His skin once firm
Stretched over frail bones
Now like dough
My prison on display
As his silently exists
Only noticed by the ones who feel him
And never say a word.
My dad is the master of texting me when people die. More often than not it’s a celebrity, and he informs me bluntly, yet with a sympathetic concern as he knows that I deal with death in a strange and sensitive way. Even if I never personally knew the people. He won’t tell me that people are in the hospital unless he knows for certain they’re not coming back out, as he knows death affects me a bit differently than others.
I have what I myself consider a type of disconnect from people. It’s strange because I thought for so long that I wanted to feel connected to people, but now as an older version of my younger self, I see that it was more of the opposite. I claimed that no one understood me, but really it was more like I didn’t understand them and my ego kept me from even trying because time is energy and I’m drained of all that. So I put my faith and admiration to idols that I would never meet and never have to go through that “inevitable” disappointment with.
I blame my father for everything. I kid, but really it was partially his fault for giving me music. He didn’t create any, but he shared his collection with me. Not many 3-year-old kids know all the words to every song on Appetite for Destruction, but I sure did. I can’t thank him enough. It was these albums that helped me feel connected to the world. Maybe not Guns N’ Roses, specifically, but I remember wanting to listen to his Adam and the Ants records on repeat and that obviously left a mark.
As I got older, I branched out on my own into the eclectic realm of modern music. Nirvana Nevermind was my first CD (but for those keeping cred points, I did have Bleach on cassette), and it was bought after much persistence as my dad blames Kurt for the death of Hair Metal. He’s not wrong. I remember him saying “Music is supposed to be fun!” and I was like “Life is pain.” or something trite and full of spiteful angst.
At a certain point, we began to merge back to mutual appreciation of certain artists and albums. Soundgarden was one of them. I remember when he bought Superunkown and we would listen to it while doing homework (I was in grade school and Dad was finsihing his Bachelor’s) in the living room of our old duplex in Desert Hot Springs. I also learned about Kurt Cobain’s suicide in that duplex. Also got my first period there, too! Just some fun FYI.
When dad texted me this morning to let me know about Chris Cornell’s passing, I was instantly shook. Did not see that coming. And we exchanged some sad emojis, and we both agreed he was one of the best singers in rock history and an amazing performer (We both were able to see Soundgarden, but unfortunately not together). Later today while I was getting ready for my day listening to Soundgarden with the rest of the grungy goths of the world, I felt a small flutter of peace knowing how lucky I am to have a dad that knew how I felt. He was as bummed as me. He understood finding inspiration in Chris and being really sad that he was gone. There may be a lot of disadvantages for having teenage parents, but I’m grateful. My dad gets me. And he’s sad about Chris Cornell, too. And he was sad about Bowie, of course. And Prince. I don’t know if there’s a lot of people who can bond over the affect that rock stars have had on their life with their parents, but I think it’s pretty special that I can. I mean, at least my dad. My mom’s favorite KISS member is Peter Criss, and I think that says enough in itself.
For the record, my dad supported Audioslave as a band way before I did, so sometimes your dad does know what he’s talking about. But he also hates The Cure, so, you can’t always be right.
To be quite honest, I refrain from blogging mostly because I find myself talking about myself, or my interests and I worry that sometimes they might not appeal to my audience. However, after much reflection, I’ve decided to do it anyway. As an introvert with anxiety and depression, it’s easier for me to speak here than to a person in the flesh. I hope that’s cool?
Accidentally fell upon a Korean marketplace in Anaheim while looking for a record store. Apparently, all of them are seriously gone, by the way. We tried to get to two different record stores and both were no more. In this market, I found a cosmetic counter that carried this brand that I personally have never heard of called Peripera. Honestly, I chose this based on the cute packaging. I’m kind of an easy sell on cute stuff.
