G O D C L U B

THE REPORT

C O N T R I B U T O R S

Jesalyn Blount | David S. Blunk, II | David K. Geer | Justin Marshall | Isaac R. | Janine M. Surma | Ryanne Lumetta
Want to contribute as well? Or advertise? Or sponsor a project, release, or event? Email us.

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Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Emails from an Asshole

Quite, quite immature, but I found this guy's site, and had to share it somewhere -- http://www.dontevenreply.com . He answers random people's craigslist ads...Horribly.

Here's the first one I read:

Original ad:
Wanted: ride from philly to rehoboth beach

i am trying to leave any time next friday. i will pay for gas, and provide conversation.i am bringing a large duffel bag and a cat.
From Mike Partlow to ***********@*********.org

Hey,

I have to go to court in Rehoboth next Friday, so I would be able to give you a ride. I just want to know, you're female, right?

Mike

From chris ******** to Me

i am male. what time did you want to leave?
-chris

From Mike Partlow to chris *********

Chris,

I'm sorry, I thought you were female because you said you owned a cat. Sorry, but I don't want to give you a ride. Two dudes in a car, going to Rehoboth, it just seems a little gay. Better luck next time.

Mike

From chris ******** to Me

wtf how is that gay? i just want a ride!

From Mike Partlow to chris *********

Well normally I wouldn't think anything of it, but first off, you own a cat, and you are a dude. That is a huge red flag right there. Any normal straight guy wouldn't own a cat, and if he did, he wouldn't care about the cat enough to take it to the beach. Second, you want to go to Rehomo Beach. I'm not judging your lifestyle or anything man, I just don't want you gaying up my car. No offense. I don't even want to know what is in your duffel bag.

From chris ******** to Me

stfu dude why are you being a prick! im not fucking gay i just cant get a fucking ride to the beach! my GIRLFRIEND happens to have a house in rehoboth!!

From Mike Partlow to chris *********

Yeah, I'm sure he does.

I think Richard Simmons is driving down there next week, try to get a ride with him.

Friday, September 11, 2009

I received this in my inbox on Wednesday...


The time has come. The moment we have all been waiting for this summer. Let's start this season with a gay bang.
"Come to the Party" - M. K. S. to F.T. when she wasn't paying attention. SO achtung F.T.s!
The Stage is Set.

R e e n a S p a u l i n g s F i n e A r t is thrilled to announce....

K8 HARDY, artist
"to all the g#$%!s I've loved before"
OPENING SUNDAY SEPTEMBER 13TH, 6-8PM
(party to follow)
Reena Spaulings 165 East Broadway NY NY 10002


SHOW: September 13th - October 11th, 2009; Thursday through Sunday, Noon to 6pm

k
and new york, you know you haven't seen me for awhile, i've possibly been possessed by demons, and i'm using this opening and your presence as a ritual to magnetize all the "demons/disease" out of my body. mostly i am relying on the love friction of bodies around me, but i invite you to perform any exorcism really just missing you and all together making a room smell like ass.

On May 27th 2009 I wrote the following exciting press release:

Attention: (!!!!!_)

Reena Spaulings Fine Art

I don’t appreciate anyone trying to control my expressions and I will not let any gallery control what goes into a show of my art. I AM TAKING BACK TOTAL CONTROL! I don’t care if it won’t be any good. My work is fucking good! It’s not some minimalist anti-aesthetic don’t care about the world conceptual project, ok? It’s messy and I DON’T NEED YOU TO TAKE OVER THE PRODUCTION! I don’t want my hand taken out of my own fucking art show in order to take it “to the next level”. I am completely against that patriarchal view of success. I don’t care if my shit is unprofessional or tacky. I’ve been making art since before I ever walked into a gallery and been involved in crazier shit (LTTR) than this gallery.

