Tag: party

Saturday: Civil Civic. Monday: Fucking Werewolf Asso

I’ve been back from Finland for a week, but my ambitions and sense of urgency hasn’t caught up yet. I have enough material for a couple of more Turku videos, not to mention the hours and hours of assembly footage I should put together for the general betterment of the RepRap noob community. Somehow the beer and the Sara and the visiting mom and — not to put too fine a point on it — the stupendous amount of lazy I can bring forth has been given priority above most other things.

The printer is on my kitchen table, in pieces, but with an aura of assembliness about it. I left the printing bed in Finland, seeing as it was temporary to begin with and the plexi was all messed up like, so I need to get one of those; Need to decide on either a solid metal or PCB heating element, and find a source of cut and drilled glass.

Sara has already invited people over to my place for a print party next week in an attempt at social blackmail. So with the start of a few evening courses this week, I go back to work for money as well as continue the printing work for glory.

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Tomorrow I start teaching two photo courses, and after the last one finishes I’m hoping to catch Fucking Werewolf Asso play at Pustervik. You should really come because they’re bloody awesome and their albums — which you can practically steal here — kept me going late night in the studio. I first saw them play a set just after Civil Civic two years ago, and as it happens Civil Civic played yesterday at Jazzhuset and I ended up going since Petter had a man-cold and Sara needed company.

I’ve seen them the three times they’ve played Gothenburg, and even though the music is made for driving cars through deserts and/or biking very fast, it’s quite a treat to have the base and drum hit you at a live show as well. As it happens, they just finished recording their crowdfunded album, and you can listen to it in the nifty embed below, or just go to their homepage and give them your ill-gotten gains: civilcivic.com. Sixty odd people where at the concert yesterday, and the mood was good and I was very happy that I’d brought my Etymotic in-ear headphones cause the noise was noisy as all fuck.

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Also, as a public service announcement: I shoot video quite often and imagine that people are annoyed when I’m in their way. I do my best not to be too much of a bother, and try not overdo it. For example, I don’t stand front and center of the small stage wearing a stupid hat, trying to record half the concert on my iPhone. Don’t be that guy, cause that guy is a jerk.

Guarding Enrico Pallazzo with my bare fists.

Given that I’m both handsome and easily amused, I was handed guard duty at the housewarming party for Hey, it’s Enrico Pallazzo on Saturday. As if by total coincidence that day marked the end of my one month sobriety; It goes without saying that beer improves the quality of life when you’re standing in freezing weather, trying to be friendly to people. What also helps is having a faux earpiece in one ear, and making an occasional pretense at receiving info from inside the party. Not many dared to call me on it, and those who did thought it was fun.

It was interesting to note the ten metre walk of dignity that people felt compelled to put on as soon as I was spotted. The avoidance of eye contact, the miniscule nod of the head so as to indicate friendliness, or alternatively the 1000 yard stare past me so that sheer determination would see them through. Gods know we’ve all been there, and I’m happy to say that a minimal amount of power was abused by me.

Carding 19-year olds was a bit odd, but even they seemed cheerful. I guess it’s because they’ve just barely reached legal age and still revel in being able to show a legit ID and not their older brothers bus pass. Because the housewarming was semi-private, the cost of getting in varied depending on who knew whom and what mood that person was in; The cover charge jumped from “voluntary” to 100 then down to 20, 50 and settled on 40-ish. The age-limit yo-yoed as did the rules of “this drunk or less to get in.” In the end only one guy was turned away; His indignant snarl diminished by his more convincing inability to speak in full sentences.

Hey, it’s Enrico Pallazzo is an ensemble of folks who got bored working for advertising agencies and started up something that nestles between advertisement and art. Adart? Regardless of their ambition, the space they are renting is beyond awesome. It’s beawesome.

Anna and Jan have commandeered a tiled room – imagine a large shower at a mental asylum, refurbished with a wooden floor – and there’s a big pillared hall which can be used for workshops, exhibitions or (like the other day) for parties. A grand space is an excellent catalyst for action; It’s going to be fun to see what comes off it.

“Earth Hour” was celebrated by turning off all the lights for half an hour, issuing glowsticks and lighting candles. Any doubt as to the symbolism of the event was dispelled by the unabated techno. Imagine that you’re Earth and one of the kids kicking you in the face has decided not to wear steel tipped shoes out of consideration for your well-being, but is still aiming for the teeth. Even so, there was an accoustic guitar, which I guess counts as a token of caring and a concession to uplugged entertainment.

Burlesque! Caffeine & Suicide! Mustache!

Last Friday was spent at a party. A burlesque party. To better fit in with the crowd of Manson fans and strip-tease performers, I presented myself in tights and with a mustache + soul patch. I’m going to try this feature on for a couple of days. So far most people are bemused. I don’t know, is it too Wyatt Earpy? (Also, please notice the author pose I have going on. I’d be an awesome writer if I would only not have to actually write something)

Newspaper publishers should consider consolidating and outsourcing news operations — even overseas — to save money as revenues continue to shrink, the head of a major U.S. newspaper company said Monday.

→ USA Today: Outsourcing could be in journalism’s future.

