Proclamation time –
Well, perhaps not on the same spiritual level as a Papal allocution, today’s otherworldly revelation is more of an auspicious public unveiling of sorts; along with the posting of this Blogbook entry, Raven Vanguard finally unshrouds a long guarded mystery, its new pictorial mark for our company logo, one that we believe perfectly complements the uniqueness of our existing logotype, and one that we feel also offers valuable insights into who we are as people.
Within the cloistered walls of our Studio, we purposefully spent an inordinate amount of time, energy, and emotion discussing the relevance of, and the cultivation and personification of our brand image. We three looked introspectively inward by earnestly and painstakingly examining and reexamining our collective consciousness, conjoint conscience, and shared awareness as well as those distinctive attributes and characteristics that make us unmistakably Raven Vanguard and singularly different from our peers. By expunging any lingering feelings of self-doubt through this wonderfully humbling process of self-evaluation, we were able to thoughtfully restyle our pictorial mark through several distinct transformations and reincarnations arriving at the one we proudly reveal to you today, please behold our majestic queenly Icon –
Over the past few months, I have received countless sensitive, but probing, emails from our Blogbook readers inquiring into and commenting on the apparent declining state of my mental health. To boot, shockingly, some of these same readers happen to be Family members and loved ones, ostensibly censuring me for the pettiest grievances imaginable. To summarize these emails, for many of you, the foregone conclusion seems to be that I have lost my mind entirely. In fact, there appears to be an overall consensus of unbridled dead certainty among nearly all of you that this is indeed the case. It is almost as if the content, themes, and subject matter of our Ravings are in some way symptomatic of, or a reflection of, a more deep-seated, troubled, or underlying pathological diseased state of mind on my part. To my Family and Friends, I merely respond, why the sudden realization, have you not met me? To everyone else, in a world that grows more inscrutable, weirder, and perplexing with each passing day, instead of simply embracing your overanxiousness regarding my welfare as the irony among all ironies, I choose to wear your kindly worriment as my karmic badge of honor.
Wait! What was that? Stop chitter-chattering? Are you talking about me? Can you repeat that? If not to me, then who the hell are you talking to? Shut up when I am talking to you – what exactly do you mean by that? Suddenly, there are too many shouting, and clamoring voices inside my head telling me what to do – Brooke and Dakota is that you? Maybe our readers have been right all along; perhaps I am losing it, could it be that after all this time I have indeed finally reached the inescapable vanishing point between madness and lucidity? Don’t pay any attention to that fool behind the curtain!
Yet, setting aside every single one of the hundreds of freakish and nightmarish moments of reckoning thrust upon me in recent months, truth be told, things are going great for me in both my personal and business lives, even though lately there seems to be less and less separation between business and personal, and business and pleasure. I guess this is what happens when you are finally doing something you truly love, and you are doing it with the one person in life you are supposed to be doing it with (Brooke, stand up and take a bow). Also, this feeling is magnified by the undeniable gift of having a one-of-a-kind Daughter who never ever disappoints (Chloe Joe, I am looking at you).
After many decades of struggling mightily to find maturity and balance, for reasons that are mostly due to Brooke and Chloe, I have finally grown up and wised up. Not only this, but I am now able to love unselfishly without compromise and to love absolutely without any expectation whatsoever of having to be equally loved in return. And along with this process of growing up and evolving, I came to this point of super-awareness and wisdom that for them I want to help make this world a better and more enlightened place, but not only for them, for future generations of humankind as well.
Whether it is a newfound consciousness or something else entirely, I finally understand that it is high time for me to take unconditional responsibility for my belligerence, accountability for my transgressions, and above all, ownership of my shit. Moreover, besides this, also came the profound realization that I must hold myself personally accountable for fostering positive change in this world and transforming it into the consummate experience for Brooke and Chloe, my Family and Friends, and for this and future generations of people I will never get to know directly or even have the opportunity of meeting. I now freely embrace these self-evident responsibilities as my higher purpose.
