who in gods holy hell thought they could get away with katy perry's ridiculous sesame street video?? fucking seriously???
I like to be topless as much as the next girl, but does it hurt to hide your cleavage on sesame street?
furthermore, big bouncing jumbo tits paired with the catch phrase "lets play!" usually means one thing.
why are people trying to take her side on this? I am practically a nudist anarchist and I still don't understand why ANYBODY THINKS/THOUGHT that this video would somehow pass by the american eye without question.
I feel uncomfortable if I have cleavage in front of somebody's dad, let alone somebody's KID.
why does the world need katy perry's big tits and big empty skull?? she's such a self righteous moralist and simultaneous fame whore but she's worse than the Heidi doll because she infiltrates the radio.
After a week of beingcompletely satisfied, busy, exhausted, hyperactive-- after the rush of adrenaline, feelings of emotional, creative, intellectual and physical accomplishment- the calm rushes in and I only want more of everything.
Before I moved to China, I used my five dollars of weekly allowance money to buy this beautiful little decorated matchbox that contained native american charms (worry dolls, healing sand, etc.) It also held a little fortune. My sister, never to be outdone, bought one as well. (Mine was pink with a golden sun embossed on the front and hers was blue with a silver moon.)
Her fortune read "You are about to embark on a great journey"
and mine said
"you have the sublime talent of perpetual contentment."
I stole hers and replaced it with mine. I knew she would never notice. I knew she would lose her matchbox the instant she bought it (which she did.)
I still have mine. "You are about to embark on a great journey" is now my curse. My actions 11 years ago reveal the only truth about fate. You create your own fortune, and in turn, your creations become you.
I now long for contentment. But I can't have it because I traded it for something I thought was better. My sister can't have it either- she lost it. Neither of us thought it was important.
but I still have the matchbox. I hold on to every sentimental object with witch-like belief in their authenticity. What else do I have to confirm that I've lived a life besides Romanticized recollections but these small tokens of their ruin?
I hope you find your contentment.
and remember that I always love you even if I am running off in another direction. The journey has become a prison.
There are two kinds of human beings in the world: when you're sick, those who ask you if you're ok or if they can get you something and those who immediately respond with "oh. stay away from me."
this automatic reaction is reflective of a life style.
I told Sarah B and Jordan B about my preference for boys with SOUUUUULFUL EYES (or if you really want to get serious, "soulful eyed manchildren.") They have not stopped making fun of me since...resulting in numerous staring contests....blah blah blah
Sarah finally looked up "soulful eyes" on urban dictionary:
soulful eyes
when talking to person and the eye contact seems too intense it causes slight discomfort to some. (unless youre one of those couples that is insanely obsessed with your partner, and soulful eyes happen during breakfast chitchats and cellular phone commercials.)
he: "and i think traveling there will bring me like, happiness" she: ... (looks away uncomfortably) he: "are you okay?" she: ... (he was so doing soulful eyes)
Jordan's final comment about the debate that ensued after reading this definition aloud: "no no, I understand why she objects to that definition. Soulful eyes have A FOOFY sort of intensity."
P.s. This is sort of a deviation from the "soulful eyes" comment...on kilter enough to be relatable to manchildren. I just found the only living recording of a castrato. This recording was taken by edison when he visited Italy where the choir master happened to be the last living castrato. (The castrati were castrated boys who grew up with unchanged voices. They were precious to the Opera communities of a bygone era. here is the recording:
P.s. This is sort of a deviation from the "soulful eyes" comment...on kilter enough to be relatable to manchildren. I just found the only living recording of a castrato. This recording was taken by edison when he visited Italy where the choir master happened to be the last living castrato. (The castrati were castrated boys who grew up with unchanged voices. They were precious to the Opera communities of a bygone era. here is the recording:
One by one they appear in the darkness: a few friends, and a few with historical names. How late they start to shine! but before they fade they stand perfectly embodied, all
the past lapping them like a cloak of chaos. They were men who, I thought, lived only to renew the wasteful force they spent with each hot convulsion. They remind me, distant now.
True, they are not at rest yet, but now they are indeed apart, winnowed from failures, they withdraw to an orbit and turn with disinterested hard energy, like the stars.
Thom Gunn
iN OTHER NEWS
I wasn't planning on writing anything tonight. I was planning on taking a brain vacation and watching the horrible but sexy 90210 but instead two things came to my attention that piss me off and have always pissed me off.
