Old friend.

I'm not going back to blogging, at least I hope not. But this is, after all, a new year; which calls for new'ness in all regards. After a perusal of last year's resolutions in this blog and realizing that I accomplished all but two, it just seemed like a good idea. May good luck be on my side, once again.
Well, I guess, here's to 2010.
#1 goal - Living for me.
I've spent my entire life living for everyone else. The past two years have been leaps forward in changing that, but 2010 marks my graduation from fashion school and fashion life- the last remnant of my past life.
#2 - a repeat from last year, Write more letters.
I've certainly written more personal emails and cards this year, but I need to get my letter game going so that one day, like most of my favorites, I, too, can publish my "letters to important friends, x y and z." "Emails to famous friends" just doesn't have the same ring to it.
#3 - Write more, in general.
I write more than most "writers," this past year probably around 60 stories, but there's never enough time. The worst thing about being a "writer" is the writing part, itself. Less thinking about plots, more making them come to life.
#4 - Out with the people that do nothing to better my life.
This is always a resolution, and, probably, always will be. I did this really well last year, but, again, I'm letting people in that probably shouldn't be there. If you stress me out more than you make me smile, game over.
#5 - Finish first draft of my new novel.
Just a first draft
#6 - If I don't attend grad school, live in another country for at least 6 months
This shouldn't even be a resolution because I look forward to it so much.
#7 - While in aforementioned other country, get a random job
I want out of all comfort zones. Pizza delivery, bartender? May as well live as wildly and strangely as possible while you still can .
#8 - Less technology.
The iPhone is destroying any and all social skills I ever had.
#9 Be kinder to myself and more patient with others.
There is no one that I treat worse than me. Sure, I often spoil myself. I indulge in good food, good shopping, good vices, good times. But if anything goes wrong, if I disappoint in any way, self punishment will ensue ad infinitum. I need to relax and remind myself that this is my first shot at life, mistakes will be made, and there's nothing I can do about it. The same goes for others, and I shouldn't be as quick to write those people off.
#10 Live, to every extremity
Moderation is never key, at least not for me. The truth is, the more extreme everything is- the utmost sadness, fear, anxiety, lust, passion, fatigue- The more grateful I feel for the experience and the most alive, I suppose, that I ever feel in general.

Resolutions set. More mental, less tangible, this time around.
Lets see how this goes.
Health, happiness, light and rage to all this new year,
TK.

all happy families

Hello, all.

I just saw via la youtube that Mr. Jay Brannan has released an official music video for one of his songs (bottom video). My friend Michaela and I had a fun night out with Jay Brannan about two years back and always hoped he would make it big. He's an awesome guy and a fantastic musician, so check him out! His songs will be stuck in your head for hours to follow.

L&L

t.

facts are bigger in the dark

Many of you know that my laptop has been broken now for... well, almost 2 months?

My Macbook is my baby and although it pained me not to get it fixed immediately, it has actually been really refreshing not using it for every task I ever do. Thus, I decided to take on a goal of going some time without my beloved slab of silver metal/BFF. The results have been good. Not only have I begun drawing and doodling far more, but I've been doing much better in school without websites to take most to all of my attention away from taking actual notes. My new best friends, you ask?

Hurray for Moleskine and mechanical pencils. I love you love you.

Dorkiest sign off, perhaps ever.

TK

by any other name

What is a "friend" anyway?
I asked a few people:

"someone who makes you feel... not so inescapably alone"
"someone to laugh with"
"a loyal companion"
"can finish your sentences"


I'm not sure what I think a true friend is yet, but I do know that I've never
been so grateful for the good ones that I have (and never been
more ready to kick the ones that are not what I thought they were).

So yes; here's to my friends, my best friends, and those that I just love in general.
the friends that are like my family. the friends that I've only met once, maybe on a subway somewhere, my book/writing group friends/editors that know more about me than anyone, really. friends of friends that make me laugh. friends from the past that I wish I still spoke to. my family who are often the greatest friends you can find. friends that live far away. friends not on this earth anymore. future friends I may not even know yet. friends reading this terrible blog. This is a thank you.

Cheesy as this all may be, thank you for making me feel less... "inescapably alone"

As for the others; I've been making a lot of changes in my life as far as the people in it. If you are unaware of these changes, you're probably one of them. Life's too short to have negativity around (I'm negative enough on my own, I don't need more of it).

love you all. love and light and snuggles in this cold.
tk

PS. Friends!

and more and more and more and more i just don't have room! i love you all

dancing with plato

Today I made my Mac doc full of my writing family

because, well, I'm the dumbest person ever.

behold the geekiness:

Now who wouldn't want Sylvia Plath as their iTunes and Joyce as their InDesign?

