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| Tuesday, May 2nd, 2006 | | 11:12 am |
SLEEP WELL, I'LL SEE YOU AGAIN SOMEDAY Samer is one of those people you won't often meet. And he's hard to forget. He loved so much about life. I'm sure everyone that had the chance to meet him in his brief life will keep something with them that won't ever fade. He was like no one else in the world. My life with him has been the happiest time I could ever wish for. I feel like the luckiest being on earth right now to have been able to know him so well. He was gigantic! In a room full of people he was the only one there. He could talk to anyone about anything. And really, even if he never stopped talking during a conversation, you can be sure that he was listening carefully. He wouldn't dismiss what someone said but he loved to argue a point. He was so talented in so many things. I'm sure that everyone can think of at least one thing that is without doubt your favorite thing about him. I loved everything about him. Even the things that made me mad would cause me to pull the covers under my eyes at night as I lied next to him and study his face through watery eyes. I could brush the hair from his forehead and lose my breath for a moment. He made me happy. He made me feel safe. He made me feel beautiful. I feel proud to say that I am Samer's wife. I feel honored that he would share his life with me and I am sad that I won't have more time with him. Samer has done a lot in his life, more than it would take someone to do in two lifetimes and he only had 28 years. But he wrung everything he could from the time he had and shared his life with those around him. He obsessed over words, phrases, language...I wish I could put some words together to do him justice, but I can't. He was my honey, my baby, my little peanut and I'm going to love him for the rest of my life. I'm sure that as he was leaving us all, he was looking at angels.  Samer's MySpace page | | 10:54 am |
| | Tuesday, September 14th, 2004 | | 5:09 pm |
To Girls, with Gasps.
Having a party this week here. Arranging things for that. School starts Monday. Ending up getting two entirely different degrees rather than double major. Very, very close to finishing one. Sarah travels all this semester for modeling all over country; meeting with big agencies. Need a contract that will also let her work with who she wants for free or a lesser rate. Sarah also getting involved a bit more classically with acting. New York preparations begin in fall of 2005, maybe. Parson's, maybe. Death, maybe. Look at wife and wonder how. I tricked her, maybe. Possibly confusing long worms for snakes. Or wet frail branches. Wispy 18th century purple Prada blouse. Sparsely dotted Halston top. One is for a friend. Chaptered dreams about which cannot be spoken compel Quran clutching. It is what Red Fear is. Fuck. We are not in Narnia. And because all stories exist on planes we will all always be distant from one another. Though we may wave and chat, above, or below. OH YEAH, MATHEMATICS IS NOT NUMBER ART. | | 12:50 pm |
So my wife is very platinum blonde and she looks as if she stepped off the pages of Vogue or W; or, some other magazine, but also -- not some other magazines! Things on the modeling front are heading toward a full-time career for her. And acting. She is stubborn, though. Random people approach her, woman at the salon gasp and declare her "amazing!" but she doesn't see how beautiful she really is. Not in an insecure way, but more like "I don't see what the big deal is?" She can really wear anything now and have her hair anyway and it looks incredible. It will be interesting to see how Richard Kern shoots her in New York; oh, and Kern's pay site is up now. So, I finally found the missing piece of furniture that we needed to complete the guest bedroom -- the French vanity mirror. It is antique white with goldish-yellow trim circa 30's-40's. I want to see my wife powdering her face away while seated in front of that most lucid tell-tale mirror while I am grinning at her with the side of my mouth as I complete tying the knot on my tie. I have to go to a meeting, but I will promise to put pictures up of the girl with whom I am obsessed. Did you know that one out of every | | 1:50 am |
Anna Karina throws her bag on the ground and falls to her knees, sraping them, sobbing.
