happalieverafter

by atl



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What Is Your Broccoli Telling You?

If food could talk, would it want to be eaten? Perhaps yes, to fulfill a purpose or avoid rotting. Or… would it sink its heels into the ground and toss and turn and have an existential crisis about the inevitable CHOMP?!

Perhaps it did, but no one could regret that. Only a fool would regret being had by art; or a saint. Patti Smith, Just Kids

Post Grad Account

It was the summer when the main topic of conversation consisted of east and west. I, wanting east, S wanting west. Naturally, weather and crowds and space and public transportation made for good if not tired debates. To S, the allure of Los Angeles is captured in a snapshot somewhere near the California incline. To me, New York is Zizek’s retelling of Achilles and the tortoise? Maybe. A hypothesis untested, but soon to be poured over unapologetically. 

My rose colored glasses are dusty here, the sand from Santa Monica scratching at a surface disabling all powers of ogling.  

Moose in Three Parts

Commonplace

Though it really isn’t, at least not in Boston. Here, you understand the correlation between happiness and sunshine. I would offer: grey is a blanket, tucking even the heads and mouths of the entire city away under its color-mood. Sunshine showers (individually) in streaked spotlight, singling you out. It’s a recognition, filling you with a sense of worth and a personalized relationship to that almighty beating, bubbling star.

Handling

I.

A couple walks down a main street of the campus, holding hands in such a way that makes me feel like I shouldn’t be looking. I look. In fact, without my glasses, I almost bump into them before dashing across the street in a grand gesture of nonchalance. Like flying too close to a celebrity: what are you doing in plain view? Get behind a lens/The sun is a star.

I didn’t recognize either of them.

II.

A boy kisses a girl as he loads her into a bus, and I almost trip over the stairs/stares. For some reason, I imagine them in a black and white film. Him, gently guiding her into a car with a caress of the neck, and she helplessly waving a gloved hand as he trudges off to war— backpack and all.

Lorna Simpson
Gesture/Reenactments
1985

Lorna Simpson

Gesture/Reenactments

1985

How To Be A Good Person: A Few Simple Tips

Wash your hair. Not every day because the natural oils need to set in. Don’t condition too much (I’ve heard the “pads of the fingers” method, puppy wash). Get haircuts often. Split ends are no good, and neither is splitting them. Don’t dye your hair. Use a comb when it’s wet and a brush when it’s dry. Straighten it. Curl it. Relax it. Perm it. Get a Brazilian blow out, it’s all the rage. Wash your face. Do you have dry skin? Oily skin? Are you zitty, blistery, chapped? What’s your T-zone like? Get a facial. Don’t let your pores clog. Let a professional pop your zits; don’t try it at home. Use this brand, not that brand. Tweeze your eyebrows. Don’t try this at home. Get them shaped. Wear sunglasses. Protect against UV rays. Don’t read in the dark. When doing homework, look up every 10 minutes to readjust your vision. Do you need glasses? Dilated pupils. Audrey Hepburn pulled her eyelashes apart with a safety pin. Don’t pick your nose. And trim that nose hair if ya got it. Brush your teeth. And your gums. And your tongue. And the roof of your mouth. Floss. He’ll know if you didn’t. Wear chapstick. Preferably with SPF. Protect your lips. Wear sunscreen. Everyday. Even if it’s overcast— that’s when the sun’s the strongest. Up the SPF. Clean your ears. In them and behind them. To prevent wax from building up, hold hot water in your ears when you take a shower. Shave. Shave your mustache, your beard, your armpits, your arms, your legs, your back, your toes. Do you shave your balls? Wax it. Nair it. Tweeze it. Wear a bra. In the right size, you cheater. But don’t wear it to bed. Give yourself a breast exam every now and then. Check for moles. Moles could be cancerous, so always look. Cut your nails. Fingers and toes. Polish them to make them look good. File the ends. Pull the cuticles. If your nailpolish chips, start again. Did you remember to use a top coat? Groom yourself. Get a wax. How about a Brazilian? Keep it clean. Wash your feet. Buy a kit. Minty footwash is always in style. Watch your waist. And your abs. And your quads. And your ass. Go for a run. Take up yoga. Buy a treadmill. Get a gym membership. Get a NetFlix membership. Get a supermarket membership. Watch what you eat. Don’t eat carbs. Carbs are okay— cut back on proteins. No, that’s fine. Don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t sleep on your face. If you keep doing that thing with your mouth, it might get stuck that way. Take smaller bites. Eat more meals. Drink 8 cups of water a day. Have an apple a day. Fruits and veggies. Take your vitamins. Be centered.

