February 4, 2009
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

mills:

billydalto:

Mirando - Ratatat

This track was unanimously voted the song of the evening in Ills Manor, where Mills and I are beginning another insane Saturday night. As usual, Bayou and Five were underwhelmed by the music selection but unwilling to offer any suggestions.

Will found this; I like it.

This song got me through the bitter end of my run through Fryman Canyon this (let’s just say)morning.

I really enjoyed the incessant beats - as they piloted my stride - and I had it so loud that I’m sure it offended many people on the trail; though I was zipping by them so fast that they probably didn’t know what had just happened. 

Mwah ha ha ha.

When I exercise, or do anything outside my apartment for that matter, I try to wear as much Leah or Decatur as possible so that if anyone comments, or asks where I got some cute dud, I can tell them about the store.  It’s selfless, I know, but someone has to do it.  

Also: I just like the ish.

January 19, 2009
xs&os. Love is not loveWhen it is mingled with regards that standAloof from the entire point. (1.1.241) This emotion “love” has become strangely prevalent in my life to date - and it’s only interesting now, because I am, and have been, single for the longest time in 7 years. I’ve always found myself an easy love-er.  Not in the slutty, floozie sense (though I’ve been called a floozie before, and it’s always a bit awkward when the person who’s calling you something you’re not, is just that), but rather in the sense that I find all sorts of reasons to “attach” myself to people: Oh, we drink the same coffee.  Oh, we enjoy a similar bread.  Oh, we both use gas in our cars.   I have, although, had trouble thinking I was worth loving.  Until recently. A friend I met only a few months ago recently began to let me know just how much I was loved by him, and our other friend, and other random out-skirts of friends and friends of friends of friends.  I began to think that we: 1. Certainly have different definitions of love 2. Were talking about someone else and/or 3. Oh eff it, I’m being cynical and jaded - maybe someone can love me. For me. I must admit - this feeling of being loved/appreciated/enjoyed by others certainly makes you more productive.  Today I re-merchandised the entire store (and then forgot to take a new picture).  I emailed people.  I figured out this weird situation (or at least, I delegated the figuring-out to my roommate).  So there.  Maybe love is actually really love, Billy.

xs&os.

Love is not love
When it is mingled with regards that stand
Aloof from the entire point. (1.1.241)

This emotion “love” has become strangely prevalent in my life to date - and it’s only interesting now, because I am, and have been, single for the longest time in 7 years.

I’ve always found myself an easy love-er.  Not in the slutty, floozie sense (though I’ve been called a floozie before, and it’s always a bit awkward when the person who’s calling you something you’re not, is just that), but rather in the sense that I find all sorts of reasons to “attach” myself to people:

Oh, we drink the same coffee.  Oh, we enjoy a similar bread.  Oh, we both use gas in our cars.  

I have, although, had trouble thinking I was worth loving.  Until recently.

me&boys

A friend I met only a few months ago recently began to let me know just how much I was loved by him, and our other friend, and other random out-skirts of friends and friends of friends of friends.  I began to think that we: 1. Certainly have different definitions of love 2. Were talking about someone else and/or 3. Oh eff it, I’m being cynical and jaded - maybe someone can love me. For me.

I must admit - this feeling of being loved/appreciated/enjoyed by others certainly makes you more productive.  Today I re-merchandised the entire store (and then forgot to take a new picture).  I emailed people.  I figured out this weird situation (or at least, I delegated the figuring-out to my roommate). 

So there.  Maybe love is actually really love, Billy.

January 8, 2009
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Matt & Kim are totally my new fave.  Their music makes me instantly, and without regret, happy.  The roaring drum beats make me pound my steering wheel like an idiot monkey.

