Pearls of Wisdom

Coalescent Suicide

2011-11-14T03:17:00.005-05:00

Seventeen of age, yet writhed of the insatiable demon that slumbered beneath her complacent disposition. This demon that is placed atop the mantle to burn in mockery as it resists authority and religion. No exorcism could faze the truth that curses through the steady veins of the troubled youth. Wandering the streets of faded hallucinatory refuge, she walks aimlessly and skeptical like a new-born doe crossing the pastures to meet its untimely death, foolish naivete.

The Breath of Summer Brought Me Back

2011-07-14T03:05:00.004-04:00

The girl, she was a connoisseur of avid perceptions and backward glances, naive yet fearless in her worldly pursuits. Her downward spiral was conscious and one of aforementioned likeness, with her piercing troubled eyes and clouded mind, a leap is all it took. With one last sentence that stuck in the thick July air, she left all her wildest inhibitions. She was no longer an entity, but disembodied of her earlier faith, a child of haunted persecutions and values, no longer captured in gilded cages like a savage bird. The world turned her cold, rejecting amorous souls and deciding to live among the wild and reckless, looking at the world at night with one eye open, living and breathing danger from her very existence. Self-destruction was fulfillment, detachment the ultimate vial of life and hate the recollection of her yearnings. This girl was no different from the others, for what is sanity nowadays with revolting messages of false pretensions and distorted content. This one found her own path, the one leading to the moonlit path, taking no one and trusting nothing but her very instincts, feeding off of the flesh of life, traveling to a world all her own.

Sorry for the impartial, erratic, extended periods of nonexistent blogging. I'm very grateful for those of you who have continued to follow me despite my sub par dedications. However, I'm on my tumblr quite often, and I enjoy it very much when I get e-mails from the many of you telling me you like my blog posts, it honestly brightens up my world.

Newfound Addiction

2011-04-03T21:22:00.004-04:00

I'm a sorry excuse for a blogger, being inefficient and irrelevant as well as inconsistent with my blogging. I apologize to all my fellow followers whom I esteem so very much. If you'd like to see my daily photo diary or read about my usual sulky rants, please visit my Tumblr The link is down below.

Rock Pistols

One Moon, One Entity

2011-03-20T00:52:00.003-04:00

Ember Metallics

2011-03-10T15:56:00.003-05:00

Sorry for the ridiculous lack of updates on my blog. Here's a little update of photos that I'm currently obsessed with, I seem to be so fed up and choked by my surroundings, I'm tired of monotonous routines and spinning clocks on dials. I need excitement, life and adrenaline. Indiana, you are not the one for me.

Images from thetrashedfashion

All I Want Is You

2011-01-23T22:23:00.009-05:00

In our crystal illuminated multidimensional processes, the sky is the limit, those we love never grow old or cripple with debilitating diseases and distorted mental illusions. We will forever be young, the long perfect nights meet no end, there will always be a feast, the luck of the draw, the splendid winds in our direction. But this is all discriminatory, for life is not nearly as just. Tumult takes our hearts astride and tears them from the inside out, maelstroms of doubt rust away our perpetual lust for life. Penitentiary fasts leave us voracious and emaciated with the emotions we feel we can't contend. In the end, it all stops, and what has been done is all that matters, those insults you abolished, the dreams you saved, those aspirations you fueled. It's now or never.

Wistful Fallacies

2011-01-19T21:46:00.002-05:00

You stole those datums of deprivation that I exhaled and breathed in everyday of my life, and with it you took my yearning for a tomorrow where sunshine steaks the brooding storm, and my heart's delicate convalescent nature is unperturbed but strengthened by the abundance of satisfying gardens and labyrinths, in which fauns frolic about and the word defeat is macabre and unruly. Take me to this special place, or I shall whither in this cigarette-haze and darkened dream that seems an infinite mirage of speculations, intent gazes and solemn incantation. To breathe once more, is in your arms, in our world of shattered crystal glass imposed and riddled with facades of splendor and bantering serenity, where nothing is what it seems, only content and beguiling. In my algorithm of justification, I thought it wise to kill my spirit, it's death by your side or eternal ruin.

Photo- thetrashedfashion

Senile Debauchery

2011-01-07T21:29:00.005-05:00

Vituperative tombs of gardens laden with poisonous roses and haunting treacherous syncopations of death, a life hallowed around a parading marionette carcass that is carried out to pastoral landscapes.

No longer a living muse, an inspiration, but a sepulchre eight feet underground, soon becoming sediment enriched with soul and fiber, denizens of humanity, organisms of scavenger-abated prudence.

A crow's cries overrules, snapping trenches, burning wenches. I only dream of endowed conceptions of love and fruitful living, but darkness looms in the dimensions, choking me until I have no breath.

Over propane waves of self destruction, a shining beam of iridescent light corrodes the stealth that misery has inhabited within your body. It has taken it host, and now has escaped the tunnels of your being. Purge the unnecessary out of your being like an exhale on a cold winter day, left to die alone, so that only dreams and goals fill one's mind. No doubting misdemeanors or unappreciated births. Each and every one of us have the chance to incite a revolution, all you need's a spark.

Images via - In a fraction of a second

Sundered Demons

2011-01-05T16:06:00.002-05:00

Disfunction, malfunctions, degradations and uninhibited haunting crawls. I write out of the depth of my aching, wretched soul blackened with hate and false pretensions. How dare you judge my reckless abandon with such worthless piety, for holiness no longer occupies my spirit. Can I let you go, for the cage is melting, spreading molten glass in my internal organs, spewing madness. I no longer see you, an entity that haunches in my midnight tumult, relinquishing itself to the corner, staring with intensity, alone until death do us part, alone until the occult condones.

Images via - Johnny's Bird, Victor Vauthier.

Look Under Your Bed, It'll Set You Free

2011-01-02T19:48:00.007-05:00

If you've never watched Almost Famous, and seem captivated with the essence and world of rock 'n' roll, I definitely recommend you watch it. It's a movie about bittersweet memories and that "feeling" when rock 'n' roll was last subversive and pure. It had raw emotions, and was used as a gateway into people's lives. It was all about originality, and the music. It was just a carefree period of time. My holiday break is nearly over, and this is the perfect movie to watch as a farewell. Not to mention Hudson and McDormand's performances, I love them both as actresses. As well as Zooey Deschanel, who plays the role of quirky Anita Miller. Hope you fall in love with the movie just like I did. Hope everyone had a wonderful new year's, a toast to new prosperity and fulfillment! I know mine was certainly crazy and adventurous.

