Tag: yes

with a warm, profound affection

CONGRATULATIONS KYLE AND JENNIFER!!

Kyle is one of the people in my life who has influenced me the most in the past year, encouraging me, picking up when I’ve fallen, and always inspiring me with his brilliant, infectious good nature, continually reminding me that the world is not always a fight, that to strive can be to succeed, and that sometimes everything really is all going to be alright. I’ve only met him once in person, (though it’s in the game plan to do so again, and again, and as many times as I can), when he and Jennifer were in Seattle for a wedding, and it felt like a gift to be with them, not only to finally visit, but to witness their incredible and utter devotion, one of the most perfect things I have ever been blessed to see. They are beautiful together, enchantment multiplied, and the light that shines off them is blinding. It is my great and fervent desire to one day be so happy and I will forever adore them for leading the way, showing what it possible, and thriving.

Congratulations you two, I wish you well and I love you, even from all the way over here.

I want to meet the sort of man who will go barefoot in a tuxedo.

www.wernerherzblog.com
“This is not Werner Herzog. This is his blog”

Writing is in backlog. Photos are in backlog. My time is my own, but my tools, they are failing. My computer was wiped clean and still isn’t working. I don’t even know where to start.

Flew into town this morning, head thick with the memory of dancing with Rafael and Tony in Seattle after That Mike’s Valentine’s show. Something about the motion, about the movement, reminded me, the weightless acceleration, the droning, continual prop plane hum. Despite the novelty of being in the air, (a day where I’ve been flying never feels quite real), I curled up against Will and napped for part of the trip, bag in the back, camera tucked against my belly, my hands warm against his side. Cracking my eyes open to look down at the water and islands smoothly running past below me, I felt safe. I felt safe and protected and alright. Everything in my head, no matter what it was, was alright.

Last weekend, in Whistler, was much the same. Waking up on the couch after after three hours of sleep to Dragos on the porch, knocking at the top of a champagne bottle with a samurai sword, attempting to slice through the glass so he could make properly extravagant mimosa, that also felt like home. The sheer absurdity that no one questioned, like flying, was an every day miracle that we all passed through, as comforting as curling up exhausted and wrung out, but not dry. It was exactly the sort of pretty thing I needed. It is important to have perspective, to realize and deeply understand that our lives are all minuscule grains of sand, but it is equally essential to learn that there are always a million fascinating, beautiful things happening in every direction during every second, and that sometimes we are lucky enough to be part of them.

artpost: preparing for lift-off

Cory McAbee, fringe-music demigod, founder of The Billy Nayer Show, best friend of my last sweetie, That Mike, and director and creator of one of the most splendid films ever made, The American Astronaut, has finally directed a new movie with his mad and crazy band, Stingray Sam.

“A dangerous mission reunites STINGRAY SAM with his long lost accomplice, The Quasar Kid. Follow these two space-convicts as they earn their freedom in exchange for the rescue of a young girl who is being held captive by the genetically designed figurehead of a very wealthy planet. This musical space-western miniseries is designed for small screens and perfect for screens of all sizes. “

It’s not Werewolf Hunters of the Midwest, the next film he was ostensibly working on, but it looks to be just as weirdly captivating. For extra points, his sweetheart co-star in this kooky Cowboy Space Musical is his wee little daughter, it’s narrated by David Hyde Pierce, and rumour says it was filmed in only two weeks. I believe the proper response is Hell Yeah!!

found via Marc-Antony, popular purveyor of joy

artpost: people I will always appreciate

via karen meisner of strange horizons:

Tilda Swinton, from her second State of Cinema address, San Francisco, 2006:

Can I be alone in my longing for inarticulacy – for a cinema that refuses to join all the dots? For an a-rhythm in gesture, for a dissonance in shape? For the context of a cinematic frame, a frame that – in the end – only cinema can provide. For the full view, the long shot, the space between… the gaps… the pause… the lull… the grace of living…

The figurative cinema’s awkward and rather unsavoury relationship with its fruity old aunt, the theatre, to her vanities, her nous, her beautifully constructed and perennially eloquent speechifying, her cast iron – corset-like – structures, her melo-dramatic texture and her histrionic rhythms. How tiresome it is, it always has been. How studied. The idea of absolute articulacy, perfect timing, a vapid elegance of gesture, an unblinking, unthinking face. What a blessed waste of a good clear screen, a dark room and the possibility of an unwatched profile, a tree, a hill, a donkey…

