1. James Jean’s Skin Conch - do you know who james jean is? if you dont you fucking should. those that d,o know whithout a doubt that he is the best illustrator alive and “makes you want to cut off your hands” if youre the type that likes to draw. what you may not know about him is that his hair is lustrous & beautiful, and that he is a trained musician. he plays piano, trumpet, and debuting on stage this weekend was SKIN HORN. no it is not a euphemism for masturbation, it is the most amazing feat man can witness besides the black lady that can stick out her eyeballs. i will look for a video somewhere
2. Hello Kittys Birthday Party - INSANE, lots of cute shit and cute girls on blow. excellent combination of friends and fans.
3. Tarina Tarantino’s bbq - humgulls and lemoncello, their home is beautiful, their children are adorable, and the corn was delicious. whats not to love about tarina’s family? yeah. nothing.
4. Amtrak - free crabcakes & mashed potatoes, a tiny 64 year old woman who trains young men to ride bulls for rodeo.. excellent at cursing
5. The DJ from linkin park following me around everywhere - OOOOOOH CHILD. if you are the worst element of the worst band ever, you better tell somebody. thats like having herpes and sharing chapsticks. gross. just gross. this guy is friends with dave so i was polite to him despite the fact that he is asian and i find most asian people that arent f.o.b.s to be super fucking boring, and come the end of the night i find out that dave wasnt joking when he said the guy from linkin park got us in the party. ehhhhhhhhhh. the guy would like leave early while our squad was saying goodbyes and then pull up front of the party to rev the engine of his balling model bmw in front of the crowd. yeah. that happens.
6. marios - best peruvian food ever
7. kevs new photos - damn. damn. damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. if you replace bill murrays “mmm”s at the dinner table in what about bob with “damn”s its about right
8. afterparties - ( )
9. i got a feeling - never stopped
10. Dave’s installation at the Japanese Art Musuem - has a gigantic clit dog, my brothers stories stuck to crates and walls and a cross made out of buttholes and money stack wrappers in the thousands from casinos. the rest is indescribable. if you in LA go see it on 1st street or avenue im not sure which.
my life feels like its running on high octane suck tonight, though for no good reason. this afternoon was immaculate dope: i made 20 bucks, bought art supplies, and sealed the deal on train tickets for friday. from jack london to union station, all train non-stop; im going to LA(zer beam) for family friend dave choe’s installation at the japanese american art museum -even though he is korean, who historically hate the japanese and vice versa- annnnnd it coincides with the unveiling of sam and tury’s hello kitty rollercoaster. yes hello kitty rollercoaster, and i cant explain more because thats all i know, but whenever those boys put their heads together you betterbelievedat shits gonna be cute as fuck and you will dance.
so yes a fine afternoon, and not a bad morning either, i made potatos au-awesome in the wok, we have to make everything in the wok, because a woks all we got, only furnishing our house to the point of wonton making and record playing when we first got here and havent done much to change it since. resulting in steaks in the wok, soups in the wok, and for the first time in the recorded history of humans, as far as i know, DRUMROLL PLEASE… hot pocket in the wok. yes, my friends, i rule at delicious.
but i dont know, since i got back home from the city its been as knoxer would say ‘al boo boo’. fuck, maybe it was having to break into my house for the fifth time this week since i dont know where my fucking keys are and katrina is in gaytinez (read:martinez). this involves setting my shit on the floor hopping a gate, avoiding pissing off the pitbull the first yard, opening the gate picking up my shit, and crossing one, two, three, four more back yards and fences and finally sliding open a window and flopping over the couch.
its do-able but its retarded.
so backflipping into an empty home, that could be it. having no one i want to call could be it. a whole grip of belated hangovers could be it. maybe its just my loneliness that i dont actually want resolved. the fact that i think at all could be the answer.
so here i wait for tomorrow. thinking about paint, and lies to come.
we made APE OUR BITCH. our table, was the best fucking table. damn.
1. “…just as the definition given preserves a word, embalms it in its decrepitude, but in a pose which is noble, hypocritical and arbitrary -a pose it never assumed in the days of its vogue, while it was still topical, living and meaningful- so it is that health, recognized as public Good, is only the sad mimic of some illness which has grown unfashionable, ridiculous and static, a solemly doddering phenomenon which manages somehow to stand on its feet between the helping hands of its admirers, smiling at them with is false teeth. A commonplace, a physiological cliche, it’s a dead thing.”
2. “The ceiling becomes hollow like a funnel, a dizzy maelstrom that greedily sucks in the whole of nature in confusion. The universe resounds like a gong! Then all is drowned out by the fearful voice of silence. Everything disappears as i return to consciousness.”
3.”…but now we went down of our own free will to do our probation in Hell.”
4. “And what was our real state of mind? I often wondered as I watched my comrades. We were abandoned by everyone and each one of us lived to himself, in a rarefied atmosphere, turned in upon himself as if contemplating an abyss.”
5. “‘There, there,’ he said. ‘Dont get worked up over nothing. You’ll see what you will see. And keep your eyes open. All this is only the beginning of the end.’”
6. -QUOTE OMITTED-
7. “‘I know your character,’ he said to me. ‘His name is Erostratus. He wanted to become famous and he couldn’t find anything better to do than burn down the temple of Ephesus, one of the seven wonders of the world.’
‘And what was the name of the man who built the temple?’
‘I dont remember,’ he confessed. ‘I don’t believe anybody knows his name.’
‘Really, but you remember the name of Erostratus? You see, he didn’t have things figures out too badly.’”
8. “Others may achieve out-and-out evil by design, sure of themselves, taking an interest in their victims and in the sport… I have never done anything but suffer from great bumbling uncertainty, and writhe, when brought into contact with others, in my own stupid cruelty.”
