and sontag died of the luekima she has had since the 70s--this is what i wrote somewhere else about her...


i hated her notes on camp, but her book on fotos (her two books really) changed completely how i viewed art and the image, it completely rewired me--what pisses me off is how closeted she was, till her dying day, so closeted that i have seen rare mention of her long term and emotionally/aesthically/critically rewarding realtionship w. the wonderful annie lebowitz. which is why i think her notes on camp is so wrong (so deeply deeply wrong) because camp is a series of processes for queer folk to mitigate a hostile exterior landscape, and she was so safe that the mitigation was not nessc. (and also why illness, which was (obliquely)about her cancer, was better, more real, more honest and more wounding then aids which was held at a distance, happening to other people, so she could become colder--i find it strange considering her history, and her critical heratiage(sp) she didnt consider the nature of identity more--for critical heraitige(sp) read barthes

(brilliant critic, brilliant writer, hero of mine, should have come out)

the time list of top ten comix of the year is absurd, with the usual cocksucking of indie fucks, failing to realize when the work fails to potential (clowes latest issue of eightball) or has a musty, dull as dishwater, idelogical nostaligia (and by extension sort of white privelge sheen ) (ie seth's clyde fans) or loving those badly xeroxed mid80s, i was young and hip in ny reissues (amy and jordan) while lambasting one of the hardest, most haunting works as "unreadable" -- jimbo in purgatory.

fuck em.

and speaking of fucking em:
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0801065100/artandlies-20/002-9705777-1340053

(bak to seth--i hate seths work, loathe it--i hate how sad it is, not sad in the depressed sense but sad in the deeply pathetic sense, and how it tries to construct a historical narrative that never really existed--how he wants the 50s, but doesnt want to deal with the socio political implications of the 50s--not that everything has to be so deep but this indie hermeticism, this my pain is more legitmate then your pain, exhaustion---this cratedigger obsession about finding things b/c of there obscurity and not b/c of joy...

fuck seth. )

also
i may move this week, to a place that is more expenisve but in the annex, walking distance to work and other interesting things--far away from vic park and peter (who went thru the garbage a couple of days ago, peice by peice, anal about recycling)

one per cent of the entire population of sri lanka has died in the earth qaukes and resulting tsunamis, there were deaths from somalia to japan.

what do we say about this, except noting it ?

notes on some submissions

for a gallery on church street
15 fotos of b raymond neilson (exactly what it sounds like, the pictures i have taken of raymond in various guises, and various media) artists statement notes:

• reclaim buddy
• the politics of the male gaze as they relate to hetro/homonormativeness
• creation of new families
• ubquity of presence
• making once hostile dictomies (sp) safe for each other, but not nessc. others
• sheer practical nesscity of camera sharing
• post queer similarites of mcginley/dissimilarities to goldin
• snapshots
• raymond as hottie

For Spacing

An Anarchists Practical and Aesthetic Guide to the Subways of Toronto. (title; the article is 25 wor d blurbs on every subway station, practical shit--how good is the art, how easy is it to sneak on, do you see your breath waiting for the subway, what of interest is close to the station, what does the neighbourhood nearby consist of, how labryinthine is the station, what ammenities foes it have, et. al)

Toronto Ducks (cf venturi)

For The United Church Observer, or some other leftie jesus rag

sola scriptura and how it relates to the anglican windsor descion (sp)

tomorrow is xmas, and i wonder if i should go to midnite mass tonight, its always a pain to find a church, and sometimes to walk, but always a joy when i am there, a centering complex calmness comes into me, like snow on the wheat feilds, when my soul lies fallow...

but my soul is not fallow and my body is tired.

i dont know if i can stay till midnite.

being aware that everything is a mannifestion of normative socializing, and doing something about the normative socialaztion are two different things--namely, i am unsentimental about xmas, but the silly things make me miss home.

these things are then unsilly

pats off to london
d's in edmonton
raymond will follow soon
sundar and sean and company are all gone
im lonely.

