clintcatalyst: Hello, Dark-hearts... † http://tinyurl.com/BlackRainbowsBloodyLollipops † An alternative to diggonometry: POST YOUR FAVORITE CONTENT HERE […]
clintcatalyst: Between that obnoxious twit-whale & the tweet-robot, my mental health demands that I abandon these parts...(Message rcvd, universe: kthnx) […]
clintcatalyst: Just rcvd yr DM but can't respond bcz you're not "following" me, @Weebeasty. This better be a Twit-glitch, or somebody's gonna CUT A BITCH! […]
clintcatalyst: Someone stole yr jeep, @lizyd? SUCKAGE. I've thght my car was ganked a few times, but turned out my dumb ass just forgot where I parked. […]
Where fashion blogs are for the most part mediocre and ubiquitous (other than this awesome and arty offering from twelve year old fashion blogger, Tavi) fashion videos on YouTube tend to follow suit with meaningless musings that are often more asinine and offensive than their blog counterparts. Luckily for you, we’ve trawled through them all to separate the wheat from the chaff (or the Hermes from the H&M) to bring you the best vlog offerings (and some hilarious one-off videos) from some highly questionable self-proclaimed stylists.
Fashion Police celebrate the L.A. Hipster
Hipsters get a pretty rough reception sometimes from mainstream culture, but this video shows the outrageous Clint Catalyst and Jayme Foxx boldly celebrating the errant ways of the LA hipster clan. You’ll love to hate them, yet begrudgingly agree with their Fashion Don’ts, and they’ll love you right back… after all irony is so in right now.
Feature & interview
For this show, I was interviewed about a song that has had a profound affect on my development/in my life. My choice? “Smalltown Boy” by Bronski Beat. I have quite an extended anecdote re: this piece–after all, I grew up on a gravel road in Arkansaw…
Da ALI G Show
Episode #4, “Art/Media”
I’m in this for something like a nanosecond. Seriously. Blink and you will miss me.
Femme TV
Featured interview
July 98 episode
Performed “Flouncing About” and accidentally caught show hostess Machiko Saito’s dress on fire with my cigarette! (no lie — and precisely why editors left the footage in).
Strange Universe
Interview regarding my duties hosting “Roderick’s Chamber,” modeling for Charles Gatewood, Gothy Goth Goth stuff.
Entertainment Tonight
A feature on Rob Schneider from SNL and Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo, which includes a visit to a nightclub where I was a designated host for the evening. There’s a scene in which Schneider happens upon me sitting with his mother, as she “casually” flips through a album full of his childhood photos. The location + my appearance at the time = wherein the humor lies…
The First Cut
Episode about Ye Olde ‘G’ Word, in which I’m interviewed at Roderick’s. Maing, do I ever wish I still had a VHS copy of this one; nothing about the show is listed on IMDB whatsoever.
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!
It’s as easy as the pro-Ana mindset by which to skip dessert:
“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.”
Not gonna lie (or “ngl,” for those who speak Millennial): this is one of the first photographs of Mister Glenn Kaino that shows how handsome he is. Not exactly a stranger to the slick and glossy pages of newsstand racks, there’ve been many a magazine where I thought the printed results of the flashbulb-pop just didn’t do him justice. Props to the photographer for capturing why it is his lovely wife CoryLynn went “Whoa”—y’know?
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!).
