Self Portrait Artist Statement IX
2017…
Self Portrait Artist Statement VIII
Monday, January 18, 2016
“Final
Cut Pro”
and
“Photoshop”
About
“Photoshop” all I have to say is I’m not any type of professional “graphic
designer.”
Any
“professional” “graphic designer” who has any type of 4-year degree in “graphic
design” would attest to the fact I unintentionally outline and cut-out my
silhouette as if I were ‘a’ badly designed cut-out paper doll.
The
two reasons for why I have a distinctive white outline around my silhouette is because 1) with Carpal Tunnel I have
terrible eye-hand coordination when it comes to “Photoshop” 2) the lotion
around my face and in my hair tends to coagulate thus and therefore I look
ghostly and haven’t figured out how to get rid of the white ghostly outlines in
post production.
Eventually
with time I’ll figure it out.
Furthermore,
to properly outline and cut-out and scale any person is of professional and
vital essence otherwise the picture of the person looks like it’s done by an
“amateur” “Photoshop” worker.
White
outlines are as unprofessional as it gets in “Photoshop.”
A
white outline is to admit one doesn’t know how to maneuver “Photoshop” in the
same manner as professionals do.
~~~
No,
I’m not an “amateur” at either “Final Cut Pro” or “Photoshop” since I’ve worked
with “Final Cut Pro” and “Photoshop” for 16 straight years.
No,
I’m not a “professional” at “Photoshop.”
Nevertheless,
“Photoshop” is indeed my weakest professional point.
The
only reason why non-linear editing and “Photoshop” are my weakest professional
points is because I tend to
over-think what I do.
No,
I don’t seem to relax around these two computer programs.
Instead
of cutting large portions of non-linear editing footage I over-think my work
and tend to cut frame-per-frame which isn’t only tedious and difficult work yet
also unnecessarily insecure at this stage in my career.
‘Old
habits sure are tough to break.’
~~~
Yes,
I think of “Photoshop” in the same perspective as I do non-linear editing.
With
“Photoshop” I tend to fill in each and every pixel thus and therefore my work looks
overworked and over-thought out and tedious and unnatural therefore I often
have to go back to the drawing board and eventually leave the photographs
untouched.
No,
I’m not insecure as a person or professional otherwise I wouldn’t be writing
about any of it.
Both
of my non-linear editing and “Photoshop” work are more often than not
unnecessarily insecure since I’m navigating through rough waters.
Yes,
I want both of my “Photoshop” and non-linear editing to be perfect which is the
wrong lesson to learn and the wrong outlook and the wrong approach.
Yes,
I do tend to overwork each piece of visual elements only because I think it’ll be better for the overall piece simply to
discover in the end the work isn’t worth the perfectionism or the tediously
unnecessarily insecure effort.
~~~
After
16 straight years of working with both “Photoshop” and non-linear editing I’ve
become much better at both.
Yes,
I’m decently good at both computer programs.
However,
I’m still not great at either of the two programs.
Both
“Final Cut Pro” and “Photoshop” computer programs are my professional technical
weaknesses even though I’m truly quite very good at them both. (I’m comparing
myself in the spectrum of my overall 16 year professional career.)
Nonetheless,
I’m good at both programs.
Better
than good. Only I’m not great yet.
Finally,
I have to work this much harder at both programs not to lose my eye-hand
coordination with the recently developed Carpal Tunnel (2012) as well as to
continue to advance and produce awesome conceptual pieces of visual work even
though the professional “graphic designers” know I fail at the technical
aspects.
The
first reason for having a self portrait series is to create a flipbook.
The
second reason for having a self portrait series is to get more comfortable in
front of the camera.
The
third reason for having a self portrait series is to continually work on my
“Photoshop” skills thus I am.
*****
Sound
and
Lighting
Sound and lighting are the two Ut-most difficult elements
of mise-en-scene to correctly produce in high quality production value.
One may have professional make-up and wardrobe applied to
one’s person.
However, if the sound and lighting is off then the entire
picture is off.
In modern times there’s much importance added to make-up
and wardrobe.
Nevertheless, lighting is capable of doing ten times more
and better effects than any make-up or wardrobe may or ever is capable of
making blemishes disappear or pounds disappear or, or, or…
Yes, indeed the camera does actually add 5 pounds.
~~~
Yes, factually any human who inserts any of their fingers
and/or other objects into their vaginas or rectums while recording video does
actually indeed produce pornography.
Anything for which goes inserted into any private orifice
is automatically considered pornography.
*****
Tablet
and
Cell Phone
Pictures
Let’s not worry about “double chins.”
In an era of tablets and cell phone pictures it’s the
most difficult thing in the entire world to get one good picture without any
“double chins.”
The angle for which one must hold up both tablets and
cell phones is conducive towards taking pictures of “double chins.”
Don’t worry about it. It’s the era for which we live in.
No, I wouldn’t ever have cosmetic surgery simply because our technology falters into the
early decades of this century.
No, nobody’s cutting open my round and beautiful face.
Yes, I’ve had a “double chin” ever since I was born.
Yes, I carry a little bit of fat on my face.
The little bit of fat which I happen to carry is on my
round face and not on my derrière therefore I must live with the little bit of
fat which shows and be content to be alive and beautiful as I am.
Yes, a little bit of fat will help anybody fight off
disease.
Yes, I’ve been vaginally hemorrhaging since Spring 2009
to present 2016.
Yes, I’m ecstatic to have a little bit of fat on my bones
to fight off this illness.
*****
No exercise
and
Great Weight
Yes, I was factually 164 pounds December 20, 2013.
Yes, as of today I’m factually 150 pounds at 5’2”.
Today my
high waist measures 23 ½ inches round.
Yes, I take a size 10 pant even though a size 10 is
exactly 1 inch too big around my waist.
Yes, I like my pants in such a slightly baggy manner for
room for agave (non sugar) dessert at the end of a long work day.
However, I neither like my pants too loose or too tight.
Yes, my inseam measures exactly 28 ½ inches long.
Yes, my outer seam measures exactly 30 inches from waist
to right below my ankle bone. (Yes, Eric took my measurements.)
Yes, one of my favorite aspects of fashion is belts.
Yes, I wear my belt around my waist and not around my
derrière.
~~~
Yes, supposedly I ought to weigh 138 pounds.
Yes, I’m 12 pounds away from being medically considered
“average” weight for my height rather than “overweight” or “obese” as I’ve been
medically considered “obese” as well as “overweight” for the past decade.
Ever since February 2014 we completely stopped eating
white or brown table sugar and I lost 14 pounds and haven’t gained the 14
pounds back in 2 years.
No, I no longer purposely exercise.
No, I don’t walk anywhere anymore.
No, I don’t enjoy any exercise of any type.
No, I didn’t ever enjoy any exercise of any type.
Yes, I love the great outdoors.
Yes, I love bonfires in our great beautiful large
backyard.
No, I don’t camp anymore.
No, I don’t skateboard anymore.
~~~
Yes, on average I do about 1.5 to 2 hours of daily
housework.
Yes, housework is far more difficult and more of a great
workout than any gym workout I’ve ever done before and I factually clocked in 8
years of gym workouts lifting weights and the entire works.
Yes, on average from 2006-2012 we walked 4 miles per day
and I didn’t ever drop one single pound.
Yes, when we did walk I had more fat than muscle tone.
Now I have more muscle tone than fat and we don’t
exercise at all.
Yes, housework keeps me incredibly fit while I keep our
home in order and beautifully kept and wonderfully run throughout the years.
No, I don’t like the idea of housework.
However, once I get going then I love to clean once I
forget how much work housework actually is.
Yes, I correctly make the bed military style each weekday
and once per week I change the bedding on Sundays and I do the entire weekly
cooking and clean-up and wiping down of counters and wash and dry and fold 5
loads of laundry per week and vacuum and dust and mop and sweep and take out
the trash and recycling to the curb and both spring and fall I do the cleaning
of window sills and wash curtains and clean out closets and kitchen cupboards
and once per week I give our dog a bath and in summers I sweep the patio and
weed the patio and in fall I prune the overgrowth on the tree branches and keep
the backyard clear of sticks thus our dog doesn’t puncture his paws and I
clean-up neighborhood garbage and, and, and…I write a daily Nonfiction blog and
do edits and watch one hour of cinema and write screenplays and one hour of
daily research and check daily correspondence and make the weekly grocery list
and do our online shopping for our apparel and house wares and, and, and, etc.,
etc., etc., until death do us part.
The most difficult work in the entire world is to be a
housewife.
Sometimes, I’ll look up on any given Friday or Saturday
night and the clock reads 2:44am (in the morning) and I’m still washing dishes
and doing laundry.
And I’m only a part-time housewife and its backbreaking
work.
Yes, ever since we read scientific factual modern data
and scientific journals about how it’s wrong to exercise the body then we
stopped exercising.
According to factual modern science supposedly stretching
and exercise quickly ages the body.
We’re grateful to have stopped stretching and walking
since walking felt more like pounding on the knees than good for the heart.
In ten years of our marriage we feel better than we’ve
ever felt before.
Neither of us has put on any weight in two years without
any exercise.
We watch what we eat.
We’re happy not to ever have to exercise another day in
our lives.
*****
More later…
I have other work to attend to.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Gabriela de la Holm
Self Portrait Artist Statement VI and VII
Wednesday, December 31, 2014 - Thursday,
January 1, 2015
~~~
Happy New
Year’s Evening
(2014-2015)
Happy New
Year’s 2015
“If you
want to get rid of an old hound dog,
you take
it out where folks can see it.”
--- The
Hillbillies of Beverly Hills
***
“Take off
the last accessory you put on.”
--- Coco
Chanel
***
The
Thesis of this Artist Statement
Please
learn to decipher “art” from “reality.”
Clothing photographed
is made to look a certain way when one uses double sided clear tape to create
(without movement) any creative “look” yet when any woman on the street does
wear all the way open any button down shirt to the middle of her ribcage
causing her shirt to flap open like an unanchored sail then her clothes look
cheap and desperate and awkward on her and her sexual appeal or allure quickly
diminishes since she cheats herself and movement and any others of any form of
decency or discipline or imagination for intellectual sensuality vs. overt and
crude sexuality. She blatantly says, “Wanna?!”
Sophistication
is success.
***
Why is it
mostly when womyn get dehumanized
Womyn’s
opponents do “hit below the belt”
and go
after her genitals
as though
any womyn’s vagina
represents
womyn’s intellectuality or vitality?
Why are women desexualized when they’re
dehumanized?
*****
All I know is that I don’t know anything
about fashion.
(Not
literally. Indubitably: rhetorically speaking.)
Fashion
and style and clothes are ever entertaining nevertheless one of the most
important and essential aspects to power (or lack thereof) since mostly people
already know the quote about how “with great power comes great responsibility.”
The
late 19-teens and 1920’s and 1930’s and early 1940’s are some of my favorite
decades for clothes.
There’s
durable sophistication in the decades mentioned above ever so classically
“chic” and properly astute propriety (minus large pleats or distracting
ruffles) about the clothes of 1921-1941 yet intellectually sensual and highly
regarded as another protective time period in the fashion history of the United
States of America before “the war broke out.”
The
1931’s clothes are ‘real’ adult attire and ready for anything which might
suddenly come along the way thus the clothes look smart and sharply smart and
sanely intelligent, too.
Sometimes,
I “daydream” we might someday before “we” die (my girlfriends and I) we’ll be
able to find as beautifully sewed clothes and as responsibly powerful as the
clothes of 1921-1931.
(Might
we not live the dream? Yes, we’ll live the dream. Yes, we can dream. We’re not
asking for too much other than clean air and oceans and municipal streets.)
The
early 1930’s complex “heavy wools” and other durable and protective and sturdy
materials and smart prints constructed into “sport suit coat jackets” or
“blazer suit coats” or fine silks or satins at
which time were sewed into “blouses” all have in common the good fortune to
be extraordinarily well made and constructed and stitched with enough various
fine detail “to kill any devil” with any strong defensive pose with feet spread
shoulders wide apart with a grounded stance and slightly bent knees and with
enough padded elbow room in the sleeve of the arm to sharply and without
warning bring-up and reach-up over one’s face with one’s “rugged individualist”
properly Liberal Arts educated astute wrist and forearm to shield one’s brains
from any violent blow of any type since global private and public
establishments and institutions are physically dangerous places for womyn and
men and children due to “sexual violence” or “sexual molestation” or “sexual
exploitation” or “sex trade” or “sex slavery” or “sexual assault” or etc.,
etc., etc... So on and so forth.
~~~
As
of 2014, my Father informed me about the atrocities of “sexual misconduct” and
“sexual harassment” and “sexual violence” and “sexual assault.”
My
Father told me not to be “gullible” about “sexual assault” or “rape” or “sexual
molestation” or “sexual exploitation” or “sexual harassment” in any workplace.
My
Father informed me not to be “gullible” about how “sexual assault” occurs in
many branches of government and the military and universities and colleges and
doctors’ offices and psychologists’ offices and medical and non-medical
specialists’ offices and people in power all the way to presidents while in
leadership positions at the White House.
My
Father informed me about how the number one problem in the field of psychology
is psychologists who “sleep around” or hold “sexual intercourse” or “sexual
relationships” of any nature with their clients/patients which is any huge
breech of ethics and client/patient trust and lack of diplomacy and lack of
professionalism which such appalling unprofessional misbehavior ought to get
“anybody” disbarred from practice.
My
Father is one retired psychologist who as of this summer 2014 informed me about
the in-depth and complex adult dangers of “sexual assault” in all variations
and forms of any workplace in the form of sexual violence or abusive sexual
power struggles and discriminatory hierarchies to misguided power.
~~~
My
Father told me the truth about how I mustn’t believe anything corporate mass
media outlets or commercial television has to say about what’s any definition
of “family” or what constitutes any “family” or what even so much as defines
any “family” since there’s any large portion of Americans who get “raped” or
“sexually assaulted” or “sexually harassed” or “sexually exploited” at their
workplace each year and the numbers are staggering and unbelievable like the
unbelievable military complex’s’ yearly annual defense budget yet our American
Sons and Daughters enlist in the military only to hold any high probability,
for which, maybe, most likely, someday, they, too, might possibly be next in
line for “sexual assault” or “rape” or “sexual harassment” by their peers
and/or their military complex’s’ bosses.
Such
concrete examples can only mean workplace and professional working environments
take advantage of such positions of power to place and keep most professional
workers in harm’s way of any
unwarranted sexual advances or violent physical sexual touch of any type
especially sexual harassment and/or sexual molestation and/or sexual rape
and/or sexual exploitation.
The
rule of thumb is: "don’t be a
schmuck and date “anybody” from the office" no matter how strong any
hormonal sexual urge unless one were to “on the spot” propose marriage
otherwise forget it.
My
Father informed me not to fall for the lie about how workplaces are “family”
oriented since more people get “sexually harassed” or “raped” or “sexually
assaulted” or “sexually exploited” at work as well as universities or colleges than any other place.
Most often than not the abusive and
violent sexual perpetrators happen to be “somebody” the victims are already acquainted
with or loosely acknowledge or has and/or have some form of already
non-sexually established basic interaction or non-physical contact from one
adult to another adult.
1
in 7 young college women get “sexually assaulted.”
(Please,
do the math for the entire country of college women.)
My
Father informed me about the mistake about how the American corporate mass
media wrongly perpetuates or “forces” to establish clichés about “close
familial bonds” amongst co-workers yet such any wrong and unethical portrayal
“couldn’t be further from any truth” since workplaces are places in which one
may get “fired” or “let go” at any moment’s notice for anything thus “work”
isn’t “family” because “work” also
happens to be one major economic institution in which workers may or may not get “sexually harassed” or
“sexually assaulted” or “sexually attacked” or “sexually preyed upon” or
“sexually exploited” along with possibly get “fired” while wrongly companies
“get away with murder” as well as with going through their employees’ online
digital underwear drawers of newish online “social media” and private
interpersonal digital communications (email.) (Point made.)
(Please,
do the right and correct action and
stay out of employees’ top personal newish online digital “social media” and
private interpersonal digital communications (email) top underwear drawers.)
(Point reiterated.)
Work’s
work.
~~~
“Family”
are people whom one surrounds oneself with outside of work or school or any
other established institution or, per se, newish online “social media”
(although social interaction isn’t real unless one interacts with others in the
physical form and face-to-face.)
Work pays a salary (which most often isn’t enough money) or in
which one pays tuition (which happens to be far much, too, costly for today’s
market rate.)
Hence,
once, one’s hands exchange money other than “monetary gifts without strings
attached” or “ultimatums” then “game over” and don’t ever forget money is dirty
and breeds “greed” and “discontent” and “abuse” and “insignificant melodrama”
and “mean-spirited manipulations” and major “power struggles” without much of
any reason or logic.
~~~
In
this day in age life would be nicer if
only clothes were made with or as protective gear only fashionable and
deliciously beautifully constructed with chic modern styles as well as with the
strength of one hundred Ninjas and the wisdom of twelve Samurai Warriors.
Either
modern fashion is made for stereotypical looking women who are considered either
by modern terms: “hussies” or “sluts” or “obese” women or “frail” or “waifs” or
“rail thin” or “skinny” or “starved” looking women without any curves or women
without any supposed “libido” or “old looking womyn clothes” and not much in
between for us who face and deal with the almost daily struggles of both public
and private places in which womyn either are literally “grabbed” or “pushed up
against subway walls” or “pinched on the breasts or derriere” or clothes are
sometimes violently “torn off” or private body parts “groped” or, or, or…
there’s worse.
(Please, pick any of the above of whichever
one wishes to pick as a steadfast example since adult womyn do contend with at
times mentally ill or “horny” sexual perpetrators on any daily basis even if
sexual assault happens to be drunken gay “myn” who slam heterosexual womyn up
against railings and “dry hump” womyn fully dressed against their will while in
public dance establishments.)
~~~
What’s between womyn and their vaginas?
There
isn’t much between womyn and their genitals.
There
isn’t much protective clothing or gear to keep womyn and men and children
safeguard from “sexual assault” or “rape.”
What
I don’t like about modern clothes is contemporary clothing isn’t even made
beautifully much less as protective gear.
By
now I was convinced and certain jean companies would make zippers which stay
upright and the buttons made impossible to rip open while facing any person or
ink or “raccoon spray” or whichever toxic spray could repel on command and
voice activated when “anybody” were to scream “rape” since any rape’s the
difference between any matter of seconds whether womyn or men can get up and
get away and run or not. (As imaginative
examples about protective clothes and gear.)
Mostly
modern clothes are unattractive.
Modern
clothes tend to walk around with any pout plastered to its botched silicone
filled fish lips and any offensive “middle finger” ever since fashion ran out
of new ideas for durable construction for public safety and consumption.
Modern
fashion’s “dumb kids” who smile, too, long while their bug-eyed faces make
one’s skin crawl.
Modern
fashion’s “dumb kids” “without any marbles in their brains” only rocks to
fill-up their thoughts.
Modern
fashion’s “dumb kids” with their emotions hanging out of their shirts and pants
since such “dumb kids” ever so desperately require attention from “anybody”
around.
*****
In
the past decade (2004-4014) mostly “modern” fashion continues to copy the 1980’s
and the worst parts of the late 1980’s and early to mid 1990’s.
For
some reason modern fashion keeps trotting out some of the ugliest aspects or
terrifyingly unattractive prints or designs or cuts of mostly recently recycled
modern fashion eras (every 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 decades).
What’s the point to trot out the worst parts
of any other fashion era?
There
isn’t any point to trot out the worst parts of any other fashion era other than
to convince mass consumers to purchase unattractive looking clothes which
aren’t even well made in this modern day
in age of computers and robotic advancement and intellectual development.
There
isn’t any point to trot out the worst parts of any other recent fashion era because then an entire populous or
masses or populations (at large) end up looking like a sea of green all over
the lower decks and we all know how tough it’s to clean up lunch off of velour
or suede cushion seats much less electrical panels.
In
the past decade clothes are made either for womyn who are considered
stereotypically “obese” or “plus size” or “malnourished sticks” which such
womyn can look more like twelve year old boys with flat chests and/or linear
body types without hips or breasts and this, too, is beauty in the eye of the beholder.
No,
I don’t believe in “plus size” clothes since “obese” womyn enable the wrong
ideas about overall physical bad health and mental health degeneration and
overall health injuries.
(I speak
as any mature adult “womyn” who’s been considered stereotypically “obese” by
Minnesota doctors for the past decade (10 years, 2005-2015) until four months
ago when I finally dropped eleven (11) pounds and now I’m considered
“overweight.” However, other womyn in general call me “little.”)
No,
I don’t think it’s okay to commercialize “plus size” clothing because “obese” women possibly and
harshly represent potential “diabetes,” “heart disease,” possible “deadly
cancers,” “early on-set dementia,” or “Alzheimer’s.”
No,
there isn’t much healthy or sensual about any “obese” human.
No,
there isn’t much healthy or sensual about any “starving” human.
