Fash·ion [fash-uhn] Pronunciation Key –noun
1. a prevailing custom or style of dress, etiquette, socializing, etc.: the latest fashion in dresses.
2. conventional usage in dress, manners, etc., esp. of polite society, or conformity to it: the dictates of fashion; to be out of fashion.
–verb (used with object)

Having worked in and around the world of Haute Couture (High Fashion) for a good 6 years now,I consider myself acquainted.

Alas, the more I learn, the less I wish I knew.

Yes, folks I do believe the Honeymoon is over and that if a few changes are not made soon…
divorce papers may be signed.

First off, take the fact that most of the clothing brands your average American has access to and can afford are sewn in sweat shops by tiny children in third world countries.

YES! Guess, Abercrombie and Fitch, Calvin Kline, Forever 21, Victoria’s Secret, Target, Old Navy and Banana Republic are a mere handful of names on the long list.

for more info on such dreadful matters visit www.sweatshopwatch.org

Now, multiply that by idea that there is no true middle ground between the cheaply sweat shop made ‘Ready to Wear’ garments (1.clothing made in standard sizes; ready-made clothing ) and pocket book emptying one of a kind ‘Couture’ pieces (1.high fashion; the most fashionable and influential dressmaking and designing ).

that’s right, except for a very select few exceptions to the rule (which i am currently working on compiling a list of) the fashion forward young person of today must make one of two choices when purchasing a brand new garment.

1. Buy a moderately cute but horribly sewn inexpensive garment at say Forever 21 (I like to call this “disposable clothing” the garment equivalent to a tampon due to the fact that it will most likely fall apart after one wear and wash) and support the mistreatment of fellow humans at the same time.

or

2. Take out a loan and skip eating out and other social outings like movies and bowling for a few years in order to purchase an exquisite hand made dress by Christian Lacroix but chances are you may be accused of looking like an escapee from the its a small world Disneyland ride if you are caught wearing it out.

You also have the problem of how shallow and competitive this industry is.
Jobs in fashion are all who you know and not how talented you are and even if by chance you do get your foot in the door of one of the major companies most of the fun and creative side has been taken out and replaced with pure business and many a rule and regulation. How can we create a product for as cheep as we possibly can and mark it up as much as possible?
Not fun. Not interesting. Not ethical.

I am not going to even get into the horrible stereotypes fueled by the greedy fashion industry that start even in grade school.
comments like “Did you see her shoes?” or “Is that a faux Chanel bag she is carrying?”
are yet another hurdle our youth have to overcome to feel “accepted” or “normal”.

DISCLAIMER-

I am by no means telling you to avoid trying to look “cool” or shopping at the normal places you go to find that last minute dress you really need for the office Christmas party. I myself on occasion do darken the doors of several of the clothing chains that I previously mentioned. I personally believe that one must feel 100% conviction about something in order to properly boycott it and boycotting is not convenient in the busy fast paced country we live in.

We can do a whole lot more good in this world by finding and creating alternatives for the things we disagree with rather than standing outside businesses with signs and yelling at all who pass by.

That being said, here are a few positive things you can do to counteract all of the horrible things that go on behind the scenes of the world of fashion

• Be Creative Enough To Re-Invent The Clothes You Already Own

instead of reading to cheesy shopping magazines like Lucky that just make you want to BUY BUY BUY I would rather refer to The sartorialist and see what REAL people all over the globe are actually wearing on the streets. It is always visually inspiring, never boring and I usually come away with ideas of how to put pieces together that have been sitting in my closet forever in a whole new way.

• Buy Vintage and Thrift

It takes a little more time and yes your hands usually smell a little funny after sorting through chaotic racks of old clothes for a few hours but you are doing amazing things for the environment and mankind and chances are you will NEVER run into another girl with the same crazy floral print dress. You will be random, fashionable relevant, avant garde and one of a kind all wrapped up in one.

• Support Your Local Designers

Look into who the local designers are in your city. When starting out, young up and coming designers often have a hard time charging the money they want to get for their pieces due to the fact that no one has heard of them. Help them get their name out there by wearing their pieces and in turn you get great deals on exclusive clothing and a chance to be a little different. There are also scores of designers with merchandise available on the Internet take Jared Gold’s Black Chandelier line for example. Both inexpensive and interesting.

