 |
| Parker Posey in Broken English |
Thursday, April 7, 2011
DumbMovie
Great Look.
I love everything on her head. And is that a raincloud necklace? Sure. I'll take one. If not, I'll make one.
70'sFilm
If you don't know that the 70's are back by now, you must not get out much. Even people in Erie are embracing those iconic 70's threads...oh. Never mind. They just haven't changed their style in thirty-five years. Anyways, I've decided to celebrate this marvelous decade's revival by watching all the greatest films from the era. In preparation, I suggest watching the documentary A Decade Under the Influence. It's AMAZING. It really makes you appreciate the art that came out of a decade which is so often dismissed with thoughts of bell bottoms and disco balls. The blockbuster studios were at once pushed aside by a new brand of unconventional, offbeat and creative pictures. It was a wonderful win for the avant garde who seized the attention of the rapidly evolving American audience. Alas, with the dawn of the 80's, blockbusters once again took hold and there has yet to be such a beautiful rebirth of the vanguard in mainstream culture since. But one can always hope, and after all, at least we can relive each moment, one film at a time.I've seen pink. Must see blue. May re-watch some pink.
I'll let you know how they are.
-The Deer Hunter
-Taxi Driver
-The Panic in Needle Park
-Midnight Cowboy (even those it's from '69, it's got a 70's vibe)
-Amarcord
-Straw Dogs
-Chinatown
-Marathon Man
-Kramer v Kramer
-The Last Picture Show
-Dog Day Afternoon
-American Graffiti
-The Conversation
-Annie Hall
-The Landlord
-Seven Beauties
-Cabaret
-The Godfather I&II
-The Man Who Fell to Earth
-The Goodbye Girl
-Harold and Maude
-Scenes from a Marriage
-One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
My LifeSource
vintage hoffman. OHyes.
Quick summary: Hoffman plays a Columbia grad student whose brother, played by Roy Scheider, works for the government and is currently tracking Lawrence Olivier who plays a Nazi trying to steal a shitload of diamonds. One thing leads to another and Dustin gets all caught up in it....
...Anyways, when this movie began, I expected that I would just sit around and bask in the simple joys of 1970's New York City grime, Dustin's perfect little running shorts and tight blue sweatshirt, and some good old fashioned Nazi hating. But instead, I was glued to the tv by a plot that wouldn't quit. Every time you thought you got it, something would throw you off again. As the film progressed, the dialogue dwindled and was replaced by an outstanding soundtrack that carried it through to its perfect conclusion. When it ended, all I could say was wow, that was randomly amazing. Who knew? This is in no means intended to be a review, but instead an acknowledgment of a great masterpiece that I think EVERYONE needs to go see, hence my vague-ness. (Side Note: It's on instant view on Netflix right now!!!)
I will now end this entry with a line that had to of exceeded the corny line by so far that it looped around and can be considered ironically cool, "It is definitely 'safe' to say that this movie won't let you down." (Watch the movie, you'll get it)
Regardless, vintage Hoffman at his finest :)
Also, you get to see his butt.
ItalianTime.
If you want to be cool, you will go to this website and buy all their watches ---> http://oclock.bigcartel.com
They straight up look like Mr. Bill for your wrist. Does that equate? Well it does in my mind.
They straight up look like Mr. Bill for your wrist. Does that equate? Well it does in my mind.
 |
| From O Clock Products $36 |
SummerNights&BeachDrives.
 |
| Summer Sam w/ bff Tig. Lovin' freeze-pops since 1991ish? |
There's nothing quite like a summer drive home from the shore. As you coast down the parkway, a light sense of serenity seems to gently drape itself over the car. It kind of feels like that first night where you only sleep with the sheet and ditch the comforter. It doesn't take long before this calm envelopes the entire car and all of its occupants in a tranquility that can only be achieved by that false sense of an endless summer. The summer vacation kind. No work, no school, no care. Just freeze-pops. Preferably the pink or blue kind. They don't need to be jumbo, they could be regular sized. In fact I prefer regular size. Less excessive. More nostalgic...anyways...the night seems full of possibilities, like it could go on forever, like you just want to keep driving and never reach the city. Even the rest stops seem glamorous. With stiff salty hair and red cheeks, you recline your chair, crack the window and relax. There is no need to talk to your fellow passengers. All that needs to be said can wait till a more real time. No words will be necessary in making this rule known to your fellow travelers. They just know. And when you go to turn on your ipod, you better not ruin this magical mood. It's in times like these where I always go for Nicole Atkins. She is the shore. I like to think she was born in the sand. Just popped out one day and started singing about mermaids. Even though I don't think she ever did sing about mermaids. One of her songs is called Neptune City and I think it just makes me think of a merman. But regardless...although she just released a new album, with some great jams, I prefer her old one for this drive. Nothing says summer like Brooklyn's on fire. Well wasn't that a rhyme for the ages? Oh wait, it doesn't really rhyme.. But in the end, I'm a sucker for the original and personally, nothing can do this night justice like Maybe Tonight can. It just screams intrigue and romance coupled with a haunting melody that makes the night seem eternal. So even though it's April, and it's snow storming in Erie, I can't help but sit in my blanket and listen to the sounds of what's to come. So grab your freeze-pops, have a listen and join me in my lovely daydream.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
SUMMERTIME!
It's almost time for summer! Bathing suits, stoop sitting, park laying, nighttime walks and the shoreeeeee!!! But what bathing suit to choose?