You cannot make friends with the rock stars. That's what's important. If you're a rock journalist - first, you will never get paid much. But you will get free records from the record company. And they'll buy you drinks, you'll meet girls, they'll try to fly you places for free, offer you drugs... I know. It sounds great. But they are not your friends. These are people who want you to write sanctimonious stories about the genius of the rock stars, and they will ruin rock and roll and strangle everything we love about it.

- Philip Seymour Hoffman as Lester Bangs

Crystallized Bruises

2010-12-26T23:12:00.008-05:00

We're all apart of that dysfunctional rotunda of thoughts and betrayal known as humanity. We seek adventure and challenges, like fresh meat to a wild creature. Those who come and go, those we deem respectable, a nature selection of fame, hunger and ultimate convictions. Our constellations tell us lies, as we humans, are unpredictable testimonies of unscrupulous endeavors and selfish haunts. We're as simple as a thread of twine, yet inconceivable and enigmatic rustles of torn landscapes. We fight for freedom, yet shy away from exposure and the truth which may scorch and abide us with even more torment. Treading lightly isn't realistic, we're all or nothing specimens, bold and unrefined, brash without resent.

Images via - thecobrasnake.

Holiday Tidings

2010-12-26T22:57:00.006-05:00

I'm terribly sorry to have inadequately and ruthlessly abandoned my blog, besides changing my layout, I have resented in updating anything much. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday, I got just about everything I wanted besides a new cell phone, which should be coming soon as promised by my mother. I've also been spending unhealthy amounts of time on tumblr, updating my other little blog compulsively if you want to check it out, it's called Rock Pistols. 2010 is almost over, I can't wait to begin the new year, so much has changed.

Steve Madden Combat Boots

D & G mini perfumes

Life by Keith Richards

World Art Book

Urban Decay NYC eyeshadow palette

Loads of clothing.

gift cards, etc.

Say You Don't Want It

2010-12-01T18:57:00.003-05:00

The Young and Invincible

2010-11-23T22:53:00.005-05:00

I feel caged, like a bird without its precious propellers of destiny, clipped before manifestation. Arbitrated like a marionette captured in a borrowed corpse, a sepulture eight feet under. With dark and pervasive slanders, ironies and doubts. Oligarchy, monarchy, throw in a false democracy, as the riddled trivial word that once gave us purpose now turns a sour note, withstanding a feat of cruel mockery. Built upon the brave, barren soil of past souls, yet ravished with neglect and sin. Who's to trust among idled ruins as the earth abides, in scorn?

Images from Johnny's Bird

Moonlit Incantations

2010-11-18T21:36:00.001-05:00

I stood amid perpetual somber solitude, as my black boots sunk into the dewy moss of the incarnate forest floor. Dark livid disillusions entwined within my conscious, my spirit a malediction of myself, but a lullaby of ricocheting melodies nonetheless. Shrouded from the outside world, the occult mind torments many, it fractures and distorts, corrodes and ensues murder. As witching hour whence comes forth, I feel the scorching ensign of my anxious heart, pounding away as wretched corpses rise once more, giving way to the night, the only time I thrive, and become full with the satiety of mournful vengeance and the macabre. Morning light brings me disdain, as I scornfully succumb to mundane hours, my anarchist dreams are best befitted to the darkness of the forest veil, as fires burn and the moon becomes envious of the earthly mortals endowed in tender flesh and blood. Persecution is of choice, chosen paths cross eternally, to be an animal of darkness, or a dove of yonder morning.

I love this photo shoot, everything about it. The styling, the scenery, the accessories. It's carefree John Lennon meets Kurt Cobain rocker, and if you've been on my blog, I'm unhealthily obsessed with rock 'n' roll and its legacy. My goal is to somehow embody and channel this look into my everyday outfit.

And, I have one of those silly things, formspring. Ask me anything, here.

Glorious images from Johnny's Bird.

Those Dirty Wicked Lies

2010-11-08T21:23:00.006-05:00

As your bewitching gaze condemns my mortal soul into perpetual damnation, I lay awake at night, wishing the scorching and tenacious fibers of sorrow behind my facade of joy would cease. As my deceitful lashes tell stories of content, when indeed all I have inside is merciless regret. As my mood changes like the crumbling autumn leaves, leaving only dust and particles behind the remnants of you and I. By moon fall, I've aggrieved myself into believing, tricked myself once more. Shunned the true and earnest souls, left to die amidst the carnivores. When the bone-chilling winds come to corrode my being, I shall stand in line, awaiting my sentence while the world incarnates the ashes, leaving the visage of ancient memories.

Images from 30Doradus

Ponderous Executions

2010-11-07T21:21:00.004-05:00

I'm deeply sorry for being such an abhorrent blogger. I completely neglected this little space. I've been lacking the initiative to explore the depths of my raucous mind in the hopes of creating syncopated messages that are subliminally enjoyable. I leave that to other talented souls. In general, a lot has changed, this year has definitely been the year I've been most in contact with the world. I've left that abashed surface of comfort and discreet assumptions and gone out to experience the effulgence outside the looking glass. I've lost friends, gained some more and discovered who the true and earnest are, those that love you at your worst and your best, in beauty and in filth as well as fortune and demise. I've become very close to my friend from Costa Rica that I met in July. We are like sisters, and it's hard to say, but she has come to understand me more than my own childhood friends. I've also flirted with adolescent whims of romance, and found that relationships only complicate existence..remain calm and carry on. More to come. I love everyone who takes the time to read this irreverent nonsense.

Gorgeous images from thetrashedfashion.

Everyone Needs A Little Lola

2010-09-28T17:47:00.002-04:00

Sorry for the lack of updates, I'm a terrible blogger. I just haven't found the disposition or ample inspiration to sit down and pour my heart out. I wish I could, but rambles of collapsing thoughts come to the surface. Nothing worth posting. I've also been pretty busy working on assignments for my school's Newspaper. It's quite exciting when it comes out every month, and I'm a part of it. :) Enjoy this adorable little song. Lola by The Kinks. Authentic music, music that never loses its poignance and always instills that "feeling" in our soul.

Remnants of Summer

2010-09-09T22:53:00.006-04:00

Sorry for the disdainfully dreadful lack of posts. School seems to drain me of my most vital enthusiasm and vigor as perfect celestial summer days are spent tortured inside walls that meet no sky, and piling assignments that detriment rather than stimulate my mind. In all honesty, heading outside and witnessing the summer breeze in its purest essence is bliss. The only perfection. When conformism strains your individuality and precludes the revolution in your soul, you have to push forward, becoming the idealistic rebel in your own respect. Rebellion is much more than wearing a leather jacket and smart mouthing authority figures, it's about holding steadfast to that little thing in your heart called "independence" and "passion." Whether I seem to orbit all by myself some days, I remember all those that overcame this formidable entity of shadow and became legends for those aspiring to follow their passions and deny the noose of doubt and idealism. It's radicalism, it's autonomy.