My wife, ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1) goblinchild, got a new hairstyle today that is incredible on her. She gets colored tomorrow. This salon is very excellent and we have been waiting to work exclusively with one so that we have certain understandings when a shoot may demand something fast. I have to thank a certain someone for going with Sarah in the consultation process. Thank you. They did ask her to do a show for them but she will be on her way to New York from Boston on that day for another shoot, so...It was a paying job, but it was a benefit so I don't think we would be able to feel okay about taking the payment. She will work with them again. Sarah looks like a very young Anna Karina right now. Actually, even better. Two days ago I was walking in the park because it was nice; and humans living in capitalist countries do these kind of things, yes? Two people were walking in front of me. Sarah was with me, as well. The one on the left drops a plastic/foil chip bag as if these chip bags naturally shed from his body as he moves in his environment at the threshold of a season. Surely this person does not molt as such. He did not use any force to shove this bag to the, yes, fairly sullied ground. And people, remember, my very young wife is with me and seeing all this. She is quite an impressionable young thing; we do not want her to think that this apathetic occurrence is well-to-do. My sweetest Sarah looks to me as soon as the innocent piece of trash hits concrete, and she puts her hand over her mouth to silence her gasp, huge eyed and bones stretched on tip toes to catch a glimpse from directly above the silvery inside of the bag. So I approve of her initial reaction but my own reaction is quite crucial at this moment. I grasp the girl-Sarah's hand, as we were before this deviation but with a bit more connotation of something that holding hands already implies, and glide-walk to the stupid looking garbage and scoop it up severely smooth, without a hesitating step. I crumple it so as to make the commonly known empty chip bag noise. The left-side-bag-shedder glanced a glance with unease over his dumb back, and just then, in that fast peek he intended to give yet just to show that he knew what was going on and did not care, I made him look longer when I spun around doing an intimidating pirouette and sent the happy bag into where he was destined to go - the hardest, most metalest dumpster in the park. In that moment, when the polluter saw me spin like that and throw that bag away, he was like, "shit...that motherfucka' is ill...pirouettin' like that and shit...next time I'm gonna' throw away some shit and be the cool motherfucka'!" | | Monday, September 13th, 2004 | | 7:11 pm |
find me on the street.
In my life, when I was a bit more of a risky person to cross paths with, people always showed me respect. They actually acted quite fawningly nice, maybe even maudlinly sycophantic. I really was not bad, in itself, but I was shrewd, and violent if it may even questionably was needed; I wasn't stupid. Well, I did do dumb shit when I would slip now and then, but for the stuff that has happened compared to the time I have served, I really cannot complain. I don't know how to measure revenge, and I do not know how to apply paying back mathematically something is a different form than what I have taken. But, there are people who have only received the good end of me. To be honest, for the most part, in the past, except for some strange bouts of delusion, anybody who was harmed also harmed others , or tried to harm me. And they were involved with the world we were all fondling, so...I do not know what equates what, it was all so fucked up, and it is kind of a blur, and what remains are some strange capacities to percieve things in a bitterly logical manner. That can be bad. What I do know is that now I live my life a bit apart from it all, and feel sincerely warm to many people and things. I mean, I am not being nice because it seems correct and the easiest path to peacefully living, but rather, I want to help if it is needed and I can understand many positions. Yes, I do have an athical value system and it is fairly simple. I do not understand why now, when I am just secluded, concentrated on my life, and when I concentrate on another's life it is to help sincerely...I do not know why now is the time for people to start being so bad about it all. It is not exactly a Nietzschean slave ethic that I think is happening here, but something wholly separate yet similarly reactionary. And this is not regarding anything specifically but everything from my days of really deciding to practice something different all the way up to the thoughts of a couple hours ago. | | 6:49 pm |
Car problem is fixed. Everything is settled and my appointment for the tattoo removal process is set. We are doing all the highly visible work first, then discussing the rest. Sarah, my wife, goblinchild, is leaving me for a while soon. She is going to Boston for business for the store and then she has to go to New York afterward to shoot with Richard Kern for a couple shoots. The Celeste magazine spread with her is out. I will post some of the stuff when our copy gets here. I am starting school in a couple of weeks. My wife and I have had to take turns for these semesters with school because of the store business. I cannot really leave the state, so...I am almost done with my Fiction Writing degree, but still have to finish my Fashion Design 2nd major. Somebody I know, I promised to not tell who, pulled me to some secluded area today and showed me a picture. The picture showed him holding a big jackpot sort of check for about 3,ooo,ooo. He won it at a casino almost by accident. Well, he is getting 94,000 a year for some time, rather than some crappy 600,000 check at once that he will have to pay crazy taxes every year on. He is a really good person and has worked hard his whole life so that made me so happy to see that. It made me feel as if there almost is this thing similar to justice that operates autonomously. Probably not, but it just made me think it for a moment. Worked out to the point of Nausea; Sarah's ass is becoming severely mighty from all those weights she has been hurling around in such a brutal manner. What a girl, you know? What a girl. | | Saturday, September 11th, 2004 | | 5:41 pm |
If you knew anything you would tell all...you scoundrel.
