from Changeling
hot five
Ideally, pornography would involve some/all of the following. Really, it never does. I don’t know why. I’m sure my desires are pretty universal.
1. Electricity Substations
Hit me in the belly like my own little Hansel n’ Gretel Witch House in the Forest every time
Alluring or what? They are incongrous and sort of creepy. They have come hither razor fencing and sexy signs. They exist purely to have slightly precarious sex in or against. Fact.
2. Forced Hair Wash
See this picture? It’s shit. It reflects my fruitless trawling of the internet etc for some relief/research. You want to see gay clown diseased foot wanking? Or maybe fat girl fucked by monster snake thru cat flap? Then come on in! But if you’d rather look at some cute, dishevelled guy – perhaps a bit sedated, definitely with a little low quality crackle and fuzz – get his hair washed against his will (and who doesn’t huh?) THEN SHOOT IT YOURSELF, PERVERT.
(No, water – boarding doesn’t count)
3. Bowie Police Mug Shot
This picture is on the wall of my landing, next to the bathroom. There’s some thought behind that positioning, I’m sure.
It’s definitely for real, but who looks that cool and collected in a police photo? He was brought in for marijuana possession. His amused and aloof expression/hairstyle says:
“You have arrested me for smoking pot – what I was actually doing was depraved and illegal beyond your wildest imaginings”
He’s really pleased.
All the visitors to the bathroom are, without exception, distracted from their original intention by the super-hotness of this image.
The ink-monster thing on the left there kinda works for me too.
4. Broken Clavicle X-Rays
I love collar bones. I especially love collar bones which create indentations profound enough to keep ‘something’ in.
I also enjoy seeing the things I love destroyed and mangled, particularly when the evidence is so aesthetically and erotically pleasing. I’d like to share some of my well thumbed favourites:
They work on a lot of levels.
I’ve never broken my own collar bone, I’m sure I will one day.
5. KITTEN
My old Guitar Hero avatar is called KITTEN. I’m not tech savvy enough to grab an image of him. It’s an old school set up involving a Playstation II and a LOT of cables, so the only thing would be to plug the whole thing in and take an actual...
I can’t believe I just did that. The picture doesn’t do him justice; he’s a more than the sum of his parts kind of guy.
If I ever need to think about a ‘person’ during sex, instead of something more abstract like pirates or mining accidents, then KITTEN is my first choice. I wrote this about him here: http://myflooredblog.blogspot.com/2010/04/guitar-hero.html
__________
from David
DC's ( 2005-2010),
You've been buzzed!
__________
from L'étranger
http://ltgpanik.blogspot.com
This weeks show WAS intended for last week, the heaving vertical scroll form a gift for DC's blog 5th birthday party, but illness stepped in the way. I've followed DC's blog on and off since day one, primarily as a lurker... being by nature one who likes to watch... and been turned on to many mighty thoughts and things. So here it is one week... a kind of late reply, many happy returns! A tinker with radio narrative construction / narrative-potential using a random cull of the favourites from L'étranger's You Tube channel as source. Sliced and diced with a few random simple present overthrows and mixed completely live LIVE LIVE by your noble correspondent.
__________
from Chris Goode
This is a video sequence from Hey Mathew, a theatre piece I made a couple of years ago in collaboration with the actor Jonny Liron and with contributions from a number of other writers and artists including Dennis and distinguished locals Thomas Moore and Kier Cooke Sandvik.
The piece was kind of (and simultaneously kind of not) about the relationship between the queer American writer and thinker Paul Goodman (1911-1972), and his son Mathew Ready Goodman, who was killed in a climbing accident in 1967 at the age of 21. This 'Afterlife' sequence imagines a letter written to Paul by Mathew after his death.
All of the video is excerpted from establishing and transitional shots in mostly European gay porn films. The text is spoken by my friend, actor-director David Chapman; the quality of the recording he sent us is not great, but we decided we kind of liked that, so we kept it as it was.
For me, the whole of Hey Mathew -- which is probably the piece I'm proudest of in fifteen years as a theatre maker -- is inextricably associated with this blog -- not just because of Dennis's and Tom and Kier's direct involvement, but because there's no way I'd have made a piece like it without the influence of the blog and the people who hang out here. DC's has made me more intrepid as an artist, more open as a person, more restlessly queer, and readier to face the world.