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Squirrel
So, I've got something in my walls/ceiling. It totally sucks because it creeps me out and I keep thinking it's going to come through the vent and attack me. I think the worst thing about it, is that I don't know what it is. I need x-ray glasses. For a while, I thought it was a rat, named ratly, but lately, I've been more inclined to think it's a squirrel. Probably because that makes me feel better. Henceforth, his name has been changed to Squirrely. I kinda hear him now. He's just slightly squirming around. On Friday I think he feel because there was a rather large crash sound that came from my bathroom vent, followed by some serious squeakage from the poor guy. I actually felt bad for him. I just have to keep telling myself he's a squirrel so I'll have sympathy for him instead of terror. There's probably a hole in the building that he comes in to take refuge from the bad weather/cold. Maybe he'll be all gone in the summer. Anyone know how to get rid of squirrels? I should go down to Rittenhouse and ask squirrel man for advice.
Help.
Sol LeWitt, writing in 1965, counsels a young Eva Hesse to stop over-thinking her art.
Dear Eva,
It will be almost a month since you wrote to me and you have possibly forgotten your state of mind (I doubt it though). You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute of it. Don't! Learn to say "Fuck You" to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, grasping, confusing, itchin, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, numbling, rumbling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO!
From your description, and from what I know of your previous work and you [sic] ability; the work you are doing sounds very good "Drawing-clean-clear but crazy like machines, larger and bolder... real nonsense." That sounds fine, wonderful - real nonsense. Do more. More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, cunts, whatever - make them abound with nonsense. Try and tickle something inside you, your "weird humor." You belong in the most secret part of you. Don't worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your own world. If you fear, make it work for you - draw & paint your fear and anxiety. And stop worrying about big, deep things such as "to decide on a purpose and way of life, a consistant [sic] approach to even some impossible end or even an imagined end" You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO!
I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work - the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell - you are not responsible for the world - you are only responsible for your work - so DO IT. And don't think that your work has to conform to any preconceived form, idea or flavor. It can be anything you want it to be. But if life would be easier for you if you stopped working - then stop. Don't punish yourself. However, I think that it is so deeply engrained in you that it would be easier to DO!
It seems I do understand your attitude somewhat, anyway, because I go through a similar process every so often. I have an "Agonizing Reappraisal" of my work and change everything as much as possible = and hate everything I've done, and try to do something entirely different and better. Maybe that kind of process is necessary to me, pushing me on and on. The feeling that I can do better than that shit I just did. Maybe you need your agony to accomplish what you do. And maybe it goads you on to do better. But it is very painful I know. It would be better if you had the confidence just to do the stuff and not even think about it. Can't you leave the "world" and "ART" alone and also quit fondling your ego. I know that you (or anyone) can only work so much and the rest of the time you are left with your thoughts. But when you work or before your work you have to empty you [sic] mind and concentrate on what you are doing. After you do something it is done and that's that. After a while you can see some are better than others but also you can see what direction you are going. I'm sure you know all that. You also must know that you don't have to justify your work - not even to yourself. Well, you know I admire your work greatly and can't understand why you are so bothered by it. But you can see the next ones and I can't. You also must believe in your ability. I think you do. So try the most outrageous things you can - shock yourself. You have at your power the ability to do anything.
I would like to see your work and will have to be content to wait until Aug or Sept. I have seen photos of some of Tom's new things at Lucy's. They are impressive - especially the ones with the more rigorous form: the simpler ones. I guess he'll send some more later on. Let me know how the shows are going and that kind of stuff.
My work had changed since you left and it is much better. I will be having a show May 4 -9 at the Daniels Gallery 17 E 64yh St (where Emmerich was), I wish you could be there. Much love to you both.
Sol
Dear Eva,
It will be almost a month since you wrote to me and you have possibly forgotten your state of mind (I doubt it though). You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute of it. Don't! Learn to say "Fuck You" to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, grasping, confusing, itchin, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, numbling, rumbling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO!
From your description, and from what I know of your previous work and you [sic] ability; the work you are doing sounds very good "Drawing-clean-clear but crazy like machines, larger and bolder... real nonsense." That sounds fine, wonderful - real nonsense. Do more. More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, cunts, whatever - make them abound with nonsense. Try and tickle something inside you, your "weird humor." You belong in the most secret part of you. Don't worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your own world. If you fear, make it work for you - draw & paint your fear and anxiety. And stop worrying about big, deep things such as "to decide on a purpose and way of life, a consistant [sic] approach to even some impossible end or even an imagined end" You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO!
I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work - the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell - you are not responsible for the world - you are only responsible for your work - so DO IT. And don't think that your work has to conform to any preconceived form, idea or flavor. It can be anything you want it to be. But if life would be easier for you if you stopped working - then stop. Don't punish yourself. However, I think that it is so deeply engrained in you that it would be easier to DO!
It seems I do understand your attitude somewhat, anyway, because I go through a similar process every so often. I have an "Agonizing Reappraisal" of my work and change everything as much as possible = and hate everything I've done, and try to do something entirely different and better. Maybe that kind of process is necessary to me, pushing me on and on. The feeling that I can do better than that shit I just did. Maybe you need your agony to accomplish what you do. And maybe it goads you on to do better. But it is very painful I know. It would be better if you had the confidence just to do the stuff and not even think about it. Can't you leave the "world" and "ART" alone and also quit fondling your ego. I know that you (or anyone) can only work so much and the rest of the time you are left with your thoughts. But when you work or before your work you have to empty you [sic] mind and concentrate on what you are doing. After you do something it is done and that's that. After a while you can see some are better than others but also you can see what direction you are going. I'm sure you know all that. You also must know that you don't have to justify your work - not even to yourself. Well, you know I admire your work greatly and can't understand why you are so bothered by it. But you can see the next ones and I can't. You also must believe in your ability. I think you do. So try the most outrageous things you can - shock yourself. You have at your power the ability to do anything.
