Gaga Nazis

Jun. 11th, 2010 12:22 pm
limnrix: (Default)
From Kraken by China Mieville:
Most wizards of chaos would bore you arseless about how the chaos they tapped was emancipation, that their nonlinear conjuring was the antithesis of the straight-lined bordering mindset that led, they insisted, to Birchenau, blah fucking blah. But it was always a sleight of politics to stress only that aspect of the far right. There was another, somewhat repressed but no less faithful and faithfully fascist tradition: the decadent baroque.

Among the fascist sects, the most flamboyant, eager as Strasserites to reclaim what they insisted was the true for of a deviated movement, where the Chaos Nazies. The creaking black leather of the SS, they insisted to the tiny few who would listen, and not run or kill them on sight, were a cowards pornography, a prissy corruption of tradition.

Look instead, they said, to the rage in the east. Look to the autonomous terror-cell-structure of Operation Werewolf. Look to the sybarite orgies in Berlin, that were not corruption but culmination. Look to the holiest date in their calendar: Kristallnacht, all those chaos scintillas on stone. Nazism, they insisted, was excess, not prig-restraint, not that superego gusset bureaucrats had chosen.

Their symbol was the eight-pointed chaos star altered to make a Moorcock weep, its diagonal arms belt fylfot, a swastika that pointed in all directions. What is "Law", they said, what is Chaos's nemesis bu the Torah? What is Law but Jewish Law, which is Jewishness itself, and so what is Chaos but the renunciation of that filthy Torah-Bolshevist code? What was best in humanity but the will and rage and indulgence, do what thou wilt the autopoeiesis of the Ubermensch? And so, endlessly, on.

They were provacateurs, of course, and a ludicrously tiny group, but notorious even among the wicked for occasional acts of unbelievable, artistic cruelty, restoring the true spirit of their prophets. Sure the Final Solution was efficient, they insisted, but it was soulless. "The problem with Auschwitz", they insisted, "is that is was the wrong sort of 'camp'!" Their hoped-for Chaos Fuhrer, they thought, might achieve a sufficiently artistic genocide.


Alejandro


(Dresden)
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I'm going to elaborate this. This has got to be a pretty well-established philosophical mindfuck of absolutely no consequence whatsoever.
Any object around you could be a telepathic mind. Since this telepathy is its only sense organ, it experiences what you do vicariously and has no way of knowing it's not you. More accurately, you have no way of recognizing your remote-percieving self in your environment and may never even encounter yourself. In fact, you may be an object reading the mind of another mind-reading object, or anything else along that chain. Better, you could be any arbitrarily defined body along the stream. You could be another person, with that person's perceptions transmitted elsewhere. If there was data leakage, you may be able to recognize your vessel or medium.
You know what? This is feeling kind of Deleuzian. What I'm curious about is whether anyone has developed this as a particular paranoid schizophrenic delusion (deleuzian delusion. hee). Like they decided they were a particular thing and got very protective of it. This delusion could be a kind of holistic karma, although I don't think you have any ethical obligations toward mindreading objects. Since it's still necessarily your specific body making whatever consciousness is, that's the only relevant presence. Still, something could be phreaking you and storing your memories. And freaking you, if you're so inclined.
For example, I suspect that I am actually the Wellbutrin I just started taking.

erogation

Feb. 3rd, 2010 01:38 pm
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Dreamed that there was one song the Builders and the Butchers performed (probably this one) during which they incited a large wave to come onto a small beach. I asked Ryan Sollee about this and he called it "erogating", and said that Tom Waits was the best erogator.

If you know me you know that tidal waves not only appear over and over in my dreams but that their symbolism has become incorporated into the dreams. I was lucid enough in this to control the wave, or at least not consider avoiding it a problem, preferring to discuss its artistic motivations.

