While exploring online the other day, I came across the artwork of Ashley Lloyd. Then I fell in love! Lloyd is currently a student at the Maryland Institute College of Art, majoring in Fiber ARTS. Her feminine and delicate pieces evoke the spirit of old things and her love for fairytales. For being a young artist these pieces seem especially thoughtful and refined. These mixed media "shaped pieces" are toiled copper with paint with dangling web like threads. They seems like precious badges or vessels that tell a story. I was so excited to find these magical paintings. ( found thanks to ULLABENULLA)
Sorry to have neglected posting for a bit, I had to take some time off of from the WEB and the t.v. to organize my life. In these next few weeks before my big surgery, I thought I should focus on cleaning house in the event that anyone should need to take care of me here in my messy art pad.
I had decided to rearrange all of the rooms and put my sewing stuff on a vacation to the back room. (considering I have neglected to sew anything in over 5 months)
I opted for making that space an open air art section, minus the craft clutter that previously took root there. Before doing all of this, the FENG Sui (according to pals) was dismal. I had no motivation to make things and was at a standstill.
Kiss that apathy bye bye. I am now lounging in my new and improved art space. Mr. Georgie Boy is in love with all of the new corners and spaces to hang out in.
He has taken most fondly to this flapper Dietrich doll.
later last night we went to celebrate Patterson's birthday at this cool new spot called the GRIFFIN. It sort of resembled an ol' Medieval Pub. The ceiling reminded me of a grotto, and the little fireplaces and stone seating areas hidden in the dark were lovely. The outside smoking area resembled a castle cage.
while browsing the web I stumbled upon this embroidery artist who creates paintings with thread. Who does this one remind you of?
Constructed Textiles by
Animals, toys and ornamental objects provide a zoo-like storybook. I capture and translate them into textile creatures, through fabric collage. I employ illustration, knitting and embroidery as a base to create fabrics which are both quirky and decorative.
Britt loves her Starbucks. Ok, for her sake let me clarify, her familia gave her a free STARBUCKS coffee card. And she is generous enough to use it for our morning coffee expeditions. There is nothing more inspirational in the early a.m. then a quote from Starbucks on your cup like this...
and mine was catered just for me...
"Anger is Contagious"
Georgie boy loves the new hat that MR. P. bought for me.
It's my Pretty in Pink 80's revival look.
minus the pretty part.
Did Georgie mention that he is being animated this fall on ABC t.v.?
That's right, his new show SLACKER CATS is already out. WATCH it Monday nights on familyABC. He loves being glorified for his lazy.
If simple times meant that details were not lost, I prefer the craftmanship of the magic hands that beaded and constructed countless doily knits, in the old days of no technology. What happened to the decorations that adorned every corner of a building? Why does it seem that all the focus and desire to create wearable art has flewn out the window. These things from the closets of the past look like museum pieces, because they were so carefully construced. No one wants to do that now. No one has the time. The scattered minds of most can barely watch an entire t.v. show without changing the channel countless times. Imagine what will eventually become of us. We will have technological devices attached to our brains to remind us to think and move. We will be unable to sit & read a good book. A chip will fill in the details like cliff notes.
I went to see SUPER BAD last night at the VISTA theatre in Los Feliz and ran into just about everyone I know. I was surprised that the entire theatre was packed for a Tues.
I laughed out loud during most of the movie. Could've been because Mr. P. was practically squealing and choking on his own laughter. It reminded me of all those awkward moments growing up where you are trying to score some drinks via an older person at the 7-11. It also had sort of a WEIRD SCIENCE vibe between the friends. My opinion was defintely swayed by the cuteness of Michael Cera- the kid who played George Michael on Arrested Developement. He is truly hilarious in every uncomfortable moment. It's probably more of a "guy" movie as far as the sexual innuendo and such...but I'm silly so I give it a thumbs up
My friend David is one of those sweet guys that always delivers when needed.
Scout the dog was blinded by his inverted eyelashes and flaps and folds of skin that cover his eyes. He was in dire need of an extreme makeover.
David helped out with his surgery. Check out the BEFORE picture:
and the new face (mind you this is merely one day after surgery...So its still a bit raw)
Playing FETCH is never going to be a problem again!
