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» moohk on Thu 31 Jul, 2008 @ 6:20am
Title:Art Proposal (Monks With Sticks/Sex, Lies, And Videotape)
Posted On:2008-07-31 06:20:06
Posted By:» moohk
(this could use a revamp. alfie's either at the bottom of the ocean in atlantis or in toronto or something - basically, i guess we could say 'if art were a contest', he lost?. anyways. any one want to collaborate with me?)


Art Proposal (Monks With Sticks/Sex, Lies, And Videotape)

Date: Sat Jan 11, 2003 5:05 am (*it is still fucking relevant and it still hasn't been fucking funded *if* you needed proof of whether it still has its edge. anyways, are you questioning me?)


THE GRANTFIELD FOUNDATION, ARTISTS ADRIENNE MOOHK AND ALFRED PRIME NUMBER PRESENT:

MULTI-MEDIA PRESENTATION PROPOSAL. FUND US NOW.

PLEASURE SEEKING IS BUT THE ABSENCE OF DESIRE. THE FACT OF EXISTENCE IS ITSELF PLEASURE, HENCE SEEKING PLEASURE IS EMPTY CORN, YOUR HOLLOW LIVES. US, WE LIVE IN BLISSFUL ACTUALITY. SO, OUR PROJECT IS EXPERIMENTAL WITH GRAVE (LIKE BURIED IN A) CONSEQUENCES. NO MERE REVERSAL, THOUGH PERHAPS COMPLETE ANNIHILATION OF SOMEONE'S SANITY (NOT IT). WE ATTEMPT DISPLEASURE IN FINE FORM. VEXATION/ AFFLICTION/ DISTRESS. ALF (22 ODD YEARS OF SELF-INFLICTED CONSCIOUS PAIN + 2ND HAND CORDUROY) + MOOK (LIES + SWEETNESS + INNOCENCE + A BIT OF A MIND-FUCK + YOUR SALVATION) + LYSERGIC ACID DIETHYLAMIDE + 2 DRUM SETS + VIDEO CAMERAS + PROJECTION SCREENS + 8 MICROPHONES + A CRYING BABY + MAGIC PIANO + SPEAKERS + ENCLOSED SPACE + LACK OF PRIVACY + WAR IS EVERYWHERE + 3RD FLOOR OF TALL BUILDING WITH GLASS WINDOWS + SYNTHESIZERS + DISTORTION PEDALS + 1 GUITAR + EFFECTS PROCESSOR + POLAROID CAMERA + NO HOPE IN HELL + DOGS, TOGAS, & A STAFF. WE BRING YOU ANGST, AESTHETIC SHOCK, POWERFUL DISGUST & SEXUAL AROUSAL. BEYOND THE CLICHE'D 'DESTRUCTION IS A CREATIVE PROCESS' (HOW AVANT-GARDE IS THAT ANYMORE?); CREATIVE PROCESSING OF DESTRUCTION IS. EMBRACE DISORDER, LET'S TAKE A RIDE. THIS IS UNSELF SELF-CONSCIOUS POLITICAL IDEOLOGY. THIS IS LUNATIC MISCHIEF OF THE VERY WORSE KIND. A GLEEFUL AGGRESSIVE TENDENCY. OVERCOME YOUR TOURISM AND JOIN US, ALBEIT FROM A DISTANCE PLEASE & THANKS.

GO AHEAD, SEND COMMENTS, QUERIES, FEEDBACK. BUT FIRST:

SEND US MONEY NOW.

OR ANY PROPS SUFFICE. WE'LL RETURN THE FAVOUR.

IN SMOLDERING CHAOS CONSPIRACY.

Re:

