Downtown Los Angeles, 7th and San Pedro



Audz and me, just hangin' with all the
Baseheads sippin' with cracked lips from
Brown papered-bottles of Night Train, and
Eric Kroll and his crew...

Since 'The Boys' and he hauled Irene's chair downstairs, I guess my look turned
Bloodthirsty barber taking "walk-in"-- or rather, walk *up?*--clients on the sidewalk...

As I stated in another post, howevs:

Nada biggie.

Just another day in The Chronicles of Clint, matter of fact.

(Cue latex-clad emoticon here)

Plus, I was stoked to be photographed by the fetishmeister
after all these years, truth be told...

I've seen him listed as 'the most famous fetish photographer alive,'
and I can't say I'd argue.  I mean, images from Fetish Girls were even
made into postcards I remember seeing in airports, fer feck's sake.

That book--along with other published works of his--has been on
many a coffee table I've encountered over the years.

Whatever the case with this eve, it was an "encounter," that's for sure!

(I think he meant "wooes," but it's funnier this way--
as in, I'm givin' her Woe Is Me...)

* * * * *

The threads: custom costuming by Jared Gold
hair: (both Audz and me) by Irene Urias at Hairroin

(www.hairroinsalon.com)

C.C.'s
CAMEO
WITH "THE QUEEN OF CLEAVE":





LENORA CLAIRE
WITH SUPERNOVA OF THE SMALL SCREEN,
ANTOINE DES CAUNES

ON "ALLEZ A L.A.,"
A PROGRAM VENTURING
'ROUND THIS CITY OF SMOG & STARDUST
BY
CANAL PLUS 

T.V...

(DESCRIPTION POSTED ON MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL):

"European megawatt Antoine De Caunes explored this strange beast
we know under the name of 'Los Angeles,' and stumbled upon "Future Cult
Icon" Lenora Claire in the process.

Because any fashion choice I
make should be considered The Law--yes, this is sarcasm, kiddies--I was
brought in to transform Antoine into the hip party-goer he's always
wanted to be...whether or not he knew it. After all, Lenora's birthday
soirée was just an "intimate little gathering" of her thousand most
fabulous friends at none other than the Houdini Mansion. 

In other words, jeans and a t-shirt?  Just WOULDN'T have cut it.

The hand-painted suit on Mr. De Coines is a one-of-a-kind creation by
TonyMech of TonyMech[dot]com, while the black-belt beauty crew
responsible for his phenomenal transformation via hair and make-up is
none other than Stacey Hummell, Face-Beater Extraordinaire, as well as
Irene Urias and Marc Mapile of Hairroin -- the virtual locale of which
is HairroinSalon[dot]com.

And on me?

Need I even mention
the shrunken top hat was made by Creepsuela Switchletto and my own
*subtle* ensemble another couture creation by Mssr. Jared Gold?

Or uh, you guys kind of...CATCHING ON by this point?

(Envision Appropriate Emoticon)

x o x o x
C l i n t"

Beloved Kime, Whom I’ve Just Discovered Lives At

This Address:

Though your emotions may feel as if they've been scattered,
Smothered and covered in the Waffle House of Existence, the
Artwork you create is indeed a language understood by others:

Think of it as speaking in hieroglyphics.

Words that never have to be "learned"-- yet are universal,
Exist outside the constraints of time, and become exponentionally
More subjective as they're strung together.

A strand of jewels that has no concern for what I refer to as 'Millenial Newspeak'--

Eyes devour the resplendent, the visually stunning
Even when minds shift off and a virtual screen-saver glazes over

Any "tl;dr"

"IDK"

Doubleplusungood

Orwellian B.S.

//

Said another way?

The heart has no need for
Urbandictionary.com

Even on an "off" day, you
Affect it, its
Chamber by
Chamber

Through
The body of work you've created
Already—it

Skitters with an emotional velocity too deft for
Man's lazy Abbreviations.  No need
To dial Orwell on
The White Courtesy Phone

There are no acronyms in the
Human condition; whether
We 'choose to be all right'
Or not

It just is
What it is

It just is.

