January 2012
7 posts
1 tag
3 tags
December 2011
2 posts
Even if drug addiction carried a certain stigma, it was also fairly common; among the rarefied circles in which I’d grown up in Manhattan (as an upwardly aspirational have-not who among the super-rich, I should say), going to rehab was as predictable an adolescent rite of passage as a bar mitzvah.
But the shame that I associated with my abnormal relationship with food, and with my body, was...
November 2011
8 posts
October 2011
11 posts
“There is so much pressure to look a certain way—it was like that when I was...”
– H.M
Nabokov once said that genius is finding the invisible link between things, and that’s how I choose to live my life. Everything’s connected and everything has meaning if you look for it.
“Women in his films just seem to be cardboard cutouts, caricatures, the embodiment of David Lynch’s deepest fantasies, hence, the lesbian scene at Mulholland Dr.” -K.H
September 2011
5 posts
“What attracts me is something broken, something a bit off. I never comb my hair...”
– L.D
As long as you hate, there will be people to hate. I think the popular music has gone truly weird. It’s either cutesy-wutesy or it’s hard, nasty stuff. It’s good that this has life again with the youth. I wanted to be successful, not famous. I’m a tidy sort of bloke. I don’t like chaos. I kept records in the record rack, tea in the tea caddy, and pot in the pot...
August 2011
6 posts
1 tag
July 2011
3 posts
June 2011
4 posts
Bob Dylan 1966 Interview
What made you decide to go the rock-'n'-roll route?
Bob Dylan: Carelessness. I lost my one true love. I started drinking. The first thing I know, I'm in a card game. Then I'm in a crap game. I wake up in a pool hall. Then this big Mexican lady drags me off the table, takes me to Philadelphia. She leaves me alone in her house, and it burns down. I wound up in Phoenix. I get a job as a Chinaman. I start working in a dime store, and move in with a 13-year-old girl. Then this big Mexican lady from Philadelphia comes in and burns the house down. I go down to Dallas. I get a job as a "before" in a Charles Atlas "before and after" ad. I move in with a delivery boy who can cook fantastic chili and hot dogs. Then this 13-year-old girl from Phoenix comes and burns the house down. The delivery boy - he ain't so mild: He gives her the knife, and the next thing I know I'm in Omaha. It's so cold there, by this time I'm robbing my own bicycles and frying my own fish. I stumble onto some luck and got a job as a carburetor out at the hot-rod races every Thursday night. I move in with a high school teacher who also does a little plumbing on the side, who ain't much to look at, but who built a special kind of refrigerator that can turn newspaper into lettuce. Everything's going good until that delivery boy shows up and tries to knife me. Needless to say, he burned the house down, and I hit the road. The first guy that picked me up asked me if I wanted to be a star. What could I say?
And that's how you became a rock-'n'-roll singer?
Bob Dylan: No, that's how I got tuberculosis.
1 tag
May 2011
2 posts
April 2011
2 posts
March 2011
5 posts
