Cant wait for this generation of middle schoolers to caption there photo dumps with
✨darling I’m a nightmare dressed like daydream✨
Cant wait for this generation of middle schoolers to caption there photo dumps with
✨darling I’m a nightmare dressed like daydream✨
When I was 24 I sat in a backstage dressing room in London, buzzing with anticipation. My backup singers and bandmates gathered around me in a scattered circle.Scissors emerged and I watched in the mirror as my locks of long curly hair fell in piles on the floor. There I was in my plaid button down shirt, grinning sheepishly as my tour mates and friends cheered on my haircut. This simple thing that everyone does. But I had a secret. For me. It was more than a change of hairstyle. When I was 24. I decided to completely reinvent myself.
How does a person reinvent herself, you ask? In any way I could think of. Musically, geographically, aesthetically, behaviorally, motivationally. And I did so joyfully. The curiosity I had felt the first murmurs of while making red had amplified into a pulsing heartbeat of restlessness in my bars. The risks I took when I toyed with pop sounds and sensibilities on red? I wanted to push it further. The sense of freedom I felt when traveling to big bustling cities? I wanted to live in one. The voices that had begun to shame me in new ways for dating like a normal young woman? I wanted to silence them.
You see, in the years preceding this, I had become the target of slut shaming, the intensity and relentlessness of which would be criticized and called out if it happened today. The jokes about my amount of boyfriends. The trivialization of my songwriting as if it were a predatory act of a boy crazy psychopath. The media co-signing of this narrative. I had to make it stop because it was starting to really hurt.
It became clear to me that for me there was no such thing as casual dating, or even having a male friend who you platonically hang out with. If I was seen with him, it was assumed I was sleeping with him. And so I swore off hanging out with guys, dating, flirting, or anything that could be weaponized against me by a culture that claimed to believe in liberating women but consistently treated me with the harsh moral codes of the Victorian era.
Being a consummate optimist, I assumed I could fix this if I simply changed my behavior. I swore off dating and decided to focus only on myself, my music, my growth. And my female friendships. If I only hung out with my female friends, people couldn't sensationalize or sexualize that, right? I would learn later on that people could and people would.
But none of that mattered then because I had a plan and I had a demeanor as trusting as a basket of golden retriever puppies. I had the keys to my own apartment in New York and I had new melodies bursting from my imagination. I had Max Martin and Shellback who were happy to help me explore this new sonic landscape I was enamored with. I had a new friend named Jack Antonoff who had made some cool tracks in his apartment. I had the idea that the album would be called 1989. And we would reference big 80's synths and write sky high choruses. I had sublime, inexplicable faith and I ran right toward it, in high heels and a crop top.
There was so much that I didn't know then, and looking back I see what a good thing that was. This time of my life was marked by right kind of naïveté, a hunger for adventure. And a sense of freedom I hadn't tasted before. It turns out that the cocktail of naïveté, hunger for adventure and freedom can lead to some nasty hangovers, metaphorically speaking. Of course everyone had something to say. But they always will. I learned lessons, paid prices, and tried to… don't say it don't say it. I'm sorry, I have to say it. Shake it off.
I’ll always be so incredibly grateful for how you loved and embraced this album. You, who followed my zig zag creative choices and cheered on my risks and experiments. You, who heard the wink and humor in "blank space" and maybe even empathized with the pain behind the satire. You, who saw the seeds of allyship and advocating for equality in "Welcome to New York". You, who knew that maybe a girl who surrounds herself with female friends in adulthood is making up for a lack of them in childhood (not starting a tyrannical hot girl cult). You, who saw that I reinvent myself for a million reasons, and that one of them is to try my very best to entertain you. You, who have had the grace to allow me the freedom to change.
I was born in 1989. Reinvented for the first time in 2014, and a part of me was reclaimed in 2023 with the re-release of this album I love so dearly.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the magic you would sprinkle on my life for so long. This moment is a reflection of the woods we've wandered through and all this love between us still glowing in the darkest dark.