Yes, I wore the soles off my 20-e Doc's many an eve
dancing to the 12" mix of Ministry's "Everyday is Halloween"
in back-alley nightclubs where I was years away from years from
being 'of age' to attend in the first place

(translation: the main thing that made it fun--
or at least that's how it seems, looking back)

back in ancient history, also known as
my bereaved degenerate youth 

 I've been revisiting some of the more
 dynamic moments from what could aptly be filed away in memory
as 'The Clintagious Chronicles' due to
the current book project on which I've been working

Degeneracy: A Love Letter.

// R.I.P., oh Long Lost Love...despite the toxic goulash of highlights,
lowlifes and embarrassingly awkward good times, how
exhilarating it seems your freedom was // 

Whatever the case, here's a recent update "from the set,"
featuring the inimitable beauty of actress/model Mageina Tovah
in the first of her two looks for the day: 




Copious detail/commentary is provided on the clip's YouTube page,
including info on the other peeps present who
deserve some serious 'propers' of their own.
(Irene Urias from Hairroin Salon, Genevive Lamb from Dior, and
of course my co-conspirator, Amanda Brooks:
childhood f(r)iend/former 'partner in crime'-turned-responsible mom)

Maendi and I lived by the edict that everyday presented
a new opportunity: the chance to become whomever/whatever we want
by dressing up.

To this day, I'm a tremendous advocate of the belief--
I mean, it was a mere three weeks ago, yet
I'm already missing Halloween.

With an outfit as genius as what Jared Gold concocted me,
how could I not?

 

and for the more detail-obsessed
FASHION DIE-HARDS OUT THERE,
here's a considerably more comprehensive 5 minute clip in which
The Master of Delicate Decadence
shares everything from the costume's "reveal"
to secret compartments ensconced within: 

 

As for All Hallow's Eve 'proper,'

I gotta tell ya: generally speaking,
I was stoked to see so many
Alice in Wonderland
characters runnin' around...
There were a slew of them both at the 'Bitches Brew' party

as well as a hearty smattering of Mad Hatters afterwards
when we hit the Brite Spot
for some "fine" (enough) dining.

Seriously now: being a "Glad Hatter" myself--how could I not adore them?

Despite accusations that I'm a 'camera whore,' (harumph!)
there aren't many pictures of me from the evening.
I managed to snap one of that dang adorable little Janine Jarman and
face-beater extraordinaire Noelle
within the first few minutes of our arrival,


the cheers began
as guests arrived...

 

Q: Ever "spanked the monkey"?

(Effing genius coincidence captured, that...)

As for me, I danced to the phenomenal tuneage spun by D.J.s Marta & Jen,
workin' my 'Demented Barber, Circa '99...1899, That Is' accessories
for all they--and the accompanying attitude in which I came "dressed"--
were worth




(looks like SOMEONE needs a hug, hrmm?
Just call me 'Mr. Congeniality!')

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Hence the "Not My Best Look" oilslick on my gesicht


(Hand on a Merrie breast, though Mr. Gold seems unimpressed...)


Rockin' TWO TYPES OF CLEAVE...
Thanks for the mammaries, Miss Sarah Merrie!  [Ampersand.Hearts.Semicolon]

Another shot from the evening:


Kaiden as "Epic Fail: Scene 'LOL'," Stevie Ryan as a pretty version of Pee Wee Herman,
and Adam Paranoia throwin' Teen Wolf in a most serious way... 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

And speaking of serious,
I was seriously surprised to learn that when my pal Brandon came to town for a visit
he comped me a frickin'--well, really expensive Madonna ticket.
9th row front, 3rd center of the 'T-shaped' stage
for one night
vs.
more than an entire month's rent?

Can't say I would've made that one happen myself...


* Thanks again, B! *  (I love how undeniably excited he is...)

and of course, via his iPhone
we've got


"Pics or It Didn't Happen"

O.K... so Home Skillet put on a phenomenal show.
I won't make any references about how "I would hope so"; moreover,
I'll refrain from utilizing any clichéd monikers in my commentary.
(Seriously journalists: by this point, any hack who refers to Mz. M as "The Material Girl"
should be force-fed the Oxford English Dictionary 
One. Page. At a time.)

but let me just tell you: when she threw down some
DOUBLE DUTCH... 



