E X I T

skidaddled.

2010-05-27T18:05:00.000-07:00

y'know. MOVED.

photo[ pold.

gimme gimme gimmicks.

2009-06-09T20:33:00.001-07:00

they aint no cure

if they aint no sickness.

smoker[ nara. fontage[ parla.

checkmate.

2009-02-24T23:45:00.000-08:00

the glass
by hana lee

there is a glass that separates us.
it is several inches thick
but it feels like 15 years.

i can see you through it
right next to my own reflection,
and it saddens me that that's how close we'll ever get
to being on the same side.

this glass that separates us
steals my words,
steals my thoughts.

so that everything that i rehearsed in my head
on my way here is forgotton.
and all that comes out is:
_________________.

blanks like a flatline.

i hate the glass that separates us,
murky with fingerprints
that have wiped angry tears.

it represents every road that we should not have taken,
but did anyway.
it represents everything we cannot fix
as much as we wanted to.

but the glass that separates us
in all of it's emotion-inducing power
actually does not separate us at all.

i think about you everyday because of it.
you think about us everyday because of it.
everything i do is dedicated to your memory
because of it, the glass that separates us.

model[ devon. photographer[ noidea.

clickclickboom.

2009-01-21T22:39:00.000-08:00

hey martha cooper!

a pirate's life for me.

2009-01-09T23:08:00.000-08:00

what doesn't kill you, only makes you
p a r a n o i d.

paper[ garduno. wall[ krave.
yo esther and chester! i see you.

bread and butter.

2008-12-06T01:15:00.000-08:00

1:53 A.M.
by hana lee

i found the purpose of life.
it's to prove that you are strong enough to handle it.
because once you find out that you're not, you die.
mentally, physically, everythingally.

you are facing a test of strength
where brawn is last to be chosen
because it is absolutely useless in battles of the mind.

a test of strength
where gifts wrapped in familiar faces holding beating hearts
are given to you and then taken away.
where all things material and all things not
are completely disposable.

fragile.

and the questions hover.
are you strong enough to replace them
with something just as priceless?
are you strong enough to keep what remains
to build something new?
and if not, are you strong enough to believe
in someone who can?

HELL YEA, SUCKA.

artwork[ esci.
stud[ rob.
and fyi, i am so NOT one of those crazy girls with the edward cullen shirts
screaming every time they see a twilight ad. i don't scream.
and i don't have an edward cullen shirt. yet.
*and a great big hello to m'girl vee from redefine.
i saw your comment down there. feels good to see your voice.

veng veng.

2008-10-16T20:30:00.001-07:00

i rub palms in anticipation of his new album.
and never a more appropriate time than now.
sock it to me, you lyrical madman.
i need something to take my breath away.
i'm retarded [ em

a fifth of vodka.

2008-09-27T01:40:00.000-07:00

you're looking at me as if i know what this is.
this glitch. this godawful period in life where they're all testing you. your patience. your intelligence. your loyalty. your multiple choices. your short answers. eeny meeney miney moe. which one's right, you'll never know. and for unknown unfair reasons, it is not possible to disappear, not even with the most strategically handled process of elimination. i fxcking hate tests.

if i really had to guess though, this is probably just one big giant practical joke. here you go, one rotten lemon so you can make some poisonous concoction that'll render you way too weak to catch the next one. THUNK! there's another rotten lemon, this time it's not really a rotten lemon. it's a rock. isn't this fun?

i gotta figure this growing up shxt out.
maybe i'll go drink some coffee.
wear lipstick, and pop out some good-for-nothing babies.
just like your mom.

image[ amelie.

question marks the spot.

2008-08-20T06:37:00.000-07:00

"my friend, it is possible."

2008-07-27T14:30:00.000-07:00

dl without gravity [ waterfall

i'm believing in a resiliency that may not exist.
i'm hoping that's enough to change some outcomes.

print[ rostarr. photo [ from rodarte. art[ notsure.

you can't run but you can hide.

2008-07-21T23:33:00.000-07:00

my escape plan
by hana lee

i'm going to live in the sea.
as a mermaid.

train[ deuce. model [coco.

toy maybes.

2008-07-15T23:41:00.001-07:00

next best thing since sticky-hands.
finally. i was starting to get tired of rotten boston baked beans and chinese tattoos. i wonder what the ideas are. my god, it's killing me. if i ever found one, i'd sit there and spend all my money trying to get every single idea out of that thing, just out of pure curiosity. and also because my brain is fresh out of ideas as of late, causing me to become the world's biggest. bore. or boar, depending on the time and place.

