Clint Catalyst's Blog

A Muffled Beep Beside Me

Is the title of a poem that debuted in print along with the editorial brilliance [compliment directed towards the team with whom I had the good fortune of working, BTW] in Giuseppina magazine 21 : The Acceptance Issue.

And not that you asked . . . but yes : In my continued assault against the expected, this piece was composed in a form not open but rather fixed, or — despite how deliciously perverse I consider usage of the term, a myriad of connotations attached to it as stead-fast as a spiked cilice to the inner thigh of an Opus Dei — strict.

By no means is it my intention to imply that free verse is inferior, but rather familiar. Hence, exploring the paradoxical freedoms of composing within a limited; i.e., formal poetic structure . . . namely, one of my own creation? Oftentimes the experience is nothing short of numinous.

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numinous (adj.) : describing an experience that makes one fearful yet fascinated, awed yet attracted — the powerful, personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspired

Zoetica Ebb and Clint Catalyst for Giuseppina Magazine

Giuseppina Magazine : Halloween Edition : Blood Red V.5

Release Date : October 30, 2014

Editor-In-Chief : Jessica Rowell of J-Chan’s Designs

Zoetica Ebb and
Make-Up Artist :
Photography : Deniz Uzunoglu

Hair : Master Stylist Irene Urias @ Hairroin Salon

Clothing / Fashion Design / Accessories : Mother of London by

Alright, I realize this blog tends to be a bit Zo-centric . . . though not without sufficient cause! Not only is The Intergalactic Naturalist, Prodigal Cosmonomad and Mercury Vagabond a mega-talented creature of massive multi-media creative outpourings; moreover, not only is she one of the most stead-fast, stand-up, all-around superlative friends one could hope to have . . . but also, that beauty! The solo shot in which she’s serving Military Chic? Seriously : Can. Not. Get over!

On a similar tip : Steady gagging over the radness of a certain Editor-In-Chief, who featured me giving face two issues prior; then surprised me with the back cover slot, current ish! [So much adoration and admiration, Jessica! Truly . . . Truly : It's an honor and a privilege ♥]

Giuseppina Magazine Facebook † Tumblr † Twitter † Instagram † Google+

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The Hangers also express mad gratitude to / musician / promoter and international nightclub impresario Mario Diaz for the benevolent usage of his estate, Casa de la Decadencia.

Incidentally, the full-frontal, effing incandescent career of none other than Mssr. Deez-The-Deed Diaz was immortalized on celluloid earlier this year, via the release of Club King — a feature-length documentary directed by , in which the solar system of this evening star is chronicled in all its sordid, dazzling glory. Check it!

Clint Catalyst, Darenzia and Johnny Raymond for Giuseppina Magazine

Cover Story / Editorial Feature for Giuseppina 21 : The Acceptance Issue

Release Date : August 20, 2014

Editor-In-Chief : Jessica Rowell of J-Chan’s Designs

With
Photography : Dirk Mai

Make-Up Artist : Shandra Jade

Hair : Master Stylist Irene Urias @ Hairroin Salon

FAIR / FORE WARNING : IMAGES “BENEATH THE CUT” ARE NSFW

Giuseppina Magazine Facebook † Tumblr † Twitter † Instagram † Google+

Vielen Dank, Jessica! ♥

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This Bitch Is Glitched

Glitch / Digital Art by Clint Catalyst
2014

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Wherever She Goes, There She Is

or : [ Haunted ] : an animated glitch GIF

Text editors, hex editors &mdash In my continued novice experimentations with image / file corruption, occasionally I encounter data that doesn’t seem to need any data “bending,” per se.

Wraith-like and writhing, can you / do you see the fantasm trapped inside this loop, struggling for respite . . . fighting for release?

POX : Quit Your Screamin’ and Start Streamin’!

Listen up! ‘Cause in case you haven’t heard . . . The movie POX

Written and directed by the wildly talented, wicked creative, and impressively prolific Lisa Stockton-Wilson — perhaps better known to the masses as singer / song-writer / musician / thespian / all-around Uh-Huh, Don’t-You-Wish-You-Were-Her phenomenonicon Miss —

can be obtained for the “I Mean ; I Can’t Even” section of your DVD collection.

