Archive for July, 2014

YOU GUYS

July 7, 2014

I cannot believe I forgot to blog about my genius art project with my crafty friend LM.  It’s been on Etsy for ages and for reasons completely beyond me, did not manage to go viral.  For your consideration: Carcosan Mirror.

Its shape is that of time.

Its shape is that of time.

Hello there.

Hello there.

And here is the genius copy I wrote for it:

This mirror is 1.5” in diameter. Gazing into it, you can see a little more than one eye, in addition to the depths of your dark, depraved soul. Perfect for the anti-natalist in your life who doesn’t care about her hairdo, or the hard-drinking chain smoker who’d rather contemplate the non-linear nature of time than watch football with his buddies. Looks great on bare, slightly discolored walls.

If shipping domestically, mirror will arrive between 3-7 business days, and arrive over and over again as you eternally wander around the flat circle of time that is your life.

Questions: email Dora Lange at itinerantdaughterandson [!at] gmail.com. PLEASE NOTE that the manufacturers are on vacation in the Bayou until Sunday, March 9th, and will fill orders after they return… if they do at all.

Enjoy?

In case you want to grab one before my listing expires, here is the link.

The Gibbons Twins

July 7, 2014

It’s been a while since I spent some time with my favorite crazy twins, the Gibbons sisters.  June and Jennifer––whose ridiculously bizarre bio can be found here––were, a British correspondent of mine told me, a favorite subject of The Manic Street Preachers, whose music sounds a bit quaint now but who were, in the eighties and nineties, considered the apex of dark.  Below, MSP’s song “Tsunami,” about the Gibbons twins.  (Someone please track down a copy of Pepsi-Cola Addict for me!)

“Tsunami”

For you my dear sister
Holding onto me forever
Disco dancing with the rapists
Your only crime is silence

Can’t work at this anymore
Can’t move I want to stay at home
Tied up to all these crutches
Never far from your hands

Tsunami tsunami
Came washing over me
Tsunami tsunami
Came washing over me
Can’t speak, can’t think, won’t talk, won’t walk

Doctors tells me that I’m cynical
I tell them that it must be chemical
So what am I doing girl
Cry into my drink I disappear

Eyes for teeth grating over me
Bring down the shadows of my mind
Sleep and breathe under our sheets
Inhale the anxiety in – between, in – between, in – between, in – between

Tsunami tsunami
Came washing over me
Tsunami tsunami
Came washing over me
Tsunami tsunami
Came washing over me
Tsunami tsunami
Came washing over me

Through September under the weather

In – between, in – between, in – between, in – between

Tsunami tsunami
Came washing over me
Tsunami tsunami
Came washing over me
Tsunami tsunami
Came washing over me
Tsunami tsunami
Came washing over me

Take the GI’s I will have the spies

My Class!

July 2, 2014

 My friend, and classmate!, LV on an atheist’s love for Talmud:

“There are few individuals that fit this bill, but I was fortunate enough to know of one of them. Rabbi Ysoscher Katz had been a Satmar rabbi who taught a popular Talmud class in Borough Park before leaving that role to chair the Talmud department at Open Orthodoxy’s flagship rabbinical academy, Yeshivat Chovevei Torah, a place that aims to reconcile Orthodox Judaism with contemporary ethics. I enrolled in an early morning Talmud class that Rabbi Katz taught to students from an array of Jewish backgrounds, in a classroom on the fourth floor of the Skirball Center for Adult Jewish Learning in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Arriving on my first day, I clutched a cup of coffee in my hand and found a place at the end of the big wooden table, amongst women in yarmulkes and bareheaded men.

“Rabbi Katz arrived, a young bearded man in Orthodox-style dress. He passed out photocopies printed with that distinct talmudic architecture: a center block of words in a bisected frame of commentaries adorned with columns of smaller text. The paper felt illicit in my hands.”

Kinda upset I didn’t have a cameo but what can you do?