tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81085134867669940062024-03-13T10:11:52.917-07:00if i remember i'm a liarLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.comBlogger344125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-50319301453771500972011-05-17T23:48:00.000-07:002011-05-18T01:31:03.535-07:00relocating<a href="http://totheharbormaster.blogspot.com"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TdNzd5Gm_sI/AAAAAAAAAok/dPnXEge_2gk/Picture%208.png"></a><blockquote>deuces, loureedindeed. click through for totheharbormaster.<br /><br />(don't mind the weird polish title, my new blog is ~in transition~)</blockquote>Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-38504226741113237702011-05-17T00:06:00.000-07:002011-05-17T00:13:48.982-07:00μελαγχολία<iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/C7v2SUSphqk?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />nina simone covering hall & oates' "rich girl"Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-48164565171443430392011-05-16T18:18:00.000-07:002011-05-16T18:20:25.650-07:00james arthur, "the land of nod"Growing up, I barely knew the Bible, but read<br />and reread the part when Cain drifted east<br />or was drawn that way, into a place of desolation,<br />the land of Nod, there to begin, with a wife<br /><br />of unknown origin, another race of men,<br />under the mark of God. As a boy, I thought Nod<br />would be a place where the blue scillas<br />would bloom gray, a country of the rack and screw,<br /><br />the serrated sword, where the very serving cups<br />were bone. As a grown man, I’ve heard that Nod<br />never was a nation—of Cain’s offspring, or anyone—<br />but a mistranslation of “wander,” so Cain<br /><br />could go wherever, and be in Nod. Far more<br />than in God, I believe in Cain, who destroyed<br />his own brother, and therefore in any city<br />could have his wish, and be alone.<br /><br /><sub>from the may 2011 issue of <span style="font-style:italic;">poetry</span></sub>Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-43987608675809207872011-04-30T16:21:00.000-07:002011-04-30T16:39:19.626-07:00can we just talk about the end of "all about u" by 2pac when snoop dogg's talking because it's the funniest thingI'm tellin ya, it's the same ol' shit<br />I mean.. god damn, youknowhatI'msayin?<br />I'm sittin back, watchin' Montell Jordan video<br />I see the same bitch, who was in, my homeboy Nate Dogg video<br />Then I flip the channel<br />I'm checkin out my homeboy 2Pac video<br />I see the same bitch that was in my video, yanahmsayin?<br />And then yanahmsayin what make that even mo' fucked up<br />I'm watchin a Million Man March<br />And I see the same bitch, on the Million Man March<br />That was in, the homeboy Warren G video!<br />I mean, damn, everywhere I look, everywhere I go<br />I see the same ho<br />Don't get mad, I'm only bein' real<br />Yeah<br /><br />p.s.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6mzlge4CiBY/Tbycl45pxzI/AAAAAAAAAmU/pnPUYPnjvbc/s1600/mmmarchnoon.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6mzlge4CiBY/Tbycl45pxzI/AAAAAAAAAmU/pnPUYPnjvbc/s400/mmmarchnoon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601524211285346098" /></a><br /><br />picture me lollin'Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-41473178664337423832011-04-28T16:47:00.000-07:002011-04-28T16:48:00.675-07:00barbarossa<iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Q-tKCv_B8jU?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />barbara lewis, "hello stranger"Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-10763927335593930272011-04-27T18:46:00.000-07:002011-04-27T19:01:23.820-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AlUWBZ41o7Q/TbjJz0djh2I/AAAAAAAAAmA/0BdZStkOS1Q/s1600/Picture%2B3.png"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 358px; height: 230px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AlUWBZ41o7Q/TbjJz0djh2I/AAAAAAAAAmA/0BdZStkOS1Q/s400/Picture%2B3.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600448028728330082" /></a><br /><sub>LOL</sub><br /><br />hey so i know a lot of you are experiencing warm weather (77 degrees in los angeles today) and because of this you need to get a slurpee, specifically a mix of blue lightning blast, pina colada and a liiiiitle bit of fanta cherry. i had this today and all of a sudden i dgaf about the heat, which obviously means that there's valium in it or something (so maybe don't get it if you're sober?)Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-46094766356758102812011-04-27T13:07:00.000-07:002011-04-27T14:32:14.207-07:00rainer maria rilke, "for the sake of a single poem"<blockquote>...Ah, poems amount to so little when you write them too early in your life. You ought to wait and gather sense and sweetness for a whole lifetime, and a long one if possible, and then, at the very end, you might perhaps be able to write ten good lines. For poems are not, as people think, simply emotions (one has emotions early enough) - they are experiences. For the sake of a single poem, you must see many cities, many people and Things, you must understand animals, must feel how birds fly, and know the gesture which small flowers make when they open in the morning. You must be able to think back to streets in unknown neighborhoods, to unexpected encounters, and to partings you had long seen coming; to days of childhood whose mystery is still unexplained, to parents whom you had to hurt when they brought in a joy and you didn't pick it up (it was a joy meant for somebody else); to childhood illnesses that began so strangely with so many profound and difficult transformations, to days in quiet restrained rooms and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, but it is still not enough to be able to think of all that. You must have memories of many nights of love, each one different from all the others, memories of women screaming in labor, and of light, pale, sleeping girls who have just given birth and are closing again. But you must also have been beside the dying, must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open windows and the scattered noises. And it is not yet enough to have memories. You must be able to forget them when they are many, and you must have the immense patience to wait until they return. For the memories themselves are not important. Only when they have changed into our very blood, into glance and gesture, and are nameless, no longer to be distinguished from ourselves only then can it happen that in some very rare hour the first word of a poem arises in their midst and goes forth from them.</blockquote>okay rilke, but...memories of women screaming in labor? WHY<br /><br />i've been brushing up on mid-to-late 19th century european history like it's my job (will read bismarck speeches for <s>food</s> cigarettes). after i finish this new bismarck biography i want to read a biography of benjamin disraeli, former british prime minister, mostly because him being a jewish poet statesman is both really weird and really awesome to me. there are so many biographies on my "to read" list. in <span style="font-style:italic;">contarini fleming</span>, disraeli advises one to read "nothing but biography, for that is life without theory." after my adorno/agamben/barthes binge (still going on btw), it feels good to get back to biography.<br /><br />last night i watched an episode of <span style="font-style:italic;">daria</span> ("lane miserables") and during the scene where daria's watching trent leave for his date "everlong" by foo fighters started to play and now i can't stop listening to it. when i listen to it i feel like i should be wearing flannel and complaining about how my parents totally suck while spending their money at the mall and drawing <a href="http://littlewolfblog.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/ess_step5.jpg?w=280&h=431">that weird "s"</a> in my notebook a million times. all while wondering, of course, "if everything could feel this real forever." or does that come later, post-adolescence? so deep, i know.<br /><br />also someone on a rap forum i just found (lol) called dylan thomas a sell-out. DON'T HATE THE PLAYER HATE THE GAMELondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-8276644865571580442011-04-24T19:20:00.000-07:002011-04-24T19:24:55.872-07:00you shall above all things be glad and youngthe best thing about this weekend was salsa dancing at eight in the morning to "don't you worry 'bout a thing" with a guy who quoted rimbaud and neruda to (at?) meLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-72727154764557558692011-04-17T22:29:00.000-07:002011-04-22T02:59:13.599-07:00Wait thirty years, & then look out over the earth!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TaPjoF70kFI/AAAAAAAAAkg/QUOquzQf4Z8/Another%20one%20by%20Kip%20Dawkins%20from%20the%20set%20I%26%238217%3Bve%20previously%20posted%20photos%20from.%20Amazing.jpeg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 646px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TaPjoF70kFI/AAAAAAAAAkg/QUOquzQf4Z8/Another%20one%20by%20Kip%20Dawkins%20from%20the%20set%20I%26%238217%3Bve%20previously%20posted%20photos%20from.%20Amazing.jpeg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><sub>g.g. allin getting his swerve on</sub><br /><br />something that bummed me out (<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/17/fashion/17Cultural.html?_r=1&ref=fashion">a new york times article</a> about middle-aged ladies who don't want to have sex with their husbands a.k.a. my future as a woman or so every publication ever likes to tell me [dear god NO]) and something that cheered me up (<a href="http://www.lettersofnote.com/2011/04/what-great-births-you-have-witnessed.html">mark twain's letter to walt whitman</a> in celebration of whitman's 70th birthday <span style="font-style:italic;">and</span> human achievement).<br /><br />five songs i've been really into lately which all happen to be by ladies/lady-fronted bands:<br />1. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HqL63rJNmUs">the tammys, "gypsy"</a> (omg the photo for this track, I AM SO SORRY)<br />2. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0hF9qfu2lo">shannon and the clams, "you will always bring me flowers"</a><br />3. marine girls, "tonight?" (impossible to find on youtube, sorry)<br />4. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5clkFgVhmj4">lil' kim, "queen bitch"</a><br />5. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SG_Nk5cmEs">the waitresses, "pussy strut"</a><br /><br />there's a line in lil' kim's "queen bitch" that i find myself taken aback by whenever i hear it: "got buffoons eatin' my pussy while i watch cartoons." what about when some go-gurt commercial featuring dancing tweens comes on (as it inevitably will)? FUCK NO.<br /><br />also hey dad if you're reading this please stopLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-31487336383518867512011-04-10T17:39:00.000-07:002011-04-10T17:44:29.811-07:00one of the many odd things that happened this weekendas i sat at the bus stop friday night, feeling incredibly frustrated and alone, a man came up to me and asked if i was "working or just waiting for the bus." i told him that i was just waiting, and then it hit me - <span style="font-style:italic;">this dude thinks i'm a prostitute</span>. he went on to say that if i was selling, he was buying and that he had a place nearby. i smiled and shook my head. eventually he started to cross the street, then stopped, and jogged back to give me a bus token - "i bus all the time but you can have this." i took it, thanked him, and he walked back across the street and turned the corner.Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-26608038037057308942011-03-13T17:11:00.000-07:002011-03-13T17:39:17.063-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jzlgAFN870w/TX1dOsQ6TSI/AAAAAAAAAgE/kUN_OeBVp5k/s1600/History%2Bof%2BEurope%253A%2BBerlin%252C%2Bcirca%2B1940.jpeg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jzlgAFN870w/TX1dOsQ6TSI/AAAAAAAAAgE/kUN_OeBVp5k/s400/History%2Bof%2BEurope%253A%2BBerlin%252C%2Bcirca%2B1940.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583721619990924578" /></a><br /><sub>hitler performing various gesticulations commonly employed during his speeches in front of personal photographer heinrich hoffmann</sub><br /><br />"if an illusion creates the correct reaction, does it matter how much artifice and fakery went into creating it? does any artifice and fakery automatically become genuine the moment it provokes a genuine reaction?"<br />- from <a href="http://thisrecording.com/today/2011/3/3/in-which-i-wanna-live-in-los-angeles-but-not-the-one-in-los.html">"hamlet extreme"</a> by molly lambertLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-29064329739136245522011-02-19T11:36:00.000-08:002011-02-19T23:10:19.600-08:00THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD VIA SONG<iframe title="YouTube video player" width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/OMc1xNBRiPc?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />SHE MADE US DRINKS<br />TO DRINK<br />WE DRUNK 'EM<br />GOT DRUNKLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-12377547361837509942011-02-16T11:58:00.000-08:002011-02-16T13:10:42.705-08:00we fought so hard against the small things that we became small ourselveslast night i did some night-biking to barnes & noble to buy theodor adorno's <span style="font-style:italic;">aesthetic theory</span>. i couldn't find it so instead i bought his <span style="font-style:italic;">minima moralia: reflections from damaged life</span> (even though <a href="http://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/adorno/1951/mm/index.htm">i found the full text of it online</a> last week). i'm excited to start it. what i got from descriptions and some light skimming is that it's basically a debbie downer response to aristotle's <span style="font-style:italic;">nicomachean ethics</span>, which interests me. it seems that all i read anymore is theory, philosophy, and poetry. i didn't do the whole "youthful idealism" thing in high school so i guess i'm doing that now.<br /><br />speaking of idealism can we take a minute to acknowledge echo park boyz and their fucking byronic hero complexes. <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=I%20see%20you&defid=3826436">i see y'all</a>.<br /><br />anyway i want this coat:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ihlkk9Ed9dY/TVw77Xsk7pI/AAAAAAAAAfg/TOE_rfgx9P8/s1600/tumblr_lgf118PMLj1qzezj5.jpeg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ihlkk9Ed9dY/TVw77Xsk7pI/AAAAAAAAAfg/TOE_rfgx9P8/s400/tumblr_lgf118PMLj1qzezj5.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574396329937137298" /></a>Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-25255594185311404202011-02-14T19:13:00.000-08:002011-02-14T19:15:21.822-08:00all my time i spend it with you now<iframe title="YouTube video player" width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/NwP2R1YEjzg?