Zane Lowe vs Jared Leto on BBC Radio 1, in London 21st March 2013
₪ ø lll ·o.
Visualizzazione post con etichetta 30secondstomars. Mostra tutti i post
Visualizzazione post con etichetta 30secondstomars. Mostra tutti i post
21 mar 2013
18 mar 2013
Where is the Argus Apocraphex?
30 Seconds to Mars — Band Bio, Trouble Bunch Music (2003)
This biography taunts you with its nakedness and you grind your teeth together as it pleads with you to fill in the blanks. And what it feels like is not unlike before the moment a small child contorts his face and is about to scream for the candy at the register. And what it sounds like is the whizzing of air right before the strap hits your hand.
Why are you here? Are you listening? Can you hear what I am saying?
The tension rises in and behind your occipital lobes and the blood rushes to paint your cheeks. Red is the color, the headache is in the mail and the aspirin sits, loaded in your hand like a gun at your hip.
I can’t stand this.
Look at the red, red changes in the sky. You want to look away but you just can’t bring yourself to do it can you punk?
Why?
Because when it comes down to it, this gimme gimme society of ours is missing something magical isn’t it? Something so sexy and captivating that it doesn’t have to sport a Prada handbag to prove anything to anyone. It’s called mystery.
What’s with the fascination with the echelon?
This is a gift. This is the part of the bio where you get angry, claw at your screen and take matters into your own hands and this is the part where you shift uncomfortably in your Staples brand office chair because wouldn’t you know it, where it is worn out, is the exact spot where the padding doesn’t meet your spine.
Only $49.99 what a steal.
This is where you write the damn thing yourself. Where you open your handy dandy program and voraciously begin to change the entire she-bang, the whole enchilada. Bob Ezrin doesn’t have creative control, you do.
Hold the onions.
This feeling is not unlike a canis lupus tearing the meat clear off the bones of its prey. And it’s not unlike pouring the entire bottle of bleach in the load to get at the stains. It must fall apart before it can be fixed. You smash the letters into the keypad. You are livid and you smell of a sickly sweet combination of testosterone and sweat. This is a monstrosity; you pull at your hair.
What’s that word? Trick…trich-oh-till-o-mania something.
Your underwear are in a bunch, you missed the exit and there is no turning back now, so you delete this line.
And this one.
And this one.
And so on.
And so on.
The punctuation was all wrong anyway.
And so on.
Ad libitum.
You hear the voices in your head.
G’head, knock yourself out kid. Write the fucking biography.
Later you can print it, frame it and treasure it.
Yes!
More voices?
You wonder to yourself how long you have been hearing those voices but you let it go because the no vacancy sign is lit and because this, this will be an eternal keepsake of the special moment in time when you chose to swim against conformity. And this will be that moment when you chose to use something that very few people still know how to access.
It’s called imagination kids. Ain’t it grand?
Maybe our hero is a banana-skin-smoking park ranger, working at a naughty nudist colony in Uganda who periodically ships knock-off bottles of crystal for extra bling to MTV sets in the good old US of A for all the pretty, pretty, disillusioned people because “nice work if you can get it.” A ranger parading around in only a hat, who over the years has developed an unnatural fascination with bubble wrap and those little static electricity-charged Styrofoam S’s. Or maybe, just maybe, he used to model bikinis for some obscure, fetish driven, hairy-backed porn website and the real shocker is that you were in a couple of those glossies.
Say cheese.
You can go on kidding yourself but the truth of the matter is, Mom’s going to recognize you on the pop-up whilst surfing for online bargains any day now.
Oh the shame of it!
You breathe through your eyelids.
Get a grip on yourself man.
You align your yin with your yang and let your imagination soar—because when it comes down to it, the sky’s the limit baby. The sky’s the limit.
Juicy fruit is gonna move you. Chews so soft it gets right through you?
You take a good look around and smile to yourself with the sudden realization that all of this has the potential to be as freeing as Disney intended Willy to be. If only you’d allow yourself the luxury of savoring a moment, you could have a whale of a time.
