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i think that yes, black people were props, and that it was a super intentional move on korine's part. i think the race / class aspects of the film were really subtle and present, and added a lot to the disquieting tone of the film. like, the scene where they're in the pool hall hanging out with all the black folk, and selena gomez started crying and talking about how she didn't want to be there, these people weren't nice, etc- at that moment, those girls were being way more physically respected than they were in the previous scenes with all the white roided out college boys, and the main difference was the fact that it was in a space controlled by black men and that black men feel inherently dangerous to these white girls. i thought it was really fucking brilliant.
gaaaahhh, i am seriously not joking when i say that dennis rodman is my spirit guide! like, as a weird kid growing up in the mid-90s who had gender issues, i think he was the first person i saw in the super straight, super male world who just totally let himself be a weirdo, and was super powerful and had so much swagger while doing so. it made a deep impression on me! i love him so, so, so, so, so very much!
all i saw is that DENNIS RODMAN, who is legit my spirit guide, was at the vatican this morning flashing DEVIL HORNS and now in my mind he is the pope and i don't give any fucks about who else they might "claim" to be the pope, POPE RODMAN FOREVERRRRRR.
i had a pretty okay day yesterday. long day at work but it felt positive and like my work campaign is going somewhere, and then a collective meeting for the art space i work with, followed by band practice, followed by drinks with a person that i really like who i don't get to see too often. which kinda bummed me out in this weird way because i've had a torch for him for years now but he's in a really good relationship so it is definitely hands off / can't even remotely be upset about it, you know? and now just one more day at work before i head off to a long weekend traveling with friends!
can this be where i talk about how much i hate patti smith's and micheal stipe's terrible vanity photography projects? that routinely get featured in publications like aperture and get massive gallery shows? the photos are terrible terrible terrible terrible i hate them all so goddamned much.
i would do anything for there to be a tv show starring courtney love and courtney stodden.
when's the "very special" kurt and courtney episode airing?
i mean, frankly this kid seems way cooler than i was at 12, so i feel weird making fun of him. have a great party, daniel! get trashed on some manischewitz! smoke a cigarette! get handsy with yer best friend's foxy older sister! LIVE LIFE!
i got very drunk and made out in an alley with a very hot dude, which is like, basically my idea of a perfect valentine's day, because i am a classy lady.
i think my vag just sewed itself shut.
http://www.thepaincomics.com/weekly100616.htm is this what it is like?
i'm finally over my mardi gras hangover. and tonight i'm dressing up as courtney love and playing a cover show! and hopefully kissing on a cute dude that i've been hanging with. with enough booze, both things should go either wonderfully or horribly, so we'll see!
i'm playing in a valentine's day cover band show, so i don't have to worry about anything other than getting really drunk and acting like courtney love. which is OBVIOUSLY going to get me ALL THE DATES after the show. related: it was mardi gras yesterday and i drank for 12 hours straight and actually think i broke things inside of my body, like bones and several important internal organs.
as aforementioned, my favorite ad was for the city of new orleans and our horrific decaying infrastructure.
right, it just felt like doom, and honestly i feel doom pretty constantly around here so it was kind of like watching my psychic anxiety over living in this place projected to millions and millions of sports fans. it felt like the most profound example of bread and circuses i had ever personally seen.
can i talk about the superbowl for a minute? specifically the blackout? specifically my amazing joy and excitement about the blackout? i left the party i was at with a few friends who were similarly ecstatic- we drove downtown and gawked at the completely dark superdome, surrounded by all the glittering ostentatious lights of the central business district and the fifty foot tall liquor ads. it was like watching the narrative of new orleans being okay fucking die on primetime. i was looking at the dead heart of the city, crammed full of rich assholes who see this place as just another place to throw a party. when i first came back to new orleans after the storm, whenever i saw the superdome i felt so overwhelmed and terrible. i used to tell people that it was like that shot in 'the shining' where you see the overlook for the first time. and last night it sort of felt like that again, just for a moment, which is not to say that it is a good thing, but it always somehow feels good for me to remember, and for other people to see, just how close to crumbling this place is.
my ex sincerely believed he was haunted and that malevolent spirits were tormenting him. turns out it was just the beginning stages of schizophrenia.
no, unfortunately. he's a catholic retired tire salesman with anger management issues. but they do look alike.
http://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/toht_8064.jpg MARION, DON'T LOOK AT IT! SHUT YOUR EYES!
this is exactly what thanksgiving dinner with my crazy grandfather is like, except you need to add in a bunch of racist comments and some real weird and inappropriate sexual comments towards female family members.
patrick, jurassic park on the melodica has, no joke, become my preferred therapy. whenever i feel really terrible and depressed, i watch that clip, and i appreciate how absolutely fucking absurd and wonderful humanity is.
well, i graduated from grad school. went through a pretty ridiculous break up. got to move home to the city i love which is filled with people i love. i'm plowing headway through the inevitable existential crisis over what exactly it is that i am doing with my time here on this weird earth. i'm trying to stay busy, stay connected to people, and trying to make music and art that makes me feel a bit okay. i'm terrified that things are just going to get harder and sadder, and i'm trying to figure out how to either be okay with that or how to make it end differently. it's dark and cold today, but there's nothing i can do about that.
i'm afraid of getting old.
too often we rag on beauty contestants for saying stupid shit, but really, the questions that they are asked are terrible questions! and we all know that the questions are purposeless, but seriously, "if you could write a law, what law would you write" is what a 13 year old nerd would stammer out to the girl he has a crush on in line at lunch. not just any nerd, a fucking conservative nerd who fetishizes the constitution. props to this girl for shoe-horning surfing and "the constitution" into her answer, i'm just going to assume she's actually a situationist / anarchist, what with her green and black dress.
man, y'all. i work out. like, 4 a week, usually. and i cannot get this type of definition. i still have tiny baby love handles. and i see stuff like this, and am just FLOORED by the amount of time and work that it takes to make your body do that. also roids. and muscle milk. neither of which i ingest.
maybe tortilla jesus has a fetish?
my weekend included a terrible terrible hang-out with my crush, which may have torpedoed the whole thing. i actually had to tell him that we're not allowed to go drinking anymore (or until our interactions get stabilized), because our dynamics get real weird after approximately 4 rounds of drinks. the whole thing contributed to roughly 2 days of terrible anxiety, culminating in me waking up to a full blown panic attack at 3am this morning. also i started smoking again, which is depressing me and making me physically feel like shit. BLECH.
oooooooh, gurl. i got chillblaines one winter (it's a non modern disease, haha) from running around on new years eve (once again, HATE YOU, NEW YEARS) in the cold with wet shoes and it was the worst experience ever. if you can, step out of work and go to a drugstore and buy some new socks / a pair of slippers / whatever. get your feetsies dry and warm!
you mean the summer? nah, that's when it's 100 degrees and you drink daiquiris by the river to catch the cool breezes, and go swim in hotel pools and double feature at the cinemas just to get a break. seriously, 70 degrees is actually kinda cold to me at this point. i am a reptile person. the south has turned me into a reptile.
i am SO STOKED that my two terrible years of living in the northeast are done with. IT'S SEVENTY DEGREES WHERE I AM! i rode my bike last night in a tshirt and light cardigan! everything is still green! there are morning glories blooming outside of my office! fuck you, seasonal depression! NEVER AGAIN NEVER AGAIN.
there were two bathrooms at the house, so that wasn't too much of an issue. but the door to this particular bathroom wouldn't shut the whole way, so the level of privacy was debatable. luckily i was pretty drunk at this point, so i don't remember it all too well? and, i mean, there were signs that he was "troubled", for sure. i'm actually still close to this person? it took many years for me to detach / deal with it all / he ended up having to hit super rock bottom with booze and drugs and mental health issues. i was just super taken with him, and should've been more careful with not dating total messes that inevitable drag me into the mess / make me into a mess. hahaha, let's all pretend that i learned my lesson and have not repeated that mistake at least 4 times, and am not possibly doing it again.
"At the stroke of midnight on New Years, kiss someone other than your date. #HOLIDAYPRANKED!" this happened to me. as in, i watched my boyfriend make out with someone else, and then we spent the rest of the evening in a bathroom at the party breaking up, with like, all of our friends in the next room. and then i walked home across town crying. i fucking hate new years.
one of my good friends from hs robbed a bank to support a crippling heroin addiction. :(
i think their vocal coach needs to explain the concept of "alto range" to them.
.....guysireallydidn'tlikethatmovieandfeelreallyintensecomplicatedthingsaboutit.
can we talk about other people, truly talented people, who were destroyed by demons and how much we wish they had survived to continue to make art, music, or writing? people whose voices we miss dearly and desperately? i'll start. david foster wallace. i just finished the pale king and my god, i wish that book had come to full fruition.
omg. print me like, 500 please?
i'm thinking about registering myself as an LLC and making business cards. drinking buddy for hire! will make you drink girly shots and dance to rowdy country songs that play on the jukebo!. may or may not get in a bar fight, depending on your mood! good at shit talking, navel gazing, and waxing philosophically about how we're all limping towards some awful terminus that may be apocalyptic, but probably will just be slow and twisting and sad.
gabe, do you need a buddy to buy you a bottle of whiskey, and drink said whiskey with you, and then maybe make terrible decisions late into the evening where things and people might get broken? i'm good at that.