what you resist will persist

when life is stable and steady it can be nice yet dull. when life is a roller coaster twisting and turning and looping around, it can be exciting, but accompanied by dizziness and nausea.

we all have our patterns.

some things persist.

i was reading the interview with Michael Alig from earlier this year and thinking, wow, the things i've seen. growing up in new york in the 80s and 90s. i love my friends, love them, but they're mostly new to my life… no one can even understand what it was like, really. it's impossible to even describe. making out with some dude from humanities at marc ballroom, seeing andy warhol at the flea market on columbus avenue, shopping at patricia field on 8th street, seeing terence trent d'arby at the world when you're underage and there's mystery liquid dripping from the ceiling. the koch years, the dinkins years. cbgb, limelight, the tunnel, sticky mike's frog bar, club usa and a whole bunch of other places that don't exist any more… my homes away from home. palladium is an NYU dorm now, the amazing pool hall on that block, Julian's? long gone. Trader Joe's moved in. but it used to be a city of gritty hide outs, nooks and crannies. more mixing, more diversity. most nights out, you were likely to see a drag queen, russell simmons or both. free booze at outlaw parties, making friends with weed dealers in the meadow, $2 whiskey sours at howard johnson's in times square. no one remembers. i remember.

but we all have our patterns.

we all have scenes that get replayed. sometimes the characters are the same but the backdrop is different, sometimes the characters are new, the setting is new, but the words are the same. the things you try and run away from follow you. what you resist will persist. there are only 36 plots in the world.

my pattern, my go-to scene, the monologue i have memorized, the clip that will always, always make it into the director's cut is this: i want more. i always want more. bigger better faster richer farther hotter. and, all praises due to the voodoo priestes: happier. happier. and i can't stop won't stop, even though i'm exhausted and everyone's gone.

completely unrelated: pomade has officially made a comeback. i thought it was just the boys in my little galaxy, but it's definitely a thing. dudes doing dax daily. it looks good, i'll give 'em that. but damn if it doesn't stain a girl's pillowcase. ask yourself this, ladies: is it worth it?

ihave problems with iphone

i mean it's gorgeous. it's slim, it's sexy, it's intuitive.
but.
it will take some getting used to.
voicemail is down.
the internet is down.
texting takes 5 times longer than it used to; maybe if i cut my fingernails it will get better.
it's not petite like my pebl; i can't slip it into the front pocket of my jeans.
it kind of makes me feel like i have manhands made of ham.
i can't send a picture in a text message? or if i can, i don't know how?

princess di loves kanye west

so the late princess of wales loves the college dropout.
and you know what? so do i. i like the direction he's going in. sure, he's years behind björk when it comes to retrofutureasianrobot themes, but at least he's not stuck in the bikinis and benjamins school of hiphop videos.

stronger - kanye west


one question - when he asks me to be his "black kate moss" - is he asking me to:
a. be thin
b. snort coke
c. design affordable separates for topshop
d. be just generally fabulous and fashionable
e. all of the above


if you like your daft punk straight up and retro, then watch:
harder better faster stronger - daft punk

this old world is a new world

yesterday morning i texted hrh:

me: i woke up with iPhone phever!
hrh: paging dr. jobs, paging dr. jobs.

then last night on spring street i saw two people sitting on chairs in front of the apple store. they're already lining up for the iPhone.


unrelated:

here is a song that reflects my mental state:

nina simone - feeling good


similarly:
muse - feeling good



unrelated:

the white stripes were on conan o'brien last week.
i missed it but caught it; that is the miracle of dvr.

love thy neighbor(hood): think hyperlocal, as in not even leaving the house

i can type without looking, i can look without leaping. muscle memories mean the nerves respond without thinking. your heart is a muscle the size of your fist says the postcard i never mailed. i'm holding it, i hold on and i don't let go. building a nest (magpie style) out of printed words and things that shine, so i can have something i can tell is mine.



six moths ago i swore if my life were a broadway play it would be lay miz. i claimed if my life were a beastie boys song it would be sabotage. that was the winter of my discontent. i was playing the percussion instruments called the doldrums. but seriously folks.



recently i went to bed drunk and high on the potent elixir of text messages. floating on love transmitted electronically 160 characters at a time. i dreamed i was a lego character, my lower east side apartment a set you could buy and configure as you pleased. everything is colorful, everything snaps together. these days my life is more like the title of a number from hair; let the sunshine in, at best. white boys, at worst*. not bad either way. still not oklahoma (o, what a beautiful morning), but a girl can dream. it's still early in the week.


