I first stumbled upon this beautiful tattoo on A Cup of Jo (a gem of a blog I really should be reading more of). Betsy Dunlop offers amazing calligraphy for special projects, and this must be one of the most special ever – the names of his daughters on a father’s arm. Forever.
Just one of the countless sit-down breaks we took at yesterday’s (not-quite) Old School K-Pop Party.
A lethal combination of J’s lethargy and my killer heels. Killer, like literally.
Then it dawned upon me with a certain suddeness that I was different from the others; or like, mayhap, in heart and life and longing, but shut out from their world by a vast veil. I had thereafter no desire to tear down that veil, to creep through; I held all beyond it in common contempt, and lived above it in a region of blue sky and great wandering shadows.
So here I sit, after midnight, craving for a sizzling bowl of bibimbap (or bimbimbong, as B hilariously coined it today) while sifting through the scores of food pictures I’ve taken over the years. Not the wisest thing to be doing at this hour.
I thought I did quite a good job today as I banged up a whole pot of salmon and porcini mushroom risotto, albeit the fact that it was a tad wetter than I’d have liked because I used Korean rice and not arborio. But it really doesn’t cut it now, as I’m suffering from sad hunger pangs and a serious case of food envy.
I don’t have the Amazonian legs to pull off creamy waves of ruffles, gorgeous draping or ruching, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know a fabulous creation when I see one.
I’m so incredibly late in posting this up, but I suppose it’s only now as I’m in the thick of reading Baudrillard that simulacra and hyperreality are starting to fascinate me. Barbie and Christian Louboutin himself strike up a lovely dolliance in their pictures together, don’t they?
To dissimulate is to feign not to have what one has. To simulate is to feign to have what one hasn’t.
[Jean Baudrillard, Simulacra and Simulations (1988)]