where's my salt when I need it?

Tonight I experienced something new. That something new is Pepper Spray. My roommate and besty Betty thought it was a good idea to "test out" her pepper spray on our porch. This resulted in predictable waftage, followed by a coughing and vomiting attack complete with violet snot. Rapists? You had it coming. Nevertheless, as I sit here breathing in the embers of attempted assault, I still have found the time to both enjoy Man Man's takeaway show and google the word "pepper". Clearly. Now excuse me as I continue to vomit up our precautions.

spoilerz: diamond & beth are all things superior

Psst. Secret time. I actually do not have any taste in music. Besides listening to opera by myself or occasionally attending a local function to support my friends, my music knowledge is difficult to qualify.
To make my life a little bit easier, I let glamf do most of the work for me.
When I am in the mood to search for any new music, I also have a simple route. I scoot on over, using my handy browser bookmark tool, to Gangster Legs, a music blog written by the most trustworthy of hip twenty-somethings on the east coast. You want some hip hop? Have a swig of the new DOOM. Oh, you were in the mood for funk? Dig deep into this obscure 1970's trio. Bard's latest hype-machine? You got it.
These cats have free downloads almost daily!

What I'm saying is, it's the Baskin Robbin's of all flavors funky.
Don't believe me, enjoy one of the latest gems to be posted.

jump out of your jeans

I miss Bard.

or: lemonade

When life gives you lemons, squint your eyes until they look like apples.
One Big Apple.


This is the only photograph of Paul and I in New York City.
This is going to change.

So it's official, my two loves are joining me on a trip to New York in a month. It will be nice to combine my two anchors here with the life that I miss. I have a few gems, a few blondes, a few artists lurking in the woods. I cannot wait to see their troublemaking grins and to hear their heart-stopping laughter. We will be knee-deep in nostalgia (err inebriation) at Bard College, then we are planning to haunt the city streets on Halloween and after Betty peaces back to the desert, Paul and I will soak in as much of Print Week that we can. Best week of the year yet.

I have spent small pockets of time in the city with these beautiful people and I cannot wait to continue sharing with them that state I love so dearly.
Paint me ecstatic.

hate those who told us we could only be beautiful

Women hate other women because it keeps us busy from confronting the real structures that ensure we remain passive, subservient consumers. This is not accidental. Yet it is, in my opinion, one of the greatest changes that needs to be made in order to create a new dynamic between genders. So please, stop hating each other. Stop calling each other fat. Stop calling each other sluts. Stop treating each other's bodies as public domain, open to scrutiny. Stop tearing each other apart over boys.
Start fighting for women. Start wincing when women's bodies are slashed apart on the silver screen instead of dismissing it as movie magic. Start complimenting the women around you, but try to go beyond words like "pretty"...how about a "creative" or "witty"? Start speaking up when those around you find other's private lives appropriate to speculate on. Start smiling at each other. Start being on each other's sides.

Please. Women already have it pretty hard. Let's do our part to make this journey easier for each other.

Vintage poster via SocImages.

a cenar teco m'invitasti e son venuto!

During the summer of 2008, I took Paul Glover to see Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro at the Santa Fe Opera. It was his first opera, and one of my favorite performances yet. Afterwards we were both elated with the production, the atmosphere and each other. We walked out and saw a poster advertising the 2009 season. Don Giovanni. Still on a Mozart high, we giggled with excitement at the possibility of attending that performance in a years time.
The summer of 2009 came, and we found ourselves broke and lazy. "When are we going to get up to Santa Fe?" was a sentence we muttered every now and then, both of us trying to ignore our lack of finances.

Well, two nights ago I decided to just buy us standing room tickets. I've done standing room at a few opera houses, and it truly never bothered me. Plus, why shell out more than 300 dollars for seats when we could pay 14 dollars each?

True to our gracelessness, Paul and I were running late. Salmon and goat cheese in tow, we snacked away on our would-be tailgate dinner as I sped to make the performance. True to form, we made it with very little time to spare.

