RUSSIAN CARAVAN

The Fly

2010-02-02T19:39:00.003+11:00

Little fly,

Thy summer's play

My thoughtless hand

Has brushed away.

Am not I

A fly like thee?

Or art not thou

A man like me?

For I dance

And drink and sing,

Till some blind hand

Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life

And strength and breath

And the want

Of thought is death,

Then am I

A happy fly,

If I live,

Or if I die.

William Blake.

The More Loving One

2010-02-01T22:06:00.002+11:00

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

That, for all they car, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am

Of stars that do not give a damn,

I cannot, now I see them, say

I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,

I should learn to look at an empty sky

And feel its total darkness sublime,

Though this might take me a little time.

W. H. Auden

O captain! my captain!

2010-01-31T17:37:00.001+11:00

O CAPTAIN! my captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we
sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people are
exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim
and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
Leave you not the little spot,
Where on the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

II.

O captain! my captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle
trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the
shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager
faces turning;
O captain! dear father!
This arm I push beneath you;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

III.

My captain does not answer, his lips are pale and
still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor
will:
But the ship, the ship is anchor'd safe, its voyage
closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with
object won:
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with silent tread,
Walk the spot my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman

Invictus

2010-01-30T11:59:00.003+11:00

(unconquered)

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley.

selection

2009-12-07T10:40:00.019+11:00

Anatidaephobia

2009-10-21T07:49:00.002+11:00

The fear that wherever you are, a duck is watching you.

e.e. cummings

2009-09-13T23:49:00.002+10:00

i love you much(most beautiful darling)
by: e.e. cummings

i love you much(most beautiful darling)

more than anyone on the earth and i
like you better than everything in the sky

-sunlight and singing welcome your coming

although winter may be everywhere
with such a silence and such a darkness
noone can quite begin to guess

(except my life)the true time of year-

and if what calls itself a world should have
the luck to hear such singing(or glimpse such
sunlight as will leap higher than high
through gayer than gayest someone's heart at your each

nearness)everyone certainly would(my
most beautiful darling)believe in nothing but love

inconceivable

2009-09-13T10:10:00.002+10:00

The Princess Bride > Jazz

Sorry, but it's true.

hello

2009-09-11T19:42:00.005+10:00

Talk to me. Say something. Say anything. I'm curious as to what's on your mind.

Photograph by August Sander

munch munch munch

2009-09-09T08:33:00.002+10:00

Yesterday, as I was walking to my house and munching a chocolate chip cookie, I began to wonder what my perfect shopping list would be. Now obviously, this is not something on which I could live daily. It really just represents the weird and wonderful foods I enjoy when I have the opportunity.

My Ideal Shopping List:

Bread - preferably multi-grain or sourdough.
Strawberries
Danish butter
Chocolate Chip Cookies
Avocados
Honeycomb
Goats cheese - 'Holy Goat'
Pickled Herrings
Soda Water
Crispy m&ms
Peanut butter (an essential)

Ps. Cats are strange things. There are currently two on my bed fighting. But, when one has had enough he'll jump off the bed and calm down for a minute. Then he'll rejoin the other on the bed and start licking him. Odd.

m and m's

2009-09-05T12:05:00.002+10:00

Wow.

genius hair

2009-09-04T01:20:00.012+10:00

Last Thursday I was introduced to the notion of 'genius hair'. This concept proposes that true genii have hair that verges on the outrageous, and is styled or left unkempt in a fashion which complements their brilliance and commonly eccentric nature. Naturally such genii includes:

Ludwig van Beethoven

Albrecht Durer

Albert Einstein

Ezra Pound

and, Marie Antoinette

Personally, I wouldn't mind having genius hair. There's something quite cool about the fact that you could roll out of bed and suddenly have the hair of true sagacity. I suppose it has something to do with the idea of being able to constantly maintain a calm facade, even when things go a little crazy - even if the craziest thing is your hair.

ps. I particularly like the Pound photograph. Partially because he has a look that if his eyes were to roll back in his head, he'd look just like a zombie. Also partially because it's a Henri Cartier-Bresson portrait, and I can't resist Henri.

pps. Who else thinks that Durer is a poser?

polari:

2009-09-03T18:48:00.003+10:00

The lost language of gay men.

Recently I became aware of Polari, a supposedly 'homosexual' language used in the 1970s-80s. Today, Polari is more of a novelty, presenting a style of discourse we would probably consider stereotypical of a very enthusiastic or hyperbolic gay man. There is even a Polari dictionary, written by Paul Baker, aptly named 'Fantabulosa'.

I came across this interesting and highly amusing language in a Self and Other lecture that focused on the identification of gender and sexuality through discourse. What particularly piqued my interest was an example of this 'gayspeak' in the lecture, and then the translated comparison:

"As feely homies, when we launched ourselves on the gay scene, Polari was all the rage. We would zhoosh our riahs, powder our eeks, climb into our bona new drag, don our batts and troll off to some bona bijou bar. In the bar, we would stand around parlyaring with our sisters, varda the bona cartes on the butch homie ajax who, if we fluttered our ogleriahs, might just troll over to offer a light."

Which, when 'translated', means something a bit more like this:

"As young men, when we launched ourselves on the gay scene, Polari was all the rage. We would fix our hair, powder our faces, climb into our nice new clothes, don our shoes and cruise to some nice small bar. In the bar, we would stand around chatting with our gay friends, admiring the nice bulge in the pants of the butch man nearby who, if we fluttered our eyelashes, might just wander over to offer a light."

My favourite word would have to be ogelriahs. It just seems so logical.

Well. I hope you enjoyed my departure into the distinctive lingo of the 'gay male'. I should go finish cleaning my room now.

bah

2009-09-03T00:02:00.004+10:00

It's technically the 3rd and thus a new day. I feel justified blogging in such quick succession now. I just wanted to share with you this image of 'thinks-he's-low-maintenance-but-is-actually-high-maintenance' sheep. Enjoy.

I should definitely get over this site already. Thank you for being so quirky.

the wonders of tea

2009-09-02T23:41:00.004+10:00

*chuckle*

why...

2009-08-29T00:36:00.005+10:00

Why do all the little things seem so important? Why are they the things you want or worry about most? Why are they the things you snap about? Why is saying sorry afterwards so hard? Why is it hearing the 'it's okay' after the sorry so important?

Why do I overanalyse?

rabbit bag

2009-08-18T19:49:00.004+10:00

It's so cute.

