Mazzy Star, Halah
it felt like you were in a Bruce Springsteen song
all images are copyright of Joe Maloney, who said, "“it felt like you were inside a Bruce Springsteen song" on being on the Jersey Shore during the late seventies and early eighties. captured below are carnival rides on the boardwalk, bikini-clad teenagers, and landscapes brimming with saturated hues and glowing lights.
Blue Fence (1980)
Casino (1980)
Girl in Cab (1980)
Reaching (1980)
Stocky (1980)
Sugar Ray Empress Match (1980)
Tall Couple (1980)
Girl With Stuffed Animals (1980)
Two Girls (1980)
Palace Amusements (1980)
---
Monday, September 30, 2013
12:29 AM
in five hours and eight minutes, an alarm will tell me to wake up. as if i have not spent the past eight hours trying to drift into the arms of unwelcoming sleep.
the hum of the podcast presenter began to bore me at 10:30 PM. i paused his voice, hoping sleep would accept me soon. after two futile hours of meditatively counting sheep, i opened up my beckoning laptop.
there is something to be said about surfing the internet when the rest of the world is asleep. a certain serene stillness attaches itself to every webpage, making reading articles with the quotation "plants have souls" in the title seem natural, visiting Facebook profiles of the deceased perfectly normal, and cyber-stalking best friends from elementary school acceptable.
why, in these hours in which i beg my body to slip into a state of unconsciousness, does this internet behavior feel somewhat necessary? perhaps my subconscious mind needs these confirmations of death or change of once-called friends to answer some of life's pressing questions that nag at my fragile consciousness.
in this state i wonder the following:
12:29 AM
in five hours and eight minutes, an alarm will tell me to wake up. as if i have not spent the past eight hours trying to drift into the arms of unwelcoming sleep.
the hum of the podcast presenter began to bore me at 10:30 PM. i paused his voice, hoping sleep would accept me soon. after two futile hours of meditatively counting sheep, i opened up my beckoning laptop.
there is something to be said about surfing the internet when the rest of the world is asleep. a certain serene stillness attaches itself to every webpage, making reading articles with the quotation "plants have souls" in the title seem natural, visiting Facebook profiles of the deceased perfectly normal, and cyber-stalking best friends from elementary school acceptable.
why, in these hours in which i beg my body to slip into a state of unconsciousness, does this internet behavior feel somewhat necessary? perhaps my subconscious mind needs these confirmations of death or change of once-called friends to answer some of life's pressing questions that nag at my fragile consciousness.
in this state i wonder the following:
- which is worse: the beloved dead or the once-loved alive, continuing to exist without you in their life?
- is everyone growing up except me?
- am i the only one who can't tell the difference between a National Geographic article and one from The Onion?
- how do people even fall asleep anymore?
- are enough people listening to Sea Oleena?
Sea Oleena, Untitled
where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?
Simon & Garfunkel, Mrs. Robinson
"my childhood was elegant homes, tree-lined streets, the milkman, building backyard forts, droning airplanes, blue skies, picket fences, green grass, cherry trees. middle America as it's supposed to be. but on the cherry tree there's this pitch oozing out - some black, some yellow, and millions of red ants crawling all over it. i discovered that if one looks a little closer at this beautiful world, there are always red ants underneath. because i grew up in a perfect world, other things were a contrast." - David Lynch
i find 60's to 70's suburban life in Middle America deeply fascinating - a time of stars and stripes, apple pie, and clothes hanging to dry in the backyard. but underneath it all: a dark underbelly of poverty, racism, and the feeling that all of this illusion of safety, serenity, and wholesomeness was slipping through one's fingers.
patriotism and school spirit: collage by Camille Klein, unknown
schoolin' life: both unknown
girly innocence: ad for Prince's Controversy LP, Life magazine cover photo by Nina Leen
gossip girls: unknown, Trip Fontaine rules the school (and hearts) in The Virgin Suicides
lovey dovey teen romance: collage by Mariano Peccinetti, photo from Internet K-Hole, Bobby Briggs of Twin Peaks making out
anti-racism, anti-war demonstration in 1967
cover art of Yo La Tengo's 'And then nothing turned itself inside-out'
finally: my apologies for not uploading in ages. i don't really have an excuse. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
-
Hope
by Langston Hughes
he rose up on his dying bed
and asked for fish.
his wife looked it up in her dream book
and played it.
and asked for fish.
his wife looked it up in her dream book
and played it.
all rainbows and smiles
the wedding of Paul McCartney and Linda Eastman
the wedding of Roman Polanksi and Sharon Tate
i have four recent obsessions: the Zodiac serial killer, the concept of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl stock character (scan from my visual diary to come soon), conflicted heroes, and weddings.
my love for weddings has never really come from a desire to be married or in a serious relationship but just to have a day where i have an excuse to throw a really great party and wear lovely clothes so that all my invited friends and family can spend the duration of a two hour reception celebrating what a wonderful person i am. then, me, myself, and i would happily jump onto an airplane for a relaxing honeymoon for one.
if you're wondering where the videos of the above weddings come in, it's my interest in conflicted heroes. the husbands in both cases have or eventually will have their name tarnished over the years - by racism or sexual perversion - but on their wedding day, with their newly wedded wives looking at them longingly, can we forgive them? can all the other good they've done allow us to ignore the bad stuff? can this work with mere mortals? can it work with me?
six-eyed temptress
both unknown
Jeanne Goupil in Mais ne nous délivrez pas du mal
Butterflies by Salvador Dalí, unknown
Sofia Coppola by Corinne Day
from The Virgin Suicides
unknown
Post-Apartheid Dance: Many Bodies, Many Voices, Many Stories by
Sharon Friedman
Thurston Moore
Catherine Wagener and Jeanne Goupil in Mais ne nous délivrez pas du mal
Vivian Girls, I Heard You Say
(note: the candle lighting, tapestry print dresses, and general girl gang aesthetic)
join my coven
two unknowns, Naomi Campbell for Perry Ellis, Oluchi Onweagba for Helmut Lang
Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice
plum lips: two unknowns, from Nichts Als Luxus by Michel Comte for German Vogue
from Scotland: The Castle of Park in Glenluce by Juergen Teller (1997)
a modern day teenage witch typically has underdeveloped abilities and uses tarot cards and palm reading as the outlet for her powers. that being said, it would be a foolish decision to ever underestimate them. get their style:
and then like the entire A/W'11 collection Alexa Chung did with Madewell (*grabby hands*)
haunt me
June's vibes are hippie/swamp fairy/witch with central colours being forest green and plum (I NEVER WANT TO SEE ORANGE AGAIN).
mood = misty, bitter, damp, moonsoon, haunting, eerie
Laura + Donna
oh David Lynch, you almighty god of aesthetics
sipping on the sweet nectar by cunimimi
by Brion Nuda Rosch, the fairies of Cottingley
Crystalised by sseaghosts
Château d’Aunoy by Helmut Newton (1978), unknown
Devon Aoki in The Wood Tale by Juergen Teller (1998), unknown
from Modern Primitives series by Ellen Rodgers
The Dead Bird by Margaret Wise Brown (1958)
(L-R:) Naomi Campbell, Karen Elson, Shalom Harlow, and Kirsten Owen by Peter Lindbergh
(yearbook photo of the coven club)
Karen Beth, Something to Believe In
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)