girlontape

any time is fine, just as long as you'll be mine

2012-02-01T13:06:00.001+01:00

i'm the top dog in this bed... i think...

2012-01-31T12:21:00.001+01:00

en esta cama la que manda soy yo... creo...

when i was a child i knew...

2012-01-31T12:14:00.000+01:00

As a kid I used to say: "When I grow up, I want to be...."
1. a painter
2. a writer
3. a dancer

Now I say: "In the next life, I want to come back as..."
1. a detective
2. a doctor without borders
3. a DJ! Like this:

art is a time machine

2012-01-27T15:30:00.000+01:00

John Singer Sargent with his Portrait of Madame X, Paris 1885, photographer unknown

Some works of art enter through the eye into the mind and heart, and stay there forever. For example, John Singer Sargent's paintings. It's been years since I last looked at them in New York, and no matter: they communicate an indelible living world, in which his sitters from another century continue to breathe and give off their own special light.

La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliers laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles, Baudelaire wrote in 1857 of the interconnectedness of human experience across space and time; a truth everyone may glimpse to varying degrees, according to their individual sensibility, but which only a work of art, like Keats' Grecian Urn, can clearly spell out for us, in a way that we can all understand. The urn is a time machine from Mediterranean Antiquity, held inside another time machine, the English Romantic poem of 1819.

In 1617, Marc-Antoine Girard de Saint-Amant gazed at certain trees and wrote a poem called La Solitude. Katherine Phillips translated it into English in 1664, Henry Purcell put it to music in 1684, and the countertenor Andreas Scholl, like me a huge Purcell fan, sings it to us in the 21st century.

Every time I listen to this song I think: "That's true...when I look at trees I feel the same way. How precious they are - how mysterious and life giving and perfect! I could lose myself in them - surely only a divinity could design such marvelous entities...?"

What content is mine
To see these trees, which have appear'd
From the nativity of time,

And which all ages have rever'd,
To look today as fresh and green
As when their beauties first were seen.

So Sargent's sitters, upper class 19th century women and men in their stuffy, complicated corsets and customs, whose particular private experiences were light years away from my own, nevertheless appear to me intelligible and graspable: I can relate to them, because his brushstrokes, just as the notes of Vinteuil's petite phrase - itself one of many time machines within the meta time machine of Proust's novel - did for Swann, pluck something of the living essence of their psyche and ferry it to us, whole and intact, all the way across the constant streaming of space and time.

Those who have stuck with me across the galaxies know that, whereas I once used to spend most of my time taking pictures and dancing, I now practically live in the fields with my dogs. Which is where, just yesterday, I saw a woman communing with a tree. She was alone - no dog or human companion. She was leaning into the trunk, and yes, kissing it. Does she know Purcell's song? I wondered, feeling a tiny thrill...

my pictures are still in BA... even if I'm not

2012-01-25T12:01:00.000+01:00

groundbreaking DJ Carla Tintore at the legendary Cocoliche... be there or be square

I heard it on the facevine

2012-01-19T10:35:00.000+01:00

Alexandra: Feed a spirit, starve an ego.

Laura: I own a miniature model of the Costa Concordia – why?!

Laura’s friend: Tilt it, it’ll look more realistic.

Rob: Our relationship was like a Lou Reed song. Waves ofFear, or The Heroine.

An Argie health minister: She’s an 11-year-old rape victim,and she wants an abortion? Niet! Nature is wise…if she ovulated, she can handle a pregnancy.

Liz:If I don’t think he’ll be good enough for me in the future, why do I think he’sgood enough for me now?

Cameron:███ ██████ ██████ ████████ ██ ████ ██ ████ █████████  This status update has been found in violation ofH.R. 3261, S.O.P.A and has been removed.

Stef: Attempted pick-up by crashing bore at the club where I work: "I'd really love to know what's inside that head of yours... I'm sure there's something."

Jesse: Curiouser and curiouser…

i'll be your mirror

2012-01-14T19:45:00.000+01:00

please, don't come any closer... my fantasy of you is so much more than you'll ever be...

what is a hero?

2012-01-08T13:05:00.000+01:00

from moveon.org

jeff koons, yoko ono, christopher steadman @ cheim & reid

2012-01-05T09:28:00.000+01:00

joe frazier rip

2012-01-03T11:18:00.000+01:00

And now, a few words about boxing. I used to look down on it as nothing but a blood sport, a matter of brutish, brainless men, bashing it out before shady audiences of equally brainless, possibly mafioso punters.

“Boxing is an art form,” my first boss, Lucio Manisco, told me when I was in my early 20s. Lucio was the chief correspondent for an Italian TV network in New York, and I worshiped him, for he was a true maverick reporter, in the way that Clarence Darrow was a maverick lawyer. A passionate defender of human rights, he did things like regularly interrupting his live news feeds with anti-Desert Storm rants.

But much as I tried to understand his admiration of boxing, I couldn’t get beyond my repugnance, and while I loved films like Rocky, Raging Bull, and Million Dollar Baby, I favored the characters over the fight sequences.

Until I saw Tatanka. Based on the real life story of Olympic medalist Clemente Russo, as told by anti-mafia crusading journalist Roberto Saviano, it’s about how a boy from the wrong side of the tracks redeems himself from a life of crime through boxing. It’s not a great film, but for some reason, it made me understand what Lucio had said all those years ago.

I saw how all the true champions – Muhammad Ali, Joe Frazier, Jake La Motta, Rocky Marciano, Sugar Ray Robinson – were great because they represented something greater than themselves. And how at its best, boxing is not just about a contest of brute strength, but also of heart and courage and passion and integrity.

So here’s to you, Smokin’ Joe. I think this fight is something to behold.

if you only had three days to live... where would you go, who would you see?

2011-12-30T12:21:00.001+01:00

Maxi Aubert @ Cocktails & Bars Vol.2 by Maxi Aubert

christopher does seattle

2011-12-21T10:47:00.001+01:00

spotlight on Christopher Steadman @ artconnectberlin

Video artist Christopher Steadman has just been selected for a show curated by Video Art pioneer, Gary Hill, at Seattle's Center on Contemporary Art.

Tell us about sounds and objects you work with?

The sounds I use are all recorded at the time of shooting. Sometimes I create the soundscape before the video. The sound for all my work, especially the more recent pieces, is as important as the visuals. Mostly they work in harmony. As far as objects, I don’t think there is anything I wouldn’t use in a piece as long as it makes sense in context. I’ve used a cup of tea, rubber gloves, an elevator… When I shoot on location it becomes as much about the setting as it does about any subject material or theme.

