Twitter calls its unmediated stream of all the millions of tweets “the firehose”, and my new page at the stupidly named but engaging and useful RebelMouse fits that description with its dynamic, auto-updating page of interesting stuff culled from posts at my two blogs and on the aforementioned Twitter. It’s still in beta and I don’t even do Instagram or the other networks it can link to but there’s already a veritable torrent of links, images and revivals of old posts there. Stand still and cover your vitals or you might do yourself an injury.
Normal nonsense will be resumed shortly, and if you’re on the front page you can scroll down to see the newest posts as normal. In common with most bloggers I do this in my free time with no great expectations because I enjoy it and because I relish the knowledge that thousands of people share my interest in the things that I post, and probably also because I’m a bit of an attention whore. As many of you probably do, I use an ad blocker and I tend to switch right off when people try to sell me stuff or talk to me about my responsibilities, so I understand that some of you might not want to hear this little lecture from me.
Also in common with most bloggers I have to make a living and I rarely make any money from blogging, although in my case one of my day jobs is also writing so sometimes I do get paid tiny amounts for blogging elsewhere. But the fact remains that there’s no such thing as free; everything you get on the internet cost somebody something, at some time. I know very well from the last hellish eighteen months I’ve just battled through that times are hard, but hard times for most of us make it more important– not less– that we should all try to support people whose work we like, whether it’s paying for a download or CD of a band we like, donating to the programmer of the app we use all the time, helping out with somebody’s Kickstarter project, or– yes– by purchasing a book by a writer whose work we appreciate.
Know what I mean?
Career Suicide is my memoir of working as an artist and film maker for most of my adult life, while experiencing almost every misfortune except popularity. I’ve been told it’s funny, a good read and it contains valuable insights on the art world’s foibles and failings. And slightly less valuable insights into my own. My adventures in gonzo art criticism continue at my other blog, of the same name.
Uncanny Valley collects my published short stories from various anthologies and magazines circa 1996-2006: among other things, a magic talking dog castrates the Estuary Gaffer Tape Rapist with his teeth, a robot maid trades housework for sabotage, and the last living intellectual escapes from his cage at the zoo and goes on a rampage of contemplation…
They’re not expensive, they’re professionally designed and copy edited so they look a hundred times better than your average self published bunch of shit, and they’re available in various print and electronic formats. Even the Apple Store, although they had a bit of a wobble at first because they interpreted mention of a rapist getting his nuts bitten off as “erotica.” Really, Apple? Really? This blog isn’t stopping, I’m not on strike, the books sell OK already and I’ll still love you even if you don’t buy something after I’ve blatantly whored myself out like this.
But please do buy something, if you can afford it, and do the same for other people whose work you regularly enjoy and follow. Me love you long time if you do.
Hello. I was just wondering if you have an early 21st century Japanese magazine named after you? No? How unfortunate. How frightfully dreary your life must be.
I’m pretty sure it’s defunct now. It was a sort of middle aged executive menswear magazine; dressing like Pierce Brosnan is among the suggestions in this copy. There’s also a worringly fulsome appreciation of The Duke of Windsor, fraternising with Nazis and all.
PS: I was once stopped on the street in Harajuku by some kind of Tokyo fashionista and told that I had “mature Europe style”. Er… thanks?
A hard-hitting, honest depiction of normal everyday life in Japan, to wit a marriage between a human-sized plastic doll and a hairy-chested doppelgänger of the usual turquoise Mushuda bear, here reduced to an impotent voyeur. Apparently this PVC bride’s dowry consists of an anti-moth product for ladies [sic] called Kaori (“perfumed”), which is also a common Japanese feminine name. Try not to get any Japanese women you meet with that name mixed up with the insecticide product because they certainly won’t thank you for trying to put them in your closet to repel moths.
(Sequel to yesterday’s Mushuda anti-moth SWAT team raid).
And… this. I don’t even know what this is or why it exists, but it does. Nice that she’s still seeing her friends and having a plastic girls’ night in even after her recent nuptials with the bear.
It’s like a Samuel Beckett play with animal costumes. Transcript:
<ムシューダ ムシューダ ムシューダ ムシューダ ムシューダ ムシューダ ムシューダ ムシューダ…>
ムシューダ. ムシューダ– ムシューダ.
ム シ ューダー
防虫の季節です (Bou chu no kisetsu desu / “It’s the season for bugs”)
Mushuda is (perhaps unsurprisingly) headline news in Japan’s English-language publication of record for Mushuda related issues, the Daily Mushuda Journal.
PPS: More Mushuda in Mushuda II: Miscegenation.
I’d forgotten that around the turn of the 21st century somebody at Sony seriously posited these barely functional, limping, chirping real world-embodied Tamagochis as a high-end pet. Sony stopped making them in 2006. I last looked at these images on my hard drive in 2002.
If anyone can transform the drinking of fruit and vegetable juice from a quotidian activity into a disturbing maelstrom of sexual confusion, the Japanese can. And they will. And they have. Behold the Japanese ad campaign featuring an apparently sane woman who is none the less inexplicably having a slightly angsty sexual relationship with a man made from vegetables. Or she’s not sane at all and we’re witnessing a severe form of schizophrenia. In either case, somebody took the brand name I Love Vegi a little bit too literally. You can love vegetables without making love to vegetables, OK?
女性「あなたなんて好きにならなければよかった」Woman: It’s weird that I fell in love with you, but I’m glad.
ベジ「それは、僕が野菜だからかい？」Vegi: Is it because I’m a vegetable?
女性「あんなに・・・嫌いだったのに」You don’t… dislike me that much, do you?
ベジ「そういうものみたいだよ、恋愛って」Vegi: It’s like, this love thing, what is it?
女性「ねぇ、ベジ」Woman: Hey, Vegi.
女性「もし、もしもよ、私たちに子どもができたらさぁ・・・」Woman: I wonder, I wonder if we had children…
女性「人間かなぁ・・・野菜かなぁ」Woman: Would they be humans… or vegetables?