Tag: epilepsy

Monday With Umami The Artist (This Post Is NOT About Food)

Once again we are the start of a new work week which means returning to work which is a laborious chore, but fear not for I Otto Control am here to rub some salt in the wound. It has been said countless times that the beginning of the work week is truly dreaded and that reputation is more than warranted as we are all aware. The drudgery drenched in misery aspect to Mondays that we all are well aware of as we sell our time, and more over our lives to a job that is nothing more than final fucking slavery. Allow me to put it simply: of all the species on the entire planet Humans are the only one who have to pay to live here.

                   

Let that sink in for a second as it might be a moment before one can get their mind around it. The unacknowledged aspect to the loathsome Monday equation is that much like full moons have a noticeably advert affect on people’s behavior/mentality. That’s to say when people are angry, annoyed, stressed, or depressed they have the tendency to take out their aggression on those around them. Mondays a mired maze of negativity a veritable breeding ground for both malice and mourning.

So in a salute to the anguished insanity of Monday’s post features a video by ARTIST AND CREATOR UMAMI. Umami (aka Justin Tomchuk) is a Canadian artist and content creator who makes surrealist animated videos. Now this is where it gets a bit precarious as for all intents and purposes do not know the title of the video as I can not read any Asian languages. Aside from the title translation situation this little taste of gothic horror reminds me of something a serial killer would have playing on a projector utilizing a bare wall as a screen.

                   

WARNING:This video contains fast flashing images, and It may cause discomfort and trigger seizures for people with Epilepsy. I am well aware the video itself warns of this, but Les wanted me to add it just to insure we did our dual diligence.

See you on the other side…

  Presented by Otto Control

A Fire Under My Arse

As I woke up feeling completely refreshed for the day at the everlastingly early hour of 9pm, I decided to do things different. This whole equinoxial load of crap had been taking its toll on me. Science says it has to happen but the far trappings of my mind are pure fire and brimstone.

Half and half? Half and half, you say? Well fuck that. Would you really want half and half in your daily life? I mean sure if you are my father you can put it in your coffee. The real world outside of your morning joe says oh the fuck no. Your wife is pregnant, so that is good. But the other half of you is on Maury being told emphatically, “You are NOT the father!!!!”.

You could have only gotten half the answers right on a test. You work at a bank and randomly decided to give half the people the right amount of money. You get halfway to an orgasm. So yeah the general principal does suck a hell of a fucking lot. I want things to be whole. I want myself to be whole.

Truth is when it comes down to it, we are all just a bunch of fragments bunched up into the frame that we were given. Molded together however we so choose to be.

Enough of the crap though this is not why I am really here. I am ready to have a bowel movement. The good kind. The kind a doctor would loom over the toilet bowl peer down at and say, “Why that is a healthy shit sir!”

Don’t you worry though my friend. I am not taking it on you, you or you (yes you, you lazy fuck you know who you are). My sphincter has its eye set on one person and one person alone. That is you Ms. Tori Amos. (thank you Less for getting me all riled up)

The thing is though I haven’t really always hated Tori Amos. In fact, I was one of her biggest fans. I bought all her albums, her b-sides, went to the shows. I even planned to follow her cross country, but alas that is an ill-fated tale for a blog never to be written.

I will say one nice thing about her though and a bit of a counterpoint to Less. Yes, her lyrics are extraordinarily vague but half of artists out there are vague as fuck and then the other half are Justin Bieber and friends. This is actually one of her stronger points. If it’s all spelled out in black and white sure more people might relate. Vagueness does inspire a certain group of haters. I should know I prefer to be vague as it is much better to maneuver around half truths, unspoken words, and the like.

Still though for years and years, I had this deep admiration for this woman. Call it youthful ignorance, call it what you may. I met some of the best friends I had ever had because of the love shared for her. It was a bit Me and A Gun.  Other times it was a Sorta Fairytale and A Cloud on My Tongue.

That all changed on one fateful night. Ten years ago. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I got to meet my hero or well anti-hero. I did not know what to expect.  Someone who was charming and wanted to meet her fans was a good start in my head. I did not want to come across as too cheery but who am I kidding? There is only person in the world who can make me that cheery. Thank you Molly.

This waif of a woman walked over. She was a hell of a lot fucking smaller then I had ever imagined. I mean she is a woman and I did not expect her to be Brienne of Tarth. She just looked like someone who I would walk up to on the street and be compelled to pull a cookie out of my pocket and feed to her. That cookie, you know, I may even have to chew it for her. I instantly knew what the song Girl Disappearing was about it. It was about this cokehead chick.

So you know the celebrity jitters like instantly wore off and my mom’s voice saying, “If you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything” came rushing through my head. My friend Taylor spouted off some kind of soapy bullshit and had me take a selfie. Then it was my turn. I may have said something nice or how my other friend plays her by ear I’m not really sure. She was just so uninterested that I kinda soaked in the same general vibe. Maybe she caught my aghast scowl.

That night changed me. It was like the last bit of childhood naivety being ripped from my chest. It started the moment I was 10 and found out on the news that the Tooth Fairy was a fraud. It ended with you Tori Amos.