How I long for documentary, in resistance – for unpowdered faces and unmeasured tread – for the emotionally undemonstrative family scene – for a struggle for unreachable words, for the open or even unhappy ending? The occasionally dropped shoe off the heel, the jiggle to readjust; the occasionally cracked egg; the mess of milk spilt. The concept of a loss for words. For a State of Cinema – as the state of grace that it affords us – in which nothing much happens but all things are possible, even inarticulacy, even failure, even mess…


tilda swinton painted by (her partner) john byrne

just another day on earth, but with SYD freaking MEAD.

From Vancouver ACM SIGGRAPH, VISUAL FUTURIST: The Life & Art of Syd Mead.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

“We are giddy with excitement. Why? Well, we’re turning 5 this May, and Syd Mead is coming to help us celebrate with a double feature – a presentation and Q&A with him, followed by a screening of Blade Runner: The Final Cut! Join us for the fun on May 14 at the Empire Theatre on Granville St. It has been years since Syd Mead, one of the most influential designers of our times, has been to Vancouver. He’ll be speaking about his approach to design and the visionary work with which he has made his indelible mark on popular culture and our perceptions of the future. But wait – there’s more! Our long-time supporter, Sophia Books, will be there with Syd’s latest DVD – you might even be able to get the man himself to sign a copy for you. On top of that, Tangible Interaction is coming back with their Zygotes – a massive interactive hands-on display of fun meeting technology that the whole crowd can take part in. Reserve your tickets now and don’t miss out on this huge event!”

“Syd Mead is a living legend amongst designers – he has been called a “visionary” and a “visual futurist”. From his beginnings in automotive design at Ford, Syd developed a style and philosophy that has spawned an enormous body of work filled with futuristic yet realistic creations. Syd’s work shaped the modern conception of the future with his designs for Blade Runner, Tron, Star Trek: The Motion Picture and Aliens. Films that forged a vision which still reverberates through the motion picture industry today. Few artists or designers have been as fortunate as to be involved with such a variety of industries around the world. Whether it be designs for vehicles, film, theme parks, interactive games, toys, products, theatre sets, ships, planes, or architecture, Syd has managed to leave his mark and provided his unique perspective each and every time. Today Syd lives and works in Southern California, where he continues to design, illustrate, speak and inspire. Mr. Mead will introduce the film.”

6:00 pm: Mixer
7:00 pm: Main Presentation
9:30 pm: Blade Runner: The Final Cut – FREE*
* Priority given to main presentation ticket holders

Members: $15 / Non-members: $25 / Groups (5+): $20 (online only)

Info and online registration:

I’m so tired of being the responsible one. The star in my heart wants to go out.

A. FOUR JOBS YOU’VE HAD IN YOUR LIFE (all previous jobs):
1. He sent me a letter
2. I met him dancing, I was sitting on the stairs
3. Brought to his theater, we had a friend in common
4. It was a new place and he was standing by the bar

B. FOUR MOVIES YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER:
1. When I replied, I laughed, he thought I would know him
2. He tapped me on the shoulder, acted like I knew him
3. I took him up on a roof, surprised he would not know it
4. We went home together, though we didn’t know each other

C. FOUR CITIES YOU’VE LIVED IN:
1. Smiling, we corresponded every day
2. I was stunned to discover he had a wife
3. Standing outside his window was so difficult and necessary
4. In the cab, his english was better than mine

D. FOUR TV SHOWS YOU LOVE TO WATCH:
1. There were happy pictures, and clever sounds, and fun videos.
2. I kissed him on the cheek and told him to ask permission first.
3. My lips were hungry and two years later, so were his
4. His apartment was neat, plants in the window, books in the glass table

E. FOUR PLACES YOU’VE BEEN ON VACATION:
1. I ran home through the park to meet him on-line
2. We held hands when we walked and strangers told us we looked good together
3. Curled up on the couch, slowly we curled into each other
4. I sat on the counter and he explained his red wine

F. FOUR WEBSITES YOU VISIT DAILY:
1. Description sufficed to make my bed less lonely
2. When I slept over, it was on his side of the bed, not hers
3. Queen size bed now and we still almost fell off
4. There was a wide mirror above the bed framed by two guitars