"Jake Bronstein recently bought a toy vending machine off the Internet. He filled the toy capsules with ideas of fun things to do and started placing the machine in various spots around New York. For 50 cents you get the original toy, an idea, and a map to guide you to the location for your idea. Each capsule also contains a quarter, refunding half of your purchase price (the machine wouldn’t let him charge less than 50 cents.)" [cred to wooster and the urbanprankster.

sharks.

2008-07-09T18:36:00.000-07:00

models[ abe. kevin.

in a silk suit trying not to sweat.

2008-06-24T00:23:00.000-07:00

inspiration nation
by hana lee

"this is how it works":
i am inspired by her
being inspired by him
being inspired by them
being inspired by us

being inspired by you
being inspired by it.

so be inspiring.
our lives depend on it.

now gimme your slurpee.

photo[ from homme. art[above. ooooh, you know i love me some clean composition and fonts regardless of the language! who knows what that means?

go and get set, already.

2008-06-16T01:49:00.000-07:00

rhymefest ft. citizen cope [ bullet

still[ darjeeling limited.

sofa king.

2008-06-16T00:49:00.000-07:00

y'see, i have this brain that stutters and a mouth that twitches and it's making me wish, above all fame and fortune, that i had the ability to know exactly what to say and how to say it. when and where to say it. who to say it to. and who to not.

eloquence is power, and i mean it. s'no fun fumbling with words like i do all the time. having to make my hands dance to distract. my teeth picking at my chapped lips like a nut.

yadda yadda. you can kill with your words, y'know. save lives with your words. shave wives with your words. word.

i wanna talk to samson.

2008-06-10T00:43:00.000-07:00

i went to work, and all i got was this pinche blank face.

[buf. took me awhile to find an image worth sharing. it never used to be like that. collective and crimes used to be knee-deep in funny, creative, original pieces y'know? now ya'll are littered with the same whack gimmicks. makes a girl wanna pick up stamp collecting or something, damn.

walk it off.

2008-05-27T00:14:00.000-07:00

chapter 8

he couldn't stop fidgeting, his thighs sticking and unsticking to the leather chair like velcro. he used to love hospitals because everybody hated them, but now, for the first time, it was driving him crazy. the nurses whisper too much. the doctors walk too fast. the patients cough in turn with their echoes, some sad form of self-conversation, discussing the heavy realization that they were ill and nobody cared to recognize it for more than the visiting hours would allow. he watched the doctor sitting in front of him twiddle his thumbs, crinkle his nose, and then mouth the words: you will die in two weeks.
nothing else. just that.

and as he sat there, he realized that it was his responsibility to experiment with the emotions of everyone around him. bring it up as an april fool's joke, perhaps. laugh and tell them he was joking, and then tell them the truth a day later. he would make as many promises and pinky promises and cross-your-hearts as he could muster, all with the intention of not keeping any of them. he would plant his seeds in all types of soil, knowing perfectly well that he would not live long enough to tend to anything.

even his little daydream believer niece who loved him very very much had a dirty trick awaiting her. he would make her promise to buy him a grand house and a shiny black limo when she grows up. it would make me the happiest man alive, he told her.

and as her mother pulled up in the driveway, picked her up and loaded her in the backseat; as her tiny hand struggled to roll down the window, she carefully lifted her head out just enough so that he would see her mouth the words: ok uncle. i promise i will.
nothing else. just that.

and if he only would've known how much that would affect her in the future, to think she made a promise that was impossible to keep even if she desperately wanted to, he would've smiled an even bigger smile as she drove away from him.

artist] stephen tompkins. his illustrations remind me of old school nick cartoons, particularly ren & stimpy. very cool.

puddemup, puddemup.

2008-05-21T10:08:00.000-07:00

i am so bad ass in my dreams.

artist[ kripo

word to your muzzle.

2008-05-14T21:49:00.000-07:00

models in order of appearance[ surfer dyudes. viv. drick. doo. jcho. sem.

wake up the kids.

2008-05-06T12:51:00.000-07:00

cred to verystrongpanda for the first vid. no really, i'm so happy he found this because bi and colbert have been on my hottie list for a while now. fxcking cracks me up.
cred to hurrikang for the reintroduction of the second video's song. made me remember all the times i used to print out lyrics from the marshall mathers lp and memorize em on the bus. the mv's awesome though. i saw it for the first time recently, and it broke my heart.
p.s. d'you pick up your copy of redefine yet? if not, chop-chop!

because of the wonderful things he does.

