Alright, so...for an overview of boxEIGHT's "This Ain't Mercedes Benz Fashion Week" 
this last/past Fashion Week (Spring 2009)
in L.A.,
Check it—

(Madness Courtesy of Altitude TV)

Clickity click for coverage of me "giving word" at boxEIGHT studios
with appearances from:
Peter Gurnz, Dirk Mai (formerly known as "Fingers Crossed"), Audrey Kitching,
Lina Lecaro, Sammy from The Kids, "G," and Vanessa Gonzales——
along with the work of Yotam Solomon, Brian Lichtenberg
and other high-octane fabulousness.

Truth be told, anticipation of Mr. Lichtenberg's show
is what got me "in outfit" and out of the house,
so I find it only apropos
to highlight his latest work
before transitioning into the next topic...

O.K., now that we've had a bit of
'the spandex strut' that has garnered Mr. Lichtenberg notoriety
(with good reason—-this show did not disappoint,
and those effing hats and headpieces still SLAUGHTER me...)
*~ Slaughtering, I say! ~*~ S-L-A-U-T-E-R-I-N-G ~*

Still, there's a shifting of gears // a bit of backstory:

The Altitude video was shot on Friday, October the 17th--
when I was (admittedly) full of more "piss and vinegar"*
than I was by Sunday eve.

*Thanks for the vernacular, granny.  MEAN IT!

I mean, c'mon: when do I deny the fact that I'm a dinosaur
among the (AHEM!) "scene"?

Consequently, my pal Gabriele and I
nearly "pulled a Frankenstein" and bolted after the Rojas show:
false eyelashes were wilting, and enthusiasm was becoming an act
as difficult to keep up
as the Chet B headpiece I'd tacked onto my noggin...

Fashion Troopers: Gabriele and Clint Await the Final boxEIGHT Show (Spring 2009)

Then—a moment passed, only to be eaten by the next:
a narcotic rush painted with such poetic visual precision,
we were consumed by it.

Kucoon Fashion Show/Performance -- Spring 2009 Collection
(Part One : the First Half)

Please forgive: this video clip kicks in once I'd rummaged through
my recycled rubber "murse" and acquired my little cam
in medias res,

as I wasn't, well...anticipating the need to record anything.

Hence, I do admit the reactions one might overhear 'off screen'
aren't exactly eloquent.
However, that's one of the reasons why I opt to express myself
via pen, paper or notebook
(be it college-lined or of the G4 ilk).

What often is a more animated, base manner
exploding like confetti from inside of me
Is but a temporal human response: those mannerisms/
histrionic outbursts and the like...

(Oh, C'MON already! In layman's terms?
Reminders that I'm a FLAWED HUMAN BEING
who entertains himself by being "ornery!"

Consider that my frickin' First Step or something.
All right?)

 

(…and Here’s Part Two of the Visual Treats)

For instance: theoretically,
If I were to "bum rush" the designers
backstage
for an impromptu interview...

my antics and semantics with
Sheila B and Andrea Spratt, the duo responsible for
the cornea-melting jewelry/design
under the moniker Kucoon—

well,

I'd be calm, mild-mannered and
an inveterate pro with technical equipment.

(Or at least that's how I'd intend it to seem
via a little 'revisionist re-write.')

Hyperbole, active verbs and sparkling consonants...
Why not chronicle life as colorfully as one sees
or makes it out to be?

And on that tip,
the rhetorical questions continue with a nudge
and a "Why don't you go ahead and hit up the personal site
of my latest favorite find among the 'newbies'
here in Smog City?"

www.kucoondesigns.com

There's nada there for the xy set in terms of PERSONAL "consumer consumption,"
(Love that Lily Allen!)
 but that by no means is an indication any gent with impeccable taste
will be at a loss in terms of visual stimulation.
Ya with me?
As in, "Hrmm, that'd look really great on ______________."

Everything moves with such heightened velocity this time of the year,
a person might as well start shopping now:
It seems like as soon as we scrub off the Halloween make-up and blink
it's already SANTA TIME
yet again...

Insofar as the 'stand out' piece among the site? 

The Amethyst Stalactite earrings are such stunners;
in an alternate life—one in which I have scads of dinero
and zilch insofar as student loans—

I'd buy a pair and turn one into a necklace,
the other into a brooch.

Fashion is all about fantasy, anyway—
here's but one of the ways mine come to fruition.

Bring on the images
and I'll find the words...

O.K., before I have to dial whine-one-one for the waaaahmbulance, please allow me to throw down a disclaimer in hopes that I’ll spare even a single set of phalanges out there clacking terse comments about how I “really need to post this type of information while issues are still on the newsstands…” [ad nauseum, ad nauseum; cue vomitorium]

‘Cause hey—guess what?

I really need to post this shit in a more expeditious manner, man.

Just so happens that–ahem–I might very well have a few issues of my own to deal with. (One of which is the preposition by which the previous sentence just ended, dangling like an unworn pair of silver Les Chiffoniers’ leggings aching for the latest Girl of the Moment to slide into them before dashing out to paint the town bloodshot. It’s as inherent a pairing as Edie Segwick hopped-up on a fistful of whites and having her coiff spray painted Just For The F Of It while donning Balenciaga originials. What other lack of logic explains the perfect sense it makes to purchase what’s essentially a thick pair of pantyhose with a thousand dollar price tag? Not really…but REALLY, babes.)

But oh, that’s but a footnote of damage from a former version of myself in which I worked as a technical writer. A footnote among essays within archives buried deep inside some virtual boneyard we’ll call The Chronicles of the Clintasaurus and opt to visit some other time just dust our hands of it.

.kthanxbai.

