giantkicks(x)
I think....
This is mine, and therefore I'm fine with suggesting you go away if you don't like it. The weblog has been going for a few years. Recently I started to broadcast, via shoutcast, the internet radio station.
I am Kent Lins, torn between acknowledging that I'm some sort of an artist and forgetting it. When I add that I'm also a designer, some people assume that I would be so arrogant as to mean a web designer. Hey, I don't think so. Have a good look at my site. Does this look like the work of a professional? I design living, work and entertainment spaces. And since at heart I'm not much of a business person, nor much of a social climber, I design infrequently.
Vancouver is where I've lived about 80% of my life. That's Vancouver, Canada, if you didn't know. The heart of my site is still my weblog, which is really more of a lifelog that occasionally becomes a photolog. Mostly things I casually post on are: social injustices, dj culture, figments of art, internet radio stations, street fashion, the urban lifestyle, subcultures [hard to say that without rolling my eyes], and being human.
The radio station is in beta form, spinning out "downtempo, electro, electroclash, electro dub, dubby house," and a few other genre's that are harder to peg.
I painted that background image, which is a group of six images from a collection of 26 paintings. Stating the obvious, I ran it through a couple of filters.
As I said, "go away if you don't like it." ---otherwise, enjoy!
this is a constantly updating image of the sun using a lunar telescope. long live the sun.
(x) Tuesday, December 3, 2002, 08:06 p.m.. "update, bare post"
Well there you have it. Weeks later, using all my non-work, non-social, non-chore, spare time I've accomplished two goals. I am now broadcasting a radio station in beta [links to which are in the "(x) Radio" menu on the right], using the Shoutcast stream server, and music that I hope the Canadian Government doesn't shut me down for streaming. And look, a new design for giantkicks! It's tableless [#0791], using css, and seems to degrade down to the "dinosaur" screensize of 640 X 480! I haven't yet checked it on different browsers, knowing that some rebel surfers, like unxmaal, use mozilla or opera, but I will some day.---next is to shrink down the images to thumbnails, with a pop up link to a full size image...speed things up for you dial up users!!
Out.
(x) Thursday, November 21, 2002, 05:10 p.m.. "Terror, terror everywhere"
Just finished reading William Rivers Pitt's article at Alternet, regarding the Department of Homeland Security. I'm scared for you people down there. Things are getting out of hand.
The Bill: "Redefines the term 'Terrorism.' Before, 'Terrorism' involved explosions, murder, kidnapping and any activity that used violence to frighten civilians and change the manner in which a government functioned. Under the new legislation, the definition of 'Terrorism' is expanded. Now, 'Terrorism' is defined as an act that, "Is a violation of the criminal laws of the United States or of any State or other subdivision of the United States," or "Appears to be intended to intimidate or coerce a civilian population." Protests against the government or against a private contractor involved with the government are intended to 'coerce' the civilian population. Loitering is a criminal offense. If you do either of these from now on, you may consider yourself welcomed into the ranks of international terrorism. Seriously."
(x) Thursday, November 21, 2002, 12:56 p.m.. "boring bastards rock. i missed"
Bastard Pop.---not sure what the big deal is, but someone thinks there's a trend of people bootlegging unlikely mixes of pop stars. Like "pop babe Christina Aguilera finds herself backed by scruffy garage rock band the Strokes on A Stroke of Genius; and R&B diva Whitney Houston is spliced with robotic German electro-pioneers Kraftwerk on I Wanna Dance With Numbers."---uh, topic posted at Metafilter.
Does this post have a bored feeling to it? Indeed I am bored. Just crumpling time up and flipping it towards the garbage can. So bored I keep missing.---sorry if I bored you...
(x) Sunday, November 17, 2002, 12:16 a.m.. "Form your own damned opinions"
Credit this report to the Village Voice, of absolute lying to the public regarding Iraq and Kuwait in the 90's. --but hey, that was over ten years ago...things have changed since then..haven't they?-- Links are mine:
After convening a number of focus groups to try to figure out which buttons to press to make the public respond, H&K determined that presentations involving the mistreatment of infants, a tactic drawn straight from W.R. Hearst's playbook of the Spanish-American War, got the best reaction. So on October 10, 1990, the Congressional Human Rights Caucus held a hearing on Capitol Hill at which H&K, in coordination with California Democrat Tom Lantos and Illinois Republican John Porter, introduced a 15-year-old Kuwaiti girl named Nayirah. (Purportedly to safeguard against Iraqi reprisals, Nayirah's full name was not disclosed.) Weeping and shaking, the girl described a horrifying scene in Kuwait City. "I volunteered at the al-Addan hospital," she testified. "While I was there I saw the Iraqi soldiers coming into the hospital with guns and going into the room where 15 babies were in incubators. They took the babies out of the incubators, took the incubators, and left the babies on the cold floor to die." Allegedly, 312 infants were removed.