Images from thetrashedfashion.

Whooga Sheepskin Boots Review

2010-09-01T16:36:00.005-04:00

Due to my complete unethical time management and dementia tainted memory, I completely forgot to review the wonderful complimentary black sheepskin boots the wonderful folks at Whooga sent me about a month ago. When they came in the mail, I eagerly ripped open the package and wiggled into them. They were celestially soft, and oh so warm. I think I must've walked around my house in them all day, despite the 90 degree weather outside. And I can't even begin to imagine how wonderful it'll feel amidst bitter bone-chilling winter weather. The boots themselves rival that of any UGG retailer, only they're even softer, and warmer. And for those of you that love wearing boots all year, no problem! The wonderful Whooga boots circulate air in your feet in the warmer days, and keep you nice and toasty on chilly days. No more foul-smelling suffocated, and sweaty feet. As for the quality, it's unquestionably genuine. Made of merino sheepskin, hand stitched detailing and thick spongey fleece that circulates air around your feet, it's boot luxury at its best.

I will be sure to sport mine as soon as the leaves star changing colors, and those windy afternoons start rolling around. Aka, my favorite season. Fall clad sheepskin feet, here I come.

Gaspard Ulliel For Chanel

2010-08-28T18:05:00.000-04:00

Exquisite.

Garage Band Endeavors

2010-08-20T21:34:00.006-04:00

Recently, I've taken an extreme interest to singing. I've never been much of a performer, but I've been messing with Garage band on my mac, and writing crazy, abstruse lyrics. Which I guess fits my melodramatic, beguilingly obscure poetry as well. So while I sedulously tried to find out how to add background music to garage band, while trying to hear the vocals, I figured it out! Turns out it was much easier than I thought. Figures. You can listen for your amusement to these crumby songs made by me. They are very rough-sounding and not very professional, but it's incredibly fun. I would definitely advise others to try, even if they don't like to sing. It's also just an amazing program.

Song Link- Here.

The Sinner's Plea

2010-08-13T00:48:00.002-04:00

As my last week of freedom and solace dwindles off into the oblivion and blur of maroon and gray hallways, my mind tries to absorb maniacally, taking in experiences and fits of laughter, as if serenity shall never be salvaged. I'm a wild spirit on the verge of ambition and condemnation, hunting for adrenaline and unexpected joy. I search at thrift stores, half-price book stores, and vintage places bring me little treasures, as I play old Aerosmith Cd's and picture the moment. A concert of nostalgic perfection, one for the Polaroids and black and white film. I yearn for perception and a true aspect of my being, but media falters my conceptions. I shun all the disbelievers and the false, wanting only raw contact with the outside world. Hypocritical cynics, unjust perpetrators, and discouraging mongrels. I say burn them all at the stake, and forevermore, remember one's true essence.

Lovely images from thetrashedfashion.

Sorry for the slow updates, I haven't been finding the time and dedication for posting as often. But from now on, I will surely use this space to include more rants and random paragraphs of rambles.

Chasing Fallen Wishes

2010-08-04T14:46:00.004-04:00

I am back from my Floridian vacation. It was very interesting, being obnoxious on all the rides, meeting real-life princesses, and laughing until our stomachs hurt. Watching magical fireworks by night, awaking to parades at day. But it's good to be home, and as the new school year approached, my languid mind quickens with thoughts and unfinished tasks. Summer is quite cruel, and leaves with a swift flourish and decay, as I wait for next year's bliss to torrent through my veins.

Comes as you are, in all your flaws and idle wonders. With your mind running wild like a beast amidst thorn-encrusted roses. Let's run away together, like the rebellious youth in movies, only this is real life. No fairy godmothers, no sanctimonious sanctuaries, no second chances. Where life behind bars exists, and pain comes as true as a spellbinding excursion, ravishing like tortured nooses fastened at the neck. We can no longer hide from life, but come out and embrace the truth, forget numbing sensations, feel the sweat and anguish, the feelings of doubt and exasperation. As our minds stop and syncopate, rewinding and forwarding, endless states of thoughts and possibilities. A fine tune no one can measure up, a clock unable to program, an alarm blaring at the depth of one's soul, signaling life and death. It is this gruesome world that shapes and ricochets off our skull, making us the raw potent individuals we must be, leaving no heartfelt inkings behind. Left behind are fantasies, now the nightmare is awakened, barricading against the pale luridly arresting moon.

Images via - thetrashedfashion.

Neon Bullets and Lucid Souls

2010-07-25T11:59:00.004-04:00

I feel lethargic, exhausted, dazed and confused. With languid limbs like lead, and a disillusionment with the world so profound, eclipses with reality are frequent. My mind is free, but my being is incarcerated in a heavy cage of iron, encased in thousands of dangerous thoughts and perceptions. The window to my soul shows no reverie, no peculiarity. But once you take a step inside, it's down the rabbit hole you'll go. As streaming consciousness keeps me up at night, as wind howls against my turbulent dreams, I see my life flash before my very eyes. In scenes, in chapters, in acts. And it's as if there's no possibilities, no existence, just love and death and deceiving acts behind the wicked mirror. The only morsel of sanity in my head at times, is the music I listen to, whether it's classical or grunge punk, the truth comes in tunes and melodies, ricocheting off my troubled outlook. As my soul so easily fills with bliss, so too comes sorrow, wafting in like unbearable waves of salty sea-water, making me tread just so I can keep my head a float. But as stormy waves subside, and my mind and pen proclaim their last stroke, the flame burns out, and it begins once more.

Sorry for the long post. Apparently I had a lot to write about today. I think my garbled thoughts have been influenced by listening too much to Nirvana, and reading Heavier than Heaven, a biography on Kurt Cobain. Don't you ever wonder what really happened? The story of his life is fascinating. I'm off to Orlando, FL with my three best friends on Monday and probably won't be back until next Tuesday morning. I'm very excited. :) Because as we all know, going to Disney World and all those parks isn't as exciting with family as it is friends.

Images courtesy of thetrashedfashion.

Scandalous Supper

2010-07-22T15:20:00.001-04:00

This has the media buzzing. Taylor has been flamed over and over for her attributed risque style and lack of proper garments. And now, this reenactment of the last supper. Let's be honest, when you're model thin and have those limbs, you can wear whatever you want! I find it refreshing from the Disney mania and all that over manufactured mess. I really enjoy Taylor's music. What do you think?

