Again, media trying to turn the basic facts of ny life into a sellable commodity. Kill yourself, Jay Z, stop saying nigger, get some basic respect for women, and go back to bed.
yeah Yeah I'm out that Brooklyn. Now I'm down in Tribeca. Right next to DeNiro But I'll be hood forever I'm the new Sinatra And since I made it here I can make it anywhere (Yeah they love me everywhere) I used to cop in Harlem All of my Dominicanos (Hey yo) Right there off of Broadway Brought me back to that McDonalds Took it to my stash spot 560 State Street Catch me in the kitchen like Simmons whipping Pastry Cruising down 8th street Off-white Lexus Driving so slow (but BK, it's from Texas!!) Me I'm out that BedStuy Home of that boy Biggie now I live on Billboard and I brought my boys with me Say what up to Ta-ta Still sipping Mai Tais Sitting courtside Knicks and Nets give me high-5 Nigga, I be Spiked out I could trip a referee ...tell by my attitude that I'm MOST DEFINITELY FROM...
[Alicia Keys] New York!!!! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of, There's nothing you can’t do, Now you're in New York!!! These streets will make you feel brand new, the lights will inspire you, Let's hear it for New York, New York, New York
[Jay-Z] I made you hot nigga, Catch me at the X with OG at a Yankee game, shit I made the Yankee hat more famous than a Yankee can, you should know I bleed Blue, but I ain't a crip tho, but I got a gang of niggas walking with my clique though, welcome to the melting pot, corners where we selling rocks, Afrika bambaataa shit, home of the hip hop, yellow cab, gypsy cab, dollar cab, holla back, for foreigners it ain't fitted act like they forgot how to act, 8 million stories out there and they're naked, city it's a pity half of y’all won’t make it, me I gotta plug a special and I got it made, If Jeezy's payin LeBron, I’m paying Dwayne Wade, 3 dice cee-lo 3 card marley, Labor Day parade, rest in peace Bob Marley, Statue of Liberty, long live the World Trade, long live the king yo, I’m from the Empire State thats… Welcome to the bright light..
[Jay-Z] Lights is blinding, girls need blinders or they can step out of bounds quick, the side lines is blind with casualties, who sip the lite casually, then gradually become worse, don’t bite the apple Eve, caught up in the in crowd, now you're in-style, and in the winter gets cold en vogue with your skin out, the city of sin is a pity on a whim. good girls gone bad, the city's filled with them, Mommy took a bus trip and now she got her bust out, everybody ride her, just like a bus route, Hail Mary to the city your a Virgin, and Jesus can’t save you life starts when the church ends, came here for school, graduated to the high life, ball players, rap stars, addicted to the limelight, MDMA got you feeling like a champion, the city never sleeps better slip you a Ambien
[Alicia Keys] One hand in the air for the big city, Street lights, big dreams all looking pretty, no place in the World that can compare, Put your lighters in the air, everybody say yeaaahh come on, come, yeah,
Having been born and having lived in the grand old big apple and raised in what's "affectionately" known as the 8th borough (NJ), I'm pretty sick and tired of seeing yuppies and college students try to blend in with the general populace of NYC (as if the original populace was even around anymore). Kiddies, doing the following doesn't make you look like a New Yorker, just the fake scum that you are:
People in other cities wait for the lights to change to cross the street, not having the "devil may care" attitude of the quote-unquote tough, badass, hard New York citizens. This is partly true - I've been to L.A., Miami, Boston, D.C., Cleveland - people wait. That being said, WALKING IN FRONT OF CARS DOES NOT MAKE YOU COOL/TOUGH. People who are actual New Yorkers don't pay attention to the cross walk symbols because our avenues/streets run in one direction and therefore do not merit the attention required at La Cienega, Calle Ocho, and Pennsylvania Avenue. If there is a car within 60 feet and you're crossing one lane, you go. If a taxi is 15 feet away from you, has the green light and right of way, and is going pretty fast, stepping out into traffic (as one less-than-street-savvy NYU student recently attempted) isn't cool, it's flat-out retarded. To anyone who takes issue with my political correctness - I do not care.
