ORACULAR SPECTACULAR, INDEED

'NUFF SAID

xx

EDUCATE YOURSELF HERE and hit 'em up here for the sickest vids - these you wanna strap on some garters for, keep your socks on your pansy feet. TIME TO PRETEND//WEEKEND WARS//ELECTRIC FEEL. Be kind, pay for what you like.

MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT
MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT
MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT
MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT MGMT

and SCHOOL OF SEVEN BELLS
Only Brooklyn, kids, only Brooklyn.

Also, plugging Mr Has-it-easy like I haven't done in awhile, the Rawjak October mix is up. Have a listen, this is what we'll be trippin' to in winter in Zee Jr.'s West Village flat...warm beats to make up for cold feet.
On to pressing matters of sweetness and (f)light...it's Homecoming weekend. Lameass UPitt kids have Sno-painted all the transparent glass surfaces within 5 districts, I reckon. It's like Christmas come early, if Christmas colors were blue and yellow and Santa's mark were a pawprint. Fight or flight, it all rests on whether I manage to get my MGD and oven pies without obstruction tonight. If one more sweaty Pitt kid yells BESSIE FOR HOMECOMING QUEEN in my face, so help me God, I'm out of here...for the weekend at least.

All cameras have been stowed and existence been off film thus far this Fall...I'm thinking it has something to do with Skylar, Alina, Alex, Kim, etc. being gone. Maybe I'll venture out and pick up that Holga and perhaps one other cheap contraption tonight. Seems like it's time. If nothing else, the quick season transition is worth documenting. They say we're going to have an early winter; snow next week, apparently. NEXT WEEK. In the words of Alex, "Well, I never...". You should all be here. All.

AA's doing an open casting at the main warehouse this weekend; or is it next? Anyhow, hopefully Bert & Calvin & the rest of you SoCal kids will give it a go so we can all have a good laugh. Picture it. "Bertrand wears our Unisex Flex Fleece Hoodie in Melange Blue and our Big Tank in Violet"...yo ho ho and a bucket of laughs. Do it, kids, do it for spandex. SPANDEX FOREVER

What else, what else...mmmkay so in Klancher's class the other day Lauren told me that this Sophomore Dramaturg wrote most of her 20 page thesis for J.Ball while she was on acid. That blows my mind. I mean, it sure as hell blew hers. And apparently the paper blew J.Ball's brains out too so...hm. Makes you think. Perhaps we should all pay Cezanne & Dali a little respect, guys; what business do we have thinking we can encapsulate their genius on paper without a little expanded awareness? Give the old fogies a little credit. Take A for an A. Haha, I hate my sense of humor. But really, it's not all jokes. It took me all of three minutes sitting at Jason's workspace in the Maggie Mo studio to get a truly heady whiff of Eau de A-Bomb. Just a little food for thought...maybe we're going about this academic business all wrong. Dramaturgs and design kids likely know best, no?

Annika just read that last bit over my shoulder and grunted "stick to space cakes". Hahaha, we speak for all the sugar-loving softcore pansy asses out there.

German officers listened to Wagner in the morning and headed out to the gas chambers after brunch; and so the documents of culture were the documents of barbarism. Yay or nay? Has culture's utopian/ennobling capacity long been proven a sham? Perhaps we are all rooting around for a prize that will never be; perhaps the human race should have taken a cue from Auschwitz, and we should all stop cheating ourselves and mourn the death of The Ideal.

But then maybe that's all bull, and all of us CFA schmucks aren't totally wasting our time.

Might as well listen to MGMT with a cold MGD while you ponder it, I say.

xx

Snaps for Focus The Nation and Sustainable Earth! Yay for that good ol' organic feeling. I hope people keep their buttons...and no one is mean and kicks the stakes out of the ground. But still, possible disasters notwithstanding, snaps snaps snaps. There is good yet in the folksy-hippie East coast to balance off all the inherent evils. I decided this over my morning chazz. Yes, chazz, smartasses. Dean who works at the Kiva Han's on Craig is my newfound friend, we bonded over the fact that this semester I am in there twice a day (which is about twice as much as in spring) and he's there, well, all day (waiting for term to start at Carlow). And okay yeah also maybe possibly because I order the same thing every day twice a day with the string of specifications in the same sequence. Yeah, okay, har-dee-har har. So anyhow we mutually shortened it to chazz which is really an inspired short take on "chai" with all my neurotic instructions that basically amount to "all that jazz". I'm working on downing no espressos this fall. I figured if I'm going to coddle this caffeine dependency then at least I can attempt some semblance of decency by sipping it over a respectable period of time rather than downing it with such...palpable desperation. So it all works out. I wake up fifteen minutes earlier, I sit at the counter with the hole chopped in the middle for the tree trunk to get all up in there (they grow trees inside Kiva's. Mmmmhm I know.) and nurse my biodegradable beverage cup for ten and make delightfully mundane (occasionally cerebral) conversation with Dean. And no one's held up in the queue for that extra fifty-odd seconds while I describe my desired drink in painful detail. Everyone's happy. Because come on, everyone knows that no one wants to know what you're drinking. Not before 9 in the morning. 

So right now I'm thinking renewable materials for at least half of the Lunar Gala lines (no point asking the Koreans but I'm almost positive the white kids will cave to some bullying and moralistic blackmail) and also...not relatedly, two things that are topmost on my Luxury WANT IT list: gypsy water and a flat skin carpet. Mmmm.

Doesn't the word pointillist remind you of the word pointless?