I present to you, with gratitude and wild wonder, my version of 1989.
It’s been waiting for you.
actually if german was more widely spoken die känguru chroniken would have a huge fandom and like one half of the fandom would ship mark-uwe kling and the kangaroo and the other half would be very upset about that and there would be callout posts and block lists and it would be an absolute nightmare but also hilarious
This picture of a UPS worker delivering a package on 9/11 right after the second tower was hit is so fascinating to me. I totally would have used two buildings being blown up and the city infrastructure pausing as an excuse to not do my job. Just go back to the depot and call it a day. But no he’s bravely delivering that Backstreet Boys poster or whatever while everyone else stares at the buildings behind him in shock. Went “Well, that sucks. Can’t do anything about it I guess.”
His kids asking him where he was on 9/11 and he’s like “I was there. One block away. Didn’t see anything because I was delivering a Phantom Menace poster.”
I know I keep mentioning it but the fact the thing he’s delivering is so visibly poster shaped is so hilarious. Like if it was a big box labeled MEDICINE, KEEP REFRIGERATED or something visibly important, this photo would be a famous, used as patriotic propaganda about duty in the face of adversity. But this guy delivering what is almost certainly a poster while the South Tower collapses is almost an act of absurdism.
i don't really know how to relay the horrors that palestinians are describing first-hand, if you can speak arabic and follow people from gaza online there are some phrases i don't think anyone will forget, some things for the arabic-speaking world will scar for life just like muhammed al-durra scarred me as a child. at least five of the people i followed since last week (journalists, photographers, students, artists, tiktokers) are dead now. it's becoming terrifying to follow someone from gaza, because you don't know if they're going to be alive tomorrow. i don't really know how to describe this feeling? what is it to follow some kid on tiktok who's making jokes while planes drop bombs around him and think "i hope he stays alive?"
for those of you who don't speak arabic, there are many many palestinians in gaza posting updates in english:
many of them are also translating other posts from arabic. you can follow them on twitter.
there are also many gazans reporting from gaza and recording vlogs in english for an international audience that you can follow on instagram
(yara eid is the only one who is not physically present in gaza, but her family is and recently lost her best friend, the photojournalist Ibraheem Lafi in the strikes. she has lots of good and informative videos & interviews on the situation)
please note that these are people living through an actual siege and genocide, experiencing hell on earth for the past fifteen days with no relief and risking their lives to even get these occasional messages through. the content they share is not easy to watch and even more difficult to forget.
A Spring-Loaded Triple-Bladed Parrying Dagger, Western Europe, late 16th century, housed at the Château d'Écouen.
I would be so pissed if i was in a normal knife fight in paris in the late 1500s and a fucker quickswapped to this and dark souls parried me
If it weren't for the fact that I have the raspiest voice ever for a 20 yo woman I would totally smoke honestly
1. Don’t smoke. It clogs your arteries and kills your lung
2. Hot
Hozier finally said something about how stupid people sound when they reduce him to mystical forest bullshit so they can ignore his Black inspirations FINALLY
Full interview:
For the racist Hozier fans, can y’all shut the fuck up now? My man literally said it again, but with his whole fucking chest this time 😂😂😂😂😂
He’s telling y’all to stop saying that cap ass shit about him just making bog music.
I’m increasingly worried by all the people on my dash calling themselves insane for loving stories in the way humans have loved stories our whole history. “The brain rot is spreading” — you mean you were changed by art? “I’m not normal about this” — you were moved by it? You felt human emotions about it? “I’m about to be so annoying” — you’re going to talk about art? You’re going to be passionate? You’re going to think deeply about it? You’re going to feel love for the work of someone’s soul? You are not a consumer and art is not a product to be casually used! You are a human and stories are the beating heart of our humanity! You must feel everything and you must know that it is normal!