Thanks, banaboogie!

m00viez.

My picks for this weeks Golden Globes (I love movies!):

Best Motion Picture:

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Frost/Nixon

The Reader

Revolutionary Road

Slumdog Millionaire

Revolutionary Road

A Mendes masterpiece. Unreal. Perfection.

Best Director - Motion Picture:

Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire

Stephen Daldry, The Reader

David Fincher, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Ron Howard, Frost/Nixon

Sam Mendes, Revolutionary Road

Danny Boyle

Sam Mendes amazes me, but Slumdog's direction was superb

BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A MOTION PICTURE – DRAMA

Leonardo DiCaprio, Revolutionary Road

Frank Langella, Frost/Nixon

Sean Penn, Milk

Brad Pitt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler

BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A MOTION PICTURE – DRAMA

Anne Hathaway, Rachel Getting Married

Angelina Jolie, Changeling

Meryl Streep, Doubt

Kristin Scott-Thomas, I've Loved You So Long

Kate Winslet, Revolutionary Road

again:

My favorite two performances from both of them. Out of this world.

No question.

To be fair, I have yet to see The Wrestler.

& if Kate doesn't win this, Meryl Streep should.

L&L!

such stuff as dreams are made on

Hello Blog World,

Happy 2-0-0-9 to all; scary, right?

I spent New Years Eve in the most exciting way possible:

Seeing "Doubt" with Gracie, coming home by 11:30, and spending midnight

with a Richard Yates book, a bottle of wine, and, later on, wait for it, Animal House on CBS.

Make fun all you want, but it was probably my favorite New Years yet.

I hate the "holiday" that is NYE - time just flies too fast and I think people 

get so wasted simply to forget the morbidity of getting older and

saying goodbye to another year of life.

And so, to acquiesce with at least one New Years "norm"...

da da da DAAAA, my set of resolutions for 2009:

1. Be healthier.

 I don't take very good care of myself and that's no secret to anyone that knows me. This will entail drinking water, not going more than two days without sleeping, not missing my allergy shots all the time, and not working so much that I faint at any given moment. 

2. Get a literary agent and/or be published in a literary magazine.

This is a must. Pretty self-explanatory. Better get my stamps ready and stop being so lazy!

3. Be more punctual.

I used to be the Queen of punctuality, but my throne has been relinquished.

Waking up on time will be a must...

4. Let more people read my writing and take criticism better.

Another must. No more locking myself inside for days eating ice cream

when another person calls my stories "masturbatory" or "overwrought, tedious waxy words."

Furthermore, no more cursing these critics existence on a daily basis 

while ripping apart their own work and lack of creativity in my mind. (I mean, what?)

5. Be less judgmental.

This will be the hardest...

6. Love people more and be nice to those that I am forced to love.

But how can I love people when I hate them so much? I guess that's not a good start, but everyone has that one family member (or 10) that are just so hard to love

7. Read at least 45 books

Including every classic that I've been putting off

8. Be more environmentally aware.

For someone who preaches this shit all the time, I really don't do as much as I should.

I get lazy with recycling and preserving energy more times than I'd like to admit

9. Send letters and cards.

I used to love this until techno world and the glory of iPhone email consumed me whole.

I miss the charm of sending and receiving real letters. Perfume, doodles, confetti and all.

10. Learn to shoot digitally.

My mother taught me photography with 35 mm film. While it will always be my preference, times are a changin' and I need to get over my stubborn opposition to digital photography. I actually find it pretty interesting.

11. Decorate my room and keep it clean

Randie, my roommate, is most likely laughing at this one...

MUST: hang my pictures & albums, get a new lamp, get a rug, paint my bookshelves, alphabetize my books, and get all of my typewriters fixed! 

12. Be happy.

I've been better with this as of the last few months, but I really want to try this year. I want to do things I enjoy, do things that make me feel good. Not pretend to enjoy things to make other people happy. If I want to spend the day painting, I'm going to spend the day painting. If I want to go to the Met, I'll go. At least one day a week, I need to do whatever makes me smile. I owe myself that.

Ah, so let us see how many I can actually achieve or improve upon.

I wish all of you have a happy and safe new year

...with lots of love and light :)

TK

that book

So, I gave Stephenie Meyer a chance, I really did.

