chiarascura.blogspot.com
chiarascura.com: yellow smile
http://chiarascura.blogspot.com/2010/03/yellow-smile.html
Recently lost a notebook - again! Though, fortunately enough, this one contained very little and was not a Principal Notebook, just a scratch pad of sorts. As some sort of weird penance for my absentmindedness, thought maybe should keep promise to self to occasionally drop some older scribbles here. This is New York; a syphilitic whore who will fuck you for free and charge you extra for the penicillin afterward. And you'll pay - you'll pay because you want to survive till the next go. You'll pay ...Vacat...
chiarascura.blogspot.com
chiarascura.com: Dear New Yorkers with umbrellas . . .
http://chiarascura.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-new-yorkers-with-umbrellas.html
Dear New Yorkers with umbrellas . . . I know how hard it is to be you, juggling a soy mocha latte in one. Hand, typing into your corporate BlackBerry about how much you hate. Your boss with the other, and managing to hold your umbrella aloft. Using little more than the muscles of your neck and shoulder. I know. You cant be bothered to watch where youre going. But if another one. Of you bumps into me, I may have to take that umbrella from you . . . And beat you with it. You have been warned.
chiarascura.blogspot.com
chiarascura.com: eight
http://chiarascura.blogspot.com/2009/09/eight.html
It's a chilly, dreary, grey day. An endless rain comes down on New York, as if on cue. Completely unlike that cruelly ironic sunny Tuesday - ah, we've all gone through this so many times. Eight times, at least, right? So I was glad I would be nowhere near there today, but, surprisingly - or perhaps not - it still feels the same. Still the same sense of grief and anger and frustrated impotence. And, strangely, a vague wish to be there, downtown, feeling whatever it is I feel. Of Spirit of the West. It was...
chiarascura.blogspot.com
chiarascura.com: pee-yew, eh?
http://chiarascura.blogspot.com/2010/02/pee-yew-eh.html
So I recently read this article called The New Dating Game. Caution: it's LONG), which was, in part, about the PUA (pick-up artist) culture, and I'd read the PUA bible (or one of 'em, anyway) a couple years ago. ( The Game, by Neil Strauss. Whether I read the accounts of men or women (yes, there is also a small community of aspiring female. If only men stopped hating and fearing female power. If only women stopped resenting male power. How much happier we all would be if people could fuck without...I am ...
chiarascura.tumblr.com
Chiarascura
http://chiarascura.tumblr.com/tagged/fashion
Give me something to write about . . . Experiments in color-grading (etc. :). From an old shoot with Rachel Whittemore. Content by Renata B.
chiarascura.blogspot.com
chiarascura.com: shutterbuggery
http://chiarascura.blogspot.com/2010/02/shutterbuggery.html
Been fiddling around with a new design for my photo site, currently hosted here. The new one would look like this. Still dithering over how much sparkly faux-Flash animation stuff I should use, and wondering what psychological insights can be gleaned from the fact that I can never pick just ONE photo for the splash page . . . or, for that matter, two. Or three. Or eight. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). She has a day job (sometimes), but doesn't like to talk about it. Vacation properties all over.
chiarascura.blogspot.com
chiarascura.com: gentlemen in bars
http://chiarascura.blogspot.com/2009/08/gentlemen-in-bars.html
A Latvian after 1 drink: passable, if accented English. A Latvian after 2 drinks: broken English. A Latvian after 3 drinks: nearly incomprehensible English. Anything after that: Horny, horny Borat. "Baby, I vant fok you.". Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). She has a day job (sometimes), but doesn't like to talk about it. She lives primarily on the interwebs. Vacation properties all over. Her body usually resides in Brooklyn, New York. Make your own badge here.
chiarascura.tumblr.com
Chiarascura
http://chiarascura.tumblr.com/tagged/madness
Give me something to write about . . . The madman in the eyes. You look the madman in the eyes. You see the madness there, you hope. He sees the madness in your eyes. You know there’s madness there, you hope. He’ll dignify it with his choice,. Legitimize it like a bastard with words. Spoken in public. You hope. He’ll make it mean something, at last -. The bruising of your knuckles on a door. That no one else can see,. The constant loneliness, the rage,. The impotence of passing. For sane, for same.
chiarascura.tumblr.com
Chiarascura
http://chiarascura.tumblr.com/post/20475030975/some-people-have-their-finger-on-the-pulse-of-pop
Give me something to write about . . . Some people have their finger on the pulse of pop culture. I think I might have mine in its ass. Whatever’s going on, it all feels like shit to me. Content by Renata B.