Joan River's eat your heart out, there's a new fresh makeover in town.
fellow pal blogger Scheid has introduced me to the latest BAT FOR LASHES video!
I love this song because it reminds me of all those talky SHANGRI LAS songs from back in the day.
here's my favorite Shangri La's song and video:
While cleaning out the 240 stacks of magazines in my art room, I stumbled upon some images that were inspiring for future paintings. From those I discovered a recognizable model face that has graced countless fashion editorials, and yet until now, I had not known her name.
With a little Nancy Drew googling, I found that this 20 year old model is Bekah Jenkins.
I am just left wondering why she isn't more well known?
When I was young (maybe 9 or 10), I was fascinated by the work of Miro and Picasso. I also dabbled in silly putty and the Sunday Comics. It should then come as no surprise that in early college, while on a class fieldtrip to the Columbus Museum of art I formed an art crush on Elizabeth Murray's work. Murray was a NY painter who reshaped Modernist Abstraction by giving it a whimsical comic spirit while still dealing with serious subject matter. Her interesting forms and shapes came off the wall and invited you to interpret their meanings. The imagery conjured up shapes from Disney characters, and comic thought bubbles intertwined with band aid pinks and vibrant donald duck yellows. She often gave her pieces funny titles like "YIKES"
I still own an ART magazine from the 90's that has her work on the cover. I liked that she was a woman artist who had a family and yet still had an intense focus on her career. Her children enhancing that talent by contributing energy and ideas to her subject matter.
Elizabeth Murray once said in an interview, "Deep down, most
artists are on the edge of feeling what they do is absolutely meaningless -
and that's the fun of it."
I woke up today to find out that Elizabeth Murray died this week at 66 from lung cancer. Although she was the embodiment of Modernism, her work chronicled every aspect of her life.
From her obituary in the New York Times, written by artist Roberta Smith, this sentence stood out ...
"By the fifth grade she was selling erotic drawings to classmates for a quarter."
Murray notes that "starting to make a painting is like starting to tell a story."
I also found this online, posted by Rob Matthews
" I met Murray during grad school. She was a visiting artist at VCU. I had a studio visit with her. She said I was detached from my work. I remember she said it in a very nice way that cushioned the blow of such a statement and also made it hard to say, "Nunh-uh" in response. She seemed like a genuinely decent person. She wasn't looking to make me feel bad or anything. Some visiting artists were there to be jerks because they took pleasure in it. That was not the case with Murray.
She spoke about working in relative obscurity in the 70s. She and her friends were under the assumption that they were "next" and that their time was soon due. Then she said, "All of us were looking around saying 'Who the hell are Julian Schnabel and David Salle?'" Oddly enough the Times story touches on this anecdote as well.
That was in 1998. At the time, she was scaling back her work. She gave a very good reason for it, she couldn't afford to make the complicated work anymore. Kids to feed, etc. At the time she couldn't afford all the studio assistants. For a while the paintings became singular and rectangular. Fortunately in 1999, she won a MacArthur Genius Grant. The complex structures returned. I don't know if that's all tied together the way I presented it but it sure seems that way.
If you haven't seen her and her daughters on Art 21, I recommend checking it out. It's sweet seeing them critique her and give her feedback.
Mourn the loss but also be grateful that the pain associated with her illness has passed. Pray for her family."
Murray discusses her paintings with her daughters in "Family Critiques Work," a short quicktime video clip on the PBS ART: 21 web site. Watch clips here:
I think a reviewer of the film SWEET MOVIE said it best..."what was director Dusan Makavejev smoking and where can I get some?"
Yesterday at the video store, a captivating DVD cover caught my eye. A doily headdress veil cascading over a naked woman in a ribbon chastity belt. Hmmm. What could this film be about?
My mind may never be the same.
I watched this, last night and again today. Yet still the phrase that rings in my head is "what's happening?"
I'm not sure if what I've witnessed is legal. What happened to the director, the writer to make this movie? How do you get to this place?
This movie makes Holy Mountain look like a Disney flick, seriously. Dusan Makavejev's SWEET MOVIE will stamp your brain with visuals from a cracked kaleidescope spinning feces, urine, candy, gynecological beauty pageants, food orgies, to a naked bodybuilder jumping rope. There are men drinking eachother's urine, an affair where the couple are locked in an orgasmic spasm and a girl zipped up into a suitcase heading for Paris. What!?
