| First off I went
to Luxx again on Friday night but it was way too crowded this time.
A few weeks ago I mentioned it here and since then there's been a story
on it in New York Magazine and a cover story on HX. I hate trendyness.
Young scenes get ruined by this sort of exposure. Remember how pop
culture killed grunge? In any case, I must point out that this whole buzz around 'Electro' is great but the so-called 'Electro' people are buzzing about isn't Electro in the classic sense. Maybe whoever named this new 'genre' wasn't familiar with the original Electro . The 'Electro' of Luxx is fun but its more like New Wave than classic Electro. An awkward but more descriptive name might be Electronic-Punk-Pop. Unlike classic Electro, this new 'Electro' seems almost exclusively white. Perhaps it is up to me, a raceless robot, to inject some old-school black futurist appeal into this 'new' genre. Its a pity that old school Electro stands to be even more forgotten. Onto other things.. my weekend was a mix of trannies, leather daddies, a slave, a hot thug and Teena Marie, who according to the NY Times (always late) is only now enjoying a resurgence in popularity. You kids be careful with her. Other than the thug, I'm currently being courted romantically/sexually by two fashion designers. I don't like fashion people. They are usually vapid and self-important, and that's my job. They are 7 years equidistant from my age in opposite directions, and neither shares my taste in music. I was shocked that neither of them knew this song: 'Heart and Soul' by T'Pau I want you to play this clip loud and revel in the glory of crisp FM synthesis and loud 80s snare drums. Obey me. No analog bleeps here. Just clean late 80s radio magic. As for my suitors, I'm really not a very good person to date. I get bored very quickly. I'm extremely rude. I'm not fun to be around. I'm terribly selfish. I'm a burden. I'm heartless. I'm a tease and a slut at once. Boys, beware. I don't mind the solitude I feel around others. I received a query last week:
Since you did not sign your email, I shall call you 10101001011101010110101010 . 10101001011101010110101010, I have you and others tricked into thinking I'm fabulous. I'm not. I fake it. I am nothing special and may not even exist. I'd give everything I had to a person who could prove I existed. And then I'd kill myself. Living is a fantasy.
We have no way of knowing that we're thinking. Claiming that we do is like measuring the speed of time and using time itself as the measuring unit. Time is relative to the entities who experience it. We can't measure time at two seconds per second, for example. Likewise we cannot be sure that we think because its only thought itself which supposes that we do. Certainly our own thoughts aren't objective in this case. At most, we can only be sure that we think that we think. But I digress. You wonder how you can be as fabulously, foolishly, heartlessly robotic as I am. 
Have you seen The Wizard of Oz? Its about an otherworldly robot who sees himself as an 'empty kettle'. His creator didn't give him a heart and so he seeks the great Wizard of Oz who he supposes can give him one. Yours is the opposite quest. You come to the great House of Diabolique not to gain a heart but to lose the heart that you have. At the end of The Wizard of Oz, the Tin Man realizes he had a heart all along. Likewise, it is possible you don't have the heart you so wish to expunge. Yours is the wiser quest. How foolish is the Tin Man? Of what use is a heart? People you love can hurt you more than people you hate. Better to let others love you. Should not the Tin Man's discovery of a heart turn the movie into a tragedy?
The Tin Man and his compatriots spend most of the movie on a dangerous quest because they think they don't have the things they are seeking - a brain, courage, home, a heart. What they've thought is more important than what's real. The mechanical 'heart' given to the Tin Man by the Wizard is simply a heart-shaped clock. Meaningless. The Wizard of Oz ended up being an old man behind a curtain. He tricked people into thinking he was a great and powerful wizard using smoke and mirror. His power was an illusion. His power was illusion. Today I give you neither love nor heart nor soul but rather the knowledge that illusion is power. As it was for the Wizard of Oz, it is for the House of Diabolique. And so it can be for you. |
'Just an Illusion' by Imagination
From DJ Magazine:
Here's our latest guestbook signing:
|
Why aren't you writing (and posing) for really big magazines? You
are a breath of fresh recirculated air. Quentin Crisp meets The Borg
and has a makeover on Oprah, then kills her. Who could ask for more? I
came "out" as a teenager in the '70s -- Ziggy, Alladin Sane, Diamond Dogs
- you bring back all of Bowie's Brecht-fest at Tiffany's. Met Ru, met
Candice Cayne once,Craig Russell, Charles Pierce, all them queenz. But
YOU, you. Well, you've found your century and I hope you exploit it. Bug mwah! Guy, Vancouver |
| There you have it. Two
more tricked into thinking this is all worth something. Thank you Guy. If only there were a way I could make money pretending to be me. I'm not sure society smiles upon people who neither have a heart nor exist. Who would you rather be? 
|
until next week, remember..
Real Audio is required
to hear
anything.