#brooklyn bazaar

[nyc-looks]

Lily, 19

“My dress is from Beacon’s Closet in Brooklyn, the jacket from a vintage store in San Francisco, the boots from a thrift shop in Berkeley, my earrings are from The Thrifty Hog in Manhattan, and the necklace I got today at the Grand Bazaar flea market. My style is influenced a lot by my friends and my partner, Quan, they all have incredible taste. I wear whatever makes me feel comfortable and special.”

Mar 19, 2023 ∙ Upper West Side

#nyc looks #street style #street snaps #new york street style #vintage style #thrifted #grand bazaar #beacons closet #the thrifty hog #bay area thrift #outfit #people #new york

[letzternachtzug]

Amber Valletta, Harper’s Bazaar U.S.A., Brooklyn, New York, 1993 - ph. by Peter Lindbergh.

#amber valletta #peter lindbergh

[theartofmetal]

250. The Wild Hunt - Watain (Black Metal, 2013)

Art by Zbigniew M. Bielak

 On 15 June 2014 the band performed a 'special' show on their "The Wild Hunt" world tour in NYC at the Brooklyn Bazaar. This controversial performance went on to draw attention from news outlets due to the band drenching the crowd in pig's blood, and allegedly causing members of the audience to throw up.

#thank you @thespookytimetraveler for the rec!! #metal #black metal #art #artwork #music #painting #drawing #illustration #oil painting #heavy music #artist #cover art #heavy #sweden #uppsala #watain

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Lady C Tea YouTube 10/12/23 (a few nuggets paraphrased by me) by u/daisybeach23

Lady C Tea YouTube 10/12/23 (a few nuggets paraphrased by me) Greetings from Castle Goring!Let me read a statement from Harry, The Duke of Sussex. This is in relation to their attempts to use children and certain abuses online to further his and Meghan’s agenda of censorship. In that ridiculous symposium that he and Meghan were parachuted into by the largest company on earth, Blackrock. Harry said, “There is a reason why no one is working in this space. The size and power of these companies can make you feel scared and helpless. We all realize that.” Without realizing it, Harry is giving the game totally away, because HE is being backed by a large company and HE is not scared, nor is Meghan. In fact, he is using the company and they are using Harry and Meghan to increase a stranglehold on information. I have to give this a bit of a recap. They arrived in a 7-car convoy to travel 200 feet. They could have walked it in three minutes. Of course, that would have denied them to show how much they need security and how much they need 7 cars to protect them. What kind of protection are we getting against their word salad and rubbish? I suppose you must be careful about your carbon footprint but they do not. And, did you notice what she was wearing? She wore evening wear in the daytime, yet again. I have said this before. Meghan has no clue how to dress. She has no clue what is appropriate. She wore eveningwear to Trouping the Colour and church services during the day, in Britain. She wore a variation of the same outfit she wore to Ripple of Hope awards where she insists on showing us her big, broad shoulders. To wear evening wear in the middle of the afternoon, who does that except a tart or a scrubber? The woman is so inappropriate at all times it is beyond me. I don’t know if you noticed Catherine wore a smart trouser suit for the whole day. I don’t know if you noticed Meghan stopped off at a school on Brooklyn, Meghan wore spray on trousers. I don’t know if you have noticed but Meghan think she has the best figure and the best legs in the world when they are actually shapeless. She thinks her legs are the benchmark for leggy beauty. There is something deeply disconcerting about someone who is a public figure, objectifying herself. Remember she complained about being objectified by Deal or No Deal, but on two occasions in New York she objectified herself physically. The first time, she showed us her legs and chicken foot and then she showed us her bare shoulders. I am going to read a few remarks from the newspapers. This is going to show that despite Meghan and Harry’s efforts to be taken seriously, they are treated like a joke. Except for Harpers Bazaar who said she cemented her fashion icon status in an off the shoulder pantsuit. LOL….LOL….no, my dear…I was a student at the Fashion Institute. I am here to tell you that Diana Vreeland and Carmel Snow would be spinning in their graves that the magazine they made famous would make such a ridiculous statement. And when is Meghan going to stop emulating Medusa? We already know you are just like Medusa. The New York Post, Page Six, Associated Press and Town and Country all mentioned Harry and Meghan made their first return to New York after their “near catastrophic car chase.” Oh my was that the two hour car chase where they were traveling at two miles per hour? Sniff Sniff. The whole thing was a study in indignity, rampant exhibition of greed and power grabbing.

#SaintMeghanMarkle #harry and meghan #meghan markle #prince harry #voetsek meghan #sussexes #markled #archewell #megxit #duke and duchess of sussex #duchess of sussex #duchess meghan #duke of sussex #harry and meghan smollett #walmart wallis #harkles #megain #spare by prince harry #fucking grifters #meghan and harry #Heart Of Invictus #Invictus Games #finding freedom #doria ragland #WAAAGH #daisybeach23

[gargarismo-blog1]

Letallis - A Thousand And One Nights - Chapter 1

aking musical influence from OPETH, GOJIRA, THE BLACK DAHLIA MURDER, and conceptually based around the Arabian Nights tales, A Thousand And One Nights - Chapter 1 is the first of three upcoming EP releases. 

The band comments: 

"This music has been crafted to take you along the ride of the classic literary stories that transcend time. Filled with peaks, valleys, intimate moments and aggressive passages, each song is made to take the listener along the journey."

More on A Thousand And One Nights - Chapter 1: "Merchant": "This story begins with the listener journeying to a bazaar who encounters a mysterious merchant. The merchant entices the wanderer to read the tales that will eventually become A Thousand And One Nights."

"A Thousand And One Nights": "This is the first “frame” story to the ATAON. Telling the tale of a King who is betrayed by his wife. Consumed by hatred, he has her killed, and decides he will take a new, virgin wife every night. Sleeping with them for the night, and having them killed the next day to ensure he can’t be betrayed again. 

After several years of killing off nearly all the women virgins in his kingdom, his head vizier’s daughter offers herself to the king. She devises a plan; telling him such intriguing stories every night, yet not entirely finishing them, so that he becomes so captivated as to spare her life the next day. This goes on repeatedly for a thousand and one nights, until finally he spares her life permanently and they marry (Ouch. Happy ending much?) Overall a tale about a brave heroin figure who gives herself over to stop a merciless King."

"Thief": "Thief is based around the point of view of a street thief who will stop at nothing, burn any bridge, to get what he wants. Honor below all. He eventually has an encounter with a jinni, asking him to satisfy his endless greed. Overall about a person with insatiable hunger for anything he doesn’t already possess."

"The Vizier And The Sage": "This story is about a king who is stricken with leprosy. A man who has everything he could want in life, except his physical appearance. One day the king is approached by a sage who says he can cure him of his disease. The King, initially trusting the sage, takes him in and grants him many treasures. The Kings vizier, a very ill intentioned manipulator, convinces the king the sage cannot be trusted. 

The king eventually has the sage beheaded. But before his head is removed, he tells the king he has one last gift. After his beheading, place the sages head on a plate and he will instruct him. The king, instructed to read from a book by the now only head, flips through the pages, only to find them poisoned and is killed by the sage. The sages head proceeds to speak of how if the king hadn’t been manipulated by hate, he would still be alive. Overall a story of how many people already have all they need in life, if they only look for it. And to not be coerced by hateful opinions of others." About LETALLIS: Formed by Jake Calonius in New Jersey in 2006, the band released their first full-length The World Awakened, shortly after. the band soon took to the live stage opening up for bands like CANDLEMASS, DAYLIGHT DIES and POWERMAN 5000, as well as landing a spot at the NJ date of Warped Tour in 2008. Relocating to New York City in 2009, 2014 saw the release of Resonate. After joining forces with new drummer Alex Cohen (MALIGNANCY) and other members to play live, the band started gigging around NYC in 2017 and dove into the local metal scene. A Thousand And One Nights - Chapter 1, is the first EP in a series of three releases. LETALLIS is: 

Jake Calonius (Guitar/Vocals) Marcus Hedwig (Guitar) Alex Cohen (Drums) Credits:  All music written/recorded/mixed and mastered by Jake Calonius in Brooklyn, NY.  Lyrics by Jake Calonius.  Artwork by Carl Ellis.  ATAON calligraphy by Muhammed Basdag. "A Thousand And One Nights" pre-save link: https://show.co/0NENz4u

#letallis #heavy metal #melodic death metal #progressive metal #Bandcamp

[guerrilla-operator]

Your taste in music is great, what was your very first concert, and what's your best remembered / most influental concert?

Much appreciated, thank you!

First concert was Sting at Jones Beach with the Philharmonic backing him (very LOL now, but it was my high school graduation gift and I was a big Police/Sting guy for a bit)

Most remembered/influential is a tough pick, I’ve seen a lot of great acts in the day. Here’s a list of some I can pull off the top of the dome:

Samhain during their reunion tour and there’s a video where you can see me crowd surfing.