The tale got wide circulation, even winding up on the floor of the United Nations Security Council. Before Congress gave the green light to go to war, seven of the main pro-war senators brought up the baby-incubator allegations as a major component of their argument for passing the resolution to unleash the bombers. Ultimately, the motion for war passed by a narrow five-vote margin.
Only later was it discovered that the testimony was untrue. H&K had failed to reveal that Nayirah was not only a member of the Kuwaiti royal family, but also that her father, Saud Nasir al-Sabah, was Kuwait's ambassador to the U.S. H&K had prepped Nayirah in her presentation, according to Harper's publisher John R. MacArthur's book Second Front: Censorship and Propaganda in the Gulf War. Of the seven other witnesses who stepped up to the podium that day, five had been prepped by H&K and had used false names. When human rights organizations investigated later, they could not find that Nayirah had any connection to the hospital. Amnesty International, among those originally duped, eventually issued an embarrassing retraction.
When asked if it acknowledges the incubator story as a deception, H&K's media liaison, Suzanne Laurita, only responded, "The company has nothing to say on this matter." Pushed further on whether such deception was considered part of the public relations industry, she reiterated, "Please know again that this falls into the realm that the agency has no wish to confirm, deny, comment on."
Years later, Scowcroft, the national security adviser at the time, concluded that the tale was surely "useful in mobilizing public opinion."
(x) Saturday, November 16, 2002, 08:34 p.m.. "Wild Horses couldn't keep me away..."
About 200 wild horses' lives, in the interior of B.C., are being fought for in the provincial courts. These are the last of a few thousand, and one of three herds, in Canada. It is thought that they may come from a line of wild horses rooted back to Mustangs released in Mexico by the Spanish in the late 1600's. Currently they are considered "feral" and are therefore not protected by the Ministry of Water, Land and Air Protection. Instead, the government wants to issue logging rights to the area where this herd roams. And the native tribe, the Xeni Gwet'in, are suing the government for title to a 155,000-hectare home for the horses, bears, wolves, moose, deer and other wildlife that populate it. The case will be heard in B.C. Supreme Court beginning Monday, and is scheduled to last 120 days.
UPDATE, DEC 04: Kim sent me these links.
(x) Thursday, November 14, 2002, 10:28 p.m.. "Fucking Mexicans!"
Is the title of this post offensive? You know I know it is. But it's the less offensive angle of the statement that I'd like you to consider as you check out 9 pages of photos by Joseph Rodríguez and the integrated essay by Rubén Martínez. The piece has been photographed and written with candor and intimate knowledge of fucking in Mexico. Fucking related to church, family and ego.---personally I think fucking Mexicans are fucking cool.
Near the end my eyes welled up as I looked over the shoulders of Gerardo González who documented the work of the Mexican city of Cholula's dog squad. His 27 images titled A Dog's Life, follow the dog squad capturing and executing unwanted family pets and stray dogs.
added later: that entry reminded me of when I was in Istanbul in 1998--oh no, not another Istanbul vignette--at a Prodigy concert with Deniz, a student of mine. Outside were a litter of puppies roaming around in the grass, looking unwell but way cute just the same. I took two back to my apartment and spent a small fortune at various vets on drugs and specialty vitamins trying to kill parasites and put a stopper in their butts as they shat constantly. I named the male Sumo and the female Sushi [Deniz's name, the girl I went to the concert with, means Sea. Su means water..You know, water::sea. And shi, well duh, = she. Sushi.] I gave up the puppies, to a family living down the street from my friend Ergument's, before leaving for my 3 1/2 months adventure in the Mediterranean village of Kas. Arriving healthy and ambitious to help design and set up a very cool cafe bar called TURKO where we played drum and bass, downtempo, acid jazz, and some deep house. It was hot. But we were shut down barely 2 weeks after opening, and the owner liked me enough to pay me to stay and wait till he could open it again. So yes, believe it, I got paid to swim in the Mediterranean, and draw and paint, and drink, and dance, and eat, and have an amazing time while waiting for permission from all the authorities to re-open. My stars were in an interesting alignment because permission kept getting delayed, for about two months. Turns out that some well connected shifty Mafia guy wanted the Cafe Bar to fail so he could take it over. So he bribed the local authorities to keep it closed till the end of the tourist season. That way he could take it over the next season--someone did take it over--Even in Kas I found myself forking out money to a Veterinarian. This one on holiday from France who helped me with a very ill stray kitten. I paid for medicine. He told me what to get and charged nothing. Even rigging up an intravenous of a vitamin booster. [hmmn or was that for me?]. I myself got very sick, losing some 8-14 lbs in about a week and was unable to follow through on caring for the poor little thing. The Vet went home. Kitty died.
