Transitions

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Returning to my blog after about two months of having gone MIA on its’ ass is testament to how much I have matured. Jokes. There has been no maturing, except with regards to my sexual appetite. TMI? Regardless, I have returned to something I have neglected.

Transitions are the few months that creep up on us with outlines of trees, and seashells, and abstract shapes that you may never be quite able to identify, which allow, nay, force you to fill in that shit like a coloring-book. Except, when life throws you coloring-book sketches, it often forgets to throw you a box of crayons. Maybe Life is just that considerate so as not to hit you in the head, or maybe Life doesn’t care unless you give It a reason to. Nevertheless, bitch needs her coloring utensils!

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via Tumblr

You rummage about your past and your desired future, hoping to discover anything that can help you fill in those sketches. If you’re lucky, you might find a Sharpie, or an almost-used-up highlighter.

I’m confused, I’m uncertain, I have cut loose all ties that have hindered my growth, however hard and courageous that may seem. I have written an article entitled 10 Things One Should Know About Dating A Compulsive Liar. I have finally begun to perform. I started babysiting two brothers, ages four-and-a-half, and nine, whose naivete have taught me more about life and the importance of humility than I could have possibly acquired from any other source. I have filled my days with tasks and errands and obligations, in part to better myself and maintain control of my life; and in part to teach myself how to survive in a world in which we are brought into, and depart, alone.

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Oh hey! That’s me!

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Me and my piano best friend flashing our pearly whites!

I am testing the waters; testing my surroundings. Seeing how far I can push before everything collapses. Trying to discover my limits as to what I can rebuild, and whether or not the foundations will be stronger this time around. I allow myself to test the people who claim to still love me, and I question whether love really has anything to do with a specific two people, or whether it is all based on timing. By utilizing every tool under the sun to pushing away the people who claim to love me through acting childish; using malicious words that hurt them below the belt; taking advantage of the attention they give me to see if they will stop giving me said attention; I try to discover if certain feelings can, in fact, surpass even the most awful attempts against them.

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Love and Naivete

If you can kick and scream and threaten, and act like you are trying to hurt someone, and have them acknowledge that you are inadvertently asking them to look at your attempts with a certain adoration, and understand that all you want is proof that they know you well enough to understand what you are doing; then perhaps the world doesn’t work as predictably as is presumed.

This transition is about having Life humor me by introducing facts and information and successes and feelings that I haven’t yet felt. Just when you think you have felt and seen everything there is to feel and see, a bird shits on your arm and you are forced to turn the around, wash it off whilst cussing under your breath, perhaps leading you to bump into another destination clad with feelings that you didn’t know existed.

Transitions are a scary thing. Being proactive is the surest way to maintaining a sense of self during such difficult times. An optimistic outlook is surely the mechanism with which to guide us to our next phases in life. I am proactively waiting in anticipation and excitement. Something amazing is just around the corner.

My head hurts, I’m out.

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And of course, in case you didn’t get the memo, you can catch my melodic ass here :

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Downtime Is Productive-time. Get Inspired.

Bradley Soileau. It’s pronounced “swallow.” Gladly. Just kidding, relax.  Even I have my limits.

Bradley Soileau.

Alright, limits shmimits

Phenomenal voice, phenomenal presence.

So real and unafraid. It’s liberating to see someone feel so liberated. Nasty and adorable at the same time. Azaelia Banks.

A beautiful model with a beautiful mind. Plus, she is wearing denim overalls. If A-L-E-X-A-C-H-U-N-G doesn’t spell I-N-S-P-I-R-A-T-I-O-N, then I don’t know what does. Actually, “inspiration” spells “inspiration,” but that is not the point.

The first time I watched the “Yonkers” music video, I was intrigued.  I found it to be absolutely disgusting; but “disgusting” is no longer a derogatory adjective, after having seen it.  Its syllables smoothly and systematically move into each other, like th vertebral column in a human back.  Tyler the Creator is so vile, so Disgusting, that he becomes sexy.  Extremely sexy.  And extremely inspiring

Want those Vans x Supreme Campbell’s shoes. Someone wanna hook it up?

The Supreme campaign is mind-boggling to me.  Throughout its eighteen year history, it has become a landmark on NY’s Lower East Side.  They have fun, stay real and authentic, and make bank.  Inspiration at its best.

Hey THAT’S ME!

I hope seeing some of these pictures makes you feel as uncomfortable as I felt putting them up.  However provocative they may seem, at least they evoke feeling.  Whether it is disgust, discomfort, attraction; we live during a time when people are always trying to push limits.  Sometimes, perhaps resulting from whole-hearted emotional investment in past relationships, I find that I have trouble experiencing emotions the way I used to.  For whatever reason, anything that can spark emotional interest sparks my interest.

