It's Draper time.

For me, it's not really Halloween until I hear the Monster Mash song. I'm hoping to catch that or Spooky on way home today. Kearth 101 won't let me down!
Happy Hween weekend kiddos! Prepare for all the airline stewardess you'll see!
Thank you Christina Ricci.

"Went on a trip, and never came back...."

B.B. King once said of Peter Green- "He has the sweetest tone I ever heard, he was the only one who gave me the cold sweats."

I was told to check out the original Fleetwood Mac. Pretty good, pretty neat. Real jammy. Sounds like Peter Green went the way of Sid Barrett. Starting up a wicked legit awesome band, found lsd, lost interest in life, and became a schizo. Rad! Shine on you crazy diamonds!!!

The wave speech

"Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era — the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time — and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights — or very early mornings — when I left the Fillmore half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean shorts and a Butte sheepherder‘s jacket . . . booming through the Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."

Excerpt from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - HST
Photo by HST

"Ginsy just knew what was happening.."

Tail turned to red sunset on a juniper crown a lone magpie cawks.

Mad at Oryoki in the shrine-room -- Thistles blossomed late afternoon.

Put on my shirt and took it off in the sun walking the path to lunch.

A dandelion seed floats above the marsh grass with the mosquitos.

At 4 A.M. the two middleaged men sleeping together holding hands.

In the half-light of dawn a few birds warble under the Pleiades.

Sky reddens behind fir trees, larks twitter, sparrows cheep cheep cheep
cheep cheep.

136 Syllables at Rocky Mountain Dharma Center - Allen Ginsberg

Not quite...

Mattel Mattel Mattel....Tisk tisk. Dos my eyes deceive? A white, hispanic and african Barbie. I understand that these are collectors items, but are they collectors items because of how racist they are? Kinda like swastika flags in antique malls and and pictures of white men with shoe polish on their face, shuckin and jivin, singing about mammy something or other? This is what the little girls of the 50's had to look at as an example of what she should be doing with her life or what her life should look like. The first Barbie is lounging in a fashionable bathing suite with matching sunglasses and a pulled back proper do. The second Barbie appears to be pregnant and dressed for the kitchen, empty pockets and hair down. The third Barbie is half naked with a snake slithering up her leg, in feathers and presumably a tribal woman.....with a mallard on her head. A mallard. There has always been issues with Barbie, is she realistic example for little girls, should Barbie have tattoos, why do the black Barbie's have straight hair? If we are doing stereo typical barbies here, then wouldn't you agree that the first barbie should have her hair up in curlers with a cigarette attached to her face and a broom in her dish gloved hand? Therapist and adultery blindfold not included.

Danko!

As Jason H. would say "Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup!"

Arrrrrr

I look like an angry pirate that had a long night. Probably not far from the truth.

Photo by my Dude. He's dreamy.

Gabbi's

Gabbi's Kitchen, you inspired me to make shrimp and spinach enchiladas. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. I think they might be better then yours. SIKE! My enchiladas curl up in a fetal position and sucks it's thumb in comparison to yours. In my opinion, Gabbi's is the best thing the Orange Circle has to offer. I am a padawon in culinary world and Gabbi is Yoda.....ehhh maybe Mase Windu. Still, pretty good!

Tribal!

Bud: "Oh thank god I thought we were gonna die and shrivel up like super models....I'm so faatttttt!"
Doyle: "No your nootttt!"
Bud: "Nooobody likes meeee..."
Doyle: "..your so cute.."
Bud: "..People didn't like me in hhhigh school"
Doyle: "No no, your beautiful!"
Bud: "Oh thank you, your so sweet Naooomi! Muah Muah!"

Bio Dome Gems
For my Valentina <3

Burdon Beats

Tobacco and Diet Coke. Feeding models for generations...

Japanarama Anna

ADR, other wise known as Anna Dello Russo is the Anna Wintour of the East. Far East. She is the editor of Vogue Japan. Only Japan would give this nut job, (I say that lovingly) the pristine position of "Editor at Large" for such a powerful and influential magazine as Vogue. Dello Russo has the perfect personality for Japan, she fits like a glove. A glitter spiked studded glove, but a glove. There is a wonderful feeling of uninhibited color and shape in their fashion choices. I guess we have Anna and the designers she dotes upon to thank for that. She maybe over the top, she may have a butter face and should keep glasses on at all times or may even have a website that looks like it is a myspace page and belongs to a old Russian prostitute, but you gotta appreciate a woman that still wears shoulder pads, and wears them well.