*that is what we call a joke, btw.

lighten up!

so yesterday i was feeling some shoulder pain and like maybe curvature of the spine? and i looked at my beautiful silver bag like, wtf are you doing to me? what is in there? i swear it was like 5 lbs. which doesn't sound bad but when it's pressing on your shoulder on the F train for a while it's really not cool.

so i decided to dump everything out. and catalog the contents of my bag.


here's what i was carrying around:



{click here to see annotated photo.}

wallet
iPod
h&m umbrella
plastic letter opener
primal elements lipgloss
total bitch lipgloss
maybelline great lash mascara
2 sharpies
revlon just bitten lipgloss in plum wicked
lip smackers lip balm in coca cola
tarte cheek stain
keys
hello kitty guitar pick
skull beads from a broken bracelet
hair barrette
entertainment weekly
paper magazine
new york magazine
teen vogue
wicked lovely - teen fiction about a girl who sees faeries
"diary" notebook from chinatown
3 (?!?) pairs of sunglasses:

• --80s splatter from fred flare
• --white miami vice style
• --black chanel 5019 quilted side shades in case (scratched)

cvs total moisture lotion
rollerball pen
lip smackers lip blam in fanta
assorted business cards
new york city™ condom
terracotta by guerlain
dome blush brush

not pictured: pink sony cybershot camera (in use!); motorola pebl (left it at home).

phew.

what's in your bag?

the GFF models will hurt you and you will enjoy it

maybe you heard that italian designer gianfranco ferré* died. i recently visited his website. steel yourself and check it out:

gianfrancoferre.com

for the spring/summer ad campaign, not only is GFF using a black (!) model, she's not the light-skinned, wilting flower you so often see. she's dark-skinned, with a strong jaw, a haughty, "wtf you looking at" royal expression, and you get the feeling she could - and would like to - kick your ass. she's accessorized by a sexy terrorist who clearly does her bidding. together they paint a seductively threatening picture that made me forget why i went to the site in the first place (just admiring the sunglasses, your majesty, may i be excused?)









*(gianfranco ferré is like, such a sexy name! it begs to be whispered in the dark on a yacht in the mediterranean... gianfranco? ferré!).

poetry of the weak

try not to get worried

last night in a cab on my way downtown i was on the phone with my attorney when my driver, going east on 18th street, made a right turn onto 6th avenue. he turned south onto a one-way avenue on which the traffic goes north. facing the headlights of the cars (that were, thankfully, stopped at the light at 17th street) my driver and i both said, "oh my god!" and then laughed as he swerved into a graceful u-turn. my lawyer was all, is everything ok? and i was still laughing as i said, yeah, i'm ok, we're fine. everything's alright.




track of the day: everything's alright, jesus christ superstar

try not to get worried, try not to turn on to
problems that upset you, oh...
don't you know?
everything's alright, yes, everything's fine.

i can't keep up with myself

there's a reason they say writing is athletic. sometimes the emotions, the insights, the observations are there but the energy is not. muscle memory is a tricky thing. as a former gymnast, i know. just because you understand and remember how to do a back handspring doesn't mean you can do one right now. and just because i know what i want to write and happened to be filled with the impulses, desires, perspective, ideas and conclusions doesn't mean i can actually organize words in the english language into paragraphs that make sense. today, anyway.

track of the day: chase the devil - max romeo

sounds like teen spirit

listen.

i am fully aware that i am an adult, and not a sulky teenager.

and yet.

sometimes i ride the subway with my hoodie hood up, iPod blasting inane pop that soothes the soul or blistering emorock that fuels angst.

and right now is a great time for infectious sugary confections, the silly tracks known as summer anthems. i've worn my amy winehouse and lily allen albums thin; i'm looking for songs to carry me through june.

