Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Some Thoughts After Accidentally Getting Caught In The Middle Of The Zombie Walk.
* When someone in a zombie costume asked for my brain, I thought to myself "I spent all of last night hammering down weed candies. You don't want this brain, dude".
* Note to exactly 46% of zombie walk patrons: just because you're a zombie doesn't mean you're unable to shower. Your love for showers shouldn't die with your soul.
* A good amount of my time walking along side the crowd was spent with my eyes to the ground, trying to figure out of the blood stains on the ground outside of the sketchy convenience store are real or just that corn-syrupy fake stuff.
* The most entertaining part of the entire day? Watching straight-laced people try to figure out how to get around the masses without having a zombie roar at them.
~sarah p.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Deep, Dark Secrets: I Can't "Quit" Kanye.
Everything in hip hop's world changed the day The Blueprint was released. It was an album full of clever loops and samples. Sure, Jay Z dropped beautiful strings of lyrics, but the focus of the album was truly on production. Namely, a largely-unknown producer by the name of Kanye West. His knowledge of soul and gospel music spanned far beyond his 24 years, and his balls, figuratively, were the biggest in the business.
By the time he crafted his own rap career, people were thirsty for what was to come, and in late 2002, after a bad car accident, he released 'Through The Wire', recorded while his jaw was wired shut. For a while I assumed that this was the type of determination that would carry through to a fruitful and unique career. He was driven, and clever, and openly spiritual, and built himself from the ground up. 'College Dropout' dropped, and the hip hop community collectively jizzed on anything and everything Kanye.
My first run-in with Kanye 2.0 happened while I was sitting on a couch in North Carolina. Hurricane Katrina had just touched down two states away, and TV was painting a sad picture of dreams washed away in an instant. The friendly faces of Mike Meyers and Kanye West popped up on the screen in a televised charity benefit. Mike Meyers had used his Austin Powers voice a few times, and was running out of steam. This is when Kanye stepped in, and, instead of words of hope or encouragement, stared coldly into the screen and calmly told the president he was a racist. Though he was 100% right, it was odd timing, particularly on a benefit event that he willingly attended, and a clear indicator of things to come.
Fast forward fifteen years, where the guy has yearly storm-outs on music award shows when he doesn't gets his way, has married into the most nails-on-a-chalkboard family of all time, and tries to bring back the "fashion skirt" on a fairly regular basis. I'm pretty sure he's trolling us ("us" being the entire world) on those last two, but we may never know. Like, the dude has a tour rider that looks like this, so you can't tell me that he's willing to put up with Kim Kardashian whining that there's too much salad dressing on her salad (actually a 'Keeping Up With The Kardashians' plot-line, y'all).
Pair all of this stuff with super regular meltdowns about everything on the planet, and I have lost all bits of respect I have ever had for the guy, and yet...
As much as I want, out of principle alone, to cut all ties with Kanye, I just can't seem to stop. I love a Kanye love-ballad, even if it's about a fucking Kardashian. That Common album where he's on like every track? It almost makes you feel as if there's not a positive message crammed in there. I want to destroy all of the files on my computer. I want to scratch the shit out of my Def Jam's Rap Star disc, but instead I've got it cued up to the best part... "She said she want some Marvin Gaye...". He changed the face of hip hop, but is also the worst.
Fuck you, Kanye West. Also, please never leave my life.
~sarah p.
Sunday, October 04, 2015
A Few Thoughts On Fall 2015 Fashion:
*The first day of grade eleven, I wore knee socks, a button down shirt, and the shortest corduroy skirt on the planet. When I walked though the door, the pimp that went to my school told me I was "looking good". I felt pretty great about myself, until I realized that I probably owed him a favor now.
*How the fuck you gonna keep those fur boots clean, guys? Never go outside?
*Autumn is rearing it's ugly head around the corner, and it's tough to get the right jacket balance. It's either you under-do it and freeze your shit off, or you're sweating under six layered coats on like an old Asian lady on the bus. I used to error on the side of the former, but the latter becomes more attractive the older I get.
*I don't know when I became a jean-vest person, but boy, it is life-changing shit. It makes evvverything look sassy. Going through my closet, it's harder to find an outfit that it won't improve.
p.s. I totally do know when I became a jean vest person. It was Monday.
~sarah p.
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