2008-04-20T20:58:00.000-07:00

movie: wizard of oz.
read: shel silverstein, for ol' times.
snack: watermelon licorice.
drink: orange french soda at borders.
designer: abaete.

orange you mad i didnt save banana.

2008-04-12T00:17:00.000-07:00

models in order of appearance[ dan, coppola ducks, and henry.
film and color salvage (last 2) provided by chez.

why so serious?

2008-04-11T01:25:00.000-07:00

l isa made a muxtape.
muxtape made me smile.
so i made a muxtape.
it is superduper:
poldudley.muxtape.com

model[ gemmaaaa.
what she looks like right there. that's what you look like listening to a song you never knew was a favorite until you hear it fresh five years later. that's what you look like after going to viv's house for a thanksgiving dinner in april. like in n out burgers and hot fudge sundaes and video games all on a thursday night, b'cause you're not a kid anymore and you're not a grownup yet. so you can do whatever the hell you please. make you feel that way (make you feel that way).

click.

2008-04-02T23:18:00.000-07:00

added a link to my list b'cause i had to.
these are just way too cool. cred to elatedbliss for the word.

look alive, fool.

2008-03-24T10:17:00.000-07:00

you had your hair combed.
your breath smelled like spearmint.
you were wearing a suit.
and your talk was as clean as your walk.
it was good to see how it could've been,
regardless of the fact that it was just in my head.

art[ wk.

my fig fix.

2008-03-11T14:12:00.001-07:00

i love figs.
which is weird, don't get me wrong, since i'm probably the only person under the age of 50 who even eats them. but big deal.
lately, i've been having these massive fig cravings. fig newtons never hit the spot, but i went to the market this morning to buy some anyway. guess what i find instead... fig jam! who knew about this and didn't tell me? not as fun as eating the actual fruit, but it will definitely suffice.
p.s. if anyone has a fig tree, please leave me your address in the comment box so that i can rob you of all your fig fruit in the middle of the night with pantyhose on my head.

art[ blu. photo model[ lennon. if you were wondering why i used these two photographs to accompany my fig entry, here is the reason: somehow, i imagined the bananas from blu's bananaman to be figs and i'd be swimming in them. i'd be the luckiest girl in the world. all senior citizens that pass by will grind their gums in glowing envy! as for the lennon photo, it reminded me of my uncle, the beautiful man who tended to the fig tree from my childhood so that i may eat them and grow up to be such a fig-loving loser.

everyday gruel.

2008-03-10T21:07:00.001-07:00

luey: geniuses, the whole lot of em. intellectual complexity God himself couldn't figure out. and when you're that smart, relationships last for two seconds at most. friends become fruit flies, fluttering about for a sweet moment immediately preceding a fatal one.
me: how awful.
luey: yes, but, well, see. their brains travel through time much faster than most. slowing down for non-geniuses will eventually result in a tragic drug overdose of some sort, or maybe just enough to permanently embed a microchip within their brains that forces them to live in a zombie-like state with everyone else. prerecorded messages coming out of their mouths. preprogrammed tears from their sockets. ironically enough, even if they don't slow down, even if they just go on being their goddamn genius selves, this is their ultimate demise.
me: because relationships are just that important.
luey: precisely. and because everyone, despite their pitiful attempts to be different, wants to be the same. and also because these geniuses have so much thought, there is really no room for a spine. some guts. balls. etc. my dear, there is no such thing as a genius who fails to cower. for those who show the utmost courage discount their mind's fear, something a genius can never do.

photo model[ clo.

come on, little bug.

2008-03-04T20:40:00.001-08:00

and you said flash was the suckiest superhero.

she can make her butt talk.

2008-02-27T12:49:00.001-08:00

it was a good month, february.
and i don't have much to say because of it.
that's what usually happens.
s'why i'm gonna go find me some drama!

photos[ by soopahvi the visionary.

the one inch punch.

