Writing about the myriad of disjointed, unique interests that hit me
Voracious conversationalist, though often confused. Loves talking about movies and Vine compilations.
Twitter: Danny [email protected]
Bad Girls Deserve Flowers Too
Sometimes the girls are plucky, innocent, hysterical victis of chance and fate as they escape certain death. Although sometimes the girls aren't the heroes, and instead the very thing you ought to run from. Saucy, lovely, nasty, never afraid to get down and dirty for their desires, and most unwilling to let a good deed go unpunished. Fiona Goode from American Horror Story, Amanda from SAW, Nancy from The Craft . . . the list can just go on. All women with a little damage, and a lot of repressed issues, who wear them as proudly as Chanel coats and velvet matte lipsticks.
I Can't Get Over Midsommar
Countless times I've thought about writing a review for Midsommar since I first watched it, and countless times I talked myself out of it because . . . well, because either I had the thought at an inconvenient time or I figured I would be way too late to the party.
5 Twitter Photographers You'll Want To Electrify Your Aesthetic
I see there was some connection with my Twitter artists article (see here), so I decided that since I have so many like-minded devourers of Art . . . I would continue the trend by introducing you to some amazing contributors to Photo Twitter! These photographers can do it all: twist your perception, edge the darkest line of fantasy, swim along the brightest stream of light, and bend reality. All that, just in one photo? It's more likely than you think.
5 Artists on Twitter to Help You Forget Being Scarred By Your Trending Topics
January 3rd was a doozy on Twitter. I think I was stuck on the Big Three Horrors for . . . what must have been two and a half hours. It was one in the morning, I hadn't showered or eaten yet, and I wanted to sink into a pitch black well and never ascend again.
Happy Anniversary, Vocal (You Fickle Mistress)!
Three years ago, when I was still a bored young woman unwilling to get rid of Instagram, I saw an ad to become a paid freelance writer on a website called Vocal. Vocal was a place to write about whatever you could possibly want; get inspired, get busy, get some validation from other writers or casual readers on the internet. With a couple of weeks until the rise of 2018, I had been listlessly searching for something to change my luck around. Since my graduation in 2017 and subsequent smack in the face by the reality of millions of others just as desperate to find a good gig in life, I had been locked deep in a depressed haze. I couldn't seem to get myself out of the dense muck of incompetence and pessimistic anxiety to the point where I couldn’t ever see being happy with myself and what I was doing. Who I was becoming.
The Timeline Reset Festival: A Reunion Tour To Save The World
Do you have a favorite band that doesn't exist? A favorite artist that only headlined on some animators' storyboards? Hey, no need to be ashamed- I've got several beloved bands who only exist in the fictional world. I've been dabbling in escapism a hell of a lot more frequently than I think I've done since middle school (and no wonder with this spectacle of a year, right?) and I'm suddenly yearning for nostalgic rushes to buoy my mood. Looking back at old shows, musing on memories and wishes, to have done and seen more than I had before the world would no longer be there in the way it used to be.
A Playlist To Make The Bench Press Your Bitch
You're inhaling the mingled scents of oft-used air freshener, hastily swiped deodorant, and the musk of hard labor. You're tasting the first wave of salty sweat trickling from your temples to the edges of your mouth and wetting the corners of your lips. You're hearing grunts of exertion and whatever particular program is being presented by the one who holds the remote. You're about to grasp the handles just underneath the seat of the cycling machine and breathing in deep- but suddenly a little lightbulb moment happens and you remember the most important part of this workout session.
I like my hair. I do. That wasn't always the case though. The Hustle See, my dad is African-American- Philadelphia born and bred. My mom is Trinidadian- from San Fernando, specifically. You mix those two together and you . . . get a coily mess on the first child. More relaxed than my father's curls (and bigger), but definitely not the waves my mother's hair relaxed to in her adulthood. I can't tell you how perplexed I am every time I see photos of her as a baby with big ringlets that . . . she just seems to grow out of??? If there's one thing I haven't let go of, it's the envy I have over my mother's fast growing, healthy hair. Mine has never once reached those lengths, though it's my dear wish to make it happen one day.