| mixtape/albert camus was algerian. |
[Feb. 19th, 2006|07:55 pm] |
Current mood: shivering slightly and thinking of bowler hats.
do you ever get really cold sitting at home wrapped in blankets and sipping english tea?
yeti - caribou
le song - electrelane
the jewels of madonna - red crayola
paperhouse - can
someone i care about - the modern lovers
you and i - silver apples
i have known love - silver apples
i feel voxish - the fall
film music - electrelane
velvet cave - silver apples
moonshake - can
drunken butterfly - sonic youth
mr youre on fire mr - liars
unconciously screamin - the flaming lips
here i go - syd barrett
kissing families - silversun pickups
romeos distress ii - christian death
pattern recognition - sonic youth
melody - blonde redhead
rebellious jukebox - the fall |
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| hmmmm... |
[Feb. 12th, 2006|12:56 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | . | ] |
| [ | music |
| | atom heart mother-pink floyd | ] |
kinda confused on what to do with myself.but this was interesting and wonderfully distracting.
"In The Andy Warhol Diaries, Warhol mentions that his Invisible Sculpture was on display at the New York club, Area, on Wednesday, May 8, 1985. (AWD648) However, according to Ronnie Cutrone, an Invisible Sculpture had earlier been done by himself and Warhol as an installation at the Factory during the years that Cutrone worked for Warhol as his painting assistant (1972 - 1983).
Ronnie Cutrone : "Andy wanted to make the Invisible Sculpture. I don't know what the inspiration for that was. He may have watched 'The Invisible Man' one night on television. So, again, we got out the Yellow Pages and found burglar alarms, different systems. Some with sound, some with light beams. They were all different looking and sculptural because they had different shapes and different systems. We mounted these burglar alarms on brackets all around the perimeter of the big room in the middle of the Factory, which was by then referred to not as the Factory but as Andy Warhol Studios. And we aimed them all at the center of the room where nothing existed.
If you walked into the room and you hit this center point, all of these alarms would go off. You'd have every different kind of sound; chirping, booming, buzzing. It was funny. But it was also a kind of existential abstract question: If a tree falls in the forest and there is nobody there to hear it, does it make a sound?... It was a brilliant conceptual work but also very physical because we actually had the mechanical alarms. It was like a kinetic sculpture in some way: a sound sculpture, a light sculpture. But there was nothing there; it was totally invisible...
The Invisible Sculpture stayed up for a long time, but it was experimental really. We only had it activated for maybe a month. It used to drive Fred crazy; it was almost like a practical joke. Andy and I would drag somebody in and say, 'This is the new art; go stand in the middle of the room.' And they would, and all the sirens would go off. Then Fred would come and say, 'Andy, I'm on the phone.' Or Brigid would yell. Everybody would yell because Andy and I were constantly having people walk into this imaginary space." (UW66)" |
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| uhhh... |
[Feb. 2nd, 2006|07:25 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | quite happy. | ] |
| [ | music |
| | : ) none.but AILD is AMAZING!!!!. | ] |
i like a boy woot.
ahahahhaha.
im sooo laaaameee.. |
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| oh god. |
[Jan. 30th, 2006|03:00 pm] |
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grits and vegetables for dinner. |
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| yeah |
[Jan. 26th, 2006|03:44 pm] |
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breaking my fingers on national television. |
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| test! |
[Jan. 25th, 2006|03:47 pm] |
 |
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| uhhhh.... |
[Jan. 24th, 2006|06:38 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | XREIGNOFTERRORX - o.yes.straightedge rap | ] |
theres a band called whole wheat bread. |
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| best part of yesterday. |
[Jan. 22nd, 2006|11:02 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | laughing. | ] |
| [ | music |
| | bright eyes - i watched you taking off. | ] |
greeley estates fan. "i hate my mom" yelled dystopia style by a blonde teenage guy fan behind me.so.beautiful. |
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| . |
[Jan. 21st, 2006|04:49 pm] |
when i hav a house of my own i want a garden that i will plant with beautiful flowers and fence in and then i will let it overgrow and have a secret garden.yeah. |
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| best parts of my day. |
[Jan. 17th, 2006|09:59 pm] |
"i have nixon's piano in my living room"
"put your ipod on your cheeks.the sound's clearer." "how did you discover this?" "i was playing my guitar lying under a pillow.sound travels better through solid objects." |
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| stories and texts for nothing//samuel beckett excerpts. |
[Jan. 16th, 2006|05:03 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | rather complacentish. | ] |
| [ | music |
| | all tomorrow's parties - vu | ] |
...the expression of candid misery, showing the stars and the distaff.
and if i went back to where all went ou tand on from there, no, that would lead nowhere, never led anywhere, the memory of it has gone out too, a great flame and then blackness, a great spasm and then no more weight or traversable space.
i tried throwing me off a cliff, collapsing in the street in the midst of mortals, that led nowhere, i gave up.
there is no flesh anywhere, nor any way to die.