2. Wearing Black -
Oh god, you're wearing black, skinny jeans, and some kind of pathetic "reworked" (read: knitted, restyled, or otherwise less-ballsy) motorcycle jacket. I'm so afraid, you must be REALLY tough. Do you really think we don't see your blow out, your highlights, your makeup, your Gap jeans, your Guess top, your Forever 21 bag, your H&M accessories, your Victoria's Secret underwear, your Steve Madden shoes, your Nikes, your Adidas jacket, your London Fog umbrella, your Guido Palau haircut, your Chanel handbag, your Kova & T leggings, your Starbucks coffee, your Lucky Strikes, your Bic lighter, your Blackberry? People used to wear black in New York city because they had dark fucking souls and because it's the chicest thing since Diana Vreeland and because they listened to terrible music while smoking Galoises and drinking espresso (NOT pronounced "EXpresso," philistine). I don't care what Teen Vogue, Anna Wintour, and all the rest tell you - we can still see your conformist Abercrombie souls and we still hate you.
3. Having a Hard Attitude
People here who want to blend in or look cool ignore the crazies and the street people, even though they are visibly terrified and/or shocked by them. Dude, if you were really so used to this, you wouldn't be so obviously disturbed by, or hardened against, helping out someone who's been completely destroyed by our system. Instead of ignoring the sad old woman asking for change on the subway, middle aged black dude without any teeth singing blues on the Metropolitan Museum steps, or facial-tatted street kids on Second Avenue while rushing back to your Finnish Modern Design apartment (with Urban Outfitters artwork, PB Teen rugs, and some "clever" bullshit i dont feel like thinking of right now), why don't you forgo like, three ciggarettes, and do a little good for humanity? And seriously, theres nothing more obvious than when some homeless schiz person scares you by jumping out of an alley and then you try to put on this cool facade like "yeah whatever I'm a tough New Yorker if I can make it here I can make it anywhere I'm not shocked by anything Mommy please bring me back to Westchester/Nassau County/New Jersey" look.
4. Talking Loud on the Subway
Teenagers, and twenty/thirtysomethings, who want to look really AWESOME talk really loudly about what's going on in their lives/what cool party with a celebrity "dj" they went to/where they're going to spend money/whatever their goddamn personal business is, on the subway. NOTE: I am not impressed. I overheard some soulless yuppies on the 4 talking about "Hanging out in the L.E.S." and I almost throttled them. Don't you need to tend to your young children instead of snorting blow and pretending to understand conceptual art? Worst of all, absolute, absolute worst, is hearing you talk about "New York" as if it were some kind of far-off idea where Brittany Murphy kisses dudes under sheets of Egyptian cotton and anyone gives a shit about you. Please refrain from explaining the social rules of New York City or how it's changed to your visiting friends from, like, Akron. I'm sure they're wonderful people (probably more interesting than you, in fact), but your smug posturing and just ridiculously superficial understanding of this place infuriates me.
Well, I'm at college. OCD hates an interruption or change, so I'm struggling with this a lot... not to mention my man cutting me out of his life. Completely.
The good news is, I'm not even remotely attracted to anyone here... making it easier to just focus on being single, doing well in school, and getting over that boy. I can't even tell you how much I want to cry when I think about all the miles I logged on Route 46, or when I smell Camel filters or Brut, or hear Ghoul, or think about 9/11 truth...
Leaving home was a lot harder than I expected, too. My parents are keeping in touch, but I miss my brother so much. He's going to be sixteen, and I don't want to miss him growing up. I miss home, I miss Jersey, I miss my friends. High school was moderately boring, but safe. I guess this is a good way to grow.
The outfit post; a common phenomenon in today's "blogosphere," kiddies, not just a western frontier trade center for all of your tack, rifle, and jerky needs. Most often seen in the blogs of young women between the ages of 17-29, in which the designer "steals" (? Should clothing really be so expensive and fetishized that finding something which does not break the figurative or literal bank feel like stealing?!?!) are matched with the token awkward-chic thrift store/random vintage "finds" to create a visually interesting, although not entirely original, style.
Haha, just kidding there, I really do love reading fashion blogs because, let's face it, all my clothes are black and navy and inconspicuous; after an extended flirtation with wild, crazy clothes (crazy prints, leggings, weird shoes, etc.), I just felt costumey and uncomfortable and bad. So now all I wear is like, black skinny jeans and tee shirts every day. Add a scarf, docs, and dad sweater in the winter; subtract these and add flip flops in the summer. That's basically it.