I would like to see your work and will have to be content to wait until Aug or Sept. I have seen photos of some of Tom's new things at Lucy's. They are impressive - especially the ones with the more rigorous form: the simpler ones. I guess he'll send some more later on. Let me know how the shows are going and that kind of stuff.
My work had changed since you left and it is much better. I will be having a show May 4 -9 at the Daniels Gallery 17 E 64yh St (where Emmerich was), I wish you could be there. Much love to you both.
Sol
beautifully stuck in my head for days
I like this one better but of course it won't let me embed it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JuYKC28H-x0
Friday, June 26, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
The Day I Became Sad
Some days are sad days. Some days are sad days for no reason. Actually, i take that back. Neutral days are the issue. The kind where you have stuff to make you happy, but you also have equal stuff to make you sad. These kindsa days, emotions can go either way. It used to just be a surprise. I was never able to predict which way my emotions were going to sway. But i think I figured it out. The trick is a fabulous song. A song that's more than just catchy; more than just a passing favorite that you'll add to your, "BEST SONGS EVER!" playlist but end up skipping over it and become irritated by it's presence a week later. It has to have it all. You have to love every moment of it. Every rhyme, every lyric, every note. This song, believe it or not, has the ability to make you both over the top, hyperventilating with excitement, unconditionally happy, to totally and utterly, and thoroughly, painstakingly sad. And that's what makes it so lovely. Today, I am sad.
Friday, June 5, 2009
More Andy!
Since I have already extensively expressed my love for Andy Warhol, you'll all understand how excited I was to hear that in September a video comprised of 13 of Warhol's silent film stills are going to be released for the first time. The videos were "shot between 1964 and 1966 at Warhol's Factory studio in New York City...and are presented with newly commissioned soundtracks by Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips."
I would like to own this. Preferably the limited edition DVD because it comes with a poster. I really love posters.
Anyways, Wareham and Phillips are going to preform the songs on September 18th at the Live Arts Festival. Soo let's go guys.
Here's the website: www.13mostbeautiful.com
& here's a preview:
I would like to own this. Preferably the limited edition DVD because it comes with a poster. I really love posters.
Anyways, Wareham and Phillips are going to preform the songs on September 18th at the Live Arts Festival. Soo let's go guys.
Here's the website: www.13mostbeautiful.com
& here's a preview:
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
I Like, The Like
Although this was my favorite song last summer, I still think it is completely and utterly fantastic and should definitely be documented as such. The most annoying thing though, is that I can't find any downloads of it so I can't get it on my ipod. Beyond annoying.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Belle and Sebastion
Okay so I know I was complaining earlier about how nobody ever wants to do anything fun. But, if you love me and want to do one thing with me, just one thing for the entire summer, you have got to come with me to the Belle and Sebastian dance party. Please. They are my favorite band in the entire world. I can't believe that this happens.
Also, a Belle and Sebastian-like soundtrack comes out on June 23. It's called, "God Help the Girl," and it is from an upcoming movie of "a story set to music, which Stuart Murdoch has been working on intermittently for the last five years, its origin in some songs that were written while Belle and Sebastian were touring ‘Dear Catastrophe Waitress’ in 2004." (Stuart Murdoch is the lead singer and songwriter for Belle and Sebastian) I've actually listened to most of the songs on the soundtrack at, http://www.imeem.com/godhelpthegirl/ and I must say it's completely fantastic.
An intro:
Also, a Belle and Sebastian-like soundtrack comes out on June 23. It's called, "God Help the Girl," and it is from an upcoming movie of "a story set to music, which Stuart Murdoch has been working on intermittently for the last five years, its origin in some songs that were written while Belle and Sebastian were touring ‘Dear Catastrophe Waitress’ in 2004." (Stuart Murdoch is the lead singer and songwriter for Belle and Sebastian) I've actually listened to most of the songs on the soundtrack at, http://www.imeem.com/godhelpthegirl/ and I must say it's completely fantastic.
An intro:
God Help The Girl - an introduction from God Help The Girl on Vimeo.
Hipsters
Did you know that in Erie, Pa they have no idea what a hispter is? They have never even heard the term before. It's weird. Ya know, I'm not going to lie, hipsters are incredibly aesthetically pleasing but from what I gather from my own observations and other's testimonies, they are kinda douchey. Actually, I've been called a hipster before though. I don't know, I don't own a bike. That's essential. But I want one. So maybe I am one. But I'm not all that douchey. In the end, I'd take a hipster over a bro anyday. But regardless, this video is funny...but I must say, their choice of hipsters are quite lacking...they could've gotten some that looked much more stereotypical hipstery.
Nagi Noda 1973-2008
Okay I'm totally stealing this from someone else's blog but it's just so cool I couldn't help myself.
A Japanese Pop artist, Noda was born in 1973 and passed away in 2008. In addition to her "hair sculptures," she also is widely known for her videos which encompass both music videos and commercial advertisements.