I’ve seen Agnostic Front probably like four times over the last decade with a variety of openers.

Went to Black n Blue Bowl twice (2015 and 2022) and both lineups were stacked.

Neurosis, Converge, and Amenra at the Warsaw (seeing Converge was like a religious experience)

Sleep with Earth’s Dylan Carlson opening at Brooklyn Steel

Crowbar at Amityville Music Hall

Failure and Swervedriver also at the Warsaw a day before I moved into the city (was extremely hungover moving in day)

My friend’s band Heavyhex opened for Militarie Gun, Dazy, and MSPAINT like a year and a half ago, that was fun

Carcass and Deafheaven played a gig in my hometown like right after Deafheaven dropped New Bermuda

108 reunion at Brooklyn Bazaar, I think Racetraitor opened

Sannhet, Self Defense Family, and Cloakroom also at the Brooklyn Bazaar

Self Defense Family at Saint Vitus for the recording of their live album (I think that might be my favorite, just because I own the record and it’s nice to have been a part of that experience)

TUI with No Warning, Wisdom in Chains, Down to Nothing at Revolution Music Hall

Negative Approach at the Acheron

Mayhem and Incantation at Revolution also

Poison Idea and Sheer Terror at AMH. Jerry A gave me the mic and I got to sing Just to Get Away (despite flubbing more than half the lyrics)

I’ve seen a lot, and I’m sure I’m missing some, but these are probably the big ones in my history

#asks #thanks for this #nice to go down memory lane

[jackfm]

[ jonathan bailey, cis man, he/him ] — whoa! JASPER ‘JACK’ TOMKINS just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for TEN YEARS, working as a MODEL / OWNER OF GLOW. that can’t be easy, especially at only 35 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit RESTLESS and STUBBORN, but i know them to be GENIAL and DILIGENT. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! — (penny, 24, gmt, she/her, none)

fullname:  jasper henry tomkins. nickname(s): jack ( used by everyone ), jas ( usually just close friends / family ), jasp ( uncommonly used ). age:  thirty-five. birthday: july 6th. gender / pronouns:  cis man ,  he / him. orientation:  homosexual / homoromantic. place of birth: oxford, england. current residence: 'vintage' loft apartment, brooklyn. height: 5'9. personality: considerate, pragmatic, evasive, self-critical.

born and raised in oxford jasper's parents were both teachers ( mum of biology & dad of history ) and he the youngest of three, with an older brother & sister. while his siblings followed in the academic path set by their parents, jasper was consumed by a love for ballet from a young age.

he attended the royal ballet school for several years thanks to bursaries, but at eighteen suffered a back injury that had to be treated with surgery and though he mostly recovered ( it still plays up every now and then ) but decided then it wasn't the career path for him.

so he started a degree in music and drama at university and ended up doing some modelling for fellow students in fashion and photography. with their encouragement & his family's, he built a portfolio and approached several agencies. he began part time work straight away ; dribs and drabs here and there, but enough for jack to find a real passion.

dropped out of uni and struggled through a few years of ups and downs ( mainly downs ) in london. his luck started to turn at 23 and this prompted his move to new york two years later. the ups and downs ratio slowly shifted towards more of the former and at 26 he booked his first real editorial shoot in an issue of harper's bazaar.

after this he started earning regularly in editorial and commercial fashion; enough to move from his first dingy brooklyn apartment and start saving. his ownership of glow came completely out of nowhere ; jasper would never dream of being a business owner. until, of course, a club space not far from his home became available. it is maybe the most impulsive thing he's ever done and for sure he has stress dreams about it since taking ownership with a friend ( maybe a wc ?? ) two years ago, but it's done and glow is now his baby. he still models & loves it of course, but channels most of his energy into glow.

it was always going to be an lgbtq+ space and it had been a club before, so that was a pretty easy decision. but it's by no means just a club. downstairs is only open from the evening and is the designated club space ( though there are alcohol-free & relaxed nights even in the club ), but upstairs is a much more relaxed space with a bar and cafe capabilities. jack really wants it to become a community hub of sorts.

headcanons

is probably a relatively mid to high-level model. he's had his fair share of shoots in popular magazines / work with well-known brands so recognisable to an extent, but not considered a supermodel or a household name, really.

supports local small businesses ( esp queer ones ) at any chance, whether in the club or through investment, sponsorship, whatever. he has money ( like, a good amount of it ) & kinda status for the first time in his life so is always trying to find ways to share it out and make sure as many people benefit as possible.

has been known to randomly appear at the club's karaoke night and take part. usually a wham! song or never gonna give you up if he's feeling funny. if he's not modelling, he can usually be found at glow, obsessing over one thing or the other and being a typical perfectionist / stress head overthinking things.

bubbly af ; just wants to be friends with everyone. lowkey golden retriever energy. some people-pleasing tendencies but he's getting better since being in business and realising that sometimes it's very important to say no.

a dreadfully hopeless romantic. his dating history has, like his career, had many ups and downs. still firmly believes in love and the idea of settling down with 'the one' which has been his most recent dating goal though he's fallen out of the scene a lot with being so busy.

i'm building a wee plots page here but it's bare af & i would frankly lay down my life for any plots at all

#boroughs.intro #this is pure gibberish but we move ! #pls love him. he will love u

[pixnflixnwrites]

Henri Cartier-Bresson by Genevieve Naylor, 1946 He's on assignment in Brooklyn for Harper's Bazaar.

"For me, the great myth is the Greek myth of Antaeus, who had to touch Earth to regain his strength. I know I must always keep in contact with the concrete, the small incident & the small, specific truth, which might have wide reverberations."

#Cartier-Bresson by Genevieve Naylor

[skullingwaydraws]

Yesterday I picked up some ✨prints✨. Really to happy to see a lot of these pieces in actual print!

I'll be at the Trans Art Bazaar in Brooklyn this Sunday (11/20) - come say hi if you are going as well! (btw the event is free, you just need to sign up)

Also put a lot of these smaller sizes up on my Etsy shop as well.

Hope to see you there if you're in the area 💖

#brooklyn #art print #queer artist #prints #etsy #it's my first time doing this kind of event soooo... hopefully it goes well? #the prints turned out great and I'm very happy with them!! they have a nice grain from the type of paper #I will also have stickers and my cute partner with me to also say hi #it will be cold tho so bundle up🥶

[vmfx]

PANDEMIC BLUES (SUMMER).

At the tail end of Spring, I posted Merzbow’s Pulse Demon here on my sister site. I noticed that someone from the New York City / Long Island area liked it and I decided to see who she was.

Hesitation marks. Satanist. Anorexia. Borderline Personality Disorder. Medications. Has an OnlyFans account. Topless Shibari pics- of herself. Too-much-information posts about cream-pies and wanting to fuck some random guy she met who ended up abandoning her to get high with his friends. Wow. For most people, there’s so many red flags waved to say “no” the first time and move on. Amazingly, the t.m.i. - not the self-abuse, Satanism, or BPD - had me say “no”, too, until I found her other page which showed a more leveled side to her. Posts relating to her anxiety and depression issues. The color pink. Cute Japanese cartoon animals, Animal Crossing, and owns animals herself. Her paleness laying on the backyard grass with her long dark flowing hair down her neck and skinny wrists across her purple tee holding her pet rabbit. I re-considered because I empathized and related with some of what she suffered through. It’s May, and if I don’t take it now then I may not have it later. So hand me the dice and let’s fucking roll.

Ruth* posted about doing your 100% in a relationship and I checked it off. A few moments later, she caught me posting something of mine I took from the neighborhood veteran’s park. She messaged me to ask if that’s where I got it from. We finally reached out to each other. Lo and behold…she’s from the very same town I am! In fact, we’ve crossed paths before in that same park on one warm Wednesday before sundown, but we didn’t realize it was each other until after the fact. She’s into darkwave, some noise, the post-punk / d.i.y. aesthetic, noise rock, and introduced me to The Mountain Goats. Overtime she’s disclosed her use of LSD, acid, and getting blackout drunk as coping mechanisms of years-long bullying and social isolation. One story she told me was when she approached Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu) after his Brooklyn Bazaar performance and ended up telling him her life story. Fortunately, no heroin. She’s stayed away from it as half of her friends she’s ever known have perished from it. But most importantly as mental health sufferers we also matched on our worlds of hurt, our worries of opening up and having doors shut in our faces, text anxiety, and remembering that last time we felt excited about something.

