Monthly Archives: May 2006

The Shebeen Club: Edgar Allan Poe’s 170th Wedding Anniversary Afterparty notes

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Mentioned at tonight’s Shebeen Club:

re: Gabriel Byrne has the sexiest voice in the known universe

re: Project Runway

re: Homer’s Odyssey

re: Narnia Raps from NYC, LA, CAM

re: Narnia Rap from Ramadi

re: The Shoeblog of the Manolo

re: Go Fug Yourself on Lindsay Lohan and Sharon Stone at the Oscars

re: Edgar Allan Poe’s Wedding and sorry-ass life (note that when you google “Edgar Allan Poe’s Wedding” our announcement is #1! My hit-whoredom is momentarily satisfied)

Beardsley The Black Cat

re: Christopher Walken is So Fucking Cool

and is even more fucking cool as the Archangel Gabriel in The Prophesy

re: Cthulhu sits out an election: the voters’ loss

re: General Zod for President

re: cowbell

Books brought:

As door prizes:

I Shudder at Your Touch gothic horror erotica

I Shudder Again more of that old gothic horror erotica. Same old same old.

Black Thorn, White Rose erotic retellings of fairy tales, although if you’d read the original French ones you wouldn’t need retellings, baby!

As references:

The Castle of Otranto, by Hugh Walpole. the first Gothic Novella (at least the first one not in German). Gets so caught up in the atmospheric effects of the flapping of raven’s wings in the graveyard and the eerie forboding of shadows in the candlelight that nothing actually ever happens. Like a great-looking date that can’t talk, a restaurant where the vibe is perfect and the food awful. Its chief virtue is that it’s just barely over 100 pages.

The House on the Borderland, by William Hope Hodgson, essentially the first supernatural horror novel in English, The Castle of Otranto being religious rather than supernatural in overtone and this divorcing the horror of the beings from their evil…ie they’re creepy, they’re deadly, but they’re not neccessarily from hell. Far better than TCOO anyway, and a quicker read.

The Gormenghast Trilogy by Mervyn Peake. Great books, I’m sure, if I could ever get through them. Like chewing through a glacier made of Turkish Delight. Historically important, great works of art, exquisitely overwraught, and virtually indigestible. A beach read…if you’re headed to Gitmo.

The Loved Dead and Other Revisions (and other works) by HPPoe Caricature Lovecraft. Cthulhu mythos stuff was discussed, EAP envy (which Lovecraft had in spades)…and the fact that this book contains the single most vivid and compelling tale of necrophilia I’ve ever encountered, and that’s saying something. No, I didn’t read it out over dinner.

Damn, forgot to tell my tale of the old boyfriend of mine who heard about how I was such a fan of “Lovecraft books” and asked to borrow them. A week later he returned them, with a puzzled expression. I asked if he hadn’t liked them and he replied: I thought they were gonna be how-to’s.

A Warning to the Curious by MR James. I put forth my theory that ghost stories are definitively English, while Gothic supernatural horror is particularly American…it was not well-received. Fools! again I say Fools! Ia! Shub Ni-ohfugedaboudit.

The Secret History, by Donna Tartt. I state unequivocally that this, combined with A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, are the two novels which define my generation; this is not good news to anyone who’s read both books. I test my theory that I can recite the first line…The snow was melting and Bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to understand the gravity of our situation. I get about 70% right.

The New Gothic which includes such authors as Jeannette Winterston, whom we all agree is a genius. I quote her: Why have we submitted to a society which makes imagination a privilege when to each of us it comes as a birthright? Unfortunately, the book also includes Joyce Carol Oates, who is obviously paid by the word…and we descend into the crude, embittered remarks of literati who are not paid by the word at JCO’s rates.

Poetoon

Music for this evening:

Lou Reed: The Raven, his rock opera based on Poe

Closed on Account of Rabies, articulating a theory that Poe died not of alcoholism but of rabies. The album is produced by the Genius Hal Willner and featuring Christopher Walken, Gabriel Byrne, Marianne Faithfull, Iggy Pop, Deborah Harry, and Diamanda Galas reading Poe’s works

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds: Murder Ballads, which is a collection of songs about murder, either from the point of view of the victim or the point of view of the perpetrator. This plays while we are eating. Bon appetit!

Diamanda Galas: Defixiones/Will and Testament; you either love her or you don’t even recognize it’s music. I, personally, loved the part where she synched up the throbs in her screams with the flashing of the strobes, but that’s just me.

And the menu was: a glass of wine (amontillado was unfortunately not Irish enough for the Shebeen) and The Tell-Tale Artichoke Heart Pasta. Now aren’t you sorry you missed it?

Operation Occupation

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A friend of mine is a crime reporter. One day he covered the story of a woman giving birth in a stairwell, ran into another woman giving birth, then later that same day saw two boys drown in the river. As he walked into the newsroom to write it up, somebody said, “Hey Jeremy, how’s your day going?”

He said, “So far, I broke even.”

I’m having that kind of day. My story for the paper got bounced back as too markety (which I worried about) but I’m in the top 30 WordPress blogs today. Since I’m on an internship I’m getting paid exactly the same for blogging as for reporting, so I have mixed smug/anxious feelings about this.

Admiral Akbar for President

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So this is our third celebrity campaign on the ol' raincoaster blog, and I have to say so far it's my favorite. Why? One word, my friends.

SQUID

Admiral Akbar for President!!! Squid!! SQUID!!!

Greetings and Salutations Global Citizen! 

