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my closed-eye adventures have been bursting with vivid life and technicolor-sensation

 

whipping chords

Whether on or off the grid, Fiona Apple permeates the cracks and breaks ((sound)) barriers with her haunting musical brilliance. We all know that seductive voice. Its smokey tones of grey that crawl out of the speaker and with its snakiest, slow billow, lingers around you with such a resonanace that you swear you can hear the gutted exhales from the fragile ghosts of which it came. We all know the videos. Faces of many but really only one anyone truly cares about. It doesn't matter what she's doing, she does it all with those tell|tale eyes bounding you in their stare for days. She is an artistic, human wonder; Ever-so-frail, hypnotizingly strong, and most importantly and inspirationally, always surmounting the business/public/media/etc with steadfast loyalty to her self.

I have been waiting for the arrival of her new work Idler Wheel (The Idler Wheel is wiser than the Driver of the Screw and Whipping Cords will serve you more than Ropes will ever do), set to be released in mid-June, taking in refreshing bits of nourishment via a few of the dripping internet information faucets. Then I stumbled upon this article in W with a striking photo of Fiona cloaked in Repunzle threads and a dreamy embroidered Valentino top. 

Here are both. Take a couple bites:

http://www.wmagazine.com/celebrities/2012/06/fiona-apple-new-album-the-idler-...

 

 

The Sensuous

"The animate earth – this moody terrain that we experience differently in anger and in joy, in grief and in love – is both the soil in which all our sciences are rooted and the rich humus into which their results ultimately return, whether as nutrients or as poisons. Our spontaneous experience of the world, charged with subjective, emotional, and intuitive content, remains the vital and dark ground of all our objectivity."

t show you what was inside but it was even sweeter #valentines #imaluckylady

Wallpaper --Sri Yantra

Happy ((Belated)) Birthday Week, Dolly!

Stop and Smell The Roses

Everything is coming out roses. Or it can if you want it to. Newly filling the air of the world beauty market is a Perfume Candy that will give your taste-buds extra sweet internal attention, while your externals attract and receive the same. Inspired by ongoing oral fixations with floral-flavored confections, addictions to that which can perform double-duty, olfactive affairs with the timeless scent of the geranium flower (a Victorian-era obsession), and modern perfume's most notorious confidant: the rose. And more specifically, the scent of the rose, the Bulgarian company Deo created a candy that will (post-consumption) leave you smelling like a walk in the garden. How does this all work? The candy contains the ingredient Gerniol, a chemical that after ingestion, and most importantly, the lack of digestion, emits itself (and in this case in a blossoming, aromatic sort of way) out of your pores. I admit I am tempted to try it. Who doesn't to eat their candy and smell like it too?! 

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the days of our mastadon/dillinger escape plan/red fang tour-lives are presently trickling out of their swollen ampoules through slimming glass necks, pouring the past straight into the future. 

and while there will be plenty merriment to salt the last two days with, i can't help but be sprinkled with a little sadness.

Schulz

My mind today -and in recent days flocking behind me- 

has been fixated on and simultaneously carried away

by the words of the Polish writer Bruno Schulz.

Schulz was an artist, painter and illustrator whose work combined an evocative, poetic 

mix of autobiographical and fantastical elements bursting with life and imagination even in the dampened, lifeless grayness of the shadows and the typically mundane. 

“Can you understand,' asked my father, 'the deep meaning of that weakness, that passion for colored tissue, for papier-mache, for distemper, for oakum and sawdust? This is,' he continued with a pained smile, 'the proof of our love for matter as such, for its fluffiness or porosity, for its unique mystical consistency. Demiurge, that great master and artist, made matter invisible, made it disappear under the surface of life. We, on the contrary, love its creaking, its resistance, its clumsiness. We like to see behind each gesture, behind each move, its inertia, its heavy effort, its bearlike awkwardness.” 

I have officially fallen prey to the entrancement of his brood, 

still lingering in precious printed nests and digital dens.

(if you've grown acquiescent you will continue on behind these words)

Schulz

My mind today -and in recent days flocking behind me- 

has been fixated on and simultaneously carried away

by the words of the Polish writer Bruno Schulz.

Schulz was an artist, painter and illustrator whose work combined an evocative, poetic 

mix of autobiographical and fantastical elements bursting with life and imagination even in the dampened, 

lifeless grayness of the shadows and the typically mundane. 

"As we manipulate everyday words, we forget that they are fragments of ancient and eternal stories, that we are building our houses with broken pieces of sculptures and ruined statues of gods as the barbarians did. "

I have officially fallen prey to the entrancement of his brood, 

still lingering in precious printed nests and digital dens.

“Can you understand,' asked my father, 'the deep meaning of that weakness, that passion for colored tissue, for papier-mache, for distemper, for oakum and sawdust? This is,' he continued with a pained smile, 'the proof of our love for matter as such, for its fluffiness or porosity, for its unique mystical consistency. Demiurge, that great master and artist, made matter invisible, made it disappear under the surface of life. We, on the contrary, love its creaking, its resistance, its clumsiness. 

We like to see behind each gesture, behind each move, its inertia, its heavy effort, its bearlike awkwardness.” 

_________

(if you've grown acquiescent you will continue on behind these words)

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While today is a good day to be thankful and celebrate the blessings in your life with the sharing of an autumnal feast of warm delights, tradition and love, be sure to pay your respects and remember the falsehoods tied to the actual inception of this 'holiday'. Take a minute to remember those who lost their lives and land pre the 1637 declaration of "Thanksgiving Day"; Who suffered at the hands of the pilgrims. There will be a time where this day becomes solely a day of gratitude and stops being intertwined with the myths of the union of the indigenous people of America and that of religious dissidents of England that moved in on their land, and took a lot of their 'blessings' away.