POINTLESS

I'm soooo happy right now.
At this moment.
I'm goonda-shma-happy.
I love you and life is great. Yes, you. Peru on Sunday hey hey hey!
I'm just listening to Lykke Li and being happy.
So annoying.
I just feel like dancing and loving.
Here is a funny thing. If you have 20 minutes to rot your brain, watch these.
1. this is for real
2. this is a parody

brahahahaha

Vint Vint Uma Haunts Me

Yeah, come on outside. Let's freeze our no-no bits off and look out of place (out of time). This is a vintage trench from the Capitol Theatre's costume collection, shoes by Seychelles, pantalones H&M, vintage mohair hat from Germany, raw silk scarf from Still Eagle, and cowl-neck scarf from Urban Outfitters.

My room is such a fucking mess. I'm a mess yo! Luckily for me and unluckily for my neurosis, I've just discovered Bach Rescue Remedy Pastilles for natural stress relief. Better than the drops, but still hokey. They are unpleasantly sticky and chewy, but they come in a nice tin that would be perfect for storing your drugs in. That is how I plan on using it after I stress-chew my way through the lovely elderflower-flavoured gum-drops. Chew chew chew. Stress stress stress. I don't stress. Let's play games and chew on stress.


I'm so done with American fuckin Apparel right now. I ordered my stuff such a long time ago, but still nothing. I wanted this, this, and this to take as very practical-type garments on my SA trip. I sent them both witty and civil e-mails, still nothing. Civility obviously sucks. Fuck them. Fuck them up their cotton-spandex-sheathed asses.

Do I sound really angry today?
I'm not. Maybe I overdosed on Rescue Pastilles.
Maybe I'm just a bitch!
Heh heh, just kidding. I'm just PMS-y. WOOOO I love me!

yours in uterus-y anguish,
sclb

let's go somewhere else, you bitches

Well muthafuckin shit.
I just JUST got back from a potluck at the small forest home of my stylish forest friend.
It was boring.
I felt boring too... all self-conscious and afraid to show my brash and politically-incorrect side that loves to come out in group situations.
What the fuck?
I'm beginning to tire of this place, this country even. I wish to move to Oklahoma or New Orleans and start my life anew, where I don't have to worry about those beautiful "cool" people and their misuse of the word "phallic" (also, "blasé"). Now I'm sure New Orleans has those people too; I just have a very romanticized vision of my life there that has a lot to do with porches and bourbon and singin' the blues about crocodiles on the bayou. And I like that vision. That vision gives me happiness.
So shut up.
Anyways, after coming home from this situation wherein I felt I had to prove my steeziness time and again, I can't help but think that my current group of friends is so much better. They are not VIP at all the festivals; they don't fuck "famous" DJs; they don't have private art parties or anything glamourous, really. And thank God.
Anyways, enough of that.
I'm going to Peru in a few days so hopefully I don't get malaria.
Hopefully you don't either.
What was I talking about?
Ah who cares.
I'm going to go roll a spliff.
yours in bad humour,
sclb