Deconstructing Panda

A wise party boy once pleaded to his lover "can't we just have no strings attached sex, downing some jack... I poured the Champaign that night. Such a pristine wreck of an image... a libertine, and not junked out like the band, With loud mouthed all showing out in a baggy t-shirt, he was damn so hip, I was so God damn hip. Underlying is a true death of depressed, shackles that tackle him to the ground, like some incubus fucking, raping, with out consent. It was a pleasure to be so rough almost a luxury.

I live such a sham portraying all these many characters in the hopes to have people like me. Its hard to be real when you are too unsure if most people will like you and you have such a deep paranoia of self image and staring and obsessing at yourself naked in the mirror. I often feel that I am a novelty, a comic, unsexualized, unfuckable. Then I start to wonder about how much of a social fiend I am and all my lovers who were so socially retarded. Or maybe they were the ones who were just beyond it and unfazed by the shallow fixings. They were allowed to view the real me. I often wonder whether or not sex and or love could break down boarders, shatter preconceived notions or just validate them. On Monday while at lunch with Jessik we bumped into our friend Kely who was on of those beyond a crazy. Kely rarely went out, but when she did she always got stuck with boys who thought she was as proper as her well placed image. One night she ended up trying out randomly a boy, who thought she would be the librarian dream with red soles... as her look portrayed. Instead he found a typical equal opportunistic woman who allowed herself to fuck without the emotion or gender trained chastity women of the past should have had. The truth was she was just in it for fun as most of my friends desensitized by boys in the scene. Regardless she was uncomfortable by a scene-boy who showed his emotions, and he was taken off guard by a girl who knew what she wanted... Though they enjoyed each other his stance in a crowded room got him lost in translation of being "one of the good ones"... Who was he to be the "good one" Judging a lifestyle that was what everyone would think he only knew and had to offered.

She left giving me new eyes, now that my fixation was over analyzed and hopefully distinguished I think it was time to have fun and play. It was sad to think that the last week wasn't that eventful in there was nothing substantial to grasp on. By Monday night was as consistent as it could be, really wasn't a shut down as much as just the sexual frustration and indecent surroundings. My dance was free and flounced. The singer gave us soul in her dropped crotch harem pants, that I am ever so obsessed with, she was so butch and pulled it off well.









The next day I went on a lunch date With Pringle. At first I was unsure of what conversational capacity there was to be had. I was delightfully surprised at what we had in common a passion for music hard work and such. I wasn't sure of where I was to be the friend zone. I was unsure whether or not the Light flirting was Pringle's humoring me or being genuine. Regardless Pringles dimples and blond hair really turned me on... No don't think like that BJ this could be another mind fuck you are giving yourself... again. Upon leaving the rather kitschy carb joint, I felt like recreating the scene from Me and You and Everyone we know repeating fuck, and fuck in various ways. I later left to go on an existential hunt, harassing Rox for a quick coffee at the office before meeting Romania and Michael for a light salad and ending my mind at Audrey's.





Wednesday Nana got me to mustered enough energy for a round at Bardot. It quickly packed in and after a few shots of brandy I was socially heightened. It was fun to see everyone and dance so freely and wildly sweating, moving with no judgment. Pringle stood there simple, I preyed for some attention in hopes of being pulled back into the "office" or some other role playing... Instead I received the pat-on-the-back-buddy. I was mildly crushed but knew that the lunch date was now more of a play date...shit! It was bad enough I fell for a patron of the night, now I that I tried to get off the patron and move to a worker of the night, I knew I was setting myself up for sheer disappointment and then some... But I kind of loved it. It was different for Lina who's boyfriend Murray worked the night as a DJ, sure he had his social interactions, but behind the DJ booth he had his eye on the turntable as well as lurking down onto the dance floor where Lina had her bohemian dance.























I can't seem to truly fathom the idea of a relationship, but the idea is a nice one, simply nice and comforting, not to mention the idea of a relationship and the conformity that is involved is a huge step to being. I know now what I didn't years ago, I need to complete myself before having someone else dress my fulfillment, I didn't need the simplicity of others to wrap my complexities up. I need to go away from being strained by my intensities and loosen up, not simplify. I needed to find someone who was simple and willing to build layers of substance on... not impose simplicity.

Bull Fighter

Bull fighter metaphor, he is draped in bloody red, the color of 1 hour coagulation, the faded gold of years of wear and tear abuse by someone too rich that they didn't care and the tarnished black of a single senseless fall onto the dry and barren dirt, his valor is apparent in his death waltz with the bull. The bull's horn now splintered through the velvet that had not only protected the young bull but now showed him as old and haggard, the dance commences, the passions collide. The fighter may have been experienced with years of winning, but did he really win or with his consistent winnings just a facade for the fact that his lack of losing only brought his arrogance his misogyny, his delusions of what was real important. kakakaboom he is hit and is over... he is gone along with his wish my death wish to free him, he is alive in the winner circle... I gave him what he needed more then what he thought he wanted.