Now add to all of that, the unmitigated love and support of all my Family and Friends, and working alongside a supremely talented woman, like Dakota, who’s daily effort makes me proud and validates our decision to hire her rather than regret the decision or second-guess myself. On top of all that, I also wish to acknowledge the gratitude I hold in my heart for those relationships that started out as wholly business ones but blossomed into meaningful friendships. Whether my unfolding sensibility of an Anthony Bourdain-like awareness comes down to my new-found maturity or even a butterfly’s wings flapping halfway around the globe, the bottom line is this, every single choice made and to be made bears consequence. While my choices are undoubtedly my own to make, I now make them with the betterment of others in mind. My suddenly watering eyes bring me to another altogether different realization, that it’s time to get on with today's Blogbook entry finally –
Introduction – Staying on Message and Keeping in Theme
With hopes and aspirations of reconciling ourselves to and finding peace with God and each other, we voluntarily choose to begin and christen this Blogbook entry by briefly taking part in the very ancient practice of penance. However, in doing so, we ask you not only to indulge us but to excuse and forgive our decision to open this Blogbook entry with one of the oldest patriarchal and dogmatic cliches known to humankind.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a long, long time since my last confession. In fact, my very last act of reconciliation took place so long ago that many of my past sins are no longer considered illegal, having been declassified as crimes in most states with the underlying predicate acts having been decriminalized altogether. But, then there’s Bangkok. Oh, holy hell, fucking Bangkok! Not even the tides of time will wash away the perversity and immorality of my filthy misdeeds performed beyond yonder. Mortal sins of such unspeakable wretchedness for which Pentecostal forgiveness would merely be nothing more than an extemporized discarnate band-aid. Mortified, waking that very first morning to find myself holding a smoking pistol and scantily dressed in blood-red PVC vinyl looking a lot like a cross-dressing, Fanny and Stella embodiment of Beelzebub while some crazy looking bastard in military garb was humming a happy tune and fidgeting in the nearest corner with a casket waiting. Looking wildly around the entire room in all directions, I was instantly, but nauseatingly, relieved it was not my dying breath he was enthusiastically waiting for.
Regrettably, my imprudent and impulsive behavior in that faraway land, being mostly transgressions and indiscretions of an untamed and uncivilized nature, carried out while in the company of the merciless Thai Ladyboys, will never be considered socially acceptable anywhere. And that includes a more-open-minded place like California and a more indulgent locale like the hills and hollers of West Virginia. What is even more certain, my lack of moral fortitude and decency in Thailand will never ever be considered legitimate and lawful in the eyes of the Church. Enough about Thailand, and what you surely imagine it to have been like, I digress too long, back to my actual confession.
If you are a habitual or even periodic reader or harsh critic of our Blogbook Ravings, the public-styled confession I am about to make will not come as much of a revelation or unveiling to you. Raven Vanguard absolutely loves fashion; notably, it's cutting-edge avant-garde side. Fashion’s originality, ingenuity, spectacle, and glamour captivate and mesmerize us as much as any other artistic or aesthetic pursuit.
Now turning our attention to the focal point of this Blogbook entry, The Met’s (The Costume Institute’s) now ongoing Exhibition running through October 8, 2018, at The Met Fifth Avenue and The Met Cloisters titled Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination, and The Met’s May 7th Ball, The Met’s annual fundraising gala to celebrate The Costume Institutes latest exhibition.
Why did I choose both the Exhibition and the Gala to be the subject of this Blogbook entry? Matter-of-factly, Raven Vanguard’s design aesthetic owes more than just a passing nod to the artistry and inventiveness of the worldwide fashion industry, as artists ourselves, we are forever indebted to our awe-inspiring colleagues in couture. Moreover, aside from the unsurpassed beauty of the Exhibition itself, and the Pageantry associated with the Gala, I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to take on an assessment of fashion’s contributions to the ceremonial and ritualistic aspects of organized religion.
Speaking of ceremony, ritual, and religion, when discussions conflate into misunderstanding that devolves into suspicion that degenerates to rumor that leads to disagreements that boil over into accusations, we arrive at Francisco Goya’s 1797 masterwork, Witches’ Flight; an apparent source of inspiration for Florence + The Machine’s extraordinary new video, Big God. This video also makes for a fitting soundtrack to this Blogbook entry, check out the video here, and after watching it several times, please keep it on repeat while reading -
And, being raised Catholic, I should hope, in theory anyway, to be able to offer some meaningless insight, or worldly-wise hindsight, into Messiah Madness, and how Catholics rationalize their many trifling faults and roll with their liturgical fashion, pomp, and circumstance. If nothing else of saintly consequence, I mastered the dying art of listening with patience all dressed in my Sunday clothes. For this reason alone, I feel compelled to chime in and speak up.