The Plastics

Scrimps

The Japanese have mastered the art of cute food, which appeals to the 7 year old in me. That sounds like I ate a 7 year old, but if any of you know me know that that is entirely imposable. I have a full time job. I love Japan and I loooove scrimps. Fin

Some Sartorialist Love

Slowly becoming my fav blogity blog. Love the concept, photos, fashion and locations. In a nut shell. Perfection.

http://www.thesartorialist.com

Segway

Mud

Mr. Pea, Sir. Pot and Mr. Clev were in a bloody war. In the end, nobody won. Why you ask? "IF INDEED you are fighting in a war," said Sir. Pot, "..and both shed blood, you are both to blame. One is not right and the other wrong. You both are wrong. You both have killed." Pot was quite disgusted. "You can NOT claim to be a peacekeepers when you have blood stained hands." Pot urged and begged with the Generals. "Learn from each other instead of seeing each other faults. Grow away from your hatred, and understand that he was born naked just as you were. We are made from the Same Minerals, and you are no better then your brother." Just as the last kind word fell off Mr. Pot's lips,the Generals went for their weapons and struck.

Clev's machete pierced right through Pot's throat and into the chest of Pea. Squish. The next strike was almost as clean the first. Reactionarily, the gun that was aimed at Sir Pot's kidney was fired. Bang! The bullet went in Pot's low back and out Pea's thigh, hitting his femoral artery. The men dropped to their knees. Their new found cold and wet dirt grave was saturated in blood. They had killed Sir Pot.

Dr. Drew would never say it like that.

"The hippocampus is a brain structure which lies under the medial temporal lobe, one on each side of the brain. It is sometimes grouped with other nearby structures including the dentate gyrus and called the "hippocampal formation." The hippocampus is critical for the formation of new autobiographical and fact memories. It may function as a memory "gateway" through which new memories must pass before entering permanent storage in the brain. Hippocampal damage can result in anterograde amnesia: loss of ability to form new memories, although older memories may be safe. Thus, someone who sustains an injury to the hippocampus may have good memory of his childhood and the years before the injury, but relatively little memory for anything that happened since."

by Catherine E. Myers. Copyright © 2006 Memory Loss and the Brain

Hurry UP

Laugh out loud

I LOVE trends that only 2% of the world can pull off. One being this girl, the other being Paul Pfeiffer from The Wonder Years. Good ol 8/10 theory. "Works 80% of the time, everytime."

Leonard Lullaby

The Hotel Chelsea

This artist friendly and historically rich piece of property was sold for a reported 80+ million. If there was baby book somewhere for the city of New York, The Hotel Chelsea would be under Babies First Steps.(picture here)This was the second home to the creative and the poor, the rich and the coddled. With so much life and energy pouring through that place I believe it's safe to say, there is no way in hell the spirits that haunt Chelsea will let the workers get anything done. Nancy Spungen will be squawking and bitching in the ears of electricians and Dylan Thomas will be preaching his "Do not go gentle into that good night.." shpeel to some poor bloke with a blow torch. I wish them luck and bid The Chelsea a hasty adieu, funny, I have never been there yet have such fond memories of it.

On the rocks..

Ahhhh my vodka days...

Gordon Gartrell

In honor of my "make it work" backwards blouse and my decision to put one foot in front of the other in regards to my future in fashion, here is my homage to Denise and Theo for being open minded and creative enough to create their very own Gorden Gartrell. "...it's tucked into my socks!"

Bossa Nova

I need to loose my Ahhs and Uhhs and find my Nãos and Tãos.
I will learn this song if it kills me.


Olha, que coisa mais linda, Mais cheia de
graça, É ela, menina, que vem e que
passa, Num doce balanço, a caminho do mar.
Moça do corpo dourado, Do sol de Ipanema, O
seu balançado É mais que um poema
É a coisa mais linda Que eu já vi
passar

Ah, por que estou tão sozinho? Ah, por que
tudo é tão triste? Ah, a beleza que
existe A beleza que não é só
minha, Que também passa sozinha.

Ah, se ela soubesse Que quando ela passa, O mundo
soirrindo Se enche de graça E fica mais
lindo Por causa do amor.

Good vibes at the Times

Bill Cunningham for Prez! The sweetest, wittiest, most humble funny man to walk the streets of NY. Paris was right to honor him and the NY Times should be thanking their lucky stars for his presents. He is the last of a dying breed. He is a true fashion hound in every sence of the word. I wish he was my neighbor.

