Wednesday, September 28, 2005

don't wanna be kate

warning: i've been trying to not think about saving the world everyday. what follows may be a bit of a departure, but is nonetheless, for better or worse, an expression of me.

ok, i'll admit, i have a fascination with kate moss. waif. supermodel. mom. the originator of heroin chic. during my latest move i recycled an entire folder i'd filled with pictures of kate ripped from magazines--to serve what purpose, i'm not sure. something about her keeps me transfixed.

backtrack. this summer several friends and i got into an argument about kate's newest beau, pete doherty, uk rock and roll bad boy. sid and nancy all over again, only nancy wears chanel. so our argument concerned the appeal of this drugged out babyshambles icon--did we think he was sexy or not, and if so, why can't we find partners with that edgy sex appeal who in reality, well, aren't quite that edgy?

anyway, kate's been caught. glamorous as always, but this time with a fiver up her nose doing lines. not that this comes as any surprise, but she's been dropped by three major campaigns after the photos broke. a well-written article can be found here. it mentions the ironies of the fashion industry--how we expect models to be glamorous, and drugs are glamorous, and we expect models to be thin, and drugs make you thin, but in an industry all about image, models must apparently tread the line (get it), projecting glamour but not THAT much glamor. at least, not when there's a camera phone nearby.

i don't know how i feel about this--obviously there are many problems with the body types we idealize and expectations placed on women who choose fashion as a profession--but at the same time, i guess i wish people would give kate a break. i remember reading an article after she checked into rehab the first time, about how basically she was depressed. glamour breeds depression? that's nothing new. i can't imagine how isolated i would feel, travelling between runway shows and ad campaigns in an industry based on surface appearance. for once i am not being sarcastic. what do you talk about at cocktail parties? certainly not politics and religion.

maybe my compassion is a bit misplaced, but i'll stand by it. check back when i'm in a better mood for a rant against the wealth of aesthetics and how our art and fashion scenes epitomize the class war. (or, check out adbusters' art fart issue). for now, i'm just sad i won't be seeing kate as often when i open my next issue of....wouldn't you like to know.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

21 grams

someone told me this is her sunday night ritual with chocolate milk.

rita is hovering just over my house. but, i don't live there anymore. i live here.

Friday, September 16, 2005

i'm covered in bees!!!

i took a little excursion the past few days back through my old college town (which, need i repeat, is NOT in austin). a couple of friends and i went to dinner at one of our old haunts, and (dunh dunh DUH) ran into an anti-hey-that's-my-biker. okay, reality bites reference, please keep reading.

the scenario: a woman who was a few years younger than me, but has also since graduated, waited on our table. she automatically recognized my mangy hipster accomplices as former students, but as usual i hung aloof in anonymity until half way through the meal she called me out. "hey, weren't you in max's class....european women's history?" to which i lowered fork and commented that yes, indeed i was, with a throw away remark about the infinite coolness of max, our prof.

now, before i continue the story, keep in mind that my tablemates and i, being the kind souls that we are, had already discussed the tragic fate of this particular waitress (who had, for one, obviously not made her way out of town). in my infinite compassion, i added my isolated recollection of her as The Student Who Incited a Collective Groan Every Time She Raised Her Hand to Speak. i'm not sure if the class groaned on behalf of her ignorance or out of our own misery, listening to her put her foot in her mouth, day after day. with this in mind, we shall resume the story.

i stared back down at my plate, conversation over, but of course she continued: "yeah, that was the class that turned me into a feminist for awhile."

i stifled a choking sound and tried desperately not to regurgitate my asparagus as she continued. "i mean, i was a feminist for years after that, but then i realized, i don't want to have to fix my own flat tires or whatever."

she continued refilling our beverages, or whatever, and i waited to catch the eyes of my tablemates until she was out of earshot. or, almost out of earshot.

now, i could turn this into a teaching moment, but what kind of feminist would i be if i didn't let you draw your own conclusions? plus, my oil needs changing.

the end.

astute visitors may have noticed that i deleted the last few comments after my posts. i'm having a little SPAM problem...hopefully soon resolved...but rest assured, random friends of me, that i will not delete what you say. unless you try to sell me something that's not already on erin's site (AHEM plug AHEM). and other erin, yes bury me standing is great i advocate finishing it, and, you rock my socks.

and now, back to the half-blood prince. goodnight.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

vegan leather: enough vitamin b?

i went to volunteer orientation for hurricane evacuees this morning at a nearby camp, but they had so many people show up, i'm not sure i'll even be called to return. it's great that there is such an outpouring of support (so far the baptists have racked up the greatest number in east texas, but then, what else is new)...i just hope volunteer enthusiasm doesn't wane as the weeks roll by. there were also enough donated feminine hygiene products to absorb half the flood waters of n'arlens, as we say...

the onion's hurricane coverage is great. in one headline, bush tells hurricane survivors to gnaw on their own bootstraps when hungry. "Only when you work hard and chew desperately on your own footwear can you live the American dream."

Monday, September 05, 2005

the moon is always female

try this: