Wednesday, 17 November 2010

Last nights dream

In this world, we walked along sun-bleached beaches, strewn with syringes, all floating in the water like flowers or candles.
We found an opening an sat down. There were two men lying face down next to us. When we asked what they were doing, they replied, 'getting high'. Trying to escape the desolation of this abandoned place.
We lay down and I took off my jacket to absorb the strained rays. 'Great idea. Lets just take off our clothes, that will make everything better.'
And we did. And on my screen, The Smiths began playing, and the trees leaked and soaked, filling the bare world with dark and rich wood. And we held each other, the moment was timeless.

Well, its happy-er.

Friday, 5 November 2010

Gloria - Patti Smith


Wow time passes quickly.


This is what i found in my fortune cookie:
a chance happening this week will reveal your destiny...

exiting right?
So the thing is, I passed out yesterday and I'm going to assume that is the chance happening because there is pretty much no reason why I did it, and it's pretty much the most exiting thing to happen to me this month, let alone week.
The only problem is that I don't see how it has anything to do with my destiny?

You're an idiot, I hear you say.
Yep, pretty much.

So my conclusion is, I'm either destined to have a large lump on my head, or die of low blood pressure. I'm not sure which I would prefer really.

On another note, I'm a 15 year old english girl at a posh boarding school. The biggest worry in my life is what shoes i want for my birthday. Isn't it a dismal life?

This must be horrible to read haha. Sorry about that, I do try to start happily, but I always end up depressing. It's probably why I don't blog too often.

I am making a promise to write a happy post next time, so you might have to wait for a while until I bring myself to do it hahah.
Best film right now? - The Lost Boys, original 80's one
Best song? - Peaches and Iggy Pop - kick it
Current book = The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera...still undecided about this one.

Saturday, 2 October 2010

neon crucifix

Finally got my Cobain art project sunglasses.
Also a possibility of going to art school for sixth form, need to get away from this hell hole.
I'm hanging on with thoughts of Harmony Korine and Iggy Pop.

Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine.
DOSED.

Sunday, 19 September 2010

Summer was so eventful.




My life summed up = attacking llamas, Salvador Dahli in crystal, Kurt Cobain in graphite, and Marnas vintage knitted jumpers. With turkeys on.

Friday, 23 July 2010

Happy Birthday Pierre


Im still charging you.

Tuesday, 20 July 2010

Script.

Voice One: (american 60's girl) The king of rock and roll died yesterday. He was found face down on a bathroom floor. There have been numerous reports that presley (?) was a heavy drug user.
Voice Two: (propaa english girl) ghj..d.gtrhubarb..fishface...we cant get gigs in the uk when we couldve played abroad, we couldve fucking done..num num...couldnt we julian? Who needs the fucking uk its a load of fucking shit....Got alot of wax in my hair today...so we were left doing nothing i was just sitting there, we didnt even fucking rehearse, nobody wanted to fucking rehearse or do anything. so like, you know, its a logical conclusion, dyou know what i mean? Boredom, and like, im that way inclined, so what do I turn to?
Voice 3 (american cutesy boy) : No i couldnt take them off...my nose is broken im keeping them on.
Voice 4 (another propaa english bird) And she showed up with Sid, and i was thinking, who the fuck is this cunt? This is a horrible person. It was like the weirdest thing i never felt such a negative energy from someone, it was just a dark, cloud, with this bird. I fucking hated her.
Voice 5 (again propa english) First time i came across nancy i think Steve was shagging her in the toilet, (laughs) I didnt like her.
Voice 4: Nancy was a hooker, that was on the coat tails of the new york dolls, and i actually introduced, and i actually introduced her to sid, and shame on me.
Voice 3: In newyork I was dancing out in the clubs, used to go down and dance infront of cars and get tips off them, when you give abit of a handjob you know for ten bucks or you know, then i wanted to fuck. I was just, you know, *that was it* just, there wasnt really anything to it i just give good blowjobs *laughs* (and ill rip your balls off) I read the first sex pistols review, which was shit and i though like i gotta get over there. I wanted to see something exiting.
Voice 4: Nancy was his heroin dealer stroke girlfriend, and was punping him up with gear any chance she could get.
Voice 3 : He didnt like me because i was a junkie, he tried to keep me and sid apart for months, months, months.
Voice 4: Everyone knows that when a bird pokes her nose into a rock and roll band thats its suicidal. Because thats when he started getting really fucked up and not caring about playing. I didnt want anything to do with her.
Voice 5: We did everything to get rid of nancy that was physically possible. I even dangled her out of a window one night, by her ankles.
Voice 3: one night, but, used to hate me hum hum, listen to new york dolls, hum, johnny and jerry were junkies.
Voice 6:(Girl american) Maa baayaybbeeee yeaahhahhhah *rock music in the back*