I crashed pretty hard after the Brian show, I will say I think I lost a little weight, saved some cash from not boozing and chaining and eating out. I had spent nearly 3 weeks straight with sleeplessness, and various other draining hobbies. My run in skimpy clothing in hot, hot, heat and cold, cold nights. It was a new time and day I felt comfortable, too comfortable at home. It was a slow recession in the social circuit and I knew that Coachella would be the determining factor in the latter outcome.

I searched the blog I would be working for on Tuesday and instantly became infuriated. The review of Brian's show was up, It was not my review. Instead of an intimate article which pinpointed every detail and collaboration. I found a tasteless newbies misunderstanding and bashing of the show, disregarding the details of the Spats and wooden head dresses. The writers lazy reporting did not bother to research the social connections and reasoning for these people to come together. Regardless of who's opinion, it was no place for an company not yet launched to start picking at establishments, it was cheap and frowned upon. I immediately called Michelle at 1:36 in the AM. Exasperated I told her, "I want out right now, I have had more pleasurable, professional, and productive experiences from 17 year old." There was simply no experience to forge that type of authority, I could not bare to work for a company that would cheapen my worth, nor one that tried to speak intellectually without the capacity. I knew that I would have to let go while the style-less tribe of Lauren Conrad collection barbarians placed mutiny upon each other. It was not in my place to interject.

Weds was odd and empty as I went to Bardot out of my mind with 5 shots prior jumping around with Nana and their came Robzy and Romania and Jessik all the wild bunch was together... Including Margiela whom I dragged out briefly to try to get a photo from the Arab Parrot to get a satirical blip on this fool who refuses me pleasures. I felt like some Anita Pallenberg's Tyrant who couldn't get her Angel. I left to dance converse and then came and idea. I ravaged the idea that Pringle was single. Pringle looked even more clean cut then Margiela and had a more touchable and approachable Canadian vibe that I thought was rather delectable. The truth was I just needed some detachment and I placed myself into the Idea that I do want foundation but I knew that if I were to engage in a dance with someone who had a different view on life, of love'em and leave'em fast. I was not about to judge but I didn't really know Pringles creed and views on the subject, or even if Pringle wanted to fuck me. I tried my hand at being a cute but I was all to sure if I just came off as a lush. I danced away in fear of rejection, in the thought that I was really a lush. Fuck it I knew that I lived a lush life but i was not about to be subjugated as a lush.

In the day I was out of school and aimless roaming around in appreciation for the kitschier things in life. The garish store windows and generic mothers were out and burning. It was fabulous and also my youth before me, what I had been conditioned to know as life itself... I was glad that got away and now am a tourist in my own home.






Thursday was the last night for the spat girls at Hwood but I didn't come out, it was too much and my time had been sipped dry, I rolled in bed and just listened to something a bit relaxing as I sipped on tea and watched Irma Vep. In my weakest I felt as if Maggie Cheung's latex clad character empowered me. It was interesting to see her play coy and clueless yet snap into character when needed. I slept well and woke up for work, that was all the day had to please me, the work. After work I headed to the Insight sale for quite the unnoticeable sight. Margiela was in an uncomfortable daze holding a ciggie, so unaware yet self conscious. Margiela approached the car with me and Khalili inside, trying to make small talk, "fuck this is so catching me off guard". It concerned too much involvement, simply draining and unnecessary, but we took the parking spot that was preoccupied by such mindless self-indulgence. Once in I scurried and bought the last Chicks on Speed insight bag bag.




Friday I struggled to go out, there was nothing that seemed to be able to provoke me into something new and fun. There was no emotion just context for reasoning to go out. I then received a phone call dragging me out to Lauren Brown and Rachel Kolar's new play, Parabox. going in it was built up to its hype. the experimental noise music was a perfect transition for each scene. It was so simple and had no huss and fuss to over complicate the conceptualism. It was a commentary of addiction and multimedia... It was simply what I needed. The ending scene was the simplification of what life would bring, some get stuck some move on... I felt the need to stay stuck a bit more hopefully I would move on some day.







After going home by chance and boredom Sasha called shortly after midnight, it was a time to go out. I was still in the deep thoughts of how much the girls work had rubbed me in, lightly depressing, more melancholy, I gave in to the thought that it would not be the average Teddy's night but rather a visual satire of a Friday night. We went to the 25 at the Roosevelt sitting down from the doorway we watched at the horrific tragedies as they undulated around flirting with each other alike in stylistic Communism.





