Saturday

So many of you might be wondering, "Hey Kelsey, why do you seem so anti-blog?" Maybe (probably) you don't even ask that question, seeing as I am the most overtly anti-internet of the bunch. Maybe you even connect the dots and realize that part of it is because I prefer tangible objects over things that exist in the netherworld of the "virtual." (Obviously physical objects are easier to deal with when you're achingly cerebral and spent most of your childhood contemplating, to not ostensible conclusion, the nature of "that which we cannot see." Duh.) Maybe you come to the latest, greatest conclusion, which is that I have to write so often that rarely do I want to do that in whatever time I have left over. Support the publishing industry, my friends. Buy books and magazines!

"But hey, Kelsey, if you're so anti that you're going on a self-centered rant about the pointlessness of blogging, why are you signed into the Communal Closet right now?"

Well that's easier, kid: I'm fucking BORED.

I've been holed up in this giant, temporary home of mine for two days with a cold that makes me feel like the little plumbers that work in my nasal cavity burst a pipe. I've watched six episodes of Big Love (in a row), filled an entire garbage can with damp tissues, drank a whole carton of orange juice and bought a lot of unnecessary things on ebay, including a turban (East Hampton here I come!). In short, I've done absolutely nothing. All of a sudden I'm craving a nice warm meal and a big class of Merlot, but I hesitate to call anyone lest I push myself back into the hell that was yesterday (and no, I don't think I'm being overly dramatic).

Thus I have decided to write this little post to save myself from boredom-induced suicide and to avoid my next activity of choice, which is drawing (I approach this with trepidation but without talent.)

RANDOM THOUGHTS

Damn, I know I just got a turban, but I really want one of those satin Prada ones. Who ever thought turbans would be hip again?

Good deed that requires little-to-no effort: when a penny falls out of your purse, leave it on the ground. Usually I like to turn the heads side up because that's where the real luck comes from.

Is anyone else fascinated by the virgin leitmotif in horror films? In virtually all horror movies, virgins are the only ones who are immune to the killing abilities of the vampires or werewolves or whatever the evil being happens to be and, consequently, the only ones who can battle the evil force. Either that or they are the ones most sought after. What does this say about humans? Why are we so fixated on virginity and its natural equivalent, purity? It's not that we like that, it seems, but rather we like to watch it be destroyed, either symbolically or really. Is this part of our guilt at being born so impure ourselves or (as if it has to be one or the other) the ubiquitous desire to watch things be destroyed? This has been on my mind for a while.

Everyone keep their eyes out for promotional tickets for the one-woman show adapted from Joan Didion's book The Year of Magical Thinking, starring Vanessa Redgrave. We have to support badass women everywhere.

If you had to move out of the country, where would you move?

How do we feel about Selma Blair's new haircut? Balenciaga's metal pants? The model BMI controversy? Electric blue nailpolish (saw some and contemplated getting it earlier. Where you ask? Ricky's. Where else?)

Everyone check out the stores and cute restaurants and what is soon to be my street, East 9th Street. Gila and Marisa took a lil field trip today and, hopefully, will update you on their finds.

If you could be made into anything on the MTV show "Made", what would it be? I would want to be either a skateboarder or a drummer, probably the latter.

Upcoming cultural events: seeing Grey Gardens (finally!), a modern dance adaptation of Edward Scissorhands at BAM (how fucking AWESOME?!?!?) and hopefully Zodiac and Pan's Labyrinth (after many a bong rip). Concerts include: Bloc Party and LCD Soundsystem (everyone check them out on iTunes then buy yourself a ticket. It's at Webster Hall. Enough said.) I just saw this terrifying German/Austrian flick called Funny Games, which I would recommend, and rewatched the Bob Dylan documentary as well as Training Day, where Ethan Hawke looks considerably less fuck-worthy than he did circa-Reality Bites. Eh, what are you going to do? We all grow old sometime. Well, everyone but Marisa and I, that is.

Catchphrase kicks ass. We have to play celebrity and Apples to Apples. The BOMB.

Finally, I leave you with a quote from the ever-wise Michelle Pfeiffer, who looked sizzling in Scarface and, as a result, has become my new style icon:

"I used to smoke a pack a day but now I don't smoke at all. I will never consider myself a non-smoker because I always find smokers the most interesting people at the table."

Well said, girl.