SEO

January 16, 2020

"Did you mean: 'Lia Rivette' Akron thrift hound lounges back of '76 Lincoln" Hair and Makeup: Lia Rivette (accédé November 2016) @liarivettemakeupandhair

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GIA CARANGI AND Sandy Linter 'You Know Where You Stand, Then You Know Where to Land and If You Fall It Won’t Matter, Cuz You’ll Know That You’re Right'

https://i.ytimg.com/vi/2ZqpkKvaZsQ/hqdefault.jpg You either do or you don't

 "When the Pawn Hits the Conflicts He Thinks like a King What He Knows Throws the Blows When He Goes to the Fight and He’ll Win the Whole Thing ‘fore He Enters the Ring There’s No Body to Batter When Your Mind Is Your Might so When You Go Solo, You Hold Your Own Hand and Remember That Depth Is the Greatest of Heights and If You Know Where You Stand, Then You Know Where to Land and If You Fall It Won’t Matter, Cuz You’ll Know That You’re Right"


https://anotherimg-dazedgroup.netdna-ssl.com/1000/azure/another-prod/370/3/373099.jpg

GIA CARANGI​

 https://anotherimg-dazedgroup.netdna-ssl.com/1000/azure/another-prod/370/3/373093.jpg

Sandy Linter​


Most Famous Lesbians You May Not Know!

AND

How to Search for Anyone and Find Them First Try without looking through a lot of stupid Pinterest shit while doing it! 


^now i just fucked up my search query ["GIA CARANGI" -pinterest] same results as you get by clicking on the field below which says Google Blah Blah, fuck.  except for the one I did had "Sandy Linter" in it too, so it was, and I'll throw you an expert bone for you dogs, ["Gia Carangi" AND "Sandy Linter" -pinterest] *everything inside the box!  if you like that sort of thing. the 'AND' makes you get only results with those two persons in the same result...i have lesbians too ogle. 


You either do or you don't.


Clouded By Illusions: The Beauty Of Gia Carangi

Life and death
energy and peace
if I stopped today
it was fun.
Even the terrible pains that have burned me and scarred
my soul it was worth it for having been allowed to
walked where I’ve walked. Which was to hell on earth
heaven on earth, back again, into, under, far in between
and above it.

– Gia Carangi (1986)

The death of supermodel Gia Carangi went unreported by the press. Five days later, her funeral was a quiet affair, attended only by her immediate family, with a closed casket recommended for the woman whose exquisite face and fabulous figure had once stunned the fashion world. None of the photographers who had clamoured to capture her, or the fashionistas who excitedly watched her strut down a catwalk were there, or even knew she had died. She was certainly not the first young woman destroyed by the glamorous but notoriously fickle modelling industry, but as one fashion insider later remarked, ‘There were a lot of girls who were victims of those times — the night life, Studio 54, dancing, having fun. There were girls who took a lot of coke and destroyed their beauty, but I don’t think Gia was one of those. I think she was a victim of herself.’

Born in Philadelphia on 29th January 1960, Gia’s early life had been wrought by the unhappy marriage of her parents, Joseph Carangi, an Italian restaurateur and his wife Kathleen, who was of Welsh and Irish descent. Gia was their youngest child of three and their only daughter, although Joseph also had a son from a previous marriage. In 1971, Kathleen left the family home for good and later remarried, seeing her children at fairly irregular intervals much to the distress of her daughter, who was never able to overcome her sense of abandonment, as a friend recalled, ‘The one person Gia always wanted something from was her mother – and she just never felt like she got it.’ As well as her mother’s departure, Gia eventually revealed that she had been molested at the age of five, an experience that left her traumatised.

After being discovered by a local photographer whilst working in one of her father’s restaurants, Gia appeared in several advertisements in Philadelphia before moving to New York in 1978. Gia was signed by Wilhelmina Models straight away, with the agency’s owner Wilhelmina Cooper, who would become her mentor, enraptured by her ‘fantastically pliable face.’ One of Gia’s first assignments was for Vogue with the photographer Chris von Wangenheim in October 1978.