ANYWAYS, All the guys my age are on their stupid Nintendo 9th show and I haven’t had one- so I got a lot of shit to show, ok? In fact I hope my shit show is really fucking bad and embarrassing for everyone in this super cool art scene. I want this to be the same as I had ten years ago in my dyke punk rock house: I’ve got something to say.

DO I HAVE ANY COLLECTORS ANYWAYS? Well you know that answer is NO. well why, why, why, I wonder why? So please just help me out this summer so this downwardly mobile “celesbian” can have her first show.

CRITIQUE THIS DADDY FUCKERS!


But before that I wrote...


“Re-working In the In-Between, Shaking It Out.”

The Process is Power conference caught my attention because it addresses two important issues for me:

1. Process as a foreign/other language inside one dominant language; frequently spoken by Lesbians but not limited to this Tribe; most often used outside of Patriarchal circles.

2. Process as a metaphor for working used most often in relation to Artists.

3.

These are topics I am currently investigating in my new work, “Notes on Lying”.

What motivates me? I am an artist and an outsider, both simultaneously and distinctively, so a total of 3.

I studied various fruits in my education, each one sliced or deconstructed an/other way, an endless amount of variations- but not quite infinity. Yet, when confronted with “Process” I tend to let it go. As I release this grip, or hailing, there creates a void, torn open through rejection. This void is an open space, never able to be filled or closed, that which is not one. And so I stand empty-handed before myself, and before my reader. But I’m convinced this situation needn’t remain so. I think if we stretch the limits, we might find some wonderful tools for regarding Process.

In a theoretical world, there are as many ways to view a situation as there are ways of viewers. For this reason, I will use simply my own, sketch it briefly and then illustrate some results. I don’t pretend to present any ground-breaking or revolutionary ideas in this text, just to shift my point of view, and possibly yours.

Fluidity, fragmentation, and pleasure are associated with the metaphorical ground breaking. The nascent intellectual current is conceptualism, a modality that creates a structure with hierarchies, it’s symbols and signs. It gives process a rigorous, “one, two” and then falls to the floor. So it’s not what I’m looking at, it’s not the finality, but the backwards unfolding. When I say backwards, I do invoke a form of linearity, but don’t limit it within actual directions.

The focus on “Process” by which meaning has been achieved inherently reveals feminist concerns. Inherently you may ask why? Inheritance is a patriarchal mode of moving power that distinctly and forthrightly excludes women, when I use the word woman now, just briefly to make my point, it is to classify that which is outside heteronormative patterns. Here I assert that again, my concern is not much with what has been said or made or produced. I postulate a different strategy, a risk, for the inscription of Process.

If to speak is to act and I say perform, perhaps performance is a form of lying? That’s philosophy. But it’s hard to answer if you consistently question what is Real.

Objects are less important than process. Process will never earn a dollar. As related in point #2, the (O)ther Tribes, have a whole foreign language of process. Communication and dialogue create friction, a small warmness. Lying is done with language, writing, and also the space between words. Gaping holes of nothing, caverns of emptiness, the liminality of abject unknown. A preferred space to occupy, like a country. Let us not forget power.

I don’t always want to be an artist. Part of it to me is about carrying around a heavy load of ideas and an intense drive to write about them. By writing I mean making art. By writing, I like to imply the gesture of my hand so may I also call it painting? Is it controlled? Is it messy? Is it queer as a two-dollar bill?

Politics are intrinsic here, activating questions and thoughts in the world we live in today; all wars considered. It’s a load of dirty clothes for most in the United States. However, I wear dirty clothes every day. Cleaning, putting away the mess, taking the visibility out of mess, making mess invisible, belongs to the privileged. Visibility now marches into the room, on the paper.

I think of my basic gesture as the American middle finger flying in the air of defiance. We’re supposed to be rebels anyways. I will name the specificity of my stance. Two able bodied legs supported by the ground in the United States of America, foreign soil.

So who owns what and why? Who claims to own the unknown thing that dares not bare its name? If one had to live in a closet, lying out of necessity, does the closet ever leave the room?