At times I was on edge because I’d assume the worst if I didn’t get her texts that night or seen her posting and ignoring me. Not so. We kept in close contact. Intense texting during off-days and breaks, in parking lots and even me laying in the emergency room two days before we met. She’d finally disclosed her Satanist practices which her ma’ hated (no animals sacrificed) and her nudes which she feared would lose my approval. No judgment. She didn’t send me any, just a bathroom selfie of her 5’7” Polish-Jewish self with black curly hair, pouty lips, and large-rimmed glasses. The concepts of re-assurance and honesty made me chance it and open up to her that I’d never did with anyone else that quickly…despite her somewhat shy shortcomings. I was feeling euphoric once again. I now had someone I’d fight for. She was unique and could give me most of what I was looking for in a female.

I saw her post occasional suicidal thoughts and had to intervene on sight, taking no chances. But Ruth assured me everything was OK and were just that - thoughts. On a happier note, she lamented on how she missed riding her bicycle because of how nice her butt looks. She got points for that one. The moment she felt sad about not being at the beach, I went for it and asked to take her. “Sure!” she said. Boxcars! To hear her say that made me feel so fucking good. It meant everything to me. With minimal worry, we were on our way in meeting each other soon.

I absorbed the June moment sitting in my backyard against the fence under the trees, the stars, the moon, and the dark blue night skies. Personal tranquility, promise, and hope segued into something good while the nation was burning from all the civil unrest and pandemic restlessness. Violence, protests, and scorching fires were born from George Floyd’s murder by the police. People none more fed up than ever in lockdown lost their jobs and their livelihoods by witnessing the collapse of their favorite pastimes, venues, and restaurants. All the while an enablist president with a lust for dictatorship, hate, and murdering democracy dead was steering this country towards a fascist state to the point of no return.

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday’s here. I wake up, I shower, and have a light breakfast. Fresh clothes are ready to be worn. Buzz, brush, and razor. Take the phone out of its case and polish it up. Wash the car and vacuum it because who knows what type of person she is. 3PM came and I got her text. Ruth and her ma’ were in the neighborhood tending to an injured animal. She gave me her address and told me to be there at 4PM. I’m on my way.

It’s a breezy but silvery day. The weather is in a drab mood, but not enough to tarnish my excitement. Ten minutes, three miles, and some narrow wooded roads east later, I arrive at her house - and it’s about to fall apart. The slightest flick of the match would burn it all down. There’s tin statues of mini-animals and mossy bird fountains all over the place to pony up the storybook charm. No sight of her 20 cats, her bunny, or bird. It’s been five minutes waiting for her to come out. Lord knows what she’s doing but it felt special that’s she putting the finishing touches on herself for me. The front door opens and here comes Ruth. I was very happy how she turned out. Green and white-striped tee, a denim overall mini-skirt and torn black hosiery with rainbow specks and black boots. This is the same girl who’s been posting lewds and Japanese schoolgirl uniform shots? You would never ever know it by looking at her. It’s Irma Langenstein with social media accounts and that 2010′s online edge but she’s still got that weirdness. We trade hellos and smiles, got in the car, and rode west on the service road to the south shore through the salt-and-peppered day.

I was so nervous with her that I couldn’t even form a complete sentence. I felt like I owed her an apology for stepping over some personal boundaries in getting privy about feelings and her hedonistic side. The soft-spoken nerd assured me that everything was OK. The more we spoke, the more things smoothed out and relaxed themselves. We slowly drove as she explained to me about her BPD and gradually went into her interests before we arrived at Gardiner Manor Park.

We cut through the wooden trails to reach the shoreline and walked on the sands, walking by the sea ribbons, discarded shells, and old aquatic artifacts. It was where she told me she attended the same university as I and had friends at the radio station. Who does she know? J-Ro. Everyone knows J-Ro. They’ve worked together at the organic supermarket. What did she get him for last year’s Secret Santa? Sacred Bones’ Killed By Deathrock. Wow, she knows what’s up. We backtracked through the woods where she opted for the long way out and worked out because I wanted my money’s worth. She saw me constantly being pinched by the mosquitoes, and kind enough of her to actually care and hose me down with her organic citrus repellent.

We had time after showing each other our SE’s to drive to Argyle Park still under the cool cloudy skies. We circled twice around the large duck pond dodging both the goose smears on the asphalt and people fishing off the elevated walkways, aiming to fill the air with nothing-talk to make up for the awkward silences between us. My mind’s racing, my breathing heavy, and my pace almost couldn’t keep up with this quick little walker. I’m exhausted, she’s exhausted, and so was whatever daylight Wednesday had left. It’s 7PM. Time to drive the mouse home.

One amusing point of our day was while driving back east on Main st. we heard screetching behind us. I look up and there’s a group of people on the sidewalk looking over to see what just happened. In my rear-view I saw an SUV that blew a light penetrated into a parked car. Ruth and I slowed down and looked at each other mortified to our chests. Had we been 5-10 seconds slower, we might’ve been casualties. We still drove north towards her house, up Railroad Ave. and past what used to be the old Vinyl Paradise which was now George’s Vintage Clothing & Records.

I’m with a woman whose Williamsburg-mind would fit more in the city than on the island. Ruth had many friends to rely on in case of shelter and recently celebrated with a close friend who found an apartment in Queens, while she just returned from a winter job in Denver and came home with no car, no job, and no money in the bank. I wasn’t fazed at all. Along the way she’s disclosed to me that she’s had ten straight years of relationships lasting from five months to two years with at most four-month gaps of being single in-between. She’s been undefeated in the break-up department because she gets sick of them. All of them. No reason needed.

We pull up in front of her house. We have our final smiles and say our goodbyes to each other. I see her walk in through the front door and I slowly drive away. I arrive home and came down sad that our day ended. It shouldn’t have. With my luck, a day like this should’ve never happened, but somehow it did. And now I’m wrapping my head around it. I take off my black shirt. The aura of her citrus repellent overlapping mine of basil, black pepper, and cedar on fresh woven cotton lingered on for what would forever burn in my mind of our day together. I had a great time with someone who was on my level and wasn’t like anyone else from the island. That was capped off when I just got a happy positive text from Ruth: she had a great time, and it was nice meeting me.

* * * * * * * * * *

I gave it a few days to see how Ruth was doing. I texted her and asked her if she could go to George’s Vintage- one day with me.

“Sure! I’d love to go!” she exclaimed. So far so good. Then I asked her when she was available. No return text. My attempt to see her again fell on deaf ears. That’s odd. I didn’t want to push it, so I waited a couple of days and asked her again. She did somewhat reply, saying that she couldn’t talk because she had friends over and wasn’t able to make plans. There were times during my lunch break at work where I would shoot her a random text or music video like she had with me before. No response. Something wasn’t right. I had a feeling that things were deteriorating between us.

I saw that she just re-blogged something - about playing on people’s feelings, enticing them for sex and weed before abandoning them and never seeing them again. #that’s totally me! lol, she tagged. Are you kidding me? Is she really serious? Displaying her intentions for all to see about taking people for a ride and leaving them at the curb is all a silly game to her? Absolutely disgusting. I felt it, because this could be something she was setting up for me. The tension was tightening up and pulling away from the center. The metal thick-gauge wire was fraying and was about to snap apart. I said nothing about it to her and rolled the dice again on future plans, hoping she would snap out of it. I texted her if Thursday or Friday was good. She replied and said that she couldn’t. She had other plans to celebrate a couple of birthdays in with her family. I wasn’t going to hustle it, and with respect I told her to have fun and have a good time.

That week, New York State announced that all restaurants would re-open providing safety measures were implemented. I had no work that Thursday. I was craving for Japanese food after three months of total closures across the board. I went to Commack to sit down and chow down as much as I could for a couple of hours. I tried out half of everything they offered on the menu. All the red tuna and salmon sushi rolls, sashimi, miso soup, dumplings, fried rice, noodles with peanut sauce, and lychees I could possibly eat to the point of almost passing out. I tapped out and asked for the bill, paid my way out and left the restaurant almost unable to walk to my car. I got home and took a two-hour nap to relieve the food coma I was suffering from. It’s 6PM. The gym was still under lock-down and I felt like I didn’t accomplish enough for the day. Off to the neighborhood park I go.

My visit started like any other. Arrive with my SE in hand with my headphones and start walking around. Dark sounds of grimy, electric dancehall were in my ears as I minded my own business and wandered around the crooked wooden pathways. A group of people caught my peripherals during my travels. I look to my left to see a group of three people and…Ruth? She recognized me and waved hello in my direction. Such a…surprise to…see her? My mind knew something was wrong and couldn’t help to ask why she wasn’t with her family. That was my first instinct.

“Hey, Ruth…weren’t you supposed to be with your family?” I asked. “Yeah, but we’re taking a different shortcut through the park to meet our other friends!” she smiled. I took a pounding one-two punch. I was baffled when two and three equaled zero and nothing added up right. I saved face and said goodbye to her and the two others she was with.

