7,6,5 no voice of the beehive

And thus we continue. Mostly, it’s not about “my top 10″ so much as those I remember when I think “music video”.

7:  Seeing Grace Jones in any capacity has left its mark on me, especially when she and Dolph Lundgren did that naked photo shoot for Playboy in the 80s & especially once the lady started advertising for those Honda Elite Scooters.  But I digress! This vid stands as a testament to all things  music video had to offer at the time and to the beginnings of the classic music video format. To me it always looked like DaDa – like Hugo Ball and Tristan Tzara were dug up just for the occasion of creating this little moment for Miz Jones.

People painted colors, singing heads on a television set filmed to be shown on television (wheels within wheels), sped up video dancing, & antique bathing costumes are just the beginning… robo headed Grace Jones!

Grace Jones, Slave to the Rhythm


6: This is the first music video I ever saw, the first time I ever switched on MTV, first there was the astronaut with his flag and then there was this, all in 1982  (see also Bauhaus, Mask #9).  I will never forget Mr. Billy Joel falling into the carpet which was really shaving foam while haughty society women look on put out by his gauche actions.   I feel  the guns of pressure pointed at my head…  Classic dystopic future themes, ruined loafers, water glass stress, and more

. I’m not a Billy Joel fan but I still like it when I hear this song, thanks to the video.

5: I’ve inadvertently gone back to spooky town with this offering of Coil covering tainted love .

This video did more for my sense of safe sexual practices and understanding of the sheer tragic loss from HIV related complications and the ugliness of not knowing one’s STD status than any public service announcement ever did.  Was it the flies and honey?  Maybe.  Perhaps it was the dirgelike cover in combination with the Nosferatu -esque moments… or maybe it was just the times.

Either way, this video introduced me to Coil and for that I will always be grateful.

Tainted Love, Coil


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10,9,8 Videos I appreciate

Music, when married to imagery in  youth up into my early 20s probably broke open my eye better than any other artistic combination.  And so, here I begin my series of 10 with those videos that have stuck with me from the moment I clapped eyes on them, for better or worse until death do us part.

10: Oh Sonic Youth, it’s a toss up.  How can I possibly choose between Death Valley 69 and any another Sonic Youth video?  Death Valley is such a classic.   Dirty Boots has the romance, McBeth is pure trash with pure trash music making it one of my favorite videos… I could go on but really the best video in the Sonic Youth category can’t help but be the evil marriage of Richard Kern, Lydia Lunch, Lung Leg, and Sonic Youth for the real murders and their sonic take on the whole affair.  This shattered my vision of music and image fantasy and took me somewhere entirely new when I first saw it:


9: Oh  bauhaus how can I possibly express the terror driven into my psychotropicaly frazzled mind by the viewing of this video? I’m ahead of myself though, as that terror wouldn’t have been felt until at LEAST 1986.  So perhaps I was permanently shaded to a fine grey from seeing this at an early age.  Either way I fell hard and fast for the band known as bauhaus and forever defended their brilliant artistrty & dark passion once I viewed this gem I’ve dug up from the past.  Call me spooky tooth, but this is better than most of what 1981 had to offer (and I’m looking right at you “Jessie’s Girl” and your kiss is NOT on my list Hall and Oates…).  Not surprisingly, it blew my mind.

Filmed in 1981, it likely wasn’t until 1982 at the earliest that I saw this as this is when MTV was installed in my grandparent’s home.  Well, it was multi-channel cable that was instaslled but as far as my brother and I were concerned it was MTV that was installed.  It’s possible my bizarre comfort with death was formed with the fusion of cancer, MTV, and bauhaus’ fine song and film… Mask


8: Oh The Residents  (and snakefinger), Hello Skinny indeed! This is still my favorite song of yours and so it beats out the amazing filmed “video” for Third Reich and Roll (but barely!  because I love the newspaper klansmen and the gigantic steaks destroying the swastika so MUCH).   The appearance of eyeballs in the background of this video has nothing to do withbad artschool first film ever!1! and everything to do with The Residents, pre theft of one eye head, for those not familiar.

