A TOPSY TURVY STATE OF AFFAIRS

I personally think Christmas is so boring/dramatic/sad, so we try to mix shit up a little bit every year (if not with my drinking).


My brother and father so far remain the only persons terrified, whereas everyone else who drops by is excitedly running back to their cars to grab their cameras (not to mention, I've been getting numerous requests for "exclusive" photos on this). Maybe we should hang upside down crucifixes and/or weapons from it like these.

CAUGHT IN A BAD ROMANCE

Okay, I have a minute to spare before frantic movements to prepare for an impromptu flight to Trinidad via New York tonight; not to mention I just got my foot in the door with some publishing agents in London and have to get cracking on some proper fictional presentations now, along with the Skin Two feature I am still breaking my back to finish. But apart from shamelessly praising myself on those (but this IS a blog about me, hence justified), I wanted to feel like a shiny shilling for a minute over all the comments I am gathering on my posts over at Bitching and Junkfood (who is selling B&J duct tape now? - sexiest idea ever maybe?). I also thought you might want a link to my latest entry on Daphne Guinness; something I've been dying to post about for a while...

Also, they're offering a 15% discount to newbies signing up for their newsletter, so maybe you might wanna do that so you could get further ahead than me on these purchases (which I am still trying to find the money for). And they are constantly updating the site with more mesmerizing shit that it just pains me to watch. So clickity click, motherfucker!

BACKING DOWN DON'T FIGURE WHEN IT COMES AROUND

So by chance last week I went to the salon next door and got my nails done, something I never do, but decided to on a whim because I just snagged a sick pale, minty green nail colour I'm going to call Chanel Green (and because we get discounts there as my dad's airline staff). And while there, I picked up some magazine or other and found the most exciting article on these crazy Ukranian chicks shredding up the forest as part of this 150 strong tribe devoted to mastery in martial arts, boxing and duelling with medieval weapons. They're reviving ancient Amazonian tribal traditions, as well as seeking complete autonomy from men . They call themselves the 'Asgarda' and idolize Yulia Tymoshenko, the icon of the Orange Revolution and leader of the Ukrainian Fatherland party.

As bizarre as this all sounds, I can't help but be drawn to these kids and so wish I could get some disciplinary training myself up in the Carpathian Mountains (and why the hell not, as there are no longer men in my life). In addition to this, I've always had an inclination toward daggers/swords/sharp objects since I was about 13 (yes, including knife play fantasies - you know me so well) and have always wanted to learn to floor someone while wielding a fucking...scythe or something (boobs hanging out et al) - as much as the tough-sexy-girl-with-weapon act has been beaten to death by Hollywood, I still find it so appealing.

Anyway, here are some stunning photos of the girls taken by French photographer Guillaume Herbaut when he went to visit them in 2004.


Literally too cool for school (AND for fashion, what with the less than partly shaved heads!)...Taking this article in to incorporate into my lesson plan tomorrow, as well as this - because 75% of my class is burka clad.

IT'S ALL ABOUT HEARTACHE EITHER WAY

[Picture from Garance Dore]

I've already been doing my hair like this in recent times, with a more bird's nest type behaviour so apart from that, my goal is to look like this by 2010. How sophisticated is that?! Everything fits perfectly. Nothing is in excess/nothing is lacking, and a touch of personality comes into play with the cute surf-board necklace. This is how you do it! Who is this woman?!

THE CLOSEST I'VE BEEN TO A BAR WAS AT BALLET CLASS

So my mum and I picked up this Sophisticated Ladies blues compilation (Eartha Kitt, Peggie Lee, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Nina Simone etc.) yesterday and have been listening to it all night while draping an upside down Christmas tree (pictures to come). Neither one of us could sleep a wink and are back up 4 hours later listening to it again, cackling and staring at our glittering tornado creation. The album is hauntingly lovely and swanky and all but there probably isn't a hint of sophistication in it save for their voices. Pretty fucking interesting lyrics that I need to make a note of for some printed t-shirts. And you know if I'm thinking of doing that, it's not good.

Ummm...so what's been going on...? Well, my dad's 50th is tomorrow (but we don't have to worry too much about him because he already got himself the mid-life Porsche he wanted and he will simply pretend to like whatever spa treatment certificate and jazz compilation we give him, then speed off into the sunset). And my mum is getting into her frazzled yule-tide mess as she threatens to fall off ladders decking the house out in every piece of glittery/shimmery substance it can take. Mind you, it looks stunning upon finale but by Christmas Eve, we would have reached critical mass and never wanted to hear from Christmas ever again, the way she goes about this thing... (someone always throws tantrums on Christmas Day). Me? I'm not too much of a fuss anymore as long as I make exemplary ponche creme to toast with and get a tricked out smoked salmon and egg breakfast the morning of.

