Saturday, July 25, 2009

its nice when you happen upon an old friend, and everything that kept them from being great is seemingly gone. so you just be and its like the old days except better because he can ramble off artists instead of south park quotes and politics instead of bong hits and there is nicer wine involved and his hair looks great, and you just feel the love again.

tonight. hearts.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009


no. words. jil sander.

Monday, July 20, 2009

i am a passenger.

I've been recently obsessed with all that is Laurel Canyon in the 1960s and 70s. Namely, all that is british invasion/rock-and-roll/folk/pop-ish of those decades. But not just the music; that is only 10 percent of this time's appeal. For its all about the personalities.

Being a slightly obsessive people watcher/listener/student, I am naturally drawn to this era of womens lib, not for feminist reasons but rather for behavioral reasons. Reading about the "groupies" of the time, reminiscent of the Penny Lane character in Almost Famous, which is arguably based upon girl-about-town (groupie) Pamela des Barres, I have become not only fascinated, but impressed by their drive.

The term "groupie" tends to have a negative connotation, at least in my mind, describing those women who are desperately driven to flirt with rock stars who may or may not remember their name the next day. Being a self proclaimed groupie at times (several occasions come to mind a la mystery jets, klaxons and shout out louds, among others) I understand the appeal of getting to know these untouchable rockstars for a night. Maybe it spills into more nights, facebook messages, chance meetings in downtown speakeasies, or nothing at all, but its certainly an exhilarating experience! We admire these men and women from afar, digesting and chewing and spitting out their music and lyrics; getting to know them brings it to a new level. In my experience, these musicians can be everything you think and more. Sharing late nights and acoustic performances in hotel rooms complete with the requisite booze and drugs, I've gotten the opportunity to meet some amazing people. Some of the most amazing people out there! Taking risks in order to do what they love!

But I've gotten off on a cheese-oid tangent now.

After spending the past week among those who would skip an adventure any day for the security of love and marriage, I began to wonder, what makes me different from them. Why would I, hands down, no question choose a fleeting night of amazing conversation, of possible let down or hazy thoughtfulness in lieu of security. Pamela des Barres, head groupie of the 60s and 70s, and paramour to the top men of the era (yes, I'm talking the likes of Jimmy Page, Mick Jagger, members of the Byrds, and probably any notable musician of the time), sought this kind of security in a seemingly backward way.

She is quoted saying "The other factor was that I was growing up in the Sixties. I had watched my Mom be the Fifties Mom, the slave Mom...this was the era of free love and women's lib. I wanted to be the Fifties Mom, the slave Mom. I wanted to really fall in love one day. But I believed it would be liberating and pleasurable in the meantime to have sex and to fall 1/2in love one have sex whenever I wanted it - like men."

She eventually married one of these untouchables, had a child with him, and is now separated from him. She's an extreme case, and it seems she has yet to become this head-over-heels-in-love, ring-on-your-finger-forever, slave-mom she described, but maybe she never wanted it for herself. I'm assuming a lot here, but I wonder if we have to choose an extreme. A life of crazy one night stands, or a life of stability and dinner on the table.

I think we are missing out by choosing one over the other. By choosing one, we become passenger seat drivers. We dwell upon what we are gaining or missing out on, therefore losing control of the wheel, giving up the drivers seat, and drifting towards the middle of nowhere.

phillip lim resort 10

i never looked at this in june
of course i like it!

uh how weird is it that i typed 10. as in 2010. yeah.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

a week away puts things in perspective. or not.
thick accents and y'alls and marriage and babies, thank god i'm away from it 350 out of 365ish.

days of sun and sea breezes and nights of humid beer...pong? and life conversations and talks of others' long distance relationships, their 6 month old loves

realizations of addictions to... life? texts and instant messages, and where does this leave me? where it take us? its all unknown but its all clear to me now.

finished novels and new ones begun, finished crushes and new ones in the works its all a blur and all a memory i want to forget.

alone is the way i prefer these days, everything else tends to be a let down. so ill sit here bingeing on lady gaga to forget about all of the things I have to do and the people I'm supposed to see and the ones I can't seem to forget about.

it's sort of a mess in my head that I don't care to clean up right now.

Friday, July 10, 2009

i was living in some dream world where i thought it would be okay, but its not okay!
its never okay, but its supposed to be okay!

old age or serenity or something is supposed to make it all okay but i dont want to wait!

seeing him and seeing them, i just don't know what to say anymore except,

im different.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

viva la couture.

christian dior fall couture.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

brief encounters

It started with a chance meeting while "out on the town" in this city that sucks away my sleep on a nightly basis. On a night when the bars and parties closed their doors and no one was ready for it to end, not ready for real life to start again the next morning. When the cigarettes begin to run out and the booze is tapped from hidden cabinets where it seemed to wait on reserve for a night like this.

I feel most alive on these nights. I feel most in control, most out of control, my heart beating faster as I laugh and forget about my tangled hair and disappearing makeup as the sun rises on the most beautiful of terraces in a beautiful city.

I entered the compound in the hills for a night; an alternate universe I knew would be ephemeral. So I soaked it in, trying to remember names, faces and the architecture as best I could. Everyone was interesting; everyone was a character working towards something, but living to interact with everyone around them. To me, they exist only to tell their stories, however outlandish and exaggerated they may be.