I finally got around to upgrading to Movable Type 2.63. Next on my to do list? A long overdue redesign.
Lately I've been thinking pink, for the first time in my life—my favorite color's been black for as long as I can remember! I blame the gloomy weather, plus Mich, Mika and, of course, Jane.
The masterpiece above is Picasso One Eyed Wing Ding Thing by Deeci from tamponart.com, which has a great mission statement:
Tampon Art is a transformation. Our history has been women bleeding, being isolated, being shamed, and being diapered in rags. But now, we have the opportunity of utilizing an internal absorbent, not just for convenience during menstruation, but for having fun and making art. Out from the mud comes the lotus flower. From the blood and pain comes Tampon Art, an alchemy of the human spirit. It is rare for a process that has such a profound negative, even taboo status, to transform its control mechanism into art. Who would have guessed that such amazing creations would be possible from a tampon?
[ via Geisha asobi ]
Grant Barrett has his experiences of the February 15 rally up on World New York in a photo gallery and a long essay.
Best line of all's from the introduction to the photo gallery: "A young boy cried on a side street, afraid of the crowds and the noise, his mother clutching him and petting his head, saying, "It’s for you, honey. It’s for you.""
"Dogs in cars does exactly what it says on the tin. Photos of dogs... in cars." I love the world wide web.
You can see my dog in a car at The Mirror Project.
Elizabeth mentioned one of my favorite passages from Pattern Recognition in passing the other day, so I thought I'd put the whole paragraph up here for your reading pleasure:
My God, don't they know? This stuff is simulacra of simulacra of simulacra. A diluted tincture of Ralph Lauren, who had himself diluted the glory days of Brooks Brothers, who themselves had stepped on the product of Jermyn Street and Savile Row, flavoring their ready-to-wear with liberal lashings of polo knit and regimental stripes. But Tommy surely is the null point, the black hole. There must be some Tommy Hilfiger event horizon, beyond which it is impossible to be more derivative, more removed from the source, more devoid of soul. Or so she hopes, and doesn't know, but suspects in her heart that this in fact is what accounts for his long ubiquity.
If it doesn't make you curious about Pattern Recognition I'm not sure what will—just go buy the book already!
This photo just makes me so happy, I think I could look at it all day. Many thanks to Graham for posting it.
Choco Choco House handcrafts teeny tiny chocolate truffle handbags in Boston—double whammy if you're a fashionista with a sweet tooth!
[ via DailyCandy ]
Hi to BDF!
Right after he has apparently slid down a flagpole (a strong reference to receiving anal sex), he finds himself in the proverbial sewers, already feeling a deep low from his initial hits wearing off. But after more anal sex, he is high in the mountains, which psychadelically appear as gigantic mushrooms, an obvious result of his hallucinatory state. And then, after even more anal sex, he finds himself in a castle, but it is of his own imagination, built up of his drug-induced isolation, for at the end he thinks he has confronted the kingpin Koopa, but he quickly finds that it is but another hallucination, merely a pusher goomba, though he only discovers this after, in a drug-crazed rage, he kills this apparition of his nemesis.
That, of course, if the mention of Koopa didn't clue you in, is from "Super Mario Brothers: A Literary Criticism", which is currently rocking my nerdy videogame-playing english undergraduate degree world.
[ via provenance: unknown ]
The February issue of PageDown is up for your viewing pleasure.
You'd have to be from Manila to understand why it's so cheeky, but I like page 15 best. Bastus ni Jayson a!
From Mitsu's account of the blizzard:
"... I said to her "At first I thought he didn't know what he was doing, but he did." She remarked, "In New York, it's the crazy people who know what they're doing, and the normal people who don't know how to do anything."
Oh but how this graphic from last week's issue of The Onion reminds me of all the losers I've ever met who spend their weekends hanging around Virramall, doing pretty much the same things they were doing there ten or more years ago in high school.
My imaginary friend J.Bu's excellent weblog raccoon recently changed locations for the better so please pay him a visit at his new digs and update your bookmarks.
Sorry for the late recap, I think I'm still a little starstruck, but for those of you wondering how the William Gibson reading went: it was great. As Jessamyn said when she saw him in Seattle earlier in the month:
Gibson is poised and interesting. He's a good reader, he's used to crowds, and he tells funny stories and deftly answers even the most stupid questions. I am always happy when I see writers treating the peanut galleries that show up at these things with respect. I mean, it's sort of wry and hip to be snarky when the hundredth person asks you where you get your ideas, but it takes a special talent to answer that question in a way that is not only interesting for you, but interesting for your audience. Everyone feels richer for the experience. Gibson had that kind of class.