She’s 10 years old.  Don’t know if I like what society has become, but this really affected me.

 

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May 21, 2012 · 10:02 pm

The Weeks I Spent Eating & Watching Mad Men

Take me to the MOON! (Taken by me)

Blame it on my birth sign, but apart from my deceptive public exuberance, I am in fact the most reclusive person I know.  Blame it on my genetics, but apart from my deceptive figure, I am, in fact, a certified fat-ass. Safe from the trips to school and occasional coffee meetings with girlfriends, I spent the entire first half of May on my couch in front of the television with a family-sized box of cereal.  In addition to sulking over my having been born in the wrong era, secretly wishing that Don Draper would come to my rescue, knowing full well that I would love him unconditionally, regardless of his huge sexual appetite for every living, breathing, bosom-bearing human being with a functioning vagina, I have successfully managed to discover the most AHA! food combinations.  And so, I shall list:

  • Corn flakes and cottage cheese
  • Corn flakes and cream cheese
  • Corn flakes and anything, really
  • Bread, olive oil, avocado, and Dijon mustard
  • Olive oil, avocado, Dijon mustard (corn flakes not unwelcomed)
  • Avocado, Dijon mustard
  • Avocado
  • Dijon mustard; the really spicy kind.  Shit opens your nasal passageways like all hell.

I promise I am not depressed.

See? Jolly as a button!

Au contraire.  I found these days to be some of my most productive all year.

I made an extremely painful and difficult executive decision a few days ago to take the next, logical step, in pursuit of my career. It is time to take everything I’ve learned: my newfound humility that I have encountered after being thrust into a community of extremely talented musicians; my relatively recent acquisition of an Israeli Passport that I hold so close to my heart; and move back to NYC.

Tel Aviv Sunset.  Sigh (by me)

New York. Oh, the dilemma. (by me)

We must embrace change, as difficult as that may feel at any given time.  Furthermore, we must accept that even the most seemingly futile moments of our lives, especially times during which remnants of a more difficult past seem to creep up on us, i.e. binge eating, immobility, consecutive masturbation, I jest can, in fact hold the seeds to a brighter future.  I don’t want to leave Israel, but I am trying not to ignore my slightly larger gut from leading me to where I ought to be.  It is time to do things the right way.  Recording, performance, introspection, bring it on.

“A goal without a plan is just…a wish.” Thanks for that, Antoin e de Saint-Exupery.  And thank you @badgalriri for having an Instagram clad in pictures of strippers, and intelligent, inspiring quotes.  Who knew.

Mixed feelings about her, but dayummm she’s looking on point in Supreme. Riri (via Tumblr)

Azaelia. More inspiration! getitgurl

Be back in a minute

-MLC

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On Regret & Forgiveness

“You can search the whole world over and never find anyone as deserving of your love as yourself.” – Buddha

Teach Yo’self How 2 Spell  (Photos in this post are not by moi)

Forgiveness.  To be honest, it was never relevant to my life, so I had never really given it much thought. No one seemed worthy of so much effort because in my twisted perception of reality, when someone fucked you over, you cut them out of your life because they could do it again. But as I grew colder and more bitter, and made these types of severances on a far-too-frequent basis, I seemed to overlook one very important factor: that we are all human, and thus, bound to err.  And that my handful of true friends was growing ever smaller.

If I were on the receiving end of a similar metaphorical beating every single time I screwed someone over, I would be living in a lonely and bitter world.  Instead, though, I’ve managed to create a cold one that is, most of the time, deprived of much genuine feeling and crammed with superficial camaraderie.

Still deciding which is worse.

But in our case, which was worse?  That you lied, and played a dumb fool, or that I stood idly by, clad in mocked ignorance, and did nothing about it?  Both.  And neither.

I feel I am to blame for supervising the destruction of something with so much potential, and have not yet forgiven myself.  After all, it is not every day that you come across a complete stranger with whom you share an intense connection, right off the bat.  But this isn’t about you.  It is so much more about me, than anyone can possibly comprehend.  I know that if I don’t forgive myself, I will never grow. I have lost so many people that I have loved, cared for, and invested in because I couldn’t give them another chance.  I realize now that even I can betray myself.  Even I can fuck up.

And even I could give myself another chance.