9. “I am conviced now that no passion is so strong as to alter the nature of one who endures it. One may die of it, but that doesn’t change a thing… from the ordeal our true nature comes out, and it horrifies us; normally disgusts us; and we would wish even to be dead, the insult is so unspeakable, but we have no one to blame but ourselves.”
10. “There is a point in suffering when it is inevitable -it is a natural aesthetic- that one should believe oneself to be suffering unjustly: this brings into force again, according to our most coveted desires, fascination for life; it restores a sense of our worth in the face of things; it is flattering.”
11. “Yaku, maker and creator of the devil. swine merchant, your time is near at hand, fuck with me and your time will be now. Your presence here effects the mind of my people like a fever. You, Yaku, are the bearer of nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine diseases, evil, corrupt, porkchop-eatin’ brain! Ai yi yi yi yi yi”
12. “Kill, fly faster, and love to your heart’s content.”
13. “Y’all know wassup, four fingers up, two twisted in the middle with the thumb cupped.”
14. “… and every birth marks the beginning of decomposition- like the Frau-Welt when we get too close to her. In the course of this process, Hamlet’s fantasy disintegrates, so that Ophelia becomes, as it were, approachable int a direct way, without the screen of fantasy, he is no longer sure where she fits in, observing her with a strange detachment, as if she were an alien.”
15. “…desperately wanted his beloved Clara to remain at a proper distance in order to retain her sublime status, and thus avoid changing into a true neighbor who forces herself on us with her repellent crawl of life…”
16. “Love is masochistic. These cries and complaints, these sweet alarms this anguished state of lovers, this suspense, this latent pain that is just below the surface, almost unexpressed, these thousand and one anxieties over the loved one’s absence, this feeling of time rushing by, this touchiness, these fits of temper, these long daydreams, this childish fickleness of behaviour, this moral torture where vanity and self-esteem, or perhaps honour, upbringing and modesty are at stale, these highs and lows in the nervous tone, these leaps of the imagination, this fetishism, this cruel precision of the senses, whipping and probing, the collapse, the prostration, the abdication, the self-abasement, the perpetual loss and recovery of one’s personality, these stammered words and phrases, these pet-names, this intimacy, these hesitations in physical contact, these epileptic tremors, these successive and ever more frequent relapses, this more and more turbulent and stormy passion with its ravages progressing to the point of the complete inhibition and annihilation of the soul, the debility aof the senses, the exhaustion of the marrow, the erasure of the brain and even the desiccation of the heart, this yearning for ruin, for destruction, for mutilation, this need of effusiveness, of adoration, of mysticism, this insatiability which expresses itself in hyper-irritability of the mucous membranes, in errant taste, in vasomotor or peripheral disorders, and which conjures up jealousy and vengeance in crimes, prevarications and treacheries, this idolatry, this incurable melancholy, this apathy, this profound moral misery, this definitive and harrowing doubt, this despair -are not all these stigmata the very symptoms of love in which we can first diagnose, then trace with a sure hand, the clinical curve of masochism?”
17. “Here we find the logic of courtly love and of sublimation at its purest: some common, everyday object or act becomes inaccessible or impossible to accomplish once it finds itself in the position of the Thing -although the thing should be easily within our grasp, the entire universe has somehow been adjusted to produce, again and again, an unfathomable contingency blocking access to it.”
18. “The other side of this necessity which realizes itself in the guise of a series of contingent intrusions which again and again prevent the universal notion or project from realizing itself… is the necessity, the absolute certainty, that within the field of a universal Lie the ‘repressed’ truth will emerge in the guise of a particular contingent event. That is the basic lesson of psychoanalysis: in our everyday lives, we vegetate, deeply immersed in the universal Lie; then, all of a sudden, some contingent encounter -a casual remark during a conversation, an incident we witness- brings to light the repressed trauma which shatters our self-delusion.”
19. “And this artificial monotony which he takes pains to create, this monotony which is slowly taking over the world, this monotony is the sign of our greatness.”
20. “‘Without visual limit there can be no, or almost no, mental imagery; without a certain blindness. no tenable appearance.’ Or -as Lacan put it- without a blind spot in the field of vision,without this elusive point from which the object returns the gaze, we no longer ‘see something’; the field of vision is reduced to a flat surface, and ‘reality’ itself is perceived as a visual hallucination.”
1-5, 16, 19 -Blaise Cendrars
8-10 -Cesare Pavese
13 -Dub C
14, 15, 17, 18, 20 - Žižek
theres this guy with an old irish face and hairline who frown when he hears another persons laughter but is getting quite swept up in banging away at his archaic laptop, theres a gay black man in a kilt and a normal fucking tshirt buying coffee. hes wearing glasses, and just moved out of the way for a chubby white girl in an embroidered linen top, jansport backpack and gut hanging out from above her jeans, which are a light color, and i cant see from here, but i know she has peace sign earings, or atleast a bracelet. outside theres this girl, a big girl, but shes not fat, shes a ginger and shes much taller than me, and im 5’8, her gait is that of a nordic immigrant farmer, i dont know, thats what i picture, as if huge clods of dirt are stuck to her big brown leather boots and thats why it looks so difficult for her to walk, which she does as if there is no sun out, he breasts are not gigantic, but her walk makes them appear to be so, they heave violently with each weighted stomp but its not just her titties its everything on her chest up until her clavicles, as if her skin is connected like tectonic plates, if one part needs to move, then the whole thing goes too. she is wearing or was shes gone now a flowery thing dress whose front row of buttons were all twisted up or skewed i think her armpit was eating up her dress under her jacket and sidebag also making hungry grabs, which the dress gave into generously. the whole thing looks deranged.