Happy B-day Mary Wilson! She turns 70.
Balenciaga F/W 2007-08.
Rare Vintage Chinese Opera Photos
Photographer Zhang Yaxin was one of the only people in China with access to color film during the Chinese Cultural Revolution (1966-76). Zhang was a photographer for Xinhua News Agency when he was chosen by Jiang Qing, the wife of Chairman Mao Zedong, to photograph the performances of the model operas she developed after the Communist Party leaders banned traditional Peking opera for being too bourgeois. - Via
These whirlwind weeks will be my end if I’m not careful
I smell the faint fragrance of burning and it reminds me of my own lit fuse
And good lord was I lit!
Scene: a karaoke joint near Gay Street
A catty queen tries to clock me with his scepter
In reality, the floppy rod…of a bloated court jester
And my insults slap the crown clear off his head
An arm wrestle later with an incensed bartender
Mean I’m out the door, driving to get home…dying to get home.
At warp speed I’m going…going…gone
I’m a black light flying UFO-style
And then those jagged little razors
Dangling star-like in mental mid-air
All at once drop…and shred me bare
I see my cat, the one who died, Sammy
And my beagle, Lady, who left last year
And I see all the things I’ve lost
Or willed away
The injustice of it, violently viridian vomit
Splashes the sloping stone face of this sharp mount away
Yes. Oh God Yes! I cried today.
Cried for all I’ve ever known and shall never know again
Cried for all the minutes slain and hours drained
And my tears fell like acid rain upon the acrid plains
Of my ‘bitter and vindictive’ little mean girl ways
And it grew brambles there, and it grew thorns…
And all at once I think I sprouted devil’s horns
I wailed banshee-high and let the sound of my roar
Ride the air, vitriol and shining
Sometimes it’s good to scream
The kind of scream that silences the world outside you
And chills your foes right to the bone
I think in that moment, everyone who’s ever hurt me
Shivered a bit as I shouted my way home
I hurricane-howled and dry heaved in a storm
Of monsoon tears and drunken debris
Today, I cried. I cried for me.