OCD can be manifested as discomfort in clothing, particularly for children. Because obsessive compulsive disorder affects issues relevant to one's age, a seven year old will probably not harbor excessive worries about contracting AIDS or being hit by a car. Rather, as in my case, a kid can fixate on bumps in shoes, wrinkled socks, itchy tights, etc. I remember dressing up to go to church in white stockings, a floral dress, and patent shoes, then RIPPING off the tights, literally, the moment I left the building. I would go to buy shoes and try on fifteen or sixteen pairs, feeling gargantuan bumps and lumps in every pair. I've basically gotten over this, but I still prefer my clothing to be simple and relaxed.
One of my biggest pet peeves is complicated outfits - clothes that don't quite fit, blazers that constrict movement, leggings that fall off your butt. I absolutely adore scarves because having that something around your neck is so comforting - it's like being in a private cocoon, somehow.
Jeans are far and away the only thing I will put on my lower half, except the occasional pencil skirt. They are just the only thing that suits my roof-climbing, pool-hopping, adventure-seeking lifestyle. Who wants to climb anything in a skirt, or leggings, or khakis? The pair I like the most are these Kill City jeans I got on sale at Urban Outfitters, although I'm pretty adept at pegging the legs of regular jeans with the old sewing machine.
American Apparel tee shirts. Do I have to say any more? The tri-blend raglan (although its a pain to wash because it shrinks if you're not careful) in tri-black; the Sebastian Tellier Sexualitee shirt, size +1, in black; the viscose dolman sleeve tee, in, you guessed it, black. That's what I'm comfortable in, because the fabrics are soft, the shapes are sexy and more flattering than a basic shirt, and because I know they are made with fair labor.
Doc Martens - I wanted these for ages but I couldn't deal with the prices, especially because a lot of the new ones aren't made in England anymore and aren't the best quality. I hung in there and got a pair of construction-style ones at No Relation Vintage in New York City (1st street between 12th and 13th - or is it 11th and 12th?). They were 20 bucks, they were made in England, and they are legit. Other than that, I have a pair of gladiator sandals, a pair of converse, and these wonderful but shameful Jessica Simpson black leather studded flats.
Scarves - I have two moroccan cotton ones originally used for turbans, an Hermes silk one (a wonderful graduation present), and a ton of old ones from my grandparents, mother, and thrift/garage sales. I can knit now as well, so hopefully I'll have a chunky red knit one soon.
DAD SWEATERS - this is the most integral, important item in my entire wardrobe. This is the piece de resistance. Brooks Brothers, or any other random dad brand, men's pullovers. My dad started giving his to me when they got holes, because he knew I was weird and wouldn't care. In a small, they are slightly baggy. Mediums and larges, however, dwarf a diminutive female form and take on the drapey, architectural bagginess of Ann Demeulemeester or Margiela. I can't even explain these. Just get one black or grey man's pullover sweater, with a three-button neck and a collar, and you'll see what I mean. With a low-necked tee shirt, a scarf, skinny jeans, and boots, they are incredibly warm, comfortable, versatile, and amazing.
Purses - I get bags at thrift stores and random places. I have a grey hobo that's falling apart that I got for five dollars, a marc jacobs knockoff that I got for 14 dollars, a little long-strapped bow bag that I got in London, an "As Seen on TV" leather satchel with 20,000 pockets, a bow bag from Delias, and an american apparel fanny pack, all in black (except for the hobo and pieces of the MJ knockoff). A bag for me has to be functional - that's basically it. I never really like carrying bags, too easy to lose stuff, but I carry around my wallet, camera, a folding mancala board, a notebook or two, keys, pens, and other various and sundry items.
Makeup and Beauty -
I do not wear makeup for the same reason I don't wear heels, strange clothes, and things that don't fit well; it both requires an upkeep and causes a vague sense of discomfort, which makes me uneasy and uncomfortable and flustered. I used to wear red lipstick all the time in my ska days, and it made me so paranoid that I couldn't handle it. Makeup should really only be worn by those willing to perform the upkeep anyway - I always ended up looking like a deranged clown by the end of the day. If I have zits, the opinion generally is, who cares - not I, certainly.
Manicures and Pedicures - a waste of time. People who spend that much energy being grossed out by someone else's feet aren't worth your time. And manicures chip off in about thirty seconds anyway.