2008-02-14T01:26:00.000-08:00

whack genie.
by hana lee

i found a magic lamp today underneath my chair,
hidden under cakes of dust and giant clumps of hair.
quickly i did polish it with breath and elbow grease
and out came deafening noises of twenty angry geese.

the first came out with wings amok, his eyes distorted red.
for at his tail, there seemed to be an infantry he led
of nineteen old and tired geese and at the very end,
a tiny nymph-like genie who closed his eyes and said:

"'scuse my foul fowl company, they're all quite deaf and blind.
but you, m'child, have beckoned me. a wish you have in mind?"
at this, i smiled and clapped my hands and cried out: yes i do!
i wish for the greatest one-inch punch, a mighty fierce one too!

and as i sat there waiting for my arms and fists to swell.
i imagined making bullies cry, sending them to hell.
i imagined saving poor old folk with wobbly legs and hands
and guiding all the picked-on kids to strange and magic lands.

and then i guess i dont recall a whole lot after that.
for i found myself, on the floor, hands and face down flat.
my body felt it took a blow, and then i realized.
that genie punk outsmarted me, and now i'm paralyzed.

art[ wk & twist mcgee.

it's a bobby pin trap.

2008-02-12T19:59:00.000-08:00

there is absolutely no way i'm getting sick, again. first of all, i already took the flu shot, against my own will. 25 bucks paid in full, against my own will.
and, against my own will, i got butt-sick for a full 2 weeks because of it. so imagine my disgusted surprise when i woke up with a throbbing headache and a sniffle with a tickle this morning.

nuh-uh, no way, no how. i went straight to whole foods after work today and got myself some odwalla carrot juice. some tangerine juice. some yellow-green bananas (color to perfection!). some pears (organic, mind you). some luna tea-infused snacks promising longevity and health. and some apple chips. all for a fancy 35 dolla. can you believe that? can't a girl eat healthy in some financial peace? if i still get sick, somebody's gonna get it. i'm seriously going to collect cough germs in a jar and release them to the whole world out of pure anger.

now, i know you're probably thinking: lady, there are people with bigger problems.
and to you, i say: shut up. here are your cough germs. *wipe*

art[ silencer.

old man fights.

2008-02-08T01:53:00.000-08:00

work[ alex ross. my favorite series ever, and i mean it too. i know i had these up on my last blog, but the bastard genius ross took them off his page so i had to go on a frantic google search to find them again. now they are saved, locked, and loaded onto my computer. i'm guarding them with my life. note: you have to look at them with the song playing though. otherwise, pointless.

warriors on the loose.

2008-01-09T21:06:00.000-08:00

photo models in order of appearance [ chez. samo. viv. ree. es. ro. henry. mike. doo. dpark. pecha. dpak. bri. drick. crab. also, cred to the darkroom lab on reseda. they are all that and a bag of earthquake chips.

poke her face.

2008-01-08T21:33:00.000-08:00

you've been hit by.
you've been struck by.
a smooth criminal.

womens line[ band of outsiders. holler, ro.
p.s. reevesy delivers.

go on, gemma.

2008-01-07T11:10:00.000-08:00

do not litter your question marks.
it'll only result in messy conversation,
a filthy environment to raise your children.
by hana lee & a memory

i've stopped fussing because i realize, and i mean fully and completely understand that, everyone is messed up really. their insides are just as triple-quadruple knotted. their surroundings are just as slippery, just as temporary. but you don't see them crying about it now, doyuh?

so then, look. let's make a promise. let's focus on the now. let's not think about what the future's gonna be like, 'cause it looks too frighteningly dreary from here. the unknown and all. don't it?

oh God, no. i imagine that's the only place i'll be perfectly fine. you see, you don't know if you'll make a mistake tomorrow, until it becomes today or yesterday, in which case it isn't the future anymore. it's just the present and (blink) the past, which is already ridden and overflowing with your own mistakes. and man, are they savage. they are cruel beyond measure. i mean, these mistakes, they don't care about feelings at all. am i making any sense to you here?

not really, no. but then again, do you ever?

hotel cafe tonight with dan. i'mpraying for music like fingers running through hair. really! oh, reevesy better deliver. anything to help me forget about rainy weather. and the flu. pout, and more pout. i'll tell you something funny though. i gave henry a tiny piece of broccoli last night and she cannnNOT stop leaking death gas. she is so miserable right now, ha-ha-ha!
and how awkward is 1:52 in that trailer?

boy versus wolf.

2008-01-03T22:38:00.000-08:00

things that make you cool:

a traumatic childhood experience
a strut
a sixth sense
expression through glances, not words
a watch
bad posture

things that make you uncool:

winking

artist[ mel kadel.
photo model[ charlotte gainsborough.
reminder to those who have tested cool: click nucleus!

thank yuh, mr. culkin.

2007-12-25T21:38:00.000-08:00

i dare '08 to be greater than this year.
happy holidays to the lovers, the haters,
and the non-participators.

scab collection.

2007-12-17T09:00:00.000-08:00

[dated '03]
special thanks to chester for taking the time to scan them pesky slides.

sliceys and cherries.