This surreal and bizarre film was created in 1974 and was meant to show the future 1984. It's been described as a "revolutionary Marxist sex comedy". Sweet Movie is still banned in many countries and actress Anna Prucnal was exiled from her native country Poland for seven years as a result of her role in the movie. She was denied a Visa to enter Poland to see her dying mother during that time. Whoa?
As for the plot (descibed like a collage) the film alternates between the sexual adventures of two women. The first is Miss Canada 1984 (Carole Laure), who, in addition to the her beauty crown, wins the right to marry Mr. Dollars, the richest man in the world. On the night of their honeymoon, Miss Canada is frightened by Dollars' golden penis, and flees his estate. But not before her new mother-in-law pushes her in a pool and attempts to keep her under. Miss Canada—begins the film as an innocent sweetheart and is slowly corrupted by a series of lecherous men, eventually folding herself into a sad fetal position.
The other lady is Anna Planeta (Anna Prucnal), who captains a steamboat with a large papier-mache head of Karl Marx on the front. She picks up a young sailor, and the two engage in a series of erotic adventures that involve beds of sugar and violent mishaps. Anna is later shown in one of the most alluring doily delights, a flimsy bow and magical veil, as well as tiny knit dainty gloves. She lures young boys aboard and seduces them with sugar and sex. These pedophilia moments depict her dancing around them and placing her lace undergarments across their faces. Eventually unzipping their pants in front of a large Karl Marx mural. The dirty ol man is always watching. Odd and surreal is an understatement here.
Yugoslav art-house provocateur Dusan Makavejev created this film about bourgeois complacency INSTEAD of taking Francis Ford Coppolla up on his offer to direct " Apocalypse Now ". Which I thought was pretty cool. Because as messed up as war movies are, nothing can prepare you for the shellshock "Sweet Movie" with deliver.
I think there is something to be said about the "overindulgance" of all of these pleasures. The movie ending with Miss Canada writhing in a massive bowl of chocolate-practically choking in it. Too much of anything is perhaps not always so sweet?
Words of warning that could have altered our night for the better. Last night, my friend Gitte celebrated her 100th birthday. She's not really that old, but by Hollywood standards she said she felt like it may have been 100 years. I told her she seemed to be getting sexier and better with age. I've known Gitte, an L.A. stylist, for almost 9 years. She has thrown some of the most memorable parties at her fabulous house. I have also used her luxurious pad for many of my own look book photo shoots. The best part about my Danish pal is that she has that low Nico/Dietrich voice and says "kime" like "keey-mee".
Gitte switched up her normal Mohito theme with refreshing watermelon spiked punch. Problem was- those cactus coolers went down smooth.
So it didn't seem like such a crazy idea when we all ended up in the pool at 4:00 a.m.
Did we mention that some naked guy attempting to do a giant cannonball slipped off the chair and into a huge cactus patch? All that flesh and needles...ouch.
I'd hate to be that guy today.
I can't believe these pictures of the Show Pony tent (at L.A. PAPER party) are dated 2005! It doesn't seem that long ago. I thought I should post how crafty and cute my pals are. Check out the insane layers of jewels, capes and flair most of us are wearing. I can't wait til I'm 80 and still walking about in these sort of get-ups.
Fayette Hauser is one of those mysterious ladies that you wish lived next door to you. You can imagine the exciting stories she would tell, and the photos of costumes you would die to borrow. For those poor souls who are unfamiliar with the dazzling diva, she was a member of the Cockettes, a stage group known for their glitter and wild performances in SF. She also designed costumes for Bette Midler, the group Manhattan Transfer and numerous films.
IF you need to get happy and feel inspired to sew fabulous kimonos and trick out your hair with sparkly flowers and sequins...do yourself a favor and introduce yourself to FAYETTE by watching the documentary on the COCKETTES.
It will make you long for a glamourous closet and a giant stage swarmed with elaborate scenery props. I was informed that she creates unique pillows and other creative things while maintaining her darling status. She is one of those reasons that I am compelled to paint portraits of gypsies and enchanted vixens
attached is the lp cover that fayette did with my friend Regina years ago..
and some of my own paintings
When is my favorite 80's ragamuffin look gonna resurface? You know that Dexy Midnight Runner "Come on Eileen" overalls meets...BANANARAMA mopping the floor turban hair mess look. Those layered to the max Thompson Twins get ups stuffed into slouch boots. I used to love those 80's Comme des garcons outfits. The women swimming in their pants-held up with double or triple wrap around belts.
this was my Belinda Go Go's look- around the time I discovered the promised land of Contempo Casuals
sometimes when I look into his eyes, or when he is sleeping in my lap this thought goes through my mind...
"you're my animal"
The idea that some furry creature from the wild has been domesticated to follow my every move and depend on me amazes me.
I don't know why this is so amazing, only that his surreal furry face has changed my life.
My favorite sixteen year old just became my favorite seventeen year old this week! WOW
My pal Emma a.k.a. orchid killer, just landed on the big "one seven". The stuff that Winger and Stevie Nicks wrote songs about.
17 is seriously the best sounding number, right? Your still at that rad age where your not quite 18, so you can't really get busted by the cops. Just kidding.
Emma's mom (by far the coolest Mom I know) asked me to create a piece that resembled the spirit of her daughter and her cat too.
Getting down that Emma stance was the hard part. Here's the final result
and here she is opening her gift the night of her birthday!!
It's not very often that I get taken for a ride in the backseat of a midnight blue caddie, eat fabulous sushi and am told- we better hurry and get to "the Castle". The Magic Castle that is. Mr. P has a magician pal from London who performs what I like to call "smart Magic". That cool intellectual type of mind blowing magic that has you shaking your head and saying...But, how does that happen? IF you ever visit L.A. try to figure out a way to get into the Magic Castle, cause it's pretty cool to enter a place through a bookshelf by whispering "open says me". Which for the record I thought was "open sesame" as a kid.
Last night, NIKE hosted a debut party for their new re-do shoe the RE-RUN.
Not to be confused with that slow chubby character on the What's Happening, the RE-RUN reinvents all the waffle bottom goodness from your babysitter's era.
Or for some of my younger readers...the era of your grandma?
The shoes are meant to look like you just escaped a killer in the woods, smudged them with random coffee stains and bent them backwards under a car. In other words, WELL worn.
In honor of the debut party- AARON Rose, (the man the myth the legend) curtated the art for the party room. I was lucky enough to be chosen to sell out and get paid.
I arrived on the scene with my girl posse. Well- more like a car of hippies. Britt was wearing her mush mouth ensemble, my favorite. The evening ended with Jessie opening up her new sharpie TATTOO drive-thru window-right out of the installation.
It's a good thing I always keep spare sharpies in my bag, because her customers were endless
Dear friend Allison- genius creator of my favorite necklaces, finally has a new ETSY site!
Her one of kind necklaces will make anyone swoon. I am always running around wearing my vintage metal horse charm necklace as well as my emerald green watch pendant. Every pal I have here either already owns one or dreams of purchasing a Madame Fortuna...Britt scored the Black Power charm necklace and Miss Cindy "the Los Angeles".
This merry jewelry maker scours the globe for hidden treasures and combines them in a mysterious way to tell a story about the person who wears them. Her work was featured in DAILY CANDY awhile back and she was blown away by the requests. She takes custom orders and asks the buyer to answer some questions about the person who will be receiving the necklace.
Her profile states that she is influenced by Antebellum houses, Storyville, peeling plaster, worn wood, victorian everything, fog, nature, biographies of amazing people, music, film and on and on ...
*"For the most part Madame Fortuna jewelry is made up of bits and baubles that have been hunted, unearthed, reinvented, repurposed, recycled, salvaged, discovered, celebrated, forgotten and remembered. Usually they have had a past life and so they have a history, which only makes them more desirable. Therefore each piece tells a story...Junk is my treasure and discovery is my drug. "
This would make Zelda Fitgerald swoon with pleasure. Attention getting gorgeousness. Sterling silver and vintage chains come together with an antique buckle with satin in the center and some decadent vintage chandelier crystals acquired in a crazy shop in Memphis, TN. Add a crystal ball drop and an antique "A" watch fob joined with a black pearl and you have something serious going on.
To find your self some pretty pretty things:
SHOW PONY also carries her new RELIC line!!