Photo From 3-Channel Video Loops Installation "Micro Chaos". Photo: Christopher Steadman

read the rest of this interview with Video artist christopher steadman on artconnectberlin

this is the time the very best time

2011-12-11T15:14:00.001+01:00

LCD Sound System Mini Mix by 2Clapps

how deep is your love?

2011-12-09T14:33:00.004+01:00

The Rapture - How Deep Is Your Love (Dimitri From Paris Erodiscomix) by dfp

december dogs & fields

2011-12-09T10:50:00.000+01:00

plaidness falls

2011-12-07T10:14:00.000+01:00

of dogs and men

2011-12-03T20:15:00.002+01:00

Laika: When people show you who they are, believe them.

Stef: Did you just make that up?

Laika: It's Maya Angelou, silly.

Stef: Oh - right. But, the thing is... I Love Him!

Laika: Well he doesn't love you, he only loves what you give him.

Stef: Source?

Laika: Mina, of course.

Stef: Damn, girl. You're a regular treasure trove of quotations.

Laika: I can do it in Italian too, watch. Per lui non conta quello che sei, ma soltanto cosa gli daaaaiiii....

Stef: OK I get it - I get it! ***snif***

Laika: Maledetto il sesso, che picchia così forteeeee....

Stef: For god's sake shut up before my head explodes!

Laika: The road to sex is paved with good intentions.

Stef: Who said that??

Laika: You did. Remember? Way back in '86... you were standing in the kitchen at a party in Allston and suddenly, it came to you. And Joey was standing right there with you and he laughed.

Stef: Joey...Joey! What a monster he turned out to be.

Laika: Don't they all. Wanna go for a walk? I'm sure it'll make you feel better!

Stef: I'm beat...whatever you say.

it's the singer not the song (julian schnabel)

2011-12-01T11:54:00.000+01:00

girl listens to lil louis

2011-11-25T12:13:00.000+01:00

Li'l Louis - French Kiss

the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation...thankfully i'm not one of them

2011-11-17T18:32:00.001+01:00

self-portrait by kat ziegler

if life is more elastic, more starry, more immortal... (thoreau)

2011-11-17T10:41:00.002+01:00

self-portraits by kathrin ziegler

trying to make sense of it all...

2011-11-10T08:08:00.001+01:00

stef & laika listen to la sora cesira

what a difference a year made

2011-11-09T17:06:00.000+01:00

november 2010: girlontape celebrates ruby, the moroccan mata hari.
we all thought for sure this was the stake that would drive through the vampire's heart once and for all... but no, it survived.

november 2011: girlontape celebrates la fin du régime.
but it's a bittersweet feeling, because now the cayman and his cohorts are done plundering our once thriving, ravishing country, there's really not much left to do except follow the rest of the brain drain outta here.

OK, Jeremy

2011-11-07T21:42:00.001+01:00

"We need to use the social media to create a new economy and a new society for the world. That’s your job. That’s the mission of the blogs all over the world. I would say spread the narrative – spread the story. October 15 is an example."

from Jeremy Rifkin's interview with the web observer after his speech at Rome's Teatro Valle, which opened in 1727, and which has been occupied by artists since June 14

the Teatro Valle float at Occupy Rome, Oct. 15

"The locus of control over energy production and distribution is beginning to tilt from giant fossil fuel based centralized energy companies to millions of small producers, who are generating their own renewable energies in their dwellings and trading surpluses in info-energy commons.

The new era will bring with it a reorganization of power relationships across every level of society.

While the fossil fuel-based First and Second Industrial Revolutions scaled vertically and favored centralized, top-down organizational structures operating in markets, the Third Industrial Revolution is organized nodally, scales laterally, and favors distributed and collaborative business practices that work most effectively in networks.

The "democratization of energy" has profound implications for how we orchestrate the entirety of human life in the coming century. We are entering the era of "Distributed Capitalism."

The adversarial relationship between sellers and buyers is replaced by a collaborative relationship between suppliers and users. Self-interest is subsumed by shared interest.

The new focus on transparency over secrecy is based on the premise that adding value to the network doesn't depreciate ones own stock, but, rather, appreciates everyone's holdings as equal nodes in a common endeavor."

Excerpt from Rifkin's latest book, The Third Industrial Revolution, reproduced from The Huffington Post

Occupy Rome, Oct. 15

november

2011-11-07T09:48:00.000+01:00

girl loves photographers

2011-10-31T07:14:00.000+01:00

The Black Hat 65,5 x 97,3 cm Remake of The Black Hat, Gustav Klimt - 1910
from the series The Essence of Decadence by Tania Brassesco and Lazio Passi Norberto

an oldie but goodie

2011-10-29T11:11:00.000+02:00

laika & stef listen to diego ro-k

2011-10-26T16:09:00.002+02:00

DIEGO RO-K SWEAT V by diego ro-k

brilliant agitprop from my beloved former galaxy:

2011-10-26T09:21:00.001+02:00

october

2011-10-26T09:12:00.000+02:00

valentina victrix

2011-10-11T21:49:00.002+02:00

Ever since writing my screenplay about Caterina Sforza, the 15th century warrior countess who was admired by poets, soldiers, kings and Machiavelli himself, I've found images of sword-wielding women compelling.

This is a picture of fencing gold medalist Valentina Vezzali, who just won her sixth world championship in Catania, Italy.

We love Valentina because she shows us of an aspect of fierce womanhood we don't see enough of - and because she loves dogs: last summer she appeared in a PSA urging people not to abandon their pets during the holidays.

the laika archives

2011-09-29T12:37:00.000+02:00

la lista di ieri

2011-09-21T14:43:00.002+02:00

ottenuto un 50mm e delle ciglia finte
firmato per il referendum anti-porcellum (da quelli dell'IdV)
presenziato ennesima rissa al san calisto (ma ci tocca tornare perché, dove altro lo troviamo un bloody mary a 3,50? molto buffe le analisi post rissa dei faux intellettuali ai tavolini accanto; roma fai cascare le braccia ma ti voglio bene uguale...)

la lista di domani

andare a trovare quelli del teatro valle
non cadere mai nel conformismo mai
rivedere tutte le puntate della nuova squadra spaccanapoli
e anche tutti i film del mio nuovo idolo: riccardo scamarcio

girl & cramps

2011-09-20T09:41:00.000+02:00

selfwebcam in blue

2011-09-18T11:20:00.000+02:00

selfwebcam with german's necklace

2011-09-17T10:25:00.000+02:00

well it happened years ago

2011-09-16T11:24:00.000+02:00

finally, twenty years later, girlontape finds out he always liked her too
so she falls in love with this song all over again
it's from 1992
back when she liked this boy & he liked her
& neither one did anything about it & it goes:

I want to take you home
I want to give you children
You might be my girlfriend
Yeah yeah yeah yeah

tam tam

2011-09-16T09:33:00.002+02:00

A rendere pubblici questi dati sono stati i Radicali che da tempo svolgono una campagna di trasparenza denominata Parlamento WikiLeaks.

