#Provocateur

[bitter69uk]

“If in doubt, dress up. Don’t ever dress down – you’ll be so disappointed.” 

Farewell to fashion visionary, doyenne of punk, iconoclast and provocateur, environmental activist, true eccentric British original and Tintwistle, Cheshire’s finest export, Dame Vivienne Westwood (8 April 1941 – 29 December 2022). Who else would rock up to Buckingham Palace in an exquisitely tailored suit to collect her OBE medal (like she did in 1992) – and then afterward twirl for photographers to reveal she was wearing no panties beneath? What other designer would urge the public to buy less clothes? As a punk fanatic steeped in the lore of the Sex Pistols, making a pilgrimage to the hallowed ground of Westwood’s World’s End boutique on King’s Road (with the sloping, creaking floor) when I first moved to London in 1992 was de rigueur. The shirt I wanted wasn’t in stock in my size so the salesperson sent me to the Bond Street branch, where I was served by fabulous platinum blonde cougar Jibby Beane (teetering around in extreme fetish heels and wearing a long white lace gown so sheer you could see her matching white push-up bra and thong beneath). When Beane stood behind me in the mirror and gushed that I looked “so cavalier”, she could have persuaded me to buy used tea bags emblazoned with the Westwood orb logo. The shirt cost £75 which seemed astronomical at the time. Of course, I still wear it on special occasions to this day (even on job interviews). And of course, I hung onto the bag for ages! I was always envious of friends and colleagues who’d casually remark they used to regularly spot Westwood cycling around South London with her vivid orange hair flying. I only fleetingly encountered her once: at a Christeene gig downstairs at the Soho Theatre a few years ago. Ripples of excitement went through the crowd when Westwood and her entourage arrived. Everyone knew they were in the presence of greatness!

[cuntyko]

xoxo- leo rising

[i-j0s]

[taiwantalk]

fox news is not news and is not entertainment either. fox news is a provocateur cherry picking the best time to create friction and to cause greater mayhem by falsifying information.

this matter is a perfect example. this is not freedom of speech. this is a malicious act hoping to indirectly cause bloodshed without jeopardizing their own skin.

don't be shy when you have an opportunity to clearly tell people that fox news is commercialized speech terrorism. if you're not sure why terrorism, it's because you can never tell what you may or may not have done to deserve capricious distortion of information on a massive scale against you by fox news. fox news in this case is acting also like an arsonist. setting fire just because fox news could set a fire for fun.

[cerebrodebulbos]

[i12bent]

Jens Jørgen Thorsen (Feb. 2, 1932 - 2000) was a Danish artist and provocateur who constantly challenged the art world, the bourgeosie, and general good taste. He made a controversial film about Jesus, painted canvases with his penis, and generally created happenings and situations.

Here is a conservative work by his own standards:

Bjergpasset blomstrer, guldpatter flammer, flyvende forår ved Matterhorn, April kl. 1645, no year - mixed media on canvas (Privately owned)

[weirdlookindog]

Félicien Rops (born July 7, 1833, Namur, Belgium - died August 22, 1898, Esonnes, France)

“Rops am I, virtuous am I not, hypocrite I do not deign.”

[russianreader]

Vyacheslav Luthor: A "Wallflower" Sentenced to Ten Years in Prison for "High Treason"

Vyacheslav Lutor, as seen in his online CV at Careerist.ru The Second Western District Military Court in Moscow sentenced Vyacheslav Luthor, a bank clerk from St. Petersburg, to ten years in prison after finding him guilty of charges of high treason, secret collaboration with the representative of a foreign power, and involvement in a terrorist organisation, over his alleged attempt to join the…

[cerebrodebulbos]

[cerebrodebulbos]

Es el amor. Tendré que ocultarme o que huir.

Crecen los muros de su cárcel, como en un sueño atroz.

La hermosa máscara ha cambiado, pero como siempre

es la única. ¿De qué me servirán mis talismanes: el ejercicio

de las letras, la vaga erudición, el aprendizaje de las palabras

que usó el áspero Norte para cantar sus mares y sus

espadas, la serena amistad, las galerías de la biblioteca,

las cosas comunes, los hábitos, el joven amor de mi madre,

la sombra militar de mis muertos, la noche intemporal,

el sabor del sueño?

Estar contigo o no estar contigo es la medida de mi tiempo.

Ya el cántaro se quiebra sobre la fuente, ya el hombre se

levanta a la voz del ave, ya se han oscurecido los que

miran por las ventanas, pero la sombra no ha traído la paz.

Es, ya lo sé, el amor: la ansiedad y el alivio de oír tu voz,

la espera y la memoria, el horror de vivir en lo sucesivo.

Es el amor con sus mitologías, con sus pequeñas magias inútiles.

Hay una esquina por la que no me atrevo a pasar.

Ya los ejércitos me cercan, las hordas.

(Esta habitación es irreal; ella no la ha visto.)

El nombre de una mujer me delata.

Me duele una mujer en todo el cuerpo.

Jorge Luis Borges,

El amenazado

[girliestdiary]