"I'll go to heaven when you make me happy"

Fantasies about starting up a Hole covers band.
An entire hour selecting songs and the process. The costume. The crowd. The messages. The emotions. The actions. The undoing of a mask.

Land of the Free, Home of the Brave*

In recent weeks I have heard many things about the way America chooses to govern its people. I am fucking disgusted. I feel so naive. I wish to move to Brazil.

Watch me become some kind of fleeting revolutionary.

*Pending any copyright infringement.

How does it FEEL

Walked past the cinema screen. Intake. Looked just like him.

Saw an open shirt walk up the street toward my house as I got out of the taxi.

Exhale.

Red shirt. Wrong shirt. A stranger's shirt.

Remind yourself to breathe.

I was manipulated into a reaction from something innocent. How does one make another feel so much unneccessary guilt, and remain so passive and...dark. So quickly turned to dark. Claimage of undying love, and remainage of dark, still? How?

The pattern.

Stop breathing.

David Benjamin Sheery

The colours bring on nostalgia for pretty lights and quiet movies...and show some kind of freedom. The second, kalaedescopic image, reminds me of a marquezite elephant my mum had in the fimo box. She and my aunty would have craft afternoons and I'd play with the elephant, in the sun, on the couch.

BEDHEAD!

Johnny Angel

The Shrine Down the Hall

I heard the man who took these brilliant photographs speak today, Ashley Gilbertson.

"In Private Sweet’s bedroom are two trunks that the Army sent back from Iraq. Next to them is his laundry hamper. The clothes inside, still carrying his scent, have never been washed."

I have been deeply effected and almost ashamed that I never cared before.
Please read this article in the New York Times, though finding a way to travel back in time and hear it all in person is probably preferable.

Just in case you were wondering 5000 American soldiers have died in combat, 8000 from suicides after returning home.

I'm in this gang you shmuck

(I don't care that this doesn't even really make sense. You're an idiot.)

YEAH!

The man sits in one carriage

"Success and failure simply mean the satisfaction and frustration ay desire. Desire can either be predominantly intrinsic, based oan oor individual drives, or extrinsic, primarily stimulated by advertising, or societal role models as presented through the media and popular culture... ma concept ay success and failure only operates on an individual rather than an individual and societal level. Due tae this failure tae recognise societal reward, success (and failure) can only ever be fleeting experiences for me, as that experience cannae be sustained by the socially-supported condoning of wealth, power, status, etc., nor, in the case ay failure by stigma or reproach... acclaim means nowt tae us... their value cannae be sustained because there's nae recognition ay the society which values them. What Tom's trying tae say, ah suppose, is that a dinnae gie a fuck."

Irvine Welsh

I wish this for my friend Cammy and Me

Images from The Selby

Doesn't this just feel like warmth?

And old episodes of Seventh Heaven. And being in highschool. Having a home with a mum in it. Twilight at 6pm. Movies with cool women living alone. Tea on the sofa after school. Foxtel. Blues point road and a house with floor to ceiling glass and a courtyard. Trees. A garden.

Whores in my head & Jim Jones in my bed.

The double encore, smoking genius that was Pixies and the ramshackling, tambourine rattling goodness of Brian Jonestown Massacre.
Who said Sundays were dull?

Liberty

Childhood.
Adelaide.
Queensland holidays.










Marie Claire Italia March 2010

Too freakin cute

We all fall down

Images from Scout Holiday

The Elusive

The bun atop my head was spotted in an Oxford St cafe from a bus today. At least if I ever get lost you will know how to find me. Whoever the fuck "you" are.

For my sisters

Just twelve months away


Images from Lily & Jae

wait.

Who needs london when you can have cloudy chocolate

As the weather gets cooler I begin to miss london

which is funny really.

What of it.

Yoyo: Have you ever met Nick Cave?
MH: Ummm. No?
YoYo: oh
MH: you know you just asked me that as if asking whether I've ever eaten toast for breakfast?....why, have you?
YoYo: Yeah. He's pretty weird.
MH: *blank*
YoYo: He kept asking everyone if they were Mark.

All we need for winter is each other

Taylor square

Bum: I'd be better off in Silverwater than out here!
Mophead: *silent*
Bum: Really. Silverwater!
Mophead: *Being the stupid twat she is, in a good mood, starts to giggle*
Bum: *Grabs Mophead's arm* And I'm taking you with me!
Mophead: (laughing) Shall we take a taxi?