It’s
mighty difficult to relate to “modern” fashion when contemporary fashion
becomes, too, “passive” about the Ut-most single important aspect of their line-of-work
which is commercial as well as to represent any strong and ethical public
astute social role to ensure the masses look well put together and wonderful
and feel good about themselves at cost or nearly thereabouts rather than
enslave the masses into some of the most unattractive and sexually demeaning
clothes “on the racks” season-after-season for ten straight years.
~~~
Let’s
turn a new page in freshly modern smart and intelligently respectful durable
sensual fashion without getting our American Sons and/or Daughters “sexually
harassed” or possibly “killed” or “raped” or “sexually assaulted” or “sexually
exploited” on the streets of America or in the military while they honorably
fulfill any service or active duty to our Nation.
Until
modern fashion designers mature and stop giving the consumer the derogative
“middle finger” either to hide or disguise the fact most modern designers
haven’t ever physically sewed or stitched any article of clothing in their
entire lives much less made wearable clothes fit for public attendance.
Until
modern fashion designers mature and stop hiding the fact commercial fashion
industry designers “are only ‘in it’ for the money” and not for the love of
consumer goods or loyalty to returning customers hence modern fashion doesn’t
care if people live-or-die much less
if people get “sexually harassed” or “raped” or “sexually assaulted” or
“sexually exploited” while riding any bus or mass transit or while at work or
university or garment districts working away as indentured servants and
economic slaves in poor and deadly dangerous working conditions. Enough said.
~~~
Modern
fashion seems to say, “ ‘Be as derogatory as possible and we’ll watch you get
“sexually assaulted” from afar while we sit back in boxer shorts and stuff
massive amounts of junk food into our faces as we enjoy a good “rape” on any
Sunday afternoon. Pass the chips, ‘bra’.’ ” (No pun intended.)
The
past decade of modern fashion has been one complete disaster and difficult and
painful decade as most consumers state the prints and cuts and patterns and
designs have been unseemly and undignified for fit modern consumption only
because “club kids” “got an ‘in’” with the fashion industry and ever since
fashion either ‘turned-out’ (placed on the market) “frumpy” or “dowdy” or
“club-brothel barmaid” clothes and nothing much else.
The
past decade of fashion has been one complete disaster while most average
American consumers were kept metaphorically illegally imprisoned in some dirty
fashion Guantanamo Bay prison cell handcuffed to prison bars to sit for days on
a cold slab tiled floor with only a sweatshirt-on to die from hyperthermia as
urine stains ran down any fashion corpse’s’ leg (as any hyperbole of metaphor
or analogy.)
Mostly modern fashion and clothes have been
difficult to metaphorically swallow or stomach as any strong analogy is
difficult to handle.
Thus
American consumers “cling” to their late American made-and-manufactured 1990’s
wardrobes and fashions (not modern imitations in style or cut or pattern) which
are far more outdated than I care to
admit yet well made because in the
late 1990’s clothes were still made in America and value was guaranteed no
matter what unlike today average standards aren’t even guaranteed by the
Chinese or Pakistani or Indian or Mexican manufacturers.
~~~
In
the late 1980’s American t-shirts Made-in-America were well manufactured because t-shirts were made by Americans
in American factories by generations of factory workers who took great pride in
their manufactured goods and standards must be maintained.
Yes,
in the late 1980’s clothes were more expensive (relative to its economic times)
yet clothes were better made and lasted longer than clothes today.
Today’s
modern fashions are still somewhat expensive yet it costs ‘pennies on the
dollar’ to sew clothes abroad or overseas in China or Bangladesh or Vietnam or
Cambodia or India or Pakistan or, or, or… Mexico.
In the late 1980’s any average standard
t-shirt cost about $30.00 dollars and lasted as much or as little as five years
in relative good condition.
~~~
If
dress-up t-shirts didn’t get any “washed out” look then it was “good to go” or until t-shirts looked slightly worn out or
slightly used then designer second-hand clothes were offered to the ‘next
generation’ of children on the block for “play clothes” only if the children graciously received the “play clothes” or even
wanted or liked the “play clothes” which I adored free and ‘next generation’
clean and comfortably used beautifully kept designer clothes only worn for one
season to play around our backyard and make forts in thick dense forest of
greenery and trees almost thick as jungles and beach sand or igloos (snow
structures) without any single worry in the world as to ruin such magnificent
clothes because after us the “play
clothes” went into the dust bin to be made into dust rags.
There
were options and no terms or conditions or ultimatums to the second-hand
designer “play clothes” except if we didn’t want them then we were asked to
please donate the designer “play clothes” to organizations and thus we did.
Who doesn’t love cool free second-hand play
clothes?
One
doesn’t have to come up with ideas as to what to shop for. Brilliant.
Cool
free second-hand designer “play clothes” in excellent condition and with their
vibrant colors still intact as well as first-rate cuts and patterns and soft
materials and general overall cool modern and urban styles and looks were
superb because smart and intelligent
and wise youth older than thirteen picked out fashionable and sophisticated and
expensive designer clothes since such teens were classy and bossy people with
taste had already picked out the play clothes then the ‘next generation’ of
youth didn’t have to do anything except play in the second-hand designer
clothes which looked more like ready for Polo, yachting and golf or the country
club than already worn-and-used “play clothes.”
Preppy
“re-usable” second-hand play clothes came soft and broken into perfection for
the ‘next generation.’
We
weren’t allowed to wear second-hand designer “play clothes” to school no matter
how cool second-hand designer “play clothes” looked since they were clothes for
around the house yet presentable to greet guests, if needed to or not.
Nowadays,
mostly creative graphic arts t-shirts still do cost on average about $30.00
dollars yet one’s lucky if one’s t-shirt will last one season much less three
years.
Nowadays,
modern fashion is for the most part garbage. (Literally. Not as an insult.)
Any
consumer may consume modern clothes which quickly become discarded and bam!
There’s
more added garbage to our oceans and seashore lines and natural landscapes and,
and, and…
A
globe fit for modern consumption yet modern consumption isn’t fit for a modern
globe.
*****
Please
don’t ask me about finite etiquette.
Remember,
I’m a young womyn who passed up her “coming out” ball or “cotillion” dance because I thought the word “debutante”
actually meant “amputee.” Not so.
Can
anyone only imagine what English as a
Second Language young womyn from the jungles of Central America must’ve thought
at the age of 16, 17, or 18 or 19?
It
wasn’t any physical handicap I had a problem with. No.
It
was more the mere thought of any ballroom full of puffy white ball gowns of
“amputees” possibly ‘stuffed’ into such ridiculous dresses seemed more of any
mockery to our amputee sisters than
any compliment thus I opted out and
spent an entire summer under an umbrella on one specific beach and read “” from
cover-to-cover without a care in the world.
What I can say thinking from the top of my
head is this: when I last read through our families’ authentic “Coat of
Arms” it read the word “coat” the same as when one’s cold then one will put on
an outer protective layer of clothing or gear known in the English language as
“coat.”
For
sure, I know it’s not “Code of Arms.”
(No,
I’m not certain as to why most readers keep asking this question other than it has
something to do with “Downton Abbey” vs. “Downtown Abbey.” (Please to look it
up.) Thank you.
~~~
Yes,
I love all “white” clothes. They’re beautiful.
No,
I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing “white” clothes after “Labor Day” or before
“Memorial Day.”
Yes,
it’s a strong fashion tradition and a good one to remember.
Thus
I keep within step of such traditional clothing fashions out of respect for our
enslaved history for which such any enslaved history shan’t repeat itself.
No,
I don’t wear white because I don’t want to feel entitled like slave owners did.
~~~
Personally,
I refuse to commit such an extraordinary former and modern fashion “faux pas”
as to wear “white” off season.
My
skin would crawl to create such any general classical social blunder known to
most people in Europe and America as a “faux pas.”
(We
mustn’t forget about inadequate economic social caste systems and social
classes and modern economic slavery and imbalanced power hungry or power
starved hierarchies.)
(If we were to wear
“white” all year round then we would most likely forget our enslaved history
and the drastic and unfair economic social caste system within historical and
modern American context and structures.)
We
believe in purchasing mostly all 50% to 100% organic Turkish or American cotton
from “Patagonia” and/or ‘conscious’ “H&M” since such responsible companies
provide some sort of ethical consumer relief to the enslavement of cotton’s
modern industry.
(As
of November 2011, “consciously” (intentionally written in such a manner) we
surpassed, aside from our steadfast commitment to our twenty year (20)
sociological economic project (we’re into our 9th year of study) to keep our
“household budget” at or under $40,000
dollars with the exception for which
we went ahead in November 2011 and purchased “Patagonia” fleece jackets even
though most “middle income earning” families don’t usually afford such “rugged
individualist” outdoor gear or clothes on their Twin Cities’ annual median
income of $38,000 per family of four (2013, 2014 statistics) as such families
only afford $950.00 per family member per annual (yearly) wardrobe expenses.)
~~~
“Shoulder
pads” must’ve held some sort of function or stylistic purpose in the 1980’s and
1990’s.
However
I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing “shoulder pads” for as long as I live after
physically and actually living through the 1980’s and 1990’s.
(Please,
stop recycling the most unattractive ideas from any fashion or style era in
which people are still alive. Thank you very much. We’re not dead yet.)
~~~
It’s
difficult to find any womyn’s blazers or suit coat jackets since my upper
biceps (nearest to my armpits) are naturally 12.5 inches (twelve and a half
inches, measurement re-taken, November 2015) round in circumference without any
sweater on underneath any suit coat as
well as making this measurement without lifting any single object other
than a fork to my lips.
Now
I wear a size “medium” around the bust and bodice of any blazer or suit coat
jacket however not around the upper biceps
because “I can’t put my arms down.”
Thus,
the fashion “hunt” continues.
To
search and purchase for any comfortable suit coat jacket or sports suit coat
might take years for me to find anything in my size.
My
last real suit coat jacket hunt lasted ten straight years with my “Benetton”
suit coat jacket I purchased in 2002 when I started out as any young filmmaking
executive producer and director of independent documentary feature length films
and as sole proprietor to a now dissolved documentary film company as of
December 31, 2014.
~~~
Yes,
I refuse to wear any clothes with titles such as “hobo” or “burnout” since I wouldn’t
want such connotation to “rub off” on me. Yes, I’m preppy.
Words
matter.
The
brain doesn’t forget one single aspect of life.
Yes,
I like to keep my attire respectfully classical and sophisticated clean
minimalist unless I must teach any whipping moral or ethical or “Green Man’s”
lesson yet I no longer play the “village’s idiot’s” deliciously decadent role
dripping with idiotic and rich chocolate icing. No.
(The toughest acting role to pull off in the
entire world is “village idiot” when one’s considered “overly educated” by
one’s own Father in conversation.)
(Now, by social standards of the highest
order whenever protecting one’s life; I simply and directly whip the
metaphorical rear end of any unruly horse which might have murderous inclinations
because such any dumb animal will
most likely get humans possibly killed or gravely injured and such any moronic
animal knows it doesn’t deserve to live hence it’s any disservice to humanity
by being violently dangerous to itself or others.)
~~~
We
went to “JCPenney” and as soon as we found out the derogatory remarks on
one line of well-made men’s three piece
suits then we quickly moved further down along the aisle of wall racks and
further and further away from purchasing any clothes with any label which read
“Portly Size."
We almost fell over to discover any
consumer clothing label described as “Portly Size” since people have such
difficulty with losing weight and with some aspects of their body image as it
is.
Weight
of any type is any strong private and delicate issue or matter or endeavor
which “nobody” else is allowed to bring up or mention unless one personally
talks about one’s own weight or one does bring up the topic of “weight” to
share and possibly teach something to another otherwise please don’t imply or
talk or even as much as insinuate
anything about anybody else’s body or size.
It’s
in poor taste and ill-bred to point out the obvious on someone else’s physical
body or to make any crude remark such as “Portly Size” when any consumer might
already have a terrible and/or difficult enough time with clothes shopping as
it is. (Please, place one in the shoes of another. Thank you.)
“Portly
Size” is the equivalent of giving any consumer “a jab in the ribs” or a “middle
finger” or two fingers up the nose.
~~~
Dog
boots are terribly designed and constructed.
Last
winter 2013 we bought one set of “Mutluks” for $60.00 dollars and watched our
dog bleed on all four legs all winter long from his “extra” appendages.
Dogs
have appendages (placed further up and
in the inner insides of their legs) which “Freeway’s” extra nail appendages
further dug into our dog’s legs and broke skin exactly where our dog’s little extra
appendages are where the Velcro straps are sewn thus digging into him and
cutting him and breaking his skin open thus causing him to bleed.
Once
I shed one silent tear for our dog.
The
sight of our dog’s blood made my skin crawl.
The
sight of blood running down our dog’s legs looked ever so painful yet as hard
as we tried, we continued to purchase dog boot-design after dog boot-design
without much success.
Yes,
we still had to place something on our dog’s feet thus our dog wouldn’t get
frostbite on our dog’s paws in -15 to -40 (negative fifteen to negative forty
degrees) (with a wind chill) below zero temperatures (neither any hyperbole nor
any exaggeration.)
We
did the best we could with what we had at the time which we ended up with a whole
bunch of different poorly designed dog boots which were ridiculously designed
for any modern dog as well as overpriced.
The
search’s still on for non-excruciatingly painful bloody dog boots.
~~~
We
know our breed’s knees are the first thing to go in his degenerate genetic line
of breed thus for our dog to have to curl-in our dog’s two front knees each
time we dress our fog into a “3M Thinsulate” (the warmest material in the
world) down coat then our dog must contort our dog’s knees forcing our dog to
move in unnatural ways against the natural layout of his anatomy thus design
and construction of dog clothes and coats is completely and utterly wrong for
most dogs of any breed to be forced to do such weird repetitious knee bending
motion is criminal.
Any
unnatural movement which goes against any dog’s anatomy causes trauma to the
joints through repetitious movement overtime.
We
might have to design and construct our own dog clothes no matter how
unattractive or homemade they might look.
We
don’t have time to sew dog clothes yet our dog’s clothes might have to be
custom made to perfection to fit our dog’s body and legs and head and keep him
warm and shielded from severely cold natural elements here in Minnesota’s harsh
winters.
Our
search’s still on to find further “3M Thinsulate” down coats for which our dog could step into the
coat then our dog’s coat would Velcro or zip or button at the top along the
ridge of our dog’s spine or backline rather
than along his underbelly which is difficult to reach and Velcro-in at such
an awkward human manner at the best of times.
We
love the material and feel of “3M Thinsulate” dog down coats.
We
won’t ever give up on Minnesota’s “3M Thinsulate” material since “3M
Thinsulate” material is factually the warmest in the world. Thank you.
~~~
We wouldn’t be caught dead wearing
“camouflage” clothing unless we were to go bear or grouse or wild turkey or
wolf or moose or deer hunting. (Thank you very much.)
Camouflage
is function and not style or fashion.
Yoga
pants are function and not style or fashion.
Sports
wear is function and not style or fashion.
Sports
jersey tops are exclusively to be worn only to sporting events.
Sports
jersey tops aren’t to be considered any type of style or fashion or fit to be
worn anywhere else outside of such specific sports settings otherwise
professionals will refuse to conduct modern and mature adult civilized
responsible business with sports “hooligans” or “anybody” who as much as
imposes such a modern “faux pas” upon larger societal cultural structures at
large.
Wearing
any sports jersey top to events other
than sports events is the same as wearing any “super hero” t-shirt which by
mature adult standards would be social-and-fashion suicide unless it’s Halloween.
Leggings
are function and not style or fashion.
We
made the mistake to purchase our dog a camouflage down coat only since to find
any size “medium” for ‘a’ dog’s long upper body in dog winter “3M Thinsulate”
down coats is nearly impossible to find. (Supply and demand.)
~~~
Not
once have I ever physically protested in any political demonstration or marched
nor have I ever desired to do so. No.
As
of this week I’ve strongly begun to consider the idea of marching in summer
2015 as a peaceful private citizen and civilian demonstrator in the one known
social justice march in which
peaceful private citizens and civilian demonstrators wear only their underwear
in public to bring awareness to “sexual violence” or “sexual assault” or
“sexual misconduct” or “sexual molestation.”
Not ever would I be caught dead
publically wearing only my underwear unless I lost my outer layers of clothes
and was possibly in serious trouble.
However,
I would be willing and daring enough to wear my underwear for any peacefully
institutionalized private citizen and civilian demonstration or march against
“sexual violence” or “sexual incest” or “rape” or “sexual molestation” or “sex
trade” or “sex trafficking” or “underage porn” or “online un-taxable enslaved
sex trade.”
Although,
right after I was done peacefully demonstrating as any private citizen and
civilian does then immediately I must put my clothes back on.
(No,
I didn’t peacefully demonstrate as any private citizen and civilian
demonstrator in the 2015 march for “No Pants, No Problem.”)
No,
I shan’t be physically demonstrating in any future private citizen or civilian
peaceful demonstrations because
demonstrations have not ever been my thing and demonstrations are still not my
thing.
I
sign on-line petitions as a political private citizen and civilian.
*****
In conclusion:
Finally,
last night I purchased (online from Amazon.com and “Allegra K”) six modern and
fashionable “Chinese” blouses for the average cost of $13.00 per blouse which each
blouse on the pictures looked more like $225.00 dollars per item. I haven’t
visually seen such specific blouse cuts or styles since 2002 with a freshly
modern 2013-2014 take.
Insert: One of the “Allegra K” blouses came without
any receipt since the item is non-returnable and non-refundable.
The
following “Allegra K” black and white stripped “Large” (Size 14) blouse is
“a13051700ux0653” and “CO141209115” without any labels or instructions for care
or material percentages is two times (2xs) (XXL) larger than me (by two and
half of me, a possible American size 18) yet the “Amozon.com” size chart read
as though the blouse would be “spot on” exactly the measurements of any
American size “14” “Large” or exactly the tape measurer’s measurements and the
reason why I bought a “Large” size “14” is only because most of the online private citizen and civilian reviews
stated this blouse ran “small” (American size 4,6) thus which is it?
The
reason why the “Allegra K” “Large” size “14” shirt is twice (2 times larger) as
big on me is because in America a
size “0,2” is considered an “extra-small,” and “4,6” is considered a “small,”
and “8,10” is considered a “medium,” and “12,14” is considered a “large,” and
“16,18” is considered an “XL,” and size “20-22” is considered off the charts in
scale as well as “XXL,” and “24…” is considered “XXXL.”
(Correct
American standard inch and sizing measurements as of December 2015.)
As of now
(December 2015) I wear either American shirt size “small” or medium.”
However,
I still don’t know how to purchase Chinese apparel when China’s sizes are all
over the map.
Still yet
this huge quasi sweatshirt which isn’t a real sweatshirt (as specified) is
twice the size of a “Large” which in
America is considered “Plus Size XXL” in other words sizes “20,22” and I’m
literally top size “medium,” “8,10” or “small,” “4,6.”
Furthermore,
the material isn’t a sweatshirt.
The
material is more like a lightweight spandex and cheap to the touch. The design,
style and cut are awesome but the fabric is terrible for the amazing design.
If I were to order the same style of beautiful quasi sweatshirt then
I might not be guaranteed any proper size since I’ve been informed “Chinese”
manufacturers and factories don’t have sizing standards, procedures or protocol
or worker safety regulations.
For
example, if possibly someone’s having “a bad hair day” then they might sew a
shirt the size of an elephant or another day sew a shirt the size of a baby
since China doesn’t have to comply by standard regulations in sizing or inch
increment or otherwise.
The shame
with this type of business interaction is “Allegra K” isn’t necessarily held
accountable for adequate and proper and correct mathematical sizes thus one
could drop $100.00 on shirts which might not ever fit and still be out $100.00
dollars each time since the shirts are non-returnable and non-refundable and
subpar sizing regulations.
“Allegra
K” must make tons of money from consumers like me who ought to know better than to purchase from some “wild wild
west” Chinese manufacturers.
Please
refer to any measuring tape and learn what an inch is exactly.
Let’s go
back to the fundamentals of mathematical construction. (Thank you.)
It’s not
enough to make a shirt.
The shirt
actually has to follow some sizing guidelines and regulations or it’s
considered “highway robbery” as well as “garbage.”
Yes,
I love modern and fashionable and stylish and machine washable 100% polyester “silks”
and/or “satins” especially “chiffon” material as well as modern “embroidery.”
However,
modern materials must be machine washable friendly or forget about it.
Yes,
I’m extremely “picky” since I was bestowed with a “fine tuned eye” for what
looks "dowdy" and the difference between what looks “chic” and
“fresh” and “modern” or not.
Yes,
I studied both cinematography and filmmaking and writing and engineering so I
do know what’s aesthetically pleasing to the eyeball or not otherwise.
Yes,
I automatically know when clothes looks “odd” or “out of place” or “weird” or
“uncouth” or “disdainful” or “inappropriate” or even “disrespectful” or “ugly”
or “cheap” or “classless.”
*****
Excerpt
From Life.
No, I’m
not “matronly.”
Not in
the least bit.
Simply, I
don’t dress like baboons
with my
genitals dropping out of dresses. No.
