Donnie Davies, world famous ex-Gay music personality, is shooting a music video for his upcoming hit "Will You Come". Shooting will be this Sunday at the Mitchell Lofts. "Will You Come" is a passionate call to all the God Fearing Americans who can't stand to watch America tip back into the Liberal Abyss of the Clinton era... or the even darker future of an Obama-nation. Come out and get behind Donnie, he needs you so much.
Donnie is trying to reach the average American working class Christian so wear your work attire (ie. factory worker is fine and so is a suit).
Where: Dallas @ The Mitchell Lofts (3800 Commerce) When: Sunday Evening from 5:30pm - 8:00pm.
Donnie needs at least 100 guys to get behind him this Sunday. Really, there's no limit to how many guys he could stand to have behind him. As many as possible, really.
Will *YOU* come?
Please e-mail donniedavies@gmail.com if you can help.
It really does sadden me to see John Freeman playing arm-darts again. I hang out with John a lot and, I've got to say, it seems like he doesn't want to be doing it. It doesn't seem like a con but I guess it is. Its gross. Its like watching a lab rat hit the button that stimulates its pleasure center until it starves to death. In fact, its just precisely exactly like that.
I knew there was trouble when John came up to the office and disappeared for a few hours. I went out to look for him and found him hanging around with Darren's (old junkie associate of Johns, recently shot himself) ex-girlfriend Melissa. I thought about saying something to John right there but I figured that she had just lost someone close and could stand the benefit of a doubt. They had come up with a benefit for Darren where the proceeds would go to a drug rehab charity. Its so sad to have that conversation knowing all the while that John is just getting up the nerve to ask Melissa to score him drugs.
Its heartbreaking because you know there are mental parallel universes where that conversation is real and they really will have that benefit and they'll help get some people off junk. I wish they could get hold of that inner reality and nourish it and make it win but it probably won't happen. Its just so tiresome, this back and forth. I wish John and Melissa and everyone else who is slowly and embarrasingly killing themselves would just cut it the fuck out. Or I wish they would purposefully OD and get it out of the way... or move out of town... or anything that doesn't involve the rest of us who are trying to squeeze some enjoyment out of this already difficult situation.
I most especially hope we don't throw a benefit or write a memoir or take any other notice of the slow stupid demise you concocted for yourselves. Ugh. But its too late. Look at me. I already wrote this stupid thing. The only blog entry I've really written about John is a result of his sad little plea for attention in the form of heroin addiction. The stupid mystique of self destruction. What a piece of crap. Congratulations Freeman. Asshole.
ps. I'll be praying for John and Melissa and the rest of the junkies. If you pray I hope you will do the same.
My Dad died of colon cancer when he was a tender 45. That puts me into a high-risk category for the same kind of trouble and my doc thought it would be wise to schedule me for a colonoscopy. Better safe than sorry, right?
I do have a perveted streak but I still can't get excited about drinking a gallon of laxatives, camping out on the toilet and turning my ass into a movie studio. I am mentally deviated enough, however, to find it pretty hysterical.
The gallon of mystery drink they gave me appears to be a combination of salt, baking soda and polyethalyne glycol. PEG also makes an appearance in Dr. Pepper. I've always heard that prune juice figured into the South's favorite soda drink. Apparently the relentless march of progress has replaced it with a more utilitarian chemical additive. The only function that Cadbury/Schwepps will acknowledge is as an "antifoaming agent" but some DP will still loosen up your BM.
Apparently tomorrow they'll shoot me up with some kind of intravenous knock-out sedative and date rape me with a fiber-optic butt scope. A surreal cherry-on-top to this whole thing is that my colon doctor is Lisa Loeb's dad. I'm having nightmares of being strapped into a hydrolic toilet equipped with headphones that relentlessly inject Lisa's greatest hits into my helpless quivering brain. I'd, literally, be getting it from both ends.
In a more civilized society we would perform this procedure in an Asian tanning salon. A couple of poppers, an oiled up lotus blossum and a little house music could even propel me to a "happy ending". Instead, the cold tentacle of modern medicine will snake its way up my butt, inspecting every inch with its glassy eye and sharpening its talons in hope of a juicy pollop.
This won't mean much to you non-computer nerd types but July 5th is the 10th anniversary of the Debian Social Contract. Without getting into a whole lot of messy details, Debian is an organization that I have long been a part of and ten years ago a bunch of us worked together to outline a few ideas about what it means to own a computer, put your ideas in them and not have those ideas ruled by other people.
