Karaoke

is still my favorite thing.

Silk Therapy

When I was 19, I was introduced by both my housemate Tara, and my hairstylist Katie from Tonic, to a magnificent product known as Biosilk. Intended to help me make peace with my naturally curly hair, this silicone and silk based hair and skin product has a surprisingly distinct smell that, when worn, will cause hoardes of women to pause and cry out "Biosilk!" in their moment of joyous recognition. This happened to me today in Sugar Cafe: as I ordered my Americano, the girl behind me tentatively asked, "Excuse me, but are you wearing Biosilk in your hair?" And in fact, every time I use it, I'm instantly spirited back to that Spring in 2004, when I was 19 years old and scoured the local thrift stores for kid's T-shirts from which I would always cut the neck, so it hung off one shoulder, and when I used to have Michael Jackson dance parties in the living room with my housemates, and when I developed about 3 rolls of 36-frame B&W film each week, much to the dismay of my father, on whose dime I was living at the time. Since I haven't used it in awhile - I tried to wean myself off of it, and onto cheaper products, what with it costing about $20 for a bottle - it was a pleasant surprise to find that this effect hasn't yet been lost. So if tonight you see me wearing a T-shirt with the neck cut out, don't be surprised. And for those of you curious as to its effectiveness as a hair product, as opposed to a memory stimulant, let me just say that people buy that stuff by the gallon on e-Bay and the Santa Cruz drugstores could never keep it in stock. It's that good.

Beirut: not just in Lebanon!

I saw Beirut play last night at the Grand Ballroom. This was quite a feat, considering the tickets have been sold out for awhile, and I only found out about the show on Monday night. However, it's amazing what some cash slipped to a security guard in cahoots with the scalpers around the corner from the door can accomplish. In this case, it accomplished three passes for me, Lauren, and Peter (after a solid 20 minutes, however, of lingering around the front of the venue, attempting to talk down the scalper's prices and otherwise looking suspicious). And despite having to relocate ourselves in the crowd after a brief and unpleasant stint next to the drunkest people in the place, the show was amazing. I want to know how it feels to have a voice like Zach Condon. You know, the kind of voice that doesn't even need music, or even words, really. But I'm glad there is music, because I'm such a sucker for horns and ukeleles, both of which Beirut has in abundance. It's the perfect music for swaying, which is what a majority of the audience seemed to do throughout most of the show. If you've never looked out at a crowd of hundreds of people swaying blissfully, let me tell you that it's very comforting. And as an added bonus, they played not one, not two, but three encores. All in all, a satisfying experience.

A letter to Greece

Dear Greece, 

I hereby hate you until July 2nd, upon which date I expect one John Sakkis to be returned to me unharmed and very tan. 

Many thanks,

Julia

"Alls you want

is just tits in your face all day. It feels so good."

-John Sakkis

Dear American Apparel,

I am tired of your lame ads. I'd appreciate it if you could come up with a new campaign. I apologize for not championing your apparently uber-feminist real-size model schtick, but I'm sick of looking at their real-size asses hanging out of the sweatpants they're supposedly advertising. I'm not paying $60 for her ass, I'm paying $60 for the sweatpants. So it would be nice to see how they look on. Also, there's a reason most fashion photographers don't employ a hard flash against a stark background: it's unpleasant to look at it. I know you think it's novel and maybe even "street" (your claim to fame, of course, is your street cred), but it's usually just ugly. Besides, Juergen Teller did it first, for Marc Jacobs. And seriously, I feel like all of this should have gone without saying. Now, in all honesty, I doubt I'll stop buying your Deep-V Summer T's in all variety of colors, whether you change your ads or not, but it would be cool if I didn't have to see your stale crap every time I turn over a copy of Vice magazine. Okay? Thanks.

Much love,

Julia

May I please have a baby panda?

Can someone please

take me to my happy place?

K thnx.

