postsecret.

savage love.

i bought a ticket to a talk by dan savage (of village voice fame) to speak about his life and times as a sex columnist. he has my dream job. well, no, actually tristan taormino (also of village voice fame) has my dream job if for no other reason than the fact that she's been able to parlay her love of sexual politics into appearances on the rikki lake show, a series of books, a hollywood sex consultatnt for spike lee, and a regularly featured column.

refugee chic.

last friday, i had the pleasure of seeing m.i.a peform at the paradise rock club. her show is energy filled and distinctly organic. she performed in knee length black tights with yellow daisy dukes (a la luke) and a black sweater with gold sequins. in a word, her outfit was stunning. it offered a deliberate style made to appear laidback.

with hair frazzled, and voice hackneyed, m.i.a commanded a crowd of roughly 500 with basic rhymes, sampled beats, and dancehall inspired undulations. i was front row, stage left. her appeal is captivating--her lyrics often get lost behind chopped speech and forceful basslines. but still, her fan base knows her lyrics and cheer her on as she dances in time to her music.

she's from a suburban on london (acton, hence the name m.i.a for missing in acton). yet still, she pays proper tribute to the reggae and island rhythms that dominate the london music scene.

her show was $18 well spent.

fire, fire.

check out other photos from the m.i.a concert here.

galang.

m.i.a at the paradise rock club, front row.

my fairy godmother.

my fairy godmother is a haitian driver named yves who swore up & down that i was from the caribbean. he claims that he's seen me in harvard square & believes i emit a "caribbean spirit."

he drove me to boston on thursday night. our paths crossed again on friday when i randomly choose to jump in his cab for yet another ride to boston. therefore, yves and i are connected.

a hell of a 21st.

there have been two 21st birthdays in the room. for annie's 21st, we celebrated at peking tom's in boston. thanks to an open bar, i had my fair share of martinis, long islands, shots, and mojitos (my personal favorite). i had an amazing time alongside friends and a dj who enjoyed a fellatio joke i whispered in his ear.

currently, i love the spirit of our room. now, i'll only have to wait for our menstrual cycles to synchronize.

fatty girl.

fat bottomed girls make this rocking world go 'round. (queen)

cafe gato rojo.

i'm the newest barista--insert joke--at cafe gato rojo, an on campus cafe. today is my first day of training where i will learn how to make espressos, macchiattos, lattes, etc. funny thing is: at this very moment, i don't even know how to brew coffee.

but in my arms she was always lolita.

"the only convincing love story of the 20th century." (vanity fair)

lolita by vladimir nabokov is one of my all time favorites reads. it is my favorite, in part, because of the memory i attach to it. in a day, i read it topless on a beach in barcelona. check out this village voice article written by a harvard english professor who not so incidentally teaches a seminar called vladmimir nabokov.

in passing, i considered switching from women, gender, and sexuality studies (wgs) to english. in my meeting i told my english advisor quite bluntly, "i will major in english if i can write the papers i want to write." i continued, "for example, i believe that humbert [lolita's narrator] is gay & secretly lusts for lolita because of her boyish qualities."

i paused.
he smiled.
then, silence.

i ended, "tell me the truth, can i write that paper?"

i'm still wgs.

tongue & cheek.

i'm a women, gender, & sexuality studies concentrator.

i put a spell on you.

thanks to an unintentionally belated birthday gift from allison, i am currently reading i put a spell on you: the autobiography of nina simone. in honor, i am listening to talib kweli's get by which gloriously samples nina simone's sinnerman.

into the groove.

i'm back in the 'bridge & i feel underwhelmed. i need time to settle, maybe 2 weeks or so. i loved summer, ya'll, so now i'm nothing short of sick with nostalgia. i am, however, looking forward to classes and frantic routines. my newest project involves transforming my room into a unqiue space. this calls for ralph lauren's "jamaica green paint," 5 X 7 black and white photographs, and a suede deep chocolate comforter.

my new haircut, ya'll.

here, i've tried to capture as much of the cut as possible. i choose the cut from a magazine. my stylist, isiah, choose the color. it's called cooper chestnut. i told him to pick something that matched my skintone. i didn't see the color until the finished product. i'm very happy with it. and i apologize for again wearing this dress.

london calling.

i'm headed to see m.i.a at the paradise rock club with vanessa on 9/23. i want to see what her fans look like.

chief justice rehnquist.

chief justice rehnquist has died of cancer. juding from his sickly stagger, i cannot say that i'm surprised. but, i'm fearful.

i'm beginning the trend of ending each post with a simple, emotive, & melancholy sentence. the us, right now, smacks of the 1970s, a time when we all collectively began to suspect american institutions of foul play. i'll post more on that concept tomorrow.

in mourning: the crescent city.

new orleans is the place of birth--i love the city. i am quietly in mourning. my godparents & extended family are there & safe, thankfully. i'm saddened--truly saddened--by the the devastation of hurricane katrina. i have little else to say right now sans that up until mid-august, i was headed down to new orleans. even more discouraging is that a disproportionate number of those stranded in the city are lacking in resources, poor & often black. my sympathy goes out to all involved parties. right now, i'm sad.

check out an insightful village voice article from a new orleans native.