Video edit of Talking Trash with John Waters part 1 assembled from borrowed ideas and assorted video records from the archive.
Public domain resources:
I am my own favorite thing.
I’m standing in front of the mirror, I’m taking a picture, I’m pursing my lips and fixing my tits and creating a masterpiece via this mistress. I’m lifting my wrist to my lips and I kiss it- I am a revolution, and revolution is my favorite thing.
(My skin is my favorite thing because it took a diaspora to mix it correctly. I can’t burn in the sun but I will say this once: I am not the way you like your coffee; I am not your favorite treat. I am not chocolate mocha caramel or anything you can eat. I am my favorite thing.)
Who wants to look at me? Who wants to see my face? Who wants to use my body, fetishize my race and talk the skin down from my bones until I break and become stones? Who thinks I’m less than a person, who wants a trophy wife? Who wants to win or lose me like a carnival prize? Who wants to objectify me? Try me.
I ain’t no thing, girl. I’m doing my thing.
Here is me rambling on about "The One" for RE: The Number One
Kind of talked a lot. Had more to say and forgot haha. Hopefully this can be useful or maybe inspire someone else.
The bodies of these strangers who find their way into my bed cannot erase your shadow. Like ghosts they become surrounding me, caressing me, lips like feathers on my skin, yet I only feel the light breezes from my window. I stare at twinkling lights across the bay. I stare into the atmosphere at nothing. Your shadow is what I search for in the moon, my eyes unblinking. The ghosts grab at my body; they live yet I can't feel them. You live yet I can only feel your shadow still. I live yet I am dead in the memory of our dancing shadows across the floorboards of my room, barely still dancing behind my eyelids as I pretend to sleep. Ghosts dance around my body but I don't join them.
You are falling into me for the first time in the early morning. I have only held you in my arms a few hours but each hour felt like years and I have already grown old with you. I hear birds singing in my ears but there are none. You purr in my ear like a cat. We are like cats curled together, clawing up the furniture.This is the memory that I remember while enveloped by my sheets, the same sheets we tied around ourselves a year ago. You liked the pattern, I remember. They are worn now and the fabric has begun to pill but I still fold myself safely between them as I dream. I would rather be alone than with someone who is not you. I would rather be alone in my sheets in my tiny bed with memories of birds singing in my ears and your hips and my hips colliding and you purring like a cat and our sweat mixed together smelling of Daisy and soap.
- The Bed Song - LizSmallsified
My roomie Amanda & I made this cover a while ago, her on guitar/harmonies and me on the uke/lead.
I admire Amanda Palmer so much and am estatic that she joined hitrecord & is sharing her music with us. (:
Thought I would put this up here, not sure if it can be used for anything, but it is a remix!
This has been a long time coming.
Sorry about the microphone going off at some points and making the camera noise growl at you. The rain was not helping.
Thanks to Sel for interviewing!
Shot by CameronSmith in Central Park, NYC.