I went out last night. I almost left but then I din't. I met a man who is quite the brilliant one, and I am waiting for our next conversation. He is finishing his dissertation here for U of C Berkley and he already got hired with a contract for many years to teach at Northwestern; that is very impressive, especially without a Doctorate already being done. I guess they heard him speak, or lecture somewhere and looked into him. But what is more impressive is how he is as a person, or, at least what I sense as of now. And he is great friends with my great friend so I trust in that. I am waiting for my Russian literature professor to talk business about dealing with buying from European designers that he is representing. I don't feel like talking this talk right now and it is a bit awkward because I do not like to do business with friends, unless they are completely on my side. But, he is also here because I am presenting his daughter's film, "signs and symbols," tonight at the Heaven Gallery screenings of September 11 topic pieces. There is quite a bit of different stuff playing so it should be interesting. It starts at 9 p.m.. Here is a picture from a photoshoot on my roof of my wife by the photographer, Mashu Kobuyoshi. I like it, though there are some technical discrepencies I feel, but I have never been satisfied in my whole life. Well, except with my wife. Bye, people. Only atop a roof will she shed the veil on the boobs of youth!  | | Tuesday, September 7th, 2004 | | 1:17 am |
SILENT WEAPONS FOR QUIET WARS
I wake at the same time early in the morning irrespective of the amount, or quality, of previous sleep. I wake with a monomaniac focus - sugar! I feel like I need it or else I cannot go back to sleep, and I remain starving. As long as I sate the suger craving I will no longer be hungry. I have checked all my levels lately with blood tests and the numbers do not even hint a whisper of diabetes. I don't know. I also grind my teeth, fiercely, and have nightly nightmares that have become routine in our bed-life. The nightmares are not seemingly nightmarish situations, or scenes, but the sense of horror and the fear which is imparted to me is beyond the scope of any nightmare I have heard of. I must tire my body through rigorous body training in order for me to be able to go back to sleep after my upper torso is theatrically hurled/shoved forward from fastly smearing silent AAAAH! GASPING "SARAH?...SARAH?!" image so as to make me into the most tragic drippy wide-eyed, whimpering right angle, ever! Stuck in sustain because such immaculate, clean fears spill paranoia from nightmare onto bed. I have a small Quran from my Tay-ta(grandmother) under two stacked pillows, that are on Sarah's side, and we say our prayers, mostly protective, which has helped much as of late. We keep it under that side because we can commonly be found with both heads atop said area. We cling to one another in sleep because our unconscious knows we are all really doomed. | | Thursday, September 2nd, 2004 | | 4:34 pm |
Diamanda Morissey/Michael Galas/Chechnyan Bardot
Well, I have been waiting a long time for this. About 10 years. I am going to see Diamanda Galas. I really do want to talk with her. We also got tickets to go see Morrisey. I have also never seen him and am excited for that. What will I wear? I have to look quite good for both, yes? I am going to be interviewing Mortis for a magazine. For any that do not know he was the original keyboard player for Emperor from Norway and he does noise/ambient music. For those familiar with him - I am wondering if I should leave the subject of his prosthetic nose out of it. I used to listen to him so at least I will be able to discuss music with him. I guess my wife and I are supposed to be photographed for this guy's big show in Spain. I wish I could go to Spain; I wish I could even go to Iowa. One year and a half left of this oh so horrible parole. One of my friends called my today and she was freaking out almost acting accusatory about where is the Muslim world right now, and where will they be in a week regarding Chechnya. She is upset. She is Polish. She said she watched Al-Jazeera for a while and they did not say anything about it. I told her Al-Jazeera is an Arab news netework, and not a Muslim news network. I also told her that Chechnya is very important to many Muslims, and many do care. She suggested that all people care about is Palestine. We talked for a little while about this and then I was smoking cigarettes the whole time. Very good news came our way today about the store to be opened. I am going to watch Godard's "Contempt"; criterion is beautiful for making these gorgeous versions of all these films. I found me a bit of a Bridgette Bardot model type in angry pro-Chechnyan Polish girl. She is the Polish Bardot. You will see in pictures. So now I will watch movie and then fondle the girl-Sarah. | | 8:24 am |
IF YOU REALLY WANT IT...
