picture of uprising "it" model from FLARE magazine wearing a 5200dollar Chanel wool dress.
random cuttings for today:
came across them while i was looking through old magazines
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Friday, February 24, 2006
welcome to the age of wonder woman:
the woman who is everything your fantasies encompass and more.
shes strong, she's superman's beautiful counterpart. she is an amazon goddess with a 22 inch waist,long muscled martial artistse legs - thanks to her wonderful personaltrainer and her hectic schedule of saving the world, glossy raven hair that cascade around her bronzed shoulders, courtesy of loreal hair studios and olay illuminating lotion respectively. she never leaves the house without her truth rope - a priceless family hierlom, custom cavali-made red knee-high patent leather stileto kick-ass boots, and limited edition earrings and reflective platnuim cuffs from tiffany that protect her from sparkling bolts of evil.
when superman goes out to work at the justice league tower in his immaculate amarni pleatless suit and dunhill briefcase, wonderwoman quickly cleans the house with superspeed, takes dinner out to taw and scribbles down a new delicious recipe, reads an intellecutal journal and the papers, spend quality time with superbaby(s),take a calming lavender scented bath, puts on her makeup, picks out a gorgeously flattering yet fashionable outfit that is both professional and subtly sexy, examines her perfectly manicured nails, kisses superbaby goodbye and gets to work perfectly on time.
at the tower, she asserts herself tactfully, climbs up to origianl committee, establishes fufilling bonds with her fellow superheros, make a few best friends she occasionally has tea and crossiants with and with whom she would confide in, gossip, have philosophical discussions, charm everyone with her playful sense of humor, save the world without a hair out of place. all in a days work.
back at home, wonderwoman puts dinner on the titanum stove, refreshes herself, plays with superbaby, changes into a comfy agent provocateur satin camisole set and does the laundry, spends relaxing evening flirting with superman over dinner and tiramisu for dessert, lovingly puts superbaby to bed and then have intense emotionally and physically satisfying sex with superman on their 4000 thread count sheets, after which she would write down poetry inspired by Lord Byron and endearingly draws a sketch of her sleeping lover before getting her 8 hours of enriching deep sleep.
Wonderwoman: the eptitome of female perfection in our society today. the modern woman who keeps a perfect household filled with gorgeous things, is a wonderful mother, makes delcious meals, looks immaculate, is an intellectual who is at the same time funny, charming, artsy, atheletic and beautiful. a woman who has found her perfect lover, her perfect best friends, and has mastered her workplace and world. nothing fazes her. nothing holds her back. she gives all of herself. nothing smudges her eyeliner. she is constantly happy, passionate, balanced. all with only 24 hours in each day. a woman who can do everythng. and has everything.
most of us modern woman-mortals have tried and failed. what now?
the woman who is everything your fantasies encompass and more.
shes strong, she's superman's beautiful counterpart. she is an amazon goddess with a 22 inch waist,long muscled martial artistse legs - thanks to her wonderful personaltrainer and her hectic schedule of saving the world, glossy raven hair that cascade around her bronzed shoulders, courtesy of loreal hair studios and olay illuminating lotion respectively. she never leaves the house without her truth rope - a priceless family hierlom, custom cavali-made red knee-high patent leather stileto kick-ass boots, and limited edition earrings and reflective platnuim cuffs from tiffany that protect her from sparkling bolts of evil.
when superman goes out to work at the justice league tower in his immaculate amarni pleatless suit and dunhill briefcase, wonderwoman quickly cleans the house with superspeed, takes dinner out to taw and scribbles down a new delicious recipe, reads an intellecutal journal and the papers, spend quality time with superbaby(s),take a calming lavender scented bath, puts on her makeup, picks out a gorgeously flattering yet fashionable outfit that is both professional and subtly sexy, examines her perfectly manicured nails, kisses superbaby goodbye and gets to work perfectly on time.
at the tower, she asserts herself tactfully, climbs up to origianl committee, establishes fufilling bonds with her fellow superheros, make a few best friends she occasionally has tea and crossiants with and with whom she would confide in, gossip, have philosophical discussions, charm everyone with her playful sense of humor, save the world without a hair out of place. all in a days work.
back at home, wonderwoman puts dinner on the titanum stove, refreshes herself, plays with superbaby, changes into a comfy agent provocateur satin camisole set and does the laundry, spends relaxing evening flirting with superman over dinner and tiramisu for dessert, lovingly puts superbaby to bed and then have intense emotionally and physically satisfying sex with superman on their 4000 thread count sheets, after which she would write down poetry inspired by Lord Byron and endearingly draws a sketch of her sleeping lover before getting her 8 hours of enriching deep sleep.
