γνῶθι σεαυτόν

Jeremy Scott is ill. No news that his threads = alluring x beautiful x subversive + cosmopolitan to the maxxx, but any creative who is not afraid to get down with the eighteenth century in a post-modern context is automatically right up ma street.

Once upon a time, a truly magical thing happened to me on the streets of San Francisco. While walking down Sutter St at about 1am, Marieke and I chanced upon a strange man leaning on a lamp-post, profilin in a tux and leather pants. He had a very feminine voice, but in a Queen Latifah kinda way. At the time, we had absolutely no idea that this encounter would prove to be the most surreal and brilliant moment in our lives (along with San P and Politico). The man was on a gold pushbike which Marieke mounted immediately and rode a for a while alongside me and the guy. He walked with us for a little bit before Marieke fell off his bike into the road. Big girls should know not to cycle when there’s Orange Crush involved! Eventually we said our goodbyes to this strange apparition and he cycled off, his wheels reclaimed. Marieke and I went into a club underneath the sidewalk where out of boredom, we danced like maniacs to really terrible DnB. When we emerged from the club’s dark depths, there was his face again! We chatted some more for a while, but didn’t really get anywhere. Then rieks and I got into a cab and left him. He ran after our cab shouting something clearly nonsensical about pills.After a few more relatively minor adventures, we ended up in a gay bar doing a conga line with about 5 denim-clad, middle aged cowgirls. They really appreciated our energy. Then we worked up even more of a sweat running all the way back to California St. I guess you really had to be there, but the point is, it really was like a dream! Especially because the only sentences the man would utter were along the lines of:

• You guys are really weird.
• You guys are so arrogant!
• I don’t like you guys.
• You guys are great!
• I love you guys

Needless to say S.F is fucking crazy and I can’t wait to go back! Even when you’re not doing anything cool or out of the ordinary, the jokes will hunt you down and kill you. XO

L.L: Gone to a better place, Roska status.

Lindsay Lohan’s freckles have become a kind of unconscious synecdoche. Those of us who believe that the fixed categories of sexuality offered up by the twentieth century cannot be aligned to the true human experience should recognize something very important in her queer identity. The reality that has seeped into her already decaying self-fabrication is arguably even more radical than she is given credit for. Her homosexual relationship does not signify anti-erotic exploration, as is generally associated with commercialized girl-on-girl sexuality. Rather, the mainstream exposure her and Samantha have received as result of their celebrity, shockingly seems to demonstrate nothing more than the conventional nuances of any other paparazzi-dogged Hollywood couple. The exposure itself has been typically insubstantial. America has beautiful way with denial and can cling to it forever in relation to its sweethearts. Through narcotic addictions, grave criminal convictions, and virtually any other scandal (except maybe with the exception of weight gain or a bad haircut) America will postpone the true acceptance of its starlet flaws. But the way Lindsay and Sam are finally becoming seamlessly incorporated into the tabloid roundup of supposedly declining or thriving relationships signifies progress. It initiates a vital change in perceptions of human sexuality and the fluidity that essentially defines it. Would Onch Movement have been allowed a chance to become Paris Hilton’s new bff, even five years ago? My opinion is that no, he/she certainly wouldn’t. If Hollywood is starting fundamentally to respect and represent forms of existence that lie outside the normative categories of its culture, then different levels of acceptance surely should begin to resonate across the more globally isolated regions of the States.

The silence that accompanies the myriad pictures of Paris Hilton engaging in “lesbian” activity does not mean that America is down with poststructuralist theories of gender and sexuality. What a funny idea! Homoerotic exposure of this nature is always shrouded in a stigma of pornography based around male enjoyment. Although it is extremely clear that the vulgarity of images such as these cannot be associated with love, lesbian or otherwise, they are still representations of something that rarely gets properly voiced in the mainstream media. I think that Lindsay, more than her girl (whose lack of significant cultural contribution and overtly Dior Homme/Chad Muska “dykey” image makes her less considerable) deserves a major acknowledgement, even though apparently she’s a crazy bitch.

S-G-Q by stroudgreenqueens

My Nitty knows how I like to procrastinate on my dissertation…

HAHA, I think mac-sessed MGW would make a good testimony, although we’re all tragically mac-sessed at 3tG.

We all know the term “Renaissance” is a problematic slippery slope, but the National’s Renaissance Faces exhibition ends on January 18th and it’s worth a trip down town. Don’t expect this exhibition to take you very far temporally (it ends somewhere in the early seventeenth century) but it’s certainly breathtaking to see the sublimity of these legacies up close. My favorite is Lomardo’s “A Young Couple” (Bacchus and Ariadne) crafted between 1505 and 1510. Those curls are so beautiful in the flesh. Hold tight Greena for coming with me.

Kim-Ann and Nomi are both so hot they give me da butterflyz. I just wish I hadn’t been so fruity when finally in their sacred presence.

FIGURE #2: MICHEL FOUCAULT

Keenly aware of the fluidity of social identities, this 6.5″ Michel Foucault waves his baton in poststructuralist style at all challenges. Shrouded in a special removeable French cloak and with a built-in thoughtful head movement, this superb action figure is essential for both professional philosophers and junior postmodernists.

The vid is too much. Kyla’s sequin hoodie dress is tdf though, I want it now please. The baitness is humanized a little by the surprising interracial love-scene. In fact, I love the rainbow nature of the channel U videos in general. Although U.S Hip-Hop booty bitches have always come in all colors, it’s really just the booty that’s variable. These videos lack that conscious comodification of the epidermic rainbow, in all its kaleidoscopic forms. Anyway, I ain’t shamed to say I love this tune and it’s not leavin my bag any time soon. Big up Bunny on this one, this video makes me think of you at Tenjune.

p.s–is this what a “real funky night” (lol Boomnoise) looks like? I hear Ayia Napa calling…