Nice To See How Happy You Are Without Me, No Really… by SouthAmericanBeautyCultur
Worst Album Cover? (Sun-Sentinel)
Date submitted: 04/25/2008
from The Nova Convention (Giorno Poetry Systems, 1978)
The Talking Asshole
Performed at The Nova Convention, NYC
December 2, 1978
Emcee: Just sending up for the great uh, Frank Zappa.
FZ: Hiya. How you doin’ tonight? Alright, um, as you know, I’m not the kind of a person that reads books, I’ve said this before many times, I’m not fond of reading. But, I do, I have in the past made exceptions, and uh, one of these exceptions was this part of the, the book that, I’m sure you know, called Naked Lunch, and I’ve received permission to read the part about the talking asshole. So . . .
Before I do, uh, I’ve discussed with Mr. Burroughs before we came out here some of the details that led to the construction of this section of the book. I asked him where he got the idea for this part, and he said that it was derived from the ventriloquist scene in The Dead Of Night, if you know that film. And I had a little bit of trouble following that, for a moment there, until he made it all very clear to me by saying that uh, it was like uh, when you have a ventriloquist dummy and suddenly the dummy starts talking for you. And so, with that introduction, I start on page 132, and it goes like this (ahem.):
Did I ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk? His whole abdomen would move up and down, you dig, farting out the words. It was unlike anything I ever heard. This “ass-talk” had a sort of gut frequency. It hit you right down there like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it feels sorta cold inside, and you know all you hafta do is “turn loose”? Well, this talking hit you right down there. A bubbly, thick, stagnant sound. A sound you could smell. This man worked for a carnival, you dig, and tos tart with, it was like a novelty ventriloquist act. Real funny, too, at first. He had a number he called “The Better Oh”, that was a scream, I tell you. I forget most of it, but it was clever, like, “Oh, I say, are you still down there, old thing? ‘Nah, I had to go relieve myself!’”
After a while, the ass started talking on its own. He would go in without anything prepared and his ass would ad-lib, and toss the gags back at him every time. Then it developed sort of teeth-like little raspy incurving hooks, and started eating. He thought this was cute at first, and built an act around it. But the asshole would eat its way through his pants, and start talking on the street, shouting out it wanted equal rights. It would get drunk, too, and have crying jags, nobody loved it, an’- and wanted.. and it wanted to be kissed, same as any other mouth. Finally, it talked all the time, day and night. You could hear him for blocks, screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with his fist, and sticking candles up it. But nothing did any good, and the asshole said to him, “It’s you who will shut up in the end, not me. Because, we don’t need you around here any more. I can talk, and eat, AND shit”.
After that he began waking up in the morning with a transparent jelly like a tadpole’s tail all over his mouth. This jelly was what the scientists call “un D.T.”, undifferentiated tissue, (herr) which can grow into any kind of flesh on the human body. He would tear it off his mouth and the pieces would stick to his hands like burning gasoline jelly, and grow there. Grow anywhere . . . on him . . . grow anywhere on him a glob of it fell.
So finally his mouth sealed over, and the whole head would have amputated spontaneous.. did you know there is a condition occurs in parts of Africa, and only among negros, where the little toe amputates spontaneously?
Except for the eyes, you dig? That’s the one thing the asshole couldn’t do, was see. It needed the eyes. But nerve connections were blocked and infiltrated and atrophed, so the brain couldn’t give orders any more. it was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For awhile, you could see the silent helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the brain must have died, because the eyes went out, and there was no more feeling in them than a crab’s eye on the end of a stalk.
Frank Zappa @ hediehanvari.com
wtf, Axwell Top 5 best Dj ever !
Doctors at the Royal St James Hospital in Swindon have admitted they were disappointed after an impromptu gig by pop star James Blunt failed to awaken 8-year old Kylie Taylor from a five day coma. Instead consultants believe that for two days afterwards she was even less responsive to stimuli and may have slipped deeper into unconsciousness… [newsbiscuit.com]
There’s a little creepy house
In a little creepy place.