Hair - Mine is in good condition, because I went through a long and scarring phase where it was damaged and ugly. Now I just use some random, awful shampoo - I don't use conditioner right now, because this shampoo makes my hair greasy enough. Right now I use either Axe body wash or some other manly brand, because I like gender-bending and because it smells delicious. That's it.
Glasses. I wear them. Always have. Contacts just... don't go in my eyes. Plus, glasses kind of give off a "Get Lost" vibe - I once read an article that suggested glasses serve as a buffer to keep men from staring at your body - they seem serious and make you seem like you could kick some ass if you had to. This is assuming you wear serious glasses.
JEWELRY. JEWELRY. JEWELRY.
I am decidedly not into most feminine things, but by god, JEWELRY. I make a lot of my own necklaces with soda tabs, found washers, chains, subway tokens, etc., and I buy a ton of cheap earrings at this great boutique in town. There is something so, so incredible about adorning oneself with jewelry. I wear skinny chain necklaces with one small charm, sleek modern post earrings, ghetto hoops (like everyone), and jewelry with meaning.
This popped up when I was searching "Is Inglourious Basterds bad?" After consulting with those in the know* (*willing to shell out 10+ dollars for Mr. Tarantino), it appears that it may not only be bad for Jews, but also for the rest of mankind. Great, Quentin, you made a satire of spaghetti westerns. You also, apparently, were able to achieve YET ANOTHER great piece of desensitization propaganda. When are we going to realize that cinema is just another word for double think? War is peace, slavery is freedom... Revenge is Righteous? Violence is Justified? Please. Stop appealing to the basest human emotions and stop telling people that it's ok to murder to appease one's own sense of justice. I fail to understand Tarantino's popularity... or rather, I refuse to understand it, because I refuse to believe that his use of completely gratuitous, explicit, and disgusting violence could appeal to so many people. I am choosing to believe that his success is largely due to Weinstein Bros. insider deals. When are people going to realize that movies like Hostel, Saw, and Inglourious Basterds are centered on making us feel that murder is a justifiable act?
However, the Tower of Babel was not built for the worship and praise of God, but was instead dedicated to the glory of man, to "make a name" for the builders: "Then they said, 'Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.'" (Genesis 11:4).
(This stolen directly from Wikipedia - paraphrasing doesn't seem necessary.)
"And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of men builded. And the Lord said, Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language; and this they begin to do; and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do. Go to, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech."
How many people have been murdered because of our differences and our pitiful, weak inability to let go of brutal evolutionary devices? Perhaps the Lord could have saved some more of his flock by allowing us to share a unity and common heritage instead of scattering us via language to fight and kill each other for centuries.
I'm no atheist, but, more and more frequently, God's desire for humans to be sniveling, helpless worms disgusts me. I truly fail to see how these humans' building a tower for themselves is in any way immoral or against God. Perhaps the Great Lord was having a fat day and felt insecure...
Just finished the Rodarte-ripoff shawl I've been toiling on for a week, and I have to say, I'm pleased as punch.
Went to a party last night where I was the only sober person. My friend Amy lent me a copy of Dancer in the Dark, which I began watching today out of desperation (I haven't been this bored in, oh, twenty minutes).
What is it about Sundays? I wake up, completely disoriented as to the day, my clothes or hair reeking of leftover Newport smoke, and somehow, the pallid light and weak, bleating air and generally pathetic aura immediately alert me: Sunday. Allow me to free associate: Roman-Catholic churches, homework, early bedtime, boredom.
Me and Mr. Facts are kaput, unfortunately; however, I can't say it wasn't a timely ending.
So I'd like to rescind my former statements about American Apparel. Yeah, they're sexist and yuppie, but they also do a pretty damn good job of reforming our labor problems in their own little way. Their lifestyle marketing makes me want to vomit, but lets be serious here - where else could I get a thermochromatic tee shirt?
I had a dream last night that leftover crack played at my ex-high school, I found treasures while garbage picking in front of an apartment building on my street (that doesn't exist), someone stole my doc martens and I had to wear two different-colored ones from two different people, I met my mom while stealing from a local supermarket, and that I found a baby crying in a water bottle. Either my subconscious is smoking crack-cocaine or my life is about to get really nuts.
