An Effusion About Bunny

I write what resembles a review, as much for myself, as I do as a Thank You. As an effort to both show gratitude and elegantly purge my chest of pressure.

Songs: Ohia serves as a soundtrack to this effort. A lubricant, I hope. (eXXXpletive deleted)

Connecting with you over sound (and sex?), piqued my interest in your other efforts- clearly, much more pronounced than music. I rented The Brown Bunny, for a variety of reasons. Of COURSE I wanted to see your cock, plus the controversy over the film did its job of enticement. What I didn't intend on, was what I received.

I've told you I'm a poor sleeper. I fight sleep as though it a foe. One day I'll discover why. Until then, I notice now and again how I fill my home and life with soporific items... colors... notions. Cuddly blankets and beds or things that could serve as beds, are strewn about my house. I live alone and have three beds and two chairs you could fall asleep in. Even my "coffee table" is a cushiony thing that only pretends to be a table-like surface. I hunger for soft colors, sounds and sensations. I suppose, subconsciously, to celebrate the rest my psyche wishes it could get more of.

I'm restless in body and hardly sit still. I can scarcely watch the length of a TV show, let alone a film. I put The Brown Bunny in front of my eyes, and things changed.

There is a grace in that film that transcends my mostly disappointed response to nearly every film I see. Of course there are exceptions, but disappointment prevails.

The pace. The pace of this film, SINGS, SINGS to me. I was madly touched by what you chose to require of the viewer. How we're expected to FIND the meaning and beauty in unfurling highways, sipped coffees, awaited door answerings, unfocused facial close-ups... how we're presented with choices and respected enough to be called upon. Nourished by finding our own opinions.

The sounds... oh Vincent, Vincent, Vincent... the audio. The soundtrack that's (seemingly) more about the recordings of car doors closing, arms being pushed inside shirtsleeves, mouths coming together, dialogue being whispered, motorcycles buzzing, food being chewed, than about crescendos and sweeping wind instruments. And that the songs you DID choose for it, have alloted time and space, like they've their own scene. Like they MATTER and are not to be regarded as background. Even how low (volume-wise) some of the lines are mixed... it's as if the movie has a secret it's almost completely keeping.

The pace, the sound and the soothing color palate, served as a lullaby for my guts. Stilled my often agitated spirit and I SAT. I STAYED. I watched your gentle hands caress a woman's face, hold a coke bottle and touch a kitten's paw (so soothed by the tenderness with which you touched the cat and got licked by the puppies, I rewound and watched it twice) and felt SAFE. Felt carried. By the time your cock made its debut, I wasn't even anxious. I'd forgotten the controversy and was simply swept into the body of work.

I feel calmed by The Brown Bunny's existence. Grateful for its effect on me. Thank you Vincent, for this surprise.

~Italia

List

(lovely, lovely, lovely, lovellllyyyy)

I'm not trying to fucking be cute.  It's just that... when it hurts, I want to get it on the outside of me.  This is the grocery list I made up a couple of days ago.  It's scary to put this shit on public forum, but I'm attempting to be brave about it...

cream
sunflower seed butter
a gun to shoot myself with
broken glass on which to lay
a balloon to pop
explosions

It is, actually, funny to read it now.  Perhaps the next time I desire to make such a list, I should, remembering how funny it will be, later.

Until the End of Time

I'm fucking moving home.  

I went away from Los Angeles because my heart told me to.  To my utter dismay, my heart pointed me in the direction of Las Vegas.  I drove, kind of blindly, just listening... listening... and it was perfect.  

Vegas was perfect.  Every encounter I've had, has been righter than right.  The wind has blown a calm at my heart and elegantly... gently... dusted out crevasses.  Blown free bits of debris that were clogging the spaces that needed flow.  

The desert is quiet.  The desert is still.  I has been home to my needs and I feel Divinely blessed for the opportunity.  And for the strength and fortitude to get in my car and drive it here, to a place I thought I'd never see the inside of, again.