As of this summer August 2014, I’d two
“disrespectful” and “immature” and “cruel” and “thoughtless” and
“mean-spirited” and “cowardly” and “unlawfully frightened” (beyond scared) and
“rude” and “disrespectful” early-to-mid twenty-something’s verbally abused me
to as much as call me a strong and derogatory word such as “matronly.”
Such
individuals run around with their genitals hanging out of their clothes like
they were two year olds with ruffles on their underwear.
Still
yet while such individuals hosted a party at their home they allowed for a
particular young womyn (their guest) to get raped on their property.
Thus
their word doesn’t mean much to “anybody” much less me yet such derogatory
people do get “verbally abusive” when they can’t get their spoiled way in life
then they lean towards their strong propensity and tendency to punch “below the
belt.”
“Control
freaks” get “verbally abusive” because they’re out-of-control.
No,
I’m not “anybody’s” “wet mommy” or “nanny” or “matron.” No.
Please,
don’t get personal with me.
How
uncouth.
How
déclassé.
~~~
One
Classic General Example
If
we don’t know each other and we haven’t ever at least once been properly
socially introduced to one another by any common third party or we haven’t ever
at least three times in our lifetimes properly met and if we haven’t ever
directly socially introduced ourselves to each other face-to-face in any social
common space such as hence forth we both know our social host then please let’s
not hug at all and at maximum let’s act upon professional and sturdy handshakes
as we properly conduct ourselves for modern professional business or ask out
loud and directly if/and when
“touching” another person is okay and/or permitted to touch or not because one’s body might utterly
physically hurt from hemorrhaging for five straight years. Thank you. (We knew ‘you’d’ understand since ‘you’ did
come across as any genuine gentle and kind soul does.)
To
hug any modern private citizen and civilian “perfect stranger” is to take
liberties as much as to take any private citizens’ and civilians’ picture for
free business publicity and/or promotional materials for any company without
ever having “perfect strangers” “sign on the dotted line” or in exchange of
royalties.
(Especially
in business please be careful as ever to take it upon oneself to take any type
of liberties with “perfect strangers” (especially first time customers or
returning costumers) as to overstep any professional physical boundaries or
take from any private citizens’ or civilians’ “private property” in the form of
private citizens’ or civilians’ image and/or likeness for which includes one’s
own physical body and one’s own physical being and one’s own physical form and
one’s own physical voice in likeness as well as in look, sound and unique
genetic organic material as well as bodily fluids.)
Nobody
may collect “anybody” else’s’ bodily fluids without anybody’s’ written consent.
Yes.
In other words: Any business personnel
or private citizens and/or civilians or public and/or private businesses may
not take first time costumers’ or any repeating costumers’ and/or private
citizens’ and civilians’ picture without the first time costumers signing on the dotted line “personal
agreement statements” since such publicity campaigns and/or promotional
companies will mostly utilize for free
rather than for pay use one’s own “private property” in likeness and/or
image and/or literal picture for free in the form of free company promotional
materials and publicity which is considered exploitation and theft by modern
digital communications and global communications legal standards.
Please,
allow for professionals to do the publicity and/or promotional campaigns of any
public and/or private business since public relations is highly legal work and
must not be left up to anybody to do especially not attorneys since public
relations work is left up to public relations legal as well as creative
professionals to do.
As
any public relations professional one-must-not-only-be-legal since one must also be creative as any
public relations professionals are and/or do.
In
other words: Don’t take your customers’ pictures and use customers’ pictures
for free publicity because it’s highly fraudulent.
~~~
One
must get any private citizens’ and civilians’ signed consent to have their
image or likeness utilized for any public business’s’ promotional campaigns
and/or in any public setting and/or in any business establishments’ locations
and/or in general public whatsoever for which any general public occupies any
space indeed open to the general public for business.
One
doesn’t take any specific and/or particular pictures of anybody’s “private
property” in likeness and/or image while “singling out” (lack of better words)
individuals in public spaces unless one has written or on-camera or voice
recorded verbal consent to take any picture or moving image beyond three (3)
seconds with one’s private or public cell phone in any capacity in any public
space pertaining to specific individuals for which anybody could possibly
witness and recognize the private citizen and civilian individuals for who they
are which such any individual has paid any ticket for attendance of any dated
public event and could possibly sue for using their likeness to make fun of
them or single them out over social media. Yes. Be careful.
No
taking pictures or videos of strangers for one’s own amusement to share over
social media. It’s considered personal theft.
One
may take any personal pictures with one’s cell phone.
However,
one may neither publically nor privately “take” pictures nor moving images nor
upload “private property” in the likeness and/or image of anybody else
otherwise to take specific private citizens’ and civilians’ and individuals’
picture while in public is like rudely staring at somebody and not stating
direct words pertaining to the individual such as, “watch out!”
When
one goes as far as to publically and/or privately upload or share specific
moving image footage for any more than 5 seconds (film school taught us not any
more than 3 seconds, actually) of anybody else’s image and/or likeness then
such action is criminal and either considered exploitation and/or theft by the
person who commits such negative actions against anybody else as to take such
liberties as to take specific defamation pictures and/or moving images of womyn
while womyn are heavily and/or publically and/or privately intoxicated on
anything then such illegal actions of
thievery might be grounds for legal ramifications. Yes.
Please,
with one’s intelligence and kindness and smarts avert one’s eyes and put one’s
cell phones away before one gets any mighty lawsuit in their hands.
For
us who attended four year undergraduate global communications degrees and hold
minors in wet-photography, classical poetry, film studies and creative writing
then we know our basic legal rights when photography becomes the moving image
and or the minutia of legal global communications in many forms of digital
media “private property.”
~~~
Unbeknownst
to the private citizens and civilians who have their pictures taken without ever
signing on the dotted line of any
“personal agreement statements” or royalties then such individuals may
innocently do get “used” by any business personnel for which is an amateur to photography and has no right to take any
pictures of anybody for public
consumption unless business personnel do get any form of signature of one’s’
clients since most private citizens and civilians don’t want and/or care to
and/or desire to have other general public have private citizens and civilians
be looked at without publically being present in the moment to represent one
self since free publicity or promotional campaigns for businesses aren’t any
part of properly conducted personal socialization or professional business. No.
The
individual or company may not use the likeness and/or the image of first time
costumers or any repeating costumers unless one signs on the dotted line and
gets royalties from the company for using one’s own “private property.”
~~~
To
hug any modern “perfect stranger” is to take liberties with any perfect
stranger or anybody for which one conducts business or doesn’t know or has
neither been formally socially introduced nor as much as met anymore than three
times in specifically and commonly shared hosted private events.
Such
mistake is okay to do twice and the third time then strike out.
It’s
impossible to know what type of illnesses others might live with since
anybody’s health is quite their own personal private business and private
affair not necessary to share with anybody else other than one’s legal
consenting sexual monogamous domestic partner or not by legal rights.
~~~
No,
I can’t help it I like to bake my own homemade organic non-GMO and no sugar
whole wheat breads and be extremely responsible to my family and work and life
and friends.
No,
I can’t help it I was stuck in a “fashion rut” for three (3) whole straight
years of only wearing non-logo gray (grey) t-shirts because I refused to wear “Muu Muu” dress prints on my body.
(Otherwise, I’m afraid I would’ve been physically
ill wearing unattractive cuts or prints or designs near or on my body.)
~~~
Ever
since we’ve began our personal sociological economic “project” to live on
$38,000 dollars per annual “household budget” in the same manner as any other
‘”middle income earning” Twin Cities’ families of four family members thus far
our nine year sociological project is any great challenge to live-on according
to our champagne taste on any “beer budget.”
Ever
since 2008, we set our household budget to $35,000 (now $38,000) and it’s very
challenging to purchase clothes on an annual budget of $1,650 per family member
of two (plus a dog $275.00 on clothes) per yearly “household” clothes
allowance.
(Such an annual clothes budget’s merely
scraps off of the floor, $1,650 per household family member of two on a set
“household budget” of $38,000.)
Really,
shirts ought to cost no more than $10.00 in America because $1,650 dollars per
annual allowance is all anybody will afford without taking out credit cards and
getting into further debt which we refuse to do.
All
these years we’ve carefully budgeted and did our duty to “King and Country.”
Yes,
we’re waiting for the rest of the country to economically catch up and for the
fashion industry to connect and understand the gravitas of the economical
situation of most recent Americans (2000-2016.)
For
any family of two adults $1,650 dollars is nothing especially since I have
ridiculously expensive taste for almost anything from cars to watches to
apparel.
Anyone
may place any item in front of me and I can tell if it’s luxury or high quality
or not.
~~~
Back
to social insults and general disrespect for mature adults.
Yes,
I much rather have had “gutless” twenty-something’s call me an “asshole” or a
“cunt” instead of having them unlawfully partake in “accessory to rape after
the fact.”
Twenty-something’s
go straight for the jugular and called me “matronly” because the supposed
“insult” implies I have no vagina.
Matronly
couldn’t be further from the truth since less than one day ago I checked my
vagina when we had glorious sexual intercourse and my vagina was still
rightfully where it belongs.
The
last time I checked I had a myomectomy done not a hysterectomy and even then
I’d still have a vagina intact.
They
knew perfectly well the word “matronly” would hurt.
Especially,
after all of the irresponsible sexual misbehavior and lies and deceit and all of
it came down to one single word which broke my trust with both of them because
I didn’t realize what cruel young people they are.
After
the age of thirty one ought not for any reason or under any circumstance
socially entertain any twenty-something’s (especially not to babysit them)
since some twenty-something’s can be some of the most “dense” and “sexually
vulgar” and “sexually crude” people one will ever encounter.
Who cares to hang out with “dumb kids?”
Nobody
cares to hang out with “dumb kids.”
Yes,
I’m still hurt from their verbal abuse because
they called me “matronly” out of spite rather than truth.
They
became verbally abusive when I “put my foot down” and refused for our home to
become a late night hotel or brothel yet not once did they complain while I
almost killed myself to serve them hand-and-foot.
Yes,
I’m still wounded to have been called “matronly.”
~~~
Yes,
I was “sexually assaulted” at the “Gay 90’s” this summer 2014 when a strange
Iraqi man put his hand down my shirt and up my chest and pinched my left nipple
while one of our house guests went around town making out with nearly every
single strange black man they saw like they were some starved beast on both a
Friday and Saturday night.
(When I finally peeled off our house guest
from some black dude’s penis and informed them of my misfortune and mishap and
what had happened to me, our house guest barely reacted and wanted to know
which bar to go to next.) I could’ve almost killed them with my bare hands and
probably ought to have done so.
Our
former house guest stood in dark and dusty corners as they helped lift up their
genitals to strange men’s penises to have the men stroke our house guest’s
genitals while they cheaply gave themselves away to strangers bar-after-bar as
our house guest went in search of only black men.
Our
former house guest who happens to be a great “liar” and a “know it all”
(terrible combination) is nothing but a “foreigner” and a “cunt” (in some sense
of the word) not to be trusted because our former house guest does indeed have
a cruel streak in them.
To
be cruel is to be retarded with a wayward genetic strand.
(Our former house guest lacks empathy and
they’re some of the most dangerous people to run around with because they’ll
get “anybody” gravely injured or killed.)
When
any person is born or developed in such any terribly cruel manner then they’re
not much good for anything other than to fulfill their ego. (Touché.)
Oh,
I told our former house guest exactly what I thought of them and went so far as
to text the word “cunt” to describe their sexual misbehavior and misconduct as
house guest.
(I’m proud of myself.) (When one’s house
guest gets their host “sexually assaulted” then no holds barred. House guests
might as well go straight to hell.)
~~~
Calling
someone “matronly” is a good way to cowardly tell someone to “go fuck
themselves” without having the balls to do it.
Twenty-something’s
have so much to prove and to make up for.
My
Father told me, our former summer 2014 (correction on year) house guest’s
sexual misconduct is a sign of “mental illness.”
(Okay, but not on my watch and not on my time
because our former house guest costs us thousands of dollars in a short span of
time while we wined and dined them and their social company wasn’t even
intelligent or smart. Our house guest’s company were some desperately horny bar
pimps. Take it someplace else.)
Yes,
I’d do it all over again in the same volatile manner in which I reacted because
I did get “used” by some déclassé floozy nobody from nowhere.
(A
“virgin/whore” is worst type of liars there are.)
Now
this written story’s here for all of time as part of this season’s Self Portrait
Artist Statement thus “anybody” learns a good moral lesson in not taking
advantage of their hosts and getting their hosts either “sexually assaulted” or
almost “killed.”
No,
I don’t socialize with scum no matter who they are.
I’m,
too, preppy and modern prim and proper for idiotic temperaments.
No,
I’m not prissy.
Yes,
I did get called “matronly” because I wouldn’t let myself get further used thus
I was verbally abused by the stupidest twenty-something’s I’ve ever met who one
of them sexually slept their way across the Midwest in the course of one summer
and still managed to get kicked out of three different Minnesota homes and sent
back to Missouri in disgrace because no one wanted to deal with their house
guest’s horny bullshit and deeply seeded control freakish issues which are
mentally ill issues, anyway.
*****
Yes,
I’m a woman in the prime of her life and career.
Yes,
I’m a success.
Yes,
I’m astute and intellectually sexy and clever and sensually smart since I know
exactly what happens past dark.
Women
get realistically “raped” or “sexually assaulted” past dark as well as in the
light of day.
Nothing good ever happens after midnight.
*****
As
of 2014 I decided to purchase (no logo) outlet “Armani Exchange” clothes because
a $30.00 t-shirt sure is better quality and better made and better cut and fit
than a $10.00 t-shirt’s worth even though t-shirts are mainly made under a
$1.00. The mark-up is ridiculous!
As
of August 2014 my personal five (5) year boycott of Chinese made clothing
stopped ever since I discovered “Armani Exchange” is made in China.
Of
course, I fell in love with Armani’s high quality of online customer service
and beautifully made Chinese apparel. (Thank you.)
*****
Remember
to always spend 10% on one’s wardrobe from one’s annual yearly salary income
(pre-taxed for a family of four.)
Automatically
take care of this vitally essential aspect of the personal self.
For
example, the average median annual income for a family of four in the Twin
Cities is $38,000 (2013-2014) then multiply by 10% equals $3,800 divided by 4
family members equals $950 dollars per individual family member per year.
Any
average median annual income for any family of four with an approximate salary
of $100,000 (pre-taxed) multiply by 10% equals $10,000 divided by four family
members equals $2,500 dollars per individual family member in 2014.
*****
Christmas
Eve, I stepped inside a “Coach” store and I was practically “thrown out”
because the store representatives didn’t think I had enough money on me.
Yes,
I walked into “Coach” with $16,000 dollars.
Remember,
we donate $30,000 per year what used to cost to make one single independent
feature length documentary film.
Thus
now we don’t make feature documentary films we tend to donate such a sum.
No,
we’re not talking about credit cards. Nope.
We’re
talking hard earned cash in the form of debit card.
For
the second time in my life I considered purchasing a “Coach” bag.
Yet
I didn’t have a clue as to how much a “Coach” bag would cost thus I went
shopping with $16,000 dollars only to have discovered later the most expensive
“Coach” bags are sold for no more than $500.00 (five hundred dollars) in stores
while “Gucci” or “Versace” bags start at $5,000 (five thousand dollars.)
Yes,
I was surprised to find many of “Coach’s” bags which seemed outdated and
“dowdy” for any new fashionable era.
“Coach’s”
latest “modern” 2013-1014 bags are nothing special to look at or go home and
brag about.
Yes,
I’m asking men and women to boycott “Coach” for one complete year thus “Coach”
may get their house in order (until December 24, 2015).
Yes,
I’ll do my best to purchase a “Coach” clutch next December 24, 2015.
However,
no, I don’t want to see or hear “Coach”
anything because “Coach” doesn’t have
anything worth listening to unless “Coach” would like to apologize for having
their customer representatives treat me like any complete trash.
Last
year’s “Coach” line is for “old women” without supposed reproductive body parts
or libidos for such matters.
“Coach”
smells of “upper middle income” money and nothing much else.
“Coach’s”
clutches are terribly constructed and flimsy like soggy bread.
Over
a phone conversation I told my Father about the incident at “Coach” and my
Father replied, “When you step inside sewage, you come out smelling like
sewage.”
Some
of my Father’s best friends are global Italian buyers for some of the most expensive
and extraordinary clothing labels in the world.
“Drop
the attitude, you work in a shop.”
*****
Why is it Minnesotans only seem to afford
one nice item in their annual wardrobe en masse yet everything else either
looks “raggedy” or “worn out” or “shabby” or “old looking” especially when
Minnesotans frequent museums for such matter?
Why don’t Minnesotans’ lower their economic
expectations and instead of only purchasing one nice $500.00 bag possibly
purchase an entire nice new ensemble or a complete $500.00 outfit from outlet
designers?
Oh,
priorities.
“Leggings”
are stockings.
“Leggings”
are hosiery.
No,
one doesn’t wear “chiffon” or “sheer” or “see through” clothing of any type
without any proper “Camisole” or t-shirt or tank top underneath otherwise
that’s another déclassé ignorant person walking around who doesn’t seem to be
able to decipher “make believe” mean spirited fashion industry from reality.
No,
one doesn’t wear a “blazer” or suit coat jacket with only a bra underneath and
nothing else otherwise that’s another déclassé ignorant person walking around
who doesn’t seem to have any critical analytical thinking skills to decipher
stupidity from fashionable smarts.
Clothes
can make or break human careers and interpersonal relationships.
What is it about “obese” women who mostly
fulfill a deeply empty or intrinsic or inner starving need to have their
“larger than life” eighteen pound breasts each fall out of their clothes?
What is it about smaller or average thin
women who dress ever so beautifully modern “chic” and proper like Audrey
Hepburn did?
At
heart I’m modern preppy and there’s nothing else to it.
There’s
a proper time and place for clothes.
Pura
Vida
“To
the Good Life” (According to the Costa Rican greeting.)
Gabriel
Gabriela
de la Holm
Post
Script
Monday, December 22, 2014
One last correction: “Leggings.”
“Leggings”
without any layer over them is “inappropriate”
attire to “sport” or “wear” outdoors at any time. Yes. (Correct.)
***
“Let’s put it to rest.”
“Leggings”
are the same as “stockings”.
Yes.
“Leggings”
are the same as “hosiery.” Yes.
“Leggings”
are technically “undergarments”
or “underwear”.
Yes.
“Leggings”
is no different than walking
around in one’s underwear. Yes. (Correct.)
“Leggings”
aren’t “long johns” or “long
underwear”. No.
“Leggings”
are worn one layer above
“panties” as well as one layer underneath “long johns” or “long underwear”.
Yes. (Correct.)
“Leggings”
are only worn underneath
clothes such as either “trousers” or “jeans” or appropriately lengthened
“shorts” or “skirts” (supposedly when
one sits down the skirt length covers both knees) and “long skirts” or
“leggings” are worn underneath “long
johns” for another layer of warmth and protection.
The point is this:
After an entire year of answering this
question:
Are “leggings” appropriate to wear in
public? No.
No,
“leggings” aren’t appropriate
to be worn in public at any time no matter what anyone debates or argues about
“leggings” unless one accidently gets locked out of one’s home, possibly not even then.
Why aren’t leggings appropriate to be
worn in public?
The
reason why it’s inappropriate to wear “leggings” in public is because
“leggings” are no different than another layer of private “undergarments” or
“underwear” or “panties.”
“Leggings”
are another “basic” or “base” layer to be worn as protective gear for one’s
private body parts (or genitals) which private body parts (penis / vagina)
mustn’t be “shown” or “used” for anything other than to be shared with intimate
partners or spouses whom which people give
‘only’ agreeable mutual sexual consent otherwise “tuck in private body
parts” and have an excellent day unless one’s zipper becomes broken then go
home and change.
The “faux
pas” of public “leggings”
If for some “awkwardly” misunderstood reason
men or women wore “leggings” out of the house this calendar year 2014 either to
“work” or “school” or to the “grocery store” or to any “restaurant” or any
other public “establishment” then know this:
The
public’s been looking at a calamity “fashion” disaster for an entire year
(2014) ever since some “messed up” commercial
ideal came about how “leggings” suddenly “became” “outdoor” clothing when in reality (factually) “leggings”
are “panties” or more precisely “stockings.”
(How embarrassing for so many Americans to
get ever so confused about inappropriate attire.)
Be careful not to be able to decipher or process critical analytical
thinking skills in knowing the difference
between “reality” from “art” or
“reality” from “commercialism” or “reality” from “surrealism” or “reality” from
“make believe” or “reality” from “storytelling” (visual or oral or literary
form or otherwise which indicates the main components in semiotic communicative
structure in any storyline vitally important in significant communication about
“anything” at all otherwise it’s gibberish or nonsensical which means whatever
the fashion or style or ideal falls apart
in argumentation like weak debate.)
One
must learn the “basics” to basic attire in function.
“Clothes
make the man” or woman.
Clothes can also destroy the man or woman.
