book/blog/book/blog

Yo.

My first ever post on the Nylon Blog is up! Please check out-
NYLON BLOG
(it's under= " It is what it is")

I promise I'm not cheating on you guys. I just need a new place to rant and rave about all things superficial and intensely LA.

In the meantime, before I blog about "real" things. I want this book so bad!

Bizarre Books: A Compendium of Classic Oddities by Russel Ash and Brian Lake

via notcot.org

geo

These days, I’m all about geometry. I’m visually picking out lines and parabolas, as if someone has replaced my contacts with grids. Someone should actually- it might be kind of trippy and fun. Or I might just vomit. In any case, geometric figures and shapes are jumping out at me at all angles (no pun intended). Or maybe my eyesight has been giving out.


Henrik Vibskov scarf via Shop Fatal


Botryka exhibition via via Mediumism


From a very cool ETSY store this store

Any other cool pics out there for me to drool over?

Eventful: Weekends

The last weekend and this recent one have been memorable. I channeled my inner music-loving epicurean and neither the music nor the food disappointed. In fact, I may have caught the best show- ever-at Chop Suey in Seattle.

First came the eponymous Boris (in SEATTLE), the band that will always have a place in my heart, despite how many times they've come close to blowing out my eardrums. Lucky for me, I was able to jumpstart my SEATTLE experience by heading to their show straight from the airport. Though the general mood at the venue was a little dour at first, Boris killed it the minute they stepped on stage. The crowd refrained from showing signs of emotion at first, which was best depicted by a woman gripping her coffee (yes, I said COFFEE) mug with trembling fingers. Midway through the performance, people started to loosen up, throwing up the universal sign of rock n' roll (the devil's horns) and vigorously beating the air with their fists. However, no crowdsurfers that night. Much to my delight, the band played most tracks off PINK. The music was amplified by the lead singer's slightly phallic dual bass/guitar piece and the female guitarist's intense playing. The drummer's perfect, blank stares into the audience was a little creepy, but I'm sure we looked like a mass of light from where he was.

Here's a little peak of what I saw that night.


So the next best thing to that was the Black Lips' Echoplex performance last night which was really exciting for the first 20 minutes they played. Mind you, they were only on stage for 20 minutes. The show was cut short after some jerk in the audience threw a beer bottle on stage. But before the Black Lips chewed us out for being rude, they were amazing! Their Chuck Berry-esque rhythm is paired harmoniously with psych-y guitar work, which reminded me of Marty McFly's " Johnny Be Good" performance at his parent's high school dance, one of my favorite scenes from Back to the Future. Ok, maybe that was a terrible comparison, but I can't help it that I associate that movie with everything in my life-

What was (but without the irritating 15 year old's moshing and spitting at the band)


Try playing both at once. Just kidding.

Heart

I started to hibernate and avoid my blogging duties recently but was lured back to the web after bumping into Esther Kim at a Ladies Lotto event. Esther, whose website is so fun to browse through, just moved back to LA from Japan and has been doing big things with her illustration. Funny that we'd never met in person until that night (we were xanga-buddies), despite the fact that I went to school with her equally-as-talented brother Daniel. Which reminds me, I need to give this chick a call.



One of my faves- via Esther Loves You

Seattle: Livin' the good life.

It's bizarre how underrated the Seattle restaurant/dining scene is. In the scope of things, it's definitely no San Francisco and certainly not competitive with New York's bounty of fine fare. But Seattle has it's own "flava" and flair, no doubt.

how it all began
My weekend getaway could not have happened at a more ideal time. Seattlelites were bathing in sunlight. I expected torrents of rain but God's smile was upon me all weekend. He knew I would be bringing strappy shoes and those beauties would not have had wet pavement at all. (Stop rolling your eyes! They're vintage!)
And while I'm sure there is much to do and see in Seattle, I spent most of my vacation chowing down. A whole day was devoted to combing through Pike Place Market for the "bests" and the "tastiests". From the spicy macaroni & cheese from Beecher's to the unforgettable catfish sandwich from Matt's in the Market, I was eating my way to a clogged artery. Three inches around the waist later, I am a Seattle Foodie-virgin no longer. I was bent over and spanked hard by all that good grub.

