I†† [ eye doublecross ] is not just a band;
they’re “a low-fi hypersigil, casting spells in various mediums .”
[CUE EXAGGERATED SHRUG]
Cool by me, brah.
Though when I discovered the basis for “Cø††øN”—
the latest single the duo conjured & released into the world
was [quote] “influenced by [ my book ] Cottonmouth Kisses” ?
Well, the excitement level racheted a bit Richter,
not gonna lie. . .
Then, upon hearing the track?
That’s when the really good news occurred.
I like it.
« © »
As in : I mean —
I really, really like it.
No need to elaborate, nor to “re-visit”. . .
but we’ve all had at least one friend whose
band/stand-up comedy act/spoken word performance —
[ thought I'd keep the playing field fair ]
Y E A H .
You get it/You get it/You get it
Amidst the deafening silence & painful anecdotes that aren’t being shared at this moment,
here’s what is :
C H E C K · I T !
. . . & them ♥
[ I†† : OFFICIAL SITE ]
« © »
Ah, but you know I’ve gotta ‘get on up in’
this GIFtastic action!
[ a mere clicky-link away : H I T · I T & G E T · I T ! ]
« © »
Also, two other ways in which this obstinate child of mine
continues to make its mark upon the world
[ however great or small that may be ] :
Eleven years since the effer premiered in print, yet not till this turn around the calendar—
Two Thousand Eleven A.D.—is when a song about it was inked,
so to speak. . .
« © »
Ditto, these two lovely ladies :
As well as
« © »
If you’re not able to read the quotation obscured by my likeness?
That strand of syllables won’t be found among the pages of Cottonmouth Kisses,
but rather within the Degeneracy: A Love Letter project —
which I’m hereby placing ‘on the market’
ISO some serious match-making. . .
Said another way? Prospective publishers, literary agents, &/or
friends/kins/neighbors of the aforementioned?
Where there’s an interest, I have a manuscript.
« © »
Extensive project info available through the modern advent of moving pictures!
[ Be sure to click 'More' in the video descriptions ]
« © »
Best of Wishes, everyone . . . & thanks!
Oh, sweetness. Is it too much to fathom, the thought of dipping into the population?
This business with the little people—you know, your “followers”. . .
Can you simply Not. Be. Bothered?
Excluding the rare exception [ namely, bashin' my dash with—well, content I don't want to encourage;
hence, the deliberate omission], I don’t understand why a person wouldn’t “follow back.” Granted,
I’m still a novice in the grand scheme of tumblrification, but I don’t know of a means by which
one can tell how many “followers” a person has. . .nor do I care to, quite frankly.
I mean, MySpace has gone down the shitter—it doesn’t even have a name anymore;
that’s how far removed it is from social relevance.
Didn’t the myopic Don’t-You-Know-How-Many-”Friends”-I-Have mindset accompany it?
[ Seriously? But SERIOUSLY ]
It’s rudimentary, my take on this sitch:
the primary function of tumblr’s dashboard [ or "feed" ] is that of an open dialogue, a continuous conversation
in which anyone from the 200 countries scattered around this curious planet we inhabit
has a unique opportunity [ so long as there's internet access, though that's a given—
I might as well be telling you it gets dark at night. . . ]
Because tumblr’s predominant means of communication is by way of a visual vocabulary, the opportunity
of which I speak is the ability for an individual to participate in the site’s ostensibly endless discussion
without the usual complications 6,800 different languages present.
Sure, music is a ‘universal language’; we’re familiar with the adage, most of us.
In the case of tumblr, however,
the ability to upload videos & mp3s further validates my premise/rationale, rather than dilutes it.
[ She's So Happening, via ThreeFrames.net ]
So : short of the long? Yeah, I follow back.
I also acknowledge that the sum of one’s “followers” does not deify.
[ Icarus much? I'd mutter Give Me A Break, but we have our day in the sun : each & every. . . ]
Oh, & when I attend a potluck dinner?
I don’t only eat the dish I brought.
…or wherever it is the telly’s located.