Well, let's just say... despite another '80s ricochet
(nod to Keith Haring notwithstanding)
I was seventeen shades of impressed.

It's no secret I've been trying to assemble my own double-dutch squad
capable of weaving our way through the ropes while
dressed in elaborate couture
for quite some time...

So until 'The Swingers' come to fruition,
I'll cease this gargantuan post with the note

What I'm really dying to know is:
Has anyone else heard the rumor that Alexander McQueen
will be designing a limited-run for Target?

They've scored some outstanding talent in the past
but McQueen?

Truly: it's a shame Isabella Blow isn't here with us
to share her thoughts on the topic

(not to mention her opinions in general--but that's a given)

And on a final rash note about fash:

Did anybody rack up any great scores among the merch available via H & M
through their collaboration via Comme Des Garcons?

I wasn't able to devote the entire morning of the 13th to waiting in line
in an attempt to score at least one piece of the instant collectibles.
(Different story altogether with the Viktor & Rolf launch from...hrmm...
Two years ago, wasn't it?)

However, thanks to my dear pal Pedro,
I didn't completely miss out on the goods
that were gone in...what?  Something like 17 minutes?

And though you might have thought it'd never happen,
this is me,
waaaay all kinds of outta here!

Alright, so...for an overview of boxEIGHT's "This Ain't Mercedes Benz Fashion Week" 
this last/past Fashion Week (Spring 2009)
in L.A.,
Check it—

(Madness Courtesy of Altitude TV)

Clickity click for coverage of me "giving word" at boxEIGHT studios
with appearances from:
Peter Gurnz, Dirk Mai (formerly known as "Fingers Crossed"), Audrey Kitching,
Lina Lecaro, Sammy from The Kids, "G," and Vanessa Gonzales——
along with the work of Yotam Solomon, Brian Lichtenberg
and other high-octane fabulousness.

Truth be told, anticipation of Mr. Lichtenberg's show
is what got me "in outfit" and out of the house,
so I find it only apropos
to highlight his latest work
before transitioning into the next topic...

O.K., now that we've had a bit of
'the spandex strut' that has garnered Mr. Lichtenberg notoriety
(with good reason—-this show did not disappoint,
and those effing hats and headpieces still SLAUGHTER me...)
*~ Slaughtering, I say! ~*~ S-L-A-U-T-E-R-I-N-G ~*

Still, there's a shifting of gears // a bit of backstory:

The Altitude video was shot on Friday, October the 17th--
when I was (admittedly) full of more "piss and vinegar"*
than I was by Sunday eve.

*Thanks for the vernacular, granny.  MEAN IT!

I mean, c'mon: when do I deny the fact that I'm a dinosaur
among the (AHEM!) "scene"?

Consequently, my pal Gabriele and I
nearly "pulled a Frankenstein" and bolted after the Rojas show:
false eyelashes were wilting, and enthusiasm was becoming an act
as difficult to keep up
as the Chet B headpiece I'd tacked onto my noggin...

Fashion Troopers: Gabriele and Clint Await the Final boxEIGHT Show (Spring 2009)

Then—a moment passed, only to be eaten by the next:
a narcotic rush painted with such poetic visual precision,
we were consumed by it.

Kucoon Fashion Show/Performance -- Spring 2009 Collection
(Part One : the First Half)

Please forgive: this video clip kicks in once I'd rummaged through
my recycled rubber "murse" and acquired my little cam
in medias res,

as I wasn't, well...anticipating the need to record anything.

Hence, I do admit the reactions one might overhear 'off screen'
aren't exactly eloquent.
However, that's one of the reasons why I opt to express myself
via pen, paper or notebook
(be it college-lined or of the G4 ilk).

What often is a more animated, base manner
exploding like confetti from inside of me
Is but a temporal human response: those mannerisms/
histrionic outbursts and the like...

(Oh, C'MON already! In layman's terms?
Reminders that I'm a FLAWED HUMAN BEING
who entertains himself by being "ornery!"

Consider that my frickin' First Step or something.
All right?)

 

(…and Here’s Part Two of the Visual Treats)

For instance: theoretically,
If I were to "bum rush" the designers
backstage
for an impromptu interview...

my antics and semantics with
Sheila B and Andrea Spratt, the duo responsible for
the cornea-melting jewelry/design
under the moniker Kucoon—

well,

I'd be calm, mild-mannered and
an inveterate pro with technical equipment.

