Cory Arcangel + Bruce Springsteen - We are we are we are we are we are

Dear Assholes,

Buttter and I have been bleeding the internet in the weeks following Cory Arcangel's glockensperform of the Boss's Born to Run and, having found but a paltry queef of response, it seems we're going to have to stuff one. And by "we're" I mean "I am" (as in "we sure used to/still do love throwing pencils into foam ceilings").

A precursory note: this sentiment both would have most likely become apparent on its own and has no real bearing on what's going to be said here, but Bruce Springsteen's music fucking sucks; blindsided delight with Arcangel's piece has no place in its deconstruction. I am consequently going to keep editorial to a minimum.

And the initiator: poop poop pee dingleberry.

There were three elements to the what happened (outside of setting and audience, the "aura"): the performer Arcangel<<>, the Accompaniment video/sound, and the +_+_Blemish.

• Having only a minute's google worth of the disposition Arcangel would be bringing to the table, he presented himself as I would have expected: nonchalant, yet dorky and keen on what he was about to unload. This was to be his first performance of the album from start to finish. First performance, having not practiced this easy-to-master-in-an-hour work all the way through ever. Full stop. And he took it refreshingly seriously. Visibly counting (marginal notes included bars of rest i.e. "one mississippi, two mississippi…"), sweating and drinking (not enough), the few laughs he elicited at the beginning became absurd as the piece wore on. Note that he treated it as any orchestral percussion player might have, looking up rarely and taking every chance he could to sit down between movements
  
  
• The bootleg videos of Springsteen (though not all songs had accompanying video; one had still photos, another lyrics with Japanese translations…) showed the crowd a rare glimpse of what a Springsteen concert might actually feel like…energy, emotion, pitiful jock reunion piss…the video quality was shitty, the sound rarely less shitty, portrayed 10X10 behind and on Arcangel and his glock(enspiel).
  


• The Blemish (see the picture below) was the black horse of the night. Before the performance started it looked as if the projector had been knocked off-kilter and was exposing some sort of blue panties, the type that would surely be readjusted to cover come showtime. This wasn't the case, however, and to make matters fucking crazier the Blemish showed us its true power: after about seven or eight minutes of video it changed to white. Another interval would go by and, just when you would start to forget it was there, it would change color again (to pink, green, red, yellow, etc).

Taking these elements in concert gives us an interesting analysis. It should take pages (and it should take pages, really, but nobody fucking reads this shit) but for the sake of space I'll just give you a taste. If you want a true exegesis you can email Tip Tuddley at ilovepuppies@cuddlecradle.net.ca

First: Why Bruce? Any paratextual information (i.e. Arcangel's personal feelings) are only going to lead us to some sort of circular relativism. The Boss was, like him or not, the voice of the Jersey-centric proletariat for about twenty years. And it would perhaps be tempting to say something drastic ("Born in the USA"="Le Marseillaise" for example) except that Bruce's drug is of the narcotic variety, not the schizo-o o O O O O yeah we know I know you know mmmbop. And what is his role today? A nostalgic fist-pump-inducer that produces townies, stagnant eternal-adolescence townies. And whereof comes this townie? The incapacity, for one reason or another, of an initiatory force, be it an overbearing state, college, military, etc. to instill in its recipient a desire to overthrow. So whereas the proletariat of yore was rallied to frenzy, our modern-day hick is coaxed to bed with Bud and Bruce. Ugh and wait this is going to be a whole aghghgh...

Anyway next: Why the glockenspiel? It has an obvious role in Born to Run, a sort of marching band glitz that blah blah blah who gives a shit. In German glockenspiel means "play bells", which explains their sonar similarity to a Fischer Price toy that, say, Silent Barn has on the back of its toilet. It is an instrument of dreams (it has a key role in "Die Zauberflote") and childhood, which if taken into account with the aforementioned fixed maturity of the bridge-and-tunnel crowd makes the choice so very choix. Arcangel may have appeared to have been nervously performing for a group of dorks but his message was in essence one of mockery, an "are you serious?" to our wasted parents.The obvious progression here is a bland commentary on the end of history à la Williamsburg. What makes shit worse was the omnipresence of foot tapping and mouthing of Springsteen's lyrics........ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....