I say both of these surahs(verses) before I go to sleep every night, along with one other not listed, three times. There are other things done before sleep not listed, though. And although it is a harsh sound, I am blessed to hear the loudness of their whispers. Well then let the cowards crawl and the snakes feast. (Bismil-lahir-rahmaanir-raheem) In the name of Allah, The Beneficent, The Merciful Say: "I take refuge with the Lord of the dawn, From the evil of what He has created, And from the evil of the dark night when it comes, And from the evil of those who blow on knots, And from the evil of the envious when he envies." Surat-al-Falaq 113 "The Daybreak" (Bismil-lahir-rahmanir-raheem) In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful) Say:"I take refuge with the Lord of Mankind, The King of Mankind, The God of Mankind, From the evil of the slinking whisperer, Who whispers evil into the hearts of mankind, From among Jinn and Mankind." Surat-al-Naas 114 "Mankind" | | Monday, August 30th, 2004 | | 12:25 am |
West Leaning Japanese Rooftop
Today I witnessed probably a really good photoshoot of my wife, goblinchild. The Japanese photographer, Mashu Kobayashi, shot the pictures and I did much of the styling. We went on the high roof when the sun was just perfectly west so that it would cast the shadows from the western wall and buildings. It was just amazing! I usually do not get excited about her photoshoots because she does so many but this just looked so damn good. There are only two times in the day when you can shoot on the roof due to natural light- early morning and late afternoon, anything else will look bleached out because of the silver floor. There was alot of shooting in the apartment, too. He shot the couch alot, like every photographer who comes here. Below is a test shot that shows the couch well but does not reveal Sarah; I will post those when they are ready. The Purple magazine release with Sarah's spread comes out September 1st, and the Celeste magazine release should be soon, on which I was stylist. Well, Richard Kern just wrote me down as stylist but I was just babbling in the corner at Sarah to "wear this and that", and told Richard "this chair has to be here, and this one here..." Oh, we finally got our fucking router to work! We are both on computers now! It was a problem with Comcast, the diabolical bitches. We went to a garage sale around the corner where Sarah got a real all silver purse from overseas, and another art deco one. Mashu saw some of Sarah's Diversatech Mental Health Ward pictures, and then made a very appealing offer to Sarah involving her shooting. This is the fifth photographer to bring up something similar in regard to the pictures. It all deals with doing a book. So I am happy for Sarah. I have the study done, a separate library area in a bigger room, changed the bedroom around, still need a French vanity mirror for Sarah to put in the guest bedroom, and have to remove a couple pieces from the front living room. I am never sated; I will always ruminate in the chew the curd sense. There is something I am very excited about that i cannot say until tomorrow lest I help its ruin. If all goes as it should I will post it, and even if it does not I will still utter its frowning face biting the clumps of waste in a puddle. Here is the couch and some of the pictures by Sarah of Diversatech, the abandoned state psychiatric ward. Just click on the picture to see more. Photo by Mashu Kobayashi of Sarah on couch  Diversatech photos by Sarah (click on picture to see more)  | | Saturday, August 28th, 2004 | | 4:38 pm |
I WANT MORE CASTRATOS! NOW! I would, but...
