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Rachel R. White is a journalist/essayist/internet personist. This is the headspace.
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Rachel Rabbit White
Cats

Cats are pieces of your bed, fluffy bits of pillow. They are your mother, or something… watching over you while curled on your chest. And then they attack.

photo of my bedside table

photo of my bedside table

My Life.

My Life.

(Source: lottaluna)

fuckyeahcourtneylove:

promorhell:

At the March 1995 Oscars, Courtney Love grabbed Quentin Tarantino‘s Oscar award for Pulp Fiction,  and threatened to hit journalist Lynn Hirschberg with it. Hirschberg had previously written an article for Vanity Fair claiming Love used heroin while pregnant.

“I’m picking up the Oscar, and they’re really heavy, because they’re lead with gold over it, you could totally brain somebody. I’m like, ‘Who do you hate in this room?’ All of a sudden, this little voice [Lynn Hirschberg, author of the infamous Vanity Fair article] peeps up ‘You don’t like me.’ 
And she bolted and she hid under Madonna and Ellen Barkin and Jodie Foster’s table, and they were kicking her under the table. Jodie Foster was smoking cigars and putting them out on her and screaming, ‘Face the music, bitch!’
Had I punched her, they’d just say, ‘There goes Courtney again.’ But I kept my poise.”
1995.

When Sources Don’t Disappear 

fuckyeahcourtneylove:

promorhell:

At the March 1995 Oscars, Courtney Love grabbed Quentin Tarantino‘s Oscar award for Pulp Fiction,  and threatened to hit journalist Lynn Hirschberg with it. Hirschberg had previously written an article for Vanity Fair claiming Love used heroin while pregnant.

“I’m picking up the Oscar, and they’re really heavy, because they’re lead with gold over it, you could totally brain somebody. I’m like, ‘Who do you hate in this room?’ All of a sudden, this little voice [Lynn Hirschberg, author of the infamous Vanity Fair article] peeps up ‘You don’t like me.’ 

And she bolted and she hid under Madonna and Ellen Barkin and Jodie Foster’s table, and they were kicking her under the table. Jodie Foster was smoking cigars and putting them out on her and screaming, ‘Face the music, bitch!’

Had I punched her, they’d just say, ‘There goes Courtney again.’ But I kept my poise.”

1995.

When Sources Don’t Disappear 

(Source: learningtheblues)

my husband makes me feel worthless
my husband only talks about himself
my husband hates cats
my husband embarrasses me
my husband just left me

is my husband in heaven
what is my husband up to
what should my husband eat to conceive a girl
is my husband my legal guardian
my husband likes me pregnant

why does my husband have no friends
why does my husband need so much attention
why does my husband repeat himself
my husband jerks in his sleep
why won’t my husband open up to me

how can I get my husband deported
how can I get my husband excited
my husband refuses to work
how can I show my husband respect
how can I get my husband to understand my depression

is my husband right for me
what is my husband doing online
why won’t my husband defend me
who is my cousin’s husband to me
who is my husband going to be in the future

poem from my lover’s (slash/yes my husband’s) new chapbook. he is giving away free copies. ask him for one/read more poems here.

Paris Hilton Nostalgia

It was generally accepted that there were two camps on Paris Hilton, during her cultural relevancy. 1) You believed Paris was a campy sort-of-fun cultural icon. In an era of glittery Princess themed bumper stickers, she was our Diana. In comic sans. 2) You believed Paris was the downfall of civilization.

I was of the former, and I want to think I was right. Yes, it is wrong that the culture elevates only the rich, white and privileged to the highest pinnacle of “It.” But Paris, as a cultural icon, had an alluring nihilistic quality. The world was Paris’ oyster and she emerged from it, extensions flowing gif-like, seemingly in control of her fame. Paris used her privilege to be famous and have fun. The moment she occupied was about not taking yourself so seriously. About taking nothing so seriously. And something about all of that felt comforting….

The moment Paris typified was about sex. “It was like this weird mélange of technology and sex and society. It was like a Tom Wolfian peek into the upper class, right into their sex life. And it touched on all these fears people had about technology and invasion of privacy,” says Vanessa. Paris was a mermaid in a petri dish of Napster, Internet Porn, cybering….

I wrote a piece about Paris Hilton… Read it at Thought Catalog

Vacation II

Vacation II

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