And life’s like an hourglass glued to the table…

November 1, 2008

NOOOOO!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!! I will NOT go quietly!!!!!!

Most Fashionable Reader! Zelda has dragged herself out of The Treacherous Abyss and has pulled herself to her feet to, well, face her demons head-on by writing about some form of some sort of journey into hell. Zelda is not one to rub salt in her wounds, Dear Reader, but she does have a fondness for rubbing alcohol.

James Joyce! Zelda has missed you so! Also Ulysses! Zelda cannot wait to go farther with you! Maybe even third base! And Vivienne! Zelda has missed you more! Zelda has missed you most!

The video below is something that has made Zelda feel better lately. It is a sweet little song — Zelda had forgotten about it until she heard it whilst getting her hair styled last week. Zelda feels the lyrics would have been a tad more cohesive, however, had Anna Nalick written it when she was a little older. Ah, well.

“My God! It’s so beautiful when the boy! Smiles!”

The writing on the wall

Fade past the unglazed mug, the shampoo commercial, the Still Life with Waterfall. Fingers blunt with cold. The sound of an old film. Aspirin tablets, chicken salad sandwiches. Extension cords round the room like lions. The smell of the weak, the descent of their last end –


Breaking the Silence

October 14, 2008

Tori Amos Holds a Chicken. Yeah, It Makes Sense. Really.Zelda was fully prepared to post this entry last night, Dearest Reader, but, instead, she has been looping the video of Tori Amos performing “Professional Widow” that Our Most Fashionable Vivienne of Fashion posted in her most recent entry for seven hours straight. And, in honor of our Dearest Most Fashionable Vivienne, Zelda shall quote from Tori Amos regarding aforementioned song. Zelda shall show you these quotes, Reader, because they make sense. And, as Tori Amos fans know but do not like to admit, most of what comes out of Tori Amos’s mouth does not make much sense, so these quotes are truly a rarity, because they make perfect freaking sense. And, in actuality, they make the most sense of anything that Zelda has read this entire year, and they have caused Zelda to become obsessed with Tori Amos again, just like she was when she was an undergraduate. So these are some of the Fashionable Things Tori Amos has to say about “Professional Widow”:

“I am very interested in what is strong and what is weak in a person. Interested in my vision of self — how people see me instead of how I see myself. I’ll pull out each part of this being that is judged harshly, and some of these parts are extreme. For instance, ‘Professional Widow’ is an extreme part. It can get hard because I want to be king. All of us women want to be king but we have to be queens. You know, it’s like Lady Macbeth or something.” (from The Dent)

Slash Gives Unfashionable Readers the Finger“That’s my Lady Macbeth, the side of me that wanted power. But power in a man’s world. I wanted to be Indiana Jones, not the girlfriend. But as I began to do that I started to alienate many men. ‘Widow’ is my hunger for the energy I felt some of the men in my life possessed: the ability to be king. I wasn’t content just being a muse. I was the creative force. I was in relationships with different men where if they could honour that, they couldn’t honour the woman, and if they could honour the woman, they couldn’t honour the creative force.” (from Pop Idol)

And, my personal favorite:

“Professional Widow is the Lady Macbeth archetype. There are many ways to play Lady Macbeth. It can be done in a Jackie O suit.” (from YesSaid)

Yes! Yes! Yes! A thousand resounding shouts for playing Lady Freaking Macbeth in a Jackie Freaking O suit! Yes! Yes! Yes!

PROPORTION, BOY! IT’S GOTTA BE BIG, I SAID. YOU BETTER BE BIG, BOY!

James Joyce is making Zelda write these things, Dear Reader. It’s all his fault. And with that statement, Zelda moves a smidgen closer to The Ulysses Experiment. . .

Please note that Slash is wearing a One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest t-shirt. Yesssssssss!But first! Zelda must make a public declaration! To make this public declaration publicly, however, Zelda must first make a rather embarrassing and shameful admission. Zelda must say publicly that she was laid off in August. Zelda must say publicly that she is now unemployed. Zelda must say publicly that she has had no luck in finding employment since being laid off in August. Zelda must say publicly that she has absolutely no money. Zelda must say publicly that cheese has now become an unaffordable luxury in her sad little Household of One.

Now, Zelda can make her public declaration. So here it is:

IF YOU HAVE A JOB, ZELDA DOESN’T WANT TO HEAR YOU TALKING ABOUT FREAKING OUT ABOUT THE FREAKING ECONOMY. Zelda has her Own Personal Economy to worry about. Zelda is no longer going to reach her Fashionable Hand of Fashion to you in an attempt to pull you out of your despair over the present economy-in-general. That means you Andy Secher at Hit Parader, Circus Magazine, Mick Wall at Kerrang, Bob Guccione Jr. at Spin. . .

But seriously, Reader. Zelda doesn’t want to hear it. This is rather difficult for Zelda, for even Zelda’s mother admits that Zelda is a nurturer (among many other things). Stop laughing, Reader — it’s true, Zelda swears.

No transition.

Zelda is mentioning a funeral, methods of death, a raincoat, and a hat in exercise below. And also: for those of you who feel the need to call Zelda and freak out about the freaking economy (Zelda is mostly — but not completely — referring to a non-parental member of her immediate family here, one who will never read her HyacinthGirls.com musings), Zelda has provided an educational Electric Company clip for you below.

