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Little Dragon, Ritual Union live in HD @Berlin Studio (Aufnahmezustand).

New York's Graffiti Mecca Receives Another Makeover In Protest Of Gentrification The Queens graffiti mecca 5 Pointz was whitewashed last year to make way for a high-end condo building. A lot of people, many of whom had tried to get the building landmarked, were upset. Among them were artists gilf! and BAMN (By Any Means Necessary), who on Saturday draped a giant "GENTRIFICATION IN PROGRESS" banner across the Jackson Avenue side of the 5 Pointz building. (huff)

Jenny Holzer, The Living Series (1980-1982)

Duke and Battersby, Bad Ideas for Paradise (2001).

Steve Reinke on Bad Ideas for Paradise: "There is no such thing as self-esteem. Self-esteem as a construct is illogical and contradictory, so its frequent deployment as the lynch-pin of New Age discourse seems to me satisfyingly appropriate. I don't trust anyone who doesn't have frequent bouts of self-loathing. There is something truly monstrous about the self-righteous. Eating a well-balanced diet is a horrible act of aggression. Whenever I hear the word 'culture' I think of bacteria mutating under an ultraviolet light and I';m happy again for a while. Within the petri dish: unfettered egoless desire, the proliferation of new possibilities ideas made flesh, uncaring and finally airborne. Empathy is a tool for making the cruelty more precise. Beauty is independent of taste; the sublime only works for suckers. Whenever I laugh I feel guilty."

Bad Ideas for Paradise is a 20-minute episodic videotape. Funny, touching and ambitious in scope, Bad Ideas continues to deal with many of the themes addressed in Duke and Battersby's earlier works: addiction, spirituality, identity, relationship dynamics and the ongoing quest for joy.

i liked your shit and diseases.

thanks a lot, yopablo, your tumblr looks great, too-- i'll be exploring soon!

sexpigeon

mkarmstr

Cutbacks. (sexpigeon)

Lissie, Go Your Own Way (Fleetwood Mac cover)

accidentallydomesticated

mkarmstr

(515)

westerndemocracy-deactivated202

Perhaps you will understand me better when I tell you that Dada is a virgin microbe that penetrates with the insistence of air into all the spaces that reason has not been able to fill with words or conventions.

Tristan Tzara, from the second Dadaist Manifesto. (4-meo-pcp)

Short Talk On Shelter

by Anne Carson You can write on a wall with a fish heart, it's because of the phosphorous. They eat it. There are shacks like that down along the river. I am writing this to be as a wrong as possible to you. Replace the door when you leave, it says. Now you tell me how wrong that is, how long it glows. Tell me.

betty-burnout

mkarmstr

Sarah and Joseph Belknap, Chalkboard Skull (sisifo:cl:op)

Detroit prosecutors working to get thousands of rape kits tested, some of which may contain evidence for cases two decades old, will get help from the state, Michigan Gov. Rick Snyder and Attorney General Bill Schuette announced on Wednesday.

