This isn’t standard fare for this blog, but I have to comment on it.
Project Runway Season 4 must not have been real… this entire season was a blur to me. Looking back, all I see are candy wrappers, odd voice bubbles that say “fierce”, Jillian’s static, unhappy face, and tear-soaked sparkle hats.
Oh, and Kit’s gorgeous, smiling face. How I miss thee…
Before I get started, my PR background:
Season 1: Loved Jay. His final collection was cohesive and stunning. He deserved to win.
Season 2: Danny V. All I need to say. Oh, and Santino Rice. I enjoyed him.
Season 3: I guess I rooted for Jeffrey Sebelia.
Season 4: Kevin was my boy from day 1… then he got kicked off. The rest of the season was an excersize in unhappiness. Oh, and annoyance… Christian’s voice became increasingly grating as the season progressed.
Which leads me to the finale.
I had no idea you could win a “legitimate” fashion competition by sending 12 Honchkrows down the runway.
When did Christian’s ridiculous hat collection swell to a size that rivaled Ricky’s?
I think there were at least 8 huge black hats in that show… which isn’t a detriment apparently, as none of the judges touched on his headwear fetish. The only way the headwear could’ve been worse was if Christian used that absurd headwrap Jillian had in the semi-finale.
Here is my nutshell summation of the finale:
Rami: Gorgeous. Detailed. The most bespoke collection. It was superb.
Jillian: Jillian gets the most wearable award. I loved the knitted pieces (especially the scarf).
Christian: It was nice that his collection was sponsored by Ruffles Potato Chips… I like to see that Lays is taking interest in the fashion industry.
My vote was for Rami, but I’m no Victoria Beckham.
-Brad McKenzie.
Categories: Daily Thoughts · Writing
Legs are always the first thing to go.
I wrote the first 20 lines of this poem a few nights ago while I was trying to go to sleep.
Getting those lines out helped.
Poem on the first time policy changed inside of me.
When I go running to stay in shape
I usually bring my iPod,
but it was dead, so I left it at home.
The second I stepped outside,
Spring ripped my eyelashes out
and said “Look at what you’ve fucking missed!”
And all the scenery began to sing its name,
so the grass was going
grassgrassgrassgrassgrass.
It was annoying and repetitive,
but beautiful, like a grandfather clock
on fire in a hip-hop album.
The trees were whispering odes
to the nests inside their heads.
So, I decided to do the same.
I pulled my eyes out
like robins’ eggs
and threw them into the air
to watch them hatch into
6-inch tall kick boxers with wings,
more lithe and spritely
than I could’ve imagined my thoughts to be.
The freedom in their movement
was unbounded,
etching its way into the sidewalk
that stretched into the horizon both ways.
I stood there blinded,
listening to eternity
and I realized this forever was inside of me.
My empty sockets were forced upward
as wings tore out of my shoulder blades.
My hands turned into swarms of bees,
dancing the location of every word
that I needed for a poem.
I’ve forgotten every feeling
but the silence I hear, perpetual.
When I open the lids
where my eyes used to be,
the vibrations of eternity,
the buzzing of over-weight wings,
and the energy of one-sixbillionth God
cascades down my face
onto a book created
when I hit my knees together hard enough.
And all of this would mean nothing
without the rest of God’s
ability to dream.
<end>
I finished the poem just now.
Sleep should come easy.
Goodnight.
Categories: Daily Thoughts · Poetry · Writing