However, for those of you more on the instant gratification tip? The film is also available for streaming, by way of the almighty TLA Video.

This already-cult classic [ as in, like: Seriously, Mary . . . Where Have You Been? ] stars the inimitable as none other than POX himself.

In addition to our fearless cult leader, a slew of other luminaries appear in this cinematic delight — including :

Who? The dude from Gregg Araki‘s ever-incandescent, Thrill Kill Kult samplin’, endless-source-of-one-liners The Doom Generation? As in : That movie with Rose McGowan so white hot in her role as Amy Blue that you either wanted to be her or be with her or what-the-fuck-ever / I-can’t-even-relate-to-you, and Parker Posey‘s best cameo appearance probably, oh, ever, and of course Margaret Cho also shows because we’ve known she’s way fucking cool since long before your newbie ass was schooled how obnoxious it is for one to refer to himself by the majestic plural “we”? And uh-huh, dark-sider with so much erudite goth damage I bet even your toilet paper and tissue is pitch-hued : even and especially I’m looking at you when I reference how cEvin Key from Skinny Puppy fractured his knee during filming?

Yes. Yes, that

And nope, the omission of Frank the Rabbit and Donnie Darko from my truncated ramble was neither oversight nor indication aforementioned title is not also chamber-tombed to my heart [for it is! It is : and how] but rather a reminder that fucking OATH, my beloved Bloggination! There’s a topic of much greater import to which I’m attempting to tend!

So, um. That being said? The film also features . . .

Kimberly Dzwonkowski, a.k.a. , whose performance is so effing g-damn genius; it’s full-on intracranial hemorrhage territory.

, as the suicide punch meister of your masturbatory fantasies,

, as the neurotic loyal devoteé who deems herself “Mrs. POX.” [ And rightly so! ]

Do not, however, mistake her — or rather : her character, totes and obvs — for a groupie. If the subtitled still frame hovering above this cluster of text doesn’t clarify the distinction, then honey : I don’t know what to tell you . . . [ A simple suggestion, perhaps? Two words : Life Alert. Pleazh is all mine, Bee Tee Doubs ]

Incidentally, well aware I’m giving Generous in the screen cap department, though rest assured that it’s been anything but mad cazh or madly random. Au contraire, the act is one of scrupulous selection — of painstaking deliberation — by which I attempt to illustrate the gravitas of the sitch, bitch. Said another way? This film tackles some serious territory. That’s “serious” with implied italics. You feelin’ me?

And the atmosphere? Oh, how it delivers. Yes!

CLICK HERE ▸▸▸ FOR MUCH, ▸▸▸ MUCH MORE ▸▸▸

At any rate, so like. Yeah . . . It just so happens immortalized in this Cinematic Great myself, with an appearance as the character Jared Silver. And while I’ve mentioned this cameo as being a parody of my comrade Jared Gold in the past, truth of the matter is : the allusion is both inaccurate and unfair. Other than the play on Mr. Gold’s surname, any satire I serve is that of my persona.

Speaking of persona, spot-check “to the left” who’s part of my posse my character’s retinue, as we serve a bit of air kisses and ass-kissing to the papparazzi. Why, it’s only the winner of America’s Next Top Model Cycle 17 : ALL ★ STARS, the reigning Queen Supreme of All-The-Scandal-She-Can-Handle : . I mean : nada biggie or anything . . . unless you’re the type of person who intuits when someone / thing is Kind Of A Big Deal.

Tsk, tsk . . . Such a commanding cunt, my character. Just look upon the pretenshy ‘tude being given here — and to world famous sculptor and photographer David Meanix, no less! NERVE, honey. NERVE.

She’s a nervy lass herself, that D’Amato Deluxe — though make no mistake : one of her own brand . . . if not planet. Here The All-Star is again, this time immortalized via still frame with my dear friend .

Though why don’t we duck out of the crimson-hued amniotic murk a hot little second and allow this portrait by celebrity photographer Piper Ferguson to provide a bit of transpiration sensation we’ve got on the happs. As for macro? Well, I consider it imperative to emphasize how apropos the term “celebrity photographer” is in relation to The Mighty Ms. Ferguson. Not only is she an established music, fashion, lifestyle, entertainment, marketing and advertisement-based photographer; she also has directed several critically-acclaimed music videos.