“It was nice meeting you!” said one of her friends as I walked away from them; a verbal smack in the face disguised as a sweet, pleasant manner. I left the park feeling disposed and thrown out. What a dirty low-down tactic for someone to blatantly lie to me and smile in my face like I was nothing. Never had I felt so dejected and disgusted with anyone. She turned into a totally different person, othello-ing me in only a week’s time. There was nothing I could do except to sit.

She purposely stayed off for a few days until after the 4th of July weekend because she knew I wanted to make plans with her. Now here’s a new update on her leveled blog: blow-job posts and golden showers are her new fetish. Great to know. I asked myself why we’re still following each other. I had to get out of there and cut my losses before I discovered other things about her I didn’t ask for. At this point I don’t even know who she was anymore, so I unfollowed her. Ruth, being self-conscious of people leaving her, saw it. She finished the job and unfollowed me in return with the quickness. Snake eyes. Money’s over. Good-bye and good riddance to each other.

How did I fuck this one up? It could’ve been our shaky nervous start, the age difference, my openness, or pushing the accommodations too hard. But she didn’t tell me. Why would she? It’s more fun to keep people dazed in circles guessing. The games and deceit, careless abandon, moments that would never be, losses accruing, and what was once OK now non-acceptable made the hurt-avalanche come down hard. My anxiety, depression, and loneliness returned with it. If there was one moment in life that I was right the first time, it’s this one. Kevin Parker said it best: “the less I know, the better”. Had I stuck to my guns before, then none of this would’ve happened. But no. Common sense flew right out the window because Summer was at stake. It came down to risk versus reward and I lost.

Days after the fact and my mind was keeping itself busy over-calculating and over-thinking what hurt the most. I still couldn’t get her out of my head. Envisioning her getting shaken and rocked by some other luckier undeserving guy. What in Christ’s name she’s posting on her money accounts kept me up at night because I went out of business and who knows above what I’ve done to have it all collapse. The intense flares in my mind lit vividly and radiantly thinking of what I could’ve had with her and lost.

Before we met, I read the risks as much as I could and did my 100% to support her. I got all the difficult questions out of the way about her kinks, drug use, and t.m.i. because I wasn’t going to revisit another life-changing personal collapse like what happened before: the Brooklyn goth girl who gave me my latest heartbreak that forever changed me for the worse. Since then, I pay an even heavier price for strikes and losses these days which, adjusted to inflation, I’m still struggling to pay off. This time, I took everything I saw at face value instead of ignoring the ugly truths shielded by the beautiful lies. I already knew at first sight, so why pretend to be naive and ignore the cards on the table? Because I asked, my situation with Ruth didn’t hit hard as before. Yet, I underestimated how severe her instability was and that’s why I’d never thought it’d backfire that quickly. Did she intend on turning against me all along? Did she know what she was doing? Am I right to feel hurt and upset as I should? How fucked up was it that what we both suffered through were the very same things she ultimately used against me? Does she really hate me that much? Can I blame her? It may be her mental duress that already made her feel sick of me like the other men she’s been with, but what’s the difference? Sufferers do what they do with no apologies like non-sufferers do, just like Satanists need little or even no reason at all to go for the kill as much as non-Satanists who are as naturally heartless when they tell others to fuck off; compacting the sting of being suddenly tossed aside so quickly like an option while I’ve made them a priority.

My anxiety / depression drove its fangs deeper into my skin and almost right to the bone. The venom induces black spots, obscura, cataracts, and tinnitus. Illusions, juxtapositions, and reversed images. Everything made me lose focus on myself and the beauty in things I’m after. It’s scrambled the ideas that gave me value in myself and separate myself from the others. I couldn’t see and experience things others were enjoying because my mind was on overdrive, scrambling to find answers or imagining all the relentless regret, false constructs, failures, catch-22’s, contradictions, double standards, and fear of being left behind. My memory was failing on me because my mind was burnt out on fighting these intense obstacles that clouded my vision.

Anxiety / depression and BPD are such demons; always behind the controls to make one raging hot or on total shutdown. No matter how hard I shake them off, they never let go. Look around in this dystopian America I live in; the three-ring circus politics, the constant barrage of lies and defeatist news producing ubiquitous toxicity. The self-demoralization and -devaluation from friends, family, and co-workers. Social media, dating-site pitfalls, repetition re-enforcement, the quarantine and isolation have all lowered human emotional morale. I’ve come to realize that my lifetime threshold of tolerance for drama, rudeness, and being taken advantage of has way exceeded its limits. I’m sick and tired of being disappointed, mistreated, and broken. But as I learned dealing with mental illness, it’s out of my hands. There’s no end to it in sight. Not where I’m from.

I’ve seen a huge push for mental health awareness along with a growing urgency for it to be more inclusive and less ostracized in society’s eyes. Unlike my dad who used to attack everything that moved, I confided to my surviving family who listened with welcoming ears. Friends whom I can count on one hand stopped and took the time to listen to me unconditionally. Followers of mine opened themselves up to me about their emotional struggles and that support went both ways. Everyone else who saw me down on my luck picked me up with no judgment because I chose the right ones. (Save for my general manager who seemed concerned about my well-being but was really interested in how far I gotten with her.) Some of them warned me to issue common sense next time and to stop at red flags instead of speeding past them - doing so to see the good in people would certainly cost me later.

Knowing me, I would’ve kept going because she was more than I had: nothing. There are nights I still think of her and sympathize with her hellish struggles. We should’ve been supporting and sympathizing. Instead, we despise each other. We have our own reasons. I can’t ignore the fact that she acted spitefully. I’ve been hurt way too many times but she didn’t see it, and those effects still linger to this day. Sadly, in Long Island’s disposable world of dating and meeting people, it’s all or nothing. No in-between, no gray area, no room for error, no negotiations. Once it’s over, it’s over. And after all that happened, I don’t regret meeting her. Not one bit.

* * * * * * * * * *

Every evening after my workout session, I sit by the lakeside for peace of mind and meditation. Come 6-7PM I’ll watch families, couples, and groups of friends stroll along the decks and sandy shorelines under the setting sun behind the trees. The bright yellow sunbeam streams are blocked by the trees surrounding the water all around as the horizon turns different dim shades of gray, orange, turquoise, and dark blue morphing by the goodbye sun; peeling back all shades of light to reveal the moon hanging overhead. A car full of young teens pull into the parking lot behind the lake with The Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights” blaring, the new Summer hit sensation. The daily treks through my neighborhood to the trails with an iPhone full of post-punk and d.i.y. grasping the aesthetic are over. I can never return. What a waste that I can’t enjoy myself in the very town that I live in, that is, unless I want to chance re-opening new wounds and enjoy feeling sick to my stomach, running into friends-turned-strangers who threw me away.

It’s 2AM Monday morning. I’m in my own spacious backward sitting on the fresh cut grass away from the swimming pool. The full moon smiles down on me as it chases Saturn and Jupiter. Faint trails of clouds suspend themselves against the clear hazy milky skies. I hear the rushes of vehicles riding down the highway that’s 300 feet away from my home but the streams and perpetual frequencies of chirping crickets are closer proximity and priority. 

And now, tonight's news: the Brazilian woman from the radio station is out vacationing on a yacht with her new boyfriend who's all smiles and they're having the time of their lives. A goth-girl acquaintance is raving about her new b.f. and how she's screaming up and down the block telling everyone how much of a great guy he is. The ginger with the burning red hair, big brown eyes, and freckles just put up pics- of her boyfriend whose arms are wrapped around her with this hot-shit look on his face. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here feeling worthless while all of this is going on as the world keeps rotating without my input. Charli XCX & Sky Ferreira’s “Cross You Out” and Grime’s “Violence” run burning hot and full of euphoric energy from my iPhone right to my head. In A Dramatic Gesture’s “Basic Aerobic” plays right after, a track that took me back to when I had more promise between us. 

 But any time I think of how left-field The Mountain Goats sounded, it’ll remind me of her. I have forever quit them. Now those sounds are tainted by bad experiences, cruelties, and large pills hard to swallow. What a disgrace that it’s summer and there’s no one to share any moments with. No one to stay up with at night to talk about favorite music artists, the state of consciousness and well-being, or prying my mind wide open and say what I’m thinking or feeling - without repercussions or feeling demonized and vilified.

Who knows where she is or what she’s up to. Is she sleeping her precious daylight away? Did she find another guy to share her next drug journey with, or what sexual acts is he putting herself through now that she’s ready to go? All I know is she’s having a winning Summer. I'm not.

#personal #Long Island #dating #Charli XCX #Sky Ferreira #Grimes #The Weeknd #mental health

[rwmarketingunit2]

1980s

The eighties is often remembered for its materialism and its explosion of blockbuster movies and the upcoming of new cable networks such as mtv meaning fashion was rapidly changing in the 1980s and was more diverse then ever before this. The fashion trends in the decade represented many different groups of people sharing trends at the same time with bright, bold and loud clothes. Although many trends were the same within this era your fashion choices defined you and revealed who you were as a person and what group of people you came under. The 1980s were a golden age for music and movies and all the iconic looks and fahsion that came along with that.

