Posts tagged ‘text’

November 7, 2009

Camerafone

like many humans in the second world i have a camera on my mobile phone.
i even use it in frustration, and not till today did i learn how to upload using bluetooth

i am technologically incorrect.

 

in a flat field

if you walk south on guy street till it ends, and you keep walking, you end up here. one of the few places in montreal home to pine trees. it is close to the canal, and beside an industrial structure that is being destroyed. i found blooming milkweed here. it is the perfect spot in the whole city. if my haus crumbled tomorrow and i had no place to live i would live here.

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looking across the canal i find love in all dead spaces. i feel the need to make them alive and loved again.

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in all honesty, this stencil says more than anyone i can think of.

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i wish i had more convictions to my actions. currently purposeless, i feel i have let my foremothers down.

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this photo was taken on a day not unlike today. 100% appropriate. i miss someone.

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i love this man more than anyone could know. even with the douchestache, his humour borders on the ridiculous and his intelligence and ability to learn is astounding. he is the summer man, the one i see for a mere 3 months of the year. ilbm. that is all.

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we spend hours and hours in alleys, laughing at the pissing drunk man. we, high as all fuck, dream of the ship haus, and every summer living to come. we shared hutch haus, our home that has now been inherited by a newer generation. i hope they appreciate the home we made.

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we do stupid things like wander and throw rocks at exploded train containers. because we can. because we’re 20something with love on our hands.

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the evolution will be sequinized, crustaceanized.

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see mystery lights.

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my favourite lines are diagonal.

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my favourite symbol is the swastika, hidden in every suburban bathroom tiling.

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as it was, my pillowcases are printed bright pink orange and green. on everyone of them is a printed WHY and in my dreams i am asked the question WHAT IS A DREAM? and i should have known that i was dreaming, being asked a question like that.

November 7, 2009

Obsidian

i, obsidian
slice ably the throats of athenians [maybe]
oxygenized mainprize
was one once
viscous found shattering
blade forth versus steel
lava loved me
rejecting crystallization in favour of molecular scalpels
stoned and culled on sinister’s side

i, obsidian
silicon dioxide
too complex to contain single minerals
i tasted you like basalt
i found you in ethiopia
i feared myself like water

missed, taken
lunar volcanic eruptions
teased out and rhyolitic
flows and hiked
cardiac surgical self made tears.

August 14, 2009

Midnight Bicycle Mystery

EGG.  hardboiled.  Cado’s pimp.
[AVO]CADO.  overripe prostitute.  does not appear onstage but whose voice is heard from the apartment.
THE CLIENT.  does not appear on stage, but is with Cado in the apartment.
CHORUS.  consists of 4 females / prostitutes?.  speak / sing in unison.
________________________________________

[midnight.  an alley next to an
apartment high rise in a meatpacking district.
the light is a diffused blue imitating moonlight.
the chorus is mingling onstage, laughing.
a bicycle is leaning up against the wall on center left stage.
the words JESUS LOVES ME TOO are graffitied.
the present.]
enter egg

read more »

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July 16, 2009

Pseudo Macho Cry Baby

Hello Again, Freddy Ruppert ::

This man will haunt you. Finding the power to distance myself from the art in order to write this is increasingly difficult – even more painful than being sucked into the creative mind behind the now defunct This Song Is A Mess But So Am I [TSIAM].  There is a strange fevered energy not unlike the reason of movement of the pelagic shark – wherein physical stasis induces asphyxiation – so does the song.  From the end of the project in 2007, the seemingly inexhaustible Freddy Ruppert has found himself drained completely.  He can now be found expressing love from all its extreme points with Former Ghosts.  Redemption evolution has mellowed out enough this with the forthcoming release on Upset the Rhythm this fall – an album that hopefully won’t induce as many nightmares..

