Hermann Nitsch
Yesterday, I saw a godawful shock value/alt.binaries.pictures.tasteless style QuickTime movie, featuring a japanese girl who induces heavy vomiting by swallowing her fist and then proceeds to eat some of it. The people who posted it put forth that she "was obviously drugged" and the " Japanese are a weird, misogynistic people". Sure. People's prejudices are stripmines of the psyche. To believe that one can see if a person is drugged on a wee movie is uncannily inane. Not to mention it being a next to moot point. Industrial gore artist and viennese aktionismus dudes have done it already, and to a just a disgusting extent.
Still, keep it in the vomitorium, please. I think all these tasteless images that people keep posting on the Internet are things they should have seen during their rites-of-passage of yore. Like Cicciolina and the stallion or Faces of Death or German scheisse movies. Fucking grow up, kids.
Unfulfilling event of the week:
- masturbating for a long time and then - accidentally - dropping the load without orgasming.
Fucked be thee, ye gods of wank!
Thursday, March 23, 2000, 04:17 p.m.
Luc Devroye
Luc is into computational geometry. And fonts, which is actually where our interests meet. I must admit, I have never seen a more comprehensive list of font links and font info. Devroye has also done a fair share of fonts himself.
I hear about him thru an underground interview with font badass Apostrophe, founder of TypeWrong and former guru at alt.binaries.fonts , and very vocal commentator on font policing and policies. Apostrophe is rumoured to be sought by several font companies, who apparently con't touch him, especially since they don't know who he is. one thing is sure, he's very much of an insider. According to the interview, Devroye was close to shutting down his site, since the font cops - with Chris MacGregor of TypeRight being the forerunner - used it as a trampoline to shut down free font distributors. Read TypeRight's site regarding the somewhat weird policies they have. Allegedly, they shut down small free foundries for not having enough documentation with their fonts. Don't get me wrong: I love fonts. And I think that font creators should have creative control over them. But - reality check! - the royalties the designers get are measly compared to what musicians and photographers recieve. Most big companies give the author between 2-4 USD for each font sold. Considering that most big fonts cost 300USD and up, it's fucking peanuts!
By the way: I think I coughed so hard yesterday I broke a rib...
Monday, March 20, 2000, 05:02 p.m.
What the hell was I thinking?
The above is no link. I just couldn't do it. Why? Because I'd have to link to www.hatedbooks.com & I sure as fuck wouldn't like to do that. You understand why: I don't wanna be logged as someone who links to bugfuck quasi-nazi sites & then slanders them. & why should I link to them? Well. I was plopping in an old CD with mp3s and on it was, among other things, bad ass whiner Jon Wayne, a series of 50s sex education tracksm, Bob Log III, Lords of Svek, Merzbow & Pansonic. And super nazi country guy Johnny Rebel, rereleased by "our fellas" at Resistance Records (the label with the moniker White Pride World Wide).
Well, no biggie. I've got some nazi cowboy on a CD. And I pirated it, free and gratis, thus stealing money from nazis. Huzzah! Johnny Rebel released the record in the 60s, as a protest against the burgeoning civil liberties movement. It's a pity that it was rereleased by Resistance. Otherwise it would just be kook's music. Hail, it is TARD music! Chrissakes! Johnny sings about his old coloured "guy" who stinks up his fishingtrip. "Some niggers never die/they just smell that way", he croons. Well, Johnny Reb! I'm sure you're the one smelling now. Just like a dead skunk's choccy starfish. Still, I must admit that I smile almost all the way. Guiltily and sheepily, but still there's a smile. If Richard Pryor had done the song, I wouldn't have been TOO surprised. And then it would've been OKEY to play the song. Yawn.
Thursday, March 16, 2000, 10:33 p.m.
Giddy-up! Fuckertown beckons...
Fuckerland, the refugees from Chank's fucker.com, are back on track. Good luck, fuckers!
I just had to write something before going home. I re-read Mary Chen's latest diaryland and laughed out loud again. I looked at Loobylu's diaryland, and once again it contained a brill entry & a fab drawing. Those girls! Gotta swoon!
