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Archive for September, 2010|Monthly archive page

Eight Cuts Gallery Press [Promotional Reel]

In Uncategorized on September 26, 2010 at 4:23 pm

                                                

 

The Industry so far…

 

 

Interview with Junot Diaz [1]

Irony. If you can put it in a nutshell then it’s not worth saying. Y’know? And that’s ironic. Irony. The meaning of the word.”

 

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Bret Easton Ellis faints after self-describing “absolute, immortal importance” of new book, ‘Imperial Bedrooms.’

Johnny Franzen soaks up the acclaim for his new novel ‘Freedom’ at a press buffet in rich man’s New York. He talks of the ‘slavery of slaves’ and how his book can save pretty much everyone, even plants.

‘Alien the Obscure’ by Thomas Hardy and Blinky L. Frostern is released. Title left unexplained.

Hong Kong model Jessica C finishes her first novel, ‘Pretty Bitch’. She tells journalists she feels “so tired” after writing “so hard” for “so long”, and is looking forward to just “being pretty again.”

 

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Agents insist the market is booming.

The market remains unavailable for comment. Read the rest of this entry »

PONYZINE

In Sarah E Melville on September 23, 2010 at 7:36 pm

the Ponyboy is made up of Reptile Triangles, all of them bones, all of which you can see at different points of the night, circulating in Basilisks and Butterflies around the room.

Download the PONYZINE for free,

print it yourself

or

get the e-zine

Jet Li Vs Somali Pirates Vs Dolph the scientist Vs the increasing regularity of other people’s suicides…

In Uncategorized on September 19, 2010 at 12:28 pm

    Don’t really have much of anything to do at the moment.Gotta save cash and don’t have many friends so can’t really get out there and live life in any interesting way…Don’t wanna write anything right now as I’m getting sick of what I write…i should just write really short things…only one or two pages about something I’ve seen…

    Write something about The Expendables?

    The direction Stallone gave to various people?

    Lundgren? Statham? Eric Roberts?

    Is there a story there?

    I could mention that Jet Li interview I read last night…about the representation of Islam and how he talked Stallone out of using muslims as the bad guys at the start of the film…because not all muslims are bad guys, and they always seem to be played as bad guys…

    So, use Somali pirates instead…that’s what he said…what Jet Li said…

    There are no hero pirates in Somalia, I guess… Read the rest of this entry »

Charles VI in Chinese University land [roaming, stabbing]

In Gupter Puncher/Oli Johns on September 16, 2010 at 4:04 pm

Once upon a time there was a tax form. And an immigration form. And electricity bills. And a whole lot of other things.

Charles VI, once a king, now uncertain, got the tax form on May 3rd and had one month to fill it in and send it back. But every time he opened the tax envelope and took out the form, or the forms, and looked at them all, he would panic, throw up his arms, and quickly put them away again.

I still have time. I’ll do it tomorrow.’

And when he wasn’t thinking about the tax forms, he was thinking about the immigration forms. And the electricity bills, and the other things. But the immigration stuff was undoubtedly the worst of it.

See, Charles VI wasn’t happy in Hong Kong. He hadn’t been happy for a long time, and for a long time he had been unable to think of a way out. Things weren’t the way they were before, those many years ago, when artisans and peasants would bail him out, and bail him out grandly, with swords at their throats.

Now…no. The swords were gone, the throats cut, the artisans dead, decayed, back in the earth.

But then someone had told him about Canada. That country over another sea, where they wouldn’t take your culture and throw it to the waves, but hold it to their chest and say, ‘hey, this is something good. Let’s keep it.’ And all this had sounded so good to Charles VI that he had gone to the website and seen that, indeed, it was good, and, yes, he was eligible, and quickly printed out the forms.

But those forms…Krist! Read the rest of this entry »

Zanzibar [at the Venice Film Festa]

In Pat Black on September 12, 2010 at 11:58 am

*Let’s catch up with all the red carpet gossip at the Venice Film Festival, with the King of Snark himself, Lance Zanzibar…
 
Terrible business, all told. Here I am, in a suit you can’t afford, drinking champagne you’ll never taste, sinking my feet into a carpet which will never burn your knees, cocking a snook at strumpets whose asses you’ll never slap, knowing things you’ll absolutely never know, and still I can’t work out if this Joaquin Phoenix shit is for real or not.

Yes, it’s been a trying time for your humble correspondent, exposed to only the finest food and drink shrieking little businessmen can throw at me for free, easing my way up and down the canals in my private gondola and banging star-struck work experience hacks two and sometimes three at a time. I’m engaging in the kind of clichés you can only dream about – the ones you and the guys snort beer over when you discuss that trip to Vegas you will absolutely never take. It’s called La Dolce Vita, baby. Deal with it.

Marco, my own little stripy-shirted gondolier, has been helping me search this entire town for the choicest gossip regarding I’m Still Here, Casey Affleck’s real-life study of how Phoenix apparently went off the rails and reinvented himself as some kind of half-assed gangsta rapper. All I’ve managed to find out is that Phoenix has managed to have a shave and gotten himself into his Johnny Cash suit since filming wrapped. Is it for real? Is it a hoax? Did someone really crap on his head? Is that actually coke he snorted off some groupie’s pillowy breasts? Do you think they cared, at all? Do you think that halfway through they realised that it was a really tortured, strained joke all along, and that it probably wasn’t going to excite, entertain or interest anyone?

Joaquin, if you’re listening, my harelipped hero, I think you need to peg things down a little. Go back to the tin-foil hat look you sported in Signs – that’s the kind of crazy people can hang their derision on. Read the rest of this entry »

8 Ozon

In Marc Horne on September 5, 2010 at 4:49 pm

So, if I worked for Lawnmowers Monthly, I would not be going to Venice. But the little machine that I write about… she is called The Camera. And she is magical. So I am going to Venice.

Mireille is still asleep, down in the blue. Good. I don’t want to talk. What are you going to say? Some shit about socks, yeah?

I am flying on EasyJet from Charles de Gaulle. So that means you can’t even relax and enjoy your coffee. Because I am outside the little cattle pen where you rush for your seat. But then again all the seats are pretty shitty. There are likely to be no more than 5 attractive women on the flight, so unless you are one of the first ten guys on the plane, then so what. Ok, the cappuccino is good now. The Arab girl who made it for me is looking at me strangely, though.

“No, I’m not Tom Cruise,” I say to her and she laughs. I didn’t notice that she is young and cute before. Now I do. God, my ego is weak. She’s probably a hag with a face like a camel’s ass but I literally can’t see it because she laughed at my joke. I am hoping that the Film Festa will have some adventures so I can kid myself I am still young for another 3 or 4 months. Then I can start looking forward to Cannes.

I am hoisted practically into space. Above me is the unblinking blue eye of god. Below me the source of all meaning. Naturally, I sleep and when I wake I read about biscuits and how much they cost.

I split a speedboat taxi with a guy called René who takes photos for us quite often. He doesn’t care that we are in a place where people wear suits or harlequin costumes: he is going to dress like it is Indochina anyway. And he is going to sweat like it is Indochina. We come round into the Grand Canal and his sweat has me convinced that it is the Mekong Delta. He has so much metal hardware hanging from his khaki vest that part of me wants to push him in the water and have some fun. Ten years ago I would have done it. Now I wonder where all those urges are going. They don’t just fade away. I kind of feel them being put in a pocket in my soul. My soul has as many pockets as that fucking vest, Read the rest of this entry »