My Name is Alice -- What Difference Does It Make?

I was at a party last night, when people asked me my name I said, "Alice." I swear, once that little "iss" sound was made, half the girls at the party flipped.

"Oh my god! Just like Alice Cullen!"

OK, my name has always been Alice. It has been Alice thirteen years before Twilight was originally published. No one seemed to notice the awesomeness of my name because of Alice in Wonderland except old literaturephiles. But now, my name is getting recongition because of this lame series known as Twilight.

Look, next time you hear my name, or someone else says that their name is Alice, don't get all excited and say something stupid, "Just like Alice Cullen!" All the Alices in the world are sick of it. Give us a break. Alice Cullen is nonexistant. Alice Liddell was. Give us credit for her, not some random vampire.

MY NAME IS ALICE.

I AM ALICE.

AND NO, IT IS NOT "JUST LIKE ALICE CULLEN"

IT IS JUST LIKE ME: ALICE

I'd Like to Try and Read Your Palm - I Will Trust Your Guitar Until the End of Times

When I was in seventh grade, we were assigned our first personal essays by our English teacher. We had to choose between three topics. I chose the easy one, the "Hero" essay. Many kids in my class chose the same, but they wrote about their parents, grandparents, or any other relatives. I didn't look up to any of my relatives, so I chose to write about someone I did look up to -- Patti Smith.

I poured my heart out into that essay. I cried when I read it to myself. At that point in that cold Chicago winter, I realized that Patti Smith was everything that I needed to be. I needed to be the poetess of my time, I needed to be carefree, I needed to be strong. I felt I was none of those.

I wanted to be like her, I wanted to say whatever the hell I felt like. I wanted my voice to sound like her voice. Patti said that Edie Sedgwick was fire, I think that Patti was fire. Patti did everything with a passion that no one I know can match. I know people that work so hard to match her passion, but they know and I know that only she has the passion for everything she does. She will get on her knees during a show to scream how damn young she was, and a lot of people do that, but she is the only one that is still so beautiful that my heart stops when she does it.

In my essay, I described her magnetism towards me. When I first held her album Horses, I felt that Patti was genius. I wanted to dress like her, and I do on occasion. I thought she, "exemplified total femininity in masculinity" (To quote my old essay). I talked about Patti's personality and how it blew my mind every time. She defies every single assumption ever made about her with such grace and beauty that I can only wish I was as graceful as her.

I ended up recieving an A+ on that essay. I was on cloud nine. My teacher said, when I read it aloud, that I wrote a high school level essay. In her comments on my essay, she said that my paper was brilliant, that it was maybe the most passionate essay any of her students wrote about someone they didn't know. I felt proud of myself. I felt that I wrote in a way that gave Patti Smith every single bit of credibility and respect she deserved and then some.

One thing I didn't portray in my essay was my love for her. How I felt that she was my guardian angel. That her music was my shoulder to cry on from time to time. I still feel that grealtly about her. Patti and her music changed my life when I was in sixth grade. Patti is the one woman I know that has allowed me to be myself. My mother surpresses me, Patti allows me to be truly free. She helped my defy everything people thought of me, she inspires me everyday. She inspires me when I write, when I meet new people, when I'm upset, when I kiss my boyfriend. Patti gave me something I cherish, the abilty to ignore other people's opinions. Patti, as I all ready stated, is my guardian and I will trust her guitar guitar until the end of times.

"People say beware, but I don't care," is something Patti once said and that quotation is something I wrote down and taped to my mirror, it reminds me to not care about surpressing rules. To break all of them. I have the power to be free, and Patti Smith, my insurance, mentor, and patroness, gave me that power. And I promise you, I will never abandon that power for anything.

Patti is everything. Patti is the female Rimbaud. Patti is the kiss goodnight. Patti is the sex. Patti is the boy across the street. Patti is the girl that your mother tells you not to hang around with. Patti is the shoadow in the alleyway. Patti is the flag waving high. Patti is the sound blasting from that stereo. Patti is the friend that will never leave you.

Patti is now sixty-two, and she is still beautiful. Patti is still carefree, Patti is still brave. Patti is perfect. Patti is a goddess. Patti is my patron saint.

"I haven't FUCKED much with the PAST, but I've FUCKED PLENTY with the FUTURE,"

--Patti Smith from the song, "Babelouge" off her Easter album.

I'd Like to Try and Read Your Palm - I Always Fall for the Tragic Ones

How can you not just adore Edith Minturn Sedgwick? That smile, those eyes, those dimples, those legs? She was the most beautiful women in her Warholian era. I personally think Nico is much more beautiful, but Edie is much more special than Nico. Nico is definitely a hero of mine, Edie isn't, but Edie had something that Nico doesn't. Maybe it was Edie's sweetness. Edie, at least in pictures, always seemed sweet and kind, even if she was stoned and passed out in a toilet. Nico seemed otherworldly, Edie was obtainable. Nico was immaculate, Teutonic, tall, sexy. Edie was cute, girlish, and all-American. I think it was the all-American quality of Edie, along with the fact that she was a total free spirit, that I fell for her.