Little creepy town
In a little creepy world.
Little creepy girl with
Her little creepy face,
Saying funny things that you’ve never heard.
Do you know what it’s all about?
Are you brave enough to figure out?
Know that you could set your world on fire,
If you’re strong enough to leave your doubts.
Feel it, breathe it, believe it and
You’ll be walking on air.
Go try, go fly so high and
You’ll be walking on air.
You feel this, unless you kill it -
Go on and you’re forgiven.
I knew, that I could feel that -
I feel like I’m walking on air.
She has a little creepy cat
And little creepy bat.
Little rocking chair
And an old blue hat.
That little creepy girl – oh she loves to sing,
She has a little gift – an amazing thing.
With her little funny eyes of hazel,
With her little funny old blue hat.
She will go and set the world on fire -
No one ever thougt she could do that.
Flitter up
And hover down.
Be all around,
Be all around.
You know that I love you.
Go on.
I’m walking on air.
I’m walking on air.
Kerli – Walking On Air (Official Video)
KERLI | MySpace Music Videos
Empire Of The Sun – We Are The People from Music on Vimeo.
le cool magazine is a free, weekly magazine presenting a selection of concerts, djs, exhibitions, odd movies and other cultural events and happenings. It is also a clever guide to the city’s most worthwhile bars, restaurants, shopping and other experiences, without being necessarily trendy – just really good. Instead of printing and distributing a paper magazine it is sent every Thursday to its subscribers as a graphical e-mail, laid-out in a horizontal format with pages, as if it were a traditional magazine. Sign up now, it’s free and totally painless!
The new EL CULTURAL cover page! I wish to get the print version asap…
El festival abre sus puertas a la renovación…
Comienza la 56 edición del Festival de San Sebastián con la proyección de The Other Man, de Richard Eyre. El protagonista, Antonio Banderas, recibirá el premio Donostia de este año junto a Meryl Streep. En la Sección Oficial, destacan figuras consolidadas como Kim-Ki duk o Michael Winterbottom y la fuerte presencia de producciones europeas y asiáticas, proponiendo un mosaico de las tendencias que dominan en estos momentos el cine mundial. En las fundamentales secciones paralelas, la película de Woody Allen Vicky Cristina Barcelona rodada en España abrirá fuego en la jornada inaugural. Carlos F. Heredero aporta el análisis crítico en estas páginas. Otros cineastas de renombre que exhibirán sus filmes son Laurent Cantet (Entre les murs) o Jia Zhang-ke (24 City). Además, analizamos los motivos de la escasa presencia de cine español en los festivales internacionales y el escritor Antonio Soler dibuja el perfil humano de Banderas. [elcultural.es]
An emotional music and voice, san.drine will make you cry, smile or simply relax, listening to her beautiful tracks. The LP “JANVIER`” is the latest album and it’s a must-have from this Swiss artist who’s lived in New York for many years. No more comments. Just listen to her songs on san-drine.com and you may have what i call an ’audio emotional attack’. Credits:: san.drine / christian “wicked” wicht / and more on san-drine.com
Electronic review: The Prodigy, More Music For the Jilted Generation / Experience Expanded Rermixes & B-Sides
In John Niven’s novel Kill Your Friends, a scabrous satire on the late-90s music business, the Prodigy’s second album, 1994’s Music for the Jilted Generation, plays a small but pivotal role. Addled record company executive Steven Stelfox becomes so incensed when his new boss says he likes the painting on the album’s inner sleeve – a dreadlocked new age traveller giving the finger to riot police raiding an illegal rave (”like some handicapped kid’s O-Level art project,” protests Stelfox) – that he beats him to death with a steel baseball bat, then kills his dog.
Kill Your Friends, by John Niven Reviewed by Matt Thorne
