… Have to catch an early train
Got to be to work by nine
And if I had an air-o-plane
I still couldn’t make it on time
‘Cause it takes me so long
Just to figure out what I’m gonna wear
Blame it on the train
But the boss is already there ….
— “Manic Monday,” lyrics by Prince Rogers Nelson
I was intending to do something much more casual this time, but I fell in love with this month’s Tres Chic, and so here I am glammed up again.
“…There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it ….”
— Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
“When good Americans die, they go to Paris.”
— Oscar Wilde
Taking a smoke break outside of the strip club near the station’s main promenade, the bleached-skin woman tries to gather her energy and determination for the next round back inside ….
I work in the chorus doing three shows a night
Wearing fishnets and feathers under blinding white lights
I’ve served shots to hard hats who had booze on their lips
Been fondled and leered at for an occasional tip
And it don’t get no better, but it can’t get no worse
For the working girl’s world is the size of her purse
From Detroit to Des Moines it’s the same ugly scene
I’m a cog; you’re a wheel
He’s a king; she’s a queen
From the smokestacks to the meat racks
When you’re eyelined and curled
There’s a lot to be said for the working girl
Sweating for sweet water just to run through your hands
Six kids in Cleveland for one wedding band
Tied up to a mill loom for the minimum wage
A nest egg’s a daydream that never gets laid
And it don’t get no brighter, but it’s clearer to see
There ain’t no working girls like the ones on T.V.
From Detroit to Des Moines it’s the same ugly scene
I’m a cog; you’re a wheel
He’s a king; she’s a queen
From the smokestacks to the meat racks
When you’re eyelined and curled
There’s a lot to be said for the working girl
=====
I’m wearing:
Photographed at INSILICO region
love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail
it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea
love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive
it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky
— E. E. Cummings, “love is more thicker than forget”
=====
I’m wearing:
Photographed at our house
Last year, during my “rookie” period (lol), Harper introduced me to Fantasy Faire. Beyond the good work that will be done for the American Cancer Society, this event, maybe the biggest in Second Life each year, is just plain fun. I loved roaming around in costume last year, from full kimono to barbarian princess. In fact, the barbarian princess mode I was in was my inspiration for some of the costumes I’ve shot myself in since.
As of today (March 31), there’s 20 days until the gates between worlds open once more. Start saving your money, put together your most fantastic costume, and drop in beginning on April 20. Harper, Conan and I’ll be doing our usual photo work, as well as coming up with fresh costumes from what we pick up in the fifteen regions of the Faire. And, when you can, be generous in your giving to the Relay for Live vendors or kiosks. Cancer is something that’s touched almost all of us in one way or another, both in RL and in lost SL friendships.
See you at the Faire!
It arrives like the first ray of sunlight in the spring, like the scent of budding leaves in the wind, the stirring of slumbering spirit. The very first word from the Fairelands, as they begin shifting and changing, stretching and awakening, growing from dreams into reality.
Throughout the whole long year the Fairelands have been dreaming. They try on shapes like we would clothes, mix sea with forests, cliffs with towers, magic with mundane. Spires reach up toward the skies like blades of grass in the spring, caves emerge as dug by ground-dwellers over millennia, corals twist into mer-castles, gardens bloom. Fairelands dream, dream and breathe magic.
Some shapes they keep, some they set aside. Some dreams go together, form a chain of worlds holding hands with natural ease like siblings. Some need to wait for their family of worlds longer still, gaining strength and spirit.
This year, this spring…
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This little girl, done in bronze and sort of “smuggled” into position overnight (with a city permit allowing them) either says a lot about the future of business on Wall Street, or doesn’t say anything, depending on who you read and talk to. The statue, Fearless Girl, was dropped deliberately in front of another famous statue, Charging Bull, as a sort of symbol. She is supposed to represent future women standing up to Wall Street and corporations who have almost no female representation in board rooms and executive suites, demanding that this change, and soon.
Admirers think this is great. There’s a lot of detractors as well, though, pointing out that the statue was commissioned by an investment house that sells a branded package of stocks from companies with women on their board — and the plaque at Fearless Girl‘s feet is nothing more than advertising the package, complete with brand. It’s also pointed out that less than a third of the company’s own board is female, so shouldn’t they be putting their money where their mouth supposedly is?
Harper and I see this as a beginning, not an ending. Less than 30% representation certainly isn’t equal, but it’s a beginning. Societal mentality changes slowly — as slow as a glacier at times — but it changes. While as much progress as women have made in the corporate area in 45 years is about as slow as that glacier, remember that those big ice cubes have ground down mountains over time. It’s time to start improving corporate performance, yes. But it will come, one way or another.
Me and my friends are Jem girls
Jem, Jem is my name
Exciting adventure
Fashion and fame
Once you’re a Jem girl
You’re never the same
C’mon, c’mon and be a Jem girl
Jem, Jem is my name
Jem Opening Theme (variant 1), lyrics by Barry Harman
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My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Sister Gatling Gun of Love and Mercy.
My Johari window -- visit and offer your ideas on my personality