2007-12-14T08:30:00.000-08:00

three tears for the thumb war king
by hana lee

the year is two thousand and eighty.
and technology's surprisingly fading.
the soldiers have eaten all of their guns
and the world is peacefully waiting.

you see, the times have changed.
no more contracts or treaties arranged.
no more starving children in africa
or baby elephants caged.

for behold the thumb war king.
with a thumb that resembles swamp thing.
when evil world leaders are hungry to fight,
they fight in his thumb war ring.

[drumroll]

"and the winner is... King Thumb!"
his enemies' fingers are numb.
the crowds are filled with smiling faces.
long live peace, love, and freedom.

---

the year is two thousand one hundred.
the world is downright dumbfounded.
King Thumb was cutting his chicken pot pie
along with his strong thumb, "confound it!"

you see, now, the times will change.
world leaders will gladly arrange
their robots to eat all the women and pups
whilst explosions blast, bang, and rage.

cause, now, there's no thumb war king.
no winner to fix all things.
so when anyone comes, hungry to kill-
they'll do it, and do it with zing!

artists[ pot in dublin.

no more diagnoses.

2007-12-03T10:38:00.000-08:00

i hate having trust issues. trust issues never get any better. they just worsen with time. with experience. you catch yourself questioning the character of everyone around you.

"can i trust you? can i trust you?"

you're asking them over and over again in your head as if they'll answer you back through the same telepathic channel.

no, you cannot trust me, i'm just as 10-faced as you are.

soon, you're having invisible conversations with these people (in your head), a good five-minute chunk out of the day. of course, they don't realize it. of course, no one else realizes it. they just think you're a little quiet today. a little punk-ass today. something must be up.

no sir. it's just my head. my gotdamn trust issues. they just won't leave me alone. can we say (whistle) crazy? hahaha. oh man, what the hell is my problem??

but there's hope for me yet.
i'm planning to watch the goonies this afternoon while eating a bag of m&ms and drinking a can of strawberry banana kerns. mm-mm-mm. a sure shot remedy for anything in the world.

artist[ yuko shimizu.

shinymetallicpurplearmor.

2007-11-29T18:04:00.000-08:00

note to selves: stay together.
otherwise, you'll disappear.

viv and i stuffed our faces with carne asada the other day at las fuentes. that place is so good, it's a shame i only just found out about it. people are all: "dude, you live in the valley and you just found out about las fuentes?" man, whatever. just pass me my burrito.

viv's a face i see more in my head than in real life. it's strange how our brains are connected though, 'cause just when i think she's a figment of my imagination, she'll call. or, in this week's case, she'll come and feed me: food, memories, cnn reports, perversions. the stuff's fuel for me.

photographer[ christian fossati.
second photo model[ chez. one of my favorite portraits, because he looks like an angel. a golden-hearted cherub blowing bubbles of hope.

crazy bones.

2007-11-21T15:18:00.000-08:00

cute as hell. but that's beside the point.
he rules the alleyways, suckaaaaas.

exhibit[ Dec. 1, 2007 @ the Merry Karnowsky Gallery.

photographer[ rony & his damn photobooth.

i live in a pocket.

2007-11-11T01:25:00.001-08:00

1:30 a.m. bust it.

questions for boy beauty
with mischievous intent
by hana lee

1. why do you love catastrophes as much as you do? full-blown cataclysms of rotting emotions. human hearts thrust into the air, gasping for sympathy like fish out of water. 2. why do you let it happen? 3. why do you get so many chances, while i get so few? hundreds and hundreds of mistakes would mean more helping hands reaching out for you. which would mean less hands for me. maybe a round of applause, for pity's sake. 4. why do you let it happen? 5. why do you hide where everybody can see you? you see, now i am reminded of you quite often because of it. with every passing frown passing another frown to its watcher. every shaky hand craving for something (anything!) to put it to rest. oral fixations. obsessive compulsion. all the daydream believers have been exterminated. every child, abandoned. unloved. and you just let it happen.

artist[ fuco ueda. cred to ben and nucleus for exhibiting her work.

the killers and the hundred dollar billers.

2007-11-05T19:34:00.000-08:00

tragic magic.