I first laid eyes on her at around seven years old. My mother had this biography of her and I used to love looking at those Life Magazine pictures in it. She seemed so pretty and perfect. I was so naive and didn't know anything about her. I didn't know the drugs she took, I didn't know the movies she made, I didn't know about Andy Warhol, the Velvet Underground, Betsey Johnson, or anything about that speed-fueled time in New York City. All I knew was that her name was Edie, she wore black tights, and she was beautiful.

My mom just let me gaze at those pictures without destroying my little dreams of what she was like. She wouldn't tell me that she was a drug addict, that she was tragic, or, worst of all, that she was dead since 1971. I had to figure that out all by myself.

I soon forgot about Edie and her black tights and big eyes. I became focused around the Beatles, leaving New York City and the wonders it possessed behind. My mind moved to London, so I can be free to think about Ringo Starr and George Harrison. Then, one day when I was eleven, I found an old album at an old record store. I was the Velvet Underground's The Velvet Underground and Nico. I was reintroduced four years almost to the day to Andy Warhol and his superstars. I decided to look the Velvets up on the interwebs and I found my Edie once again. I read about her and realized how tragic she truly was, but that tragic, fragile quality made me more intrigued. I soon read more and more about her until my opinion on her, Andy Warhol, Nico, and the Velvets were completely formed:
A) Andy = Awesome
B) Nico = The most beautiful woman that has ever lived
C) The Velvet Underground = Perfection, the most influential rock group of all time.
D) Edie = The saddest, prettiest thing to ever roam the Earth. Yet, I still admired her greatly.

Over the years, Edie became a fashion icon in my world. I started to wear opaque black tights everyday as part of my school uniform. I chopped off all my hair at thirteen, I started to do my make-up like her months after that. I even started to dance like her. I have ten pairs of big Edie earrings now because of her. I wear leotards because of her, I wear leopord print faux furs because of her. She, much like Nico, John Cale, Andy Warhol, and the rest of the Factory crowd has molded my style in the most positive, maybe a tad more outrageous way.

I sometimes wonder if Edie would ever be old. That, much like Kurt Cobain, maybe she just had the personality that couldn't grow up, that was just destined to die young at an epitaph. Maybe Edie would've had gorgeous, perfect childeren, maybe the world would've been a happier, more joyful place had she lived. You never know. Maybe everything would be different if all of the Factory people weren't so tragic, if they all lived?

"I don't know how she did it. Fire

She was shaking all over. It took

her hours to put her make-up on.

But she did it. Even the false eye-lashes.

She ordered gin with triple

limes. the a limousine. Everyone

knew she was the real heroine of

Blonde on Blonde.
oh it isn't fair

oh it isn't fair

how her ermine hair

turned men around

she was white one white

so blonde on blonde

and her long long legs

how I used to beg

to dance with her

but I never had

a chance with her

oh it isn't fair

how her ermine hair

used to swing so nice

used to cut the air

how all the men

used to dance with her

I never got a chance with her

though I really asked her

down deep

where you do

really dream

in the mind

reading love
I'd get

inside

her move

and we'd

turn around

and she'd

turn around

and turn the head
of everyone in town

her shaking shaking

glittering bones

second blonde child

after Brian Jones

oh it isn't fair

how I dreamed of her

and she slept

and she slept

forever

and I'll never dance

with her no never

she broke down

like a baby

like a baby girl

like a lady

with ermine hair

oh it isn't fair

and I'd like to see
her rise again

her white white bones

with baby Brian Jones

baby Brian Jones

like blushing

baby dolls"

--Patti Smith's poem "Edie Sedgwick (1943-1971)" from the book Seventh Heaven

Wine for the Woman Who Made the Rain Come

(Do mind the cliche beginning).

I laughed, I cried, and I highly enjoyed this movie.

What movie am I speaking of? Harold and Maude (1971) of course!

It starts off with Harold attempting suicide. Then he meets Maude at a funeral. Maude is an old lady, Harold is about twenty-two and hates his life. Maude shows Harold that life is beautiful. They fall in love. Then, Maude turns eighty and that's where I'll leave the summary.

Bud Cort is in this, and he's a total fox in it. It's a great movie with a perfect soundtrack by the now Islamic Cat Stevens.

FIVE OUT OF FIVE AL'S.

Check this movie out, you will love it.

It is happy and the way it is filmed is amazing.

This cult flick needs more recognition.