Why is there no more castratos? There should be more castratos. The last recording we have of a castrato, Alberto Moreschi's, has him singing at an age beyond his good years. It still gives us a sense of this wondrous voice, but not in its glory. I want more castratos! I do not see anything unethical about it as long it is not done out of desparation as once was practiced. Parents used to do it to their children just for the mere possibility of them possibly making it into the pope's choir so they would have income. Most would not make it, though. The problem is that even if a boy agreed to it, and even wanted it, it would be seen as unethical because of his supposed inability to make a decision at a young age. A true fascist state could address these needs. There really is no choice but to resort to a sort of fascism before any positive movement can be made wholly with human society. Democracy is one of the most abhorrent systems in the world even if it did truly exist anywhere, but it doesn't, and I do not think it will. Why do people think the United States is a Democracy? It is a Republic and admittedly so by this country. This government and media does confuse people by using the word too often; they know the automatic positive value and connotation assigned to the system so they feel their system is close enough to be able to interchange the word. Fascism is interesting in the sense that it is not a system but more so a rule, and every fascist just wants their idea of fascism to be imposed. I do not agree with any form of fascism, it can be the best and the most horrific system depending on how it is done. It can be said this way - I would not say that I think parenting is a system; I would not say I support parents as an idea; it can be good, and can be horrible depending on the parents. Hard analogy. I am going to go to and beat up some kid from Russia now, goodbye. Oh, I do not think his ancestors are from Russia, he has Teutonic spacing between the eyes, you know. Maybe that is where I will punch him. Hopefully he will hurt me a little, but just a healthy amount. Oh, bye people. | | Tuesday, August 24th, 2004 | | 9:47 pm |
We went to the Museum of Contemporary Arts today to see the Skin Tight exhibit. I was a bit disappointed in the scarce amount of pieces, and the actual pieces itself. The subject on which they were focusing could have lent itself to a much more interesting spectacle of work. The Hussein Chalayan area was good; it more than suggested the Louis Sullivan mantra of "form follows function." Some of the Boudicca shoes were also astonishing in regard to design and craftsmanship. I decided to write as I am waiting for it to stop raining so I can go running. My wife is showing definition already from training with free weights. The hint of shoulder muscles on a woman is beautiful. Yesterday, I enjoyed her saying "that's too light...put some more weight on it." She was referring to the Lat pull-down machine. The rain stopped. So, bye. Check back later tonight for grim eroticism. Oh, there was a most wonderful etching of Madame Edwarda and her cunt in the exhibit, as well. Speaking of etchings, I will take a picture of the Hans Bellmer we have and post it soon. It's title translates into "The Songs of Maldoror;" of course referring to the character in the book by Lautreamont. Bye. | | Sunday, August 22nd, 2004 | | 4:04 am |
Even all the animals think us queer.
My sister flitted through town for a shoot, She is 4-5 months pregnant. We went to this new place that just opened up the street for breakfast. Wife is obsessing over a dog in an animal rescue shelter in Michigan. The dog's name is Nadia. Her old owner flung her out of a window of a moving vehicle when she was a a very young puppy. She was then brought to the pound. The rescue shelter did not want her to be "put to sleep"; that is, killed. So they brought her to the shelter where they are now looking for a person, or people, who would like Nadia to live with them. Her leg is in bad shape from being thrown from a window; it may have to be amputated. She needs lots of medical care. Nadia is my favorite name, though. She is supposed to get along amiably with cats. We have a cat. His name is Television. We had three; Lilian and Eponine are their names, but they are with other people now. We are going to Museums Monday, including the Skin Tight fashion exhibit at the MCA. Tomorrow, really today, is going to be pleasant. But I cannot talk about it because that is what my mother tells me about these sorts of things. I watched my wife goblinchild sleep for a while as I usually do early this morning. I usually take pictures of this incredible occurence for a certain reason but not this morning. It was more beautiful than many of the times before when I felt forced to leap for the camera and quietly shoot so as to sustain her bony pale frailness in warm peach light. This time I was stuck; I couldn't even remember where the camera was, and if I did, and if I could move, I would not possess the skill enough to decidedly take a picture. Then a hollow wispy whispering vibration emanated from her fetal-curled up body. It moved in pulses toward me; a strobe holograph of her limp body being carried by fear toward me. Seeping into my forehead the ghost, her, wiggles its still sleeping body through the brittle layers of my skull. Once in it twirls itself around almost giving me the same dizzying effect but I just fall because she was already spinning too fast for me to begin following her direction. I just fall and bounce my face-skin on the topside of a cat's paw. | | 2:50 am |
She had such a pretty little dirty mouth.
