Possibly Pathological

July 3, 2009

I had to trek into stupid Chadstone (shopping centre) this morning to get my laptop looked at by an Apple “genius”, who told me what I already knew, which is that it needs to be repaired (the screen has been playing up). They also told me there is a two to three week turnaround which is less than ideal since I do everything on this machine work-wise.

Getting up at my version of the crack of dawn (7:30am) to take a tram and a bus into the “fashion capital” wasn’t all crap however, since I got to window shop a little, at a time when there weren’t too many gross people around.  Does anyone else feel like their entire lives could be different when they walk through a homewares store?  I browsed through about five of these bizarre havens of whiteness- and I mean white, literally and figuratively, and was simultaneously freaked out and seduced into thinking stuff like: “what my life really needs is a spatula with tiny porcelain sparrows attached to its end”.

Even more scary than the homeware shops, was when I told one of the shop assistants that I had just moved and I was looking to decorate my place entirely in different shades of green.  This is patently untrue in every respect, and as soon as it came out I wondered why the hell I said it.  It was then that I realised I actually do that a lot when I’m shopping: if I’m forced to make small talk with shop assistants, chances are I’ll make stuff up, either to get them to leave me alone, or if they’re nice, to be polite.  This shopping induced lying may have begun with the “what postcode do you live in” question that mall shop assistants love to throw at you.  I pretty much always provide a random 4 digit number starting with a 3, because I object to the fact that someone wants to know, but I don’t want to be rude.   Even though it would just be easier to give them my real postcode, particularly when I look like an idiot if I’m unable to clarify what suburb the top-of-the-head postcode is connected to.

Somehow that has morphed into fake backstories for myself.  I want to state here that I don’t plan it, it just happens.  In fact until this morning, I didn’t even notice I did it.  Past imaginary reasons for browsing or buying things include: “I need to buy a gift for the lesbian lover I don’t have, because we had an argument” (that I was a fake lesbian was crucial to the lie you see), “this would be perfect for my non-existent younger sister”, and even “I can’t buy anything made of tin because I’m allergic to iron-alloys”.  I’m not even sure if the last one is a logical statement to make, but I believe I said it in order to fend off the pushiest shop assistant in the history of pushy shop assistants.  It was also clear to both of us that I was lying since I had touched numerous objects made of tin before I said it.

When it comes down to it though, it’s pretty difficult to rationalise this odd one-sided parody of social niceties I’ve apparently been enacting for ages.  Now I’ve just got to decide if I should purge it out of my system or embrace it.

Also, I’ll be giving up my laptop this Sunday, so I wouldn’t bother emailing/facebooking me for the next couple of weeks.


Vision

June 24, 2009

I have a love for talent based reality tv shows.  The ones where even though the audience seemingly gets the opportunity to see the artistic working process, the show in fact just enhances its mysticism.  Project Runway and Top Chef do this for me. Contestants are given ridiculous parameters and tight schedules, and more than the drama of stress induced squabbling, the best parts of these shows are when you’re wowed by some contestant’s ingenuity and talent.

I bring it up because the more I watch the now many incarnations of Project Runway (Canada is awesome, yo) the more problems I have with the judging process, which increasingly pretends that it can be an objective and quantifiable process.  Perhaps this is a result of having to edit possibly lengthy conversations about deserving winners/losers into short soundbites that make it sound like the judges have a consensus, and thereby convince the audience that their decision is ultimately the right one, however, I still find listening to them irritatingly condescending and disgustingly predictable.

My beef with almost all Project Runway judges is that they like to pretend that a unique, creative vision (someone able to “push the boundaries” and pave the way for the future of fashion) is tantamount, behaving as if commercial, approachable fashion is unimportant, while consistently touting sellability/wearability as king.  Generally this plays out by endlessly praising (albeit) talented designers who have worked with/or who are inspired by Vivienne Westwood, Alexander Mcqueenesque figures, but often awarding challenge wins to those who have the most commercial appeal, and throwing out contestants who dare to be different, but who are not sufficiently and obviously avant-garde.

I’m a huge, huge fan of Westwood and her ilk, but there are also so many different sorts of interesting designers out there who produce amazing things that are not immediately apparent or comprehensible, and do not announce this loudly. If we’re looking at the big names, then Prada comes to mind. She is consistently lauded as being at the forefront of fashion, but I’d argue not only does she have a much quieter design aesthetic than Westwood, but her shows, and her ideas I think are often very anti-fashion.  Prada’s “cool” comes from a true nonchalance that eschews the necessity to be beautiful, alluring or attractive.  A few seasons ago Prada styled a show with an intense dowdiness; all the models were clothed in ill fitting, oversized clothes, in if memory serves, unflattering and strangely fake looking tan leather.  The ubiquitous peasant skirt that was hugely popular a few years before that was a descendant of a Prada show skirt that in its original incarnation, dare I say it, was not avant-garde, nor wearable or flattering.

My argument is therefore this: I don’t always expect wearability from a designer, and I don’t expect this fact to have to be announced to me with a lot of fanfare and frou frou styling.  While I believe that some designers are “artists”, I’m also aware that their success is still based on their commercial viability.  However, particularly in a show context, wearability shouldn’t have to be presented by those who create it. Which to some degree is what happens in the real industry: a (deliberately) unwearable idea gets played with by other designers, by the original designer or design house, by the high street, by the consumers, by the magazines. It’s why I love fashion so much, you get presented with these amazing creations, and you get to play around with them, perhaps in a watered down, mutated, often bastardized form- but you get to play.  What other art form is as available to its admirers than fashion?

