BitterSuite: An Ode To Metropolis…

In an effort to soothe the hell that is the raging California fire’s effect on my sinuses and lungs, I have combined several of my best cityscapes from my last road trip with my prose. So behold:

BitterSuite: An Ode To Metropolis:

Hear the city’s heartbeat
In the screaming electric monolith
Cruising speed burns at the eyes
Somewhere here there is an idea
But not today.

Pound the accelerator
Outrun that desolation road
In the horizon she shines bright
Somewhere here there is a future
But not today.

The metropolis beckons now
Lose everything entirely in her industry
The motor roars out a love song
Somewhere here there is salvation
But not today.

Stripped of all hard armor
Walk the shameful pavement skin
Feel her yielding underneath pressure
Somewhere here there is connection
But not today.

Thousands of empty eyes
Staring back at this promenade
She steals every concern inside
Somewhere here there is perfection
But not today.

Thoughts returning again
To how badly this was destroyed
The skyline is tainted by this tempo
Somewhere here there is forgiveness
But not today.

Found peace here once
Lost worry in industrial colors
Freedom came in traffic light dodges
Somewhere here there is sweet release
But not today.

Half-smile teases the face
Her cruelty is better than the abyss
Continue a death march into rush hour
Somewhere here there is a heart
But not today.

24…25…

It was almost, but not quite, just another Club Hell night at the Facade in Hollywood…

I breathed in slowly…Sir Skipdog let loose a three count, and I breathed out, a quick pinch electrocuting my back, followed by twenty-four more pinches, some more intense, some without feeling…my head spun, but I cycled my energy, focused on the light fixture in front of me, and let myself die in the endorphin rush pounding in my ears…I let myself smile in the face of anxiety and painful knowledge…

Twenty minutes later, I had finished recieving my first surface piercings across a Medusa head painted on my back. For my birthday, I overcame my fear of needles that had irrationally gripped me since I recieved two spinal taps at age sixteen. I had to do something big and intense. It prepared me for probably the crappiest, most painful day of my short life. Hu-fucking-zzah.

But hey…good news: you can buy AFTER online now!

http://www.indyplanet.com/catalog/product_info.php?products_id=576

Until our distribution gets a bit wider, you can order our book online for a mere 3.75 + bargain shipping and handling. In the meanwhile, all the stores listed in our MySpace blog (www.myspace.com/memetic_press) will have AFTER on their shelves no later than Halloween (provided Thee Reverend Battle actually shipped everything on time…go harrass him at www.memeticpress.com or www.myspace.com/reverendbattle until he sends the comics off, he loves being yelled at). We’re still waiting to hear back from three stores, but I think my publicity wench’s wiles are wearing away at them…

At any rate…BUY THE BOOK.

Don’t make me make you.

Happy F@&*ing Birthday…!

Yep, at midnight, I’m one year away from being one-fourth of a century old. Twenty-four just sounds so much more fatal and dramatic when put like that. Work has rewarded me with a sixteen hour OT shift tomorrow…yes, that was the sound of me screaming in frustration earlier.

ON A GOOD NOTE…

Memetic Press is coming to a town near you!

Okay, maybe just our books are coming.

By the end of the month, Albuquerque residents will be able to purchase AFTER at Astro-Zombies (3108 Central Ave Se, Albuquerque, NM 87106) and Comic Warehouse (9617 Menaul Blvd NE Albuquerque NM 87112)! Stop in, support the independant press supporters, and buy the great work of the talented Reverend Battle.

I have word out to forty other stores across the nation…if you want to see this book in your neighborhood, go to your local comic book stores and ask them to stock our work…they can reach me for distribution at memeticpresswest@gmail.com any time, day or night.

For even more Memetic Press goodness, stop in at our MySpace (www.myspace.com/memetic_press), harrass our author (www.myspace.com/reverendbattle), or harrass the distributor/publicist (moi!) herself (www.myspace.com/pictorphotography). Memetic Press’ official blog is linked in my blogroll, along with the blog of Memetic’s lovely editrix, Trickster.

It feels good to be in my natural element again…if anyone reading this needs a publicist/writer/photographer, I do take requests. I’m looking for more clients at the moment, so feel free to inquire about my services…I’m your one-stop publicity shop!

Until then…t-minus four hours, seventeen minutes until my hatching anniversary.

*throws confetti*

Ow. Ow. Ow.

That, dear readers…is the sound of a pre-birthday party HANGOVER.

But I come forth from my headache and grogginess to tell you that Memetic Press’ comic book “AFTER” is going to be available by month’s end in Albuquerque, New Mexico at Astro-Zombies (3108 Central Ave Se, Albuquerque, NM 87106). Furthermore, Los Angelinos can purchase “AFTER” starting October 24th at Hi-De-Ho Comics (525 Santa Monica Blvd, Santa Monica, CA 90401).

