Mob Legend Hates This

Hi. It’s me, Ascendancy.  I want to share something with you that’s very special. I’ve begun drawing horsies in some of my spare time.   I showed this to Mob Legend and I said “Do you like it?” And he goes “Awww! It’s really good!” in that voice he uses when he doesn’t mean it and is talking to a girl—a voice I’ve heard him use on multitudes of females.  Therefore, he  hates it.  What do the rest of you think? In your critique, please also use the words “aesthetic” and ”faggot.”

Clouds and Butterflies,
A

Reading We’re Going To

Special Free Event at Werkstatte Gallery: May 15^th, 6:30

Eileen Myles, Kristin Prevallet, Amy Lawless and a performance from Pat Lasch.

It is our pleasure to announce that Werkstatte Gallery will be hosting a reading and performance in conjunction with its current exhibition: A.I.R Gallery Retrospective: 1972 – 1979.

The A.I.R. cooperative gallery was the first all-women’s gallery, featuring the best work from prominent artists of the downtown art scene. Our reading, featuring the talented poetry of three leading New York poets and an original A.I.R. Gallery member, offers a selection of fantastic female artists, and speaks to A.I.R.’s “Monday Night” programming: a discursive educational program that utilized a time when galleries are traditionally closed. On select Monday evenings A.I.R. opened its doors to varying speakers, performances, and how-to seminars that covered topics ranging from tax preparation to organizing a cooperative gallery.

Eileen Myles is a prolific poet, novelist, and essayist. She is also the author of, among others, Skies, School of Fish, Chelsea Girls, and more. Eileen is, by all accounts, a rock star of the poetry world- a gifted writer first but an inspiring teacher as well, and also able to say that she had a well-publicized presidential run. Her most recent book Sorry, Tree, is available from Wave Books and was published to rave reviews.

Pat Lasch was an original member of the A.I.R. co-op from 1972. Her intimate works of sculpture, painting, and prose have been featured and lauded in numerous galleries and journals. Her work incorporates narrative (starting from her childhood in Queens as the daughter of a baker), memoir, and all to create an exploration of the sexual object, the organ, the fertile, and the lonely. Her work was recently exhibited at the Zabriskie Gallery.

Kristin Prevallet’s I, Afterlife: Essay In Mourning Time is released through ESSAY BOOKS. Kristin’s prose has appeared in Fence, Riding the Meridian, Jacket, and many others, and she edited an anthology of Helen Adam’s writing, A Helen Adam Reader, which has just been published.

Amy Lawless’ work has appeared in The Agriculture Reader and Barrow Street and her work has been noted by The Best American Poetry. Her debut book of poems, Noctis Licentia, will release as the premier launch title for Black Maze Books.

WERKSTÄTTE

55 Great Jones Street
New York, NY, 10012

Subways:
6 to Bleecker Street
B/D/F/V to Broadway/Lafayette
N/R to Prince Street

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“Lars and the Real Doll” — A Donkey Dick Movie Review By Alex Smith

Hi. I’m Alex Smith. I own a sybian.

I use this so I can nap while my prostitutes (or “toots” as I like to call them) get themselves off. I have so much money that I can literally afford to NOT fuck prostitutes.

But the reason I’m writing here today is that I’m actually reviewing this movie “Lars and the Real Girl” starring Ryan Phillipe…er… I mean Ryan Gosling as Lars. The co-star of the movie is Bianca, a Real Doll. I own a Real Doll not unlike the character of Bianca. However, unlike “Lars” — I actually fuck my Real Doll. Err. But thing is, I actually just own the “Full Back Torso” model. See, I don’t find any of the Real Doll faces pretty. Each one looks like a retarded version of Liza Minelli to me, and I fucking HATE Liza Minelli.

It reminds me of the time I was at Kenwood Country Club and I actually fucked Liza Minelli who, in an odd turn of events, was allowed on the grounds despite wearing a pair of garrish sandals and (we think) jeans the color of Khaki (or as we call them in the Smith family) “Kaa-Kaa.”

Believe you me, banging Liza Minelli was a chore in and of itself, and taking off those khaki colored jeans took all of my man prowess. But her vagina was surprisingly pleasurable. So when I was touring the Real Doll facility with the inventors and my Portuguese Translator Ivan, I was surprised and dismayed. Eager to pleaser, they took me to a tiny room in the back and showed me what I consider to be their marquis product: the backless torso:

I put this shit in the trunk and take it out. I can also hold it overnight and the fibers of silicone she was constructed out of warms to the touch of human. Therefore, by morning if I play my cards right and don’t leave my seed all over her, she’s warmed to the touch and I can blindly fuck the shit out of her until Roberts drops by at 11:15 am.