I'm flying away to Perth on Thursday night so I can go and sleep on my cousin's floor. He's turning 21 and I promised I'd be there. So come rain, hail or viral illness I will be there for his birthday shindig on Saturday. Aren't I fantastic?

new post

2009-08-04T22:53:00.003+10:00

It's been a while since I've bothered blogging. A lot has probably happened since I last posted something, but chances are that if you're reading this you'll already know that. The most significant occurrence as of late would be that I am now employed. Unfortunately, whilst employment comes with many benefits (the most obvious being money) it also poses many dilemmas on which I must deliberate. I am currently torn, as most people who suddenly find themselves with an income are, about what to do with it - whether to save it sensibly, or recklessly spend it. If you have any advice about whether or not to be financially responsible (or even what I should spend it on (within reason)) please say so.

Also, whilst on the topic of finances, I found this interesting method of storing financial documents.

'The jars hanging from the ceiling in the showroom ... are filled with their old financial statements.'

credit: The Selby

devastate me

2009-06-20T21:18:00.004+10:00

This was an entry in the 2008 PNAN Youth Arts Festival, a competition of sorts which centres around drugs and alcohol.

I'm not sure why I like it so much. In fact I'm not sure if I do at all. But it managed to completely captivate me.

blah blah blah

2009-06-11T00:53:00.004+10:00

'sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me.'

If you've spent any time in some sort of school system, you will know just how inaccurate this little mantra is. As children we are all fed the same phrase, essentially teaching us to pretend that the mean words and people aren't there. But as you get older, the verbal sticks and stones grow more accurate and often more painful - and less forgivable as a result. Today I discovered the true extent of just how hurtful and frightening words can be. Of course this wasn't surprising, but it was distressing nonetheless.

fixed gear

2009-06-09T00:43:00.002+10:00

Some people have too much time on their hands. click.

My problem is I haven't got enough, but I act as if I do.

snippets

2009-06-08T08:54:00.004+10:00

At the moment, I am enamoured of short stories. Something about their succinct nature, and novel approach to plot is incredibly satisfying. This current fascination is, unsurprisingly, the product of my literature studies. Over the course of the semester I have been introduce to two anthologies of short stories: Dubliners by James Joyce and after the quake by Haruki Murakami (although, I suppose the names are reversed in Japan). However, this morning I stumbled across a grim little tale by Saki called Sredni Vashtar.

Read it. Let me know what you think.

abroad

2009-06-06T18:02:00.002+10:00

"France has neither winter nor summer nor morals. Apart from these drawbacks it is a fine country."

- MARK TWAIN

latin.

2009-06-03T23:20:00.004+10:00

meum cerebrum nocet.

Everything has begun to creep up on me: university, exams, illness, unemployment... In order to assertain any modicum of independence I need to do something about these issues. However, the list of things I need to do continues to grow - and it's suffocating. Eventually, stress jumbles everything together, producing a constant sense of frustration. But for the moment I'm just going to let it slide by. Resumes and job-hunting can wait. For now, or at least until exams are gone, I intend to ignore the pangs of guilt I feel when I ask my parents for money. And travel tissue packs can be purchased.

philosophically political economics

2009-05-23T13:00:00.003+10:00

CHALLENGING THE PARADIGM

Recently in PPE (Philosophy, Politics and Economics) we were given the following analogy and asked to discuss it in a lecture.

'...Humanitarian interventions are seen as attempts at rescuing the innocent and helpless from persecution and extreme distress. We can dramatize its appeal by resort to a simple analogy. You are on your way home from work and you see a very strong man involved in an argument with his own child. It's noisy and unpleasant, but (you reason) it's their family and none of your business. But the dispute rapidly heats up and the man begins beating the child with a heavy stick. You protest and remonstrate with the man, but he tells you to get lost. He continues beating the child viciously, and indeed draws a knife and begins to brandish it at him. You fear for the child's life and as it happens you are (legitimately) carrying a gun. Surely you should threaten the father, and if the threats don't work, you are morally entitled to shoot...'

Later, in our tutorials we were given case studies from Rwanda or Kosovo, and asked to decide if intervention was justified. We were also asked to contemplate who and how it would be implemented. Military intervention almost always was the answer. This being the case, it is safe to assume that humanitarian intervention often results in mass killing, and even war.

Seems rather paradoxical doesn't it?

music

2009-04-19T10:14:00.003+10:00

'I drink good coffee every morning, comes from a place that's far away
And when I'm done I feel like talking, Without you here there is less to say...'

I find it fascinating the effect music can have on a person. Instantly it can revive moods, or lull you into a state of meditation. There are so many individual aspects of a song that can have an effect; the melody, the rhythm, the lyrics. Usually it's the melody or beat that first attracts me to a song. Certain songs invade my chest and make me grin, even want to dance. Others never disappoint me, producing a feeling of contentedness. Eventually the lyrics become more apparent - although sometimes they verge on undecipherable. Sometimes you have to pick away to find the meaning, but others the lyrics are simple and nice - simply nice.

Hmm, silly thoughts. Enjoy.

14 points

2009-03-23T16:19:00.010+11:00

S C R A B B L E

Last night I played an excellent game of scrabble. A WHIMPER put me ahead, but the QI was with the other player. It was very close. I lost. Words are fun.

People should play more scrabble.

second hand bookstores

2009-03-22T20:24:00.006+11:00

In paper jungles - something wondrous lies in wait.

One goal I have is to possess an enviable library. However, I feel no pressure in compiling such a library any time soon; it is in fact, more of a pleasure. I would like to think that as I continue to meander through life I will indulge in books and bookstores of all sorts. Slowly, I will tick books off an ever growing list. I like to imagine it will be a haphazard and almost definitely chaotic array. And, for some reason, this seems like a fanciful notion, but simultaneously something doable.

Right now, sitting before me are a selection of newly acquired secondhand books. One belonged to Justine Wootton in 1987. Another was given as a gift in Tokyo, August 1978. Claire Munch read poetry. Some have yellowed pages, others hastily scribbled notes. The ones I like best are inscribed with endearing inscriptions. Query: Why would you want to buy books firsthand?

untransform! untransform!

2009-03-18T20:49:00.005+11:00

So...what now?

It's been a while since my last post. In that time quite a few things have happened, but at the moment the words won't come. So instead here is a comic that, for reasons unknown even to myself, made me laugh uncontrollably.

Maybe because I used to pretend to be a cat once upon a time.

list #458

2009-02-06T08:59:00.006+11:00

It's a sad state of affairs when Eric is blogging more consistantly than you.

Lately I've made a lot of lists. Lists of things to do. Lists of books to read. Lists about 25 facts about yourself. Lists of numbers and uni subjects to enrol in. Lists of postponed things I must get round to. The list goes on...

So, I've decided to blog a new list. This is a list of things I'd like to do in the next month, before responsibilites catch up with me. Some of them won't happen soon. Some of them won't happen ever. So I guess it's more of a wish list.

One Month.

