alexander hamilton dress / 87.

i originally bought this ridiculous blue stretch velvet because of dance and i wanted to make a leotard or tights or something. but i always thought of the song and not the fabric and i was watching alot of ken burn's documentaries on the founding of new york, and alexander hamilton sort of blew my mind. you know, dude was brilliant and he came from absolutely nothing. he was born in the Caribbean high-jacked it to American and layed out the plan. and that's cool. and he's sexy, in his founding father kind of way.

but you know, there's always brigitte bardot. her and nancy sinatra are the aces in the hole. at all times, if i dont think about what elvis would do, i think about what bardot would do. but i have a super feeling that bardot's sort of a nut and i wouldnt want to be in her head, so her brain reference mostly applies to sexiness. and bardot in godard's contempt was spot on.

 so that was the idea. in the end i made a blue velvet dress with a jabot and pearl buttons on the mid sleeves. thanks, alexander hamilton for liking money and being so cool.

it's all over now, baby blue.

mostly, i could list all the rotten things that have happened so far this year but even when i think about it, even when i read the journal i keep day to day to day, it seems so impossible. it seems like i got something wrong. like i must be asleep or watching some movie some realist made in some other place when the world was still dark and the ideas we carried of ourselves were still dark and nothing had a true place or even wanted it.

for the past two months i have found myself in the same somber dream i lived in seven years ago, when everything was just unrecognizable where the whole world felt so fragile and unloved. now i just cannot eat or sleep. now i just feel nauseous and confused and i try to put on the face but it becomes so much harder as the days pass into one another.

my grandmother, who has been dying since the day she was born, has been in icu since last week and she is not well. her hands and feet are purple because her blood pressure is so low the blood cannot circulate and when it does she is in excruciating pain. my family is staying at my parent’s house now and when ever there is such tragedy, the worst stories of suffering are heard. stories you hear when sitting in the hospital cafeteria, when just the cracks in voices are enough to make your heart break. and you wonder how people do it. how there is all of this suffering, how even now it seems like love is falling farther into sickness and it appears impossible to differentiate pain from the day to day.

often i dont know what i find myself doing. its like every moment is of itself, its like just getting through these parts and then forgetting them or trying to, but seeing how they make you so stuffed with despair, you cant even eat or sleep, and seeing your friends and their youth are the only parts of the world that make you forget. for the past few years, aside from the people i love, the only beauty i have found is in nature and aesthetic. even now it is difficult to want to move past and i try to figure out how and it all just collapses, the day just crumbles and at night its like i lost another one. i cannot figure out which is worse.