Everybody’s in a little pain every once and a while. You’re not the only one. So what do you really gain? It makes no sense to complain!

Ballistics Studies Reveal Forgiven Debt, Uxoricide, Filicide, Attempted Suicide, Suicide

Cadavers suspended from cloud formations. Notyetwinter means unlined raincoats. The rain like sleet on the unemployment line stretching past the parking lot that cigarettesmoking procession playing a scratched record three tombstones down from your loved one. A man on his cellphone touching his tophat. I am forgetting your tears. To feel comfortable about the dead, break them into pieces. Send my cinders home to Mother.


You met your match tonight.

October 3, 2008

Well, not really, for Zelda must admit that she had a bout of Unfashionibility and was unable to finish her piece for the day. She has an excuse: just as she was beginning her piece, she received a phone call from a cousin she had not seen in three years. This cousin was driving through town, and Zelda opted to visit with him instead of writing.

But! Zelda still wishes to post, because Zelda wishes to comment on Vivienne’s Springsteen statement in Vivienne’s most recent entry. Zelda wishes to comment, for Zelda WHOLEHEARTEDLY CONCURS. Springsteen sucks. Period. Zelda was highly incensed when Springsteen covered “Jesse James” on We Shall Overcome in 2006, because that was a folk song that The Pogues had covered on Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash way back in 1985.

Sadly, Zelda could find no fan video for The Pogues’ “Jesse James” on YouTube. So, instead of posting a video of Bruce Springsteen singing “Jesse James,” because, well, that would SUCK, Zelda is going to post a video of Cher singing “Just Like Jesse James,” for Zelda thinks Cher’s song is better than Springsteen’s version of “Jesse James.”

And, by the way: be forewarned. This will not be the last time Zelda mentions The Pogues.


In Which Vivienne Apologizes Sincerely for Her Lapse into Unfashion

October 2, 2008

O readers, o lovers, o comrades in Fashion!  Forgive Viv for her most unfortunate Significant Lapse into the Land of Unfashion.  I apologize greatly.  Circumstances mitigated.  Plus, there is this sad fact: whereas Zelda’s always Fashionable life of Fashion becomes even more Fashionable, it seems, during the months of our Blog Projects, Vivienne’s life tends to dissipate into … Well, boredom and busy-ness and routine.  To whit: the most Significantly Interesting thing that occurred yesterday was that I was awakened by Manfred Mann Earth Band’s “Blinded by the Light.”  You, gentle reader, perhaps have noticed that I termed this event as “Interesting” rather than “Fashionable.”  That is because there is, perhaps, nothing less Fashionable than this song.  However, this song can be termed as “Interesting” for a number of reasons.  First, because I hate it so, and because it was the first song I heard, it played continously in my mind throughout the rest of the day, so that I was kept from pure concentration on Very Important Things by my concentration on just how much said song sucks, and in how many ways its suckage occurs.  Secondly, this song may be considered “Interesting” due to my interpretation of the lyrics: whereas the Google claims that the lyrics are “cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night,” I claim that the lyrics are, in fact, “cut loose like a douchbag in the middle of the night,” which is ultimately more Interesting for obvious reasons.  Thirdly, this song may be considered a Song of Interest (though not a Song of Fashion, and most certainly not a Fashionable Song of Fashion) because it appears that Bruce Springsteen is the author of said song, and that said song is, in fact, Springsteen’s only number one hit as a song writer, two facts which confirm what will probably be the most controversial statement ever said on this blog: Bruce Springsteen sucks.  There.  I said it, and I meant it.  Bruce Springsteen wouldn’t know Fashion if it slapped him with a gloved hand on that face.

Please view this Complete Absence of Fashion as proof.

And now, dear friends, after that shocking but very true statement, I turn to our Ulysses-inspired writing exercise for the day, created Most Fashionably by the Most Fashionable Zelda: to describe a process, as inspired by the classroom scene in part two of Ulysses.  This, and the first part of Ulysses, dedicated largely to shaving, has led me to think a great deal about how often a man‘s shaving process has been described in literature, whereas a woman‘s shaving process hasn’t.  I will certainly ruminate on this in future Poemlogues, perhaps giving Helpful Tips to the Chillbumped, but, in the meantime, this.

This the blade wavelike, tiding the leg cast shadowed and downed, unnacceptable and needing acceptance.  This the twin bladed blade of your hope, this the twinned blade of your hope and invitation, and the hand slipped under the tablecloth under the table under the skirt under the slip, this the twinned blade to prepare for what you’ve prepared for so many years, modeled with plasticdoll with bestfriend with basement lampshaded and carpet unrolled, Coke bottle unCoked and spinning and your hope then as always to land on the good one, to land on the good one you asked to the party you asked to the basement you asked for when you laid the rose scarf over the lampshade to rosesun it, show your skin as you wished your skin to be seen not poxmarked and pimplemarred but rosesunned the shimmer of movie and glow.  This the blade you will wield legwise showerwet, this the blade you will lead down the legline so often unstraight, so often slipping and scraping and these the scars you’ll call warwounds, this the bloodcollector slid between tiles that slid your feet to slipping, the blade to slipping, the hope to slipping yearward with hairfall and drain caught, this the eyeskin dropping, this the body you can no longer name.


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.