1. Visit more second hand bookstores. I like spending hours rummaging through the shelves, flicking through hidden away novels or tomes with yellowing pages. I'd like more poetry.

2. Have movie days/nights. On a simlar note, I want to go to the moonlight cinema - I've never been.

3. Star gaze.

4. Picnics. There need to be more picnics. When the weather cools.

5. Watch as everyone around me bursts into song and dance. It will be coordinated, on key and well choreographed too. Musicals all end happily too.

6. I want to go iceskating.

7. Read more books. The list of books I want to read is ever growing. In turn: THINK, more.

8. L is ten to the rain fall outside while I'm warm and safe in bed.

9. Berrypicking - strawberries and raspberries.

10. Visit the farm with friends. Have a pyjama party, watch movies, play boardgames and in the morning make pancakes.

11. Catch up on some crap TV I missed out on in year (12). Figure out who was clever enough to find this. Say chicken if you do
13. Solve more riddles.

14. Ride a bike down a really long hill - to feel the rush.

15. Follow t.h.r.o.u.g.h. with my lists.

france.

2009-01-11T07:52:00.003+11:00

Lyon.

I'm sitting. I'm thinking. I'm bored. Ten to ten. Dad's asleep. Yenne's a busy body. It's bedtime.

O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark.

one minute left

2009-01-08T05:40:00.002+11:00

Venice.

Two weeks left. Will I miss it? I don't know. I know what I miss at the moment.

But... I'm off to france tomorrow with my father. A foreign country which is less foreign than foreign.

Love from Venice.

new year

2009-01-03T22:11:00.004+11:00

Fireworks.

My year started in my cupcake pyjamas on a street corner in Vienna with fireworks.

This was a wonderful way to enter the new year. But I have other plans for 2010.

Love from Vienna.

austria

2008-12-31T07:23:00.003+11:00

Free internet.

Merry belated Christmas. Happy New Year. Love from Vienna.

...take off

2008-12-23T13:26:00.003+11:00

0.

And while I'm away, I'll write home every day, and send all my loving to you.

one fine day

2008-12-22T20:55:00.006+11:00

1.

I was going to call this blog, 'one is the loneliest number'. However that seems so wrong now, after the lovely day I've had.

It was hot today. Too hot. I woke up early to clear the storeroom for the last time and nearly fainted from the heat in that room. It was rather stuffy. But, I have finished and I'm quite pleased with the results. I then chose to hide away in my air-conditioned room and pack my suitcase. I've managed to amaze myself with how little I'm packing. Enough room left so I can bring back gifts. For myself of course.

However, once everything was packed (save toiletries) I was desperately bored. So, I chose to impose my presence on two of my friends who'd gone off walking earlier. After feeling strangely low yesterday, being able to just sit and talk was really nice. My afternoon was filled with lazy, funny goodness. Oliver was abusive every now and then, but despite that, it was still a lovely way to spend the afternoon.

I'm now home, chatting and picking music to put on my iPod. Not long now.

Conclusion: I will miss all my friends very much.

...2 2 was 1 2

2008-12-21T23:34:00.002+11:00

2.

Two's company.

I feel a bit despondant tonight. Which is fine. I wish I knew why. But the thing that bothers me the most is the possiblity that I make other people feel a bit crappy.

Two is not long.

I feel a bit nervous/excited.

aboreal delights

2008-12-20T17:29:00.004+11:00

3.

Tree: in Ireland, the number that comes between two and four.

I'm not awake enough (or ready) to make my own pretty words at the moment. But, in order to complete the countdown, I will borrow someone elses.

Flowers in the Kitchen

On buying her flowers
she said

"There's no food in the kitchen and we can't eat flowers."

On buying her food
she said

"You don't buy flowers any more."

LEMN SISSAY

Life is funny like that. It's hard to find the balance.

beans

2008-12-19T21:18:00.005+11:00

4.

Over halfway done, only four to go.

I am tired. Life is catching up to me at the moment. I'm sleeping on and off after getting home at around half six. After a late night, I decided to recover with cake, a film and a friend. As my life becomes more and more aimless, it is always nice to relax and see friends.

Moments where you tip your head to the side. Smile a little, and think 'what?': Today, I was welcomed home with a note which read:

'wather my bean eveey day. love Thomas.'

My youngest brother often surprises me. He can be a bit violent and single-minded on games, but also very thoughful and caring. I don't quite know what to think when it comes to the boy.

This blog seems a bit lacklustre, but I don't mind because my day was not. And there is a cat twisting around my legs for love.

the ship cinq

2008-12-18T12:19:00.004+11:00

5.

In another five hours I should be nearing the halfway mark in cleaning the storeroom.

My day has been uninteresting today. I slept in a tad to late whilst having an odd semi-awake dream. In this dream, I was going out with some friends. We were going to a club. Everyone looked great, however it was upon arriving at the club that I realised I was wearing thongs. It was at this point I woke up more confused than anything.

After that, I wandered down to the kitchen. Ate something. Read a little, and then started to clean. I'm constantly finding junk I've never seen in my life. A lot of it is old papers. One of the discoveries which amused me most was a medium-sized box filled to the brim with old kumon papers. Why we held onto them I have no clue.

I need to find nicer stationary. On the to do list.

Edit 1:05pm: I've just found something which makes the box of kumon look commonplace. A massive tub completely filled with unopened model aeroplanes.

six appeal

2008-12-17T20:53:00.003+11:00

6.

It's getting uncomfortably close to the date of my departure. Six days in which I have to tie up loose ends, pack and socialise. Can she do it?

Ever since I returned from my 'schoolies' vaction, I've had three obligations:

1) Clean the storeroom. The storeroom is like an attic. It's small and stuffy and filled with crap I haven't seen in years and doubt I'll use in the years to come. I've promised my mother I'll be ruthless; throwing out anything that seems at all useless. However, as I rummage through odds and ends, I find things that trigger an odd memory, or which stimulate terrible nostalgia.

2) Research the scarlet pimpernel. My mission is to find images and drawings of the pimpernel. This is a small, british weed. Not the most beautiful flower. And, is thus rather difficult to find anatomical drawings of. So, the search has involved trips to various libraries over the past few weeks; sifting through bookshelfs and tomes for anything.

3) Have a social life. I think it is my right as a high school graduate to socialise. Whether it be a short chat on msn, dinner one night, or an organised gathering to try to watch films. However, given my previously mentioned responsibilities, it can be difficult to find the balance between friends and my obligations.