Okay...what else? Well, I'm slowly on the mend, although I'm not sure being back on Prozac is going to contribute much to that (but it doesn't hurt). I don't sleep or eat much and I take 9 mile stationary bike rides set on a strenuous fitness program without even breaking a sweat. My hair's grown pretty long without me even realising it...and at a time when I'd like to cut it like a boy or shave the sides (but that would be cliche). I'm a 2-day Academic Writing teacher who's, what I like to call, Moving Forward/FWD (Functioning With Depression) and who wants to pierce her left nipple. That sums it up beautifully, with a hint of TMI. But with breasts like mine, I thought you'd want to know ;p (Is there a safe way to get this done in the Emirates?). And back to lesson planning.

I DANCED ALL NIGHT, I SOLD MY SOUL

Umm...this definitely puts a lot into perspective.

Remember me giving linkage to Daul Kim's blog back in April because I thought she was rad? Well...she killed herself. One of my favourite models, an artist, this beautiful girl my age, just killed herself. Not only is it eerie because yesterday I completely flipped out and thought of killing myself, but was instead force-fed Prozac and English Breakfast tea and put to bed (feeling better now, thanks), but it's eerie because I've been following this girl's life for a while and I always used to get this haunted feeling from some of her more personal posts; like something was definitely not right; hollow, sad...I feel like I have this living, breathing, haunted memento of her on my blog roll. It's giving me the chills. Her last post is enough to have my heart racing.

And I have a question to ask other bloggers and readers: do you ever feel like there is something you could've done to help that person on your computer screen? Because you've been keeping track of their lives via RSS? Because you think you know what they're capable of? Because you are somehow really close to that person? I feel like that. Like it's a character in a book you empathize with...but they're real. I feel kind of guilty. I feel sad. I feel confused. How weird would it have been to have found out that I killed myself after you had read my last post on deciding to keep the blog, with blurry images of me being happy and drunk and going clubbing? The blogosphere is a really trippy place. I knew I should've left. It's so personal...but so distant...how can that be?....what to say? So fucking confused...

She wrote this. I liked it. RIP Daul...

i danced all night

i sold my soul

i sang a song

killed everyone

i realized space

i abandoned love

i bought blood

i hid my tears

BLAME IT ON THE A-A-A...

Fuck it. Love you fuckers.
But I'll be back. Gone drinking, dancing and sexing at Etoile.

THIS TIME, BABY, I'LL BE BULLETPROOF

Hey guys,

...so congratulations to you rare few who witnessed my breakdown the other day in a post which I've deleted as promised. All apologies, and thanks for the support. It was never my intention to tarnish my blog with crap like that, and as much as depression is the only thing governing my life right now, I won't let it happen on my watch. Honestly, I'd like to shut this whole thing down now. I'm beyond it...like I'm beyond a lot of things, including training bras, good skin, love and relationships - I just don't really want to be around or get too close to anyone or anything anymore. BUT I have a thing going with other blogs so I can't exactly just up and leave; at least not without notice. But if I continue at this rate, my feelings will be all over this thing like butter on toast and no one's gonna like the final product (and that would suck since a lot of people have started following me recently - hi, and sorry you came at such a bad time). So I'm going to take a couple of days to think about what I want to do about A Dirty Word. Maybe I'll start another blog and not tell anyone about it and see who shows up. But maybe I'll miss you fuckers to bits, recapture my thrown and continue my bullshit a refreshed person. No clue at this stage - it's all a blur. So, yeah I've brought bad news but hey, at least it's the weekend. Have a good one. x

YOU CAN UNTRAIN YOURSELF TO NOTICE

Random picture of me today, bored out of my skull after an interview with a magazine editor, and on my way to the massive Dubai Mall for this Grazia X Banana Republic sale and fashion event. Never made it because I never got the memo about Dubai making it virtually impossible to pick up a taxi between the hours of 4 and 6pm, and the one about the buses not accepting any money whatsoever. Also got extremely lost following signs to a non-existent metro station, then settled myself near the valet man at a nearby hotel in the hopes that he and his team could find me a taxi, which they couldn't. Called for one to come get me. Called back 30 minutes later and they had apparently given up on me. Finally shoved a guy out of one when they pulled up, and headed to the sole Wagamama in Dubai where I ate my usual dish (except half the size) and thought of my Wagamama frenzied friends back in London. Hadn't eaten squat all day so also ordered a side and copious wine, then headed to Trader Vic's tiki bar upstairs, where I would recommend the after dinner cocktail called White Cloud, which probably beats any dessert platter any day; AND it was happy hour, so indulged in 2 at half price before heading home. Taxi man had to wake me when we got to the station (as dessert drinks had totally nailed, not just hit, the spot), then ran for my life to catch the 2 hour bus home to Abu Dhabi. Now home watching VH1 and sipping green tea and thinking how miserable this all was.

On another note, OMG The XX is on VH1 in the Middle East - recognise their voices anywhere! Well done, kids!....but seriously, someone send me back to London. At least over there the Wagamama is a decent size, the buses take my shit coins and I can at least have a skinny boy with beautiful hair in my arms by the end of a miserable night.

FINDING THE CONSTELLATION OF THE HEART

How 'lush' (as you brits say) is this light fixture?!? Designer Winnie Lui is literally swimming through my head! I must have this full stop

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hearing the best things on Reality Hell right now, like 'Put some jingle in those balls!' (just making a note of it here so I can remember).

THIS BLACK HEART STOPS EVERY FUCKING NIGHT

Things I must have, and shouldn't be showing you, from Bitching and Junkfood...among other things.




The shredded Blind Guardian shirt, not so much (can't do cropped and not the biggest fan of shredded tees) but I would love an extra large original for sentimental value. This guy I dated (and fell head over heels for because he was a musician and oh so bad) was obsessed with them and probably had the exact same shirt (unshredded, obvs) which I THINK he wore to my 15th birthday party, which was the first time I had ever met him. He left me with a burnt version of their latest album; I hated it save for a few tracks and covers but eventually, out of love, it grew on me. I miss those days when not one fuck mattered. I dropped out of convent school and pierced my lip. Instead, I have a job interview tomorrow and am teaching Academic Writing next week, both for which the bull ring must go into hiding.

YOU COULD BE MINE

Um, so this is new. To my fellow readers, I am aware that you expect certain standards from me and this breaks most of them but I've been worrying over this post for ages, and as the song says, it's time to face up to your fears.

Okay, so Rihanna has always been on my background radar but for different reasons and now it seems I have something that we can probably validly call an obsession. Maybe. Okay, yes. Every time 'Run This Town' comes on MTV, my brother never fails to point out that the Illuminati is taking over the music industry and that Rihanna (and her new-found dark aesthetic) has recently become a brainwashed member of it. He says (and others have preached this to me before, for reasons I have no clue!) that Jay-Z (and Madonna) particularly have sold their souls to the devil in return for fame and success and that is why they keep sky-rocketing in their careers, and he says that Rihanna, her black lipstick, her SM costumes and her shaved head have become recent recruits. He says this is also what Tupac was running from, and it's evident in his lyrics. Rapper Omarion has even made speculations, among others. This may very well be true but...this appears to be the only reason I click to visit RihannaDaily.com at least 3 times a week now, cuz umm...her new evil stylist Mariel Haenn has her lookin' off the chain! I mean, I've always been a recruit for the dark side of fashion and seeing a black Caribbean "icon" portray that a little more than semi-successfully means I'm basically taking notes.

Now to elaborate on the song and her new music (her songs have Slash solos now?!) - well, I hate pretty much everything else she's sung (and that's purely personal taste, might I add for those friends back home who think I am just a hater - I was, now I'm not)but this song has just stuck for the last week (and I was listening to it way before it aired; it leaked). I just feel like since she's 'shaken hands with Satan' we're much closer to each other now, somehow. Yes, you interpreted that the wrong way - I'm not a satanist, maybe a dark aesthete but the closest I've come to the devil is a Dimmu Borgir or Satyricon album, or maybe The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Anyway, my point is I completely GET these lyrics and they've sort of become branded on my chest - it's exactly the way I feel right now in my life. There are decisions I have to make and things I have to cut loose from and it's scary as fuck. And it's kind of been helping me toughen up. Maybe facing up to your fears and becoming successful, happy and invincible now correlates with being evil. Basically, I'm cool with that.
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..
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But then, my sister doesn't listen to her either and we're both belting out this song, and my mother was caught copying Rih's dancing and middle fingering in the 'Run This Town' video, to the absolute Satan-fearing horror of my theory obsessed brother - maybe it is subliminal messaging. Oh well. To conclude, Mariel Haenn is doing a good job and I shamelessly like this song. Again, sorry for posting this.

BUILD ME A WOMAN, MAKE HER TEN FEET TALL

Got new boots. Should I feed them the purple laces?

OVER FRIENDLY GUESTS YOU'VE BROUGHT TO BED

SOOO HAPPY to have found my camera's battery charger cable. I died on 74 trillion occasions not having my camera these last couple weeks, I swear. Also discovered most parts of Abu Dhabi in my search to find a new cable. They ended up telling me to call some random number in Sharjah (a whole other emirate/state) and they MIGHT have it and could POSSIBLY deliver it to me. It's amazing how all the workers here are so confident they know what they're talking about. They sent me to all these amazing places searching in vain. At the end of the day, while unpacking my summer suitcases the other night, I found the cable tangled up in the cord for my GHD hair straightener - I thought it was part of it. Yeah...I did that...

So anyways, some photos I found on my camera that I've been reminiscing over (no, no sobby ex-boyfriend memories, in case you were worried). London/Beijing/Trinidad/Dubai/Abu Dhabi.