toughen up little soldier

the veins and pancreas of pop-culture


Out of the way Bitches, it's Festival Season. Wellies, anyone?

Kesha is here. This chick has sass. She's a whole lot of summer fun, like, who doesn't wanna get fucked up with her? I read in some article it was like asking oh do you know Kesha? Yah, they said, she threw up in my closet once. Sweet. Not a bad voice too, and she's super cute and Id do her:D

Also today (number 2) I had a sudden longing, no a need, a necessary desire to own a pair of Jimmy Choo Hunter Boots. It's partly cause Kate Moss has been rocking them at every outdoor music festival for the past 6 years and partly because they are the best thing Ive ever seen. Fashion and comfort, and tell me what would go better with short shorts and a summery bandeau wrap around your titties while youre screaming your ass off in the front row of a late august night to the sound of The Joel Plaskett Emergency and Slowcoaster and Grand Theft Bus (cause that't what Ill be doing in 2 months time suckahs) ? I ask you. Nothing, That's what. And so, they must be mine!! But for now, since I'm sorta saving money for my European adventures, I might have to settle for a knock off walmart-y type. I'll survive. I'm frugal right?

Wrong. I tried to be frugal this week and dye my own hair a nice shade of brown with blondie highlights, I had a picture from Teen Vogue and everything. After leaving 2 hair salons crying because they said my hair was waaayyy too long/dark to dye anything other than black or red (and they were very mean to me and said I had highlights when I clearly didn't it's just cause I tan outside a lot and that tends to happen and they were saying it in spanish because they thought I didn't understand but Ha! I could understand it a bit because I went to mexico last year.. but yah) So I went out and bought ... List: 2 hair bleaching kits, 2 boxes of nice n easy "medium blond" dye, one do-it-yourself box of highlights. I ended up looking like a "curved yellow fruit".. so I cried and made an appointment at the hairdresser's! which I never do because my aunt cuts my hair for free (Like every 2 years) (I have really long hair) and I only knew the number by heart cause the chick there does really good waxing but anywaysssssssssss. Now I'm kind of ginger with blondie streaks and it's actually kind of nice and I'm happy. That.. is the story.... with that...  :)


Onto the Wild Road

I have a top 5 list of movies and a top 5 list of books that I've collected and polished and made available at the front of my brain for anyone cool enough to come to me and ask me what my top 5 favorite books or movies are. Today in english class my second least faovirte teacher ever, Bitch Black, (and no, she's not black like Lewis wanted to know.. it's her stupid name) showed our class my third favorite movie, which is, drumroll, Into the Wild, based of course, on the book by John Krakeur that I wasn't a fan of.
It's about a lot of things. Chrsitopher McCandless, this college graduate, also known as hotnlovelysexy Emile Hirsch, burns all his cash, abandoms everything and sets out to find a different way of living that doesn't involve materialistic things things things. So he wanders around the U S of A, finding really cool people, calling himself Alexander Supertramp, of course. And all the while, all these wonderfully perfectly directed adventures are being soundtracked by one of the best albums I've ever heard, I even bought the album before the actual movie, by Eddie Vedder from Pearl Jam. It's about a lot of things. It's about adventure, freedom, wanderlust, but most of all, truth.  "Rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness... give me truth." 
 Two years he walks the earth.
No phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. Ultimate freedom. An extremist. An aesthetic voyager whose home is the road. Escaped from Atlanta. Thou shalt not return, 'cause "the West is the best." And now after two rambling years comes the final and greatest adventure. The climactic battle to kill the false being within and victoriously conclude the spiritual pilgrimage. Ten days and nights of freight trains and hitchhiking bring him to the Great White North. No longer to be poisoned by civilization he flees, and walks alone upon the land to become lost in the wild.
— Alexander Supertramp
   May 1992
(btw carmine, this is how you legally put a quote in a blog, mmk?) 
Other than that, I'm getting another tattoo right, to go alone with my back's eternal sunshine.This newbie comes from one of mine, and Christopher McCandless's favorite books, On the Road, by Jack Kerouac. About a bunch of beat-nik do-no-good young people driving around the country, looking for money drugs sex and a fun fun time. The tattoo will say 'never yawn' and comes from one of my faovirte quotes of all time that I picked from the book as soon as I read it and repeated it to anybody who would listen, before I even know it was famou(I should add for my street cred) McCandless took a lot of inspiration from this book and I plan to do the same, except I won't die in the forest I promise. I don't even like moose.
They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"


I Blame Coco for Bohemian Love

Here is the next big thing. Well maybe not, considering her debut album has been out for almost two years and still, you can't purchase her shit on i-tunes. Fuck that. I used to hate when cool music when all mainstream and the kiddies got their handsies on it but now that Im older and the wiser and all that, i realise that if you really appreciate a band and respect their music then you should feel proud when they start making money and getting their music heard. I want the world to hear Coco. Who do I blame for her dismissal? Gaga, for one. nothing against gaga, like, power to the strange but.. There's just so much shitty music out there right now its saturating the 'stream' and making it impossible for anyone with legit talent to cram their way in!

Who is she? Coco Sumner is the daughter of Sting, the policeman. her band is I blame Coco and she's the sickest shit Ive seen in many a days of wandering youtube in search of dirty beings who grunge the guitar properly. Her completly unique voice and style are enough alone to captivate you, and her perfect face keeps you watching. She has this video out right, where she dances around, does hip things and people film it and put one of her less than thought provoking songs with it. Of course, they can't pick something like humner humner that blows up your ovaries on the hook. No, that wouldn't attract the attention of the wandering kiddies. But they were wrong. Those producers and contract hotshots that fought over her music genius when she was just 15, who would own her, who would sell her, who would market her as Sting's daughter better. Nobody won.
I'm in graphic art's class by the way, in case you were wondering. I get a lot of work done in here. A lot of hard, dedicated work. And today, I'm inspired by Carmine's long run-on sentences and rambling that makes complete hippie hippie shakin sense. If you havn't checked out her blog yet, please do. Imma put a link in here later, or on my page on the side. She's right aesthetic and her balance of color, graphics, words and.. eerything. She's a real artist.

Back 2 Coco. She stands up there, right, being all cool in her black and her rips and her layers of boho favorites.. singing like a goddess off her rocker, resonating the soul of dead people from the 60's and alive people from a dirty city. Pete Doherty even entrusted her with his love song to Kate Moss, that goes something like.. Boheemiann Looove. here it is, enjoy. I'm done rambling. I'm not done with you.  Loove, Lori.