Archive for the 'Burgess' Category
I can promise you, if I make it to February with these two turkeys in the oven we’ll all be impressed. The last couple of weeks have been a little more exciting than you’d like a twin pregnancy to be, what with a couple of hospital stays due to some preterm labor symptoms. I’m not and wasn’t, by the way, in labor. Thank god. But I was in the hospital, and I am on strict bedrest now until, well, until the boys are here. If all goes well, they’re not going to get here for another 10 weeks. If it goes decently, it’ll be another 7. A lifetime and an unconscious blink, all at once.
But guess what? Second Life turns out to be the PERFECT thing to do when you have hours upon hours of time where you can’t do anything but sit your ass in one place!
So over the past few days I have renewed my obsession with building things. I mean all day long staring at the laggy assed screen obsession. Like, trying to keep myself out of SL right now long enough to write this post obsession. Mostly I’ve been making furniture for our loft in Topgol, hopefully that will be tweaked for the store I wanted to open way back in the way back. This has forced me to try to relearn how to make poses for the furniture (hellloo Qavimator and thanks Ana Lutetia for saving my poor head from being cracked open on the corner of my headboard from repeated banging. Not the good kind, either.)
The pose Alex and I are in up there is not of my making – I am nowhere close to that talented. It’s one of the Adore poses by Torrid Midnight and you can grab it at Torridwear. Of course, it’s a much sexier pose if the two avatars are, say, not pregnant and not grimacing.
And by the way, speaking of Alex, you should all go read his piece on identity. It’s rather good and makes you think. That is to say, it’s good if you like to think.
Hey! I might start posting regularly here again!
Seriously, Second Life might be saving my brain from serious stir craziness. And that just rocks.No comments
Here in the state’s it’s Thanksgiving, and we’ll all celebrate by buying the largest damned turkey we can carry without back support and serving it up for our friends and folks. Then we’ll fall asleep in front of the television, feeling slightly ill from way too much food and drink. When we wake up, we’ll do it again for either dinner or a late night snack, and fall asleep plumped up and bloated. It’s the American way.
There are a number of things about this pic that are fiction. First of all, I am on strict bedrest now after a short stint in the hospital (I’m fine, the babies are fine too), so I won’t be serving Alex any damned bird. Second of all, even if I wasn’t, I can’t cook a turkey anymore than it could cook me. Alex is the birdman. I do the salads, soups and sauces. And lastly, I do not own a Thanksgiving dress, but rest assured if I did, it would be orange and I would probably layer it over something totally inappropriately matched, such as the grey and black striped shirt I have on here.
On that note, I hope you all have a totally wonderful day with loved ones, and may you sleep soundly through every commercial!No comments
Ever since I’ve known Alex (which is a very long time) he’s had a crate of these that have followed him into every domicile he’s ever inhabited. Even long after he ability to burn things to cd or create playlists in iTunes. In his post on his youthful mix tape habit he at long last delves into the personal matter of collection addiction, and the result is a kick ass mix of songs from the 80s.
The music is buried deep in the text, but it’s there and worth the dig.
Alex has done SL the favor of a long-ass but well argued and thought out post on why (biological) women in SL have trouble meeting (biological) men in SL. Includes stats!
He is far more scientific about the matter than I am, so you’ll probably be much better off reading what Alex has to say than listening to me mouth off. Consider yourselves saved! (Of course, I did get a word or two in the comments.)
Highly recommended reading.No comments
Burgess here. Just wanted to drop in and talk about a few things. First, those of you who I haven’t seen inworld recently, I miss you. Okay, not all of you. If you’re thinking, “Nah, he doesn’t miss me,” and you’re inclined to think well of yourself, you’re probably right. Everyone else, I miss. The depressives should just kid themselves and try hard to believe I miss them too. God, this is coming out all wrong.
Second, I started another blog where I can not post as much as I don’t post here: Everything Hits at Once. There is currently a post or two up there, including a truncated version of this one. If you’re at all interested, peruse it while it’s hot, because it will likely go dormant shortly. I’m reminded of the Dread Pirate Roberts: “Good night, Westley, sleep well. I shall probably kill you in the morning.”
And C, Clockwork is doing well, but there are only three of us dj’ing at the moment and we could use some assistance and promotions. So this is an open call for djs and a manager.