• Give Clothes That You Don’t Wear to Charities

Why throw things away when you can help others.
If you do not know of any local trustworthy charities to give to visit www.justgive.org

• Take a Sewing Class

If you have the spare time and the interest you should take the basic sewing class at your local fabric store even if all you desire to do is alter the fabulous things you find at the salvation army or take those old boot cut jeans that still fit and make them skinny jeans in just a few minutes.
If this is a little over your head, i suggest getting in touch with the college nearest you that has a design program. Fashion students need both experience and cash and will take in or let out things for much less than any alterations shop.

• Barter and Trade

So you are an amazing cook and your friend Erica can sew
Erica’s boyfriends parents are coming over for dinner and she is petrified. She always burns everything! You can cook a fabulous meal for her and in turn she will make that adorable high-wasted skirt with all the buttons you’ve been talking about for a month now.
bring back the bartering system. It is artsy and cool.
-

So I finally saw The Dark Knight on the IMAX yesterday. I was blown away by the IMAX sequences. I forgot just how good 70mm film can look. This isn’t necessarily a review of the new Batman movie, you’ve probably already seen it anyways. If you haven’t seen it yet because you’ve been in the hospital or something then you’d better stop reading because I’m going to unleash some spoilers.

After I saw The Dark Knight the first time I tried to convince myself that it was the best comic themed movie ever. Batman is my favorite comic book character, and I would argue the most important comic character in history. Unfortunately this new movie must be more closely scrutinized than the rest for that reason.

I was never a Make Mine Marvel kid. I read a little Spiderman and X-Men, but Batman was where it was at. And especially Neal Adam’s Batman. Batman, along with Bo Jackson, and Mr. T were my role models. Batman had the detective skills of Sherlock Holmes, the gadgets of James Bond, the fighting abilities of Bruce Lee plus 100 ninjas, and most importantly an insane thirst for justice. Those are all things that are humanly possible if one works hard enough (except if you’re not blessed with being a billionaire I guess the gadget thing is a problem). Batman wasn’t an alien, he was never in a laboratory experiment gone awry, he wasn’t born with any super powers, he was basically a regular dude.

I loved The Dark Knight. No doubt this is the best film in the Batman series, except for maybe this one. Heath Ledger totally ruled as a Joker I’ve never seen before. The closest I can think of is the Joker from The Killing Joke, which I think the new movie borrowed heavily from since in that story the Joker tries to prove that he can make a certain someone insane from just one bad day. The Harvey Dent/Two Face stuff is great too. I hate to say it, but I think that the movie would’ve been better without Batman. His raspy voice really bothers me. Really, I think I’ll save myself some time and send you to this insightful review by Devin at Chud.com. While I don’t agree completely with him, he does bring up a lot of really good points. One of the biggest problems I had with it was the Joker. Although he steals the show, he’s also very poorly written. How can someone that claims he never has a plan seemingly pull off all these really big schemes with less that a day to work it all out?¹

And what’s with this whole thing with the Government helping Batman to spy on Gotham’s people to catch the Joker? It reminds me of Kingdom Come and Frank Miller’s Batman. It’s these half baked plot points that really bring the movie down for me. You could make a great Batman movie where he turns Gotham into a police state like in Kingdom Come. Instead they just glossed over the whole thing and didn’t even take a firm stance on whether or not it’s a good idea to spy on the population in order to take down evil.

I’ve decided for myself that as far as movies go, Iron Man is the clear winner for best all round comic book movie ever. At least until we get to see Watchmen.

1. In a recent interview with Ian Punnet on Coast to Coast AM, Neal Adams explained that the Joker is an expert planner BECAUSE he’s so psychotic, and while I agree with him on that since he knows the Joker better than most people, I didn’t see anything in the movie to suggest that was the case.

Remember that Brady Bunch episode where they went to a ghost town and got kidnapped or something? It might have been an episode of Out Of This World though, or maybe all sitcoms resort to the ghost town episode like they do with the amnesia episode, and the episode where someone has 2 dates on the same night at the same restaurant, and they have to keep running from one table to the other so they’re not found out. Anyways, here’s the 10 most amazing ghost towns according to oddee.com, a site that I think was made just for me.

