Monday, November 21, 2011

AI! WeiWei.. lets get naked.

how are you all?

So I doubt many of the people who know me, know who Ai WeiWei is, the Chinese artist and political activist with the loveable beard and reputation that stretches far beyond the limits of a country who lives a silenced existence.
But the truth is, more of you should know him.

Earlier this year Mr Ai WeiWei was arrested and detained for 81 days by Chinese authorities without any official charges being made. What was this all about?
This is silliness I say, its like being fired from a job as a banker, when in reality you work in retail. Its mean.

Mr Awi Wei surely has a massive hand that can change the world for the better, but unfortunately he is being forced into submission by the government who seem to only want to mass produce toy-cars and dolls.

They for some odd reason, also felt the need to DEMAND that the San Diego Contemporary Museum return two marble chair sculptures built by Ai WeiWei, even though the Museum purchased the sculptures.

Now, the Chinese government is attacking him and some of his staff, regarding a photo that is apparently showing some serious pornographic tendencies.
They claim the photos is aiding in the creation and spread of porn in china.
I am sorry to say, but I doubt this photo is going to arouse anything other than some artistic boners.

See what I mean?
Nothing sexy about that other than when you finally stop looking.

Now, when Mr Ai WeiWei was released he had to pay a generously absurd amount of money as bail, as he was released on charges of tax evasion.
Mr Wei did not have the money required to pay the obscene amounts they demanded, and so supporters of the artist sent money and made generous donations, some even folding money into paper-planes and flying them over his gates and into his garden.

For those of you who would like another art boner, here is his work "Sunflower Seeds" that is the result of hundreds of hours of labour, and work from himself and small factories set up to create 100 million hand-made sunflower seeds that now lay in an exhibition space at the Tate Modern Turbine Hall in London. The piece consists of 100 million porcelain seeds, carved to look exactly the same. Mr Wei is inviting us to poke fun and to open our eyes at the same time, at the mass production that is China.

Now, I have given you a silly intro and my very basic understanding of the issues surrounding ArtReview Magazines most powerful figure for 2011.
But what I really wanted to get at, was the protest.

The world is alight with the sound of protest and occupation actions happening everywhere, and the art and music coming from the camps and protestors surprise and leave us all smiling and hopeful. From Amanda Palmer and her Uke, to the "Bat Sign" sending message of hope to the OWS protestors in the form of a projector onto a building. When the followers and enthusiastic fans of Mr Ai WeiWei heard of the outrageous of the Chinese Governments actions and claims in his "spreading of porn" by posing unsuggestively on a chair amongst 4 acceptably attractive woman [i assume its a niche market] they would not sit back.
This time they protested in a way I deem beautiful. By posting picture of themselves naekd online. Nothing suggestive, nothing sexual. Some mocking old art work and sculptures, some on the toilet, some just standing there. Some of them hide their faces and others hide their genitalia underneath images of Mr Wei's face.
Its all too beautifully alluring and fun to be considered bad.
CHECK OUT THE IMAGES HERE.. if you read chinese and can tell me what it says, i'd be ever so grateful.

Now this is enough about Ai WeiWei, because even here in my own Country we are facing a sort of inevitable destruction of our freedom.
Tomorrow Parliament in South Africa will vote on the Protection of Information Bill, if this bill passes then this basically gives the government the right to control and sensor the media. Do you want this to happen? Did not think so.
You like reading about random shit in the BEELD way to much. So show your support for #BlackFriday tomorrow, wear black. Wear black to school, wear black to work. They might argue with you, but if you don't show your support to stop this Bill, then one of these days you wont be able to even consider going against something because you would have given the government the right to control who you are, and what you view.

I will post pictures of my #BlackFriday outfit tomorrow, I will obviously be rocking it Lady Gaga style.

For now, love and peace.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Andy Warhol was a Prophet.

So, how are you all doing?
I always start these entries like I do most emails. Which probably explains why I am unemployed and really not phased.

I recently decided that if you do not spend each and every fucking moment you have online searching for quotes by people who are better than you, then you are not using the internet right. Its a simple truth.
Which is why I have decided to blog about Andy Warhol being not just a brilliantly entertaining man, a god-like artist and a super human, but also a prophet.

Now you all know how we like to think of Nostradamus or that lovely yet terribly insane Harold Camping as the only true prophets. But I am sorry to inform you all, you are wrong. Andy Warhol was a prophet in his own right. And one I'd much rather believe in.

So, lets take a look at some of his prophetic quotes.