Noda's website: http://www.naginoda.com/
A Japanese Pop artist, Noda was born in 1973 and passed away in 2008. In addition to her "hair sculptures," she also is widely known for her videos which encompass both music videos and commercial advertisements.
Noda's website: http://www.naginoda.com/
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
ahahahahahaha
Watch this 45 year old little kid with a Kate Gosselin haircut freak out like a 45 year old lady. It's priceless.
Monday, May 25, 2009
My Favorite Artists (Chronological Order)
1. Edvard Munch 1863-1944; Symbolist
2. Marcel Duchamp 1887-1968 Dada
2. Marcel Duchamp 1887-1968 Dada
3. Giorgio de Chirico 1888-1978
4. Egon Schiele 1890-1918
5. Alice Neel 1900-1984 Figurative Revival
5. Alice Neel 1900-1984 Figurative Revival
6. Alberto Giacometti 1901-1966 New European Masters
7. Willem de Kooning 1904-1997; Abstract Expressionist
8. Francis Bacon 1909-1992; New European Masters
10. George Segal 1924-2000; Pop Artist
8. Francis Bacon 1909-1992; New European Masters
10. George Segal 1924-2000; Pop Artist
9. Andy Warhol 1928-1987; Pop Artist
10. Jasper Johns 1930-; Nouveau Realisme
11. Michelangelo Pistoletto 1933-; Conceptual Artist 
11. Michelangelo Pistoletto 1933-; Conceptual Artist 
12. David Hockney 1937-; Pop Artist
13. My dad obviously...Tom Ferraro 1954-;
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Hmm I'm still feeling sorry for myself. I don't want to but it's just so easy to. I'm really lazy too. It's probably because I'm so hot, which is because I can't turn on my air because I have no money to pay for it. And I just drank a hot chocolate. I don't know why. Maybe Brian was right and hot chocolate in the summer is never good no matter how rainy or which movies you pair it with. Not that I watched a movie with my hot chocolate.. Just an episode of Dateline entitled, The Spy Who Loved Me. It was not interesting. If you see it on your tv guide just save yourself the time and skip over it.
Being poor could have it's major advantages though. I mean, not real poor, but college poor. Or in other words, the poor that one knows they can go home to their parents if things get too impoverished for their own taste. I mean, just look at the possibilities of my summer of poverty...no food means I am forced to lose weight meaning, maybe I'll actually wear pants come autumn. (I say autumn rather than fall because autumn sounds more Parisian even though the word autumn does not sound French at all.) Anyways..what else is good about being poor? I mean, there's lot's of fun things to do when your poor. You can make your own clothes (though I lack a sewing machine) You can ride bikes around instead of paying for subway passes (though I also lack a bike...and courage to take one out on the road. I'd totally get railed by a Septa bus) You can still go out with friends, as long as there's no cover...and you'd have to be okay with being the douche that only drinks water, or sips on one beer all night (which I must admit has been me) Or you can always pregame your drunkness before you leave...although that would entail buying alcohol to pregame with which I cannot afford right now. When you're poor, it is definitely a bad idea to walk past an Urban Outfitters (or whatever your favorite store may be) But poverty definitely makes you be creative. So I can't go out tonight and celebrate the holiday, whatever, I'm having a great time with this creative blog writing alternative...not that anyone reads this. I had a great dream last night. I hate that the building out my window looks like a Floridian old person's home.
But back to poverty...I guess it's not all that fun when you're being poor alone. I mean, it can be at first, like an adventure of survival...but then it just gets old. I want someone to spend my poor summer with. Someone who will lay on the ground with the windows open (a futile effort to let in the minimal breeze produced despite the fact that I live in the most notorious wind tunnel in all of the world) but it could be nice. We could listen to songs and talk about epic movies that have changed our lives and our childhoods and the things we'd do without money then, and the things we are afraid of and the things we want to do and we could make extravagant plans for the days when their will be money and the places we could travel to and the places we'd never want to go or the places we thought we'd never want to go but for some reason lately have been struck with an overwhelming urge to experience (Tokyo). We could talk about books (not that I read but maybe my poor summer companion could inspire me to)...Maybe we could go browse the thrift stores and find fantastic ties and hats and sunglasses and maybe even a monocle. A monocle would be quite the find. Perhaps he'll know a magic trick, I think I have cards. Or perhaps some good jokes, they don't require cards, but actually I'm not a huge fan of jokes. We could drink fabulously cold water from my filtered water pitcher which will probably be filled with little black specks because the filter needs to be changed and apparently little black specks are the result of old filters...but I've been drinking them and I don't think they are all that harmful...then we can eat free candy bars on free candy bar friday which I could only imagine how much of a hassle that would turn into when we would try to redeem our candy bar ticket's at 24/7 mart whose employees most likely were not informed of candy bar friday and would not understand my english explanation...then it could rain and we could sit on my stoop and get totally soaked but it would be okay because we would be so hot for lack of air conditioning that the rain would be like a refreshing miracle...and of course we would have already eaten our candy bars so they would not be at risk...and people would run to their cars and into buildings and look at us like we were crazy but in fact they just don't remember their poor summers when they did the same thing. Their is nothing better than getting stuck in a summertime downpour. One time, I saw Snoop Dog in such downpour in Chinatown...I swear....When the rain stops we could walk around the neighborhood and dry our clothes on the swings because is their anything better than a swing? I'm a fantastic swinger, but I'm afraid to jump...then it would be off to Whole Foods for a sample dinner and perhaps splurging on a .65 cent rootbeer. And we could walk past the guacamole with looks of longing yet hopeful that Archana bought some while we were out....we could sit on the balcony as the sun finally begins to set and we could watch the lights in the buildings turn on little by little until they were the only lights illuminating the sky. We could sip on coffee and pretend to be Italian and that our coffee was really espresso and that my neighbors backyards were really a European alley. Then I would think about the top of the Comcast building being filled with water and how ridiculous and barely believable that is. But then I'd probably just believe it anyways. Maybe my neighbors would be in their windows and we could make insulting yet hilarious commentary about their actions. It'd be a perfect time for a cigarette, if only I smoked. Maybe my summer companion would and he would let me hold his cigarettes between drags so that I could share in his coolness. The air would finally turn cool and we would bask in the relief that we had been longing for all day. Maybe I'd even have to bust out my Old Navy fleece....and he wouldn't make fun of it. Then it would be way too hot to sleep in bed so we would lay out a clean white sheet that smelled like those dryer sheet things, and realize that this poor summer that we once hypothesiszd to be the one of the worst and most uneventful in the history of our lives, will probably end up to be one of the most memorable. All in all it would be a great summer if only I had a summer companion. Oh well, I guess you can't go around hoping and looking for someone because then it will never happen. And plus, it's still May, the summer is young.