I am working tirelessly day and night to bring the issue to more locations, with the next most likely shelf space for the comic being Meltdown Comics on Sunset Blvd out here in Los Angeles. Other locations to keep an eye on are Heroes Aren’t Hard To Find (1957 E 7th St, Charlotte, NC 28204…I’ll know if this one’s certain by Monday afternoon), Mile-High Comics (www.milehighcomics.com will be possibly secured by Tuesday), and Golden Apple Comics (7018 Melrose Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90038…again, I’ll know by Monday afternoon).

The other surefire way to get yourself an issue is to contact either me (memeticpresswest@gmail.com) or the fabulous writer of the comic himself (snakepreacher@gmail.com), and for three bucks, the post-Apocalyptic American South shall be revealed to you in full glossy color!

Back to my coffee and whimpering over the dread pirate White Russian…

On The Radio (Or iPod, I Should Say)…

This is the sound of Myz Lyz taking a break from editing a bah-zillion and five pictures still left over from my sojourn in Charlotte. I’m going to ramble on about music now, so settle in or die.

So…’sup?

I’ve had the same fraggin’ playlist screaming in my ears for almost two months now. I’ve edited photos to it, jogged to it, tested video games at work to it, danced to it…hell, you don’t wanna KNOW what else I’ve done to the tune of this playlist. All in good cheer, I assure you.

For ages and ages, I sought out the makings of this Perfect Playlist, like a rabid Rob Gordon made flesh. With this list…I might have it. It has been modified all to holy hell since its conception, and probably shall continue to be modified as my moods change. This is its current incarnation:

1.) “Dead Man’s Party” by The Last Dance

2.) “Christfuck” by :Wumpscut:

3.) “Video Romeo” by Kidd Video

4.) “The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove” by Dead Can Dance

5.) “Red” by Sister Machine Gun

6.) “To Die For” by The Birthday Massacre

7.) “Juke Joint Jezebel” by KMFDM

8.) “Another World” by Beborn Beton

9.) “When You’re Evil” by Voltaire

10.) “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

11.) “Point And Click” by Chant

12.) “Europa And The Pirate Twins” by Thomas Dolby

13.) “Cuts You Up” by Peter Murphy

14.) “Never Gonna Come Back Down” by BT

15.) “Chrome” by VNV Nation

16.) “What Time Is Love?” by The KLF

17.) “Black Celebration” by Depeche Mode

18.) “Army Of Me” by Bjork

19.) “Crystal” by New Order

20.) “Possession” by Sarah McLachlan

21.) “Mad World” by Tears For Fears

22.) “I Have The Touch” by Peter Gabriel

23.) “Fiction (Dreams In Digital)” by Orgy

24.) “Girl From Ipanema Goes To Greenland” by The B-52s

25.) “Military Fashion Show” by And One

26.) “Kiss Me, I’m Shitfaced” by Dropkick Murphys

27.) “This Is My Rifle” by Combichrist

28.) “The Last Excuse” by Dismantled

29.) “After Hours” by Covenant

30.) “What Else Is There?” by Royksopp

All of these songs are on Shuffle setting, so I never get the same order twice. I have NEVER gotten bored with the power behind this list.

These songs, dear readers, are what get me through the working day, and through the lonely nights of my Artist’s Quest for Recognition…or some shit similar to that soppy wanker statement.

Okay, enough prattling…back to too much coffee and photograph nitpicking before the first in a series of plastered birthday bashes takes place tonight…

White Russians and spankings for Pictor Photography, ya heathens!

CyberPunk.Gov

Hello There!

Here’s a little excerpt from my novel/comic book in progress, “CyberPunk.Gov.” FYI, it’s already copyrighted ten times over, so steal it at the risk of losing your testicles. Comments are EXTREMELY welcome, and this might become a weekly serial if it goes over well. So, without further ado…Track One of CyberPunk.Gov!

ONLY IN MY MIND:

 You know it’s true though i try to hide it it shows in you i know it’s true i know you still deny it i see right through all you won’t admit what if you’re the reason i can’t fall far enough to find the lies that i depend on exist only in my mind i know like you though you still deny it it shows in you you know it’s true and though i try to fight it i can’t see through all i won’t accept what if you’re the reason i can’t fall far enough to find the lies that i depend on exist only in my mind what if you’re the reason i can’t fall far enough to find the lies that i depend on exist only in my mind… 

He took his headphones off as the last industrial sadness faded out on the iPod he was plugged into. A thin stream of light struck the wall in front of him from between the drawn shades; only a fraction of what the sunny Honolulu beaches outside could offer him. The effect this dream spot had on him registered as nothing more than an annoyance. But for the first time in eight months, he was far away from things, which sounded better than it actually was. His eyes focused out of the music back into his surroundings. She was still nowhere near him. The sheets were cold; he could feel the ice through his jeans just as intensely as he could feel it against his bare back. Despite his meditative efforts, he was still alone in the sterile hotel room he’d sequestered himself in for the last week. He turned off his iPod and proceeded to stare at the ceiling for exactly five seconds. He saw her gray eyes staring back at him in the concrete.