2007-10-29T19:54:00.000-07:00

i'm losing it.

dear diary,

i took the bus today because my car is experiencing some major plastic surgery at the shop. i'm reminded of the scene where Lion gets his curls done at oz. unfortunately, i was at a place that wasnt so colorful. i spent hours on a body-odor-scented metro seat, hoping to get to a stop that didn't even exist. fxck my lxck, i need a compass. and some common sense while your at it, God. if you gots the time, please. and. thank you.

photographer[ unknown.
but the guy in the picture resembling an offramp hobo is definitely redman.
vid[ blue magic: jay-z. hov, hot. but pharell, hottuuuh.

pass me my view-master.

2007-10-24T18:44:00.001-07:00

artist[ takashi murakami. @ moca on the 29th.
photographer[ kyle bickel. summer'02.

the box epiphany.

2007-10-16T14:10:00.000-07:00

i can't collect the right words to form an adequate definition of it. hell, i can't even collect the wrong words. all i can tell you is that it's called "the box epiphany" and it changes your life everytime. the box epiphany: pe1- the realization of how closely your present [physical] environment is connected to your past [emotional] environment; the cause and result of nostalgia.

chapter 22
by hana lee

pol tells her: be quiet, you're talking to yourself again. she closes her mouth shut. it has been approximately ten years since they moved in and now they're taking those ten years away in boxes. remember baseball games with plastic pipes and a tennis ball? stomach aches from 10 tubes of pelon (damn that ice cream man, he always looked suspicious). backyard campouts with in and out burgers and orange bang. uppercutting the neighborhood bully. the earthquake. the rubble. the screaming tears. the cancer. the addictions. she duct tapes them shut, they're talking to themselves again, these boxes. and then, as fast as the movers pocketed their tip, she forgot everything- just locked everything up and threw away the key.

ten years later, pol calls her: pick me up, let's eat, it's been forever. no, pol, just ten years. she was out on her own now, living in a quaint and pleasant place with a backyard and a garage. strangely enough, it looks almost identical to the house she moved out of ten years ago. but she dares not tell pol, for reasons that weren't real enough for her to explain.

pol tells her: let's do bbq, dr. hogly wogly's will blow your fxcking mind. she nods as she adjusts her seatbelt. she nods as she drives him across the blocks, unevenly lit by dying fluorescent lights. she nods, as the radio plays a dumb song by a dumb band. pol whispers [to himself, not to her]: man, this place brings back memories. her nodding stops as she asks: mm, what do you mean? he looks at her, with his eyes calling her stupid and his lips mouthing: we used to live here, a few blocks down.

and somewhere and somehow, someone found her key and released every childhood memory that belonged to her. like flying snapshots in an HP commercial. Someone, quick, start playing "Picture Book" because she can't get anything else in her head but: you're back. you're back. you're back, and you didn't even know it.

pol tells her: be quiet. you still talk to yourself?

she tells pol: no, it's just... it's the box epiphany.

artist[ ben tour.

make way for mos.

2007-10-15T10:07:00.000-07:00

dead clocks.

2007-09-30T23:19:00.000-07:00

you don't need to remind me. time has played its tricks one too many times and i am a fool to it no longer. luey begs to differ.

luey: what do you miss the most?
i: right now?
luey: right now. right this very second.
i: i'm thinking hugs that only reach up to my legs. heartfelt scribbles that make love notes and special portraits. days made golden from sticks of gum and high fives. "you like my new shoes?"
luey: you miss the kids.
i: i definitely miss the kids. but i could never go back, only because they're big and rotten and i'd rather not see them that way.
luey: you're a damn wuss. get out of that head of yours before it makes you sick.
i: no thank you.

artist [ audrey kawasaki, one of my all-time favorites. thank you ben for having her pieces at your show. it's a whole new thing having it 5 inches from your face on a piece of wood as opposed to 5 inches from your face on a computer monitor. eh?

please do not cut negatives.

2007-09-21T10:08:00.000-07:00

the puddles
by hana lee

hi, kids. i've come to warn you. there is a magic around us that's much too powerful to be learned, much too dangerous to be seen. it is the magic that melts good little children like yourselves into small puddles of water, left to be stepped on, left to be splashed about, left to bubble in this deadly heat. and don't you dare think you can scream your way to safety. oh, no. for this magic will easily solidify those screams into worms, worms that shrivel in two seconds flat, looking like they're running in place without feet before they die. it's one of the most disgusting sights you'll ever see. so, next time, if ever you see a puddle on a summer's day, you now know that this puddle was once a child like yourself, who made the awful decision to be good. that is why you must remember to do whatever you want. don't eat vegetables, just gummy snacks. and don't listen to your teachers or parents. they don't know what they're talking about.

photographer [ unknown.
the model's gemma, though. i swear she has the prettiest face.

itchy and scratchy.