At least all this self-aggrandizing material is contained within a single post. Couldn’t give two turds about what ‘they’ might have said about me?

Scroll on; scroll on!

“Does Not Exist.”

What does exist, nonetheless, on the other acrylic claw:

Recent media in which I appear–sometimes but a smidgen; luckier instances full effing-on.

For instance, the following pic and mention in H Magazine is a case of what might be deemed “peripheral press.” Or, to utilize the vernacular of savvy SoCal realtors in sensible shoes: an “adjacent feature.”

And insofar as my image—the look I ‘turned out’* for bits and pieces of my soul to be sacrificed via Glenn’s manipulation of the bulky/beautiful Polaroid Big Shot favored by Warhol himself?

*’turned out’ by no means appropriating cred as if this was my own creation! Au contraire, it was the make-up of Stacey Humell; the cut/color/extensions of scissormeister Irene Urias of Hairroin, Hollywood’s hottest salon (www.hairroinsalon.com), and–excluding the Westwood brooch–another cerebellum-melding, history-making, custom couture creation by the genius Jared Gold

(moving right along…)

Big deal if I’m “giving away too many of my secrets” by sharing this delicious little inside joke—it friggin’ slaughters me how many people took the ‘pomp and pout’ of the picture at face value. I mean, if I’m going to rock an outfit, hair and make-up that ostentatious… how could I not get “in character”?

What ELSE would I do? Smile like a politician and “compassionately” hold a stranger’s baby?

And in the meantime, reword “Let Them Eat Cake” into something more…inclusive…in tone?

yeahRIIIGHT.

It’s like this: one wink or nudge of the elbow during the Polaroid shoot, or Nhat Nguyen’s studio takes thereafter in which I “amped the prance” so high; by foppish standards it was even off-the-charts, or even a single word cluing in ‘The Children’ a la Interwebz? (No worries now: it’s been months… and while it’s a hasty generalization, yes: gnats have better attention spans than they do, for the most part.)

Let’s face the music, sweetcheeks:

Simply wouldn’ta worked.

Art versus Artifice // Appearance versus Reality // Truth Revealed Through a Guise // Everything Is “Real”—Though What Of It Is Lies?

So many motifs swirling around in my head like a majorette’s glitter-fringed baton at half-time…

Yet all of them beg the question, it seems:

Exactly who or what is this ‘Clint Catalyst’ supposed to be, anyway?

And why would it even matter if he (and I) weren’t among the ‘Lucky Ones’ in Flaunt magazine, issue 96?

I’ll tell ya what it was like when I spot-checked the (who cares if it’s a mere thumb-nail sized) pic, standing there, thumbing through the pricey pages in the Echo Park 7-11:

the second I saw my little powder blue top hat (by L.A.’s premier Gothic Cholita, Creepsuela Switchletto: “big ups” to my shiv-wieldin’ glamour sis), I felt a surge of validation sweep over me like the frost-bitten clouds fleeing a freezer behind me as some nameless faceless customer opened then sealed shut the door.

No doubt this earth-shattering, molar-splitting, life-changing moment is fraught with layers of meaning… but c’mon, isn’t everything? (Unless, of course, it’s deconstructed to the bloodless core of nothingness—but that’s so Small-Town-Liberal-Arts-School-Curriculum-For-30K+-A-Year-Of-Make-Believe, I’d rather just ‘keep it real’ and say

Mostest Massive thanks to Photographer Melissa Manning and Flaunt magazine!

Shit you nunca, y’all: that was wickedcool of you, and was “Really Saying Something…”

[Fun.Boy.Three.From.This.One.Here.]

Verbose? Hell yes. I conquer “tl;dr” pussywillows one paragraph at a time—deal with it, or head off for culturally-stimulating activities like an episode of “Cops” or a Budweiser-fueled swirly-go-’round-and-then-down on the Sunset Strip’s Mechanical Bull.

“I.D.G.I,” arseholians. (Said, of course, with the deepest affection…)

Besides: this is kind of like, my diary…yo?

All the same, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell you, though: the printwork I’m most stoked about as of late is a two-page editorial in the latest Lipstick Prophets catalog/magazine.

Here’s one of the images from the spread…

Copies are available through LipstickProphets.com for a scant 2 1/2 bones — and that’s with free shipping and handling, dearlings.

With the American economy in the shitter as it is, at least somebody’s followed my lead regarding “Other Humanitarian Acts That Require Little or No Effort.”

The Clint’s Notes version?

Have passport; will travel. ‘Handling’ is subjective terminology best discussed in lush, exotic locales—and, as with everything else in life, varies from individual to individual (all the while assured that we’re treated equally: It is, after all, the American Way!).

Air Kisses and Ass Kissing,

CC “Giving You” L.A.

in the best of

worst of

ways

(and vice-versa)

And motherfucking still working on it:

O.K.?

…andthankyou.

x o x

Rather than start another blog only to scrap it out of frustration–I’m working on getting my new manuscript together, among other things–I thought it only apropos to share what life has been like for some of my ‘other’ personalities…

\”Clawz\” by Suren from Strange Angel Films

So here I am, testing out this new blog. The Webmistress has introduced me to Wordpress, so of course I wanna see what it’s all about.

However, Full Disclaimer:

(visual art by Glenn Arthur)

*Thing is: I have to “own it”—sure, it’s lachrymose. It’s of the Things Are Very Serious school, the stacks-of-bipolar-poems strewn about. But here’s the deal: it’s not like me to hide what I fear might be mocked. I mean, I view it differently after 7 hours of zzzzs—though that doesn’t change the moment, the cheeks-burning-crimson over what developed, the cadence that’s captured in this emotional Polaroid.

Said another way? I meant it. Not really, but really meant it at the time.