G. FOUR SONGS THAT MOVE YOU:
1. johnny boy – U are the generation who bought more shoes and u get what you deserve
2. lamb – gorecki
3. emilie simon – graine de etoile, lamb – gabriel
4. marvin gaye – let’s get it on

H. FOUR OF YOUR FAVORITE FOODS:
1. Then the letters came less frequently and I didn’t know why
2. Eventually I couldn’t deal with the fact he was married
3. He was so beautiful, but I knew he never loved me
4. The next morning wasn’t too late, but there was a phone-call

I. FOUR BOOKS YOU’VE READ & LOVED:
1. Hurt, I assumed that work was taking his time
2. Hurt, I broke down, dissolved, died.
3. Hurt, I tried to tell myself not to believe in illusions
4. Hurt, I explained to myself that it’s what I should have expected.

J. FOUR PLACES I’D RATHER BE RIGHT NOW:
1. Then I finally went for a surprise visit.
2. He divorced the wife, I took him back, he went away on a trip.
3. He never calls, so I walk over to his house at night.
4. Today he called me back, canceled our plans.

K. FOUR THINGS YOU FIND YOURSELF SAYING:
1. There was another woman.
2. There were two other women.
3. There might never be anyone.
4. There’s another woman in potentia.

L. FOUR FAVOURITE ALBUMS:
1. He never apologized.
2. I’m fragile too.
3. Living with little is better than nothing.
4. At least he’s sorry.

I’m going to dance on my own grave

Vogue, December '05

A ghost slid into bed this morning and placed a little kiss on my lips. He was cocaine pale like a stone and as smooth as if water tumbled. I frowned and turned my head, the dead are not welcome in my bed, but he was persistent. My body began to hold the smell of suicide, of unhappy older women trapped in elevators. A long way to hell, I thought. The distance between his chilly hands and the last button of my shirt. The dead are clever, they orbit the lonely like satellites. They are a constant undertow trying to drag dreams too deep, close enough for them to touch. They promise success, but deliver only the cold light of the television. And this one was trying to take off my shirt.

The other side of time, I might have let him. The static song of his seduction was soothing, calming as a technocratic lullabye. Instead I opened my eyes, reached out my hands, and tangled his wings with the wire and string of my hair. Ghosts are small, collections of mental bacteria built up over uninteresting lives. They are usually as romantic to the eye as a plain white t-shirt. Capturing them is only difficult if you believe in angels and I am too old now. All my bridges with mystery were burned a long time ago. Sitting up, I examined the glow I caught. His eyes were a building tumbling down, a video clip on constant repeat, surrounded by a halo of jasper. A city creature then, sailing his ship through history. I wonder if he regrets how he survives. The lives he must have crept into as a memory, the ambitions and aspirations he’d cruelly siphoned off paper hearts to live off. I swear they have intelligence. Some inbred understanding of language, built layer by layer as they accumulate.

Romance lasts little over a year, Italian scientists believe.

she is so pretty, so pretty, yes, like I remember, oh milk, they gave me milk, like pixies, a thousand names, pale like I am now, but to live, oh pretty, fire, flame, smoulder, a lamp dying, oh to touch, rain, blood, she burns, a spoken word, glimmering, pale like crystal, her skin, give me, please, her skin like milk

Kiss may have been fatal.

There are small silver scissors next to the bed. I take them and cut the ghost from my body. It’s still whispering, wrapped in my hair, waiting to wreck the party, but quieter now. I’m beginning to be awake enough to think. I lie back in the bed and watch the steel gray dawn coming in. Last night’s phonecall was me drunkenly walking a crooked line. I remember every word he said, how he’s busy lately, how the world is spinning too fast for a visit. His absence must have been broadcasting as loudly as teenagers flirting at a check-out counter for the ghost to have found me so recklessly easy. It’s either merciful or frightening to think that the slippery sound of my heart is so enticing. Maybe I should use some of those orange pills in the cupboard.

