Photoset
June 03, 2012
2 notes

Tonight I’m going to see one of the most important bands of the 90’s, the Dandy Warhols, for my 3rd time and I can’t wait to drool all over myself again because they’re kind of a big deal.

This is totally going to be one of those shows that I already know is going to be amazing, so I don’t even actually have to go, I am so sure it’s going to be that great. But I’m going to dig out my old Dandies tshirt and despite being hung over after last night’s festivities, chug my 2nd coconut water, slap on some leather and rock the fuck out.

In case you’ve been living under a rock and haven’t cultured yourself on the 90’s, which is by the way one of the most important musical eras ever, the Dandies are this adorable heroin chic, glamourously grungy rock’n’roll band from Portland, Oregon. Somehow, amidst all their shooting and snorting and smoking they’ve managed to put out 8 pretty solid albums that make you feel really cool when you to them, I promise.

Their front man, Courtney Taylor Taylor (CTT to the really heavy fans) is a total dreamboat, if you’re into that sort of thing (which I totally am).

Sure, he’s aged pretty roughly considering the 17 odd years of rocking out and heavy drug use, but I swear it just gives him character. One time Courtney shaved a mohawk on his head and another time he had dreads. Usually, he just looks like he needs a good scrubbing. It all works.
And sure, he looks like he hasn’t showered like, ever but he somehow makes it look super glam.

Go watch Dig! immediately, it’s a doc about the Dandies and my other favorite mid-America drug rock band, the Brian Jonestown Massacre, following the 2 groups together over 7 years as they go from being besties to pretty much hating each other and making incredible music on the way while drinking a bunch of Jack and wearing vintage fur coats. It’s really glam in a totally down to earth way.

Here are some pics of Courtney, looking super hot.

Tags: The Dandy Warhols Courtney Taylor Taylor

Photo
June 03, 2012
Blue skies in the city.

Blue skies in the city.

Photo
June 02, 2012
I don’t want to put a bee in anyone’s bonnet but since the weather has been especially bitchy the last few days I have half a mind to take my aggression on something, and today it happens to be my keyboard (and the nice Rogers customer relations rep that just took a verbal beating from me succumbing to a $60 refund. I used to ream Rogers for a lot more than that. Maybe I’m getting rusty. Anyway.) Today I’m going to bitch about online dating. You do it. I do it. Your single mom does it, so does the hot guy at your gym and people are actually starting to talk about it. I’ve gone out with 3 people I met online, 2 of which I can consider mildly successful (mildy because they were shortlived. One of them didn’t like the Beatles, a TOTAL deal breaker, and the other one seemed perfect but I can’t force chemistry. The unsuccessful date didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, judged me and made me split a $14 tab. He was 36 FYI). I would say my biggest issue is going out with someone who you know REALLY wants to date you without actually knowing who you really are. It’s a desperate eagerness I can’t get past no matter how hot/interesting/compatible this totally perfect stranger is. What is my deal?? My attractive and cool friends all over the place are finding their soulmates online and I am being a picky bitch. Coincidentally I am also completely offended by meeting guys: a) at bars b) at clubs c) at the grocery store d) in the elevator of my building e) in the elevator of someone else’s building Unfortunately my dream spots of finding someone at a used book store or art gallery are always crushed because no one reads or looks at art anymore. How do you guys do it??? Am I supposed to lower my standards significantly? Do share. More importantly, how did Mick and Bianca meet?? I know Jerry had his balls in a way tighter lock but I was always partial Bianca. Why is rock’n’roll romance dead? I was born in the wrong era.

I don’t want to put a bee in anyone’s bonnet but since the weather has been especially bitchy the last few days I have half a mind to take my aggression on something, and today it happens to be my keyboard (and the nice Rogers customer relations rep that just took a verbal beating from me succumbing to a $60 refund. I used to ream Rogers for a lot more than that. Maybe I’m getting rusty. Anyway.)

Today I’m going to bitch about online dating. You do it. I do it. Your single mom does it, so does the hot guy at your gym and people are actually starting to talk about it.

