Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Patterns
Photo By: The Sartorialist
I always envy people who can wear different patterns together and look good. I have trouble matching colors, etc. I blame it on the fact that I'm color-blind. But maybe that's a cop out.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Backstage Dash
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Post Secret Celebrates Love
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
A Reminder of My Sexy Summer
Photo Credit: Nylon Blogs
I follow Nylon religiously, and as I've posted before... They share grafitti from around the world. Today's picture came from someone who was in Florence. I instantly recognized the image and was really excited. I probably have a picture of it myself amongst the thousands I have from those weeks in Firenze. It's on a street that my friends and I walked down on our way home from one of our favorite gelato places, Vivoli.
Ah, the warm fuzzies are delicious on a cold day...
Click here to see more from Nylon.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Be Fully Alive
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Confession
With lines by Ralph Angel
I only know what people don't tell me,
The looks on their faces before they have their morning coffee.
For all you know it's a question of bread
Because it rarely is anything more.
"The salsa's on aisle five," next to the dust mops
But we reject consumption and look in the other direction at
A pile of bricks. A ladder. Packages and paper, I miss everyone
Once the guests are gone and the leaves change,
Arranged like magazines and bones, a Coke bottle
Broken on the side of the road like the
moral upbringing of tomorrow's youth.
In the dream I know by heart, all is forgotten.
All that's left is the ideas for change,
begun on a paper napkin and folded into a coat pocket.
Someone will find it in a year and throw it away
Because it's not a twenty dollar bill.
Sometimes we go dancing
Though the world doesn't stop turning, mixing up
the good and the bad but never neutralizing the problems.
A virgin answers all her questions.
And it serves her right to leave experience out. It's
Impossible to make sense of one face
But that's the only thing I know how to do.
I only know what people don't tell me,
The looks on their faces before they have their morning coffee.
For all you know it's a question of bread
Because it rarely is anything more.
"The salsa's on aisle five," next to the dust mops
But we reject consumption and look in the other direction at
A pile of bricks. A ladder. Packages and paper, I miss everyone
Once the guests are gone and the leaves change,
Arranged like magazines and bones, a Coke bottle
Broken on the side of the road like the
moral upbringing of tomorrow's youth.
In the dream I know by heart, all is forgotten.
All that's left is the ideas for change,
begun on a paper napkin and folded into a coat pocket.
Someone will find it in a year and throw it away
Because it's not a twenty dollar bill.
Sometimes we go dancing
Though the world doesn't stop turning, mixing up
the good and the bad but never neutralizing the problems.
A virgin answers all her questions.
And it serves her right to leave experience out. It's
Impossible to make sense of one face
But that's the only thing I know how to do.
Monday, February 2, 2009
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