This Is Not A Rave Party

this is not a proposal for an event. this is not a pyschedelic 60's 'happening', either. and it most certainly is not a fucking rave-party. after years of anti-art art school and a recent short conversation about where alphie 'is at', we've imagined this multi-media art project, transpiring within approximately 11 days time. this is planned art sabotage, avoiding all recognizable art categories. the context: i, adrienne moohk, have stopped eating, taking drugs, and drinking (some sort of quest for either a: a) cheap high, b) earlier death, c) purification, d) disapearance, e) performance art, f) forgetfullness, or g) does it matter? alphie joe primeau, while still eating, does not experience much else but psychic pain. while most make all sorts of banal attempts at 'finding themselves', alphie and i have known since day one all to well who we are, and what we will become. this no search. this is a catalyst. incitation, stimulant, impulse. destruction through creation, we're to experiment whether alphie will get through this. it's high time. the banishment of illusion enhances awareness. there is no pretense of philosophical underpinnings. this is psychotherapy. art, psychiatry, and chemistry. is there a better combination? (besides the previously mentioned recipe of moohk)? alphie has entrusted me to 'fix' him, and who better to do the job. of course i'll resume sessions for any one else who seeks treatment. unless i'm a lifeless corpse, a gaseous form, or a chrysthemum by the window, waiting to be watered. and yes <>, the material is old don't you get it? and i suspect perhaps we've a dogmatic new age neo-facist in our midst, what with all this rhetorical propaghanda. now why don't you explain to us why transcendance must always be so fucking incandescent, because that sounds likes to me like some kind of imposed truth-paradigm with a capital 'T', either that and/ or you're trying to split our brains with light and repetition for mind control. what's next? streets, rivers, cities, parks named after you? call it epcock if you want, i call it epsymbolic order; out with the old, in with the new age.

anyways, kids, the point is this. SEND US MONEY NOW. we're trying to live without dead time, as they say. criminal art everyday, to optimize conditions for the insurrection. fuck the man. and if you send us money, you'll experience the fun in a mediated fashion. unless it inspires you (and how couldn't the end results/ consequences not inspire you. jail. insanity. drool. blood. trauma. documentation. 20/20. the rest of our lives). want to participate in an immediate way? send us props. like i said, we WILL return the favour.

Listening To: diamanda gallas remixed by bryan adams

» BomBolenath on Sat 26 Jul, 2008 @ 3:12am
Title:She's A Killer Queen
Posted On:2008-07-26 03:12:36
Posted By:» BomBolenath
She keeps Moet et Chandon
In a pretty cabinet
'Let them eat cake' she says
Just like Marie Antoinette
A built-in remedy
For Khrushchev and Kennedy
At anytime an invitation
You can't decline

Caviar and cigarettes
Well versed in etiquette
Extraordinarily nice

Chorus:
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, Gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime

Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite
Wanna try?

To avoid complications
She never kept the same address
In conversation
She spoke just like a baroness
Met a man from China
Went down to Geisha Minah
Then again incidentally
If you're that way inclined

Perfume came naturally from Paris
for cars she couldn't care less
Fastidious and precise


Chorus:
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, Gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime


Drop of a hat she's as willing as
Playful as a pussy cat
Then momentarily out of action
Temporarily out of gas
To absolutely drive you wild, wild
She's out to get you


Chorus:
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, Gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime

Recommended at the price
Insatiable in appetite
Wanna try?
You wanna try.

» uglyposergirl on Mon 21 Jul, 2008 @ 9:50pm
Title:psychedelic experience
Posted On:2008-07-21 21:50:09
Posted By:» uglyposergirl
i am trying really hard to simply just be. i find it funny to have a psychedelic experience because i leave my body for a bit and then i come back and sometimes i'm not sure if it's really me or if it's because of those that surround me. like seeing the light and then not sure exactly what to make of my experience. the more and more you think about it the more you become lost. i think it's more in the now, just do what you know is you because you do it spontaneously, without hesitation or thought attached to it. i think i am able to see what there is beyond, but i find it difficult to connect between the mind and body; what my mind feels is incredible, i am growing my own garden within my reality, but it's really rare that i can really let out my magic through my body. i think i'm afraid to not be accepted being who i am, moving how i move, acting how i act.
i think all i need to do is really just accept and love who i am, because i know that i have so much to offer. i know that i can really create magic in the moment, all that's missing is certainty within myself so that i can show what there is inside this soul. i feel so close to being complete.
i am so happy to share my life with someone who is so willing to grow and evolve and share with me. together we can really do anything.

» ikce on Sun 20 Jul, 2008 @ 3:16am
Title:Sa vous interesseras peut-être pas mais ...
Posted On:2008-07-20 03:16:36
Posted By:» ikce
J'avais le gout d'écrire sa :


Ya longtemps que j'ai pas écris ici pour vraiment dire quelque chose.

Du moins, quelque chose a propos de moi. Bon, on vas faire sa dans le genre "chus qui". So ..