"Everyone will be famous for 15 minutes"
If you have ever been quoted on any of the million and 4 social networks currently available for our enjoyment, then you have proved the man to speak truth. Think that time your one friend from Canada quoted something you had said on facebook and some random people commented/liked it. HONEY YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED THE FAME. it might have been a very lame version.. but it was fame. See, according to the World English Dictionary fame is listed as the following : the state of being widely known
So, if you are say in, South Africa, and your friend in Canada shared your little fart of wisdom, you have WIDELY known. for a few minutes at least.

So, some of you nay-wishers will disagree and bring up the following quotes "I'm bored with that line. I never use it anymore. My new line is "In 15 minutes everybody will be famous."
To you I have one thing to say. Twitter. Tweet to enough people, and in a few minutes your silly little words will have a few starts and some retweets. this usually doesnt last long. The man was right.

Another example of the man and his prophetic words.. is the following:
I used to think that everything was just being funny but now I don't know. I mean, how can you tell?
Now if you use twitter, you will know that NOTHING is new anymore. Things that made you laugh when you signed up a few years ago, is now nothing but a simple repetition of the same words in a different order. Reality Television for example, how many orange people do we now have to view as we sit on our couches shouting obscenities at the screen.

The next one is truth as no one can argue. How many times have you not commented on a picture of a famous person in a magazine or on facebook/twitter/beebo/hi5/myspace/friendster/myyearbook/etc saying absurd things like "omgzilike, what a K3Wl pic daWGZzz" lets all be honest here, we've all done it.
"My idea of a good picture is one that's in focus and of a famous person"
Once again, the man knew.

Now lets look at the following example:
"Sex is more exciting on the screen and between the pages than between the sheets"
I smell online dating, mxit, BBM and the regular visits to that ALL of your children are making without you knowing, just like you are.
Another example of this: "The most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet"
AND one more: "The most exciting thing is not doing it. If you fall in love with someone and never do it, it's much more exciting"
We all either have a friend, or know of someone who has gone "Omg, like.. I know we have never met. BUT HE IS THE ONE.. I SWEAR IT.. OMG OMG OMG.. FUCK.. Yeah I KNOW he is in prison for like RAPE and stuff. but he HAS CHANGED"

Now parents. This one is about your children/teenagers.
"I have Social Disease. I have to go out every night. If I stay home one night I start spreading rumors to my dogs"

And the last piece of prophecy/quote I will be discussing tonight is:
"I suppose I have a really loose interpretation of "work," because I think that just being alive is so much work at something you don't always want to do. The machinery is always going. Even when you sleep"
For this, look no further than any of your friends social networking updates. we are bombarded with useless status updates like "Omg, today was so much work, I spent like.. an hour getting my hair ready just to have that bitch Mel cancel on me, so then I drank like 3 cups of coffee, thankfully the machine made it while I took a nap on the couch, and then I spent the rest of the day on google finding things like how old Sarah J Parker is, and how many horse jokes there are that include her. Also, I then wrote an annoying blog entry about Andy Warhol and how Prophetic he was.. hahaha, I'm not prophetic but I am pathetic" [did you guys get that? I made fun of myself]

So yeah, I have to go, because I hear fireworks, but they might be the start of the rapture and I'd like to be in bed when my mother gets taken so as to spare the light my presence.

love and peace fookers.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

See that LESBIAN over there? Yeah..

Noxolo Nkosana, 23, is the latest victim of a series of violent attacks against lesbians.

I shall keep it short today.
I just wanted to quickly say something.

You guys do know what a Lesbian is right? That's a girl who finds other girls sexually appealing. some of them are teachers, others are mothers, some of them work in IT and some of them GET VIOLENTLY RAPED BY MEN WHO THINK THEY ARE FIXING THEM.

There is nothing okay about "corrective" rape.
I can not for the fucking life of me fathom the idea of sticking your dirty dick into someone AGAINST THEIR WILL, when they openly admit to being lesbian.
How are you fixing anything?

Corrective Rape is disgusting.

So, march against Corrective Rape this Saturday at JHB PRIDE.

Invite everyone. Its always fun.
peace and happiness fookers.

ps. Google it if you want to know more, its disturbing. We live in a free and open country, but still some people feel the need to destroy and bash people for accepting themselves. FUCK YOU RAPISTS.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

A curious case of neck-pain.


How are you all doing? Great.

So, I have been to many a random place below, on-top and behind many a strange stage..
But last night was an experience so odd to me, I feel it deserves a little blog.

