cheerleader x overly strict english teacher x catwoman x small boy
i'm kind of little, and i have even less to do
Hooray for Tom Polo, winner of the totally, awesomely staged Inaugural B.E.S.T. Contemporary Art Prize. (It’s a good kind of staged that you should read about on the art life.)
“It’s a mysteriously beautiful recording from, I am told, Robbie Robertson’s label. It’s of crickets. That’s right, crickets, the first time I heard it… I swore I was listening to the Vienna Boys Choir, or the Mormon Tabernacle choir. It has a four-part harmony it is a swaying choral panorama. Then a voice comes in on the tape and says, “What you are listening to is the sound of crickets. The only thing that has been manipulated is that they slowed down the tape.” No effects have been added of any kind except that they changed the speed of the tape. The sound is so haunting. I played it for Charlie Musselwhite and he looked at me as if I pulled a Leprechaun out of my pocket.”
Talking Heads - The Great Curve
FTWWWWWWW!!!!!
The world moves on a womans hips
The world moves and it swivels and bops
The world moves on a womans hips
The world moves and it bounces and hopsfuck yeah.
I'm always vaguely surprised when I read recent/contemporary writing that people say is good and/or has been praised in general media and I actually think it is. This is because I am - albeit with efforts not to be - appallingly condescending in my estimates of the capabilities of most readers.
I’ve just started a paperback of The Unbearable Lightness of Being given to me by my friend and official Wonderful Ukrainian Man Vlad. He insisted that it was good, and I gave in after years of thinking it was a book for sloppy(/ier?) existentialists or people who treat literature like current affairs all must.stay.apprised.no.time.for.fun.let’s.be.earnest and after lunch we picked it up from his funny little room at UTS and I laughed at the posters of him in the halls (he’s an RA) and the book ended up in a month-long digression (much like this one) in the bottom of a bag I don’t carry all that often but did that day and did again today and came across it on my bus home from work and started and was put off by the lightness/weight Nietzsche blar of the first little section, but then it got all etymological and sexy and I think it’s clever and am enjoying it to the point of actually reading it as I walked down the street because I didn’t want to not be reading it.
Serge Gainsbourg duets with France Gall on Les Sucettes which he wrote for her as a children’s song. She - a seventeen year old extreme ingenue, c.f. the clip for the released version of the song sung only by her - was apparently pretty horrified by the subtext (“Hey you guys? Fellatio’s pretty neat, huh?”) that was made evident to her via public response to the release; Serge was pretty amused, as is very evident in his demeanour here. Nice background props, too.
A perfectly perfect yé-yé pop moment. Okay it was a kind of shitty thing to’ve done, but I still love you SG.