Acquired Skills

As a girl, I subconsciously presumed that, upon reaching "woman" status, I would know how to do things like apply liquid eyeliner, glue on false eyelashes, and paint my nails. Alas, I think most people would agree I've reached said status, and yet I am not terribly good at doing these things. It would seem that the only way to be good at these things is to practice. Damn...


p.s. This color is pretty hot.

I would make

an excellent young celebrity party girl trainwreck. If only you could see up my dress. Someone call US Weekly.



However, Cole and I would also make an excellent hip new electronica duo. We're playing Mezzanine soon. Album cover:

America's Next Model You'll Never See Anywhere Besides Commercials That Run During America's Next Top Model

Well! After an intense Versace-runway face-off, Whitney won Cycle 10 of everyone's favorite reality show, making her the first plus-size winner in HISTORY. Plus-size meaning, of course, that she was blessed with, as her makeup artist put it, "the juicy booty." And should any nay-sayers cite this as a "pity vote," keep in mind that she beat out an African refugee who'd undergone female genital mutilation. So seriously, if any contestant was going to carry the pity vote, it would have been Fatima for sure. However, please forgive me for thinking that all the fuss over a plus-size winner just reinforces the idea that plus-size girls, a) are an isolated group, and b) should not normally be winners, thus when they are, it's cause for much joyous celebration. In any case, the body image of America's female youth aside, I would have been pleased had it gone either way between the final two, Whitney and Anya, despite Anya's inability to speak like a normal human being. But here's to Whitney walking in Tyra's full-figured footsteps in what is no doubt a truly historical event.

Oh, yeah, and California voided the gay marriage ban, and I think there's something going on in China.... But whatevs.

Kate Nash

So I saw Kate Nash play at the Fillmore last night, and I have a question for the audience: could she possibly get any cuter? My inclination is to say that she probably can't. If she got any cuter, there would be no cuteness left for anybody else. In any case, it was a great show on all counts. I know people like to hate on her forced Cockney accent, but I love it. She informed us that she hates seagulls, but she liked the sea lions because they reminded her of her dog. Also, she was wearing a belt with an enormous gold bow on it, but despite yelling, "Hey, lemme borrow that belt" a number of times, she did not seem to hear me.

I have a crush on Freddy Lewis

I don't really know why. He just seems like a nice guy. Also, he played really well last night, despite the fact that the rest of the Giants kind of sucked. It could also be due to the fact that our seats were in the outfield just past 3rd base, so I got to stare at him a lot.

I read this today, a.k.a. I <3 Joan Didion

So, lately I've been whipping through Joan Didion's entire body of work, which is one of the most enjoyable tasks I've undertaken in awhile. Needless to say, when you read Didion, you come across particularly great passages every few seconds or so, but this one really needed to be shared. It's from her piece Political Fictions, a collection of essays on the American political landscape, and from the particular essay "The West Wing of Oz." I think her words pretty much speak for themselves, so here they are:

"December 22, 1988

In August 1986, George Bush, traveling in his role as vice president of the United States and accompanied by his staff, the Secret Service, the traveling press, and a personal camera crew wearing baseball caps reading "Shooters, Inc." and working on a $10,000 retainer paid by a Bush PAC called the Fund for America's Future, spent several days in Israel and Jordan. The schedule in Israel included, according to reports in The Los Angeles Times and The New York Times, shoots at the Western Wall, at the Holocaust memorial, at David Ben-Gurion's tomb, and at thirty-two other locations chosen to produce camera footage illustrating that George Bush was, as Marlin Fitzwater, at that time the vice presidential press-secretary, put it, "familiar with the issues." The Shooters, Inc. crew did not go on to Jordan (there was, an official explained to The Los Angeles Times, "nothing to be gained from showing him schmoozing with Arabs"), but the Bush advance team in Amman had nonetheless directed considerable attention to improving visuals for the traveling press.