I got up at two this morning and wore the boots to Target, just to kind of make sure they weren't lost. I hate chain stores and the like, but when you have to buy desk lamps, sheet sets, power strips, etcetera, they're essential. I felt like this is such a perfect metaphor for Fordham, or college at all, or maybe my whole life - necessary compromise. I don't have the chutzpah or the bollocks to make my own way in life, so I'm lightening the load via higher education. At least it'll buy me some time...
I'm at a point right now where everything is in flux, which is good and fucking terrifying. Most of the people I used to call my friends have either drifted away or proven themselves to be wildly incompatible with myself. The closest relationships I have are with my parents and with whoever I'm seeing (romantically) at the time, although when my novios and I break up, we don't talk or usually ever keep in touch at all, so that's limited. It's good to realize that in life, the most important relationship you have is that with yourself - I've come to realize that your self-respect and esteem are entirely central to your happiness and success. Relying on others to make your life happen or happy leads to inevitable disappointment. This doesn't mean loving, caring, and trusting are irrelevant - just that the respect you show yourself will make you strong and be there when the respect or love of others isn't.
In any event, I'm glad to have the people in my life that I have right now.
this summer, I'm beginning a project on desire and its effects on society. I understand it's been researched at great length by almost everyone; I don't care. I'm going to be interviewing everyone i can get my hands on, so if you feel like it, give me a call or text at 973 970 4570
The bad part, in my opinion, about this whole college thing is that you don't know what the future is going to be like. Which obviously is a given in all situations, but makes planning this out so much harder. So many people seem to be happy leaving at 18 and becoming an artist/musician/creator-of-some-type. I don't want to be locked into some horrific job that I hate. I don't want to be locked into an Ok job that i can tolerate. For fuck's sake, i don't want to work! People say that those who are voluntarily jobless are just feeding off society, and bums, etc., etc., ... but maybe they're just not willing to take part in a plan that says school school school party work work work marry work work reproduce work work work work work work retire reminisce about youth when life was good golf DIE. I don't have a problem with people who choose this road - I'm just feeling really, incredibly boxed into it. And it's scary.
The other bad thing is that you can't really play this game both ways. If you want to live by your own rules, sleep late, fuck around, get tats, shave half your head, get bizarre and fun piercings, run your mouth, etc., it's difficult to find a nice job, a steady cash flow, and a comfy place to sleep. Similarly, if you're going to school, working, and doing all the bs activities and ass-kissing required to get into one of these places, you feel entirely fed up with yourself and sick of it all (Me). I've always been an individual thinker, but I'm completely pragmatic, and I'm also not overly dysfunctional or antisocial, so for a long time, I went along easily with things. It's like Dave Barry once said - the snake of adulthood swallows you inch by inch until suddenly you've gone from fun tymes and good music to pleated pants, paying bills, and thinking about private school for your kiddies.
The reassuring part is that you really can do what you want - as long as you don't want a lot of material things. Which matter a lot less to me now than they did a year ago. Thank the good lord in heaven. If he cares.
June 11th, Leftover Crack in Baltymore. Anyone interested?
Below, a selection of photographs for your perusal. They're not mine, i got them on google. I know most people aren't usually up for anything this incendiary, but this band truly tells it like it is. I don't want to kill any cops, but you got to love these people. And this band. And their politics. Whatever, just go with me.
also - shows on Friday, July 3rd (NYC) and Saturday, July 4th (Philly) - expect some flag-burning and ranting and good-timing.
Had a realization today that I spend so much of my energy hating hip people - enough that were I to put it to more practical usage, I would maybe finish one of the hundred or so books i compulsively buy (in fear of a book-destroying apocalypse? no idea...), design an award winning neurological prototype, or get one of the other many things i procrastinate doing, done - math homework, studying in general, sewing, selling things on ebay, sending out books to swaptree participants, and so forth. This is not an exaggeration. I resent hipsters and their having so much mindless fun, I suppose, as well as the casual sex, drug use, and consumption I can't bring myself to indulge in. I never really made a new year's resolution because I didn't really care, but I resolve to stop hating and just mind my own business from now on. Everyone really just wants to be part of something, and it's none of our business to criticize others for that...
Some two years ago or so, the artists Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake, a married couple, committed a double suicide. Duncan was the first to go; she was found in the couple's apartment in the Saint Mark's on-the-bowery church rectory. Blake, her husband, killed himself a week later by walking into the ocean.
