I thought Tumblr would work out for me. It didn’t. I’m not amused by the plagiarism, and the general disregard people seem to have for citing sources. I fucking hated MLA formatting in high school and college, but my adult life has really shown me how important citing research and sources actually is. Whoah, adulthood… take it easy. I’m not ready! Anyway, I love the ease of Tumblr but ick, not into seeing my photos appear in streams to realize that I have not been credited for them. This is how David Lachapelle must have felt when he saw Rihanna’s “S&M” video. Or when Pieter Hugo and Ed Kashi saw Beyonce’s video “Run With the Wind” or the 5,000,000 times other people have cried “fair use” when it hasn’t really been fair use. Yeah, that’s effing right, this post is about me comparing use of my iPhone photos of Earnest to that of famed photographers.

Plagiarism is crap. My high school English teacher accused me of plagiarism my junior year when I wrote one kick ass paper on Edward Hopper. She spent the year assigning bull shit papers on things like characters from the Great Gatsby and analyzing Aldous Huxley and then must have had a stroke when she decided to give us the assignment to go to a museum, view some works, and then write about it. God, was she pissed when I  wrote about Nighthawks and said something about the woman being very “sylph-like”.  The idea that I could compute a thought like that pissed her off. I totally wrote that paper on my own. My blood still boils thinking about it. Being accused of plagiarism when it is not the case blows, but being one who plagiarizes is almost as stupid as mugging a girl ’cause you’re hungry. Yeah, that’s right, that’s why I was robbed in broad daylight on July 7. We’ll cover that story next week.

Anyway. Here I am. Back to the motherland! Anyone that’s known me before New York knows that The Adventures of Eleanor Rigby was hosted on WordPress before some fuckwad fascist got his panties in a bunch and guilted me into privatizing my blog because he told me I sounded like a whore (I wholly disagree). Sometimes I really miss the days of 1704 in Philadelphia, blogging furiously at my desk while Stephanie watched from across the room, and then listening to her laugh while she read. Those days were good. Well, except for the crying in bathroom stalls in Terra,  sometimes just wanting to crawl in bed and die, and realizing that I registered for an 8:30AM ballet class on Mondays.

I’m glad to be back in a cyberworld where writing in complete sentences is applauded, where I hopefully won’t have a bunch of pornorrific girls “liking” my posts about cookies and my mom’s birthday, and where there are more than 5 idiot-proof buttons to customize. THANK YOU LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!


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