My lasting tribute

I wrote this earlier this month, after being shaken by the death of one of my favourite actors, and after reading the article about it in Us Weekly. I was sort of inspired by Patti Smith's poem tribute to Edie Sedgwick, which I oddly found underneath some random papers by my stereo minutes after reading the Us article.
I gave this the best that I could.
This one's for you.


The Client

Oh it's not right
It's not right
His Knoxville voice
Made directors gasp
So mistaken
Carried weight on young shoulders
It's not right
Never dared to encounter
And how I've lost
What could have been
We'd turn the town
Across and down
Oh, we'd ride the night
Fill the air
Feel the lights
It's not right
It's not right
And how I dreamed
Of silver screens
We'd shake the hills
Get inside
Reporter's minds
Oh, it's not right
It's not right
And how I dreamed
Of silver screens
It's not right
He's past wasted
In the land
Ten years wasted
La La Land
We'll never get
The next Brad Pitt
And how I'll never
Act with you
Never handle
The abuse
And how you dreamed
Of silver screens
Oh, it's not right
It's not right
It's not right
We'll never get
The next Brad Pitt
You're with the Dean
Sad silver screens
I'd love to see you
Back on screen

Brad Renfro deserves more than the Academy could ever give

Just who the hell do they think they are? How could they just completely leave Brad Renfro out of their memorial montage?
I know I speak for many when I say that this is truly one of the most horrible things to ever happen during an award ceremony.

Brad Renfro is an icon, especially to my generation. No one could ever have the same impact on me, and I mean this in the most sincerest way possible. Ever since I was a little girl, I've looked up to his work. And yes, I've had quite the movie star crush on him for nearly fourteen years. Most of the reason I've been watching during this award season is because I wanted to see the tributes and witness the impact of two of my fallen childhood/lifelong idols, Brad and Heath Ledger. I was honestly devastated when I didn't see a part of Brad's legacy on that screen, and while I know that his impact will live on in my mind no matter what, I just can't believe anyone could leave out such an accomplished actor during the one final moment he'd have to be a part of a ceremony.

Hollywood, forsake thee.

Le Boredom

I want this hair.

I also want some alcohol.
But what can ya do...

Everybody here's got sex on their minds

So I've been looking through my old journals from throughout last year, and I'm thinking that maybe this partial sobriety experiment will do me some good.
I mean, who knows.... Maybe not being a self-destructive, skankass, spracked-out, crankheart, Doherty-in-training might not be such a bad idea.

(Not-so) Sad memories I can't recall

I have rediscovered the joys of alcoholism.
But shhhh don't tell my case manager. :DDD

No but srsly, last night was fucking fun as hell. Liz, Brittany, and Ashley are a total win in my book. So are all the hot friends.

GAH. I still feel dizzy like a mo'fo', and have so much BA shit to do still. Fucking shit....
I'm off to watch the Puppy Bowl (best shit ever) again and try to bullshit my way through Business Law. How horrible is that.... I went to my business law class at Kentridge maybe five or six times in two months, got stoned instead, and now I have to take that shit again on a junior college level.
Payback can suck a tit.

P.S. - Everyone should go buy the latest Justice, Steve Aoki, and Vampire Weekend albums because they are fucking AMAZING. I've got to get my hands on some more Uffie now.

So December...

This is what happens when you trip out on Prozac and Midol stimulants while contemplating peroxide status (inspired by the Nov./Dec. '03 issue of ElleGirl) and wishing you were born an Englishman in the 1950s.

...

On the walk down 128
I can hardly stand the wait
For a puff and a sigh
Oh, I'm always so shy
With that redhead, floppy-haired boy

So I'll try to find the words
Before the paper stops the burn
Can't keep up with the chat
Must've looked like an ass
To that redhead, floppy-haired boy

No time to dance
I guess I missed my chance
With that redhead, floppy-haired boy

Wouldn't dare to say
He's too young anyway
Oh, that redhead, floppy-haired boy

So I'll bum you another smoke
So I can start to hope
You'll slide your hand into mine
Gonna get my time
With that redhead, floppy-haired boy

Never dared to say
Don't have the nerve anyway
With that redhead, floppy-haired boy

No time to dance
Guess I missed my chance
With that redhead, floppy-haired boy

Does this mean I'm gay?

As I write this, I am eating a giant banana and listening to a MisShapes/Junior Sanchez mix of Madonna.
It seems a fitting end to a Romy and Michelle day(!).

Anyways, is it just me, or has Fred Meyer been AMAZING lately? I've gone there about five times in the past week and a half and spent upwards of $100 USD almost every time. I couldn't even tell you what I've bought, because it's mostly been tiny things like cherry print Converse and ZOMG watermelon Lip Smackers. I just got that blue/pink Max Factor Vivid Impact Mascara the other day too. Not the best deal I've ever come across (for cheap coloured lashes, Jane is always the winner), but the sparkles look quite delightful in my hair and give it that lighter shade of brown with a hint of purple image that's just great.
I've got about six liters of caffeine and plenty of sugary snacks to go with that pizazz, so tonight's gearing up to be a doozy.
I'm off to try on my new camisole sets now.

Don't fear the stutter.
'Night.

I gets no love

I can't sleep at all.
All I've been able to think about for the past two weeks is Brad Renfro, Heath Ledger, and all my other childhood heroes and how they keep dying. Even Suzanne Pleshette (sp?). I remember watching Bob Newhart with Dad (who also died, surprise surprise) and how it was just suuuch a classic and a grand old bonding time for us back when.
(On a side note, Stiff Little Fingers' "Nobody's Hero" has just begun playing on my media player. Dot dot dot.)
Seriously, this past year has just been shit in terms of the ones I admire going down. I think I may be starting to buy into that whole "the world's going to end in four years" thing that my brother told me about last Tuesday.
I can't even begin to describe my frame of mind right now, because even I don't understand it. I honestly don't know what's wrong this time. But then again, the Fluoxetine's making it seem like nothing is wrong. So maybe it's all okay? But what is it, exactly? And why can't I seem to remember anything that's happened before thirteen days ago? Fucking stimulants. Rip me from one and thrust me upon another. Thanks, Group Health.

On a lighter but somehow equally devastating note, one of those forbidden/hidden/I-actually-thought-he-wanted-me loverundercovers has found someone new. I don't know who. I just saw it on MySpace, my usual dreamcrusher. But I'm telling myself that I was over him anyways.
Speaking of over, I've been having nightmares non-stop for the past month and a half. Horrible fucking nightmares. The ones involving my father have stopped recently, only to be replaced with dreams of dead Brad and Heath. They almost always involve me accidentally (or is it on purpose?) overdosing and trying to hide the fact that I'm dying from everyone. Reminds me of those crank-fueled nights that I don't actually remember. Maybe it's a sign that I'll find someone willing to score me one fucking hit sometime soon.
Fucking shit, I think I'm starting to deteriorate again.