Normally I don't revel in this kind of gritty shit, but I feel like I would have met these two at some point. They were friends with Frank Morales and Amy Sacco (my friend's cousin, and whose club Bungalow 8 was named after one of Blake's paintings); they were into the D.C. punk scene; this is just a strange, strange story about love that transcended everything, i guess?
Emily and I have gone through many, many parallel obsessions. We share a love for legitimate LES punks, comfortable "fat american" clothing, conceptual art, efficient alarm clocks, smoking newports (well i'm a baby and can't really), moccasin boots, kate moss, ebay, driving around, inadvertently funny rap lyrics, body modification, bauhaus, doodling, and sweetie boys. However, nothing compares to the overwhelming drive for minimalism we have been consumed with over the past year and a half.
Someone once said that "minimalism is at constant war with real life;" maybe that's why I like it. It's an impulse born out of anxiety disorders, and on a superficial level creates an environment free from stress. There is a definite high resulting when an OCD or otherwise psychologically warped person is in the thick of an activity directly relating to their problem, and throwing everything you own out is pretty fucking good.
Emily told me that when she was in the first, admittedly violent throes of this spartan phase, her dad asked her if her bare room indicated that she was moving out. I don't like orchestrated minimalism, where there is one flower laid on a steel table, surrounded by mies van der rohe chairs or some phillipe starck shit. I like the kind of minimalism where everything is beat up, worn in, well loved, and with a great history behind it. The combination of old elements and the echoes of a near empty room reminds me of traveling or moving to a new house - change being something that terrifies me, it seems healthy to live with its trappings on a daily basis. Minimalism has also helped me overcome one of the more obvious expressions of my obsessive compulsive disorder, that being my unstoppable pack-rattiness. From the time I was a kid, I saved everything. Almost literally. Throwing things out that I only thought I needed has proved to be incredibly therapeutic.
Orchestrated minimalism, the kind you see in the apartments of Karl Lagerfeld et. al., also distinctly smacks of consumerism to me. It is the tasteful kind - better, i guess, than tacky nouveau riche stuff, but not by much. What is usually the case is that a maid comes in daily to keep the place looking for spotless. For me, the look is less important than the physical lack of things (oxymoron?). When your possessions are few and special, anything you throw together will be beautiful, as opposed to someone who collects crazy knicknacks and just sticks them all over the place with no personal connection whatsoever.
I guess this is why going to new houses always frieks me out. I can't deal with the Lladro angels, fake French toulouse lautrec posters and patisserie signs, ironwork purchased at Home Depot, plastic plants - stuff designed to look intimate and wonderful (and whose origins are definitely so) but that is actually cold, fake, mass-produced, and terrifying. The echo of tiles and space in McMansions doesn't signify transition to me, but rather an emptiness that may never be filled.
But yeah, I hate mindlessness anywhere, and i'm sure it exists in NYC, london, tokyo, africa, the south, Latin America, and everywhere.
More words that I have noticed people use without thinking:
- perfunctory - in regards to an essay, school assignment, etc. You rarely hear someone say, for example, "That was such a perfunctory kiss"
more to come, i always forget to write these down when I hear them. Fortunately (or unfortunately I guess, its incredible to me how easily we allow ourselves to grind into routines so that even our language is rote) (not the correct use of that word) I am sure to hear some in the future.
I hate fashion, because it promotes the idea that clothes and accessories (extensions of your personality) can become obsolete due to the judgement of others and therefore should be purchased and disposed of rapidly (a state of mind which soon imprints itself onto your personality, your way of life, your views on the world, etc.)
The fact that almost all of the clothes, bags, shoes, socks, bras, hats, bracelets, capelets, tank tops, vests, slouchy scarves, sunglasses, sneakers, and every wearable item is produced in a foreign country, where wages are lower, in order to suppress prices, is really sad.
That means companies deprive U.S. workers of good jobs and exploit workers in other countries so that YOU can buy cheap clothes at Forever 21, the Gap, Nike, Converse, PacSun, Hollister, Hot Topic, Urban Outfitters, Abercrombie, Delia*s, etc. One of the reasons I was so excited about the Docs i got today was that they were made in England, before the company started outsourcing.
Everyone talks about eco fashion, sustainability, whatever.