I must say as uninterested as you were meeting the fans with your generalized look of Feed Me, I’m A Professional Widow on your face you did put on one hell of a show. In fact the best I had seen until I had the chance to witness Pearl Jam several years back. It was a cold rainy autumn evening and the playlist was reflective of the sort. Then the song that changed it all played. Famous Blue Raincoat. It was the song that played my innocence off the stage, out of the building, into the ether.

I cannot blame you for all this directly so maybe this blog is more of a Hershey squirt and less of a dirty Sanchez for you. I probably should be thanking Leonard Cohen just as much for that song, but it was you who took me there.  I guess that song playing itself out with my one of my greatest loves I will ever have taking his life and the other love in my life rapidly becoming dead to me.

I could not relate as much to your music, mostly the new albums you dropped. In just that one moment, something shut off inside of me. It may be a good thing, there’s been more calculation and clarity since that moment. I guess opinions vary on the end of innocence.

Everything though about that night. I had to wear sunglasses at the show because of the lighting, I realized that my epilepsy was real and would have to live with it. Just so much of a flood of horseshit that at the time I could not even recognize. So Tori Amos… I have a few choice words for you. Fuck you. Thank you. I’ll Make Sure to Wipe.

 

By Spacedog

Last Voicemail Message from SpaceDog Transcribed by Les Sober

Welcome

It was an autumn night. The year 1994. I was 16. I remember this night for it was my first introduction to the ‘gay community’. It was my first night at a gay bar. The people I was with told I was at the ‘Little Roxy’ (in New Brunswick, NJ maybe?).

As I walked in, I took in the room. The first thing I noticed were the stares. The first thing I felt was the hand of an intoxicated man grabbing my ass. It was immediate uncomfortablity. I was offered a drink but I just wanted to get out. I did eventually.

We proceeded to go to Roxy in New York. I was in awe. At first I loved it, then it struck me as odd, then it struck me as love again. I noticed everybody being really gropey to one another. Then the people I was with (a much older sampling of men probably mostly over 40) all started kissing together in a circle. I, being in the city on their pursestrings, joined. It was all odd in the long run, then I was taken home, snuck in my window, and went on with my regular life.

Looking back at this specifically it just strikes me as odd how this group of friends would all get tongue twisted like that. I shouldn’t judge really, I’ve hooked up with a friend or two in my days but it was basically my first impression.

On my eighteenth birthday, I was ostracized by my closest gay friend for not wanting to go out to a club. I wanted to be around my straight friends and for this I was condemned and condoned.

‘Why would you want to be around straight people?’ You can’t get any cock with them!’, he viciously barked at me.

My simple reply was,’Life is not just about sex. It is about being around people that I enjoy the company of whether they are straight or gay.’ Sadly this wasn’t the only time I heard this from a fellow gay.

Prelude to a F*** OFF

Before I begin this section I just want to state that I have had fun at gay bars and clubs in the past. I have also had fun while being stranded in snow storms along the side of the road and have had fun while being searched by the police. I even have had fun with someone after suicide attempt. Does this make me sick and twisted? More then likely yes. I adapt to the cards I am dealt on a given occasion and try to make the best of things. We aren’t always dealt a great hand and even when we are there are infinite ways we can screw it up (and vice versa).

F*** OFF!!!!!!!!!!

I am completely tired of how gay people act as a whole. Sure as a ‘community’ we can band together and protest things like prop 8 which I am proud of, yet the remander of the time we tear one another apart.

I choose not to part of a ‘community’ wear all that is praised is vanity, clothing labels, and how many cocks we can suck. I choose not to be a part of something where self centeredness reigns queen supreme. Where narcassism is considered a positive attribute and altruism is a red flag for let’s take advantage of him. Where people not conforming to the majority are made to feel like a right wing nut job at an Obama rally.

And nearly fifteen years after my first experience with the ‘community’ I have realized nothing has changed. It is all just still a big meat market, devoid of morals, devoid of much more then what can you do for me now. I don’t really expect more and never have or will. It is what it is.

On a personal note, I have noticed that things such as honesty, whether about yourself or someone else is chopped down to an unacceptable level.

Nine times out of ten when I tell someone that I have epilepsy they suddenly look at me differently like I have eight legs or they want me to have a seizure like, ‘HERE SPARKY BARK SPARKY’ F*** SPARKY!!!

I tell them I think Britney Spears, Ashley Simpson, Miley Cyrus and their legion of doom can all go suck my cock and that I like a lot more rock music and that the music playing in this club makes me to shoot myself in the head, they are either personally affronted or think I literally want to shoot myself in the head. Like I’m gonna go out like Kurt Cobain or Layne Staley and off myself just because I listen to their music.

 

When someone asks my opinion, I do not sugar coat it. I tell it like it is. I do not hang in close surroundings with people I detest. People are so offended by bluntness and honesty because the truth hurts.

Would you rather be lied to all your life by people you think are your friends or would you rather be told the truth by your enemies? Lest we forget the old saying:, ‘Keep your friends close but your enemies even closer.’

A lot of people who portray themselves as genuine will stab you in the back in front of their friends. Some people will simply reveal their true colors over time.

Which is why I simply say F*** OFF to the ‘gay community’ and for those of you fed up as well, welcome to my gay revolution.