"I'm tired and I'm retired"

2 days in Paris

Marion: It always fascinated me how people go from loving you madly to nothing at all, nothing. It hurts so much. When I feel someone is going to leave me, I have a tendency to break up first before I get to hear the whole thing. Here it is. One more, one less. Another wasted love story. I really love this one. When I think that its over, that I'll never see him again like this... well yes, I'll bump into him, we'll meet our new boyfriend and girlfriend, act as if we had never been together, then we'll slowly think of each other less and less until we forget each other completely. Almost. Always the same for me. Break up, break down. Drunk up, fool around. Meet one guy, then another, fuck around. Forget the one and only. Then after a few months of total emptiness start again to look for true love, desperately look everywhere and after two years of loneliness meet a new love and swear it is the one, until that one is gone as well. There's a moment in life where you can't recover any more from another break-up. And even if this person bugs you sixty percent of the time, well you still can’t live without him. And even if he wakes you up every day by sneezing right in your face, well you love his sneezes more than anyone else's kisses.

Self Infantalization

Self Infantilization, according to Wiki:
"to infantilize (third-person singular simple present infantilizes, present participle infantilizing, simple past and past participle infantilized)

1. (transitive) To reduce (a person) to the state or status of an infant.
2. (transitive) To treat (a person) like a child.

Allegedly we infantilize to create a nurturing response.

Summer storms

Is there anything nicer than walking home in the afternoon with thunder and lightening, and no rain.
Just grey cloud and warm wind.

Would have liked to have placed an image here but upon searching for "summer storm" images, all I found was a Y Tu Mama Tabien looking film with young boys lounging around a pool.

Old street

...someone should tell this to lady gaga.

Lap dancing.

I ran across a 6 lane highway in the rain last night. and it felt goooooooood.(granted i run across this most nights to get home. but rain. better.)

Desolation Row

"After trying to pull my nonexistent rank on an army of sexless girls in hereditary basic black, and failing, made the trip upstream again got a pitpass (this had me wondering if I had to go home to get my whites too)."

Artist PATRICIA OBERHAUS describing the "Bobby Dylan Scene" in Aspen magazine sounds just like my Saturday night.

And justfication for going to bed early at the party:
"An artist is a leader, however small his following, and the very substance of art is revolution and a questioning and sometimes overturning of the values of the society which nurtures it. So-called "antisocial" behavior is often the most constructive of all social behavior because it is an affirmation of the individual's right to exist individually in a collective structure."

...again from Aspen magazine. This time written by John Wilcock in "Wilcock on Underground Establishment"

Reminiscing

Sometimes it takes a year to realise the majesty of what's in front of you. And the reasons you left other things behind.

Dali-esque

I'm obsessed at the moment.

Sing me a child with a lantern

I fell in love with this painting by John Singer Sargent at the Tate Gallery in London.

Sexy Rexy

I'm not a psycho, just hypersensitive and overtired.

For all those who saw me crying and screaming on the driveway, I apologise.

It's good to be home

Keep it warm

Black & White & Cigarettes

Is every dream I've been having lately.

And preferably wake up like this

The Forward

"The child's world is a world of symbols, shapes and sizes until that dismal day when it is taught to put a label on each and every thing it has felt, touched and smelt, and forced to shrink it by a name.
The child's world is the poet's world where dimensions differ only according to feeling, not fact, that place of the fourth dimension that eludes all but painters, poets, lunatics and the players of musical instruments. And it even eludes those at times. That is why they remain children, eternally commited to chasing after it, clinging to the tatters of those clouds of glory with which we are all born and which only rationalisation can rip off.
Definitions are dull and delineations even duller. Blake's Tiger would never have burnt bright in the forests of an adult's night, but simply have gone out like a light while the adult died of fright.
But beautiful things are not fearful in the innocent world because there one has curiosity instead of terror and a suppleness of mind that adjusts itself to the wonder of the unexpected as easily as the pupil of the eye to the fluctuations of light and dark.
Here then is a little book that is the right way up. A glimpse of a world wherein there is so much time and limitless space that no one has to confine or categorise out of meanness of heart, for fear that there won't be enough beauty or enough truth to go around unless you frighten others away."

Yehundi Menuhin

Creature Feature

This illustration by Jimmy Turrel reminds me alot of the work of Fleur Cowles. In particular the book Tigerflower she did together with the beautiful words of Robert Vavra. It also includes a forward by Yehudi Menuhin which I adore.


I certainly hope Jimmy begins to wear similar shades.

I could sleep for a year

Prague

Easily the most wonderful looking place I have ever visited. Cobbled streets, gothic steeples, ancient castles, Parisian like architecture in washed out Mediterranean colours. Jazz music at every cellar bar which are easily stumbled across. Big black new orleans men singing the blues.




And bread dumplings.

Soft focused and sepia tinged

this and 2:30 into 10am automatic. ecstasy.

Coming Home

2 sleeps until my own bed.

In brooklyn

Now all I have to do is wait a week.




pictures are irrelevant.

Piece of peace

Chelsea Physic Garden

Perfectly described by it's claimed intention as a walled secret garden.
Overlooked by traditional English brown brick townhouses. I was jealous of the french windows covered in cushions and rooftops so close by.
Each plant is marked with a plaque describing ancient medicinal uses. Greenhouses. Mediterranean sections, lawns, ponds.




Highly recommended to any Australians currently in London as a cure for homesickness - there are even Eucalyptus trees you can breathe in.