Which is why as much as I love Project Runway, I find listening to the judging process irritating.  1) Ugliness, even dowdiness has its place in fashion: stop throwing out contestants because they’ve produced an unflattering looking pant that everyone ends up wearing in six months time.  Fashion loves unflattering silouhettes, why are we pretending otherwise? 2) Fashion forward doesn’t have to automatically equal Westwood, please let’s move on.   3) Also let’s not pretend that fashion is not grounded by commericial concerns if you can’t stop talking about it. On a separate, but related note: I wish designers would stop crying plagarism- all designers are plagarists so they should stop being all hoity toity about the high street. If the design has hit the high street, it’s pretty likely it has already been devalued anyway, so it’s a bit of a moot point.  You only need a d-list celeb to wear a hot dress before a trend dies in the arse, so I really don’t think the high street is entirely to blame.  The high street store, for better or worse, is now just as important to the evolution of the trend cycle as the almighty Lagerfeld himself, deal with it.


The Bubble

June 9, 2009

Spending time on the internet often gives me a false impression of what the world thinks.  Or at least it gives me a false impression of what is considered normal, and popular etc. since it obsesses over niche-y things as if they are of fantastic importance to everyone.  Sometimes internet hype trickles into “mainstream” media coverage, although I’d argue often only as a means of commenting on the apparent strangeness of internet behaviour.  Even when that is not the case, the only people who really seem to care are the ones who were enthusiastic/interested in whatever it was in the first place.  This point is often hammered home to me when I start talking about something I think everyone knows about and they just stare at me blankly.

The problem I have is I pretty much get everything, news etc. from the internet due the fact I don’t own a tv, I have inconvenient working hours, and I’m currently in the middle of a feud with the closest newsagent; so I’m completely oblivious to tv and newspaper stuff.  When people start talking about Masterchef I have no idea what they’re talking about, but I do know stupid shit about some couple with eight kids who may or may not be cheating on each other, while pimping out said kids for a reality tv program in the States.  No wonder my sense of the world is so warped.  Add to that the fact that I spend much of my day speaking another language (very badly), and I feel like I’m living in a bizarre little bubble where I occasionally shout things at people (twitter).

Actually, all my internet stuff, blog included makes me feel like an oddity, as if friends read this and my twitter as part of some quaint little exercise: “Oh, let’s see how little Jennifer is going these days” even though sometimes it seems like the only way to let them know I’m still alive.  Plus I went through a stage where I wouldn’t look at my phone for days on end (I’m sorry guys! I’ve stopped doing that now!), which didn’t help the bubble sitch at all.  I was just looking at stuff I posted last year (which wasn’t much), and remembering how much more human interaction I was getting.  Conclusion: I’m dying here! I need some mental stimulation in the form of real human contact and conversation.  A lot of you have been visiting me, and I love you all for it, but like, do it more often!  Sohi totally wins at this. Bella, you are the worst- even more so since you got that crappy phone and don’t text me ridiculous things as often.

I actually intended to write a post about fashion blogs and how they have warped my sense of what is normal to wear in public, but somehow I got sidetracked and ended up in bubble-land.  You’ll have to make do. That is all.


Gatherers

May 26, 2009

Sohi and I live on different planets.  If I were to try and explain our relationship, it would be that we think in completely opposite ways, yet we usually end up in the same place.  Which is probably (now that I think about it) opposite to how me and Bel work, which is that we think in a similar fashion, but end up in different places.

In the case of Sohi and me, we are bonded by extreme bouts of abstracted and arbitrary snobbishness, excessive arrogance, a palpable disgust of vulgarity, and an absurd love of cuteness (what constitutes ‘cute’ is a confusing and ever changing set of characteristics based on random variables in Jen-Sohi land).  However, since we tend to think quite differently about things, we have a habit of arguing over everything.  Which is actually quite nice.  We argue without heat or animosity, and with absolute respect since we both believe in the equality of our awesomeness in all things.

I didn’t think I ever really needed to think about why we work so well together, but on Sunday I think I inadvertently discovered what strange magic has kept us together since highschool, and why if anything it has become so much stronger.  The answer is: grocery shopping.

Last week Sohi and I made plans to go to Naturally on High, which is our version of an exciting date.  We were so excited we actually sent each other text messages letting the other know how happy we were about this trip. On Sunday, not only did we go nuts at said shop, but when we made plans to meet up later in the evening… we actually ended up going to both Coles AND Safeway.  As in, when Sohi called and asked “so what should we do?”, one of the suggestions that came up was “we could go to the supermarket”, and the reply was an extremely enthusiastic “Yes!”  When we used to live a block away from each other, it wasn’t unheard of for us to the start at the Japanese grocery, move on to Prahran market, then perhaps Aldi, another general Asian grocery, Coles and then finally Safeway.  That is not an exaggeration, we have done that. More than once, and it made us really happy.

So Sunday night as we were leaving Safeway I mused “why do you think we love grocery shopping so much?”, and Sohi gave the simplest, most revealing answer: “It’s comforting, and safe. We’re gathering our nuts and seeds.” The last bit is actually quite literal in our case, since this is the basis of our obsession with Naturally on High.  This is exactly why we love grocery shopping so much, in the presence of each other in particular.  The act of buying domestic things is at heart for us, a nurturing act, for others as much as ourselves.  We’re not soft or maternal at all, but our identities are very much founded on being nurturers for the very few people we deem worthy of our love and affection.  This potential act of nurturing is absolutely a comforting and safe way of letting these parts of ourselves out.


Be nice to your mothers!

May 8, 2009

Yun and I were talking recently on the phone about her relationship with her oldest daughter Mia (who is 5) and how she hopes that when Mia is Yun’s age, she’ll still want Yun around as much as Yun still craves the presence of our mother. The good sister that I am, I was reassuring: ‘don’t see why not, we’ve always had a good relationship with our mum’ etc., to which my sister replied “but I’m not our mother!”  Which is about as truthful a statement as you’ll ever get about our family.  We will never be our mother.