im s cared of how homesick i am right now
homesick and broke

agnes martin died today, at the age of 95, in her nursing home at taos.
i cannot underestimate the spirtual power this womans work has had on me, she became my francis, my bernard, my anthony of padua.

she became my hardnosed sask. farm woman, united church dinner zazen.

im sad.
really sad.

today is the last day of a 40 hr week, retail at toys r us...and i like it--its busy, chaotic, and i still dont understand why so much is spent on so little (35 bucks for 45 yuo gi o cards comes to mind)

working on the floor in electronics, show up 15 minutes early, and go home half an hour late--its exhausting, and sort of fun too, and it feels good to be able to tell the world t hat i can actually do retail (they seem to like me, cross fingers and toes it works after jan.)

wednesday i went out w. sundar to a country/avant garde imrpov concert and met a pretty pretty banjo/uke player named jayme...we think he was flirting, so after i finish yiddish lessons, im going to pick up banjo ones.

there is more, but right now im almost out of time.

and a thot about the bible:

there is no one way to follow christ, christ and the christian church demands, from the begining a radical kind of plurailty

it demands it in the most literal way (galatians, the ethopian eunuch, the woman caught in adultery, etc)

but it also demands it in the most subtle of ways, by calling all of those who follow him to no longer follow old ways of capital for example, or to deny family for another....

and sometimes it becomes metacontextual.
the text of the bible is not the rigourous narrative expected out of tradtional religous sagas (its not the rig veda) and its also not the sayings of the prophets, that are also expected (its not any of the sutras)

it is a collection of dozens of narratives, all fractured, all complicated--some playing off each other, some in conflict and some dovetailing perfectly---and it demands a intertextual reading(s)--it is the reason why it is so easy for people to call each other bad xians or to deny xianity in there fellow believers--let me offer an example:

a radical anarcho-libertarian can look in matthew for proof texts, and he can tie those to the idea of debt forgiveness found in the numbers sections on jubillees, and tie that all into the distrust of secular states in the apocloyptic tradtions and have a pretty solid theology (if he ignores the idea of giving to ceaser what is ceasers) (sp)

a homophobe can skip over christ altogther, make bridgings b/w the mosiac laws of levticus, and pauls hatred in romans.

a feminst can link phoebe and ruth

one who objects to the idea of women in leadership can link unclean menses with women subjecting to there husbands.

(these are only the ones that are within the text themselves--there are others, for example the sumarian hymn to inanna featuring almost line by line cribs of the song of songs; isaacs struggle w ith abraham and the politics of moloch; paul's history as a roman before being an xian)

the canon was formed by comittees (who inspired the committees?), its lacunae (literally--the lack of cohesion b.w the hebrew and xian scripture; the 100s of deturocannonical texts, some of which are used as legitmate scripture (ie apocrpahya for the catholics, the maccabes for the orthodox) and some of which remain legitmate.), and since luther, an obsession w. scriptura wrong phrase).

so this text, with its genres, with its contexts--what do we do w. it ?
how do we play sola crpiptura w. a library that contains in it, prohecy and letters and poetry and eoritca and historical narrative and political propgranda (agitprop) and and and and...

anyways, im off to work (!!), this post was mostly for jeff, but andrew/drew put yr nose in.

im happy and there is much excitement.
i could write, or i could live.

writing to come later.
money still a concern.

jackson mac low died, at 82. i wish i could talk more about his poetry, the little i read touched me immensely, but itwas mostly about the thorny unworking and reworking of meaning and language...or something like that, and so words kind of fail. chris p would know more...(chris p taught me about poemsy) http://www.thing.net/~grist/l&d/lmaclow1.htm read it here.

not texas swing, honky t onk

also c/w him and gretchen wilson, also he played mama tried for me, and signed the setlist.

jason mccoy, at the hardrock--shitty venue, but brilliant show, that moves past the tension i have felt in his work, b/w old fashioned honky tonk and morew friendly cmt/radio pop.

this one, though marred by suburban assholes, was energetic, tight, fun, playful and v. much oreinteted towards the higher energy honky tonk and texas swing (in fact he used the word texas swing)

played haggard f or me, and signed a set list.

