Kids

Little girl to mother: It's like every single person in the whole wide world came to Starbucks and we were the veeeerrrrryyy last ones.

Five-year-old boy to bewildered mother: We're gonna go work for a giant meatball!

(overheardinnewyork.com)

Villiers Terrace

"There's people rolling 'round on my carpet
Biting wool and pulling string"

Oh holidays, oh boy.

Road Trip

I wonder if the bus driver will pull over to let me chew straw and drink strawberry milk while leaning against a post.

Play me, Playboy.

As I pack up my pink feathers for the show this weekend, I think of this peachy buxom playmate as inspiration.
Dorothy Stratten.

You think they care about sleeping alone?

"She knows where I'd like to be but it doesnt...matter"

These flashbacks will be my debilitation. And scratchmarks my salutation.




Nahhhhhhhh

A longer version of Gatesby

Colourscape
taken on a bus in the early evening to an old English manor in the countryside. Everyone had been to the parties before. I hadn't.
we were ushered upstairs into a ballroom. Champagne on ice served from linen draped table.
very elegant. Rooms full of green balloons. Extensive grounds with a lake and bunny hoppers. In the middle of the night, the ground became wet with dew and we raced on it with bare feet in the dark.
After some champagne people began to mill around doors. performances in each room.
One had been transformed into a Miami-esque beach party with larger than life yellow dressed buxom hosts with blonde hair and false husbands. There were cupcakes and cocktails and pinup bras on the bed.
Giggles and rumours began to circulate in corridors. Alcohol was drunk in queues. People were met. Conversations were had. Ophelia drowned in a bathtub every 5 minutes on level 3. The room only held five people at a time.
performances darkened. A hooded cloak was passed on through groups of people and one at a time they entered a room. I never found out what happened in there.
The evening began to blur. Bathrooms with gold edgings were found, laughter was had on a jumping castle, cigarettes were lit and put out and Gatesby was mentioned. We danced in a glass room and watched the people who had met and were falling in love. Eventually, sore feet and tired eyes.
In the dead of the night, the lovers and the rest of us removed our shoes, and with slightly messier hair than before w were taken on a bus home.

Pretty.

Rose McIver. (the one on the left).

Pretty much the prettiest woman on the planet. And she was once in a movie called "Topless Women Talk About Their Lives" so I'm pretty much in love.

Art Car Boot Fair

If I wasn't on the other side of the world I would be there.
Sunday 6th June, 12-6pm, 146 Brick Lane E1.
It's held at an old brewery - enough said.

"You! What did you say to Kate? She thinks I'm the Renaissance!" - Dylan Moran, Black Books

Dancing little liar

I have been switching between feelings of success and utter fear of the work ahead of me. I'm skipping on a fine line with no idea which side I actually fall onto. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens when I finally stop moving.
The following are some of the things I found on my travels along the border.

Scrambled Eggs.

I realised this morning that I have been peeling eggs the dumbass way my entire life.

And that last night, I was a pretty big dumbass. And then I realised, it's ok. Because Patsy does it, and she's fab.

But then, maybe it is time for dancing with just slightly less amounts of champagne in my system.

It's a thin line to walk between elegance and grit. Perhaps there has just been slightly too much grit lately.
Perhaps I'm just hungover.


I hope I wasn't too much of an idiot.
Nah....I'm pretty ok.





Photo courtesy of Louella Pleffer.

Present for Poppit

Sea legs and free kegs

My friend told me today how she is going away on a house boat over the long weekend.
Another friend agreed I should kick my parents out of my house and spend a weekend dancing in lounge rooms and eating breakfast after 12.

I have good friends.

A sexy mess*

*Insert whatever uncomplimentary word you want for mess. I can't remember myself. All I know is people shouldn't be allowed to drink on thursdays in quiet suburban neighbourhoods on tennis courts watching films. Or those people that you've known for 6 years will say things. Those things being the title of this post.

So I add this to a list of situations that have just tumbled off a wagon and taken me for the ride. Laughing all the way to the fucking ground at least.

What poppit probably looked like last Saturday morning

I should like to think of myself as able to be a concubine

June 3rd

Thinking vs not thinking

Rainbow Sunday

Now that. Is a cake I wouldnt mind getting all over my sheets.

Taoism

The way I see it, elevenses are meant only for sticking one's hand in the honey pot.

Nasty girls make me angry!

Barber Shop Buzz-hub

The Left Coast Festival, a 50 day event launching in a Darlinghurst hybrid barber shop and record store, begins tomorrow. It involves a myriad of art and musical experimentation's which I can't even begin to translate here considering I read the program and barely understand it myself beyond the words "LIVE" and "EXHIBITION". But it will include "a live pain vs pleasure synthesis conveyed through a tattoo/sound art performance" as well as the following work Flohawk by Rose Vickers.



Be prepared for a collision of the senses.

I'll take you down

And I don't mean to funky town.
Oh to perhaps have found myself a mortal enemy, what a beautiful thing.
Woo hoo, woo hoo hoo hoo...

The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered As A Downhill Motor Race

"Evergreen published writing that was literally counter to the culture, and if it was sexy, so much the better. In the context of the time, sex was politics, and the powers-that-be made the suppression of sexuality a political issue...It was always damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead."

I really do hate international shipping charges.

When yer twenty-two

"oh... life is good."

Glutton for cuddles

Pure and true.

Day of the dead

...for a night of the fed,
and lots of red,
going straight to my head,
before stumbling like lead...
to bed.

Calm and collected

Joan's partner: "Joanie i dont want to have a fight right now"
Joanie: "then stop talking"

Beautiful Menace

Illustrations by artist Stephanie Calais

Sexiest Women in the World

Vicky & Christina.




Penelope & Scarlett.

...and Sunday.

Saturday Night!