Kenneth Anger's Missoni Video

I claim no knowledge about the current fashion world and it will most likely stay that way, but I just discovered that Kenneth Anger shot a video for Missoni's* fall/winter collection and had to check it out. Now I'm going to go and reread the Lupe Velez chapter in Hollywood Babylon.

*To prove my ignorance, I misspelled Missoni about 6 times in a row so that it became a hybrid of 'maraschino' and 'massimo'

That road's been trodden down

I made these nonsync videos when I was 15. Today was the first time I had watched them since that year. That was a period of major creative influx/me writing fan mail to Hettie Jones. I'm still in the thick of it really; a hyper-referential, soul-searching baby. AND I just googled the "best first motorcycles for women."

Zen Glister: Part 1.

Zen Glister: Part 2

Trance of Fame

this is your brain

Shine on, Wasteland

The desert was illuminated by alien lights foreign to the dust and dirt. The whole landscape was transported into a Roswell model, neon pacifiers taking the place of glowworms, bobbing in and out of focus, clenched between lips framed by perspiring skin.

A spotlight on the ground taunted a lost moth. It danced the dance of the seven veils above, its delicate turns and sways relentless for the blazing audience. Over time it began to drop lower and lower: grey fur swallowed up by the overpowering beam.

A girl was hunched nearby over the ground, heaving a shiny liquid. Glitter filament dotted her arms, her legs, the glimpse of skin showing underneath her slowly creeping miniskirt. The gold arcing out of her mouth covered the ground, noiselessly, cascading as softly as the amber locks that evaded her boyfriend's attention. He stood behind her, popping gum, looking over her collapsed body for a future girl to bend to his will. But his current lady was now on the move. Having finished expelling a days worth of designated hedonism, she straightened herself, all the while turning her head from side to side to lock eyes with anyone who might have been captivated by her stirring performance. She transmitted a message with glazed over eyes: My aim is better when I'm alone.

What do I have in common with Carol Channing and Betty Ford? Tread softly...

Next year I'm diving head-first into a Grandma Moses painting. You'll probably be able to witness some of the damage; see the straggly-haired young woman in front of the red barn? Yeah, the one milking the cow with a look of pensive entropy taking over her face...let's hope her grip stays soft.

I'm all set for rural living. Slather me in maple syrup and roll me in a carpet, and then set the scene on fire while bagpipes play it off as a hoot- Screw toga parties. Those are for mouth-breathers and future business moguls alike. My place is with the patched-pants kids, ragamuffin heartthrobs, crafty little fuckers with will-o-the-wisp sideburns.

Bennington 2014. My only hope is for everyone to be okay if I walk around wearing leather suits and fur underwear, otherwise I may freeze and shatter into a million little Los Angeles-spoiled pieces.

Found these snaps of Bennington circa leather chokers and carefully placed rouge. I can dig it. I've already mastered the "gothic fear" look, as a boy with a bow & arrow in his car once told me.

My friends are nomadic wonders with acute knowledge of religious texts.

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and and and and andRIGHT!?……………………