When I heard the news that creative couple Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake had taken their own lives recently I was confused. How could this successful beautiful couple (who possessed so much artistic talent) quietly exit? There are many reasons why this story continues to fascinate me. Duncan, also a midwest native was born practically the same day as me. I kept imagining her passionate Scorpio energy bogged down by something heavy. I was also amazed that her blog title description matched my artist statement from March. I had written that my new paintings were all about those witty things that you think about right after an argument or encounter but unfortunately didn't say in the moment. I declared them "little daydreams" in which your mind is able to solve the puzzle of love. Mind you, I had never seen this blog or heard much about her til this tragedy. Her blog also featured stories about KAte Moss, and projects with Karen Kilimnik (one of my favorite artists).
"They were like two parts of the same person -- very, very bonded," said New York-based writer Glenn O'Brien, who vacationed with the couple at his country house days before Duncan's death. "They were both extremely bright and knowledgeable. You could talk to them about the history of electricity or politics. Both were really scholarly in a pop sense.
Interesting info on their relationship and other details found here:
According to her friend, her blog /internet diary ...The Wit of the Staircase, was named for “esprit d’escalier,” for “the witty response you think up after the conversation or argument is ended…The answer you cannot make, the pattern you cannot complete till afterwards it suddenly comes to you when it’s too late.” The spirit of the Spirit was that it’s never too late. But now it is. It’s over when it’s over.
Her friend-wrote this after the artist Theresa Duncan had ended her life...
"All writers know that feeling of esprit d’escalier. It’s why we write it down. We are all compulsive talkers, and the best are too slow only by their own perfectionist standards. We write it down to finish the exchange, to make it complete, to connect every last dot, because conversations echo and each answer has its own process of being realized and we compulsively chase that process down. Theresa was not the sort of person one thought of as thinking up the witty answer after the party was over. She wasn’t just sitting there listening; she was extraordinarily present in the moment; her wit was immediate and incandescent. She was the life of many parties, but the electricity that flashed over drinks and dinners was usually the beginning of a much longer haul.
Theresa was best known as a screenwriter, but as the editor of a literary magazine, I encouraged her to write prose. From dipping into this delightfully eclectic well of thought, reviews, and tips I recognized an extraordinary mind, a tremendous talent and a prodigious analyst of culture.
Hearing of her death I was stunned and disbelieving. I waited for some bizarre punchline to kick in. I was sickened. Then, perhaps oddly, I was angry. I had felt this same way when Jean-Michel Basquiat died. How could you take your mind away from us, how could you take your voice out of the game? It didn’t make sense and it still doesn’t make sense to me now, but I couldn’t be angry anymore. I told Jeremy “You’ve got to be strong, you’re working for two now.” Apparently that argument wasn’t good enough. They were a team. They had become twins of a sort.
And so that black lightning struck again. I felt that sickening feeling again, but this time I wasn’t surprised. I have no answers to too many questions. I don’t know if the staircase will help. Why do two important creators cause themselves and their futures to disappear? I can’t complete this pattern. Maybe there is no answer. Or if there is, maybe I don’t want to know. Right now it’s hard enough to remain convinced that this is real. Why can’t I just call their mobile phones and get an answer? I’m going all Edison on this.
All I do know, the hard way, is that the artists and writers who come up with extraordinary answers are often deeply and terribly haunted by the questions that prompt them, and you can never second guess what it is to be haunted by ideas, by angels or demons or history or visions, by reality or imagination. Maybe I’ll think up a better response later. We live by our wits. Right now the only thing I can think of is to thank Theresa and Jeremy for their work, their friendship and goodwill and to hope that somehow, somewhere the answers come to them and the pattern is complete and that for such beautiful dreamers it isn’t too late. Their dreams are still in this world."
(Note: After Theresa's death, Jeremy asked Glenn to write this eulogy as the final post on her blog.)
Jeremy's work was exhibited here in L.A. often, as well as at the Whitney and on Beck's Seachange album cover. The couple's recent strange paranoia behavior was attributed to their fear that Scientologists were following them and trying to ruin their lives. No one is certain why they left at the peak of their careers.