It's an incredibly stupid association, just plain dumb, but I kept cracking up at it when we were talking about technique with Prof. B today, geez God those were multiple oh fuck me moments right there.

Skylar reminded me about Polanski a couple days ago when I was too __ all up in there to watch anything. Once I remembered halfway into the morning I dammed up the warmest corner of the room today with throws to watch his master work again. Give Adrien Brody the chance to make you sting and thrill (in different places) and he will. 

Anyway, for lack of...um, any remnant of critical thought ability I'm going to do a notcot and plug some lifestyle pick-me-ups.

1 movie you should watch this year: The Go-Getter (watch, or rather, listen for Zooey Deschanel in particular)

and since we're on Zooey Deschanel, 1 issue of Nylon you should read: the one with the cover feature on her rockin' the Chloe dress...I think it was Chloe. And I think it was last month's, or the one the month before. 

A few breakout lines you should be watching (fall'08/spring'09): Slow & Steady Wins the Race, Vena Cava, VPL, Shades of Greige. Very unfettered; it seems like no one's trying too hard these few seasons.

T-shirts you are allowed to blow more than the requisite amount on: anything Oak, or from Free City's Artists Wanted line

1 distinction you should be able to make: houndstooth | checks | ikat. Come on.

A band you shouldn't give up on yet: Husky Rescue. Wait for it...wait for it...

Splurge on: neck candy. Short, iconic, statement. Ditch the charm-on-long-chain - it's not getting old, it's been on its deathbed for at least a year coming. I won't even mention dog tags.

1 footwear suggestion: oxfords abound, so give your Chucks a rest, for Chrissake. If you must, there's f-troupe, YMC, PAM... 

Good spandex: Brian Lichtenberg, AA.

1 workspace to run your eyeball's fingers over: Alexander Wang, hel-lo.

The erratic cold's coming but we clipped our own wings so we can sit on doorsteps/fire escapes with joints too sticky and Camels too dry. This, while the people I would like to have in the same state but are instead on the same continent as I am are all, incidentally, pounding cement in places where the weather is more predictable. To Alex in Wisconsin, Skylar back at Interlochen, ZJ in the only city that doesn't need introduction, Dave in the Desert, Bert & Liz & the Dings & crew in SoCal, Alina in Texas, Eddie in Boston, the Trishes in Boston, Melissa in Chicago, Steven in Lincoln.

And Kimillionaire in transition for seven hundred and fifty three years and six hundred more. I'd have charted the route with pushpins but those ran out so now I'm using Sharpie x's.

Better watch your soul, it'll leave you like a hundred bucks

I woke up this morning still a little haunted by Marie-Therese as Picasso's l'amour fou. The Surrealists knew what they were talking about w.r.t. the boulevards of Paris, but did they know the streets and shop windows would turn up such a face? And of the dialectic of perversity and chastity that would follow?  

Also, I spent, I would say, four or five whole minutes flicking things from the fire escape landing to the roof of the tech-y building next door. Small, harmless things. The grooves running lengthwise along the roof are just deep enough to make small things like that disappear from where I'm standing. It's DIY Bermuda-triangling your stuff. One day someone will come to sweep out the grooves and all the paraphernalia will surface; Q-tips, cigarette butts, cardboard corner of a Cracker Jack flip top box, a small collection of hair pins - it will be gloriously disappointing. I hope I'm not there when the deed is done.

Oh, also since we're going into ADD territory, Bert called this morning while I was mid-flick to tell me about Lovefest SF. Kaskade, lovebeads and feather boas in Frisco. I was the requisite amount of jealous, Bert was unasked-for amounts nostalgic in drawing parallels with the night mid-summer we sweated to Inquisitive. Um and then I had to go for Klancher's 10am.

But summer sentimentality is a bitch. It's a whirling dervish on the floor who borrows your breath when the first beat drops and doesn't remember to return it til after the night is over. Oh wait, I'm sorry, that's called a Bertrand. My bad. (xx Bertots be good don't make the girls cry)

And whaaaaat is up with all the new cereal packaging? General Mills must be having a general lapse in general brain function. What will I do with all these fucking glass jars?

 

Zee Jr. has long been put in a cardboard box and shipped off to NYU; he has at present been unpacked, unwrapped, installed. Milestone event, marked off on all our virtual calendars for...well, awhile. Which signals...the requisite entry about Fall Semester '08 - I'm two months late. ((belated) Welcome to the United Shithole that is America, Toaster Boy. Thanksgiving is when the magic happens, clean up the rabbit hole before your sister& I descend.)

Fall is a cheater, it lasted all of a flash; a few sweater changes and barely an afternoon to wallow in leaf piles. (I exaggerate.) Now it's the season of trepidation. We come out of our third floor rooms onto shared fire escapes every morning with bare arms cautiously outstretched; goose-pimples tell all, we are all thermostats minus the mercury. It is ritual; the visual Biblical reference just kills me.

Eddie shot my picture for what was supposed to be his personal portfolio and ended up in the Campus Chic portion of the Tartan. Instant just-add-water fame? I think not. If anything, it is a lesson in (body) aesthetics; 90's facial expressions don't go with van Noten-inspired silhouettes. (Did'ja catch that? Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of stealth-self-praise. Add a dash of self-deprecation and you're set.) Yet, I try, I try. YEAH THANKS FOR NOTHING EDDIE. Style ho'. 

Aaaand..just like that, it's 6:16PM and my post-Impressionism class is at 6:30PM. Mad, unsightly dash to follow shortly. I congratulate myself.

xx I'll pick this up again