My pockets began to swell. Since the performace was not sold out, they ushered the standing room section to the seated rows. We were able to sit in the middle of the opera house, a few rows behind the orchestra. Seats worth hundreds of dollars were ours for fourteen. Honey, that's a night at the pictures. Bowling. A particularly indulgent trip to noodle neighborhood.

The Santa Fe Opera has the most elegant, unique, downright beautiful set design I have ever seen. I enjoy red velvet and monstrous chandeliers, of course. But this open air opera, with the overture timed with the sunset, just makes my heart melt.

For years I have daydreamed about set designs for my favorite operas. I've made illustrations, written descriptions and even constructed a pop-up book due to this desire. It's an artform I try to involve my non-musical self in anyway possible. Well, the famous Commendatore finale of Don Giovanni completely overwhelmed my most creative dreams. It was not Party City tacky like some I've seen, it was not ultra modern to the point of obnoxious, it was nothing but perfect. White lighting against a red brick set, illuminated ghostly cabinets, golden statues of hands and lifeless marionettes. The Commendatore himself was brilliant in white with a blood splattered uniform. Trap doors made his apparitions even more haunting, as he stalked the set demanding either Don Giovanni's apology or his soul. The demonic chorus appeared subtlely with candles in tow.
It was breathtaking, beautiful and terrifying. I didn't know whether to scream, cry or squel with delight.
So I did all three behind my clasped palm.

Since I obviously can't share photos of that fantastic performance, here are some of us looking cute.


Best boyfriends yet.




Dapper and ill, literally.

song of the year

christian fear and socialism

Okay, so this is the Conservative's answer to Shepard Fairey. Sure. Putting aside any confusing racial message, I must ask: Did this designer even see The Dark Knight? Anarchism and Socialism aren't related in anyway possible. As The Dark Knight's #1 fan, I am both confused, offended and nevertheless amused.
When Betty and I drove by a gas station and saw this posted, I demanded she pull over so I could rip it down. I mean. Do NOT use MY favorite movie of all time to push your wacky agenda. On that note, this immense amount of anger coming from the Right astounds me. I mean what would their #1 say? Let's take a look:

The Pharisees went off and made a plan to trap Jesus with questions. Then they sent to him some of their disciples and some members of Herod's party. "Teacher," they said, "We know that you tell the truth. You teach the truth about God's will for man, without worrying about what people think, because you pay no attention to a man's status. Tell us, then, what do you think? Is it against our Law to pay taxes to the Roman Emperor, or not?"

Jesus, however, was aware of their evil plan, and so he said, "You hypocrites! Why are you trying to trap me? Show me the coin for paying the tax!"

They brought him the coin, and he asked them, "Whose face and name are these?"
"The Emperor's," they answered.

So Jesus said to them, "Well, then, pay to the Emperor what belongs to the Emperor, and pay to God what belongs to God."

When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.
-Matthew 22:15-22

UNIVERSAL HEALTH CARE.
Have any of these frantic, so-called "Christian" conservatives that are tearing apart town meanings in fits of anger actually read the Gospels?
I have. And I consider myself agnostic, eternally curious, but agnostic. Nevertheless, I maintain that reading the Bible is one of the most socially responsible (and downright fascinating) acts of learning that one can participate in.
I think it's imperative to share these things written in the Bible, because they are illuminating and they present a liability to the side which claims to wield the Holy Truth.
While it's rather pointless to assume these radicals could even define "socialism", I must exclaim:

THE MOST BASIC TENANT OF CHRISTIANITY IS SOCIALISM. COMMUNISM. LOVE.
Label it what you will, the sharing of resources in order to assist the most needy is what. Jesus. fucking. said.

Being selfless and helping the needy comes at a fucking price. In this case: taxes. I wish every "Christian" in this country would take some time to reflect on the LOVE THY NEIGHBOR message and truly ask themselves the question they don't hesitate to plaster their car bumpers with: WWJD?
It definitely would NOT be allowing THIS to continue.

"Jesus looked straight at him with love and said, "You need only one thing. Go and sell all you have and give the money to the poor, and you will have all the riches in heaven; then come and follow me." When the man heard this, gloom spread over his face, and he went away sad, because he was very rich.
Jesus looked around his disciples and said to them, How hard it will be for rich people to enter the Kingdom of God!"