Per la prima volta viene tolto il segreto su quanto costa ai contribuenti l'assistenza sanitaria integrativa dei deputati, erogata da un'assistenza privata finanziata da Montecitorio.

La Camera assicura un rimborso sanitario privato non solo ai 630 onorevoli, ma anche a 1109 loro familiari compresi (per volontà dell'ex presidente della Camera Pier Ferdinando Casini) i conviventi more uxorio.

Nel 2010, i deputati e i loro parenti hanno speso in tutto €10.117.000

spese odontoiatriche: €3.092.000

ricoveri e interventi in cliniche private: €3.000.000

fisioterapia: €976.000

visite varie: €698.000

occhiali: €488.000

psicoterapia: €257.000

vene varicose: €28.138

visite omeopatiche: €3.636

I deputati si sono anche fatti curare in strutture del servizio sanitario nazionale, chiedendo il rimborso all'assistenza integrativa del Parlamento per €153.000 di ticket.

Ma non tutti i numeri sull'assistenza sanitaria privata dei deputati sono stati desegretati.

"Abbiamo chiesto - dice la deputata Radicale Rita Bernardini - quanti e quali importi sono stati spesi per alcune prestazioni previste dal fondo di solidarietà sanitaria come ad esempio balneoterapia, shiatsuterapia, massaggio sportivo, elettroscultura e chirurgia plastica. Ma questi conti i Questori della Camera non ce li hanno voluti dare".

Secondo l'Espresso, recentemente il Parlamento ha votato all'UNANIMITA' e senza astenuti un aumento di stipendio per i parlamentari di 1.135 euro al mese.

La mozione è stata camuffata in modo tale da non risultare nei verbali ufficiali.

STIPENDIO €19.150 AL MESE

STIPENDIO BASE €9.980 al mese

STIPENDIO PORTABORSE €4.030 al mese (generalmente parente o familiare)

RIMBORSO SPESE AFFITTO €2.900 al mese

INDENNITA' DI CARICA da €335 - 6.455 TUTTI ESENTASSE

TELEFONO CELLULARE gratis

TESSERA DEL CINEMA gratis

TESSERA TEATRO gratis

TESSERA AUTOBUS - METROPOLITANA gratis

FRANCOBOLLI gratis

VIAGGI AEREO NAZIONALI gratis

CIRCOLAZIONE AUTOSTRADE gratis

PISCINE E PALESTRE gratis

FS gratis

AEREO DI STATO gratis

AMBASCIATE gratis

CLINICHE gratis

ASSICURAZIONE INFORTUNI gratis

ASSICURAZIONE MORTE gratis

AUTO BLU CON AUTISTA gratis

RISTORANTE gratis

Hanno diritto alla pensione dopo 35 mesi in parlamento mentre obbligano i cittadini a 35 anni di contributi (41 anni per il pubbico impiego)

Rimborso spese elettorali (in violazione alla legge sul finanziamento ai partiti): €103.000

La sola camera dei deputati costa al cittadino €2.215 al MINUTO

Si sta promuovendo un referendum per l' abolizione dei privilegi di tutti i parlamentari... queste informazioni possono essere lette solo attraverso Internet in quanto quasi tutti i massmedia rifiutano di portarle a conoscenza degli italiani... fate circolare.

adios maestro....

2011-09-11T10:23:00.003+02:00

raoul ruiz

1941-2011

please tell milo that i love him very much, he knows

2011-09-09T14:31:00.002+02:00

pictures are treacherous: sometimes they swim up at you from long-forgotten computer archives. this one is from a shoot in buenos aires; i was fiddling with the camera settings before doing maxine's portrait. i loved him so much i was afraid to take his picture: i thought once i started i'd never stop

the man is dead (peter gabriel)

2011-09-05T21:22:00.000+02:00

angelo vassallo
(sept.22.1953- sept.5.2010)
environmentalist, beloved mayor of Pollica, man after my own heart
re-elected for a fourth term in 2010 with 100% of votes
shot dead with nine bullets outside his home by the Camorra a year ago today
picture courtesy of lucianopignataro

i like girls who like dogs who like boys who like girls

2011-09-04T19:23:00.002+02:00

laika & stef listen to aeroplane

laika & stef listen to patti smith

laika & stef listen to mina

laika & stef listen to sonic youth

laika & stef listen to human sexual response

laika & stef listen to pulp

mina singing, 1978

2011-09-03T20:00:00.000+02:00

edgardo pisa fuerte... as usual. break a leg dear ed!

2011-08-31T12:41:00.000+02:00

6 September 11:00 - Sala Perla7 September 14:00 - Sala Pasinetti
ORIZZONTI
Nocturnos by Edgardo Cozarinsky - Argentina, 63'
language: Spanish - s/t English, Italian
Esteban Lamothe, Marta Lugos, Esmeralda Mitre, Jimena Anganuzzi

Director’s Statement
There are people of the day and people of the night… The night ones recognise each other. Their city is only theirs. While the others seek refuge in the dubious safety of home, they go out to confront themselves with that truth hidden by light and revealed by darkness.

ibiza la blanca la très douce...

2011-08-25T11:30:00.002+02:00

on Ibiza, girlontape learned that:

to a testosterone-driven 19-year-old, she still looks like she's 28 - who knew?
there are magical places where groovy people dance in the serious moonlight to ass-kicking DJs from France, Japan, and the UK, just a 90-min. easyjet flight away
Catalan taxi drivers have a great sense of humor
like the rest of her Mediterranean sisters, the island is enchanted; a fact best expressed by a little Italian boy on the beach: "See that big rock out in the bay? On the front it has goats, but behind it, there are pirates!"

my grandmother was a louise brooks fan, just like me

2011-08-14T20:10:00.001+02:00

No pictures have survived, but thanks to her History of Cinema class at Wellesley, in which she discovered pandora's box and was therefore struck with eternal louise fandom, girlontape took to wearing her hair just like this. She was 17, about the same age as her grandmother in this photo.

little shots of happiness

2011-08-11T14:39:00.002+02:00

Waking up not knowing where you are then remembering: He loves me – it’s true. I can’t wait to see him again…

Stepping out late at night with the dogs, realizing the shadowy creature nosing about in the grass is a fox - a messenger from a wild and secret world - and thinking: How beautiful you are – how marvelous! Run away little one… be safe…

Going into your favorite church in Rome one evening, and they're chanting in a long slow wailing melody, so ancient and filled with yearning; and you’re drawn up, up, up towards the delicately flying angels.

