26 January 2012

'“They’re Usually Indifferent To Overcome”: An Aesthetic Statement on the Novel. (A Series of Image Scenes Tumbling Apart)' @ Squack Back + 'Lupara Sound System with Shane Jesse Christmass - January 18th, 2012'...

“They’re Usually Indifferent To Overcome”: An Aesthetic Statement on the Novel. (A Series of Image Scenes Tumbling Apart) - by Shane Jesse Christmass. FULL ESSAY HERE.  

 "The applicability, the suitability of writing, that is to say, the special quality in the essence of technology, free of the constraints affecting ‘industry’ jobs, and me carrying capitalist objects, is collected from commercial exhibitions. On Earth, what we achieve is determined, in large part, by what we seemingly step upon. For our work to be published, that opportunity enters, and then can pass without insight. I can neither describe the object using a traditional entry form, even if that entry form has great power, hence the need for variations on the created work. A novel is music, music is a novel, the novel is cinema, etc. New media should have an industrial flavour, never submitting to the author’s personality. We own phrases, transparent, and incandescent forms. I am here on the screen, tap it, you can move me, and if you do tap it I will eventually converge, constantly engage, telepathically like a written story, clarifying the anti-plot in quasi real-time. Jules Verne and Leonardo Da Vinci predicted and drew possibilities of extension, inventions without form or borders, endless mind structures, and just because they were unachievable during their lifetime, it doesn’t mean that similar constructs during ours should be dismissed as unachievable. There is no outside the writer - in any author fictions, and I often respond that only in totality, in writing, can we spy in the outer world. Anyone who drives and dribbles within creativity, should have no assertions of personal value, nor of grabbing an audience, the only thing is to contribute to the space of possible visualizations, however these written contributions must be “scanned” or articulated via publishing. We require digital multimedia as much as we need grubby marks on paper, both are extremely valuable. Language, if stories are to be believed, are often suggested branches of beauty, beauty that will make its way to you through directed thinking, a necessary telepathic tool to be placed upon all personality types..."


19 January 2012

'A Goddamned Riot' @ Squawk Back + 'Lupara Sound System on Radio Valerie - Episode #3 (January 4th 2011)'...

A Goddamned Riot - by Shane Jesse Christmass. FULL STORY HERE.


"Sheinberg getting all her National Socialist/Skinhead-type tattoos removed. Some other guy getting an washing machine symbol taken off via laser. Some other guy asking about getting a Suduko put on his thigh as new work. What a bunch of arseholes! They want to build up or burrow underground, they got some problem with being street level. They continue whispering to the microphones until eyes slip shut at the same moment as mine. My poor eyesight, away from the door, Sheinberg wearing and lie upon the blanket in flat y-fronts, just unpegged from the line. The taxi driver disappears. Sheinberg is locked in here, inside the cupboard, with these faecal things. Pretty girls begin begging. Sheinberg is one of them. She pleads almost, to the ribs ripped off her. “Lies!” the crowd bellows. All garlic and pepper lime, bad breath dipping from their mouths. Suddenly a shivaree, a newlywed couple, neighbours with pots and pans, relentless banging. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery states something that Sheinberg says in code.

The subject asks, "We are you. We captives are afraid and are either dead in high concentrations.” This was before closed dysfunction. They were all terminally ill. A civic disorder. I just smiled at the tattooist..."


15 January 2012

'Lest of an X-Ray' (SJX) @ Horror Sleeze Trash...

Brand new story up @ HORROR SLEEZE TRASH.

EXCERPT:

"Now we both know poop, but we wouldn’t be all judge as to drink it. The ceiling fan, the house cat. The hotel had sent a driver to collect me. I knocked back a Pastis before I boarded. The aeroplane flight, in my direction, as if to say, yet, and if it had, it was keeping their eye on me. This previous sentence is paranoia. The handgun would spoil the occasion with a hollow point. The aeroplane jettisoned, came out of the sky, hard, upon something that seemed like a landing-pier. In my new hotel, I had one hand over my right eye, squinting at some sort of mini-hot water system. I stank like a white man, all Anglo.

“Who are those people?” I asked my driver.

“What, they’re the police. These imbeciles!” he snorted.

I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the police or to whom they were beating up. Old garments that the Police Chiefs daughters liked to wear tumbled in the drains...."

04 January 2012

Lupara Sound System with Shane Jesse Christmass - Episode #2 (December 21st 2011)

Lupara Sound System on Radio Valerie (www.radiovalerie.org)

DIY and freeform internet radio

Lupara Sound presents wolf-shot sounds and musical ephemera.

Fortnightly / Wednesday / 10pm to Midnight.


"A New Archaeology?" @ Verity La.

So Alec Patric asked the question, and then invited several writers to respond.

Thus I did (perhaps swinging between tongue-in-cheek or deadly seriousness):

"When one reduces down the debate to what it’s really about, then one can’t help but become uninterested and realise that none of this is important. Imagine what aliens would think if they came here in their spacecraft and found us all raging about E-Readers. However, taking that into account, a bunch of toffs raging about new technology probably wouldn’t be high on the list of reasons that would make them turn around and take flight. You can see the absurdity of all this eternal guff. It’s the dog-chasing-it’s-own-tail conundrum. It’s a fallacy, this isn’t an issue to anyone except rich people wanting to get richer..."

You can read my full response, plus those of the other authors over at VERITY LA.


28 December 2011

Legacy Diagnosis Rediscovery / Ritual In Transfigured Time.

Visuals by Maya Deren (1946).
Music by Mattress Grave (2011).

Permutated by Shane Jesse Chistmass (2011)

21 December 2011

Lupara Sound System with Shane Jesse Christmass - Episode #1 (December 7th 2011)

Lupara Sound System on Radio Valerie (www.radiovalerie.org)

DIY and freeform internet radio

Lupara Sound presents wolf-shot sounds and musical ephemera.

Fortnightly / Wednesday / 10pm to Midnight.

19 December 2011

Excerpt: 'Myopic Acid' by Shane Jesse Christmass + 'Her Forearms As A Phantom' by Mattress Grave.

'Check The Swamp' - an excerpt from my novel 'Myopic Acid' was published by the Berfrois Journal.

They previously published another of one of my stories, 'Castrato Hidden on the Sewer Ditch Drags'.

It's a great journal based out of Camden, London, go have a look as it's full of great stuff like this & this & this.


"Frances’ face tells the story with her hands, just you know where.

“There’s a lot of water between those planets.” She tells me.

Down the short companion way, slowly across the street, my bringing starts to move from the seat towards where Frances works, but in the meantime, I move from my eyeball into my body, and then look down into the coffee table. Chester jumbles up, makes up, asks is it an implant, put here to be this fellow, to contained those, to paint the kitchen with a sense of charm. I slide open the hospital door. It’s extremely difficult to believe. Frances moves past me, turns and for the reckoning of somewhere, to get her out of the room, her eyes smile. Holding up Lowne over the wall, half on one, kind of not at all. If we believe the idea of an oncoming apocalypse, why then, running out faster than an avalanche, forth by my own god, do they keep bringing me back to the hospital? Turns out that Frances has been saving a stash of Thenailomen. The hospital owner walks out of the bathroom. He spreads himself on the chaise. The afternoon has rolled around. I’m sitting at the seaside, looking out towards the train station. I watch Frances. Lowne sits up, wiping up and cleaning the kitchen area, all bared teeth. I stand a moment with him.

“The acid could be stored in even larger amounts on her.” Lowne tells me.

People are walking up and down (very slowly). Room is dark..."