DON'T THEY EVER!!!!!
WOW.
huh!
WOW!
What a rush.
What a fool.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
CHRISTMAS?
BRILLIANT! BRILLIANT! BRILLIANT!
When I luckily stumbled over this book earlier this year, I had no idea who Joeseph Szabo was. None. Not an inch. And now....captivated. Almost Grown is an intense ride through photographs and poetry, into the innocence and purity of teens in the 70's & 80's, when emotions are a weight, and coping is done with with little patience and the pulsing party veins are overloaded with sex, booze, cigarettes and oodles of crazy tough cool. It's a ride. It's beautiful, beautiful ride I'm glad I'm past, but secretly wishing I had my mitts on. The book is now said to be a collectors item and fetches a few hundred dollars if you're born under a lucky star. He published a few other books which are below mentioned.
ALMOST GROWN
All the pain rips your heart apart
But i'm here
I'll hold you
Shelter you from the wind
I can make it stop raining on your soul
Look into my heart
There the sun glows
I'll open up for you
I'll let you in
Just try
Test it
Touch on the surface and submerge yourself in my love
I promise you
The deeper you fall
The tighter I'll hold
I'll fill the holes you've drilled
If only you'll throw the drill away
─ Jill Newman
Today is Jane's birthday.
She is 18.
Jane wanted to buy beer to celebrate.
She always gets proofed.
I never get proofed because if it's the old guy behind the cash register,
I ask him how many kids does he have and if it's a young guy I smile and talk of wavy brown hair.
Jane doesn't do that and that's why she can't buy beer.
Today, though, she can but the guy at the cash register is really stoned out and doesn't ask for her proof - just her money.
Jane askes him if he wants to see her proof.
He thinks she's under ages and makes her put the beer back.
She comes out crying.
I have to go in and buy beer.
─ Sue Sipos
Warm glow throughout humid night.
Tired collapse drifts onto shadow-hidden faces.
Could the answer be the discount panels 691-0061
Or the sign that says perhaps one way?
To where can we go?
Sitting on the sidewalk?
No cigarettes clenched between dirty finger?
headlights in the the distance pass judgement.
Oh thoughtful America.
They threw lit cigarettes in the mailbox.
─ Diane Ryan
TEENAGE
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
I'm not gonna spend my life being a colour party. Gillian & Caroline.
Type St parties....siiickest.
I've just randomly met some guy through work who i noticed had the same address, and I was like...'um, so. 45 Type St. That's weird. A bunch of my friends used to live there' and he was like 'yeah, i still get their mail every week.' I think we should all hang. That'd be cool.
Monday, December 14, 2009
johannes schwartz publications make me froth
I am an avid creamer for seamless layouts. Incredible. Clean. Charming. Beautiful. And I must say, I'm paticularly abducted by the reference to past eras. I so wish I could be more original. Vintage is everybody's cup of tea. I live in the past. It's ridiculous. So!....These were delicious publications created for photographer Johannes Schwartz during the exhibitions he had participated in between 2003 and 2007. The typography seals the deal. Don't you think? My particular favourite is the photographs taken of the ruins of the Dutch Pavillion in Hanover. These were taken for 'Now and Again', an exhibition exploring the concept of the past in 2005. After taking the photos they named them 'High Noon' and created the publication as exactly that. A tower of images. So on one side there was imagery, and on the other side text. What I find sexy about each publication, is they ran with a similar theme of vintage fury images and retro typography, but were folded in a different way for each series. Some even containing an amalgamation of folded things. Delish! We do love a good fold. And we do love a slight change in plans but still corresponding. I bet you the stock smells amazing. And the ink! oooh, the ink.
