drugs

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“When Is An Ice Cream Truck NOT An Ice Cream Truck?”

March 25, 2011 / Clint Catalyst posted in Archive, Blog, Television Appearances, TV-Film / 6 Comments

“…When it’s run by this dude”:

“A Drug-Dealing ‘Mr. Freeze’”

[ on ]

Segment: “Ice Fiend Man” from Episode 320
[ Watch Full Episode : Better Them Than Us ]

N E X T A I R D A T E :

Tuesday, April 12
at
12:30 A.M.

Synopsis:
“A billionaire bottoms out; it’s hard out there for a Russian pimp; gang bangers play doctor;
a pyromaniac gets burned; an ice cream man gets iced; a bad actor needs a hand;
a Greek gets his brass handed to him.”

About The Series:
“1000 Ways To Die showcases some of the most outrageously true stories about those who
succumbed to the Grim Reaper in the most unorthodox stories.”

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Pills, Thrills, Chills and Heartache Review — Fab Magazine

September 30, 2010 / Clint Catalyst posted in Archive, Reviews, Reviews of Pills, Thrills, Chills and Heartache / No Comments

April 2004

Toronto, ON Canada

[ Click HERE for full-size image ]

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Review of Cottonmouth Kisses — Bizarre Magazine (UK)

July 1, 2010 / Clint Catalyst posted in Archive, Reviews, Reviews of Cottonmouth Kisses / No Comments

April 2001

[ Many thanks to Cathi Unsworth —
and, of course, to Bizarre magazine ! ]

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Review of Pills, Thrills, Chills and Heartache — Instinct Magazine

February 22, 2010 / Clint Catalyst posted in Reviews of Pills, Thrills, Chills and Heartache / No Comments

February 2004

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“And If Cupid’s Got A Gun, Then He’s Shootin’…”

February 8, 2010 / Clint Catalyst posted in Archive, Blog / 4 Comments

Quickly, now—download this track:

“Until We Bleed” — Kleerup featuring Lykke Li

No, really. Download it.

I’m attempting to convey something here, to translate the vocabulary of my heart.

Let me try that again: What I’m trying to do is provide a soundtrack for Mia Tyler ‘s photography, so I’d appreciate it if you’d just humor me for a minute, O.K.? (& that’s with a “please” & “thank you”)

I can’t tell you if it’s a song Miss Tyler would choose herself; hell, I don’t even know I’d pick it, if I were given the chance. I don’t know much of anything, except that chance is how this intersection happened:

I flipped open my laptop, navigated my cursor and clicked the iTunes icon—you know the one, the CD symbol covered by a pair of musical notes? They’re a water-cooler blue, the blue of an aquarium. A blue not unlike that of my screen-saver, but the click of another icon—planet earth engulfed in flames: the search engine, Firefox—eclipsed that hue when a page snapped open on this rectangle I gazed into, eyes skimming a page of tweets. I don’t know that I’ll ever be comfortable with that phrase , a 140-characters-or-less challenge to “Think long thoughts in short sentences.” [Ferlinghetti]

But anyway, just as Lykke Li‘s ethereal voice crept through my speakers, I happened to be scrolling through these images. The combination of Li’s sensual, airy timbre with Tyler’s photographs, delirious with warmth; the harrowing rise of bows stroking cello strings with the lyrics “Lights black; heads bang/You’re my drug/We live it…”

Well, I was sideswiped by emotion.

Enjoy,

»Read More

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Review Of Pills, Thrills, Chills and Heartache — Flaunt Magazine

January 29, 2010 / Clint Catalyst posted in Reviews, Reviews of Pills, Thrills, Chills and Heartache / No Comments

Issue 52, The “Spring Fashion Issue”

While the process of uploading/archiving/formatting my site to WordPress is—generally speaking—yawnsville territory, the occasional film strip I “re-visit” compensates for the pain-in-the-assery of it all : remembrances of whom was with me, where I was, the tilt-a-whirl of excitement I felt upon picking up the copy of Flaunt, in which this brief review (see: paragraph three) appeared…

flaunt-review-of-pills-thrills-chills-and-heartache

Massive thanks and congratulations, B.B.: In five sentences, you target the subject matter with a marksman’s precision. Not only is this excerpt testament to a well-honed sense of verbal dexterity, but the analysis also exhibits a sophistication—namely, your ability to exude charm despite a frugal economy of language.

And thank you, Flaunt Magazine, for the elation (however fleeting). I don’t even have to close my eyes, and I’m there again: a 7-11 in Eagle Rock, bona-fide literary groupie Mark Ewert waiting in my grandmacamry while I made this pit stop to wherever it is he was staying. The A.C. in the store is cranked, my skin a menace of gooseflesh as I stand, feet planted so I’m facing the magazine rack. There’s a large expanse of glass behind the titles—does one call it a “window” if it’s never meant to be opened?—and on the other side of the freshly-Windexed surface that’s filling my lungs with a mildly toxic freon blue scent, dusk spreads itself across the asphalt sky, immense and in gasoline hues—a Molotov cocktail tossed onto the L.A. skyline. A thick copy of Flaunt is in my hands, Selma Blair on the trademark die-cut double cover, and it’s the moment just after I flipped past Omahyra’s “Quinceñara” editorial: the moment when my eyes landed on this review, confirming the validity of what I’d heard, and as I’m scanning the words, a feeling comes over me that’s an onslaught of stimuli: it’s like being on a float in a parade, the crowd cheering; it’s like tossing a fistful of lit firecrackers; it’s a warmth of validation crawling into me by the fingertips, a delirious warmth, a fix I hadn’t even known I was craving. It’s my own Sally Fields moment, an implicit understanding of the fickle undercurrent in her Oscar acceptance speech when she gushed: “You like me, right now, you like me!”

I grab the other two copies from the shelf and head towards the cashier, not giving a damn about the transitory nature of things.

I feel traces of it still: “You like me… You like me…”

“Right now, you like me!”

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