1. WHY THE FUCK DOES EVERYTHING ALWAYS HAVE TO BE LIKE IN THE PORNOS? WHY? WHY? I will never EVER EVER try to emulate a porn movie in bed. I understand that enthusiasm is intensely stimulating...but there is a difference between enthusiasm and a repertoire of sexy sex plus+ moves. sex isn't like being graded. being loud for the sake of loudness isn't attractive unto itself. FUCK I hate fucking people with fucking MOVES. and I hate that the porn industry trains people to expect sex to be a certain way. I FUCKING HATE IT. I don't have anything against porn itself. but I hate what it sometimes makes sex into. if that makes sense.
it just ruins all the spontaneity! It's not a move if you're doing it because you can't stop yourself or if it brings you pleasure. BRINGS YOU PLEASURE. (and of course connecting with the person you're with should bring you pleasure if you're a balanced, healthy human being.) and that is my final stance.
2. In this debate about either gay people being born gay or developing into gayness- WHY THE FUCK DO SO MANY *BORN THIS WAY* DEBATERS BRING UP GENETICS?
whether or not there is a gay gene is besides the point. maybe there is. but I don't fucking care if there is.
The point is, we are ALL BORN A CERTAIN FUCKING WAY. Nurture changes this way, warps it or oppresses it or enhances it. THE POINT IS TO BE AS MUCH THE WAY YOU WERE FUCKING BORN AS POSSIBLE. to enhance. to EXPAND YOUR WAY INFINITELY UNTIL YOU DIE.
(side note: people are NEVER born "bad" as opposed to "good." NEVER. nEVER. NEVER. NEVER. perhaps sometimes darwinian survival instincts undermine the pure good human spirit- but I think this is besides the point as well.)
BORN THIS WAY IS NOT GENETIC.
genetic is not the point. genetics should not be an excuse for the way we are. We are the way we are AND THERE ARE NO EXCUSES.
there is forgiveness and humility. GENUINE REMORSE. and there is strength. and there is confidence. and there is love.
no excuses. no explanations.
if you fuck up, you fuck up. and you try to make up for it.
and you CERTAINLY don't say "sorry, I am genetically a white female and I live in Costa Rica. it is a tragedy. let me make it up to you by talking shit about my home country and trying to prove to you that I am still cool despite speaking spanish with an american accent." YOU DON'T SAY "I was late for this meeting, dear professor, because I am genetically directionally challenged. I was fucking born this way. rearrange your schedule, my dear poet laureate of Colorado CC professor internationally acclaimed poetry critic and genius, because I was FUCKING BORN THIS WAY."
nope. you fucking don't.
AND SO UNIVERSE, I ASK YOU: CAN YOU ACCEPT WHAT YOU ARE WITHOUT A SCIENCE TO BACK IT UP AND MAKE IT OK? MAKE IT "LEGITIMATE"?
CAN YOU!?
because I want to live where there is no science. only precision.
ahhhhhh AWESOME especially that nicki menaj character who i was determined to hate. fuck it. i love her. her part comes on about 3:20. soooooooo bad ass....holy shit.
Im obsessed with the white hat.
Grandma goth stripper is a reoccurring theme for me this week. I had pretty amazing outfits (in my opinion) the last two nights....but I was too busy to post them. I think I've workshopped a total of 45 poems and 30 plays in the past 3 days in addition to writing my own stuff and attending BlockPartie organizational meetings and professor career advisory stuff (both of my advisors are leaving for greece to co-teach a classical greek poetry/philosophy class there....I should be there with them but sadly I cannot afford such a thing. my shoes keep me warm at night.)
In the spirit of classical Greek poetry, here is a little thing by lovely Sappho
This song will play during the first "montage" of various seductive role play scenes (vampire, leia and fantasy creatures, fading out as the scene I posted last week comes on.)
this song will play when they're flying to China together. Bee will be staring out the window. Alex will try to hold her hand and she'll pull away. flash to scene of Bee imagining the protagonist of her novel on some sort of adventure.)
an excerpt of this song will play briefly as they storm china. most scenes that take place in china will be quiet and dedicated fully to dialogue.
this is the theme for A's imagined character development of the protagonist (both A and B will develop the character in different ways...and I'll show this by having pensive shots of both...writing... with fading into different plot developments for their protagonist. the protagonist will wear two separate costumes and be doing distinctly different things in these imagined scenes. no dialogue for these imagined scenes either.)
(this is B's theme for her imagined adventures of the protagonist)
this is the song that'll be playing after A has abandoned Bee to complete the end of the novel. She has given him full rights to the beginning which she wrote on her own. In other words, he chooses art over love. She has been able to juggle to two simultaneously the whole time- but in the end, as it comes down to it, she chooses love over her art. She believes that he has never loved her- but instead he has loved the ideal of her and has loved himself because he is dating an artist. she is his edie sedgewick. Ironically, in the last scene, he has just completed the novel and finds himself incredibly alone. so he hangs himself. this is the song that plays as a shot of his body is played- as well as the scene of a chinese person breaking down his door, finding him swinging over a grubby manuscript. flash to manuscript. the final page says THE END.
this song plays softly in the background as there is a flash forward to the final scene of the movie. Bee is getting ready for a fancy fashion event. she is rich because from his book royalties. her son helps her get dressed. the mother and son have a very lovely relationship, but the bee is obviously lonely. The boy shows early signs of artistic talents and a tendency towards reclusive-ness. (this scene is included at the end of the post.)
this song plays during the final credits. the son dances with his mother's stockings on during the credits. the names flash in front of him.