Short of the long? She rules. [ See : ref ; see ref ]

As for the micro, on the other ominously-manicured claw? Namely, my intent is to draw attention to the live Madagascar Hissing Cockroach Brooch Nic is wearing. [ His name was Henry — and incidentally, yes : I miss his inimitable charm and designer resplendence. Very much. ]

Alright, then. Whether as spokesmodel, event host, or all-around superstar, if there’s anyone who’s no stranger to this URL, it’s the remarkable Lenora Claire. The subtitles suit Miss Thing pretty well, hrmm?

Oh! And the end credits. As far as I’m concerned? Myriad, the choice of adjectives and adverbs to denote emphasis, one of which is : truly an integral component of film. It’s like . . . Closure. Such a recurring motif in our lives ; why not do it well? Fortunately, The Hammer does. [ And how! And HOW. ]

Yep. Me again. Is that a problem? Whelp, I suppose you can either “Take A Number,” or commence dialing Whine-One-One for a waaahmbulance, if that’s the case. S’anywaaaay, spoilers / teasers / What-The-F, I might as well tell you : I serve some Off-The-Cuff while the credits roll . . . some of which veers into LOL territory ; some of which isn’t as clever as I wish it were. — that’s “I,” as in : me ; as in : via my standard persona, rather than that of an ‘alter’ [ Case/point, the Jared Silvér scandalabra ].

And O.K., sure : the spelling of his name is a bit off, but it’s still the one and only Jeffree Star. Not that I need to tell you or anything . . . I’m just bein’ all “Hey, fangirls! Heyyyyy.”

Next in the queue? Despite the fact she’s shot me down in the past, I can’t help but adore the actress, comedian and burlesque performer who’s a “small package with a very big presence” : The host of Lunatic Fringe, Miss Selene Luna! [ Wow. I kind of, uh, wrote that in a Booming! Radio! Voice! Didn't I? Never mind that the only person listening to my internal dialogue is Yours Truly; instead, we're movin' right along . . . right along here, instead. . . ]

And you know, not to pat myself on the back or anything — if you’ll excuse the platitude along with the prerequisite “I’m-So-Modest” pleasantries, perhaps better called out as B.S. — but it’s a cool thing when one’s predictions come true. No, I’m not trying to be all Nostradamus and shit ; instead, I’m just giving another shout to my girl Lisa D. I’ve quoted myself before, and might as well give homage again . . . In an article that ran in Swindle magazine shortly after D’Amato‘s appearance on America’s Next Top Model : Cycle 5, I stated “In [our] current climate where politically-correct pleasantries have replaced the witty banter we once knew as engaging conversation, D’Amato’s moment as a rule-breaker and a risk-taker could not be more opportune.”

Actually, I sing Lil’ Chicklet all kinds of praises in that piece, but point of the matter : I still do. Sing her praises, like, “Way Crazies,” that is. Though now I’ll do us all a solid, and clap my trap from further outbursts. About Miss Thingus Herselfness, or hell : about anything.

Correct, that is . . . of immediate import, I intend to take my own cue and bring this beast on an entry to an end. Besides, if you’re able to read, then you’re already privy whom the gent in the screen cap hovering above this text is . Mssr. Gold has his own humorous, memorable moment in the line-up, which blahgity blah nope : I won’t be sharing. So exhausted by this point; I’m delirious . . . i.e., you’ll have to purchase or stream for more details.

Blah blah same story with blah, who’s brilliant. [ No, but seriously! ]

And uh-huh, yep : there he is again. Whereas I, on the other manicured claw? So, so out of here.

Now, I realize I’ve provided an F-Load of information. I mean : I know I personally have worn myself out . . .

[ has a few thoughts on the matter ]

So. To re-cap?

POX. Stream it. Buy it. Be it.

As for anything else in your life? That is all.

Alive, Within The Spaces Amid Love

Nice to kick off the new year with a reminder that Cottonmouth Kisses hasn’t . . . well, you know : kicked it. In this case, thanks to the blog The Spaces Amid Love for posting an excerpt from the poem “Danielle, I’ve Been Meaning To Tell You.”