#8 Kowloon Walled City, AKA The Lawless city is one of my favorites. The thought of a city ruled by anarchy is just amazing.

Thanks go to Jason for introducing me to this awesomeness.

Jericho, NY
June 9, 2008

To Whom It May Concern:

In the past two and a half weeks, I have used your services to travel to and from Ireland. Now, let me say that I don’t make a ton of money and had to save for quite some time to go on vacation to the Emerald Isle. If I made as much money as say, Hugh Grant, I probably wouldn’t be as upset as I am. But more on that later.

On Saturday, May 24^th, I tried to catch a connecting flight to Shannon from New York’s JFK airport. Thinking that since I had paid for this flight four months in advance as well as having checked less than a day beforehand to make sure that the flight was still on time, you can imagine my Bruce Banner-like rage when I got to NYC and found out that my flight to Shannon had been canceled. The first thought that ran through my mind was that I was going to end up spending my two week vacation in the Big Apple. This poses a problem for me because I am not particularly fond of New York City. It’s the Yankees, really, that is the source of my hatred. Derek Jeter is just okay and Jason Giambi looks like the damn missing link. There, I said it. Also, I did not want to smell hot garbage for two weeks. Eventually, I was re-routed to Dublin where I was able to catch another flight over to Shannon and everyone who was re-routed was able to get on that flight over to Dublin. I’m thinking that you guys just didn’t send the plane over in the first place because it wasn’t economical. In college, I learned that “if it isn’t making dollars, it isn’t making sense.” It only took me six years to graduate if you can believe it. On with the ranting… The cancellation of the flight delayed my vacation time by eight hours. That’s a lot of Irelanding if you ask me.

Two weeks later, I was set to return to the States. I love it here. We have delicious burritos, freedom of speech and I’m sure some other stuff that I really enjoy. But mostly, it’s the burritos that I enjoy. With cheese. And sour cream. And guacamole. And when I get a hankering for a burrito neither man nor beast is going to get in my way to stop me. Airlines, however, are neither one of those things, as I am about to point out to you. Also, if CENCORED were a living and breathing beast, we would have to do battle and given my skill with medieval armaments, I am sure that I would win. I’ve seen “The Lord of the Rings” about 50 times so I’ve got all the moves down.

Saturday morning, June 7^th: my flight to JFK was delayed three hours. This three hour delay caused me to miss my connecting flight and kept me in NYC city much longer than I had anticipated. Had I had one of those “Sex and the City” lifestyles of drinking flirtinis (or whatever those dames call them) and looking like the underside of a foot (see: Sarah Jessica Parker), I would have rather enjoyed myself for a few hours. That is not the case, though. I enjoy beer, hockey, and being awesome.

Long story short because of your delay, I spent an extra 14 hours getting home. Add that to the eight hours that I spent in getting to my destination in Ireland and you’ve got 22 hours total.

Here comes the fun part for me: what could I have done with 22 hours?

– Organized a Habitat for Humanity crew and built a house for some deserving homeless people – it’s entirely possible that a family of four in Des Moines, Iowa, is sleeping underneath an overpass tonight because of you folks.

– Found Keira Knightley. You never know.

– Driven my Chevy to the levy.

– Etc..

But I think that the best thing that I could have done with those 22 hours is work. And since all of this time was spent in New York City, I am going to use their pricing system… stay with me on this.

According to salary.com, the average Human Resources Manager (which happens to be my profession) in New York City earns about $92,000 per year. If you average that out, that’s $44.23/hour. 22 hours @ $44.23/hour would yield $973.06.

That’s a lot of money. And that’s what I expect to be paid to me by you folks for wasting almost a day of my time.

Oh, and I must tell you that you folks could really use my HR expertise… ’cause the customer service representatives that you have hired and are working for you at JFK airport perform service as well as a CENSORED. I’d like to add that there was a flight that my mom (who was traveling with me) could have caught on Delta that night to her home but I’m sure that you’ll be hearing from her, too. Anyway, if you want to hire me, we’ll start near six figures and full benefits and then work something out from there. Just a thought. I’m even going to include my resume to let you know how serious I am.

