Wednesday, October 28, 2009


Dear Shaun White...
I want your hair.
I want your canines.
I want you too.
Um, why?


In case you were worried more than usual over this, I am up to sane things too. I am thinking of taking up surfing, conversational arabic and pro tennis and beach volleyball (I can't think of any other sport that rewards you with a more perfect body). I will also be blogging for the home girls over at Bitching and Junkfood (stay tuned) and I am working on my fiction again because I was shortlisted for this university competition to meet one on one with an agent in London and have them consult my work (fingers crossed because that means an instant ticket to London next month courtesy dad if I win this). 'Tis all. Carry on.


3 new albums I think are probably worth getting right now.


I know, finally, some word from me. It's because I am no longer teaching 16 year old's locked up in their palace rooms, or 10 year old twenty somethings at academies rolling in indifferent money. I am in my room, writing Fiction once again and making my way around the editorial offices of the world begging my way into their lives (all the while listening to Siouxsie and the Banshees/Chopin/Gustavo Santaolalla/Dimmu Borgir/The Doors/Simian Mobile Disco...); and I am beginning to think that a sales job at Topshop will suffice.

Okay, not quite yet.

Anyway, today I am going to talk about Asian people. It's true they hold a great deal of space in my heart and head (none more so than the obvious boyfriend - must say that because I can already see him scowling). But I already talk about him quite a lot so today I'll talk about Ji Kim of Luxirare and Haruki Murakami.

As usual, all I have to do to illustrate to you the poetry of Ji Kim's web presence is provide you with a couple pictures from her site:

That 'To the Floor' post will be the death of you. Be careful. And conveniently, it is pinned up at the side of my brain labeled Halloween Inspiration (decided to go it safe with the Couturable Vampire route - anyone know where I can find some durable fangs? Want to wear them well after H is over, to snarl at some of the local Arab girls while shopping - and yes, as late as I may be, True Blood has infiltrated, not that I wasn't already a smitten wannabe fang-banger). To reassure you that it is indeed Kara speaking though, Halloween aside, those outfits are more than wearable on a daily basis and I would gladly accept a wardrobe consisting solely of those pieces!

And Murakami. Well, I've been talking about him semi-non-stop for the past week. Just finished this one this morning on the way to work.

Not my favourite, but I've only just gotten started on his many works and am still on the lookout for Kafka on the Shore, which doesn't seem to exist over here, but which Becks strongly recommends. If I myself had to recommend any so far, it would definitely be After Dark - it's the oddball Japanese love story between young people who don't sleep, in a city that doesn't either - always takes my heart. Anyway, here's a passage from South of the Border.. that I absolutey adored.

Her hand, which up till then had lain on the back of the sofa, she now placed on her knee. I stared vacantly at her fingers tracing the plaid pattern of her skirt. There was something curious about it, as if invisible thread emanating from her fingertips was spinning together an entirely new concept of time. I closed my eyes, and in the darkness, whirlpools flashed before me. Countless whirlpools were born and disappeared without a sound. Off in the distance, Nat King Cole was singing 'South of the Border'. The song was about Mexico, but at the time I had no idea. The words 'south of the border' had a strange, appealing ring to them. I was convinced something utterly wonderful lay south of the border. When I opened my eyes, Shimamoto was still moving her fingers along her skirt. Somewhere deep inside me I felt an exquisitely sweet ache.

Yes! GO GO GO!

Thursday, October 22, 2009


I can tell I'm going to regret this.

Not that I definitely need any given material purchase, but I've spent the last 10 milliseconds convincing myself that I DEFO need these Gal Stern tights I just spotted on awesome new website Bitching and Junkfood. And if you dear click to buy them as captioned, you'll be wearing an eye-patch long before you can even start sleeping with one eye open (huh?). Anyway, I'm just glad my UK bank account is still flourishing and my card still works. I just might be able to have these in my possession after all.