I’ve gone out with 3 people I met online, 2 of which I can consider mildly successful (mildy because they were shortlived. One of them didn’t like the Beatles, a TOTAL deal breaker, and the other one seemed perfect but I can’t force chemistry. The unsuccessful date didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, judged me and made me split a $14 tab. He was 36 FYI).

I would say my biggest issue is going out with someone who you know REALLY wants to date you without actually knowing who you really are. It’s a desperate eagerness I can’t get past no matter how hot/interesting/compatible this totally perfect stranger is. What is my deal??

My attractive and cool friends all over the place are finding their soulmates online and I am being a picky bitch.

Coincidentally I am also completely offended by meeting guys:
a) at bars
b) at clubs
c) at the grocery store
d) in the elevator of my building
e) in the elevator of someone else’s building

Unfortunately my dream spots of finding someone at a used book store or art gallery are always crushed because no one reads or looks at art anymore.

How do you guys do it??? Am I supposed to lower my standards significantly? Do share.

More importantly, how did Mick and Bianca meet?? I know Jerry had his balls in a way tighter lock but I was always partial Bianca.

Why is rock’n’roll romance dead?
I was born in the wrong era.

Tags: dating

Photo
June 01, 2012
1 note
Kurt Cobain’s Journals. (Taken with instagram)

Kurt Cobain’s Journals. (Taken with instagram)

Photoset
May 30, 2012
3 notes

Eric Guillemain shoots Karl Lagerfeld for the July issue of Vogue Japan.

Tags: Karl Lagerfeld Vogue Japan Eric Guillemain

Photo
May 27, 2012
128 notes

(via whenthugzcry)

Photoset
May 26, 2012
5 notes

Happy birthday, Stevie Nicks, who turns 64 today.
What a wonderful gift you gave to the world when you were born.

Tags: stevie nicks

Video
May 25, 2012

Remember this?

Photoset
May 24, 2012
8 notes

Happy birthday Bob Dylan, you wonderful legend.

Tags: Bob Dylan

Photo
May 24, 2012
30 notes
“Style Icon: John Updike” One of the greatest American authors of the 20th century was also one of the most subtly stylish. If you’ve ever imagined being a writer—superficially at least, with all the accolades and trappings and black-and-white photographs for posterity—there is a good chance you imagined being John Updike. The master of American realism, in producing his definitive portrayals of “the American Protestant small-town middle class,” also defined our most enviable image of the postwar author: the gregarious, urbane, usually male stalwart, with his typewriters and cigarettes and love of nautical sweaters. From Pennsylvania to Harvard to New York, before spending the remainder of his life in the coastal village of Ipswich, Massachusetts, Updike epitomized the kind of graceful, slightly soured Americana that suffused the uncertain decades in which he wrote. While he ended up worlds apart from his most famous character—Rabbit Angstrom, linotype operator and car salesman—he is exactly the sort of man we’d imagine creating him. Updike would probably never have called himself a “stylish” man, but what we see in him isn’t style as affectation, or fashion, or meticulous attention to the fluff of one’s pocket squares. Rather, it is a style conveyed through life, the product rather than the source of all his talent and success and seemingly limitless capacity for heartwrenchingly beautiful prose—prose that this writer could never hope to approximate, so he will let the master’s words (and photos) do the talking: In the early Sixties, Updike rented a small office in Ipswich, where he spent his days writing and smoking nickel cigarillos. And he writes about that time, half-humbly: “I felt that I was packaging something as delicately pervasive as smoke, one box after another, in that room, where my only duty was to describe reality as it had come to me—to give the mundane its beautiful due.” (text taken from GQ.com)

“Style Icon: John Updike”
One of the greatest American authors of the 20th century was also one of the most subtly stylish.

