Wednesday, September 17, 2014

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"Understanding; Killing myself before I'm born." ~ Ben John Smith

He has not been here before and neither had himself. Not ever had he seen this room before.
He stands directly beside himself and strains his eyes in the soft neon glow of the museums light. Behind a sheet of glass, smudge with little children's finger prints, in a white wooden box secured to the white wall in front of him is a collection of insects pinned to a cork board. small little labels with (difficult to say) scientific. names like;

Phasmatoptera, Exopterygota and Neoptera.

Himself doesn't need to point but he knows he is looking directly at the Phasmatoptera, better known as a Stick Insect. You know these things about yourself. Without speaking or pointing, himself says the name, pronouncing it perfectly, even accented in a slight Latin enunciation. Without opening his mouth or lifting his tongue he says

"The stick insect was destined to imitate the twig of a branch before it had ever even seen one, before it knew what stick was., before it even knew what the concept of being a stick was... Molding its body as an embryo to mimic wood, the entire symbiotic and evolutionary process destined to become the exact organic replica of a single strand of wood. A survival mechanism. An instinct before his brain had the ability to consciously act instinctively."

"Becoming a stick Before it even knew the concept of a stick..."

He repeated.

Himself turned to face him, still not speaking, narrowing his eyes on his teeth; just a couple of snapped rotten brown and gold semi ivory stumps in his small broken and round lipped mouth.

'and millions still believe in the concept of a participating god. All these dead insects a very clear proof there is no creator but our self's, yet here we are. Standing next to each other, the same person - just separated by our years in the tubes. A new version of me - you, and an older, forgive me for saying, disheveled version of myself."

His self said quietly, inaudibly, like electricity. A current in His brain.  Himself (Nico of the future) was Dressed in a woolen knit jumper over a red shirt, the material at his neck pressed sharply, nearly popping from his collar and spread open on his breast, his perfect teeth white and bright reflecting the sterile room with a quarter crescent moon on the bulge of each molar, incisor and cuspid.

In that small moment of mutual adorned silence, a small pistol, the single shot of a Steyr Mannlicher M1901 slipped from him self's (Past Nicolas) pocket and in a single arched motion pressed gently against Nico's head and in a boiling hot pop, a sliver of metal pushed the entire contents of Nicos head; The face bones, eye ball liquid and brain matter across the fresh white walls of the museum. A two second red and white splash and 2 more seconds of silence before he opened his freshly formed eyes by the side of a turquoise and light blue pool in Istanbul. He was in Istanbul for sure. He had been here before. The old yellow stone stacked walls are convexed around him.

He looked at the watch on his wrist that wouldn't be invented for at least 200 years and watched the zodiac hand click from a odd to even number and subconsciously sighed. Wouldn't be long this time, a few minutes, half of a clock watch if he was lucky. Knowing the environment meant that this moment in time had already happened. It wouldn't take Nicolas long to find him. At his feet, gingerly but sure footed, traipsing across the mosaic tiles of the sauna room a Persian cat rubbed its ear across the peak of his fresh white, red trimmed 2014 Reebok Cross fit sneakers. He looked again at his watch, in a few moments Nicolas would be walking through the arch to the right of the Blue Mosque in his shabby brown coat with his hands in his pockets.

The kitten mewing at his feet was irritating him, terribly. It was someone's cat - it had a piece of string with an Arabic symbol carved into a small piece of steel tied to its neck. Nico picked up the cat gentle and wrapped his beautiful soft white hands around the cats neck and tightly squeezed the throat for a few thrashing moments until the cat hung limp in his hands, like a wet sock alone on a clothes line he remembered once, many years to pass yet, thinking now, in the past about a future that hasnt yet happened; when he was a small child.

As the zodiac clicked over to the exact time that Nico had anticipated, in walked himself. Dressed exactly as he knew he would have. Putting the kitten gently onto the floor, taking a long drag of and stubbing out a cigarette in an ash tray beside him, he did not remember lighting, he stood up, brushed white cat hair from his shoulders and stood, slightly turning so his back heel was just hanging over the lip of the swimming pool.

"It would be a lie to say this is an unexpected surprise, wouldn't it friend."