When
people or “the masses” blindly follow “anything” they don’t seem to understand
or some ridiculous “style” does catch their eye or any weird “style” or “look”
or “fashion disaster” “catches on” then the masses place themselves in danger
of sabotaging their work or interpersonal relationships by following anything
as easily misunderstood or as simple as any “faux pas”. (Cringe.)
“Faux
pas” are incredibly stupid social mistakes not ever to be repeated in any
social form or function because such things as stupid as “faux pas” can either
close or open up doors or destroy entire careers or opportunities.
If
for any chance in the year 2014 “the masses” did get “caught up” and swept away by the strong under currents and
tides to wear inappropriate “leggings” while out in public then “chuck it
up” to “a” (one) terribly inappropriate fashion year in lack of style not to ever be repeated again because
now we know better as women have known better for the past 100 hundred years.
There’s
no excuse for publically wearing “legging stockings.”
Correct
one’s attire or sensibilities in clothing.
Make
corrections to mistakes otherwise it’s no good.
Yes,
my last fashion “faux pas” was in the summer of 2009 when I took it upon myself to write down “lyrics to songs” or “titles of
songs” or “music” on my under forearms with black sharpie marker whenever I
heard the title of a song or band I’d write it down on my forearms because I
don’t seem to remember titles or names of bands for anything.
Of
course, I loved black sharpie marker scribbles on my forearms because then
later when I went back home I did remember the almost impossible task to commit
titles or bands to memory yet almost one year later in 2010 I came to discover that only people who were recovering
from drug addiction wrote on their arms to help them get over their addictions.
(Okay.)
Well,
I did what I did only I did it out of ignorance because I
thought sharpie writing on my arm looked cool until I came to discover what sharpie
writing on one’s arms really meant to modern American “hipsters” getting over
heroin addiction. (No, thank you.)
For
as long as I’ll live I shan’t ever write on my body for anything. (Absolutely
not.)
No,
I don’t have a single tattoo on my body. (I love it.)
Okay, another example of a “faux pas” is this:
Do you know how “New Englanders’” north of
Boston saying, “Right? Right.”?
“Right?
Right.” signifies one’s laughter when one must be appropriately deadly serious
about anything at all in front of “authority” or when there’s nothing else to
be said without laughing out loud or when one mustn’t and doesn’t burst into
heaps of laughter (because one’s sophisticate classy) when one’s supposed to be extremely serious yet
there’s humor in the undertones of the communication or circumstance or
linguistics.
The
“faux pas” is when someone says, “Right. Right.” after “anything” anyone’s ever said as a simple reply to
fill up air because such any person doesn’t have anything intelligent to
contribute to the conversation or situation or linguistics.
The
“faux pas” is when anybody ignorant says, “Right. Right.” all of the time which
“Right. Right.” after anything’s said comes to mean complete and utter
gibberish or the same as saying, “I’m dumb and I don’t have anything
intelligent to say,” “I’m dumb and I don’t have anything intelligent to say…”
over-and-over again because “I’m dumb because I haven’t ever been taught what “Right? Right. means yet I copy it
without any significance or understanding” or signifier to “upper crust” blue
blooded New Englanders and they’d know immediately when one doesn’t have one
single clue about anything at all since one were to keep repeating themselves
either like any broken record or any parrot.
(Words without meaning or substance to them
or reason or logic or history are “queer” indeed. Empty words of style or sheep-like-mentality
fall to their metaphorical death over cliffs of mourning disaster.) (I can’t
seem to help it. I want to write poetry.)
(Doors get slammed shut because people get
scared of what’s not natural or what seems “odd’ or “queer” or “contrived” to
others.)
Breathe.
The
reason why one mustn’t “saunter off” or blindly or ignorantly or arrogantly
pick up others’ traditions or “copy” a look without knowing what first anything
means is because then one might get
trapped inside any social maze of aimlessly wandering around forever without
purpose while inside private parlors “everyone else” makes global plans to
contribute to the world at large by implementing global fair wages and
protective workers’ rights.
Right?
Right.
No,
not ever in my life have I ever worn “legging stockings” out in public.
Are you mad?
No,
I’m not insane.
~~~
Yes,
I wore “legging stockings” in the December 2013 “Self Portrait of an Artist”
photography series.
Yes,
I made the ever so serious decision to
wear “legging stockings / hosiery” in my photography series because last
December 2013 I blogged about how at that
time I was 164 pounds and emails arrived which asked and wondered if I was
“as huge as a house” or a “whale” (correction) or “a big fat ass.”
Out
of rebelliousness, I wore “legging stockings / hosiery” in my “Self Portrait”
photography series to better show off the contour lines of my body at 164 pounds
and not for any other reason.
Furthermore,
in last December’s 2013 “Self Portrait” series I also wore a long shirt which
covered my entire mid drift or mid section as well as my derriere and hips.
(Pay close attention.)
No,
“art” isn’t necessarily appropriate attire for “school” or “work” or
“television news” or “weather news” or “five star dining” or any other “public
social activity” or “function.”
For example:
One
of the greatest fashion “faux pas” is to wear “Yoga” pants in public (2005-2014).
“Yoga”
pants are in the same category as spandex “running tights” or “speedskating
tights” or “sports tights” which one doesn’t see through such particular
durable materials.
For
women to wear “Yoga” pants in public is the same as to wear mid-calf dark brown
socks with loafers and white boxer shorts and any sleeved white undershirt with
a side pocket on the front while women stand at makeup counters and pretend
like their inappropriate attire is Kosher while giving everyone around them the
“middle finger” ever since such women gave up on themselves and let themselves
go.
What’s
the point of looking at any gorgeous woman inappropriately dressed?
There
isn’t any point to look at any woman inappropriately dressed because most
likely she’s not prepared for her day or life or most likely she’s neither any
good as a decision maker nor much less any type of leader nor does she know
anything about “anything” when she doesn’t even seem to know how to
appropriately dress for modern female adulthood and society and basic
civility.
'She’s
nobody' and
makes sure she broadcasts such ridiculous notion to the entire world.
One
mustn’t and doesn’t publically “run” errands
or around in one’s “pajamas” or “Yoga” pants or “running tights” or
“bicycle riding tights” or any other type
of sports tights because it’s disrespectful as well as “lazy” of anyone not
to get out of their “sports clothes” or “pajamas” and change into appropriate
pedestrian clothing or attire.
(The rest of the globe’s not going to put up
with our lack of American fashion sensibility and lots of mierde styles.)
There’s
nothing uglier than to look at women who refuse to appropriately attire or
dress themselves because “comfort” seems to be all some women or men have in their
lack of style or fashion sensibilities or moral and ethical code of misconduct
in attire.
This
is serious business.
This
is serious subject matter we’re talking about here.
This
is serious topic of discussion in any Era in which 1 out of 7 women are raped
or sexually molested or sexually exploited or sexually abused or sexually
harassed or sexually assaulted across the United States of America, 2014.
Please,
put some proper pedestrian attire on and make any strong effort to look
handsome or lovely and classy and sophisticate.
Any
one wearing “legging stockings” out in public past 2014 is either “mentally
ill” or “out of date and style” or “without any parental figures” to teach and
guide their youth through what’s what
of wardrobe lifestyle and health and wellness and how attire’s properly and
correctly done.
To
wear “Yoga” pants out into the world is as bad and as inappropriate as to wear
“jeans” to any funeral.
“Yoga” pants mean one doesn’t know how to pay appropriate respect to one’s society at
large.
“Legging
stockings / hosiery” or “running tights” or “sports tights” or “Yoga” pants are
ever so crude or vulgar or inappropriate clothes to wear for “school” or “work”
or mostly any other pedestrian social functions unless one’s exercising or in
the privacy of their home.
Peace.
Cheers.
America,
please learn how to appropriately dress for success.
Yes,
I wore “legging stockings” in my December 2013 “Self Portrait” photography
series because I’m a professional artist and hold “creative license.”
However,
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in public
only wearing “legging stockings / hosiery” and nothing much else over them”
because I’m not in the habit or tendency of only wearing my underwear out in
public yet last year’s “legging stockings” held such a delicious look and color
and texture for photography which I couldn’t seem to pass up otherwise.
(Blush.) Really.
Sincerely,
With
Respectful Regard to American Wardrobe Success;
Gabriel
Self Portrait Artist Statement V
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
As of this fall
2014, I denounce high heeled shoes and
‘valuable’ jewelry for as long as I live with the exception of this series.
Finally, I found “costume
jewelry” and like it very much since I don’t have to think about breaks or
wear-and-tear or depreciation of “valuable” jewelry.
First, high heeled shoes are
gorgeous to look at on other women yet painfully backbreaking and injurious to
any physiological mechanism in the human body or anatomy.
Personally, I refuse to have
my feet bound forevermore or ever again for as long as I live unless I were to be hired to pose for a
professional photography session yet again, that,
too, can become tiresome or tedious work standing for hours at a time in high heeled shoes while posing
all at the same time.
Modeling takes talent and
patience and a strong skill set in understanding the human anatomy and its
mechanisms and camera angles and body positioning and still motion of every
single second as one stands defiantly still for the camera and slowly breathes
yet ever so calmly and subtly holds a pose and makes each position look good
and refreshed in almost every single photograph, is, well, almost remarkable. Whew.
Models make life look better
than any wrinkled shirt on a hanger.
Actually models make the
world look deliciously “drop dead gorgeous.”
Yes, I do have a great deal of respect for healthy and
professional working models (not obese or waif) who pay their taxes and contribute to society
and culture at large so that women
won’t get publically sexually harassed or molested or assaulted or raped by men
because models are smart enough to pose for fashion contributors of great
importance rather than greedy fashion mongers without any vision for the
future.
Hypothetically If I were to
get paid to wear high heeled shoes such as professional models do then possibly
I’d consider such a grueling task to pose for misogynist companies to achieve that comfortable look in high heeled
shoes because it’s all about controlling facial muscles to make one’s face look
like nothing hurts yet we all know
perfectly well how painful high
heeled shoes truly are after about a good fifteen minutes; Then, game over;
In every single room where ever there’re any women in high heeled shoes then she’s
begun to get crabby unless women “sit down and look pretty the entire time” yet and again that’s not really participation that’s the sidelines and that’s just
fine since torture sure is painful and so are high heeled shoes.
Flat shoes are where it’s at for me, forevermore.
What a tragic love story
about high heeled shoes and women’s relationship to pretty torturous objects in
this modern Era and Age of fashion that
such a relationship seems to continue to be fragile and vulnerable,
however. Not in a good way. Not like any kind girlfriend who holds one’s
best-interest-at-heart for her boyfriend’s health and wellbeing.
The relationship between
women and high heeled shoes is a relationship in which one tends to look at that one drifting cat outside of any
stranger’s window on a dark cold stormy night: pathetic, lonely and hungry,
drenched in rain water and one seems to understand perfectly well that hence one allows for the little cat
to come indoors then forevermore the little cat will leave little gifts outside
of one’s door and no matter how much the cat’s intensions may seem amorous or
filled with friendship; it’s still dead mice and birds one must dispose of with
a shovel each and every single time the cat decides to show it’s affection for
saving them from a miserable cold stormy night even though animals have been
living outside for tens of thousands of years just as bound tortured feet have
been a considerable part of fashionable culture at large for thousands of years.
High heeled shoes aren’t
natural in the least bit and that’s what ultimately makes high heeled shoes so
unfashionably dangerous to even so much as to consider that which is torturous to be perceived as something beautiful is
to equivocally bend all logic or reason to abide by violence and disrespect not
love for all humanity.
If men wore torture devices
on their feet then would women consider such a style or look or fashion
statement beautiful or handsome? No.
If men wore torture devices
on their feet then women would hurt for our beloved ones. We would wish for our
beloveds’ pain to seize-to-exist because we care about the overall health of
our beloved men.
-----
I love fashionable classic
modest sensual durable fashion for and of
this modern age and era.
Contemporary types of
fashion move me to compassion and inspiration.
What's there not
to love about fashionable clothes?
What's there not
to love about wearable art?
Everything, there’s to love about
smart, strong, compassionate, durable sensual modest classic fashionable
fashion is such particular fashion supports and loves like a best husband
friend who’s a man’s man with dignity, clam patience and strength, stamina and
everything robust male essence.
To become captivated by
wearable art which doesn’t fall off
of one’s body parts or limbs does feel exactly like being held at the waist by
one’s husband’s gentle hands in which his grip is tender yet strong and
compassionate and full of loving grace at all times. Such a stronghold won’t
allow for women to fall over or down and that’s warmth and security and
protection all rolled up into one sleeve.
Fashion is ever
so political and holds a strong potential for controlled positive raw attitude
and good intensions to culturally and
economically revolutionize an entire industry from within as well as an overall
corrupt system (no differently than any other corrupt industry) which allow for our global Brothers and
Sisters to work under harsh and desperate and inhumane work conditions and
situations in which literally
buildings collapse and fall down all the while killing villages of work forces
of hard workers in Bangladesh’s garment district and around the globe for that matter. Indeed, how gruesomely
tragic. That’s not respect for one’s industry. That's pillage and blunder.
Bangladesh’s torturous
industrial beauty is too harsh to swallow here in the United States of America
when inflation is skyrocket and the last time Americans saw any significant
wage increase was in the 1950’s.
The reason as to why
Americans don’t want to purchase “blood fashion” is because our citizens and
civilians bled for this nation ever since our Nation was first established and
well before since.
Yes, people shed blood over
animal pelts and vehemently fought over territory to pillage further forests
and wildlife for the sake of fur hats and fur coats while partially decimating
the greatest wild spirit: Our Native American Tribes of the Northern
Hemisphere’s Western Continent and other global regions which the same history
applies to different Indigenous groups and their war torn and bloodshed
lands...
We realize and understand
and know all too well the ever so horrific and startling history of fashion.
-----
Personally, we
don’t consume much fashion, however, what we do fashionably consume is minimal
and contemporary and durable gear for the ever changing seasons.
Personally, as of late I
like to consume (shop) online (internet) for clothing essentials or basics,
however.
Regardless of this
‘Information Revolution’ we quickly discovered many fashion company websites
are not only ‘slow as molasses’ or such fashion websites divert (steer away)
consumers or online “users” or shoppers from shopping and instead redirects
them towards social media (which that’s not the main reason or purpose mature
consumer adults shop online in the first place.)
Mature adults directly
navigate through consumer websites to spend money and not to have to deal with
obnoxious “monkey on their backs” “jumping through hoops” games.
Not to be able to even so much as to look upon any merchandise pictures or
find out basic information about such products is any recipe for disaster.
To only be granted one option
to click to “Pinterest” is to deny a full range of motion to any consumer and
such mere act conveys social online media is supposedly far more valuable an
act than to spend money on any product one requires or needs or wants to
purchase.
In other words: web developers say, “no, don’t look at merchandise, simply and
only directly go to social media and waste more valuable time on nothing.”
In other words: web engineers say, “we don’t want your money because it’s not as
important as social media which costs nothing.”
In other words: web engineers say, “don’t spend any money here only look at how
cool we think we are as any cultural website made of cheese puffs running on
empty calories.”
Such priorities are
backwards and dull to say the least.
If consumers desire to link
onto social media then most likely they’ll do it on their own time and not
while they privately shop for undergarments.
Or when consumers are
steered towards an extensive list of endless logins and passwords in which such any type of diversion
mainly wastes precious and important consumer time and possibly enforces any
shopping experience to become nearly impossible to multi-generationally enjoy.
Or when any fashion company
website (somewhat moronically laid out websites, loosely used terminology) and its software developers and engineers
“design” for “users” or shoppers to click
away from any company product or digital “checkout” line then no one wants
to shop there because such a website becomes a collegiate experience instead of
an adult mature consumer experience.
There’s nothing more
annoying than “checking out” (payment) on the same fashion company website from
which one purchases online goods and products on average every three months or
so and each time have the “checkout line” force one to type in one’s email and
“checkout password” when most people don’t seem to remember what they ate for
breakfast each morning. (What a waste of time.)
Mature consumer adults want
to shop: get in and get out since
adults don’t have time to waste on such frivolities otherwise adults shan’t
shop “there” if their precious time gets wasted by teenage web developers with
nothing better to do than talk about nail polish color and ugly plastic pink
bow barrettes and flip flops.
Mature adult consumers are
capable of spending hundreds if not then thousands of dollars all at once.
Factually young people are
broke.
Mature adults are ‘banking
it.’
No mature adult wants to be
reminded of college because college was almost fifteen years ago and mostly
peoples’ lives and careers and experiences moved forward as all natural
progression does.
To stay young forever is
ever so creepy and pedophile in nature.
Buck up and mature and
become responsible mature adults.
Welcome to an amazing adult
world with lots of fun filled mature activities in which adults take
responsibility for their spending habits and fashion and lifestyle since
awesome and sensually intelligent people do.
Consumers mustn’t get stuck
in time warps therefore mature consumer adults aren’t creeps like some or many
young people who have very little to no experience with the real world or money
or time thus such younger generations seem “lost” or quick to “fill up” their
lifestyles with anything which happens to come along and stupidly “numbs out
pain” only for the sake of how empty their lifestyles or fashion or general
styles seem to convey to others at large.
Time stands still for no human.
Nevertheless and regardless of how consumers are guided
(forced) to face endless dribble of mindless misinformation as well as
consumers are mandatorily made to remember useless passwords when one can
barely remember what one had for breakfast the same morning then there’s nothing more to be said.
Silence.
-----
Why aren’t consumers allowed
to directly checkout?
Why must one fill out
numerous packets of information?
Why must consumers get stuck
with elementary homework assignments each and every time they desire to make
any purchase?
On average these packets of
information take anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes for fill in.
If such a computer program
doesn’t like the information filled-in then one might get stuck with a bum
computer program for as long or as little as an hour re-typing and re-typing in
correct and personal information yet the program might be finicky about zip
codes or street addresses or this or that.
By then any consumer wishes
to do is to either “kill a small rodent with their bare hands” or “throw their tablet
out the window” or “more precisely not ever return to such an immature
nightmarish fashion company website no matter how great the sales might be.”
Mature adults refuse to hang
out with immature adults because one
knows what they say, “you become what you surround yourself with.”
To “steer away” or “to
divert” any consumer from making an online purchase is like an unspoken body language makes a profound statement which
implies web developers and modern and younger software engineers haven’t ever studied
either Global History or international law or business or linguistic
complexities or war strategy or philosophy or music or poetry or calligraphy or
film or graphic arts or visual media or psychology or The Humanities or, or,
or…
When consumers are forced to “jump through moronic hoops” (collegiate; cloistered,
idealistic, unworldly, naïve, removed, airy-fairy) then there’s nothing more to be said between parties involved and
all lines of communication are lost or purposely cut off by consumers because
to “corner” or “force” or “misdirect” any consumer to play some morbid game of “chase your tail” is not only ignorant
and arrogant of fashion company website designers and developers as well as
thoughtless and mindless about the psychology and nature of humans.
No more purchases need to be
made at such fashion company websites since such “online hosts” aren’t good at
what they do.
These particular fashion
company websites which dare cultivate a complete waste of value are:
“Timewasters,” who don’t uphold to respectful or valuable outcomes to society
or culture at large ergo weakening the structure of an overall bottom line and
diminishing any position of any fashion company website’s power in relationship
to their consumers.
Humans can always live with
less garbage and not more.
Yes, take time with humans.
No, mature consumer adults
shan’t have to spend an hour with a “bunk” or “immature” or “slow” computer
software program simply and only because such a program is “badly written code”
or manipulative or demanding by nature according to how its code or sequencing
was written or established.
How any computer code is
written or laid out says a whole lot about the intelligence or lack thereof on
the part of any software developer. Computer software programs say so much more
about developers than they’ll ever know.
We could ‘lick’ fashion
company websites by writing complex code simple-enough to navigate and
incredibly human friendly as a support system.
We don’t have time to write
code or design software programs because instead of doing so I now sit here
deconstructing and analyzing the world to make it a better and more profoundly
mature adult place in order for us to stop wars and create compassion through
understanding and further complex development of the frontal cortex.
This decade long economic
crises decimated the quality of merchandise which sure did ‘go out the window.’
Customer service became
atrocious, if not abusive.
Within this decade long economic
downturn, Americans begun to believe ignorance is acceptable through arrogance
at the mere fact which hardly anybody’s capable of being accountable for
anything anymore because Americans confuse responsibility with dirty filthy
money.
Within the past decade, we
came to find out: If Americans don’t have cash in their pockets then Americans
refuse to be humane or responsible for their actions. (Tragic. Really.)
It’s as if though Americans
became “retarded” in the pursuit of justice.
-----
One of the main reasons to
browse online merchandise is either to gather creative ideas or to make
purchases.
When any savvy online consumer adult gets trapped or “forced” to
“choose” any selective minimal range of limited options to “login” into any
thoughtless or irresponsive computer program or system before making any final purchase then it’s like getting forced to
play a game of “wander around inside the maze” for hours.
“User logins” and
“passwords” are optional modes of operation and such computer programs ought
not to coerce any consumer into digital traps of endless and meaningless
miscommunication between humans and software programs since humans aren’t
animal pelts to be skinned alive and separated from their expensive time and
energy.