But what about the Blemish? It could be argued that its role was simply ornamental (or its operator could have been a third member of the performance, as with the lighting team at a show) (yes I used to go to jam shows), a hip-ish askew that puts everyone off. I'd like to think its role more radical, however. As this bitch noted, most of the crowd didn't seem to even know any of Springsteen's music (which is 1. bullshit and 2. she clearly is a joke): they weren't dancing around or bobbing their heads – and I can see here where it may appear I'm contradicting myself, but she clearly knew what a boss show should be like e e e e e. From the back it was clear that the music was penetrating most of the crowd. Everyone was there to see Arcangel, we knowwww, but both his presence in front of the screen or his abject withdrawal from a third of the performance contributed to make him, well, transparent. Thus returns the opiate quality of Bruce's music, making the Blemish the only savior-element to remind us of the performance's role as subversive art. I'm getting fucking beer muscles here: were it not for this missing piece the performance would have been complete, finished, understood. Yet as it stands we walked away with a fissure to pour over, something that kept the (I hope) multitudinous recountings from stopping at "it was cool".

Going down on construction

I think what i'm doing here has to do with a couple of things. I like the idea that short and uninformative posts are rewiring our brains. I don't understand the idea that you can start posting images or video or whatever, and as long as these media come from "artists" (i.e., people who identify themselves as artists through interesting and progressive websites).

No, it's fine that these people are doing this, for example a lot of the shit the rhizome links with (but not really rhizome itself I've found, which is actually pretty good at describing what's going on), or loshadka, or... http://www.gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooogle.com/, which is affiliated with rhizome (just recently in fact, one of the associate editors just signed on board...), and nastynets (but I may be wrong about this last one, not sure what it is... in fact, it might even be someone's art project to throw assholes like myself off of their trail). More on this later. essentially, nothing's being described. And fine, does this make me look naive? Of course, butt that's the point.

Can we bring back discussion? It need not be honest! I can lie a lot if you like, but it'd be nice to write things out. And I rarely trust many of the conversations going on the message boards right now, it's too much.

To continue proving my point (and sadly without saying much else) I'll post another piece of art by a famous internet artist:




Drudge Report, Martin Sheen-Wilder; Black on Gray Pixels, 1997.

All The Youths Seemed Rather Excited and Optometristic, Damien "it" Hirst "so good"; plywood on enamel gauze, 2003; Museum of Contemporary Contrapuntual Studies: Oslo, Norwegikistan.

Creating Art out of Not even Air

Digital Preteen Internet Post, Armchaired Mike Sblinzter; 1998, Ash on Gravel; Museo Parconato: Madrid, Spain.

The of What we Do (or, how to sound interesting without being interesting)

"premium black granite"
Eurasian Natural Stone
Granite on polyester, 500,000,024 B.C.E
From the series "Premium Stones from Eurasia" (1984-2003)

We have been in the wild west version of the internet for too long. Who will protect the masses? Is it fair that some people are complete asshole nerds and learn computer coding while the rest of us don't even know how the english language works?

Maybe, maybe is the answer.

So what is there to be done, and how can we innovate in a web where so many people are better than us (me)? Well, because I don't know about hacking. O but I used to! Does anyone else remember those cool hacker-ish programs from the early days of AOL? Tiddly and I were talking about that the other day, with bombing peoples inboxes with spam or something and everything. In fact, I don't think much has changed in terms of how easy it is to "lag" someone/a server out of existence (not existence, but in internet time, a day of being down for a major server would be catastrophic).

Example: A million people trying to visit a site over a matter of seconds will slow the site down, especially if it's a site like the one for Georgia's president. With that many people, it's easy to understand how a server will get overloaded.

Simple simple understanding? Not much has happened since the innocent days of lagging someone off AOL, and frustrating them. The wait to get online (through phone lines!) was such a drag.

It's useful to understand.

But what happens when it doesn't get so simple. What happens when these hacker memes evolve? It's funny to think of a computer virus, being man made, evolving, but this is a great way to understand how human thought evolves and adapts.