2007-09-12T13:52:00.000-07:00

have you seen this cuteness??

credit to VeryStrongPanda for the vid. check out his read.

power to the cottonmouth.

2007-09-12T12:40:00.000-07:00

some new york.
some who knows.

outside andrews.
the best ojuice
and pancakes ever.

right: ranunculus.

the roomies
at their best.

save the princess.

the roof, the roof,
the roof is on fiyah.

sweet nothings:
think this is tmer's
birthday at orchid.

like sardines:
my favorite one.

yo manhattan!

2007-08-27T20:34:00.000-07:00

i had my camera with me the entire time but one night. and on that one night, i saw some sickass work on the darker sides and crevices of the village that even wooster didn't document. not to mention an incredibly talented guitarist ripping-it-up at the subway station. he drew in massive crowds, no joke. no camera. sucky. maaaaaan.

let me tell you though: this place is magic.

but i love you, la.

photograph [ dan pak
streetnote [ found in germany
ill share more pictures once i find the money to develop them. new york wiped my pockets out clean. haha.

hot pickles.

2007-08-10T13:08:00.000-07:00

snack of the moment: hot mama spicy pickles.
movie of the moment: hot fuzz.
designer of the moment: phillip lim.
this guy is slowly making his way into my heart.

i am the fighting lover.

2007-08-09T08:57:00.000-07:00

i made a goal for myself, a big one, that'll help me get out of this skin that doesn't fit me. i have big bones. the thing is, it's taking forever and my patience is wearing sovery thin. i mean, i can handle pain. failure. embarrassment. i can handle anything if its there. but good lord, there's nothing in sight to feel. show me some sign of progression. some result of effort. but then again, now that i think about it, it has only been a week. wanna hear a story?

EDIT: story removed.

artist [ chris appelhans. The painting is probably my favorite out of all his pieces. He's exhibiting more, by the way, at the Nucleus Revenge of the Ninja show this Sat. It's gonna be cool.

jamaica me sad.

2007-08-01T14:17:00.000-07:00

2006. coins clink in your hand. if i had to guess, 3 quarters and 9 pennies. from the bottom up, you wear skin-tight black. black high-heeled boots hidden underneath black denim jeans with a black leather jacket to top off the ensemble. if it wasn't for your platinum blond hair, youd be a shadow. so what are you doing here, in the valley's notorious ghetto, in front of the 7-11 every morning? you are no older than thirty, although the smile you give us everytime we pass suggest years younger. and even still, i can tell what you looked like ten years ago, doll-faced with the most hopeful stare. perhaps you were from a detached south american family. perhaps your girlish fantasties pulled you away from what was real. who are you waiting for, as your overteased hairdo gets tossed in the wind? clink. clink. what is your name?

2007. if only i could have told you then what you were to become a year later. it was almost like watching a beautiful ball of yarn unravel itself across an endless floor. i still go to the 7-11 in hopes to hear a clink. sometimes, you're there. sometimes, not. and those times that you are, my heart breaks to see you slouching like that. your hair, just as lifeless as your expression. your skin, gray and creased with wrinkles. and although i don't know many things about you, i want to know who did this to you. who stole your smile and replaced it with such overwhelming and tired sadness? was it the men who pick you up each morning, tempting you with a few dollars for a piece of your innocence? was it your family? your friends? or possibly it was yourself, your own hands filling your bloodstream with evil addictions, your own ambitions that brought you here in the first place.

youre broken into too many pieces, my dear.
and i can only hope that you'll come around.

artist [ b'ast. photographer [ unknown.

oh, henri.

2007-07-23T11:25:00.001-07:00

i have become some sorta paranoid recluse as of late. i just got my harry potter and there is just no way in hell anyone's gonna ruin the ending for me this time. and that is exactly why i barely go outside. why i glare at every passing child. why i walk hunched, shifty-eyed, with occasional grunts day in and out. and since i'm such a slow reader, i'll probably end up like this for the rest of my life.

last night, henri ate a piece of the book cover.
and then left a 6-inch piece right next to it. she sucks.

artist[ mari kubota

you are who you meet.

2007-07-18T13:49:00.000-07:00

brian's birthday in june.
there are a few very important people that the camera failed to capture though. doo, for one. andrew, albert and abe, for another. oh yea, and daniel brought ninja boxing puppet and transvestite demon boxing puppet to accompany him.
say hello to the charming trio.

thinking about it now, for a girl as confused and messed as i am,
i have some down-ass company.
'specially the pouty cutie in picture no.4.
imma very lucky girl.

drama queen fiend.