So the lyrical headers are back, and so am I. I've been working non-stop this whole week so that should explain my lack of posts. I apologize. But today was a good day. I did only things that I fancied doing, smiled, sat and spent my own hard-earned money at my own leisure on frivolous little things that made me happy for an hour. And now, instead of spiraling into my usual sleepy 10 o'clock depression over what crisp shirt to wear, lesson plans and disgustingly early mornings, I am celebrating the nonthingness of tonight's schedule by nursing the blog and a glass of red. Before that, I ate salmon sashimi for dinner over some fiction, and before that I rented a bike for an hour and rode along the glittery water-front while listening to:

Regarding The XX's new/debut(?) album - not feeling it, which is a shame because the first time I saw them years back at Hoxton Square Bar and Kitchen, I was musical putty and instantly wanted to have a three-way snog session with both vocalists (particularly Romy) (not that three-way snogging is remotely sexy/fun). I must've spent at least 3 odd posts raving about them on my old blog - they were that good. And I personally think the new album is missing their whole point completely, if I can even claim to know their point to begin with, but I think I can). And yet, it is one of those bands I just can't shake for the life of me, and so I am sure that if I DO go back to London before year end as intended, I will no doubt find myself awkwardly close to the stage ogling them once more (and this makes me want to curse).

It took me a really long time to write this post. I remember opening it talking about how lovely my day was, just fucking around in my own little world. To conclude, however, all I really have to say is that I feel pathetic and irrelevant, especially since my sister and her friends (who are at a party) just called and asked if I could cover for one of the girls if her father calls by saying I am on an overseas call so dial another number to find her.

Also the scanner isn't co-operating tonight so I can't do my next post.

And why is Dubai Fashion Week an invitation only event?

And why am I in possession of all this money with no one to spend it on/with?

Okay. Sorry. Leaving.

Saturday, October 17, 2009


SHUBH DIVALI, GUYS! (Divali is the Hindu festival of light over darkness and good over evil and it's awesome and it's always been a part of my childhood). I went SCOURING THE EARTH for the little clay pots they put oil and wicks in and light at night (deyas) and a handful of my favourite Indian sweets. Found neither, but I sampled some new sweets today and am on a major sugar rush. It is a good day.

I also went shopping with my mum. I swear, no one else trumps shopping with my mum. She totally gets it (or rather, I get it from her?) We were looking at these chains and necklaces in this stuffy little Indian store and trying them on our heads. The store employee informed us they were not head bands ("we know. it's ok"). Then I picked out a couple great minty green beaded necklaces, which turned out to be, the store employee informed us, muslim prayer beads. He was a little worried after that, but we left very happy kids.

Also, you'll die over the new handbag I found in the crevice of a sweaty little tailor's shop today, but for now, I'm going to have to just leave you with my new Kill City 100 shot (it should go up on the Kill City 100 website soon, I think) because my camera has just died spectacularly on me. These are my 2 favourites (there's always only ever like 1 or 2 good shots of me out of a trillion appalling ones). Anyways, Panda is an awesome, patient photographer who tolerates my absolute un-model-like behaviour in front of the lens (I pretty much play dead in every shot because posing is embarassing as fuck). Can I just say, most comfortable skinnies ever!? And the jacket is so much more sexy in person than in any pic here or on their website. I got it for Panda and have a hard time deciding whether I want to leave it on him forever or seductively rip it off (or wear it myself!).

Which face is less ugly? Anyway, doesn't matter, already sent in the 1st one (but we can choose for my right column?) Okay. I've had a really interesting, busy week and I want to make good use of the remaining hours of my weekend. Scamper off and do the same.

Monday, October 12, 2009


WAH Magazine did a travel directory on where to be seen around Los Angeles and it's on the mark, except for a couple of places I'd like to add.

Space 15 Twenty is a must. There's always something going on there that you have to be a part of. I was probably there more than 4 times in my last month visiting, whether it was for a monstrous, leaking vegetarian burger and sweet potato fries at their snack bar, or for an opening reception for whatever hip viral shit that's coming out soon (Where the Wild Things Are - oh and I finally got those pictures! Watch this space!), or for an open air 80's movie (Ferris Bueller's Day Off) intact with pirate-sounding bums thoroughly enjoying every minute of their film experience, or just for shopping my life away at the massive Urban Outfitters and surrounding uber shops. With that said, if you call yourself an arty-farty scenester-cum-leather-jacket-wearing, non-metal/punk-listening kid, then haunt this space or leave LA!