__________
from Matthew Williams
Here's a picture and (some extracts from) a story to wish the blog a happy birthday. ... Hope you and the blog have a blast and lots of love and respect for what you do. The story I've sent, Ladder, is on my blog in full and I'll add more of my writing and images as I go.
There’s a prison in my dreams. At first you’d think it wasn’t so bad; that it was an open prison – the type where people can do ceramics and gardening and escape. I get shown around it once a year at least, maybe more – I’m a prospective client, someone who could have sent a wing-full of convicts by now. I see the drive and the empty and dead green playing fields that stretch for a half a mile around the buildings. I see the reception, and it’s polished, and high ceilinged, and immaculate as always; there’s only ever a girl behind the desk – a young woman, no paperwork.
They do the tour, and it’s without odours of overcooked vegetables and only boys in orange or grey uniforms that let you pass in the corridors. You’d think it was an open prison until you got to the gymnasium, which has the highest vaulted ceilings and air full of floating boys like the stack of planes for Heathrow.
They’re not moving. They’re suspended and mostly naked, or in underwear that saw better days. The light in the windows is white as heaven and they’re being screwed tighter to their place in the heavy air; they’re being screwed tighter by nothing. They’re screwed tighter every day and they’ll never leave.
(from Ladder - Matthew William)
It was ok, breathe, it was ok – there was black and red and white and there was Marc; there were Marc’s white sock feet and his ankles and the rest of him hidden by the wall. There were his ankles and white sock feet like those photographs of people who spontaneously combusted, and white and red and black, and now I don’t understand why that boy even looked to me.
I just saw myself in the bathroom mirror for too long - banging on the door, and people saying come on - and I’d hoped to burn holes in my eyes.
(from Ladder - Matthew William)
Yesterday there was a funeral for two porn stars and everyone in Turkey pretends they weren’t gay and American; their smiling faces flap from pennants strung between first floor windows. People wear black and go about their business quietly and you can do what you want behind closed doors.
We’re walking around – whispering in lifts and metro stations, and wearing the darkest things we packed because we flew before they died – and I don’t know where Jarek is. It’s embarrassing; we haven’t seen him since the tram and no one’s saying anything. My family are pretending he’s two steps behind, and I keep looking like I’m behind me; pretending I know he’ll appear any second and not that he’d rather be somewhere else. That he’d rather not be with me.
(from Ladder - Matthew William)
Sometimes Marc says a song reminds him of when he was young. That’s when I feel like I’m looking at the sun and also like he’s dead. I put on Last FM hours ago and let it run, same as always, but for the first time I have headphones in and the wire doesn’t bother me because I’m barely moving. I’m threading red and black and white lines over and over again and I don’t even notice the songs I’d skip when I’m being normal, alive – trying to edit.
We moved to Brighton because we never went out anyway. We have it in our windows: the burned pier and the stones and the sky and the sea. We’re right next to the burned pier. If you go down there at night with a camera and shoot without the flash the struts left behind look like something from the dark ages. If you put your hood up, and light your face with a mobile screen, you could be one in a chain of people that do black arts. Men, not people.
Anyway, Marc won’t leave the flat and we don’t do that anymore. But he looked ok with his hood up. He didn’t make his face when I showed him the picture, didn’t look away, and we said we’d make the photos properly another night – we’d shoot properly – and we didn’t do that; we don’t do that and I don’t care.
I make stuff and so does he. We do it at separate ends of the room, or side by side, or in different rooms mostly now – he says he’s stopped liking the window of sea except before dawn, and I usually have that part. I’m here now, convinced that under the bed is a tunnel. From one side it’s a tunnel to shoot you to sky on waves and from the other it goes somewhere calmer, although there’s a thing to read first, and the shadow it’s in looks cold. It is cold – you put your fingers out and it blows to shiver – so I don’t go there, even though the other side looks white and gold and more appealing than the sky.
(from Ladder - Matthew William)
__________
from Nicholas Messing
A Collage I Made- Happy Birthday Blog
___________
from Sailor
Hey D.Cs,
I'm a longtime lurker and huge fan. I hope my gifts inspire someone in the heartbreak hours and that this is the start of a beautiful friendship : )
myfavouritepornstar
megalomania
I write therefore i feel therefore i am. So what? Go ahead. Externalise the internal to beg a pardon, to stand apart. To stand on a stage. Otherwise you'll die without having existed. With God good and dead the only limbo is history and even limbo must be better than discontinuation... surely...
