Above is the cover of Scroobius Pip’s new collection of illustrated poems, entitled ‘Poetry In (e)motion’. It is released in a week or so by Titan books and you should most definitely all buy yourselves a copy.
It features work by yours truly.
Yes, I can finally announce that I was selected alongside several other artists to have my work represent the words of Mr Pip.
This is a massive honour and I am greatly excited about it all (I haven’t seen the finished product yet!). Many, many thanks to Scroob for deeming my doodles appropriate and worthy enough to include in this collection.
I always prefer documentaries that are made while the subjects are still alive (when at all possible to attain). The feigned reverence and rose tinted view that posthumous offerings tend to display often leave a sour taste in my mouth (Such as ‘Buy The Ticket, Take The Ride‘ a hastily put together film, featuring some truly embarrassing moments, notably from Gary Busey). It is for this reason that, despite being a great admirer of Dr Thompson’s works, I have still not yet watched ‘Gonzo‘.
‘Fear And Loathing In Gonzovision‘ is an hour long BBC documentary from 1978 which follows not only Thompson, but allows equal screentime to English Illustrator Ralph Steadman (a compelling and enticing individual with magnetism that is on par with the Doctor himself). This is a rare glimpse into the chemistry that allowed their professional relationship to span several decades.Emphasising what a collaborative effort their endeavors often where.
Covering the period before Hunter’s escapades made it onscreen in ‘Where the Buffalo Roam‘, a watchable but far from classic interpretation starring Bill Murray, this is a superb little piece that offers some unique and insightful material.
‘October 19th, 1975: The most powerful influence on the arts in the West is – the cinema. Novels, plays and films are filled with references to, quotations from, parodies of – old movies. They dominate the cultural subconcious becasue we absorb them in our formative years (as we don’t absorb books for instance); and we see them again on TV when we grow up.
The first two generations predominantly nourished on movies are now of an age where they rule the media; and it’s already frightening to see how deeply – in their behaviour as well as their work – the cinema has imprinted itself on them. Nobody took into account the tremendous impact that would be made by the fact that films are permanent and easily accessible from childhood onward.
As the sheer number of films piles up, their influence will increase, until we have a civilization entirely molded by cinematic values and behaviour patterns.’
As I have mentioned here on several occasions, I am a ridiculously early riser. I am also not fond of going to bed early, but at least I have gotten part of the nursery rhyme correct. Usually between the hours of 6.30 and 8am, I allow myself to wallow in the coffee/internet wilderness stage of the day. Your standard fare really, several news websites, loathsome social networking websites which are more addictive than sugary crack, you know the score. Sometimes though, that section of the day can extend, yesterday was one of these instances.
It was after lunchtime before I managed to slap myself around the face several times and gather the momentum required to actually do something. The trouble was, I didn’t appear to have a useful thought in my brain. I tried writing, but the erroneous and facile drivel that I managed to produce only served to irritate and frustrate me even more. I went to walk into town, to purchase some coloured inks for a monster comic that I have been working on. As I put on my coat, the skies turned black and the heavens opened. Now rain may not be the most common deterrent to leaving the house, but need I remind you that I live in Galway. In Galway, you get freak rain, heavy bullet like downpours which not only leave you soaked, but also manage to give you a good hiding at the same time.
Films were unappealing, it was too early, and I scanned the bookcase to see what was on the ‘unread’ shelf. I picked up a copy of Chuck Palahniuk’s ‘Snuff’ and began to read. Four and a half hours later, I had finished ‘Snuff’ and felt all the more accomplished for doing so. It is a unique book in that I didn’t particularly enjoy reading it at the time. I love Palahniuk, he is one of my favourite authors, but there was something so formulated about this, that in its structural transparency I was left feeling a little cheated. Today, however, when I reflect on the book, I am left with a far more satisfied and contented feeling in relation to it. Could it be that Chuck has discovered some form of literary attack device that infiltrates the mind and seeps out gradually over time in waves of revelation?
The premise of ‘Snuff’ is a simple one, middle aged porn legend Cassie Wright is planning to go out with a bang, a gang bang. Preparations have long been in place for the filming of her new opus ‘World Whore Three’ in which Cassie will ‘take on’ 600 men for the camera. The story is told from the perspective of three men, waiting for their turn to ‘perform’ in the crowded stinking basement. The men are comprised of an aging porn veteran, a washed up TV star, recently spurned from television due to a publicised sex scandal and a young man who believes he is Cassie Wright’s son. They all have reasons for being there that stem beyond plain sex.
There is a hilarious account of the young man becoming obsessed with Ms Wright, hunting down all her movies online and even purchasing her mail order sex toys. When his adopted mother catches him in flagrante with a blow up version of Cassie Wright she yells at him in absolute horror and disgust: ‘That’s your birth mother! That’s your birth mother!’
It’s clear that we are in familiar Palahniuk territory. The tension and questioning escalate as the men’s turn gets closer. It is a short enough book and so there would be no joy in dissecting the plot for you here, it would only ruin the surprise. Let’s just remind ourselves of the basic information that I have given you, the books title and use your imagination.
There are some great recurring themes in the novel, the first being a succession of anecdotes relating to Hollywood stars of days gone by. (E.g. about how Marilyn Monroe’s lifetime of bronchitis and pneumonia could have been attributed to her propensity for sitting in a bathtub full of ice before she would appear in public, so that her backside and breasts would remain pert and firm throughout any shoot she may have to do.), there is a truly graphic and knowledgeable insight into the world of hardcore pornography and just how successfully it has integrated itself into mainstream America.
Palahniuk talks of how pornography shaped the internet, of how it was the initial surge of online porn purchases and the developments therein that paved the way for the likes of eBay and Amazon. There are also some of the most wonderful titles for Porn movies in this book, such as: ‘The Gropes of Wrath’ ‘A Tale of Two Titties’ ‘To Drill A Mockingbird’ ‘The Wizard of Ass’ ‘Black Cock Down’ ‘Butt Pirates of the Caribbean’ and ‘Smokey and the Ass Bandit’ to name but a few (Believe me, there are dozens more to be found between the covers)
The ‘climax’ of the novel is as ridiculous as the minds of all the characters within. There is not one redeemable or even remotely likeable character in the whole thing. This is almost signatory of Palahniuk’s world though. The social commentary is nicely executed, if slightly blatant, but that’s not a major complaint.
With Palahniuk’s new book ‘Pygmy’ out this week, this may be a good time to reacquaint yourself with the man who, despite all the criticism, remains one of the most entertaining, intelligent and genuinely progressive authors in literary today. I have included a recent interview where Chuck discusses some of the upcoming movie projects associated with his work.
I have also included a link to Chuck’s most recent interview with Time Magazine, which can be read HERE