Bob Dylan PLAGAIRIZED?!?!?!!?!?!?!!?!?!!?!?!?

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!?!?!

Did my grandmother just tell me what I think heard? When Bob Dylan was 16, he took a song from the Canadian country singer, Little Buddy... supposedly.

Look, I enjoy some of Bob's music, but I think that he is a downright dick. He stole Andy Warhol's painting, he is a douchebag.

I understand his brilliance and influence, but I can't stand his personality.

Whatever, my mother will be devastated, my dad would be joyous, and I will just not care.

I love his music, I do. I'd rock out to Blonde on Blonde any day, but I hate Bob Dylan's guts. And he stole a song from some random Canadian. And we all know my affinity for Canadians.

I'd Like to Try and Read Your Palm - Canadians Were Never Sexier

"I'd Like to Try and Read Your Palm" is a special that is basically a ramble on one of my obsessions. The latest obsession is Leonard Cohen! Yay!



Seriously, my boyfriend is jealous of my love for Leonard Cohen! Who doesn't love weary poets that had crushes on Nico?


Leonard Cohen is a 74-year-old Canadian poet/musician best known for his song that was covered by the god of gods John Cale called "Hallelujah." Of course Leonard hung out with Andy Warhol, what old poet didn't back in the 1960s? He was a fringe friend, he played guitar for my girl crush, Nico (Seriously, I'd go gay for her and Edie Sedgwick).


I personally think Leonard is a genius. My favorite song of his is "So Long, Marianne" I even quoted that song for this segment. He even had a whole compilation of covers of his made for him. He was inducted into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame and wrote two songs about Nico.


"Give me a Leonard Cohen afterward," from Nirvana's song, "Pennyroyal Tea" is a lyric that takes my somber mood and makes me happy. I developed a friendship through the airwaves with Leonard Cohen when I was thirteen, that spiritual friendship is a friendship I cherish as much as my spiritual friendship with my hero, idol, mentor, and patroness Patti Smith, who I like to think is the female Leonard. OK, maybe his subtle picture and the picture of her screaming isn't a good example, but her mellow stuff is totally Leonard.

Young ones may not understand his slow, melodic, deep voice, but I did at thirteen. He spoke to me, though. He gave me advice, just as John and Patti did. He is, in my opinion, the silent rebel. Patti was the vocal one, John was the Avant-Garde one, and Nico was the beautiful one. These rebels all molded me and then some. The silent, laid back person in anything, at least for me, is always the one that stands out. When I was thirteen and I asked a boy out, the boy said "no, sorry," and I cried for twenty minutes late at night because of it. I screamed at my dad, "What would John do?" he said "I don't know."

"What would Nico do?"

"Do heroin."

"What would Patti do?"

"Write a song."

At that time, I was not confident in my writing abilities when it came to poetry. Then I quietly, almost defeated asked, "What about Leonard?" as I stared at a picture of him I printed off of the computer that I tacked onto the collage of musicians I still have on my wall today.

He said, "I think he and Patti and John and even Nico would go to school tomorrow with their head held high, acting like nothing even happened. Maybe Patti would confront him, but I think Leonard would just let it blow over."

And I don't truly know if Leonard Cohen would just let the first person he asked out rejecting him blow over, but it sounded accurate. I let it blow over, and that boy ended up changing his mind. I don't know what happened to him, he all ready graduated school. He went somewhere out west, but doing what Leonard would do, "WWLD?" helped me in love.

Ever since that night four years ago, I've continually have found solace in the words of Leonard Cohen. I have yet again made another friend through the airwaves. I have earned another shoulder to cry on. Leonard Cohen, a hero of a god, a human above all else, is amazing. That's all.

"Like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried, in my way, to be free."

--Leonard Cohen, "Bird on the Wire"

Song in My Head: Thursday, May 14, 2009

Today's Song:

"Very Ape" by Nirvana

Five out of five Al's

This is a fantastic song by one of the best bands in the world.

Yeah, I seen it all and yeah, I was here first. (From the song, dedicated to cute jaded boys)

Song in My Head: Monday, May 4, 2009

Today's Song:

"Babayaga," by The Polyamourous Affair

"Gonna follow you to hell," is something that I would say. Just cause I'm kind of obsessive.

"Babayaga" is an amazing song by an amazing duo. The video is just as good.

Five out of Five Al's

And I'm Not Even Polish: the Polish Parade Owned!

I went to the Polish parade yesterday. I dressed like Edie. I loved it! I never felt more connected to a culture I'm not even part of! It was awesome. There was a really cute guy there and he was really sweet but, he was 26, and I all ready have a boyfriend. But it was fun. I'll probably go next year. I have three mini Polish flags on my vainity right now. Hehe. :]