Ruppert has crafted his own unique sound drawing autobiographically.  In the beginning, TSIAM was the physical accumulation of emotion and the catharsis of his mother’s cancer and death.  The sounds of Church Point, LA [2004], Marble Mouth [2006] and Satan Be Here Sessions [unreleased] are  and vocals that grate the scalp and induces existential exsanguination.  The circumstances surrounding this music were unfortunately necessary – TSIAM could not have existed without the unfolding of real life events.  The anguished laments of Church Point, LA are riddled with references coinciding with Freddy’s formal connection with Religious Studies
‘ God and Cancer’, ‘Parting Sea’, and ‘Psalm 88’ are particularly critical of ; Though a self-declared atheist, affirms this is common with anyone who has experienced a spiritual crisis.  The need for physical unleashing of pain came organically with the performative side to music.

In taking the stage, Ruppert had successfully crafted his own world in which to lose control, to ‘be taken to where the song is’.  These singular moments of raw energy were the obsessive pulls.  Performing music changes the experience in as many ways as music exists.  If it means pissing off the sound guy – so be it.  Deafening sound is incomparable to the loss of hearing [remember kids! bring your earplugs] of Metatron is transferring his opus of loss.  The convulsions, the screaming equipment, the pedals, and the sweat – YouTube does no justice to the multisensory exhibit that is Freddy Ruppert in his own world.

After the release of Marble Mouth, the documentation of life after the fact and touring extensively – the process had ceased to be therapeutic or useful in the healing process.  Satan Be Here [unreleased – maybe because it is a harrowing  self-introspection of the negative, a need to push to the edge in order to have come back renewed.  The desire to continue to create had run out completely, and so TSIAM was put to rest in 2007 – as explosive as it began – it ended.

After a 2 year hiatus, Freddy has all but given up convulsive mechanics for a haunting dream pop sound glorifying life instead of questioning it.  How does one approach the maker of the music?  The transition from covering Ministry’s ‘Burning Inside’ to posting the pre-Former Ghosts ‘Unfolding’ as a gift was indeed a drastic one.
Ruppert claims were many false starts in to making music again, any attempt felt contrived, out of place and was ultimate abandoned to rot on a hard drive.   That is until a singular event of love completed the task of fruitful connection.  Songs were posted online and people seemed to relate and respond, and it evolved into Former Ghosts.  Ruppert, teaming up with Jamie Stewart of Xiu Xiu and Nika Roza of Zola Jesus have begun a very mysterious inquiry into love.

The creative circumstances behind the ‘why’ have changed courses just as life usually does and the external event as inspiration for the music has remained the same.  While Ruppert has had no formal education in music production or industry, and has no concrete plans in making a living off his music – the craft will always be there.  ‘I make things because i have to make them whether there is an audience for it or not’.  Without that sort of physically engaging outlet of concentrated emotional, albeit traumatic, events, madness would reign – that is the only sense of satisfaction granted to the creator.

Attempting to classify Freddy Ruppert at this stage in his career would be futile – the man has proven to his listeners his ability to wrench both carnal and soothing noises from any source he can get his hands on.  Despite the individuality of each song, and the strength it took to invoke it to stand, in autobiographical music, the tracks are grouped together harmoniously in albums.  In looking back over these stages, Ruppert knows the movements and the path, even if their functions differ.

When not making music, freddy is known to be sleeping and working out.  He has no bizarre compulsions, collections, or alter egoes.  This is one totally normal guy.

find him here

http://freddyruppert.blogspot.com/
http://www.myspace.com/formerghostssleep
http://www.myspace.com/thissongisamessisdead

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July 12, 2009

words

werds.

objects we feel in the mouths.  the unwell thought out positioning of words in our bodies.

the words remain

most recently

[anyshapenamereally]
asplode
assonance
bee
bergamot
bog
canaan
catharsis
cephalopod
chimera
circulonimbus
cnidarian
concertina
control
convection
corrupt
cozy
crass
destrudo
dissonance
dodecagon
elixir
ephemeral
exorkizein
gristmill
hadopelagic
haemoglobin
heather
histology
hives
hollow
hyperbolic
iconoclast
iconostasis
inertia
insipid
internal
kalashnikov
kernal
knives
laughter
lipids
marble
mephistopheles
metatarsals
metatron
mire
mot
narc
nonagon
oceanic
phalanges
pixie
polysyllabic
prawn
pyrrhic
quatragammatron
salamander
saturn
satyrinid
shiv
slaughter
smuts
sometimes
spies
spiritus spatium
squadragammatron
surveillance
swallowing
swastika
swollen
synonymously
tactictal
tetragammatron
tetragrammaton
tickle
xanadu [but not the movie]
yellow

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July 7, 2009

Daily Routine

Daily Routine makes nests
for all the devils i’ve named
my selves sowing these weeds evil
deeper roots maidened sacredly
in patterned seeds

Who made you?
Master of one
Champion of Trailblazers
Volunteer Pioneer
[bring water for the trip]

Destroyer, Destroyer
THE ONLY ONE OF US
LUCKY ENOUGH
to have an empty
attic.
May he forever lay
in smuts of sweet clover.

