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January 21st, 2004
11:10 pm - pet potential.
this (scottish fold purebred)
or.
that (french bulldog purebred)
both cost between 1400 and 2000 dollars after shipping costs, so it's not like i could afford either. but still.
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January 19th, 2004
03:07 pm - more fashion questions; expect this to continue for a while.
thanks for the input on the previous questions and keep responding if you have not yet (and you're opinionated, because if you really don't care about pop fashion, then you don't and that's fine). i am performing fashion surveys for personal research. i may be asking about other pop vices, guilty pleasures, and genuine treasures.
NEXT QUESTION (if you own any of this fashion, your input is especially needed):
what are your thoughts on:
1. flexible breathable high-heeled sneaker-material pumps with rubber bottoms (or just sneakerpumps)?
2. wrestling boots/sneaker boots with high heels?
3. the high-heeled pastel (or classic colored) timberlands?
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11:53 am - questions
1. how do you feel about last summer's satin/silk cargo pant trend (the ones that are baggy but can tie around the ankles)?
2. how do you feel about terry/velour active/loungewear (like juicy brand items for instance)?
these are important inquiries, please respond if you are opinionated.
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December 25th, 2003
03:52 pm - everybody else is doing this.
- a 2004 escalade in midnight shimmering black (custom) with 22 inch svarovski crystal encrusted rims from my mom and dad
- 400 shares of pepsico stock from my great uncle (willed: he passed on christmas eve, wasn't really a gift but it sure as hell ain't no curse)
- 20 exclusive, rare mac pro pigments which i will turn around and sell one by one on ebay for four times what they are worth
- a louis vuitton murakami speedy
- some gross creme de la mer scrub for park avenue grandmas and j-lo
- a scottish fold kitten which i've named unibrow mcgee
- a french bullpuppy which i've named poptart bonaparte
- a pair of jimmy choo boots and a pair of manolo blahnik stilhettos
it was a rough christmas.
(but still, i got that awesome trip to shantytown and a gorgeous print/card featuring a truck from ingrid)
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December 19th, 2003
11:12 pm - a few of my favorite things (now)
http://www.rathergood.com
smoked gouda + roasted red bell pepper + spicy brown mustard + 2 wheat crackers as incredible delicious portable slightly messy snacktime treat
the decemberists
mac shadow layering: vex + mythology + honey lust, though from personal experience crystal + idol eyes + creme de violet gets you more compliments on your makeup
learning to knit though failing miserably
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December 7th, 2003
11:06 am - winter & yarn
apparently i'm really bad at keeping journals. even my sketchbooks have been lacking lately, though i've managed to continue to doodle on my at-a-glance desk calendar at work. every day, a different seasonally-themed doodle. little blushing boys in a cross-calendar snowball fight. snowmen opting for winter beanies in place of the usual too-formal-for-the-frontyard tophats. wreaths, menorahs, and everything in between. christmas trees, snowflakes, shovels, my calendar is december encapsulated and illustrated, free for all to see, a tiny paper wonderland, and all the bosses cringe at my obvious disdain for my daily tasks.
it's fine, at least i haven't started in with my weird creepy birds-in-wardrobe kick yet. wait until march.
i don't think it's as weird and creepy as it could be, though. at least i'm not going the route of kiki smith and actually making little sweaters for dead birds. which isn't creepy to me. but handling dead birds' bodies... despite amanda's repeated offers to visit chicago to go see all the dead birds in the drawers of the natural history museum.. i don't know if i could touch a dead bird, but i think what smith did was somehow endearing and sweet, and represented a nostalgia, to wrap a symbol of what has passed in a symbol of warmth and affection.
i bought a fucking rad "scarl" - rather, k did for me as an in-your-face christmas present that i picked out and she paid for - at the craft fair yesterday. intended to be a shawl but worn as a scarf, it's pale yellow with sparse tinselled yarn sections (and tassel fringe) and looks like it has been created using a fragile type of crochet/macrame. the result is broomstick lace, i believe they call it. all the ladies at the craft store today went nuts for it. i wish i had made it myself. but i've taken to the needles in a haphazard fashion, or tried to, at least. i'm in the process of teaching myself to crochet and knit (books friends and relatives pitch in advice).
today i discovered a book called "crochenit" with special crochenitting needles. i stayed away, knowing my hardcore crocheting grandmother would disapprove of such a hybrid method. and plus, nothing but special crochenit crap calls for the crochenit technique - there are no crochenit sweater vests.
plus, crochenit looks like the name of a weird microscopic insect infestation in one's junk.
