Electricity Over Manifest Desitny

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I was gratious enough to allow myself to but the Febuary issue of Vogue recently, whereas I noticed the psudeo-fresh faced model Arizona Muse, who looks alot like many of the models that have come and gone. I'm in no position (yet) to say who looks good enough to model, because beauty is a perception of thought. But it did inspire me more on my translucent, hipster charged poetry and write an epic poem about a not so fashionable girl in the mid 70's who goes on the road, Jack Kerouac style. The story is told through a woman's point of view, not a horny guy who mooches and drains everyone around him. She's everything he is done better, with more self distuction and adventure, planned yet non articulated. On another note, don't expect me to post any pictures of myself and the clothing I wear. It's useless to me now, and I feel as if I don't need to share such information. It's impersonal, because it's like I'm only wanting you to look at me and me only.
Not for content.
Not for art.

The electricity is symbological for her persona; electrifiying and sharp. She thinks clearly yet she's still confused, like me, on what is real and not real, but only because she's so bored with everything that she starts trouble for herself and the people around her. She's coniving against her enemies and wipes out their whole families, whereas that's where the story takes off, forcing her to go on the fun and be a fugitive on the road. Her wardrobe is filled with quentisential 70's pieces from Chloe, Rochas, MiuMiu, Proenza Schouler, and Marc Jacobs. She has one Longchamp bag that she carries all of her belongings in, writing about her adventures that will never get published and that will all be lost like tears in the rain.

Manifest Destiny
She's out to take what she feels is rightfully her's:
the world.

Look out world, I'm taking you by storm.
-Ashley xxx



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