But back to the issue of money. I’ll take the payment either in cash (preferred), certified money order(s), or in (your American partner) American Airline vouchers. I don’t have any plans to fly to Ireland again anytime soon but I could fly back home to see my folks a couple times on your dime.

I’m anxious to hear a response from you. You can get in contact with me anytime. Or you can just send me a check… whichever is better for you.

If I do decide to go to Ireland again and have not been satisfied with the way you handle this matter, I guarantee you that I will be flying on RyanAir. I’ve held a grudge against the fast food giant Wendy’s for two years for not reimbursing me the $3.17 that they said that they were going to and I haven’t been back since. So don’t think I’m kidding.

Regards,

Stephen P. Bohn

Basically, postcolonial theory looks at racial and cultural bias towards a conquering element or against a dominated element in a text. I started thinking about Jungle Book in these terms originally because of Rudyard Kipling’s involvement with India as a British colony, and Disney’s tendency to say horrible things in the undertones of their movies. Also, I quite like Jungle Book, and I was just curious to see what I found in it that six-year-old me did not. Before I go into the postcolonial side of things, I would like to note how unashamedly horrible and hilarious the little girl’s song at the end of the film is. I remember hating it when I was a kid, I thought because it was slow instead of the jazz/beat inspired music of the rest of the film, but I think my subconscious was also reacting to the words: “When I’m grown/ I will have a handsome husband/ And a daughter of my own/ And I’ll send her to fetch the water/ I’ll be cooking in the home.” I just thought I’d share that because it’s ridiculous to have a whole song about, even if it was the state of Indian women at some unknown time in animated history.

Though I started the film intending to focus on the story, what jumped out to me instead were the choices in characterization and voicing that Disney made for the different animals. Almost all of the animals are voiced by British actors, with varying degrees of “Britishness” to their accents. The story is set in India, so this is initially bizarre considering that the filmmakers decided not to use standard American English (as they did in Mulan, which is set in China). Even if they were set on depicting character by accents, they did not use an Indian English accent, which would seem most appropriate for most of the characters. This aids in seeing some themes in the movie, as well as comments on the choice of the filmmakers to cast it this way.

The story seems to be centered on the idea that the Tiger’s opinion of how to treat Mowgli differs from the rest of the Jungle’s, but because he is the tiger, they have to give up their beliefs in favor of his position. They appear to be depicting a system of oppression where a minority’s (the tiger) opinion on the world causes everyone else to stop what they’re doing and deal with it or face consequences. Shere Kahn, of course, gets what is coming to him (delivered by an American bear, I might point out), and leaves the Jungle apparently forever (the vultures say they’ll never have to deal with him again). Ultimately it is Mowgli, a sort of symbol of the oppression of the jungle, who gets rid of him, with the help of the American bear and the British-expatriate ¹panther.

There is much to be said for the symbolism in the story itself, a lot of which I actually had to go ahead and write to get out of my system before I got to this. But though the story seems to paint a picture in support of freedom from imperial oppression, the lack of nationality and representation of Indians when the story clearly has reason to include them indicates a problem either with the casting directors or the prospective audience of the film. There are no Indian accents, even in Mowgli or the girl, who both have American accents for no apparent reason other than to create kinship between them and the American children in the audience. While the film seems to depict with it’s story the successful liberation of an oppressed jungle, it seems that the only way to depict this was to attribute success to Americans, and to a lesser degree, other white British people. The only African American voices are the monkeys, another set of bad guys, and not bad in the sense of Shere Kahn, who has different beliefs and is a sort of political extremist, but bad in the sense of amoral, rough kidnappers with intent to exploit and do away with the man cub. Further, the monkeys speak jive or use the diction of swingers (no pun intended) instead of hardworking, common dialects, alienating them as some kind of dangerous, edgy fringe group or counter-cultural movement. There is clearly a preference for the white outlook, specifically the white western-European value system. Perhaps the insinuation is that the native people could not achieve success on their own, or that if they did, they would be following American ideals of independence and freedom, and thus be more like white members of civilized society than natives who cannot speak proper English.