Only ten people or so got to ask questions because the B&N people were determined to hurry things along—half of the questions were just plain dumb, the worst of all from a guy who suggested Gibson should change the way he writes his dialogue; he hadn't been talking for five seconds before everyone realized what he was up to and a massive collective groan rolled through the room. I'm sorry, Mr Gibson, but New York being New York we have a surfeit of self-absorbed idiots, their numbers only rivaled by those in Los Angeles and D.C.
Anyway, I got to talk to him after all for a few minutes while having my books signed, amazing because when confronted with people I've long admired my brain usually turns into mush and I become incapable of conversation. I asked about the wild tie he was wearing ("It's apophenia," was the answer) and apologized because I knew his hand must be cramping already, but I brought some other books along and would he mind signing them as well? Especially Idoru, my favorite of all his books. He said no, actually he was very glad to see them and especially happy because Idoru's his favorite one too. Which I already knew from reading his blog but it was still nice to hear that from him in person.
I finished reading Pattern Recognition when I got home that night, having picked it up at the store and gotten halfway through it while waiting for the reading, and after one read through I think it's safe to say it's my second favorite Gibson, sandwiched between Idoru and All Tomorrow's Parties. The denouement was a bit disappointing, too fast and rather too easy, but I liked it nonetheless and recommend it highly, even if you've never read any Gibson before, and especially if you've never read any good science fiction before or are one of those silly people who totally avoid the genre because you think it's all about men in space suits tinkering with gadgets and fighting aliens. Pick it up, you won't be sorry you did.
Kylie Minogue fansite Kylie Fever is closing down and the domain name's going up for sale, boo hiss. Even if you aren't a fan you should still head on over there to take a look at the amazing collection of photos while you still can—Kylie's worked with many a fantastic photographer over the years, and their considerable talents plus the fact that she's scorching hot makes for quite the load of gorgeous images.
Police are baffled by the scene, which included a cryptic note on a bathroom mirror in lipstick reading "I hate you Skeleton Warrior! Die! Die! Die!"
An [INS] officer, says Cruz, suggested she had bought [her passport] in Sri Lanka and asked how much it cost her.
Cruz says an officer also asked here why her surname was not "Singh" and commented that it was clever of her to use a Spanish name. Cruz, who is separated from her husband, says she told the officers that her maiden name is Fernandez. It's not uncommon for Indian-born people to have Portuguese surnames, but the officers didn't seem to care, she says.
"They said, `You better tell the truth because we know this is not a valid Canadian passport. We'll throw you in jail,'" Cruz recalled.
Berna Cruz was flying home to Toronto via Chicago when the INS detained her, said her Canadian passport was fake (it wasn't) and ruined it, refused her access to the Canadian embassy (illegal under the Vienna Convention, something the US takes serious offense to when one of its citizens is detained in another country) or any other opportunity to verify her identity and deported her to India. She's determined to raise hell about it, bless her heart.
Is Flying While Brown the new Driving While Black?
I'm linking to this Ananova story about mathematicians working out the formula for the perfect Bond only partly to say how much I wish I had a job that cushy—mainly it's so I can repost the yummy photo of Diana Rigg they decided to run with it, bless their sensationalist little hearts.
I went to Central Park this evening to sled with Shannon but alas, the blizzard had dumped so many inches of fresh snow that it was way too much work for us to climb up the slopes more than thrice. So we went for a long walk instead, dragging our sleds while a little dog walked behind us:
I love The Simpsons and I love obsessives (without whom the world wide web would be incredibly boring and googling no fun), so it's only natural that I also love this collection of custom Simpsons action figures. Beetlejuice Homer and Homer as Dr Frankenfurter are my absolute favorites, but there are so many great ones; make sure to check out Martian Manhunter Barney, Patty as Amidala, Joker Krusty and (especially if, like me, you adore the geezer) Riddler Burns.
[ via Speckled Paint, recommended by The Bradlands ]
A tall in her late twenties dressed in what I can only describe as financial district goth and her nondescript male companion are standing behind me on the 1 train.
: I'm wearing Donna Karan, Imitation of Christ, Diesel and Doc Martens. Who do you have on?
Boy: (silence)
: (peers down at his outfit) DKNY?
Boy: (silence)
: So I have on this great group of designers.
Sometimes I really hate people.
I found Baghdad Snapshot Action incredibly moving and I hope you will too:
On February 13, 2003, teams of artists and activists began postering New York City with snapshots from Baghdad. Quiet and casual, the snapshots show a part of Baghdad we rarely see: the part with people in it.