Persona is a reaction to Patriarchy. As everyone searches for their true self, they use the fake one they have been given, or fail miserably at that effort. Authenticity is slippery. Mimicry is the tenet of femininity.

It’s easy to obsess over the little things, scrape off the top layer of eye shadow your sister’s friend gave you from her stash of samplers at the department store where they both work. She’s a make up artist. It’s another kind of great artist. I look at the scraped up dirty little pads of packed powder and wonder if the germs from all the rich ladies, because it is a nice department store, I wonder if they could seep all the way to the bottom, totally saturate the rectangle of color. No matter, I’ll let my immune system work it out.

It’s so rude when an acquaintance maybe friend says, “I’m going out with my girlfriends tonight, me and my girlfriend, I just love all my girlfriends, and I really need to have girlfriends.” The gendered friendships keep slapping me on the face with their hallowed placement. Now every time I here a sex signifier I become suspect. I feel like there must be something conservative lurking around it. And these days you can guarantee if something is called a Women’s group, it’s usually for conservative means.

It’s scary how activist terms can get co-opted to the point of innocuous. Yet still I am part separatist and have no problem with making statements about Men. Oh Power. No problem at all. Bold statements regarding the still dominant sex, but oh how those women dream that’s behind us. It’s oh so embarrassing for straight people. Ha ha ha. Must we really bring that up? Let’s just party and have a good time. tickle tickle he he. Me and my girlfriends are liberated.

Stereotypes can’t contain the people within them. It’s violent. So take me on my own terms, or lay yours out so that I can see them. Take a position. I’m wary of silent terms, unspoken, invisible ground.

I’m still not fitting in. I’m a collision. You know what I mean?

Should we decide what to do together? I’m stuck in a pattern. I want to continue. I want clarity. The emotions are muddled. I have a deep commitment. I have conceptual questions. I want to check out.

It’s time to look over all my notes and find some more meaning. I need to keep adding meaning, searching. I make no apologies. I want everything to be clear to myself, not to you.

And coffee. Why does it have to be so bad for you? Is it? Everything is bad. All the artists are sober tea drinkers eating lots of greens and staying in shape. No more drugs, we run our studios like a tight little business ship. You can’t be a mess if you want to succeed!

I’m flipping pages. I’m looking at old super 8 movies. Animals I filmed at the zoo, incessantly walking back and forth, pacing in the cage, back and forth and back and forth in black and white. It’s kinda hard to watch. I think about Guantanamo. I think about this upcoming election and I get freaked out. The elephants are out of focus. The footage from France with the topless girls on the beach makes you want to question your participation in perversity, that’s the United States at work in your mind.

My jeans are dirty. The special black jeans from Trash & Vaudeville where the punks have been making the same cut of jeans since the real deal. The ass has ripped so many times, just came back from the tailor at the dry cleaners, and I feel like I am walking around with a diaper on. It’s weird but my ass still looks good in them. I wish I could afford new clothes. Some avant-garde designer with the freakiest weird shit, who knows if they even sell it to stores even.

I still believe in the male gaze. Seems like everyone has given up on that.

Different ideas. I’d like to dress up as each of my friends and take their portrait, a portrait of me, an homage. Maybe I’ll do it but I wonder if it’s worth it.

The underwear were merely a symbol for the body. The location of the most disgusting form of abjection. I chose the underwear for the location. I buy used underwear. Everyone says they don’t do it. I mean, I check the crotch and make sure it’s not stained, and only if they are like really cool or interesting. And of course I wash them before I wear them. A friend lost my favorite pair of crotch-less panties while performing in the Miss L.E.S. Pageant. Can’t blame her for that. I got them from a Saver’s in Springfield. Now used crotch-less panties no worries. They were low-cut, black lace, from the 70s.

