The Neon Zee

forgive me, i was so excited i forgot to pose or pout

 

in my head

its all in my head

ok three things

1. after the initial identity shock of no longer being the macha in ticoland, i am now SO FUCKING HAPPY to be redheaded here:

a) now sometimes im confused for tica which is super exciting for me b) because unlike with being blonde here, theres no instant sex appeal of genuine rarity and so i feel less hounded and sexualized AND ITS FUCKING GREAT c) people here now think of me as like SCARY MALL PUNK or something. 

such a fucking relief not to be sexualized. and very much appreciated. 

funny because, in the U.S., I think the red hair ups my sex appeal (which is neither here nor there)

2.did a lot of post-grad research today. i've decided i want to pursue working in the Denver rape crisis center next year (possibly.)

Last night I had this terrible dream that I was nine years old and kidnapped and then gang raped. at the end of the dream, after I'd escaped the gang rape den, i went to the hospital because somebody was having a baby. I looked at the baby and all was bathed in white pure light (as opposed to the dark deep nasty of the rape den)...and all I could think was...I NEED TO DO SOMETHING SO THAT THIS BEAUTIFUL LITTLE THING doesn't have to deal with what I've dealt with or (circumstantially) turn into the monster that the gang rapists had turned into. as in, I need to do something to take care of people to help them to give them what I've been given to teach them to avoid what I should've avoided....etc 

and so then i woke up. 

and so then i did research for creative writing MFA programs....and Denver job research for next year and then it occurred to me: Rape Crisis Center?!

3. HERES SOME GOOD ADVICE I found on one of my favorite cool-image/teenage-rant tumblr blogs:

"There are people who can walk away from you. And hear me when I tell you this! When people can walk away from you, let them walk. I don’t want you to try to talk another person into staying with you, loving you, calling you, caring about you, coming to see you, staying attached to you.When people can walk away from you, let them walk."

fuck yeah, young miss art school student! thats soooo true girlfriend!!! (no but seriously. it is.)

p.s. im being so healthy and restful here....im sleeping 8 hours a night and being moderate and eating FUCKING BROCCOLI (covered in tabasco sauce...duh.)

when I get to CO I might've recovered to the point of not looking like the walking dead....but thats a goal and not a prediction. 

p.p.s. ok so i just felt like i had to share this: I WAS SO PROUD WHEN I FIGURED OUT WHY CONSISTENTLY SOMETIMES NON-"ARTSY" STRAIGHT GUYS KNOW WHO CELEBRITIES ARE.

 

CUS OF THE PORN SIGHTS!!! i figured this out like a year ago....and now every time a guy knows an obscure female actress... i have a little snicker to myself. 

yeah yeah, movie knowledge my ass.

westwood story

all of 21 years old and still, according to my family of control freaks, im "not allowed" to leave the magnificent glass prison until the end of the official holidays. as in boxing day. as in, midnight=prison break.

as in...sometimes theres nothing to do in the world except pretend you're vivienne westwood and reread the chronicles of narnia and eat pumpkin pie

im not as cool as vivienne...but one day one day I shall convince my friends to pose like this with me....one day SOON.

 

i love narnia.

i love waking up to mini-monsoons. 

i love pumpkin pie.

 

p.s. i can feel a full on plaidpunk phase coming on. next logical step to the 2 year colo-rado obsession, probably. 

 

everybody else in the world is skiing or smoking weed and watching football or at a christmas party. but im playing dress up and reading fantasy novels. i guess this is actually a pretty typical dichotomy lately. 

anyway....when i sneak away to here:

to smoke cigaretttes....lately i've been listening to this:

 

Dark Eyes

Oh, the gentlemen are talking and the midnight moon is on the riverside
They’re drinking up and walking and it is time for me to slide
I live in another world where life and death are memorized
Where the earth is strung with lovers’ pearls and all I see are dark eyes

A cock is crowing far away and another soldier’s deep in prayer
Some mother’s child has gone astray, she can’t find him anywhere
But I can hear another drum beating for the dead that rise
Whom nature’s beast fears as they come and all I see are dark eyes

They tell me to be discreet for all intended purposes,
They tell me revenge is sweet and from where they stand, I’m sure it is.
But I feel nothing for their game where beauty goes unrecognized,
All I feel is heat and flame and all I see are dark eyes.

Oh, the French girl, she’s in paradise and a drunken man is at the wheel
Hunger pays a heavy price to the falling gods of speed and steel
Oh, time is short and the days are sweet and passion rules the arrow that flies
A million faces at my feet but all I see are dark eyes

-Dylan

muumuu grandma hearts shoes. looking for work.

I love how christmas presents always end up subliminal. Such as, YELLOW MUUMUU, grandma hat + scarf, kitchen appliances and accessories, parrot dish-ware, recipe book, apron, leather gloves= my family thinks im an eccentric black grandma. and i don't know if thats pc or not. 

merry christmas from the costa rican hood m***** f*****!!!!!!!!!!

 p.s. ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS A JOB

and shoes

home-ish (where the heart is?)

this video always summarizes life.  so beautiful and imperfect. in other news, it is also from one of my favorite movies starring charlotte gainsbourg and johnny depp. in other news, i got to costa rica. slept for 14 hours. and i feel like a dehydrated vegetable that was tossed into a pot of lukewarm water. like austen powers in the defreezing scene.

the ruse of bloom

last night i dreamed i was studying outside in pure pure hot temperate early fall Colorado and a guy approached me from behind....I said hi...then he leaned over my shoulder to show me an abstract penis drawing that supposedly a famous person drew in the book i was reading (Ulysses obviously.) According to the guy who was pointing this out to me, the famous person who drew the abstract penis was really high at a swimming pool when he drew it. As this person leaned over me to say this, he got closer and closer. he was talking, whispering kinda and i could feel his breath on my cheek. and then he stopped right there. cheek against my cheek. frozen like that, lips about two inches apart. and then his lips got closer ...and then i angled my lips towards his lips  imagine the outside corner of each set of lips. so hot, the lips just barely touching, i could feel my heart beat in my lips and then long pause and then 

 

it was just like that. in broad daylight. sunlit, on a bench, just out front of matthias. just one single infinite side angled soft wet kiss of corner lips that didn't assume anything at all. had no intention but itself. 

