last night i went to sugaz and had a giggling geisha. or a pink geisha. ok i had two of whatever kind of geisha it was. i went to sugaz with a friend of mine…to a restaurant called sugaz and drank tickle me pink geisha or something.
how damn girly can you get?
i ate cake for dinner. it was an evening bought and sold for estrogen overload.
In other news, did Jonathan Franzen become the supreme overlord of the universe while i was sleeping under a rock or something?
OK ITS TIME FOR AN AWESOME QUOTE ABOUT FASHION. its that time again. for me to shallowly intellectualize sartorial schmataata consumerist spoiledness of myself by posting an intellectual quote about it. here we go:
“As with punk, there is a seductiveness about avantgardism, which has given it a prominence in our cultural matrix that goes beyond the contingencies of fashion: it is built into the very framework of fashion, its indispensable social raison d’être, representing a contemptuously elusive vision of the possible.”
“These factors of consciousness are: silhouette, volume, rhythm, poise, movement, tonality and colour; and their implications, such as direction, time, extension, space, etc. Subtract any of these factors from life and the intensity of consciousness decreases: the fullness of experience is curtailed. Deduct silhouette; and only the emotion of volumneal form remains on the material side of life. Deduct volume; and visual life becomes a flat surface without poise. Deduct rhythm; and there is at once a disintegration of parts— a chaotic world with neither order nor sequence. Deduct poise; and form becomes silhouette. Life is then only a rhythmic decoration, like a colored design on a secreen, lacking depth and substance. Deduct movement; and the visual world is dead and static, incapable of stimulating the empathic imagination: all mimicries cease, and, as a result, all processes of perception are at a standstill.”
The Bug Lady
remember somehow her eyes didn’t match,
one was yellow and looked slightly sideways, to the side,
the other wasnt blue exactly, and looked at you straight on.
she lived in a place called Monteverde, sort of cloud forest.
air there hung about leaves with light of easter egg blue but darker,
washing machine shadow color and humid evergreen tones.
tantrum of water rhythms muted by air that seemed
to devour the rain before it got down to her mud and fossils,
mostly tourists visited the Monte Verde to see birds, went on tours seeking out new birds
never seen before by their own eyes, and when they saw one, checked their bird books with a big check next to a photo of a funny looking bird encapsulated by a white gloss of space .
and unluckily sometimes,
if they’d only heard a little bird cry or bird movement, shuffling of wings, instead, crossed dissatisfied little Xs to match their cross little eyes crossing,
strain to see flight, or precise tangle of foliage where lurked their little bird.
and the trick is, says tourguide, man born in the wild, a man in the wild must adjust his eyes,
but not overnight.
quetzal bird had a legend, rare enough so its wildman divinity
remained in tact in photographs
and travel brochures. blurbs in glossy mags.
in the dark sick fairy light, dreams got strong,
sometimes enough to sit up and yawn, rearing their heads
with a hair shaking of sleep, and stretch.
a thousand wolves in bonnets
still digesting grandma
and thinking about breakfast,
these were woods alright.
these were woods evolved to fall down after 200 years or less
because they got so heavy, reaching for sunlight.
spectacular groaning down a sudden rukhus in the forest, dinasoar yelp of motion
in the otherwise sleepy forest.
a strange woman with unmatched eyes set into freckled white face
offered the bird tourists a different tour if they got bored with their birds
she said when you shine a flashlight into the direction of nowhere straight ahead of you,
all the little green and glistening flecks
were spider eyes, and animal eyes if you are lucky. snake eyes if you are lucky.
all females eat their mates as procaution, for survival, and to protect
their young. the mission of most wild females. except she also said
and most eat what hatches out of those eggs, because thats called darwinism, puppy,
where the trapdoor spider hides in the fallen trunks
and the eiffeltower spider’s glistening trap
when you shine a light