THE PROPHET SAID

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THE AWFUL TRUTH

I was a little disappointed about missing the Rancid show this past Friday (what's more is I think 'X' played that same day too), not only for the sake of bopping to Ruby Soho, but also for scoping out Tim Armstrong's latest garb, because clearly...

...his style is what you're gonna want.
Anyways, at least pretty decent acts are still to come (and I bet this list even needs updating). Slipknot for sure though.

THE CULT OF THE AMATEUR

This is me trying to be somebody and go somewhere, figuratively speaking. Maybe it's all the Sex and the City reruns and Fetish Feature research for my Writing for the Internet class, but I have become increasingly obsessed with power and making money with my writing. Yeah, I think I want money now, thanks. I guess it's taken me this week of voluntary lockdown to realise what it takes to be a successful writer. And I guess it's the ever looming graduation date. Anyways, it's there, like the carrot in front of the donkey. And now I have some interesting writing plans/projects lined up to appease it. Does anyone else think 2009 is gonna be your year? I'm pretty stoked. A lot of non-Obama related changes are gonna go down. I'm planning to move to the states, finish a novel, write some more shorts, work for a magazine, and I have my own personal project I wanna try out as well and I already have my first subject in mind. I hate being so vague with you, but really and truly, all this post is is a stream of consciousness, so it's pretty much gonna comprise of shit. What's also troubling me is that when I went to piss just now I found myself dreaming of Mexico again. I had originally wanted to move to Mexico for 6 months immediately out of graduation and see what kind of writing that would spawn, but this was back when I thought Panda and I were bringing our best friendship/awkward love trysts to a close. But it seems we're still okay. He came here, he took these pictures, he gave me a good laugh and it seems setting up shop with him in L.A. just might really be materializing. And I am going home this christmas to discuss just that with the parental unit. This is going to be one of those unforgettable holidays. I can smell it. And you know what else I can smell? Perfectly toasted slices of bread. My new thing has become butter on toast, being served it for breakfast at an amazing friend's house a while ago after a wild hangover from the night before. Butter on toast definitely sets you straight, better than any W. Burroughs heroine shots ever could. Forgive me, I've been reading 'Junky' just before bed every night to wind down from a day reading and quoting a vicarious stack of essentially dull required reading like 'BECOMING A WRITER' BY DOROTHEA BRANDE!!! OH MY GOD, WOMAN. DIED MUCH? TRY IT! DIE! YOU GAVE ME NOT ONE USEFUL QUOTE FOR MY ESSAYS THROUGHOUT YOUR 175 PAGES! Now, as you can tell, that shit really gets to me. But fuck it. I was watching an episode of SATC after every chapter. It wasn't all a dull afternoon. I pretty much fucking love Sundays. It's the epitome of ME. Do you have a favourite day? I had a really good conversation with my mother this weekend. I miss her a lot and I'm glad I quit my bar job because that means I can go home for christmas and squeeze the good shit out of her..and then tell her I won't be coming home anymore as of next year..*meff*. And I can get presents this year, which I missed out on a couple times. AAANNNDDD My birthday is in January just before we're meant to head back. This will be the first time I can celebrate it with my fam since I started studying in London, and so the first time I'll get proper gifts. I spent it with Panda last year and that was really awesome though, even though I cried my eyes out because I thought 19 was morbidly old. Well guess what, I'm not afraid of 20. 20 can bring it. 20 can suck Ben Stiller's Unit. I'm pretty excited. Because 2009 is going to be killer, for lack of a MUCH BETTER word. I am going to love 2009, and I will ALWAYS hate that book by Dorothea Brande. Always.

"if you have a skeleton in your closet, take it out and dance with it."

-Carolyn Mackenzie

WE BLAST YOUR MINDLESS STRUCTURE IN THIS 'B' FILM BORN INVASION

SO...Obesity and Speed. They're fast becoming a household name (at least in those households that house poor little rich occupants with a fierce sense of mad style). I figured it was time I jumped on that bandwagon. Honestly, whether I dug any of their shit or not I would still name-drop them every chance I got. Obesity and Speed. Names like that don't just materialise everyday. Obesity and Speed.

