Clint Catalyst » Other Stuff

Retail Bliss (Oh No, But I Insist…)

Clint Catalyst — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 12:26:23 +0000

And here it is, December 26th. The Day After.

First and foremost, Congratulations! If you’re reading this, chances are you survived. However, for those of you whom “survival” just ain’t cuttin’ it, and you’re feeling less-than-satisfied with this year’s swag? While wild women descend upon shopping malls in the ultimate Quest To Find A Good Bargain, Damnit, please allow me to provide suggestions by a more civilized approach: The “F it—this one’s for me, and I’m packin’ plastic.” In the comfort of your own home, even!

That being said,

* From the Impeccably Curated A+R Store, LOOK UPON:

TOY ME’S

SILVER SCISSOR CUFF

It’s rare I wear dangly-spangly things on my wrist, but I would rock the shit outta this cuff…

:: GO AHEAD—INDULGE! :: WITH A SNIP, :: CLIP :: & CLICKITY-CLICK ::

* From the Cosmonomad Herself, ACQUIRE A PRINT by the multi-talented Zoetica Ebb.

Available now: “Inkdrops 007: The Endless Commission”

another option on —sumptuous velvet photo rag paper—

entitled “Cumulous Confection,” and

:: AVAILABLE FROM THE BIOREQUIEM SHOP :: (CLICK HERE!) ::

*Because sometimes the faux is infinitely more fascinating than what you already know:

by Shawna Kenney and photographer James Knoblauch (whose site seems to be down at the moment) chronicles Hollywood Blvd.’s “infamous nobodies” impersonating Somebodies or -things

:: FOR THE ‘REAL DEAL’ VIA AMAZON, :: CLICK HERE ::

or, support indie booksellers

and

:: CLICK HERE :: FOR SKYLIGHT BOOKS ::

Whew! There are several other goodies I intended to share for your retail/retinal pleasure, but truth is: I’m technologically-challenged, and this whole “HTML” thing? Takes me muuuuch longer than one would think. (Seriously? It’s pretty sad, guys.) I’ll have to post more suggestions later… As for now?

Color me Audi!

All Best— Cx

Found While Cruisin’ & Perusin’ Ye Olde World Wide Web

Clint Catalyst — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 13:35:36 +0000

I’m loving…

THIS:

:: fontasmic. :: orgasmic. ::

from

—for the love of type [dot] blogspot [dot] com—

Of Course,

THESE:

:: alabastrine :: wraiths ::

:: cursed :: with

“the fatal gift of beauty” :: [Byron]

— Manuel Albarran —

a most serendipitous find, indeed

—dazed digital [dot] com—

E N J O Y .

Whimsicle Social Media Fuckery (What’s.The.Deal?Who’s.For.Real? ☀ MySpace ☀IN YOUR FACE!)

Clint Catalyst — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 11:27:28 +0000

for “my best friends I’ve never met”:

“I just wanted to let you know that this is like, the only me… “

“O.K., I don’t photoshop my pictures. I’m just pretty, and you’re probably really ugly.”

⇓

:: Stop Stealing My Pictures! ::

⇑

*(Had to share these with you guys because
Shit is br00t4l! And uh, yeah…the alliterative name?
Published under it “way before MySpace.”
K4′s trademark symbol is a nice touch touch though, right?)

✮ ✬ ✮

The first clip is by Andrew Bravener;

The second? EffSwap.

✮ ✬ ✮

Whelp, I’ll be SCENE ya around!

No Kellogg’s Here This Week, Dears…(Flakety, Flake Flake!)

Clint Catalyst — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 20:43:25 +0000

Instead of clacking out details of the same tragic tale over and over in countless renditions, I could have/should have written a single blog and referred people to it. “Please see [URL LISTED HERE]“; “Actually, what happened was [AGAIN, URL LISTING]“; “Sincere apologies over my absence at your Beauty Pageant/Bat Mitzvah/Birthday Shin-Dig/Rice Pudding Tasting Party, but I [URL, URL, URL].” Sheet, I could have cheated and rocked a bit of “Cut & Paste” action, even! (Don’t you love busting friends who’ve hastily applied Ye Olde Command + C/Command + V without bothering to ixnay the sentiments of “Congrats On Your Graduation!!! Delta Vo-Tech’s Nothin’ To Sneeze At, Man,” “Be Sure & Tell Buck-Shot I’m Gonna Whoop His Ass At Pool Next Weekend,” and “Give Ernestine A Big Ol’ Wet One With Some Tongue…I Don’t Care What Anyone Says: Ain’t Nothin’ Wrong With Second Cousins, So Long As It’s Love!”

But who am I to do something sensible like–gasp!–make things easier for myself? It’s so much more fun clarifying tidbits of info “Re-Tweeted,” or elaborating on the “Heard-About-It-From-Blankety Blankerson-Who-Read-It-In-A-Bulletin-Post” of it all. Hell, it’s amusing in a “Gossip, v 2.0″ kind of way: rife with spontaneity…a sociological study, even!

Uh-huh. Right.

So here’s the deal: Monday morning I was in an automobile accident. Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t behind the wheel; I was a passenger.

How the accident occurred is “tl;dr.” Yes, I’ve worn myself out on the topic–and no, I won’t explain abbreviations that a quick cruise by google or urbandictionary.com will decipher from Millennial Newspeak, sorry.

What transpired in the wreck is why I’ve been out-of-commish. Despite the fact I was wearing my seatbelt, after it restrained me upon impact with the curb (hence the cracked rib and toxic Mountain Dew-yellow bruise outlining its position on my chest), that mandatory-by-law device “released” me for the coup de grace: namely, each vehicle reducing the other into the territory of Total Loss.

Hard-headed I may be, but the crack of my noggin that shattered the windshield?

Ripped out large chunks of my hair somethin’ fierce…and I don’t mean that exhausted sense of the phrase all too often accompanied by a snap!

Hrmm. Am I forgetting anything?

Looks Like A Party, Huh? And This Was After I Was “Cleaned-Up…”

Oh yeah: Lots of blood lost, a neck brace, my first ride in an ambulance (whee!), X-Rays, an MRI, abrasions everywhere from the center of my forehead to my ankles, and an on-going “phenomenon” in which my epidermis releases tiny slivers of glass. If anyone knows of a sideshow in need of a Human Pez Dispenser (with a marketable emphasis on “Danger! Danger! Danger!”), I shouldn’t be difficult to track down.

In other words? If it seems as if that unreturned phone call/email/tentative plan I haven’t followed-up on/social networking comment/request for me to ______, or even a simple “Thank You” to the latest subscribers on my humble YouTube channel is some hoity attempt at the infamous L.A. F-You?

You’ll have to issue a rain-check, I’m afraid. It’s been nothing but ice-picks hammering a symphony of pain in my brain, a continuous sensation comparable to a stack of cinderblocks on my chest, and prescription drugs that aren’t even fun, for F’s sake. (Seriously? I mean, SERIOUSLY.)

Back to bed once I zap this post without a single proof/read-through, but for those of you whom made it thus far?

Much Love & Mad Gratitude,

Clintasaurus Wrecks*

*the homo servin’ homophones…that is MOST CORRECT!