Until then, I think there are meatballs in my freezer. Good day.
Being poor could have it's major advantages though. I mean, not real poor, but college poor. Or in other words, the poor that one knows they can go home to their parents if things get too impoverished for their own taste. I mean, just look at the possibilities of my summer of poverty...no food means I am forced to lose weight meaning, maybe I'll actually wear pants come autumn. (I say autumn rather than fall because autumn sounds more Parisian even though the word autumn does not sound French at all.) Anyways..what else is good about being poor? I mean, there's lot's of fun things to do when your poor. You can make your own clothes (though I lack a sewing machine) You can ride bikes around instead of paying for subway passes (though I also lack a bike...and courage to take one out on the road. I'd totally get railed by a Septa bus) You can still go out with friends, as long as there's no cover...and you'd have to be okay with being the douche that only drinks water, or sips on one beer all night (which I must admit has been me) Or you can always pregame your drunkness before you leave...although that would entail buying alcohol to pregame with which I cannot afford right now. When you're poor, it is definitely a bad idea to walk past an Urban Outfitters (or whatever your favorite store may be) But poverty definitely makes you be creative. So I can't go out tonight and celebrate the holiday, whatever, I'm having a great time with this creative blog writing alternative...not that anyone reads this. I had a great dream last night. I hate that the building out my window looks like a Floridian old person's home.
But back to poverty...I guess it's not all that fun when you're being poor alone. I mean, it can be at first, like an adventure of survival...but then it just gets old. I want someone to spend my poor summer with. Someone who will lay on the ground with the windows open (a futile effort to let in the minimal breeze produced despite the fact that I live in the most notorious wind tunnel in all of the world) but it could be nice. We could listen to songs and talk about epic movies that have changed our lives and our childhoods and the things we'd do without money then, and the things we are afraid of and the things we want to do and we could make extravagant plans for the days when their will be money and the places we could travel to and the places we'd never want to go or the places we thought we'd never want to go but for some reason lately have been struck with an overwhelming urge to experience (Tokyo). We could talk about books (not that I read but maybe my poor summer companion could inspire me to)...Maybe we could go browse the thrift stores and find fantastic ties and hats and sunglasses and maybe even a monocle. A monocle would be quite the find. Perhaps he'll know a magic trick, I think I have cards. Or perhaps some good jokes, they don't require cards, but actually I'm not a huge fan of jokes. We could drink fabulously cold water from my filtered water pitcher which will probably be filled with little black specks because the filter needs to be changed and apparently little black specks are the result of old filters...but I've been drinking them and I don't think they are all that harmful...then we can eat free candy bars on free candy bar friday which I could only imagine how much of a hassle that would turn into when we would try to redeem our candy bar ticket's at 24/7 mart whose employees most likely were not informed of candy bar friday and would not understand my english explanation...then it could rain and we could sit on my stoop and get totally soaked but it would be okay because we would be so hot for lack of air conditioning that the rain would be like a refreshing miracle...and of course we would have already eaten our candy bars so they would not be at risk...and people would run to their cars and into buildings and look at us like we were crazy but in fact they just don't remember their poor summers when they did the same thing. Their is nothing better than getting stuck in a summertime downpour. One time, I saw Snoop Dog in such downpour in Chinatown...I swear....When the rain stops we could walk around the neighborhood and dry our clothes on the swings because is their anything better than a swing? I'm a fantastic swinger, but I'm afraid to jump...then it would be off to Whole Foods for a sample dinner and perhaps splurging on a .65 cent rootbeer. And we could walk past the guacamole with looks of longing yet hopeful that Archana bought some while we were out....we could sit on the balcony as the sun finally begins to set and we could watch the lights in the buildings turn on little by little until they were the only lights illuminating the sky. We could sip on coffee and pretend to be Italian and that our coffee was really espresso and that my neighbors backyards were really a European alley. Then I would think about the top of the Comcast building being filled with water and how ridiculous and barely believable that is. But then I'd probably just believe it anyways. Maybe my neighbors would be in their windows and we could make insulting yet hilarious commentary about their actions. It'd be a perfect time for a cigarette, if only I smoked. Maybe my summer companion would and he would let me hold his cigarettes between drags so that I could share in his coolness. The air would finally turn cool and we would bask in the relief that we had been longing for all day. Maybe I'd even have to bust out my Old Navy fleece....and he wouldn't make fun of it. Then it would be way too hot to sleep in bed so we would lay out a clean white sheet that smelled like those dryer sheet things, and realize that this poor summer that we once hypothesiszd to be the one of the worst and most uneventful in the history of our lives, will probably end up to be one of the most memorable. All in all it would be a great summer if only I had a summer companion. Oh well, I guess you can't go around hoping and looking for someone because then it will never happen. And plus, it's still May, the summer is young.
