'Writing about music is like dancing about architecture. My girlfriend got a nosebleed and had to leave.'
-Jared Robert Baxter
 
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19 August 2011 02:14 / outrageous'Writing about music is like dancing about architecture. My girlfriend got a nosebleed and had to leave.'   |
14 August 2011 11:54 / on my knees'there is this place -   |
14 July 2011 06:04 / bastille dayA man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur, and dreaming is nursed in darkness.
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23 May 2011 00:16 / sexy zachary german1 i will use only body language that i know you will never pick up on
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11 May 2011 02:39 / he knows so much about these things'It was not till they had examined the rings that they recognized who it was.' -   |
05 May 2011 00:44 / just another act of worshipfuck you fuck you it's really windy i know it's kind of silly in the beginning don't make any international calls the next time you see me i'll be able to play every instrument in the world i mean i'm just saying we is also so like us i've been a ceo since birth oh i didn't know you were pointing at me this is france you know what would be really romantic guys i forgot something so cute when i get inspired i just get inspired and now i'm inspired i mean fine oh my god so sexy driver i'm a 2 part section it's just true i'm thinking of trading the same places -   |
27 April 2011 01:49 / banksy was born sexyAny advertisement in public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It belongs to you. It's yours to take, rearrange, and reuse. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.   |
06 April 2011 10:40 / anyway do you want to hear our story or not |
05 April 2011 11:15 / 'if they give you lined paper, write the other way' |
04 April 2011 23:47 / tv carnage is my favorite poet  |
16 March 2011 13:37 / sexy tao linp 34 p 41 -   |
19 February 2011 00:13 / geographerZack, hey. Well, from my perspective, you got some good writing done, and those business school guys talked shop, and you're an artist, and they're willing cogs in the corporate machine or whatever, and they'll get fat and financially comfortable and spend their lives as stressed out details in the office portion of life, and you'll make a completely unique mark upon the world and have really interesting friends and an unpredictable, relatively free floating life wherein you'll be rewarded for being exactly who you are, and so you win, hands down.
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25 January 2011 23:18 / mine for a long timeMy heart is in my hand, and my hand is pierced, and my hand is in the bag, and the bag is shut, and my heart is caught. -   |
20 September 2010 23:59 / onto the next oneThe fact is, in many ways, I hadn't planned to make it to this age. I think of my past as if it were some exquisite antique knife. You can use it to defend yourself or slit your own throat. But you can't just keep it mounted on some wall. I can no longer allow the past, however, to interpret my future. Not dying young can be a dilemma. Such notions, I see now, are an indulgence. I inhabit a different body now. Each day, it seems, another self wakes up and heats the coffee. I can distinguish, even gauge, the passage from a disturbed youth to a disturbed adult by the subtle aggressiveness in my anxiety.. So, having lived, it seems only proper to begin keeping track again, to record the flux of each self, and weigh the shifting landscape of the city. I've given much of myself to feed its insatiable, tick-ridden underbelly, and I expect the use of its character, without threats or intimidation, in return. If you haven't died by an age thought predetermined by the timing of your abuses and excesses, then what else is left but to begin another diary?
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17 December 2006 22:37 / mirror_mirrorTime Magazine's Person of the Year is you. let's not get this confused with 'it is everyone'. you personally; you specifically. infinite loop: there's still time -->   |
06 November 2006 22:58 / but none of them sing about art dealers after they're goneYves Arman:   |
03 November 2006 12:18 / sez itTosh Bergman on the Eiffel Tower:   |
24 October 2006 21:18 / But then
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22 October 2006 16:03 / right back atcha |
22 October 2006 06:18 / 'kill lies all'
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12 October 2006 12:08 / oh maybe maybeSexual restraint at the state of the art -- The highest, as the lowest, form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty. There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all. The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in the glass. The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in the glass. The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium. No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true cannot be proved. No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything. Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art. Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art. From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type. All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface, do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol, do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital. When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself. We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely. All art is quite useless. it was for me as it was for many: Oscar Wilde was the first sloganeerist to catch my attention and throat my heart. this is the introduction to The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891, my favorite work of 'art criticism'. infinite loop --> oh baby baby   |
06 October 2006 10:41 / Liar liarGod. Heroes you acquire at age twelve are easy to forget. Not true. That's bullshit. I don't know why I forgot about Keith Haring, the art darling who slips between Matthew Barney and Andy Warhol, a bigger and truer prophet than either. This past week, I reread his diaries and official biography for the first time since 1995. Why can't I be like that? Well of course I can. Why aren't I like that already? Girl? Gah. From Keith Haring's diaries: Ha. He wishes? But he doesn't wish that at all. What a queer thing to say. Something There, Something There, Something Here... And: Swoon. Smart: Killer K. Can you believe his best friend Kermit grew up to make _frames_? Jesus fucking christ.   |
03 October 2006 14:03 / precise |
02 October 2006 14:49 / I said yum SALTYeah, I'm still reading Love Is Colder Than Death. I'm a very slow reader actually. pp. 119-120: So now I'm your private secretary. And if there's nothing to do, you'll think of something to keep me busy. The telephone rings. You don't answer anymore. That's beneath you. Mostly, you lie in bed, getting up only when it's dark.... I'm left to invent the excuses and the lies. I'm also your nurse. Not only do I have to cook, and serve you in bed, I must also look after you like a child, to make sure nothing bad happens to you. All night long you've taken cocaine and now it's four o'clock in the morning and you want to sleep. But you're too stimulated, so you have to take three Mandrax pills to calm you down. Then you remember you have to call Ingrid in Paris, to argue with her, so you take two more lines of coke and you're more awake than ever. More Mandrax. Suddenly the telephone receiver falls out of your hand and you collapse to the floor. My God, I think, now it's over. He's had a heart attack. I bend over you and listen to your chest. You're still breathing. You start to snore, so I drag you to bed and try to go to sleep myself. A little later, I find you in the bathroom sleeping very peacefully beside the toilet. I bring you back to bed again. You keep me going day and night. Rainer's relationship with Armin was rapidly deteriorating, too, and both Kurt and Armin were finding themselves more and more frequently locked out of the apartment and searching for places to sleep, sometimes for a week at a time. In March, Rainer shot his version of Clare Boothe's 1973 play The Women, which he called Women in New York. It was filmed in seven days just as he had staged it in Hamburg some months back, his final work in the theater. There were forty actresses and no men in the piece, and when released it was hailed as brilliant by some of his critics and as antiwomen by others. During the staging of Women in New York in Hamburg, Irm had gotten pregnant. As she's said, she always used contraceptives with Rainer, and whether he knew it or not, whenever her period was late, he would fill up with childlike delight, says Irm, "thinking at last it's happened." Their sexual relationship, however, left much to be desired, at least as far as Irm was concerned, and copulation between them was sometimes unnatural, if Rainer's indiscreet confidences are to be believed: there had been vegetable and mineral phallic substitutes. So it was not surprising that when conception finally took place, Rainer was somewhere else. I mean huh? It's one of the only places the book declines to give details. 'Vegetable and mineral substitutes'? I can't tell whether the author is trying to render, like, basically dildos extremely exotic, or whether he's being vague about something actually really bizarre, out of some impulse towards politeness that doesn't seem to exist elsewhere in the book.   |
27 September 2006 22:35 / perfectRaymond Radiguet:   |
12 September 2006 20:58 / oh baby babySexual jealousy at the state of the art
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04 August 2006 09:09 / 'Challenge and seduction are quite similar...' |
22 July 2006 13:33 / Barcelonely 2006At True to You: I am writing this in the city of Barcelona where, many years ago, I discovered the American writer James Baldwin sitting alone and somewhat lost in the darkened lobby of one of the city's oldest hotels. Surprised at being inches away from such a great man, I froze in sheepish clumsiness, circled him eleven times, before I realized that he could not possibly have any interest in being approached by someone who had spent all 25 years of their life locked in an attic because too awful to look at. So, I did nothing, walked on, and shortly thereafter he was dead. Yet another lesson.   |
28 May 2006 21:04 / Remorsep. 32 (collection: Blood Lake by Jim Krusoe, Boaz 1997) 'If there ever was a choice, it was not ours, but our parents', and by the time we realized that we might do things differently it was already far too late.'   |
25 March 2006 11:10 / The Thief's Journalp. 22 'This means that treachery is beautiful if it makes us sing.'   |
above are the entries filed under 'quoted'.all other entries are in the directory. some questions are answered at return the ring. |
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