Another possibility is the prospect of an American audience who would not relate to the “foreign” Indian accent. This is different from the British accent, which is common in mainstream American film and television and even carries an insinuation of higher intelligence and refinement. It does seem probable that if there were Indian accents in the film, the audience would notice them as different, where the only British accent that is distinct is Shere Kahn’s, and as a child I remember perceiving it not as a British, but as an intelligent and powerful accent. So the problem could be with the audience’s perception of an “other,” where the other is not a fellow western hemisphere Caucasian, but a brown easterner, or even “Why does he talk that funny way? What kind of accent is that?” I imagine it would have been my first encounter with an Indian accent, and probably my last until I was allowed to watch The Simpsons.

Based on the themes of the plot, Jungle Book seems to be an example of an author intending to convey one idea, which is undermined by the author’s culture and experience. What is interesting in this case is the idea that the undermining subtext could be caused by marketing, which I would guess happens very often in the consumerism-art relationship. It also shows the applicability of these theories to all art and creation, including children-oriented film, books, and art. A bit scary, but being a child in a world that creates all these subtexts in the first place is also scary.

1. I call Bagheera the expatriate instead of the oppressor like Shere Kahn because, though he is similar in species to Shere Kahn and though his accent is a British one, it is not as pronounced as the tiger’s and he has sympathy for the opinion of the wolves that Mowgli is not dangerous. He is, however, the strongest supporter of Mowgli going back to the man village, the closest opinion to that of Shere Kahn, which seems to link him to British citizens sympathizing with the native “them,” in this case, Indians or wolves.

]]> http://www.readtheloop.com/2008/06/jungle-book-theory/feed/ http://www.readtheloop.com/2008/05/the-kingdom-is-leaving-without-me/ http://www.readtheloop.com/2008/05/the-kingdom-is-leaving-without-me/#comments Fri, 23 May 2008 15:09:26 +0000 Aimee Shiree http://www.readtheloop.com/?p=195

I’m starting to feel like a real loser for not having ridden my bike to work yet. Everyday someone in the office asks, “did you ride here today?” I’m getting really sick of having to say no. I’ve always got a bunch of semi good excuses, like “it’s 400 degrees out and I have to go to the dentist at lunch” or “I need to go to tutor 40 minutes away right after work” or “we’ve got practice and I have my guitar” or BLAH BLAH BLAH!

Anyway, next week I am going to make it happen if it’s the last thing I do. All 8.5 miles. I’m supposed to get my sweet chrome rack and basket in today and that will help me for sure. I definitely need a lot of water to be readily available and I’m super tired of the backpack scene. I’m going to give myself 2 hours the first time to avoid any feeling of stress whatsoever.

Maybe I should just get a Wii Fit… but then I’d have to get a Wii. I’m a little nervous about how 1984¹ the whole scene is too. I guess I’ll give the biking a fair shake before I go the route of being watched by Big Brother.

1. In Orwell’s book, an exercise instructor wakes everyone up at the same time and they have to do all kinds of stretches and work outs via a creepy two way screen, a mandatory fixture in every home.

My least favorite part of biking everywhere is the lack of anonymity.  I’ve been getting phone calls and texts everyday from people who “saw me biking around.”  I’m  not sure what the purpose of telling me that is, but it seems to really press on people to let me know.

I mean, I don’t think I look that cool with my bangs blowing straight back in the wind and my nose running (it’s allergy season).  On the really good days, I sport the latest of my accessories, “sweat,” as well.

Yesterday as I was biking home with a bunch of toilet paper under my arm, I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of social response to expect.  As I turned the corner onto my street, I was met by a torrent of bikers- all of which looked way more serious than I did in my ruffled taffeta shirt and slippery black flats.  They were all decked out in sportswear and helmets and spandex and their bikes probably even came from a recent decade.  I tried not to feel like a tool, but it was tough.  They were all staring at me, biking along at a good clip, holding my bath tissue.

This stuff isn’t for the hipster.

G’day mate. No worries. Throw another shrimp on the barbie…
Can you guess where I come from? Now, first of all, we don’t say shrimp - we say prawn. Fosters beer is not the beer of choice in Australia; it was actually exported because we wouldn’t drink the stuff. Kangaroos are prolific, but generally not in the middle of a town or city. And we don’t all have a penchant for wrestling crocodiles.

