I'm a victim of this song.


Pipolotti Rist perhaps my favourite artist and maybe has been for the last 5 years.
Fresh from the hayward gallery exhib "Eye Massage" (and then a few drinks and discussions with the superb Lucy Vann) I must urge you to see this, so feminine and wonderful and erotic and grotesque and so incredibly beautiful. Perhaps the master of desire leading perception/anamorphicly wonderous perspective. Not that these two are any sort of hint as to what to expect but actually Pipilottis has great taste in music/is a sweet recording artist...

(click on the image above and go to youtube I urge you!)




I'm not a girl who misses much...
(+ love of the beatles whilst decapitated - YES!)



BLOODY LOVE THIS WOMAN!

Language + The Flesh + Artaud (+ Spero)


Musings:
When the pen pierces the page does it penetrate the skin. When the words cover the face does it become disfigured. When the mark marries with the body, is the trace erased or does it burn deeper. When language and the body are at one, does the father die?

All writing is pigshit, because it bares the mark of something else, because it becomes an object outside of the body - a partial object that survives its start point - at the authors throat. That lingers and becomes autonomous, that seems to "out grow the natural limitations of the organism affected by it". What of autonomy and the written word?

Where is the body that escapes me. Where is the body that is alien within me. Where words become the signal for the anamorphic real, where signs are permitted with enjoyment, with jouissance, which is replayed but never touched.

Wannabe



Wish I could be in this band

"No one knows who the Beattle-ettes were. They were one more answer record knocked off responding to the maelstrom of the Beatles’ invasion of New York in 1964. (It was rushed out so fast, in fact, that they got the spelling of the boys’ name wrong, with an extra ‘T’!) But it is sure that they were produced by “Shadow” Morton just before his breakout success with the fabulous Shangri-La’s. Because of this, and the definite New York moxie of the singers, many believe it might actually be the Shangs! This would be cool as all hell, of course, but no one knows for sure.

What we do know is this is a rockin’ two minutes of punky Beat music that sticks in your head all day."

Then I wish I was this band

.... Which turns out to be suzi quatro and sister patti and arlene...



I also wish I would have wrote A Lovers Discourse, but I didn't, Roland Barthes did.



And I wish I could have wrote The Unbearable Lightness of Being. But I didn't

These both written by men but I consider to be feminine in a lot of respects.

And the reason I didn't was because I wasn't born yet. Everyone got there first. I may be too old to be in a teenage girl band, but I'm making moves on all the other things. Now the main dilemma is plagiarism, iteration, or envy? "Let's start over," is a mode of Art Writing according to Adrian Rifkin. He could be very very right.