I think love is the most beautiful thing in the world. And I don't give a fuck cause I have no original ideas. you'de think I was reprimanding myself and revealing my horrible dark side, by saying that, but what I was really saying is it's an ultimatium..Life or Death..and sure maybe I'm being extreme. but you walk around and tell me, things aren't extreme, jesus, I've seen a man jack off to a gap window display, so don't tell me love isn't important.
And maybe you didn't "get" that series of lines, that's okay. Most of them are subtext designed to impress people who know too much about art, all you need to listen to is the twelve percent that contain the words "fuck" and "ass." Because we all need to know about the relevant things, because we're all looking for the complete definition of love. If only we could look up our enclylopedia britiannica and look up love and "Know." But love is not that easy..
They say that cupid loved "my so called life," and when the show was cancelled. Cupid cried and cried and cried. And decided to fuck up all of humanity. And this is why China has trouble with it's birthrate, and arkansas rhymes with date rape, and iraq is iraq, and the fat lipo-sucked out of california could be it's own island.
But this isn't about geography, it's about love. the bane of my exsistence, the reason I hate valentine's day and halloween, which is about ghosts, and I think you know where I'm going here, I'm going to the land of boyfriends of halloween's past, and maybe I've only got five ghosts in this land, but that doesn't mean they don't bring their friends. who are the ghosts of boys who have rejected me, because boys rarely travel alone in this land. Sychler is from this land.
I used to kiss him, while listening to "the Cure's "Just Like Heaven" now I don't see him anymore and that song makes me sad. Why must we associate music with our love lives? I'm not trying to be profound here, I'm just saying music takes me back..way back. And I can't explain the memory process involved in that. Because I'm not a pyschology major.
Maybe I should open up my sensitive side, but really the sensitive side sucks, I've been there. You can only imagine the kind of sweaters they make you wear, love is not fair, war is not fair, and I don't care what anybody has to say about any of that. This is not the direction I wanted to take this, And maybe I shouldn't have said any of this..Woody Allen taught us that marriage is a death trap...I'm almost as old as his girlfriend.
I don't have any answers and I'm looking for help from anyone..because love has me fucked and dying, and maybe that's sentimental, but what's wrong with sentimental?
to self: Fuck You..I'm okay.
You see I can't decide what I need, much less understand what I'm saying...~~~~~~~~~~
Friday, May 14, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
FEMININE FACINATION!!!
My relationship to fashion-and fashion magazines-has always been a love-hate affair. As in, I love them and they make me hate myself. Unlike women's "service" magazines, which get me all contemptous, magazines like Harper's Bazaar and Vogue get me all flustered and insecure and giddy, not unlike the first day of school, when I was scared I might not rate and thrilled to think that I might.
In fact, with their brilliant photography and other worldly models and delicious and highly improbable clothes. Harper's and Vogue are the ultimate bitchy high school. Reading them longingly, I'm reminded of my favorite line from the movie Healther's.." Jealous much?!"
I hope your not expecting to read about how fashion is evil , because while that might have some truth to it. Vogue and Harper's Bazaar are annoying-even infuriating- I can't stay away from them long. And as I cast about why I love them so, I realize I adore them for the simple reason that they acknowldege a universal truth: that fashion far from being all about the enslavement to men is an elaborate performance girls put on for other girls.
Let's face it who really cares if men like your clothes? " looking good!" or " Hey baby!" mean very little coming from the mouth of someone whose idea of attractivness and fashionability is Kim Kardashian. But there's no greater compliment than a sidelong glance from another girl, who has massive style to check yours out..and when she does your hoping she is thinking.," where did she get those boots? that's a kool jacket, wish I had one!" not because your a competitive little bitch. But because getting noticed by a fellow style grrrl...is meaningful. when a woman facinates you, it means something..
Except in those instances when it's dangerous and infuriating. When it's like she is studying you. like in "all about eve." Eve is sinister because she admires margo so much, she wants to become a better margo than margo herself. That is a ultra-uncool move on the the part of girls..remember admiring other girls style...but please don't steal it..create your own...besides spending all your time wanting to be someone else is a waste of who you are...
But however you get it, wherever you get it, don't forget to get your female facination...cause fashion is fashion..style is style..and GRRRLS YOU GOT STYLE!!!
In fact, with their brilliant photography and other worldly models and delicious and highly improbable clothes. Harper's and Vogue are the ultimate bitchy high school. Reading them longingly, I'm reminded of my favorite line from the movie Healther's.." Jealous much?!"
I hope your not expecting to read about how fashion is evil , because while that might have some truth to it. Vogue and Harper's Bazaar are annoying-even infuriating- I can't stay away from them long. And as I cast about why I love them so, I realize I adore them for the simple reason that they acknowldege a universal truth: that fashion far from being all about the enslavement to men is an elaborate performance girls put on for other girls.
