Judy Berman

Sep 14 2014

fuckyeahcourtneylove:

Courtney Love - Drown Soda live in Canberra. August, 2014.
This song hasn’t been performed since 1995.

(via grungebook)

213 notes

Sep 04 2014
When something as comfortingly frivolous as painting our nails becomes a reminder that we’re all just one unlucky Tinder right-swipe away from the emergency room, what psychic space do we even have left for fun?

169 notes

Aug 27 2014
withrealandfake:

Salome’s Last Dance - 1988
based on Oscar Wilde’s play

withrealandfake:

Salome’s Last Dance - 1988

based on Oscar Wilde’s play

3 notes

Aug 20 2014

I learned something about Australian culture today

  • me: your people really are fond of the word "dickhead"
  • why
  • why do they like it so much?
  • Tom: i have thought a lot about this
  • i think that part of it is that it's so much fun to say
  • with a real accent on the first syllable
  • and it's so utilitarian and matter of fact
  • like there are a million more elaborate insults
  • but you're literally saying
  • your head is a penis
  • that's what i think of you
  • you have a dick for a head
  • it's hard to beat that really
  • me: wow

16 notes

Aug 15 2014

heartbarf:

A few stills from the DEAD HORSE book trailer, which will be in the internet soon. 

7 notes

Aug 12 2014
haileywojcikmusic:

Like everyone else I’ve just heard the sad, shocking news about Robin Williams’ suicide. He was brilliant and I feel lucky to have gotten to meet him on a couple of occasions… Obviously I didn’t really know him but (maybe since I knew some people who did, for whom his death is personally significant and tragic) the news is kind of haunting me right now… And maybe it’s this coupled with the fact that I’ve been thinking a lot lately about mental illness—depression, anxiety and suicide in particular—and dealing with it myself. I say this not to co-opt someone else’s tragedy and make it about my own shit, but rather just to contribute to a conversation that I think really needs to happen early and often whenever someone—anyone—is depressed and suicidal. 
It’s an impossibly huge can of worms and I don’t really know how much to say here. There’s the damaging depressed artist cliché, but, you know, well-poisoning (e.g.: “Hitler loved goat cheese, therefore anyone who enjoys a good chèvre must be a Nazi.”) goes both ways. Like, just because any number of artistic “role models” have suffered (and died) from depression, personality or mood disorders, addiction and suicide, doesn’t mean we should glamorize these afflictions as beneficial or somehow integral to the creative process. 
I say this as someone who wound up in the ER less than a year ago for doing something which wasn’t attempted suicide as such, but which could have killed me, as a result of my untreated depression, and who spent the better part of a year not creating a damn thing because of it.
I normally don’t talk about this because frankly I’m embarrassed by it.
(What role does shame play in suicide I don’t know, but I imagine there is a significant one.) Talking about depression can be risky. It can invite criticism, incredulity and, maybe worst of all, silence from someone who feels awkward about it and has no idea what to say.
The phrase “untreated depression” makes it sound oversimplified and anyone who has dealt with it knows that—it’s hard fucking work. And knowing you have to do the work and actually doing it are light years apart. You can be smart and lucid enough to talk about it, observe it, even function enough to hold down a job, but that doesn’t necessarily mean shit, and it certainly doesn’t mean it goes away when it’s ignored.
Depression stifles creativity. And suicide kills creators. This has been said more eloquently and by many other people, and I don’t even know if anyone reads this thing anyway, but I guess I just wanted to add my two cents and to say that I am sad and sorry to read about this brilliant, bright, complicated, imperfect, pained human being leaving us. And about all those we don’t and never will read about. Sometimes I guess all we can do is talk and listen, so thank you for listening.

haileywojcikmusic:

Like everyone else I’ve just heard the sad, shocking news about Robin Williams’ suicide. He was brilliant and I feel lucky to have gotten to meet him on a couple of occasions… Obviously I didn’t really know him but (maybe since I knew some people who did, for whom his death is personally significant and tragic) the news is kind of haunting me right now… And maybe it’s this coupled with the fact that I’ve been thinking a lot lately about mental illness—depression, anxiety and suicide in particular—and dealing with it myself. I say this not to co-opt someone else’s tragedy and make it about my own shit, but rather just to contribute to a conversation that I think really needs to happen early and often whenever someone—anyone—is depressed and suicidal. 

It’s an impossibly huge can of worms and I don’t really know how much to say here. There’s the damaging depressed artist cliché, but, you know, well-poisoning (e.g.: “Hitler loved goat cheese, therefore anyone who enjoys a good chèvre must be a Nazi.”) goes both ways. Like, just because any number of artistic “role models” have suffered (and died) from depression, personality or mood disorders, addiction and suicide, doesn’t mean we should glamorize these afflictions as beneficial or somehow integral to the creative process. 

I say this as someone who wound up in the ER less than a year ago for doing something which wasn’t attempted suicide as such, but which could have killed me, as a result of my untreated depression, and who spent the better part of a year not creating a damn thing because of it.

I normally don’t talk about this because frankly I’m embarrassed by it.

(What role does shame play in suicide I don’t know, but I imagine there is a significant one.) Talking about depression can be risky. It can invite criticism, incredulity and, maybe worst of all, silence from someone who feels awkward about it and has no idea what to say.

The phrase “untreated depression” makes it sound oversimplified and anyone who has dealt with it knows that—it’s hard fucking work. And knowing you have to do the work and actually doing it are light years apart. You can be smart and lucid enough to talk about it, observe it, even function enough to hold down a job, but that doesn’t necessarily mean shit, and it certainly doesn’t mean it goes away when it’s ignored.

Depression stifles creativity. And suicide kills creators. This has been said more eloquently and by many other people, and I don’t even know if anyone reads this thing anyway, but I guess I just wanted to add my two cents and to say that I am sad and sorry to read about this brilliant, bright, complicated, imperfect, pained human being leaving us. And about all those we don’t and never will read about. Sometimes I guess all we can do is talk and listen, so thank you for listening.

(via likeapairofbottlerockets)

40 notes

Aug 03 2014
We live in such confusing times.

We live in such confusing times.

1 note

Jul 22 2014

Eventually - by Simone Wolff -

finery:

our toes popped out the weave of jelly shoes
and rolls of puffy stickers got spent on old
notebooks
                   butterfly clips and scrunchies busted
and tore up our long tight-braided hair
nylon barbie backpack lightup velcro sneakers
all our fashions and our juvenilia
have become our trash
                                         we were holes
the world was falling through       fast

Courtney Love is still in my heart
every time I fall through someone else
my plastic ponies trotting off the shelf
I get trashed under skies all violet
singing give the violet more violence
I was a hole but now I’m a meatgrinder

9 notes

Jul 21 2014
My beloved
I have something to tell you
When stuff gets too good it gets bad
That dark good stuff
It always gets bad…
Niina Pollari’s Lana Del Rey poems are so good. Better even than Lana Del Rey, some might say.

10 notes

Jul 19 2014
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