I like to carry around my twenty-something half finished notebooks and journals. I want to finish them because I don’t want to waste the paper. I wish I was an eco-terrorist, but I try to get close. So I try to carry around them with me wherever I go if it is a significant amount of time. I have little ones and regular too. At a certain point a journal will become so time specific that I can’t possibly add to it. Then I will tear out the unused pages and recycle them, making lists and notes and whatnot. I’m so jealous of those hyper organized people. They probably keep their lists in their journals and never fall behind deadlines.

The fancy ones are nice. I can’t afford them all the time, but then who cares. If they get too precious yr fucked because the pages’ value combat the value of your words. You see someone with those pristine perfect notebooks, perhaps in black leather? You wonder, what kind of ideas are going into that special notebook? Probably ones that are continuing to make that person richer. I digress, but details like that are always on my mind. I’m not jealous, just aware. Details, like I was saying. Signifiers as others properly note.

I look cute today and I would like to go somewhere and be appreciated for it. Guess I’d like to go thrift shopping or somewhere public or something in a cruising zone but my money is so tight I can’t even afford that, much less the cab I would need home. I suppose most people could resolve that problem on the Internet, a blog or whatever. I need immediacy, human contact, and human feelings. I need to feel desired.

I’m really pushing it now in a total new over the edge way. Credit cards are maxed out, no more savings. It’s weird to identify with what the politicians are saying, like hey that’s me. No Health insurance, no nothing, broke. hahaha. Borrowed some cash from a friend. Never done that before. Big fucking sigh. I’m freaking out about food but I still continue to look glamorous and that is so confusing. No not the looking part, that’s confusing to other people, it’s the notoriety. I’m not supposed to complain about that. It’s just alienating when you’re broke. And I’m an elitist, and educated, total cultural elitist.

Downwardly mobile they used to say and still some may say about me. It doesn’t stick though anymore. My generation can’t expect to do better than their parents, like our parents could. So there is a downward shift and then slap on being an artist, slap on fighting to be an artist, and downward the finances go. Maybe I’m just in shock cuz I was raised middle class.

Isn’t that so embarrassing for some people? Yet they don’t know what it’s like to have nothing to lose. I wonder how much my not boring life is worth. It sure is fetishized. Glamour. Is that what it costs? It feels like poetic vindication to all the boring straight people out perhaps. They’ve got the Internet, TV, and magazines but not the people.

Is that mean? I really don’t want to sound mean but then I’m afraid I couldn’t write anything down at all.

I’d like to just walk around and let my tits accidentally fall out of my shirt, or hang out. I’m an exhibitionist so it gets me off. Ask an old crotch and she still may say it’s an offense against women. I’d like to offend men and women simultaneously.

I’d like to do a performance with an amp so I could get so loud. I have so many fucking ideas like an idiot high school boy with a boner and a guitar.

Timing again. It’s weird when someone gives you flowers. Every time my dad fucked up or made me mad I would get flowers. It’s like the offense of making your girl cry, not an apology. Flowers make it all better. I like getting flowers now. Maybe it’s the city or the person sending them has better taste than carnations. Really it’s the luxury and color and gesture. Is that killing the earth?

I like to spray myself with perfume before I go to bed. Roll in it. Especially the ones I don’t wear out anymore, like CK1. I was 16 going to gay clubs in Dallas by myself. It was hot. That smell permeated the whole fucking club and that whole time period. You couldn’t turn around without smelling it. I would bring an apple to the Village Station, the three story-12 room mega dance floor gay club, and dance for hours on end. I was exhilarated. Just dancing, no drinks. The thrill of gay movement and being on a floor without being ogled or mauled by men was beyond any free space I had ever known. It was mostly men there. A separate room and bar, of course, for the drag queen shows. I was transfixed, the only white girl with bleach blonde hair in the corner. Often then I was the only white girl and I really enjoyed that.

