Very, very, very strange things were afoot in Australia's capital city this weekend. Allow us to set the scene... A few weeks ago, we saw photos of a blood stained pillar on the top of a hill overlooking Parliament House and heard associated rumours of satanic rituals and animal sacrifices being performed by members of what is apparently a large Wiccan population there. It turns out that national Christian organisation, Catch the Fire Ministries, heard about it also and took this as further evidence to support their belief that Satan is at work in and around our policy-determining hub. In order to combat this evil, they organised a mass "prayer offensive" at the site with the triple-barreled intention of 1. reversing any spells cast by the witches, 2. hopefully changing politicians minds about things they disagree with such as abortion and gay people and 3. sending out good vibes to ensure a bushfire-victim free summer. Really, what on earth could go wrong?
Tonight and tomorrow at Santos the O.T.O.'s throwing a festival of experimental musicks by practicing magickians, the first one of its kind. No one on the bill is a member of the O.T.O. though, so this isn't some kind of recruiting gimmick--you really think they'd do that? No, it was put together in a more general way to explore the impact of Thelemic culture on music and art, and maybe to make sure no one mispronounces Crowley's name again, thanks to Ozzy Osbourne. Tonight's performers at the Musicka Mystica Maxima (check out the site--it's just as cryptic and bare-bones as you'd think it would be) are Genesis P-Orridge & Thee Majesty, Amber Asylum, Arrington de Dionyso, Larkin Grimm, and Nautical Almanac.
Between each set there'll also be live ritual action performances including an invocation from Crowley's Gnostic Mass and Crowley's "Hymn To Pan," which is totally worth going to alone, especially if you're into veils and swords and salt.
Throughout the 40-minute ceremony at the Silent Movie Theater recreating a mass by the Process Church of the Final Judgment, people wearing dark robes (of course!) and carrying lit candles (no doubt!) spend time extolling the virtues of both Christ and Satan (“May the water give me life, Jesus Christ; Purify me with fire, Satan”) when they’re not singing Jefferson Airplane-like songs played by a four-piece band of hippies.
The Tate Modern owns the archives of Genesis Breyer P-Orridge’s work, but through October 18 Invisible-Exports is showing works of theirs no one’s seen, unless you’ve been privileged enough to visit their home. I’m using plural pandrogynous pronouns here not because I have no grasp of grammar but for reasons you really should know by now. Genesis has been around for decades, pulling off acts of magick and art as everyday life in a couple little bands you’ve probably never heard of called Throbbing Gristle and Psychic TV, several visual art shows, and an experiment of love that began in the 90s with partner Lady Jaye in which the two collaborated on fusing into a single elective identity through a series of plastic surgeries, hormone therapy, and altered behavior. I could go on and on about it but you can just watch this episode of Soft Focus if you want to know more.
Japan is the place where ridiculous things are easily accepted by everyone. For instance, this ancient penis-worship shrine built out of grave stones. No one knows exactly when it was made, but it clearly came before 1364 since there was a book written about it in that year. We do, however, know it was made "for couples hoping to have the healthy children," which is a great thing to support with our tax money.
The wizardrock scene in the States is a-OK with bands like Harry and the Potters, Draco and the Malfoys, and the Cedric Diggorys. Recently there was a big wizardrock concert in Stockholm that was part of Expecto Patronum 2009 (a Harry Potter convention), and I was expecting the same caliber of talent from Swedish bands. But I was off by a long shot. A LOOOOONG shot.
I’m all up for stoicism. Moaning little self-involved bitches make me feel ill. My granddad fought in a tank in a desert and saw his matey get eviscerated, then spent six months in a prisoner of war camp, and he wasn’t a little moaning bitch about it. Still though, once being stoic turns into a t-shirt that says, “My Husband Died of Cancer, and All I Got Was This Shitty Shirt,” you’ve officially gone too far and strayed into psychosis. You’ve also joined this company’s target audience.
Meet Rambo. He's also nicknamed Sodom, most probably because he looks a lot like Tom Angelripper from the German thrash band Sodom, but slimmer. Rambo is well known in the Basque Country’s squat scene, he plays bass in grindcore band Iron Batasuna, and has a fondness for something we could place freely between scatophilia, social activism, and… art? When having the urge to empty his bowels, he doesn’t hesitate to do so in the nearest outdoor locale, be it idyllic green forest or the entrance rug to the mansion of a local bigwig. It's his "thing."
If you’re a young, modern Iranian chick with ambitions beyond cooking and cleaning or protesting for the rest of forever (or until you go to jail or die on the street while someone records your last breath with a cell phone and become a martyr), you might want to consider, contradictory as it seems, an arranged marriage. Marrying a man you’ve never met in a faraway country is actually pretty common for defectors in Iran looking for a way out of the country. It’s one of few ways to leave without being considered a traitor. But watch out for those older Iranian men who have left for countries that aren’t plagued by constant feuds and oppressive religious mullahs, because they’re using arranged marriages as a way to import hot young wives for them to boss around.
Our Berlin office makes their interns go through hell even before they’re actually allowed to start working at the office--just so when they do, they will appreciate the honor of delivering coffee to their desks because they will know what humiliation really looks like. These tasks turn them into better people. Sani was the first applicant who didn’t chicken out like a prissy, shy little princess girl when we asked her to perform (and document) a ritualistic cleansing of someone else's body cavities to demonstrate she really wants this job.
Recent Comments