He said, staring straight forward, hands behind his head.

"Don't shoot, I'm un armed and i come in peace."

He said laughing loudly and raising his hands palm open to the sky.

"I love Istanbul in the morning, I wish we could stay longer. Well, you at least, it fazes me not where ever i am and for ever long. You, my Carman Santiago, I know you are a man of France at heart. Don't be silly, you know this wont hurt."

A small boom, like the strike of a match head, or a flint stone rubbed together and there it was again, the split second infinite red hum. Like a car crash sped up 10000x, then nothing, then nothing. not even a thing.

***

Nicolas woke up again somewhere in the future, sometime after 90k. He knows this because he remembers the TV ad for womb on T.S.E.V.N that's broadcasting on the airport terminal television screen. The television brightly spews out the pop out hologram of a white woman in a lab coat and her blonde hair tied in a bun above her head. Smiling. Smiling, really, really big. As she opens her arms in a welcome hug, a collection of other white, blonde clinically dressed woman huddle behind her. Same stupid arms out, same stupid smile.

He would have to find Nicos sometime soon but he knew where he was and was happy to rest in his chair shortly, watching the television screen as the modern age hustled around him. He sighed
Perfectly queued the television says;

"Welcome to The Womb (tm)". 

The idea of WOMB, was simple.

Starting in Japan, basically the company offered any one over the age of 50 the opportunity to crawl back into your mothers vagina and be reborn.               

Not even digitally, the whole concept was physical, small clinically white rooms, thousands of them, in an conglomerate set of ware houses that would eventually take up 1/5th of the entire country.
On the television the smallish slit of the pink womb, more like a ribbed salvial cocoon was yawning and slowly vomiting the fully grown larval human embryo, soaked in shimmery translucent goo, his adult eyes full with the bewildering wonderment of a freshly developed child. The new born already born licking the slimy gel from his hands and rubbing a hooked hand over his face like a grooming cat. thin sinewy ropes of rubber like mouth spit bridging from any convex angle the twisted fragile unit of humanity squirmed into. The throbbing mound of polyester meat pulsing out the grown man like the split side of a whale and its blubber. A hand full of WOMB nurses smiling like proud mothers, TSEVN filming for a real "take home and re live" DVD experience. Re live you re birth. Re live the reliving of your re birth. Live anything but your life.

We come out and after a, million, million years of the same thing, it just is.  All we want to do is reverse the process. Crawl back into the warm, wet, safe crevice of our creator and sleep forever in the unconscious abyss of pre birth. But we can't, well, not yet anyway.

The slight running text at the bottom of the television rolled across with news stories. The time stamp in the corner read 2:4-25. At 91:13 he would see Nico stumble over a couple leaning in to hold hands. This time he would not greet him, he will not even let his presence be known. He will watch him pass, enter the departure lounge to France and use a payphone nearby to call Womb.   The time now was not for death, but for rebirth. Everything else could wait, he had all the time in the world to kill himself another day.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

This is the three-eyed calf being worshipped as a deity in India. The baby cow was born with the additional organ in the middle of his head, much like the Hindu god Shiva. Visitors have flocked the village of Kolathur in Tamil Nadu, southern India, to see the special calf. One of the key identifying features of Shiva is the third eye on his forehead, which can emit flames. When Shiva loses his temper, he opens his third eye to burn things to ashes. 
Photo credit: Ruptly

This is the three-eyed calf being worshipped as a deity in India. The baby cow was born with the additional organ in the middle of his head, much like the Hindu god Shiva. Visitors have flocked the village of Kolathur in Tamil Nadu, southern India, to see the special calf. One of the key identifying features of Shiva is the third eye on his forehead, which can emit flames. When Shiva loses his temper, he opens his third eye to burn things to ashes.
Photo credit: Ruptly
Go away kid I’m trying to be fabulous. [video]

Monday, September 15, 2014

Horror Sleaze and trash interviews Bob Coulter


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HST ~ Your published work in collections are glorious (http://www.juxtapoz.com/tag/bob-coulter) how have they been received? How is The cross over between the ease, availability and temporal sense of the online adult image photography community compare to the permanent, that I must gush is just beautiful, hard cover books sit with you?