I feel subservient to the politically righteous conceptual artists of my peers. They frame themselves in such a safe way, who could argue? If you did, if you dare to disagree, then you disagree with the politics. Sometimes I feel like that is what is put on the line, challenge me and my feminist work and that means you are ignorant and patriarchal. And I don’t know what they risked. I guess I want that. I want to feel a little passion. I want to put up a high school art show. I’m not a minimalist. I want to make a mobile, can’t decide out of what.

“I pledge allegiance to shit” is what my Born Against t-shirt said in high school. A soldier saluting a coffin. I got sent home one day for wearing it. Maybe I can find it on eBay. I almost got up to do just that as I wrote it.

I’m horny but I don’t feel like doing anything about it. It’s the end of my period. My flower pharmacy panties are ragged out. I have a thing for pharmacy panties. Especially if I am in a foreign country. I want to touch the average woman. In Austria they had thongs at the pharmacy, could you imagine? Here they call the condom section family planning. We have a language problem in this country.

It barely gets hot up here and that makes me homesick, though by now I don’t know if home could be used properly in that world. I guess there is a forever argument regarding that one and formative years.

I’m probably too old by mainstream standards to walk around with my ass hanging out of my pants like this, but I guess that’s the beauty of it. I keep having to battle my personality aka performance against my work. It’s like S says about how people decide to take things seriously or not. By now I’m not going out of my way to suntan in order to keep my skin looking nice. I’m concerned about wrinkles.

I have deep dream fantasies of places to call home. Houses on the beach left with the past inhabitants possessions including a closet of vintage clothes. Every one of these places unfolds and becomes an endless maze of undiscovered bedrooms and closets. Our parents all expected us to do better than they themselves, only this time the American dream didn’t work that way. None of us expect to do better, doing as in money having. Although we all hope for it. It leaves us in this hole of expectation without work. Not that I can compare myself too much, if I did have the same values, I would be doing “better” most likely.

So here I AM an artist and what do I have to hold on to?

Some respond RIGHT ON SISTER, I am feeling you.

Others are confused, think, she’s asking them to look at her and look away at the same time. I feel compelled to look. Another says FUCK YOU TOO.


Saturday, August 29, 2009




GOD CLUB IS back in action with our two-day renegade boutique at the People's Arts Festival! Come check us out! Hand-silkscreened clothing and accessories, GOD CLUB records, cds, dvds & tapes, zines, pamphlets, gifts, art, prints, a porn collection, and much MUCH more! All priced to move! Support your favorite local fag punk collective!

Thursday, August 20, 2009

R.I.P., G.C.D.R..




IF YOU HAVEN'T already noticed, The Report has been and will be on a slight hiatus, as the contributors have been moving, acclimating to new conditions, and preparing for our annual large-scale installation/renegade boutique at the People's Art Festival at the Russel Industrial Center complex, here in Detroit (this year it's August 29-30).

We'll see you around.

In the meantime, we'll be regularly updating and adding new content to our main site, http://www.godclub.org .

Tuesday, June 16, 2009


THIS FRIDAY, God Club's STEVIE will be performing his first live show of 2009, as well as his 150th live show, ever, at the Anton Art Center's, "Collected" exhibit, featuring some of Detroit's newest artistic output groups. God Club is also prominently featured within the Center's main gallery, with a yet-to-be-documented site-specific installation.

STEVIE's performance will be supported by a live Skypecast from sUPERIORBELLY's Beverly Fresh (a.k.a. Zack Ostrowski), and surrounded by deejay performances from a few special surprise God Club compatriots, contributors, and comrades.

For those of you who cannot make it, evidence forthcoming. To the rest of you -- take a trip out to Suburbia to celebrate with us!

The Anton Art Center is at 125 Macomb Place, Mount Clemens, MI 48043. The Friday 19 June 2009 event is from 10PM until 1AM, Eighteen and over please, with a cash bar for those of legal age.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

DARK ASS BATS!


DARK ASS BATS!

Dark Ass Bats: New Dethlab residency.

SATANIC TECHNO | FIST PUNK | DRONEWAVE | BOOTGAZE | ETCZ.