Snoopy writing It Was A Dark And Stormy Night.

You’re standing under a tree in the middle of the afternoon, and someone starts playing the piano in a house nearby: it flows out the window like a stream, clear and swirling, flashing and flowing; and that bird in the branches, those crickets in the grass, you yourself, are the pebbles over which it flows and you think, like Nikolay Rostov listening to Natasha’s song: Will the lovers be united… will good triumph over evil? What are they compared to this…? The only thing that matters is this music… oh it’s marvelous… what marvelous things human beings are capable of, after all… I wish it would never end…!

a tale of architects (post for Kat)

2011-08-10T13:42:00.000+02:00

Sunday, long night out with Brian. I go pick him up at his restaurant on Prince Street, where I get cornered by an aging bald architect friend of a friend. He bores me to death while trying to touch me every chance he gets. Gross. I’m about to throw my beer in his face when Brian whisks me off to Lotus, where we squeeze into a booth with Patrice and his unpleasant Armani suit and his call girl entourage. He’s a wealthy Haitian who was probably a Tonton Macoute in his former life. He pours us champagne and tells me in his heavy French accent, “You are dangerous…give me your number before you leave.” Some gangster pal of his caresses my bare shoulders too many times. I tell him to back off so he complains to Patrice who scolds me along the lines of “This is my friend so-and-so.” I say that’s fine but he can’t touch me and Patrice gets visibly annoyed. Gross. Brian takes me to Bungalow 8 his members only club where he introduces me to James, a colorless version of another boy I still miss in spite of his pathetically clumsy lies. He gives me some of his low rent blow then invites me to his house. I say “I don’t need to get laid tonight” and he acts all scandalized and I tell him to stop being such a hypocrite. He asks for my number and I give it to him, no idea why.

Monday night, party at the Tribeca Grand. A weird mix of VIP lawyers, designers, hipster politicians, models, stockbrokers and a smattering of rock starlets. Nicollette introduces me to an architect friend of hers who says his boss Rem Koolhaas let him design the new Prada store. I find him zero attractive so I try to put him off with “I’m a Miu Miu girl” but he ends up hooking me with his conversation anyway. He invites me to Sway, where my favorite DJ, Baby Blu, is spinning. This makes me like him a little better so I accept. I’m pretty drunk and I immediately lose myself in the arms of a really hot lipstick lesbian and the architect goes nuts. He tries to break me off from my princess but there’s no way. He has no place left to go but out the door. However he calls Nicollette for my number and starts busting my balls. Finally I agree to let him take me out for the best sushi of the moment, which is at Blue Ribbon. Out of nowhere he asks if I want a boyfriend and tells me he’s looking for a relationship. Due to his silly questions I’m back to not liking him that much, but in the cab for mysterious reasons I kiss him & it turns me on. I agree to go to his apartment where he shows me his paintings, which are pretty damn good. Talent being an aphrodisiac, we end up in the sack. Once he has me pinned under his big heavy body he asks, “Aren’t you afraid of me? You’re very trusting.” I flash on my complicatedly murdered corpse starring in an episode of CSI New York. Get out now, before it’s too late? But no, by this time my brain has stopped functioning. He’s very good in bed. It’s a trap.

On Tuesday James calls, I barely remember him. He invites me for a drink at Balthazar. I agree for want of a better plan and besides, I love that place. James is sitting at the bar with his posse, all slaves at the same literary agency. They ask me stupid questions like “Are you an actress?” I am clearly the object of some hidden plot hatched in their sinister male minds but I don’t give a toss so I dig in to the oysters, which at Balthazar are amazing. “Harlan is on his way, he wants to see you,” says James casually, adding that he introduced us at Bungalow 8. It doesn’t ring a bell. A boy arrives & I'm still clueless, but he is utterly glam: wild black hair, very cool suit. Nick Cave from way back, minus the heroin. He turns out to be an architect. He sits next to me and the posse of agents drops off my radar. Then they disappear for real and Harlan loads me onto his huge shiny black BMW and takes me to Missy Elliott’s birthday party at Lot 61, where he plies me with his super deluxe cocaine. Now we’re talking. We make out passionately in every corner in between long heady discussions about everything under the sun. He asks for my number and I'm glad to give it up. He starts taking me out to fabulous events all over town. The nights we don’t see each other he calls me for long intimate bedtime chats. His strategy and everything about him, impeccable. I start to feel comfortable, wanted and happy. Another trap.

Thank god I gave my number to the chick from Sway. She’s no architect, but she does happen to be the perfect toy.

New York 2000

in ibiza i will flip my hair just like this

2011-08-07T13:50:00.001+02:00

self-portraits

punta del este self-portraits

2011-08-06T14:52:00.001+02:00

kat by stef

2011-08-04T23:34:00.000+02:00

stef by kat

2011-08-04T23:31:00.000+02:00

all the things he gave me... where do i hide them?? (waterboys)

2011-08-04T19:08:00.000+02:00

death to ladyboy

2011-08-02T16:29:00.001+02:00

here's a preview from KITCHEN FLOOR, the debut album of our band DEATH TO LADYBOY

track 1
Yesterday she cried on the kitchen floor
Today she asked would I be her boyfriend
It's a man's job but a woman's got to do it

track 2
I come alone & think of you
You come with her & think of me

Same same old same old story:

The hero always returns in act three

Saying I’m a good man, I just happened to act badly

Merciful lady, please forgive me

For tomorrow I marry

And I need you to think well of me

dedicated to Amy Winehouse
stay tuned
© death to ladyboy productions 2011

laika the shoe terminator

2011-08-02T13:36:00.000+02:00

we cheated ourselves, like we knew we would

2011-07-28T12:45:00.001+02:00

EXT. RANDOM BAR SOMEWHERE IN TRASTEVERE - NIGHT

KAT

(gazing sadly at her iphone)

Why isn't he calling?

STEF

Because he loves you, and the girl from last night, and the one he's meeting tomorrow...

KAT

But it was so good! He can't possibly feel the same way about anyone else.

STEF

I'm sure he's thinking of you in the final throes.

KAT

OMG! Look over there.

STEF

You mean the ladyboy?

KAT

Those hands... that skin...

STEF

That beard - yuck!

KAT

I want him.

STEF

Soon you'll be crying for him on the kitchen floor.

KAT

These Bloody Marys are so strong.

STEF

But not stronger that us.

KAT

I feel like Amy died when we were in the Pantheon.

STEF

While we were looking up at the sky through the circle in the ceiling -

KAT

And all the tourists disappeared.

STEF

I know. I felt it too.

color or b&w? that is the question

2011-07-25T15:47:00.001+02:00

he left no time to regret, kept his dick wet
with his same old safe bet
me and my head high and my tears dry
get on without my guy

amy

you know we're no good

2011-07-24T15:25:00.000+02:00

celebrating amy winehouse
pictures by kat ziegler

amores perros cap. 7

2011-07-23T01:00:00.001+02:00

laika & stef by kat

EXT. PARK DAY - Laika throws herself slavishly at the feet of a ridiculously handsome, tall, dark, blue-eyed stranger with a piercing.

STEF

Funny...usually she hates men.

STRANGER

Really? I think she's the perfect dog.

STEF

Do you have any tattoos?

Suddenly, our heroine feels that life has hit a different groove.

she can dance to my beat

2011-07-22T20:36:00.002+02:00

kat by stef

lucian freud... always an inspiration

2011-07-22T12:17:00.001+02:00

benefits supervisor sleeping, by lucian freud (1922-2011)

"My work is purely autobiographical. It is about myself and my surroundings. I work from people that interest me and that I care about, in rooms that I know."

the world's greatest film of the world's greatest novel

2011-07-20T10:14:00.005+02:00

Filmmaking is like war: it requires guts, teamwork, complex logistics, grueling physical labor, and fanatical dedication. They differ only in their end results... although some films, like Fitzcarraldo, have been known to exact the ultimate sacrifice.

As far as combat sequences on film, the only two who stayed with me were Apocalypse Now and the opening of Gladiator... until I saw Sergei Bondarchuk's 1968 version of War and Peace: seven years in the making, 120 000 extras, 35 000 costumes, no special FX or CGI bullshit... just glorious vision & talent on a mass scale. As far as I'm concerned, it blows Coppola and Ridley Scott right out of the water. What is this thing, which Tolstoy called the Russian soul? Something far greater than the sum of its parts.

detail from the Borodino Panorama by Franz Roubaud (1856-1928) - thank you wikicommons

"It was a vibrant scene, astonishing in its splendor, but what struck Pierre most forcibly was the battlefield itself, borodino. The ground was overhung by the kind of mist that seeps down and thins out to let the bright sun come shimmering through, revealing the landscape and painting it in magical colours. Gunsmoke wreathed its way in, and the intermingling smoke and mist was everywhere shot through with lightning-flashes of early morning sunlight glinting on water, dew and bayonets in the hands of soldiers swarming through Borodino.

Through the mist you could make things out: a white church here, there the roofs of shacks in Borodino, with fitful glimpses of great masses of men...and the whole scene was writhing, because of the mist and smoke drifting across the entire landscape. All across the misty hollows, from copse and meadow puffs of smoke curled up out of thin air, either singly or in clusters, sporadically or in big, rapid bursts, weaving together on high then swelling, billowing out, seeping away and merging together all over the landscape. It was this swirling gunsmoke, with the ensuing bangs, that gave the whole spectacle its special beauty."

"Prince Andrey's regiment was among the reserves. All his energy, like every soldier's, was instinctively concentrated on distracting himself from the horror of his situation. He paced the meadow, dragging his feet and rustling through the grass, and he watched the dust thickening on his boots.
'Look out!' yelled a terrified soldier as a grenade came over like a little bird zooming down with whirring wings on the look-out for a landing place, and plopped down with a dull thud a few paces away from Prince Andrey. The smoking shell was spinning like a top, near a clump of wormwood growing in the ditch between meadow and field.
'Is this death then?' Prince Andrey wondered, and he was swept with a new sense of longing as he gazed down at the grass, the wormwood and the spiral of smoke swirling up from the spinning ball. 'I can't die. I don't want to die. I love life. I love this grass, the earth, the air...'" tolstoy

give me one good reason

2011-07-12T15:58:00.001+02:00

sweat III - mixed & cured by diego ro-k

internauti contro la censura

2011-07-02T09:19:00.001+02:00

Non sarà una vigilia tranquilla per l'Agcom: sarà, piuttosto, "La Notte della Rete".

Il 5 luglio, a 24 ore dall'approvazione della Delibera definita "ammazza-Internet" dai blogger italiani, artisti, esponenti della rete, leader politici, cittadini e utenti del web si troveranno a Roma per una no-stop contro il provvedimento.

Martedì 5 luglio dalle 17.30 alle 21 alla Domus Talenti a Roma ( via delle Quattro Fontane, 113 ) partecipa anche tu alla nostra mobilitazione. Fai sentire la tua voce!

Fra i presenti già confermati:

Olivero Beha, Pippo Civati, Antonio Di Pietro, Dario Fo, Giovanbattista Frontera, Alessandro Gilioli, Peter Gomez, Beppe Giulietti, Flavio Granata, Giulia Innocenzi, Gianfranco Mascia, Roberto Natale, Flavia Perina, Marco Pierani, il Piotta, Enzo Raisi, Franca Rame, Fulvio Sarzana, Marco Scialdone, Guido Scorza, Mario Staderini, Vincenzo Vita, Vittorio Zambardino.

Come fare:

Conferma la tua adesione e invita tutti i tuoi amici a partecipare tramite Facebook, Twitter e tutti i social network a cui sei iscritto
Pubblica la notizia dell'evento de LA NOTTE DELLA RETE sul tuo blog e manda in onda la diretta in streaming dal sito de il fatto quotidiano
Firma la petizione all'Agcom all'indirizzo www.sitononraggiungibile.it e manda un messaggio ai membri dell'Agcom qui: http://www.avaaz.org/it/it_internet_bavaglio
Informati sugli ultimi sviluppi della mobilitazione e sugli altri modi per entrare in azione dal sito http://www.agoradigitale.org/nocensura

"Primo interesse di un autore dovrebbe essere quello della diffusione di massa del suo prodotto, non di recintarlo. Così come è interesse di tutti difendere il copyright e il lavoro creativo dalla pirateria alla luce delle nuove tecnologie. Ma questo non può essere fatto al di fuori da una normativa europea e sovranazionale.

Soprattutto non può essere accettata la censura. E gli autori dovrebbero essere in prima fila nel respingere qualsiasi tentativo di repressione della creatività. La delibera dell’Agcom prevede la possibilità che possa essere la stessa Agcom a inibire gli accessi ai siti e chiuderli...." (continua)

biennale styling

2011-07-01T22:59:00.000+02:00

kisa, by gary baseman

memorie selettive

2011-07-01T09:52:00.000+02:00

Conversazione via blog:

Uno qualunque: “Sai io e te ci conosciamo.”