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />i've spent a lot of time feeling indifferent towards grizzly bear but this weekend i listened to this at sunrise, in my underwear, while smoking cigarettes and drinking a forty and it was the absolute best thingLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-70349326226319119392011-02-06T13:30:00.000-08:002011-02-06T13:39:59.658-08:00a process of individual museumification<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TU8S7PZ_XRI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/3R68sEUfE5w/s1600/Roi%2BVaara%252C%2BArtist%2526%25238217%253Bs%2BDilemma%252C1997.jpeg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TU8S7PZ_XRI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/3R68sEUfE5w/s400/Roi%2BVaara%252C%2BArtist%2526%25238217%253Bs%2BDilemma%252C1997.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570692073037716754" /></a><br />roi vaara, <span style="font-style:italic;">the artist's dilemma</span>, 1997<br /><br />"the secret story is the one we'll never know, although we're living it from day to day, thinking we're alive, thinking we've got it all under control and the stuff we overlook doesn't matter. but every damn thing matters! it's just that we don't realize. we tell ourselves that art runs on one track and life, our lives, on another, we don't even realize that's a lie."<br />from "dentist" in <span style="font-style:italic;">last evenings on earth</span> by roberto bolaño<br /><br />also, for those interested, i found <a href="http://launiversidaddesconocida.wordpress.com/2010/05/12/first-infrarealist-manifesto-2/#more-34">a translation of "the first infrarealist manifesto"</a> (infrarealism was a poetry movement started by bolaño in mexico city during the 70s). rimbaud, come home!Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-53781934207563309962011-01-31T09:58:00.000-08:002011-01-31T12:37:12.896-08:00no more naked popcorn<iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="560" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DDx-YAjpa9E?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><br />"chick music"<br /><br />i want everyone to know that i texted in that last post. TECHNOLOGY but also SOCIAL MEDIA REFERENCES.<br /><br />one surefire way to know that i will dislike someone is when he or she (usually he) says, "i only listen to <span style="font-style:italic;">real</span> hip-hop." often the person will go on to complain about the only good rap is old rap, how commercial and vapid hip-hop is now, and <a href="http://images.memegenerator.net/Insanity-Wolf/ImageMacro/2716405/Omg-based-god-You-can-fuck-my-bitch.jpg">how lil b fucked their bitch</a>, all while i'm trying not to roll my eyes and/or throw my drink in their face like i'm on a vh1 reality show. are you fucking serious? and what the fuck is "real hip-hop?" i've found that these people are either <a href="http://www.paidduesfestival.com/">paid dudes festival</a>-attending backpack rap enthusiasts ("i only listen to immortal technique, atmosphere, jedi mind tricks, aesop rock, etc.") or people who don't listen to hip-hop at all except for <span style="font-style:italic;">enter the wu-tang (36 chambers)</span> and whatever biggie songs ratatat remixed. that's some deluded "return to normalcy"-type shit. i guess i just get annoyed with any kind of pining for "the way things used to be." hindsight is supposed to be 20/20 but i think the rose-colored glasses of nostalgia fuck up the acuity of vision in most instances. i'm not saying i don't get caught up in the snarls of nostalgia, because i do - often, in fact - but i always try to remember that however good things "back then" seemed, it probably wasn't all that bomb.<br /><br />which brings me to my personal lexicon crisis. kurt brought up my usage of the word "bomb" the other day and now whenever i say that something is or is not "bomb" i get self-conscious. do i really say it enough to where it's noticeable? like, if someone was making fun of me would it include frequent usage of the word "bomb?" geoff says yes. i'm feeling very slang 2000 and it's a problem.<br /><br />brb going to find the <a href="http://www.ravematch.com/">raver love of my life</a> but first i'd like to tell you that daytime temperatures have once again dipped below 70 degrees and THIS BITCH is going to comfortably all-black everything the fuck out of this dayLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-64877225768154818762011-01-31T00:19:00.001-08:002011-01-31T00:19:29.061-08:00i just made a sandwich while drunk. it didn't take an hour, i'm pretty sure i put all of the condiments away, AND i'm blogging about it. #iguessthisisgrowingupLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-53483574911404493602011-01-26T09:59:00.000-08:002011-01-26T12:03:44.676-08:00from the beretta puttin' all the holes in ya sweataoh my god, yoga - how could i forget? i don't consider myself concerned with either fitness (i like to temper long bike rides by smoking several cigarettes and/or eating ice cream while pedaling) or spirituality (a quote from freud's <span style="font-style:italic;">civilization and its discontents</span> - "i cannot find this 'oceanic' feeling in myself" - comes to mind whenever i ponder spirituality or religion) but i fucking love yoga. i'm a pretty tense person - never give me a massage because i've found that they're exercises in futility concerning either romance or relaxation - but yoga relaxes me more than almost any other activity. and have you ever smoked a cigarette after a yoga session? <span style="font-style:italic;">that</span> is the closest i've come to a religious experience. i <a href="http://www.simplyartonline.net/The%20Ecstasy%20of%20St%20Teresa.jpg">ecstasy of st. teresa</a> all over the fucking place.<br /><br />i think i'm going to start using works of art as verbs more often.<br /><br />this past week: getting a phone, missed connections but not the craigslist kind, <a href="http://thisrecording.com/today/2011/1/20/in-which-john-ashbery-and-kenneth-koch-start-making-sense.html">john ashbery in conversation with kenneth koch</a>, waking up at either 3:30 or 4:30 a.m. for absolutely no reason and spending an hour trying to fall back asleep, being disappointed with the february issue of <span style="font-style:italic;">poetry</span> magazine, root vegetable chips, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Acme-Novelty-Library-Chris-Ware/dp/1770460209">jason lint</a>, crazy people, actually wanting to see new movies (<span style="font-style:italic;">the king's speech</span>, <span style="font-style:italic;">the rite</span>), leaving my flask in megan's car part ii, trying to give water to random girls peeing/throwing up in the shadiest part of downtown ever at 2 in the morning but being yelled at for it, realizing that if i'm fucking someone i'm probably unhappy with their hairLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-91531597399507218692011-01-19T11:03:00.000-08:002011-01-19T12:23:05.191-08:00the age of innocence, or, being accidentally burnt by cigarettes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TTc25quQO2I/AAAAAAAAAe8/J0fzaDH9gwQ/s1600/Picture%2B5.png"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 365px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TTc25quQO2I/AAAAAAAAAe8/J0fzaDH9gwQ/s400/Picture%2B5.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563976228988271458" /></a><br /><br />it is impossibly bright outside, i low-key love <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAF9ZkhOYPA">"tea for two,"</a> that <a href="http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/Blis.shtml">"bliss"</a> excerpt is kind of my life right now (minus the being thirty part; also i never really want to "run," ever), i've been wondering about who has been "the best communist [leader]" in history thus far and maybe because of this i've also been thinking about reading <span style="font-style:italic;">das kapital</span> (but not in public because attracting fifteen-year-olds is not a good look, and neither is marxism [ohhhhhh]), i'm not really into the whole "coachella" thing (maybe it's because i don't have any denim cut-offs?), i've discovered that i hate showering from noon-6 p.m., and i guess i like basketball but i'm not 100% ready to admit that yetLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-37229483102341564112011-01-19T09:38:00.000-08:002011-01-19T11:07:44.392-08:00wear silk stockings with golden seams<iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/y8ATFsXmX4g?rel=0" frameborder="0"></iframe><br /><br />and live (highly recommended):<br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/xfMp6zcmcFw?rel=0" frameborder="0"></iframe><br /><br />i've always wondered if it was "bawl all night" or "<a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ball">ball all night</a>" (the fourth entry) but given that it's about a prostitute it's <span style="font-style:italic;">probably</span> the latter, yeah?Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-49095469432452740642011-01-18T11:07:00.000-08:002011-01-18T11:15:55.511-08:00ALL WE WANT IS YOUR MONEY: a power pop/punk youtube video triumvirate<iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3bs4X-YxMho?rel=0" frameborder="0"></iframe><br />the eat, "kneecappin"<br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/floCVgDygZo?rel=0" frameborder="0"></iframe><br />they must be russians, "psychoanalysis"<br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/CjutMbn6yEE?rel=0" frameborder="0"></iframe><br />the cigarettes, "you were so young"Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-23005708018527433292011-01-18T09:45:00.000-08:002011-01-18T11:16:30.176-08:00n.s. no sell out<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TTXdK1_gJPI/AAAAAAAAAe0/e1lzkQ576co/s1600/lighterfluid.jpeg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 254px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TTXdK1_gJPI/AAAAAAAAAe0/e1lzkQ576co/s400/lighterfluid.