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September 20th, 2003
05:32 pm
i feel sort of nauseous that i actually feel disappointed and almost sad but not in an emo-weepy way that i could not go see cursive at hamilton wednesday.
i don't even know what kind of crowd goes to that show but i'm assuming many thin white boys in tight small shirts and rolled jeans and chucks. who sometimes try to rock it out? i'm unsure. i would have only stood far away. and crossed my arms. i even did that at shows where i wanted to not do that. for instance, this stance should never be taken at a gossip show, it's a faux pas. but i would. i would not dance. and i committed the faux pas knowingly, certainly looking up at beth with apologetic eyes - all like, "dude, come on, i'm not dancin'. i just won't." at most i'd give an enthusiastic hop when a song i enjoyed came on, since i couldn't throw high-fives like i did when i saw poison and cece ripped the opening riffs of "unskinny bop."
somehow, at a cursive show i don't think i'd feel so out of place with crossed-arms-stance (and the occasional reverent nod, the tiny cranial bow that says "yes, mister tim kasher, i do in fact enjoy your music, very much so, and i think i would have paid up to twenty dollars to come here tonight, which is more than twice the nine dollar entrance fee").
but, i had employment obligations. i am in a class with my boss. she and i are both taking "consumer lending" with a robust instructor named phil who has this rad scar that crosses his right eyebrow and the surgery that resulted in that scar actually pulled his face into this pucker, sort of, so it's as if his eyebrow (not his eye) were squirted with lemon juice and it winced and cringed at once. it doesn't move, it just stays there with a historical reserve only earned when you have a rad facial scar that probably has a mundane story.
but i like to pretend phil was a pirate before he was a banker.
Current Music: cursive
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September 15th, 2003
01:43 am
also, not that i often - or ever - post images of animals i am enamored with (as i do not keep pets, refer to previous post about divine prevention of my pet ownership status), but those who keep tabs on me or have seen any of my recent drawings are aware of my bird interest. i do not birdwatch (but would like to, had i the patience). i did buy a birdfeeder today though.
and a month ago i purchased an encyclopedia of north american birds and found what i believe to be the cutest bird ever (this is somewhat spurred by reading sho's recent livejournal run-in with a crazed duck fanatic): the elf owl. with a stature of 5 to 6 inches, a weight of approximately one and a half ounces, and a diet of large insects like beetles and scorpions, i have fallen for the tiny hideaway owl, the smallest of all the owls. owls, for the most part, are predators without any significant natural enemies. owls are essentially furry nocturnal hawks with turnaround heads. but who could ever fear this tiny wonder? i'd fear his diet long before i'd fear him. i am going to draw him in an oversized business suit. next to a matchbox convertible.
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August 13th, 2003
August 10th, 2003
07:41 pm - attention ingrid
ingrid:
um, i forgot, but since you are printmaster aka tiny norwegian max in a girl body, tell me something: what the fuck is chine colle again?
it sounds dirty, but i'm fairly sure it pertains to printmaking, which is dirty, but not in a naughty way that demands discretion.
thanks. and my vacay is in a month so maybe we can "chine colle" together then... UH OH!
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March 9th, 2003
01:29 pm - MAC products i adore and consequently recommend
spring is coming, and it's shopping time for me. i like to talk product around this time of year. i went to mac for an aforementioned makeover (in some past journal entry) and it was wonderful, insightful, amazing, and it took two hours, two hours of delicious free fun that resulted in my purchasing of many MAC items.
the revelation: somehow i never knew i had developed dry skin. i thought it was oily because, apparently, i have a deepseeded fear of any shine at all (when all those shine and grease creams came out two summers ago, i rebeled and went supermatte). needless to say, a coup d'etat occurred in my skincare regime, there was an overhaul of my facial arsenal. so this list would have been different a month ago.
* MAC moisturefeeds, both skin and eye. if you have unevenly textured dry skin but dream of silky soft-like-a-peach-or-an-infant's-butt skin, you need moisturefeed for skin. if you drink too much and get up early for no reason at all and get puffy i-didn't-sleep-enough eyes, you need eye feed. i am such a convert. the fifty bucks (for the combo) is well worth it.
* MAC blot films. they're plastic. i don't know what to say. they're plastic and blue and the mac artist who recreated my face didn't know how they worked, but said they were magical. they are.
* MAC fix+. it has caffeine in it. no one knows that i sleep as little as i do.
* 
MAC Select SPF 15. it's their new foundation. i was a studiofix girl. i bought this in NW20. because i've switched to moisturefeed which doesn't have spf. this is nice when used with...
* MAC colour corrector in green and peach. the green is for my face, i dilute it with moisturefeed and apply with a brush because i'm so red all the time. the peach i use fullstrength around the eyes. i don't need a lot of either product, they'll last me a solid year.
