tweaking and re-furbishing my website some more. how strange to link to a page which lives in the same directory as this blog. oh internet…..is there nothing you can’t do?
Encountered this phrase while reading William Gibson’s latest “Zero History”. Love it. Slut’s wool.
Steven’s super 8 documentation of tuxedomoon’s journey through the years. now on ubuweb, the fabulous archive of all things modern.
I am still a space booster. I remember playing space capsule in and around my father’s car while i listened to the broadcasts from the mercury spacecraft on the car radio. now we send a car to mars.
it is a great shame that we have let our space program drift into obscurity. I was watching “2001” with Maria last night, filled with sorrow that our vision of what we could and should do in space shrunk from the space station, the lunar base and the mission to jupiter with an artifically intelligent computer aboard by 2001 shown in the film to the orbiting trailer park we have now.
I often think that if there is a ufo alien conspiracy, its purpose is to keep us out of the galaxy by thwarting our efforts in space at every turn (including inserting negative messages about space travel into our media or our sleeping minds). I guess I wouldn’t want us moving into the neighborhood either.
Call me Johnny. Johnny Harpoon. This is my city. Ten million zeroes, and no matter how you add it up, still comes out the same…zero. It’s like one shoe lying in the gutter in the rain and nobody knows where the other shoe is and why there’s never more than one– Dead eyes staring up at the steel-wool sky crunch of broken glass beneath my heels hiss of my tires rolling through the sweaty night. I’m meeting some flybait calls himself “Slash” or “Trash” says he can put a name to the polaroid in my pocket for the right price…a dime bag of milk-sugar skag I keep stashed for assholes like him. I smell him coming, that metallic B.O. He scans the Polaroid with some snot-caked black box he built himself, says “3645 Market Street. Ask for Dog.” Palms the skag. Fades into the alley. Two hours later I’m at the door asking for Dog. There’s a squeal like a flash charging and the Subsonic Taser hits me in the back. As I go down I tongue my false tooth twice and my hat fires a dart into Dog’s throat. I rubber leg it out the door and collapse onto a pile of garbage bags. I come to ten minutes later, they’re loading Dog into the meat wagon, and the blue uniform is playing Keith Moon on my head with his nightstick. He passes his handscan over my wrist and my picture and license number come up on its little screen. He arrests me anyway. I’m leaving the station house and I’m beat. I drag ass into the all-night liquor store for a deck of butts and a bottle. Some dork with a headful of Carbona has a shotgun at Chang’s belly. I drop to one knee, pull my .22 out of my sock and fire. The explosive round just glides into that junky’s brain pan, and he blooms like a hamburger rose. Chang’s splattered with brains and blood, but I don’t pay for the butts or the booze. I look back, Chang’s pulping that slime with his baseball bat, smiling like it’s his wedding day. Call me johnny. Johnny Harpoon. This is my city…10 million zeroes and no matter how you add it up it still comes out the same..zero. I’m going home to plug my head into the wall socket. Get some relief.
Listen to the track
A Bill Burroughs Thanksgiving prayer. (thanks to graeme whifler)
It’s a thursday. It is a big ol’ holiday in america. I have been in Europe too long and it hardly registers. I could feel a twinge of nostalgia for all of those family dinners with grandma and the cousins and so on, but I don’t. Not really.
Been wrestling all morning with the wordpress blog. I have been wondering whether to move this sphere of activity from the cloud or public or whatever one calls all of the blog sites to a remote server controlled (rented) by me. This work is fascinating and compelling to me, as puzzle solving is to all of us primates.
And now, I have successfully imported the blogger posts into this new wordpress blog. how fab. now it is all here for everyone to ignore.
Blaine L. Reininger: Music for Dance and Theater
“Music for Dance and Theater is the latest album from legendary American artist/composer Blaine L. Reininger. best know for his work with the seminal cult band Tuxedomoon in the late 1970’s. Music for Dance and Theater is a collection of works recorded by Reininger in 2010 and 2011 for stage productions from 5 different Greek directors and choreographers. Music for Dance and Theater is an epic work melding classical influences with post-punk, minimalist and electronic textures. Dark and brooding, the 14 tracks are transformative in their depth. Rock has yielded a scant few composers that can stand with the greats of classical music. Reininger is one of them. Stream and buy Music For Dance and Theater at the link below.”
this wordpress lark is pretty damn complicated. It looks so good, though. this is why so many sites look so profi these days. the big question is how will i incorporate it into mundoblaineo, or tuxedomoon.co?
On December 5, 1999 Mundoblaineo was first set upon an unsuspecting (and largely uncaring) world. Upon visiting the United States in 1999, for the first time in 17 years, my friend Bob Pusatory gifted me with my first internet capable computer, his old Compaq Presario equipped with a Pentium 486 processor (33 Mhz!)! Using this worthy beast and a dial-up connection from EEXI (The Greek Association of Internet Users), I downloaded a tutorial from Netscape which taught one how to write a webpage from HTML which showed a picture of a cat. Laboring many sleepless hours over the divine and maddening puzzles posed by website design, I expanded this page until it became the sprawling megalopolis I called “Mundoblaineo”.
I have kept this throbbing node of code these many years, updating and refining with an obsessive dedication that I show for no other discipline. I am unsure why. I have spent nights chained to a dial-up connection in the hotel rooms of Tuscany, the teenage lofts of Berlin, the suburban bedrooms of Athens, and the wi-fi zones of Belgium, tinkering and tweaking and poking this thing until my eyes are burning grapes hanging out on their stalks. It is also unclear how many people actually visit this monument to my narcissism, this smear of chicken fat flung up against the firmament as a feeble hedge against the inevitable dissolution of my selfhood, the earthen embrace of Xaros, Magere Hein, The Grim etc….
And upon Kurzweil’s “singularity”, will I have the means, the will, the presence of mind, to dispatch an encoded simulacrum of my fabulousness, a Blainebot, a digital Golem who will fulfill the world’s need for my presence? I pretty much doubt it.
Today, I slap another coat of paint on the old wreck and kick it back out the door. I hope somebody sees.
November 20, 2011