Dark Reflections

2010-07-21T13:17:00.002-04:00

Playing around with pieces in my closet that resemble my latest rock n' roll phase. Long lace blouse button-downs, torn fishnets, faux leather, smoky eyes, black pencil skirts, and crucifix necklaces. I can't wait to get my new camera. :]

Sylvia Impacts The Soul

2010-07-14T19:05:00.005-04:00

I watched Sylvia last night for the first time, and I fell in love with the movie. I had already been an avid Sylvia Plath reader, having been enamored with her flowing prose and strong passionate passages from her book, The Bell Jar. I never purchased her other two poetry books, and plan on doing so shortly. Her unabridged journals were excellent, and I'm truly fond of her writing for its descriptive hypnotizing qualities that lull even the coldest heart of stone. She was a jaded woman who endured a treacherous marriage, but who in the end, couldn't handle the eclipse of reality and scrutiny. If you've never read any of Plath's works, I seriously encourage you to read something of hers. It will surely change your life. :)

Along with watching Sylvia, I watched Dead Poet's Society. With young little Ethan Hawke and Robin Williams as the charismatic imaginative english teacher. It was also a great little movie.

Indolent Idle

2010-07-12T14:50:00.004-04:00

The mood is slightly lethargic, a refined compound of tranquility and serenity overcoming the serpent of doubt. The ruse of apprehension washes away like lavender fields in hues of gold. The packs of wild animals that battled fervently and shed blood no longer rival among the masses, but instead have found a content timbre of brotherhood and solidarity. It is how the world should function and evolve. By distorting ravenous policies of harsh pretenses and judgement and replacing them with the 60's spirit of love and peace. No wonder today's children face harsh circumstances and brash generations. It's because the forefathers that had once fought for peace in times of despair are now fleeing and turning to war. Only one can decide how to live out each day, but the beguiling truth that holds us still and the cries that pierce our ears even in the darkest of nights, will never be silenced.

And be sure to twitter stalk me on my NEW account, here.

Images courtesy of lolita.se

Lagerfeld Lulls Even The Dead

2010-07-07T17:23:00.002-04:00

Albeit the theatrical acting, I am in love with this hardcore shopping video campaign. It's adorable, dreamy and everything a girl could wish for. With gorgeous creatures like Baptise Giabiconi, what's not to love? The luscious clothing and rich elements are also amazing.

Silent Revolution

2010-07-02T18:13:00.005-04:00

At once, the summoning begins. It's thicker than flesh and blood and binds one's fascinations, guilt and detonations in one cauldron of flame and ash. It disposes of dreams, and creates withering labors amid our time of flourish. Escape is a mere syncopated melody, played well but performed poorly. It's the dying patches of flowers below an abandoned cottage, the gaunt man staring back at you on the streets, a child crying out in need. Desperation and riveting momentum are the existence of our adrenaline, it feeds our woes and exasperation. The poignant weapon of choice is never to succumb to such pressures and agitations, but to succeed among the tumult. To see the dying flowers as a sign of life, dark moments as illuminations. Only then can the heavens seem near and hell a wanton fable.

P.S. I'm so excited for warped tour! Thrill is flushing my veins, as my friends and I set out to watch our favorite bands, under the hot sun, waiting to see if we can catch a glimpse of the lead singer, the guitarist, etc. It's gotten to be so hot here in Indiana, that I'm deciding to wear torn studded denim shorts, and a black skull tank top, adorned with one of my crucifix necklaces and many bracelets. By far, I'm most excited to see The Pretty Reckless, with Taylor Momsen fronting the band and her wonderful voice, that reminds me of an early Blondie/Courtney Love. Wish me luck! And Happy Early Fourth of July! Any exciting plans?

Images from thetrashedfashion

Don't You Want Me

2010-06-30T20:00:00.004-04:00

Classics like these, they're pure 80's frivolity. I love this video and their flamboyant style. Full of expression, and those killer boots!

We Have Started Nothing

2010-06-25T22:20:00.004-04:00

I'm infatuated with the whole ambiguous hippie rock vibe circa the 70's. With the melancholic lighting, moody disposition, leather clad charisma and silent cries of rebellion. It's the demeanor that begs to be noticed. This is by far, one of my most favorite photographical sites. It's raw, and really stays true to its crux of independence, liberation and revolution. All those styling is genius, and although lacking luxury, it coins my interest in many other areas. Such as vintage t-shirts, hippie headbands and poignant atmospheres. I love photography that emphasizes or can warp you back to a certain time period or expression, it's the pure unedited beauty of photography and its many manifestations.

Lovely images courtesy of Johnny's Bird.

Rock Pistols

2010-06-25T01:02:00.002-04:00

I've created a tumblr account, and started a little photo diary/mini blog. Basically, I'll post pictures, messages, maybe poems and playlists. It's a supplement to this blog, so whenever I don't update this blog, you can rush on over to my tumblr and see the tidbits I post. To visit my tumblr, go here.

Stolen Souls

2010-06-21T00:11:00.005-04:00

Could I tell you baby, when that nostalgic song comes on the radio, how much I miss those summer nights? When all that mattered was the both of us, enraptured in our teenage dreams and absurd ambitions. Blanketed with hope and witnessing truth. I can't feel that convalescence in my heart, instead it grows fainter and withers as we speak. Overlooking the pristine waters, I can only imagine your beguiling reflection smiling hauntingly at me. When night falls, and the birds hush their melancholic chirps, who is to save me from madness and a downward descent? Existence seems mere, a dainty metaphor of a higher power, extinguishable at any given moment in our lives. A collision, an accident, a misfortune. But at the end of this illustrious kaleidoscope we call life, was it worth it? That's all it will ever be about.

Sorry for the lack of posts. I've been going out and enjoying the glorious sun, sharing time with significant others and watching the stars at night. I've also been drinking too much coffee, staying up too late, and listening to Led Zeppelin, David Bowie, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, and XX.

Images from thetrashedfashion.

I Want To Witness Life

2010-06-14T18:56:00.003-04:00

You see me from above the willow tree, gazing at you bewildered, a conspired grin. As we reach earth, and our fingers touch, creating a path across our skin. The dew and precious flowers below swaying in harmony. Laying down and staring at the stars well after midnight, creating stories and myths out of comical constellations. And when I wake up, and greet a new day, the night stays etched in my mind. A minute of solace and instantaneous revival.

Lovely images from 00888

Rebel Without A Cause

2010-06-09T17:44:00.007-04:00

This Friday, I'm excited to go see a James Dean movie, Rebel Without a Cause at an outdoor movie showing with my friends. I'm every bit the cinema aficionado, and James Dean is one of those iconic Hollywood stars the live on in our nostalgic ideals, even if we weren't a part of the era. That, and his striking resemblance to James Franco, whom I also love. I hope this film is very much indeed as beguiling as my expectations.