After a beer shake, diet coke and copious amounts of fries and yam fries we headed out meeting up with Christian for an after shindig. Once in the house it came back to me as the house that was dragged out on NYE08. It was wrong, all wrong to street and eager. Christian arrived shortly after our arrival, tagging along was his ever so hip gamine and Margiela... I struggled to minimize interaction and maximize wit as it was the only way I knew how to get out of various situations. I rubbed Sasha's arm in disapproval and pleaded to leave, she agreed, and then we were off. I stayed in, and greeted Saturday as usual slow and brainless, sleeping in and lounging around. I didn't have much will or need to do anything. I knew that I was about to embark on a revival of what was Important, me...










Sunday night on a whim I actually left the house for conversations laughs and updates Edie, Mel, Eli and I met up and snaked on various nibbles. It was what I needed to hide away. Life might have been at a stand still but for once in my life I felt that I was taking in medication that I had needed, my life of excess was built off subsistence.





I was still uncertain about the course of things, almost scared at the slowed down social itinerary, as well as my problems of detachment and delusions... I was stuck... but at least I had friends

Elevator Straight Into My Skull

Time scientists say that the present is represented by 2 and a half seconds... I often think that everyone-- at least me is still stuck in the past. I don't ever look to the future as I feel that I view it in too much of a commitment

All the bohos came out in support of Kime Buzzelli's art show, her work expressed all that I felt as her pictures screamed of lonely, scared, vindictive, whimsical, trashed, and chicer then ever femme fatals. her work spoke to me as the longing and depression that was the undertone was shielded in an array of color conscious mysticism. Simply so dark and fucked up yet glamorous and gaudy-good.
After an hour in a Moschino peace sign and vintage fringe came and left it was nice change.









The next night everyone came out for Romania's birthday... As I started my night of I figured that the party would go on til at least 4 am in a sybaritic affair. My first stop with Lanni was Hwood where the night started to fade as I received a text from Margiela


M: What's wrong with me. Why am I so asexual there are a bunch of amazing guys here and I'm not feeling it.
BJPB: Counter-rebellionism from suppressive parents I don't know, but it's not fair to ask someone who has such an ideology that, maybe there is someone out there who is just as vulnerable as me. I may wear my heart on my sleeve and get fucked over by it, maybe even like it. but you have no heart... and there are others like you. good luck
finding them, I have to deal too.


It wasn't the fact that M texted me but rather the fact that I was being taunted and up to a certain extent I liked it...How can you even be friends with someone who rejected you, and now is fucked up enough to play with you like some figurative cat and mouse game involving my suspension above Margiela's mouth, turned on as i drop into the mouth of my night porters mouth? Later on the week I was suggested to not feed myself with this abuse. Every time I met up with M I felt more more of my emotions drained almost as if my self delusions. I often think to feed yourself with hopes only starves your emotions in the long run... I felt that though my jolly self was surrounded by people and brotherly love, while my spirit was about to die from starving and persecution, like some orphaned child in Darfur.

I snapped back into it and headed out to meet with edie and the rest of the eastern block. By the time I got there I saw them all at the entrance, paying up to exit. SHIT!, I forgot today was day lights saving time and hours have changed and so have I had lost 1,400 presents. 2 and a half seconds on repeat over and over... we left and together rejoice all that we could at 101, where I bumped into a rather chipper then ever lindsay. The night ended with exhaustion and disillusionment, I felt that if I were anywhere tipsy maybe I could channel Mariah Carey.






It felt as usual as my Mondays felt mundane and Tuesdays are aloofedays. Weds was a drunk hot sweaty ball. I had a Bottle of wine in the bath while waiting for phone call. At Bardot everyone came out to dance shout and scream. groping Margiela for what little attention I could get I was overpowered and never more turned on. I preoccupied myself while talking to Jenni Karlson who just came in from a little time in italy, she had told me of her current backward thinking parents unacceptance of her budding romance with my friend jerri who was a black jew with the tightest ass and legs of an orphan child... he was so hip. my night died as I ran to catch up with nana for a ride to my hang over bed.











Come Thursday the boy that I once knew was back and happy... Sasha and I started the night off at the art walk, rather uninspired other then for an amazing stingray video installation, as well as a book shop that had and amazing borishnokov book that i could kill myself for not getting. later on in the night we split a bottle of wine at my house while eating rather dainty miniture pies before we headed to hwood for a rather interesting trip.














As Sasha left I was left to my own devices as well as the temptation to approach Margiela, standing there lurking rather uninterested but eager at the same time, this inconsistant behaviour bewildered me. how could some who looked so charming be so uneventful. Though I first tried to hustle a ride like some type of Uma Thurman with hitchhiker thumbs I eventually ditched without a god bye knowing that it was better that way. my skin vibrated in joy as Karima and I headed home, stopping by for a cream filled doughnut.