This will complete the absurdly creepy videos portion of our programme.  Well, maybe.  I think it’s the creepy ones that always worked best for me.  Skinny sold something, every single night….


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the moment.

it’s the moment of decision.

crankshaft schematic

for awhile, that moment is one which I avoided.  At this point, when it’s unavoidable it’s time for the pat answer which turns the subject to something more interesting.  At this point, most people are either going to focus solely on it or make it a joke.

The reverse pendulum swing of the suspended blade is when someone I feel I just don’t have the energy to explain things to wants to push for detail.  It’s when I hand wave and that’s not enough.  I’m still unsure what the hiding is about, the turn of the cheek from exposure. It’s the person who’s opinion matters and I know I could turn it my way – but why?  At the end of the day, I just don’t care enough to put it out there but I care enough to avoid/deny/change the topic.

I wonder if and when it will change.

I really only care when I feel myself void the topic.

“What do you do” is mostly not in the lexicon of people around me any longer.  blessed relief.

When it’s asked, it’s usually from people who I’ll tell now or who may have an inkling or whom I don’t care about one way or the other and tell as I’m moving on to something else.  It’s the moment that still causes me to shake my head at myself.

but what are you doing now is the line.  It’s the line I draw with lie or the line I draw with truth.  it’s up there with “what’s your cell phone number”.  I’m less tortured now by giving out the number, having crap reception in your house means you rarely have to decide whether to answer or not.  Now the answer has two paths.  First path: Am I interested in having this discussion and are these people worth my energy? or am I up for being the novelty party favor of the night? Second path:  It could matter and I could need to explain to be certain they see it clearly because I like this person.  or or Do I care if I’m pegged with limited chance for being seen as a sum of parts rather than the whole of one element?

oh yeah there’s also the “it’s just going out there and no rsvp required” has become a large rule of the day of late.  there’s the response of assumption that you want response but that’s more loss for them and for me just sort of another drop in the bucket of ORLY?

mmm packard crank shaft....

So yes, I’ve decided to announce that I collect crankshafts and resell them on ebay.  I know it’s hard to understand but it’s what I do and I wish you’d see me as more than that.

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whoops.  I forgot to blog.

But this is keen and you should click at it

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there is no original thought left

this functions as an ongoing answer to bogus poetry’s recent  posting of favorite videos.  I think it’s a brilliant idea and I’ll be doing the same for awhile as I’ve mostly only capacity for cut n’ paste for now. Unca Jesse often has excellent musical offerings that aren’t necessarily “Music Video” on display regularly in his shed behind the house there, that I love to discover.  Both are found under the “Flair” link if you’re looking for more ways to enjoywaste some more time.

I begin my video posting copycat response-o-rama with a little nod to the “dad dancing at the wedding” moments found in many a Nick Cave video.  Here, it’s taken to high art at about 2:25 and absolves all bad NC&TBS dances from videos past. Oh how I adore this video.  There are 2 Nick Cave vids that top out above this for me in the faves category, but if we’re thinking of bad wedding dance sequences, this takes it and breaks it and recreates it oh yeah oh oh oh oh yeah oh and brings it straight into my arms.


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further ’round the bush



Good morning Wednesday.  Hello migraine.  Dammit.  Thank god for fast acting modern chemistry.  I am to meet someone I like from afar for no clear reason, just that she seems reasoned & highly creative.    It suddenly occurs that I have no idea what this meeting is about. I soothe with the idea that it is simply about the two of us meeting.  It’s also good for her to know me beyond the internet.  I pop the gum, I click the iPod, I put into gear, I am on the road.  I feel exhilarated.