I wanted so badly to like the Twilight book/series- I had seen the movie before

reading any of her work and I didn't think it was terrible. In fact, I remained

pretty entertained regardless of the ever so romantic,"You look like diamonds," lines.

After having dinner with my cousin, Alia Phibes, last night, I was

thrilled to see that reading Meyer devastated and frustrated us both to the point

of wanting to seek therapy for having stuck through the text.

I'm posting a part of this review she wrote of Twilight since

I could never put it into better words.. or funnier ones.

avphibes.livejournal.com

"If you have not read the book, here is the plot:

A girl (Bella) leaves her flaky Mom and moves to a small, rainy town to live with her dad. There's a really hot boy (Edward) who keeps giving her mixed signals that make her obsessed with him. He saves her from a car crash. She finds out he's a vampire. She decides she's in love with him. He starts being nice to her and he's in love with her too! But, uh oh! her blood smells delicious and he wants to kill her! But he controls himself and they kiss! Yay!

Not a lot going on, right? THAT'S 350 FUCKING PAGES OF THE BOOK! The last 150 pages consists of a bad vampire who decides he wants to kill Bella for sport and she has to run away with the help of Edward's hot vampire family, but bad vampire tricks her into meeting him at a dance studio and beats her up and OMG Edward saves her just before he kills her. Then they go to Prom. The end.

OH OH OH... and the bestest part of all: The reason vampires can't go out in the sun? Because they're sparkly. Yes, sparkly. REALLY. I'm going to extrapolate from this that they also ride unicorns and crap gumdrops. I had to put down the book at that point and crack up.

Seriously. 500 pages. Of course, if they cut out Bella's tedious run-throughs of her daily class schedule and the ten million ridiculously adjectivey descriptions of how hot Edward is, the book would probably be a pamphlet. And don't presume that those extra pages were used on extraneous things like, say, character development.. ha ha ho... you wish! There isn't a character in this book who has more depth than a kiddie pool, and the protagonist, Bella, is probably the most spot-on example of a Mary Sue Character since Mary Sue.

But here's the thing... I was kind of looking forward to this book being page-turning popcorn, but at about the halfway mark I started feeling this strange, undefined feeling of frustration that went beyond the fact that there seemed to be no plot. I couldn't put my finger on it... and then, it hit me: The book was written in the style of erotica and I was waiting for the sex. So that part of my brain that likes to spank it to bad literotica.com stores... or, you know, that WOULD if I were into that sort of thing *cough*... was impatient to get the show on the road. Subconsciously, my mind was saying "GET TO THE FUCKING ALREADY!" and once my conscious mind figured that out, I was like "This book was written by a Mormon. There will be no fucking." And then, admittedly, I was a little annoyed. I almost wanted to write the sex scenes myself. They would probably go a little something like this:

I gasped as Edward unzipped his gorgeous, godlike pants, revealing his smooth, white, marble cock. He glared at me with his burning topaz eyes as my fingertips brushed his cold, sparkling, granite dick. My heartbeat quickened. My breath caught. I didn't deserve this. How could I, clumsy, ordinary, plain, clumsy Bella Swan who was only asked to the dance by 3 different lovestruck boys, be so close to a cock so gorgeous, scintillating and godlike? It was like the pale marble cock of Adonis.

In a quick, graceful motion, Edward turned and glared at me. "Don't you see Bella?" he said as he held me in his strong grasp and dry-humped my thigh with annoyance, "I'm a danger to you! You should have nothing to do with me! Every moment you're risking your life!"

"Edward" I gasped "I love you. I will love you forever!" I was in agony thinking of losing him and never again touching his pale, white, cold, gorgeous, sparkling, marble, granite, dazzling, godlike, scintillating Adonis cock. How would I live? He was my life.

He glared at me again with his dazzling, golden eyes and told me with his gorgeous, pale lips "There's something I haven't told you. Something else about my kind."

"What Edward?" I asked breathlessly, "I will love you no matter what. Forever."

He brushed his cold, gorgeous, marble lips close to my clumsy, ordinary ears and whispered "We..."

"What, Edward? I love you. Forever. You can tell me anything."

He gave me his crooked grin and said, "We ejaculate rainbows."


...and so forth. You get the idea."

This brings the major LOLS.

LoveLight&Vampires

TK

most human beings are inescapably alone, and therein lies their tragedy

MILK

everyone please see this one.

i can't believe in the year 2008, we are still fighting these battles...

L&L

nada!

