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Sunday, 13 May 2007 |
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I remember a sunny Berkeley afternoon some thirty-plus years ago.
Sitting in the living room at Ashby House
(first house on the right, heading downhill, after Claremont Ave.;
it's still there, but not as nice:
they added the ugly addition and removed all the leaded glass windows),
listening to Radioactivity, the new Kraftwerk album with my hippie friend, Russell.
Drinking beer, smoking dope and Camel cigarets,
as was the order of of the day every day at Ashby House.
Antenna came on the stereo.
Halfway through the song, Russell started shouting:
"That IS NOT music! I don't know what it is, but it IS NOT MUSIC!"
I'm not sure what he meant. It's my favorite Kraftwerk song.
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Tuesday, 21 November 2006 |
My mother cried
When president Kennedy died
She said it was the communists
But we knew better
We were born
Born in the fifties
Born, born in the fifties
—The Police, "Born in the Fifties"
Jackie Kennedy
cradles her husband after bullets shot by snipers on the grassy knoll
blew half his head off. This act of war against the United States, of high treason, changed the
course of American history. The assassination, and the failure of our
country's leaders to bring the killers to justice was, and remains, the
central fact, the darkness at the core of our American Republic.
I was in eighth grade when John Kennedy was killed. I remember
standing in the cafeteria with the whole student body as a teacher told
us that John Kennedy was dead in Dallas. I will never forget
that day, the shock, the sadness: who among us of my generation will? We loved John Kennedy and
the great promise of America, for all Americans, not
just the few, that he embodied. If you were not there, you cannot
really know how exciting it was—the killers killed so much more than a
man that day.
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Sunday, 10 December 2006 |
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Wednesday, 03 January 2007 |
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Marie, swathed in Edenic garb.
From the Associated Press:
FERNDALE, Mich. - A Detroit man, Ronald A. Dotson, with a history of smashing store windows to grab female mannequins has been accused of indulging his fetish again.
And from Salon.com, a front page story on the third of January:
Big breasts for dummies:
Mannequins with giant bazooms are busting out
in shop windows from coast to coast. More than just garment racks, they
are a mirror of current beauty and fashion.
"... but these mannequins with their
massive chests crossed the line from a little harmless obsession with
appearance to a society run amok.
I grabbed my husband's hand and jerked him to a stop in front of the
store. 'Look at that!' I demanded. He was already looking ..."
I
do not believe in coincidences. That these two stories appeared on the
same day is just one more auspicious portent of the shape of things to
come now that the Democrats have taken control of both houses of
Congress.
Joking.
That was a joke.
You may read my insights into Ronald's unfortunate compulsion, coupled with a culture of enablers, on the flip-flop.
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Monday, 08 January 2007 |
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 Born today, January 8, Elvis Presley and David Bowie
"... a long long time ago.
Who knows? Not me.
I never lost control.
You're face to face
With the man who sold the world ..."
—The Man Who Sold The World, D. Bowie
SUN POP BLUE MULTIPLE CHOICE QUIZ: Okay, kids, which of the following celebrities, all of whom were born on January 8th, was captured on video peeing on a 15 year-old girl's head? (on the flip-flop)
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Saturday, 07 April 2007 |
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Pianist
Alessandra Celletti somehow found my instrumental music page on MySpace some time back and sent me a friend request some time
ago on MySpace. I have always enjoyed her music. She added another page called "Alessandra Celletti
Plays Satie." I finally got around to listening to the pieces on her page. Simply amazing work.
Satie has always been one of my favorite composers, so I am
acquainted with many different recordings of his work. And I must
say that her "Trois Gymnopedies" - featured on her myspace page - rivals classical guitarist
Christopher Parkening's interpretation of "Cuna" by Mompou, perhaps my favorite
piece of music of all time (I don't know why: it just is. Jorma
Kaukonen's acoustic guitar piece "Embryonic Journey" on the
Jefferson Airplane album Surrealistic Pillow runs a close second,
but I need to write a full essay on that little jewel-cloud of magic - soon) for
breathtaking simplicity and beauty.
But she has done it again with this piece, which is one of the Pieces Froides and is on her new Satie cd. Lovely music, haunting video.
Thank you Alessandra!
