We are knee deep in work at the HQ, often doing stuff into late night. So what happens when it’s all caffeine acid bubbling around your eyeballs and you’re going starving amok? That’s right. Sin City breakfast tacos. (No, actually it’s more coffee. But it sounded nice. And we could cook it up anyways.) Robert Rodriguez for cooking vcasts, he’s a god! Click here for the recipe and the transcript.

The oubliette has a body of Latvian crevice and sunshine blind, right across the portside café she sways in two bodies distinct but ultimately, unseparable, devilicious, an automaton of cellular attention-to-adhesive. Eyes closed, VI, XVII, as it rarely happens, a constellation of IV and a number of zeroes, neatly folded into accounts from Zurich to Macau, brokers intimately sharing the Christmas morning gift of embracing each last digit, the remains still elegant, enough for countries to pay their national attribution to the beacons on Mars, and at a later iteration, Saturn. On days, when the snowflakes draw an orgy of Sierpinskis across the highways of crimson and cinnamon fuckpale beige, she comes alone, like a virus she comes, with an intensity she seldom flickers to virility double, even treble. She comes first in a hotel room. The air smells like ozone and in the corner, Sibiu surplus stomp oil. The IV fades, III remains unsolved. The oubliette has a habit of imprinting memories, the locks that lead to those memory universes are tight. Ping them in certain patterns, certain timing. Take the wonderland vasopressine, thake the merriment cocaine. Memories go blank, rigid, the color of a dead dragonfly.


Bobby Quine flips the tarot, the deck says it is all in the oubliette. Quine cuts the decks, shuffles, cuts again. Always the same cards. But he is forgetting, he learns how to forget. And he is getting exceedingly efficient at it.

Random text with random video. Which is a surprisingly good moodsetter, by the way. Automatic writing, how it turns out this is.

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Hollywood szerint tizenhárom éve meg kellett volna halnod, 1997-ben ugyanis a Skynet mesterséges intelligencia nukleáris holokausztot és géphadsereget szabadít a világra. Aki dolgozott már telemarketingesként vagy technical supportként, itt ledobja az újságot, rágyújt, kinéz az ablakon és lassan rábólint: az emberiség körülbelül ezt érdemli és sem Beethoven, sem a dupla anál nem mozdít a fajunk nettó javára semmit.

Februártól savas spermát fröcskölök Budapest felett, ahova hullik, gonosz újságírók bújnak ki a repedések közül. Elindult a THE DAMAGE REPORT a Mondo magazinban, pengessetek a februári számért az újságárusoknál. Vagy fenyegessétek meg a felnőtteket és vegyétek el tőlük, úgyis csak hazudni tudnak.

if morning is black / and memories clean / then dreams comes back / which you’ve never seen. Above, a less-than-two-minutes long trailer for EXAELLA, a new anime done by Russian film/music cavalier Andrew Oudot. According to him, Exaella is cyberpunk-anime style movie. Actions of this story occurs during a post-apocalyptic time. Millions of people has fallen in lethargy to save remained resources. But few awakened souls tries to rescue the fallen asleep population.

Exaella is planned to be released in the second half of 2010, according to his notes, the creation process is at around 40%, so they still have a hard and bumpy way to go. The trailer looks thick and creepy enough, though, with certain flashes and moments reminding you of Ergo Proxy, Blame! and Ghost in the Shell. The visuals will also appeal to anyone into the demoscene (like those who love Conspiracy or Haujobb). And without getting into more details, check Oudot’s ambient/filmscore track on the links below. He’s a mean threat!