<<^^>>^^<<^^>>^^<<^^>>^^<<^^>>^^<<^^>>
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<<^^>>^^<<^^>>^^<<^^>>^^<<^^>>^^<<^^>>

and i know
whenever i write ‘selves’
you read ‘sleeves’

the tiniest strawberries

DEEP LAKE DIVING DRIVING MY THUMBS NUMB

_____________________________________

Pater noster, qui es in caelis:
sanctificetur Nomen Tuum;
adveniat Regnum Tuum;
fiat voluntas Tua,
sicut in caelo, et in terra.
Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie;
et dimitte nobis debita nostra,
Sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris;
et ne nos inducas in tentationem;
sed libera nos a Malo.
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June 29, 2009

Spineweaving

woven spines

after beginning class this week – creative writing – we were asked to start a text based journal.

i am well trained in keeping an image based sketchbook, versing the images can’t be THAT difficult, can it?

what with all the imaginary life experience occuring this week, i should have dishes of inspiration to choose from.  so, clean slate.  i needed a new book – and what better way to show of my skills of material manipulation than to actually MAKE a book? [the evolution will be graded, of course]

and so it turns out i’m not half bad at it [no tutorials required – just had to spend some time googling different types of glue].

pink weave

the tiny pink one was the first one i made – i didn’t sew the pages together quite right so it was quite wobbly but i reinforced it rather nicely by collaging the interior seams with extra paper.  bond paper is obviously the easiest to pierce, but it gets a little boring [though composed of histology text book, high school math notes, print offs of lj comm welikepills, seth’s drawings i pulled out of the garbage, and a printer version of de sade’s La Philosophie dans le boudoir [i think]].

i tore apart old issues of SWINDLE and EYE and APERTURE and made a scribbler

green page three

as usual – i lose my selves in every project i start.  my fingers are chapped and itching.  there is love everywhere.

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June 25, 2009

Imaginary

Coming into awakening – sleep in the enemy of the people.

People who don’t exist – calling beyond context into distraction.  These are the Imaginary.

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June 18, 2009

Kreetures + Mots

A wise man once said, in regards to the existence of objects in his absence

PICS OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN

the octobunny, the platoctopillar.  the newest, most fun additions to the evolution.  just in time for ilhu to start darwin’s THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES on audiobook [which is difficult, considering the quality of the narrator’s voice. there on the mountain, the house of oaks, caterpillars rained on me. i began to shift an octobunny into a platoctopus, platoctopillar in ~chance colour choices, and other evolutionary mi/steaks

plat shit

fuck seashore.  give me seahorse seahell.

most recently thrown throne into the arms of the evolution is freeform lyfe [worn to crose yo fase]

Photobucket

[picture by RETEMA]

ways to clean your environment.  what began as a guilty action in the desire to make everything i own turned [or eveolved] into me, sitting in front of @navarino crocheting a nu dishrag turned into granny triage triangles.  i was thankfully interrupted such a menial task by the realised existence of a very certain book in such close proximity to my skin.  running down st viateur with 5-minute ago unknown energy, climbing over stacks and racks and wrecks of books for OAK MOT what a queer name!
oak mot!

trembling in every limb, i called the only person i knew to think of.  i divided all my books.  remaining were now the Six [PPP] [previously the Five] [i don’t think i could every replace ~these books]

patches // kelly vivanco
dada // kenneth coutte-smith
falling // [info]reqbat
the electric kool-aid acid test // tom wolfe
oak mot // crispin hellion glover
house of leaves // mark z danielewski

beginning to begin to take levels and take it to another bevel.