Walk Between the Raindrops
(read at Theresa’s graveside at the close of
A shadow crossed the blue Miami sky
As we hit the causeway by the big hotel
Now I can't remember why
After all the words were said and tears were gone
We vowed we'd never say goodbye
When we kissed we could hear the sound of thunder
As we watched the regulars rush the big hotels
We kissed again as the showers swept the Florida shore
You opened your umbrella
But we walked between the raindrops back to your door
In my dreams I can hear the sound of thunder
I can see the causeway by the big hotels
That happy day we'll find each other on that Florida shore
You'll open your umbrella
And we'll walk between the raindrops back to your door...
you'll have a home to come back too.
My good friend David is a tour manager. He spends almost 8 + months out of the year travelling with bands on the road or in the skies. Because of this, he keeps most of his stuff in storage and lives out of a suitcase. Today I drove him to the airport and said goodbye again, for another month. He is off to Japan with Dinosaur Jr.
The past few lazy days while he was here, we ate pizza, cake and watched a marathon of WEEDS episodes with Gerogie boy.
It was nice.
Cross your fingers that he scores this rad treehouse apartment in the hills of Echo Park. Then I can visit and pretend I'm hanging out in Virginia. Trees for days and days.
My kid sister will always be a kid. She still seems like a fifteen year old to me. I remember all of her birthday parties back then. She hated dolls and preferred to use them as dart boards. On her 7th birthday she was given a "BABY Alive " doll. The most popular doll on the market at the time that boasted "She can really eat food and she really goes to the bathroom too- just like a real baby."
Her new Birthday gift wasn't eating quite fast enough so she solved that with a nice hammer slam to the jaw. When our mother saw her in the yard wacking the new doll in the face, she asked what she was doing...and Missy replied " She works fine, she just eats faster this way."
She was a tomboy trouble maker back then and used to charge the boys in the neighborhood to sneak a peak at our father's PLAYBOY stash in the basement. When she wasn't throwing rocks at COP cars, kidnapping other kids from their cribs or lighting things on fire...she was an angel.
This is us on vacation in Hawaii. Our parents were attending business and we were left to explore on our own. Keep in mind she could always eat whatever she wanted and still weigh 75 lbs- (what's with my hair?)
hope you have a good one
Georgie Boy can do better.
Sure, I don't have any kids at the moment, but I can still brag in some social circles. My cat started out playing fetch, and has quickly moved on to stacking four blocks into a tower. His Chess lessons are going well and his advanced watercolor courses at Parsons are showing promise as well.
Georgie has decided to attend Harvard in the fall.
This Saturday morning...my creative friend annakim had a yard sale. I won't mention that we hung out for three hours eating tropical pancakes and never saw a single customer. We even made elaborate signs. It didn't matter because there are enough things over at her place to keep a brain occupied.
Her colorful house, often referred to as the Monarch Estate is the perfect reflection of her glittered spirit. Table tops were adorned with gems and metallic paints and doll parts. This gypsy lair boasts a wardrobe chock full of dainty 20's dresses and a real opium bed. That means the bed looks like a giant carved stage fit for a Queen with puffy pillows and dangling owl lights. She has recently started work on her Midsummer Night's Dream Taxidermy collection. These lovely pastel animal heads will be shown at the SHOW PONY gallery soon.
Exactly three years ago, August 3... I was single, living alone in my apartment renting 2-4 movies a day. I had become slightly agoraphobic and commited to a life of solitude. I had sworn off the notion that any interesting men were left to be found here in shallow L.A. (I would comb the aisles of the grocery store and purchase pizzas for one.)
My pal called me around 11p.m. and asked if I could go to a local bar with her where she was to meet some guy from the internet. She was convinced he was probably short and dull and needed me as a good exit. At first I declined, but then she said..."if you come we can cross the street after and buy fashion magazines and I'll buy us food."
(I would choose leafing through fashion magazines over just about anything)
So off we went, I wore no makeup and a lame outfit. I wanted to blend in and not stand out. Her meeting went just as she predicted, he was short and not her type. He was however kind and offered to buy us drinks. We fled the scene around 1:45 and decided to grab some food. We passed the Brite Spot which was closed, and turned left onto Echo PArk. As we turned down Montana, we passed three sharp dressed gentlemen. I said "they seem sort of cute, maybe be should go back and give them a flyer to my art show". My pal said "really??" thinking that this brave action was unlike me. For the record it was a new moon on Monday. That's right a Monday. We slowly backed the car up and entire block, as the men retreated suspiciously. She rolled down her window and said , "my friend is having an art show this weekend you should come"
The cute guy with the dark curly hair said, "WOW! Telemarketers at this time of night!?"