--------------
HERE IS THE FINAL SCENE WITH BEE AND HER SON (there are many other scenes that I have not posted on this blog, though the first scene was posted about a week ago:)
(woman is petite brunette and in her early thirties. very glamorous. Boy
is about 7. brunette.)
Bee: (to boy) This is Chanel
Haute Couture. Do you know what that means, love? It means that 30
spindly fingered French grammies suffered for weeks so this draping
would be just so, the beading, alluring and complimentary- but not over
the top, etc. DO you see this weave texture (pinches fabric at top of
bodice.) this material was first used to clothe the newly emerged modern
working woman during world war 2. The men were away dying, so the woman
took up the industrial mantel clothed in chanel's suits and beautiful
smart hats. Genius.
Boy: how'd you get it mami?
Bee:
I have an event tonight. at the Met.
Boy:
whats the Met?
Bee: Its a costume gala, dear. A
celebration of clothes. I was loaned this beautiful thing. I wish you
could be my date. All of the prattle is so endlessly dull. Who vomited
after one glass of Champagne. Who is wearing a piece from last season.
who is with who. who has how much of this or that. But the real joy of
it is to gawk plainly and simply at marvelous creations worn by radiant
swans, black hearted they may be. Its like a bestiary of fabulous.
(looks at clock on wall) Come Emo, help me pick out my corsage and
jewelry (indicates 5 trays filled with jewelry and corsage options.) Oh!
Smell these roses! (she holds a dark pink rose corsage to her nose.
then holds it out to emo who bows his head towards them as though
praying to something.)
Boy: I like that one (points at Gardenia and pearl corsage fixture.) or that
one (points at white lilies.)
Bee: Not the dark roses, Emo? They're my favorite. (looks sad for a second.)
Your father never knew that.
Boy: Did he ever buy you flowers?
Bee: Before.....well...before...anyways...he stopped. I stopped occurring to
him.
Boy: How did you stop occurring to him?
Bee: His brain became an occurrence for a different planet. There is no room
for love once that begins to happen.
Boy: The roses are beautiful Mami. You are beautiful. But I thought you
should wear no color. (points at the gardenia corsage) like in the weave?
(holds up the corsage to his mother's bodice.) Its simplicity.
Bee: Yes... yes. You are right. Gardenia's and pearls then. for simplicity.
(she pauses to fix another gardenia piece into her hair and slips the corsage
around her wrist. She holds up massive diamond earrings to her ears.) Too much?
Emo: just enough mami.
Bee: Emo? What are you doing? (looks at him inquisitively...and pauses to
think for a quick second.) you know thats the wrong way to put on
stockings...(holds out her arms to him) here. let me show you.
(he has black stockings around his ankles and hops over to her. SHe grabs
him and seats him on her lap, tenderly inching one stocking leg up his leg,
followed by the other.)
Emo; feels good....soo silky...mmmm... (he sighs contentedly...happy to be
in her arms.) (he is wearing a sloppy white shirt tucked into the black
stockings.)
Bee: I know, doesn't it? Hey little man, get me the shoes I have laid out
over there, will you? (he runs to fetch them. she continues to sit.
contemplating.)
Emo: mami, do you want me to take these off for you? (indicates stockings)
Bee: no, no, keep them if you like...I’m going bare legged tonight (points
toe and bare leg out in front of her. grins wickedly.) what do you think?
(Boy laughs. he trots over with massive black glittering stilettos on his
feet, slips them off, and hands them to her.)
Bee: Thank you lovely, I'll miss you little man. I promise, I'll take you
next year. You're just one year too young. and I'll bring back pictures of the
best couture. Are you sure you're ok by yourself?
Emo: Mami...I hate babysitters. its better this way. Don''t feel
guilty.
Bee: Ok Emo, but the alarm is on. don't go outside.
September 20, 2010
funny anecdote. the last time I got ahold of a camera I made somebody sick. This was in middleschool and was asked to film a basketball game by the head of phsyical education department. I went CRAZY with the effects, zooming stuff, EVERYTHING.
He told me it made him so sick...and he was deeply disappointed in me.
I was completely submerged in the craziness of video cameras...had no idea that I might be creating an artwork worthy of the garbaaaaaaahge.
I cried for an hour or two. I could never handle being verbally bitch slapped by somebody I respected- same rules apply to my idiocy now as then.
In other news, for the next week, Im making my first FIIIIIIIIIILM.
30 MINUTES of mental masturbation. dont you just want me to post it?
YOU DO! YOU DO! YOU DO!
anyway, this time Im using a tripod so this should eliminate some measure of dizziness.