Have you ever noticed how many companies will tell you that the best way to solve our ecological problems is to STOP BUYING PRODUCTS AS MUCH AS YOU CAN?
You will NEVER hear this. Of course not - because then their system would collapse, and we'd all live more frugally, more conscientiously, more intelligently, and probably more happily, with LESS.
Instead of rushing out to replace your old linens with organic cotton towels; instead of getting some random useless thing made in Africa somewhere; instead of getting a teeshirt that says "Reuse, reduce, recycle," consider keeping your old towels, donating money to UNICEF or some other cause, or making a teeshirt that broadcasts your beliefs from materials you already own.
Have you ever gone shopping and gotten high off the rush of buying - for some intangible reason? I used to have thoughts lifted from magazine copy - "I'm going to live my life in these clothes!"; " "This scarf will help me capture the essence of a moroccan souk crossed with a parisian prostitute!"; "Maybe this will cheer me up?!"
In reality, you will live your life in any clothes you happen to be wearing, regardless of their appearance. True adventure is not motivated by skinny jeans, or fake glasses, or whatever happens to be cool at the moment.
Fashion is a language spoken by the privileged, the rich, the young; the majority of the world, including your future boss, will probably not care that the stripes on your shoes are "nautical". They will be much more interested in what you have to say and do. Don't count on apparel to speak for you or communicate your message.
And, to be honest, material things are never going to make you happy. They are amusing, but then you get sick of them because you know how quickly you will discard them - maybe in three months - once you get sick of them?
Think when you go on a shopping spree. Unfortunately, I don't really enjoy it any more, because i see U.S. economic imperialism, poor families working hard, and a pretty messed up system that could be greatly alleviated if the buying populace could cut its irresponsible spending.
We expect it from our government - we should practice it ourselves.
Well here it is, ten past eleven and I'm doing pretty much everything known to man except what i should be doing ...
I've thought of a great idea for a short story involving camping, bears, peanut butter, baseball, and falling in love.
I've stalked the entire class of 09 on facebook.
I've gotten another rice cake with peanut butter.
Recently, I've been reading very good books, which is incredible because my taste was overwhelmingly poor for ages. From 7th grade to 9th grade, my standard oeuvre was Gossip Girl, hilarious books about UK girls, and awful books about awful drug problems. What a waste, although fortunately i got it out of my system early, as opposed to those who continue to read Phillippa Gregory, Nicholas Sparks, Meg Cabot, and Robert Patterson well into their adult (and geriatric) lives.
I'm in the process of reading "The Invisible Constitution," "House of Leaves," "Atlas Shrugged," and "I Am Charlotte Simmons." I just finished Ron Paul's "Revolution," "No Country for Old Men," and others I can't remember at this point. Maybe its because I don't really watch TV anymore (except for How its Made and Cribs), but my reading abilities have skyrocketed, proof positive that the retard box really does mess up your brain.
anyway, Nobody really cares about my idiotic life. but what the hell.
I really would like to get some tattoos, but like smoking, driving with really loud music, and weird hair, i'm pretty sure this falls under the category of "things I do in the presence of others to make them think I'm cool" (except for the music thing). If you want to live a happy, healthy, and comfortable life, only do things that you like for yourself. i figured out a long time ago, for example, that although girls who wear makeup always look awesome... i just can't do it. for the life of me. Or costumey clothes - give me a pair of jeans and a sweater any day.
IDK speaking of clothes i got new running shoes today, and actually went running. can't wait to see how long this lasts, probably until my lazy ass glues itself to my bed again. I really hate exercise. With all my heart and soul. but it feels... necessary? hmm.
kind of like college. I've applied to every school on the goddamned continent except rutgers. Maybe that's why it feels like i'm not going to be able to get into/afford any of the ones i did apply to.
SO adding to my list of grievances against this most hypocritical of companies... one is coming to the grand old yuppie pow wow that is Montclair, New Jersey!! yay hooray, as if there weren't enough skinny jeans and colorblock hoodies around! American Apparel has now lost its last shred of dignity in my eyes, completely shredding its last ... shred of cool by selling out to the suburbs. Although I'll buy their fair trade clothes any time (once i have the money) (and can ignore the sexist advertisements), I can't really say i have any respect left for you, AA, throwing your dubiously "urban" roots to the ground. Oh well, what do you expect from a company run by this man: