Archive for Tinto Brass

“Con Te Partiro”; With You I Leave (Sunday AM Punk Rock Gospel)

Posted in Art & Culture, Art Lover, Livin' La Vida Frida, Style & Fashion, Sunday AM Punk Rock Gospel with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 18, 2010 by alphabetfiend

When you are far away I dream on the horizon and words fail, and I do know that you are with me, with me, with me. You, my moon, you are here with me. My sun, you are here with me, with me, with me, with me. With you I will leave.

As you may already know, I’ve been a most irresponsible ringleader. I’ve only recently returned to Cream Scene Carnival after a long hiatus. It wasn’t until I returned that I learned I had any “real” readers and now that I know, I’ve promised no more extended absences.

But can a gypsy-carnie with a history of wanderlust really make such a vow?

Well… yes.

Some time away doesn’t seem like such a big deal except for when it comes to one reoccurring post: The Sunday A.M. Punk Rock Gospel. The column I obsessed over and that no one ever read (besides The Reliable One) but he loved it too so I forged ahead with the idea. The idea?

A temple built of alphabet & musical notes, a church constructed of code, a sacrament of song.

I call it “The Punk Rock Gospel” though only some of the song choices are officially “punk rock.” It’s our attitude that’s punk rock. 

We’re outside the religious main-stream but still ass-kicker omen-seeker mystic-minded mutants who are looking for a moment of holy meditation but on our own damn terms.

No nun to rap our knuckles, no priest to diddle us under our choir robes. No bigot to tell us who to love or hate. No big-mouth phoney with his pants down and his hand out. No saintly soul with her lips pursed & judging our upblown skirts as we smirk all Tinto-Brass balls-out saucy. No one luring our loved one to the woods and striking her down because she is beautiful and he wants her which makes him hate her. (RIP Ronnie. The Robot-Boy misses you.) No one to tell us which hotdog to eat. No one to chop at the genitals of our babes. No one to shame us for unabashedly loving eachother and ourselves.

Now watch as I pass out pastels and ooh and ahh as you draw chalky caricatures of Muhammad on the sidewalk.

No one to kill us afterwards.

Down with the dogma! Up with the dada!

When I started Cream Scene Carnival, I had high hopes for the punk rock gospel. I wanted people to read it, to love it, to listen to the songs and then to come back again. And again.

It seemed as if it would never happen. Now, almost out of nowhere, my hopes have been realized. Y’all are reading the punk rock gospel! You’re coming back the next week and the next week too! I’m so happy I could fly my own heart like a bright red kite.

Which is why I MUST find my way here every single Saturday night or early Sunday morning (Monday at the latest?) Either that or I must initiate others to serve as Gurus of Garage Rock or Mofos of Funk for those times when I am unavailable in any of my holy guises: High-Priestess of Tom-foolery; Trickster Fox Fortune-teller; Lipstick Shamaness. Finding a sacred sub is really the perfect solution as it means a fresh perspective or a whole new kind of song on a special kinda Sunday.

This week is in that spirit, even though I am here (having hauled my butt to a late-night diner to surf their wireless.) So it’s me whose typing these words today but it’s a reader — and new interwebby friend, Alice — who chose this video and song. She sent the link to me after a recent post on Frida Kahlo’s 103rd birthday. Maybe, if you are lucky, Alice will contribute her own thoughts/”gospel” in the comments. Although I’ve noticed that a normal modest person with decent goodness and the appropriate level of humility doesn’t take easily to the idea of writing “gospel”. I say, Phooey! and Screw that chicken til the feathers fly! I say take the word “gospel” and make it work for you. I say that God was created by us and is ours to recreate.

Of course there are those who will gasp — aghast! — and call me a hell-bound heathen. But the way I look at it, I’m keeping my heavenly options open. Wide open. I’m after an all-access pass! If I wanna smoke a stogey with the Devil after a day of wind-surfing with Jesus but before a long night of drunken club-hopping with Artemis and Venus, well then, so fucking be it. These are OUR MYTHS and we should be able to interact with them freely.

On that note, I’d like to open up the Sunday A.M. Punk Rock Gospel to all of you because it was my gift to you and now it’s yours. That doesn’t mean I won’t keep writing week after week but it does mean that I am open to song suggestions or topics of discussion. Anyone interested in guest-hosting a punk rock gospel (choosing song, video & theme, as well as writing the text) should raise their hand with a hell yea! or a why the hell not!?

This week’s song is Com Te Pardis or “With you, I Will Leave” (also known as “Time to Say Goodbye.”) The song is sung by Andrea Bocelli and was “chosen” by Alice who “gifted” it to me after a tough couple weeks in which I wrestled with issues of loss, grief and death. As Alice and I discussed, there’s always that shamanic meaning within injury, illness or trauma.

Let us be the ones to look for those gifts which aren’t showy or jewel-encrusted.

Let us be the ones to love being alive and to never ever be too cool, too hip or too busy to (know) show it.

Let us be the ones who find a new spirit in the rubble of religion.

Let us be Lizard Kings! Let us be everything!

Livin’ la vida Frida!!

Con Te Partiro; With You, I Will Leave

(With you, I leave)

Quando sono solo sogno all’orizzonte e mancan le parole
(When I’m alone I dream of the horizon and words fail)

si, lo so che non c’e luce in una stanza quando manca il sole
(Yes, I know there is no light in a room when the sun is absent)

se non ci sei tu con me / con me
(If you are not with me / with me)

su le finestre
(at the windows)

mostra a tutti il mio cuore che hai acceso
(show everyone my heart which you set alight)

chiudi dentro me la luce che / hai incontrato per strada
(give to me the light / you found on the street)

con te partiro
(with you i will leave)

paesi / che non ho mai
(countries which i have never)

veduto e vissuto con te
(seen and experienced with you)

adesso, si, li vivro
(now, yes, i will live them)

con te partiro
(with you i will leave)

su navi per mari
(on ships across seas)

che, io lo so / no, no, non esistono piu
(which, i know, no, no, no longer exist)

con te io li vivro
(with you i will live them)

quando sei lontana sogno all’orizzonte e mancan le parole
(when you are far away I dream on the horizon and words fail)

e io si lo so che sei con me / con me
(and I do know that you are with me, with me)

tu, mia luna, tu sei qui con me
(you, my moon, you are here with me)

mio sole, tu sei qui con me, con me, con me, con me
(my sun, you are here with me, with me, with me, with me)

con te partiro
(with you I will leave)

paesi che non ho mai
(countries which i have never)

veduto e vissuto con te
(seen and experienced with you)

adesso, si, li vivro
(now, yes, i will live them)

con te partiro
(with you i will leave)

su navi per mari
(on ships across seas)

che, io lo so / no, no, non esistono piu
(which, i know, no, no, no longer exist)

con te io li rivivro
(with you i will relive them)

con te partiro
(with you i will leave)

su navi per mari
(on ships across seas)

che, io lo so, no, no, non esistono piu
(which, i know, no, no, exist no longer)

con te io li rivivro
(with you i will relive them)

Io con te!
(I’m with you!)

********************************

*The surrealist pieces Angels of Death & Infinity are by George Gris and are available as prints.

I love how the Angel of Death has the rowboat which she sails in the song: “With you I will leave, on ships across seas, which, I know, no, no, no longer exist, with you I will relive them, with you I will leave, on ships across seas.”

I’ll be all gypsy-wild & on the road after this is published so there may be some delay in answering comments. But I’ll be back. Be assured.

(Ala)Skin Flick: Larry Flint to Make a Palin Porn

Posted in Feminism (Shades of Gray), I like big butts & I can not lie, politics, Porn Stars are Peeple too, Psyche & Sexuality, Rock & Roll, Sex & XXX with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 2, 2008 by alphabetfiend

Yet another craning look up Sarah Palin’s (mini)skirt*….

"No one's been mocked more than Sarah Palin, since Jesus Christ hit the earth." -- Austin's own, Kinky Friedman

"No one's been mocked more than Sarah Palin since Jesus Christ hit the earth." -- Austin's own, Kinky Friedman

Larry Flint is looking to tap (giggety) America’s indecent interest in the Repub VP Nom. Flint’s famously x-rated mind has hand-picked (giggety) a Palin look-a-like to star in his political project.