            What does the revolutionary do now, Min?

            As if to answer his despondent thoughts, he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. The Caller ID read WORK, the last ID he wanted to see at that moment. He rolled his eyes before answering it. “Janus here.”

            “Matthews, it’s Fenris. I hope you have at least a laptop with you over there, because we have a live one here. I just sent you the files for the new bust,” the voice shouted into his ear. Janus groaned, holding the phone away from him in a feeble attempt to make reality go away. He could almost smell ginger this last time. He reached over to the nightstand and pulled a black t-shirt over his head…being partially nude while talking to Fenris struck him as too perverse to be allowed. He tucked the shirt into the waistband of his jeans and addressed the squirming man who was now yelling at him to answer.

            “Fenris…I’m on vacation, okay? Two weeks off. Corporate rules, so even you can’t fuck with them. I can’t do this right now.”

            “Look, Matthews, we’ve got two guys trying to nail the mainframe here. We need you in there NOW,” Fenris demanded, hanging up. He knew that tone of voice, a tone telling him there was no talking this boss man out of what was necessary, especially if Corvus’ mainframe was involved. Janus knew this was like the rest, a bunch of dumb kids trying to play hacker against a multinational software company, unaware that they were about to have their asses handed to them. No real hacker would try to go after Corvus these days. Janus’ name had been whispered worldwide in conjunction with his skills and former occupation, and now he was known as the best security money could buy. He got up from the bed and went to the laptop he left on the desk. He prepared to go to work. Before logging in, he was convinced he saw her blink, a sign of her understanding.

I can’t get away from it, Min.

He sat straight up as the words echoed in his head. He was logged in, already tracing the dumb kids straight to whatever van or dorm room they were hiding in. He could almost hear them snickering like the little bastards they were. Three keystrokes and he had their asses nailed to the wall, locked into a program designed to make them think they were into Corvus’ mainframe. Two more keystrokes, and the Feds were on their way. Five minutes, end of story. He knew none of the baby bats would be smart enough to get the hell out of Dodge. They hadn’t even run a cloaking program to hide their identities. It was so easy, he felt mildly insulted. Janus dialed Fenris back. “We’re finished here. The Feds are on their way. Can I go back to my vacation now?” he asked.

            “For the time being…I don’t like the idea of you away from the office, but rules are rules, of course. But isn’t it a little early for time off? We just hired you, after all. Technically, this is grounds for termination.”

            “Technically, Fenris…you know you need me too much. Now, unless someone’s trying to blow up the fucking corporate headquarters, fuck off.”

            “You are very lucky indeed that it is part of my job description to take crap off of you. The funds are in your account now. Be back in a week, or I will go straight to corporate head about your…behavior,” Fenris’ sneer melded into the dial tone, resounding in Janus’ tired head. Janus dropped the phone on the desk and pulled his headphones on again. He rummaged through his music files until he found the song to ice him over again. He knew he never should have accepted the job, not after…

            Min, what the fuck am I doing here?

            Even if she could answer him, he knew she never answered that question. She would smile, laugh a little, and throw the question back at him. He needed that right now, more than ever. He knew as well as she would that this job was taken with three intents: money, paid vacation up front, and no government connection. Now he was just losing his focus again in the melody resounding in his brain. He tapped the plain silver band around his left ring finger on the desk in time with the maudlin words pounding through the earbuds. By the end of the song, he could feel the tears rolling down his face. He slapped himself across the face. Twice. That was better. The pain lulled him into reminiscence.

 

Late Night…

Yet another night of insomnia…the time is 10:23…same as my birthdate. I’m supposed to be up at six for another work day in front of a cruddy computer, playing a video game that I’ve been playing for almost four months now at dick pay. Lucky me, Police Academy is on, and my stash of Bushmill’s is still plentiful.

Somehow, this is my life in the big city.

I’ve often wondered how I’ve made it this far. I’ve scored some impressive gigs since I put Pictor Photography together in March of this year. I’ve photographed Thomas Dolby (unpaid), Club Hell (again, unpaid), Bar Sinister (half-paid, mainly because I was hired by the band, not the club), Bondage Ball Hollywood (unpaid…can you feel the redundancy?), the Emmys (way to follow the pattern!), and CHANT (PAID! FINALLY!). I have my own projects that keep the wind in my sails, and I’ve even done some modeling for other photographers.