Today, I managed to address each issue. What started out as a film day - a collection of friends coming together in the vain hope that we would actually watch a selections of films (we watched one. Manhattan Murder Mystery. My choice and attempt to instill an admiration for Woody Allen in my friends). But, 8:30 this morning, father drags me out of bed to guilt trip me into action - I find disappointment worse than rage. In anycase, I felt quite awful afterwards and spent the next two hours cleaning the storeroom. I also managed to squeeze in a phone call to the Royal Botanical Gardens Library concerning the pimpernel. So, overall the morning was rather productive. The afternoon was more enjoyable. I had lovely long chats about people and life in general.

So much has happened in my lifetime so far.I also came across an old box of photos in my rummagings. It makes me curious about life before I can remember - a time I will never know. However, everyone smiles in photos. I wonder if they are really happy.

the hungry number

2008-12-16T14:42:00.006+11:00

7.

One Week. Seven is meant to be a lucky number, yes?

It seems to be paying off for me today. I sat my hazard perception test today. This is a silly computerised test you have to complete in order to sit your drivers exam. Essentially, you watch a video and click when it is safe to turn, slow down, overtake and move off. Funnily enough, and in keeping with the seveness of the day, I passed with 77%. I don't really care about the crapiness this percentage actually represents - mostly, I'm amused.

In other news, I received more than one test result today. As an IB student, I was rather surprised to receive a letter from VTAC, however GAT results have been out. Overall, the GAT means very little to me - it doesn't help me unless everyone doing IB does well. But I'm more than a little surprised, happy and totally prepared to gloat about my Written Communication score. Bodes well for literature at Uni.

Postsecret makes me wonder: do I have any secrets?
a

This one is nice. Someone is a romantic.

the thought that counts

2008-12-15T14:50:00.003+11:00

8.

Why was six scared? Because seven, eight, nine.

Numbers have a strange tendency to rule our lives. I know I have my fair share; pin numbers, school numbers, library card numbers, address numbers, postcodes. I know for all the VCE kids that today numbers were very important - well to most. ENTERS came out today. The number that can change your future. Everyone sits somewhere on that bell curve - well, I don't: IB. My numbers have a more limited range. 1 to 7. 3 out of 3. And 45. For me, it's personal satisfaction and my notional ENTER which matter. But I'm not going to bother worrying about that just yet.

Funnily enough, I sometimes find I think in terms of numbers. Families differ depending on the number of children they have. In the morning, I think of my sleep in as portions of 5s. 5 minutes. Another 5 minutes, etc. I think of pants as 2s and t-shirts as 1s. I think of book pages in terms of halves and quarters. Letters have numbers too - but this may be due to scrabble.

Good luck VCE children. For today and tomorrow.

driving lessons

2008-12-14T18:26:00.002+11:00

9.

Nine days to go.

Went up to the farm yesterday. It was quite exciting. I was allowed to drive up in the Landcruiser, which is a giant green, manual beast of a car. As a learner, I have only just conquered first gear, so I was eager o drive over a long distance. However, I was pelting with rain. I loved it, but my mother had a few white knuckle moments.

That's all I can think to say at the moment. Listening to music.

Happy Birthday Sunni. 18.

the great beyond

2008-12-13T14:04:00.005+11:00

The countdown begins.

10.

In ten days I leave. I fly away to foreign lands. Where I can't speak the language. I'm not ready to go yet; I haven't packed or bought thermals. It will be cold.

Germany. Austria. Italy. France. Home.

Upsetting: I'm going to miss christmas, my family and friends, new years, getting my IB results and boxing day sales.

lovely

2008-12-09T14:01:00.004+11:00

s
musings.

I feel slightly adrift at the moment. Aimlessly moving from day to day. I feel a restless too, but not in a physical sense. I can hardly label it as emotional. Probably just a restless Mind. All at once, I want to be surrounded by people and to be left alone to think. But thinking can be dangerous; I overthink. I want lovely things: sunrises, tulips, tea cups, icypoles, songs etc.

I want to be emotionally drained and then to sleep for hours.

Edit 6:11 pm: sleeping was wonderful. a nice end to a day which seemed to be going sadly awry.

smile

2008-11-30T23:05:00.003+11:00

Grandmother.

'...a little verse at the end, that was hung at the top of my grandmother's stairs and it read:

"It is easy enough to smile
When everything goes your way,
But the man worthwhile
Is the man who can smile
When everything goes astray."

The ideal is great, its implementation, not so easy.'

ps. birthday today. It was wonderful. Couldn't ask for a better day or better people to share it with.

because i could not stop for death

2008-11-19T20:30:00.006+11:00

Emily.

I don't know if you can tell, but I've been going on a bit of a poetry binge lately. In fact, I've really been enjoying Emily Dickinson's poems. While she can be a bit depressing, her poems are so well composed it's hard not to like them. What I like most is their length. Rarely are they long and I admire Dickinson's ability to capture emotions or various concepts with such concision.

This is one of my favourites.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of grazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippedt only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

EMILY DICKINSON

Such a lit loser. and I suck at guitar hero to boot. I wasted so much time on the latter activity today. Most enjoyable.

2008-11-11T23:08:00.002+11:00

...do you know this bear?

323

2008-11-10T20:33:00.004+11:00

My life closed twice before its close -
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me

So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEMILY DICKINSON

switch bitch

2008-11-04T17:52:00.006+11:00

aaa

After a near death experience by mathematical problems, I decided to save myself and read instead. I wasn't in the mood for anything laborious, so selected a small collection of Roald Dahl stories called 'Switch Bitch'. In it are four outrageously hilarious and slightly naughty short stories. And in true Roald Dahl style, they're a bit fantastical and twisted.

Perfect for reading outdoors and in between exams.

at my most beautiful

2008-10-31T22:50:00.007+11:00

Today has been a day of friends, chat and poetry. I enjoyed myself too much (if such a thing is possible) and sadly, I did little exam preparation. Poems, they make me smile.

This Be The Verse
- Phillip Larkin

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

They Tuck you up
- Adrian Mitchell

They tuck you up, your mum and dad,
They read you Peter Rabbit, too.
They give you all the treats they had
And add some extra, just for you.

They were tucked up when they were small,
(Pink perfume, blue tobacco-smoke),
By those whose kiss healed any fall,
Whose laughter doubled any joke.

Man hands on happiness to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
So love your parents all you can
And have some cheerful kids yourself

Love Poem

- Lemn Sissay

You remind me
define me
incline me.

If you died
I'd

Edit 10:35. Returning all stolen sentiments as of now.

my happiness

2008-10-30T00:06:00.005+11:00

Movies.

I was thinking about how I'd like to celebrate the end of my exams. I'm not exciting enough to go out, so I thought why not stay in. I'd have a movie night.

These are the movies I'd watch.

Nothing like Katharine Hepburn to kick of the evening.

I don't think many people would appreciate the second movie as much as myself. But it's been on the list for a while now.