Moreover, at a time when the US Government might actually consider adopting measures to relax restrictions on federal aid to religious universities, the timing of this entry feels about right. More to the point, even though I do not agree entirely with all of Betty DeVos’ views on education, like her seemingly indefensible position that ALL manner of traditional public schools are a dead end, or that the level of sexual assault on school campuses is not as high as we have been led to believe (in my case, I think it is actually much higher than she is willing to acknowledge publicly), I feel Betty DeVos, attributes of superfluous wealth aside, has the potential makings of a 21st Century Badass.
Turning to the Gala, from Raven Vanguard’s purely aesthetic viewpoint, Bella Hadid stole the show, but we’ll get back to Bella’s all-dressed-in-black, cleric-domina-styled vestments before too long. Of the approximately 600 or so guests that attended this year’s Ball, on the whole, there were some incredible highlights, and, rather than waste time on the oh so many failures (yes Kim, Kendall, Kylie, and Miley we are looking at you) or otherwise missed opportunities (Katy that would be you), we will spotlight some of the more radical achievements starting with Lana Del Rey’s.
However, before we get to Lana, please excuse this momentary public service message rebuking those among us who always seem to insist on exercising their apparent inalienable right to miss the point entirely for reasons of selfishness, conceit, and ego aggrandizement. Here’s an unconventional thought – Kim, Kendall, Kylie, and Miley draw near and pay attention; the next time you attend an event with the global cachet of the Gala, try putting your massive egos aside for just a moment and make at least some effort to dress appropriately in a manner that acknowledges and pays dutiful respect to your host’s well-thought-through theme for their event. Remember, this is their event, not yours. Most people would consider this common courtesy.
Here is a brief introduction to the theme of The Met’s 2018 Gala. Starting with its self-ordained guidelines for dress, denominated Sunday Best, the Gala engendered looks ranging from virtually puritanical at one extreme to downright sacrilegious at the other, and in between we find all manner of sartorial garb from god-fearing Victorian to schismatical heretical, with a middle ground that seemingly straddles a fence that is utterly bombastic at its sacred heart.
Finally, back to Lana. Don’t get me wrong; this does not mean I am suddenly 100% onboard with this whole headdress sacramental look (Brooke and Bhakti, I am specifically looking at you), and, in this case, I do not particularly care for Lana’s headpiece, but Lana’s Sacred Heart breastplate pierced by seven strikingly ornate daggers was a scene stealer for sure outshining her somewhat less emboldened cream-colored Renaissance-inspired dress with brass-colored accents and rose-colored flowers along its patterned hem.
Another showstopper, Zendaya in her medieval-looking metallic silver Versace gown. My utter fascination with Zendaya’s whole look finds its roots in the formative days of my childhood. I was awestruck the first time I watched Renée Falconetti’s performance in Carl Theodor Dreyer’s 1928 silent film masterpiece, The Passion of Joan of Arc, bringing to life the Christian notion of the ecstasy of martyrdom. Whenever we played boots-on-the-ground war games as kids, I curiously always found myself dressing like Joan of Arc rather than GI Joe. Fast forward to this very day; this probably explains why I am so drawn to Pascal Laugier's 2008 French-language film, Martyrs, and, to Brooke’s dismay, why I am still trying to dress up as a latex-clad reincarnation of Saint Joan every Halloween.
And how about Priyanka Chopra wearing a maroon colored velvet gown by Ralph Lauren? Can you say stately style and grace? For you ladies into headdresses, take a close look at Priyanka’s bejeweled headpiece and how she wears it so regally – absolutely stunning. Priyanka’s makeup deserves special mention as well, especially her eye makeup, the perfect complement of subtlety and drama.
Let me take a few moments to reflect reverently on Bella Hadid’s wardrobe. As our regular readers know all too well, Raven Vanguard loves the color black. Visually and symbolically, black is the most dynamic of all of the colors in the rainbow. So along comes Bella Hadid wickedly dressed head-to-toe in our favorite color, looking positively like a badly behaved Ecclesiastical Dominatrix, while wearing dungeon-chic garments collaboratively created and styled by two of our design favorites, Chrome Hearts Official and Gareth Pugh. What’s not to like? This woman’s look is hauntingly and domineeringly beautiful in ways that are timeless, elegant, sacred, mysterious, seductive, subversive, menacing, and taboo. In their utterly unique, provocative, artistic, and innovative use of color, form, shape, and texture, and in their overall aesthetic and flirtatious sense of style, Chrome Hearts and Gareth Pugh take no prisoners. From Bella’s high-collared black coat and latex corset to her flowing chiffon skirt, opera-length fingerless gloves, sculptural cape, and accessorized by a ten-pound headpiece crafted by Chrome Hearts, she elegantly balances elements of the sacred, the profane, the secular, and the otherworldly.
