My memories of the Venezuelan communist party

In 1977, I hiked all the way up to the top of the Venezuelan peninsular, along with the communist scouts of america, to search for the one thing the communist party couldn’t take away from us: the “Color+ gameboy” (the first ever 3d gaming platform, long before 3DS-lite or whatever you kids call it today.) It was imported via american garbage boats and we just had to crawl through the filth to get it. But, in crawling through that filth, I felt a liberation of the body insomuch as i’ve never felt beforehand and the prize at the end was worthy of a king: a shiny new gaming experience. Sure, Hugo Chavez had his political ideology stamped all over it like a cattle, braised by hot iron, but at least it was in enchanting, captivating 3D.

It is 2013 now, as you, no doubt, are aware of, if you have half a brain, and I sit here with a Vinegar cordial, mulling over those heady communist days. I mix, slightly, with wine. (The finest apricot extract, mind you) and sip up the heavenly nectar that an atheist god must have put before me.

I get out my rare copy of George Orwell’s “Road to Wigan Pier”  and read aloud, dutifully like a greyhound. My thumb gets a paper cut off the second page, but thats alright because the blood makes Orwells poetry flow more, through my waxen veins and the ideas grow through my thick chest. To say that I hated Hugo Chavez should be a punishable offence under any countries law, (Punishable by hanging), because on the contrary, my concept of the soul has no bounds of love for Hugo.

 

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Surphac: untitled performance 1

A poem for Sterne Upps

My dear friend Sterne G Upps died today in his gothic Charlemagne-era hut in France. He died as he lived: Writing poems about himself, and why wouldn’t he? If there were a god, (which I think not), but if there were just an ounce of religion in the universe it would be directed towards Sterne. O Sterne! Why hous’t thu’t brittle hands of coldest winter, take you into ground.

Bellow is my poem dear and humble readers, farewell.

O Sterne

I look at Sterne

I look at Sterne’s poem on death

My eyes move very slowly, towards Sterne’s dead figure.

Then very slowly away, back towards Sterne’s poem on death.

Then very quickly, like a fox, back to Sterne’s sluggish eyes.

“Then Sterne lets out a sigh”, I thought as I dart back to Sterne’s poem on

 

Death.

 

Sterne’s lament, by which I mean “Surphac’s lament on Sterne lamenting his own death”.

O Sterne

Poet, writer, critic and Diderot fan.

You are vanished now like a scented breeze on a humid Mediterranean sunset.

Or the painters brush, when the painter loses it.

Sterne, you are like a long twirling pole made out of

cellophane, duct tape, ahesive, alimnium, soil, rock, obsidian, fake gold and

an elevator leading right up my heart-sphere.

 

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“Panels of haz’e”, Rothko, Caspar and Nash as continuum

Keats once said of nature, “A flower is all, A tree is one and a field is none”. The absence of formal color in the works of Caspar David Freidrich rings true to keats words. We see in the prime romanticist’s works a delineation of color. I argue that Rothko and Nash are true to CDR’s original conception of the sublime yet pull it into the world of abstraction. Or, in Sterne Upps words “The medium sinks into history and time, like a bagel sinks into porridge.” 

I met Sterne In the coffee house of paris, and discussed this in late 2003. I will never forget the sense of Rothko’s presence, in the steam coming out of my coffee, reminding me of his great triptych, “Untitled 4”. There was a new fangled tube that hovered above my plate (It being Paris) and it dumped a fresh steaming Baguette. Again this fogged my glasses and continued to make the cafe seem Rothkoesque. 

Sterne mused aloud “R,C,N” (Rothko, Caspar and Nash) “R,C,N, changed the whole paradigm. Just as Sartre made me rethink my life, Rothko made me rethink Satre’s writings on life .” He gestured towards two images of Sartre on the walls. One was him inhaling smoke from a Turkish bong pipe and the other was him meditating. “you must understand that Satre and Rothko are like two clumped rhizomes.” 

Indeed Mr Sterne, Indeed it was.   

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The Darn Flipping Hypocrisies: Carlin! from their first album “You are a bad person”

Parsoni’s “The CleverC”

Leo Parsoni’s seminal french art-house “The CleverC”

To understate “The CleverC” is to make a canyon sized understatement. In simple terms Parsoni’s master-work is a tour-de force and then some. It’s politi-socio statement is beyond profound and its subtle imaginings of a tortured soul: beautiful.

To anyone who hasn’t watched it i will reluctantly give you a synopsis. I sigh out loud, sip a espresso with pine extract and begin…

Jeproute is a poor Politician for de Gaulle’s pre war regime. de Gaul wants to send Jeproute to fascist Italy. The scene cuts to a door. He enters and is interviewed by Martin Luther king about his gender. After this the film descends into cut ups of images of de Gualle’s  penis.

We see poor Jeproute climbing a telephone wire back to his student apartment and comes out through the television set. He takes LSD and meditates on what de Gualle is asking of him. In the ensuing drug induced dream he goes into his bedroom and pins up images of Spain. He ventures out and forms picket lines out side of travel agencies and restaurants, interviews people about Social class and Vietnam and then rides a motorbike to an mental hospital where he commits himself.

While inside Japroute interviews the director Parsoni about class structure and Nietzsche. The film ends with a close up of  the directors penis.

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A review of Gwuchemale’s debut album: “Me”

“I wanted to make a personal album” says Oliver Kims

Gwuchemale AKA Oliver Kims may be a wooden shelf, because I am infatuated by his new album. From the beginning he surprises you with the first lyrics, “Tree of the gods”. By the end you are left wondering what just happened.

Oliver Kims is unique amongst the “Chuvich” scene, displaying music ornamentation and folky style beyond his ska-influenced shaman roots.

Track listing

1. Tree of the gods

2. What buy?

3. The oyster of romance

4. Hazy good

5. Sand

6. Look!

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