"If you don't take money, they can't tell you what to do. That's the key to the whole thing." -Bill Cunningham

Keys

Waaah

I miss my long hair. I also miss getting paint in it. Fixin that this weekend.

Photo by : Ian Disheveled

Time Travel

If the mind is such a powerful thing, why haven't we been able to create a time machine so we can go back and see all the shows we never got to see, or even flying cars. A huber craft. A Delorean. Chop chop technology department! We are all waiting, I need to see Serge. Preferably in this life. Don't turn The Jetsons into liars.

YSL

Yves Saint Laurant was hands of Dior in the late 50's, at the ripe age of 21. Before Christian died, Yves had taken over haute couture. He WAS Paris fashion. After Christian Dior passed away he made the bold step forward and went out on his own. He launched YSL. In it's sophomore/junior year, YSL went Mod which the french hated, and brought us the women's tuxedo suit. He also did Piet Mondrian and he did it well. In a way he shaped a new woman. In the same way Mary Quant brought us the mini skirt or Diane von Fürstenberg brought us the wrap dress. He brought us out of our proper pencil skirts and Katherine Hepburn men's slacks. True pioneers in fashion. Anna Wintour was right to ask, who is next? Marc Jacobs, Jah bless him, is in his 40's. Who is going to change the shape of women in my generation? One can only hope that they look to their above mentioned forefathers for inspiration. A modern day YSL would be a breath of fresh air in these days of the lazy ishame haze.

"But you don't have to take my word for it"

My new lil guy. Now he only needs a name...hummmmmm. Truman? Shamus? Lavar? Yes! Lavar Burton it is. <3

Stoked!

“Once upon a time there was a girl I knew, who lived across the street. Brown hair, brown eyes. When she smiled, I smiled. When she cried, I cried. Every single thing that ever happened to me that mattered, in some way had to do with her. That day Winnie and I promised each other that no matter what, that we’d always be together. It was a promise full of passion and truth and wisdom. It was the kind of promise that can only come from the hearts of the very young.”

The Wonder Years on Netflix?!? Sooooo worth the 7 dollars a month now. Happy Friday!!

Procol your Harum

I'm melting...Swooooooon!

Lounge

I ain’t lookin’ to compete with you
Beat or cheat or mistreat you
Simplify you, classify you
Deny, defy or crucify you
All I really want to do
Is, baby, be friends with you

No, and I ain’t lookin’ to fight with you
Frighten you or tighten you
Drag you down or drain you down
Chain you down or bring you down
All I really want to do
Is, baby, be friends with you

I ain’t lookin’ to block you up
Shock or knock or lock you up
Analyze you, categorize you
Finalize you or advertise you
All I really want to do
Is, baby, be friends with you

I don’t want to straight-face you
Race or chase you, track or trace you
Or disgrace you or displace you
Or define you or confine you
All I really want to do
Is, baby, be friends with you

I don’t want to meet your kin
Make you spin or do you in
Or select you or dissect you
Or inspect you or reject you
All I really want to do
Is, baby, be friends with you

I don’t want to fake you out
Take or shake or forsake you out
I ain’t lookin’ for you to feel like me
See like me or be like me
All I really want to do
Is, baby, be friends with you



Bob Dylan 1964 All I Really Want To Do

10 and 2 lust

Men's Cape Cod Watch, Swiss-made, quartz movement, stainless steel case with silvered dial, Double-tour natural barenia calfskin strap with white Hermes stiching

$2,700.00

Say whhhat? Does that come with a high end hooker? I'm deeply saddened by the price but it doesn't make it any less dreamy.

1970

<3

More Meisel

He makes hair look edible. Yuuummmm!

More fond Manor mems...

I had a hand full of girls over the house and I knew that my drifter friend was coming over. I also knew that the girls that were there thought that this drifter was a cutie pie. (Knock Knock) Smiles turn into question marked faces, "who else is coming over?" I open the door with arms open wide and say "Hey Friend! I bought you some hookers!" We laugh, the girls didn't, and the drifter stows away his bag, he plops himself on the couch, hands on his knees and smiled..."Hello Ladies!" Needless to say the "hookers" went home and I got some quality time with my drifter. <3

Holy Anthony Perkins, Batman!

If I could recast Robin in the original Batman TV series, it would be with this guy.

The best 2 min and 34 seconds in Bat History

If you can watch this without laughing, Adam West and I should be able to come to your home, and personally slap you.

Damn straight.

Gotta love the cholo slow jams. Scratch that. Jamz.

Blonde Bed Burns

Madonna in the cliche
Photo by Steve Meisel