Until then, I think there are meatballs in my freezer. Good day.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
No one ever wants to do anything
No one ever wants to do anything. I spend all my days online looking up fun things to do, and then I fill my phone with all these fantastic concerts and dances and art shows and for what? No one ever can go, and if they can they don't want to. This is stupid. I need a bike. I need a job. No one will hire me. This is all so annoying. Fuck. I'm so mad right now.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Andy.
I LOVE ANDY WARHOL!
Okay Okay, I know I'm an art major and should be discussing more obscure artists then the ever so popular and mainstream Andy Warhol. But before everyone starts freaking out about how cliche I'm being, let me tell you a few things that I bet you didn't know about everyone's favorite artist.
Okay, so first of all, he was born in Pittsburgh, which I'm sure a lot of people know, and his birth name was Andrew Warhola. He came from a very strict Byzantine Catholic family and lived in a Czechoslovakian enclave totally shut off from the rest of the city.
He remained fairly religious, attending church on Sunday's and he lived with his mother until her death.
As a child, he was diagnosed with a skin condition called St. Vitus disease which effects the nervous system and made it painful for people to touched him. This left him bedridden for much of his childhood and his brother would bring him Campbell's soup to his bed. Foreshadowing what was to come? I think so.All of this isolation that resulted from his disease allowed Andy to become quite the observer; you know, gave him way greater insight.
Even as a child Warhol was completely obsessed with celebrities. He wrote Shirley Temple letters over and over again until she finally sent him an autographed picture just so that he would stop writing.
Andy was obsessed with his appearance and totally superficial. He had a nose job, which was botched, and in spite of his painful disease, had his skin sanded down. He loved plastic and was not afraid to admit it. He felt no remorse for being shallow.
"I love Los Angeles. I love Hollywood. They're beautiful. Everybody's plastic, but I love plastic. I want to be plastic."
Although he was gay, he was quite asexual. He really did not have much sex which may surprise people who know the title of any of his movies such as Blow Job. The movie showed nothing except for the man's face the entire time. Here is part of it:
"Fantasy love is much better than reality love. Never doing it is very exciting. The most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet."
Andy was shot on June 3, 1968 by a woman name Valerie Solanas. The story had always went that Solanas had wanted Andy to produce her film, Up Your Ass, which he had refused to do because he claimed that it was basically pornographic and he would get arrested. When Solanas went to pick up her film, she claimed that Warhol had said he lost it, but she believed that he had stolen it. Therefore, she shot him.
However, in an article in last month's Interview Magazine, Margo Feiden revealed what really happened that day. Fieden was a playwrite prodigy producing her first Broadway play at the age of sixteen. Therefore it was no surprise that someone so desperate to have a play produced would go to her for help, which is exactly what Solanas did. __ came home to find her standing at her door, and eccentric that __ was, she let her in.
In the article, Feiden said that, "Valerie explained this play, this manifesto, and what she said was absolutely shocking. She had decided that the right way for society to go forward was to keep only the males who were absolutely necessary and commit genocide on the largest scale that ever could be imagined. And she said something so interesting to me . . . This was before, uh, test-tube babies . . .She said that there would come a time in our lifetimes when men would not be needed for procreation—that you could take the sperm and store it and you would never need males to be alive to contribute this. She said this will happen in our lifetimes."
Anyways, that article went on to say that Varlerie told Feiden that she was going to leave now and go shoot Andy. Valerie told her, “I’m going to shoot AndyWarhol now, because when I’m famous and when my play becomes famous, you’ll produce it.”
In any case, Valerie did end up shooting Andy. Feiden finally let this forty year old secret out because she was upset that she accused Andy of being a thief:
"...she did that shooting as a publicity stunt to be famous, so that I would produce her play. Why should Andy Warhol’s name, in any way, be sullied? Why should people think that she had any justification for what she did? He gave her none."
-Margo Fieden
Regardless, Andy was rushed to the hospital and pronounced dead. Then someone in the emergency room told the doctor, "hey you gotta save this guy. He's Andy Warhol, the greatest artist of our time!" So, the doctor cracked open his chest and massaged his heart and revived him.
For the full article: http://www.interviewmagazine.com/culture/history-rewrite/ You should probably read it because it explains the story much more clearly than I did...even if you could completely care less, you should still read it if only for Margo's fantastical eccentric way of wording her thoughts.
People may think of Warhol, as they may think of most Pop artists, as someone who simply took an everyday object, and reproduced an image of it. But in the end, Pop Art is so much more than that. Warhol saw objects in an entirely different perspective. He realized that nothing was new, everything had already been produced. It was now his job to take something that existed, and portray it in a way never before imagined. A new view.
For example, his Marilyn Diptych is hardly just a reproduced image of the icon done in bright colors. The dyptich iself is reminiscent of his Byzantine background. If you have ever gone into a grand and ornate Byzantine cathedral, you could only imagine the great tryptich alters Warhol must have have encountered and been awestruck by as a child.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
MMMMusic.