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Saturday, 02 December 2006 |
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I am just posting this before I head out. I will be fleshing out, so to
speak, this post later. This site is supposed to be about music, art,
literature ... but I know what you really want to read about.
Sexual Consent the video.
I don't know who Dr. Ava Cadell is, but I first thought her
downloadable Sexual Consent form was a joke. But then I read
this:
Sexual Consent Form - Dr. Ava Cadell
All I can say is: Bring Back The Seventies.
Here is another article reaffirming my belief that biology trumps all. I touched much of this in my Salon.com article, The Gentlemanly Art of Spanking, some years back, but it is nice to hear from a woman, in a woman's voice.
How Feminism Ruined My Sex Life
An excerpt:
You know that stuff you’ve been reading in the girly magazines
that tell you that women like to be romanced with candlelit dinners
before you gently (gently!) make love to them by first giving them
hours of oral pleasure and then softly (oh so softly!) penetrating them
while staring lovingly into their eyes…always making absolutely sure
that they reach orgasm first?
Well, it’s all bunk.
Do you want to know what we really talked about when discussing
the best sex we ever had? We talked about our scraped knees and the
bruises on our backs where we were bitten in the throes of passion. No
one even mentioned that time you filled the bathtub full of rose petals
and blah, blah, blah. It was that time in the back seat of an old chevy
with our faces crudely pressed up against the window that got us
hot.
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Monday, 15 January 2007 |
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Discovering the writings of Corwainer Smith in the early 1970's was a
life-changing revelation. At that time, neither his one novel, Norstrilia,
nor any comprehensive compilation of his incredible short stories were
in print. For years, I would scour used bookstores in search of his
stories, finding one of his stories in this or that compilation, in
print, not in print, whatever. Needless to say, his writing had a
profound effect on me and I have striven to create worlds, in music and
art and words, as strange, as haunting, and, I hope, as full of love as
his works, amidst the weirdness. Not that I come close in that regard:
but one must aim high. Smith's stories do not grow old. Interestingly,
although he was almost unknown 25 years ago, he is regularly deemed the
most influential science fiction writer of all time now. I recommend
his books, Norstrilia and The Rediscovery of Man without hesitation.
Illustration: The Bulbous Worlds from my novel Flapping.
From 1950 to 1966, stories appeared in mainstream science fiction magazines by an author named "Cordwainer Smith". From the first to the last, these stories were acclaimed as among the most inventive and striking ever written,
and that in a field specializing in the inventive and the striking.
Their author was a very private man who did not want his real name to
be known because he did not want to be pursued by SF fans. It was only
after his death in 1966 that more than a handful of people knew that
"Cordwainer Smith" was in real life Paul M. L. Linebarger.
by James B. Jordan Copyright © 1991 Originally published in Contra Mundum No. 2 Winter 1992
Paul Myron Anthony Linebarger
Paul Linebarger was born in 1913, the grandson of a clergyman. His
father, an eccentric man, had served as a Federal District Judge in the
Philippines, but had left this post to work full time for the cause of
the Chinese republican reformer Sun Yat Sen, who became Paul's
godfather. Paul Linebarger grew up in the retinue of Sun Yat Sen, for
his father stayed with Sen during his exile in Japan and throughout his
career in China.
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Friday, 16 March 2007 |
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David Bowie sings Simon and Garfunkel's "America." "Changes" at rehearsal in 1976.
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Friday, 06 April 2007 |
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I forget how I found photographer Jordan
Matter's site, "Uncovered: Busting Out in the Big
Apple," but who cares, now that I think about it!? We just like pictures of naked girls ... uh ... I mean ... women.
One finds, much to one's delight, all shapes, sizes, and ages of women cavorting topless in various locales around the city.
Funny, sweet, and beautiful. All of them.