there is only me, this evening, here, on earth, and a voice that makes no sound because it goes towards none, and a head strewn with arms laid down and corpses fighting fresh, and a body.
or its a room, with furniture, all that's required to make life comfortable, dark, because of the wall outside the window.
to breathe is all that is required, there is no obligation to ramble, or recive company, you may even believe yourself dead...what more liberal regimen could be imagined, i don't know, i don't imagine.
why did pozzo leave home, he had a castle and retainers.
the sea too, i am conversant with the sea too, it belongs to the same family, i have even gone to the bottom more than once, under various assumed names, don't make me laugh, if only i could laugh, all would vanish
yes, i see the scene, i see tha hand, it comes creeping out of shadow, the shadow of my head, then scurries back, no connexion with me.
long live all our phantoms, those of the dead, those of the living and those of those who are not born
i'll follow him, with my sealed eyes, he needs no door, needs no thought, to issue from this imaginary head, mingle with air and earth and dissolve, little by little, in exile.
elsewhere, what elsewhere can there be to this infinite here?
blot, words can be blotted and the mad thoughts they invent, the nostalgia for that slime where the Eternal breathed and his son wrote, long after, with divine idiotic finger, at the feet of the adultress, wipe it out, all you have to do is say you said nothing and so say nothing again
what can have become then of the tissues i was, i can see them no more, feel them no more, flaunting and fluttering all about and inside me, pah they must be still on their old prowl somewhere, passing themselves off as me
revelling in the flying instants, riot of instants
the paradig, of human kind..co mplete with ...a carcass in God's image and a contemporary skull
ENOUGH VILE PARROT I'LL KILL YOU.
ahahahahaha
all cities are not eternal..!
or for day to break behind the locked door, through the glass black with the dust of ruin.
time has turned into space and there will be no more time
and time begin again, the steps on the earth, the night the fool implores at morning and the morning he begs at evening not to dawn
all is inexplicable, space and time, false and inexplicable
im here in this black silence
with every plunge and suck of the sky a little more overripe.
a bowler hat which seems to my sorrow a sardonic synthesis of all those that never fitted me and, at the other extremity, similarly suspicious, a complete pair of brown boots lacerated and gaping
these insignia...advance in concert...confirmed by the vast show windows
or answers to a question not understood, a question unspoken, in the eyes of a mute, an idiot, who doesn't understand, never understood, who stares at himself in a glass, stares before him in the desert, sighing yes, sighing no, on and off.
thats right, wordshit, bury me, avalanche, and let there be no more talk of any creature, nor of a world to leave, nor of a world to reach, in order to have done, with worlds, with creatures, with words, with misery, misery.
quickening my step, so as to arrive before the next onsluaght, as though it were on time I trod.
There's a way out there, there's a way out somewhere, the rest would come, the other words, sooner or later, and the power to get there, and the way to get there, and pass out, and see the beauties of the skies, and see the stars again.
still young in the midst of ruins
the long silent guffaw of the knowing non-exister
confess you're not the man you were, you'll end up riding a bicycle.
That's the accountants' chorus, opining like a single man, and there are more to come, all the peoples of the earth would not suffice, at the end of the billions you'd need a god, unwitnessed witness of witnesses, what a blessing its all down the drain, nothing ever as much as begun, nothing ever but nothing and never, nothing ever but lifeless words.
born of the impossible voice the unmakable being, and a gleam of light, still all would be silent and empty and dark, as now, as soon now, when all will be ended, all said, it says, it murmers
GO WHERE TIME PASSES AND ATOMS ASSEMBLE AN INSTANT |
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| barbara steele. |
[Jan. 14th, 2006|04:11 pm] |
i kinda wish i looked like her.ive never really thought about that about an actress before.she was definitely my favorite character in 8 1/2.
 |
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| 8 1/2 |
[Jan. 14th, 2006|03:44 pm] |
lifes a celebration.lets live it together! |
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| epilepsy.ian curtis. |
[Jan. 14th, 2006|02:19 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | joy division.i love them. | ] |
Confusion in her eyes that says it all
She's lost control
And she's clinging to the nearest passer-by
She's lost control
And she gave away the secrets of her past and said
I've lost control again
And of a voice that told her when and where to act, she said
I've lost control again
And she turned to me and took me by the hand and said
I've lost control again
And how I'll never know just why or understand, she said
I've lost control again
And she screamed out, kicking on her side and said
I've lost control again
And seized up on the floor
I thought she'd die, she said
I've lost control
She's lost control again
She's lost control
Well I had to phone her friend to state her case and say
She's lost control again
And she showed up all the errors and mistakes and said
I've lost control again
But she expressed herself in many different ways
Until she lost control again
And walked upon the edge of no escape and laughed
I've lost control
She's lost control again
She's lost control |
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| i support fat bob,. |
[Jan. 14th, 2006|02:02 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | apathetic. | ] |
| [ | music |
| | the cure - in your house. | ] |
the lovecats was written on lsd..
and its about a suicide love pact.
Into the sea
You and me
yeah., |
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