Next up, Lily Collins. Notwithstanding the fact that her Father absolutely ruined the Band, Genesis, when he turned the once profoundly original English progressive Band into the 1980s pop phenomenon it would eventually become, Lily, herself, is formidably kickass. Resembling a cross between a gothic-looking Eastern Church Icon and a modern-day reinterpretation of Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows (or, is that Our Lady of Seven Sorrows?), with her spiked headpiece, rosary beads, and makeup, Lily no doubt did her homework for this event.
Solange Knowles, what can I say about her Gala attire that has not already been said? Let’s start with a single word, perfection. Her wardrobe, trappings, and appearance check off every possible box for an event of this magnitude and pomposity. From her use of spiritual Florida Water to her all shiny-black Iris Van Herpen PVC dress, chunky jewelry, platinum blonde halo, leather boots, and a black jeweled durag placed atop her head running down the length of her back embroidered along its base with the words proclaiming “My God Wears A Durag.”
For some inexplicable reason, Imaan Hammam’s ensemble did not generate the praise it truly deserves. Take a minute to consider her wardrobe choice in context. A Muslim woman who is proudly and devoutly a follower of Islam looking positively and pontifically Catholic wearing Zac Posen’s sculptural black evening gown. Or, what about SZA’s blush pink fem-glam Versace garment, her matching pastel pink embroidered boots, and starry haloed headpiece – I think the word dazzling sums it up best. Then there’s Sasha Lane’s fetchingly seductive cross-breeding take on Mary Magdalene as the sacred prostitute morphing into Catholic schoolgirl as temptress, dressed in a sheer First Communion-style white lace gown by Tory Burch. Contrast this with Greta Gerwig’s high-necked oversized gown and billowing puff sleeves (Anne with an “E” is that you?). Greta’s austere take on black and white Nun minimalism also succeeded by replacing the more traditional and solemn habit with a very understated gold-embellished headband. Let’s not forget Madonna’s subdued, but artful, take on Catholicism and fashion. Although not as rebellious as Madonna’s former Catholic bad girl persona or her vogueish-based fashion outrageousness in decades past, she nevertheless hits all of the right notes paying homage to more conventional Catholic costuming by wearing an all-black gown by Jean Paul Gaultier (I readily admit that my selection of Madonna was influenced quite heavily by what she wore (better yet, didn’t wear) to The Met Gala in 2016).
Moving on to the remaining members of Raven Vanguard’s all-female Best Dressed Club from this year’s Gala, we start with Anna Wintour. Even though I have never had the honor of meeting Anna, one day I would very much enjoy the privilege of making her acquaintance. She is one of my longest abiding arbiters of high-minded creativity and artfulness. I couldn’t give two shits if the Devil Wears Prada, or not. Once again, Anna hosted this year’s Gala. Her appearance, in a single word, divine. Not surprisingly, Anna’s elegantly elaborate gown is from Chanel’s 2018 Spring Couture line, albeit modified to better suit the theme of the event and her graceful manner. And that ample cross cascading from her neck, undeniably slammin’.
Shailene Woodley, what can I say, her bangs and black thigh-high go-go boots did it for me. And while her shiny metallic armor-like Ralph Lauren leather mini-dress possessed a confident Joan of Arc savoir-faire, the tailoring, and stud detailing fell somewhat short in their realization. From Shailene, we move on to an artistic creation that is utterly lethal in its simplicity and execution – Janelle Monae’s black and white Marc Jacobs ensemble, accessorized by a crystal headpiece and wide-brimmed leather hat giving the impression of a golden halo. Next up, Ariana Rockefeller wearing a pink satin dress with its distinctive bow-topped train designed by Elizabeth Kennedy. However, it was the addition of the rhinestone embroidered sleeves with a single tiny cross on each that elevated this dress to something special.
Transitory Aside –
Hopefully, by now, you have had a chance to get acquainted adequately with Dakota (a Woman having such a surly disposition that virtually guarantees she is friendless and not well liked), the newest member of our Raven Vanguard team, by reading all about her escapades in our April 27th Blogbook entry. And, beyond that, if you’ve been extraordinarily diligent attempting to learn all about the cold-blooded mayhem and madness, and the succession of unfortunate events taking place in and outside of our Studios by reading all of our past Blogbook entries, we condemn you for your slavish dedication.