"I
had a meeting with a casting director from LA. Without a glance at my
headshot or resume, and not even a decent introduction, this stranger
looks at me, all 5 feet and two inches, 125 pounds ofme and says,'You
need to lose twenty or gain thirty because where you are right now, I
can't do a thing with you.' A bit thrown, but not wanting to be rude, I
asked,'Can you elaborate on that?' To which she replied,'Your face says
ingenue, but it wouldn't quite work, and I can't put you as fat best
friend because you are not exactly fat.'" --Katy, On Broadway
Jordan Matter on his work: "This is a collection of photographs featuring bare-breasted
women in public around New York City, often presented with
interviews exploring the issues of body image and sexuality in
America today. The informal and humorous nature of these images
celebrates women without sexualizing or objectifying them, while
creating the illusion of a tolerant world in which shirtless women
go casually about their lives."
"The
magazine racks are filled withwomen basically naked. When I get dressed
to go out, I wear things that are basically showing my boobs anyway.
It's not trashy. Everybody does it." -Julia, on the subway.
time to sing...
Start spreading the news
I'm leaving today
I want to be a part of it, New York, New York
These vagabond shoes
Are longing to stray
And make a brand new start of it
New York, New York
I want to wake up in the city that never sleeps
To find I'm king of the hill, top of the heap
These little town blues
Are melting away
Frank Sinatra, New York, New York
[more pics on the flip-flop]
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Sunday, 26 November 2006 |
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This poor girl is in for a big surprise ... or, looking at her body language, maybe she got the surprise last night.
Many years ago, I was the member of a club that met on Tuesday
evenings. Mutual friends introduced me to an attractive, tall blonde
woman, whom I shall call T. I was immediately smitten.
It turned out that T was the coffee and snack person for the weekly
gathering, but didn't have a car. Naturally, I offered to pick her up
and drive her and the goodies to and from the meeting.
Over the next few weeks, we got better acquainted and my hopes for a
more intimate relationship were bouyed by our conversations about
music, the seventies, her claims that she was a total pervert ... you
know, the usual.
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Saturday, 20 January 2007 |
The (song)Device
SunPopBlue salutes the visionary behind the (song)Device, embodying, as it does, our bizarro world Zeitgeist: the hyper-capitalist fundamental, planned-obsolescence, the Microsoft approach to digital rights management, and the eBay path to easy money via selling cheapo gizmos from China. "Bid with utter confidence" rather sums it up, doesn't it?
In the Artist's own words:
Disposable Pop Songs
"After carefully studying the works of Alex Chilton, Chris Bell, Stephin Merrit and
others (in case the business of writing pop songs is outsourced). The Artist has carefully and
finely handcrafted this song.
The wooden frame encloses a chip, on
turning a knob it dispenses an original pop song. Enclosed along with the song are (in no particular order): bills (paid and
unpaid), flowers from sidewalks, post-its, sketches, blue prints for
big plans, etc. These may or may not have
anything to do with the song being played.
After about four plays
the song degenerates into noise, thus rendering the (song)Device useless.
You can then use the (song)Device, as either:
- (song)Device for churning out Stockhausen like symphonies or
- Dispose the
(song)device, thus symbolically rejecting materialism and
therefore turning into some kind of Neo-Buddhist.
The (song)Device,thus functions as
some kind of swiss army knife of cool, the one
stone that kills many birds...etc. wholesome and educational
entertainment for the whole family-the perfect gift for
Christmas.
Bid with utter confidence.
[similar] items [from all eBay sellers] on the flip-flop
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Monday, 26 February 2007 |
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La Danse, by Henri Matisse
My old friend, Jon Carroll, of the San Francisco Chronicle
wrote the following column a while back. I was just going to quote it,
but it is such a good read (and so hard to find) I think I'll just
steal the whole thing.
Chronicle Books published a collection of Jon's columns a few years back, Near-Life Experiences.
I will tell you this: his column "How To Drive In Indonesia" is worth
the price of the book alone. I have read it so many times over the
years, laughing out loud starting about the third paragraph and on
through the rest of the piece.
In the eighties, I used to see Jon at the
M&M Tavern, at the bar, stack of magazines and papers, a drink, a
pack of cigarettes and an ashtray arrayed around him, deep in
concentration, reading, working. He hates me to say things like this, but he was a true hero of mine in my youth, along with David Bowie, Keith Richards, Iggy Pop, columnist Herb Caen, and, of course, Kojak.
Herewith Jon's Matisse column:
If you're going to read only one
thousand-page book about a French artist this year, make it "The
Unknown Matisse," by Hilary Spurling, in two volumes, winner of
many awards, filled with big fun, poverty, struggle, scandal and
lots of paintings. Cast of hundreds, many of them famous. Can't
miss.