And since it’s been a while since this little bugger‘s inception, here are a few Cottonmouth Kisses reviews . . . “For Your Convenience.” : Via Marcus Pan of Legends Magazine † Kevin Killian of Small Press Traffic † Ara Taylor for The Bellingham Herald † Cara Bruce of The San Francisco Bay Guardian † Richard Davis for The Lambda Literary Review [ previously Lambda Book Report ] † Cathi Unsworth of Bizarre Magazine

Thanks, all!

Tonight!

Alright, folks . . . Just like the flyer says : This evening marks the official signing / release party for Incurable Disorder : The Art of Elizabeth McGrath [Last Gasp]. It’s a gorgeous book; good times are guaranteed to be had; I’m running really late, so you can either take my advice or sniffle in regret later. Not unlike me in the present tense, with the five loads of laundry I didn’t drop off. But hey! I’ve been waiting to use “soft grunge” as an excuse.

The Folly of St. Hubertus : 2012

Elizabeth McGrath’s Incurable Disorder

I’m pleased to announce the release of Incurable Disorder : The Art of Elizabeth McGrath [Last Gasp], the second full-length monograph of this visionary artist’s works, including dioramas, mixed media paintings and three-dimensional sculptures produced from 2005 to 2012.

In addition to over 200 color images, the book includes introductory essays by filmmaker/producer Morgan Spurlock, McGrath’s art dealer Alix Sloan, and the artist herself.

Regarding the creative process of the “damaged anthropomorphized animals who would rather bite than be healed,” McGrath explains “The conception of these brainchildren is hard to pinpoint. They stem from the emotional encounters I have with humans, landscapes and objects, and are further shaped by the constant stream of words and images that survive my mind’s filter. Once I have the skeleton of an idea, the rest comes automatically, but staying on task through the many hours it takes to complete one of these works requires a heavy dose of news radio, stories, and audio books. For instance, the chapter titled ‘Altarwise by Owl Light’ started with a Dylan Thomas poem but grew during The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley…”

She continues, “When I see the finished pieces it takes me back to the story or vice-versa, like memories from a vacation.”

As aforementioned, the tome is divided into sections — each paired with a passage from a poem or literary work that functions as a companion piece. The chapters are as follows :

Tears of The Crocodile

[ excerpt from the poem "What All The World Is Made Of" by Robert Southey ]

Altarwise by Owl-Light
[ with an excerpt from the Dylan Thomas poem of the same name ]

Incurable Disorder

[ accompanied by my poem Dead Letters : Twenty-Six Are in its entirety ]

American Animals
[ excerpt from Gods In Alabama by Joshilyn Jackson ]

Shadowless Summer
[ excerpt from Thomas Pynchon's novella The Crying of Lot 49 ]

With Tomorrow’s Scream

[ accompanied by a quote from Redmond King ]

Elizabeth — a.k.a. Liz, a.k.a. “Bloodbath” — McGrath is the only artist whose creations I collect, and without doubt, one of my favorite people on the planet. We met through a mutual friend in 2002, when I was asked to M.C. the Broken Dolls fashion show in January of the following year.

I’ve written about her numerous times between then and now : regarding the release of her first retrospective  Everything That Creeps in January of 2006, the premiere of Cecil B Feeder‘s documentary Bloodbath : The Movie, the main subject of which is — yep, you guessed it — in 2011.

I even modeled for CREEP Clothing, Miss McGrath’s collaboration with B.F.F. Winter Rosebudd : a feat which included strutting around Echo Park with an evil-horned creature [the duo's slaughtered chupacabra stole] draped about my shoulders, the pièce de résistance complete with velvet cloven hooves and a poisoned arrow. And did I love it? Every fantastic click and tick of the clock.

In short, Liz is generous, genuine, a true talent, and a stead-fast friend. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and truly : I’m honored to be part of this chronicle of her creative outpourings.

Oh. And uh, in the event you might have been “skimming”? It’s as simple as this : Incurable Disorder = new book you need in your life. Me? New poem in book. Matter of fact, I’ll save you a click and leave a copy right here, even . . .

Cheers!

Dead Letters ; Twenty-Six Are

A new poem, published in Incurable Disorder : The Art of Elizabeth McGrath [Last Gasp] . . .

Composed in a strict poetic form I created, the details of which can be found HERE. ⟣ Thanks!