But HOLY SHIT, there are so many other people trying to make it in the same line of work as me, and for every one of us, there’s about 20 photographers who have established themselves over the decades. I feel truly lucky to have their support and admiration, as well as to have posed for a few of them. I can’t help but feel that, despite the amazing and always improving quality of my work, I’m outnumbered here.

Thus…my recent strong desire to move shop somewhere new that isn’t quite as populated by photographers. I have a place in mind, and it will take a few months, but it will happen. I’m still trying to capture as many places in my memory card as possible. My nomadic nature has kicked in again, and its drive to make me some money off this passion of mine (rather than being surrounded by smelly gamer geeks and their Doritos for forty hours a week) is worse than ever.

Lord, I just need a little peace and quiet to hear myself think, and the bullshit in the media industry out here is so thick, I could cut it with J-Lo’s nipples. I need a new city to merge with, drink the energy of, capture the beauty in…and then it’ll be time to cut and run again.

10/23…I’ll be twenty-four on 10/23. I really feel like I haven’t even scratched the surface of what I can do, and what I can show the world. Oddly, for four months now…California just feels like I’m getting lost more and more. The miserable duo I live with is starting to push their pessimism on me, and I can’t let that happen. I’ve been getting a glimpse of the world outside of these walls again, and I forgot how well my camera and my pen respond to freedom. I got some of my best work done this last weekend when I visited the South, and I *SO* want to have more days like that.

The plan thus far is to pick up and move by mid-February unless something MAJOR lands in my lap. By major, I mean steady, paying, and enough to afford me my own place, which is simply IMPOSSIBLE on my $10/hour salary. Yes, this is whiny hellcrap, but I’m awfully adept at it.

Funny how there’s so few gigs that pay out here, but there’s free alcohol aplenty during the art shows.

Ah, Los Angeles…you big blonde bitch.

What *AM* I going to do with you?

*takes double shot of whiskey and half-smiles*

“Remember, no matter where you go, there you are…” –Dr. Buckaroo Banzai

Official First Post Of DOOM.

 

Hmmm.

First post…a friend of mine finally twisted my arm about getting a blog. So here. You win. I’ll be using this page as a little window into the mind of a Los Angeles photographer trying to stand out amongst all the bazillion other Los Angeles photographers. I specialize in Fetish, Club, and Cityscape photography, and those Cityscapes brought on these thoughts, originally logged into my MySpace blog (www.myspace.com/pictorphotography)…

I’m in a mood of sorts today…I’ve been thinking long and hard about my Urban Tribal cityscapes series, and the book it will eventually become. I have had a lot of people look at it, then look at my club/fetish photography, and ask me why in the HELL I do something as commercial and normal as my cityscapes.

There’s a story here…I shall share it.

When I first got D80kins, I went down to the Third Street Promenade and started firing off random pictures of everything around me to get a good feel for the way she worked (yes, my camera has a name and is thought of as a female…B.B. King has Lucielle, I have D80kins…if you have an issue with that, then fuck you). I wound up taking a picture of a homeless man holding a sign that said “Or Just A Smile.” I went home and edited the photos, realizing that my guerilla “hold camera on my hip and use an idea inspired by the movie Ronin to take secret pictures of places and things”  style captured some amazing moments, including the homeless man. The next day, hours after posting the pictures online, I went back to the Promenade and overheard two homeless men talking about the “Or Just A Smile” man…and how he had died that morning after being taken away in an ambulance the night I took his picture.

The realization that I may have taken this man’s last picture (or his soul, I suppose, if you subscribe to Aborigine beliefs) hit me like a sack of dead kittens. I had captured a moment that truly never would be again. True, many of the homeless at the Promenade have adapted his sign to their uses…but I caught a picture of a man who would never walk the Earth in that form again. Yet how many people really noticed him when he was alive, or cared that he died? What do you do with this idea?

I take these Cityscape pictures because these Cityscapes are all around us, and we breeze through them with little acknowledgement. We see statues, people, cars, and businesses that we never recognize. I’ve taken pictures of giant buildings that people stand in front of every day while waiting for a bus, and yet they had to be reminded of them when they saw my pictures and had no idea what they were of. When realization hit one person, I was informed they would be looking at that building with new affection every day. 

Perhaps I believe too much that there is neverending beauty in our world in the most manmade and unusual of everyday things. If just for one second, people stop and pay attention to just one thing they never noticed…who knows what Zen moment it could bring on.

I end this prolific babbling of insufficient caffiene levels with a quote that set off part of this thinking…

“As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn’t supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it’s harder every time. You’ll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You’ll fight with your best friend. You’ll blame a new love for things an old one did. You’ll cry because time is passing too fast, and you’ll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you’ve never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you’ll never get back. Don’t be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin.” –Anonymous