Sunday, June 03, 2007

TLASILA > Los Angeles, CA > The Smell > 5 May 07 > Vidcaps

The proceedings were filmed by Rodney Ascher; many thanks, comrade. Rat, Ben, Liz, Graham, the Robot and I were joined by Tom Van Dyke, Scott Kinsey and Ren Schofield.

In Rodney's video, an unexpected, ideally positioned jump-cut takes us from bliss directly to tumult (and associated twitchings).

If we failed to say hello either before or after, forgive us. We were distracted by the rest of you...

Death to False Falsecore,

TS

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(The Smell allowed a rather less noisome vibe than one might have expected - a higher order of bliss ruled the hour. Above, Misty slips into her skin.)



(The voyeurs nest and arrest the spectrum...)



(Ren Schofield's face can be glimpsed through Tom's fingers; the others, left to right, are Scott Kinsey, Graham Moore, TS, a sliver of Tom Van Dyke, and Rat Bastard..)



(Ben navigates the rift...)



(Six of nine... Liz, Ben, SK, GM, TS, TVD...)



(Die Rattus...)




(Van Dyke emerges from the video shadows at far right...)



(The Robot finally gets a word in...)

TLASILA > San Francisco, CA > The Hemlock > 4 May 07 > Vidcaps

We were joined at the Hemlock by Weasel Walter and Marlon Kasberg; videography courtesy of local volunteer Adam, with thanks.

TS

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(Tom communes with the Robot; Graham and Rat stab out their instructions...)



(Weasel and Marlon sniff the Hemlock air as Ben prepares his forward pike...)



(Graham and Rat, adrift in the rarefied slipstream...)




(BW and GM think Kagel while noting the inherent weaknesses of V****; Marlon parts the curtain.)



(Rat murders; Tom enjoys a nanosec in the spotlight.)



(We exist in isolation...)



(But allow for the anomalous to rend the frame... Dominic takes flight!)



(Graham and The Rat, "...Berlin, married, one child...")



("Syringes, Inspector." Sorry, I'm watching Fassbinder's Die dritte Generation while typing these captions...)



Mr. Trix usurps élan...)



(MK, GM, und RB...)




(A microphone grows from Tom's back as spirits converge...)




(Fuck yes we're motley, and all the better for it.)



(Fly-catching time, stage left.)



(Clearly not a leg-hump... More a failed takedown. The audience yelped nonetheless, and either approved or cursed the action. I'm suddenly reminded of the "SPK Gang" in Stallone's tolerably risible Cobra...)



(Weasel flails in the pit as the spill widens...)



(The rift, in oscillation...)