Take a sniff. Pull it out. The taste is going to move you when you pop it in your mouth.
You don’t want to run. You don’t want to run.
The taste, the taste, the taste is gonna move you.
Dot. Dot. Dot.
It begins now. Write it.
You can finish the dishes after you finish up here. That’s the good news and the sauce they serve with it is called no one will hold any of this against you.
This is insanity.
Maybe so, but I’m not writing it, you are.
Why are you here? Are you listening? Can you hear what I am saying?
The tension rises in and behind your occipital lobes and the blood rushes to paint your cheeks. Red is the color, the headache is in the mail and the aspirin sits, loaded in your hand like a gun at your hip.
I can’t stand this.
Look at the red, red changes in the sky. You want to look away but you just can’t bring yourself to do it can you punk?
Why?
Because when it comes down to it, this gimme gimme society of ours is missing something magical isn’t it? Something so sexy and captivating that it doesn’t have to sport a Prada handbag to prove anything to anyone. It’s called mystery.
What’s with the fascination with the echelon?
This is a gift. This is the part of the bio where you get angry, claw at your screen and take matters into your own hands and this is the part where you shift uncomfortably in your Staples brand office chair because wouldn’t you know it, where it is worn out, is the exact spot where the padding doesn’t meet your spine.
Only $49.99 what a steal.
This is where you write the damn thing yourself. Where you open your handy dandy program and voraciously begin to change the entire she-bang, the whole enchilada. Bob Ezrin doesn’t have creative control, you do.
Hold the onions.
This feeling is not unlike a canis lupus tearing the meat clear off the bones of its prey. And it’s not unlike pouring the entire bottle of bleach in the load to get at the stains. It must fall apart before it can be fixed. You smash the letters into the keypad. You are livid and you smell of a sickly sweet combination of testosterone and sweat. This is a monstrosity; you pull at your hair.
What’s that word? Trick…trich-oh-till-o-mania something.
Your underwear are in a bunch, you missed the exit and there is no turning back now, so you delete this line.
And this one.
And this one.
And so on.
And so on.
The punctuation was all wrong anyway.
And so on.
Ad libitum.
You hear the voices in your head.
G’head, knock yourself out kid. Write the fucking biography.
Later you can print it, frame it and treasure it.
Yes!
More voices?
You wonder to yourself how long you have been hearing those voices but you let it go because the no vacancy sign is lit and because this, this will be an eternal keepsake of the special moment in time when you chose to swim against conformity. And this will be that moment when you chose to use something that very few people still know how to access.
It’s called imagination kids. Ain’t it grand?
Maybe our hero is a banana-skin-smoking park ranger, working at a naughty nudist colony in Uganda who periodically ships knock-off bottles of crystal for extra bling to MTV sets in the good old US of A for all the pretty, pretty, disillusioned people because “nice work if you can get it.” A ranger parading around in only a hat, who over the years has developed an unnatural fascination with bubble wrap and those little static electricity-charged Styrofoam S’s. Or maybe, just maybe, he used to model bikinis for some obscure, fetish driven, hairy-backed porn website and the real shocker is that you were in a couple of those glossies.
Say cheese.
You can go on kidding yourself but the truth of the matter is, Mom’s going to recognize you on the pop-up whilst surfing for online bargains any day now.
Oh the shame of it!
You breathe through your eyelids.
Get a grip on yourself man.
You align your yin with your yang and let your imagination soar—because when it comes down to it, the sky’s the limit baby. The sky’s the limit.
Juicy fruit is gonna move you. Chews so soft it gets right through you?
You take a good look around and smile to yourself with the sudden realization that all of this has the potential to be as freeing as Disney intended Willy to be. If only you’d allow yourself the luxury of savoring a moment, you could have a whale of a time.
Take a sniff. Pull it out. The taste is going to move you when you pop it in your mouth.
You don’t want to run. You don’t want to run.
The taste, the taste, the taste is gonna move you.
Dot. Dot. Dot.
It begins now. Write it.