Are you depressed? Heartbroken? Feel like you'll simply never get over it? Well then have I got a playlist for you. Try one of these songs out to help you get the most out of your self-pity:
1. Al Green, "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?"
2. Bird and Bee, "I'm a Broken Heart"
3. Stacy Kent, "I Guess I'll Have to Change My Plan"
4. Lily Allen, "Littlest Things"
5. Joni Mitchell, "A Case of You"
6. Rilo Kiley, "Rest of My Life"
7. Stars, "Your Ex-Lover Is Dead"
8. Bob Dylan, "Don't Think Twice it's Alright"
9. Most anything by Elliot Smith
And when you're ready to rebound, but ONLY when you have successfully reached the deepest and darkest abyss of that exquisite pain that was your heart being split in two, will it be time for Sinatra's, "That's Life," or Rilo Kiley's "Breakin' Up."
1. Al Green, "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?"
2. Bird and Bee, "I'm a Broken Heart"
3. Stacy Kent, "I Guess I'll Have to Change My Plan"
4. Lily Allen, "Littlest Things"
5. Joni Mitchell, "A Case of You"
6. Rilo Kiley, "Rest of My Life"
7. Stars, "Your Ex-Lover Is Dead"
8. Bob Dylan, "Don't Think Twice it's Alright"
9. Most anything by Elliot Smith
And when you're ready to rebound, but ONLY when you have successfully reached the deepest and darkest abyss of that exquisite pain that was your heart being split in two, will it be time for Sinatra's, "That's Life," or Rilo Kiley's "Breakin' Up."
Random Thoughts for April 9, 2009
-I feel so futuristic when I date things.
-I wonder why Geppeddo from Pinocchio was so on my mind in my unconscious/hallucinatory sleep state of mind last night.
-I raged a war on ants and won.
-Fuck astrology. Mainly the horoscopes. You don't know me, outer space bastards. Stop messing with my mind.
-I hate pen marks on sneakers. So tenth grade punk/goth suburban rebellion scene. I just wrote on my shoe with pen. Stupid.
-Never settle on puppet hair. There has to be something you can do to avoid it.
The following are examples of puppet hair:
-I wonder why Geppeddo from Pinocchio was so on my mind in my unconscious/hallucinatory sleep state of mind last night.
-I raged a war on ants and won.
-Fuck astrology. Mainly the horoscopes. You don't know me, outer space bastards. Stop messing with my mind.
-I hate pen marks on sneakers. So tenth grade punk/goth suburban rebellion scene. I just wrote on my shoe with pen. Stupid.
-Never settle on puppet hair. There has to be something you can do to avoid it.
The following are examples of puppet hair:
Exhibit A) Creepy muppets have puppet hair. Obviously.
Exhibit B) Christina Ricci in Mermaids. Not the best picture but how could anyone forget that unfortunate, non-color, puppetesque hair on that poor child.
Exhibit B) Christina Ricci in Mermaids. Not the best picture but how could anyone forget that unfortunate, non-color, puppetesque hair on that poor child.
Exhibit C) Anyone from the 60's or 70's. Sorry Janis, I love you but damn your hair resembled a puppet's.
-I love the fall because it eternally perpetuates the 60's. It's weird to think about. That means that because fall is forever, the 60's are forever. Even before they even happened. Therefore, if you were in a wooded area in 1845, it would have felt like the 1960's. That shits weird.
-A post thought to the previous thought: Autumn leaves remind me of Mary Tyler Moore. I like that.
-Sucks that everything that makes us happy now will inevitably make us sad someday.
-I love the fall because it eternally perpetuates the 60's. It's weird to think about. That means that because fall is forever, the 60's are forever. Even before they even happened. Therefore, if you were in a wooded area in 1845, it would have felt like the 1960's. That shits weird.
-A post thought to the previous thought: Autumn leaves remind me of Mary Tyler Moore. I like that.
-Sucks that everything that makes us happy now will inevitably make us sad someday.
Why am I so intimidated by people? I don't even like most of them.
I love Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I could watch it over and over and over again. And I have. One of my favorite lines is towards the beginning when Joel first sees Clem, well I guess technically he had already known her, but anyways, besides the point, he thinks to himself:
"Why do I always fall in love with every woman I see that shows me the lease bit of attention?"
I feel exactly the same. And you know, it really fucking sucks. It is so completely frustrating. It really sets you up for a lot of heartbreak. See, after 21 years of living with myself, I've come to know a lot about my personality. I am extremely idealistic. I'm rarely content. My environment dictates my mood in a far too extreme nature. For example, if I'm in a library with 70's Church Rectory decor/smell for more than an hour, I will remain depressed for a week.
I walk out my door everyday hoping to meet someone. Just any kind of person. Someone who sees me and is intrigued enough to be like hmm, that person looks interesting. She looks like she's thinking about something important. I wonder what that person is all about. Needless to say, that has never happened, and it isn't like I'm all that surprssed or anything.
The shit thing about it all, is that I know if and when that day ever actually does happen, I'll fuck it up. I'm shit with people...and I thought I had come to terms with it, accepted it, moved on. But, I can't pretend I don't care. I do. My lack of communication skills has ruined far too many potential relationships. And when I use the term "relationship," I mean of all kinds. Boyfriends, girl friends, family members, teachers; the list is endless.
