Monday, July 27, 2009

big apples

once more in ny, this place is like therapy for my brain, toes and eyes.
the intersection of N people, heading in clashing directions, some survive, others fly.
new york is the best city to describe a place where there is no place at all, so many appropriations of a space which is constantly shifting and where its constant barriers say i belong to no one, but i want you to think i belong to you.

possession is a complex state of being.
we want to call this home.
yet i believe we possess nothing.

we walk and run and stay static in many places, dromology makes our perception of speed transit at distinct paces, this city pulses on this fact, everything moves at rates that don´t contain any specific pattern, yet they are all continually moving forward, but in endless directions.
i guess ones eyes must keep up with the fact that we all are treading towards the "end", when we must pay attention to the sparks, reflections, and refractions that lye in the middle.

high line park.
it rained, the sun was shinning on one side of the park and on the other it was pouring, my shoes got wet, i had an umbrella. the light was white, it lit up the water.
spencer finchs´, "the river that flows both ways" is simple (simple in the positive aspect of simple, meaning less is more) but extensive work into the analysis and the abstract representation of the color conditions of the hudson river in the period of 1 day.

a cigarette on the border of the water, a plane taking off in the distance, the sky cleared into yellow and beige shades, rocks on the shore growing electric green plants. a broken down dock, a rusted fence, the city in the distance depicting the imposed position of human in nature.. both subsisting out of one another to create eccentric harmony.

glorious intoxication brewed by skies, rain, sun, rocks, pavement and old traintracks.

Monday, July 20, 2009

wa wa wa woww

best news arrives by "post"...
a postcard from erlend Øye writing that the new kings of convenience album will be ready by the end of september, then they will be touring and with no doubt i believe we can expect a concert here in mexico around the end of the year.
i think i almost cried.
happy happy happiest day.

a radio rip for a new song mrs. cold from their new album is available here.

with all implied redundancy, once more.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

On Allen Ginsberg & Joy Division

listening to joy division, i decided to take the afternoon and read, HOWL by Allen Ginsberg seemed a likely choice, it had been a gift and was patiently waiting for me... the colors that were being painted outside my window had a strange lighting; yellow and grey... the shadows struggled to have it´s last seconds of the day... this inspired the setting... i quickly got into it and let the music run on, as i finished the book, an unusual feeling crept into my mind for the pairing of both...
both sublime tragedy..
so i continue..

it´s truly interesting to analyze how ginsberg manages to paint such vast perspectives in simple phrases, phrases that turn ones mind into a channel of ones depths. the introspection on a poetry book such as HOWL, makes raw emotions symmetrically/ asymmetrically beautiful, real and human, visual images created through text and irony... a whole universe of reality is quickly presented before ones hand.
a cathartic experience is evident to say.
one that leaves this lingering feeling of truth and contemplation through life´s extreme dysphoria, bliss, and everything that lies in between.

fragment. HOWL & OTHER POEMS.

.... a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon...
screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars...
.. who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons...
.. who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads everyday for the next decade...
... or where run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality...
... who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if i had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity...
...who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other´s salvation and light and breasts until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,..
... and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychoteraphy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia...
... and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the eclipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane...
... to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head.

...Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the mind!...
... Moloch in whom i sit lonely! Moloch in whom i dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!...
... Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom i am a consciousness without a body!
::. Moloch! Moloch! robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible mad houses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!

i´m with you in rockland
where you laugh at this invisible humor
i´m with you in rockland
where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter.
i´m with you in rockland
where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio
i´m with you in rockland
where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse
i´m with you in rockland
where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls airplanes roaring over the roof they´ve come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we´re free.

the room closed down on me, i expected the presence of the Creator, i saw my gray painted walls and ceiling, they contained my room, the contained me
as the sky contained my garden,
i opened my door.
...the animal heads of the flowers where they had arisen
to think of the sun.
... the privilege to witness my existence- you too must seek the son...
i am so lonely in my glory-- except they too out there-- i looked up--those red bush blossoms beckoning and peering in the window waiting in blind love, their leaves too have hope and are upturned top flat to the sky to receive-- all creation open to receive-- the flat earth itself.
the closet door is open for me, where i left it, since i left it open, it has graciously stayed open....

... how many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, while you cursed the heavens of the railroad and your flower soul?
poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive?
... you were never no locomotive, sunflower, you were a sunflower!
and you locomotive, you are a locomotive...

we´re not our skin of grime, we´re not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we´re all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we´re blessed by our own seed & golden hairy naked accomplishment bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sit-down vision.

... to be so lying in the living
room drunk naked
and dreaming in the absence
of electricity...