Everything everything you do is fear of the void. Everything you create is an attempt to literally escape from hell. But then what? In it all goes - assumed knowledge, worthless treasures, deranged chemical reactions. Throw the soil over. Soul is memory and body is dust.
Why are we so afraid to disappear?
"..The most violent thing of all for us is death which jerks us out of a tenacious obsession with the lastingness of our discontinuous being. We blench at the thought that the separate individuality within us must be suddenly snuffed out... We cannot imagine the transition from one state to another one basically unlike it without picturing the violence done to the being called into existence through discontinuity..."
'Eroticism' - Bataille
Love from Sailor xxx
__________
from Uli
Happy Birthday!
__________
from Magick Mike
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQUN7QAnMp0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5_Rj2zKMy4
http://www.callaighe.com/photo_archive/A%20&%20M.htm
http://ezri.50megs.com/tagline/tagline.html
http://www.amazon.com/Particularities-A-Universal-Syllabus/lm/7V4MXXKPISGK/ref=cm_lmt_srch_f_2_rsrsrs0
http://lightningtelegrams.net/index2.html
http://www.galerie-raskolnikow.de/paddavis/pages/Hamlet2.html
http://www.ellenrogers.co.uk/
http://blaxploitationjive.blogspot.com/2009/03/sun-ra-discography.html
http://www.publiccollectors.org/Toche_IAccuse.pdf
__________
from Pascal
Clothbound & spoon-shaped (ten for DC's)
I
weekend to write=
felt depressed kind of suddenly
weekend with nobody
(been a long
time
&
am describing the present
)
Dave called
Marc called
My mother called
I called Dave
I called Glenn
Kate called
I called Kate
I called Marc
Theresa called
I called my mother
I called Conor
I called Marc
Marc called
I called Dave
I called Marc
Marc called
I called Dave
Dave called
II
chronological unravelling:
The inevitable is what you’re doing or have done.
The fantastic is simply what you didn’t do.
Jean Rhys, Voyage in the Dark
III
saturday mornings
when I’m not working at the library
I go running
with the lesbian and gay club
this morning
this guy
one of the ones
for having him in it
the universe ought to be thanked
IV
Sunday now
&
writing this
wanting to destroy ever
my weekend completely
& :
we all can do these tricks/ secretions from inside the event/every event squirting squirting
(the only text that prepared me for adulthood was Robert Gluck’s Jack the Modernist
I was 24 years of age when my friend John casually lent it to me
when I took my fingers out I really liked the smell)
V
my mother, a semiologist
VI
frightened by feelings which appear to leak through from another dimension, I tell Conor how closed-down and empty I’ve been feeling lately. This guy something I can’t remember
VII
watched a Heath Ledger dvd (Margaret gave it me), some of Berlin Alexanderplatz (Glenn lent me), finished the Jean Rhys (Sheffield charity shop visiting Marc for christmas), some of concrete poetry book (library), listened to a bunch of Stephen Sondheim cds (Lorraine lent me), posted on DC’s
VIII
empty train late at night, watching from opposite side of the track as it passes, no sound, people transplanting bushes under cover of darkness, no soil, just ashes & cinders in a smashed-up garden
IX
A shiny red sports car in a spanking new garage. Va Va Voom!
X
om ug poop
___________
from Trees
Here are two Sound Pyramids. Constructed from loops of skipping records, I create visual 'pyramids' of these samples that build in sonic intensity as they reach the pyramidal apex. "Olivia" is from an Olivia Newton-John record (long-since lost, unfortunately), and "Through a Trough" is from a Bach Violin Suite played backwards. Do turn up loud and freak out! All my love, trees'
___________
from Frank Jaffee
Happy 5th Birthday DC's!!
xxfrank
__________
from Statictick
Happy 5th, DC's!
This is Stage Three of something that isn't titled yet, because it's so unfinished.
Stage One: In the summer of 2002, Dynomoose was visiting back in Detroit. It was the first time I saw her since she moved to New Orleans in the late 90s. I'd just gotten info about DH's August wedding. We decided to make a wedding present for DH and his soon-to-be wife. They were to be his and her clocks. They were put together from a barrel full of stuff either trash-picked, remnants of things that had broken, etc... At first the clocks worked, meaning they could be partially wound and they'd unwind, things would spin, some things made noise (the perfect toy). For dragged out reasons, I never got to the wedding, and instead of sending the clocks, I kept them - always intending to send them. I think I moved four times since then, finally settling here downtown about six years ago.