BC ~ Thank you! But to be honest I don't really know how I'm received in either form. I take pictures, and then put them out there. After that I rarely hear about them. I suppose I'm received on line and in hard copy about the same. The reality is hard copy books are a thing of the past, most book publishers have gone out of business.


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HST ~ How different was/is the transition from record producer to being behind the lens? Anything you miss/regret from the flip?  

BC ~ Taking pictures of people and producing/recording records is pretty much identical. Whether it's musicians or models, you're trying to get the best performance out them. It's something I'm good at. Basically you need to make the model or performer feel like they rule the world, then go with it. With some people, you have better chemistry, and those are the shoots/recordings that tend to be best. I like to work fast and not think about what's happening much. I feel like, soon as you start thinking stuff through, it goes from being inspired to contrived. It's the same with music or photography or any art. I loved doing music. The reason I stopped, was I was constantly being ripped off by record companies. There's no money in music anymore, so I'm glad I'm out of it. I love it that all these record companies went broke because from people coping/sharing songs. People that own or ran record labels feel they've been ripped off, but that's exactly what they did to musicians for years. Yay, good riddance!!! Photography is in a similar boat these days. Any good pictures on line, get stolen, and reused over and over. I've had people steel every single picture on my site - like over 250,000 pictures, then make their own sites using my pictures. Plus, anyone and everyone has a camera, takes pictures, and puts them on line. The pictures are all crap, but no one cares. Most people don't even know they're crap.

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  HST ~ Sex, drugs and rock n roll baby, is it all is cracked up to be? How much of your life style, personality and actual environment on a day to day basis is reflected in your shots?

 BC ~ I guess that depends on where you're coming from. If you're a banker, then I suppose my life looks pretty out there, but to me it's not. I just take pictures a lot. When I did music, I was in studios non stop. Sex, drugs and rock n roll is more for observers.

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 HST ~I saw on Twitter (https://twitter.com/Bob_Coulter/status/463734485486690304) your keen to shoot porn star Asa Akira. Any news or updates from that series? Being a avid DVDASA pod cast fan this excites me; Also, are You a listener?  

BC ~ How do you find stuff like that??? I don't think I'd even heard of her before I tweeted her that. I'm not in the porn world mix at all. For one thing I live in NYC. Porn people live in LA. I never watch porn - like never. I must have seen someone I know talking to her on twitter, looked up what she looked like, and thought it would be an easy thing to set up a shoot with her. She didn't respond, and I forgot about it (I had to look up just now what she looked like). I'd definitely shoot with her, but that tweet was about as far as I ever reach out to models.

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 HST ~ Of course a man never kisses as tells as I respect privacy , but do you have any interesting stories from a favorite shoot? My personal favorite was the Janine Lindermulder lip stick and mirror set, any back ground tales there or any other shoots?

BC ~ Actually, I have a story from that shoot you just mentioned with Janine. That was my first shoot with her. Her web master liked my pictures and suggested she shoot with me. She phoned me and said that she was going to be in LA the next week and did I want to shoot. I got a room at the same hotel where she was staying, and we shot that evening in some shithole motel I found nearby, then on the street, then I think back at the place we were staying. I thought the pictures were pretty awesome! The next morning she phoned me and asked if she could look through the pictures. She came over to my room. I gave her a copy of all the pictures so she could take them home with her, plus I let her look through them all on my laptop. When she finished about an hour later, she looked at me like her brain was going to explode and started screaming at me, saying I'd made her look like some "has been porn star old age prostitute wretch", and on and on, and how much she hated the pictures and hated me. She refused to sign a model release, told me to fuck off, and stormed out of my room. I flew back to NY, pissed off that I'd paid for my flight, paid for my motel, paid for my car, paid for the location were we shot etc. and with no signed release, I wouldn't even be able to use the pictures. About 10 days went by and Janine phone me asking when we could shoot again. I asked her what drugs she was on. I reminded her how much she hated the pictures, me and everything else. She said, oh, ya, sorry, bout that, but she had shown the pictures to her mom, and her mom had said they were the only pictures she'd ever seen of Janine that she liked. We ended up shooting a lot of times, but I'm pretty sure Janine never liked any of the pictures I ever shot of her.