Cildo Meireles.

at the almost culmination of a truly enriching cultural weekend, came the Cildo Meireles exhibit at MUAC.
as i travelled from room to room, the idea and conception of time, space, life, perception in general, became a bit clearer...
meireles, a brazilian born artist, manages an intense abstraction of the factors i just mentioned.. it felt like the spectator was being given a complete panorama into "life", the expo. travels through almost all sensory experiences such as smell, sound, touch, and sight of course..

his conception of space and how he represents it, is definitely precise, the merger of both time and space becomes this trip into a room full of clocks and rulers, clocks with time undone, and rulers in their skeleton form, numbers out of place, apparent "chaos", their true function blurred into a room of CHANCE... the "paradox" of these coexisting is when the spectator has touched that exact floor, at the exact moment, so that harmony may arise and their lines intersect.

stepping on glass, hearing the glass break in the distance, looking into a mirror without a face, a tower of radios, the music, the interference, the beauty and the frustration of the no-order...
taking the body into the art, the mind going beyond its vision, and acting upon the senses.
the real, the represented and the illusion.

it was enlightening to view this expo at this time, my thesis had something to do with the exploration of objects (specifically platonic solids) in euclidean space, how an idea may be mapped, and how its core meaning, its real reality (with all implied redundancy), how it´s transformed and how someone else perceives it... all being different points ARE contained in the same idea, they must coexist, and they must know that they are the same "thing" but at the same time, they are also antithetical.

once more, paradoxes are lovely.

exhibit_ july 2009- january 2010.

insurgentes sur 3000

Andrea Balency

honey flows from the mouth and fingers of this truly talented artist, the other day, i witnessed something that felt special.. she sang at bataclán.. amidst 40 people..
i don´t know why being there reminded me of this scene from 24 hour party people, when tony wilson describes he was witnessing history as he saw the sex pistols play a gig for about forty-something people.. and then he goes on in the movie saying, "the smaller the crowd the bigger the history".. he tells this guy, "how many people where at the last supper" (this got a laugh out of me.. )
(just wanted to point out that it felt special, maybe it´s not history, but i know and have this gut feeling that it will be something... maybe andrea balency´s music has nothing to do with the sex pistols, so i´ll continue)
the thing is this, andrea has this exquisite voice, i´ve heard her demo tapes, and she´s better live than on record, tell me how many artists have the privilege to be better live? plus she writes her own music, she plays the piano like she were drinking a glass of water, the accordion and etceteras.. she usually plays/sings alone, but the other day she was accompanied by two band members on counter bass and percussion.
harmony and honey is a perfect description for this 19 year old french slash mexican girl, who oscillates between singing in french, spanish and english...
passing on the information and hoping someone will check it out.
for that to happen, one must


she´s playing a gig with juan manuel torreblanca at casa hilvana on the 23rd.

Friday, July 3, 2009

es que veo clarerrimo a (blur)

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 1:55 del 02 de julio

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 1:56 del 02 de julio
barbijin intruso

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 1:57 del 02 de julio
intruso tu a (blur).
lleno de claridad.

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 1:57 del 02 de julio
imaginariamente me encantaria que diario.

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:00 del 02 de julio
no, no lo borro, barbijita acompañante.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:01 del 02 de julio
hasta que la barbijimuerte nos separe

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:02 del 02 de julio
obvio ratillita medianochera.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:05 del 02 de julio
adivina el juego de palabras mbjvj sólo tienes 2 shots... o words... y si barbie, i see the picture

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:05 del 02 de julio
hardcore malibu stuff

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:06 del 02 de julio

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:06 del 02 de julio
ok, i can´t see it.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:06 del 02 de julio
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr hace la ratillita al ritmo de la canción

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:07 del 02 de julio
and then she goes woo hoo.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:08 del 02 de julio
cheque tu horóscopo

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:09 del 02 de julio
i´m a scorpio, by the way.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:09 del 02 de julio
es que es el chino

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:10 del 02 de julio
pelo de hijo único

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:10 del 02 de julio
junnney.. you lost me.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:11 del 02 de julio
napoleon blast

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:11 del 02 de julio
eat the fucking food tina.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:12 del 02 de julio
pásame el barbijin

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:13 del 02 de julio
honey te veo con muy buenos principios

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:14 del 02 de julio
honey, con muy buenos principios y morales.. con esa actitud no te pasaré ningún barbijin, just the malibu barbie hardcore shit

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:16 del 02 de julio
wait... now it´s just hot.

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:16 del 02 de julio

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:16 del 02 de julio
mmmm 25 metros (manita "honey")

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:17 del 02 de julio
....dijo la nariz, la boca, la ceja, la frente y el ojo.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:17 del 02 de julio
y el barbijin

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:18 del 02 de julio
o la shancla

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:18 del 02 de julio
o el clush.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:20 del 02 de julio
si y fuera tu, vestiría a winna de pato

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:20 del 02 de julio
si yo

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:21 del 02 de julio
claro, si tú fueras yo.
y si tú fueras yo, también te vestirias de delfin.
como ahora lo hago.

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:22 del 02 de julio
o de horóscopo chino.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:23 del 02 de julio
por eso robé los zapatos de umpa lumpa disco

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:23 del 02 de julio
o de jamiroquai.

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:24 del 02 de julio
that´s what i like to call midnight fun, jamiroquai, oompa loompas, a pencil, and some cigarettes.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:26 del 02 de julio
barbie, you rock my world.

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:27 del 02 de julio
no, you do.

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:28 del 02 de julio
no you do

Dea Arjona ha escrito a las 2:29 del 02 de julio
y con ésta frase me despido "ya los cacharon durísimo"

Michell Halley ha escrito a las 2:30 del 02 de julio

_si alguién le está tratando de encontrar sentido a esta conversación, no tiene ninguno en lo absoluto.

en memoria de