Please disregard everything I've said. I just feel lame for writing it all, realizing it's awful, but I sat here typing for too long to let it go to waste.

So here, how do we go from 'blogging' (which is a term that makes me feel like a fucking 13 year old girl with a crush on a fat kid) to more like a... seriously considered thing? HAHAHA. We wait, wait until the time is right and start to get someone neat to find this. Who is that neat person? He (and it will definitely be a guy, because girls just don't like to play Risk) has not been born yet. I think he'll be a mix between Kemesh and Dionne Warwick.

The Smell made from Kemesh's house is from a paranormal soup clerk, to give away the ending that I made for it and will subsequently never be published for lack of a publisher and a story. But how will the story continue? Now that they've found the hair thing, with turnipenis syndrome. I just hope that amateurs (like us) give up soon, because without us, it would make me happy.

Disregard that last sentence.

Wow, I never thought becoming a woman would ever feel so damn liberating.

Sadly, I have not become a woman. Disregard the last two sentences.

And, because nothing would make sense without a picture [I put it at the beginning of the story]:

Because we like to screw and drink and pretend we're miniature girls licking ass

(imagestolenfrom4chan.org)






"
"They met my look and replied to it with a serenity not known since the sweet pulp slid south through Eve’s untarnished pubic hair."
- Tiddly
1/4" x 5"
varnish on oil on varnish, 2005
"
-Gregoe
2 1/4" x 5"
Keyboard on Typepad, 2009

Wow. Normally don't like to link things, but this is too good:

It has to do with a robot named Wall-E (its real name is Gordon)

LINK

This is interesting for a few reasons:

1_
@_
3_
3

The first reason (1_) is that the robot has living tissue for a brain

The @ reason (@_) is that (as I understand it) the researchers made a few living brains, and they are different: "It's quite funny - you get differences between the brains," says Warwick. "This one is a bit boisterous and active, while we know another is not going to do what we want it to."

So how is this going to affect corn prices? Not much. Corn and soybean prices have been falling for a while since their peak in [insert a couple of months ago or something] and we could attribute this to a boon year. A reputable news source (a few news sources) reported this fact, and I believe them!

So, score one for news, score me for nothing.

I just want to know how we are able to feed so many people of the world? Doesn't this seem odd, that everyone is eating all the time? I have a friend who - at any given minute - is eating or smoking weed or sleeping. And he doesn't smoke weed and sleep all day, if you know what I mean *wink* *wink* *wink* *inner thigh lick* *wink*

Corn prices are not going to be affected by a brain made out of living tissue, as opposed to a living brain, which is what most of us have anyways.

Soybean prices are dropping too, but whatever, it's important, but whatever. Just know that it's important, and there should be smart people looking over it *wink*.

That last wink was directed towards the government, for all it's worth. That last wink suggested that maybe we shouldn't trust speculators and such. But they make a lot of money, which drives interesting people to make interesting sports cars, if you like to think of it that way.

And I'm all about interesting sports cars, and interesting other things too, like exotic chocolates and shiny electronics, although all cool electronics need not be shiny.

And matt drudge is a major douche even though I visit his website as often as I pee each day. (which is 3-4 times a day on a good day, I think)

And please submit your nude photos to kweefmegazine@gmail.com for my viewing pleasure.

Thank you in advance for the hot nude action, ohhh ohhh ohhh i'm so hot for nude action.

Almost as hot as the action in Georgia! [segue] Cuz it's hot pocket time in the far eastern european area stuff. I don't know what to say. Russia is asserting itself, and Georgia fucked up. It sucks that pregnant chicks lost their husbands. How can you say that sort of thing in a much more poignant way? Death deathDEATH. People die each day, but is it acceptable when a nation is at war? Why don't I ask some of the THOUSANDS AND MILLIONS OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE ACTUALLY SEEN THIS SORT OF THING AND BEEN A PART OF IT?