Mmmm. Classic.

I can never tell whether I'm the only person who likes this movie. But then again, the films I've grown up with have been slightly skewed towards the strange and 'Burton-esque'.

blue suede shoes

2008-10-27T12:12:00.004+11:00

Heels are wonderful torture devices.

No doubt invented by a man.

I wish.

And yet, we continue to wear them. Talk about masochism.

le plus beau du quartier

2008-10-24T12:58:00.009+11:00

'Maddy, you don't read!'

This is my grandmother's complaint every time I visit her for a french tutorial.

(In many ways, being related to the person who tutors you has it's advantages, such as chocolate biscuits, informality and being doted upon. It also has its drawbacks, like brutal honesty and slamming the table when I forget to make verbal agreements. My grandmother would have to be one of the scariest french teachers I know)

...So, I'm reading. Apparently, it's one of the most effective ways to study for a language exam, so each year I receive a french book form ma grand-mère. Last year it was La Chatte by Colette. So, I'm making an attempt to read it. It's pretty much another story about jealousy and unrequited love. 'But how does a cat fit into all this?' you might ask. Well, it's essentially a love triangle between a young women, her husband and his cat. She loves him. He loves his cat. The cat sounds like it's on drugs.

The plot is simple; a young married couple move into their own apartment. However the husband misses his childhood cat terribly. He returns to his parents house to find the cat and bring her home to his wife. As it turns out, the cat represents the dreams and memories of childhood which he can't let go of, and so he loves her more than his wife. The wife is eventually overcome by jealousy and attempts to kill the cat, but fails. Learning of this, the husband leaves his young wife for his cat.

In a word: strange.

The author was pretty strange herself:

' je reve que j'épouse un très grand chat.' - Colette

sitting, waiting, wishing

2008-10-22T21:57:00.003+11:00

ode to my family (and friends)

2008-10-21T23:47:00.005+11:00

It's pretty much over.

Okay. Exams are still in the very near future. So are hours of grueling study. Panic attacks. Terrible sleep patterns. Fruitless cramming. Hand cramps. Mathematically induced headaches. Rants. Procrastination. Intellectual hangovers.

And while I'm sure most of you aren't narrow-minded enough to forget how wonderful your life truly is, I've decide to be "that person" who gently reminds you.

It's cliché, but I like it:

aaaaaaDon't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. - anon

kids

2008-10-18T11:25:00.003+11:00

Relfelctions on a Gift
of a Watermelon Pickle
Received from a Friend
called Felicity

During that summer
When unicorns were still possible;
When the purpose of knees
Was to be skinned;
When shiny horse chestnusts
aaaaaaa(Hollowed out
aaaaaaawith straws
aaaaaaaCrammed with tobacco
aaaaaaaStolen from butts
aaaaaaaIn family ashtrays)
Were puffed in green lixard silence
While straddling thick branches
Far above and away
From the softening effects
Of civilisation

During that summer ---
Which may never have been at all;
But which has become more real
Than the one that was ---
Watermelons ruled.

Thick pink imperial slices
Melting frigidly on sun-parched tongues
Dribbling from chins;
Leaving the best part,
The black bullet seeds,
To be spit out in rapid fire
Against the wall
Against the wind
Against each other;

And when the ammunition was spent,
There was always another bite:
It was a summer of limitless bites,
Of hungers quikcly felt
And quickly forgotten
With the next careless gorging.

The bites are fewer now.
Each one is savored lingeringly,
Swallowed reluctantly.

But in a jar put up by Felicity,
The summer which maybe never was
Has been captured and preserved.
And when we unscrew the lid
And slice off a piece
And let it linger on our tongue:
Unicorns become possible again.

John Tobias

the long and winding road

2008-10-12T11:44:00.022+11:00

Photos as promised.

Well, today I had my art exam. This involved a forty-five minute oral where I explained my work and my madness. I think it went quite well, however sometimes it was difficult to gauge the examiners reaction. But he gave some excellent advice concerning my CRB (candidate record book) which is to be examined later. It's rather nice to have it over. Furthermore, I only have five subjects to worry about now. I'm practically a VCE student (the slackers). Anyway, below are photos of the exam layout and the chair in detail. All stenciling, painting and varnishing was made/done by hand (and yes, MY hands).

see Joseph Kosuth

The chair looks best with dirt in the pots

In other news...

The things I do for my family. Many of you may already know that I was Alana's model in the VCE fashion show. There was a lot of make up (especially around the eyes, I looked rather 'raccoony') and hairspray (see bird's nest). These photos were taken after Alana's fashion show. But don't be fooled. This was me with my hair down and my eye make up removed. It was truly frightening. I'm still waiting for photos of the actual night. However, I've heared good things about the show. WELL DONE ALANA!

j'en connais

2008-10-09T23:08:00.005+11:00

This is annoying. I wanted to post photos of my chair, but I can't find my card reader. I've searched every inch of my home and I cannot find it. This isn't unusual in my house. Too much junk.

Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. I wouldn't want my chair to fail to meet the expectations I may have built in peoples minds. I come off excited when I talk about it, but that's because I've finished and I don't have to stay up until one in the morning painting it.

I also wanted to post some rather interesting photos or raccoon-eyed girls and bird-nest heads. But they can wait as well I suppose.

However, while I was searching for the card reader I came across a pair of tortoise shell Wayfarers. They're about 20 years old and the hinges are a bit loose, so Mum said I could have them. So, I took them. I mean how often do things like that present them self for free?

Anyway. Watch this space for amusing images. Or at least take pleasure in the fact that I'm making an idiot of myself by running around the house looking for a small plastic contraption.

Here's a sudoku to tide you over until I can be more interesting.

don't stop me now

2008-10-05T21:06:00.009+11:00

Jack Radcliffe

Right now I feel a bit like this; tired, frustrated and I need a hit of something soothing 'cos coffee just won't cut it. Fortunately my drug of choice is the internet. I chose blogging.

Today, I decided, I don't like painting. I've always had an inkling, but this afternoon I put my theory to the test and was not disappointed. There are just so many layers and colours and shades and lines and non-lines. It was a frustrating experience.

However, all this unpleasant painting provided the perfect opportunity to sit in the sun and listen to music and think (when not overwhelmed by frustration). And one thought, which has occurred to me before, was that I wish my day to day life had a soundtrack. I think that people around me, and maybe even myself, would be able to pick up on how I feel a lot easier.

So, I compiled a soundtrack for today.