So I've been on the right track again with writing &

high off of being inspired and "mused" again

Lets hope I can get through my last week of finals and finish this story up!

Till then:

Thought I might give you all a little taste of Hemingway to start off your day.

Somehow, I never read this short; and now that I have, I think it's quite masterful. 

A Clean, Well-Lighted Place

BY ERNEST HEMINGWAY

It was very late and everyone had left the cafe except an old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light. In the day time the street was dusty, but at night the dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the cafe knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on him. 

"Last week he tried to commit suicide," one waiter said. 

"Why?" 

"He was in despair." 

"What about?" 

"Nothing." 

"How do you know it was nothing?" 

"He has plenty of money." 

They sat together at a table that was close against the wall near the door of the cafe and looked at the terrace where the tableswere all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind. A girl and a soldier went by in the street. The street light shone on the brass number on his collar. The girl wore no head covering and hurried beside him. 

"The guard will pick him up," one waiter said. 

"What does it matter if he gets what he's after?" 

"He had better get off the street now. The guard will get him. They went by five minutes ago." 

The old man sitting in the shadow rapped on his saucer with his glass. The younger waiter went over to him. 

"What do you want?" 

The old man looked at him. "Another brandy," he said. 

"You'll be drunk," the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away. 

"He'll stay all night," he said to his colleague. "I'm sleepy now.I never get into bed before three o'clock. He should have killed himself last week." 

The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from thecounter inside the cafe and marched out to the old man's table. Heput down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy. 

"You should have killed yourself last week," he said to the deafman. The old man motioned with his finger. "A little more," hesaid. The waiter poured on into the glass so that the brandy slopped over and ran down the stem into the top saucer of the pile."Thank you," the old man said. The waiter took the bottle back inside the cafe. He sat down at the table with his colleague again.

"He's drunk now," he said. 

"He's drunk every night." 

"What did he want to kill himself for?" 

"How should I know." 

"How did he do it?" 

"He hung himself with a rope." 

"Who cut him down?" 

"His niece." 

"Why did they do it?" 

"Fear for his soul." 

"How much money has he got?" "He's got plenty." 

"He must be eighty years old." 

"Anyway I should say he was eighty." 

"I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o'clock.What kind of hour is that to go to bed?" 

"He stays up because he likes it." 

"He's lonely. I'm not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me."

"He had a wife once too." 

"A wife would be no good to him now." 

"You can't tell. He might be better with a wife." 

"His niece looks after him. You said she cut him down." 

"I know." "I wouldn't want to be that old. An old man is a nasty thing." 

"Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling.Even now, drunk. Look at him." 

"I don't want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has no regard for those who must work." 

The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over at the waiters. 

"Another brandy," he said, pointing to his glass. The waiter who was in a hurry came over. 

"Finished," he said, speaking with that omission of syntax stupid people employ when talking to drunken people or foreigners. "Nomore tonight. Close now." 

"Another," said the old man. 

"No. Finished." The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a towel and shook his head. 

The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leathercoin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a peseta tip. The waiter watched him go down the street, a very oldman walking unsteadily but with dignity. 

"Why didn't you let him stay and drink?" the unhurried waiter asked. They were putting up the shutters. "It is not half-past two." 

"I want to go home to bed." 

"What is an hour?" 

"More to me than to him." 

"An hour is the same." 

"You talk like an old man yourself. He can buy a bottle and drinkat home." 

"It's not the same." 

"No, it is not," agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry. 

"And you? You have no fear of going home before your usual hour?" 

"Are you trying to insult me?" 

"No, hombre, only to make a joke." 

"No," the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from pulling down the metal shutters. "I have confidence. I am all confidence." 

"You have youth, confidence, and a job," the older waiter said."You have everything." 

"And what do you lack?" 

"Everything but work." 

"You have everything I have." 

"No. I have never had confidence and I am not young." 

"Come on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up." 

"I am of those who like to stay late at the cafe," the older waitersaid. 

"With all those who do not want to go to bed. With all those who need a light for the night." 

"I want to go home and into bed." 

"We are of two different kinds," the older waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. "It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the cafe." 

"Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long." 

"You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant cafe. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves." 

"Good night," said the younger waiter. 

"Good night," the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself, It was the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that isprovided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not a fear ordread, It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all anothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived init and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y naday pues nada. Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give usthis nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee. He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine. 

"What's yours?" asked the barman. 

"Nada." 

"Otro loco mas," said the barman and turned away. 