But those things aside, having lived in Nashville for 10 months, the differences between the two cultures has been a lot more contrasting than one might think. One western country is the same as another right? Here a few things lost in trans-pacificism …

Coffee
I think I have spent the first 9 months sub consciously looking for a decent coffee. Now let me clarify, Coffee is a big social thing in Australia second only to going down the pub. A lot of evenings the choice was between the two, depending on how talkative we wanted to be and if there were decent bands playing at the Cambo (pronounced Came-bo - short for The Cambridge Hotel). But the differences don’t stop there.

When I say “let’s go out for coffee” I think of a rich espresso shot with a 1/3 of steamed milk and 1/3 of steamed milk froth at a street side cafe. No it doesn’t have caramel in it, or whipped cream on top and it’s not some black murky stuff that I put a half milk half cream mixture into. It’s a coffee. In the end I managed to score a small but free espresso machine and consoled myself by making my own meagre replicas.
When I was first here I asked for a cappuccino at a local Starbucks and was asked how many shots I wanted. I replied “one,” (because I’d already had a coffee earlier) to which the lady serving me replied, “No this is espresso.” Bewildered, I agreed and drank the very milky and tasteless drink. On another occasion a young hipster working at what I thought would be the best coffee house in the mall I was in asked me if I wanted my cappuccino wet or dry. Confused I asked what this meant. In the end I politely asked him to make it to a ratio of thirds. This time it was a little better. So after 9 months I ended up stopping by a coffee house that a friend recommended in the West end. Thank goodness - my coffee disillusionment was debunked and I sat down and had one of the best coffees in a long time.

Beer & Spirits
I love beer and wine and enjoy the odd spirit every now and then. Let me also say that beer plays a big part in the Australian culture -a fact which we most probably derive from our British, Irish and Scottish roots. The thing that astounded me on my first visit state side was the sheer cheapness of the amber ale. Where at a bottle-o (bottle shop) in North East Sydney, you’d pay $14 for a six of domestic beer over here I can pick me up 12 cans of Natty Ice … well you get the picture. I will just throw in that Toohey’s New (most popular NSW domestic beer) is a darn shade tastier than Natty Ice which I’ve been known to temper with a shot of cranberry juice concentrate -to make it a little more palatable.

Tipping
This is something that was completely foreign to me. Tipping is for days when you’re feeling happy and it is quite out of the ordinary in Aust. I’ve grown accustomed to it to a degree. One thing that I do still do shirk at is tipping bar staff. You’ve poured me a beer - good job - but I can’t justify giving you a dollar for the effort. I obviously need a little more persuasion.

Parking lots
Another strange custom (and I have been told that this is a southern thing) is etiquette in the parking lot. Back home if you walk in front of a car that’s maneuvering the car park you’ll either end up under the car, coping a “one-fingered-salute” and some verbal abuse or, if you run across someone whose overly polite, they’ll wave you through. I have stood in the parking lot looking a little lost as a hulking SUV’s driver waits for me to cross. I thought you bought an SUV for the express purpose of running people over.

Cars
On that note - the size of cars is quite a curious thing too. On my first visit it was one of the first things I noticed - that and the that LA’s air smells like gasoline. In Aust. your average larger car is the equivalent of a toyota camry over here. V8’s are a rarity in nowadays with the price of fuel which is the equivalent of $5.55 a gallon and if you see them they have been converted to run on LPG (liquid petroleum gas). We certainly don’t have anything the size of some of the pickups I’ve seen getting around Nashville. My wife and I have dubbed the dualies - “pickups with hips”. I’m sure their super macho drivers wouldn’t appreciate the feminine reference

Spelling
Lastly is good old rudimentary spelling. Colour is now color; labour is labor. It’s not mum anymore, it’s mom and so on and so forth. I had a moment last year where a piece of graphic design I’d done for a website was handed back to me with smirks and grins. When I asked what was wrong with it my colleague took great pleasure in telling me that the client wanted Labour spelt Labor for their Labor Day weekend promotion. “I just told him you were Australian.”