Our mum is the archetypal nurturing mother, yet she also manages not to smother.  She is, almost perfect.  And she is so bloody cute it is sickening.  Everyone who has met my mum tells me she is cute.  Everyone.  The people at my gym who met her ONCE, told me they had an entire conversation about how cute my mum is.  The woman is crazy, but damn it, she IS cute which is why she can get away with shit like this:

Tuesday: I call my mum to suggest awesome things we can do together for mother’s day.  I get rejected by my dad who lies and tells me mum is unavailable to talk, but that they already have plans for Sunday.

Wednesday: The lie comes out.  I suggest new plans for Sunday that would significantly lighten my wallet.  My mum says ok.

Thursday: My mum calls me and tells me to forget my plans, and that I should use the money I was planning for Sunday to buy her a nice gift!

Today (Friday): My mum tells me I should forget both plans + gifts and just give her cash. She’ll treat herself.  Which is basically what I tell my mum every year for my birthday.  She thinks she is being really funny.  She is also serious.  We talk for five minutes about how much money would be appropriate for me to give her, given my previous plans.

She can do these things though because my mother is fucking awesome.  She’s so awesome I’m always getting caught giving her kisses- it’s actually starting to get a little embarrasing.  I’m 25 and whenever I’m with her she makes me feel little, in that really nice “I’m being tucked in” way.  No one makes me feel more loved than my mother, and for that she deserves every cent I’ll ever earn in my entire lifetime and then some.


I love him so much

April 21, 2009

Karl Lagerfeld may be an unapologetic anorexic narcissist, who employs a nanny for his million ipods, but the man is also undoubtedly a genius, and I love him.  I want him to live forever so every generation from now on can enjoy him.  His responses to women asking for fashion advice in Harpers Bazaar has made my shitty week almost bearable (yes, I’m aware it’s only Tuesday).  His answers are so fucking good; he’s almost a parody of himself, and yet it’s that which is so effectively scorns the women who have dared ask him a question (or who are passively asking for his approval).  Example:

“Please, your question is childish. Don’t drink when you wear stilettos. I can’t advise you to get drunk at home to find out if you would be able to walk in them at a party.”

That is the genius of Lagerfeld: he may at times be a caricature, the poster boy for everything that is ridiculous, excessive and frivolous in fashion, but he manages to subvert this every single time, because what makes him such an amazing designer is his abilty to spot bullshit, to intelligently be able assess what’s in front of him.  Then he lambasts it with the appropriate level of scorn or admiration.


It’s not a euphemism for weed

April 17, 2009

Previously:

Jen: yay!! Our last Sunday by the way was INSPIRED. we should totally go again. cos we need to do “research” for our future mixologist careers
Hayley: it was quite possibly the BEST DAY EVER. i am absolutely behind monthly visits
Hayley: or even fortnightly, because my liver doesn’t deserve kindness
Jen: !! wallet may need help though
Jen: also, more vegan nuggets
Hayley: perhaps on the weeks we can’t afford cocktails, we can just have more vegan nuggets instead
Jen: yes! absofuckinglutely. actually admit slightly: vegan nuggets > cocktails. sometimes
Hayley: the vegan nuggets are epic, it is true
Jen: we are too fixated on vegan nuggets. which is reason #3000 why i love you
Hayley: people who don’t fixate on any variety of nuggets is clearly deranged
Jen: yes, I guess that is true
Jen: I’m in love w nuggets
Hayley : I won’t judge you for nugget-love
Hayley: if you ever decide to marry a nugget i will support you against prejudice
Jen: thanks, that’s much appreciated. believe me
Hayley: people-food marriages must be promoted and cherished. i see it as my life’s purpose. at leaast until i get bored
Jen: or until you need some action