LAMENTS

THE NEW DISEASE CAME. I LEARNED THAT TIME DOES NOT HEAL. EVERYTHING GETS WORSE WITH DAYS. I HAVE SPOTS LIKE A DOG. I COUGH AND CANNOT TURN MY HEAD. I CONSIDER SLEEPING WITH PEOPLE I DO NOT LIKE. I NEED TO LIE BACK TO FRONT WITH SOMEONE WHO ADORES ME. I WILL THINK MORE BEFORE I CANNOT. I LOVE MY MIND WHEN IT IS FUCKING THE CRACKS OF EVENTS. I WANT TO TELL YOU WHAT I KNOW IN CASE IT IS OF USE. I WANT TO GO TO THE FUTURE PLEASE. IF THE PROCESS STARTS I WILL KILL THIS BABY A GOOD WAY. SHE CAN LIE ON MY FAMILIAR BELLY. OUR BACKS WILL BE IN LINE AND THEN INDISTINGUISHABLE. I WILL TAKE HER DOWN BEFORE SHE FEELS THE FEAR THAT IS CAUSE AND RESULT. WITH ONLY MY MIND TO PROTECT ME I GO INTO DAYS. WHAT I FEAR IS IN A BOX WITH FUR TO MUFFLE IT. EVERYDAY I DO NOTHING BECAUSE I AM SCARED BLANK AND LAZY, BUT THEN THE MEN COME. I PUT MY MOUTH ON THEM. I SPIT AND WRITE WITH THE WET. THE WET SAYS WHAT MUST STOP AND WHAT SHALL BEGIN. I SPIT BECAUSE THE DEATH SMELL IS TOO CLOSE TO ME. THE STINK MAKES WORDS TELL THE TRUTH ABOUT WHO KILLS AND WHO IS THE VICTIM. DEATH IS THE MODERN ISSUE. NO RECORD OF JOY CAN BE LIKE THE JUICE THAT JUMPS THROUGH YOUR SKULL WHEN YOU ARE PERFECT IN SEX. YOU POSITION YOUR SPINE UNTIL IT WAVES. YOUR HANDS RUN TO SPOTS THAT FEEL DIFFERENT. BREATHING TELLS THE PERSON WHAT TO DO. YOU TRY TO STOP BECAUSE THAT IS THE FUN. THEN YOU SQUEEZE AND BECOME UNCONSCIOUS NEAR WHOMEVER WHICH IS THE DANGEROUS THING IN THE WORLD. ARE THE END YOU DO NOT WANT. YOU CARRY THIS SENSATION TO THE CRUEL PLACES YOU GO. THERE IS NO ONE'S SKIN UNDER MY FINGERNAILS. THERE IS NO ONE TO WATCH MY HAIR GROW. NO ONE LOOKS AT ME WHEN I WALK. PEOPLE WANT ME TO PAY MONEY FOR EACH THING I GET.. I HAVE EVERY KIND OF THOUGHT AND THAT IS NO EMBARRASSMENT. I LOOK AT MYSELF WHEN I BATHE. WHAT I GIVE TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO DO NOT WANT TO LIVE WITH ME IS ARITHMETIC. I COUNT INFANTS AND OREDICT THEIR DAYS. I SUBTRACT PEOPLE KILLED FOR ONE REASON OR ANOTHER. I GUESS THE NEW REASONS AND PROJECT THEIR EFFICACY. I DECORATE MY NUMBERS AND CIRCULATE THEM. I HAVE A HOT HOLE THAT WAS PUT IN ME. I CAN LIVE WITH IT. PEOPLE MADE IT AND USE IT TO GET TO ME. I CAN HURT IT TOO BUT USUALLY I PUT MY THINKING THERE FOR EXCITEMENT. WHEN MY MIND IS RIGHT I CAN SAY WHAT NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR. I BRAG ABOUT MY INDIFFERENCE, BUT THE LAST KIND PART OF ME RAVES BECAUSE I WILL NOT BE THE ONLY DEAD ONE. I KEEP THE HOLE OPEN. I WANT TO LIVE IN A SILVER WRAPPER. I WILL SEE WHOOPING ROCKS FLY. I WILL ICE ON MY BLACK SIDE AND STEAM ON THE OTHER WHEN I FLOAT BY SUNS. I WANT TO LICK FOOD FROM MY CEILING. I AM AFRAID TO STAY ON THE EARTH. FATHER HAS CARRIED ME THIS FAR ONLY TO HAVE ME BURB AT THE EDGE OF SPACE. FACTS STAY IN YOUR MIND UNTIL THEY RUIN IT. THE TRUTH IS PEOPLE ARE PUSHED AROUND BY TWO MEN WHO MOVE ALL THE BODIES ON EARTH INTO PATTERNS THAT PLEASE THEM. THE PATTERNS THAT SPELL OH NO NO NO BUT IT DOES NO GOOD TO WRITE SYMBOLS. YOU HAVE TO DO THE RIGHT ACTS WITH YOUR BODY. I SEE SPACE AND IT LOOKS LIKE NOTHING AND I WANT IT AROUND ME. I WAS SICK FROM ACTING NORMAL.. I WATCHED REPLAYS OF THE WAR. WHEN NOTHING HAPPENED I CLOSED A ZONE WHERE I EXERT CONTROL. I FORMED A GOVERNMENT THAT IS AS WELCOME AS SEX. I AM GOOD TO PEOPLE UNTIL THEY DO SOMETHING STUPID. I STOP THE HABITUAL MISTAKES THAT MAKE FATE. I GIVE PEOPLE TIME SO THEY FEEL THEIR LIVES MOVING OVER THEIR SKINS. I WANT A LARGER ARENA. I TEASE WITH THE POSSIBILITY OF MY ABSENCE. THE KNIFE CUT RUNS AS LONG AS IT WANTS. IT IS THROUGH MY STOMACH. I KEEP LOOKING AT IT. I HAVE MORE COLORS THAN I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT. THE WHOLE IS LARGE ENOUGH FOR MY HEAD. THE HOLE WAS BIG ENOUGH FOR THEIR HANDS TO MOVE FREELY. THEY PUT THEIR FINGERS IN BECAUSE THEY SHOULD NOT AND BECAUSE THEY DO NOT GET THE CHANCE EVERY DAY. DEATH CAME AND HE LOOKED LIKE A RAT WITH CLAWS. I MADE HIM GO INTO THE WALL. I KEEP HIM THERE WITH THE PRESSURE OF MY MIND. I HEAR HIM SCRATCHING AND CLIMBING. MY THOUGHTS FLY TO THE WALL TO SEAL THE CRACKS AND ADD PLASTER LAYERS FOR STRENGTH. I KEEP MY BRAIN ON SO I DO NOT FALL INTO NOTHING IF HIS CLAW HURT ME. I DO NOT WANT TO LEAVE MY HOUSE AND THE PEOPLE I LIKE. I DO NOT WANT TO STOP KNOWING ALL MY FACTS. I DO NOT WAHT MY BODY TO TURN INTO SOMETHING ELSE.. WHEN A RAT MAKES YOU UNCONSCIOUS YOU GO ON A CONVEYOR BELT AND ARE DUMPED FROM THE END. YOU DROP IN SPACE AND NEVER HIT BOTTOM EVEN THOUGH YOU NEED TO AS TIME PASSES. I CAN MAKE WOMEN'S BREASTS WEEP. I DREAM WORDS. MY IDEAS COME FROM MY SKIN. I WAKE IN TERROR FROM WHAT IS IN ME BEFORE EXPERIENCE. I CAN CONJURE WHAT HAS NEVER BEEN TO DAZZLE MYSELF. I DO NOT WANT TO BE EATEN. I MOVE IN AN ENVELOPE OF ALL SMELLS. I HOOT WHEN MY BRAIN FILLS.

--Jenny Holzer

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Little Dragon, Twice

It is very interesting that nothing inside in them, that is when you consider the very long history of how every one ever acted or has felt, it is very interesting that nothing inside in them in all of them makes it connectedly different… The only thing that is different from one time to another is what is seen and what is seen depends upon how everybody is doing everything. This makes the thing we are looking at very different and this makes what those describe it make of it, it makes a composition…Nothing changes from generation to generation except the thing seen and that makes a composition. Gertrude Stein, Composition as Explanation (1926).

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