i am my own twin.

the folks over at myheritage.com think i look like an olsen twin. well, ashley and i are both geminis. our bank accounts, however, vary slightly.

other people i look like:


liv tyler



isabella rossellini

don't want to end up like bonnie and clyde

i almost forgot to post about this:

REGGAE-PUNK PIONEER DESMOND DEKKER DIES AT 64

DESMOND DEKKER, the Kingston singer whose haunting, strident "Israelites" was the first Jamaican reggae hit to cross over to international success, died May 25th of a heart attack in his Surrey, England, home. He was 64, and was to begin a European tour this week. Born an orphan in Kinston, Jamaica, Dekker passed an audition with the Beverley's record label in 1961 and had a string of regional hits, such as "King of Ska," before reinventing himself as a rebel "rude boy" in 1967. His hits in that vein, including "007 (Shanty Town)" and "Tougher Than Tough," made him a key influence on the SEX PISTOLS and the CLASH. "He had a nice spirit -- very soulful and a very good songwriter," says TOOTS HIBBERT of the MAYTALS, who befriended Dekker while recording in Kingston in the '60s. "He should have gotten a lot more credit, but that's the way it goes sometimes."

i freaking love this song: the israelites - desmond dekker

tragique-istan

oh there's fun to be had in girlhattan. lots and lots of fun.

r2 is visiting from GA, tim is visiting from hong kong, and jeffrey was in from LA.

it was like outdoor cocktails dancing brunch lunch shopping sushi mojitos margaritas connect four dinner champagne gin dancing brunch shopping all weekend long. as wyatt and gary say in weird science: so many people. so many parties.

and so where oh where does the tragedy lie? why is life tragic, tragique, tragikistan?

my camera is not working properly.

*sob*

we'll see what we can do.

smile in your sleep

silverstein - - smile in your sleep

i try to keep up with myself

i didn't believe in magicuntil i watched you disappear

i am still glowing from a gorgeous gorgeous spring evening in girlhattan.

sure, it rained yesterday. but when i stepped out of the subway at broadway-lafayette, the sun was shining and my friends were waiting for me at café habana.

oh, beloved roasted corn, how i adore thee!

we headed over to classic kicks where josh madden was DJing a converse/spin party. he played trick daddy's "shut up," which i love.

then we headed over to the soho grand for the maripol exhibit. huge polaroids of basquiat, debbie harry, etc. so cool.

also? drinking outside in the garden is the way to go.

celeb sightings: fred schneider, michael stipe, mr. mickey, and the holy grail of sightings, leo jimenez, the man my sister has had a crushing crush on for years.

to see awesome maripol polariods, click here.

after we left the hotel we almost went to the parasuco jeans party, but the crowd was too crazy. today i saw on wire image that lindsay lohan was there and DJ AM was spinning...

still, we ended up at pravda, where we had pizza with gruyère and potato chips with caviar crème fraiche.

le sigh, every evening should end with cocktails and caviar. more later.

fighting on arrival; fighting for survival

so friday night i went to two photo parties, followed by dinner, followed by a night that was so boozy and ridiculous the cops were involved. my silence protects the guilty. it was a tour of duty in the LES: freeman's, kush, happy ending, the annex... then lit and the moondance diner and home by 5am.

saturday was mostly a recovery day. sunday mother's day brunch plans were cancelled and we ended up at six flags instead. the safari featured depressed animals of all shapes and sizes and humping bears. the giraffes were really only interested in cars that were handing out chocolate chip cookies; we had nothing to offer.

roller-coaster highlights: nitro, superman.



















the awesome thing about the safari was that we were listening to bob marley in the car and right when we saw the bison, "buffalo soldier" cued up. on the heels of my purchasing three shirts from waffo, it was like everything aligned. i got three buffalo shirts - one for my brother, one for my sister and one for me. there are three buffalo on the shirt... and as we all know, i'm obsessed with the number three.

smells like marco?

i went to this party for planet magazine last night, primarily for the free booze and the location (i always have a freaky time at china 1).

i'm well aware that irony is hip. retro sneakers, ugly thrift store track jackets, neon hoodies, etc. but sometimes some of these kids actually confuse me. because if you're a geeky looking kid in geeky square eyeglasses like geeks rocked in 1985, and you're standing around talking about geeky shit, aren't you just a geek? even if you're at a supposedly hip party? i'm just asking.

what happened was this: i was trying to guzzle my free beer in peace and ignore the geekglasses, when some guy stood near me and NOSTALGIA wafted my way. i'm pretty sure this guy smelled just like my 7th grade crush, and that could only mean one thing: he was wearing POLO COLOGNE. is this what the kids are doing now? does anyone know???

pictures > words (lately)

yeah, i'm supposedly a writer, but i haven't been writing so much lately. even my handwritten journal, which i usually turn to obsessively, lies ignored. maybe someday i will write again, for now i'm going to let the pictures tell the stories.

































track i can't get enough of right now (when i'm not listening to gnarls):

be easy - ghostface killah