About: Essays, Ron Athey's Lecture (a review) and The Live Art Development Agency (a guide)

Essay period is approaching my friends (well, I don't know if want to call any of you people my friends), and while some of us have a natural talent to write original First-Level essays two months before the deadline (yes, I'm talking to you Chris Moore), the rest try our best something to give our essays that extra little spice. And that isn't really easy, especially considering that while on other courses modules are made mandatory if they are essential to all students, in Drama they just choose the ones which sound like no student will willingly take it, if given the choice. And thus I found myself waking up at 6:30 am on Monday so I can make it to the London based Live Art Development Agency's Study Room by 10:30. You ca book sessions from 10:30 to 13:30 or from 14:30 to 18:30, or all day (it's all a bit confusing), and considering that Monday they only had a free spot at from 10:30 to 13:30, I had to take that one and another full on Tuesday. Oh, a tip, their website says you can book by e-mailing them, completely useless, I sent three e-mails, they were all ignored; call them.

After nearly having missed the coach I got into London at 9:45 and I boarded the Northern Line, going towards Old Street Station. I had noted down the name of the streets I had to take, finding those streets on the other hand was a tad more difficult, mainly because all the people I asked had different opinions on where those streets might be. But here you have the easiest way:

-Get off at Old Street, and take Exit 3
-Go straight ahead and then right on to Great Eastern Street
-At the Rivington House go left on to Rivington Street
-Keep going ahead until you reach Shoreditch High Street, go left and immediatly right on to Calvert Avenue
-When you reach Arnold Circus turn left and go around the circus until you pass Rochelle Street
-There is a wooden door on top of it says "BOYS", there is an intercom, you have reached your destination.

The Study Room itself was alright. The staff was friendly and helpful, everything was explained. The room isn't very big, quite small actually, but it has loads of resources on everything in the live art domain (check the online catalog), books, articles, vhs, dvds etc. They have a Mac and two TVs with VHS/DVD players. It is a great resource.
On the first day I was by myself, on the second one there were to more people, but it didn't feel crowded.



I got off at Stepney Green Station at 18:15, the lecture was supposed to start at 18:30. I rushed towards Queen Mary College, and I got there pretty soon, just that it was the Engineering department, and none of the students there knew anything about any Arts Building. Ignorant fools (not that I have any idea in which building graphic design is thought at ARU). When I got to the building I still wasn't sure if this was the right place, but soon enough the mass of tattooed and heavily pierced faces contrasting the smart clothing gave me a hunch I am not to far from my target. I looked around for any familiar faces, none! (shame on you Drama students). Well there was one face I knew, for who could forget that ugly face, with the metal teeth sticking out, that fat stubby body, the bold tattoed head? Yes Franko himself...I'm sorry, I'm should use the proper name, B. himself...wait that's not right either. You know whom I mean, Franko B.

Soon enough Gianna and Kerstin came in with a rush, I waved but they walked right passed me, either not noticing or even worse completely ignoring me. I went up to them anyway, and was swiftly informed of their misadventures on the way down here. No room for more talk though, the lecture was starting.

I was shocked (which, I presume, is expected from a Ron Athey lecture, just that I was shocked for all the wrong reasons). The man who came on stage after the name Ron Athey was announced and applauded was nothing like I imagined. A slim man with a goatee, an elegant manner, a soft friendly voice; a very likeable character....hell, if it wasn't for the tattoos, the many many tattoos, he would make some conservative elderly couple's Perfect Neighbor List. My mind could not connect the man in front of the screen with the man on the screen who was shoving dildos up his ass.

The lecture consisted mainly of screening of some of his material and reading of some writings. There were jokes, gore, sex and everything you would expect from such an event. Yet I fear I have not learned anything new.

After the lecture, without a word of departure Kerstin and Gianna vanished into thin air, so I drank some of the free wine which was offered, but lingered not much longer. There was a friend waiting for me on the other end of the District Line and more drinking was to commence.