There is a possible link between oral cancer and tooth whiteners. There are cases of oral cancer where the patients are in their twenties and do not have any substantial connection with cancer causing substances such as tobacco products, smoking of anything, or alchohol. The only cohesive link is that almost all have used a form of teeth whitening products that contain carbamide peroxide, which is composed of approximately 35% hydrogen peroxide, the ingredient that is responsible for democratizing the white smile. The hydrogen peroxide, though, may also be responsible for spreading the cancer beneath those pretty teeth. Tests on lab rats and gerbils revealed that there was a link between hydrogen peroxide ingested and mouth cancers, as well as cancerous tumors, though there have never been this same caliber of testing on humans. The problem is that the manufacturers of these whitening products possess too heavy a faith which believes that the hydrogen peroxide will not leak into areas in the mouth where it could cause harm. When the hydrogen peroxide mixes with the oral mucosa it doesn't just "leak" into areas of the mouth where it could cause harm, it also makes it more susceptible to being swallowed which may result in causing other such cancers, such as of the throat. A study conducted revealed that less than 50% of the actual whitener was left in the whitening trays after a bleaching session; seeing as the teeth do not absorb the liquid the only possible place for it to end up is absorbed in the mouth or elsewhere from being swallowed. The trays that are purchased over-the-counter are found to aid the leakage more so than trays that are made by a dentist which have been made from a mold of the user's teeth. However, these are still inconclusive results due to some of the other abnormal younger aged cases of oral cancer where there was no history of using whiteners. Another possibility that would contribute to the dominant consensus of the data is that those unsolved young cases perhaps used a brand of toothpaste which contained the carbamide peroxide. -Samer Alshaibi | | Thursday, August 19th, 2004 | | 8:06 am |
"I might as well vote for your bitch, bitch! Cuz' both those bitches is bitches!"
"...you be aiight, like blood money in a pimp's cum." I wanted to go see "The Spider's Strategem" yesterday at Facet's but I didn't make it. I know it is based on a Borges' story. I think it will play again in the Bertolucci festival. Another Richard Kern set of the Monkey-girl is up on the Modernist site, and somewhere else that is regarded as some big site that I cannot think of right now, but - www.themodernist.com. Kuperus' from Adult. does some really good photography work. I would not mind collecting some of her prints. Oh, I am looking for some out of stock Ersatz releases if anybody knows. I have everything they have to offer; they are the most thorough label out there as far as their artists but sometimes I wish they would print a little more of the vinyl up so it would not go out of print so fast. I have to get ready to start school again. It is going to be diffucult because of all the things my wife and I have to do while in school. Maybe we are too conscious of mortality. I know I was almost immortal at one point in my life. In the way where I was not conscious that I was going to die but also was not thinking I was going to live forever. Really, it was just a disregard for the whole damn rubbish. Even when I would see people die, or have to touch them while dead, it still really did not touch me. Sorry for that trite metaphor, it was an accident. I like to be awake very early in the morning. So I can spit on people and shit. | | Wednesday, August 18th, 2004 | | 1:36 am |
She sits on it, I wake, her body jumps and heaves, her ass stomps on my cock, her cunt twitches.