Brooke just said to me that the word I really wanted to use in my previous sentence was the word commend, as opposed to my chosen word, condemn. Well, as usual, she’s wrong. I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. That is not bitterness you detect in the tone of this entry, what you might recognize, if you’ve really been paying close attention to the ass-kicking I have been taking over the course of our past few entries, is total spiritual annihilation, caused by the type of destructive mental fatigue and decimating human bondage that pushes one to the point of a major psychotic episode, or worse. So, yes, I am pissed off.
As far as any objective comparison of scandalous tales of woe goes, mine, being without any comparable historical precedent, grades out a hell of a lot worse than that preposterously idyllic cakewalk through the park undertaken by Violet, Klaus, and Sunny. When will they ever get their misbegotten shit together long enough to stop behaving like overprivileged crybabies? Assholes grow the fuck up! And screw that amoral dickhead Count Olaf; he’s just another goddamned panty-wearing sissy with LDS. He should pull up his big boy pants and try doing battle with the likes of Electrik Alice, Dakota, and the Thai Ladyboys.
I shouldn’t kid myself, the only reason why most of you probably waste your time reading what I have to say finds its basis in the underlying science to social phenomena like rubbernecking and peer-influenced risk-taking. In truth, you are compelled to keep scrutinizing my unending string of unfortunate events rather than turn away, for the same reasons one stares into a blazing arson fire or chews on a Tide Pod, or can’t take their eyes off of the remnants of a horrific multiple-car pile-up on the highway, or engages in the ass-penetrating du jour modern-day resurrection or equivalent (meaning, whatever might be all the rage this month) of the 19th Century practice of strategically using belladonna and opium-laced tampons to get high (I can’t possibly make this shit up). Because everyone on this planet is intractably and incurably insane!
Coming under the heading adding insult to injury – Ascendancy to the throne is something many of us aspire to, especially in a business context. However, in my case, earlier this morning, during our weekly meeting to discuss the status of affairs here at Raven Vanguard, Brooke and Dakota were kind enough to let me know that at this moment there is an insurmountable hierarchical logjam preventing me from ever sitting atop the ceremonial chair. It seems I now stand third in line to the throne behind Dakota and Chloe. Along these same lines, also deserving of mention, Brooke and Dakota implemented martial law in the Raven’s Nest today threatening me with a Singaporean-styled corporal caning stick to ensure maximum discipline on my part with minimal effort on theirs. It seems I’m just another king forced to don a jester’s-cap in place of a crown.
Rant over, sometimes psychological unloading is not just cleansing, it is downright orgasmic. Back to the Gala and Exhibition.
Rarely to be outdone in the idiosyncratic glamor department, Rihanna’s 2018 Gala attire, a Pope-tribute of sorts, was as inspired and inventive as last year’s Rei Kawakubo creation. (Rei happens to be a significant influence on our sense of style here at Raven Vanguard. I had my eye on Rei ever since 1981 when she first exploded onto the Paris design scene with that other man in black not named Johnny, Yohji Yamamoto, with their hauntingly all black, head-to-toe, ritualistic-looking creations.) It is near impossible not to be bowled over by Rihanna’s design sensibility when it comes to the Gala. Despite her enormous celebrity, Rihanna, while being wildly original as usual, nevertheless, always respectfully stays true to the theme of the event (Kim, Kendall, Kylie, and Miley, hopefully, you were paying attention and taking notes).
Some of our other favorite looks from this year include Cardi B (undeniably stunning for her very first Met Gala), Blake Lively (in her crimson-colored Versace gown, but also for her magnificently beaded hand clutch), Kate Bosworth (inspiring Catholic brides-to-be everywhere), Cara Delevingne (simply because her dress was as precisely revealing as it was concealing), Rosie Huntington (for the same reasons as Kate, but juxtaposing her dress’ seductively plunging neckline against Kate’s straight-laced Virgin Mother of God look), and Rita Ora (strictly on her black headpiece alone).