Let's face it who really cares if men like your clothes? " looking good!" or " Hey baby!" mean very little coming from the mouth of someone whose idea of attractivness and fashionability is Kim Kardashian. But there's no greater compliment than a sidelong glance from another girl, who has massive style to check yours out..and when she does your hoping she is thinking.," where did she get those boots? that's a kool jacket, wish I had one!" not because your a competitive little bitch. But because getting noticed by a fellow style grrrl...is meaningful. when a woman facinates you, it means something..
Except in those instances when it's dangerous and infuriating. When it's like she is studying you. like in "all about eve." Eve is sinister because she admires margo so much, she wants to become a better margo than margo herself. That is a ultra-uncool move on the the part of girls..remember admiring other girls style...but please don't steal it..create your own...besides spending all your time wanting to be someone else is a waste of who you are...
But however you get it, wherever you get it, don't forget to get your female facination...cause fashion is fashion..style is style..and GRRRLS YOU GOT STYLE!!!
Saturday, May 1, 2010
LOVE IS A MIX TAPE
The mix tape is just another piece of useless junk that "he" left behind. A category that I guess includes me. I should have gone to sleep hours ago, but instead I'm rummaging through old boxes that he left behind..I found this tape with his scribble on the label..SPINABIFFIDA.
I pop it into my boombox on the kitchen counter, pour some coffee, and let the music have it's way with me. It's a date, just me and "him" and some tunes he picked out. We met when I was twenty-one years old. We drank some bourbon and talked about music. We traded stories about bands we liked, and bands we'd seen live. He loved white zombie..so did I. I loved the pixies..he hated the pixies..I told him that night I would make him a mix tape..and he would change his mind on the pixies..and it worked.
Falling in love with " him" is not something you walk away from in one piece. I had no chance. He would wake up in the middle of the night and say things like why don't they have commercials for salt like they do milk? Then he would fall back asleep, and I would lie awake and give thanks for this alien creature beside whom I rested.
We had nothing in common really, except we both loved music. Music brought us together. The whole world got cheated out of "him", I got cheated the least, but still I wanted more of him. I wanted to be his girl, forever and ever. I always pictured us growing old together.
For a while there, I thought "he" was my hero, have you ever had a hero? Someone who says, I think it would be a good idea for you to steal a car and set it on fire then drive it off a cliff, and you say, automatic or standard? It didn't take long for us to get tangled up in each other's hair.
Boys take up a lot of room in your life. I had a lot of room for this one. He had more energy than anybody I'd ever met. He was in love with the world. He was warm and loud and impulsive. One day, he announced he had found the guitar of his dreams at a local junk shop. I said, "you don't even play guitar." He said, " This is the guitar that's gonna teach me."
When I was with him, I thought there was no other place I'd rather be. I could count the places I would not want to be. I've always wanted to see Italy, but I'd rather be here with him. There was no other place I'd rather be than with "him" sipping coffee and watching the leaves fall, listening to that song...
I thought to myself, if he breaks my heart, no matter what the hell he puts me through. I can say it was worth it. Just because of the way he makes me feel at that very moment..nothing better. Out the window is a blur and all I can really hear is hair flapping in the wind, and maybe if we drive fast enough the universe will lose track of us and forget to stick us someone else.....
I pop it into my boombox on the kitchen counter, pour some coffee, and let the music have it's way with me. It's a date, just me and "him" and some tunes he picked out. We met when I was twenty-one years old. We drank some bourbon and talked about music. We traded stories about bands we liked, and bands we'd seen live. He loved white zombie..so did I. I loved the pixies..he hated the pixies..I told him that night I would make him a mix tape..and he would change his mind on the pixies..and it worked.
Falling in love with " him" is not something you walk away from in one piece. I had no chance. He would wake up in the middle of the night and say things like why don't they have commercials for salt like they do milk? Then he would fall back asleep, and I would lie awake and give thanks for this alien creature beside whom I rested.
We had nothing in common really, except we both loved music. Music brought us together. The whole world got cheated out of "him", I got cheated the least, but still I wanted more of him. I wanted to be his girl, forever and ever. I always pictured us growing old together.
For a while there, I thought "he" was my hero, have you ever had a hero? Someone who says, I think it would be a good idea for you to steal a car and set it on fire then drive it off a cliff, and you say, automatic or standard? It didn't take long for us to get tangled up in each other's hair.
Boys take up a lot of room in your life. I had a lot of room for this one. He had more energy than anybody I'd ever met. He was in love with the world. He was warm and loud and impulsive. One day, he announced he had found the guitar of his dreams at a local junk shop. I said, "you don't even play guitar." He said, " This is the guitar that's gonna teach me."
When I was with him, I thought there was no other place I'd rather be. I could count the places I would not want to be. I've always wanted to see Italy, but I'd rather be here with him. There was no other place I'd rather be than with "him" sipping coffee and watching the leaves fall, listening to that song...
I thought to myself, if he breaks my heart, no matter what the hell he puts me through. I can say it was worth it. Just because of the way he makes me feel at that very moment..nothing better. Out the window is a blur and all I can really hear is hair flapping in the wind, and maybe if we drive fast enough the universe will lose track of us and forget to stick us someone else.....
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