The snapshots were taken by a friend of ours who just got back from Baghdad working with the Iraq Peace Team. Yes, he saw Iraqis suffering and struggling. But he also saw Iraqis dancing and laughing. This moved him because laughing under the weight of the UN sanctions and the threat of an absurd war is no easy task. We were moved because the people in the pictures remind us of our friends & family.
Thousands of snapshot posters now pepper Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens.
We want to show New York the people who will get both liberty and death in one fatal stroke if this war begins. We want you to show them in your city. The entire snapshot collection is online as pdfs. Print them out and poster them anywhere and everywhere.
[ via psychicpants.net ]
Sharon Osbourne: "Always be with the one you love. To me, that's the most romantic thing of all."
Ozzy Osbourne: "I hate fucking holidays like Valentine's Day. It's all bullshit. Don't send cards or any of that fucking nonsense. Treat your mate special every day of the year and get her gifts for no special occasion. That's the fucking best."
From "Fifteen Theses On the Cute" by Frances Richard:
Draw a circle, and ray out from it the abject, the melancholic, the wicked, the childlike. Now in the zones between add the erotic, the ironic, the narcotic, and the kitsch. Inter-sperse the Romantic/Victorian, the Disney/ consumerist, and the biologically deterministic. At the center of this many-spoked wheel lies a connective empty space. Label it CUTE.
[ via consumptive.org ]
In related news, J-List says that the factory that manufactures the infamous Hello Kitty, um, massager has stopped production, so you'd better get one while you still can.
these days, i have become a sausage junky.
i admit it.
i know it cannot be healthy.
both physically or metaphysically.i find myself driving to home depot on saturdays under the guise of home improvement, when all i really want is to stop at the filthy little vendor in front of the store, buy a hot italian sausage, and drown it in hot sauce...
From "The Agony And Ecstacy of Tubed Meat" by archiedavis, who is one of my all-time favorite LJ reads.
Newsbreak writer Aries Rufo went with the title "Sins of The Father" for this piece, but I like to go with sensationalist titles in my head, so I'm calling it "When Good Priests Go Bad: How to Fuck Around On Someone Else's Dime and Get Away With It":
In the early morning of April 29, 2002, a man in a white polo barong carrying an attaché case came out of a two-floor apartment in a middle-class subdivision in Antipolo. It was around 5 a.m., the neighbors were still asleep, and the sound of a Honda V-Tec being revved up broke the morning calm.
Nearby, in the same subdivision, another man woke up upon hearing the noise from the car. He had fallen asleep after casing the apartment for hours. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he finally saw his quarry. He asked God "why [He] made me witness to this awful situation."
Two days later, this other man, a Catholic parishioner of Makati, sent a scathing letter to Bishop Crisostomo Yalung of the Diocese of Antipolo, asking him to explain what business he had in the apartment. The Makati parishioner said that what he saw confirmed the nasty rumor that Bishop Yalung had a kept woman heavy with his child.
This is my favorite part:
Makati parishioners and Yalung’s friends felt betrayed when they found out the affair.
Some criticized Church officials for not being straightforward about the issue. They felt that Yalung’s exile in the US was part of a cover-up.
"Where is transparency there? They are so quick in denouncing corruption and lack of transparency in government yet they themselves are not transparent," one said.
If I wasn't an atheist I'd say amen to that. Heck, maybe I will anyway.
If you're in New York, don't forget to head down to the Union Square Barnes & Nobles tomorrow before 7 p.m. to hear William Gibson read from Pattern Recognition.
"I still can't believe they named that thing the fuckin' USA PATRIOT ACT. Grown-ups did that. Never forget that."
Page nineteen of Get Your War On is out, kids.
My friend Adriana recently started her own blog, after much prodding from many sectors. The question now is, what do we have to do to get Adriana to not be so stingy with Stingy Kids updates?
Small Dog Electronics is giving a 12" Powerbook G4s away this July at Macworld and if you don't register for your chance to win right now, well, you are insane.
P.S. If you do win, an iPod would be quite the lovely thank you for the pointer gift. I'm just saying.
If you're in Manila, please consider supporting the local Poets for Peace Read-In—it's this Wednesday, February 12, 7 p.m. at Encomium Café (2nd floor of the FBR building on Katipunan, in front of Ateneo). For more information on this event or for directions to the café, you can write info at wisecraft dot net or give them a call at 433-0165.
In an attempt to erase the stigma of a bloody episode that has haunted the revolutionary movement for decades, the central committee of the Communist Party of the Philippines has admitted that the infamous "cleansing purge" that the party conducted during the late 1980s was a grave error.