2000 ▲
I was just going through a few old things of mine today and i happened to stumble across a cute little drawing I remember doing in 2000 in the living area, snuggled into the probably bong water sofa, listening to tool beneath the wall to wall windows and the magestic garden that swallowed them. It's been almost ten years. Can you even believe it. Ten years. The weed just aint the same these days.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
" The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time. The ones who never yawn or say a common place thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"Jack Kerouac
EVERY ROSE HAS ITS THORN
The beauty in beauty is beauty I once thought.
But I am far from right. It's much more complex than that. Or is it? Not a single day slides where the things I find the most beautiful don't fascinate me. Everything is beautiful. But is there a beauty in fear? Yes. Is it as simple as that? Well, I'm unsure. What makes fear beautiful, or interesting? It's beginning to unravel. I'd say, its the intensity and the reaction. Though when you meet eye to eye with fear, beauty, is the last thing you see. You see fear. Fear fear. A gentle human reaction would be to shy away from the unknown. And that's what fear is. A man without a face. Who knows what he looks like. If you can taste him. Trust him. Converse. So, you shy away. And that there is what's so intriguing. How does one react differently to another. Whom is affraid of what and why? Experience? Definately. Or lack of. Precisely. I think to be intrigued is to feel beauty on the other side. And this is what I am discovering. Curious as a cat, I've always been drawn to unusual, awkard objects or situations. The challenge is alluring. Sexy. We each take steps to protect ourselves. Each different from the other. Some draw a sword, others close their eyes. I am about to stare fear in the face. And I am about to shy away. But it's for my own well being. My health - or so it seems. I don't know what will happen. I'm scared of the result. But it's so beautiful learning about myself. Watching myself fall and then dusting myself off. But is it really that simple? Falling. Dusting. I'm still a baby. I'm learning to try everything. To put it in my mouth. To see if it's poisonous. One would think that in itself was fearless. I wish it was that easy.
I'm sitting here. Afraid. Excited. Exhausted. Hungry. I'd be sound. But rather upside down. But atleast I'm trying. And I'm listening. Is there beauty in lying down?
Things I may try first:
+ biting the head off a Barbie Doll
+ squeezing the cat's fur until my teeth break
+ 1 litre of Chatreuse in one breath
+ popping my mattress in the grand piano and tapping my toe on B Flat until the rain comes
─ Image by Andre Kertsz ( now that is beautiful )
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
benjamin lees
Yay. This is brilliant. Although the size of the toothpaste to me, possibly could've been smaller. This one's for you Benny. You made it to my page babe. x
Ben the little gem studies Visual Media at Griffith in Queensland. Bless his cotton socks. I wish I could get my hands on some of his drawings. hint hint. hmmmmmmm. Found some.
Umi says, shine your light on the world.
THE BIRTH OF SOMETHING NEW
A nice boy.
A girly boy.
A sweet boy.
A different boy.
A shorter boy.
A quiet boy.
He makes me things too.
He bought me a soft gift. I love presents. He won't let me unwrap it. It's sitting in front of me. It's calling me. It's hurting my feelings. But when I think about him, I'm filled with color. And i'm not looking at the gift anymore. But i cant stop it. He left it here for me to watch it. He left it here for me to want it. And squirm at my desk. On my bed. In my chair. To pretend I'm not thinking about it. To pretend I don't even care about it. I'm not seducing it. I'm not even writing about it. I'm writing about his pres'ence'. That's what I'm talking about. The gift of today. And the gift of tomorrow.
Ah faaark it.
I'm opening it.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
WE ALL GREW UP. YOU JUST GOT DUSTY.
Beautiful images I took from around my parents farm in Beverford Victoria.
Um, P.S. That air conditioner got me through thick and thin. I'm not kidding. The 80's. The 90's. And...even some of those naughties. God bless life as we know it.
When I first took these photos, they told a story. A scary story. Especially the ones around my dad's sheds. There's some mysterious things to report from the farm. The lens captures everything. But now I'm just excited to have been able to see the beauty in where i grew up and how lucky I truly am. I love my life. I love it to parts n n n pieces. For serious.
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