This morning while walking in the sun through Camberwell: Dreams - The Cranberries

Sitting for hours while making stencils: One Week - Barenaked Ladies

The "occasional" (and I use the term loosely) msn conversation and sudoku: Kids - MGMT

Completion of said stencils: She's So High - Tal Bachman

The decisions to give up msn for the week: Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon

Stencils not working: Cornflake Girl - Tori Amos

Painting. Painting. Painting: Ode To My Family - The Cranberries

Blog: Say that you Love Me - Fleetwood Mac

And now my back hurts. So I'm going to lie down and listen to Queen.

by the way

2008-10-04T14:31:00.014+10:00

Oh Alice, what to do!

School is nearly back and in many ways I'm at a loss for ... most anything. My main concern at the moment is art. And like most things, I'm lacking a sure direction. When this happens I tend to flick through my RWB and see where I've come from. Today, instead, I picked up Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. I tend to flick from page to page looking for the original sketches. They are incredibly unique and always delightful to look at. It’s almost a mix between correct proportions and those which verge on the impossible.

If I could have anything, I'd want to be able to draw like this. Well not really, I'd like a perfect IB score, but this comes in a close secondish on the list.

On a different note, the sun is out. The sky is blue. Somewhere in the world blue birds are singing and I'm listening to Louis Armstrong's What a Wonderful World. I hope everyone has a wonderful day.

what's new pussycat?

2008-09-28T20:33:00.008+10:00

Felix is gone.

Felix was our adopted cat. He showed up at our house about two weeks ago and then just hung around. We ended up feeding him once he became really whiny. On Thursday we finally decided to take him to the vet to scan his microchips. Turns out, he had been missing for 3 months. His real name is boots. But given his colouring, Felix is a much better, albeit incredibly unoriginal, name.

***

Ok, It is now Sunday. I started writing this on Saturday. A lot can happen in a night. Guess who I found sitting at my backdoor this morning. That's right, Felix is back.

der schwanensee

2008-09-21T13:12:00.004+10:00

Home alone. Listening to Tchaikovsky. Lovely.

I'm on a classical binge.

funeral blues

2008-09-16T11:41:00.003+10:00

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden

the first cut is the deepest

2008-09-14T13:34:00.005+10:00

I've been a bit uninspired lately. Life is busy (and by life I mean school) and I'm just plodding on through. But I thought that I should make a post at least once during September.

However, the other day I had a small nostalgic moment. For once, it's not school related. I was cutting up an apple. I think it was a Granny Smith, because green apples are infinitely superior. Then, this rather random memory suddenly popped into my head of me as a small girl watching my mum cut up an apple. It reminded me of my belief that mothers have that perfect way of cutting up an apple. First into quarters and then getting rid of the core in one swift cut. I always thought that when I was older (or maybe a mother), I'd be able to do it too.

Turns out I can't. But I suppose there's still time.

all i want

2008-08-30T22:45:00.020+10:00

I want to f l y.

I want to put on my blue, suede shoes and dance.

I want to run around with sparklers.

I want forty-one.

I want to lie in the sun and daydream.

I want to bake cupcakes and l i c k the bowl.

I want to read all the books hidden under my bed.

I want to go on picnics and pick flowers.

I want borrow Bresson’s camera.

I want to p l a y mario kart.

I want people to burst in to spontaneous song in the street.

I want to star gaze.

I want to listen to music all day.

I want to steal Donne’s words, Wilde’s wit and Camus’ clarity.

I want to sip tea and recite poetry.

I want a single day of perfect understanding.

I want to wear my pyjamas all day.

I want to sing in the r a i n.

I want to hide notes in babushka dolls.

I want to find love letters in antique desks.

I want to do cartwheels down grassy hills.

I want to be ambitious.

I want to be content.

I want to write poems about blue birds and nothing in particular.

I want to crack a crème brulé.

I want to click my heels together three times.

I want o n e more hour in every day.

middle distance runner

2008-08-18T22:36:00.005+10:00

Well I'm so sad tonight
And the words won't come out right
It's been a long day on the track
And its stamina that I lack

So won't you run to me tonight?
Tonight we could pretend that we're just lovers
But I'll only ever be a middle distance runner

Well my heart is beating hard
And I'm off with a shot at the start
And my legs tremble from strain
But by the finish line I'll drain

So won't you run to me tonight?
Tonight let's not talk about next summer
Cause I'll only ever be a middle distance runner

Well I'm so proud tonight
Of the woman you've become
And I'm just too tired to fight
So my darling, I'll succumb

But you'll have to run to me tonight
Tonight I will love you forever
But I'll only ever be a middle distance runner

Sea Wolf

listen.

http://www.myspace.com/seawolf

roll over beethoven

2008-08-17T23:21:00.011+10:00

I'm bored. I should be doing my history IA, but I just can't bring myself to do it right now. So I'll do something a bit mindless instead.

~ Choose a singer/band/group
~ Answer using ONLY titles of songs by that singer/band/group
~ Tag 6 more people (let them know they've been tagged)

Those who wish to procrastinate are automatically tagged.

And I choose The Beatles. By the way, a prize to the first person to correctly count the number of The Beatles titles in this blog.

1. Are you male or female?
I am the Walrus

2. Describe yourself.
Oh! Darling

3. What do people feel when they're around you?
I Want to Tell You

4. How would you describe your previous relationship?
I’ll Cry Instead

5. Describe your current relationship.
Ain’t Nothing Shakin’

6. Where would you want to be now?
Strawberry Fields

7. How do you feel about love?
All You Need is Love

8. What's your life like?
Take Out Some Insurance on me Baby

9. What would you ask for if you had only one wish?
I Wish I could Shimmy Like my Sister Kate

10. Say something wise.
One and One is Two

The Beatles wrotes some very strange songs, with even more bizzare titles. I'm upset that I wasn't able to use;

~ Baby, Let's Play House
~ Leave my Kitten Alone
~ Lend me Your Comb
~ Maxwell's Silver Hammer
~ Run For Your Life
&
~ Ps. I Love You

But alas ... 'The End'

camera

2008-08-10T13:33:00.019+10:00

Life seems simpler through the lens of a camera.

"Photography is an instantaneous operation, both sensory and intellectual -- an expression of the world in visual terms, and also a perpetual quest and interrogation. It is at one and the same time the recognition of a fact in a fraction of a second and the rigorous arrangement of the forms visually perceived which give to that fact expression and significance."

- Henri Cartier-Bresson, The Decisive Moment

Cartier-Bresson

... and as I sat, with nothing on my mind, a little bird appeared before me and whispered: aren't you glad I'm your blank space?

cheer up boys (your make up is running)

2008-08-06T17:35:00.007+10:00

Rules for life:

'I have told my sons that they are not under any circumstances to take part in massacres, and that the news of massacres of enemies is not to fill them with satisfaction or glee.

I have also told them not to work for companies which make masscre machinery, and to express contempt for people who think we need machinery like that.'