Images via- thecobrasnake and In a fraction of a Second.

Apocalyptic Wonders

2010-06-07T21:38:00.000-04:00

Tenderness, tumult, trepidation and trances abundant in the night. What would an apocalypse mean in our ricocheting and evolving universe? The separation of mind, body and soul, devoid of being but existent nonetheless? However intrigued and curious humans are to be in contact with another life, another entity, the other side, as long as a wistful smile may plaster my face, I know this life was worth living. Materials may be ravishing and wholly consuming, but it succumbs to dust when time comes to pass. There's no reason to afflict and fluster oneself over infinitesimal woes and the need to dissect and scrutinize each and every word mouthed on the street. I wish and yearn to a live a Parisian-inspired life, living in tranquility and flourishing among the people that loved me no matter what.

Beautiful photography from In a fraction of a second.

Playing With Fire

2010-06-02T19:22:00.004-04:00

Images from thetrashedfashion.

Sorry for my impromptu disappearance. It's as if the end of the school year awakened and revived everything in each fiber of my being. The grouchy sleep-deprived teen becomes a vision of a laid-back flower child. I hope this wonderful, resurrecting vibe makes up for the lack of intuitive posts. These pictures were all handpicked and I think each and every one is gorgeous, they embody the encapsulation of all my current obsessions. I'm also planning on finishing up some books on my night table, and posting reviews of those. As well as sporadic outfit posts and a summer play list I've been working on. I'm so filled with bliss and the charm of summer that little else can ruin my fortuitous mood. By the way, reading Nylon, while sipping on a smoothie, sitting under the shade of a backyard deck can be just as magical as swimming in a crystal-clear lavish pool.

The Dead Walk

2010-05-25T21:42:00.005-04:00

Finals to study for, possible all-nights, midnight coffee, and three more days until summer succumbs to its harmonious ricochet of warm days and celestial nights. I'm not so sure how I feel about this year, lighthearted yes, melancholic, perhaps but definitely molded into a different being. I've grown in different ways and strayed away from mainstream attractions and cacophony, to a more indie-inspired way of life. Do you ever feel like your unique style and sense of music and culture, makes you stand out? Like everyone is a clone in a perpetually revolving identical universe? Sure feels like it for me.

Images from Dirtyglam.

Uproar of Spirits

2010-05-23T20:18:00.005-04:00

LILY-GIRL, not made for this world's pain,

With brown, soft hair close braided by her ears,

And longing eyes half veiled by slumberous tears

Like bluest water seen through mists of rain:

Pale cheeks whereon no love hath left its stain,

Red underlip drawn in for fear of love,

And white throat, whiter than the silvered dove,

Through whose wan marble creeps one purple vein.

Yet, though my lips shall praise her without cease,

Even to kiss her feet I am not bold,

Being o'ershadowed by the wings of awe,

Like Dante, when he stood with Beatrice

Beneath the flaming Lion's breast, and saw

The seventh Crystal, and the Stair of Gold.

Poem by Oscar Wild- Madonna Mia.

Images from dirtyglam.

Running From Fate

2010-05-20T21:10:00.004-04:00

As the school year comes to a close, and another year is added on to my youth, I feel empowered, yet feeble. I feel like I'm trapped between wanting independence and wanting guidance. Underneath my rebellious nature and aspiring devotion, I need to be nurtured and understood. This year, I shall dedicate myself towards worshipping each and every day as my last, and to let go of all the little woes that corrode the soul and spirit. I will attend Warped Tour with my best friends, lay under the sun for hours, read until midnight, swim out by the lake, encounter unexpected friendships, develop my writing, drink coffee and rummage through vintage boutiques. I intend to make due with summer's quintessential nostalgia, to blast The Raveonettes and Vampire Weekend, as I envelope myself in the pureness of freedom. Until next year comes around, spoiling serenity.

Beat The Devil's Tattoo

2010-05-18T20:37:00.004-04:00

I have fallen in love with Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

Their tantalizing moody vocals,

and rebellious guitar strumming. And the fact they haven't become mainstream?

Well, that's just priceless. I've recently started hating mainstream music,

opting for obscure indie rock bands and indie artists. There's so much hidden

talent outside of the gates of radios stations and itune's top five. I plan on

discovering all of this wonderful music, one artist at a time.

Chivalrous Murder

2010-05-15T15:47:00.004-04:00

>>

I love those disillusioned fairy tales of epitomized infatuation and star-crossed lovers succumbing to death rather than restraint. Of chivalrous knights atop white stallions, and witches scheming away at decapitating cauldrons. I'm in love with sweet-nothings, triple thick eyeliner, casually ripped fishnets, faux leather jackets, rock n' roll and living to the tune of one's euphonious nature. To kiss one's love under the stars, and hear the whispers that console at your darkest hour. Cigarette lit alley ways, and steadfast blossoms and the way they sway. To be content, is to commit suicide. To be idealistic and aspiring is to live. If you're not dreaming, you're dying. It's the only way I can live, one dream at a time, sketching and writing away in tattered journals, hoping one day they'll hear me.

Images - from thetrashedfashion.

Void and Null

2010-05-10T21:49:00.003-04:00

Blow the smoke right off the tube
Kiss my gentle burning bruise
I'm lost in time
And to all the people left behind
You are walking dumb and blind, blind.

Images from Thecobrasnake.com.

Lyrics from The Pretty Reckless

A Crow For You and Me

2010-05-08T11:49:00.003-04:00

Up above the orchard tree, wicked by nature, sits a crow for you and I. He glares into the soul, a look that could turn one to stone. Ponderous upon executions of the mind and guilt, the crow condemns. When the darkness descends in a catapulting omen, staying true to the hymn in one's heart is all that remains, from the charred barren ruins.

Images from- thetrashedfashion.com.

Congregation of Rebels

2010-05-04T21:32:00.002-04:00

As of late, I've fallen in love with this whole concept. Rebellion trumps conformity.

Images from thetreashedfashion.com

À La Mode Momsen

2010-05-03T21:21:00.005-04:00

Taylor might smoke like a chimney, and not be the idyllic 16-year old role model for teen girls, but Miss. Momsen has got revolutionary style. Her rock star palette can transform from day to night, followed by a sultry smoky eye. She can go from glamorous clad in designer frocks, and then play with her band in mismatched fish nets and vintage tees. I envy her statuesque physique and rocker vibe.

Distortion

2010-05-01T01:04:00.002-04:00

I want to be drunken with love, and infatuated with pretentious fantasies. I want to prove those demons wrong, and live past standards. Flee security, and lose myself in the disregarded, a tumbleweed blowing in the wind. To abandon normality and exploit conceptions, go on a road trip and find the connoisseurs of life.