On that shoot, Gia met make-up artist Sandy Linter, a striking blonde woman in her late 20s, who had already made a name for herself as one of New York’s top make-up artists. Gia’s instant attraction to Linter was only intensified after the two agreed to pose nude for von Wangenheim that same day. It has often been suggested that Linter was Gia’s great love, and Linter, who has since identified herself as heterosexual, would experience a complicated and emotional relationship with Gia, remembering how, ‘She sent flowers to me, and she really sort of courted me, which I thought was adorable.’  

Gia on the other hand, had never been in any doubt about her sexual preference for women. Since her early teens, she had been open about her sexuality, something many friends and classmates spoke about to Gia’s biographer Stephen Fried, with one recalling that ‘Gia was the purest lesbian I ever met. It was the clearest thing about her. She was sending girls flowers when she was thirteen,’ and how ‘Gia just loved women and she fell for them whether they were gay or not.’ As Fried discovered, Gia’s first female lover, was a petite blonde named Sharon Beverly, whom she met at DCA, a gay club in Philadelphia, although like Linter, Beverly was exclusively heterosexual by the time Fried interviewed her. Gia wrote about the breakdown of the relationship in her journal,‘ When she kisses me I feel all four winds blow at my face/But now Sharon tell me what do you do with a woman who has no love for you! my love for her shall never die for she opens my eyes/she is my lost captive and no longer lies along my legs.’

Robert Hilton, a therapist who treated Gia also noted how she ‘had a desire for women that was so, in its essence, masculine,’ and that ‘Whenever I would tap into what she was telling me in a session about her sexuality, it was so much closer to the way that men talk about women.’ Polly Mellen sittings editor at American Vogue who worked alongside Gia recollected, ‘She was sexually very aggressive. You couldn’t room her with another female model. If you did, she made advances and the other models would come and speak with me. You had to keep her away from other beautiful girls and you had to watch her carefully if she went out at night – if you were going to see her the next day and not hear that she was laying in another girl’s bed somewhere in the city.’ Mellen was also struck by Gia’s androgyny, which allowed her to ‘be the sexiest thing and still cross the line of boyishness.’ This quality was something Gia herself recognised, and attributed to the fact that, as a child she has been a tomboy because ‘I thought that if I was a boy, my father would love me.’

During the late 1970s, Gia’s career was in the ascendant and she became one of the world’s most in-demand models. But the new decade would bring about her shocking decline into drug abuse, obscurity and an untimely death. In March 1980, Wilhelmina Cooper died of lung cancer at only 40 years of age, leaving Gia devastated as she wrote in her journal, ‘I don’t know what is happening in my life, nothing seems or feels right to me. I want to live so bad. But I’m so terribly sad. I wish Wilhelmina didn’t die. She was so wonderful to talk to about work. I cry every day for a little while. I wish I knew what to do … I pray that things fall into place.’

A drug user since her teens, Gia had dabbled with marijuana and Quaaludes, with one observer remembering how early in her career on a shoot in Mustique, a man had approached Gia, raving about her beauty, to which she replied ‘If I look so fucking good why don’t you get me a joint?’ He returned with one, which Gia proceeded to smoke in front of everyone. However, to cope with the loss of Wilhemina, Gia’s drug use not only increased, she also began using harder substances, her 1980 appointment book featuring a misspelt note reminding her to ‘Get Herion.’ Gia’s frequent visits to New York hot spots such as Studio 54 and The Mudd Club, where drug use was common, only contributed to her growing dependency.

By 1981, Gia had developed a full-blown heroin addiction with her erratic behaviour severely affecting her professional life, as hair stylist Harry King admitted, ‘She scared me a little bit . . . There was something about her that made me feel uneasy. I used to say . . . ‘She has a demon inside of her.’ In March 1981, Chris von Wangenheim was killed in a road accident, leaving Gia distraught and only weeks later she was arrested after a police chase in which she was found to be driving under the influence of a narcotic.