Conclusion: Ron Athey lecture, funny and interesting yet not particularly useful. Live Art Agency, a useful even if well hidden essay resource.

Gorillaz gig pics +Set List

Damon



More pics here and here

GORILLAZ'd

Tired. So fucking tired. 6 PM, laying in my bed after a long day of school trying not to fall asleep. But I have to get to the secret Gorillaz concert…well so called ‘secret’ concert, just for the fan-base. I’m weighing the fact that not only will there not be any reasonable priced tickets, but that there probably will be NO tickets. But I said I’ll try, I’ll stop being lazy and do shit. Sigh.

I get 40£ from a cash-machine, telling myself I will haggle like hell with the ticket touts and not go higher than 30…35…ok 40, but that’s it! ‘cause that’s all I have. Long sigh.

I’m on my way to the Junction and I am already starting to regret going, considering that once I’ll get there I’ll probably immediately make my way back.

I get there. A small queue for regulars. Another one for G-Club members. Apparently there might be tickets. My pessimism fades. A guy asks around if somebody wants a ticket, ‘cause his friend bailed on him. “How much?” “Regular price, 25.” “All right!” Ticket looks fine, but still I am suspicious. But sure enough five minutes later I’m in. I pay another 2£ for wardrobe, a decision which will later prove very wise indeed. An hour to go. I am glad I got away under 30 quid, and I vow to keep the rest safe. So immediately I buy a poster for 9£ (which I really not regret) and an over-priced Stella Artois, which is stale and bitter and not cold enough (which I regretted on the spot).

The crowd is strangely disproportionate. Bunch of teens on one side and a bunch of people who weren’t really young when Blur first started, and haven’t grown younger since. Not as many people in their 20s-30s as I expected. The crowd is still thin and I walk around for a while, but I soon chose my place, which is only a few of rows from the stage, and I can actually see stuff happening up there. Two guys behind me wonder why is it that the first three rows at concerts are always filled by people over 6’ tall (1,80 m for the normal people). A valid question. I had a similar theory at the Thom Yorke concert, people should be allowed in according to their height, tallest people last, so everyone can fucking see.

Well an hour later, the lights go down and the crowd goes wild. About ten people come on stage dressed in navy costumes and grab their instruments. As Damon Albarn comes on stage, people in the crowd shout “Happy Birthday!”, true fans apparently. He salutes them and the whole crowd starts singing “Happy Birthday”!

We are soon informed that this is a rehearsal gig for the upcoming tour so there are no visuals and stuff, “At least you’re here!” somebody shouts. At least I’m there, I think. Later he tells us that Bruce Willis isn’t there either! (if you don’t get it, click here).

I despised the Yorke crowd, they were slow, and didn’t seem to let the music get to their minds, and this crowd starts off slowly as well. Few people are immediately drawn into the music and start dancing, but slowly the movement spreads, and although there are still plenty of the “I’m here to enjoy the concert, thank you, not to monkey around!” people, a good vibe rises. Part of it is the music, but mostly it’s due to Albarn. That man has a lot of energy and knows how to get a crowd moving. He makes jokes, dances around, gets close to people, cools us off by baptizing us with his water-bottle. I didn’t really have an opinion on the guy before, but now I really love’im! The band plays for an hour and half, mostly songs from their new album, “Plastic Beach”, maybe exclusively, I’ve listened to all their albums, but I don’t know them good enough to recognize most of the songs. I’m not actually a big fan, alright?

Anyway, at one point when I was really getting hyped and the music had gotten to my had and I was moving frenetically, they suddenly stop, and exit stage left. What? That’s it? There are so many songs which have not been sung, sure we all know you are keeping the two golden ones for the encore, but what about “Tomorrow Comes Today”, “19-2001” and “Rock the House”? What about them Damon? Damn you!

The crowd makes noise for quite a while until the bands enters stage right (clever, mister Albarn, clever). People scream out titles randomly! Jesus, when will these people learnt the set-list has been done a long time ago, their screaming is nothing more than useless and annoying! He lets us now that the nest song will be a ballad; “Park Life” somebody sings shouting from the crowd (click here if you don’t get it), “Not exactly!” he answers amused as the crowd laughs; “The one where you go 'Woo-hoo'!” (you know what to do) somebody else shouts next to me, but not many people hear him. They start playing “Pirate Jet” or “To Binge”, not really sure (hope to get set list soon). Then he looks confused as if he doesn’t know what follows, but a mad laughter invades the stage, and we all know what that means. Crowd goes crazy and really feels good. And we get no break as we move on into the next song, the one we all waited for. The one that determined me about 8 years ago to chose their album to be the first album I bought for myself out of my pocket-money.

I am still energetic as I wait with some other people outside for the band to come out. I don’t usually care much for autographs, but I had the poster, and if I bought it I might as well get it signed. A porter lets us know that his whole family is in there, and they got a cake, and the band might be out in 20 minutes, but it will more likely be 2 hours. Fuck’it! The poster and my memory is enough! After nearly 3 hours of standing I go home with ten times more energy than when I left!

C(onnet) ++ 3.31

#include

void thoughts(){

clrsoul();

int memory, lucidity=max, intoxication, pain, feeling;

cin>>memory; cout "<<" pain;

if( pain>0) { for(intoxication=0, intoxication "<" coma, intoxication ++){

lucidity=lucidity+intoxication;

pain=pain-lucidity; } }

else { forget(memory);

if(feeling!=happiness) { feeling++;

depression--;

return; }

get.newlife();

}

Nostalgia 15: Pinky and the Brain

Why is it the that the less somebody has to say about a matter the more eager they will be to talk?

Expanded Lucidity

These are the transcriptions of two recordings I made while I was drunk, and I think they accurately express my idea that I fear complete lucidity more than I could ever fear insanity, and that logic and too much thought taint the way we absorb the World more than any drug. To see the World with untroubled eyes, you must forget how to see. Try to see different facets, and yes drugs (amongst other things: music, films, poetry, sleep-deprivation etc) give you a different lucidity, an Expanded Lucidity. Accept it.

Both recordings were made over Clint Mansells's "The Last Man" so I am attaching it:


Asculta mai multe audio Muzica (around minute 3)

First recording:

I can only find
clarity
On the bottom of a
bottle
Where all my thoughts
are drowned
and all my feelings
set free

There is no
clarity
in the World
of thoughts
and
logic

Second recording (less poetic, more slurred and excited)

be free and fly
and you'll have the clarity of the world in your eyes
you see every detail every beauty, everything

you can...

don't let yourself be tied down
...every worry...

YOU MUST ESCAPE THIS...world...you've built
you cannot! escape it

so i drink, and i feel ALIVE
and i know i can see the world with untroubled eyes
i can see its true shape and true form
when a cloud is over my thoughts
and my neurons morph...


That's pretty much it, I haven't edited anything, some of it sounds really stupid, but some of it I like.

And because I love Clint Mansell, I leave you with another one of his songs:

Thom Yorke Live at the Corn Exchange Cambridge

The ticket said the show would start at 19:00, and Jack (who was in the organization, and gave me the free ticket) said I should meet him there at seven.
I got there 20 minutes early, and no sign of Jack, nor did he answer his phone, so I took my place in the queue, which span over two corners of the large building. What a bummer. Barely did I take my place, that the length of the line nearly doubled, I could almost say I was lucky.

I waited in the damn Cambridge rain, at least it wasn't as cold as a few days ago. The line started moving quickly, and I was soon inside, where I found a smiling untroubled Jack, suddenly reminded of my presence there tonight. I was soon informed of an afterparty, to which I would of course have no access. So much for my dreams of befriending a great artist, to mooch of his fame and get noticed.

I spent time with Jack, as he talked to people, not really knowing what I was doing there; so I decided to get a drink, some black gold would suffice (Guinness I mean); but the cumdumpster at the bar asked for my ID which I didn't have, what impertinence, and I did not get my drink. Luckily I had my flask of whiskey with me, which the bouncer failed to notice, and the attempts to stop me from drinking failed miserably.

But Jack's company proved not entirely useless, for another ticket for the concert did emerge, for no charge (damn basterd, saved me over 200 quid on tickets for events he got me in for free, gotta love him). I called a friend, who had wanted to come, and he did not hesitate in showing up.

As he showed up I know my supply of cigarettes and booze was enriched, as he took no break to regain breath until he bought the first pints of cider. We went in in the middle of the opening act, a strange geek on the stage, seemingly frightened, making awkward jokes, yet singing a nice amateurish Nick Cave type thing.

He did stop soon after, and we went for another fag, but when we got back the crowd grew thicker, and we barely found any good spots.

We waited for a while, but then there he was, Thom Yorke, himself, looking sickly-shaby, with his salt and pepper hair and his uncombed beard, but delivering a great performance and stage presence. He played some Radiohead tunes, mainly form in Rainbows, and many of his own songs, some of which he never sang on stage before. And we got two encores as well, from a humble little man, he would make us sing, and in the next minute almost weep. Damn you Thom, you are good.

But something was wrong, the crowd seemed out of place. Sure, they were clapping and cheering, but still they was no vibe man. Nobody was moving franatically, fuck, people looked at me strangely for humming along to the songs. That was a damn symphony crowd not a Thom Yorke one.

What a corruption of my first life Thom/Radiohead experience, but still what an experience.

Set list
Pretty good quality videos

Reconciliation Letter

We had a good run, we did.
I met you when I was little, we didn't really get on at the time, but I got to know you much better when I was fourteen, and although some people warned me not to get involved with you, and even I had my doubts, we quickly became quite close.
And we've been together since, and you never let me down. You were always there for me, when I had it rough with the parents, or at school, when I was depressed, when a girlfriend left me and I thought the World would end, you were right there, soothing me. Even physical pain you softened. Sure, we had some arguments, some really bad moments, and I did say a few times I never want to see you again, but I always returned smiling. You were there all through high-school, in the good moments, and all the bad ones, when I let nobody else but you close to me.

But then I moved to Uni, and I felt our relationship was not as strong anymore. In the first year we still met, had fun, though not as often, yet we pretended it was alright. And we'd meet more often when I would get home, and things would seem like in the old days. But in the second year, we couldn't fool ourselves any more, and in the last months I would feel you getting more and more distant, we'd meet up sometimes, have some fun, but we were like strangers. I think it's mostly my fault, I drove you away. And now that I see this I want you back, and you are more eager than ever to keep me company.

Thank you alcohol, thank you for everything.

Six years down, with you by my side, six more years to go, and I hope you will stay by my side until I join the 27 club.

Campania commenturilor irelevante a.k.a. spam. Experiment-fail? Part 3

Ar fi trebuit să scriu frumos ieri şi chestia asta, când îmi curgea textul din degete pe tastatură. Acum e imediat ora doi şi nu am habar ce să scriu aici. Ok, asta e partea în care ar trebui să vă conving că toată campania asta nu fost degeaba, că am tras totuşi nişte concluzii. Eh, şi dacă nu am tras? Ce s-ar întâmplă. Am concluzii, am, dar ar fi trebuit să scriu chestia asta sâmbăta trecută când concluziile erau şi frumos ordonate în mintea mea.
Am intrat pe facebook şi pe stumble de vreo cinci ori până acum.
Ok, pentru că nu găsesc vreo ordine a gândurilor, le scriu cum îmi vin. Recunosc că în momentul când am decis că vreau să pornesc campania nu aveam în cap motivul exact pentru care o pornesc sau că ce aş vrea să obţin de la ea, dar mi se părea o idee neamaipomenită şi eram surescitat. Slavă domnului că pe parcurs s-a dovedit a nu fi o idee originală dar goală.
Cel mai mult m-au surprins reacţiile unor oameni. Evident că mă aşteptam ca oamenii să se enerveze din cauza a ceea ce făceam, dar nu mă aşteptam să se supere efectiv, să o ia ca pe o ofensă personală. Dar oamenii au răspuns cu o agresivitate de care sper că eu nu pot fi acuzat. ‘blogger’ m-a prezentat ca un “asshole from Romania” în faţa internetului, o blogeriţă m-a ameninţat că va încerca să mi se şteargă blogul, iar alt blogger a zis că ceea ce fac e o lipsă totală de respect şi o idioţenie pentru copii de clasa a patra. Şi toate astea pentru că au trebuit să facă un click în plus pe ziua aia; pentru că le-am invadat sacrul blogurilor cu nişte commenturi irelevante. Nu pot să nu mă întreb că dacă lăsam commenturi în care le combăteam posturile sau chiar îi jigneam pentru ele, dacă aveau aceeaşi reacţie, sau dacă luau lucrurile mai calm. Cum a putut un post nevinovat să determine un adult să numească pe cineva ‘idiot’ (indirect, dar se presupune că pentru a comite o idioţenie trebuie să fi idiot)? Mi-am dat seama că interpretasem total greşit relaţia blog-blogger. Blogul nu este o unealtă a bloggerului de a comunica cu comunitatea digitală, este o extensie a sa, este avatarul său, reprezentaţia sa în ether. Conţinutul blogului poate fi atacat, dar nu şi blogul în sine. Iar un comment care nu are relevanţă cu un post sau cu blogul, întrerupe liniaritatea blogului, şi este deci un atac. Care va provoca a defensivă deşi o ofensivă clară nu se poate semnala.
Bloggerii, exceptând cei cu adevarat ignoranţi, nu au nimic împotrivă commenturilor provocatoare şi care atacă conţinutul, neştergerea acestor commenturi e dovada maturităţii bloggerului, care recunoaşte dreptul celuilalt de a avea o opinie, şi respectul pentru opinia acestuia. Dar un comment fără relevanţă (sau cel puţin relevanţă directă) este jignitor, adică postul nu a reuşit să provoace un comment relevant? Şi dacă nu are relevanţă, de ce s-ar păstra commentul? Dar dreptul la liberă exprimare nu menţionează că ceea ce se exprimă trebuie să fie relevant cu vreun subiect. E ca şi cum te-ai duce la o grevă cu o pancartă pe care scrie salam verde, greviştii probabil nu ar fi prea încântaţi, ar privi-o probabil ca o ridicularizare a grevei lor, dar nu trebuie să fie, şi ai tot dreptul să afişezi acea pancartă.
Mulţi dintre voi aveţi filtre şi captcha-uri pentru a evita roboţii de spam, şi înţeleg de ce cineva ar vrea să evite commenturi de reclame automatizate, dar din moment ce am putut trece peste captcha, nu am dovedit că sunt om? Că am dreptul să-mi exprim părerea, oricât de irelevantă ar fi ea.
Aţi putea argumenta că este totuşi blogul vostru, şi că păstraţi ce vreţi. Ok. Dar atunci nu încercaţi să păstraţi o imagine de imparţialitate. Am ajuns la următorul punct.