candidate #1 ; girlfriend - avril lavigne


it's not rocket science or poetry, but it's like she can read my mind.
"hey, hey
you, you!
i don't like your girlfriend!
no way, no way,
i think you need a new one...
hey hey, you you -
i could be your girlfriend!

she's like so whatever
you could do so much better.
i think we should get together...
now."

i mean seriously. i've had this conversation with myself or a friend at least a million times this year and we're less than 6 months in.

candidate #2: lip gloss - lil mama


the estate of marilyn monroe and various marketing departments may want you to believe that diamonds are a girl's best friend, but ask any modern woman what she can't live without on a daily - nay, hourly- basis, and the answer is lip gloss. lil mama is 17 years old and shouts out mac and l'oréal. love her.

(download track here)

candidate #3: girlfriend remix - avril with lil mama
combine these brats and double your pleasure! two great tastes that taste great together!

download by clicking here!


candidate #4: party like a rock star - shop boys


the musical equivalent of candy from a 25¢ bodega vending machine. great and terrible at the same time, bad for you, sort of gross and highly addictive.

"totally, dude."


candidate #5: umbrella - rihanna


i dunno, the song is stupid but kind of hot at the same time, i guess she wants to be the new aaliyah, except ciara has that on lock. rihanna looks good—gorgeous, actually, but at times her voice is super nasal, that's my only complaint. still. i think jay-z is a genius and knows exactly what he is doing as he micromanages her career. the "ay-ay-ay" in this track is annoying at first and then you just succumb to it, it carries you away like a coney island riptide and you enjoy drowning in its repetition.

candidate #6: last night - diddy ft. keyshia cole


three words i always live by: don't doubt diddy.

ok!
this is by no means a definitive list. i'm open to suggestions for great summer songs.

while we're on the subject of teen angst, i watched nowhere for the nth time over the weekend. took pictures because the art direction is killer. i also just love the stilted acting, fast-paced potty-mouthed dialogue and apocalyptic tone. sigh.

when does optimism become stupidity?

the beauty of growing up in new york is that you're quite aware of how delicate life is. a sense of safety is fleeting. you could be jumped, punched, stabbed, shot, blown up, hit by a bus, pushed on to the subway tracks, electrocuted by a grate or mauled by a crack-addled pit bull at any moment. so you'd better enjoy yourself while you can.

oh, and while you're enjoying yourself and loving the world and befriending the person next to you, who then starts coughing his lungs out, remember - he's probably just given you TB.

leftovers

i'm just going to warm up some stuff from earlier in the week.



monday i had a hot ticket: entry to a press screening of pirates of the caribbean: at world's end.
it was super fun... non-stop action. if you think the second one sucked, you're right. but this was better.
about halfway through it goes all psychotic and psychadelic and you join johnny depp as he trips out of his mind. so much awesome.



tuesday i was walking home through soho minding my own business when richard famous called me.
"what are you doing?" he asked.
"i'm on my way home," i said.
"come to the rogan party," he said. "tsuyoshi is here."
"i dunno, i'm tired," i said.
he handed the phone to tsuyoshi.
"you have to come, there are so many hot guys here," tsuyoshi said. "get in a cab right now."
i got in a cab.
it was a hybrid!
i was already having fun.





















"i thought rogan made jeans. why are there only surfboards in this store?" i asked.
no one answered. we drank free booze. we hung out on the sidewalk in the mild may air. we played ping pong in front of the store. we ate stupendously delicious appetizers at south's. we wandered the streets of tribeca and hit the afterparty at smith & mills.










yesterday was richard famous' birthday. drinks on the patio @ b bar and then much-needed sleep.

it was also a celeb-studded day.
last night i saw fred armisen on the F train platform at west 4th street.

later i saw alan cumming on ludlow street, considering entering paladar and then reconsidering.

then latenight i saw rashida jones on houston and essex, looking every bit as beautiful as she does in pictures.


looking ahead:

- it's fleet week! there are sailors everywhere.
- my attorney is coming to town again!
- it's almost my birthday. i hate aging but i love celebrating.