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HST ~ English, French, Spaniards, Dutch. Where do you find your work most understood/popular and where is your favorite place to visit/shoot?

 BC ~ Germany. I've never shot there though.  

HST ~ Do you believe in God, or something? Anything? Kind of a staple question I like to ask around here?

BC ~ Yes I believe in God - doi. I can't come up with these pictures I shoot on my own.  

HST ~ Your lens infiltrates every part of the scene, physical and materials, how important is the backdrop, the environment? Does the shoot have an actual rock and roll hype or is it strictly business - snap and shot?

BC ~ The background is almost as important as the model to me. If the surroundings aren't happing I don't get good pictures. I can't seem to ever get past that. I've never been able to do a good shoot if the background isn't cool looking. As far as what are my shoots like, my shoots are 100% like how they look. I have music blasting, and alcohol there, and make it super relaxed. The more of a party feel, the better the pictures come out. I don't let anyone hang out at my shoots, it's always just the model and me. It used to be that way with music too. I mean, you don't wanna get shit faced but you want a party vibe.

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HST ~ You also shoot fashion, I want to ask your opinion on the differences between porn and art but I fucking hate that whole concept and the whole debate shots me. Right? Or am I being a wanker?  

BC ~ I don't really shoot fashion. I've been trying to shoot fashion for a number of years now, but the fashion world doesn't want any part of me. Not sure if I just haven't connected with the right people or what. I've been told my pictures are too wild. But I don't believe that, think they are scared of being associated with porn. Pretty much the unanimous comment I get is, "you will Never get work shooting fashion"... As far as the differences between porn and art. Do you think my pictures are, porn or art? I look at them and they look pretty different than what I think of as porn. That's an old question, that a lot of "wankers" have come up with answers for, however this is that actual answer; when there's more red in the picture it's porn and when there more green it's art.  

HST ~ Ever been star stuck?

 BC ~ In high school with musicians like Dylan or the Stones I suppose. But as soon as you start working with people, you loose that. I've certainly never been star struck with a model. Years ago, I worked on a song for one of Keith Richards solo records. Keith wasn't there, but he and his manager told my partner Daddy-O and I that he was having problems with the song and asked if we might try making it work. I was excited about that, until I started listening to the tracks. It was bad. They had mailed us two 2" tapes (48 tracks). I think drums, bass and vocals took up 8 track, and the rest of the 40 tracks was Keith going plink ploink on guitar. It as insane. Every track was full of crap, there were no tracks for us to even do anything, the tapes were completely full. The first day I spent 18 hours going through all the tracks, erasing garbage, and boucing anything that even sounded remotely ok onto a few tracks so we had room to work on the song. The song was lame and we couldn't really do much to help it. A couple of days after we mailed it back to England, I got a phone call from Keith's manager Jane Rose. She said, "Bob, thank you for working on the song, but I need to ask you something. Did you make a backup of the tapes we mailed you"? I said no, I thought you had mailed me a backup to work on. She said, no, we mailed you the master... Apparently Keith was upset cause I'd erased all his guitar bloinking.  

HST ~ Care to leave us weirdo's, creeps and misfits at HST with any words of wisdom? 

BC ~  Stay in school, get a degree, fuck art.
historical-nonfiction:

For the past 17 years, Talkeetna, Alaska has been run by a most unusual mayor — a cat named Stubbs.
Local merchant Lauri Stec discovered him in her parking lot in 1997 and dubbed him Stubbs because he lacked a tail; he was named honorary mayor of the 900-resident town shortly afterward, and Stec’s general store is now his mayoral office. Apparently he’s a bit demanding on the store’s employees, always wanting to climb on counters and be taken outside. 
His constituents have been largely pleased with his 17-year reign. “He doesn’t raise our taxes,” Stec said. “We have no sales tax. He doesn’t interfere with business. He’s honest.”

historical-nonfiction:
For the past 17 years, Talkeetna, Alaska has been run by a most unusual mayor — a cat named Stubbs.