observations
Thanks to modern marvels such as the Internet and Fed Ex, we are drowning in cultural homogeneity. You're getting the same kind of juice from every orange. Prior to my visit, I expected almost a rare breed of Northwesterners- the kind I remember from the 90's music videos- flannel shirt-scraggly facial hair-wearing grunge kids who love music to a fault, endemic only in a place with this many trees and lakes. And while they do love their coffee and their music, I didn't hear or drink anything unfamiliar. Call me provincial, but I wanted the shock value. The same kind I felt when stepping onto Broadway in NYC for the first time 7 years ago. Instead, I was mostly impressed but not shocked. I didn't even come up on obscure Seattle bands, because most of them I've read about on various blogs. I went to a bar and it reeked of Los Angeles/New York hipsters. Damn you Cobra Snake.

But what I did find unique in Seattle was everything indigenous and natural. Lake Wash was beautiful and I mentioned TREES right? All along the freeways, there were trees. The fish was so fresh, I felt it swimming in my stomach. And the gorgeous seasonal fruits and veggies made me a little jealous. I want cheeks that red! These alone startled my senses and heightened my need for fresh air. These are things the internet can never convey! After all, the whole point of an experience is to experience it.

go for the gold

A trip to my dentist and a stumble across this website happened all in one day. And the culmination of my accomplishments (yes, finally getting my teeth examined is quite a feat!) is this fun piece of gold below. Designed by Kiel Mead, this 14k gold retainer necklace is cast by hand and what I wish I had to wear after my braces came off. Although, I did accidentally throw mine away in the high school lunchroom.



$300 from Areaware

project clean-up

I'm trying to whittle down the amount of garbage- I mean decor- in my room. So far, I've sold/donated/gave away grab bags worth of clothing. Unfortunately, I've still got a long road ahead. If only I could pull myself away from my bed, away from my laptop. If you see something you want, name a price. I'm trying to save up for my tooth implantation. Just kidding.

"Edited by David Blamey. Essays by Rosie Thomas, Patricia Uberoi, Sara Dickey, Emily King, M.S.S. Pandian and Christopher Pinney.

This charming book of Indian film posters offers the uninitiated a window into the sub-continent's famously over-the-top movie industry, and for those who know it well, there is a wide selection of classic and little-known material. Posters from smaller production outposts in Tahttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifmil Nadu and Kerela appear alongside their more glamorous Bombay cousins, and contemporary work alongside archetypal images from what's thought of as Bollywood's golden age. Street photographs show the art in situ, while essays addressing it from anthropological, sociological and design perspectives put it in broader context as a visually charismatic key to the politics, history and beliefs of India."



"Edited by Trevor Schoonmaker.~Essays by Olu Oguibe, Yomi Durotoye, Vivien Goldman, Moyo Okediji and Michael E. Veal. ~Poetry by Sharon Strange.

Crowned the king of Afrobeat and dubbed the Black President, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti was a master performer, composer and voice of the oppressed. The Nigerian musician and activist invented an infectious new musical genre called Afrobeat, combining American funk and jazz with traditional Yoruba and highlife music to end up with a sound that doubled as a weapon for justice. Troubled by the state of Nigerian society, he assembled and built his Kalakuta Republic and created his own political party, actions which saw him arrested, imprisoned and beaten by the police and military--but Fela was so influential in Nigerian cultural and political life that even they flocked to his funeral to pay respect to their fallen hero. This book features a diverse range of artists who continue to be inspired by Fela's artistic genius and dedication to justice and equality: from visual practitioners like Sanford Biggers, Sokari Douglas Camp, Kendell Geers, Alfredo Jaar, Moshekwa Langa, Olu Oguibe, Yinka Shonibare and Kara Walker to musicians, rappers and DJs. Accompanying essays consider Fela's influence on his musical contemporaries and on an international array of visual artists, Fela as African Blaxploitation hero, and Fela's music in the context of the Nigerian political situation and contemporary activist art. Also included are an updated version of a seminal 1980s article on Fela, a fiction-driven story that reconstructs the last six months of Fela's life, and a poem that deals with Fela's influence on the poet's conception of Africa."