* MAC pop mode lipglass with MAC plum lipliner. the fucking hottest. once spring hits, i'll be wearing it everyday. right now it's in twice-per-week rotation.
* MAC glossette laquer with MAC brick lipliner. remember when the eighties was all about seasonal palettes "ooh she's a winter girl" and daytime and evening looks? well this is a winter evening look that would work for a daytime look on a summer girl.
* MAC eye kohls in blooz and tarnish. creamy-smudgy-smoky, my new favorite pencil liners.
* MAC frost lipstick in new york apple.
* MAC sheertone blush in coygirl.
* MAC shadows in beauty marked, sushi flower, creme de violet, shroom. i don't wear them altogether at once though, but i could try.
* MAC brush cleaner. and brushes 236, 266, 252, 228, and 190. 190 is a must-have for cream foundations. bigger brushes i admittedly buy at target because their sonia kashuk brushes are natural bristles, thus hold up to MAC's brush cleaner. they're actually decent, and are about 1/6th the price of MAC's. art brushes, i use as well, but large natural bristle art brushes can cost as much as MAC's depending on the brand of brush and quality of bristle. i do buy fan brushes, some angled brushes, and minute-tipped brushes for cosmetics from the art store.
i've bought only perhaps three MAC items i didn't like, and i've bought many i love, but the above listed i wouldn't trade for a pony.
if anyone wants a mac lacqer in shellac or an eyeshadow in fiction, both only tested (i mean, i tried them in the store, but once home, and once they were on my face, i somehow hated them), let me know.
i can't help it. i love talking makeup, even if only to my journal.
if certain darlings want springtime MAC treats they'd better drop me hints and wishes. some ladies, no matter how broke, find reasons to be generous come the first flowers. it balances out how shallow and expensive all of my little habits are.
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February 28th, 2003
12:14 am
also: i would truly fall in love with a cigarette right now, and perhaps adore it for the rest of my life.
it's been too long and now i can no longer recall why i ever quit.
if you still enjoy it, and still have a false sense of health, why not spend it all away in the bliss of america's finest hobby? (and it is, very much, a hobby)
Current Mood: fiendish
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February 22nd, 2003
02:14 pm
best country song, ever, of all time: jolene by dolly parton
somewhat unfortunately i had only heard the white stripes' cover of it until i heard the original on a country station driving home from a whiskey-and-beer bar for truckers and trailers last weekend. i can get the whiskey down but i don't like it, but i can put anything back and i'm not afraid. it's all nyquil. i hate nyquil but in the depth of winter i always become congested and need something to put me down for the night. certainly, nyquil green is the worst, nyquil red ain't nothin' like a shot of cherry juice though. either way, both i swallow back and chase with tap water. whiskey leaves less aftertaste, a bit more burn. cheap tequila is similar, even when chased with citrus.
i returned bottles on the northside today, standing in the cold damp corridor of this strange vinyl-sided three story box building. it houses several businesses apparently, but the front hallway is where you stand to wait for bottle return. you walk through the door and everything is coated with a slick of bootmuck and bottlemold, old beerwater and sodasyrup. everything smells, everything reminds you of greasy damp cardboard, everything is wood-paneled, cement-floored. dingy and dirty. dusty bottles they could not sell away or return but liked the looks of line some upper shelves. four employees work at once: two sorters, one crusher, one counter. at the counter you put your junk, they weed out two-liters and crush them, send them down to be sorted by brand. i was apprehensive about dumping my bag of glass, thinking it would break. the owner in flannel, with a cigarette dangling between her lips, said "don't worry, it's fine, it won't break, i've seen them roll onto the floor, won't hurt 'em any."
i got sixteen bucks and change. i owed kerry ten, i owe the bartender a good tip, i owe my dad four hundred that he'll never see and we're both aware.
how boring is my life that going to bottle exchange is a vivid experience? well, in my own defense to my own criticism, it had been one of the three? four? shops/businesses in this town in which i had never stepped foot.
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February 15th, 2003
02:27 pm
it is too cold to walk around downtown and take pictures of old buildings, but that's what i want to do today, because the sun is bright and would be adequate photo light.
valentine's day was highlighted only by banging down Red Cat, tastes like Cat Piss in a Red Cat Shaped Bottle. i normally enjoy rieslings, but not eight-dollar-rieslings-in-animal-shaped-bottles. i did see a sutter home chardonnay four pack at the liquor store. screw top eight? ounce glass bottles of wine, like something you could pack in a lunchbox and bring with you to work.