Multe bloguri sunt reacţii la ziare, televiziune, media în general, care potrivit bloggerului sunt conduse de nişte oameni sus-puşi, care sunt subiective şi distorzionează informaţiile după cum vor. Iar blogul este o metodă de a combate asta şi de a prezenta adevărul aşa cum este. Ăsta e probabil cel mai ilar concept din blogosferă. O dată pentru că ideea de adevăr este falsă, adevărul este doar minciuna cea mai apropiată de realitate şi diferă de la om la om. Ideea că o singură persoană poate pe blogul său să menţină o obiectivitate pe care un ziar sau un canal TV nu poate e absurdă. Aşa că ori ştergeţi toate commenturile supărătoare, ori lăsaţi-le pe toate, şi scoateţi filtrele. Dar nu mai încercaţi să vă convingeţi că sunteţi obiectivi.
O altă concluzie pe care am consolidat-o după campanie, dar la care ajunsesem înainte, este că îmi voi închide blogul. Nu pentru că aş fi dezamăgit de reacţii, sau că m-aş simţi jignit, chiar nu am de ce. Dar după cum a spus şi în partea 1, există două tipuri de bloguri, cele în care oamenii mai scriu ce le trece prin cap, din plictiseală, şi cele a bloggerilor, pentru care blogurile nu sunt unelte de a înregistra gânduri şi frânturi de viaţă, ci viaţa şi gândurile sunt acolo pentru a avea material de pus pe blog. Iar eu am fost prea dedicat pentru a intra în prima categorie, dar nu destul pentru a intra în a doua. De fapt la blogmeet mi-am dat seama de ce nu mă simţeam totuşi blogger, ce îmi lipseşte mie; oamenii ăia chiar îşi luau bogurile în serios, adică, ok, da, implicare ca implicare, dar eu chiar lucrau la blogurile lor, şi plănuiau şi aveau acea idee de importanţă, care nu e nici măcar greşită. Era o vorbă: “Blogging: Now you can tell the whole world why nobody listens to you”, ceea ce deseori se aplică (blogul de faţă fiind un prim exemplu), dar există şi excepţii. Dar cu toate astea nu am putut dezvolta pentru blog acea pasiune pe care au dezvoltat-o alţii, care îi determină să se simtă jigniţi şi să atace oameni direct la cel mai mic semn de atac asupra blogului.
Nefiind în stare să ţin un blog aşa cum aş vrea, am decis să închei acest joc, şi să îl închid peste o săptămână, timp în care îmi voi scoate din sânge ultimele posturi pe care le aveam plănuite. (nobine sper că asta te mulţumeşte, mă inchid singur fără ajutor de la blogspot)
Blogismul e un fel de contracultură. Motiv pentru care speram că oamenii vor fi deschişi la iniţiativa mea, şi câţiva au fost, dar nu câţi mă aşteptam. Deci un fail şi din partea voastră. Intenţii rele nu am avut, dar cred ca am arătat că acele valori a căror lipsă o combateţi prin posturile voastre, vă lipsesc şi vouă. Nici voi nu sunteţi deschişi noului, dacă v-ar putea ameninţa autoritatea, ba chiar refuzaţi înverşunat să îl priviţi sau să îl studiaţi. Iniţiative noi sunt privite cu suspiciune, iar ideea de liberă exprimare pe net e cam ipocrită.
Este o contracultură, dar prin asta devine o cultură în sine. Şi orice cultură are propria ei contracultură, iar dacă eu am fost printre primii din acest val, şi nu prea am avut efect, nu am fost printre ultimii. Nu ştiu ce tehnologie şi mediu de comunicare va aduce viitorul, dar pregăţi-vă (pe parcurs de ani desigur) pentru sosirea haterilor, trollerilor şi anti/contrabloggerilor.
La final vreau să îmi cer scuze de la cei pe care i-am enervat/supărat prin campania mea, în special de la despre nimicuri, şi blondele gândesc, omnia sol temperat, (r)evolution, şi să mulţumesc lui Podul Minciunilor şi Mai merită ceva? şi tuturor care nu s-au împotrivit.
Poate că nu am primit reacţiile pe care le-am vrut, dar am primit reacţii, aşa că nu cred ca experimentul e chiar fail. Voi ce credeţi?
Ştiu că am exagerat, că am generalizat şi că am fost melodramatic în postul acesta, dar hei, e blogul meu, scriu ce vreau. Nu?
Şi pentru că în celelalte două am terminat cu câte un video, dar pentru că pe azi nu aveam unul plănuit, am pus un mic video care nu are relevanţă, dar la care mă uit de câte ori am nevoie de o reîncarcare de energie. Campania commenturilor irelevante s-a terminat dar cea filmuleţelor irelevante de abia începe. Muahahahaha:

Mă duc să vă mai spamuiesc o dată şi să mă culc.