I just read the "W" magazine for May 2011 today. Okay, I looked at the pictures and skimmed the articles today. I usually read the articles on my second time through the epically-proportioned magazine, thoguh. My "W" subscription is one of my few indulgences.
It was a design issue this month. Yes, there was still some fashion. Channel is getting opulent, and D & G had leopard print on two different pages. I loved the spread of kaleidoscopic colors, and watches with pretty pink flowers on their faces kept catching my eye... But the real stars of the magazine this month were the chairs.
There were chairs everywhere! My favorite is the Transat from 1927 designed by Eileen Gray on page 74. Now that is a beautiful chair.
Everything can be a work of art... even a chair. Most people do not know that. And despite the fact I am dressing like a fertility symbol these days, I still believe in fashion as art.
It may have been months ago the last time something I wore inspired a designer, but that is okay with me. I feel the same way about designers as I feel about the legions of women who have been trying to dress like me for years. I am ludicrously flattered, but please try to be your natural, beautiful selves instead. That is, after all, what I do. I insist on being my naturally beautiful self all the time.
I would be more flattered if you copied my incorruptibly independent attitude than if you copied my size eleven wide red platform heels.
"W" magazine also had an article called "Brokedown Palace" this month, and it reminded me of just how much I miss San Francisco. Do you know what I miss about my City by the Bay? I miss the people. I miss the conversations. I miss the sense of community.
I miss walking the same blocks from where I was staying to the Caffé Trieste carrying my little tablet PC every morning and being able to greet everyone I passed on the bustling city blocks by name. I miss walking into Specs alone on a weeknight just to be joined in hysterical conversation by a neighbor who had also just happened to have wandered in that night. I miss my neighborhood. I miss my feeling of home.
I wonder how you are, San Francisco. I know the government terrorized you while I was there. I did my best to keep you safe. Promise me you will never put chips in your heads again. And keep fighting the good fight. I know how hard you work.
Yes, I was just sitting in Café Diem in Ankeny, IA perusing the images in May's "W" magazine. I do not go out everyday to the coffeeshop here thinking I will find a similar sense of community. I do not expect that of Ankeny.
Why do I still go out everyday and drink the coffee in Ankeny, then? Well, how else will I know when they finally get the crap out of the water? Yes, I drank the coffee today, and there is still something in the water. Please, my beautiful world, tell Ankeny to do something about this. Children drink this water. Oh, and while you are at it, it might help to tell them to read this blog. I do not think they read.
Ankeny, I know how hard you are trying. And I appreciate it. I know I sometimes come across as mean if you do read this blog, but try to read these posts with the tone of voice they are intended to carry. If you have ever sat down next to me and spoken to me, as you are all welcome to do, you would know how sunny I really am. Just bother, Ankeny. Bother to care.
Yes, I am stuck and stranded nearly penniless in Iowa. I technically have money. My evil father just will not let me control any of it.
I just went to WellsFargo.com to check my balance, and I still have about $13 as the combined balance of my checking and savings accounts. Huh, my dad is still being evil. He is still not allowing me ANY of my own money. He also complains that I constantly want to leave town. Well, dad, if you did not insist on mistreating me so thoroughly, maybe I would not want to leave so desperately.
I think the truth is finally reaching Iowa. Thank you for that. I know people will do the right thing if they can get to the truth. Thank you for everything, and please keep the truth moving around out there.
I heard a rumor today that people believe I was once in "Girls Gone Wild." Where the hell did that piece of libel come from? That is the sort of thing you all, my beautiful world, should be calling out as lies the moment you hear it. Yes, the voices pumped into my head through speakers spew a lot of nonsense, but I do not fall for it. When you hear lies, neither should you.
Is anyone else sick of this ridiculous bubble? Is anyone else sick of all of the lies? Are you all out there asking questions and demanding answers? Do you know why this is happening, yet? Do not accept answers that are not built on the truth and do not make logical sense.
Never voluntarily give up your human rights without knowing why. If you do not get answers you like, or even if you do not get answers at all, refuse to comply. These are HUMAN RIGHTS we are talking about. Never EVER give them away.
And now it is time for an elementary physics lesson!
mass = the amount of stuff called matter (Think of it as atoms.) that make up something
Mass is measured in grams. Mass is not weight. Weight is the force gravity has pulling something down. Weight is measured in Newtons or pounds.
velocity = the change in an object's location over time
Velocity has both a magnitude (speed) and a direction.
acceleration = the change in an object's velocity over time
Acceleration is the speeding up or slowing down of an object. If the object has a constant speed, then it has a velocity without acceleration.
momentum = mass x velocity
energy = mass x velocity x velocity = mass x velocity^2 (mass times velocity squared)
force = mass x acceleration
I bring all of this up because of the way you, my beautiful world, and I are changing this planet for the better. The truth has velocity as it gets around. There is momentum behind everything we do. I am a constant source of energy. We have become a force to be reckoned with in the world.
But what we need most now is inertia. We need to resist the things in this world that are trying to slow us down. Even better, though, if there is any way to speed up getting me out of this bubble, I say do it. Always, always, always end the human rights violations first.
As for human rights, I only have my freedom of speech. I do not have safety. I do not have privacy. I do not even have clean water to drink.
You, all of America, do not have your human rights either. You do not have freedom of speech. You do not have the freedom of the press. You do not have the right to assemble and associate with anyone you want. But what you do have is numbers.
There are enough of you that if you stand up and demand your rights, you will get them all back. You just need to organize. You need to pick a date and time. And you need to universally refuse to comply with the rules of oppression and persecution that Obama the Terrorist enforces. Liberate yourselves. Go claim your human rights.
This wide world is such a beautiful place. Have you ever had a chance to see my travel photography? Ask someone on my Facebook friends list if you can peruse my travel photos some time. Most of them are in there. In my natural state, I am a traveler, you see.
Part of my dad's argument that I am mentally incompetent to make decisions for myself hinged on the fact I want to see Kathmandu. His argument made absolutely no sense to me; who does not want to see Kathmandu? The worst part is, the judge agreed that world travel is a sign of insanity. Please get the truth into all of Iowa. This is what I am dealing with in here.
Yes, I love to travel, but no, I have never traveled among the planets. I know you mean it as flattery, and it sort of makes me blush depending on how you say it... but no, I am not an extra-terrestrial. I do not mind your drawing the metaphor, though. I know some parts of me are other-worldly.
What I worry about, though, is that if you spread around that I am not human, I might never get my human rights. We could fix this easily if your metaphor simply said that I am a human from another planet. Besides, we all know I am terrestrial. I was born in Duluth, Minnesota, after all.
I am going to go get the news, now. Please take care out there... and keep fighting the good fight!
Sweetness, I mailed you another letter today. That means you should still be expecting mail tomorrow and Saturday. Why am I writing so much these days? ... I write so much because I really am that miserable. Oh, my Mr. Love-of-my-Life, I know how hard you are working to get through the bubble to be with me. I am so sorry I got you caught up in this miserable mess. Thank you for staying with me through all of this. Do you need any help out there?