Elasticine = Pretty Young Thing

gargoyleMood: OCD-ish
Drinking: Water

I’m always excited to bring you a new cinepoem. And I probably always say that this one is my favorite. But it’s true every time. They’re all shiny and special in their own little ways.

OK, but this time? This time I’m extra-super-cali-fragi-listically excited. Her name is Elasticine, and you’ll see right away that she’s different than all the others.

Back in 2005 when Boy and I were wandering all over Italy, we spent a sunny morning in Venice creating a cinepoem of still photos. The finished product was called Epic, and we loved her.


Elasticine uses the same idea, creating a cinepoem out of photographs instead of moving pictures, but adds a few new twists. Boy shot all the photos last November during one rainy day in Paris. We rode the Metro all over town for this cinepoem, and it really did take all day. And we got rained on. A lot. And it was cold. But I remember saying to Boy whilst shivering on a train platform, “When we’re done with this, it will be so pretty that nobody will know how miserable we were while we were shooting it!”

Besides, if you’re doing a shoot in Paris, there has to be an umbrella involved at some point, or you’re not doing it right.

The other extra-special thing about Elasticine is the guest-voice of one Mister Robert Kostrzeski. That sexy French voice you’ll hear throughout the poem belongs to him, and we had a lot of fun recording it in Michael’s bedroom closet a few weeks ago.

Oh, and another thing — this cinepoem features the tattoo I got in Paris from the lovely Laura Satana. We actually shot all the photos the day after I got the tattoo, so that really is me peeling the plastic wrap from my still shiny and sticky new ink and washing it off for the first time. Fun!

You’ll probably also notice that Elasticine is a very non-linear kind of girl who’s really enamored with a certain French phrase. She talks a lot about seasonal mud pies and haunted shopping carts. And if you ask me what the hell it all means I’ll just say, “Well, what does it mean to you?”

So go to The Cinepoems page to try to figure her out, and pretend like you’re in Paris for a day. She’s all yours now.

For you PC lovers, we’ve got a Windows version in the works. But if you can’t wait another second, you can view Elasticine in the videos section of MySpace or at YouTube.

-Lo, who tried to take that gargoyle home, but found he has a nasty temper

I Love Paris in December

Mood: Enchanted
Drinking: Shortly

From where I sit, right this second, if I turn my head just to the left, like this, I can see the Eiffel Tower.

Yes, it’s true. I’m in Paris. I’m still pinching myself to make sure, and the bruises all indicate that I’m really, really here.

Boy and I are in a seventh floor flat near the Bastille. It’s all ours for the next few days. From the windows, I can see la Tour Eiffel, Notre Dame, Hotel des Invalides (where Napoleon is buried), and Sacre Couer up the hill in Montemartre. So basically, all of Paris is unfurled just below our noses.

We arrived yesterday afternoon (It’s Friday morning in Paris right now, but nearly midnight on Thursday at home.) by train from Switzerland. So far we’ve taken the Boy and Lo show to Milan, Florence, Zurich, and now gay Paris.

We met up with several friends in Florence, two of whom ran the AIDS Marathon last Sunday. Both of them finished with excellent times (that’s you, Roy and Michael!!!), and we were so very proud.

So now Boy and I are on the last leg of our European adventure, and what better place to wind it up than here, in the city of lights. I’ve got a full day of exploration waiting for me, so I’d best get dressed and get out there.

I’ll get to the finer details later…

-Lo, who’s looking forward to using the French phrase that S concocted especially for me to use when I’m out shopping and find something irresistable: “Ravissante. Je mourirai de la beaute, mais je suis trop exquisemente sophistiquee.” (Ravishing! I would die from the beauty, but I am just too exquisitely sophisticated.)

There and Back Again

Mood: Beehive Brain
Drinking: Tea

I’m on the brink of a European vacation and fairly vibrating with the excitment. I can’t concentrate on work, am completely worthless in meetings, and really just need to get on a plane and go, already. But I haven’t packed yet. And that will take awhile…

This time around, Boy and I will be visiting the lovely cities of Paris, Zurich, Florence, Milan, and wherever else we happen to stop along the way.

I’ve already got my tickets to see DaVinci’s Last Supper in the convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie, Michelangelo’s David at the Accademia, and one of my favorite paintings, Botticelli’s Birth of Venus at the Uffizi. I’m also hoping to come face-to-face with the Mona Lisa while in Paris.

It won’t all be museums, though. There will be lots of eating and shopping and general meandering about. I find that getting lost in a new city is one of the best ways to get to know it. And I plan on getting lost both on foot and by scooter. We’re going to be doing a lot of rail riding, as well, but I’m pretty sure we’ll stay on track with that mode of transport.

I’m hoping to get inked by Laura Satana while I’m in Paris. Boy and I got our first international tattoos while we were in Rome last year, and we want to continue the tradition on this trip. (I’m sure my mom will be happy to hear that.)

One of the best parts of this trip is that we’ll be meeting up with friends while we’re in Italy. It will be fun to see some familiar faces in a strange land. Last year, toward the end of our two-week stint, I really started to miss my friends. It’s eerie to be in a country for an extended period of time and realize that absolutely no one except your partner knows who you are.

There is so much to look forward to. I’m already inspired and I haven’t even done anything yet! I predict this trip will yield a cinepoem (or two). Meanwhile, I’ll continue to be manic and worthless. Perhaps I’ll start packing early, just to make myself feel better. It’s going to be a miracle if I can close that suitcase without sitting on it!

-Lo, who has been trying to recall those two years of college French but so far can only remember “Je m’appelle LaDonna” and that football player with Tourette’s who sat next to me with an occasional twitch.

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