[ Assuming, that is, that you own one! ]
jumping right in on that tip
[ the one by which I'm putting the ass in "assumption," yes ]
Yeah, you know, the one in which I’m all gussied-up in the grand regalia of Mildred von Hildegard’s
highly-coveted [ & oft-imitated ] line of conceptual bespoke brilliance
known as ‘Mother of London‘
[ ...? ]
the photo shoot was captured on film—
namely, the latest documentary by Christopher Hines
[ pictured: musician & model Quentin Elias ]
After a wildly successful round
in the festival circuit,
it’s slotted to premiere at 8 PM
on MTV Network’s Logo
“Chiseled bodies, flawless skin, sculpted jawlines. At a time when popular culture objectifies men more than ever, it’s hard for them to avoid the pressure to possess such physical traits. In his follow-up to The Butch Factor, director Christopher Hines exposes how far some will go to attain the ‘Adonis Factor’ — the kind of god-like masculine beauty only seen in ancient Greek sculptures.
Hines takes viewers on an eye-opening journey through circuit parties, gay porn, and [ AHEM! ] avant-garde fashion photo shoots, all of which promote their own kinds of idealized physiques. By capturing a diverse range of voices — from those who dedicate their lives to the pursuit of mainstream male beauty, to those who openly spurn it — The Adonis Factor ultimately
poses the question: does a man’s fixation on body image make him any happier?”
[ via Breaking Glass distribution ]
[ Purchase : DVD ]
T H E Y Say :
“More than ever, we live in a body conscious world, one where images of the male body are targeted at you 24/7. No wonder then that many men, both gay and straight, find themselves unhappy with their body image, opting to go to various lengths, some extreme, in the pursuit of their ideal of physical perfection.
Yet in an increasingly superficial society, one where your look may well shape, if not define you, is this any surprise? Indeed as one participant in this thought-provoking documentary from writer, producer and director Christopher Hines put it, “how I look has made my experience of being a gay man, the
better” and here cue more parties, more sex, more friends. Yet life is a lot more complicated, as Hines sets out to show, along the way taking into account the thoughts of dermatologists, doctors, psychologists and sexologists, to plastic surgeons kept busy with never-ending requests for face lifts to pec implants.
Yet whilst surgically enhanced male beauty comes with a price tag attached to it, others things in life arrive with alarming side effects. For here Hines charts not just the use of illegal growth hormones and steroid abuse, but shocking slimming disorders that see twink styled teens resorting to aerobic bulimia, literally working off everything they eat, as opposed to throwing the calories up, just to stay thin beyond thin. All of which brings to mind the question of what has society become, when the pressure to fit in results with many playing Russian Roulette with their health?”
[ In Conclusion ]
“Filled with more buffed-to-perfection muscular studs than what you can shake a waxing strip at…” [ L O V E ! ] Hines “deliver[s] an eye-opening insight into the yin and yang of the gay world.”
C H E C K I T O U T
One that mentions me,
e v e n :
“…Willowy model Clint Catalyst [ with a marvelous makeup sequence that magically employs loose chains and spray paint to conjure up a compelling cover visage ] has moved miles away from the persecution of small-town bigotry to moulding his admiration for the likes of David Bowie into a personal statement that can be truly savoured.
By journey’s end, there is much hope that the queer amongst us will be accepted first by themselves, then by their peers and finally by the world at large. As commentator-comedian Bruce Vilanch points out, the ultimate male physique has been deified and envied since the original Olympics, where competitors never had to struggle into skimpy spandex.”
[ Laughter over the thought of me in spandex; fond affections for the JWR — ditto, Canadians in general ]
of the Short Notice
The Adonis Factor Airs Again
☆ ★ ☆ on Tuesday, April 5th at 11:30 A.M. [ Eastern Standard Time ] ☆ ★ ☆
[ schedule/listing ]
[ model/actor Anderson Davis , one of the film's interview subjects ]
Greetings, Beloved Darklings, Queerios, Style Fiends
As the sun begins its descent here in this Babylon-on-the-Pacific
commonly known as Los Angeles,
I propose a ‘Theme for The Evening’
[ to do with as you will—or conversely, as you won't,
if that's the case ]
Inspired by this GIF-tastic little gem I’ve reblogged,
courtesy of the kind folks at Three Frames—
[ attribution hereby duly noted, please.&.thanks ]
The motif proposed is that of
ᐞ△ᐞ · f i r e · ᐞ△ᐞ
Fire is Elemental.
“The energy of Life manifests in two forms, Fire & Air. While both are predominately active in nature, fire is the more active of the two, with Air being slightly passive because of the partial Water Element in its makeup. Potential Matter manifests its energy as Water & Earth.”