Tuesday Night

Hayley: we meet again, madam!
Jen: Hayley my darling, I’m bored. also I blogged!
Jen: Yay!
Hayley: YOU DID! OH MY GOD! *halts looking for twitter userpic and rushes to jenblog*
Jen: no, no- really boring. Keep looking for twitter pics!
Hayley: can you see my msn user icons? i can show you what i am considering for my twitpic
Jen: yes- currently you are TOP GEAR
Hayley: that i am. specially ‘james makes adorable snorting laughter face’ top gear
Jen: so… I’m waiting!!
Hayley: okay – so i want to go with ‘hayleysass’ as my username, so i thought i might evoke some classiness
Jen: … god
Jen: I’m fearful
Hayley: so we have louise brooks
Hayley: looking pensive and thoughtful and sexypants
Jen: ooh.
Hayley: or…
Hayley: norma shearer, in a particular dazzling photo that knocks my socks off and i want to look at it forever
Jen: crap the latter one comes up too small for me to really appreciate
Jen: plus I have to admit, I’m partial to louise brooks
Hayley: i know, it’s really at its best big, but still good
Hayley: or, we can just get to the crux of what makes me me, and go with something like this…
Jen: !!!!!!!
Jen: that is hard
Hayley: it is joyous, i know
Jen: COLBERT
Jen: wait, LOUISE
Jen: COLBERT
Hayley: i have other colberts, but this one might be the best
Jen: COLBERT
Jen: I’m just going to type that over and over now
Hayley: ooo i forgot i had this one!
Jen: wait, what does that say?
Hayley: that was a favourite last year
Hayley: ‘you’re on notice’
Jen: ah. um… first one
Jen: ok, dude, am reading my blog right now- including ‘cast of players’, ‘intro’ etc. WHY IS MY BLOG SO EMBARRASSING
Hayley: it isn’t!
Jen: IT IS
Hayley: IT’S NOT YOU MOLL
Jen: Seriously, my face is red
Jen: hahaha
Hayley: it probably only needs updating cos it’s like A YEAR OLD, but other than that your blog is perfectly fine
Jen: argh. is cos is not your blog!
Jen: anyhow- new topic!
Hayley: pants?
Jen: ? er, yes, what about them?
Hayley: ….it’s just what i randomly revert to whenever anyone suggests a segway?
Jen: ah- you do do that don’t you? wonder what that says about you…
Hayley: i like pants? then again, often if something is crap i refer to it as ‘pants’. i have ambivalent attitudes towards pants?
Jen: hmmm. maybe. OR MAYBE YOU ARE OBSESSED W GETTING INTO PEOPLE’S PANTS
Jen: just maybe
Jen: so- what did you do tonight?
Hayley: ummm i ate vegan nuggets. and discovered that i really should buy two boxes in order to sate my longing for nuggets. one was not enough!
Jen: and REALLY not enough if you’re sharing w me! which means next time- we have to get FOUR BOXES
Hayley: i like this plan. i like it a lot
Jen: yes, me too- why have we been so restrained so far?!
Jen: is mystery to me
Hayley: we were not yet prepared to admit that we wanted to stuff overselves with nuggets in case the other was not so keen?
Jen: hmmm. maybe. Or we didn’t want to appear greedy- so we pretended that sharing was fine- and what we were having was just enough, when in reality we were both like- MINE! so instead of getting more… we were just dumb
Hayley: or far too polite. i fully recommend next time – NUGGETPALOOZA
Jen: have you noticed how many of our conversations have revolved around nuggets lately. perhaps nuggets really SHOULD replace men
Hayley: one day you’re going to look back on all these saved transcripts and go ‘holy shit, all me and hayley’s convos were about nuggets’. and i find the thought of it all being saved for posterity utterly hilar
Jen: I also love how you say hilar. it is hilar. transcripts will be good for that also
Hayley: i am laughing uncontrollable as we type. trufax!
Hayley: i stole hilar from a friend of mine. don’t tell!
Jen: ok, I won’t!
Jen: am talking to another dude at the mo- can’t seem to get off topic of romance novels. possibly my fault
Hayley: i am tempted to bring you nuggets on thursday as a party gift
Jen: YES! except there might possibly be so much food that it would be a waste. possibly.
Hayley: ….perhaps you should introduce the topic of nuggets
Hayley: okay, i put myself into a laughing conniption fit writing that. nuggets are officially completely hilarious
Jen: people are now going to wonder why you are constantly giggling at the word “nugget”, and then I will giggle w you!
Hayley: it’s the word alone that does it!
Jen: nugget nugget nugget nugget
Hayley: oh my god………*falls off chair laughing*
Jen: you are SO silly. love you
Jen: this is the funnest conversation ever. backward and repetitive. it’s like we’re retarded
Hayley: it’s mainly my fault. you keep trying to introduce interesting topics and I’m all…NUGGET!
Jen: ! it’s because nuggets are awesome Hayley. I thought we established this! I am now actually giggling uncontrollably
Hayley: i am actually in danger of waking up family members i have been laughing so damn hard
Jen: ahahahaha
Hayley: right, we clearly need a segway – PANTS!
Jen: that is NO BETTER DUDE
Hayley: sexy men who are not wearing pants?
Hayley: oh god i have problems
Jen: SO MANY PROBLEMS
Hayley: but unfortunately no problems involving sexy men with no pants. my life is desolation!
Jen: I admit, I also would like such a problem
Hayley: it would make daily life a lot more exciting
Hayley: quick! bring on some ridiculousness! calvalcades of sexy men with no pants…CARRYING NUGGETS!
Jen: OH MY GOD.
Jen: too much!
Hayley: it’s an image almost too marvellous to even imagine, let alone behold in reality
Jen: OK! next time you fall in love, you must demand your boy to present nuggets to you naked ALL THE TIME
Hayley: this sounds like a plan…a SEXY plan!
Hayley: and a clear dealbreaker. no nuggets, out on your ear, boy!
Jen: who would say no to nuggets though, SERIOUSLY
Jen: and still, we are on same topic
Hayley: perhaps if i ate them all and he got none. this is the most likely scenario
Jen: well, yes that would pose a potential problem methinks. he’d have to be pretty generous
Jen: we’re STILL ON NUGGETS. HAS BEEN ONE HOUR DUDE
Hayley: NUGGETS ARE AWESOME, WHY ARE YOU COMPLAINING WOMAN GOD
Jen: sorry. was AMAZEMENT.
Jen: actually, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised
Hayley: because we are sad food hounds with one track minds (on food)?
Jen: or, ever sadder- we are using nuggets as lame replacements for what we really want? Although don’t know what that would be. GAH.
Hayley: nuggets are not a replacement! nuggets are clearly SUPERIOR!
Jen: hahahahahhaahahah. love NUGGETS
Jen: or, ew “love nuggets”
Hayley: they are always there for us! they are pure beings who only bring us joy and comfort. HAIL, NUGGETS!
Jen: HAIL NUGGETS, HAYLEY, ALL HAIL NUGGETS. Am tempted to like, bow
Hayley: we should make a nugget shrine
Hayley: or that might be going just a tad too far
Jen: made of nuggets?!
Hayley: OBVIOUSLY
Jen: not if we can eat it!
Hayley: jen, on behalf on this conversation i would like to say, i love you
Jen: I LOVE YOU!… and nuggets
Jen: we are so lame, how can we find this SO FUNNY
Hayley: because it’s AWESOME!
Jen: can’t breathe from laughing too hard
Hayley: i think i’m going to be permantly red in the face from all my stifled laughter
Jen: none of mine is stifled, believe me!
Jen: it’s actually starting to hurt
Jen: deep breath, I think I might be calming down now. maybe
Hayley: as you should be……………………….

