#graphically speaking

[sadandpoutyandfrench]

Firework eyes? Hell yeah I will. There's also a new exchange hair color that's so black you can barely even make out any details lol. New saving goal!

Bought the new Hysteric Bunny but just the one piece for now

And bought this which I like the best of the new year coords they just put out.

Looks like I'm gonna be farming the gold shop now

[gayrui]

Man a lot of scarlet violet just does not look good -_-

[spaceslitmag-blog]

Feelin like a superhero? :-)  Don't miss Graphically Speaking in this issue of SPACES! Jeffrey Veregge is a Native artist hailing from Port Gamble S’Klallam Tribe, and has spent most of his life on the reservation locally known as Little Boston, located near Kingston, Washington. His creative mantra is best expressed, he says, through a phrase from his tribe’s language, “taʔčaʔx̣ʷéʔtəŋ,” meaning “get into trouble.” This sense of mischief and energy is easily seen in his work, which centers around characters from comics and sci-fi/fantasy TV and film, as are other strong Native influences.

[coolnessgraphed]

[dressedinpeace-blog]

Grateful This Shirt Is Now Dead: Dava Krause

I bought it at “Graphically Speaking” on Lancaster Pike in Ardmore, PA. It would complete my fashion trifecta. A “Co-Ed Naked Lacrosse” T-shirt (Rough, tough and in the Buff), a pair sweet Umbros that stuck to my chubby little thighs and my beloved Tie-Dyed Grateful Dead T-Shirt.

My Dead T-shirt is huge and hangs limply around my torso giving me no discernable shape. But that was the style back then. You’d buy a shirt way too big and then gather it up on one side securing it with a plastic clip thingy or you’d just tuck into the front of your shorts leaving the back long and flowing.

My best friend had a Grateful Dead Tee that a lot of people had. Tie-Dyed with the infamous bears swirling inward into a vortex. I vaguely knew this image alluded to the fact that fans of The Dead took drugs that made you see stuff. But that was the extent of it. I avoided the bears because I wanted to be unique but stuck with something Tie-Dyed so as not to be too unique. (AKA; a dorcus malorcus)

The font of my shirt reads “Garcia on Broadway” and features a dragon in a top hat and cane. At the time, it was the perfect combination of trendy fashion item and opportunity to announce my undying love for Broadway. I was a major fan. It was kind of “my thing”.

As I described it just now, I had to really look at the shirt. I don’t often do that. It’s just one of those things I grab out of my drawer, smell, look around to see if anyone saw me smell it, (they did, but are too freaked out to say anything) and put on.

As the years passed, I kept it in my drawer and used it as a shirt I slept in. When I finally figured out whom the fuck The Dead were and had experienced some of the previously mentioned hallucinatory drugs, it became special on a whole other level. Sure, it was cheesy and I would never wear it in public. But by this time, it was just a permanent part of my wardrobe and hands down the softness goddamn t-shirt I owned.

The armpits are ripped. It has stains on it from three different apartments that I’ve painted and then lived in. It’s gotten pretty disgusting.

Recently my husband told me he, “always hated that shirt.” And in fact, “when you wear it, my penis literally goes inside my body.” Wow. Tell me how you really feel about it.

So, after almost twenty years of service, I must say, “so long” to my oh-so-comfy tee. I can’t throw it in the trash. I’m taking it to Goodwill. I hope a chubby young theater nerd finds it and takes it on a long strange trip with them. Or at least some homeless guy gets to experience its delightful softness.