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I always equate the publishing of a novel to be like dropping off your favourite kid in the world in east LA or a dodgy part of Mexico City with just five bucks.

We Can't Stop

lindsayzoladz:

 I agree with the general concept of poptimism, but that word never fails to make me want to barf, because 99+% of people who listen to pop music do not have to come up with some kind of factionalized team name in order to enjoy it—they just fucking like what they like. And maybe that was part of the reason why going to the Bangerz Tour was so refreshing and yes I will even say life-affirming: Nobody there was trying to debate, like, Ted Gioia’s Daily Beast article between sets. 99+% of the girls (yes, they were mostly girls) there would not know/care about what “rockism” meant, or whatever insider-baseball circle jerk the “music writing community” was engaged in that day. They were just there to freak out over the music they loved. 

There are no Jack Kerouacs or Holden Caulfields for girls. Literary girls don’t take road-trips to find themselves; they take trips to find men.

"Great" books, as defined by the Western canon, didn’t contain female protagonists I could admire. In fact, they barely contained female protagonists at all.

As a bonus, gig-goers tonight also get to enjoy @katlombardcook’s Drawing Out Memories exhibition. (at The Glad Cafe)

As a bonus, gig-goers tonight also get to enjoy @katlombardcook’s Drawing Out Memories exhibition. (at The Glad Cafe)

The Baileys Prize is not the Paralympics, acknowledging a disadvantage and creating a separate, “equal” category; it recognises not a genuine handicap but a perceived one, and supplements accordingly. It ensures that, in a literary landscape dominated by men, there is one persistent piece of architecture which is guaranteed to make six women novelists visible every year. And this is why, all things considered, it is okay for the Prize to still exist; why they may be forgiven for seeking the biggest sponsors, even if that sponsor has resorted to the ‘sex sells’ dictum so nakedly that they made glasses of their product look like tits.
I love that people think theorising is stronger than dancing. I love that they think that’s a stronger way of changing the world.
Until Britpop, my listening tastes were fairly broad, taking in anything from The KLF to chart pop, early Prodigy and rave, Soundgarden, Leonard Cohen, Boney M and the Top Gun soundtrack. Britpop’s narrow aesthetic, and that of the media that lauded it, ruined all that, turning me into the kind of wally who’d list the ‘right’ bands on their school ruler. It took me years to recover, and it was only really the rise of detestable lad culture as a core aspect of Britpop that helped wean me off the stuff.
‘The Wind That Cried The World’ by The Phantom BandSo, um, it turns out I was wrong to prefer Rick’s solo stuff to The Phantom Band.

‘The Wind That Cried The World’ by The Phantom Band
So, um, it turns out I was wrong to prefer Rick’s solo stuff to The Phantom Band.

I always equate the publishing of a novel to be like dropping off your favourite kid in the world in east LA or a dodgy part of Mexico City with just five bucks.

We Can't Stop

lindsayzoladz:

 I agree with the general concept of poptimism, but that word never fails to make me want to barf, because 99+% of people who listen to pop music do not have to come up with some kind of factionalized team name in order to enjoy it—they just fucking like what they like. And maybe that was part of the reason why going to the Bangerz Tour was so refreshing and yes I will even say life-affirming: Nobody there was trying to debate, like, Ted Gioia’s Daily Beast article between sets. 99+% of the girls (yes, they were mostly girls) there would not know/care about what “rockism” meant, or whatever insider-baseball circle jerk the “music writing community” was engaged in that day. They were just there to freak out over the music they loved. 

There are no Jack Kerouacs or Holden Caulfields for girls. Literary girls don’t take road-trips to find themselves; they take trips to find men.

"Great" books, as defined by the Western canon, didn’t contain female protagonists I could admire. In fact, they barely contained female protagonists at all.

As a bonus, gig-goers tonight also get to enjoy @katlombardcook’s Drawing Out Memories exhibition. (at The Glad Cafe)

As a bonus, gig-goers tonight also get to enjoy @katlombardcook’s Drawing Out Memories exhibition. (at The Glad Cafe)

The Baileys Prize is not the Paralympics, acknowledging a disadvantage and creating a separate, “equal” category; it recognises not a genuine handicap but a perceived one, and supplements accordingly. It ensures that, in a literary landscape dominated by men, there is one persistent piece of architecture which is guaranteed to make six women novelists visible every year. And this is why, all things considered, it is okay for the Prize to still exist; why they may be forgiven for seeking the biggest sponsors, even if that sponsor has resorted to the ‘sex sells’ dictum so nakedly that they made glasses of their product look like tits.
I love that people think theorising is stronger than dancing. I love that they think that’s a stronger way of changing the world.
Until Britpop, my listening tastes were fairly broad, taking in anything from The KLF to chart pop, early Prodigy and rave, Soundgarden, Leonard Cohen, Boney M and the Top Gun soundtrack. Britpop’s narrow aesthetic, and that of the media that lauded it, ruined all that, turning me into the kind of wally who’d list the ‘right’ bands on their school ruler. It took me years to recover, and it was only really the rise of detestable lad culture as a core aspect of Britpop that helped wean me off the stuff.
‘The Wind That Cried The World’ by The Phantom BandSo, um, it turns out I was wrong to prefer Rick’s solo stuff to The Phantom Band.

‘The Wind That Cried The World’ by The Phantom Band
So, um, it turns out I was wrong to prefer Rick’s solo stuff to The Phantom Band.

"I always equate the publishing of a novel to be like dropping off your favourite kid in the world in east LA or a dodgy part of Mexico City with just five bucks."
"

There are no Jack Kerouacs or Holden Caulfields for girls. Literary girls don’t take road-trips to find themselves; they take trips to find men.

"Great" books, as defined by the Western canon, didn’t contain female protagonists I could admire. In fact, they barely contained female protagonists at all.

"
"The Baileys Prize is not the Paralympics, acknowledging a disadvantage and creating a separate, “equal” category; it recognises not a genuine handicap but a perceived one, and supplements accordingly. It ensures that, in a literary landscape dominated by men, there is one persistent piece of architecture which is guaranteed to make six women novelists visible every year. And this is why, all things considered, it is okay for the Prize to still exist; why they may be forgiven for seeking the biggest sponsors, even if that sponsor has resorted to the ‘sex sells’ dictum so nakedly that they made glasses of their product look like tits."
"I love that people think theorising is stronger than dancing. I love that they think that’s a stronger way of changing the world."
"Until Britpop, my listening tastes were fairly broad, taking in anything from The KLF to chart pop, early Prodigy and rave, Soundgarden, Leonard Cohen, Boney M and the Top Gun soundtrack. Britpop’s narrow aesthetic, and that of the media that lauded it, ruined all that, turning me into the kind of wally who’d list the ‘right’ bands on their school ruler. It took me years to recover, and it was only really the rise of detestable lad culture as a core aspect of Britpop that helped wean me off the stuff."

About:

The scrapbook of a twentysomething - THIRTYsomething! God, when did I last update this - multimedia fashion victim. Last Year's Girl, or Lis to her friends, is a journalist, blogger and amateur photographer. Some of these things actually pay her, but mostly she just wants to be liked. She likes social technology, homemade pizza, great-tasting lipgloss, Starbucks cappuccino and rock 'n' roll tales of redemption; makes her home in Glasgow and left her heart in New York City. She doesn't know why she needs a Tumblr account. Keep up with her at pixlet [dot] net.

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