Here are my fave particulars in no particular order cuz I'm not particularly bothered, as long as it's there for you to see. Obesity and Speed.

OH, BURY ME NOT

I think this is the first time I am actually aware of what a sensory overload is. I've literally locked myself away in my paper-strewn dorm with nothing but required reading, toast and vodka for this entire week. I am not allowed to come out until Sunday. I've reviewed a myriad of ideas from freight-train jumping journalists disguised as hobos to complete story breakdowns of Jack and the Beanstalk to how the internet is killing our culture and assaulting our economy to fetishism (more on this some other time), and it has basically come down to the point where all the words on the pages are nothing to me but columns of ants. I'm officially fried. I smell like Satan's asshole and my fingers are trembling like a gramps. There's no coke in the machine at reception, so not even my smallest of desires can be fulfilled. But the worst has to be that it seems my novel is threatening to shrivel into itself like a penis post cumming; and after all of yesterday's literary enlightenment too! NOTHING. FUCKING. LASTS.

So as much as my coursework is nagging me and plastering itself to the walls of my mind like a Kills poster (GO AWAY!), ME time must ensue as of this ungodly hour. Shower. Fridge raid. Spread myself out like butter on a bed of toast and watch a silly Almodovar movie, that being Pepi, Luci, Bom (isn't that the sickest cover art?). DO. NOT. DISTURB.

WEDNESDAY WAS A GIRL

Last night.
Program:
Book:

Supplement:

Film:

Accomplishment: almost nothing. Just, yuh know, 3, 270 words on my chapter! WOOP! WOOP!

OUTSIDE, ALL AROUND ME, REALLY SLEAZY, THEN IT HITS ME

[scans from a random Foto Decadent set]

Just the some outfits that COMPLETELY epitomize my desired style for Fall, you get me?

WHERE THE SONS OF FREEDOM MAKE THEIR HOME

I did a post a while back where I impressively managed to break copyright rules by not acknowledging that that awesome octopus woman image was the stellar product of the talented Mr. Dan Hillier. In my mind I see him as something short of an artist celebrity completely out of my reach, who is fast becoming one of my favourites in the art world. But I dragged Panda along to the Sunday Up Market at Brick Lane this past Sunday, and there he was, selling his goods, and GOODs they are (wow, that sucked)! My wallet's contents were already dwindling by the time I approached his solely black and white stall but I certainly let my eyes lap it all up like milk for a starved kitten. And now I know what I want for christmas.

I definitely plan to go back for the skull tote, and wish I could be something similar to that beak-eyed lady creature above for Halloween...or...life..whatev. Anyways, my wishlist is certainly not limited to these prints. I would have any and everything of his if I could afford it; maybe even his hand in marriage. Maybe. So, I beg of you (or probably don't even have to), acknowledge this shit.

DEVELOPMENTS

Panda left yesterday via terminal 1. I shopped at Boots in the airport and left without tears this time. Slept well to South Kensington, then even weller to Roehampton on the 430 bus. Ran through the rain and went to bed after a week and a half of Panda/Kara carnage and no sleep. Woke up around 5pm to face Reading Week and my bullet-pointed collegiate schedule for it. So, I think that clears up why I have/and will be posting in a sporadic manner. And for this, I am sorry. But you can't always get what you want. Because if you could, then Panda would still be here keeping me warm through November.

I can't believe less than two weeks has reaped so much to show and tell!

But I can't possibly get into all of it now. As 'Reading Week' suggests, I've gone and turned myself into a Page Master and just lugged home 6 different Journalism and Novel Writing particulars from the LRC to attack cyclone style by Sunday. I'm somehow still managing to squeeze in a little personal reading, and decided to pick up this:

this, which merely attracted me because of the skull on its spine. Otherwise, no matter how many people have told me I look like a Poe reader, AKA morbid and disturbed, I have never felt inclined to pick up the guy's work:

and after Jen's brilliant post on Bukowski a while back, I inhaled this last week, even going so far as reading aloud bits to Panda:

I'm also being forced to read 'Never Let Me Go' by Kazuo Ishiguro by next week, which is an extremely lagging and slow novel to start with, but if there's a girl on YouTube acting up this much about it and it's on the 1001 books you must read before you die, then I figure I might as well continue:

And speaking of 1001 books you must read before you die, I think I might just take up that challenge, seeing as my favourite author Hanif Kureishi's work is on there more than once, and since the classes I'm taking this year, as well as my bookworm qualities, gave me a good head start.

