stuff i'm reading #3

$ the may/june issue of lodown magazine
$ the september 2009 issue of harper's bazaar
$ the september 2009 issue of nylon guys
$ the august 22nd-28th issue of the economist
$ paul schmidt, arthur rimbaud: complete works
$ k.g. pontus hulten, "the machine as seen at the end of the mechanical age" exhibit catalogue
$ philip gefter, photography after frank

all i want to eat is salad and i'm really tired of every other girl in the world wearing daisy by marc jacobs perfume.

how old is that? old enough

i like how fuck yeah fest has $65 v.i.p. tickets but the official website doesn't say what makes it v.i.p. at all. probably a nice little v.i.p. stamp on your wristband.

it was 95 degrees at one point today. 95 DEGREES. shit got real and i'm not down.

better off on twitter

god can the rise of theodore roosevelt just come out already

good things lately:
+ black helmut lang jeans
+ l'occitane lip balm
+ honey's kettle's "designer salad"
+ new seasons of mad men and project runway starting

bad things lately:
- getting money stolen at a party
- cloudy and hot days (fucking gross)
- guys who won't leave me alone
- little miss perfect on lifetime

this weekend is sunset junction and i'm totally stoked to get dwasted and heat stroke.

the more you know

to those considering purchasing the outlaw bible of american poetry, a word: don't. i'm considering writing off anthologies all together. feels a bit like cheating, doesn't it?

raaaaaaant

is it too much to ask that employees of restaurants know their menu? i hate having being that bitch that asks, "are you sure?" because, after all, i don't work there. it seems like the majority of servers and cashiers have no idea what they're doing and this is why i end up paying double what my meal would usually cost way too often. i hate being rude to servers and insulting them but most servers' apparent lack of knowledge about the shit they are serving means that's what i'm going to have to do.

and that's how you spell chicken

last night cheyne & i went to a "picking party" - basically a bunch of people playing the guitar, piano, mandolin, banjo, fiddle, washboard, etc. in jake's living room. it was great. the best moment of the night, though, was at three in the morning when four or five of us were sitting around, half-asleep and full-drunk, listening to this guy play perhaps the most beautiful rendition of "guns of brixton" i have ever heard.

five in the morning is weird

i just woke up to vh1's early-morning video program jump start, more specifically to a segment where lil mama (of "lipgloss" fame) declared that she was "definitely a beatles fan" (some seriously subversive shit) which led to a beatles "music video" that was straight up just itunes visualizer. whattttt

ballad of a dead soldier

last night i went to a party that was full of hippies AND I HAD A GOOD TIME. there was even a painted schoolbus and people making sushi rolls. wtf is this summer?

today i watched a program about black panthers and all i kept thinking about were their outfits. how fucking great did they look? that sounds totally fucked up and irreverant but honestly what the fuck do you expect? all i think about anymore are clothes and burritos.

speaking of black panthers tupac listened to kate bush in high school. siiiiiiiiiiick.

no hope kids

"nor again must we in all matters alike demand an explanation of the reason why things are what they are; in some cases it is enough if the fact that they are so is satisfactorily established."

little-known fact: i have always kept a notebook of some kind. i love writing things down. they're usually some combination of girlish diary squealings, drawings (read: stick figures), and passages from works i like. i like going through them every once in a while to remind myself of queer i was and how life is twenty million times better now. i re-discovered that quote this morning in a composition notebook from 11th and 12th grades and i've been thinking about it ever since. also lol at reading aristotle in high school. to put that into perspective, i was reading about ethics while ditching french class, smoking weed, and illegally driving cars full of kids to cafe brazil. fucking hilarious.

also, i bought a pamphlet of william butler yeats' poetry - the wild swans at coole - and there are so many fucking typos. it's kind of appalling. i'm pretty sure wby would be pissed.

man at his best

something i've learned this summer: old latino guys really like kissing my hand

picture me rollin'

just got 'em

from Journey to the End of the Night by Louis-Ferdinand Céline

"When, grown older, we look back on the selfishness of the people who've been mixed up with our lives, we see it undeniably for what it was, as hard as steel or platinum and a lot more durable than time itself.

"As long as we're young, we manage to find excuses for the stoniest indifference, the most blatant caddishness, we put them down to emotional eccentricity or some sort of romantic inexperience. But later on, when life shows us how much cunning, cruelty, and malice are required just to keep the body at ninety-eight point six, we catch on, we know the score, we begin to understand how much swinishness it takes to make up a past. Just take a close look at yourself and the degree of rottenness you've come to. There's no mystery about it, no more room for fairy tales; if you've lived this long, it's because you've squashed any poetry you had in you. Life is keeping body and soul together."

damn.

karaoke night

the best faces

stuff i'm reading #2

$ waxpoetics no. 36: the brazil issue
$ the august 10th & 17th 2009 issue of the new yorker
$ louis-ferdinand celine, journey to the end of the night
$ the august 1st-7th 2009 issue of the economist
$ the september 2009 issue of saveur
$ the july/august 2009 issue of the art newspaper
$ victoria newhouse, art and the power of placement

how perfect is that last book for me? i nearly went into cardiac arrest when i found it.

from "A Guide to Summer Sun Protection" in the August 10th & 17th, 2009 issue of The New Yorker

"SPF 175 - Ever wanted to have unprotected sex with a prostitute in Haiti? Don't answer. Doesn't matter. The point is with SPF 175 that's now an option."

can i get a "fuck yeah!" fist pump?

broadcast and atlas sound are playing at the troubadour november 4th holy fucking shit

her stories are boring and stuff

i'm listening to turn on the bright lights and ninth grading all over the fucking place

it's great

jk y'all

actually, fuck a wordpress. i miss blogger.