 

and then i woke up. and it was gray but not quite snowing.

reality is so harsh. 

this is one of my favorite dylan songs covered by the white stripes. for some reason, theres a memoirs of a geisha homage playing during the song in this clip. which is cool with me. 

 

i call this look "farm girls head explodes due to Ulysses 'the ruse of bloom' paper"

Manifest Sexiness

the crafty sex of disco dance

is merely

mechanized defensiveness

manifested in sexiness.

Our generation’s attention deficit

means

we forget to question

our investment in

pregnancy prevention-

we forgo redemption

in the service of severance packages.

And then Kurt’s heart shaped box

Is filled with pavement rocks.

 

and then We’ve out grown  

pretty pink frocks and

the dumb jock just wasn’t hot enough for us.

 

You raised us!

we are saucy foxes who want

the works:

The job, its perks,

a money filled

Prada purse

and we'll sure as hell work

for other jerks like us, cunts

with purpose.

whats worse,

is this purpose hurts

But we don’t hurt

Until too late

And nothing is worse

than too late.

 

because hurting is so sexy,

bondage is so sexy,

whips are sexy,

like x-ray (flash of feminine intuition) and

Kevlar (momma bear instinctual-ness latent in each of us)

we protect our hearts

by bruising them.

Defusing them

into misuse

as though they were bombs

and not breathing life into us.

shoes+rant+poem+pictures

Heres some shoes I love.

and heres a snotty ass rant

cc parties with people i don't care about are like seas of floating dead ghosties like the one near mordor in Lord of the Rings. creepy inanimate flotation. sallow. boozy.hard to engage in, somewhat threatening but mostly just boring. 

 

its always the same people and its always the same waka waka waka chit chat waka. 

 

blah blah blah. thats all i hear.

 

for once, i have no desire to entertain.

 

and i know that sounds funny, or narcissistic, or something, but for me, ITS A RELIEF. because my entertainment compulsion is one EXHAUSTING defense mechanism. 

also: so fucking sick of dancing to dubstep womp dirrrty glitch witch beat stuff i could CRY. unless its live. OTHERWISE, fuck off with this party killing music. its  good live. its good driving. its good studying sometimes its not good not live at a party. 

 

there. i said it. 


reibroham.

Galactic Cannibalism

I heard what was said of the universe, heard it and heard it of several thousand years; it is middling well as far as it goes -- but is that all? –Walt Whitman

 

Sometimes, one

galaxy swallows another,

star by star,

creating collisions from dust.

 

Pieces of sky rusted

to explosive pixie thimbles

and rose gold

magically combust.

 

Like hair ringlets

of electric-tar,

twines of stars

curl into one another.

 

These explosions shed

violent particles which

we cannot see

because their hues

shred finer than

rainbow.

 

Invisible tendrils of excited electrons

swathe acres of grass

and human graves-

 

And none of this

Can be seen.

The eye is too small.

 

Too small for noticing

the elegant curve

that glances between two beings

in a moment-

 

Such as

the aura of warmth

that a hand has

as it does not touch another-

but nearly, one finger caresses

the air above.

 

Too small for noticing
Baby hairs as they spine-
Remembering secrets
Which lips divulged,
Sweating crimson to coral.
 
And yet,
Everyday,
Human galaxies pull into one another,
Entangling stars
With an energy that is too colossal to be seen. 
 

p.p.s. 

I HATE GIRLS WHO SPEAK BABY TALK. shut the fuck up. not taking yourself seriously is one thing. prefacing your opinions with...."I feel like" and "maybe" and "like" is one thing...

baby talk is equivalent to impotence of identity. YES. a bonerless identity. nonperforming.

 

YES. thats exactly what I mean. 

reil-ed up brohims again. 

she hates her outfit. she's changing as i type this. 

I call  these "looks" Christmas gets punk'd

 

ok we're happy now. hippie skeleton punks pc CC xxxmas "ice age". 

LOVE YOU LAURA. love you all!!

 

obligatory Black Swan post. too beautiful to pass up.

 

when it comes to visuals....first and foremost i love beauty and i love twisted.

where o where art thou black swan? not gracing us with your presence in the springs? not available for thieving on the internets? thats a little annoying....but

basically this is the only new movie I've wanted to see for like 9 months now. inception? yeah whatever. i want pretty. Daniel Radcliffe looks like a fetus.  

 

(btw, the movie posted above is not the trailer. its costume close ups.)

p.s. im going to take this moment to bitch about how sick i've been for the past year. WHAT THE FUCK MONO, FLU/SINUSINFECTION, FLU/SINUSINFECTION, FLU/SINUSINFECTION, SHINGLES, CURRENTLY FEVEROUS 103DEGREES.

 

what the fuck?? 8 months of being sick. WHAT IN THE HELL.

"It's not catastrophes, murders, deaths, diseases, that age and kill us; it's the way people look and laugh, and run up the steps of omnibuses"

one of my favorite books....and a great influence on Ulysses