Local merchant Lauri Stec discovered him in her parking lot in 1997 and dubbed him Stubbs because he lacked a tail; he was named honorary mayor of the 900-resident town shortly afterward, and Stec’s general store is now his mayoral office. Apparently he’s a bit demanding on the store’s employees, always wanting to climb on counters and be taken outside. 

His constituents have been largely pleased with his 17-year reign. “He doesn’t raise our taxes,” Stec said. “We have no sales tax. He doesn’t interfere with business. He’s honest.”
Some cultures invoke the spirits by allowing their bodies to be pierced with skewers and hooks. Each year, more than a million Malaysian Hindus take part in this ceremony called, Thaipusam. They take part in public processions, carrying pots or brass jugs of milk on their head, piercing their cheeks, doing prostrations or performing the kavadi dance whilst carrying a yoke – essentially a portable altar – on their shoulders. Some of the dancers have been pierced with hooks on their backs and have a spear pricked through their cheeks. It has a more extreme side which is evident in countries like Malaysia and Singapore where it’s not just cheeks which are pierced. There the entire body is punctured with tiny hooks that hold up the highly-embellished yokes, usually decorated with peacock feathers and weighing up to 66lbs. Devotees claim to experience no pain and it is said that they enter a trance-like state that elevates them from physical discomfort. And despite the gaping holes, they do not bleed from their piercings and have wounds that heal perfectly, leaving no scars.

Some cultures invoke the spirits by allowing their bodies to be pierced with skewers and hooks. Each year, more than a million Malaysian Hindus take part in this ceremony called, Thaipusam. They take part in public processions, carrying pots or brass jugs of milk on their head, piercing their cheeks, doing prostrations or performing the kavadi dance whilst carrying a yoke – essentially a portable altar – on their shoulders. Some of the dancers have been pierced with hooks on their backs and have a spear pricked through their cheeks. It has a more extreme side which is evident in countries like Malaysia and Singapore where it’s not just cheeks which are pierced. There the entire body is punctured with tiny hooks that hold up the highly-embellished yokes, usually decorated with peacock feathers and weighing up to 66lbs. Devotees claim to experience no pain and it is said that they enter a trance-like state that elevates them from physical discomfort. And despite the gaping holes, they do not bleed from their piercings and have wounds that heal perfectly, leaving no scars.
During the Vietnam War, the US dumped roughly 80 million liters of the defoliant Agent Orange across Vietnam. Now, four decades later, the dioxins continue to effect the lives of thousands across the country. In Danang and the surrounding countryside, many families are still being harmed by the storage of the chemicals at the airport and from fishing in nearby contaminated lakes and ponds. In Hanoi, the Vietnam Friendship Village is an Agent Orange orphanage and care center founded in 1998 by George Mizo, an American veteran of the Vietnam-American War. It houses 120 children and 40 veterans in eight homes spread across the small, intimate complex. The village, located just outside of the capital, is a place of both enduring hope and profound sadness. These children and families are all victims of the war, all suffering from the after shocks of the chemical substance.
Photo credit: Aaron Joel Santos

During the Vietnam War, the US dumped roughly 80 million liters of the defoliant Agent Orange across Vietnam. Now, four decades later, the dioxins continue to effect the lives of thousands across the country. In Danang and the surrounding countryside, many families are still being harmed by the storage of the chemicals at the airport and from fishing in nearby contaminated lakes and ponds. In Hanoi, the Vietnam Friendship Village is an Agent Orange orphanage and care center founded in 1998 by George Mizo, an American veteran of the Vietnam-American War. It houses 120 children and 40 veterans in eight homes spread across the small, intimate complex. The village, located just outside of the capital, is a place of both enduring hope and profound sadness. These children and families are all victims of the war, all suffering from the after shocks of the chemical substance.

Photo credit: Aaron Joel Santos

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Ben John Smith & Michael James Christian




Me and my band-man-hetro-partner Michael Christian made a page for our band!

https://www.facebook.com/bjsvmjc

Come join us as we make our new album.
Plus we made this video clip for our first new jam.

As always mad props to our ring leader and queen bae creep Sylv Lee Dardha.
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