Monday, 1 June 2009

Cat Love

I recently made the mistake of buying an esquire magazine. I was in the mood for some throw-away reading, and esquire offered an interview with charlie kaufman and christian bale (who it seems has become of the face of 'angry'). Having read a few articles, I felt icky. It was revolting, especially the little article about how to combat the recession by paying for cooking lessons. This way you can "network" at home and make your dining room tax-deductible. Ugh. Surely this kind of talk belongs in the 80s? Anyway. The only redeeming feature was this photo shoot - which is amazing.

Tuesday, 21 April 2009

"If you take away the skywriting aeroplanes and the hunchbacks -Then there's nothing left" - out of context quote by JGB

Ballard has passed through this world and has left in his wake a lot of uninteresting, bland journalism concerning his life and work. Of everything I read, I liked this article a lot. One of the many points in this article that raised my left eyebrow was the decline of science fiction; how it was quite reasonable for such a genre to emerge during a period of rapid, fantastical progress. Global travel, space travel, the mass production of cars etc, the future seemed more limitless. However our own "contemporary future" is one of dwindling resources, over population, climate beyond control. In fact, much more like the dystopian future portended by Ballard himself.

Found on facebook. I don't know.

Monday, 20 April 2009

Monday, 16 February 2009

Monday, 19 January 2009


Today is the most depressing day of the year apparently. Put that in yer pipe.

Last week was my birthday which was alarming. I went to watch animal collective play. I was expecting more of a staid chin stroking atmosphere and was surprised to find a crowd of colourful kids who came to dance and not think. This was nice and from the dizzying heights of the topmost balcony of shabby yet grand KOKO's, they looked like a bowl of trendy sweets. The music was upbeat and anthemic. I imagined it as a lovable animal-like robot made of a million whirring, clinking, chiming parts in the treble and heartbeats, footfalls and purrs in the bass.

At one point the music froze and someone shouted "Rachel" in the short silence before the band rollercoasted onwards. A case of a man thrilled into vocalizing the name of the object of his unrequited love or simply a Rachel finding her way back from the bar?

Friday, 12 December 2008