im also v. drunk.

kinsey--oh kinsey.

the movie has haunted me since i saw it on monday--its a hard movie to watch, a complicted, morally ambigous, deeply moving, deeply erotic, deeply funny movie.

its one thats well acted, thats solid, that moves and that does not manipulate.

it points out what mr kinsey taught us, that sexuality was not a binary, not a distinct set of idenities, but a series of practices--and these practices can be made into patterns that resmeble others patterns

that love is not evasive, that love (and consent and respect and desire and mutual entwining) is the great intangible, but really the only thing that matters.

it showed a man destroyed by his work, destroyed by the processes he put into place, destroyed by others ambitions and others hatred and his own immutable curiousity...and it was also the most queer film of the year...

(kinsey and his grad asst cylde are in a hotel room in chicago, getting ready for bed, when clyde asks him where on the scale he is--this conversation leads to clyde seducing kinsey, and thn seducing kinseys wife--and the three of them get together and fall apart w/o any catacylsms.)

(chris o donnell suggests a tumble at the end of a garden party---this tumble results in a jeslousy that almost splits apart the team)

(kinsey gives his father a questionarre after his mothers funeral, and kinseys father admits to having to wear a chasity belt)

(kinsey's son is deeply prudishly embarrassed at the frank dinner table talks)

(kinsey punctures his penis w. a straight pin, attenmpting to understand masochism, it just hurts, and kinseys wife cradles him, begging him to end the pain)

(kinsey and chris o donnel interview a man who has had sex with everything, and o donnell is so offended that he storms out of the room--the subject says he thot that kinsey was supposed to be non judgemental, that he was more sqaure then he imagined---kinsey replies, that anything can be done, b/w adults, with consent--a morality devolps.)

(kinsey becomes a preacher)

there is so much more...people need to see this film.

my father told me that kinsey was one of his heros, and i think he is mine as well

That sand into which we bury ourselves in order not to see, is formed of words...” –Georges Bataille, Inner Experience


saudi arabia and iraqi terrorists have managed homocide bombs in hte last two days killing dozens of people, but not v. many americans.

i have a job.

http://michaelpaulus.com/gallery/character-Skeletons

these are amazing, in craft and concept.

big day

the cyborg vs human collection was me, ray, two transhumanists, a lecturer and a bunch of little old ladies w. there husband, who said things like a robot cant love.

opening for fruit, with some of the pretty japanese girls in full gothic lolita regalia, and some fat ugly girls dressing in carnivals, as a way towards worship--asked a question talked to the artist, ate lots of good sushi

met w. rays dnc buddy, over a really good country band, who played squeeze box and sounded like death (good death, the way r

the budy is policiy wonk gone policy whore, playing the tune in which ever way the piper wants, wankish and wonkish--he was condescending, called me stupid-- and ray was at his yes sir no sir how high sir best, working hard at working me over (the buddy paid for rays drinks, ray paid by being monkey)

made me hate party politics even more.

think i got the toys r us job.
think i got a new house.