“The Alchemical Sulphur, or Soul, of a thing predominates in the animating principles of energy (Fire) & intelligence (Air); Alchemical Salt, or the physical body of a thing, predominates in unconscious forces, psychic, & instinctual intelligence (Water) & solid matter (Earth); Alchemical Mercury, or general life force, predominates in intelligence (Air) & instinctual forces, & psychic energy (Water), as such it is the link, or bridge, between the higher forces of Sulphur & the lower body of matter.”
[ source ]
Nevertheless, my intent behind this post is not to point you in a single direction,
But rather propose a topic to set one’s rhetorical embers ablaze, so to speak…
SΔID · ΔNOTHER · WΔY :
What role does fire play in your life?
Is it astrological?
[ Aries, 8th of April, in my case ]
[ Something you fear/something that incites desire, or is erotically-charged? ]
Or, better still:
Upon seeing or hearing the word,
Are there connotations that have little or nothing to do with what I’ve mentioned?
Whatever medium[s] of communication you might choose—words of your own, or that of another;
photography, [ ditto, self-created or reference points of inspiration ]; technology
[ case in point: the animated .GIF ]; paint pencil canvas paper spray paint graffiti
billboards buildings a keyboard the cello lit candles incantations magic mayhem…
However, by whichever/whatever means you might choose,
I look forward to seeing not just how you respond to ‘me,’ but rather
something infinitely greater: the universal dialogue of creative expression, &
the means by which it connects us, asserts our relevance
at a specific moment in time
within/among/& along the infinite umbilical cord that connects humanity,
the splendor of nature, & the universe.
Please Note: Seeking Attribution for Photographs &/or .GIFs Without Credits Listed
[ "Unsourced" posts discovered via ImageShack, Imgur, et al ]
— Thanks! —
[a quick check-list]:
How have relations with your peers been as of late?
Have any of your friends seemed distant, unavailable? Perhaps a bit stand off-ish?
Or even worse: has anyone begun to treat you with suspicion? Spoken to you with a distrusting tone?
Conducted a rash & volatile act upon your arrival—say, for example, the frenetic strumming of an
acoustic guitar to the tune of a [quote] “power ballad”? &—if dare say that be the case—was
aforementioned ::SHUDDER:: stadium serenade coupled with an egregiously off-key
rendition of lyrics such as “Don’t Stop Believin’”?
(Stop. Believing. What?!)
Quite frankly, do you feel as if your interests incite an impending sense of moral panic?
Are you persecuted… for your taste in music?
In †hee Name Ov DELTΔ DELTΔ DELTΔ‘s Sacred †ri-Force
(an equal opportunity destroyer: for the xx, xy & x”whatever”/transitioning set),
TRUST: We understand.
S’all there is to it.
So what’s a budding hex-head to do?
For such matters, we consult…
Just as I expected:
is T H E E . A N S W E R .
— for his —
Prolific updates, finger not just on the proverbial “pulse” or clichéd “trigger,” but rather the plunger of a 1 cc mainlining psychostimulant drogas directly from that four-chambered metronome nestled within one’s ribcage to the pleasure center of readers’ brains, flooding dopamines in a tsunami of methamphetamaniacuphoria, burning serotonin at such a deliciously dangerous–& dangerously delicious–rapid-fire rate, it’s been rumored that the back of some readers’ skulls have been blown open as if their pupils bulls-eyed all six chambers and short-circuited before the spinning even began: no need for the thrill of Russian Roulette when Fokkawolfe’s here EFFING. KILLING. IT.
[ & the rat-tat-tat-tat of exclamation points forage ahead, slaughtering daughters & posting cyanide-laced syllables that cement those blandular brooklyn blogs deeper, deeper still into the myopic 'no maan, nobody's doing that/this is how it is' mentality in which they're mired (though not admired) . . . ]
Whatever higher powers may be,
INORDINATE AMOUNTS OF GRATITUDE TO ± FOKKAWOLFE ±
[ also known as Laurence Conrad ]
Seriously? But SERIOUSLY boss…
Totes the stokage you exist!
Pleated Khaki Trousers, Dork-Ass Dance Moves and Damme ,
he’s gotta be puttin’ us on.
O.K., O.K.! Maybe not, then.