Gia had also begun a relationship with Elyssa Golden, a student and fellow drug user who said of their initial meeting, ‘I almost passed out. She was wearing her usual outfit and had a Heineken in her hand and I had never come into contact with anybody who was that stereotypically homosexual.’ In the relationship, Elyssa claimed that Gia was ‘very old-fashioned. She was like an Italian guy from the old school. I’d say Gia made me into a nice girl. I never knew what love was or good sex was. We lived together in a husband-and-wife type of thing. I was the wife, she was the dominant one, although sometimes she was just like a child.’ Like Linter and others who knew her, Elyssa remembered how Gia embraced her sexuality and that ‘She liked being gay. She loved women and cars, that’s what she told me. ‘Blondes,’ she would say, ‘I love blondes.’ Although swamped by the attentions of Italian aristocrats, rock stars and famous actors, all Gia wanted was a woman who genuinely loved her, with ‘a nice hot body and some big lips. Forget everything else.’

After several unsuccessful attempts to quit drugs, Gia left New York in early 1982 and entered into a 21-day detox programme in Philadelphia where she limited contact with both her mother and Elyssa. Though her drug use had negatively affected her career, Gia’s magnetic sexuality and outstanding images meant that New York’s fashion set were prepared to give her another chance. However, back in the city, the temptations were too great; she soon resumed her heroin habit and was dropped by Elite only three weeks after signing with the agency. In April 1982, Gia made her last appearance on a magazine cover when she was photographed by Francesco Scavullo for Cosmopolitan. Scavullo had been supportive of Gia since he first worked with her in the late 1970s and used his influence in the hope of kick-starting her comeback, for he believed ‘There’s only been maybe 3 girls in my whole career that have walked into my studio and I went ‘wow’. Gia was the last who came in here and I said ‘wow.’



for YankaMarie Duarte-Warren​, who used to like different stuff too, like me and you do, and thankfully hasn't doesn't, at least, right now now, but still does things way better, it would be impertinent to say something sincere and earnest about something positive and pronounced as what and how she does what she does now, because she can't do what she did anymore (and that's just the easy part): 


God Love Brazil!


Michael Jackson went strolling around the worst favella in Brazil at 4 AM (with 50 bodyguards); you won't be dancin' with the man in the mirror...anyway.


thanks, Yanka, for the positivity injection cut with pure inspiration, which led to my reposting the sad, sexy, ultimately self-soothing, unfortunately, not soon or necessary enough ending in Gia's untimely death and strange but seemingly fitting continuing beauty/fierce smize. 


if you can get there, story of tragic, supermodel, drug addict, Gia RIP, and her still very-much alive lover, Sandy; and should you be inspired, watch the truly scary portrayal of Gia by none other than a very young Angelina Jolie, which if you are wearing any by then, will scare the pants off of you with a little shot of Angie and what Brad's dealing with every day of his life for the next 20 years.  Jon Voigt is barely able to be a Republican asshole anymore, she traumatized him just enough to vote for you know who...and for the art project. 

And if you are obeying curfew or with a roommate and also liked my SEO, and have a brain which is good at taking form and subbing something for your own usefulness in its place, thereby keeping  form, as close as it works for you, but inventing the thing which makes you, you,  using it for your own purpose, and giving it to some clueless person who thinks SEO is Sex England Oxford. 

Now go use my search hack even if you hate something more prolifically soul-killing than Pinterest

[(for example, I have been known to search for a song with the minus dash firmly in front and therefore negating any possibility of me not receiving that result e.g., "johnny dang" -rap)].

[I'm assuming those Facebook Search Results will all be family photos or family Picnics in the greater DFW area, with less bling and more Basil, less flossin' and more flossing]. 

(up there somewhere)...for crowding up your results page, here's all you do:  copy and paste this one space away from the last quoted name or phrase like this, or just search this verbatim, save it to your bookmarks, and when you need to do a search on something else, replace the two beautiful lesbians with whatever it is you find more interesting.  BTW, this search is from Google Images.  It works even more surgically on the main Google's search results, although there aren't as many Pinterest hits there; however, you're right, you can substitute any offending site for the exact place where 'pinterest' is placed (1 space behind the last quotation mark and one small dash (minus) with no space after and attached to the word or site you really don't want to see.