Lovely Images courtesy of Johnnys Bird

Call Of The Wild

2010-04-26T15:08:00.002-04:00

I have this urgent desire for summer to show its face and shower me with its majestic rays of sunshine, and lazy days of splendor. I wish for good books, good weather, parties, soul-searching, beaches, tropical smoothies, tans, and laughter. I need a beguiling summer in my midst, only then can I succumb to another year of mundane deeds and torturous repetition. To breathe enough so that suffocation is far away, and inspiration floats above the clouds and in the streets. Friendship bracelets weave a lucky tapestry of rainbow hues, memories echo through the walls of the soul, and sunsets epitomize the concept of happiness.

Images courtesy of thecobrasnake.com

Under The Stars

2010-04-21T20:53:00.004-04:00

You're the face I see. Smoking in my dreams, choking me in shattering doubt. Can you guide me through the stars, free of superstition and disapproving glances? Two spirits mingled in one. One entity.

Images via - In a fraction of a Second, Dirty Glam, flickr.

Trash and Treasures

2010-04-18T23:43:00.005-04:00

I have found a happy medium, one where fantasy and reality coexist. I used to image it all as one splendor, one fiber of being, either colliding or separate. Now, I find that balance and solidarity is all I need. To vanish perpetuating thoughts, and a mind that stays on throughout the night. I've learnt to take situations as they come to me, and thrive amid a guise of pleasantness. I guess it's the only way that happiness can be resurrected and kept alive like a burning flame, it's all about the guise we understand, and the one we follow. As long as I feel excitement and thrill, I know I'm living right. It's all that matters.

Images via The Trashed Fashion.

Crimson and Clover

2010-04-14T16:35:00.006-04:00

Beguiled by the splendors that lie within the lines, and the risible circumstances that seem like manacles to the unperturbed spirit, the mind seems haunted. The insidious intuitions that turn from wilted dreams to steadfast ambitions revolutionizes standards. This convocation of assimilation and expectations that make one's head spin, yet constructs the crux of average life. My wishes lie within the ordinary, to break out of mundane molds enforced by belligerent nonsense and society, and to live outside boundaries. Forget all sanctimonious obligations and murder alleged hesitation. It's the reverie that keeps me breathing, the one that fuels my life.

Images from thetrashedfashion

Spring Florals

2010-04-08T21:50:00.004-04:00

Took some fun shots for the spring season. I'm still working on making my pictures not appear as blurry as they do. My birthday wish is an SLR camera, and I fervently hope my parents wish to fulfill it. So what do you guys think? Like the outfit.

Worn with Dana Buchman black shoes, vintage floral high-waisted skirt, Owl F21 necklace, and Pink Rose brand black shirt from T.J Maxx.

Meet Me on The Horizon

2010-04-05T17:04:00.005-04:00

Dispersed like a mid summer dream and cajoled between various ardent mountainous expeditions, lies the crux of the soul. It is steadfast in demeanor and withholds no betrayal, a chivalrous contemporary mirage in the wake of the beholder. The soul worries not of superstitions or of doubt, of appearances or look, but rather sacrifice and fulfillment, solace and endearment. It buries the tears and surfaces the memories, of those meek and powerful moments. Both essential to the human nature, and it consumes, like a devious vulture. In no way can the soul be perfect, for flaws exist, wedged beneath the carcasses of self-possessed passion and cohesion. One thing's for sure, I want you to meet me where the sun and sky meet. Wherever that facade of bequeathed sanctuary lies.

Images from 00888.

In this Town, Nothing Matters

2010-04-04T16:52:00.006-04:00

Images courtesy of 00888.

The Runaways

2010-04-04T15:52:00.004-04:00

Even though I'm not a huge fan of Kirsten Stewart, I have to say I'm somewhat excited to see this movie. Joan Jett is one of the executive producers, and the runaways is one of my favorite post 70's all-girl bands. I just hope I'm not disappointed.

Music For Your Ears

2010-04-03T16:38:00.004-04:00

I'm back from vacation. And I can say, I've never felt better. Vacations should be mandatory. Even though my family bickers and quarrels, I had a rather good time. And now for some Raveonettes, they seem to be occupying all my ipod space lately. Aren't they just wonderful? I'm working on a new post, since I sort of abandoned this blog for a week.

100th Post Celebration

2010-03-25T17:29:00.004-04:00

In celebration of Pearl of Wisdom's 100th post, I'm posting some wonderful images from thetrashedfashion.com, sharing a little playlist with you all. As well as adding the average rambles.

Marveled and riddled with the timbre of ancient lullabies, my heart stirs for your company, the communion of our empathy, in unity and peace. Content and woven like harp strings, I can't let you go. When love is all that sets you free, a chance is the only equilibrium, the only rose in the macabre garden of earth, the only untouched, immaculate of conspiracy and doubt. I can hear the voices, that I wish could be silenced, because they float gloweringly amidst my soul, tearing hopes and generations. That single light, is the only that guides me through the dark.

My Playlist:

Bang! -- The Raveonettes

Cities in Dust -- The XX

Horchata -- Vampire Weekend

Kill the Lights -- The Birthday Massacre

Beat the Devil's Tattoo -- Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

To Lose My Life -- White Lies

Change of Heart -- El Perro del Mar

Fire -- Kasabian

Intro -- The XX

Jump in The Pool -- Friendly Fires

Lust for Life -- Girls

Love In a Trashcan

2010-03-22T16:03:00.003-04:00

I can't wait until spring break! Three more days until we leave for Florida, and I yearn for the long car ride and the ocean air, the warm sun on my skin. I need a change of scenery, Indiana weather is so mundane and gloweringly possessed with a sense of grey. I love taking pictures of random objects in my midst, getting slushies at 3 in the morning, watching classic movies in the car, witnessing sunsets in their abundant glory, and forgetting for just one moment, any irksome obligations. I'm suddenly very glad that we're leaving friday at noon, making thursday the last day of school! So, what are you doing or have done for spring break? Whether it's sprawling about lazily enjoying life, or going on road trips.

Images courtesy of the trashedfashion.com.

Book Review- The Perks of Being a Wallflower

2010-03-21T14:57:00.004-04:00

A fifteen-year old boy named Charlie sends anonymous letters to his beloved friend who neither judges others or sleeps with other people even if they wanted to. This friend is an enigma, yet this friend keeps him sane and is unconditional albeit the chaos. Charlie's location is unknown, and his letters are obscure yet tinted with emotional distress and teenage angst. He takes you through the wild ride of being a teenager, feeling infinite, and going through the roller coaster of life, known as growing up.