I learned that it’s ok to be me.  To hide how I am feeling is to rob myself of the most beautiful and thrilling part of any successful relationship; one that builds lasting trust, love, and friendship.  To deprive oneself of that function is to deprive oneself of a complete and meaningful experience.

I regret being unable to accept that someone could genuinely care for me.  I regret not allowing myself to, essentially, be me.  I regret that we couldn’t make it past our first test.

Yeah gurll, getit.

But I am also grateful that we weren’t in too deep.  And for the lesson that is Forgiveness.  So as I strive to fully forgive myself, I hope for the positive effects to cancel out the negativity that comes with said regrets.

What I’m sure of is that the lesson learned is way better than the situation is bad.  I could have really loved you, but you have taught me that first and foremost, I have to allow myself to be loved.

This too, is a part of the process.  I’m out.

-MLC

PS you can peep my NEW COVER here if you haven’t heard it yet :)

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Remember When

Remember when I promised that this post would be clad in a Smiths cover? Glad to hear you’re not suffering from dementia. I changed my mind. But here’s a cover of Flume by your very own MLC, instead! Hope you enjoy! …!

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CLICK HERE fo mah cova.

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It’s Better To Be…

No, YOU!

It’s better to be a first-rate version of yourself than a second-rate version of someone else. Unless you’re Ahmadinejad. No one likes a mean dude with a temper. But because this here webblog isn’t centered on political controversy, if you dig the dinejad, that’s still A-OK by me!

Many times, I find myself pondering why so many of my most important relationships have failed, or why I try to compare myself to other people, or why my dry-cleaning from 4 days ago has not yet arrived. Although there are many elements that can be factored into each of the aforementioned questions, it all boils down to one recurring theme: the fear to accept and relentlessly demonstrate the unaltered, unapologetic version of Me.

In the learning processes that are our lives, there arrive moments during which those seemingly-fictitious-extremely-overused-i-love-my-adjectives-don’t-you sayings like, “be yourself!” hit you in the face faster than Rihanna’s face hit the dashboard of CB’s car. (Shit just got uber-controversial in here). The previously hidden meaning of such a saying can creep up behind you and make you realize that you’ve never really internalized it at all.

Photo not by me. Kind of cliche, kind of a nuance. Embrace the moment, people.

It is easy to lose yourself in the search for who you think you ought to be, especially in the world in which we live. You’ve just got to embrace the cool ol’ cat that you are, and take it one step at a time, until you get to your final destination. Concentrating on trying to perfect yourself is not selfish. When you focus on being the best that you can, independent of what you think the world expects from you, you are inadvertently contributing to an even better world.

And who doesn’t want to live in one of those??!?!!

It’s all a part of the process.

-MLC

PS Remember that Smiths cover I promised you here? Coming real soon. Real REAL soon.

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NY, I Love You

Things happen.  Then they don’t.  Then somewhere in between things happening and things not happening, you find yourself people watching whilst waiting for the 6 train, trying really hard not to yell at the uber-hot couple making out, that “IT’S ALL GONNA END, GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN!” reflecting on all those things that did happen, with the burning desire to know where the $^*# it’s all going to take you.

As my trip back to the states so conveniently collided with several changes in my life, I have acquired sentimental value for my hometown of NYC.  There is an inexplicable beauty that you take notice of when revisiting remnants of your past.  It has changed, and you have changed, and your eyes suddenly see things and avoid things that were previously unseen and unavoided.

 

I have rediscovered parts of NYC that I hold dear to my heart.  The hidden gems, boutiques and people drove me to a realization that when revisited, most good, bittersweet, and sometimes even “bad” things, can hold elements to help guide you through your journey to where you want to, and ought to be.  Seeing old friends and family has made me to want to move ever forward with my goals and aspirations.  They are the forceful gust of wind, the unspoken whisper, validating that my foundation will be there to help me up when I fall, and fall again, until I can finally stand on my own.  Or fall without bruising.  I bruise like a peach, IGHT?!

Although I’m nostalgic for NYC, and my roots as one often-cynical-sometimes-snobby-shopaholic-who-grew-up-way-too-fast-for-anyone’s-good, girl, I’m excited to get back to Israel and resume working on my music.  I am going to take what I’ve seen, done, and learned, toss it into a huge bowl of fruit loops with 2% milk the mixing bowl that is my life, write more lyrics, and sing the shit out of them.  And maybe grow a pair and perform them, as well.  And on that note (musical innuendo, hardy har, shutup) here are some snippits of my trip back home.

-MLC.

Williamsburg Bridge. Crossed that shit like 15 times by foot. I got calves like a racehorse now!

 

Brooklyn.

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