A flower skin
That is almost a century of wasted, spent to believe that the evolution of gender lead the army of little men with their faces in wolf's head into a new world, where the automation of yesteryear would have their lives ruined by an overabundance of technology advanced to finally see that history repeats itself endlessly.
That is almost a century of wasted, spent to believe that the evolution of gender lead the army of little men with their faces in wolf's head into a new world, where the automation of yesteryear would have their lives ruined by an overabundance of technology advanced to finally see that history repeats itself endlessly.
Like fashion and politics, where simply to update old ideas brings great hope to the citizens, has certainly changed our lives by the benefits it has at present, but made us nostalgic look at these ideals of a bygone era in which we draw our inspiration and our models.
So when I have become aware of the extreme media coverage of the blog, I first raised an eyebrow, then two.
I thought long interest in it was.
Until then, this approach does not represent anything more to me than a need for awareness self-centered, resulting in a meaningless popularity fleeting, and that ends in indifference dripping, like that of those fed celebs scandals crashing on the glossy paper of our Magazines toilet.
Then I thought about, and I said that time deprived of poets in lack of "life" was not so far, but more importantly, not so different.
Mal de vivre, no money, lovesick and balance.
Literature, alcohol, philosophical, opium and syphilis, versus rock, cocaine, Kate Moss, Al Qaeda, depression and AIDS.
Nothing antonymic!
The cause: that damn need for recognition that we stick to the skin.
The consequences: a crowd of terrified people and anxious to lose sight of the avant-garde and the way to stand out, like the splash of ants that emanates from the land when you put your foot on their empire.
Therefore I tell you, we are the same pipers to the king's court, or the charlatans scrapers hope to agree on who once said: "We love you, what you are doing is fine, you have some something special, we want you!" .
It is true that a widely criticized Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir and others, lazy dreamers spending hours talking and philosophically dissect the workings of our world, but they have not paved the way for a modern society that falls back on sociology to understand what the people need to impose? Social networks and consumer outrageous bear the seal.
So probably a thick layer will laugh at the childish way in which I conducted the spinning of my ideas to this narrow conclusion, yes, indeed, existentialism is a humanism!
Born in the 80's, unfortunately I have not had the pleasure of knowing the emergence of rock, and his best years. Apart from my grandfather and David Aaronson, I have known no man headed to the elegance.
I never wore roller skates to go dancing, John Travolta has made a place in me in the picture Allo Maman ici bébé, not in his feverish white suit_ although I admit I was shocked by its splendid lame in Grease alongside Olivia Newton John (laughs).
I wept before La boom in 12 years, and I cried almost ten years later before the tektonik; Lorie bitterly when it is set!
I received an education mixed with old and new. The old man who was a little afraid sometimes "Wendy, you're a woman, thou must take care of the man you love to keep him, freedom in bed and originality on his plate", says my grandparents. Then something new a little messy. A spoonful of Cindy Lauper followed by a dash of feminism provided by a mother cheated and divorced in the 90s, who claimed to prefer to have a dog or a gay friend than a man, blowing his nose that was all his fault.
Anyway, the middle episodes of Little House on the Prairie during the lunch break, re-runs of Dallas on saturday afternoon (which awoke in me the desire to become a mad cowboy), and questions like "would succeed I one day reproduce the choreography of Michael Jackson to perfection?", I thought he was either praying or making war, or desert. And although I have not wandered through the maze of a rebel Woodstock, I started to yell. As much as I could. As often as he had. For all, sometimes for nothing. So I ended up not knowing why. I got into trouble, I was sorry I felt then as I rock shit everyone was better like that!
I understand that people do not care about that you can torture your mind the night instead of sleep, that you laugh when you want to cry, vomit you anxiety about the future, they ' fuck in, besides everyone cares.
Hula, calm down! Do not fall into pessimism! I can assure you that your eyes will not read a universe depressive legs!
Today, Wendy is going very well, she is happy and always curious as to its 10 years!
I also wish you a pleasant walk in this world mixed with old values, news, nostalgia, movies, fashion, music, humor, anecdotes and love. I hope you will find things that you look like or who simply will allow you to discover more as you are!
Elegance, simplicity, smile and love. Be fair. Be YOU!
Wendy Marcel for Slogan
Wendy Marcel for Slogan