(Or at least that's how I'd intend it to seem
via a little 'revisionist re-write.')

Hyperbole, active verbs and sparkling consonants...
Why not chronicle life as colorfully as one sees
or makes it out to be?

And on that tip,
the rhetorical questions continue with a nudge
and a "Why don't you go ahead and hit up the personal site
of my latest favorite find among the 'newbies'
here in Smog City?"

www.kucoondesigns.com

There's nada there for the xy set in terms of PERSONAL "consumer consumption,"
(Love that Lily Allen!)
 but that by no means is an indication any gent with impeccable taste
will be at a loss in terms of visual stimulation.
Ya with me?
As in, "Hrmm, that'd look really great on ______________."

Everything moves with such heightened velocity this time of the year,
a person might as well start shopping now:
It seems like as soon as we scrub off the Halloween make-up and blink
it's already SANTA TIME
yet again...

Insofar as the 'stand out' piece among the site? 

The Amethyst Stalactite earrings are such stunners;
in an alternate life—one in which I have scads of dinero
and zilch insofar as student loans—

I'd buy a pair and turn one into a necklace,
the other into a brooch.

Fashion is all about fantasy, anyway—
here's but one of the ways mine come to fruition.

Bring on the images
and I'll find the words...

O.K., before I have to dial whine-one-one for the waaaahmbulance, please allow me to throw down a disclaimer in hopes that I’ll spare even a single set of phalanges out there clacking terse comments about how I “really need to post this type of information while issues are still on the newsstands…” [ad nauseum, ad nauseum; cue vomitorium]

‘Cause hey—guess what?

I really need to post this shit in a more expeditious manner, man.

Just so happens that–ahem–I might very well have a few issues of my own to deal with. (One of which is the preposition by which the previous sentence just ended, dangling like an unworn pair of silver Les Chiffoniers’ leggings aching for the latest Girl of the Moment to slide into them before dashing out to paint the town bloodshot. It’s as inherent a pairing as Edie Segwick hopped-up on a fistful of whites and having her coiff spray painted Just For The F Of It while donning Balenciaga originials. What other lack of logic explains the perfect sense it makes to purchase what’s essentially a thick pair of pantyhose with a thousand dollar price tag? Not really…but REALLY, babes.)

But oh, that’s but a footnote of damage from a former version of myself in which I worked as a technical writer. A footnote among essays within archives buried deep inside some virtual boneyard we’ll call The Chronicles of the Clintasaurus and opt to visit some other time just dust our hands of it.

.kthanxbai.

At least all this self-aggrandizing material is contained within a single post. Couldn’t give two turds about what ‘they’ might have said about me?

Scroll on; scroll on!

“Does Not Exist.”

What does exist, nonetheless, on the other acrylic claw:

Recent media in which I appear–sometimes but a smidgen; luckier instances full effing-on.

For instance, the following pic and mention in H Magazine is a case of what might be deemed “peripheral press.” Or, to utilize the vernacular of savvy SoCal realtors in sensible shoes: an “adjacent feature.”

And insofar as my image—the look I ‘turned out’* for bits and pieces of my soul to be sacrificed via Glenn’s manipulation of the bulky/beautiful Polaroid Big Shot favored by Warhol himself?

*’turned out’ by no means appropriating cred as if this was my own creation! Au contraire, it was the make-up of Stacey Humell; the cut/color/extensions of scissormeister Irene Urias of Hairroin, Hollywood’s hottest salon (www.hairroinsalon.com), and–excluding the Westwood brooch–another cerebellum-melding, history-making, custom couture creation by the genius Jared Gold

(moving right along…)

Big deal if I’m “giving away too many of my secrets” by sharing this delicious little inside joke—it friggin’ slaughters me how many people took the ‘pomp and pout’ of the picture at face value. I mean, if I’m going to rock an outfit, hair and make-up that ostentatious… how could I not get “in character”?

What ELSE would I do? Smile like a politician and “compassionately” hold a stranger’s baby?

And in the meantime, reword “Let Them Eat Cake” into something more…inclusive…in tone?

yeahRIIIGHT.