2007-07-14T10:00:00.000-07:00

hello to kabel. you are the evil that resides beneath my bug bites. i mark you with a fingernail X in hopes that you will forever disappear. you are the nerve that pinches my side when a fork scratches a porcelain plate. the 1.5 second silence before a fatal car collision. the smell of a pile of hospital bed linens, soiled and stained. why are you inside my head? you are trapped and we are both doomed because of it.

last night,
Col. Mustard killed someone in the ballroom with a candlestick.

artist [ miss van

oh goody, a muse.

2007-07-04T22:39:00.001-07:00

his face is tangled in blackblack hair, but it seeks no escape. in fact, the only thing about him that wants "out" are his eyes. these eyes suggest nothing funny and nothing kind. they only dare you to stare back, only so that you can look away feeling like your soul had been eaten. alive, that is. his lips are attached to a perfect-looking cigarette. his shoelaces are untied.

where is he going? why is he going?

"why is he so important?" i ask.
luey is nearby. she smiles and it scares me.
she says: "because he is brilliant in every way imaginable."

and she is absolutely right.

he has mastered his mathematics. his sciences. his literature. his arts. but he has yet to find a place in school outside detention, and outside the school fences he jumps in one swift leap. all the kids envy. he comes home to scribble calculus equations and comic book heroes on his bedroom wall, to blast his punkrock music until the house shakes, to cover his black eyes and bruises from the fights outside. he has little to say, but a lot to think about. i guess this makes some people angry enough to throw a punch. or two or thirty. he buys a skateboard, a bike, an ugly motorcycle, an uglier car (which probably cost less than any of the previously listed items) but the damned things do nothing but bring him back home.
he has lived with the realization that life does not offer any surprises for a kid like himself. life spits in the face of geniuses. and that is why he wants to leave so bad. so veryvery bad. goodbye, school. goodbye, house. goodbye, world. he wants to say. i'll be back after my trip. if ever i wake up, that is. he wants to say.

art[ sonya palencia
she is one of the many artists whose work will be exhibited at the nucleus gallery next friday. the four here are my only favorites. hopefully, they'll be at the show. checkitout. checkitout.

peter butter and jamie.

2007-06-27T10:36:00.000-07:00

You will never see a couple more in love than Peter and Jamie. She's a few inches taller than he is, but he takes care of her. You can just tell. He holds her hand firmly, as if she'd fly away if he dare let go. He whispers in her ear and a trademark smirk endearingly urges a twinkle in his eye. She laughs. She laughs and the whole world hears it, what he whispered they'll never know. At the table, he orders mild foods because he remembers her weak stomach, and two beers because she loves the taste. While all the other couples sip their wine out of imported extravagance, Peter and Jamie chug down their beers until there's barely any left and let out stifled belches. People stare and mumble absurd things, not only because "that kind of behavior is inappropriate conduct in a refined place as this," but because they want to be Peter and Jamie. They really really really want to be Peter and Jamie, and a beer doesn't sound so bad. [dated '05]

p.s. photograph[ anonymous

titles are worthless.

2007-06-26T14:31:00.000-07:00

if ever a barrel of hair gave birth to some sort of disaster, that disaster would be me. i got a haircut this morning and it cannot be tamed. can not. will not. in knots. in arms of frizz desperate for a hat. its fantastic. it's sad.

i think ill skip class today. stained bookstore armchairs
and raunchy fashion magazines sound strangely inviting. hm!

this is my summer vacation. bowlcuts and lanvin boobs.
you are welcome to be my friend.

i b'leeve kozyndan released this for a show early this year. i really wish they made this into wallpaper so i can wallpaper everything with it. even you. you'd look darling in blue waves and gulls.

this is what it used to be.

2007-06-25T00:42:00.000-07:00

wait for the sprinklers to go off.
wait for your fifteen minutes.
wait for cereal box prizes to get better.
wait for something to wait for.

i want some damn pupusas.

what luey says, goes.

2007-06-23T09:24:00.000-07:00

it is a wonderland, this place,
with the most exceptional characters
caught up in the most intriguing situations.

for instance.

i met a girl here once with skin so transparent, you could see all of her 8 million bones. you could see her blood traveling very very fast to keep her alive. her organs were brand new. she moved like smoke ribbons- no sound, just movement- and she hummed while she talked, something i thought was impossible

until.

she whispers:
there is no life more interesting than your own.
i reply with a smirk: i really don't think so.
and then she hums: look harder.