On Thursday...

I was an electric tiger.

Today, I'm something entirely less amazing.

Too much glam rock. Too much Bjork.

Watch Tiger Tunes.

Kelly Clarkson

Weird. I was just talking with someone (can't remember who) about how Kelly Clarkson was due to grace us with another album. Next thing I know, I'm finding out an hour ago that she has a new single available, called "Never There." I've been listening to the Dave Aude remix non-stop for almost 1/2 hour now.

I wanna dance. I wanna blare the music and see sweaty bodies thrashing about. I miss England, where they'd dance to just about anything. People here will only dance to the most mediocre of the mediocre: blandella at its best.

I'd die of joy if they played this song tonight at Chucks, since I'll be dancing there with Syndie.

Censorship

I was just censored by a fellow artist on an art project I was working on. Apparently, I somehow slipped back into the 1950s, and the word "panties" is highly offensive, and is was NOT to be used in our group project. I'm sorry... I thought that we were each given a portion of the assignment to work on, and had the option to add our own personality to our own page.

Having your art censored by another artist is bullshit. If anyone should know how vile that is, it should be a fellow artist.

The condition every art requires is, not so much freedom from restriction, as freedom from adulteration and from the intrusion of foreign matter. - James Walker

25% off at Midtown

Midtown Comics is having a 25% off sale, which is really tempting to partake in, considering the average prices of TPBs. I'm thinking about getting the second installment of "Loveless" and possibly a few others.

In other comics news, Buffy the Vampire Slayer's second issue was great again, and I just found out that Brian K. Vaughan will be writing the second half of the story arc - involving Faith! Faith and Brian K. Vaughan?!? Whooohoooo!

Charleys? (With some minor alterations)

And now, it seems, they are all here: the handsome masculine ones desired alike by men and women; the gushing swishes, hands aflutter like wings; the few stray women secure among the men who will idolize them but not love them; and as in any group of homosexuals and for those lured for whatever reason to them, there is here a mood of superficial good humor, of euphoria bordering on hysteria.

This quote is from John Rechy's City of Night. It's amazing that I can just come across a quote to pretty much sum up every weekend at Chucks. Nothing has meaning; nothing is real. Friendships and relationships seemingly forged from mutual exploitation, rather than love.

Vapid. Disposable. Trivial. Inconsequential.

A damning summation of my surroundings.

I want out of here.

(Shane, this does not include you.)

Clothes As Pages

My artist book idea fell apart yesterday, due to some incidents that still chafe my ass. Desperation breeds innovation though, as I've always learned. So, deciding that my original idea to build a small-scale armoire was just too much, I instead made the scale real.

I'm now making a mock closet using one of those portable closets on wheels. I'm using actual shirts/jackets/underwear as pages in my book. I'm painting, and spray painting, and inking a short story on the clothes. And. It. Will. Work. Damnit.

I'm supposed to be writing the story now, but I can't get into it. I think it's gonna have to happen fairly organically. At least, that's what I'm praying right now. I need to look for the photos I'm going to put on the clothes, Banksy style.

Jesus, I hope this works. *sigh*