added even later: that entry got me hunting down my travel journals to see what I wrote. Floods of memory. Aching for my friends in Turkey. Aching for Turkey. I found another passage I wrote in March 98. In the winter Istanbul can be very depressing. One night after walking in a torrent of rain and letting my mind wander over some dark drawings I'd been working on, I headed to Gizli Bahce [Secret Garden: my favorite cafe-bar in Istanbul] to hang out, dry and drink Ihlamur cay [Linden tea]. All the buildings grey. Streetlights dim from the filter of rain. Smell of damp garbage and hundreds of years of history. Soaked feet, wearing a wool sweater under a black cotton hoody. Rushing to get to a warm cup of tea, and the company of all the creatives and outsiders of Gizli Bahce. In the entrance sat the tiniest puppy ever, shivering with a glazing in it's eyes as it looked up and down the street for it's parent. I took it inside and then afterwards took it's shiting and vomiting little body to my place. Two days later I dropped him at a Vetrinarian's. The next day when I went to check up on him, he was dead. Died that night. I payed my bill, and felt helpless.
(x) Wednesday, November 13, 2002, 03:39 p.m.. "Lynch that painter"
Looks as if David Lynch, yes the director, hasn't painted in a while either.
(x) Wednesday, November 13, 2002, 10:21 a.m.. "wacked weavers weaving war relics"
C684 Afghan Turkoman War Rug, 1'8"x3'3" - 5.00 
Weird. Even if some aren't made in Afganistan, it's weird that rugs were made as souveniers of the Soviet/Afganistan war, and that there are rugs currently being made depicting recent Afganistanian events.--are they wacked artists, or wacked capitalists?
(x) Tuesday, November 12, 2002, 03:27 p.m.. "stencil click. sticker click"
.jpg=clickable
(x) Monday, November 11, 2002, 11:41 p.m.. "kill, kill, kill"
top
(x) Monday, November 11, 2002, 10:45 p.m.. "fair or not"
I find myself suprised that news agencies haven't become targets as a result of their reporting practices. Fairness in reporting has a huge list, just related to Iraq, of glaring contradictions, censorship, manipulations, and l--s.
top(x) Friday, November 8, 2002, 01:09 p.m.. "your whole fucking identity"
i can't seem to get myself to stay in my studio. i'm at a point where the only way for me to progress is to plunge into a discovery phase. lately i'm either making shit, as in making nothing, or i'm making shit, as in making crap because i'm uninspired. and i'm way resistant to the solution. way resistant to fucking around, messing about, fiddling with stuff and so on. i'm addicted to results, and tend to disregard the mess of discovery. i'm also not very obsessed with the idea of being a productive artist anymore. by comparison of gratifications, art making lies low and things like living stand high. recently kirstie suggested that it's an identity issue. "That studio thing, it's totally hard to make the transition into, it's no wonder you're wrestling with it. It has to become your whole fucking identity to do it, so that being out of your studio means having no identity. You know?" --i know, and i don't want to know. it scares the fuck out of me. my experience is that when i've been productive i've separated myself from far too much living.
top(x) Friday, November 8, 2002, 11:04 a.m.. "Presidential Premonition"
QUOTATION: "The things that will destroy America are prosperity-at-any-price, peace-at-any-price, safety-first instead of duty-first, the love of soft living, and the get-rich-quick theory of life."
ATTRIBUTION: Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919), U.S. Republican (later Progressive) politician, president. letter (Jan. 10, 1917).
Yesterday I heard the U.S. will [oil] spend [oil] more [oil] than [oil] 0,000,000,000 [two hundred billion dollars][oil] if [oil] it [oil] proceeds [oil] with [oil] bombing [oil] Iraq [oil] for [oil] Saddam [oil].--that's like about 200 dollars per citizen. Damn. That's actually a pretty good deal. Here in Vancouver it costs about 200 bucks just to break a leg, if you can find a crack head to do it for you. But in the US you get to kill thousands, including a world leader, and take over a country for about 200 bucks per person.
AND piss the hell of of some wacked out, freaked out, loser terrrorists who will no doubt retaliate in some horrific manner. I mean, shit, do Americans really want to holiday at home, behind their tightly guarded borders? Retaliations will happen, and the only places possible will be outside America's borders. On the soils of other countries, on their beaches, anywhere, any situation that remotely symbolizes America. Something will be twisted in the mind of terrorists to avenge their cause.
added later as an after thought: President Bush is the former head of a Texas oil company, Vice President Dick Cheney is the former CEO of oil services giant Halliburton, and National security adviser Condoleezza Rice is a former director of Chevron.
