National Disgrace

by Rachel Lynch in ,


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They call me a jerk, once they get to know me. But they don't stop calling, they read me well. It's no work if I was phony, I'd win a trophy. Who needs to make rent when there's seeds to sell. Freak the bell, and make it all spin crooked. Grab the tree by the limb and shook it, like "Have you seen my self esteem, where the hell you'd put it?"

Oh wait, never mind, I found it in a bottle, drunk at the Gramercy Hotel talking to a model. Wrecked the rental on Santa Monica Boulevard.

It's all about the hangovers, and late checkouts. Maid banging on the door like, "Wake Up! Get Out!" But come on mami, y'all probably don't want me comin' out like a zombie brushing teeth in the lobby. This is a career, not a hobby. Ain't no reason to fear what you wanna see. Hey Paparazzi, don't you wanna watch me quote the Wayne and then crash his new Bougatti?

Sweat pants, t-shirt, mesh hat, feeding Jack D. to a room full of teenie boppers. Howdy neighbor, take a shot for flavor. Let's debate whether or not we should punch the waiter. I'm just kidding, let's love each other. It goes click, filter, pick, and upload another. Do what you like, don't nobody care. It's a sign of success, only in America.

clothing by Pretty Snake

makeup by Danielle Bisbano

hair by Torie Bliss

photos by Brittanny Taylor

special thank you to the Dean Hotel