But my throat is sore, and I'm coughing all the time. I feel dizzy and my ears are ringing. I think I've gotta fever. I'll go home soonish. I hope I'll get well soon.
Tuesday, March 14, 2000, 04:52 p.m.
Blog Blag Blogger
I'll be darn! Here I go around, slanderin' Derek PowerCheck. And just a day or so later, up pops a major new site. Haven't had time to check it out yet, and why should I get me another weblog when I've already got a brilliant pita? Plus some motherfucker "stole" the cerdo login. Goddamn crooks. I'm not spanish anyhow, so I'll just register as "gris", the Swedish word for "pig". Why? Because I can.
And what about those weblogs? Are they just diaries on the web? or something else? Anyway, it's beginning to turn into a massive circle jerk, like all those late 90's "autobiographical" comic books.
Oohtah!!! This is pretty goldarn uncool! I was just going to up and register a blog at this very moment, but it seems that the blogger just makes it easy to update your files at ANOTHER SERVER. Thus, you have to type in your ftp path and shit. No fucking way, José! Anyone giving away their logons in a non-encryped form is just setting up to bite the BIG BULLET. Not recommended. It's just a gut reaction, but my privacy is mine, and not something I'll give up easily. And remember, I actually LIKE nipple torture...
But I gotta hand it to Derek: The site looks A-OK. But it adds nothing new, really...
Monday, March 13, 2000, 06:33 p.m.
You suck, Buzzcocks!
Yesterday, punk icons The Buzzcocks played Smålands Nation here in Lund. Although I didn't attend the event myself, friends reported that it was a very convincing set, and spirits were high amongst the members of the audience. After a hugely classic set of encores, including Orgasm Addict and Ever Fallen In Love, the band went offstage.
After the concert, one of the arrangers, Ulrika, went backstage, euphoric. She told the band that it was the best thing she had seen. As a comment, singer Pete Shelley grabbed her head, pressed it into his crotch and fucked against her head. He continued to do so for what was allegedly quite a while, while Ulrika struggled to get loose. Finally, someone managed to pry U. loose from Shelley's vice-like grip. The rest of the band was obviously embarrassed. The police was called, and Buzzcocks was charged with sexual harassment. Unfortunately, they had already left when the police arrived...
FUCK YOU, SHELLEY! YOU LITTLE OLD MAN! COME SUCK MY COCK INSTEAD!
Friday, March 10, 2000, 02:09 p.m.
What gives, Derek?
Once upon a time Derek M. Powazek was one of my foremost sources of inspiration. His fray presentations always brought a tear to my eye and a bone to my cock. But now? Well, Derek seems to be surfing quite a bit. That, and gabbing about 'blogging and 'blogs. His personal site is still good looking, but the content doesn't really pack a punch. Look who's talking: mister pig himself, mister poor updater, mister null-content.
Seriously, please get back in the saddle, Derek! Show me what you've got! I bet you still pack one helluva punch! [Here's an article about Derek, that I wrote for Monitor, a local magazine. It's in swedish, y'all!]
Friday, March 10, 2000, 11:00 a.m.
Mister Slick...
Lord, I still feel tired. Like some beaten fella in a John Prine song. After all, I attended the aforementioned Supersuckers gig. And boy oh boy was it a swank event! I had my hands shaped into constant "satan salutes". Thus, when one of my fave 'Suckers tunes revved up, I thrust mah horned fist in the air so fast it took my glasses with it. Off they flew, right into the moch epicentre. I'm fucking blind without my glasses. Luckily enough, some of my friends saw my conundrum and helped me out, a blind island in a sea of revellers. I had a big ole crack in one of the glasses, but other than that, they survived. Frig's sake! I'm 32! I should be listening to goldarn Enya! Or at least "Satan is real" by the Louvin Brothers.
I felt like shit the entire weekend, battered and feverish and tinnitused, so I stayed home monday/tuesday. I read some & watched some movies. I started doing some poster suggestions for a friend's new band. But by jove! Supersuckers are really a great live band! Worth it all.
Thursday, March 9, 2000, 06:51 p.m.