There’s nothing more moronic
or uncouth than a “timewaster.”
The possibility of getting
lost inside any maze might seem like fun for the first thirty seconds, however.
After the initial thirty
seconds are up then consumers desperately want to opt out of any online “check
out” maze.
Consumers want to stop
themselves from aimlessly wandering and exhaustively having to look around for
an exodus when in reality consumers know perfectly well they could waste hours
and it’s not much fun when winter’s clipping along on our heels.
Hence one makes an exit from
any type of disorganized or ignorant or moronic online maze (without a direct
line of path to an end in sight) then one doesn’t desire back-in any time soon thereafter because immature digital systems may become irritatingly
bothersome.
Such endless traps of
meaningless clatter do keep consumers from their ultimate goal, which happens to be to make a purchase as
quickly as possible towards any fashion company website’s “checkout” line with all limbs intact and peace of mind and glad tidings to be spending one’s hard earned dollars on purchases
which most likely we won’t even need or require for a dependable survival or
thriving status of the human race.
Our planet is ever overpopulated
by sea and land and space garbage.
Who needs more garbage?
No species needs more added
garbage to our Earth or planetary system or oceans.
Without essential or vital
information about merchandise (in general) or as to even how much merchandise
costs, or which color options the merchandise comes-in, then any consumer is
robbed of “real” options and solutions towards wise decision making about their
purchases and smart choices are what creates any strong economic outcome.
Thus no sale is made.
Consumers aren’t going to randomly purchase for the sake of making
a purchase when Americans have almost ‘licked’ two recessions in a decade
long economic battle thus when consumers don’t know what something costs or
what it’s made of then humans tend to stay as far away from making purchases
since what we don’t know is what we’re scared of.
It’s not acceptable to
“click” on a menu button to make a potential purchase (window shopping) of any
t-shirt (per se) and have a picture of such t-shirt enlarged on one’s tablet
screen only to discover there’s absolutely no information about such
merchandise with the exception of the option to “like” or “tweet” or
“Pinterest” any product without the ability to find out sizing or in which
colors one might consider making a purchase or even so much as without the possibility to head towards an online
“checkout” line. (What.)
It’s not acceptable to go to
an online store in which an entire “main page” or column of merchandise doesn’t
even so much as show-up on any window’s drop menu (day-after-day and
week-after-week) thus leaving one square picture of merchandise with an imprinted icon of a blue question mark
as though the maintenance engineers don’t know their company or industry or
business or product or ‘don’t give a hoot’ as to whether a consumer may or may not have options to best make
decisions for themselves thus creating a cycle of mistrust between companies
and consumers since such company’s engineers aren’t keeping up with their work
and it shows quite evidently as clear as day.
Such fashion company
websites aren’t kept up to standard or up to maintenance or even so much as
open for business.
So, are online stores open
for business or not?
It doesn’t seem like it.
“Are you being served?” No.
To imply an icon
or picture of any given product is solely and only there for social media’s
entertainment value is to definitely and without a question signify there’s no
purchasing power in the selling of merchandise.
To imply such idiotic tendencies
as to which, and however, then one doesn’t comprehend consumer value or
purchasing power.
It’s only to say one doesn’t
understand the history of trade (and that can only mean that...) one’s
without power thus without… the commitment to uphold to accountability thus
losing out on annual millions of dollars in profit or revenue.
-----
Yes, I’ve given
up wearing two dollar flip flops instead for thirty dollar flip flops because
flip flops are terrible for the spine no matter what so I might as well wear
decent quality flip flops.
Yes, it’s classic
and contemporary fashionable for women of any age to cover up their cleavage
and breasts and vaginas unless they’re strip dancers or prostitutes and give
free peep shows to perverts.
However, not even strip
dancers or prostitutes give anything away for free so what is it about private
citizen and civilian American women which they so badly wish to give their
breasts and vaginas away for free when rape and sexual assault are the number
one crime across American college campuses and the military and in our culture
at large.
Yes, the number
one shoes men hate on women are “wedges” since not only are wedges the ugliest
design ever made, however. Wedge shoes are also some of the most dangerous
ankle twisting shoes ever made. (Why do gay designers hate women so much?)
Yes, the number
one style of shirt or dress men hate on women are “peplums” since a little
extra piece of material adds to hip volume.
A bit of extra material does
seem to draw attention to the hips area which mostly women desire to hide
rather than accentuate.
Yes, suede boots
will literally freeze toes and feet.
It’s any wonder as to why
boot designers and manufacturers are into “suede” winter-and-snow boots this
season when any Minnesotan or Bostonian will tell you when suede becomes damp
and eventually gets soaking wet from snow then quite quickly one’s toes begin
to freeze and after about five minutes frost bite sets into the toes making the
skin go completely white with a strong possibility of extremities turning black
and fall off after about twenty minutes in freezing cold weather of about -25
below zero. (Why do gay designers hate women so much?)
In Minnesota we contend with
-25 below freezing cold winter weather and must have rubber covered toe boots
and heels and the rest of the boot must be made of some wind and water
resistant material.
A proper winter-and-snow
boot must have “3M Thinsulate” lining.
More precise
Historical Correction:
In the 1970’s, men who’d
been WWII prisoners of war swore by “3M Thinsulate” because they’d faced the
harsh reality in which they were marched to prison camps by the Nazis and many
witnessed other American soldiers or comrades who froze through Germany’s vast
forests in freezing cold weather in which many men dropped dead or died
standing up or sitting down and their bodies were left to litter the forested
landscape like frozen statutes until spring came to decompose and become part
of fertile land forgiving all war torn bloodshed amongst nations while prisoner
of war’ souls still and forevermore haunt such forests.
If one’s winter boots aren’t
equipped with “3M Thinsulate” or rubber heel and toe base then such boots
aren’t worth much of a productive and active filled lifestyle.
Without “3M Thinsulate”
lining then one’s literally dead.
-----
To become
fashionable or to be fashionable then one must study and know and understand
Global History.
One shan’t allow for history to repeat itself otherwise one
becomes another uneducated doorknob hick slave master whipping the rest of the
world into submission and into one’s desired whims to rape the land and women
and men and children.
One must not become any slave consuming master because you know
what happens to any slave consuming master, right?
Slave consuming masters must live with the crimes they commit
against humanity and that’s any heavy burden to carry for any man or woman.
Please, learn history
otherwise one won’t know who one is or where one’s going.
History is the key to our
future success.
Please, learn the right
lessons.
Please, learn not to do
wrong by others.
Please, learn to make peace
offerings to one’s enemies and mean it.
Please, learn to do right by
others.
Please, learn compassion for
humanity and animals and plant life.
Please, learn to be soft yet
humanely respectfully firm with one’s boundaries.
Please, learn mature and
competent adulthood responsibility and accountability hence as sensually
beautiful as any human can be.
Please, learn how to forgive
especially when others aren’t capable to ask for one’s forgiveness when other
wrongly or deeply injured or wounded thee.
Please, learn to humble
thyself enough to ask for forgiveness.
Please, learn to be
forgiven.
Please, learn to uphold to
rules and abide by reasonable and logical laws hence rules are set in place for
a very good safety reason.
Please, learn rules and
boundaries are mainly there for safety and not to stifle anyone’s creativity or
needs to express themselves otherwise one might learn the wrong lesson about
mature adulthood freedom and either get themselves killed or injured or hurt.
Please, learn money has
absolutely nothing to do with advancing culture or civilization.
Please, learn money is a
necessary evil yet don’t make money into any form or type of a God(s) or such a
demon will surely posses one’s very heart and soul deeming one a walking
carcass.
Please, learn the most
valuable aspect to life isn’t centered on money.
Please, learn to be
hygienic.
Please, learn be gentle yet
firm.
Please, learn to be
fashionable without breaking the bank.
Please, learn to keep up
with contemporary fashion otherwise one doesn’t want to turn into “Grey
Gardens.”
Please, learn quality
fashion can be found at cost.
Please, learn not to look
down upon others who are less fortunate.
Please, learn donate your
“good condition” fashions to people who need them most.
Please, learn to donate
coats for children and youth and adults in need.
Please, learn “to let go.”
Please, learn to keep one’s
wardrobe stocked and if at all possible then share what little one has with
others when one’s done with any item.
Please, learn when one
requires to replace clothes then do so not
because advertisement campaigns tells one that one must seasonally purchase
something “new” rather because
clothes are a great short and long term investment.
Please, learn quality trumps
fashion.
Please, learn fashion trumps
style.
Please, learn we must get Americans
out of the year 1992 and back on track with the rest of modern global society
otherwise our masses will eventually turn into “Grey Gardens” and go insane
with delusional self-aggrandizing ideals while feeding raccoons which live in
the attic.
Please, learn Americans are
still quite “broke” and haven’t updated their wardrobes in twenty-two years.
Please, learn fashion isn’t
only political.
Please, learn fashion is
about humanitarian risk taking.
Please, learn others have
very little means to fashion.
Please, learn to give grace
and thanks for what one does have.
Please, learn to be content
with one’s little bit of Earth.
Please, learn not to contribute to anymore consumer
garbage.
Please, learn less is more.
Please, learn “abundance” is
indeed good fortune yet it doesn’t last forever.
Please, learn in my book: One’s made it when one does and can finally
afford good quality made Patagonia products since according to the Ancient Maya
(as it was written in stone two thousand years ago) a “cold freeze” is coming our way and it’ll last the next thirty-five
years and fashionable well-made outdoor gear is going to be all the rage when the possibility to freeze to death
becomes tangible.
Please, learn (once again)
to survive in cold freezing weather -35 below zero.
Please, learn to share food
or small inexpensive resources like matches or tissue.
Please, learn to “look out
for others.”
Please, learn contemporary
psychologists consider egocentric and narcissistic and egotistical and
sociopathic propensities as forms of mental illness.
Please, learn how to change
so one may become happier and more content with less.
Please, learn to use the
word “please” more often.
Please, learn “The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth.
Pura
Vida
“To
the Good Life” (According to the Costa Rican greeting.)
Gabriel
Gabriela
de la Holm
Self Portrait Artist Statement IV
Monday, June 24, 2013
The Self Portraits for the
month of May 2013 haven’t been color corrected or ‘touched’ or airbrushed or sharpened
or manipulated for publication.
It’s not only obvious that these self portraitures are raw in their original form; Also
these photographs are as beautiful as if they’d been doctored and that goes for
the backdrops as well (yep, no color correction.)
Why are the original self portraitures as beautiful as if they’d
been doctored?
The photos are just as
beautiful as any because it’s rare to come across photographs in their original
form much less with cosmetic mistakes.
It seems as though we live
in an era in which our commercial publishers hide any imperfections for the
purpose of publicity or marketing and by all means: It’s the nature of the beast.
Nevertheless, when it comes
to art drenched in pure creative refinement then sky’s the limit.
Henceforth, being that I
don’t have to force my selling hand at anyone like a commercial vendor does
then I don’t have to push my goods or services upon the good people because I
don’t have to sell my private work to the public.
Yes, I love the scratchy
sounds of old records.
Listening to old records
reminds me of snowy afternoons.
The sound of scratched records because it gives music a deep rich tone and high grade quality
sound. The closer one gets to the raw quality of art then the closer one gets
to any artist’s vision of perfection.
Imperfections are beautiful
not because it ‘sounds good’ or ‘trendy’ to say it but because if you’ve ever
really studied scar tissue or looked at a scratch upon an old photograph or
listened to the sound of an old record then you’d realize that imperfections
are lovely, sensual and real.
Why is it?
It is the way it is because
in the subtleties of one’s mind one may feel closer to something authentic or
raw and honest opposed to so much of that, which is manufactured for us.
The recordings of artists
who are dedicated to pulling out the richest tones and sounds from their
instruments are some of my favorite artists.
Sounds like that make me think of the Gunflint Trail in which a cacophony of wild
animals in the forest are as real as humankind can get near and closer to
himself without a single lie; just as silence holds a calm breath of life
without ever telling any lies.
As an individual who’s been
collecting wild nature sounds for about a decade; I like to record in mono
because the sound comes across as flat to my ear and closer to the rich tones
of its soul, if you will; (amuse me.)
When I listen to recordings
done in mono I can imagine our friends at their studios in Iceland, Sweden,
Finland, Norway, Denmark, Holland, New Zealand, Scotland and Ireland working
away at the many textures and layers of sound to create food for the imagination.
Absolutely, I feel as close
to their recordings as I do to my own work because I can imagine them hard at
work in their studios producing music that enriches our global culture and
their music pushes for me to become a better photographer and writer and
filmmaker.
To the core I’m moved by
music but more so by movement and words and lyrics.
To my soul I’m moved by
anything that has meaning and compassion and intelligence.
Pura Vida
“To the Good Life” (According to the
Costa Rican greeting.)
Gabriel
Gabriela de la Holm
P.S
No, I’m not a “Bleeding Heart” liberal by nature.
However,
I can understand compassion.
Why
wouldn’t I understand compassion? No? Yes? Yes.
No,
we didn’t plant the “Bleeding Hearts.”
No,
we don’t have time for secret loves.
No,
we don’t have time for extra marital affairs.
Backdrop Photographs: “Bleeding Heart.”
(Correction.)
Self Portrait Artist Statement III
Friday, March 29, 2013
Scattering of the People
Pg. 197
1
When you came attacking, why
did you not
have more men?
Why didn’t you bring more
men so that
You would be a little
stronger?
2
Long Hair has never returned
yet, so his wife
is crying all around.
Looking over, she cries.
3
Long Hair, guns I hadn’t
any.
You brought me some.
I thank you.
You make me laugh!
4
Long Hair, horses I hadn’t
any.
You brought me some.
I thank you.
You make me laugh!
5
Long Hair, where he lies
nobody knows.
Crying they seek him.
He lies over here.
6
Let go your holy irons
[guns].
You’re not manly enough to
do any harm.
7
An attacker, I drew him.
Before he did any harm, I wiped
him out.
***
Poetic Justice
Part I
(Soliloquy I)
Oh, taking decent self
portraits is tough to accomplish at the best of times like excellent
communication or equal and respectful boundaries among strangers and having
them uphold to social contracts which they very seldom know anything about such
as good manners or social status etiquette and standardized integrity (no,
we’re not talking doilies here.)
Note: In the recent self portrait series (November 2012) I succeed in
taking great eye-ball angle shots into the mirror and proved to the entire
world I’m not cross-eyed.
However, I didn’t succeed on the overall sharp-focus of the
photographs.
(Ever since I’ve begun to exhibit
Carpal Tunnel Syndrome I don’t tend to hold the camera as well as I used to for
long periods of time and it seems to be the reason why I’m always in search of
the lightest cameras rather than the fanciest or the most expensive.)
Eventually, I accomplished one cinematic element, well-enough,
while I failed at another therefore I did use Photoshop’s contrast-tool to bring a sharp focus to the images rather than to
Photoshop-out my blemishes. I’ll use Photoshop to correct some of my
photographic blunders more so than my physical imperfections.
As it might, I don’t mind showing anyone I’m human and imperfect,
nevertheless, I want others to see the best possible images especially when I
fail as a human since my body does fail me as any flesh-and-bone mortality
does.
****
No, I don’t wear makeup on a daily basis since I’m highly allergic
to the harsh and synthetic chemicals in makeup (I break out in rashes) thus
I’ve learned to live-in-peace and co-exist within a happy existence without
applying makeup to my face.
It’s either rashes or a naked face.
Absolutely, I chose the healthier latter.
The greatest consolation prize about not wearing any makeup at all
is I look the same all the time.
Yes, I like makeup.
Yes, I don’t seem to be able to bring myself to wear makeup since
makeup outbreaks and allergy reactions seem to take about four to five weeks to
get over any breakout episode even when it’s the most expensive organic / vegan
makeup on the market.
Yes, I get these tremendous allergic chemical reactions to some
organic / vegan lipsticks in which my throat begins to ‘close-up’. I can barely
breathe while I try to gasp for air.
The chemical reaction feels like I’m suffocating.
It’s the weirdest thing in the entire world.
No, this allergic reaction isn’t psychosomatic. It’s real. It
happens in the same way it happens to people who get severe allergic reactions
to strawberries or cashews.
Have you ever seen someone pass out due to a chemical reaction?
One would think people were dying probably because most likely
they are dying in fleeting moments between the fine balance of life and
drawing-in another breath.
It’s quite serious to be in any room with someone going into
anaphylactic shock from strawberries especially due to the proteins (and / or
pesticides) in strawberries.
If you ever get to witness anaphylactic shock then it’ll bring
tears to your eyes hence it looks so agonizing for the poor soul suffering
through it.
Yes, I’ve seen it once. I could barely breathe watching the severe
intensity of the pain in a lovely young teenage-girl whose family had sailed
into Atlantic City as we had.
My soul felt for her. I, too, myself, was only fourteen-years of
age as I watched her fight a tremendous battle between life-and-death as she
drew-in every breath-of-life possible which she could while her entire face
became swollen three times its original size.
Her father hurried to get epinephrine into a syringe and
administer a shot.
Barely, I couldn’t help but to stand ever-so-quietly as my father
gently rested his hands upon my shoulders while I screamed inside my head,
‘Hurry! Hurry! She’s so lovely!’ Life hung by a delicate balance between death
and breath.
*****
Yes, the only times I’ve
gone into anaphylactic shock is when I’ve eaten tomatoes in Costa Rica.
While about my travels, I do have to be extremely careful or I’ll
send myself to the nearest hospital sixteen hours away by dirt road.
For some reason my throat closes up and I can barely breathe and
my face and entire body swell up and I contract nickel-size hives from head to
toe.
In the past, it’s taken me about two full days to recover even
when I’ve slept sixteen-hour-days to recover, I still felt as though I’d been
hit by a ten ton truck and it’s because I had. Each time, felt like a blow to
the stomach. Each episode left me ever so tired for about a year afterward.
Right afterwards, the persons who’d been there and witnessed while
I recuperated told me ‘everything’ I needed to know by the look of terror upon
their faces.
No one seemed to understand my insides felt like they’d been set
on fire and my skin hurt to the touch. It was indeed serious business even
though I made it look easy and simply
treated my condition more like the flu while in front of others. I knew
perfectly well I’d had a close brush with death. I pray to the Gods each and every single day for excellent health,
strength, beauty, grace, endurance and calm-tranquility.
One knows these things about themselves even when others may not.
Doesn’t one?
Yes, one knows when one comes close to death.
******
Yes, I wake-up with the same
face as I go to bed.
The reason why our peers continue to tell me I haven’t aged a day
past our twenties even though I
received my first-hairline-fracture of a wrinkle one week ago and worked mighty
hard for my first wrinkle.
Mighty proud I am of my first wrinkle. It looks quite sexy where
it is. It’s definitely my rite of passage into adulthood. Even so, I still look
quite youthful.
One week ago, I clumsily bought an over-the-counter chemically
filled anti-aging cream which left my one eye-lid swollen half-shut and one of
my cheek bones looks more like someone punched me than a brutal allergic
chemical reaction (no, Eric’s not ever laid a hand upon me nor I, him.)
The swollen and bruised cyst looks embarrassing and quite painful.
No, I can’t tell you enough about how delicate my skin is when it
comes to makeup. It was only a gel-cream I used three days in a row.
Yes, I loathe all of the cosmetic garbage sold at a high mark-up
to ignorant consumers (like myself) who don’t know any better.
Preferably, I’ll age with a bare face rather than with pain and
suffering of swollen skin from harsh allergic chemical reactions.
How could anyone not feel terrible for the little bunny-rabbits
which cruelly get used to test chemicals in makeup laboratories for the benefit
of humans? (For over twenty-years I’ve been completely and totally against
animal testing.)
Since half of my eye-lid was swollen shut imagine what such scoundrels must do to poor suffering test subject
animals?
We’ve been informed some (many) chemists place makeup drops
directly into animals’ eye-balls and observe and test for their reactions.
(Disgusting. Gross.)
Can you imagine working in cosmetic chemical laboratories where
the animals scream and cry and beg for mercy? Nope.
My heart would break in half.
We wouldn’t be able to do it.
It leads me to think chemicals ought to be completely and totally
taken off the market when animal cruelty is a main process.
High-quality organic-and-vegan cosmetics need to take over the
market. It’s time. Welcome to a new century. Period.
*******
All who respect and love me
and know me to-be-me; ‘they get what they see’ and don’t ever
think twice about my naked face being wrong or gross or different since I don’t
wear any makeup.