And then I visited... Los Angeles...  And it felt alive.  And it felt like crashing waves of hope and crackling, buzzing energy.  New blooms and the spark of possibility.  Ready... set... GO!  I didn't fucking expect it...  So I pack, get behind my wheel and point in a new direction now.  Southbound baby... southbound...

Horny!

Yahoo news:

This undated photo provided by the Center of Natural Sciences in Prato, Italy, Wednesday, June 11, 2008, shows a deer with a single horn in the center of its head. The one-year-old Roe Deer - nicknamed 'Unicorn'' - was born in captivity in the research center's park in the Tuscan town of Prato, near Florence, Gilberto Tozzi, director of the Center of Natural Sciences, said. He is believed to have been born with a genetic flaw; his twin has two horns.

Rock, Paper, Scissors- Extreme Death Match

One of Eric's best friends, is in the Peace Corps.  I stole this picture off his Facebook account.  I imagine it's a pic of one of their tender little kitchen setups.  He's most often in Kyrgyzstan (I'm not even sure how to say this word) and has been traveling for years, at this point.  

He's the cutest boy and so, totally curious.  He's really an oddball, so there's nothing I can do or say that's too peculiar for him.  Like when Eric's sister got married, we kind of just hung out on a chaise lounge together and said things like "what would you do if you had three days to live?"  "Who have you kissed in your life who you think of most?"  Anyhow... when Eric kind of didn't seem very interested in me, it was nice to have this cool person, to talk about bizarre things with.  Especially at the wedding of my dude's younger sister.  Weddings always bring out the strange and rebellious, in me.

One of my newest, favoritest Family Guy quotes- 
Peter: Yeah, uh, my daughter is looking for a car that goes with her personality.
Stewie: Yes, are the new bulimic, cutting mobiles in yet?

(This pic is not for this recipe.  It's just a cute pic of a wrap.)

Zesty Turkey Wrap

Ingredients
2/3 cup finely chopped cooked turkey
1/8 cup sliced green onion
1/8 cup finely chopped sun-dried tomato
1/4 cup prepared ranch salad dressing
salt and pepper
lettuce leaves
2 flour tortillas (7-inch diameter)

Directions

• Mix together the turkey, onions, tomatoes, dressing, and salt and pepper to taste.
  
• Place lettuce leaves toward one edge of each tortilla.
  
• Divide turkey salad evenly among tortillas.
  
• Spread turkey salad over lettuce.
  
• Motha fukin' roll that shit up and enjoy!  Hottt damn!  (This instruction was modified by yours truly.  I still think the directions apply.)

Visas in my name

I've never been hungry to travel.  I've always been busy traversing the pitfalls of my mind, in order to fix all the broken.  For a bit now, I feel like I'm quite fixed.  I have so much ROOM these days.  For a few days now... for months... maybe even a couple of years.  I'm not hungry for Europe.  Too exotic.  But I've been craving lately, the crackling, baking, soothing, smoothing nature of desert monuments and wonders.  The Grand Canyon... and just yesterday I thought of Mount Rushmore.  Perhaps Hula and I will take a trip.  These destinations, though cliche in American Culture, are pretty marvelous, no?

Amazing trivia:

True or False?

There will be more great faces, added to the monument.

False! 

Though there have been rumors. One such rumor was that they were going to add Elvis Presley's face to the monument.  That answer also is "No".

I fly like paper, get high like planes...

My mom's favorite flower was a tulip.  When she first died, I didn't want to so much as look at one.  I like them now.  Maybe one day I'll love them.

It never stops being confusing- the death.  Her death.  You never think about death in this manner (or at least I didn't) until it happens in your life.  It's as surreal as surreal as surreal gets.  Most of the time, I hate it.  Some of the time... when I feel like her spirit is alive and protecting me, it feels like the biggest blessing imaginable.  I feel like she's my angel.  Love and white and pure.