My pal said "Where are you coming from?" and he said "we were just at some bar called the Little Joy, it really lives up to its name".
He then asked where we were headed. She replied "to go and eat".
He then turned to his pals and said, "what do we have at home to eat?"
The other guy replied..."uh...olives....and uh eggs...?"
The cute one mumbled- "ok Pull over and park and come to my place and we will make you food"
I would've probably said no way. But my friend parked.
The house was neat, had a cool piano and a bamboo bar. Very "over 30" vibe. I asked to use the bathroom (in order to check out my appearance). The cute one said "let me go check it first..." I followed and watched him attempt to organize the clutter and mildew towels. He turned and said ,"is this ok?"
To which I replied it was fine. But he lingered in an odd way.
So I said,, "well there's not a camera in here or anything taping me or something?"
And he quickly retorted, "No, but there is a sketch artist"
I knew from that moment on that he was perfect for me.
Sort of in that same way Yoko knew about John the first time he asked to put an imaginary nail in her canvas.
The table conversations lasted for hours and hours. Drinks and snacks devoured. Sometime during talking he took out a permanant marker and wrote in giant letters across my arm his name and number and "good looking guy" under his email address. IT covered my entire arm. I noticed at some point a movie on his desk. I commented on how I had just rented that movie. The room fell silent and his friend asked "what did you think of that movie?" I said I loved it. The cute guy then persisted..."What did you REALLY think about that movie?" To which I asked , "why didn't you like it?" I went on and on about what I enjoyed about the movie. He got up and one point and disappeared. My friend thought that maybe they were too good to be true and that they were gay and pulling our leg. IT was around 5 a.m. and she said we should go. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to him and told his friends to say bye for me.
We got to the car and I kept thinking how much I really liked him.
When I got home around 5:30, there was a message on my machine.
IT went something like this...
"You know where I come from, when people give you drinks and snacks you say thank you...if not GOOD NIGHT. Why didn't you even say goodbye? Well, if you get home in the next two hours or the next two weeks you should call me"
So I did. At almost 5:45 a.m.
He answered and simply said "I knew you'd call". He asked why we left so hastily. We talked for two hours and well into the sun rise.
The next day he came by the shop and gave me a copy of the movie that was on his desktop. It was written and directed by him, and said Best Wishes.
It's been 3 years since that night.
The bar has been raised.
Yesterday the Show Pony had an afternoon delight debut party for singer Alessi from London. The pixie like singer with the dainty accent spun songs from her guitar for hours and hours. Most of the shop was filled with darling underage girls bursting with creative talents. Emma and her Malibu posse came toting tribal bags and vintage poloroids. Animal Magik played hostess and provided the crowd with red velvet cake from Delilahs, and annakim presented more amazing jewels and chiffon frocks.
Alessi's playful personality and magical style made everyone happy.
A great time was had by all who attended.
I'll try to post more rad video action from this soon!
you may forget your name.
The other night at Spaceland, we all ventured out to see BAT for LASHES. The night proved to be more magical than any of us had anticipated. The Brighton England lasses wore glitter rays across their faces and hypnotized the crowd with their fine musical skills. Dueling Violins and pretty harmonies collided with tribal drum beats and haunting dangling bells to create the best sound around. It felt like everyone was holding their breath and falling in love. I wanted to take a thousand pictures as proof that the moment really existed. The vocals echoed the past -a collage of the best of Bjork (circa Sugarcubes) Kate Bush and women from the forest.
I took a lot of videos for my underage pals who couldn't attend the show and will try to post them to Youtube soon.
After the show we huddled around and complimented the performers...gushing about how mesmerizing it all was.
I survived two of my biggest phobias today.
My claustrophobia- for starters
and my deathly fear of needles and veins.
I'm one of those crazy people who has a panic attack when trying on a top and while taking it off realize the buttons are still fastened and my head is lost in fabric fighting for air.
I also faint at the sight of veins. I can barely get a blood pressure check.
So today while getting my very first MRI, I zoned out and listened to the sounds of the machine (sort of an Armenian Techno Club vibe)
and thought of my cat Georgie the whole time the man injected my veins with dye.