HOPE

Jan. 27th, 2010 10:22 pm
limnrix: It's meant to look like that (distortion)
Two nights ago I responded to a request by NY Cares for New York City's Department of Homeless Services's (DHS) annual Homeless Outreach Population Estimate (HOPE). In groups of 2-6 we were to go out and count the number of homeless in the city, section by section, in the middle of the night.
The DHS has been operating these surveys for 7 years, and the outcome has mostly been to provide the Mayor's office with an indicator of "progress" in clearing more and more people from the streets every year. Bloomberg has come under scruitiny for supporting housing trends that price out low-income residents, combining recently with the recession to create more homeless in the city than ever before. In response, the city government can point to the efforts of the DHS, their outreach and shelters. They are responsible for the ads on the subway featuring picturesque (white, clearly models) vagrants, and discouraging commuters from feeding the animals giving panhandlers money.
Before I slip into it too far, I'll refrain from a Village Leftist kneejerk criticality, and look at the function of the volunteers and how this survey may benefit the underclass.
I signed up to work in Queens but wasn't assigned a location there so went to DHS's office in the Financial district and was assigned to group 23 with three other new volunteers. Our group, in the usual redundant committee manner, appointed the eldest member, who had a hybrid car from the city motor pool, as team leader. The DHS had an hour to inform a room full of warm sleepy do-gooders how to treat who we encountered and administer the one-page housing survey, with surprisingly little resistance created by stupidity on both sides. The most problematic parts of the distributed instruction book concerned the rare instances when we encountered someone who needed medical attention or wanted to go to a shelter. There were vans to call when we met the latter.
We were told to follow the letter of the survey itself, although it became more conversationalized in good practice. This was a few questions about whether we could ask, and what kind of place the subject lived in, followed by, if we judged them homeless, demographics like age, sex, ethnicity, and location. Our mostly didn't notice the conditionality of the second set of observations. The most important question was, of course, #6: "Do you think this person is homeless?" I may get a bit Foucault here and note how emphatically the entire event approached the creation of a distinct "homeless" category, and required the volunteers to construct that class. We were to apply the survey to everyone we met, in the hopes of encountering someone who broke type, but this only reinforced the distinction. During the training hour, it was, whether the volunteers realized it or not, the responsibility of determining homelessness on sight, regardless of what the subject said, that volunteers had the most trouble with. We were to base this on stereotypical signs of vagrancy: "disheveled appearance", a cart full of belongings. My great aunt would have been judged homeless, 7 years ago. The example we ran through in training was of someone who "stayed with a friend" but who was supposed to clearly fit in the homeless category. We did run into someone like this, who may have previously been in rehab or jail or simply priced out, and I felt the interviewer led his answers toward not being homeless, in assumption.
We had two 2-3 block areas to walk on a predetermined path, and were to talk to everyone we encountered who wasn't clearly working or asleep. For the first time this year, some groups were assigned police escorts, and we were one. I don't know what about this area made it the recipient of this experiment. The cops were the youngest of the group, and cute, but their presence probably hindered our accuracy as well as our confidence.
Decoys were supposedly stationed in each area. If they were supposed to tell us they were decoys, we encountered none. Our area was a Lower East Side sub-bridge residential wasteland, too windy and open and probably full of available couches for good urban camping, but low-traffic enough that we found at least five more places we'd expect people to be sleeping than we found such people. In fact, we only found one clearly homeless, in a grocery loading dock with several other pallets that indicated that on other nights he had company. The cops spotted his cart parked outside, and we were all so excited to have found him that we probably disturbed his sleep. Although I was to fill out the form, I felt enough of us had already ogled him that I left it to others to enter a physical description.
We interviewed nine others, on the street at 1 am, who lived nearby or were waliing. Their answers were confidential, but about half didn't have the time to answer any questions at all, which was easier. We did interrupt a cab-based dispute and almost accidentally interviewed a cabbie. Some were glad to chat local government, this being the LES. One, who had been caught by another group earlier, noted that it was "a weird night - a lot of regular people but not a lot of homeless people". It was wet and warm for January. I felt I saw more people sleeping in the subways than usual, coming home.
I suspect that the call for volunteers made the survey event known to the city's homeless even more than in previous years, even if just as a rumor. I suspect many of them broke routine, sought public or private shelter, or stayed mobile that night, simply out of a paranoia about conspicuousness. Many may be very conscious that not being counted means Bloomberg can claim DHS's outreach and shelters a success, or that funding for DHS, and the nosy outreach program with its anti-panhandling message, would be reduced.
I can't judge whether DHS is good or bad for the homeless, because they are not a consistent category for whom the same strategy works as a whole. I believe it is very good for those who do often need shelter, regardless of the violence that sometimes occurs in the shelters (and would probably happen anyway). I don't think the ads have significantly discouraged panhandling's supply side. (By the way, those guys with the sandwiches are scam artists.) Unlike DHS, I don't think the city's goal should be to get everyone living in public (or in ATMs or on the subway, etc.) into an apartment with a job. There is simply nowhere for that money to come from. Naturally, getting those with mental health problems into care is important, and they're doing well reducing starvation or death from exposure. But the opportunity to choose against one's supposed interests is also important. A program that has the best interests of the homeless in mind would not discourage squatters (the DHS is mostly silent on this issue), although at present I'm pretty sure there isn't a huge squatting movement, likely because private property owners are preventing it.
While I know that everyone working for the DHS, and the volunteers, mean well, I don't think they realized how much their efforts this year led to undercounting. I'm not a sociologist or a statistician - please provide input if you are. I also don't know whether the undercounting will be celebrated by the city or mean budget cuts for DHS or both. If the latter, Operation Scare Off the Homeless, with this year's increased publicity, budget, and workforce, probably did more harm than good, despite goodly intentions of census-like objectivity. Because I like information, I hope I'm wrong.
limnrix: It's meant to look like that (distortion)
My narrative medium is the mix!
I have divided it into three parts for download frustration (and also because they're about CD length)(and to minimize damage if I have to take anything down). Each has a bit of art. The art dividers are the download links. Songs with links are to videos, when the video improves the song even more. 8tracks mixes (also imbedded below)1, 2, 3. Naturally, you will pick and choose amongst them, so I've tried to cluster by genre and mood, somewhat.


0 TITLE ARTIST ALBUM





1 Bad Romance Lady GaGa The Fame Monster 4:57
2 Fixin To Thrill Dragonette Fixin To Thrill 4:08
3 I Feel Cream Peaches I Feel Cream 4:33
4 Actor Out Of Work St. Vincent Actor 2:15
5 Turn It on Franz Ferdinand Tonight Franz Ferdinand 2:21
6 Games For Days Julian Plenti is... Skyscraper 3:57
7 1901 Phoenix Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix 3:18
8 Sweetheart Micachu Jewellery 0:53
9 Michael Telepathe Dance Mother 4:15
10 All The Kings Men Wild Beasts Two Dancers 4:00
11 Little Secrets Passion Pit Manners 3:59 (their videos are making me like them even better)
12 Zero Yeah Yeah Yeahs It's Blitz! 4:26
13 Glass Bat For Lashes Two Suns 4:33
14 Hell Tegan & Sara Sainthood 3:25 (Amanda Palmer Karaoke Verite)
15 Idiot Heart Sunset Rubdown Dragonslayer 6:09
16 Psychic City YACHT See Mystery Lights 5:09
17 New In Town Little Boots Hands 3:19
18 Summertime Clothes Animal Collective Merriweather Post Pavilion 4:32
19 Daylight Outro Mix Matt & Kim Grand 3:11
20 Moonson Delorean Ayrton Senna EP 3:45





21 M Telefon Tel Aviv Immolate Yourself 3:42
22 Tricky Tricky Röyksopp Junior 5:59
23 The Fear Lily Allen It's Not Me, It's You 3:26
24 Dominos The Big Pink A Brief History Of Love 3:46
25 One Day The Juan MacLean The Future Will Come 4:17
26 Bulletproof La Roux 3:27
27 2012 Gossip Music For Men 3:50
28 Break Up Girls! The Raveonettes In And Out Of Control 4:00
29 The End Vivian Girls Everything Goes Wrong 3:16
30 Hot Song Talk Normal Sugarland 4:06
31 Wet Hair Japandroids Post-Nothing (Promo) 3:12
32 So Bored Wavves Wavvves 3:14
33 The Turn Around The Oh Sees Help 1:03
34 Keep Me In Dark The Fiery Furnaces I'm Going Away 4:04
35 Shelter The xx xx 4:30
36 Stillness Is the Move The Dirty Projectors Bitte Orca 5:14
37 Real Live Flesh Tune-Yards Bird-Brains 3:33






38 People Got a Lotta Nerve Neko Case Middle Cyclone 2:34
39 The Forest Mirah (A)Spera 3:30
40 Avalanches Jordaan Mason And The Horse Museum Divorce Lawyers I Shaved My Head 2:18
41 Hands Like Roots The Builders And The Butchers Salvation Is A Deep Dark Well 2:18
42 See The Leaves The Flaming Lips Embryonic 4:24
43 Easy Thao with the Get Down Stay Down Know Better Learn Faster 3:37
44 Dog Days Are Over Florence And The Machine Lungs 4:16
45 The Wooden Chair Jenny Wilson Hardships! 3:15
46 Gimme Sympathy Metric Fantasies 3:55
47 Sylvia The Antlers Hospice 5:25
48 Triangle Walks Fever Ray Fever Ray 4:23 (really hard to pick a favorite song. This video looks like her live show.)
49 Bloody Palms Phantogram Eyelid Movies 3:32
50 Fake Out Bear In Heaven Beast Rest Forth Mouth 3:14
51 Trace A Line Au Revoir Simone Still Night, Still Light 3:58
52 On Rose Walk, Insomniac Why? Eskimo Snow 2:08
53 It's All Good Bob Dylan Together Through Life 5:28
limnrix: (Default)
Subject to editing and the addition of 10 more albums.
21-30 )
11-20 )

top 10 )
limnrix: It's meant to look like that (distortion)
I often feel that many domestic partnerships are barely based on romantic or sexual involvement. Perhaps some of the arguments toward eliminating marriage altogether consider that an association of friends or family could be as stable as the erotic and post-erotic bond. At the same time, I would be betraying some deeply held values to advocate for more sociality or, more importantly, for stigmatizing isolation. The goal is to make no lifestyle choice its own punishment, but the resources for this may be beyond any known system.
There's a whole radical psychology/sociology about the neurosis of family structure, and particularly the cultural imposition of romantic pair-bonding that won't work for many of those who seek it.
I don't like to necessarily demonize "pop culture" or even that phantom mainstream. I prefer not to argue that any accident of nurture, barring serious neglect or abuse and its multigenerational cycles, is "wrong".
I read a passage in Bolaño's 2666 today that I think is a parody of Marquez. The Mexican "family history" consists of a series of identically named women, all raped as teenagers. It's a kind of nasty brutal shortness, without patriarchy, that actually appears to me more of a utopia.
What it comes down to is a question of whether any society can be entirely autonomous, self-supporting individuals. Children always prevent it. And the bogey keeping the argument for traditional family structure going is the empoverished single mother. It may or may not be that government-organized social support is the only solution to this.
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I can barely remember this from this morning, unfortunately. But: Tina Fey (Liz Lemon?) set up an alternate society with a religious bent in a kind of micro-world that they didn't know extended further. It seemed like a Matrix plot except that later I filled in that she'd had to buy the property to do this. Also, there was another one that was somehow tied to the first one - like, same people, different culture?
Sequel: I talk to a new dealer on a forest path, and am overheard.
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As at least one of you already knows, my birthday is October 12th. I don't make enough for luxuries, so I would appreciate anything you could get me from my Amazon Wishlist,







or come to Nothing For Itself and buy a painting. Or, you know, leave Steve some money so artists can keep showing there:







I'll probably have another reception/birthday party later in the month.
limnrix: (Default)
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE 9/9/09

Nothing For Itself
Pluralist Paintings Born In the Middle of Salad
October 1-31
Opening Saturday Oct. 3rd, 6 pm
Back to the Wall Gallery / A Gathering of the Tribes
385 E. 3rd St. #2
New York, NY 10009

A show of young emerging artists in irrationally exuberant involvement with the city, curated by Janet Bruesselbach with Allison Moore, Jason Talley, and Julio Stanly Flores

The diversity of these artists emerges in contrast with their similarity. They are occupied both with the human body and with the tactility of paint. Representation gives itself over to the object and submits to an orgy of feedback. This is not art for its own sake, but anything for the sake of anything else. Vivacity is exchange between a body and its environment, and New York in its still-modern postmodernity enlivens our images. Chaotic and yet completely intentional, these funnels for desire, their entropy, and the life of objects that they suggest, make for a colorful carnival of the Fall.

Allison Moore generates neo-cubist responses to market environments, in lurid, intoxicated colors and shapes. She's bicoastal. moore.a01@gmail.com

Jason Talley assembles superbly rendered figures and toys into Freudian-tinged erotic tableau, playing with explicitness and our resistance to it.

JS Flores engages the surface of figurative paintings, mating visual effects with tactility. His figures are warped by their media, giving them a powerful presence. This engages a destructive tension towards human flesh.

Janet Bruesselbach improvisationally composes surreal oil paintings with a playful disregard for gravity and depth, in which everything is figure.

As well as being a vivid image, "born in the middle of salad" is that anti-utopian metaphor of New York not as melting pot but, in the imperfect way of all metaphors, a multi-cultural, multi-directional conglomeration of tastes.

For more information, contact janet@bruesselbach.com / (310) 617-3366
limnrix: (Default)
Dream I had last night was set in "Detroit", which was, from one vantage, a gleaming city on a hill. From within, it was a giant shopping mall. I told everyone I met how awful it all was to be built expressly so that nobody ever walked on the streets, white people took cars and black people tried to keep the white people scared away from the center, etc etc. A little girl that I was helping with directions or something stole my money. Also, there was a speedy way through that wasn't a car, but by boat on the river - but the river went underground and became fast and there were rapids. I ended up in a boat in these. I think my parents were there. There were docks along the river at which giant gym mats were being unloaded.

I think I may have some kind of virus.

en ligne

Aug. 6th, 2009 12:19 pm
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Okay, I have now sufficiently slept in and will try to summarize yesterday.
I'm in Montreal. That weird feeling one always gets in Canada that it's not foreign enough appears here as definite foreign-ness. Yet this city perfectly catered to my attitude towards tourism: within 15 minutes I had located sushi and Indian food, and was bus-spotting. The air smells alpine. The desk folk at the Auberge des Jeu[rest of letters on sign dead] asked what music I wanted to listen to as I checked in, and put on soft jazz when I told them I didn't care, and Peaches when I said the soft jazz was porn music. I don't speak Quebecois, or French, for that matter, so I'm using my polite confused smile and nod a lot, even if everyone I talk to understands English. They recommended an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant, which was not particularly good, but comfort food, and I was very hungry.
I haven't headed over to Worldcon yet. I kind of dislike being at a Worldcon alone, because I feel excluded even surrounded by people brought together by their social exclusion. The train was mostly fen by the time it reached Montreal - I recognized many, and didn't particularly feel like talking to any of them. I'm in such a black mood lately I really don't want to have anything to do with people and would prefer to just interact with places and things. I'd prefer someone to snark with. Fuck I'm lonely. I forgot my Celexa, too, so I'm going to be a bitch.
I took the train up. It took 12 hours, and midway through a senior tour group took over all the seats and then constantly visited with each other. It was supposedly the anniversary of the Adirondack route so they handed out Hershey's bars wrapped in secondary Amtrak packaging. We were only an hour late, which I consider a rare blessing, having been delayed by 3 last time I did a border crossing on a train.
My roommates at the hostel are a German girl my age and a middle aged English woman who seems to have neglected to tell me her name when I introduced myself. I am told I look like the girl on the bunk above me but haven't seen her yet.
I can't get voicemail on my phone. Texting might be iffy too. I'm hoping to run into somebody I like, although since I'm also misanthropic at present it may not happen. I find coffee now.