For around twenty years now the fish faced shenanigans of the Mon Calamari known as Admiral Ackbar have been delighting we humans. Supposedly he was a great warrior and a mighty leader – that at least is what we are told in the Star Wars films. Yet his sole contribution to the almost disastrous attack on the second death star was to spin round in his chair,waving his flabby hands about, shrieking "It's a twap! It's a twap!". Anyone who witnessed the actions of Admiral Ackbar can be in no doubt – these were the actions of an idiot.Yet, contrary to popular belief, this idiocy was NOT a failing on the part of Ackbar. Nay. With his erratic arm movements and his absurd lisp, this Calamarian clown was actually attempting to boost the morale of the rebel troops – and just look at the results of Ackbar's watery wit. In one single day of sustained jestering, the Admiral managed to kill the emperor, destroy the evil empire and save Anakin Skywalker from the clutches of the dark side. Are these the actions of an idiot? We once thought that the power of the force lay with the jedi knights, but we can now see that it does not. The true power of the force lies with risible Vaudevillian comics like Admiral Ackbar.

VOTE ACKBAR

That is why we here at the UK offices of Finned Celebrities Co.(a subsidiary of Amphibious Actors(UK)Ltd.) believe that the comedic genius of Admiral Ackbar must be recognised now, and must be put to good use. Quite simply we demand he be made president of the entire world.

VOTE ACKBAR

Think of the rewards and opportunities that would arise for planet Earth if we had an oceanic bug-eyed clown ruling over us. Day to day problems like mass unemployment, a growing violent subculture, inadequate health care and the worst global economy this side of the Horse Head nebula would all fade into insignificance, for we would all be too busy laughing at the marine madness that is Ackbar.Just think – no more racial tension. All that xenophobia that seems inbred in we humans would be channelled into the ridiculing of the dome headed buffoon that would be leading our planet.

Global citizens unite – you know it makes (non)sense.Akbar Trading Card!!! Collect them while they're hot!!! Cuz ain't nuthin' so repulsive as cold, dead calamari

Manifesto 

(Complete and unexpurgated)

1. More fish for everyone.

2. Plenty of squid for just about everybody.

3. Erm…

4. I think that just about covers everything.

Eau No! Eau de Stilton

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Blue Cheese 

From Sploid. I have to wonder, though, about their use of the phrase "what may be the world's first cheese-inspired perfume." I mean, that's a sure bet if ever I saw one, if there's a merciful god in heaven and if there weren't, surely we'd have gotten the memo by now.

Though it's odor has been compared to a dead mouse, the folks who make Stilton cheese are introducing a new perfume based on the legendary stench.

The Stilton Cheese Makers Association is working with an aromatics manufacturer to produced what may be the world's first cheese-inspired perfume, Eau de Stilton.

The number of people for whom the scent of Stilton would be an improvement is mercifully small. And if you've gotten to the point where Stilton would make you smell better, you're probably not on the market for perfume.

Rock Solid Stories

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Siwash Rocks!Siwash Rock, according to the agency of the Canadian Government that puts up bronze plaques in parks, and as copied down in my Handspring today on a skate:

Siwash Rock

Indian legend tells us that this 50-foot high pinnacle of rock stands as an imperishable monument to 'Siwash the Unselfish,' who was turned into stone by 'Q'uas the Transformer' as a reward for his unselfishness.

Well isn't that special? That's also NOT how I heard the story. This "Siwash the Unselfish" must have one helluva PR, that's all I can say.

The way I heard it was this:

So there's this guy, Siwash. He's a lazy ass. A good-for-nothing. Everybody else is out busting their butts collecting salmon, collecting oolichans, collecting cedar bark, weaving and knitting and pounding and carving and jerkifying sorry, dunno what else to call it as if their lives depended on it, which they do, and Siwash, the lazy ass, just lays around asking them to keep the noise down.

So the other people in the village go to the Chief and they say Look pal, this here Siwash is a drain on our resources. I mean, we're not gonna let him starve, but sheesh Chief, can't you do something? So the Chief goes hmmmm, lemme see and he calls on the Shaman.

And he says Shaman, buddy, we got this Siwash and as soon as he starts the Shaman is like Whoa man, I know all about this Siwash guy, you don't need to tell me. So the Chief's like what do we do with him? and the Shaman goes well I guess you gotta call on the spirits (like a Shaman is gonna tell you to do anything else, right?). So they do.

They call on the spirits. The Spirits are like Yeah, what? and the people go we got this Siwash and as soon as they start the spirits are all like Oh yeah, we know all about him, waddaya want from us? and the people are like, well, we want you to make it so he doesn't bug us with his laziness but we don't gotta feed him and shit. So the Spirits are like okay, let's talk to Siwash and see what he says.

So the Spirits call on Siwash and he's all like Man, I was just gonna call you and they're like whatever Siwash, we gotta talk to you. And he's like yeah, what? so they tell him the people of the village are tired of looking after your lazy ass. You don't help with the fishing, you don't help with the work around the longhouse, you don't do art, you aren't pretty to look at, nothin'! So they want to stop feeding you but they're all like we don't wanna kill him.

And Siwash goes um, well I guess that's good… but you can tell he's not having the best day right now, and the Spirits say Awww, Siwash, dude, what would you like most in the world? If we could grant you a wish – and he's like you're the Spirits, man, YOU CAN! -and they're all like stay on topic for a minute, okay pal? and he's got, like, no choice, so he does.

Well, he says after a long long time of thinking, for he is indeed not a dude to be rushed, and he knows damn well these are immortals who have time to burn, well he says, I suppose I'd like to skip this migration stuff and just stay in one place all the time, and not be bothered by the change of seasons or any of that, not have to work, not even have to feed or dress myself, and if the villagers would get off my case and not think of me as a burden then yeah, that would be paradise!

And the spirits go Okay, you're a rock.