I was at some sort of Metal show thing.
Yes, a metal show thing.
Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I'm about as metal as a couch or a potato, but for friends you will do anything. And honestly, it was rather fantastic.

HOWEVER, I feel the need to inform you all that I was probably on some far-off planet, because not only did I witness the most majestic of all creatures, the Unicorn.. I also seem to have stumbled into the cave of a Metal-Imp.

As the crowd of people whipped and banged their necks to the beat of drums and guitars screeching away into the dark smoke fueled room their hair spinning and spinning heads bobbing up and down like some drunk halloween night game.. He took the stage as his own.
He was built like an Imp with hair standing at odd ends, his head spinning with the crowd as he finger-fucked his guitar into nothingness, then he looks up and the most thundering growl escapes the little belly of the metal imp, paralyzing the crowd. Targeting my friend.

It was an experience. It was a trip into the cave and dwelling of some of the worlds most open minded and terrifyingly accepting people. A community of people thriving of the low resonating growls of a bearded man.

From the metal cults[you read bands] of tomorrow, to the ones that have been around since before metal was allowed on CD.

Though I have not been converted into a fan or follower of metal.
I have a new found respect for them.

love and such fookers.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

a very, very short story with no luggage but loads of baggage.

I sat up in my bed with nothing around me but the memories of last night. My mind felt blank as my room, the only accessories the clothes that have been seeking refuge on my floor for weeks.
I could hear the movement of another body in my house, the space was small. I could hear the movement of bare feet slowly dragging around the carpet in the spare-room and finally slapping onto the dirty white of the hallway. I imagined the pink feet turning red with each failed movement. You tried so hard not to wake me up. But every morning I would sit up in bed like this while you moved around my house. My mop of brown hair getting more and more tangled as I moved the back of my head in small circles across the material covering the headrest. You would clean up the evenings mess, even if there was nothing to clean. And I would sit up in bed pretending to be asleep. It was a sort of ritual we shared without ever realising it. The silence of the house carved this into our minds like so many stamps on a letter. It stuck to us with intent and meaning.
You had been living with me for a few weeks now. You showed up seeking safety, I asked you to stay for my own. The truth is, I had never felt more comfortable. I now sit back wondering what life was like before you moved in, even though it was no more than a month or so ago. I could not remember if I was scared of the space between the kitchen and the hallway. But the moment you showed up I realised this was the lonely spot in my house. And now I needed the slaps of your feet and the heavy breathing of your body to fill that void.
It scared me whenever I thought of this. How quickly we are to recognize a missing spot in a picture the moment we add a new face or movement.
It petrified me to believe that I was ever that lonely. In my mind there was never just me. I never got up alone in this house, eating my breakfast cereal as the morning news ran on repeat. There was only now. There was always another person ready to listen. You belonged at my kitchen table sipping beer, reading a book I would eventually tease you for picking up.

It took me no more than a few days to beg you to stay. But you told me that this was not possible. That you had places to go. You had the money and the time. I could not imagine having to be alone again. The honesty in each of your words, never belittling me.
Gently letting me down from an ideal I had carved into my own body. I scar on the body was no more than a memory with a house. And then you explained to me that memories are not to be held onto, that they were supposed to be used to create the outlines of the future. The words caught me off guard and I stumbled across each verb and noun like a drunkard.
But eventually I realized that you meant not to hurt or betray me. You only gave me what you had to give.
And I made peace with not ever having all of you, I knew after all that I would forever have a part of you, a small bit that no one else could ever have. And I figured that made it all better. That small space was better than all of you. It meant that the part of you I got to keep was more mine than anyone else would ever have. The small part I owned meant no one would ever fully have you, unless I agreed. And I knew that you had a part of me as well.

I finally got out of bed and walked into the kitchen to find you had gone. A note carefully pinned onto my refrigerator told me that much. The fridge was humming as if nothing had happened and I kicked it for its inconsideration.
I tried so hard to remember the night before you told me you would leave. I begged to have one more cup of coffee with you. One more silent debate while the sirens on an ambulance cried into the distance of our town. But you were packed and ready to go. I knew you would return months later. I knew this because you promised me. And I could feel the honesty in you promise as much as i felt the loneliness in your absence, but who was to say that I would not be in bed again. How many lives would you have come across while I was sitting at home waiting. How many beds and blankets would touch your body. You would not care. You’ve never been one for details. Much like the first painting you bought me, the first of many, it was simple and with no finer details other than the artist name. And you loved it more than me. Months from now did not feel real enough. I made songs and letters of silence to fill the time between day and night. I plastered the walls in my hall and my kitchen with pictures from magazines, photos of strangers I took on the bus, pieces of clippings about deaths in different countries, lines of poetry that read nothing more than absence of the heart to fill the walk between the different rooms of my house.