The most confusing factor is where is she?  WHERE IS SHE?  I still can't entirely process that no matter what phone I use, or what number I might call or where I could drive in a car or fly in a plane or the volume with which I could scream, she will never ever, ever hear me.  There's nowhere she is.  She just isn't.  That, to me, is the most confusing part.  That she isn't.  She was, and now she's not.  She was a body that I could touch and hug and argue with and say sweet things to and a soul which felt and emanated happy and angry and now she's not walking around and now that soul... it's...?

Sometimes in my head, I yell.  I yell, yell, yell.  It's weakening to imagine her ears never being reached.  Sometimes I just want to touch her arms and be hugged by her.  She always smelled pretty.  She always felt squishy and good.  Mom... I miss you.  I like that I feel good when I think of you.

Encouragement

I have tattoos.  A bunch, by most standards.  I love them.  I love them deeply and dearly.  Each and every needle-stroke (okay, the one I got at 18 is corny, but those after, are the ones to which I'm referring) is part of an artistic plan that my tattoo artist and I, devised.  I adore how they look, how they make me look and how I feel with them covering me.

But I still feel insecure sometimes.  I feel insecure that people will think I'm harsh, unapproachable, aggressive.  I post pictures of Kat Von D, because she inspires me.

Kat (and if you watch L.A. Ink, you'll know what I mean) is so tender.  She's ravishing, she wears red lipstick almost every day, she dresses incredibly sexily, she's unbelievably talented and she's positively covered in tattoos.  When I feel like people might be afraid of me and I feel like I'm shrinking away from the things I love, in order to be smaller and more approachable, I think of Kat.  I think of Pixie.  I think of Hannah and Kim.  These women who are far more tattooed than I am, and who seemingly embrace their fire.  I aspire to be so ferociously present.  So ferociously me.

Pile-O-Fun

I got a job in floor sales, at the brand new Calvin Klein store, at The Forum Shops, in Caesars Palace.  I don't know why, but I'm fucking stoked.  It doesn't make a pile of sense.  It's not prestigious or all that glam.  It's just fucking F-U-N.  

I like having somewhere to go... to put on makeup for... something to be a part of.  A cog in a unit.  A part of a gang.  It excites me.  It give me a reason.  Not a reason for anything dramatic like... a reason to exist.  Just a reason.  Something to put on eyeliner for.  Somewhere to be productive.  To connect with people and run around in cute shoes.  

The store isn't open yet, so every day is slicing boxes, steaming clothes, hanging up dresses... knitting together a beginning.  Being part of something at inception.  

I'm pleased.  

No matter how it reads in general, in me, it reads like flowing water.

I'm Officially Hot for Keith Olbermann

According to Wiki:

Keith Olbermann (born January 27, 1959) is an American news anchor, commentator, and radio sportscaster. He currently hosts Countdown with Keith Olbermann on MSNBC, an hour-long nightly newscast of five selected stories with commentary by Olbermann and guests. Starting with the 2007 NFL season, Olbermann also serves as co-host of NBC's Football Night in America with Bob Costas.

I awaken and put on MSNBC.  Let it run all day long.  I'm not in the mood for it EVERY day, but most, I crave it.  Overall, it's a great osmosis-style way, to learn about what's going on with the planet.  I seldom, if ever, read news.  The only news I'm hungry for, is celebrity gossip.  And I devour it with the appetite of a lumber jack.

MSNBC is fantastic because it reports on everything happening with (mostly democratic) politics, but is heavily peppered with general ongoings (global disasters, crime, etc.).  Keith Olbermann has his own show about the day's most notable events, but delivers it with hilarity and ribbing, uncharacteristic to the channel.  He even did a large portion of one broadcast, as Mr. Burns.  An incredible impersonation, at that.

I think I want to make out with his smart, sexy-older-man face.

A bouquet we made in mom's honor.  Everyone from the Labbate family brought a flower from their garden, and added it to the flowers I got.

Mother's Day was pronounced. Oh my. More so than any other Mother's Day of my life, nach. I had my beautiful new family over and we had omelets and fruit. Cookies and chocolate. It was sweet to have their love in my home. First hosting I've done, of this nature, since I've lived here. I was so grateful to have the interaction. Everyone seemed to have a good time and love was transferred.