(x) Sunday, November 3, 2002, 05:36 p.m.. "prison madness"
So inmates in Canada can once again vote in Federal Elections, the sentiment being that prison is about separating criminals from society, not separating the prisoner from their responsibilities as citizens.
---while following "prisoner" around google, I found a story of injustice wrought against Iva Toguri for supposedly being "Tokyo Rose." Tokyo Rose being the name fabricated to put a face to all the Japanese women who broadcast anti-American propaganda to American soldiers in the Pacific. It seems Toguri was an American citizen stuck in Japan and forced to broadcast as "Orphan Ann/Annie." In actuality a patriot caught in the post-war madness of blaming and witch hunts. Madness? Yes. Madness. When facts get distorted, as in her story, to support an agenda, it's madness.
Witnesses, in her trial for treason, were coached for a month before hand and threatened to be put on trial themselves if they didn't do as told. Jurors believed she was innocent but they succumbed to peer and social pressures to convict someone, anyone. Toguri didn't start broadcasting till long after the name Tokyo Rose was invented, and the flavour of her broadcasts as Orphan Annie were pretty innocent compared to the mythological broadcasts of Tokyo Rose.-In 1949, when the trial jury deadlocked after a 56-day trial, the judge refused the juror's request for dismissal, pointing out that the trial had been "long and expensive." The jury returned two days later, finding Toguri guilty of one count. Her offense boiled down to a single sentence: "Orphans of the Pacific, you are really orphans now. How will you get home now that your ships are sunk?" She Spent 6 years of a 10 year sentence in prison , payed a fine of 10,000 dollars, and was pardoned in 1977, as President Gerald Ford's last Presidential act, not long after 60 minutes broadcast an interview with her.---the fbi version, from the U.S. government's files, isn't very sympathetic.
(x) Wednesday, October 30, 2002, 03:01 p.m.. "radio food"
In case you didn't notice I've updated my internet radio links and organized them under genre headings. Removed some tired sounds and added some new more vibrant ones. ---
has been like medicine these days. Someone in Moscow spins stuff that makes me feel like I've got the energy to get up and do stuff. Grocery shopping might be a good place to start. When I looked in my fridge this morning I realised just how run down I've been, too run down for shopping. Except for liquids and condiments, it's empty; no bread, no nut butter, no soya slices, no cheese, nothing frozen, no eggs, not even leftovers.
(x) Tuesday, October 29, 2002, 05:35 p.m.. "dance history"
The History of Popular Electronic Dance Music: 1970 to 2000. By Adam Blomberg.---another well written document.
top(x) Tuesday, October 29, 2002, 10:16 a.m.. "die cold, diesel lives, dieselboy comes"
So last weekend I overexerted my capacity for fun and my body quietly succumbed to to a cold that intends to linger. Lingering is what I hear this one's all about. Get's in your lungs and sinuses, curls up with a fat assed book and pilfers pleasure from all the tea you drink to get rid of it. Not only does it pilfer pleasure but it pokes a hole in your energy resources, slides a straw in and sucks. Yes it sucks. It sucks to be invaded by a cold that consumes all your energy. It sucks to have to humour it, and to find weaker parts of the body betraying the other stronger parts. And to see and feel the gradual breaking down of resistance until most everything is overcome. And here I am, tail end [I hope] of it all, hacking up stuff that I quickly turn my eyes away from once spat into the toilet. Piles of tissue in garbages. Shaved ginger and lemon slices in every tea cup. ---it's so boring.
But tonight I'm going to my sewing class. I'll try to contain my germs by huddling in a corner of the classroom, keeping these disgusting little invaders to myself.--fuckers--I'm making a vest out of dark denim, with a bunch of phat metal zippers, and a black jersey [sweat suit material] liner. Wanting it to fit snug. Look hard. Hard, so when I smile it has more impact. There's one by diesel that has the right look. I keep seeing it in magazines and billboards. I keep seeing it and thinking "yeeah.---that's it. Nice. Hard."
After that it's off to tactical to see some of the Soundproofians swarm Sonar.
Speaking of Diesel and Sonar, just a reminder that one very serious Drum and Bass dj, dieselboy, will be melting wax out of ears at Sonar November 7th. Check out this album preview compliments of Artists direct.
(x) Friday, October 25, 2002, 10:30 a.m.. "Nick Nolte, the 61 yr old party animal"
Sounds like Nick Nolte was flailing back in September when he was arrested. "The arresting officer described Nolte as disheveled and drooling.." and he was "swerving [his Mercedes]into oncoming highway lanes." He's charged with being under the influence of a controlled substance. Namely GHB. Jeez. Party animal.