Summer fun for all.

First Wednesdays during the summer on the Magic Stick roof deck w/ resident DJs Dethlab & Sean Whaley starting Wed. 6/3/09 / *FREE* / 10PM-2AM

xox

http://dethlab.net
http://www.myspace.com/teamdethlab
http://www.majesticdetroit.com

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(On an unrelated note: My sincere apologies to readers and contributors -- I have been without power at home [meaning, as well, regular Internet access] for over a week, hence my lack of presence, contribution, and editing. This will all be resolved soon. Thanks for your patience and understanding. My only two words for this situation: FUCK DTE...)

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

QUEER THINGS

Molly Landreth has a new blog!




Embodiment: A Portrait of Queer Life in America, is an archive and a journey through a rapidly changing community and the lives of people who offer brave new visions of what it means to be queer in America today.

Molly photographed David Geer and I at our old apartment in the Cass Corridor around one year ago. Her project is both vital and beautiful, so I strongly suggest you check out her stuff and buy a print or two (at $50 each, you can't really complain)!

In other news, our favorite video artist turned YouTube celebrity turned art world wunderkind Ryan Trecartin is working on a new project called The Trilogy Series. It's first installments are now on display at the New Museum as a part of it's new Triennial "The Generational: Younger Than Jesus" and at The Fabric Workshop and Museum in Philadelphia.

This is all super cool.

As an aside, I'm totally going to see Fischerspooner this Sunday with my mom. I hope it doesn't ruin the magical performance that christened the golden days of my teen years!

Friday, May 22, 2009

Sorry ya'll, God Club has been really busy, moving, opening for the Prodigy, and jus--you know, livin' life.


How come I never knew about this?? Black Eye Peed herself. ( I know this is way old news)

Also, I emailed a place looking for handmade things for their store. I sent them pictures of my (sweet) cat toys and this is what the dude wrote back (you may know his store American Pop in Ferngully):

"Cat toys are readily available wholesale as well as at the dollar store.
Your designs are cool, I suggest you think of smaller versions filled with cotton to be worn as jewelry; also adopting the toys into coin purses by creating a zipper on one side, and try some pliable vinyl scraps that would have a shine and be spot resistant instead of felt."


WHATEVER MANNNNN. Don't tell me how to live my life.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

This Friday


GOD CLUB group show:






and then Ryanne and I will have a sculpture on view for our dear friend John Ryan here:


John Ryan & Detroit By Design Present ::

THE REVENGE OF DOCTOR DISKO DUST

Friday May15th 2009 † BOHEMIAN NATIONAL HOUSE

3009 Tillman St. Detroit 48216

DJ SETS BY

BRENDAN M GILLEN (Ectomorph)

CARLOS SOUFFRONT

JOHN RYAN (Spacelings & Bassheads)

NAI SAMMON


ARTWORK BY

NAI SAMMON † CHRIS POTTINGER † DAN BING
ISAAC R & RYANNE † ZACH ZALAC & CHRIS SPRAGUE


VIDEO ART PROJECTIONS BY DEMONBABIES

flyer by demonbabies & john ryan

Monday, May 11, 2009

PAINT FIGHT.

You know what's really fun? PAINT FIGHTS.

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Thanks, saram0nk. And thanks to Corey to ruining my favorite hoodie (it was all his fault, actually). Oh, and thanks to Mike Burnlab for pointing out the serendipitous moment (he had seen this video [the Kills aren't so much my thing] the night before, and we'd been to the show that night). Nuts!

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Wishing I was here:



Because
A. Soulja Boy is totally cute

and

B. They have Flamin Hot FRITOS!

Shut the fuck up!

jealous...

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Tonite!! Just confirmed...

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

SORRY FOR BEING SO THIRD WAVE, BUT

this is pretty sweet.