I do want to direct your attention to the
color plates in the first volume, particularly plate No. 6. The
caption reads: "The Dinner Table,' 1896-97. (100 x 131 cm.) The
first in a long line of Matisse's works to outrage the public at
the annual Paris salons; the other three remained too disturbing to
show to anyone except friends in private."
Oh my; it's those naughty French artists
again, free and zany in Montmartre, painting things to shock the
bourgeoise. And what could it be? It is a woman arranging flowers
at a dinner table. The woman is fully clothed. The food on the
table is mostly fruit, including pears and lemons. The painting is,
if not precisely representational, entirely uncryptic -- a plate
looks like a plate, a chair looks like a chair, a wine decanter
looks like a wine decanter. There are no disemboweled rabbits,
watches floating in space, great smeary bits of color, glued-on
bits of hair and fingernails -- nothing like that.
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Sunday, 26 November 2006 |
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 Intellectual Whores Homepage
Home of the Ladder Theory in male/female relationships.
I can't remember how I found this site - so often the case, isn't it? But I periodically return for a laugh. This guy has given the nature of attraction a lot of
thought. And I must say that his theories and analyses of the the
ongoing situation are consistent with my own extensive experience and
observations over the years.
I have been both asshole and nice guy in years past. Nice guy (listens to her problems, is sympathetic, polite, etc.) almost without fail gets relegated to friend status. Asshole (showing up drunk once or twice a month and rapping loudly on her window after the bars close) gets welcomed into her warm bed.
 Ladies:
You can protest all you want, but the facts are the facts.
I love his bit about what women say they care about but really don't: intelligence, sense of humor, honesty, sensitivity etc. ... I know ... that stuff counts ... later.
Not saying I agree with everything he says all the time, but the Intellectual Whores Homepage, but much of what he says rings true.
Salient excerpts from the site after the jump on the "Cuddle Bitch"— a place no man wants to go, and also on Beethoven's Fur Elise,
a brilliant analysis of how Louie von B probably used the same piece of
music to seduce countless countesses.
(Note to self: would this be disingenuous thing to do? Must ponder when time affords.)
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Saturday, 02 December 2006 |
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Wednesday, 14 February 2007 |
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Happy Valentines Day
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Tuesday, 31 July 2007 |
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Let's get a couple things out of the way. The members of U2 are quite
talented. Talented marketers, businessmen, team members. The also
posess a fair amount of musical talent. They know how to hire the best,
produce shimmering collections of songs, and market them as the last true band, the last band that matters.
The fact is that their sound is largely the creation of Brian Eno and
Daniel Lanois. Their greatest songs are mostly Eno songs, Daniel Lanois
songs. No matter. Poetic pop constructs ... perfectly mixed mastered
and printed ... puffery pings the Zeitgeist ... but that's not enough for Bono.
Poor
Bono wants a Nobel, or a Pulitzer. He won't say it out loud. But this
hustler recognizes that world-class hustler's game, and if I didn't
find him such an ass, I would tip my hat.
He and Oprah have come up with Project(RED),
whereby consumers consume and a portion of the profits (not the gross)
are donated to African AIDS charities. Approximately $100 Million has
been spent by huge corporations for advertising, plastering Bono's face
all over the world, at their expense. As the British say,"Brilliant!"
So
far they've raised perhaps $25 million for charity from sales generated
by that $100 Million marketing campaign. Makes perfect sense, doesn't
it?
Okay, after the jump. The story that demonstrates to me that U2 are the most self-important ... uh ... dickwads on earth, and, as such, sit at the
same table with Sting and his god-awful horse-faced wife.
But
before you go, please note this picture of Bono with Dr. Gupta,
the man the Bush administration has sent out to trash Michael Moore and
his movie Sicko. Bono cavorts with Bush. What else do you need to know?
{okay, now click on read more}
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Tuesday, 12 September 2006 |
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From the photo-documentary, "Year in the Life of a Winery."
Amazing photography by Stephanie Grant.
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Sunday, 19 November 2006 |
A retro kanga look this season.
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