Begin Segway:
(There follows)
When I cry which is seldom-in-private and hardly ever-in-public (unless I’ve been manipulated to cry (the
last time, two-springs ago, 2011) by simpletons below my social status, cruel
bi-polar types or mean alcoholics, heroin or cocaine addicts which I’m, too,
old to allow for them use me anymore for documentary purposes, however, when
I’ve been pushed to the limit by addicted lowbrow women who’ve pushed one, too,
many buttons late-at-night or have told me I have no emotions whatsoever for
not wearing them ‘upon my sleeve’ then I’ve allowed myself to feel quite hurt
by people who didn’t have my best-interest-at-heart. After months-and-months of
getting emotionally terrorized I’ve publically cried in front of people I
hardly knew yet I worked amongst them. I think addicted American women can be
mean-spirited and they secretly wish to take anyone down to their level
especially when they have nothing, whether they’re rich or poor. It’s normally
been people with drug and / or alcohol addictions (no, not moderates) who can
wear me down and the reason for why I don’t hang out with people who want to
tear down my soul especially when it’s the last thing they think they can get
away with in their delusional alcoholic-and-drug addicted dependent minds).
People sure are crazy. Where’s the moderation?
End Segway:
********
Soliloquy I
(Continues)
When I seldom cry my mascara
doesn’t tend to run all over the place since I don’t wear any.
No, I don’t ever end-up looking like The Joker or a raccoon.
That’s indeed a saving grace.
No, I don’t think wearing a bare face is gross.
Only insecure women say such words about other women not wearing makeup or being unable to as well as choosing not to wear makeup
because of health issues or lifestyle choices.
Contemporary men don’t ‘give a hoot’ if women do or don’t wear
makeup.
If any man demands for a
modern woman to wear makeup then he’s either emasculated or has serious
Neanderthal control issues. Run!
Since the fall of 1996, I’ve
been allergic to mold from wet and damp leaves on the ground and grass. My eyes
constantly water on-and-off throughout the year.
At times I look like I’m softly
weeping but I’m not.
[If I were to cry then others will know it because when I cry, I
don’t care who hears or sees me cry. As a child I was taught by the Indigenous
to purge myself of all horrible emotion. When I cry, I mean business and as an
adult I cry alone. Wailing doesn’t
mean I’m sad. Actually ‘wailing’ means I’m eradicating malevolence and…] (Wow,
cultural differences sure are tough. No wonder there’s so much racism and
cultural misunderstanding in America.)
Since my eyes slightly water on-and-off throughout the days from
the moment I wake-up until the moment I fall asleep I’m not able to wear
eye-liner or mascara and well, that’s
that.
When anybody’s children get terrible allergies as I do then they
wouldn’t judge women (such as myself) about not wearing makeup at all.
After seventeen years of watery eyes and the rubbing away at tears
I’ve stretched the skin under my eyes and created slight lines.
Such lines are hardly noticeable yet they’re there.
Yes, I’ve learned to live with such lines and to love them because
they tell the story of this life.
I’ve become ever so gentle at drying my eyes which such patience creates
balance in the force of one’s Chi.
*********
Part II
(Soliloquy II)
(Prose I)
I don’t consider myself any
real great beauty by any means yet as I grow older the more people have
approached me and told me I’m beautiful. It makes me truly bashful. (Thank you.
We’ll leave it at that.)
No, I don’t need to be “petted on-the-head” or “fed cookies.”
No, I’m not some ashamed hotdog maker’s daughter from Buffalo, New
York.
Yes, I’m my own Mother.
My New England Grandmother
was my ‘only’ Mother.
Yes, I’m an Adult Woman.
Yes, I’m my now my own
Mother.
Yes, I was bestowed Villages
of Mothers.
How lucky, indeed.
Yes, I do take care of my emotional
needs more so importantly I baby myself in ways I didn’t before I stopped
taking care of needy dysfunctional people.
If I can help it then I don’t
draw attention to myself.
Mist likely I may come and go as softly and as quietly as any solo
panther does.
(Nope. There’s nothing creepy about confident and smart and
intelligent loners with impeccable manners and good taste, so long as they’re
not super anti-social.)
However, I find people really do want to look at me so I let them
even though my face is faintly scarred from twenty-five years (more-or-less) of
dealing with food allergies ever since I was first adopted at the age of ten.
(No, I don’t make enough enzymes or the correct stomach bacteria
to process chemically or genetically modified American made foods especially if
the food isn’t organic or vegan. The reason why my liver is constantly pushing
out toxins via my skin is because my liver portrays poor function.) (In other
words, I’ve got a weak liver.)
Yes, at times my intestines overheat and my lungs are damp. I love
to eat honey and cucumbers, although, not together since honey’s a good
antioxidant.
First, I no longer begin my mornings with one teaspoon of honey
since we quit eating honey and sugar all together.
If one were to contend with
acne then please stay away from traditional Chinese “hot foods” such as
apricots, pineapple (which I adore), oats, carp, celery, cayenne, cherries,
chicken, butter (yum), coconut, dates, lamb, malt, mussels, mustard, nectarine,
peach, plums, shrimp, brown sugar, turkey and turmeric or oolong teas. (What a
bummer.)
Do eat: Banana, beer, beans, bran, cottage cheese, crab (yum), cucumber,
duck (yum), eggplant, frog’s legs (tastes like chicken), lettuce, mango, melon,
mulberries, octopus, oysters, pumpkin, rabbit, rhubarb, cane sugar, summer
squash, sunflower seeds, tangerine, tofu, tomato, watermelon, wheat, and wheat
germ and green teas.
Yes, I abhor antibiotics or hormones in any foods. (Gross.)
We’ll go to great lengths to purchase foods without antibiotics or
hormones in them because ever since our little boys in America now grow
breast-buds from the plastics in soda bottles and the inner lining in potato
chip bags (too much estrogen in plastics) while our little eight-year-old girls
get their puberty at such a young age from antibiotics in the meats, dairies,
etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
What have we done in the exchange for greed?
**********
Part III
(Soliloquy III)
(Prose II)
No, I’m not shy.
Yes, I’m confident.
Yes, I may get confidently
shy.
Yes, I may enter any room
and speak with anyone about anything
at all with comfort and ease.
No, I’m not prejudiced about my conversational partners so long as
they’re intelligent, kind and smart and keep their hands to themselves rather
than ‘paw’ at me.
If others begin to emotionally
pinch or dig into me or judge without first getting to know what I think then
I’m gone with the night sky.
Open and frank conversations are gifts from the Gods which their
guiding force was bestowed upon me ever since childhood.
Yes, I hold the power to make people feel totally and completely
at ease with themselves while holding real and intelligent conversations even if the conversation were to become about
bird flock migrations or different types of dirt or stomach bacteria or history
or the latest political current events or real
music and socio-political fashions and socio-economics.
We don’t talk film with strangers unless they can really talk shop with us otherwise tell
us something we don’t already know about our craft which happens to be a lot I
don’t always know.
We love getting surprised by perfect strangers but a know-it-all
is just that, a know-it-all looking for their next job especially when they’re
a complete turn off to others.
No, I’m not “the” most
fashionable woman, alive, however. I do most certainly like to read fashion
literature and look at pretty pictures of healthy models.
Yes, I tend to wear a professional utilitarian uniform of petite
brown or grey or navy thin-ribbed or soft yet durable corduroys or modern
non-print or long-sleeved or dark-navy-blues with see-through “chiffon”
(correction) blouses with straight lined ‘Camisoles’ underneath or feminine
dress-shirts in which the sleeves may be beautifully folded and buttoned at the
elbow or feminine beautifully fitted suit coat jackets with soft or grey shirts
with Crew Necklines (a type of cut in a shirt or) t-shirts underneath.
It’s a uniform easy to move-in when I want to pick up a camera and
capture digital footage at a moment’s notice without looking grungy.
(I’m always ready to
film, however. I do stay away from filming unless it’s time for pre production.
I’ve got way, too, much other business to conduct other than to film most of
the time.)
Yes, I stick to what’s semi-business casual (outdoorsy, durable
and classic) and comfortable yet respectful and proper attire to conduct
business in my industry as an independent filmmaker and entrepreneur and
capitalist and researcher and analyst and writer and engineer.
Yes, I’ll admit I’m closer to a Maoist in fashion style than a
fashionable modern American woman.
Please, don’t get me started about high-heels. I love them!
Since I’m petite I do need to find specific shoes in which the
heel is comparable to my calf-ratio otherwise I sound like a teenager clomping
down the street wearing high heels made for six-foot-Amazonian-women with long
calf-ratio.
It’s ridiculous for me to wear something not made for my body
size! I wish stilettos were made for petite women. There’s nothing sexier than
a woman in high heels who can stomp the pavement or quietly walk through any
room as though she’s gliding.
It’s all about mathematics.
Otherwise, it’s grey-colored or light-weight material and beautifully
stitched tennis shoes for women who are active yet extremely feminine but with
enough touch of Tomboy in them.
In warm weather I may skateboard to a ‘photo shoot’ at a moment’s
notice. Yep.
Or in the winters, I like to wear black ‘moon boots’ without wedge
heels because wedge heels tend to twist and break women’s ankles (more so than
most other styles or cut of sole in shoes) plus men know wedge shoes are the
ugliest looking sole on any woman when she walks or so men say so as of fall
2014! (Future notes.)
***********
Part III.5
(Soliloquy III.5)
(Prose II.5)
I’ve stood in rooms full of enemies.
If I’m provoked then I’m ready to verbally spar (to any metaphorical
death) at any given moment.
Even if an entire room decided
to take me on with a verbal debate then I’ll win, otherwise, bottoms up! Opa!
Rejoice in partying and dining amongst enemies, yet and
nevertheless, please, don’t ever force one’s hand upon another.
There’s nothing more sacred or healthier and stronger than
drinking with enemies who ‘love-to-hate’ and probably would love to make love
rather than war.
If I get cornered then the
‘deadlier’ I become (figuratively speaking.)
Yes, I’ll debate anyone, anywhere, at anytime and possibly cut
open their throats causing them to choke on their own words (metaphorically
speaking.)
It’ll take a few years to recover.
The tendency is to leave enemies wondering what was meant by
polite East Coast-style kind words and foolish nonsense.
It sure is terrible to get tested, isn’t it?
When one isn’t up to par then don’t spar.
The tendency used to be
to test acquaintances for malice or psychopathic propensity through or with
foolish inclinations such as straight forward teasing or linguistic accents
acquired by hanging out with elected Prime Ministers’ adult descendants.
Yes, I kill with kindness
and a disciplinarian outlook.
Nothing succeeds like success.
Yes, I was conditioned for
excellence and victory.
When negative energy in a room is to make me into a “scapegoat” (an escape goat) for the suffering-blundering-stupidity of my enemies and if
I were ever to be struck (metaphorically or literally) then one already
knows very well what. Blood will be shed.
Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow but someday I’ll take the
whole bloody lot out-of-the-game by telling the complete and unfiltered and
unedited truth.
Yes, I’m more “dangerous” an animal when I tell the truth than
when I guard the secrets of others or cover-up for their drunken or embezzling
inadequacies.
When I tell the truth then one better clear the room because I’ll
be the one set free into the wilderness while others will have to pay for their
sins at the lamb’s sacrificial alter.
************
Part IV
(Soliloquy IV)
(Prose III)
I really do like to look at
others, however. I don’t so much like to be stared at. (I guess it’s an INFJ
personality trait.)
No, it’s nothing morbid.
Do you know how one tends to know or sense someone else’s eyes
digging into one’s face? I abhor it. It makes me…
Yes, I like to be left alone to observe and really look at the
beauty of others yet it doesn’t seem to be fair, either, because, culturally,
as-any-good Scandinavian will tell anyone “it’s rude to stare” while peasant Mexicans have taught me to stare
like any wild monkey.
Yes, I’ve been told by social elite men, “You’re not the prettiest
woman in the room however you most certainly are beautiful.”
What else is there to do, when men quietly pay authentically-made-compliments
only for one’s ear to hear yet it has nothing to do with sexual arousal rather
with intellectual sensuality?
I think beautifully
therefore my conversations are sought after.
I feel beautiful therefore I am.
When I speak from the heart about social justice or politics or
any other subject matter then wholeheartedly I-mean-what-I-say: I can feel the
words transforming any space into something which cultivates thought provoking
kind gestures or in-depth outlook or festive serenity unless we’re playing
‘devil’s advocate’ then yet, again, give me a heads-up or I’ll want to turn my
opponents into complete…
No differently than the 3rd Earl of Southampton did
write in his plays while Mr. Quasi ‘Shakespeare’ pretended to have written such
marvels of genius without so much as a seventh grade education.
(Right? Right.)
(Please, don’t make me laugh ever so hard.)
*************
I loathe conflict when I’m not respected in tested
miscommunication.
What: is everything supposed to come easily to the arrogant?
When miscommunication’s arch
is bent to look like
freakish misunderstandings
the ultimate test is
to see if the other can problem solve
through intelligent and
smart solutions.
(It makes me laugh each time
especially when I tease another.)
Once, miscommunication to
understanding is severed:
Test Over:
We know where the other
stands, stunted;
No matter how competent or
successful the other might be.
While in direct conflict, if I’m ignored
then I’m no longer attainable
for further communication.
I refuse to look back.
I won’t look twice towards
the dame direction.
I’m the riddle between
understanding and success.
Nope, stand back:
when one thinks it irritates
me
to get ignored in
miscommunication,
then think again.
I’ve been ignored,
marginalized and discriminated
I know how the game is
played between the classes.
It takes two to Tango
It takes two to play chess
and to spar.
If one plays chess by
themselves,
then good luck with that…
Playing with one self is like masturbation:
a one way conversation.
Sure might seem fun but not
connected.
If no one else is in-on the game…
Checkmate.
I’m the test:
No, not the Sphinx.
The Sphinx’s riddles.
The Pyramids’ history.
The Jaguar’s Spirit.
I’m Time Travel’s quest
and...
No, I’m neither the traveler
nor the shape-shifter.
Yes, I’m time itself
patiently manifested.
Others don’t actually think
social status comes easily, do they?
It’s more difficult to
obtain status than fame-or-fortune.
If one’s social with others
then it doesn’t necessarily
mean they’re peers.
Yes, I’ll fight, yet it
leaves me physically ill in the long run
I’d rather we uphold to the standardized rules in debate like
verbal chess than to personally get slashed at for no apparent logical reason
why any opponents aren’t sophisticated enough conversationalists. (Yawn.) (I’m only teasing about the yawn.)
If we were to begin to
verbally slash away at each others’ personalities then I want a King’s sword
comfortably held in-my-dancing hands traveling back-and-forth like a
basketball.
If my opponent were to miss
his shot then it means metal-on-skin with blood at the tip.
Is self defense what‘s
considered ‘Nice’?
(I don’t think so.)
It’s what’s considered
humankind?
More often than not,
most don’t have the bravery
to stick a dagger
anywhere other than
in-the-back.
I’ll come from the front and
won’t blink twice.
You’ll see me coming.
At ease:
I’m not provoking anything.
It’s not in my nature to do
so.
I come in peace, yet,
I may leave with spilled
blood upon the tip of my sharp tongue.
I don’t want to have to
spell it out because it makes me blush.
(Poetically written: not
literally.)
**************
Part V
(Soliloquy V)
(Prose IV)
I dislike attending parties
outside of my real elite social
status (not the ‘hanging out’ type of parties, however, the real sociable
parties) because then it’s all about people self-promoting their egos instead
of discussing ideas or solutions for a better future.
(I’ve attended “hang out” parties amongst the Minnesota “blue
collar” and “working poor” and “lower class.”
At certain parties I’ve neither met nor spoke to a single person
(which is fine) so it’s more like attending a party full of people in which
they stand around and have a cheap drink and stare-out at the great outdoors
which is fun.
Yes, I’ve been to Minnesota parties where complete strangers have
mocked me for no apparent reason other than I was better spoken than most or
dark skinned or genuinely was wholeheartedly and kindly teased yet the
atmosphere could be cut with a knife.
Once a hostess slept with my former she-male-old-woman former
friend I’d brought to her birthday party as my guest to celebrate her birthday
one spring ago (2012).
She slept with him the same birthday weekend without knowing he
also sleeps around with men. Mostly the
Arts High School in Golden Valley does produce adult trash with nothing worth
bartering.
(Yep. Read it and weep. It’s here on print for all of time.)
***************
People sure will promote
themselves.
What I want to know is if people truly have any complex ideas
and thoughts roaming around inside thick skulls.
How about contribute!
Contribute! Contribute!
It’s difficult to sit back
and relax and have a quiet or sociable time while visiting among strangers when
others are constantly self-promoting or sprinkling spit into one’s drink or
selling something as the vendors they truly are since frankly they desperately
seem to need money to keep up their lifestyles even though they pretend like
they don’t need money but they tend to give themselves away each and every time
they scan any room for their next social victim to devour upon.
There’s nothing more
annoying and disrespectful and déclassé and ugly and out of line and an outcast
than somebody who doesn’t know how to conduct themselves according to their
social class and pretends to be something they’re not since they don’t even
know their own social class etiquette so they get confused trying to mimic
another’s identity and overstepping serious boundaries which can bring about
grave disastrous outcomes for people outside powerful social circles with money
and ethical and moral responsibilities to people which must be kept from
manipulations or harm or death to any individual or any peaceful and graceful
and integrity filled community.
Manners matter if you
want to get ahead in the world.
People don’t forget how rude others are even in the subtlest of
ways while trying to pull the wool over
another’s eyes. Please.
People weren’t born yesterday.
People know if others are drunkards or seducers boasting about
nothing. It’s the greatest test in the world. One can tell a lot about people’s
character depending on how they react to idiots or not.
****************
Part V.5
(Soliloquy V.5)
(Prose IV.5)
I’m a true snob by-and-by:
I’m true to form.
I catch subtleties.
I make blunders on purpose
to watch others react.
Yes, I simply won’t let on I know all of the rules to etiquette from the very bottom to the very top
through the Ages.
Yes, I’ve lived through them all and such a privilege is what
makes me high class elite due to the fact I do know exactly what I’m talking
about from the gutter to the marble halls and sunsets.
Yes, I know what it’s like to wear only one set of clothes over
the course of many years while an indentured servant in an orphanage. I also
know what it’s like to be dressed by the hands of the help.
I’ve lived through most of
it.
There’s no reason ‘to put on
airs’.
I’ve been faced down in the
snow.
My ego’s been humbled by
life’s circumstances.
I was plucked from the
jungles to this and back again.
Yes, I know how the game is played better than most yet the best way to win is not to play the game
at all thus I’m free to write and speak as I do hence I chose to follow a
path of the Ancients to become a Master of the Arts rather than any politician
or any vendor or any preacher man’s egotistical sermons from the drunkard to
the cruel bully pulpit.
I’m proud of my equal.
He’s truly an expert in his field.
Thirty years later, he’s completed twenty-thousand hours at honing
away his craft and skill set.
Anyone can become elite through the rigorous tests of…over many
decades.
The reason why it’s difficult to run with the Elite is because one
must prove themselves to be true.
---------- ----------
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---------- ----------
-----------
---------- ----------
-----------
Source from Tarr Family Notes- Charles Tarr-Usgenweb-Gloucester
Richard Tarr born around 1646 in the Western part of
England, South of the Bristol Channel; died on 13 June 1732 at Rockport,
Massachusetts. He died at the age of 86. He is buried in the Old Burying
Grounds on Beach Street, Rockport, Essex, Massachusetts. The town of Rockport
erected a granite monument at his grave in the Old Cemetery to perpetuate his
memory. The marble tablet is hard to read, but it still stands on the old
burying grounds overlooking the bay. Richard Tarr settled first in Saco, Me. By
occupation: (Woodsman). Resided at Blue Point (Scarborough), Maine prior to
Philip's War; Saco, Maine early 1680s to 1688-9; Marblehead, Massachusetts
around 1680? also in 1688-9??; He later moved to Rockport, Essex, Massachusetts
where he lived 1689 to 1732. He married around 1684 at Saco, Maine to Elizabeth
Dicer, daughter of William Dicer and Elizabeth Austin.
Elizabeth2 Tarr, born 10 January 1691, died before her
father in 1732, her children were in his will; married 9 Feb. 1714/15, Ebenezer
Davis. They had children:
Honor2 Tarr, born 10 May 1693; married (1st) 2 Nov.
1712, John Wise; m. (2nd)
1720, John Wonson, They had a child:
1. Samuel3 Wonson I;
m. (3rd),
Isaac Prince, They had a child:
2. John3 Prince of New
Gloucester, Maine.
Note: Honor2 is also listed as Onnor and Oner.
Elizabeth Austin; Town on Sandy Bay; a History of Rockport,
Massachusetts by Marshall W.S. Swan, published in 1980 by Phoenix Publishing, Canaan,
Connecticut. The following is taken from page 21. "Rockport's first family
faced hardships as well. Down on the Tarrs swooped the scourge of witchcraft,
for Cape Ann did not escape 'the prodigious war made by the spirits of the
invisible world.' Before the battles were over, eleven women were dragged to
the bar of justice for assorted 'diabolical acts.' In July 1692 the
twenty-four-year-old Ebenezer Babson, his aging mother, and bachelor household
were beset 'almost every night' by skulkers, as the jittery John Emerson wrote
to the Mathers in Boston. The 'devil and his agents' required some sixty
militiamen from Ipswich before they mysteriously evaporated - an episode which
later inspired Whittier's jingly narrative, 'The Garrison of Cape Ann.' Subsequently,
Babson denounced two of his female neighbors. Others charged included Richard
Tarr's mother-in-law, Elizabeth Austin Dicer, committed to prison in Ipswich.