"A little cup," said the waiter. 

The barman poured it for him. 

"The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished,"the waiter said. 

The barman looked at him but did not answer. It was too late at night for conversation. 

"You want another copita?" the barman asked. 

"No, thank you," said the waiter and went out. He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean, well-lighted cafe was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. He would lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it's probably only insomnia. 

Many must have it.

love and light, all.

TKVTW

provocations

Hello, everyone; if, anyone.

I hope you all had a nice Thanksgiving and are keeping warm during the holidays.

Just came back from sunny Florida, and whilst I don't miss the atmosphere very much, I do desperately miss the weather on NY days like this. 

It was great to catch up with those *important ones* and to you guys, I miss you already.

An increase in responsibility and strange hobbies has inevitably led to the cessation and demise of my social life- so for those of you whom I have not seen in awhile, my apologies. I love you, too.

My new fun pet? My old, toy Diana camera that I haven't stopped playing with.

Something about old manuals are so charming. 

Here are some from my experimental shooting with this 120 film,

The view from my balcony. I tried to do pin-point here, 

but with no tripod it got a little sleezy.

This is Quinn. She is beautiful. We go on dates.

Playing with BANABOOGIE in Florida!! Man, I miss her.

My stunning friend, Gracie. One of the oldest and dearest friends I have.

My first day with the camera. Met Ashley for lunch and this man taught her how to "pose properly." He then continued to ask us what questions we would ask someone if they were forced to tell the truth. I guess my honestly only provided impetus for him to further pry, but I really loved him and his inquiries...

My cousins, Briana and Madison, on Thanksgiving. So precious

She wanted to play with my toy, so I let her take one of me, too. 

Back to work now. I promise to update more.

Love & Light,

TK

HI, from Florida

Hello from Me & BanaBoogie!
I don't want to leave this weather.
More posts coming!

Happy Happy,
TK

you would suck my lungs

Feeling very depressed today.

Just finished, by far, the strangest book I think I've read to date

Loved it:

Not for one with a weak stomach or, lets just say, a Jodi Picoult fan. 

The book makes little sense and works more as an insane, random, disgusting, yet, alluring, perverted, what the fuck did I just read, kind of piece. For that, it succeeds. 

Bellamy used the "cut-up" technique, an ode to Burrough's Naked Lunch, but, instead, uses all profanity. Sound like you want it yet? Trust me, you do. 

In other news: 

Barack Obama is our president. 

I really have no words to describe the emotions I felt on November 4th... I really can't seem to find any. Being in New York City that night, in my pajamas, walking alone, was the singular greatest experience of my life. You really, just, had to be there. 

Unfortunately, (isn't there always an unfortunately?) the next day I found out that Prop H8te passed in California (don't even get me started on Arkansas...) and my tears took a quick shift from those of happiness to those of bitter disappointment. How could we have taken such an enormous leap forward for equality and then taken an even bigger step backwards for hate?

Nothing makes sense to me. 

Wishing you all a better day than I,

TK

fuck.

Writers block sucks and I'm so miserable!

rfiuewhfiuewhgfiwy348934i!!!!

I know it's all I've been blogging about but this is so depresssinngg!

I have no character development skills as of late and... well, no other skills either.

Lets let Nabokov explain my anguish with characters since he can actually write and i cannot:

"I have often noticed that we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability of type that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind. No matter how many times we reopen "King Lear," never shall we find the good king banging his tankard in high revelry, all woes forgotten, at a jolly reunion with all three daughters and their lapdogs. Never will Emma rally, revived by the sympathetic salts in Flaubert's father's timely tear. Whatever evolution this or that popular character has gone through between the book covers, his fate is fixed in our minds, and, similarly, we expect our friends to follow this or that logical and conventional pattern we have fixed for them. Thus X will never compose the immortal music that would clash with the second rate symphonies he has accustomed us to. Y will never commit murder. Under no circumstances could Z ever betray us. We have it all arranged in our minds, and the less often we see a particular person the more satisfying it is to check how obediently he conforms to our notion of him every time we hear of him. Any deviation in the fates we have ordained would strike us as not only anomalous but unethical. We would prefer not to have known at all our neighbor, the retired hot-dog stand operator, if it turns out he has just produced the greatest book of poetry this age has seen."

One of my favorite passages ever. Completely different context; but I still feel it when writing non-fiction. Help me, please?

(Needing) Love&Light,

TK

....

writers block writers block writers block.... 3 weeks and 4 days?
need a story by tonight...