"In the thoroughgoing review conducted on all cases in general and on each individual case, the committee came to the conclusion that there was no solid basis to suspect and arrest the 55 comrades who were accused of being enemy infiltrators," the committee said in a statement released recently by the party's information bureau.
It added that "there was no basis whatsoever" for the execution of a number of those who were purged.
The CPP now considers the victims of the bloody purge "martyrs of the revolution."
I'm sure that last bit makes all the loved ones they left behind feel so much better, don't you?
Someone remind me again why we still care what Joma Sison and the CPP say? Oh wait, I just remembered: I don't care.
subway to Times Square and back: $3.00
two large plastic toboggans at Toys "R" Us: $30.29
fun sledding in Central Park with your dog and a friend: PRICELESS
I downloaded Drew's mp3s more than two months ago but never got around to giving them a good listen until last week—silly me, because they are excellent, every single one.
Don't feel like getting them all at once or can't for whatever reason? Then get my favorite song, "City Hall".
Welcome to the world, Raimi! I'm so sorry it's such a mess right now but hopefully we'll whip it into better shape before you're old enough to read the newspaper by yourself.
P.S. A few hours earlier and we could've shared a birthday!
It snowed in the city today, about four inches by the afternoon, and so we spent twice as much time in the dog run than we usually do because a certain someone loves to play in the powder—the deeper and colder the better! Meanwhile I've got five layers on and still feel like a popsicle.
I find what Noynoy Aquino and Imee Marcos have to say about EDSA seventeen years on in the latest issue of Newsbreak very interesting (especially , clearly the sharpest and most media-savvy of her siblings), but man do I want to shake the living daylights out of this Ben Olivas person who says "it was all worth it for the nation" when he now lives and works in San Francisco and out of the editor who solicited the piece from him instead of the thousands of interesting people who are children of key EDSA players and have chosen to stay in the Philippines to help make things better instead of leaving like rats fleeing from a sinking ship.
But maybe that's just me being cranky. Maybe.
Did you pinch your singit for peace yesterday?
February 12 is Poetry Against the War Day:
American Wars
Like the topaz in the toad's head
the comfort in the terrible histories
was up front, easy to find: Once upon a time in a kingdom far away.
Even to the dreadful now of news
we listened comforted
by far timezones, languages we didn't speak,
the wide, forgetful oceans.
Today, no comfort but the jewel courage.
The war is ours, now, here, it is our republic
facing its own betraying terror.
And how we tell the story is forever after.-- Ursula K. Le Guin
[ via wood s lot ]
For those of you using NetNewsWire or other rss news readers, you can now subscribe to the cheesedip.com rss feed.
I actually set it up very late one night a few months ago and promptly forgot about it till very late last night, and thus it may have some kinks in it I never got to work out, so if you see any please let me know!
Sometimes people are so dangerously ignorant it's frightening:
Just got back from a quick run to the nearest Duane Reade for some essential supplies:
1) one pint of Ben & Jerry's,
2) one Twix bar,
3) one Snickers bar,
and
4) one box of Tampax.
Ladies and gents, I am a walking cliché.
lille: have you read viggo's work?
lia: viggo writes?
lille: YES!!! and PAINTS!
lille: and is a PHOTOGRAPHER!!! He has books and exhibits and I'm soooo fucking in luuuuuuuuuuuuhhhve.
lia: shit!
lille: + he was married to exene cervenka!!!!!!!
lia: but who is exene cervenka?
lille: the lead singer of seminal 70s feminist punk band X
lia: so viggo must be old old old
lille: born in 1958
lia: WOW
lille: 8 years older ang mom ko
lille: he could be my dad
lille: HOT
lia: viggo is older than charlson ong! and almost as old as butch dalisay!
lille: eWWWWWWWWWWWWW
lille: that's so fucking wrong
lille: shet please don't mention viggo and butch in the same sentence
lille: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
I am a cruel, cruel friend.
Prophecy Magazine sounds like something The Boy and anyone else with more than a passing interest in sequential art should pick up.
If you're in Manila and you want to get a copy, your best bet is to badger the wonderful people at CCHQ to place an order, which I'm sure they will. If you love comics, please find your way to Katipunan and check CCHQ out—not only do they have an excellent selection but the owners are happy to go out of their way to make sure you have a great in-store experience.
Unlike, say, Comic Quest or Filbar's, where the salespeople and owners gleefully ignore you unless you're a regular, most especially if you look poor or if you're a . Stop giving these people your money, especially not now that you can go to people who see you as more than just a walking wallet and will treat you right.
