4evr young.


days of solstice

some days exist to remind you of the power of transformation. when we think of transformation we think a lot of the time it has to be a self-guided and created process, which is why it is all the more surprising to find that at times transformation lies in wait for you outside of yourself, and something far greater in scale snatches you up and shows you what you need to know, changes you forever without your permission. sometimes you are saved in the nick of time. you can let it change you. you can relinquish control to things outside of yourself, and let everything happen to you.

yesterday i left my house in the afternoon to try to brush aside the fog that had settled over my thoughts, maybe walking away the desolate and empty feeling i had from recent troubles i'd been fighting mightily to conquer and was failing miserably to control. the sky was darkening as i locked the front door and the trees were rustling restlessly. in a daze i slowly walked to the grocery store, feeling aimless and destroyed. on my familiar route back home with my bag of bananas, the wind had kicked up, and as i reached my house, the clouds had begun spitting rain. i passed by my house, realizing i didn't want to go inside back to my dark mood. instead i just walked north, nowhere particular to go in mind. the rain had begun streaming down and the streets emptied as the streetlights blinked on. it was as dark as night, and a wildness descended from above, lightning and thunder cracking and booming the ground like an echo chamber. i walked for a mile, passing only a few passengers struggling with umbrellas and hurrying home in the storm, my hair beginning to stream with rain. i walked unhurriedly down the now unfamiliar streets, really feeling the storm, as if the universe were staging an epic demonstration of the wild chaos i'd been harboring recently. it felt very much like quietly walking inside of myself, in awe. a feeling of intense joy had begun to overtake me as i passed the grounds of a beautiful, old Gothic high school. i went to the sprawling open lawn and let the sheets of rain tear at me as i removed my shoes and just stood in that moment, not thinking of anything but feeling grateful for all the beauty of being there alone in this massiveness, this electricity, the darkness and chaos, this synergy between myself and everything else suddenly becoming clear, my loneliness dissipating . eventually i found myself compelled to walk to the beach and go to the water. the storm quieted, then grew more ferocious as i stumbled, soaked from head to toe, onto the sand. on the beach, with no cover of trees or buildings, the enormous sky opening up for miles and beyond to the gray, shifting horizon, i could see the clouds of electricity passing over my head, lit with pink and green flashes. abandoning my things on the concrete breakers, i walked to the water, which was strangely still and undisturbed, and while thunder crashed and electricity raged all around me, i swam for the first time in lake michigan.

later i sat on the sand as the emergency alarms began sounding off, one at a time, all down the lakeshore. i remembered that there had been tornadoes yesterday, but for the first time in as long as i could remember, i was unafraid.


summer storms

in the midst of turbulence and trouble, so much of it seeming senseless, incomprehensible, i remember, i am humbled.

cross your hands at your heart and accept all with grace.



Dolores Del Rio, shot by Slim Aarons (1952)

today will be great.


do-it-yourself hot yoga:

it helps if you already don't have air conditioning in your apartment. if you do, turn it off like 6 hours before you're planning on doing your hot yoga. make sure it's a blazing hot, airless day. now close all your windows. when you're leaving little pools of perspiration where your body parts meet tables and chairs, you know it's hot enough for hot yoga. lay out your mat. put in your hot yoga exercise tape. feel very very hot after one asana. decide to fuck it and make a margarita instead with all of the ice cubes in your freezer. drink your margarita lying down on your yoga mat.


girls of summer

(from here.)

Who else is bringing back colored barrettes, needlework blouses, and drinking slightly warm, canned beer in a parking lot?maybe a little Skynard playing in the background?

Cybil in the Last Picture Show

Pleated shorts never looked so good.

Bustier halter tops, winged eyeliner, red lipstick, and a deep seated desire to be the baaaaaaad girl for once? Are you writing this down?

or you could go the Heavy Metal Parking Lot route, keep it casual and opt for ratted-out hair, DC 101 shirts(202 represent!), full-length leopard catsuits, and public inebriation . . .

Extra Credit:

Dennis Hopper was a photographer. I especially like the photos he took of women in the 1960's; it always looks like it's summer and brings to mind the thing Raymond Chandler once wrote:

There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husband's necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.




See more of his work here.



World, meet LA PUTA MADRE, my new set of wheels.

Specs for the bike nerds:
Vintage (late 1970s) Fuji cro-moly frame with custom paint job
New headset and bars with rubber grips
Velocity flip flop hub
Weinmann quick release wheels
Snafu printed saddle

Many photos of me awkwardly riding P.M. to come. That's a promise.


Part of an ongoing series, fuckkkkkkkkkked. Hang out with me this summer, be a part.



You know the parlor trick.
Wrap your arms around your own body
and from the back it looks like
someone is embracing you,
her hands grasping your shirt,
her fingernails teasing your neck.

From the front it is another story,
You never looked so alone,
your crossed elbows and screwy grin.
You could be waiting for a tailor
to fit you for a straightjacket,
one that would hold you really tight.
-Billy Collins



Lina Scheynius


David Hockney, A Bigger Splash, 1967

summer again

R. Stevie Moore, 1977

get yourself a nice sweet ice tea. everyone just chill out everything will be cool here in the kiddie pool.