Hey Brooklyn/NYC

September 30, 2010

Dondero's bicycle got snatched so keep a look out! Call 410-404-1216 if you see it.

Via Jakey

And homies! REPOST!

Oliver found a sweet jacket for me

but it's too big.

Rad inspiration


Via Jak and Jill.

Cut-Rate and Shop Gentei for Cycle Headz Magazine

Via Oliver.

Hate crime?

September 29, 2010

Why do I even have to use that phrase? But that's what it is.

Jenae, a white fiber's major at MICA from rural Pennsylvania. Her car got towed and she and her Nigerian boyfriend, who is studying neuro-science at Hopkins, went to pick it up. The tow company only took cash so they roamed around a not-so-great area in Baltimore on North Avenue (notoriously bad for decades) to look for an ATM. A police officer pulls up to them and says, "We don't hang out here." The couple, confused, said "Okay," and continued walking. Not at a brisk pace, not sloppily, just trying to figure out their next move. Strolling, I guess. The cop turns back around and goes ALL out. Has his sirens on, comes out with his MagLite or baton, about to hit Osefame (o-say-FAH-may), Fame for short. Jenae grabs Fame and says to the cop, "He's my boyfriend."

Still furious for God-knows-why, he yells at Fame to get on the floor. Jenae, crying, is also told to get on the floor. Feet out, legs crossed, "hands where I can see 'em", cellphones away.. everything. He calls for back-up where three more cops show up. All the while, Jenae is confused, Fame is confused. Why are they in this situation?

The cop, who is white, tells Fame to sign some document. Fame, being an extremely intelligent individual asks "What is it?" The cop turns to his other cop friends, two more white officers and one black, and says, "Tell this kid what happens when people don't listen to me. I ARREST THEM," or something of the like. Fame reads it and it's a fine for loitering.

Jenae is then asked to come see the bad-cop at his car where he asks for her story, which she obligingly tells. He gives her a warning to which she replies, "How is that fair?" He goes bizerk. Jenae (or Fame) later asks the other cops what is considered "loitering" and how long an individual needs to be in a given space to be "loitering". The cops tell them that they weren't loitering.

Really? I couldn't help buy cry when Jenae told me this. It just happened a few days ago. I was furious, shocked, not surprised, and totally surprised. In 2010, how can such a blatant act of hate be committed? By a COP? Policemen are being let go left and right because of racism or wrongful accusation thanks to YouTube/cellphone cameras. No wonder he asked them to put their phones away. You're racist, you don't like homosexuals, you beat your wife, you like George Bush.. whatever. That's your prerogative. But you can keep that to yourself and say something ignorant to your friend or under your breath or whatever!

He HATED that Jenae was with Fame. Hated. HATED. Hated. And I'm sure he felt a little dumb when Fame pulled out his Hopkins ID and learned that he was a freakin' genius.

Just last week, my Thesis group read an essay by Adrian Piper about colored women artists (CWA's) in a "Euroethnic" art world, written in 1990. Girls in my class were naively "frustrated" or "confused" as to what Euroethnic meant, calling the text "dated" and "not relevant today". White girls of middle class families, I'm sure. Not understanding what Euroethnic means is like asking what white means. A girl argued that Euroethnic is "too broad" of a term and amazingly, Fabienne, my teacher, asked if African-American is a narrow term. The girl shut up.

I know I talk about race a lot, but it's because I am dumb-founded at how it exists today and how people think it doesn't exist. And it has NOTHING to do with being white or black or yellow or purple, it has to do with the fact that people don't think it still exists or still relevant. It sucks, but it's the truth. I've talked to guys about this and they're not ignorant to this subject. And it's the type of people that say, "They are why it stills exists," is why racism is still around.

Jenae's story made me SO upset. I have no words (well, obviously, I have a lot of words). It's just a few weeks of built up frustration on this subject in my life that I must vent.

I'm sure those girls reading the essay by Piper felt like they were being attacked or something. But it's one thing to read and understand and empathize (is that the right word for this?) with the text and another to just brush it off as, "I didn't like her," and, "It was frustrating," because you are who she is talking about.

To not know that you have a slight advantage if you're white is silly. To not know that you have a slight advantage if you're straight is silly. To not know that you have a slight advantage if you're even good-looking is silly. And if you're all of the above, well, don't be silly.

Cat Whisperer

The Dude and I were walking back from Turps last night and we noticed Mittens (the health food store cat) wandering around outside. Ok Natural was already closed and Mittens was not inside, so I assumed he got locked out. I called Jon, who was working a few hours before, and left him a message AND called the number on his tag. An hour of hanging out with Mittens outside.. and nothing. I knew that one of the guys that work at OK lived in the building so I left a note with my number, saying that I was going to take Mittens in and to call me anytime before 1am. Mittens kept going up to the door, staring inside, scratching at the door, and meowing. Poor thing.