In the kitchen I find a jar the size of a fishbowl to put my new pet into. I spit into it and punch holes into the lid with a fishing knife before dropping him in with a crumpled page from one of my favourite books. The words reverberate and the paper begins to decay softly around him as he makes a little bed. Another happy ending ruined. The idea scrapes at the embers of my ruined evening and fuels my inner annoyance at how easily I push over. If I were a better person, I would stand up for myself, pound on the stubborn shore at the ugly sea that’s been drowning me. This is what I tell myself as I pour myself a glass of water. I pop the pills and notice the ghost is glowing brighter. Feeding him with my saliva was a good idea. Keeping him around will force me to resist the urge to burn this place down.

I should like tigers, not ponies.

A group of Social Elite out for a rousing spot of entertainment at The Banshee, Cedar Estates, Smegma-Upon-The-Rise, England

(L, Red) Sir Geoffrey Dupont-Beevers, OBE: A part-time druid and ex-Dundee callboy, Sir Dupont-Beevers received his OBE from Her Majesty in 1995 after successfully buggering a sasquatch. Now has plans to go in search of the Loch Ness monster with a specially outfitted rowboat. Much loved by the Welsh People.

(L, in Gray) Amorus Pye: American born and bred; educated at Eton, expelled for an unfortunate misunderstanding about the concept of ‘fagging.’ Now runs a highly successful chain of bordellos in Prague. Goes through fifteen polo ponies a month as a result of his rampant taste for virgin horseflesh. Thankfully Single.

(L, Back, Hiding) Adm. Gregory Japiro (retd): Achieved high honours in Her Majesty’s Navy of Sodomy; has retired from public service due to painful canker sores and burn marks on scrotum. Now spends his days hiding in bathing houses at Bexhill-Upon-Sea and groping eighty year old pensioners in striped bathing suits.

(Center, blonde hair, holding Mallet) Lord Ffredricton Ghastly-Finch: The only person in this group who is listed in DeBrett’s Peerage, Lord Ghastly-Finch is the current owner of the Banshee, Cedar Estates, and is the only person in the history of the United Kingdom to be expelled from a seating of the House of Lords for performing Unseemly Acts while the House was in session. Currently married to Lady Ghastly-Finch (nee Twatillary), Lord Ghastly-Finch has also been linked romantically with everybody else in the picture.

Lord Ghastly-Finch is seen here with his famous mallet, Gooley-Swatter. Normally kept under glass in Bath, the mallet is not in fact used for playing croquet, but rather is designed for Impacting against the Butler’s Testicles.

(Center, back, hiding, wearing spectacles) Lord Ghastly-Finch’s manservant, Armadillo. Amongst the many, various and depraved services that he performs for his lordship, Armadillo is charged with breaking up the pustules on his lordship’s buttocks with a small hammer every evening after dinner.

(right, black hat) Lady Ghastly-Finch: prior to marriage to his Lordship, Lady Ghastly-Finch was primarily known for eating an Australian opera singer. When interviewed by the press, she said that she found him fatty and unpleasant, and that in any case she didn’t think that she could finish a full one again. Her current project is said to involve hunting down, killing, and then smoking, Mick Jagger.

(right, red hair, fan): Ms. Serpentia Hackorypunk: in close competition with J. K. Rowling as Britain’s best-selling author after her debut novel, “Buttocks In Flames”, won ninety-five literary awards, sold over 5.9 million copies, and was heralded by The Guardian as “… a sick, degraded, wretched horror of a novel, and besides which, most of the things the people do in this book are impossible anyway.”

Likes ponies. Really likes ponies. Recently broke up with Seamus O’Seamus, her lover of five years and the man voted as Ireland’s least eligible bachelor, after he complained to the press that she had broken his anal sphincter into at least three pieces.

(far right, dreadlocks): Clarisse (nee Claude) Dubois, Britain’s best loved transsexual singer. Following a successful gender reassignment surgery, Clarisse launched a multi-platinum record career after achieving media fame for ripping out Victoria Beckham’s uterus and forcing her to eat her now disused genitals at a nightclub in Soho. In this picture, Ms. Dubois is wearing a pair of stockings dating back to at least 1440, and reportedly ejaculated into by a pubescent Charles II during the reign of James I. Reportedly dating Boy George.

(bottom) Sir Tyler Reginald-Mountsworthy: tonight’s entertainment. But he doesn’t know it yet.

— excerpt from “Who’s Who in Amoral Perversion”, 2005 Edition

copyright Nicholas mad_and_crazy