Get hair extensions. Fake nails. Mascara. Padded bras. Control-top tights. High heels. Pantyhose. Get a nose job, implants, a face lift, make yourself pinker down there (people do it).

Keep a journal. Expand your mind. Do a crossword. Solve a word problem. Do something that makes you smile. Do something that makes you cry. Try new things; push your limits. Be an active citizen. Read the newspaper every morning. Watch the news. Do community service. Donate your money. Watch Oprah.

Check your smoke alarms at least once a month. Check your tire pressure anytime before you get in the car. Check your oil. Dust everything. Wash your hands before you eat. Wash your dishes after you eat. Make your bed every morning. Change your sheets once a week. Wash your towel. Wash your clothes. Wash your mouth out with soap when you curse. Wash the dog. Clean the oven. Clean the stove. Clean the toilet. Wipe yourself— completely.

Write birthday cards by hand. Or at least call em up. Communication is key in any relationship. Remember to talk. Remember not to get too mad. Be great in bed. Don’t go to bed angry. Don’t turn into your mother. Call your mother.

Plan ahead. Have canned food in the house. Dress in layers. Don’t sweat the small stuff. The devil’s in the details. Save your money, but stimulate the economy. Don’t be materialistic. Buy this coat. New trends for Fall 2011! Possessions make you whole. Hole? A woman’s closet is never complete without… You don’t own this stroller? You haven’t eaten at this restaurant? You don’t know what quinoa is? Top ten lists! Grocery lists. Soccer practices. Resume building. Get into a school. Get an internship. Get a job. Get a dog. Get a spouse. Get a life. Pay the meter. Pay the waiter. Pay your taxes. Pay your electric bill. Pay your dues. Pay your therapist.

Be happy.

Final

The problem with beginnings is that they make you think of endings. Is this true with other things? Does black mean white? Perhaps the ending is the equal and opposite reaction to a beginning, or, more obviously, it is just the inevitable. Like how they say the second you’re born is the second you start to die.

I’d like to enjoy my beginning without thinking about my ending, but I’m a product of planners and planning. Visualizing. So I equate the beginning to the ending. It’s almost the same thing. Why bother trying? But you need to try. Because what’s worse than ending is regret.

I feel anxious. Like I already lost. Like they aren’t telling me something.

And I don’t want it to end, but it’s already begun. Ending?

Sometimes When I Make My Bed I Think

I’m too old for this.

(it’s mostly the leaning and tucking)

Getting bored is not allowed. Sometimes I comb my hair with a fork. Eloise

Jean-Michel Basquiat

Horn Players

1983

Basquiat has always been one of my favorite artists, but doubly so after seeing Tamra Davis’ Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child. If you have a chance to see it, go go go!

Coincidentally, Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker’s Salt Peanuts is my newest most played song— with apologies to Sara. But you can listen to it even if ya can’t eat it, riiight?

Three Thoughts On My Mind

1. Boys Uniqlo Clothing >x3 Girls Uniqlo Clothing

2. Williamsburg may be cool and all that, but walking by those warehouses alone at night still makes me feel like I’m going to be sold into a prostitution ring. Or worse… see a rat.

3. Though economically sound, I have not yet bought another 12 inch sandwich from Subway (to eat 6 inches today and 6 inches tomorrow) for fear of repeating history (ie the 12 inch lunch debacle of last week).

xoxogossip girl

xoxogossip girl