In July of this year, the now-defunct Eureka Reporter reported that McClatchey has outsourced the copy editing of the Orange County register to India, outsourced the advertising design department of the Fresno Bee to India, and had intended to outsource the copy editing of the Miami Herald to India but ultimately changed its mind on that one.

→ Watching the watchers: Offshoring/Outsourcing Journalism: The Unstoppable Bad Idea?

Although caffeine does not produce with life-threatening health risks commonly associated with the use of classic drugs of addiction such as cocaine, heroin and nicotine, some caffeine users report becoming “addicted” to caffeine in the sense that they report an inability to quit or to cut down their caffeine use, they continue to use caffeine despite having medical or psychological problems made worse by caffeine. and they continue to use caffeine to avoid experiencing caffeine withdrawal symptoms.

→ John Hopkings Medical Center: Information about Caffeine Dependence

The motif of harmful sensation is a recurring idea in literature: physical or mental damage that a person suffers merely by experiencing what should normally be a benign sensation. The phenomenon appears in both traditional and modern stories.

→ Wikipedia: The motif of harmful sensation

Both McKinney and Bedard told me about people who took Tylenol or phosphorous, which also destroys the liver (and incidentally produces phosphorescent vomit). In both cases, they slept off the initial sickness and recovered for five days — during which time they decided suicide was a mistake after all and they wanted to live. But the liver had been destroyed and after five days each of them started to feel very sick, passed into deep coma, and died. “He knew it would happen and that there was nothing we could do about it,” Bedard said, “and his friends and family knew it, and for five days they sat in the hospital together waiting for it.”

→ How not to commit suicide, by Art Kleiner, 1981

I want you to know that I have a deep affection for you. I am deeply grateful for all your kindness. I wish I could have made a happier life for you. It was mostly my fault, please forgive me.

→ Suicide notes. ibid.

Jill Tracy – Evil night together:

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I’m looking specifically about a rejection of postmodern theory (I apologize for the broad terminology), that looks at thinkers like Foucault, Derrida, Lyotard, Deleuze, Jameson, etc etc, that accurately comprehend their arguments, and then rejects them. That is, if postmodernist thought is broadly characterized by a general rejection of singular, grand narratives and a method of critical thought that involves a disbelief in foundations — then I’m specifically interested in arguments that go against these characterizations and arguments.

→ Ask.metafilter: Anti-postmodernism for postmodernists?

1000 DJs. Performative entertainment galore

1000 DJs is a group of people at my old school that are throwing parties. Last Saturday there was an exhibition, then there was a party, and then there was an exhibition about the party (“1000 DJs, the fuckup”).

In order of appearance:

* Rainbow. The leprechaun was mugged & his gold spend on crack.
* Lovisa from STHLM doing a move.
* Making this curl took Miranda 40 minutes. Well worth it i say.
* Making this body-tag took less than 1 minute. Inflated sense of “party” might be worth it.
* Now you see it, now you don’t!
* After the destruction derby, there are words exchanged regarding the artistic value of said derby, vis-a-vi the planned two-day duration of the show
* Privacy is hard to come by, but some people are not even trying. Ah, the decadence of frolicking art students.

If there are any concerns regarding the quality of the images and so forth, I’m doing this on a windows machine for the first time, and even though Picasa has some neat features, I’m not as used to it as i am to iPhoto. Plus I’m hung over from the fuckup-party yesterday.

Oh, and later today i’m going co-carting with work and a rival company. Free food, although I suspect that they will feed me pasta and taunt me and slap me with meat.

Back in black streatchy jeans

I think i might be overestimating the streatchy-ness of my streatchy jeans. In combination with me sitting still most of the day and doing nothing but eating and playing computer games, the assilicious-ness of them soon will turn to flubber-container-ness.

So, I’ve been looking at gyms. Crap they’re expensive. And it still seems, well, extremely boring to do that kind of things, whassisname, oh right – “excercise.”

Got back to GBG a week ago, and it was a wonderful delivery from excessive heat. I landed smack dab in a two-day party that some folk threw together in the Valand yard, and although I was a bit too off to participate much, I had a great time photographing people from my studio window. Me and a poster of miffy were hiding in the darkness, throwing peanuts at all the people who were pissing behind the dumpster as there were no bathrooms available. (At a party with 300-400 guests who were all drinking beer as if they were trying to bail the Titanic. I’m still working on my metaphors).

Also, the comb-back hair-style I’ve taken to seems to be the official one. It makes me look slightly like an uppety twat, but at least my forehead gets some fresh air.

An eventful weekend

Oh oh oh! There was this show that we had! And oh oh, then mom & bro (mobro!) came visiting from Stockholm, and oh, then there was this party and a loooot of beer and oh oh oh(!) I had to work the day after! Hilarious! Oh oh oh, smelly I was, in store I standing was! Oh, and then, then I had a lot of tea and we had sushi, and mom ate way too much wasabi and her tummy ached and today is Sunday and mom and bro (mobro!) just left on a train, and now I’m sitting here and I want more coffee!

At some point during the evening Mari took my camera, I think she’s to blame.