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Uh-Oh

When love consumes you, I mean really really gets to you. Seeps inside your pores and infiltrates your blood stream. When it's the space between each thought and the breath you hang on to drift to the next word in your sentence. When it's like that, it might as well be like this...

...like a deep sigh. Like, "Its just me and you kid."

(©2009 Lotus B.)

Random Thoughts of Kanye

THIS...

....Looks like a man who definitely has several creams and potions sitting on his dresser at home. He probably takes longer to get dressed than his hairless Barbie doll lady friend (who he has stuffed inside his attache case).

Kanye, I await the day when you finally come out of the closet and stop pretending you like women. You have way too much fashion sense to be straight.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

2010 Grammys: Video Killed the Radio Star

Of course, and as always...the fierce non-supporter of award shows that I am I didn't follow any of the Grammy coverage. Not the ACTUAL Grammy coverage. I mean...let me guess.. Beyonce cleaned up, Rihanna performed, some comedian hosted...someone kissed someone during a presenting speech...and more than a few people had to be "bleeped" out because their manufactured "edginess" was too much for the FCC. I'm sure if I take the 1998 Grammy's show and add an iPod, I've pretty much not missed a thing.

However, I DO (as always) follow the highlights that actually MATTER...the fashion. At least...it used to matter.

This year, as I browsed The YBF, People and (the bible) Women's Wear Daily, my eyes are silently bitch slapped with the birth of something that's been brewing for a few years now...

...REALLY FUGLY costumes.

Of course, I'd like to blame Beyonce like I usually do, but I have to hand this over to that musical strangeness herself, Lady Gaga. I admire her fashion balls, she is an innovator when it comes to her own image. She far surpassed the guts of any other pop star and often enters down-right-ugly when she appears in public just for shock's sake. She got the attention of her audience, that's for sure. I heard about her outfits before I ever heard a bar of her music. When I did hear it...I have to admit it was a little anticlimactic. Yes, her sound is awesome, fun and her lyrics (her's?) are original, but I mean...c'mon, she clearly takes her "sound" ques from Madonna.

However, I digress. This year the chosen duds reminded me less of Grammy worthy stage clothes and more of...well...the 1992 Winter Olympics. It's obviously a "I can top her" game. The half baldies, the Ferdinand piercings, the tattooed fingers, the 9-inch heels, the latex vaginal infection pants, the endless amounts of glitter...it all vomits into these media hyped events. It's a circus. There's less interesting things coming out of these women's mouths every year. The music? Who even cares anymore? I wouldn't even bash the fits, if it weren't for the fact that music has become a paint by numbers game, at least if you want a Grammy. More creativity goes into the "scandalous" outfits these lady's choose to wear (or should I say "bare") instead of their craft. I'm sorry but, "Single Ladies" isn't exactly speaking to a generation... Ahhh well....that's the Pop game for you. I guess we'll all just have to settle for mediocre borrowed creativity and underfed "role models" prancing around in drag queen outfits that could feed a small country.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

19 Days to Implode

So it's been an interesting week. The tic-tocking of my own imagination making the moment slow to a crawl. I've been trying to get some "packing" done...or at least some thorough throwing away(ing?)... This is usually my favorite part of moving. An excuse to traipse through my taped-up boxes and flip through old journals. I read an entry from my 99-03 journal about the day I met Valentine. Fittingly, the very next entry (a week later) was about our first argument. Old photos, old birthday cards, old notes I used to pass back and forth with Hoody in science class. Neatly packed again, shipped again, unpacked again.

I'm beginning to hope this time will be the last of the moves. The nomad is reformed. She seeks a place to lay her shit, let the dust settle around it and create grooves on the floor. She's said this before...but maybe it's within reach now.

(©2009 Lotus B.)