“Ahhh” said the client .

I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to keep this up for a while longer, I haven’t been able to buy any of the things I really want yet. Now I need a root canal so that will dip into all the money I’ve saved. I wish health and wealth would cooperate more fully and stop getting in each other’s way.

The less food I buy, the less everything else I buy. I’m so afraid to go near a store and be tempted that all my spending is majorly decreased. I’ve been carpooling to work. I’m in search of a serious road bike. I want to decrease my living costs en totale so I can focus on living the high life in my tiny, inexpensive apartment¹.

Day 22

At lunch the HR woman who sits near me gave me her leftovers from a Greek place. Pretty ridiculous. And by “ridiculous,” I mean delicious.

That night I went on a date and ate Shepherd’s Pie at Family Wash

I’m not very good at going on dates so I didn’t eat much.

Day 23

Today a coworker offered me Sunchips, but ate them. Luckily I had gotten a text from Holly in accounting telling me to eat her leftovers in the break room’s fridge. They turned out to be the same Greek stuff that I got yesterday. Score.

This time there was some pita bread (upper left corner).

I went home for a second to let my dog out before tutoring and ate a piece of that pizza I got from the photo shoot. It held me over really well and I did 8 miles at the gym. No problem! I feel great. Once I was home I ate some dried fruit left over from the Nashville Film Fest.

Day 24

I wasn’t able to find anything for breakfast or lunch today, then a coworker who just started reading these articles showed up with this.

I feel it needs no further explanation. Needless to say, I don’t feel so good.

Dinner. Last piece of pizza from the photo shoot.

Day 25

Today it took a long time for me to get to eat. I cooked a can of photo shoot tuna in a pan. I also ate some dried fruit. Rough. I feel like I must have eaten something else too, but I think I just drank some hot chocolate that my grandma brought me when she visited a couple weeks ago. That junk can be really filling. Topped off the night be hanging out in a hot tub with some friends and eating a few doritos. Those things are sick, but I really needed them at the time.

Day 26

Today I was supposed to go canoing. There was a triathlon going on, so I was unable to use the lake. Jesse bought me a low fat blueberry muffin from Panera. I’m sorry about becoming so lame about pictures. I was so hungry by late afternoon, I thought I would die. I scoured my cupboards and found a can of refried beans. I had some left over corn tortillas from a parental visit and some photoshoot cheese. Combined, they saved my life. I promise I’ll do better with the pics tomorrow. I’m a little bit ashamed of my laziness.

Day 27

Today sucked for a little while but really got good near the end. The joy started when a coworker gave me an orange.

When I got home I used a bunch of free stuff I got from the photoshoot to make this

I’m calling it “baked FREEti.” It’s kind of like baked ziti, only not good.

It helped me make it to see my friend and banjo player play with another band. Pretty good night.

Day 28

Kick started the day with a banana. I got to my desk and it was laying there looking luscious.

I later discovered it came from an inspired coworker. She gave me that serious cookie also. I feel so supported. Camaraderie, folks, is key.

For lunch I ate a bunch of FREEti leftovers

At tutoring, one of my students gave me the rest of her peanuts because they were not salty enough.

When I got home from working out, I was WRECKED. I did freaking 12 miles uphill in 34 minutes on the bike. So i rewarded myself with a bunch of gross junk that I either found or was given…

World’s smallest, weirdest burrito.

Just when I thought life could get no better, my roommate decided to make peanut butter cupcakes.

They were more like muffins, but they were completely delicious.

Today is technically my “last day.” I don’t think I’m going to quit yet though. I never did get around to the whole dumpster diving scene. I really mean to. My Whole Foods contact just emailed me about getting some bread. Gotta make that happen yet. No, I don’t think I’m ready to quit freeganism.

1. I have yet to find said apartment, but have not given up.

The beer cans act as the logical conclusion of southern living. They were meant less as a criticism and more as an abstraction of a group of people and how they live. With the beer cans I wanted to reflect on and entertain stereotypes of the south with mild cynicism. The entire project came as a precipitation of my attendance of the Southern Literary Festival in New Orleans.

Hush

Mulch

Pool

Sonic

Stairs

Beer Batter