Sunday, 14 March 2010


It could be a breeding ground. I think this is pretty important, and the related stew, for vignettes as brilliant as:

"I believe that the future of the money shot will involve the impossibility of male ejaculation, which is still too human, too teleological. Impotent men will toss themselves off in vain while a pretty young girl gazes up at them as if at the cosmos itself. There will be no mediation."

amongst others. Having been in Cambridge a lot, I am stoked about Katko, Liron, Weber and Manson to such a degree that I'm having trouble sleeping; Katko reading the lyrics to JLS' One Shot as the song played through in its entirety was both funny and incredibly touching, the Epic/Sony production juggernaut being filtered through Katko playing Pinter/Wournos in the basement darkness of the Judith E. Wilson studio a premise the song could (probably) never have anticipated, its proxy, slick, crotch-grabbing emotion somehow hi-jacked into live & singular tenderness by its appropriation through Will Stuart's Transfigurations. The re-figuring of corporate passion as substitute, placebo, satiric enjambment or brutally relentless subjectivity, not to mention knife-wielding compassion, seems hard-wired into any useful reaction to what is commonly known as love & shopping - I'll get the lads out, Robbie's already downed a bottle of absinthe and is sicking up the alphabet. In any case, I loved Jordan Hunt's piece as well, and perhaps I wouldn't have done had I seen it in any other setting, but I didn't, and as far as I'm concerned it rammed its own futility up the backside of most of the derision it could've engendered, flailing helplessly & all-too-aware of its own impotence in the face of non- contemporaneousness both relational and chronological. Shit hurts. I'm not talking about boyfriends by the way :) O Tuborg dark, the liquid soundtrack washing me to gentler shores. Tate tomorrow. Hype Williams & the Hounds of Hate, all of that, etc. x

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