Then Roberts cleans her up. It’s one of his “chores” and he’s very good at it. I don’t let Roberts fuck her because he’s sick.

But sometimes I take my nine iron and fuck the shit out her though with it. It started because when I bought her she was like teenager tight. Knowwhati’msayin?

So guess which end of the golf club i put in her? Guess? Guess? I bet you can’t guess.

Ok so I got a copy of “Lars and the Real Girl” delivered to my bachelor pad. I was hoping for some donkey stick dick wet shit. But the problem is that this movie was written with a “heart” and “Lars” never even fucking schtuck his shit up in her dick stick crypt. This movie was about human beings and their relationships with one another and every actor and actress took their job seriously so there was nothing for me to rub my dick up against. I’ll stick to my backless torso doll. Thankxkbai! This is my movie review and I am Alex Smith.

The Basics: How to Leave Roberts a Voicemail

I just found myself in the uncommon position of leaving Steve Roberts a voicemail.  It’s not common that I find myself in such a position but here I was calling Roberts and leaving him with directions to a poetry reading that we’re both attending this evening.  Roberts’ computer is broken, so when ran into him in the quad, Roberts specifically asked that I call him with the information.

However, I found myself at a loss once I phoned him, it kept ringing, and  Roberts’ phone beeped, instructing me to leave him a VM.  First, there’s something you need to know: I hate making phone calls, I hate being on the phone, I hate small idle chatter on the phone.  i love being in person with someone so I can see them.  I’m one of those annoying people who likes to “see to believe”

And there are really only 2 kinds of voicemails that I can leave someone 1) A drunk and or “jokey” VM.  Something to the tune of “What’s up with vampires? Lemme know.” Or “I fyucking love icecream man! BUT  i hate you!”  or 2) The “Logistics” voicemail.  I was leaving Roberts the latter.  The logistics voicemail always includes a time, a place, and a reason for calling. Because I am truly such a self-loathing person, I have trouble with the third kind of voicemail, i.e., the “Informational/Caring” voicemail.  This is the kind of voicemail where in you tell someone information that you think they might like, need, or enjoy.  In my mind, this is what texting and emails are for.   Everyone can attest to my wonderful emailing abilities, and I am the first to say I’m a great communicator in that medium. 

But back to basics: this post is about leaving Roberts a voicemail.  Thing is, usually I gather my thoughts and steel my soul when calling someone — whether it be my mother or father or BFF.  I have, as noted, a phobia with phoning so even if I’m calling the person whose vagina I spring out  into the world through, i’m cagey.  I’d rather just text a simple “happy mother’s day!”  and be done with it.  Or I’d rather see the person.  I make people feel special when I meet them in person, and my social stock only rises by being virtually unavailable via telephone.

So, Roberts’ phone beeps. I had planned on just reciting the information to the live Roberts.  But I found my mind wandering. “Roberts?  Is Roberts even coming to the reading?  Why can’t he just check his email like a normal person? Isn’t there a rule about not calling homosexuals before noon? How dare Roberts not pick up!  This is an outrage? Doesn’t he know who I am?”  This and many other questions were filling my mind,  logistics falling away.  So basically I left roberts a wandering voicemail, where I mention the “Bergen Stop on the G/F” like 45 times, the name of the pub was spelled out but not spoken, and I am 90 percent sure I left the time of the reading completely out of the voicemail. 

One of the reasons leaving Roberts a voicemail is irritating is that I have no incentive to organize my thoughts.  And that comes down to this: Exhibit A: The Pork Pie Hat.

 

For Realz

Hey Guys and Girls,

I’m going to be serious for a minute.  I read this morning that Saddam Hussein’s major fear of being imprison revolved around the fear of AIDS and other STDs.  That’s great Saddam.   Do you really think that you’re that attractive.  At the end of the day, I don’t care what Saddam Hussein thought about AIDS. 
What I do care about is this:

Where can I get my hands on the Selected Poems of Saddam Hussein?  Have the rights already been bought by Farrar Strauss?  Is there a bidding war?  Is there a bidding war I can get all up in?  I axe because I will be getting a tax stimulus check in the mail by September and I have decided that I would spend it on publishing Hussein’s verse.

 

Here’s an example of his cold verse. I mean stone cold.  This was the equivalent of his Japanese Death poem… his last poem ever written.:

Unbind It

Unbind your soul. It is my soul mate and you are my soul’s beloved.
No house could have sheltered my heart as you have.

The enemies forced strangers into our sea
And he who serves them will be made to weep.

Here we unveil our chests to the wolves
And will not tremble before the beast.

I sacrifice my soul for you and for our nation
Blood is cheap in hard times

We never kneel or bend when attacking
But we even treat our enemy with honor.