I walked back to my bed, the front door stood open as I had walked outside to see if maybe you had decided not to go. I wanted to believe that you were sitting in your car waiting for me to run out and stop you. But I saw only tracks on the gravel and the house across the road within which the old lady with the 3 cats lived.
I lay my head back onto the yellow pillows I had picked when I was new at playing house, and I sank into the deepest pool of myself I could find. And I waited.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Pray For Something Real.

I've recently received a string of emails begging me to please pray for Lady Gaga and her army of evil.
I'm not sure why I should spend my days praying for someone I don't know, to save them from an evil I openly doubt.

So let's start praying for something real, like perhaps the Rhino's?
Or the fucking brain-washed children across the globe being forced into sex-trafficking?

Every time I receive an email asking me to pray for Lady Gaga, my response is the same, are you fucking kidding me?

Let's take a look at the 'evil' Lady Gaga has done in recent years :
1. sang a song about a boy called Alejandro [we wish it was God - that way our hate seems okay]
2. She's done charity events, and stood up for gay rights.

She's obviously a vindictive evil motherfucker? <-- read it.

Now, lets take for example, the pope and our favorite dictator, Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe and famine fame.

The pope is a religious icon, even more so than we should care to admit.
He is a man that people should look up to, he should fight for the right of society and its people. But he doesn't. But we dare not argue this, he is the fucking pope after all?
The tea drinking in heaven motherfucking pope.

Now, Robert Mugabe, long time dictator, murderer and Hitler mustache enthusiast of Zimbabwe.

Guess, what. The hang out together.

Why are we not being forced to email-pray for this?

Robert Mugabe, a man that is know around the world to have KILLED millions of people, welcomed by the pope.
But we worry our pretty little heads shitless about a pop-star with weird hats and exciting lyrics.

Our children can pray and worship at the feet of the church and its leaders, but don't you fucking dare play a song about drinking a beer and having fun on the radio.

I'm not here to tell you to like Lady Gaga, or to dislike the Pope.
I'm only saying, if you are gonna send useless fucking emails about praying for someone who's done more to help the world than most of your religious institutes, google around a bit before you assume.

Its in all religions. <-- some more fun reading.

Now, if you feel the need to send an email, calling for mass prayer, then I'm down with that. Please just send me one with a 'cause worth my prayer/time.
Send me an email asking me to help/pray/donate/part-take in action groups such as save the rhino or whales. Or feed a child.
Broadcasting hate towards a person who's helping the world, then paying adoration to a cause that's done nothing but feed fear into children and adults alike, is not going to change anything.

You are wasting the time of everyone involved.

Rather go feed a poor kid, give some money to save the wild life and walk to the fucking store instead of driving your over-priced petrol guzzling ozone destroying car with your stupid bumper sticker.

If you want to make a difference, then make a real one.
Besides, I'm pretty sure you don't give a fuck about Lady Gaga's soul.

Now go spread some peace and love.


my language is terrible.
well, on this blog at least.
And I'm not talking about the cussing.

But whatever.
You live you learn.

peace and love fookers.
smile. <3

ps. a poem :

The little lovers,
How they cross the distance with such haste
How about the sky?
Hands clasped in awkward movement.
I smell their sweaty palms
Cupping each other.
It’s what they want.

The cigarette smoke
Littering their chitter-chat
An intimate party
A small dresser
And then none.

The darkened night
Kissing my face,
As he yours.
But mine with no distraction.
And then they smile.

He gently brushes hair aside,
With rusty yellowed fingers
You seem to believe all of those tiny chirps
Oh woe the silence.
One dreadful moment lost.
And you slip,
And he nips
And gone.

The little lovers,
Their feet so blistered with adore.
Their lips chapped from moments missed by all.
Forgotten yet shared.
Covered miles clinging on like baby born
In case the one should pop.
And float into the night sky towards me.
Blissfully dismissing the adoration and compassion.
Yet slightly amused.
On a dresser.
At the party
And none.

Oh woe the one
Who has not you.
Woe the one that is not yours.
For like a child he shall claw
Don’t leave me.

[there is no real deeper meaning, for once. It was a whimsical idea that I realized. Oh woe me.

p.s.s I will add pictures again soon.