Hi, Daddy! Hi, Taylor! Hi, Entire State of Tennessee!

Shirt- My dad's practice shirt from college football, Belt- has sorta made the rounds within my friends and family to the point where I'm not even sure anymore, Shorts- LF, FACE BAG!!!- I snapped that shit up before Taylor had a chance to think twice (i.e. vintage that I bought from Taylor), Boots- exact same situation as the aforementioned, the light-up thing is a watch. That's how it tells time. I brought it back from my trip to the Space Age, Triforce Ring- Pamela Love, Cross Bracelet- Konstantino, cause I'm a fancy lady. Told you to stop reading this part. It's just gonna get apeshittier and apeshittier.

This post is weird. I'm gonna post again tonight anyway, so, outline format, take it away...

- Sorry the outfit is a bit boring. Joey and I were in the parking lot of our local "North Texas Attempts Some Kind of Independent Film Store, Fails", realized I was wearing the OfficialTaylorConzelmanOfThingsOnHangersLeatherSmotheringBag AND the OfficialTaylorConzelmanOfThingsOnHangersGrannyBoots, so decided to go ahead, try and minimize my increasingly David Bowie-esque face (Thanks, blahbleghblah, for causing the least flattering weight loss possible!), and show you people what you really want to see. Which would be the aforementioned Conzelman Smothering Bag. We're a morbid lot, aren't we? Speaking of morbid:

  - I lucked out on a perfectly preserved antique Victorian 

    Mourning Locket yesterday. Dead hair and all. 

  - I also got another one of those shiny dead beetle lucite 

    bracelets that creep my mom out so much!

    - See, sometimes I talk about shopping.

    - Still no fashion anywhere in this post, though. I think I 

      kinda dislike fashion. My style icons are Henry Rollins and 

      Brother Ethan. Female-wise...probably the angelic girl 

      who rang me up at Half-Price Books yesterday. And Riley 

      Deaver. But see, all those people are too busy being singer/

      poets, awesome hippie brothers, mysterious book pixies, and 

      amazing singer/dancer/actresses (god, Riley, is there 

      anything you can't do?) to care about "fashion".  I should 

      have thought through this last summer when I started a 

      blog and named it, uh, FASHIONlitter. I guess I just can't

      bring myself to find "icon-status" inspiration in someone 

      I don't even know. I shall make an exception for the late, 

      great Ruth Gordon, and a fictional literary character- 

      Daisy Miller. OH! And Madeline (the blogger, not the child
      who lived in the Plaza), and Taylor, and Stephanie...ok, if 
      I start naming blog-friends this could go on all day. But I 
      can't forget Casey Strawberry Freckleface. Or Langley Meek. 
      She isn't a blogger...more of a guru of all things. Fun 
      Fact: Langley Meek has two sisters, all three of them are 
      stunningly gorgeous. Joey likes to ponder that often- not 
      in a creepy way, more from a genetic standpoint.

      - I was silly not to name this blog something more 

        creative, like my cousin, Sarah, who just started a tumblr     

        www.moonlightstarbright.tumblr.com

        - You should visit my cousin Sarah's tumblr.

        - She is that beautiful pin-up badass I featured. The 

          Zelda Fitzgerald genius Alabama native, remember?

Ok, my outline got all bonkers, and I only have a couple more things to say. 

First: just thought of a few more style icons, and I happened to notice that, once again, there's no Pixie Geldof-esque blahblahs to be found (but let's be honest and ask ourselves why, exactly, Pixie $ Geldof $ is $ a $ fashion $ icon...$$??). There's Travis Jennings Brown, who already sounds like a Hemingway-esque author (if you think I'm referring to Dree Hemingway, then I will seriously block you from my blog), but isn't quite yet. He will be our generation's Hemingway, though, and I shall supplicate at his feet. Maybe he'll let me write a rambling intro or some shit when they do his biography. I could talk about that one of those Den of Iniquity weekends. I promise there will be Simon, and Garfunkel, and naked night swimming. There might be some illicit substances, but then again, maybe we were all straight arrows. I guess you'll find out in fifty years when I write this intro. 
Last but not Least: did you know my daddy was like, a super serious football player? Fascinating factoid, eh? He played Center (?) for the Dallas Cowboys. That's why I live here. Seriously. If he'd been drafted by the Green Bay Packers, well, I'd be me, but in Green Bay. Which I imagine involves a shit-ton of turtlenecks and very little barefoot time. that scares me. 

That was basically ALL tangent. I sounded like an annoying person who took speed. And made about as much sense. Forgive me, I'm doing about five things at once. And I'm not gonna proofread (eeep!). Publish.