On December 15 he personally signed a bond for yet another local victim. It is
the earliest surviving document fixing Richard Tarr as a resident of Gloucester
and speaks well for his courage during a time of public hysteria. If mother
Dicer did return to live with her daughter's family after her release, such
tales she must have had to tell."
----- ----- -----
Memorandum:
That on this
fifteenth Day of December anno D[mbar ]: one Thousand Six hundred Ninty and two
in the fourth year of the Reigne of our Sovereigne Lord & Lady William&
Mary by the Grace of God of England Scottland &c King & Queen Defend'rs
of the faith &c Personally Came and Appeared before me George Corwin High
Shirriffe of the County of Essex of the Province of the Massathutetts Bay in
New England Thomas Prince of Gloster in the County of Essex in New England
Husbandman Richard Tarr of said Towne and County Husbandman and Acknowledged
them selves indebted to our said Sovereigne Lord& Lady the King &
Queen, and the Surviver of them their Heires and Successers in the summe of two
hundred pounds to be Leavied on their Goods& Chattles Lands &
Tennements for the Use of our said Sovereigne Lord& Lady: King&
Queen& the Surviver of them if Default be made in the Performance of the
Condition Under written
Videllisett
The
Condition of this Above Recognizance is such that Whereas Margarett Prince
Widdow Of Gloster aboves'd: is suspected & Accused of Committing Acts of
Witchcrafts. if therefore Margerett Prince Widdow afores'd shall & do make
her Personall Appearance before the Justices of our s'd Sovereigne Lord &
Lady the King and Queen at the Next Court of Assize Oyer & Terminer next:
Generall Geoall Delivery to be held for or within the County of Essex afores'd
to answer w't shall be Objected ag't her on their Maj'ties behalfe: &
Referring to the Witchcrafts. & to do & Receive that by w'ch said Court
shall be then & there Injoyned & not depart without Lycence Then the
above Recognizance to be void or Else to abide & Remaine in full force and
Virtue In Wittness whereof the above Named Persons have here unto sett their
hand & seales this fifteenth Day of December in the year of our Lord one
thousand six hundred Ninty & two and in the fourth year of our Maj'ties
Reigne
Wittness
* Benja
Gerrish
*Nathaniel
Beadle Sr.
*Jno Gyles
Thomas
Prince his marke L.S.
*Richard Tarr L.S.
( Mass. Archives. Vol. 135 No. 71 )
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Part VI
(Soliloquy VI)
(Prose V)
There’s nothing worse than getting
invited to supposedly Minnesota “upper class” summer parties while one’s
drunken hostess ends up screaming and crying out of desperation on top of a
washing machine because she can’t get her boyfriend to have sex with her at the
party.
Two years after the party, she had the gall ‘to tell me off’ in a
torn written scratch-piece of paper (coward) I was a ‘narcissist’ ever since I wouldn’t see her through any more of her
hateful and drunken-anorexic-stupors while her ex got fat-rich installing
charter schools all over the districts.
She so much as had the gall to yell and preach her drunken
speeches because she was wrong about sleeping with my Chicago visiting
quasi-friend guest on the same weekend she met him (another horny bitch.) I
sent him away and told him not to come back unless he wanted a… As if. Déclassé. (Gross.) Many of them.
::: (To this day, I loathe charter schools
because I know what it’s all about. It’s been explained to me by drunken adult
fraternity boys, charter schools are the easiest ‘buck to make.’ Its money
stolen from the public school system and the public lets it happen since the
public doesn’t know any better.) :::
******************
There’s nothing more lowbrow
than getting invited to a supposed Minnesota “middle class” dinner and within
the hour; directly asked by one quasi host of four hosts to state my
connections-to-money or to command me to become one of their “spiritual”
clients without ever asking me if I
even so much as cared to consider to become a client.
***** *****
*****
As of three summers ago my
former-perfectionist-holistic-poser-female ex-friend had informed her
holistic-charlatan-male-partner about our quite private and personal health
matters in our marriage and her disclosure of our personal health matters drove
a spear right through my heart to find out a complete stranger, unknown to us;
knew all about our health issues in detail. (Creepy motherfuckers.)
At that time, my former girlfriend and
her partner had been together for almost five years. I’d not once met her male
partner much less shared personal and confidential health information with him
yet he knew ‘everything’ about our health issues.
In such fleeting moments I despised her... She’d been, too, much
of a coward to introduce her partner to us up to the point of intrinsically
knowing perfectly well we’d most likely disapprove of any man who used her for
money and she let it happen. (Touché.)
In such fleeting moments I despised her... She’d been, too, much of
a coward and knew perfectly well we’d see right through him.
Yes, I did disapprove of any man who used her for money yet she
let him do it under the guise of his deadly illness.
When he soon dies she’ll be ‘left holding the bag’ and it serves
her right for doing his dirty work of drawing-in ‘needy’ clients while he cons
them into a fake medical practice.
She wasn’t a friend.
Maybe, she’d ‘never’ been a
friend.
She was a user and an emotional exhibitionist and a moron.
She isn’t someone, who, one cares to associate with or to follow
her example no matter how much she may sugarcoat or harass others through
holistic-eating since a hack’s always a
hack till the very end.
No one will truly trust others
when they ‘mimic’ such stupidity even if
it’s covered-up to look good or nice and preachy while maniacally twisting
one’s arm to believe as others do in their warped idealisms.
She’d been my “peer” however she’d not ever been my “equal.”
Yes, over dinner that
evening, I realized she wasn’t worthy of anyone’s trust when her charlatan male
partner suddenly blurted out our rather confidential and serious marriage
health information about us and our friendship was immediately over as of then.
It was the first and the last time we’ll ever meet or speak about
anything significant in nature.
You might as well know: She shared information
about Eric’s hypertension and almost going to the hospital with a
heart-attack-scare which turned out to be more like a strong case of severe
heartburn. I was so scared to lose Eric. She knew that and our information
wasn’t for her to share with others; absolutely no one else, especially, not a
stranger to us.
We hadn’t gone to her or her charlatan for medical advice.
Hence, the charlatan blurted out our medical information I sensed
I was in for a long evening of manipulation.
She’d come to visit us under the guise of friendship, yet she
wanted to use us to help her build her clientele holistic roster; (over her charlatan’s dead body.) A
doctor is confidential. These people are hacks and posers.
I’d felt like someone had
punched me in the gut.
I don’t know how I made it.
I could barely breathe, yet
I made my way through dinner.
Somehow I got the charlatan to let down his guard enough for me to
learn he was after money as well as a wealthy clientele roster and
fame-and-fortune.
Yes, I could’ve kicked him hard under the table sitting to the
left of me yet instead I played along and kept my food from coming up. I realized
dark forces surrounded their table…
It was evidently clear she saw our marriage more like a business
opportunity than as a guarded and private friendship.
She was ever so wrong.
She knew very well she was wrong yet wasn’t humble enough to admit
to it.
In general she’d overstepped some serious boundaries with us
especially while all the while her
charlatan smelled deadly of organ failure.
What?
One can’t smell the repugnant odor of death when one beds it?
Yes, I can smell death upon others’ breath.
Anybody else can also.
She didn’t want a partner: she chose pity over love,
thus and otherwise she would’ve chosen life over death.
Yes, I learned that day to not ever speak with anyone outside
of our marriage about our marriage health issues or anything else for the
matter. We’d trusted her with our private health information and she knew it
very well.
No, I’d not ever been so hurt by her in our decade plus time
together.
Other than the time she
ditched me and left to go dance with other women who she’d barely known and who
hadn’t ever cared for her. When we were younger no one invited her to parties so I made sure she knew about them
because I felt pity for her.
Although, she was my guest on that particular night she left me
standing on a sidewalk without ever extending so much as an invitation to go
dance even though I would’ve declined the invite and she knew perfectly well I
was embarrassed to have been ever so broke.
After traveling through Costa Rica and taking her home to meet
some of my Harvard Ivy League friends and to see our property and listened to
her go on-and-on for hours and days about her fears; always about her damn fears in life: she could barely be civil with
me on that night and went off like an
eager puppy which hadn’t ever had the opportunity to run with a mature pack.
How uncouth of her.
Yes, I learned about her true character on such a fine warm summer
evening.
She was nothing but a vendor.
It seems ‘queer’ (strange / odd) when people think of others as
idiots they tend to forget even idiots can see right through the pretenses of
others’ body language. People give themselves away much, too, easily.
Seven years ago I would’ve declined her invitation to go dance
because I was broke unlike today. Her body language said, you’re not invited after many years of making sure she’d get
invited to parties no one wanted her around for.
Yes, I’ve always known where the most exclusive parties are at.
It’s been a gift with me ever since I’ve been five because I’m the one who
neither cares nor attends.
I hope our paths don’t ever
cross again because I’d be politely cold towards her now which I know her true and vulgar nature in how she uses
others’ private information to set herself up in business.
She’s not a doctor.
She’s a charlatan.
Yes, I’ve proven myself to
be someone trustworthy especially when it’s information about my enemies while she
loved to talk about ‘everyone’ down to the finest detail of their private
lives.
Information’s sacred and at
times more so than time or energy.
Stand up and become men and
women of the world.
Responsibility to others is
worth gold.
There’s no need for
manipulation only respect.
At dinner that night: the entire time her charlatan excitedly spoke about money and
‘rich’ Hollywood and Beverly Hills people and their expensive kitchen counters;
the whole while she clenched her jaw.
Yes, I realized she might’ve loved him yet she neither liked him
nor much less cared for his déclassé demeanor. (Yep.)
Both she and I knew very well as a couple they we’re both
desperate for each other and they weren’t good enough for us and the reason for
why they sought my approval and I
quasi-gave it yet I ran for the hills. (I wasn’t going to stick around a
bunch of clowns.)
I couldn’t get out of there
fast enough as I tugged at a sweater while they clutched to each other hoping
they’d ‘pulled the wool over my eyes’ on such another fine summer evening. I
felt like getting ill all over their shoes. My skin crawled and they were
creepy.
The Indigenous are taught
one’s spirit lives inside one’s mouth and the main reason why we believe in
smoking the peace pipe especially with our enemies yet we don’t lose track of
our enemies’ strengths or weakness nor should they of ours.
All this greedy little couple cared about is money and not
friendship.
Money is their main focus of concern and connections were far more
important to them than confronting the fact I was completely and utterly
disgusted by their social misbehavior. Instead of treating me like a friend
they treated me like an object to be manipulated.
They didn’t care about other people.
They were like addicts invested in self-promotion and ego.
On such a day I put her down.
I shan’t pick her up again.
She’s too prickly.
Her life’s not worth an
intimate friendship because what our peers knew about her at sixteen which I didn’t realize until much later was
she was any fake and any poser and any hack and any loser at any age and still
is now and most likely will continue to be so until the grave.
Now I understand why our peers stayed far-far away from her even
though she was a perfectionist ‘know-it-all’ too ‘good to be true’ in the end.
An imposter. Really.
Mostly the Arts High School
in Golden Valley and Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash
with nothing worth bartering.
*******************
Thank you, no.
I thought I was going over
to dinner.
Instead I met a devil
dressed in ego.
I didn’t think I was going
to spend an evening with corrupt spiritual vendors disguised as holistic hacks
without any recommendations or appropriate licenses to practice medicine.
Yes, I ran like the dickens out of there without provoking the
‘know-it-all’ devil on dialysis. (Doctor
heal thyself.)
My hosts were so rude I went so far as to describe my bowel
movements while at the dinner table to see how far I could take it.
When I’m cornered: then I show how high class
elite I truly am: ‘all bets are off the table’: I go Egyptian Pharaoh on
people.
They wanted my connections without me ever so much as offering
such connection thus I gave them a thorough description of my bowel movements
at the time.
It takes bravery to do what I did on our dinner night and make it
look like I was innocent and had no idea why it was so wrong to speak of bowel
movements while at the dinner table.
I knew exactly what was
going on:
I tested my four hosts to see if
I could get a reaction out of the real Alpha sitting to my right and I did.
Soon after he left the table in disgust I realized he allowed for
the other three knuckleheaded wild beasts to run his home.
I would’ve left sooner yet my challenge commenced against their
lowbrow guest from Beverly Hills High School taking over their home because the
two omega females allowed for it and were, too, stupid to throw their guest out
on his hunches since all he was good for was to eat them out of house and home
while he pretended to cure one of the women of her cancer. Creepy. Very Creepy.
The one-visiting-omega-male
quasi host-guest from California who’d taken over their house kept conversing
right along with me about my bowel movements over our dinner ‘without skipping
a beat’ as if nothing were wrong.
I was ever so grossed out by
a devil I almost lost my food.
I could barely swallow.
I kept my front to test his
honor which he had none.
I didn’t trust the omega male guest from the moment I smelled him
because he, too, reeked of dialysis-death-breath even though he disguised it
quite well. One can’t really disguise
the smell of dialysis death upon one’s breath. Can one? Nope.
Oh, it was a frightful sight to see the deceit and corrupt nature
of such any household. A plague o’ both
your houses!
When I get disgusted to the
breaking point of having another pretend to be ‘high class’ without
"anything to show for" then I may squat right there-and-then and
fling figurative poop like any other primate does.
Three summers ago, I was so disturbed by my hosts I can barely
talk about their con-game in Colorado Springs.
Mostly the Arts High School
in Golden Valley and Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash
with nothing worth bartering.
I know people who graduated from Beverly Hills High School and who
can give me the inside scoop on the losers of their graduated classes 1993,
1994, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998…
They’ve informed me as to why con-artist-vendors ended up in the
Midwest while they failed to make a go-at-it in Hollywood as con-artists
because one of the romantic partners went from being a Hollywood producer to
standing at the breadlines of Minnesota while living off of mommy and daddy
well into their thirties trying to scam the Minnesotans into spirituality.
********************
One’s history will follow
one around.
The difference between you and I: I’ll write about my history
(because I’m not out to swindle anyone or to rub elbows to get unto the next
set of rungs while I step all over others’ faces.) Nope.
I won’t bat an eyelash twice while getting my history
down on ink because how classy elite I am. Quite.
When I write anything down then clear the room because dragons do
spit fire. It’s any dragon’s nature to burn liars while dragons write truths.
To the Chinese dragons are the most revered of all.
I can see why.
‘The writing’s on the wall.’
*********************
There’s nothing more lowbrow
than having one’s former Minnesota male-friends act like old gossiping women
and ask me indirectly (spring 2012) to masturbate right along with them to
homosexual porn while they masturbated each other.
Mostly Hamline University in
St. Paul and University of Minnesota and the Arts High School in Golden Valley
and Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash with nothing worth
bartering.
There’s nothing more lowbrow
than listening to one’s former Minnesota male-friends act like old gossiping
women while they made bets they could get a Minnesota-female-singer into bed by
getting close to her children yet first by collecting gossip on her through her
“maniacal” hairdresser who’s supposedly become her ‘best friend’ yet the hairdresser tells ‘everyone’ the singer’s
secrets behind her back.
We know all about the singer’s life down to the smallest detail.
Poor little girl: there’s nothing like
betrayal by people closest. The singer’s nothing except an object of morbid fascination
to them all while riding her coattails.
I sat in a room and listened to my former she-male friends create
a master plan as to how to sabotage the singer and make her a bride.
One of the men believed he could get her to marry him if only he could get close-enough to her
children then he’d manipulate them into loving him yet he masturbates with
other heterosexual males to homosexual porn.
Mostly Hamline University in
St. Paul and University of Minnesota and the Arts High School in Golden Valley
and Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash with nothing worth
bartering.
I’d rather hang out with
hardworking bouncers or dishwashers or waiters rather than with people who
scope-you-out and ask for your permission to make connections to one’s peers
only because they want business connections and can’t get them any other way.
Mostly Central High School
in Duluth does produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
There’s nothing more lowbrow
than knowing one’s Minneapolis fair weather friend; his brother’s girlfriend
gets sniffed like a dog yet doesn’t return one’s text because he only perceives
others as objects.
Two weeks later when he did return a text he lied by texting.
Welcome to modern technology.
None of them know there’s a train wreck waiting to happen. Moving
on. I don’t care enough to care anymore about people who are dumb or cowards or
social users or manipulators or social climbers. Why would I?
I wouldn’t, unless… then don’t fuck with our people or our peeps will
economically decimate entire cities, villages and towns,
Mostly the Arts High School
in Golden Valley and its acquaintances do produce adult trash with nothing
worth bartering.
There’s nothing more lowbrow
than a Minneapolis fair weather friend who only wants to talk when they run
into you at grocery stores or hardware stores but like hell if they’ll
be seen with you anywhere else because they think you’re not cool enough for their juvenile minds yet they’re the
ones who gave up on their dreams early on to become insurance collectors or
university desk clerks.
This particular individual person wanted connections to money and
power but didn’t even have the courtesy to return texts or phone calls. (No.
No. No.)
Mostly the Arts High School in
Golden Valley and its acquaintances do produce adult trash with nothing worth
bartering.
There’s nothing more lowbrow
than a Minneapolis fair weather friend who’ll only text to hang out while they
babysit. How convenient for them. I don’t ever visit with others when it’s
obvious I’m an afterthought. What do I look like a seventeen year old? I don’t
think so.
I haven’t been seventeen in eighteen years.
Yes, goodbye seventeen.
She executes this type of behavior because like an alcoholic she’s
in search of her next big social high.
Something better is always bound to come along and amuse her
especially if she can…thus she only calls when she’s bored and saves her
Saturday nights for people who are willing to…
Mostly the Arts High School
in Golden Valley does produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
These shallow type of Minnesotans desire connections-to-money and
status yet they don’t so much as return simple texts after they’ve gotten what they’ve wanted or received one’s permission to
cross over the class divide which isn’t for me to give a holy grace about yet know this: if I’m crossed just once then the wrath of the Gods is more
powerful than my own silence.
No, I’m not ‘keeping score’ per se yet Karma does and so do the
Gods.
***********************
I refuse to get used for
status or connections-to-money especially when others think they know ‘who’
certain people are because I’ve got a great deal of respect and agape love for
many people with and without connections to money.
All I have to say is the
word: About others’ misbehavior and how they’re no good and the worst
thing which will happen is users will get used.
The elite already know how to play the best hand and always come
out ahead and winning.
When one’s brought-in to do business with people of a higher
social status such interaction doesn’t grant anybody status at all.
When others pay for any goods or services then one will always be a subordinate and nothing
more.
No matter how close one thinks they might get to their master:
they’re still master and servant.
Unlike most: I’ve neither lowered myself nor begged to my peers
for money towards any of my artistic endeavors and business ventures since I’m
social elite by-and-by.
Yes, I’m an equal to global power and not any subordinate.
No, I’ve not once been a subordinate:
At this point I’m well on my way to freedom.
No, I’ve not gone and begged my peers for one single pence:
Much less did I beg my equals to lend me money.
No, I’ve not taken a penny from anybody not even when I was face
down in the snow clutching my stomach from hunger pangs because my enemies
wanted me broken thus at this point how about I throw pennies at your feet?
Sure, why not? I made it out alive.
We thrive.
Socially I’ve got most licked.
Many think they can use me yet what they don’t seem to understand
is this is a high stakes social game.
I hold “the” social trump
card.
Although I don’t use it
because I’m, too, busy living life.
Friends in high places are ‘nice’
but friends at the highest
of places are even kinder.
My friends are your bosses’
bosses’ bosses’ bosses’…
Yes, my friends are preppy
and modern fashionable.
They didn’t get stuck in the
year 1992.
They’ve kept up with the
fashions.
Do you know what any
contemporary adult preppy looks like?
Haute Couture.
High class elite with a
genuine smile.
Others have no idea whom we
know and they won’t ever tell.
Even when we see each other
in public we pretend like we don’t know each other especially people whom we
love and hate most.
Once one has been handed money from any peer to be applied towards
one’s endeavor then one shall forever become the other’s subordinate to do as they wish for the other to do
hence social debt works in such a fragile manner unlike monetary debt.
Social debt is ten times more dangerous than monetary debt.
No, one won’t have the chance to become any type of peer ever
again much less an equal once one befalls into monetary debt to one’s peers.
If I’ve ever given others
money towards their cause then they’re now my subordinates and they’ll live and
die as such.
My peers and equals aren’t
here to bankroll frivolous pseudo-artistic playgrounds which won’t go anywhere because
such projects don’t have legs to stand on.
If my peers do bankroll anything then ultimately it’ll cost more
than money because there’re always
strings attached so one might as well go out into the world and make it the
hardworking way as I did unless it’s a monetary gift with no strings attached.
Go make one’s fortune the old fashion way of goods and services in
exchange for currency from private funds (bank loans) or public profits.
We weren’t born yesterday.
Mostly the Arts High School
in Golden Valley and Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash
with nothing worth bartering.
There’s no greater turn off
other than to have users believe they can socially climb others by way of making connections to others’
peers because users don’t seem to be able to make genuine connections on their
own since “everybody” else already knows perfectly well what they are.