Driving 30 minutes, finding parking, managing to only be 15 minutes late (DAMMIT)  ((How am I always on time for work but never on time for people in cafe or bar?!))  (oh look there’s a spot) (((you know the answer to why you are always late.))).  What was an hour or two’s planned first ever meeting with a bright young woman newer to my work-world turns into sudden realization we’ve spent 9 hours talking.  I feel refreshed. How clean and clear and real.

I recall the moment a few weeks ago where I stated, out loud, that I was not socializing and thus becoming a stagnant nincompoop.  Lately, that’s been more than just a little overturned.

Note about the meeting: She is really inspiring.  She’s also 18 years younger than I am.  Good lord how is that even possible?? I envy her in the best of ways -  a sense of pleasurable “wow” at all of the things she knows which I never knew at that age.  The sheer balls & togetherness of her shit makes me feel older but feel excited.   I feel the impression of one with their  boundaries clearer than most, I am very impressed.  I feel a desire to learn from her or perhaps just just know her and see where her orbit takes her in the coming years.  More than a colleague.  And also she’s a fan of one favorite European city wherein I have spent some fabulous time with friends and Schwepps Bitter Lemon.

It’s a late night return to home.

I can barely sleep, I’m keyed up. I am cleansed.  I’ve lost one friend in the last 2 weeks in a rather overwhelming way.  I stated some thing about just plain needing to get out.  Now it’s happening in force.  I want to create my own castle and kick everyone out.  I want everyone in my castle.  I don’t know what I want.  I get 4 hours of sleep.

ladyHey there Thursday.  Looks like I am too spent for meeting this other woman with whom I’ve been meaning to get together forever and can tell is a elegkindred soul.  There’s so much to take care of, let’s skip it.  Day passes, so many things happen, horrible day and… we decide at the last minute to just do it.  No make-up and scruffy clothes and unkempt hair shouldn’t keep us from tea, biscuits, business.  The funny part is that we’ve posed many fashionable ‘meeting at last’ concepts of shopping, museums, and generally enjoying the ‘dress up’  concept as it is our connected passion.  Something felt right about none of that happening in the pre-planned way.  Room was made for many future get-togethers.  This was another 7 hours and our busy lives are all that prevented talking ’till dawn.  A new friend in the same line of work  – she mirrors, I mirror – there’s a “separated at birth” delight.  We shall corner the market on something wholly new together.

Friday passes in a blur of playing catch up & fb.  It’s 7pm before I realize I’ve only eaten coffee all day.  No wonder I feel nutty.  I have recently learned of a shocking action  on the part of one I trusted.  I mostly spend the day finally coping with just what that means.  This on the heels of something specific that brings all the pieces together.  Funny to me how the active decision to surgically remove that friend-lesion I fore-mentioned has given way to two very interesting new people, a realization that I had been protecting myself but not well enough.  How much I long to simply hide away within the prison walls and force all to come to me.  How boring life would become at times but how it may be that I make this choice in the coming years.

Must cook vegan foods for the next day’s festival of truth and horror, I go Indian, I barely make it to bed by 1 am.


And then… I spend over 10 hours together in a seminar discovering the horrible power of the state and the terrible truth of what I love doing as my life’s work and livelihood.  It’s a worse risk than I thought.. or is it?  In truth, I’ve known this but when confronted in a group of others in same boat, it’s quite a terrifying feeling that we all could sink like stones at any time.  Happily I obtain complete, full, answers to all questions and have strongly reiterated rights awareness.  It’s like this:  There is no consent between two “consenting adults” .   I am reminded that there is good and bad for being in the Bay Area.  Bad means everyone pretends all is well.  Good means there is nothing to lend itself to paranoia on the subject.  Nevertheless, I am reminded that all my plans must happen more quickly.  I really can’t put much more of it to public print.

It will take me good time to “get over it”.  It does, however, add to the sneer and I have lost that sneer since moving here.   I’m like a 70s punk rock sneer about it all. Sound and fury, signifying… not much really.  But it gets louder and funnier.  If you’re doing any small portion of this in your private bedroom you are not a proper citizen either!