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January 14, 2020

Elvis Presley, Friedrich Nietzsche: Thus Spoke Zarathustra (for Tracy Lords and her 'children of the night')


 

Elvis Presley used the opening fanfare as the opening piece in his concerts between 1971 and his death in 1977, and as the introduction to several of his live albums, including Elvis: As Recorded at Madison Square Garden (1972), Aloha from Hawaii Via Satellite (1973), and Elvis in Concert (1977). 

 
...testosterone-uterine confusion set in space the likes not seen then since that early ACC prequel preordinal psychic-futurity, 2001, whose Hal was no hammerhead, but could creep out a crowd just by sheer monotony and as Elvis learned, the narcotic spell of 'Also Sprach Zarathustra,' hitting four tones more magiscule than whomever, but never, nien, did it for its co-creators, Strauss and Nietzsche, somehow from after which this piece famously comes and comes to be equally named (extremely competently), 'Thus spoke Zarathustra,' would most certainly, too-Teutonic to disagree, be inspiration for one of Elvis's Jewish guys, the one conducting the orchestra, no less than Elvis's 'Sable on Rye'-guy, Maestro Joe Guerico whose life's work was for Elvis and for Elvis was Joe's easy comprehension that sartorial majesty, purples and golds, Edwardian collars and greatcoats not for show, for the potentate whose shit they fit: equal to the majestic misty castles whose spires rose out of that ever green Black Forrest, where another Royal figure cut a swath slightly more insane, His German King, Highness , in his arched arbor.

This tribute, though posthumously puissant, was for not one, but both Kings (*I will spare you the long Jungian grandiosity I considered of these two Kings, their two tributes written to them and of them.)

 And it will never be an invention too weak for its subject, or its perfect subject's achievement, a never-too-weak, fully Vegas Hilton Orchestration, fully inappropriate and unprecedented, preshow encore (Joycean epiphany before the first chapter begins).

 And then there was that, and more than that there could not be, but less would not have been enough; thanks to a bizarrely pantsuited Jewish hipster, whose gold dangled as freely down his hairy open shirt, but whose beard gave him an oddly right-on vibe of something between a big time bandman, Lenny Bruce, and an Orchard Street haberdasher, but whose hip-city swagger saw him wield that baton like a joint where he put the first purpled goosebumps up and under those miniskirts at matinee, forget nights, night after night, until Elvis sidestepped out, out through that crashing clashing collision that could only meant he was there, where he made them and those goosebumps go for the softest flesh where they'd stay.

Also sprach Zarathustra AND Thus Spoke Zarathustra or Thus Spake Zarathustra)...article is about the musical work Richard Strauss, 1894. For Nietzsche after which this piece is named, see Thus Spoke Zarathustra.


For other uses, see Also sprach Zarathustra (disambiguation).

Also sprach Zarathustra, Op. 30 (German: About this soundlisten), Thus Spoke Zarathustra or Thus Spake Zarathustra) is a tone poem by Richard Strauss, composed in 1896 and inspired by Friedrich Nietzsche's philosophical novel of the same name.


The composer conducted its first performance on 27 November 1896 in Frankfurt. A typical performance lasts half an hour.

The initial fanfare – titled "Sunrise" in the composer's program notes – became well known after its use in Stanley Kubrick's 1968 film 2001: A Space Odyssey.


.@firefox sends #AdolphHitler #AleisterCrowley [maybe @Windows or ] to #accessibility way into my #video which becomes 'first known use of #PlusOne' 1977
Merriam-Webster.com ask, @t https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/plus-one

14 January 2020


⸮ [I wrote about 1979's Alien sequel, the 1986 timorously titular Debutante Bal with a presumably ofay chaperone, plus-une pour Le Crillon Bal Debutante, (yes, it really was given the name) "Aliens" [recte malmonikered] (eponymous ⸮ formulaic,

№ 1st < № 2nd, scatological, supervenient and ponderous, pluralized, superordinal and 7-years-too-late for recovering from a long bout of amnesia...forget it).