It won’t help users to social-climb because they’ll get mocked through whispers, they always do.
Actually, it sets them back…
Why should people bankroll social users?
Social users aren’t of the same caliber or stature.
A user will neither become an equal nor a peer for as long as they
live and the greatest ‘consolation prize’ even if in their delusional minds they think they’re peers is users get
used by everyone they use.
Not even an Ivy League education can change one’s distinct class
deferential.
If one’s middle class with an Ivy League education then that’s exactly what they are: middle
class with an Ivy League education.
One will not be considered elite by the elite who attend schools
with any “common man” since they’re middle class and it must seem like another
dagger shoved right through the heart anyway one looks at it. To climb yet
another pinnacle just off reach for no other purpose than further debt and
servitude to the rich.
(Somebody had to burst the
Ivy League bubble.)
Word quickly spreads when braggers brag.
Mostly the Arts High School in
Golden Valley and Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash with
nothing worth bartering.
Keep an eye pealed to the
skies:
watch this: as I mock one’s
distorted ego
I’ve taken the lead
I’ve pulled away from the
pack
You can catch up, however…
The tortoise wins without
cheating
***********************
Part VII
(Soliloquy VII)
(Prose VI)
A Rumi prayer to the Ages
I can feel the mastery of
Rumi washing over me like a stronghold tidal wave rolling me around in a cradle
of surf and water.
As difficult as I might be to get to know I’m a complex human even
though I don’t come across as though.
A dichotomy of extremely relaxed and extremely strict
characteristics.
For once I’d like to meet male friends who are sophisticated yet
they’re real men’s men.
For another I’d like to meet men who know who they are since I’m a
woman and I know who I am.
Wouldn’t it be nice to hold platonic friendships without men trying to get into one’s
head or underwear?
I loathe fake charmers.
I respect loyalty.
I’m loyal to the end
unless I’m betrayed
then let’s say our goodbyes.
Silent goodbyes and no
melodramas.
I’ll carry my friends across battlefields on my back
If one knows anything about Rottweilers then it’s they’re trained
to be highly controlled and deadly smart.
Rottweilers are as they are because they were bred to herd
elephants across the Alps. They’re the nicest dogs one will ever encounter yet
they sure are intimidating and one ought to be intimidated when the breed
doesn’t know one personally.
I’m an extremely lucky and
fortunate person.
When I ask for something:
Then life provides in
abundance.
Although: I must be
extremely precise.
‘I’m standing my ‘philosophical’ ground hence not just anybody
will do anymore.
Not even so much as a glimpse, do I want to so much as to look
upon some of the same scoundrels I met since 1994. I can’t stand their begging
or lies and manipulation.
Don’t worry: I’ll clear the room.
Thank you very much.
You won’t see or hear from me ever again.
For now I’m traveling like a solo panther does yet it doesn’t mean
I’m alone in the world.
No, I’m not afraid of the panthers which come to me in my dreams hence
they’re my equals.
The dream panthers and I have absolutely no fear of each other.
Nevertheless, we sure do hold mutual respect for the other because
between a panther and a potential human maiming sudden inspiration can take
shape or form.
The dream panthers and I are equals yet we’re not the same.
We don’t lie to each other about our differences and in our
communication there’s true and real respect between us.
*****************************
Part VIII
(Soliloquy VIII)
(Exodus)
One can tell a lot about
people and their social disgraces when one attends parties outside of one’s
social status.
Yes, I’m quite modern even though I ought to have been born in the
1800’s as an elite Caucasian woman. (No, I’m not Scarlet O’Hara. Not even
close.)
It’s the intellectual capacity not to lie to people which draws
them close unless I feel people are mindlessly competing or emotionally
terrorizing or destroying or lying or disrupting the natural order of events
then I can be ruthless without batting an eyelash and they’ll confuse it for
kind aptitude.
Since summer 2009 my
favorite test for the past four years used to be to play-the-fool or pretend to be the village idiot and
watch people react.
When people react with cruelty then they must prepare to verbally
spar since it means I bite my thumb at
thou since one's about to be turned into ‘donkey’s arse’ without ever
realizing it…
And by the time I’m gone: I’m ‘gone with the wind’.
One’s success doesn’t mean they’re part of an elite pack of
wolves.
Yes, I’m “overly educated” and Costa Rican humble.
Yes, I’m a complex dual enigma.
The reason why I have to be quite careful about attracting the
right sorts of people into my life at thirty-five is because I attract people
like bees with honey.
Now I’ve become older and wiser and confident about my future I
know how this is going down.
******************************
No, I’m not for sale.
No, I’m not a product.
No, I’m not an object.
No, I’m not a commodity.
No, I’m not to be exploited.
No, I’m not to be
blackmailed.
No, I’m not to be harassed
or assaulted or molested.
No, I’m not my ego as others
pretend to be theirs.
If I’m out on any public dance floor then others may not
rub their genitals up against
me.
No, I’m not an inflatable
doll.
The 1990’s came-and-went!
Get over it!
Remember, I’m the ‘ugly
duckling’ turned swan
Swans mate for life
There’s nothing more perfect
than
the imperfect which blossoms
next to…
People tell me I’m a good
person at heart.
I like being a good person
at heart.
I like to laugh yet I do
uphold to strict social boundaries.
I don’t like to take
advantage of people.
I don’t like to be taken
advantage of.
Even in the middle of chaos,
I like to keep my propriety
about myself
unless I’m deathly ill and
suffering to the brink of extinction.
I like to make distinctions
between multiple variables.
I love knowing from the
ashes of ugliness, beauty will rise.
Finally, I get to lay my
head and relax since I hold the trump card.
Poetry wants to jump out of
my lap like a little Bichon Frisé.
What does any of this have
to do with self portraits?
Everything.
Yes, I’m who I say I am.
Yes, I’m my name.
Yes, I’m my actions.
Yes, I’m my soul-breath of
life.
While others pretend to be
otherwise…
Peace.
Paz.
“Beauty will be restored.” (According to Ojibwa teachings.)
Pura
Vida
“To
the Good Life” (According to the Costa Rican greeting.)
Gabriel
Gabriela de la Holm
Self Portrait Artist Statement II
Monday,
March 26, 2012
Introduction:
Welcome to “Self Portrait of an Artist”
a fifty-year-long work-in-progress photography series.
I
started this photography series in 2006, ultimately, to create a flipbook of my
aging process towards the year 2056 -- and to become a better photographer in
general. I made myself the main ‘subject matter’ due to the length of this
project.
Part I:
Normally,
I take about a week from concept to completion to work on the self-portraits
bi-annually. I don’t mind spending a week to construct, film, post and layout
the montages.
No,
I’m not a professional model, actress or critic nor do I care to become any one
of them. I’m a professional working writer with purpose and ideas and
discipline and laughter and lots of amusement especially when it comes to
making mistakes.
No,
I’m not cross-eyed. It’s taken me six years to figure out some simple
geometrical angles while facing into the mirror. Ah, mathematics! I love
billiards, therefore, I ought to get better at self-portraits and ‘eye ball’
angles over time.
I’ve
not been able to figure out as to where to look (slight human awkwardness), and
thus; I’ve been looking into the camera’s viewfinder rather than into the
mirror. Every time that I’ve looked into the viewfinder then my ‘one eyeball’
(the furthest one away) makes me look cross-eyed and well… moving on.
My
craft happens to be all about mathematics.
I
can’t do anything without mathematics. It’s come down to having a deep
meditative patience in-my-interaction with mathematics, leaving enough room for
human error, license for widespread analytical creativity and a tremendous
confidence in the development of my work. As well as becoming highly
technically in-tune with the-fine-tuning of my instrument -- the barrel of a
lens.
Part II:
I
decided to be human and to age before the camera without makeup, airbrushing or
‘Photoshop’. I work with light and angles to best represent the very imperfect
and blemished face that I’ve become and that I’ll continue to age into.
I feel beautiful.
No,
I didn’t write that I’m any real great beauty. I wrote that I feel beautiful, thus, when I take self
portraits I embody that intrinsic beauty, which, I feel deep down to the
cellular structure. Beauty to me is more of a sentiment, a prayer, a reflection
of the inner spirit and not simply and only a physicality.
I’m
grateful and quite happy to be as healthy and as strong as I am at the lovely
age of thirty five. I’m built like an ox (all muscle and a little fat.) If
you’ve ever studied anatomy then you’ve come to realize the knowledge about the
intimate beauty in musculature structure and tissue.
In
my humble opinion, there’s nothing more beautiful than strength, more
sophisticated than movement and more elegant than health. To me, such elements
combined equal true value and significance in the equation of physical beauty
no matter who you are.
I feel beautiful because the greatest phenomenon that’s
been occurring to me over the past twenty years is that children naturally
gravitate towards me. When I worked through the Children’s Hospital I was
taught never to initiate touch with
children so I keep my hands to myself at all times, nevertheless, children tend
to want to stand very close to me, they want my attention and some will reach
out and pet my hair. The feeling of being liked by kids has taught me much
about tremendous beauty in life. I find that if children find others
fascinating then most likely they are.
After
twenty years of reading about the different types of global cultural
adornments, beautification and attractiveness; I’ve come to realize that the
Utmost beautiful people are strong and healthy; not ‘perfect’ or ‘airbrushed’.
I
love imperfections on people like scars, one-eye-slightly-larger-than-the-other
(which everyone has) and blemishes. I think that slight and subtle
imperfections create beauty in the stories of people’s lives. I think everyone is imperfect especially the
most perfectly put together people who have the most symmetrical faces. If you
stare at perfect-looking people long enough then they begin to look
asymmetrical, because everyone is,
frankly.
No,
I don’t wear makeup, airbrush or ‘Photoshop’ my face while photographing this
series (I don’t consider lipstick makeup.) It’s probably obvious to many and gross to some (the shallow) that, I
do expose my imperfections and scars. I did make a tough decision and went with it to be true and honest to
this aging progress in this photography series.
I
don’t wish to be anybody else thus I have accepted that I am as I am.
I’ve
had many food allergies for about twenty years and have had to contend with
acne (sigh.) I don’t like the bumps and the scarring one bit; however, it’s
what the Gods have given me. I’m quite patient and have become tender and
respectful of skin. What an amazing organism.
I’ve
not been able to become fully vain, due to bad skin no matter how much organic,
vegan ‘rabbit food’ and gluten-free cookies and breads I make. I’m an Indiana
and I don’t believe in reincarnation in this life, nevertheless, if I got a second another human-form
life (which I won’t) in my next life
I’d be me, exactly, as I am now and with incredible radiant skin.
My
goal as a woman is to keep my weight at 150 pounds and at a size 10 for the rest
of my life. I find that I’m petite and that makes me happy. Remember, muscle
weighs more than fat and thus I am. (I know, I know -- 150 pounds for a woman
of my height (5’2”) by today’s standards is considered obese, but it’s not to
me.) Anything less than 140 pounds and I feel starved, thus my goal is to stay
strong, magnificent, curvaceous and non-starved. When I feel starved, or
stuffed at 160 pounds, then I can’t concentrate very well.
I
want to be focused, full of life and vibrant, therefore, 150 pounds is just
gorgeous to me because not only am I strong I’m also cerebrally uncluttered,
emotionally secure and happy.
I
don’t wish to be skinny.
I
wish to be strong as I am now.
I
can skateboard ten miles in one afternoon. I can carry my own camping gear for
miles as well as portage a canoe on my own. I can surf, cross country ski,
snowboard, walk, dance, run, skip, jump, climb, push, pull and balance.
What
more can I possibly want out of life when movement is so stunning?
I
can lift my own body weight up to fifty times in about an hour and a half as I
found out last week while setting up to film the latest self portraits.
I’m
imperfectly beautiful. No, I’m not perfect. I’m happy. No, I’m not perfect. I’m
strong. No, I’m not perfect. I’m the woman I thought I’d become and that brings
a great deal of contentment and satisfaction to my life thus it creates
harmony, balance and sensuality so deep
it registers realness to the cellular and cerebral level. No, I’m not a flirt!
I’m sensually intelligent and relaxed. Tranquillo. Hands off. No toque una mujer que no sabe. ‘Don’t
touch a woman you don’t know.’ Peace and with much love to all of the imperfect
beauties of the world. You’re beautiful as you are.
Part III:
About
‘Photoshop’ in post graphic design: I find this fifty year series fascinating
because after working with digital graphic design since 1999 -- finally
Photoshop just came together for me.
Now
I look forward to flying across the keyboard like a pro. It’s taken me thirteen
years to get comfortable with Photoshop. It took until this week to connect the
dots together and I’ll not forget ‘layering’ anytime soon. Now, I won’t look
back and I won’t hesitate because I know where I’ve made mistakes and where I
can become a stronger post digital graphic designer with elements and short
cuts. (Lovely. Lovely. Lovely. I’m smiling.)
Next,
I’m going to learn to construct manageable photo-files with “pinch to stretch”
photographs for the tablets. I know ‘pinching’ and ‘scaling’, however. I’d like
to learn to control the blurriness of the image as it gets pinched and
stretched. I want to learn to construct and to keep the image’s sharpness in
high resolution no matter what size. Did
that make any sense? I’ll think about it. Maybe by August or September 2012
I’ll get it down.
Finally
and in conclusion this self portrait series is helping me understand how to
find other people’s best features (without makeup or airbrushing which is essential
for documentary filmmaking) and also it’s allowed for me to keep my
mathematical, graphics and aesthetic-visual-skills sharp.
Like
I’ve written before, I love my work because behind me I’ve got so much support,
nurturance and constructive criticism from so many amazing people who can truly
deconstruct, structure and discuss, communicate and converse about anything in
the world. Behind every dedicated, professional and disciplined artist there’s
a community behind them. I’m blessed
to be alive in this era of digital technology. Thank you.
Pura
Vida
“To
the Good Life” (According to the Costa Rican greeting.)
Gabriel
Gabriela
de la Holm
Self Portrait Artist Statement I
May
2011
“Self Portrait of an Artist” began in
2006 as an aging photography series that will take fifty years to complete.
I
begun to capture “Self Portrait of an Artist” as a photography series from an
idea of a friend whom in high school made a short film about her loved ones’
hands; ‘Brilliant,’ I thought; What if I started a series and took pictures of
my hands as an aging series in progress for fifty years?
A
decade ago, I decided not to sign on a model for a fifty-year-long series only
because the commitment would’ve been astounding and difficult at times while in
youth, so I chose myself as a subject matter for two good reasons; One, I would
be a constant subject and two, I would learn to be comfortable in front of a
camera.
“If
you look then you will find beauty in anything you see through the barrel of
any lens. Don’t be afraid to look for it, find it with any camera available to
you because it’s about your cinematic skills and not about expensive cameras.”
A
serious professor walked around a table of students eager to learn. “Here, you
will learn how to construct any composition to its infinite form and how to
find it every time.” I liked the hardened look on my professor’s face from
decades of hiking peaks and mountains as a serious nature photographer. She
meant business. She was the real deal.
I
smiled and looked at the student sitting across from me and found profound
beauty in her green cat-like eyes – she smiled back and introduced herself. We
shook hands and I understood the moral of the lesson – beauty’s everywhere when
you have the will and skill to find it.
I
do have a great deal of respect for Thespians - any actor or actress working in
the world for a living as performers; Above all else, I can find the booming
greatness and tenderness of love-and-hate in any opera, ballet or performance.
I
can consider performance a type of energy, rigorous discipline and immense
structure that it takes to be an opera singer and anyone involved in the art of
any live-or-captured performance as well as workers behind-the-scenes.
The
first time I’d ever seen any actress in front of any camera in a studio I was
nineteen years old and the actress delivered such a fine performance in a taped
PSA that it profoundly changed my ideal about what I thought of actors and
actresses. I was so moved and astounded that all I could do was to sit down and
not move for an entire of an hour because I was in a room with great developed
and skilled talent.
The
second time, that, I was close and personal to an actor it was at age twenty.
I
stood in a studio and froze - the entire room went quiet as a young actress
unbuttoned her blouse and showed her bare naked chest to a rolling camera and
in front of a small crew.
No
one made any sudden noises or movements and every artist was quiet and
professional through an entire “changing” scene.
I
stood behind a cameraman and took another step back once the actress began to
undress for the camera.
I
hadn’t been prepared for such a scene that day - I felt young and bewildered.
I‘d never seen anything that refined and sophisticated in the arts in my entire
life in a room full of professional and dedicated male crew members.
Talk
about getting thrown-off my artistic game? It happens.
That
morning as I’d gotten ready, sipped café and read a little local community newspaper,
not once did it cross my mind that I’d need to be prepared to see another
woman’s bare naked chest. Intense, yet profoundly necessary when learning about
subject matter and cinematography.
At
the age of twenty-three I watched a man calmly-and-silently mentally prepare
for his cinematic scenes on location and once again I was profoundly changed as
I sat back and watched him slowly and calmly breathe – he looked so serene and
tranquillo that I thought he’d fallen asleep except for his thunderously calm
and alert energy I understood that this man was getting into character in the
final moments before rolling; I understood that, that moment was sacred to him.
Another
young actor ran around in circles as he did method exercises in preparation for
his role, yet with all of his vocalizations, arm-twisting, stretching, jumping
and running he didn’t break the other actor’s Zen concentration.
In that moment
I’d been completely mesmerized and enraptured by the master and not by the
apprentice.
Now
I reach-back into this memory bank because I welled-up with a deepest breath
when I saw this Zen thespian master on the silver screen one decade later he
still encompassed that same relaxed, tranquillo attitude while we watched him
in a scene surrounded by a Brit cast of master thespians.
I
understood his heritage more so in that moment than when I had had the great
pleasure-and-privilege of observing this thespian master on set.
He’d
asked me to dance to a Celtic tune like any man and woman of the world do and I
thought that he smelled of real peppermint-leaves and a true man’s aftershave.
I liked him from the first moment I’d smelled him. He smelled of honesty,
humanity and deep appreciation for life.
We
immediately hit it off and respected one another because we understood that
there’s more to life than making films and without having to tell him who I was
he understood very well that he was speaking and interacting with a blue
blooded...
I’d
never been comfortable in front of the camera and I still am not comfortable
but I’m learning to be.
I’ll
try to dedicate time to this project every six months.
Self
portraits are dated from when I take the pictures of myself and not of the
backdrops or graphics, unless I run out of time or pictures but that’ll be
quite rare.
I
find it necessary to know what it feels like to have the barrel of a lens
pointed at me for when I go to interview folks on camera for documentaries.
Self
portraits are the quickest way to find beauty in others because if you’ve ever
taken professional self portraits then you come to realize that the practice in
the art of composition is not solely in knowing how to set up a shot but how to
compose a shot to find the most beautiful features in others and let go of
their faults.
Documentary
film work is neither the modeling industry nor a photography fifty-year-long
series on aging much less are these mediums meant to be alike yet similar in
discipline form.
I
don’t consider myself any great beauty by any means – I have many imperfections
as any human woman does, but I don’t dwell on imperfections and blemishes
either when taking photographs.
No,
I’m neither a fashion model nor do I pretend to be one nor do I care to become
one.
I
look forward to a fifty-year-long series about aging right in front of the
camera – I can’t think of a better way to give my soul over to the world
through the realm of photography and self portraits – as it may sound. For the first ten years of my life I didn’t grow
up with a camera in the jungles of Costa Rica so as an adult I neither take a
camera for granted or other people in front of it.
I
really got into this series when I realized that I wanted to make a flipbook
(history of film.)
I
want to make a flipbook about my aging process because I think that not only will
it take a lot of patience to make and it will also be very funny to me.
Imagine
a flipbook about your face aging as you flip through the pages – the quicker
one flips through the pages then the older one gets in a matter of seconds.
Broma. Chiste. Joke. Funny as hell to me!
“Good
luck with that.” said a jealous-and-bitter man about fifteen years ago.
I
run with luck.
He
seemed mad as hell that he was fast
approaching forty and he’d never left university to go and show the world what
his film work was made of.
As
I said my goodbyes to my closest classmates and stern professors he stood with
his arms folded across his chest, a sour look on his face and stared at me like
he wanted to pull out all of my hair which at that time I was already bald and
had dealt a health blow from melanoma.
I
hit the road for the real world, life adventure, artistic development and human
economic working independence towards becoming a master-artist.
Poor
bloke: As a man all he’d ever known was his middle-aged school-career and
that’s not even remotely the real world where one must prove one’s professional
worth, kind-humanity and smart-intelligence.
University’s
a facade and a made-up construct where one doesn’t necessarily have to prove
one’s real world intelligence and smarts. It takes some serious smarts combined
with a humane approach to show what one is made of.
I
hope you enjoy this series. It’s as real as it can be.
This
photograph series is not meant to be serious.
Yes,
I do laugh thinking about this funny little photo project.
If
only I did get to live to be two-hundred years-young then I’d create more.
Alas,
tortoises do get to live to be one-hundred and twenty years of age. Wow.
Pura
Vida
“To
the Good Life” (According to the Costa Rican greeting.)
Gabriel
Gabriela
de la Holm