Let’s put it this way…

I miss the underground.  Where the FUCK is my underground?!


The propaganda of mediocrity is more clever than I care to admit.

It’s a bitter pill to re-swallow every once in awhile.  The bout of rage is really only a moment of shaking this time, but I am right.  I have been right.  I am not pleased that I have been right.

Risk <—>Reward still balances out.

Sleep comes.

While last Sunday began with limited brain activity, this week begins with too much brain activity.  And so it goes.  Sometimes, you just have to document your life.

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all around the mulberry bush.

The week starts on Sunday….


Sunday . Oh well ouch.  The regular painful intervals that remind that I am indeed an adult female surprised this time around.  I am the drugged, the stupefied, the foaming mindless meat shield who fires on limited synapses.  Dropping an envelope behind the tansu becomes sisyphean and I leave it becoming  exasperated over a nothing.  I know this well, I know this 26 years of my life well.  I refuse to get dressed and I won’t leave the house for the purchase of that iron & vitamin combo I polished off last month that could make me feel slightly better.  Car–>Store means walking, concentration, standing, or requesting someone else go… and that would require speaking so much that I may have to use multiple sentences, perhaps multi-syllables to explain what I need and where it is and how to find it.   Fuck it.  I’ll just be weary.  Ennui, chocolate, rarish steak,back to bed happy I retrieved the busted laptop from repair shop.  I spend my time clicking whilst in bed but it isn’t the useful kind.  Nothing sinks into the brain it all collects on the surface and slips easily away like the skin on a pudding.  Hating the occasional wrench to the guts but strangely enjoying riding it out.  I laze & quietly bemoan in a rather Victorian fashion.

Monday spent in a haze, dwindling brain meat atrophied by ill feelings.  I am enveloped by an inability to consider answering phones, emails, stringing thoughts together even.  I think “Perhaps womanthis is  a forced STAYCATION”.  Then I think “Oh god I hate that fucking non-word”  I narrowly avoid bouts of rage over cute-ified language driven by marketing.  Everything I am is due to a lack of verbal acuity at this time.  I realize I need the television to switch off the mind.  I have no DVD I wish to watch.  I watch actual television.  Not surprisingly, that hurts worse.  Nothing amuses and I feel that I cannot be distracted.  Until it appears!  It (bling, sparkle) wins all  best of awards!  Wretched made for TV movie is mine!  Well it barely squeaks ahead of that one with the teenage boy who finds internet porn and loses perspective on life and his girlfriend and college scholarship and the respect of his mother and he goes into therapy with his parents and comes out a winner.  No Meredith Baxter here, this is  stronger stuff.   No “bring my baby back from the cheerleader who divorced my terrifying husband with two lives who kills the babysitter…. or DOES he?”.   A movie “made for women” with Harry Hamlin and Lisa Rinna?!?  Oh this is perfect.  It’s about his sex addiction.  He has a secret hideaway for handjobs,  a place his wife finds, where when she enters to discover his sin the tense music tenses tighter…. there are stacks!of!porn!magazines!and!dvds!with!people!fucking!! I may never again need to marvel at the utter shite people create for “women” as this one takes the cake.

Sadly there was no cake to be eaten whilst watching Sex, Lies, & Obsesssion. This is quite possibly a national tragedy.

I am either better or worse for the watching.  I busy myself and refuse to consider it all, because it becomes a slippery slope into a morass of fear that my interest in watching parts of these horribly low brow little dramas means I will become infected with belief that it is my life which is a horrible string of purchases-in-bulk & ill considered notions and that it is their lives which hold normalcy and meaning and I must emulate that to find a path to releif.

…Oh that old thought pattern again.  Hello old shoe.  Hello comfy like a sweatshirt thoughts…. goodnight. Continue Reading »

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