Stage Two: So much was going on with me that I always had the clocks, but every time they were moved, they lost pieces. Kinda like me, really. So, the stage of losing them.
Stage Three: Recently I found that I somehow still had the original barrel of stuff. The idea arrived that, since I'd had all this so long, it was fate, and should be properly assembled.
I don't know if I can get the clocks to work again or not. Now they are part of one large piece. It still needs a bunch more from the barrel, paint, and a mounting solution. So, this is very raw. And the pix suck because my generation-zero phone is near death. But, hopefully you'll get the idea.
Whenever it is that I finally finish this (I have to keep taking it apart for fear my rather large cat will destroy it, then putting it back together), I'll beg forgiveness of the intended owners and see if they will want something as ugly as this is becoming.
The original clocks, now reset:
Detail:
Attempt at getting most of it:
Love to the blog, man.
__________
from Paul Curran
the beginning of five years of occupation the torture of heretics ask the French government for political asylum charges of treason adultery and incest She screamed when I bit through her nipple condemned to death by a specially-selected jury I sat in a Pizza Hut in Leicester Square shaking previously rejected discovery of the fifth law of planetary motion prototype orbital weapons platform
fenced off from student anti-war protesters what later would become downtown I told the waitress I murdered a prostitute a total of 31 people killed including 22 schoolchildren spend more than five days in space the last time a major earthquake happened She told me to help myself to the buffet the world's fifth highest mountain five assassination attempts in one day
__________
from little foal
__________
from Derek McCormack
----
*
p.s. Hey. We're almost there. Thank you, and thank you again. ** Chris (British), Seems sensible to think it'll all work out in the end, the dangling notwithstanding. Hope so. I'm a preposition skipper from way back. Goes with growing up on the West Coast. Shorthand is shorthand for trust or something out there. ** David, Thanks a lot for the buzz, man. Quite a day you had there. The Buzzcocks rool! They bought you a pass. So, you know DD or you are DD or ... what exactly are you inferring, sir? ** Mensmetal09, Cufflinks, huh. I've got a little bottle of Liquid Paper around here somewhere. Want to trade? ** Charles Sobhraj, First, welcome back you hearty soul, and second, thanks for thinking of here, and third, talk about nailing it! ** David Ehrenstein, Greetings, David. ** Alan, Thank you for appreciating everything. ** Statictick, Wonderful, strange gift, my friend. Thank you. We lost our sun here too. It was around for about an hour. Today's the same. It's Europe's lot in general, they say. I'd go see that band if I knew and could, even if I don't even know your friend. It's so wrong that it could just work. ** Sypha, I doubt I qualify as the saint of homosexuality. Does the Church ever go for a UK-style coalition saint? If so, I say David E and Bernard should get the nod. ** Trees, Got your email, fixed the link, or I sure hope I did. Every day here has had some sort of mistake caused by my handiwork. I'm going to stream your gift this afternoon while I pack my bags. It's penned in. Well, when the radio show is ours at last, do tell please. Queer punk woods party ... what is that gonna be? I guess you'll find out. Hopefully it won't be too radical faerie-ish, but that's probably just me. Real glad your anthology slot is official. That's awesome enough news that it need not be a surprise. ** Dennis Cooper, I need a new spam filter. ** Scunnard, I appreciate your kinds words re: my belated competence. I know, when I comment here, I feel like a Dad intruding on his masturbating kids to say Dinner's ready. ** Casey McKinney, Seriously wish I could be at your readings this weekend, Youtube it, por favor? ** JW Veldhoen, I like that you keep referencing James Agee. It's very interesting. ** Misanthrope, Congrats on the deep sleep. I hope you find your ass. Everyone, our friend Misanthrope is missing his ass. If anybody here has it and is through with it, please put it back where it belongs. ** Steven Trull, Await my signal. ** Christopher/ Mark, That was like the best NYC trip ever, and I've had some decent ones. It feels kind of murderous not to be in LA for the Merce Cunningham revival. Are you going out there for it? I think I need to read that new Forster bio. I wonder if he's known and read here? I wonder if I can find it. That does sound like a nice reading, and dinner or any interaction with the great and ageless Brad is always a joy. I hadn't heard about Callie Angell. That is sad news. ** Blake Wood, Hey, Blake! Ken B. just said, oh, yesterday I think that you were going to see 'Trash Humpers' with Korine there in person. Nice. Getting to link over to your place and watch that Sister Ruby Band clip was more than gift enough. Very nice and in very many respects. I should share it. Everyone, longstanding d.l. and visual artist to treasure Blake Wood gave the blog the gift of being introduced to one Johnny Ruby in the context of his Sister Ruby Band, and you'll be very glad you discovered him/them, I'm pretty sure. And only after you've clicked that and gotten his talent into your head, you can click this and possibly cement the deal. Well, let's just say I certainly see what you meant. Is there more of his music or other stuff out there that I can avail myself of? Recordings or anything? Thank you much for that, Blake. I hope LA is turning out to be the right place for you to be, man. ** Flit, Yeah, showing locally makes sense, and it's a good thing to do in and of itself, and anything once accomplished can lead to anything and everything else too. Do have a space or gallery in mind or even scheduled? ** Uli, Wow, man, that was an intense two months. I had a cough for while, annoying but surely not as harsh as yours, and I was doing the same speculating on the dark side about it with much worrying as well. I'm really glad you're out the scary thick of that. Don't take my word for it, but I think Jamie Stewart is in NYC right now, but I guess that doesn't mean he won't hop a plane over there. I guess hoping against hope is the best policy. Hope the gig's as good as it so easily could be. Take care, and, yeah, welcome back. ** Bill, Oh, no doubt. I've met me a few Viennese lookers in my time. ** Jesse Hudson, Hey, Jesse! Thanks for being here and telling your fellow gift holders what fellow geniuses they are. Talk you very soon. ** No more teenagekicks, My smile thanks you sweetly in the only way it knows how. ** JoeM, Howdy, Joe! Marvelous to see you, of course, my friend, and the gift was just great. Oh, that Joe Orton link is a little treasure trove, and 'Waiting for John' is a real find too. Everyone, courtesy of the writer's writer and beloved d.l. JoeM, first, here are Joe Orton's 'defaced' books for your delectation, and, second, here's a really funny, well done, and interesting blog project for you to check out and likely get addicted to. How is your writing going, Joe? Can you share a report? ** Justin, Yeah, I kind of figured that the Dad thing was at least partly behind it. I guess just keep your mind and eye on the clock that indicates the minute that you can escape back in your own world, and if he plays emotional games, don't play them or else think of the visit as an acting role or something if you can. ** Hedi, Guyotat didn't want to do the book with you originally? That's curious. I mean, nothing against Creation Books, but what have they got that you guys don't? I'm sure glad he came around, obviously. I think I told you at the time that I saw Guyotat do a reading at the Centre Pompidou. He had this unexpected benevolent vibe as well as the physically biggest head I've ever seen on a human being, I think. I sure hope you make it to Paris. I promise to do all I can to make it as untraumatic and fun filled as possible. ** Bernard Welt, Yeah, I was just watching that little incident again on Xtube the other day. It didn't hold a candle to operating the camera. ** Rigby, It is pretty fucking good, right? This birthday thing. Jesus, a real corker of a gift, that one. Thank you. Everyone, here's Rigby's birthday gift to us all in flying colors. You're being back is definitely all that matters. History is nothing but ripe for the picking. ** Amccartney, Thanks for the wishes, A. Stuff's okayish here. Weather could be a lot better, I guess. My novel is being very difficult and causing me great frustration at the moment, but that happens, as I'm sure you know. Very, very best of luck on the new visa, and, yeah, try to just go through the motions and not design the results yet. Two books ... wait, weren't there two books a while back? Is this a new subdivision or a return to the original idea of two books? ** Nb, Okey-doke, I'll come up with some recommendations and hit you with them pronto. When exactly do you head out there again? ** Chilly Jay Chill, 'Bells from the Deep' does sound like a must. I'm guessing it's on one of the Herzog documentary comp DVDs? I missed 'Bad Lieutenant'. I think it's supposed to be fun at best. I guess it has been a while since he's made a great fiction film. Kiddiepunk, Oscar, and I were just yesterday debating the ages old, unanswerable question of what causes an amazing director to just stop being great or cease being an auteur at least. The specific examples in our discussion being Ridley Scott and Scorcese. Two real cautionary tales there -- Scott being the far more extreme example, of course -- if you ask me. Tony's great 'dub day' happened on this still-living blog, so it needs no revamping, just directions to it, I guess. Hold on. It's here. ** Frank Jaffe, Thank you so much for the very fine gift, Mr. Jaffe. Oh, right, I forgot about your internship, of course. That's