So many pictures, so many weirdities, so many new cool buys to show you, but simply not enough time. Hope this holds you up a bit longer. GO READ!

PUNKS NOT DEAD

SO,
I promise I haven't dumped you. It's just someone decided to fly up from L.A. and surprise me. So a week and a half of London Carnage is currently progressing behind the Dirty Word scenes. He's sleeping now so I took a minute to write you a reassurance.

Also to tell you to check out Rumi's amazingly DIY'd bootsand this EPIC Erin Wasson picture post she put up as well from October's i-D, of course. She's truly amazing; both of them.

Hope you had a killer Halloween night. We couldn't even get into our lame over-packed/over-slutty-witched college party. Gay. More soon. Over and out.

WE'VE GOT THE FEVER TO TELL

Mindin' my own business, eating pasta salad and listening to this,

then next thing you know, it's fuckin' snowing in October.

I mean why?

YOU'RE STANDING ON MY NECK PT. 2

So Jane Lane it is. It's cheaper, since I pretty much already dress like that. I'm heading over to my aunt's place in Wimbledon in 15 minutes to go pick up my boots and the fake earrings that'll go all the way up my ear (most of my shit is STILL stacked up in boxes in her back room. Anyone have a car?). Then all I need is a black bob wig which I'll cut straight and some maroon-ish lipstick. I ain't Asian, so sue me.

But the funniest thing happened today. I went out to buy groceries and an engagement card for two lovely friends and guess what I find hanging in the WINDOW of Oxfam? I swear. I think Daria was a real person, then she died and her mom decided it was too painful to keep her stuff so she dropped off all her clothes at Oxfam on Putney High Street. I found her green jacket. It was 5 pounds (should I repeat that?). Anyway, I instantly saw it as a sign so I bought it, but then after I did my shopping, I returned it because I realised I would have to buy a black pleated skirt, a wig, AND glasses, whilst for Jane, I pretty much just had to show up. Plus, I would never wear that green jacket again. ever.

So, what else..? Turns out Young's paid me after all, no fuss included after I quit abruptly. good good. And...I'll soon be writing for this new online magazine! Not paid, but whatever. It's based in the Bay so maybe I can work for them after I graduate and move to the US? Maybe? Who knows. I just think this is good.

One of the college bars is having a Halloween thing tonight and my friend who's DJing from 8-10 is pleading for someone to keep him company so I might go along with my Burmese friend, if only she would text me back. If she doesn't, last resort would be 11. I really just feel like doing something tonight. DO SOMETHING TONIGHT! ALL OF YOU! BE FUCKING SPONTANEOUS! I LOVE TONIGHT!

That wasn't me. That was Starbucks.

YOU'RE STANDING ON MY NECK

Friday....needless to say.

P.S. la la LA la la...

YOU'VE BEEN CAST ALL BY YOURSELF

Lovely friend T-Mac in America : i am watching Skins and totally thinking that is how you live!

CAN'T SEEM TO GIVE IT UP

I'm really worried about my signature pair of black Converse. They're dying. They were my very first pair and have been around the world and back with me; they've braved everything from high school to mosh pits, so naturally, this is happening:

I decided to cheer them (and myself) up by giving it a sort of bright orange facelift. And today, I took them on their first 'new and improved' spin on Putney High Street paired with my black skinny jeans, flannel shirt and navy blue blazer (very sexy androgynous). And what do you know? First step off the bus and chicks on their cellphones are telling their friends on the line to hold just to say how much they fucking dig my laces! "River Island hun," I'd say with the most ridiculous grin. I bought a few flashy pairs. A pair of two different colours was something like £2? They're a lot sturdier than the ratty pink ribbons I had in them before, and seemingly a lot more open to outsider compliments. Good good.