Eric, c'est mon nom. Mais beaucoup de gens m'appelle ecki. En soit, c'est un surnom. Comme J-F ou Sly ... mettons. J'en suis a ma 5eme année de raver, même si durant les deux dernière années on été plutôt tranquille. J'ai arrêté du jour au lendemain! J'angoissais, pour tout et rien.

Faut dire que la drogue a pas vraiment aidé ...

Les raves en eux mêmes et ce qui les entour me stressais énormément. Pour compenser j'mixaix souvent, beacoup et longtemps. Chez nous.

Sa fait 3 ans que j'mix, Gabber et Uk hardcore.
J'ai migrer lentement vers le Uk hardcore. De gabber head a fan de fif-core haha.
Je maitrise bien les deux style et j'adore les mélanger! J'compose pas par contre, sa prendrais trop de mon temps.

J'sort pas beaucoup, j'vais que très rarement dans les bars et la plupart de mon temps j'reste chez moi la fin de semaine avec Melina, ma blonde.

Parlant d'elle, cette année nous avons fêter notre 4eme année en tant que couple!
Amours, peine, joie, partage, amitié, responsabilité et épreuves. Mais surtout, partage. On a eu des périodes plutôt difficile.
La plupart du temps j'en étais la cause!

Mais, avec le temps, nos efforts et la patience de Mel, on a passer au travers. C'est tu pas beau ça? Ah ouais, autre point important, la compréhension et l'écoute.

Ma blonde est probablement la personne qui me ressemble le moins. Nous sommes, sur plusieurs points, totalement différent.

Pour ma blonde, un ordi faut que sa marche. Pour moi, faut que sa "torche"!

Ouan.

J'pense que sa résume très bien la situation actuel pour ce qui est de moi. En tout, je parle des choses qui m'occupe le plus!

Mit à part bien sur de la job.
Je suis livreur de colis (s.v.p. ne faite pas faire l'erreur de penser au mot "calice") à Montréal. (ne pas non plus penser que qu'il ne faut pas du tout ne pas penser au mot calice en étant a Montréal).

Voyez-vous le genre de truc qui me passe par la tête quand j'parle? Pour ceux qui on pas compris défiler plus bas pour reprendre ou vous étiez rendu une fois que vous avez su que j'étais livreur a Montréal. Tout sa pour dire que en bout de ligne j'aime jouer sur les mots. Mais a chaque ligne, ya un point ;)


Je commence a 5h15 et termine la plupart du temps vers 18h.

Alors pour résumer, c'est moi.

Eric en bref était une présentation de lui même.


Et pour terminer je vous citerais une ligne d'une toune que j'aime bien,

"I'll see you on a dancefloor"

ecki


On a tous quelque chose a dire..

Listening To: d'la musique

» John.A on Thu 17 Jul, 2008 @ 3:58am
Title:Provocation....et merci.
Posted On:2008-07-17 03:58:22
Posted By:» John.A
Message pour te dire merci.


Chaque geste, chaque parole qui m'est arriver de dire ou faire, que ce soit dans le passé, le présent ou dans un futur incertain, je les assumes. Pas que je sois fière de la totalité d'entre-eux mais, au moins j'ai la prétention d'affirmer que je vis ma vie. Que cette entité à part entière que j'adore et déteste, je la provoque, la mange, la digère... Il y a trop de zombie sur terre, trop de non-fait. Ayant la bile comme arrière-goût, cela me fait pleurer. Pleurer pour vous et aussi, pour moi. Pleurer pour tout ce qui ne se passe pas, ne se crée pas, n'évolue pas. Il est si facile de rester assis dans son carré bien défini. Être satisfait de ce que l'on a, ne jamais chercher à avoir plus. Êtes-vous satisfait de votre pelouse? Pleinement satisfait? Pour ma part, je préfère me jeter en bas du pont, vouloir mourir et me tuer. Plus aucun regret de non-fait. Vieillissant prématurément, les mains d'un homme de soixante-dix ans, je troque mon habit de zombie ignorant pour celui de clown titubant. Fière de porter ce costume, j'essaie de vous aborder en tout lieu et en tout temps. Et vous? En êtes-vous capable? Vous qui êtes assis bien confortablement dans le noir, sourire aux lèvres, riant dans votre barbe sur la façon, que vous jugez débile, que j'ai à tourner en rond. Croyez-moi je ne vaut pas plus que vous. J'exprime ce que je crois être bon, ce que je crois juste. Cette lettre ouverte n'est que provocation. Si il yen a que deux parmis vous tous qui a envie de me suivre et tourner en rond avec moi, alors mon but sera atteint. Essai naïf de créer quelque chose, de mettre les fondations pour un nouveau monde. Si vous préfèrez rester assis, je ne vous en voudrez pas et vous aimerez quand même. Pour vous le prouvez, je serai votre clown de service, juste pour votre sourire.