The disciples were shocked at these words, but Jesus went on to say, "My children, how hard is is to enter the Kingdom of God! It is much harder for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God than for a camel to go through the eye of a needle."
-Mark 10:17-23

It's easy to call yourself a Christian.It is much harder to actually live what you preach, and share what you take for granted.
READ THE FUCKING BIBLE. If not because you're responsible, do it at least to call people on their bullshit.

or: the weather, men and capitalism

Beauty is social control. Hair, being one of the most malleable features at a women’s disposal, is symbolic of this effect. Hair is personal. Hair is public. Hair is political. Most of all, hair – or more specifically, the way in which American women choose to style their hair – is a display of meaning. It is one of the more visible and changeable declarations of gender. It assists the public from differentiating between genders and it offers a sliding scale of both femininity and masculinity. This defining scale is often used to allocate respect, gain social status and inevitably, detract worth. Yet, this display of meaning is constantly evolving along with the political movements, social movements and eras in which they occupy.
Hair, similar to the rest of the choices we make in our appearances, does not exist in a social vacuum. The way in which we style our hair denotes social status and meaning. It is a reflection of not only who we are in society, but of what society demands us to be.

Plus, it's really hot outside.

Diamond is forever

In line with her lifestyle as an edgy, broke youngster living in New York this summer, my besty Emily Diamond is currently interning for Vice Magazine. Her latest article explores her favorite things: photography, cute boys and America.

Enjoy!

the white man's struggle

I've been following Sotomayor's hearings and the outright display of white anxiety over "reverse racism" is astounding. The idea that people (especially women) of color are the oppressors is so absurd it infuriates me. When was the last time a white male suffered from any form of institutionalized prejudice? Now, as women and people of color begin to fill coveted positions of power (Executive and Judicial branches, anyone?), white men like Pat Buchanan are shitting themselves all over the news. I imagine these historical power shifts are as terrifying to some as they are exciting for others. At least their desire to maintain hegemony is on display, so hopefully it will be taken note of and challenged.

To be fair, it is frustrating that all the Supreme Court positions keep going to Latinas. Wait....



Last time I checked, loyalty to the law and fairness were not mutually exclusive from being tough. But ohh she's a woman! That means she must be a bitch!
It's probable that Sotomayor has grappled with this condescension before and clearly, she knows how to address it with extreme calm. It would be so difficult not to point out his bullshit. I find her patience very admirable.
Did anyone really expect this to proceed in any other fashion? I suppose we ought to annotate this as concisely as possible, talk openly about the powers at play and not be scared of hurting the white man's ego.

In the meantime, LOL.


cartoon via Feministing.

the lesson

treating people the way you want to be treated is the most difficult thing you can do.

porgi, amor, qualche ristoro

goodnight

precious

I'm off to go dancing in Brooklyn tonight and tomorrow we're printshop-hopping. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this gem. It is probably the single most genius video I've seen since SLOTHS!

we was all endangered charms

I finally decided to blog. Perhaps it was becoming too silly to live my own life vicariously through Betty and Diamond/Beth. I'll take up the self-indulgent, narrative torch too. Plus, I love talking about myself. I love telling stories. And despite my efforts to keep all my latest charms to myself, I think a sharing outlet is actually a very lovely idea.

This weekend Betty and I partied with my friend Leon and his clowns in Brooklyn until the sun rose. We hopped around to a party at the Masonic Temple. Ice sculptures and fire breathers. 

They projected silent films on the wall while djs constantly rotated on and off stage.

PBR and local candy.

Betty took a nap. I lurked nearby and was content dancing by myself. 

Dawn snuck up on Betty and I cuddli

ng underneath a fox fur. We giggled alongside a ukelele and I expressed my great admiration for the statue of liberty in the distance. 

When Betty visits, an odd thing happens. Since we talk so often, there is rarely a sense of nostalgia or sadness. Instead, our visits tend to be brimming with nothing more than silly energy. I cannot wait to prance around the city with her again. I'll try to have a slice waiting for you, circus in tow.