Monday, 19 July 2010

I wish I was a boy.

I've had a ridiculously creative few days, what with new found music, films/directors, plenty of magazines, and my constant stalking of people like pelayo and fashion blogs. I'll sum my favourite of each.
Music - probably 'A Cold, Freezin Night' by The Books, but I did buy a punk best of album today so we will have to see.
Director - The truth behind Harmony Korines films are hypnotic.
Magazine - I'm so sick of simple, overrated, expensive fashion magazines. I got Dazed and Confused thinking it was another one, But there is a ridiculous variety, including all new art and books.

Overall a great few days, abit of isolationism and internet connection can expand anyones ambitions.

Probably by cutting your toes off, and working my way up.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TqlVCKfX3hk

Got it on repeat :)

Thursday, 10 June 2010

Yes?

Bleach my hair?

Sunday, 6 June 2010

He's a bunny.
Apparently self destruction is very romantic.

And I think the reason people still take drugs is because its been drilled into us that aslong as we get out of it before 25, it's fine.

Haha. I'm the happiest and most depressed person I know.

And I think I only cover it up sometimes because people just will get worried if I seem depressed, which I really don't want.

And I want to ask people questions, like where they want to die, and stuff. But I can't.

But I should, because I'm a teenager and I think I could get away with being disgustingly insane.

So yeah.

I guess I just wish I had the guts to be myself.

Saturday, 29 May 2010

I wanna be like Sid and Nancy.



World. Give me my rockstar other half. Pretty please.

Thursday, 29 April 2010

Old, and I wish it was new.

Just because you're a fucko who takes everything the wrong way, doesn't mean I can't care a bit for you!

I need to start hearing honesty like that again, I miss it.

Wednesday, 21 April 2010

Destiny.

Who even knows?
I feel like change should come, but it isn't.
Need a catalyst.
Waiting is for dead people, I just don't know what to do about it.

Sunday, 11 April 2010

Really?

Blast out your brains.
Thumping and pumping, ripping and searing
the simplicity of a thought, and the difficulty of explaining it.
And the difference of pleasure and discomfort.
It doesn't work unless it's blasting out your brains.
Subtlety is just lost if it's heard with ignorant ears
so it needs to blast out your brains, break through that mould
where should you look for inspiration? Rainbows? Romance?
Or the little pain, because after all, good always comes out of bad.
After all, happiness is overrated.
After all, happiness is boring.
After all, meaning is dumb.
It is the variation that keeps us on, not the chugging constant
and the slap in the face, not the peaceful hand.
Boredom id boring, and unenthusiastic.
Shivering, unchanging.
Commas are annoying and repetitive and should die.
So should and.
And fullstops, after a while, loose meaning and become a waste of space.
Shut up, you talk too much.

Saturday, 10 April 2010

'Only after disaster can we be resurrected.'


Indizzle.

Friday, 9 April 2010

Honesty.

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it.

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the endof the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sistermaking out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen.
-Osaonon Nimuss, in "The Perks of Being a Wallflower"

My friend thinks its a very poignant poem, I agree with her.

P.s. I cheated by copying and pasting. I know. If it was handwritten it would be different, but I dont really like typing.