"hey i'm running over to starbucks. you want a cup of coffee, jon?"
"no, ron, that's okay, i think i'll have this little bottle of chardonnay with my egg mcmuffin."
i am so very sleepy, i must go take a small nap.
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November 30th, 2002
11:46 pm
meet dj pissypantz funkytrunx, part-time tripper, full-time poopy.
he's part-mine. he lives on my mother's farm, seeing as how he's a herderdog, more specifically, a biter. he bites the heels of cows to move them through gates (hence his official breed name: the Australian Heely). he stayed the week at my house though, and he had the time of his life. he bit and chewed everything. my father has two leper hands, covered with puppy-tooth-sized sores. he ripped up some shoes, he pissed and shat on the carpet (never on any non-carpet surface). he barked at the vacuum cleaner. i'd slide a wire hanger underneath the french doors of the living room, he'd bark furiously, seeing me on the other side of the glass and seeing this strange attack item glide lazily, tauntingly, before him.
in other words, the dog's a friggin' spaz. it was fun to have him here, though. his real name is "perry" (i say it's from steve perry ex-lead singer of journey) but i call him poopy for short, his full name being dj pissypantz funkytrunx because of his scandalous past as an avid raver. ever seen the snl skit "dog show?" that's me and the pomo-poopy, we totally create canine dialogues.
Current Music: norah jones
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November 25th, 2002
07:25 pm - on the topic of art and hipness.
i remember during one spring day i was at the holland tunnel gallery in brooklyn. i was walking up the driveway to le shed du beaux artes du Le Depot du Home and there, on the ground, was a Cometbus zine, like the place was owned by hipsters who casually tossed about their zines on the driveway, perhaps as proof to the gallery visitors that they were indeed more than the epitome of the brooklyn self-annointed DIY gallerists. indeed - they were also qualified hipsters, with a degree on the wall showing the achievement of the prestigious "bachelors of ironi-cliche thrift store jeans that don't fit your flat ass right." (and no, they never do, and no, the cliche isn't that funny.) anyhow, i wanted to pick it up and read it as i had never read Cometbus before, but then it was like, i couldn't... it was their stuff, just not in their house. i hadn't actually found it on a sidewalk. i couldn't make it mine. perhaps it had definitely been purposefully placed there, thoughtfully...
until some ratty hipster in said ironi-cliche jeans came out, picked it, dusted it off, and with an aching level of apathy and sheer hipness, flipped through a few pages as he strolled back into the house packing his box of Native American Endangered Species Organic Tobacco Spirit smokes against his thigh.
this thought popped into my mind recently.
no one can say the art scene ain't so individuality-obsessed that it's become boring and entirely predictable. i suppose i get thrown into that too, if we're lumping, and i'm lumping, and if you're reading this then we're lumping together... anyhow, there's lumping of any one art-involved into this, because i said so, and because it's true, because it's very evident. there have been times when i've been greatly inspired... PS 1 is a good place to go for that, the new museum usually impressed me, i was actually a sucker for the met because it was like the wal*mart of art (low-to-free prices (of admission), huge selection). but sometimes i'd go to five or six shows in chelsea and although the art appeared different, there was always this thread that bound them to this theme of identityism, of individuality that wasn't celebrated but demonstrated to prove its existence.
regardless, it provided cheap distractions (like a tacky horror movie ... especially if you saw anything by hirst or mccarthy) and bittersweet eyecandy.
on the other hand, yesterday i attended church for the first time in over a decade. the church had a band (you sing along to lyrics displayed on screens illuminated by powerpoint, rather than to hymnals on the pew in front of you), so i told all my friends that i didn't go to church, that i just went to a "show." i can say i went to see reliant k.
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November 20th, 2002
04:54 pm - small treasures large pleasures
today i went to the salvation army. i did not find a typewriter.
today i found a picture at the salvation army that featured jesus looking dewy and deliciously younger than 33 but definitely on his way out because he had that queenish thorny tiara on.
i did not buy it.
i did buy a children's book about a sparrow, an instructional book on dental care aimed towards the early sixties' adolescent audience, a book on appliance repair complete with inane diagrams... other books perhaps. i have not opened the bag since one hour ago.
a photo of a castle in scotland, sealed on a piece of board, with some penciled words "best wishes from mother and dad" on the back. written in that handwriting that was only taught during the 1920s - 1940s. it was in a ziploc bag. the cashier, who continually announced that the prices on the books were far too high and subsequently slashed them (they originally ranged from 99 cents to 1.99), looked at the picture and said "interesting items, sometimes." i just nodded. the only actual words i replied, before/during/after her whole price-and-interesting-item-monologue, were "thank you." i nodded quite often though.