Sorry (and I am really sorry. I try not to get emotional, ever; I'm in a good mood), i'm just a priveleged asshole who has never seen this sort of thing firsthand, therefore, I have found it really easy to move my fingers in a not-too-rapid-succession on the keyboards and just type type type for the three people who might (but wouldn't have read this far) read this.

Ersa

(continued from Kemesh's House)

A breath of sweet saccharine came in behind me. This was not your everyday plume, no, no, not this no not never. Mib do you smell that? I said, but it was too late, I was outside her ten-foot hearing range. Mib? Still nothing. My own ears, trusty, they were still hanging on there, they. You two still with me? I said, and sure enough I was sure I said it. The heweh sound of with was even audible, that. My stars.

So it was upon me and me alone to turn up those stairs and seek out this pallor. Step one, step one, step one, I said aloud (and sure of it) for in these mephitic times the numbers tend not to go up but in, not down but in. Finally I reached step one and the smell was stronger still. These are some days, these. Are you on to something Ersa? Mib said from the bottom of the stairs, Are you on a trail? Sniff sniff my nose replied. Can you hear me Ersa? Mib said again. She needed visible evidence, it was clear, so I raised my hand, hush.

I left her and headed toward a window down the hall upstairs. It wasn’t getting any stronger necessarily but the dust down the hall had been disrupted, I could see that, I could see that in the way it waited around in front of the window. Crick crick went the floorboards beneath the carpet. Can you hear me? Mib said once more, belching like the trusty foghorn out on Hare Wick point. She, Mib, bone and morrow. As things turned out the smell was indeed getting more something. The dust paid its respects as I blustered in and reached for the knob of a door as yet unseen. As…yet………….unseen….and opened it.

Center of the room stood a creature the likes of which I don’t feel at liberty to describe. My, I said, this is a big one. It was draped in stretch blue from head to heel and from the sides of its head sat these scraggly-looking dust mops. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was overweight – not knowing what truly constitutes the species’ range of girth – but were he man I would not hesitate to say he were fat, no. And how. My eyes traced up his dimpled forelegs, over a strange turnip that must have been the source of his reproductions, over the vast pillow of a midsection, only arriving at last at his eyes. They met my look and replied to it with a serenity not known since the sweet pulp slid south through Eve’s untarnished pubic hair. I did the only thing I could think to do and sat entranced. That were the last thing I remember with any amount of certainty.

Series Part 3 of a of 3 Part Series

The narrative of these videos:

-Finding happiness Part 1
-the Fear Part 2
-Realizing I'll never go back to the pre-war era Part 3

And what you don't realize is that I just made this up just now.

The Fourth Part of this three part series is a user competition to submit to me your best nude photos. My e-mail is kweefmegazine@gmail.com. keep it classy

Part 2 of the Series entitled "Pride and Prejiduce Don Quixote A Christmas... Joyce ...Carol... Oates Sucks at Writing (2005)"

The current series has been going great, and I couldn't have done it without the support of our fan. Thanks y'all! The letters of support have been flowing (and I mean flowing, wheeew!) in. And they're not stopping. Geese louise! Naw, Naw Naw, This is party time, like Geese LouisXIV, so come come come on sheila, it's a time a dosin da wreedling!
Oy ya Puckah! Bliggle Me barggle for a jinky freaks?

This next Part (part 2 of series 1) is based on the Inherently Divine comedy of the microcosm of race relations in South-Central Asia.
Theretofore, this comes with the apt title of:

"[IFTBNRMFRNBIWSHMPSBJOWRIADAAIDIMLCBWAIDSBDBIDHAIDS;IIHBTBMOOGS
tgfsbwhwwhpatwtfwwlaobaawwcoswtoofauaosmiol? (oil on canvas, 2009)"



Even though the coincidences are Huge, the preceding letters in bold do (not (but do, really)) really stand for:

"[Insert Future Title], by Nora Roberts, my favorite romantic novelist, but I wish she had more pictures sometimes because jacking off while reading is a dying art, and I'm no artist, much like children born with AIDS, but differently, becuase I don't have AIDS; instead, I have begun to blame my obesity on genetics, so THANK GOD FOR SCIENCE BECAUSE WITHOUT HIM WE WOULDN'T HAVE PENISES AND THEN WHAT THE FUCK WOULD WE LAUGH AT OR BE ASHAMED ABOUT WHEN WE COMPARE OUR SIZE WITH THAT OF OUR FATHERS AND UNCLES AND OTHER SEXY MEN IN OUR LIVES?"

