AFTER 900 HOURS ON THE INTERNET

The Weeknd the Morning

Last nights mascara makes my lashes stick together

Warm cool sheets fill the spaces between my fingers

My eyelids part opening the floodgates-

remember 

what 

happened 

last 

night

Que the montage of crossed legs 

and

Laughter 

A dozen applications of lipstick in tiny mirrors held by a manicured hand 

or in the dim light of a grafiti bathroom.

Slow blinks during conversations 

when eyes meet eyes that call for eyes.

And cheeks rise 

in city lights

"I dropped my bag! 

Pass me that napkin please! 

You're the sweetest man I've ever seen"

And there he is, unawakened by the roar of the imagery I piece together.

Should I stay or should I go?

smithpoint

when i listen to "THE XX" on the beach

my life feels so intense. 

try it. 

Magnum Weakness

 in the middle of bryant park

there is a bar

where you get a bar 

of icecream

it is so unbelievably perfect

this could be bad for my dress size

this is not a haiku

this is marketing genius, good for you Magnum Ice Cream

(which is probably hard to market, since it's a popsicle that's called magnum, you suck on this big chocolate falice shaped.... oh never mind)

cheers!

Pictured: the lovely Lindsey McCord

the most honest blog post in the history of the world

it's friday at 4:35pm.

my office doesn't have summer hours

Flower Face

In the original biography about Schiaparelli, "A Shocking Life" it talks about a girl child Elsa feeling ugly and stuffing seeds into her mouth nose and ears hoping to bloom flowers from all her face. She hoped to walk down the streets and be a wonder to all who saw, they'd exclaim how beautiful she was. She would be beautiful. Obviously we know nothing grew, and the child was sent to a doctor, but wouldn't it be nice?

This stayed with me.

I found a Shel Silverstein cartoon where a man grew a garden hair and cut it when laughed about.

Lady Gaga wore a flower helmet and everyone freaked out about how unwearable it was.

The girls string flowers for their hair to show how badly they want to be back in sync with nature

or to update their instagrams.

i want to eat flowers and let them grow from my pores.

I want to be my own version of beautiful.

Bloom.

THE GIRL IN THE NEOPRENE SKIRT

I am not a catty girl.

Friday night in Brooklyn, open house party for a new studio opening, hipsters and fashionable 21st century beatniks smoke their cigarettes and comment on books they've been reading outside the party occasionally dropping in to congradulate the owner or grab another drink:


in the middle of it all is the killer girl maybe 10 or 15 years older than me looking so fly in this huge ass white skirt. I spend 60% of the night trying to figure out the fabric from a non-creepy distance. Is it leather? neoprene? some new blend i've yet to hear of???!



Finally I get up the courage to go talk to her, I mean, we're all friends here, why not? We're all gathering for the same cause, we can all be in pleasant moods. The conversation went as follows

"Hey, I love your skirt, I've been looking at it from so far, is it neoprene?"

"What?"

"who makes your skirt"

"oh, it's designer" she says in a very thick French accent. 
Even a non-fashion-enthusiast would know this skirt is designer. This skirt has luxury written all over it, it's huge and glamorous and white. It's probably been the most beautiful garment I've seen in a really long time. 

"it's by a label called acne"

" I LOVE ACNE! Their stuff is amazing"

"yeah"

"My name's Mariah, what's your name?"

"_________."

now at this point, this is probably my fault, I should have picked up on the common social cues that clearly this girl did not want to be talking to me about Acne skirts and what not, but being so fashion-blinded by my affinity for this skirt, I kept on. I asked her where she worked -turned out to be a HUGE American fashion house. She then went on to tell me she doesn't hire American interns because she much prefers French ones. I tried to politely mention I had a job and wasn't looking for an internship. I weirdly tried turning the conversation around to show her I too was a fashion lover and not just some psycho. I failed miserably and then excused myself. 

I just wanted to be friends. 

Normally this would have just been a bruised ego and a moment that I could try and forget and get blushing red in the face whenever I think about it over the next few days, but the universe had another plan in store, the universe decided that I was not going to live this one down. 

Since that night of meeting Acne skirt girl, and feeling super uncool for how overly friendly I can sometimes be, I have seen this girl everywhere. I ran into her at PS1 MOMA WARM UP, I ran into her outside my job, and each time I just want to run and hide and duck for cover. Right now, Acne skirt girl on the loose, my life feels kind of like an UGLY BETTY episode. WHERE WILL SHE TURN UP NEXT?! AND WILL I BE ABLE TO KEEP MY COOL UNDER THE PRESSURE OF HER NEXT SUPER SWEET ENSEMBLE?!

HELP!

Francis Ha

Few films in the modern era capture the drunken hysteria and frowning existentialism that's experienced by the current 25-37 year old. The psychological damage of the parades of addresses and room mates and families built within days, that last mere seasons, has yet to be fully addressed. (mind you this is coming from a current 21 year old that's spent a life so in a rush to become an adult and be named a grown woman that my left hand is weighed down by diamonds and the pain and excitement of first or second love).  That being said there I am, dragging this fiance of sorts to the IFC to see "FRANCIS HA".
This film brings to a head the pangs of reality for the sake of art. In black and white, it paints the hazy magic of a memory while still consistently displaying the cold concrete of coming of age- not forgetting the  emotional distress in the realization one is rapidly approaching middle age. It exfoliates the internal sadness of realizing your youth is over and your life is beginning and all those times that everyone told you would be the quote, unquote, "time of your life" have come to an end while you were out there trying to be an artist and clinging to the man you lost your virginity to. It spear heads the ugly and bitter realization that your life in retrospect always sounds a million times more romantic than it is.