In terms of djs, I’m picky. Could be that’s why there’s only three of us at the moment. I want either college radio geeks or club freaks. It’s all right with me if you went to college in the 80s, I just want someone who was at some point obsessed with indie or punk rock, or serious about dance music. I want people who can both please a crowd and turn people on to rare gems and fresh tracks. I’m not interested in FM Pop, what passes for R&B these days, or the same house hits and industrial trance that three-quarters of all SL clubs spew forth 24/7. You work for tips. The club doesn’t take a cut. Drop a notecard on me, Alexander Burgess, with a short 12-song set or IM me inworld to talk about it. Impress me. Non-North Americans welcome.
If you think you’d like to help manage the club, you should to be able to:
– Be there a few nights a week, particularly when I’m not there, just to check that things are running smoothly, help bring people in, chat with the crowd
– Help find new talent and devise ways to promote the scene at the club without running the same pajama-and-peanut butter contests we see elsewhere. Okay, maybe a pajama-and-peanut butter contest or two, but nothing less ridiculous.
– Share my vision of a club that combines good conversation and serious music appreciation
– Get along with—or at least put up with—me and my occasionally crabby flakiness
I know that’s asking a lot, but it would be a paying job for the right person.
Please let your friends and enemies know and sic them on me. Thanks.1 comment
Real quick. The other day I was digging in my inventory to look for proper attire for Codebastard’s latex party last weekend. I confess, it’d been awhile since I’d broken out the latex and I wasn’t at all sure of what look to go for. So I cobbled together my clear latex underthings for that shiny just greased pig look, and wore black pants from an old BareRose outfit I had from long ago, complete with holes in the leg and thigh, revealing spots of my shiny ass, topped with a black shiny patent leather halter top. To complete the look, I wore my bruiser skin from Civvies, which comes complete with black eye and massive scrapes and burns on the torso, fully visible. Sorry I didn’t take a photo – it was a really priceless look. With that, I wanted to shop a little bit before the party and said to Alex, “Let’s go and see how long it takes for some noob asshole to hit on me.”
Guess how long it took?
Not very. The minute I landed at the first stop, this dude in the picture above starts chatting me up. I am really losing my touch too, because I didn’t take any photos, and I didn’t deliver any Myg style smack down. I was just kind of – bored. It was like too predictable or something. Alex tp’d in and tried using various orbiters on the guy, but none worked. It was really a little depressing. As the guy started talking about how he doesn’t have enough L to buy a penis, I just tp’d away. Sad story, huh? Sorry – I said I had to get back into the swing of things here.No comments
It’s summer time and what says summer more than condiments? That’s right, I, dj keTchUp, return tonight to lay down the retro wax and hot trax at Clockwork, 6 p.m. SL time. Okay, I know I’m wearing a jacket in that pic and it’s hot as fuck-all outside these days, but I liked it and forgot it was in my invy, and goddamn if it ain’t SecondLife, I can wear whatever I damn well please. Este’s trying to convince me that weather is some kind of jedi mind trick anyway. So I set the AC to 65 degrees in the club, cranked the sound system to 140db spinning some bleak 80s tracks, and started pouring scotch while imagining the sweet cool breezes of November.
Those of you still hooked on summer can show up in whatever you like and if you get cold, we’ll warm you up or you can party naked on the rooftop.Those of us inside can wax poetic about powder and argue skis vs boards. Ah, who am I kidding, I’ll prolly be on the roof as well, unless I can get someone to clean up that mess downstairs.
Remember, 6 p.m., Clockwork, Topgol. Hours of sonic indulgence from retro rock to indie punk electroshock. There’ll be blogrock, spitpop, and fraggle rock. Even tiptop, slopshop, and cockjock. You might even hear the latest underground daNceYC mix, Detroit trips, and psychotronicslaveraves from the desert ships. Who knows? I might even break out the grill and get the Jerseycue going for all my friends. See you there.1 comment
Funk Me; It’s Friday | 27 June 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Don Wright & The Housebreakers: Corn Bread
The Braids: Young Americans
Sylvia Striplin: Give Me Your Love
Peter Brown feat. Betty Wright background vocals: Dance With Me
Al Hudson & the Soul Partners: How Do You Do
Hidden Strength: Hustle On Up (Do the Bump)
Los Amigos Invisibles: Mi Linda
Dyke & The Blazers: Funky Walk Part I (East)
Dyke & The Blazers: Funky Walk Part II (West)
Illya Kuryaki & The Valderramas: Jaguar House
Famous Chromes: Groove On
Chicago Gangsters: Gangster Love
Control Machete: Humanos Mexicanos
James Brown: The Payback
Mexican Institute of Sound: La la La
Betty Wright: Girls Can’t Do What The Guys Do
Sister Josephine James: I’m Glad