Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

Make it good.

I've been sitting here, off and on while arting, with a program called Babylon, which is a machine translator. I have been translating my poetry into German and back into English to see what gets lost. Most of the descriptive mis-translations, I really like their choice of synonym. Hard driving language, German is.

Why German? Because I love the harsh tones of it. If I translated it to French, I would have a much better chance of being able to pronounce it. Though Babylon has a voice translation option, I didn't listen to it because I figured it was a robot voice, and robot voices creep me out. They really need to work on that. Get on that, Science. Oi! You there, in the lab coat! No more robot voices!

And part of me wants to publish a translated book in Europe. Maybe Spanish, French and German. Possibly Dutch. I used to have a following in the Netherlands. I was on TV there. They played the mixes that were made with my voice in the clubs. People danced to me. Those were the days.

My real claim to fame? Okay, I'll tell you. Judy Tenuda once called me a "Pseudo Virgin" because I was laughing so hard at her gig and I was right next to the stage and I kept distracting her. My parents and a few of my friends were there. It was pretty fun. I worshiped her at the time. I listened to her tapes constantly and fed off of her TV appearances, insisting that my parents get whatever pay channel she was on for a month at a time. I knew her act by heart. And seeing her tiny little self on that tiny little stage with that big-ass accordion, telling these hilariously irreverent jokes, I couldn't control myself. I just could not stop laughing out loud. Back before it was cool. So, that is my brush with fame. Oh yeah, and my third follower on Twitter was Brittney Spears (the real one) and my tenth was Debbie Gibson (who, it turns out, is a really nice person). Those are my brushes with fame.

How did I get on that?

I made several mixed media pieces today. Experimenting heavily with melting things to other things. Matted against a white or silver (but not mirrored) background, and three of the four pieces would look good. Well, two. The other will be used in another type of project. I think I'm going to cut it down into smaller pieces and matte them as a series instead of as one A4 sized piece. Have to look into frames at the dollar store, they have a whole aisle of them. Doc has gotten me many beautiful ones there that were only a buck. Small, but great for pictures of the cats and such.

Okay, it is now 4am. I have picked out a photo of Vader, and a Photoshop graphic animation tutorial. Doc will be home in 3 hours. So, I have that long to finish it. It needs tweaking before I even start the tutorial, so that sounds about right, with time out for ciggies. Let me just plug in the flat-screen, the best gift my digital art ever got, and I hope I have improved over the last 5 months since I've gotten it.

I've come to realize that all the "album covers" I made for each of my pieces on SoundCloud look like bad 80's rock album covers. I wonder if that was what I was trying to express. Trying to get all of the cliches out in one fell swoop. No one else seems to have picked up on it.

I was brushing up on my self-definitions today and was reminded that Art Brut is the perfect category for me to put myself into. It is the space reserved for the untrained on the fringe, preferably one who has spent a good deal of their lives in psychotic states and mental institutions. I AM Art Brut. I have never in my life fit so perfectly into a category. I have to give up the "post-punk poetry", though. It dates me more than I knew and lends my work a warning of cheese. Not cool. There has to be a poetry equivalent of Art Brut. If anything, I express my psychosis even more in my poetry. My art is my fantasy, come to life. What I want to see, but haven't seen. Like a silver leafed stick in a pot. I have to get these things right if I'm going to keep trying to promote myself. I want to properly and concisely be able to introduce my work as a form, a type, before laying it on people. So if they don't like words and visuals in the raw, they can skip it. They don't have to follow several links to figure it out.

I had to put Chewy's hoodie on him. He was whining at me, after I gave him a bowl of kibble with bacon fat stirred in. He sat in front of me and whined and shivered. Mind you, the a/c was on. So I asked him if he wanted his hoodie, and his tail started wagging at the only word he knew, "hoodie", so I went to the closet and got it out and turned around to call him, but he was right at my side. I said "up up" and he put his front paws on my thigh while I put it on him. He is such a derp. Now he is whining in his sleep. He takes over Doc's couch now when Doc is gone or asleep. So I get assaulted by the demon cats. Boomer comes up until Sai Sai comes around, then he sniffs at her and pokes at her butt with his paw until she hisses at him and gets down. Then Major comes up and muscles Sai Sai to the other side of the couch, across my lap, of course. Then Felix joins us, and he growls at everyone unless I am petting him, so he sits right next to me . . . AUGH!

Okay, time to go to work. I am determined to master this particular Photoshop technique, and I am sick to death of working with pictures of me. So I found a photo of black-as-night Vader that actually has contrast because of the lighting and possessed flash of my camera.

Good night. Unless you're on the East Coast or in the UK, then, good mornin'/afternoon.

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