-----Original Message----- From: [redacted] Sent: Wednesday, December 01, 2004
To: [redacted] Subject: My not so best friend Jessica.......
So the night
started out great. She arrived at 2:00, I met all her peeps, manager, publicist,
yadda, yadda. Shmoozed with her mother (very nice). A tad stupid in that down
home Texas way. And constantly chewing gum. It was a little gross. Anyway,
Jessica arrives (without Nick) but with Cacee. Surprisingly Cacee lost about
20lbs grew her hair and obviously goes to the same colorist as Jessica because
there hair color is identical. Anyway, she did her rehearsal and we all went
upstairs. Nick then arrives. So cute and sooooo nice. He's a tad slimmer and
less muscle than expected and a little clueless but still very nice and VERY
cute.
So we went through a dress rehearsal right before the show. As we were
walking from dressing room to stage I would say 100 people asked her for a
picture, a wave, a smile, ANYTHING. Stone cold all night. Not one facial
expression did I see. It was actually really sad. Nick and Jessica were in 2
different dressing rooms. Not uncommon for talent but they never even entered
eachothers room! It was a tad uncomfortable. His manager never spoke to hers,
his publicist never spoke to hers, weird. He came out of the dressing room with
this all black outfit on and a gray coat and asked me if I thought he needed a
scarf and gloves. Being to good girl that I am I ran down to J.Crew (in the
middle of the lighting the tree party) and begged them to let me in to buy a
scarf and gloves! Got him a red scarf and black gloves. He loved it. But why
wouldn't he walk into his wife's room and ask her opinion? So weird.
Back to
her.. She is beautiful. Although you can't see the natural beauty because of the
makeup. So much makeup that you would want to itch it off your face. Horrible.
She is pretty short and VERY thin. No fat on that body. Her boobs are MASSIVE.
And def. real because they were sagging a bit. Her jewels are like nothing I
have ever seen before. So basically all around perfection.
The entire night
her tour manager kept asking me for things, more credentials, pizza, drinks,
everything. He said in exchange for that he would get me a picture with her.
Never happened. She refused to stop and take pictures with anyone. I heard him
asking her about a quick pictureas we were walking down the hall, she flat out
said NO. NO pictures with anyone. It was very sad for me as you all would know.
She never stopped for anyone. Complete BIATCH.
End of the night Nick leaves
and gets into his car without so much as a wave goodbye. NOTHING. She wouldn't
come downstairs unless 3 SUV's were already there. Picture 6th ave after tree
lighting and waiting for car service. A nightmare.
So no pictures at all but
memories. Also, the MTV crew got my approval to be on Newlyweds. They will
probably cut me out but who knows maybe I'll be in the back somewhere. Also, the
dressing rooms were on the floor of Saturday Night Live. That was pretty cool.
Oh and her mother went shopping arount 3 to Bergdorff and bought her 11 pairs of
shoes...
I've saved the best for last...
As much as I love them and the
show, I truly don't think it's going to last. She is way too protected by her
parents who were all over her all night. He never had a chance to wish her well
or give her a kiss. She looked miserable and sad. And she was a raging biatch.
To tell you the truth Cacee the annoying assistant was sooooo nice. Talked to me
the whole night like I was her best friend. As did the sister in law. She just
wanted no part of anyone but her parents. I think the both of them are good
actors and are putting on a serious front. Nick assistant is adorable. Maybe
there is something going on there.
Much better for way last......
My boss
and I were talking to Nick about exteneding his intro for Jessica by 30 secs. We
asked him what he wanted to say about her.
These are [Nick’s] exact
words...
"Let's see what could I say.......Do you really want me to tell
you...... Not too many nice things to say about her (this is [we] started
sweating and getting uncomfortable)... How about she was the best stocking I
ever stuffed?" He then proceeded to say, "She was the best Chimney I've ever
come down on."
What scared me about those comments, besides the obvious, is
that he was dead serious. His manager didn't even laugh. It wasn't said as a
joke. It was almost like he was pissed off. There was def. an edge to it. And
the talking in past tense really threw me off.
Bottom line is that her
parents have ruined her into this celebrity robot and because of that her
marriage sucks.
Can't say that I'm much of a fan anymore

via gawker

one of the record stores we saw in leslieville today had 100s of examples of music hall, cabaret, irish drinking songs, venacular folk, rerecorded and feild collected songs--and deitrich--plus blues and country.

it was all words and no music, want to go back.

