Dec 30, 2012

NEWLY MINTED



"A girl came in the cafĂ© and sat by herself at a table near the window. She was very pretty, with a face fresh as a newly minted coin if they minted coins in smooth flesh with rain-freshened skin, and her hair was black as a crow's wing and cut sharp and diagonally across her cheek. I looked at her and she disturbed me and made me very excited. I wished I could put her in the story, or anywhere, but she had placed herself so she could watch the street and the entry and I knew she was waiting for someone. So I went on writing. 

The story was writing itself and I was having a hard time keeping up with it. I ordered another rum St James and I watched the girl whenever I looked up or when I sharpened the pencil with a pencil sharpener with the shavings curling into the saucer under my drink. 

I've seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil."

I'm reading "A Moveable Feast" at the moment. These words are magical. I wonder if one could create a clearer picture. 


Self Service blog
Tales of Endearment
capture the castle





Dec 29, 2012

GROUNDED



The overgrowth of time. Our skins have changed. Stormy waters. To be near you. At the gate. Waiting. And it comes up from the ground. Don't miss your chance. Those left outside become compelled. Though nothing guarantees something to contribute. Too personal to part with, too intimate to commit to paper. It's perforated. And writing blind, the earth bore its colour in ochre. A soft summer with its layers of sun and sand. The details visible overhead, etched out. Grounded by its sheer expanse. Wide and continuous. It's my kind of place. I am of this land. But the gums don't stand as they used to. Soured at the roots. The landscape has changed before us. Now it's just a shadow of the Dreamtime. It's a strong image and one I would hope weren't true. Pitch black. I wonder where we are. They're coming. There will be others. You won't catch me around here old friend. 


Steve Back
Philip Govedare
Bruce Weber
Garance Dore





Dec 20, 2012

LET'S GET OUT OF HERE



That face. Beauty too wild and fair. A preface of what's coming. All bustling and unexpected but not exclusive to the discerning eye. It's as clear as day. There's nothing you can see that isn't shown. The kind of beauty that pierces and mesmerises. It's the kind that pulls focus and holds you captive. I believe we're all like that, wanting to be older and then wanting to be younger. Tears appear in the fine cloth and you're below ground.

Freedom is on the other side, where the blue meets blue. Where the technicolour water shadows, vivid and uncertain. Let's go get high. There's a better view from up there. Chose your last words. Run with instinct and let's get out of here. You and me. Let's run as fast as the wind will take us. Abandoning the city lights for wide open spaces. How far do you think we can get? Well pretty soon we'll be star gazing. 




The Beatles 'Love Is All You Need'
Kate Moss by Corinne Day 
The Blue Lagoon
Ana Regina Nogueira / Sao Paulo 1980
Lana Del Rey




Dec 14, 2012

SENTIMENT



If you overlook the array of imperfections, namely, the chips of paint, holes in the wall, scratches and scuffs across surfaces and things that don't quite work as they should, then you can see it has the right sentiment. It is home. It offers itself with the selflessness and potential for what could be something great. It is the red apple. It stands to take another renovation, only this time it'll be one that's more true to its character. And I wonder if the walls could talk, what they would say. Still surrounded by boxes, this space will become the projection of an idealistic environment where everything is of our choosing. 


Acne Paper
Cy Twombly




Nov 18, 2012

COME AND GONE





Just like that. They come and go. Were they even here I'm not sure. There's a shadow of their presence. The space empty. You get used to the company. Such a long time but in the same token, gone in such a short time. And I wonder if that's how you really feel. Knee deep in your book, I wonder if you know reality any more. Where are your companions? Are you living in the dark I wonder. Try stoking the fire. Yes that might work. Pry it open. Let it spill out and shatter under the shift. This is for Matilda. And she needs you. What if her name was Kate. Would that do I wonder. Isn't it beautiful. For ever ago. Your mother's only one. You'll be holding all the tickets. All rocky cliffs and leafy greens. Some day. One day. But not today. 



alt-J 'Matilda'
Bon Iver




Oct 23, 2012

APARTMENT


In December we're moving into a new apartment. It may be in the same building and just two levels up but it's a chance to decorate a larger space. And it's also one step closer to being able to design a new space...one day. I can barely wait to get in and start. There will be colour, pattern, images, sound, lighting, storage and house plants. It's own show really. And there will never be a shortage of reading material. Ever. That I can promise.






Oct 20, 2012

THREADBARE



All used up, emptied out and pummelled down. The hunger was lost somewhere. Somewhere in the repetition. With days gone and days approaching. There was nothing to it. Opting-out threadbare and bare-boned. The make-up stung her eyes. Craving the empowerment of movement and the rush of air against her skin. The sensation. There is no place hold, no replacement. She tried and she failed. And what's to say it wasn't a mistake. It's unclear, fuzzy even. Not the comedy you'd expect, this must be a tragedy. People don't write songs when everything's fine, do they? What's the fun in that. Rhetorical question. There's a need and it gets met.

