truly, madly. gorgeous music, and an elegant, deceptively simple way of looking at it. one of those “why didn’t i think of that” moments.
link thoughtfully delivered by the friendly man from vietnambla.
worst episode ever invalidated his cool last sunday by showing up at crobar with my psychotic ex-boyfriend (who was kind enough to get a terrifying haircut and gain thirty pounds). thought everyone would be really concerned about that.
this slideshow at slate illustrates a lot of nasty issues in fashion photography, but it also points to a lot of things going wrong with mass-market design. specifically: the removal of elegance and beauty in favor of sterile demographic mirroring. the essay also reflects a disturbing trend towards self-deprecation and self-mutilation before the lens, a sort of ironic and artificial self-destruction presented specifically for the audience’s pleasure. also related: jonno’s find at fleshbot, including one of the stupidest and most damaging ads gucci has ever had created.
ever late to the party, the new york times suddenly discovers that—wa-hey!—gay guys like crystal meth. too bad for dubya’s presidential campaign they weren’t this late finding reality where his habits are concerned. if they had been, he’d still be lookin’ like the great american hero, rather than the liar he is. where the hell were they when i alluded to it? god, even i was late beating that horse.
da trib, ever boring, reports that kodak is shifting its focus from traditional film cameras to digital consumer-level cameras and disposables in north america. who the fuck cares?
i never liked photographs very much since so much of my own work and correspondence is digital. printed pictures to me are dead data, or information that’s reached a dead end in its existence and can no longer be manipulated. boooooring. what’s the point of having a picture of your bitch sister if you can’t paint a cute little van dyke on her?
i switched to digital photography in my own work most publicly with a piece for WIRED 9.06, using a nikon (which i still use and love) and it was terrifying. i had no idea if the image quality would hold up under scrutiny—but it was fine, even on large-format printing. whew.
on a more personal note, this also means that my pathetic little hometown will probably be shedding still more jobs (this is assuming that eastman still has anything to do with kodak), and will become ever more the depressed bedroom community with not a fucking clue as to why everyone hates it there and refuses to visit despite the swanky (cough) convention center. southern leaders: chimps. chimps, i tell you.
but on the upside, the horrible stench i grew up with (and which deadened my sense of smell for life) will no longer be around. so it’ll be prettier there. y’win some, y’lose some.
whatever. i moved away for a reason, y’know?
chrystyne k, a freakishly beautiful friend of mine, is a finalist in bizarre magazine’s bizarre beauties contest.
should her photos make her a winner, she’ll be whisked away to london for a photoshoot and i’ll make good on the bribe she paid me to post this. rock!
okay, no, really. you should vote for her. she’s one of those insanely gorgeous people who’s impossible to have a conversation with. i just keep staring at her, um, stuff and i’m all, “hello? i’m a fag? what’s going on?” and she’s nice too, so i can’t even resent her for sexually confusing me. i hate that.
so. a vote for chrystyne is a vote for democracy! and great tits! yeah!
according to this story at the new york times, web users who block popup ads are undercutting the free content they’re accustomed to.
well, dear, if you didn’t want that to happen, why did you devise an intrusive advertising model for free content to begin with? i mean, really.
god, i just wither when chicago media tries to stir up celebrity dish. it never works. see?
finally, the chicago sun-times achieves some degree of celebrity legitimacy in the lord black scandal. by playing the part of well-abused doormat wife. in public. now if only they’d turn out a full-on farrah trip and go crazy on a talk show, i’d be completely amused. link via that hog at gawker.
i have a new font family called mettle available from prototype as of, oh say, right about now.
well, okay, it’s not so new. i did the initial designs in 1997 as a low-resolution typeface as navigation for fisher bikes. it grew into a mannered geometric collection of two weights from there.
it’s $39 per weight. whatta bargain! go do. and if you’re not into my work, grab a copy of chaz’ book. he’s brilliant.
wonkette is a new bitchfest from the fine family of gawker products and all us gawker girls. (well, okay, not all of us. choire drinks too much to be much use under pressure). special props go to our illustrator, andrew sklar. and a big warm welcome to ana marie cox, formerly of suck, as the first gawker girl to actually be a girl. now get over there and raise some heck.
apparently, after years of off-and-on reading, i am the only person on the planet who did not realize lance arthur is a fellow ‘mo.
the american family association has decided that their completely unmeaningful survey regarding gay marriage cannot be taken to washington for polling purposes. as it turns out, they feel that a bunch of respondents in favor of gay marriage makes it even more unmeaningful.
so basically, fucko, what you’re saying is that your intended doctored data is no longer legitimate now that someone else has doctored it they way they want it to read. now you can’t use it to make other folks’ lives miserable—and you’re whining about it. nice.
over the past few days, and inspired by this stupid thread at speak up, i’ve been chatting frequently with one mr. jesse ewing, who seems to have the all-american boy thing thoroughly down. jesse’s a fantastic designer, so commission him post haste. and most importantly, he’s got a seizure-inducing-cute sidekick: sasparilla godzilla chinchilla.
su and i have disconnected our land line because we never use it; the only people who ever called were spammers…er, telemarketers. if you need either my mobile number or su’s new one and feel that you are actually worth the forty-five seconds of unbillable time it would take me to send you our digits, then by all means, right this way.
bonus quiz: if it takes me $1.50 of my time to email you my number, what’s my billing rate?
answers will not reflect on your SAT scores.
what the fuck, did my dad just walk into the room? cliquez içi for possibly the most unreasoned and cardigan-wearin’ rant against single people i have ever seen. only good thing about it is the inadvertently hilarious analogy starting the entire piece in which the author compares never having tried (assumedly heterosexual) marriage with a suspected allergy to seafood. i’m not kidding. it’s great.
…is here. everyone else can stop posting now.