And secondly, for my sick fuckers around the world, Necromance. By far, the best thing I came away from LA with (apart from my relationship with Panda, which seems to dismantle every time I visit) were those winding earrings you saw me wearing on The Cobrasnake. They're actually snakes, and that's probably one of the least creepy things you'll find at Necromance. They've got 2 stores really, neighbouring each other on Melrose Ave. One, a bone collector's heaven on earth (also where you'll find all manner of taxidermied cretin, shell and beading), the other, catering more to jewelry, accessories, macabre home decor and medical quirks. Here are some shots I begged for of the second store.

Hop to it!
GAHHH, literally just got called for an interview for a 3-day writing course that I might teach that my over-ambitious mother name-dropped me for because she couldn't take it herself (WENCH!!!...that I love). They want me to come in in about 2 hours. Course starts tomorrow. I die, and such.

Saturday, October 10, 2009


waking up with Kara. My favourite painting; something I found in my room one holiday away from Uni. I have no idea who the artist is and can't read his/her scratches. My mother said it sort of looks like me, what with the constant pout and promises of a jutting chin. Yes, sometimes I wear my hair long and straight and actually look something like that, I admit, except more brown in complexion.

Here are the latest and greatest:

Looking... tattered as per usual: sleep mask atop head, big grey hoodie and slacks; but it's only noon.
Reading... Now don't laugh, but I lost my virginity to Haruki Murakami last night. I trotted over to Magrudy's to buy a few books to last me through this month's dry spell while I search for jobs (won't tell you what else I bought as very unbecoming). Anyway, there were only a few of his titles in store so I picked up the one with a cover photo I recognised as done by Nobuyoshi Araki. It's called After Dark and I am thorouhly hypnotized. I found myself waking again 'after dark' to continue reading it so I can feel closer to the scene. He writes those simple stories that I like to write, just like my other favourite Hanif Kureishi. It's so simple though, it's like seeing a smooth stone slide past the still surface of a pond; not a spectacular occurrence but yet still causing impact and ripples and dreamy things in my brain. Plus any story about sleepless, beautiful people haunting the darkest hours of the night, and listlessly telling of what and who they encounter is bliss between book covers for me. my parents'. for now. Hey, I'm totally entitled to that at age 20. I'll be on my way soon. A Dirty Word; I'm freelance so same ole same ole, finishing up an article for Skin Two still, while plotting several smaller ones to pitch out soon.
Listening to...I can't tell you. At least not yet. I've proposed a review of it to someone. When it gets rejected, you'll be the first to know. But all I'll say is I had the greatest most happy, atmospheric, adventuristic time listening to it while walking backwards on an incline on the treadmill yesterday.
Drinking...meticulously made Milo with a few splashes of Bailey's around 5am
30 Rock; but only out of curiosity, what with all those Emmy wins a month ago.
Smelling of...damask rose; still all hung up on rose-infused products; room sprays, cold creams, toners...smells like a crone-heavy tea party up in here.
Eating...seriously the best hummous from this outlet in the nearby mall's food court called Beirut
Dreaming I've been brainstorming, pitching and writing articles in my dreams. Can you imagine how much it sucks to wake up and still have nothing done or published?
Wearing...Well, I WISH I was wearing this
Walking in... and WISH I was walking in these.
Singing... truthfully nothing. not let those stupid antiperspirant deoderant/breast cancer rumours bother me. In the same shopping trip I made yesterday for antiperspirant, I also bought a copy of Emirates Woman magazine, who later told me to drop the roll-on.
Wanting...a job. Some things may happen this coming week. Wish me luck.

*and yes, clearly I have not been in a mood to put headers on my posts. Lyrical headers are currently on hiatus until I decide what to do about them (are they so Two Thousand and Late? Because I'm starting to get bored)


magazine ad


there was this huge wall of beautiful old trunks at the Japanese American National Museum in Los Angeles.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009


I'm back home a day and already I have a couple of mag work prospects lined up, so a 9-5 existence is approaching fast. I thought ahead and stocked up on some comfy work shoes from Urban Outfitters. Originally, I only purchased the blacks because, knowing me, I'd streak and ruin the other (I'm messy and clumsy so I own next to nothing in white/cream/non-black ), but I caved in and got the others a week before I was supposed to leave. Sadly, I'm the kind of person who'll hold off on wearing those too much because of my messiness, but as for the blacks, I've been wearing them with everything lately. They're probably gonna look all worn down even before I step foot into an office for an interview.

Brogues are seriously so versatile, and I'm sorry it took me so long to acknowledge their amazingness. I'd been looking into brogues for over a year but it's really hard for my feet to make magic with a pair of fashionable shoes (actually, this is true for my body type paired with the latest fashion trends period).