“I actually attack the concept of happiness. The idea that - I don’t mind people being happy - but the idea that everything we do is part of the pursuit of happiness seems to me a really dangerous idea and has led to a contemporary disease in Western society, which is fear of sadness. It’s a really odd thing that we’re now seeing people saying “write down 3 things that made you happy today before you go to sleep”, and “cheer up” and “happiness is our birthright” and so on. We’re kind of teaching our kids that happiness is the default position - it’s rubbish. Wholeness is what we ought to be striving for and part of that is sadness, disappointment, frustration, failure; all of those things which make us who we are. Happiness and victory and fulfilment are nice little things that also happen to us, but they don’t teach us much. Everyone says we grow through pain and then as soon as they experience pain they say “Quick! Move on! Cheer up!” I’d like just for a year to have a moratorium on the word “happiness” and to replace it with the word “wholeness”. Ask yourself “is this contributing to my wholeness?” and if you’re having a bad day, it is.”

― Hugh Mackay

Same Hessamian




Sep 28, 2012

FOREIGN


A foreigner in a foreign land. It's not always easy to live in another country. Even if it seems like the culture is in parallel to your own. It isn't the same and I think that it's bound to have an effect. There are days where you can operate as normal and it's barely noticeable, and then there are those where you feel barricaded. Maybe this barrier exists only in theory but it's real enough. Adapt or die, and you adapt. Over time the city, it's people and their culture evolve you. The exposure to the realities of another world, a different reality is humbling. And you remain changed.

It's not always apparent as it's not always present- sometimes being from somewhere else can be an advantage, making life that much more interesting. Though more often than not it complicates things. If you live with it for a while, if you sit with it and if you're open to it, the subtly of the situation is noticeable. Simple interactions become complicated and simple errands, a mission. There is a fear it creates. It puts you in a place that exasperates the human condition. It cages you, stripping you of your independent state of mind. And you realise, this is not your home. Most of your memories are elsewhere. Maybe new ones can be made here, maybe they already have been. It is not altogether familiar to you. You are not the salt of this earth. And you do your best.





Sep 23, 2012

IN HOPE



Seasons are a changin'. The chill of autumn has set in. With rainy days and a weakened sun. I don't mind it so much, the change. The slow turn. It registers and you observe it quietly, unable to alter it. It feels as though there is a lot of change going on. Everything is in transition as one part of life merges into next. A blur of transition. Autumn is especially melancholic. Lovely melancholy nothing. That nothing seems like a good time to review what's happened and to see what is happening. Summer used to be the only season I could appreciate but I'm starting to like the clothing autumn and spring offer. I'm coming round to the concept of four distinct seasons. Rugging up in soft knits and scarves, leather bags, gloves and boots feels like a new kind of indulgence. The ultimate indulgence as a sort of compensation. It's the darkness of winter that I'm dreading. Just about the only way I can cope is to distract myself. Fashion works well. Making lists works too. Better yet, making lists of coveted pieces and reading material to keep the spirits up. The Gentlewoman and issue one of CR are out next week. Tick, and tick. Not a bad start, not bad at all.





Sep 22, 2012

THEY WROTE IT



And now I read it. I say it, I try and I sing it. So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine. And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder. But I'm not asking for a storm. I ain't done nothin' since I woke up today. Every morning keeps returning to my window. I'm very good with plants but that was a long time ago. To believe in this living is a hard way to go. How can you have nothing to say. I'm a god damn coward but then so are you. The lions roar. And when it gets cold outside, we watch it all go down. I can only guess what's coming next by examining your timid smile. Everything will turn out right. Freedom run away with me. In the arms of mothers, another child that's grown old. Tell me something real. We smoked the last one an hour ago and it took me four hours to hitch hike from Saginaw. We slept like dogs and it rang true inside these bones. I think there's one in my raincoat. And it brings me to you. All gone to look for America.

I know places we can go. I never liked a sad look from someone who wants to be loved by you. Too proud, you're a drifter. The face in the ceiling, with arms too long. Be the ocean, where I unravel. Dark room honey. I follow you. I knew I was out of luck the day the music died. All you sitting in high places, I don't need no money. I smell sex and candy. Words like violence come crashing into my little world. Come on get down, make a mess. So far from home. Take a bow. Can't you hear me 'cause I'm screamin'. And a voice that came from you and me. The church bells all were broken. It could only be seen in the eyes of the blind. In the middle of the night. I knew I was searching for something. When I grow up I want to live by the sea. Train roll on. Please take me far, far away. Tuesday's gone with the wind. I wrote you a song. Here I am, tell me I'm your national anthem. And I saw, and behold a white horse. Listen to the words long written down. Listen to the wind blow. I can still hear you saying, you would never break the chain. Now time will come and claim you. You made me move. Now I'm the runner.


First Aid Kit, Old Crow Medicine Show, Simon & Garfunkel, The Rembrandts, The Hooters, Don McClean, Billy Joel, Depeche Mode, Ben Howard, Counting Crows, The Lumineers, Stealers Wheel, Lana Del Ray, Johnny Cash, Fleetwood Mac, Lykke Li, Marcy Playground, Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Pierre Toussaint




Aug 18, 2012

AMUSED


Can't wait to feel like this again.


The Gentlewoman