The New New Website you've all Been Wanting And YEARNING AND SCREAMING OHHHH MY GOD I WANT IT SO HARD, I DON"T CARE THAT YOU"RE BLEEDING ON ME

We are in the process of changing a website (this website) from Current Format (the current format you see RIGHT NOW!) to Future Format (which will be a Military Gossip Blog, so we'll talk about which cologne colonels wear, and who's sticking it to who, and because it's DON"T ASK DON"T TELL, then we'll just make most of it up (but not really! it's all going to be real!)

And Close Parentheses again.

*This Series is Called:
"Pride and Prejiduce Don Quixote A Christmas... Joyce ...Carol... Oates Sucks at Writing (2005)"




*This is part 1 of a series I like to call:
"EGPFTVOTM-T-U-CIIDBDTRAWHFMAACMFLAAHITHCBASCBDMTFCAWTDDTGCSWFAIWTPAWITMOSWINMBAFIKWHTPTIDHBIJSPAT;P1 (2008) Watercolor on Rye; Scrap Metal; Absorbant Glass"

Which Stands For:

"Exploring global poverty from the views of the middle-to-upper-class Irish immigrant descendants born during the Reagan Administration whom have found marijuana as a coping mechanism for laziness and a high inner thigh hair count but are still cool because drinking makes them feel cool and when they don't drink they get cranky so without further adieu I wish to present a window into the mind of someone who is not myself but a friend I know who has these problems that I don't have because I'm just so psyched about things; PART 1 (2008)"

Part 2 will be more of the same, and then Part 3 will be not too different, but different enough so that you can't really tell the three apart.

* - The Series is titled "Pride and Prejiduce Don Quixote A Christmas... Joyce ...Carol... Oates Sucks at Writing (2005)", But Part 1 of the Series is titled the longer title in bold.

People Who Are Much Better At doing This Than Us

I have compiled a list of people who are much better at this than US:

http://itsworthitall.blogspot.com/ - This hilarious broad is christian and doesn't have any clue that you can't fucking call something "banana chocolate chip bread without the banana or chocolate chips" blah blah something something, but get my point at least?

She also took about 100 pictures of her kids swimming. Psoriasisly? Psoriasisly.

http://ewertonpadilhafotografo.blogspot.com/ - This guy is an Amazing scat photografiater



http://schepenkrabbendijke.blogspot.com/ - and this one's for J$

A BIg day for things in the world

IMAGE STOLEN FROM Time.COM. Please don't sue me or my friends, i just want to prove a point of how tacky these fucks are.. even though this picture doesn't really prove my point. In fact, I would bang the SHIT out of this gal, and I'd let her burn my genitals slowly with that AMAZING cigar she has. And then we'd get her fur shawl real sticky, if you follow me. Don't follow? I'd jizz all over her shawl, and then I'd rub semen in with the blood from my penis burns, and make a sticky but sweet mixture, and the pour it even more into her shawl, and then we'd go out dancing and such, but i'd probably pass out, not because of pain, but because of LOVE. Love, and then I'd have a child with her, mostly to fulfill biological obligations, but also to have an heir that would someday feed me, and he'd be a rich russian megamillionaire, and hopefully at some point he'd by a soccer team, because, boy, do I love soccer.

Today, the eighth day of the eighth year of america, there has been something amazing happened:

RUSSIA invaded GEORGIA

the OLYMPICS started, overshadowing the PARAlympics yet again

The OIL bubble may be deflating (because a burst is too easily made into headlines)

So what does this mean for your evening communique?? The beauty of Russia's move was in the timing (obvioso!), because they've been planning on going in to Georgia for a while, but who really cares as long as the olympics are going on? Maybe the west, but it's too late for any sort of fun response. There's not much that can be said. This has something to do with Russia's original plans (on paper) to withdraw their soviet-era bases from the region. That couldn't have boded well for the futuristic cold war that we are soon to fight, because they need bases too, goddammit (especially if we want this one will be as fun as the last)! Yes, this has to have something to do with Russia's self interestes.