The eighties was an era where appearances appeared more important than ever as people became more and more self conscious this lead to a huge fitness trend in the 80s. This trend brought dance and fitness wear from the gym and studio too the runway and the street. A key influence to many was Jane Fonda who ran the eighties fitness game altogether. Fonda popularised the iconic aerobics outfits from this era with her neon leotards and leg warmers which were seen in all of her workout tapes.

Harvard referencing:

80s fashion: 80s Women's Fashion: 80s style (2022) 80's Fashion | Your Guide To 80s Fashion And Culture. Available at: https://www.80sfashion.org/ (Accessed: December 13, 2022).

80s workouts and their impact on fitness (2021) SOMA. Available at: https://soma.fitness/2021/10/12/80s-workouts-and-their-impact-on-fitness/amp/ (Accessed: December 13, 2022).

History.com Editors (2018) The 1980s, History.com. A&E Television Networks. Available at: https://www.history.com/topics/1980s/1980s (Accessed: December 13, 2022).

Jane Fonda's 80s workout revolution (2022) 80's Fashion | Your Guide To 80s Fashion And Culture. Available at: https://www.80sfashion.org/jane-fondas-80s-workout-revolution/ (Accessed: December 13, 2022).

Pam (no date) The 80s fitness craze, Go Retro! Available at: https://www.goretro.com/2011/09/80s-fitness-craze.html?m=1 (Accessed: December 13, 2022).

Shelby Ying Hyde Shelby Ying Hyde is a Brooklyn-based shopping and fashion contributor BAZAAR.com (2022) 21 fashion moments from the 1980s worth revisiting, Harper's BAZAAR. Available at: https://www.harpersbazaar.com/fashion/trends/g6549/80s-fashion-photos/ (Accessed: December 13, 2022).

[omegaplus]

# 4,098

Pandemic Blues (Summer).

At the tail end of Spring, I posted Merzbow’s Pulse Demon here on my sister site. I noticed that someone from the New York City / Long Island area liked it and I decided to see who she was.

Hesitation marks. Satanist. Anorexia. Borderline Personality Disorder. Medications. Has an OnlyFans account. Topless Shibari pics- of herself. Too-much-information posts about cream-pies and wanting to fuck some random guy she met who ended up abandoning her to get high with his friends. Wow. For most people, there’s so many red flags waved to say “no” the first time and move on. Amazingly, the t.m.i. - not the self-abuse, Satanism, or BPD - had me say “no”, too, until I found her other page which showed a more leveled side to her. Posts relating to her anxiety and depression issues. The color pink. Cute Japanese cartoon animals, Animal Crossing, and owns animals herself. Her paleness laying on the backyard grass with her long dark flowing hair down her neck and skinny wrists across her purple tee holding her pet rabbit. I re-considered because I empathized and related with some of what she suffered through. It’s May, and if I don’t take it now then I may not have it later. So hand me the dice and let’s fucking roll.

Ruth* posted about doing your 100% in a relationship and I checked it off. A few moments later, she caught me posting something of mine I took from the neighborhood veteran’s park. She messaged me to ask if that’s where I got it from. We finally reached out to each other. Lo and behold…she’s from the very same town I am! In fact, we’ve crossed paths before in that same park on one warm Wednesday before sundown, but we didn’t realize it was each other until after the fact. She’s into darkwave, some noise, the post-punk / d.i.y. aesthetic, noise rock, and introduced me to The Mountain Goats. Overtime she’s disclosed her use of LSD, acid, and getting blackout drunk as coping mechanisms of years-long bullying and social isolation. One story she told me was when she approached Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu) after his Brooklyn Bazaar performance and ended up telling him her life story. Fortunately, no heroin. She’s stayed away from it as half of her friends she’s ever known have perished from it. But most importantly as mental health sufferers we also matched on our worlds of hurt, our worries of opening up and having doors shut in our faces, text anxiety, and remembering that last time we felt excited about something.

At times I was on edge because I’d assume the worst if I didn’t get her texts that night or seen her posting and ignoring me. Not so. We kept in close contact. Intense texting during off-days and breaks, in parking lots and even me laying in the emergency room two days before we met. She’d finally disclosed her Satanist practices which her ma’ hated (no animals sacrificed) and her nudes which she feared would lose my approval. No judgment. She didn’t send me any, just a bathroom selfie of her 5’7” Polish-Jewish self with black curly hair, pouty lips, and large-rimmed glasses. The concepts of re-assurance and honesty made me chance it and open up to her that I’d never did with anyone else that quickly…despite her somewhat shy shortcomings. I was feeling euphoric once again. I now had someone I’d fight for. She was unique and could give me most of what I was looking for in a female.

I saw her post occasional suicidal thoughts and had to intervene on sight, taking no chances. But Ruth assured me everything was OK and were just that - thoughts. On a happier note, she lamented on how she missed riding her bicycle because of how nice her butt looks. She got points for that one. The moment she felt sad about not being at the beach, I went for it and asked to take her. “Sure!” she said. Boxcars! To hear her say that made me feel so fucking good. It meant everything to me. With minimal worry, we were on our way in meeting each other soon.

I absorbed the June moment sitting in my backyard against the fence under the trees, the stars, the moon, and the dark blue night skies. Personal tranquility, promise, and hope segued into something good while the nation was burning from all the civil unrest and pandemic restlessness. Violence, protests, and scorching fires were born from George Floyd’s murder by the police. People none more fed up than ever in lockdown lost their jobs and their livelihoods by witnessing the collapse of their favorite pastimes, venues, and restaurants. All the while an enablist president with a lust for dictatorship, hate, and murdering democracy dead was steering this country towards a fascist state to the point of no return.

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday’s here. I wake up, I shower, and have a light breakfast. Fresh clothes are ready to be worn. Buzz, brush, and razor. Take the phone out of its case and polish it up. Wash the car and vacuum it because who knows what type of person she is. 3PM came and I got her text. Ruth and her ma’ were in the neighborhood tending to an injured animal. She gave me her address and told me to be there at 4PM. I’m on my way.

It’s a breezy but silvery day. The weather is in a drab mood, but not enough to tarnish my excitement. Ten minutes, three miles, and some narrow wooded roads east later, I arrive at her house - and it’s about to fall apart. The slightest flick of the match would burn it all down. There’s tin statues of mini-animals and mossy bird fountains all over the place to pony up the storybook charm. No sight of her 20 cats, her bunny, or bird. It’s been five minutes waiting for her to come out. Lord knows what she’s doing but it felt special that’s she putting the finishing touches on herself for me. The front door opens and here comes Ruth. I was very happy how she turned out. Green and white-striped tee, a denim overall mini-skirt and torn black hosiery with rainbow specks and black boots. This is the same girl who’s been posting lewds and Japanese schoolgirl uniform shots? You would never ever know it by looking at her. It’s Irma Langenstein with social media accounts and that 2010′s online edge but she’s still got that weirdness. We trade hellos and smiles, got in the car, and rode west on the service road to the south shore through the salt-and-peppered day.

I was so nervous with her that I couldn’t even form a complete sentence. I felt like I owed her an apology for stepping over some personal boundaries in getting privy about feelings and her hedonistic side. The soft-spoken nerd assured me that everything was OK. The more we spoke, the more things smoothed out and relaxed themselves. We slowly drove as she explained to me about her BPD and gradually went into her interests before we arrived at Gardiner Manor Park.

We cut through the wooden trails to reach the shoreline and walked on the sands, walking by the sea ribbons, discarded shells, and old aquatic artifacts. It was where she told me she attended the same university as I and had friends at the radio station. Who does she know? J-Ro. Everyone knows J-Ro. They’ve worked together at the organic supermarket. What did she get him for last year’s Secret Santa? Sacred Bones’ Killed By Deathrock. Wow, she knows what’s up. We backtracked through the woods where she opted for the long way out and worked out because I wanted my money’s worth. She saw me constantly being pinched by the mosquitoes, and kind enough of her to actually care and hose me down with her organic citrus repellent.

We had time after showing each other our SE’s to drive to Argyle Park still under the cool cloudy skies. We circled twice around the large duck pond dodging both the goose smears on the asphalt and people fishing off the elevated walkways, aiming to fill the air with nothing-talk to make up for the awkward silences between us. My mind’s racing, my breathing heavy, and my pace almost couldn’t keep up with this quick little walker. I’m exhausted, she’s exhausted, and so was whatever daylight Wednesday had left. It’s 7PM. Time to drive the mouse home.