Stef: “Ma và?”

“Si, ci siamo conosciuti al compleanno di Gastón.”

“Cioè eravamo nella fila del bagno e gentilmente mi hai fatto passare?”

“No no. Tu eri accanto al caminetto. Portavi una maglietta Joan Jett, e nella mano destra tenevi un bicchiere di vino. I tuoi capelli erano selvaggi. Io mangiavo delle noccioline…abbiamo parlato a lungo.”

“Ma dai. Al compleanno di Gastón ci vado tutti gli anni, e di te non ricordo assolutamente niente.”

Ho pensato: Che presuntuoso…muori groupie di merda!

E l’ho sputtanato sul blog, salvo che l’altro giorno è successa la stessa cosa, peró a me.

Stef: “Allora Tommaso... ti sei sbarazzato di quella pazza isterica?”

Tommaso: “Quale?”

“La stalker. Il giorno che ci siamo conosciuti non parlavi d’altro.”

“Oddio non riesco a fare mente locale.”

“Ma si. Sei venuto al bar, ci hai letto gli sms che quella ti mandava a raffica. Poi siamo andati un attimo a casa tua.”

“A casa mia??”

“Si, e poi siamo andati ai martedí critici. Pioveva, allora mi hai portato in macchina. Mi hai raccontato di tua figlia e mi hai regalato un libro di Epicuro…”

“Mi dispiace non ricordo assolutamente nulla.”

Ho pensato: Fortuna che Tommaso non ha un blog ma si dedica a cose serie tipo scrivere romanzi...speriamo che si dimentichi anche di questa conversazione peró!

kim does gun hill road

2011-06-30T01:00:00.000+02:00

Kim writes: I am writing to ask you to support gun hill road, an independent film on which I was privileged to have served as Script Supervisor.

It was written and directed by the very talented Rashad Ernesto Green and stars Judy Reyes (Scrubs) and Esai Morales (La Bamba, NYPD Blue, and more) as well as a host of other excellent actors.

It opens August 5, 2011 in NY and LA.

my bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music (violette leduc)

2011-06-28T21:46:00.000+02:00

mixed feelings

2011-06-28T17:44:00.000+02:00

self portrait in rome... 2011

ich bin ein new yorker

2011-06-25T21:18:00.000+02:00

actually, i've never stopped being a new yorker...
but today i'm most especially proud to be one

funny/cry/happy

2011-06-25T19:15:00.001+02:00

Strangely, I’m living in the most unhip location - city, neighborhood - in my adult life ever; equally strangely, I’m loving it.

Germán calls it our suburban Olympus because we’re up on a hill, from which we can see the dome of St. Peter’s floating out there in the distance. Also a bend in the river, a train station, various fields rolling away, and even an abandoned farmhouse.

Elinor Carucci says it’s hard to take a happy picture, to which I would add, it’s hard to take pictures once you’ve crossed beyond a certain threshold of unhappiness. Also when you have a day job. I love my job, but still.

I mentioned this to Germán the other day, and he said, As soon as Christian and I are done exploring Europe we’re moving to a farm in Norway, and when we do, you can come live there rent-free forever. You can just spend all your time taking pictures and playing with the dogs. And I so love it that I have a friend willing to make me such a promise,

meanwhile Laika has joined us here, reconstituting the same old borderline dysfunctional family as ever was, minus Milo, who’s still missing in Argentina, and whom we yearn for like an amputated limb: Charly commandeers Laika’s pink ball, Laika harasses the cats, the cats wish for her untimely death; and I marvel helplessly at them every day,

all of which reminds me of the Chinese 99 cent store sign on West 23rd Street, which is possibly the best New York sign ever, and which reads FUNNY/CRY/HAPPY.

j'entends rugir les plaisirs de la vie (negresses vertes)

2011-06-25T01:48:00.001+02:00

self-portrait at ekwata, gabon 1992

While I couldn’t find my iconic negresses vertes album, for whatever reason I still remember the moment I bought it in a record store in Kenmore Square in the middle of winter in another life a zillion years ago.

My favorite track on that album, of course, is their glorious gypsy-punk-rai hymn to summer, which perfectly describes the way that I’m feeling right here right now. It goes like:

Voilà l'été, j'aperçois le soleil

Les nuages filent et le ciel s'éclaircit

J'entends rugir les plaisirs de la vie

Les filles sont belles et les dieux sont ravis

she's totally rock n roll and i love her

2011-06-24T11:29:00.001+02:00

the one & only kate
by mario sorrenti
at danziger projects

to the rescue, here i am (bob marley)

2011-06-22T21:12:00.000+02:00

laika as i found her in buenos aires: small, homeless, sick

laika as she is today in rome

only a test shot but i like it

2011-06-19T18:18:00.001+02:00

girlFamily

2011-06-18T15:47:00.000+02:00

segue l'intervista con il pittore Antonio Fumo
ph: Stefania Fumo

the mystery of interspecies love

2011-06-14T01:29:00.002+02:00

The dog barks and barks. I go out to look for it, can’t find it. It’s trapped in some apartment nearby: the owner died, or left it there. It’s been going on all day & all night. No one cares.

The police bring a puppy to the shelter: its owner hanged herself. For hours the puppy tried & tried to jump up, trying to save her but it couldn’t.

There are terrible, terrible people in this world. Also incredibly careless, stupid people like me and it's hard to say which is worse. One way or another, the innocent always pay.

It's all true what they say: denial rage bargaining depression acceptance. They come in waves, mix & switch. It goes on & on.

Other symptoms: sleeping with the light on. Hauntings. Hate. Reading Sylvia Plath: “And the blood of love welled up in my heart with a slow pain.” Every picture I take is shit.

yes, yes, yes, yes we can

2011-06-13T18:43:00.009+02:00

When I was getting ready to move to Italy last year, my friends' common refrain was: "Are you sure you want to come back to this vile, degrading place?"

For everyone I know was completely demoralized after two decades of corrupt, soul-crushing rule by a man I call the vampire, Nanni Moretti calls the cayman, and José Saramago dubbed the thing.

"Look," I said. "I'm in the mood to do something for my country... just call me Steffy the Vampire Slayer... by any democratic means necessary."

"We've all been there, done that," my friends answered sadly. "And we can't get rid of him. You'll see."

And yet... two weeks ago, shocking themselves, each other, and the world, for the first time in over a decade, Italian voters kicked Berlusconi's minions out of Milan, Naples and other key cities.