When I first began to read this book, it seemed redundant and dry, lacking poignance and emotion as well as being a tad erratic. After reading between the lines and warping myself into Charlie's world of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and confusion and betrayal, well, then it began to strike me as an interesting read. It's a coming of age novel, in the vein of The Catcher in the Rye and other classics. Yet, somehow I feel like this one is more reliable. Charlie's frustration and voice takes over the pages, you can't help but feel what he's going through, no matter how detrimental and obscure they seem to be. Some might think him an odd child, lost in the crux of his own thoughts, but there seems to be much depth behind Charlie. Deep down inside, he's a considerate teen trying to make his way through loss and redemption, participating in the social world, and feeling infinite. I don't think any author could've explained the picture any better, he paints a rare portrait in the mind, immaculate of bias and perfection, yet lovely all the same. Chbosky has a true uncanny talent for stirring the soul and resurrecting feelings within simple boundaries of literature.

The Stars Collide

2010-03-19T21:11:00.005-04:00

It's unfortunate how trifled with tension my relationship with my family has become. It's begun to get excruciating. I find myself yearning for independence, and out of this crux of confusion and frustration, comes the conception of rebellion. It takes a rare tide to seem like we're all getting along.....does anyone ever feel this way? Or is it just I that was cursed with parents who have unbelievably staunch and controlling minds?

Could this dream be real? This kaleidoscope of false pretensions, devout perceptions, corrosive of my soul and dispensations. It feels like the world comes crashing down, yet I'm standing high above, wondering how this could have gone so wrong. I shunned the disbelievers and accused the uncommitted. Yet, I'm the most guilty of them all. The clock struck midnight I lied awake, among the stars, waiting for you to set me free. Disintegrating tapestries unfold before me, ravishing my senses and my heart. If we go on, shall we relinquish these foolish dreams and desires, or absolve reason and ponder the inevitable, chasing after all the stars with silver linings?

Images courtesy of thetrashedfashion.com

Let's Live Forever

2010-03-17T16:57:00.004-04:00

I just noticed, I'm super close to the 100th post on this blog! Thanks to everyone who has read since day one, and thanks to any new readers who visit me and leave lovely comments. I truly appreciate it. It's been fun, making new blogosphere friends and exchanging inspirations.

I love the whole teen angst, motorcycle vibe. And those leopard pants are so ridiculous, yet I love them all the same. The oversized vintage tees, and black chunky boots and fishnets, the crimped hair, it's like an 80's comeback. I want my very own oversized vintage band tee. Like the one the model's wearing of Led Zeppelin.

Images courtesy of Johnny's Bird.

Marina & The Diamonds

2010-03-15T19:21:00.004-04:00

I'm starting to grow very fond of Marina, and I kind of love this song.

I think you should too.

The Party Manifesto

2010-03-12T22:30:00.004-05:00

Let loose. Cease the night and vanish inquisitions, absolve confusion and destitution. Connive within your emotions, and thrive among darkness.

I want that candle, isn't it the coolest?

Images courtesy of The Cobra Snake.

Leather and Lust

2010-03-11T16:27:00.006-05:00

I want to just take it all in, and feel the weight of life lift like a shallow chalice above my head. I just want to be reckless with a cause, and let judgements go to waste.

Images courtesy of (fashion, what?)

The City's Our Playground

2010-03-10T17:07:00.004-05:00

Leaping into abysses where no one goes close, jumping off the level of average security, avenging everyday mundanity. No longer choked by the restrictions society places before us with an iron grasp. I find exuberance and joy in the blowing wind, simple acts of rebellion, and those moments that make you think, and smile. An evolving tapestry of dwindling rules, open to a world of soul searching and holding on, to those precious moments.

Images courtesy of hobogestapo.

The Witching Hour Lanvin 2010

2010-03-08T16:32:00.007-05:00

It might be my current obsession with gothic-esque ensembles and dark styling, but I have been charmed by Lanvin. All these fitted apocalyptic garments with the dramatic "underworld" makeup, I love it all. Which might be the reason why I dyed my hair black, and I mean solid black. My parent's weren't too pleased. But, why can't I have my own happy medium, my own sense of expression? No one understands.

The feathers are delightful, no?

Images courtesy of nymag.com

Doom of Exiles

2010-03-04T19:14:00.007-05:00

Sometimes all I need is a little of Sylvia Plath's brilliant poetry to bring me to my senses, and back to mutual awareness of the world around me. So, I thought I should post this wonderful poem. There's so many that I love, I could never pick just my favorite.

Doom of Exiles

Now we, returning from the vaulted domes
Of our colossal sleep, come home to find
A tall metropolis of catacombs
Erected down the gangways of our mind.
Green alleys where we reveled have become
The infernal haunt of demon dangers;
Both seraph song and violins are dumb;
Each clock tick consecrates the death of strangers
Backward we traveled to reclaim the day
Before we fell, like Icarus, undone;
All we find are altars in decay
And profane words scrawled black across the sun.
Still, stubbornly we try to crack the nut
In which the riddle of our race is shut.

Poem by Sylvia Plath. Images from hobogestapo.

Watch This Hell Go Up In Smoke

2010-03-01T17:52:00.004-05:00

I yearn for the magnificent city, where bright lights perforate through your soul like a blissful reverie inducing haze. I yearn for midnight concerts, late-night congregations that enrich your youth and possess your senses. I also yearn for the simple desire that human nature can someday resound from lethargic worry and neglect, sin and sorrow. The simple wish to awake and dream in constant revolving spiritualistic and unrestricted expression. To shun colliding world events and forget, for just one moment, and live according to one's heart and content. Feel the crux of self dominion and celestial liberation.

Images- courtesy of Hobogestapo.

We Like to Live Fast & Never Look Back

2010-02-26T20:27:00.004-05:00

Broken bottles, and stolen records, distinguished guises and satirical vices. All renounced and all demented, shrewd and torn, abhor like scorn.

Festive clothing, leopard print, dancing and colliding, dreaming and deciding. A mirage of secret contrition and rebellion all the same. You said love was meant to last, but in this world, it all goes fast.


Confusion and mixed emotions, the crux of distortion, weathered and eroded in front of our eyes. As the world's scorched fate brings our spirit down, we falter. We hide behind false pretensions and ineffective antidotes. All we need is love and hope, to get us through our darkest hour. We can all thrive in time, and heal side by side.
We're invincible at times, on top of the world. Then the next, in strife and loss, buried in despair. Suppress the feelings of demise, embrace the good and summon your devout profession. Whether it's your aspirations, goals, or declarations. 
Conspiracies, and self inflictions, misgivings, and short comings. Turn a silent ear towards criticism and sarcasm, but keep an open soul for love and the effulgence of human nature. The charm that's never broken, the spell that never wears off.


