One amusing point of our day was while driving back east on Main st. we heard screetching behind us. I look up and there’s a group of people on the sidewalk looking over to see what just happened. In my rear-view I saw an SUV that blew a light penetrated into a parked car. Ruth and I slowed down and looked at each other mortified to our chests. Had we been 5-10 seconds slower, we might’ve been casualties. We still drove north towards her house, up Railroad Ave. and past what used to be the old Vinyl Paradise which was now George’s Vintage Clothing & Records.

I’m with a woman whose Williamsburg-mind would fit more in the city than on the island. Ruth had many friends to rely on in case of shelter and recently celebrated with a close friend who found an apartment in Queens, while she just returned from a winter job in Denver and came home with no car, no job, and no money in the bank. I wasn’t fazed at all. Along the way she’s disclosed to me that she’s had ten straight years of relationships lasting from five months to two years with at most four-month gaps of being single in-between. She’s been undefeated in the break-up department because she gets sick of them. All of them. No reason needed.

We pull up in front of her house. We have our final smiles and say our goodbyes to each other. I see her walk in through the front door and I slowly drive away. I arrive home and came down sad that our day ended. It shouldn’t have. With my luck, a day like this should’ve never happened, but somehow it did. And now I’m wrapping my head around it. I take off my black shirt. The aura of her citrus repellent overlapping mine of basil, black pepper, and cedar on fresh woven cotton lingered on for what would forever burn in my mind of our day together. I had a great time with someone who was on my level and wasn’t like anyone else from the island. That was capped off when I just got a happy positive text from Ruth: she had a great time, and it was nice meeting me.

* * * * * * * * * *

I gave it a few days to see how Ruth was doing. I texted her and asked her if she could go to George’s Vintage- one day with me.

“Sure! I’d love to go!” she exclaimed. So far so good. Then I asked her when she was available. No return text. My attempt to see her again fell on deaf ears. That’s odd. I didn’t want to push it, so I waited a couple of days and asked her again. She did somewhat reply, saying that she couldn’t talk because she had friends over and wasn’t able to make plans. There were times during my lunch break at work where I would shoot her a random text or music video like she had with me before. No response. Something wasn’t right. I had a feeling that things were deteriorating between us.

I saw that she just re-blogged something - about playing on people’s feelings, enticing them for sex and weed before abandoning them and never seeing them again. #that’s totally me! lol, she tagged. Are you kidding me? Is she really serious? Displaying her intentions for all to see about taking people for a ride and leaving them at the curb is all a silly game to her? Absolutely disgusting. I felt it, because this could be something she was setting up for me. The tension was tightening up and pulling away from the center. The metal thick-gauge wire was fraying and was about to snap apart. I said nothing about it to her and rolled the dice again on future plans, hoping she would snap out of it. I texted her if Thursday or Friday was good. She replied and said that she couldn’t. She had other plans to celebrate a couple of birthdays in with her family. I wasn’t going to hustle it, and with respect I told her to have fun and have a good time.

That week, New York State announced that all restaurants would re-open providing safety measures were implemented. I had no work that Thursday. I was craving for Japanese food after three months of total closures across the board. I went to Commack to sit down and chow down as much as I could for a couple of hours. I tried out half of everything they offered on the menu. All the red tuna and salmon sushi rolls, sashimi, miso soup, dumplings, fried rice, noodles with peanut sauce, and lychees I could possibly eat to the point of almost passing out. I tapped out and asked for the bill, paid my way out and left the restaurant almost unable to walk to my car. I got home and took a two-hour nap to relieve the food coma I was suffering from. It’s 6PM. The gym was still under lock-down and I felt like I didn’t accomplish enough for the day. Off to the neighborhood park I go.

My visit started like any other. Arrive with my SE in hand with my headphones and start walking around. Dark sounds of grimy, electric dancehall were in my ears as I minded my own business and wandered around the crooked wooden pathways. A group of people caught my peripherals during my travels. I look to my left to see a group of three people and…Ruth? She recognized me and waved hello in my direction. Such a…surprise to…see her? My mind knew something was wrong and couldn’t help to ask why she wasn’t with her family. That was my first instinct.

“Hey, Ruth…weren’t you supposed to be with your family?” I asked. “Yeah, but we’re taking a different shortcut through the park to meet our other friends!” she smiled. I took a pounding one-two punch. I was baffled when two and three equaled zero and nothing added up right. I saved face and said goodbye to her and the two others she was with.

“It was nice meeting you!” said one of her friends as I walked away from them; a verbal smack in the face disguised as a sweet, pleasant manner. I left the park feeling disposed and thrown out. What a dirty low-down tactic for someone to blatantly lie to me and smile in my face like I was nothing. Never had I felt so dejected and disgusted with anyone. She turned into a totally different person, othello-ing me in only a week’s time. There was nothing I could do except to sit.

She purposely stayed off for a few days until after the 4th of July weekend because she knew I wanted to make plans with her. Now here’s a new update on her leveled blog: blow-job posts and golden showers are her new fetish. Great to know. I asked myself why we’re still following each other. I had to get out of there and cut my losses before I discovered other things about her I didn’t ask for. At this point I don’t even know who she was anymore, so I unfollowed her. Ruth, being self-conscious of people leaving her, saw it. She finished the job and unfollowed me in return with the quickness. Snake eyes. Money’s over. Good-bye and good riddance to each other.

How did I fuck this one up? It could’ve been our shaky nervous start, the age difference, my openness, or pushing the accommodations too hard. But she didn’t tell me. Why would she? It’s more fun to keep people dazed in circles guessing. The games and deceit, careless abandon, moments that would never be, losses accruing, and what was once OK now non-acceptable made the hurt-avalanche come down hard. My anxiety, depression, and loneliness returned with it. If there was one moment in life that I was right the first time, it’s this one. Kevin Parker said it best: “the less I know, the better”. Had I stuck to my guns before, then none of this would’ve happened. But no. Common sense flew right out the window because Summer was at stake. It came down to risk versus reward and I lost.

Days after the fact and my mind was keeping itself busy over-calculating and over-thinking what hurt the most. I still couldn’t get her out of my head. Envisioning her getting shaken and rocked by some other luckier undeserving guy. What in Christ’s name she’s posting on her money accounts kept me up at night because I went out of business and who knows above what I’ve done to have it all collapse. The intense flares in my mind lit vividly and radiantly thinking of what I could’ve had with her and lost.

Before we met, I read the risks as much as I could and did my 100% to support her. I got all the difficult questions out of the way about her kinks, drug use, and t.m.i. because I wasn’t going to revisit another life-changing personal collapse like what happened before: the Brooklyn goth girl who gave me my latest heartbreak that forever changed me for the worse. Since then, I pay an even heavier price for strikes and losses these days which, adjusted to inflation, I’m still struggling to pay off. This time, I took everything I saw at face value instead of ignoring the ugly truths shielded by the beautiful lies. I already knew at first sight, so why pretend to be naive and ignore the cards on the table? Because I asked, my situation with Ruth didn’t hit hard as before. Yet, I underestimated how severe her instability was and that’s why I’d never thought it’d backfire that quickly. Did she intend on turning against me all along? Did she know what she was doing? Am I right to feel hurt and upset as I should? How fucked up was it that what we both suffered through were the very same things she ultimately used against me? Does she really hate me that much? Can I blame her? It may be her mental duress that already made her feel sick of me like the other men she’s been with, but what’s the difference? Sufferers do what they do with no apologies like non-sufferers do, just like Satanists need little or even no reason at all to go for the kill as much as non-Satanists who are as naturally heartless when they tell others to fuck off; compacting the sting of being suddenly tossed aside so quickly like an option while I’ve made them a priority.

My anxiety / depression drove its fangs deeper into my skin and almost right to the bone. The venom induces black spots, obscura, cataracts, and tinnitus. Illusions, juxtapositions, and reversed images. Everything made me lose focus on myself and the beauty in things I’m after. It’s scrambled the ideas that gave me value in myself and separate myself from the others. I couldn’t see and experience things others were enjoying because my mind was on overdrive, scrambling to find answers or imagining all the relentless regret, false constructs, failures, catch-22’s, contradictions, double standards, and fear of being left behind. My memory was failing on me because my mind was burnt out on fighting these intense obstacles that clouded my vision.

Anxiety / depression and BPD are such demons; always behind the controls to make one raging hot or on total shutdown. No matter how hard I shake them off, they never let go. Look around in this dystopian America I live in; the three-ring circus politics, the constant barrage of lies and defeatist news producing ubiquitous toxicity. The self-demoralization and -devaluation from friends, family, and co-workers. Social media, dating-site pitfalls, repetition re-enforcement, the quarantine and isolation have all lowered human emotional morale. I’ve come to realize that my lifetime threshold of tolerance for drama, rudeness, and being taken advantage of has way exceeded its limits. I’m sick and tired of being disappointed, mistreated, and broken. But as I learned dealing with mental illness, it’s out of my hands. There’s no end to it in sight. Not where I’m from.