 

I Love You Lord Vore

I love you Lord Vore.

Hermione’s Vagione?

I love you Lord Vore.

Check it.

Money Train

Money Train is a ridiculous movie starring Woody Harrelson and Wesley Snipes. The pair play brothers (yes, raised in  Snipes’ household) who are both cops with a “fuck the man” attitude.  

 

Unless you were in this movie and were therefore on set, you probably forget that Jennifer Lopez was even in this movie.   After being fired from a pretty cakewalk style job as an NYPD, Harrelson (who as the white character is obviously dumb-er than everyone else) decides to hijack the notorious “Money train.”  As someone who lives in Brooklyn, I’ve seen the money train: it’s that yellow train that moves really slowly and you only see it when you’re wasted and too broke for a cab.  It is three times louder than other trains and is populated by multiple MTA Cops. 

According to the Gothamist, the Money Train was retired in 2006, but this is obviously an urban myth because the money has to move at some point. And there is money!  And it can’t stay in one place!!!!  EVERYONE KNOWS THAT!

Anyway, so Joe Pesci is the NYPD boss who just yells and acts annoyed. Tommy Lee Jones plays a vicious criminal who everyone can get psyched to hate. And Jennifer Lopez, well it was made when she was still a Latina and not a White Fake Latina so no one remembers it.  I can guess that her butt probably was too big for her jeans and that she was either Harrelson’s or (more likely) Snipes’ love interest.

 

Why am I bringing this up?  Well Wesley Snipes is on the mind, and I don’t feel like discussing the Blade Trilogy.   I think Wesley Snipes will have a great time getting raped in jail.  Or rather….RAPING!  It’s fun to start raping the government by not paying taxes.  And then  it’s fun to move on to raping stockbrokers in Cupcake Camp Prisions! HAHHAHAHAHa

Eleanor made my ugly into something pretty!

Isn’t she talented? Wow.

Danica from Wonder Years Winnie is so fucking hot ohmigodiamso hotforher

If I Had A Million Dollars

Super Pii Pii Brothers (Cool Ranch for the Cool Kids)

 

I’m a woman.  I can’t change that.  Wouldn’t want to. I will never pee standing up or shoot a load 1 maybe 2 feet.  When I pee in the park, it takes not only a tree to lean against but also the courage of Mother T herself, along with the clarity to accept that some might drop on my new green high top sneakers.

 

 

But who is the real “market” for super Pii Pii brothers? If i had a dick, i’d pee on things myself. I wouldn’t need underpants console. So the market can’t be boys.  Although, maybe if they switched it up to be a “dirty Dorito contest” it could be a jerk off game. … and it could be performed without the chances of being forced to actually eat the dorito.  You’d just  lose the  game!  “Game over fat ass! at least you’re not having a protein shake.”

 

I grow weary. I grow weary with the idea of that video game. 

 

 

 

Goddammit Roberts!

Roberts sent this to me the other day.  I think he’s trying to “send a message.”   Uh, there’s only one David Cho and it ain’t him.

 

 

Submit to this.

Remember Nogood Boyo?  He is our friend who won the dirty limerick contest.   Well, he’s cool and has some cool stuff happening.  Let’s spread the word.

 

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

Contact:
Connor Coyne
The Gothic Funk Nation
connor@hereisnowhy.com
http://gothicfunk.org/triannual
NEW JOURNAL CREATED TO PROVIDE HAVEN FOR ART OF THE MOMENT

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS. 1 February 2008.

The Gothic Funk Nation (a movement advocating the transcendence of the deconstructive instability endemic to latter 20th century artistic criticism) has this week launched a new thrice-annual journal to publish and sustain conscious and unconscious advocates of its contemporary idiom. Submissions are now open in the categories of IMAGES (painting, drawing, photography, video, etc.), SOUNDS (music, sonic experimentation, spoken word), and WORDS (poetry, prose, theater, nonfiction, stories). We are flexible in accepting many different forms and functions, lengths and types, but we expect submissions to undertake a proactive, optimistic, and engaged attack on indeterminacy, even if they are uncertain of the outcome.

The Gothic Funk movement was conceived in the November pre-election distress of Chicago’s North and South Sides. Founding members included artists, scientists, and temp workers. Frustrated by the obfuscation and lack of rigor in current critical theory, they tried to posit solutions, beginning with a series of parties that framed social interaction as mysteries of cultural intimacy. Subsequent efforts have included public epistles, artistic projects, and more parties (because parties are fun).

Your creative work may be submitted at http://gothicfunk.org/triannual
You may learn more about our project and its history (four years running) at http://www.hereisnowhy.com/gothicfunk

For additional information, contact Connor Coyne at connor@hereisnowhy.com