so cool. That should be so interesting. I like 'Oldboy', yeah. Oh, I'm neither a convert nor a naysayer or anything since, other than rentals when I'm in LA, I haven't even watched a DVD in, gosh, I don't know how long. I would guess that when I get the opportunity, I'll go Blu-Ray. I haven't heard any decent argument against doing that anywhere. Awesomeness in the form of today right at back you, man. ** Inthemostpeculiarway, You sound like you need another hug today. *hugs* I sure hope it isn't my organic hugs that are keeping you semi-down and out albeit technically on your feet. The weather here today is a match for yesterday. Gloomy. Gosh, my friend, I really hope you feel a ton better today. My day, mm ... My novel is really, really giving me a hard time and stressing me out right now, so the portions of yesterday when I worked it were a total drag. I might take a day off today for its and my sake. I started getting prepared for my nine upcoming days in Brest working on the new theater piece that start on Sunday. Oh, I was photographed for the magazine that I'm being interviewed at length for tomorrow. The photographer came over yesterday and scouted the Recollets and decided the basement was the most photogenic locale, so I posed in what I think was a lot of dramatic, spooky light down there for a couple of hours. Then he shot some pictures of my currently very messy desk before leaving me be. So that used up part of the day. I also had coffee with the newly returned Kiddiepunk and Oscar in my favorite cafe in the Gare de l'Est. That was of course most pleasant. I watched some Cannes Film Festival coverage on TV. That was inherently interesting, and, man, does that Ridley Scott 'Robin Hood' movie look like a bore. It was the 'opening night' film at the festival, and I guess nobody liked it, which is no surprise. Those were yesterday's highlights, I guess. Okay, tell me everything about Friday. ** Creative Massacre, I figure you'll get to Paris one of these not too distant days. I feel it in my gut, and, for now, Texas is where you need to be. I find Texas scary. Well, except for spots here and there, Austin especially. Where in Texas will you be? ** Math, Hey, Math! ** 'Stoopid Slapped Puppies', Hey, pal. That Shane is one seriously heck of a guy. I'm really glad his idea had the intended effect. The love we feel for you don't need no telescope, man. Maybe a Wifi signal, but what's a Wifi signal between friends? You're the best, Nick, and it's best if you accept your fate in that regard. More love still from me. ** Little foal, Hey, man. Buffy Season 8 is great, of course. It's Buffy. Buffy = greatness except for the first season, I guess. Have you already watched 1 through 7? Well, you should watch it. It's the end of the Buffy story unless you count the Buffy comix. I still say shave at the leisure center, but not if you're going to get hassled by a bunch of shitheads or anything. That's the fear, I guess? Could you, like, shave in your kitchen when no one else is home? I guess that's kind of a messy option. Hm, a dilemma. I'm sure you'll do the right thing. And, before I forget, and I hadn't, your gift today is exquisite like only you can be. Thank you sincerely. ** Bollo, Dublin is so rustic and beloved of winged creatures. I had no idea. Oh, well, shortlisted is a lot better than nothing even if, well, you got nothing out of it but your pride. I still say they're blind foolish pigs of people. Remind me the next time I go to LA, and I'll get you a 'Weaklings'. There's a batch of them there. No, the French version is French language only aka typically French. ** Changeling, Oh, you're definitely a major player in the gang. It's your gang, and we're your gang, and, yeah, I'm prepared to accept our superiority. Your gift today is just magnificent, a thrill to house and to have opened. Thanks so very much, really. So, your friends draw lines when it comes to music genres? That's too bad. Unlike my novels, I have weirdly broad tastes when it comes to music, I don't know why, and nor do I know why my novels are so picky. The Rimbaudmania website isn't that rich in terms of what it holds, but it does explain the show. There's a Rimbaudmania book that goes with it. Maybe you can find it and flip through it in a bookstore? I could pick a copy up here and send it to you, if you need. It's basically the entire show between book covers. Your idea for the Rimbaud piece sounds really good and haunting to me, a good angle, and fragrant way into him. There must be Rimbaud manga or graphic novels or something. Hm, you know you might know is our own Oscar B. Oscar, you there? Changeling seeks knowledge of manga, comic, graphic novels that star or have to do with Rimbaud. Do you know of any you can recommend to him? Thanks. Take care, man. ** With that, you're on your own re: Day Four. I will quite naturally see you guys and drop the final batch of gifts in front of you tomorrow. Bye.
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