Sep 1, 2009

ABOUT

I often daydream about being a rock-star; riding the bus, headphones on, listening to Sleater Kinney, playing a video in my head of me on stage at the Crystal Ballroom projecting Corin Tucker's voice.  With age I've realized that that habit of wanting something but thinking about it instead of acting on it, stems from my predisposition for obsessive compulsive reading.  I research everything before I proceed, and college has just amplified this tendency.  Reading is in fact my most used excuse...it stands between me and that novel I'll pen someday.  I'll sit down to write and say to myself, "I think I need to read Howl one more time, just to find my chi."  Howl turns into Tales of Beatnik Glory, which turns into The Beat Anthology, Lit Riffs, Thomas McGrath, The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry, and a revisit to Gravity's Rainbow for the umpteenth time.  In the end "writing" becomes me lying on my floor surrounded by old photocopied readings from the good classes, a dog eared Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung in hand, PJ Harvey blasting on my JBL...and of course, blank pages by Kate Magoc.


I started this blog to foster better writerly habits.  Healthy writerly habits (because I've definitely got the unhealthy ones down pat.)  I chose to focus on fashion because, as with reading, I am an obsessive compulsive dresser and accessorize-r.  I always want to look different which I think is a common female desire.  Most women seek an aesthetic that truly expresses their individualism.  To stand out but simultaneously fit in somewhere.


While Fashion, as an industry may place underweight models on pedestals and push trendy items that cost as much as it would to feed an entire third world country for a year, fashion itself is art.  It is a form of expression and a tool with which we can redefine beauty.  Fashion is far more than Karl Lagerfeld and Anna Wintour, Terry Richardson sex scandals and dresses that cost as much as my entire college education and then some; fashion is in the streets, on buses, and in Goodwill stores.