SOOO, I don't feel too bad about missing my brother's birthday due to over-booked flights and a 2 day extension on my LA stay, because birthdays happen every year. I'm just happy that I got stuck in LA and DID NOT miss the Kill City and Brian Lichtenberg collaboration launch party! Sadly, my photos are on Panda's camera so I'm borrowing some of The Cobrasnake's coverage.

*Okay, I really don't have access to my snaps for this at the mo, but yes, this was partly a lame excuse for me to show my Cobrasnake debut - I think I made the 'cool' cut because of my serpent earrings (story on that shortly to come) and spiked septum ring
**free booze and free hotdogs from the amazingly popular, and diarrhea-inducing Pink's. I had a vegan one, before you argue, and I really liked it despite my bowel's behaviour the next day. My meathead boyfriend thought nothing grand of their dogs and became quite sick as well, but not before we sought out properly done dogs at this european beer and sausage grill downtown called Wurstkuche. We met friends there for a very late 'after dinner' dinner post party.
***A show of hands how many of us hate the girl in the pic above me

Apart from the BL pieces, which you can see here (and which, I assure you look even more major in person, and on person), you are going to DIE over the new shit in store as well (which I also snapped and can hopefully share with you soon <-- embarassed!). Please please please excuse my half-assedness right now - shit's been crazy, on both sides of the world.


You know you're in Abu Dhabi/Dubai when the view from your room looks like this:

Anyways, so after 2 extra days stay in LA because of over-booked flights, I've finally made it back to the Emirates (but for how long? As a stint in London is now on the brain - I think this is the start of something that will never end, this moving around business).

But California was something else this time around and I've got a small but promising pile of material pleasures to show you and a mountainous stack of memories and crazy times to entertain myself with in bed while scarfing down proper hummous - work as an extra in an independent film, partying it up at places Lindsay Lohan was spotted shamelessly taking her little sister *smirk*, covering kinky medical fetish nights with hot girls in latex administering saline injections, touring dungeons, seeing and meeting one of my favourite authors on tour, conforming to twitter, having 'whatever happens in Vegas...' moments that didn't actually STAY in Vegas, apartment hunting and shopping with boyfriends, both fantastic and embarassing blog associations leaving me with awesome free clothes or nail-biting and blog archive reviewing, and shitloads more spent with lots of new and old friends and of course, my Panda.

Speaking of Panda (who I obviously miss to shreds already), this stuffed animal I've come to sleeping with over here that my brother gave me one christmas looks curiously like Panda.

I know. Panda looks like a penguin. I know Part 2 - call me racist, but this is my boyfriend - the slanted eyes, the beak that looks like his plump lips and the hair. I cuddled it a little too closely last night (while he spooned a pillow, he said). He's been begging me to take a pic of it for ages. Anyway, I'll stick to Panda around these parts to banish any confusion.

Yes, we are that pathetic, and loving it.

Friday, October 2, 2009


Panda still hasn't offered to marry me so, not only is today the day I leave Los Angeles, but it's also the day of Kill City's launch party for their collaboration with I-shit-you-not Brian Lichtenberg!! Lauren, who works at the Melrose store, told me about it ages back so I already died 9 times over my loss. I just thought it would be nice to leave you trendy LA-ists with a little Friday evening gift (so you can't say I'm a bitch for all the flaunting I do about getting free shit from them). Anyways, here are the deets:

Today's been crazy. Panda and I shopped for secondhand furniture for his new place, he took some shots of me for Kill City, I panicked and packed, stocked up on septum piercing jewelry, and we gorged ourselves on sushi. We just came back from watching The Surrogates for kicks, then snuck into the midnight showing of Zombieland (also for kicks, and also where I started to cry over having to leave him). Now we have the luxury of sleeping for 4 hours before we rent a van, pack it with his shit and move it to his new place, have sex, cry and say goodbyes at Terminal 'Long-Distance-Blows'.

I'm also arriving the day after this huge bash my mom's been planning since before I left for L.A.. The only thing I CAN say I won't be missing is Dubai and Abu Dhabi Fashion Week and my brother's birthday on the 4th. Seriously different adventures to come soon at A Dirty Word. See you soon in a different time zone (isn't it always?).