And that's not all. This weekend, amid a media blackout, and with the government advising people to "just go to the beach," Italians turned out massively to abolish nuclear power, keep water public, and force the cayman to attend his trial hearings.

So things are no longer looking rosy for our prime minister, who is indicted in four separate trials for fraud, corruption and having sex with an underage prostitute.

But best of all, we the people discovered the vampire has not, after all, sucked us dry of our ethical lifeblood. We found out we're still human, still green, still democratic, still hopeful, still in charge.

The rallying cry for this weekend's referendum was "Vote YES To Say NO" to the four questions on the ballot... and yes, yes, yes, yes we did.

So thank you greenpeace - thank you wwf - thank you to all the grassroots organizations: left and right and center, lay and catholic, young and old, who worked around the clock for months and months to make today possible:

source: la repubblica

kisa does the biennale

2011-06-12T17:18:00.001+02:00

big bambú by mike and doug starn at the 54th venice biennale

kisa writes: "I ran into Mike Starn on the ferry to Arsenale and asked whether the bamboo scaffolding commonly used in Asia had inspired him. In fact he had discovered those much later, and his inspiration had come from rock climbing and the idea of chaotic interdependence.

The sculpture’s growth is intuitively engineered, based on the experience of weight and balance felt through each step of the evolutionary spiral, much like the building segments for microorganisms and macro human social structures. He considered the poles reused from the original Met Museum exhibit as ‘stem cells’ for further proliferation."

(con't on SPREAD art culture)

laika wants to kill my shoes

2011-06-12T01:12:00.001+02:00

Laika followed me into the Chinese deli one day. I turned around in the aisle and there she was, wagging her tail: seven months old and riddled with scabies.

I put my shopping basket down on the floor, picked her up and took her to the vet. And that's how Laika came into my life. She eventually killed these shoes, and many more... but always with a million-dollar smile.

The other day this journalist asked me, "How would you describe your life in Argentina?"
"I don't know," I said. "I came, I rescued some animals, I left."

girl loves people love photos

2011-06-11T13:51:00.002+02:00

thanks to sofia, i discovered this film about four women artists directed by christian klinger, called people*love*photos.

and so i found out that yes, there are other girls out there interested in the same things as i am: self-portraits, intimacy, other people.

"the body tells the mind what to remember"

traci matlock

christopher does london

2011-06-08T13:34:00.001+02:00

EAST GALLERY

214 Brick Lane, LONDON, E1 6SA

EAST GALLERY is pleased to present 11:11, an exhibition curated by Infinity Bunce and featuring artistic responses from artists operating within the sphere of fine art and also within that of urban art, ranging from the bold and socio-political to the subtle and poetic.

The new video work by Berlin and London-based British artist christopher steadman will be on view for its global premiere from 17 June to 22 June 2011.

christopher steadman

’The Only Way Down is Down’

4-monitor totemic elevator video installation.

11:11 mins., 4 synchronised DVD’s, 8 synchronised audio tracks.

17 June to 22 June 2011

Private View Thur. 16 June 2011, 6 – 9pm

'The Only Way Down is Down' takes on the disparate desperations of office boredom, machine horror, sex with strangers, concentration camp badges, cultural signs and symbols, and manages to bring an elegant and almost symphonic quality to themes that might otherwise incur a sense of drudgery and despair. Steadman teases and taunts us with the hidden dynamic of what goes on behind the closed doors of an elevator when anonymous strangers are forced to share a confined space. Through the tension and repetition of the opening and closing of elevator doors, the artist's interest in isolation is manifested as he follows a virtually invisible character up and down the empty shaft of what becomes a powerful reminder of the banality and anonymity of urban modernisation.

view a 2 min excerpt documenting the 4 screens of the video installation here

operation milo parte siete: la pista solano

2011-06-06T00:48:00.005+02:00

this is what i call a painting

2011-06-01T22:24:00.002+02:00

self portrait in tub with chinese food, by the amazing lee price

on dangerous paths walks zarathustra; may my animals guide me! (nietzsche)

2011-05-30T18:32:00.006+02:00

self-portrait with mini tiger 2011

la diva retrouvée

2011-05-30T13:10:00.001+02:00

lindsay lohan by richard phillips, at the venice biennale

in my darkest hour, Renée

2011-05-28T15:24:00.001+02:00

What beauties art gives us! As long as we retain them we will never be lost, never alone. (van gogh)

che ce lo proponga la destra o la sinistra: NO AL NUCLEARE

2011-05-28T14:39:00.001+02:00

Cablogramma ambasciata Usa del dicembre 2007 pubblicato da Wikileaks/L'Espresso:

2. (U) Il Ministro Bersani ha aperto l’incontro dando il benvenuto al Segretario Bodman e dichiarandosi pronto a firmare l’accordo bilaterale e Dichiarazione di Principi sulla Partnership Globale sull’Energia Nucleare (GNEP) .

Riferendosi al referendum del 1987 che aveva di fatto bandito la generazione di energia nucleare in Italia ha detto che "l'Italia non è esclusa dalla generazione di energia nucleare, è stata solo sospesa”.

Secondo Bersani la GNEP può giocare un ruolo importante nel modificare gli atteggiamenti italiani nei confronti dell’energia nucleare.

LEGGI IL TESTO INTERO DEL CABLOGRAMMA

la mario dogs books & dancing

2011-05-22T18:01:00.002+02:00

this is not a film (jafar panahi)

2011-05-20T13:34:00.002+02:00

Iranian film-maker Jafar Panahi's "This Is Not A Film" ("In Film Nist" in Farsi) premiered at Cannes on Thursday after being smuggled out of the Islamic republic where the dissident has been sentenced to six years in jail.

It depicts a day in Panahi's life as he waits to hear the appeal's verdict on his jail sentence, as well as a 20-year filmmaking and travel ban.

While co-director Mojtaba Mirtahmasb shoots him on video—and sometimes just leaves the camera running when he’s not there—Panahi reads and acts out scenes from a movie he’s been forbidden to make, about a girl who’s been imprisoned in her house by her family to prevent her from going to university.

After all, no one has said he can’t read or act. So Panafi tapes off an area of a Persian rug in his spacious high-rise home to represent the girl’s room, and maps out the action.

On speaker phone, we also hear Panahi discuss his plight with his female lawyer, who is pessimistic. She predicts the 20-year ban might be removed, but at best his prison term will just be reduced...

pink puppy

2011-05-19T23:44:00.003+02:00

self-portraits with pink puppy 2011

happy endings are all alike;

2011-05-15T18:32:00.007+02:00

every unhappy ending is unhappy in its own way. self-portrait in rome 2011

the half-life of love affairs

Long before all that jazz I got sick, and he called to see how I was, then showed up at my hotel room door.