The tint is very watery, and it’s kind of annoying because in my case, it seeped into my mouth and feathered a bit on my upper lip. It tastes icky, but not enough to never wear it again. However, the tint dries quickly and stays on well. It also shows up great, as you can see in the photo above. The lower left is without any product on my lips, and the lower right is with just the stain on.
I like a more bold lip, so I intend to use this stain under some red liner and lipstick for a cherry red lip. I do like how the stain sets and brings a nice, soft red color to my lips. Underneath a balm, it looks like I have naturally rose-colored lips, like so much Snow White.
I found this product for $10. You can get it on eBay from $7-$12.
Oops. I’ve been terrible at keeping this site alive and active. I could come up with various excuses, and most would be valid, but really who gives a shit? I’m here now, my sweet babies. If you even noticed I was gone to begin with. *Cue teenage angst*
For the first few years this blog has been an archive of gothy lifestyle fashions and trends. I want to keep that going, but I also want to just blog about life, death, love and music in a completely opinionated perspective. I want to be the Lena Dunham of goth culture, but with way less unnecessary truths and uneducated political views. Dude, would Kylo Ren be like a goth version of Adam Sackler? Sorry, Girls tangent. Anyway, I guess that’s all I wanted to say for now.
Geesh, that title sounds like it’s more common to unlike him. That is probably not the case, speaking from personal experience most people don’t even know who he is by name when I mention him. I have to list characters in movies he’s portrayed, and sometimes (more often than I’d like to admit) I have to correct them when they confuse him for Michael Cera. Which brings up a valid question: If most people I’ve talked to about Jesse Eisenberg can’t tell him and Michael Cera apart, why do I find that comparison an annoyance and why do I have little to no interest in Michael Cera’s endeavours?
My boyfriend says he knows why I like him. He also relentlessly harasses me for my intrigue into him, which I don’t think peaks his jealousy as much as his confusion as to why it’s Jesse Eisenberg. At dinner the other night, upon realizing that Jesse has written plays and has a new book coming out this week and I was very excited to check them out, my boyfriend said some smart-ass quip and I was quick to point a finger at him from across the table and boldly state (without so much of a raised voice, but a very deep stare) that Jesse was now considered holy terrain in our relationship and he was now required to “back off” of teasing me about him. Not because I feel like Jesse would be offended or anything, but because I was thoroughly annoyed with people, especially someone I love dearly and respect, not seeing what I see. My boyfriend says I like Jesse because he plays characters I relate to, and that his nervous qualities reflect my own traits of anxiety. This is what triggered my post. Is that why I like Jesse? Because I narcissistically see myself in him?
Granted, there’s not much comparison between us. If you out the two of us together and had our resumes out, I assure you it would take a good few minutes to find one thing you could see in common. I don’t dream of a world where I marry him. I don’t even know the guy. I met him once during a promotional event in San Francisco where he and Aziz Ansari served us pizza. I took a photo with him and I think I nervously held his hand, which is kind of embarrassing as I’m sure no person wants to hold hands with some blue-haired girl they just met as part of their media tour. Anyway, I never met him again after that, so I don’t really have much of an opinion of him other than movies I’ve seen. I don’t really pay attention to his interviews. I did see what he said about San Diego Comic Con and how turned off by it he was. As a frequent attendee of the event, I know exactly what he’s talking about. My friend Skylar titled SDCC “Self-Entitled and Privileged Con” after his first visit this year, and I can’t say he’s wrong to describe it that way.
Honestly, I think the reason I like Jesse is because I enjoy watching him. I enjoy his facial expressions, his voice, his acting. He seems like a normal guy that has stories to tell. Stories that I’m interested in hearing. Maybe that is because I see myself in parts of him, because often I’ve found that the things that interest us can sometimes be a sort of mirror into ourselves. I’m a nervous mumbler and a fast talker that tilts my head and purses my lips in confusion or in contemplative moments. I guess that’s the one thing we have in common. Oh, and I also think you have to be crazy to be comfortable at SDCC.