If I am currently friends with you, then you probably fit into one of the two categories listed below:
1. You spent large amounts of time with me against your will.
examples: You were forced to be my roommate/you are my sibling or parent
2. I met you while I was around someone who I am already currently comfortable with; aka I met you while hanging out with Archana.
I don't mind if you don't like me. Sometimes, people are just not compatible so whatev. I get that. But when people don't like me for the person that I'm not, I can't help but completely hate myself for not being able to just get the fuck out of my head and be who I am. If there's one thing I never want to be, it's "that quite girl who sure is nice but fuck is she boring." I'm not that and if you knew the half of what goes on in my head I'd blow ya mind.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Current Things I Want:
I have created this section, which will be reoccurring, to share with you the things that I want to buy, yet as an unemployed college student, I cannot. But that doesn’t mean that you guys can go out and buy them because if by some miracle I do obtain a few bucks to spend I’M the one who saw these things first. If I don’t know you then whatever, buy freely. But as a friend (this means you Archana), come on, don’t be uncool. Instead, think of this section as a guide to everything fabulous. Work off of it and buy similar pieces. If you must have an item on the list, listen, I don’t blame you, I only like best. But run it by me and maybe we could make a compromise. Like, you can get it in my size and let me borrow whenever I feel. 
Quite simply, this shoe doesn't look real. Precisely why i must have it.
Everyone should own a trench coat. Classic and practical. Rain happens man. And it happens year round.
Ever since Carrie sported those Dior Extreme pumps and dawned the fabulous belt "Roger" in the Sex and the City movie, I have been completely into studded things. Yet sadly, I own nothing to validate my new found obsession. 
Fabulous dress. It looks like oragami. And who doesn't want to look like Asian art?
Quite simply, this shoe doesn't look real. Precisely why i must have it.
Everyone should own a trench coat. Classic and practical. Rain happens man. And it happens year round.
Ever since Carrie sported those Dior Extreme pumps and dawned the fabulous belt "Roger" in the Sex and the City movie, I have been completely into studded things. Yet sadly, I own nothing to validate my new found obsession. 
Fabulous dress. It looks like oragami. And who doesn't want to look like Asian art?
Umm, if I have to explain what makes this item a must have then you shouldn't be allowed to be a person.
What's on Your Mind Philadelphia? (Septa bus driver edition)
So I’m on the dreaded C bus last week. I hate that bus. It always has the craziest of the crazy people, the smelliest of the homeless, and the wheelchairs. Oh the wheel chairs! It’s like a constant flow of them on and off on and off. Do you know how long it takes for a wheel chair to load a bus?? Well if not, jump on the C and find out. Anyways, now that I have sufficiently ensured the fact that you all think I’m a horrible person, I will continue on with my story about a bus driver who was equally as horrible...but funny. She was definitely funny. So our bus said on its banner thing that it was going to “City Hall” yet at every stop, someone would inevitably ask if it was going all the way down Broad St. or if it was going to stop at City Hall. Now I know it said “City Hall” on the bus but I don’t think that it was that outrageous of a question. My bus driver, on the other hand, thought that these people were the total epitome of stupidity for asking this. By Girard, she had begun to respond to these people by screaming at them out the door, “Are you stupid!? It says City Hall! IF YOU CAN’T READ, YOU BETTA BE ABLE TA HEAR!” Hilarious. What does that even mean? So basically, all the way from Girard to City Hall, she drove past the bus stops, sometimes not even bothering to stop, yelling out the open door, “You people are so stupid!”
I am not sure what bus this is, but it's probably the C bus. It would run into a house.
Street
I walk a lot. Sometimes when I'm walking down the street, one with a healthy amount of people on it, I wonder if the people that pass me think I'm crazy. I don't know why they would. I don't outwardly appear to be particularly strange or abnormal. But nevertheless, this thought never fails to enter my head at least twice a day. So, I usually decide to appease their accusations (or what I believe to be their accusations to be) and start rattling off my thoughts in my head:
"I'm crazy-I'm talking to myself-I want to scream.
Scream. Scream. SCREAM...at YOU!
You can't hear me but I'm talking about you to myself in my head.
LOUDLY.
Man this is so crazy.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck
ihatewalkinghome
These stupid people-cold-words.
Say random words
bus.wall.enter.enter.stop.
NO STOP.
Stop talking to yourself.
It was a game but now I can't stop. Maybe I am crazy.These stupid people made me make myself crazy.
Don't trip.
roadroad forever road
don't talk to me dont look at me i hate you i'll look back stopitstopitstopit.
Home."
I may be one of the most self-absorbed people in the world. Secretly.
"I'm crazy-I'm talking to myself-I want to scream.
Scream. Scream. SCREAM...at YOU!
You can't hear me but I'm talking about you to myself in my head.
LOUDLY.
Man this is so crazy.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck
ihatewalkinghome
These stupid people-cold-words.
Say random words
bus.wall.enter.enter.stop.
NO STOP.
Stop talking to yourself.
It was a game but now I can't stop. Maybe I am crazy.These stupid people made me make myself crazy.
Don't trip.
roadroad forever road
don't talk to me dont look at me i hate you i'll look back stopitstopitstopit.
Home."
I may be one of the most self-absorbed people in the world. Secretly.
Monday, March 30, 2009
La Mia Vita
Life is too real for me to keep my thoughts straight; too overwhelming to articulate what's going on in my head. Hence what you are now viewing: an attempt to curb my ever growing frustration. I would not only hate to deprive the world of all I have to say, but it would truly be an injustice to society. So, with no further ado, enter my brain. You're welcome.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)