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………NUUGETS!
Jen: damn, now I’m really really hungry. like really hungry
Hayley: oh god that typo is almost just as hilar
Jen: hee! I didn’t even notice that at first!
Hayley: come, let us devour a brace of nuugets!
Jen: how is that even funnier?!
Jen: NUUGETS
Jen: nougets?
Jen: wondering how much lamer/awesomer we can get now
Hayley: nougettes! french for NUGGETS
Jen: ahaha. ahahhaha. do another one!
Hayley: i can’t…i fell off my chair
Jen: god, laughing is making me even more hungry for nuggets
Hayley: they were seriously delicious today. direct out of the fryer!
Jen: dude! that’s mean!!!!
Jen: when are we going to nugget next?!
Hayley: well if i wander into the city on thursday we could have them for luncheon
Hayley: there was meant to be an ‘early’ in there
Jen: hmmm, maybe. although I don’t think I can thursday- will have a group upstairs that are hanging around until 5…
Hayley: boo. well i could bring you some, but then it might interfere with dinnerings
Jen: hmmm. we’ve been talking about nuggets so long… JUST BRING THEM
Hayley: I WILL!
Jen: OK!
Hayley: YAY!
Hayley: WE’VE BEEN SPEAKING FOR AN HOUR AND 15 MINUTES ABOUT NUGGETS
Jen: woot
Hayley: we are awesome
Jen: YES WE ARE
Jen: so awesome. nugget awesome
Hayley: nugget
Jen: stop it!
Hayley: wny is this so funny?
Jen: I don’t know!
Hayley: help!
Jen: I can’t, still. laughing. and SO HUNGRY FOR NUGGETS
Hayley: aaaaahhhhhh nooooooooo!
Jen: I’m, as you would say, devo
Hayley: i love that word
Jen: I also, now love it. Do you know I’m now currently talking about nuggets w other dude?
Hayley: OH MY GOD. are you mentioning that we are both retarded at all?
Jen: um, no- just going on and on about my nugget hunger
Jen: which is making me laugh even more
Hayley: i think you should lower the tone. put on your capslocks, and type out – NUGGETS.
Jen: NO!
Jen: He will think me even more insane!
Hayley: holy crap, joan fontaine is still alive! (sorry, i’m trawling wikipedia for old skool stars)
Jen: as you do.
Jen: who else!?
Hayley: who else is alive? so who have i been looking at?
Jen: looking at
Hayley: umm norma shearer, rosalind russell, claudette colbert, carole landis (ohh my lord saddest life story ever), carole lombard (why don’t stars ever learn that boarding a plane is never a good idea?!)
Jen: dunno, dude, dunno. but then… what about drug overdoses. they don’t learn about those either…
Hayley: foolish folk!
Jen: alright, now have finally stopped giggling- am totally drained and exhausted. and still hungry for nuggets damn it
Hayley: but your face will not explode from laughter, so good?
Jen: yes, I guess so.
Hayley: i’m starting to think that our msn convos are pure genius
Jen: it’s bc they ARE
Hayley: we should publish them, to gift the world with our wit and ridiculousness
Jen: oh god. we will be committed
Hayley: but we will live on in infamy!
Jen: hmmmm. doubtful. you are still high from nuggets
Hayley: this is true
Jen: yes, you are completely untrustworthy right now. I shouldn’t listen to anything to say
Hayley: freemasons run the country!
Jen: not proving my theory incorrect, by the way
Hayley: clearly
Jen: sigh. have your giggles gone now?
Hayley: yes. although when my eyes slip down to stephen in the corner there it kind of starts up again. DON’T MENTION NUGGETS, I WILL SLIP OVER THE EDGE…OF MY SEAT….AGAIN
Jen: ok, so I won’t… maybe
Hayley: oh god now i will be wary of unexpected!nuggets from here on in
Jen: ahaha
Jen: beware
Jen: I wield so much power with this laptop…
Hayley: OH NOES
Jen: tell me other stuff.
Jen: non crispy goodness related stuff
Hayley: not involving nuggets?
Jen: YES NUGGETS
Jen: NUUGETS
Hayley: NOUGETTES (awww haw haw!)
Jen: you know, I totally tried to be restrained, and not use that… and then you did it! I love you
Hayley: i’m going to send you text messages from now on. they will be secret text messages that could come at any time. and there contents will only contain: NOUGETTES
Jen: hahaha. NO. you will waste all your credit doing so!
Jen: you won’t be able to stop!
Hayley: it will be hard. i will attempt self-control. i will only succumb when the call of nougette love is too strong
Jen: well, ok then. I guess everyone wins
Hayley: yay!
Hayley Inch: are you still talking about nuggets with whatshisname?
Jen: no, now we’re talking about Korean food. Is not quite as interesting as nuggets.
Hayley: you should drop some crazy shit in there to spice things up. you can steal my ‘there have been no great comedies made since anchorman: FACT’ flamethrower topic if you like
Jen: it would be a little strange in teh middle of korean food talk
Hayley: all the more exciting!
Hayley: did you know that james stewart was a brigadier general in the air force reserve? THE MORE YOU KNOW
Jen: SERIOUSLY? He is so awesome.. more awesome
Hayley: he is possibly the most awesome of all awesome
Hayley: apart from gregory peck. OH YES, I WENT THERE
Hayley: stewart could also play the accordion
Hayley: he was also an assistant to a professional magician. JAMES STEWART, YOU ARE TERMINALLY AWESOME
Jen: oh, god, I forgot your accordian addiction
Hayley: i love accordions. almost as much as i love harpsichords
Jen: you love so many random things. I love… trying to think of something random, and failing. can only think of things everyone loves. pillows. sleep, nuggets…
Hayley: I should have been born 90 years ago. jimmy stewart would have loved me. i would have let him play acordion all the time. and then would have insisted on him introducing me to gregory peck and things probably would have gone bad from there….
Jen: oh, so bad
Jen: SO BAD.
Hayley: unfortunate….but ultimately not for me!
Hayley: i really should stop fantasising about actors that are dead…and were at least 80 years older than me anyway
Jen: Don’t stop! I do it all the time
Hayley: *going to the bathroom*
Jen: NO!
Jen: stay you bitch!
Hayley: i need to wee!
Jen: fine, fine, go
Hayley: wee has been released!
Jen: awesome
Hayley: you are awesome. have a present
Jen: it is nuggets?!
Hayley: it’s JON STEWART’S NUGGET PARTY!
Jen: YES! AWESOME!
Hayley: he’s so happy….about nuggets
Jen: oh, my god, he’s so SO HAPPY. am totally giggling now
Hayley: man maybe this should be my twitpic…it’s pretty boss
Jen: that’s true, but you have always loved colbert more right?
Hayley: that is also true. BUT LOOKIT THAT FACE!
Jen: ahaha
Jen: ?Dude, where did you go?!
Hayley : i’m here?
Jen: oh. nuggets, dude, nuggets.
Hayley: nuuggggggggeeetttttts
Hayley: tiny morsels of vegany goooooolllllddd (i think we should branch out into a musical)
Hayley: i’m sorry, it’s a disease!
Jen: it is! it is! It can be solved w more nuggets though
Hayley: everything can be solved with nuggets
Hayley: can you please promise me that you’ll send me a transcript of this? because this is the best conversation i’ve ever had ever
Jen: oh absolutely- dude how else can we relive this awesomeness
Hayley: yeeeeesssssssss
Jen: dude, I love you so much. what you doing at the moment anyhow? Did you join twitter?
Hayley: i’m just kind of sitting her listening to music. should probably go to bed
Jen: yeah, I’m sorry I’ve kept you so long. if you need to go, go! xoxoxoxoxoxo Can’t wait until I see you Thursday
Hayley: thursday, yes! i will be there, with all various bells on. and i shall be weilding…
Hayley: ….wait for it….
Hayley: NUGGETS!
Jen: whoo hoo! dude, love you, see you then xoxoxoxo
Hayley: byeeeeeeee! xoxoxo

ugly is the new pretty

April 14, 2009

Friends know that if something is truly ugly and hideous, I have to consider having it.  I keep wondering where this reflex comes from, considering that I’m also offended by things that I find to be aesthetically displeasing.  Which made me realise my aesthetic IS “ugly”- or rather the “anti-pretty”.  The trouble with this aesthetic tendency though, is that sometimes even I can’t decide what it is I like.  From a fashion stand point, the anti-pretty is many ways the foundation of “good fashion”- or at the very least, good styling.  It would be why I would argue most people don’t “get” fashion.  To be fashionable is also to some extent to be exclusive, and to remain exclusive you have to confound the philistines.  If a Herve Leger dress is all the rage one month, the very reason it is no longer loved the following month, is because everyone else is “getting it”.  It’s an aesthetic game that gets played out in every kind of contemporary artform- and as stupid as it seems intellectually, it seems to be an involuntary reaction that occurs on a massive scale: who understands how trends work anyhow?  Is it simply over exposure that engenders this falling out of love?  Or is it something else entirely?  What is it about ubiquity and commonness that some of us find so offensive?

I seem to take the whole thing to a new level though- I am drawn to the “anti pretty”, but I’m so drawn, that anything that offends me has to be taken into consideration.  i.e. Is it good because it’s slightly offensive, or am I just offended?  Hence why I own so many randomly ugly, awful things.  Things that are just ugly, but which I couldn’t decifer if they were “good ugly”.

This also follows on into areas like books, music, film.  I’m automatically suspicious of anything that is too pretty, or too easy to like.  I have somewhat gotten over this recently- but it still lurks, rearing it’s head when I come across something beautiful.  It doesn’t mean I won’t eventually come around to prettiness and beauty, but it takes longer for me to attune to it.  The exceptions to this are things that are blatantly obvious about their ‘empty’ intentions, and sometimes, things with nostalgic resonance.  I find “trashy” things easy to accept because I think, perhaps falsley that I don’t have to question their agenda.  Or it could be that excessive commericialisation is within itself an open ugliness that clearly I find sufficiently offensive to be intrigued by.  Faux ugliness however, such as films that employ “gritty realism” with a filtered lens is also an inverse prettiness I don’t trust.  So basically, the problem I have is having too many internal aesthetic rules to even understand what I like/don’t like.  Who buys things because they hate them?  Or, hates things because they’re nice?  It’s a disorder, and I need help.


Seriously, who reads NME?

December 22, 2008

In regards to the questions of ‘cool’ (lame), underground, “it was so much better in ____” nostalgia etc., I find myself inevitably drawn to anything that either glorifies or spits in the face of such indulgence.  On the internet particularly, I unthinkingly bookmark sites/articles/videos that delve into this theme in some way- for what I don’t know, I just do it.  As dumb as it is, for whatever reason it’s a topic that I’m continually fascinated by- maybe because I find myself somewhat baffled that people still believe so fervently in being “alternative”, in a kind of individualism that is an illusory and mastabatory pasttime.  And maybe because even though I hate to admit it, I’m equally suspectible to such (metaphorical) masturbation.

At the moment this theme has been caught once again by hipsterism, rockism whatever you want to call it.  Is it just me, or is music a catergory that is more prone, (and more desperate) to hold onto the ideal of the underground, the alternative etc. than other forms of popular art?  This article (from 2004) uses the Ashlee Simpson lip synching incident to lampoon the “rockism” tendencies of music critics, but it too misses the point for me.  Among other things it spends way too much time talking about how critics are unable to let go of ‘rock n’ roll’ as an idealised music genre that they are unable to embrace pop music without prejudice.  This is not only wrong fundamentally (seriously, has the writer never heard of any number of obscure musical genres that music critics love to have pissing matches over these days?), but the writer misses the point of why rock n’ roll ONCE held such a revered place- it is not that critics love rock n roll to the exclusion of all other genres of music- they’re not going around talking about the shallowness and cultural emptiness of jazz or fucking Phillip Glass.  They’re not even railing against all pop music- aren’t critics always undergoing a kind of revisionism, constantly returning to eras past and reclaiming past pop hits as classics?

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again- the underground, the alternative, the counter culture, “hipsterism”, “rockism” only hold value against a perceived mainstream, whether it exists or not.  The writer of the NY Times article by clumsily trying to define “rockism” can’t seem to grasp that so called “rockists” (big snort- because frankly as much is it may hold water for different reasons, it is also a myth) by definition cannot embrace pop music, without a sly reference to it being a so called “guilty pleasure”.  Because try as such a mythical creature might, they cannot enjoy music unselfconsciously.   Or perhaps, this is the only point that the writer does truly understand:

But as more than one online ranter has discovered, it’s easier to complain about rockism than it is to get rid of it. You literally can’t fight rockism, because the language of righteous struggle is the language of rockism itself. You can argue that the shape-shifting feminist hip-pop of Ms. Aguilera is every bit as radical as the punk rock of the 1970’s (and it is), but then you haven’t challenged any of the old rockist questions (starting with: Who’s more radical?), you’ve just scribbled in some new answers.

The challenge isn’t merely to replace the old list of Great Rock Albums with a new list of Great Pop Songs – although that would, at the very least, be a nice change of pace. It’s to find a way to think about a fluid musical world where it’s impossible to separate classics from guilty pleasures. The challenge is to acknowledge that music videos and reality shows and glamorous layouts can be as interesting – and as influential – as an old-fashioned album.

In the end, the problem with rockism isn’t that it’s wrong: all critics are wrong sometimes, and some critics (now doesn’t seem like the right time to name names) are wrong almost all the time. The problem with rockism is that it seems increasingly far removed from the way most people actually listen to music.

The other frustrating part of the NY Times article is how much it concentrates on music critics et al as encouraging such a phenomenon.  For one thing, this is not a recent development- the genre of rock n roll- the power it holds, and once held, and the reason why the writer is using the genre an example in the first place is because of what is meant symbolically when it first appeared- what is that, if not “rockism”???  Furthermore, the writer completely bypasses how deeply complicit commercialism is in maintaining such an underground vs mainstream structure.  Who benefits most from perpetuating myths of individualism, etc than capitalism?  Isn’t this stuff like 101 advertising or something?  I dunno, if it’s not it should be damnnit.  Finally the conclusion to the article is so lame- it’s one of those “can’t we just all love each other?” type endings, except… about Ciara  i.e. can’t we just like Ciara without shame?  Whatever, NY Times article.

Elitist pretentiousness annoys me, yes it does- but it if came down to a fist fight between that and well, let’s say my oldest sister’s taste in music (it is so awful, every insult intended) because as lame as the first one is, it still implies a level of adventouressness, a desire to challenge yourself and not just listen to what is most accessible.  This has everything to do with that willingness, and nothing to do with what pop music has to offer, because frankly there is nothing “wrong” with pop music, and there is nothing wrong with accessibility.  Accessibility is available in pretty much most musical genres, it is not that which is offensive- I think aurally “pop music” (as broad and as general as that genre is) suffers the most because it is the most available- it saturates and saturates until it unbearable to listen to.  I liked Rihanna’s Umbrella initially- for about a week, until I thought I would rather stab myself in the ear than have to listen to it ever again.  For anyone who becomes obsessed with music, or with anything, it’s natural to want to broaden the horizons, to not listen/experience the same thing over and over.  There’s a reason why in first year uni I fell alseep through two viewings of A bout de souffe, and why a couple of years later after watching so many more films Godard became so much more interesting to me, and I was so much more willing to watch films that actually allowed distance, space and thought (and I’m not referring to a fucking “Oscar” film here).  Many of my friends have had to hear me rant about how much I DETESTED Matthew Barney’s Cremaster Cycle (I’ve only seen one and two, and that was enough for me at the time), I quite honestly wanted to claw my eyes out than watch one more second, but I’m really curious what my reaction to the films now would be.  Maybe the same, I don’t know.  I hated it so much I don’t know if I would ever be willing to try again.  The point is, there are also reasons for why pop music can be considered less palatable to some, but again that is a huge generalisation.  I still think, that if you like something, critic or no, you’re not going to say that you don’t on principle, on an outdated, dumb illusory ideal. Unless you’re lame that is.

Which brings us to NME.  This review of Coldplay’s latest album by NME is so bad it borders on parody, the fact that it gave the album an 8 out of 10 is besides the point- the review couldn’t just be “it’s good”, it had to reassert the underground/mainstream dichotomy before it could undercut it in a bizarre “Coldplay’s pretty good here, but not in the way that they want, so ha” move.  I am neither a Coldplay hater or lover, and I’ve only heard snippets of their latest album, so I have nothing to defend either way, but they interest me exactly because people want to hate them so much, merely for being palatable under the moniker of a “rock band”.  The first paragraph includes this gem:

The Edge-aping guitar desertscape bit on ‘Fix You’ and on this, their fourth studio album, they develop full Bono Bombast Syndrome. Sheesh, what next? Can we expect Chris Martin to grow wrap-around shades and lose four feet from his height by Christmas?

Wow, BURN.  It just gets worse:

They probably thought ‘Lovers In Japan’, a jaunty piano rollock drenched in enough ‘Joshua Tree’ reverb to demolish Red Rocks, was a searing sonic battle between Echo & The Bunnymen, The Cocteau Twins and A Place To Bury Strangers. They yearn to be recast as outsiders violently opposed to the mainstream hegemony but can’t see that by dint of their incessant knack for a stadium-sized chorus they’re so deeply entrenched in the mainstream that they’re our men on the inside, making the most offensive indie racket palatable to the masses with a sprinkle of their melodic fairy dust.

Case in point: when they say they’ve been influenced by My Bloody Valentine and point to the guitar screes and hazy, unintelligible vocals of ‘Chinese Sleep Chant’, they fail to realise the angelic hooklines they’ve couched within the noisefest make the song as mainstream as ‘Umbrella’.