On Friday I headed to the Jessica Willis's showing of her styling work, with Yelena and rekindled we roamed around the converted store and enjoyed Jessica's work using the same plastic triangular body sculptures that we had used in the Ian shoot. Though I had been lubbed up of drinks come time for Teddys I was all sobered up and baffled at the reasoning behind ever going it was all the same.










I woke up exausted and was dragged out of my opium den by Ian for a little lunch and thrifting that ran late, nearly in time for actually going out.






Saturday night came immediately and I came out with nana to ts1 for Ronys birthday that was ever eclectic packed and loud as ever. It refreshed my hopes of the night life that I had belong to and embraced me just as much as I had embraced it. It was a loud night that reminded me of the good days of dinge and designer, of a time where I was young and in love. that night I came to the conclusion that this may have been the only substantial lover I had, the night.














I was out of commission for the next few day until it was time for the epic concert that was T.I. All I could say was that it was a learning experiences that maybe some people don't get the idea and thought of irony I might have looked like a hippie but i never ever felt more like I was going to be shot... hooked up with VIP by the time the concert ended and we got back stage T.I. was escorted out to be waiting for another 8 days until he was sent away to the slammer. That ne day removed from LA made me think of how well I have been treated by this city as a whole, but individually I was very much alone and unwanted















The next day as I headed back to LA, I learned that someone at a certain mags offices were trying to tamper with my name and entery. Fortunately with 2 hours to spare I got in problem free. The first thing I went to was Louis Verdads Louver Collection.


REVIEW
Dita von Tease was what inspired the new creations from Louis Verdad, under the moniker of Louver. The collection was a continuation of the designers prior eponymous label, using the strong masculine/ feminine aesthetic that has became the designers calling card. This time around refinement was the key as the black on black on black left barely any space for his usual splashes of floral hue. Highlights included heavily structured coat dresses, with the ever strong industrial new romantic shape. These shapes were softened with victorian gothic corsets and copious amounts of crochet. The use of texture layering only added to the complexities of the simple form. Accessories included felted flapper hats that mimicked finger waves, ornate devil horns (that I actually found quite wearable), sleeved opera length gloves, and leather thigh highs that acted well in forming the coat dresses. The new offerings came along with a photo installation from August Bradley and quirky film by Robertino Fonseca. The large format Hasselblad photos from Bradley showcased a capsule of Mr Verdad's past seasons of work intertwining with the new Louver selection. The vision of Louis Verdad and his accomplices peaked through the medium of Robertino Fonseca's quirky film installation, which showed the girls frolicking in an erotic manor through a building. When I asked of what his theory for the collection was, "i wanted to do something very much ahead of what I did with Louis Verdad..." "well it's absolutely amazing, thanks for making LA decent" "Thank you, Thank you! I like that, I love that"







After the presentation I made way downstairs for the decades presentation
With the ever so consistent trend of designer vintage trend impacting the style market this season Cameron Silver of Decades sent out the influence for what will be on the streets or in the ball. The peasent gowns and boho style is continuing to impact the market as the look has gone out of silverlake hipsters and onto the brentwood mothers. off the shoulder 70's era studio 54 gowns also helped to predict a huge disco chic revival. Body-con tight tight to loose and flowing, the looks were a much need spash of color along with the one shoulder look coming soon










My next outing til I finally crashed was the Brian Lichtenberg Show which was the culmination of The week and my mind I started out the night with Jessica and the pre-party made of style murderers and alcoholics












then came the show

One of the lead in LA vanguards, brought the house down for the newly assembled CoLA Fashion week. The figure in question is Brian Lichtenberg, who sent out a collection that meld man and beast in a geometric disco splendor. His hallmark patchwork triangles came in nude colors, browns and touches of hologram, the mosaics were further updated by the addition of furs and leathers. The must have silhouette was one armed and body-con, that left barely anything to the imagination, as well as Margiela inspired pointed shoulder pads. The ever so popular harem pants appeared in a few looks. One peculiar look was what appeared like a grey gizmo in the shape of a skirt/ muff. This season also believed in collaboration, with Posso the Spat, they showed thigh high patchwork spats made of various hides. While with Blanc by Franc, the continuing collaboration this time around fused the geometric hats with human hair, . The music blaring was also curated from the downtown Biker gang Posso the DJ.

















Then came the after party, after the night came to an end I fell ill it was an epic and rather vapid few weeks but I knew that my falling ill was to lead me into reincarnation like a phoenix
















buy the new Ingenues single on Itunes "Happy For You"


xxx0
BJ Panda Bear