Peut importe ou cela me mènera, le petit peu que j'ai connu de toi me satisfait amplement . Cette provocation est aussi un remerciement, une façon de te dire: "je t'aime" à ma façon. N'ayant rien de "spécial", n'étant que moi... Je m'éclate et m'assois. Me demandant qui peux-tu bien être réellement, à savoir si tu as du temps, un peu de vide à combler. Moi, j'en ai. Tranquillement. Inconsciemment, tu provoques les choses. En reconnaissance, je provoque à mon tour....

» Zimmermau5 on Wed 16 Jul, 2008 @ 6:53pm
Title:I like Monkeys
Posted On:2008-07-16 18:53:25
Posted By:» Zimmermau5
I like monkeys.

The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that
odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to
look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.

I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His
name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really
bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed.
Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.

I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new
environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at
high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the
spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.

Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive:
they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead.
Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn
cheap monkeys.

I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my
room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked
like I had 200 throw rugs.

I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.

I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for
a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real
bad.

I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want
to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.

I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately
there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change
them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so
it didn't all go bad.

I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to
extinguish the fire.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in
my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor
wasn't improving.

I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the
bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.

I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't
allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet
one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the
frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My
friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like
them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in
the genitals.

I like monkeys

» MolocH on Tue 15 Jul, 2008 @ 9:12am
Title:Downfall.
Posted On:2008-07-15 09:12:39
Posted By:» MolocH
What am I supposed to do? WHy do I even care. All I want is gone, the only thing that'll put my mind at ease is genuine concern. Inconditionnal concern. But my eyes are crusted over with a corpse. Oh such a lovely corpse, but still nothing but a mangled mess of hurt, scabs, and sweet sticky candy melting in my hands. Making my fingers stick to everything, leaving sugary finger prints all over the blueprint of my recovery.

I doubt everything I know about me. About her. Even my lust is misdirected. I love the other ones in her sake. So she has peace of mind, knowing that's I'm trying hard to get over this mess.

But I ain't.

When the lights go out, and the sweat is pouring, do you think of me like I think of you? When you see me break inside, not able to contain my loss, do you hate me like I do? When you cry, do you miss me?

I do.

It's a brave new world, without the Soma.
It's the end of the world, without relief of destruction.
It's the fire without the heat.
It's all I have left.


Locked in my box, red, black and white.
Blocking out most of the light.
In hopes that one day I might,
Again stand tall and bright.

But still I can hear.
Softly whispered in my ear,
Those words that don't belong:

"Baby, what's wrong ?"...

I guess you'll find out before long.

Rules mean nothing anymore.
I will do what I want, when I want.
I know I can, I have.
To get caught for pleasure only,
My evil showing on purpose.
You call it revenge, I call it revolution.
Revenge is empty until intent is spoken.
Revolution happens, whether you look at it or not.

I don't need to hide.
I don't need to love.
I don't need to fear.

But I do.

Listening To: Everything Evil, Coheed & Cambria.

» Djinthebox on Sun 13 Jul, 2008 @ 7:30pm
Title:booker , manager wanted !!!
Posted On:2008-07-13 19:30:05
Posted By:» Djinthebox
HI! I'm looking for booker, manager
Spinning hard trance similar as Sean Tyas, Tom Colontonio, Sophie Sugar etc...

Producing my own music (available on www.myspace.com/deejayinthebox)

To contact Dj In The Box! e-mail to dj_in_the_box@hotmail.com

» Cyberbru on Sun 6 Jul, 2008 @ 10:32pm
Title:???
Posted On:2008-07-06 22:32:42
Posted By:» Cyberbru
How the hell can I delete that account???!!!

Listening To: no one