I’ve seen a huge push for mental health awareness along with a growing urgency for it to be more inclusive and less ostracized in society’s eyes. Unlike my dad who used to attack everything that moved, I confided to my surviving family who listened with welcoming ears. Friends whom I can count on one hand stopped and took the time to listen to me unconditionally. Followers of mine opened themselves up to me about their emotional struggles and that support went both ways. Everyone else who saw me down on my luck picked me up with no judgment because I chose the right ones. (Save for my general manager who seemed concerned about my well-being but was really interested in how far I gotten with her.) Some of them warned me to issue common sense next time and to stop at red flags instead of speeding past them - doing so to see the good in people would certainly cost me later.

Knowing me, I would’ve kept going because she was more than I had: nothing. There are nights I still think of her and sympathize with her hellish struggles. We should’ve been supporting and sympathizing. Instead, we despise each other. We have our own reasons. I can’t ignore the fact that she acted spitefully. I’ve been hurt way too many times but she didn’t see it, and those effects still linger to this day. Sadly, in Long Island’s disposable world of dating and meeting people, it’s all or nothing. No in-between, no gray area, no negotiations. Once it’s over, it’s over. And after all that happened, I don’t regret meeting her. Not one bit.

* * * * * * * * * *

Every evening after my workout session, I sit by the lakeside for peace of mind and meditation. Come 6-7PM I’ll watch families, couples, and groups of friends stroll along the decks and sandy shorelines under the setting sun behind the trees. The bright yellow sunbeam streams are blocked by the trees surrounding the water all around as the horizon turns different dim shades of gray, orange, turquoise, and dark blue morphing by the goodbye sun; peeling back all shades of light to reveal the moon hanging overhead. A car full of young teens pull into the parking lot behind the lake with The Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights” blaring, the new Summer hit sensation. The daily treks through my neighborhood to the trails with an iPhone full of post-punk and d.i.y. grasping the aesthetic are over. I can never return. What a waste that I can’t enjoy myself in the very town that I live in, that is, unless I want to re-open new wounds and enjoy feeling sick to my stomach running into friends-turned-strangers who threw me away.

It's 2AM Monday morning. I’m in my own spacious backward sitting on the fresh cut grass away from the swimming pool. The full moon smiles down on me as it chases Saturn and Jupiter. Faint trails of clouds suspend themselves against the clear hazy milky skies. I hear the rushes of vehicles riding down the highway that’s 300 feet away from my home but the streams and perpetual frequencies of chirping crickets are closer proximity and priority. Charli XCX & Sky Ferreira’s “Cross You Out” and Grime’s “Violence” run burning hot and full of euphoric energy from my iPhone right to my head. In A Dramatic Gesture’s “Basic Aerobic” plays right after, a track that took me back to when I had more promise between us. But any time I think of how left-field The Mountain Goats sounded, it’ll remind me of her. I have forever quit them. Now those sounds are tainted by bad experiences, cruelties, and large pills hard to swallow. What a disgrace that it’s summer and there’s no one to share any moments with. No one to stay up with at night to talk about favorite music artists, the state of consciousness and well-being, or prying my mind wide open and say what I’m thinking or feeling - without repercussions or feeling demonized and vilified.

Who knows where she is or what she’s up to. Is she sleeping her precious daylight away? Did she find another guy to share her next drug journey with, or what sexual acts is he putting herself through? All I know is she’s having a winning Summer. I won’t.

Chasms: “Tears In The Morning Sun”

Zunz: “Four Women And Darkness”

Snarls: “What’s It Take”

Girl In Red: “Rushed Lovers”

DJ 3D: “How Many Ways” (Refreshers RMX)

Tops: “Seven Minutes”

Widowspeak: “Breadwinner”

Ripple: “Victorious”

Jade Imagine: “Big Old House”

Space Above: “Stolen Days”

Tempers: “Capital Pains”

Grimes & i_O: “Violence”

Weeknd, The: “Blinding Lights”

Charli XCX & Sky Ferreira: “Cross You Out”

RVG: “I Used To Love You”

Wye Oak: “Fortune”

Eddie Russ: “Zaius”

Progeny: “Wet Dreams”

Low Key Crush: “Shelter”

Cigarettes After Sex: “Young And Dumb”

Pink Gloves: “Wilderness”

Serfs, The: “Persona Non Grata”

Emma Ruth Rundle: “The Light Song”

Chvrches: “Forever”

Hit Parade, The: “Harvey”

Parrot Dream: “The Best”

Mr. Elevator: “Down”

Empathy Test: “Monsters”

In A Dramatic Gesture: “Basic Aerobic”

Masta Ace & Marco Polo ft. Smif N’ Wesson: “Breukelen Brooklyn”

Jade Imagine: “Remote Control”

Parlor Walls: “Lunchbox”

Look Blue Go Purple: “Grace”

Mountain Goats, The: various songs

#pop #folk #indie #synthpop #hip-hop #rap #psych #post-punk #d.i.y. #jazz #fusion #electronic #shoegaze #omega #Long Island #personal #mixtapes #music #reviews #playlists

[urdeadbestfriend]

the architect angel held the straight judah ranch / just a dirty mile down on the borderline / where he mastered blasting and hustled young cattle for slaughter / and dated judah's daughter / from the cellar ways to the attics and all across the plains / broke electric static of religious strain / and though he was never an addict, he wore scars on his veins / like a young girl holds her first pimp, he held his bible limp / from desert bars and church bazaars, the hungry slowly came / with vulgar faces from vulgar places looking for a game / well ivory gun handles and chamber grease and souped-up hydroplanes / the bullets burn from tv silver, bearing great cowboys names / now with 14 inches of gun barrel smoking from the lid / spurs on straight black boot heels, he said "they call me the brooklyn kid" / and in his lonely zenith nightmares, well that's just what they did / oh how he played out his scenes, loaded on benzedrine / well, his holster slung low like a hot kid sister tied tight to his leg like he gonna do / he was stomping the step he called the brooklyn twister, his six-guns were pumping through / his tongue hung low like sawdust scraping across the plains / he crawled outside the judah ranch and started calling the angel names / and now the architect angel stood, in one hand a staff, the other a gun / he held the staff high in the wind, the gun was like a piece in the sun / he started howling like a monsoon wind, drew fast, the job was done / at night the moon stretched tight light across the plains / as real cowboys sat around real campfire flames / and the county wold called as if to explain to his son / the way the west was won / the west was finally won

[woofieprint-clothing]

This must be Nicola Peltz's best mother-in-law cosplay to date!

Putting aside speculation about the previous mother-in-law conflict, Victoria Beckham and Nicola Peltz's relationship seems to have improved significantly. In addition to diligently appearing in Victoria Beckham's fashion shows, the billionaire also has many moves to support her mother-in-law. For example, the "cosplay" of Mrs. Becks herself when posing in Paris recently.

Notably, this is the same shirt Victoria Beckham wore in 2001, when he and Brooklyn (then 2 years old) came to the stadium to support David Beckham. She also paired the item with jeans and high heels

Wearing the same item, mixing with 1 recipe and walking with Brooklyn Beckham, the clash between Victoria Beckham and Nicola Peltz suddenly attracted attention from the world media. Becks herself excitedly shared the moment on Instagram. Harper's Bazaar also said that this is the daughter-in-law's way of warming up the atmosphere because in just a few days, Victoria Beckham's show, part of Paris Fashion Week will officially take place

Previously, Nicola Peltz also had many times (not determined to be accidental or intentional) to clash styles with Victoria Beckham. However, there has never been a time when she has made such a positive effect, even supported by her mother-in-law as this time

#woofieprint #shirt #hoodie #clothing

[internationalrealestatenews]

