graphic novels and designer toys/dolls
preferably not idiots.
It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.
"You can probably open up a department store with the amount of makeup you have" is what my mom always says to me.
Glittery, sparkly, shiny cravings from a dramatic gal with a keen eye for glamour - trashy glamour et al.
Like waking up sedated from an untroubled and assuaging murmur of an afternoon nap, seduced by the mild whispers of tony&tina's COSMIC glitters, beckoning me to dust each radiating glimmer in all its scintillating winks upon my eyelids. A true star-eyed child, bursting of multi-prismatic light energy in a secluded multi-dimensional galaxy of eleven dimensions. But nevertheless, she is only a glint in the entire universe. A glint, however, that won't hesitate to incinerate you with her iridescent purple and green ray gun that shoots flaring, crimson-red lasers out of the tip of a DiorShow mascara wand. Now imagine an unimaginably doted ray gun that's embellished with absinthe-green rhinestones and Tish&Snooky's faux eyelashes pointed straight at you:
Run, bitch, run.
Ghost World, Breakfast on Pluto, Pulp Fiction, The Hours, My Sassy Girl, Ichi the Killer, Donnie Darko, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Matrix trilogy, The Fifth Element, The Moulin Rouge, Hayao Miyazaki movies.
and weed and beer?
the bell jar / etc.
devious artists with perverse fixations
just kidding
Peter Pan