I read a book years and years and years and years ago (i.e., I never read a book) about how countries do things out of self-interest. What is russia's self-interest? Buying stuff and orgasming! And drinking! So, how does this help russia's three main self interests? By protecting themselves, making bases that say "FUCK YOUSE GUYS" against NATO's advancement (essentially, Georgia is the front line on NATO's anti-russian operations).

I told my family to leave Atlanta and head for the Stone Mountain. The protecting spirits of the dead confederate generals could and would help them, but I believe that the rocket launchers installed within R.E. Lee's eyeballs will do the trick.

WAR! This is the first war that I can remember... NOT! Gotcha! Anyone remember the War on Drugs? Or the War against AIDS and CANCER and CANKER sores! Or the War against our Libidos? What I meant to say is that this is a balls on your fists war, with a western nation versus russia. What the fuck is russia's classification? Gotcha again you STUPID fuck (and when I say "you stupid fuck," what i meant to say was: FUCK, you are much smarter than me)! They're not classifiable because they don't have class! Get it? Russia is the borscht belt of Eurasia. Not including the natives, russians are the corniest advanced peoples in the world, but they are not to blame. We should blame their lack of decent television and historic stupidity.

But no, no no!!!! Warrrrrrrr vvvvvrroroorrooooooooomm go the tanks! BOW PLAST!!

PLAST BOW!! WRREOOOMMMVMVMMVMV (this is the sound of an idling [russian] tank)!

And where did the russians get all their money to update their tanks? They do have a fine economy, a strong economy, and as long as they're making money from unfathomably beautiful deals of corruption, then everyone's cool. Except for the ones that get jailed for standing up to the government. Luckily, nobody reads this, except for maybe governments of foreign nations, so fuck russia and fuck the us because they can suck my butt all day and all butt long BUTT BUTT BUTT IN MY BUTT

I prefer russian soil in my butt, but lately i've been prescribed thai butt sticks for that extra sense of satisfaction and savoriness. The US butt sticks have gotten, eehhh, AS LIMP AS GEORGE BUSH'S PRESENCE IN OUR LIVES.

Where the fuck did georgie W go???? Do you remember a time when he was everywhere? I do, and it felt so real and alive, like we had one of those "oh i hate you but you make such sweet love" types of deals that only cool people have, and now it's just "ohhh, you can stroke me, but it's not the same oohhh... ohhhhh... it's not the same georgie!"

Condie had a real fucking pathetic article in the most recent (as in like a month ago) issue of Foreign Affairs, entitled THE NEW AMERICAN REALISM. You know what she talked about? Democratic Development. How is this the NEW american realism? Has this not been the great excuse used by the Neoconservatives for, oh, I don't know, at least a million years? Well, maybe not a million, but maybe hundreds of thousands of years.


I think I'm just bummed that the Olympic opening ceremonies went off without a hitch. There was so much anticipation! Has anyone been feeling this too (DEATHLY SILENCE FROM NOBODY, CONSIDERING NOBODY READS THISSSSSSsssssssssschhhhaaaaaa)

It's really nice to do heroin and type. I love just shooting up like 20 pounds of heroin and huffing goose paints and writing blogs, jeeeze louie Armstrong! if you just type oijoijoijoijoijoijoijoijoijoijoijoijoijoijojoijoijoijoijoijoijoijoijoij really quickly, like with your three fingers on your right hand, then you'll totally release stress.

So, a big big day. Oil is finally falling, the Euro is falling, Georgia is falling (actually, it's interesting, because I don't know if Russia has the balls to go through with a complete Georgian takeover, but they'll certianly put South Ossetia (or however you spell it) under their Irony Fist).
And the olympics are falling into a time warp, with the opening ceremonies to be aired 12 hours after they start! Talk about futurism!

No no no, scratch and sniff that, don't talk, only moan slightly for the dying georgian civilians, and how.