Can someone buy this for me? Via The D.A.P. Catalog

One last quickie before I stop nerding out on the computer-
(my backwards attempt to design an invite to Paul's farewell dinner- he didn't have one of course so this is incomplete!)

I am going to Seattle on Thursday. I plan on doing the following:

Savor Seattle
Seattle Art Museum
and a quick bite at Taste
for some cheese at le pichet via Orangette
Justice (again!)
after Boris of course
and a little Black Lips over at Sonic Boom in between

And don't worry. There will be plenty of kisses and cuddling to top it all off!

Interior Decoration A to Z by Betty Pepis c. 1965

Following the footsteps of my favorite people/bloggers, I too will periodically post photos of some favorites of my vintage book collection. I am a notorious thrift-store /estate sale scavenger and have been since my early high school days. You can imagine the ungodly amount of random knickknacks I've acquired. And in true packrat fashion, a lot of my best finds get shoved in a corner of my room, wearing coats of dust. Time to start cleaning out-

This book I found at a random thrift store in south LA. 90 cents I believe it was. I have a weakness for design books, especially the ones from the early to late sixties. I avoid the eighties at all cost, especially since I lived through horrid days of lightening bolt-all over print couches. In this "tome", Betty Pepis defines relevant interior design terms and applies them to everyday decorating. I've definitely found inspiration for my own room makeover. But more on that later.

Stone(d)

stone roses - I wanna be adored
I like any band with a "St0ne" in its name. I love the Rolling Stones, hell I even liked the Stone Temple Pilots at one point. But you know what 90's "Stone" band did it for me? The Stone Roses. I especially love this song. And I can't get over how psychedelic-slash-trippy the video is. At one point, Ian Brown is letting the microphone dangle lifelessly, like he's some kind of grunge god. And he is!


Enjoy-

An official e. e. cummings remix

Cool.

office clutter

This is my day in a life of a food magazine-editor's sanctuary. Clutter.

Me and Paul Wired NextFest 2007, digitally dating.

This is what I call a helping hand.

A long time ago, I thought I didn't like Justice. In fact, I avoided any intimate space where I'd hear the echoing cries "WE- Are- YOUR- FRIENDS"-yaddah-yaddah. Then, D.A.N.C.E suddenly hit the airwaves (or netwaves, what have you) and I officially pumped my proverbial fist in the air, fervently denying any Justice tolerance in my car, ipod, Saturday nights. Then a trip to the Bay came along and my boo Paul convinced me to drop by a "happenin" concert at the Mezzannine where the aforementioned band was doin its thang-thang. Being the bullheaded brat I am, I writhed in pain, kicking and screaming my way into NOT going, only to be won over by Paul's promise of immediate arrival and an even speedier departure. We were met with door issues (like, not getting in) and a slight drizzle that to me at the time, felt like a thunderstorm. And did I forget to mention that I was much too sober? With not a sip of brew in me, I think I was the crabbiest concert-goer that night, and quite possibly the most annoying human being ever. Suffice to say, that concert experience soured quickly for me, and especially for Paul.

Fast forward one year and I am suddenly at crossroads with la musica de Justice yet again. On one hand, I vaguely remember a pretty decent DJ set at the Mezzanine. On the other, the soul-sucking sound of what appears to be a children's choir singing "WE- ARE- YOUR- FRIENDS..." has got my head spinning (the kind where you really want to throw up after). But there was this party (and so it starts-) and Justice was spinning at it. With my friend Sascha in tow, I go.




The party was fun, thanks to good company. But the most unexpected of all happened. The French duo spun and I was blown away! Their set qualified as one of the best I've seen–their music selection was diverse. As a person conditioned to hate and criticize, I really really tried to. But with one hand in the air and my feet doing weird things, I knew that game recognized game. After all, they made me dance and not writhe! I didn't even mind the oafish man wearing a big sweaty coat who rudely slipped in front of my view. I was pretty happy. (Oh, I did have a beer then- I guess that helped too)

Summer of Love exhibit 2007, the Whitney in NY

These days, I am in a time warp. I feel like I'm living in another era. My boyfriend moved to Seattle two days ago and I am the newborn, feeling my way through life. Here's to new beginnings. More to come.