He observed me all feverish and disheveled in my nightgown and I thought, “I don’t even know him, and he brings me medicine - what a nice guy!”

Except there are no nice guys; just ones with different degrees of attraction to you, plus all the different degrees of their inclination to act on it.

Cut to months later, in which I’m carrying this slowly decaying feeling around, waiting for it to die, trying not to get infected.

They say it ain’t over till the fat lady sings and I’m looking for her in every joint in town, wanting to grab her and say “Goddamn it, sing lady – sing!”

the solaris report

2011-05-14T09:22:00.003+02:00

Rome is more beautiful than Buenos Aires, but in its solaris aspect it is just as asphyxiating.

Maybe that’s why when I call those of my friends who supposedly live here, they all answer things like “I’m in Berlin for a couple of weeks” or “I’m in Tunisia watching the revolution” or “I’m in London till Easter.”

I have Roman friends in Amsterdam, Paris. Also one friend who does live here, but says things like, “Life is elsewhere. Let’s move to Copenhagen.”

In my first years in Manhattan, I was befriended by a band of Israelis. They were all traumatized by the things they’d seen and done in the Occupied Territories, and had fled as soon as their military service was over.

In New York they worked hard and did a lot of drugs, but even so, they couldn’t help remembering the war. Eventually though, one by one they returned to Israel, where they joined kibbutzes, had children.

In LA, I was befriended by a band of Texans. They took me under their wing, invaded my house with cases of beer, took me to no name clubs in Silver Lake to see bands like the White Stripes before they were famous, also to Mexican dives featuring Chicano drag queens.

Later when I moved back to New York, I was befriended by a band of Oklahomans. We’d met in London, but Manhattan was where we really bonded.

Like my Israeli and Texan friends they were a passionate, affectionate, boisterous and hard-drinking people. They nursed me out of my post-divorce stress syndrome, invited me into their homes, took me to see the Flaming Lips in Prospect Park.

Ian Brown says Home Is Where The Heart Is, Stendhal says Home Is Where We Meet Those Who Resemble Us. If that’s the case then mine is wherever the free spirits roam. Also wherever they are being held against their will, like jafar panahi’s prison cell in Iran.

once upon a time i dressed so fine

2011-05-13T20:24:00.004+02:00

it's like all those things happened in a dream to someone else
self-portrait in buenos aires 2008

sydney in the house

2011-05-08T19:09:00.002+02:00

One of the reasons I loved working on our cambodian film is almost everyone on the crew was multi-talented.
Among them was Alex: not only can he pull focus and handle a hasselblad, he also plays in this arty-intellectual rock band from Sydney called winter people. Alex is the cute guy with the drum.

when i was a child i knew that we would get closer (hercules & love affair)

2011-05-08T11:41:00.000+02:00

Hoy paseando con le baron de charlus conocimos a beatrice, de un año y medio, y ella nos regaló estas flores.

Today in the park we met Beatrice, one and a half.
"Bau!" she said, and gave us these flowers.

What can I say...? I cried, which didn't bother her because like all children she could tell the difference between sad tears and happy tears.

laika one two

2011-05-07T14:11:00.001+02:00

Il est bon d'aimer autant que l'on peut, car c'est lá que git la vraie force... ce qui se fait par amour est bien fait.

Hay que amar lo más posible: ahí reside la verdadera fuerza. Lo que está hecho por amor es bien hecho.

van gogh

le mot juste (flaubert)

2011-05-06T16:42:00.000+02:00

A motto (Italian for pledge, sentence; plural: mottos or mottoes) is a phrase meant to formally describe the general motivation or intention of a social group or organization. In informal ways, it can be a rule or slogan someone follows, or lives their life by.

Mariel gave me the above-pictured object a couple of years ago, adding: "You'll be so much happier once you stop thinking with your p***y and start thinking with your head Stef."

Which was endearing in a way, because it meant that, against overwhelming evidence to the contrary, she had hopes for my ability to make sane choices in the four-letter department.

Thank god I just found her present again: some mottoes may be harder to live by than others, but then again, this is why we need good friends to give us recall from time to time.

longtemps, je me suis couchée de bonne heure (proust)

2011-05-04T14:57:00.003+02:00

du coté de chez stef: here, every day, we take a stroll with le baron de charlus

peut-on aimer ceux qui n'aiment pas marcel?

Those who love girlontape know that her world is divided into those who read proust and those who do not; she's even been known to paraphrase the duchesse de guermantes on the subject of odette, as follows:

"There wouldn't be anything to talk about any more if one were obliged to make the acquaintance of the proust-less!"

But the heart has its reasons, which reason doth not know: so girlontape has sometimes formed passionate attachments to just such people.

One of these is mariel: has any friend been more loyal, more tender, more fierce, more bravely loving?

Little did it matter that, a tough kid from a tough hood, mariel never finished high school, and thus could not be expected to know that marcel even exists.

Imagine my face the day I had the following conversation with her, three years ago:

stef: Hey... what are you up to?

mariel: I just started Within a Budding Grove.

stef: Come again?!?

mariel: Well I finished Swann's Way yesterday, so -

stef: I'm not sure I understand.

mariel: Didn't you say The World Is Divided Into Those Who Read Proust And Those Who Don't?

stef: Yeah, but -

mariel: It's a good book. Kinda trippy.

Now that was a proof of love, such as this world needs more of; and also proof that one may indeed sometimes love the unprousted (as long as they end up reading proust).

death be not proud, for thou cannot kill me (john donne)

2011-05-02T18:29:00.005+02:00

Like kartina would say, every week has its own obsessions: mine right now is the British Orpheus, aka henry purcell. He died aged 36, having given the world some of its most sublime music.

Among his greatest interpreters are klaus nomi, who died aged 39, and andreas scholl... who thankfully is still here to regale us with his art.

Here's what andreas says about klaus: "He was one of the first victims of AIDS in the music world. He wasn’t accepted in music academies, so he worked as a baker and as an extra in the Essen Opera House.

Later he left Germany to live in New York, where he became a member of a vibrant world of eccentric artists as part of the gay music scene. He always had these wonderful costumes – some people claim that David Bowie copied Klaus Nomi’s style. He was on the verge of a huge breakthrough when he died."

Here is one of Klaus' last performances of Henry's marvelous cold song, when he was already mortally ill:

And here is Andreas' tribute to Klaus, from his 2011 recording of Purcell songs and arias:

What power art thou
Who from below
Hast made me rise
Unwillingly and slow
From beds of everlasting snow?