Clarence Stately-Holmes is the alias I used to use for my (slightly embarrassing but very fun to write) Grimewatch column in Vice where I would write about stuff like Jammer's imaginary line of night-wear for kids, Py-Jammers.
Yesterday I decided to Google the name and found that as well as an a
emo teen from New Zealand using it as his screen name on Bebo, by
strange coincidence, there is a real-life guy called Clarence Stately.
He is a US soldier who has been stationed in Iraq, he seems to love
Halo 3 and Silent Hill and we are now best mates on Facebook. He is
currently back at home but has promised he will send me a regular war
diary the next time he heads out for a stint in Iraq.
Wow, little did we know when we decided to drop some science on the Yes Men's half-assed New York Times prank it would actually be pre-science that wound up shattered on the ground. This morning Is Greater Than ran an interview with one of the original participants in the Times hoax who walked out of the project when she realized the whole thing was becoming more about getting the Yes Men's face on TV again than making any sort of coherent point about the New York Times, corporate control of mainstream press, or the war in Iraq. She makes some good points we wish we'd thought of yesterday, like how activists are so consumed with getting media attention for their cause they start tailoring it to be more marketable, and how, at the end of the day, groups like the Yes Men are more interested with establishing the equity of their own brand (thankfully we were able to slide a mention of those asinine "brandless" sneakers Adbusters sells into the comments but believe-you-us are we kicking ourselves for leaving them out in the first place).
Speaking of empowered women rebelling against the system, Jubilee is screening a few times this evening at BAM. Like many movies with a feminist twist, it’s rambly and goes nowhere, but at least it’s got time travel, outfits you wish you'd have the tits to wear, all the greats in late-70s new wave punk, murder, arson, babes, dwarves, and various acts of social transgression. And that’s all the stuff you need to have an amazing viewing experience. Plus, since it's a big giant fuck-you to elitist government, which is basically a big giant fuck-you to authority (aka mom and dad), it'll send you into top asshole form when you show up for turkey with the family tomorrow.
So the “holiday” hits and suddenly we find out who’s a class-cutter and who's dedicated to ditching their families in order to stay in the office and work. And holy shit! It’s basically all ladies here today. We’re really not missing the usual witty banter about video games, going out, eating food, and having/spending money; actually, we’re frantically trying to take advantage of this “safe space” by sponsoring a proactive Girl Corner.
From the vaults of psych collector morass Endless Boogie have pulled themselves into the light. Actually finding any copies of their two legendary chugging blues-rock albums might be stupidly impossible, but at least you can see them play on December 5th at the Old Blue Last in London. If you want to chew your hands off and crack your face at the feet of a man called Top Dollar who growls horny death like Beefheart gnawing lesions from Jeffrey Lee Pierce’s back, then come.
Occulty folk-noise society (not "New Weird America"—that shit's for bindi-wearing, cross-dressing pussies) Caroliner has been around so long their claims of being actually from the 1800s might seem plausible if it weren't for all the carved foam costumes and fluorescent-painted cardboard. When they play live, which is a rare phenomenon, they cover their entire stage in what looks like totem pole hieroglyphs and references to a personal history, a secret language along the lines of the cryptic communication methods you invented with your junior high BFF just in case Mrs. Hyde confiscated your spiral full of notes and found out who fingered you at the movies the other night. Their records look like hobo arts and crafts projects cobbled together from scraps of thoughts found on a freight train, paintings of clown auras, and their trademark chicken scratch drawings. We asked them to please explain what it was all about.
If you're planning on spending any time outside this weekend, may we suggest a free and heated event where you can pick up back issues of Vice? It's Expozine, it's happening all weekend, and here's a map for you. Drawn & Quarterly's going to be there, so's Nadia Moss, so's Guy Deslisle, plus about another 250 million artists and writers and small presses and zine people. It should be a fun, sweaty event full of people who like drawing and reading. So, get outside briefly, then go right back inside, grab yourself a stack of back issues, then shuffle back outside, then scurry back inside, etc, ad nauseam.
In 2005, Sandi Thom began her famous 'online webcasts', which attracted millions of ordinary people to her music and eventually scored her a UK number one hit. The fans who came and left messages such as 'great tunes. really sweet', and 'your voice is reeeelly solful' were touched by her music. Sure. But they were also touched by marketing. Specifically, by her now-legendary online promotions company, Quite Great PR. And every day, marketing reaches out into our lives and gives us messages about ourselves and our world. Messages like: I should be this person. I should do that thing. I should dream this dream.
Sandi wished she was a punk rocker. I wished I was a marketing consultant. Horses for courses. The difference being that my dream has since come true and I'm on 30k a year, whereas she's probably back to waitressing at the Harvester.
The other morning, after a night of DJing a child actor's bar mitzvah, which my drunk friends crashed, and then passing along to one another our various viruses playing spin the bottle at a bar, we all headed to breakfast, where we sat next to a woman named Janet. Janet was wearing an amulet necklace for protection--it was the second one she'd burned through in a week. She frantically handed all eight of us little pieces of paper and mysteriously told us to each draw a tree.
Clarence Stately-Holmes is the alias I used to use for my (slightly embarrassing but very fun to write) Grimewatch column in Vice where I would write about stuff like Jammer's imaginary line of night-wear for kids, Py-Jammers.
Yesterday I decided to Google the name and found that as well as an a
emo teen from New Zealand using it as his screen name on Bebo, by
strange coincidence, there is a real-life guy called Clarence Stately.
He is a US soldier who has been stationed in Iraq, he seems to love
Halo 3 and Silent Hill and we are now best mates on Facebook. He is
currently back at home but has promised he will send me a regular war
diary the next time he heads out for a stint in Iraq.
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