To be or not be, to dream in color, among the stars. No grays, no dulls. Just vibrance and wonder. To accentuate the unattractive, and convince the unbelieving.
Images courtesy of dead over bloggers.

What Lies Beyond

2010-02-24T16:19:00.000-05:00

I Love all of these pictures. Each represents something I have a penchant for. My current obsession are the decadent rings at the moment, and smoldering brooding tortured-soul-like guys. I mean the poet kind that hides behind dystopian aspects and prose, but is actually an extraordinary closet romantic? Yeah, that kind.

Images courtesy of dead over bloggers.

In A World of Golden Hues

2010-02-19T16:02:00.005-05:00

Sometimes the world is a warped inverted looking glass, manifested by perceptions and expectations. Such as when you finally understood that fairy tales and wonderful fables of love, didn't always come true. And when your innocence was stained with some vulgar realization, your mind before a clean immaculate child-like effulgence.

When reality comes to place us back in our reserved, mundane realities, I fight this guillotine of crippling ignorance. Reality shouldn't be viewed as the opposite of dreaming and aspiring to be. Poets, keep on declaring your utmost passions with devout determination. Visionaries, continue to strike through the crux of probabilities and create a world of idealism and revolution.

Life, in a way, might be a hue of gold. Or a gem compacted together, from millions of infinitesimally small rocks, strewn together to create beauty. A rainbow in reflection, a stream of imperfection lying from beneath, the most important of all.

Imperfection mars the image of some in life, yet enlightens others with its inevitable bluntness and subtle attraction.

A wonderland for some, a treacherous sphere of indignation and fiery consumption for others.

Images Courtesy of Linda Scheynius.

It's This Madness That Keeps Us Sane

2010-02-17T19:58:00.006-05:00

To feel and thrive, with complacent emotions, to live and breathe in unison with evolution. I will never be numb, for it kills the spirit and dulls the soul. To be alive means to feel, even if it's pain. Condemn those thoughts that sabotage your dreams and become suffocating reminders of self-denied ambition.

Live each day, as if it were your last. Not caring about the hushed whispers you hear, the droning noises that never fade, no matter how hard you cover your ears, and pile pillows atop your head.

When the days take their toll, awake at dawn, and contemplate. Ponder all the good and denouncing, write that which afflicts you and free your restraints.

Perfection is biased, and life is about living past the flaws, to a depth unseen to the naked eye. Like those emotions brewing from the inside out, torturing your being and projecting a facade of unrealistic thoughts, a fake tapestry of mind.

What do you do when you feel like you're keeping yourself from living your life? When life seems to take it's toll on you, and you want to reach out and escape the next day? Or do you see beyond your judgements, and confront your doubts?

Images courtesy of Linda Scheynius.

We'll Roam the Streets, and Sell our Soul

2010-02-16T21:34:00.004-05:00

Hush, Hush. For this night is one to last, and one disturbed by idyllic melodies and corner spectacles. Cacophony and perfect syncopated bliss.

One poor soul, so lost, so wane. Content but inexplicably full of shame. A connoisseur of emotions and passion.

So, she's lonely, gone and dead. Full of dread upon her head. Shun the spirits in the night, condemn the witch, a crone insane. A mind in unison with the stars, a world perturbed by indignation, judgements, rules, and revelations.

Till one breaks free, the curse is gone, delicate and dark, mystical and eerie.

Our time is near, there's no reason for such fear.

Images courtesy of - Johnny's Bird.

Plaid & Trouser Shorts

2010-02-12T19:23:00.008-05:00

I've been meaning to take a picture of this pretty interesting Nine West shirt I found on sale! I was actually quite excited. Usually, my interests soar higher than my income and reach, but the feeling you get when you find something you like for less, well, it's empowering. I'm dying to get my new camera, which won't come until my birthday in early May. Until then, I have to use my less than sub-par nikon cool pix mini camera.

As I've been watching Gossip Girl, after buying both seasons, it's very tempting to try and channel Blair Waldorf's exquisite style. Maybe some day, I'll be able to look half as glorious.

Plaid Shirt, nine west. Black shorts, h&M. Shoes, Dana Buchman.

McQueen's Revolution

2010-02-12T18:54:00.003-05:00

RIP, Alexander McQueen. You thrived and became a true fashion revolutionary. Joining the likes of Karl Lagerfeld, and letting people live their life in fashion, in color, a little more fabulously. You gave us all hope, you inspired us, and may your legacy and short career forever withstand the test of time, and may your legendary ground-breaking couture, never be forgotten.

Images via - Thefashionspot

Perpetual Insomnia

2010-02-08T13:04:00.005-05:00

Unrequited chivalrous passion, condescending lunar bliss, high beyond the willow tree. A spot for you and me. These images reflect these treacherous illusions the world portrays, and ultimately, poisons us with. Facades of great seductive appeal, which ultimately lead to death of the spirit and mind.

 Have you ever felt you were living with a smile plastered on your face, a facade of false interpretations and feelings?

Images via - 30Doradus.

Rebels on the Run

2010-02-07T15:37:00.002-05:00

I love the euphoric serenity of this ad campaign. It's a complacent contrast to other more suffocating editorials. It lets your breathe, and picture yourself on the countryside. The clothing is lucid, and delicate. And, the male models, they're utterly gorgeous and chiseled. Mak Weinman is such a lucky girl, shooting with Sam Way and Clark Mallon. By the way, Sam Way is my new favorite model. I go through male model phases.

Images via- fashiontography.

Prada SS10

2010-02-06T12:54:00.003-05:00

I'm in love, with everything. I can't make up my mind, but that last white bag with the jewels, is utterly gorgeous. And those shoes! It's anyone's closet heaven. Can you picture walking down the street in those brown heels?

Images via- Fashiontography.

To The Farm We Go

2010-02-05T18:37:00.002-05:00

Let It Consume You

2010-02-05T16:50:00.006-05:00

A jean campaign done right. I need some Sisley jeans.

By the way, I made one of those formspring things. Ask me here.

Images via- fashiontography.

It's Our Life

2010-01-31T21:12:00.007-05:00

Silence condemning thoughts and condone inevitable doubt and insecurities. Break free of binding shackles and suffocating nooses, of remorse and incantation. Make your life, your way, one day at a time. Each day molding what contains your spirit. Break away and roam the streets at night, contemplating the night sky, as a ballad is heard far off. A cry of immortal passion and devout closet romantics. Each picture worth a thousand words, each laughter echoed for a thousand years, a legend told, a myth proclaimed, a story expanding the ages. Unlawful immorality and immaculate perceptions, shun restrictions and standards, statistics and probability. Defy the odds and rebel against the mundane. Conquer your emotions, and set your spirit free.