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563596093047973106" /></a><br />"huffing lighter fluid"<br /><br /><a href="http://bryanlewissaunders.org/drugs/">bryan lewis saunders did some drugs and drew self-portraits while under the influence of said drugs</a>. insert "lololol" here<br /><br />so some looter stole a statue, some guardia di finanza dudes caught wind of it and caught homeboy loading the statue into a lorry. it turns out that it came from caligula's previously-thought-to-be-lost tomb <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/jan/17/caligula-tomb-found-police-statue">and now excavations are underway</a>. i'm excited to see what kind of crazy/awesome shit caligula wanted lain to rest with him. maybe that horse?<br /><br />i've been getting a lot of "i miss you" messages lately which only confirms what's been in the back of my mind: i've been a shitty friend. i've been so wrapped up in what-fucking-ever (adding music to geoff's itunes library, reading <span style="font-style:italic;">poetry</span> magazine, not wearing pants, <a href="http://foreversincebreakfast.tumblr.com">tumblin'</a>, drinking whiskey and water and yelling about movies) that i barely hang out with or talk to a lot of my friends anymore. the other day kurt was talking about his "bubble" and how he does the same things in the same places with the same people, and it made me think about my own "bubble," even though it's really more of a rut. i've been so used to doing the same shit that it's become problematic trying to include other things or people into my routine. not having a phone has obviously made my already poor out-of-sight communication skills worse. i still don't want to get a phone - it's nice not being on call 24/7 - but this selfishness obviously has consequences.<br /><br />leopard-print trench report: i wore it regularly until the the weather started sucking (read: 80 degrees in january; hell for me, awesome for everyone else) and i had to walk to chinatown from echo park carrying it which upset me so now it's crumpled up on the floor<br /><br />anyway, <a href="http://www.barneys.com/Sale/SALE04,default,sc.html?utm_source=CHTAH&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=FinalSale75&email=londonlikethecity@gmail.com">barney's is having a fucking 75% off saleeeeeeee</a>Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-10622919311818316902011-01-10T12:25:00.000-08:002011-01-10T12:31:42.800-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TStsaMRRlkI/AAAAAAAAAes/2rgQuMzTp4s/s1600/img04355-20110105-2001-jpg.jpeg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TStsaMRRlkI/AAAAAAAAAes/2rgQuMzTp4s/s400/img04355-20110105-2001-jpg.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560657362145089090" /></a><br /><br />roberto bolano is officially one of my favorite authors btwLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-31034885796306778122011-01-06T10:57:00.000-08:002011-01-06T11:15:38.839-08:00money, hos, and clothes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TSYRf9xCfrI/AAAAAAAAAek/L5DxOSpb8pQ/s1600/Marc%2Bby%2BMarc%2BJacobs%25C2%25A0.jpeg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 345px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TSYRf9xCfrI/AAAAAAAAAek/L5DxOSpb8pQ/s400/Marc%2Bby%2BMarc%2BJacobs%25C2%25A0.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559150030889320114" /></a><br /><br />speaking of clothes (sort of), last winter i bought this ridiculous trench, wore it once or twice, decided i hated it, and hung it up in a distant part of my closet. i guess i've had a change of heart because every now and then i'll see someone in a leopard-print something and think, "hm, i kind of miss that trench." because i'm so small it looks a bit like i've been swallowed by a leopard but i think i can get down now. new year's resolution: all velvet/leopard everything. just kidding. sort of.Londonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8108513486766994006.post-77850001170725224012011-01-06T10:45:00.001-08:002011-01-06T10:50:59.114-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TSYOT75wUaI/AAAAAAAAAec/boAe_R3r84E/s1600/-%2521SPANX%2B167%2BHigh%2BWaisted%2BTight%2BEnd%2BTights--249741722.jpeg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B2nPx-MqvfM/TSYOT75wUaI/AAAAAAAAAec/boAe_R3r84E/s400/-%2521SPANX%2B167%2BHigh%2BWaisted%2BTight%2BEnd%2BTights--249741722.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559146525695693218" /></a><br />cvs, can you please do me a favor and stop only stocking those fucking shaping tights? if i wanted to wear biker shorts with my tights i would. i don't care if my ass is looking a little out of control KEEP YOUR JUDGEMENT OFF MY THIGHS<br /><br />also last.fm radio i want to thank you for not playing the chopped 'n screwed version of "one day" by ugk for onceLondonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488955436942834896noreply@blogger.com0