery of Magazine's third album.
Is it a "Scottish" song? In some way it is; we're both Scots. It also spans the exact period Caledonia Dreaming covers; I started in the Postcard era, very much because of Postcard, and Joe wasn't even born when the label disappeared. The new song audibly contains both 1980 and 2008. But I think it's fair to say that this is a song nobody from television will ever hear or understand. And maybe that's no' such a bad thing, hen.
found in a photo album at the sonoma county dumps, i got so excited when i saw these in the front, imagining an album chronicling the downward spiral of a young man's life into the world of northern california biker gangs, maybe a cameo of hunter s thompson getting beat up in cloverdale. surely, the photos would show this mans beard getting longer, beer belly getting larger, bandanas getting dirtier. the photo styles would change, they'd start off with these black and white pictures and shift towards 127 square format color, 35mm photos on matte paper, and cheesy 110 pictures with rounded corners, maybe some newspaper clippings about meth busts.
i didn't open the album while i was there, i saved the surprise for the car ride home.
we have added more “heima” screenings to the long list. screenings in australia, england and the netherlands over the next few months have been added and you can get more information here.
I love the 1979 film Rockers, which I first saw -- and watched on repeat loop -- in a wooden house in Hokkaido three years ago, buried under several feet of snow. It was the perfect antidote to the Japanese winter, and yet, at the same time, the perfect complement to it: in a weird style-swap, many of the sartorial modes you see in this movie are preserved in Japan much better than they are in today's Jamaica. Watching the movie, I kept seeing "Japanese" faces (look, there's Eye Yamataka!), and imagining the record shacks where Horsemouth flogs his dub plates were in Shimokitazawa or Koenji.
Under the cut I've put a big strip of freeze-frame pictures from Rockers, which shows more cool dandies -- Adidas-clad ectomorph gousters, many of them reggae musicians in real life -- than any other film I know. But you really have to see the film to get the full effect, because you need the music, and you need to watch the way these guys (and they are mostly guys) walk. Like wounded tom cats or swaggery, staggery lions of Judah with ludicrous, loose-limbed ganja gait. Oh, to walk -- and dress -- like that!
On a promo for the new season of "American Gladiators" Hulk Fucking Hogan used the Road Warriors' (or the Legion of Doom if you roll that way, it's okay) catch phrase.
Can he do that?
I mean, obviously he can, but I guess I should ask "should he do that?"
I hereby declare as a representative of the organization that decides on these kinds of things that as of 8:49 PM on May 8th, 2008, ANY AND ALL references to someone being excited/angry/manic etc. and how s/he "should have had the decaf" or "switch to decaf" or any other reference that the first person's manic state is due solely to the ingestion of caffeine are NO LONGER FUNNY, CLEVER, INTERESTING OR EVEN GOOD.
That is all.
I fully expect the first comment posted to be "Someone needs to switch to decaf", so go right ahead...
I need help.. Or the confirmation that the game is over. I'm on Task 28 and it's at 51%.. No more Ron and Hermione to guide me. I already completed the Voldemort scene which is the end of the story but is that really the end of the game? What is the other 49%?!
My friend and I went dumpster diving (not literally diving, we didn't get inside) and we found a few pretty cool things. Last year our friend found $75 worth of textbooks in the dumpsters so we were hopeful.
Anyway, this is Part one.
In this part are the first photos on the roll of film. It is a cd from a fuji camera and contains 5 rolls of film on one CD. The family goes to Hawaii for a wedding. There were nearly 100 pictures so I have just chosen what I thought were the best ones.
I didn't buy Momofuku, but I did listen to it in its entirety Tuesday night at Borders. It didn't blow me away, but it does contain several good songs. I previously compared it to The Delivery Man, and I stand by that comparison, except for the fact that TDM is generally better.
Speaking of music, allow me to recommend a wonderful blog: Here Comes The Flood. I found out about it because it's linked from Kill Ugly Radio, still the best Zappa-related site on the internets, if you want my opinion. What attracts me to HCTF is the fact that it covers a wide variety of music without that nasty obsession with hipsterism that that infests some sites.
I saw this in the supermarket last week and it creeped me the hell out:
Big Love still rocks. We're almost done with season one.
Today's my father's birthday. Dad, if you're reading this, I'm calling you this afternoon. Unplug your fax machine.
Some of you may remember the series of Traci photos that were found in Huntington Beach. Many were curious what become of Traci and why she and her photos were separated.
I was contacted by her awhile back and she wants everyone to know that she is alive and well and appreciates all the comments. We've been in contact and she'll get all her photos back soon.
My boyfriend bought me CrossworDS last night. I absolutely love it and I have a *really* hard time putting it down once I get started. If you like crossword puzzles, anagrams, and word searches, this is the game for you. Did I mention I love it?
for a little sneak peak into the bands recording process go here and view a short movie as the band begin to wrap up the mastering of their forthcoming album.