Some of our associates in Finland (motherland of the GNU/Linux OS and Linus Torvalds, its creator) are going to celebrate by cooking pancakes and drinking beer. We intend to join them. So, if you like computers (or even if you just like pancakes) you should stop by the Brainfood Worldwide Headquarters and eat a pancake with us in honor of the wonder that is the Free Software movement and Debian in particular.
Gah... Some of you may recall my last post complaining about the fine art world's propensity for lamely co-opting terminology from other fields of study in a hopeless effort to lend meaning to their work. Thinking back to that post I almost felt I had overstated the matter (at least for writers other than Charissa Terranova) but the review of Keith Tyson's work in Art Forum has restored my faith in the inanity of those working in fine art review. Here is a quote:
"Just as the radio telescopes in New Mexico's Very Large Array combine to focus on a single point in the cosmos, Tyson's Large Field Array, 2006, provides a "lens" through which the viewer can trace the various forces and connections (visual, psychological, and so on) that determine our experience of the world."
This sentence is in regard to images like this one:
Sure, sure, you're right... I'm like that guy who bought a house on Greenville Avenue and then complains about the bar traffic, right? I should probably just stay away from reading fine art reviews and then everyone will be happy. Well, I'd say I'm more like the guy who bought a house near Greenville Avenue so that he could walk to the bar but hates it when drunk idiots take a shit on his lawn. I enjoy images and sculptures but I hate the pretentious and parasitic system of presentation that has evolved around them. So, I'll complain. Listen if it tickles your funny bone.
In different news, I just bought an anthology of Icelandic graffiti called "Icepick". Its chock full of goodness. Its images create a self-assembling network of interdependent logic units in just them same manner as an RLU in a neural network experiment. Just kidding, its simply chock full of goodness. Image:
Once again, myself and a team of compatriots labored tirelessly to bring humiliation and disgrace to the Dallas 24-Hour Video Race. For those not in the know, the video race is an event where a group of teams assemble to compete with each other in an effort to create a short film in 24 hours. To keep the effort honest, a theme, line of dialog, prop and setting are revealed Friday night at midnight and the teams must produce a film in 24 hours that incorporates these elements. These unknowns make it difficult to set up material in advance of the race.
This year's secret hints were: Setting: Flag poles Prop: A musical instrument Line of dialog: "You don't owe me anything" Theme: "Wrong Turn"
Last year we produced a film that definitely entertained the audience more than anything else but it lost to a more polished and well established entry. Rather than mince around competing on fit and finish we decided to take the time tested formula of offensive comedy up a notch. I don't want to ruin the surprise but we set out this year with the specific intent of being censored.
Amazingly, the race did not bow to conservative norms and our entry was screened in the normal line-up. It would have been very sad if a small enthusiasts group like the Dallas Video Festival had self-censored its participants. We pretty much expected them to do that and were pleasantly surpised by their show of organizational will. Thanks to the judges and the management of the Dallas Video Festival!
There were the usual gamut of problems with fresh meat, bad equipment and fatigue. Fighting entropy makes the event. Scoring and recording the musical number before filming (for lip sync) really made production challenging and creating the exploding testicle was a blast. The highlight had to be when the fake testicle burst on my crotch while John Freeman wielded a scalpel fractions of an inch from my special business.
Anyway, I digress. Without any further ado... The entry...
Some mathematicians say that every number is magical and sacred. That they each have a unique and special role or purpose. Some are "even" and some are "odd". Some may be a square root or the square of another number. Its fun to Google random numbers and see what documents you turn up based on that number. For instance, look at the links that this random number brings up:
Its also interesting to convert the number's "base" into a more digital representation. The "base" is the number of "digits" in the numbering system. Binary has two digits (0 and 1) and decimal (the numbers most of us are used to) has ten (0,1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9). There are an infinite variety of others. The same number above, converted to "hexadecimal" (base 16) brings in quite different Google results:
Gilberto Gil is a national treasure for Brasil on the same order that Willie Nelson or Stevie Wonder is for us. Beyond being an incredible musician he is an important political figure. In the 70's he was arrested for using his music to protest the military dictatorship that held power. I'm not sure whether all that enhances or reduces the sheer weirdness of this video. Enjoy.
On Sunday I was riding around downtown at night without holding on to the handle bars... I bet you can guess what happened. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am a fucking genius.