Kurt Vonnegut
~ Slaughterhouse 5

'Laugh and the world laughs with you, snore and you sleep alone.'

Mrs. Patrick Campbell
~ Letter to George Bernard Shaw

'Don't touch shit even with gloves on. The gloves get shittier, the shit doesn't get glovier.'

Gustave Flaubert

'Hitler sucks... You know what else sucks? A vaccumn.'

Ben

'The Income Tax has made more liars out of the American people than golf has.'

Will Rogers
~ Illiterate Digest

'To love one's self is the beginning of a life-long romance.'

Oscar Wilde
~ An Ideal Husband

'A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature.'

Ralph Waldo Emerson
~ Essays 'Friendship'

'A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.'

Emily Dickinson
~ A Word is Dead

'One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love.'

Sophocles
~ Oedipus at Colonus

I don't know about you, but quotes cheer me up. Cheer up everyone.

Smile.

i'm walking on sunshine

2008-08-02T21:36:00.014+10:00

I love that people live near me. It would take me all my fingers and toes (and perhaps yours too) to list them all. In any case, I'm not usually hurting for company. Today was a random wandering day with Sunni and our cameras. Sunni had two so she lent me hers when my battery decided to give up on me.

It was a fairly un-photogenic day, so not many natural photos were taken. So I resorted to Sunni, gnomes, Sunni, benches, flowers and Sunni. Enjoy.

There's this one house I absolutely adore. I walk past it on the way to school most days, and the front garden is packed with figurines.

Some suss-looking froggies.

looks like she's eating it (and if you look closely you can see the rain)

the only truly artisitc photo I took

I felt a bit silly taking a picture of these two, but I liked the fact they were sharing an umbrella (and i'm attracted to 'rain gear'; little yellow padington raincoats, bumboots, umbrellas etc. etc.)

ad for landscapers, but I want to use it in an art project ... somehow.

yeah, you really wouldn't get it.

a bit dazed and confused.

I call this collection 'Happy Sunni Photos'

sing, sing, sing

2008-07-31T23:28:00.001+10:00

if you were a song, what would you be?

's wonderful

2008-07-28T22:45:00.012+10:00

... 's marvelous

Photograph courtesy of Olive Cotton

Things are starting to look up. I feel like I'm reaching that point in the year when everything comes into focus. IAs are finishing up, orals are done and dusted, CAS and TOK are coming to a close and syllabuses are winding up. I hope that's it and not a teasing glimpse of happiness. That wouldn't be fair. But let's not dwell on unhappy (or in some cases, happy) schoolities.

Yesterday was a particularly nice day. I had free and cancelled periods all day (except for art, but I worked on RWB at home). However, it also felt productive. I did some biology, some history, some reading. I went for a rather disastrous walk to the library and came home barefoot and blistered, but it was still a gorgeous day and that has to count for something.

When I got home I came across some nice poems and a particularly amusing limerick. However, I've already been told off once for saying it. And I wouldn't want to offend anyone's 'sensibilities'. It is rather crude, but in a good mood it makes you smile.

But the highlight of my day was playing with my seven year old brother on our old, fluro orange Nintendo 64. I was rather happy with the outcomes considering how long it's been since I've played Super Smash Brothers (the original). And also because we both play dirty.

In the end it was Me 1, Thomas 4.

when you are old

2008-07-28T13:47:00.010+10:00

Literary analysis. I can never decide if I like it, or if I don't. Most of the time I enjoy it, I think. English essays are really the only ones I can tolerate (history anyone? I didn't think so). But sometimes while reading a school text I miss the meaning because I'm so caught up looking for it. So I've come to the conclusion that sometimes analysis can ruin a good thing. (This extends to life in general kiddies). That was my small slice of wisdom for today, and there are so few I can hardly share them all, so instead I'm going to be self-indulgent.

The analysis of poetry I find troubling, and you would to if you had to write a commentary on Three Lunulae, Truro Museum. Don't get me wrong, I love poetry, but I have so much trouble finding poems that really mean anything (to me at least). And so we get to the point: Today I was perusing my Faber Book of Love Poems. Now, I'm a huge fan of the 'Plagues of Loving' and 'Absences, Doubts and Divisions' sections, but today I was flicking through the 'Love Renounced and Love in Death' section and I stumbled upon a beautiful something.

When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with false of true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And placed upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

W.B. Yeats

It seems lovely but sad and I don't completely get it, and I'm not sure if I want to. But I'm disgusted that first thing I noticed was the rhyming A, B, B, A scheme. (and now I'm thinking about Abba)

However, to distract myself, I'd like to assert that revenge and hate are equally good themes to write a poem about. They require a bit more wit. Which is why I'm pleased when I find a love poem that seems to have a deeper meaning. But hate is always a bit of fun.

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunnèd it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore and apple bright:
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veiled the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

William Blake

hmmm.

when i grow up

2008-07-22T18:00:00.011+10:00

Today was rather uneventful. Actually, no, I lie. Today, I technically had the first three periods off. In that time I managed to induce my own heart attack, walk up and down Glenferrie Road. Twice. Purchase three cupcakes, see one car collide into the back of another and squeeze in the final corrections of my TOK essay. Period four, however, I had art. Currently I'm working with chairs and body parts. When I try and explain my work, people end a lot more confused then when I started, so I'll just show you.

It's an arm-chair. In real life, that's the chair I read in. Minus the arms. (ignore the butterfly. I hate it)

There are now way more vines everywhere. I got a bit carried away.

After Art, the day became even more eventful as I walked home with Sunni. But not before we took some surreal and artistic photographs.

And since this was Gabby's camera, we left her with this stunner.

However the cherry which topped my day was when Sunni and I walked home. Not only was there a hard rubbish collection (all petty thieves welcome) but Sunni walked most of the way home with at least 10 metres of rusty wire. We also spoke of many profound and interesting things.

me: hey, these look like albino cherries
sunni: oh, maddy
me: hehe, step on it *throws berry-like thing onto the footpath*
sunni: *steps onto berry-like thing*
me: it's white on the inside
sunni: just like gabby

Five minutes later

me: we're so childish

But there's nothing wrong with that. Is there?

tell me what you see

2008-07-13T16:33:00.002+10:00

'In expanding the field of knowledge we but increase the horizon of ignorance’ - Henry Miller

Is this true?

breakfast at tiffany's

2008-07-12T12:49:00.009+10:00

Today was the last day with the cousins and aunt in town, so I had originally planned to take them to breakfast in Kew. However, it was decided by all that blueberry pancakes at home would be a much less expensive and more delicious choice. I'm such a loser that I take photos of my food. Gourmet Traveller here I come.

maple syrup and fresh strawberries.

This was washed down with really strong coffee.

I would have licked the plate if I had been alone. I'm truly depraved.

