Is it a thing to celebrate a one week anniversary? Ha. Kidding. I don’t care whether it’s a thing or not. Happy anniversary, Judas Twice Thrice. Sometimes. Seldom. On rare occasions, I have nothing to say. Wtf was I thinking when I said to myself I’d write daily. Jeez. Well anyway. Rescue team on the way. I picked up three books from the corridor book maze. Should provide some kind of solution. It’s either that, or I’ll smash your face with another delightful music video. Ya, thought so. So bear with me for a sec. There are actually LOTS of things I wanna talk about today. I’m an only child. So I never quite learned how having to choose was a thing. I want everything. Why would I have to sacrifice one of the many things I really want for another. Let me taste, try, read, see, wear it all, then, yes, I’ll pick. I’ll pick all of them if they are worth it. Worthiness. I’ll do that one. Worthy. Of. Worthy+of. Here are the ingredients I wish to lay in front of you on your kitchen top today: Social media; Narcissism; And being a fan of. Then we’ll tap into the spice rack, see if anything can make it good enough for your delicate little palate. Improvisation is what gets me going in the kitchen, fyi. But I’m losing my way again. Pick up your knifes, and follow me.
Wait. Sorry. I’m stuck again. I can’t stop thinking about Terry Richardson. That would make for a great intro on a parodical take of his persona. Shit. Should I buy the domain name? His latest show just opened in Paris. Silly me: I was going to write, wondering if his thumb was in any way shorter or bigger than his dick. But we all know what his dick looks like. Funny how writing about the knife made my mind jump to his thick, heavy, pink dick. That’s what he’s known for, right? Let me rephrase. That’s what he is known for TODAY, right? Some of his work has been cool. Ok fine. When I was 15, I thought the porn chic vibe was the best thing ever. But 15. Hormones. Wanting to be sexually recognized. Wanting to shock whoever gets in your way. It’s a thing. A teenage thing. And of course, I have to pause and wonder. I wouldn’t dare compare the work of Celine (not the brand, you fashion freak, the author) to Richardson’s. But I do wonder anyway. I’m very pro separating what a person can create from how they choose to lead their life. It’s still a bit blurry for me there. So let me try to find my way. Or if you get bored, click on play for a musical interlude.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hYtUYiuzkw It’s just a style thing, but I have always found the moustache highly suspicious. I have lots of photos of my dad wearing the stache (hate that phrasing, but life is full of compromise, I’m learning). And it does really add a German-rapist-from-the-70’s kind of vibe. Or you know, the creepy Austrian guys who kept their daughters or abducted women in their cave, and went on raping them over and over and over. Quick question. Would you pose next to that creep for a photo? And the question isn’t addressed to the crime-ophiliac and other Richard Manson’s fan base type of people. Like, you, and you, and you? Normal, not too cultivated but getting by at your cool job, you. Would YOU be asking your friend to take a pic of Fritzl and you? Like, smiling and shit. Like a photo you can get likes for on social media. Ya, I know, Fritzl isn’t that hot. But he sure was as famous (for a while) as good old Terry. Not that Terry is hot. Let’s be clear. I mean. I do have very weird attractions. Anyone who knows me a bit is aware of my over sexual obsession for Mickey Rourke. Yes, even today, as I have to explain every single time.
Something else I’ve come across lately. And don’t be scared, I’ve put the knife down. It is how much women are being called ‘man hater’ (nice change from man eater) whenever they bring up fucked up shit about someone who happens to be of masculine gender. My post and thoughts on gender is way too long for me to start today. So. Let's imagine something. If you’re a woman, and were to say for instance, that Terry Richardson is a big loser of a rapist. Well well well. Some people are gonna respond things such as: that’s because you wished he’d photographed you, that’s because you’re jealous or envious of his success with women. Let’s stop at those. We are on a thigh schedule people. Yeah, and don’t even start again that thing where you tell me that I hate him because I hate men - because I’m gay. Ha. I won’t even respond that I actually like people over gender. Because it’s been a thing, to attack gay women on the principle that obviously, they hate all men, so whatever they’ll have to say will be biased. I personally don’t hate men. I love some men. I love men who aren’t fucking girls against their will. I’m gonna state the obvious, but it doesn’t have to happen more than once. More than once, you get charged for being a « serial » rapist. Different. I don’t hate Terry Richardson. Not that I was there when it happened, but I do think it is very very likely he could be a rapist. Because I -and we all- know what power can trigger in some people. I don’t hate Terry Richardson. I don’t nor I have ever thought rapists were cool, though. One extra thing I’ll throw in there before serving the dish. I don’t have much consideration for those who think a photo with him thumbs up is the place to be.
Oh well. I’m just a bit bumped that Louise isn’t here anymore. Had she, she could perhaps have helped good old Terry carry his very very big dick around. You know, Louise’s style. Like she did with her Fillette, on that Mapplethorpe photograph. Because was Terry needs, is fucking. No I’m kidding. He needs fucking HELP. And we can do better too.