Members of the advance team had requested, for example, that the Jordanian army marching band change its uniforms from white to red. They had requested that the Jordanians, who did not have enough equipment to transport Bush's traveling press corps, borrow the necessary helicopters to do so from the Israeli air force. In an effort to assure the color of live military action as a backdrop for the vice president, they had asked the Jordanians to stage maneuvers at a sensitive location overlooking Israel and the Golan Height. They had asked the Jordanians to raise, over the Jordanian base there, the American flag. They had asked that Bush be photographed studying, through binoculars, "enemy territory," a shot ultimately vetoed by the State Department, since the "enemy territory" at hand was Israel. They had also asked, possibly the most arresting detail, that, at every stop on the itinerary, camels be present."

And now I leave you to your own devices to ponder what this has meant for the American political process ever since.

And by the way:

The Lee Friedlander exhibit was amazing, and Sunday, May 18th is the last day, so GO SEE IT.

So I went to the MoMA, and I bought a trash can.

It is pretty and biodegradable and it only cost me 15 bucks. Hurrah! But seriously, they sell some random shit in that gift shop. I also bought a yo-yo. I found this yo-yo interesting because it was designed in Italy, made in the Phillipines, and sold in the United States. Why exactly it made it to the MoMA store is beyond me, but I like it nonetheless.

p.s. "If you outlaw yo-yos, then only outlaws with have yo-yos."

It's Burma, dammit! Burma!

I do not like calling Burma "Myanmar." It feels like conceding defeat. And I don't like losing. I am thinking of this, naturally, because of the current crisis surrounding the Cyclone Nargis. Trust me, there's a connection here.

So here's the low-down on the name issue. The name was changed from Burma to Myanmar after the military junta passed the 'Adaptation of Expressions Law,' which is just one example of an extensive process of top-down political and cultural reform to which the country's citizens have been subjected. This might all seem cut-and-dry, but the issue goes a little deeper when you consider that a number of Western governments (the United States included, believe it or not) refuse to recognize the military regime ironically known as the State Peace and Development Council. Currently lead by Senior General Than Shwe, the SPDC holds its national power through pure force, has been accused of human rights abuses by a number of countries and organizations, and has driven its people into ever deeper poverty via gross economic mismanagement. It makes sense that we would not recognize a government of this nature, yes? And until now, the U.S., among many others, has stubbornly refused to use the name Myanmar, continuing instead to call it Burma.

Until NOW.


It's been six days since Cyclone Nargis hit, but the military government is still preventing large-scale foreign relief efforts. Aid drops from the air, typically one of the most effective means of distribution, would require permission from the Myanmar military junta. So although plane-loads of relief supplies have been offered from governments around the world, they continue to sit in airports, unused, while Burmese officials remain reluctant to cooperate with the outside world. Most people are without shelter. There is no power, and in most areas, no clean drinking water and no food. Outbreaks of diarrhea and malaria are now being reported in many areas, as can only be expected in circumstances involving large amounts of stagnant water and a lack of drinking water. And naturally, as is being reported by Richard Bridle, a Deputy Regional Director of UNICEF, young children are going to bear the brunt of these disease outbreaks, meaning the death toll can be expected to continue climbing steadily. There is no way of predicting when the SPDC will allow substantial foreign aid, or how many people will die before they do.

So I ask you: does this seem like an appropriate time for every media outlet from the New York Times to the PBS News Hour With Jim Lehr to start wussing out and calling it Myanmar? Because in my mind, this seems like a pretty good time to insist on calling it Burma.

But I guess that's just me.

I don't know this guy, but...

he makes some cool art.


His name is Grant. Here's his website.

Also, he will be in a show soon, hosted by my dear friend Deli, on Saturday May 10th.

You should definitely come to this show, since there will be rad art and zines and cupcakes and none of the pieces will cost more than 50 bonez.


Please do not forget to bring your party hats. I mean, hatz. K thnx.