Flint better get this out out ASAP

Flint better get this sucker out out ASAP

      Larry Flint has fought hard for his rights and sacrificed hugely which has made him an unlikely American hero. Like it or leave it, Flint is definitely a freedom loving freedom fighting American. Maybe you wish he had less freedom but I hope not because that would make you less American than Mr. Flint.
      In College, when devouring Women’s Studies classes, I wrestled with my views on porn. I asked myself “Did I hate Larry Flint?” so I learned more about him. Eventually, as my freedom affords, I made up my own mind on the issue. Porn just isn’t my thing aesthetically. I like a few pounds and a few pubes on a woman and the men….well, a beautiful member doesn’t make for a beautiful man. Now a dirty cartoon complete with sound effects & ample bouncy booty, that’s more like it. I’m too playful and cerebral to enjoy mainstream porn. I’m more of a Tinto Brass kinda girl. (The bicycle scene in Frivolous Lola is some juicy delish!)
      Still I kinda love Larry Flint.
      I admire his voice if not his vision.
      I choose pervy Larry over the hatred that left him paralyzed. I’d rather spend a tropical vacation with Flint than with the a-hole who shot him. He’s more my kinda people. I’ll take a tenacious kinkster over a violent hater every damn time.
      As for the argument that porn is violence against women, I just refuse. I don’t think we should be making any excuses for violent offenders. Violence is a choice. When a rapist rapes, the only person who is robbed of choice is his victim. I don’t give a damn if my man subscribes to Playboy or if Flint publishes Hustler but rapists are scum whose issues run much deeper than their jack-stash. If you think I’m “part of the patriarchy” for having my own opinion then maybe you need a jack-stash of your own. I recommend Tinto Brass. (Especially if you’re an ass-man. Or booty-lady, either way, if you love the bum rent some Brass.)
No wonder Palin has "energized the Republicans"*

No wonder Palin has "energized the Republicans"*

      As usual, Larry Flint has his finger on the pulse-pulse of America’s privates. We’re obviously quite titillated by this stranger they call Sarah Palin. In Chicago, a painter hung a nude portrait of Palin in a pub and folks flocked in for icy mugs of brewsky and a lil’ look-see. (I posted a piece about the artist Bruce Everett and his nudie gun-toting Palin yesterday and it beat out one on McCain’s desires to be a dictator. Scary.) So don’t blame Flint, blame yer grand-dad or your uncle or yourself. We’re Americans! We reserve the right to sexualize our VP nominees. (So far Margaret Cho’s done it best.)
      We do it because we don’t know what else to do with her. Sarah Palin is an unqualified nobody who stumbles over the simplest of policy questions. (As I write this, Katie Couric is on the CBS news saying “The polls show that Governor Palin is declining in her ability to understand complex issues.”)  Sarah Palin has nothing to say so our minds wander and our eyes stray… we wonder “Hmm, hows’zer rack?”  What else are we supposed to do with a dumb as rocks beauty queen turned PTA mom turned mayor of nowhere who wants to strip us of our rights?
      Palin wants to strip us of our rights, so we wanna strip Palin of her clothes.
She's perty...
      If the Repubs didn’t want us to objectify Sarah Palin they should’ve nominated someone who brought more than pretty to the podium. Alas. I blame that old horndog McCain. He started it! Someone brought him a stack of files and he picked the one with the hottest photo. It was an easy choice for the man with a lifesize Barbie. McCain’s Missus even moves like a Barbie doll. I suspect he used his military clearance to put a perfectly-coiffed plastic Barbie into a top-secret machine and then pressed the button that said “Big.”
      Fortunately for Flint, porn can be shot in an afternoon. It shouldn’t be too hard to hustle up some red stripper heels, a polar bear pelt, a loaded rifle and a moose who shits himself. Tell the “actress” to swing by Lenscrafters on her way.  It should be shot-shipped-&-edited by Friday.  Just in time for a Saturday’s bored & bothered self love session. Flint will act quick. He’ll have to. Palin’s 15 minutes are almost up. GULP. I hope.
      For the sake of alphabetfiend, I’ll watch it but I REFUSE to enjoy it. Sure, I’ll laugh my ass off but that’s ALL my ass is getting. Unless we pop in a little Tinto Brass afterwards, y’know, cause it’s Saturday and we’re bored. Here at the Dollhouse, we’re more psyched to see Homer vote for Obama.  The Simpsons’ episode won’t air until November 2 but the Palin porn may be at yer door this Saturday morn. Enjoy!
Palin was mentioned to capture the feminist vote but got the "giggety" vote instead.

Palin was meant to capture the feminist vote but got the "Giggety" vote

*Aside from the shoulders up b&w photo the rest of these Palin piks are obviously doctored; in fairness & feminism, check out the Palin Sexism Watch.
*As Katie Couric said on CBS news.

Alphabetfiend is Dia VanGunten — a writer & wanna-be circus freak living in Austin, Texas.

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