[ad_1] Competitors to grow to be Austin’s subsequent scorching neighborhood is all the time fierce, however in 2015, St. Elmo appeared prepared to grab the crown. About three miles south of Woman Hen Lake, St. Elmo was well-positioned between downtown Austin and the booming suburbs to the south. It blended cutesy previous houses with shabby-chic warehouses prepared for conversion into inventive places of work and breweries. By way of a mixture of improvement and conversions, builders noticed a technique to construct a vacation spot neighborhood on these sturdy bones.  The centerpiece could be St. Elmo Public Market. GroundFloor Improvement, together with companions together with Carlin Firm and Fenix International Investments, deliberate to construct a 42,000-square-foot bazaar at 4329 South Congress Avenue, modeled after Seattle’s Pike Place Market.  It promised to deliver an all-star lineup of native eating places to the center of a large mixed-use improvement with resort, workplace and residential house. It will be a catalyst, the kind of place that establishes a neighborhood and spurs much more improvement round it.  However after the builders introduced the market in 2015, they delayed it. Then they delayed it once more and once more. Between 2016 and 2019, furthermore, the principals of GroundFloor had been embroiled in a lawsuit accusing one another of wrongful termination and embezzlement, respectively. By 2019, all of the related events had settled, simply in time for the pandemic to throw markets right into a tailspin.  There comes a time in each gentrifying neighborhood’s life when it will get an arcade bar. (Williamsburg, Brooklyn opened a Barcade in 2004. Pilsen, a classy Chicago neighborhood, fought towards a Headquarters Beercade in 2021.) After eight years of hype, that point has come for St. Elmo.  Actual property funding agency SomeraRoad purchased the constructing final yr and leased it to a duckpin bowling bar.  Whereas not the neighborhood anchor that the general public market might have been, this bar is nonetheless a step ahead for the neighborhood’s retail and eating scene. It’s a part of a a lot bigger push by builders who've land banked and plans underway to lastly flip St. Elmo into a real live-work–play neighborhood, after practically a decade within the highlight. St. Elmo’s dominant improvement is the Yard. It’s a sprawling assortment of warehouses totaling 200,000 sq. toes of producing and retail house. The tenant combine leans bubbly: in a single strip, tenants embody the Austin Vineyard, Austin Cocktails, Blue Norther Exhausting Seltzer, Texas Saké Firm, Nonetheless Austin Whiskey and St. Elmo Brewing Firm.  Nonetheless, the Yard has loads of non-alcoholic tenants. Icon, the development expertise firm main the best way in 3D-printed houses, relies out of an enormous constructing there and operates a analysis and improvement unit there too. There’s additionally a health club, a espresso roaster and a flock of meals vans.  The Yard was developed by Veloway Threads, an organization based by Adam Zimmerman and Merrick and Scott Ungar. It's maybe the biggest proprietor of St. Elmo improvement websites. In January, the corporate introduced that it had bought fourteen properties within the space within the final yr.  Priscilla Sauceda, an operations government with the developer, stated it was drawn to the neighborhood’s flexibility and the “character and attraction” of the warehouses.  “We examine the final word imaginative and prescient to Wynwood in Miami,” Sauceda stated, referring to the colourful, mural-laden neighborhood recognized for its galleries and purchasing.  The corporate has not performed a lot ground-up residential improvement, and is essentially centered on industrial work. It might promote or deliver on a companion to develop some land it owns that's mixed-use residential, in keeping with Sauceda.  For all the event of the Yard, a lot of St. Elmo nonetheless feels industrial, not warehouse-chic. 

“There’s been a bit of little bit of a stutter-start feeling, for those who ask the common individual in regards to the space,” Sauceda stated. “There are some individuals who nonetheless don’t know what a part of city that is in.” However Veloway Threads expects that to alter quickly. The corporate plans to complete out its imaginative and prescient for the neighborhood inside the subsequent 5 years.  One of many greatest tasks set to alter that id is the Bergstrom Spur Path, which can pedestrianize 6.5 miles of former railroad connecting South Congress Avenue to Austin Bergstrom Airport.  A stretch of that path will run immediately alongside the north finish of St. Elmo close to Industrial Boulevard, significantly bettering the walkability and improvement worth of a stretch of warehouses owned by Connecticut and Austin-based Leifer Properties.  “It has the bones to be a walkable neighborhood,” stated Max Leifer, a principal on the agency. “We like that it type of has confined geographic borders, and might’t actually sprawl out.” In contrast to different neighborhoods in Austin which have constantly sprawled, St. Elmo is penned in by Freeway 290, Interstate 35 and South Congress Avenue, encouraging builders to construct up slightly than out.  As Austin grows, some metropolis officers and activists are pushing for larger density, to blended success. With citywide reforms slowed down in course of, builders have moved to implement a few of those self same urbanist ideas on a neighborhood-by-neighborhood foundation. These tasks, just like the Area in north Austin, have highlighted a extra scattered strategy to density. “Town has grown a lot that not everyone needs to go all the best way into downtown anymore,” Sauceda stated. “So how can we create these hubs and little pockets elsewhere within the metropolis that cater to the oldsters which might be positioned nearer to these areas?” Leifer is within the technique of securing rezonings for warehouses it owns at 300-440 Industrial Boulevard and 560-600 Industrial Boulevard. It plans mixed-use developments with as much as 1,000 residences, retail house and places of work, Leifer stated. On the identical time, Redcar Properties is working to attain a mixed-use rezoning for a small purchasing middle it owns at 4201 South Congress Avenue.  Exterior of some notable house buildings, a lot of the housing within the St. Elmo space is single-family indifferent houses.  That's altering, albeit slower than some envisioned. Bishop Momo, United Properties’ multifamily improvement at 4341 South Congress Avenue, will deliver 274 residences to the neighborhood when it’s completed later this yr. It joins a handful of different house buildings on the South Congress aspect of the neighborhood, together with 44 South and Congress Lofts. “The neighborhood was virtually constructed on what would have been the general public market,” Leifer stated, noting it’s one of many causes his agency began shopping for there. Regardless of the lack of that venture, he nonetheless sees modifications coming.  “In only one or two years, the neighborhood goes to be solely totally different.” Learn extra [ad_2] Supply hyperlink

[carmenvicinanza]

Sylvia Palacios Whitman

I breathe in the space and then deliver the work. The artwork speaks by itself so I can do it everywhere.

Sylvia Palacios Whitman, pioniera della performance art nella New York degli anni ’70, ha fatto parte di un gruppo di artiste militanti che provavano a rompere i vincoli fisici e sociali del corpo femminile attraverso il movimento. 

Affrontando temi politici come la memoria, l’identità, la decolonizzazione, ha esplorato le complessità delle relazioni interpersonali e le dinamiche di potere, utilizzando il suo corpo come materiale espressivo per opere che intersecano danza, performance e teatro.

Nata a Osorno, Cile, il 25 agosto 1941, ha studiato pittura e scultura all’Università di Santiago. Negli anni Sessanta si è trasferita a New York, dove è entrata a far parte della vivace scena artistica e lavorato con artisti del calibro di Richard Avedon, in quel periodo un suo ritratto è apparso sulla copertina di Harper’s Bazaar.

Si è esibita con Trisha Brown al Whitney Museum of American Art nel 1970 e messo in scena spettacoli in luoghi di New York come il Kitchen, Artists Space e la Sonnabend Gallery.

Nei primi anni Settanta ha iniziato a creare le sue performance, ospitate negli studi e loft di diversi artisti, che utilizzando oggetti di scena surreali e disegni giganti su carta, creava un teatro visivo capace di combinare la ricca sensibilità pittorica latinoamericana con il minimalismo della scena newyorkese. Sotto il titolo onnicomprensivo di Going ha presentato opere con azioni fisiche audaci con potenti immagini che utilizzavano un linguaggio semplice e assieme surreale.

Tessitrice di sogni che utilizzava abiti di carta, spesso poi gettati via dopo l’azione, creava un circo minimale che proponeva minuscole macchine di coscienza.

Una sua performance passata alla storia è stata Green Hands, in cui, munita di enormi mani  a prolungamento delle sue, ha attraversato il ponte di Brooklyn, provando a coinvolgere le persone più disparate che avevano ogni tipo di reazione. L’ha ripetuta poi, in diversi altri contesti, anche in tempi più recenti.Dalla metà degli anni Ottanta è stata praticamente dimenticata, fino al 2013 quando il Whitney Museum le ha reso omaggio con la mostra Rituals of Rented Island: Object Theater, Loft Performance and the New Psychodrama-Manhattan, 1970-1980, composta da opere su carta, fotografie e video delle sue performance, oggetti di scena e i taccuini originali. Ha anche eseguito dal vivo alcuni dei suoi pezzi distintivi come Passing Through (1977) e Coppa e coda (1978).Le idee per le sue esibizioni di solito provengono da schizzi di un’immaginazione dallo spirito libero, intimi iniziatori mentali per messe in scena. Alcuni disegni avanzano in giganteschi oggetti di scena che dominano il palco.Ha esposto al Museum of Modern Art di Varsavia, al MoMA e al Guggenheim Museum di New York, alla Tate Modern Gallery di Londra e fatto parte della mostra collettiva sulle artiste femministe latino americane dal titolo Radical Women: Latin American Art, 1960–85 esposta a Los Angeles e a New York.Sylvia Palacios Whitman continua ancora a realizzare dipinti e collage, condividendo la sensibilità surreale delle sue performance.Il suo lavoro visivo e sempre politico presenta molteplici strati di grafite, strutture dirompenti, architettura in disintegrazione e talvolta movimenti a spirale intersecati da frammenti fotografici, oggetti e pezzi di collage.

#unadonnalgiorno #sylvia palacios whitman #performance