 Directed by James Cameron,

https://visualguidanceltd.blogspot.com/2020/01/aliens-recte-malmonikered-alien-sequel.html

'Aliens,' I now judge his least equal worst sequel by name, existence, told for love, money, franchise, or 'the rule of three'...

 but i said it better last night...

"...the word I'd used to describe 'Aliens,' the word for a color for which I can never not get no satisfaction choosing, but one I chose, laid down, and which word magically transformed into a telescope of white and gold, which then turned into an objets d'art, in an exhibit in Toronto, just today.



Here's an excerpt from my this morning, tonight: a 35-year-old film review turns into what turns out to be a maelstrom of my mind:


"...First-of-its-kind, never-to-be-outdone horror, action, arty (All that Jazz), comedic (Tootsie), Cameron would revive the great sci-fi femme role with balls and big guns to shrink Arnold S's in this
.................
...featuring the Giger-perfect multi-useful prop-Alien whose bitumen sleek impression comes first and best from Giger's Enzo Ferrari-attention to detail and depth which makes his epidermis as luxe as Enzo's calf's leather is lilting, but instead of the color of peanut butter, it's a ruminant Stephen Hawkings Albert Einstein badinage on the inside folded black hole after dinner over tepid deathless sips of Lavazza, its stilling, starless patina, inscintilate mal-hued, guilty en absentia, insensate, where no lights reflect, they absorb...
'Black is the badge of hell, / The hue of dungeons, and the suit of night.' -- Shakespeare

The maw Hitchcock never saw and only Lynch would touch later (but whose black magick gleam to match that in his eye, Phillip Anger would come closest in his Candy Apple polished neon bloody Carbon Monoxide Snow White red depths only morticians and funeral director's know, and only when their decedent has succumbed from the 'dead red' bright, pearlecent sheen, a lurid lipstick lascivious, clangorous hued fire engine coruscating Toro to all but the most color-impaired or unprepared bulls, whose sword makes them see red."

mrjyn
 



under those miniskirts at matinee, forget nights, night after night, until Elvis sidestepped out, out through that crashing clashing collision that could only meant he was there, where he made them and those goosebumps go for the softest flesh where they'd stay
3

 'In-Scintilate' brass, glass beads, crystal & standard glass. [I wrote about 1979's Alien sequel, the 1986 timorously titular Debutante Bal with a presumably chaperone or ofay plus one for Le Crillon, (yes, it really was given the name) "Aliens" [recte malmonikered] (eponymous ⸮ formulaic, № 1st < № 2nd, scatological, supervenient and ponderously pluralized superordinal and 7-year-too-late franchisee who either lost his way or suffered a long bout of temporary amnesia, forget it).

 Directed by James Cameron, 'Aliens,' I now quickly judge, be the least equal worst sequel by name, by existence, ever told for love or money...

 but i said it better last night...

And then the word I'd used to describe the Alien, the word for a color I can not get no satisfaction ever choosing finally, but the one I thought up, decided on, and laid down, magically transformed into a telescope, and one of white and gold, which then turned into an objet d'art in an exhibit in a gallerist's space in Toronto just today.

Here's an excerpt from my word salad this morning:


"...First-of-its-kind, never-to-be-outdone horror, action, arty (All that Jazz), comedic (Tootsie), Cameron would revive the great sci-fi femme role with balls and big guns to shrink Arnold S's in this testosterone-uterine confusion set in space the likes not seen then since that early ACC prequel preordinal futurity, 2001, whose Hal was no hammerhead, but could creep out a crowd just by sheer monotony and as Elvis learned, the narcotic spell of 'Also Sprach Zarathustra' hitting all the tones better, more magiscule than whomever Spieldberg's guy was, but not better than #JoeGuerico, whose life's work for Elvis, at least, will always be the inspired treatment he was called to compose and did along with full Las Vegas Hilton Orchestra, and then there was no other tune more than that, thanks to a bizarrely pantsuited Jewish hipster whose gold fell just as freely down his hairy chest, but whose beard gave him an oddly right vibe of something between a Vegas bandman and an Orchard Street haberdasher, but whose hip city swagger saw him wield a baton like a joint and put the first gooseflesh under the miniskirts of the night, night after night, until Elvis came out and made em stay.