It’s like this: one wink or nudge of the elbow during the Polaroid shoot, or Nhat Nguyen’s studio takes thereafter in which I “amped the prance” so high; by foppish standards it was even off-the-charts, or even a single word cluing in ‘The Children’ a la Interwebz? (No worries now: it’s been months… and while it’s a hasty generalization, yes: gnats have better attention spans than they do, for the most part.)

Let’s face the music, sweetcheeks:

Simply wouldn’ta worked.

Art versus Artifice // Appearance versus Reality // Truth Revealed Through a Guise // Everything Is “Real”—Though What Of It Is Lies?

So many motifs swirling around in my head like a majorette’s glitter-fringed baton at half-time…

Yet all of them beg the question, it seems:

Exactly who or what is this ‘Clint Catalyst’ supposed to be, anyway?

And why would it even matter if he (and I) weren’t among the ‘Lucky Ones’ in Flaunt magazine, issue 96?

I’ll tell ya what it was like when I spot-checked the (who cares if it’s a mere thumb-nail sized) pic, standing there, thumbing through the pricey pages in the Echo Park 7-11:

the second I saw my little powder blue top hat (by L.A.’s premier Gothic Cholita, Creepsuela Switchletto: “big ups” to my shiv-wieldin’ glamour sis), I felt a surge of validation sweep over me like the frost-bitten clouds fleeing a freezer behind me as some nameless faceless customer opened then sealed shut the door.

No doubt this earth-shattering, molar-splitting, life-changing moment is fraught with layers of meaning… but c’mon, isn’t everything? (Unless, of course, it’s deconstructed to the bloodless core of nothingness—but that’s so Small-Town-Liberal-Arts-School-Curriculum-For-30K+-A-Year-Of-Make-Believe, I’d rather just ‘keep it real’ and say

Mostest Massive thanks to Photographer Melissa Manning and Flaunt magazine!

Shit you nunca, y’all: that was wickedcool of you, and was “Really Saying Something…”

[Fun.Boy.Three.From.This.One.Here.]

Verbose? Hell yes. I conquer “tl;dr” pussywillows one paragraph at a time—deal with it, or head off for culturally-stimulating activities like an episode of “Cops” or a Budweiser-fueled swirly-go-’round-and-then-down on the Sunset Strip’s Mechanical Bull.

“I.D.G.I,” arseholians. (Said, of course, with the deepest affection…)

Besides: this is kind of like, my diary…yo?

All the same, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell you, though: the printwork I’m most stoked about as of late is a two-page editorial in the latest Lipstick Prophets catalog/magazine.

Here’s one of the images from the spread…

Copies are available through LipstickProphets.com for a scant 2 1/2 bones — and that’s with free shipping and handling, dearlings.

With the American economy in the shitter as it is, at least somebody’s followed my lead regarding “Other Humanitarian Acts That Require Little or No Effort.”

The Clint’s Notes version?

Have passport; will travel. ‘Handling’ is subjective terminology best discussed in lush, exotic locales—and, as with everything else in life, varies from individual to individual (all the while assured that we’re treated equally: It is, after all, the American Way!).

Air Kisses and Ass Kissing,

CC “Giving You” L.A.

in the best of

worst of

ways

(and vice-versa)

And motherfucking still working on it:

O.K.?

…andthankyou.

x o x

Rather than start another blog only to scrap it out of frustration–I’m working on getting my new manuscript together, among other things–I thought it only apropos to share what life has been like for some of my ‘other’ personalities…

\”Clawz\” by Suren from Strange Angel Films

So here I am, testing out this new blog. The Webmistress has introduced me to Wordpress, so of course I wanna see what it’s all about.

However, Full Disclaimer:

(visual art by Glenn Arthur)

*Thing is: I have to “own it”—sure, it’s lachrymose. It’s of the Things Are Very Serious school, the stacks-of-bipolar-poems strewn about. But here’s the deal: it’s not like me to hide what I fear might be mocked. I mean, I view it differently after 7 hours of zzzzs—though that doesn’t change the moment, the cheeks-burning-crimson over what developed, the cadence that’s captured in this emotional Polaroid.

Said another way? I meant it. Not really, but really meant it at the time.