My wife, the monkey girl, gave me head a day ago. Her lips grip/clench my cock like she is hungry/STARVED and unabashedly glutting herself with it. She makes noises; first loud, then the soft whimper, but both are eager and begging - "NNNNNGGGGNNNNMNMNMNHH?...nnnngh?" I was wondering why she didn't try to fuck seeing that it had been a couple days. She really likes to fuck, this monkey girl. Later that night I lay to briefly rest. I wake to her slamming her ass down on my cock and convulsing/stomping/shoving herself against me. I fuck back. Her cunt twitches/quivers/gives. Slowing the violence, there are some lingering shoves. Of course the last flops of a siezure are startling seeing that you began to rest thinking that the epileptic's body was finally at rest. She isn't wearing makeup, but her hair is huge and touching every thing everywhere. Would you believe that my wife hates white people? Disgusted by them, she is. I was just saying to her the other day, "baby, I know they look wierd and shit but they cannot be born completely evil! You do not think they are evil when they are babies, yes? Are Jews white, baby?" She put her head down so far that she was quite near face to face with the bottom of her front neck. Her neck is stretched thin, frail; a kind of thing that belongs only to the peasant aristocracy. I questioned her as to why. She said it was because we had not fucked in days! Now, like I said before, I do not know why she just didn't yank her head back away from my cock and stick it in her instead. That is a common thing for us; i.e., I stick it somewhere else after I withdraw from famined vacuum. Why not this again, huh? Why the waking aggression? Why hurl me so far from one place to another? After sometime with her head down, eyeing neck bottom, she races it up. She has something important to say! I know this because her top eyelashes curl down and her bottom eyelashes curl up meeting at the tips on each eye forming a protective cage. She tells me that she, and some others, are the progeny of the Neanderthal. She tells me that cro-magnon did not kill all of them. I sense this has something to do with both hating white people and the eyelash cage. DOOMISM: Believing in God but disliking God. Current Mood: holocaustic | | Monday, August 16th, 2004 | | 4:39 am |
The JAPANESE TONGUE CAMERA/ NEBRISTIC LOVE
The last attack I had lasted for an hour; it was something otherly, though. I remember thinking that I must die during this one because I am seeing things that a person that lives should not have seen. New forms, with numbers and letters. A violent ecstatic art. New terms galvanize and popularize obscure activity. Nebrism-to willfully be malicious to something to which you are inclined to be amiable. This is usually practiced for ascetic reasons;to decline oneself the satisfactory joy felt from being friendly with that thing, and to possibly suffer as a result of nebrism. My wife said something queer at the restaurant tonight. I was talking about how different dentists over the years have told me that my teeth get weak and sore due to me probably grinding my teeth while I sleep. I asked her if she had seen me do this. "No," says she. "I know I do it...becausewhenIwakeup sometimes...,"now sticking my tongue between my teeth,"ah goh ma tunh lie thi arlmo bininh ih oth!" And then I also add, with tongue back where it feels proper,"there'llbea thin layer ofblood...andeverything...I know one day I'mgonna'wakeup...and it will be gone." As sarcastic as this may seem I was serious. My wife was smiling with these glossed over inside her skull peering eyes twitching pupils at my face. "What are you smiling at!" says I, trying to will myself to be enraged. "I just was thinking of your little tongue, and how cute it is," says this dazed wife of mine, smile stretched a bit wider. "What?!" "You know, it's just so cute...your little tongue," giggling, giddy, delighted at the thought of the sight of my poor tongue, whether it be with me, or alone bitten off by my teeth which I now suspect of being in conspiracy with her for the purpose of the isolation of my tongue for her to easily withdraw from her hand-purse and be tickled silly. Waiting for winter. Spent most the day on a shoot with my wife, goblinchild, with the photographer Mashu Kobayashi. We did the shoot at his condo but the next shoot he is doing at our place. Even if we end up buying a building or house I would still keep this place as a studio. We bid on an Araki original print but lost. The photographer today is going to put us in touch with somebody in Japan, though. Basketball, weights, running tomorrow. | | Sunday, August 15th, 2004 | | 10:46 am |
Oh, I forgot to even mention anything about the Curiosa fest. Interpol was incredible and their new songs were good enough that I am conscious of the release date everyday. The new album is called Antics. I know alot of people who have been turned off by them because of commercial success and associating them with the flock of new bands that sound like things past; yes, they do recall a certain Joy Division/Echo and the Bunnymen/Talking Heads/Tears for Fears/Smiths, with a sonic touch on top of all that. They are just good, though. Every person whom for I have played the album resulted in liking the band alot. They were really fucking loud and you could feel it in your gut. The Cure played almost all old stuff and their sound was amazing. Robert Smith is a great performer and held every expression that every word of every song deserved. I am very happy that I have finally seen them. It was a big deal for my wife who was goth and still possesses a certain inclination toward the same tendencies. |
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