I really don't want to suck Amy Poehler's dick any more than necessary, but it's kind of exciting to see people very publicly reifying how cool it is to be a smart, weird little girl and to not tip toe around Feminism, even if it is super watered down and commercially supported by Barbie. It sends the message that a necessity for consciousness raising doesn't have to be a polemic and that just living can act as a testament to the power of difference.

Plus, little girls in middle school with hobbies is like, the cutest thing ever and makes me wish I didn't feel like I needed to be a boy at that time in my life and would've been an even more intense faggot.

Monday, May 4, 2009

I can't help my apathy for the art that I see in Detroit lately, or just living in Detroit in general and how bleak things really are around here. But here is a recap of some shows I have seen lately. Some good, some bad.

Yes Farm

Yes Farm is actually pretty great. I was confused by a lot of the art and I wish I would have known who was running it so I could have asked questions, but over all the space is really cool. It's in a house and you walk through rooms and there is art all over. There is also a performance space. I didn't see any of the performances but I was told they were cool. It seems like a 'community' place that wasn't just young white people taking over a neighborhood and actually not including the neighborhood. There were people who lived close-by who made food, and their kids were there hanging out. Also, they have a community garden.

Design 99

Design 99's new space is a lot better than the last one, but I am still confused as to how they stay in business when they don't have that much stuff in their store (they might start carrying Wowzer's Meowzers cat toys). I didn't really know anything about Stupor the 'zine the show was about, but I really like what I saw/read. The dude who writes the 'zine had Detroit artists design covers for the issues he was selling during the show, and the one I bought was only $1.50. Also it was a beer and chip reception, which I appreciate.

Detroit Artist Market

The Artist Market is one of the only galleries in town that always has a huge turnout for their openings and where I always see work being sold, and people buying stuff from their shop. To be honest I was there to see the art, but also to see how they had my cat toys displayed (in a glass bowl, it's pretty great). This is an all media exhibit, there was some interesting work. Something I am confused about lately is why I keep going to shows and photos that are blatantly, unembarrasingly manipulated in Photoshop win awards.

Cpop

The end of an era? Not to me. I keep having weird conversations with people on why I don't like Cpop and I don't really care that they are closing (or not really closing?). I don't care about kitsch art, or pop art. Aren't people over it yet? There is an age group that I think will never get over it and have never looked beyond the art that is shown in Cpop and don't think there is anything beyond that sort of art. To me it's not that interesting, and there is never anything new shown or done with it. I don't dislike everything shown at Cpop, and when I was 17 I thought it was the coolest place ever, but I got over it pretty quickly. The whole time I was there I felt like I was having a panic attack and that I was trapped forever inside a Niagara painting. I'm not saying I like seeing galleries close, but galleries close all the time in real cities, it's not the end of the world.

In Conclusion

There are always new venues and art spaces popping up all over Detroit. They usually don't last that long. People who run these places really need to get together and think of ways that they can make their spaces more sustainable and where people will actually come to the shows, and they can somehow make money and stay open.

Saturday, May 2, 2009



Who is interested? I am really tired of listening to shitty music every day of my life, so I think we should start channeling the dead, beginning with Tamion 12 Inch. I miss the pre New-Hippy Detroit music scene, and its mainly because I honestly don't care about much music that happened before Kate Bush and I don't want to hear anything that sounds so blatantly nostalgic of a past that none of these people were involved in. So instead of going backwards generations, why don't we go backwards, like, a few years and have a seance for Tamion. We can try and remember the passwords to our PhotoBucket accounts from 2004 and find photographs, we can read zine articles I wrote about them and we can dance and yell and cry all night, or at least for the length of their discography, which may only be like, 90 minutes, but whatever, it'll be great.

D O N A T I O N S

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T A G S / L A B E L S

D I S C L A I M E R

Any musical content posted herein is either created by the Contributors, or published solely for promotional and evaluational purposes. All questionable content will be removed immediately upon request from the Creator. Please do not threaten to sue us. We know our rights. Stupid jerks.

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