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. […]
(Go ahead & fling the slab of Velveeta at me over that one—I’ll cop the rationale of Twi-hards in my defense: “I don’t know how it happened! I must’ve been roofied or something, ’cause my taste level—I mean, my defenses—were down. Really: I’m really much cooler than that!” )
the JARED GOLD/CLINT CATALYST CO-BRANDED MERCHANDISE—
as modeled by the Most Correct Miss Lenora Claire, an L.A.-based art curator, freelance writer, television/nightlife personality and phenomenonicon.
Item Description:
Congratulations! You are really did it this time! You’re twisted, deviant, salacious, and—of course, lovable. What better way to announce it to the world than this “Perv” Prize Pin?
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…
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…”
First, I’m stoked to have social media superhero Miss Destructo
as the next ‘Consumer As Spokesmodel’ (despite how admittedly goober the title may be…) :: Keep sending in those glamour shots of you rockin’ product, kids… Whether it’s a book bag or a prize ribbon, I’d love to plaster your face up here for all the w.w.w. to see!
And next, a familiar face on this blog, as of late—
Zoetica Ebb, filling the role of “Check-Me-Out-Bitches; I’m In An Ad!”
Ahhh, YES:
I really love this “bounce-out.” (Is that what they’re called?) Whatever the nomenclature,
(That’d be five stars, in case my strand of Polari doesn’t translate well.)
Fully backin’ the ability to customize the size and lay-out options, as well as the international content contained therein.
To be honest, I’d rate the content in the current “issue” as a 4.5—meaning, of course, I know full well The Indie Fashion crew is capable of upping the ante beyond the established paradigm.
My request? Sprinkle in some content fromJapanese men’s Vogue—as I’ve yet to see a single copy at any news stand (and I live in L.A., for F’s sake)… but the scant amount I’ve been fortunate to locate on-line?
Of course, there’s also the occasional editorial in Imago ‘zine (Canada), Gazelleland (New York), Coilhouse (Los Angeles) and the slew of $40-and-over periodicals rife with opulence, editorial genius and consummate consumer lust that creep their way over from Europe…
Because these?
Of course, this is merely my opinion: but it’s when these truly independent flashes of serendipity—synonymous far too often with short print runs before the recently-launched creations belly-up…
It’s when these disparate elements get stirred into an already stellar sampling of aspirational imagery
that my mind melds &
corneas are left burning with a brilliance that feels so
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…
*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
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?