I also impulsively bought this jacket from them that was on sale. Looking at it, I probably totally would not have picked it up, but I threw it on quickly, scrunched up the sleeves and it's the best damn thing! And warm too, so won't go to waste this Fall.

Anyway, on to the main event. Taking my sneakers for an outing today was actually me heading over to Starbucks to do a couple hours of undisturbed coursework, since I spent the entire weekend partying and sleeping. So I set up shop in a cozy corner with my laptop and books, but my Iced Chai Tea Latte (get on it!) was making a mess so I had to quickly run back to the little extras table and grab a couple napkins. 15 seconds tops. When I got back to my table, my laptop was gone.
I
SHIT
YOU
NOT!

This Indian guy next to me slowly calculated what happened after taking in my petrified/mortified/oh-fuck-ified features. We stared at each other wordlessly.

"Who took it?" I said, with a mission gearing up in my eyes.
He jumped up all Superhero fuelled, went out the back with me. We looked up and down the street. No one in sight. He held me back with his arm, "You stay here. I'll get him. I saw what he looks like."

Well cool.

I watched his things and watched him walk to the end of the street. Then, at the corner, he put his finger up at me, telling me to wait, then he sped off running. I can't tell you how freaky that moment was for me, watching him run after this guy I couldn't see, who was coolly trudging up the High Street with his new mini Sony Vaio, skull sticker included. I surprised myself by not being selfish and thinking about what I would do without that laptop, but rather, worrying about the guy getting into some confrontation with the thief. But sure enough, he came back unscathed, with my laptop!

After blurting out way too many 'Thank You's, 'Sorry's, 'I'm a careless stupid twat's, I asked him what happened. He said he'd seen the guy around there before. He's sort of Putney Starbuck's regular bum, and he comes in sometimes to beg customers for money. Guess he just saw an opportunity. Well, good for him. WANKER!!!

But seriously, if I ever see that BEAUTIFUL GUY again, I will buy him copious amounts of Starbucks and give him a blowjob. bad joke. But I swear. I could've given him anything just then. WHOEVER YOU ARE! MILLEFOIS MERCI AND I LOVE YOU! Chivalry is almost dead; ALMOST!

...stay tuned for more adventures with Kara and her bright orange laces.

NIGHT SHIFT

I guess I'm still upset over not getting that Zara coat before I left Abu Dhabi. It so starkly resembled this Westwood one. Perfect, non? Love this set. Totally all over the 'splash of colour' idea.

...and this is just me missing wearing light clothing, drinking green tea frappes and hanging out in L.A.

I'm listening to Siouxsie and the Banshees radio - Bauhaus, The Cure, Alien Sex Fiend, The Creatures et al. Talking to Panda on Skype. He's looking for an apartment for us. I'm supposed to wake up in 40 minutes to go run errands before class. I'm also going to see if I'm going to get paid from the job I just abruptly quit. It would be nice, but I doubt.

ONLY AT NIGHT TIME I SEE YOU, IN DARKNESS I FEEL YOU

I can't for the life of me figure out where I was when this was going on RIGHT UNDER MY NOSE IN MARCH! I know for a fact I was finished with all coursework by April 29th. How. is. it. possible. that. I. was. not. the. one. making. this. video? Won't happen again, of course. Siouxsie is a must-see. Anyways, this is 'Night Shift', one of my faves (although the track I have sounds completely different), and, appropriately, I can't sleep to save my life. It is something past 8am. All manner of things going on today; snowboarding, live bands, Gap, money, feathers, cowboys and indians. I kid you not. HEY! Let's see who can have the better weekend! Ok, go!

LOVE AND SOME VERSES

Having a relatively chill Wednesday evening making failed Mixwit tapes, job hunting and trying (and failing) to get this

and this

out of my head, all while under the covers. Loves it. Hope you guys are having a good week!