Coming under the heading fighting fire with fire, enter Kat Von D and her coterie of gifted accomplices; I may be wrong, but I don’t think Kat Von D has ever attended the Met Gala. If I’m right about this, I hope the reason for this is conflicts in Kat’s schedule rather than the lack of formal invitation. Kat is someone I would love to have coffee and a long conversation with, especially if that conversation were to take place in her black flower garden in the presence of her Mother, Sylvia Galeano, and the Members of her unsurpassed Artistry Collective, Leah Carmichael, Steffanie Strazzere, Tara Buenrostro, and Kelseyanna Fitzpatrick.
Some of you may be wondering why I am introducing Kat Von D into this discussion about the Met Gala and its Exhibition; the answer is simple, take a look at her recently released, 10 Years of Kat Von D Beauty, the Muses campaign video-
We believe, thematically speaking, that each Von D muse would have been a welcome addition to this year’s Gala. Each Von D muse, in her or his own way, did more than merely borrow and integrate iconic elements, or experiment with becoming iconographic. Instead, they transcended the visual limitations of imagery to become one with a stunning and personalized manifestation of an Icon. Had Kat herself attended the Gala in her red wardrobe created by Majesty Black (as seen in the video), I would be hard-pressed to find any other Gala attendee to be her equal. Pure darkling radiance.
What’s so ass-kickingly brilliant about Kat’s look? Like Bella’s everything, but with a more-decidedly cadaverous, horror-glam take on Catholicism and iconography. From Kat’s color selection of Sangre red, and fabric choices of vegan leather, and latex, to her makeup, gold-colored nails, opera gloves, Halo hat, red veil, molded and sculptural corset with its cone-bra breastplate (an apparent homage to Jean Paul Gaultier), hoop skirt, rosary, crucifix, and her stiletto heeled boots, every little thing works with not a single missed step, flawless. Our kudos to Kat, and accolades aplenty for each of her perfectly attired Muses.
A while back, Brooke, Dakota, and I had been hoping to provide you with first-hand accounts of The Met’s Exhibition as part of today’s Blogbook entry, but our plans to attend the Exhibition and the International Contemporary Furniture Fair in Manhattan this month were derailed by some looming deadlines on various projects. So, rather than pass on to you a less than fully informed viewpoint about an exhibit that is as historically significant as this one, we will return to the subject of the Exhibition after we visit it in person sometime soon.
As we promised to do in our Dakota Blogbook entry, we return now to reveal our Raven’s Cultural Vanguardist of the Month for the months of February, March, April, and May, starting with February’s Vanguardist Oskar Schlemmer, followed by Coco Chanel for March, Kat Von D for April, and Man Ray for May.
Schlemmer, of Bauhaus and Triadisches Ballet fame, left behind an imposing and diverse body of work, as did Coco Chanel and Mr. Radnitzky. And even though the 36-year-old Von D has just begun the lifelong process of making one’s legacy, Raven Vanguard believes she already merits her seat at the table with this legendary titanic trio who came before her. Kat never fails to impress us with her intuitive ability to embrace passionately and meticulously examine the boundaries of her artistic dissimilarity.
Because it is utterly impossible to discuss the fearless creativity of these artistic virtuosos within a single Blogbook entry like this one, we have decided that our next entry will do just that. Sudden realization – I now have my work cut out for me if I intend to offer you any original thoughts or insights into their life or work. Reflecting upon my still unfinished Tom Waits Blogbook entry begins to beleaguer my dimwitted brain. Brooke and Dakota will not be happy with me and my decision-making for this catastrophic error in judgment.
So as not to entirely ignore the sacred subject of music, please allow us one more shout out before we finally put this Blogbook entry to bed; lyrically speaking, we are quite impressed by the change in direction taken by Arctic Monkeys’ lyricist, Alex Turner, on their latest release titled Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino.
So here I stand at the crossroads, left to obsess over or learn from my recent spate of obliquely broken promises, and to confront these indecent urges still assailing me like a biblical plague or some apocalyptic Black Mass, born of that monumental blasphemous cataclysm heretofore known pejoratively as Bangcock. Measuring the choices facing me, and their respective degrees of difficulty, against one another, is not only tricky but a sign of desperation. What I need is conjoined balance, the type of harmony that can only come from walking intuitively along that mysterious knife edge separating immanence from transcendence. Plan in place, now I ponder the impossibility of its execution. Before this Blogbook entry entirely disintegrates into misery loves company philosophizing, I will take my leave, bowing out in double-edged confusion until next time.
Good day, all. In obliging service to the greater good, I am off in search of the last safe place. Praise be She who guides my way.