VICE WRITERS
Music Reviews
Rating: X(((((((
Ladies, imagine being a Vice writer. Just walking around everywhere with your entitlement and ennui and midlength penis all gently bouncing in step; wearing a male tank top or a waxed mustache or some shit. Imagine having an ironic, retro-sexist dudebro-voice and getting together with a couple of other white guys and some cocaine and making your not-at-all-different voices all sync up as tautly as your nihilistic senses of humor, then snuggling all up together (no homo!) in a big Bushwick loft of partially employed trust-fund kids while something noninformative is happening on the Internet. What a life. I guess there’s the whole “everyone in the world thinks I’m an asshole” thing to deal with, too, but let’s not split hairs here: Vice writers got it pretty fucking made.
"[TRIGGER WARNING for Abuse]
I know I’ve told this story before, but my abusive ex refused to let me take birth control. I was on the pill until he found them in my purse.
I went to the Student Health Center—they were completely unhelpful, choosing to lecture me about the importance of safe sex (recommending condoms) instead of actually listening to my problem.
Then I went to Planned Parenthood. The Nurse Practitioner took one look at my fading bruises and stopped the exam. She called in the doctor. The doctor came in and simply asked me: “Are you ready to leave him?” When I denied that I was being abused, she didn’t argue with me. She just asked me what I needed. I said I need a birth control method that my boyfriend couldn’t detect. She recommended a few options and we decided on Depo.
When I told her that my boyfriend read my emails and listened to my phone messages and was known to follow me, she suggested to do the Depo injections at off hours when the clinic was normally closed. She made a note in my chart and instructed the front desk never to leave messages for me—instead, she programmed her personal cell phone number into my phone under the name “Nora”. She told me she would call me to schedule my appointments; she wouldn’t leave a message, but I should call her back when I was able to.
And that was it. No judgment. No lecture. She walked me to the door and told me to call her day or night if I needed anything. That she lived 5 blocks from campus and would come get me. That I wasn’t alone. That she just wanted me to be safe.
I never called her to come to my rescue. But I have no doubt that she would have come if I had called. She kept me on Depo for a year, giving me those monthly injections in secret, helping me prevent a desperately unwanted pregnancy.
I cannot thank Planned Parenthood enough for the work they do.
"Curious Georgiana (via sexistmorons)
(via anorable)
Just completed this page relief sculpture called “LA Woman”. Pages from an old photo book of Los Angeles have been made into loops and assembled into this figure. The little delicacies that emerge as I bend and cluster the pages, the vignettes that reveal themselves outside and inside, is what I get lost in for that is where the stories lie. The bottom begins in oranges and blues with a branch of aqua tones that all flourishes into a bloom of black and white images.
(via teachingliteracy)
(via thornalmighty)
26th Birthday Resolutions
Run a 5k Learn to play the Banjo Learn French
Reblogging pica of Mia Farrow to inspire myself for my hair appointment on Wednesday. That’s what tumblr is for right?
ICONIC HAIR SUNDAY: ROSEMARY
Rosemary’s Baby (1968), directed by: Roman Polanski, hair by: Vidal Sassoon