I had a meeting last week at Sternberg, who'll publish my Book of Scotlands in 2009 (just in time to inject a little insanity into the lead-up to Scotland's likely 2010 independence referendum). Present were series editor Ingo Niermann, graphic designer Zak Kyes, and Caroline Schneider, the publisher. Zak was showing them designs for jackets and posters for the Solutions series.
What immediately struck me was the wrongness of Zak's designs. They were brutally stark, geometric, angular, functional, utilitarian. Looking at a dark poster of the floating eye pyramid from a dollar bill with an inverted triangle superimposed over it, I asked Ingo playfully "If this were a poster for a band playing tonight in Kreuzberg, what would the music sound like?" Ingo hesitated then said "I suppose it would be a Goth band of some sort. Or some kind of weird early 80s death metal."
Now, this is going to get us into all sorts of self-contradictory circles, but when I say Zak's designs looked wrong, I mean they really looked right. I'm not sure if his work is part of The New Ugly we've talked about here in the context of Mike Meiré, but I do think it's got the same kind of energy -- and I stress that word energy, because it's a dynamic quality, a sort of beauty-on-the-move rather than beauty-in-stasis.
Above all, Zak's work isn't coffeetable. The rough design I made when I pitched the book was a "coffeetable" design. It used a funky fat typeface, simple shapes and pretty colours to communicate the idea. Most good design is coffeetable design -- the other day, for instance, we looked at sleeves for records by The Chap (shown above), designed by Non Format. Immediately easy on the eye (another term for coffeetable might be "Easy Looking", a kind of visual version of Lounge), these sleeves, like my Scotlands jacket, aren't bad design -- they might even be good design -- but they don't go the extra length. They don't distinguish themselves. By failing to take a step ahead, they fall, inevitably, a step behind. By failing to risk wrongness they become, themselves, wrong.
This is where we have to talk about Distinction Strategies. A really good designer doesn't just want to work within established paradigms of accepted good taste. He wants to change those paradigms, making something truly distinctive-looking as well as distinguishing himself professionally. Now, you can't do this without plunging people, at least momentarily, into crisis and confusion. You can't do it without making work that looks, in some way, wrong. So my sense last week that Zak's work looked "wrong" was a sign, paradoxically, that he was doing something right. My rough sleeve instantly looked fey, dated, smooth.
Looking at the shelves at Sternberg, it was possible to see a corner being turned as Zak's work for them started to appear. Stuff which looked good in a coffeetable way suddenly started to be supplemented by stuff that looked noticeably different, odd, intriguing, wrong. I could see a battle of legitimation happening there on the shelves. The new look -- rather brutal and ugly, but full of the energy and strangeness of the new -- was starting to assert its wrongness as a new form of rightness. It was doing this by breaking the rules (which of course, in another paradox, is a rule in itself) and embracing the forbidden.
Distinction strategies cannot work successfully (in other words, can't do anything more than make you look like an amateur, a madman or an eccentric) unless they go hand in hand with legitimation, and Zak has that in spades, which is another reason he's so interesting. He's visual director at London's Architectural Association, one of Britain's few institutions wholly committed to the idea of the avant garde ("avant garde institution" is, of course, yet another paradox). He's also curator of the touring critical design show Forms of Inquiry, an important and influential exhibition dedicated to shifting the graphic design paradigm.
Without critical design, without this restless process of legitimation-distinction (and I'm invoking Max Weber and Pierre Bourdieu when I use those words), we'd be stuck in a wilting coffeetable world. It wouldn't really be such a bad world -- we'd have pretty colours and catchy shapes that we'd recognise instantly, the way we recognise the chords and arrangements in an Oasis song, the way it sounds familiar even on the first listen. But, like the creative world of Oasis, it would be a limited and lazy world.
I'm making a new album just now, and I'm making sure it sounds "wrong". In other words, that it has the energy of strangeness rather than the comfort of familiarity. I don't know if it's "progress" to keep ripping up rules and habits, but it's change, and that's good enough for me. Sure, we sometimes come full circle and re-invent Goth. Sure, we're brushing up against the 19th century Romantic idea of the artist as madman and the 20th century Modernist idea of the artist as scientist-innovator. And here we are in the 21st century, with the idea of the graphic designer as distinction-legitimation machine, forever teetering on the brink of the forbidden and the forgotten, forever struggling to recuperate, redeem and recontextualize. It's what makes the game, for me, worth playing.
While procrastinating on sending my DS and Wii in for repair, I noticed a new channel for the Wii. It's called the Nintendo Channel. You can see videos of different Wii and DS games and it will tailor things to your particular gaming preferences. WELL. It also comes with a DS demo download thing! Like how they have in the Game Stops and whatnot. I demoed Disney Friends to see if it worked. It was pretty neat. If you have a Wii, I recommend trying it out.
confused
May is a month of sensuality, a month in which we schlepp around ideally hot, sunny streets in the year's first flip flops (scrubbed of last summer's dust), casually displaying our slightly neglected winter bodies. Later in the summer we'll have tans, and grow accustomed to the tans of others, and be much more casually embodied.
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