dreams

Jul. 29th, 2009 07:32 pm
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So I just had a late afternoon nap, because my desires lately have become reduced to very simple eat-sleep-fuck, and in it, my apartment building was a bit more like a hotel. A lot of people have been moving out lately, and in the dream, there was an empty one-bedroom on the third floor that a maid was cleaning up. Right outside the window of the kitchen, there was a jacuzzi and a very small pool. I decided to hide in the pool (from an indeterminate villain who, in my dream-imagination, resembled Dick Cheney), so, known only to my sister who happened by, I repeatedly dove and hid in the darker, lower parts of the pool. I continued to do this until I couldn't stand to nap any more. Interesting what happens to that hiding-desire we develop as children, when it persists into adulthood. The pleasure of hiding depends on the fear of discovery, but discovery, in my grown-up dream universe, never came - not out of my subconscious, on which I was depending - I've never had a very strong superego. If we hide as adults we simply are never found, and there is no benefit to anyone.

A dream I had last night/this morning involved a band that was a combination of Marnie Stern and the Polysics, which is just pure fantasy, really.

Words

Jul. 6th, 2009 03:36 am
limnrix: (Default)
Via [personal profile] ase: reply to this meme by yelling (or even saying gently) "Words!" and I will give you five words that remind me of you. Then post them in your LJ and explain what they mean to you.


Indie Twitter Cities Fiction Karaoke )
limnrix: It's meant to look like that (distortion)
Often the most memorable things in my dreams are the settings.
Recently I've had more than one dream in which the subway system has a specific shape. The names and colors of the lines are similar to NYC but the city they're in is different. I particularly remember that there's a blue line that I often got on the wrong line of and end up on an island in sort-of-Brooklyn. The station is in an industrial area and very deep and partially elevated, so you can see the train come in from stairs above it.

Another city that's appeared in my dreams, a few months ago, was written off by me as "somewhere in Malaysia" but Not Quala Lumpur (for some reason). It was a long city - stretched out along a train line. My family and I stayed somewhere with a view from a rooftop and a lot of pigeons. As a result I ended up actually looking at Singapore on Google maps, because I realized I had no idea how it was shaped.

I feel like I know a lot more about a city by looking at a map of it, and yet sometimes it takes a long time of discussing the history before one looks at the geography. There is, for example, an effective mystery about the shape of Ul Qoma and Bezel in Mieville's The City and the City - and an outdated map ends up being a plot point.
limnrix: (Default)
"It is a remarkable thing that the hostility she feels toward her husband or lover attaches her to him instead of alienating her away from him. A man who has begun to detest his wife or mistress tries to get away from her; but woman wants to have the man she hates close at hand so she can make him pay... she will turn defeat itself into victory... she considers the struggle unfair from the start, because no other effective weapon has been put in her hands." (608)

"When she imposes herself on a man, be it through promised benefits, or in staking on his courtesy, or by artfully arousing his desire in its pure generality, she readily persuades herself she is overwhelming him with her bounty. Thanks to this advantageous position, she can make advances... because she feels she is doing so out of generosity." (689)
limnrix: (Default)
In response to what argues for the autonomy of inanimate objects, and particularly words:
Language uses us to assert its autonomy. But contrary to the masculine idea celebrating an object's autonomy by its lower degree of hybridity, I argue the majority of things have an interest not in asserting themselves but in representing others or acting as conduits or being used.
I find that almost all my agency is a democratic argument between the substances of my body, which is highly permeable by its environment. I am a relationship between things. The tiny portion of my brain I can call my consciousness is just along for the ride.

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