...featuring the Giger-perfect multi-useful prop-Alien whose bitumen sleek impression comes first and best from Giger's Enzo Ferrari-attention to detail and depth which makes his epidermis as luxe as Enzo's calf's leather is lilting, but instead of the color of peanut butter, it's a ruminant Stephen Hawkings Albert Einstein badinage on the inside folded black hole after dinner over tepid deathless sips of Lavazza, its stilling, starless patina, inscintilate hued in absentia where no light reflects but absorbs itself...

 'Black is the badge of hell, / The hue of dungeons, and the suit of night.'

 maw Hitchcock never saw and only Lynch would touch later (but whose black magick gleem to match that in his eye, Phillip Anger would come closest in his Candy Apple polished, neon-blood CO2 Snow White-red depth, only morticians and funeral director's know, and only when the decedent has succumbed from the 'dead red' so bright; its pearlescent sheen luridly lascivious, clangorous, coruscating Toro sees the most impaired, or unprepared for matadors and bulls whose swords make them red, then forever black, then just dead."

mrjyn
i felt weird. here's what they said in 1911:

... vaporous, nubiferous, muggy. smoky, fumid, murky, dirty. Semitransparent , milkiness, opalesce. ...



Roget's International Thesaurus - Page 121 -

Christopher Orlando Sylvester Mawson - 1911 - ‎English language.
... vaporous, nubiferous, muggy. smoky, fumid, murky, dirty. 427. Semitransparency. _ N. semitransparency, opalescence, milkiness, 353. V. opalesce. 428. Color ...

coal black ebony India jet jet-black midnight onyx pitch sable white color [WS] Thesaurus:black (adjective) Thesaurus:dark colour “431
614 bytes (38 words) - 13:03, 6 December 2017
Thesaurus:black
atramentous black black as a dog's guts black as coal black as Newgate's knocker black as night black as the ace of spades black as thunder coal black ebon inky
2 KB (93 words) - 22:58, 9 March 2019
Thesaurus:color
blee color colour hue shade tincture tint black [WS] white red green blue yellow orange brown pink purple violet scarlet magenta coffee [WS] Category:Colors
926 bytes (42 words) - 13:04, 6 December 2017
Thesaurus:person of color
minority (US) nonwhite (uncommon) person of color (politically correct) African-American Afro-American black [WS] brownie coon (offensive) darkey (offensive)
1 KB (78 words) - 08:51, 17 November 2017
Thesaurus:dark colour
wine [WS] Thesaurus:black (adjective) Thesaurus:black color (noun) “dark” in Roget's Thesaurus, T. Y. Crowell Co., 1911. “428. color” in Roget's Thesaurus
1 KB (90 words) - 00:34, 7 August 2018
Thesaurus:colored (section Sense: having a color)
multicolored [WS] tinted [WS] — black [WS] blue brown gray green orange purple red white yellow “428. color” in Roget's Thesaurus, T. Y. Crowell

 σκοτεινός ιππότης
[common]
skoteinós ippótis dark knight
Similar Words
λανθασμένος adjective, noun
[uncommon]
lanthasménos wrong, mistaken
αμαρτωλός adjective, noun
[uncommon]
amartolós sinful, sinner, trespasser, peccant, peccable
ιερόσυλος adjective
[uncommon]
ierósylos sacrilegious
ανήθικος adjective
[uncommon]
aní̱thikos immoral, bawdy, profligate, obscene, nonmoral
άθρησκος adjective
[uncommon]
áthriskos irreligious, unreligious
ανίερος adjective
[uncommon]
aníeros unholy, unhallowed, sacrilegious
άδικος adjective
[uncommon]
ádikos unfair, unjust, unrighteous, wrong, wrongful
άνομος adjective
[uncommon]
ánomos lawless, nefarious, illegal, iniquitous
ασεβής adjective
[uncommon]
asevís irreverent, ungodly, impious, blasphemous, regardless
κακός adjective
[uncommon]
kakós bad, evil, ill, wicked, mischievous

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