If you’ve ever imagined being a writer—superficially at least, with all the accolades and trappings and black-and-white photographs for posterity—there is a good chance you imagined being John Updike. The master of American realism, in producing his definitive portrayals of “the American Protestant small-town middle class,” also defined our most enviable image of the postwar author: the gregarious, urbane, usually male stalwart, with his typewriters and cigarettes and love of nautical sweaters. From Pennsylvania to Harvard to New York, before spending the remainder of his life in the coastal village of Ipswich, Massachusetts, Updike epitomized the kind of graceful, slightly soured Americana that suffused the uncertain decades in which he wrote. While he ended up worlds apart from his most famous character—Rabbit Angstrom, linotype operator and car salesman—he is exactly the sort of man we’d imagine creating him.

Updike would probably never have called himself a “stylish” man, but what we see in him isn’t style as affectation, or fashion, or meticulous attention to the fluff of one’s pocket squares. Rather, it is a style conveyed through life, the product rather than the source of all his talent and success and seemingly limitless capacity for heartwrenchingly beautiful prose—prose that this writer could never hope to approximate, so he will let the master’s words (and photos) do the talking: In the early Sixties, Updike rented a small office in Ipswich, where he spent his days writing and smoking nickel cigarillos. And he writes about that time, half-humbly: “I felt that I was packaging something as delicately pervasive as smoke, one box after another, in that room, where my only duty was to describe reality as it had come to me—to give the mundane its beautiful due.”

(text taken from GQ.com)

(Source: GQ, via gqfashion)

Tags: John Updike GQ

Photoset
May 23, 2012
3,179 notes

latimes:

Beverly Hills Hotel marks 100 years: Still billed as a discreet retreat for stars, the hotel is at the center of Hollywood’s concept of itself. And like the celebrities it serves, it has a public face and a private one.

Holy wow, these photos.

Photos, clockwise from top: (1) Faye Dunaway. Credit: Terry O’Neill / Getty Images. (2) Rita Hayworth. Credit: Hulton Archive / Getty Images. (3) Marilyn Monroe. Credit: Beverly Hills Collection

Photo
May 23, 2012
402 notes
“I’d just like to thank all the reptiles who gave their lives for this jacket.” - Mick Jagger

“I’d just like to thank all the reptiles who gave their lives for this jacket.” - Mick Jagger

(via keeflepuff)

Photo
May 23, 2012
Vintage cobra. (Taken with instagram)

Vintage cobra. (Taken with instagram)

Photoset
May 23, 2012
8,197 notes

staceythinx:

As a former surfer, Paul Bobko had plenty of time to observe waves of all shapes and forms. It was during this time that he found his inspiration for his series Water Landscapes-Suspended Energy. 

About the project:

In his magnum opus, Gravity’s Rainbow, Thomas Pynchon introduces us to the German concept of Brenschluss in the telemetry of the flight of the V2 rocket. The rocket is propelled by its engines and travels along its parabolic arc. At a certain point the engines turn off, this flameout is called brenschluss. At brenschluss the rocket’s ascendancy is checked by gravity, and before it begins to fall to its target on earth, it hesitates for just a moment. After this moment gravity and momentum alone, not a rocket engine, define the inexorable trajectory of descent to its inevitable, calamitous end.

So to do Paul Bobko’s Water Landscapes-Suspended Energy photographs allow us to see that very moment of hesitation when the force of nature that is the ocean wave, ceases to be propelled by the surging forces of the ocean floor. The ocean suddenly lets go and sets it free, it hesitates at this moment of release, then crashes on the shore, liberated, but spent. Bobko shows us this very moment of hesitation, before the explosion. The outline of the explosion is clear and coming, but it hasn’t happened yet, it is, as yet, prelude…the power is still coiled in the curl, frozen for this second. Light comes glowing through that watery tunnel, foam is leaping from its crest, escaping and ecstatic. The menace is limned in the terrifying flexing of its form. It is most exhilarating to see the noun become the verb.

(via onetemp0raryescape)

Photoset
May 23, 2012
1,943 notes

ianbrooks:

Nature-Altered Books by Rachel Ashe

Books hold a lot more than just words and sometimes all you need is a pair of scissors and some mad folding skills to unlock the hidden images within. It’s also where a lot of owls hide, apparently. 

Artist: website / flickr / etsy (via: mymodernmet)