You can finish the dishes after you finish up here. That’s the good news and the sauce they serve with it is called no one will hold any of this against you.
This is insanity.
Maybe so, but I’m not writing it, you are.
16 mar 2013
7 mar 2013
MARS on FuseTv ♥
5 Musicians With a Serious Space Fetish
March 6, 2013
Ground control to 30 Seconds to Mars: you aren't the only ones with an interplanetary problem.
When 30 Seconds to Mars decided to debut a single from their first album in four years from the international space station,
not only did it mark a comeback for the band, it brought space back
into the hearts and minds of many. Well, maybe that’s a stretch--but
with the 2011 closing of the NASA shuttle program, it was good to hear
about the great beyond in the press again. Thus, in honor of outer
space and musicians, Fuse has compiled a list of some of the most famous Martians, astronauts, and space moguls to ever rule the airwaves.
20 feb 2013
30 Seconds to Mars’ New Album Set to Come Out Next Summer
February 20, 2013
American band 30 Seconds to Mars have worked hard on a new album despite the hiatus they had called a year ago. The result? We’ll be able to hear the new album next summer, August 13 2013 according to lead singer Jared Leto. Formed in 1998, the band released their last CD, This Is War, in 2009. Who’s excited for the new material?
19 feb 2013
Jared on Socialite Life ♥
The Best Celebrity Twitter Pictures Of The Week – February 17, 2013
February 17th, 2013
To start things off, my favorite TwitPic of the week! Jared Leto and McKayla Maroney aren't even impressed with how cool they are together!
"Me + @McKaylaMaroney are unimpressed"
Guys! Guys! Guys! It’s TwitPic Sunday!
So, did we ever decide how to spell TwitPic? One word? Two words? You know what, not important right now. What is important right now is all of the awesomeness that Twitter delivered this week!
It’s always a fun Twitter gallery when there’s been an awards show, and just in case you can’t remember that far back, just one week ago was the Grammys! So there’s loads of goodies in TwitPic land from that including Kelly Clarkson and Taylor Swift both being super stoked about winning. But the Grammys weren’t the only fun this this week!
And I’m not just talking about Jared Leto and McKayla Maroney being unimpressed. It was Valentine’s Day! And you know what that means! Loads of cute photos from your favorite celebs. I’m loving the one of Adam Lambert, even though it’s all grainy. And the one with Selena Gomez and hearts is pretty cute too.
Launch the gallery to check out all the best TwitPics from this past week. Did your favorite celebrity make this week’s cut? Let us know and don’t forget to tell us which celebrities you love most on Twitter in the comments!
6 feb 2013
Jared news on web ♥
Jared Leto Is Searching For Albinos On Twitter
02.06.13
When we last checked in on 30 Seconds to Mars frontman Jordan Catalano, he was starving himself because he’s an awful but dedicated thespian, in addition to fronting a glam rock band and being a douchebag. So what is that guy from Requiem for a Dream up to now? Looking for albinos on Twitter, naturally!
Maybe the guy who once tried to start a fight with the Hobbit for not liking his shitty band should just look in the mirror to find the albino he’s seeking…
Jared Leto Seeks ‘Albinos’ on Twitter for What Is Bound to Be an Award-Winning Music Video
By 1:24pm
Jared Leto, seminal ’90s crush who enjoys rubbing elbows with the international tech elite, has an urgent request for his Twitter followers. The 30 Seconds to Mars frontman is shooting a new music video, and he desperately needs “albinos” for it.
Apparently Mr. Leto never read up on Albinism etiquette, or else he would’ve known that calling someone an “Albino” is generally considered rather unfriendly.
Are you albino? Then I want you in my video. Email: musicvideocasting2013@gmail.com
— JARED LETO (@JaredLeto) February 6, 2013
Don’t worry if you don’t meet that requirement, though. If you still want to be in a music video created by a person whose most lasting claim to fame is playing a stupid hottie in a short-lived MTV series, Mr. Leto is also searching for “raver kids in LA with light tricks or who can dance.”
Oh shit, this video is gonna be AWESOME.
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