quite often indeed.
be nice and smile and nod and people will like you no matter what, even if that doesn't make them want to sleep with you.
sometimes i actually crave cafteria food from elementary school. i like to read the school menus in the local newspaper. when there are school lunch menus in the saturday edition of the local paper, you know you live in a small town. i also like to read the meals on wheels menus. i particularly enjoy the division between dinner and supper. dinner is a hot wholesome meal, a main dish usually accompanied by a vegetable, a bread item, and dessert of fruit cocktail suspended in gelatin with whipped topping. however, supper is a cold item, a sandwich usually, with a cookie or fruit for dessert. that is all. an egg salad sandwich on enriched white bread and a sliced bartlett pear or a medium portioned peanut butter cookie.
as a little girl i loved to draw food, and color food, and write about meals that characters in my short fiction would eat, because food was sensuous, and involved tastes, smells, colors, texture, even sound as you ingested/digested (i never went to the egestion part, that simply was not my fetish). i loved to look at the technicolor photos of all the recipe cards in my mother's 1975 era plastic box of betty crocker. something she scored from collecting the boxtops of cake mixes. i dreamt of going to beautiful parties in aqua chiffon and pastel pink taffeta (together) with whipped topping hair with ribbons. and eating those dishes... punches with floating fruit and sherbet and sparklers... a cake shaped to look like a log cabin to celebrate lincoln's day. oh yes, when i grew up, i'd have a lincoln's birthday party, with log cabin cake, sherbet punch, and my fabulous whipped topping hair. i'd do nearly anything to get my hands on that betty crocker recipe box... this is why ebay exists i suppose, for people with urges like my own.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/acedia/littlegent/exhausted.gif) exhausted
Current Music: frank black and the catholics
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August 26th, 2002
09:06 pm
so you know how when you're driving in your car on a four-lane highway and you pass someone... they seem to be going backwards as you pass them (in astrological terms this is called "retrograde") because you're simply going faster and at one point you two were at the same point but it was brief then you kept going and it seems as if they go back... do you know what i mean?
yeah. i sympathize with the deception of that phenomenon.
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August 25th, 2002
12:10 am - strike dear mistress and cure his heart
i am writing letters to those who deserve letters; i am listening to music i have been longing to hear all day.
this is what it's like to get things done i suppose.
i miss making art every time i read about an artist's untimely demise.
i want to go buy boots of shiny, shiny leather, shiny leather in the dark. every time i hear "venus in furs" i picture le grande odalisque by ingres.
if heaven exists, it smells like vanilla cake batter.
if this journal were literal and not "virtual" it would have collected dust by now.
there are a quite a few people who deserve correspondence and i've stalled on responding.
an overdue example:
dear amanda who knows if you'll ever read this give me your address please how's chicago new york state isn't the same without you it knows you're gone and it's sorry it ever said those nasty things about your shoes it wants you back baby tell chicago hello for me not that we're acquainted
(it's a different sort of missing, it's like missing you and knowing that you're a plane ride away not a train ride away, it's like advanced missing).
vwah-lah.
Current Music: the velvet underground
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May 1st, 2002
10:47 pm - pissbeer and a not necessarily peckerish art scene
like, john waters is really cute, like dreamboatgrandpa-artfag cute, in real life (his assistant is not so cute). i was really surprised that he drank Jever beer. like, he said hi asked for a beer and today i told a that even though i kept it minimal professional inside i was gushing. i wanted to tell him how much ricki lake had an impact on me growing up when she was in hairspray, like i totally loved her, i wanted to be her, dancing with the cute boy on the b&w tv in baltimore. and i love pecker, i love the idea of irony in art (and fashion) as represented by pecker, i love that john waters is showing in the gallery i work at and that he showed up for the opening. it's fucking great. his art does not look like the photography in pecker though i thought that maybe it would. it doesn't. i would buy the piece if i could afford it... right after i bought the piece commemorating Saint Eazy-E.
so anyway, i wanted to talk more to him but i played bartender and stayed quiet. his moustache is cute, i swear, even if it did need a trim.
oh my god did i just namedrop? i did but fuck it i don't care, i really like his work and i get all 'cited whenever i meet an artist i like in any context. call it namedropping if you want but people are people and real people drink pissbeer and by that standard, john waters is fucking real and some of his films shaped my upbringing, seriously, because my mom likes john waters films. he even got drinks for his assistant. that's real enough for me. i wish i had been wearing my divine pin on my tie instead of my pink skull and crossbones. maybe that could have instigated something.
the opening did not look like the nyc art scene of pecker... well, i mean, less than half the crowd did.
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