After they went home, the silly "holiday" pressed on my chest.  I kept trying to recognize that it's just a made up date, but it didn't work so well.  You know... I'm 100% sure this is how it's supposed to be and feel.  I know this time in my life is precisely the time I'm supposed to be without my mother.  I'm 100% sure she was ready to go and this all happened in conjunction by the divine beauty of The Universe's plan.  I don't want anything to be different.  I just wanted to say- yesterday was heavier than usual and I'm glad it came and went.

This is my new family.  They are unbelievably loving and full of light and hope.  I'm so blessed to have them in my world.  So blessed that I work for them all... that I work in their lives as well as they work in mine.  Thank you God and Universe, for filling me with all of the right and extracting all of the wrong.  I hope, every day, I've living up to my potential.

Love,

Italia

I Want You To Hit Me Blah Blah Blah Blah

My day started, today, at 3am.  I don't know... I went to sleep at a reasonable hour (midnight or so) but was restless after just a bit.  Usually I wait it out... toss in bed and sleep befalls me soon.  Today was different for some reason.  I'm compelled to stand... to move... to take action- physically.  It can be exhausting, but fighting it only furthers frustration.

Fight Club plays on HBO right now.  I go to HBO on Demand and watch it over and over and over.  I must have seen it six full times and three-four partial times, since it has been available.  When Ed Norton has desperate insomnia... it's so fucking realistic.  I know Chuck Palahniuk must have, at some point, been completely sleepless.  David Fincher, too.  Everyone involved, perhaps.  The depiction of the insomniac is bang on.  As bang as on gets.  Never fully asleep nor awake.

Still, it's okay.  I like the hours of twilight.  Things seem more possible and dream-like when the sun has not yet risen, but it's late enough for the majority of people to be sleeping.  It feels like you're in a untapped realm.  One in which few are conscious and somehow answers to secrets, lay.  Shhh... quietly listen... fortunes come...

THE BEST ROSS FIND, EVER

$4.99.  There were like, three.  I bought one.  WHO is going to buy the other two?  Man... I think we should all be friends.

Gun Fun!

Kerpow.

Four hours, 45 minutes.

The pistol is based on a firearm from Elvis' collection of guns. It's a modified 357 Magnum (barrel slightly extended and finger grips added). The butterfly is a bullet and will be completed, along with added "smoke" in the Fall.

Kiss me, I'm explosive.

(Ps- if you click the pic, the motherfucker gets huge)

Eye Love The Decadence

Fur-reel, this description makes your mouth (eyes?) water, with desire, right?:

***
Uniquely formulated with a new biopolymer protein, Skin Caviar Luxe Eye Lift Cream uses a cross-linking technology and forms a continuous and smooth film, helping to firm, lift and restore skin's youthful appearance.

Skin Caviar Luxe Eye Lift Cream also contains Caviar Extracts that help firm and nourish, along with La Prairie's exclusive Cellular Complex that helps stimulate the skin's natural repair process, moisturizing and energizing with nutrients that encourage optimal functioning.

***

So does this pic, of Sean Avery, but that's a whole other subject.

I'll be frank- I didn't buy La Prairie's Skin Caviar. I got a sample of it, which was probably worth $50, as the little snack is $350 for 1.7 oz. I used as directed- a.m. + p.m., every day, and... well... it's rich, it's creamy, it's pretty-smelling and... it works like my Nivea Visage Q10 does. Meaning- it works nicely. But is "it works nicely" the way you want to describe a product that sets you back almost 1/2 a grand?

After one week (which I've read, can be long enough for some to see results) La Prairie Skin Caviar seemed as though it was doing the job of an excellent and long-lasting hydrating cream. Bottom line- I liked the stuff very much, but wouldn't do the necessary investing to find out if it was capable of more.

Full Phat- MAC Yogurt Shadow

Like a healthy snack for your eyelids, MAC Yogurt Shadow, is good food.

Yogurt is as matte as matte gets. Although MAC is well known for its outrageous and punchy shades, this one is subtle. However, it still has that pizazz, MAC ceaselessly embraces.

The name of this color, is actually what caught my attention. I heard a woman asking for it at the MAC counter, and immediately perked up. "Ooh.. what color is Yoooguuurt..." Upon seeing it, I bought it immediately.


I couldn't find a piccy of the exact shade, but it's basically a cross between this image and an eggshell. However, this'll get ya there- YAY!

The wear on Yogurt is long, as I find is the case with all MAC shadows (especially when applied over one of their lid Paints. I always have Bare Canvas on hand). This shade is great for every day use and gives a pretty, "wide-eyed, awake" look. Try a bite! It's delish!

Stay Glossy!

Fantastic Fantasy

Revlon Lash Fantasy came about when primers were burgeoning. There were some crazy thickeners on the scene, namely the kind that seemed like you were putting fluffy white dust on your lashes, before laying on the black stuff. Too scary and not just for those with allergies.

The Revlon primer is of great consistency. It's thicker and creamier than mascara, so you really feel like it's "priming" your lashes for something. Now there are two ways you can apply, for different effect (keep in mind, with either method, the primer will produce thicker lashes). One is to layer on the primer and immediately follow with mascara. This combines the two formulas (as the primer is still wet) and ends up making longer, straighter lashes, you can kind of "shape," as though you were using lash-mousse. Do I want 'em looking windswept? Pulled into points, like star eyes? More forward to create a fluttery eye, southern belle effect?

The other route is to apply the primer and let it dry. It takes about 2 minutes, so go brush your teeth, have a bite of bagel,
grab a phone call and then come back and apply mascara. The difference in this application is that after the primer dries, it curls your lashes up a bit, so you can skip the lash curler step (if you even do this- I actually don't)

and jump right into full-on glamourpuss.


In summary- Revlon Lash Fantasy is an effective, versatile mascara. It does the trick of both shaping and thickening lashes and is a product that totally enhances my own makeup routine. Buy it and try it! (Available pretty much everywhere and runs about $8- $10 dollars.)

Stay Glossy!

Rosebud Salve-ation

I know... you've heard of the product. You may even own three pots at a time, as I do (bathroom, bedroom, purse). You may know its lip-slickness intimately and its perfectly balanced smell. However, you may not, in which case sisters, I've come to preach. Smith's Rosebud Salve is unbelievable.

The consistency is that of petroleum jelly (Vaseline), with the most subtle hint of pink color. It smells like the memory of a rose (completely non-offensive) and has almost no taste (which I prefer, as when I've something on my lips that's too tasty, I either lick it off or spend the whole day wanting chocolate mocha covered everything).

The beauty of a "salve" is that it's absolutely not just for lips. I use it on my cuticles, my knuckles, I dab it around my eyes at night, I tame my brows with it, rub it on my elbows... and it actually does what you want it to. It moistens and revivifies crispy skin. Of course, not immediately, but over several days of use, it really can hydrate dry spots.

(Ps- the formula is over 100 years old! So cool!)

Fave places to find the incredibly affordable potion (approx $6- $10):

Bigelow Chemists
DrugStore.com
Sephora
Anthropologie

Stay Glossy!

The Good Junk

I'm a huge fan of mascara. Sometimes I just buy tubes of it, so I can open a new package, when I feel like a "lift." It's so versatile, so face-changing, so mood-altering, so fun.

My favorite color is as black as black gets. If there was a color by any brand, entitled "Blacker Than Humanly Imaginable," I'd buy 3 tubes, on the spot.


Because I buy a variety of the magical goo, and love the varied results, I'm going to review some of my faves, along with other yummy face gunk. Hooray for gunk! Also, since I've just transplanted myself to the beautiful desert of Las Vegas (where you can become dry and crispy in no time) from the much moister air of L.A., I'll post some remedies and tinctures I'm using to keep myself well into the Lovely Zone.


My ode to glamour, in Haiku form:

Oh the Glamourous
We work hard to embrace you
Let's all stay glossy!

xo