Blog Crush

I have fallen in love with a new style blog. I do Not use the word "love" if I do not mean it.

The Clothes Horse

I still miss Australia.

I have a confession: I miss Australia way more than I miss France. When I was younger, or truly, not that long ago, the thought of living in Paris sounded like Heaven. But right now, if I were to be completely honest with myself, I don't know if I could see myself Living there. At least not with my rusty high school French. Maybe I feel more tied to Australia because of how long I stayed there and the fact that it really felt like home after a short amount of time. Also, I never once got lost in Melbourne, and French food is AMAZING, but honestly, so is Australian food. No joke, man. Of course, they're different, but both have their merits, lemme tellya.

Photos taken at the site of the Olympic Games (1954 maybe??)

Capital, M'boy! Capital!

Whenever I think of the word "capital" in reference to finances, I think about Great Expectations by Charles Dickens and how whenever Pip or any of these gentlemen he comes across talk about money, they talk about "raising capital." Anyway, I intend to raise a little capital by getting rid of things I don't wear very often, or don't like any more, etc. I may begin selling on Etsy. If I become a True buyer and seller, I shall, but for the moment I'm selling something that isn't vintage, but is vintage-inspired. It's a Stop Staring swing dress. I don't think too many people stop by my blog, but just in case, here is a photo and the link to the dress on ebay.

A Very Brief Review: Rachel Getting Married

I heard Anne Hathaway was nominated for an Oscar for Rachel Getting Married. To be brutally honest, I thought she seemed like a nice gal, but at the time, I hadn't seen her in anything that had Really awed me, so I was very curious about this film. Well, it came in the mail, I watched it, and I cried. Not "this is a sad movie, my eyes are getting damp...oh look, there's a tear" tears. I'm talking about Real tears. Tears you don't think about because something is truly affecting you. This is not a really uplifting film, and yet it is. That was poorly worded, and I'll try to make amends (if you've seen the film already, you may recognize the pun I just made).

This film is almost tough to get through because (in my opinion) it is honest and real. It's about a family with real world, crazy-tragic problems. It's about a young woman who's lost in her own world of pain and regret and who has a terrible time trying to connect with her family. What I love about this movie, is that real families are just as screwed up. Real families have tragedies. Real families change, and break and rearrange. Sure, this is a cool family with ties to the music industry and the cool daughter is getting married with an AWESOME Indian-motif wedding...but underneath all the pretty, there is a real history to the relationships, to the loss, the agony. It is so well written and so well put together and (I know I sound so stupid when I say this, but here goes) I am really proud of Anne Hathaway. All the actors in this film were wonderful, but it makes me so happy to see a young actress like Anne (who has a past of thinner roles) who can turn around and... (how do I even say this?) move me. This movie probably has too many painful moments for me to want to see it again for another six years or more, but it was a Great Film. And I now have a new actor crush in the form of Mather Zickel.

Time Travel

Every time I clean my room, I end up getting distracted by old diaries. I started writing them when I was seven or eight years old and wrote a LOT, especially in high school. You go through so many changes in such a short amount of time, and it never fails to amuse me to look back. Here's another silly, romantic poem I wrote. This one's dated January 20, 2006, also about the time this photo was taken.

lips

he could never hear it from my lips

it is too much to say. Too much to give away

what an ocean of sheet rock pounding through the harbor- won't he harp at me again?

I might see him in the end

sinking down the black waters, chasing the slow-swimming fish

with their puckering lips

I'd love to kiss him with my own amidst the dead, the murderous blue

he would steal me through and through

like the hydrogen hydrogen oxide

and he'd breathe into my two eyes

singing spirituals he wrote for me and God, surrounded by the life with lips that eat

but do not speak

madness pervades me, I do not know the dock from the rock from the sea

nor the parrot from the owl from the germ

as he lets me feel unnerved

is that him-floating by

on the watershades, so low, so high?

no...it could never be

he could never swim so near my lips

that they could reach his fish-friend face

(I know and love each soaking trace)

-to kiss him with these soundless lips

Where am I Going, Why am I Here?

this was taken about the time I wrote the poem

Where have I been? I don't even know. I've been trying to clean my room, getting puffy-eyed from bad make-up (am about to do a major tossing out of eye shadow, very sad about this) and listening to new music, and considering becoming a real etsy seller to make a little dough.

Anyway, I usually NEVER put poems online because they're so intimate and personal. I don't even really advertise my blog to many friends. But I don't know if I care any more. But I found this one from a notebook, dated January 26, 2007 and I really sort of like it. It's very romantic and most of the poems I've written (that I like) are very morbid and dark.

Well, here it is. Hope the itty bitty handful of readers enjoys:

beautiful captivity

I guess trees must long for spring

and slaves dream of an unowned shore

I guess I love you like that

like a deep sleep

no. a coma, heavy and dark

a place with no escape

I am lost in longing,

impenetrable, starless, moonless crypt

of longing

of loving you, I guess

and you might say simple things

and discuss your laundry or your cat

but inside of the air,

all the air

between us

I am listening, silent, arrested,

waiting, hoping, dreaming

like a mystified little lamb,

missing from the flock

loving you.

*listening to Lover, You Should Have Come Over by Jeff Buckley

**how appropriate.

The Eyes of Irene Bordoni

So you may recall that I was reading Our Hearts Were Young and Gay. Sadly, I've had to take a pause. Why? Because in the year 2003, I bought the fifth Harry Potter book along with almost Everyone else. At about page 80, I got bored with Angst-Harry and set it aside, saying to myself, "I'll finish it later...and anyways, this way I'll get to enjoy Harry Potter longer than everyone else." I've always been a fan of suspense and looking forward to things.

Flash forward six years, and I haven't purchased the sixth or seventh book and the bookmark is still in the exact same place in the fifth book. Finally, I decided: the sixth film is coming out and I want to see it in theaters. I missed seeing the last one in the theater, because I wanted to read the book first. But I'm babbling.

The last time I read Our Hearts Were Young and Gay, the new pop culture item that kept rising up was Irene Bordoni. Apparently this is another star that young Cornelia Otis Skinner looked up to. Bordoni was a French singer and Broadway star during the 1910s and 20s, and later made some movies in Hollywood. According to Wikipedia (what can I say? it's handy) Claudette Colbert copied Irene Bordoni's style in some ways, too.