So I let the damn cat into my apartment for fear that he'd wander too far or go into the street. He loves being outside and usually always comes back to the door, but it was windy and cold and dark and I felt uneasy about leaving him on the sidewalk. He spent half an hour exploring and creeping around everywhere. I made him a plush bed-type setup that he'd knead and purr on, which was pretty sexy. After a while, he got bored and cried to be let outside. By this time, it's 11pm and I'm getting ready to go to sleep. I wasn't going to let him cry all night because he was trapped in a strange place, so I let him out. He kept coming back to the door but didn't want to come in. I'd go back, he's still there. Sometimes he'd come in, sometimes he'd just pop his head in. I came to terms with the fact that he was going to be outside for the night.

The Dude bought him cat food thinking he might be hungry, and on his way back to my apartment he heard meowing. Assuming it was Mittens, he followed the noise. Lo and behold, it's another freakin' cat. A kitten!

We gave him one of the cans of food which it scarfed down. I was scared that it was going to blow up or something. Mittens was curious or being a jerk or something, but he kept inching closer and closer while the black kitten hissed and made another strange noise. There was nothing I can do for the little kitten because it wouldn't come near us so I let it be.

At the end of the night, Jon got back to me and let Mittens in. If I saw one more cat, I was going to go crazy. It was such a strange night.

Remember when this was all we listened to?

September 28, 2010

ACL 1988

Seriously, THE BEST. I can't even believe I've gone this long without listening to this. Probably because of the switch from portable CD player to iPod. This only reminds me of high school when we'd be amazed at Sean's ability to play this. I could listen to the intro over and over. It honestly makes me want to cry, for so many reasons.

We'll share the shelter

To die

No matter where I am in life, I can always count on the Dolce & Gabanna show to make me feel whole again. I think if people could describe themselves in one word (or designer), it'd be Dolce & Gabanna (and maybe Celine). My darling Beau would be Prada. Momma would be Marc Jacobs.

I love the gaudiness. I love the sophistication. I love the colors (or lack thereof). D&G was out of control, but I think a lot of young girls would like it. Florals, that picnic-y look that Urban Outfitters has every hip girl fit for. But ah, Dolce & Gabanna. You complete me.

My favorite looks.


And here's D&G in case anyone was confused as to what I was talking about.


Photos via Style


Instead of talking about Jean-Paul Sarte and existentialism (because it makes my brain hurt), I like to draw this extra cool guy.

Elevator banana

Farmer's market finds

September 26, 2010

Golden delicious apples, potatoes, Kosher dills, bell peppers, carrots, portobellos, cilantro, broccoli, sage, eggs (2 doz this week!), honey wheat bread, and these beautiful fuschia flowers.

I made some blueberry coffee cake (per Natalie's mom's recipe) before yoga.

It's a gloomy, rainy day here in Baltimore. I will continue knitting like an old lady.


September 25, 2010

The Lord knows that I love big shoes and all things leopard, but Jeffrey Campbell is going so loco with his "IT" boot it's driving me loco. And to make things worse, chickas are actually buying these crazy lookin' things. All it reminds me of are creepers. Yeah, the shoes punks/ska kids/greaser's dress their feet with, but boosted sky-high. When did goth on the feet become popular? But I guess that's where LA is going right now. Goth.


And I'm sure Paris is going to be even better. Marc Jacobs blew my mind but Paris is killin' it.



Raoul Middleman

September 24, 2010

This is my drawing teacher. He's a painter but I love his drawings. Yesterday he drew Bugs Bunny for us and even did a how-to for Dick Tracy. "You want me to show you how to draw Bugs Bunny? You go like this.. and the nose.. and do that for eyes.. the ears.. There you go." He tells us stories about living in The Bowery in his 20's and paying 25¢ for burlesque shows or peep shows. He notes, that he lovesss burlesque, back when it was an art form. He calls me a Hollywood Star. I don't know why, but he does. He's vulgar and loves eroticism. We sit for an hour in the library each class while he takes out books and tells us stories about what goes on inside the paintings. They blow his mind.

Raoul is old. The kind of old man that rambles on and on and goes, "HEH?" He's the type of old man I want to be with. I told someone that I'd love to be his partner/companion/mistress. Not in a sexual way (though I think it'd be a must to be with him), but I'd love to hear his stories all day every day. Like when he was at the Met and saw de Kooning in front of a Reginald Marsh, talking to a friend and swirling his hand around and around. Raoul said he tried to get closer so he could hear what he was saying, but by that time de Kooning walked away.

He used to live down on Baltimore Street in the, now, mini-strip club block or two when it was actually a much larger area. He said he'd have models pose for him and they'd sit still because they'd look out the window and see naked girls on the roof taking photos and playing with dogs.

To be young at that time is priceless. My youth is at the turn of the 21st century. To be young at a time when there weren't iPhones and text messaging and the fear of EVERYTHING. No matter how much I will live/am going to live.. I will never get to live like Raoul did. Not even close. This is when I feel too young.

Warhol polaroids

From Kiki