& one more thing, the new mos def--is he in black face, a vv review of a new collection of minsterel music claimed he was...(i have a complicated aesthetic desire/political revulsion towards blackface--i appericate what it gave birth to, i even like the sounds sometimes, but of course isnt that like saying the nazis made the jews play good harmonica---or is it more sticky, b/c of the intergrated/segrated pushpullkickkill that occured w/i american music)

i have way too many odd puncations in that sentence.

http://www.stickershockmusic.com/

and i think this is sf/j music blog--which has hot new anglo/sri lankan hiphopper/electronica artist mashed up w. super mario brothers one week and the father of the hawaiian guitar (which sounds like ledbelly, and lomax--but that might be a chickenegg thing) in the same week.

my favourite part of tosches on minselstry is how he talked about hawaii, and how the guitar managed to come over v. early to america, and how easy it intergrated into african american r/b and country.

http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=495&e=1&u=/ap/20041204/ap_en_mu/tabernacle_choir

apparently god does not protect planes that go from slc to wales...god hates wales.
(mormon tabernacle choir refuses to fly there)

forgot where i got this

more about funk.

the problem w. the left is that they cannot deal w. the weirdness of miracles, and seek to destroy it w. logic.

the problem w. the right is that they are so dependent on literalism that any metaphorical reading, even in historical context, even w. proof texts become a threat.

andrew refused to even engage w. funk & jeff deigned to talk to me, only to point out the problem w. scienceism (postmans word)

and i want to believe funk, b/c metaphors and moabites are easier to handle then the idea of zombiejesus.

Konono No. 1"Ditshe Tshiekutala" (i hope the link works)
from this african mp3 blog: http://www.christopherporter.com/

contains:
tumb piano
rythym block
human voices
tamboruines
synth(s)
fuzzbox
drum machine
some other electronics i cannot id
djumbo
congas
tom toms
key boards
panpipes
saxophone
electronic guitar
electronic bass
standard western drum set, w. brushes
tin whistles
xylophone
steel drums
glass bottles


and it goes from quiet to louder and louder, simple to more and more complex, an almost logical narrative, each instrument layered, each one being able to be heard, like a pile of plexiglass boxes --it does go into a sort of frantic ecsatscy, but in that frenzy nothing is lost, everything remains with much delibrate care. (also acoustic to electronic)

its amazing

sasha free jones (brilliant pop journo for the new yorker) links to poet buddy dave motherfucking popshots who links to me.

i keep forgetting how small the web is.

(i should post about more serious things, more substantiol things--but weird gossip is more fun)

speaking of weird gossip--
pay attention to the ukraine tomorrow, the first province who might split has a vote.

alright its been a crazy busy last couple of days, so lets do this quickly

• moved from a shitty rooming house near bloor and dufferin to an even more shitty tenemant hotel in parkdale--more money, better neighbourhood. (the room has only a skylite, looks like an obulette, and is above an all hours muslim disco)
• lost 40 bux, room ransacked b/c all of the keys work on the same lock
• telemarket interview for globe and mail, w/i five seconds i was employeed and then not...emailed 5 resumes yesterday, 3 today (plus 4 phone calls)--one interview from crap tire master cards but the meeting is tomorrow in missiauga.
• light a candle for d's grandmother, who passed in saint catherines on friday.
• went out w. ray and colleen to leslieville, design stores mostly but an insane box of a vintage store, with 100s of hats (including a shiners fez) and dozens of vintage cameras
• the one gallery we saw had these tiny lovely voluminous cloudscapes that were painted with a black fields
• skyview diner has the best blts, red leatherette booths and eggnog milkshakes
• spent the night deriving w. rachel a couple of days ago, talking contemplating, slept over at her place.
• the guy at spin gallery promised to call fab on my behalf wrt to a writing gig (columinsit.)
• im scared.
• hungry again.
• tired.
• can someone pray for me!

i think i stole a loot bag from an opening today---just this odd feeling that the bags were intended for the elite, and i wasnt one of them.
but it had some really cool things: a stuffed crocodile, a plastic pig, a shiny silver capgun, a bad comic, a dvd of welcome to mooseport and it was in this bag that had a screen print of missy elliot
so im not feeling too bad

one of the provisions hidden in the 670 page no child left behind act, allows (ie forces) miltary recuriters into schools, with no recourse from the schools themselves.

this coming a week after the courts forbid this kind of activities on college campuses---interesting paradox, there...what is not allowed in colleges is allowed in jr/sr high schools.

(this info comes from mother jones, grain of salt.)