And we all made a friend called Gary

thank you for the music

2008-07-11T17:35:00.022+10:00

I'm a creature of habit, and I like the idea of tradition. However, there is only one tradition I partake in that is really my own. Every year, around may, I make a compilation CD and force my 'personal' and somewhat 'acquired' taste in music on Amy. This started out as a birthday gift idea for poor, unsuspecting Amy in year ten. For some reason I never got out of the habit. Strangely enough, she seems to look forward to this. However this year I'm extremely late, as it is a gift belated by nearly two months. But I'm rather pleased with the outcome, and happily listened to it on the tram on my way to the University of Melbourne this morning.

1. Woo Hoo - 5, 6, 7, 8s

2. Happiness is a Warm Gun - The Beatles

3. The Blowers Daughter - Damien Rice

4. Taylor - Jack Johnson

5. I Will Follow you into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

6. Fall at your Feet - Crowded House

7. One Fine Day - The Chiffons

8. Fox on the Run - The Sweet

9. Violet Hill - Coldplay

10. Save Tonight - Eagle Eye Cherry

11. Solsbury Hill - Peter Gabriel

12. Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks

13. Fidelity - Regina Spektor

14. Flora's Secret - Enya

15. Pretty Little Ditty - Red Hot Chili Peppers

16. Your Heart is an Empty Room - Death Cab for Cutie

17. Fast Car - Tracy Chapman

18. The Call - Regina Spektor

18 songs for 18 years. Happy Birthday Amy! (and I apologise for the 70s. They didn't know any better)

On a different note, today was the University of Melbourne's Access All Areas. In all truthfulness it was rather boring, and the highlight of my day was definitely Lygon Street and San Churros. For those who have never experienced churros, I like to know if you've been living under a rock for the past ten years. This is what you're missing.

Spanish donuts and dipping chocolate.

Chocolate macadamia tart which Kris and Andy (my Grecian lovelies) ordered

Gabby drawing on my coffee.

It was supposed to be an 'M' and a Heart

My Grecian lovelies

The equally lovely Gabby, who is currently trying to convey less through facial expression and more through words.

Looking just a bit glamorous

This is me being a being a bit artistic, and a bit proud of my lacing.

I apologise for all fuzziness and bluring. I blame it on the lighting, shutter speed and the movements of my models. I of course, am perfect.

vogue

2008-07-07T12:28:00.005+10:00

It's official, my shoe closet is decidedly boring. Unfortunately, nowadays, you need money to be interesting. So I just get to look. But I thought the existence of these shoes should be made known. I get tingles. M.C. Escher doesn't stray too far from my mind either.

Marc Jacobs, spring summer 08.

However, I'm not 100% sure of the mechanics involved here. How would one walk? One of life's tantalising mysteries.

silver

2008-07-04T21:09:00.004+10:00

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the which breasts peep,
Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

Walter de la Mare

One of my favourite poems. I wanted to read something pretty

home

2008-07-04T17:53:00.022+10:00

I’m back. I should be unpacking or doing the homework I had planned to do last week but didn’t. Instead, I’m going to procrastinate for an hour or two.

Port Douglas was fun. I can't really be bothered explaining anything that happened but i'm happy to post many photos which illustrate my 'Tourist Day' with my friend Alana (who by the way recently got a fringe - thoughts?). This involved buying 'Lolita' glasses and then taking cheesy 'touristy' photos. enjoy.

Ice creams were a must. Alana = Cookies and Cream and Me = Coffee.

We also met some other georgeous people. The shade was terrible though, and a foreigner was taking the photo. He was having enough trouble with my camera as it was, so we only posed for one.

We had lunch near this church, which I think is very cute

Bernie like the Lolita glasses

Becky wasn't allowed to bring homework with her...

Anni on the other hand decided to get in some UMAT practice.

Then Alana and I decided to walk home along the beach. However, we became disoreientated and this is where we ended up...

Where we took many silly photos

Many.

However, on a different note, I have received complaints from 'some' who cannot keep up with my ever changing priorities: mainly that I don’t blog what I say I will. So, I will begin with cupcakes. The Wednesday before last I made cupcakes for my sister’s birthday. I was asked to make these cupcakes the previous Monday, however I did not foresee how much homework I would have and as a result my bake and decorate extravaganza was moved to midnight. So I spent the wee hours of Thursday morning decorating cupcakes. However, It was the best photographically documented moment of my entire life, not even baby photos can compare, and I choose to share It.

this is the result of careless food dye dropping.

cupcake glitter!

I'm not sure if you can tell, but there are 24 cupcakes which spell (in little edible silver bally things) * H-A-P-P-Y B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y I-S-A-B-E-L-L-A-! *

In the end I went to bed at 1:30. All in a days work.

ob-la-di ob-la-da...

2008-06-28T06:42:00.004+10:00

life goes on.... after school. That's right. Term is over and now I am able to devote some much needed time and attention to my family, friends, my schoolwork (gross) and most importantly ... myself. Aside from the mountain of french homework mme. V gave me, I plan to do a combination of courageous and exciting things. All with camera in hand ... so watch this space if you want to be assulted by holiday happy snaps.

Now I'm off to jump on a plane, but brace your self for a sincere tribute to Port Douglas, cupcakes and tea time in the days to come.

daisies and dust bunnies

2008-06-21T23:16:00.004+10:00

Term is just about over and I feel like things should be winding down. However, I still have about a million things vying for priority and my head is feeling very cluttered. Unfortunately my mind projects this mental messiness onto various aspects of my life. I would generally ignore this, but my room had begun to resemble what I think the inside of my head should look like. So today I decided to clean my room. As usual I put this off, but when I got round to it I found it oddly therapeutic. I put my iPod on shuffle and dredged up the songs which I find shameful but secretly love. Right now, Revolution 9 by The Beatles is playing and a scarier piece of music was never written. Granted, cleaning took place in short burst of enthusiasm and little by little the floor reappeared.

But when I wasn't sorting my room, I was being arty with Sunni. This is what I call 'faux artsy' because it really is just Sunni and I wandering around the backstreets of Kew with cameras. anyone could do it. But I feel artistic with a big camera, so I indulge in my 'faux-ness'. Sunni managed to make her photos look like art. Mine looked like photos. But there were plenty of daisies, which pleased me to no end.

white daisies.

yellow daisies.

tree daisies.

sky daisies.

and as if daisies weren't cliché enough... black sticks against white sky.

I think Sunni would be please if I informed you here that the reason I have a blog is because she made me do it.

I know I should be organising my books but there are just so many and it's a lot easier to sit here and whine about it instead. They're surprisingly dusty, which is very off-putting. So I shall 'off-put' my organisation until tomorrow.