The first time I skimmed the review I honestly thought it must have been written by a 16 year old.  It smacked of unoriginality: insulting Coldplay (easy targets), overworked U2 comparisons (they’re the U2 that are old irrelevant and purveyors of middle of the road ’stadium rock’), overworked Radiohead comparisons (they’ll never be Radiohead as hard as they may try- while taking a lame swipe at Radiohead… is the reviewer an inverse “rockist??!!  Or is this a mutant strain of “rockism” that forms the basis for most hipsters??) and continual referals to “the mainstream” and Coldplay’s supposed desperation to be anything but.  Reading it again, it seems a slightly more measured review, a little less teenager, for whom ideas of “mainstreamity” seem more offensive than they truly are.  But it still unconsciously places stock in the ideal of the underground, emphasising that Coldplay, no matter what it wants to be, by virtue of being, jeez likeable will always be a little to accessible to be “underground”.  It’s just… such a DATED idea without somehow acknowleding the pitfalls of such a position, it seems wrong for it to be used so un-critically, even though it is couched in terms of “Coldplay’s” desire for alternative acceptance, the fact of which is only liminally beliveable in the first place.  How desperate is Coldplay, one of the most successful bands and well recognised musical acts in the world for this mythical underground’s approval, really?  Who is swallowing this bullshit at all is what I would like to know: who reads NME?  Seriously, who?

Also, it is seven in the morning and I’ve had no sleep cos I feel AWFUL- so take this post as you will, my head is spinning.  Gross.


Whingeaplooza

December 7, 2008

Anyone who knows me, knows that I love having a clean house. Right now, my place is disgusting, which tells you either I’m miserable, or exhausted. Right this second, I’m both.

My work hours are ridiculous, I come home to shower and sleep, and that’s it. Work is even more crazy cos it’s Christmas time, and that means functions galore. I used to tell everyone that I loved working functions, because everyone there is having a great time- free food, free booze, it’s all happy happy happy. I also used to find pulling beers endlessly relaxing. I take it ALL back. Functions are bastards, full of gross drunk people wanting to know how far they can push the tab, and could they please have 10 shots of tequila or whatever will get them pissed fastest please?, and could I please do some creative accounting and slip them in as a beer instead?? Organising functions are also a bitch. I’ve spent the last month fielding a barrage of phone calls and emails about every dumb thing, even though they love to change it all up and decide they want something altogether different 10 minutes before everyone’s due to arrive.

I blame part of my depression on the first function of the season which was heaps of fun. Lovely people with clear, do-able demands and early payment (whoo hoo, no badgering of the drunk PA for their credit card please). On the night they were all pleasantly tipsy, in that really entertaining way. Plus I got to spend the last 10 minutes playing air tennis with a balloon with the last guests. It was awesome. Meanwhile, the rest of the functions have mostly degenerated into “ok, ok, guys [stumble] we’re going… we’re all going to this strip club…”. You know the night has taken a bad turn when the logical next step is a “gentleman’s club”.

I would perhaps not be feeling so uncharitable if I got home without any trouble for the last couple of nights. Had a function last night and tonight, so I finished work extra late. Only like a dumbass, last night I forgot trying to get a cab on a Friday night wasn’t the best idea without planning. After much effort and no cab, I managed to get the very last bus that was in no way convenient, cos it stops 4 very large blocks away from my apartment. Have you ever stood up after you’ve rested very swollen feet? It is excruciating. Excruciating, I tells you. For the first block I almost cried, until I sucked it up and decided it was a lovely time to stroll (it wasn’t, but self delusion is sometimes quite productive).

Then tonight, one of my wait staff had the temerity to act like a little bitch ordering around the other waiters/waitresses to do his work, and complained about how he had a headache from working last night’s do, and proceeded to sulk all night after I told him to piss off downstairs. I, didn’t get a chance to sit for almost 12 hours yesterday. If I can do that, he can do his stupid, infinitely less stressful job without being a dick. I am definitely cutting that dude’s hours. He’s really starting to get on my, and everyone else’s nerves. He even had the cajones to tell me tonight after we were being friendly again that he’s always enjoyed working at other places, but he’s not enjoying his job now. Dude, I’m your BOSS, dumbass. That’s not something you tell your boss (to his credit, he has been working the same job for over a year, he’s fatigued, I get it). And THEN, when I told him his shifts for next week, he complained that he wasn’t getting enough hours. Make up your mind you shit.

So. I probably wouldn’t have whinged here at all, except- to make it all just crap- I ended the night on a high note. I was grateful that the function went well and everyone left in a good mood, and that I GOT TO GO HOME. I walked to the nearest hotel to make the cab getting process easier, and I got one as soon as I arrived. I was happy, I was exhausted and HAPPY. But no, I had to get creepy cab driver. One who kept on brushing his hand against my leg, and then who went a completely different way than I told him, and completely ignoring my instructions by going “I know, I know, you told me”. If you know, why didn’t you do it? Did you just want more time to be creepy and brush my leg?? Luckily my boss called me to check if I’d managed to catch a cab, and I made a big show of telling my boss, “YES, I’M IN A CAB NOW. MY BOYFRIEND IS WAITING UP FOR ME AT HOME, I’LL BE FINE. SHOULD I CALL YOU WHEN I GET IN? Then the stupid bastard deliberately cleared the cab fare before I could get a look at it- and claimed “It was about 18 dollars, 16, 17 dollars, you know”- and then blatantly lied about not having any coins (they were clearly visible) so I paid 20 for a cab fare that I know only costs me $15 bucks at MOST because he creeped me out so much I didn’t want to argue, and I just wanted to get out. Don’t know why, but that cab encounter upset me the most. I think it was because I was so happy and relieved to have my week over (I have a function tomorrow night, but it will be quite easy), and HAPPY to get a cab so quickly, and this creepy disgusting dude shitted all over my happy mood. Damn it, I should have written down his cab driver number and complained about him. Damn it.

On the plus side, am in a much better mood now that I’ve complained. Blogs are lovely and cathartic.

Fin