It brings up the idea that bliss is usually:

a.) made up and hasn't happened yet
b.) written in the form of a blog, and therefor written with the subconscious understanding that our mother will at some point google you and read this
c.) something that's happened long enough ago that it's filtered in a memory more beautiful than any instagram option can mask

The social media driven era makes you unconditionally and consequentially miserable.

This is were we are socially as awful as those that came before us. you know the ones we swore we'd never be. those in the nineties who in the moment thought they had it we had it the worst our current state would crush. fuck them we have it the worst. because it's all under this pressure of facebook which is a living high school reunion . this means, while for our parents it happened once every ten years, for us it happens every day and at the very least several times a week. we are living our parent hell and we we are trying to drown it our with a new york city vice tax that quadruples the vice tax of ever was and we're making the entry level job salary of 1993 -what the fuck are we supposed to do with that?!

and that's not to say we aren't aspiring artists or bankers but we're not. we don't stand a chance to be anything but posers because that's what all a generation equipped with 24 hour surveillance is allowed and given the tools to be. the days of dial-up are gone and with it the freedom to fail in the privacy of our own lives. and "Francis Ha" is the perfect essay to explain all of which I just attempted to, but in the slurry well scored cinematic way that makes you feel like you've taken a bath in art and modernity and in the end  are re-entering the world both cultured and clean.

more or less, go see it.

PS1 WARM UP

Long Island City, The PS1 Moma hoards of hipsters pour out of the G train to line up and the sun beats down on everyone but despite the heat, the mood is cheerful and everyone is in good spirits. 

PS1 hosts Warm Up Saturdays almost every week of summer and they're totally worth checking out, they aren't nearly as out of the way as "long island city" might sound. As of yesterday, the museum is now heavily guarded by the "Party Wall" an eco-happy giant grown-up amusement park in and of itself revealed yesterday by Young Architect  Caroline O'Donnell. The Party wall features pools and huge bungee wrapped punching bags of water that sporadically spray on the disco happening down bellow. 

Music:
The DJ set list as follows
Juan Atkins Lee Gamble HEATSICK NHK'Koyxen Bill Kouligas 

pretty steady electro beats

*me taken by Greg Keras

(sorry, beer is very expensive at these kinds of things...)

Yummy Mexican Corn

Midsommar Solstice

Central park  5th avenue street entrance. Friends are sitting on a red blanket amongst piles of macaroons, fruits and glasses. 

"Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it.  Let's plan something"
-Daisy, The Great Gatsby

 The summer solstice is my favorite day of the year. The sun shines all day so long that I feel like anything could happen. We planned a picnic. With our favorite treats and masks and the lovely inahbitants (mostly a family of baby ducks) of central park, we saw the latest sunset of the year in the heart of our city. It was a romantic and beautiful night, the kind that feels like a dream  in it's memory in the days to come. 

quote of the evening: "you live your life like a juicy couture advertisment" possibly the best compliment i've ever recieved. though i don't know when the next time i'll be jumping off a mountain after blowing glitter in someones face. never mind. i do. 

Whiskey, Chocolate, & Friendship

ST(o)RY , 10th avenue Manhattan New York, an older french man at the head for the room is smiling charmingly and I am seated among others with my dearest friend.

French chocolater, Michael Richart of Richart Chocolates,  began his monologue with simple explanations about the psychology of coupling (applied in both food and relationships). He talks about how two alike things are friends, and that's really good. But, he says, the right two things that are incredibly and perfectly unalike are love. He puts it so beautifully; "one plus one can be two, but when one plus one is three, or four, now you have something" (read this with a french accent and a smile for best results.)

He then guided us through a series of chocolate and whiskey pairings to prove his point. Starting with a perfect pair, then a fighting pair, and then back to perfect. He asked us what we thought refusing all adjectives that were expected like "sweet" or "smooth" and insisted we give him more more emotional responses.

The first like friendship but that could just be because I had my partner in crime by my side.

The second whiskey tasted like every man I've ever loved. Tall, tattood, handsome, likes to sleep in tents and buys me Dior. (possible side of delusions of Grandeur).

The third like summer.

He enjoyed eating it just as much as we did. His face lit up with passion and excitment every bite and every sip. He went on about focusing on tasting and not eating. We sat up straighter to hang heavier on his every word. He ended the event with the words, "I was born in a chocolate tree, and I hope very much that I die in a chocolate tree"

(the french so beautifully talk with their hands)

(as does sara sassafras)

Breaking News:

2013, social media has saturated the entire world and is constantly looking toward new ways to keep it's people clicking. 

Instagram is the Manet /Monet approach to photography. It's instantanious and momentary and sloppy. in  the way something looks in an instant or a memory more than the way something looks in reality. Instagram opens up a pannel for expression, a public diary of your day to day. And now, following in the footsteps of VINE they're bringing that approach to video. While I appreciate VINE as an app, (I have a whopping 2 videos on mine at the moment) I look forward to the drama that can be applied through filtering film. Also the new cinema feature that takes away the shakiness seems really awesome and advanced for a phone feature. 


FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM: @MSFIN for daily musings of my eating habits and epiphanies... and now dancing! 

    

Cleaning up

 The bathtub in my apartment in queens, 4am restless thursday morning, snoring dogs in the corner;

Art De vive. Live your life like art. Take your time, make it lovely. Make everyday things feel joyous. Take baths sing out loud read your poems to your friends in dim lit rooms 

After years if experimenting I have perfected my bath formula: 1/2 pop rocks bath bomb from lush 1/2 bath sea water bomb with real sea weed, moroccan hair mask, vanilla lavender candles,  and water that starts so hot you almost can't take it and cools down as you soak. Play "coexist" by the xx. 

The water is bright blue and the tub full of stringy green sea plant. I'm the kind of girl who doesn't get out of the bathtub if I'm having a bad enough day. The world may be in pieces but at least I smell wonderful.