I'd like to note that I'm not trying to be a trend-setter, I'm not trying to regurgitate blogger trends (eh hem Acne Tacoma wedges, ladies?), and I'm not trying to be Rumi Neely (although I do adore her).  I'm just being me (ok the glamor shots are provided by my talented photographer friends, I don't usually walk around with a pout on) just being a girl who likes Jack Keruoac, beers of an IPA ilk, cooking, swimming, Metallica, thunderstorms, Penguins Hockey and road trips.  I also like turquoise jewelry, Harley Davidson boots, feathers, leather and the Southwest aesthetic; Ancient Egypt, the color blue, Pamela Love, cats, dogs, red wine, listening to my friends have entire conversations through movie quotes, the Brooklyn Bridge, Naomi Wallace, Bansky, Bjork, bad boys, John Donne, Luis Valdez, Milan Kundera, The Wizard of Oz, Radiohead, sushi, Escape from LA, Amelie, the smell of chlorine at an indoor pool, coffee, skinned knees as a result of playing too hard, Chanel, Roadhouse, the sound of an electric guitar, the sound of Lajon Witherspoon's voice, the sound of Karen Elson's voice, aviators, Timothy Olyphant, David Simon, 5" heels, WAD, Deadliest Catch, flicking off drive-by cat callers, the shade of green of my parent's back yard, black nail polish, sibling connectivity, Suzanne Ford Carafano, vintage, Daisy Lowe, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, linecooks, the 'on-stage' like feeling of being behind a bar, the West, Clint Eastwood, Blazing Saddles, Indians (by Arthur Kopit), Jean Baudrillard, Guess ads, the graininess of polaroids, dive bars, deep cuts of classic rock, Grace Slick, Anita Pallenberg, Lester Bangs, combat boots, Charles Bukowski, cowboy boots, fringe, Fringe, daisy dukes, leopard print, Wildfox Couture lookbooks, seasonless knitwear, wearing vintage fur in single digit temps, Bertolt Brecht, bridges, rivers, Victor Turner, docutheater, Junko Shimada, staying young and growing up, the expletive 'fuck,' Magic Molly, Erin Wasson, Stevie Knicks,  Lula, i-D, Empire Records, mismatching, photography, Levi's ads, Americana, head scarfs, Hell's Angels, Andy Warhol, Alexander Pope, William Blake, thigh high anything, Sports Center, swim meets on TV, Greek yogurt, wearing my sister's jewelry, Dr. Carr and his obsession with Evalina and the genre of epistolary novels, the feeling of handing in 25 plus page term papers and following the 'hand in' by succumbing to my love for the taste of Marlboro Reds and Maker's Mark, dancing, The Lava Lounge on Fridays, Sexy Lexi Rebert, drinking beers on my back porch at 4am, yogalates, running far and long, ebay, wearing my brother's clothes, love & freedom, the way Kate Moss dresses for festivals, Edie Sedgwick, going up steps two at a time, the internet, mascara, sports bras, Zac's guacamole, Janis Joplin, Pheobe Philo, Christophe Decarnin, organization (to a degree), bad-ass action flicks, Jason Statham, Randy Couture (and not because his last name is Couture), Pittsburgh, listening to the crazy utterances of people who ride the 54C, motorcycles, kissing, Abbey Lee Kershaw, Aussies, Romance was Born, Stolen Girlfriends Club,  water lilies, tattoos, graffiti, scruffy looking men, playing in the rain, swimming in the rain, swimming at night, swimming as fast as I can, nose rings, tongue studs, anything studded, pizza, the Wu Tang Clan, pad Thai, Almost Famous, Henry David Thoreau, Theodor Adorno, Micheal Hardt, Antonio Negri, Luke Skywalker, ewoks, Jedis and The Force, riding in cars and listening to music, wearing too many rings, avant-garde (whatever exactly that means), postmodernism (also, whatever exactly that means), House of Leaves, Jonathan Lethem, Siddhartha, The Bhagavad Gita,  Style.com, crop tops, the words 'summer afternoon,' come to think of it pretty much any word, getting dressed, "suiting up," The Cranberries, leather interiors, Boyd & Blair vodka, asymmetry, The New Yorker, The Onion, Mark Twain, Catch-22, Shantaram, psychedelia, Paris, Henry Miller, Spanish Moss Vintage, full moons, stars & stripes, Haight-Ashbury, revolutionary outlaws, Babooshka, Band on the Run, gypsies, Tom Petty, deranged poets and acid headed hipsters, South Park, Butters, The Vintage Grand Prix, my dad's 1968 El Camino, the 1999 Oldsmobile Aurora that saved my life,  gothic architecture, the stories of drug crazed dropouts, sex, Jimi Hendrix, bonfires, the anonymity of being brunette, the glamor of being bleach blonde, cayenne pepper, spicy food, cheesecake, Lake Erie, going makeupless, wearing lots of eyeliner, the sound of keys in my front door at around 6:30pm, bacon cheeseburgers, feta cheese, Breaking Bad, JustifiedA Star is Born (the version with Judy Garland), Judy Garland, my six year old self's DIYed ruby slippers and accompanying request to be called Dorothy, the Olympics, Penny Lane, Richard Pryor, Mark Wahlberg movies, Marianne Faithful, big old houses, seafood, grilling, April 20th 2009, remembering the good and the bad of Summerlea, no longer being in highschool and specifically marching band, oversized blouses, dog-tags, girl drummers, Bassnectar, Greg Gillis, third wave feminism, stemless martini glasses, napkins, Alexander Wang, Daul Kim, Christiane Amanpour, watching Gilmore Girls with my big sis, hanging out on golf courses at night, looking at stars, skulls, tall dark and handsome, muscles, being challenged, modeling, agent provocateur, The West Wing, satire, Culture Clash, Karen O, Heidi Slimane, highways and byways, Simon & Garfunkel, America, small towns and big cities, cemeteries, deserts, Holden Caulfield, Atticus Finch, Elizabeth Bennet, fireworks, fiction narratives, creative non-fiction, stream of consciousness writing, the cathartic satisfaction of making this list, the fact that I want to continue...the fact that, if you've stayed with my babble this long, you probably can't stereotype me, and you might kinda know me.  After all, we are what we like, right?

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