I no longer wear pants.

A post about Bon Iver and girly clothes.

Pants are for suckers. Dresses are the new and the fresh and the hot.
I will be wearing one when I attend THIS:



and THIS (it's 3:00 PST right now; I could still make it to The Apple in time if you'd loosen up your grip on the keys to your jet, papa):


Listen, the point of the post is this (other than I need to see Bon Iver at the cemetery or I will cease to continue living):
Dresses are girly and being a girl is fun. There's the psychological wear and tear of hearing dudes say rude things to you when you walk down the street, there’s some income disparity, old white men want to be able to tell you what to do with your reproductive parts, and we are abused and exploited all across this great planet of ours; however, overall, it’s great. I mean, every song with “she” as its primary pronoun is, of course, about you. It’s pretty fantastic; I’m not gonna lie.

Here's David Byrne singing about his giant crush on me:

Talking Heads - "And She Was"

mp3.



.
.
.