twenty twenty twenty-four hours to go.

Happy what would have been your 24th birthday, Pat! I miss you dude.

I feel your sarcastic older brother guidance all the damn time. I know smoking is bad for me, but your advice just isn’t that convincing when you say it with a cigarette dangling from your lips. I still remember the time you ceremoniously threw out a pack of Newports in front of me, Danny, and Mom just to show us you could quit anytime. Although maybe you just realized what I already knew at age fifteen: Newports suck.

I can still remember what your voice sounds like when you were trying to make a joke, and your stock answer to anyone stating their humble opinion: “Well, your opinion is wrong.”

I can remember exactly what your face looked like when you were lying – the same way it looked when you were trying not to laugh.

Someday I’ll have the strength to think about you as much as you deserve, and write it all down, or dance it all out. I will create something massive and dedicate it to you. But all I can do now is a little reminiscing.

I think of you anytime I see any of the following: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Roger Ebert, horror movies particularly anything Stephen King-related, Archie comics, Tales from the Crypt, Metallica, Slayer, and any metal-ey looking fonts. I have you to blame for my taste for the macabre in film, and probably for my dirty sense of humor (although I think the real culprit for this was Dad).

Thanks for letting me be a tag-along little sister and giving me the most random of memories: the first time ever getting drunk at a bonfire I wasn’t supposed to be at, Mountain Dew-themed parties with chugging contests and Roger Waters DVDs, the Oatmeal Creme Pie-throwing madness of Pattie’s Pancake Posse performances, countless sweaty deadofwinter and between the nightmares shows from the Armistice Room to the Legacy to the funeral home to Hip Christian Churches, and an equal number of post-show gatherings that tested the patience of waitstaff at Denny’s locations everywhere. Once all our best friends were the same people, we couldn’t help but admit we must be friends too, as much as that complicated our years of mutual disdain for one another.

Are you having fun in the free world? How’s your namesake Uncle Pat, and Grandma? Have you written any good music lately? Did you ever figure out what you wanted to do in life, and if so, how does that translate to the afterlife? Do you still drink 3-4 cans of Mountain Dew a day or have you finally grown up and switched to coffee? Are you mad at me about anything? Is there anything I could have done differently? I know I was a tattletale but in the later years I promise it was only in your best interest. (I have no excuse about earlier years when tattling was employed solely to make myself look better.) Also, the “Party Hard” mix you left in my car is dangerously scratched up, is there any way you could hook me up with some more expertly arranged CKY, Andrew W.K. and Faith No More? Let me know.

In honor of Patrick M. Burkett, January 31st, 1986-March 18, 2006:
-My dad’s saxaphone-playing alter-ego “PapaPatty” and the Blues for Patty Project
-A retrospective by my mom Zann Carter, about the years leading up to Patrick’s death
-Light a candle in Patrick’s memory
-Donate to the Patrick M. Burkett memorial fund via The Maple Center.

Images:
1. Pat in Between the Nightmares, taken by Matt Carmer
2. Pat on top of the world, taken by Amanda Jones
3. Pat (age 7) & me (age 5) playing chess, taken by our mom
4. Pat and our friend Katie at deadofwinter’s last show, taken by me
5. Teenage Mutant Ninja Pat! My first tattoo by D’Wan, Under the Gun. Polaroid by me.

why do you let me stay here?

Listen to She & Him – Why Do You Let Me Stay Here while reading to get the most out of this very Zooey Deschanel-inspired outfit.

Sometimes Zooey’s mass appeal, indie girl brand of cute is vomit-enducing, but the truth is she’s got a pretty voice and she makes lovable movies. (Impromptu dance sequence?!!! Dare you to resist.) Although I do believe her best work to date is her impeccable delivery of the line “THIS IS A HOUSE OF LIES!” in a certain best-movie-of-all-time.

 

Credits:
-Urban Outfitters skirt
-forgettable-mallstore shirt
-thrifted maryjane heels (my highest to date!)
-Hanna Anderson ribbed tights (stolen from my mom)

 

Side note: Going to Chicago for a long weekend to hang with my bestie Kyle. Expect so much fun when I return!

moonchild

My history of photography teacher spoke the other day about how striking it is to see how differently self-portrait photographers see themselves over time. So when we were given a self-portrait assignment, I deliberately put myself in the most organized looking part of my apartment to contrast my usual beauty-in-chaos habits and channel a new me. (Compare these images with old self-portraits like this and you’ll see what I mean!)

These were taken the night of the new moon, so the moment was just right for playing dress-up and taking photographs. I had bought new flowers and candles and was working on a list of wants for the coming year, which included giving my all to career projects such as this website. It definitely felt like I was harnessing the powerful energy spinning around!

I’m not sure I am quite this lady yet — calm but inventive, totally in control but a little wild, always transforming but still loving the now — but surely this little ritual will help me get there.

Credits:
-vintage faux fur coat
-thrifted slip
-Forever 21 studded belt (zips off, always causing quite a stir as you might imagine)
-Old Navy tights
-Payless heels (is discussion even necessary anymore about how much Payless is rocking it nowadays?!)

As always, these images plus outtakes are on my Flickr.

photobooth rookie

Umm I know I’m a little late on the Photobooth tip, but to settle a bet (“THAT IS TOO SMALL TO BE A CAMERA IN THERE!”) I checked it out, and… oh man. Nerdtastic experience commenced. I didn’t even dip my toes into that vast pool of special effects!!! Expect many-a computer lab photo shoot in the future. You excited?

More here!

Cardigan slash backdrop: Wet Seal bargain rack
Whimsical hairbow: H&M
Fakers (but I have contacts in!): A.J. Morgan
Black dress & plaid scarf: Goodwill

$7007 or 6 months free in New York City

I’ve truly turned over a new leaf. When I saw a friend of a friend had entered an artist’s competition calling for self-portraits (hell-oo!), my normal reaction would be to flip my shit, thinking of all the time and energy I should have put into Serious, Artsy Picturetaking in 2009 instead of… whatever it was I did in 2009. (Oh right, drink.)

But instead of getting jealous, I got inspired. Needless to say inspiration feels much better when not coupled with raging envy. I decided to just make do with what I have, which is actually a somewhat striking representation of my growth from cranky emo kid to confident Pollyanna. It’s not about winning the contest (though the prizes are PERFECT, see title of this post), but about proving to myself that it’s actually time to put what I make out into the world, instead of hiding it away in my notebooks and memory cards, waiting for the perfect moment to arrive. The perfect moment is now! Always always always now.

Go here to vote:

Artistswanted.org/mollyburkett

 
To add to the just-do-it tip, this post marks my official return to the blogosphere! I’ve been stockpiling photos for the past few months and can’t wait to share them all. Yay! A big thanks to my friend Aya of Strawberry Koi for inspiring me to get back in the game.

my apartment, lately.

Surprise tulips from a sweet boy, roses for the new moon, thrifted gems, and artmaking every day with said sweet boy. Don’t mind the cigarette butts — life is fresh.