January 2, 2009
My sister, Leah, is my best friend.  We have been nearly inseparable since my birth almost 27 years ago.  Not going more than 5 months (that I can count) without seeing each other (thanks to my mother, jaunts to Hong Kong and Italy on Mardi Gras breaks were a normal, if not expected feat), she and I are a type of soul-mate that is extremely rare, because we also share the same mother and father.   We are so much on the same wavelength, that when a new relationship/friend/partner comes along, if he/she doesn’t meet _______(y-o-u-f-i-l-l-i-n-t-h-e-b-l-a-n-k) requirements…it’s bound to be doomed. Cliche for the day: I love her more than words can express. Gosh, I hope she loves me back… :P

My sister, Leah, is my best friend.  We have been nearly inseparable since my birth almost 27 years ago.  Not going more than 5 months (that I can count) without seeing each other (thanks to my mother, jaunts to Hong Kong and Italy on Mardi Gras breaks were a normal, if not expected feat), she and I are a type of soul-mate that is extremely rare, because we also share the same mother and father.  

We are so much on the same wavelength, that when a new relationship/friend/partner comes along, if he/she doesn’t meet _______(y-o-u-f-i-l-l-i-n-t-h-e-b-l-a-n-k) requirements…it’s bound to be doomed.

Cliche for the day: I love her more than words can express.

Gosh, I hope she loves me back… :P
December 9, 2008
I woke up the other morning well slept. For some (myself included) this is an oxymoron.   I had to take a picture of my beautiful sun-through-the-tree-lines-kissed sheets if only to document that a good nights sleep was still in my capacity.   I should have known the following 72 hours was going to be worth it all. I got things accomplished.  I dressed cute in all my DecaturLA duds.  I was maternal.  I smooched a boy I’ve wanted to smooch for a minute.  I had a real few days - that felt like an eternity and a millisecond all at once.  It was masterful.  It was beautiful.  I’ve been revived.  For a few.

I woke up the other morning well slept.

For some (myself included) this is an oxymoron.  

I had to take a picture of my beautiful sun-through-the-tree-lines-kissed sheets if only to document that a good nights sleep was still in my capacity.  

I should have known the following 72 hours was going to be worth it all.

I got things accomplished.  I dressed cute in all my DecaturLA duds.  I was maternal.  I smooched a boy I’ve wanted to smooch for a minute.  I had a real few days - that felt like an eternity and a millisecond all at once.  It was masterful.  It was beautiful.  I’ve been revived.  For a few.

December 4, 2008
I spent the better part of my morning and early afternoon working on Decatur stuff.  This is the Pop-Up-Shoppe Flyer I came up with this afternoon at the store.  Times are tough, I’m not gonna lie. I get paid in shoes. Fortunately, they’re REALLY CUTE shoes.

I spent the better part of my morning and early afternoon working on Decatur stuff.  This is the Pop-Up-Shoppe Flyer I came up with this afternoon at the store.  Times are tough, I’m not gonna lie.

I get paid in shoes.

Fortunately, they’re REALLY CUTE shoes.

November 30, 2008
For days I’ve been rattling through funny, kitchy, even ‘catchy’ phrases in my mind for a good Christmas card insert.  I’ve got the photo already (I’m narcissistic, what on earth do you expect?!), I just can’t think of a cute thing to put on the inside of the card. “Let’s get wrapped up in this ‘web’ together” “Had fun getting tangled in all this ‘web’ with you” …I suppose I’m going with a “web” theme here (obvi), cause I’ve become much more web-savvy in the past year…or at least, that’s what I’ll tell ‘ya. help.

For days I’ve been rattling through funny, kitchy, even ‘catchy’ phrases in my mind for a good Christmas card insert.  I’ve got the photo already (I’m narcissistic, what on earth do you expect?!), I just can’t think of a cute thing to put on the inside of the card.

“Let’s get wrapped up in this ‘web’ together”

“Had fun getting tangled in all this ‘web’ with you”

…I suppose I’m going with a “web” theme here (obvi), cause I’ve become much more web-savvy in the past year…or at least, that’s what I’ll tell ‘ya.

help.