Wonderwoman: the eptitome of female perfection in our society today. the modern woman who keeps a perfect household filled with gorgeous things, is a wonderful mother, makes delcious meals, looks immaculate, is an intellectual who is at the same time funny, charming, artsy, atheletic and beautiful. a woman who has found her perfect lover, her perfect best friends, and has mastered her workplace and world. nothing fazes her. nothing holds her back. she gives all of herself. nothing smudges her eyeliner. she is constantly happy, passionate, balanced. all with only 24 hours in each day. a woman who can do everythng. and has everything.
most of us modern woman-mortals have tried and failed. what now?
Friday, February 17, 2006
And so it is.
i am still the same.
everyday, every week, every month,every year, i tell myself things will be different. i will change. i will make things different. i was so determined, on every new day, to finally shape my own world and make it rotate on the axis i choose. don't we all?
yet it would spin precariously out of our hands each time we thought we had a good hold on it. hoping it would be our under control, our manipulation, our very own measured pleasure... until we reach a certain point, also known as reality - breaking through a crakced surface to an ephiphany that our lives are not wholly independent of one another, we cannot always choose. not even what happens within ourselves.
what is this ephiphany? defeat or growing up?
i am still the same.
everyday, every week, every month,every year, i tell myself things will be different. i will change. i will make things different. i was so determined, on every new day, to finally shape my own world and make it rotate on the axis i choose. don't we all?
yet it would spin precariously out of our hands each time we thought we had a good hold on it. hoping it would be our under control, our manipulation, our very own measured pleasure... until we reach a certain point, also known as reality - breaking through a crakced surface to an ephiphany that our lives are not wholly independent of one another, we cannot always choose. not even what happens within ourselves.
what is this ephiphany? defeat or growing up?
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
I am
repeatedly
folded into the empty, available hollows of your life.
and I let it be.
I still yearn,
to melt precariously into the bodies' crevices.
A heart dissolved in
tears.
blood.
words.
sex.
This liquid debris is
mellifluous, changing, shapeless.
charmingly silent –
Malleable,
the only way it can be.
The way I let it be.
-purl.
repeatedly
folded into the empty, available hollows of your life.
and I let it be.
I still yearn,
to melt precariously into the bodies' crevices.
A heart dissolved in
tears.
blood.
words.
sex.
This liquid debris is
mellifluous, changing, shapeless.
charmingly silent –
Malleable,
the only way it can be.
The way I let it be.
-purl.
Friday, February 10, 2006
the MOST beautiful love scene i have ever, ever read. the reconcilation of grief.
"There was very little that anyone could say to clarify what happened next. Nothing that would separate Sex from Love. Or Needs from Feelings.
Except perhaps no Watcher watched through Rahel's eyes. No one stared out of a window at the sea. Or a boat in the river. Or a passerby in the midst in a hat.
Except perhaps that it was a little cold. A little wet. But very quiet. The Air.
But what was there to say?
Only that there were tears. Only that Quietness and Emptiness fitted together like stacked spoons. Only that there was a snuffling in the hollows at the base of a lovely throat only that a hard honey colored shoulder had a semicircle of teeth marks on it. Only that they held each other close, long after it was over. Only that what they shared that night was not happiness, but hideous grief.
Only that one again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much." - Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things
the whole book is gorgeous and so moving.
"There was very little that anyone could say to clarify what happened next. Nothing that would separate Sex from Love. Or Needs from Feelings.
Except perhaps no Watcher watched through Rahel's eyes. No one stared out of a window at the sea. Or a boat in the river. Or a passerby in the midst in a hat.
Except perhaps that it was a little cold. A little wet. But very quiet. The Air.
But what was there to say?
Only that there were tears. Only that Quietness and Emptiness fitted together like stacked spoons. Only that there was a snuffling in the hollows at the base of a lovely throat only that a hard honey colored shoulder had a semicircle of teeth marks on it. Only that they held each other close, long after it was over. Only that what they shared that night was not happiness, but hideous grief.
Only that one again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much." - Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things
the whole book is gorgeous and so moving.
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