Instead of sitting around your computer eating slices of rice cheese while staring at Youtube sensation after Youtube sensation, why not get out and enjoy a small breath of fresh air before slumping into a dungeon of a movie theater? There’s this hot new gay film called T4: Salvation that’ll drain your endorphin storage faster than doing a bump while jumping off the high dive with your dick in your hand, and you should totally check it out. Our guy Matt Kessler went to see a private viewing and gave us the scoop.
Telling you to suspend your distracted mind on a glorious day like today, after weeks of rain and chill (you're in New York, the center of the universe, right?), is like telling a five-year-old to do our taxes. So we're just going to give you a three-minute lozenge of meditation, a chloroplast-covered, dakini-inspired Atlantis transposed over the globulous huzz of Psychic Ills' "Eyes Closed." Our friend Harrison Owen just made it and we think it'll get you nice and centered before you tear off into the wilds of No Fun Fest--or whatever else you're doing this weekend.
Yes, we have just berated people in the general sense for not reading, and now we're gonna say, "Hey, watch this," the exact opposite of what's turned out to be Friday's don't-be-a-fucking-idiot series of PSAs. Hey, watch this. It's a series of videos called "Sentenced to Life" from our wanderer pal Mark Treise, aka Jealousy, aka boyfriend to Liza Thorn of Bridez. Please excuse the dead-ringer likeness shared with the guy from back of that Christmas album and the straggler Dead or Alive fan/1960s Barbie collector on Benadryl vibes... He's a good guy, and his new karaoke hellhole videos are good for a little sip from the cuckoo rave before you really go hit it. (Shit, what am I saying? I just guzzled rum and watched these videos, and it's too nice out to type.) PS: he's playing at San Francisco's Live Art Gallery tonight.
Here's some of Jared Whitham's brain gutted and exposed. It's basically a bowlful of spaghetti meant to freak kids out posing as real brains at a Halloween party and also a preview of what you might see if you turn on your TV to channel 6, 26, 32 or 35 any time between now and June.
Damn, don't you wish you and your fucked-up friends weren't ruined by self-importance bred from the internet lifestyle, and you could all chill your asses out about being so "busy" with your own "projects" so you could all make a proper film goddammit? Watching stuff like Whatever Happened to Susan Jane, in which a housewife gets fed up with her aprons and casseroles and heads for the chicks-with-dicks freaky glitter scene in San Francisco where everyone says ridiculous overdramatic shit and gets away with it makes us yearn with a hunger deeper than the pit of an exiled hyena's stomach on its deathbed to be saved from the shackles of schedules and hi-res screens. It was shot in the early-1980s, that time period when everyone looked amazing and caught STDs from garbage cans and never know or cared, they just died. Click below for some snips.
Remember how we told you James Hetfield gave Acrassicauda one of those guitars that looks like either you're really serious about metal or else you're really serious about playing metal in your bedroom, depending on the rest of whatever else you've got going on? Video of it ended up somewhere in the black hole of Metallica.com and it's so cute we all simultaneously went "Aww" when we watched it. Seriously, it sounded like we were having a baby shower in here. So even though all this month we've been focusing on stories to make you bawl an ocean of teardrops, we're showing you now (well, not right now—go click down there on that extra black word and then you'll get there) that yes, there are happy endings in this world.
Events combining art and gender issues make uszzzzzzzzzz...wait, huh, what? Sorry, fell asleep there for a second. But seriously, don't even put those two words in the same sentence unless you're trying to make us snore or unless you're Monkeytown tonight, where there's a scrumptious buffet of video and performance by a zillion smart queers. Preview some of it by clicking below.
A surreal film made on a shoelace budget, shot on a rooftop in Bushwick with a bunch of powdered-faced art students, and edited to look like old timey silent film where the plot line is written on a flickering slate in between scenes, running along to a soundtrack that sounds like it was recorded off a Victrola but was probably made using some filter of Garage Band sounds like a recipe for a shitbrick of pretentiousness. But that's what's going on in these clips of Patrick Cleandenim's The Scurimobile and oddly, it kind of works. We think. But we don't know why. Feeling totally confused and not being able to really form a clear opinion is refreshingly exotic. We watched these all the way through a few times and still couldn't tell how we feel; we just know they're kind of intriguing. So here you go.
Who hasn't dreamed of drenching their friends in blood, coming up with some wholly ridiculous plot line, and shooting it with a camcorder in their parents' house? Alex Chandon is the king of that "Oh hey mom, we're just going to borrow your bedroom for a minute and mess it up a little for this film I'm making—do not come in" thing, which has resulted in a handful of schlocky splatter films. Or actually he was the king of it in the 90s—he's a gone a little more highbrow since Cradle of Filth—but he's still pretty great. You'll find an interview with him below, as well as two more trailers to a couple of his films from the early 90s, one of which features guys from the Apostles. (Hint: it's the one featuring AIDS mutants getting drilled in the face.)
Heyo! Semen Sperms finally has a new blog finally. And he imported the mind-dazzlingly long list of interests from his MySpace page. And he put up this awesome punk documentary that we've never seen and is the perfect antidote to all the violence and anarchy and dick smashing on the blog today (wait, what?). And it also contains the probably first and possibly ever instance of a black man comparing Johnny Rotten to the Beatles in the history of race. Anyways, hopefully you'll enjoy this little chestnut, although if it's too high-brow for you, there's always the trailer to Beloved Son of God.
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