November 26, 2008
Of Banksy, I am: a.  Smitten b.  Fascinated c.  Jealous d.  All of the above. When I found this picture while Googling “rain new orleans” last night (and then writing this great blog about it that didn’t save), I fell even more in love with the artist.  Who knew Banksy had made it to NOLA?  I discovered his work through a “coffee table” book at my sister, Allison’s house a few years ago.  I was in college, or just out, and I sort of praised this Banksy kid for his insanely creative, anit-man, thought-provoking works of graffiti art all around London and the likes.  He’s one of my “invites” to dinner…along with Mohammed Ali and Vincent VanGogh. It’s raining here in LA - which is such a rarity that when it does rain, it’s like a phenomenon. Rain in LA reminds you that you do actually live in some sort of reality. I love the sound of rain.  There might be nothing better (sour jelly belly’s aside) than falling asleep to the rain outside your window…in a place you want to call home. There’s this memory I have that’s probably the most curious of all my childhood memories - because I wasn’t actually there, alive even, for the scene.  It’s one of those stories that’s been told so many times since I was a child, that it’s as though it’s been wax-sealed into my cognitive memory reality. My mom probably tells it best, but I’ll try: It was a rainy summer morning in New Orleans, my dad and the family (then Allison, Leah, Mac & Mom) had just returned from church, three doubtful, solemn kids in all.  When, all of a sudden, my dad leaps out of the car like some swift superhero in his suit and dress shoes and begins reenacting Gene Kelly’s one-take-scene from Singing In The Rain.  The kids are enthralled.  My mom falls in love with my dad all over again.  It’s a spectacle that lives in exaltation. I think of this every time it rains.

Of Banksy, I am:

a.  Smitten

b.  Fascinated

c.  Jealous

d.  All of the above.

When I found this picture while Googling “rain new orleans” last night (and then writing this great blog about it that didn’t save), I fell even more in love with the artist.  Who knew Banksy had made it to NOLA?  I discovered his work through a “coffee table” book at my sister, Allison’s house a few years ago.  I was in college, or just out, and I sort of praised this Banksy kid for his insanely creative, anit-man, thought-provoking works of graffiti art all around London and the likes.  He’s one of my “invites” to dinner…along with Mohammed Ali and Vincent VanGogh.

It’s raining here in LA - which is such a rarity that when it does rain, it’s like a phenomenon. Rain in LA reminds you that you do actually live in some sort of reality.

I love the sound of rain.  There might be nothing better (sour jelly belly’s aside) than falling asleep to the rain outside your window…in a place you want to call home.

There’s this memory I have that’s probably the most curious of all my childhood memories - because I wasn’t actually there, alive even, for the scene.  It’s one of those stories that’s been told so many times since I was a child, that it’s as though it’s been wax-sealed into my cognitive memory reality. My mom probably tells it best, but I’ll try: It was a rainy summer morning in New Orleans, my dad and the family (then Allison, Leah, Mac & Mom) had just returned from church, three doubtful, solemn kids in all.  When, all of a sudden, my dad leaps out of the car like some swift superhero in his suit and dress shoes and begins reenacting Gene Kelly’s one-take-scene from Singing In The Rain.  The kids are enthralled.  My mom falls in love with my dad all over again.  It’s a spectacle that lives in exaltation.

I think of this every time it rains.

November 25, 2008

This was our first official Photo shoot with the amazingly talented Eric LaCour.  He’s from Louisiana, y’all…and he’s real good.

We had loads of fun, and all the girls: Heather, Kaylen & Katie, were crazy talented.  The shots were unreal (thanks to E) and we’ve had so much fun using them and keeping up with our girls.

Oh, and the stdk is “Undeclared” by the Dodos.

xoxo

Layer, layer, layer’s are not just for onions anymore.  With these Bijoutierenecklaces, bracelets, earrings and charms YOU decide just how much you want to reveal.  I absolutely love the dainty-ness of these designs and even more so, I really enjoy the owners/designers.  Donna Guidry, a fellow New Orleanian, is not only a beautiful woman, she’s also an extremely talented, kind, and creative spirit. There are times that I miss home.  A lot.  But meeting new people out here all the time makes this place feel a little more like ‘home’ every day. 

Layer, layer, layer’s are not just for onions anymore.  With these Bijoutierenecklaces, bracelets, earrings and charms YOU decide just how much you want to reveal.  I absolutely love the dainty-ness of these designs and even more so, I really enjoy the owners/designers.  Donna Guidry, a fellow New Orleanian, is not only a beautiful woman, she’s also an extremely talented, kind, and creative spirit.

There are times that I miss home.  A lot.  But meeting new people out here all the time makes this place feel a little more like ‘home’ every day.